Church Nursery

30 April 2017

When we were growing up, my mother mentioned more than once that she wasn't really crazy about having children . . . she'd help raise 5 sisters and a brother . . . figured she'd had enough. I was always a little confused about why she said this because she did little to "prevent" pregnancy . . . obviously had 2 girls! And it's not like she didn't love us.

That said, she LOVED her grandchildren . . . there no doubt in my mind that she would have loved you!

She came to church with me a few times over the years after we moved to Knoxville, and on occasion, while she was there, I'd get stuck in the nursery . . . she'd always help out. She never minded holding a tiny one in the nursery, and they all seemed to love her.

When your mom and Auntie E were little, she'd hold them for hours at a time . . . as long as they'd sit with her, she'd hold them.

Even though she's not here to enjoy watching you grow, I know she's keeping an eye on you from above. I am positive she would have loved hanging out with you in the nursery at church.

There's a set of twins in the nursery that think you're pretty interesting . . . every time I put you in one of the cribs, they rush over to check out the situation! You talk to them, and they talk to you . . . but I have no idea what you're saying to each other! I personally think they try to figure out ways to help you escape!!

"Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends

Hmm, I get high with a little help from my friends

Hmm, I'm going to try with a little help from my friends" ~ The Beatles, With a Little Help From My Friends

 

The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia . . . Florida Really . . . Fine, It Was Morning

29 April 2017

Funny . . . every time I think about that day, this song by Vicki Lawrence . . . from 1973 . . . always pops into my head. It's unrelated to my story . . . especially the part about someone getting shot. Nobody got shot that morning on the Rainbow River!

Now I did shoot a dog with a crossbow one time down there . . . blunt tipped arrow . . . don't worry, the dog didn't die. 

But that's another story!

It was April Fool's Day . . . probably about 1987. I was renting a house that was located on one of the most beautiful properties I'd ever seen . . . on the Rainbow River . . . just outside of Dunnellon, Florida. Short river . . . 6 miles long . . . but crystal clear with a steady temperature of 72 degrees all year.

Yeah, the water was cold during the sweltering 98 degree, 100% humid days . . . 

. . . with dry winter temps in the 40's and 50's, however, it seemed warm.

(that fact will become important)

Since the house was outside of the city, there was no city water . . . there was a well and a septic tank. Yes, thankfully there was indoor plumbing as the water was pumped out of the well by an electric pump that fed water tank in the house. What that meant, however . . . 

I was in the shower that morning getting ready to go to work. I'd just put shampoo in my hair and had gotten a really good lather when the water stopped . . . STOPPED! My eyes were closed to keep the shampoo out, so I didn't notice that the lights were out too. Groping for a washcloth to wipe my eyes, I turned the water off and then back on again . . . just in case. No luck! Wrapping a towel around me, I walked out to call a friend who I knew liked to play pranks . . . especially on April Fool's Day . . . asked him if he turned the water off. He said no, but if the electricity was out, then the water pump wouldn't run.

Aha . . . now what?!?!? I had soap in my hair, and I wasn't done with my shower!!!

Well, it was April . . . and April is a little chilly in Florida . . . I could, I figured, just finish up bathing in the river. After all, I'd bathed in open water before while on camping trips . . . no big deal. I wasn't even thinking about dangers lurking in the waters . . . the thought of alligators never once crossed my mind! It was early morning too . . . who would possibly be out on the river at this hour?! My neighbors certainly wouldn't be up . . . besides they couldn't see my part of the river from their houses anyway!

So, off I went . . . towel wrapped around me to use when I finished. I dropped the towel on the sea wall and dunked myself under the water to rinse . . . 

. . . and that's when I heard it . . . 

. . . the theme song from Jaws . . . in my head!!

I never saw an alligator, but in that split second, with that horrifying tune in my head, I just KNEW a giant one was approaching. In the next second I was in the house . . . trying to catch my breath . . . stop the flow of adrenaline . . . realizing I'd left my towel on the sea wall! I peeked out of the window to make sure I hadn't actually been chased by a gator . . . just in time to see the fishing boat drift lazily by my dock . . . a man looking at the house . . . laughing.

I thought about calling in sick that day, but I didn't . . . horrified as I was from the morning's event. Now that I look back on that day, it seems really funny . . . 

. . . it was not funny back in 1987.

"Everything you want is on the other side of fear."

Jamaica Called Me . . . Not Kidding

28 April 2017

When I was a travel agent I got to do quite a bit of traveling. The company I worked for sent us on "FAM" trips . . . "Familiarization Trips" . . . where we got to check out places that the tour companies we booked through wanted us to sell. Sometimes we got to go places that were rebuilding after a hurricane or storm to see which properties were open to business.

One of those "after a disaster" trips was to Cancun . . . just after Hurricane Gilbert devastated that peninsula! Some of the hotels down there had watermarks inside that were at the 25 to 30 foot mark . . . whole beaches had been washed away . . . pools filled with sand and trees . . . houses gone . . . a ship washed onto a beach next to a hotel . . . A SHIP!!! I'd never seen anything like it. But when you're in the tourist business, you have to get back on your feet fast, so they were rebuilding and repairing like crazy! Bulldozers pushed mountains of imported sand to create new beaches . . . construction workers scurried around hotels making necessary repairs . . . plumbers laid new pipes right across the floors just to get water flowing! It was insane!

I also got to go to Jamaica . . . under much better conditions . . . with 13 other travel agents.

We toured 6 of the most exclusive all-inclusive resorts on the island . . . from Montego Bay to Port Antonio. The resorts treated us like royalty . . . well, because we were travel agents and they wanted to be sure we would recommend their places! The great thing about this trip was that in addition to seeing some of the coolest properties, we also got to do things tourists enjoyed . . . like going to Dunn's River Falls! Now THAT place is beautiful! It's a waterfall . . . of sorts . . . it doesn't exactly fall straight down into a pool of water like most waterfalls do though . . . the water flows over rock formations that form an angular path down the mountain. Swimmers start and the top and slide or fall into the next area until you reach the bottom.

Me . . . Michelle . . . Mellodie at Dunn's River Falls

One really cool place that we got to visit was Rose Hall . . . a mansion that, according to legend, was haunted by the ghost of a woman, Annie Palmer, also known as "The White Witch," who murdered 3 husbands there! Johnny Cash even recorded a song about her: "The Legend of Annie Palmer!"
 

Rose Hall

We spent 4 days wandering through the north side of the island. My friend Michelle had a memorable experience (thanks to the legend of Rose Hall), but we'll talk about that another time. I don't want to get too sidetracked.

So, when you have a cell phone and no home phone, you are required to share your number if you sign up for credit cards or accounts with mail order companies. Problem is . . . just like when we had home phones . . . solicitors now have access to your number . . . and they call!! You can get on the "no call" list, but I don't think that really helps. Cool thing about cell phones is that they're all equipped with Caller ID, so if you haven't loaded a number and someone calls you, you can simply ignore it. If it is someone you know . . . that for some reason you don't have their number loaded . . . and it's important, they'll likely leave a message. I don't mind it as much as I used to, but I wish they'd make selling your number to telemarketers illegal!

Enough rambling though.

My phone rang one day, and when I looked to see who it was, the caller ID told me it was Jamaica. Not kidding! Where the name should be it said Jamaica. I thought it was so funny that I posted it on FB!

Well, I thought it was funny . . 

"Tired feet always say the path is long." Jamaican Proverb

You're Teething

27 April 2017

Your mom had to babysit some other kids last night, and I figured I'd just take you home with me after I picked you up yesterday. You've been teething lately and haven't felt very good for the last couple of days.

Thankfully it was a beautiful sunshiny evening, so I grabbed the fish blanket and some toys and headed out to the front yard. You love being outside!

Good grief you're a strong kid . . . you spent most of the time climbing all over me . . . standing up while holding on . . . crawling and sitting! Every now and again you'd make your way over to the grass, but for some reason you weren't crazy about getting out into it . . . in spite of the fact that your mom said you loved it at Easter!

You ate dinner about 7 . . . your first taste of bananas . . . THAT was a win. It wasn't long before you started looking tuckered out, so I figured a nap would be in order.

You're pretty easy to put to sleep . . . lay you on your back, pacifier in your mouth, let you hold my arm while it rests across your little body. Within 5 minutes you were a goner! However, tonight, 30 minutes later you were fussy, so I came back in to lay down with you so you'd sleep a little longer . . . a 30 minute nap just isn't enough.

I truly cherish this time with you kid . . . there is nothing sweeter than to have tiny fingers wrapped around my hand . . . 

Or a tiny head resting on my arm . . . 

There are not enough words in the world to tell you how much I love you!

"Let him sleep, for when he wakes, he will move mountains!"

Don Quixote . . . on Being Chivalrous

26 April 2017

There's a book . . . written by Miguel de Cervantes in 1605 and 1615 . . . Don Quixote de La Mancha . . . that has been in my pile of "books to read" for years. I've started it several times, but it's one of those books that requires full and constant attention . . . it was translated from Spanish to English. The title in Spanish is El Ingenioso Hidalgo don Quixote de la Mancha which really translates to "The Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote of La Mancha."

Considered one of the most influential works of literature from the Spanish Golden Age, it regularly appears on lists of the greatest works of fiction ever published . . . has made contributions to the modern Spanish language.

It's a romantic story . . . not in the sense of "romance" in the world of love . . .  but the story of a man who's read so many stories of chivalry that he sets out to REVIVE chivalry . . . to right all of the wrongs . . . bring justice to the world . . . and in the process loses his sanity. He renames himself Don Quixote de la Mancha and recruits a farmer as his squire who uses a unique, earthy wit in dealing with Don Quixote's rhetorical orations on antiquated knighthood. Don chooses to see the world as he imagines it to be . . . living out his knightly story!

We "romanticize" a lot of things: knights, pirates, native peoples, cowboys, aliens . . . simply said, we have a tendency to see some things as we WANT to see them . . . not as they really were. I tell people I'm a pirate, but I'd certainly never rape, pillage, and plunder . . . I just want to sail around dressed like one . . . singing sea shanties and drinking rum! Pirates were thieves, murderers, rapists, kidnappers . . .

. . . and aliens aren't real!

The movie came out in 1972, and we got to see it. Probably because we were living in Spain, and my mom thought it relevant. The movie, however, is just an excerpt from the entire story. I inherited her copy of the book a couple of years ago . . . she thought it important that I read it too.

I suppose the reason this came up is two-fold:

1. Chivalry seems to have taken a vacation in today's world. From Merriam - Webster:

And

2. The song from the movie pops up from time to time in my head:

It's a simple concept really . . . one I'd like for you to hold on to . . . be a good man Tommy. Be gallant, and strong, and brave, and dedicated . . . courteous . . . kind! And always, always reach for that unreachable star!!

Oh yeah . . . I forgot to mention . . . Don Quixote sees windmills as dragons . . . like real creatures . . . and he fights them! His family was quite embarrassed by his seemingly psychotic actions. I, on the other hand, love Don Quixote!

"Some say that the age of chivalry is past, that the spirit of romance is dead. The age of chivalry is never past, so long as there is a wrong left unredressed on earth." ~ Charles Kingsley

Kickboxing

25 April 2017

When we first moved to Knoxville, I wasn't really a happy camper . . . we'd lived in Denver for several years . . . the first place that I felt like I'd actually put down roots. Don't get me wrong now . . . I missed being close to my family . . . missed my mom and dad like crazy! It was hard on them too . . . 1200 miles separated them from their granddaughters.

But from day 1, Denver felt like home to me.

My first year in Knoxville was hard. I resented the move. Your grandfather worked all of the time. I didn't want to expend the effort to really make friends because I had left some really great ones out west. Your mom and Auntie E had a hard time adjusting to this new world filled with bugs they'd never seen (that was really traumatic for them) . . . a sweltering heat they'd never really experienced . . . a neighborhood with few kids their ages . . . transition to a school full of children that "talked funny" . . .

Thankfully children are pretty resilient . . . 

. . . the girls adapted pretty quickly once they started school.

Me? I was lost.

It wasn't like I lived in unfamiliar territory though; I lived just down the road from Knoxville back in the late 70's and early 80's . . . even went to a nearby college. Not much had changed here though . . . except for some of the roads. I got lost quite a bit those first few months.

But I was sad.

It took about a year to get my bearings, and I'd finally resigned myself to the fact that this would have to become "home" one way or another. I had to do something drastically different if I was  going to survive!

So, I joined a gym.

Yeah, I know, that sounds a little weird, but exercise, if done consistently, releases endorphins in your brain and can make you happier. I was willing to try anything.

The first classes I participated in at the gym were Body Pump and Body Step . . . I'd never heard of them. Sure, I'd lifted weights in my younger years . . . even used some of those fancy machines. I'd even come to love the step classes I'd take at the YMCA . . . years earlier . . . in Indiana. But these classes were really cool. Fully choreographed workout programs set to specific music tracks. And they were fun!

Life was getting better.

Then, one day I showed up for a step class, but they'd changed the schedule one me. The class that replaced it was a kickboxing class.

As a youngster I had learned to throw punches and kicks . . . REAL fights with REAL people, but this was different. They weren't self-defense kickboxing classes though . . . just something to get the blood pumping . . . 

. . . from the first class I was addicted!

There's something about spending an hour punching and kicking a boxing bag . . . releasing every ounce of aggression and sadness through my hands and feet . . . ending up sweat soaked and exhausted . . . euphoric even . . . certainly cathartic.

At first I felt really awkward, and I was a little apprehensive about actually wearing boxing gloves to do it. Those 14oz gloves may not seem heavy, but after an hour of throwing punches, they feel like lead!

17 years later . . . I can't imagine giving it up. At 54, I hurt a lot more, but I keep going . . . because it still makes me feel like a warrior . . . tough and battle ready. It erases the stress of the day. I've even jokingly told people it's the only thing that's kept me from punching people who make me angry . . . in reality those days ended with Clarence . . . a boy in the 8th grade that really made me mad.

But that's a story for another day.

I'll keep it up as long as I can physically do it. From the moment I wrap my hands and don my gloves until the last stretch, I get to spend an hour believing that I'm the biggest, baddest thing around . . . and that nothing . . . NOTHING can take me down.

I hope you live an active life. Maybe one day you'll take up kickboxing . . . or soccer . . . or weightlifting . . . or baseball. But do something that makes you move! We're built to move!

"Pain is weakness leaving the body."

 

NMN

24 April 2017

I believe I mentioned that my mom chose my name after she saw a movie, Yolanda and the Thief, when she was a young girl, but I can't remember if I told you she gave me no middle name! Her reasoning was that she'd picked such an unusual first name that, if I wanted to at some future point, adding a middle name would be a whole lot easier than changing my name.

Of course, I don't think she took into consideration what the Navy would do when they issued our ID cards.

In the military, at least when I was a kid, you could apply for your own ID card at the magic age of 10. I have no clue why they set the age at 10. I couldn't drive . . . well legally anyway. I had no real money to go shopping at the PX (that's the Post Exchange, sort of like a general store) or the commissary (grocery store). BUT, at 10 I could ride the base bus by myself, go to the movies, hit the pool . . . so there was that!

Me . . . at 10 . . . for my own ID

I got mine while we were in Spain . . . as luck would have it, my sister would have to wait until we got back to the States the following year to get hers!

I was so excited though . . . to get my own ID card. When I went to the PX or commissary with Mom or Dad, I got to actually SHOW it!

So, because I have no middle name, and the military requires all "blank spaces" to be filled, they added the letters NMN to my card.

NMN = No Middle Name

I thought it was great, but it confused my sister to no end! For some bizarre reason she thought NMN was her middle name. 

I never really thought about it to tell you the truth, but it sure bothered a lot of other people. "What do you mean you don't have a middle name?" was the most common response. I always replied with "I don't know why . . . my mom never gave me one." It even bothered a group of teenage girls when I was a Girl Scout leader . . . so much so they spent a week trying to come up with one for me! By the end of the week I was dubbed Yolanda Zimbabwe . . . I thought it was funny . . . they thought it was awesome!

The US Holocaust Memorial Museum

23 April 2017

I hope you get to go one day . . . I hope you appreciate the history behind it. I am not going to tell you anything about it since, to me, it needs to be experienced firsthand. This was my initial response:

I took no pictures, but I wanted something to put here, so I found a couple on the internet . . . two things that spoke volumes . . . personal . . .

Sorrow followed me out of that place . . . overwhelming . . . enveloping. I came away with more questions than answers. I didn't want to buy anything from the gift store . . . felt no real need . . . until I found a bracelet with the words " "What I do matters" inscribed on it.

Those words tied in so neatly with the quote above . . . 

. . . yes, what you do matters Dean! It all matters!! 

I think your Grammy would have liked to been able to visit this place; I hope you get to go one day.

College Park, MD

22 April 2017

Your Auntie E and I traveled north to the D.C. area to visit her boyfriend Brandon . . . and The Captain who drove down from Jersey to meet us!

Brandon's been working in College Park for almost a year now . . . he graduated the same time your Auntie E did. Dating long distance has been tough for them.

He took us on a "tour" around his stomping grounds since it was too wet and rainy to hit D.C. We had breakfast as a local diner . . . you always want to hit the local spots when you travel . . . forget the "chain restaurants." You just can't tell when you're going to find a "diamond!" Food was awesome!

Hyattsville was next on the list . . . to Brandon's favorite coffee shop: Vigilante Coffee Company. These "hipster" coffee joints have popped up all over the place . . . not that it's a bad thing . . . in fact, I think it's pretty awesome! Starbucks was the only game in town for out-of-the-norm coffee, but they're pretty overrated.

These little coffee joints are kind of cool. Some places, like Vigilante, import and roast their own beans.

My choice, however, wasn't coffee this time . . . it was a honey lemon mint tea; I think it was a good choice.

Afterward we hit up a small general store that had LOTS of cool stuff . . . mostly stuff I didn't need. I did walk out with some raspberry and orange ginger beers . . . those were delicious!

Since it was still pouring rain, we all decided that sightseeing was out . . . IKEA came up . . . so off to the giant mart we drove! I've never seen anything like this place either. This was my single FB post for it:

Are you kidding me? 6 Months?!?

21 April 2017

Today marks half a year for you . . . 

My goodness boy . . . where does the time go? For the next 18 years you'll complain that time goes too slow, but when you're on the other side of 50 times just goes by so fast, you can't keep up!

You're crawling . . . have been for several weeks . . . at first you looked like a chameleon trying to find its way up a branch. Now you're a pro and can get just about anywhere. Nothing's safe now!

You've also pulled yourself up, and though you have the "walking motion" down, you're not yet cruising . . . thankfully!

You have the most infectious laugh . . . sometimes you sound a bit like a dolphin . . . I find that hysterically endearing.

That smile though . . . you have the most beautiful smile . . . every part of your body gets involved with it too!

Peekaboo is a favorite game, but it's old hat now . . . you started with that game a couple of months ago . . . long before any baby I've ever known!!

I love everything about you, and I'm so lucky to be your Yaya!

Hot Georgia Summers

20 April 2017

Beyond working those couple of summers in Georgia, we . . . me, mom and my sister . . . spent a lot of time visiting family there after we moved to Tennessee. Somewhere around 1978 Dad had started his own business, so he was working long hours. Most trips he didn't have the time to go with us, and more often than not, he accompanied us on the visits to Savannah rather than Lyons.

I don't really recall many family vacations that didn't involve visiting family. Dad took that 30 day leave in Spain, so we could travel around Europe. There was a trip or two to Disney World, but we either traveled with family or visited with Aunt Paige, Uncle Jim, and Brandy in Orlando. We rented a houseboat for a week in Chattanooga but shared that with Uncle Bud, Aunt Robbie and their crew.

I never minded visiting family . . . 

. . . there were usually tons of kids, mostly cousins . . . 

. . . and we pretty much had free reign during those visits!

Greg and Karl . . . raised a little more polished in Savannah . . . were full blown country boys by the time I was a teenager. I loved hanging out with them because motorcycles, four wheelers, fast cars, and guns were usually involved! Both had mean streaks, Karl's a little more evident than Greg's, but I didn't mind . . . well, except for the time Karl shoved a wad of chewing tobacco into my mouth . . .

 . . . and Greg shoving my nose into his armpit!

There was usually a family reunion or church homecoming going on. There is no food better than the food that shows up at these events: fried chicken was usually cold because it was made that morning BEFORE coming to church, but it was always so good . . . deviled eggs in a dozen varieties because sister Sue's recipe was better than sister Martha's . . . five different flavors of potato salad because Hellman's, Kraft, and Blue Plate mayonnaise are personal choices and that old sister Sarah uses {{{GASP}}} Miracle Whip in hers . . . homemade macaroni and cheese baked with bread crumbs on top . . . ham always made an appearance, cut into thick slices, cold and brown sugar coated . . . those flat, country green beans always cooked with bacon . . . field peas too, soaking in their "likker," a ham hock half buried . . . cornbread, there was always cornbread, sweet delicious cornbread! SO. MUCH. FOOD.

By far, however, Michael was my favorite. He belonged to Aunt Teen, a gentle woman who fed your spirit, soul . . . and your stomach. Michael was quite a bit older than I, but whenever he appeared, I was dead on his heels. He took me fishing a couple of times; he was a fishing genius. I have no idea how he managed it, but almost every time he sunk a hook, he'd pull a fish! I could stand right next to him and never get a bite . . . he'd be pulling them in no matter where he cast . . . I'd be drowning worms!

Michael died at a young age . . . I'm pretty sure he was in his 30's. Sometimes when I go down to Georgia, I drive by his house . . . it's still there . . . 

. . . I miss Michael.

We lost Aunt Teen a few years ago. You would have loved her!! A visit to her house nearly always guaranteed a fish fry . . . fish caught by both Michael and Maynard (one of her other sons) . . . sometimes by Aunt Teen herself! She had a secret fishing hole . . . baited her hooks with squished up white bread balls. I always thought that was the funniest thing! I popped as many bread balls into my mouth as I put on hooks. Catfish love bread balls . . . at least the ones in her secret fishing hole did!

We'd visit Aunt Mary and Uncle Robert on Sunday's sometimes . . . they had plastic covers on the furniture in the living room . . . something I thought odd. . . but I sure loved my aunt and uncle!

Aunt Carolyn and Uncle Wendell owned a dry cleaning business . . . he'd buy us a Coke, the tiny 6 ounce bottle, and peanuts from the vending machine . . . my sister and I would sit on the sidewalk outside to drink that ice cold soda and snack. Mom told us she always put her peanuts in her Coke, but we never developed a taste for that.

We'd stop in to see Granny Page . . . she always seemed to be more than 100 years old . . . tiny and stout and the same time . . . an apron around her waist since I'm pretty sure she was ALWAYS cooking something in the kitchen. She had these black rimmed glasses and a gold tooth . . . and the best hugs! Mom would let us walk down to the store a couple of blocks from her house . . . I can still taste the Slurpees we used to get!

Uncle Sam and Aunt Rosalind were generally on our route . . . just a little out of the way since they lived in the "big city" of Vidalia. Sam was really my mom's uncle, but they were so close in age, they were more like cousins . . . sometimes acting like brother and sister. Uncle Sam always had a smile on his face! Their kids, Craig and Keely were several years younger than me . . . Craig was at least 5 or 6 years behind me, and Keely was a toddler . . . but we still played . . . both of them were so cute!

We rarely missed a visit with Aunt Olivene and Aunt Minnie V . . . the hugs!! I wish I could remember all of their names. I just know we never stopped visiting!!

I miss visitin' (no "g" on the end in the south).

 "Our family is a circle of strength of love; with every birth and every union, the circle grows."

Hornworms and Tar

19 April 2017

My uncle James owned a farm in Georgia. Back in the 70's and 80's he grew a lot of tobacco . . . a LOT of tobacco. Smoking was a popular then . . . long before people really understood the damage it did to their lungs!

I spent two summers down there working side by side with my cousins . . . helping Uncle James in the tobacco fields. For him, we were pretty cheap labor, and we worked hard . . . for us kids, at least for me, payday was incredible, and we got to spend time together!

Aunt Gwenera had breakfast on the table right about sunrise, and we kids would file in groggily taking seats . . . eating enough to keep us going until dinnertime. Uncle James, who had already been out to the barn to get things ready, would be waiting in his pickup truck outside the house. Shoving last bites into our mouths, we'd all pile into the back of his truck (unless you were lucky enough to get the front seat) . . . some even sitting on the tailgate which was usually down . . . and head to the first field.

Sitting on that tailgate was the best! If your legs were long enough, you could drag your feet in the dirt . . . as long as you pulled them up once we hit asphalt. But there's not much asphalt in the country. Dangerous, no doubt, but we never thought about it . . . guess Uncle James didn't think about it much either . . . probably figured we'd learn a hard lesson if we fell out. I don't recall anyone ever falling out though.

Those mornings were the best! The air smelled of pine and pigs . . . red Georgia dirt . . . tasted like freedom.

The tobacco combine was always waiting patiently . . . like a dinosaur grazing before the hunt. It was a complicated piece of machinery . . . a behemoth. There were four seats that hung at plant level below the upper deck where the pickers would sit . . . two facing forward, two facing backward. In front of them, a conveyor belt would carry the stripped leaves, all turned one direction, to the packers topside. The packers would stack them as compactly as possible and put them into spiked tobacco racks. When racks were full, they'd be loaded up in the back of the truck to take to the drying barn.

I don't know if pictures of us exist, but this is sort of what the combine looked like

Harvesting tobacco in Georgia was different from harvesting it in Tennessee. Down there, you stripped the bottom leaves that were turning yellow, leaving the younger green ones at the top of the plant to grow a little more. Large fields could take a week or more to completely strip those plants. In Tennessee harvesters simply walked through the much smaller fields, cutting plants at their bases and turning them upside down creating teepee like structures with 3 or 4 other plants . . . left to dry in the fields. I always wondered about that.

This is tobacco harvesting in Tennessee

This isn't Uncle James' barn, or exactly how we racked it, but this gives you an idea of the way it was dried in Georgia

Tobacco crops carried their own brand of "dangers" too. First of all, we worked out in the hot, summer sun. Sunscreen was almost unheard of back then, so all of us kids wound up with sunburns . . . by the end of tobacco season though, we all looked like real farm kids, sporting farmer's tans. Tar was another issue! Tobacco leaves have this tar like substance on them that is sticky and black . . . not easily washed off . . . rubbing dirt on your hands helps, but not enough.

And then there are the worms!! Gahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!! Gigantic hornworms that feast on the leaves . . . one of the biggest reasons tobacco farmers work long hours getting their crops harvested. Most farmers spray the plants with pesticides, but I swear I think those worms just licked that stuff off! I don't know which was worse: being in one of the seats on the bottom where you were expected to get rid of the worms or being on the top deck and getting a half squished worm you had to toss! Mostly the boys threw them at the girls though. I was 15 . . . way past my bug-loving stage!

Hornworms are HUGE!!!

They're also "sort of" cute too

Dinnertime was a welcome relief in those days. We'd all pile back into Uncle James' truck and head for the house where Aunt Gwenera set a table FULL of fresh cooked vegetables and farm meat . . . beef roast, ham . . . always good. Tall glasses of sweet iced tea sweating as much as we were in the heat! Uncle James would join us at the table. He was always pretty quiet . . . listening to us kids go on and on about nothing! He'd finish up and wander out to the barn to take care of some other chore before we headed back to the field.

We'd work until late in the afternoon . . . when it started cooling off . . . ever so slightly. Returning to the house before dark, we had plenty of time for something fun. The pond offered sweet relief to our sunburned skin, and most of us headed for a dip. Sometimes there would be an ice cream churn waiting on the carport . . . we'd all take turns . . . happily churning away . . . the need for that first spoonful urgent! Fireflies sometimes filled the night are as the sun sank behind those tall Georgia pines, and we'd capture them in empty peanut butter jars . . . barefoot in the waning heat of the sand. Basketball games played under the light of the moon and one lone streetlight . . . 

. . . in the yard of that old Georgia farmhouse . . . 

. . . summer nights beside that dirt road were always the best.

And sleep ALWAYS came easy in the country to tired bones . . . the sound of frogs and crickets somewhere in the distance . . . cows mooing goodnight.

"Of all the paths you take, make sure some of them are dirt." ~ John Muir

Potty Mouth

18 April 2017

I CLEARLY remember my first attempt at using a curse word . . . can still feel my mother's wrath . . . taste the soap!

My father was a sailor, and that whole "cuss like a sailor" is a real thing . . . his language has been colorful to say the least. In addition to using every curse word under the sun, he's taken God's name in vain many times over the years. Jesus' name was used more often than not.

From the moment I learned to talk, there's no doubt that I repeated things he said, but my mom did her best to nip it in the bud by telling me "You can use your father as a bad example . . . do not use his words!" It worked for the most part.

I was about 7 . . . building something in my dad's shop out back . . . probably my "Ladybug Circus." See, I had this great plan to build a place for my collection of ladybugs to play . . . I loved bugs and lizards back then . . . not so much today . . . but back then I wanted to be a boy . . . do boy things! I'd strung string between two wooden dowel towers . . . for the high-wire act. I built a see-saw . . . for the . . . I have no idea why I built that! There was a circular pen for ladybug tamers. Oh, I had plans alright!

I was trying to hammer a nail into a piece of wood when it happened! The hammer missed the nail and caught my finger . . . hard!

The first words out of my mouth were both of Jesus' names!! My finger went straight into my mouth . . . because sucking on wounds somehow made them less painful?!?!?

I have no idea where my mom came from . . . I never heard her! But suddenly I was on my tiptoes . . . her hand pulling me up by the collar of my shirt. She ushered me directly into the house . . . straight to the bathroom! Before I could get another word out, a bar of soap hit my tongue!

She never said a thing . . . just left me there in the bathroom . . . stunned!

I didn't do that again . . .

When the girls were little my go-to curse word was Jiminy Crickets. They thought it was hysterical and wanted curse words of their own. I gave them optional words, but neither one really used any (at least not in front of me).

My mother used only one . . . shit . . . that was her go-to when things got out of control. 

Oh, and that Ladybug Circus . . . yeah, it didn't work out very well . . . they kept flying away.

 "Under certain circumstances, profanity provides a relief denied even in prayer." ~ Mark Twain