Mr. Turner Had Pigs: A True Story

Today I'm thinking about Mr. Turner.

When I was a little girl, I lived in a very small town in the hill country of South Carolina on the North Carolina line.  There was a Mr. Turner who owned a shoe store located beside my Daddy's TV Repair store uptown, but there was another Mr. Turner who lived out in the country.  That Mr. Turner had pigs!

I just loved pigs.

Daddy and both Mr. Turners were friends, but we only ever went to visit the Mr. Turner in the country.  I LOVED going to Mr. Turner's house.  He had a very long porch that was excellent for running when it was raining.  I would run and run and run on that porch until Daddy made me stop.  Back and forth and back and forth with my arms stretched out wide or swinging in time to my feet.  Elbows bent as I ran and ran.

Oftentimes I'd look down and watch my feet as I ran.  I fancied myself very fast.  I'm guessing I was about three or four years old at the time.  Hair flying behind my back as I ran and ran and ran. 

If it wasn't raining when we visited, Mr. Turner would take me to see the pigs.  He would carry their food in a big metal bucket and say, "Soo-ee!  Soo-pig!  Soo-ee!" and here they'd come a'running.  Snortin' and gruntin' and carryin' on like only pigs can do. 

Sometimes Mr. Turner would let me call the pigs.  I'd yell as loud as I could, "Soo-eeeeeee!!!  Soo-pig-sooooo-eeeee!" in my little girl voice and clap my hands and dance with delight when they'd finally come.  Daddy and Mr. Turner would just grin. 

Mr. Turner would "slop the pigs" by pouring the contents of that big metal bucket into a long wooden trough.  The "slop" was mostly day old bread, old vegetables from the garden, milk about to go bad, and such.  It had a smell I will never forget.  Pig slop always smelled like that.

The pigs ate that food like they were starving to death.  They stuck their little flat noses in that trough and ate and ate and ate and grunted the whole time.  Their fat bellies got rounder and rounder every time I saw them.  

Mr. Turner took good care of his animals.  I can just see him.  He was very tall compared to me and he always wore an old hat which made him look taller.  He wore overalls that had about a million pockets to hold apples and such to give the Mama pigs as treats.  

Sometimes those pockets even held a piece of hard candy or a penny for a little girl.  You just never knew what to expect.

I used to look forward to visiting Mr. Turner with my Daddy.  We used to visit him a lot, but when Daddy got sick we didn't visit anyone anymore. 

Many years later when I was a teenager I happened upon Mr. Turner's old house.  It was deserted then and had fallen into disrepair. Everything overgrown and rotting.  No pigs to slop.  No Mr. Turner keeping everything in order.  But the saddest thing I saw was the old porch on the house.  It look like the years had shrunk it, just like putting a wool sweater in a dryer.  The porch looked narrow and not long at all. My teenage legs could run that porch in a just few leaps.  It made me so very sad.

Mr. Turner and his porch and his pigs still live larger than life in my memory though.  He's standing there smiling with a chaw of tobacco in his mouth and his thumbs stuck in a couple of those pockets while he's listening to the latest news from town told by my Daddy.  

Those were the days, dear readers.  Yes.  Those were the days.

Shel Silverstein

Today I'm thinking about Shel Silverstein.  For those of you who do not recognize the name, I am truly sorry you have lived this long without experiencing his work. 

Shel Silverstein was an author, a poet, a dreamer, a schemer, a songwriter, a singer, a screenwriter, a playwright, an artist, a cartoonist, a veteran, and just an all-around remarkable man.  He was born September 25, 1930 and died May 10, 1999.  He called himself Uncle Shelby.

Shel Silverstein

One of my favorite of his children's books is The Giving Tree.  In the book the tree gives everything it has to the child as the child grows up.  The child does not seem thankful at all, but just keeps asking for more.  

I've often wondered why Uncle Shelby wrote the child to be so selfish with no seeming redeeming qualities, but if I think about it, I have to admit humanity is pretty much the same.  I feel so sorry for the tree in the story, but the tree seems content to give and the child seems okay with taking and taking and taking offering nothing in return. 

I think this book is one of my favorites because it is honest.  It doesn't even try to color-coat the truth. 

Yes.  I love Uncle Shelby's children's books, but his poems hold my heart.  I just love them.  They make me laugh. 

I bought his books of poetry as they were published (beginning in the 1970s) and still have them on my bookshelf today: Where the Sidewalk Ends, A Light in the Attic, Falling Up.

I read these poems to my sons over and over and over as they were growing up.  Their favorite was:

SMART (from Where the Sidewalk Ends)
by Shel Silverstein

My dad gave me one dollar bill
'Cause I'm his smartest son,
And I swapped it for two shiny quarters
'Cause two is more than one!

And then I took the quarters
And traded them to Lou
For three dimes -- I guess he don't know
That three is more than two!

Just then, along came old blind Bates
And just 'cause he can't see
He gave me four nickels for my three dimes,
And four is more than three!

And I took the nickels to Hiram Coombs
Down at the seed-feed store,
And the fool gave me five pennies for them,
And five is more than four!

And then I went and showed my dad,
And he got red in the cheeks
And closed his eyes and shook his head--
Too proud of me to speak!

---

But my all time favorite was:

HECTOR THE COLLECTOR (from Where the Sidewalk Ends)
by Shel Silverstein

Hector the Collector
Collected bits of string,
Collected dolls with broken heads
And rusty bells that would not ring.

Pieces out of picture puzzles,
Bent-up nails and ice-cream sticks,
Twists of wires, worn-out tires,
Paper bags and broken bricks.

Old chipped vases, half shoelaces,
Gatlin' guns that wouldn't shoot,
Leaky boats that wouldn't float
And stopped-up horns that wouldn't toot.

Butter knives that had no handles,
Copper keys that fit no locks,
Rings that were too small for fingers,
Dried-up leaves and patched-up socks
.
Worn-out belts that had no buckles,
'Lectric trains that had no tracks,
Airplane models, broken bottles,
Three-legged chairs and cups with cracks.

Hector the Collector
Loved these things with all his soul,
Loved them more than shining diamonds,
Loved them more than glistenin' gold.

Hector called to all the people,
"Come and share my treasure trunk!"
And all the silly sightless people
Came and looked...and called it junk.

---

My very favorite of the songs Uncle Shelby wrote was sung by Johnny Cash.  It was called: A Boy Named Sue.  Enjoy!



To learn more about Shel Silverstein visit http://www.shelsilverstein.com/

A Dog's Purpose - You Want to Read This Book AND See This Upcoming Movie

Back in 2011 I was looking for a good book to read when the title "A Dog's Purpose: A Novel for Humans" caught my eye in my local Barnes and Noble Book Store.

If you have been following my blog, you already know that I am a dog person.  I love dogs.  All dogs.  Big dogs. Little dogs. Fat dogs.  Skinny dogs.  All dogs.  But the dogs I love the MOST are always my own dogs.  They are THE BEST dogs in the Universe in my opinion, which is as it should be, but I digress....

So...when I saw the book A Dog's Purpose, I picked it up and took it home.

I had never read any of the author's work before, so I was hopeful I would like the book. I'm always looking for new authors to love. This author's name was W. Bruce Cameron.

That night I decided to just read a chapter or two before going to sleep.  At 3:00 AM I decided that being a zombie at work the next day was a small price to pay for reading just a little more.

I finished the book in record time and then I read it again about a week later.  I've read that book many times now and I love it every single time.  I've given the book to friends who have lost dogs (or just who love dogs) with the command, "Whatever you do, DO NOT STOP reading the book!!" 

You will be tempted to stop reading.  There are times in the book that you will cry out loud.  You will feel like you just can't finish that thought.  It is just too painful.  DO NOT STOP.  Seriously.  This is the BEST book ever.

Yes.  It will make you cry out loud, but it will also make you laugh out loud!

The book follows a dog through many incarnations.  Yup.  The dog is reincarnated over and over.  Each life teaches the dog new things, but the dog's last life in the book is the very best of all.

If you have not yet read it, RUN; do NOT walk; to the nearest library or book store and pick up a copy NOW, OR just click HERE to order your copy online.  You can thank me later.

Now recently, to my great surprise and delight, I discovered that this book has been made into a movie slated to be released January 27, 2017.  To see the cast and crew click HERE.

I CAN NOT WAIT!!!

Here is the trailer for the upcoming movie.  (MAJOR SPOILER ALERT:  Do NOT watch the trailer below before finishing the book unless knowing large parts of the story in advance is okay with you.) 

😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

Dear Citizens of These United States of America

WAKE UP!!!

I'm so upset at the social media feeds I see.  Long time friends and family at each others' throats.  Refusing to listen to each other.  Stubbornly clinging to the theory of, "I'm right and you're wrong and that's it."

I recently posted a message about executive bankers escaping punishment when their organization stole both identities and money from its loyal customers, and just because a democrat delivered that message in the post I actually had a republican friend say she didn't give a hoot about what was said!  

I have to believe that my friend did not listen to the message.  I have to believe that any intelligent adult knows that message needed to be said.  Employees working at the direction of their superiors should never take all the punishment while those superiors escape with millions of dollars and no punishment at all.  Never ever.

Our nation has become a nation of US and THEM.  We are fighting amongst ourselves, and it scares me to death.  

Back in 1768 John Dickinson wrote a ballad called The Liberty Song.  The fourth verse of that ballad declares, "By uniting we stand, by dividing we fall!"  This lyric gave birth to the common slogan, "United We Stand! Divided We Fall!" 

These are not just idle words.  

We are Americans!  We should always stand together!  We need to stop fighting each other.  We need to learn respect for each other.  

We are Americans FIRST!  Political party, race, gender, age, religion, rich, poor, etc. should all be secondary.  It is important that we work together.  Listen to each other.  We have to preserve our Nation.  

America

America is not a generic blanket
America is a multicolored quilt

Patched together from all the nations of the Earth
Sewn with blood and tears
Spread from shore to shore

Each and every American is part of this quilt
Every single one of us
Hurt one of us and all of us bleed
We are one

When we squabble and fight each other, the eyes of the world are upon us.  Those envious of our great nation are just looking for an opening...a little rip in one of our seams.  That's all they need to start tearing us apart.  Pitting us against each other.  They use the media to broadcast these tears, to show the world that we are weakened.  We are divided.

WAKE UP AMERICA!

Stop arguing.  Stop fighting.  Stop hurting one another.  Stop the violence.  Listen to one another, and, by all means, VOTE!

In 1790 still only WHITE MALE adult property-owners had the right to vote.

American BLACK MEN were given the right to vote on February 3, 1870.

American WOMEN were given the right to vote on August 18, 1920, when my own father was 19 years old.  He and his mother voted in their first presidential election together.

On June 2, 1924 NATIVE AMERICANS were granted American citizenship and thus given the right to vote in most states.  (New Mexico was the last of the states to deny the vote to Native Americans.  New Mexico did not allow Native Americans to vote until 1962.)

American 18 YEAR OLDS were given the right to vote on July 1, 1971, which means thousands or more of young American people died in many wars without ever having the right to vote.

Many people suffered to give all of us the right to vote.  VOTE.  Please VOTE, but stop the arguing like children on the playground.

Listen to one another before making decisions.  Be respectful of one another.  Settle our differences peacefully and thoughtfully. Be willing to compromise for the better good.

Please. 

The fate of our Nation depends on it.

Remembering Hurricane Hugo: A True Story

Hurricanes are like wars.  The destruction is brief compared to the clean up of debris and lives.  The emotional scars of both seldom ever truly heal.

Back in late September 1989 Hurricane Hugo, a category 5 storm, set its sights on South Carolina.  It made landfall as a category 4 hurricane just north of Charleston, SC, and people 27 years later are still thinking and talking about it.

To view some photos of the devastation click HERE.

The coastal regions of the Carolinas and Georgia took the brunt of the storm, of course, but Hugo was not satisfied to just destroy the cities on the coast.  Hugo went to Charlotte.

I was married with three sons (ages 11, 13, and 15) and living in Blacksburg, South Carolina at the time.   Blacksburg sits in Cherokee County on the North Carolina / South Carolina line on I-85 about an hour's drive from Charlotte.  The storm raged all night that night and into the day that day and then it became eerily quiet as the eye passed.  We thought the worst was over.  We were wrong.  The back side of the storm was worse than the first.  The wind howled and stormed its way through those hills like I had never seen it do before or since.  It was a nightmare.  

I was home alone with my sons that day and we were scared to death.  

Our house was located in the middle of a hardwood forest.  You could not see the neighbors from our home.  The hurricane force wind that somehow made it so far inland was whipping our trees like they were just hickory switches.  Many trees fell in our forest.  Everyone anywhere around lost power, which means, since we had well water, we lost water too because our well pump was electric. 

We fared better than most.  Our house was left intact with no damage.  Our cars were okay.  We were alive and well.  

But that was not the tale for our Carolina lowcountry people and our neighbors to the north and east, York, Rock Hill, Kings Mountain, Gastonia, Belmont, Charlotte.  All those cities and areas had major damage.  

Once our electricity came back on and we could see the news, I experienced sheer terror.  You see, I couldn't reach my brother, Tom, on the telephone and Tom and his family lived in Summerville, South Carolina at the time. Ordinarily, Summerville is a lovely little city just north west of Charleston, South Carolina, but at that time Summerville was devastated.

I tried and tried and tried to call Tom, but all the phone lines were down.  We did not have cell phones back in 1989, so we were relying on Southern Bell (BellSouth) whose lines between the upstate and the lowcountry were mostly all cut by fallen trees and such.  It took nearly a week for me to reach my brother.  By that time I was truly frantic, but he was okay.

Tom, who had been career US Navy, wasn't afraid of storms.  He's seen many a storm on the high seas, so he thought he'd go outside to see the hurricane that night, but about the third freight train that came down his street drove him indoors.  Those "freight trains" were actually tornadoes spawned by the hurricane.  Everyone said they sounded like freight trains.  

Tom's neighborhood was in shambles, but his house was spared major damage.  His family was okay in Goose Creek, South Carolina as well although their house had roof damage.  

I breathed a long sigh of relief once I was able to talk to Tom.  I felt like I had been holding my breath for a week not knowing if he and his family were okay.  

Six years after Hurricane Hugo I moved to lovely Charleston, South Carolina.  Then in September 1999 Hurricane Floyd, another category 5 hurricane decided to visit the Carolinas.  It had downgraded to category 2 by the time it made landfall, but made its mark all the same.

But that is a story for another day.  I'll tell it to you by and by.

Autumn Decorations! Autumn Food!

Autumn!!!  Finally!!!  I love Autumn most of all.  I especially love all the Fall foods and decorations, so I thought I'd share a few ideas today.  These would make great gifts too.  Enjoy!

Click the links below to view the items.

• Fall Maple Leaf Garland - 6 Feet ($13.97)
• 10 Piece Artificial Gourds and Pumpkins ($14.99)
• Berry and Autumn Leaves Wreath ($16.99 - Pictured Above)
• Fiber Optic Autumn Wreath ($16.99)
• Fall Trees Shower Curtain ($19.90 - Pictured Below)
• Green Mountain Coffee K-Cup for Keurig Brewers, Pumpkin Spice ($19.95 for 24 cups)

I may actually have to buy some of these things.  I especially like the wreath pictured above and the shower curtain pictured below.

Now I'm also thinking about pumpkin cheesecake and pumpkin spice coffee and apple cider and and and...  Okay.  I'm stopping now.  I'm obviously hungry. I better go eat something.  😉

The Wilkins Kids Haunted House

Today I'm remembering the Wilkins kids.  

When I was born we lived across the street from them.  The children were: George, Sally, Bruce, Philip, and Stephen.

Philip and I were the same age.  He's a dentist in Winnsboro, SC now.  He always wanted to be a dentist.  I used to be envious of him always knowing what he wanted to be when he grew up.

Me?  I wanted to run away with the circus most of my childhood, but that's another story.

Today I'm remembering one Fall of the year back in the late 1950s when the Wilkins' children made a "Haunted House" in their basement.  They charged a penny to go through it. 

It was pretty gross.  

They had it set up in the pitch black dark and one of them would walk (or push!) you through.  They would jump out and grab you to scare you a couple of times and make scary noises, but what I remember most were the disgusting things.

Those boys could be pretty disgusting at any given time, but they really put their minds together to come up with repulsive things for their Haunted House.  

I can just see them plotting and laughing as they gathered their vile offerings.

They put your hand in a bowl of spaghetti for guts, big olives for eyeballs, some kind of thick jello nastiness for brains, something disgusting for cut-off fingers and toes, something for spiders, puke, etc.  -shudder-  I may have been scarred for life.  -grin-

I went through it several times.  -laughing-  

Now I'm wondering if they remember doing that.  It was a very long time ago....

The Wilkins' Old House - 2016

The Wilkins' old house is still there today, but the parents built a new house and moved many years ago now.  I still think about this old house sometimes though.  It holds a lot of childhood memories for me.  I'll tell you more about it by and by.

Dog Park Etiquette and Charleston, SC Dog Park Locations

My dogs LOVE Dog Parks! 

Charleston, SC has many Dog Parks in and around the area where I live.  One of my dogs' favorite dog parks is the James Island County Park Dog Park.  It has a lake where they can swim or just get wet and play. 



See how happy they are?

Stark is the Red Heeler (Australian Cattle Dog) and Dolly is the sable colored Border Collie with the white blaze down her face.  The other dogs are just dog park friends.  

Dog parks are GREAT for socializing your dogs.  They not only encounter other dogs of all breeds and temperaments, but they see all kinds of people: men, women, children, people with hats, people with sunglasses, people of all ages, tall people, short people, people with tattoos, etc.  

There are some rules to follow, of course, for your safety and for the safety of others, as well as the safety of the dogs.

Dog Park Etiquette

1. Pay attention to your dog
   
   If there is a scuffle, remove your dog immediately.  Do NOT allow your dog to harass other dogs or people. NO FIGHTING!  Even play fighting is NOT okay at a dog park. Teach your dog manners!
   
   
2. Pick up after your dog
   
   Most dog parks even provide bags and garbage cans for this purpose.  Please use them.
   
   
3. Pause before you enter the dog park
   
   If there are excited dogs at the gate, that is not the right time to enter.  Wait until the coast is clear and everyone calms down.  You'll have a better experience all around if you do.
   
   
4. NEVER leave your dog in the dog park unattended.
   
   If you left your sunglasses in the car or whatever and you have to leave the eyesight of your dog to retrieve them, take your dog with you or have a friend in the park watch your dog for the few seconds it takes you to retrieve the item(s).
   
   
5. Make sure your dog has had all his/her shots and is protected from fleas and ticks before taking him/her to the Dog Park.
   
   
6. Have your dog spayed or neutered.
   
   
7. NEVER take a dog in heat to the Dog Park!  That is just asking for disaster.
   
   
8. Do NOT take puppies younger than four months old to the dog park.
   
   
9. If there are too many dogs at the dog park for your dog to feel comfortable, by all means, leave and come back when there are less dogs there.  Dog parks should always be all about the dogs.
   
   
10. When your dog signals it is time to go, listen and leave.  Dogs can become stressed after too long at the dog park - especially elderly dogs or puppies.  Always do what is best for your dog.
    
    
11. Don't hand out dog treats at the dog park, but water is always okay!
    
    
12. Never take a sick dog to the Dog Park.

Dog parks are such fun!  I hope you will consider taking your dog soon.  Most people automatically follow the above rules, as they want their dogs to have good experiences. 

---

Here is a list of Dog Parks my dogs and I visit in the Charleston, SC area.  If you live in an urban or suburban area, you most likely have dog parks near you too.  If not, you may want to ask your city or county to provide one.

Charleston, SC and Surrounding Areas Dog Parks

Fenced Dog Parks

1. James Island County Park Dog Park
2. Ackerman Park DogRun
3. Hampton Park Dog Park
4. Hazel Parker Park Dog Run
5. Bees Landing Recreation Area Dog Park 
6. Folly Beach Bark Park
7. Wannamaker County Park
8. Palmetto Islands County Park in Mount Pleasant
9. Wassamassaw Park in Summerville

No Fence Off-Leash Areas

1. Brittlebank Park Off-Leash Area
2. Lenevar Park Off-Leash Area 
3. Cannon Park Off-Leash Area
4. Sullivan's Island Beach (5:00 am to 10:00 am)

High School Year Book Messages

Remember all those old junior high and high school yearbook messages?  Most of them say things like, "Best of luck," or "I've enjoyed being in your Math class," or some such, but some of them are worth reading again nearly 50 years later.  Like this one written to me in the Spring of 1969:

Click the photo for a larger version, so you can read it better.

This was written in my 8th grade yearbook by my favorite Junior High English teacher, Thomas G. Gibbons.  I dedicated my first book of poetry to him.  I only wish he would have lived to read the dedication.  (By the way, I have no clue why he wrote "oo" after my name.  I'm sure it meant something at the time.)

This one makes me feel good about my writing too:

John grew up to be a neonatologist somewhere in Georgia. 

Then, as I'm reading, I encounter entries like this:


This yearbook entry was written in the spring of 1970.  I find several things disturbing about it:

1. First of all, I went to school with several Janets and I have no clue which one wrote this. 
   
2. The instructions are for me to always remember something about cutting cartwheels in PE. 
   
   I sure wish I could remember that. 
   
3. I'm also not supposed to forget the time I nearly blew up Mrs. Roberts' house playing football. 
   
   Now I'm wondering, which Mrs. Roberts and what the devil I was doing playing football that nearly caused her house to explode???

Lord.  It is a miracle that I lived to grow up. 

Now, this one made me laugh out loud:

I'm fairly sure that Don wrote this same thing in all the girls' yearbooks, but it is still pretty funny.  Funnier if you knew Don.

To end today's post, I'd just like to say, if you find yourself writing in a yearbook anytime in the future, please sign your full name.  Writing something personal or funny is good too...something memorable.  In 40something years your friends' future selves will thank you for it.  

Also, take those old yearbooks off the shelf.  Dust them off, and look at them once in awhile.  They're always good for a smile.  😀

The Grandest of Sisters

Today I'm thinking about my granddaughters, Sharon and Paige.  They truly are grand girls!  They are both teenagers now.  

They've grown up way too fast.  Way. Too. Fast. 

As I look at some of the pictures from their lives so far, I can't help but think how blessed they have been to have had each other all these years.  Siblings can truly be blessings.  Admittedly, sometimes they appear to be blessings in disguise, but the older I become the more thankful I am for my own siblings, and the more thankful I am that my son and his wife decided to have two children.

Just look at these girls.  Aren't they great together? Click the picture for a larger view.

The two photos of them as babies are my very favorites.  I took these the first time Sharon ever met Paige.  We told Sharon that her Mama had gone to the hospital to get her a baby sister for her to love, so Sharon loved her and kissed her on the forehead so very sweetly.  Precious sisters.

I wish all sibling relationships could be good like this, but that is not the case, of course.  Not all sibling relationships are good.  I know this perhaps as well as anyone.  It is okay to remove any and all toxic relationships from your life.  Loving someone does NOT mean you have to allow them to continually hurt you, but even with the hurtful sibling relationships, it is good to be thankful for the good times.  It is always good to be thankful.

Life is full of blessings.  Sometimes we have to search and search to find them, but they are there.  Feed the blessings and they will breed.  Encourage joy and it will grow.  Remember the good times often and be blessed.  

These are my wishes for you today, dear readers.  I am thankful for YOU! May you find blessings where you least expect them.  😍

Charleston, SC is Blooming Again! A Charleston Autumn is in the Air.

There is no true Autumn or Winter in Charleston, SC.  A Charleston Autumn means fruits, vegetables, and flowers!!

If you are a Summer person, you should absolutely visit.  You will find your kind of people here in droves.  I am not now, nor have I ever been, a Summer person, so after I retire I plan to only visit in months that contain an "R" in their names.

In late September, when all areas of South Carolina that are NOT located in the Lowcountry start showing off their gorgeous Autumn colors, Charleston blooms again.

If you can keep your plants alive through the unrelenting summer heat and humidity here, they will bloom and/or bear fruit (or vegetables) again when the lows finally start dipping down below 80, usually around mid-to-late-September.

Azaleas, roses, actually all the summer flowers that stopped blooming in the heat, will put on a show again just like Spring.  

Tomatoes will bear again.  I've actually picked tomatoes off my vines to serve for Christmas dinner.  The one frost we usually get in January or February will zap them, but otherwise they will bear until they are too old to live any longer.

When I first moved to Charleston in 1995, I didn't mind the weather so much.  Back then my breathing problems had not yet developed, so I could better deal with the heat.  Having flowers bloom 12 months out of the year was exciting and beautiful.

After about ten years or so though, I started missing the colors of Autumn.  The brisk breezes.  Campfires.  Coats, sweaters, and mittens.  Breathing that icy clean smell of winter's first snow.  Hearing the hushed quiet of naked sleeping trees, but what I missed most was no mosquitoes or fleas for half the year.

Charleston is green all year long.  The live oaks here with their hanging Spanish moss have two sets of leaves every year.  They shed their leaves as they are growing new ones in the Spring and again in the Fall, but they are always green and beautiful.  You do end up raking a LOT of leaves though.  The tall and lovely Magnolia trees drop their leaves and grow new ones constantly, but their blooms are sure gorgeous.

For those of you who love to travel, Charleston is a lovely place to visit.  Steeped in history, charm, and mystery, it is one of the most romantic cities in America.  When I retire and move away, I hope to visit Charleston at times, when the weather is nice and the beach people have all flown home for winter.  That is when I love Charleston best.   

November to March will be my chosen times to come, when it is good walking weather.  I just love to walk and window shop in Charleston.  Maybe explore all the art galleries and little shops before a wonderful dinner and live music or a play.  Yes.  Charleston is a lovely place to visit.  I plan to return to see my friends and enjoy the "winter" weather here now and then.  That will be nice.

I honestly can not wait to retire!!

Picture Day!

It was "Picture Day" at The Citadel this week.  Shoes were shined.  Buckles were polished.  Everyone showed up for photos.  Even faculty, staff, and administrators gathered for departmental photos.  Fresh faced and looking their best.

This has not always been the case for me on picture day as you can see in these photos below.

Yes. I've been looking through old photos again.  I found these ten school "Picture Day" photos of myself.  A decade of change....

Lord.  Look at my hair!  

I've never had much luck with my hair, I guess.  I hated my hair most in second grade, but at this point in my life I have to admit that it did look the most stylish that year.  I hated it at the time though.

I guess I'm just not that much of a stylish person.

I think I like my third grade photo best.  I'd like to know that girl.  She looks eager and hopeful.  There is an excitement about her like she may be heading for adventure, and she can't wait to tell you about it!  

Yep.  That about sums me up in third grade.  One of those adventures gave me a broken arm a few weeks after this photo was taken.  My right arm was in a big heavy cast when JFK was assassinated that November 22nd.

Now I'm wondering how much I've changed these past ten years.  A decade is a long time.

Where will I be in ten more years?  How different will my life become after I retire and move away from Charleston, SC?  Charleston has been my home since 1995.  It will be a big change to leave, but I feel strongly that I need to move back to hill country or mountains.  I'm so tired of perpetual summer.  I need seasons again.

These are my thoughts as I think of Picture Day...my last Picture Day.  The times they are a'changin' again.  I expect that is a very good thing.

The Ransom of Red Chief by O. Henry

Today I've been thinking about my favorite short stories.  Many come to mind, of course, but perhaps my very favorite of all was written in 1910 and is still relevant today.  It is The Ransom of Red Chief by O. Henry.  If you click the link, you can read it.  I'm betting you will like it too.  😃

When I first read this story, I had three little boys that typically behaved pretty much like Red Chief, so this story made me laugh out loud the first time I read it.

Okay.  I admit.  I still laugh out loud when I read it.

I'm afraid Red Chief also reminds me a little bit of my brother, Gene, who could absolutely behave just like that at times and who, like Red Chief, was a red-head.  I miss Gene.  

This is a story that should be re-read and re-read anytime you're feeling like you're having a bad day.  Try it.  You'll see.  It will make you feel better about your day because there is no way your day could possibly be worse than poor Bill's.  😉

Too funny!

Enjoy!

What to Expect When You Lose Someone You Love: Stages of Grief

Over the weekend a childhood friend and neighbor passed away, and two of my friends (sisters) lost their mother, who presently lived only about three blocks away from me.

I've been thinking about grief for a few days now, so I thought I'd share the typical stages one must go through to recover from the loss of a loved one.

Some people believe there are five stages of grief:

1. Denial
2. Anger
3. Bargaining
4. Depression
5. Acceptance

But I believe the seven stages of grief  model is more realistic:

But even with seven stages, it is never that simple or that easy.  Grief doesn't follow a set path, and it is different for everyone who experiences it.  It is also different for you every time you experience it depending on the circumstances, but since love never dies, knowing the stages can be helpful, I think.

It is also important to note that acceptance does NOT equal forgetting your loved one.  Acceptance also does NOT fill the hole in your life that now exists.  Acceptance merely allows you to learn to live with your loss, so that your life can return to at least a  semblance of normality, and you can enjoy life (at least most days) again.

You should also know that as you work your way through your grief, you will flip-flop back and forth between the stages a whole lot.  

A better representation of grief probably looks more like this:

Grief is a messy process.  Some people get stuck in one place for years and years, and need professional help to move forward.  Some actually never seek the help and stay stuck forever, but it is my hope that this does not happen to any of my readers.  

Grief touches the lives of everyone.  Please know you are not alone.  Reach out to your friends and family in your time of grief.  You may be pleasantly surprised at the comfort they can give you. 

I've often wished I had a magic wand to wipe away the grief of those that I love, or at least some magic words of comfort that will help, but I find I seldom know what to say in the face of grief, and I often feel I've said the totally wrong thing, but that is life as well.  

All I can do is love, support, and listen to them the best I can, and keep them in my thoughts and prayers.  I hope that is enough.

My Mama's Gift to Me: A True Story

When I was ten and a half months old my Mama bought me a book of Bible stories called, Golden Treasury of Bible Stories, and then she did something remarkable.  She read them to me.  She read them to me so much that I memorized most of them and could recite them before I started school.

The book was the Golden Treasury of Bible Stories.  It contained Bible stories and poems that were easy for a child to understand.

And it had glorious and beautiful pictures.

My mother inscribed it for me.

The book contained nearly 500 pages of stories and the Table of Contents was laid out in a way that it was easy to find a story you wanted to read.

But, perhaps, the best thing I found about the book, as I took it off my shelf today was not the well-read and well-loved stories, but the things Mama had hidden inside its pages.

I found the card where Mama had given the book to me for my birthday one year after I had become a mother.  She was so excited about giving it to me to read to my first son that she couldn't wait for my actual birthday but gave it to me early instead.

Mama also had tucked away in the pages a newspaper clipping of our neighbor's daughter, Linda Roberts, when Linda was in high school back in the 1960s.  Mama always loved the Roberts family.

I also found an old Valentine that I made for Mama when I was little.  Yes.  I have always loved dogs.  Probably since before I was actually born.

The last thing I found in the book today tells you exactly why I ended up working in education nearly all my adult life.  This is the message my Mama instilled in me from the time I was a baby.  It appears here in the form of a bookmark from National Library Week, April 12-18, 1964, but Mama lived this message.  She read to me often during my formative years, and she read the newspaper and books in front of me every single day.  

It is a magical message to send to a child.  It has the power to turn a life of poverty into the American dream.  Never stop reading.  Never stop learning.  

This is the gift my Mama gave to me.

To end today's post, here is one of the stories from my Treasury of Bible Stories book.  Enjoy!

Let America Be America Again by Langston Hughes

Lately I've been thinking about our upcoming Presidential election.  I find myself totally dissatisfied with BOTH candidates, and in fear of what is to come post-election. 

Then this poem came to mind.  It was written by Langston Hughes in 1935 and first published in the July 1936 issue of Esquire Magazine when America was still in the throes of the Great Depression.

At the time, the Presidential election seemed all important.  America needed a President to bring the country back from the brink of despair and ruin.  The Great Depression was in its 8th year. Incumbent Democrat, Franklin D. Roosevelt faced Republican and Governor of Kansas, Alf Landon for that position, November 3, 1936.

When the poem was published, no one knew the outcome of that election, much like our situation today.  

I thought about reading this poem to you, but Abena Koomson performs it much more powerfully than me, so I'm including her performance instead. Enjoy!



Let America Be America Again by Langston Hughes

Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.

(America never was America to me.)

Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed--
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above.

(It never was America to me.)

O, let my land be a land where Liberty
Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
But opportunity is real, and life is free,
Equality is in the air we breathe.

(There's never been equality for me,
Nor freedom in this "homeland of the free.")

Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?
And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?

I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,
I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars.
I am the red man driven from the land,
I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek--
And finding only the same old stupid plan
Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.

I am the young man, full of strength and hope,
Tangled in that ancient endless chain
Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!
Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!
Of work the men! Of take the pay!
Of owning everything for one's own greed!

I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.
I am the worker sold to the machine.
I am the Negro, servant to you all.
I am the people, humble, hungry, mean--
Hungry yet today despite the dream.
Beaten yet today--O, Pioneers!
I am the man who never got ahead,
The poorest worker bartered through the years.

Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream
In the Old World while still a serf of kings,
Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,
That even yet its mighty daring sings
In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned
That's made America the land it has become.
O, I'm the man who sailed those early seas
In search of what I meant to be my home--
For I'm the one who left dark Ireland's shore,
And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea,
And torn from Black Africa's strand I came
To build a "homeland of the free."

The free?

Who said the free? Not me?
Surely not me? The millions on relief today?
The millions shot down when we strike?
The millions who have nothing for our pay?
For all the dreams we've dreamed
And all the songs we've sung
And all the hopes we've held
And all the flags we've hung,
The millions who have nothing for our pay--
Except the dream that's almost dead today.

O, let America be America again--
The land that never has been yet--
And yet must be--the land where every man is free.
The land that's mine--the poor man's, Indian's, Negro's, ME--
Who made America,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.

Sure, call me any ugly name you choose--
The steel of freedom does not stain.
From those who live like leeches on the people's lives,
We must take back our land again,
America!

O, yes,
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath--
America will be!

Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,
The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
We, the people, must redeem
The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.
The mountains and the endless plain--
All, all the stretch of these great green states--
And make America again!

Just Some Questions to Make You Think Today

If you were to be given another life after this one, what are your top five things you'd like to change for that new life?  

Mine are:

1. I'd like to be more patient from the get go.  I never want to have to learn patience again.  It takes way too long.  😉
2. I'd like to be born to parents who were madly in love with one another, in their 20s and healthy, and would both live to see me grow up.  It would be nice if both of them had all the good qualities of this life's parents without any of the bad.  I know...I know....
3. I'd give my child-self a healthier self-esteem, if I could, so all the hard lumps of childhood wouldn't be so damaging.
4. I'd be less afraid to fail and more eager to try new things.
5. I'd like to only have relationships with people who never lie to me or lie to other people about me.

Where would you want to spend this new life?  

• Wherever I am loved for just being ME.  Not for my body.  Not for what I can do to help others, but for myself.  Just me.  But hopefully that place would be safe and temperate, with enough food, water, shelter, and space to make me happy.

Are there any people from this life that you would like to spend more time with in the next life?

• Yes.  I admit there are a good many I'd like to see again, but there are also many I hope I never see again as well.

If you died today, and were given the opportunity to cross over to Heaven or come back to earth for a few more years, which would you choose?  Why?

• This is a difficult question for me, as I hate wearing out my welcome.  I don't want to be a burden to anyone in my later years, and those years are fast approaching.  Still...I have to think of my good dogs.  I wouldn't want to leave them.  They wouldn't understand, so I might come back for them.  My family is fine without me now.  It is doubtful that their lives would change very much if I were gone, but my dogs would miss me.  They love me and wait faithfully for me to come home everyday.  They worry about me when I am late.

If you chose to come back to your present life, would you make any major changes?

• Yes.  If I could, I would retire today and move away from the heat and humidity that is Charleston, SC.  I never liked the weather here.  Truly, I've never been a beach person.  I prefer mountains.  Always have.  I moved to Charleston to be near my eldest brother.  Not because I like the weather.

 I've been thinking about things like this lately.  How about you?  How would you answer these questions?  


Something to think about. 

NOTE: All my answers may be different tomorrow.  It is a woman's prerogative to change her mind!  😉

Rev. Jim Wells and Rock Springs Baptist Church: A True Story

Today I'm still thinking about churches.

In the small town where I was born and raised, most of the churches were Baptist, as were my parents.  I was raised Baptist and brought my sons up the same.  It was not until I was in my 50s that I found the church that spoke to my true beliefs, the French Huguenot Church in lovely Charleston, South Carolina.  My ancestors were French Huguenots.  I guess their beliefs clung to my family and somehow got passed down to me, but it is true that I have spent the majority of my life in Baptist churches.

Today's post is about one of those churches and a pastor who served there.

Rock Springs Baptist Church is the church where I raised my three sons.  They were all three baptized there.  My sons and I attended church services regularly, and I taught an adult Sunday School class there for many years.  During those years the church had several pastors, but today I'm remembering the Reverend Jim Wells.

Preacher Wells' story is a somewhat unique one.  You don't meet people like Jim and his lovely wife, Lydia, everyday.  They were very special people, and I am blessed to have known them. 

When Jim and Lydia were first married, he was an alcoholic, the very worst type of alcoholic.  He would stay out drinking to all hours of the night pretty much every night and come home only when he ran out of money. Lydia would feed him and clean him up only to have him go out and do it all again the next night.  Jim would spend the grocery money on booze...the rent money...whatever money he could find. 

Now Lydia was a devout Christian.  She never gave up on Jim.  She prayed for him each and every one of those days and nights. She never asked for much of Jim in return for her loving kindness.  The only thing she would insist upon was that Jim drive her to church every Sunday.

No.  Jim wouldn't actually go inside the church, but he did drive her to the services and he picked her up when they were over, oftentimes sipping his whiskey in the car while he waited for the last song to end.

Then one day all that changed. 

Jim died. 

Jim had a major heart attack and actually died.  He was dead for several minutes.  While they were reviving his body, Jim's soul was visiting the river, Jordan.

Jim said he suddenly found himself standing on the banks of the river, Jordan, and a voice said, "Jim, I want you to clean up your life.  I want you to become a preacher.  Accept my plan for your life, and I will send you back.  Deny it and you will cross over this river never to return."

Well, Jim thought about that a few minutes.  He thought about his lovely wife, Lydia, and how he would miss her.  He thought to himself, "I can't do this.  I'm the worst of sinners.  Who would listen to me preaching?" but he didn't argue out loud with the voice.

Time seemed to stand still while he made his decision.

Suddenly, he found himself back in his body, and from that day forward, he was determined to be the best preacher he could be.  He stopped drinking.  He started helping others.  He and Lydia started taking in foster children and did the best they could to give them a good home during their stay with them.  They even adopted two special needs foster children and gave them a true home.

Eventually this path led Jim and Lydia to Rock Springs Baptist Church to bless us, the members there, with their message.  We were truly blessed!

Then one late summer Sunday in 1982 Jim told us about the upcoming revival.  He was so excited!  The revival was scheduled for every weeknight during the last week of August that year.  Summer was almost over, and Jim said it was the perfect time for revival.  He talked of nothing else.  Homecoming was on his mind and he spoke of the great Homecoming we will all have one day.

It was August 26, 1982.  My eldest son, Dave, was attending a friend's birthday party that night, so I didn't make it to church, and I'm really glad I missed that particular service.

They said Jim was preaching the most moving sermon of his career when his face changed.  He clutched his chest and fell.  Forever silent. With the whole congregation sitting in stunned disbelief. 

One of the nurses attending the service was the first to reach him.  Others called an ambulance.  They did everything in their power to revive him, but Jim had crossed that river this time.  God had called him home.

Life, however, went on in our little church on the hilltop.  We mourned Jim, and Lydia moved away, as we needed the parsonage for our next pastor and his family.   The brilliance of Autumn turned to the starkness of winter and then to spring's rebirth.  The church's little children grew and new generations took their place in the pews. 

Such is life.

But I'm remembering Jim and his message today.  I'm hoping eternal life on the other side of that river suits him just fine. 

Jim's beloved Lydia joined him the day after Christmas 2010.  I'm betting the reunion was joyful!

Yes.  I'm remembering Jim and Lydia today, and I'm hoping your lives have been touched by people like them.  All who knew them couldn't help but love them, and, as I'm thinking of them today, I'm reminded to strive to be more like them.  Loving, faithful, honest, and kind...a person worthy of being remembered.

That is my wish for you too this day. May you find blessings where you least expect them.  😇

Rock Springs Baptist Church - near Earl, North Carolina