I remember a set of markers that caught my eye like candy in a convenient store. There was every color you could possibly imagine in that set. Yellow wasn’t just yellow, it was lemon or school bus, dandelion or mustard. There were a hundred different shades of every different shade. I’m exaggerating somewhat but that’s the way I picture them, an array of color blazoned in my memory. They were good ones, pretty pricey, more than the usual pocket change I carried around. I dreamed about having those markers, but not necessarily using them. They were perfect and I wouldn’t want to ruin that. The thought of them made me feel safe and as if everything would be ok, Years later, I did buy a similar set, which I then moved from apartment to apartment unopened, but they always looked good.
I wished I had them with me while traveling with a boyfriend when our luggage was lost. It would have given life to them, a purpose beyond “just for show.” We were in quite a pickle. It meant possibly having to attend a fancy shmancy dinner thingie in sweat pants. For some reason, he and I had taken to traveling in sweat pants. While they are very comfortable and in the event of a water evacuation much easier to manage than say heels or even jeans, if your luggage is lost, you’re in a situation. I just stood there waiting. I was certain my bag would fly out from behind the rubber curtain at any minute. It didn’t. Finally in a state of panicky acceptance, we advanced, not to baggage claim, but to “lost” baggage claim. Trust me; you do not want to see yourself at that counter upon arrival at your destination. Been there, done that, more than once.
They asked us to describe our bags of course. My boyfriend writes down purple. They weren’t purple. He scratches it out… blue. They weren’t blue. Ok, what the heck are they? Periwinkle. They were periwinkle. We actually had an argument over the color. I still maintain that I was right. The clerk of domain of the lost bags didn’t know what periwinkle was either. As you know, oh ‘ye of the black bag club, all bags are black. Which is another topic… black bags… why are they all black? I don’t think it’s our fault. There is some kind of no match, multi-color stigma and black… well, it goes with everything. I don’t know what the deal is. People gave jeans a break. Jeans are understood to go with everything when clearly they do not. That being said, they were both making fun of my adamancy. I maintained the bags were periwinkle which is its own color. You can’t liken it to blue-violet or plum, lilac or lavender. They aren’t even close. In that moment, I would have loved nothing more than to grab a marker from my holster and said… I’ll show you periwinkle.
But I don’t even know what happened to those markers. Last time I saw them was sometime in the 80's in some apartment in Chicago. I don’t remember ever using them. They could have plead my case so much easier than I attempted all alone. Money does that. It can make things easier. It can help people. Money can’t buy the time I wish that it could, but it can buy freedom… freedom from having to worry about making it. With this freedom, we have the time to focus on what we love and how we can help people. We don’t have more time, but what we have we can use more freely. Happiness, we can't buy it, so lucky us, it’s free. We can have it at any point along the way. It is there for the taking. Not from things, not from places, not from people… not from being, doing, having….it just is. Happiness. Honor Your Truth!
Hi Debra
Your videos are so great...you are so creative! You always make me think of my own childhood when I read your blogs. Things that have happened in the past, that I saw or felt.
While money can't buy "happiness" that is an internal issue, it does provide opportunities to have more fun, happy times. Also though money does make this world go around and it ranks up there with oxygen in the matters of being necessary. It is what you do with the money that determines the happiness that you receive.
As always you are amazing and fun. Love YOU my dear sister!
You always make me think of my own childhood when I read your blogs. Things that have happened in the past, that I saw or felt.
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