Schadenfreude. Who’s ever heard of it?

It’s a German word that means delighting in the misfortune of others. I had never heard of this word until I was doing some research for my book The Ugly Woman’s Guide to Internet Dating: What I Learned From 70 First Dates. Before this, I’d heard it described as “The Crab Theory.”

Put one crab in a five-gallon bucket and Mr. Crab will do everything in his power to scale its smooth wall and crawl out of that bucket. Put two or more crabs in a bucket and when one starts to climb up, the others will grab him and pull him back down into the bucket. Unfortunately, humans sometime exhibit the same tendencies as crabs.

In my own life, I’ve struggled mightily with envy, and I’m sorry to say that too many times, I had a decided leaning toward the crab/schadenfreude side.

And then one day, I read a story in the Christian Science Sentinel about a woman who’d spent a lifetime cultivating the habit of gratitude. She said that her mother had taught her to feel sincerely joyous and grateful for the good things that happened in other people’s lives, and to take it as a personal promise from God that, if it happened for them, it could happen for her, too.

The Buddhist have a word for this: Mudita. It’s the practice of finding joy in other people’s success and happiness.

The fact is, we’re all cracked pots and fallible and prone to foibles and missteps and mistakes and even lapses in good judgment. Who among us hasn’t lost our temper and said something we deeply regret? Who among us hasn’t surrendered to temptation when we could have done better? My point is, maybe the real need is to stop staring so hard at other people’s sins and take a better look at our own shortcomings and work on improving those.

Maybe we need to stop cultivating the habit of schadenfreude and work on mudita.

For two decades, I’ve been a writer. The majority of my writing has been on internet dating and old houses and historic architecture.

Today’s the exception.

In June 2010, my 91-year-old father moved into assisted living. It’s been a flurry of activity, closing up his house, moving him to a new place, getting things settled, and dealing with the 101 details of his life. As his POA, the details seem to be endless.

Making all this ever more difficult is the fact that my father made many poor choices in life, such as walking out on my mother and me in 1974.  It’s a long and lugubrious story but in short, Forgiving our Parents, Forgiving Ourselves was one of the best books I ever read. I highly recommend it.

In 2001, after my father’s second wife died, my father started to re-enter my life bit by bit. He was 82 years old.

Now he’s 91, and old and frail and needs a lot of help on a lot of fronts. Sometimes, despite my daily prayers and best efforts and dogged determination, there are days when I still feel angry with him.

When we were cleaning out his house, we found a baby book - his baby book - from 1919. I’d expected to find a few loose photos stuck within its brittled pages. Instead, I found an incredibly detailed record of a little boy’s life from June 1919 to sometime in 1926. The “baby book” was filled with vintage photos and detailed information and stories and even a locket of baby’s hair, safely ensconced in a tiny envelope with a delicate blue ribbon.

Looking at the handwritten notes, I saw my father in a new light. More than 90 years ago, he was someone’s beloved baby boy. This cute little baby, smiling back at me from the faded-pages of an antique book, warmed my heart and softened the wrath I’d felt.

I’ve heard it said that the kindest thing we can do for our heavenly Father is to be kind to His children. It occurs to me that - in addition to the divine command - perhaps the kindest thing I can do for my paternal grandparents is to be kind to their youngest son, their beloved little boy, Thomas.

My father was a twin, born ten minutes after his brother "Junior." Here's their picture from Fall 1919. The caption (written by my grandmother) said, "In their buggy, Junior always reaches out to hold Thomas' little hand."

"Junior" and Thomas at the park. Apparently, Thomas doesn't like the fact that Junior (left) has a toy and Thomas does not. Thomas is so rattled, he's on the verge of falling over.

Thomas and Junior (front and rear) with their maternal grandparents, the Whitmores.

Edward Atkinson Fuller Junior (left) and Thomas Hoyt Fuller (right)

A wicker basket built for two!

Thomas in the foreground, playing with his brother "Junior."

Awesome necklace

Junior (Ed) on left, Mom (Florence Whitmore Fuller) and Thomas.

Thomas with his horsie

Boys with Judge Aurelius Hutton's "prize collie" (according to the caption).

"Junior" (Ed) on the left, Thomas on the right with an unnamed kitty.

My father in the early 1950s with two of his four children.

Last week, I spent countless hours bundling up the children and getting them ready for their new homes. Shipping books is a lot of work and time-intensive, and standing in line at the Milan Station (Norfolk Post Office on 38th Street) is a foretaste of hell, but…

It sure is fun to think about this book - Montgomery Ward’s Mail-Order Homes - leaving home to be enjoyed by others. Dale Patrick Wolicki and I spent five years researching and writing this book, and it’s new research on a new topic. As I’ve told my husband and my friend Dale many times, this book will still be in use as a reference work many years after we’re all gone from this earth.

If you’d like to learn more about Wardway Homes, click here.

If you’d like to give your friends and relatives the perfect Christmas present, click here.

And if you’d like to support your local library by donating a copy of Wardway Homes, click here.

Wardway books leaving home

Handsome hubby poses with the new book. Two cuties together in one photo!

Recently, I drove to Cape Charles to photograph some of the kit homes there. First off, let me say that I *LOVE* that community and if anyone would like to bequeath The Sears Lady (that’s me) a piece of property in Cape Charles, that’d be just dandy. It really is a beautiful place and I’m surprised it did not make Forbes’ “Best Places to Live” list.

Really and truly.

I’ll be expanding this post as the days go by (these picture-heavy posts take time), but here’s a few very interesting homes I found on the main drag into Cape Charles.

To read more about Sears Homes, click here:

The Aladdin Sheffield was a very popular house for Aladdin.

Here's an Aladdin Sheffield in Cape Charles, Virginia (on the Eastern Shore)

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This was one of Sears' biggest and nicest homes.

Right down the street from the Sheffield (see above) is the Sears Glenn Falls. Although it's partly obscured by the trees, you can see the familiar lines of the Glenn Falls.

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The Pheonix is one of Sears' most unusual kit homes. Interesting design and lots of fun details.

Sears Pheonix - in the flesh - in Cape Charles, Virginia

Side view of the Pheonix

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Sears Somerset

The porch has been altered, but I'd be willing to be money that this is indeed a Sears Somerset.

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Sears Walton

This "Walton" is one of two, side by side, in Cape Charles, Virginia

A few days ago, I posted about Norfolk and Western’s #1134, an old steam locomotive that’s recently been “cosmetically restored” and moved to downtown Portsmouth.

According to the The Lost Engines of Roanoke website, the old steam locomotive was rescued from the Virginia Scrap Iron and Metal Yard in Roanoke, Virginia where it had been dying a slow-death by rust and kudzu for the last 60 years.

Thanks to Richard Jenkins and his skilled photography, we have some photos of #1134 when she languished in the scrap yard, waiting for death to come. Richard Jenkins is the owner of the “Lost Engines of Roanoke Website.” If you love old steam trains and have a few hours to kill, I heartily recommend his site. http://lostengines.railfan.net/nw1134.shtml

This beautiful old steam engine was pulled from the weeds and restored and moved to a fledgling train museum in downtown Portsmouth. See this post for more information.

Photos below are used with permission from Richard Jenkins (copyright 2008).  Photos are copyright protected and may not be reprinted or republished without permission.

#1134 languishes at a Roanoke scrap yard. Photos courtesy of Richard Jenkins (copyright 2008)

Close-up of drive wheels on #1134. Photo courtesy Richard Jenkins (copyright 2008).

Inside the cab of the #1134. Photo courtesy Richard Jenkins (copyright 2008).

Here’s a current picture of #1134 today, as she sits on the rails again in downtown Portsmouth.

N&W #1134 as she sits today in downtown Portsmouth

That I overlooked before…

This (see below) is a Sears House, and more specifically a Sears “Dover.” Note the clipped gables on the roof’s edge (also called a jerkinhead).   This house is in Alton, Illinois and it’s one of my favorite Sears Homes, and this Dover is the prettiest little Dover I’ve ever seen.

A pretty little Sears Dover in Alton, IL

Somewhere around the 29th first date, I’d figured out that meeting for drinks was a far better plan than meeting for lunches and dinners. Get stuck with a ne’er-do-well on a dinner date and you’re committed to chow down 2,000 calories of fat-laden Shrimp Scampi just so you can make a fast get-away. Too many calories, too much money and way too much time invested in some pitiful man who’s got 101 equally boring stories, all of which begin or end with, “My ex-wife is such a crazy witch…”

But then I discovered that meeting for “drinks” presented its own problems because people usually meet at bars when they’re meeting for drinks. I’m highly allergic to cigarette smoke and it’s hard to be your best charming self when you’re busy trying to surreptitiously sniffle and/or wipe a drippy nose on the cuff of your pretty shirt. Further, I don’t drink alcohol, and I don’t like bars. Being around drunken sots is a lot more fun if you’re one of the sots. Or so I’ve surmised.

So then I started meeting a few guys at public places. I met a couple fellows at parks and I met two guys at a local library. Meeting at the city park was nice and gave both me and Mr. Potential Suitor a chance to walk and talk and admire nature’s beauty. Meeting at the library wasn’t such a good idea. It’s hard to be clever and cute when you’re forced to keep your voice to a whisper.

In the end, I discovered the best meet and greet places were little cafes and coffee shops and outdoor restaurants. For  these quixotic quests, such places were quiet and quaint, just right for a quirky girl, like me.

And in fact, that’s where I met my 70th first date. And while I was impressed with so many of #70’s fine qualities, perhaps the one that impressed me most of all:  He never said anything ugly about his ex-wife or ex-girlfriends.

Once a year, we go back to that coffee shop and sit in the same spot and drink the same drinks and hold hands and gaze into one another’s eyes. It’s wholly delightful.

Teddy (Theodora Duncan Donuts) was sleeping on the leather couch, with her head on the pillow when her father (Pop) decided that she looked a little chilly. So he draped a little blanket on her.

Teddy is a Sheltie (Shetland Sheep Dog) but with an unusual amount of white on her face. Plus, her ears have never flopped over at the tips. However, her long fur coat is become thicker and longer and more luxuriant with every passing month.
Teddy is a happy girl.

I’ve told her frequently that many dogs sleep outside and live in primitive structures called Dog Houses but she just laughs out loud and trots away and chews on her squeaky lamby toy. Every now and then when we’re out for a walk, I point out dogs that are behind fences and tell her that some dogs never go out for walks. That makes her laugh, too.

One of the things I admire about Teddy is that she lives in the moment. She shows no remorse or regret for the time that she gnawed on my cell phone (and the charger), or the time she ate the stuffing out of her one of her chew toys, or the time she walked through a blackened mud puddle and then came into the house.

Dogs know how to live in the moment.

Teddy rests blissfully and dreams of the day's fun