My Tennessee Fall

Fall beautiful Fall

Anyone who knows me knows that I LOVE this time of year....it's my favorite. However, I have never been a fan of Halloween. It is hard for me to understand why anyone would not want to celebrate harvest time and fall instead of goulish things and gore. Sure it is fun to dress up, go door to door and get a big bag of treats BUT why can't we just have harvest parties and dress in costumes without all the negatives of Halloween. Give me big bright orange pumpkins resting on bales of golden hay against dried tanish corn stalks. Give me big bright red apples you can pick from a tree yourself. When I was a little girl my Mom loved this time of year too and she would bake great yummy apple pies and the most delicious acorn squash. She would wash the squash, slice them is half and fill them with just the right amount of butter (real butter), brown sugar, nutmeg, and cinnamon and then pop them in the oven to bake. They would come out soft with a crunchy topping and would melt in your mouth.
AND, leaves........who does not love the golden oaks, flaming red/orange maples and burgandy dogwoods and tulip poplar trees. The thought of fall leaves brings to mind two memories of a time when fall leaves had a special meaning for me and my two youngest sons. First, I had told my youngest sons about how my sister and I and their big brothers would pile leaves high each fall and then we'd run and jump in the pile. They could not wait for the leaves to fall so they too could make a pile and jump in them .....BUT for some reason that year the leaves blew into the woods and on to the property next door and we did not even have enough to make a tiny mound let alone a big pile. They were so disappointed. One day I looked out the window and saw the boys who lived next door raking mounds and mounds of leaves in their yard, so I sneaked out and offered them five dollars each to bag four bags of leaves and dump them in a big pile in our front yard. My two youngest sons jumped over and over into the leaves and had a wonderful time. Then the second memory........one fall when we were living in a condo in Florida I was really missing my Tennessee fall. My husband called to told me how beautiful the leaves were in his father's yard. We had our condo for sale and had an offer. My husband had accepted a job in TN and had moved on before us. When he told me about the beautiful leaves in his father's yard, I cried. That weekend when he came for his bi-monthly visit he came to the door with a huge black garbage bag.....it was full of leaves from his Dad's yard. He brought six bags full and dumped them on our screened porch. It was so beautiful and so much fun. AND, it was really fun to watch guests and residence pass our porch on their way to the pool and do a double take when they would see the leaves wall to wall on the porch.
Ahhhhh yes, wonderful, beautiful fall........come on....hurry....I am waiting.

Fall is on the way.

Today I sit here....still healing.......and see from my window tiny hints that fall is on it's way. A breeze blows through the trees and as the leaves rustle a few early yellow leaves let go of the branch that has given them life for a year and swirl to the ground. Fall is my favorite time of year. This time of year the tempatures are "just right", the leaves start to turn shades of golden yellow, dark burgandy and firey red orange. Although it does not last long, the world is bright, beautiful and more peaceful. And, the TN Volunteers run onto the field once again bringing chills and thrills to TN folk like me. Festivals and county fairs are held every weekend. Pumplins, apples, cider, corn stalks tied in bundles, hay bales here and there are signs that fall is near. I LOVE IT! I open the door and take a deep breath, my heart races at the thought of what is to come......fall.

"IT'S A BOY!"

Forty nine years ago today I was very pregnant and had just made the long drive to Rockford, IL to start a new life. Like many others in 1960, my husband had lost his job and had heard from friends that relatives of theirs had found work in the north in Rockford....so, on September 1st of 1960, we packed a few items, said goodbye to our families and hit the road. My eyes were red and swollen from all the tears I had shed the night before after saying goodbye to my Mom, Dad and younger sister. Other than a little time in college it was the first time I would be living that far away from them. Sept. 2nd we had settled into a tiny little motel room. Bright and early the morning of Sept. 2nd, my husband called to set up a meeting with the family members of the TN friends to discuss the work situation. Because I had promised my Mother I would see an OBGYN as soon as possible, my husband ask the people if they could recommend a Dr. and they did better than that.....the wife called her Dr. and, miracles of miracles, the office told her that they had just had a patient cancel and to have me come in at two that afternoon. The Dr. was in his late sixties and was very kind and soft spoken which was a blessing to a scared young southern girl like me who was in a strange new place. After a complete examination, he told me that I should deliver in about six weeks, gave me some vitamins and phamplets and sent me on my way. I was to see him again in a week. On the way back to the motel, we stopped at a little diner and there I had my very first pizza. After dinner, my husband dropped me off to rest while he went to visit the TN friends to discuss work. I sprawled across the bed and started reading the phamplets I had been given. I started having little pains in my lower stomach and thought it was probably this new food, pizza, I had eaten. An hour later the pain had not stopped but had grown worse. Three hours later I was so terrified I decided to call my husband, however, he had not given me a phone number and all I knew was the last name of the people he was visiting. I took out the phone book and started calling everyone with that last name. Another miracle..........the fifth name I called was the place he was visiting. They all thought I was just having false labor and told me to lie down and rest some more and try to calm down. A pregnant woman realizing that her water had broken is pretty sure it is NOT false labor. I called the number on the card the nurse had given me and she told me to come straight to St. Anthony's hospital......which we soon did. Now, remember, I was a young southern gal from a small town in TN who had never personally known anyone who was Catholic let alone a Nun or Priest. When I checked into the hospital I realized that the nurses were Nuns....the habits were a pretty good clue. In those days, nobody was allowed to be with a woman in labor.....you were all alone. I remember the Nuns coming in from time to time shaking my arm and even giving me a little slap or two and telling me to be quiet because my screams were scaring the other women in labor. I remember thinking, "I thought Nuns were susposed to be kind". These were not. After many hours I heard a baby cry, felt a mask over my face and was put to sleep. I woke later to find myself in a room with curtains drawn. I called out for someone and a Nun came in and explained that because my baby was early and so tiny (five lbs.) he would have to spend a few days in an incubator, but, she took me down to the nursery to see my new baby boy. There in a glass box I saw a precious tiny baby.....my baby. I wanted to hold him so badly but I could not. It was not until days later that I got to hold him for the first time. I will never forget when the Nun placed him in my arms and told me not to touch his head because due to the fact that he was early the bones had not yet come together. I was trembling. He was so tiny but yet had such a determined look on his face and his little hands were clinched into two tiny fists as if to say, "Come on world, I'm ready for you." I thought I had know what it was like to love someone, but, the love I felt for this tiny baby boy was beyond anything I had ever felt. He had golden yellow hair that stuck out all over his tiny head and the nurses nicknamed him, "Ducky" because they said his head looked like a little duckling. For the next two years of my life, until his younger brother came, he and I spent almost every minute together.......talking, playing and enjoying each other. If you look up to the left on this page under the title of "followers" you will see a set of big eyes.......those big eyes belong to my little "Ducky" LOL who is now a very talented man living in Chicago, IL. It is hard to get a serious picture of him because he is always making funny faces......but, making people laugh and feel better is one of the things he does best. What a ride we have had.....ups and downs......and although I know he is a grown man, when I look into his face I still see a glimpse of that little boy I used to know....my fitst born......... "Ducky". LOL.

Animals are family members too!

Fourteen years ago when we were living in Athens, TN our two sons Tim and Todd were in the process of some changes in their lives and had moved in with us for a while. During that period I had to have surgery so it was helpful to have the guys there. In his spare time, Tim, was doing some carving in the garage. He is an excellent carver and makes beautiful items. Just outside the garage and off our driveway was a wooded lot. One day while Tim was sitting and carving, he heard and saw a young female cat who was aparently living in the woods. I told him she was wild and that he should just leave her alone BUT if you have ever read anything I have written about Tim you know he loves cats with all of his heart. The cat was dirty, skinny, scared to death of people and as I said before basically wild. Every day Tim would put out food for her, talk to her and slowly she came closer and closer. The wild cat befriended him but in a distant way......she was still unable to trust humans. I believe that there are some people who are blessed with the gift of befriending and loving animals in a special way and Tim is one of those people. Before long he was ready to move on to FL to persue a relationship with his present wife, Betsy.....who by the way tolerates his love for cats, allows him to adopt one after another of them and loves them herself. When Tim was getting ready to leave our home he told me he was going to take this wild cat with him and I told my husband, "He'll never be able to get her in the carrier and even if he does she will go crazy." However, he did get the cat in the carrier and off to FL they went. Tim and Betsy patiently cared for her, gave her a loving home and eventually she became a tame, loving pet who was able to trust humans. He named her Sensi. When they moved up to TN they brought her with them. When I saw her I could hardly believe it was the same cat. She was beautiful, healthy and so calm and tame. She was a member of the family for 14 years.....I even sent her and her siblings presents at Christmas. Today, sadly, we lost her. The relationship between Tim and Sensi is a lesson in patience and love. Goodbye beautiful girl.....thank you for being a part of our family and making Tim and Betsy so happy. I know that with every cat Tim loves and has to give up, a little piece of his heart goes with them. Thinking of you, Tim.

SEASONS IN TENNESSEE (Read article under photos..."What did he say?")

What did he say????? or"Locally speaking"

I love Tennessee. I was born and raised here. When I first married forty years ago we moved to Atlanta, Ga. where a deep southern accent was the norm...... words are pronounced slow, long and are sweetly but exactly spoken. It is different than the TN southern accent. With the TN accent words are spoken more lazily, nasal and often with a muttered, samely tone.
In the mid eighties we moved to St. Augustine, FL and lived there for fifteen years. St. Augustine is made up of people from all over the country and the world....it is very hard to find people who were actually born and raised there. Therefore, there is a variety of accents that blend and become a sort of mixture of East and West coast over time.....people there also comes with a variety of temperments and attitudes. We found people there to be more hurried...... less patient and less courteous than the TN folks we had lived with most of our lives. Folks in TN are, for the most part, easy going, counteous, thoughtful, and helpful. AND, many of the locals speak a language all their own. When we first moved back five years ago, I found myself asking my husband, "What did he say?"because I had forgotten the local language. I do know that it is true that other areas of the country also have their own way of speaking. For instance..........while living in FL some of our neighbors were from Boston and if I had a nickle for everytime I heard, "I'm gonna pok the caa" for "park the car", we could retire tomorrow LOL. And, while in NYC I have actually heard, "How ya dooin?"with that deep, quick voice more than once. When we travel the Nebraska route to get out west we hear,"you bet ya"at every stop. AND, in Maine they actually do say,"yah" for yes.
I am now in therapy for a back problem and my therapist is from the Phillipines. She has a great grasp of the English language and speaks very good English, however, she does not understand local terms. The other day after she ask me what I wanted to do when my husband retired, I answered, " I'd like to get in my RV and have one last "Hurrah"....to which she frowned and said, what is this, "Hurrah" ? She had no idea what I meant. She shared with me that she did not understand why TN people say, "I reckon" or "over yonder". LOL.
Sometimes when I hear locals speak I wonder if anyone was listening in English class. I can take the accent, heck, I have one....I can even take the twang but some of my pet peeves are:
Saying "chim- bu-lee" for chimney. Saying "lie-berry" instead of library. OR....."I brung it" instead of I brought it. OR...."them trees" instead of those trees. OR...."he come over here" instead of he came over here. And, who in TN has not heard the word, "Youins" for you or you people. Don't expect most locals to be able to pronounce the word insurance or nuclear.....you'll get, "in-chur-ns" and "nu-ca-lur". Don't get me wrong, I am not making fun of these good people because I am one of them, but, I wonder why they just keep misusing the English language generation after generation. It is possible that something I read years ago might help explain it.......I read that the mountains of eastern TN were mostly settled by Irish and Scottish imagrants and that some of the mountian verbage can be traced back to the Irish and Scottish languages. WHO KNOWS! I just find it all interesting and it has been brought to my attention lately by listening to the people around me on the ETHRA bus on the way to therapy.
"Y'all take cere now".

WORDS

The most powerful thing on earth might just be a single WORD. To someone who needs incouragement the right word can lift a spirit. An angry or hurtful word can crush a spirit. You have heard the statement: "Sticks and stones can break my bones but words can never hurt me".....well, the person who wrote that has never been the receipant of hurful words. The words we use should be careful selected....BUT.....we usually, quickly and with little thought, spew them as freely as breathing in air....they just pop out of our mouths like kernals of corn in a popcorn popper over heat.
Words (and the acceptance of them) have vastly changed over the years. Years ago filthy words were rarely used by "run of the mill, normal folk"because people cared how the world perceived them and filthy words usually meant a person with little morals or one who often lived a rough and rowdy lifestyle. BUT today too many of our youngsters and young adults finds the "F" word perfectly acceptable and they use it so freely you'd think they were void of the knowledge that there are adjetives, adverbs and verbs to fit every occasion. They are not even aware that the "F" word is not an adjetive. They are not aware that it makes them sound cheap and low life. They don't even care. They think it makes them "fit in" or modern or cool ....and that is the tradegy of it all. AND have you noticed how many misspelllled words there are here in this blog LOL. See, we just don't pay much attontion these days to words.....and that is a shame because the words we use so often define us. Have you ever been listening to someone talk ..... you stand there enjoying the conversation thinking what a nice person they are AND THEN they come out with a less than acceptable word.....and, by just the use of that word, your whole impression of them changes. I just hope that I live long enough to see the "F" word fade away like mini skirts and leisure suits. My children have said to me before..."Mom, it's just a word" and I say,"Yes, it is JUST A WORD" but we should stop and think about the power...good or bad....of that single word, Okay?

What kind of world do we live in..........

This evening as we were getting ready for dinner the television was on in the background and from it I heard this: "Today Cindy Crawford admited to reports that she has cellulite". This just stopped me in my tracks and I thought...people are starving, suffering, captive, and dealing with problems like how to feed their children another day and THIS is what we hear on the news! I got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. What have we come to as a nation. Why do we put up with such......we have power as "the people". We could write to members of the press, the major televisions stations.....we could do something, couldn't we? BUT do we? NO, we just do what I did.....nod our heads in discust and continue on with our day. Could we change things if we tried harder? Shouldn't we try to do something? I know we do not need to hear only gloom and doom from the press but some of the things we hear like the above news that started me writing this is just plain stupid.

Two pcs of my handmade jewelry...interested? contact me

COMPLAINTS

So often we complain at the least little thing......a nail breaking, not enough money, gained wt., a bad hair day, etc., etc., etc. Some of you know that several weeks ago I found out that I have three bulging discs, spine damage, an inflamed sciatic nerve and a few more little problems. Just this week I started riding the ETHRA bus service which is available to the general public but is most often used by people on Tenncare or welfare, people who have serious body traumas and can not drive or the elderly who have nobody in their lives. If you think you have something to complain about......call ETHRA and take a ride on one of their buses. Until you have reached into your designer handbag to pull out your $12. cash to pay for your ride and see after you a woman dressed in rags pull her welfare card from an old brown paper bag.......until you sit rubbing you slightly sore leg thinking you are in pain and turn to see the driver loading a younger man who is missing a leg.....until you have felt sorry for yourself for having to get up, get dressed and ride a bus to therapy three days a week and then ride with several people of all ages who have to go five days a week for three hours or more to have dialysis..........until you have felt sorry for yourself for being lonely (even though you have family who call you and e mail you every day) and then you find yourself sitting beside a truly lonely old lady who has nobody...NOBODY in her life and has such a sad little wrinkled face..........until you have experienced that, you won't realize that you have NOTHING to complain about at all and you will thank GOD that you are so blessed. It can ALWAYS be worse, I tell you.

Poor little ignored blog!! I have had a few tough days of pain and just have not felt like even thinking of posting so please forgive....will try to do better in a day or so. Have a good one.

The day "Frog Walker" encountered the Devil or "Old Scratch"

I was reminded by a friend yesterday that I had promised to share more stories from my Mom. She told me and my sister this story probably a dozen times or more over our lifetime. She told it to us as young children while lying on quilts under the stars, sitting in the swing in the moonlight, on picnics in the mts. as grade schoolers and as teenagers lying across the bed while Rock and Roll was playing in the background. This was what she told us about the day she had her encounter with, "Old Scratch".

When I was a little girl all the families in our community were middle to lower class. We were all just plain folk...in other words, we were poor but we didn't not know it then. Most of the toys we played with were homemade...homemade dolls and wooden toys our parents or Grandparents made for us. The summer I was eight, everyday I would hurry to get my chores done so I could go outside and play. All of the kids who lived up and down the road (and it was an old dirt road and not a street) would gather either in somebody's yard or in the road to play. It was safe to play in the road because most everybody walked everywhere. It was rare to see a horse and wagon and even more rare to see an automobile. We played "Red Rover Come Over", "Button, Button Who's Got the Button,""Hide and Seek" and every once in a while someone would bring a new toy to share. When we played in the road we had to be very careful not to even step one foot onto one of our neighbor's property. His name was, Mr. True, and he hated children. Some of the children called him, The Devil, but I knew he wasn't the devil because Momma read us the Bible and I knew that the Devil lived down in hell with all his demon bugger men. Most folks called Mr. True, "Old Scratch", which my Momma told me was another name for the Devil.
This particular day one of the younger boys named, "Buddy Tipton", had just had a birthday and he brought out a new red rubber ball. We were all in awe of it because none of us had ever had a store bought beautiful red rubber ball before. Someone suggested that we play dodge ball or keep away and boy, were we having a grand old time when one of the older boys through the ball too hard. Up in the air it went and down it landed in the yard of "Old Scratch". We watched it as it rolled across the yard and under the old wooden front steps of his house. Gasps came from the kids as they stood paralized. "Noooooo" and "That ball is a gonner" was heard from the bunch. Buddy started to cry. I looked at the ball laying there under the steps and then I looked at the kids standing there with their sad faces. It just made me so mad that I said, "I'll get the ball".
"Noooo, Troy, you'll be killed" one of the children said. Another begged me to let it go but, you see, never before had we been able to play with such a nice, new toy and I was determined "Old Scratch" would not keep us from the fun we had been having. I put one foot in front of the other and started toward the yard. As I walked closer and closer to the forbidden property, the kids gravitated together until they were huddled up like a football team. Buddy was sobbing louder and louder. The more he cried the madder I got and the more courage I mustered up. I made it onto the yard, then on over to the steps and there under the steps I saw the red ball. I bent down and just as I reached for the ball and took it into my hand, I heard the squeek of the devil's screen door followed by footsteps on the old wood porch. Chills ran down my spine. I eased the ball out and stood up. There on the top step stood "Old Scratch".
"What you think you're doin' girl? You know I don't allow no children up in here. I said, What you doin' on my property?"
I looked into his wrinkled old mean face with fuzzy eyebrows hanging over his evil eyes and started to turn and run. But, the thought that he kept us all so scared all the time made me so mad that I spoke up and said," I'm just gettin' our ball. It rolled over here by accident and I ain't hurtin' nothing."
He stepped down the three wooden steps and hoovered right over me.
"Girl, you see these hands?" he held up his big old dirty hands right in my face.
"I kill kids with my bare hands and burry 'em right under my fingernails"
I don't know what came over me but I looked at his hands and then at his nails and answered,"Well Sir, the dirt sure looks like it's deep enough for a burrin' "...then I ran like a cat with it's tail on fire. He swung his fists in the air and growled.
Momma had been out on our front porch and she had seen that something was going on down the road so she walked down the road to check on me. When Mr. True saw her he yelled,"You'll never raise that one...not with that smart mouth. You hear me, you'll never raise her to be growed up."
Momma got me by the ear and led me home but from that day on all the kids in the neighborhood talked about how brave I was to take on "Old Scratch".
Later that year on my way to school , I'd see him in his porch rocker and I'd throw up my hand or nod to speak. Most of the time he acted like he didn't see me. Then one day he actually waved back and later even gave me a little grin out the side of his mouth. I knew that he could not be all bad 'cause Momma told me that there was good in everybody and that maybe he just didn't get enough lovin' when he was growing up.

Felt like sharing some of my photos of rustic barnwood and antique log structures from all across the country

Sure sign of the south

Magnolia blossoms, sweet iced tea and someone saying, "Y'all. Things I miss when I am away.

“Turquoise Teardrops”
My paternal Great Grandmother was
Cherokee. As I grew up, I learned much
about my Cherokee heritage. Several years
ago while on one of our trips out west, my
husband took me to the place in Oklahoma
where the terrible “Trail of Tears” ended. My
heart ached when I read accounts of that
march from the hills of North Carolina to
Oklahoma. My Great Grandmother’s family
was blessed to have escape that fate. This piece
is dedicated to all those who did not.
To make this piece, I attached four
turquoise Jasper tear drops with handmade
wire attachments to a strand of turquoise
chips, glass and small sterling silver beads.
It is finished with a silver metal toggle clasp
and measures approx 21”.
With no prior knowledge of this fact before
purchasing my log cabin, I found out that my
cabin is built on ancient Cherokee land.

Some handmade items in my home...read "I Wonder" below photos.

doll from Foothill Privitives

needlework by Foothill Primitives

I WONDER...

As I sat this morning stringing tiny little semi-precious stone chips onto a beading wire I wondered if people in this country really value handmade as much as they used to. Sure, if we outsource labor to other countries the costs are cut for both the producers of products and the purchaser BUT I wonder what we are doing to the labor force in our country. I wonder what we are loosing. Don't get me wrong, I know in this day and time it is important to import and export goods as we have done since the beginning of this country, however, I wonder if we have not gone too far. We live in a throw away society...buy it cheap, use it until it breaks or a different version is introduced and go buy another one. Gone are the days of purchasing an item and keeping it for a lifetime. My parents had one stove, one toaster, one of almost everything my entire lifetime AND it was well made and worked effectively. When the toaster went on the fritz...we took it to the repair man, paid him a small fee and used it again. I know we have come a long way from "Mayberry" and I don't want us to go back, but, can't we acheive a better balance? As I said before, today we just toss out an item when it breaks and purchase another. I don't mean to sound old fashion, it's just that I remember going to buy furniture and being able to purchase solid wood instead of today's ever popular saw dust and glue. AND, I am not talking about going back to the 1800's...there are plenty of artisans and crafters who specialize in modern goods...glass and chrome etc. lol. I'm not saying that we should all milk our own cows and churn our own butter. I just wonder if we ever stop to think about who makes the products we use and how they are made. I would like to see us as a country at least appreciate the work of our last artisans and crafters. I would like to see us bring back to our country some of the work that is now oursourced...would that not help this economy? See, I remember the day there was a local dressmaker who made and sold clothing in her community. I remember the day when a man worked for months with his own two hands to make a fine piece of furniture. I remember the day when a person could go up to Gatlinbury and Pigeon Forge and walk down crafters row where people made handmade baskets, brooms and leather goods. I remember watching local artist paint and sell works of art on the streets of old St. Augustine, FL. I remember watching Native Americans out west weave rugs and make beautiful jewelry to sell. We took a trip to Cherokee, NC a few months ago and when we looked at the goods for sale almost all of them were made in another country and not by the locals. We also went to Williamsbury weeks ago and saw the same thing...made in China stamped on articles that were made by local crafters just a few short years ago. We are loosing all that folks. I ask that you wonder too and the next time you have to make a purchase, I ask you to take the time to look around your local area or on line and see what is available from an artisan or crafter. THINK HANDMADE and help this country regain some of the uniqueness of the past that made us what we were.

My Mom as a young adult.

"The Devil Made Her Do It"

The last story on my blog was of how my Mother got the nickname, "Frog Walker." As I have told you before, the first memory I have of her was the two of us sitting in the old squeeky front porch swing laughing, swinging and best of all listening to her tell me the stories of her past. And, what a past she had. When I was a Freshman in high school I missed my Mother one evening and went to look for her. I found her sitting in that old swing crying. I sat down beside her, put my arm around her and said, "Oh, Momma, don't cry. I can't stand it when you cry because you are the best person in the entire world." She laughed, wiped her eyes and said, "Honey, you don't know me very well. We all have a little mean streak in us. I'm no different than anybody else. Sometimes the devil just gets the best of all of us."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
She started laughing and laughed until again she was crying.
"I was just thinking of something I did when I was about eight years old."
"What, Momma, what did you do?"
She told me this story:

Back when I was a young girl people didn't travel like they do these days. Most folks, especially in the country, still traveled by horse and wagon or buggy. And, folks didn't travel very much in the winter months. Summer, summer was the time people visited each other. Most of the time my Momma and Papa were the ones everyone came to visit because we didn't have a car or a horse and wagon so unless we borrowed my Grandpa Walker's horse, we stayed home and everybody came to our house. Momma was a good cook, always had a big garden and loved most people who came so it was a joy for her, however, there was one relative she did not like at all and dreaded his visits with a passion. That was my Papa's first cousin, Luther Walker. He always drove a big new, shinny car and everywhere he went he brought along his three precious blue tick hounds. He thought more of those hounds than he did most people. He bragged on how beautiful they were, how they were the best huntin' dogs in six counties and how smart they were.
Late one summer evening in July, here he came driving his big car with the three old hound dogs hanging out of the back windows. Momma didn't know I knew, but, I had overheard her and Papa once talking about the fact that one of the reasons she had such a distaste for Luther was the fact that he had made his money running moonshine in Knox and the surrounding counties. Now Momma would put up with a lot of things from the relatives but "booze" in her house was simply not allowed. A little blackberry wine was not considered as sinful as what Luther drank and made it's way to the table occasionally. It really got under her skin that when he came for a visit, Luther always carried a bottle of "white lightening" in his back pocket which he covered with a big silk handkerchief.
"He thinks he's foolin' us and that makes me mad as a wet hen. He is not foolin' nobody." She told my Papa.
After he had settled in and put his dogs in the pen out behind the house, Momma served a dinner fit for royalty and we all went to bed.
Besides drinking, Momma did not allow animals in her house either. The house was very small and she could not abide by the smell and mess they made.
Having to put his dogs out back just rubbed Luther the wrong way and so everytime he came for a visit, he made trip after trip out back to check on the critters and, if the truth be known, to also have a drink.
Long after everyone had gone to sleep, I had to go to the outhouse so I quietly eased off the sofa, where I had to sleep when we had overnight company, and tiptoed to the outhouse. I had just finished my business when, by the light of the moon, I saw Luther through a crack in the outhouse door. He had come out to check on his dogs. It was just about then that old mean devilish streak caused me to do what I did next. I eased out of the outhouse and hid over behind the woodpile which was just behind the dog pen. I knew he always talked to his dogs like they were human and could answer him back, so I waited.
"Howdy there, old girl,"he said to his favorite dog as he took the bottle from his back pocket and took a big swig. "How you doin' tonight you beauty you."
"I'm doin' fine." I said in my lowest voice.
Luther, tilted his head, looked at the dog and said,"I said, how you doin' old gal." To which I answered,"I'm fine I told ya."
Luther took a step back and said, "YOU G D DOG ARE YOU TALKIN' TO ME?"
"Sure am!", I replied.
Luther turned and started to run into the house, then he stopped, put the bottle of "white lightning" on my Papa's chopping block and ran on into the house.
The next morning I was setting the table for breakfast when Luther came out of the bedroom bags in hand.
"Leavin' so soon?" Papa asked.
"I didn't sleep a wink last night. I had me a terrible experience. One that has made me think I need to stop my drinkin'. Bruce, I swear one of them dogs actually talked to me last night. I swear it!"
I turned away and giggled quietly to myself, but, when I looked up there stood Momma.
She leaned over and whispered in my ear, "It was you, wasn't it?"
I smiled and nodded my head. Momma shock her head and turned to the stove to finish cooking breakfast. I could see her body shaking... 'cause she was laughing too.


Mom laughed. I laughed and we went to bed happy. She had forgotten all about what had made her cry earlier.

The little face on the left is the face of "Frog Walker"who found out what she was made of the first week of first grade.

Today A friend and I were discussing the subject of "self-image" and "self-esteem"...what influences it, where does it comes from etc. etc. I could not help remembering a story my mother, Troy Walker Little, told me about something that happened to her just before she started to school.

She had talked about school for months to anyone who would listen and was so excited to be going to school. When she was only five years old, she played school, studied her alphabet, and learned to write her name. She was to start first grade in September of 1918. In July her mother, Katie Walker, noticed that she was not her usual playful self. For several days she was sluggish, had no appetite, and had started running a slight fever. When Katie could not get her fever down by using her "tried and true" home remedies, she ask her husband, Bruce, to go for the Doctor. They lived in the country between Sevier and Knox counties where there was one old country Doctor to service the needs of miles of folks. After observing and caring for her for two days, he called Katie and Bruce out of her room..."Folks, it is not good news. She has Scarlet Fever." Katie gasped and Bruce hit the door facing with his fist. He was a hot-headed Scottsman.
Day after day they stood watch, taking turns bathing her body with cool water from the spring out back but still she showed no improvement. Finally, the Doctor called them aside and gave them news they never imagined they would hear about their precious and precocious little girl. The Doctor said, "I don't expect her to make it through the night."
Bruce went over to her bed, knelt beside it and stroked her little wet head, " Hey little Darlin' is there anything you want? Anything, anything at all because I'll get it for you."
To his surprise she opened her sad, tired eyes and in a weak, soft voice she answered, "Ice cream, please." Store bought ice cream was a rare treat back in the late 1900's especially to country folk.
"Ice cream! Well, alright then." Bruce jumped up, grabbed his hat and started for the door.
"You can't give dairy to someone with a fever," the Doctor scolded. It's crazy. She'll just throw it up."
Bruce shook his finger in the Doctor's face. "If my baby is gonna leave this world tonight and she wants ice cream, then ice cream she's gonna get and THAT IS THAT!"
The Doctor shook his head as Bruce scurried out the door.
"Don't worry Doc, as hot as "hit" is out there "hit'll" melt before he gets back with it." Katie always had a calmness about her and was usually the voice of reason in the Walker house.
About forty minutes later the old screen door squeaked letting them know that Bruce was back. He was holding a package wrapped in layers and layers of news paper. He took from it the carton of ice cream and started feeding it to little Troy. She ate and ate and then fell asleep. The three adults took a chair beside her bed to stand watch and probably to say goodbye... but one by one they fell asleep.
When the first light of day came streaking through the window, a voice said, "Papa! Papa I'm thirsty." The three adults sprang to their feet. Katie shouted, " Thank the good Lord!"
"That ice cream must have broke her fever," the Doctor exclaimed.
Bruce ran out onto the front porch where several family members and neighbors had been holding a prayer vigil all night. "She's alive", he threw up his hands and said, " And, she's thirsty. Somebody go down to the spring and bring my little girl a cold drink of water."
By the end of the month the Scarlet Fever had taken it's tole and Troy lost all her hair.
"It'll grow back before school, won't it Momma?" Katie knew that it would not but kept smiling and hoping for a miracle. However, the week before the first day of school she realized that she would have to provide the miracle if there was to be one.
While Troy was trying to go to sleep before the "big day" she kept hearing a clicking sound from the living room. She was such a curious child, she just had to slip out of bed and peep through the door into the living room to see what was making the noise. She saw her mother working away with her knitting needles. "What 'ya doin', Momma?"
"You are suppose to be asleep. Now scoot little girl."
When Troy woke the next morning, she sat up in bed and rubbed her big brown eyes. She noticed that there was something hanging on her bed post. On closer inspection, she realized that it was a little knit cap just her size. Katie had worked way into the night to make it for her. All she had on hand was green yarn so Troy got a green cap...like it or not.
On her way to school several of the other children started laughing at her cap and asking why she was wearing a knit cap in the heat of summer. One of the boys yelled, "You look like a toad frog." All the children laughed. She just ignored them and walked on.
After she had taken her seat in the classroom (which was right up front), the teacher explained that if anyone had to go to the outhouse they were to write their name (if they could) on the black board, excuse themselves and then erase it when they returned. It was almost like an invitation because one after the other the students filed up, wrote their names and went to the outhouse. Finally, Troy had to answer the call of nature so she proudly wrote her name, "T r o y" and went outside. When she returned she noticed that almost all of the class was giggling quietly and looking at her. She checked her skirt, then straightened her little green cap and turned toward the board to erase her name. There on the board someone (probably one of the boys who was teasing her on the way to school) had placed a bar in the middle of the "T" changing it to an "F" and had enclosed the "y" making it a "g". "Frog". She felt tears well up in her eyes but wipped her eyes, erased the board and sat down.
On the way home all the children, with the exception of her best friend, Mike, taunted her calling her"Frog Walker". They teased, laughed and pointed. One even ask her if she ate flies.
The next three days were just the same. More teasing and everytime she went out someone changed her name on the board.
She was overcome with shame and sadness and ran all the way home from school.
"I'm not goin' back. Never, ever!"she told Katie.
When she explained to Katie what had happend for the last three days, Katie took her tiny face in her hands and said, "Now listen to me, child, don't you let anybody tell you who you are. You are Troy Walker, one of the smartest and sweetiest little girls around. Don't you let them or anybody else make you feel bad about you, you hear me? You jest hold up your head high and go right on."
Katie wipped Troy's tears.
The next morning it was the same old thing. She tried to ignore them. She tossed her green capped head high in the air and walked as fast as she could to escape them. She tried with all her might to hold her water but after a while she had to go to the outhouse. She walked up, wrote her name on the board and could hear the giggles already. She lowered her head and started to walk away. And then, she heard her mother's voice as clear as if she was standing right there,"Don't you let anyone tell you who you are. You are Troy Walker. Hold your head high." Suddenly, she had a wicked, wonderful thought. She walked back to the board, made a bar in the middle of the T and enclosed the y. "Frog", she wrote. She giggled and left. When she returned nobody even noticed. She had robbed them of their joyful, evil tricks. She had won!!

I told my friend that I wish I had more of the spirit of "Frog Walker" in me. Don't we all?

When you have words flying around in your head 24-7 and you are able to put them together, mix them with a little bit of your heart and soul and then put them on paper...it is a joyful thing.

It has been a pleasure!!!

From my photo card collection:

He was a star in more ways than one!

Tribute to a football star

If you showed a picture of Peyton Manning to most people in this country and ask them if they know who he is, they would probably be able to tell you because he is a great football quarterback. Most certainly people in East Tennessee could tell you who he is. However, if you showed them the picture above and ask them who it is, you might hear, "Don't know, never saw him before." That is, unless you ask people who grew up in Eastern TN in the fifties and sixties. They would tell you, "Oh yes, that is "Cotton" Letner. He was a great football player."
I entered highschool in 1956 and because I had been a cheerleader in Jr. high and enjoyed it, I decided to try out for high school cheerleader. I did and I made it. Not only did I enjoy cheerleading but my father was a volunteer trainer for the high school football team and I thought it might give us something in common. We had little in common. One day I was rushing through the halls, dodging upper classmen to get to cheerleading practice and I heard a voice say,"Here comes that cute little "Little" girl"(my maiden name was Little). First, I could not believe that anyone would think I was cute and secondly, when I turned around and saw that it was, "Cotton" Letner, a star football and basketball player, I turned as red as the blouse I was wearing. That was the beginning. From that day on, on the football field, the bus rides to games or on campus, he teased me, talked to me and befriended me. He found out that I liked Debbie Reynolds and Eddie Fisher so he started calling me, "Debbie" and told me to call him ,"Eddie" (his steady girlfriend didn't mind...I was like a little sister). I really think he could tell how insecure and intimidated I was by my peers especially upper classmen.
He was born, Robert Letner but everybody called him, "Cotton". We grew up in the same county in Eastern TN where we all had the necessities of life but not a lot of stuff and things. He stood tall, was muscular, had naturally curly sandy blonde hair and the most adorable dimples ever which were accented when he smiled. He was probably the best football and basketball player (football for sure) to ever play for Meigs County High School in Decatur, TN. After high school, he went on to play for the mighty Volunteers at the University of TN on a scholarship.
In the fall of 1959 I entered the University of Tennessee. I was well aware, as were most folks in East TN, that he was a UT football star and thought that he probably would not give me the time of day...after all, I was just a lowly Freshman and he was a Jr AND a big football star. The first week of school I was walking into the Student Center and I heard a voice, "Debbie", over here, it's me, "Eddie"." When I turned, there he stood smiling from ear to ear, books in hand, talking to some of his fellow football buddies. He called me over, introduced me, then put his arm around my shoulder and said, "Now, if you need anything you let me know and tell "The Preacher"(my Dad) that I'm gonna take care of ya." I walked away...all 5'2" 90lbs of me feeling 6 ft. tall. That was "Cotton"..that was how he was.
I have not seen him since college but he is the kind of guy you never forget. Yesterday, just a day after the class of '59 celebrated a 50th reunion, a fellow classmate sent me an e mail that read:
"Got word that Cotton Letner died today." I sobbed like a baby. He will be missed! Thank you "Cotton" for all the excitiing games but most of all Thanks for being a good friend!

My Senior Picture

Precious Memories

Today I have been humming the old hymn, "Precious Memories", all day and I am sure I know why. Yesterday, May 16, I attended my 50th high school reunion. Some of the verses to the song are:
Precious memories how they linger
How they ever flood my soul.
Precious father, loving mother
Fly across the lonely years
And old home scenes of my childhood
In fond memory appears.
As I travel on life's pathway
Know not what the years may hold
As I ponder, hope grows fonder.
Precious memories flood my soul.

I walked into the room where the reunion was being held. I was nervous and unsure of myself. For weeks, everytime I passed a mirror and saw that old gal...overweight, gray on top, and wrinkled, I would say, "I am not going". Thank goodness I decided to put those thoughts and my fears aside and go. I looked around the room and one after another I saw the faces of my classmates. I began to tremble. Never did I guess that I would be affected like I was. My heart started racing and I was overwhelmed. I don't know what made me do it, but, I just started hugging everyone I saw. With one look into their eyes and few words exchanged, I was 17 again. I thought to myself, "I don't usually hug anyone but family." And, then it occured to me...this is my family. We shared four important, life changing years together. We laughed together, we cried together, we learned together, we grew together and, after all, isnt that what a family does. They were like cousins I had not seen in a very long time. Some of the guys looked absolutely shocked when I grabbed them and hugged them because in high school that would not have happened. Back then, some people thought I was distant and others called me, "Stuck up" but nothing could have been further from the truth...I was just simply shy and very very insecure. We don't realize it when we are young and going through it, but, through those years, we really grow to love our classmates. Yes, I love these people...even the ones I thought hated me and a few who were mean to me LOL way back when. But, you know the best thing of all? We decided to meet again in a year. Life happens fast and seeing the six candles burning for those we had lost made me realize that we need to savor and make all the precious memories we can.
Thank you Mary Evelyn for all the hard work you did to make this reunion possible.

Bart waiting for the "L" in Chicago. Always thinking!

He was my first born child.

If you knew my Bart, you'd know what he would say about today's blog..."Well, Mom, I see you saved the best for last". Humor is a gift that flows through him. He was my first born child...and you only have one of those. I ache for first children because they are the ones we learn on...remember all those books you read on parenting and how you tried it all out on that oldest kid. Poor kid. But, none of my parental failures stopped this kid from becoming the strong, tenacious, self-sufficient, responsible, talented man he is today. All you have to do is spend 10 minutes conversing with Bart to realize that there is a lot of substance between his ears.
From childhood, he was like a sponge, soaking in knowledge any where he could find it. And, talent? Well, I'll tell you that this kid has more talent in his little toe that I have in my entire body. He showed a talent for art at an early age and even drew pictures all around the bathtub at the age of three while taking a soak. (private joke)
As the oldest of four, he sometimes had to take a back seat but never complained. He has always taken his responsibilities as the older sibling of three brothers very seriously and been a supportive force in the lives of his brothers. Yes, they all look up to their older brother.
I mentioned talent earlier...he has been an actor (doing movies and tv), comedian (performed at the Chicago Improv for years as well as all over the country), a director, an artist (both in fine and commercial art), a writer and is a dang good photographer(ck out his Flickr site on my favorites). He also spent several years in the navy in naval intelligence and was the honor recruit of his class. And, like the rest of us, he is an avid gamer. Now, I ask you, is that not talent?
Bart has two sons from his first marriage and is now married to a very intelligent young woman who is a dedicated teacher in the Chicago inner-city school system. She will make a difference.
He does not just "talk the talk" when it comes to changing his world but is an active participante.
The life lesson Bart taught me was not to be materialistic. I do believe that he would actually take the shirt off his back and give it to someone if he thought they needed it more.
If I seem to have been boastful and or proud this week while introducing my four sons to you, I apologize...NO! No, I don't. Oh, I know they can't walk on water and "OH BROTHER!" have we ever had our share of ups and some real downs, but, you see, from infancy to manhood, I consider it such a privilege and blessing to have been able to share this life journey with these four fine, interesting young men. Thanks for the memories, kids!

Tim in his car.

He was my baby for 13 years.

When he was only a preschooler, Tim saved his money for weeks and weeks for a trip up to Gatlinburg. Once there, he held his little money bag close to his body and looked and looked to find just the right item to purchase. As we made our way down the shop lined streets, we came to a fake well on the street with a sign explaining that all the money in the well would be donated to help crippled children. "Why is that here, Momma?", he ask as he looked inside at all the money at the bottom of the well. I explained that some children were not as blessed as he and his brother were and that the money would be used to purchase crutches, wheel chairs etc. for children who were crippled. We started to walk on down the street but noticed that Tim was still standing by the well looking inside it. "Come on, Honey", I beckoned. He looked up at me with those beautiful eyes and with a smile, he poured all his money into the well and he was never sorry he did it. That is my Tim.
I told you that each of my sons taught me a life lesson...Tim taught me to give. He was always that way.
Several year ago, he married a very lovely and talented young woman who had three teenagers...she happens to be a great cook too. (Go to her site in my favorites...it's Foothill Primitives) He loves those kids as if they were his own and is now the Grandfather of three. I am so proud of the way he interacts with his Grandchildren and of the love he gives them.
I had to use a picture of him in a car because that kid has always LOVED cars...especially Formula One racing. His office is filled with memorabilia of Formula One events he has attended. If I were a rich woman that kid would be driving a big red Ferrari...the car of his dreams. Next to cars he LOVES cats and has had a cat since he was able to carry one in his arms.
Although he is a business man, he is a talented craftsman as well. I don't think there is much of anything he can not repair or build. He has taken broken tables, chairs etc. and made them look new for me. He even carves missing parts.
He is an avid gamer and has taught himself to play a pretty mean guitar lately.
That's my Tim!

Todd respresenting UT Law School at Yale

TODD REPRESENTING UT LAW AT YALE FOR MAULK TRIAL....He won!

Something to Celebrate!

I guess it is because Mother's Day was this weekend...I am not sure, BUT, for some reason my sons are on my mind more than usual this week. Since I wrote the piece about my son, Chad, I have been inspired to write a little bit about my other three sons over the next few days.
Because we really have something to celebrate with our youngest son, Todd, today it's his turn. When I called to tell him what I was doing, he said, "That's okay, Mom, but PLEASE no stories about embarrassing things I did when I was little." LOL.
"I'm saving that for my book," I told him joking. I promised him I wouldn't tell kid stories, so I will keep that promise. I could, however, write a book about each one of my sons as I suppose any Mom could do but I will save them the embarrassment and just get 'em in my blogs some.

Todd is a very hard worker. He was always the kid who wanted to win the prize, get the A etc. When he was a Sophomore in highschool he took a class which was an introduction to Law. At the end of the class, they staged a trial in which he was given the task of being one of the trial lawyers. The teacher gave the students a situation and they had to treat it as though they were real lawyers trying a real case...they had to take the facts, develop a case and try it. As I sat watching him, I realized that he was really really good at it. After the class, he decided he wanted to persue becoming a lawyer. Following under grad school he was accepted in law school and worked very hard through a lot of difficult circumstances. Earlier this month he found out that he passed his Bar exam and last Monday was sworn in. He is now a working lawyer. YEAH! Way to go, Todd. Congratulations!

I mentioned before that each of my sons taught me a life lesson. Todd taught me to forgive. He is the most forgiving person I have ever known and teaches by example. And, every year on my birthday he takes me to a UT football game and we have a ball!

"The Party's Over"

CHAD BEHIND THE EIGHT BALL

My house is quiet now...filthy, lol,(It can be cleaned) but very quiet! We are alone again.
I drove my son to the airport and saw him off to the big city to live his life. A life we once thought was an impossibility. After five years of trying, yearning and seeing specialist, we were told we could never have a child of our own, SO, when we found out that Chad was on the way our entire family was elated. I remember that my second son, Tim, who LOVES cats, had just lost his favorite cat and was very sad. When I found out I was going to have a baby, I told Tim that I was going to get him something much better than a cat. He looked up at me through sad, little eyes and said, "But, Momma, I don't like dogs so much".
Although I believe that ALL children are blessings from God, we called Chad our, "Miracle Child". (Then eighteen months later we had another miracle lol). Chad was a child that beammed. Always smiling and friendly to everyone he met. He was almost like an adult in a child's body... smart, aware and interactive. I often tell people that each one of my sons taught me a life lesson. Chad taught me not to judge people by their outward appearance but to wait and get to know them and their circumstances before making judgements.
About three years ago we noticed subtle changes in his personality and thought it was because he had had some life changing experiences in NYC...living through 911, a violent robbery in his apartment (not to mention the fact that as a part of his job in television news he has to view raw footage of things nobody should have to see) that had caused these changes. However, two years ago, after a battery of extensive tests, he was told that he has MS. Folks, I have lost family and friends to cancer, heart attacks etc. and they are all bad. I have a son who has suffered a heart attack and has diabetes and yes, that is bad, BUT, I am telling you now...MS is a mean and sneaky disease. And, the medication to keep it controlled is almost as bad as the disease. Out of respect for my son I won't go into the details, but, I ask you to read about this disease that takes control over the lives of many, many people across this country and then if you have the opportunity to even give a dollar to aid in the research to find a cure for it, PLEASE donate. Scientist are very close to finding a cure now and "PLEASE God, let it be in Chad's lifetime".
And, what kind of Mom would I be if I didn't encourage you to go to my favorites and check out Chad's photo site. He happens to be a brilliant photographer. By the way, the first young woman on his headshot's list is his wife, Amanita...lucky man, right? She is an actress and is with the Juilliard School.

Today is "Mother's Day"!
The first memory I have of my Mother is of the two of us sitting in the front porch swing... swinging, singing, and telling stories. Funny how I can close my eyes and actually see us there. I can hear her sweet, gentle voice and see her big brown eyes twinkle as she'd spin her tales. And, when I go there in my mind's eye, it makes me feel so warm, happy and secure. I was blessed beyond words with an angle of a Mom. She was my mentor, my example, my best friend.
When I was in grade school I always had mixed emotions on Mother's Day. Back in the day, on Mother's Day men, women and children wore a flower pinned to their clothing in memory of their mothers...a red flower if your mother was alive and a white flower if she had departed. My father was a Baptist minister and every Mother's Day when we would get ready to go to church my Mom, my sister and I would pin on our red flowers but my Dad had to wear a white one for the mother who died when he was eighteen months old. I always felt so sad for him and would always give him an extra hug before leaving for church. I wonder if that custom still exists today? I seriously doubt it.
You know how you sometimes wonder if you were the best Mom you could have been. You second guess your decisions of the past...like leaving your children to work and not being there when they came home from school or not being there to tuck them in at bedtime. And, the decisions you made during those teenage years...OH MY! did I do the right thing?? After this weekend, I don't think I will ever worry about that again. My third son flew in to be with me for the weekend, my second and youngest came over for what I thought was going to be a visit with their brother, but, turned out to be a "Mom celebration". And, to top it all, just as we were preparing to have dinner a big brown truck pulled into my driveway and delivered the most beautiful floral arrangement from my first born son. The arrangement was full of my mother's favorite flowers. Flowers she always grew in her garden. The card inside read: "I Love you, Mom. Keep on blogging, Bart". I was seriously overwhelmed. I felt like Sally Field's when she accepted her Academy Award. She came to the stage, looked out at the audience and through tears said, " You like me, you really really like me".

Little Boys

I waited in the long, wide airport corridor for his plane to land. Suddenly, he appeared at the gate and started walking toward me. As he approached I did not see a 34 year old married, professional man who lives in one of the largest cities in the world. I saw a three year old...grinning from ear to ear, hair bouncing, blue eyes twinkling. I saw my little boy. As we drove away from the airport I wondered, "Do we ever see our sons as anyone other than our little boys?" Later this evening I got the answer to my question when my 47 year old son who is the Grandfather of three offered to carry down the cook out garbage and put it in the can AND I handed him the garbage, looked at him and said, "Be careful going down the stairs, Honey".

Rain! Rain! Rain! For the last few days it has been raining buckets here in Eastern TN. BUT, I guess I should be grateful for all the positives the rain brings. I am reminded of a question I heard this morning from someone on television. The question was,"What is the secret of true happiness?" I learned at an early age that, for me, the secret of happiness is to walk in gratitude. A lesson my loving, intelligent Mother taught me...you might say, "the hard way". We lived in a small town here in TN where people were blessed with the necessities of life but not an abundance of stuff and things. When my sister and I would complain and complain about what we did not have...store bought clothing, a big house, a boat etc. we'd find ourselves knocking at the door of one of the town's most impoverished families with a basket of goodies (good, but used clothing most often made by my Mother, food items and even flowers from her garden). She was smart enough to know that talking at us would not do as much good as showing us. So, like clockwork, as soon as we would start our moaning, she'd start humming hymns and packing a box of goodies for us to deliver. We soon got the message that if we were gonna feel sorry for ourselves and complain, we should do it quietly and out of her ear's range.
Thinking of those days reminds me that in a week I go to my 50th highschool reunion. I look in the mirror at the wrinkled face looking back and then scan down to the flab and have second thoughts about going. OH, I forgot..."Walk in gratitude, Sandra". Yes, I am wrinkled and overweight but I don't have cancer, am not in a wheelchair etc. and I will admit that it will be so good to see all those people that were young with me and shared those years of pop quizes, football and basketball games, dating and that good old fifties "Rock and Roll" that my Father told me would corrupt my mind and lead me to hell. That class of 1959...all those young lives that have now been lived. These are the positive things I must fill my mind with these next few days until I see those faces that shared my youth.

And the classes went well

Today my daughter-in-law, Betsy, came over and boy is she a good teacher. This ole gal has learned some stuff about a blog...you will see in the future.

It's a beautiful morning in Eastern TN. The rain left reflective puddles, flowers with water droplets on every petal and a clean earthy smell in the air. I couldn't resist getting out and taking pics of the morning which I will post at a later date.
This weekend my son, Chad, who lives in NYC is coming for a visit. Since we only see him about twice a year our house is bursting with excitement and plans for baking homemade cookies and a family cookout.
My daughter-in-law, Betsy, comes tomorrow to help me work on this blog and the jewelry making is still rolling on. And, I thought retirement meant rest, reading and more rest. Not for this old girl, and, I like it that way!

“Santa Fe Explosion”
The first time I went to Santa Fe, NM
I was like a kid in a toy store. The buildings
seem to rise from the desert as if they were
a part of the natural surroundings. The shops
were filled with beautiful original art and turquoise
and silver handmade jewelry. AND, I will never
forget the red peppers. Red peppers everywhere!
Carts on the sidewalk filled with strings of red
pepper and red pepper wreaths hanging on
gates, fences, doors and walls.
This piece was inspired by my first visit to Santa Fe.
It features 4 Jasper turquoise discs and one faux turquoise
pendant which I have adorned with silver wire work.
The discs and pendant are hung from silver Pony beads.
I chose to add these red glass beads because they reminded
me of the red peppers I saw there. Finally I finished it with
turquoise gemstone chips and a silver rope toggle.
This piece is heavy, therefore, I strung it on heavy
silver beading wire. It measures approx 22” with a
3” pendant.

Occasionally, I will post a photo and story of one of my pieces of jewelry. Today I have chosen "Santa Fe Explosion". I love the west and specialize in turquoise designs. Enjoy! and if you like what you see, please visit my shop in Etsy by clicking on the Etsy link in the upper right hand corner under "Find my work".

And a new day begins!

Yeah and Hip Hip Hurrrrrrah this old lady has a blog.........now she must decide what to do with it!!!!
I have been designing since I was two years old and told my Mom that my doll's dress was ugly. Seriously folks. I can remember having a project going on every table in the house and my Dad getting upset with me because he had to eat his dinner on a tv tray. My husband, Ed, can also attest to the fact that I always have something going. For the last 30 years we have traveled as much as possible and taken photos of all the places we have been. Today, I make photo cards and prints from that collection of travel photographs. My latest venture is jewelry. I love, love, love designing and creating jewelry. My hubby(God love him for his patience) says,"Darlin' you have to find a way to pass on your creations if you insist on creating more and more and more" LOL. Therefore, I set up an Etsy store where I sell my work. I will use this blog to show my designs of jewelry and photo work.
And on this rainy spring day in eastern TN where the leaves are rapidly filling the trees, the grass is growing so fast it needs cutting weekly and the spring flowers have come and gone, this old lady says goodbye for now.