Lemmie Think

When my grandparents moved out of their home in 1974, someone in their life was being helpful and emptied the contents of their living room desk drawers into a cardboard box.

The box was then stored in my parents’ garage attic for over fifty years. The day came when there was no choice in the matter – someone needed to sort through the items.

So there I sat on their living room floor, lifting each item from the box in hopes of making quick decisions. It turned out to be an interesting task; but as I sorted, the familiar feeling of not knowing what to do with the memorabilia settled in once again.

I found myself thinking that someone would like to be the owner of a sixty-year-old Farm Bureau pencil. I just needed to know who. And a desk calendar from 1966 – a gift from a local insurance agency.

The Bible’s Sohio Service carbon receipt book would have to be valuable. After all, the Bible family owned the business for many years. They may want to be reminded of the business address: E. City Limits on U.S. 6. The phone number was 298-9504. No need to dial the area code back then.

On the back of the Bible’s Sohio Service receipt was the thank you to the customer. If you were pleased with the goods and treatment, they asked you to tell your friends. If not, please tell them. If the bill was not correct, they would gladly correct it. And they asked that you keep the bill for future reference.

I could make someone’s day if I gave them an item that once belonged to their family. Or maybe not.

I remember thinking No one made a decision fifty years ago about what to do with these items, and now they’ve become vintage. This was a plot twist.

Then I found a deck of Old Maid cards. The top card was the “Lemmie Think” card. I laughed. Apparently someone knew I was tired of thinking. Tired of sorting. Cleaning. Recycling. Tossing. Tired of believing there’s got to be someone out there who wants a little whatnot from 1968.

But thanks, Grandma and Grandpa, for the deck of Old Maid cards. My grandsons and I laughed as we repeated the names of the characters on the cards. Our vocabulary changed that day. If anyone asked a question, we answered with, “Lemmie Think.”

Sometimes my grandchildren and I decide it’s time to sing as if we’re characters in a musical. No speaking. We must sing our words. The next thing you know, someone is singing for the potatoes to be passed their way. Or the ketchup. And it causes laughter.

When you decide to sing as if you’re in a musical, you take on a serious “musical face” and your hands go into motion. You sing with professionalism and seriousness. Vibrato. Or baritone. It’s all fun.    

When my grandsons experience homesickness, I remind them we could sing as if we’re on stage. They then begin singing about how we long to crawl into our own beds at night. How comforting our own pillows and blankets can be. The laughter it causes reminds us that humor can get us through nearly anything.

If life really were a musical, we’d wake up singing about what a beautiful morning it is. What a beautiful day it is. We’d go outside in our checkered dress and head to the apple orchard. Our handsome boyfriend would be there. He’d sing about being in love.

There’d be wonderful eye contact and smiles as we stroll through the orchard and sing about how everything’s going our way.  

One of the characters on my new deck of cards goes by the name of I.M. Cranky. There’s also Hazel Hazzit, as well as a guy named Weary Stoops who needs to lean over to pick up some cash.

If we had to identify with one of the cards, mine would be Hazel Hazzit. She has a book in one hand and a bag on her other arm. But my name starts with an “M,” and I feel I should make up a name and character for myself.

Coming up with something that starts with an “M” should be easy. There’s magnificent. Marvelous. Miraculous. And Moody – but that really doesn’t describe me.

My grandsons, Toby and Thomas, could have used “Tattooed” to describe themselves one afternoon after we realized craft time had been left unsupervised.

The two let their artistic talents get the best of them, and they shocked the family when they showed us how creative they could be. They’d given themselves a few tattoos. With markers. They even demonstrated how they were able to draw on their own backs.

I once read that “training up” a child means we should nurture and guide them in the direction they should individually go. We can help them pursue interests, find hobbies, and develop talents.

Children are their own masterpiece, creating themselves, and we have been given the privilege of watching them be the artist. Watching as they become the character they were designed to be.

The Old Maid Disclaimer:

Life is going to deal some cards your way, and you’re going to have to play them. Please remember the character on your card is not developed through the luck of the draw, but rather through the choices we make, the thoughts we think, and the cares we keep.

If life has dealt you a bad card, one of the best things you can do is pretend you have better cards in your hand. You don’t have to let others know the Moody card is in your hand. And they don’t want to find out you can’t get rid of your I.M. Cranky card.

People around you hope and pray you decide to play the good character cards. You may want to sing about how great your life is and how things are going your way. Or try humming your words – for it’s impossible to hum and think other thoughts at the same time.   

Most important, don’t make them wonder who it is you are in love with, for they do not want to play their Lemmie Think card.