Focused at Fifty

Last week, I was shopping in a consignment store and was drawn over to the tie rack. Was that it? Was that the tie? My heart felt like it stopped momentarily. It was slender, cloth, very "Mod", late 50's/early 60's. I looked at it closer and deeply sighed, "Nope, wrong color." I would have to still keep looking. After all, I've been looking for the last 3 decades. What's another year? Unfortunately, no it was not THE tie. The tie I am looking for was very special. It was my Grandpop Herman Newman's tie. I remember I came across it in a box of stuff that my Mom was giving away. I asked if I could have it because it was his and without a seconds thought she replied of course! I kept it for years, hanging it in a special place on the tie rack for those ties. There are my favorite ties from the early 90s when I would go dancing with Sheryl at clubs across Philly. There are two ties from the 80s which were my Dad/s. There is a dophin tie my stepdad Ba

 

 

I often feel sorry and guilty for relegating certain ornaments to the back of the Christmas tree just so that the tree is not lopsided. You know those ornaments. Not the most favorite anymore. The older ones. Or the broken ones. The poor Mouseketeer who lost one of his hands and his sword in battle, probably with one of our two cats. 😂 Oh Sir Squeak-a-lot, you have served us well and we will keep you... Guard the back of the tree well my loyal mouse-knight. ❤️