http://www.leestjohnauthor.com/wp-admin/post.php?post=258&action=editKissing Cuzins
9/10/http://www.leestjohnauthor.com/wp-admin/post.php?post=258&action=editKissing Cuzins
9/10/17- I am their guest blogger today: https://bienvenuepressblog.wordpress….
Author Lee St. John stops by The Front Porch today to tell us a story. Grab a cup of coffee and enjoy!
Found in the Closet: 1971 Bass Saddle Oxford Shoes
I’ve been kissed by a President. Yup. You read that correctly.
After high school graduation and before attending college, I didn’t have a summer job. I tried to enjoy those last free days before leaving home. That summer of 1971, I volunteered to help my county’s Chamber of Commerce participate in the STAY AND SEE GEORGIA campaign. The Georgia Department of Industry, Trade, and Tourism planned celebration activities at Lenox Square Mall (which in 1971 was an open air mall with breezeways connecting the stores). They planned to bring together partners in Georgia’s tourism industry to showcase Georgia’s assets and spread a message of “Stay and See Georgia.” Don’t spend your travel dollars elsewhere. With 159 counties to choose among, they wanted travelers to stay and see what Georgia offered.
The campaign was one week long and several of us YOUNG GIRLS manned the booth for our county. We wore our high school’s matching cheerleading outfits so we would all look uniformed. The uniform top was a solid red vest with an Oxford cloth white Peter Pan collared shirt, which the length of the sleeves came to our elbow. We had on white knee socks with still-in-my-closet Bass Saddle Oxford shoes. The knee socks had a tassel at the fold at the top. The skirt was mighty short. It was only as long as your fingertips by your side. The uniform had a red and black pleated plaid skirt for our school colors.
Our county’s only treasure which we promoted was a Roman Catholic Church. Our Lady of the Holy Spirit Monastery belonged to the world-wide Order of Cistercians of the Strict Observance, or more commonly known as Trappists. This tourist attraction had individuals of all faiths flock to the monastery. The Monastery is sustained through The Abbey Store, a stained glass manufacturing business, a bonsai garden plant and supply business, donations, a green cemetery, and onsite retreats. One can experience this serenity of restful recollection and spiritual renewal retreat on the 2,100 acres for a day, or as long as a week.
Later, in October, 1990, a Conyers, Georgia homemaker by the name of Nancy Fowler claimed that the Virgin Mary appeared and instructed her to relay Mary’s message to all citizens of the United States. The directive ranged from admonitions to prayers to warnings of war. The Virgin’s supposed visits made Conyers one of the longest-lived Marian apparition sites in the nation. Roads going to Mrs. Fowler’s home were clogged with pilgrims yearning to hear Mary’s message. Crowds as large at 80,000 were not uncommon and Fowler had to broadcast her messages over loudspeakers. The overflow of people finally expanded from her yard to her next door pasture. There they prayed in their native tongues (English, Spanish, Russian, and Chinese), filled bottles with water from the Blessed Well, and they opened a bookstore, they even made and sold their own bumper stickers at the store that read, “Eat, Drink, and See Mary!” Not really. But the bumper stickers did exist.
Local government official became wary of the traffic, health, and safety problems and the Archdiocese of Atlanta became concerned that these unconfirmed visions might distract from the true faith. After 1998, pilgrimages to Conyers became less frequent.
But in 1971, we finished our week chatting with buyers at the mall and handing out brochures of information. It came to a climax when the Governor’s Mansion held a reception for all participants. They feted us to munchies and punch for our week of hard work. We also stood in the receiving line to meet and thank our host and hostess, the Georgia governor and his wife.
Telling my aunt about our upcoming reception, she mentioned we were related (in the South we call it kin) to Jimmy Carter. While in line, I approached the couple. I shook Rosalyn’s hand first and then when I was in front of the Governor, I said, “My aunt researched our family tree and found out we are cousins.” I moved on to the next person to shake his hand. From my peripheral vision, I saw Jimmy Carter leaning in closer to me and then he planted a big kiss on my cheek and said, “I always kiss my cousins!”
Telling this story years later in the 1990’s to a classroom full of high school students, I prefaced my story with “I have been kissed by a President.”
Their response? “Who was it? Bill Clinton?”
lsjAuthor and humorist known for her Southern Charm, Lee St. John writes for the Newnan Times-Herald in Georgia – the same newspaper where her idol, Lewis Grizzard started. A popular stand-up comedienne and lecturer, she has published 5 books/2 audio books in the SHE’S A KEEPER! series. A Georgia Peach by birth and an adopted Alabama Camellia, Lee splits her time and humor between her Georgia newspaper column and as a radio and TV-contributor for the Charter Cable Network in Alabama.
While most of Lee’s roguish memoirs are inspired by the family funnies of Erma Bombeck, by the down-South flavor of humorist Lewis Grizzard, by the honesty of Ali Wentworth’s entertaining memoirs, and by the inappropriate frisky behaviors of any SEINFELD episode, she also expresses sentimental anecdotes. This she-devil with a halo, Southern Belle who doesn’t play by the rules, and prankster setting her next trap, inflicts her mayhem but she does it with a heart. The mementos found in her closet, attic, basement, and even her former school classroom unleash her secrets about mothers, husbands, former boyfriends, children, friends, jobs, families, students, and more.
Lee St. John is found on every dang social media outlet. She continues to rank #1 on Amazon’s Best Sellers under Humor & Entertainment Essays Kindle e-books short reads. Married for 34 years, Lee and her husband have 2 grown sons, a tater-tot dog, OBIE, and a kitty, BOO. Oh, and Lee LOVES to laugh.
Social Media Links:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/leestjohnauthor
Instagram: https://instagram.com/leestjohnauthor/
Website: http://www.leestjohnauthor.com/
Twitter: @LeeStJohnauthor
Newspaper: Newnan Times-Herald Contributor
Television & Radio: WAXC-TV Alabama Charter Cable Network; 97.5 FM
Kowaliga Radio
Blog: www.leestjohnauthor.com/blog/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show…
Pinterest: LeeStJohnAuthor
17- I am their guest blogger today: https://bienvenuepressblog.wordpress….
Author Lee St. John stops by The Front Porch today to tell us a story. Grab a cup of coffee and enjoy!
Found in the Closet: 1971 Bass Saddle Oxford Shoes
I’ve been kissed by a President. Yup. You read that correctly.
After high school graduation and before attending college, I didn’t have a summer job. I tried to enjoy those last free days before leaving home. That summer of 1971, I volunteered to help my county’s Chamber of Commerce participate in the STAY AND SEE GEORGIA campaign. The Georgia Department of Industry, Trade, and Tourism planned celebration activities at Lenox Square Mall (which in 1971 was an open air mall with breezeways connecting the stores). They planned to bring together partners in Georgia’s tourism industry to showcase Georgia’s assets and spread a message of “Stay and See Georgia.” Don’t spend your travel dollars elsewhere. With 159 counties to choose among, they wanted travelers to stay and see what Georgia offered.
The campaign was one week long and several of us YOUNG GIRLS manned the booth for our county. We wore our high school’s matching cheerleading outfits so we would all look uniformed. The uniform top was a solid red vest with an Oxford cloth white Peter Pan collared shirt, which the length of the sleeves came to our elbow. We had on white knee socks with still-in-my-closet Bass Saddle Oxford shoes. The knee socks had a tassel at the fold at the top. The skirt was mighty short. It was only as long as your fingertips by your side. The uniform had a red and black pleated plaid skirt for our school colors.
Our county’s only treasure which we promoted was a Roman Catholic Church. Our Lady of the Holy Spirit Monastery belonged to the world-wide Order of Cistercians of the Strict Observance, or more commonly known as Trappists. This tourist attraction had individuals of all faiths flock to the monastery. The Monastery is sustained through The Abbey Store, a stained glass manufacturing business, a bonsai garden plant and supply business, donations, a green cemetery, and onsite retreats. One can experience this serenity of restful recollection and spiritual renewal retreat on the 2,100 acres for a day, or as long as a week.
Later, in October, 1990, a Conyers, Georgia homemaker by the name of Nancy Fowler claimed that the Virgin Mary appeared and instructed her to relay Mary’s message to all citizens of the United States. The directive ranged from admonitions to prayers to warnings of war. The Virgin’s supposed visits made Conyers one of the longest-lived Marian apparition sites in the nation. Roads going to Mrs. Fowler’s home were clogged with pilgrims yearning to hear Mary’s message. Crowds as large at 80,000 were not uncommon and Fowler had to broadcast her messages over loudspeakers. The overflow of people finally expanded from her yard to her next door pasture. There they prayed in their native tongues (English, Spanish, Russian, and Chinese), filled bottles with water from the Blessed Well, and they opened a bookstore, they even made and sold their own bumper stickers at the store that read, “Eat, Drink, and See Mary!” Not really. But the bumper stickers did exist.
Local government official became wary of the traffic, health, and safety problems and the Archdiocese of Atlanta became concerned that these unconfirmed visions might distract from the true faith. After 1998, pilgrimages to Conyers became less frequent.
But in 1971, we finished our week chatting with buyers at the mall and handing out brochures of information. It came to a climax when the Governor’s Mansion held a reception for all participants. They feted us to munchies and punch for our week of hard work. We also stood in the receiving line to meet and thank our host and hostess, the Georgia governor and his wife.
Telling my aunt about our upcoming reception, she mentioned we were related (in the South we call it kin) to Jimmy Carter. While in line, I approached the couple. I shook Rosalyn’s hand first and then when I was in front of the Governor, I said, “My aunt researched our family tree and found out we are cousins.” I moved on to the next person to shake his hand. From my peripheral vision, I saw Jimmy Carter leaning in closer to me and then he planted a big kiss on my cheek and said, “I always kiss my cousins!”
Telling this story years later in the 1990’s to a classroom full of high school students, I prefaced my story with “I have been kissed by a President.”
Their response? “Who was it? Bill Clinton?”
lsjAuthor and humorist known for her Southern Charm, Lee St. John writes for the Newnan Times-Herald in Georgia – the same newspaper where her idol, Lewis Grizzard started. A popular stand-up comedienne and lecturer, she has published 5 books/2 audio books in the SHE’S A KEEPER! series. A Georgia Peach by birth and an adopted Alabama Camellia, Lee splits her time and humor between her Georgia newspaper column and as a radio and TV-contributor for the Charter Cable Network in Alabama.
While most of Lee’s roguish memoirs are inspired by the family funnies of Erma Bombeck, by the down-South flavor of humorist Lewis Grizzard, by the honesty of Ali Wentworth’s entertaining memoirs, and by the inappropriate frisky behaviors of any SEINFELD episode, she also expresses sentimental anecdotes. This she-devil with a halo, Southern Belle who doesn’t play by the rules, and prankster setting her next trap, inflicts her mayhem but she does it with a heart. The mementos found in her closet, attic, basement, and even her former school classroom unleash her secrets about mothers, husbands, former boyfriends, children, friends, jobs, families, students, and more.
Lee St. John is found on every dang social media outlet. She continues to rank #1 on Amazon’s Best Sellers under Humor & Entertainment Essays Kindle e-books short reads. Married for 34 years, Lee and her husband have 2 grown sons, a tater-tot dog, OBIE, and a kitty, BOO. Oh, and Lee LOVES to laugh.
Social Media Links:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/leestjohnauthor
Instagram: https://instagram.com/leestjohnauthor/
Website: http://www.leestjohnauthor.com/
Twitter: @LeeStJohnauthor
Newspaper: Newnan Times-Herald Contributor
Television & Radio: WAXC-TV Alabama Charter Cable Network; 97.5 FM
Kowaliga Radio
Blog: www.leestjohnauthor.com/blog/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show…
Pinterest: LeeStJohnAuthor
Did you have a hard time naming your children? When I hear from teachers, they especially find it hard to name one of their own after teaching a few rascals so they wouldn’t dare use the names of those students for their own. They might turn out like those little hooligans.I enjoyed the book, “Freakanomics” by Steven D. Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner. The subtitle is “A Rogue Economist Explores the Hidden side of Everything.” It redefines the way we look at the modern world.
Chapter Six’s title is, “Perfect Parenting, Part II; or: Would a Rhoshanda by Any Other Name Smell as Sweet?” The focus is on names.
“The belief in parental power is manifest in the first official act a parent commits: giving the baby a name,” the authors write. “As any modern parent knows, the baby-naming industry is booming, as evidenced by a proliferation of books, websites, and baby-name consultants. Many parents seem to believe that a child cannot prosper unless it is hitched to the right name; names are seen to carry great aesthetic or even predictive powers.”
Is naming destiny?
With our firstborn, we had a heck of a time. I found the book, “Parents’ Book of Baby Names” by Martin Kelly. It contained the origins, history, meanings, nicknames, and derivations of hundreds of female and male names. But then Freakanomics made me think, can a name be damaging to one’s psyche?
I asked my friends on Facebook to tell me about actual people they know or knew that I could add to the list. These are real people, remember. Here they are:
Crystal Fountain was a school mate.
Miss White married Mr. Green and moved to Gray, Georgia.
Another White gal, Bonnie, married Ken Knight. Did you figure out she was then Bonnie White Knight?
Dr. Strait is a Cartersville orthodontist.
Jimmy Shivers’ father was in the refrigeration business.
A friend’s parents’ actual names are Dick and Jane.
Someone knows a Jay Bird and Sonny, Dusty, Wendy, Stormy, and Misty Williams.
A friend worked with a girl named Holly Bush.
My Jazzercise instructor had an aunt named Kat Knapp and her daughter-in-law was Nita Knapp.
A neighbor knew a girl in high school named Polly Sachs (pronounced socks). Her middle name was Esther. Now say it all together…that’s right – polyester socks.
I went to college with a Twinkle Starr. Twinkle was born April 1.
A preschool teacher said she went to school with a guy named Rusty Carr.
A high school teacher graduated with a Honey Buns.
A flight attendant knows a Lulu Bob from Tyty, Georgia.
An octogenarian in the neighborhood went to school with Ima June Bugg.
A former choir member of mine knew a Safety Furst who was a doctor in Oklahoma.
A high school girlfriend knew a Brick Stone.
And here’s a grand finale name:
A good friend mentioned to me about their friend, Bubba. You know, Bubba is a great Southern name. It usually comes from someone younger in a family calling a male sibling, a brother, “Bubba” because they can’t say “brother.” And so it sticks.
If you live in the South, you know lots of Bubbas.
But these brothers grow up. Johnny turns into John. Ricky turns into Rick. Billy turns into Bill. But what do Bubbas do?
This Bubba turned into a Delta airline captain. He realized how unprofessional it would be if he kept his common name as they announced over the speaker to the passengers, “Ladies and gentlemen, today you will be in the good hands of Captain Bubba…”
Lee St. John, a retired Coweta County high school English teacher, is the author of five humorous books and two audio books.
Not to mention armadillos, fox, deer, coyotes, birds, and our various normal house pets. We’ve got us a regular nature preserve over here. Or petting zoo – *Pet At Your Own Risk*.
My neighborhood has been in the news lately because of the black bear sighting. The Wildlife Resources Division hasn’t found such, as yet. But I can tell you for certain, I KNOW there was a bobcat. He was in my backyard. About a month ago. Around 6:15 a.m. I heard this screeching noise and awoke from one of my few sleeping-through-the-night chances. I walked outside thinking it was a screech owl. The shriek was heard first on the right side of my wooded back yard, then middle, and then moved to the left all within about five minutes. Because of foliage from the trees and bushes, I did not see anything that early morning. But I heard it.
My youngest son was ah, hem, visiting and came outside to join me. He also heard the sound. Then it was over. He thought it was a bobcat. And sure enough, he researched it and there was an audio to what sound a bobcat makes and without a doubt, it was. (I googled screech owl. Guess what? Screech owls don’t screech. What the …?)
One early morning while walking her dog, my neighbor SWEARS she saw a cougar. I can’t dispute her. She’s a close friend. But, really? Let’s describe a cougar for minute. Its height is 2-3 feet with the male weighing 120-220 lbs. and the female weighing 64-140 lbs. as adults. They are tawny brown in color and have a long tail.
My friend’s across-the-street-neighbor has two Rhodesian Ridgebacks secured by an electric fence. Let’s compare. The Ridgeback doesn’t usually bark. The cougar did not bark or growl. The Ridgeback is athletically built, as the cougar. The dog is of the same height as the cat and if female, the same weight. The breed is signified and reserved with strangers, hence no need for her hollering for “HELP” when she first saw the big kitty. Ridgebacks are confident and I’d say so are cougars. Both are brown, short haired animals with long tails. I’m just saying. Could it be? But don’t tell her I doubted that she saw a mountain lion in Newnan. I heard a bobcat, so who am I to judge?
Black bear? Well, that’s different. One could have visited from Mississippi. You know that ‘Ole Miss changed their official mascot from Colonel Reb (looking like Colonel Sanders) to the Rebel Black Bear in 2010. The state is home to two types of black bears – the American black bear and the Louisiana black bear. I don’t know which one was seen here and spotted by my neighbors in their cars (thank goodness). Around lunchtime it walked along the side of my house –another one? – crossed the street in front of my home, and joined a tree-lined sidewalk, then continued on toward the tennis courts, pool, clubhouse, and lake until out of sight. Pretty courageous. Oh, and when seen, it was trash pick-up day. Now we know what lured him.
To this day the WRD has no surveillance. But I am telling you, like in the movie, “Poltergeist”, when the little blonde daughter turned to her parents and said, “They’re here,”… they are.
I am not a dentist. Although I am a regular on a morning TV show on Alabama’s Charter Cable, I do not play one on TV. I just play one at home. And I promise you I can save you some money for yourself or your children. You dentists out there reading this, stop now. You don’t want to know the information I am passing on to the readers.
I don’t fear dentists now, but as a little girl growing up my hometown dentist was terrifying. If you are of a certain generation like I am (they call us BABY BOOMERS), you will remember that dentists worked on Saturdays. Mother was a teacher and I was in school. So, except for the summers, we made one of our twice a year dental appointments on Saturdays during the school year.
This hometown dentist had a stomach ailment that caused his lower torso (which was leaning in close to my ear as he worked in my mouth) to erupt in a cacophony of intestinal sounds. He was miserable and made me miserable because he yelled at me a lot telling me to “Breath through your nose. Breathe through your nose!” Yeah, that was going to help me relax. When he yelled one too many times which upset me, I threw up on him.
But I digress.
Let me give you my ‘how to play dentist’ techniques that worked fabulously for me. You CAN try this at home. I say go for it.
I inherited my mother’s diastema, which is the space between your front teeth caused by the muscle behind them. Mother’s and mine were on the upper front two teeth. I wanted to rid myself from this Alfred E. Newman-Mad-Magazine-Cover-gap. The rest of my teeth were perfectly straight and I never had to wear braces and only had a few cavities. One dentist told me once, “You are not going to help me pay for my dental practice.” And, readers, you too, will now have the Lee St. John’s DO-IT-YOURSELF-DENTAL-GUIDE to help you avoid costs as well. Dentists – stop reading now!
With the help from a high school classmate who did wear braces and who contributed the rubbers bands from his roll (again you BBoomers should know about this) during our French hour-long-class, I attached 2 rubber bands around my 4 front teeth and forced those upper incisors together. It only took 2 weeks, too. One hour a day for two weeks. Think how much money you are going to save! There’s your first lesson.
Second lesson is a little trickier. When I told my students this story, because they were underage, I referred to my long neck glass container as a Coca-Cola bottle. But since you all are over the drinking age, YOU KNOW what that amber bottle was in reality. Let’s begin from the top: I was in an establishment that served ice-cold foamy refreshments in tall bottles. While holding mine in my right hand, someone pushed by me, hit my elbow causing the long neck to bump into my front tooth. Hurting, I rubbed my tongue over the spot and realized there was a crevice along the bottom edge.
When I returned home, I looked in my bathroom mirror and saw the arc in my front tooth where just the hour before there wasn’t one. OMGosh! Now what? Can you guess? Since I am a do-it-yourselfer, I took my angel hair nail file and….WHY NOT? I was already numb. I had to be careful not to take off too much to keep it pretty even with the twin tooth. Or hit a nerve.
Don’t let your dentist know about these dental tips. I am trying to help you out here with obviously saving the big bucks for such little problems. I mean, I’ve been figuring out my own teeth dilemmas for years. At this moment, I’ve lost my tooth-grinding protector and am using pacifier. So, you’re welcome.
I should have gone to dental school but grades wouldn’t let me.
My neighborhood has a Sunshine Committee. My school had one, too. The intent of the Sunshine Committee “gifts” is to provide a small token of esteem and consideration when faculty members/neighbors are celebrating a happy occasion or facing a challenging time in their lives. I was once the captain of the neighborhood group. To learn about our residents’ concerns, needs, or happy events, I asked for 12 volunteer co-captains of various ages, interests, and different address locations throughout my community so that we might hear about where our committee was most needed in our growing neighborhood.
Another reason for 12 co-captains was to have each lady only be in “charge” (personally responsible) for one month of their choosing throughout the year. I just kept the machine running during the year by little reminders about their volunteer commitment. These co-captains in turn had a sign-up list of residents who offered their services and were willing to look after any of their near-by residents during especially trying times. With the 13 of us listening out to help others, we covered the ‘hood pretty well.
When I signed up to cook an entire meal for someone and as I dropped it off, over the years when the homeowner answered the door, I heard, “You are so sweet to do this…blah, blah, blah.”
I AM NOT SWEET! I may be nice, considerate, kind, friendly, welcoming, courteous, gracious, helpful, or well-mannered (no, I am not that either – I mean as a Southern Belle I know better but I can’t help myself sometimes), but I am certainly not SWEET! And I would say so immediately after I received that compliment, which took the receiver of my kind-heartedness aback. I would say, “I am NOT sweet.”
Now let me tell you what SWEET stereotypically is: Someone who is good-natured. They are generally upbeat. They are admired. They are amiable, pleasant, and genial but are often naive individuals who can be something of a pushover and rarely stands up for oneself. And sometimes icky SWEET people make me sick. Just like real sweets to eat, how much can one take and how can someone be THAT good and perfect all the time? YUK!
So I stop that idea of being SWEET in its tracks. Because let me tell you who is sweet: Rose Nyland from the “Golden Girls” TV show. You can’t help but love, Love, LOVE her but, I swear, the rest of her roommates could really run all over her. Am I right? Luckily for her, she didn’t always know it (is that another description of SWEET?).
I’d rather be NICE. I think NICE is the same as sweet without the ‘run-over part’, or a cheerful-disposition-all-the-time part, or maybe even a stupidly-happy-part. I wish I could use the other Betty White performance as Sue Ann Nivens from THE MARY TYLER MOORE SHOW as the NICE personality. Although “…Sue Ann presented an image of a sweet, perfect wife and homemaker on-screen, she was actually sardonic, man-obsessed, and very competitive, with a tumultuous home life off-screen. Always with her trademark dimpled smile, she was cruel and snide toward people she did not like or considered a threat.” Wikipedia
I can’t but at least they made her REAL.
As a wordsmith, communication matters. Using the right words matter. Description matters. And I am telling you for the last time, don’t ever call me sweet. I AM NOT SWEET.
It rained on Monday morning and Tuesday a bit more,
The next day the sun peeked out but then began to pour.
Thursday’s rainstorms came down hard; Friday’s an encore,
Weekend’s forecast was to shine, but gave what came before.
By: Lee St. John
All this rain makes me want to write, read (especially English novels for some reason), and play board games. We were with friends playing Scrabble not too long ago and I hope we still are friends after the night we had in their home and the fallout soon after.
Hubby and I were playing against another couple. With only four letters left, I played on a triple word score square the word ‘JIVE’. And with that move, I used ALL my letters. Hubby and I won. Game over.
Our male host was going to have none of it. He said, “There is no such word as ‘jive’.” His wife agreed with us that there was such a word. We looked to see if the word could be found in the dictionary using our iphones. And there it was. But the host retrieved his family dictionary from their book shelf, with a copyright older than 1973, and could not find it. He then pulled out the rules of the game and read them to us with this statement, “If a word cannot be found in the HOST’s dictionary, it is not a word.”
Because of this squabble, our evening came to an end. We left but I wasn’t about to let this go. The host was a very smart man and won a lot of arguments so I wondered if I could trip him up. I hatched a plan. You know the saying, “Don’t get mad; get even.”
This Scrabble-playing couple was in our dinner club and another evening of dinner and conviviality was coming up soon. Among the other four couples were our associate pastor and his wife. I called our friends and begged them to please incorporate the word ‘jive’ into their normal conversation that evening especially when chatting with our Scrabble male host. For instance, “We saw a ‘jive’ of a movie last week.” “I started ‘jiving’ when my favorite song came on my car radio.” Our pastor always blessed the food before we ate and I suggested he could say, “Bless this ‘jiving’ food.”
And they did.
I watched for any sign of the board-game-player’s face when ‘jive’ came out of the mouths of our dinner club participants without his knowledge of the ruse. Then the light bulb moment must have come on. He realized he had been had.
He looked over at me and said, “You win!”
My stubbornness and the rain have something in common.
I always said that I would stay out of the political fray. I am NOT discussing politics in these columns. I refuse to express my opinion about anything to do with our current political situation. But I am going to break that rule here and now. As far as I know, President Trump does not currently have a pet in the White House.
And that just ain’t right.
From George Washington’s American Staghounds, Coonhounds, and Greyhounds, United States Presidents and their families have often had pets while serving in office. I especially like knowing about the pets and the names they were/are given and WHY, if there is a story to be told.
President Theodore Roosevelt had more than dogs while he served in office. His collection included guinea pigs, ponies, a hen, a lizard, Manchester Terrier, a blue Macaw, a garter snake, mixed breed dogs, other terriers, a small bear, a piebald rat, a badger, a regular pig, a rabbit, Mongrel, a Pekingese, a Bull terrier, cats, a hyena, a Saint Bernard, barn owl, a Chesapeake Bay Retriever, and a one-legged rooster. That sounds about right.
Do you know about the rumors surrounding Franklin Roosevelt, who in 1944 accidentally left behind his Scottish Terrier, Fala, in the Aleutian Islands where he visited? AT THE TAXPAYERS EXPENSE, he spent thousands of dollars to retrieve his dog? He explained, “You can criticize me, my wife, and my family, but you can’t criticize my little dog…” That’s good enough for me.
Other presidents who owned and loved their pets included John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, James Monroe, John Quincy Adams, Andrew Jackson, Martin Van Buren, William Henry Harrison, John Tyler, James K. Polk, Zachary Taylor, Millard Fillmore, Franklin Pierce, James Buchanan, Abraham Lincoln, Andrew Johnson, Ulysses S. Grant, Rutherford B. Hayes, James A. Garfield, Chester A. Arthur, Grover Cleveland, Benjamin Harrison, William McKinley, William Howard Taft, Woodrow Wilson, Warren G. Harding, Calvin Coolidge, Herbert Hoover, Harry S. Truman, Dwight D. Eisenhower, John F. Kennedy, Lyndon Johnson, Richard Nixon, Gerald Ford, Jimmy Carter, Ronald Reagan, George H.W. Bush, Bill Clinton, George W. Bush, and Barack Obama. Is that everyone?
If you are from the South, who wouldn’t love naming their dog, GRITS, like President Carter?
I am not saying Trump DOESN’T have a pet in the White House, we just don’t know yet. But I hope he does. And what he might name them would be interesting. One daughter is Tiffany and a son is Barron. Would his pets names be as interesting? I had a friend who named his Golden Retriever, Midas. That might be a name he’d like.
King Midas
My baby is named after a Looney Tune cartoon character. (Of course.) Who didn’t love Mel Blanc, the ONE man behind ALL the cartoon voices? Although Foghorn and Leghorn were my favorite, I couldn’t help but be impressed with his Southern Colonel, all dressed in white like KFC’s Colonel Sanders, calling his dog with his syrupy Southern accent from the front porch of his plantation home, “Oh, Belvedere! Come heah, boy!” I played the YouTube clip from that scene and Hubby and I cracked up every time we viewed that 30-second clip (during cocktail hour – of course it was funny). Belvedere was out somewhere way-far-away on the property. Hearing his master’s voice, he came a-runnin’…over bogs, under fallen tree limbs, all-the-while being distracted by squirrels and rabbits, until after some length of time he finally made his way home. But because his erratic journey took so long, the colonel gave up and went inside before his faithful companion made it to the front door. And of course, the look on Belvedere’s face was priceless – “What the…?”
I am a sucker for all those tests that show up on-line, mostly on Facebook, that can tell your Intellectual Quotient, your Emotional Quotient, your aura color, your top personality traits, which movie star you look like, what literary character you are most like, etc. all in 10 – 20 questions. I’m a S-U-C-K-E-R!
I have a) the highest FACEBOOK IQ, b) the most tenderhearted EQ, c) every color of the rainbow when I retake that color test for the 10th time to get a color I want because I answer the questions differently each time trying to score my favorite color, d) such a great personality I should run for office, e) Grace Kelly doppelganger, f) Scarlett O’Hara literary heroine, and g) can score 20 on a scale of 1-10. I might as well be a Barbie Doll because she’s so perfect.
She is every career from a model to doctor. She is vintage, but yet fashionable. She dresses for all the holidays and still wears a space suit. She is thin and yet can be curvy. She is every ethnicity. She is the darling of the seas as in Ariel or she can fly on a magic carpet like Jasmine. She is expensive but also frugal. She wears designer Mattel clothes but also wears homemade frocks from Amazon, Etsy, or your favorite seamstress. She is a collector but some throw her away after her hair tangles. She might like to have a boyfriend but doesn’t need one. And she has a fast pink convertible. This girl ROCKS!
According to my on-line tests I am as fantastic as she.
And it only took a minute to answer all the questions because they were all multiple choice.
You know about multiple choice tests. “Multiple choice items consist of a stem, the correct answer, keyed alternative, and distractors. The stem is the beginning part of the item that presents the item as a problem to be solved, a question asked of the respondent, or an incomplete statement to be completed, as well as any other relevant information.” Wikipedia.
The middle schools used to have “aptitude” tests. The counselors gave these tests to gain insight into the kinds of jobs/careers students could be thinking about for their future. They gave these tests before high school so that pupils could plan on what courses they should take for either the college-prep course track diploma or the technical track diploma.
The test was dead-on when it came to my first child’s innate ability. His prognosis indicated that he was good with his hands. He is now Assistant Director, Learning Environments of labs, classroom, and collaborative spaces for Georgia State University. Fancy name for he works in IT and uses his hands.
But I think what I worry a little about is the girl sitting next to him in his 8th grade classroom taking her standardized aptitude test. When the results came in, she told our oldest child her test results. I wonder what she is doing today? Her test results told her she should either become a clown…or a mime.
7/9/17 – Tomato Heaven
I. am. in. heaven. It’s fresh tomato season and I made my first purchase on the square in Newnan on 6/28/17. AND my tomato purchases will continue until the last day of anyone’s garden producing a home-grown one they are willing to sell.
I used to have my own garden. Here are my trials and errors with that: my parents were the best when producing fresh produce. We lived on 30 acres and did not have a fence surrounding our garden. I did not know about and NEVER remembered them bemoaning that deer or other vegetable eating critters ruined all their hard work. My father’s name was DARDEN and they called their creation Darden’s Garden. We had lots of other yields from it: corn, okra, spring onions, butter peas, marigolds, and more.
I remembered picking and shelling peas with my mother. My aunt came over to help and then received her gifts from the garden. Then mother, my aunt, and I went to the cannery in our county (although she used glass Bell jars). Later, mother boiled those jars in our house herself and sealed the goodies. Jars and jars of sterilized-then-sealed butterbeans, corn, onions, tomatoes, okra cooked down in their own juices could be found in her kitchen cabinets just waiting for winter to arrive when potatoes would be added for vegetable soup. Don’t forget the cornbread!
I couldn’t be the farmers my parents were but I did try my hand with my first backyard garden on my 1.3 plot here in Newnan. I planted tomatoes and put up a fence around them to keep out our deer guests but I guess it wasn’t high enough as our visitors would stick their heads over and would nibble at their early morning breakfast. The next year I put up a higher fence and moved the produce further away from the fence since they preferred what I valued. That worked better. But trying to weed around the harvest in that chicken wire fence proved difficult.
Then I scaled back and only planted my tomatoes – BIG BOYS VARIETY! – in containers on my deck. That worked pretty well and I even felt smug when a girlfriend wrote on Facebook about her disgust of deer somehow getting into her tomato plants even with all the armor surrounding her vegetable garden. I laughed and laughed that day she posted that fiasco thinking, “That won’t happen to me. I am smart. No deer is going to climb up my steps to my deck and eat my tomatoes. Ha, ha, ha!”
The next morning I woke up to find that I didn’t have to worry about the deer eating my plants but something with big teeth shaped like rabbits’ choppers had taken just ONE bite out of every single one of my tomatoes. Since it wasn’t rabbits hopping up those 20+ steps, I didn’t know what in the world climbed up my stairs to reach the top deck where my planters were. Somebody tell me! Raccoon? Whatever it was it (they) ruined every ripe one (that I was giving ONE MORE DAY until perfection) with those teeth marks.
“Best laid plans of mice and men.”
I got out of the tomato business and left the it to the professionals. Although it would be nice to watch tomatoes sprout up on a daily basis, I just didn’t want to give those visiting my deck the privilege of snacks. Forage on your own. I feed birds in the winter but I didn’t need a new pet taking the most precious of precious tomatoes from me.
So, with my cherished purchase from Wednesday’s downtown Farmer’s Market, I had my first tomato. In a sandwich? Nope. Not the first bite of the season: just a little salt, pepper, and mayo. And so it begins for a couple of months. Summer ishere !
Next time, we’ll discuss which mayonnaise to add. Besides the goodness of the fresh tomato, it’s all about the mayo, too, right?
Over the years, June has been the traditional month for weddings. Hubby and I recently attended a destination wedding in Highlands, N.C. Destination weddings are hot. Maybe they have always been, but it seems more so these days.With the evening wedding ceremonies conducted and the reception fun over, the “old timers” had some down time the next morning at a brunch for the out-of-town guests. We shared memories of how we first met our spouses.
The Groom’s Dad told this one about a friend of his:A college buddy wasenjoying the fruits of youthful behavior at a local bar in Atlanta with other carousing friends. They were having such a good time, in fact, that one of the guys fell off a bar stool and broke his leg.Luckily for them, Piedmont Hospital was just down Peachtree Street, so they gathered up this broken friend, placed him in the car, and headed for the hospital’s emergency entrance. While there, they rose to the occasion and answered all questions posed by the doctors on call about the accident. They were serious and forthcoming about the details of the incident.
But when their injured pal was admitted to the back room for more examinations, they were left out of that trip and were waiting around in the hospital Emergency Room lobby for more news regarding their companion. Now these young bucks had responsibly done their duty, and all that was left of them was to wait it out and bring their friend home. So, what would a young man after a night of drinking do to kill time in a hospital waiting room? They all started flirting with the nurses.
Groom’s Dad’s friend was especially enamored with one of the RNs. Even though she was working, he chatted with her when he could during her night shift. He thought he made a good impression but knew he couldn’t make a real move because she was busy.
So, the next day, he called the hospital, was put through to the Emergency Room, asked someone who answered the phone to help him find this adorable gal he had met and tried to impress. He gave the caller her description in detail (or what he remembered). The medical assistant on the phone said, “Oh, Nurse Betty? Yes, she was on duty here last night.”
He asked to speak to Nurse Betty. Eventually she was able to answer the phone and talk to the Groom’s Dad’s friend. He flirted some more with his witty words and asked her if she remembered their conversation from the night before. He was sure she would recall their exchange because he had done his best to make an impression. Yet, she didn’t. She explained that it was a very busy night at the hospital and she just didn’t recollect some ofthe things he was reiterating.
He wanted to meet her, and he ask if they could get together for a drink at Harrison’s on Peachtree Street (ironically the bar where the accident occurred). He described what he would be wearing so she could find him easily.
The nurse walked in, saw this young man by his depiction, sat down at his table, and the first words out of his mouth were, “You’re the wrong one.”
He and “the wrong one” have been married almost 40 years.
Hope you June brides have as good a story to tellas this one.
Hubby and I recently took a little weekend getaway with our oldest son and his girlfriend. They are MILLENNIALS. According to the U.S. Census Bureau, this age group number was 83.1 million and we went with 2 of them to Asheville, North Carolina.
We are 64 and BABY BOOMERS. There are generational differences, I guess you’ve heard.
The trip was really different. I enjoyed our expedition but I experienced several firsts (I will put an asterisk beside the firsts).
1. We drove and Hubby and I took our car. It is bigger. They BOTH drive small Volkswagons. They really don’t drive their cars much. Living in Reynoldstown in Atlanta, they catch MARTA to go to work. So, we drove.
.
2. Another reason we drove is because oldest wanted to take his boxer. We LOVE our grand dog and have kept him many (MANY) times while our son traveled. Not just short jaunts here or there, but big jaunts – South Africa, New Zealand, Iceland, Europe, Hawaii, etc. Millennials like to travel if they can. And when they travel they stay in hostels, AirBNB, or outside. Millennials are fond of camping (and so are their pets). So, we took his dog.
3. Because we took his dog, we stayed in an AirBNB*. We rented an entire house. The description said pet-friendly. The owner even left his cat, Bruce, to hang around. Luckily for the cat, the grand dog gets along with felines. There was only one bathroom though. I would have picked a place with two. One bathroom didn’t seem to matter much to son who selected the place. Remember, he loves camping. But there was a fenced-in back yard to let the dog out without supervision at all times. So, as I said, we stayed in a one bathroom, AirBNB whole house for the dog.
4. Our entire entertainment involved visiting Asheville’s breweries and pubs. Because son and Hubby have a common hobby – brewing their own homemade beer – this was the point, really, of the entire trip. Millennials’ love their beer. I have become quite fond of the craft beers. But when you’ve seen one mash tun, you’ve seen them all. (That’s how Hubby feels about trips to countries with castles). With outdoor seating, some brew pubs welcomed dogs. So, as I said, we went to outdoor breweries for the dog.
5. The AirBNB house did not have regular TV like your would find in most of our homes. Some Millennials (like our renter who is one, too) do not even have a TV and watch media over the Internet using smartphone, tablets, or a monitor connected to their internet. Luckily our son has the same media setup so he knew how to operate the remote. We also used our iphones a lot. Remember, this group was the first to grow up with computers in their homes and the first generation of kids to grow up with the Internet.
6. Because we were visiting brew pubs close in proximity, we walked everywhere. Son made sure our rental was near the action in downtown Asheville. We also walked to an outdoor concert sponsored by a brewing company that gives their proceeds to cities to enhance bicycle paths. Millennials appreciate GREEN causes.
7. If we were over served, we called UBER*. We called UBER.
It was a grand weekend exploring Asheville through our Millennials eyes. It was worth what we shelled out to pay for the trip (Oopps – did I just say that? Well, son did pay for all the expensive craft beer he wanted us to try). We enjoyed being with him and his girl even if we couldn’t discuss politics – Hubby and I had already learned that lesson.
“In 2016, the Pew Research Center found that Millennials surpassed Baby Boomers to become the largest living generation in the United States.” – Wikipedia. If by the standards of the U.S. Census Bureau and based on Pew’s definition of the generation which ranges from 1981 to 1997, we Boomers only total 74.9 million to their 83.1 million.
It’s graduation weekend. Area high schools are gearing up for their pomp and circumstance, the name taken from Act III, Scene 3 of Shakespeare‘s Othello:
Farewell the neighing steed and the shrill trump, The spirit-stirring drum, th’ear-piercing fife, The royal banner, and all quality, Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war!
I was a high school English teacher. I know things like this.
So you’d think I’d be reputable, right? Let me tell you a story which I heard about in the 1960’s. Take your pick: a fabrication, a myth, or an urban legend. Whatever it is, this story was told to me as truth. And when it came to extremely smart, bored, mischievous students’ hi-jinx in the 1960’s at the University of Georgia, I believed it.
UGA is the flagship school for the state of Georgia. It is big. BIG! It’s always had a huge enrollment. Today its enrollment is over 36,000. You had better have some self-control to attend there. It could eat you up and spit you out if you weren’t disciplined enough.
I’d always known that the really, really smart genius type of students had their own kind of pranks. Today they might hack into computers, but in the 1960’s they were pulling different escapades. Still shocking but in this instance not harmful to others.
And here it is: A group of boys created a phantom student, a non-real, yet class attending, test-taking undergraduate. Now I can’t tell you specifics, but this made-up-pupil enrolled, was accepted, paid tuition, and graduated in 4 years. I don’t know WHO these devil-may-care creators were, I don’t know how many were involved to pull this prank off, but I heard that at the end of four years, this student, whose name I forgot but very similar to the name, Alfred E. Neuman from MAD Magazine, was this figment of their imagination.
They could get away with it at the time because enrollment and test taking was all done with a #2 pencil and scan sheets. If one enrolled in a general education core class or a popular major where the classes met in large auditoriums, the professors at the time were not able to identify students or track them as easily. This ruse went on for four years. The guys pooled their money and paid for this hallucination’s education.
And when graduation came, a diploma was waiting for this mirage. His name was called and called and no such person responded on stage to receive it. Those who initiated this spoof had a grand time knowing they pulled it off.
6/1/17 – I’m Lisa Weldon, a creative strategist who walks cities. Why? To find powerful and authentic stories.
It all started in 2011 when I rented apartment in New York for thirty days. It was my intent to take a month-long course to learn the new tools of my trade, social media.
While there, I selfishly wanted to savor every inch of my favorite city in the world. I tore a map of Manhattan into 22 equal pieces and each day I walked a different neighborhood until I walked the entire island. At night I recorded my findings in my blog, then shared my words and photos through social media. It was from this experience that I learned not only social media but also the power of storytelling. And yes, my love of travel.
We’re a mother-daughter team going on our third year of working together. During the workday I focus on strategy while Emma Weldon executes. I come to the table with years of experience in advertising creative direction, she brings the vitality of youth and knowledge of the interactive world.
Away from the office – especially in the fall – you’ll find us both hollering “War Eagle!” We both graduated from Auburn University with Bachelor of Fine Arts degrees. Emma’s concentration was in photography, mine in visual design. Emma, like me, is also a wanderlust at heart. She’s climbed to Machu Picchu in Peru, done a photo shoot in Rome, traversed Greece, Istanbul, Bangkok and Cambodia. She’s headed to Parisand Portugal this summer. I just returned from a 10-day walk around Shanghai. Emma’s an accomplished cook and picky about using organic everything. I love Flamin’ Hot Cheetos and Krispy Kreme doughnuts, especially when the light’s on.
So that’s a little about us. We’d love to hear your story.
If you are over 50 and haven’t read Nora Ephron’s book, I FEEL BAD ABOUT MY NECK, you should. Thank goodness someone is writing about ONE of the many things that are bothering some of us girls of a certain age.
Let me start off by saying first of all, after 40, I started needing reading glasses. I guess that’s about right. That’s about middle ground. Maybe 40+ more good years. This was about halfway through. My first magnification was .75 on the scale. But now over the last 20+ years, that number has risen. I don’t know how high the vision number goes. I’ve seen the number four, but I think I am in the threes.
Then it was the aches and pain commercials. I can remember in my 40’s a commercial for a product that promised to reduce muscle aches. A woman that looked just a little older than me was hiking and afterward she commented on her muscle ache and recommended Advil – or was it Aleve? I don’t remember that part because I was so shocked at someone of “our” age needing something for her pain. I remember thinking, “What is she talking about? That’s used for headaches.” Then it happened. Shortly after turning 50 I was taking something, too. I thought, “Oh, now I get it!”
Next? The neck. I read Ephron’s book about 10 years ago for the first time because her author picture caught my attention on the back jacket sleeve. She has a turtleneck sweater pulled up and over her chin obviously hiding her neck. I didn’t get that either. Neck? What was she talking about? She was too young to have a neck that bothered her. I mean, that’s for OLD people. She was 12 years older than me and I was in my early 50’s, so she was still young. And then, within a couple of years, mine dropped.
And it wasn’t pretty.
Being a little plump, mine was what I considered the first of two kinds of necks: a pig neck or a chicken neck. It doesn’t matter which one you have, neither look good. You can’t win for losing. Chicken neck people are usually thin people who look great in clothes but because they are so thin, when they get older, you see every crease and crevice in their skin and especially their neck. It looks like ties on a railroad track.
Then there are the pig neck people. These are the ones with extra weight where the weight settles in the neck. I try to hide my neck. My favorite pose is placing my hand under my chin as though I am pondering something. Pig neck people really can’t hide their neck because the fat spreads out into the jowls and up towards the ear.
There are pros and cons to being either chicken neck or pig neck. The cons are they are both ugly. But where as the chicken neck girl is thin and on the whole looks great in clothes, the pig neck person might have pretty and softer skin because there are not many wrinkles in the face because of all the collagen.
I have lost some weight lately and now I am seeing more chicken neck and I am not prepared! I didn’t know to put on all the wrinkle creams at bedtime. I thought I was always going to have collagen!
It’s a lose/lose situation. Tell me I’m not right.
Next time, let’s talk extra skin arm flapping that we thought we’d never have either.
April 21 – After taking a break from teaching for almost a decade, I eased back into education in the 1990’s by revisiting the classroom through substituting where the sub doesn’t get much respect. In middle or high school, sometimes you are just the baby sitter for the day. The students are thinking, “How much can we get away with?” Because I had previous classroom experience, I decided to come prepared.
In the early 1990’s, students’ parents had to sign a waiver if an image of their child could be used in any form of media – school calendars, school and county newspaper stories, and especially any kind of video with their child’s image. But nothing was said of audio recordings. So, every middle or high school that I walked into that morning to “babysit”, I first stopped by the media center, asked for a tape recorder and blank cassette tape, walked confidently into the classroom with both, and set the recorder at the front of the classroom for all eyes to see. When the bell rang to begin the class period, before I took roll, I proceeded to tell them the reason for the recording device. I was going to audio tape their voices and behavior in the classroom and give it to their teacher along with my notes about this particular class. I would place my notes and the tape in her teacher box so she would have it immediately when she checked for an update of how things went the day she was absent.
After that announcement, IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE CLASS, I pushed the RECORD/PLAY button at the same time to begin the recording. I pushed the buttons with grandeur to dramatize the moment so they were aware that their behavior was being monitored starting at that moment. Everything was transparent. And, believe me, it worked. Sometimes when the class was a little rowdy and I had to call down a student or two, first – their voices could be heard on tape, and second – I’d mention, “Abigail, Abigail? You need to settle down a bit.” (Notice I said “ABIGAIL” and not “JOHNNY”. I am so tired of Johnny’s name being overused as the misbehaved child as well as also using a boy as the representative wild student.)
I tell mothers today about how they can use the same theory for their own children. It’s called the photo option of their cell phone. I wish I had that device for my own offspring. Here’s how you work it today: let’s say your young child starts their tantrum in the canned vegetable aisle of the grocery store. Video record it. Replay the taped behavior at home when your youngster doesn’t exactly remember how that moment went down. Then there really is no discussion when you disagree over the behavior you wanted changed. The child ( I think you could do this step even as young as 3? ) sees his/her action that you wanted corrected and instead of ” intentionally not remembering” or “really not remembering”, the incident is captured to hone in on the conduct you want improved.
April 12 – I have recently been speaking to the most Southern genteel ladies’ clubs. It is a delight to do so. With the weather turning to spring, so are their wardrobes – pastel pinks, grass-green, lemon yellows, light-lavenders, all trimmed in white with sandals and forget-me-not-pearls. A garden of color right in front of your eyes while you are reading. These mostly small town women are a comfort to me. I grew up in a small town. Spending these few moments with these belles feels comfortable.
You may laugh at the fact that before in my busy 40’s with my children’s activities that I was the taxi for, I didn’t have the luxury of slowing down to enjoy these refined and gracious meetings. Today I relish in them. But when my children were on the move, so was I. My mentality was, “Let’s make a decision and move on.”
Hence, my resentment at a ladies group in which I was a member at the time. I soooo wanted to be in this small “club” of invitation-only-ladies from my hometown. And then I was welcomed into the fold. All the “movers and shakers”, “everybody who was anybody”, or “the right family” were clustered together. I was now accepted. I had arrived. I was miserable.
Not awfully miserable, but in general I have never been able to sit still for very long. Most of this group of women were retired or stay-at-home moms. I know now they were busy doing other things just I am since I retired. But I had not gone through that stage of life yet, and since no one can tell you otherwise until you do, I did not see them as scheduled as I was. I always had to be somewhere. Or I always should be somewhere else. I was SHOULDING on myself. I should do this and I should do that. Like the song by Helen Reddy, “I AM WOMAN – HEAR ME ROAR!” I can do it all if you don’t hold me up with nonsense. Let’s get this show on the road.
So, in an early meeting when my cloistered group of eight ladies (that was the problem right there) were deciding on WHERE to place a certain piece of furniture in a new location, I about tore my hair out. It took ninety minutes to come to a conclusion. Did you pick up I wrote “A” piece of furniture?
Not only did my mind wander (I was too new in the group to make a suggestion so I just listened – or not) but I developed fanny fatigue as well. It was my take that these matrons had no place else to be and were enjoying their moment of “power” to make a decision on the placement of a piece of furniture. They had to go through the litany of who the piece once belonged to, what it was originally used for, how old it was, who made it, how it should best be displayed, etc. To them it was an OLD FRIEND that needed caring for. I didn’t see it that way.
But now, I would relish that moment of being able to hear and discuss a piece of furniture and its history. Knowing the rich background would be a pleasure today because I could attach myself to part of its past. I like living in the present but those stories from long ago sure are soothing.
My First Guest Blog – Thanks to Southern Fried Karma
Thanks to Southern Fried Karma for having me as their FIRST guest blogger. It was my first time, too. I hope it was as good for them as it was for me. http://sfkpress.com/southern-literature/guest-blog/
Nonfiction, Baseball, and Prohibition: A Southern Guest Blog
*SFK Press is proud to feature a guest blogger of renown, Lee St. John. Author of She’s a Keeper! Anecdotes from A Southern Girl’s Attic, John has graciously agreed to be the first to post a guest blog on our site. We are excited to feature her work. Previously we reviewed her book as a part of our post The best local bookstores, if you would like to read more about that.
Baseball is all around us and the temps are cooperating. But here comes the pollen. Still, Spring has sprung and that means America’s past time is “at bat”. Northgate, Heritage, East Coweta, and Newnan all are in the “swing of the season”. (Aren’t you loving my baseball metaphors?) Good luck to those guys for the remainder of the season. I’m keeping up with you.
Some may argue that today football, not baseball, is America’s National Pastime. But in the first half of the 20th century, there was no question that baseball was America’s sport. I am proud as punch to say my father was an outstanding baseball player in college at Oglethorpe University in Atlanta. He also played for the Chicago Cubs organization. But before all this, he played on a high school traveling team in 1932, when this story takes place.
Go Cubbies!
His team played anybody that would host them. And in the late spring of 1932 they were in Atlanta playing some of the guards at the Atlanta Penitentiary while a few inmates were allowed to watch. There was one game when my dad, a left-handed pitcher, played in the outfield. While playing center field, he kept stepping farther and farther into the back field. Just a little at a time so as to not draw attention doing so. He kept inching back because he saw 2 men sitting on some bleachers and he wanted to ask them a question. He had heard there was a certain high profile inmate in the Atlanta Pen and he wanted to find out if it was true. So, little by little meandering towards the bleachers, he got close enough to turn around and ask if this infamous person was indeed incarcerated there.
He circled around to ask quickly as he didn’t want it to seem he was not paying attention to the game and his position. Was this American gangster, boss of the Chicago Outfit and famous Prohibition era bad ass really there? Was this crime boss whose seven-year reign of smuggling and bootlegging liquor in the building? Was this man who was in a league of his own terrorizing Chicago during Prohibition in the 1920’s and who was convicted of tax evasion in 1931 now an inmate in Atlanta’s prison?
This gangster was sent to the Atlanta U.S. Penitentiary in May 1932. At 250 pounds he was officially diagnosed with syphilis and gonorrhea. He suffered from withdrawal symptoms from cocaine addiction which the use of had perforated his septum. He was competent at his prison job of stitching the soles on shoes for eight hours a day, yet he was barely coherent when writing his letters. At the Atlanta Pen he was seen as a weak personality and was just not the mobster from which his legend was made. He was so out of his depth dealing with the bullying fellow inmates inflicted that his cellmate feared that this thug would have a nervous breakdown. When Alcatraz Federal Penitentiary opened, he was moved there.
So, Daddy was curious. Was he still there? Backing his way to the bleachers, he was close enough now to turn around to ask the two men sitting there watching the game if Alphonse Gabriel “Al” Capone was in the Atlanta Penitentiary?
One of the two answered, “He sure is and he’s sitting right here next to me.”
How the game might have looked if my father had played at Alcatraz
Guess Who?
-Lee St. John
Link to Lee St. John’s Amazon page and her books. Thanks again, Lee!
Public school winter break is over in my county and students have settled into their school routine once again. The county school calendar is divided into 2 semesters or 18 weeks each. With one semester down (ended before Christmas) this second semester is about half over. That means there are only about 9 more weeks left until summer. Just 9 weeks! This doesn’t include Spring Break in April.
And here at the mid-point of the second semester, testing is not uncommon. No one looks forward to tests – students (because they have to take them) or teachers (because they have to grade them). Being an English teacher is not easy when it comes to grading. Essays, remember? I used to jokingly say, “I wonder if the more wine I drink while grading these essays if their grades will improve?”
Another hardship on an English teacher during the year and especially at mid-term testing was the copying machine that would break down at the most inopportune time. And it just didn’t break down for an hour. Sometimes it was days. Somebody had to call the company to send someone out to fix it. And by fix it, I mean that took all day, too. One couldn’t wait to see the taped sign that said, “NOT WORKING!” taken off the top of the machine. By the time it was removed, there was mold on it.
Before the copier, we used the mimeograph machine (often abbreviated to mimeo) and it was a low-cost duplicating machine that worked by forcing ink through a stencil onto paper. I loved that smell of that ink running through the machine. Not for long lengths of time, though. I heard one could get high from the smell by the overuse of the machine. I used to jokingly say, “I wonder if I smell more of this purple ink while running off these tests if their grades will improve?”
Did I mention bathroom duty? My pre-21st century schools had us rotate bathroom duty assignments. I could never, EVER eat my lunch in the girls’ bathroom during duty time like one teacher I know who did. She scooted a desk in there and plopped her cafeteria tray on top of it and dug in.
Also, one of my teacher girlfriends left public school teaching and was hired at Westminster private school in Atlanta. She and I kept up and she would report to me that she did still have high school bus and bathroom duty but that it wasn’t for the obvious reasons of keeping order: it was because they didn’t want any of their students kidnapped from that hoity-toity priced school. Those were the kids with the million-dollar last names.
There was at least one kind of testing that was done in schools that didn’t include grades. It was called an aptitude test. At the end of the middle school years and before attending high school, the counselors wanted to know what track a student might favor because of their aptitude…think college is in your future? Technical training? This would be helpful to know so the guidance office could help guide the student into the right classes to be successful.
My oldest took his aptitude test near the end of 8th grade. When the results came in it mentioned that he was good with his hands. I am going to leave that description alone except to say that he is in a career now doing just that…Information Technology. But this test gave him different choices to think about. It encouraged him to consider being a butcher or an air-conditioner repairman.
However, the real clincher was what the girl sitting next to him in class received on her test results. What possibly could have been the ANSWERS on her test to recommend these two jobs: either a clown or a mime?
I am having a good time with the live video feature on my phone. After you broadcast LIVE, you can post it to your Facebook site. I hope you will visit my author FB page and LIKE the page. But you can see the video lineup even without LIKING the page, I think. Stop now and go there and LIKE it. I’ll wait for you here. Here is the site: https://www.facebook.com/leestjohnauthor
Did you scroll back so far to see my farce about not being able to find my car keys? I pretended to have misplaced them. I said that hubby was out of town and if I didn’t find the only set we had (not true) before he returned, he would blow a gasket (not true.) I don’t know much at all about cars but I do know that saying and it means trouble. I could have used another metaphor, but since I was writing about cars, I thought I’d use that one.
Now, in that video I am lamenting about how I cannot find my car keys and also I realize that I cannot find my clip that carries all my charge/insurance cards. I profess how I do not carry a purse (I don’t) because I don’t like the fact that a) you can never really find anything in them either and that the bottoms of the pocketbook get so dirty with grit of some kind or another, wrappers from anything, a rogue french fry or two, pennies, and other materials that drop to the bottom, it’s nasty to the touch. At least to me. I find that gross and then I don’t want to go looking for anything any more.
And b) carrying a purse requires you keeping up with it when shopping and I mean this part to have two parts, too. Having a pocketbook while shopping means you have to keep up with it by either 1) carrying it on your shoulder and even if the purse is small or big, if it has long shoulder straps, the straps hinder you getting a good days shopping done because as much as your throw your purse backward out of your way, they eventually swing back in your frontal direction and get in the way. This hinders serious shoppers because you are going to town with those hundred of hangers on the shopping rack and this endeavor is really bothersome. 2) If not carrying your shoulder-strap purse then you must leave it in the buggy and you certainly can’t shop that way either. It’s like a child sitting in the buggy seat. You keep watch on your purse and you can’t get any real shopping done.
So, no, I don’t carry a purse. I carry money/bank charge card/insurance card/ library card/ discount fundraiser discount card/ Kroger plus card/ driver’s license/ Sam’s card/ Credit Union identification card/ old no-longer-working charge card clipped in my money clip. Where do I keep that, you ask? In my bra. With my car keys. And maybe my lipstick. And sometimes my phone (although I know better to put that there).
I hate pocketbooks! My brush, more lipstick, nail file, loose change, tissues, or other expired fundraiser discount cards all stay in my car. What do I need a purse for? I have a mirror in my car, too, that lights up. I am not lacking and wanting anything in a purse that a store’s bathroom or my car can’t give me. What do I need an old cumbersome purse for? Or even a small purse. The above reasons are enough to not wanting to carry all that extra crap.
So, the video went on to tease not finding my keys…and also my charge card. Then realizing where I might have put them, like I always do, there were more treasures to be found with those twin girls: eyelash curler, a really LONG nail file, lipstick, and multitude of other things that shouldn’t be housed in a bra. But storage is storage. And since I did find my car keys and money clip, I am going shopping!
My wicked friend, Jennie Joe, used to ask me to say this saying out loud and fast three times:
I AM A SHEET SLITTER
I SLIT SHEETS
HOW MANY SHEETS CAN A SHEET SLITTER SLIT?
You try. 3 times. Fast. Out loud.
Now you get it.
Well, I am a tooth grinder. I grind teeth. How many teeth can a tooth grinder grind?
I don’t know when it started, but of course like many, I needed to eventually get a mouth guard. Mouth guards are coverings worn over teeth, and often used to protect teeth from injury from teeth grinding and during sports.
There are three types:
“Stock mouth protectorsare preformed and come ready to wear. They are inexpensive and can be bought at most sporting good stores and department stores. However, little can be done to adjust their fit, they are bulky, make breathing and talking difficult, and they provide little or no protection. Dentists do not recommend their use.
Boil and bite mouth protectors also can be bought at many sporting goods stores and may offer a better fit than stock mouth protectors. The “boil and bite” mouth guard is made from thermoplastic material. It is placed in hot water to soften, then placed in the mouth and shaped around the teeth using finger and tongue pressure.
Custom-fitted mouth protectors are individually designed and made in a dental office or a professional laboratory based on your dentist’s instructions. First, your dentist will make an impression of your teeth and a mouth guard is then molded over the model using a special material. Due to the use of the special material and because of the extra time and work involved, this custom-made mouth guard is more expensive than the other types, but it provides the most comfort and protection.
Generally, mouth guards cover your upper teeth only, but in some instances (such as if you wear braces or another fixed dental appliance on your lower jaw), your dentist will make a mouth guard for the lower teeth as well. Your dentist can suggest the best mouth guard for you. An effective mouth guard should be comfortable, resist tears, be durable and easy to clean, and should not restrict your breathing or speech.
If you grind your teeth at night, a special mouth guard-type of dental appliance — called a nocturnal bite plate or bite splint — may be created to prevent tooth damage.”
I had #3, the custom fit night thingy one. It only covered my front two teeth, just enough to keep my bite open.
Over time – years really – I ground it down until it broke. Now this guard isn’t cheap. Hopefully they kept my mold but if not, I was going to have to pay for that, too. And I didn’t want to have to fork out that kind of money.
So, as usual, I came up with my own grind solution. I bought a baby pacifier. I mean, all I really needed was something between my teeth to keep the grinding at bay. A pacifier is used for soothing and comforting a fussy baby. “Most babies have a strong sucking reflex. Some babies even suck their thumbs or fingers before they’re born. Beyond nutrition, sucking often has a soothing, calming effect” (http://www.mayoclinic.org/healthy-lifestyle/infant-and-toddler-health/in-depth/pacifiers/art-20048140). I didn’t need it for sucking, of course. I needed it for keeping my mouth open a little so my teeth didn’t touch during the night.
So, I bought one. Still have it. Still use it on occasion. It stays in the top drawer of my bed’s nightstand.
But I just found out about this !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
“Baby Pants Classic Adult pacifiers are larger versions of the ever popular Gerber NUK pacifiers. The shield is approximately 2 5/8 inch wide and 1 7/8 tall. The nipple extends 1 5/8 inch from the shield. The nipple shape is identical to the NUK 5 but slightly larger. The size makes them ideal for easy stress free sucking all night. They stay in place without effort. You’ll probably find your little one sound asleep with the pacifier firmly in place. Aww, so sweet. Makes you want to kiss a blister on them. The nipple is all silicone and the pacifier body is strong ABS plastic. The picture included below contrasts the orange NUK 3 on the left and the white NUK 5 (Medicpro (L) in the middle, to the new uncolored Baby Pants NUK6.
For use by ages 13 and older.
Please sanitize your new pacifier with warm water and soap. DO NOT BOIL AS THIS WILL DEFORM THE PLASTIC.”
http://www.baby-pants.com/pacifiers.php
This purchase just went to the top of my list…before tonight.
While teaching Gifted middle school students in the 1990’s, I loved the way our school allowed us to meet the needs of these high IQ students. There were several ways the state requirements told us we could administer this service but we had to satisfy 4 ½ hours of Gifted instruction a week.
1. We could pull-out the students from their regular classroom to visit their government mandated Gifted classroom 1 hour a day for 5 days. 2. We could pull-out the students from their regular classroom to visit their government mandated Gifted classroom for 2 ½ hours a day twice a week. 3. We could pull-out the students from their regular classroom to visit their government mandated Gifted classroom 5 hours a day once a week. (The remaining 2 ½ hours in the school day involved elective classes, i.e.: physical education, consumer science, foreign language, etc.)
We chose the 3rd option. It was GREAT!
We were allowed to teach straight through a day without the disruption of class changes and herding students from one place to another. Sure, we took breaks, changed up the curriculum like they would in their ordinary day, but we weren’t confined to mandatory classroom changes – going from one subject teacher to another. We could spend as much time on a subject as we wanted. If a certain lesson ran over the time we thought it would take, what did it matter? We could adjust.
Since middle grades consisted of 6th, 7th, and 8th grades, depending on the number of students in each grade level, we divided the grades up and then divided the week up to accommodate. We coordinated our lessons into units of Math, English, Social Studies/Geography, and Life Science which might parallel what their regular classroom was studying. We didn’t want to duplicate. We added information to their studies and could work faster since the number of students was smaller.
On a 7th grade day, I taught a lesson from the Life Science curriculum. But because I enjoyed adding humor to most situations, I wanted to really surprise my middle school learners. I dressed it up a bit. And not in a pretty way. I mean in a rather PG rating shocking way. I knew from previous years they loved to be grossed out. I took a good bit of information from THE ALMANAC OF THE GROSS, DISGUSTING & TOTALLY REPULSIVE ~ a compendium of fulsome facts by Eric Elfman. Man, this was stuff I didn’t really want to know and have never kept my toothbrush exposed on my bathroom counter since (“BATHROOM – No doubt the grossest room in the house, the bathroom is constantly being assaulted by dangerous bacteria each time the toilet is flushed. With each flush, a fine mist consisting of billions of water droplets rises into the air. Hundreds of thousands of these droplets contain bacteria from our intestines. These bacteria land on every surface of the bathroom – floors, cabinets, sink, door-knob, even your toothbrush.” Page 46). Cool. But disgusting.
I would inform them about bodily functions as on page 14 – entitled WASTE 101. “It is often said that what goes up must come down. Less often said, but equally true, is what goes in must come out…”
I mentioned to them that in our fluid waste discussion, “The average person loses about five pints of liquid a day, in the following ways:
Urine – 2.5 pints Perspiration – 1.25 pints Exhaled moisture from lungs – 1 pint Feces – (about ¾ of fecal matter is water) – .25 pint.”
After this information, I gave them a demonstration. I had previously poured apple juice into a vile so that they did not know that what they were seeing WAS apple juice. I then asked them to pass it around, which of course there were lots of “EEWWWWs!” But they gladly did so. Especially the boys.
Of course, I eventually let them in on my high jinx, which they had come to expect from me over time.
One year I developed problems from having a gall stone. Actually more than one stone. I researched the situation and tried to avoid surgery as I had already had a caesarian birth and ovarian cyst removal and just didn’t want any more cutting. I schedule several doctors appointments to see if I could avoid going under the knife. I even made an appointment with a Dr. Carter, an urologist in Atlanta, who I had heard invented Shock Wave Lithotripsy (SWL) which is the most common treatment for kidney stones in the U.S. According to
https://www.kidney.org/atoz/content/kidneystones_SHOCK_WAVES, “Shock waves from outside the body are targeted at a kidney stone causing the stone to fragment. The stones are broken into tiny pieces. lt is sometimes called ESWL: Extracorporeal Shock Wave Lithotripsy®.
These are what the words mean: • extracorporeal: from outside the body • shock waves: pressure waves • lithotripsy (the Greek roots of this word are “litho” meaning stone, “tripsy” meaning crushed)
So, SWL describes a nonsurgical technique for treating stones in the kidney or ureter (the tube going from the kidney to the bladder) using high-energy shock waves. Stones are broken into “stone dust” or fragments that are small enough to pass in urine. lf large pieces remain, another treatment can be performed.” And I heard you were submerged in a pool to have it done. I thought if you can get rid of kidney STONES this way, why not GALL stones? Well, after meeting with him, I found that removing gall stones doesn’t work that way. I would have to have surgery.
Luckily for me they had developed a new way to remove gall stones: laparoscopic gallbladder surgery which removes the gallbladder and gallstones through several small incisions in the abdomen. After it was all over, they asked if I would like to keep the stones. I said yes. They gave me a small glass container to store them in. Now, long story short (too late), this was going to be another life science lesson for 7th graders. I brought out the enclosed glass container with a gall stones.
Not telling them what was in the glass jar, I just mentioned that I had purchased a few rare stones. It cost (I really don’t remember the cost of the operation in 1998 but I would venture to guess it was around $3,000. The national average I read today is for an operation in 2005 and it says that gallbladder removal by laparoscope [without complications or pre-existing conditions] is $19,314. {http://tinyurl.com/jm4yhfp} WOW! I am glad I had mine done in my small town in Georgia.). Would they like to see them?
Those poor little 7th graders. A captured audience. What were they supposed to say? Of course they wanted to see my rare stone that I told them I had paid big bucks for. So, I whipped it out. I handed it to the first person on the front row and they proceeded to past it from student to student. While they were examining, I expounded about that they came from a unique place and that they very valuable, that I would never have another one, and I wanted to share it with them so they could get a good look at such rare stones, etc.
The gall stone itself looked like a cocklebur: round but with grey/brown spiky points sticking out. But since they hadn’t seen a STONE like that, they didn’t question. Right at the last of the students to handle the jar, I told them the relationship to the stones and me. That was a great moment, too. Another gross-out! And of course I always told these gross stories right before we’d break for lunch to make it more effective, timing it right down to the minute the lunch bell rang as they walked and gagged to line up for lunch.
After the loss of 20 – now it’s 22 pounds (see previous blog) – because of not providing my body with alcohol calories, I wondered if I am still fun. Remember the alcohol loosened me up for mayhem behavior. Whatever I thought to do, there was no filter in my actions because of those uninhibited elixers. But I am glad to report, I’ve still got it. Here’s the latest.
Shopping on the LAST SATURDAY before Christmas weekend, my Younger Teacher Friend asked me to go with her to Atlanta. Because she had just gotten out of school for the school break, she was behind on her shopping and had to get some things done. I wouldn’t think anyone would really want to go buy Christmas presents on one of the last Saturdays in Atlanta if they didn’t have to. But she had to and she asked me to tag along.
As a retiree, I didn’t have to go. Not only were my presents bought, but they were already distributed to the recipients (and opened, I might add). But that happens a lot in retirement. Hey! Don’t be thinking you wish you could have this much time to be done with these responsibilities. Remember – retirement is for OLD people. If you are younger than retirement age, don’t wish it away.
I mostly went to be with her, of course, but also to see the malls decorated because she was going to a couple of them. I hadn’t been in a MALL in years. I tend to shop in the stand alone businesses. So, getting out and visiting the pretty sights, even with all the humanity, which I was going to try and ignore (yeah, right) would be entertaining. And she was driving in that Atlanta traffic. I wasn’t in charge of anything. I was along for the ride.
We started early and arrived home after dark. She was on a mission and I don’t blame her. Her job was to “getter done.” I have recently had a bit of plantar fasciitis. I knew I might need to sit down on our walking/shopping excursion to keep it at bay. And I did. So it wasn’t so much the standing and walking as it was the length of the all day mission trip. But I signed up for it.
Late in the day I was starting to feel worn slap out. By that I mean standing in long lines and ticking of the minutes before it was our turn to make a purchase, especially at Bath And Body Works in Perimeter Mall.
Young Teacher Friend needed SEVERAL items as gifts. She is such a girlie girl, even if she has a household of testosterone. There were 3 lines and the wait looked unbearable. But instead of both of us in line, I suggested she shop while I hold her place for her. The lines barely moved. They must have hired a bunch of new people for Christmas to run the register. It didn’t look like they had the ringing-up merchandise rhythm down yet.
So, while waiting, I, of course, started talking to others in line to pass the time. Time stood still just like the lines and I tried to make the best of it. I didn’t mind holding her place, it would have been worse to shop and get in line LATER. She soon joined me and we still had a ways to go. It’s like “hurry up to slow down.” You know the feeling. Anyway, we both were chatting away with our fellow linemen (and women) when I started to be come giddy. When I get bored, watch out!
I started using my “outside” voice. That’s what we called it when I taught pre-school. We had “inside” voices and “outside” voices. With my “outside” voice I was taking command. I talked loudly so others could hear me say, “Did everyone get their number?” “You need a number to be called to purchase your gift.” or “Don’t forget to get your number before you get in line (and you know tons were already IN line)”. Then I started calling OUT numbers: “Number 26.” , “Number 79”, etc. That was really fun to watch their faces then. Because it was so crowded, only those around me knew the source of this outlandishness and giggled…or were amusingly horrified ( I knew they were because of the expression on their faces). THEN, getting closer to our destination, I continued and said, “After your purchase, be sure and get your ticket stub stamped for free parking.” That was the last thing I remember saying as we walked out of the store. And I said it several times to get a reaction to amuse myself with my trickery.
Thank goodness my Young Teacher Friend did not mind and laughed along as we left the store. My PARTNER-IN-CRIME from my younger days (as mentioned in my books) would have done the same, THEN. But today when I act goofy while visiting her in Atlanta she shames me. She has grown up now, I guess. She says, “You can’t act like that up here.” What? I am supposed to pretend I am mature?
So, thank goodness for my younger set of friends. They take me as I am…and that is that I am growing old, but I’ll never grow up.
The bad news – well, I guess there isn’t any bad news except HOW I lost it.
I quit drinking, for the most part, and I miss it. It’s not what you think. I wasn’t trying.
I had a stomach virus in June. Normally they last just a few days. But mine lasted a week. When I finally was myself again, I found out I wasn’t. I had no yearning for a glass of wine. Or beer. Or my favorite martini! What was wrong with this picture? You know how after a few days or week (in my life it was just a few days – never a week) you would think to yourself, “I am exhausted (or searching for something to look forward to in your day) and I am soooooooo looking forward to that glass of wine tonight”? Well, it just ain’t happening. I have no desire for a drink. AND I HATE IT!
You know, for women, a part of the social cocktail scene is about the glass. Maybe I don’t miss so much the actual consumption of alcohol but I do miss the holding a beautiful glass of a special concoction. Now I hold a beautiful glass of water. And that’s OK. I don’t mind not having the feeling sluggishness in the mornings after a few too many. But then again, I do miss the many “smiles” of “feeling no pain” the night before.
It was fun. You were a part of the crowd instead of just watching the fun from afar. But I am getting used to it. AND I am getting used to being the designated driver. I have not totally abstained. But not wanting to drink has totally bummed me out. I might order a drink here or there but the taste buds aren’t getting the job done and I tend to pour it out rather than finish it. I just can’t believe it! ALL the fun from my 20’s on…it’s just unfathomable this is happening now. It was so me! And the shots of scotch before speaking engagements to calm my nerves? I’ve gotten used to again talking to an audience and don’t need my “nerve medicine” any more. But am I as much fun as I used to be? Those shots did loosen lips!
But again, losing 20 pounds is admirable – especially at my age. It’s been a slow loss…just about 3 pounds a month and I hear that’s the way to do it. But the thrill is gone. I guess this is my new normal. Getting old sucks.
September 26, 2016. Are you ready for tonight’s presidential debate? How are we going to stand it? But it is MUST-SEE TV!
I thought of a way to make it more tolerable. I am going to turn it into a game. I first learned about this game years ago when one could catch reruns of THE BOB NEWHART SHOW in the afternoons. TV Land channel? I don’t know. And this could be an urban legend but the story goes that some frat boys were sitting around their fraternity house in the afternoons between classes at the time Newhart’s reruns were on. If you remember this 1970’s show (which I do because of the line up of comedy I watched every chance I could – Mary Tyler Moore, Bob Newhart, and then Carol Burnett on Saturday nights), Emily Hartley, Bob’s wife on the show played by the lovely Suzanne Pleshette, when speaking to her husband, seemed to always say his name in conversation. For instance, “Where are you going, Bob?” “What do you want for dinner, Bob?” “Did you have coffee this morning already, Bob?” “Why do I always say Bob, Bob?”
So, when she spoke his name, the boys who were drinking their beer in the social area of the house where the TV was, took a gulp. Drinking beer during the week in the afternoon? You’re not surprised are you, Bob? So, every day at the same time when the show came on and Emily said “Bob” in her conversation, beer was consumed.
So, I decided to tweak it. My editor and neighborhood friend, Miss Scarlett, started coming to my house around season 20 of THE BACHELOR so that we could watch it together instead of just talking about it afterwards. For years I called my friend, SWOOZIE, who lived in another town, while the show was on. But we only talked during commercials so as not to miss a thing on the “reality” show. Now with Miss Scarlett over at my house, we could talk or not while the action was taking place. We decided to play the “Bob Newhart” game. If you’ve ever seen THE BACHELOR, you know it’s not real reality-tv. It’s scripted also. One way to tell is they, too, use the same verbiage over and over. Example dialogue in EVERY SEASON: “She’s not here for the right reasons.” “It hurts my heart to see him falling for her.” “My date was AMAZING!” “I think we have a CONNECTION!” Those last two were really good if you wanted to get hammered.
And we must have wanted to get snockered because once we ended up slobbering syllables from Peach Bellinis that I made. And AMAZINGLY (drink!) we understood everything the other one was saying. We had 3 each, I hate to admit. Recipe below.
So, tonight. Let’s play, want to? I know that Trump doesn’t drink. His revered older brother was an alcoholic and died so he stays away from the stuff. What does Hillary drink? I found this: “…She likes to get her drink on. Hanging out in Cartagena in 2012 with her staff at the Summit of the Americas, then-Secretary of State Clinton was photographed with her hair down and a drink in her hand. Hillary apparently outdrank Sen. John McCain (R-AZ) when they were touring Estonia in 2004. According to a witness, ‘Hillary won. She stayed correct after four shots.’ Terry McAuliffe, new governor of Virginia and Clinton ally, said, ‘She loves to sit, throw ’em back…She’s a girl from Illinois who likes to throw ’em down with the rest of us.’ ”
Recently, Hubby and I decided to take an excursion for a few days. We headed South. Even MORE South.
I went to many colleges for varying degrees and studies. I landed at Middle Georgia College for my 13th year of high school. I wasn’t ready for college and my high school grades proved it. After seasoning up, I studied Communications and graduated (where I made Dean’s List, BTW) from Georgia Southern University. After working in an advertising agency in Atlanta, I chose to change my focus to education and landed in graduate school in English at Georgia State University and English Education at the University of Georgia.
So, see? When you count my childhood and now as an old married woman, I’ve lived in the east side of the state, the west side, middle Georgia, South Georgia, Urban Atlanta, and North Georgia. I count myself as somewhat of an expert of ALL THINGS SOUTHERN.
I was in a sorority in college. By being in one, you receive their national sorority publication. Ours is called THE ANGELOS, because I am a Kappa Delta. Every sorority I know has one. Since my 1975 undergraduate graduation, I have received this national quarterly magazine (that’s 4 x’s 41) . There are several interesting sections regarding my sorority sisters. We have sections that recognize outstanding women in various fields: leadership, philanthropy, popularity, GPA’s, beauty, civic involvement, and athletics, just to name a few. This publication places pictures of these women next to their written achievements.
Since 1975 I have played a game with myself when my magazine arrives. I used to be pretty good at it. I guess I could call it FIND THE SOUTHERN BELLE. Before I read one LINE of comments about the pictured girl, I’d cover the information with my hand and try to guess WHERE this outstanding woman attended school. And over 41 years I had a pretty good track record of guessing the geographical location of the school she attended. Was it Northern, Southern, West Coast, New England? IMO, the United States and its women had a distinct look by location.
Did the sorority gal have the sunny beachy California look in 1975?
What about New England and their prep school wool sweaters?
But between New England cold and the harsh upper North winters, that choice could be a hard one.
It was never hard to pin point a Southern girl. The hair. The clothes. And mostly the beauty queen smile (and crowns). Oh, and don’t forget the peachy complexion – from the humidity we get here. BTW – this picture is of a Kappa Delta (Debbie Maffett Wilson) and she was 1983’s Miss America!
Today, it’s harder. Since we are such a melting pot, I’ve gone from about 77% accuracy to the low 30%. I can’t tell any more. Yes, I am 63 and still playing that game. Silly. And I should quit. I am not getting any better.
But while on our mini vacation, my husband and I visited Paula Deen’s LADY AND SONS Restaurant in Savannah. What a beautiful city. And what a mixture of tourists! The servers bring over homemade (Paula Deen style) cornbread fritters and biscuits to munch on while cooking your order. Suits me. I love cornbread. May I have some more buttah, please?
Perusing the clientele of the restaurant to see if I thought there were many out-of-towners having lunch there, I noticed a group of women looking hesitant about their bread choices. I watched and sure enough there they were, using a knife and fork for their hand held fritter. My guess was, “They are from out of state.” I wanted so badly to ask them where they were from. Hubby wasn’t sure I should interrupt but I had to find out if my instincts were correct. At the end of our meal and before theirs arrived (Hubby skidaddled out of there while I sided up to them), I posed the question. Sure enough, their answers were Ohio and Colorado.
And then they wondered WHY I had asked. I explained my observation. They graciously didn’t seem to mind my question or possible intrusion. One lady said, “Fritter? Our server called it a hoecake. We didn’t know what that was but it sounded like we should put syrup on it, so we did.”
OMGosh! Even worse! No wonder they had to use a knife and fork.
P.S. I don’t even want to know that you had to look up what a fritter or hoecake looks like.
This is just unbelievable. When they say, “Great minds think alike”, I am happy to be in the company of these women.
It’s college football season. Time for tailgating with friends and cheering on your favorite team donned in all the university’s regalia. We hosted long time friends to our lake house near Auburn where the Tigers were hosting the Clemson Tigers. And there was a lot of orange involved.
Our friends used to live about 7 hours away from where HUBBY and I live. They have since moved and now it’s only around 4 hours. We were “meeting in the middle”, so to speak and I couldn’t wait to laugh along with the wife who I had known since dating HUBBY days. Her husband is a fraternity brother of HUBBY’s and was in our wedding. We have known them a long time.
I should have remembered they did like seafood but to be on the safe side, I called to see if they did. I wanted to make a jambalaya for a meal while they were our guests. I just felt like having this although it wasn’t really cold weather for a stew. My thinking was, “It will be something different that I bet they haven’t had in a while.” And that was true. They were happy to know I was going to serve it.
I prepared it a few days before their arrival which was Friday afternoon. There was going to be a spread of food at another frat brother’s house Friday night that we were all invited to and also on Saturday night there was a catered affair for tons of folks. I would serve the stew Saturday for lunch.
I was very happy with the way my recipe turned out. How could it not be good with 3 pounds of shrimp in it that I painstakingly shelled and deveined?
Here is the recipe:
Easy Jambalaya Recipe
Prep time – 20 minutes. Cook time – 45 minutes. Total time – 1 hour and 5 minutes.
Serves: 4-6 servings
Ingredients
2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into cubes
3 lbs.frozen shrimp
4 sausages (andouille sausage is most common, but use whatever you like!), sliced
2 tbsp. olive oil
1 onion, chopped
3 green peppers, chopped
3 celery stalks, sliced
2-3 garlic cloves, minced
1 (14 oz) can diced tomatoes
3 bay leaves
1 tsp. Worcestershire
1 cup uncooked rice
3 cups chicken broth
1 tsp. cayenne
½ tsp. paprika
½ tsp. dried oregano
½ tsp. ground thyme
as much frozen okra as desired
Instructions
In a large saucepan, heat olive oil over medium-high heat. Add onion, peppers, celery, and garlic. Cook for a couple of minutes, or until veggies begin to sweat. Add the chicken and sausage, stirring frequently, using more olive oil if necessary. Cook until meat is browned and chicken is no longer pink. Season with salt, pepper, cayenne, paprika, oregano, and thyme. Cook for 1 more minute.
Stir in tomatoes, broth, Worcestershire, okra, and bay leaves. Bring to a boil and add rice. Reduce heat to a simmer and cook for 20-30 minutes, or until rice is cooked through. Add more broth if necessary, but if you stir often enough, there should be no worries of burning or sticking.
When the rice is almost cooked, stir in the frozen shrimp. Cook until heated through.
Serve!
With tailgate food at the two couples houses, how could my dish not be considered a rare treat? Well, I was about to get a total shock.
We landed at the Friday night affair. While standing around in the kitchen (like every one does) drinking and talking, the dinner was being prepared in a gigantic pot. When the hostess opened the lid I just about freaked. There was her version of jambalaya. Oh, my poor guests! There were going to now have that same meal two times in a weekend and in less then 16 hours. The meal is wonderful but to offer it twice? What could I do about it? I hadn’t brought anything else to offer them for lunch the next day. Well, it wasn’t the worst thing in the world to only have it TWICE in a weekend.
Here is her recipe:
Ingredients
1 lb. shrimp
1 lb. kielbasa, sliced into 1″ rounds
1 can beef consomme soup
1 can French onion soup
1 can Rotel, original
1 stick butter, cut into pieces
2 Bay leaves
1 bunch spring onions, chopped
1&1/2 cups Uncle Bens rice, uncooked
Mix altogether except for the shrimp. Bring to a boil and simmer until rice is done. I usually cook about 45 minutes and then add the shrimp just before serving.
After her wonderful – and I do mean wonderful – dinner (doesn’t it always taste better when someone else prepares the meal?) I decided to let her in on my quandary. How funny, we both thought. I am so glad she had a sense of humor about it all. Such a coincidence! By Saturday’s lunch, I was feeling OK about not having jambalaya myself for lunch since I had just had it the night before. I did prepare it for my guests, though. I cooked a satisfying breakfast and thought when we arrived at the next party, I would find something else to eat besides Cajun food.
When we arrived, the chafing dishes were set out in her kitchen and we could see our host and hostess had decided to cater their party. The hostess from the night before was there and as I was standing across the kitchen counter where the food was laid out, I watched her open the lid to see what meal was prepared for all of us. Then I saw the reaction of almost HORROR and afterwards a laugh on her face and I knew exactly what she had found and how she felt about it. That’s right: jambalaya! AGAIN! My poor guests were ONLY having this Creole delight for the entire weekend, except for the breakfasts I would be serving. These coincidences were just hilarious and of course we had to let THIS hostess in on the joke.
I spoke to the caterer and this was their recipe:
NEW ORLEANS JAMBALAYA WITH SHRIMP AND SAUSAGE
Serves: 8-10 servings
INGREDIENTS
ROUX:
½ cup high heat oil, such as canola, corn, or vegetable
½ cup all purpose flour
GUMBO:
1 medium onion, diced
2 bell peppers (I used ½ of each red, green, yellow, orange – see note), diced
3 stalks celery, diced
6 cloves garlic, minced
3 bay leaves
8 ounces andouille sausage, sliced (I used Tofurky)
2 tablespoons EACH: cajun seasoning AND tabasco sauce (more or less to taste)
1 tablespoon cayenne (omit if you want it mild)
4 cups low sodium chicken broth
1 (14.5 ounce can) stewed tomatoes and juices, roughly diced
sliced scallions + white rice or quinoa, for serving
INSTRUCTIONS
ROUX: Heat the oil in a large dutch oven or a heavy bottom pot over medium-high heat. Whisk in the flour until combined and smooth. Switch to a wooden spoon and continuously stir for 15-22 minutes or until the roux darkens to just past a deep peanut butter color. Do not let the roux burn! (if you smell it burning, you will need to throw is out, clean the pot, and start over, unfortunately there’s just no saving burnt roux!)
Once the roux reaches that deep rich brown color, stir in the onions, bell peppers, and celery and continue to cook, stirring as needed so the vegetables don’t stick. About 8-10 minutes or until the veggies soften. Add the garlic, andouille sausage (if using tofurky, do not add yet), and bay leaves. Continue to cook for an additional 1-2 minutes until the garlic is nice and fragrant.
Add the cajun seasoning, tabasco sauce, and cayenne along with the chicken broth and stewed tomatoes and bring to a high simmer before lowering the heat to medium-low, covering and simmering for 15-20 minutes.
IF USING TOFURKY: add a teaspoon of oil to a skillet over medium high heat. Add the slices and cook for a quick 90 seconds (turning half way) just to sear the outside before adding to the gumbo.
Add the shrimp and tofurky (if using) to the gumbo, give it a stir and allow to continue to simmer for an additional 10 -15 minutes or until the shrimp is opaque and the veggies have softened. Taste and season with salt and pepper as desired. Add the gumbo filé and stir. Remove bay leaves before serving.
TO SERVE: Serve warm with white rice or quinoa with sliced scallions on top.
Delicious!
Before bed, I checked my Twitter and since I receive Southern Living Magazine tweets, it was important that very night they send out to their readers several great recipes that would feed a large crowd for any upcoming football games. The variety of recipes were for the same meal and what did I NEED to know for future reference? What do YOU think?
I am going to let you in on a little secret. Even though I majored in public speaking as an undergraduate because I was given this GIFT OF GAB, it doesn’t mean that I didn’t get a little anxious before going on stage.
When I sang in my high school or church girl’s trio or solo, I had butterflies and sometimes my voice cracked and I couldn’t sing well. Before I went on stage for a drama performance, I was nervous and my strong voice was unusually quieter. When I competed in some pageant, I threw up. Yes – tossed my cookies. While hovering over the toilet, I would hold my beautiful gown back with one hand and my hair with the other and give into my nerves.
But eventually over time, I got a little better. My inspiring CO-TEACHER friend (from my SAK books) and I conducted many regional and state Gifted conferences and even one national Gifted Conference during our 8 years of teaching together. There were two of us so no one was looking directly at me! She would speak while I prepped something then I would talk while she coordinated something for the next segment and we were never speaking alone, really. While preparing for our next individual speaking moment, we would interject something relevant here and there while the other performed. Neither of us minded. It really took the stress off of carrying the conference sessions by ourselves.
I became more comfortable leading a group of 20, 50, or even hundreds.
Then the money ran out. The county we worked for couldn’t afford to send us to share our lesson plans or conduct these workshops any longer and I got out of the habit of being comfortable while public speaking.
Two close friends died pretty soon after these educational speaking engagements stopped. But I was still known as someone who wouldn’t mind speaking before crowds. No, I didn’t mind. But giving a eulogy? I mean, all eyes were on me. There were no handouts to divert the attention away from the speaker (me) like at the conferences. There was no candy to throw into the audience to keep them engaged with all our infotainment. There was no overhead projector for power points to have them watch while we were talking. I was alone.
And nervous. This was a serious moment. I had to come up with something to get me through this.
I have this specialty concoction that I use on general occasions when I want to be the belle of the ball. It’s called: SCOTCH. I take 2 shots. Neat. I am not a real fan of Scotch. It doesn’t taste good (until the second one) and that makes it hard to swallow. But I tell you, even if I don’t like it very much, it sure likes me. It must be because of my Scottish DNA. I mean, I am the darling at the party AND at the funerals. Yes, yours truly took her nerve medicine BEFORE she gave those eulogies. It just calmed me and made me relaxed enough to get the job done. And WHERE did I take those 2 shots? Well, I used to drink those double airplane miniatures in my car after I parked in the church parking lot. Away from people. I would get there a little early, park far away, and down those suckers. I was chilled and in a good frame of mind when it was my turn to speak (for such a sad situation) that after it was all over people came up to me saying how entertaining I was. I was worried that I might be called on to be the “go to” person when someone needed a speaker for funerals…that people were going to start calling me up and that I was going to have to get an agent. I was a hit because I always talked about the celebration of the person’s life and made it more upbeat. And the Scotch did the talking. Right?
Now I am speaking at author engagements. And guess what? To take the edge off in the beginning, I began using the recommended dosage of my nerve medicine. It allowed me to be my uninhibited comical self. But I no longer needed to sit in a parking lot to down the elixirs. Those little DEWAR’s miniatures went into the buildings with me. WHAT? Well, when you have size D bra cups they didn’t fall out. Then, all it took was a bathroom trip. It all sounds very clandestine. Well, it was!
Yes, go ahead. Be shocked! But I know what you are thinking. You are glad YOU weren’t the one giving the speech or the eulogy. Jerry Seinfeld, my idol, said that according to a poll he read, the #1 fear of people is public speaking. Am I right? So, he continues…
(Before I begin, find the typos in the picture. Sorry, it’s the English teacher in me. But just think of it as a game. I will not know what you find – unless you want to leave me a message on my FB page.) I found 6.
July 28, 2016 – My pre-school (you know that had to be a long time ago!) teacher’s genius son ended up at MIT and founded another part of the atom in the 1950’s. I once heard that when he was in first grade, he received an “F” on a report card. When he brought this information home, he asked his mother, “What does ‘F’ mean?” She remarked, “It means you are FANTASTIC!” She couldn’t bring herself to tell him what it really meant because, after all, he was just 6.
I have a long resume of teaching gigs: church pre-school, church adult Sunday School, public elementary school, home school, public middle school, public high school, summer school, and public night school.
My night school job was eye-opening. Thank goodness for a somewhat- last- chance for some students. Those who make the most of it, I congratulate you! But for those who are there (and WHY are they there if they aren’t trying to better themselves? and are just biding their time – for what? – to be able to get a driver’s license?) please don’t disrupt my trying to teach you something.
I learned later that I had a female student who was in my night school class because she was thrown out of her county school system for throwing a desk at someone. I think that someone was a teacher. Thanks for the heads up!
I tried to make the American Literature lessons relevant. I really did. One student obediently came to class every night, sat quietly as a mouse, and failed every test. When he didn’t pass the class he spoke to me for the first time (although I did try to prompt him to contribute to the discussion in class to little success). He asked me why he made an “F”. I answered that 1) he made an “F” on every test and 2) there was not much contribution in the class discussions for me to be able to determine he was absorbing the material for him to pass. I couldn’t tell what he knew. He responded, “But I came to class every night!” I countered by saying, “Would I use a doctor that showed up to my surgery with a SCAPLE making “F’s” on all his grades just because he attended every medical lecture? Would YOU want that?”
He was a really nice guy and I hated to drop that news on him, but I certainly couldn’t GIVE him something without some signs of comprehension. I wanted to. But my conscience wouldn’t let me. It wouldn’t be fair to those who did work for it. I felt terrible for him.
Gosh, it’s hard on the students these days. I am not being sarcastic either. It really is. All the demands they and others put on themselves. They need to remember this: more “C” average college students become CEO’s of corporations. They have learned how to balance fun and grades.
My good friend, Swoozie, works for a public school test prep company whose website vision states:
“PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT
With lots of opportunities to review and practice concepts and skills, Common Core Performance Coach is the program that will pave the path to success on the new high-stakes assessments.
The program allows teachers to implement lessons in a variety of ways and can reinforce Common Core Coach instruction or supplement any other program. Many examples are provided in order to solidify understanding. Practice tests mirror question types that will be seen in the new assessments and simulates in paper format what students will see online.
Common Core Performance Coach is perfect for ongoing instruction throughout the year or more intensive instruction and test prep before the tests.”
She recently received a phone call while at work. The name that popped up on her phone screen read, JESUS. (She was nervous for moment that JESUS was calling. LOL). Well, after rationalizing that and calming down, she answered and heard, “Can I speak to the manager?” She said he sounded very young and she replied, “I’m the manager. Can I help?” He commented, “I’m in class right now and I need the answers.”
She replied, “I am sorry but we don’t provide answers to students.” He said, “Thank you” and hung up. Using his cell phone in class, he must have found her company’s website and called for THE ANSWERS!
Some things change and then again some things don’t: He was so polite…and I bet he showed up every day to class.
July 18, 2016 – Who remembers Mrs. Wiggins from the 1970’s Carol Burnett Show? What a fiasco she was at her job. Yet, Mr. Tudball still needed a secretary.
I sometimes think we could all benefit from a personal assistant or secretary. Especially those forgetful middle schoolers or high schoolers. Teaching in the middle school I had to take the course THE MIDDLE SCHOOL LEARNER to keep my 6-12 grades teaching certificate current for five years. While teaching Gifted students and learning more about brain development because of my classes, I became convinced it might be necessary to help those who are “in a fog” have some kind of personal organizer.
Our county gave our students an AGENDA to write down due dates for assignments but if you lost things, like most did at that age, then losing the AGENDA was one of those items at the top of the list. I had an entire collection of left-behind AGENDAs in my room at the end of the day. Believe me, I remember many excuses from even the most gifted students about why their homework wasn’t turned in on time (or at all!).
The teen brain – in a quick rundown – is still under construction. A teen is much more drawn to the immediate reward of a situation than adults are. They are much less likely to think ahead and think about the future. The future can be just an hour later. And the male brain takes a LONG time to work it’s way into an adult version. Most recently I read – hold on to your seat – around 27-29. (I still have a child that is 22 and holding out hope for a quicker entry into adulthood.)
My family just got back from the lake where my oldest brought along one of his best friends since middle school and visiting with him again after not seeing him for a few years, the memories of his middle school behavior flooded back because I was also his teacher. “J” has been the topic of several of my conversations and stories over the years because he is certainly HIGH VOLTAGE and his mind NEVER shuts off. He is also a delight.
I fondly recall one day when he was in 6th grade. I have no idea the discussion going on in the classroom but I do remember “J” politely raising his hand and when called upon he said, “Last night when I stayed up past bedtime reading the ‘M’ volume of the Encyclopedia Brittanica, I noticed….” I do not recollect a thing after that preface. This brilliant student read FOR FUN volumes of the encyclopedia.
We would take “J” on vacations with us during his middle school years and one time the conversation going on in the back seat of our car was the discussion between two 13 year old boys and “J’s” analysis of the different war fronts during WWII…where and what the Germans, the French, the Americans, etc. did in their respective theaters. I mean, 13! And my husband would listen in and turn to me and say, “He’s right.” I thought middle school boys might discuss fishing or video games. “J” was a history resource.
But he rarely turned in his homework, even when he used the school AGENDA for organizational help. I called his mother, a friend, and told her I had an idea. Let’s get “J” a secretary. Maybe she could pay some really organized GIRL to call “J” and remind him outside of class about the assignments that were due. It would be a win-win! A middle school girl would have some extra money. “J” is reminded of what is due in school. MOTHER doesn’t have to have a heart attack when he doesn’t turn in his work and gets a ZERO in the teacher’s grade book and has to have to have a parent conference with TEACHER a zillion times during the school year. MOTHER doesn’t have to be involved AT ALL! I mean, if both of my children had needed help like this, I’d have done it. Mine were just mildly forgetful (worrisome enough). But “J” was one of those genius students (still is) who on our lake trip, thought during his visit he had lost 1) his only pair of prescription glasses (that if he HAD lost them, he really could not see and was leaving in a couple of weeks to work in China for a year and would have a tough time trying to secure another set before then) and 2) couldn’t keep up with his phone the entire weekend.
And his age? 30. I still LOVE this man/boy! But God, please bless him in China.
July 8, 2016 – Between teaching careers I took a break and worked in sales. I eased back into education permanently by revisiting the classroom through substituting. Having had enough experience in teaching before I left for a decade, I knew all about the role of “substitute teacher” – no respect. In high school the students have figured out that – and usually correct – you have no background in education and will just be a babysitter for the day. Their mentality is “How much can we get away with?”
But since I did have 4 years previously in the classroom, I was thinking what they were thinking and decided to beat them at their own game.
In the early 1990’s students’ parents had to sign a waiver if an image of their child could be used in any media – school calendars which had pictures of the students in the county schools highlighting various activities, newspaper stories of school events and students’ awards, and any kind of video recordings that might be used in the media. Some parents signed the waiver, others did not.
But nothing was said of audio recordings. So, every middle or high school I walked into that morning to “babysit”, I first stopped by the media center, asked for a tape recorder and blank tape, walked confidently into the classroom with both, and set the recorder at the front of the classroom for all eyes to see. When the bell rang to begin the class period, before I took roll, I proceeded to tell them the reason for the recording device. I was going to audio tape their voices and behavior in the classroom and give it to their teacher along with my notes about this particular class. I would place my notes and the tape in her teacher box so she would have it immediately when she checked for an update of how things went the day she was absent.
After that announcement, IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE CLASS, I pushed the RECORD/PLAY button at the same time to begin the recording. I pushed the buttons with grandeur to dramatize the moment so they were aware that their behavior was being monitored starting at that moment. Everything was transparent
And, believe me, it worked. Sometimes when the class was a little rowdy and I had to call down a student or two, first – their voices could be heard on tape, and second – I’d mention, “Abigail, Abigail? You need to settle down a bit.” (Notice I said “ABIGAIL” and not “JOHNNY”. I am so tired of Johnny’s name being overused as the misbehaved child….plus also using a boy as the representative wild student.
Once, the recorded behavior that I used enhanced a case about a student who was disruptive with his REAL teacher.
I tell mothers today about how they can whip (hopefully) their children into line immediately at home or even more importantly – IN PUBLIC!!!!!!!!!!!
I wish I could have taken my own advice. My boys are 30 and 22 respectively. In those 8 years there were inventions that did improve my mothering capabilities from the oldest to the youngest. But what I needed most hadn’t been invented yet…the photo options of the cell phone.
Why did I need this phone function and what do I tell mothers today about WHY they should administer this video recording on their own children? Because when children, like my own did at times, start acting out – record it. Then there really is no discussion when you disagree over the behavior you wanted changed. The child ( I think you could do this step even as young as 3? ) sees his/her action that you wanted thwarted and instead of ” intentionally not remembering” or “really not remembering”, the incident is captured to hone in on the behavior you want improved.
Don’t forget your pets this Independence Day weekend…
July 1, 2016
Dogs can be thunderstruck, too, during the 4th of July Festivities. I know our sweetie Wheatie, Kelly, was a bundle of nerves whenever the yearly fireworks came out, not to mention the real deal of thunder and lightning. We bought her a THUNDER COAT and it DID help as a drug-free anxiety dog treatment. Nobody wants to have to deal with this –
If you haven’t bought one for your pet, you can make your own.
Because remember –
Here’s to a happy and SAFE Independence Day weekend!!!!!!!!!!!
June 14 – TUESDAY. Shopping at my friendly PUBLIX supermarket today, I tried to pull one over on the the cashier…. the one that scans your groceries. Wednesdays are SENIOR DISCOUNT days. If you don’t know what that is, ask your mother or grandmother. I recently (3 years ago) became one of those. Before and even now, I hate to shop on Wednesdays with all the geriatrics which I now am. Oh, I don’t mind saying I am one – to get the deals (WHOOPIE – 5% off) – but it’s the maneuvering around the buggies, the canes, the walkers, and just basically slow octogenarians, which I will be in the not to distant future. I better shut up.
While unloading my purchases on the food belt, I did preface to the cashier that what I was about to say was a joke, but I wish I hadn’t done that. I think the element of surprise on her face might have even been better had I just created a new prank. I said, “I am a Senior Discount Customer. Can I get the early-bird discount special today, Tuesday, rather than wait until tomorrow?” I wish I had just acted like I normally do around my friends and family – forgetful – and pretend it was Wednesday just to get her reaction like a real forgetful person would NORMALLY be. But that might be cruel. And I tell you who it would be cruel to – ME! I am doing those forgetful things.
But there was one gift today in the grocery. My order taker behind the deli heard my 3 different sliced meat order (ham, turkey, corned beef) and then I asked her may I return in a few moments to pick it up? That was fine. But while shopping in another aisle, she found me, and asked me to repeat the 3rd meat order. I retold her and she left. I was so grateful! Not because she found me, but because she had also forgotten! AND when I came to pick up the order, I asked her age. 40. I thanked her again and we chatted a moment about forgetfulness, which we both had experienced.
There’s a little relief in hearing that. Not much. But some. I am not alone.
My dear teacher friends are ready to play for 2 months. I don’t know one that has to go to school to either get their teaching certificate renewed or to take more courses for their Master’s or other programs. They are DONE!
This is good news for me. I still hang out with some younger teachers who are so sweet to WANT to hang with me. Marrying later in life (30), my younger child is close in age to their OLDEST. So, when it is said that having children later in life keeps you young, maybe it’s this: I get to know what the latest in fashion, pop culture, books, gadgets, etc. are because they educate me when I am with them. It sure can’t be the other – FEELING YOUNG WHEN I AM NOT YOUNG!
I remember what it was like to cruise those last days of post planning. Grades were in. Desks were moved to the hall so custodians could wax your floors. Bulletins board torn down after they were painfully created months earlier. Boredom because there is really nothing to do except “do time” for being there (or not – don’t tell anybody). I’d LEAVE my lights on, door open, books open, anything to make it look like somebody was home. Notice I said LEAVE.
But teaching is all about the kids. I’ve written about the classroom and certain students in my books. A special TEACHER’S EDITION is forthcoming next year. However, I just heard today – the end of another school year – from a former student from his high school days in the late 1970’s. I befriended him on Facebook recently. He wrote, “Just wanted to reach out to you. You taught Creative writing at Redan High School. You might remember me by my middle name, Lamar. One day you had us write short stories based upon recorded sounds you played. One student had the entire class in tears with his humor. I will never forget him reading the first few lines: ‘Stop brushing that dog’s teeth with that tooth brush; it’s mine and your sister uses it too!’ Jeffrey was unique and seemed to embrace it. You waited until the next day when Jeffrey was not there to recount a lesson I will never forget: He may be different but for someone to crack us all up like that took intelligence. You knew that most people thought Jeffrey really lacked something like social skills among other things. I saw everyone differently after that lesson. It was an important one.”
I did that? Do you know it was only my second year teaching?
I feel sure there was another teacher out there who emulated that same behavior sometime in my years as a student. I am sure I just copied and pasted that in my brain when it became my turn to demonstrate. Pay it forward.
And I hadn’t thought of that event since. Thank you, Dale Lamar Bailey. You make me want to be a better person.
P.S. What happened to Jeffrey? Sadly, his eccentric behavior caused a fatal accident. Climbing a pole for some reason, he fell to his death. Age? Still in high school.
April 5, 2016 – Azaleas, pimento cheese sandwiches, and golf
It’s the Masters in Augusta this week and a couple of things come to mind.
My dad loved golf and I loved golf because my dad loved golf. (Check out 4/3 video.) A college boyfriend’s parents inherited the coveted tickets (badges), which meant they went every year. Lucky them.
I’ve been twice. First – with college boyfriend, who also invited my parents for the weekend play (special!) and second with NANOOO (see SAK – Confessions from a Southern Girl’s Closet AND SAK – Anecdotes from a Southern Girl’s Attic).
NANOOO and I went during the week (before the cut).
In 1976 when my parents and I went, my mother was not standing really close to the green, but still close enough that her laugh at just the wrong moment disturbed the pro before putting and he looked up in disgust. He didn’t know, thank goodness, it was us. BUT WE did! I was totally embarrassed. Would college boyfriend invite us (me?) back? (Never did – but it might have been because we broke up – not because of my mother’s ill-timed laugh). And the golfer, Raymond Floyd, went on to win the tournament that year anyway. What was the big deal?
I knew I always wanted to date/marry a golfer and I did. While we dated in the early 1980’s, I secured tickets from a family friend but future-hubby had to work and could not attend. So, I took NANOOO, a girlfriend who appreciated the game and not just the time-honored tradition pimento cheese sandwiches at Augusta National.
Recently, while on book tour, I met a gentleman from Atlanta who grew up in there in the 1960’s and as he put it, “…with a silver spoon in my mouth.” His parents were members of East Lake Golf Club. In passing, he told me about his playing golf as a young man and how his father was surprised he was not a better golfer than he was. He insisted to his father that he really hadn’t played much golf since taking lessons around the age of 5 at East Lake. He mentioned he would be a better player had he kept it up.
His father then added, “But still. You should be better at this game than you are because you took lessons from Bobby Jones.”
My sweetie Wheatie left us at the end of 2014. I purposely bought a female dog to help balance all the male testosterone in my house. Both sons were still living at home when we purchased her in 2003. We had always had male dogs because my husband chose the breed and the particular dog from the breeder. Even when we rescued dogs, which we did with our Scottish Terrier Rescue, I didn’t get my girlfriend. But when our last Sealyham Terrier, Teddy, died and my husband was so distraught about it and not wanting another right away, I thought I needed to help him with his grief, but I was going to hide it with the dog being MY CHOICE this time.
We also had 2 male cats, which we adopted, so I truly was happy to have our Kelly. We became very close. You would think right off, but she started out as a very hyper active puppy as this Soft-Coated Wheaten breed is. But even as I loved her from the start and did all kinds of research on her breed, it still took me a while to just enjoy her because of boundless energy. As she grew older, still with puppy personalty, she did calm down eventually.
Where did “Man’s Best Friend” come from? The statement that the dog is man’s best friend was first recorded as being made by Frederick II, King of Prussia, referring to one of his Italian greyhounds as his best friend, according to Wiki. In Homer‘s Odyssey (c. 8th century BC), upon Odysseus‘ return, his beloved dog Argos is the only individual to recognize him. The term was likely popularized by its use in a poem by Ogden Nash:
“The dog is man’s best friend. He has a tail on one end. Up in front he has teeth. And four legs underneath.” – Ogden Nash – An Introduction to Dogs
I think this article truly describes why dogs enrich our lives.
To put it simply, dogs are awesome. Whether they’re begging for your food, barking at their leash to convince you to take them on a walk, or simply greeting you when you get home, dogs do all of the little things that put smiles on faces around the world. What are some of the more endearing reasons why dogs are and always will be man’s best friend? Read on…
1. Dogs have terrible short-term memories.
One of the crappier aspects of human friends is that, generally speaking, they remember all of the times you’ve wronged them and will hold it against you for the rest of their lives. Dogs, on the other hand, have the “gift” of poor memory. That means you can mess with their tail, play keep away with their food, and tug on their ears to your heart’s content, even if it annoys them. You get to have your fun, and your dog will forget all about it and treat you like their best bud within a couple minutes! It’s truly one of the only win-win scenarios in life.
Poor Kelly having to hang with her nephew, Jager, a boxer puppy. She’s worn out.
2. Dogs have great long-term memories.
While your pooch will forget you pulling on their tail, they won’t forget the connection they share with you, and, if you are good to them, you will leave a lasting impact on them that they’ll never shake off. Take, for instance, my dachshund Chester. From a young age he was babied by my mom, and now, nearly twelve years later, he never leaves her side. Unfortunately this sort of thing goes both ways, as I used to mess with him quite a bit on a consistent basis (actually I don’t think it had anything to do with me; he’s just too attached to my mom to like anyone else), and so nowadays he barks in my general direction whenever words of any sort come forth from my mouth.
3. Dogs have your back.
Even though my dog Chester isn’t exactly a huge fan of me, he’ll still take me over strangers. Now, when a dog actually likes me (like my dog Sally does), they’ll defend you even more vehemently. Whenever a creepy solicitor or girl scout cookie peddling entrepreneur knocks on your door, your dog will be right there beside you barking at them as you tremble behind a corner, too afraid to answer. Of course, this can go a little overboard, like this one time when the UPS guy showed up and tried to put a box on my porch, only to be chased away by three dogs rushing out to defend the homeland. Understandably, he now leaves packages by the front gate instead.
4. Dogs can mimic your emotions.
Based on the tone of your voice and your body language, your dog will do its darnedest to emulate your current state of mind. When you’re sad, they’ll look at you with big doe eyes. When your angry, the fur will rise on their backs and they’ll start barking and growling at inanimate objects. Whereas humans might not respond to your emotional upswings and downswings in a way that you’d prefer, dogs will always be there whether you’re thrilled, depressed, or anywhere in between.
5. Dogs act as mini-dishwashers.
Ok, that sounds a little gross, but hear me out. Ever finish dinner and have too little food on your plate to save, but too much that it’d be a hassle to wash it in the sink? Well, here’s where your dog comes in! Just hand the plate over and let them polish it off. They’ll be happy, and you’ll have an easier time doing the dishes!
6. Dogs are great motivational tools.
In case you’re afraid that using your dog as a dishwasher will lead to them becoming overweight, fear not. Dogs prefer being active, at least when they’re younger. Make use of their abundance of energy and take them on walks, or, if you are super ambitious, runs! They’ll be tuckered out and supremely amused, and you’ll be on track to becoming a healthier person!
7. Dogs are freaking smart!
Intelligence varies depending on the kind of breed you get, but overall, dogs are some of the most intuitive animals around. This is demonstrated by their multiple facial expressions (I especially like the one where they tilt their head and look at you quizzically), their ability to deviously hide toys in the strangest of places, and more. One of my dogs is a miniature schnauzer, and he cracks me up with how smart he is. I have a few tennis balls by my desk (which I don’t use for tennis; I just toss em in the air whenever I’m concentrating), and he knows this. So, what he does is go on little reconnaissance missions into my room. If I’m in there, he pretends to look out my window or inspect my bed, while simultaneously stealing a few glancesat my tennis balls (which usually lay haphazardly on the floor). Then, he’ll leave, but only after making a mental checklist of where the balls are. Later in the day, or it could even be several days later, I’ll go downstairs and see him happily chewing at one of my tennis balls, a mischievous look in his eye as he gazes up at me. It’s hilarious every time! He planned a stealth mission, waited for me to leave my room, retrieved the ball, and escaped without me noticing. Sounds like he should be made an honorary Navy Seal…
8. Dogs won’t allow you to eat alone ever again.
Who wants to eat alone? Sure it’s nice sometimes, but even as an introvert I’ll admit to liking a nice dinner with other people (only if I enjoy their company of course). Well, fear not, because if you have a dog you’ll always have company for dinner. Of course, they’ll be sitting by your knee, panting in your face, asking for your food, but it’s company all the same! Recently I went to go eat alone in my room, when I heard a distinct huffing and puffing outside my door. Turns out my 14 year old dachshund Sally had dragged her fat little body all the way up two flights of stairs to be there while I ate (presumably because she expected me to give her some of my Chinese food — oh and by the way she looked exactly like the corgi pictured in the above gif). After you’ve had a dog, it’s difficult to eat without the incessant barking in the background!
9. Dogs won’t leave you hanging.
Ever make plans with a human friend, only to find out that they canceled at the last minute? Well, no need to worry about that when you have a dog. They don’t know how to use phones, as far as I know, so there’s no reason to fear them calling up the neighbor’s poodle to see if they want to hit up some local bars, abandoning you to your TV and a paltry, lonesome microwave dinner. They’re there for you, and you alone!
10. Dogs know how to live.
To put it simply, dogs behave like humans who aren’t concerned about the more ridiculous aspects of sentient existence. For example, paying the bills, getting an education, running errands, dealing with annoying people all of the time, etc. All they want to do is wake up, say hi to you, run around, play with their toys, eat, nap, eat again, nap again, say hi again, and sleep. Is that so bad?! Sure, we humans have certain responsibilities thanks to our “intelligence,” but it sure would be nice if we could all go through life like dogs; care free and completely sure of ourselves. At the very least, if you have a dog, you can live vicariously through them. As long as you know what you’re getting into, it’s totally worth it!
So, here’s my praise to all dogs but especially my Kelly. Since hubby wants to do some traveling and dogs can interfere with those plans, at the moment we are not thinking of getting a new canine. BUT, if you want me to dog-sit, just let me know.
Article comes from http://www.lifehack.org/articles/lifestyle/10-reasons-why-dogs-are-mans-best-friend.html
“Mothers in the ‘sandwich generation,’ ages 35-54, feel more stress than any other age group as they balance the demanding, delicate acts of caring for growing children and their aging parents” according to the American Psychological Association’s 2007 Stress in America survey. “And while nearly two-in-five men and women in this age group feel overextended, the survey reveals that more women than men report experiencing extreme stress and say they manage their stress poorly.”
I was once in this situation you may find yourself in right now. Here is the literal image of my situation: I was the one, age 44, taking my mother, age 84, to the doctor for her appointments. Of course they fell on days that my 4-year old was not in church preschool. He had to tag along and behave quietly in the doctor’s waiting room for who knows how long. He was great. But he was 4. And a boy. So, when it was time to go, he would bolt out of the sliding glass doors toward the parking lot with me in tow. Oh, wait! I have a mother behind me with her walker. Several times I caught myself shouting (I think I really did shout), “Slow down, John! Hurry up, mother! Slow down, John! Hurry up mother!” gesticulating with my hands on both ends (using crossing guard hand to slow down and waving hand to hurry up.) Get the picture? Tip of the iceberg. Talk about stress.
Let me offer my own kind of help.
Therapeutic Benefits of Laughter
Dr. Lee Berk and fellow researcher Dr. Stanley Tan of Loma Linda University in California have studied the effects of laughter on the immune system.
Here is a summary of how humor contributes to physical health More details can be found in the article, Humor and Health contributed by Paul McGhee
“Muscle Relaxation – Belly laugh results in muscle relaxation. While you laugh, the muscles that do not participate in the belly laugh, relaxes. After you finish laughing those muscles involved in the laughter start to relax. So, the action takes place in two stages.
Reduction of Stress Hormones – Laughter reduces at least four of neuroendocrine hormones associated with stress response. These are epinephrine, cortisol, dopac, and growth hormone.
Immune System Enhancement – Clinical studies have shown that humor strengthens the immune system.
Pain Reduction – Humor allows a person to “forget” about pains such as aches, arthritis, etc.
Cardiac Exercise – A belly laugh is equivalent to “an internal jogging.” Laughter can provide good cardiac conditioning especially for those who are unable to perform physical exercises.
Blood Pressure – Women seem to benefit more than men in preventing hypertension.
Respiration – Frequent belly laughter empties your lungs of more air than it takes in resulting in a cleansing effect – similar to deep breathing. Especially beneficial for patient’s who are suffering from emphysema and other respiratory ailments.”
One just can’t cry all the time with the demands and stresses of the day. I tried to find the humor in my predicament. (Not always easy…and not always). But if a giggle a day can be a little “pick-me-up”, then maybe, like releasing the KRAKEN, I’ve helped you release your stress for just a moment. Good luck to you.
![Col. Shuffle from Looney Tunes cartoon, "Dog Gone South." [One of his only two appearances.]](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/aa/00/0c/aa000c560bd00ce509df83b605f0d69f.jpg)
