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Social Butterfly December 23, 2004


Evelyn Madison
The Social Butterfly

 

A Personal Request

A Personal Request

 

We received a special request recently that I want to share with you and hopefully some of you will take advantage of it.  It came from Jeannie Winton, Director of Membership & Volunteer Services at Interfaith Community Services here in Escondido, although it has nothing to do with Interfaith Community Services. 

 

Jeannie writes “… my mother lives in an assisted living facility here in Escondido and she has two kitties.  Well, due to her dementia, I have been told that she has to get rid of them within 30 days.  I do understand, but it’s not easy.  They are wonderful cats, both are declawed and neutered/spayed.  The male, Squeaky, is 11 years old, a long haired, blue eyed beautifully marked fellow that is so gentle.  The female is 4 (I think) and she was injured when she was a kitten and now only has 3 legs which doesn’t seem to slow her down at all.  Her name is Baby and she is very loveable.  They are both sweet, sweet cats strictly indoors and would make a wonderful companion for anyone.  If you know of anyone that would like to have one or both, please let me know as soon as possible.” 

 

If interested, call her at 489-8458, Ext. 221.  Sure would make a lonely someone a nice Christmas present. 

 

P.S.  I have five indoor cats already or I would consider this request. 

                                                                        The Social Butterfly

 

Christmas To All My Female Friends

 

If I were ol' Santa, you know what I'd do

I'd dump silly gifts that are given to you

 

And deliver some things just inside your front door

Things you have lost, but treasured before.

 

I'd give you back all your maidenly vigor,

and to go along with it, a neat tiny figure.

 

Then restore the old color that once graced your hair

before rinses and bleaches took residence there.

 

I'd bring back the shape with which you were gifted

so things now suspended need not be uplifted.

 

I'd draw in your tummy and smooth down your back

Till you'd be a dream in those tight fitting slacks.

 

I'd remove all your wrinkles and leave only one chin

So you wouldn't spend hours rubbing grease on your skin

 

You'd never have flashes or queer dizzy spells

and you wouldn't hear noises like ringing of bells.

 

No sore aching feet and no corns on your toes

No searching for spectacles when they're right on your nose.

 

Not a shot would you take in your arm, hip or fanny

from a doctor who thinks you're a nervous old granny.

 

You'd never have a headache, so no pills would you take

and no heating pad needed since your muscles won't ache.

 

Yes, if I were Santa, you'd never look stupid

You'd be a cute little chick with the romance of a cupid.

 

I'd give a lift to your heart when those wolves start to whistle and the joys of your heart would be light as a thistle.

 

But alas! I'm not Santa. I'm simply just me

the matronest of matrons you ever did see.

 

I wish I could tell you all the symptoms I've got

But I'm due at my doctor's for an estrogen shot.

 

Even though we've grown older this wish is sincere

Merry Christmas to you and a Happy New Year. 

 

"A Baby's Hug''

 

We were the only family with children in the restaurant.  I sat Erik in a high chair and noticed everyone was quietly sitting and talking.  Suddenly, Erik squealed with glee and said, "Hi."  He pounded his fat baby hands on the high chair tray.  His eyes were crinkled in laughter and his mouth was bared in a toothless grin, as he wriggled and giggled with merriment.  I looked around and saw the source of his merriment.

 

It was a man whose pants were baggy with a zipper at half-mast and his toes poked out of would-be shoes.  His shirt was dirty and his hair was uncombed and unwashed.  His whiskers were too short to be called a beard and his nose was so varicose it looked like a road map.

 

We were too far from him to smell, but I was sure he smelled.  His hands waved and flapped on loose wrists. "Hi there, baby; Hi there, big boy. I see ya, buster," the man said to Erik.  My husband and I exchanged looks, "What do we do?"  Erik continued to laugh and answer, "Hi."

 

Everyone in the restaurant noticed and looked at us and then at the man.  The old geezer was creating a nuisance with my beautiful baby.  Our meal came and the man began shouting from across the room, "Do ya patty cake? Do you know peek-a-boo?  Hey, look, he knows peek-a-boo."

 

Nobody thought the old man was cute.  He was obviously drunk.  My husband and I were embarrassed.  We ate in silence; all except for Erik, who was running through his repertoire for the admiring skidrow bum, who in turn, reciprocated with his cute comments.

 

We finally got through the meal and headed for the door. My husband went to pay the check and told me to meet him in the parking lot. The old man sat poised between me and the door.

 

"Lord, just let me out of here before he speaks to me or Erik," I prayed.  As I drew closer to the man, I turned my back trying to sidestep him and avoid any air he might be breathing.  As I did, Erik leaned over my arm, reaching with both arms in a baby's "pick-me-up" position.  Before I could stop him, Erik had propelled himself from my arms to the man's.  Suddenly a very old smelly man and a very young baby consummated their love and kinship.  Erik in an act of total trust, love, and submission laid his tiny head upon the man's ragged shoulder.  The man's eyes closed, and I saw tears hover beneath his lashes.  His aged hands full of grime, pain, and hard labor, cradled my baby's bottom and stroked his back. 

 

No two beings have ever loved so deeply for so short a time.  I stood awestruck.  The old man rocked and cradled Erik in his arms and his eyes opened and set squarely on mine.  He said in a firm commanding voice, "You take care of this baby." 

 

Somehow I managed, "I will," from a throat that contained a stone.  He pried Erik from his chest, lovingly and longingly, as though he were in pain, and as I received my baby the man said, "God bless you, ma'am, you've given me my Christmas gift."  I said nothing more than a muttered thanks.

 

With Erik in my arms, I ran for the car.  My husband was wondering why I was crying and holding Erik so tightly, and why I was saying, "My God, my God, forgive me."  I had just witnessed God's love shown through the innocence of a tiny child who saw no sin, who made no judgment; a child who saw a soul, and a mother who saw a suit of clothes.  I was a Christian who was blind, holding a child who was not.  I felt it was God asking, "Are you willing to share your son for a moment?" when He shared His for all eternity.

 

The ragged old man, unwittingly, had reminded me, "To enter the Kingdom of God, we must become as little children."