There’s NOTHING Wrong with Re-Reading or Re-Watching

I’m sure that many people feel the way I do; you love a particular book or movie and you could love reading it/watching it over and over again. I’ve always been that way, and even though I may know the book and movie inside and out, I still enjoy it. When I was living at home with my parents, I would walk to our library and load up with books for the week. Many times I took books I’d read several times. Those I would hide from my mother; she always thought it was a waste of time re-read a book she had already read.

Personally, I like some books and movies so much that I will gladly read and watch over and over again. I see no reason to stop either. After all, who cares? Besides, to my knowledge there are no book or movie police. Re-reading and re-watching are things some of us appreciate, and there’s nothing wrong with it.

Sometimes I will be re-reading a book and see something in it that I missed before.  So there’s a reason right there to re-read. There are some movies I just love, and even though I can practically say all the lines as I know it so well.

So actually, what’s the harm in re-reading books and re-watching movies? Absolutely NOTHING. That’s why you often hear the phrase “to each his own.”

Television Manners

Why oh why is it that men feel that they can just pick up the TV remote and change the channel we were looking at? Is it really that hard to say, “do you mind if I change the channel?” At least we would have a moment to say, ‘actually, I was watching that; do you mind?’

I am a person who enjoys movies that I have seen before. I don’t see a thing wrong with that, either. Some of us like to revisit movies, some just think it’s a waste of time. Same with books; I have often re-read many books. And by the way, how is it anyone’s business about watching a movie you’ve seen before and/or re-reading a book? How does that bother the other person in any way?

But changing the channel without so much as a ‘by your leave’ is just plain rude. Just saying. A little common sense, i.e.: “oh, I see that <insert other person’s name here> is watching something on TV. Personally I’m not interested in it, but perhaps he/she wouldn’t mind if I changed the channel. I’ll just ask.” How hard is that?

Changing the channel without asking is just as rude as walking by someone’s table in a restaurant and picking up something from the person’s plate and eating it. Perhaps we should wear a sign (and a big one, too!) that says “I’m watching this, and yes, I DO mind if you switch the channel.”

Word to the wise; speak before you change channels. Just saying…

My Last and Best Uncle

Yesterday morning, my cousin Marie called to tell me that my uncle (whom we always called “Unkie”) passed away. He had been living with Marie and her husband Joe for several months, and was happy to be there. His wife, Dottie, had passed away years ago, and I feel pretty certain that she was waiting for him, arms open wide and with a big smile on her face.

Unkie was my mom’s favorite brother. He was there when I was born, and while my mother was recouperating, he helped care for me. As I grew up, he often came to visit us in Wolfeboro NH. Having him visit was always fun; he was loving and kind, and told the funniest jokes.

He was a single man for years, and then he met Dottie, who became the love of his life. When my mother quizzed him about her, he said in his sweet and humble way: “I don’t see anything wrong with her.” They married and had a wonderful life together. They lived in Florida, and were wonderful square dancers. When they came to visit us, if Unkie said something out of line or teased her, she would say, “Oh, Raymond!” But she still smiled. When she died, he of course missed her.

Long story short, he moved up to Maine and Marie and her husband Joe helped him move into assisted living. They were close by, and they often took Unkie out for lunch. One of his favorites were lobster rolls in the summer time, and they made sure that he had plenty of them.

As time went on, it became evident that he needed more that assisted living. Marie and Joe kindly took him into their home and Unkie was happy to be there. He was surrounded by kindness and love, and he lived there for a long time. When the time came that he needed Hospice, Joe and Marie helped him with that as well.

When he was slowly but comfortably dying, he could even make jokes then. Once when one of the Hospice workers came in to his room with Marie, he was lying in bed with his eyes closed. The Hospice worker tried to feel his pulse, and Unkie with his eyes still shut, said, “I’m dead.” Everyone laughed their heads off.

He had a wonderful life and was deeply loved by many. He was my favorite uncle, and I loved with all my heart. I will miss him dearly; my last and best uncle.

 

 

 

When Stuff is Just Stuff

Yesterday the Crankee Yankee and I went to our storage facility in Wolfeboro. Our goal was to finish picking out the stuff we can get rid of, and make way for the stuff we would like to keep. Even now after the passings of my parents and selling their house, I still get a twinge of sadness seeing the things my parents loved. Mom and I didn’t always like the same things, so a lot of stuff went to auction. I’d like to think that the people who ended up with them enjoy them.

The things I have loved from Mom’s and Dad’s house have found their place in our house, and years down the road, I hope that our granddaughters will enjoy our furniture and even some of Mom’s and Dad’s.

However, that said—things are just that; stuff is just stuff. I’ve gotten over thinking of how Mom would feel about us not wanting this, that or the other thing. In fact, I swear I can hear her say, “oh, for heaven’s sake, if you don’t like it, don’t take it home!” So some of her things will be sold or just given away.

Mom used to say things about having things that you don’t really want but feel you should use. In fact, she often said, “stop shoulding on yourself!” Good advice, that, and I’ve learned over time that it works.

After all, stuff is just that: stuff.