JOY ALONG THE WAY: 'SCIENCE, HOW SOON BEFORE WE ABSTRACT BODILY BATTERIES?'

Nearly every gift giving season we find that we have to purchase batteries to accompany the gifts, either for those we give or receive. They are nearly always of the AA or AAA strength.

By the time we get all the holiday things put away for another year, I feel it would be nice if our bodies came with little extra compartments or zippered pockets which we could open and slip in some Energizers, Ever Readies or Duracells.

I sit in my rocker and let this idea grow legs. Suppose one could, figuratively speaking of course, install some AAA batteries into the mind, for what might the designated letters stand?

With feet propped on the ottoman, a wool afghan over my lap, the first "A" word that comes to me Appreciation. I am appreciative of my little home and the comforts it offers on a cold January day. The furnace is humming gently, spreading warmth. Another hum, that of the cellar, aka refrigerator, reassures me there is food there when I get hungry. The telephone is within reach whereby I can make contact with the outside world if I wish. The morning paper, still in its cellophane bag lies on a reachable table, full of promise that I can keep up with the saga of the Scott City Interchange, who says what about taxes, someone's view about "gays" in the military, what's on at the movies, how the windfall of the tobacco money is to be spent, etc., etc. My little devotional booklet reassures me that in the midst of seeming chaos there is divine order. As the old psalmist says, "My lines have fallen in pleasant places," and I appreciate all those who helped to bring about this state of my affairs.

The second "A" in the bodily battery would stand for Alert. Not only do I want to be mentally and quickly perceptive to all things that make me appreciative, I want to be watchful and prepared for anything that might endanger my world. I listen intently to all sounds that come to my ears. If something awakes me in the night, I lie still in bed and go through my established routine of questioning: Where did the sound originate, was it a thud, a loud clap, a metallic sound, a rasping, a creaking? Having categorized it, I wait to hear it again. When it doesn't come, I go back to sleep and examine things in the morning. Sometimes I find a book has slid off the table pile onto the floor. Usually the nighttime noises are the creaking of the rafter sin the attic, the scampering of a squirrel across the adjoining flat-roofed room, though why it is up so late, I don't know. Or, is it early? Sometimes a screeching ambulance goes by and I say a prayer for whomever it may contain. If I don't see some member of my neighboring families coming or going for several days or their after dark lights, I stand ready to inquire. I read the agenda of the city council meetings so as to be alerted to anything they may be doing to chance my way of life. If a car stops in front of my house and no one gets out of the car for a long time, I am watchful.

The third "A" I call Aware. It overlaps Alert somewhat, but it includes things that I don't usually have to be ready to take action on, but just be cognizant of what is going on around me. I note the days are a smidgen longer now, the snowbird have come to mingle with the chickadees, titmice, cardinals and cedar waxwings around the feeder. Twilight comes on suddenly, filling up the far corners of the Park with purple shadows. Form 1040 has come and the moon will be full this Thursday.

REJOICE!

Jean Bell Mosley is an author and longtime resident of Cape Girardeau.