After several responses to last week’s column, I was forced to recognize how full of gloom and doom it was. As I wrote it, I just tried to include all the crises that came to my mind.
My sister admonished me, saying she had read my column at night and probably would not be able to sleep, and it was all my fault.
A friend called from out of town and told me that things were never as bad as they seemed. She tried to cheer me up. Another friend admitted that this was not my normal mood, being so negative.
And they were correct. I try to see the bright side of life every day and realize how blessed I am.
I have known a few persons who always saw only the thorns on the rose bushes, never the roses. This can become a habit or an addiction, to just look for the negative in everything.
During my childhood, I knew a number of people who suffered extremely painful illnesses, and yet they did not complain. These friends tried to offset their conditions by refusing to give in to them.
I often think of the saying I heard, one fellow ask another, “Do you believe in suffering in silence?”
This fellow answered, “No, when I suffer, everyone is going to know about it.”
Even those of us who try to remain positive, sometimes face times when all we see are the negatives. One of the best prescriptions for changing our attitudes is to make a list of all our blessings. Some of us would be surprised to actually recognize how many ways we are blessed.
If we have a loving and caring family, we are rich indeed. Family members who encourage us in our endeavors and efforts are jewels that cannot be bought.
And then there are our friends, who stand by us in all situations. Friends are ready to believe the best about us and continue to care about us, even with warts and all.
If we have our health, we are blessed beyond that of many who live out their days in hospitals and other care facilities. We often take our health for granted and fail to realize what a blessing it is.
While I was still in elementary school, I recall one of my teachers telling us that the three necessities for life were food, clothing and shelter. Here in our area most people do have these necessities.
Having something to do that is worthwhile and fulfilling is an advantage that we do not recognize often times. When you stop and think of it, most people will have to work most of their lives and if the work is not rewarding, then it becomes drudgery. What a joy when a person can find worthwhile work that benefits others.
This weekend my granddaughter and her family came from Oklahoma City and took us to lunch on Saturday. Her dad joined us for the meal and some good visiting.
On Sunday after church we went to another granddaughter’s home to help celebrate her youngest daughter’s fifth birthday. While there we had a great meal of hamburgers, topped off with ice cream and birthday cake. We also got the chance to visit with another group of relatives. What a great weekend.He
10-29-2009
#458
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Plenty of reasons for stress
In case you haven’t noticed, we live in a stressful time. The situation appears to become more serious each day.
I’ve often wondered how athletic coaches survive each season. They are pushed and pulled in so many directions and no way can they please everybody. Players complain, parents complain, fans complain. How are they able to throw off all the problems and not end up with a heart attack or a stroke?
However coaches’ problems are just one area of concern. We face many life-threatening situations in today’s world. One of the main worries is that of terrorism. How safe are we? Are we going to be attacked again on our own territory? How will we end the two wars in which we are involved now?
These are all concerns that keep us awake at night, causing headaches and digestive upsets
Then there are the weather related disasters, things over which we have no control. People on the west coast are battling fires, while some on the east coast are dealing with floods. In between the two coasts, tornadoes are often a major worry.
Added to all this is the present global financial crisis. We face problems we’ve never had to deal with in earlier times. Yes, I know we were confronted with the Great Depression at one time and shortly thereafter the war to end all wars. I certainly do not want to go through either of these again.
Families worry about being able to pay their bills, or if the breadwinner will be let go from his/her job. Some students have had to drop out of college or delay beginning college because of a lack of funds. This is sad because these young people are our future leaders and tax payers.
With all these problems it seems the world is in an upheaval. Did we not learn anything from our previous experiences? During and after the severe depression, my family along with many others, learned to be thrifty and conserve whatever could be repaired and reused.
In this day of immediate gratification, we spend money we don’t have. Some of our young adults do not realize that purchases charged to their credit cards have to be repaid at some point. However, they are not totally to blame for this, because their parents and other adults have done the same and set an unwise example for these persons.
In addition to all these problems, along comes swine flu. Are you as confused about this condition and how to treat it as I am? One doctor says those who are vulnerable should receive this vaccine, while another medical professional indicates, or at least hints, that this treatment may not be safe? The flu itself has been compared to the serious strain of flu that hit the world in 1918.
My grandmother related stories regarding that time and how bad it was. She remained free of this illness, but went from one neighbor to another to care for those who were suffering with it.
I find it really strange that at this critical time in our history that some persons want to delete the name of God in our pledge of allegiance. I think we need that now more than ever.erro
10-22-2009
#457
I’ve often wondered how athletic coaches survive each season. They are pushed and pulled in so many directions and no way can they please everybody. Players complain, parents complain, fans complain. How are they able to throw off all the problems and not end up with a heart attack or a stroke?
However coaches’ problems are just one area of concern. We face many life-threatening situations in today’s world. One of the main worries is that of terrorism. How safe are we? Are we going to be attacked again on our own territory? How will we end the two wars in which we are involved now?
These are all concerns that keep us awake at night, causing headaches and digestive upsets
Then there are the weather related disasters, things over which we have no control. People on the west coast are battling fires, while some on the east coast are dealing with floods. In between the two coasts, tornadoes are often a major worry.
Added to all this is the present global financial crisis. We face problems we’ve never had to deal with in earlier times. Yes, I know we were confronted with the Great Depression at one time and shortly thereafter the war to end all wars. I certainly do not want to go through either of these again.
Families worry about being able to pay their bills, or if the breadwinner will be let go from his/her job. Some students have had to drop out of college or delay beginning college because of a lack of funds. This is sad because these young people are our future leaders and tax payers.
With all these problems it seems the world is in an upheaval. Did we not learn anything from our previous experiences? During and after the severe depression, my family along with many others, learned to be thrifty and conserve whatever could be repaired and reused.
In this day of immediate gratification, we spend money we don’t have. Some of our young adults do not realize that purchases charged to their credit cards have to be repaid at some point. However, they are not totally to blame for this, because their parents and other adults have done the same and set an unwise example for these persons.
In addition to all these problems, along comes swine flu. Are you as confused about this condition and how to treat it as I am? One doctor says those who are vulnerable should receive this vaccine, while another medical professional indicates, or at least hints, that this treatment may not be safe? The flu itself has been compared to the serious strain of flu that hit the world in 1918.
My grandmother related stories regarding that time and how bad it was. She remained free of this illness, but went from one neighbor to another to care for those who were suffering with it.
I find it really strange that at this critical time in our history that some persons want to delete the name of God in our pledge of allegiance. I think we need that now more than ever.erro
10-22-2009
#457
Thursday, October 15, 2009
We need to discuss cancer
For the past eleven years, I have observed October 9th as a special day in my life. That was the day I underwent cancer surgery.
Telling this again reminds me of my Mother’s brother who, along with his wife, visited in our home regularly.
The conversation would be going along smoothly and Uncle John would look around and in a rather loud voice ask, “Say, did I ever tell you about so and so?”
My aunt would lean over toward us, his audience, and quietly say, “Yes, you’ve told them numerous times, but you all are getting ready to hear it again.”
Now I certainly do not intend to make light of the subject of cancer, but telling my story again is like getting on my soapbox. At this point, I am more concerned with the times after cancer.
During the period of my diagnosis, surgery and later during the chemotherapy, it was like moving through a large black tunnel, with no visible light at the end.
However with the love and support of my family members and so many friends, I worked my way through that dark tunnel. I believe that anyone who goes through this experience cannot do so without learning much about themselves and others.
For one thing you have to learn who you really are. Maybe that sounds strange to you, but you do a lot of thinking during those days when you don’t feel like doing anything other than staying immobile.
We have questions regarding our life: why did this happen to me when there is no history of cancer in any of our family; am I going to survive and what kind of life can I have afterwards? These, and many other questions crowd your thoughts.
In my view, a positive attitude and encouragement from others are as vital to recovery as is treatment of chemo or radiation, or whatever.
When I went for my treatments, so many of the other patients looked totally defeated. Their faces and demeanor showed that they had given up.
It is surprising how easily we chemo patients bonded. We talked about the status of our treatments, our families and especially the little ones. Each of us thought we had the cutest, smartest grandkids and great-grandkids in the world.
Although most of the cancer patients were middle aged or older, a few were young adults. One young man I met said he had been diagnosed nine years earlier and had taken treatments off and on since that time.
The breast cancer support group sponsored by the American Cancer Society was a great source of encouragement and support to many of us. We met once a month and discussed our problems, and serious as it was, we always had a few laughs. This was particularly true when we talked about our hair. When I related my experience of losing my hair in the shower and worrying that it would stop up the shower drain, they all got a laugh.
I do not know why the Lord has given me these extra years, but for whatever reason, I am most grateful.
As I’m certain most of you are aware, October is National Breast Cancer Awareness month, so ladies, get those mammograms and wear something pink to show your support.
10-15-2009
#456
Telling this again reminds me of my Mother’s brother who, along with his wife, visited in our home regularly.
The conversation would be going along smoothly and Uncle John would look around and in a rather loud voice ask, “Say, did I ever tell you about so and so?”
My aunt would lean over toward us, his audience, and quietly say, “Yes, you’ve told them numerous times, but you all are getting ready to hear it again.”
Now I certainly do not intend to make light of the subject of cancer, but telling my story again is like getting on my soapbox. At this point, I am more concerned with the times after cancer.
During the period of my diagnosis, surgery and later during the chemotherapy, it was like moving through a large black tunnel, with no visible light at the end.
However with the love and support of my family members and so many friends, I worked my way through that dark tunnel. I believe that anyone who goes through this experience cannot do so without learning much about themselves and others.
For one thing you have to learn who you really are. Maybe that sounds strange to you, but you do a lot of thinking during those days when you don’t feel like doing anything other than staying immobile.
We have questions regarding our life: why did this happen to me when there is no history of cancer in any of our family; am I going to survive and what kind of life can I have afterwards? These, and many other questions crowd your thoughts.
In my view, a positive attitude and encouragement from others are as vital to recovery as is treatment of chemo or radiation, or whatever.
When I went for my treatments, so many of the other patients looked totally defeated. Their faces and demeanor showed that they had given up.
It is surprising how easily we chemo patients bonded. We talked about the status of our treatments, our families and especially the little ones. Each of us thought we had the cutest, smartest grandkids and great-grandkids in the world.
Although most of the cancer patients were middle aged or older, a few were young adults. One young man I met said he had been diagnosed nine years earlier and had taken treatments off and on since that time.
The breast cancer support group sponsored by the American Cancer Society was a great source of encouragement and support to many of us. We met once a month and discussed our problems, and serious as it was, we always had a few laughs. This was particularly true when we talked about our hair. When I related my experience of losing my hair in the shower and worrying that it would stop up the shower drain, they all got a laugh.
I do not know why the Lord has given me these extra years, but for whatever reason, I am most grateful.
As I’m certain most of you are aware, October is National Breast Cancer Awareness month, so ladies, get those mammograms and wear something pink to show your support.
10-15-2009
#456
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Family meals make life rich
For a while now, I’ve been traveling a journey to the past. Many of the memories of earlier happenings and events are still so fresh in my mind. Some of these memories are clearer than recalling what I had for breakfast this morning.
Speaking of breakfast, one rule at our house when we were growing up was that we ate together as a family in the mornings and again at night.
Our morning meal usually consisted of fruit juice, cereal, bacon, ham or sausage, eggs and biscuits or toast. Usually on Sunday mornings, Mother cooked pork chops with brown cream gravy. What a feast!
It never occurred to us to leave for school with a piece of toast or a doughnut. Later when I became a teen, I often spent the night with one of my girl friends. Sometimes we had a soda for breakfast and as sure as shooting, I would become nauseated.
After Ray and I were married and the children came along, we continued to make a serious effort to eat together as a family, most especially at night.
While sitting at the table, we discussed the events of the day and often times mentioned problems we had.
Once when one of the boys had a friend over to eat with us, this young guest said something about, “My ole lady.” Ray laid his fork down on his plate and looked this boy in the eye and said, “Son, are you talking about your mother?”
“Yeah,” he said.
Ray replied, “In our house you do not call her ’Your ole lady.’ She is your mother.”
I sometimes think that rudeness has overtaken our nation. This does not just concern the young children and teens, but look at some of the adults some of whom are so rude in speech and manners.
My siblings and I were taught to say, “Please, thank you, yes sir, no sir” and other polite expressions.
Some parents are so busy making a living, they fail to see the importance of making a life. Many of us do not make enough time for our children.
In our fast-paced world, it is not always possible to have our meals together as a family. Many times a father works more than one job or is on shift work and does not have the opportunity to eat with his family. I think this is a real detriment to having close family relations, but on the other hand, the children can recognize the quality time they do have with their parents is special.
I think the love of reading was instilled in my children early in life and though they are all adults now, they still enjoy reading.
Ray began taking David fishing when he was probably about six years old. When there are several children in a family, it’s helpful if parents can spend some time alone with each child. This forms a close bond between parents and their children.
I’m sure that many parents feel the same as I do: if we could just go back and do ‘parenthood’ over again, we would surely do a better job, but that is not possible. We need to be grateful for the things we did do right.
10-8-2009
#455
Speaking of breakfast, one rule at our house when we were growing up was that we ate together as a family in the mornings and again at night.
Our morning meal usually consisted of fruit juice, cereal, bacon, ham or sausage, eggs and biscuits or toast. Usually on Sunday mornings, Mother cooked pork chops with brown cream gravy. What a feast!
It never occurred to us to leave for school with a piece of toast or a doughnut. Later when I became a teen, I often spent the night with one of my girl friends. Sometimes we had a soda for breakfast and as sure as shooting, I would become nauseated.
After Ray and I were married and the children came along, we continued to make a serious effort to eat together as a family, most especially at night.
While sitting at the table, we discussed the events of the day and often times mentioned problems we had.
Once when one of the boys had a friend over to eat with us, this young guest said something about, “My ole lady.” Ray laid his fork down on his plate and looked this boy in the eye and said, “Son, are you talking about your mother?”
“Yeah,” he said.
Ray replied, “In our house you do not call her ’Your ole lady.’ She is your mother.”
I sometimes think that rudeness has overtaken our nation. This does not just concern the young children and teens, but look at some of the adults some of whom are so rude in speech and manners.
My siblings and I were taught to say, “Please, thank you, yes sir, no sir” and other polite expressions.
Some parents are so busy making a living, they fail to see the importance of making a life. Many of us do not make enough time for our children.
In our fast-paced world, it is not always possible to have our meals together as a family. Many times a father works more than one job or is on shift work and does not have the opportunity to eat with his family. I think this is a real detriment to having close family relations, but on the other hand, the children can recognize the quality time they do have with their parents is special.
I think the love of reading was instilled in my children early in life and though they are all adults now, they still enjoy reading.
Ray began taking David fishing when he was probably about six years old. When there are several children in a family, it’s helpful if parents can spend some time alone with each child. This forms a close bond between parents and their children.
I’m sure that many parents feel the same as I do: if we could just go back and do ‘parenthood’ over again, we would surely do a better job, but that is not possible. We need to be grateful for the things we did do right.
10-8-2009
#455
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Well, do you have a story?
Have you ever heard the statement, “Everybody has a story?” If we had each of our friends and relatives write his life story, everyone would be different. I’m sure many of us would be surprised, perhaps shocked or even proud. It would be inspiring to learn of the hardships these persons had overcome.
Could you tell from where your parents came and what their lifestyle was? Were they farmers, or miners, or accountants?
Were your parents older when you were born, or had they barely turned of legal age?
I often think back to incidents in my childhood and one of the very first things I remember is riding home in the back seat of our old car. I’m not sure about the make of the car, nor the model year, but I do recall that it had those isinglass snap-in pieces that served as window coverings. I had my head in Mother’s lap because I had just had my tonsils out and we were on our way home. I was two years old at that time.
Maybe you grew up in a rural area, a large city or a small town? Where would you prefer to live today? It seems to me that there are some places that just echo the word ‘home.’
Did you have friends or acquaintances of other cultures? I always felt special because we lived in an area that had several different nationalities represented. At one house we had a German family who lived across the street from us, and a Norwegian couple next door to us. Both families had unique manners and practices that were different from ours.
The Norwegian neighbor always brought out some sort of sweet treat when we visited, even if we just dropped over to borrow a cup of sugar or an egg. This couple was polite and respected the property of others.
Another time when we lived on a different street, our nearby neighbors were natives of England. We loved hearing them talk. The father worked in a relative’s bakery and they always had doughnuts or cinnamon rolls or some such pastry at their house. There were a number of children in this family and when I sat with Margaret at lunch in school, she was agreeable to swapping part of our lunches. She would take a part of my cheese and crackers in exchange for a jellyroll or doughnut.
Coming from Texas, I never knew much about Indian tribes until we moved over to Antlers in Southeastern Oklahoma. There I met a Choctaw woman who became one of my dearest friends. She was a compassionate person and very energetic. She has remained a special person to me to this day.
When our house was being built here, we lived in the country for several years. Some of our city relatives were visiting once and one of them asked, “Ray, what do you all do for entertainment?”
“Well, once in a while the road grader comes down this road, and at times, we’ve had some crop dusters fly over.”
While living in the country, we did come to appreciate the use of modern conveniences; such as an all weather road, availability of drinking water and being able to do the laundry at home.
10-01-2009
#454
Could you tell from where your parents came and what their lifestyle was? Were they farmers, or miners, or accountants?
Were your parents older when you were born, or had they barely turned of legal age?
I often think back to incidents in my childhood and one of the very first things I remember is riding home in the back seat of our old car. I’m not sure about the make of the car, nor the model year, but I do recall that it had those isinglass snap-in pieces that served as window coverings. I had my head in Mother’s lap because I had just had my tonsils out and we were on our way home. I was two years old at that time.
Maybe you grew up in a rural area, a large city or a small town? Where would you prefer to live today? It seems to me that there are some places that just echo the word ‘home.’
Did you have friends or acquaintances of other cultures? I always felt special because we lived in an area that had several different nationalities represented. At one house we had a German family who lived across the street from us, and a Norwegian couple next door to us. Both families had unique manners and practices that were different from ours.
The Norwegian neighbor always brought out some sort of sweet treat when we visited, even if we just dropped over to borrow a cup of sugar or an egg. This couple was polite and respected the property of others.
Another time when we lived on a different street, our nearby neighbors were natives of England. We loved hearing them talk. The father worked in a relative’s bakery and they always had doughnuts or cinnamon rolls or some such pastry at their house. There were a number of children in this family and when I sat with Margaret at lunch in school, she was agreeable to swapping part of our lunches. She would take a part of my cheese and crackers in exchange for a jellyroll or doughnut.
Coming from Texas, I never knew much about Indian tribes until we moved over to Antlers in Southeastern Oklahoma. There I met a Choctaw woman who became one of my dearest friends. She was a compassionate person and very energetic. She has remained a special person to me to this day.
When our house was being built here, we lived in the country for several years. Some of our city relatives were visiting once and one of them asked, “Ray, what do you all do for entertainment?”
“Well, once in a while the road grader comes down this road, and at times, we’ve had some crop dusters fly over.”
While living in the country, we did come to appreciate the use of modern conveniences; such as an all weather road, availability of drinking water and being able to do the laundry at home.
10-01-2009
#454
Monday, September 21, 2009
A ‘Roomba’ No Kin to Rumba
Sometimes I wonder if I was born fifty years too soon, or if I’m just not ready for this electronic age. My, there is so much to learn!
When one of your great-grandchildren advises you on how to take a photo on your cell phone, do you feel totally useless? I enjoy using my computer and usually have no serious problems with it, but there are times when I feel like Ned in the first reader.
I guess these thoughts are the result of some happenings at my sister’s home recently. In the first place, she was given a birthday gift of a “roomba.” I had no clue as to what this was, and guess I was too embarrassed to ask.
After several conversations regarding this new product, at least new to me, she finally explained that it was a different kind of vacuum cleaner. This is the small round instrument that travels the carpet without anyone holding onto it to guide it. One of the reasons I was confused when she told me about it, was due to the fact that I thought she was saying she got a rumba.
But, back to the cleaner. Her daughter kept asking her if she had tried it out yet, and Sis made one excuse after another. Finally, she just confessed that she did not know how to use it and had not taken the time to read the manual.
If ever there was a stickler for reading a manual prior to use, it was my husband. My son-in-law accompanied Ray to look at cars one day. Don said, “I thought Ray was going to sit down and read the entire manual before we left the car dealership.”
After my niece had given her mother instructions on using her new tool, my sister did a few trial runs. I gathered that one of the vital things regarding the use of this cleaner is to be certain to set the stops, so that the machine stays within the boundaries where you want it.
My niece retrieved the cleaner and took it to her house to try it out. She said she set a table leaf to keep it within a certain room, but when she checked on it, the machine had gone over the leaf and was cleaning in an adjoining room.
The latest news from last week is that my sister had used the vacuum and was pleased with it.
Several years ago my sister’s other daughter gave her a fancy new electronic toothbrush for Christmas. When Sis told me about this, I asked how she liked it. “Oh, I really don’t know, I haven’t used it yet.” As time rocked on, I would periodically ask Sis about the new item and she gave various excuses for not using it.
Finally, one day she confessed that she was afraid of it. I told her to read the manual and she responded that she had done that, but was still afraid of it.
Several years later her daughter Terry was moving out of state and Sis approached her and asked if she would like the never-used toothbrush. Terry accepted the offer with gratitude and so far, I’ve not heard of any dire reactions resulting from use of the toothbrush.
9-17-2009
#452
When one of your great-grandchildren advises you on how to take a photo on your cell phone, do you feel totally useless? I enjoy using my computer and usually have no serious problems with it, but there are times when I feel like Ned in the first reader.
I guess these thoughts are the result of some happenings at my sister’s home recently. In the first place, she was given a birthday gift of a “roomba.” I had no clue as to what this was, and guess I was too embarrassed to ask.
After several conversations regarding this new product, at least new to me, she finally explained that it was a different kind of vacuum cleaner. This is the small round instrument that travels the carpet without anyone holding onto it to guide it. One of the reasons I was confused when she told me about it, was due to the fact that I thought she was saying she got a rumba.
But, back to the cleaner. Her daughter kept asking her if she had tried it out yet, and Sis made one excuse after another. Finally, she just confessed that she did not know how to use it and had not taken the time to read the manual.
If ever there was a stickler for reading a manual prior to use, it was my husband. My son-in-law accompanied Ray to look at cars one day. Don said, “I thought Ray was going to sit down and read the entire manual before we left the car dealership.”
After my niece had given her mother instructions on using her new tool, my sister did a few trial runs. I gathered that one of the vital things regarding the use of this cleaner is to be certain to set the stops, so that the machine stays within the boundaries where you want it.
My niece retrieved the cleaner and took it to her house to try it out. She said she set a table leaf to keep it within a certain room, but when she checked on it, the machine had gone over the leaf and was cleaning in an adjoining room.
The latest news from last week is that my sister had used the vacuum and was pleased with it.
Several years ago my sister’s other daughter gave her a fancy new electronic toothbrush for Christmas. When Sis told me about this, I asked how she liked it. “Oh, I really don’t know, I haven’t used it yet.” As time rocked on, I would periodically ask Sis about the new item and she gave various excuses for not using it.
Finally, one day she confessed that she was afraid of it. I told her to read the manual and she responded that she had done that, but was still afraid of it.
Several years later her daughter Terry was moving out of state and Sis approached her and asked if she would like the never-used toothbrush. Terry accepted the offer with gratitude and so far, I’ve not heard of any dire reactions resulting from use of the toothbrush.
9-17-2009
#452
Friday, September 11, 2009
Reunions can Capture Time
Over the years I have often wished that I could have attended some of my high school reunions. In 2002 my class celebrated our sixtieth reunion. How I would love to have gone to that, even though I likely would not have recognized many of those present.
Time gets away so fast, and a person looks back and realizes that years have passed since we were back in class together and enjoying mostly carefree days with no serious worries.
When you do look back, certain people stand out in your memories. You think of the beautiful young teenage girls, and the handsome athletic boys. Most of the girls were impressed with the football players and those who participated in basketball.
In the school yearbooks, students were named as the most likely to succeed, the prettiest girls, the friendliest and so on. Boys are also known for their outstanding qualities.
Of course, there were the cheerleaders. At our school, we had both boy and girl cheerleaders. Several years ago, one of my grand-daughters was here and she found my old annual and began laughing as she leafed through the book.
“Mamaw, were those the cheerleader uniforms?” Rachel asked.
“Yes, our school colors were red and gray, so the boys wore gray wool slacks with red satin shirts, and the girls wore gray wool circular skirts (below the knee length) with the red satin shirts.
As I overheard conversations regarding the all school Waurika reunion this weekend, I was impressed with how well the activities were organized. But I know a lot of former students worked long and hard on getting this all together. I heard several people state that this was the best reunion of all time. The musical entertainment during the banquet seemed to be especially pleasing to the crowd.
As a member of the class of ’69, Starr was impressed with the number from her class who were there for their 40th reunion. Of course, it’s sad when you realize that a large number have already passed away.
When she got in Saturday night after the banquet, I began to quiz her about who she had seen. “Oh yes, Mother, I saw her and she looks great.” Some she did not recognize right away and some did not recognize her.
From her class of 39 graduates, nine have died. However, they had 40 persons registered for the special noon luncheon for their class. Some of these were spouses and other relatives. I have noticed that over the years the graduates who seem most interested in attending these functions are the older ones, and especially those who live in other towns and states. I suppose this is that eternal longing to return home.
From David’s class of ’68, there is a large number of former students who have returned to Waurika and now make their home here.
Many of the former students who had stayed over till yesterday were in attendance at our church yesterday. I must say, I saw a few whom I did not recognize, but at this stage in life, I’m not embarrassed to ask these people their names. At age 85, we are not expected to remember names or even faces.
9-10-2009
#451
Time gets away so fast, and a person looks back and realizes that years have passed since we were back in class together and enjoying mostly carefree days with no serious worries.
When you do look back, certain people stand out in your memories. You think of the beautiful young teenage girls, and the handsome athletic boys. Most of the girls were impressed with the football players and those who participated in basketball.
In the school yearbooks, students were named as the most likely to succeed, the prettiest girls, the friendliest and so on. Boys are also known for their outstanding qualities.
Of course, there were the cheerleaders. At our school, we had both boy and girl cheerleaders. Several years ago, one of my grand-daughters was here and she found my old annual and began laughing as she leafed through the book.
“Mamaw, were those the cheerleader uniforms?” Rachel asked.
“Yes, our school colors were red and gray, so the boys wore gray wool slacks with red satin shirts, and the girls wore gray wool circular skirts (below the knee length) with the red satin shirts.
As I overheard conversations regarding the all school Waurika reunion this weekend, I was impressed with how well the activities were organized. But I know a lot of former students worked long and hard on getting this all together. I heard several people state that this was the best reunion of all time. The musical entertainment during the banquet seemed to be especially pleasing to the crowd.
As a member of the class of ’69, Starr was impressed with the number from her class who were there for their 40th reunion. Of course, it’s sad when you realize that a large number have already passed away.
When she got in Saturday night after the banquet, I began to quiz her about who she had seen. “Oh yes, Mother, I saw her and she looks great.” Some she did not recognize right away and some did not recognize her.
From her class of 39 graduates, nine have died. However, they had 40 persons registered for the special noon luncheon for their class. Some of these were spouses and other relatives. I have noticed that over the years the graduates who seem most interested in attending these functions are the older ones, and especially those who live in other towns and states. I suppose this is that eternal longing to return home.
From David’s class of ’68, there is a large number of former students who have returned to Waurika and now make their home here.
Many of the former students who had stayed over till yesterday were in attendance at our church yesterday. I must say, I saw a few whom I did not recognize, but at this stage in life, I’m not embarrassed to ask these people their names. At age 85, we are not expected to remember names or even faces.
9-10-2009
#451
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Ability to Read is a Blessing
In my view one of life’s greatest blessings is the ability to read. This, along with an available source of material, is a way of opening the world to us. We can find books for every interest. I once read a statement, “Someone who can read but doesn’t, is no better off than someone who cannot read.”
I can remember as a small child sitting on the arm of my dad’s chair and having him read the comics to me. He would be reading his evening paper after work and I would find the comic section (I called them the ‘funnies’) and take it to him. He never complained when he laid aside his paper and boosted me onto his lap or the arm of his chair and began to read.
Those are some of my earliest and best memories.
Later after I learned to read, I was fascinated with the Little Golden Books and think I must have read every one of those that was published.
Then I graduated to The Bobsey Twins and Nancy Drew series. There was never a lack of material to enjoy. I realize now that we could have had much more reading resources had we gone to the public library on a regular basis.
I remember as a junior high student, I got involved in some books that were so real to me, I actually believed that I was one of the characters in the stories. One of those books was about a teenage girl who was spending the summer at a camp. Another of the girls became lost one night, and the main character went out with the search party. Eventually the lost girl was located and I remember the feeling of relief and joy as I read this. As the members of the search party sat around the open fire outside, I could taste the hot chocolate they were drinking to warm themselves.
As I progressed into high school, we read some of the classics such as “A Tale of Two Cities.” We even studied some of Chaucer’s works, although I never learned to correctly pronounce the words in the language he used.
Over the years when I have entered a bookstore, I knew I would be there for likely several hours. I must admit that there have been times when I purchased a book that I had previously bought. Or I have checked out books from the library that I’d already read.
As I’ve gotten older and my eyes are not as good as they once were, I’ve often worried what I would do if I lost my ability to read. One of the advantages now is that so much good reading material is available in large print, and I do like that. I believe that these large print books are being made more available each year.
When David was a toddler and Starr a baby, I would sit in my rocker with Starr on my shoulder and David on the arm of my chair. We sat this way for hours, sometimes, but they never grew tired of hearing the stories.
A friend’s little boy came home from school and announced he’d learned to read. His mother pointed to the name embossed on the stove and said, “Read that.”
“We don’t read stoves, we read books, Mom.”
9-3-2009
#450
I can remember as a small child sitting on the arm of my dad’s chair and having him read the comics to me. He would be reading his evening paper after work and I would find the comic section (I called them the ‘funnies’) and take it to him. He never complained when he laid aside his paper and boosted me onto his lap or the arm of his chair and began to read.
Those are some of my earliest and best memories.
Later after I learned to read, I was fascinated with the Little Golden Books and think I must have read every one of those that was published.
Then I graduated to The Bobsey Twins and Nancy Drew series. There was never a lack of material to enjoy. I realize now that we could have had much more reading resources had we gone to the public library on a regular basis.
I remember as a junior high student, I got involved in some books that were so real to me, I actually believed that I was one of the characters in the stories. One of those books was about a teenage girl who was spending the summer at a camp. Another of the girls became lost one night, and the main character went out with the search party. Eventually the lost girl was located and I remember the feeling of relief and joy as I read this. As the members of the search party sat around the open fire outside, I could taste the hot chocolate they were drinking to warm themselves.
As I progressed into high school, we read some of the classics such as “A Tale of Two Cities.” We even studied some of Chaucer’s works, although I never learned to correctly pronounce the words in the language he used.
Over the years when I have entered a bookstore, I knew I would be there for likely several hours. I must admit that there have been times when I purchased a book that I had previously bought. Or I have checked out books from the library that I’d already read.
As I’ve gotten older and my eyes are not as good as they once were, I’ve often worried what I would do if I lost my ability to read. One of the advantages now is that so much good reading material is available in large print, and I do like that. I believe that these large print books are being made more available each year.
When David was a toddler and Starr a baby, I would sit in my rocker with Starr on my shoulder and David on the arm of my chair. We sat this way for hours, sometimes, but they never grew tired of hearing the stories.
A friend’s little boy came home from school and announced he’d learned to read. His mother pointed to the name embossed on the stove and said, “Read that.”
“We don’t read stoves, we read books, Mom.”
9-3-2009
#450
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Will They Take This ‘Clunker’?
According to the latest news reports, the “Cash for Clunkers” program is due to end tonight. For some persons this has been a very successful event.
During all the publicity regarding this enterprise, I thought how neat it would be if we could turn in our old clunker bodies and get a brand new model.
I’m not suggesting we get a few new parts, but that we could get a completely new body with all parts working and in good order. It’s exciting to think about how we would react to that. Some of us, yours truly included, would have to change our constant complaining to one of gratitude and praise.
I find it disturbing to think back over the past years and realize how I took my energy for granted and never thought to be grateful for the abilities I had.
Most of us have had a much better life than we are willing to admit. Of course, there is always sadness and sorrow, but on the other hand, there is so much joy and happiness mixed in with that.
At times when I have suffered a serious illness, I have said to myself, “If I ever get back on my feet, I’m going to be so thankful and am going to make the best of every day.” Surprisingly enough, I do follow through on that commitment, for a little while, but then I revert to my old ways of finding fault.
On another subject I think this week marks the beginning of school for Texas students. Some of our nearest schools here in Oklahoma have already been in session for several weeks.
Mothers of kindergarteners and those with high school seniors find this a mixed blessing. Of course, they would not have it any other way, but sending that child off for school for the first time is such a big step in the life of a child and the mother, too.
On the other hand those mothers who have seniors this year know that soon those students will likely be on their own. This knowledge causes parents to wonder if they have done their best to teach their students to deal with real life.
I see little students with huge backpacks and wonder what all is in them. I never heard the word “backpack” except in reference to those in the military. Our backpack was a “book satchel.” Then there was the “vanilla folder” as my brother called it for storing some of our papers. Mother made us a little drawstring bag our of printed fabric, sometimes a feed sack, and we used this for storing our crayons to keep them together. We only had the small sized box of Crayolas that contained eight different colors. There were extra pencils and erasers and later, fourth grade, I think, we had to have a pen staff and little pen points that fit into the staff. Oh yes, there was always the bottle of ink that had a tendency to get overturned and spill on someone’s clothes.
The word calculator was not in our vocabulary and no one had ever heard of a computer or cell phone. Ah, but somehow we struggled through and now realize what good times those were.
8-27-2009
#449
During all the publicity regarding this enterprise, I thought how neat it would be if we could turn in our old clunker bodies and get a brand new model.
I’m not suggesting we get a few new parts, but that we could get a completely new body with all parts working and in good order. It’s exciting to think about how we would react to that. Some of us, yours truly included, would have to change our constant complaining to one of gratitude and praise.
I find it disturbing to think back over the past years and realize how I took my energy for granted and never thought to be grateful for the abilities I had.
Most of us have had a much better life than we are willing to admit. Of course, there is always sadness and sorrow, but on the other hand, there is so much joy and happiness mixed in with that.
At times when I have suffered a serious illness, I have said to myself, “If I ever get back on my feet, I’m going to be so thankful and am going to make the best of every day.” Surprisingly enough, I do follow through on that commitment, for a little while, but then I revert to my old ways of finding fault.
On another subject I think this week marks the beginning of school for Texas students. Some of our nearest schools here in Oklahoma have already been in session for several weeks.
Mothers of kindergarteners and those with high school seniors find this a mixed blessing. Of course, they would not have it any other way, but sending that child off for school for the first time is such a big step in the life of a child and the mother, too.
On the other hand those mothers who have seniors this year know that soon those students will likely be on their own. This knowledge causes parents to wonder if they have done their best to teach their students to deal with real life.
I see little students with huge backpacks and wonder what all is in them. I never heard the word “backpack” except in reference to those in the military. Our backpack was a “book satchel.” Then there was the “vanilla folder” as my brother called it for storing some of our papers. Mother made us a little drawstring bag our of printed fabric, sometimes a feed sack, and we used this for storing our crayons to keep them together. We only had the small sized box of Crayolas that contained eight different colors. There were extra pencils and erasers and later, fourth grade, I think, we had to have a pen staff and little pen points that fit into the staff. Oh yes, there was always the bottle of ink that had a tendency to get overturned and spill on someone’s clothes.
The word calculator was not in our vocabulary and no one had ever heard of a computer or cell phone. Ah, but somehow we struggled through and now realize what good times those were.
8-27-2009
#449
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Change is Always Certain
Change—always change. Change is a constant in our lives. We are not always aware that change is taking place, but at some point we realize that we have changed in many ways, as have our circumstances.
Sometimes we long for the ‘good ole days’ before the world changed so much. However this is a trade off: whether we want to go back to the days when women had to heat water on a wood stove to do the wash, or if we would rather have an automatic washer and dryer to take care of our laundry.
Would we want to go back to the days before cell phones? Even though they are sometimes nuisances, cell phones are invaluable in times of crisis when help is needed. As I have seen the value of having a cell phone, I’ve changed my mind about their usefulness.
One of the most evident changes is our fast-paced life. We seem to have no time for the slower schedules and quiet enjoyments of life now. We leave one meeting early in order to get to another meeting late.
There was a time when my life was scheduled up to the minute. I planned the order of all the things I would do and when I would do them. Eventually, it dawned on me that I was really missing out on a lot of pleasurable activities and that I was being a slave to my schedule.
Many times Ray would come into the kitchen where I might be washing dishes and tell me he was going to the country for some reason or other. He would ask me if I would like to go along. Most of the time I told him I had better stay home and finish my chores.
But as time passed, my senses told me that the dishes and other chores would wait, and I had the opportunity to go enjoy some time with him. Since then, my routine has become much more flexible and if I want to leave something undone here at home, I do, and try to make the most of the opportunities that are available to me.
We often give the impression that we are driven by a compulsion to get everything done today.
My mother’s nature was that she only had so much time to do everything on her list and that meant she often times seemed to be going to a fire. Mother wanted us to feel that everything was perfect for us, but the outcome of that desire was that she was usually tired and worn out.
On the other hand, Ray’s mother never seemed to get in a hurry and when we went to her house, she always took time to sit down and visit. She made us feel welcome.
As I think of all the changes of the past 50 years, I wonder what it will be in another half century. What conditions will my great-grandchildren confront? Will they take time to stop and enjoy the beauty all around them, or will they speed by so fast, they never notice God’s beauty? We had better smell those roses today, they won’t last forever.
8-20-2009
#448
Sometimes we long for the ‘good ole days’ before the world changed so much. However this is a trade off: whether we want to go back to the days when women had to heat water on a wood stove to do the wash, or if we would rather have an automatic washer and dryer to take care of our laundry.
Would we want to go back to the days before cell phones? Even though they are sometimes nuisances, cell phones are invaluable in times of crisis when help is needed. As I have seen the value of having a cell phone, I’ve changed my mind about their usefulness.
One of the most evident changes is our fast-paced life. We seem to have no time for the slower schedules and quiet enjoyments of life now. We leave one meeting early in order to get to another meeting late.
There was a time when my life was scheduled up to the minute. I planned the order of all the things I would do and when I would do them. Eventually, it dawned on me that I was really missing out on a lot of pleasurable activities and that I was being a slave to my schedule.
Many times Ray would come into the kitchen where I might be washing dishes and tell me he was going to the country for some reason or other. He would ask me if I would like to go along. Most of the time I told him I had better stay home and finish my chores.
But as time passed, my senses told me that the dishes and other chores would wait, and I had the opportunity to go enjoy some time with him. Since then, my routine has become much more flexible and if I want to leave something undone here at home, I do, and try to make the most of the opportunities that are available to me.
We often give the impression that we are driven by a compulsion to get everything done today.
My mother’s nature was that she only had so much time to do everything on her list and that meant she often times seemed to be going to a fire. Mother wanted us to feel that everything was perfect for us, but the outcome of that desire was that she was usually tired and worn out.
On the other hand, Ray’s mother never seemed to get in a hurry and when we went to her house, she always took time to sit down and visit. She made us feel welcome.
As I think of all the changes of the past 50 years, I wonder what it will be in another half century. What conditions will my great-grandchildren confront? Will they take time to stop and enjoy the beauty all around them, or will they speed by so fast, they never notice God’s beauty? We had better smell those roses today, they won’t last forever.
8-20-2009
#448
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Friends are Truly Rewarding
One of life’s most rewarding relationships is that of true friendship. We meet persons who become friends in many ways. Sometimes, a mutual friend brings us together. We may have the same hobby, enjoy the same reading material, or other interests in common.
It’s been said that a friend reaches out for your hand, and touches your heart.
Friends are everywhere and are there to share your joys and your sorrows. True friends know the “real you,” and care about you anyway.
Our longtime friends may have been our schoolmates or neighbors when we were young. One of the sad things is that as we travel life’s path, we often lose touch with our friends. Oh, we don’t intend for this to happen, but we become so busy with our own lives, that we neglect checking with our friends or staying in touch.
As happens quite often, our friends’ families also become our friends and we care about each person in that clan. I still remember the parents of so many of my friends from grade school. When my dad passed away, a man came to visit my mother and convey his condolences. We had lived across the street from each other back about the time we first began school. I had not seen him nor heard from him, in many years.
I’ve heard someone say, “Well, you don’t get to choose your relatives, but you can choose your friends.”
As the years have passed, I’ve come to realize that my friends have taught me many lessons. Some have had serious health problems, and yet, they have stayed strong and not become bitter. Due to the time in which we grew up, many friends have suffered through severe financial difficulties and yet are generous to the various needs of the community.
When a long period of time has passed and you’ve been separated from your friends for whatever reason, re-connecting with them is a special gift.
I still cherish the friendships I enjoyed during the times we lived in different locations. Once in a while, I run into these people unexpectedly and we spend long periods of time trying to catch up.
As time goes by, you may think of a friend and wonder where he is now and what he is doing. Locating that person is not always easy or possible. When my mother learned that one of her friends had died, I remember Mother saying, “I had intended to go see her, but I didn’t get over there.”
Some of my longtime friends and I seldom get to see each other, but I try to stay in touch by phone and mail. At my age, many of my friends have died and I miss them, but I still have the wonderful memories of our times together.
When the moving truck came to bring our things from Antlers here to Waurika, I remember standing in our yard, crying and hugging one of my dear friends. That has been 52 years ago, but we are still friends.
My life has been wonderfully blessed to have the friends who have helped me along life’s way. I hope you feel the same way.
8-13-2009
#447
It’s been said that a friend reaches out for your hand, and touches your heart.
Friends are everywhere and are there to share your joys and your sorrows. True friends know the “real you,” and care about you anyway.
Our longtime friends may have been our schoolmates or neighbors when we were young. One of the sad things is that as we travel life’s path, we often lose touch with our friends. Oh, we don’t intend for this to happen, but we become so busy with our own lives, that we neglect checking with our friends or staying in touch.
As happens quite often, our friends’ families also become our friends and we care about each person in that clan. I still remember the parents of so many of my friends from grade school. When my dad passed away, a man came to visit my mother and convey his condolences. We had lived across the street from each other back about the time we first began school. I had not seen him nor heard from him, in many years.
I’ve heard someone say, “Well, you don’t get to choose your relatives, but you can choose your friends.”
As the years have passed, I’ve come to realize that my friends have taught me many lessons. Some have had serious health problems, and yet, they have stayed strong and not become bitter. Due to the time in which we grew up, many friends have suffered through severe financial difficulties and yet are generous to the various needs of the community.
When a long period of time has passed and you’ve been separated from your friends for whatever reason, re-connecting with them is a special gift.
I still cherish the friendships I enjoyed during the times we lived in different locations. Once in a while, I run into these people unexpectedly and we spend long periods of time trying to catch up.
As time goes by, you may think of a friend and wonder where he is now and what he is doing. Locating that person is not always easy or possible. When my mother learned that one of her friends had died, I remember Mother saying, “I had intended to go see her, but I didn’t get over there.”
Some of my longtime friends and I seldom get to see each other, but I try to stay in touch by phone and mail. At my age, many of my friends have died and I miss them, but I still have the wonderful memories of our times together.
When the moving truck came to bring our things from Antlers here to Waurika, I remember standing in our yard, crying and hugging one of my dear friends. That has been 52 years ago, but we are still friends.
My life has been wonderfully blessed to have the friends who have helped me along life’s way. I hope you feel the same way.
8-13-2009
#447
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Carving a Bird Not My Forte
A friend surprised me the other day when she asked, “Evelyn, how long has it been since you’ve seen a wishbone?”
I began to laugh and told her that just the day before, my daughter and I had mentioned that. I thought about this and could not remember the last time I’d seen a wishbone, or eaten a “pulley bone” as we called it.
That used to be my favorite piece of chicken. In fact, my brother and sister and I fought over who got the wishbone. We made a big ritual about pulling it apart and seeing which of us got the short piece. I know it was different in families, but in our family, the person with the short piece got his wish.
I can’t think of anything better than a good crisp fried wishbone. Over the years I’ve been surprised at the number of persons, men especially, who grew up on farms and once they are adults and move away, they refuse to eat chicken fixed any way.
When I think of wishbones, I think of my early years of marriage. With no car, Ray and I walked downtown to the grocery store in Stillwater. Due to our tight budget, we had to shop very frugally, but we never went hungry and usually had plenty of good, nourishing food.
One Saturday we purchased a fryer and brought it home. When I told Ray I had never cut up a chicken, he rolled up his sleeves, scrubbed his hands, got a large knife and began to cut the chicken into pieces to be fried. Because chickens were cheaper than most other meat at that time, we began to eat chicken often, but he continued to cut them up for me.
Finally, one week we brought the chicken home and Ray said, “You think you can cut this one up now?” I looked at him and then at the chicken, and shook my head ‘no’.
“Okay, I want you to watch carefully while I do this, because you will be the one to do this from now on.”
Watching him, it looked so simple, but I knew better. I did not buy a chicken for several weeks after that, because I knew what lay ahead.
Finally, near the end of the month, before Ray’s GI money for school arrived, I realized it was either chicken or no meat. So, reluctantly, I picked out a chicken and brought it home.
Ray went into the bedroom and left me in the kitchen to do my work. I remember calling to him, “Ray, I need help.”
He came into the kitchen and saw the butchered carcass of that poor chicken and began to laugh. I was on the verge of tears. Why hadn’t my mother taught me this while I was still living at home?
I never did become very adept at cutting up chickens, but learned that if I made chicken and dumplings, the butchering of the chicken was not quite so obvious.
To this day, I doubt that I could do a decent job of cutting up a chicken, but then I’ve found they do come in pieces, ready to fry or put in a pot of dumplings. Thank goodness.erron
8-6-2009
#446
I began to laugh and told her that just the day before, my daughter and I had mentioned that. I thought about this and could not remember the last time I’d seen a wishbone, or eaten a “pulley bone” as we called it.
That used to be my favorite piece of chicken. In fact, my brother and sister and I fought over who got the wishbone. We made a big ritual about pulling it apart and seeing which of us got the short piece. I know it was different in families, but in our family, the person with the short piece got his wish.
I can’t think of anything better than a good crisp fried wishbone. Over the years I’ve been surprised at the number of persons, men especially, who grew up on farms and once they are adults and move away, they refuse to eat chicken fixed any way.
When I think of wishbones, I think of my early years of marriage. With no car, Ray and I walked downtown to the grocery store in Stillwater. Due to our tight budget, we had to shop very frugally, but we never went hungry and usually had plenty of good, nourishing food.
One Saturday we purchased a fryer and brought it home. When I told Ray I had never cut up a chicken, he rolled up his sleeves, scrubbed his hands, got a large knife and began to cut the chicken into pieces to be fried. Because chickens were cheaper than most other meat at that time, we began to eat chicken often, but he continued to cut them up for me.
Finally, one week we brought the chicken home and Ray said, “You think you can cut this one up now?” I looked at him and then at the chicken, and shook my head ‘no’.
“Okay, I want you to watch carefully while I do this, because you will be the one to do this from now on.”
Watching him, it looked so simple, but I knew better. I did not buy a chicken for several weeks after that, because I knew what lay ahead.
Finally, near the end of the month, before Ray’s GI money for school arrived, I realized it was either chicken or no meat. So, reluctantly, I picked out a chicken and brought it home.
Ray went into the bedroom and left me in the kitchen to do my work. I remember calling to him, “Ray, I need help.”
He came into the kitchen and saw the butchered carcass of that poor chicken and began to laugh. I was on the verge of tears. Why hadn’t my mother taught me this while I was still living at home?
I never did become very adept at cutting up chickens, but learned that if I made chicken and dumplings, the butchering of the chicken was not quite so obvious.
To this day, I doubt that I could do a decent job of cutting up a chicken, but then I’ve found they do come in pieces, ready to fry or put in a pot of dumplings. Thank goodness.erron
8-6-2009
#446
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Summers Seem Too Short
Where has this summer gone? Oh, I know that we still have to face August and September and that we can expect more heat during that time. However, schools will be starting a new year in most of this area within the next few weeks and we will be off on another round of fall and winter activities.
Recently I was thinking about county fairs that are most often held in early September. As a child, my siblings and I did not know nor care about the crop displays or the animals shown at county fairs. We were accustomed to attending the state fair in Dallas, and to us, it meant lots of rides and special treats of food.
Can you remember the taste of cotton candy? To me, cotton candy looked so inviting and then when I began to eat it, it melted down to nothing. This was similar to tasting vanilla flavoring. When Mother made a cake, I would usually be standing by her side, or perhaps sitting on the cabinet countertop. When she put that vanilla in the cake, the aroma was tantalizing.
I remember begging her to let me have a taste and she told me, “You won’t like it,” but eventually she did go ahead and give me a small taste in a teaspoon. What a disappointment! It was so bitter I never asked to taste it a second time.
When it came to rides, I was never the daredevil that my siblings were. Once when we were all on the Ferris wheel, and the operator stopped the machine while we were right at the top. I must have been about ten or twelve years old, and I begin yelling, “Let me off.” For some reason, I was really frightened.
The operator started the wheel up and when we got to the bottom, he stopped and let me off. I was so embarrassed, but at the same time, I was glad to be off.
In 1936 when Texas celebrated their Centennial, my dad had bought several books of tickets for the various activities at the fair. About the time the Centennial activities got into full swing, my brother came down with scarlet fever and we were quarantined.
After a certain period of time, my sister and I were given a clean bill of health and were allowed to leave the house. However, Mother could not go off and leave my brother while she took us to the fair, so my maternal grandmother came and stayed a week or so, and took my sister and me to the fair. We would not think of letting those tickets go to waste.
At that time, my grandmother must have been in her seventies. I recall we stayed all day at the fair and I can’t imagine a person that age herding two children all that time.
I do remember that I had a new appreciation for good cold drinking water after that day of consuming soft drinks all day.
After Ray and I had a family, he did help us learn to enjoy the crops on display and the beautiful animals that were shown with such pride.
7-29-2009
#445
Recently I was thinking about county fairs that are most often held in early September. As a child, my siblings and I did not know nor care about the crop displays or the animals shown at county fairs. We were accustomed to attending the state fair in Dallas, and to us, it meant lots of rides and special treats of food.
Can you remember the taste of cotton candy? To me, cotton candy looked so inviting and then when I began to eat it, it melted down to nothing. This was similar to tasting vanilla flavoring. When Mother made a cake, I would usually be standing by her side, or perhaps sitting on the cabinet countertop. When she put that vanilla in the cake, the aroma was tantalizing.
I remember begging her to let me have a taste and she told me, “You won’t like it,” but eventually she did go ahead and give me a small taste in a teaspoon. What a disappointment! It was so bitter I never asked to taste it a second time.
When it came to rides, I was never the daredevil that my siblings were. Once when we were all on the Ferris wheel, and the operator stopped the machine while we were right at the top. I must have been about ten or twelve years old, and I begin yelling, “Let me off.” For some reason, I was really frightened.
The operator started the wheel up and when we got to the bottom, he stopped and let me off. I was so embarrassed, but at the same time, I was glad to be off.
In 1936 when Texas celebrated their Centennial, my dad had bought several books of tickets for the various activities at the fair. About the time the Centennial activities got into full swing, my brother came down with scarlet fever and we were quarantined.
After a certain period of time, my sister and I were given a clean bill of health and were allowed to leave the house. However, Mother could not go off and leave my brother while she took us to the fair, so my maternal grandmother came and stayed a week or so, and took my sister and me to the fair. We would not think of letting those tickets go to waste.
At that time, my grandmother must have been in her seventies. I recall we stayed all day at the fair and I can’t imagine a person that age herding two children all that time.
I do remember that I had a new appreciation for good cold drinking water after that day of consuming soft drinks all day.
After Ray and I had a family, he did help us learn to enjoy the crops on display and the beautiful animals that were shown with such pride.
7-29-2009
#445
Traveling a Well-worn Path
My continuing project of cleaning out old records and memorabilia is like traveling a well-worn path. However, many of the items I am discovering, are things I had long since forgotten.
I’ve learned one thing: a person should always designate who the persons are in photos and should record a date. Last month when my aunt celebrated her 101st birthday, her daughter gave one of my nieces some old pictures and my niece Marcia became interested in checking out some of our ancestors.
Since I am the oldest of my parents’ children, I remembered more than my brother or either of my sisters, but even so, there is a large blank space in the line of our ancestors.
As I search through the pictures and old news clippings, there is always the decision as to which things to keep and which to toss. I have found several letters written in the mid 1970s that were sent by friends. Many of these persons are no longer with us, but I found a few that I intend to pass along to the offspring of these friends.
I spent a few days last week shredding old income tax records. I decided that I could safely dispose of the first income tax return that Ray and I filed for 1948.
Removing the staples from these records takes longer than the actual shredding process. I try to contain the staples, but there are always some that escape, so I have to hunt for those.
While I have been busy doing these chores, Starr has examined some of the records from her school days here in Waurika, from first grade to graduation. We’ve enjoyed many laughs as we looked at these and recalled events surrounding the photos.
When these young persons get out of high school and college, the old records don’t seem to have the same meanings for them as they do for us seniors. As they grow older, however, they do seem to find more interest in the past.
I hate to admit this, but I am the type person who procrastinates on chores until I am pushed into doing something about the problem. Well, that’s what it has come to with the paper work. I had large boxes stacked in my closets, filling them to the extent that we could hardly get our clothes in the closets. So, I could no longer ignore the situation.
Because of my niece’s interest in our family history, we are beginning to realize just how much we do not know. She did have a good starting place when she entered my maternal grandmother’s maiden name as Goostree. I doubt that there are that many persons who claim that name.
Both my grandfathers died at an early age and we do not know much about either of them or their lineage. I was fortunate enough to get to know each of them somewhat, but at my young age at that time, I never took much interest in finding out about them. My dad was the oldest of six children in his family and he was the first to die. Since then, 1989, all of his siblings have passed on, so finding someone with true facts about his family is almost impossible. However, it’s fun to search anyway.
7-22-2009
#444
I’ve learned one thing: a person should always designate who the persons are in photos and should record a date. Last month when my aunt celebrated her 101st birthday, her daughter gave one of my nieces some old pictures and my niece Marcia became interested in checking out some of our ancestors.
Since I am the oldest of my parents’ children, I remembered more than my brother or either of my sisters, but even so, there is a large blank space in the line of our ancestors.
As I search through the pictures and old news clippings, there is always the decision as to which things to keep and which to toss. I have found several letters written in the mid 1970s that were sent by friends. Many of these persons are no longer with us, but I found a few that I intend to pass along to the offspring of these friends.
I spent a few days last week shredding old income tax records. I decided that I could safely dispose of the first income tax return that Ray and I filed for 1948.
Removing the staples from these records takes longer than the actual shredding process. I try to contain the staples, but there are always some that escape, so I have to hunt for those.
While I have been busy doing these chores, Starr has examined some of the records from her school days here in Waurika, from first grade to graduation. We’ve enjoyed many laughs as we looked at these and recalled events surrounding the photos.
When these young persons get out of high school and college, the old records don’t seem to have the same meanings for them as they do for us seniors. As they grow older, however, they do seem to find more interest in the past.
I hate to admit this, but I am the type person who procrastinates on chores until I am pushed into doing something about the problem. Well, that’s what it has come to with the paper work. I had large boxes stacked in my closets, filling them to the extent that we could hardly get our clothes in the closets. So, I could no longer ignore the situation.
Because of my niece’s interest in our family history, we are beginning to realize just how much we do not know. She did have a good starting place when she entered my maternal grandmother’s maiden name as Goostree. I doubt that there are that many persons who claim that name.
Both my grandfathers died at an early age and we do not know much about either of them or their lineage. I was fortunate enough to get to know each of them somewhat, but at my young age at that time, I never took much interest in finding out about them. My dad was the oldest of six children in his family and he was the first to die. Since then, 1989, all of his siblings have passed on, so finding someone with true facts about his family is almost impossible. However, it’s fun to search anyway.
7-22-2009
#444
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Pay Heed to Kids, Seniors
Someone was quoted as saying, “If you would be wise, then cultivate a relationship with children under six and seniors over 70.”
Well, I’ve done both and I must say I’ve learned a lot. Children are so frank and uninhibited, they just say whatever they think without dressing up the language or being subtle.
Seniors have much wisdom to impart, if they can remember these truisms. I find it embarrassing to begin telling something and then forgetting it, before I’ve finished. Often times, it comes back to me, but not always.
For years I looked forward to my 80th birthday because I’d heard that when a person reaches 80, no one expects anything from them. However, I find that people still expect me to get out of bed each morning, wash my face, brush my teeth and comb my hair. Quite often that is as far as I get before I must crash in my recliner for a nap.
In a sense seniors are like children, they don’t try to butter-up people and flatter them just to gain their favor. I would hope that when seniors have something unpleasant to say, they would at least say it kindly.
When my granddaughter Rachel was about five and came to visit us at Woodward, I was putting on my makeup one day and she asked what I was using. “This is Oil of Olay, Rachel.”
She stood back and examined me for a few seconds and then said, “But Mamaw, it’s supposed to make you beautiful.” How about that for being subtle?
One day I was at my daughter Gayle’s house and we were visiting. Several of her granddaughters were there and as Gayle was telling me something, she called me “Mother.”
Lauren who was about five at the time, looked at Gayle and said, “You called her Mother.”
“Yes, Lauren, she is my Mother. Didn’t you know that?”
Lauren looked at Gayle and then at me and replied, “She can’t be your Mother, you’re too old.”
After David had learned to talk, we had a problem with him interrupting adult conversations. One night we had a guest and as we sat at the table, David was telling us something.
Our guest, an elderly man, had a hearing problem and while David was speaking, this man began telling Ray something. David stopped talking and looked at the man and said, “Mr. Mac, Mr. Mac, I was talking first and you just cut right into me.”
One of the remarkable things regarding seniors is that their wisdom mostly comes from experience, so they know whereof they speak.
When my grandma told me some of the things regarding her growing up years, I sat with rapt attention. To me, her life had been so very different from mine. Her stepmother was not the kindest person in the world.
Grandma had to make most of her clothes at night after working in the field all day. She had to sew them by hand, while her step-sisters were allowed to use the sewing machine to make doll clothes.
Looking back, I have much for which to be thankful in my life.
7-16-2009
#443
Well, I’ve done both and I must say I’ve learned a lot. Children are so frank and uninhibited, they just say whatever they think without dressing up the language or being subtle.
Seniors have much wisdom to impart, if they can remember these truisms. I find it embarrassing to begin telling something and then forgetting it, before I’ve finished. Often times, it comes back to me, but not always.
For years I looked forward to my 80th birthday because I’d heard that when a person reaches 80, no one expects anything from them. However, I find that people still expect me to get out of bed each morning, wash my face, brush my teeth and comb my hair. Quite often that is as far as I get before I must crash in my recliner for a nap.
In a sense seniors are like children, they don’t try to butter-up people and flatter them just to gain their favor. I would hope that when seniors have something unpleasant to say, they would at least say it kindly.
When my granddaughter Rachel was about five and came to visit us at Woodward, I was putting on my makeup one day and she asked what I was using. “This is Oil of Olay, Rachel.”
She stood back and examined me for a few seconds and then said, “But Mamaw, it’s supposed to make you beautiful.” How about that for being subtle?
One day I was at my daughter Gayle’s house and we were visiting. Several of her granddaughters were there and as Gayle was telling me something, she called me “Mother.”
Lauren who was about five at the time, looked at Gayle and said, “You called her Mother.”
“Yes, Lauren, she is my Mother. Didn’t you know that?”
Lauren looked at Gayle and then at me and replied, “She can’t be your Mother, you’re too old.”
After David had learned to talk, we had a problem with him interrupting adult conversations. One night we had a guest and as we sat at the table, David was telling us something.
Our guest, an elderly man, had a hearing problem and while David was speaking, this man began telling Ray something. David stopped talking and looked at the man and said, “Mr. Mac, Mr. Mac, I was talking first and you just cut right into me.”
One of the remarkable things regarding seniors is that their wisdom mostly comes from experience, so they know whereof they speak.
When my grandma told me some of the things regarding her growing up years, I sat with rapt attention. To me, her life had been so very different from mine. Her stepmother was not the kindest person in the world.
Grandma had to make most of her clothes at night after working in the field all day. She had to sew them by hand, while her step-sisters were allowed to use the sewing machine to make doll clothes.
Looking back, I have much for which to be thankful in my life.
7-16-2009
#443
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Summer Labor Can Wilt You
How refreshing to awaken to the aroma of grass wet with drops from an evening rain. So unusual, especially in July when we are normally very dry and hot.
When July 4th has come and gone, I always feel like summer is at least half over. This does not mean that the heat index will automatically go down. However, the time before school begins again is peering through the curtains and before we know it, students will be loading up their supplies in backpacks and heading off to classes.
I wonder if other senior adults look back as I do and long for those lazy days of going barefoot, eating watermelon, and spending the afternoon in a pool? Those are some of my best childhood memories. Sitting on the old crank ice cream freezer was a chore we fought over, my sister, brother and I.
In my family we had certain responsibilities and these increased as we grew older, but the chores were fairly well equally divided so we did not feel that we were being put upon.
Mother decided early on that it was easier for her to do the cooking than for my sister or me to mess up the kitchen. We were assigned the duties of washing and drying the dishes after each meal.
I remember complaining about having to dry dishes at home, but often I went to our next-door neighbor’s and if she were doing dishes, I would pick up the dishtowel and begin drying her dishes. I still don’t understand why that did not seem to be a chore.
On really hot days, we girls did not stay out in the heat during the afternoons. The girls usually played jacks, or a board game such as checkers. Boys spent their time playing marbles, but were more likely to get out in the afternoon sun and play baseball, or kick ball.
Once the sun went down, we often times put an old quilt out on the lawn and lay on it watching stars twinkling in the sky. We enjoyed a game of Red Rover, Red Rover, or Hide ‘N Seek. Our parents did not have to worry about where we were because we were usually out in our own front yard.
During weeks when we spent time with our grandparents, we helped gather eggs, fed the chickens and put out water for them. I went to the garden with my grandma and helped her pull up onions, or gather leaf lettuce for our meal. We all loved wilted lettuce and Grandma made lots of that when we visited.
Once when my parents were here, Mother walked up to visit Mrs. Tripp. They went out into Mrs. Tripp’s garden and she gathered enough lettuce for Mother to bring home for our evening meal. Gayle started back home and Mother told her to go ahead and bring the lettuce and she would wilt it when she got here.
Upon her return, Mother saw the lettuce lying limp in the sink. When she questioned Gayle, the reply was, “Grandma, you said we would wilt it, so I put it in there and turned some hot water on it.”
Needless to say, it was wilted.
7-9-2009
#442
When July 4th has come and gone, I always feel like summer is at least half over. This does not mean that the heat index will automatically go down. However, the time before school begins again is peering through the curtains and before we know it, students will be loading up their supplies in backpacks and heading off to classes.
I wonder if other senior adults look back as I do and long for those lazy days of going barefoot, eating watermelon, and spending the afternoon in a pool? Those are some of my best childhood memories. Sitting on the old crank ice cream freezer was a chore we fought over, my sister, brother and I.
In my family we had certain responsibilities and these increased as we grew older, but the chores were fairly well equally divided so we did not feel that we were being put upon.
Mother decided early on that it was easier for her to do the cooking than for my sister or me to mess up the kitchen. We were assigned the duties of washing and drying the dishes after each meal.
I remember complaining about having to dry dishes at home, but often I went to our next-door neighbor’s and if she were doing dishes, I would pick up the dishtowel and begin drying her dishes. I still don’t understand why that did not seem to be a chore.
On really hot days, we girls did not stay out in the heat during the afternoons. The girls usually played jacks, or a board game such as checkers. Boys spent their time playing marbles, but were more likely to get out in the afternoon sun and play baseball, or kick ball.
Once the sun went down, we often times put an old quilt out on the lawn and lay on it watching stars twinkling in the sky. We enjoyed a game of Red Rover, Red Rover, or Hide ‘N Seek. Our parents did not have to worry about where we were because we were usually out in our own front yard.
During weeks when we spent time with our grandparents, we helped gather eggs, fed the chickens and put out water for them. I went to the garden with my grandma and helped her pull up onions, or gather leaf lettuce for our meal. We all loved wilted lettuce and Grandma made lots of that when we visited.
Once when my parents were here, Mother walked up to visit Mrs. Tripp. They went out into Mrs. Tripp’s garden and she gathered enough lettuce for Mother to bring home for our evening meal. Gayle started back home and Mother told her to go ahead and bring the lettuce and she would wilt it when she got here.
Upon her return, Mother saw the lettuce lying limp in the sink. When she questioned Gayle, the reply was, “Grandma, you said we would wilt it, so I put it in there and turned some hot water on it.”
Needless to say, it was wilted.
7-9-2009
#442
Thursday, June 18, 2009
So, What’s in your house?
One of the Wichita Falls television stations begins the evening news coverage with the question, “It’s ten o’clock, do you know where your children are?”
The questions I would ask you today are: Do you know what’s in your house, is it useful, if not, why is it still there?
For several weeks now, I’ve been searching for a certain bank statement. I put it somewhere so I would know exactly where it would be when I needed it, but I have come up short every place I’ve looked.
This is similar to my hiding Band-aids when my children were all little and then not being able to locate them when I needed one. If I left them in the medicine cabinet in plain sight, they soon disappeared. I often told Ray that we would be rich if we had invested in Johnson and Johnson.
But, losing the bank statement has not been all bad. In looking for this document, I’ve been forced to go through my file cabinet and toss out many old and unimportant papers. I’ve been on a roll, shredding some of the paperwork of long ago.
It’s surprising how fast things pile up in a house. I do not refer solely to paperwork, but to many other items. As a young mother, I sewed some for my children and could not resist buying fabric any time I came across some in a store.
Several years ago, I needed some storage space, so I went through all the materials that were still unused and moved them to a large plastic storage box. If Gayle still had time to sew, I would give them to her, but she is too busy for that right now
One of the drawbacks of going through all these records is that each one has to be read or examined in order not to dispose of something that is important. This, my friends, takes time.
Every so often, I find it necessary to go through my little basket where I keep my snail mail. This is a tedious job, because as sure as I throw away an envelope, I need that return address.
There are some things that I cannot part with; things such as baby clothes that my children wore and greeting cards I’ve received over many years. These are such cherished keepsakes, I simply can’t throw them out.
I have passed along to some of my children and grandchildren mother’s and grandma’s pieces of beautiful handwork, even though most of them are showing signs of age.
In her latter years, Mother would say, “I feel sorry for you all when I am gone—there is so much to go through.” She was exactly right. But we made it.
In reference to last week’s column regarding the overload of emails on my computer, maybe it did help some people. Two of my email friends sent me messages that they were going through and deleting large numbers of emails. It is so easy to read a message and leave it on the computer.
As of last night, I had eight unread messages on my computer and only about fifty all together. Sure beats that 17,000 I had on there earlier.
6-17-2009
#439
The questions I would ask you today are: Do you know what’s in your house, is it useful, if not, why is it still there?
For several weeks now, I’ve been searching for a certain bank statement. I put it somewhere so I would know exactly where it would be when I needed it, but I have come up short every place I’ve looked.
This is similar to my hiding Band-aids when my children were all little and then not being able to locate them when I needed one. If I left them in the medicine cabinet in plain sight, they soon disappeared. I often told Ray that we would be rich if we had invested in Johnson and Johnson.
But, losing the bank statement has not been all bad. In looking for this document, I’ve been forced to go through my file cabinet and toss out many old and unimportant papers. I’ve been on a roll, shredding some of the paperwork of long ago.
It’s surprising how fast things pile up in a house. I do not refer solely to paperwork, but to many other items. As a young mother, I sewed some for my children and could not resist buying fabric any time I came across some in a store.
Several years ago, I needed some storage space, so I went through all the materials that were still unused and moved them to a large plastic storage box. If Gayle still had time to sew, I would give them to her, but she is too busy for that right now
One of the drawbacks of going through all these records is that each one has to be read or examined in order not to dispose of something that is important. This, my friends, takes time.
Every so often, I find it necessary to go through my little basket where I keep my snail mail. This is a tedious job, because as sure as I throw away an envelope, I need that return address.
There are some things that I cannot part with; things such as baby clothes that my children wore and greeting cards I’ve received over many years. These are such cherished keepsakes, I simply can’t throw them out.
I have passed along to some of my children and grandchildren mother’s and grandma’s pieces of beautiful handwork, even though most of them are showing signs of age.
In her latter years, Mother would say, “I feel sorry for you all when I am gone—there is so much to go through.” She was exactly right. But we made it.
In reference to last week’s column regarding the overload of emails on my computer, maybe it did help some people. Two of my email friends sent me messages that they were going through and deleting large numbers of emails. It is so easy to read a message and leave it on the computer.
As of last night, I had eight unread messages on my computer and only about fifty all together. Sure beats that 17,000 I had on there earlier.
6-17-2009
#439
Friday, June 12, 2009
Battling an E-mail Overload
I guess it’s confession time for me. For several weeks recently I’ve been having problems with my computer. When I turned on the Outlook Express to receive my emails, the download would begin and sometimes go about halfway. Suddenly, I would get a message that my server had interrupted service for an unknown reason.
The really odd part was that I could still access my Internet Explorer successfully and my Facebook. This was so frustrating and I felt isolated, because I do use my computer to constantly stay in touch with friends and family.
Gayle had some instructions from AT&T that she thought might solve this problem. She stopped by briefly one afternoon and tried this method, but it did not help any. Finally, she came by another day and was checking out my programs when she looked at me and said, “Mother, did you know you have over 17,000 emails stored on here?”
I thought she was joking, but when I looked, there was the BIG number. She began deleting those messages and eventually got them all off. She said, “I bet everyone in Waurika who has the same server as you, will see remarkably better service now.”
Last week after all this had happened, we met several members of our family from the Dallas area for lunch and visiting. We met in Decatur, Texas. Of the nine who were there, I was the oldest. Everyone there, well most of them, was much younger than I am, and when Gayle told these computer-savvy persons what I had done, they could not believe it.
In addition to the large number of stored messages, more than 1900 of them were shown as “unread.” I knew I was far behind with checking my emails, but had no idea that I was so buried in unread messages. Since that time, I have been diligent about reading the new emails and deleting the ones I no longer need to keep.
When we had walked into the restaurant, people looked around and saw four women who had totally gray or white hair. I bet they probably thought it was “happy hour” for seniors. Of course, the younger ones did balance the group somewhat.
A niece in another town teaches computer to elementary grade children. A job she really enjoys. This summer she is teaching some kindergarten children to use the computer. She said one of the little boys in that class, took his thumb out of his mouth and said, “ I really wike computers.”
When Ray worked in Woodward, I volunteered in a transitional class. These were children who had already been through kindergarten, but were not mature enough to go on to first grade. One little boy who was somewhat of a behavioral problem, would really straighten up and change his behavior when the teacher would tell him, “Now Hoover, when you finish your assignment and if you obey the rules, then you can work at the computer.”
He was a fast learner because he was doing what he enjoyed doing. Wish I could learn as fast as these young ones do.
6-10-2009
#438
The really odd part was that I could still access my Internet Explorer successfully and my Facebook. This was so frustrating and I felt isolated, because I do use my computer to constantly stay in touch with friends and family.
Gayle had some instructions from AT&T that she thought might solve this problem. She stopped by briefly one afternoon and tried this method, but it did not help any. Finally, she came by another day and was checking out my programs when she looked at me and said, “Mother, did you know you have over 17,000 emails stored on here?”
I thought she was joking, but when I looked, there was the BIG number. She began deleting those messages and eventually got them all off. She said, “I bet everyone in Waurika who has the same server as you, will see remarkably better service now.”
Last week after all this had happened, we met several members of our family from the Dallas area for lunch and visiting. We met in Decatur, Texas. Of the nine who were there, I was the oldest. Everyone there, well most of them, was much younger than I am, and when Gayle told these computer-savvy persons what I had done, they could not believe it.
In addition to the large number of stored messages, more than 1900 of them were shown as “unread.” I knew I was far behind with checking my emails, but had no idea that I was so buried in unread messages. Since that time, I have been diligent about reading the new emails and deleting the ones I no longer need to keep.
When we had walked into the restaurant, people looked around and saw four women who had totally gray or white hair. I bet they probably thought it was “happy hour” for seniors. Of course, the younger ones did balance the group somewhat.
A niece in another town teaches computer to elementary grade children. A job she really enjoys. This summer she is teaching some kindergarten children to use the computer. She said one of the little boys in that class, took his thumb out of his mouth and said, “ I really wike computers.”
When Ray worked in Woodward, I volunteered in a transitional class. These were children who had already been through kindergarten, but were not mature enough to go on to first grade. One little boy who was somewhat of a behavioral problem, would really straighten up and change his behavior when the teacher would tell him, “Now Hoover, when you finish your assignment and if you obey the rules, then you can work at the computer.”
He was a fast learner because he was doing what he enjoyed doing. Wish I could learn as fast as these young ones do.
6-10-2009
#438
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Mother was One of a Kind
“She (or he) was one of a kind.” Have you ever said this about someone you knew? All of us are different in many ways, but some are different in such unique ways that they stand apart from the rest.
As I have aged, I’ve come to recognize the uniqueness of my mother. She
had such a rare sense of humor and loved to play practical jokes. Her parents rented bedrooms to travelers coming through Boyd. I remember Mother telling of some members of a baseball team staying overnight in their hotel/home. Mother and one of her girl friends went in the boys’ rooms while they were out and stitched the bottoms of their uniform pants. The boys came back in a big hurry to change into their uniforms to begin playing and found this complication.
My sister and I thought Mother was way too strict when we were teens. If we asked to go some place or do something and she refused, we would tell her that “everyone else is going.” Her reply, “If everyone else broke a leg, would you want a broken leg?”
It was comical the way she would shift our ages. If she asked us to do
something we thought was too hard, she would say, “You mean to tell me a big
sixteen year old can’t do that?” However, the next hour when we asked for some special privilege, she came back with, “Do you think I’m going to let a twelve year old go out alone.”
As most mothers, I suppose, she was the travel agent for guilt trips. If she learned that we had mistreated someone or been unkind, she would say, “How would you like to be treated that way?” I always preferred a switching to a verbal dressing down.
And, she was a charter member of the Mothers’ Worry Club. Mother worried about us if we were home or away, about the big things and the little things.
The really amazing thing about all this is that I find myself more like my mother every day. I catch myself saying some of her favorite things, and I even have some of the same opinions she had.
As Erma Bombeck said, “I put my arm in my sweater and out comes my
mother’s arm.” I don’t know if boys and their fathers have this same connection or not, but I hope I have inherited some of my mother’s best traits and characteristics.
I trust that she forgave me for my ungrateful and rebellious years.
6-03-2009
#437
As I have aged, I’ve come to recognize the uniqueness of my mother. She
had such a rare sense of humor and loved to play practical jokes. Her parents rented bedrooms to travelers coming through Boyd. I remember Mother telling of some members of a baseball team staying overnight in their hotel/home. Mother and one of her girl friends went in the boys’ rooms while they were out and stitched the bottoms of their uniform pants. The boys came back in a big hurry to change into their uniforms to begin playing and found this complication.
My sister and I thought Mother was way too strict when we were teens. If we asked to go some place or do something and she refused, we would tell her that “everyone else is going.” Her reply, “If everyone else broke a leg, would you want a broken leg?”
It was comical the way she would shift our ages. If she asked us to do
something we thought was too hard, she would say, “You mean to tell me a big
sixteen year old can’t do that?” However, the next hour when we asked for some special privilege, she came back with, “Do you think I’m going to let a twelve year old go out alone.”
As most mothers, I suppose, she was the travel agent for guilt trips. If she learned that we had mistreated someone or been unkind, she would say, “How would you like to be treated that way?” I always preferred a switching to a verbal dressing down.
And, she was a charter member of the Mothers’ Worry Club. Mother worried about us if we were home or away, about the big things and the little things.
The really amazing thing about all this is that I find myself more like my mother every day. I catch myself saying some of her favorite things, and I even have some of the same opinions she had.
As Erma Bombeck said, “I put my arm in my sweater and out comes my
mother’s arm.” I don’t know if boys and their fathers have this same connection or not, but I hope I have inherited some of my mother’s best traits and characteristics.
I trust that she forgave me for my ungrateful and rebellious years.
6-03-2009
#437
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Veterans Deserve Honors
Starr and I joined with other persons on Monday morning for the Memorial Day honoring of our veterans. The weather was perfect and the informal ceremony was quite impressive and touching. The mournful tones of Taps concluded the event.
From the time we first moved here in 1957, if I remember correctly, the American Legion or the Disabled American Veterans had a ceremony each year on Memorial Day. I’m not certain if the earlier ones were held at the flagpole in the cemetery, or if they were held elsewhere.
To me it is sad that so few of our older veterans are still living. I believe that both the two former military veterans’ organizations are no longer active here in Waurika.
My brother, a 29 year Marine Corps veteran reminded me of the celebrations of Decoration Day in the small town where our grandparents lived. It was usually on a Sunday and friends and family members gathered at the local cemetery. Long tables had been set up and they overflowed with good food. Much of this bounty came from home gardens and was very nutritious.
After we had eaten, there were usually some speeches, and some of the late arriving attendees took time to place flowers at the graves of their loved ones.
In our early years, I’m sure we just took this as a day to meet with other family members and enjoy a good meal. We did not realize the significance of this day.
In various locations of the United States Memorial Day had been observed since the end of the Civil War. However, in many places, this was Decoration Day. In 1967, this day was officially proclaimed as Memorial Day.
We must never forget that the blood of American military veterans is spread over many countries in Europe, as well as Korea and Vietnam, and other places too numerous to mention.
Our military personnel are now engaged in two wars. This requires them to leave their homes, families and friends to serve our country. How could we ever pay them back for these sacrifices? They deserve the best medical treatments, especially rehabilitation, this country can provide.
Although I do not think of my family as being “military’” my dad served in World War I, my husband and his two brothers served in WW II, as well as my brother who was in Korea and Vietnam, plus several other family members.
I am so proud of each of these family members who were willing to give their all for our freedom and welfare.
May God bless our veterans and those who protect us now.
5-27-09
#436
From the time we first moved here in 1957, if I remember correctly, the American Legion or the Disabled American Veterans had a ceremony each year on Memorial Day. I’m not certain if the earlier ones were held at the flagpole in the cemetery, or if they were held elsewhere.
To me it is sad that so few of our older veterans are still living. I believe that both the two former military veterans’ organizations are no longer active here in Waurika.
My brother, a 29 year Marine Corps veteran reminded me of the celebrations of Decoration Day in the small town where our grandparents lived. It was usually on a Sunday and friends and family members gathered at the local cemetery. Long tables had been set up and they overflowed with good food. Much of this bounty came from home gardens and was very nutritious.
After we had eaten, there were usually some speeches, and some of the late arriving attendees took time to place flowers at the graves of their loved ones.
In our early years, I’m sure we just took this as a day to meet with other family members and enjoy a good meal. We did not realize the significance of this day.
In various locations of the United States Memorial Day had been observed since the end of the Civil War. However, in many places, this was Decoration Day. In 1967, this day was officially proclaimed as Memorial Day.
We must never forget that the blood of American military veterans is spread over many countries in Europe, as well as Korea and Vietnam, and other places too numerous to mention.
Our military personnel are now engaged in two wars. This requires them to leave their homes, families and friends to serve our country. How could we ever pay them back for these sacrifices? They deserve the best medical treatments, especially rehabilitation, this country can provide.
Although I do not think of my family as being “military’” my dad served in World War I, my husband and his two brothers served in WW II, as well as my brother who was in Korea and Vietnam, plus several other family members.
I am so proud of each of these family members who were willing to give their all for our freedom and welfare.
May God bless our veterans and those who protect us now.
5-27-09
#436
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