Addictions, Part 2
(I may be writing spasmodically for the next few weeks, but I will return on a regular basis toward the end of November.)
I recently asked at the dinner table, “When does a harmless activity become an addiction?” The consensus was when it interfered with the more important events in life. According to Encarta, one of the definitions of the word is “great interest in a particular thing to which a lot of time is devoted.” Not as strong as the other definition: “a state of physiological or psychological dependence on a potentially harmful drug.” My latest addiction falls somewhere in between the two.
Interestingly enough, the first definition, which I think is a little weak, gives an example in Encarta of internet addiction. I’m not saying that I’m addicted to the internet even though I enjoy being online; no, my obsession or compulsion is fixed on what I get from the internet: computer games. I LOVE to play all kinds of games like Snood, Atlantis Quest, Amazonia, Magic Match, you name it. I can and do sit for hours playing all types of games -- action, word games, card games, trivia, etc. And I plead guilty to staying and playing these things when I should be cleaning house, cooking, or any other unpleasant but necessary endeavor.
But, unfortunately, this is not my only addiction. There’s also reading. I can get into a good novel and be so fixed on it that I’m just “not much account” as my mother used to say, until I finish it. Almost certainly, the beds don’t get made right away while I’m caught up with characters and plot, etc.
And shopping. I can get such a high from buying a new outfit! And now that I’ve discovered shopping online, that’s a whole new ball game. I can spend hours going over catalogues and then ordering or just going to the website and browsing. This is one that is fading, however, because now that I’ve retired, I can’t afford to buy much.
I’m happy to say that I’m NOT addicted to TV. In fact, I rarely ever watch it or read a newspaper. Most of my news comes from the internet.
So all this is to say (or write) that I’m still not sure that any of these leisure activities are addictions per se. It could more readily be argued that I just don’t like to do housework. When I taught school, my job was my first priority; I didn’t spend hours playing games on the computer when I had classes to prepare or papers to grade. It’s only since I have free time that I might be found pursuing pastimes I enjoy.
And isn’t that what retirement is all about? Haven’t I earned the right after all those years of working and housewifery and mothering to relax and enjoy life? Answer: If it doesn’t interfere with the more important things of life.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Addictions
My First Addiction
I was nine years old when I smoked my first cigarette. A neighborhood friend and I “borrowed” a package of smokes (unfiltered Pall Mall) from her mother and went to the woods in back of our houses and had an afternoon of fun. We pretended we were glamorous movie stars holding forth in some exotic Hollywood setting. Of course, we didn’t inhale, didn’t even know you were supposed to, but we had a ball letting our imaginations run wild.
Of course, her mother discovered the loss (duh!), and told me she wouldn’t tell my mother if I would promise not to do it again. In my mind, I was promising not to steal anymore from her, not to stop the smoking. Anyway, I didn’t steal any more cigarettes from her.
I soon discovered that I had two more friends on the next street who were just as adventurous as I was, maybe more so. One of them took a package of her father’s Home Runs (do you know how STRONG that brand was? I have heard them compared to Picayune’s and those almost knocked me down when I tried one as an adult.) Again, we didn’t inhale.
This type of activity continued until I was thirteen and out riding with my older sister (MA) and her boyfriend one Sunday afternoon. He took out his pack and offered it to us two girls. I said cockily, “I’d like one.” So he gave me one and when I had it going well, he asked me if I knew how to inhale. I said I didn’t, so he told me to take a big mouthful of smoke, open my mouth slightly, and breathe in. I followed his directions and began coughing violently. He thought that was really funny, but as I watched him, that’s exactly what he was doing!! I became so intrigued that I decided then and there to learn how. And eventually I did.
By the time I was in high school, I would sneak a cigarette or two at another friend’s house who had a room on the second floor that was away from the rest of the house. We could blow the smoke out of the window and somehow, we got away with it many times.
Then one night at a high school basketball game I was sitting with three other girls who said they wanted to leave at half time for a little while. Thinking they were going to get something to eat, I asked if I could go, too. I noticed that they hesitated a second and said, “Sure, come on.” The four of us got into the car and we drove to Green Hills Theater and parked behind it. Then they pulled out the surprise – they were having a smoke break and tried to swear me to secrecy. I laughed and asked for one too, and they could see that this was not the first time for me either. (Why was it that I always seemed to be drawn to other smokers?)
I kept up the intermittent smoking throughout high school, but when I hit the college scene, the nice little pastime became a full blown addiction. It was twelve years when I was thirty before I was able to kick it. I have to say that it was one of the biggest pleasures for me and to this day, I am still tempted to do it.
My First Addiction
I was nine years old when I smoked my first cigarette. A neighborhood friend and I “borrowed” a package of smokes (unfiltered Pall Mall) from her mother and went to the woods in back of our houses and had an afternoon of fun. We pretended we were glamorous movie stars holding forth in some exotic Hollywood setting. Of course, we didn’t inhale, didn’t even know you were supposed to, but we had a ball letting our imaginations run wild.
Of course, her mother discovered the loss (duh!), and told me she wouldn’t tell my mother if I would promise not to do it again. In my mind, I was promising not to steal anymore from her, not to stop the smoking. Anyway, I didn’t steal any more cigarettes from her.
I soon discovered that I had two more friends on the next street who were just as adventurous as I was, maybe more so. One of them took a package of her father’s Home Runs (do you know how STRONG that brand was? I have heard them compared to Picayune’s and those almost knocked me down when I tried one as an adult.) Again, we didn’t inhale.
This type of activity continued until I was thirteen and out riding with my older sister (MA) and her boyfriend one Sunday afternoon. He took out his pack and offered it to us two girls. I said cockily, “I’d like one.” So he gave me one and when I had it going well, he asked me if I knew how to inhale. I said I didn’t, so he told me to take a big mouthful of smoke, open my mouth slightly, and breathe in. I followed his directions and began coughing violently. He thought that was really funny, but as I watched him, that’s exactly what he was doing!! I became so intrigued that I decided then and there to learn how. And eventually I did.
By the time I was in high school, I would sneak a cigarette or two at another friend’s house who had a room on the second floor that was away from the rest of the house. We could blow the smoke out of the window and somehow, we got away with it many times.
Then one night at a high school basketball game I was sitting with three other girls who said they wanted to leave at half time for a little while. Thinking they were going to get something to eat, I asked if I could go, too. I noticed that they hesitated a second and said, “Sure, come on.” The four of us got into the car and we drove to Green Hills Theater and parked behind it. Then they pulled out the surprise – they were having a smoke break and tried to swear me to secrecy. I laughed and asked for one too, and they could see that this was not the first time for me either. (Why was it that I always seemed to be drawn to other smokers?)
I kept up the intermittent smoking throughout high school, but when I hit the college scene, the nice little pastime became a full blown addiction. It was twelve years when I was thirty before I was able to kick it. I have to say that it was one of the biggest pleasures for me and to this day, I am still tempted to do it.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
The Closet
When I was barely two years old we moved into a brand new house, my parents’ first one to own. I think back now on the number of closets we had and wonder how we found room for anything, much less all those evening gowns we began to accumulate. There was a little square box of a closet in each of three bedrooms, one linen closet in the bathroom, and one tiny one in the hall. And that was it! We did have a full basement and a floored attic, so I know we had some storage space. And we certainly didn’t have anywhere near the amount of possessions we have now. Somehow, we made do.
But when I was nine years old, we finished off the upstairs by adding two bedrooms, a bath, and a roomy upstairs hall big enough to hold Mother’s old Singer sewing machine. And off of that hall was THE CLOSET. Yes, Mother had had the foresight to include a huge walk-in closet with a rod that was high enough to hold all of the formal dresses.
It also had built-in shelves that housed all the goodies that decorated them. There were velvet ribbons, artificial flowers, lace, satin trimmings, sequins, beads, etc. It was a little girl’s paradise – I loved to play with all the fabric and decorations.
Also, Mother was wise enough to let us make doll clothes or whatever we wanted to attempt out of the scraps of material. As a result of her patience and insight, all three of us learned to sew and began to make lots of our clothes while we were still in high school. I even made a formal myself once when she was out of town. I remember paying $6.00 for the material, and Daddy thought that was too much. But I finished the dress and wore it to some dance.
The closet was a magical place for anyone. I can still recall all those dresses made of nylon net, chiffon, taffeta, satin, or velvet. One of our favorite dresses was a black cotton print trimmed in white eyelet lace around the top and bottom. We all wore it at some point. And the colors: there were all shades of pastels, reds, whites, dark rich blues and greens. The black and white photographs we always received didn’t do them justice.
We’ve all wondered what Mother did with all of those wonderful dresses. I believe she eventually gave them away when they moved to a new house. Oh, to have just one of them now, or even better -- to have a day back inside that special room.
When I was barely two years old we moved into a brand new house, my parents’ first one to own. I think back now on the number of closets we had and wonder how we found room for anything, much less all those evening gowns we began to accumulate. There was a little square box of a closet in each of three bedrooms, one linen closet in the bathroom, and one tiny one in the hall. And that was it! We did have a full basement and a floored attic, so I know we had some storage space. And we certainly didn’t have anywhere near the amount of possessions we have now. Somehow, we made do.
But when I was nine years old, we finished off the upstairs by adding two bedrooms, a bath, and a roomy upstairs hall big enough to hold Mother’s old Singer sewing machine. And off of that hall was THE CLOSET. Yes, Mother had had the foresight to include a huge walk-in closet with a rod that was high enough to hold all of the formal dresses.
It also had built-in shelves that housed all the goodies that decorated them. There were velvet ribbons, artificial flowers, lace, satin trimmings, sequins, beads, etc. It was a little girl’s paradise – I loved to play with all the fabric and decorations.
Also, Mother was wise enough to let us make doll clothes or whatever we wanted to attempt out of the scraps of material. As a result of her patience and insight, all three of us learned to sew and began to make lots of our clothes while we were still in high school. I even made a formal myself once when she was out of town. I remember paying $6.00 for the material, and Daddy thought that was too much. But I finished the dress and wore it to some dance.
The closet was a magical place for anyone. I can still recall all those dresses made of nylon net, chiffon, taffeta, satin, or velvet. One of our favorite dresses was a black cotton print trimmed in white eyelet lace around the top and bottom. We all wore it at some point. And the colors: there were all shades of pastels, reds, whites, dark rich blues and greens. The black and white photographs we always received didn’t do them justice.
We’ve all wondered what Mother did with all of those wonderful dresses. I believe she eventually gave them away when they moved to a new house. Oh, to have just one of them now, or even better -- to have a day back inside that special room.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
More Dancing
In reading over yesterday’s entry, I was struck by two facts. The first was how shamelessly we used the guys to get dates to dances or any other big party going on. I’m embarrassed about my actions, but it was the way things were in the fifties. Every girl I knew did the same. I daresay the boys did a little using also.
The second thing I noticed is how trusting I was about going out with a virtual stranger. When the genius was getting his Master’s degree in engineering, we used to laugh over a fictional character in the student newspaper: Letch Feeley. That guy I so readily accepted a date with could have been a Letch Feeley for all I knew. But trusting boys was what we girls did, another sign of the times.
But back to the dances. My sisters and I certainly enjoyed the great all night affairs which these parties were. After the dance, which as a rule ended at either 1:00 or 2:00, depending on the time of year, we would all go home – but not to sleep. We changed into comfortable clothes, usually jeans, and drove out the highway to Mrs. Brown’s, a restaurant where we had breakfast. And yes, there was more dancing to a combo we had hired. It was not out of the ordinary for us to stay out until 5:00 or 6:00 in the morning. Our parents worried, I’m sure, but not about drugs or alcohol back then. They were more concerned about fast or sleepy drivers.
Sometimes we would come home, fall into the bed, and sleep until 1:00 or 2:00 and then get up and do the same the next night. I remember BJ doing that three nights in a row once during the Christmas holidays.
After one such night, we had all slept late, but amazingly, I was up before BJ. One of her friends called her and when I answered, she began telling me all about her date of the night before. She was somewhat plain looking and hadn’t gone out very much with boys, and it had been her first date with this guy. She was a senior and I was a measly freshman, so I was surprised at her friendliness until it dawned on me that she thought I was BJ!! I was too far into the conversation to stop her and she began asking me for advice.
“We have another date tonight,” she said excitedly. “Do you think I should let him kiss me if he tries?” So that little fourteen year old with all her “wisdom” said, “Well, I think it would be all right if you really like him.” I was aware that most of us girls usually had a third date rule, so I took a big chance telling her that. I’m happy to report that that couple eventually married and were still in that blissful state the last time I heard. I had to do some fast talking to BJ when she awoke and tell her exactly what had transpired.
Those were wonderful years, albeit there were problems, of course. But when I look at the teenage and school situations today, I long for those sane, happy times where all we had to worry about was what to wear and whether the dreamboat would ask us out.
In reading over yesterday’s entry, I was struck by two facts. The first was how shamelessly we used the guys to get dates to dances or any other big party going on. I’m embarrassed about my actions, but it was the way things were in the fifties. Every girl I knew did the same. I daresay the boys did a little using also.
The second thing I noticed is how trusting I was about going out with a virtual stranger. When the genius was getting his Master’s degree in engineering, we used to laugh over a fictional character in the student newspaper: Letch Feeley. That guy I so readily accepted a date with could have been a Letch Feeley for all I knew. But trusting boys was what we girls did, another sign of the times.
But back to the dances. My sisters and I certainly enjoyed the great all night affairs which these parties were. After the dance, which as a rule ended at either 1:00 or 2:00, depending on the time of year, we would all go home – but not to sleep. We changed into comfortable clothes, usually jeans, and drove out the highway to Mrs. Brown’s, a restaurant where we had breakfast. And yes, there was more dancing to a combo we had hired. It was not out of the ordinary for us to stay out until 5:00 or 6:00 in the morning. Our parents worried, I’m sure, but not about drugs or alcohol back then. They were more concerned about fast or sleepy drivers.
Sometimes we would come home, fall into the bed, and sleep until 1:00 or 2:00 and then get up and do the same the next night. I remember BJ doing that three nights in a row once during the Christmas holidays.
After one such night, we had all slept late, but amazingly, I was up before BJ. One of her friends called her and when I answered, she began telling me all about her date of the night before. She was somewhat plain looking and hadn’t gone out very much with boys, and it had been her first date with this guy. She was a senior and I was a measly freshman, so I was surprised at her friendliness until it dawned on me that she thought I was BJ!! I was too far into the conversation to stop her and she began asking me for advice.
“We have another date tonight,” she said excitedly. “Do you think I should let him kiss me if he tries?” So that little fourteen year old with all her “wisdom” said, “Well, I think it would be all right if you really like him.” I was aware that most of us girls usually had a third date rule, so I took a big chance telling her that. I’m happy to report that that couple eventually married and were still in that blissful state the last time I heard. I had to do some fast talking to BJ when she awoke and tell her exactly what had transpired.
Those were wonderful years, albeit there were problems, of course. But when I look at the teenage and school situations today, I long for those sane, happy times where all we had to worry about was what to wear and whether the dreamboat would ask us out.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Dancing, Fifties Style
Writing about my sisters and me brought to mind a facet of growing up in our end of town. Many of the high school students were involved in the sorority-fraternity system that was in place at that time. MA led the way for us by pledging one group of girls, and BJ and I eventually followed along by doing the same.
There were five fraternities and about eight sororities and each one hosted two formal dances a year. If a girl was lucky enough to attend all the boys’ balls and her own girls’, she could conceivably go to thirteen dances per year. (I’m counting the prom at school which I must say was rather anti-climactic after all the others). It was a girl’s dream to be invited to as many of them as she could and we three sisters connived to do just that.
We didn’t care who the date was because you rarely saw each other during the night. There were always plenty of “stags” at each party to “break in” on a girl, and if she got a “good rush” (that’s what we meant if lots of boys danced with you during the night), it was a successful dance. I remember once when I was a freshman, I received a phone call that went something like this:
“Hello?”
“Peggy, this is _____ ______.”
“Oh, hi!” like he was just the one I had been waiting to hear from when, in fact, I had never heard of him.
“I was wondering if you would go to the Alpha Chi dance with me.”
“I would love to!” I gushed.
And so it went.
(I had someone point him out to me the next day and actually, he was cute, so that was icing on the cake.)
All of these dances meant many formal dresses. The fashion back then was the GWTW style with big hoop skirts and starched petticoats underneath the dress. So how in the world did we have enough of those dresses with huge billowing skirts and strapless tops? My mother was very resourceful, as I’ve said before. She made them all.
And she really turned them out in nothing flat. I can remember walking in one afternoon after school and she was on the living room floor cutting out the dress I was to wear that night!!! And she made it in time, too. She was also very clever at remaking dresses with just a few decorations here and there and the dress looked new!
So that was how she dressed three daughters for the formal dances, but where do you store that many dresses made out of so much fabric? That’s another story.
Writing about my sisters and me brought to mind a facet of growing up in our end of town. Many of the high school students were involved in the sorority-fraternity system that was in place at that time. MA led the way for us by pledging one group of girls, and BJ and I eventually followed along by doing the same.
There were five fraternities and about eight sororities and each one hosted two formal dances a year. If a girl was lucky enough to attend all the boys’ balls and her own girls’, she could conceivably go to thirteen dances per year. (I’m counting the prom at school which I must say was rather anti-climactic after all the others). It was a girl’s dream to be invited to as many of them as she could and we three sisters connived to do just that.
We didn’t care who the date was because you rarely saw each other during the night. There were always plenty of “stags” at each party to “break in” on a girl, and if she got a “good rush” (that’s what we meant if lots of boys danced with you during the night), it was a successful dance. I remember once when I was a freshman, I received a phone call that went something like this:
“Hello?”
“Peggy, this is _____ ______.”
“Oh, hi!” like he was just the one I had been waiting to hear from when, in fact, I had never heard of him.
“I was wondering if you would go to the Alpha Chi dance with me.”
“I would love to!” I gushed.
And so it went.
(I had someone point him out to me the next day and actually, he was cute, so that was icing on the cake.)
All of these dances meant many formal dresses. The fashion back then was the GWTW style with big hoop skirts and starched petticoats underneath the dress. So how in the world did we have enough of those dresses with huge billowing skirts and strapless tops? My mother was very resourceful, as I’ve said before. She made them all.
And she really turned them out in nothing flat. I can remember walking in one afternoon after school and she was on the living room floor cutting out the dress I was to wear that night!!! And she made it in time, too. She was also very clever at remaking dresses with just a few decorations here and there and the dress looked new!
So that was how she dressed three daughters for the formal dances, but where do you store that many dresses made out of so much fabric? That’s another story.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Vacationing in the Mountains
My family took very few family vacations when my sisters and I were young. Besides the two trips to Florida, I remember one other one. It was the summer before my sophomore year in high school. BJ would be starting to college in the fall where MA was a senior.
This time we went to Gatlinburg and the Smoky Mountains. The thing I remember most about this trip was that the two sisters and I dressed very similarly. We wore shorts and shirts, and somewhere along the way bought hats that matched. Our hair was short and when we put those hats on with sunglasses, we looked just alike. We were asked several times if we were triplets. I can’t tell you what that did to me, the younger sister of these two.
Both BJ and MA were very pretty and popular in high school. MA was a cheerleader, homecoming queen, and was voted “Best Looking” in her class. BJ was captain of the cheerleaders, homecoming attendant, and voted “Most Popular” by her classmates until her senior year when she was “Best All Around.” They were certainly hard acts to follow. So to be mistaken for a triplet with them was the best compliment I could receive.
We stayed in a little cabin in the woods, part of Ruff’s Motel, while we were in Gatlinburg. Once again, Mother was careful about our food, and we only ate out at night, which was a real treat for us. We almost never ate meals out at home. I also remember swimming in the coldest swimming pool I had ever been in in that little mountain town. Someone said it was spring fed and never got warm, so we couldn’t bear to stay in it for long.
Actually, Gatlinburg was only a stop on the way to bigger and better things. We were headed to Ashville, NC, to the Grove Park Inn where Daddy had some kind of convention with Met Life, his company. It is a beautiful old hotel nestled in the Appalachian Mountains with wonderful views. The weather was great, and we had a glorious time—no homemade meals there.
I do remember a formal dance, however, where my newly inflated ego was jolted back into reality. MA and BJ were dancing with boys they had met, and here I was, the skinny wallflower, sitting with my parents. Finally, Daddy, who didn’t care for dancing at all, led me out onto the floor. Looking back on it, that was a wonderful thing he did for me, and I appreciate it so much more now than I did then.
That trip was to be our last family vacation together. MA married the following summer and left the nest. But it was a great one and I wish I could scan and transfer the photo I still have of the three of us sisters with our dress-alike outfits on.
My family took very few family vacations when my sisters and I were young. Besides the two trips to Florida, I remember one other one. It was the summer before my sophomore year in high school. BJ would be starting to college in the fall where MA was a senior.
This time we went to Gatlinburg and the Smoky Mountains. The thing I remember most about this trip was that the two sisters and I dressed very similarly. We wore shorts and shirts, and somewhere along the way bought hats that matched. Our hair was short and when we put those hats on with sunglasses, we looked just alike. We were asked several times if we were triplets. I can’t tell you what that did to me, the younger sister of these two.
Both BJ and MA were very pretty and popular in high school. MA was a cheerleader, homecoming queen, and was voted “Best Looking” in her class. BJ was captain of the cheerleaders, homecoming attendant, and voted “Most Popular” by her classmates until her senior year when she was “Best All Around.” They were certainly hard acts to follow. So to be mistaken for a triplet with them was the best compliment I could receive.
We stayed in a little cabin in the woods, part of Ruff’s Motel, while we were in Gatlinburg. Once again, Mother was careful about our food, and we only ate out at night, which was a real treat for us. We almost never ate meals out at home. I also remember swimming in the coldest swimming pool I had ever been in in that little mountain town. Someone said it was spring fed and never got warm, so we couldn’t bear to stay in it for long.
Actually, Gatlinburg was only a stop on the way to bigger and better things. We were headed to Ashville, NC, to the Grove Park Inn where Daddy had some kind of convention with Met Life, his company. It is a beautiful old hotel nestled in the Appalachian Mountains with wonderful views. The weather was great, and we had a glorious time—no homemade meals there.
I do remember a formal dance, however, where my newly inflated ego was jolted back into reality. MA and BJ were dancing with boys they had met, and here I was, the skinny wallflower, sitting with my parents. Finally, Daddy, who didn’t care for dancing at all, led me out onto the floor. Looking back on it, that was a wonderful thing he did for me, and I appreciate it so much more now than I did then.
That trip was to be our last family vacation together. MA married the following summer and left the nest. But it was a great one and I wish I could scan and transfer the photo I still have of the three of us sisters with our dress-alike outfits on.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Vacating Hearth and Home
I don’t think there’s anyone alive who likes vacations better than I do. From the time when I was a toddler, I loved to spend time with my family away from home. It was such an adventure to pack up and hit the road with great anticipation.
When I was quite young, we spent most of our times away from home in Mississippi with our grandparents. (See Mississippi Memories) But when I was about eight or nine, we took our first journey to Florida to visit my mother’s second or third cousins. On the way down to Orlando where Bob and Pat (Bob was the wife) lived, we stopped overnight in Panama City. I seem to recall that we tried to find a hotel or motel, but couldn’t find one so we stayed in a “tourist home.” It was something like a boarding house, but you rented a room or two for the night.
My mother was resourceful with our food. We had a cooler that held milk and other refrigerated items so we could have cereal for breakfast. As I recall, we also made our lunch on the road. (There were no fast food places at all yet, of course.) We always looked for a church yard to picnic in, why I don’t know unless my parents considered it safe.
Then it was on to Orlando. I have several memories of that first trip. First, Orlando had lots of lakes in which to swim (someone said 32 inside the city limits, but that may have been wrong, and why do I remember little tidbits like that?) So we would go swimming just about every day in one of them. I vividly recall that I had not really learned to swim yet and my father kept trying to teach me. But we loved it.
Bob and Pat seemingly loved having us, but as an adult, I seriously wonder if that were true. Bob was a jolly rotund lady who laughed a lot and seemed to enjoy us kids. My older two sisters and I slept on a screened in back porch off of the kitchen. They slept at one end and I was at the other. During the night I noticed that someone was in the kitchen I assumed to get some water. But they kept standing there and I became quite frightened. I proceeded to try to awaken my sisters without the “intruder” hearing, but they were sound asleep. Finally, it became light enough and I could see that the “person” was a coat rack with a coat ant hat on it.
We drove over to Daytona Beach one day and that was our first experience at the ocean. We were completely enthralled and loved playing in it . Our poor mother, though, who had red hair and the skin to go with it, would get burned just sitting in the shade all day. And the rest of us with no sun screen, of course, would relish the fact that we were getting a good tan.
That was a great trip. We went back the next year too, and M.A., my sister six years older, took her boyfriend. I don’t remember where he slept, and honestly, in looking back, I’m amazed that Mother and Daddy invited him to come with us. He was fun, though, and we enjoyed having him along.
Those first two vacations were wonderful and hold many happy memories.
I don’t think there’s anyone alive who likes vacations better than I do. From the time when I was a toddler, I loved to spend time with my family away from home. It was such an adventure to pack up and hit the road with great anticipation.
When I was quite young, we spent most of our times away from home in Mississippi with our grandparents. (See Mississippi Memories) But when I was about eight or nine, we took our first journey to Florida to visit my mother’s second or third cousins. On the way down to Orlando where Bob and Pat (Bob was the wife) lived, we stopped overnight in Panama City. I seem to recall that we tried to find a hotel or motel, but couldn’t find one so we stayed in a “tourist home.” It was something like a boarding house, but you rented a room or two for the night.
My mother was resourceful with our food. We had a cooler that held milk and other refrigerated items so we could have cereal for breakfast. As I recall, we also made our lunch on the road. (There were no fast food places at all yet, of course.) We always looked for a church yard to picnic in, why I don’t know unless my parents considered it safe.
Then it was on to Orlando. I have several memories of that first trip. First, Orlando had lots of lakes in which to swim (someone said 32 inside the city limits, but that may have been wrong, and why do I remember little tidbits like that?) So we would go swimming just about every day in one of them. I vividly recall that I had not really learned to swim yet and my father kept trying to teach me. But we loved it.
Bob and Pat seemingly loved having us, but as an adult, I seriously wonder if that were true. Bob was a jolly rotund lady who laughed a lot and seemed to enjoy us kids. My older two sisters and I slept on a screened in back porch off of the kitchen. They slept at one end and I was at the other. During the night I noticed that someone was in the kitchen I assumed to get some water. But they kept standing there and I became quite frightened. I proceeded to try to awaken my sisters without the “intruder” hearing, but they were sound asleep. Finally, it became light enough and I could see that the “person” was a coat rack with a coat ant hat on it.
We drove over to Daytona Beach one day and that was our first experience at the ocean. We were completely enthralled and loved playing in it . Our poor mother, though, who had red hair and the skin to go with it, would get burned just sitting in the shade all day. And the rest of us with no sun screen, of course, would relish the fact that we were getting a good tan.
That was a great trip. We went back the next year too, and M.A., my sister six years older, took her boyfriend. I don’t remember where he slept, and honestly, in looking back, I’m amazed that Mother and Daddy invited him to come with us. He was fun, though, and we enjoyed having him along.
Those first two vacations were wonderful and hold many happy memories.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
The Trouble With Being Last In Line
I recently copied this quote from an article I was reading online about birth order: “and the youngest tends to be the most creative and wildest of the group.” Since Brenda and I are both the last born in our families, this phrase made me stop and think.
I wouldn’t call myself creative, although others have. I feel like I get most of my ideas from others and just incorporate them into my own. Brenda, however, I would say is definitely imaginative and resourceful all on her own. If I described her house with its color combinations, you would probably think the affect would be rather bizarre. But it’s not; the overall result is very attractive and unique. She could have easily had a career in interior decorating, but she chose to concentrate on the other side of her brain instead.
Brenda can also cook in the gourmet style; she’s not crazy about turning out the ordinary everyday stuff, but if she decides to have a party, the creative side comes out in full force. She will spend hours on a cake shaped like a hat (for Easter, for example) decorated with all kinds of flowers, usually real. And the appetizers she whips up are to die for. I could and would hire her as a caterer if she decided to do this full time.
So I’ll agree with the first adjective to describe Brenda, but “wild” is not one I would affix to either one of us. Oh, we both like to kick up our heels and have a good time, but “wild” sounds over the top. We just have a rebellious streak sometimes that usually shows up when someone tells us we “have to do something.” Those are just naturally fighting words to us.
She and I have been trying all our lives to be unique, different from our older siblings so we will be noticed, I suppose, first by our parents, then by others. And this tendency to oppose authority or certain conventions has gotten us into trouble.
In Brenda’s case, however, I see a real strength emerging from her struggles. She has learned coping skills that many adults never acquire, and this has helped her in dealing with any problems that arise as a single mother of two teenagers.
The genius and I are very proud of her accomplishments and immensely admire her perseverance in dealing with the difficulties in her life.
I recently copied this quote from an article I was reading online about birth order: “and the youngest tends to be the most creative and wildest of the group.” Since Brenda and I are both the last born in our families, this phrase made me stop and think.
I wouldn’t call myself creative, although others have. I feel like I get most of my ideas from others and just incorporate them into my own. Brenda, however, I would say is definitely imaginative and resourceful all on her own. If I described her house with its color combinations, you would probably think the affect would be rather bizarre. But it’s not; the overall result is very attractive and unique. She could have easily had a career in interior decorating, but she chose to concentrate on the other side of her brain instead.
Brenda can also cook in the gourmet style; she’s not crazy about turning out the ordinary everyday stuff, but if she decides to have a party, the creative side comes out in full force. She will spend hours on a cake shaped like a hat (for Easter, for example) decorated with all kinds of flowers, usually real. And the appetizers she whips up are to die for. I could and would hire her as a caterer if she decided to do this full time.
So I’ll agree with the first adjective to describe Brenda, but “wild” is not one I would affix to either one of us. Oh, we both like to kick up our heels and have a good time, but “wild” sounds over the top. We just have a rebellious streak sometimes that usually shows up when someone tells us we “have to do something.” Those are just naturally fighting words to us.
She and I have been trying all our lives to be unique, different from our older siblings so we will be noticed, I suppose, first by our parents, then by others. And this tendency to oppose authority or certain conventions has gotten us into trouble.
In Brenda’s case, however, I see a real strength emerging from her struggles. She has learned coping skills that many adults never acquire, and this has helped her in dealing with any problems that arise as a single mother of two teenagers.
The genius and I are very proud of her accomplishments and immensely admire her perseverance in dealing with the difficulties in her life.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
The Blue Sponge
When the genius was working for IBM a co-worker and he became engaged in a little game between the two of them involving a piece of blue sponge. It seems that one of the packing materials regularly delivered to the office included a 24 inch square of blue sponge that was about ½ inch thick. His colleague Tom first conceived the idea of cramming one into one of the genius’s file drawers so that when he opened it, the sponge jumped out at him. Never one to be outdone, the genius waited a while and did the same thing to Tom.
Then the blue sponge began to appear in odd places at different times – sometimes a desk drawer, sometimes in a file folder, or even in one’s brief case, always at long enough intervals to keep the element of surprise in it. They became quite clever at devising new ways to shock each other. But eventually, Tom moved to another city.
Several months later, the genius received in the mail a large manila envelope containing nothing but a dismembered blue sponge cut into multiple pieces. But the genius had the last word after all. He emailed Tom with a message typed in blue and filling the whole screen with the words “blue sponge. . .blue sponge . . . blue sponge,” etc. Tom wrote back that somehow an electronic blue sponge just wasn’t the same. And that was the last of the blue sponge.
Why did I digress from Brenda to write about such a silly series of events? Because Ashley and I have our own version of the game, and today she GOT me!
Several years ago there was a movie out starring Hugh Grant as the Prime Minister of England, and Ashley and I happened to see it together. I can’t remember the title exactly, but it had the word “actually” in it. There was an aging rock star in the movie trying to make a come back with a really annoying song that stays on your mind if you ever get it on there.
Ashley and I began to surprise each other by calling on the phone and singing the first lines to each other. I think we even went out and bought the stupid CD so we could play the real thing. We always tried to do it at a time when we knew the other wouldn’t be at home so we could leave it on the answering machine.
Then we began to get creative with the computer – we would send the URL for the single or just the opening words. Ashley even sent me the DVD for Christmas one year. This morning she was out in her car when she heard the song on the radio. She quickly called me and held the phone up to the speaker. But I assume that she had the top down on her convertible because I couldn’t hear the words. So I’m not sure it counts.
But just in case it did, here is my reply. “I feel it in my fingers, Feel it in my toes!”
When the genius was working for IBM a co-worker and he became engaged in a little game between the two of them involving a piece of blue sponge. It seems that one of the packing materials regularly delivered to the office included a 24 inch square of blue sponge that was about ½ inch thick. His colleague Tom first conceived the idea of cramming one into one of the genius’s file drawers so that when he opened it, the sponge jumped out at him. Never one to be outdone, the genius waited a while and did the same thing to Tom.
Then the blue sponge began to appear in odd places at different times – sometimes a desk drawer, sometimes in a file folder, or even in one’s brief case, always at long enough intervals to keep the element of surprise in it. They became quite clever at devising new ways to shock each other. But eventually, Tom moved to another city.
Several months later, the genius received in the mail a large manila envelope containing nothing but a dismembered blue sponge cut into multiple pieces. But the genius had the last word after all. He emailed Tom with a message typed in blue and filling the whole screen with the words “blue sponge. . .blue sponge . . . blue sponge,” etc. Tom wrote back that somehow an electronic blue sponge just wasn’t the same. And that was the last of the blue sponge.
Why did I digress from Brenda to write about such a silly series of events? Because Ashley and I have our own version of the game, and today she GOT me!
Several years ago there was a movie out starring Hugh Grant as the Prime Minister of England, and Ashley and I happened to see it together. I can’t remember the title exactly, but it had the word “actually” in it. There was an aging rock star in the movie trying to make a come back with a really annoying song that stays on your mind if you ever get it on there.
Ashley and I began to surprise each other by calling on the phone and singing the first lines to each other. I think we even went out and bought the stupid CD so we could play the real thing. We always tried to do it at a time when we knew the other wouldn’t be at home so we could leave it on the answering machine.
Then we began to get creative with the computer – we would send the URL for the single or just the opening words. Ashley even sent me the DVD for Christmas one year. This morning she was out in her car when she heard the song on the radio. She quickly called me and held the phone up to the speaker. But I assume that she had the top down on her convertible because I couldn’t hear the words. So I’m not sure it counts.
But just in case it did, here is my reply. “I feel it in my fingers, Feel it in my toes!”
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Brenda Discovers Her Talent
When Brenda was in elementary school, her grades were slightly above average. There would usually be an A or two, maybe some B’s and generally a C. The genius and I encouraged, but didn’t push her in her academics. And we didn’t have to intervene until the sixth grade when she made an F in science one six weeks. We talked to the teacher and we all agreed that she was just careless and could do much better. The next six weeks grade was an A.
In the seventh grade she changed schools in order to attend the same one that her older siblings went to. Again, her grades were about the same – above average, but not exceptional.
(An incident occurred in the seventh grade science class that her classmates still remember. The teacher had stepped out of the room when someone got the bright idea to get Brenda to put a paper clip on the end of a pencil and stick it into the electrical outlet. Of course, sparks flew everywhere. The teacher later told me when he walked in the door, all the students except for Brenda were laughing – she was crying. That occasion might have accounted for her being placed in the standard track when she went on to eighth grade.)
During her eighth grade year, her math teacher began to notice that Brenda was excelling in that subject and suggested to the genius and me that in 9th grade she be moved to the honors track. That would mean that at some point she would have to take two math courses in one year, but she was willing to do that. So we agreed to that plan of action.
Something happened to Brenda after that. She decided if she could do well in math, she could shine in her other classes as well. And that’s what she did. During her high school years she won three math medals, made the honor society, and topped it all off by winning a full academic scholarship in civil engineering to college. The university she chose was renowned for its engineering program and was only about 90 miles away. Four years later she graduated Cum Laude and was on her way.
Her hidden talent had been discovered.
When Brenda was in elementary school, her grades were slightly above average. There would usually be an A or two, maybe some B’s and generally a C. The genius and I encouraged, but didn’t push her in her academics. And we didn’t have to intervene until the sixth grade when she made an F in science one six weeks. We talked to the teacher and we all agreed that she was just careless and could do much better. The next six weeks grade was an A.
In the seventh grade she changed schools in order to attend the same one that her older siblings went to. Again, her grades were about the same – above average, but not exceptional.
(An incident occurred in the seventh grade science class that her classmates still remember. The teacher had stepped out of the room when someone got the bright idea to get Brenda to put a paper clip on the end of a pencil and stick it into the electrical outlet. Of course, sparks flew everywhere. The teacher later told me when he walked in the door, all the students except for Brenda were laughing – she was crying. That occasion might have accounted for her being placed in the standard track when she went on to eighth grade.)
During her eighth grade year, her math teacher began to notice that Brenda was excelling in that subject and suggested to the genius and me that in 9th grade she be moved to the honors track. That would mean that at some point she would have to take two math courses in one year, but she was willing to do that. So we agreed to that plan of action.
Something happened to Brenda after that. She decided if she could do well in math, she could shine in her other classes as well. And that’s what she did. During her high school years she won three math medals, made the honor society, and topped it all off by winning a full academic scholarship in civil engineering to college. The university she chose was renowned for its engineering program and was only about 90 miles away. Four years later she graduated Cum Laude and was on her way.
Her hidden talent had been discovered.
Friday, October 19, 2007
Brenda, the Third Child
It’s amazing to me how three children can be so different. Our third and final child, Brenda, was born when Ashley was four and Jim was two. To say I had my hands full was an understatement.
I had literally run out of hands with the third one. When I would try to cross a street, I would hold Brenda in one arm, Jim’s hand with the other, and tell Ashley to hold on to my clothes as we crossed. That didn’t happen more than once or twice. I just avoided crossing the street. In fact, I avoided going out at all if I had to take all three of them.
Brenda was another “good” baby. I guess she had to be; she must have learned early on that I couldn’t come running as soon as she peeped. And she was frequently entertained by the other two playing nearby.
I remember certain crises when Brenda was a baby. When she was three weeks old, our dog, Snoopy, had eleven puppies in our garage! And when she was a year old, she had to have a little knot removed surgically from her head. For a while the surgeon thought that she might have some terrible disease that gave her a life span of thirty. So we were in a bad state until the pathology report came back negative. By that time, I was at home with a raging fever and sore throat that turned out to be my second bout with mononucleosis. I was in bed for three months. Fortunately, I received plenty of help from our parents, sisters, and friends.
Amazingly, Brenda and I bonded during that sickness; the other two were off to play school, and she and I could prop up in the bed and play, read, or even sleep together. So it wasn’t as bad as it sounds.
She was a sweet, easy-to-please child. There were no battles over clothes with this girl; she went along with whatever I picked out. And she was that way with everyone else, too.
One day she came to me and asked, “Mom, what is my talent? Ashley has her academics and Jim his tennis, what do I have?” I remember that I immediately thought of her sweet nature and said so. And I stressed that that was so very important in life. She told me later that her compliance and sweetness were an act, but I don’t believe it. She’s still just as loving and compassionate as she was then.
But she did have a hidden talent that we didn’t know about until later.
It’s amazing to me how three children can be so different. Our third and final child, Brenda, was born when Ashley was four and Jim was two. To say I had my hands full was an understatement.
I had literally run out of hands with the third one. When I would try to cross a street, I would hold Brenda in one arm, Jim’s hand with the other, and tell Ashley to hold on to my clothes as we crossed. That didn’t happen more than once or twice. I just avoided crossing the street. In fact, I avoided going out at all if I had to take all three of them.
Brenda was another “good” baby. I guess she had to be; she must have learned early on that I couldn’t come running as soon as she peeped. And she was frequently entertained by the other two playing nearby.
I remember certain crises when Brenda was a baby. When she was three weeks old, our dog, Snoopy, had eleven puppies in our garage! And when she was a year old, she had to have a little knot removed surgically from her head. For a while the surgeon thought that she might have some terrible disease that gave her a life span of thirty. So we were in a bad state until the pathology report came back negative. By that time, I was at home with a raging fever and sore throat that turned out to be my second bout with mononucleosis. I was in bed for three months. Fortunately, I received plenty of help from our parents, sisters, and friends.
Amazingly, Brenda and I bonded during that sickness; the other two were off to play school, and she and I could prop up in the bed and play, read, or even sleep together. So it wasn’t as bad as it sounds.
She was a sweet, easy-to-please child. There were no battles over clothes with this girl; she went along with whatever I picked out. And she was that way with everyone else, too.
One day she came to me and asked, “Mom, what is my talent? Ashley has her academics and Jim his tennis, what do I have?” I remember that I immediately thought of her sweet nature and said so. And I stressed that that was so very important in life. She told me later that her compliance and sweetness were an act, but I don’t believe it. She’s still just as loving and compassionate as she was then.
But she did have a hidden talent that we didn’t know about until later.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
The Monster
At the request of Jay (aka James Rufus V), I am injecting a Rufus tale into the current scene. This one is told from Rufus’s point of view.
Every so often Y’Daddy goes outside after dark and puts something on the street in front of our house. And the next morning when I make my first run of the day, everyone else on the street has done the same thing. There they are – the sentinels standing guard and protecting their houses from . . . The Monster. They have been secretly placed outside during the night.
The next day The Monster can be heard from a long way away. I perk up my ears and start a series of small barks in my throat. Deep down in me is a fear like no other and I always hope against hope that the guards will do their duty.
Finally, it gets to our street. I usually run to Y’Mommy to tell her and then I rush back to the front door to bark in earnest now. As it nears our house, I can see the huge arm come out and try to get each guard. But The Monster has never been able to defeat our protectors. Sometimes one of them may get knocked over by the big arm, but these guardian angels have performed their task well.
We are safe once more from The Monster.
At the request of Jay (aka James Rufus V), I am injecting a Rufus tale into the current scene. This one is told from Rufus’s point of view.
Every so often Y’Daddy goes outside after dark and puts something on the street in front of our house. And the next morning when I make my first run of the day, everyone else on the street has done the same thing. There they are – the sentinels standing guard and protecting their houses from . . . The Monster. They have been secretly placed outside during the night.
The next day The Monster can be heard from a long way away. I perk up my ears and start a series of small barks in my throat. Deep down in me is a fear like no other and I always hope against hope that the guards will do their duty.
Finally, it gets to our street. I usually run to Y’Mommy to tell her and then I rush back to the front door to bark in earnest now. As it nears our house, I can see the huge arm come out and try to get each guard. But The Monster has never been able to defeat our protectors. Sometimes one of them may get knocked over by the big arm, but these guardian angels have performed their task well.
We are safe once more from The Monster.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Random Jim IV Stories
1) The genius didn’t believe that people could tell the difference between Coke and Pepsi. Jim and I insisted we could. So the taste contest was on. The genius bought a can of each and put them in glasses for us to try.
I went first. I failed. Of course, my protestations that I always drank diet drinks fell on deaf ears. I will forever go down in history as failing the Coke-Pepsi taste test.
Then it was Jim’s turn. He decided to add a different twist to his part. He would tell by sniffing, not tasting! It was too much for the genius – he wanted to place a bet on that one. The wager was $5.00 (a lot for a teenaged boy), and so the stage was set.
Out came the two glasses of identical dark liquid. Without hesitation Jim sniffed the first and said, “Pepsi.” Then the second and said, “Coke.” Then he turned to his father and said, “The easiest $5.00 I ever made.” And he was right!
2) Jim is 23 months younger than his sister Ashley. Like any typical older sibling, she held the upper hand and usually got her way with him. He was not nor is he now a violent person, so he left her alone. But that all ended when he was ten.
They were playing at a friend’s house about 3 blocks from home when Ashley said something to him that set him off. He hauled off and hit her smack in the stomach and that was that. He was free at last. They didn’t tell me about it until much later, but they both agree that it was definitely a defining moment in their relationship.
3) Jim was nine years old when he played in his first Southern tennis tournament in Atlanta. He did pretty well his first matches, considering that most of his opponents were one year older (he was playing in the ten and unders). But then he came up against a seeded player in the round of sixteen.
The two boys were very even and had a close first set, which Jim lost 6-4. They were on the center court right in front of the club house and had drawn quite a crowd.
Jim’s opponent had not been the best sport up to this point, and when he became pretty flagrant about his poor line calls, Jim asked for a line judge. The tide began to turn ever so slightly in Jim’s favor after that and he finally won the second set 7-6. The other boy had gotten more and more out of control and when the second set was over, he threw his racket across the net. With that, the tournament director came out on the court and defaulted him.
The rest of that story came a year later. The Southern Tennis Association because of that match voted to discontinue the tens for ranking.
1) The genius didn’t believe that people could tell the difference between Coke and Pepsi. Jim and I insisted we could. So the taste contest was on. The genius bought a can of each and put them in glasses for us to try.
I went first. I failed. Of course, my protestations that I always drank diet drinks fell on deaf ears. I will forever go down in history as failing the Coke-Pepsi taste test.
Then it was Jim’s turn. He decided to add a different twist to his part. He would tell by sniffing, not tasting! It was too much for the genius – he wanted to place a bet on that one. The wager was $5.00 (a lot for a teenaged boy), and so the stage was set.
Out came the two glasses of identical dark liquid. Without hesitation Jim sniffed the first and said, “Pepsi.” Then the second and said, “Coke.” Then he turned to his father and said, “The easiest $5.00 I ever made.” And he was right!
2) Jim is 23 months younger than his sister Ashley. Like any typical older sibling, she held the upper hand and usually got her way with him. He was not nor is he now a violent person, so he left her alone. But that all ended when he was ten.
They were playing at a friend’s house about 3 blocks from home when Ashley said something to him that set him off. He hauled off and hit her smack in the stomach and that was that. He was free at last. They didn’t tell me about it until much later, but they both agree that it was definitely a defining moment in their relationship.
3) Jim was nine years old when he played in his first Southern tennis tournament in Atlanta. He did pretty well his first matches, considering that most of his opponents were one year older (he was playing in the ten and unders). But then he came up against a seeded player in the round of sixteen.
The two boys were very even and had a close first set, which Jim lost 6-4. They were on the center court right in front of the club house and had drawn quite a crowd.
Jim’s opponent had not been the best sport up to this point, and when he became pretty flagrant about his poor line calls, Jim asked for a line judge. The tide began to turn ever so slightly in Jim’s favor after that and he finally won the second set 7-6. The other boy had gotten more and more out of control and when the second set was over, he threw his racket across the net. With that, the tournament director came out on the court and defaulted him.
The rest of that story came a year later. The Southern Tennis Association because of that match voted to discontinue the tens for ranking.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Still Perpetuating the Name
When the genius and I married, I knew that the family name ended with him if we didn’t have a boy. And the same was true for Jim IV; he was the last male to carry on the surname. So when Jim and Laurie were married, of course we hoped that at some point a boy would arrive.
When they told us they were expecting, we were very excited. And we were sure that with all the modern medical innovations, they would find out the sex of the baby as soon as they could. But noooo, they were of the opinion that it was best to wait until the birth to learn. So we patiently (?) waited for several more months.
When the baby did arrive, we were thrilled to learn the last name would be carried on, but were really surprised that they had decided to name him James Rufus . . . V. So now we have four Rufuses in the family today, counting the dog, and two others who have passed on.
It’s amazing that we would be so excited about handing a name life “Rufus” on down through the generations, but the dynastic experience is still very much alive in the South, at least in our family.
When the genius and I married, I knew that the family name ended with him if we didn’t have a boy. And the same was true for Jim IV; he was the last male to carry on the surname. So when Jim and Laurie were married, of course we hoped that at some point a boy would arrive.
When they told us they were expecting, we were very excited. And we were sure that with all the modern medical innovations, they would find out the sex of the baby as soon as they could. But noooo, they were of the opinion that it was best to wait until the birth to learn. So we patiently (?) waited for several more months.
When the baby did arrive, we were thrilled to learn the last name would be carried on, but were really surprised that they had decided to name him James Rufus . . . V. So now we have four Rufuses in the family today, counting the dog, and two others who have passed on.
It’s amazing that we would be so excited about handing a name life “Rufus” on down through the generations, but the dynastic experience is still very much alive in the South, at least in our family.
Monday, October 15, 2007
The Other Grandmother
Just before I was two years old, my family moved to a house on a one-block-long street that was very kid friendly. Next door was another family who had three children and the youngest was my age. A-N-D her name was Peggy, also. In order to avoid confusion, the two families, in good old Southern fashion, decided to use both of our given names. She was Peggy Sue and I was Peggy Wade.
Neither of us liked the use of the full names but we were able to change them when we started to school. I remember being very adamant and insisted that I be called by my first name only.
Peggy (Sue) and I became best friends and playmates, but she moved several blocks away when we were ten and was zoned to a different school. We saw each other occasionally, especially when we went to the same high school. We lost touch for a while after we married, but we renewed our acquaintance when our children were in the same private school. Also, we were both big into tennis and we saw each other frequently in that arena.
Why have I digressed to tell this story when I’ve been writing about Jim? Because Jim became very good friends with Laurie, Peggy’s youngest daughter. Eventually, they married and are now living happily in Franklin.
I am very pleased to share my grandchildren with their other grandmother, my first friend.
Just before I was two years old, my family moved to a house on a one-block-long street that was very kid friendly. Next door was another family who had three children and the youngest was my age. A-N-D her name was Peggy, also. In order to avoid confusion, the two families, in good old Southern fashion, decided to use both of our given names. She was Peggy Sue and I was Peggy Wade.
Neither of us liked the use of the full names but we were able to change them when we started to school. I remember being very adamant and insisted that I be called by my first name only.
Peggy (Sue) and I became best friends and playmates, but she moved several blocks away when we were ten and was zoned to a different school. We saw each other occasionally, especially when we went to the same high school. We lost touch for a while after we married, but we renewed our acquaintance when our children were in the same private school. Also, we were both big into tennis and we saw each other frequently in that arena.
Why have I digressed to tell this story when I’ve been writing about Jim? Because Jim became very good friends with Laurie, Peggy’s youngest daughter. Eventually, they married and are now living happily in Franklin.
I am very pleased to share my grandchildren with their other grandmother, my first friend.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Jim IV
As a child, Jim was a laid-back individual who could be content either by himself or playing with other friends. Nothing ever seemed to bother him; he just enjoyed life as it came at him. When I would send him into the store for a quart of milk, he would saunter out about 15 minutes later and say that he couldn’t find the milk, but would have some interesting observation to make about the store.
Once when he was older, I asked him to look up a telephone number (I was forever trying to teach the children little life experiences). A loooong time later I asked him if he had found it, and he came back and asked me, “Do you know how many pages of Smiths there are in the phone book?” (To this day, when Jim is taking a long time doing something we say he is “counting the Smiths.”)
I don’t mean to imply that Jim isn’t intelligent – he’s actually very bright and anyone can see that after talking with him five minutes. He, like me, is a word-person, and he is constantly coming up with made-up words or puns. As a matter of fact, all of the children at one time or another have been addicted to working crosswords puzzles (I’m afraid they learned that from me). Sometimes if we are all on vacation together, Jim and I will buy 2 USA Today papers and have a contest to see who can get the crossword first. I honestly don’t remember who usually wins.
Unlike Ashley, Jim was an underachiever in the academic world. He was simply more interested in other things like sports, music, and friendships. So his grades, while not bad, were not up to the level that they could have been had he been more motivated in this area.
Friendships have always been a big part of his life. He genuinely enjoys his buddies, some of whom he has known for over 35 years. Making up this varied group are a lawyer, contractor, tennis pro, sculptor, minister, and realtor. People usually respond very favorably to Jim because they know that he really likes them and enjoys being with them.
Therefore, it was perhaps inevitable that he would first become friends with his wife before they fell in love with each other, but that’s another story.
As a child, Jim was a laid-back individual who could be content either by himself or playing with other friends. Nothing ever seemed to bother him; he just enjoyed life as it came at him. When I would send him into the store for a quart of milk, he would saunter out about 15 minutes later and say that he couldn’t find the milk, but would have some interesting observation to make about the store.
Once when he was older, I asked him to look up a telephone number (I was forever trying to teach the children little life experiences). A loooong time later I asked him if he had found it, and he came back and asked me, “Do you know how many pages of Smiths there are in the phone book?” (To this day, when Jim is taking a long time doing something we say he is “counting the Smiths.”)
I don’t mean to imply that Jim isn’t intelligent – he’s actually very bright and anyone can see that after talking with him five minutes. He, like me, is a word-person, and he is constantly coming up with made-up words or puns. As a matter of fact, all of the children at one time or another have been addicted to working crosswords puzzles (I’m afraid they learned that from me). Sometimes if we are all on vacation together, Jim and I will buy 2 USA Today papers and have a contest to see who can get the crossword first. I honestly don’t remember who usually wins.
Unlike Ashley, Jim was an underachiever in the academic world. He was simply more interested in other things like sports, music, and friendships. So his grades, while not bad, were not up to the level that they could have been had he been more motivated in this area.
Friendships have always been a big part of his life. He genuinely enjoys his buddies, some of whom he has known for over 35 years. Making up this varied group are a lawyer, contractor, tennis pro, sculptor, minister, and realtor. People usually respond very favorably to Jim because they know that he really likes them and enjoys being with them.
Therefore, it was perhaps inevitable that he would first become friends with his wife before they fell in love with each other, but that’s another story.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Perpetuating the Name
When you marry a man with III after his name, there’s no question what the first son will be named. So when the second baby was a boy, the birth certificate read James Rufus . . . IV.
According to the birth order theory, Jim should have characteristics of a middle child, but because he is the first son, he is supposed to have the traits of a first born as well. He definitely does not fit the pattern as well as his older sister. He is his own man.
His personality from the time he was a baby was easy-going and happy. I remember when he was about a year old and he received some inoculations during a visit to the doctor. Everyone was expecting him to begin wailing when the needle went in, but he just watched and then looked at me as if to say, “What IS this?”
Jim is the athlete among our children. From the time he was quite young, we could see that he was not only very coordinated and quick, but strong also. He was 6 when he took a racquet ball racket and began pounding a tennis ball across the net. Because he was short for his age, this feat looked even more amazing than it actually was. We started him out with 15 minute lessons with a pro so he would learn the correct strokes, but not overdo it and burn out on the game. Keep him hungry for more was our motto.
To shorten this tale, Jim excelled in both tennis and basketball, but the former was his bread and butter. He eventually went to college on a full ride and was all-conference for three years and broke school records. He never wanted the hassle of traveling on the pro circuit, so when he graduated, he elected to be a teaching pro here in his hometown. He continued to do this for over ten years.
When you marry a man with III after his name, there’s no question what the first son will be named. So when the second baby was a boy, the birth certificate read James Rufus . . . IV.
According to the birth order theory, Jim should have characteristics of a middle child, but because he is the first son, he is supposed to have the traits of a first born as well. He definitely does not fit the pattern as well as his older sister. He is his own man.
His personality from the time he was a baby was easy-going and happy. I remember when he was about a year old and he received some inoculations during a visit to the doctor. Everyone was expecting him to begin wailing when the needle went in, but he just watched and then looked at me as if to say, “What IS this?”
Jim is the athlete among our children. From the time he was quite young, we could see that he was not only very coordinated and quick, but strong also. He was 6 when he took a racquet ball racket and began pounding a tennis ball across the net. Because he was short for his age, this feat looked even more amazing than it actually was. We started him out with 15 minute lessons with a pro so he would learn the correct strokes, but not overdo it and burn out on the game. Keep him hungry for more was our motto.
To shorten this tale, Jim excelled in both tennis and basketball, but the former was his bread and butter. He eventually went to college on a full ride and was all-conference for three years and broke school records. He never wanted the hassle of traveling on the pro circuit, so when he graduated, he elected to be a teaching pro here in his hometown. He continued to do this for over ten years.
Friday, October 12, 2007
Birth Order: The Oldest
I have always been fascinated by the subject of personality traits accorded to those born in a certain order. And I’ve been amazed by how accurate some of the assessments can be.
Ashley, for instance, could be a model for the first born. She is responsible and can always be depended on to do whatever task she undertakes. When she was 8 years old, I would drive to the store, send her in with the money, and she always came back with the change and correct item(s). (The grocery store where we shopped had parking places right by the door and I could carefully watch the exit.)
When she was a teenager, I could give her my bank card to get me some cash while she was out on an errand. I remember some of my friends looking at me in amazement when I gave her my credit card to go shopping. And the interesting part about all this is I never thought twice about trusting her like that. That other mothers didn’t do the same was surprising to me. She never let me down.
Ashley was also a parent pleaser as the typical first born is supposed to be. She made excellent grades and we never had to worry about alcohol or drugs with her. Her only B in high school was in Driver’s Ed, and she probably didn’t even deserve that since she was to have five wrecks in the next few years (none of them serious). However, she was independent enough to have her own ideas (remember the dress battle?)
She sounds perfect, doesn’t she? But I must admit to failure on my part (and hers too) in one area: she was very messy. Her room always looked like Katrina had been through it, with clothes, both clean and dirty, in piles everywhere. The closets were unbelievable, defying description. The Lobsters teased her about the clutter that always seemed to collect around her on trips, but she was undeterred. The confusion simply didn’t bother her.
I would like to say that when she married and had her own home, that all changed. But, alas, it didn’t. It IS difficult to keep a straight house with four children around, so I refuse to be critical. And now that the children are growing up and leaving the nest, the house has much more order to it.
But the REAL reason I’m not judgmental about this personality trait is that I’m just like her, as my sisters and the genius will attest to. The apple didn’t fall very far.
I have always been fascinated by the subject of personality traits accorded to those born in a certain order. And I’ve been amazed by how accurate some of the assessments can be.
Ashley, for instance, could be a model for the first born. She is responsible and can always be depended on to do whatever task she undertakes. When she was 8 years old, I would drive to the store, send her in with the money, and she always came back with the change and correct item(s). (The grocery store where we shopped had parking places right by the door and I could carefully watch the exit.)
When she was a teenager, I could give her my bank card to get me some cash while she was out on an errand. I remember some of my friends looking at me in amazement when I gave her my credit card to go shopping. And the interesting part about all this is I never thought twice about trusting her like that. That other mothers didn’t do the same was surprising to me. She never let me down.
Ashley was also a parent pleaser as the typical first born is supposed to be. She made excellent grades and we never had to worry about alcohol or drugs with her. Her only B in high school was in Driver’s Ed, and she probably didn’t even deserve that since she was to have five wrecks in the next few years (none of them serious). However, she was independent enough to have her own ideas (remember the dress battle?)
She sounds perfect, doesn’t she? But I must admit to failure on my part (and hers too) in one area: she was very messy. Her room always looked like Katrina had been through it, with clothes, both clean and dirty, in piles everywhere. The closets were unbelievable, defying description. The Lobsters teased her about the clutter that always seemed to collect around her on trips, but she was undeterred. The confusion simply didn’t bother her.
I would like to say that when she married and had her own home, that all changed. But, alas, it didn’t. It IS difficult to keep a straight house with four children around, so I refuse to be critical. And now that the children are growing up and leaving the nest, the house has much more order to it.
But the REAL reason I’m not judgmental about this personality trait is that I’m just like her, as my sisters and the genius will attest to. The apple didn’t fall very far.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
The Phoenix People
As I mentioned, Ashley and Mike have four children. Tom, their oldest, is a Summa Cum Laude electrical engineering graduate of Arizona State University as is his wife Kirsten. She works for a local engineering firm while Tom is attending graduate school at ASU.
Obviously, Tom is very bright, but the neatest thing about him is his easy-going, compassionate nature. He has always had a sunny disposition and is a pleasure to be around. And we love Kirsten, who is also friendly and likeable. Both of them are mature beyond their years.
Jordan is next in line. She is currently a nursing student at Grand Canyon University (isn’t that a great name for a college?) and is very seriously attached to Mike, Tom’s best friend. Jordan is very outgoing and also very honest. It’s best not to ask for her opinion if you don’t want to hear the truth. She is planning to finish a 4 year program in 3 years, and with her determination, I have no doubt that she will.
All of the family watched as the relationship of Mike and Jordan went from casual to friendship to romance. Mike was “one of the family” anyway, so when he officially joins it through marriage, we will all be pleased.
Number three is Bailey, a high school senior. It’s difficult to be the third child, (believe me, I know!) but she has handled it well. She is a sweet, cooperative young lady who works very hard both at school and at her job in a department store. And she plays basketball for the school team (as did Jordan). So she has a full plate and manages it well.
As mentioned in a earlier post, Bailey’s best friend since kindergarten has been Jordin Sparks, the American Idol winner. Of course, lately they haven’t been able to see each other often with Jordin’s schedule, but they manage to text message back and forth frequently.
The youngest of the bunch is Danny, a 7th grader. He is into all kinds of sports and is often the star: baseball, football, basketball, tennis, and of course, golf (with Ping clubs!) -- all are on his list. Danny reminds me a lot of his brother, Tom, with his laid back personality, but he’s his own man, too. He is GREAT at video games (as is Tom) and since I’m such a klutz at them, I’m content to watch them battle it out.
As a matter of fact, this part of the family is into all kinds of games. We have some great times around the dining room table when we visit and at some point, we always end up laughing so hard, we are practically on the floor.
Just thinking about them makes me want to start planning my next trip out!
As I mentioned, Ashley and Mike have four children. Tom, their oldest, is a Summa Cum Laude electrical engineering graduate of Arizona State University as is his wife Kirsten. She works for a local engineering firm while Tom is attending graduate school at ASU.
Obviously, Tom is very bright, but the neatest thing about him is his easy-going, compassionate nature. He has always had a sunny disposition and is a pleasure to be around. And we love Kirsten, who is also friendly and likeable. Both of them are mature beyond their years.
Jordan is next in line. She is currently a nursing student at Grand Canyon University (isn’t that a great name for a college?) and is very seriously attached to Mike, Tom’s best friend. Jordan is very outgoing and also very honest. It’s best not to ask for her opinion if you don’t want to hear the truth. She is planning to finish a 4 year program in 3 years, and with her determination, I have no doubt that she will.
All of the family watched as the relationship of Mike and Jordan went from casual to friendship to romance. Mike was “one of the family” anyway, so when he officially joins it through marriage, we will all be pleased.
Number three is Bailey, a high school senior. It’s difficult to be the third child, (believe me, I know!) but she has handled it well. She is a sweet, cooperative young lady who works very hard both at school and at her job in a department store. And she plays basketball for the school team (as did Jordan). So she has a full plate and manages it well.
As mentioned in a earlier post, Bailey’s best friend since kindergarten has been Jordin Sparks, the American Idol winner. Of course, lately they haven’t been able to see each other often with Jordin’s schedule, but they manage to text message back and forth frequently.
The youngest of the bunch is Danny, a 7th grader. He is into all kinds of sports and is often the star: baseball, football, basketball, tennis, and of course, golf (with Ping clubs!) -- all are on his list. Danny reminds me a lot of his brother, Tom, with his laid back personality, but he’s his own man, too. He is GREAT at video games (as is Tom) and since I’m such a klutz at them, I’m content to watch them battle it out.
As a matter of fact, this part of the family is into all kinds of games. We have some great times around the dining room table when we visit and at some point, we always end up laughing so hard, we are practically on the floor.
Just thinking about them makes me want to start planning my next trip out!
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Ashley, a Lobster?
Ashley had a great set of friends in high school. These kids were extremely bright and well motivated, and consequently, they were competitive with their grades, etc. But more importantly, they had high moral standards and were great role models for each other. What more could a parent ask for?
During spring break of their junior year, I took a group of these girls to Destin, FL. That town then was undiscovered, and we stayed in one of a group of cottages on the beach. There were no malls, no high rises, and not very many places to eat.
The girls got too much sun, of course and named themselves “The Lobsters.” Thus, Mama Shack and the Lobsters began.
We had a great time and even had t-shirts printed with our names on each one. This was the first of many spring breaks for me and our children. We would all pile into someone’s station wagon (I don’t remember minivans back then) and Mama Shack would drive them down.
I became quite close to these friends of Ashley’s and saw them often during the school year as well. They even gave me a surprise birthday party on my 40th.
Out of this group, there were doctors, lawyers, Ph.D’s, CPA’s, teachers, etc. Looking back, it’s amazing that so many fine students were all together in one class, but I’m very grateful that they were the ones she chose for her friends.
Ashley had a great set of friends in high school. These kids were extremely bright and well motivated, and consequently, they were competitive with their grades, etc. But more importantly, they had high moral standards and were great role models for each other. What more could a parent ask for?
During spring break of their junior year, I took a group of these girls to Destin, FL. That town then was undiscovered, and we stayed in one of a group of cottages on the beach. There were no malls, no high rises, and not very many places to eat.
The girls got too much sun, of course and named themselves “The Lobsters.” Thus, Mama Shack and the Lobsters began.
We had a great time and even had t-shirts printed with our names on each one. This was the first of many spring breaks for me and our children. We would all pile into someone’s station wagon (I don’t remember minivans back then) and Mama Shack would drive them down.
I became quite close to these friends of Ashley’s and saw them often during the school year as well. They even gave me a surprise birthday party on my 40th.
Out of this group, there were doctors, lawyers, Ph.D’s, CPA’s, teachers, etc. Looking back, it’s amazing that so many fine students were all together in one class, but I’m very grateful that they were the ones she chose for her friends.
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Ashley Continued
One of the reasons I’m so glad that Ashley held to her conviction on her choice of college (sometimes children do know more than their parents) was that she met her future husband Mike there. They got together within the first few weeks, and we knew right away that this was serious. (He was intrigued by and drawn to her unusual name; how glad I am we named her that). They dated for 3 ½ years and married during Christmas break their senior year.
Mike was the son of missionaries/teachers, so he was a world traveler by the time he arrived on the campus. He had lived in Afghanistan, India, Samoa, and more recently, California (which is almost as foreign to me as the other places).
The first time he came to visit, he met my mother-in-law, a gracious Southern lady, who taught math at Vanderbilt for years. She was also a history buff, and when she learned that Mike came from California, she said, “Did you know that California fought for the North during the War Between the States?” Mike quickly learned of the importance of that war to Southerners.
He is a fun-loving guy who knows how to have a good time. He and Ash have 4 children and live in Phoenix, AZ, where he is CFO of Karston Company, the makers of Ping golf clubs. I particularly appreciate his getting tickets to the BCS Bowl for us last year when the Florida Gators (my team) beat Ohio State in the finals. That was definitely the football experience of a lifetime for me.
So even though I am sad that they live so far away from the rest of us, I am secure in the knowledge that Ashley has such a great husband and children.
One of the reasons I’m so glad that Ashley held to her conviction on her choice of college (sometimes children do know more than their parents) was that she met her future husband Mike there. They got together within the first few weeks, and we knew right away that this was serious. (He was intrigued by and drawn to her unusual name; how glad I am we named her that). They dated for 3 ½ years and married during Christmas break their senior year.
Mike was the son of missionaries/teachers, so he was a world traveler by the time he arrived on the campus. He had lived in Afghanistan, India, Samoa, and more recently, California (which is almost as foreign to me as the other places).
The first time he came to visit, he met my mother-in-law, a gracious Southern lady, who taught math at Vanderbilt for years. She was also a history buff, and when she learned that Mike came from California, she said, “Did you know that California fought for the North during the War Between the States?” Mike quickly learned of the importance of that war to Southerners.
He is a fun-loving guy who knows how to have a good time. He and Ash have 4 children and live in Phoenix, AZ, where he is CFO of Karston Company, the makers of Ping golf clubs. I particularly appreciate his getting tickets to the BCS Bowl for us last year when the Florida Gators (my team) beat Ohio State in the finals. That was definitely the football experience of a lifetime for me.
So even though I am sad that they live so far away from the rest of us, I am secure in the knowledge that Ashley has such a great husband and children.
Monday, October 8, 2007
Daughter #1 Continued
Our original assessment about Ashley became even more apparent as time passed. She was very bright and always made excellent grades. However, her attention span was short, and keeping her entertained could be quite a chore. She was well behaved (most of the time) as long as she had something to occupy her mind; once she started school, she was fine.
We also noticed that the strong will continued to hang around. She and I had many battles about what to wear, starting when she was around three. I remember asking the doctor for his advice, and he suggested that I choose three outfits and let her decide which one she liked. Invariably, she didn’t like ANY of them and would try to choose her own from the closet, which was usually something like pink pants and a striped orange and brown shirt. Eventually, I admit to giving up many times and letting her wear what she wanted instead of going through the hassle of arguing.
Not long ago she was looking through some old class pictures, and she said, “Mom, I can’t believe you let me wear this outfit to school!” I looked at the photograph, and she had worn a plaid shirt with striped pants and none of the colors matched. I just bit my tongue and kept quiet . . . mostly.
Of course, she improved as she matured, but she did make up her mind about where she wanted to go to college when she was just a sophomore in high school. Her choice was a Christian university located about 482.5 miles away (according to the genius. To me, it was a “good day’s drive.”) We had hoped that she would go somewhere closer to home, and also try to get some scholarship money.
She actually won a full Air Force ROTC scholarship to any college in the country that had an Air Force program, but she was set on this university that provided only a fraction of the tuition for her academic scholarship.
I will always be proud of her decision. She wanted it and she went after it. During the school year, she worked 20 hours in the school cafeteria, and each summer she held 3 different jobs in order to pursue her goal. She was able to pay a good portion of her expenses each year. She graduated in 1984 Magna Cum Laude from the college of her choice.
Our original assessment about Ashley became even more apparent as time passed. She was very bright and always made excellent grades. However, her attention span was short, and keeping her entertained could be quite a chore. She was well behaved (most of the time) as long as she had something to occupy her mind; once she started school, she was fine.
We also noticed that the strong will continued to hang around. She and I had many battles about what to wear, starting when she was around three. I remember asking the doctor for his advice, and he suggested that I choose three outfits and let her decide which one she liked. Invariably, she didn’t like ANY of them and would try to choose her own from the closet, which was usually something like pink pants and a striped orange and brown shirt. Eventually, I admit to giving up many times and letting her wear what she wanted instead of going through the hassle of arguing.
Not long ago she was looking through some old class pictures, and she said, “Mom, I can’t believe you let me wear this outfit to school!” I looked at the photograph, and she had worn a plaid shirt with striped pants and none of the colors matched. I just bit my tongue and kept quiet . . . mostly.
Of course, she improved as she matured, but she did make up her mind about where she wanted to go to college when she was just a sophomore in high school. Her choice was a Christian university located about 482.5 miles away (according to the genius. To me, it was a “good day’s drive.”) We had hoped that she would go somewhere closer to home, and also try to get some scholarship money.
She actually won a full Air Force ROTC scholarship to any college in the country that had an Air Force program, but she was set on this university that provided only a fraction of the tuition for her academic scholarship.
I will always be proud of her decision. She wanted it and she went after it. During the school year, she worked 20 hours in the school cafeteria, and each summer she held 3 different jobs in order to pursue her goal. She was able to pay a good portion of her expenses each year. She graduated in 1984 Magna Cum Laude from the college of her choice.
Sunday, October 7, 2007
The Next Generation: Daughter #1
The genius and I wanted to have children right away, but it was 18 months to the day before our first was born. We had both decided that we liked the name Ashley and believe it or not, we only knew one other girl (and she was our age) with that name. I guess we started a trend because that seems to be the most popular name for girls today.
So Ashley was born on an Army post hospital (delivered by a urologist) after a 36 hour labor. She was a good baby, sleeping through the night at 6 weeks and keeping to a great schedule. It wasn’t until she was about 18 months old that the strong will (inherited from the genius, of course) began to emerge. By this time there were several moves that we made that I’m sure were unsettling to her.
She was a smart little rascal who loved to be read to. Since I had housework to do, I would “read” her books to her from memory while I washed dishes or cooked and she sat on the floor turning pages. Sometimes I would miss a word, either accidentally or on purpose, and she would become quite upset.
And then her little brother was born. In order to make the transition easier for her, we bought her a little baby doll, so she could imitate Mommy. She named him Baby Jim after her new little brother. Baby Jim didn’t fare too well – one day I found him decapitated (she had bitten his head of -- literally).
I was very careful after that never to leave her alone with her baby brother.
The genius and I wanted to have children right away, but it was 18 months to the day before our first was born. We had both decided that we liked the name Ashley and believe it or not, we only knew one other girl (and she was our age) with that name. I guess we started a trend because that seems to be the most popular name for girls today.
So Ashley was born on an Army post hospital (delivered by a urologist) after a 36 hour labor. She was a good baby, sleeping through the night at 6 weeks and keeping to a great schedule. It wasn’t until she was about 18 months old that the strong will (inherited from the genius, of course) began to emerge. By this time there were several moves that we made that I’m sure were unsettling to her.
She was a smart little rascal who loved to be read to. Since I had housework to do, I would “read” her books to her from memory while I washed dishes or cooked and she sat on the floor turning pages. Sometimes I would miss a word, either accidentally or on purpose, and she would become quite upset.
And then her little brother was born. In order to make the transition easier for her, we bought her a little baby doll, so she could imitate Mommy. She named him Baby Jim after her new little brother. Baby Jim didn’t fare too well – one day I found him decapitated (she had bitten his head of -- literally).
I was very careful after that never to leave her alone with her baby brother.
Saturday, October 6, 2007
Grandchildren and Friendships
The genius and I have been blessed to have eight grandchildren. Four of them live in Phoenix, AZ, so we only see them once or twice a year; we usually take a trip out there, and some or all of them come here every summer.
Many times we all traipsed to Florida to join my sister and her extended family for a week. Altogether, there were about 35 of us who descended on the Towers Condos of Perdido Key.
Several years ago Tom, the oldest grandson, now 22, began bringing his best friend Mike with him. We all love Mike and the really good news for us was that he eventually fell for Tom’s sister (Jordan, now 20), and it seems that plans for marriage are in the talking stage.
Bailey 17, not to be outdone, brought her friend, also. They had been inseparable since kindergarten. This pretty little girl with the bubbly personality quickly fit right in with all of us, and we enjoyed taking her to Florida for 2 years in a row. However, there were two minor problems: 1) her name was Jordan also, and 2) when she rode down to Florida, she liked to listen to her CD’s and sing along with them with an amazingly LOUD voice, bothering the driver. The first was solved by referring to Jordan 1 and Jordan 2; the second, by putting her in the very back of the rental van.
The rest of the story: This bubbly, now gorgeous young lady has a name that is more recognizable than Chief Justice John Roberts (so I read recently in Glamour Magazine in her four page spread). She is Jordin Sparks (yes, I purposely misspelled her name above), the 2007 American Idol winner.
Bailey and Jordin have remained good friends (Bailey even appeared on AI for about a 10 second blurb and was introduced to America as “my very best friend in all the world”).
Until February, when Idol started, we saw Jordin every time we visited Phoenix, but no more, of course, she’s never there.
The genius and I have been blessed to have eight grandchildren. Four of them live in Phoenix, AZ, so we only see them once or twice a year; we usually take a trip out there, and some or all of them come here every summer.
Many times we all traipsed to Florida to join my sister and her extended family for a week. Altogether, there were about 35 of us who descended on the Towers Condos of Perdido Key.
Several years ago Tom, the oldest grandson, now 22, began bringing his best friend Mike with him. We all love Mike and the really good news for us was that he eventually fell for Tom’s sister (Jordan, now 20), and it seems that plans for marriage are in the talking stage.
Bailey 17, not to be outdone, brought her friend, also. They had been inseparable since kindergarten. This pretty little girl with the bubbly personality quickly fit right in with all of us, and we enjoyed taking her to Florida for 2 years in a row. However, there were two minor problems: 1) her name was Jordan also, and 2) when she rode down to Florida, she liked to listen to her CD’s and sing along with them with an amazingly LOUD voice, bothering the driver. The first was solved by referring to Jordan 1 and Jordan 2; the second, by putting her in the very back of the rental van.
The rest of the story: This bubbly, now gorgeous young lady has a name that is more recognizable than Chief Justice John Roberts (so I read recently in Glamour Magazine in her four page spread). She is Jordin Sparks (yes, I purposely misspelled her name above), the 2007 American Idol winner.
Bailey and Jordin have remained good friends (Bailey even appeared on AI for about a 10 second blurb and was introduced to America as “my very best friend in all the world”).
Until February, when Idol started, we saw Jordin every time we visited Phoenix, but no more, of course, she’s never there.
Friday, October 5, 2007
Completing the Masters
Teaching school for the first time was tough, but with the graduate classes at Belmont added in, my life was especially hectic. So I decided to leave the classes for the summer months. This continued until the fall of ’91 when I had only the thesis and defense of it remaining. I had finished my comprehensive exams that summer and had made a good start on the paper.
I had discovered the delights and genius of Jane Austen and wanted to concentrate on her works. So I trudged through that fall writing and revising and oh yes, teaching along the way. Most likely it was during this time that I made that oh-so-bad mistake in teaching Teddy Roosevelt (Gaffes Galore).
I finally had the paper complete and after school was going to take the final copy to my advisor at Belmont. The basketball coach asked me to take some players to another gym for practice on my way and I agreed. I don’t remember how, but the finished thesis that was in a folder was somehow placed on top of the car . . . and I took off. Cars began honking, the girls began screaming at me to stop, and when I looked in the rearview mirror, all I could see were papers spread out all over the road and in the ditches on each side.
I was able to reprint (which took quite a while in those days) and get the finished copy to the advisor (a little late).
So in December of ’91 I received my M. Ed., and finally I could concentrate solely on teaching.
Teaching school for the first time was tough, but with the graduate classes at Belmont added in, my life was especially hectic. So I decided to leave the classes for the summer months. This continued until the fall of ’91 when I had only the thesis and defense of it remaining. I had finished my comprehensive exams that summer and had made a good start on the paper.
I had discovered the delights and genius of Jane Austen and wanted to concentrate on her works. So I trudged through that fall writing and revising and oh yes, teaching along the way. Most likely it was during this time that I made that oh-so-bad mistake in teaching Teddy Roosevelt (Gaffes Galore).
I finally had the paper complete and after school was going to take the final copy to my advisor at Belmont. The basketball coach asked me to take some players to another gym for practice on my way and I agreed. I don’t remember how, but the finished thesis that was in a folder was somehow placed on top of the car . . . and I took off. Cars began honking, the girls began screaming at me to stop, and when I looked in the rearview mirror, all I could see were papers spread out all over the road and in the ditches on each side.
I was able to reprint (which took quite a while in those days) and get the finished copy to the advisor (a little late).
So in December of ’91 I received my M. Ed., and finally I could concentrate solely on teaching.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Decisions, Decisions . . .
I had a big decision to make once I had graduated: go to work or continue my education? One thing was sure, I couldn’t go back to the old life of doing nothing after getting used to such a whirlwind schedule. The Dean of Humanities, who was my advisor, had already begun trying to persuade me to 1) become a teacher and 2) begin work on my master’s degree. Since no one was knocking on my door to hand me a job, I decided to pursue the degree (Master of Education with a specialty in English).
Meanwhile, I put my resume in at several private schools and although no offer was forthcoming, I did get lots of experience in the classroom substitute teaching. Many people think this job is the pits, but I loved it and it gave me the opportunity to try out different age levels to see which one I preferred. I came to love 7th and 8th graders with their great sense of humor and liveliness.
One thing I knew for sure was that the little ones (kindergarten and 1st graders) were not for me. They were like little roaches – I’d get them on the rug to read a story and the next thing I knew they were all crawling in different directions. I would collapse in bed for a couple of hours after taking care of them for a day.
And high schoolers were fun except they thought they knew more than I did (and they probably did, especially bout many things that I didn't want to know about). So the junior high level became my choice.
I subbed and went to school for a year and a half after I graduated and then came my call. A small Christian school asked me to teach part time (2 classes) for the next year. The kicker was that one of the classes was Algebra I (eeeek!!!) But I confidently told the board that I had plenty of help at home with the genius, and they believed me! So I was hired teaching English and math. Shortly after I started, I was asked to take on 2 more English classes (with a raise in pay, of course) and away I went!
I remained there five years before switching to a larger private school, where I taught for 13 more years. During this 18 year period, I taught mostly English grammar and literature (only one year of math, thank goodness, and a few of history thrown in) to mostly 7th and 8th graders. What wonderful years they were, too, in spite of the slips-of –the-tongue I was prone to make (see Gaffes Galore).
At aged 66 I finally came to the point where I wanted to stop and rest and take stock. So here I am, taking stock and enjoying every minute of it.
I had a big decision to make once I had graduated: go to work or continue my education? One thing was sure, I couldn’t go back to the old life of doing nothing after getting used to such a whirlwind schedule. The Dean of Humanities, who was my advisor, had already begun trying to persuade me to 1) become a teacher and 2) begin work on my master’s degree. Since no one was knocking on my door to hand me a job, I decided to pursue the degree (Master of Education with a specialty in English).
Meanwhile, I put my resume in at several private schools and although no offer was forthcoming, I did get lots of experience in the classroom substitute teaching. Many people think this job is the pits, but I loved it and it gave me the opportunity to try out different age levels to see which one I preferred. I came to love 7th and 8th graders with their great sense of humor and liveliness.
One thing I knew for sure was that the little ones (kindergarten and 1st graders) were not for me. They were like little roaches – I’d get them on the rug to read a story and the next thing I knew they were all crawling in different directions. I would collapse in bed for a couple of hours after taking care of them for a day.
And high schoolers were fun except they thought they knew more than I did (and they probably did, especially bout many things that I didn't want to know about). So the junior high level became my choice.
I subbed and went to school for a year and a half after I graduated and then came my call. A small Christian school asked me to teach part time (2 classes) for the next year. The kicker was that one of the classes was Algebra I (eeeek!!!) But I confidently told the board that I had plenty of help at home with the genius, and they believed me! So I was hired teaching English and math. Shortly after I started, I was asked to take on 2 more English classes (with a raise in pay, of course) and away I went!
I remained there five years before switching to a larger private school, where I taught for 13 more years. During this 18 year period, I taught mostly English grammar and literature (only one year of math, thank goodness, and a few of history thrown in) to mostly 7th and 8th graders. What wonderful years they were, too, in spite of the slips-of –the-tongue I was prone to make (see Gaffes Galore).
At aged 66 I finally came to the point where I wanted to stop and rest and take stock. So here I am, taking stock and enjoying every minute of it.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
The World of Academia
When I returned to college I decided to major in history because I had always been fascinated with the past. I also had to declare a minor so I chose religion due to an interest in studying the Bible. (And I was curious to see what the Baptist professors were like.)
I still remember my four courses that semester: Speech, Western Civ, English Composition, and Old Testament. The one I dreaded the most was Speech because I would have to make speeches to a classroom full of students my children’s ages (and be graded on it!!). And speaking of grades, did I really think I was there to just learn and let the grades fall where they may? If I had discovered one thing about myself in my years of playing tennis, it was that I was very competitive. So why did I think it would be any different in the academic world?
I became a dedicated student, driven to achieve like never before. I’ll never forget the first quiz I had to take (it was in O.T.); I thought I was going to have to run to the bathroom to throw up, I was so nervous. I made 100. When the history professor told us that the top 2 students in the class would be exempt from the final exam, I became determined to be one of those. (In all of his classes, I finished 2nd to Emily, a very bright girl from Singapore.) Even though I was busy as never before, I was having a ball.
My days would be something like this: go to class (I tried to get all morning classes), go home and study, go back to tennis practice for 2-3 hours, back home to cook (maybe) and study some more until bedtime. On the days we couldn’t practice (weather, usually) we were expected to run at least a mile. So I was never lacking for something to do.
The young students were very accepting; some even asked me to study with them at their homes or the library. (That was because they knew I never missed class and always had extensive notes.) I enjoyed these relationships and got to know some of them really well.
After taking 2 years of Bible courses, I changed my major to English. The Religion instructors and I didn’t always agree. Amazingly enough, they were too liberal for me. I felt like I was at Vanderbilt Divinity School where the professors seemingly have a mission to destroy one’s faith instead of build it up. (Or so I have gathered over the years of reading about them and talking to their students.) English was a much better minor for me – I was really getting into Shakespeare and Jane Austen.
My 3 ½ undergraduate years at Belmont were extremely rewarding. I was selected to join both the history and English honor societies, and was all-conference in tennis one year. My GPA for those years was 3.9 (just couldn’t pull off A’s in biology or sociology). I had made friends with both students and faculty and had enjoyed the experience of broadening (s-t-r-e-t-c-h-i-n-g) my mind.
I don’t say all of this to brag (well, maybe a little) – my thought is that if I could achieve something in my late forties, then anyone can at any age. It was a great lesson for me in overcoming fears.
But where to go from here?
When I returned to college I decided to major in history because I had always been fascinated with the past. I also had to declare a minor so I chose religion due to an interest in studying the Bible. (And I was curious to see what the Baptist professors were like.)
I still remember my four courses that semester: Speech, Western Civ, English Composition, and Old Testament. The one I dreaded the most was Speech because I would have to make speeches to a classroom full of students my children’s ages (and be graded on it!!). And speaking of grades, did I really think I was there to just learn and let the grades fall where they may? If I had discovered one thing about myself in my years of playing tennis, it was that I was very competitive. So why did I think it would be any different in the academic world?
I became a dedicated student, driven to achieve like never before. I’ll never forget the first quiz I had to take (it was in O.T.); I thought I was going to have to run to the bathroom to throw up, I was so nervous. I made 100. When the history professor told us that the top 2 students in the class would be exempt from the final exam, I became determined to be one of those. (In all of his classes, I finished 2nd to Emily, a very bright girl from Singapore.) Even though I was busy as never before, I was having a ball.
My days would be something like this: go to class (I tried to get all morning classes), go home and study, go back to tennis practice for 2-3 hours, back home to cook (maybe) and study some more until bedtime. On the days we couldn’t practice (weather, usually) we were expected to run at least a mile. So I was never lacking for something to do.
The young students were very accepting; some even asked me to study with them at their homes or the library. (That was because they knew I never missed class and always had extensive notes.) I enjoyed these relationships and got to know some of them really well.
After taking 2 years of Bible courses, I changed my major to English. The Religion instructors and I didn’t always agree. Amazingly enough, they were too liberal for me. I felt like I was at Vanderbilt Divinity School where the professors seemingly have a mission to destroy one’s faith instead of build it up. (Or so I have gathered over the years of reading about them and talking to their students.) English was a much better minor for me – I was really getting into Shakespeare and Jane Austen.
My 3 ½ undergraduate years at Belmont were extremely rewarding. I was selected to join both the history and English honor societies, and was all-conference in tennis one year. My GPA for those years was 3.9 (just couldn’t pull off A’s in biology or sociology). I had made friends with both students and faculty and had enjoyed the experience of broadening (s-t-r-e-t-c-h-i-n-g) my mind.
I don’t say all of this to brag (well, maybe a little) – my thought is that if I could achieve something in my late forties, then anyone can at any age. It was a great lesson for me in overcoming fears.
But where to go from here?
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
The Tennis Experience
Before we even started classes at Belmont, the tennis players were out on the court, working out every day. I could see right away that there were two players who were on a level far and above that of anyone else. One was a sophomore transfer from UT, and the other was a South African beauty who was in Nashville because her boyfriend was on the team at Vandy – kind of a package deal, I guess. Both girls had very nice games and would obviously play #’s 1 and 2. From there, I couldn’t tell until I had played some of the others.
There were four freshmen, 3 from Hendersonville and one from Lipscomb High. Suzanne looked the best and the other 3 were decent also. So the challenge matches began. Suzanne and I turned out to be pretty even – we played close matches every time. So the coach put her at #3 and me at #4. That suited me fine. Lisa, who would become a good friend, was #5 and Kara #6.
Belmont was a member of the NAIA Conference then, and the rules were very similar to the NCAA. The only difference was that we could not play no-add games, which would shorten the matches, but had to stick with regular scoring. I was the one who was affected the most by that rule since my stamina was not as good as an 18 year old.
I won’t go into all the matches of that first year. Suffice it to say that we had a good year and probably finished 2nd or 3rd in the conference of 12 teams. I don’t remember my record, in either singles or doubles, but I didn’t lose many matches.
Strangely enough, my biggest advantage (and also disadvantage) was my age. My experience paid off because I didn’t just go out there and crank the ball every time. My years of playing had taught me to keep calm and use a variety of shots. Also, (so the coach told me) my demeanor on the court was one of confidence and that intimidated the younger opponents. And I didn’t mind questioning calls (nicely, of course) or call for a linesman if I thought I was being cheated.
So all in all, my first year at Belmont was a very positive experience tennis-wise, but how were the classes?
Before we even started classes at Belmont, the tennis players were out on the court, working out every day. I could see right away that there were two players who were on a level far and above that of anyone else. One was a sophomore transfer from UT, and the other was a South African beauty who was in Nashville because her boyfriend was on the team at Vandy – kind of a package deal, I guess. Both girls had very nice games and would obviously play #’s 1 and 2. From there, I couldn’t tell until I had played some of the others.
There were four freshmen, 3 from Hendersonville and one from Lipscomb High. Suzanne looked the best and the other 3 were decent also. So the challenge matches began. Suzanne and I turned out to be pretty even – we played close matches every time. So the coach put her at #3 and me at #4. That suited me fine. Lisa, who would become a good friend, was #5 and Kara #6.
Belmont was a member of the NAIA Conference then, and the rules were very similar to the NCAA. The only difference was that we could not play no-add games, which would shorten the matches, but had to stick with regular scoring. I was the one who was affected the most by that rule since my stamina was not as good as an 18 year old.
I won’t go into all the matches of that first year. Suffice it to say that we had a good year and probably finished 2nd or 3rd in the conference of 12 teams. I don’t remember my record, in either singles or doubles, but I didn’t lose many matches.
Strangely enough, my biggest advantage (and also disadvantage) was my age. My experience paid off because I didn’t just go out there and crank the ball every time. My years of playing had taught me to keep calm and use a variety of shots. Also, (so the coach told me) my demeanor on the court was one of confidence and that intimidated the younger opponents. And I didn’t mind questioning calls (nicely, of course) or call for a linesman if I thought I was being cheated.
So all in all, my first year at Belmont was a very positive experience tennis-wise, but how were the classes?
Monday, October 1, 2007
College the Second Time
I never intended to get a degree when I went back to college at the age of 45. My idea at that time was to take a class or two at a time to have something worthwhile to do to combat the empty nest syndrome.
Our two oldest children had just married and the youngest was going off to college. I had to have something to do besides keeping an empty house and playing tennis. And it had to be a drastic change to take my mind off of the fact that three of the people nearest and dearest to me were not going to be around much anymore.
So during the summer I began looking at colleges. I knew we couldn’t afford Vanderbilt (and they wouldn’t take me anyway after looking at my transcript), so that narrowed it down to Belmont, Trevecca, and MTSU. Belmont was my first choice but it was not cheap, MTSU was a long commute, and Trevecca was a possibility. So off I went to the campuses to try to convince someone to overlook my grades from the first time and let them know I was serious this time around.
To my pleasant surprise, the admissions director at Belmont was an acquaintance whom I knew through my years in the tennis world. When I began presenting my case, he just kind of waved his hand and said that Belmont loved having returning students because they were so motivated. So that was that – I could go there if I wanted.
Then he asked me an interesting question: “Would you consider playing tennis for the team?” Well, I perked up because I loved the game and played several times a week. I questioned whether I would even make the team, and after assuring me that I could, he dropped the bomb. All I would have to do is to go “full time!” (none of this 1 – 2-classes-at-a-time stuff).
I almost screamed in terror! I was already scared silly to go back into the classroom, and FOUR CLASSES were almost too many for me to imagine. And practicing tennis every afternoon, too? I told him I would think about it and left to do just that.
After a day or two I received a call from the tennis coach (a recent graduate not much older than my oldest child!). She began talking enthusiastically about my playing and the other players, etc. etc. etc. When I told her my fears about the studies, she just laughed. (Why was everyone so sure that it would be a piece of cake?) And then the piece d’resistance came – “I’m pretty sure that I can get you some money.” (“Is she trying to bribe me?”) And then it dawned on me that she was actually talking about scholarship money.
That was all I needed to seal the deal. I jumped in with both feet and didn’t look back!
I never intended to get a degree when I went back to college at the age of 45. My idea at that time was to take a class or two at a time to have something worthwhile to do to combat the empty nest syndrome.
Our two oldest children had just married and the youngest was going off to college. I had to have something to do besides keeping an empty house and playing tennis. And it had to be a drastic change to take my mind off of the fact that three of the people nearest and dearest to me were not going to be around much anymore.
So during the summer I began looking at colleges. I knew we couldn’t afford Vanderbilt (and they wouldn’t take me anyway after looking at my transcript), so that narrowed it down to Belmont, Trevecca, and MTSU. Belmont was my first choice but it was not cheap, MTSU was a long commute, and Trevecca was a possibility. So off I went to the campuses to try to convince someone to overlook my grades from the first time and let them know I was serious this time around.
To my pleasant surprise, the admissions director at Belmont was an acquaintance whom I knew through my years in the tennis world. When I began presenting my case, he just kind of waved his hand and said that Belmont loved having returning students because they were so motivated. So that was that – I could go there if I wanted.
Then he asked me an interesting question: “Would you consider playing tennis for the team?” Well, I perked up because I loved the game and played several times a week. I questioned whether I would even make the team, and after assuring me that I could, he dropped the bomb. All I would have to do is to go “full time!” (none of this 1 – 2-classes-at-a-time stuff).
I almost screamed in terror! I was already scared silly to go back into the classroom, and FOUR CLASSES were almost too many for me to imagine. And practicing tennis every afternoon, too? I told him I would think about it and left to do just that.
After a day or two I received a call from the tennis coach (a recent graduate not much older than my oldest child!). She began talking enthusiastically about my playing and the other players, etc. etc. etc. When I told her my fears about the studies, she just laughed. (Why was everyone so sure that it would be a piece of cake?) And then the piece d’resistance came – “I’m pretty sure that I can get you some money.” (“Is she trying to bribe me?”) And then it dawned on me that she was actually talking about scholarship money.
That was all I needed to seal the deal. I jumped in with both feet and didn’t look back!
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