ALL THAT I AM...........

Today is the day my beautiful Mother would have celebrated her 100th birthday here on earth! Wow! What a party we would have had! 

It is said by some that Abraham Lincoln said of his birth Mother, Nancy Hanks, "All that I am or hope to be, I owe to my dear angel Mother." Well that's exactly how I feel. Now don't go saying ugly things 'cause you're surely gonna rile me up. I know, I know, I've got some things I need to work on and trust me, I'm working on them, but it's nothing that God didn't give me in the first place and that Momma didn't tell me to use to His glory. In fact, both my parents encouraged me to stand up for what I believed in as long as it was honest and lawful. 

Momma was a piece of work. No other way to say it. She loved her family, church, piano, laughter and friends. She would sit and play her piano all day long for you if you ask her to. Oh, and as a side note, she was a hairdresser or "beautician" as she called herself. She loved to make people look pretty or "feel" pretty whichever the case may be. 

She sang in the church choirs and was church pianist or organist almost all her life. She took me to Sunday School and Church all my life growing up. She nurtured me, disciplined me and loved me unconditionally. She was the note writer, the card sender, the cake baker, (although she hated cooking and often solicited my Dad to do the baking) the musician, and later in life, the artist, the bell ringer, choral singer, and the poet. She was all over the place doing good for whomever she could until blindness overtook her and her legs could no longer support her. She was a ray of sunshine where there was darkness at the nursing homes playing hymns and leading singing for those who had nothing to look forward to. And then when she moved to a retirement home, she looked like royalty at the antique grand piano at the Hermitage in Richmond, VA, where she softly played the favorites of the elderly souls while they waited for their meals in the beautiful old home. She was adored by everyone who knew her. She couldn't walk or see, but get out of her way, she had her electric wheel chair and she knew every nook and cranny of that huge building!

If I never do another thing in my life, I hope I will be able to touch the lives of as many people through the years as positively as my Mother did. 

Happy Birthday Momma! I'll see you when I get there! 

Oh yes, and I'm working on it!.......... I owe it to my Mother. 

Conservative Approach

 It isn't often that I set my alarm for 3:45 AM.  I'm nobody's sweetheart at that time of morning and would wake up the dead if they happened up on me brushing my teeth.  In any event, this morning I bounced out of the bed at the motel room after a very short night and gently as possible told my hubby it was time for him to take his shower and get ready to go. He was scheduled for out patient surgery at 7:30 AM and we had to be in the hospital by 5:00 for all the hoopla to start the ball rolling.  We arrived right on time.

Physicians, as a rule, don't seem to have much time or patience for small talk and trivial matters.  I understand that.  They're busy folks.  They have schedules and it's important to stay focused and keep up with all the details.  I don't expect them to remember personal stuff.  On the other hand, being compassionate is another whole ballgame.  Sometimes you just need a nod of approval, a hand on your shoulder, or a gentle smile to make things a little better.

Today, as the team was assembling to prepare my husband for surgery, the surgeon and the anesthesiologist conferred.  It was a pretty sobering moment when the anesthesiologist obviously was not comfortable about the sedation process because of my husbands other health issues.  The surgeon laid it on the line and told of the risks involved in putting him to sleep.  He then told of the alternative risks of not doing the surgery.  Both options we already had been told, but hearing them again at that moment in time in that room just 15 minutes prior to surgery definitely hit home.  My eyes filled with tears.  My husband said "Go ahead with the surgery".

In lay terms, the anesthesiologist decided to try to use a conservative approach first without putting a breathing tube down his throat, and if he ran into a problem with pain, then he would do that, but would try the other first so that was his plan.  The surgeon was good with that.  He would work fast!  Hope for no problems!  He then turned to me and reached down and gave me a big bear hug.  Oh how I needed that hug!  He smiled and said he would come out and find me when the surgery was over.   And he did!  Everything went well!  God is good!  We're going home!  

Unfortunately, so few students are going into the medical field today that worrying about compassion seems to be the least of our worries.  But that's another subject for another day....... 

WE'VE GOT IT ALL FIGURED OUT!

It was one of those blazing hot Sunday afternoon weddings, back in 1956 when we jumped into a borrowed car with tin cans tied to the back bumper and dead fish under the hood, and sped off down Highway 80 toward Adrian trying to outrun all our friends whooping and hollering after us. I was perspiring, not sweating mind you, in my conservative beige sheath going away outfit from Rosenbergs, complete with pill box straw hat and net veil, high heeled sandals, white gloves, purse, hose, etc. - you get the picture. This is mid 50's remember? 

Now, our lives had just been sealed into perpetuity! We had been sweethearts for as long as we could remember and now we were husband and wife and nothing could stop us! We had it made! We were invincible! Yeah! Go us! Atlanta bound! Whoopee! Look out world! Watch out, we're gonna knock your socks off! So, get out of our way........... And so it was that we headed off on our two day honeymoon to the Capitol of Georgia with $50!

We spent our first special night in Griffin, Georgia at the Peter Pan Motel. No joke. Sounds glamourous, huh? We drove into Atlanta and went to the wonderous Fox Theater and saw the stars in the ceiling and watched Bus Stop starring Marilyn Monroe. It was way more glamourous than the motel. Then, being the good granddaughter that I am, we visited my Grandmother in East Point for a while and then drove on to Jonesboro where we spent our second honeymoon night at the Wagonwheel Motel. Another one for the rich and famous. We chowed down on burgers, peanuts, cola, and chips and played the television as long as we felt we could spare the quarters. 

Alas, our two day honeymoon was coming to a close and we drove home on Tuesday with a total of $11 to last us until the next payday. Not too bad. Only problem was, we hadn't counted on the fact that we were losing a couple of days work.  Not to worry, we were in love so we'd figure something out. We returned the car.

Our first apartment was a tiny garage apartment right in town across the street from the very church where we married! Hubby could walk to work if necessary. Steep stairs led up to a living room, kitchen, bedroom and bath. What the heck, it was only $25 a month! It was grand! My best friends Mother made us some beautiful pink curtains for our bedroom. We bought new furniture "on time". We were in love right? We could do anything we set our minds to! We had it all figured out! Never mind we only made $25 a week........I had a job at the local hospital making $25 and hubby made $25 a week at the hardware store so, there you go! Ta Da!

Now, when this girl grew up, talking about birth control wasn't everyday conversation around my house, wasn't sold in the local supermarkets,  and God forbid you mentioned the word "sex" , or "pregnant" within a mile of the school grounds.    I expect you're beginning to get an idea where this is going................

Along about the first of October, I begin to feel like I could throw up my toenails. Actually I don't throw up. I just feel like I'm going to throw up, which is worse. It didn't take too long to figure out what the problem might be and I made an appointment with my local doctor who had no mercy for an 18 year never - been - there girl! He confirmed that I was indeed PREGNANT and that my pelvic joints could have an elephant, which really made me feel so at ease him, his nurse, and the world. He really had such a way with words, God rest his soul. 

Well, so much for having it all figured out. Of course, I couldn't work anymore because my head stayed over the toilet for three months, thinking I was going to throw up any minutes. Our sweet little garage apartment with those blasted steep stairs didn't sit too well with the whale I was turning into, so we had to move into another sweet little apartment which was just one floor and cost $35 a month - $10 more a month, mind you. We still had no car of our own remember, but still used the borrowed one of a family member as needed - which was all the time. I spent my days sitting in my Mom's beauty shop watching her roll up hair and giving perms and would go back to our apartment in time to make our meager dinner. We didn't have two pennies to rub together! Somewhere in the back part of my mind were ringing the words my Dad has said "what will you do if this or that happens"..when he was trying to convince me that we needed more time, education, and experience before we married. 

But we'd get together with our friends - some of whom were expecting like us - and play cards and laugh and have some fun at each others apartments occasionally. Yep, those were the days......

 

Blackberry Cobbler, Dance Halls, and Other Great Things

Here we are at the beginning of another summer where mosquitoes are big as buzzards waiting to bite me and snakes and other slithering creepy things are outside in the garden just waiting to “scare the hell of me” as my friend’s little five year old grandson said of a mouse once.

I can remember the time when going barefoot in the sandy dirt roads of southeastern Georgia and picking blackberries for a cobbler didn’t phase us kids.  Heck, we probably scared more rattlesnakes than we even knew existed, and I’m here to tell you, they grow ‘em big along the banks of the “Hoopie” and cotton fields in that neck of the woods!   

But “those were the days”!  Coleman’s Lake and McKinney’s Pond were the local hot spots for good fresh fish and seafood.  Everybody for miles around came to either place at one time or another and usually on the week-end.  Each place had their own huge dance hall complete with the gigantic record player which played the popular tunes of the day, 3 for a quarter.  On a week-end, there was standing room only usually and things were hopping!  Folks would eat till they nearly popped, then danced the night away. 

Both places had swimming pools with water so cold your lips would turn blue.    Both also had bowling alleys and skating rinks at one time or another.  Great places for families to spend Sunday afternoons after church or have family reunions.    How many kisses were stolen in the softly lighted dance floors?  How many “I love you’s” were spoken?  How many cars got in the ditch on the way home because they weren’t exactly looking at the road?  Ohhh yes, those were the days!

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we had that awesome kind of innocence and carefree lifestyle today?  Wouldn’t it be wonderful to go to Coleman’s Lake or McKinney’s Pond where you could leave your keys in the car and not worry that it would be stolen.  Your little kids could go into the restaurant and play the pin ball machine and think they were cool while their Mom and Dad were in the next room doing the “shag”.  Or the kids could all pile in the car and drive out for an afternoon of bowling or skating and swimming and be home by dark without their parents having a “hissie fit”.    Wouldn’t it?

And how about that blackberry cobbler?  Frozen blackberries just don’t cut it.  Those blackberries that come picked from the side of the road that your bloodied hands picked that had road dust and those little brown seed looking things on them that have to be washed good before you use them – now that what I’m talking about!  That’s blackberry cobbler.  With lots of sugar!  And real whipped cream out of one of those squirt cans.  Not cool whip!   There’s a difference, you know.