Where There's Smoke...

As I anticipate a Christmas which will most likely include my wearing capri pants, sandals, and short sleeves to Christmas dinner, I remembered one of the coldest ones I have ever experienced. 

Bill and I were talking today about one of the coldest Christmases we could remember. It was 1985 and we had been in our house just a few months. It was about 4 AM and I heard Bill urgently telling me to wake up. The house was filling with black smoke, and, although we saw no fire, we figured we better call the fire department. This was before cell phones, so we had to call 911 from our house phone. I grabbed a coat to wear over my pajamas and we went out in the front yard to wait for the fire truck. It was 9 degrees that morning. Fortunately, the problem was a (only) central heating malfunction. No fire, but also no heat! 

I am sure that the neighbors were probably not happy to have their Christmas sleep so rudely interrupted! No one ever complained, that I recall anyway.  

After the house had aired out for a while, we went in, put on some warm clothes, and headed down to Hazlehurst, to my grandmother's house. We were cold and tired, but thankful that our house, albeit smoky smelling, was OK. 

I have had several friends lose homes to fires. I feel for them. I remember those few, heart stopping minutes in 1985, when I thought we might be among them. And, every Christmas, I pause to give thanks that we were not.  

 


 

Suicide Isn't Painless

Yesterday there was a situation in the parking lot of our local Kroger store in which a gentleman of my own age (57) had a gun and was threatening to commit suicide. 

Emotions tend to run high at this time of year. Statistically, Christmas is not the most likely time to commit suicide. It is not even the most common time of the year for depression to surface. Suicide rates actually increase in January. 

Maybe it was just coincidence, but when I was working in mental health I usually volunteered to be on call over Christmas. I had no small children at home to get ready for Santa Claus. My contribution to the family gatherings was usually a tray of deviled eggs, which were easy enough to prepare. So, I took call. 

Sure enough, when I was on call Christmas Eve or Christmas Day, a suicide threat (and sometimes a homicide one!) would inevitably come in. I usually sang for Christmas Eve services somewhere, so the timing of these was sometimes dicey. It always worked out. One time I had to have someone call the sheriff on one phone while I was talking down the person on another. Thankfully, the person was always picked up and taken to get help. 

Always take a suicide threat seriously. And if you are suicidal, I know from personal experience that things are truly darkest before the dawn. There is help out there. Get it. 

Here is a list of hotlines for suicide and for other issues that don't go away just because it's Christmas, such as drug abuse and domestic violence. 

http://www.crisistextline.org/textline/?gclid=Cj0KEQiAyuPCBRCimuayhb3qqvwBEiQAgz62kU2p6tigqzufxXDsb25EYOH9aZUyrkQ-cd-6CvT2nVcaAiSy8P8HAQ

Suicide is not painless for those who love you. 
 

Still Missing Daddy

This is one of my favorite pictures of me and my Daddy. It was taken about 3 years before we found out that his prostate cancer had returned and metastasized. He was remarried, happy, and feeling pretty good. 

Tomorrow will be 5 years since he died. Some years I miss him more than others. This is one of those "really miss him" years. I am concerned about so many things. I just wish I could hear him tell me there is no use worrying about things I can't do anything about. Telling it to myself is not nearly as effective!

He loved hosting his annual Christmas Eve party. Eventually it changed to Christmas Eve Eve as everyone had different Christmas Eve church service schedules. It was when my side of the family exchanged gifts and got to be together. He was really in his element with the small children who came. It was hard to tell who was having the most fun. 

As much as I am like my mother, I see a lot of my Daddy in me as well. I am a perfectionist. I have to have things organized, and if possible, done as much in advance as is feasible. I can't just let problems go without trying to find a solution. 

Now, if I could just get this not worrying thing down! 



 

 

Finding my Voice

This Christmas night, it will be 26 years since my mama died. She always told me to say she DIED. Not passed on, not gone on to the great beyond, not expired. She had no patience for pussyfooting around! 

Mama was larger than life and was the dominant force in any and every situation she found herself in. For the most part, I was happy to sit back and let her take the lead. 

However, after mama died and I crumbled like a house of cards, I realized that I had never really found my own voice. I had to find out who I was apart from my mama. This took a LOT of therapy and a lot of work on my part. But, I found my voice. And, once I found it, I vowed never to lose it. 

It may have been a Facebook error, or even an error by a reader, but when my blog post was blocked the other day, I was furious. The thought that some unseen "friend" could, with one click, silence my voice absolutely floored me. 

The older I get, the more outspoken I become. Sometimes I inadvertently put my foot in my mouth. Sometimes my words are not as eloquent as I would wish. But, my voice is here to stay. 

Until I die! 

 

Not Silenced

Recently, I was quite shocked to find my blog post had been reported as abusive and blocked by Facebook. I have no idea why someone would have done such a thing.

Even on my blog, I am careful not to give specifics if I am writing something concerning an interaction with another person. I don't give age, sex, times, dates, etc. And, if I think someone might recognize him or herself, I don't post the link on Facebook. In this case, the person is not on Facebook, nor are any of the other parties who might guess who it might be. And, I know that none of these folks follow my blog. 

My blog is my way of recording events in my everyday life. I post them because sometimes other people may be going through the same things I am going through. It can help to feel like there is a kindred spirit out there. Sometimes I need a reality check. Sometimes, I just need support. Sometimes I just need reassurance that I am not completely crazy for feeling the way I do about an issue.

I am too old and cranky to be silenced.


 

Phone Calls

In this day and age of texting, tweeting, email, messaging, and chatting, I don't get a lot of phone calls. We still have a land line, and most of the calls on that one are either my husband's family or friends, or the dreaded telemarketers. The older I get, the less I like to talk on the phone unless the callers are family or close friends. 

After receiving a phone call recently where the caller (who I truly thought was a friend) proceeded to berate me for some real but mostly imagined sins, I got to thinking how something as simple as answering the phone can make or break a few minutes, an hour, a day, a week, a year, or even a lifetime. Most of the time, I can look at the caller ID and have a pretty good idea of what I am going to get. But I can, occasionally, be blindsided. 

I have to admit, I have let this one affect me far longer than it should. Coupled with not feeling well, having my annual December funk because I am missing my Dad, Father-in-Law, and Mama, who all died during this month, and concern for the future of my ability to receive good healthcare, it was all a little bit too much. 

A few days have been "broken" but I am determined not to let this phone call affect me any longer. Life is just too darn short. 

If this person calls again, thank God and caller ID, I will know not to answer. 



 

Missed Adventure

This is where I was supposed to be this weekend. Vermilionville is a place I have wanted to visit since I heard of it and this was going to be a 33rd anniversary celebration weekend. 

Of course, after weeks and weeks of no rain, the Heavens decided to open up on this of all weekends. This tour requires a lot of "outside" time and we were advised to wait for more clement weather. Coupled with my touch of a bug, it was a no-brainer. 

Hopefully, soon, we will be able to take our trip. I love history and this place sounds fascinating. I want to meet the Golden Girls (Sophia the hinnie, and Blanche, Rose, and Dorothy, the sheep) who spent several harrowing weeks camping out on the porch of one of the buildings during the flooding. And, I want a hug from my old theater buddy, Brady McKellar! 

Go check them out! 

https://www.facebook.com/Vermilionville/

Sonic

Yesterday, I unwittingly began a bit of a firestorm on the Vicksburg Facebook page when I posted the hourly wage of the Sonic employee. Apparently, they used to make minimum wage, but now they make a paltry $4.00 an hour. Much like sit down restaurants, they rely on tips to make up the rest of their income. Sonic employees do fare a little better in the hourly tipped wage department that their sit-down restaurant counterparts. In Mississippi, restaurant owners can get away with paying their wait staff as little as $2.13 an hour. 

Although group rules prohibit bashing local businesses, subsequent posters began a litany of complaints about poor service and bad food. Some expressed their dislike of the tipping system in general. People who had obviously never waited tables or worked fast food  considered these jobs "easy." Some folks began the familiar chorus of "these jobs are not meant for careers, just for people to get through college, etc and get REAL jobs." Ideal, yes. Realistic, no. There are huge numbers of good people who simply do not have the ability either financially or intellectually, to pursue higher education. 

As one who has worked both fast food and table waiting, there was nothing "easy" about either job. In fact, I think it would be great for society if everyone had to work at food service for at least a week. Sometimes, poor service may be due to the store being shorthanded, new people in training, or, in a recent case with one of my personal carhops, being upset over her brother being shot! I almost always get good service. I say please and thank you when I order. I always smile and thank my carhop when he or she brings my food. 

And, I always tip. 





 
 


 

Grief

When I was counseling, I used to tell my grieving clients that there were no shortcuts through grief. It pays to just go ahead and deal with the emotions as they come up, rather than trying to stuff them down. Stuffing just delays the grieving process or causes emotions to manifest via unhealthy behaviors such as overeating, drinking too much, engaging in risky behaviors, etc. 

This year has been a time of overwhelming grief for so many people I know. A dear friend lost her (too young!) mother recently. Other loved ones have had to grieve inevitable life changes and moves. Still others are grieving for things that might have been, hopes, and dreams. I lost an irreplaceable friend this past Summer. I am still grieving his loss. 

Being jeered at, sneered at, and told to "just get over it" only complicates the grieving process. Everyone grieves at his or her own pace. Grieving can became complex if it goes on for an extraordinary period of time. But, it is not realistic to expect the grieving process to be over in a week, a month, or even a year in some cases. If someone is allowed to grieve in his or her own time, it will get better. Just be patient and love them through it.  

 
 

The Gunters

I was privileged to attend a 50th wedding anniversary celebration for David and Trudy Gunter yesterday afternoon. 

I can hardly remember a time that the Gunters were not in my life. Trudy and my mother met when Mama joined the Newcomer's Club shortly after we moved to Vicksburg in 1968. David became our vet and took care of many of the Nelson dogs over the years. I remember babysitting their children, sometimes being treated to pre-performances of the girl's dance recitals or terrorized with some fake, but real looking bug by Tony. 

The Gunters have stuck by each other and my family through thick and thin. They stayed in the ICU waiting room with us the Christmas that my Mama died. They were there for my Daddy when he was dealing with his final illness. Dr. David was the one who came to the house and talked with my husband when he was facing surgery for lung cancer. Friends like this are rare and to be cherished. 

The Gunters also have three terrific kids, who are bright, accomplished, and have hearts not only for themselves and their immediate families, but for the wider world as well. They learned this from their parents, who are always helping people. 

The world needs more Gunters. May they have many more anniversaries. 

 

 





 

57

On October 12th, I will be 57 years old and I am perfectly OK with that. I am alive. I have a home and family who loves me. I have enough money for my needs and some of my "wants." I have some pretty awesome friends. I can sing and I can paint. I have my faith. I try to remember to be thankful every day for the things I have and the people in my life. 

My birthdays are always a little bittersweet. I miss my parents most on my birthday. I miss the phone calls from Daddy singing his version of Happy Birthday to me. I miss Mama making me my favorite birthday supper of hot biscuits, tomato gravy, and lemon meringue pie. 

This birthday is a particularly sobering reminder that life can be short. At 57, I will be the same age that my mother, my grandfather, and my aunt all were when they died. Although I deal with some chronic illnesses, I have the advantage of having NEVER been a smoker. They all were. 

I am planning to make this a really good year. If all goes as hoped, I want to go to Virginia and find some of my Nelson roots. I am finally going to get rid of some of the stuff that is weighing me down and cluttering my house. I have actually hired a professional organizer to help me with this and we begin this weekend. I want to learn some new songs and new art techniques. I hope to actually go out occasionally as a lay speaker for the United Methodist Church.  

Most of all, I hope to see 58! 

 

End of an Era

This Saturday, I will sit and watch my first LSU game in many years without the presence of Les Miles. It is going to be odd. 

At his best, Les made football fun. His gambles usually paid off. I could tell his players loved playing for him. Eating grass, clapping his hands, Les was obviously having the time of his life. 

I realize that in the SEC, winning really IS everything. There is simply no place for coaches who are not winning. My head gets that. It was probably past time to make a change. But, a piece of my heart will always be with Les. 

Godspeed Les. And thanks for the memories. 

 

 

Something's Gotta Give.

We all get to points in our lives where we feel like we have to give up or get rid of something in order to maintain our physical, mental, and spiritual health. The problem is in figuring out what that will be. 

My energy is limited by my neuromuscular disorder, as well as other health issues and medications. I don't get "better." I fight to maintain what I have. 

But, what goes? Watercolor classes? Church? Singing for a local nursing home? Bible study? Lay ministry? Not to mention the extensive preparation time that goes into many of these activities.

Seeing my 8 doctors is not really negotiable.  

I would like to have more time and energy to create my own art. I would like to have more time to make short trips to see family and friends. I would love to save my energy to go see movies in Jackson that don't make it here. I want to hire someone to help me clean and organize my house. I am retired and I don't have the time I want for any of this. 

I am burned out and tired.  

Something's got to give. But what? 

 

Worth the Price

I have to admit it. I am exhausted. I am so sore that even my hair hurts. Holding up my head tonight is taking quite an effort and I am slightly dizzy. 

But, this weekend was totally worth the way I feel tonight and will probably feel for the next few days. I got to make a short trip to Memphis to see my longtime BFF, Teresa, perform in a cabaret style musical show. And, ladies and gents, she was a hit! 

Back when I was in my twenties and early thirties, I did quite a few shows at the Vicksburg Little Theater. Teresa would drive down to see my shows, even missing the birth of her niece to see me perform. Now, I get to return the favor. 


Of course, this show was on the same weekend as our Charge Conference at Hermanville United Methodist Church!  I came home Saturday afternoon, made a trip to Corner Market who "baked" for me, and finished getting things ready for our visit from District Superintendent, Stephen Cook. What a lovely, uplifting man he is. Still fatigued after only about 8 hours sleep in two nights, I was able to enjoy this morning's service. 

Yes, I am tired. I am hurting. I am going to have to get some rest. But, sometimes I just have to push it a little for the things that are worth it. 

And this weekend was worth it! 

 

Star Trek

I first watched Star Trek, as a 6 year old,  on a black and white Zenith TV. Said TV sported rabbit ears and was situated in the room that I, my mother, my brother, and my sister all shared in Russum, Mississippi. 

From the beginning, I absolutely loved it. I was too young and unsophisticated to be put off by the cheesy sets and painfully fake aliens. I was enchanted at the idea of people being out in Space. I loved Spock's exotic ears. I am pretty certain that the first Scottish accent I heard was that of James Doohan as Scotty. Sulu was the second Asian I saw on TV, the first being Hop Sing on Bonanza. But, Sulu was completely different. No pigeon English. No pigtail. 

Fifty years later, I am still a Star Trek fan. I watch TOS and the subsequent series during reruns on TV and on Netflix. I actually drag myself to the movie theater for any Star Trek theatrical releases. I still have some of my Star Trek fiction paperbacks. The Kobayashi Maru remains an enduring favorite. I chat with Trekkie friends and am delighted when someone greets me with the "Live Long and Prosper" sign. 

We have much of the technology pictured in the Star Trek series now. However, I am still waiting for the invention of a real transporter! Who knows? It could happen!

Live Long and Prosper!

 

Cafeteria Anxiety

Last Wednesday, I found myself having a case of "cafeteria anxiety." 

Cafeteria anxiety goes back all the way to my elementary school days. I was not one of the popular kids and most of my friends were in the grade below mine. I would start to sit down somewhere, only to have the person I was planning to sit beside plonk down a sweater or book and tell me I couldn't sit there. By junior high, I was taking my lunch and eating outside on the patio to avoid lunchtime exclusion. Fortunately, I had the same lunch period as several of my band friends, so lunch became much more pleasant. 

Later, as I attended church and other gatherings, usually alone due to my husband's work schedule, the old elementary school cafeteria anxiety reared it's head again. Chairs were leaned against tables, purses saved seats. Of course friends wanted to sit together. I finally stopped going to most things like this unless I had someone specific to go with. 

A couple of weeks ago, I began going to supper at First United Methodist Clinton and taking a study given by my former pastor. Like most things of this sort, some tables are sort of "saved." I spent too much of the day anxious about finding a place to eat and wondering if I should just go to the study and skip supper. But, I got there early, sat at a table that had been fairly empty the week before, and prepared myself to move if this was someone's particular table. 

Happily, I was joined by a lovely young woman with two adorable young children. She was fairly new to the church and was delighted to have someone to sit with (her words!). We struck up a conversation and found we had several things in common. Best of all, no one made me feel like I was intruding or in the way. I will probably sit in the same place this week and hope the nice woman and her children sit with me again.

Here's to new friends and new tables. 

 

 

Mike

I was shocked and saddened today to read the news of my friend, Mike's, passing at the age of 41. 

I met Mike years ago when he was waiting tables at Toney's. My father-in-law loved to eat there and Mike usually waited on him. Mr. Sanders was a widower and went there as much for the company as for the food, I think. Mike always paid Mr. S special attention and, no matter how busy, found a little time to chat with him. When you have an elderly parent, that kind of thing means a lot. 

When Mr. Sanders passed away in 2012, Mike was our waiter when the family got together at Toney's after the funeral. He joined in both our grief and our joy that our loved one was finally at peace. 

Later, Mike took a job selling cars for Atwood Chevrolet. I would go in and visit with him between customers. We had similar ways of thinking about a number of issues and it was just a joy to converse with him. When he lost his infant son, I stopped by with chocolate milkshakes on a regular basis to try to get some weight back on his skinny frame. 

Mike had his struggles with alcohol and was extremely proud of his sobriety. He loved his family. He loved his friends. He never failed to have a kind word and a hug for me. Ever. 

God rest you, sweet Mike. I'll see you in Heaven. 

 

Bumper Stickers

My husband does not like bumper stickers and will not have them on our vehicles. It is an aesthetic thing for him. For harmony's sake, this is something I just don't argue with him about.

I read stories this morning of not one, but TWO of the kindest, nicest people I know have been harassed by Trump supporters for their bumper stickers. Ironically, one of them had  "Give God the Glory" emblazoned in large letters on his back windshield. REALLY???

This is America. I may not agree with another persons choice of candidate, but cursing, harassing, and rude gesturing while driving is not only rude and uncalled for. It is UNSAFE, for crying out loud. 

I came very close to buying the bumper sticker pictured above at the Fair Trade Store today. Critical thinking is definitely not practiced nearly enough these days. But, on days like this, I could bypass the critical. I would be happy if people would just THINK. 

 



 

The Russians

I don't remember Duck and Cover myself, but I can remember older students talking about it. As if hiding under a desk was really any protection from an attack by the ultimate Bogeyman of my childhood...THE RUSSIANS! 

The first time I heard the test of the Emergency Broadcast System, I was scared out of my wits. It took my mama some time to reassure me that this was just something they put on TV periodically so that people would know what to look for and what to do in case THE RUSSIANS really attacked. Oddly enough, I don't remember her offering any platitudes about how that would never happen. 

When the Soviet Union was dissolved, I forgot about THE RUSSIANS for awhile. Other things seemed to be bigger threats. I was busy caring for an ailing mother and being a young wife. I did not live in the kind of fear I did when I was a child. 

I born during the Cold War. With Russia very much in the news lately, I find myself instinctively feeling that childhood fear of THE RUSSIANS. How can anyone born and reared during the Cold War forget the fear of total annihilation we lived with? I am having to cling to my faith as never before, remembering the 21 times that Jesus told us to "fear not", "don't be afraid", and to "have courage." 

Giving in to fear is not the answer. At least, not for me. 

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

 

 

Let There Be Peace on Earth

I am certain that I am not the only one who is weary of turning on the television or logging into a news site and hearing news of horrific acts of violence all over the world. Ironically, yesterday, I was thinking not only of the USA, but Paris and Turkey as I chose this song for the anthem last Sunday. 

Until I got home from church, I did not know that yet another horrific police slaying was taking place right down the road in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. I began making phone calls to check on my loved ones there.  Thankfully, everyone was OK, but some of them were closer to the violence than I would have wished. 

I am so weary of the black and white, uncompromising thinking of today's world. Let there be peace, not just in America, but all over the world.