LIFE IN THE 1500s


The next time you are washing your hands and complain because the water
temperature isn't just how you like it, think about how things used to
be. Here are some facts about the1500s:

Most people got married in June because they took their yearly bath in
May, and still smelled pretty good by June. However, they were starting
to smell, so brides carried a bouquet of flowers to hide the body odor.
Hence the custom today of carrying a bouquet when getting married.

Baths consisted of a big tub filled with hot water.

The man of the house had the privilege of the nice clean water, then
all the other sons and men, then the women and finally the children.
Last of all the babies. By then the water was so dirty you could
actually lose someone in it. Hence the saying, Don't throw the baby out
with the Bath water.

Houses had thatched roofs-thick straw-piled high, with no wood
underneath. It was the only place for animals to get warm, so all the
cats and other small animals (mice, bugs) lived in the roof When it
rained it became slippery and sometimes the animals would slip and fall
off the roof. Hence the saying. It's raining cats and dogs.

There was nothing to stop things from falling into the house. This
posed a real problem in the bedroom where bugs and other droppings
could mess up your nice clean bed. Hence, a bed with big posts and a
sheet hung over the top afforded some protection. That's how canopy
beds came into existence.

The floor was dirt. Only the wealthy had something other than dirt.
Hence the saying, Dirt poor. The wealthy had slate floors that would
get slippery in the winter when wet, so they spread thresh (straw) on
floor to help keep their footing. As the winter wore on, they added
more thresh until, when you opened the door, it would all start
slipping outside. A piece of wood was placed in the entranceway. Hence
the saying a thresh hold.

(Getting quite an education, aren't you?)

In those old days, they cooked in the kitchen with a big kettle that
always hung over the fire. Every day they lit the fire and added things
to the pot. They ate mostly vegetables and did not get much meat. They
would eat the stew for dinner, leaving leftovers in the pot to get cold
overnight and then start over the next day. Sometimes stew had food in
it that had been there for quite a while. Hence the rhyme, Peas
porridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot nine days
old.

Sometimes they could obtain pork, which made them feel quite special.
When visitors came over, they would hang up their bacon to show off. It was a sign of wealth that a man could, bring home the bacon. They would
cut off a little to share with guests and would all sit around and chew
the fat.

Those with money had plates made of pewter. Food with high acid content
caused some of the lead to leach onto the food, causing lead poisoning
death. This happened most often with tomatoes, so for the next 400
years or so, tomatoes were considered poisonous.

Bread was divided according to status. Workers got the burnt bottom of
the loaf, the family got the middle, and guests got the top, or the
upper crust.

Lead cups were used to drink ale or whisky. The combination would
sometimes knock the imbibers out for a couple of days. Someone walking
along the road would take them for dead and prepare them for burial.
They were laid out on the kitchen table for a couple of days and the
family would gather around and eat and drink and wait and see if they
would wake up. Hence the custom of holding a wake.

England is old and small and the local folks started running out of
places to bury people. So they would dig up coffins and would take the
bones to a bone-house, and reuse the grave. When reopening these
coffins, 1 out of 25 coffins were found to have scratch marks on the
inside and they realized they had been burying people alive. So they
would tie a string on the wrist of the corpse, lea d it through the
coffin and up through the ground and tie it to a bell. Someone would
have to sit out in the graveyard all night (the graveyard shift) to
listen for the bell; thus, someone could be, saved by the bell or was
considered a ...dead ringer.

And that's the truth. Now, whoever said History was boring ! !

A Gift.....

The other day a young person asked me how I felt about being old.

I was taken aback, for I do not think of myself as old.
Upon seeing my reaction, he was immediately embarrassed, but
I explained that it was an interesting question, and I would ponder
it, and let him know.

Growing Older, I decided, is a gift.
I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I
have always wanted to be. Oh, not my body! I sometime despair
over my body ... the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, and the cellulite.
And often I am taken aback by that old person that lives in my
mirror, but I don't agonize over those things for long.

I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my
loving family for less gray hair or a flatter belly.
As I've aged, I've become more kind to myself, and less critical
of myself. I've become my own friend. I don't chide myself for
eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for buying
that silly cement gecko that I didn't need, but looks so avant
garde on my patio. I am entitled to be messy, to be extravagant,
to smell the flowers.

I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon;
before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.
Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer
until 4.am and then sleep until -- ?

I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 50's , 60"s, 70's, 80's and even 90's and if I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love... I will.........

I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a
bulging body, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to,
despite the pitying glances from the bikini set. They, too, will get
old. (if they're lucky)

I know I am sometimes forgetful. But then again, some of life
is just as well forgotten and I eventually remember the important things.

Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your
heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or
even when a beloved pet gets hit by a car? But broken hearts are what g ive
us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken
is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.

I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turn gray,
and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves
on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before
their hair could turn silver.

I can say "no," and mean it.
I can say "yes." and mean it.

As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less
about what other people think; I don't question myself anymore.
I've even earned the right to be wrong.

So, to answer your question, I like being older. It has set me free.
I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever,
but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could
have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert
every single day... (if I want).

Today, I wish you a day of ordinary miracles.
Love simply...
Love generously...
Care deeply...
Speak kindly...
And,
Leave the rest to God

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One year ago on July 8, 2006, I found the Stream!

I was newly retired, and very lonesome and I was engulfed with many emotions. Some good, some not so good.

I’m so glad I found you beautiful people. I have made friends that I would never have made.

I have read more, and thought more, laughed more and been lonesome less because of you!

I have ranted and raved and argued (constructively), and been able to be myself..

I have studied more of my Bible than I have in ages.

I was scared of this new journey I had decided to embark on. “Oh Ye of Little Faith”! If only I had known…

******************************************************************

This is for you STREAMERS!

On my journey, I decided to stop by a Stream that I found quite by accident.

The Stream was clear and clean and full of beautiful pebbles. The pebbles were of all shapes and sizes, and colors. You could tell some had been in the Stream for quite a while.

The water of the Stream gently caressed the pebbles and the sound it made as it constantly rippled was music to my ears.

I put my feet in the gentle rushing water and immediately felt at home. I touched first one pebble and then another. Some pebbles touched me back with a sincere welcome.

I decided to stay for awhile.

I found the water could get deep in places, and some of the pebbles could have some rough and sharp edges.

I noticed tho, when one of the pebbles got chipped or bumped, or pushed around, all of the other pebbles would immediately come to that pebbles rescue, shielding them from harm.

Sometimes a branch or a large ugly twig would get into the Stream and cause damage. The pebbles would come together, and eventually the branch or large twig would float on down the Stream, out to the river.

The Stream was alive!

The Stream had a great imagination!

Even with all the different religious backgrounds, and careers and ages, the Stream was a Happy and Nurturing place.

I found myself in a place full of compassion. This Stream truly cared for each other!

The Stream was so intelligent! Each pebble, whether large or small had a different talent, and wit and charm.

I love my beautiful Stream that I found on that day in July 2006.

I love the way it flows. Each pebble represents hope and love and life and a whole lot of strength.

Each pebble is from all over this vast world. They are unique. I love the thoughts, and the dreams each have. I love each family I have grown to know and love.

I have cried when they have cried, and I have laughed when they have laughed. I hurt when they hurt. I rejoice, when they rejoice.

I’m so proud to be a pebble in this Stream.

Once again, God has blessed Heide, alittle pebble in a beautiful Stream.......

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No matter how you celebrate the 4th of July, have a wonderful time doing it!!!!