The Name Game

Why do women change their names when they marry? It’s not that a husband has power over his new wife but on the unity of marriage. In the words of English jurist Henry de Bracton, a man and woman become “a single person, because they are one flesh and one blood.” By early 17th century, William Camden, an Englishman wrote, “women with us, at their marriage, pass into their husbands surnames and justly. For they are no longer twain (two) but one flesh.”
I recently remarried a wonderful man. It gives him great pleasure and pride to call me his wife, Mrs. Davis and vice versa For you ladies who have recently married, you will appreciate the red tape and hoops that need to be hurdled in order to change your name!
My new husband and I decided to make a day out of it. Once we had the certified license, off to the Social Security Administration! The clerk at the courthouse suggested the Winterhaven office, so that was our first stop. The line of people was out the door, probably 15 people deep. Inside every chair was occupied with more people.
As we approached the security guard, he looked at both of us and said, “get in line outside, and I’ll call you in when it’s your turn.” I tried to ask a question to which he replied, “I said get in line and I’ll call you.” I was incensed, and Roger wasn’t happy with his response either.
We stood outside for less than five minutes. No offense intended, but there was only one other person in line outside that spoke English. Roger couldn’t stand it any more and went back inside to talk to the less-than-friendly security guard. After a few minutes, he came back out with an application and said, “let’s go. It will be at least 3 hours before we can get in.” So we left and enjoyed the rest of our day.
I overheard several people say that they had made reservations, so I called the local SSA office to make an appointment. Unfortunately, name changes don’t warrant an appointment! Roger had the bright idea of getting to the SSA office 20 minutes early to get a better spot in line. I arrived on Thursday morning at 8:40, and I was number 51 in line!!
The security guard in Lakeland was just as pleasant as the one in Winterhaven. Since the office only seats 40 people, only the first 40 were allowed in the building. I struck up a conversation with a few people in line who told me to be prepared to wait at least 3 hours. I explained that I only wanted a name change so that I could get my driver’s license. Two ladies in line said I could get my driver’s license without a SSN name change, so off I went to the DMV.
It was about a 20 minute drive to the DMV. I walked in and spoke to a very pleasant young lady and explained what I wanted to do. Well, don’t you know the laws changed in 2010, and you must have your name changed on your SSN card! So another wasted trip, and I drove home. Oh, and you have to bring 5 documents along with the SSN card in order to get a new driver’s license.
On Friday, I decided to try again. This time, Roger dropped me off at the SSA office at 8:30 a.m. I managed to be in the top 40 in line! On this morning, we had a new “Barney Fife” in charge of security who only let 10 people in at a time. I was the cut-off point – aaarrrggghh!
Once inside, I had to sign in at a kiosk. I had to guess at answering the questions, and thankfully guessed right. “Barney Fife” walked around the office twirling his keys around his finger and feeling so powerful. I managed to stay calm and collected for the next 15 minutes. Finally, my number was called. Thankfully, I had a nice young man who processed my paperwork. He took my old SS card, gave me a receipt and said I should receive my new card in 10-14 business days. In the time it took me to process, Roger had just returned home and now had to come back and pick me up. I sat in the bus stop by myself waiting. I at least had the first step accomplished.
About a week later, I received my new SS card! Hallelujah! Now I have to endure the DMV, with my five documents, hope I have a good hair day and get my new driver’s license. Once that is completed, I will begin the process of changing the bank accounts, vehicle registration, utility bills, credit cards, insurance policies and anything else that my name is attached to! Wow . . . the list is exhausting when I think about it.
Why do I do it? Call me old-fashioned, traditional. I do it out of respect for my new husband. I do it because we are now one flesh, heart and soul. I do it out of complete love for my husband, my partner, my best friend, my life.

Thanksgiving Surprise

We pulled off the biggest surprise for my parents and nephew, Caleb.  When I spoke with my sister on Saturday, I confirmed that we would drive to AL for Thanksgiving.  She spilled the beans to her husband but didn’t tell Caleb.  We both decided that a 16 year old probably couldn’t keep a secret!

As we drove up on Monday, Beth called me and said, “I’m in a pickle”.  She revealed to me that mama and daddy were insistent on sending a Thanksgiving bouquet to our cabin.  She then said that her husband, Eric said “I’m out.”  When I shared with Roger, he too said “I’m with Eric.”  So both boys bowed out and left me and Beth to figure out the pickle.

Beth and I schemed up a plan for her to call me and pretend to order flowers that would not be delivered.  About an hour later, Beth called me back and said she called the florist and would have them delivered to mama and daddy’s house!  What a clever idea!

Roger and I finally made it to Prattville after a nerve-wracking drive.  We checked into the hotel and rested for a bit.  Around 5:00 p.m. AL time, I texted my sister and told her we were on our way.  As we drove up the driveway, I could see my mom standing at the sink and Beth in the kitchen with her.  We walked to the back door and rang the doorbell .

Meantime, my sister kept asking my mother, “are you expecting anyone tonight?” to which my mom replied, “no”.  Beth said, “are you sure?”  She and my mom walked through the laundry room to the back door.  My mom looked at us and said “it’s Bea and Roger!  I can’t believe it!”  My father was standing at the end of the hallway.  My mom hugged me and Roger and fought back tears while my father was absolutely dumfounded.

We walked into the kitchen where Beth gave me the biggest hug that I had missed for over 16 months.  My father hugged me and fought back his own tears.  Eric gave me another hug as I watched Caleb walk through the living room.  Caleb grabbed me and said, “it’s so good to see you Aunt Bea”.

As Beth and Eric completed dinner preparation, my mom said, “now our family is complete again.”  We had a delicious wonderful dinner and spent quality time with my family that evening.  It was the first time that all of us sat around the kitchen table and visited.  I along with Roger, Beth and Eric pulled off the biggest surprise of all.

Now, today is Thanksgiving.  What greater time to express thanks for family than today.  It will probably be the best Thanksgiving we’ve had in years.  I hope everyone reading this will take time to give thanks for your family and friends.  While today is a national day for Thanksgiving, Bea thankful every day for your family and friends.

[BB1]o

What Are The Chances?

 

It was December 13, 2015, and I was spending my afternoon in Riverview like most I had spent for the last five months.  Two weeks prior, I had spent Thanksgiving alone.  Now Christmas was less than two weeks away, and I would spend the holiday alone.

 

Later in the afternoon, I sat on my patio listening to music, watching the sandhill cranes graze in the yard and cardinals enjoying black sunflower seed in the bird feeders.  I was enjoying a bottle of wine when the thunderstorm rolled in.  I love thunderstorms, and the rain is always so cleansing to experience.

I don’t remember how long the thunderstorm lasted, but as the storm clouds rolled away, the sun began to shine again.  It was still raining lightly, and I just knew there would be a rainbow in the sky.  I walked to the patio door and looked towards the north, and what I saw took my breath away.  Not only was there a rainbow, but a double rainbow – something I had seen in pictures but never witnessed myself.

Image 22 Double Rainbow 600DPI

Riverview, FL

 

I ran back to the table and grabbed my cell phone and took several photos.  I captured both rainbows in full color with blue sky and white puffy clouds under the primary rainbow.  And if you look closely at the top rainbow, you can see a heart shape within the wispy clouds.  It was the highlight of my afternoon and would take another seven months to understand how significant the double rainbow sighting truly was.

Roger's double rainbow

Leesburg, FL

 

On December 13, 2015, he was spending his afternoon in Leesburg like most he had spent for months.  He, too, had spent Thanksgiving alone and would be spending Christmas alone.  He sat in his man-cave, “The Shed”, listening to music.  It was mid-afternoon, and he was enjoying the beer when the thunderstorm rolled in.

 

As the storm subsided, he looked to the south.  To his wonder, he saw a double rainbow.  He grabbed his phone and took a photo capturing two brilliant rainbows shining against a gray sky.  And if you look closely, there is a wispy cloud in the primary rainbow on the left-side as if it was hugging the rainbow.  Just like me, it would be seven months before the true meaning presented itself.

A double rainbow occurs about 1 in 10 times a normal rainbow is seen.  In Asian culture, red is symbolic of the feet and violet is the head.  So in the primary rainbow, the human is reaching upward while the secondary rainbow is reaching downward.  The double rainbow is a symbol of transformation.  It has also been said that if you witness a double rainbow, blessings will fall into your lap . . . one good thing will lead to another.

It’s been seven months since December 13, 2015.  Last weekend, we shared our love of rainbows and our photos.  We looked at each other in awe and amazement when we discovered our cell phone pictures of a double rainbow were taken within an hour of each other – from the same storm, destiny smiled upon us in the form of a double rainbow.

When I look at the photos now, I see that the heart-shape hole in the cloud in Riverview is him reaching out from Leesburg with his heart.  From Leesburg, he sees me reaching out with open arms via a wispy cloud in the primary rainbow. What are the chances that two people who have never met photograph the same double rainbow 100+ miles apart from each other and on the same day, just an hour apart?  We know it’s probably 1 in a million . . . but it happened to us.

Ani Tsalagi

When you have suffered a traumatic loss in life, grief can be stifling and all-consuming.  For me, I felt abandoned and totally alone.  There was nothing but darkness all around with no vision of light.  For seven months, it seemed like I moved through a fog.

During this time, I started the process of building my log cabin, but it was more of a project rather than realization of a dream.  It was a distraction but didn’t provide enjoyment or pleasure.  I wasn’t sure that I wanted to move into the cabin, but I was determined to build it.  Little did I know at the time that the log cabin construction would provide purpose to live life again.

In the seventh month of existing in a dark hole, the foundation was poured for the cabin.  A few short weeks later, the construction crew was ready to start stacking the logs.  It took all morning for me to gather the courage to drive out and meet the crew on their first day, but I did.  I never took off my sunglasses, but I forced myself to meet each guy.

Every day, I showed up to watch each course of the cabin be stacked.  It didn’t take many days before the engineer in me began to awaken.  I asked a lot of questions about the building process.  The guys began to expect me every day.  The more I became involved, the more interest I took in the cabin.  While I never took off my sunglasses, I began to slowly interact with the crew.  Funny how six blue-collar – some crude – guys melted my cold, impersonal nature.

In the crew, one man caught my attention.  He was the hardest worker and most experienced but the least vocal.  He was tall, dark, handsome, and I was mesmerized watching him.  As he worked, I was drawn to his hands which were strong, rugged and touched every log that was stacked.  I observed him through my sunglasses and caught him looking in my direction throughout the day.  One afternoon while he was working on the front corner of the house, he actually spoke to me and smiled.  I smiled back, all the while hiding my eyes behind my sunglasses.

Days passed and it wasn’t long before the rest of the crew sensed the attraction between us, not through words but through glances and smiles.  I noticed a tattoo on his left arm, but he never stood close enough for me to read what I thought might be his last name.  Finally, one afternoon I managed to make out the words above the feathers below – Ani Tsalagi.  That night while sitting at home alone once again, I researched Ani Tsalagi.

By now, the crew had been working on the cabin for about four weeks.  The tattoo gave me a reason to start conversation to the man to whom I was drawn to who was building my cabin.  The day after my research, I gathered up enough courage to speak.  We found each other standing alone around the house plans, and I asked the question, “so, are you Cherokee Indian?”  To his surprise, he looked into my eyes, no longer hidden behind the sunglasses, and said yes, “I’m half Cherokee Indian.”

That one question broke the ice between us.  From that point on, we smiled at each other more often and spoke to each other every day.  On April 5, he had my phone number.  At 6:30 p.m., I received my first text to which I responded, “you made me smile.”  His reply which melted my heart was “I have smiled since I first saw you.”

The log cabin is a fulfillment of a dream, “something to call my own”, a beautiful start to a new chapter in my life.  But it’s the man with the Ani Tsalagi tattoo who has given me a reason to love life again, a reason to smile and laugh again, but most importantly, a reason to love fearlessly once more and not be alone.

Crossing Rainbow Bridge

For many of us, our pets are our “kids”. My very first dog was a runt, Schnauzer-mix that I adopted while living in Austin, TX. I named her Rhiannon – yes, after my favorite Fleetwood Mac song. Rhiannon was my constant companion, and she moved with me to New Orleans, Atlanta, Tampa, Rock Hill, back to Atlanta and lastly Chicago.

Rhiannon was just shy of 18 years old in July 2002. John and I adopted little Aries, our first yorkie, three months before she passed. We were living in temporary housing due to my job transfer to Chicago. Rhiannon was slowing down and having more frequent seizures. It was a Sunday afternoon, and as we were walking around, she stopped and just looked up at me with very sad eyes. I held her muzzle in both hands as tears rolled down my face and told her, “it’s okay to go, girl, I know you are so tired.”

About 2:00 a.m., we awoke hearing her in distress. John and I rushed her to the emergency vet. I was hysterical. After what seemed forever, the very kind lady vet met with us in the room. She told us that Rhiannon’s heart was shutting down. We made the heart-wrenching decision to let her cross Rainbow Bridge peacefully, the first of many similar decisions we would make on behalf of our aging, sick “fur-babies”.

In memory of Rhiannon, John wrote this poem for me. For anyone else who has experienced losing a beloved “fur-baby”, I hope you find some comfort from John’s beautiful sentiment from Rhiannon to me.

“I’m smiling down upon you

From doggie heaven up above.

They say that’s where good dogs go

‘Cause they’re filled with so much love.

 

I can run and jump and play again;

My hip’s as good as new.

And over in the corner . . . guess what!

There’s that old shoe I used to chew.

 

I can see squirrels to chase them,

And I catch a lizard now and then.

I can bark when I want a treat.

It’s good to hear myself again.

 

It’s lonely here without you,

But we’re never far apart.

‘Cause I’ll always, always, always

Be running through your heart.”

~I love you, Rhiannon

 

Hope

While Easter 2015 was almost 10 days ago, I captured this Easter lily in my garden after a spring rain. It’s perfect and unopened with freshly fallen rain appearing like teardrops rolling down the bud. But instead of tears of mourning, these raindrops symbolize tears of joy for a beautiful bud which will soon fully blossom. The lovely Easter Lily symbolizes Life, Purity and HOPE.

Hope is a feeling of expectation, anticipation — an optimistic attitude of positive outcomes. While life can throw us unexpected curveballs, it’s important to never lose hope. Even when it seems impossible in the natural, God always has the last word. As St. Clement said,

“If you do not HOPE, you will not find what is beyond your HOPE.”

My wish for you is that these positive images, history and even mythology about the Easter Lily leave you with optimism and hope. What better time than the Easter Season to remind us that Jesus Christ offers us eternal HOPE!  We have a couple of lilies getting ready to bloom.  We will enjoy their beauty as well as the reminder to HOPE so that we will find what is beyond our HOPE.

  • Often called the “White Robed Apostles of Hope”, lilies were discovered in the Garden of Gethsamane. According to tradition Lilies grew up where Jesus Christ’s sweat fell to the ground in His final hours of sorrow and distress. No wonder that during Easter, these lilies signify the resurrection of Jesus and HOPE for eternal life!!
  • In early paintings, the Angel Gabriel offers the Virgin Mary pure white lilies announcing that she will be the mother of Jesus.
  • St. Joseph is depicted in some paintings holding a lily to his virgin wife, Mary.
  • Other paintings pictorialize saints bringing white lilies to Mary and Jesus after His birth.
  • According to legend, the white lilies were formed when Eve cried repentant tears upon leaving the Garden of Eden – symbolizing that true repentance leads to beauty.
  • Roman mythology links lilies to Juno, the queen of gods. While Juno was nursing her son, Hercules, excess milk fell from the skies. Part of the milk remained above the earth, forming a group of stars called the Milky Way. The remainder of the milk fell to the earth and sprung up as white lilies.

Always remember to Bea Positive and always remain full of HOPE!

Sources:

from http://extension-horticulture.tamu.edu/plantanswers/publications/lily/lily.html

“Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase and Fable,” compiled by Ivor H Evans. Harper & Row, 1989, p. 663

“We Love You Guys” But . . .

My husband, John, was a master with people. His philosophy about people was “it doesn’t matter if they drive the truck or pick up the cans.” He motivated others by making them feel extraordinary thereby bringing out their best. He sincerely cared for others and had a giving spirit.

I especially enjoyed watching him “work his magic” with service people, people who would fill a need we had, people we would only meet one or two times. One important lesson that I learned from John is that “people love to hear their name.” No matter who crossed our path, he greeted each person asking their names. Whether it was a crew to help us move, paint our house, pave our patio, maintain our yard, he knew them by name. He always provided a cooler of water and Gatorade for the workers. For the guys who moved us to FL, we bought lunchmeat, bread and chips for a “take-out lunch” before they left. He never failed to thank them by name when they were done.

Two weeks ago, construction started on our dream home with an opportunity for me to put John’s lessons into action. On the first day, I drove out to meet the crew and watch the process of building a log cabin. I met Glen, the crew chief and head carpenter. When they took a much-needed break, I met the other three: Charlie, Ray and Roger. They are definitely a “motley crew”, and my initial thoughts were “I hope they don’t cut off an arm or leg or get stuck under a pile of logs!”

Throughout the afternoon, I sat on their trailer and observed. I couldn’t tell if they were amused or intimidated with my presence. They took breaks for Mountain Dew and water, but they never ate a bite. Around 4:00 p.m., they started cleaning up and packing their tools for the 2-hr drive home. Before they left, I asked, “don’t you guys eat lunch?” Glen said, “we grab breakfast at McDonald’s; we don’t have time for lunch.” Charlie could see the surprise on my face and said, “she doesn’t believe him!” Ray and Roger just smiled and kept packing up.

I walked to the car and grabbed some cash. I handed it to Glen and said “have breakfast tomorrow on me.” He shook his head and said, “no ma’am, that’s ok”, but I was insistent. All of them thanked me, and they drove off.

The next day, I grabbed four Cuban sandwiches from the Publix deli. When I got to the property, Charlie, Ray and a new guy were taking a break. I handed them the bag and said, “I brought you lunch.” They looked surprised but gladly ate the sandwiches. I watched the slow manual progress of stacking logs for the detached garage. When the new guy walked to the trailer, I introduced myself. He shook my hand and said, “I’m Jason, Glen’s son-in-law.”

Again, around 4:00 p.m., they packed up and headed home. I told Glen that I wouldn’t make it Thursday but would be back on Friday. Charlie thanked me again for lunch, and said “you’re the best.” It felt good to hear “thank you”, like I was appreciated. I drove home fighting back tears.

On Friday, I grabbed chicken tenders and a 12-pk of Mountain Dew. Luckily, I arrived before 2:00 p.m. because I learned something new. On Fridays, they leave earlier to give them time to stop by the shop office. The blue-collar construction world is new to me. It’s very humbling to watch these guys work in the hot sun, hauling logs with sweaty hands for an hourly wage. They left early so they could get paid.

Week two, a rainy Monday postponed construction. On Tuesday afternoon, I showed up with Mountain Dew and water. Now, there were six guys on the crew to build the house: Glen, Charlie, Ray, Roger, Jason and Glen’s son, Kyle. I was glad I didn’t bring food because I would have been two short!

But over the weekend, I had a brainstorm. I could achieve two important needs: clean out the freezer and pantry and provide lunch a couple of days a week. On Wednesday, I showed up with BBQ crockpot pork sandwiches. When they took a break, they couldn’t help but peek into the bag. They eagerly grabbed a sandwich as I walked around taking pictures of the work-in-progress. When I returned, one of the guys called out, “hey, you can cook for me any time you want!” I said, “I want to make sure our cabin is built right.” They were all smiling and said the sandwiches were fantastic. They went back to work, and I sat on the trailer fighting back more tears.

By Thursday, they had grown accustomed to my daily visits. They also know I’m the General Contractor and have figured out I ask a lot of questions. (John’s nickname for me was “Perry Mason” because of my never-ending barrage of questions.) And, they reluctantly try my suggestions for process improvement. Glen found out quickly that I can read a house-plan and will point out anything that doesn’t look right.

Snack crackers on Thursday and more sandwiches on Friday. Charlie, Jason, Ray and Kyle were taking a break together. Jason, was the first to peek into the bag, and say “what do we have today?” Charlie said, “you’re the best; you know how to motivate us through our stomachs.” After a couple of bites, Ray asked, “are these home-made?” to which I replied, “yes”. He smiled and said, “I can tell because they are made with love.” And then Jason said the most profound thing: “You know, the lady from the last job told us every day ‘we love you guys’.” And then came the BUT . . . “But she never once gave us something to drink let alone feed us. You bring us drinks and feed us. You wouldn’t believe how most people treat us.”

The guys worked until around 2:30 p.m. and packed up. I turned away to take more photos, and I heard Charlie say, “see you Monday.” I waved as they drove off wiping away tears.

They say “actions speak louder than words”. Greeting the crew by their names . . . providing water, Mountain Dew, and homemade sandwiches don’t seem like big “actions”. But to these guys, who typically aren’t recognized, let alone appreciated, they bring a smile to their faces and maybe a small bright spot for the day. For me, they give me a feeling of purpose, if only for a day.

I’m honored to share a couple of John’s simple but positively impactful life-lessons. I hope you will do the same . . . take a moment to speak someone’s name, share a drink or meal, put a smile on someone’s face.

Previous Older Entries

%d bloggers like this: