It's Been a Year

12 November 2017

Grumpy, Auntie M, and I made our way down to South Georgia yesterday to take Grammy's ashes to her final resting place . . .

Funny thing about death . . . there's really not much "planning" involved. About the only way you can plan ahead is to make your wishes known about what should happen after the eventuality of your death: choosing between burial, cremation, or donating your body for scientific study.

I read a book years ago: Annie Freeman's Fabulous Traveling Funeral. Yeah, I know, how can a funeral be "traveling" . . . much less "fabulous?" Well, Annie Freeman was determined to make hers both! Here's a synopsis of that story:

I actually thought about donating my body to science, and there are several places that take bodies. One of those places happens to be The Body Farm on the UT campus in Knoxville where they study decomposition to help doctors, scientists, and criminologists in their line of work. Turns out, that thought didn't last long at all . . . who wants to sit out in the elements while people come poke and prod you?!?!?

Since I started my education in pre-med, I even thought about donating it to a medical school so medical students could study the intricacies of what makes a human body work. But as I listened to medical students discuss their studies, I decided I couldn't lay on a cold table while they poked and prodded either. Besides, I don't have any unusual diseases that might be of interest!

That left cremation because the thought of being buried just seems so morbid. After all, once your soul leaves your body, what's left? It's just a vessel . . . an imperfect shell. I believe I'm going to Heaven, and the Bible promises a new body, free from pain and suffering; you'll find that passage in 2 Corinthians.

I also know I want my ashes spread in two separate places . . . Annie chose more than that, and her friends honored her request. Part of me belongs in Santa Fe, NM . . . a place I've always wanted to live. I figure if I never get to actually live there, at least I'll wind up there. The other part of my belongs in Spain . . . the Mediterranean coast . . . where some of my happiest childhood memories were built . . . another place I'd love to live again.

I hope that my girls will honor that request, but once I'm gone, I suppose it doesn't really matter, does it?

So that brings us back to how we decided where Grammy should go. She chose cremation, but she never gave us any instruction on what to do with her once that was completed. After a very lengthy discussion, the only place that Grumpy felt was going to be right was to take her back to the one place she loved the most . . . and she loved going to school . . . in her childhood home . . . in South Georgia.

At first we were a little dumbstruck about how to accomplish this since doing ANYTHING on school grounds requires permission from someone of importance! My cousin Karl advised against it . . . cameras now record everything . . . we could be arrested for trespassing!!

Happenstance changed it all . . . seems the original location of the school (the school had been torn down years before and a football stadium was built) was turned into a public park earlier this year. I guess it's a good thing it took us so long to make the trek . . . timing is everything. We all thought that would have made her happy . . . to know that she was "home."

2 Corinthians 5:1-10

5 For we know that when this earthly tent we live in is taken down (that is, when we die and leave this earthly body), we will have a house in heaven, an eternal body made for us by God himself and not by human hands. ² We grow weary in our present bodies, and we long to put on our heavenly bodies like new clothing. ³ For we will put on heavenly bodies; we will not be spirits without bodies.^[a] 4 While we live in these earthly bodies, we groan and sigh, but it’s not that we want to die and get rid of these bodies that clothe us. Rather, we want to put on our new bodies so that these dying bodies will be swallowed up by life. ⁵ God himself has prepared us for this, and as a guarantee he has given us his Holy Spirit.

⁶ So we are always confident, even though we know that as long as we live in these bodies we are not at home with the Lord. ⁷ For we live by believing and not by seeing. ⁸ Yes, we are fully confident, and we would rather be away from these earthly bodies, for then we will be at home with the Lord. ⁹ So whether we are here in this body or away from this body, our goal is to please him. ¹⁰ For we must all stand before Christ to be judged. We will each receive whatever we deserve for the good or evil we have done in this earthly body.

Sunday Funnies

2 July 2017

It's hard to get a good read on your Great Grumpy . . . sometimes he comes straight out of left field!

I know he's been missing your Great Grammy more than usual lately, and no doubt, when 9:00pm rolls around on any given day, it probably gets just a little bit worse. From the time she moved to NHC in Knoxville until she died, he called her no less than once a day . . . usually at 9:00 in the evening. The conversations rarely lasted more than a few minutes, but it was their way of staying connected . . . even with the 140+ miles that separated them. The calls were generally of little consequence . . . a few words about their day . . . likely some anecdotal story from him . . . and a brief "I love you" to close it up.

This morning he called me to say he'd found Mom in the Sunday Funnies . . . said it summed up nearly every conversation they'd ever had:

Mom certainly had the "Cochran" gift of gab . . . Dad wasn't a really great listener, but he tried. Something you need to do: learn to listen!!

"God gave us mouths that close and ears that stay open . . . that should tell us something!" 

~ Anonymous

I Do Not Like Them Sam-I-Am

10 June 2017

Green Eggs and Ham by Dr Seuss was another book I loved. That man was a genius . . . with his highly imaginative rhymes and colorful illustrations . . . loved by children around the world!

I always wanted to sample green eggs and ham . . . never understood the Cat in the Hat's aversion to them. Okay, maybe not the ham, that's a little disgusting, but green eggs would be kind of cool.

My sister and I were also Girl Scouts back in the day . . . when we lived in Spain. Girl Scouts wore green uniforms.

During the summer, we got to go to a Girl Scout day camp . . . Camp Columbus . . . where we learned all sorts of skills . . . like cooking on a homemade grill created from a coffee can!

How are those things related? More importantly, is there a point?

Hang on . . . I'll get there!

So Mom was gone one weekend . . . bowling . . . left us alone with Dad. I write this with a smirk on my face because the few times Mom left us alone with Dad were the times we got away with most anything! Dads, in our time, pretty much left non-mom, non-supervised kids to their own devices.

I'm sure that Mom left him explicit instructions about food, but we weren't that hard to actually feed if there were SpaghettiOs in the house. Open the can . . . pour them into a pot on the stove (even quicker when the microwave found its way to our house) . . . heat them up . . . divide them into bowls . . . hand us spoons. We LIVED on SpaghettiOs!





I think about that now and cringe . . . 

One evening, however, Dad decided to actually fix dinner the old fashioned way . . . from scratch! Taking inspiration from Dr Seuss and the Girl Scouts, he whipped up some "Girl-Scout-camping-out-in-the-woods-at-Camp-Columbus" green hamburgers. Now green ham is one thing . . . but green hamburgers?!?!?! Looked like the hamburger meat had molded or something!

He made us EAT them!!!!!

I do hope you grow up and learn to love food in general . . . there's so much good stuff in the world!

I've read that book a million times . . . read it to my girls . . . no doubt to you as well. I never made them green eggs and ham, but then, they never asked me to. I did, however, color and cut biscuits for the holidays: blue snowflakes in January, red hearts in February, green shamrocks in March, yellow eggs in April. I've even put food dye in mashed potatoes, and made colorful deviled eggs at Easter.

"Learn something new. Try something different. Convince yourself that you have no limits."
~ Brian Tracy

You know, at the end of that book, Green Eggs and Ham, the Cat did discover he actually liked them . . . 

4 Generations

4 June 2017

Your Great Grumpy came back to Knoxville with me and The Captain last weekend, and we managed to get a picture of the four generations: Grumpy, me, your mom, and you . . . 

I truly wish that we'd gotten one of your Great Grammy as well, but we never had the chance.

Every time I hear the word "generation," I'm reminded of that song by Mike and the Mechanics . . . it's an 80's tune of course . . . 

"Every generation
Blames the one before
And all of their frustrations
Come beating on your door

I know that I'm a prisoner
To all my Father held so dear
I know that I'm a hostage
To all his hopes and fears

I just wish I could have told him in the living years

Oh, crumpled bits of paper
Filled with imperfect thought
Stilted conversations
I'm afraid that's all we've got

You say you just don't see it
He says it's perfect sense
You just can't get agreement
In this present tense
We all talk a different language
Talking in defense

Say it loud (say it loud), say it clear (oh say it clear)
You can listen as well as you hear
It's too late (it's too late) when we die (oh when we die)
To admit we don't see eye to eye

So we open up a quarrel
Between the present and the past
We only sacrifice the future
It's the bitterness that lasts

So don't yield to the fortunes
You sometimes see as fate
It may have a new perspective
On a different day
And if you don't give up, and don't give in
You may just be okay

So say it loud, say it clear (oh say it clear)
You can listen as well as you hear
Because it's too late, it's too late (it's too late) when we die (oh when we die)
To admit we don't see eye to eye

I wasn't there that morning
When my Father passed away
I didn't get to tell him
All the things I had to say

I think I caught his spirit
Later that same year
I'm sure I heard his echo
In my baby's new born tears

I just wish I could have told him in the living years

Say it loud, say it clear (oh say it clear)
You can listen as well as you hear
It's too late (it's too late) when we die (it's too late when we die)
To admit we don't see eye to eye

So say it, say it, say it loud (say it loud)
Say it clear (come on say it clear)"

Great Grumpy, War Rations, and World War II

2 June 2017

World War II . . . 

. . . it defined a generation . . . 

. . . the one they call "The Greatest Generation."

Your Great Grumpy was almost 5 when the United States was pulled into that war . . . and by pulled, I mean Japan sealed the deal when they hit Pearl Harbor!

Did you know, for instance, that an American was shot down while delivering an airplane to the Chinese Air Force in 1932? 2nd Lt Robert Short was killed in action over Shanghai 9 years before the Japanese hit our islands.

November 1937 . . . the American tugboat Felting was seized by the Japanese in Shanghai. They threw the US Flag overboard and tore off a wooden plaque, using it to strike a Chinese crewman.

Military atache' Cpt Robert Losey was killed by the Germans in Norway while he was assisting with the evacuation of US Embassy personnel to Sweden.

So we did have "interest" in that war before being drawn into it.

So what's that got to do with Great Grumpy?

Well, during the war, lots of things were rationed.

In the summer of 1941 . . . before Japanese bombers hit Pearl Harbor so were really weren't "in it" yet . . . the British asked America to conserve food so we could help provide their forces with something to eat. They also warned us about potential shortages in gasoline, steel, aluminum, and electricity. The US established a rationing system after the attack on Pearl Harbor.

In 1942 everyone in America began receiving War Ration Books, and every member of the family was issued one . . . even the babies who qualified for canned milk! Each book had stamps that you traded in for any goods being rationed. You ran out of stamps . . . you ran out of the ability to purchase what you needed . . . simple as that.

So what was rationed? Well, tires were the first . . . on December 11, 1941 a temporary ban on sales was ordered . . . there was a shortage of rubber. On January 1, 1942 it was automobiles . . . only certain professions such a doctors were permitted to purchase new cars. Those factories that produced cars were now producing tanks, aircraft, and weapons. In March of 1942, dog food could no longer be sole in tin cans, so dehydrated versions of dog food was produced. After May, you could no longer buy typewriters or bicycles. By June, manufacturing had stopped on office furniture, radios, refrigerators, vacuum cleaners, washing machines, and sewing machines.

And then, holy cow, in April, sugar sales were halted completed . . . resumed in May . . . allowing only 1/2 pound per person per week. Coffee drinkers were stunned in November as that was also rationed to 1 pound every five weeks.

The coffee ration would have put a dent in my world!!

 






It was the sugar ration that got your Great Grumpy though. Limited sugar meant limited candies and other sweets. Local stores, where one there were barrels full of different confections, got rare shipments of candy and gum. Dubble Bubble was a kid favorite . . . a huge wad of pink goodness . . . and a color comic strip to boot . . . Fleer Funnies "Dub and Bub."

And money was short . . .

It was a huge event when the grocery store received a shipment of candy . . . the word spread like wildfire . . . kids dug for pennies and scrambled to be first in line!!! Of course, when you have a dozen pieces of gum come in and 3 times as many kids, you have trouble!

There may have been some tussles over the gum, but some of the kids would actually share. Grumpy likes to tell the story about one of his buddies who always had money and was always first in line.

I don't recall his name, so we'll just call him Bobby. So, Bobby would get his piece of gum (they could only get one you know), and he would rip it open . . . being careful not to tear the comic . . . pop that little pink rectangle in his mouth immediately . . . smile spreading across his face as the sugar melted onto his tongue. He'd immediately read the comic aloud and then pass that around. Then he'd walk off . . . chewing happily . . . until all of the taste was gone from that piece of gum. Sometimes Bobby would just go home and keep the gum all to himself . . . probably leaving it stuck to his bedpost overnight. But occasionally . . . occasionally . . . Bobby would tear that now tasteless piece of chewed gum in half and give it to another kid who'd toss it in his mouth and chew for a while . . . then he'd hand it off to someone else. Grumpy said, though, that almost always by the time it got to him, ALL flavor was gone. He didn't care. He was simply happy to have gum!

Funny isn't it . . . the things we do for the love of something?

"He who would accomplish little would sacrifice little

He who would achieve much must sacrifice much;

He who would attain highly must sacrifice greatly."  ~ James Allen

It's a Bowling Ball You Idiot

12 May 2017

Speaking of "fiascos" concerning security . . . your Great Grammy 'bout got herself in a peck of trouble one time! Thankfully the incident occurred Pre 9/11, or we'd probably have been visiting her in prison!

Your Great Grammy was an avid bowler . . . the passion she had for it was unmatched in anything else I ever knew her to do! There were times when my sister, father, and I felt like second class citizens in her world . . . not really . . . but yeah, sort of! She bowled on several teams while we were in Spain, and traveled quite a bit with her teammates all over that country . . . to other bases . . . for tournaments.

I don't remember her ever bowling while we lived in Georgia . . . I'm not sure that small town we lived in even had a bowling alley, but when we moved to Tennessee, she found a group of like-minded women who bowled on teams. I think she bowled like 2-3 times per week. She was pretty good too.

Soon the travel started . . . to all four corners of the US . . . places in between. Sometimes they drove; sometimes they flew. But distance alone did not determine the mode of transportation.

This particular trip, I'm not certain where they were going, but it involved traveling by plane. Airport security has always been pretty tight, but it wasn't quite as tight prior to that horrific day in 2001. You still had to put your bag through the x-ray machine and remove all the metal from your body before going through the metal detectors, but I'd been on a plane from Mexico to Miami once where two guys carried swords they'd purchased as souvenirs right on board.

There were probably 5 or 6 women in this group that was going bowling, and each one of them was carrying on their bowling bag. Back then even bowling balls were allowed on airplanes . . . they'd probably consider them weapons today! Mom was last in line, so she was confident that  security would just wave her through as one of that crowd. She put her bag on the conveyor belt, and when it got to the x-ray machine, the security guard stopped it. Someone asked her what was in her bag.

"What do you think it is? A bomb?" was her reply, in a tone dripping with sarcasm.

Bad choice Mom!

They pulled her aside, grabbed her bags, and led her off to the side where they questioned her thoroughly before finally letting her go . . . assured after a lengthy search that she was not a serious threat! We thought she got of pretty easily.

Funny thing, every time she told that story, she'd get a little indignant . . . about the audacity of those security people to question what was in her bag since all of the bowlers were traveling together . . . all carried the same thing.

We'd just shake our heads and say, "Mom, you know you can't say 'bomb' in the airport!"

Again . . . thankfully she didn't pull this stunt after 9/11 . . . who knows what they would have done! Pretty sure she would have, at the least, made the "No Fly List."

 

 

Your Great Grammy Loved Tom T Hall

7 May 2017

I grew up listening to music my parents loved: Tammy Wynette, Loretta Lynn, Conway Twitty, Skeeter Davis, Jimmy Dean, Roger Miller, Ferlin Husky . . . country artists who ruled the charts back then. I don't mind today's country music, but given a choice, I'd listen to these old school singers. They were good . . . most of their songs composed in story form.

One artist stands out, however, as "The Storyteller!" Tom T Hall was a master at his craft.

I couldn't tell you her favorite song by Tom, but I guarantee Old Dogs, Children, and Watermelon Wine ranked pretty high. I'd have to say this is probably one of MY more favorite tunes by him. We could all learn a lot from the lyrics:

"How old do you think I am?" he said.
I said, well, I didn't know.
He said, "I turned 65 about 11 months ago."

I was sittin' in Miami pourin' blended whiskey down
When this old gray black gentleman was cleanin' up the lounge

There wasn't anyone around 'cept this old man and me
The guy who ran the bar was watchin' "ironsides" on tv
Uninvited, he sat down and opened up his mind
On old dogs and children and watermelon wine

"Ever had a drink of watermelon wine?" he asked
He told me all about it, though I didn't answer back
"Ain't but three things in this world that's worth a solitary dime,
But old dogs and children and watermelon wine."

He said, "Women think about they-selves, when menfolk ain't around.
And friends are hard to find when they discover that you're down."
He said, "I tried it all when I was young and in my natural prime;
Now it's old dogs and children and watermelon wine."

"Old dogs care about you even when you make mistakes;
God bless little children while they're still too young to hate."
When he moved away I found my pen and copied down that line
'Bout old dogs and children and watermelon wine.

I had to catch a plane up to Atlanta that next day
As I left for my room I saw him pickin' up my change
That night I dreamed in peaceful sleep of shady summertime
Of old dogs and children and watermelon wine.