RIP Robert Sherman

I was saddened today to hear of the death of Robert Sherman, one of the composers (together with brother, Richard) of much of the music of my childhood. Together, they scored "Mary Poppins", "Chitty, Chitty Bang Bang", "The Aristocats", and "Jungle Book" just to name a few of my favorites. 


I can't even begin to imagine a world without 
"Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious" or "Feed the Birds."  "The Bare Necessities" and "Winnie the Pooh" are two tunes I still hum to this day. And although I was a bit older when this came out, "The Slipper and the Rose" remains one of my favorite versions of the Cinderella story. "Rainbows raced around the room when he danced with me..." What a wonderful way with words!


Rest in peace Mr. Sherman. Your legacy is safe in the hearts of my generation and generations to come. 

The Crash

Today is the 34th anniversary of the "bus crash." I


I was attending Hinds Junior College at the time and we boarded a bus very early on a Saturday morning to attend a junior college choral festival at Jones County Junior College. 


Little did we know that the driver of the bus we boarded had been up late shuttling a sports team from a game and had gotten little sleep. We were just outside Laurel, MS, when the bus jerked.  Sitting two seats behind the driver, I looked up to see that he had nodded off. Our choir director reached up and tried to take the wheel, but the driver jerked awake, overcorrected, and sent us over an embankment. 


Miraculously, all survived. Several of us had fractured backs (me included) and there was girl with severe facial lacerations. Others had various bumps, fractures, and bruises, but we were alive. 


I have been in varying degrees of pain since then. And I have never been quite the same. I am the most nervous passenger on the planet. I never quite regained the strength in my arms that I once had. I still don't really like to ride in buses. 


As I walked up to take communion this morning in church, I thought about the "might have beens". And I was thankful once again. 

Mickey's Girl

Like many girls of my generation, I was a Monkees fan. I was only 7 when "The Monkees" began, but I thought they were the coolest thing on legs. I watched the show on Saturday mornings, had all the albums, and swooned over...


Mickey.


Don't get me wrong. I liked them all. And I thought that Davy was quite adorable. But, Mickey was the one who melted my butter. That curly dark hair and that devilish twinkle in his brown eyes made my little girl heart skip a beat.

Rest in peace, Davy. You will be missed.

But, for the time being, I still have Mickey.

Facebook

Almost every day I see people post (yes, on facebook!) about what a time waster it is. And about how THEY have better things to do with their lives, etc. More power to them, I say. 


As for me, I admit it. I love facebook. Don't get me wrong. It is definitely a mixed bag. I have seen people use it for hurtful and hateful reasons. I know there are folks who may neglect their "real" lives because of facebook. But, used well, it can be an extremely positive thing. 


For example, it is a great way to get news out to a lot of people in a hurry. When my Dad was sick and dying, I could give periodic updates (carefully worded) to friends and extended family. A lot of them are on facebook, but do not check e-mail. And being automatically reminded of birthdays is good thing. 


Another nice thing about facebook is that I am able to post my artwork and get immediate feedback. This helps me hone in on what  appeals to people. And I have made quite a few sales through my facebook inbox. It has become a gentle way to get my work "out there" but not in a hard sell or pushy way.


Facebook makes me laugh. I honestly DO lol (laugh out loud) at least once a day over something I see on facebook. I need laughs. 


Maybe the best thing about facebook for me is that it is a great place to encourage people. Young friends and family post about tests and college stress. BTDT, and I can offer an encouraging word. Someone looking for a new job? I can offer to go over his or her resume' or let them know if I hear of anything. Prayer requests? These sometimes get out of hand, but I can ALWAYS find time to say at least a "one time" prayer for any concern. 


It may sound like I am always on facebook. If I was, I would not have time to maintain the church website or teach 5 watecolor classes a month at the local senior center. I would not have time to paint for art shows and the two places I sell and exhibit my work. I would not be "doing art" every week with my great niece and nephew. I would never have time for lunch with friends, or to sing in my church choir. 


Facebook is not for everybody. I don't put anything on facebook that I would not share with the world. There IS no such thing as real privacy on internet. I have just learned to minimize the negatives and maximize the positives of this social medium and use  it to my advantage. 


Hmmm, time to go update my status... ;)

Coughing and Church

"The Crud" as many call it has kept me out of church for two Sundays now. I am not running fever. I don't feel THAT bad. But the cough just won't quit. I hate risking disturbing a service with a coughing fit that won't go away, even with cough drops. 


And there is always the issue of "Not being in the CHOIR." When I am not in my accustomed place in the loft, I never quite know what to do with myself. If I could sing, I would be up there. But, when I can't sing, I feel awkward in the congregation. And of course, there is the issue of "sitting in someone's pew." The first time I ever visited Crawford Street UMC, it was pointed out to me that I was sitting in the pew normally occupied by a longtime member. I go to church alone, so I have no regular person to sit with in the congregation. When I can, I sit on the side pew near the acolytes, behind the pianist. That works, when space is available. 


Next Sunday, I am hoping the cough is gone, but I will probably still be cautious with my voice. After having nodes, I am taking no chances with rushing back to singing. I just have to remind myself that:


1. I am a church member whether I can sing or not. 
2. The world will not end if I accidentally sit in someone's pew. 

The Grammys

No, I did not watch them. I have not watched them in some time. Partially because of my husband's dislike of awards shows. But mostly because (yes I know I sound like an old fogey here), I just don't care for much of the music that has come out in the past 10 years or so. 


However, I did go back and watch a couple of the performances the next day. Adele appears to be the dominant female voice of the current generation. And she is quite good. But, listening to her made ME realize how far I am from the things that she sings about. However, I am glad to see someone who is taking care of her voice and using it properly as a model for this generation of up and coming pop singers. The fact that she is quite pretty and popular without being "stick thin" is also a plus in my book.


Yes, I admire her talent. But she is simply not my "voice." The voices of my generation were Barbra Streisand, Karen Carpenter, Roberta Flack, Aretha Franklin, and Carole King. They are the voices I still want to listen to 30 something years later. I could even relate into the 80's and 90's with Whitney Houston (Yes, I have owned "The Bodyguard since it was released!), Alanis Morrissette, Melissa Etheridge, Tori Amos, K.D. Lang, and Fiona Apple. Somwhere around the turn of the century, my taste current music switched mostly to bands as opposed to solo female artists. 


At 52, I guess it was bound to happen. Wonder where my "Tapestry" album is? 

Happy Birthday, Bill!

My husband, Bill turns 58 on Jan 31. When he tells people his age, they almost universally express disbelief. Bill has NEVER looked his age.

Bill has accomplished a lot over this past year. He put together a book compiling and cross referencing Claiborne County marriage records from the 19th century. This was almost 4 years in the making, and sometimes involved crawling under things to get to reference materials at the Claiborne County Courthouse in Port Gibson.

Bill also went to Southaven to help my best friend move back upstairs when her recently widowed mother returned to live with her and needed the first floor. Not just one trip, but two.

Bill also was invaluable in helping with my Daddy during that last 3 months. He helped chauffer Daddy to the hospital in Jackson, sat in waiting rooms with me, and even spent nights with Daddy when he was needed. Bill was the one who went out in the rain the night of December 15th to take sweet stepmom Sara to the hospital when Daddy died.

I am proud of the things Bill has done in his life, but this year, he went above and beyond the call of duty for me, my family, and my friends. And I hope he has a wonderful birthday tomorrow. Hopefully lunch at Roca, a movie, and this gift (being delivered in the morning by neighbor Ross Ables) will make it so.

A New Bag

Sunday afternoon, I took myself shopping for a new purse. I had nothing against my old purses, but they were simply too small to carry my ever growing portable pharmacy in. I had to have easy acccess to my asthma inhalor, my Epi-Pen, Baby aspirin, eye drops, neosporin, and regular meds as well.

On the other hand, however, I am not supposed to carry a purse that is too heavy due to long standing neck and back problems. I needed to find something lightweight in a medium size. And, as I am far too lazy to regularly change purses, it needed to go with everything I own!

So, after looking through racks of dull, neutral colored purses, I found this one by Lily Bloom. Made out of recycled plastic bottles, it is lightweight and feels like nylon. And it has enough pockets to separate out things that need to be separated, but not so many that I get confused! (Not hard to do these days.) And the price was right. $35.00 on sale. I even had enough left over to buy a new wallet!

There is just something about a new purse that seems like I am making a fresh start.

Fresh starts are good. :)

Goodbye Joe

I was saddened today to hear of the death of Joe Pa. And even more saddened by the way his career ended. I still think there is much more to the story and that Joe did what he personally thought was right taking into account his generation and the information as it was presented to him. And I say this as a survivor of childhood sexual abuse myself. 


I hope history is ultimately kind to Joe. The number of kids he helped over his long and storied career has to carry some weight. 


Rest in Peace, Joe. 

The Game

Much has been made of the BCS Championship game that was played Monday night. It was a disaster for the LSU offense, led by a very shaky and apparently nervous quarterback. Some people seem ready to lynch Les Miles and even so-called die hard fans are trashing the team they rooted for up until now.


Yes, as a life long LSU fan, (born during football season 1959 while my Daddy was an engineering student there)  I am disappointed in the way this game was played and certainly in the final score. But, I really can't complain.


Why? Because overall, this season was awesome for LSU. They went 13 and 1 and won their 14th conference title. But most importantly, this season of LSU football helped distract my Daddy from the indignities, pain, and suffering caused by the return of his cancer. It gave him something to focus on, enjoy, and take pride in. The last gift I gave him was the SEC championship ball cap I ordered as soon as we clobbered Georgia. Despite the fact that he was very ill by the time it arrived, Daddy smiled when he saw it. 


Did we win the big game? No. But LSU gave Daddy a great "last" season. And, this year, that is all that matters. 

Gown Day

The last few weeks have been overwhelming, to say the least. My Daddy's last hospitalization, death, helping take care of his immediate affairs, and the holidays have all taken a major toll on both my physical, spiritual, and mental health. 


So today, I skipped church and had a "gown day." This is not something I do lightly, but I just needed some time to nurture myself. I made homemade vegetable-beef soup, watched football, napped, did a frivolous painting exercise, played endless games of Angry Birds, and streamed Star Trek, Voyager from my iPad to my TV. 


I needed today. 


And I am (at least partially) restored. 

Breathe

The numbness that protected me when my Daddy first passed away is leaving me now. That relatively blissful bubble that allowed me to make funeral preparations, sort through his things, and write coherent (I hope!) thank you notes. 


But that numbness has given way to that next stage. The stage anyone who has ever lost a dearly loved one knows all too well. That crushing, "I can't breathe", weight that settles in as the numbness wears off. 


So I struggle to remember to take one breath at a time, knowing this stage will, at some merciful point, end. But it must play out in its' own time and in its own way.


And it will.

Good Riddance?

Yesterday I read post after post on Facebook about how glad people were that 2011 was ending. There were even several somewhat vulgar renditions of the numbers 2011, signifying "good riddance." 


Long ago, I found myself occasionally "wishing years away to the cornfield." (Twilight Zone reference), but as I get older, I no longer have the desire to do that. Time is just too darn precious to me now. 


Yes, 2011 was a tough year in many respects. My beloved Daddy passed away on December 15. My sweet father in law has been ill. I spent two months of the summer in severe pain from a chest wall inflammation. I have struggled to find my singing voice again as I no longer have many opportunities to sing the solos that keep me practicing. There is no time for me, I am told. 


But, as difficult as 2011 was at times, I was also blessed beyond belief. Watching my husband blossom after retiring from a stressful job has been a joy.  Having the opportunity to touch children and senior citizens by teaching art classes has been a source of much happiness for me. I got to celebrate my best friend's 50th birthday with a wonderful weekend in a new city. I began stretching my singing wings by beginning to record a Christmas CD that hopefully will be ready for 2012 and have met delightful people in that process. I saw my niece graduate high school and begin her college career. Would I wish any of this away? I don't think so!


So don't be too hard on old 2011. Bad stuff is going to happen. That is life. 2012 may be better. It may be worse. Just take it day by day and try to see the blessings as they come. 


And they will. 

Smart

*****Rant Alert*****

Over the past few weeks, I have encountered many "smart" people, both children and adults. Kids with high IQ's who are achieving high grades in school. And adults who are not working, going to school, or doing anything really significant. What happened to these over-acheiving children? They were so smart. I thought they were going to conquer the world. What happened?

The only answer I can come up with is LIFE happened. These kids get plenty of book knowledge in school. But they don't seem to get life skills. Kids don't know how to cope with adversity, because many simply have never had to face it. Mom or Dad make sure that they never face the consequences of their actions. Things are always the "teacher's fault." Many kids don't have a concept of budgeting or saving for things they need. They are afraid to take risks and "just do it." They have never been taught how to fail.

I just want to shake these adults and say "Go to college, live in a ratty dorm, and eat Ramen noodles. You will survive and you will have an education that no one can ever take away from you." I want to say "Take the fast food/retail job. You will learn skills that will serve you well in life. Things like the fact that, in life, you are going to have to take orders from people without your level of intellect." I want to send them to classes to learn life skills if they have not learned them from parents or grandparents. And, if they really don't have a clue where they want to go in life, tell them to join a volunteer organization like "Americorps" that will help them clarify their goals. Or, join the military. 

Just DO something. 

Together for Christmas

Today is the 21st anniversary of my mother's death. I remember spending Christmas Day 1990 sitting in the ICU waiting room of the Vicksburg hospital struggling to let go of my Mama. On paper, the date is the 26th, when the doctor got there after midnight to pronounce her dead. But, she was gone Christmas night.


Since then, Christmas has been bittersweet. It was my Mama's favorite holiday and she went all out. After her death, I cut way back on things. Less spending, less cooking, less decorating. Trying to find someone off the "beaten path" to help. Not necessarily bad things. And eventually, as time passed, I began to truly enjoy parts of Christmas again.


But now, with my Daddy dead only 10 days, I am now spending the wee hours of Christmas morning in tears. It is like I am not only grieving his loss, but the loss of my mother again as well. Both gone, right here at Christmas time.


The one thought that brings me comfort at this point that my Mama and Daddy are together for Christmas, once again. And not just together, but in Heaven to boot. 


So, I will mourn my losses and hope that time once again heals me enough to enjoy the Celebration of the birth of Jesus once again. 

Sorting Through

One of today's tasks was to meet with the rest of my family to sort through some of my Daddy's things. I will be the first to admit, I am not good at this sort of thing. Even with the person gone, it seems like such an intrusion to go through their drawers, closets, and desks. 


As the others picked out things to keep as mementos, I found very little need for this. I am at a point where I am trying to simplify my life and get rid of the "things" that are not really useful or beautiful. I have photos, both displayed and on my electronic devices. My memories are safe in my head (at least for the moment). I did bring home a small coin bank that my Daddy has possessed as a child, simply because I liked it and found it charming. 


Twenty one years ago, it was much harder to part with my mother's things. While the rest of my family tossed, I gathered and boxed for going through at a later date. I guess that need for tangible things has diminished as I grow older and realize that the real "mementos" are the gifts my parents gave me growing up. I learned to be resourceful, generous, helpful, and (most of the time) kind from my parents. I learned the value of a dollar and how to work for it early on. I learned the importance of family and being there for each other. 


And these mementos are the ones that really count. 

Timing

My Daddy went "home" on Thursday night, December 15th. 


In the past, I have never really understood when a deceased person's loved ones said things like "It was a blessing" or "He/She is not suffering anymore." I do now. 


Watching my Daddy weaken, become disoriented, and struggle for breath was the hardest thing I have ever had to watch. By the final days of my Daddy's life, I was begging God to take him home. 


Now I am the one saying "It was a blessing." Don't get me wrong. I will miss my Daddy terribly. But he is not suffering anymore. 


And I am beyond thankful.

Decisions, Decisions

I will be the first to admit that decision making is not the easiest thing for me. I don't make them lightly or without a fair amount of thought and prayer. The hardest ones are those "lesser of two evils" decisions. Does one take chemo and live 2 years? Or is quality more important than quantity? Does one stay in a dating relationship that is safe, but no longer healthy? If a teen is depressed and suicidal, is a solution that helps keep that child alive OK, even if it is not the ultimate one? 

I know these decisions are inevitable. They are part of life. But that does not make them any easier. 

The Curse of Libra?

According to astrology (which I take with a healthy grain of salt, btw!), I am a LIbra, represented by the scales. Librans tend to want things balanced, can see many sides of a story, and like fair play. These characteristics fit me to a "T."


Being able to see more than one side of a story was essential to my work as a counselor. I was not allowed to choose my clients. I saw the people I was assigned. And I had to find a way to connect with them. Yes, even the sex offenders, the thieves, and the abusers. 


Don't get me wrong. Some of the crimes I heard about were horrendous. And I DON'T  excuse them. But there was almost always more than one side to the story. A mother who was arrested for child neglect was a teen "throwaway" child whose boyfriend would beat her up if she neglected HIS needs for the needs of her child. The thief was a gentle lady who had gotten caught up in gambling and was terrified after the person she owed money to threatened her child. And in some cases, a person's mind simply could not "take in" situations if he or she had been through a similar trauma. 


We also tend to filter our reactions to things through our own experiences or where we are in life.  I am not a mother, so there are things that don't hit me as hard.  However, situations involving elderly people (as I care for my seriously ill father) tug at my heartstrings in a big way. 


Nothing is completely black or white with me, and I have to be careful about voicing my to people who are (sometimes mercifully!) able to see the world that way. 


I always see shades of gray. 

The Dressing

"The Dressing" has been almost a sacred ritual in my family since I can remember. This is true "Southern" dressing made with cornbread, as opposed to "Yankee" dressing made with "light bread." Most true Southerners shudder at the thought of light bread dressing. 


My Mama and Daddy used to make the dressing together at Thanksgiving. Since Mama's death, Daddy has continued to make the dressing, with subtle changes over the years, but it is pretty much the same recipe. 


Daddy has been quite ill this Fall and for the first time since I can remember, was not up to "hosting" Thanksgiving this year. I volunteered to make his dressing for him and deliver it this year. This was a huge step, a changing of the guard in the dressing making hierarchy. 


Of course, Daddy was unable to let go completely. He called one day to make certain that I knew to use fresh broth instead of canned and to make sure I put in mostly dark meat. He even gave me the specific chicken parts he wanted used. It was to be baked in a 4 inch deep dish. The Pepperidge Farm stuffing mix I used in conjunction with the corn bread had to be the CORNBREAD version of the stuffing mix. Celery and onions could not be chopped in a food processor. They had to be done by hand, with the pieces coming out about the size of my little fingernail. Since he and my stepmom both love sage, the tablespoonful for the dressing was to be "slightly heaping." 


By the time I was ready to make the dressing, I was somewhat anxious. What if my dressing did not measure up? Horrors! 


I watched my Daddy as he scooped up his first forkful of my dressing, waiting for a response. I did not realize that I was actually holding my breath until he chewed, swallowed...


And pronounced it "perfect."