Does anyone out there remember the old Morris Chair? The last time I visited my father before his death, he was sitting in his special chair, a Morris Chair. The year was 1953, in the summer. I was living in Maryland on the Delmarva Peninsula and had gone home to Kentucky to see my father. He had suffered a stroke and I went to see if I could be of any help to my mother in caring for him. He was 71 and had given up working at his job as a tax and bookkeeping service. The night before he had stayed up to watch the coronation of Queen Elizabeth on television.
On the particular day I remember, he was sitting in his favorite chair, in his bedroom and he was using his right hand to lift his left hand. His left arm and hand were resting on the wooden arm of the Morris chair. He was attempting to make his left hand move and saying "Come on Lefty, come on". Not much was known about strokes at that time, so no rehabilitation was ordered. He lived for six months in that condition. In the present time he may have been rehabilitated through any of several means. As it was, he struggled with his inability to use his left side and eventually died from complications of pneumonia around Thanksgiving of that year.
My father knew he could not continue to live like that and he had discussed it with my mother. He told her he did not want to die as "the children might need me". With eight children, he dearly loved each one of us and began each day in prayer for every one of us. I suppose I associate my father with that Morris chair as it was his chair and we had it in our home for a long time. I think it was the forerunner of the Lazy Boy of today.
This memory was pulled to the fore this morning when I was looking at the favorite chair of my late husband, a Lawson chair. It was originally red leather and we probably bought it in the 1950's. Now it is upholstered in a masculine pattern of blues and blacks and maroons which my son-in-law had selected around twenty years ago. Because it was my husbands favorite chair, it has sentimental value for me, plus it is a comfortable chair for resting.
You may have a favorite chair now or one that you wish you still had. I am in that category also. We once bought a Lincoln chair and it may have been the forerunner of the Morris as it looked similar but was set on a rocker base. I had the audacity to undertake the task of reupholstering it myself with no skills in that area. It was covered with old red velvet and looking rather ratty. I was brave enough to try as we only paid $10 for it from an "antique" dealer. I do not believe for one minute that it had any value as an antique, but it had rockers and I wanted a rocker for the baby we expected. Since we were on a limited budget it seemed like a good idea. We did not keep the Lincoln chair however. It was old and musty and somewhere along the way we gave it away or junked it. It really had no sentimental value for me and that is why I did not feel compelled to keep it.
I think most men have a favorite chair in their homes, or it seems that they should have a place to relax after a day of work. Archie Bunker had his and beware anyone who sat in his chair. For my father, he used his chair to sit while he read the evening newspaper. That is almost a thing of the past. So many people get their news via television or on line. I think that favorite chair for most men is now where they sit to watch television in the evening. It may be an unnamed symbol of authority. He who sits here has earned the right to enjoy this space and not be disturbed.
I had almost forgotten about the old Morris chair so I checked it out on Wikipedia and learned that it was originally a prototype of Ephraim Colman in rural Sussex but was marketed by William Morris company, as early as the 1880's. The main feature of it was the reclining back which was hinged to be raised and lowered as desired. I understand a type of Morris chair is still available for purchase. All that I knew about it at the time was that it was Daddy's chair and if anyone was in it when he entered the room, they vacated it immediately. It was relinquished not out of fear, but out of respect for him. He was always respectful of others and it was returned in kind.
So, the old Morris chair has special memories and meaning for me, as it reminds me of the head of our family, my father.
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
The Thing About Family.......
Growing up in a family which celebrates Christmas and the values of that Christian family helps to keep you centered in your life. I could compare it to the point on a child's toy - a spinning top. The balance of the top is in the point on which it spins. If that is toppled the top goes out of control, yet when it is righted again, it continues spinning. Our spiritual life keeps us spinning. Since we are imperfect beings our balance sometimes wavers, but being embedded into our conscience, it rights itself and we regain our momentum to continue our ingrained spinning.
The strongest earthly source of energy to keep us spinning is our family. The stronger the family ties, the smoother the spinning, and the weaker the ties, the more likely it is that the energy runs out. As the reader may surmise, I am an advocate for strong family ties.
Families begin with a vow of fidelity, a promise to love and stay together, no matter what forces may try to break the bond. If the people taking the vow understand what that means and say it sincerely they are more likely to keep their vows and make a strong family. It is this strong bond of family that is foremost in my mind today. Much has been written about what makes a family strong. One thing that glues us together is tradition of gathering for special events, year after year, and Christmas is one of those events we celebrate. Being alone on Christmas day after having years of being together as a family can be a very lonely time. We have to relive the past times to keep from feeling alone by phone calls, or texts or emails or inviting someone into our homes to enjoy the warmth of friendship.
Happily, I had half of my family here to spend the night and then on Christmas day we enjoyed our time together with meals, games, gift giving and also with those phone calls to the ones celebrating elsewhere. Families do grow and begin to include new family members as children marry and have their own families. Families grow and change but our inner source of energy remains because we have been centered with special experiences which are unique to our family.
Each family has a different story to tell, some may be similar but at the core of our being is the love of the family that energizes us and keeps us spinning through life. I hope your Christmas events included those happy times with family to keep you renewed and energized, if not, try to find someone to be your family and start building some memories to keep you centered through both happy and difficult times.
The strongest earthly source of energy to keep us spinning is our family. The stronger the family ties, the smoother the spinning, and the weaker the ties, the more likely it is that the energy runs out. As the reader may surmise, I am an advocate for strong family ties.
Families begin with a vow of fidelity, a promise to love and stay together, no matter what forces may try to break the bond. If the people taking the vow understand what that means and say it sincerely they are more likely to keep their vows and make a strong family. It is this strong bond of family that is foremost in my mind today. Much has been written about what makes a family strong. One thing that glues us together is tradition of gathering for special events, year after year, and Christmas is one of those events we celebrate. Being alone on Christmas day after having years of being together as a family can be a very lonely time. We have to relive the past times to keep from feeling alone by phone calls, or texts or emails or inviting someone into our homes to enjoy the warmth of friendship.
Happily, I had half of my family here to spend the night and then on Christmas day we enjoyed our time together with meals, games, gift giving and also with those phone calls to the ones celebrating elsewhere. Families do grow and begin to include new family members as children marry and have their own families. Families grow and change but our inner source of energy remains because we have been centered with special experiences which are unique to our family.
Each family has a different story to tell, some may be similar but at the core of our being is the love of the family that energizes us and keeps us spinning through life. I hope your Christmas events included those happy times with family to keep you renewed and energized, if not, try to find someone to be your family and start building some memories to keep you centered through both happy and difficult times.
Monday, December 17, 2012
In the Aftermath
It seems reasonable to say that every American and most of the world has heard of the carnage of Sandy Hook. No one who has knowledge of this unfathomable event can go unchanged. Everyone can relate to it at some level. We cannot imagine how those parents will continue to live out their lives after this horror has been inflicted upon them.
Some changes will come about as our conscience demands it. To live in a free society we must come to terms with more controls to protect the general public. Those who never do harm to others will have to accept new measures to assure that those who would do harm are hindered in their efforts.
Looking back to the years when I was in the classroom with six year children to guide, educate and supervise to keep safe, I remember the tactics used in our schools then. Back in the 1950's no thought was given to major disruptions. Our concerns centered on snow and icy roads, playground safety, transportation to and from schools, weather and supervising the washing of hands before eating.
In my first classroom we had no running water. I was adamant about the children washing their hands before eating. Most of the children brought their lunches in brown paper bags or they walked home for lunch. Some of their homes were in sight of the school, which was on a mountain top. Each day we had a ritual. I had brought a round metal pan to school and a large pitcher. I stood beside the pan and poured water over the little hands after they had soaped with a bar of ivory soap. In a modern version of this procedure, I stood outside the bathroom and if I suspected little hands had not been washed I asked that they be lifted so I could smell for soap. Sometimes a little boy who was suspect at the time would just turn and go back into the bathroom not waiting for me to check his hands. He knew the procedure and what he had to do.
When I was in a school with an intercom system we would receive a coded message from the office if there was a need for it. Our school was near a prison so we would occasionally have a prisoner on the loose. If we were outdoors someone would come out to tell us to come in. The most we had to fear was an irate parent who would storm in the building and head straight for the room of the intended target. This coded message was for every teacher to step out into the hallway and just stand by his/her door. This was a silent message that witnesses were all around and although I never saw an incident to prove the effectiveness of the method, it was said to work very well.
Later on, a sign was placed near the entrance stating that visitors must sign in at the school office. I think much more stringent measures are already at play in our schools. Since I last had a classroom in 1991, our world has become much smaller with instant viewing of events around the globe. We are much more informed and vigilant and less safe than we were thirty years ago.
During World War II, President Delano Roosevelt said that "All we have to fear is fear itself". I am not so sure that will hold true for 2012. It is all too real that there is much to fear today. There are some real measures that we can take to reduce the possibility of danger, but in reality, we cannot be sure that we will be safe. To over react to try to defend ourselves can have ugly consequences. Unfortunately we have seen the consequences of this over reaction played out in this latest unspeakable tragedy. No one wants to put it into words, but it is a true.
Some changes will come about as our conscience demands it. To live in a free society we must come to terms with more controls to protect the general public. Those who never do harm to others will have to accept new measures to assure that those who would do harm are hindered in their efforts.
Looking back to the years when I was in the classroom with six year children to guide, educate and supervise to keep safe, I remember the tactics used in our schools then. Back in the 1950's no thought was given to major disruptions. Our concerns centered on snow and icy roads, playground safety, transportation to and from schools, weather and supervising the washing of hands before eating.
In my first classroom we had no running water. I was adamant about the children washing their hands before eating. Most of the children brought their lunches in brown paper bags or they walked home for lunch. Some of their homes were in sight of the school, which was on a mountain top. Each day we had a ritual. I had brought a round metal pan to school and a large pitcher. I stood beside the pan and poured water over the little hands after they had soaped with a bar of ivory soap. In a modern version of this procedure, I stood outside the bathroom and if I suspected little hands had not been washed I asked that they be lifted so I could smell for soap. Sometimes a little boy who was suspect at the time would just turn and go back into the bathroom not waiting for me to check his hands. He knew the procedure and what he had to do.
When I was in a school with an intercom system we would receive a coded message from the office if there was a need for it. Our school was near a prison so we would occasionally have a prisoner on the loose. If we were outdoors someone would come out to tell us to come in. The most we had to fear was an irate parent who would storm in the building and head straight for the room of the intended target. This coded message was for every teacher to step out into the hallway and just stand by his/her door. This was a silent message that witnesses were all around and although I never saw an incident to prove the effectiveness of the method, it was said to work very well.
Later on, a sign was placed near the entrance stating that visitors must sign in at the school office. I think much more stringent measures are already at play in our schools. Since I last had a classroom in 1991, our world has become much smaller with instant viewing of events around the globe. We are much more informed and vigilant and less safe than we were thirty years ago.
During World War II, President Delano Roosevelt said that "All we have to fear is fear itself". I am not so sure that will hold true for 2012. It is all too real that there is much to fear today. There are some real measures that we can take to reduce the possibility of danger, but in reality, we cannot be sure that we will be safe. To over react to try to defend ourselves can have ugly consequences. Unfortunately we have seen the consequences of this over reaction played out in this latest unspeakable tragedy. No one wants to put it into words, but it is a true.
Friday, November 23, 2012
Expecting Chester
Things happen in life which are totally unexpected, but which are so appropriate at the time. We were sitting around our dining table, eight of our family including two guests, enjoying our Thanksgiving dinner. The subject of cats came up and my son made the astonishing statement that "when cats look at humans they do not see a human face, rather a cat image". This was hotly challenged by all at the table, but he did not back down as no one had proof either way.
When I announced that I was looking for a guard cat to keep the squirrels away from my plants, I set off a series of plans which ensured that I would indeed be the recipient of a manly, no nonsense one eared cat which had earned the reputation of school yard bully. His owner proclaimed he could protect my place from cats, dogs, deer and any other approaching animal.
That was exactly what I was looking for. I want a pet that can stay outside, find his own food and stave off marauding woods critters, which I now have in abundance. I can only imagine I will need to entice him with some treats and tidbits not found on the run, but that, I am willing to do.
In the back of my mind I wondered if there were any red flags fluttering about in our conversation, especially when his owner said "I'd pay someone to take him." But when you are blinded by desire you do not see those streaks of red. All I could feel was the hot heat of anger from the squirrels eating all of the fat buds on my Christmas Sasanqua on the west side of my house. The county extension service agent confirmed that squirrels indeed will eat the buds off winter blooming Sasanqua. I needed to act quickly before they discover the fat buds on my red Camellia on the east side of my house. I could not bear it if I could not see those beauties next month when nothing else was blooming here.
So, I feel a new era is upon me, in the reign of Chester, long awaited savior.
When I announced that I was looking for a guard cat to keep the squirrels away from my plants, I set off a series of plans which ensured that I would indeed be the recipient of a manly, no nonsense one eared cat which had earned the reputation of school yard bully. His owner proclaimed he could protect my place from cats, dogs, deer and any other approaching animal.
That was exactly what I was looking for. I want a pet that can stay outside, find his own food and stave off marauding woods critters, which I now have in abundance. I can only imagine I will need to entice him with some treats and tidbits not found on the run, but that, I am willing to do.
In the back of my mind I wondered if there were any red flags fluttering about in our conversation, especially when his owner said "I'd pay someone to take him." But when you are blinded by desire you do not see those streaks of red. All I could feel was the hot heat of anger from the squirrels eating all of the fat buds on my Christmas Sasanqua on the west side of my house. The county extension service agent confirmed that squirrels indeed will eat the buds off winter blooming Sasanqua. I needed to act quickly before they discover the fat buds on my red Camellia on the east side of my house. I could not bear it if I could not see those beauties next month when nothing else was blooming here.
So, I feel a new era is upon me, in the reign of Chester, long awaited savior.
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Where I Want to Be
Where Life Goes On
Exactly where I want to be, in the shelter of the
house
I helped build
Built to let the light stream in, through windows wide
and tall
To warm the earthen tile
Laid where the pattern yields angles and lines,
North, south, east and west
Where high stone walls
Climb up to meet the ceiling,
Easy steps curve gently to the upper room.
A balcony invites resting on the long, long, couch
A house with many places to stop and look and think
To lose oneself in silent thought and resist the urge
to move
Just rest, reflect on how it was
The last time you were here
Study the paintings on the wall
Paintings done so long ago
Of people, flowers, birds and things that lived in the
artists soul
Leave me here that I may be forever in this favored
place
Where life goes on if only in my mind
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Fall Feelings and Family Fellows
Before the sun was up, I was
Sleep had flown away
Ideas filled my head while I in
bed still lay
Of food like pumpkin pie and
stuffing and such
Thoughts came and left in frantic
rush
Of peach scent wafting
through the air
Yellow, dancing mesmerizing flames
Dominating the scene with fire
like games
While folks gathered together
for the ritual of fall
It is Thanksgiving after all
A time to go back to
grandmother’s house
To greet and meet and laugh
and talk
And perhaps to take a woods
path walk
Gather some colorful found
leaves along the way
To grace our table for the
day
We miss those no longer here
We may even shed a tear
Remembering those days gone
by
We never lose them you know
For in our hearts they live
and grow
While we are making ones anew
to
Carry forward to future times
that bind us
Forever to each other
To live again, another day
when future families
Come this way
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Autumn's Waning Gift
One of the pleasures of gardening isharvesting the fruits of your labor. On this cold cloudy day, after being up late to witness an historic event, the election of President Obama's second term of office, I went outside to gather what I could find in my slowly vanishing garden flowers. The picture shows what is left of the Cosmos, Stone Mt. daisies, Chrysanthemum pacificum, pink Rose, Lantana, Zinnias, Ageratum, wild honeysuckle and the blooms of a confused Azalea.
It won't be long before I will have an abundance of
red Camellias, and Christmas Sasanquas. They will actually begin to bloom in December. You may be sure that I will be clipping some of those blooms to bring inside also.
One plant which is turning a beautiful salmon color is the Mapleleaf Viburnum, I did not want to cut, as I am giving tender loving care the first winter for this new undergrowth tree.
I do not consider it cheating to bring in the wild honeysuckle along with my cultivated flowers. This vine has been pleasing me since I was a small child in the mountains of eastern Kentucky. We learned that we could not only enjoy its sweet scent, but also sip the nectar inside the bloom, much the same way the bees and butterflies helped themselves to it as part of their diet.
If you are living in a temperate zone, I challenge you to take a walk around with your clippers and see what you can find to bring indoors for an impromptu bouquet. It might just lift your spirits on a cloudy day.
Sunday, November 4, 2012
A Philosophy of Life
On this Sabbath day before departing to my own house of worship, I took my new revised version of the Bible and reread the 91st Psalm.
It sums up what the faithful has taken to his heart for his life's guide.
Psalm 91 - Assurance of God's Protection
You who live in the shelter of the Most High, who abide in the shadow of the Almighty,
will say to the Lord, "My refuge and my fortress;
my God, in whom I trust."
For He will deliver you from the snare of the fowler and from the deadly pestilence;
He will cover you with His pinions, and under His wings you will find refuge;
His faithfulness is a shield and buckler.
You will not fear the terror of the night, or the arrow that flies by day, or the pestilence that stalks in darkness, or the destruction that wastes at noonday.
A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you.
You will only look with your eyes and see the punishment of the wicked.
Because you have made the Lord your refuge, the Most High your dwelling place, no evil shall befall you, no scourge come near your tent
For He will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways.
On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone
You will tread on the lion and the adder, the young lion and the serpent you will trample under foot.
Those who love me, I will deliver; I will protect those who know my name.
When they call to me, I will answer them; I will be with them in trouble, I will rescue them and honor them.
With long life I will satisfy them, and show them my salvation.
In order to understand the symbolic wording of this Psalm, you need to think beyond the temporal things of this life. It is not a way of looking at life that comes instantly, rather over a life span of faithful living, of trusting in God's presence. I like the words "I will protect those who know my name". That is a deep idea.
This Psalm was read at the memorial service of William Craig Matthis, for it had great meaning for him in his lifelong reliance on God's presence in his life.
It sums up what the faithful has taken to his heart for his life's guide.
Psalm 91 - Assurance of God's Protection
You who live in the shelter of the Most High, who abide in the shadow of the Almighty,
will say to the Lord, "My refuge and my fortress;
my God, in whom I trust."
For He will deliver you from the snare of the fowler and from the deadly pestilence;
He will cover you with His pinions, and under His wings you will find refuge;
His faithfulness is a shield and buckler.
You will not fear the terror of the night, or the arrow that flies by day, or the pestilence that stalks in darkness, or the destruction that wastes at noonday.
A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you.
You will only look with your eyes and see the punishment of the wicked.
Because you have made the Lord your refuge, the Most High your dwelling place, no evil shall befall you, no scourge come near your tent
For He will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways.
On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone
You will tread on the lion and the adder, the young lion and the serpent you will trample under foot.
Those who love me, I will deliver; I will protect those who know my name.
When they call to me, I will answer them; I will be with them in trouble, I will rescue them and honor them.
With long life I will satisfy them, and show them my salvation.
In order to understand the symbolic wording of this Psalm, you need to think beyond the temporal things of this life. It is not a way of looking at life that comes instantly, rather over a life span of faithful living, of trusting in God's presence. I like the words "I will protect those who know my name". That is a deep idea.
This Psalm was read at the memorial service of William Craig Matthis, for it had great meaning for him in his lifelong reliance on God's presence in his life.
Monday, October 29, 2012
William Craig Matthis 1921 - 2012
We in our family have lost a beloved brother, father, grandfather and friend.
He lived a long and full life, starting in the small mountain town of Pineville, Kentucky. He was the fifth child in the family of Rose Gamp Matthis and Chester Craig Matthis.When he was five years old he was eager to read and ran constantly to his mother to ask her what words said. She said he taught himself to read as he had a curious and quick mind. He grew up in another location in a small mountain town called Gulston, Ky. The distinguishing feature of this area was a grocery store at a crossroads. Where Bill's family lived was in a large house surrounded by plenty of land for raising kids and cattle. At an early age he learned to milk the cows which my father kept, to sell milk to augment his income as a bookkeeper. There was a tennis court and a woods behind the house, plenty of room for exploring outdoors.
The family grew however, and they moved into the county seat of Harlan, Kentucky, where Bill and his siblings entered the Harlan Independent School System. As the years rolled by Bill wanted to get out and be independent. He had an agreement with his parents that when he had graduated from high school they would sign papers for him to join the army. Bill already had a talent for understanding engines and mechanical machines. When our mother wanted to find Bill she went to the Motor company not far away and looked in the window where she always saw him down on the floor helping and learning from the mechanics there.
When he did enter the United States Army Air Force, he signed up to learn airplane mechanics. Eventually he was sent to the China, Burma, India theater of war, during World War II. He lived in the jungles and salvaged airplane parts from downed planes. During this time he wrote to his mother and used a code they had worked out, to let her know where he was at each letter writing.
After the war he returned home to work on the large machines used to extract coal from the mines in Bell County, Kentucky where his brother Kenneth was the General Manager. He fell in love with, and married the sister of Kenneth's wife. His bride's name was Axie Belle Marsee. Bill and Axie had two daughters, Ann and Jane.
When the girls were in their teens, Bill and Axie went to live in Litchfield, Illinois where he continued to work on giant machines, in a large number of Coal Mines. In order to minimize travel time between the various mines he trained for a pilots license and flew himself where he needed to be. He and Axie found many new friends, in a new hobby of square dancing, as they traveled around with a dance group. He was a member of the Presbyterian church and served as Elder for many years, in The Parish of the Open Door.
Cancer took Axie, the love of his life and he slowly began to build a new life. He continued living in his home and was always finding ways to help his neighbors and also the farmers in the area who had large machinery needing maintenance. Bill was adventurous all of his live. At age 85 he went sky diving with a friend. He spent years helping his grandson Adam with scouting and other pursuits over the years. He went each year to the annual reunion of the Veterans of the China, Burna, India theater of war. An event he enjoyed as long as he was able.
We grieve for the presence of Bill. When a man has lived a productive life and served his God, his family, his country and his friends in positive ways, we remember him in positive ways, by honoring him with memories of who he was and what he did with his life.
His daughters and their families were with him when he passed on to another dimension, a journey he embraced with hope and courage. As a symbolic "bon voyage" they opened the window of his room so his spirit could fly away home. We can rest in the knowledge that his last journey will be as successful as all the others. God bless you Bill. The world is a better place because you of what you did to make it so.
Sunday, October 21, 2012
Martha Says: Use Vinegar
I hear about cooking ideas all the time and usually I just file the idea away and then it may come back to me later. Recently I stumbled upon Martha Stewart on television doing her online cooking class. She was showing different ways to cook eggs. She was using eggs grown on her estate and of course they were fresh and naturally fed via free range or organic food. One of the ideas hit me as worth trying, so I did. I share it now as it really does make the egg taste better cooked by her vinegar/boil method.
First she got a small pot of water up to a fast boil, then while boiling she added a little vinegar, then promptly cracked an egg into the boiling water. I have forgotten what chemical action caused it to happen but the white immediated began to gather itself into shape and in about three minutes it was removed with a slotted spoon and placed on a plate.
When I tried it , I had to have a couple of runs to get it right but even after the first try the egg white had a much improved taste. For about three cups of water I used almost 1/4 cup of white vinegar and let it boil about 2.1/2 minutes. My water comes from a deep well and I think has a much better taste than the common faucet water in a city.
For breakfast this morning I had cheese grits, the vinegar boil eggs and sliced mellow, green delicious apples. It was a fine breakfast and I choose not to have the yolks but I did taste them and they had a better flavor also. So, if you are tired of corn flakes you may like to try Martha's trick.
This vinegar method reminds me of the first time I had breakfast at my new husband's home. His mother also raised chickens for eggs and she prepared for my breakfast eggs cooked in hot bacon grease. They were delicious but I am not so sure about the health aspects of her method. I think Martha's way is far healthier. So, if you are a vegetarian or just aspire to eat healthier, I recommend the vinegar egg method, and it has definitely been tested and tried by me, as recently as this morning in October , the 21st.
First she got a small pot of water up to a fast boil, then while boiling she added a little vinegar, then promptly cracked an egg into the boiling water. I have forgotten what chemical action caused it to happen but the white immediated began to gather itself into shape and in about three minutes it was removed with a slotted spoon and placed on a plate.
When I tried it , I had to have a couple of runs to get it right but even after the first try the egg white had a much improved taste. For about three cups of water I used almost 1/4 cup of white vinegar and let it boil about 2.1/2 minutes. My water comes from a deep well and I think has a much better taste than the common faucet water in a city.
For breakfast this morning I had cheese grits, the vinegar boil eggs and sliced mellow, green delicious apples. It was a fine breakfast and I choose not to have the yolks but I did taste them and they had a better flavor also. So, if you are tired of corn flakes you may like to try Martha's trick.
This vinegar method reminds me of the first time I had breakfast at my new husband's home. His mother also raised chickens for eggs and she prepared for my breakfast eggs cooked in hot bacon grease. They were delicious but I am not so sure about the health aspects of her method. I think Martha's way is far healthier. So, if you are a vegetarian or just aspire to eat healthier, I recommend the vinegar egg method, and it has definitely been tested and tried by me, as recently as this morning in October , the 21st.
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Being Silly
Once when I was having a conversation with my daughter, she said to me, That is what I like about you Mom, you can let yourself act silly. That thought came to me one day when I was sitting in my doctor's office in the waiting room. I was looking at a magazine and there was an article about dressing up for Halloween. The question was asked, " What is the silliest thing you have ever worn on Halloween?"
At first I thought about the things my children and more recently what my grandchildren had worn. It took a few minutes for me to remember my own dressing up for this fall event for the fun of children. Then it hit me, I had dressed up! It was for an event with our faculty party. Some of us were putting on a skit about a fictional place called "The Lizard Lounge". I was asked to dress up as a bar maid for this so called Lounge and to be in costume as this was on Halloween. I had to scrounge around to find something sleazy and silly. I found something and because it was so out of character my husband took a picture of me. Luckily I had on a mask and hoped no one would recognize me.
Another time I pulled a silly stunt when I was in college. I played on the girls field hockey team. We had uniforms and they were short. One evening the girls were all hanging out in the dorm and one girl was cutting the hair of another friend. The floor was covered with hair. I asked if I could have the hair. They all thought I was crazy but gave it to me. I went back to my room, put on my field hockey uniform and some long hose. Then I proceeded to glue that hair all over my legs, all around.
Then I sauntered down the hall and casually walked into the room where my friends were hanging out. It caused quite an uproar ! They made so much noise it attracted the attention of all the other girls and we had the whole top floor of Burnham hall full of girls laughing and having a generally riotous good time. I cannot remember if the house mother heard us and came up. Mostly she ignored our noise unless there was screaming going on.
During the time that I grew up we did not go out on Halloween night. Possibly because we lived in the country and it was in the l930's and no one felt like being that frivolous then. My older siblings did have parties at our house and dancing took place. They would have parties to make fudge, then put the platter on the widow sill to cool. That was too much of a temptation for the younger kids and they frequently would slip by and snitch some of it.
Kids seem to like to play silly games. And I have known many grown-ups who had their moments. My mother was know to throw decorum out the window from time to time. One of my brothers-in-law would keep us younger kids entertained for hours with his witty songs. And what was Vaudeville about if not just plain being silly, and down right outrageous? Comedian Steve Martin had his arrow in his head routine, Jack Benny had his sideway look and Bill Cosby could really roll those eyes. I am willing to bet that every human being who walks this earth has at some time, done some really endearing and positively, absolutely silly things.
So, I declare that there is a place for being silly. Laughing is supposed to be good for us. Someone said it was like jogging on the inside. And the kids would prefer some to seeing a frown.
At first I thought about the things my children and more recently what my grandchildren had worn. It took a few minutes for me to remember my own dressing up for this fall event for the fun of children. Then it hit me, I had dressed up! It was for an event with our faculty party. Some of us were putting on a skit about a fictional place called "The Lizard Lounge". I was asked to dress up as a bar maid for this so called Lounge and to be in costume as this was on Halloween. I had to scrounge around to find something sleazy and silly. I found something and because it was so out of character my husband took a picture of me. Luckily I had on a mask and hoped no one would recognize me.Another time I pulled a silly stunt when I was in college. I played on the girls field hockey team. We had uniforms and they were short. One evening the girls were all hanging out in the dorm and one girl was cutting the hair of another friend. The floor was covered with hair. I asked if I could have the hair. They all thought I was crazy but gave it to me. I went back to my room, put on my field hockey uniform and some long hose. Then I proceeded to glue that hair all over my legs, all around.
Then I sauntered down the hall and casually walked into the room where my friends were hanging out. It caused quite an uproar ! They made so much noise it attracted the attention of all the other girls and we had the whole top floor of Burnham hall full of girls laughing and having a generally riotous good time. I cannot remember if the house mother heard us and came up. Mostly she ignored our noise unless there was screaming going on.
During the time that I grew up we did not go out on Halloween night. Possibly because we lived in the country and it was in the l930's and no one felt like being that frivolous then. My older siblings did have parties at our house and dancing took place. They would have parties to make fudge, then put the platter on the widow sill to cool. That was too much of a temptation for the younger kids and they frequently would slip by and snitch some of it.
Kids seem to like to play silly games. And I have known many grown-ups who had their moments. My mother was know to throw decorum out the window from time to time. One of my brothers-in-law would keep us younger kids entertained for hours with his witty songs. And what was Vaudeville about if not just plain being silly, and down right outrageous? Comedian Steve Martin had his arrow in his head routine, Jack Benny had his sideway look and Bill Cosby could really roll those eyes. I am willing to bet that every human being who walks this earth has at some time, done some really endearing and positively, absolutely silly things.
So, I declare that there is a place for being silly. Laughing is supposed to be good for us. Someone said it was like jogging on the inside. And the kids would prefer some to seeing a frown.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Keeping Your Cool
There are times in life when you are suddenly faced with a situation in which you are totally surprised and you have to think fast to right the situation. This thought came into my mind today and I do not know why, but it was triggered by an incident which happened around 1970.
The place was Mercer College where I was taking a class required for accreditation to teach in the state of Georgia. The class was how to teach Social Studies to young children. On this day I was teaching a lesson with children who were all new to me. They had been selected for the demonstration and we were in a large room with an audience of other students and our professor. The demonstration was being video taped.
The lesson was on Wants and Needs. I was setting up the idea of what things a family might want and things they really needed. I described this large family of around eight children and where they lived, etc. Then I asked the question. What things do you think this family might need?
I looked around at the children and waited for a response. Then one little voice piped up with, "a new baby". The audience began laughing. I could not laugh! I had to think fast of how to turn this around. I cannot now remember how I got the lesson back on track, but I did get an A for that class.
I call myself a slow reactor. Of course in some cases you would be toast if you did not physically react very quickly but in other ways I think about the situation before getting in any deeper. One example of that, and I am not proud of the way I handled this, was when my husband proposed marriage. I simply got up from my seat and said, "I need to go home now". I was totally unprepared for the question and any further discussion I could not handle. We had been dating for three months and marriage was one thing I had not expected to be in my plans. My big plan was to finish college.
Eventually I did marry this veteran of World War II, and one of the deciding factors was his wisdom. One day I was playing tennis on campus. He was a student there and had a part time job taking care of the tennis courts. I was sitting on the grass taking a break. He came over to chat with me and a fellow student came over to join us. The fellow student was no stranger to me so he proceeded to ask me to go on a Saturday night hay ride that one of his clubs was sponsoring. I already had a "sort of" date with the grounds keeper. I was put on the spot, so he, (my future husband) realizing my dilemma quickly spoke up and said "Why don't you go, it would be fun". So, having been saved from an embarrassing situation, I accepted his invitation. The young man who invited me never knew what had just transpired. But I saw that this quick thinking young man with the cool head was a worthy friend.
Analyzing a situation before making a decision, or before responding is a good quality, and amounts to what I call, keeping your cool.
The book of Proverbs is full of pithy sayings and one of them applies to this situation. Chapter 13:2, a "The tongue of the wise useth knowledge aright.." Another one I like is Ch. 15: a " a soft answer turneth away wrath". Another example, Ch15: 7 a "The lips of the wise disperse knowledge".
Life is full of moments when decisions for survival take quick action, whereas responding with words can have an entirely different consequence. Many of the crime programs on television would be non existent if the actors had to respond with a soft answer. Emotions can get in the way and blot out placid responses. It is not easy to keep your cool when a heated discussion is taking place. I know that Abraham Lincoln read his Bible a lot, in fact he used it to learn to read, having few other books at his disposal. He was known to have a cool head and he held his counsel in so many situations. He was also a great story teller having learned that from his father. He was once insulted when a man said he was common looking. His response was, " I suppose the good Lord liked common people as he made so many of us". How can one fight when they get a response like that?
The place was Mercer College where I was taking a class required for accreditation to teach in the state of Georgia. The class was how to teach Social Studies to young children. On this day I was teaching a lesson with children who were all new to me. They had been selected for the demonstration and we were in a large room with an audience of other students and our professor. The demonstration was being video taped.
The lesson was on Wants and Needs. I was setting up the idea of what things a family might want and things they really needed. I described this large family of around eight children and where they lived, etc. Then I asked the question. What things do you think this family might need?
I looked around at the children and waited for a response. Then one little voice piped up with, "a new baby". The audience began laughing. I could not laugh! I had to think fast of how to turn this around. I cannot now remember how I got the lesson back on track, but I did get an A for that class.
I call myself a slow reactor. Of course in some cases you would be toast if you did not physically react very quickly but in other ways I think about the situation before getting in any deeper. One example of that, and I am not proud of the way I handled this, was when my husband proposed marriage. I simply got up from my seat and said, "I need to go home now". I was totally unprepared for the question and any further discussion I could not handle. We had been dating for three months and marriage was one thing I had not expected to be in my plans. My big plan was to finish college.
Eventually I did marry this veteran of World War II, and one of the deciding factors was his wisdom. One day I was playing tennis on campus. He was a student there and had a part time job taking care of the tennis courts. I was sitting on the grass taking a break. He came over to chat with me and a fellow student came over to join us. The fellow student was no stranger to me so he proceeded to ask me to go on a Saturday night hay ride that one of his clubs was sponsoring. I already had a "sort of" date with the grounds keeper. I was put on the spot, so he, (my future husband) realizing my dilemma quickly spoke up and said "Why don't you go, it would be fun". So, having been saved from an embarrassing situation, I accepted his invitation. The young man who invited me never knew what had just transpired. But I saw that this quick thinking young man with the cool head was a worthy friend.
Analyzing a situation before making a decision, or before responding is a good quality, and amounts to what I call, keeping your cool.
The book of Proverbs is full of pithy sayings and one of them applies to this situation. Chapter 13:2, a "The tongue of the wise useth knowledge aright.." Another one I like is Ch. 15: a " a soft answer turneth away wrath". Another example, Ch15: 7 a "The lips of the wise disperse knowledge".
Life is full of moments when decisions for survival take quick action, whereas responding with words can have an entirely different consequence. Many of the crime programs on television would be non existent if the actors had to respond with a soft answer. Emotions can get in the way and blot out placid responses. It is not easy to keep your cool when a heated discussion is taking place. I know that Abraham Lincoln read his Bible a lot, in fact he used it to learn to read, having few other books at his disposal. He was known to have a cool head and he held his counsel in so many situations. He was also a great story teller having learned that from his father. He was once insulted when a man said he was common looking. His response was, " I suppose the good Lord liked common people as he made so many of us". How can one fight when they get a response like that?
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Learning From Children
Two interests have dominated my life, teaching and writing. I came into each from the back door. When I was a young college student I ran from teaching, literally. I left my home state and traveled by train to Texas to live on Rodd Field in Corpus Christi, all to escape taking a job teaching, much as Jonah fled God's command. I would never compare my situation to the minor prophet Jonah, rather to say I tried to escape my real calling as did Jonah. Eventually I made my way back to college to finish my studies and yes, to become a teacher. Jonah had a more exciting journey on board a ship heading for Tarshish, but eventually he too made his way to Ninevah to preach to the people there. The whole story of Jonah is told in the book of Jonah in the old testament of the Bible.
Once I began my first job of teaching I found it to be the most exciting and rewarding job I could ever have found. Working with young children is very stimulating and the opportunities for creativity are endless. The young children I had in my first class back in 1949, were so eager to learn and so compliant with my instruction that it made each day a new adventure. After four years teaching in the Applachian mountains of Kentucky, I went with my husband to the eastern shore of Maryland to live. After my own little family was up and going I returned to classroom teaching and that brings me to the point of this writing.
In one of my classes in Severna Park, Maryland, near the town of Annapolis, one of my students was a little girl named Tammy Lynn. The year was 1968. Tammy's father was a scientist and he traveled the oceans. When he returned from one of his trips he brought back a jar of water, which Tammy brought to school for show and tell. This was no ordinary jar of water. It had been scooped up from the Sargasso Sea in the region of calms in the north Atlantic, northeast of the West Indies. It is noted for its abundance of sargassum. The sargassum is a brown seaweed found there, thus the name of the sea. This seaweed has flattened, leaflike outgrowths and special branches with berry-like air sacks which float on the water.
I had never heard of the Sargasso sea. We all learned that day from Tammy in show and tell. Tammy had a talented older sister named Jo. Jo was very creative and she made something for Tammy to give me at Christmas. It was a clipboard with one of Jo's creative designs on the back. I have kept it all these years and I treasure it for itself and for reminding me of how even a little child shall lead them.
I now will take a big leap into writing, though I came into it gradually. I have always had a penchant for writing. When I was a fourth grader my teacher wrote across the top of my creative writing efforts "what an imagination". I suppose you could take that two ways, but it is my earliest memory of writing. The second one was when I was asked to write the prophecy of our senior class. No doubt I got very creative with that also, but I do not have a copy to prove or disprove it.
When I was married at the age of 23, I began keeping a journal. I kept an account of our spending as we had to make our salary as teachers last for a month at a time. Later on I kept a journal when my children were born and it has great gaps in it as children have a way of keeping you too busy to do much writing.
In graduate school I took a class in children's literature and did some writing in that class which was designed to make you research facts for your writing. I wrote a story I called Boston Ruby about Revolutionary Times.
Later when I was teaching in Georgia I took a class in writing for children at Emory in an evening class. My students were also writers, as early as January in their first year. So writing has become a part of my life. At the present time I am in the northeast Georgia Writers Group and this has been an impetus for even more writing.
To get back to the learning connection, teaching and writing, I am now in a group writing effort in fiction. Fiction is not my first love and I have had to switch my thinking in this collaborative effort. In the story a couple were ordering lunch and they were in a restaurant called the Vortex, which has implications for the plot in the story. It was my turn in the story and I had the man order lunch for them both. He was having a big burger so I had him order from the menu "hero tornado" and for the lady Sargasso soup. The names were used as descriptions for the role of the characters, or the role as I see it at this point of the story. It is a fun effort and in no way is it intended to be the epic novel of 2012.
So, learning about the Sargasso sea in 1968 from one of my young students has come back to find a place in 2012 in a contemporary story. Childen are teachers even when they are just being themselves. Back in 1949 I was in a volunteer group of teachers for a child study program. We each selected a student in our class to study via anecdotal notes. The purpose, though unspoken was designed to make us more observant of our students and to better understand their behavior. It was sponsored by the Child Development Group at the University of Maryland. It was one of the most helpful efforts in my after college years.
Never discount children as teachers . They may make you laugh, or want to cry. They can teach us many things and can do it in many different ways. They are very truthful and forgiving and also the future of our world.
Once I began my first job of teaching I found it to be the most exciting and rewarding job I could ever have found. Working with young children is very stimulating and the opportunities for creativity are endless. The young children I had in my first class back in 1949, were so eager to learn and so compliant with my instruction that it made each day a new adventure. After four years teaching in the Applachian mountains of Kentucky, I went with my husband to the eastern shore of Maryland to live. After my own little family was up and going I returned to classroom teaching and that brings me to the point of this writing.
In one of my classes in Severna Park, Maryland, near the town of Annapolis, one of my students was a little girl named Tammy Lynn. The year was 1968. Tammy's father was a scientist and he traveled the oceans. When he returned from one of his trips he brought back a jar of water, which Tammy brought to school for show and tell. This was no ordinary jar of water. It had been scooped up from the Sargasso Sea in the region of calms in the north Atlantic, northeast of the West Indies. It is noted for its abundance of sargassum. The sargassum is a brown seaweed found there, thus the name of the sea. This seaweed has flattened, leaflike outgrowths and special branches with berry-like air sacks which float on the water.
I had never heard of the Sargasso sea. We all learned that day from Tammy in show and tell. Tammy had a talented older sister named Jo. Jo was very creative and she made something for Tammy to give me at Christmas. It was a clipboard with one of Jo's creative designs on the back. I have kept it all these years and I treasure it for itself and for reminding me of how even a little child shall lead them.I now will take a big leap into writing, though I came into it gradually. I have always had a penchant for writing. When I was a fourth grader my teacher wrote across the top of my creative writing efforts "what an imagination". I suppose you could take that two ways, but it is my earliest memory of writing. The second one was when I was asked to write the prophecy of our senior class. No doubt I got very creative with that also, but I do not have a copy to prove or disprove it.
When I was married at the age of 23, I began keeping a journal. I kept an account of our spending as we had to make our salary as teachers last for a month at a time. Later on I kept a journal when my children were born and it has great gaps in it as children have a way of keeping you too busy to do much writing.
In graduate school I took a class in children's literature and did some writing in that class which was designed to make you research facts for your writing. I wrote a story I called Boston Ruby about Revolutionary Times.
Later when I was teaching in Georgia I took a class in writing for children at Emory in an evening class. My students were also writers, as early as January in their first year. So writing has become a part of my life. At the present time I am in the northeast Georgia Writers Group and this has been an impetus for even more writing.
To get back to the learning connection, teaching and writing, I am now in a group writing effort in fiction. Fiction is not my first love and I have had to switch my thinking in this collaborative effort. In the story a couple were ordering lunch and they were in a restaurant called the Vortex, which has implications for the plot in the story. It was my turn in the story and I had the man order lunch for them both. He was having a big burger so I had him order from the menu "hero tornado" and for the lady Sargasso soup. The names were used as descriptions for the role of the characters, or the role as I see it at this point of the story. It is a fun effort and in no way is it intended to be the epic novel of 2012.
So, learning about the Sargasso sea in 1968 from one of my young students has come back to find a place in 2012 in a contemporary story. Childen are teachers even when they are just being themselves. Back in 1949 I was in a volunteer group of teachers for a child study program. We each selected a student in our class to study via anecdotal notes. The purpose, though unspoken was designed to make us more observant of our students and to better understand their behavior. It was sponsored by the Child Development Group at the University of Maryland. It was one of the most helpful efforts in my after college years.
Never discount children as teachers . They may make you laugh, or want to cry. They can teach us many things and can do it in many different ways. They are very truthful and forgiving and also the future of our world.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Split Second Decisions
All day long we make quick decisions in the bat of an eye, and most of them are of no consequence so we give it no lingering thought. There are times however, when they can mean life or death.
I well remember an incident long ago in Ky. Most of us who travel where the roads hug the mountains can remember seeing signs saying "falling rock area". The incident I remember was told by the survivors in an accident on one of those roads in Kentucky. A family with a baby was traveling in such an area when the passenger in the front seat handed a baby to someone in the back seat. Just as she had handed the baby over and turned around a huge falling rock landed on her spot in the car. The blow ended her life and wrecked the car. No one else was seriously injured. Had she not handed the baby to the back she too would have been killed. Who knows what prompted her to transfer the baby to the back, it is a mystery. But it happened in a split second, when they were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and she had no knowledge of the rock hurtling toward her.
There must be millions of occasions when a split second has made all the difference, for good or for worse. It only takes a second to say "I do", but just think of all the people who have said it and lived to regret it! On the other hand there are just as many who never think of it so much as the consequence was for good.
Many split decisions are simply survival reactions. Once when my second grandson was around three I took him to a park nearby. This is a very pleasant place to go as it has a nice playground for youngsters and a long paved walking loop for adults. Also in a farm next to the park you can observe many Emus walking about. We had left the playground and were walking on the paved walk toward the Emu farm when suddenly out of seemingly no where, a vicious dog came speeding toward us. Without even thinking about it I picked up my grandson and turned my back to the oncoming dog. He lunged and caught me from the back, tearing my clothes and bruising my skin. Of course I was screaming for help and a man came from his house next to the park and retrieved his dog. I quickly left the park and headed home to call the sheriff and report the incident. A second before the dog appeared snarling and threatening, I had no thoughts of picking up my grandson and whirling away from the oncoming dog. It was a survival decision.
Another survival decision may or may not have made all the difference in an accident in 1970 one December day. My husband was traveling back home from a business trip in south Georgia. He was traveling west on a small concrete bridge with space only for two cars and a concrete railing. From the opposite direction came a flatbed truck with a tractor on the back. We know from witness behind my husband's car, that the truck was speeding and blew a tire causing the driver to lose control of his truck. The tractor bumped up as to fall over and then settled back down. Immediately it bumped again and this time fell onto the approaching car. Witnesses say they saw the brake lights come on just before the tractor fell. This leads me to believe that my husband was making a split decision to stop and hope to avoid the falling tractor. Would it have made a difference if he had sped up and gotten past the place of impact? Who knows? There is no way of knowing, but it was a survival decision.
There is no way to know if speeding up or slowing down would have saved his life, perhaps it did not matter as it may have happened anyway. What we do know is the impact his leaving has had on his family. I have always heard that in a vehicle accident both drivers are at fault. I do not believe that. The previous story is an example of one driver being an innocent victim. I have another one which happened back in 2007 on April Fools day, but this was no trick.
On a drizzly day around 12:30 I was traveling west on highway 369 heading for home and in no hurry. Suddenly there was a black blur in front of me. My air bag deployed and the car was filled with powder. I could not breath, I was struggling to get out when a lady came and started helping. What was the black blur? It was a car coming from the opposite direction. He had rounded a curve too fast, lost control and over corrected causing him to cut right in front of me. I survived thanks to the expertise of the medical staff and surgeons at Northeast Georgia Medical Center. And I must say also to the love and care of my family, over a long period of time. How could that accident have been my fault?
I once heard a wise man say that when he got behind the wheel of his car his only thought was to drive safely and arrive safely. I like that. But even when you do just that, you may still be a victim of a split second decision or of a careless, thoughtless deed. Our legislators are always working on laws to make citizens safe. It may not be perfect but at times we need laws to discourage careless acts when our cars are out in heavy traffic. I do not see how we can legislate wise split second decisions. That is part of life.
I well remember an incident long ago in Ky. Most of us who travel where the roads hug the mountains can remember seeing signs saying "falling rock area". The incident I remember was told by the survivors in an accident on one of those roads in Kentucky. A family with a baby was traveling in such an area when the passenger in the front seat handed a baby to someone in the back seat. Just as she had handed the baby over and turned around a huge falling rock landed on her spot in the car. The blow ended her life and wrecked the car. No one else was seriously injured. Had she not handed the baby to the back she too would have been killed. Who knows what prompted her to transfer the baby to the back, it is a mystery. But it happened in a split second, when they were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and she had no knowledge of the rock hurtling toward her.
There must be millions of occasions when a split second has made all the difference, for good or for worse. It only takes a second to say "I do", but just think of all the people who have said it and lived to regret it! On the other hand there are just as many who never think of it so much as the consequence was for good.
Many split decisions are simply survival reactions. Once when my second grandson was around three I took him to a park nearby. This is a very pleasant place to go as it has a nice playground for youngsters and a long paved walking loop for adults. Also in a farm next to the park you can observe many Emus walking about. We had left the playground and were walking on the paved walk toward the Emu farm when suddenly out of seemingly no where, a vicious dog came speeding toward us. Without even thinking about it I picked up my grandson and turned my back to the oncoming dog. He lunged and caught me from the back, tearing my clothes and bruising my skin. Of course I was screaming for help and a man came from his house next to the park and retrieved his dog. I quickly left the park and headed home to call the sheriff and report the incident. A second before the dog appeared snarling and threatening, I had no thoughts of picking up my grandson and whirling away from the oncoming dog. It was a survival decision.
Another survival decision may or may not have made all the difference in an accident in 1970 one December day. My husband was traveling back home from a business trip in south Georgia. He was traveling west on a small concrete bridge with space only for two cars and a concrete railing. From the opposite direction came a flatbed truck with a tractor on the back. We know from witness behind my husband's car, that the truck was speeding and blew a tire causing the driver to lose control of his truck. The tractor bumped up as to fall over and then settled back down. Immediately it bumped again and this time fell onto the approaching car. Witnesses say they saw the brake lights come on just before the tractor fell. This leads me to believe that my husband was making a split decision to stop and hope to avoid the falling tractor. Would it have made a difference if he had sped up and gotten past the place of impact? Who knows? There is no way of knowing, but it was a survival decision.
There is no way to know if speeding up or slowing down would have saved his life, perhaps it did not matter as it may have happened anyway. What we do know is the impact his leaving has had on his family. I have always heard that in a vehicle accident both drivers are at fault. I do not believe that. The previous story is an example of one driver being an innocent victim. I have another one which happened back in 2007 on April Fools day, but this was no trick.
On a drizzly day around 12:30 I was traveling west on highway 369 heading for home and in no hurry. Suddenly there was a black blur in front of me. My air bag deployed and the car was filled with powder. I could not breath, I was struggling to get out when a lady came and started helping. What was the black blur? It was a car coming from the opposite direction. He had rounded a curve too fast, lost control and over corrected causing him to cut right in front of me. I survived thanks to the expertise of the medical staff and surgeons at Northeast Georgia Medical Center. And I must say also to the love and care of my family, over a long period of time. How could that accident have been my fault?
I once heard a wise man say that when he got behind the wheel of his car his only thought was to drive safely and arrive safely. I like that. But even when you do just that, you may still be a victim of a split second decision or of a careless, thoughtless deed. Our legislators are always working on laws to make citizens safe. It may not be perfect but at times we need laws to discourage careless acts when our cars are out in heavy traffic. I do not see how we can legislate wise split second decisions. That is part of life.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Highway Hazards
Today as I leisurely drove home from a trip into town I noted the speed sign, signaled a left turn and went into the left lane. Something about that simple act triggered a flashback.
It was 1959 or 60. I was driving down four lane, Ritchie Highway in Glen Burnie, Maryland. This was in the days before seat belts and car seats for kids. My children, five and three, were seated beside me on the passenger seat. I was driving in the right hand outer lane with a car on my left, and a strip mall was on my right. Suddenly the car on my left did a fast turn in front of me and went into the strip mall. As I jammed on my brakes, I threw my right arm out to protect my children. I was so shocked by the irresponsible driver that I pulled in beside him, stepped out of my car and began screaming at him. "You could have caused me to kill my children"! I think I repeated it a few times, then got back into the car to calm down before continuing my trip.
It is amazing that there are not more car accidents than we now have. Back in the mountains of Kentucky, where I grew up, it was a common event to get behind a big coal truck loaded down with coal and traveling in front of you, over the mountain. At that time when drivers went over the mountain at night it was common practice to blink your bright lights as you approached a curve. This was for your protection as well as for any oncoming traffic on the other side of the curve, which was hidden by the mountain. I did not drive at that time. Our family had one car and it belonged to my father, who used it for work. The older boys had no car until they went to work to earn money to buy their own. There was always an uncertain time element involved when crossing a mountain. If you got behind a coal truck you just had to be patient as they could not quickly shift gears and make any speed when traveling up or down the mountain. The reality was, if you left our little town you had to go over a mountain!
When I was a young bride my husband did all of the driving as I had not yet learned that skill. One winter we were going over White mountain returning home from a visit into West Virginia. The weather was bad and we both had to get home, after the holidays for our teaching jobs. When a road became hazardous the State Patrol would close the road and you simply had to turn around and go back. On that day our car was the last one to cross over into Kentucky. We were young and foolish and the good Lord was surely looking after us. As my husband gripped the steering wheel, I gripped the door handle, all ready to jump out should we start sliding over the mountain. No doubt at that point I was only concentrating on my own safety! We did make it safely home but we learned to plan more carefully on future trips. But remember that we did not have the advantage of weather reports in the late 1940's. You found out what the weather was like when you looked out the window in the morning.
My mother never learned to drive. She was adventurous enough to try at least once to see if she could handle it. It was my father who could not handle it! My oldest sister Katrine, did drive, so my father must have taught her. It fell to her to give my mother her first and only driving lesson. I was a new baby, wrapped in blankets and lying on the back seat of my dad's Ford Model T, on that fateful day. My father's side job was selling milk from his cows. He had a milk truck which my brothers used for deliveries, but for some reason the back floor of the old Ford Model T was covered with empty milk bottles.
I suppose all was going well until my mother got excited and jammed on the brakes. Well, you can guess what happened to me in the back seat when the force of stopping so fast, dislodged me from my resting place and onto the empty milk bottles. I did have a good set of lungs and I used them! That was when the lesson came to an end. Of course my mother had to tell my father what had happened. His reaction had the intended effect. He said not a word to my mother - for four days!
About six years later when baby number eight was around four years old, he was traveling with my third oldest brother on a milk delivery. They had stopped at the commissary to confer with my father about the delivery. The truck was parked facing the edge of a small precipice above a creek. My older brother went into my father's office to ask about the delivery and left my four year old brother in the back of the truck. If he had stayed in the back there would be no story. But it is difficult for a curious four year old to ignore all of those interesting gadgets on the dashboard. So, over the seat he scrambled and began to play drive. Drive he did, forward over the bank and into the creek. The bad part was that in the back were several large metal milk cans filled with milk, one with buttermilk. Of course you can imagine what happened when the caps came off the cans! I suppose my older brother received his punishment in triplicate as he had to clean up the car.
My driving stories would not be complete if I did not tell about me taking my daughter to Stone Mountain State Park in 1970. It was not crowded during the week back then and was a good safe place to learn to drive. All went well until we left the park at the end of the lesson. She drove through the open gates past the guard house and right over the mailbox, knocking it down. She was driving a large car which I had recently bought and it did a good job on the mailbox. I went to the guard and explained, offering to pay for a new mailbox. From his answer I gathered that it was not the first time the mail box took a hit. He said, "Oh don't worry about it."
Looking back at the incident on Ritchie highway, I guess road rage is nothing new, even if it is justified. It remains one of the hazards of driving.
It was 1959 or 60. I was driving down four lane, Ritchie Highway in Glen Burnie, Maryland. This was in the days before seat belts and car seats for kids. My children, five and three, were seated beside me on the passenger seat. I was driving in the right hand outer lane with a car on my left, and a strip mall was on my right. Suddenly the car on my left did a fast turn in front of me and went into the strip mall. As I jammed on my brakes, I threw my right arm out to protect my children. I was so shocked by the irresponsible driver that I pulled in beside him, stepped out of my car and began screaming at him. "You could have caused me to kill my children"! I think I repeated it a few times, then got back into the car to calm down before continuing my trip.
It is amazing that there are not more car accidents than we now have. Back in the mountains of Kentucky, where I grew up, it was a common event to get behind a big coal truck loaded down with coal and traveling in front of you, over the mountain. At that time when drivers went over the mountain at night it was common practice to blink your bright lights as you approached a curve. This was for your protection as well as for any oncoming traffic on the other side of the curve, which was hidden by the mountain. I did not drive at that time. Our family had one car and it belonged to my father, who used it for work. The older boys had no car until they went to work to earn money to buy their own. There was always an uncertain time element involved when crossing a mountain. If you got behind a coal truck you just had to be patient as they could not quickly shift gears and make any speed when traveling up or down the mountain. The reality was, if you left our little town you had to go over a mountain!
When I was a young bride my husband did all of the driving as I had not yet learned that skill. One winter we were going over White mountain returning home from a visit into West Virginia. The weather was bad and we both had to get home, after the holidays for our teaching jobs. When a road became hazardous the State Patrol would close the road and you simply had to turn around and go back. On that day our car was the last one to cross over into Kentucky. We were young and foolish and the good Lord was surely looking after us. As my husband gripped the steering wheel, I gripped the door handle, all ready to jump out should we start sliding over the mountain. No doubt at that point I was only concentrating on my own safety! We did make it safely home but we learned to plan more carefully on future trips. But remember that we did not have the advantage of weather reports in the late 1940's. You found out what the weather was like when you looked out the window in the morning.
My mother never learned to drive. She was adventurous enough to try at least once to see if she could handle it. It was my father who could not handle it! My oldest sister Katrine, did drive, so my father must have taught her. It fell to her to give my mother her first and only driving lesson. I was a new baby, wrapped in blankets and lying on the back seat of my dad's Ford Model T, on that fateful day. My father's side job was selling milk from his cows. He had a milk truck which my brothers used for deliveries, but for some reason the back floor of the old Ford Model T was covered with empty milk bottles.
I suppose all was going well until my mother got excited and jammed on the brakes. Well, you can guess what happened to me in the back seat when the force of stopping so fast, dislodged me from my resting place and onto the empty milk bottles. I did have a good set of lungs and I used them! That was when the lesson came to an end. Of course my mother had to tell my father what had happened. His reaction had the intended effect. He said not a word to my mother - for four days!
About six years later when baby number eight was around four years old, he was traveling with my third oldest brother on a milk delivery. They had stopped at the commissary to confer with my father about the delivery. The truck was parked facing the edge of a small precipice above a creek. My older brother went into my father's office to ask about the delivery and left my four year old brother in the back of the truck. If he had stayed in the back there would be no story. But it is difficult for a curious four year old to ignore all of those interesting gadgets on the dashboard. So, over the seat he scrambled and began to play drive. Drive he did, forward over the bank and into the creek. The bad part was that in the back were several large metal milk cans filled with milk, one with buttermilk. Of course you can imagine what happened when the caps came off the cans! I suppose my older brother received his punishment in triplicate as he had to clean up the car.
My driving stories would not be complete if I did not tell about me taking my daughter to Stone Mountain State Park in 1970. It was not crowded during the week back then and was a good safe place to learn to drive. All went well until we left the park at the end of the lesson. She drove through the open gates past the guard house and right over the mailbox, knocking it down. She was driving a large car which I had recently bought and it did a good job on the mailbox. I went to the guard and explained, offering to pay for a new mailbox. From his answer I gathered that it was not the first time the mail box took a hit. He said, "Oh don't worry about it."
Looking back at the incident on Ritchie highway, I guess road rage is nothing new, even if it is justified. It remains one of the hazards of driving.
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Not Antique, Just Treasured
The Antique Roadshow on public television is probably the most viewed of all the shows on television. When some people come to the roadshow they are rewarded by being told that the item they had purchased because they liked it, is of really great monetary value. I often wonder how many of those people try to capitalize on this new gained knowledge by selling their treasure for profit. Quite often it is a relic which has some significance to their family and they say they will not be selling it. At some point in the future someone else in the family who inherits it may feel differently and be happy to sell the once treasured item.
I have many family connected items which I would never want to exchange for cash. One such thing is an oak doll bed which is around eighty years old. My father had a carpenter make it for me when I was a little girl. My mother held onto it for years and when I established a home of my own, I took it under my roof. Since my first child was a girl, it got some use from her when she was in the doll playing stage. My son had no interest in it when he came along.
Then when my son and daughter came of age to have children and did, the three turned out to be boys, so my grandsons did not make use of the old, oak bed. Before my first grandson came along I gave the bed to my daugher in case she had a daughter. She made some bed covers for it and it sat like that for a long time. This picture shows it all gussied up and sitting among the boy toys.
It must have been put aside for storage and probably forgotten. Then one day my daughter was backing out of her garage and noticed a stack of things which had been set out for garbage collection. Right on the top was the old oak doll bed. She stopped her car, got out, and rescued it from sure destruction. Shortly thereafter she gave it back to me since he expected no little girls to play with it.
It eventually made its way back to me, the original owner and it has been sitting in a rarely used bedroom for at least twenty years. I kept meaning to have the loose leg repaired but as you can see from this picture it has not happened. However that changed. I really had forgotten about it being up there with the broken leg, until a crew of installers came to my house this month. Having workers in your house calls for some rearranging when new windows are being put in all over the house. As I moved some things out of the way I saw this doll bed and brought it down, hoping that someone with a hammer and a willing heart would take pity and repair it.
Just as I had hoped my son-in-aw saw it ( out in full view) and it reminded him that he had said he would repair it "some day". And he did repair it. It is not meant for a one hundred pound dolly, but otherwise is very usable.
This act of kindness on his part was all I needed to motivate me to start sewing on some bed covers for this little doll bed.
I have many family connected items which I would never want to exchange for cash. One such thing is an oak doll bed which is around eighty years old. My father had a carpenter make it for me when I was a little girl. My mother held onto it for years and when I established a home of my own, I took it under my roof. Since my first child was a girl, it got some use from her when she was in the doll playing stage. My son had no interest in it when he came along.
Then when my son and daughter came of age to have children and did, the three turned out to be boys, so my grandsons did not make use of the old, oak bed. Before my first grandson came along I gave the bed to my daugher in case she had a daughter. She made some bed covers for it and it sat like that for a long time. This picture shows it all gussied up and sitting among the boy toys.
It must have been put aside for storage and probably forgotten. Then one day my daughter was backing out of her garage and noticed a stack of things which had been set out for garbage collection. Right on the top was the old oak doll bed. She stopped her car, got out, and rescued it from sure destruction. Shortly thereafter she gave it back to me since he expected no little girls to play with it.
It eventually made its way back to me, the original owner and it has been sitting in a rarely used bedroom for at least twenty years. I kept meaning to have the loose leg repaired but as you can see from this picture it has not happened. However that changed. I really had forgotten about it being up there with the broken leg, until a crew of installers came to my house this month. Having workers in your house calls for some rearranging when new windows are being put in all over the house. As I moved some things out of the way I saw this doll bed and brought it down, hoping that someone with a hammer and a willing heart would take pity and repair it.
Just as I had hoped my son-in-aw saw it ( out in full view) and it reminded him that he had said he would repair it "some day". And he did repair it. It is not meant for a one hundred pound dolly, but otherwise is very usable.
This act of kindness on his part was all I needed to motivate me to start sewing on some bed covers for this little doll bed.
How We Used to Deal With Stress
My niece, who lives in Arizona sent me an email with a lot of pictures about "how it used to be over fifty years ago". One showed a swing on a porch and people grouped around (and in) it. It was a very relaxed scene.
In the 1930's we had a very long swing on our front porch. This swing was painted green. A lot of us could safely sit in it and swing or just sit and talk. Having a swing like that was a real stress reliever. You could swing it out or talk it out. That is only of the things that I believe accounts for us in that time, to not need pills to regulate our stress levels. In fact it was not known that such things were in existence, if in fact they were.
Television had not been invented, and in some homes, no radios, we were forced to find our own entertainment with board games and made up games. We did not have a lot of free time on our hands as everyone in our family had to pitch in to keep things running smoothly.
During my growing up years we did not have super highways to get us to far away places so folks tended to live in the same area most of their lives. We also did not have the kind of cars to travel such highways. Families in small towns led church and school centered lives, where activities kept you close to home and within walking distance of the events. After the ford cars came into production any family who had a ford, just had one car. Not a lot of women could drive - my mother never learned to drive. All of her children did however, as they grew up, moved away, and it became necessary for them to get to work, etc.
People depended upon each other for many things. Families shared chores, as well as crops they grew. Our way of life gradually began to change. I well remember when oleo margarine came into being. It came in a plastic bag with a little capsule inside which was broken and then the color in it was kneaded into white oleo to make it yellow like butter. Because we had cows we always had butter but when we no longer had cows and lived in a small town and no longer on a farm, a lot of things changed, including the switch to oleo.
World War II initiated a movement toward the cities where manufacturing was in full force creating materials needed to fight the war. We gradually were being introduced to newer things, newer situations, newer people and more stress. Technology was not standing still during this upheaval, nor was medical science. As the need arose, the solution was being created to meet it. Life gradually became more stressful and a pill was there to relieve the stress or pain or what ever presented itself. The family unit was being scattered and the comfort which families provided for each other was being scattered also.
Not that there was no stress, just that we had another way of relieving it. When my brother Bill was away during the war and in a far eastern section of the world, he could not tell our mother where he was, as letters were censored. So, before he left they devised a system whereby he could let her know where he was without divulging it to others. Each paragraph in his letters would begin with the first letter of the place where he was, and she could string them together and find on a map, just where he was. This gave her a sense of some control over the situation, thus somewhat relieving the stress of not knowing exactly where he was during the war.
A lot of stress we create for outselves. Living in the time of my childhood there was less to distract you and make you worry. Of cource it could just have been my perception of how it was. But even if my parents were stressed they had no pills for it so an evening spent swinging and looking up at the stars was a nice quiet way to wind down from the day, and no pills were there to help. We had to find natural ways to calm ourselves down.
In the 1930's we had a very long swing on our front porch. This swing was painted green. A lot of us could safely sit in it and swing or just sit and talk. Having a swing like that was a real stress reliever. You could swing it out or talk it out. That is only of the things that I believe accounts for us in that time, to not need pills to regulate our stress levels. In fact it was not known that such things were in existence, if in fact they were.
Television had not been invented, and in some homes, no radios, we were forced to find our own entertainment with board games and made up games. We did not have a lot of free time on our hands as everyone in our family had to pitch in to keep things running smoothly.
During my growing up years we did not have super highways to get us to far away places so folks tended to live in the same area most of their lives. We also did not have the kind of cars to travel such highways. Families in small towns led church and school centered lives, where activities kept you close to home and within walking distance of the events. After the ford cars came into production any family who had a ford, just had one car. Not a lot of women could drive - my mother never learned to drive. All of her children did however, as they grew up, moved away, and it became necessary for them to get to work, etc.
People depended upon each other for many things. Families shared chores, as well as crops they grew. Our way of life gradually began to change. I well remember when oleo margarine came into being. It came in a plastic bag with a little capsule inside which was broken and then the color in it was kneaded into white oleo to make it yellow like butter. Because we had cows we always had butter but when we no longer had cows and lived in a small town and no longer on a farm, a lot of things changed, including the switch to oleo.
World War II initiated a movement toward the cities where manufacturing was in full force creating materials needed to fight the war. We gradually were being introduced to newer things, newer situations, newer people and more stress. Technology was not standing still during this upheaval, nor was medical science. As the need arose, the solution was being created to meet it. Life gradually became more stressful and a pill was there to relieve the stress or pain or what ever presented itself. The family unit was being scattered and the comfort which families provided for each other was being scattered also.
Not that there was no stress, just that we had another way of relieving it. When my brother Bill was away during the war and in a far eastern section of the world, he could not tell our mother where he was, as letters were censored. So, before he left they devised a system whereby he could let her know where he was without divulging it to others. Each paragraph in his letters would begin with the first letter of the place where he was, and she could string them together and find on a map, just where he was. This gave her a sense of some control over the situation, thus somewhat relieving the stress of not knowing exactly where he was during the war.
A lot of stress we create for outselves. Living in the time of my childhood there was less to distract you and make you worry. Of cource it could just have been my perception of how it was. But even if my parents were stressed they had no pills for it so an evening spent swinging and looking up at the stars was a nice quiet way to wind down from the day, and no pills were there to help. We had to find natural ways to calm ourselves down.
Friday, July 20, 2012
Darn Deer
My confidence in gardening has just been shot to - well somewhere!
This morning I found a zillion deer tracks inside my electric fenced area of my raised beds. They really like my tomatoes, but so do I !!!! If they like cucumbers they will not find any in my garden. I know this because I cannot find any either! I did find one about two weeks ago that was about fourteen inches long, and it was put into bread and butter pickles. Now I have a second one that I picked today. I hate to give up on growing this particular type of cucumber as they have thin skins and no seeds to speak of, thus they make great pickles. Years ago I grew them very successfully, but this is the third year that they have failed to produce.
To add insult to injury, it appears that the deer have stripped my Muscadine vines of their grapes, and they have not even ripened yet! I still have two vines which have prize grapes, to me. They are large and purple and taste so wonderful. The deer may be avoiding them because they are in a spot away from the ones along the road. My neighbors are always telling me that they see deer in my vineyard but I cannot see the vines from my house, so I miss a lot of those sightings. A few days ago I did see a doe with her new babies. They still had spots on them, and they did not linger there when they saw my car. It was fun to see but not so much fun that I want to repeat the experience at the expense of my lovely grapes.
So far the deer have not shown a taste for the kiwi. They may have tried them and were put off by the fuzzy skin, so at least I will get something from my garden. And it is little comfort to know they cannot climb the fig tree, since the birds can fly in and consume all they want from the top.
Oh well, there are a few measures I can take, like putting out milorganite where the tomatoes are and next year before grapes appear I can put it around in the vineyard. That has worked in the past around my flowers.
I will probably get no sympathy from my grandsons other grandmother who lives in West Milford, New Jersey. Not only does she have to share with the deer but bears as well. They have come up on her porch and bring their babies over to check out her yard. She takes measures to deter them, like garbage cans with special locks designed to keep out the bears. I think she is pretty brave to even live on that mountain, but she loves the lake that goes with it and it has been her home for too many years to even think of moving to the city.
I have had to adjust to planting flowers and plants which the deer do not like to feed on so I must shift gears and concentrate on growing things other than tomatoes. I have heard that if the deer are hungry enough they will eat anything. If that is true then I must raise the white flag and retreat to indoor hobbies and then perhaps I will look upon them as dear deer and not darn deer.
This morning I found a zillion deer tracks inside my electric fenced area of my raised beds. They really like my tomatoes, but so do I !!!! If they like cucumbers they will not find any in my garden. I know this because I cannot find any either! I did find one about two weeks ago that was about fourteen inches long, and it was put into bread and butter pickles. Now I have a second one that I picked today. I hate to give up on growing this particular type of cucumber as they have thin skins and no seeds to speak of, thus they make great pickles. Years ago I grew them very successfully, but this is the third year that they have failed to produce.
To add insult to injury, it appears that the deer have stripped my Muscadine vines of their grapes, and they have not even ripened yet! I still have two vines which have prize grapes, to me. They are large and purple and taste so wonderful. The deer may be avoiding them because they are in a spot away from the ones along the road. My neighbors are always telling me that they see deer in my vineyard but I cannot see the vines from my house, so I miss a lot of those sightings. A few days ago I did see a doe with her new babies. They still had spots on them, and they did not linger there when they saw my car. It was fun to see but not so much fun that I want to repeat the experience at the expense of my lovely grapes.
So far the deer have not shown a taste for the kiwi. They may have tried them and were put off by the fuzzy skin, so at least I will get something from my garden. And it is little comfort to know they cannot climb the fig tree, since the birds can fly in and consume all they want from the top.
Oh well, there are a few measures I can take, like putting out milorganite where the tomatoes are and next year before grapes appear I can put it around in the vineyard. That has worked in the past around my flowers.
I will probably get no sympathy from my grandsons other grandmother who lives in West Milford, New Jersey. Not only does she have to share with the deer but bears as well. They have come up on her porch and bring their babies over to check out her yard. She takes measures to deter them, like garbage cans with special locks designed to keep out the bears. I think she is pretty brave to even live on that mountain, but she loves the lake that goes with it and it has been her home for too many years to even think of moving to the city.
I have had to adjust to planting flowers and plants which the deer do not like to feed on so I must shift gears and concentrate on growing things other than tomatoes. I have heard that if the deer are hungry enough they will eat anything. If that is true then I must raise the white flag and retreat to indoor hobbies and then perhaps I will look upon them as dear deer and not darn deer.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
A Poet in Your Pocket
Part of keeping on keeping on is finding constructive ways to spend my time. I have been able to read some very interesting books because my son brought some "loaner" books up to me to enjoy this summer. The one I am reading right now is John Adams by David McCullough.
Something John Adams wrote to his son,John Quincy, while he was away at University caught my attention. He was admonishing John Quincy to keep on with his studies while he had the opportunity and to not forget that the Arts were an important part of a well balanced life also. This is part of what he wrote: "You will never be alone with a poet in your pocket. You will never have an idle hour."
I think writing poetry is something that comes from deep within you. At a very young age I came up with a poem while I was being held up to a window so that I could see outside. It was a two line poem when I was just beginning to talk. I am not inclined to write it here as it had a word in it which is rather crude. I cannot imagine that I was taught to say such things as we were brought up in a strict home where crude language was not tolerated. But the incident tells me that you either have an inclination for writing poetry or you do not.
Many years later I asked my older sister, who was most likely the one who was holding me up to the window, if I really said that. She assured me that indeed I did! So, I must accept that I did, and try to put a good spin on it!!
Growing up I was not formally introduced to poetry and had never given a thought to composing it, nor was I interested in reading it. I will say that I loved the poems of Robert Louis Stevenson. I was intrigued with "A birdie with a yellow bill, hopped upon my window sill, cocked his shining eye and said, "ain't you shamed you sleepy head?" I think I liked the saucy little bird. It was only when I joined the Northeast Georgia Writers Group a few years ago that I first attempted to write a poem. Each year this group of writers, some published, some not, have an annual contest. On the list of categories for entries was poetry. It was then that I decided to try this form of writing.
I decided to do a Limerick. In fact I did four, which all had the theme of misadventure bound within them. I was very surprised when I won first place for these silly poems. This was like encouraging an idiot to keep on being an idiot! So, I have kept on being an idiot and loved doing it.
Since that one bit of encouragement I have branched out and find that writing poetry is a rather fun thing to do. Not everyone will like what I write, but that is expected and acceptable to me. I do it for my own enjoyment. So, with that in mind, I will share some poems I have written, some light hearted, some thoughtful, but they all sprang from within me at different times.
Rain
I awakened to thunder
At first I thought it nature's blunder
I put my feet upon the floor
And quickly opened up the door
Then I saw that all was wet
And knew I did not need to get
My hose and outside shoes
Just go back for another snooze
Balloons
Light, airy, knock them up, send them flying
Find the next one, hit it too, keep the game going
It is only play, we celebrate the birthday, the day, the family
We laugh with carefree abandon,
Tomorrow can wait, today there is joy,
Hugs, kisses,hopes fulfilled,
No need to travel further than this day, this time, this moment
I Can Only Imagine
I can only imagine how it would be
If all I ever could hope to see
Was white upon white
Even at night
Nothing in sight that was colorful, bright
No tulips or roses, daisies or violets blue
Or any other vibrant hue
Or missing the joy of seeking and seeing,
What greenery comes creeping up through
Brown earth and reaching toward sky
Happy reading to you all, whether it is poetry or prose.
Something John Adams wrote to his son,John Quincy, while he was away at University caught my attention. He was admonishing John Quincy to keep on with his studies while he had the opportunity and to not forget that the Arts were an important part of a well balanced life also. This is part of what he wrote: "You will never be alone with a poet in your pocket. You will never have an idle hour."
I think writing poetry is something that comes from deep within you. At a very young age I came up with a poem while I was being held up to a window so that I could see outside. It was a two line poem when I was just beginning to talk. I am not inclined to write it here as it had a word in it which is rather crude. I cannot imagine that I was taught to say such things as we were brought up in a strict home where crude language was not tolerated. But the incident tells me that you either have an inclination for writing poetry or you do not.
Many years later I asked my older sister, who was most likely the one who was holding me up to the window, if I really said that. She assured me that indeed I did! So, I must accept that I did, and try to put a good spin on it!!
Growing up I was not formally introduced to poetry and had never given a thought to composing it, nor was I interested in reading it. I will say that I loved the poems of Robert Louis Stevenson. I was intrigued with "A birdie with a yellow bill, hopped upon my window sill, cocked his shining eye and said, "ain't you shamed you sleepy head?" I think I liked the saucy little bird. It was only when I joined the Northeast Georgia Writers Group a few years ago that I first attempted to write a poem. Each year this group of writers, some published, some not, have an annual contest. On the list of categories for entries was poetry. It was then that I decided to try this form of writing.
I decided to do a Limerick. In fact I did four, which all had the theme of misadventure bound within them. I was very surprised when I won first place for these silly poems. This was like encouraging an idiot to keep on being an idiot! So, I have kept on being an idiot and loved doing it.
Since that one bit of encouragement I have branched out and find that writing poetry is a rather fun thing to do. Not everyone will like what I write, but that is expected and acceptable to me. I do it for my own enjoyment. So, with that in mind, I will share some poems I have written, some light hearted, some thoughtful, but they all sprang from within me at different times.
Rain
I awakened to thunder
At first I thought it nature's blunder
I put my feet upon the floor
And quickly opened up the door
Then I saw that all was wet
And knew I did not need to get
My hose and outside shoes
Just go back for another snooze
Balloons
Light, airy, knock them up, send them flying
Find the next one, hit it too, keep the game going
It is only play, we celebrate the birthday, the day, the family
We laugh with carefree abandon,
Tomorrow can wait, today there is joy,
Hugs, kisses,hopes fulfilled,
No need to travel further than this day, this time, this moment
I Can Only Imagine
I can only imagine how it would be
If all I ever could hope to see
Was white upon white
Even at night
Nothing in sight that was colorful, bright
No tulips or roses, daisies or violets blue
Or any other vibrant hue
Or missing the joy of seeking and seeing,
What greenery comes creeping up through
Brown earth and reaching toward sky
Happy reading to you all, whether it is poetry or prose.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Keep On Keeping On
Someone close to me used to say to me when he was leaving, "keep on keeping on". He would also say upon leaving, "be sweet". At the time I did not pay much attention to the words as I heard them often and that is probably why I remember them at all.
With the long hot summer we are experiencing here in the southeastern part of the United States, those words came back to me. When the temperatures outside are unbearable you are forced to find ways to "keep on keeping on".
Mostly it is keeping on indoors. Fortunately my house has new soundproof windows and a newly repaired A/C so it is pleasant to stay indoors all day. I find I can 'keep on' if I can get out in the less hot part of the day-early morning- to check on growing things or turn on the water to water my small garden, blueberry patch or new pecan tree. Jim has made it possible for me to water this way by putting in well placed hoses and sprinklers.
I am now reaping the rewards of that watering by having fresh blueberries and some fine tomatoes, green beans and now slowly arriving burpless cucumbers. Yesterday I made the first batch of bread and butter pickles from those cucumbers which make the best pickles ever. I like to give each batch its own name so this one is "Big C" because one of the cucumbers had grown to over 12 inches!
Having more produce than one person can use allows me to share with my family as things are harvested. Figs will be the next fruit to be ready for picking. They make great jam and are so tasty with milk for breakfast.
Being able to share fresh foods which are God's gift to me allows me to say in my own way "keep on keeping on' and "be sweet".
With the long hot summer we are experiencing here in the southeastern part of the United States, those words came back to me. When the temperatures outside are unbearable you are forced to find ways to "keep on keeping on".
Mostly it is keeping on indoors. Fortunately my house has new soundproof windows and a newly repaired A/C so it is pleasant to stay indoors all day. I find I can 'keep on' if I can get out in the less hot part of the day-early morning- to check on growing things or turn on the water to water my small garden, blueberry patch or new pecan tree. Jim has made it possible for me to water this way by putting in well placed hoses and sprinklers.
I am now reaping the rewards of that watering by having fresh blueberries and some fine tomatoes, green beans and now slowly arriving burpless cucumbers. Yesterday I made the first batch of bread and butter pickles from those cucumbers which make the best pickles ever. I like to give each batch its own name so this one is "Big C" because one of the cucumbers had grown to over 12 inches!
Having more produce than one person can use allows me to share with my family as things are harvested. Figs will be the next fruit to be ready for picking. They make great jam and are so tasty with milk for breakfast.
Being able to share fresh foods which are God's gift to me allows me to say in my own way "keep on keeping on' and "be sweet".
Friday, June 22, 2012
"I know you by name"
If you look in the Bible in the 33rd chapter of Exodus, verse 17, you will find the words that God spoke to Moses in one of their conversations about the plan which God had for Moses. First God told Moses that His presence would be with him in this plan. Then God told Moses that He knew him by name.
That is a powerful statement. It is a lot like saying "I know where you live", in a veiled threat. But God meant it as a reminder that He sanctioned the plan He had for Moses and the people of Israel.
It is pretty awesome to think that God knows you by name. It is comforting and at the same time scary. It means you have a lot to live up to and it is powerful. Can you imagine going all year in a classroom with a teacher who did not know your name? In most classrooms by the second day the children appear, the teacher knows his/her name. In most cases the teacher knew the name before the child entered the door and has prepared a name and attached it to the child's desk. It is a good plan and establishes where the child will be "living" that school year and it establishes boundaries that all can identify. In much the same way, God knew you before you appeared.
But getting back to God knowing your name, it is a good thought to keep with you as you go through a difficult time. "Robert, (or Alice or Sam)this is a hard thing you are experiencing right now but remember that you do not have to go it alone, I am present with you, and I know your name." God is there in many ways, sending help in human form, or in ways you may never realize.
If life is especially hard for you right now, focus on God's presence being with you. It is a powerful thing to experience God's presence, to know that He knows your name.
That is a powerful statement. It is a lot like saying "I know where you live", in a veiled threat. But God meant it as a reminder that He sanctioned the plan He had for Moses and the people of Israel.
It is pretty awesome to think that God knows you by name. It is comforting and at the same time scary. It means you have a lot to live up to and it is powerful. Can you imagine going all year in a classroom with a teacher who did not know your name? In most classrooms by the second day the children appear, the teacher knows his/her name. In most cases the teacher knew the name before the child entered the door and has prepared a name and attached it to the child's desk. It is a good plan and establishes where the child will be "living" that school year and it establishes boundaries that all can identify. In much the same way, God knew you before you appeared.
But getting back to God knowing your name, it is a good thought to keep with you as you go through a difficult time. "Robert, (or Alice or Sam)this is a hard thing you are experiencing right now but remember that you do not have to go it alone, I am present with you, and I know your name." God is there in many ways, sending help in human form, or in ways you may never realize.
If life is especially hard for you right now, focus on God's presence being with you. It is a powerful thing to experience God's presence, to know that He knows your name.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Do Your Words Define You?
When I was growing up in the 1940's, we never heard any "bad words" at home or at school. Later in life I learned that when people do use those "bad words" it was an indication of frustration, and my attitude about using them began to soften- toward the user.
As a young lady I had picked up an expression while in college of saying "Oh hell" when something went wrong. It was such a habit that I did not even realize I was saying it. My new husband, who simply did not use coarse language, asked me to stop saying that as it was not ladylike. Of course I corrected that habit immediately, perhaps because I was so shocked to have my new husband ask me to!
When we were living in Maryland as a young couple we made friends with other teachers who came from different parts of the east. One couple in particular had three little girls and we visited a lot with them. He told a story once of being in Memphis Tenn for some occasion and he got on an elevator. The person who came on after him said "Will you mash 3"? This made us all laugh. He said that was when he knew he was in Tennessee. Certain words seem to emanate from particular regions of the country and he was a native of Tennessee.
It isn't often that you go into a doctor's office and end up making him laugh - when you did not intend to. But I did it once. When my doctor checked my blood pressure he said "Your blood pressure is a little high". I said that I had just come from the dentist and that would give anybody the "heebie-jeebies". When he stopped laughing, he said "Rose, you are delightful".
I did not laugh with him as I saw nothing funny in what I said, it was a word I used sometimes.
When I had been living in Maryland for almost a year, I was called home to Kentucky as my father had a stroke and I went home to help my mother. He was at home and did need a lot of care. It was a stressful time for my mother, my sister and me. We were all in the bedroom with him one day and were trying to change the sheets on his bed. I guess one of us did something that was out of logical order and we all began giggling which went on for too long. My father said to us "Now, let's maintain decorum". That brought us all back to cold reality. We were all so stressed it turned into giggles.
Words and the power of words have always fascinated me. If you search your memory for the things you remember and either feel encouraged to recall, or feel downcast to recall, the words you remember have some kind of power to still be in your memory.
On our public television here in Georgia, Charlie Rose interviews people who have some significance in the political, business, literary or entertainment world. It is my "go to" program for an interesting hour in the middle of the day. It makes for good company while I have my noontime lunch. What interests me most is the spoken word by the guests around his table. You are bound to hear something new which challenges you to want to know more. I used to love to hear William S. Buckley (founder of The National Review - in 1955) speak for his choice of words always intrigued me.
Nutritionists will say that you are what you eat. My mother used to say that you are what you read. I certainly believe that you are a product of your environment, what ever it may be. We are influenced by many things and we are prone to absorb language that we are exposed to. My childhood friend was raised in the mountains and used to say "Hidy" as a greeting. That is a word from Appalachia if ever there was one. Even though she was well trained in Music and was a performer all her life she still used that greeting even in old age. I rather admire her for it, as she felt perfectly at home greeting you with "Hidy", it was a word from her childhood and a rather affectionate one at that. It defined who she was. Amen!
As a young lady I had picked up an expression while in college of saying "Oh hell" when something went wrong. It was such a habit that I did not even realize I was saying it. My new husband, who simply did not use coarse language, asked me to stop saying that as it was not ladylike. Of course I corrected that habit immediately, perhaps because I was so shocked to have my new husband ask me to!
When we were living in Maryland as a young couple we made friends with other teachers who came from different parts of the east. One couple in particular had three little girls and we visited a lot with them. He told a story once of being in Memphis Tenn for some occasion and he got on an elevator. The person who came on after him said "Will you mash 3"? This made us all laugh. He said that was when he knew he was in Tennessee. Certain words seem to emanate from particular regions of the country and he was a native of Tennessee.
It isn't often that you go into a doctor's office and end up making him laugh - when you did not intend to. But I did it once. When my doctor checked my blood pressure he said "Your blood pressure is a little high". I said that I had just come from the dentist and that would give anybody the "heebie-jeebies". When he stopped laughing, he said "Rose, you are delightful".
I did not laugh with him as I saw nothing funny in what I said, it was a word I used sometimes.
When I had been living in Maryland for almost a year, I was called home to Kentucky as my father had a stroke and I went home to help my mother. He was at home and did need a lot of care. It was a stressful time for my mother, my sister and me. We were all in the bedroom with him one day and were trying to change the sheets on his bed. I guess one of us did something that was out of logical order and we all began giggling which went on for too long. My father said to us "Now, let's maintain decorum". That brought us all back to cold reality. We were all so stressed it turned into giggles.
Words and the power of words have always fascinated me. If you search your memory for the things you remember and either feel encouraged to recall, or feel downcast to recall, the words you remember have some kind of power to still be in your memory.
On our public television here in Georgia, Charlie Rose interviews people who have some significance in the political, business, literary or entertainment world. It is my "go to" program for an interesting hour in the middle of the day. It makes for good company while I have my noontime lunch. What interests me most is the spoken word by the guests around his table. You are bound to hear something new which challenges you to want to know more. I used to love to hear William S. Buckley (founder of The National Review - in 1955) speak for his choice of words always intrigued me.
Nutritionists will say that you are what you eat. My mother used to say that you are what you read. I certainly believe that you are a product of your environment, what ever it may be. We are influenced by many things and we are prone to absorb language that we are exposed to. My childhood friend was raised in the mountains and used to say "Hidy" as a greeting. That is a word from Appalachia if ever there was one. Even though she was well trained in Music and was a performer all her life she still used that greeting even in old age. I rather admire her for it, as she felt perfectly at home greeting you with "Hidy", it was a word from her childhood and a rather affectionate one at that. It defined who she was. Amen!
Friday, June 1, 2012
June Surprise
I had been waiting for this first bloom to appear. But when I saw it, I was taken aback. The buds on the other bushes were larger and usually have the first bloom. So, when I set my eyes on this perfect, first bloom, on the first day of June, I fairly squealed. Upon close examination it appears to be holding out six arms in welcome. The inner part is still folded in a tight promise to open soon.The gardenia is one of those flowers that delivers on its promise of a heavenly scent, ready to meet your senses when you wander into its territory.
If this isn't heaven, then it must be a little "teaser" of what it will be like. It does not promise to stay all summer, rather only long enough to make you want more. I know that I can expect a few weeks of these welcome blooms, coming, turning brown and unless you pull the dead blooms off, they will hang on for a long time.
I did notice a whitefly moving about so some gardening chores are awaiting me. Whiteflies are prone to appear on these bushes, so I am prepared. I have a systemic solution and will waste no time in applying it to the ground around this otherwise healthy bush.
If you do not have a Gardenia bush in your landscape, I urge you to find a spot for one. The north side of your house or in a spot where they can have some sun with plenty of shade, will be ideal for growing your Gardenia. You will be rewarded over and over again for your efforts
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Early Harvest 2012
2012 will be the year of "early". The weather change to Spring came early and that shaped the planting of gardens early and now while we are in late May, the early harvest is upon up. At least here in the southeast we are happily beginning to reap the reward of our planting from years past, and seeing early fruit from this springs planting.
A week ago I noticed through the netting over the blueberries that some big blue berries were ready to be picked. I did just that and had a small handful of the biggest ones I have grown. A few had to be tasted right then but the rest made my breakfast special.
Yesterday morning early, I got in my golf cart and headed down to the raised beds to do some serious weed pulling. Using my hoe I got things stirred up around the blue lake green beans and the tomato plants. The green beans have promising white blooms on them and the tomato plants have golf ball size green tomatoes. I have staked them to try to keep the branches from falling to the ground. The stems on all of the plants, cucumbers included, are sturdy and healthy looking. As I started to drive back up to the house I glanced over at the blackberry patch and saw big black berries, so I just had to stop and pick them. The picture shows how long the biggest one was. I noticed that on the bush with the big ripe berries were some white blooms just starting the fruit process. That looked strange to me, but a lot of things in gardening are strange this year.
It has been many years since I have seen berries as big as these. I saw them on some bushes at the edge of the forest behind our home in Kentucky. We were all so impressed with the size of them and they were the wild berries. For my taste the wild ones are sweeter and the seeds are smaller, making them more desirable. But, I will take ripe blackberries any way I can get them. They are just wonderful with sugar and milk, in jam and jelly or just eaten out of hand.
Lady luck is with me so far this year in my garden. Having an early spring is preferable to having a late one. Especially when it brings rain to follow up the planting of seeds or plants. The figs are about half size on my biggest tree and marble size kiwi are hanging from healthy branches. It usually is the first of August before the figs are ripe, but with this head start it may be the first of July. The kiwi will not be ready for picking until the first frost this fall. I have to be very watchful around that time or I will find myself trying to fight harsh winds to collect these fruits.
There is one drawback to having an early spring. Does that mean an early fall and winter? Last year after a long dry summer with very little success in my garden, we were hit with a colder than usual December. So, it seems that something is pushing the seasons into earlier cycles. Since I have no control over Mother Nature, I will have to adjust. This spring at least, the adjusting has been very pleasant. It looks like I will be having enough from my harvest to put in my deep freeze. There is nothing that can compare to going to the deep freezer and picking a large bag of frozen blue lake green beans to cook for my family when they come up to visit on cold winter days.
A week ago I noticed through the netting over the blueberries that some big blue berries were ready to be picked. I did just that and had a small handful of the biggest ones I have grown. A few had to be tasted right then but the rest made my breakfast special.
Yesterday morning early, I got in my golf cart and headed down to the raised beds to do some serious weed pulling. Using my hoe I got things stirred up around the blue lake green beans and the tomato plants. The green beans have promising white blooms on them and the tomato plants have golf ball size green tomatoes. I have staked them to try to keep the branches from falling to the ground. The stems on all of the plants, cucumbers included, are sturdy and healthy looking. As I started to drive back up to the house I glanced over at the blackberry patch and saw big black berries, so I just had to stop and pick them. The picture shows how long the biggest one was. I noticed that on the bush with the big ripe berries were some white blooms just starting the fruit process. That looked strange to me, but a lot of things in gardening are strange this year.
It has been many years since I have seen berries as big as these. I saw them on some bushes at the edge of the forest behind our home in Kentucky. We were all so impressed with the size of them and they were the wild berries. For my taste the wild ones are sweeter and the seeds are smaller, making them more desirable. But, I will take ripe blackberries any way I can get them. They are just wonderful with sugar and milk, in jam and jelly or just eaten out of hand.
Lady luck is with me so far this year in my garden. Having an early spring is preferable to having a late one. Especially when it brings rain to follow up the planting of seeds or plants. The figs are about half size on my biggest tree and marble size kiwi are hanging from healthy branches. It usually is the first of August before the figs are ripe, but with this head start it may be the first of July. The kiwi will not be ready for picking until the first frost this fall. I have to be very watchful around that time or I will find myself trying to fight harsh winds to collect these fruits.
There is one drawback to having an early spring. Does that mean an early fall and winter? Last year after a long dry summer with very little success in my garden, we were hit with a colder than usual December. So, it seems that something is pushing the seasons into earlier cycles. Since I have no control over Mother Nature, I will have to adjust. This spring at least, the adjusting has been very pleasant. It looks like I will be having enough from my harvest to put in my deep freeze. There is nothing that can compare to going to the deep freezer and picking a large bag of frozen blue lake green beans to cook for my family when they come up to visit on cold winter days.
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
My Friends, the Trees
The outline of a tree against the sky attracts me as a thing of beauty. I want to savor that beauty and look again and again to enjoy the pattern of its branches.
Fond memories of trees come back to me, beginning from my early childhood. Our home was at the foot of a mountain in Kentucky. The woods became my playground. Huge grapevines fell from the branches of the trees and we could swing Tarzan fashion in childish delight.
Friday, May 18, 2012
Putting Life On Hold
There are times in life when we are forced to stop everything and handle the problem at hand. It may be an illness in the family, an illness of our own, or an external situation over which we have no control, but it interferes with us forging ahead with our own dream which is beckoning to us. It happens all the time to each of us. Some of the things that stop us cold may be fairly minor, but it can be something really major and could go on for years. It may go on for so long that you forget it was there in the first place.
If you need to post reminders it may not be all that life altering. It may be a gentle, mental tugging that crops up from time to time and you just can't settle on a beginning. I have heard of authors who have ideas for books but just cannot find time to get it off the ground. When James Michener died, he was 91 and he had ideas for 30 books he wanted to write. He did write enough to let us know he was great at his craft.
Winston Churchill made a speech during World War II, that inspired the nation of Great Britain to hang on and hang in to defeat the enemy, Nazi Germany. It was October 29th, 1941 and he was visiting Harrow School after the Blitz. The war was looking up a little for Great Britain. The long remembered part "Never give in. Never give in, never, never, never, never..." was a rallying call to the people of Great Britain, to defend their country through some very bad times.
If you have a dream which has been pushed back until a better time, examine it again. Perhaps it is finally doable. Do something positive to get it moving again. If it is a good idea, test it out to see if you are ready to go forward with it. It just may be a very satisfying event waiting to happen in your life. Be inspired by Winston Churchill, never give in, find a way to make your dream happen, at least give it a try.
If you need to post reminders it may not be all that life altering. It may be a gentle, mental tugging that crops up from time to time and you just can't settle on a beginning. I have heard of authors who have ideas for books but just cannot find time to get it off the ground. When James Michener died, he was 91 and he had ideas for 30 books he wanted to write. He did write enough to let us know he was great at his craft.
Winston Churchill made a speech during World War II, that inspired the nation of Great Britain to hang on and hang in to defeat the enemy, Nazi Germany. It was October 29th, 1941 and he was visiting Harrow School after the Blitz. The war was looking up a little for Great Britain. The long remembered part "Never give in. Never give in, never, never, never, never..." was a rallying call to the people of Great Britain, to defend their country through some very bad times.
If you have a dream which has been pushed back until a better time, examine it again. Perhaps it is finally doable. Do something positive to get it moving again. If it is a good idea, test it out to see if you are ready to go forward with it. It just may be a very satisfying event waiting to happen in your life. Be inspired by Winston Churchill, never give in, find a way to make your dream happen, at least give it a try.
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