What's My Line?

Recently, I wrote about watching,  To Tell The Truth on Buzzr TV. Well, I ran out of those episodes and fortunately stumbled on another great game show from the 1950s. 

What's My Line?  featured a panel of 4 celebrities, a moderator and a guest whose occupation had to be guessed by the aforementioned panelists. There was also a "mystery" celebrity on each show. These were quite well known at the time and the different ways these celebrities disguised their voices to help evade detection was hilarious. 

The collection of episodes that I stumbled upon were from 1955. The panel was comprised of Dorothy Kilgallen, journalist, Fred Allen, comedian and radio host, Arlene Francis, actress and talk show host, and Bennet Cerf, one of the founders of Random House publishing. I was not familiar with any one of these except for Arlene Francis. It was quite refreshing to see intelligent, well dressed, well spoken, and polite people on my television screen! Another thing that struck me was the fact that these people did not seem to be terrified of looking their ages. The women were not overly made up, receding hairlines were not combed over, and reading glasses were put on as needed. John Charles Daly, the moderator, was a distinguished journalist who looked as if he was having the time of his life hosting this show, which he did for 17 years. 

The guest's occupations ranged from that of an elderly lady who would dive into a barrel of water for a local grocery store, to a man who played the back end of a horse in Vaudeville, to the first commissioned male nurse in the US Army. 

My husband will even watch this show with me. Now that we have watched Buzzr's collection, I have found more on YouTube. It is just as much fun to watch today as it must have been back when it aired (before I was born for the most part). If you want an escape from the realities of today, check out What's My Line?.

Tornadoes

Fortunately, no houses actually blew away, but there was quite a bit of damage last Saturday as not one, not two, but THREE tornadoes hit my small city of Vicksburg, Mississippi. 

For the most part, we have really been spared in the tornado department since the big one hit in December of 1953. I would think that one would be headed right for us, only to have it go above us or dissipate before it got to us. And, believe me, I have been thankful for that. And I am beyond grateful for the fact that no lives were lost this time. 

It looks like we might be in for another round of bad weather and possible tornadoes tomorrow. Everyone be weather aware and do what it takes to stay as safe as possible. We can replace the homes and businesses. We can plant more trees. What we can't get is another YOU.  

Petty

Alas, I am not talking about this guy (RIP Tom Petty). I am talking about petty people. Is anyone else tired of this seemingly endless attitude? The "If things don't go my way, I am going to take my toys and go home." mentality? An automatic reaction of spitefulness when faced with a decision that does not go in one's particular favor? The "I am going to do what I can to sabotage your efforts" frame of mind? 

I know I a guilty of this sometimes. In today's world, it can be hard not to be petty. Difficult not to react to circumstances. And, sometimes, occasions practically scream for a less than gracious response. The hard part is making the effort to rise above the urge to be petty. There are days when I fight the urge more times than I like to admit. 

Faced with a show of pettiness from someone else, I have to make a choice. And I pray that my choice is this:

To Tell The Truth

March was a very difficult month for me. My friend Mary Alice passed away from cancer at age 57. A few days later, my 64-year-old stepbrother died after being severely burned while at work. Add normal stresses of multiple health issues and chronic fatigue and I had gotten to the point where I could not really focus on much of anything. 

As I was surfing my FireTV for something mindless to watch, I came across some 1961 episodes of an old game show. To Tell the Truth, was a favorite of my mother's way back when. I can remember watching it with her as a child in Russum, Mississippi. Tom Poston, Kitty Carlisle, Orson Bean, and Peggy Cass were regulars by the time I was old enough to remember the show. 

I decided to watch the first episode, just for kicks. It was quite a hoot to see a young Betty White, Johnny Carson, and Don Ameche. This show was just the ticket for mindless entertainment and some laughs during a difficult time. Most of the contestants were very well coached and fooled me at least half of the time. Even the commercials are a hoot, especially the ones for Anacin and Dristan. This one cracked me up. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dmk6kCNRCo0

If you need a dose of mindless fun, go check out, To Tell The Truth on Amazon Prime Video and see if you can tell who the REAL __________ is! 

"The"

*Rant Alert*

This quote by Bob Goff has really resonated with me this week. Especially the first line. GOD MAKES PEOPLE. 

If we truly believe that the good Lord made us all, then people are people. Plain and simple. At least to me. 

Recently, I have experienced a number of folks saying things that I have found offensive. I am not the kind of person who is offended by everything, but this bugs me. 

It's using THE to describe groups of PEOPLE. 

One person refers to PEOPLE who are LGBTQ as "THE Gays." Another did not want to go to a certain place because of "THE Blacks." I hear this all the time. THE Jews. THE Muslims. THE Mexicans. Since I have dear people in my life who are LGBTQ, Jewish, Black, Muslim, and Mexican I simply don't like hearing them referred to as "THE" anything. 

How about using PEOPLE instead of THE? PEOPLE of the Jewish faith. PEOPLE from the Middle East. PEOPLE who are LGBTQ. 

People are people. 

Spreading Calm

Yesterday I was at my local pharmacy when an elderly gentleman walked up fuming because they did not have his prescription filled in the time frame they promised. 

I could see that the pharmacy staff was absolutely swamped. His particular prescription required a call to another party and the pharmacist just had not had time to make that call. The gentleman sat down near me to wait some more. I could tell that he was not a happy camper. 

So, I decided to engage him in conversation. Soon, he was no longer fretting about his medicine as he told me about his late wife, his children, his jobs, etc. I was able to keep him talking until the pharmacist could finally make the call (and was put on hold for several minutes) and had his prescription ready. 

Many people do not realize that most of the delays in service in a retail environment have little to do with the staff on the floor. The corporate office only allows so many hours for employee scheduling. It is usually not enough, especially in the pharmacy. 

I actually find myself trying to spread calm quite a bit when lines are long and people are impatient. Or when their orders are wrong in a restaurant. A smile and a bit of conversation can diffuse situations that could get ugly. Fussing is not going to make a line move any faster. If someone appears to be in a tearing hurry and I am not in any kind of rush, I let them go ahead of me. A little kindness can go a long way. 

Back to pharmacists, they have one of the toughest jobs that I can imagine. Not only are they tasked with filling prescriptions, but they often have to call doctors, give flu and shingles shots, and go out on the floor to help customers decide what they need for a particular ailment. Often there is only one pharmacist on duty with only a couple of techs to help. They have people at the drive-through window, the consultation area, the drop off, and the pickup section. And everyone wants their medicine yesterday! 

So be kind to those pharmacists and other people who serve the public. And if you can help someone else be kind, do that too. It's worth it. 

Lookin' Good

One of the most recent things on Facebook is the "How Hard Did the Years Hit You" challenge. Participants are encouraged to post their first and current profile pictures side by side. 

Most of my friends have been on Facebook for around 10 years. Without exception, they look better in their current photographs. At least to me, they do. Even with a few extra wrinkles and/or gray hairs, everyone looks more relaxed. The smiles are more genuine. 

There are things about getting older that transcend mere looks and it shows in these photographs. There seems to be more wisdom in the facial expressions. More acceptance of life as it is. More of a "this is how I look now and that is OK with me" vibe. 

I remember some commercial for hair coloring back in the '70s that featured the tag line "You're not getting older, you're getting better." 

Believe it. 

Eyeglass Chains

I just ordered this eyeglass chain from 220PennyLane on Etsy. 

I seem to remember making fun of little old ladies who wore eyeglass chains when I was a kid. I seldom saw the ladies who wore them actually take their glasses off, so I thought they were just another piece of jewelry. And quite often worn on top of too many other baubles. 

Alas, time has caught up with me. I find myself taking my glasses off dozens of times a day. Despite my expensive prescription for progressive lenses, I can often see some things much better by removing my glasses and squinting. Often, there is no good place to put my glasses as I juggle them and whatever I am trying to read at the same time. So, this evening, I decided to give in to "old ladydom" and buy an eyeglass chain. I searched Etsy until I found one I liked, and reluctantly pushed the "buy now" button. 

No drugstore faux metal chain for me. If I am going to do this, it will be in style. 

Sixty IS the new 40, right? 

Loungewear?

Recently I saw an ad for plus-size lingerie in my Facebook feed. It said something to the effect of relaxing in style. This "style" was an underwire bra and form-fitting underdrawers! 

Honey, there was nothing that looked relaxing about THAT getup! 

When I want to relax, I want as little fabric next to me as possible. Granny panties and some big ole, loose-fitting jammies are much more my "style." And they don't even have to match. I am not wearing a bra unless I am leaving the house or expecting company. In my book, there is nothing about a bra that is relaxing in any way, no matter how comfortable the ad says it is. 

Come on, plus size companies. Get real. 
Seriously. 

Bryan

The photo on the left was taken last Christmas. The one on the right was taken yesterday.

My nephew, Bryan is in graduate school for electrical engineering at Mississippi State University. He has an assistantship as well as a full load of classes. As someone who did the grad school thing twice, I know how hard it is to get to a gym and count calories while juggling the rigors of post grad education. 

I had the privilege of driving Bryan home from Starkville yesterday. We talked about everything from comic books, to music, to movies, to which writing style was required for engineering papers, to where his childhood friends are now. 

The sweet, shy child I remember has become a confident, articulate young man who values friends and family. He knows what he wants in the future and has a plan to get there. He has also inspired his decrepit old Auntie to do something about her own weight. 

Keep up the good work, young nephew! 

Missing Dad

Seven years ago tonight, my Daddy passed away. Bill and I had been sitting with him in the hospital and had just been relieved by my brother-in-law. We went to get a bite to eat, and headed home. Almost as soon as we walked in the door, the phone was ringing. Daddy was gone. 

I truly believe that, on some level, a terminally ill person is able to make some choice as to his or her time of death. All three of us kids had been there when my mama died. I honestly think Daddy waited until my calm and cool brother-in-law was there before he took his final breath. I also think that he waited for my niece to get home from college to say her goodbyes. 

I never realized how much I would miss this man. And how much of him is in me. He was a social creature who had many friends and loved to visit. Daddy loved a good joke. He also had a great time razzing his Ole Miss friends when their football team was beaten by his LSU Tigers. I have his coloring and his hazel eyes. I have his sense of fair play. I try very hard to be honest and upright in all my dealings, just like he was. 

Happy 7th Heavenly Anniversary, Daddy. 

That RED stuff!

One Thanksgiving, when my brother was just a tot, he looked at his dinner and asked where the "red stuff" was. 

Puzzled, my parents and grandmother began trying to figure out what this "red stuff" was. Ketchup? No. Cherries? No. Spiced apples? No. None of those were the "red stuff" my brother was looking for. 

Finally, it was discovered that the cranberry sauce was not on the table. Mamaw found the can in the refrigerator, opened it, and put it on its little crystal tray. 

My brother apparently lit up like a Christmas tree and pointed to the cranberry sauce. THIS was the RED STUFF he had been wanting. 

Now, every Thanksgiving, we tease him about his red stuff. I don't believe it has ever been forgotten since that particular Thanksgiving Day. 

Make sure you have your "red stuff" and Happy Thanksgiving! 

Cell Phones

"If he's THAT POOR, how can he have a CELL PHONE???"

"If she has a CELL PHONE, she has to be doing OK!" 

I see this kind of thing all the time on social media. To some, when someone is poor, having a cell phone is something that they just don't deserve. How dare they have access to this pretty much necessary device if they are not working, are homeless, or owe someone money? What if it is a "hand me down phone" from a friend or family member? Could someone else be paying the bill? What would one of us give up before we gave up our cell phones? 

These days, there are few pay phones and landlines are disappearing as most people turn to cellular service only. The days of being able to go to a neighbor's house and use their phone are pretty much over. 

Contrary to popular belief, affordable "lifeline" phone services were begun by Ronald Regan, not President Obama. 

A cell phone enables people to live in the modern world, especially if they live in an area without a nearby library. An unemployed person can create a resume, apply for a job and be able to receive a call about it on a cell phone. A mother can receive a call from her child's school in case her child becomes ill. People can get news of road hazards that can help them avoid being part of an accident. A person with irregular work hours, as many low wage jobs are, can do things that usually require being available during certain hours, such as banking. 

I just can't find it in my heart to begrudge anyone a cell phone. Even if some of my tax dollars are helping to pay for service to low income and elderly folks, I consider it money well spent. 

Don't put up those shorts!

As usual, Mississippi has gone straight from Summer to almost Winter in the blink of an eye, sending us scrambling for the long pants and jackets we had stashed behind the capris and T-shirts. There was no gentle glide into Fall-like temps with maybe needing a light jacket after sundown or a lightweight, long-sleeved shirt during the day. Not in Mississippi. 

Anyone who has lived here very long also knows not to stash those Summer clothes too far away. We may very well need those shorts, t-shirts, and sandals at Thanksgiving. Or even Christmas. I hear people from other states talk about putting away their Summer clothes for the Winter. My Summer clothes are never far away. 

The same goes for Winter clothes. I remember a Summer when I was in grad school the first time around where I actually needed a sweater in June. So, it is not really safe to put all the Winter clothes away either. Of course, we have had some Winters where I never really wore what most would call Winter clothes. 

Buyers for our local stores don't seem to get Mississippi. Heavy wool clothes are out in showrooms in August when we are sweating to death and can't even imagine cooler temperatures. And most of the things are going to be too heavy for all but maybe 3 of our coldest days? Some of those buyers need to spend a year down here! 

I have heard the saying all my life "If you don't like the weather in Mississippi, give it a minute, it will change." The same goes for my wardrobe!

I'm sure none of my friends have ever gone from 90 to 55 when they saw a State Trooper. As for me...I'll never tell! 

Mocked

Merriam-Webster defines mock as to "treat with contempt or ridicule." 

This past week, I have heard survivors of sexual assault mocked, joked about, derided, and scorned. This was not just about Dr. Blasey Ford. This was an assault on all survivors.

On social media, everyone becomes an "expert." I wanted to scream when I heard people (who I know are not counselors or psychologists) profess to know exactly how a survivor should remember incidents in perfect detail. In reality, (I am a retired licensed professional counselor) it is not unusual for memories to be fragmented and incomplete. I saw this in my own practice as well as in my own life as a survivor. 

Don't even get me started on the memes about being terrified that boys will be falsely accused and have their lives ruined. Statistically, fewer than 5% of rape accusations are fabricated. 

When tRump mocked Dr. Blasey Ford at the rally in Mississippi, I wanted to reach through the TV and slap him silly. And I wanted to slap the people cheering and clapping behind him. Especially the women! How can they turn on their fellow women like that? 

Personally, I am deeply disappointed in some people I used to at least call casual friends and one or two that I felt were close friends. I honestly hope I never see them again. And there are some local people who I hope I never meet face to face. I don't need these kinds of people in my life. 

I did not tell my story until 16 years later when I went to counseling after the death of my mother. If I told my story now, would I be similarly mocked by these people? After all, the evidence was washed away that night or healed over time.

I have no proof but my word. 

And, apparently, that would mean little to some folks. 

Purple

"Is this purple?" The man asked me, holding up some crepe paper, as I was passing by him in a craft store. "Yes", I replied. He thanked me, explaining that he was color blind. He was decorating a gold tree in purple, those colors being the team colors of his wife's alma mater, Alcorn State University. 

I left him to go get the few items I was looking for. Then I went and found the gentleman again. I told him that I had plenty of time and that I would be glad to hunt for purple things with him. He told me that I was an angel and we proceeded to find all manner of purple things for his wife's tree. As we looked, we chatted and found that we had some acquaintances in common and we talked about all manner of things. I never meet a stranger. 

After we had secured tiny purple clothespins, purple pipe cleaners, purple beads, purple feathers, and a purple boa, it was decided that there was finally enough to trim this Alcorn tree. I wish I had exchanged phone numbers as I would have loved to have seen the finished product. I hope his wife approved. 

As an artist of sorts, I can't imagine not being able to see and identify colors. I am so glad that I was in the right place at the right time to go on this entertaining purple expedition. 

Why We Stayed Silent

Back in the sixties and seventies, one did not talk about sexual assault. Or, if it was talked about, it was in whispers, accompanied by the shaking of heads and the clucking of tongues.  

The victim was almost always blamed. What was she wearing? Was she somewhere she was not "supposed" to be? Had she "led him on?" In some schools, the victim could be kicked out if an assault became common knowledge because she had to have "asked for it." 

Is it any wonder we stayed silent? Our minds trying desperately to somehow "normalize" our situations, while our bodies and souls bore the scars. Counseling was something that was not common back in those days. We had no idea where to get help, or that help was even available. We came home, took showers that did not make us feel clean, and lay on our beds, curled up in fetal positions. 

We became pretty good actresses. We went to class the next day as if nothing had happened. We pasted on smiles. We couldn't understand how no one could see the pain underneath. 

Only much later, often in therapy, did we finally realize that we had to face what had happened to us. Nothing ever really goes away. It is always below the surface, shadowing our lives. We still get tears in our eyes when we hear and read of another victim being blamed. Even today. 

Is it any wonder we stayed silent? 

The Sound of Music

Last Sunday, I took my 25-year-old niece, Amy to see The Sound of Music on the big screen. This movie came out when I was 6 and I vaguely remember seeing it at the Trace Theater in Port Gibson, MS. My mama bought the soundtrack and I remember listening to it over and over and memorizing all the songs.

I saw The Sound of Music again on the big screen when my friend, Teresa and I went to a Sound of Music Sing-Along. People dressed up as the characters and were encouraged to sing along. We were given a bag of props to use during the screening, such as white flowers to wave during Edelweiss,  and a "popper" to use when the Captain kissed Maria for the first time. 

This screening was a treat. There is just something about seeing this movie on the big screen. There were so many details that I could see which are lost on a smaller screen. The twinkle in Christopher Plummer's eyes as he played the Captain, the details of the gorgeous outfits worn by the Baroness, and the majesty of the church where the Captain marries Maria.  

I got goosebumps when Maria began twirling and I smiled so much during the movie that my face hurt afterward. It has been a long time since I enjoyed a movie quite this much.

If you ever have a chance to see The Sound of Music on the big screen take it. You will not be sorry. 

Feeding Critters

My husband feeds critters. 

If it walks, runs, waddles, or wanders into our yard, my husband is going to feed it. 

I have often wondered what people would think if they came into our house when we were not here and saw bags of doggie treats...and no dogs. But, Bill keeps them on hand for the neighbor dogs who have been known to come right in and make themselves at home if the door happens to be open. This has been going on pretty much since we moved to our home 33 years ago. 

Bill does not stop at just feeding dogs, though. He has been known to feed the geese from down the road when they occasionally waddle into our yard. He had a squirrel who would sit on the feeder and eat out of his hand. 

Recently, I noticed that the $6.00 a bag shelled walnuts that I buy for Bill seemed to be going faster than usual. When asked about this, my husband replied that he was now sharing his walnuts. He has to feed the chipmunks that come up to our back steps their breakfast! They come and get it every morning. I'm looking for a cheaper source of shelled walnuts!

If you are hungry, come on over. I'm sure my husband will feed you too. 

Encouraged

Merriam-Webster defines encouraged as to inspire with courage, spirit, or hope. 

I have found it necessary to "snooze", "unfollow" or in rare cases, "unfriend" people on Facebook who insist on posting steady streams of unsubstantiated political garbage (this goes for BOTH sides of the aisle). I just get tired of seeing the same old stuff. I have fact checked it all on multiple sites, and very little, if any of it, is true. And what purpose does it serve? 

But, lately, I have gone back to these hidden friends pages and noticed a trend. Fewer people seem to be jumping on the hate wagon. Most of these posts get one or two likes, are almost never shared, and seldom commented on. Maybe I am not the only one who is tired of the constant negativity? And maybe, just maybe, some people are beginning to think before they pass on questionable, hurtful, and malicious things? 

There is a saying that "Hurt people, hurt people." I fervently hope that maybe there are fewer nasty posts because the people posting them, commenting on them, and sharing them are not hurting as much inside. 

"These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world." John 16:33