Money Signifies Worth; How much we Earn Defines our Value

“Celebration” 20 x 16 Acrylic on Gesso Board

I wanted to be a writer from the time I was in third grade. My first short story was written on a script tablet I used to learn cursive. By the time I reached high school, I won an award and was featured in our school’s “Whispering Pines” literary magazine. I loved the written word and the power it held over my heart.

It was only natural that I continued to write even after I got married and began raising my six children. Hidden moments were stolen during nap times, and ideas generated while ironing, serving as a chauffeur, cleaning and even bathing. There wasn‘t a time that I wasn’t imagining, phrasing, or constructing in my head.

When I finally started writing things down and actually creating, I had already started selling a few of my wares. I had read so many stories to my children as they grew up that I figured I could write a few of my own. Finally I was receiving validation for my hours of work. Until that time, my efforts were considered a waste of time by my family and friends who were ultra conservative and devoted to saving themselves by their own efforts and working in their church and community.

There is something to be said for volunteering and doing things for free. I was able to hone my skills by crafting stories, plays and scripts for local church and community groups until I developed my talents enough to write for profit.

Great things can come from the giving of your time and talents for a good cause. What can happen?

• Recognition; people become familiar with your face, your name, and your reputation for excellency and dependability.
• Opportunity; if someone is looking for a writer or an artist, they may think of you through past experiences together.
• Connections; exchanging of personal information, business cards, and shared work sticks in people’s minds. They will refer you to someone else when a job is needed.

“Bella Bellissimo” 16 x 20 Acrylic on canvas

I met a photographer at my church that saw my creativity firsthand at one of my events. He asked me to meet with him and that opportunity led to my writing of many, many scripts that were used in children’s education. Our divorce series (four films) won the New York Film Festival for “Best Series” that year. The photographer I worked with also introduced me to “The Learning Exchange” where I wrote some fun economic scripts for children on the history of barter and exchange.

Through another connection (that started when I was doing things for free), I was able to move into adult training and education scripts for a large insurance company; writing on subjects like “Structured Settlements” and “Claims Training.” By the time I finished these projects, I was getting referrals from other entities: major airline companies, and many school districts that were promoting education and safety.

By this time I had taken up drawing, illustrating and painting. My goal was to illustrate some of my own work. Getting paid had turned my so-called “waste of time activities” into making a real contribution to the family budget and becoming totally independent for my own sustenance.

It’s too bad that we allow our own self doubts, the  criticism of others or money to define us: “You’re not good enough, experienced enough, or talented enough to get paid for your efforts.” In the beginning, most of us must work for free. But don’t give up! Your generous heart will eventually be rewarded.

“Peaches ‘n Cream” 12 x 16 Acrylic on Gesso Board

So much for Thrift for Thrift’s Sake

“With these Hands — Love” a child loves her daddy while he sleeps.

Some people are more thrifty than others. As a spouse, with a family, you learn to pinch pennies, clip coupons and sometimes go without. But when thrift becomes the dominant force that drives your focus, and people’s feelings become less important than the “all mighty dollar,” you have a problem.

My daughter was married to such a man who suggested that she fashion her own sanitary products in order to save money. They also fed their dog old bakery scraps they received for free. In the end, the dog’s diet made him fat and unhealthy and their marriage started on the road to ruin.

These thrifty types will crop a dog’s ears and toenails without proper medical skill or tools. They find any means to get ahead even if it means “fudging” a little here or there, or even lying if necessary.

“Bella Bellissimo” acrylic on canvas SOLD (prints available)

I also endured years of lectures about how much shampoo I should use (a dime-size dab); how many squares of toilet tissue was appropriate, and how much I was allowed to cut off the top of a strawberry. If I told you all of the other rules that surrounded my day, your head would spin, so I won’t.

“Waste not, want not” was not only a saying, it was a way of life. Our parents and grandparents went through the Great Depression. They lived in fear that there may not be money for the next meal. The Salvation Army and other charities kept many people alive until they could get on their feet.

For those lucky enough to have the space, a garden and a few chickens provided the sustenance to feed a family and perhaps sell the extra produce for money.

On a well-traveled road not far from where I live sits a small stand with a canvas top for protection from the rain. A brother and sister “man the fort” on weekends selling Georgia peaches, home-grown tomatoes and sweet Vidalia onions.

In our present economy there are signs everywhere of poverty and continuing unemployment. When the Stock Market plunged to new lows, I wondered if our country would slide even further into hard times.

“Money is the root of all evil,” the Bible says. But it is the obsession of money that is evil. The kicker is that thrifty people sometimes obsess over finances and subordinate other people’s needs in their miserly attempts to save money and to get more.

A Joyful Heart, 11 x 14 pastel in Bristol; matted and ready to frame.

We’ve all read stories of millionaires and billionaires who died in poverty without ever spending a nickel for the simplest of pleasures. They didn’t take it with them. They never shared their abundance with a loved one or a neighbor. They went tight-fisted to the grave, but their grasp, their hearts were empty.

Money hard-earned should be saved, invested, and wisely spent. Being thrifty is prudent and smart when you have little of it and your needs include retirement, a home, and your children’s education. A couple need to work on this together and in consultation with each other so they have mutual goals. It is lack of communication that is the downfall of many.

Being thrifty is a good thing in hard times. Obsessing or pinching pennies and allowing money to become your focus, your God is when it becomes a destructive force which may lead to evil actions and failure.

Easy Come, Easy Go or is there a Better Way?

How much money do you spend each year on entertainment? This includes concert tickets, movies, theater, alcohol, restaurants and vacations. If you have children, how much of your budget goes to music or dance lessons? Athletic activities and events? Day care? Summer camps, smart phones and computers?

The funny thing is that while most people are willing to spend enormous sums on technology and fun, they spend very little on the basic necessities of life. People fork over money for life’s luxuries and pleasures, but they are less likely to spend money on simple things like a new toothbrush. I’ve known people to use one toothbrush for a whole year! The brushes are splayed, and just think of the bacteria that live there? And you can get a toothbrush on sale for .99 cents.

Some forego purchasing paper towels, napkins or toothpaste thinking they are saving money by using soda to brush their teeth, and substituting paper for cloth napkins and towels forgetting the cost of water, electricity and detergents to wash them.

I’m a three napkin a meal kind of girl. I never was neat, even as a child. And Bounty paper towels that tear in half save me time and money when I need to mop up a spill or spot-wash my white kitchen tiles. We all have to decide how we spend our money and what is worth the cost.

When I think of people with addictions and how much they spend (or steal) for drugs it blows my mind. Not to mention cigarettes and booze; which may lead to expensive medical bills later.

Food alone consumes a huge chunk of change. Add to that housing and rental costs and you’ve got an oversized budget. Does everyone max out their credit cards these days?

My parents suffered through the “great depression.” My mother recalls that one week they had only one can of soup to get by on, and she was also pregnant. They were so grateful for the Salvation Army’s Soup Kitchen without which they would not have survived.

Because of their struggles, they were ever grateful for the blessings that later came into their lives. I was 14 before they owned their first home. For years, we lived in an upstairs apartment over my Scandinavian grandparent’s house. My father didn’t have a car until I was 12. That first home was their pride and joy. They gave it plenty of spit and polish and lots of love. My father never allowed his daughters to drive his car because it was his only means of transportation to work.

In the backyard, they planted a garden for vegetables and filled the rest of the yard with flowers. Their rose bushes were tended to like children. Raspberry bushes grew along the fence line. I remember them saying that they enjoyed making their home and yard beautiful in thanksgiving to their God who sustained them in hard times and then blessed them with plenty.

After they were gone, I went back to my hometown to see our old homestead. I was shocked with what I saw. The once pruned hedges and green lawns were weedy and brown. There was no longer a garden. The flowers were gone. The house was unpainted. The yard unkempt. My heart wept.

What causes people to turn beauty into decay? Where are the pride and gratitude for owning a home and property? Some people hold gold dust in their hands and then quickly let it slip through their fingers. It’s all about setting priorities and giving back.

Thanksgiving is not just a once a year acknowledgement of blessings received. Every day the words “thank you” should find their way into our hearts and pass from our lips. “Through small and simple means, great things come to pass.”

Run Your Laps Every Day – Reach for the Stars not the Dazzle of Fool’s Gold

“Namesake” 24×18 acrylic on canvas

My oldest daughter ran track as did her younger brother. I remember the grueling contests, the aching muscles, and the near collapse after a race, the throwing up afterward, the dark side of competition all for the ribbons, the glory, the win.

Running gets in your blood. It drives you. My daughter could run miles on the steam of anger leaving from our house and traveling for sympathy to see her friend in another county; a different city.

I watched them both compete and admired their persistence. Peer pressure helped, but the adrenaline rush after a track meet was addictive.

I tried it a few times at the YMCA. The track was the diameter of the building. I ran around and around, and around. 15 laps equaled one mile. I did a lot of counting (and forgetting), and counting again. My “round” trip was tedious and boring. My goal wasn’t to win. I was competing against myself. The end game was to lose 10 pounds. I didn’t last long enough.

“With These Hands — Hope” Oil on acrylic under painting; 16×20 canvas

I discovered that the difference between success and failure, for me, was being outdoors. I knew where to walk and just how long I needed to go. I used my car to gauge the distance. I started with five miles, then ten. After a few weeks, the pounds started to melt away. Exercise is much easier than counting calories, and more fun.

Every athlete, every runner knows you have to put in the time. It’s no different with any other skill or profession. Time equals distance, equals gain. “No pain, no gain;” you’ve heard it a million times.

The difference between success and failure is often as simple as this. One person spends his or her time vegging out in front of the “Boob Tube” while the other one does the laps, the practice, and the work to improve his or her skills or business.

One person reads books related to their interests and dreams, and another would rather spend his time making things with his hands. If either develops a skill and a driving interest, they have a shot at success.

Open Book” 20×16 Oil on acrylic under painting; Original SOLD, but prints are available.

What is success? Does it mean money? Does it mean having all the toys and whistles? Or does it simply mean doing something that rewards you with fulfillment, satisfaction and a decent living? Of course, the answers are unique to each individual. But I guarantee that if you were in a devastating tornado or a destructive hurricane, you’d probably say what most people on T.V. say in the aftermath:

“These are just things. We can replace things. But my family – thank God they’re all alive!”

If you haven’t yet discovered what you’re willing to live or to die for, you haven’t really lived. If there is nothing on this earth for which you are willing to sacrifice your time, effort, and devotion to besides yourself, you haven’t really loved.

Many people can’t understand faith or a belief in something greater than themselves. Without a guiding force it is easy to get caught up in the moment and waste your time on quick gratification or cheap thrills. A guiding force or higher power can help you resist that which hinders your growth and success. A deep inner peace can empower you to run your laps, every day, until you reach the heights of your potential. It costs nothing, but it will change your life forever.

Tis the Season that Memories are being Made All Over the World!

We usually repeat what’s pleasant: a beloved piece of music, an old storybook, a novel reread until the stitching comes loose on the binding. Old movies are another sweet experience we enjoy reliving over and over again.

Warm memories shared may replay in our minds especially if their associated with a holiday or vacation. Rituals we cherish with those we love are automatically recorded and later brought to mind in times of loneliness or pain.

Before bed, my children adored stories, songs and “cuddles and kisses.” When I was in a hurry, I’d rush through a rhyme my Uncle Walt taught to me: “I’ll tell you a story about Annie and Norrie; and now my story’s begun. I’ll tell you another about my brother, and now my story is done.”

My kids were so disappointed. “No, no, not that one,” they wailed. Read Go Dog Go!” Dr. Seuss was always a favorite. As a result, a familiar chant “Go, around again, dog” was said when someone had to repeat an action or they wanted a do-over.

The Chipmunks brought us “Pardōn” with the appropriate response: “wee wee, Monsieur.” That phrase still slips out in my speech today, even though no one is around who is familiar with this practice. I respond, even though I’m alone, with an appropriate “wee wee, Monsieur.” Old habits die hard.

If one of my sons came up with a bright idea or outsmarted a brother or a sister, they would put a small finger beside their nose and say: “I be smart” thanks to old “Ben Gunn, a character from “Treasure Island” that they enjoyed imitating. The books we read together and the fun we shared found its way into our vocabulary and in our interactions with others.

I had a friend who always lamented that she was a “terrible mother.” She wasn’t patient. She was too busy working and didn’t spend as much time with her boys as she would have liked. One day she fell and fractured a rib. In the process of dealing with it, the doctors found she had a tumor on her kidney and was near kidney failure. She immediately went into hospice.

I was there for her funeral. I wondered what these “neglected boys, now men, would say about their mother?” Had they been unhappy? Did they feel ignored and alone?

The memorial service spared nothing. A presentation of slides and photos revealed it all – the happy faces, the rough and tumble play, the picnics and the story telling. One by one each son stood and expressed his love and gratitude toward a mother who never knew, perhaps because they had failed to tell her.

Each son quoted passages from famous authors and their books. Shakespeare was a favorite. Biblical passages once memorized were used in praising her. Some had been used in helping them make difficult decisions in life. Their mother’s influence had been with them throughout their lives and had helped them to cherish great literature, to glean wisdom from its pages, and to live honorably because of it.

This faithful woman had died thinking she was a failure; that she should have done more. Yet her sons had blossomed under her care into doctors, attorneys and teachers. They had become good citizens, neighbors, husbands and fathers. Small and insignificant things do matter!

The unique touch of a mother’s hand can leave an indelible imprint on the future of the world. What if these sons had focused on her deficiencies and mistakes; would they have achieved as much recognition and success as they apparently had? Would they see their lives half-full instead of brimming with laughter and knowledge?

The perfect life doesn’t exist. We never have enough time or money to do all of the things we wish to do before our own demise. Sometimes our bucket list never gets finished. The best we can do is to let the people we care about know how much we love them so they don’t end up like my late friend, never knowing the truth.

Some of my “Grands”

Relevance – Who Matters Most and Who Matters Least?

Four generations

Society deems some people relevant and necessary while others are irrelevant and of lesser importance. The uneducated, the downtrodden, and the so-called dregs of society found in prisons or sleeping on our city streets are in the latter category. Labeled as un-useful, a burden to others, and a drain on public resources, they are often ignored, uncared for and unloved.

For many years, motherhood was frowned upon. While I was raising a family of six children, I often received scathing glances from those who thought I was nothing more than a “baby machine,” even though each child was wanted and adored.

Today being pregnant is “fashionable” and “trendy,” especially for the jet set and the famous. If the mother-to-be is unwed or impregnated by a boyfriend or from artificial insemination, that’s even better. The starlets sport their growing bellies with pride; such compassionate women, these, burgeoning goddesses ripe with fruit, about to replenish the earth.

My grandson, Andy, the day before his wedding.

In the sixties, the world was on the edge of disaster from “over population.” Fear fed the rumors that food and commodities would become scarce. There was no room at anyone’s “inn” for more children. Abortion was the answer. Millions of Einstein’s, Beethoven’s, and potential writers, artists, and scientists were crucified on the altar of convenience, ideology, and false premises in the name of freedom and women’s rights.

Although the tables have turned once again, the abortion mills are still running at fever pitch. Motherhood is having resurgence, but it is promoted by single mothers in diverse circumstances and applauded by gender blended families. Traditional family’s where a mother and father are actually married and celebrate the birth of each child is going by way of the dinosaurs.

“Mother and Child” Brush Drawing available at http://carol-allen-Anfinsen.artistwebsites.com

The role of wife and mother has also changed and frequently disrespected and unappreciated. A woman’s role of wage earner is valued at the expense of motherhood. If too much of a woman’s time is devoted to family, her career may be in jeopardy. After taking time off it is difficult to retain her before-maternity-leave status.

I remember well feeling like a slug – a non-contributing member of society. The Equal Rights Amendment battle was in full sway. Like other young mothers, I was torn and confused. Even in marriage my writing ventures and the time spent were belittled and viewed as a waste of time until I started earning money. Then the hours I spent at typewriter and eventually keyboard were given respect.

Stay-at-home moms were taken advantage of in so many ways. I remember thinking that my husband, my kids looked right through me. I was invisible – unnoticed until someone else’s needs were ignored or neglected. Then a wave of whining and complaining woke me out of my doldrums.

“Lady in Waiting” oil on canvas; Prints available

This became distinct and clear at a school Halloween Carnival. We had three children and one in the hopper. We waited in line for sloppy joe’s and drinks. I helped the younger children and made sure they had napkins and utensils. By the time we sat down, I discovered I had forgotten my own. “Heavy with child” and reluctant to get up again, I turned to my husband and said. “Would you mind getting me a fork and napkin?” He looked at me with cold eyes and said: “Get it yourself,” which I did.

Later, watching them play games through the classroom window, father and children, I said, trying to buoy myself up, “See you’re not invisible. I can see your reflection in the glass.” I looked down at my arm and pinched it between thumb and forefinger. “See, you’re not invisible, I can feel that pain.”

I’ve never felt so low and unimportant in my life. Talk about irrelevant! Sadly this was the beginning of the end. A downward spiral that eventually led to divorce; but not before two more children were born and I realized that things were never going to change.

“Does this hat make me look fat?” Pencil drawing

What a sad commentary on motherhood; the sacred creation of life. Instead of floundering at the bottom of the food chain, motherhood should be at the top. Without it society would become non-existent. The foundation that held families together in the past is now missing in action. Mothers are not there when their children come home from school. Lessons of the past are considered obsolete or old-fashioned. The values and virtues once revered are mocked.

Many people view pregnancy as simply a biological result of sexual relations; an unfortunate accident. The fact that parenthood might be part of a joyful plan is considered immaterial. Where will it end?