ANOTHER LUNCHEON

Last week the ’57 “girls” got together again for a luncheon, this time traveling all the way to Gallatin for our get together. We had another wonderful time gathering at Fairvue, an antebellum plantation home that had a restaurant in the back of it. Actually, it was a club house for the country club and subdivision that had been built around it. (Trust us Americans to do that to a beautiful old home.) The house itself is occupied, so we couldn’t go inside, but we had a wonderful time catching up with each other again.

Lou had the most interesting experience to tell us. She and her son and his wife and two children had just gotten back from a three week visit to China to get an adopted baby girl. She had brought pictures of the baby, of course, who was precious, and also of the city Quanjo where they had spent most of the three weeks. I was particularly interested because Quanjo is the one city in China I had visited when I had gone to Hong Kong. They stayed in the very same 5 star hotel we had eaten lunch in, the one where we had to ask for napkins and they brought us one for seven people! Lou said they never brought them one and some places even charged for napkins, so they just learned to take their own packages of tissues when they ate out.

Again I was very pleasantly surprised at myself because I enjoyed seeing everyone so much, even those whom I thought I didn’t particularly like in high school. Or to be really truthful, those that I thought didn’t like me. I hope all of you readers don’t wait fifty years like I did to put any petty experiences you had at that age behind you. Words can’t express how free I feel from a burden I apparently carried around with me for years!

Below is a shot of us gathering in front of the club house.

HOW MUCH IS THAT DOGGIE IN THE WINDOW?

Yesterday we had Jesse for the day and the dogs had a good time, as usual. I’ve written before about the hall window upstairs where I killed a thousand plants before filling it with colored glass. Rufus took over the bottom shelf as his lookout and now Jesse has too. Below are two pictures of the little cuties.

DESCRIBING RUFUS

Last week at church another Maltese owner and I were discussing our dogs. Hers is five years old and a female, whereas Rufus is two (still an adolescent) and a male. I could tell that she was surprised when I began describing his behavior to her; obviously, there is a big difference between the two.

He has such a mind of his own!! That’s the biggest problem!! Here’s an example: It’s time for him to go outside, so I say “Rufus, let’s go outside.” Most dogs (Jesse is a good example) run to the door, tail wagging, ready to go. Here’s what Rufus does. I stand at the door with the leash looking out and say, “Let’s go see Joe or Izzy” (two dogs up the street). Rufus slowly saunters up to the door and if he gets in front of me, I know he’s willing. I can put the leash on. However, I cannot try to put it on anytime before that or he will run away. If he happens to be asleep on my lap, I can just pick him up and take him out, a ploy I use often.

One morning he didn’t want to go out first thing, so I fed him his breakfast (white chicken meat and dog food). After breakfast he always has a greenie (a ridiculously expensive green dog treat shaped like a tooth brush that all dogs love). I told him he couldn’t have one until he went outside. I took the treat with me and got the leash, and he understood immediately. Out the door he went and I have never seen him do his business so fast. But I’m not about to give him one of those every time I want him to go out. For one thing, they are expensive, and for another, he’s not supposed to have more than one a day, according to the box. I do give him a small treat when we get back inside (something that looks like a miniature potato chip, but it’s called a chicken chip), so as smart as he is, you would think he would remember that.

And here’s another thing: he’s a very picky eater. Jesse will eat any kind of dog treat you give her; not so with Rufus. I have found maybe two types of treats that he will eat and one of those he grew tired of and won’t touch. That is, unless Jesse is here and then he will eat anything just to keep her from getting it. Right now I have at least three bags of dog treats in the pantry that he turned his nose up at and walked away. And it’s so embarrassing when I go through a drive through bank or drugstore and he is given a little dog biscuit. He just looks at it and refuses to take it. How ungrateful is that?

When I began wanting a dog and planning for one, I really thought I would have a sweet, pliable little one who would love me and obey me on command. Well, that’s not what I got; instead, I have a little rascal with his own personality who wants to play all day and sleep right up next to me at night. The sleeping part was exactly what I had in mind, so that’s okay, but I surely didn’t bargain for the independent cuss I got.

Now that I have him, however, I wouldn’t take anything else; he keeps the genius and me so entertained that we are amazed we did without him for so long.

EVALUATING THE FIFTIES

I recently ordered two books from Amazon that came as a package deal. The titles were Ninety Minutes in Heaven and Twenty-Three Minutes in Hell. And no, they were not by the same author. I decided to read the “heaven” one first and it was very interesting. One thing that struck me as I read it has made me take a look back at the fifties and perhaps re-evaluate my opinions about the era.

What the author said was that when people look back at “the good old days,” they tend to forget the bad things about the times and just remember the good. I had already suspected that I was guilty of this very thing, so I began trying to think of what might have been bad about the era.

First, I do recall that I thought people were not as sincere as they should be; there seemed to be a false veneer behind which we hid. In doing so, we were always trying to conform to others’ opinions of us rather than being true to ourselves. It was very important to us to be one of the crowd and we were brought up to the old adage of “What will people think?”

Also, there was definitely a double standard between boys and girls. It was okay for boys to wear jeans to school, but the girls couldn’t. Men could smoke; women were “common” if they did. (Of course, that didn’t stop us from doing it.) Many times the girls were at the top of the class, but usually the only jobs open to women were teaching, secretarial, and nursing.

In the area of churches, it seemed to me that people were not really very spiritual; it was more a works-oriented type of religion that was prevalent. Oh, I’m sure there were some people who were deeply committed Christians who were acting out their faith, but there also seemed to be many who just went to church because it was expected and their “piety” didn’t extend past Sunday at noon. (And I suppose you could say the same about today’s Christians.)

In addition to the above examples, I could add that there were subjects that were strictly taboo to discuss. I learned about the “birds and bees” from my sisters and friends and I can tell you that there was a lot of information missing. I remember that the lack of being open about that subject frustrated me at the time, but talking about it just wasn’t done.

Of course, all that changed with the sixties. All the views and beliefs we had held sacred went up in marijuana smoke. In an effort to change the world, we went way overboard and now, looking back at the fifties, they seem heavenly compared to what came afterwards.

In an effort not to seem too pessimistic, I can name many things I like about today’s world that we didn’t have back then: computers, cell phones, washers and driers, dishwashers, AC, GPS, and on and on.

I suppose what’s really important is that we try to appreciate what we have today and do our best to continue to grow spiritually in this crazy mixed up world. According to Don Piper, the “heaven” author, we have a beautiful experience ahead of us.

Now I’ll see what the “Hell” book is all about.

QUENCHING MY THIRST

I never was much of a water drinker when I was growing up. Our family used to keep a cold bottle of water in the refrigerator, and in the summers I would pour from it, but I really preferred to mix Kool Aid in it or just drink a coke. But the best thirst quencher for me by far has always been iced tea.

When we were very small, we had to drink a glass of milk before having the tea, so I would quickly drink it down so I could have my tea. I would put several spoonfuls of sugar in it, squeeze a slice of lemon in, and stir for half an hour to get all that sugar dissolved. How sweet it was, and how great it tasted, especially when I got down to the bottom of the glass with all that lemon flavored sugar still left!!

Nowadays, if you order tea in a restaurant in the South, you’re usually asked if you want sweet or unsweet. I always order unsweet and dump some Sweet’n’Low (not Equal or Splenda) in addition to the lemon. I feel almost sacrilegious doing this because most Southerners order the already-sweetened-with-sugar stuff. The reason is that they like sugar and don’t want to have to stir for thirty minutes. (I’m sure that I will hear from BJ on this since she makes her tea at home and sweetens it while it is warm so the sugar will dissolve quickly.)

When I played tennis, I had a famous concoction that I made to drink while I was playing the match. I filled my thermos jug up with ice and then poured a mixture of 1/3 tea, 1/3 lemon Gatorade, and 1/3 orange juice over the ice. I tried many different drinks on the tennis court, including water, but this one worked best for me and thus was my drink of choice for many years. Also, it was very popular with my tennis friends.

As I mentioned earlier, I didn’t particularly like water, but that has all changed with the bottled water we now drink at home. We had a choice of three different types and sampled all three before deciding on distilled water. There is nothing tastier to me now than to drink a glass of that ice cold water the first thing in the morning; I even take my pills with it. We get no iron or minerals from the distilled water, but I figure we get enough out to eat or otherwise, so I don’t consider that a problem.

However, I may have to go back to tap water exclusively. I read the other day that they have found all sorts of drugs in our drinking water, and I certainly don’t want to miss out on that!!!

SADS AND CLOTHES

Every winter I suffer from SADS (seasonal affected depression syndrome), but this winter has been worse than usual. I think I finally figured out why: this is the first time in many years that I haven’t had to be somewhere every day or at least several times a week. Even last year after I retired, I tutored several days a week, but this year I’ve been as free as a bird. As a result, SADS hit me harder than usual.

I finally began to come out of the worst of it on the trip to New Mexico. The weather out there, especially in south NM was bright and sunny and I just soaked it up. As I said, I began to climb out of the pit.

So now every sunny day or even just a warm day, I try to sit outside for 30 minutes or so to try to get the endorphins that the sun apparently gives me built back up in my brain. I feel much better as a result.

I felt so good in fact that I switched my closets around again – swapped winter clothes out for summer ones and once again I have come up with a huge pile of clothes that I haven’t worn in a year that I need to give away. I think I must be wearing the same old clothes over and over and just forgetting about most of the others.

Or I’m just buying too many and can’t possibly wear them all. This need to have lots of clothes dates back to my childhood. Because I was the youngest, many of the clothes I had were hand-me-downs, and had that worn look about them. Also, people just didn’t have the amount of clothes we have now. But the desire for me to have lots of them started early.

That’s one reason I learned to sew. Mother encouraged us to do this and as soon as I was in high school, I began making many of my skirts and dresses. Thus, I could build up my wardrobe without having to spend lots of money.

You would think that with three girls in the family, we would have been able to borrow each other’s clothes. And BJ and MA did just that; however, they wouldn’t let me in on this unless I signed my life away. Now why would they be so stingy? Actually, they had a good reason because I tended to step out of my clothes each day and leave them on the floor when I undressed. No matter whose it was. You can understand why they cut me out of the deal unless I swore a blood oath to be careful with whatever I borrowed.

I still tend to not hang up my clothes at night, and instead put it on one of the two chairs in the bedroom. But I’m getting better, even in my old age I am learning the old adage: “a place for everything and everything in its place.”

At least I don’t throw them on the floor anymore.

HONG KONG VISIT

In the last blog I mentioned my trip to Hong Kong with Brenda. Ashley, Mike, and children had been there about a year when we made the decision to fly over and spend a week with them. I had my doctor give me some medications to calm me down enough to make the trip, (remember my terror of flying) so armed with valium and another tranquillizer, away we went.

We arrived in Hong Kong after a 25 hour journey (that I barely remember) and were driven to Ashley and Mike’s apartment on the twelfth floor of a modern high rise. They had three bedrooms and two baths with another bedroom suite in back of the kitchen for their live-in nanny, Merly. But best of all, some friends of theirs on the sixth floor were gone for the month and Brenda and I were able to stay in their apartment.

There were several experiences I remember about that fascinating city. The first was that even though I was hung over and jetlagged, I enjoyed the different ethnic restaurants we ate at each night. Next was the shopping. There was a section of town where shop keepers had one booth after another of clothes, purses, furniture, etc. for fabulously low prices. I bought so much I had to buy another suitcase to get it all home.

Another incident that stands out in my mind was the tennis match. For the first time ever Ashley beat me 7-5 in the one set we played (after I had been ahead 5-2). She said will never play me again, and it’s just as well since she now plays all the time in a very high league and I haven’t played in 10 years.

I also remember our train trip into China to visit the city of Quanjo. The bathroom in the train consisted of a hole opening onto the tracks with handles to hold onto. As we rode along, we watched farmers plowing with oxen and very primitive equipment. And everywhere we looked we saw houses and buildings that needed paint.

While in Quanjo, we went to lunch in a beautiful hotel that looked to be at least 4 stars. There was an enormous jade carving in the lobby that must have cost a fortune and the bathrooms were something to behold also. The seven of us settled ourselves at a table and ordered our food. Everything was delicious, but expensive. One thing they forgot to bring us was napkins so we asked for them. They brought one very nice white cloth napkin for the seven of us to share!

Also what I remember about that city besides the fact that it looked very drab and dirty were the hundreds of bicycles everywhere, many of them loaded with broken down cardboard boxes. I never did figure out what that was about. At the zoo, many Chinese people stared at us and one woman even came up to Jordan (who was 2½) and rubbed her hand across the freckles on her shoulder. Jordan had lots of freckles when she was that age and I guess that was unusual in China.

We had a wonderful time while we were there, but soon it was time for us to leave. Our plane took off with me drugged to the hilt and then when we were almost to Taipai, the pilot informed us that there was a typhoon (translated hurricane) there and we would have to turn back. Our new flight plan included landing for an hour in Alaska, and Brenda and I walked around outside so we could feel better about saying we had visited that state. Finally, after a stay overnight in LA at the expense of the airlines, we arrived home, feeling very tired, but happy.

When we got back to the house, Brenda gave me a T shirt that Mike had asked her to give me that read: HONG KONG: I CAME, I SAW, I TOOK A VALIUM. The only thing untrue about that was I took MANY valium.

THE FIRST GRANDCHILD

My mother-in-law used to say that there is something special about the first grandchild --- it wasn’t that she loved Ashley more than the others --- it was just that because she was first, there was something about her that made her different from all the others. I would have to agree with her, and because my beloved T² has taken so much grief in the comment section lately from his mom and aunt, I decided to write about him today.

(By the way, I hope all the readers are checking the comments as well as the posts because the various members of the family are putting wonderful ones on sometimes several days after the blogs are posted. The one I referred to above occurred after I wrote about the NT Club.)

When Ashley first told me she was pregnant, I was not happy, not because I didn’t want grandchildren, I longed for them. The reason I was sad was because they lived in Tulsa and I thought it would be torture for me to have a grandchild I couldn’t see whenever I wanted. (And it was!)

Ashley called me early on November 19 to tell me that her water had broken and she was waiting for Mike to get back into town to drive her to the hospital. He was driving back from somewhere in Arkansas and would be there soon. She was in labor all day and finally the doctors did a C section and delivered a 12 pound 4 ounce boy, a hospital record. How I wanted to be there, but I was in school and would have to wait a week until we could drive out for Thanksgiving weekend.

That little boy was so fat and had such dark hair that he looked like a Native American baby. He grew out of that look and became tall and slim, but at that time he was all folds and fat, so much so that he could hardly open his eyes. But all I wanted to do was to hold him and never put him down.

I was to see him at Christmas and several other times during that first year and every time I couldn’t stand for him to leave. He was the cutest, sweetest baby I could ever hope for. The first big heartbreak came when he was about a year old and Ashley told me they were moving to Phoenix. Tulsa was a one day drive, Phoenix was three. At that time I absolutely hated to fly, so I began investigating ways to get there that were not by plane. Twice I rode cross country by Amtrak, an experience I really enjoyed, even though long and tedious. But it was worth it to see my Tommy at the end and also Jordan, who was two years younger than he.

Then came the time that Ashley and Mike told us they were moving to Hong Kong for a few years. If I thought I was heart broken before, I didn’t know what the word had meant. I remember taking Tommy, who was about three, outside where we looked at the moon together while I taught him the song,

“I see the moon, the moon sees me,
The moon sees the one that I want to see.
God bless the moon and God bless me,
And God bless the one that I want to see.”

I told him that when he got to his new home to just look at the moon and remember that I was looking at it too and we could think of each other. If this sounds sad, it was. It was a very difficult time for me. I had always thought that the ideal life for me was to raise my children and have them all settle nearby where I could see the grandchildren often and be on hand to help out whenever I was needed.

But that’s not the way it worked out, and I have had a very full life going to school and teaching. And I never would have gotten to see Hong Kong! Yes, Brenda and I did fly out to see all of them and it was a great experience. We even went into China for a day. But the best part was being able to see Tommy, Jordan, and Bailey, (the latter I had never seen before because she had been born in Hong Kong). And after three years, they came back to Phoenix where they have been ever since.

All of my grandchildren are unique in their own way and I enjoy them immensely. We have all taken trips together and have had many wonderful shared times. But I say it again, there is something I cannot explain about my feelings for Tommy; I love all of them dearly, but he just happened to be the first and that was special.

KENNER AVENUE

Until I was two years old, I lived on Kenner Avenue, a nice street one half block from Woodmont school where we girls attended 1-8 grades. I don’t have but one memory of that house and that’s not surprising since we moved right at my second birthday.

My father had a friend visiting and I remember climbing up the front steps, going in the door, and when Daddy held his arms out for me, I toddled across the room to him. I recall that I had on a little sun suit (trust me to remember what I was wearing!), so it must have been summer. When I told by family later that I recalled the house, they said that I couldn’t possibly retain information from that far back. But when I began describing the furniture in the room and the location of the dining room and side porch, they all agreed that it was that house.

Next door to us was a family who was just a little odd, certainly different from us, but very likeable. After we moved to Meadow Drive, we went back frequently to visit them and vice versa.

The father was a physics professor at Vanderbilt and was very inventive. He made a little motor from scratch and put it on his bicycle that he rode to work everyday. He also made an ingenious toy by putting roller skate wheels on a little wooden box just large enough for one child. Then he rigged up a track for it, starting at the top of the second story stairs and running it down through the living room into the dining room. I don’t ever remember riding it, I just watched Emory, his little boy, fly down it.

One day, this man began taking strange trips, telling his wife that he was on a secret assignment and couldn’t tell where he was going. These covert journeys continued for several years, and all the while his wife was kept in the dark. On the day that the atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima, he told her that all of his times away from home had been spent on that mission; he could finally talk about it. We all thought that was so neat then, but I later wondered if he had a hard time with the fact that he had been a part of something that was so destructive.

Well, I’ll not get into that argument, but one reason I thought of these people was that Emory, who was a year younger than I, was visiting with us one night when the NTs were in action. I have speculated about what he thought about us and what he told his parents.

One other memory I have of this family. When my own children were babies, I of course fed them baby food. One time I tasted some vanilla pudding I was feeding Ashley, and I was immediately transported back to that family’s kitchen, sitting in a high chair, eating this same pudding.

I never cease to be amazed at the power of our minds and all the memories they can retain.

THE NT CLUB

I don’t remember how our little club started. I don’t even remember all the members. What I do remember is that we were up to no good!

One summer when I was about eight or nine years old, BJ and I began hanging out with Wayne, a boy who lived a few doors down from us. He was BJ’s age and was (is) as nice a guy as you would want to meet. We got the bright idea that we would form a “gang,” our expressed purpose being to frighten the neighbors after dark. Thus, the name “Neighborhood Terrors.” I have a vague recollection that there were other members who came and went, but we were the core group.

What we mostly did was to ring doorbells and run away. Or we might spy on people by peeking in their windows. Then someone came up with the bright idea that we could take the caps from cap guns and tap them with a hammer to make a loud popping sound, about the same sound as those little white twisted pieces of paper we have now that pop when you throw then on a hard surface. For those of you unfamiliar with caps, they were little rolls of paper about ½ inch wide with little black circles interspersed on them at about 1 inch intervals. When they fit into a cap gun, they rolled out as the trigger was pulled, the hammer on the gun hitting the circles and making the loud sound. But the guns could be tricky and we decided that a real hammer was much more effective.

There was a small apartment house on the corner of our street and one night we picked that as our target. As we were sneaking down the driveway in back of the apartments, one of the tenants decided, I guess, that he had had enough. So he came flying out his back door with a sheet over him like a ghost and making a scary sound. Of course, this action was totally unexpected and we fled the scene immediately. But then we regrouped and decided to “attack” from the front. So we sneaked around to the front and BJ and I were happily popping the caps on the window sill of someone else’s apartment when I looked up and here came the same man running toward us from across the lawn.

I remember giggling, and then I just turned and ran. BJ had no idea what was going on and he grabbed her before she realized he was there. He dragged her into his apartment and told his wife to keep an eye on her; he was going after the others. Of course, by then, Wayne and I were long gone and hidden where he couldn’t find us. While BJ was in the apartment, being fussed at by the wife, the telephone rang, and when the lady went to answer it, BJ ran out.

We got back together somehow and decided to go home and hang low for a while. The young couple knew our parents and would probably call them to complain. We knew, of course, if that happened we were in deep you-know-what. But they didn’t call; instead, they talked seriously to us and advised us to refrain from such criminal activities. We took their advice and dismantled our little club.

But BJ and I still talk about the NTs and wonder how on earth we came to get involved in activities that were so foreign to all three of us. We were usually not such delinquents. When I look back on that time, I am still amazed at our behavior!

What will the grandchildren think???

LIFE WITHOUT AC

Yesterday I mentioned the fact that we had no air conditioning in our house when we were growing up. In fact, I don’t know a single one of my friends who did either. I could never have foreseen the difference AC would make in the lives of Americans once that comfort began to creep into our culture. It has completely changed our way of life, and not always for the better.

In the first place, the children spent very little time indoors. After we had eaten breakfast and cleaned (?) our rooms, we immediately wanted to get outside where we could play in the cool of the morning somewhere. BJ and I had a good place on the side of our house under the shade of a mimosa tree. We would set up our "house" with our miniature kitchen furniture and doll beds and play all morning. Or we would ride our bikes up and down the street (there was very little traffic on our street once the fathers left for work). Sometimes we played in the sandbox set up in a corner of the back yard under trees. We had little cars and we could set up an entire little town of houses, usually up on hillsides with long winding driveways leading to them.

We played “cops and robbers” by hiding in various places and chasing each other around with toy pistols, re-enacting the Westerns we saw at the Happiness Club on Saturday afternoons. Our parents never thought twice about our playing these “violent” games, or that we would grow up to be criminals if we did.

At night we could hardly wait for it to get dark and we could play “hide-n-go-seek” with as many neighborhood children we could find. That was the most fun of all because the darkness added an element of excitement to it.

On days it was really hot, Mother would pack us up a picnic lunch and we would go to a public pool for the day. There were two of these: Cascade Plunge close to the fair grounds, or Willow Plunge in Franklin, about twenty miles away. This was quite a sacrifice for Mother because she had red hair and the skin that goes with it. I can remember her now, dressed in the coolest dress she could find, sitting in the shade somewhere watching each one of us. She never went in the water herself and didn’t even own a bathing suit. The only times I ever saw her in shorts (borrowed from one of us) was when she was cleaning the house during the heat of the summer.

The point is that we were outside from morning until we went to bed at night, thoroughly worn out by the games we had played all day. Even if it rained, we played outside if there was no lightening. Rain or shine, we slept soundly all through the night cooled by a breeze brought in by the big attic fan blowing through the open windows.

The advantages of such a lifestyle were tremendous: children learned to use their imaginations, formed lifelong friendships, got plenty of exercise, and were rarely ever obese. Adults spent time with their neighbors, got to know them, and helped each other out.

Now, would I want to give up my AC to go back to that lifestyle? Not on your life, but I do recognize the benefits of what we had without it and I wish we could somehow have the best of both worlds.

Someone smarter than I will have to figure out how, though; it’s too much for me.

ONE ANSWER TO AMERICA’S PROBLEMS

People are always coming up with ways to save America. Some of them sound pretty good, while others seem somewhat farfetched. The latest scheme I heard a few months ago was one I have been thinking about ever since: everyone who owns a home should add a front porch if they don’t already have one and start using it!

The idea was that if people had front porches and sat out on them, they would come to know their neighbors, and our country would then return to a nation of communities. Individuals would begin to be aware of others who were in need and would look after them. Consequently, America could go back to being like we were fifty years or so ago when we cared more for each other.

Of course, that is a gross oversimplification of the problems in our country, but the whole idea brought back memories. The house we grew up in had a pretty good sized front porch with a brick wall running around three sides of it. There were two steps leading up to an opening on one end opposite the front door. We girls spent many hours playing on this “extra room” of our house.

Once when we were little, we were playing a game that involved jumping off the front wall onto the ground below which had some bushes in front of it. I landed smack on a bush stub that poked into a spot near the top of one of my legs. Of course, I cried and Mother was upset with us for playing such a dangerous game. And of course, the older sisters got upset with me for ruining the game. I still have a round scar about ½ inch wide from that injury.

When we grew up and began dating, we sometimes spent time with our dates sitting on the glider “talking.” The genius remembers just such moments, he said, but he thought it was a swing.

Mother and Daddy liked to sit on the porch, which was furnished with this three seated glider and two metal chairs. All had nice cushions on them which we had to grab every time it rained and bring inside. Because we had no AC, it was much cooler to while away the evenings outside than to stay in the stuffy house. They sat in the dark because the lights on the porch and even in the living room attracted insects.

One night they were sitting out there and saw a teenaged boy walking down the street, and when he got to our house, he came on up into the yard. He got about half way to the house and one of my parents to be polite said, “Good evening.” With that, he took off running back up the street. Unfortunately for him, they knew exactly who he was because his Irish setter who went everywhere he did was with him. They never said a word to him; I’m sure he was mortified to be caught doing what a lot of boys his age did that day and time: try to get a peek in an open window at one of three teenaged girls in a state of undress.

But back to the idea of front porches for everyone: the more I think about the idea the more I like it, but I’m not sure the rest of America would agree. Now that most everyone has air conditioning, why should they fight the heat and the bugs to sit outside? We value our comforts too much.

MORE ON HONESTY

Yesterday I used the expression “honest as the day is long.” I became curious as to the meaning and origin of the saying and looked it up online. Here is what I found.

First of all, it was coined by Henry David Thoreau, the marcher to a different drum (he made up that turn of phrase also). He was not only considered to be an honest man himself, he was a man who acted on his beliefs, even if he had to spend time in jail for his actions. Because Thoreau did not believe in the Mexican War and didn’t want his money to support it, he refused to pay his income taxes. Of course, the government was not sympathetic and he was jailed for a time. I wonder what would happen if all the Americans who don’t support the war in Iraq declined to pay their taxes. Interesting thought. Anyway, that’s the origin of the saying.

And now for the meaning: If a person is described thus, he/she is considered to be “a consistently reliable person. The implication seems to be that he or she is honest all the time, 24 hours a day.” (This quote is from the Dictionary of Cliches by James Rogers).

So there you have it; if there is a more apt description of my genius, I don’t know what it could be. And --- I could say the same for my dear son-in-law, Mike (or Miktrue in his recent comments). I’m sure that Ashley was drawn to him because of this trait as well as his many other wonderful characteristics. I agree with him when he says that he and the genius have many of the same values.

HANDSOME AND HONEST

The genius and I were discussing yesterday’s blog, and it occurred to both of us that I didn’t even mention qualities such as honesty and integrity when I was considering my choices. In thinking about it, I decided that omitting those was yet another sign of the times.

Characteristics like truthfulness and uprightness were traits we took for granted when growing up in the fifties in our part of Nashville. We just naively considered everyone to be like that and if people were not, they were outcasts. Classmates who cheated on tests or were disrespectful to adults or even drank were not well thought of, and we girls would not dream of going out with someone like that. And they didn’t seem to want anything to do with us either.

I remember dating a guy I met in college and we were becoming pretty serious. While I was visiting with him and his family in Memphis, he flagrantly lied to his mother in front of me. And the lie wasn’t even about a particularly important issue. It didn’t take me too long to figure out if he lied to his mother about something so trivial, he would do the same to his wife. It took a few more months for our relationship to disintegrate, but I always knew the beginning of the collapse started with that incident.

So those features were important to me, but as I said, I took it for granted that anyone I was attracted to for any length of time would have the same values I had.

Of course, the genius is as “honest as the day is long” as the old saying goes (I’m not sure what it means). But I remember his mother telling me that he didn’t believe in exaggerating or telling “little white lies” even if it meant hurting someone’s feelings. So I learned not to ask him questions that I didn’t want a completely truthful answer about.

One funny thing happened just after we began dating. He had to go away to engineering camp for a week or two and after he got back, we heard a song on the radio. He reached over and turned it up and said, “I like that song; I heard it on the way to town one night while I was gone.”

I looked at him kind of funny and said, “You didn’t have a car up there.”

BUSTED!!!

It so happened that he had borrowed a car to go into town to see a girl who was “Miss ________ County” at the local fair. I could tell he felt really bad and wanted no deceit in the matter. And what could I say anyway; we had only been dating a couple of weeks when he left and we had no “commitment” at all. We have laughed over that incident many times.

This June we will have been married forty-eight years, and he still values honesty as much as he ever did, but he is much more tolerant of those who don’t have such a high standard.

And besides, at our age, who can tell the difference between telling a lie and being forgetful?

SMORSGASBORG

Last night we dined at church where we had another fine meal for $6.00 per person. The fare was the following: pork chops, grilled chicken, mixed vegetables, green peas, mac and cheese, hot rolls, and cherry cobbler for dessert. That was the main table; there was also a salad bar, baked potato bar, pizza, hot dogs, and a sugarless dessert. This menu is typical of what we are offered each Wednesday night, and it is usually very good.

What I like to do in any situation where there is a large selection of food is to take a little bit of several items, test them out, and then go back and get what I liked best. If I had done that last night, I would have gone back and gotten more macaroni – it was made from scratch and delicious.

Also, when I eat meals like this I am often reminded of what my mother used to advise us girls about dating. Go out with different boys, learn what you like about each one, and then when you find one who has the qualities that are important to you, grab him. That’s a loose paraphrase of what she once told me. So I began my somewhat unconscious list.

First, I desired someone who would “amount to something.” (Those were mother’s words although it was usually said negatively, “he won’t amount to a thing.”) This translated in my mind into a boy who had ambition and a good work ethic.

A close second to that was intelligence. I was always drawn to guys who were really bright, especially when I began considering them as eligible husbands.

Then they also had to be dependable. I knew plenty of males who had the above qualities who weren’t necessarily very responsible individuals.

It’s great to have a list like this, and several times I went out with guys who fit the bill. What I was leaving out, however, was my “heart” or that certain “chemistry” that had to be involved when it’s really “true love.”

So when I first laid eyes on the genius at the frat house, it was my heart that he captured. The fact that he all the other qualifications was just icing on the cake. And also, what girl could resist such a handsome fellow who played the piano?

WHO’S WATCHING?

Our pastor mentioned a Bible verse in his sermon some weeks ago that made me sit up and take notice. I had heard it many times before but this time it really caused me to think.

The verse he read is Hebrews 12:1 written as a continuation of chapter 11 that has listed many of the Old Testament prophets who had such strong faith to get them through their trials on earth. They were wonderful examples for us to follow and should inspire us to greater things in our own life.

Then the verse that he read: “Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.” (NIV)

The minister went on to say how wonderful it is that we might be watched by such important biblical people as Moses, Isaiah, and Paul. Without seeming to be disrespectful or sacrilegious, I was not too happy with that idea.

Oh, I’m not worried about Moses, Paul, or Isaiah; the people I began thinking about were my parents!! Are they aware when I let the dishes pile up and leave the beds unmade? Are they watching me when I drink a glass of wine too many? (They were staunch teetotalers.) Or when I waste time playing computer games?

Then I took it a step further --- what about the genius’ parents? Are they cringing every time I fling a hateful comment at their son, which I’ve been known to do? Or not have a dinner ready for him when he comes home? (Actually, I believe my mother-in-law would understand that one.)

But you see my point. I have thought and thought about this and have decided that “witness” in this case means “example” or "model" (at least, I hope so).

But if the other is true, that there really are a cloud of people looking at us, I take solace in this one fact: Watch out, kids and grandkids!! I will be watching!!

THE DREADED CALL

It came on Saturday afternoon, the call we didn’t want! Jim IV said to get Jesse ready – he was coming to get her. When he first told me, my voice went up two octaves, as I said, “You didn’t even give me any warning!” He answered, “I am now; I won’t be there for 30 minutes.” I’m sure he thought this was the best way to break the news to us so we wouldn’t mope a long time.

So I called upstairs and told the genius to bring down her cage, (which she used maybe twice in the months she was here), and her blankets, etc. I got her food and meds ready, plus her bed, and we stacked them up by the door.

From the moment that I raised my voice on the telephone, the dogs knew something was up. Rufus, especially, was suspicious and kept running around sniffing everything we brought into the room. Then we had a few minutes to hold her and cuddle up with her before she was to leave.

Soon Jim IV and Jay arrived to take her to her new house. We arranged for a visit on Sunday afternoon and then for the three days of dog sitting I will be doing this week.

Yesterday we arrived at the new house with Rufus in tow and very excited about seeing Jesse (I told him, of course, where we were going). The two dogs jumped all each other and began running all over the house like they do here. But there was an unforeseen problem: they have hardwood floors and Rufus and Jesse slid all over the place, unable to get a good grip with their feet. It was hilarious to watch.

So today (Monday) Jesse is back with us again. The two are peacefully sleeping side by side in the sunshine. And actually, I think it is all for the best. Both dogs get to be “onlies” at home, but they still have plenty of opportunity to play together during the week.

ANSWER TO ASHLEY AND MIKE

In reading the comments to yesterday’s blog, I had to dedicate today’s post to answering my wonderful daughter and her lovable husband. I think I could easily make it a compare/contrast essay if I wanted to remember all the rules of writing I used to teach. But I don’t want to take the trouble, so I’ll just do it without the rules.

First, we have my sweet daughter who understands me perfectly (because she knows me well after all these years). She remembers all the sacrifices I made for her: driving her to all those vacation spots, (actually that was not a sacrifice) washing, ironing (?) cooking, cleaning, nagging her to clean, helping her with her math homework (oops, that was the genius), and turning the dining room into a sewing room so she could go to a college where she had to wear dresses or skirts everyday! So her remark about my non-cooking was so nice, making me feel like I am appreciated.

And then comes the next comment. Can you believe that a son-in-law can be so disrespectful to the grandmother of his children? It’s no wonder that his oldest son feels free to leave comments on the blog questioning my reasoning powers. But this time my honesty and integrity are being doubted. What will readers think?

So I feel obligated to answer. OK, maybe it was wishful thinking that I cook (I use the term loosely) 4-5 nights a week. But when we do eat out, they are places that are not TOO expensive, especially church night. I can’t cook for what we pay those nights. (I exclude weekends in all this; they are made for splurge-type meals.)

And I must admit that Mike is somewhat right about the genius eating a light meal at night. He usually does want another full meal but has gotten pretty good about eating what I make. Some nights it really is a BLT or even a frozen dinner. As to the ice cream, he asked me to quit buying it so he wouldn’t be tempted. Instead, he raids the pantry to see what goodies may be lurking there. The other night he discovered sweet and salty granola bars and finished them off in nothing flat.

In our family the genius is famous for the amounts he eats, and we all know that he would be huge if it weren’t for his exercising. But, for the record, he has gotten more conscientious about his evening meals because he knows that for him it is dangerous to go to bed on a full stomach. He’s had enough choking “spells” to make him very cautious in this area.

So, Mike, I wasn’t just writing fiction about Jim’s eating; I have just been remiss about letting the rest of the family know about it. I can hear you now saying “I’ll have to see it to believe it.”

About my cooking, I COULD have been exaggerating a little. But I do have to keep up appearances about it; otherwise, I might embarrass the sisters.

GROCERY SHOPPING

This morning I went to the grocery store, a task I loathe and put off as long as I can. I put it on almost the same level as a trip to the dentist, but not quite. Anyway, we were out of a lot of stuff, so off I went.

I usually shop at the nearest one, a Harris Teeter about 2 miles from our house. It is small and sometimes so crowded that I have a hard time getting up and down the aisles. This morning, however, there were hardly any shoppers there; I guess they were home sleeping late like I was longing to do and would be if it weren’t for my two furry friends. And the shelves were well stocked, which is also unusual in this small store. I was able to really stock up and, hopefully, won’t have to go back for a while.

Even with my little VIC card, which saved me over $17.00, I still spent $175. That’s really bad for us since we eat out a lot. Looking back at the week, starting last Saturday, this was our eating schedule:

Saturday --- Lunch at our favorite Mexican restaurant (we eat lunch there just about every Saturday.)
Saturday --- Dinner out with 3 other couple friends at Sportsman’s Grill
Sunday --- Lunch with Brenda at Davis-Kidd,
Dinner at a sports bar to watch March Madness
Monday --- Dinner at home
Tuesday --- Dinner at the Club in the bar (good prices)
Wednesday --- Dinner at church ($12 for 2 of us)
Thursday --- Dinner at a meat and three (fried chicken night)
Friday --- Dinner at the Club in the bar

OK, OK, so I cooked one night last week, but I will say it was an unusual week. Usually, I cook Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday, and sometimes on Sunday nights.

My family knows how I don’t like to cook anymore, so the above schedule doesn’t shock them. But to those for whom this is a surprise, let it be known that the genius eats a big lunch at school everyday and doesn’t require a big meal at night. So to those members who are aghast, I don’t feel guilty in the least. (Well, maybe I did a little when I saw the bill at the grocery, and I definitely will if we don’t eat at home a lot this week!)

I strolled into the living room and saw the two darlings just mellowing out. Couldn't resist the photo-op.

MEMORIES

Several people have commented on my memory since I have been writing this blog. “How do you remember such things?” they ask me. The answer is “I don’t know --- I just have these recollections in my mind, and I spout them out.” They may not even be right, but I go with the way I remember them.

There’s one memory, or at least part of it, I had forgotten that BJ reminded me of. The part I don’t remember I guess I buried out of guilt, but I’ll tell it like she says it was.

We were visiting Mother’s cousins, Bob and Pat, (remember Bob was the wife in this twosome) in Orlando when we were about 8 and 11 years old. We were going over to Daytona Beach the next day just for the day and we had enough money for one beach ball, but not two. Mother and Daddy obviously thought that one was enough and wouldn’t cough up the money for another one. So it was up to us to find the money.

I remember that we looked up and down the streets in the gutters, etc. for change. And then comes the lapse of memory for me. BJ said that when we couldn’t find enough on the sidewalks and streets, we began looking inside the house in various places --- in chair cushions, under the furniture and worst of all, on dresser tops. We found enough change, but in effect, we stole it. No wonder I don’t wish to remember that.

Maybe that’s the reason we didn’t go back the following year --- we weren’t invited. We went two years in a row and loved every minute of it, but I do wonder why we never went back. That’s one of the million questions I wish I could ask my parents.

That’s also why I write this blog --- so my children and grandchildren won’t have to say that --- all of the questions would have been answered. Or at least a lot of them.

TIME CHANGES SONG LYRICS

I heard a Vince Gill song the other day, and I liked it so much I downloaded it to my computer. In fact, the album was so good that I bought the whole thing. But the song I liked best brings back memories of when the genius and I were dating.

The chorus goes like this:

I get weak in the knees, and I lose my breath.
I try to speak, but words won’t come, I’m so scared to death.
When you smile that smile, my world turns upside down,
Whenever you come around.

I well remember that weak kneed feeling when after a date with him, I would just float up the stairs in a dream world. That’s when I knew that he was the one. I had never felt like that about a boy before.

Now I still am week kneed, but it’s all those years of tennis and old age setting in. And I can’t get my breath because I’m in such bad physical shape. But one thing is still true: whenever he comes around, my world turns upside down – I have to fix meals and cater to his needs.