Commentaries by Cynthia - Stories

Kooky Answers from Emode

Fri, 19 Feb 2010 15:49:13 -0500

*Note* I stumbled upon this column that I wrote almost a decade ago. Emode has since changed their name to Tickle.com, and I no longer visit their site. I guess some things you just out-grow.

If you like to take personality quizzes, Emode.com has dozens of them from which to choose. It is one of my favorite sites on the Internet, although I think the Web developer intended it more for teenage girls than 30-something women. But I enjoy learning more about myself, and Emode makes it easy. It takes only minutes to click through a quiz, and I receive the calculated results seconds later.

A Test of Compassion

Wed, 10 Jun 2009 09:49:21 -0400

I saw them from my front porch.

They were a middle-aged couple, walking up the street in the direction of a nearby outdoor concert. She somehow lost her balance and fell backward, hitting the curb and rolling several feet down a small grassy bank. There were gasps and gawks from those passing by, but no one moved to assist her as she lay dazed and struggling to pick herself up again. Instinct kicked in, and I ran across the street, then I knelt beside her and helped her into a sitting position. At that moment, I noticed that her hand was outstretched, but it was not my help that she was reaching for - it was her partner’s, who stood towering over her, as if to say, “You get yourself up.”

Longing for Mayberry, RFD

Tue, 26 May 2009 10:31:33 -0400

*Note* Finally, a new column!

Decades after the television show first hit the airwaves in the 1960's, the Andy Griffith show continues to pull in audiences and fans through the fine art of syndication.

North Carolinians in particular love the show since it portrays our state in a wholesome light. Times seemed simpler and quieter then, and all disputes could be settled amicably by a kind-hearted sheriff who always knew the right thing to say or do regardless of the situation. There was only one criminal in town and that was the town drunk, Otis, who was really just a big ol’ loveable misfit. In Mayberry, there was no profanity, the streets were always clean, and neighbors looked out for each other. By the end of each episode, you turned off your television set, believing that having faith, family, and friends were what life in a small North Carolina town was all about.

The Wizard of Just Cause

Wed, 22 Apr 2009 10:09:21 -0400

*Note* Just a little creative expression or storytelling.

“What is this place?" Summer wondered, looking around in sad awe at the numerous rows of people hooked into machines known as telephones. She shuddered, feeling a chill in the air. “Have I been transported into a real-life version of the Matrix or the Twilight Zone?” In a dreamlike state, she weaved through the labyrinth of cubicles and sat at a desk with a computer. Reaching out, she touched the keyboard hesitantly.

On the screen appeared the face of a man in his thirties with sandy brown hair and wire-rimmed glasses. “Welcome,” he said in a flat, monotone voice. “You are in my world now.” His smile turned into a smirk. “I own you - all of you. In fact, you don’t even exist anymore.”

The Ghost of Chloe

Sat, 25 Oct 2008 13:14:37 -0400

While growing up, I had several dogs as pets, and I loved them dearly. When they later died, I grieved as though I’d lost a best friend. Cats, on the other hand, were harder to bond with, their air of aloofness keeping me at a distance. It was only as an adult living in a small house in town that I gave up my love of dogs and conveniently invested in two cats as pets.

Murdock, the male feline, belongs to my daughter. And Chloe, the sweet female, was the cat I called my own. I say “was” because Chloe recently died. She developed cancer, and when she became so sick that she could barely walk, I took her to the vet and had her put to sleep. I cried as I retrieved her little body and brought it home for burial. The last seven years of my life had been spent with Chloe as my constant companion, and I had much grief over the loss of my feline friend.

The Power of Gentleness

Mon, 11 Feb 2008 12:27:45 -0500

Everyday I get hits on this site by people searching under the term Toxic Work Environment. This means there are a lot of people in the world who are feeling victimized while trying to earn a living. I have been there and know how painful, confusing, and helpless a toxic work environment can make you feel. Dirty office politics is usually the culprit, which is fueled by silly human pride, power-plays, and basic greed. Knowing the cause, however, is of little consolation when you’re being backed into a corner by egotistical and uncaring people.

Anyway, I was thinking along these lines one night, and the following column was the end result.

The Power of Gentleness

“You’ve got to take care of yourself,” I hear people say. “Because no one else will.” In this rough and tumble world, we’ve fallen into the trap of believing that, in order to survive, we have to take down others. The “survival of the fittest” mentality might have served humanity well at one time - say, back in caveman days, but is it really necessary in the 21st century?

I’m not referring to wars and other man-made catastrophes. I’m talking very simply about no longer tearing other people down in order to build up one’s own ego or nest egg. I’m talking about no longer treating other people as food or as stepping stones that you walk over on your way to higher ground. I’m talking about sharing the power instead of hoarding it as your own.

Remembering Alma

Tue, 22 Jan 2008 10:15:15 -0500

“In the end, only kindness matters.” singer, Jewel

During the six years that I worked with her at Wachovia, Alma was both my friend and surrogate mother. She listened to me whenever I needed an ear. She advised me whenever I needed direction in my life. And she encouraged me whenever I needed hope.

Alma was one of those dear souls I've come to regard as the salt of the earth kind; a rare and precious breed who is so greatly needed in the world. Sadly, you will not find many people like Alma, especially in today's competitive workforce.

The Calling

Sun, 30 Dec 2007 23:46:05 -0500

2007 was supposed to be an ordinary year, but something unusual began happening early last spring.

Late at night as I tried to sleep, something or someone seemed to be calling my name. Mind you, I did not hear an actual voice; it was more like a spiritual or telepathic calling from beyond. "Cynthia...Cynthia...Cynthia..."

(No, I'm not making this up.)

After nearly a week of this unrelenting repetition of my name, I threw back the covers and said, "What? What is that you want from me?"

(No, I was not intoxicated or otherwise inebriated at the time.)

Now, I've heard ministers talk about "the calling" but I always believed this was a somewhat fanciful term to describe one's decision to pursue the ministry. Wrong. Spirit does make its presence known and will not let up until you do whatever it wants you to do.

It's A New Year

Sun, 30 Dec 2007 23:25:34 -0500

(This was written several years ago. While I still believe in these words, I've since come to realize that forgiveness isn't something you can force yourself to do. You can only decide to be willing to forgive and then turn the rest over to God or your Higher Power.)

It may be just another date on the calendar to some, but New Year's has always been one of my favorite holidays.

It signifies the end of the busy Holiday Season, enabling me to relax again. At last, I can stop worrying about the extra cooking and cleaning, the running to and fro, the scheduling, the shopping, and the wrapping and sometimes returning of gifts.

Night Sounds

Mon, 10 Dec 2007 11:03:44 -0500

Was the farmhouse in which my children and I resided for five years haunted?

I wouldn't say that, as haunted tends to imply supernatural happenings that are malicious in nature. If there was a spirit dwelling in the farmhouse, it was more mischievous and curious.

My children and I were trying to go to sleep. My then eight year-old daughter and I were cuddled up in a bed together in a room across the hallway from my son. He was twelve at the time and not comfortable suddenly being the man of the house following a recent marital separation. What deepened his trepidation at night was the small tree right outside his window, since an outside yard light cast ominous shadows of the braches through the window shade in his room.

Left to His Own Devices

Tue, 30 Oct 2007 13:27:55 -0400

While growing up, my bothers and sisters and I enjoyed hearing our father speak of his days in the military.

Dad said one of the first things he learned in the Marine Corps was not to ask why or how. Those in charge would tell you to do something, and if you didn’t understand exactly what to do, they’d get offended and act huffy while providing instructions or more information.

When the Quiet Make Noise

Thu, 09 Aug 2007 10:42:35 -0400

People say that I am a quiet person. I’ve even been called shy or demure when people first get to know me. However, nothing ignites my outspoken side more than seeing or experiencing unfair treatment.

Injustice straightens my spine, propels me forward and enables me to find my voice. I become more like Julia Sugarbaker from Designing Women, passionately defending the underdog with a litany of strongly held convictions, leaving my listeners speechless and looking very stunned.

“Who knew she could talk so much?” they seem to silently ask themselves, “And with such boldness?” I also detect some fearfulness in these people, as though they’ve just witnessed the proverbial quiet person “snapping.” I think they expect to see my face on the 11 o’clock news later that night, after I’ve been arrested for shooting innocent bystanders on the way home.

In William's Honor

Tue, 17 Jul 2007 12:09:56 -0400

It’s been a year since my nephew passed away, and he crosses my mind almost daily. So I'd like to make this blog entry in his honor and memory.

I was only five year’s-old when I became an aunt.

Still too young to understand what the term entailed, I can only recall that there was a new infant boy in the family who was suddenly getting the bulk of everyone’s attention. No longer was I “the baby” in a large family -- he was, and I remember begrudgingly accepting the fact.

There were medical concerns with the new family member. Something was wrong with his heart. It was a murmur that would require close observation. Then, when he was two or three, he ate a bunch of pain relievers that he thought were M &M’s. The lethargic toddler was rushed to the hospital, where his stomach was pumped, as the doctors claimed, “in the nick of time.”

Frankie Valli -- A Nice Guy

Fri, 13 Jul 2007 19:29:58 -0400

One is not likely to forget the first time they interviewed a bona fide celebrity.

When my editor offered me the chance to sit in on a press conference with Frankie Valli at the [local] Community Center, I jumped at the chance. After all, opportunities like this do not come around everyday.

Arriving at the appointed hour, I waited in the lobby while the band adjusted their equipment in the sound stage. The theme from Grease resonated through the closed doors of the auditorium. It was raining furiously, and early attendees of the reception soon poured into the lobby. With notebook and pen, I found a quiet corner and jotted down some questions I hoped to ask Mr. Valli.

The Day a Princess Died and a Wife Packed Her Bags

Mon, 25 Jun 2007 14:19:45 -0400

(It's been almost 10 years now, and no, I've never regretted my decision to leave. I only wish I'd done it sooner.)

By the way, Princess Diana was also an INFP.

Like most people my age or older, I can remember exactly where I was when Elvis died and what I was doing on that August day in 1977. To a somewhat lesser degree, I can remember what was going in in my life when a crazed fan shot and killed John Lennon. I was a freshman in high school and it was the same school year that President Reagan was shot, which I can remember quite well.