Blog Archives - trish hermanson

When Politics Divide

4/27/2018

   The three of us were so close in college that our closets became one. At the end of the year we weren’t sure who owned what. We had supported each other through midterms and finals. Cried through loves lost and found. Then we graduated and geography separated us, with the years bringing marriages, kids, and careers.
     We hadn’t been together for decades, so you can imagine my excitement when we gathered for a breakfast that lasted until lunch. Our table filled with stories of “remember when,” followed by deep laughter.
     Then one person brought up politics, and the other jumped in enthusiastically. She was onboard with everything the first said.    I wasn’t. I remained silent and hoped they’d move on because I didn’t know how to express my cautions.
     But they noticed my reserve, and I was on the spot. I struggled for words. The room turned hot and frosty at the same time. They didn’t understand me.
     We left each other awkwardly. They gave big hugs, but I sensed I was suddenly “suspect.” The ties that had bound us tightly had loosened. Was I falling out of the picture of our friendship?
     Since then, we’ve texted articles to explain our views. And here’s the strange thing - we want the same results, but we place our hope in different means to get there.
     I know they’re partly right and I’m partly wrong - that’s how conflicts play out. But are we so cemented in our views we can’t hear each other? Will partisan beliefs kill our friendship?
  I don’t know. And my heart aches.

Signs of the Times?

4/20/2018

This sign behind a supermarket loading dock cracked me up: “Pickup Location.” Is this a dating service?
Other signs that have made me chuckle:
On a Texas interstate, a sign for an upcoming “Safety Rest Area,” then neon yellow signs warning “Watch for Rattlesnakes.”
Outside the entrance to a memory care unit: “Future Resident Parking.” You think I’ll park there?
In a women’s restroom: “I childproofed my house, but they still get in.”
A Colorado sign warning “Post No Signs. Underground Irrigation.” They broke the rule to announce the rule.
A sign for those who don’t want to hurt their dogs’ feelings that they are “owned”: “Dog ‘Guardians’ - Dogs Must Be Leashed…”
     In Washington, “The Northwest Man” store with a “Sale” sign. I can buy a Northwest man on sale?
An Alabama church for those offended by other congregations: “Perfect Alternative Baptist Church.”
Motivation to stop at a South Dakota drugstore: “Coffee 5 Cents.”
  Upon entering Louisiana: “Welcome. If You’re Here to Commit a Crime, Turn Around.”
Two Mississippi stores adjacent to each other: “Guns and Ammunition” and “Sewing Circle.”
A sign in a New Mexico canyon: “Rocks Falling.” Should I duck?
A rest stop sign extolling Wyoming’s “vast seas of grass,” while the turf next to it is artificial. What happened to the real stuff?
     And a sign at the drop-off area at an elementary school: “Hug & Go Zone.” We could all use a zone like that before we leave the house in the morning.

What Tree Are Thee?

4/13/2018

I am a beech tree in a forest of oaks.
That’s what I discovered when my scientist son-in-law described how oaks are the king of the forest. Their colossal boughs create such a wide canopy they cut off sunlight so other trees can’t flourish, Steve said.
Except for one - the beech. Like the little engine that could, it chugs through the envelope of darkness that oaks create until it finds a space for itself, sometimes carving a path between the oak’s branches.
So I am a beech tree in a forest of oaks. An introvert in a world of extroverts. Others with huge personalities thrive in life’s forest, while I search through the tangle of branches to find my spot.
But being a beech tree isn’t a bad thing. I may never reach the heights or grandeur of oaks, but I’ve found my place and prosper there.
Maybe you’re an oak, your huge personality taking up all the space in a room. Have you noticed the beauty of the other trees around you?
Maybe you’re a beech like me. Have you determined to find your way in the forest, whether the other trees make room for you or not?
Whatever kind of tree you are, there’s a place for you to thrive.

The Girl Who Lived

4/6/2018

Born with a genetic disorder, Melody was “incompatible with life,” tight-lipped doctors told her parents. She might not survive for a week.
     But Melody did, and at twenty days old, doctors sent her home with hospice care, not expecting her to live much longer. At five weeks, she languished near death. Her parents picked out a burial plot. But Melody rallied and made it to a year. Then another. And another. And another.
     When Melody turned five recently, friends decorated a gymnasium with balloons, covered tables with cloths, and threw a fajita party. Two hundred thirty turned out to celebrate the girl who lived.
     Melody zipped around the gym in her pink Porsche, then a chorus of children sang “In My Heart There Rings a Melody.” And I couldn’t hold back the tears.
     She giggles now with big smiles that melt hearts. She signs to communicate. She’s written up in the book “Miracles We Have Seen: American’s Leading Physicians Share Stories They Can’t Forget.”
     Melody has required much care from family, friends, and medical experts. But what has she given back? “I’ve observed over and over,” her mother says, “Melody brings out the best in us.”
     Perhaps that’s her calling. Her weakness makes us all stronger and better. With Melody, we find our harmony.
     She’s God’s little surprise, and in my heart I’ve been singing a Melody ever since I met her.
***
     More of Melody’s story is at www.melodysstory.com.