What We Did During Spring Break 1990

 

These pictures represent a spring break trip that our family took around 1990. Most folks plan a trip to warm places like Florida, Myrtle Beach or even Jamaica for spring break - a little get away from the winter forces. And this was the argument we all presented to Philip (my husband) when he got the big idea for us to go north - yes, north, to Holland, Michigan for our spring break.

 

 

Philip told us that Holland, Michigan holds a huge Tulip Festival every spring.  He told us this in mid March, not knowing that the Tulip Festival in Holland, Michigan takes place in mid May. So we set out for the Dunes (which Philip loves) and the tulips of Holland, Michigan.

 

 

We arrived in the afternoon to beautiful, sun filled streets but no people anywhere in sight. Once we got out of our car, we knew why the streets were deserted. And knew instantly where the people were - inside! The lake effect winds (and Holland, Michigan sets right on the lake - on the front lines of lake effect anything) hit us like stinging bees! It was cold! I don't think the temperature got above 20 degrees for the entire time we were there.

 

 

Did I tell you that there was not a living tulip in sight? Just lots of posters about the coming Tulip Festival, many weeks away. So we made the most of it and drove around town to see the sights. One of the coolest attractions in Holland, Michigan is the Big Red Lighthouse.

 

 

Yet the main memory that sticks with me about that trip was the bitter cold. Wet, piercing cold. And then that fog that set in at night. It was like a scene from The Shining. The scene where Jack Nicholson's crazy character (wielding an ax) is chasing that young child through the streets. We'd decided to walk from our motel to a restaurant which was about 100 yards away. The parking lot was empty. The thick, soupy fog blurred the light from the street lights and the wind came at us like razors. When you're wearing gloves and keep thinking that you need to put on gloves (over your existing gloves), it's cold! It would have been a perfect time to pierce our noses. Ah, good times.

 

This particular spring break trip was also one of the last, if not the very last trip that our daughter, Kora, took with us as a complete family unit.

 

And I write about it now in honor of her upcoming 40th birthday. Let's all get together one of these years and go to the actual, Holland Michigan Tulip Festival. Like your Dad told us then "It'll be fun."

 

Father Washington

 

 

 

   It's a beautiful room, full of sun and lovely furniture. A picture of peace. It's the room where President George Washington left this world. It's Washington's bedroom at Mt. Vernon. I post this here like a roadside, memorial cross. My little, online shrine.

   I drive about 35 miles round trip, four days a week, to my job in Anderson, Indiana. One day I decided to go by the local library and get some audio books to listen to on my travels.

   I chose Ron Chernow's book, Washington: A Life. It was read by Scott Brick.

   I put the first disc, of the 12 disc book, into my car disc player and the world of motoring, sound technology, history and story telling came together in a lovely way for my daily journey. And it's amazing how much the reader can affect the experience of an audio book. For instance, I recently checked out a book by Kurt Vonnegut - A Man Without A Country. The reader seemed to be trying to sound like Kurt Vonnegut. It was so irritating that I couldn't make it through the three disc set. Scott Brick was flawless in his reading of Washington: A Life.

   I didn't know that much about George Washington, other than what we all learn in elementary school. I knew he was the first president, born February 22, 1732, the cherry tree and the truth teller, slave holder, military man and the false teeth. Yet, this book helped put the human side to the father of our country.

   Here's a few Washington factoids:

* Washington never had wooden teeth.

*By age 30, Washington had survived smallpox, malaria, dysentery, and other diseases. He had a strong, physical constitution.

*Washington never fathered any children of his own.

*Washington lost more battles than he won but still ranks as a great general.

*Land rich but cash poor, Washington had to borrow money to attend his inauguration in New York city in 1789.

*His public life took a huge toil on his finances.

*Washington nearly died twice during his first term as president. First from a tumor on his thigh and then from pneumonia.

*Washington is the only president to ever lead an army in battle - the Whiskey Rebellion of 1794.

*Neither George nor Martha Washington liked Thomas Jefferson, even though Jefferson served as Washington's Secretary of State.
 

   They say that hindsight is 20/20. And it's easy for us to sit here in the present and pass judgment on those who have come before us. Slavery was and is wrong. Many of our forefathers wrestled with the whole slavery issue. They weren't ignorant to the morality of it. This includes George Washington. He was a politician, so his views shifted depending on who he was with. He had to re-assure the southern plantation owners who definitely wanted their slaves excluded from liberty. Yet, there were the northern abolitionist who sought liberty for all.

    At the end of George Washington's life, he wrote a will that freed all of his slaves (when his wife, Martha, passed away). Martha did not wait for long before she freed his slaves early. She was worried that George's slaves might be tempted to shorten her life.

   An item in his will that few people are aware of is that he instructed that all his young slaves should be taught to read and write, as well as be taught a trade before they were freed. He also left instructions for the care of his elderly (freed) slaves. He set aside a life time pension for his personal slave - William Lee.

    George Washington sacrificed a great deal for America. His actions before and during his presidency preserved the nation and set a high bar for all future presidents.

     There's an excellent site for Washington's home at Mt Vernon - (mountvernon.org). This site offers an online tour of Mt. Vernon and the surrounding gardens.
    I post this entry today, February 22, 2014 in honor of President George Washington - the Father Of Our Country.

  

   

   

 

GOOD AS GOLD!

      Here is a piece of advice to all my young friends. I am speaking mainly to anyone who reads this post who is just now starting into sixth grade... and if you have a child or grandchild starting sixth grade, please, pass this on to them. Go out and get a pack of 3 by 5 cards. Each day of your school year - and you can include the summer months as well - write down something that happened during the day. You need to write the date on the card, write what you were wearing and who you were hanging out with. Don't make this a chore, just jot down something that happened. Maybe the teacher cancelled the math test, someone slipped on a banana peel,  or your slip fell in the floor (this happened to my baby sister and thank God she was in the girl's bathroom when this wardrobe malfunction occurred - she just stepped out of the offending garment and threw it into the trash can!) My daughter suggested that jotting down daily memories would be a good thing to do at any age and I agree but let's face it, between sixth grade and graduation, most kids are a hormonal mess! So the cards would write themselves! 

     If you are going to school for 180 days during the year - that's 180 stories in a year's time. Now over the course of these 6 grueling years, you'd have over a thousand stories to pick through for an amazing book, play or movie about those wonderful, full of enchantment, days. Trust me, whether it's a book, play or movie, it will be hilarious!

    How do I know? Well, I've just been reading my sister's recently published book - My Adventures with Earl by Margaret J. Hyler. In one of the early chapters, she mentions taking her neighbors to Atlantic Beach in Morehead City, NC. This story triggered a memory of when I went with them to Atlantic Beach. I was between the ages of 12 and 15. My parents had let me come to Yanceyville, N.C. for a visit and that is when I found out that - surprise! - we were going to the beach! The problem was that I did not have a bathing suit and it wouldn't have mattered if they had told me in advance - I never owned a bathing suit during my entire childhood.  (Long story).

    JoAnne insisted that I wear one of her suits. She chose a baby pink, bikini - with ruffles on the top and on the bottom! Big ruffles!  I go from being a modest, mountain girl to Ann Margaret - beach bunny!  JoAnne is 11 years older than me, so as you might expect, her suit was a little too big on me and here's where this post goes a little PG - 13 ... it was that time of month! GAWD!

    To make matters worse, I didn't have the supplies I needed because I didn't know that we were going to the beach. And since my parents didn't have a lot of money to keep 5 girls in "supplies," my grandmother had shown me how to make homemade supplies by folding toilet tissue. There I was, on this beautiful beach, in a bikini that was too big, so getting it wet would have made things worse, not just because the suit would expand but because those tissues would have been bunching or dropping out or worse, STAINING!.  I had to settle for - teenager, on the beach with big ruffles on my butt and big ruffles on the form fitting cups that my flat chest had no chance of filling. Ah, good times!

   My 3 by 5 card would read - Date: 1965 / 1968. Wearing: Over sized, pink, bikini with BIG ruffles. With: JoAnne, brother in law, baby nephew and monthly visitor. Where: Atlantic Beach, NC. 

    Trust me, when you get some years on you, this stuff, even if it never makes it into a book, play or movie will be better than gold.

    

P.S. Here's another little detail that I forgot to add in the above story. I was wearing my underclothes under the bikini bottom.....talk about your shorts in a bunch.... yet, a girl has to have something to pin her "supplies" to.

A Red RUM Winter

     Here we are - winter on the flat lands. A wonderland of frozen delights. The snow moved in after Christmas, giving us 4 or 5 inches of the white stuff. This week, another snow headed down the barrel for us bringing with it the dropping temperatures that winter is known for and the wind chill factor that TV weather forecasters depend on for added hype and growing viewership. The forecasters went into a panicked frenzy. Look at them, broadcasting from the street as they shove wine goblets purchased at the nearby Dollar Store, into a mound of snow to give the TV audience a sense of how deep the snow is on a wine glass. One weather woman, sitting in the comfort of the TV studio, with a really worried look on her face, said "This is a dangerous situation and at times like this we all need to stick together." And I just looked at her like "What?" If you've got a brain in your head, you need to stay inside!" This is not a cum-bi-yi moment. I don't even know what she is talking about. It's winter - a time when Mother Nature is trying her best to kill us! I turned it off. The forecasters are creating more stress and anxiety on people than the passing storm will ever touch. 
   Our household is not immune to this either. My husband, last week, as he was sitting in the easy chair in the living room, mentioned that he was cold and it was in the low twenties outside. "If I am this cold now, I can't imagine how we're going to handle the -14 degrees coming for us next week." This is the same guy who, every night, opens our bedroom window, a little, so we can have "fresh air." And I do mean every night - even that night!
   He has also taken it on himself to be my overseer during this winter entrapment. It is up to him to make sure that I am doing meaningful work while we wait for the thaw. Last night he was telling me about this creativity book that he is currently reading - Creative Confidence. According to this book - undoubtedly written by amazing geniuses, when you critique a work, you should start by saying "I like" then "I wish." So by the transitive theory, Philip should point out the things he likes about my art before he ends with his wish for the changes to my work. If my eyeballs could shoot out lazer beams, Philip would be sporting a really red tan today and I would mentally be in the car heading for NY to find those amazing geniuses to just let them know that when I am creating art, it is not for someone outside my brain to step in to tell me in their "superior knowledge" how I should be changing things. I'm 60 freaking years old! I will be dead soon enough and I am not interested in what Philip or New York City or any body else has to say about what I am doing! When I tell him this in the calmest way possible, he says that I have always been defensive! (Oops, my imaginary lazer beam just burnt a hole in the wall behind his head!) 
    I'm beginning to understand why that weather forecaster, broadcasting from the street, in 12 inches of snow, bought a wine glass from the Dollar Store. She was the real, amazing genius, sending a hidden message for all of us. Bad weather is approaching, are you "really" ready?

Morning on the mountain

A TRIBUTE TO TREES

A Beech tree that grows on our farm.

     The other night, as I was nodding off to sleep, I started thinking about significant trees that I have known in my life. I'm sure everyone has one or two. As the memories wafted through my mind in that smokey way sweet memories often come to us, I saw a huge American Beech tree. It grew on the bank, on the left side of the road, between my parents and Aunt Valorie's house. It's branches were low to the ground, maybe 5 foot up on the tree. I remember the trunk being huge but that is coming from a child's memory. I've always thought that the bark of Beech trees looks like elephant's hide. I thought this of that particular Beech tree too. So we kind of had an elephant to guide us.

     We kids played under the limbs of that tree. The ground was worn bare and packed down from our activities, so we had a lovely playhouse floor. Since the limbs hung low, we could hang things in the tree. I don't remember ever climbing it but I'm sure my brother did. It would have been an easy climb.

    In my pre-teens, the county put a gravel road in to replace the rutted out, logging road that ran the distance of our "hollar". The Beech tree had to go. It was like loosing a beloved, family elder.

      I thought of an old Apple tree that stood in the side yard of my husband and my first home together. We lived in Thorn Hill, Tennessee for thirteen years. The Apple tree had been there much longer than that. It's trunk was at least 2 foot thick and was a bit twisted and gnarled from age. That tree grew the best apples in the world. They were sweet yet a bit tart and just the perfect texture and juicyness. It's really hard to describe the experience of eating those apples. I have hay fever and before the modern development of allergy medicines, the juice from those apples was about the only thing that would give my itchy throat any relief.

     I feel like I need the talent of Mark Twain to write about my trip, about 10 years ago - on the Winter Solstice, to see the Sequoias. My husband and I, along with two of our sons - Barnaby and Ben, decided to travel from Los Angeles up into the high country to see these giant trees. It was such a nice break from the crowds and smells of the city: to journey into the mountains. It was a day full of golden sun. I remember travelling through the San Joaquin valley as we headed north and thinking about tv westerns and songs by the Sons of the Pioneers. Then we came out of the flatlands and headed into the mountains. When we arrived at King's Canyon National Park, I got out of the car and flung myself onto a Sequoia! My family has always called me a tree hugger and here's the proof... me hugging a tree.  These are some of the oldest, largest, living life forms on Earth. As soon as my hands touched this wonderful giant, I was surprised. The bark, even in the winter sun, felt like a warm, cushy, firm, sponge.       As I mentioned before, we arrived on the afternoon of the Winter Solstice, so the day already felt special. As we walked around among these giants, I couldn't help but notice how quiet it was. There were no sounds of cars or industry. Since it was near to Christmas, only a few other tourist were in the park. Occasionally we heard the sound of birds or wind blowing through the trees. The air was cool and fresh.You could smell the wilderness. It's indescribable how utterly spiritual this experience felt. We were truly in God's best cathedral.

     Finally, I return to my childhood and my family home in North Carolina to mention a tree that was a gift to my childhood. It was a Weeping Willow. As I lay in bed thinking about this sweet tree, I began to tear up. The Willow grew in the side yard, near a little stream. It was a huge tree and it cast shade over a large part of the yard. It could be raining and you could stand under that tree and never worry about getting wet. It's long, leafy whips were like ribbons that swayed in the breeze as we played under it's canopy. Then one day, my Dad told us that the tree would have to be cut. It's roots were growing into our septic system. This news just slayed me. As an adult, I understand the rationale of what my Dad had to do but as a child, it was almost unforgivable.

 

Honorable Mention:

*The little Plum tree that grew at my grandparents house. It was located just feet away from a small mountain stream. In the summer we kids could just reach in, pick a plum, then sit in the shade of that tree as we ate those warm, juicy fruits.

 

*The  large Maples and Oaks that grew like Greek columns in my grandparents yard. Shortly after my grandfather died, my grandmother had those trees removed. She was afraid that they would fall on her house. Before they were cut, my grandparents house looked like a huge, southern plantation. After they were cut, their house looked tiny.

 

*A Beech tree that grew in my parents yard. A friend gave my Dad the seedling to start that tree. As it grew, my mother complained that it blocked her view of the road. She liked to sit on the porch or look out the living room window at the view of the valley and those coming and going.  Dad refused to cut it. Then one day, maybe 30 years after it was planted, lightning hit that Beech and cleared out the view.

 

*A Persimmon tree that grew in the "hollar" just back of my parent's house, about 30 foot beyond the pig pen. The persimmons on it were the size of ping pong balls and they dropped at our feet every fall. How wonderful life is....

 

 

 

 

Clarification: In my last post, I mentioned that my sister and I were wearing flip flops to school and that kids could no longer go barefooted to school. I always wore shoes to school. And as far as I know, all my siblings always wore shoes to school. My parents took good care of us and that included having shoes for us to wear. It was the South, we didn't have air conditioning in school, just windows. So flip flops were perfect for keeping cool.

Support Groups

      You may have read my last blog entry about letting go of old thinking and getting clear on what I want in my life. It's often stated that the people who live the longest, are a part of a great, social group. So one night last week, as I fixed dinner, I stopped for a moment to post a statement on facebook - "I need a support group." I got several comments offering support from my fb group before an old friend in Tennessee asked "?"

     It's a good question.  I deleted the post. I decided right then and there - deep, philosophical insight, probably won't be attained on a facebook page...probably.  Besides, my youngest son called to see if I was OK. No need for a little growth to worry my kids.
     As this whole process was unfolding, and especially after the good question from my Tennessee buddy, I stopped dinner preparations long enough to write the following description of the support group that I need - "There's Still Time to Save The World / A Funny Thing Happened on The Way to The Graveyard / I Did Kinda-Wanna Be a Mad Scientist / Mental Fight Club Support Group" on the chalk board in my kitchen. Whatever their name and wherever they meet, I'm there.

 Days passed and the group name remained on the chalk board. Then one night, several days later, I was washing the dishes and I looked at that group name and suddenly found myself breaking it down. "Still Time to Save the World" - First off, it's going to take more than one person to save the world. The truth is that the world is getting better in so many ways, everyday, because people all over the world are working to improve things. Yet, we can all do more to help in our own way. And in an instant I knew that what I want to do is something to help the Earth. I want to plant trees - either in a group or by myself. You'll be hearing more about this later.

 

     How about "A Funny Thing Happened on The Way to The Graveyard" ? As I looked at that, I knew this was speaking more to my memories and my current experiences. It means more writing. Does this mean I join a writer's group? I'm hesitant. I grew up in a family of 9 kids. I have a large extended family. I could start writing right now and never speak to another human being and I'd never get all the stories covered.  For instance, check out this old photo of me and my younger sister (the blond). We had just walked over the mountain from our house and were on the way down Coxes Creek Road to our school bus stop at the Coxes Creek Freewill Baptist Church. We stopped in our Aunt Cairie's yard for some long forgotten reason and she took our photograph. Sis and I are wearing flip flops because kids could no longer come barefooted to school. Hey, it writes itself.

 

Finally, "I Did Kinda-Wanna Be a Mad Scientist /  Mental Fight Club." Why are mad scientist so mad?  Most of the time they're just frustrated by somebody else grabbing the brass ring before them. I'm not feeling that. I'm just not that mad about anything but to keep my gray matter gray, I feel sure I need challenges. I feel sure that my art endeavors can help me there. Do I need a support group? Maybe. I'm not sure. But, in pondering the question, I have decided that I need to take a few more risk in the name of art. So I'll be explaining that in a future blog.