What I truly treasure -- jcarolek

A song my father taught us when we were very young, in part, describes my personality. The song, "Don’t Fence Me In," is a simple one:

Oh, give me land, lots of land under starry skies above
Don’t fence me in,
Let me ride through the wide open country that I love,
Don’t fence me in,
Let me be by myself in the evening breeze,

Recurring dream -- jcarolek

I had a recurring dream when I was young. I began having the dream when I was in Jr. High and continued throughout highschool.

I was trying to make my way down the halls of the school, trying to get to my next class before the bell rang. The halls were so crowded I was feeling overwhelmed. In my dream I

I carried the burden of the United States of America -- jcarolek

Have I ever mentioned how I carried the entire United States of America on my shoulders when I was only ten years old? Well, I did, or at least I was convinced I did.

As we prepared that spring of 1967 for our move to Cheltenham, England, Dad explained very carefully to his brood of six, “Everything you say and do, while in a foreign country will be judged to be that of the ‘typical American.’ You represent your country when you are on foreign soil and I trust that you will represent it well.” (or something along those lines)

Well, that’s pretty heavy stuff for a ten year old. Even my big sister, at eleven, was not strong enough to carry

Either Yale or FSU -- jcarolek

“Please arrive at the band room in the high school at 10 AM to be fitted for your band uniform.”

It was with no small amount of excitement that my son awaited fulfilling this invitation. For three years he had been playing the saxophone - the one owned by my brother who passed away when Stephen was just six.

Stephen did it! -- jcarolek

One day, more than 18 years ago, I came home from work to find life as usual at my house. Hubby was comfortably positioned in the rocking recliner, feet propped up, TV blaring. Kids were “somewhere,” but no noise over the TV, so, sort of “peaceful.” As I crossed the living room to my roll-top desk, the desk that served as my complete office in those days, to put my briefcase down and sort the mail, I was greeted with the standard, “What’s for dinner?”


Well, as I was winding up for my just as standard

Stealing 101 -- jcarolek

I am sometimes amazed when look back at the old photos and see the beginnings of the works of art that each of us is. We were once so small and yet, even in our very early stages, we were filled with that personality that would grow and define us, set us apart from all the other artwork that is humanity.

Jen was always my little outgoing character. Walking at

Fat Tuesday -- jcarolek

Well, as I prepare for another Easter season I think back to one about ten years ago. I worked with a great guy who was of the Baptist faith. One afternoon, he decided to go over to the drink machine and purchase a soda. Being the gentleman he was, he asked if he could get me one as well.

“No, thanks, Byram,” I said, “I gave up sodas for Lent.”

Do as your father says! -- jcarolek

Do as your father says!

I was raised with that admonition and, by Jove, so were my children!

School picture day arrives and Stephen dons his favorite shirt, under which he is sporting a T-shirt. Dad says, “It’s too cold out there. Put on this sweater vest!” Stephen objects,

James Store -- jcarolek

When we moved to Virginia from Florida in 1988, we bought a house in a little place called “James Store, VA.” It is one of several “po-dunk” places in this neck of the woods and I was drawn to its rustic, quiet “ambiance.” We did not have the luxury of mail being delivered to our house, but had the opportunity to go each day and chat with Mr. Cox at James Store, where, as the postmaster, he carefully rubber banded our mail together each day.

Getting out mail was an activity we all looked forward to and it was with a little sadness that we accepted the news,

Finding the Gum Drop -- jcarolek

When we were very young, my father used to play a game with us. On a brass tray he turned over three or four small, fluted brass “goblets” and under one he tucked a gum drop. Carefully we watched as he moved the goblets around on the tray. We followed every move and finally, when Dad had finished all the troop movements, we were invited to guess which goblet covered the gum drop.

We became very good at this game and it, of course,