I’ve been secretary of many organizations. Taking minutes is a secretary’s main job. The purpose of these minutes is to legally protect an organization. Minutes also document an organization’s history. But I’ve seen many sets of minutes that contain too much and are too wordy. Instead of documenting actions, these minutes contain opinions, comments, discussion, wordy accounts, and in some instances, inflammatory words. When minutes are long and involved, members are reluctant to read them. What should minutes contain?

Minutes should begin with the vital facts: name of the organization, type of meeting (board, committee, sub-committee, special event, etc.), date, time and place of the meeting. You should also cite the name of the person who is presiding and the names of those who are present. It isn’t necessary to state the names of those who second motions; the person who proposes the motion is sufficient. And it isn’t necessary to summarize reports that are filed because they are on file. In short, minutes are a record of an organization’s actions.

I’ve been adding something new at the end of my minutes, a summary of the motions that were passed. This enables the officers, members, and auditors to get a quick view of what the organization has been doing and its plans for the future. To foster reading, I list each agenda item in bold and I try to take succinct minutes. “Thanks for the short minutes,” a friend said. “They’re all I need.” If you’re the secretary of an organization, resist the urge to include names because people like to see their names in print. Resist the urge to make comments. Attach officers’ reports, committee reports, and other correspondence.

These minutes will be documents people want to read.

After my twin grandchildren’s parents died in separate car crashes, my husband and I became GRGs, grandparents raising grandchildren. We accepted the task gladly, for we had raised teenagers before, and loved our grandchildren dearly. As the years passed, and our grandkids progressed from 10th grade to 11th, 11th grade to 12th, and graduation, we were protective of them, respectful of them, and loved them more each day. Then our grandkids left for their separate colleges and the house became quiet. Too quiet. We actually missed the drum practice, trumpet runs, rock music, choir music, and teenage laughter. Right now, we’re the home our grandkids come home to during college breaks, so the house is alternately quiet and noisy. But things are changing. My grandson is spending the second half of his junior year in Argentina, too far away for home visits, and we’re not even sure we can call him. My granddaughter leaves for Thailand in May and will be gone a month. Only one more year of college and our grandkids will be gone. We will have an empty nest again. I think my husband and I will adjust, but I don’t think we will adjust quickly. We will miss our grandchildren terribly. We will worry about them. We will wish them well. We will back off and let them experience adulthood. Maybe an empty nest the second time around is a badge of honor.

I love to decorate the house for Christmas. This year I started the day after Thanksgiving. My grandson retrieved the artificial tree from the attic and my granddaughter assembled it. It was bare for several days until I had the time to decorate it. The tree looked charming, replete with ornaments I received during my teaching years. Many of the ornaments, including a minature wooden sled with tiny gifts on top, were homemade. I hung up the red and yellow calico hearts a friend made for me years ago, and blue whales that I made. (We love whales and have a whale weathervane on our house.)

Though we have had real trees for years, searching for a tree in sub-zero Minnesota weather became increasingly difficult. So we gave up, and bought a medium-sized artificial tree with lots of lights. Other decorations, such as a Swedish wooden horse, a hand-knit Santa doll, and a musical angel, made the house look festive. After we came home from our family Christmas in Wisconsin, however, the decorations began to look out of place. To me, there is nothing sadder than Christmas decorations that are up too long.

One by one, I took the ornaments off the tree and put them away for next year. Stockings, the wooden horse, the hand-knit doll, the angel, candles and more, were lovingly stored in boxes. Today, I will take down the wreath hanging inbetween the garage doors, but I will leave the wreath by the front door for another week. The off-white pointsettia, a reminder of the holidays, still looks fresh, as does the spectacular orchid my husband gave me for Christmas.
Christmas is over at our house, but our memories of a boisterous, happy family Christmas remain.

A couple of weeks ago I received a phone call from a man who began with, “Hi Grandma.” He said he had some bad news to share with me. He said he had been driving with friends and the police stopped the car because the driver (not him) was speeding. Drugs were found under the driver’s seat. Since nobody claimed the drugs, all of the people in the car were jailed. As the conversation continued, I kept thinking, “This man doesn’t sound like my grandson.”

He asked me to provide bail money to get him out of jail. The echo was so bad I wondered if the jail was recording the conversation. “You don’t sound like yourself on this phone line,” I commented. The caller hung up immedinstantly.

My brother-in-law received a similar call. The caller said he was in a Mexican jail and needed bail money. According to the local police department, this is a nation-wide scam, and most of the calls come from overseas, hence the echo. The echo also helps to disguise the caller’s voice. When I reported my call to the police, the officer was all-too-familiar with the scam. “I hope you didn’t send him any money,” he commented. No, I didn’t send money, but I was fooled for a few minutes. Thank goodness I made the comment about the caller’s voice.

Don’t become the victim of a scam. If you get a similar call, report it to your local police department and the state fraud bureau.

On Sunday, December 9th, my husband and I joined in The Compassionate Friends Worldwide Candle Lighting. It is held on the second Sunday of December, at 7 p.m., when bereaved parents light candles for their deceased children. The candles are supposed to stay lit for one hour. As candles are lit in community after community, country after country, a virtual wave of light goes around the globe. We readied our candle, watched the clock, and lit it as the chimes struck seven times. I looked at the flame and started to cry. “It never gets easier,” I commented to my husband.

“No, it doesn’t,” he agreed. “But we have learned to live with it.”

Last year was the first time we participated in the ceremony, an emotional experience then and now. Yet the experience was comforting. I felt connected to the thousands of other parents who have lost a child. Last summer I spoke at the Bereaved Parents of the USA Annual Gathering in Tampa, Florida. We participated in a similar candle lighting ceremony there. The couple across from us had lost three children and I wondered how they were still standing. The mother held up two votives and the father one. Witnessing their sorrow made me cry. I cried for them and for us.

Candles won’t bring our children back, but they can unite us, and give us courage to get on with their lives. We will be lighting candles on the second Sunday of December for the rest of our days and honoring our daughter by nurturing her wonderful twins.

I’m not a techie. While I can research topics, create outlines, and write books, I’m not on my cell phone all the time, or tweeting constantly, or familiar with the new greeting card machines. My husband and I went to a discount store this morning to order our Christmas cards. We brought a thumb drive with us. When we found the photo department, we were dismayed to see that ordering cards had been totally computerized. No longer was it possible to turn in a photo at a counter, select the card we wanted, and place an order.

Still, we hoped we could figure things out, and inserted the thumb drive in the slot. According to the monitor, there were five photos stored on the drive, something we knew, but were unable to manage. Only one photo appeared and, despite our maneuvers, we couldn’t access the others. A woman was using the computer next to us and offered to help. “Be patient,” she advised. However, she had similar difficulties, going forwards, backwards, and repeating steps. Finally, she started the process again.

Fifteen minutes later, thanks to the woman’s help, we had created a card and placed our order. “We couldn’t have done this without you,” I said. “And you’ve saved me from mental health treatment!” The receipt said our cards would be ready in 17 minutes, a technological achievement. We did some other shopping, returned to the computer we had used, and scanned our receipt. A door opened and one batch of cards was in the slot. A second batch appeared within seconds. Though we were glad to have Christmas cards so quickly, we felt overwhelmed by technology.

This made me think of all of the automated toys that are being manufactured for children — robots that walk, toys that talk, and thousands of computer games. In my mind, some of these toys aren’t toys at all, they are passive objects to watch. Real toys, like wooden building blocks, require kids to think and make decisions. Don’t get me wrong; I benefit from technology every day. But there are times when I long for the toys of my childhood, toys that gave me hours of fun, and linger in my memory to this day. I hope you have a Merry Technology Christmas, and fondly recall the toys of your childhood.

More than a month before Halloween, costumes, pumpkins, and decorations appeared in stores. The displays were huge and, in my opinion, disproportionate to the Halloween tradition. Weeks passed and more Halloween merchandise arrived, including tree limbs and pumpkin ornaments to hang on them. Had merchandisers confused Halloween with Christmas?

November came, and the holiday confusion continued. I’m cooking Thanksgiving dinner this year and wanted something “Thanksgiving-ish” to put in the center of our dinner table. “We don’t have much Thanksgiving merchandise,” a florist told me. “It’s all about Christmas.” She was right, for when I went to other stores I couldn’t find a suitable decoration. Finally, I returned to the florist and bought two bird figurines, one a cardinal on a pine cone (very Christmas looking), and a sparrow on an acorn (sort of Thanksgiving-ish).

America has wonderful holidays, traditions that honor those who came before us and educate those who come after us. Holiday confusion doesn’t help the younger generation. We need to acknowledge each holiday for what it represents. Let’s stop the confusion and get back to holiday basics. A neighbor on my cul-de-sac put up their Christmas lights today. That won’t happen at our house. The Christmas wreath will go up after Thanksgiving, just as it should, and the members of my family will enjoy Thanksgiving together.

When I’m feeling down, I go to the Internet and listen to Susan Boyle’s first rendition of “I Dreamed a Dream.” The video shows an audience decidedly unimpressed with the singer’s appearance. As soon as she sang the first sentence, however, people started cheering. Mid-way through the song most audience members were on their feet. The instant Susan Boyle hit the high notes, it looked as if every audience member was standing. Why do I listen to Susan Boyle’s song? I listen because all of us, no matter how many birthdays we have celebrated, have dreams. We want to turn our thoughts into reality. A freelance writer for 35+ years, I have dreams of writing more books and selling them. Dreams can keep us going.