Lila Johnson's Blog - Posts Tagged "life"
The Case of Ms. Riley
A recent trip to New York City placed me in it’s underbelly, the subway system. This typical Friday afternoon had its share of passengers seated and standing upright while holding on for dear life to prevent flying into the arms of a stranger as I did just minutes ago. At one particular stop, a light skinned, petite girl, possibly seven or eight-years-old with numerous braids stepped on board.
She was a determined little thing. With an air of confidence that I hadn’t seen in someone so young in years, a blinged out tote bag swung from one shoulder. In her hands she held a clear, green plastic folder containing pictures. Riley (I would learn her name later) set about, one person at a time, presenting her items for sale. In a polite and confident tone, she would say, “Excuse me, would you like to buy my art work?”
I was fascinated by her behavior as she approached each adult. Some reacted with kindness in turn, saying “No thanks,” if they chose not to engage. One passenger pulled out his wallet and gave her some money but refused the hand colored artwork that she tried to give him. Then it was my turn.
I held the folder as she explained the prices of her work starting at two dollars and as high as twenty. When asked if she did all the work herself, Riley confessed that she and her sister worked on the project. I told her to pick out a picture that she colored. It said, “I Love You” surrounded in brilliant colors. How could one not smile at something so simple? I held out three dollars to pay for my purchase. She said, “That’s a two-dollar picture.” Impressed with her honesty, I told her it included a tip. Her big smile warmed my heart. I asked for a hug which she did not hesitate in giving.
Placing the money in the blinged out bag, Riley continued, business as usual. A maternal need to protect her came over me as I watched a man purchase a picture with an ocean scene and afterward a lady paid five dollars for her purchase then shook Riley’s hand. I continued to watch the little entrepreneur handle her business with a smile, filled with determination, one person at a time until she disappeared from my view.
Ms. Riley taught me two lessons that day; don’t let anything get in the way of business and if you have persistence and determination you will succeed. She was the kick in the pants, a blessing in disguise, that I and so many of us need when we feel like whining about how tired we are when goals or dreams don’t go our way. Yes, we all need a little Riley to make life worthwhile.
She was a determined little thing. With an air of confidence that I hadn’t seen in someone so young in years, a blinged out tote bag swung from one shoulder. In her hands she held a clear, green plastic folder containing pictures. Riley (I would learn her name later) set about, one person at a time, presenting her items for sale. In a polite and confident tone, she would say, “Excuse me, would you like to buy my art work?”
I was fascinated by her behavior as she approached each adult. Some reacted with kindness in turn, saying “No thanks,” if they chose not to engage. One passenger pulled out his wallet and gave her some money but refused the hand colored artwork that she tried to give him. Then it was my turn.
I held the folder as she explained the prices of her work starting at two dollars and as high as twenty. When asked if she did all the work herself, Riley confessed that she and her sister worked on the project. I told her to pick out a picture that she colored. It said, “I Love You” surrounded in brilliant colors. How could one not smile at something so simple? I held out three dollars to pay for my purchase. She said, “That’s a two-dollar picture.” Impressed with her honesty, I told her it included a tip. Her big smile warmed my heart. I asked for a hug which she did not hesitate in giving.
Placing the money in the blinged out bag, Riley continued, business as usual. A maternal need to protect her came over me as I watched a man purchase a picture with an ocean scene and afterward a lady paid five dollars for her purchase then shook Riley’s hand. I continued to watch the little entrepreneur handle her business with a smile, filled with determination, one person at a time until she disappeared from my view.
Ms. Riley taught me two lessons that day; don’t let anything get in the way of business and if you have persistence and determination you will succeed. She was the kick in the pants, a blessing in disguise, that I and so many of us need when we feel like whining about how tired we are when goals or dreams don’t go our way. Yes, we all need a little Riley to make life worthwhile.
Death of Two Trees
One late fall morning, I awoke to the sound of power saws-silence-then the roar of machines. I assumed that my fathers next door neighbor to the left of him, was up to his usual end of the season gardening and care taking. I closed my eyes, trying to return to the dream that included a handsome stranger, but it was of no use. After watching an episode of Perry Mason, I dressed and ran downstairs to take a peek outside to see what his neighbor was up to.
My heart seized when I found tree branches, chunks of tree trunks and then a stump in my father’s driveway. I couldn’t move. I was in shock. When did he decide to commit murder on the Ash trees? Didn’t we discuss just a month or so ago that we would wait on cutting them down, allowing them another two years to live out their lives?
When I asked my father about the trees, he lowered his newspaper and answered in a calm and casual voice, “They were old. They’re only cutting down the two trees in the front.” Then he returned to his paper. Just like that, he made up his mind. Death to the Ash trees.
I returned to the window and stared at the two men, dressed in safety gear, helmets and goggles. I watched as the long power saw in the hands of one of the men, sliced through the branches while yellow leaves fell and limbs, like arteries laid in the driveway dying away. One tree down, one to go. My heart couldn’t take the mutilation. I wanted to yell, “Stop! Leave and don’t come back!”
But it wasn’t my tree, nor my yard. “Those trees have been here since your mama and I moved here,” I heard my father say. That was thirty years ago. Translation, “Nothing lasts forever.” After grabbing my 35mm camera and snapping a few photos, I went outside to have a closer look at the first tree. It looked healthy to me when I saw the inner rings. I placed my hand on it and felt the moisture it still held. Yes, it still had two or more years of life in it and now…
As I walked back to the house, I couldn’t help but to feel a sense of loss, some pain for the two trees, the trees that once held beauty, shade and color in the fall. The trees that were once a part of the cycle of life, were no longer.
My heart seized when I found tree branches, chunks of tree trunks and then a stump in my father’s driveway. I couldn’t move. I was in shock. When did he decide to commit murder on the Ash trees? Didn’t we discuss just a month or so ago that we would wait on cutting them down, allowing them another two years to live out their lives?
When I asked my father about the trees, he lowered his newspaper and answered in a calm and casual voice, “They were old. They’re only cutting down the two trees in the front.” Then he returned to his paper. Just like that, he made up his mind. Death to the Ash trees.
I returned to the window and stared at the two men, dressed in safety gear, helmets and goggles. I watched as the long power saw in the hands of one of the men, sliced through the branches while yellow leaves fell and limbs, like arteries laid in the driveway dying away. One tree down, one to go. My heart couldn’t take the mutilation. I wanted to yell, “Stop! Leave and don’t come back!”
But it wasn’t my tree, nor my yard. “Those trees have been here since your mama and I moved here,” I heard my father say. That was thirty years ago. Translation, “Nothing lasts forever.” After grabbing my 35mm camera and snapping a few photos, I went outside to have a closer look at the first tree. It looked healthy to me when I saw the inner rings. I placed my hand on it and felt the moisture it still held. Yes, it still had two or more years of life in it and now…
As I walked back to the house, I couldn’t help but to feel a sense of loss, some pain for the two trees, the trees that once held beauty, shade and color in the fall. The trees that were once a part of the cycle of life, were no longer.
Adjusting and Accepting
Two months ago, I was hit with some shocking news. After experiencing several bouts of vertigo, a severe case sent me to the hospital for which I spent the whole day.
The news that rocked me was delivered by the ER doctor after I completed a MRI. "I have some bad news," he began. "You have a brain tumor."
All I could do was stare at him. Then I cried. Since then I have been told that the tumor is benign but as with anything that creeps into the body that shouldn't be there, the possibility of it growing is always there.
Since the diagnosis, I've moved forward with my life. After all, I have other books that I've begun to write besides my ongoing series, The Fat Girls Club. There are trips to be taken this fall and book signings in the works. I have a grandson that I must witness taking his first date to prom, his graduation from high school and college, his first heartbreak as well as road trips we have to complete.
In other words, I still have a life to live and I plan on living it well.
The news that rocked me was delivered by the ER doctor after I completed a MRI. "I have some bad news," he began. "You have a brain tumor."
All I could do was stare at him. Then I cried. Since then I have been told that the tumor is benign but as with anything that creeps into the body that shouldn't be there, the possibility of it growing is always there.
Since the diagnosis, I've moved forward with my life. After all, I have other books that I've begun to write besides my ongoing series, The Fat Girls Club. There are trips to be taken this fall and book signings in the works. I have a grandson that I must witness taking his first date to prom, his graduation from high school and college, his first heartbreak as well as road trips we have to complete.
In other words, I still have a life to live and I plan on living it well.
So Much to Be Grateful For
Whew. What a crazy, insane and sad year we have been through. Mask mandates, riots, extreme unemployment, hunger, politics and a pandemic with a reported death toll of 300,000 as of December 14th 2020.
On this Christmas day, a sign of hope is needed. For some, it’s found in the new COVID-19 vaccines that have been released by the FDA. For others, it has been through personal prayers at home, work and in places of worship. As Americans, through all the ugliness that has transpired, kindness has outshined the dark and placed a sign, a light, that shows that we are strong and caring.
“In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.”
― Albert Camus
On this Christmas day, a sign of hope is needed. For some, it’s found in the new COVID-19 vaccines that have been released by the FDA. For others, it has been through personal prayers at home, work and in places of worship. As Americans, through all the ugliness that has transpired, kindness has outshined the dark and placed a sign, a light, that shows that we are strong and caring.
“In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.”
― Albert Camus
