September Stories

"Accidental Mondays"

I woke up this morning with a killer headache, and, dragging my feet, got ready for work. I took an Advil and left in plenty of time, hoping to feel better soon.
"Hi Anita,"said my boss when I got there.
"Today's your off day. Remember we had to change the schedule?"
Oh, yes, now I remember.

"A Real Dad"

I picked up my grandchildren yesterday to spend the afternoon with me. After lunch at McDonald's and a trip to the park we went to the nearby military post to get my grandson a haircut.
While we were waiting a soldier walked in pushing a baby stroller. When he sat down for his haircut, his two-month old daughter started whimpering. He reached into the diaper bag for her bottle and started to feed her while the barber cut his hair. After a few minutes one of the ladies who worked there took over the bottle feeding. It was the sweetest thing!


"Real Courage"

I met a retired nurse recently who truly inspired me with her own story. She had dropped out of school with only an 8th grade education, married and became the mother of five children. Many years later she decided to take her GED test. She passed the English part, but failed the Math portion of the test. Advised to take a manufacturing job at a local factory, she balked and went home to study, determined to get a passing grade. A week later she retook the test and passed! When her youngest was three years old and the oldest 11 she enrolled in college and eventually, nursing school, retiring after 30 years. And this from a shy and uneducated black girl who refused to give up. Now that's what I call courage.

"Porch Cleaning"



"The River"

After our trip to the barber shop and a side trip to get ice cream, the grandchildren and I drove down to the Tennessee River. They played on the playground and explored the boat dock. After a busy afternoon three very exhausted kids were ready to go home.

First Day of School

Tomorrow is my my middle granddaughter's first day of school.
She is already stressing about it.
"Mommy, what if I don't get up on time?
What if I have homework? I don't know how to do homework."
She has been listening too much to her older sister, who is working on her math homework on the second day of school (Kindergarten phases in the little ones). Older sister is a seasoned third-grader this year. My daughter told me of the conversation they had while getting their baths. She told "Teka" to explain to Allie why it was important to get plenty of sleep.

"You don't get to take naps in first grade. Oh, and there's no TV or naptime in Kindergarten either. Well, sometimes you get to watch a show, but once it's over, then it's over!"

"What show?"

"I don't know. That was like three or four years ago!"

Bless their little hearts.

Beach Vacation

I just returned from my vacation with my daughters and grandchildren. It's been five years since my last "real" vacation, so I was ready! The change of scenery did my spirit a world of good, as they say down here in the South.

This was the view from our condo in Panama Beach.

We were on the 4th floor, and I opened the door

to the balcony first thing in the morning

to take in the awesomeness of the ocean.

The grandchildren loved catching the ocean waves,

building sand castles and hunting for seashells.

My oldest granddaughter (she'll be 8 in two weeks)

is like a fish. We couldn't keep her out of the water!

.

                                                                 
                                                                   Destin

Beach front restaurant in Destin. We ate shrimp, crab legs,

and Salmon. Yummy! The kids got pails and shovels

with their meals. It was an hour wait, but they had a playground

on the beach for the children and the scenery was definitely 

worth the wait.

We took a boat ride to see some dolphins. We saw a few, but

had to look really close. The boat ride was relaxing

and the ocean breezes were refreshing

after the summer heat.

The seagulls came and ate right from our hands.

The kids thought it was the coolest thing.

Shell Island

The view on the way back to shore. Gorgeous.

Fence Posts

I have a chain link fence around my backyard. When we moved into our brand new home, my late husband dug the post holes one by one, and poured the concrete for the fence poles. It was a hard, sweaty job, and Don did a good job putting up the fence. However, after setting the first dozen poles we noticed that they were upside down! No problem. It would still work. The rest of the poles were set correctly. That was 25 years ago and the fence has held up. No one would be able to pick out the poles that were set upside down.

I thought of how often our Christian walk is like those fence posts. We make mistakes. We make bad choices. We are like those fence posts, upside down, until someone comes along (Jesus) and shows us the right way. And those mistakes are wiped out, erased, forgiven by our Lord and Savior.  No one can see the mistakes we have made. We are a new creation.
Thanks be to God.

Anita

Good-Byes and Promises

I went to two funerals last month. My aunt died at the end of April and two weeks later, to the day, my uncle's wife died at the young age of 52. For the second time in two weeks I drove the 90 miles to Tennessee.

Many of my relatives on my father's side still live among the rolling hills of middle Tennessee, where the scenery is picture postcard pretty. I wanted to stop and take pictures along the country roads, but we were in a time crunch. Oddly, I noticed many small buildings overgrown with weeds and grass, when I realized that these little out buildings were former outhouses.

The relatives came from nearby and  from far away. Alabama. Georgia. Virginia.
There was the young cousin from Savannah. Instantly I recognized her, even though we haven't seen each other in 15 years. Sunny (not her real name) is grown now, tall like her father, and has the honey-colored hair of her mother. She also inherited her father's cleft chin.  

Another distant cousin, two years older than me, grins at me, remembering when we were 10 and 12. I was the oldest in my family and he, the youngest. I tell him that he looks like Jimmy Carter, only more handsome. His wife, a pretty 50ish woman,  shares her email address and Facebook page and we promise to keep in touch.

"Jimmy" has a twin sister and she squeezes me in a real southern hug. She is flamboyant, dressed in bright colors, and extroverted. Her Mama, my great-aunt, 80ish, has perfectly coifed silver hair, and soft hands, holds my hands and doesn't let go. She lost her husband six years ago and is in the early stages of Dementia.

My uncle is shaken at the sudden death of his wife. He is lost without her. He has aged, and is thin and frail, and doesn't look like the Elvis look-alike of his youth. The girls were crazy about him and he would talk for hours on the black rotary dial telephone, before call waiting and message machines. His only child is a pretty young woman in her twenties and looks like her father when he was younger.

Then there is Jewel, who just lost her mother two weeks before. She has long, black hair and could pass as a Cherokee Indian. Her daughter, another beauty, graduated from high school this week.

Cousin Rusty stands quietly to the side. He is 50 and doesn't talk much. He is the sole survivor in his family. Thank God for his wife of 30 years. He is proud of his son, who recently graduated from college.

Another cousin, Billy, will perform the funeral. He is a preacher and an evangelist. His older brother has fought the devil his entire life, but Billy turned to God.

My sister and I catch up with everyone, trying to remember names and faces. We listen to stories and share some of our own. We talk nostalgically about long-ago family reunions and childhood memories. We hope to plan a reunion, under better circumstances, we tell each other.

It is night before we leave. One of our cousins and her family take us out to eat before we go. We linger, talking in the parking lot under the street lights. Finally, we say our good-byes. And promise to keep in touch.

I think of all the good-byes I've said through the years, and promises to keep in touch.

And my uncle's wife - she was a military veteran. She served in the Army when she was a young woman and returned home to these Tennessee hills at the end of her tour of duty.

Day is done, gone the sun
From the lakes, from the hills, from the skies
All is well, safely rest;
God is nigh.

(Taps)

This Memorial Day may we remember all of men and women who gave their lives for our country. God bless them all.

Blessings,

Anita

Watermelon Seeds

(I wrote this several years ago, when my children were young).

I was going on three years old when Mommy announced that I would soon be joined by a baby brother or sister. I had known something important was about to take place because Mommy's belly kept getting bigger and bigger, and she and Daddy kept referring to "the baby", and they obviously didn't mean me.

Daddy explained that Mommy had swallowed a watermelon seed. I loved watermelon, but didn't recall eating watermelon the whole time we lived in Germany, when Mommy's belly first started growing. I figured he was just pulling my leg.

Mommy said the baby was "due" around Christmas. My old crib was dusted off  and set up in my "playroom". Next, Mommy bought some brightly colored fabric and sewed curtains for the new nursery. My former "desk" became a changing table, completely outfitted with diapers, blankets, lotion and powder. The worse was yet to come. Mommy reclaimed all of my old baby clothes, which my dolls had been wearing, and left their wardrobes sadly depleted. They sat on my bed like raggedy orphans, just wating to catch a chill.

The baby, which turned out to be a girl, was finally born and came home on New Year's Day. She settled into our home rather smoothly, too quickly, in my opinion. Here was this little stranger that entered our lives and overnight became the center of attention. Where did I fit in, I wondered?

I slowly came around, especially when I found out all the good things my Mommy was feeding my baby sister. Mommy caught me more than once licking the spoon clean for my baby sister, but that didn't phase me one little bit! At the next feeding time I would be right there again, waiting to taste the carrots or banana pudding. What I really loved, though, was the baby bottle. Whenever I felt sleepy, I would sneak into the baby's room and take the bottle out of her crib.Once, Mommy found me hiding with the bottle, looking like the guilty culprit that I was. I got one of Mommy's "You know better than that" looks.

Still, Mommy noticed when I was feeling left out. She smiled and gave me a hug, reassuring me that she and Daddy loved me. That made me feel better.

I realized that I was now the older sister when my baby sister was strapped into the car seat and I was promoted to the seatbelt section. I had always hated that car seat, but it sure looked comfortable to me now. My beloved stroller also became the property of my little sister. I was fighting back tears on the day that Mommy took us for a walk and I had to walk alongside my old stroller. I deliberately gave Mommy a hard time, running ahead, or planting my feet in one spot and refusing to budge.

I'm four years old and I've learned to accept my little sister, sometimes grudgingly, but mostly lovingly. She's good at a number of things, like pinching, punching, pulling, pushing, that I admit she learned from me. But she's fun to play with, too, and Mommy says that I'll never be alone, since I have a baby sister. I have to look out for her, she tells me.
She'll probably always want to tag along, and I'll be advised by Mommy to share my toys and set a good example. There is one consolation, though. I was here first!

The American Dream

Antonio used to be a dishwasher. He came to the United States with a suitcase full of dreams, dreaming of a better life. He left his country in the middle of a civil war, leaving behind a job in the business world. His first job in the United States was as a dishwasher. He didn't speak any English. He struggled for the first few years, taking whatever job he could get to pay the bills. His wife got a job as a seamstress, sewing thousands of American flags each year.

Antonio has a good job now, with benefits, and looks forward to retiring in a few years. His English is almost impeccable and his accent barely noticable. Still, he uses his hands a lot of times to make his point, a habit that is hard to break from years of trying to communicate when English is your second language.

Antonio owns a home now. He pays taxes. He has a smart phone. He supports his family.
He wasn't born in this country, but he is one of many who has found the American Dream, a dream that is still real to many people.

I know Antonio. I shake his hand. He is an American.

Rest in Peace

My sister called me this morning to tell me that my father's younger sister passed away during the night. She was only 63, not much older than myself. My extended family members are scattered and because my grandparents are gone and because of life's circumstances, or whatever reason, it's hard to get people together, unless there is a wedding or a funeral. And that is where I usually run into a cousin or aunt that I haven't seen in years. It's sad, but true.
Now there will be another funeral to go to.

 You hear about people having a hard life. That was my aunt. Like many poor, Southern girls of her era, Aunt B. got married at 15. She had her first child at 16 and another one at 18. There was another one, too, in between, another boy, that died soon after birth. I remembered the day they buried that little baby, in a little country cemetary, up on a hill. It was raining and we children had to wait in the car while the grown-ups huddled under the umbrellas. And my aunt, only a girl herself, sobbed for the loss of her child.

Rest in peace, Aunt B.

Country Roads

It is chilly this April morning. I put on my pink fleece robe to go out and get the paper. It is a bright, beautiful, sunshiny morning.
Chilly mornings remind me of childhood visits to my grandparents' house in Tennessee. .
There was no central heat and air in their little house in the country. Grandma would get up early and rekindle the fire in the fireplace. We quickly got dressed in the morning and turned our backs to the fire to absorb the heat. Like many rural families they still had an outhouse. It was no picnic walking to the outhouse on a cold or rainy day.
Still, there was something so basic and so simple about those long ago days. I can remember Grandma kneading biscuit dough for breakfast and smell the strong coffee percolating on the stove. Grandpa would be puttering around outside, perhaps working under the hood of the car, or going fishing at the pond which was within walking distance. I went fishing with my parents, once, when a thunderstorm dropped out of the sky. I cut my leg on a barb wire fence trying to make it home through the storm.
The little house had a good view with fields and meadows in every direction. We played on the front porch and could see the storm clouds forming in the distance or the sun set in the evening. After a long, hard day of playing we fell asleep listening to the grown-ups talk in the front room, stepping gingerly across creaky floorboards.

Spring

I love Peter Rabbit!

My dyed eggs

A bird's nest that I found when trimming a shrub

The egg hunt

My granddaughter's birthday party

Can you guess what her favorite color and design is?

Every Kid Should...

I was listening to a popular radio station this morning. Every morning the DJ picks a topic or question and listeners call in with their opinions. This morning the question was "What is something that every child should experience?" A few of the answers were: camping, chores, driving an old clunker, etc. I didn't hear the rest of the show, but thought of several childhood experiences that no child should go without.

Every kid should discover storybooks and the love of reading

Every kid should ride a carousel

Every kid show blow lots of bubbles, every chance they can

Every kid should discover the fun of hiking in the woods

Every kid should visit a Pumpkin Patch in the fall

Every kid should visit a Petting Zoo and pet all of the animals

Every kid should jump into a pile of autumn leaves

Every kid needs to go to the park frequently

Every kid needs to enjoy a real snow day, especially if you live in the South

And of course, every kid needs to travel to the beach, preferably every summer

A Child of the 70's

My husband and I in Paris, 1978

I was a child of the 70's.

I wore bell-bottom jeans and embroidered, gauzy blouses, often with long beads around my neck.

I wore granny boots and tie-dyed t-shirts.

My hair was long, blonde and straight (the only decade where my thin, straight hair fit in), until I had to chop it off (see photo) when it was ruined by going in a swimming pool with too much chlorine. (It turned my hair green!!)

I often wore dark eyeliner and purple and blue eye shadow, but very little lipstick

I listened to the soothing sounds of Jim Croce and the Carpenters, and sang along with Carly Simon and Carol King; played John Denver and Bread on my stereo.

I also went to my share of rock concerts, most notably Chicago and Carlos Santana. We listened to Donna Summer and did the "Hustle".

It was the decade of "cool." My teachers were cool, too. They were hippies abroad, traveled extensively, were probably liberals in today's sense of the word, and taught us History and Social Studies against the background of yesterday's battlefields.

I loved the 70's. I graduated from high school in 1976 while living in Germany. It was a small DOD school for military dependents. Life was simpler then. We didn't have electronics. Unless you count 'boom boxes'. People actually called you on the phone. I took "Bookkeeping" in High School, an archaic subject nowadays. I also took Typing. At least that skill stayed with me.

I wanted to be a lawyer in the 70's. I love Law, Government, Politics, History, Philosophy, etc. I love a good debate.  My first job after High School was in a bank, so I became a banker instead.

I met my husband in 1977, in the Spring. It's funny how this time of year brings back those memories. We took little weekend trips to Paris, Amsterdam, Munich, etc.
We sampled the local wines in the villages along the Rhine River. When our daughter was born our landlord gave us a bottle of wine as a present. He owned a vineyard.
The 1970's were cool. After I had written this post I thought of all the sweet memories I had. And no wonder that Spring is a bittersweet time because I met my husband in April and lost him in April, too.
What decade brings back memories for you?

Blessings,
Anita

Cherry Blossoms

The cherry blossoms are in bloom at at the park.

It was a perfect day to take the grandchildren 

to feed the ducks...

or sit and watch the fish...

This is the Japanese bridge.

A perfect day.