NEWSLETTERS

December 2002
©2002 Terri Hendrix

Hello and happy December! Thanks so much for keepin' the wheels rollin' and supporting my music the way you have -- not only this past year, but in all the years leading up to this past year too! I appreciate you. There's no way I could do my hybrid of music, let alone my business, grassroots without you. It was a busy year, so I'm taking a few weeks off here and there to write, learn some new tunes, spend some time in the country, and get some R&R. As this year comes to its colorful finale, on my days off I've been thinking about ... yellow lights. "What?" you ask. Let me explain.
"Don't be sad because it's over, be glad it happened," read the sign in front of the blue-shingled office building on the corner of Hopkins Street in downtown, San Marcos. As I navigated my way (like a turtle) through the gas-fumed bustle of college students, locals, and cement trucks that constitute most of my small town's rush hour, I thought about that quote. I also pondered the probability of me honestly completing my ever-so-lengthy laundry list of errands. Such lists are supposed to be set to music. Instead, I found myself at a red light, in traffic, with my head throbbing in time to the thumping bass from the subwoofers of the silver Mustang beside me. Mischievously, I switched my radio to the station that plays Christmas music 24/7 from Thanksgiving up to the last fizzle of New Years Eve fireworks. As I cranked up the volume of "Little Drummer Boy," the light turned green, the Mustang gunned past, and I was off ... (like a snail). Aaaaaagh.

Busy. Busy. Busy. Where did the year go? Hello December! ... a beautiful month ... also an enigma. Among other things, the month celebrates personal reflection, happiness, singing "Jingle Bells," honoring one's religious preference, feasting, giving, and receiving the "presence" of others. And ... I must add, eating lots of pumpkin pie. As the last leaves fall from the trees, it's also the month associated with commercialism, expectations, grief over loved ones past and present, the expansion of waistbands (from too much pumpkin pie), and for some ... regret. You know, that word used to label everything from circumstances beyond our control to missed appointments, bad news, 2002 resolutions that never saw the crack of dawn, and "eatin' crow" (should've stuck with the pumpkin pie) when you've made a mistake. Recently, I talked with a few friends about regret and what that word meant to them. One friend said, "Never regret the things you've done, only the things you didn't do." Another friend, who used to be ruled by regrets, now believes that the past is ... past. Through the eyes of her child, she says she's changed her thoughts on this matter. One day, as she confided in her son her life's story and some of the poor choices she felt she'd made along the way, her son stopped her and said, "But Mom, had you not made those choices you might not have had me." True. What we don't do is often just as important as what we do.

So ... after gathering puzzling comments from my loved ones, I came to the conclusion that regrets and how they individually affected us varied as much as my hair color this past year. For some, regrets belong in one's emotional junkyard. For others, regrets get tagged with a red flag on the outposts of the mind so that the mistake leading up to that particular regret is never repeated.

A honk of a horn (from a postman I know) and a wave later, on my last errand (ok, I cheated and decided that toilet paper can be used as paper towels if one doesn't wish to go to the grocery store), I put my list down, stuck my neck out, and crawled (like an armadillo) through a yellow light. I made it. Good, 'cause getting a ticket would've been something I surely would've regretted. You know, it's the yellow lights (not the red) that get to me. I never know what to do. Put the peddle to the metal or slam on the brakes? Hey, what if before making any decision, you got a yellow light and had to stop and pause before moving forward?

Maybe if I'd thought about the effect my decision making ... at life's yellow lights ... would have on another, I'd have one less regret to flag on an outpost at the close of this year. But life, of course, doesn't have yellow lights before every decision, so sometimes you just plow right through them and cross your fingers. Thankfully, I'm blessed to have a circle of friends that forgive my occasional social blunders ... as I do theirs. And maybe that's what it's all about. When possible ... forgiveness. Acceptance. Of ourselves and others. Letting the sun shine into our hearts so that our eyes can see and our heads can think more clearly. Pulling into my driveway, welcomed by my barking mutts, I crawled out of the car (like a caterpillar) and made my way slowly (like a turtle) around the back of my house to get my Christmas decorations out of the shed. I found several strands of sparkling yellow lights. I'll hang them. All over the house. And by the end of this season, I won't be sad another year's passed -- I'll be happy it happened.
Wherever this newsletter finds you, know that I wish you a wonderful, safe holiday season full of warmth, cheer, and very little -- if anything at all -- to regret.
Kind regards,
Terri Hendrix

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