A Different Kind of Blog

This will be a blog of a different kind from me but it is something that I need to say.  And what better place to put it than to my friends.

My New Year resolution is quite simple.  I REFUSE to go to Walmart anymore unless it is absolutely necessary and I will give you my reasons (or you may call them excuses if you will but they are mine)

Especially the one here withing 5 miles of me.  I drive 15 miles and sometimes more to avoid going to the local one.  

I have a very bad back and when I walk a lot it gives me great pain.  So I use the handicapped carts--when one is available, that is.  Most of the time they are not in operating order due to the employees in charge of them not keeping them running properly and I am tired of going and getting an employee to come and bring me another one.  Twice they had to exchange them for another one for me in one trip.  And the ones that are capable of being used are occupied by people who do not really need them.  When did getting obese qualify you for special treatment?  Or being black.  I am all for anyone who truly needs one using it but it should be monitored and maybe give a card stating you are truly qualified to have one that has to be presented.  We have to have an order from a doctor to get a handicapped parking placard for our cars to park in the handicapped area.  Why wouldn't this work for the stores?

And I am tired of being discriminated against because I am white.  Yes, you read that statement right.  It is the blacks in this area that are racists and not whites.  I remember a long time ago I had a friend who had a maid and she asked this woman one day what it was that the blacks wanted and her reply was "The one thing you cannot give us and that is to be white". None of us has the option of what color we are born.  In the stores that are run by black managers and mostly black employees resent helping the white people do anything, even check out and get to your car.  And it is a written policy of Walmart that they will give assistance to the handicapped.  My handicap was caused by a drunk black man rear ending the car I was in and it changed my whole life. I know my limitations and am willing to live within them but I do want to be treated fairly.  

Mississippi is predominantly black in this area I live in.  They control everything--the government, the stores, the law and almost anything else you can think of.  

I believe everyone should be treated fairly and the same, but Walmart is allowing a situation that should be stopped and since I cannot stop it, I CAN stop participating in it.  I can go to Home Depot and get cleaning supplies and miscellaneous items we need.  I can go to Kroger and get all the groceries we need (and more than we need).  There are places I can buy flowers and seeds.  So many other options so why should I be insulted?

And yes, I was once very deeply involved in politics but let that go by the wayside.  Maybe that is what is wrong with this country that too many of us let it go by the wayside and got too complacent.  I was told over 50 years ago that complacency would be the downfall of the American people and I am seeing it unfold in my lifetime.And it is not a pretty sight at all.

You can agree or disagree with me but I stand on my resolution to stay out of Walmart unless it is a matter of life or death that I go there.  Sometimes one person has to make a stand and then maybe it will be two and others will join and we can straighten out all the mess in this country that was once the greatest in the world.

I wish everyone a happy 2013.

 Christmas InThe Old Country Church

Whenever Christmas comes I think of Christmas when I was growing up.  As everyone knows I grew up in the country.  This image is very much like our little Church looked.  I painted it one time long ago and donated it to the church.  Wonder if it is still there.  Years ago the steeple on the church disappeared and there were some additions to it but it is still standing but this is the way I remember it.

A few days before christmas all the women who were members and lots of the children went to clean it up for the Christmas tree.  We would all meet there with our brooms  and mops and gave it a good cleaning.  The men would go and find a huge tree to decorate for the party  When it was put on it's stand and in place we would all go to work decorating it.  Some of the ornaments were bought but a lot of them were made with love by the members.  We would use angel hair, tinsel and strung popcorn.  And always make snow from Ivory Snow whipped to the consistency of whipped cream and flung on the tree branches with large spoons.  And a star placed at the top.  It was always beautiful.

A couple of weeks before Christmas everyone would draw names so everyone would have a gift under it.  They were brought to the church and placed under the tree.  One of the men would dress in the Santa suit and come through the back door yelling ho ho ho.  He would ask for helpers and they would call out the names and everyone would go up and get their gift.  There was food and laughter and music.  And a lot of socializing.  One Christmas my dad was Santa and one little girl piped up with "That might be Santa but he has Jimmy Lewis" feet"  Dad was very pigeon toed and unfortunately I got that trait, to a degree, from him.  He was known for always joking around everyone but he couldn't seem to think of anything to say as Santa.  I remember I drew a little boy's name, who was about 3 years old and I got him a turtle you pulled around.  When he saw it he exclaimed "Oh, a turtle".  I wonder if he still remembers this.  

And this was how we celebrated Christmas when I was growing up in the little country church.  We knew how to laugh and play and I do miss those qualities in todays world.  Wishing you peace in 2013.

The Old Couple

I awoke this morning thinking about an old couple I knew a long time ago.  This is a true story.

Once upon a time there was an old couple who met and married against the wishes of the man's family. They thought she was "not like mama" and truthfully she was not.  Every speck of dust was not dusted and sometimes things were not exactly in place, but she was a very unconventional old lady.  When she was in her 80's she learned to fly a plane.  She laughed and danced all the time and made him very happy and she was happy.  She didn't cook like mama either--what a shame.  But he was happier than he had ever been with her.

Once at a family reunion held in a public park, she got up on a picnic table and danced a jig.  The TV cameras were covering a story in the park and went over and got her picture and put it on the news, bringing great shame to the uptight rest of the family.

After they had been married a few years he was hospitalized and his family actually stood guard at the door and kept her from seeing him.  He was inside the room begging to see her and she was crying outside begging to go in.  He died never seeing her again.  She was not allowed at his funeral.  I don't know the details of why they managed to have control but they did.  When she was 100 she died lonely, with no one caring, in a nursing home.  

The moral of this story, if it has one, is to judge each person on their own merits.  I think when people meet like this couple that God sent them to each other and they should be accepted for what they are to each other as long as they are happy and these two people were very happy together.  They made each other laugh as never before and laughter is more important than being a good cook or a dust-nut.

I think of them a lot of times and sincerely hope his family was punished sseverely in their later years for the injustice they did to their father and his wife.  See, now you know that I have a touch of revenge in me, but I think all of us do to a degree.  

Maybe the world should have ended.

I got an email from a close friend late yesterday that got me to thinking about a lot of things.  Mostly about the elderly in this country, of which I am one, and the treatment we get.

It angers me.  It angers me at a lot of things and a lot of people.

She had crocheted some afghans for some friends in nursing homes and delivered them.  The staff told her not to leave one as it would "disappear" as soon as she left the room.  She had to call the families and tell them she had brought them so they would know they were there even if a short time.

We played nursing homes many times because we knew this was the only entertainment they got so I know first hand how the people are treated.  My own mother died because of mistreatment in one.  And I thank God it was her choice for her to go there and not mine.  I would have never put her there nor would i put anyone there.

And it is not only these institutions that mistreat them.  There is no longer any respect in the world for anyone or anything.  The elderly are targeted because they are helpless.  Every time a benefit of some kind is taken away, it is from this group.  Their benefits, benefits they earned by their work through the years, and given to the bastards of the world.  The people who have more and more children demanding more tax dollars.  We have to feed the children breakfast in schools and most of the time it is because their mothers are too darn lazy to get out of bed and feed them or because they are in bed making more of these children for people like me who have and still are paying the taxes that support them.  It would shock you to know how many turn down jobs because they "gets" a check.  All of this and many of our elderly and veterans are homeless and people like the Salvation army try to fill the needs of food and clothing for them.  i stopped many years ago donating to the "Toys for Tots" program because one day I went to the distribution out of curiousity and saw well dressed people driving good automobiles there to take the freebies from the few who really did need them.

But back to the elderly.  How many are kept alive past their time just so the medical profession can collect more from medicare on them?  Is it really life when you do not know who or where you are?  Everyone has their own opinion on the end of life but mine is when you can no longer think or make your own decisions, then life should be and really is over for you.

Younger people complain about the elderly still driving.  Yet younger people drive drunk or on drugs and they get a slap on the wrist but just let an older person violate a law and they want to take their license.  They claim we might hurt someone -- so let them watch where they are going too and the older person won't hit them. (No, I have not been in any trouble with driving--just making a point)

People have children thinking when they get old they will be shown respect by them.  Very few cases where it works out like this,  It is usually the offspring begging the parents to get them out of jams all their life and when they can or will no longer do this, they take their property and shuffle them to a nursing home and leave them to die alone.

If I sound angry, it is because I AM angry.  Angry because of the treatment of people who worked and earned golden years and got brass instead.  Angry at all the injustice in the world that i see more and more daily in letters like I got from my friend.  Years ago I wrote a poem and hung it in the hall of the local nursing home.  Don't remember it all but it was

"Look at me in this wheelchair
All bent and grey
Don't just turn your eyes away
Look at me,

Touch me
I won't break if you j
just touch me.

Talk to me
I still have things to say
Don't just walk away,

Look at me, Look at me, Look at me!

I know I rambled but all this was on my mind and if it makes even one person stop and think and be a little kinder, I hope you will forgive my rambling.  I feel better having said it,

I made a statement on facebook a few days ago that as you get old you are fortunate enough to be able to live your childhood again if your mind is still clear.  I find I think a lot about my growing up years as I grow older.  Random events pop to mind and I find myself laughing out loud some time at these memories as I relive them.

One in particular comes to mind quite often.  I grew up in a small country village and only one store and a post office was there.  I remember in the heat of the summer we would go and sit under a shade tree by the post office to talk to the postmaster.  One summer it was 105 degrees.  And that was hot!  But I don't ever remember suffering from the heat when I was a child and I would run all day playing.

The store was the meeting place for everyone.  And on many Saturday nights we would sit on the porch, both black and white people (this was back in the days when people got along regardless of their race0  We would eat potted meat, sardines and crackers and drink cokes and all laugh and talk.  And yes, I do know that what I am about to say is not politically correct but it is not intended to offend anyone.  One of the blacks would say to the whites "We having a nigger supper, come and join us".  We would all spend hours there talking and no one tried to be mean or nasty to the others -- as I said people got along.  I had one special friend, a black woman who came and washed for us on an old washboard in the back yard on Mondays and boiled the clothes in an old iron pot and then hang them on the line to dry.  She would come back on Wednesday and iron them.  She used the old flat irons that  had to be heated by fire.  Boy did those clothes ever smell good and not a wrinkle in them.  One day my mother asked her how she planned to support herself wen she got too old to do this type work and she said "Sugar will take care of me--she say she will"  This was all she ever called me, from the time I was born until her death.  No matter what my mother cooked all she could get her to eat was cornbread with fried salt meat and the grease poured over it.  She died when she was about 60 or so due to a stroke.  When she had the stroke I sent flowers to the hospital but she died before she ever saw them so I told them to use them fro her funeral.  When the called and told me of her death, I cried like a child.  And true to my word as a child, I did help her as long as she lived and sent her money for her doctor bills and boxes of clothes.  In spite of being dirt poor she always had a smile and never looked like she was not happy.  Next to my mother and father, I loved her best of all.  Like I said, these were the times when life was good and no one had a "tude" or expected something for nothing as people now do.  You worked for what you got and were thankful for the job.

Yeah, I know I ramble and don't pay much attention to punctuation but they are just random thoughts that come in my head and I try to get them down while I am remembering them.

I had a wonderful childhood.  We didn't have a phone and I am thankful for that as it gave me more time to sit under a tree in the pasture and read.  I didn't have any electronic toys to play with but I had trees to climb and a little pond to fish in with bent pins and worms to catch the very small fish and then throw them back.  I had parents who knew the proper time to spank me with no one yelling child abuse at them.  Most of the 4 letter words I never heard of until I was an adult.  And all of these things I remember makes me more certain that I owe this to whatever success I have achieved in my life.

Thank you, Lord, for my childhood and for living long enough to remember how it was before the world went crazy,

I was sitting here in the house freezing with the heat on and remembered the ice storm that hit in 1951.  I had left home and was working in Jackson.  My dad was in the Illinois Central Railroad hospital in New Orleans and I was concerned about my mother, who was up in the country alone when I heard on the radio that the storm was coming.  I caught a bus and went the 30 miles or so home to see about her.  And got caught in the storm.  There we were, two women alone in the country with no electricity and the roads blocked so that we could not get out.  We were stuck there for a week and that was a week to remember.  The butane in the tank even froze it was so cold.  We had a kerosene lamp and just in time I saw the flames going down into the kerosene and grabbed it and threw it as far as I could out the front door and it exploded in mid-air.  We watched as a chinaberry tree fell on the car and crushed the top of it in.  There was no mail service so we couldn't hear anything from Dad who was supposed to have surgery at the hospital in New Orleans.  And to top it all off, I had a pet banty hen.  She disappeared totally.  I searched everywhere, crawling under the house and looking all around for her until I finally gave up.  She was such a pet she would fly onto my shoulder and ride as I walked along.  I was sure she was dead.  We decided if we stayed there we would be dead too so we packed a suitcase and started walking to the store about a mile away to see if we could catch a ride to Yazoo City to stay with my aunt until the ice cleared some.  So we started out walking.  I had the suitcase, and my mother had a huge sack of something she didn't want to leave.  About halfway she told me she could go no further she was so cold.  I took the sack from her and told her to hold onto my belt and walk behind me and that no darn ice storm was going to kill me.  We managed to get to the store and there was a salesman there that we knew and he gave us a lift to my aunt's.  I will never forget the look on her face when she opened the door and saw two half frozen people standing there.  All of the railroad lines were down so we still could not have any contact with my dad.  Every day we walked a couple of miles to the depot to see if any messages could get through with no luck.  After about a week of this we finally gave up.  By then the weather was beginning to moderate some so we caught a ride back home only to find the other chinaberry tree had decided to fall on the other end of the car.  The mail finally started coming through and we had a post card from Dad.  He said it was getting a little cool in New Orleans.  Oh, almost forgot to tell you, my little chicken was scratching in the yard very happily looking for something to eat.  She flew onto my shoulder as usual just like nothing had happened. We hired a man to get the trees off the car.  A few days later Dad came home and got into the car to blow the horn to let us know he was home, looked up and saw the whole top caved in and almost had a heart attack.  Moral of this long writing--stay out of ice storms.

I found my password

I have been looking for my password off and on for almost a year. Finally found it a few minutes ago where I never would have thought to look. So you may be seeing some of my ramblings again in the next few months.

Things have been very happy around here. I am married to my wonderful husband, Bill, who I dragged by the ears down from Connecticut in June 2010. We didn't quite overcome the bad knee he had but he got a Hoveround so we are totally mobile now. I didn't marry the knee, I married the man and we are totally satisfied with our marriage and each other.

I still have my cat, Tommy, and he is part of our family. At first he did not accept Bill and tried to bite him at every opportunity but now he follows him around looking to be petted...and I seem to have acquired an outside cat. I just cannot handle two cats in the house so she will have to stay outside. She is the first one I feed each morning as she is waiting at the door and we had a friend build her a little house to sleep in out of the cold.

Bill is very much into Christmas and we finally got all the Christmas things stored for next year today. The place I moved out of is being used as a storeroom for all we cannot keep here. I never was much for really decorating but I am learning as he loves it so.

'Til next time

Don't Sit With Your Back to the Door


About ten years ago I was honored to be asked to participate in a book on aging by Willard Scott.
This is my contribution to the book “The Older the Fiddle, the Better the Tune” by Willard Scott
and friends. It is a book well worth reading by anyone approaching their senior years. Among
some of the other contributors were Dr. Joyce, Brothers, George H. W. Bush, Hugh Downs, Bill
Cosby and Art Linkletter to name just a few.

Don’t Sit With Your Back to the Door
~~~~~Ann Roberts~~~~~

We thought a long time about how to explain the philosophy of life as it pertains to Aubrey and
Ann Roberts and what has made us what we are today. And I suppose this is the best explanation I can come up with.

Face life straight on. Good or bad. You are going to have to face it, and if you see it coming in
the door and it doesn’t slip up from behind, you have a better chance of dealing with it. And deal
with it you will. You may not like it, but it is there. Whether it be good times or bad times, it is
there for you to face.

As senior citizens, we have seen about all there is to see of life. We were never the kind of
people to sit in a corner and crochet, if you will. Aubrey is a musician and bandleader and also
held a regular job to support a wife and four children. I worked for a railroad for many years
until retirement. And we are both still able to do the things we enjoy. He is still playing his
music and I am involved with my art, only I do it digitally now instead of with watercolor and
oils.

Aubrey was the oldest of six children. When he was eight years old, his father was killed in an
accident, leaving his mother with no income or help of any kind. He assumed the role of helper
and through this he came to music. He found when he was fourteen he could make fifteen
dollars a night playing fiddle at country dances. The most he could make plowing for someone
was a dollar a day. So he came to music, which is his one love.

I was an only child, without even a first cousin. When I finished high school at sixteen, I got a
job. Back then, a girl either got married or got a job. There was no money for higher education,
but I managed to get a fair education through correspondence schools and night schools.

We have seen loved ones die and leave us. We are the oldest survivors of either of our families.
We lost our parents, siblings, some children and grandchildren and friends. How it hurt to lose
people we loved. We felt the loss, but still we wouldn’t sit with our backs to the door.

In 1969, I was involved in an automobile accident. A drunk diver hit us from behind. My father
was killed, and I suffered a broken back and still wear a brace, but we faced it and went on from
there. It is painful, but I have not allowed it to take priority in my life, and have learned to cope
with it without the use of drugs.

The worst time was when Aubrey had to have brain surgery in 1996 and the struggle back to a
normal life. We faced it and were up to the challenge. There is very little that he is limited in his
ability to do. He cannot lift over twenty pounds, but who wants to pick up sacks of cement
anyway! We started putting even more effort into the music and are now the best-known
Western Swing dance band in the vicinity.

We also do a lot of charity work for the disabled and elderly. And through this connection,
Aubrey was nominated for the “hero of the year” award in 2001. We proudly display the
certificate in our studio.

In our many years on earth, there have been many challenges and triumphs and never once did we shirk or shun them. And we feel it was simply because we weren’t sitting with out backs to the door.

Joys of growing old

As I grow older I realize there are many joys to it. You remember so many things and they are as fresh in your memory as if they happened yesterday.

While lying on that hard table in radiation with the mask on my face pinning me down, I remember things like the way the violets looked and smelled each spring. I was raised in the country and all along the border of the front porch there were violets. Not fancy African violets, which I also love and have had great success raising in the past, but the old fashioned kind that were so pungent with their scent. And along the front and side fences there were jonquils and daffodils and in one corner of the yard there was a bush we called a burning bush as it was covered with small red flowers. And the honeysuckle along the fence. The first bouquet of the violets each spring was taken to my favorite teacher. We remained friends until her death a few years ago and each Christmas I would send her something with a violet on it in remembrance of a long ago friendship.

We all take photographs to remember but I find I don't really need a photograph to remember the look on my parents faces. Or the perfume my grandmother wore. I can still smell it now when I remember as strongly as when she was living years ago. And I can remember my father's laughter and my mother's sweet voice and southern drawl. And all my friends of childhood. I can see their faces and remember special times.

And Aubrey the first time we met and he smiled at me. He had a smile that would melt a rock and that went through his entire life with him and with me. The first thing I notice about a person is whether their mouth curves up or down and mostly I stay away from the people with the downward curve.

And cats. I always had cats. When I was a little girl I would take cardboard boxes and make castles for the kittens to play in. I like some dogs but I like all cats. I have one now and he is a very good companion for a woman growing older as he is quiet and gentle.

Another thing about growing older is that you seem to forget all the unpleasant things in your life and all the pain and remember the good times and the laughter. So I don't have to relive that part of my life, but just the good part and this is good. Long ago, I put aside anger and seldom seem to get upset about anything anymore.

I guess what I am saying is that I am trying to embrace my age with dignity and not be the wicked witch. I am not going to say I am not afraid to die. I am. I think everyone, to some degree is because we are always afraid of what we don't know or have never experienced.

Radiation Therapy

When I was 15 I had a bad case of mono caught from dirty dishes in a drugstore where all the kids hung out. I spent 2 weeks in the hospital with a very high fever. And had a huge fever blister on my right lower lip from it. My doctor treated it with boric acid. He said it was either that or surgery which would be very noticeable for the rest of my life. My father begged him not to use the treatment as he was afraid of what might happen later in my life. Through the years I would have blisters in this area and then one day it didn't go away. After staying dormant about 50 years suddenly it started growing. I kept putting off having a biopsy made until it finally reached a point I no longer felt comfortable around people so I went for a biopsy. It was diagnosed as a basal cell cancer and I had two options. Either have very disfiguring surgery or radiation which would be less disfiguring or have radiation to shrink it. I chose the radiation.

I was fortunate to get the same doctor that had done radiation on Aubrey for his brain cancer about 15 years ago so I do feel comfortable with him in charge.

Daily I go for a treatment which only lasts a few minutes but is scary. The first day I was put on a table flat on my back and they put a warm mask on my whole face and shaped it to my exact face and took X-rays and marked the part that wold be treated. I am not going to deny being scared out of my wits with this. The next step was to the radiation room where I was again placed flat of my back on a table with the huge machine similar to the one that is shown in the photo at the top. The mask was placed back on my face. I can see through the mesh and can breathe and talk to them. Then they went out of the room and I was in there alone with this huge machine. It is controlled by a computer outside the room where they can watch me and hit the precise spots that are marked on the mask.

It is a terrible feeling to have your face in a mask and that mask attached to the table where you cannot move. Although the treatment each day only lasts for about 20 seconds and the whole time you are in the room is about 2 minutes it is still scary. The first couple of times when they got me up, I was very dizzy but the dizziness seems to have passed but I am still very uneasy. I will have to have about 25 more days of this. I go 5 days a week so expect to end the treatment in about 5 more weeks. It is totally painless and I am not restricted in any way in the things I can do.

If you suspect cancer, please don't wait. Go for a check-up. I surely wish I had listened to my doctor when he kept telling me to have a biopsy made. It is healing but all this could have been avoided had I not been so afraid to hear the word cancer.

Smart Judge

A friend sent me this and I thought it was funny.

TEXAS BEER JOINT SUES A CHURCH..... In a small Texas town, ( Mt. Vernon ) Drummond's bar began construction on a new building to increase their business. The local Baptist church started a campaign to block the bar from opening with petitions and prayers. Work progressed right up till the week before opening when lightning struck the bar and it burned to the ground. The church folks were rather smug in their outlook after that, until the bar owner sued the church on the grounds that the church was ultimately responsible for the demise of his building, either through direct or indirect actions or means. The church vehemently denied all responsibility or any connection to the building's demise in its reply to the court. As the case made its way into court, the judge looked over the paperwork. At the hearing he commented, 'I don't know how I'm going to decide this, but as it appears from the paperwork, we have a bar owner who believes in the power of prayer, and an entire church congregation that does not.'

Remembering my first love

A dear friend wrote in her blog about old cards and letters. I started thinking about the box I had that belonged to my mother and got them out again and looked through them. I found a photograph from long ago that I had missed the other time I went through them. It was of my father's best friend and my first love.

This started my memories flowing back to the time when I was in my late teens and, as young girls are likely to do, had a crush on this man. By most standards he would not have been considered good looking and I suppose the best word for him was just plain nice. A deep friendship developed between us. As he was divorced I naturally hoped to marry him when I was old enough. He did not encourage me to feel this way and in fact discouraged it, but it was there nevertheless. At one point we did consider marriage but he decided that it wouldn't work as he was so much older. So we parted as friends.

I went to work for the same railroad that my father and this man worked for and for 14 years I was in the same office with him. He was the boss in that office. He remarried and we still remained friends. When my circumstances changed I moved back to my home state and we kept in touch by letter and an occasional phone call. When he retired he and his wife moved to the Gulf Coast to a retirement village. We still kept in touch.

Once Aubrey and I went to see them but by then they had both been moved to a nursing facility. She had Alzheimer's but he was as alert as always. He asked me if I was happy and I told him I was. He said "All I ever wanted was for you to be happy".

After his retirement and move to the retirement village I always sent roses on his birthday. One day his wife's cousin called me and told me not to send them that year as he wouldn't know they were there. Shortly thereafter she called and said he had passed away. So the roses went to the funeral instead.

I have wondered through the years if I had gone on and sent them to him if somewhere in his mind he might not have known that someone still cared about him. His wife had passed away several years before and he had no family left.

I feel that no matter who you love, even if you love them more, you never seem to really forget your first love.

So my dear old friend, these roses are for you with fond memories.

Noah's Ark Everything I need to know, I learned from Noah's Ark ..
ONE: Don't miss the boat.
TWO: Remember that we are all in the same boat!
THREE: Plan ahead. It wasn't raining when Noah built the Ark.
FOUR: Stay fit. When you're 60 years old, someone may ask you to do something really big..
FIVE: Don't listen to critics; just get on with the job that needs to be done.
SIX: Build your future on high ground.
SEVEN: For safety's sake, travel in pairs.
EIGHT: Speed isn't always an advantage. The snails were on board with the cheetahs.
NINE: When you're stressed, float awhile.
TEN: Remember, the Ark was built by amateurs; the Titanic by professionals.
ELEVEN: No matter the storm, when you are with God, there's always a rainbow waiting.

This came from a very good friend via email this morning and I wanted to share.

Living in the Country

Late yesterday afternoon I was just sitting at my window looking out at the pond and the reflections. I decided to make this shot of it. As the season goes more into winter the bright colors of the fall leaves reflecting in it change daily.

I love living in the country. I was born 80 miles north of here in the country and grew up there. We lived in cities all our working years but when we retired we came back to the country.

I love the sounds of the country. The frogs on the pond, the birds in the trees and the sounds of the animals in the woods nearby. I am losing my hearing and have to have amplification now but am trying to store all the sounds I can in my memory. The hearing loss started when I was working and lightning struck the phone I had on my head to test some trouble on the line. Then it gradually worsened. I look like I am listening to a radio with the earphones on my head. Hearing aids don't work for me and the earbuds worry me falling out so I stick to the earphones.

Back when I was growing up, the woods were so deep around the house we could hear the wildcats and other animals. Only once since I have been here have I heard a wildcat.

And I love the smells of the country. Although there is a highway that runs in front of my house, I still get the smell of the grass and flowers. Nothing has ever smelled as good to me as the smell of honeysuckle early in the morning. My idea of heaven would be fields of honeysuckle.

We lived in such an isolated place when I was growing up that we didn't have a telephone until I was grown so I didn't have the disadvantage of being bothered with it. After I left to go to work when I was 17 they ran the lines where my parents could get one. It was an 8 party line and everyone listened to everyone else on it. Lack of one freed me to sit under a shade tree and read after my chores were done. I used to set up an old army cot with a pitcher of Kool Aid and surround myself with books. There was no air conditioning. Children in those days had such an advantage over children today. It saddens me to think that they have to be entertained all the time instead of learning to be self sufficient and creating their own entertainment.

I know a lot of city folk look down on country folk because they think they had no advantages. But I feel they had all the advantages to become decent people.

Yes, I do love living in the country. And I wouldn't trade it for a blue nose mule as Aubrey used to say.

My father

My father was a railroad man. Born in 1900 in Terry, Mississippi, he was the oldest by 11 months of two boys. When he was 16 his father died and his mother and the two boys survived by truck farming for a couple of years. Then shortly before he was 20, he went to telegraph school and became a telegraph operator. He went to work for a major railroad in 1920 and had over 50 years service with them before his retirement.

He loved the railroad--everything about it. He loved the big steam engines and worked many out of the way places just so he could be around them although he could have worked in a larger office.

In 1931 he married my mother, Kathie. This was the tail end of the great depression and jobs were scarce, yet he managed to keep his seniority by getting a friend to let him work the required one day out of 6 months to hold onto it. He gave the money back to his friend and that was a well kept secret as it was against the rules. He bid in the agency in Eden, Mississippi and we moved there. Then oil was discovered in Yazoo County and the agency came open in Anding, Mississippi and he bid that in. My mother and I were already there as my grandmother had passed away and we had to go and take care of my grandfather, who was alone.

We were allowed to ride anywhere we wanted free on a pass and my mother and I used to ride the train a lot.

Dad was a rather short, slender man and full of life and energy. He always had something new going on. Once he decided to plant gladiola as he loved flowers. But unlike most people who would have simply planted a couple of dozen, he planted an acre of them. They were the most beautiful I have ever seen with each stalk blooming up to 20 blossoms. The only problem was that we had trouble finding homes for all the beautiful flowers as he cut them! Then the next year he changed from flowers to garlic. And planted the whole acre in it. It surely was a difference in the smell of the place that year. Garlic is very pretty when it is growing and blooming though so we all enjoyed seeing it. The problem with that was that no one else, at all, wanted any of it.

In a way, he was a strange man. He was friendly to everyone but hard to really know. I knew he loved me but he never once told me he did. When my mother would ask did he love her, his answer was always "I married you, didn't I?" My mother told me he used to take me when I was a baby down to an old tree on the property and sing to me in the evening. I was the only child they had. When I got a little older, he took me to work with him every day. At that time he was working about 15 miles away and I would spend the whole time with him and he played with me when he had time.

The way my parents met was when he was sent to Anding to work and he boarded at my grandmother's house. He was 8 years older than she was and she immediately loved this young man, who at that time looked a bit like Clark Gable. She was engaged to another young man but soon broke that engagement to be with Dad.

I grew up with his love for the railroad and followed in his footsteps as a telegraph operator. Once you work for a railroad it never gets out of your blood. He missed it after his retirement and all these years later, I still miss it too.

These were just some random thoughts about my life with my father, who I loved dearly, but never quite understood.

He was a good man and I miss him although he has been gone 40 years this month of October 2009.

Chocolate Sings

 This was in my email this morning. Enjoy!! One day I had a date with friends for lunch. Mae, a little old "blue hair" about 80 years old, came along with them---all in all, a pleasant bunch. When the menus were presented, we ordered salads, sandwiches, and soups, except for Mae who said, "Ice Cream, please. Two scoops, chocolate." I wasn't sure my ears heard right, and the others were aghast. "Along with heated apple pie," Mae added, completely unabashed. We tried to act quite nonchalant, as if people did this all the time.. But when our orders were brought out, I didn't enjoy mine. I couldn't take my eyes off Mae as her pie a-la-mode went down. The other ladies showed dismay. They ate their lunches silently and frowned. The next time I went out to eat, I called and invited Mae. I lunched on white meat tuna. She ordered a parfait. I smiled. She asked if she amused me. I answered, "Yes, you do, but also you confuse me. How come you order rich desserts, while I feel I must be sensible? She laughed and said, with wanton mirth, "I'm tasting all that is Possible. I try to eat the food I need, and do the things I should. But life's so short, my friend, I hate missing out on something good. This year I realized how old I was. (She grinned) I haven't been this old before." "So, before I die, I've got to try those things that for years I had ignored. I haven't smelled all the flowers yet. There are too many books I haven't read. There's more fudge sundaes to wolf down and kites to be flown overhead. There are many malls I haven't shopped. I've not laughed at all the jokes. I've missed a lot of Broadway hits and potato chips and cokes. I want to wade again in water and feel ocean spray on my face. I want to sit in a country church once more and thank God for His grace. I want peanut butter every day spread on my morning toast. I want un- timed long distance calls to the folks I love the most. I haven't cried at all the movies yet, or walked in the morning rain. I need to feel wind in my hair. I want to fall in love again. So, if I choose to have dessert, instead of having dinner, then should I die before night fall, I'd say I died a winner, because I missed out on nothing. I filled my heart's desire. I had that final chocolate mousse before my life expired.." With that, I called the waitress over.. "I've changed my mind, " I said. "I want what she is having, only add some more whipped cream!" This is my gift to you - We need an annual Friends Day! If you get this twice, then you have more than one friend. Live well, love much & laugh often - Be happy. SHARE THIS WITH YOUR FRIENDS including me if I'm lucky enough to be counted among them. Be mindful that happiness isn't based on possessions, power, or prestige, but on relationships with people we love and respect. Remember that while money talks, CHOCOLATE SINGS!

Look at me

I have an absolute horror of nursing homes. Aubrey and I did quite a bit of volunteer work in them during the last years of his life and came to know the cruelty that is put upon the patients, especially the ones in wheelchairs who cannot defend themselves. If it ever became necessary for me to go to one, I hope someone shoots me at the front door before I go in. I watched them mistreat my mother and some friends and have first hand knowledge of the way people are treated. And they pay a huge price for the so-called care they are given in them. While visiting my mother one day, I wrote this little poem and found it on my computer this morning. I deliberately have no pictures of her in her wheelchair as I did not want to remember her that way. I want to remember her smiling and happy and not with her head down and no hope.

Look at me
By Ann Roberts

Look at me
In this wheelchair
All bent and gray
Don't just turn your eyes away
Look at me.

Touch me
I won't break if you
Just touch me.
I can still feel the touch of a friend
Oh the days without end
When no one will
Touch me

Talk to me
Don't just say
How are you and walk away.
Although I am old and gray,
I still have things to say.
Talk to me.

Please
Look at me
Touch me
Talk to me

LOOK AT ME, look at me, look at me!

In memory of my father

On October 25, 1969 my father was killed in a car wreck by a drunken driver who hit us from behind. A while later I wrote this in memory of him. He never called me anything but Nancy.


The Keys
By Ann Roberts

Nancy lay in the hospital bed looking at the ring of keys the nurse had brought to her. They were her father's keys. Several hours before, Nancy, her mother and father had been involved in a terrible automobile accident. Her father was dead and her mother had been transferred to a larger hospital. She was alone. She had sent her husband with her mother to the other hospital so her mother would have someone with her when she regained consciousness and was told of her husband's death.

As she looked at the keys and carefully examined them, her thoughts were in turmoil. This one was the one to the house. The house her parents had paid for one note at the time until it was paid for and then improved one note at the time. Now that he was gone, what would her mother do?

She fondled another one. This one was to the office where he had worked for 50 years. He had kept the key as a memento after his retirement. He had still been welcome there.

The next one was to the automobile. He was so proud of it. He had saved his money until he could pay cash for it and it was now gone, along with him.

The accident happened one sunny afternoon in October 1969. He had wanted to take a ride and asked Nancy to go along with them. Her mother decided to drive.
They were all riding along laughing and talking when suddenly there was an impact from behind. The last thing she ever said to her father was "People should live with love and not hate".

It hit so hard the gas tank flew off into the road. The car careened down a fifty-foot embankment into a pine tree. Her father didn't stand a chance. The glove compartment flew open and was driven into his sternum. Her mother had multiple breaks and contusions. Nancy had a crushed vertebra. The doctor had said there was a chance she would never walk again and at best would always have to wear a brace. At this moment, this was secondary to what she was feeling.

The driver of the automobile that hit them so suddenly and cruelly from behind had no brakes and the driver was drunk. He suffered no injury at all.

As she kept looking at the keys and thinking, the thought came to mind "Is this all there is, you live, you die and someone hands you a ring of keys to signify that you were once really here." And the tears that she had not been able to shed until now came in a rush and she screamed out with the anguish and pain "Oh God, is this really all there is to life?"

Be Kind to Your Web-footed Friends

A long time ago Mitch Miller used this as his theme song. "Be Kind to your Web-footed Friends, for a duck may be somebody's mother." The following is a true story that happened to a friend of mine and for some reason it brought to mind this song when it happened.

The Inheritance

By Ann Roberts

Joseph read the letter he had just received and thought to himself "I just got back from burying Uncle John and now the lawyer wants me to come back out there to tie up some loose ends". This would mean taking more time off from his job and he needed the money badly for his family. And over the years when he would go to check on Uncle John, his wife would get upset at him. Uncle John had left home many years before and moved to Texas to make his fortune. Apparantly, all his dreams had fallen through and he lived as a pauper. Joseph was the only one in the family who ever tried to spend any time with him or help him.

Uncle John, when alive, had not been a very pleasant person to be around and the rest of his family had stayed away. But Joseph felt someone should go to see to his needs once in a while so he went.

The letter sounded as though the trip was absolutely necessary, so he took the time from his job and left the next day. He thought all the way about his uncle. Every time he had gone to see about him, Uncle John had seemed glad to see him and thanked him for his help. He just could not understand why he was the only one who ever bothered to go. Surely, some of them were better able to make the trips.

When he arrived at the lawyer's office, he was taken to a private room. The lawyer told him he had been named sole heir to his uncle's estate. Joseph thought "What in the world will I do with the few things that Uncle John had? I have no place to store them so I suppose I will just give them away." After the will was read the lawyer asked Joseph if he knew what his uncle had left him. When Joseph replied that he really didn't the lawyer smiled and said "Your uncle left you almost three million dollars and if you will sign these papers it all belongs to you."

Dear Nannie

I lost my mother in 2001. This is a tribute to her. She was one of the most beautiful souls I ever knew.



For a long time now I have wanted to write this to you. Remember how when I was working away all those years we wrote each other almost daily and talked often.

I wonder now if you ever knew how much I admired you for your courage in going on for 30 years after Dad was killed in the wreck and after your severe injuries in that wreck caused so needlessly by a drunken driver with no brakes.

I remember so many things about those 30 years about you and your acceptance and coping.

I did the best I could in taking care of you through your 5 month stay in the hospital and then when you came home you had already gotten an automobile ready for the day when you would again be able to drive.

You didn't have much formal education but you had a lot of smarts. True, I had to keep your books for you and do a lot of things most women can do for themselves, but Dad kept you down by not allowing you to do these things. I know now he wanted to take care of his "Southern Belle" and that is always what you were...a person to be cherished and cared for. I used to think he was wrong but now I know he was just doing the best he could.

I admire you for the way you always looked so pretty in your nice clothes when you would come in from church and I would be at your house to spend some time with you. I wish I had said to you "How pretty you look today". I always knew I would never be beautiful like you were but it didn't matter.

I remember coming home from school and starting to call your name when I got close to the house walking and then running so I could tell you what had happened that day. I remember how you played with me like you were my age and my friend and not my mother.

I remember all the funny little things you did like the time you locked the keys in the car and left it running all night and calling the next morning to ask Aubrey if he would come down and not bring me as you were afraid I would fuss at you. There was no way he was going to get out of the house without me and when I saw you I burst out laughing. It did no harm to the car.

It was said that you were not the smartest gal around but you knew how to love and that is really what is important in this life. To know how to give and receive love.

I admired you for going on with your life and for going on even at 90 to the dances we played and you always having a man to dance with and go places with.

I admired you when you had the broken hip and the stroke and how you and I together coped with it for over 3 years until you left me. Those times were hard and broke you financially and I also had to put in a lot of money but I thanked God your mind was still intact and we could communicate as always. After you left Aubrey said he didn't think I could make it without you. It has been very hard but I hope you would be proud of me.

You really should have been born when Southern ladies sat under magnolia trees and sipped mint juleps.

I hope you heard the words I said at your funeral when asked if I had anything to say about what you taught me and I said "She taught me to love". To me, this is the greatest gift a parent can give a child and you gave it to me.

Thank you for being my hero. I miss you.