PRICELESS MEMORIES

Every now and then, I burst out laughing at some weird moment – like while I’m in the shower or blow drying my hair.  You know, one of those times when your mind is wandering around and you think, “Why on earth did I think of that” kind of time.   Now, I savor those times when I can remember little things that I’ve tucked back in my memory and completely forgotten  because for the life of me, if someone had asked me about them, I couldn’t have told them a straight story.  But when they flash in my mind while I'm standing naked in the shower or some other inopportune time, I’m real tempted to run through the house to my computer to write it down so I’ll never forget it again.  It’s a priceless memory! 

Priceless memories…….Remember shy boy?  Well, we’ve been married 57 years now.  On a very hot August day, not long after my eighteenth birthday, my Daddy walked me down the aisle of the First Methodist Church where I was baptized at eight years old.  As we started into the sanctuary, Daddy looked at me and said, “Baby, it’s not too late to back out – are you sure?”  I smiled back and said, “I’m sure”….…….

As we rattled down the road at 90 miles an hour with tin cans behind our borrowed car and unknown to us, dead fish tied to the motor of the car,  we headed to Atlanta for a two day honeymoon with $50 in our pockets..  We came home with $11.    We had everything figured out and because we loved each other, thought that was enough to make our world complete

Well, let me tell you, we didn’t have everything figured out and loving each other didn’t cut it on making our world complete.  Far from it.  If anybody ever tries to tell you that love is all you need, you might want to steer clear of their marital advice. 

Almost ten months later thinking I had eaten too much watermelon, the most adorable, very hairy, 8 ½ lb.  baby boy appeared, complete with ten fingers and toes and blue eyes.  Not at all what I had secretly asked for! (A baby boy that looked like my little brother) but equally as beautiful.  I was like a mother hen!  I rocked and kissed and sang to that baby constantly,     I dressed him in the precious hand made baby clothes Mom had made for my brother and passed along to me.  Priceless memories……

Twenty months later, #2, an 8 lb 11 oz, bald head bundle of joy appeared.  Once again, we dressed this sweetheart in the now frayed handmade diaper shirts and long gowns made of batiste and lace.  No rocking and cuddling would do for this one, however.  I tried, but he wanted no part of that.  He did his own thing rocking on his all fours in the crib.  By the time he could mount on his all fours, he was rocking that crib from one side of the room to the other.  No pacifier, no walking the floor, no singing, no cooing, nothing seemed to soothe the constant movement and colic.  In the meantime, #1 child was underneath the crib with #2’s bottle watching the crib whiz by.   When #2 learned to walk at eight months, yes, eight months old, the two of them would start inside one end my kitchen cabinets and ramble through the pots and pans to the other end, a distance of some 10 ft or so. 

As they grew, their energy knew no bounds.  They could figure out how to do anything.  Once, #1 decided to see if he could clean up #2, so he placed him in the washing machine and turned it on.  Screaming, #2 yells for help and I come running to find him holding on for dear life as he swishes back and forth in my new Kenmore.   Priceless memories…..

Then there was the time when they stuffed the paper in the furnace where the pilot light burned.  My Mom happened to be baby sitting at the time and thought the house was on fire.  The fire department wasn’t amused. 

And who could forget how proud I was of my four year when he could recite the Pledge of Allegiance at Ms. Duffy’s kindergarten.  “I pledge allegiance to the flag of the nunited states of the merica and to the republic for which it stands one nation under guard with liverty and justice for all”.  ……….  Priceless memories…….

Of course, there was #2’s first broken arm that we didn’t know was broken, and the second one that we did know was broken which grew back bowed.  The time he escaped from school in the 3^rd grade and was half way across town before we finally caught him.  He allowed as how his desk stunk and he didn’t like that school!

Snow balls with rocks in them, gasoline on frogs, skipping school, and a whole lot of other unmentionables fall into the category of priceless memories as well.  Just because they are priceless doesn’t always mean they have to be good memories.  It simply means that they served a purpose in my life and they are tucked away never to be forgotten.

After seven years with two rambunctious boys, we were blessed with a beautiful baby girl.  The boys were so proud of their little sister and told the whole neighborhood of her new developments before I could!  Naturally, she wanted to do everything they did.  Typical little “tom boy”. 

Leotards and tutu’s were not her style.  I can see her now with the leotards inching down her legs and her fussing about having to wear them.  We enrolled her in dance classes hoping that would entice her to become “lady like”.  That was a hoot!  Leotards falling down with tutu’s and scarves flowing on the stage was definitely worth the price of admission.  But she was my little girl!  ……..

I’ll never forget the time the discussion somehow came up about telling lies and the fact that people burned in hell and four year old Teresa burst out in tears…..”You never TOLD me that!”  Or when Mom thanked her for something and she politely says "Don't mention it!"  And the time she said "Momma, have you got feathers?" which I'll leave at that is the best story ever!   Priceless memories…… 

When she was in 1^st grade, she would watch the neighbors across the street play tennis.  When she saw them go to the court, she’d run get her brother’s racket, run across the street to the courts, and sit on the benches watching.  They would see her and usually ask her to come hit some balls with them when they finished.  She would go on to be on the tennis team in high school.    Softball, soccer, any sport was right up her alley.   My little girl wanted no part of the fluffy stuff!  

Family time was almost nonexistent.  What shy boy and I didn’t have figured out was how to raise three children on that $11 we came home with from our honeymoon.  He was working all the time and I worked outside the home as well.  It was necessary to maintain the lifestyle we wanted for ourselves and the children.  We moved many times due to job changes and each time was supposed to make life better and give us more time together in the big scheme of things.   It didn’t happen that way.  Years flew by and the children grew up and now have families of their own.   I wonder how their lives might be different today if our choices, as parents, had been different for them growing up.   

Now, fifty seven years later, memories are just that.  But they are priceless.  The good ones and the bad ones.   I laugh spontaneously at the good ones and grieve at the bad ones.  There are many things that I would do differently as a parent if I had an opportunity to go back in time.   My hope is that somehow amid all the things that got overlooked and I didn’t do right, the one thing my children will always know is that I love them more anything else and they'll always be my special gifts from God..

MENTOR OR MEDDLER

I’ve made some wise decisions in my adult life and I’ve made some not so wise ones.  Sometimes, no matter how hard you try or how much you plan, your decision turns out to be a bad one.  And sometimes, no matter how much you think it is not going to be a good decision, it turns out to be a blessing in disguise. 

One of my decisions that became a great blessing in my life involved becoming a mentor to a local lady in a nursing home who had no family or friends who regularly visited.    I decided to try and give back some love and care to an elderly person who was lonely like my Mom had been when she was in a nursing home.  I remember how she had looked forward to the visits of the local people who stopped in once in a while. 

I came to love Mrs. P, who was grouchy and never smiled, but peeped through one eye when she thought I wasn’t watching to see if I was still there.   She was so lonely and always called for me when she had to go to the hospital.  She did have some family, but they didn’t live close by so she never had many visits unless I went to see her.  Sometimes I’d take her for a ride or sometimes take her an ice cream but usually took her a treat of some kind.  She didn’t say so, but I think she looked forward to it even if it wasn’t anything but a peppermint candy. I visited her for years but when I became ill myself, I wasn’t able to visit regularly and felt really bad.  I wondered what she must have felt about me not being there since she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, communicate with anyone. 

When I finally resumed visiting her, she was very ill and passed away just before her 100^th birthday.  I went to her room to visit her and it was empty.  No one had called me to tell me.  I felt like I had been hit in the stomach.  As it turned out, I was able to go to her funeral that very day.  I received letters from the extended family thanking me and letting me know how much she loved me.   What a blessing she was to my life.

Becoming involved in local government was not in my best interests.  Apparently my desire to become an informed citizen immediately labeled me as a “meddler” as was evidenced by a letter saying I was “harassing” the clerk.  Not good.  Clearly, I was in uncharted waters asking for information that nobody had ever asked for or received before.  How could I help plan to make things better without knowing what went wrong in the past?  Facts, figures, records, are the only things you have to go on.     

It isn’t my nature to give up or to turn my head if I see something wrong that I could make right.  I don’t believe that laws are written to apply to specific people unless it is spelled out that way and for good reason.  I believe tax payers have a right to say how their money should be spent and that transparency is essential, and a right.  Some might not agree with me and what a pity that friendships become shattered over differences of philosophy.  It shouldn’t be this way.  Maybe I am a “meddler” if these things are wrong.  

I’m going to count this experience as a blessing too.  I learned so much during my year and a half as a council person.  Serving in any form of government is an honor not to be taken lightly!  And no one, absolutely no one,  should make it a career!

When to make that call.......

Last week we lost our dearly beloved pet poodle, Peaches.  She was the light of our lives. We got her when she was only three months old.  She was thirteen years old last March.

How do you know when it’s time to euthanize your beloved pet?  How can you be sure that tomorrow she or he won’t be right back to the normal routine?   Oh,  how I agonized over that question.    Each situation is bound to be different and everyone has their own set of circumstances to guide them.  But for me, I asked myself over and over, was Peaches living the life she would want to live.

 I looked at how she could no longer run and jump up on the sofa or chair because of the arthritis in her back legs.  She struggled to get up from lying down.  I looked at how she could jump down from the bed and her little legs would give away and she would crumble in pain and struggle to get up off the floor.  Then she couldn’t get back up on the bed,  and would lie silently at the foot of our bed until we picked her up.  I looked at how when she went potty on her little pads, her little back legs couldn’t support her any longer and she would wet herself and she didn’t like that.   She couldn’t chase her ball anymore.  She couldn’t jump up for her treats.  She coughed a lot.  She started having seizures when she was six years old.  She had at least one seizure a month and sometimes more.  She was on three different medications.  Her liver enzymes were extraordinarily high.  Her stomach was bloated and her day consisted of eating and sleeping.  Nothing more.  Not very much fun for our beautiful Peaches who always was running to get her squeaky ball to play, especially when we walked in the door. 

And yet, was it time?  Should we make that call?  She looked up at us with such loving eyes.  She held on to us with her little legs just like she always did….Will she know?   Does she suspect something….?  What to do…..?  After much prayer and consideration, I came to the conclusion that just because she was breathing, she wasn’t living and if I were in her shoes, I would want to be held in the arms of someone who loved me, and gently and painlessly sent on my way to heaven.    And that is what I did and how it was. 

The loss of a pet is not unlike losing a family member.  You grieve deeply.   Grief for some is obvious.  There are tears and visible behavior which leaves no doubt about ones feelings of sorrow.  And then there is hidden grief.  Grief that is so intense and private that it is lies deep inside your being and can cause anguish and misery unlike anything anyone on the outside could possible know.   Sometimes, people feel both kinds of grief.  Sometimes they feel one or the other.  How they express grief doesn’t matter.  Grief is unhappiness in your soul. It hurts.

 Rest in peace my sweet little Peaches.  You gave us so much unconditional  love and joy and ple

asure!  I loved you so much.

     

PEOPLE WATCHING

I love to watch people when they don’t know that I’m watching them.  I don’t mean that I’m spying on them or anything like that.  I mean watching them at odd moments in time.  Like standing in line at the grocery store or maybe while I’m waiting at a red light.  It’s amazing what you might see!  And if only I could read lips!  Now that would really be neat! 

I remember when I used to sing in the choir, I would watch people in the congregation.  I couldn’t hear a word that the preacher was saying anyway because of my hearing loss, so I might as well amuse myself doing something during the sermon, so I would gaze at the people row by row and look at the expressions on their faces.   Oh, what a sight!  I often wondered if the people actually were trying to look so funny or it was just happenstance.  There would be those with their arms crossed like they was no way you were going to convince them of anything and their faces were just as determined.  Then those who were smiling like angels.  And of course, there would be the ones dozing with their chins on their chests or up in the air with mouths wide open.  I could spot them all and knew which ones would do which.    Some would be scoping out the crowd.  Checking on who was wearing what and who was with who.  It’s a great way to pass the time when you can’t hear in church.

Here's another great people watching place.  We have all seen the Walmart pictures circling the internet.  Well, they are pretty much for real.   Stand in line and look around you if you don’t believe it.  Then mosey on over to the local Dollar Store.  Nothing wrong with these folks.  They just march to different drums.  That's ok.

Then, there’s people watching in airports.  You get to see all kinds of folks there.  But then, we’re all different in some form or another to somebody else so I guess I probably looked equally as weird to some of them.  But, nevertheless, it’s a great way to spend an hour or two waiting for a plane to land just looking at people and how they sit, stand, squirm, twist, pick at their ears, noses, etc.  And the way they dress is always a hoot.  You can see some real Prada!

I got to thinking, if I’m watching folks and enjoying it so much, there just might be somebody out there watching me (God forbid) and I better try and clean up my act.  I need to watch my facial expressions and how I react to certain situations and probably smile a whole lot more when I’m in church and at the traffic light and Walmart.  Maybe even the airport.  Who knows, there just might be somebody important watching!

85 - SAY IT AIN'T SO!

Good grief!  How did I get here?……Turning 85 years old isn’t for sissies!   I’m a “wanna be” 50-year-old.  That’s right – 50-year-old!  I have no desire to go through all that hassle of hard knocks in life again.  Everybody goes through that; I don’t care what they say.  It’s a rite of passage for most every young adult.  You know the story.  We think we know everything, but we don’t have a clue.  Well, I’d just like to skip that part and be 50 years old and start from there again.    

It was somewhere around this age that I figured out I could actually do something other than cook, wash clothes, and raise a family and that it was alright to do it.  Prior to that, my entire married life had been wrapped up in the daily needs of my family, first and foremost.   Most of those years included working a job outside the home as well, so having time or energy for hobbies wasn’t an option.  The housework, going to work, ironing, polishing shoes, washing shoestrings, helping with homework, and all over again was my daily routine.   Then came the empty nest.   Who was I?

All of a sudden, I felt like a whole new world had opened up to me!  I wanted to learn how to do things that maybe I’d only thought about, or something I’d always wanted to do, but never had time.  I wanted to read more.  I wanted to volunteer and visit the elderly.  I had a real thirst for just learning, for the sheer knowledge of it.  Gardening, sewing, baking, books, art, choral music, travel, civic clubs and lots of things that I had not had an opportunity to be exposed to or participate in.  Even computers!  And the internet!  And then Google!  It was a miracle!  Life was wonderful!

Now I don’t want you to think that all this knowledge that I suddenly craved turned me into a walking encyclopedia or Queen of all things good.  Far from it!  I’m still dumb as a box of rocks and my attention span is about that of a five-year-old.  This is compounded by the fact that I was diagnosed with epilepsy a few years ago and will have to take anti-seizure medication for the rest of my life.  My claim to fame is that this medication is the whole reason I sometimes come across as somewhat goofy and therefore, it explains my occasional goofiness. But it hasn’t totally fried my brain and I still have the love for a good book, good music, beautiful flowers, antiques, especially textiles and fine needlework and exquisite silver.  I’m not an expert at anything and a master of nothing.  But I’ve managed to try just about everything on my bucket list and plan to keep trying.   

Age isn’t kind to most of us in many respects.  The miseries caused by natural processes now prohibit many of my exciting and fulfilling activities.  But I still love to learn.  I still find myself Googling words and phrases or looking for things that I hear about that I want to know more about.  My body doesn’t keep up with my mind as good as it used to.  And my mind doesn’t keep up with Google and the computer.  I don’t cook much, and my back doesn’t like to pull weeds and my fingers hurt when I sew.  My eyes don’t see as good to read, but I’m still doing my best to do all that I can.  What better way to laugh than to communicate and share funny stories with those you love!  Besides, I need to keep my smile muscles from atrophying. 

That, my friends, is what makes life worth living.  Doing something that gives you joy and creates in your mind and soul a peace and fulfillment that gives instant gratification.  Once that is gone, you lose a part of your life that is difficult to replace.  Sometimes, it is irreplaceable.    I’ve still got some living to do.  You only get to go around once.  

ENOUGH ALREADY!

Can we move on now?  Paula Deen has begged forgiveness from God and everybody in the whole world, including Matt Lauer, the hawk of  The Today Show, who kept needling her for that “gotcha” moment.  

I felt truly sorry for Paula as I watched Matt question her over and over while she tearfully tried to convince the whole world how she was raised.  I believe her.  I think she’s a good woman who loves to cook and from her past endorsements and success, I believe she’s good at what she does.  She’s not perfect.  Neither am I.  Neither are you. 

Why can’t we just leave it at that?  Enough already!  Done!  Over!  I hope Paula will leave it at that and move on.  Her actions will speak louder than her words just as they always have.

That’s my opinion and I’m sticking to it!

Summertime

Ahhhhh, summertime, and the livin’ is easy.  Growing up in small town America in the late 40’s and early 50’s, nobody took a summer vacation away from home.  At least nobody I knew.  A few families did have beach houses that they either owned or rented.  Not many.   So, I really didn’t think I was deprived of anything.  The community swimming pool was open from 1:00 p.m. until about supper time and that was as close as most folks got to a vacation.

I can still smell the chlorine now!  It was sparkling clear water and the place to be on a summer day.   It would be packed with kids of all ages.  There was a small pool where Mothers would take their little ones to play.  They would chat and visit all afternoon while the little ones played until they turned blue and shivered with cold.

Most of the time, I would have to walk to the pool.  It was several blocks from where I lived and summertime in southeastern Georgia is not for sissies.  The pavement would burn your feet to a crisp and the sandspurs would send you howling to the nearest emergency room if you weren’t careful so I hated to have to walk but I didn’t have a choice.  Walk or stay home.  Those were the choices in my day.    

The girls I knew would carefully roll up their Catalina, Rose Marie Reid, or Esther Williams (these were all the rage of the day) swim suits and bathing caps in a large beach towel.  They had to be rolled just right or the whole thing would unwind and your suit would fall out.  Or worse, if you wore your suit to the pool and chose to roll up your clothes in the towel, your underwear might wiggle its way right out of that towel in front of the whole crowd at the pool.  I had that happen more than once. 

There was a grassy area near the sliding board where we would spread our towels and lay out in the sun after we had slathered ourselves with baby oil mixed with iodine.  That was supposed to give you a drop dead gorgeous tan.  It gave me a drop dead awful sunburn which peeled off in huge ugly globs of skin and left a million freckles in its place.  Just what I needed to complete my drop dead gorgeous beauty! 

Shy Boy was always there and he and the other boys would compete for who could do the most flips off the diving board, which they weren’t supposed to be doing anyway.  Then they would stand on their hands, play tag, run, jump off the diving board, and do everything possible to gain the attention of all the girls sitting on their towels getting their gorgeous tans pretending not to notice.    

There was a little store where you could buy cokes and candy and a dressing room where you could shower and change and re-roll your towel.  It didn’t matter this time how you rolled it up.   It’s getting close to supper time and the pool closes soon.  Swimming all afternoon can make you mighty hungry!