1962 My Father's Wake

Someone recently asked if I remembered when they used to bring deceased family members home for visitation before the funeral.

Yes. I remember.

They brought my Daddy home in August 1962. No air conditioning back then. It was stifling hot. The smell of all the flowers was sickening sweet. 

Family came from all over. I had never met some of them before. They took turns sitting up all night with Daddy's body and gossiping about other family members who weren't there yet. 

Daddy died on Mama's birthday. People kept reminding Mama of that fact causing more fits of wailing and tears. 

My stomach hurt. 

It was like that for a week at least. We were waiting on my brothers to come home from halfway around the world. They finally arrived in their crisp white sailor suits and we had the funeral at Hopewell Baptist Church in Blacksburg.

It was a sea of black hats and grim ladies waving those paper Shufford and Hatcher fans. 

My Grandma sat stoney faced fiddling with a little lace handkerchief. She had cried so many tears that they all seemed to have dried up that afternoon as she prayed and grieved the loss of her firstborn son.

Her face still haunts me. Everytime I hear the word despair, I think of Grandma's face that day. Sad is not a strong enough word.

Shufford Hatcher shuffled the family into black limousines after the funeral. My first grade teacher patted my shoulder through the window and told me she loved me. I stared at her blankly not knowing what to say.

The limos took us to the fairly new Frederick Memorial Gardens graveyard in Gaffney and we all gathered at the grave. I was sitting in a chair beside Mama near the preacher. Everyone felt sorry for Mama. She was a young widow. Still in her 40s back then. 

I have no memory of leaving the graveyard that day. A part of me still lies there. 

I was seven years old. My younger sister has no memory of our father, but I remember.

That day was the last time all my siblings ever gathered together in one place. There were six of us then. Now there are three.

Wakes fell out of fashion later in the 1960s. People stopped bringing their loved ones home. I'm okay with that. I think it is best for the children to not have to live through a parent's wake with the body present.

Yes. I remember when Shufford Hatcher was the only white funeral home and people used to take their loved ones back home for visitation. I've tried and tried to forget, but I still remember.

My Front Door - Before and After

As most of you know by now, I plan to retire and move closer to family come July 2017, so I am in the process of doing some painting before I put my house on the market to sell. 

This weekend I finished painting my front door.  It was painted "Charleston Green" (aka: black) previously, but I decided to paint it red instead.  Now that it is done, I wish I had done it years ago.  It looks so good and changes the whole mood of the house when you see it from outside.  I just love it!

Here are before and after photos.  As you can see, the door was dirty and faded and in dire need of painting.  I've painted the inside of my house a few times since I purchased the house 12  years ago, but I hadn't painted the front door.

What do you think?  Do you like the red???

I think it is fitting that I finished painting the door red during the Easter season.  Red doors have significance, you know.  The first recorded red doors were written about in the Bible (Exodus 12).  The doors were red because they were covered in lamb's blood for Passover.  After that red doors signified protection, which is a very good thing.  

Here are more beliefs about red doors:

• Protection
• Good Luck
• Mortgage Free (Scottish tradition - sadly NOT true in my case)
• Welcome
• Refuge
• Energy

To read the background behind these beliefs, click HERE.

In Ireland doors are painted red to ward off ghosts and evil spirits.  

The Chinese paint their doors red to invite good luck and happiness into the house.

Church doors are painted red to remind us of how Jesus Christ shed his blood for us and to let us know we are entering a place free from evil.

Me?  I hope all those things are true, but I really just like the color.  I'll enjoy seeing it everyday until I move, and hopefully after I move I'll have a new and beautiful red door to pass through everyday!

Happy St Patrick's Day!!

St Patrick's Day is not really supposed to be about leprechauns and green beer.  St Patrick was a real person.  He lived during the 5th century and was the Patron Saint of Ireland. He died March 17th.

Instead of writing his story for you, here are two short videos from the History Channel that explain it better than I could.  Enjoy!




Now, one last thing before I go.  I hope you're wearing green today, or I will pinch you!!!  -evil laughter-  Do you know why??

Well, if any of you have Irish friends and/or relatives, you know that the Irish love a good tale, especially if that tale is about giants or the wee people.  So there is a story about why I must pinch you today if you are not wearing green.  

 It has to do with leprechauns, of course.

The story goes that leprechauns LOVE to pinch people.  All those bruises you find on your body that you have no idea where they came from?? Yep. You guessed it.  Those wily leprechauns pinched you in your sleep!  

Now.  Many people don't know that leprechauns are color blind.  Oh, not the human kind of color blind that you're thinking about, but the leprechaun kind of color blind.  Leprechauns can not see humans if they are wearing green!  Therefore, anytime you wear green, the leprechauns can not see you and won't pinch you.

However, if you are NOT wearing green on St Patrick's Day, you will definitely be pinched, as everyone is an honorary leprechaun on St Patrick's Day!  This makes us all duty bound to pinch you unless you have green clothes or green eyes, which makes you always invisible to leprechauns, of course.  

Sorry.  Being green with envy will not work.  I'll pinch you anyway.  -impish grin-

Have fun today!  Be safe. 

Beware the Ides of March

Yesterday was the Ides of March (March 15th), and I meant to post this then, but as is fitting of a day that is synonymous with conspiracy and betrayal, I kept getting side-tracked.  So...I've decided to post this today.

Nowadays I often find myself a day late and a dollar short, so this makes perfect sense to me.

The Ides of March, as you may recall, was the day in 44 BC that Julius Caesar was assassinated by Brutus and about 60 other conspirators whom he considered friends and confidants.  A soothsayer had predicted this event, but Julius Caesar was a non-believer.  I suspect he believes the soothsayer now.

William Shakespeare immortalized this event in his play, Julius Caesar, making the quotes, "Beware the Ides of March!" and "Et tu Brute?" famous.  Hollywood has made movies about it.  Teachers have taught it.  News people have reported it.  You have probably quoted it yourself. 

This is how the Ides of March eventually worked its way into our society as a day of doom, which yesterday certainly proved correct for me in some ways:  

• Too much to do and not enough time to finish anything.  
• Too much traffic and other frustrations which has lead to yesterday's tasks having to be redone today in some instances.  

Wasted hours instead of a wasted life.  I'll take it.
 
With all the political hoo ha going on in our nation today, I can't help but think of Julius Caesar's plight on that fated Ides of March.  

Julius Caesar was, of course, a Roman politician, but also a military General.  Some say he remains the greatest military commander in all of history.  He amassed great power in Rome and abroad, and in 44 BC he was becoming a tyrant. 

Everyone noticed it.  His closest allies watched as he craved more and more power. Enough was never enough. 

Caesar, as all tyrants do, eventually stepped on the wrong toes, and the tide turned against him.  There was civil war.  His own senators are the ones who assassinated him.

The rest is history.

We should always study history.  Lest we forget and repeat the same patterns.

Some modern day "soothsayers" and political historians are warning us that some of the circumstances of Julius Caesar's life are happening in these United States today.  I find this extremely disturbing, and I hope those in political power at this time in history are paying attention and reading their history books.

We should all at least know Julius Caesar's true life story.  He led the life of fantasy including great military victories, intrigue, mystery, and even a dalliance with Egypt's famous Cleopatra herself. 

To read a biography of his life click HERE.  This book is FREE TODAY, March 16, 2017, for your Kindle.  Hurry.  FREE is a good price! 

Or if you prefer movies, click HERE.

Enjoy.

A Forgotten Queen and Humanity

Today, once again, I'm reminded that humans are merely large insects in the scheme of things.  Crawling all over this planet eating everything they can, while they can.

Some of us are butterflies and bees.  Pollinating and helping the planet.  Some of us...all too many of us...are termites and roaches and Palmetto bugs.  Hell bent on destroying our planet.

Are we here to take take take until all the Earth's resources are depleted?  Or are we  here to preserve our planet and keep it safe for future generations?  What do you think the Earth will do if we push Mother Nature too far?  Do you think there will be a good end to the human race if we ruin our air and water so a few rich people can get richer?

You can NOT eat money.  If our food and water and air become toxic, we will die.

We will die.

Believe that.

A few years ago, when I was writing my poetry book, Alice's Verse, I wrote this poem.  It is on page 9 of the book:

---

Kings of Men and Wisdom

All Kings of men are but animated dust
Wandering Earth while they may
Conquering what they can

But all their power is like water on a griddle
As are their days
...soon evaporated

True power lives in legend
Twisting on the tongues of children
Whispered around campfires
Shouted in the headphones
...of modern technology

History is only that which is written
Truth can seldom be proven
Wisdom lies in faith....

---

This still rings true to me.

Today I came across an article about Fawzia Faud (1921-2013), Princess of Iran and Queen of Eqypt, at different points in her lifetime.  She was a striking beauty, and she led a very interesting life.  It was a riches to rags to riches to rags kind of life, as she lost pretty much all she held dear several times only to reinvent herself again. 

Her quotes that I read today that have stuck with me are:

“Twice in my life, I lost the crown. Once I was the queen of Iran, and once I was the princess here (Egypt).” She smiled. “It’s all gone now. It doesn’t matter.”

“When you visit the tombs of kings and queens, you see they leave everything behind,” she said, “even the crowns.”

If you'd like to read more of her story, click HERE.  Fascinating.

Happy Groundhog Day!

Punxsutawney Phil Sees Shadow

Predicts Six More Weeks of Winter

Poor Punxsutawney Phil.  They woke him up and hurt his eyes with the sunshine casting his shadow, and he was not finished sleeping.  Then they let thousands of people be photographed individually with His Seer of Seer Rodentness.  

Poor thing.  I hope he's back to napping by the time you read this.

Today, here in Charleston, it is a lovely sunshiny day.  Beautiful and fairly cool in the 60s outside right now, but 95 degrees in my office because there are no working thermostats in this building, but that is another story.

I sincerely can NOT wait to retire where I hope to spend the rest of my entire life in a place with working thermostats, so that I always know what the weather will be INSIDE the building I am in.  That is my hope.  I also hope to spend the rest of my life in buildings where bathrooms are NOT a hike away from my room or office.

Ah...it is a daydreaming kind of day today for sure.

Groundhog Day has been a marker of my life for the past 22 years.  I feel somehow that today releases me from that curse.  I feel lighter somehow and hopeful that my next (and most likely last) 22 years will be more joyful and populated with much happier days.  

That is my wish.  That is my hope.  

Personally, I wouldn't mind seeing at least a few more days of winter this year.  I know we've already had two days of winter here in lovely Charleston, SC, but we used to get at least two weeks of winter.  I'd like that.  I miss seasons most of all.

But my azaleas are already blooming and my grass is greening and all my spring flowers are raising their little heads.  I suspect HOT HOT HOT weather will arrive all too soon here.

I can NOT wait to move, so I can breathe better, see more of my family, and generally be a happier person.  I look forward to the later part of 2017 with anticipation and hope!  

Happy Groundhog's Day everyone! 

Happy Birthday to My Daddy in Heaven!

Today would have been my father's 116th birthday if he were still alive.  He was born December 9, 1900.

I always remember Daddy on his birthday.

Daddy used to tell me stories of how things were when he was just a boy.  I didn't believe half of them at the time because I just couldn't imagine things like that.  Later in life I realized that he was telling me the truth.

Daddy said when he was little all the roads in Blacksburg, SC were dirt roads.  Just imagine!!  

The first time Daddy told me this we were standing on a hill looking at the two huge dirt roads that cut off the access of our favorite route to Shelby, NC.  Two HUGE dirt roads as far as the eye could see.  

Those dirt roads became Interstate 85 that runs from Charlotte to Atlanta and beyond on both sides of those cities, but at that time in my life I didn't understand the history I was witnessing.  I didn't understand what those dirt roads would bring. I had never been to a big city.  I had never really seen much traffic.

When I was a little girl, Independence Blvd in Charlotte was just a regular two lane street that went through neighborhoods.  I'm guessing if I said that to my granddaughters they'd probably not be able to picture it, like I couldn't picture Blacksburg with only dirt streets.

We live history every day, and most of the time we just don't pay attention, or we don't realize we're witnessing something important.  Hindsight is much clearer than the present. 

My Daddy would be amazed to see Charlotte and Rock Hill today.  

I wish he had lived to see computers.  He would have LOVED computers, and I'm betting he would have been able to fix them with no problems at all.  Daddy could fix anything electronic.  His mind worked that way.  People would marvel at how he understood things like that.  I tended to take it for granted.  Daddy was just like that.

Daddy was the eldest of ten children.  Can you imagine the responsibility that was placed on him as he was growing up?  It boggles the mind to think about it, but I'm sure Daddy took it all in stride.  He was like that too.

Yes.  I'm remembering my Daddy today.  I sure hope he's having a Happy Birthday up in heaven with all his siblings right now!  They are all there with him.  All ten.  I miss them and think of them often.  

Life is like that.  Constantly changing.

Here is a photo of Daddy with his Mama and Daddy and an Aunt and half his siblings.  The other five siblings were not yet born when this photo was taken.  

Daddy is the boy standing beside his Mama behind Aunt Jeanette and Aunt Paulene.  I love this picture.  I never met either of my grandfathers as they both died before I was born, but I can see that I look like this grandfather.  I would have liked to have known him.

I wonder which of Daddy's birthdays was next when this photo was taken?  I wonder....

All these people are in heaven now celebrating today with my Daddy.  It comforts me to think of him surrounded by all the people he loved so much.

NOTE FOR MY GRANDDAUGHTERS: The lady in the dark skirt and white blouse is MY Grandma Alice.

Flood, Hurricane, Fire - Earthquake?

The past couple of years have brought one weather disaster after another.  

• Record high temperatures.  
• 1000 year flood.  
• Hurricane Matthew, and 
• fires in the Appalachian Mountains so large that the smoke came all the way to Charleston, South Carolina.

This leads me to ask, "What next?"

I fear an earthquake.

We've already had wind, water, and fire.  Earth would be next, I think.

Many people don't know that there is a major earthquake fault line on the East coast.  Most people only think of the "San Andreas Fault" on the West coast if they hear "earthquake fault," but the "Woodstock Fault" is located on the East Coast.

On August 31, 1886, the most destructive earthquake ever to hit the east coast, hit Charleston, South Carolina.  The ground rose and fell causing major property damage and claiming 110 lives.  Some say the quake and its aftershocks were felt as far away as Boston and Chicago.  Geologists estimate that the earthquake would have been around 7.7 on the Richter Scale.

The earthquake caused about $5,500,000.00 worth of damage in 1886.

$5,500,000.00 in 1886 → $133,699,250.72 in 2016

Pretty much every building in the city was damaged.  Over 14,000 chimneys fell.  Whole buildings fell.  So many windows were broken. Masonry destroyed.  Foundations ruined.

They used "earthquake bolts" to pull the structures back upright and support them after that earthquake.  Any building you see in Charleston, SC with real earthquake bolts dates back prior to the 1886 earthquake.  I say "real" because some modern buildings have "fake" earthquake bolts installed to better blend in with the cityscape.

Now, the old sayin' goes, Charleston, SC only gets a big earthquake like that once every 100 years.

Hmm...1886?  2016?  Seems we are 30 years overdue.  Not good.

Let's hope the elements have finished with us for awhile and there will be no earthquake, no more floods, no more hurricanes, and no more fires.  Let's hope the next few years bring us brighter, happier and more prosperous days!

Still...I wonder....

Remembering the Day John F. Kennedy Died

It was November 22, 1963, a cold grey day in Blacksburg, South Carolina.  I was in the third grade, and I had a broken right arm.  The cast was covered in newly learned and carefully formed cursive writing, as all my third grade friends had signed it.

That particular day was definitely NOT a normal day.   My arm was aching and the teachers were crying and wouldn't tell us why.

Teachers never cry.

I was sitting in my little wooden desk near the radiators, which meant that my left side was pretty much on fire and my right side was ice.  The ceilings were at least 12 feet in our old grammar school and most of the heat on the coldest of days hovered above our heads.

Mrs. Jones was my teacher that year.  She had us sit in ABC order, which meant I would be in the front of the class on one side or the other, as my last name was Batchelor.  That year Mrs. Jones started the ABC seating near the radiators underneath the windows near her desk, so that is where I sat.

The windows in that room were tall.  At least three times as tall as my third grade self, I'd say.  You could see the playground outside with a tall chain link fence. Sidewalks, trees, the street, and old wooden neighborhood houses were on the other side of the fence.

The floors in the classroom were old hardwood, polished to a sheen by the janitor, who was a very nice older man.  He'd throw this oily looking sawdust stuff down and then sweep it up leaving the floor shiny and clean.  I can still smell it.

Outside the classroom door was a hallway that ran the length of the building with classrooms on either side.  When an adult visitor or teacher walked down the hall during class time, you could hear their footsteps echo as they approached.

Someone was coming.

Mrs. Moss, a first grade teacher, her face red and grave, opened the door and asked to see her son.  John Edward stepped out of the classroom to see what his mother wanted.  When he came back inside, he said, "It is a sad day for America," and shook his head as if in grief.  He would not tell us what had happened.  He just kept repeating, "It is a sad day for America."

A few minutes later we were told that school was over for the day.  Our parents would be coming for us, but my mother was at work, so I had to just walk home alone, which was usually what I did everyday.  

I still did not know what happened to make the teachers cry,  I was worried and curious, and on my way out John Edward smirked at me with that "I know something you don't know," look on his face. I hit him with my cast and turned my back on him as I left the school and headed home.  I knew he wouldn't even feel it underneath his heavy coat, but I did it anyway.  Hitting him should have made me feel a little better, but it mainly just made my arm hurt worse.

The babysitter was at my house taking care of my younger sister, Debbie, when I got home.  She was glued to the television with tears running down her face.  I still didn't totally understand why everyone was so upset, as I was young and presidents didn't mean that much to me at the time.  I watched and listened to the news on our little black and white television. 

President Kennedy was dead.  Shot in the head in Texas as he was riding in a parade.

The next few days were full of news of his funeral and theories about who did it.  I clearly remember his little son saluting his father's casket.  I felt so bad for him.  I had just lost my own father a year before.  I knew how that little boy felt.  Losing a father is a terrible thing.

It is funny what the mind chooses to remember.  I remember this day so clearly.  A 53 year old day.  Frozen in time in my mind.

If you were alive at that time, I bet you remember it too.  It was not the kind of day to be forgotten.

John Kennedy, Jr. salutes his father's casket, November 1963.

Remembering Emma Kelly: A True Story

Back in 2000 I had the great honor and pleasure of meeting the famous pianist and singer, Emma Kelly in Savannah, Georgia.

My apologies for the photo resolution.  I really need to find the original and re-scan it, but here I am with the lovely and talented, Emma Kelly, the Lady of 6000 Songs.  

I had seen her in concert with the Charleston Symphony Orchestra in Charleston, SC once before, but I didn't get to meet her that night.  I was thrilled to meet her this night!  She is one of my all time favorite musicians.  I just love her.

Emma Kelly gained nationwide fame when John Berendt published his book, Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, back in 1994.  The book was full of Savannah, GA stories and characters and Emma Kelly was among them.  Then later in 1997, Clint Eastwood made a movie of the book. Emma played herself in the movie.  

She was and is unforgettable.  A finer lady never lived.  

Emma was the mother of 10 children.  She earned her living by playing the piano and singing, oftentimes having to drive long distances to get to her next gig.  She was a devout Christian, who was born in 1918 and died in 2001.

I own two of her CDs and listen to them often.  The last time I was in North Carolina visiting two of my sons and my granddaughters, I had Emma's music playing in the car and my sons heard her.  My son, Dave said, "Mama who is that singing?  She sounds like a female Louis Armstrong."  

Dave was originally a music performance major at North Carolina School of the Arts in Winston Salem, NC.  He was a jazz trombonist.  Him saying someone sounds like a female Louis Armstrong is high praise indeed. 

The night the picture above was taken, Emma was playing in a little jazz bar called Hard Hearted Hannah's, which was upstairs in the Pirates' House restaurant in Savannah, and... 

It was my 45th birthday!! 

A friend took me to Savannah for dinner at the Pirates' House that night, and then we went upstairs to hear Emma Kelly play and sing.  When she found out it was my 45th birthday, she came over and joined us for awhile.  We talked and laughed and had the BEST time.  She played and sang all my favorite songs, and honestly, it was one of the most memorable and wonderful birthdays of my life.  

About six months later, in January 2001, I heard the news.  Emma Kelly, the Lady of 6000 Songs, had passed away in her home.  She was 82. Thinking of her passing still makes me sad after all these years.  

I feel so very blessed to have had the opportunity to meet her.  It is so seldom we get to sit and chat with celebrities that we admire.  What a wonderful birthday gift!  A day and night to remember.... 

For more information about Emma Kelly, click HERE to read a 1998 tribute to her.  Her obituary is found HERE.

Pullman, Illinois: A True Story

Some of you know that I love Chicago and have visited there many times over the years.  When I go, I'm usually working, but if time permits, on the last day before my plane leaves for home, I like to take a Greeter Tour.

Greeter Tours are FREE and awesome!  For more information about Chicago's Greeter Tours, click HERE.

On one such Greeter Tour I visited historic Pullman, IL, and found the history absolutely fascinating!  I took a lot of photos while I was there.  If you would like to see all the photos from my Pullman, IL tour, please click HERE. 

Pullman, IL today is an historic site.  Go HERE for more information or to plan your own visit.

I had no idea this town even existed!  Fascinating.

Now, let's talk a minute about the history of Pullman, Illinois.  Pullman was built to be similar to a southern "mill town" in that the town was owned and operated by the industry that was located there, which was a factory that built the luxurious Pullman railroad cars. 

The factory, the houses, well, basically everything in Pullman was built and owned and operated by the CEO and man in charge,  George M. Pullman.  

Everyone thought it was GREAT!  Until it wasn't.

Trying to exert too much control over your workers never ends well, and it didn't end well for Pullman either.

Oh...the town "looked" prosperous and healthy, but the unrest grew and grew as Mr. Pullman tightened his grip and tried to squeeze more and more work for less and less pay from his employees.  Never never never a good combination

Today though, Pullman looks lovely and quaint.

This is a mural on a wall near the town museum in Pullman, IL.

Photo in the Pullman Museum.
The Pullman Free School basically educated the worker's children in skills they would need to work in the Pullman factory.

Photos in the Pullman Museum. 
Pictured left: The Pullman Free School.  Pictured right: George Pullman

Left: Me!  Right: My Chicago Greeter Tour Guide

The Hotel Florence, Pullman, IL

Lake Vista and Illinois Central Railroad Depot as it was near the turn of the 20th Century

Hotel Florence, Pullman, IL

Yes.  There is a LOT to look at in Pullman.

Hotel Florence, pictured above, was named for George Pullman's favorite daughter. It first opened in November 1881 and still sits today an easy walk from the tree lined streets of neat brick homes.

Pullman was originally comprised of 1000 beautiful brick homes built by Pullman's employees in just less than four years time from 1881 to 1884.  The town was touted as an urban utopia, and, on the surface, it sure looked like that was true.  The homes were large and beautiful with both front and back yards, water and gas, and  access to sanitary facilities. The community spaces in town had parks and other green spaces to enjoy.  The town even picked the garbage  up once a day.  The rent for your home was taken out of your salary before you received your pay, so everything worked well at first.

At first.

But it only took ten years for that urban utopia cream to sour, and today Pullman, Illinois is best remembered for the Pullman Strike of 1894.  You want to watch this video:


Still curious?  Me too.  That's why I'm including this video for you as well.  Enjoy and feel free to share!

Thanksgiving in the 1980s: A True Story

Back in the 1980s when I was younger and still raising my sons in Blacksburg, South Carolina, my family used to have Thanksgiving at my house.

Mama and my sisters and brothers in the area would come and bring their families.  Sometimes friends and cousins would come too.  I'd drag out my good china and we'd have a huge feast.  

There were dishes for days!!

A typical menu would be something like:

• Turkey
• Dressing (both fried and baked)
• Giblet gravy
• Regular gravy
• Mashed potatoes
• Rice
• Sweet potato casserole
• Green beans or green bean casserole
• Fried squash or fried okra (depending on the garden that year)
• Yellow squash casserole
• Garden salad
• Fruit salad with nuts from Mama's pecan trees
• Homemade cranberry sauce
• Homemade pickles
• Homemade biscuits
• Homemade cornbread
• Homemade pumpkin pie
• Homemade pecan pie
• Homemade fruit cake

Everyone would bring their favorite dishes.  We all had BIG gardens back then, so we had a LOT of food that needed to be eaten. 

I'd always do the turkey, mashed potatoes, rice, gravies, fruit salad, whatever was fried, fruit cake and pies.  Mama would make the biscuits and the dressing because nobody will ever be able to do those as good as my Mama.  My sister, Debbie, always made the casseroles and cranberry sauce.  My sister, Miniver, would bring whatever she had that was good to eat, and my brother, Howard, and his wife, Juliette, would do the same.  

We'd eat so much that we'd barely be able to move, and then the children would all go watch TV or play those old Atari video games while the adults cleaned up everything and washed the dishes.  

Our dogs and cats would feast on leftovers.  They'd be sooooo excited!

After the dishes were done, the adults would generally sit around the table in my formal dining room and gossip!  Both the men and the women.  We'd tell all the stories of our lives that year. We'd retell all the stories from our childhoods. We'd laugh and laugh and laugh. 

As the children grew older they would join us and contribute their own stories. 

Those were the best of times.  Those 1980s Thanksgivings.  

We had big curly permed hair and huge prescription eyeglasses.  The fashion was flashy, and the family was home.  

Remembering My WWII Veteran Friend, Hasell Barton: A True Story

Yesterday was Veteran's Day.  Veteran's Day is one of the holidays I have to work, so I didn't feel much like celebrating other than acknowledging how thankful I am for our Veterans on Facebook.  This morning, however, I have time to think, and I am remembering my dear WWII Veteran friend, Hasell Barton.  May he rest in peace.

About three years after I moved to Charleston, SC in 1995, I was out one weekend listening to the live piano music in the Lobby Lounge at the Charleston Place Hotel downtown, and someone introduced me to Hasell Barton.

Seating was limited in the lounge that night and I was taking up a whole table by myself, so Hasell invited me to sit with him and his friend, Tom.  They were such good company!  We talked and talked and ended up sitting together for live music many nights over the next decade or so.

Hasell was my mother's age and full of interesting stories.  He served in the Air Force in WWII, and spent most of his World War II years in France.  I remember how much Hasell enjoyed Veterans Day. 

On Veterans Day evenings Hasell would wear his WWII Air Force uniform downtown and people would buy him free drinks all night long. They'd slap him on the back and laugh and everyone would tell war stories. Oftentimes the more colorful stories were spoken in French with a wink and a whispered "mademoiselle" or a laughing "oh là là!" towards the end of the evening, and they'd all end up singing their favorite 1940s songs as the night grew old. 

We'd be at a big table full of men and women by then.  Such fun!  I loved hanging around Hasell on Veterans Day.  You'd meet the most interesting characters. 

Hasell lived down on Queen Street near the Footlight Players Theater in one of those big beautiful historic houses with his beloved cat. He did a lot of different types of work in his lifetime, but his soul was that of an artist.  He loved to draw and paint.  Two of his framed prints hang in my house today.  I love his art.

As Hasell grew older, he'd go to listen to live music at the Best Friends Lounge in the Mills House Hotel instead of in the Lobby Lounge at Charleston Place Hotel.  The Best Friends Lounge was much closer to his house and an easier walk for him.  They kept a table right up front reserved for him every night.  Many nights I joined him there and we had the best time listening to the music and talking about old times with old friends and new.

Yes.  We all miss Hasell.  By the time he reached his 90s, his health forced him to move to North Carolina closer to family who could care for him.  He passed away in 2011.  I will always remember him as he was in the photo below.  Standing in the old and wonderful Charleston Place Hotel Lobby Lounge with a smile on his face and a song in his heart.

Rest in peace, Hasell Barton.  I just know you celebrated Veterans Day up in Heaven last night. Jusqu'à ce que nous nous reverrons.

Hasell Barton in the old Lobby Lounge at the Charleston Place Hotel - Late 1990s

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Hasell Barton Obituary

1917 - 2011

Hasell W. Barton, 93, died on Monday, January 10, 2011 at Brighton Gardens, after several years of declining health. Funeral services will be held at Holy Trinity Episcopal Church in Greensboro at 11:00 a.m. on Thursday, January 13, 2011. Lunch will follow in the Haywood Duke Room at the church. A private burial will be held on Friday, January 14 at All Saints Episcopal Church, Pawleys Island, SC.

Born in Hartwell, GA, he was the son of Dr. David J. and Harriet C. Barton. He was a graduate of Anderson Boys High School and earned a diploma in accounting from LaSalle Institute of Chicago.

Hasell served in the U.S. Army Air Corps during World War II as an ordinance officer in the 409th Bomb Group in England, France, and Belgium, attaining the rank of Captain. At war's end, he became treasurer of C.M. Guest and Sons Construction Company in Anderson, SC, where he was active in civic and church affairs, including chair of the Red Cross chapter and Deacon and president of the Men's Bible Class at First Presbyterian Church. He was also an amateur radio enthusiast.

In 1961 the Barton family moved to Greensboro, NC, where Hasell became president of Romeo Guest Associates. In 1971 Hasell formed Barton Construction Company at Pawleys Island, SC, where he joined All Saints Episcopal Church. After being widowed in 1977, he divided his time between Pawleys Island and Charleston, SC. He retired to Charleston in 1987, joining St. Phillips Episcopal Church. In Charleston he was treasurer and a member of the board of directors of the Footlight Players community theater and a member of the French Society (l'Alliance Francaise) and the Saint Cecilia Society. He was a Rotary Club Paul Harris Fellow. His lifetime love of Charleston and knowledge of Charleston history resulted in his becoming a volunteer guide for tourists. He studied watercolor painting in Charleston and in France, and became an accomplished artist. Hasell moved to Brighton Gardens Assisted Living in Greensboro in August of 2009.

Hasell was predeceased by his wife Myra Ashley Barton in 1977. He is survived by son Jon Hasell Barton, Sr. (Jan) and daughters Jane Barton Stott (Drayton) and Betsy Barton Dunn (Russ), both of Greensboro, six grandchildren, and seven great-grandchildren.

Memorials contributions may be made to St. Phillips Episcopal Church, 142 Church St, Charleston, SC 29401 or to the Guilford County Animal Shelter 4525 W. Wendover Ave., Greensboro, NC 27409. 

RERUN: TOP TEN POSTS

Given that I have been in computer cloning H3!! for the past two days.  (I'll explain in another post.  I promise.)  I've decided to do a RERUN: TOP TEN POSTS post today. 

Did you miss any of these?

1. Booger Jim, Cherokee Falls, SC - A True Story (As Told to Me)
   Oct 23, 2016, 13 comments, 4436 views
2. My Original Huguenot Ancestors: A True Story
   Jun 20, 2016, 246 views
3. Remembering My Brother, Howard
   Jul 17, 2016, 1 comment, 220 views
4. Remembering My Brother, Howard: A True Story
   Aug 12, 2016, 2 comments, 217 views
5. Limestone College Ghost, Gaffney, South Carolina: A True Story
   Oct 20, 2016, 188 views
6. Ruby's 1927: A True Story
   Jun 13, 2016, 170 views
7. Where is the Gray Man?
   Oct 5, 2016, 151 views
8. Whig Hill Cemetery, Gaffney, South Carolina is Haunted: A True Story
   Oct 21, 2016, 135 views
9. Picture Day!
   Sep 15, 2016, 119 views
10. Thomas's Childhood: A True Story
    Jun 16, 2016, 115 views

It looks like you love the true stories!  I'll try to write more of them, as time goes by.  Enjoy!

Today is Election Day 2016. PLEASE VOTE!

Just a reminder today.  Please VOTE!!!

One Day Away From Election Day 2016 - Things to Remember

One more day until America's 2016 presidential election. 

We are to choose between a woman candidate and a businessman candidate.  No woman has ever been elected president in the history of these United States, and no man, who is without political or military leadership experience, has ever been elected president in the history of these United States.

No matter what happens tomorrow, it will definitely be recorded in the history books as one of the most unusual elections yet.

The past few years have been such a whiny time in history when it comes to politics.  I guess people need to blame someone for their woes. 

1. Can't find a job?  It's the president's fault.  
2. Not getting the government benefits you believe you deserve?  It's the president's fault.  
3. Paying more taxes than you think you should?  It's the president's fault.  
4. Gas prices too high?  It's the president's fault.
5. Teenage pregnancies up in your town? It's the president's fault.

I could go on and on. 

You do realize that none of those things are the president's fault.  Right?  You have to know that our forefathers in their wisdom created our government with three branches to act as checks and balances against one another, so no one branch can ever have too much power, and so NONE of the above statements can ever be totally true. 

You also need to realize that WE THE PEOPLE elect the president, so if that president does not live up to expectations, then it is really OUR OWN FAULT!!

Don't even start that argument in your head.  Please re-read the above, and then read it again until it sinks into your thinking.  WE THE PEOPLE are in charge of the government.  This is a democracy.

VOTE.  Encourage everyone you see to vote.  Run for office if you are politically inclined.  Otherwise always do the research.  Don't believe the media hype.  Do real research.  Read the old newspapers.  Talk to real people who know the candidates.  Ask them their stories.  Listen with an open mind. Make your decision based on data not on emotions, and vote your heart and mind.

We have allowed the media to play us against each other too long while we ignore the real issues and refuse to insist upon real change.  Corruption has slowly seeped into our government.  Lobbyists, big business, and other special interest groups have the ears of the senators, the congressmen, the president, and maybe even the Supreme Court justices (Heaven forbid!).

We have sat by blaming others (It was the Democrats!  It was the Republicans!) while the politicians voted themselves raises using our money, while the politicians borrowed money from our Social Security system, while Americans more and more have lost their jobs because businesses move overseas for cheap labor, while the middle-class shrinks to nothing and poverty runs rampant, while the rich get richer and the poor get poorer.

Where is the America of my youth??? What has happened to us???

As we go to the polls tomorrow, let's remember we are NOT Democrats or Republicans or Independents. WE ARE AMERICANS!!   Gender, race, religion, political party affiliation...all that is secondary.  We are Americans FIRST, and we need to remember that.  We need to support one another.  We need to listen to one another.

In the coming months after this election, let's at least try to remember to focus on how we can fix our problems instead of focusing on which political party is in the White House.  Let's stop blaming. Who is in the White House does not really matter as long as ALL political parties are represented in our House and Senate.  

WE ARE AMERICANS!  We need to stand UNITED!!  All of our voices need to be heard and often.  We all have good points.  There is emotion behind our choices.  There are reasons that need to be examined on both sides.  We need to work together.

This division among us that is glorified in our media is dangerous.  It is the stuff of Revolution. 

Wake up, America!  Wake up and VOTE.  Let your voice be heard.

That's my soapbox speech for today.  I am worried for our future right now.  Let's hope tomorrow changes my opinion. 

Booger Jim, Cherokee Falls, SC - A True Story (As Told to Me)

If you have ever lived anywhere near Cherokee Falls, South Carolina, you know about Booger Jim.  My Daddy, who was born in December 1900 and lived many years of his life in Cherokee Falls, said he saw Booger Jim the first time when he was about six years old.  He said Booger Jim was standing at the edge of the woods, taller than a normal man and black as soot.

Daddy ran home quick when he saw Booger Jim.  I don't much blame him.

There are all kinds of stories floating around about Booger Jim.  I've heard a few about Booger Jim living under the Cherokee Falls bridge, but I've never really known that to be true.  I did hear a truthful sounding tale of Booger Jim when I was small though.  That is the tale I will tell you now.  The woman who told me swears it is true.

First off, for those of you not fortunate enough to have been born in the Upstate of South Carolina, I'll tell you about Cherokee Falls.

No.  There is not an actual waterfall there that I've ever known, but the Broad River flows through Cherokee Falls, so there may have been a little falls thereabouts probably before they built the cotton mill.

Cherokee Falls was a mill town that grew around the Cherokee Manufacturing Company that was built there on the Broad River.  The people who worked in that mill for the most part lived in mill housing on the "Mill Hill" above the mill. Poverty was rampant there, as the cotton mill did not pay very much money even though the hours were long. The men, women, and children of that little community oftentimes were working in the mill from dawn to dusk. Yes, they used child labor in that mill until it was outlawed, but that is another story.

The woman who told me today's story lived on that Mill Hill in the early days of the 20th century.  This story haunted her even as she spoke it, wide eyed and horrified decades after it happened.  Here's what she said:

I just got supper on the table when my ol' man come running up the hill a'yellin', "OPEN THE DOOR!!! FOR GOD'S SAKE, WOMAN, OPEN THE DOOR!!!" 

I told the children to sit on down for supper, as I hurried to open the front door. 

He was around the bend in the road down the hill when I first went to the porch, but soon I could see him comin'.  He come runnin' faster'n I'd a'thought possible.  He never slowed a bit coming up those porch steps and through that door pushing me inside as he slammed it, bolted it, and pushed a chair under the knob a'fore running for the shotgun.

That thing a'chasin him hit that door so hard the door groaned under the weight, 'bout the time my ol' man got the shotgun loaded.  He shot both barrels point blank at that door.  Blowed a hole in it big enough for me to push my fist through, if I'd been so a'mind. 

Whatever that was on our porch screamed like a Banshee.  High like. Made my blood run cold, that scream.  We heard that thing bolt off the porch and leave, but we never went outside that night, and I didn't sleep much at all.  Took forever to get the children settled. 

The next morning we went out and there were claw marks a inch deep on our front door, and a dark trail going into the wood.  We followed that trail a'ways, but it trickled and ended like the thing was healin' quick as it run.  Darnedest think I ever did see.  Didn't leave narry'a footprint.  Like it was a ghost or somethin' worse.

After that we'd hear it now and then a'screamin' out in the wood.  Always at night.  High pitched like a woman screamin'.  Give you cold chills to hear it.

My ol' man said it was Booger Jim chased him.  He said that thing was near eight feet tall and black as soot. It could put its hands on the ground and run like a beast or walk on two legs like a man. 

They give him an awful hard time about it at work.  They said it were a bear or a panther, but if my ol' man said it was Booger Jim, then it was Booger Jim.  That's all I got to say about it.  That shotgun would'a killed a bear or a panther. 

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That's the best of my Booger Jim stories.  It was told to me as true.  You decide.

Cherokee Falls, South Carolina

Cherokee Falls, South Carolina

Cherokee Falls, South Carolina

Broad River in Cherokee Falls, South Carolina

Friday. A Few Hours Before Hurricane Matthew - A Diary Entry, October 7, 2016

South Carolina's Governor Haley and her band of back-up officials remind me of used car salesmen. 

Have I mentioned that I hate pretty much all sales people?  I especially hate used car salesmen, except the folks at Carmax who don't lie to you.

Today these government and local officials are telling me bold-faced lies on the television.  Seriously. It makes me angry.  They need to remember that they are talking to adults who vote.

One person just said on TV a little earlier that only people who have never experienced a hurricane before are staying.  LIE!  One of my neighbors who is staying has lived here more than 70 years and NEVER left for any of the hurricanes in all that time.

Don't lie to me.

Here is what the National Weather Service is saying as of this morning. Click the picture for a better view.

The weatherman that I trust, Rob Fowler, is no longer announcing.  They have a new fear mongering man yelling the weather report in an anxious voice. What he is actually saying is what you see above, but he is saying it like it will be Hugo.  It will NOT be Hugo.

I do not trust the television anymore.  What the TV officials are saying and what the National Weather Service is saying are two different things.  They are trying to scare people into leaving the area.  I believe it is because they will lose control of the populace for a few hours and the smaller that populace is the better they will feel.  

I have had herding dogs most of my life.  These dogs will protect their "herd" (I'm the only herd my herders have today.) with their lives.  They feel the need to keep the herd orderly and rounded up so that they can see each member of the herd at all times.  

Humans that work in law enforcement, healthcare, and government agencies have a LOT in common with herding dogs.

Now that the window is closing for evacuation, they are trying to herd those of us that are left into one of the shelters that they have created and that they can watch closely.  Those shelters are no safer than my house, but they can not see inside my house, so they'd like me to leave. 

Herding dogs.

Now.  Having said that, I will add that herding dogs are the most loyal and loving dogs you will ever encounter.  They are sincerely concerned for the welfare of their herd.  They are desperate to protect the herd because of their love for the individual members of that herd.

Yes.  Many humans have the same qualities as herding dogs.  

However, these particular people on my TV today are lying to me.  Herding dogs do NOT lie.  Only humans lie.  I don't mind them trying to persuade me to their side by using truth and valid arguments, but when they resort to lies, I can NOT believe anything they say.

Also, when they are telling me to evacuate NOW while they are standing in the same place I am, that is hypocrisy.  There is only one thing I hate worse than a lie and that is hypocrisy.  It reminds me of when I was little and Mama would say a curse word but whip me if I said the same word.  I HATE double-standards.  

That "do as I say not as I do" thing really makes me crazy.

Hurricane Matthew will hit Charleston as a CAT 1 hurricane and then turn into Tropical Storm Matthew.  It will flood.  There will be a storm surge for low-lying areas only.  There will be very large waves.  Trees may fall.  Power may go off for days.  Roofs may fail.  Homes may be destroyed especially if tornadoes are spawned from the hurricane.

All this "might" happen.  Some of this "will" happen, but I have more than mights and wills to consider.

I may have to work Monday along with a bazillion other people who evacuated and will all be trying to drive back home Sunday.  

They reversed the lanes to escape.  You are on your own getting back.  I predict that traffic will be a nightmare and people who ran from the storm to save their lives will lose their lives in accidents caused by the nightmare traffic full of stressed out drivers.

I also have to remember, the looters will NOT leave.  They never leave.  In fact, a lot of strangers are walking around my neighborhood looking at the houses as I type.  The looters scare me more than the storm.

I'm too angry at the lies on my television to type anymore today.  My apologies for venting to you, but it all needed to be said. 

Please don't lie.  Please stay as safe as you can wherever you are.  Please say your prayers if you are religious.  Please wish or hope for the best if you are not religious.  

I will post again tomorrow if I have electricity.  If not, you may not hear from me for awhile.  

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October 7, 2016 - 2:00 PM - The rain has begun. The bathtub is full of water.  A big container of water is freezing in my freezer and a big container of ice is sitting in my fridge.  Lots of extra water is in containers.  My car is parked at my neighbor's house on higher ground that did not flood last year during the 1000 year flood.  Now I wait.

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October 7, 2016 - 2:00 PM - The weatherman, Rob Fowler, is back announcing!  Yay!  I trust him. He does NOT try to scare me more than the storm warrants.  He just gives me the facts.

I like that.

The latest predictions have Hurricane Matthew hitting as a hurricane...possibly a CAT 2 Hurricane.  The next 24 hours will be harrowing. Click the picture for a better view.

Where is the Gray Man?

According to legend, the Gray Man first appeared in Pawley's Island, South Carolina back in 1822.  There are many tales as to who he was and how he ended up being the harbinger of disastrous hurricanes, but the fact remains, he appears.

It is good news to see the Gray Man yourself.  The property of the person who sees the Gray Man is spared all harm, but it is very very very extremely bad news for everyone else when the Gray man decides to make an appearance.  It means a hurricane is coming.  A BAD hurricane.  It literally means, "RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!" 

Curious?  This video tells the legend of the Gray Man.



They say Jim and Clara Moore saw the Gray Man before Hurricane Hugo back in September 1989. 

Right now Pawley's Island is in the path of MONSTER Hurricane Matthew.  Has anyone seen the Gray Man?  I wonder....

Big Jack and Little Jack Roberts: A True Story

When I was little we lived in a big two story house in a tiny little town in the Upstate hill country of South Carolina on the North Carolina line.  Our neighbors' surnames were Wilkins, Roberts, Owens, Paul, Fisher, Fort, Harding, Cooley, and such as that.

Today I'm thinking about two of my neighbors who were both named Jack Roberts.  We called them Big Jack and Little Jack. 

Now.  Big Jack was the older of the two.  He was a smallish grey haired man whose wife's name was Cathleen.  I called them Uncle Jack and Aunt Cathleen even though they were no blood kin to me that I knew about. 

Little Jack towered over Big Jack.  He was very tall (to a little girl like me) and had dark hair and his wife's name was Dorothy.  Little Jack and Dorothy had three children, Linda, Anita, and Johnny.  I loved them all so much.  They were the nicest people.

I'd often ask why we call Big Jack "big" when he was little, and why we called Little Jack "little" when he was big, but Mama would usually just say, "Because Big Jack is older than Little Jack," which never really made sense to me.

Little Jack worked all the time like my Daddy, but I would oftentimes go visit Big Jack and Aunt Cathleen.  They were almost always at home.

Big Jack had a little room off the back porch of his house that was full of radio equipment.  He was a ham radio operator.  I didn't really know what that meant for a very long time, but I did know I was never supposed to go in that room.  However, sometimes Uncle Jack would let me watch him turn the dials on all that radio equipment.  It was really something to see.

There would be different voices squawking over the speakers.  All static-y and  hard to understand, but Uncle Jack could always understand them.  He would say strange things like 10-4 and such, which made no sense to me.  I liked the sound of it though and would often repeat what I heard, which might be why I was not allowed in that room...come to think of it.  😉  Hmm....

I didn't know what the words meant so I would say them at odd times.  Daddy would say something like, "Alice, pass the mashed potatoes," and I'd say 10-4, and then I'd be amazed when Daddy'd say, "Alice, have you been over there bothering Uncle Jack again?"

I was convinced my Daddy was psychic.  😉

Aunt Cathleen and Uncle Jack both loved me.  It broke my heart when they passed away.  Little Jack went to heaven too, but his wife Dorothy is still alive and well.  I saw her last Autumn when I visited my hometown.  It gave me such joy to see her!  You have no idea.  She is still the sweet precious lady I've known all my life.  I felt so blessed to get to visit with her a little while. 

The houses where the two Roberts families lived are still there too, side by side.  I remember those houses very well.  The house on the right was Big Jack's house.  It looks different today.  When I was little it was white and had a screened porch on the front.  The house on the left was Little Jack's house and it looks exactly the same now as it did then except back then it had a new paint job and the roof was new.  I just love that house. 

I wish my sons and granddaughters could have known Uncle Jack and Aunt Cathleen and even Little Jack, but that is not the nature of life.  

Those of us fortunate enough to live many decades on this Earth lose those elderly loved ones from early childhood all too soon.  I believe it is good to remember them now and again. 

If you, like me, are blessed enough to have had such wonderful people in your life, please consider writing about them for your children and grandchildren and for the generations yet unborn.  Lest they be forgotten.

Every single name carved into a headstone is a story.  Most of the stories remain untold.  This makes me very sad, so expect to hear more about the humans worth remembering who have peopled my life.  Don't say I didn't warn you.  😉