I’d hate to be a celebrity and expected to be in the limelight on a daily basis.
Always smiling and dressed to the tee with my make-up painted on just so and my hair coiffed to perfection.
It’s not who I am. I have moments when wearing my old raggedy hobo attire and reading a good book is all I plan on doing for the day.
I’m speaking of the lovely, Kate Middleton, Princess of Wales, wife of William, heir apparent to the throne of England. And her media massacre.
I’m not a royal watcher but I do hold a special affection for Diana. The paparazzi swallowed Diana Spencer whole and spit her out, completely taking over her privacy by reporting her every move. And it appears to be doing the same thing to poor, young Katherine.
Her recent disappearance from the public eye has caused a media frenzy and the dirty rumors began to swirl in the cesspool of the communal minds. Tongues were wagging with speculation. Where’s her wedding band? Has she left her husband?
A lot of that happens in small towns, too. For goodness sake, leave that poor woman alone. Petty gossip can be hurtful and often is the furthest thing from the truth, as was proven by the Princess of Wales’ video that was shared last Friday. Let her recover in peace with her family.
I, too, had a delightful surprise last week, when a strange pickup truck pulled into my driveway. And yes, I was dressed in my best hobo clothes on a Friday evening, donning a freshly scrubbed face with no makeup.
The visitor, with her border collie riding shotgun, was a woman I hadn’t seen in about 25 years: a fellow dog lover and artist extraordinaire, sign maker Cheryl Watts. It was a complete surprise and she left me feeling the love of a small town. Cheryl and I had worked together years ago with the local SPCA. I have a carved cedar dog ornament she had painted with my Jack Russel terrier’s name on it hanging on a hook in my kitchen.
In her hands was a newspaper clipping of a column I’d written last fall about my beloved Banjo and those desperate feelings I was having about losing him. It was most heartening to know someone had heard my cries. Cheryl, like myself, connects with people, and it was good to find an old friend. The heavens were speaking that day.
You all know how much I love to see people I haven’t seen in a long time. We talked about our past lives and promised to see each other again. I’m planning on keeping that promise.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, I love our hometown.
Isn’t it funny how you’ll cross paths with someone and know that there’s something that will keep you connected for the rest of our lives? I meet a lot of people and strike up casual conversations with them. And if I’m comfortable with them I know we’ll meet again. Maybe a tad bit of deja vu. Who knows? But it made me smile.
As I write this, it is Palm Sunday and the first day of a holy week. We’ll most likely take communion this morning. And the stereotypical lump in my throat will be evident.
I think the week of Easter is terribly sad. I know I should be rejoicing in His resurrection but I’m not. In a perfect world, we’d never have to have an Easter at all. We’d just be hiding eggs and filling baskets, and celebrate the awakening of spring. Not the crucifixion and resurrection of Christ. In other words, we’d have learned our lesson the first time around. But I’ll be buying two large, hollowed milk chocolate bunnies for my grandchildren, as I did for their father before them. It’s tradition. I’ve been buying those things for 42 years. And I don’t remember ever actually eating the whole thing.
I wish you all the happiest of Easter holidays and Holy days. And whatever you believe, I wish you health and happiness. And lots of chocolate bunnies and jellybeans. (My personal favorites are the Jelly Belly jellybeans)
And as you gather on Easter Sunday I hope you remember the reason for the season. He is Risen!
