When I'm All Grown Up and Can Do What I Please

When I’m grown up and can do I what I please

Karen Lungu
The Daily Record

“Animal crackers and cocoa to drink. That is the finest of suppers, I think; when I’m grown up and can do I what I please, I think I shall always insist upon these.” These are the first lines of a poem printed on coffee mugs one of my college roommates –and dear friend - and I shared. When Lavonne and I went off to college, we had $225 between us, a popcorn maker and a case of chocolate mint soda - a short-lived flavor found at the Piggly Wiggly.

Fast friends since elementary school, we were thrilled to be all grown up to do what we pleased - well, sort of. We quickly procured on-campus jobs. Because we were not quite as grown up as we thought, our dorm room was decorated with generous hand-me-downs from the women’s group at our church and knick-knack treasures we found traipsing the aisles of the local Five and Dime (yes, there were Five and Dime’s back then, complete with soda fountains, where one could sit on a sticky, vinyl bar stool, twirling and sipping a frosty Brown Cow.) It was at this store I found our mugs. Taking the verses to heart, our room never was without animal crackers and cocoa. We spent many a marathon evening with our steaming cups, sitting cross-legged on a dorm bed, crying over one another’s break-ups and laughing over the make-ups.

After graduating, I moved away, but we stayed in touch, both of us marrying, raising families and exchanging Christmas letters and school photos.

Now, we were all grown up to do what we pleased – well, not quite.

Thanks to social networking, Lavonne and I keep in closer touch than in years past, and though our faces have a few more lines and our heads are slightly grayer, we still aren’t as grown up as we’d like.

This hit home a few months ago when the carpet guy came out to show me carpet samples. Though I gazed longingly at the ones I especially liked, I finally pointed to the darkest stain on my carpet and told him to match that. He thought I was kidding; I wasn’t. He matched it and I’ve since discovered there are darker stains.

When I’m all grown up and can do what I please, I will not buy brown towels for the bathroom just because I don’t want to wonder why my white ones are grayer after my teenage sons have showered. When I’m grown up can have what I please, I won’t need a snow shovel to get from one end of my daughters’ room to the other.

When I’m all grown up and can have what I please, I will not have three open grape jelly jars with various expiration dates sitting in my refrigerator next to two open mayonnaise jars and a 16-month old pickle jar with one pickle, and my bathroom sink will not be littered with five half-used tubes of toothpaste. I will not need a putty knife to scrape my microwave; I will not have petrified orange peels under my couch; or gray-fuzzy apple cores behind the entertainment center.

When I’m grown up and can have what I please, my garden won’t be sorely neglected because I’m trying to fill a dishwasher, write a bill, e-mail my editor and make tacos at the same time.

My freezer won’t groan under the weight of school and sports schedules and reminder cards for dental appointments, and I won’t find moldy swim towels behind the bunk beds. When I’m grown up and can do what I please, I will watch French movies with sub-titles, instead of wincing at the sophomoric humor of masterpieces with titles like “Hot-tub Time Machine.”

When I’m grown up and can have what I please, I will have my own socks and not the mismatched, misshapen ones my sons keep wearing. And, I will not walk in the front door to 24 big, stinky shoes that I insist my kids remove in my feeble attempts to keep an unstained carpet.

And, when I’m all grown up and can have what I please, I will sit sipping my cocoa, eating my animal crackers, and I will miss every one of these things.

(By the way, Lavonne, I think we look great.)

Karen Lungu can be reached at klungu@ccdailyrecord.com.

Love and the Joy of Hurting

I know that many of you will visit the graves of your loved ones this weekend. For some of you, that loss of a loved one is fresh and for still others, that loss is a scar of memory upon your heart. Whichever situation is true for you, the truth is that pain=love. To further illustrate the point I'm attempting (not so eloquently) to make, please read on:

"Love and the joy of hurting"

By Bob Perks

"Do you like what you do?" she asked me.

"I write about happy things," I said.

"Wait a minute. I've read your work. You made me cry sometimes," she said.

"That makes me happy," I replied.

"Well, that's sick," she said smiling.

"I don't make people cry by hurting them. They often cry from the hurt they have already.

When I first started writing, people would reply telling me that they cried. I wrote back every

time to apologize until I one day realized what a privilege it was."

She still looked at me oddly.

"You see, something I was inspired to write touched someone in such a way as to draw from

them an emotion. They, the reader, actually permitted me, trusted me to enter into their very

being that day and release the pain or joy associated with my story."

"So, I let you in?"

"No, God did. He used that moment to connect us. There was something you needed to feel and

something He wanted me to say."

"Then why do we hurt so much?"

"Love."

How much we hurt is often in relationship to how much we love. The same can be said about

happiness. How much happiness there is in our lives depends on how much love we have not

only for those around us, but for life itself.

Like the death of a loved one.

Such loss is a pain we all endure many times in our lives. Why? Because we love.

But the great thing about love is, it never ceases, even after the final goodbye.

Love continues. It does not cease to exist because someone has died. I believe it is not

the memory of someone gone, but the love of someone that sustains us. Love is more than

remembering.

Love is first a decision of the mind and then a commitment of the heart.

A few years ago, someone wrote to me asking "When will I stop hurting?"

At that time there seemed to be a number of people who were struggling with loss.

I have recently become aware that some of my "friends I've never met," are hurting.

Permit me to share that story with you again:

When will I stop hurting?

By Bob Perks

"I lost a loved one nearly a year ago. When will I stop hurting?"

The question was simple but difficult to answer. She was challenging me.

I wanted to help her, but I knew that only she could answer that question.

Whenever someone writes to tell me about a death, I always talk about

the difficult months ahead. I refer to it as a "Year of Firsts." The first holiday,

birthday, anniversary, summer picnic or other personal event without that loved one.

Then there are those little things you never really paid attention to before, but now

find a gaping hole right in the middle of your day. Like the time they woke up each

morning, how they had their coffee, the sound the door made around dinner time

when they arrived home and the way they said "hello."

But there was something about this message today that made me stop and really

think about what I needed to say. Oddly, I decided that the pain she was feeling

was a good thing, but I wasn't sure she wanted to know that.

Here is exactly what I wrote to her:

When will you stop hurting? That is a measure of the love you shared and how does one measure love?

By remembering them long after they are gone. "Memories" are

the shadows of a life well lived that remain long after the light of their being has gone out.

May you never forget. "Pain" is the echo of remembering those special moments when all the world belonged to the both of you.

The day will come when the pain of remembering turns into understanding

the privilege of ever having them in your life at all.

Remembering will be a joy. Although the pain is great at times, you are reminded still, how very much you loved and were loved.

May the rest of your life be a reflection of that love and when your time comes, may your passing cast long shadows for all who loved you, too.

Bob Perks

My final thought...

When I die...

Bury me not in a cold dark grave. Bury me deep within your heart. I will live forever there.

Bob Perks

P.O. Box 1702

Shavertown, Pa. 18708

Contact Bob 2believe@comcast.net

I encourage you to share my stories but
I do ask that you keep my name and contact
information with my work.

If you would like to receive Bob's Inspirational
stories, please visit http://www.IWishYouEnough.com

and submit your email address.

"I Wish You enough!"
© 2001 Bob Perks

I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright.
I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun more.
I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive.
I wish you enough pain so that the smallest joys in life appear
much bigger.
I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting.
I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.
I wish you enough "Hello's" to get you through the final "Goodbye."