Really Good Day!

Today was an absolutely wonderful day. 


It began with church at Truly Ministries at 8:30. A dear, dear friend met me there for worship. And worship we did! I sang a Ken Medema favorite "Lord, Listen to Your Children Praying" and even got the congregation to sing along with me. And Reverend Truly preached an inspiring sermon that had me smiling through the entire thing!


After that, my friend and I went to breakfast at Cracker Barrel. Grits, eggs, muffins, hot biscuits...what's not to like? We had a chance to catch up with and enjoy each other. 


Then, this afternoon, Mylie's "Gran" and I went to redo Mylie's room. We had Mylie's mom take her out and we did a room to make a 5 year old happy. Plenty of pink and purple, with hearts, flowers and butterflies that fit Mylie's personality to a "T." I never had children, so being able to spoil other people's kids brings me great joy. 


Now I am home, tired but happy. 


Mostly happy. 

Funeral for a Cousin

Yesterday, I attended the funeral of my Daddy's cousin Herman. Called "Little Herman", being a junior, he stood well over 6 feet tall. 


The funeral was very well done. Longtime, loyal store employees shared rememberances of Herman from the pulpit. Songs were sung and prayers were offered. 


After the service, my stepmom and I decided not to try to make the graveside service due to the heat and the long walk that faced us when we got to the cemetery. When I got home, my sister Tammy called and said that Herman's funeral procession did not go to the city cemetery. Instead it had gone across town in the opposite direction. 


I was baffled. I thought there was room in the Tillman lot for Herman. I could not figure out where another cemetery might be in the tiny town of Hazlehurst, MS. My sister promised to find out and let me know. 


This afternoon, I got another call. Herman had, indeed, been buried in the Tillman lot in the Hazlehurst city cemetery. But, first, the procession took him past Tillman furniture, the flagship of his 5 stores, one last time. 


I know that Herman would have approved. And that he and Daddy had a ringside seat watching from Heaven. 

Another "First"

Tomorrow Easter will mark yet another "first" without Daddy. I have made it through Christmas, New Years, and his birthday. For some reason, this one seems hardest so far. No Easter get together is planned. I am not making a coconut cake in the shape of a bunny, I did not go in search of those awful individually wrapped eggs. The ones that are white inside with hard pastel coating on the outside. Daddy liked those and Circus Peanuts. I never really could figure out why. I find them both at the very bottom of the candy food chain myself.


Tomorrow, I will attend his little church, Yokena Presbyterian, with my sweet stepmom. It will be strange sitting in a pew without him beside me. Strange not having him make sure I have a bulletin and a hymnal. Strange not hearing his voice banter back and forth with his friends before the service begins. 


I know it will get easier with time. But first, I have to make it through another "first" without him. 


And that is not easy. 

Via Dolorosa

Friday, Lord willing, I will sing the Via Dolorosa at Christ Episcopal Church Vicksburg for the 23rd straight year. This is something I look forward to every year. This year, I have a touch of bronchitis that is threatening the quality of my performance. I am hoping to be able to sing this one song, even if I don't sing again for weeks.

A couple of years ago, I scoured the internet for public domain images of Christ carrying His cross down the "Way of Sorrows" and made this video to accompany a recording of the "Via Dolorosa" done in Nashville a few years back.

Walk the "Via Dolorosa" with Christ this Good Friday.

Joyful

This morning I went to Truly Ministries "Dream Center" to sing the "Via Dolorosa." I can't begin to describe what a joyful experience this was for me. It was as if the song just poured out of me, with an effortlessness that I have not felt in a long time.

I have been feeling the tug of spreading my wings and going to visit other churches and witness through music for a couple of years now. But I never truly felt free to do so until now. I think the joy I felt this morning was a sign that I am on the right path.

So, I am stepping out to see just where it leads me.

Joyfully!

First Birthday

My Daddy desperately wanted to make his 80th birthday. When asked his age, he would say "I'll be 80 in March (the 28th to be exact) instead of 79." I have to admit that I don't like those newspaper ad things that wish deceased people a "Happy Birthday." With the passing of the Earthly body, there are no more Earthly birthdays. I hope that Daddy is rejoicing in Heaven every day now. 


This is not to say that these days surrounding Daddy's birthday are not hard. I won't be baking a coconut cake with seven minute icing. I won't be trying to find a card that will make him smile. Most difficult of all is that I won't be calling him to sing his own version of Happy Birthday (aka Happy Birf Birf) to you. 

The Dads wishing each other a Happy Birthday last year

But there will be an Earthly celebration for my Father-in-Law tomorrow. He shared my Daddy's birthday and will turn 83 tomorrow. Mr. Sanders has treated me like I was "his" since I married his son 28 years ago. The work of cooking on his birthday meal has helped distract me a bit from dwelling on my Daddy and how much I miss him. 


At least a little. 

The End

Today marks the end of a tradition for me. I will not be singing the Via Dolorosa at my church. I have been singing this for at least 23 years.

Due to many factors, I have not been able to be in choir much this year. I chose not to do the cantata this year, due to it being the same week as Daddy's birthday, family coming to visit, health issues, and still being mired in settling Daddy's estate.

So, I was not asked to sing the Via Dolorosa this year.

And it makes me sad.

Daddy's Cookies

For the first time since last Fall, I am baking oatmeal cookies. These are not just any oatmeal cookies. These were my Daddy's special oatmeal cookies. 


My Daddy used to talk about the oatmeal cookies his mama used to make. Of course, like most cooks of her time, she seldom wrote down recipes, so after she died there was no way of knowing exactly what quantities of what went into her oatmeal cookies. 


Over the years my mom tried to recreate these cookies for him, but they were always "too sweet", "not the right texture", etc. Competing with a memory was tough! 


After mom died, I continued to try oatmeal cookie recipes over the years to see if I could somehow recreate the magic for my Daddy. Finally, I stumbled upon this recipe and refined it to Daddy's specifications. I made a batch and took them to him. He took a bite and I could see by the look on his face that these were the cookies he had been waiting for. 


So, I am making a batch of Daddy's favorite cookies today, and remembering his smiles. 

Birthday Boy

Saturday, I drove to Baton Rouge for a very special occasion. My cousin Audrey's husband, Pete, was having a birthday party to celebrate the big 8-0. 


When I got to his daughter's house where the party was being held, I was amazed at all the cars parked on the street. I finally found a place to park about 2 blocks away, grabbed my trusty red walker and began trekking to the house. I think half of Baton Rouge was invited to "party with Pete."


I got to hug and visit with a bunch of cousins. I had my picture taken with the birthday boy. Entertainment provided by his children and grandchildren in the form of Hee Haw songs, etc, prepared just for this occasion. And no gathering would be complete without coconut cake. 


After my Daddy's cancer came back, he would always answer that he "would be 80 in March", instead of saying that he was 79. Daddy really wanted to make 80. And I was looking forward to celebrating with him. Daddy's birthday party is being held in Heaven this year. 


But, thanks to getting to celebrate #80 with Pete, not getting to celebrate with Daddy stings a little less. 

"Airport"

Last night, as I was late night channel surfing, I came upon this movie in the middle of one of my favorite scenes. Helen Hayes, the stowaway, was explaining to airport management just how she had been able to "fly free" for years. A few tricks, plus her "sweet old lady" looks had allowed her to travel pretty much wherever and whenever she wanted. Helen Hayes was absolutely masterful in this part. 


And, of course, I could not help but make comparisons to the "old" days of flying vs. the way it is now, post 911. 


Back when I first saw "Airport" at the Joy Theater in Vicksburg, Mississippi, we had just put my dad on a plane to Atlanta. The whole family had been able to go the gate to wait with him and hug him goodbye before he boarded. The toilets cost 10 cents apiece to use. Even the escalator was an exotic treat to ride. People dressed up to fly. Men were in ties and women in neat pantsuits or dresses. 


I had forgotten just how sexy Dean Martin was in a "straight" dramatic role. How cute a young Gary Collins was. How beautiful Jaqueline Bissett (curvacious, not one of these modern, emaciated stars) was in her heyday. 


And it made me long for those days before body scanners, pat downs, luggage searches, and constant suspicion made flying more of a chore to be dreaded than the adventure it once was. 

My Mailman

It is the end of an era on Porter's Chapel Road. Our wonderful mailman, Donnie, has retired after many years of service. The envy of many of our friends, we often received our mail by noon.

When Donnie would deliver packages to our door, he knew to give me a little extra time to get there. One time, when I was expecting several packages and I had the flu, he would tell me to "feel better" when I opened the door to accept my delivery.

At Christmas, I would leave candy in my mailbox for him. If I happened to catch him while he was getting it, I would be rewarded with a nod and a big smile.

I have not yet met our new postman. He does not bring our mail until mid to late afternoon. That is usually when I am napping. I am sure he will be fine and I will get used to him.

But I still miss Donnie.

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.