Janet and "The Raven"

My friend, and now cousin by marriage, came to visit the other day.  Long before I met Barry, I knew Janet.  Janet and I went to Piedmont College in Demorest, Georgia together and both majored in English. 

This story is about the summer class we needed in order to graduate.  We had four students who met in the office of the professor.  No air conditioners were turned on back in the summer of 1978 and opened windows were a welcomed relief even it was warm air that circulated.  Thankfully we had the class in the mornings so it was cooler than the afternoon classes.  Okay, I have digressed.

Back to Janet.  The class was southern literature and if any of you are familiar with southern literature you know you study Edgar Allan Poe.  We read Poe stories and of course the famous "The Raven" poem.  Dr. Hodge was giving the poem his best.  After he read the serious and spooky poem, it was time to discuss it.  Janet was very serious when she asked the question, "Have you ever heard a bird speak?  A raven wouldn't be saying 'Never more' like you just read it."  Dr. Hodge ask her how she thinks the bird would or should have said it.  Janet, in her best parrot voice, began saying, "never more, never more, never more." 

Imagine a bird and how quickly they say the phrases they have been taught.  Take a minute and in your best parrot voice say the phrase "never more, never more, never more."  See, it totally loses the meaning Poe wanted to convey in his serious and spooky poem.

Years later I found myself teaching the works of Edgar Allan Poe. Yes, you guessed it.  I could hear Janet and her bird voice saying the phrase over and over again and yes, I just had to tell my students about Janet's serious discussion of "The Raven."

Oh well, one must find fun in education and Janet certainly found it in "The Raven."  I think some of the students I taught after that will always remember Edgar Allan Poe's poem too, maybe not in the way educators would like, but hey, they will remember.

It is me again, Lord, thanking you for allowing us to find humor in our daily life.

A little Georgia Wisdom:  When writing a serious poem, it might not be best to have a bird do the talking.

Bless Be the Tie

I have written about Mama, and Daddy, too.  There is so much more to say about my parents.  I have been so angry at them for dying. It has been five years since Mama passed away on April 19, 2006.  Those five years have taken our whole family on a journey one prays no other person has to take; however, we all must face the death of a loved one.  Some folks face it gracefully, they appear to grieve and move forward; some refuse to accept it and can't move on, while others get angry. 

First let me say I know about the five stages of grief: 1) denial, 2) anger, 3) bargaining, 4) depression, and finally, 5) acceptance.  I don't remember the denial stage when Mama died.  She had been sick for such a long time.  Sometimes during her illness, I felt angry because she was sick.  I prayed for her.  I encouraged her to be strong, but it was as though the mother I knew growing up was not the mother whose frail body was not getting well.  It was as if she refused to get better.  My mama had always been a strong woman and to see her frail was heartbreaking.

The bargaining stage came early on in Mama's illness. "Please, God, make her well.  I know I have not been the perfect daughter, but I will be."  "Please, God, let her get better, we will all help her take better care of herself."  "Please, God, make her comfortable.  Please don't let her suffer."  I'm sure my siblings were praying these same prayers for her.

As time passed and Mama's improvements were in waves, we felt encouraged for short periods of time.  When the doctor gave her only 48 hours, she rallied back.  Thank you, Jesus.  Prayers were answered!  God gave her more time!  She fell and broke her hip.  She almost died again, and again, we all prayed.  God answered.  She was improving.  Mama was given another opportunity.  We were so thankful.  After each time, she was more tired and finally, she didn't have the strength to keep going. Blood clots formed and then moved.  I think Mama felt it was time to go and her prayers for God to take her were answered.  It is easy to overlook the fact that while we were praying for Mama, she may have had a prayer request of  her own.

Great-grandson Jonathan and Daddy at Mama's funeral.

There has been years of depression watching Mama endure the pain of her illness. COPD is painful and she often felt as if she were drowning.  She was on oxygen 24/7 and feared that she might run out when she had to go on a portable to go to the doctor or on a shopping trip when she was able.

I don't know if I have truly accepted my mother's death.  I think about her every day and each day is easier than the day before, but I still have the pain of not being able to ask her to clarify situations or ask her for her advice.  I am not sure that I am over the anger of her leaving too soon, but that was not my choice.  God controls every aspect of our lives, and I am sure He was calling her to come home. I would not be human if I didn't feel the anger, but I do realize that God is in control and He knew her pain.

Our family will never be the same now that our mother and dad have passed away.  How do you heal that pain?  Each of us grieves in our own way.  Each of us has gotten to our own personal stage of the grief process and how we handle that stage and move on is up to the individual person.  God will help us mend the heartbreak each feels. What we need to realize is that each one of us is grieving. 

It is me again, Lord, thanking You for your grace to sustain us through the grieving process.

A little Georgia Wisdom:  Remember that no matter how many members are in a family, each has to deal with grief in his or her way.  We should never judge a person's grief or underestimate the grief process.

Baseball Kisses

Barry and I have enjoyed our visit with our North Carolina grandchildren.  We watched the season opener of the Blue Dogs T-Ball Team.  (An interesting name the team gave themselves; however, when their uniforms came they were blue, but the name "White Sox" is printed on them.  Since none of them can read, they have no idea that the words are not "Blue Dogs." ) Back to the game.  It was Will and Julia's first game of the season.  Julia was first up to bat.  They started in numerical order and she is #2 (She picked the number 2 because she was the second one born.).  Will picked number 5 because that is how old he is now.  So the game started with the players batting in numerical order.  Julia was up to bat.  She hit the ball and ran for first base!  She had reminded me earlier that I was suppose to cheer for her.  Of course, what she didn't know was that this proud Nanny was going to do that anyway.  There is a feeling of pride when you see your baseball player at bat.

When it was Will's turn to bat, he was excited.  His coach told him that he was "hot dogging" it and that if he continued, he would miss the ball.  Will was showing all the confidence in the world and I'm sure he envisioned himself as a great batter ready to "let the meat hit the ball."  After several misses, Will decided to quit "hot dogging" and "let the meat hit the ball."  The ball went straight toward the pitcher's mound and Will ran to first.

The game was a tough one with the opposing team showing the same aptitude as the Blue Dogs.  Each took his or her turn to bat and had the opportunity to run to first base.  Sometimes the player would forget he or she was the person on base and would run out after the ball when the next batter hit it.  This was a learning experience for each team, their parents. and grandparents in the stands.

Each player of both teams had the opportunity to bat.  When it came Julia's second time around, she approached the home base with confidence.  Will yelled encouraging words to her as she stepped up to the plate.  She put the bat on her shoulder, then turned toward Will and blew him a kiss.  Maybe the major league players should adopt blowing kisses as a way to encourage each other.  Oh, well, it was just an idea.  I guess it works better for five year old's than it would in the major league.

Will loves to catch the ball.  Well actually none of them really catch it, they all run after it--at the same time--and this can prove to be a real head banger.  They take it in stride and go back to their places on the field.  The coach has taught them how to bend their knees and hold their gloves like real baseball players do when they are ready to catch the ball.  Picture these miniature players in their cool uniforms, baseball caps, bent down with their ball mitt in their tiny hands just waiting for the crack of the bat as the ball takes off the T-stand.  They are looking at their parents for approval and sometimes have to be reminded to keep their eye on the ball.

We have the second game on Thursday.  It will be another interesting game being played for four and five year old's.  Julia gladly let a teammate have her turn on first base when he cried at the first game.  She told him she would take the next turn.  Will is working on not getting angry when he misses the ball and another teammate gets to it first.  The team is a work in progress.

What do adults learn from watching a T-ball game?  We learn that it doesn't matter whose turn it is to bat, I can wait for mine.  We learn that if a friend is on the other team, we cheer him on too.  We learn that it is just a game and it doesn't matter who wins, it was fun to play.

It is me again, Lord, thanking you for the opportunity to watch a T-Ball game where children come with no expectations of doing any thing more than having fun with another group of children.

A little Georgia Wisdom:  Enjoy life's lessons from a child's point of view.  It looks a lot different from their perspective.

Daddy's Legacy

Daddy at his 80th birthday celebration.

Daddy was born on April 1, 1927.  He was a year old when his mother passed away, and wasn't even born when his daddy died.  The picture you see of his mother was made shortly before she died of cancer.  Daddy was raised by his dedicated brothers and sisters.  His oldest brother, Hollis, stood firm when relatives wanted to put the younger children in an orphanage.







From L-R: William "Billy" Smith, Zadie Smith Broome; Buford Smith; Fannie Smith Simmons; Gladys Smith McCoy; and Lucy Lena Ward Smith

Billy was my dad.






Uncle Hollis Smith was eighteen years old when he made a promise to a dying father to keep the family together.  He kept his promise and my dad and his siblings grew up knowing each other and continued to stay in contact with each other until they died.  A closer family would be difficult to find.  Uncle Clarence, Aunt Emma, and Aunt Zadie were also very instrumental in making sure the younger children would grow up to know their family ties.  Daddy was always grateful for the love of his siblings.

When their mother died, Daddy's brother, Uncle Clyde, was in the fourth grade.  He carried Daddy to school with him every day.  No disposable diapers, just the diaper Daddy wore that morning.  The teacher would cry because she was so touched by the devotion of these children to each other. She would share her lunch with them.

Daddy was given many opportunities by folks he met along the way.  He never forgot these important influences in his life.  At fourteen, Daddy was taught how to drive a truck and given a job by Broughten Arial, The Arials gave Daddy a home while he was working for them.  They opened their home and family to Daddy. That family meant a lot to Daddy and on his 80th birthday celebration their son came to help him celebrate.

Daddy taught the five of us children work ethics.  He always encouraged us to do our best work.  "You are being paid for your time and the quality of work you do.  Give your employer your best."  Daddy believed it, and he led by example.  When Daddy went home to be with the Lord on October 2, 2007, many of the men and women who had worked for Daddy at the local furniture factory told us he was one of the best bosses they had ever had because he was a fair. 

Before Daddy died he had a golf cart and would travel all over the community while we were at work.  We didn't know how much until he passed away.  Several neighbors told us that he would ride to their houses and take the children on rides around the yard.  They loved "Mr. Billy."

Daddy never called me "Sugar Bug" like he called my cousins.  Daddy did tell me I cooked salmon patties, gravy, and biscuits like my mama. 

He would call me at 6:00 every morning and tell me it was time to get up. Barry and I would get ready for work, and Daddy would "leave the light on" for us. We cooked breakfast for him every morning.  I loved that time with Daddy even though we were having to leave to go to work. 

There are so many good memories of Daddy.  My brother Eddie gave a eulogy for Daddy.  He captured the very essence of Daddy's life and personality.  Daddy didn't meet strangers and could talk to anyone who would listen.  In many ways, he left that part of himself with each one of us children.  One of the best memories of Daddy and me is that we were baptized on the same day together.  He led by example. 

There are so many things to share about both my mom and dad that it is impossible to write it all in one sitting.

It is me again, Lord, thanking you for a loving dad and for uncles and aunts who took care of him as a child. 

A little Georgia Wisdom:  God commanded us to love one another.

The Four Sack

Some of you are way too young to know about the FLOUR SACKS, but some of you will remember. I hope ALL of you will enjoy reading this very well-written article. (Thank you Cindy Savage Sapp)

Cindy posted this on our "MyFamily.com"  hope you all enjoy this poem.

THE FLOUR SACK



BY COLLEEN B. HUBERT

IN THAT LONG AGO TIME WHEN THINGS WERE SAVED,
WHEN ROADS WERE GRAVELED AND BARRELS WERE STAVED,
WHEN WORN-OUT CLOTHING WAS USED AS RAGS,
AND THERE WERE NO PLASTIC WRAP OR BAGS,
AND THE WELL AND THE PUMP WERE WAY OUT BACK,
A VERSATILE ITEM, WAS THE FLOUR SACK.

PILLSBURY'S BEST, MOTHER'S AND GOLD MEDAL, TOO
STAMPED THEIR NAMES PROUDLY IN PURPLE AND BLUE.

THE STRING SEWN ON TOP WAS PULLED AND KEPT;
THE FLOUR EMPTIED AND SPILLS WERE SWEPT.
THE BAG WAS FOLDED AND STORED IN A SACK
THAT DURABLE, PRACTICAL FLOUR SACK.

THE SACK COULD BE FILLED WITH FEATHERS AND DOWN,
FOR A PILLOW, OR T'WOULD MAKE A NICE SLEEPING GOWN.
IT COULD CARRY A BOOK AND BE A SCHOOL BAG,
OR BECOME A MAIL SACK SLUNG OVER A NAG.
IT MADE A VERY CONVENIENT PACK,
THAT ADAPTABLE, COTTON FLOUR SACK.

BLEACHED AND SEWN, IT WAS DUTIFULLY WORN
AS BIBS, DIAPERS, OR KERCHIEF ADORNED.
IT WAS MADE INTO SKIRTS, BLOUSES AND SLIPS.
AND MOM BRAIDED RUGS FROM ONE HUNDRED STRIPS
SHE MADE RUFFLED CURTAINS FOR THE HOUSE OR SHACK,
FROM THAT HUMBLE BUT TREASURED FLOUR SACK!

AS A STRAINER FOR MILK OR APPLE JUICE,
TO WAVE MEN IN, IT WAS A VERY GOOD USE,
AS A SLING FOR A SPRAINED WRIST OR A BREAK,
TO HELP MOTHER ROLL UP A JELLY CAKE,
AS A WINDOW SHADE OR TO STUFF A CRACK,
WE USED A STURDY, COMMON FLOUR SACK!

AS DISH TOWELS, EMBROIDERED OR NOT,
THEY COVERED UP DOUGH, HELPED PASS PANS SO HOT,
TIED UP DISHES FOR NEIGHBORS IN NEED,
AND FOR MEN OUT IN THE FIELD TO SEED.
THEY DRIED DISHES FROM PAN, NOT RACK
THAT ABSORBENT, HANDY FLOUR SACK!

WE POLISHED AND CLEANED STOVE AND TABLE,
SCOURED AND SCRUBBED FROM CELLAR TO GABLE,
WE DUSTED THE BUREAU AND OAK BED POST,
MADE COSTUMES FOR OCTOBER (A SCARY GHOST)
AND A PARACHUTE FOR A CAT NAMED JACK.
FROM THAT LOWLY, USEFUL OLD FLOUR SACK!

SO NOW MY FRIENDS, WHEN THEY ASK YOU
AS CURIOUS YOUNGSTERS OFTEN DO,
'BEFORE PLASTIC WRAP, ELMER'S GLUE
AND PAPER TOWELS, WHAT DID YOU DO?'
TELL THEM LOUDLY AND WITH PRIDE DON'T LACK,
'GRANDMOTHER HAD THAT WONDERFUL FLOUR SACK!'

(Feed sacks too!! Remember???)

Spring

Our dogwood trees are starting to bloom and so are the apple trees in our front yard.  Spring is a kind soul who slips in between cold days until it eventually takes over.  We don't know how to dress for spring because it is oozing in making us wish for shorts and t-shirts, but in reality the next day may be cold and rainy.  Yes, even in the south, we don't know when to pack our winter clothes completely away and bring out summer ones.  Yet, Spring brings with it a renewed earth with its green grasses and beautiful blossoms which gives us hope of a new tomorrow.

Spring showers cause the sleeping flowers to stretch and yawn and break through the Earth's soil.  God has provided us the seasons as a reminder that He is the one who created the beauty we enjoy.  We get so busy in our daily chores that we forget, or fail to remember, the One who breathed the life into every living plant, tree, flower, or soil.  I think of soil as a living thing.  It takes the combination of soil, water, and sun to wake up the hibernating plants and trees.  Can one not look at the beauty and not believe in God? 

In the yard where the dogwoods bloom,
In the field the flowers grow,
It is these things we surely know,
that God is with us.

In the yard where the dogwoods bloom,
In the fields the garden grows,
It is these things we surely know,
that God is with us.

In the fence the cows do low,
In the sun the flowers grow,
It is in these things we surely know,
that our God is with us.

It is me again, Lord, thanking you for the wonders of your creation and Spring.
A little Georgia Wisdom, when in doubt of an awesome God, take a closer look at Spring.

Mama

I have been working on a story about my mama.  Strange thing to write about someone so close is that it is the most difficult piece to write.  Mama taught me many things to include the love of reading.  She read to me so much when I was a little girl that I memorized one of the books. 

Mama would read while she churned to make butter and buttermilk.  Churning is a boring job with its up and down repetitions of the churn stick in the large churn.  The butter would eventually rise to the top to be scooped up and molded into round chunks of butter.  The milk left after the butter was separated was the buttermilk.  This took awhile and to entertain herself, Mama would read.

Mama's love for reading lead her to writing.  She was a member of the Georgia Romance Writers and attended many of their conferences in Atlanta.  She would share parts of her manuscripts at the conferences, and actually wrote four complete books; however,  because she was a perfectionist, she would not send them to the publishers.  Harlequin requested one of her books, and an editor from another company wanted to read her work. Mama wanted it to be letter perfect before she would let go of her hard work.

Reading and writing were just two of her many hobbies.  Mama was a visionary.  She loved to work with her hands and this included refinishing or making furniture.  She and Granny would build furniture.  They once cut a long sofa into two separate pieces to make a love seat and chair.  They built bookshelves and small shelves to hold knick knacks.  They were a creative duo.

Mama also loved to sew.  She made all of our clothes when we were growing up.  Years ago when I was little the dresses were made from flour sacks. At that time one could buy flour in cloth sacks.  These sacks were brightly colored and the material was just right for making little girl's dresses.  My cousins, Bernice and Barbara, have fond memories and more vivid memories of the flour sack dresses than I have.  I wish I could remember the prints and colors of those flour sacks.

Mama was an early advocate of recycling.  She used the brown paper bags from the grocery store in the kitchen.  These bags were used to drain foods such as the wonderful donuts she would fry.  One of my favorite memories was getting off the school bus and smelling the evidence of the donuts or cake she was making for our afternoon snack.  Just thinking about it makes me long for the delicious bites of her chocolate cake. (Mama was often teased that her stove couldn't bake anything but chocolate cakes.)
It took her several years to actually start using paper towels.  She used cloth towels in the kitchen that could be washed over and over again.




Linda, Dwayne, Eddie, Sherry, and Terry
(I'm sure Mama made the dresses Sherry and I have on to include the blouse under my jumper.)


(Mama also made the pink suit she is wearing in the first picture.)





Mama loved music and could yodel (my brothers and sister don't know this titbit of information) and took areobics classes.  She was a modern woman.  Her eye for fashion was evident in her well matched outfits. Many years after she stopped sewing, she could walk into a store, pull several items down from the rack and the results would be a lovely suit that would be one of a kind.  She knew how to combine items together to get the look she wanted.  She should have gone into fashion design because she sure had an eye for it.  How I wish I had inherited that trait from her!

My mama went home to be with the Lord on April 19, 2006.  She had been very ill for a long time.  Sometimes I get so angry at her for an early death.  I wanted her to be like she was when I was a child--healthy and creative.  To see someone you love sucumb to illness is hard to watch.  The mama I want to remember is the one listening to the radio, sewing cute dresses, and planning a trip to the beach.  She would put on her bikini and get her tan in the backyard then talk my daddy into going.  Daddy didn't like the beach, but he seem to enjoy it once he was there.

I look forward to talking to Mama again.  She taught us about God and the importance of being saved by accepting Jesus Christ as our personal savior and asking forgiveness of our sins.   She reminded us to read our Bibles and to pray.  Every night as each one of us crawled into bed, she would call to us a reminder saying, "don't forget to say your prayers."  Every night when I go to bed, I say my prayers.  Mama taught us well.

It is me again, Lord, thanking you for the love of a mama who taught us to love You and the importance of talking to You.

A little Georgia Wisdom:  Enjoy the time with your mother, read your Bible everyday and whatever you do, don't forget to say your prayers.