How to Share Another's Story

For 20 years now I've wanted to not only share my grandmother's story, but to also do it justice. At long last I finally decided to put it forth, mostly as Nanny wrote it down for me, (frontseatimages.blogspot.com/2016/06/bess-eileen.html) but with a few thoughts of my own here and there. But what is to follow is really only the top layer, there was still so much more she shared, but I know there was so much left unwritten.

So this is where I'll begin her the story of her life.

The photo above was taken of this beautiful lady for her high school graduation in 1934. It's hard to imagine that she would be a mother in a little more than 2 years and settled into a life of normalcy. How she had the fortitude to keep going was up until now, hard for me to understand. But now I see that her will to not let circumstance get in the way of her dreams most likely came from her grandparents who raised her.

On January, 1, 1917, they lost their oldest daughter, (Nellie, my great-grandmother) when Nanny was only an infant. On July 5, of the same year, their 4th born died at the age of 21. In six years they would lose another daughter, Bessie at the age of 28.

Perhaps it was common to lose immediate family members due to illness at that time, but it still had to have been devastating. On top of it all, they found themselves raising their granddaughter. Nanny's dad took the two sons who were older than my grandmother and moved to Tulsa where his parents had moved at an earlier point in time.

From Nanny's account her early childhood was just like most other kids her age. I get the impression her grandmother, whom she called Mama, was a no nonsense lady, but who also provided a loving environment.

"My folks had made the smokehouse into a playhouse for me.  They were always doing something nice for me. I had a lot of dolls.  I had a 2 wheel scooter, tricycle, ukulele, violin.  I also took piano lessons.  At night when we had nothing else to do especially in winter, we played a card game called Flinch.

We raised chickens and ducks.  I had a pet chicken, also a duck.  They would let me carry them around.  Don't remember what I named them. 

I remember one time Mama came to school - maybe I was in 2nd or 3rd grade to tell the teacher to let me use my left hand to write.  She was trying to make me write with my right hand.  One girl that was left handed - teacher did her the same way and she got where she couldn't write with either hand.

Christmas time was very exciting for me.  We would string cranberries and popcorn for decorations for the tree.  We made all our decorations. She would make all kinds of candy.  Sure was good."

Unfortunately it would all come to an end when Nanny's grandfather, Papa, passed away from stomach cancer when she was 11-years-old. Two years after his death, Mama married Mr. Harris. Mr. Harris had lost his wife, and prior to this, both couples were good friends.

Below is the next few years as Nanny wrote it down.

"We moved to the farm where he lived. All we took at the time was some clothes and a few other things. Planning on getting more of our stuff later on. One Sunday night about 3 weeks after their marriage - we were playing cards and Mama had a spell with her gallbladder. He wouldn't let me call the doctor. His daughter was supposed to be taking care of her while I was in school.

Anyway after Mama died (Nov '29) her casket and body was in their parlor. Mama was hardly cold and Mr. Harris was worried for fear I'd have to stay there. Mama's youngest sister, Aunt Mary, said I could live with her for awhile. She wasn't in very good health, besides they'd never had children. I was in a play at church, had to practice quite a bit in late evening. Me being 13, I couldn't just sit down and not go anywhere. 

After Christmas I went to Holt, Michigan to live with my Aunt Chloe Delle and family. They had 3 boys and lived in a little 4 room house. I lived with them and went to school (3rd school for 8th grade for me that year).

After I finished that year my Aunt said I'd have to find somewhere else to live as they just didn't have the room. So one July day I took off for Mason. It was 5 miles from Holt - I walked all the way. 

First house I came to they raised baby chickens. I asked them if they could use help in wintertime. So I had a place to stay and work for my room and board and go to school.  Their last name was Zimmerman. They had 2 girls, older one's name was Mary and the other, Ann. 

To make a long story short. All except the man and myself came down with Scarlet Fever - so I had them to take care of and I couldn't go to school because of what they had. I was out for six weeks. They were afraid I"d come down with it - then they'd have to take care of me - but the Good Lord had other plans for me. I guess, as I didn't take it. Believe it or not, I was able to catch up my school work as I was in the 9th grade.

The next year I found a place closer in to school. Her name was Effie Hawn - an ole maid. Had worked at the Ford place for years. I stayed each school year with her until I graduated. I'd work in the summer time and save my money so I could go to school the next year. Sometimes someone would give me some clothes. In those days we had to buy our books. I always had to buy used ones - that was o.k. I usually got $3 a week and room and board. It was keeping house for folks and taking care of children."

Nanny forged on until she graduated high school.

"...I decided it was time to meet my Dad and Donald (her brother). I was 18 – Had been on my own more or less since I was 13 – so this new adventure was just another path I was taking.

The name of the train was “the Scout”, it was on the Santa Fe. Best I remember it took 2 days and 2 nights to get to Borger, Texas. My, what a desolate country – could see for miles - very few trees. My stepmother, Bessie, and her sister–in-law were at the station to meet me. When I saw her I wondered what I’d gotten into. I was ready to go back to Michigan and would have if I’d had the money. We went to the house – no screens on the windows and no screened doors. I had some real nice clothes when I came out here. Dad came home from work that evening. He looked a little better than Bessie. Then Donald and his wife Billie came that evening – they looked like my kind of people. Was so blue though, felt like I’d made a big mistake."

The main source of jobs in Borger, Texas was from the oil industry, with the first successful oil drill occurring in the early 1920's. This drew a a large contingent of people who were either directly involved in the oil industry, like my grandfather who was an oil truck driver, and of course Nanny's father who had been involved for many years in the up and coming industry. This drove the creation of many other jobs created from oil boom, mainly restaurants, hotels, etc.

For the next several months, through many ups and downs and a handful of moves within Borger, Nanny worked various jobs, mostly cleaning and eventually taking in clothes for washing and ironing

"There was a man that lived in the end apt that needed someone to do his laundry and got the tub and rub board for my pay.  Oh yes I got 2 flat irons also, the kind that you put on the stove to heat. 

Then I found out there was an opening for a maid at the hotel.  So I had it made for a while as I got my room – (which wasn’t much and it was very small, think it had been a storage room) plus salary besides working in the dining room for my 3 meals each day.

That is where I met my “sweetie”.  He ate at the dining room and had a room in the hotel.  He was a truck driver for J. A. Robinson Oil field trucking company.

I didn’t seem to be able to make ends meet so I rented a small 2 room apt upstairs about a block from the hotel.  I went into the laundry business.  Had no electricity, just gas and gas lights and had to carry water from across the hall from the bathroom.    I had plenty of laundry to do as the guys at the hotel were glad for someone to do their clothes.  Some of the worked at the carbon black plant - it was a chore to get their clothes clean, but I did.   Still had my wash tub and rub board and flat irons.  I’d boil the clothes in the tub on the stove – yes, I was still at the dining room and doing maid work at the hotel.  Had to dry the clothes in the apt.  I’d get up at 4:00 and either do washing or the ironing till time to go to work.  Then do whichever needed doing when I’d get home of an afternoon.  Yes I did Pappy’s laundry too.  He brought me  pair of house shoes one time.  Felt sorry for me as I’d get so tired.

Don’t remember how long I worked that way before Pappy asked me to marry him.  (We had gone together for 6 months).  Guess what?  I said yes as I thought he was the greatest guy I’d ever met.

We were married on Thursday night Jan. 30,1936, at the Methodist parsonage.  My boss at the hotel and her husband went with us as our witness.  She let us use her wedding ring as we didn’t have one then.  After our wedding, Tommy and I went to a café we were familiar with to eat supper.

Back at the hotel he gave me $5.00 that was half of what he had.  He told me to go to town the next day and buy me a wedding ring.  Believe it or not, I found one for $5.  I had spent my money for a real pretty blue wedding dress.  Nothing fancy.  Could be work anytime – in fact I’d waer it when we’d go to church."

So this was essentially the end of what Nanny shared with me, telling me she just couldn't write any more down. My sense after reading it all was that of sadness. She was in her 50's when she lost Pappy to a heart attack. Not surprising, as he'd long suffered from a poor heart. So with that said, I'll leave you all with these pictures shared by my dad, Tommy (Jr.) and my Aunt Mirtie.

Nanny and Pappy with their first born, and the ultimate pride, the motorcycle, with a sidecar!

Nanny, with her first born sporting an awesome hat, while she's holding her second born. So much pride! I'd love to know more about the other ladies. Did they all stay in Borger, Texas, or move to Amarillo like my family did?

A must have for everyone, the family photo for the church directory. Not sure why Daddy looks so terrified!

And finally, at her 80th birthday party. I once asked her if she dyed her hair and she assured me she did not. My cousin, Pam, who is a hair stylist, confirmed this! We should all be lucky!

We laid her to rest along side her "sweetie" in November, 1999, back in their "hometown" of Amarillo. She was widowed too soon, at only 56 years of age, part of the hazard of marrying a man 14 years older. In the end she amassed so many friends, and those she considered "family", as in her own life there were so many who accepted her as "family". How much I love this lady!!!

Bess Eileen

June 15, 2016, marks the 100th anniversary of this lady's birth.  This lady who my brothers and my cousins called "Nanny", the mother of my father and his sister. This particular picture was taken at her 80th birthday party and has long been one of my favorites.

Even though we'd always had the traditional grandmother/grandchild relationship, as in she freely gave hugs and kisses and laughs, and of course fed us whenever and whatever we wanted, it wasn't until I was in my thirties that I learned of the incredible journey that brought her to Texas.

As far as I knew, seeing as how my life began in Amarillo, as did my parents, my entire family came from the Texas Panhandle. I later found out my paternal grandfather came to Texas from Colorado to work in the oilfields. My maternal grandfather was from Oklahoma, but the rest of us were certainly tried and true Texans, which of course included Nanny, or so I thought, as her brother lived in Texas as well.

Her story unfolded to me when I gave her a call one Saturday afternoon just to chat.

"Hi, Nanny, what are you up to?"

"Watching basketball."

"I didn't know you like basketball.  Who's playing?"

This is where it takes a turn.  The game being played was Michigan State against a Texas team, and come to find out she was cheering for MSU.

"Really, Why?"

"I used to live there, right outside of Lansing."

What?!?!  Not my native-Texan grandmother! I then found out that not only had she lived in Michigan, she was born and spent her early years in Ohio.

At this point I realized there was much I didn't know about her. I don't think that's too uncommon given the generations and the typical roles that are played, but now I wanted to know more, so I asked her to write about her life growing up.

I wasn't prepared for the incredible trials Nanny had faced growing up. From my perspective, there wasn't one single indication of her hardships.  She was always quick to laugh and quick to love. From what I recall she used to work in a hospital-like setting while in Amarillo, but not in a medical capacity. Instead, she cleaned the floors, doing what she'd done for years, whatever it took to make ends meet.

For now, I'll leave you all with her opening paragraphs.

"Sunday, June 15, 1916 at 6 am on a farm in Henry Township, Wood Co. Ohio, a baby girl was born to Roy and Nellie McCrory.  I was the 3rd child born to this union.

Donald Herbert, age 4 and Forrest Elroy, age 2 were my brothers.  Dr. Spitler, with the help of Mrs. Givens, delivered me.  Mrs. Givens had been helping my mother for quite a while as she was ill with T.B.

This Sunday was the day of the Foltz reunion.  (Don't know who made the announcement about "me".)  Oh, by the way, I was named "Bess" after one of Mother's sisters.  "Eileen" was from a piece of sheet music called EILEEN.  It was an Irish song.  I had the sheet music for years.  There was a picture of a very pretty girl on the cover.  The name Eileen was printed in white letters on a green background.  Wish  I still had the music

Mother died Jan 1, 1917.  That was 3 days after her 26th birthday.  I don't know how soon after her death that her mother and father took me to raise as Dad and the 2 boys moved to Tulsa OK to live near his parents."

...to be continued!

Should Have Gone to Quebec!

Way back in 2009 I had plans to meet Susan and Sylvia in Quebec City, Quebec.  Being so close to the Canadian border I was really looking forward to the road trip. Right prior to this trip, I had the chance to tag along with Roger on a business trip to Chicago. We were in Chicago for three nights and all was going swimmingly well.  Until, and I do say, until, my hormones kicked in, the result of a hysterectomy 6 months earlier.

To avoid taking HRT I did research and found a drug that relieved the wicked bad hot flashes and mellowed out the crazy train that resulted from a complete hysterectomy.  (Google "complete hysterectomy/horror stories" and you should find my picture. Yeah, it isn't pretty.) I had taken the drug only once or twice before this time and could really tell I needed to get things into check. This is one of those medications that 100% must be "taken as directed". Long 3rd-night-in-Chicago story short, our final night, I was a complete mess. Because of this I was utterly exhausted and backed out on my road trip to Quebec.

Don't worry, all the embarrassing personal moments were in the paragraphs above.

So now I found myself at home with a couple of days off and itching to go somewhere, and while Quebec City seemed a life-time away, as in 6 hours, I chose instead to go to Stowe, Vermont, by my lonesome, less than 4 hours away.

Off in my new Wrangler I went! What a stunning drive!  Up I-93 through the White Mountains I headed north, then angled west and cruised back south into Stowe where the Green Mountains begin. Stowe is a big-time skiers destination, but in August, it's rather tranquil and very scenic. I arrived at the Green Mountain Inn, checked in, and found my room tucked away on the 2nd floor near the back of the inn.

The first night I went to dinner nearby, then headed back to the inn.  As it was still a bit early, and my room was quaint (super-tiny) I decided to go to the quaint (super-tiny) restaurant/bar in the inn. Initially I chose a small table for two, and while waiting for a waiter, I noticed a couple standing at the bar with only one available seat. So I offered up my table and we swapped spots.

Here's where the trouble slowly eeked itself out. To my left was an older, seemingly innocuous, man. Above his head was the Redsox game, so I was continually looking his direction watching the game. A friendly conversation struck up and before long I gave him a business card with the website of this blog.  The card also contained my cell phone number and email address.  I had also shared with him that I lived in Massachusetts and drove a Wrangler and that I worked at Tufts.

It was becoming apparent that this gentleman had grander aspirations than a chat at the bar as he offered to pay for my beer, which I declined.  He stepped away to the restroom and I quickly paid my tab. Upon his return he offered to "see me to my room", which I then told him I chose my room in the safe confines of the inn to avoid being out at night time, so no escort was necessary, but thank you very much, and off to my room I went, followed by the locking of every lock I could find and placement of a chair in front of the door.

I awoke to a stunning day.  Off in my Wrangler I went to explore.  Cruised by the ski trails, visited the Von Trapp Family lodge, yes, those Von Trapps from the "Sound of Music" and overall had a glorious time  I returned to my room around 4:00. Then, my cellphone rang.

I didn't recognize the number, so I didn't answer, but a message was left, from my wanna-be-paramour from the previous evening. He wanted to meet me AFTER dinner for drinks. I dropped the phone like a hot potato! Then, my cellphone rang again, from a differnt number.  Again, a message was left, from the same man.  At this point I'm 100% spooked. So here it is 4:30 in the afternoon so I head down to the restaurant to see if I can get room service later in the evening.  Because of the small setup they couldn't accommodate me. Then, I started crying, telling the bartender who was young enough to be my son about the older man from the night before and his phone calls. The bartender was VERY sympathetic, however, his hands were tied.  So off I go to find an early-bird dinner so I could be back in my room well before dark.

After my meal I stopped at a convenience store and loaded up with wine, cheese, crackers and nuts to take back to the room, as I knew I was going to have many hours ahead of me holed up in my room on what was an otherwise beautiful evening. Back at the inn I settled in for my evening which ended up consisting of watching Ted Kennedy's wake on C-SPAN and the Miss America Pageant on another channel (worse cable channels in the history of hotels) alternating crying and laughing.  During this, Roger called, which I simply told him I was in for evening and enjoying my quaint (super-tiny, becoming hellish) room!

The next day I drove home on rain swept highways. Once home, Roger and I laid on our bed and I started crying and told him about the entire episode.  He laughed and laughed and laughed!

On a final note, no more phone calls were received on my cell, but sure as heck there was a voice-mail on my work phone when I returned on Monday.  Lesson learned!

"If this is how my body is now, what will it be like in 10 years?"

Today I had my light bulb moment when I stumbled across Richard Cohen's blog. Richard is married to Meredith Vieira and was diagnosed ages ago with Multiple Sclerosis. And now, thanks to this post, "Importance of Staying Stubborn", I have a much better understanding of Roger.  Though we aren't faced with M/S, Roger does have issues that can affect his mobility. And thanks to Richard's post, I fully get Roger's "stubborness".  (Is that a word?!?!)   Either way, I ask that you please read Richard's post before continuing on with my entry.

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Awesome, thank for obliging me and now on to the purpose of my post.

Thanks to yet another ruptured disc (L1 this time), along with a very painful shoulder, Roger has been struggling in putting on his socks and shoes in the morning. This is actually nothing new, just currently made even more difficult at the moment due to very real injuries.

In my effort to help him out a bit, I found the aides (a nifty device to help you put on your socks and a super long shoe-horn) provided to him following his hip replacement and set them beside his shoes.  I had been encouraging him, as in nagging, to get them out himself, but when he didn't, I assumed he was simply forgetful. After a few days I told him I was happy that he was using the tools and noted how much easier it is to now accomplish what was a very difficult and painful task.  His response..."but I feel like I'm giving in".

This statement was completely lost on me. If you need help, get it!  Clearly I'm a Democrat at heart, but I digress. I told him he wasn't giving in, that he has a ruptured disc for heaven's sake. I've seen him flat on the floor before and was doing what I could to avoid that from happening again.

Back to his question. "If this is how my body is now, what will it be like in 10 years?" Roger posed this question to me just the other night.

I've allowed my mind to wander in that direction as well a time or two, but mostly in the functional sense.  A future home should be a single story and have a walk-in shower.  I need to be sure he has access to the best doctors like he currently has. I need to have a job that provides him with excellent health insurance. As far as the actual life-style aspect of the future, I rarely allow myself to think that far ahead and instead focus on what his capabilities are at the moment.

In the end, my response to him, which is 98% true, is that his body is only slightly the worse for wear than it was 10 years earlier, much of this due to the natural aging process.  But we know with Roger it's more than that.

Many years ago he was diagnosed with degenerative disc and bone disease. What this means is that over the course of our 24 year marriage he's had 4 back surgeries, rotator cuff surgery, and a hip replacement. (He's also had major surgery on his colon, but that's another story). His lower back is marred with scar tissue and arthritis. Soon he will need to have the left shoulder repaired as he is in intense pain right now, and the other hip is inevitable, but far from a current pressing matter. 

He's also had a nagging, sometimes screaming, wife yelling at him "to take it easy", "STOP THAT", "are you CRAZY"....on and on and on.

One thing I've known all along is that Roger's unwillingness to "give in" is what keeps his tired, arthritic body going. But more importantly, it's what keeps his spirit alive. He could have long ago just tossed in the towel, but he has absolutely refused.

I truly wish I could thank Richard Cohen personally for the openness and raw honesty that he shares with his readers, but for now I know I'll honor him by backing off Roger and letting him do things his way.  I'll suggest alternatives from time to time, but it's ultimately up to him to make the decision.

So 10 years from now I foresee a 71-year-old guy that has been through a lot mentally and physically, but will also still be a force to deal with, staying well ahead of his 64-year-old wife.  Oh, and he'll still have that wicked-fast sense of humor that also keeps me on my toes!

From Texas to Prince Edward Island, Canada

It didn't take us long after moving here to realize how close in proximity everything seemed to be and before long we were taking day trips here, there and everywhere, which eventually led to weekend getaways.  Mile after mile of coastal driving, the White Mountains, the lakes region, Vermont, the beginnings of Down East Maine (which is actually straight north, then bang a right), all within 2 hours of our home.

In 2005 we were taking a week long vacation and decided that would be the perfect time to go to Canada.  Eventually we would make two trips to Montreal, Quebec, but for our first foray we decided to head to Prince Edward Island, just off the coast of New Brunswick and Nova Scotia, about as far east as you can go by car (9+ hours away) without catching a ferry. On our return trip we planned a couple of evenings in Halifax, Nova Scotia, then a large ferry ride back to Maine.  1600 miles, 20 hours or more driving, not a weekend get away for sure!

But, back to Prince Edward Island (PEI as it's more commonly known) and back to the picture above.

While researching our trip I started pulling up online images of Prince Edward Island in order to get a sense of what would look like.  It was at this time that our picture popped up!  The exact same picture I bought Roger when in the hospital in Dallas before we even had the slightest inkling of moving anywhere.

So I started doing research and found the artist was Sandy Wadlington who lives in New Hampshire, though her profile noted that she had spent time in Texas as well.  Not having an actual address, but finding the town where she lived was quite small, I sent her a letter with nothing but her name and the town and sure enough, it made its way to her and eventually I received an email from her.

In my letter I told her how we ended up with a poster of one of her pieces and was hoping she could tell me where that specific scene was on PEI. It so happened that her original painting was from a photograph taken by her brother, but she herself had never been there.  She was kind enough to ask him if he recalled the location, and he in turn drew out a map of where he thought the photo was taken.  We were never able to find the exact spot, as we think it was on private land, but we sure had fun driving the area trying to find it.

In the end though, Roger and I were both amazed at this entire "coincidence".  Not having a single notion of moving in 1996, other than perhaps to a different neighborhood, then, due solely to the close proximity of our new home, to end up planning a vacation on PEI where our picture was based.  A picture that signified to us a very scary moment in time, but a picture that offered us both a scene of serenity and calm.

I still ask myself, "how in the world did this all fall into place"?

Part 1 of this story can be found here:  http://frontseatimages.blogspot.com/2015/01/i-call-it-kismet.html

Must Have Been Kismet!

Click the photo for a better view!

One of the harder stories to relate to others, be it family, friends or acquaintances, is how Roger and I came to the decision to move from Dallas, Texas to New England.  The story is difficult because it all just sort of happened, but deep down inside, though my heart was full with friends and family, the endless concrete of Dallas was stripping at my soul and spirit.  So in the fall of 1999, a random thought was spoken out loud, which lead to a larger conversation, not in a gripping sort of way, but in a meandering, what-if kind of way.  Where would we move? Near the ocean, of course!  Okay, Atlantic or Pacific?  North or South? Up until this point we'd only thought of perhaps moving to a different house in the same neighborhood. 

 

At the time I was working for a telecom company with offices on both sides of the continent, so a quick check of temperatures in Miami quickly eliminated a move Southeast.  A quick check of West Coast home prices quickly eliminated a move to California, unless you enjoy living in a trailer that is.  Then a sort of AHA moment. Boston!  It’s on the water, my company had offices there, we have family there.  Boston it is!  Seriously, it happened that quickly.  The tip-toe into the water came when our friend, Juanna, agreed to fly with me to Boston just to have a look around.  It was the week between Christmas and New Years and baby was it cold!  It was a quick trip just to get a glimpse and that’s pretty much all we got, but it certainly fueled the fire.

Next thing we know, Roger and I have a map of the Boston area spread out on our pool table.  Let’s see, Nortel (my former employer) is located in Billerica, northwest of Boston.  Here’s the ocean.  Let’s start right in between the two. Roger began calling the chamber of commerce of various towns just to have a chat.  Out of this came the decision that we’d move to Haverhill.  Had we ever been there?  No.  Had we even been to Boston or anywhere near it?  Other than my brief trip, no. Didn’t matter, this was the plan!

All along, the picture above had been hanging in our home for about 3 years. This was actually a poster that I purchased when Roger was very ill and in the hospital.  He’d been in the hospital so long that I decided we needed to decorate. I came across this picture and was instantly drawn to the soothing colors and pastoral waterfront scene. I brought it to the hospital and tacked it to the wall. After extensive surgery, resulting in a foot-long scar down his abdomen, he finally came home. We were so happy that he was finally coming home that we took the poster and had it framed.  This picture will come into play again in 2004.

Our next step was to book an actual vacation so we could really check out the area, and, to buy a home.  Yep, we flew into Boston the last week of June, 2000 for the sole purpose of buying a house in Haverhill, Massachusetts. We also took in a Redsox game, got horribly lost several times over our five day stay, but still we were undeterred. 

 

The next couple of days we spent with a realtor with whom we had connected with prior to our trip.  Within 48 hours we found our new home!  Also within that same time period we happened to pick up a local paper with a job listing for Roger.  A quick phone call, followed by an interview and job offer while I sat in the parking lot. 

Click, click, click…one by one all was falling into place.  Our home in Richardson sold lickety-split and on Labor Day weekend, less than 1 year from the initial “conversation”, with 2 dogs, 1 cat and both vehicles, we were moved into our new-to-us home that was built in 1900.

Part 2 is here:  http://frontseatimages.blogspot.com/2015/03/from-texas-to-prince-edward-island.html

Books, Books and MORE Books

Books...so very many books awaiting my attention.  I have the actual "hold in your hands and read 'em" books, and of course, books stashed in my kindle, which begs the question, if it's downloaded is it a "book" or a simply a collection of written words?

I actually have James Michener's "Chesapeake" in both versions, as the original tome is so large (published in approximately 8 pt type) that I added it to my Kindle as well so I'd have more opportunities to traipse through 370 years of history.  Having started reading the book back in June, 2014, in anticipation of a September trip to the Chesapeake Bay area, I'm happy to report that almost 7 months later I am now in 1938. Whew!!!  Only 40 years to go!

"Chesapeake" by James Michener

I find it interesting that the past year or so I've leaned towards books on Black history (Chesapeake resulted in this category); and Female Comedians, having read the biographies of Tina Fey, Mindy Kaling and the most awesome, Carol Burnett.  I'm doing my best to hold off on downloading Amy Poehler's book and so far so good.  As an aside, I also read BJ Novak's "One More Thing: Stories and Other Stories".  Some of his stories are pure genius and others just simply make you wonder.

However, back to what's waiting to be read.  I'm listing them here to see how long it takes me to whittle the list down, but considering that I now want to download, or buy, "Unbroken", and the fact that I'm still reading "Chesapeake", I'm more guessing that this will be a rather fluid list. 

In no particular order, currently on my Kindle:

1.  The Custom of the Country - Edith Wharton:  I read that this is being made into a movie so I wanted to read the book before hand, which implies that I'd actually go see the movie, which I rarely go see any movie, except for Bad Santa, now THAT was a good movie!

2.  The Path to Power:  The Years of Lyndon Johnson - Robert Caro:  As a Texan, I owe it to my heritage to know all about LBJ.

3.  The Elements of Style - Strunk & Strunk:  a book on writing.  Which I should probably refer to at this very moment to determine if I should be ending my numbered entries with a period or not.

4.  Wolf Hall - Hilary Mantel

5.  Bring up the Bodies:  A Novel - Hilary Mantel:  for some reason I was compelled to download both books.

6.  Tita - Marie Houzelle:  based in France, 'nuf said.

7.  People Skills - Robert Boulton:  according to Kindle I've read 19% of this book.  You'll see similar books like this as I saw my career crashing down around my ears, so I figure it must be a personal flaw. Right? Certainly it's not the fault of the establishment to see a sudden halt to what was originally an upwards projectory.  Right??

8.  Crucial Conversations: Tools for Talking When Stakes Are High - Patterson & Grenny:  This book was recommended by a friend.  I've read 15% of this and am sure I will get back to it - eventually.

9.  301 Best Questions to Ask on Your Interview - John Kador:  I was in a rather desperate mood when I downloaded this book.  For the sake of everyone, I'm going to share #301.  Well, sadly they're not numbered so I guess I'll have to actually read the damn thing, but I did notice that there is a section on "Crucial Conversations".  Interesting.

10.  Hard Eight (Stephanie Plum) - Janet Evanovich:  I love, love, love the SP series! Such a fun, quick, laugh-out-loud (if Roger wasn't sleeping beside me anyway) series.  I'll be heartbroken if I find that at some point she's killed off her pistol-packing grandmother.

11.  The Naval War of 1812 OR the History of the United States Navy during the Last War with Great Britain to Which is Appended an Account of the Battle of New Orleans - Theodore Roosevelt:  It was a free download and that is the complete title.

12.  The Mysterious Affair at Styles - Agatha Christie

13.  And Then There Were None - Agatha Christie

14.  Chasing the Sun:  A Novel - Natalia Sylvester:  A "novel"?...okay moving on!

15.  The Twelve Tribes of Hattie - Ayana Mathis

16.  The Cuckoo's Calling - Robert Galbraith, JK Rowling's  pseudonym

17.  Dark Places:  A Novel - Gillian Flynn:  again, another "novel".  Flynn wrote the oh so infamous "Gone Girl:  A Novel" which I could not finish. So, I'm trying another of her books for some unknown reason.

18.  Praying God's Word:  Breaking Free from Spiritual Strongholds - Beth Moore:  Moore released 3 books for free download.  I've read one, and have 2 to go.  I did enjoy her style and her sharing of God's place in her life.  Another conundrum...should it be three, one, two; or 3,1,2; or is it fine how I wrote it in the first (1st?) place?

19.  10% Happier:  How I Tamed the Voice in My Head, Reduced Stress Without Losing My Edge and Found Self-Help That Actually Works - A True Story - Dan Harris.  Okay, Dan, I think you could have gone with "10% Happier:  A True Story".

20.   Hot Six (Stephanie Plum) - Janet Evanovich:  I'm so glad I created this list as I'm afraid I would have skipped # 6 and gone straight to #8.  Not sure where #7 is.

21.  The Associate Press Guide to Punctuation - Rene Cappon

22.  Negotiating Life:  Secrets for Everyday Diplomacy - Jeswald Salacuse:  see entry #7.  Serious self-esteem issues at play here.

23.  Eats, Shoots & Leaves:  The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation - Lynne Truss: Perhaps I should have simply paid more attention in high school.

24.  On Writing:  A Memoir Of The Craft - Stephen King:  I only recently learned the King actually taught writing, and perhaps still does. 

25.  The Women in His Life - Barbara Taylor Bradford:  a weak moment in time when I downloaded this book.  Who knows, it may carry me away!

So it appears that there are many more to list, so I'll stop here and resume with a secondary post, that's if you're still with me!

A Day for Giving Thanks

Today marks a bit of a milestone for us, but especially for Roger.

Just one year ago he was awaiting hip replacement surgery. One of his biggest concerns was would he be able to ride his Harley again. If you know Roger, or if you ride, you will fully understand.

The months leading up to the surgery he was in tremendous pain, unable to ride, and unable to enjoy life.  In the final weeks he was walking with a cane, finally acquiescing to the fact that that was the only way he would able to safely get around. And of course, with me telling him I needed to run into CVS and purchased the cane without his permission!

During this time, his job was getting increasingly more difficult with an immense amount of stress.

Now, one year later, he has a new hip and a new(ish) job (don't ever burn bridges!) which is much closer to home.  He is able to ride the Harley, though "we" are still under going discussion about this.

We don't know what the year ahead will bring, as it appears that I will be embarking on a forced career shift.  However, I am excited and so very nervous about what may lie ahead, but I know that God will provide the path in due time.

Regardless of what the future holds, I know for certain that each and every holiday Roger and I have together is just one more blessing in our life.

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

Happy Birthday, Roger!

Tomorrow my partner in fun turns 60-years-old!  I am so proud that I am his wife, as he continually makes me a better person, not only with his insight into life, but also just by watching him as he navigates through his own life.

For a while I've pondered the meaning of "grace", when it finally occurred to me that the definition of grace has been right in front of my eyes for the past 24 years.  Roger has been through more than his share of heart-breaking moments, and through them all he's shown an incredible capaciousness for forgiveness  that I've yet to see in anyone else.  He's also had more than his share of physical trials, but he keeps on going, refusing to let any one thing stop him from living the fullest life possible.

He doesn't dwell on what could have been and what might be, instead he lives in the here and now, which in turn helps me stay in the present instead of giving into my constant urge to focus on the future, and where we should or could be, and how we are going to get to where ever that might be.  He always pulls me back.

But more than anything, he makes me laugh!  The quickness of his wit always catches me off guard.  Seeing Roger with his dad and his brother before they passed away, you easily see that it ran deep in the gene pool.The Davis men could rarely be outdone with their hilarous tales and antics in life.

So, Happy Birthday, Roger, from your wife who is so very grateful for the constant love and laughter that you give to me and to others.  I love you so very much!!!

And Then Comes the Break of Dawn

Sunrise.  Just the word evokes an image of beauty.  The light changing from blackness to a dark blue ink and gradually more and more colors creeping in as the sun makes its ascent announcing the beginning of a new day, a day filled with promise.

But what if the day before this incredible sunrise you suffered a terrible tragedy or heard shocking news?  This came to mind yesterday when after hearing my dog continuing to bark outside I went to check on him.  Huge billows of smoke were coming from across the way.  A family home on fire which turned into a 2-alarm fire.  This, while 150 firefighters were battling a 9-alarm blaze in downtown Boston.  The huge winds playing a role in both events.

Fortunately for my neighbors home, the wind saved the majority of the house.  However, in Boston, the wind fueled the fire that took the lives of 2 firemen trapped in the basement of a 4-story brownstone.

Thinking of the families involved in these two events brought to mind when my parents told us kids that they were divorcing.  They sat us down, shared the news, and then out went my dad to some unknown apartment on the other side of town.  Now, I can only imagine his own heartbreak, but as I was on the verge of turning 13 it was devastating.  One day, all was mostly okay with the world, then suddenly all was tossed around without any understanding of why.

So off to bed you go, cry yourself to sleep and somehow, almost magically you dream away what remains of the night.  You start to awaken, moved by the filter of light, a sound, a cat, and all seems well. But as your senses gather it strikes with a force that all is not right.  You struggle to gain perspective as to what happened the day before, then as the weight of it all comes into full realization, you wonder how you'll make it through the day that lies ahead.

Somehow you carry on, traveling a familiar road but suddenly unfamiliar with its path.  The dawn has broken and so has your heart.

Prayers going out to the families in Massachusetts who's lives are forever changed.

"The Warmth of Other Suns" - Isabel Wilkerson

"I was leaving the South

To fling myself into the unknown...

I was taking a part of the South

To transplant in alien soil,

To see if it could grow differently,

If it could drink of new and cool rains,

Bend in strange winds,

Respond to the warmth of other suns

And, perhaps, to bloom."

     - Richard Wright

Currently I'm reading "The Warmth of Other Suns", by Isabel Wilkerson, which painstakingly, yet so effortlessly, details the decades long migration of the African American population from the South to the nether regions of the United States, thereby forever changing society's landscape of the United States.

I'm early into this book which has completely captivated me, but before even reaching the Table of Contents I came across the above quote by Richard Wright, born and raised in Natchez, Mississippi in the early 1900's, who later migrated to Chicago.

The Blacks were escaping what was so much more than simple racism and prejudice, rather they were moving towards a life that could and should be lived without fear, and instead with a tangible hope for their future.

As a native Southerner it disheartens me to know that my ancestors most likely played a role in this as well, and on some level, continues today, mostly in the form of opinions that are best left unsaid.  Certainly there were no plantation owners in my lineage but I would like to think that my ancestors jumped to the rescue of maligned Blacks, but more than likely that did not occur.  Perhaps on occasion, but day-to-day, it's hard to fathom that they would have been any different than the rest of the Anglo population as they made their own migration as farmers from Virginia to Texas, and some on to Colorado.

How hopeful is Mr. Wright's perspective? "Respond to the warmth of other suns, And, perhaps, to bloom."

My own hope is to learn and grow from this book, and see how in my own little way I can resist the oh-so-easy temptation to lump individuals into one large category due to their racial makeup or income or otherwise.

I challenge everyone to find Ms. Wilkerson's book and to discover your own way to bloom in this world.

A Treasure Trove of Fun & Adventure

 

Susan and I met in 1980 at the beginning of our sophomore year in college.  We lived in West Hall, a dump of a dorm, located adjacent to what is now the University of North Texas.  

She had the room next door to me, Carol and Jane, and had one heck of a personality conflict with her assigned roommate.  Fortunately, her roommate had her fill of all of us, so she moved out mid-semester, which made room for Robin, another from Everman, to move in with Susan.  From then on it's been one adventure after another with my sister from another mister, and well, another mother!

Below are just a few highlights of the past 33 years, and please don't even begin to think we've wisely used our time rescuing small animals and pondering the mysteries of the universe.  No, we've always had much more important stuff to do!

Dallas, 199? - An irish bar, a martini bar, and one last Irish bar, and the misjudged height of a bar stool.

Austin, 199? - a phone book on the receiving end of Susan's rarely displayed anger.

France, 199? - final night of a 10 day trip with an impromptu group dinner involving a Frenchman, his ex-wife and her new British husband.  Oh, and Susan using her own cork screw to pop open a bottle of wine.  Needless to say the waitress was, how you say, furieuse!

Fort Lauderdale, 2000 - she met Roger and I, along with Nicole and her friend, in Florida to celebrate Nicole's 21st birthday. We all trekked down to Aruba's one evening to celebrate properly.  However, Roger wasn't feeling well so he returned to the hotel leaving us 4 ladies behind which turned into a rather raucous evening to say the least.  Closing time found the four of us, for reasons unknown, waddling home like ducks, only to encounter Roger who came looking for us as it was well past midnight.

New Orleans, 1985 - this trip trumped everything before and after.  Here a some highlights.
Discovering Bryan Lee, a blind blues singer who played at the Old Absinthe House.   Same name as my brother, but very different people indeed!   (http://www.braillebluesdaddy.com/bryan_lee_biography/)

A trip by taxi to an awesome restaurant where 2 things went horribly awry.  One, they didn't accept credit cards and we had no cash.  Two, the neighborhood was so dicey we could not get a cab to pick us up so we had to walk to the French Quarter.  After hooking up with a posse of hookers, as there's always safety in numbers, (right?) we were rescued by a woman in a cab who yelled at us to get into the cab "right now!" and she had us safely transported to the quarter.

Susan "tipping" a cab driver with something other than cash, and we'll leave it at that.

 

All of these adventures aside, and there's many more that will never be shared publicly, she's been there through thick and thin, always willing to lend an ear, share a beer, and just gab the night away.  Many a times the three of us would sit long into the night on the front porch of our home in Richardson waiting for even the slightest of a cool breeze. 

Now, it’s mostly long conversations on the phone when we chat about everything and chat about absolutely nothing, going so far as to take the phone to the bathroom to continue on.  Yeah, we’re that close!

We love you, Susan and I’ll see you in February on Aer Lingus for that 6 hour flight to Dublin!

 

Sometimes, it takes a Street Corner

It's been a while since I've updated our blog, however, I was struck over the weekend while watching a couple argue on a street corner. 

Roger and I were sipping beers in a local pub with a view of a rather busy street corner when we noticed the pair obviously in a disagreement.  She, short in stature compared to her lover, husband, or was it her boyfriend, with her arms folded, looking up at him. He, looking down at her, but without imposing an "I'm bigger than you attitude", emphatically stating his view of the arguement.  Soon there were tears, more emphatic words spoken, arm rubbing,  consolation, then hugs, then a kiss.  All on a street corner.

Just before this, we witnessed a couple in a tiff over parellel-parking. The lady was driving and the man insisted he needed to be the one to park the car.  As he was "expertly" backing into spot, (which was quite large I must say) his lady was standing on the sidewalk, again with arms crossed, emphatically stating, "I can do that!".  With the car safely parked, the couple darted across the street in front of us, spoke a few words, snatched a quick kiss, then hurried around the corner.

I told Roger that that is one of the hardest parts of marriage, settling conflict on the spot, sometimes with all the world to see. 

With friends, and sometimes family, you can brush off any perceived or real misdeeds and let the dust settle gradually over time.  That's the easiest way.  However, in marriage, you can't afford to let disagreements linger as they tend to unexpectedly blow up on you.  As much as you want to ignore and move on, as it sure beats trying to find a tissue in public or fix your make-up with whatever you find lingering in the bottom of your purse, (face it, the guy never cries) but at the end of it all, and at the end of the day, you sleep much more soundly and snuggle so much more closely when all has been resolved. 

Sometimes marriage is resolved on a street corner with passersby moving along and the world watching from a distance.

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What's not to Love About February!

Ah, the month of February. Valentine's Day, my birthday and wedding anniversary all within 8 days from start to finish. On the one hand I can say, "It's all about me!"". But fortunately I'm blessed to have so many wonderful people in my life who are also born in February.

I'll start with my beautiful mother, Loretta, who was born on her mother's birthday, Feb. 19. (Clearly a sign indicative of my lifelong impatience, I came 3 days too early to make the day a trifecta.) I never knew my maternal grandmother as she passed when my mother was only a toddler. Momma was the youngest of 6 children and was ultimately raised by "Mamaw", who had the unrivaled courage to marry man raising 6 kids! There's so much I've learned from my mom in terms of strength (which is a true test for me even today) and a grand sense of adventure. She has to realize she's to blame for me now living 2,000 from "home".

Next, is my phenomenal mother-in-law, Wanda. I must say, she was the originator of celebrating the "birthday month", which I'm more than happy to follow in this grand tradition. In reality, she celebrates all month long as it's impossible for her to fit into one single day all the lunches, dinners and long phone calls with friends and family whose lives have been touched by her constant caring and the long reach of her compassion for others.

And then there's other family members. Tara Davis, a spit-fire for sure, whose beautiful blue eyes just draw you into what ever she may be in the midst of. Melissa, my brother's step-daughter who's raising a beautiful daughter, both inside and out!

And then, there's my friends, Mary and Holly. We seemed to somewhat stumble into each other's lives almost 20 years ago and simply never missed a beat. There's many more to our little group, but they won't be mentioned by name as they weren't born in February! It's rare to form such strong bonds over one common interest, especially when that interest was "All My Children". And while our initial monthly get-togethers were solely for watching AMC, it wasn't long before that was last topic to come arise.

And so many others who share this month along with us. Too many high school friends to mention, co-workers and family members of friends! With a special shout out to Katie King, for without Katie, there'd be no Susan King in my life today!!!

So while February is the briefest month on the calendar, there's no other month that is so packed full of wonderful memories, special moments and all around festivities.

I Won the "2010 Erica Award"!

My acceptance speech is below. Completely unedited and uncut (because I don't know how) and unfortunately, unscripted!

My speech is garbled because it was a BELOW ZERO wind chill, not because I'd been swilling! Oh yeah, turn up your volume, the wind was drowning out my speech.

Graziella Dutreuille, a Child of Haiti

In the early 90's many Haitian children found themselves in tent cities on Guatanamo Bay without their parents. Many of these kids eventually found their way to relatives within the United States, and some just managed to get the United States, one of these children was Graziella Dutreuille.

I came to know her through Nortel Networks' affiliation with the local high schools, providing part-time employment to students, having hired her for my own department. Sadly, I witnessed first hand the affects of bigotry based solely on one's perceived lack of proficiency with the English language. Initially from a manager who came from the mid-west, who himself was adopted at an early age. Lastly, from a manager whose own family escaped to the United States when the Shah of Iran was run out of the country.

Graziella, a very wise, intelligent, talented individual who had to fight for survival even at Nortel, a company rife with multiple nationalities. A young lady so determined to make her way in the United States, that she lied about her age for the sole purpose of getting a high school diploma from the US, with dreams of obtaining a college diploma in International Relations.

I was taken aback when I learned that she was considerably older than the age she went by and perceived to be. However, as she confessed to me, she knew that those under the age of 18 had the greatest chances of surviving in the United States. She never asked for hand outs, only assistance. I need a bed, I need a small refrigerator, does anyone have an old sofa they want to get rid of. Who hasn't heard this from any college aged-student?

From my internet searches I believe Graziella is in still in the Dallas metroplex, however, I know the majority of her family remained behind in Haiti, a habitually poverty stricken nation, but I'm saddened that I'm not finding actual links that lead me to think that she has succeeded to the degree that she had hoped. So with that, I'm sharing an essay she gave me written on a typewriter on Feb. 14, 1999.

I hope you all take a moment to reflect upon her experience.
===========================================================
"The mind is its own self can make a heaven of hell and a hell of heaven".

This quote is a good example that states that life is what one makes of it. We can feed our thoughts into believing life is a wonderful place-heaven or a dreadful depressing Place-hell. My attitude of life reflects just this. At the age of 14, I left my country (Haiti) in a boat to come to America. However, my journey was not easy as I spent eight months in a military camp at Guatanamo Bay Cuba; it was my vision of hell, but my mind empowered me to believe there was a heaven on earth and this hope made the future a journey to success.

I for example, am a very strong young woman who is ambitious and will strive to make things in life happen for me. We face many obstacles on the way which discourage us but to visualize the light at the end of the tunnel and to make our time on earth a beautiful existence, we can try to create our own heaven on earth.

My dream of heaven did come true. America was everything I dreamed it to be, but one things was a problem. I did not speak the language. I had to learn a new language, which was very difficult for me. Some people thought I was stupid; few seemed to pay attention to me. I lived a life having no family here to count on and hoped that it would soon be over. I tried hard to get through life by doing the best. Each day of my life I dreamt of living without loneliness. Sometimes things happen in life and there is nothing you can do to change it, you have to stand up and make it better for yourself. It can be hell but remember to turn it into heaven!

I lost most of everything that a person could possibly dream of in life but it did not kill me and I do not feel sorry for what has happened. This makes the mind and soul stronger. I take the rest of what I have left and I try harder. I dream of becoming somebody and that's one of the reasons I left my country. At this time America was the only solution to my dream.

In order to find the way to success and create my own heaven, I have to know where I stand and where I want to be, this makes me see clearly and I stay positive about life. In school I began to dream, to dream like an American, after all, I am living with the American dream. It is hard to hope for something when you do not see a way of getting it but you have to have faith and pride that it will happen.

Heaven to me is happiness and contentment. I aspire to have the opportunity to attend college, have a good job, and create a happy home and family. I know I will be in "heaven" soon here on earth and it is because I train my mind to make that choice.

Written by Graziella Dutreuille
2/14/99
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There are many ways, we as Americans can help, but first and foremost, is to not judge others by appearance or speech. Instead, take only a moment to get to know even the slightest bit about the the person in our midst. You never know, it may be another child that has came to our country without any benefit of family to catch them when they may fall.

Peeping Tom!

Here I was minding my own business, trying to get the yard mowed before dark. I had a small window of opportunity as the previous days had either been rainy or blustery. Before I began, I happened to grab my camera hoping to catch pictures of the foliage in the woods that back up to our yard. Suddenly I heard neighbors hollering at me and I turned around to find this hot air balloon lightly crashing through the tops of the trees.

Below are a two videos of the event. Click the arrow to play.


The Eagle has landed!
All the neighbors came spilling into our yard. The video below is of our neighbor Diane. She's a remarkable woman, recently diagnosed with MS. You'll rarely meet a more positive person!

The balloon basket was filled with 7 people standing shoulder to shoulder when it landed. Overall it was a big adventure indeed. Unfortunately Roger was on his way home and missed most of it. He did get home in time to watch them pack up, which is no easy feat.


You can see on the far right that I've resumed the initial task at hand as the sun has already set.

National Donut Day!

June 5th is National Donut Day and we couldn't live in a better part of the country to celebrate. New Englanders are mad for their Dunkin Donuts. The map above shows the locations near my office. SEVEN all within ONE mile.

However, its not about the donuts for these folks, its about the coffee. Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall, morning, noon and night. I've never seen anything like it before and it comes with its own lingo when ordering. I'm not talking about the fancy foreign language terms used by Starbucks. At Dunks' it's more like a loud-mouthed waitress yelling an order to the short order cook working in the back of a greasy spoon. Only the loud-mouthed waitress is instead a customer.

Back to map, if you're wondering where #6 is, its hiding behind #7. The two stores are located across the street from each other.

As an aside, this is actually the first I've heard of National Donut Day, but apparently the Donut/Doughnut is honored the first Friday of every June.

Speaking of Winding Roads

Roger buffed and polished each and every spoke on his Harley today. Click on the photo to see the detail. Sparkly!!!

Oh, and Guinness supervised!