Tuesday, September 15, 2020

My grandchildren?

I took my nieces and nephews the other day to the swimming pool. The youngest is 7 and the oldest will be 13 years next month. A guy (few years older then me) that I know from work (but he is not a coworker) met me when I was with the kids. Few days later we met again. 

He asked - out of blue - we never really chat (I am not a chatty person): "So, did your grandchildren like the swimming pool?"

So  - there it was - the very first question that I got regarding MY grandchildren. Aged 47. 

I just replied: "No one has ever offended me the way you just did." And I walked away.  

(obviously I know that some women my age have grandchildren - but they are babies, not teenagers!!)

Thursday, September 10, 2020

The best holiday destinations for 2021

Before the pandemic I got on average one bloggie friend visit per year. With the help of this blog I met many amazing women who came to my country for the very first time. I love seeing my country through their eyes.

I love this new list of CN Traveller of the best holiday destinations for 2021. My country is number one on this list <3

I hope that pandemic will be soon over so I can start looking forward to new visitors. The visitors who have already been here (but according to my opinion: not long enough) are welcome as well :)

Saturday, September 5, 2020

Whose life have you touched today?

I love the story that I got from a dear pen-friend of mine <3 ... so I am sharing it with you.

The Black Telephone
Those of us old enough to remember when the phone was wired to the wall, usually in the kitchen, can relate to this story. I loved this read.
When I was a young boy, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood. I remember the polished, old case fastened to the wall. The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box.. I was too little to reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my mother talked to it.
Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person. Her name was "Information Please" and there was nothing she did not know. Information Please could supply anyone's number and the correct time.
My personal experience with the genie-in-a-bottle came one day while my mother was visiting a neighbor. Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer, the pain was terrible, but there seemed no point in crying because there was no one home to give sympathy. I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway.
The telephone! Quickly, I ran for the footstool in the parlor and dragged it to the landing. Climbing up, I unhooked the receiver in the parlor and held it to my ear. "Information, please," I said into the mouthpiece just above my head.
A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear. "Information."
"I hurt my finger..." I wailed into the phone, the tears came readily enough now that I had an audience..
"Isn't your mother home?" came the question
"Nobody's home but me," I blubbered.
"Are you bleeding?" the voice asked
"No, "I replied. "I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts."
"Can you open the icebox?" she asked.
I said I could.
"Then chip off a little bit of ice and hold it to your finger," said the voice.
After that, I called "Information Please" for everything. I asked her for help with my geography, and she told me where Philadelphia was. She helped me with my math.
She told me my pet chipmunk that I had caught in the park just the day before, would eat fruit and nuts.
Then, there was the time Petey, our pet canary, died. I called, "Information Please," and told her the sad story. She listened, and then said things grown-ups say to soothe a child. But I was not consoled. I asked her, "Why is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy to all families, only to end up as a heap of feathers on the bottom of a cage?"
She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, " Wayne , always remember that there are other worlds to sing in." Somehow I felt better.
Another day I was on the telephone, "Information Please."
"Information," said in the now familiar voice.
"How do I spell fix?" I asked
All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest . When I was nine years old, we moved across the country to Boston . I missed my friend very much.
"Information Please" belonged in that old wooden box back home and I somehow never thought of trying the shiny new phone that sat on the table in the hall. As I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood conversations never really left me. Often, in moments of doubt and perplexity I would recall the serene sense of security I had then. I appreciated now how patient, understanding, and kind she was to have spent her time on a little boy.
A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down in Seattle . I had about a half-hour or so between planes. I spent 15 minutes or so on the phone with my sister, who lived there now. Then without thinking what I was doing, I dialed my hometown operator and said, "Information Please."
Miraculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew so well.
I hadn't planned this, but I heard myself saying, "Could you please tell me how to spell fix?"
There was a long pause. Then came the soft spoken answer, "I guess your finger must have healed by now."
I laughed, "So it's really you," I said. "I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time?"
"I wonder," she said, "if you know how much your calls meant to me. I never had any children and I used to look forward to your calls."
I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and I asked if I could call her again when I came back to visit my sister.
"Please do," she said. "Just ask for Sally."
Three months later I was back in Seattle .
A different voice answered, "Information."
I asked for Sally.
"Are you a friend?" she said.
"Yes, a very old friend," I answered.
"I'm sorry to have to tell you this," She said. "Sally had been working part time the last few years because she was sick. She died five weeks ago."
Before I could hang up, she said, "Wait a minute, did you say your name was Wayne ?" "
"Yes." I answered.
Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down in case you called. Let me read it to you. The note said, "Tell him there are other worlds to sing in. He'll know what I mean."
I thanked her and hung up. I knew what Sally meant.
Never underestimate the impression you may make on others. Whose life have you touched today?

Thursday, September 3, 2020

La vita sin hijos / Life without children

I've just come across this blog in Spanish: https://lavidasinhijos.com/

I wish I was fluent in Spanish. But luckily there are many translators that help me understand. My favourite one is: https://www.deepl.com

I haven't read this article yet, I will do it tonight. But what captured me were beautiful pictures of brave and beautiful women - who just like me - have been dealing with infertility. I like the titel: Infertilitad: la otra cara de la maternidad / Infertility: the other side of motherhood. https://interactius.ara.cat/infertilidad

Gloria, the author of the blog La vida sin hijos is in that article. I love her question:

"¿Y quién se preocupa
de las infértiles?"

"And who cares
of the infertile?"

Wednesday, September 2, 2020

A different life

I love this new blog.  I still remember how happy I was when I started getting very first readers and comments, I feel it is important to share this link with you:


dear TingTing: welcome in our awesome blogging community! As Mali beautifully wrote in her comment: "We are very very sorry you had to join us - but glad that you found us. Take good care of yourself."

Monday, August 31, 2020

The vultures are already flying above us

Life has been busy lately. Not many things reminded me of my childlessness, so I felt I didn't have much to write about. But I do miss my blog (and having time for reading others), so now that autumn rain has come I will have more time. 

Covid19 has made travelling almost impossible so this is opportunity to visit (and take photos) some of the most beautiful tourist sights of my country. I took this photo of a beautiful alpine lake in the middle of lockdown in May and I thought you would love to see it.  

The longtime readers of my blog know that there are many children that I love. But the ones you love can hurt you the most. 

A girl - almost a teenager now - was on a short holidays in our place with other kids. We had a lovely time together, full of activities (highlight: swimming in a big outdoor swimming pool in a neighbouring town). In the evening the girl asked me: "When you are very old and in a nursing home - since you won't be able to look after yourselves - the employees in a nursing home would ask you - You don't have any relatives, so who will inherit your house?"

The girl used the sentence - you don't have any relatives ( she didn't use - you don't have any children). 

And yes, this girl is my relative. 

I don't remember when I yelled as much as I yelled at the girl. I explained that this is OUR house and that NOBODY will inherit it. When the times comes, we will sell it and use the money to pay for the care needed for our old years. 

(a note: of course we both hope that we will be able to live in our beautiful new home for another fifty healthy years and that we don't have to sell it. But who knows what the future will bring.). 

My husband asked me later that evening why was I yelling and I told him the story. He just shrugged and said: "The vultures are already flying above us."  I have always loved his sense of humour.


It is not the girl's fault for asking. She has seen some cases around where an old childless person gives all property to a nephew / niece / neighbour  in exchange for taking care. I could write many things, but I won't. One terrible sentence  - that I heard more times that I wanted it - is something like - They had to work very hard to earn this house. Meaning: the childless aunt / uncle lived much longer as expected.