Swords and Sailor Hats... by Ben Hazlett

"Can I see your sword, grandpa?"  "Yes," my Grandpa Hazlett would respond.  Then while pointing at his Marine officer sword display on the way, he would say "see, there it is. Now you've seen it."   This senario was repeated at least once every time we visited.  At first it was just a cool sword, but as I grew older I began to realize what it meant.  

That sword along with medals, photos, dress uniform, the close-cut Marine haircut (which he continued to wear as long as I knew him) and the American flag which was always flying outside, were all symbols.  They were a symbol of a man who dedicated years of his life to the United States Marines and his country.  They were a symbol of a man who served tours in Vietnam, far away from his family.  A family and wife, who likely wondered and often worried that they might never see him again.  They were a symbol of a patriot who loved his country and his family and fought to protect our freedom.  

My Grandpa Hayden had similar symbols, though they were often less visable.   There was a flag and an unmistakeable love for this country.  Once, however, I interviewed grandpa about WWII.  He took out an old ammo can, openned it, and produced a scrap of metal.  He talked about his service in the engine room of the battleship USS Idaho.  One day, on his way up to the deck, a kamakazi pilot dove out of the sky and aimed for the hull.  A deck gunner spun around just in time and blast him out of the sky. The plane was so close that parts of the plane were scattered all over the deck.  "That piece of metal you are holding is a peice of that plane," my grandfather said.  

This son of a Swedish imigrant farmer was thrust into one of the worlds most terrible wars to fight for the freedom of his family's new country.  That piece of Japanese plane I held was a symbol of yet another great man and Navy sailor who took his place in the fight for freedom even at the repeated risk of his life.  During his service, he spent countless hours in the engine room, listening to depthcharges and torpedoes, and wondering if the next explosion might be the last he heard.  His ship provided altillery support for the Marine assault on Iwa Jima.  

Both my grandfathers were themselves symbols of freedom, sacrifice, and love.  They helped protect our freedoms and shape this country and the world.  And their service helped shape them and thier posterity.  Being proud to be an American wasn't just a line from a Lee Greewood song, it was a character trait that was infered as the grandson of men who served their country in war time. 

On our great nation's birthday this year, I can't help reflecting on all of the men and women who have sacrificed so much to make and keep us free.  I am pround to have a personal family legacy of swords and sailor hats and the great men who taught me what it means to be free. 

My Boys...by Mary Hazlett

Growing up in my large family definitely had its ups...and it ups.  I remember being 4 or 5 years old and being at home with my mom .  It was difficult for the youngest of eight to be without her siblings.  I usually missed my brothers so badly that I would ask to take a nap just to speed up the day.  Most week days involved the same routine.  Get up and get ready for the day. Around lunch time, I would help mom prepare food all the while eating a cup full of chocolate chips and then watch Mr. Rogers which was immediately followed by Sesame Street.  This was the time I would usually close my eyes and take a snooze.  My mom finally asked me why I tried so hard to sleep and I replied, "I am waiting for my boys."

My brothers were so much fun for me as a kid.  We spent hours jumping on the tramp, drawing, hide-and-go-seek, pretending, and playing our army-navy club "The Falcons".  My brothers were my everything.  

Never would I have guessed that after a once very full house emptied that I would find myself once again waiting for my boys.  Family has been such a bright and important spot in my life in soooo many ways.  My wildest dreams would not have guessed that I would be blessed, once again, with darling boys.  So now the years have passed and I find myself delightfully waking up finding that "My Boys" have come home once again!  I am one LUCKY girl!!

**Please share your stories with us at nutshellstories@gmail.com

"Luke, I Am Your Father"...by Gina Waite

AHHHHH...summmer!  The colorful, late evening sunsets...the smell of fresh cut grass...the crisp sound of someone cutting a watermelon...AND the lazy days of summertime shenanigans!  I'm certain you know what I mean, I think we ALL have been there!  You remember those activities you find yourself becoming extremely excited about being involved in...mostly because you have so much free-time that repeating the iconic lines, "Luke...I am your father" into a box fan after your third basement flood still seems original and very James-Earl-Jones-esque!  (I may, or may not have, engaged in this activity with my kids just a week ago...sans the basement flood...sorry to parents who had to experience it WITH the basement flood..."tis the season!")

I remember the summer my brother Mike, and I, decided to recreate the roller skate disco craze in our very own garage!  Imagine the delight of my parents as we explained our desire to scrub the garage floor clean!  I recall there was very little hesitation in my Mom's validating reply...but our decision to engage in such an activity was purely motivated by our mind's eye vision of ourselves...rockin' out on roller skates...to the musical stylings of  Michael Jackson (consequently the only cassette tape I ever, actually wore out by listening to it so much!)  I coveted Mike's flawless skill at skating backwards and was determined that by the end of the summer I would have that skill mastered!  Like Ahab, I stared down "Moby Dick" (my inability to skate backwards) and conquered my fears...I was a skating-backwards-pro by the end of the summer...thousands of skating hours later!

Or how about the summer that my siblings and I collectively decided to hold our own Olympics!  No doubt it was after we all watched as Mary Lou Retton executed her perfected, and now legendary, "vault" exercise!  The pride we felt in watching her perform seemed to encourage us all to reach the same level of recognition by competing with other able-bodied athletes.  Able-bodied and much less skilled than the traditional athlete, we chose to compete in events like Olympic turf-dancing.  Noted for it's al fresco, grass-floored venue, Olympic turf-dancing became a fast favorite UNTIL the night Lora made the infamous decision to incorporate a prop.  A broomstick which she used to hold onto while she walked her legs out until her body, straight as an arrow, was almost parallel with the ground...all while keeping time to the catchy, Jackson 5 - Mick Jagger duet, "State of Shock!"  The aptly named song took on new meaning when the broomstick slid out from underneath Lora while onlookers (mostly her seven siblings) gasped in shock!  It was tragic for Lora to be deducted in her scores by the judges (also her seven siblings) so acutely while at the pinnacle of her Olympic success!

Last, but certainly not least,  the year Ringling, Barney and Bailey took residence in our backyard!  Most assuredly the year that my Mother had introduced us to the movie, "The Greatest Show on Earth!"  How could you watch something like that and not walk away with the desire to "fly on the trapeze" or "walk the tight rope?"  Without the proper "venue" for our circus, we became resourceful and used whatever we could find to "make due!"  This was especially tricky when  re-creating the tight rope walk!  My brother's and I knew where some nautical rope would be available (otherwise known as my Dad's fishing gear)  and we knew that it must be a quality, heavy duty rope to withstand our full weight...why we didn't consider the post strength that we were tying the rope to, is beyond me!   The tree's, otherwise known as tight rope posts, were well on their way to becoming beautiful and strong!  A quality that would have continued had they not have been forced almost completely horizontal by the weight of the "Terry-Tight-Ropers!"  I'm pretty sure "State of Shock" would have been perfect theme music as my Dad bolted out the open screen door to find his fishing gear in use to "fell" his prized trees!

As I said before...summer shenanigans...those activities that would normally seem impossible, or just plain stupid, end up engaging "children" everywhere in hours and hours of creative fun!  For those of you who are interested in skeet shooting, we recently recreated the sport by adding in the obstacle of not only hitting the clay pigeon but piercing through my Dad's down-filled sleeping bag as well!  As much as I'd like to expound on that summer shenanigan, I think I'll save that story for another Nutshell! 

♦ Hope you'll share YOUR stories and photos with us at: nutshellstories@gmail.com. 

Understanding and Living Life by Soren Kierkegaard and Mike Terry

Photo Courtesy of Mike Terry

Discovery...by William Arthur Ward and Jim Terry

Trust...by Mary Hazlett

Did you ever do those "trust" exercises... you know the ones where you stand on the edge of a table and then fall back into the arms of people...that you hopefully trust?  I did that a few times in my high school years and needless to say, I might have trusted these people but I was a little stressed out that their arms would not hold my weight.  I cannot say that I ever got dropped amongst the "ughs" and "ohs" I heard when landing in their arms.  

The definition of trust is reliance on the integrity, strength, ability and surety of a person or thing.   There are things that I trust...like the sun.  It will come up tomorrow and go down just as predicted. Also, I can trust that time will continue to march on although I have things that still need to be accomplished.  I can trust that my children will make me laugh, cry, and swear tomorrow...maybe all in about a 10 second time span.  Also, that my favorite Diet Mountain Dew will be the highlight of my breakfast and will get me through the rest of my day.  

The people we trust in our lives are a great treasure too.  My husband is ever reliable.  I call him "My Deep River", because he is true to his course, a source of life, and a force of good.  My dad is pretty awesome too.  I might refer to him as "My Energizer Bunny".  He just goes and goes and goes.  Of course, trust is people is quite different than trust in things.  It takes time, consistency and integrity to gain someone's trust.  

My darling little girl, just barely two years old gave me a great example of trust... We went riding on the four wheelers for nearly a whole day.  We were set up with Ben and I on one four wheeler and my dad and kids on the other four wheeler.  I just knew that this was going to be great and fun but truly I was a little nervous about how Nicole was going to be getting some rest on this very busy day.

Needless to say, she found comfort in her Pop's arms and took a little snooze on the trail.  If you look closely at the picture you can see her eyes are shut with complete and utter trust.  Though, I may have been happy to see my little girl so content with her Pop Pop... my reaction paled in comparison to my dad's.  He almost looks as content as my little girl in this picture.  

Trust is such a powerful thing in life.  It is a two-way street.  A favorite quote of mine is, 

Never be afraid to trust an unknown future to a known God.

Corrie Ten Boom 



Be happy this Monday and know that you are in good hands!
Share your stories with us at nutshellstories@gmail.com

Friday Fudge...by Mary Hazlett

Wahooo it is Friday...and what is better on a Friday than Fudge!!  Tried this recipe last night and it is tooooo die  for.  I got it from allrecipes.com Of course I added a little melted chocolate on top...Delicious! 3/4 cup peanut butter 1 teaspoon vanilla extract 3 1/2 cups confectioners' sugar 1/2 cup butter 2 1/4 cups brown sugar 1/2 cup milk

DIRECTIONS:

1.

Melt butter in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Stir in brown sugar and milk. Bring to a boil and boil for 2 minutes, stirring frequently. Remove from heat. Stir in peanut butter and vanilla. Pour over confectioners' sugar in a large mixing bowl. Beat until smooth; pour into an 8x8 inch dish. Chill until firm and cut into squares.

I don't mean to brag...by Gina Waite

Sat outside with my kiddo's the other day and started talking about the upcoming summer.   Our discussions covered: what they wanted to do, where they wanted to go and inevitably, how quickly they could go camping!  Tis the season for all-things-camping and with the enthusiasm for it almost tangible in the air, the kids pulled out the marshmallow roasting sticks and within just a few minutes, a fire had been made up in the urban fire bowl and smore's supplies ready-at-hand!

Watching my kids quickly load up their roasting sticks and plunge their marshmallows into the red-hot flames of the fire...trying desperately to find an area of orange ember instead of red flame...I cautioned them that they would probably burn their marshmallows.  One-by-one my kids held up their roasting sticks and a black, stubby version of a marshmallow remained...they laughed and so did I!  My daughter, too excited to wait for the fire to produce embers, decided she would just eat her burnt sugary goodness (formerly known as a marshmallow) and continued asking me when I would be roasting mine..."all in good time, my love, all in good time!"

Watching the fire crackle and pop I plotted and planned and awaited the perfect moment that would ensure a nicely browned marshmallow skin.  The embers, orange at last, beckoned me to hover my white marshmallow just above the most prominent glow of the fire.  Painstakingly turning my treasure from one side to the other, a light brown shell started to form and, much to my delight, I was cooking the perfect marshmallow!

Can one even verbalize the joy the comes from watching a soft, white piece of sugar transform into a lightly-browned, delicate-shelled, inner-gooeyed piece of sugary goodness?  Not very likely...cause it's absolute magic to behold!  Now I don't mean to brag but that night, with my children around me watching in awe, I produced what I think must be the world's BEST roasted marshmallow!  Think you can do better...well, I'll be waiting for those pictures, until then you can refer to me as: her Magesty, Ruler of Roasting ... Happy Camping!!!!

♦ Hope you'll share YOUR stories and photos with us at: nutshellstories@gmail.com. 

Keep Climbing...by Barry Finlay and Mike Terry

“Every mountain top is within reach if you just keep climbing.” 

― Barry Finlay, Kilimanjaro and Beyond

(photo courtesy of Mike Terry)

Where are you?...by Jim Terry

So who reading this had childhood goals and aspirations? And if so are you EXACTLY where you envisioned yourself to be and doing what you intended to do at this point in your life?  If you are…you really are in the minority.  As I have asked this of my friends and family most, if not all of us, are not where we expected ourselves to be from our childhood goals or dreams…As a young boy, I had a goal to “grow up” and become what I called a “fish counter" or an oceanographer. 

Those of you who knew me as a child know I always had a large fish tank in my room.  I could sit there for hours and be entertained simply by watching my fish swim around the tank. My favorite fish and the one that—amazingly—lasted for years was named Jabber Jaws. He started out as a small “common” goldfish and grew into a fish that was nearly a foot long.

Every summer we would put him out in the pond we had so he could grow and enjoy his summer’s outdoors.  I remember coming home from town one day after being at the arcade only to witness my Mother cleaning the pond that Jabber Jaws was in.  While cleaning the pond we would catch the fish we had put in there and place them in a bowl or other receptacle until the pond was cleaned and then place them back in the pond again.  This particular day my Mom was unable to catch Jabber Jaws before the cleaning and tried frantically to clean the pond before I got home so I would not notice.   

Upon my return and just before my Mom refilled the pond with water, the first question out of my mouth and directed towards my Mother was, “Where is Jabber Jaws?” 

With some hesitation and reluctance, my Mother pointed at some lava rocks that were cemented into the pond that helped create a beautiful waterfall. In the frustration of my Mother trying to catch Jabber Jaws,  he became frightened and had lodged himself between two rocks and was sitting there bug-eyed while being completely out of the water…Amazingly that dumb fish survived in lieu of being out of the water for over a half hour and being bleached during the cleaning process.

I will never forget that my Mom took me aside that day and said she felt she had “traumatized” me and could see that she had “altered” her little boy’s path.  I laugh at it now, but since I was an 8-year-old kid and that being MY FISH, it turned out to be pretty traumatic day for me wondering whether or not my fish would live or die.  

(SIDE NOTE)...I must confess and let you in on a secret. My decision in NOT becoming an oceanographer was truly changed not from this experience but when I was finally able to watch the movie Jaws!  A great white shark that is truly aggressive and attacks swimmers at night and jumps onto boats…no thanks! :)

Now I’m not trying to tell you some of these memories to bore you to death or to let you know why I didn’t become the “fish counter” but to merely point out a really great quote that I recently saw.

I believe we all have moments in our life where we question where we are at in our lives at that moment and say, “If I would have”,  “I should have” or “if I could do it all over again.”…Don’t we?   I have done this myself especially on those warm beautiful days when I am “stuck” in a dental office verses being out on a boat with the sights and sounds of the ocean.  

So in the future or the next time you wonder “where are you” in your life, maybe consider this…

“There's nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be...” 
― John Lennon

Words We Don't Say... by Ben Hazlett

You may have noticed that we missed a blog on Friday. I would like to say that it was intentional... that, perhaps, it was a moment of silence to honor fathers, both living and those who have passed on.  But the fact of the matter is we had a busy week and we just didn't get to it.

That "moment of silence" idea is a good one though. After all, sometimes what we don't say is more important than what we do say.  For instance, the fact that we didn't have time to write on Friday is an indication that our family, work, and church responsibilities took precedence over blogging.

What other messages might be more importantly communicated by not saying anything?  Here's a few that I came up with.  The first might be exemplified  by the statement: "I really like them... and by that I mean "they couldn't be more annoying!": Of course, the most obvious example of words we don't say is sarcasm and non-verbal communication.  Isn't it interesting how we can say the exact same words and covey a completely different message. We often do this with out even meaning to.  Like when you can't stand the dinner your mom or wife made and you say "this is good," but you miss getting the right inflection, so the response you get is "you don't like it do you?"  I would venture to guess that this is where guys fall down more often than most other times.  Especially if your pregnant wife asks you "does this make me look fat?"  No matter what your inflection is at that point, you probably aren't getting out alive.  Or you might long for someone to say they love you or appreciate you.  These types of words left unsaid can be difficult and painful.

However, there are many instances in my own experience where words we don't say have taught me powerful lessons. For instance, the words not said might have been:

"I will sacrifice for you": I was about 14 and basketball and being accepted in the "popular" crowd was starting to be evermore important.  I remember asking for Nike "Air Jordan's" or Reebok "Pumps" because this was an essential component in my plans make it to the NBA and consequently have everlasting happiness (since athletes and celebrities are always so happy and well adjusted).  One time I was in my dad's closet looking for something and I noticed that all of his shoes were worn and of the less than desirable Payless vintage.  Stupidly, I asked my mom, "why doesn't dad have any Nikes?"  Came the response, "because you do."  He never said anything about it, to my knowledge he never even questioned it.  Giving me more than he had was just who he was. That lesson continues with me today and the unspoken words "I will sacrifice for you, because I love you," were imprinted on my heart far more deeply than if he would have just told me he loved me.

"You must be honest": Much earlier my mother taught me a life lesson as well.  I was 5 or 6 and completely bored out of my mind at the grocery store.  With out really thinking about it I grabbed a peanut off the bulk item shelf.  I examined it for a moment and then cracked it open. I felt a twinge of gilt as I popped it into my mouth.  Soon after that it was finally time to go. We had driven less than a mile when the guilt got to me and I confessed everything.  I thought that would be good enough, but my mother turned the car around and drove back to Albertson's.  My mom accompanied me back into the store, gave me a nickel and told me to go pay for my peanut.  There are only a few more embarrassing moments in my life, but not many.  As I stammered through trying to explain to the amused and slightly confused clerk that I wanted to pay for 1 peanut that I had eaten, I thought "how could she do this to me."  As I recall, we never had a specific discussion about honesty... we didn't have to.  She made it clear what was expected and after that I couldn't even pick up a penny off the ground because it wasn't mine.

"I Love you": As I mentioned, I took some time off this week to watch the kids while Mary was at girls camp.  Benson has spent the last month asking every day if it was time for daddy week.  He had every inch of our time planned from a trip to a petting zoo to swimming to a tour of his favorite parks.  No matter how much we do, at night he asks me what time I'm leaving in the morning and how early I can get home from work so that he can squeeze in as much time as possible. When I am home he is right by my side doing everything with me.  Many times when I am working on something around the house it can easily become a bit difficult.  I must admit that I don't always have patience with this, however, when I'm really paying attention and I look into his innocent little eyes I know he is saying "I love you daddy."  He does tell me that he loves me too, but nothing reinforces it more than having my little shadow following me everywhere and wanting nothing more than to be with dad.

As you would expect on Father's Day, I think a lot about my own dad.  He exemplified teaching and  loving without saying anything at all.  He just went about doing good, being honest, and providing as best he could for my family.  While I'm sure he would have loved to give us much more in terms of monetary and physical comforts, he excelled in providing us with all the lessons of life by quietly showing us and leaving us to fill in the words he didn't have to say.  I will always strive to be more like that and my greatest hope is that I can be the kind of father that I was so fortunate to have.

So... always You may have noticed that we missed a blog on Friday. I would like to say that it was intentional... that, perhaps, it was a moment of silence to honor fathers, both living and those who have passed on.  But the fact of the matter is we had a busy week and we just didn't get to it.   

That "moment of silence" idea is a good one though. After all, sometimes what we don't say is more important than what we do say.  For instance, the fact that we didn't have time to write on Friday is an indication that our family, work, and church responsibilities took precedence over blogging. 

So be careful what you say... and what you don't! Please feel free to share other stories of word's not said in your life.

You Haven't Met My Dad...by Gina Waite

"You want to take a what ... a selfie????????"  After questioning me, my dad took a long, deep breath as he looked down at the ground to walk over to the bench where I was seated and dutifully, sat by my side!   My dad obliged me but I'm certain every bone in his body shook from having to endure, said "selfie"!  (I realize these are not the best picts, but I had to hurry before my Dad left!)  
If you haven't met my Dad ... you wouldn't understand!  My Dad, the quintessential man's man, the epitome of masculinity and strength ... having to deal with a blondie ... wanting a selfie ... with him, of all things!  ...And that's just it, he does stuff like "selfie's"  ALL the time because besides being a John-Wayne-of-a-man, he's also a DAD!

I've always admired my Dad!  As a little girl, I remember feeling like my Dad was as invincible as those Super hero's!  Invincible ... and incredibly talented!  I watched in awe as he bowled, a strike after strike!  I witnessed the painstaking and guided precision of his fillet knife in cleaning ALL the fish he caught! The perfected execution and trajectory of the horseshoe from his hand (never met anyone that could consistently beat him!)  His continued ability to build the sturdiest and straightest of walls (I would know ... he built my house.)  And his ability to troubleshoot and figure out most electrical and mechanical problem in a household of eight children!  ... And as remarkable as all this is, his most redeeming quality has always been his good-natured, always-optimistic, glass-is-nearly-full attitude!  A quality that has blessed me time and time again!

At six years old, I had the incredible urge to try my hand at becoming a cosmetologist! As I didn't have any regular clients, I convinced my brother (Mike) to let me have a try at his hair!  Around this same time in my life, my Mom had perfected the art of ponytails!  Two ponytails, one on either side of my  head, with beautiful, hand-crafted ringlets at the bottom of each.  Seeing me all beautified and done-up was a great joy for my Mom!  A joy, I later realized,  that was somewhat attached to those two, beautiful ponytails!  So when I decided that experimenting as Edward Scissorhands with Mike's hair was not enough ... and turned the scissors on my own hair cutting off the very ponytails that brought my Mother such joy ... an official state of mourning ensued and my poor Mother almost couldn't speak to me about it! 

Having cut the ponytails off underneath the elastics and directly next to my scalp, my Mom's only suggested option for salvage was to cut everything off and perm it!  A perm that was so tight in curl that it was difficult to make out that the areas underneath the rubber bands where I had almost scalped myself.  Driving home from the "Foxy Loxy" hair salon and completely deflated  from the disappointment I had thrust upon my Mom...I relegated myself to the backyard!  As I sat there on the swing, weighing my options of run-away or indentured servitude, my Dad pulled into the circular drive!  A welcomed relief to the guilt I was feeling, I bolted to his two ton truck and jumped into his arms.  One look on my face and he knew this was not the time to bring up my poodle-inspired hairdo!

With all the optimism he could gather, my Dad simply said, "Wow that's a cute little haircut!  You look beautiful, my little sweetheart of the hills!"  On that day, at that particular moment, my heart was so full of love for my Dad that I threw my arms around his neck and remained unmoved until he'd made his way into the house! 

Now ... My Dad has never been to the moon (at least I don't think he has) and he's never ran a touchdown for the winning goal at the Super Bowl (pretty sure about that one) ... but that day I was reminded that in this sometimes negative world we live in, "some people may not believe in hero's...but that's because they haven't met My Dad!" 

Happy Father's Day to a most wonderful Father!!! 
With Love, 
~your little sweetheart of the hills!

♦ Hope you'll share YOUR stories and photos with us at: nutshellstories@gmail.com. 

Light house...by Ben Sweet land and Mike Terry

Quote by Ben Sweetland

Photo by Mike Terry

"You Look Good"...by Jim Terry

Just the other day I wanted to start the day out right so I woke up early and got a great workout in and was ready to face the world.  I also figured that since I had just burned off some calories that I could afford to stop by one of my favorite bakeries and feed my craving for some sugar. In doing so, I figured I would spread a little good cheer amongst my co-workers by getting enough doughnuts for them as well. What possibly could go wrong with a day that started as it did? 

As I walked into the bakery, I could see my favorite employee standing behind the counter as that wonderful aroma of sugary goodness filled my lungs.  I began the conversation this particular morning with this employee, a sweet small Asian lady in her fifties I have known for over two years now, by telling her, “Good Morning.” 

As the conversation continued she noticed that I had just mailed something in the mailbox just outside of her storefront.  I expressed to her that I had just mailed a birthday card and that I was grateful that I have a month coming up without any birthdays that I need to find a card or buy a gift for.

 *NOTE…When you have a large family this is really hard to do at times…having a month without a parent, a sibling, a niece or a nephew that you have to buy a gift for.

As the conversation continued she asked me how old I was and what month my birthday was in.  After I told her the month of my birthday and how many years YOUNG I was, she proceeded to say, “You look good…for your age!”  Just so you know, the ellipse is there specifically because she said, “You look good”, then paused slightly and then said, “for your age.” 

 So how should one take that really?  When people say a statement like that, why don’t they just say, “You look good?” And if they are going to add “for your age” onto the end of that particular sentence, then wouldn’t it be appropriate to know a percentage?  For instance, am I in the top 50% of looking good for my age or is it in the bottom 50% according to you?  Or better yet am I am in the top 5% or heaven forbid…the bottom 5%. 

Also as I thought about this, maybe she meant something different.  Maybe, just maybe, she thought I looked younger than I told her I was and that is why she said, “You look good…FOR YOUR AGE?”  After all, I am still a “KID AT HEART” right? 

It's hard to really know what she meant that morning and I really have not taken offense to it because she is a friend, but am I the only one or have any of you had this directed at you?  And if you have heard it, how did you take it or what can be perceived of a statement like that when it is directed at you? 

Just so you know and in regards to getting older, I am looking forward to the forgetfulness so when I hear a statement like that, I will only be able to remember the first part…"YOU LOOK GOOD!" …And to all the critics out there that might say or refer to YOUR or MY “oldness” in a possible negative connotation,  I say we refer back to the “kid at heart” in all of us and just say… “THPTPTHTHPTPTH!”

♦Hope you'll let us share your stories and photos here at "In a Nutshell." Email us at nutshellstories@gmail.com.