Category / Facebook

by Kelly Mattei

Don’t Pick Up the Shoes

Don’t pick up the shoes.

I saw a Facebook post today on a page called Alabama News and Comment. It’s a page from the news division of Alabama’s Radio Station, 101.9 Fox-FM. It appears to be a station out of Birmingham. Don’t ask me how I got to the page, because I have no idea. It was one of many squirrels my brain chased today. And this time, I ended up on Alabama News and Comment, reading a piece about a woman picking up her husband’s shoes. You can see it on Facebook here.

My husband picks up his own shoes, so I don’t think I have ever had to pick them up for him, but it made me think of my parents.

My parents were married for 45 years before my Daddy died. He was young, just 68, and died of pancreatic cancer. Many times, though, during his retirement years, he would take off his shoes in the living room and leave them underneath the coffee table. I’m guessing he usually carried his own shoes to the closet, but it was something I never gave any attention at the time.

And then, in 2006, Daddy died.

We did what families do. We supported each other for a few days, and then my little family returned to Charlotte to resume our lives. We settled back into real life. About a month later, I decided we needed to go visit Mother; she’d had time to rest and recuperate after months of caring for Daddy, and I thought she needed company.

Upon arrival at my parents’ home, I saw Mother standing outside waiting for us, but I didn’t see Daddy. Of course, I didn’t see him, because he had passed away a month before, but his absence hit me hard. I got out of the car with tears streaming down my face, and Mother said, “I should have warned you how difficult your first visit back would be…your first visit without him here.” She knew, because she had lost her own Daddy. It had never occurred to me how the absence of Daddy would take my breath away. But it did.

We all went inside and sat down in the living room, and that’s when I saw Daddy’s shoes under the coffee table. I looked at them, and I looked at Mother. Her eyes met mine. I didn’t even have to say anything. She simply said, “I can’t move them.” I cried again, but I understood. Seeing those shoes where Daddy left them likely made her feel a little like he was still there. It was a small way of tricking her brain into feeling like Daddy was still there…a comfort. As I read the piece on Facebook today, my brain went straight to that time, and I thought, “One day you might want to see his shoes in the living room.”

Life is like that. Sometimes the things we never think we will miss are the very things we miss…or even the things we find comfort in. When our daughter was a toddler and didn’t sleep well, many times I would have to go upstairs and lie down with her. My husband and I shared a doctor at the time (a mistake I won’t make again in this lifetime), and when he was at the doctor, he mentioned it in passing to “our” doctor. The next time I was there, she opted to lecture me about how bad that was for me and for our daughter. It angered me greatly, because frankly, I thought it was none of her business, and soon thereafter, I found another doctor. What did I know that the doctor didn’t know? I knew we all parent differently, and I knew myself far better than she knew me. I knew, in my infinite wisdom, that one day, I would be sad when my daughter didn’t want me around as much. Was it a little inconvenient for me to spend a half hour upstairs helping our daughter get to sleep? Yes, but I loved every minute. And guess what…she’s a freshman in college now who doesn’t need me to help her get to sleep. *Many times, I have wondered what kind of communication that doctor has with her own children…if she has the same great relationship with hers that I have with mine. I actually feel sorry for her and for her children. I know mine trusts me, and some of that trust might just go back to those nights she needed me to be there while she fell asleep.*

If my daddy’s death taught me anything, it taught me that life is not a dress rehearsal. We have to live now and enjoy the little things. When our daughter was a toddler, I would pick her up and carry her in my arms any time she wanted. My friend, Jennifer, and I believed (since we had only children) we should do that, because one day we wouldn’t get to carry them anymore. We wouldn’t know when it was the last time, so we did it every time. No, I don’t remember the last time I carried her, but I know I carried her on my back multiple times after she became too heavy to carry in my arms. And if she asked me to carry her today (she’s 19), I would. You can bet on that.

And as much as it annoys me that my husband can’t resist the urge to open the curtains on the window on my side of the bed, I know that, if something happened to him, I’d likely miss having to go close those curtains when my side of the room starts to heat up from the sunlight.

Enjoy the little things…even the little annoyances.

by Kelly Mattei

We Miss the Elves

We miss the elves.

I know, I know. Every parent who is having to deal with The Elf on the Shelf right now is wondering why they ever bought into that commercialized bit of Christmas.

Seriously, how many times will you forget to move the damn elves during the season? I remember many times our daughter would come downstairs in the morning to find the elf in the same spot as the day before. She would ask if it had lost its magic. “Oh, no honey! It was just really foggy/stormy/cloudy out last night, and he couldn’t make the flight safely.” I had to think fast, and I couldn’t let the panic show on my face.

Other times, I would wake up in the middle of the night and remember I hadn’t moved the elf. I would get up, try to wake up enough to be creative with a “hiding place,” and stumble back to bed…cursing the elf the whole time.

And then, the elves multiplied at our house! She teceived them as gifts. Or she asked them to bring friends. When all was said and done, we had SIX elves visiting our home, and that meant I had to move all six of them every night. (I know…I know…I’m crazy to have allowed it.) Not only that, but I also had to get more creative after she heard about other friends’ elves that did more interesting things than just sit in the Christmas tree. Keeping up with the Joneses was real where the elf was concerned. She didn’t want to think Santa sent her a lame elf (or elves!).

Seriously, it got out of hand. Those damn elves were leading better lives than I was: writing all over the vanity with toothpaste, bungee jumping from the stairs, bathing in Christmas M&Ms, coming in on a wrecking ball, drinking Karo Syrup, trapping each other in cake domes…oh, to be an elf! And the notes and “surprises”! They brought little trinkets. They wrote her notes in their special elf handwriting. My brain had not been that creative in years, but I made it happen. Honestly, I became an overachiever where the elves were concerned, and I’m sure all her friends’ parents hated me for it. I don’t blame them. I hated that I let myself fall into the trap of that level of insanity after seeing others post on social media, but I did it.

I thought about all this last night, because my daughter, who is now 19 and a freshman in college, was hanging out with friends and texted me, “Can you send me pictures of the crazy things my elves did?” I searched through years of pictures and found some to send her. She sent back lots of laughing faces, lots of “Lol” and lots of “wow.”

Then I went down the rabbit hole.

I started texting her elf stories. I told her about the time she came running into the kitchen just before Thanksgiving Day (when the elves are supposed to arrive) with an elf in her hand. I’m not sure how old she was…maybe six of seven? She had gone into my room to look for something in a drawer, and she had found an elf. “Mommy! Look what I found in your drawer!” I was standing at the stovetop preparing dinner but looked down to see her holding the elf up for me to see. Somehow, I thought fast and replied, “Wow! He must have known you would look in there today, and he was just waiting for you to find him!” Her eyes widened! She bought it hook, line, and sinker! She replied, “I guess so!” And the elves got an early start (ugh) that year…lucky me (insert eye roll here).

Another year, on Christmas Day, she seemed a little sad…unusual for Christmas Day. She was eight, and she should have been excited and happy the whole day. Finally, in the afternoon, I asked, “Honey, are you OK?” Immediately, the flood gates opened…her bottom lip rolled down as her chin quivered, and tears rolled down her cheeks. “I miss my elf!,” she exclaimed. My heart broke. My sweet little girl thad been holding in those emotions all day. I could have been stern. I could have followed the elf rules, but I didn’t. I hugged her. I comforted her. And then I said, “There might be a way to get him back.” Call me a sucker if you want, but personally, I love knowing my child is full of so much love. That year, her elf had taken on the task of replacing some of her “babies” (stuffed animals) that had been accidentally thrown out while we were having her room painted. She appreciated what that elf had done for her, and she loved her elf for it. Who was I to say the elf couldn’t come back? Surely, there was a way?!? I said, “Here’s a little secret: since it’s still Christmas Day, you can make a wish on a Christmas candle, and maybe the elf will come back.” I’m still patting myself on the back for this one. My husband brought us a Christmas candle, and I sat down on the sofa with her, telling her to close her eyes and make the wish before blowing out the candle. Then close her eyes again and slowly count to ten, just to help the wish. Whatever…I was winging it, OK?!? While she slowly counted to ten after making the wish, my husband scampered quietly into our room, got the elf out of a drawer and placed him on the dining room table. When she opened her eyes, I said, “Maybe the elf will return. He might show up in an unexpected place.” Of course, she couldn’t resist the urge to start searching. When she found him on the dining room table, it was sheer joy! Her Christmas wish had come true! Since the elf had returned on a Christmas wish, she was allowed to hold him (against the Elf on the Shelf rules), so she settled in on the sofa to watch a Christmas movie with him. I told her she had 30 more days with the elf, but he wouldn’t fly back and forth to the North Pole, and had to leave after those 30 days. She agreed 30 more days would be enough…and it was.

The elves were popular at our house for several years until one day, she simply said, “Mom, I know the elves aren’t real.” In some ways I was happy. I wouldn’t have to remember to move them! I wouldn’t have to find creative places to put them! I wouldn’t have to wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat when I realized I hadn’t done anything with them! I wouldn’t have to lie about the fog/storms/clouds. At the same time, my heart broke a little. Sure, my life would be a little easier because she didn’t believe in the elves anymore, but it would be a lot less fun.

Now that she’s 19, the elves no longer come around. One moved to a new home when a neighbor melted her daughter’s elf on a lamp and was in a desperate search for a new one. We had one that matched hers, so we let her have it. Our daughter didn’t believe anymore, so it was nice to know we were saving another parent from a meltdown. Now, we look back on the elves with fondness. And honestly, they make good stories.

We miss the elves…not enough to bring them back, but we miss them!

by Kelly Mattei

College Parent Pages

College parent pages.

Y’all, I have written about Facebook college parent pages before in another piece (you can see it here), but really…I feel like I didn’t do them justice. If you have a child in college, and you follow a college parent page on Facebook, you know what I’m talking about…the insanity. If you follow a parent page and don’t see the insanity, well…you might be the insanity. It’s like when people say “every family has a weird cousin, but if you don’t know who it is, it’s probably you.”

Seriously, though, if you see your own post here, please don’t be offended. Different people think differently. These are just a few of the ones my friends and I have pulled from the “interwebs.”

Stay with me here, because I am about to enlighten the parents who have not been subjected to this yet. Oh my! It’s something new every day! I know. I could “unfollow” the parent pages, but every now and then, there is some useful information. Besides, if I unfollowed the pages, what would I have to laugh about with my friends?

I will not name colleges or universities, but I asked some of my friends to send me some of the posts from their parent pages too, and I made a compilation. Hold onto your hat, folks.

  • I just saw this one on a Tiktok a friend (someone I have known since college!) shared with me earlier today: Where can students fill their water bottles? What about washing them? Yes, the parent of an incoming college freshman actually posted that on a parent page. What in the world? The Tiktok was funny, because the lady who made it (user881865674708) totally took parents to task for ridiculous posts like this one. Can your 18-yr-old can figure out where to fill up a water bottle or wash it?!?! If you’re asking a question like this, you might need to keep your student home and teach him/her how to do menial tasks.
  • Here’s one another friend sent me: My daughter wants to join a sorority, but we aren’t sure we can afford it. She will rush, but if we find it too expensive after she pledges, she will drop. No, no, and no! Costs are usually outlined pretty clearly. Where my daughter is going, parents must sign a form saying we know the costs associated with joining. At SEC schools with sorority houses, it’s expensive. If a chapter loses a member, they lose the money they were expecting from that member to help pay the cost of running the chapter and the house! It is unethical and unfair to the chapter…not to mention how unfair it is to your daughters. If Greek life is important to the student, and the cost is prohibitive, maybe they need to go to college somewhere with less expensive sororities…the ones that don’t have houses.
  • I saw this one today: Tuition bills are being posted! I’m from (out of state). It’s an awful amount I have to pay. What the what?!?!?! Did you not know that before you let your kid enroll??? It’s easy to find out the cost! Don’t agree to it and then complain publicly about it…you knew it going in!
  • Here’s a funny one: We are trying to buy tickets to the XXXX football game, but the cost is outrageous! Welcome to the SEC, honey. And if it’s a rival or Homecoming? You can plan to pay. Also, know the difference between Florida/Florida State, Ole Miss (Mississippi)/Mississippi State, etc. Sorry, it’s a pet peeve, since I have been following football my whole life.
  • One a friend sent me, because she is tired of seeing posts like this: I’m driving back from “University” to our hometown of XXXX, and I need a place to stop midway. Can someone tell me what that might be? This one cracks me up. Really? Have you never left your hometown? Never used an atlas or a GPS?!?! It’s not that hard, people! I worry about humanity…
  • Frequent post: My child needs a tutor… Let your child find the tutor, for goodness sake!
  • Here’s one: I’m not sure if our health plan, XXXX, is accepted in [the state where the daughter is attending college]. Is anyone familiar with it? Do you know if it is accepted there? Hmmm…how about you call your health plan company and ask them?!?!
  • And another one from someone whose child goes to an SEC school: I don’t understand why athletes can have housing all four years, but my child cannot? I can’t…I just can’t. Lol!
  • This one is a doozy: My child will be flying to school from out of state. He has never flown by himself before, and I am concerned about him navigating the Atlanta airport. Any advice? OMG. If he can’t navigate an airport, he needs to go to college closer to home. Also, I hope you used a fake name on the post, because he will be mortified if (when) he hears about that crazy post. Here’s how I look at airport navigation: If you can read, you can survive.
  • And while we are talking about airports: My daughter missed her connection at XXX International Airport. Can a parent tell me if there are any hotels located nearby? First, if it’s an international airport that is a hub for an airline (thus, the connection), the answer is probably “yes, there are hotels nearby.” Secondly, a quick Google check will answer that question, and your daughter (if you let her) will even be able to find out if they offer a free shuttle to/from the airport. Lots of airport hotels do.
  • Another example of “let them do it”: I’m looking for recommended clubs/fraternities/organizations for my freshman son. Again, no, no, and no. Let him figure it out! Did you pick all his activities in high school? If so, it’s time to let go, Dad. Let him figure it out.
  • Here’s a favorite: My daughter is having trouble getting dates since she got to college. Any ideas on where she can meet potential suitors? Holy smokes! A mom is literally trying to find her daughter a hookup! No, mom! You are not her matchmaker or her pimp! Let her find her own dates! It might take some time, but most people do get dates if they want them.
  • Here’s a tricky one: What is a reasonable allowance for my freshman child? First of all, we don’t know your income. This is something that might be better to discuss with a close friend who has a child in college. What is reasonable to some people might be outrageous to others. Only you know your financial situation.
  • Also, lots of questions like this: Where can I find my child’s syllabus? Can I see my child’s midterm grades somewhere? How do I know if my child is doing OK his first semester? Could your parents see all that when you went to college? Think about that. If they couldn’t see it, you don’t need to see it either.
  • And this one: Did anyone have a child who attended the XXXX Camp for freshmen before school started? It’s supposed to help freshmen make friends before school starts. If not, how did your child make friends when he/she got there? Are you serious? Mama…let him grow up. He will make friends somehow…probably in his dorm…if you don’t move in with him, because it sounds like you think you need to do that. He will be fine if you leave him alone.
  • This one made me laugh: Where can my child open a bank account? Hmmm…at a bank?
  • How about this? My son has tickets to a concert [an hour away] in November. Does anyone else have a son/daughter who will be going? Maybe my son can ride with them? As my mother would say, “Oh, dear Gussy.” If your child really wants to go to the concert four months away, he will have plenty of time to make friends with similar interests in the months leading up to it. You do not need to arrange his transportation for him, and if you do, well….
  • And this: My daughter is a sophomore and needs a job. Where can she find one? Hmmm…shouldn’t she be looking for the job instead of you, Mom? Are you going to fill out the application for her, too?
  • Ending with some comic relief: My child is staying in the dorm for orientation. Does anyone know what he should bring? A friend sent a picture of this post to me via text. She said the answer should be “condoms.”

I know…I got a little snarky, but sometimes, it’s hard to weed through the insanity to find the posts that are actually meaningful/helpful. If you think I’m the only one thinking this way, think again. Here is another piece from Medium.com. Please, don’t embarrass your child by posting these questions. Let your college student figure things out! Somehow, we figured it all out (in the 1980s) without the internet, and they will figure it out too. Honestly, my parents probably didn’t even know my major until I graduated. Let’s allow these kids to do their thing…grow up…figure it all out!

by Kelly Mattei

A Conversation

A conversation.

I checked my Facebook memories this morning, and found a memory from this day in 2015. It started with my post that said, “Hoping all my friends in the northeast are staying warm and are ready for the big storm! Wendy, what say you? Are you wishing you lived in Charlotte right now?” (My friend, Wendy, lived in Boston at the time.) And then, Wendy, to my surprise, responded! (She wasn’t always the best about responding, but I didn’t hold it against her!)

  • Wendy: Um, that would be a hell yes!
  • Me: Ahhh…you thawed out enough to comment, Wendy! As soon as I saw how bad it was going to be, I immediately thought of how much you would like to be here [Charlotte] right now! We miss you!
  • Wendy: And actually, I’ve been thinking about how much you would love to be here too! I keep telling our Charlotte snow stories and laughing in comparison. Thinking about how much our kids would’ve loved to enjoy the blizzard together…who would’ve thought I’d see a blizzard again in my lifetime…Miss you too Laverne!

Seeing that exchange made me so happy. I can’t wipe the smile off my face! Sadly, Wendy passed away 3 1/2 years ago after a 30-year battle with various cancers. I miss her, but that little Facebook exchange brought me some joy! I could almost hear her talking. I feel like it’s a transcript of a conversation! It’s different than finding a card from someone, which is one-sided. This is an actual exchange! And it’s a gift. I think of Wendy all the time, but she has really been on my mind for the past few days for some reason. I dreamed of her two nights ago. I wish I had written the dream down, because I can’t remember details of it. I just know that we were going somewhere together in the dream…and it went on and on. I even woke up wishing I’d stayed asleep, so I could keep visiting with her.

I’m sure we were calling each other Laverne and Shirley in my dream. I became Laverne after we took our kids to bike the Virginia Creeper Trail years ago. If you’re not familiar with it, the Virginia Creeper Trail is a 17-mile bike trail down a mountain. (For info on the Virginia Creeper Trail, click here.) The whole trip was a comedy of errors…to the point that we were convinced we were being featured on some sort of secret survival TV show. Early in the bike ride, Wendy had declared herself as Laverne. But after a mile or two on the trail, the chain came off her bike, and she didn’t know what to do. I stopped and said, “Get off the bike. I got this.” I put the chain back on the bike, and then I stood up, and while I wiped my hands, I looked at Wendy and asked, “Now…who’s Laverne?” She laughed and said, “You are!” I said, “Of course I am. Thanks, Shirley!” (Neither of us wanted to be the prudish Shirley from Laverne and Shirley. Everyone knows Laverne was the cool one.)

We both proved to be pretty tough that day, though. We had made a bad decision when we decided to ride the trail in February. It was still too early in the year; in fact, the bike shop owner said it was the first time he had taken anyone up the mountain that year. (There are bike rental shops at the bottom of the mountain that take you to the top with the bikes.) We should have known then. The chain coming off the bike was minor compared to what we endured later. Once we got a few miles down the mountain, out of cell phone coverage, we encountered snow…probably a mile of it. We weren’t dressed for snow. We had three kids with us… and bikes! We would carry the kids a few hundred yards ahead, and then one of us would go back and get the bikes while one of us stayed with the kids. We repeated that till we got to the end of the snow, but our clothes were soaked through and cold! Our kids’ were freezing, so Wendy and I took off our socks and put them on our kids. In fact, I feel pretty sure we gave them our jackets, hats, and gloves too….doubling their coverage…and leaving us with one layer of clothing. Fortunately, through the misery, we were able to laugh about it a few times, asking each other, “Where are the cameras?!?! There must be cameras filming this fiasco! Are we being Punk’d?!?!” (Punk’d was a TV show featuring Ashton Kutcher playing pranks on celebrities.) But there were no cameras. We did make it to the end of the trail safely, and we enjoyed some hot coffee and hot cocoa and some lunch at a restaurant nearby before making our way home to Charlotte.

I sure wish she were here to laugh over a hot cup of coffee now. I’d even be willing to ride the Virginia Creeper Trail in the snow again if she could come back to go with me.

by Kelly Mattei

What Other People Think of Me…

“What other people think of me is none of my business.“

I can’t take credit for that. In fact, I have no idea who the originator of that quote was, but I like it. And you know why? Because really…what other people is think of me is none of my business. Isn’t it completely and utterly liberating to know that?

I’m what lots of people would refer to as an “over-sharer” on social media. I like to post all kinds of stuff…funny stuff, pretty scenes, and yes, lots of pictures of my family having fun. Just like everybody else in the world, my life isn’t perfect. I’ve had my share of tough times in life…losing loved ones being at the top of the list. And I have had my share of embarrassing moments. I tell people all the time that I have fallen down in all 50 states; well, not quite, but I do think I have probably fallen down in 35 or so. In February of 2021, I fell down the stairs of Galatoire’s in New Orleans! My teenage daughter was mortified, of course, but lucky me…no broken bones. Just a bruised ego. However, since I’m over 50, I know when to be really embarrassed, and since I knew I’d never see most of those people ever again, I wasn’t terribly embarrassed. Fortunately, as far as I know, there were no photos of the incident and no video. It would have been pretty funny, though…even I can admit that.

If there had been photographic evidence of it, I likely would have shared it on social media. Nobody loves seeing a good fall more than I do. I think I’ve written about it before. As long as no one is hurt, a good fall is downright hilarious.

Lately, with the ringing in of the new year, I’ve been getting lots of ads from PastBook on Facebook. PastBook prints all the photos you post on Facebook in a calendar year in book form. I ordered one last year, just to see what it was like, and I really liked it! I keep that 2020 PastBook on the coffee table in my livingroom for all the world to see. I don’t know that anyone has looked at it besides me, because even though I “over-share,” I know everyone in the whole world is not interested in my posts. I started over-sharing when my mother was still alive, because she lived hundreds of miles away, and she liked seeing pictures of her granddaughter. It was an easy way to share. And then, I guess I became addicted, because I realized Facebook is a good place to store memories! And Pastbook puts them all in print form!

Looking through my PastBook from 2020, I can see that, despite the pandemic hiccup in all our lives, I managed to have some fun that year. My husband and I spent a lot of time outdoors, and I had the most beautiful garden I have ever had in the history of my gardening! Even without air travel most of that year, we managed to go to some fun places and make some new memories. Looking at the book, though, I can see clearly that by September of 2020, I needed to get on a plane…and I did. I threw up some prayers and flew to California…and then I did it again that November…unvaccinated! And then everything surged again.

But in 2021, I started throwing caution to the wind, so I think my PastBook will be better for 2021. We met friends in New Orleans, LA, and the Bahamas…just like old times! I can hardly wait to order the Pastbook and see all the memories in print.

And y’all can make fun of me for over-sharing all you want. When our daughter was a little girl, I took pictures of every move we made…actually, I still do that. As much as it can be an annoyance, she appreciates it later. I’m the one my friends come to if they need pictures from the past, because I was always ready with a camera…till smartphones came along…so now I just use that. But my over-sharing is not for the rest of the world. It’s for me. And it’s for my daughter.

One day, many years from now, our daughter will be thrilled to have all the photos I have taken over the years. Just like I loved going through the pictures my nephew brought me from my mother’s house last weekend, she will likely enjoy going through all the photos I have taken and stored in books, on social media, and in Rubbermaid bins in our attic. She will be able to look through the photos and try to remember who the people are. She’ll likely have lots of stories to tell about the photos too. I made my nephew and his girlfriend sit through a lot of my stories last weekend!

I finally went through the second bin my nephew brought, and near the bottom, stuck in a Bible, was the black and white photo of my kindergarten graduation in 1973…something I thought was long gone. It’s the photo I used in the header for this post…just like the graduation caps worn by all those six-yr-olds, the photo is a little askew. My family had moved several times, and I hadn’t seen that photo in years, but there it was…at the bottom of a Rubbermaid bin. And I was thrilled to have it! In fact, I have now framed it and put it on a shelf in my livingroom, so I always know where it is. But I also shared it on Facebook. And lots of those kindergarten classmates chimed in, helping identify the kids in the picture! I remembered lots of them, but since I moved away in February of 1975, less than two years after the photo was taken, my memory was a little fuzzy on some of the faces. That’s OK, because after a little time, one classmate found a newspaper article that listed all the names and shared it in the comments of the photo. It made for some fun exchanges on Facebook…all of which will show up in my PastBook for 2022, I’m sure.

So yes, I over-share, and I’m glad I do, because I’ll have a record of so many different things in my life, and my daughter will have that record too. I might not ever write a bestselling novel or biography, but there will be proof of my life in pictures. And if my over-sharing is annoying, well, keep scrolling. Whatever you do, don’t tell me, because “what other people think of me is none of my business.”

***If you’d like to check out PastBook and possibly make your own, click here.***

by Kelly Mattei

Facebook Memories: A Gift to Ourselves

Facebook Memories: A Gift to Ourselves.

I joined Facebook in 2009, because a friend from high school “invited” me to join. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. I friended a few people, and then I realized I needed to get my mother to join, because it was an easy way for me to share photos of my then-five-yr-old daughter. I had no idea what an effect it would have on life, in general.

Here is where I am the first to admit that Facebook can be a giant “time suck,” as one friend calls it. I choose to call it a “time bandit,” because it steals my time, and when I look up, I’ve lost minutes or even hours of my life…to Facebook.

At the same time, it’s a good thing. We get to communicate with friends from lots of different stages of our lives. I’ve mentioned before that Facebook connected me with a friend who lived across the street from me when I was a toddler. It connected me with kindergarten friends I never dreamed remembered me after I moved away in second grade. It connected me with friends from the school I started attending in second grade and left after fourth grade. And it connected me with friends from high school and college, jobs I had over the years, and new friends I’ve made along the way. It’s a gift.

But there’s one part of Facebook that I truly consider a gift: Facebook Memories. I love Facebook Memories. I love that, every day, I can open my Facebook account, click on “memories,” and I can see things I’ve posted from years past. Today, for example, when I opened my account, the first memory I came across from one year ago was a photo of a space heater. I had posted it, telling my friend I had purchased new heaters to put at our feet while we visited in the garage. Yep, it was a sign of the times…the pandemic forced me to visit with friends in the open garage. The next memory, also from 2020, was a photo of a Christmas gumdrop tree, something nostalgic from my childhood that was clearly nostalgic for other people too, judging by the comments. The next post? One of my favorites of all time: a video from my daughter’s eighth grade basketball season…a girl on the team hit a buzzer beater to win the game 33-31 (yes, 33-31, because it was middle school girls’ basketball, after all) and a celebration ensued! As I continued to scroll, I came across a photo of me with a group of friends at the Good Friends Luncheon in Charlotte in 2016…a great cause that raises funds to help kids and adults in need. From 2013, there is a photo of me and my cousin before the ACC Championship game here in Charlotte. His team, the Florida State Seminoles won that year…great memory! Below that are a few pics from church basketball league in 2012…our daughter was nine. And then there are photos from 2010, when I took our daughter and some of her friends to a Christmas party at the country club. Lots of great memories! And every one of them made me smile. A gift.

Later this month, I will get to “re-live” Christmas memories…pictures of the Christmas tree after “Santa has left the building,” photos of the joy on our daughter’s face on Christmas morning, pictures of vacations during the holidays, photos of gatherings with friends, and so much more.

Every day, after I scroll through my Facebook memories, I want more! But I always have to wait for the next day…and often, another gift…another great memory…another smile.

For all its faults, Facebook, used correctly, is a gift. I will keep adding memories to it for as long as I can! And hopefully, along the way, I will have at least one smile a day.

by Kelly Mattei

My Favorite Athletic Shoes

My Favorite Athletic Shoes.

Let me start by saying that I haven’t always been one to spend a lot of time in athletic shoes. I normally wear them for the exercise of the day and ditch them afterward. For whatever the reason, I have never wanted to spend whole days in sneakers, or as we called them growing up, “tennis shoes.” Yes, growing up in Alabama, we never used the word “sneakers;” we just used “tennis shoes” instead. Unless shoes were specific to a sport (basketball shoes, cleats, etc), we just called everyday athletic shoes “tennis shoes.” I don’t know why.

My teenage daughter is into sneakers, though, and even wears them with dresses on a regular basis. And she looks cute! Because of that, I’ve noticed lots of adults doing the same, but I still couldn’t do it.

But recently, a friend posted on Facebook that she had bought the most comfortable sneakers she has ever owned. It was a brand I had considered purchasing before, but I had chosen to stick with what I know. Her post, though, made me rethink the brand, and I looked online, discovering that the company has a “try it for 30 days” policy.

The brand? ON brand athletic shoes. You can see their website here. They have a patented CloudTec technology that’s “engineered to deliver a soft landing followed by an explosive take-off.” I’m the first to admit that the sound of “soft landing” sounds great, but there will never be an explosive take-off in any shoes I’m wearing! That being said, I wanted to try them. I had nothing to lose, since they have that “try it for 30 days” policy. So I ordered two pairs after filling out their questionnaire that helped determine which of their shoes would be best for me.

The two I purchased? The Cloud and the Cloud X. My thought process? Use the Cloud for everyday wear and the Cloud X for exercise.

I received them within a few days and tried the Cloud first. I immediately took them out of the box and put them on to wear around the house, and I found them very comfortable. They’re lightweight, and they don’t slip. They offer good arch support, and their breathable and flexible. They’re cute too! Even my teenage daughter gave them a thumbs up! Soon after I put them on, my phone rang, and I did what I always do…I walked outside to walk laps around the pool while I talked. And the Clouds were awesome! A few days after that, I went to work as a substitute in the library at my daughter’s school, and I wore the Clouds. I’ve never been one to wear athletic shoes to “work,” but these are so cute and comfortable…I couldn’t resist! And I was glad I did. My feet still felt great at the end of the day.

I also wore the Cloud X sneakers when I went out for a walk, and again…I was thrilled with the comfort level! The Cloud X sneakers are built for more activity than the Clouds…they’re more durable, a little heavier (not much), and still offer great arch support. No surprise…I love the Cloud X sneakers too. I often have difficulty finding athletic shoes that don’t slip on my heels. If they don’t slip on my heels, they’re often too flat…I feel like I’m walking uphill in them. Or as I tell my husband, I feel like I have clown feet. But with the Cloud X, I didn’t feel like they were too flat, and they didn’t slip at all. Sold!

Surely, you can guess by now that I didn’t need to use their “try it for 30 days” offer. It hasn’t been 30 days since I got them, but I knew after just one day of wearing each pair that I didn’t need 30 days. Honestly, I will likely never purchase another brand. I love these shoes! In fact, I love them so much that I keep going back to the website to look at different colors. Yes, I love them that much. They offer so many different shoes…you need to check them out yourself: waterproof, hiking, trail running, everyday wear, and more.

If you’re looking for new athletic shoes, try On brand. With their “try it for 30 days” policy, what do you have to lose?

by Kelly Mattei

Revisit Walnut Grove

Revisit Walnut Grove. 

Last week, I was working on a project, and for background noise, I wanted something relaxing. I didn’t want to listen to the news. I didn’t want to hear stupid talk shows. I didn’t need to know anything else about the pandemic…no real life, thank you very much. I started flipping through the channels, and I came upon an episode of Little House on the Prairie. I stopped flipping channels, and I decided to record it. I found two more upcoming episodes and recorded those too, and then I changed to a relaxing music channel, saving the shows for later.

When I was a little girl, I loved Little House on the Prairie. I loved the books by Laura Ingalls Wilder. My parents gave them to me for Christmas one year. And I loved the TV show. The TV show premiered in September 1974, when I was seven years old, and I was the perfect age to think it was the greatest show ever! Anyone who was a little girl at the time probably remembers the Holly Hobbie dolls that became popular in 1975…likely due, in my opinion, to the popularity of the Little House on the Prairie TV show. But Holly Hobbie is a discussion for another time. As for Little House, I loved watching the life of Laura Ingalls and her family in the “wilderness.” 

I looked forward to it every week…for a couple of years anyway.  The show was on for nine seasons, but I didn’t watch it for those nine years. Little girls become preteens and teenagers, and tastes change; as a preteen and teen, I thought I was way too cool for Little House on the Prairie and stopped watching.

And then I grew up.

I went to middle school, high school, and I don’t think I watched another episode during that time. I went off to college, and after my junior year, I had an internship at a small town newspaper. I would go home every evening and watch an episode of Little House on the Prairie. I was growing up, I guess…I no longer thought I was too cool for the show. And every night, at some point during the show, I would cry. What the heck? The show, with its life lessons, would always elicit an emotional response. 

So last night, my husband and I settled in to watch a little TV before going to sleep, and I said, “I’ve recorded a couple of shows I think we should watch!” Was he thrilled when I said it was Little House on the Prairie? No, but we watched anyway. And he enjoyed watching it as much as I did. Yes, I cried. We watched back to back episodes titled Sylvia, parts 1 and 2, and they are heart wrenching episodes about a teenage girl being raised by her daughter. Sylvia, the character for whom the episodes are named, is a teenage girl being raised by her father. There are lots of twists and turns to the story, but she becomes pregnant as the result of a sexual assault. Albert Ingalls, the adopted son of the Ingalls family, is in love with her, and they plan to marry, even though they are mere teenagers…oh, it just gets worse after that. Heartbreaking.

My husband watched it, and even liked the show, but when I cried at the end, he did what he always does when I cry over a television show…he made fun of me.

Afterward, I posted on Facebook that we had watched a couple of episodes of Little House on the Prairie, and I was shocked at the number of responses! Lots of my friends said how they loved the show. One mentioned that Michael Landon, the actor who played Charles Ingalls, was easy on the eyes…indeed! Another said it was her favorite show of all time. And yet another mentioned Alison Arngrim, the actress who played the incorrigible Nellie Oleson. 

My friend, Nikki, who lives in Alabama, somehow knew that Alison Arngrim is reading the books on Facebook Live, so I checked it out, and oh my! It’s worth tuning in! As it turns out, the girl who played the incorrigible Nellie Oleson, is actually a hilarious adult! To see one of her Facebook Live readings, click here. And while you’re at Arngrim’s Facebook page, look around! She also has a comedy show where she dishes about the secrets of the show! That one requires the purchase of an online “ticket,” but I’m thinking it might be worth it after watching her hilarious readings.

If you decide to revisit Walnut Grove by watching some old episodes of Little House on the Prairie, just be forewarned that you’re likely to cry, and you might just become addicted. I’m likely to be watching it for months!  And if you want some of the behind-the-scenes dirt, check out Alison Arngrim on Facebook!

 

 

 

 

by Kelly Mattei

A Picture Tells a Story

A picture tells a story.

At the end of every year since I got an Instagram account, I go back through all the photos I posted for that year. Recently I went back through my Instagram photos for 2019, and I truly realized that some of the pictures really tell stories.

My first post for 2019 was a photo at the Charlotte airport…not much of a story except that we were starting vacation…meeting friends from Ohio in LA. But the next picture, a photo of me and my friend from Ohio, Jenn, tells a real story.

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Sure, looking at the photo above, all you see is two friends on a chilly day with the Pacific Ocean in the background. But what I see is love. Having just survived the first anniversary of my mother’s death (she died December 30, 2017), I was still reeling. I was feeling lost. And then we arrived in Los Angeles, and Jenn and her daughter arrived. After telling her what a terrible day that first anniversary on December 30 had been (there were additional factors at play)…and crying…Jenn made me feel better. Jenn, the perpetual ray of sunshine, hugged me, listened to me, and made me feel loved. So every time I come across that one single photo that looks completely nondescript and meaningless to everyone else in the world, I remember how much better she made me feel. I can look at my face in that picture and see the pain melting away. I see the relief in my eyes and in my face. That picture reminds me that good friends are hard to find. And that picture reminds me that when we find good friends like Jenn, we need to keep them.

There are other photos from 2019 that stand out for me. In fact, any photos I post on Instagram, I share for a reason…maybe I think they’re funny or cute…maybe I want to share something cool…or maybe there’s another meaning behind the picture. Of course, when I posted the picture of me and Jenn, I had no idea how powerful the picture was for me. It was only when I was looking through pictures a few months later that I saw it again, and the meaning behind it floored me. Instagram photos certainly tell stories…maybe not to the casual observer, but to the originator of the post. Most of my photos tell stories of family, friendship, and love. And then there are some that tell different stories…like this photo of me and my daughter in front of Mars Cheese Castle in Kenosha, Wisconsin.

The story? In 2015, I took a crazy road trip with my friend, Mary Ann, and our kids. We spent a few nights in Chicago, and while we were there, I had hoped to get the kids up to Wisconsin…just so they could add another state to their list of “states visited.” There was a Six Flags amusement park we could have visited just over the line, but that would have taken too much time, so instead, I suggested Mars Cheese Castle, a giant cheese store shaped like…you guessed it…a castle. We never made it in 2015, and I regretted it. So in 2019, when I was in Chicago with my daughter and one of her friends, we made a quick trip up to Kenosha to visit Mars Cheese Castle. You can see how happy I was!

Those are just a couple of examples of how pictures tell stories, but I can look at every picture on my Instagram account and remember stories and conversations behind them. Right now, though, I keep going back to that picture of me and Jenn. I need to call her and thank her for being a good friend.

 

by Kelly Mattei

Facebook Is Like A Nosey Neighbor

Y’all know I love Facebook. I don’t really think it’s like a nosey neighbor. Heck, you don’t have to be nosey to see details of my life on Facebook…I’m putting them out there myself.

But yesterday, my clever, witty friend, Mary Ann, posted this on Facebook:

Facebook is like having nosey neighbors who don’t really like you. They just stay connected to look over the fence and see what you’re doing.

Before I continue, I must say I prefer it to be spelled “nosy,” so that’s how it will be spelled from here on in this piece.

It wasn’t Mary Ann’s original creation. She got it from a site called Kitchen Fun With My 3 Sons. First of all, it made me laugh, and then it made me think. Aren’t we all peering through a window or over a fence into each other’s lives on Facebook? The difference between looking over a fence or peering into a window and Facebook, though, is that, on social media, we control what other people see about our lives. If you have a peeping Tom or a nosy neighbor, you don’t always know what they see, and you can’t always control it.

About ten years ago, a friend (I’m keeping her name private, to protect the innocent) moved to a new house. She left behind some beloved neighbors, and when she settled into her new home, she discovered her new next-door neighbor was Gladys Kravitz. If you don’t know who Gladys Kravitz is, you never watched the television show, Bewitched. On the show, Mrs. Kravitz was the ultimate nosy neighbor. So my friend’s neighbor wasn’t actually Gladys Kravitz, but she was a real-life, 21st century version of her.

They had a privacy fence between the backyards of the two houses, and occasionally, when my friend was outside, she would catch a glimpse of “Mrs. Kravitz” peering over the fence or between the slats. One day, she called me and said, “I wish I could think of something to shock her.” Well, she had come to the right friend! It became my mission to find the perfect thing to shock Mrs. Kravitz. Sure, we could have gone with a life-size nude statue. But that would have been a little heavy…and probably expensive. Instead, we devised a plan.

My friend went to her local discount store and purchased a rotary clothesline, putting it up in her backyard. (You can purchase them at Amazon here.)I went online to search for the perfect thing to hang on it. I knew I’d be able to find it somewhere, because years before, my brother had caught some that were tossed from a Mardi Gras float in Mobile. After some searching, I found it, ordered it, and had it shipped to my friend.

When she received the package, she called me, laughing hysterically. I said, “Go hang them up! Hurry! I want Gladys Kravitz to see them the next time she looks over there! But you have to sit outside till you get her reaction.”

And she did. She walked outside, and on the clothesline, she hung up the most gigantic pair of red panties one could ever imagine…so big that no one could possibly wear them.

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She called me and said, “It’s done! Those panties look like a big ol’ butt-shaped flag flapping in the breeze!” And she waited. After an hour or so, she heard Gladys Kravitz walk out her back door. Mrs. Kravitz was talking on the phone as she wandered around her yard. My friend was sitting out of sight, but she called me as soon as she heard Mrs. Kravitz. After a few minutes, she knew Mrs. Kravitz had peeked over the fence, because she heard her say to whoever was on the other end of the phone line, “My word! You wouldn’t believe what’s hanging in my crazy neighbor’s yard!”

We laughed and laughed, even though my friend had to keep down the volume of her laughter. I remember her whispering, “I’m the crazy neighbor! I always wanted to be the crazy neighbor!” But Mrs. Kravitz had no idea those gigantic panties had been hung outside for her viewing pleasure. My friend eventually took down the panties, but she left them up long enough for Mrs. Kravitz to get angry about them. She knew she was angry, because she would hear her grumbling through the fence. Unfortunately, this was before every cell phone in America was a smart phone, so there is no photographic evidence.

When I saw Mary Ann’s post about how Facebook is like having nosy neighbors, I responded, “The key lies in giving them PLENTY to look at! You wanna peek over the fence? I’ll give you a reason to peek over the fence!”

But of course, I love Facebook. I don’t think of my Facebook friends as nosy neighbors. I love that they share their lives with me, and I love sharing mine too. After all, when I run into them, we don’t have to do the cocktail party chat. We can converse about real life…or at least the life we put on Facebook. And we can laugh about our nosy neighbors!

***If you have a nosy neighbor you’d like to shock, you can purchase Big Momma Panties at Amazon.com here.***

 

 

 

 

 

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