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Rituals are very nice and my family has had one for many years.
Every Friday night we would always eat spaghetti for dinner followed
by fruit cocktail in heavy syrup for dessert. It would never fail.
It was like clockwork. The kids all loved that menu.
One Friday night, as usual, my mother dished out our spaghetti -- not
too heavy on the meat sauce as always. Mom explained that that was
because it was her "special recipe"; however, years later we realized
it was only because she wanted to economize. That did not matter to
us. We all loved the fact that something would never change and, for
us, that meant Friday dinner with spaghetti and fruit cocktail.
On one specific Friday night after the kids had all gobbled up their
pasta we (my oldest brother, Jeff, aged 8; my sister, Lisa, aged 4;
and myself aged 6) naturally expected the can of fruit cocktail to be
opened for dessert. However, that Friday night was different. I
could tell as mom did not have her can opener, not even the can for
that matter. I was becoming frantic. "What would we do without the
fruit cocktail?!"
Just then my mother got up and spoke: "Kids, I have a surprise for
you -- a wonderful surprise."
That explained it -- instead of fruit cocktail we were going to have
pie! I wondered what kind it would be. Apple was my favorite, but I
liked cherry too. However, I quickly looked toward the oven in the
kitchen but it was turned OFF! Something was wrong -- cold pie? My
mother would never do that.
I began to think and think -- becoming sadder by the second. I
realized there was not going to be pie -- not apple, not cherry, not
even peach. But mom said that she had a wonderful surprise. What in
the world could it be?
My mother began to speak: "Kids, Dad and I have some wonderful news.
You're going to have either a baby brother or baby sister!"
With these words my mother looked so happy and excited; with those
words the children looked so sad and depressed. The kids were all
thinking: "No pie for dessert -- not even fruit cocktail."
It has been over thirty years since that eventful Friday night. We
still gather practically every Friday night at our parents' home for
dinner. The main course for dinner is still usually spaghetti.
However, we no longer have fruit cocktail. Instead, we have Scott --
our brother.
Sometimes I long for fruit cocktail. (Just kidding Scott.)
©2002 by Michael Segal, all rights reserved
email:
mike@inspirationbymike.com
web site:
www.inspirationbymike.com
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BIO
Michael Segal is a social worker, writer, and well sought after
motivational/inspirational speaker. He married his
highschool sweetheart, Sharon, and together they have a daughter,
Shawn. Mike has had national recognition about his "miraculous"
comeback after being shot in the head as an innocent witness to a
robbery. He has many short stories that have been included in
anthologies, booklets, and magazines. Currently, he is looking for a
publisher for his autobiography, "IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE--THE BULLET
THAT CHANGED OUR LIVES." Please visit his web site @
www.inspirationbymike.com or call, toll free in the USA/Canada,
1-877-226-1003 for more information.
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Eighteen-months ago I wiggled my way out of Mommy’s tummy. What a relief to finally stretch my limbs
and breathe fresh air after lying all twisted-up like a pretzel for such a
long time. My features resemble that
of a healthy newborn infant, however, the truth is, I am really a reclaimed
“Wise Soul.” My new Daddy and Mommy
call me SHANTEL MARIE.
A “Soul” like me can understand everything grown-ups say
or do. Yet, being a baby, I still must
re-learn how to eat, crawl, walk, speak, etc., all over again, just as if I
have never done it before. Starting
over is lots of fun and very amusing too, especially with my Grandpa. He loves me up, we plays games, and often
he hams-it-up as if he were a kid himself.
Not long ago I started saying one-word sentences. One problem I’m
having though is pronouncing my “Rrrrr’s.” It is hard trying to say Grandpa when I cannot
voice an “R!” What comes out is “Gampa.” I get so
frustrated! Nevertheless, Gampa beams with pride every time I utter his name
because I can only say a few words, and Gampa is
one of them. I have to chuckle
though, if he only knew I could understand everything he says, Gampa would be flabbergasted. Still, he does tell everyone how smart I
am, so maybe I am just imagining he would be shocked!
My Gampa looks after me a few
times a week. My Daddy takes me to stay with Gampa early in the morning. I am drinking my first cup of milk with him
before the twinkling night-stars even turn into sunshine. Sometimes I wonder if the poor man ever sleeps,
since he is always stirring every time I go to his house. I love my Gampa!
Secretly, he’s
my favorite playmate. He feeds me yummy
food, and he sings to me all the time, “Grandpa Loves Shantelle’,
you’re my Nananelle’, my Little Montonelle’, my Little Baby Darlin…”
At midmorning, Gampa feeds me
snacks. He wants to be sure that my
tummy is full before I take my nap.
After I eat, he changes my diaper.
I have learned his routine and what is really going on is Gampa is ready for his nap! He
thinks I should be to. Actually, I
am, though usually I put up a bit of a fuss when Gampa
tries singing me to sleep. It is always
the same lullaby, “Rock-a-Bye, Baby, in the Treetop, when the Wind Blows
the Cradle will Rock…” All the
while, my miniature torso rests in his cradled arms. The best part is he cuddles me, and his cheek
rests against mine while he sings.
Several times during his routine, he will stop singing for a short
moment, which is when I can feel his light touch of several kisses on an
ear. To pacify myself I grasp his thumb,
the same one I always hold, and I stroke his large knuckle with one of my
fingernails. Shortly, I let go, it
is a signal to Gampa that I am ready to nap. My breathing slows, my tiny frame is
motionless, yet I am not asleep, though Gampa assumes
I am. Tenderly, he carries me to my
bedroom, still softly singing, “Rock-a-Bye, Baby…”
Gently, Gampa settles me on my
bed, making sure my head is resting perfectly on my baby pillow. He slowly rises from the bed and closes the
bedroom door to minimize any disquieting noises. He thinks I am in slumber-land! However, I am not quite in dreamland yet.
Contented, I am waiting for Gampa to return and take his nap beside me. I know he is tired, after all, I do run
around the house nonstop, and he follows me everywhere I go.
Before coming to rest, Gampa
turns on a CD chockfull of restful tunes.
Soon, I feel the bed squeak as he lies down. That is when I roll over and nestle my pintsized
frame next to him. I hold close his thumb
again and pull it against my body. I
begin to feel his warm breath as it falls against my head of hair. It soothes me, as if I were outside in a
slight breeze. I cuddle even closer
until my back curls against Gampa shirt.
My eyes are closed. Nonetheless, I am still awake and waiting
for Gampa to fall asleep. After a short while, I feel his body
relax, sometimes he even snores, and then I know for sure he is sleeping
like a baby. Ah, my job done, I have
put my Gampa down for his nap. Now I can finally go off to dreamland
myself.
Duane Shaw
dbshaw1947@sbcglobal.net
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