I was digging around in my computer files, unsuccessfully trying to organize old pictures and genealogy documents, when I stumbled upon this old blog post. Since I have had a number of 2 AM sleepless nights lately and because I still have odd thoughts skipping about in my brain at that time, I thought perhaps my kids and some of the rest of you might find the following either interesting or amusing. Take your pick. :)
2 AM Musings
One should never fall asleep around suppertime and wake up after 9 PM. It really wrecks going to bed at a decent hour.
And to make it worse, strange thoughts float around in one's head at 2 AM. Well, to be perfectly honest, strange thoughts aren't really all that unusual for me, but I digress.
I was wondering, at 2 AM, why my parent's generation was so terribly worried about what people would think. Like the time when my Mother's doctor prescribed a shot of brandy at night to help her sleep. Mother made Dad get the brandy from the druggist rather than the liquor store, even though he paid twice the price at the drug store for brandy in a prescription bottle, because she was afraid of what people would say if they saw him coming out of the liquor store.
As a kid, I went through a stage where I wore mostly jeans and my Dad's old flannel shirts. I lived in the country. I played in the woods. I grubbed around in the garden. I did yard work. I sat up in apple trees and read books. I liked jeans and old comfy flannel shirts. But Mother was always after me to change clothes because what would people say if we got company and they saw me dressed like that.
My 4-H softball team practiced on Sunday afternoons. I loved playing softball. I was a pretty fair shortstop. But Mother was worried about what people would say if they knew that I was playing ball on Sunday, which was a day of rest.
I always wondered who "They" were. Who were these people who were just waiting for my family to do something out of the ordinary so they could say whatever it was that they were going to say. I probably, in retrospect, shouldn't have posed this question to Mom, for, as I recall, it got me a week of living in my bedroom and a month of Wednesday night Prayer Meetings at the church, no doubt to pray for the state of my rebellious soul. I think that having a daughter who was, at that time, a bit of a free spirit, must have been a trial for her.
Odd, the things one remembers at 2 AM.
I can remember my aunt telling my mother that a single mom with 3 kids to raise had to watch her “P’s and Q’s” so people didn’t talk. I have always remembered my mother telling her that if people talked about her then someone else was getting a rest from being talked about. That when they started helping with the bills she would care what they said. I was about 10 then and I’m 80 now. I like to think I have lived my life with the same confidence she had.
ReplyDeleteSue...Seems like our generation didn't much care what others thought, like the previous generation did. Maybe it was the "hippy" trends back then, or perhaps we were just tired of worrying about what people might say. I absolutely love your mother's reaction to being told to watch her P's and Q's!! Good on her!
DeleteMy siblings being from the late 50's and early 60's were never allowed to play with friends on Sundays. Like you said, it was a day of rest. One Sunday, a family with children came to visit us and mom said for all of us kids to go outside and play. I said to mom that we couldn't play with them because today is Sunday. Well, she wasn't very happy with me to say the least. We did go outside and play but after they left, I got a talking too! Guess I embarassed her....oops!!
ReplyDeleteOK, Alice...That's funny! I'm pretty sure that most of us who were raised by parents who worried about what people would think, have
Deleteembarrassed them when the rules backfired as in playing on Sunday. But to their credit, most of us grew up with morals, which seem to be lacking in many today.
Oh my goodness, my mom is always so worried about what THEY think! Haha! It was drilled into me growing up as well. As I am approaching 50 this year, I've finally decided that I don't care who THEY are anymore! THEY can like it or lump it! Haha! I loved this post! So relatable!
ReplyDeleteGood for you, Mandy...THEY can go pound sand! We live our lives as we think best. And we sure don't need anyone's permission to do so.
DeleteDefinitely an interesting post, Vicki. I hope you are staying warm.
ReplyDeleteBe safe and God bless.
Thanks, LindaG...Just a reposting of an old one. :) It is a bit nippy here. On second thought, it is damn cold. But my apartment stays warm. Take good care and God bless!
DeleteWorrying about what everyone else thinks about us has landed us, as a country, where we are now!
ReplyDelete...I honestly don't give a rat's petoot what people think about me!
The consequences of deeds and beliefs have a habit of standing or falling on their own over time. Come to think of it, I'm sure there were PLENTY of people who ill-judged those who followed a fellow named Jesus back in the day...
Acts 5:38-39:
So in the present case I advise you: Leave these men alone. Let them go! For if their purpose or endeavor is of human origin, it will fail. 39 But if it is from God, you will not be able to stop them. You may even find yourselves fighting against God.”
Pete...I would like to be in the favor of those I care about, but it is not necessary. I will not be unkind for no reason. Nor will I change who I am just to please others. Think I might just be at the 'what you see is what you get' stage. And as I grow older, I seem to have added the part where judgemental others can go pound sand. Thing is, I seem to be happy with who I am and the only one whose opinion concerns me is my Lord.
DeleteAbout 30 years ago my husband and I were buying a house. On a Friday morning, the bank told us it would have to be scraped and painted before they would do the loan. They said the appraiser would come on Monday to make sure it was done. I scrambled around buying paint, brushes, rollers, and scrapers and we got started. My parents were helping us and we ended up having to paint on Sunday and my dad insisted we had to work on the back so people wouldn't see us working on Sunday. I pointed out that God was the one who made that rule and He was the only one that mattered. Dad said, " well, I guess our ox is in the ditch and we're about to lose our ass!" (Because we had already spent a lot of money because the sellers were just trying to settle an estate and wouldn't do any repairs). Then he was ok with us painting on Sunday.
ReplyDeleteSonia...Your reply to your Dad was wonderful and I wish I had thought of it many years ago! It always seemed to me that contrary to my Mother's 'day of rest' ideas, God likely wasn't frowning on those who did whatever work was necessary or spent Sunday enjoying an activity or the company of friends and family. Thanks for sharing your story. Loved it!
ReplyDelete