Tag: Hogwarts

What is Heaven and Am I Going?

What is Heaven and Am I Going?

So, there is a commercial on television now with some guy asking me if I’m going to heaven. How do you answer that question?

I guess I’d have an easier time if I knew for sure there actually is a heaven. Or what heaven is if it does exist.

How do I know if I want to go there if I don’t know what I’m signing up for? Didn’t your mother teach you to read everything before signing?

Cause now that we are watching this insane world you have to wonder; what is everyone’s version of heaven and whose do you want to go to?

I mean I have certain criteria here for how I’d like to spend the afterlife. I don’t mean to be snobby about this, but if I’m going to be in a place for all eternity, I’m not spending my days listening to politicians. 

I definitely don’t want to have to watch award programs and listen to hosts doing unfunny monologues and see Robert De Niro’s pissed off looks when Robert Downey Jr. wins instead of him.

Can you imagine having to spend eternity  listening to Oprah talk about her weight loss issues, car salesmen saying let me check with my manager and see if I can make that deal or watching Nancy Pelosi getting more Botox injections?

I want to go someplace where refrigerators are always fully stocked with unhealthy foods, your stomach is always empty and fat cells don’t exist.

Can someone promise me I won’t have to make a bed, wash a floor or clean a toilet?

A place where there is no traffic, the only newscasters are Huntley and Brinkley and Walter Cronkite and John Kennedy will actually tell me how many bullets really did kill him.

Where all the property is on the water, there are no UV rays and you can walk halfway across the ocean and find a sandbar to sunbathe on. Oh, and the fish are all no longer than 10 inches and in neon colors.

Where pina coladas flow all day and no one gets drunk, where children can play outside anywhere, anytime and no one would ever hurt them and you can pull apart monkey bread without getting your hands sticky.

A place where everything for sale that you want is always equal to the amount of money you’re carrying, chocolate chip cookies are always warm and coming out of the oven next to fresh cold milk, and you can have Thanksgiving any or every day you want with only the relatives you can stand.

Where Santa delivers 24/7 and the temperature is always a perfect 72 degrees with no rain or snow in sight. And the chocolate fountains on every corner are always flowing.

Where your cell phone never runs out of juice, and old Mickey Mouse Club shows and Bugs Bunny, Road Runner and Tweety and Sylvester cartoons are always playing, and Clarabell can talk.

A place where no one says anything nasty or mean to anyone else, where people say thank you and excuse me, and Harry and Meagan are not allowed to write books about how terrible life is in the palace.

A place where babies never cry because their needs are instantly met, where no one is judged by their skin color or religion and anyone who threatens to take over the world has to go back down and live in it again. 

There must be a sign at the gates of my heaven that reads, no politicians or members of Congress, assholes, or haters allowed and there is a no tolerance policy for those who mistreat others.

If a heaven exists with those features, I might be enticed to buy a ticket. 

However, since everyone has their own idea of what heaven or hell entails, I don’t want to get on the wrong train and wind up in the hell where Hamas gets its 72 virgins. 

I imagine my heaven train would be in a special station like the one to Hogwarts, where you have to go to a certain wall and push your stuff through or oops, no entrance for you.

So, in answer to the question, are you going to heaven, I’d have to say I’m not rushing to sign up like it’s a time share opportunity in Cabo.

When I’m sure what I’m in for, I’ll sign on the dotted line. Until then I’m still down here on earth, hell or whatever the name for this place is now. 
Maybe the question this guy on TV should be asking is; “Are you ready to turn earth into heaven by living like you’re already there?”

Now that’s a question I could easily answer?

How a Sorting Hat Could Manage Painful Memories

How a Sorting Hat Could Manage Painful Memories 

The other day a friend was amazed by my memory. She couldn’t get over how I remembered so many things from so many years ago. I realized long ago my mind was merely a clearinghouse for trivia and useless information, but I’ve found a way to appreciate having a sense of recall, although at a much slower pace now. As I like to say my computer takes longer to reboot.

However more and more of late I’ve questioned whether or not a good memory is a positive or negative feature. Is it good to be able to remember so many facts and figures and replay old memories at a moment’s notice? Especially when lately I can’t remember what I walked in the room to get from one second to another?

I think any Harry Potter fan is aware of that magical wonder called the sorting hat. It was used when one enters Hogwarts to determine in which house the student will reside. So if the sorting hat is so smart maybe it can help me with my memories.

When someone reaches the “golden years,” (that phrase always cracks me up) there are certainly far too many memories to recall. Some we try to call upon and others seem to flash into our minds with no warning, like a bird into an airplane engine. With I’m afraid the same unfortunate result.

I need the sorting hat to ensure the unwanted memories don’t slip through the cracks and attack what was otherwise a pleasant day. 

With the help of the sorting hat the remembrances we would not elect to keep could be sent off to a special part of our brain to remain stored away.

Lately I’ve become acquainted with a new term, grief dreams. They are the strange dreams we have after a loss of someone close. I thought I was losing my mind when I awakened every morning thinking what was that about until I learned a close friend who’s recently also lost her sibling was also experiencing them.

We have no control over what we dream so while sleeping and faced with vivid dreams about our loved ones we cannot stop any painful results. Yet when we’re awake I’d hope we’d be able to restrain our thoughts. But as usual when believing I have some power over my life, I was wrong.

Wasn’t it Hamlet who famously said, “for in that sleep of death what dreams may come must give us pause.”

Well I’d like to pause these recollections from invading my space.

Anyone who has ever known me will tell you I’ve always believed humor was a cure for all ills. Now at this age I see how wrong I was. There are some circumstances where a laugh is not up to the task and loss is one of these times. 

Memories have a mind of their own. They must populate a place in our brain where there are no fences or door with locks. This makes them capable of rushing out to play whenever they wish. 

A sorting hat would put a lid on their freedom. A childhood memory of my brother and I with my grandfather could not simply attack me while I’m driving in the car and singing along with my favorite song. Or when I’m in the shower rinsing the shampoo from my hair and suddenly there’s a memory coming at me full force and I’m sobbing instead of making my grocery list.

I believe it’s difficult when one loses your parents and becomes no one’s child any longer. 
Now I have lost the moniker of sister. Yes, I still have one brother, but it doesn’t seem the same. I was a sister to two and now… Why should these labels matter at all actually, especially when we’re older and yet… Does time heal all wounds or is that a fantasy we embrace to pretend the pain will eventually stop?

I know these memories I seem to be castigating are actually a necessary part of our lives and we need them those who are gone nearby. So as painful as it is, I know in the end remembering is a good thing. To recall happy moments is vital even though when a wound is fresh the happy may actually seem painful. 

Friends who have experienced loss say it gets easier with time and eventually thoughts that are now causing pain will bring a smile. I wouldn’t doubt that is true, but right now a sorting hat seems like a very good idea. Perhaps it could choose to let through the ones that might cause the least hurt and save the other memories for when I’m a bit stronger and able to handle them.

Some recollections will always cause a pang of pain.

Whether a cruel remark from a classmate, a break up or even a disappointment the marks of these experiences seem to leave scars. In time we learn to form some type of defense against them, but loss that’s a tough one.

The finality of losing a loved becomes more real as time goes by. And each memory opens the scar again. 

Memories keep someone alive and that’s what we want. It just seems sorrow is a high price to pay.

But would we rather forget? I think not. For in the end we are all well aware of the fact no sorting hat, no forgetfulness can hide the truth…we need to keep the people we love close to us and reminiscences accomplish that. And no hurt or tears could ever be too high a price to pay.