Back to the Roots...Where I Come From

I mentioned my wonderful gramma Davis. Her full name, Nancy Elizabeth Davis...married John Franklin Davis. Through the years, I spent time sifting through the past with mother and asked many questions. She was one of ten phenominal children, next to last in the long line.
Her name, Martha Lucille Davis Freedman...married James William Freedman. As a baby, her name was Lucille Davis. She said, "I always loved the name of Martha. When I was a little girl, I asked mama if we could add that to my name." Obviously, the answer was yes. Over the birth of many nephews and nieces, one of her favorites was named after her and called by Martha all of her life.
Mother's sister, Lois, always known as the 'matriarch' of the Davis Clan had two nieces named after her. At reunions, one of the fun and 'could not forget to do things' was for the Martha's and the Lois's to have their picture made together.
Our family was built on love that thread itself deep inside and out over the course of time. If you met us...we hugged you. If you joined the Davis Clan...we hugged you. If you bumped into us in town...we hugged you. When you arrived at the reunion...yep...WE HUGGED Y O U!!!
I loved hearing of my mother's childhood. She grew up in the depression...one pair of shoes for the year. When she was in elementary school, she stayed in trouble. Dancing was her fascination. Told by her, she'd get up on the table and dance, dance across the floor at school and dance anytime she had the chance. What happened...you wonder. She danced a hole in the sole of her one pair of shoes! That's what happened.
The stories of 'cotton pickin' days were always intriguing to me. Each child began the picking grind when they turned 6. My mother was not a strong 6 year old. So, two brothers, Clarence and Alvin, positioned her between them as they went down row after row of cotton during the heat of each day. She picked everything, junk, vines, whatever her small hand (gloved, of course) could grab in a hurry. The two brothers would toss some of their picks into her bag as well. They drug the long sack behind them with the rope handle positioned over one shoulder. Their goal each day, as guided by Papa, 60 pounds.
Come the end of the day, the cotton wagon was perched at the end of the pasture...the old mule waiting patiently as he dozed. Each of the siblings had to take their bag of cotton, toss it over the sides of the wagon and prep the wagon for the cotton mill where it was weighed and tallied. For Lucille, her brothers always tossed her load first and then quickly emptied their pick of the day over the top. Why? They were covering for her. Remember, she picked trash and all. Papa would not have been a happy papa had he known that.
Each of the children had one pair of overalls, one pair of sox and one pair of pickin' boots. The boots were high calfed and laced from the toe to the top. The girls all wore handkerchiefs over the tops of the heads, under their floppy brimmed hats. They wanted to keep their fair, ivory skin just that way!
The story goes that each evening when they hit the house, they changed their clothes and laid them over a chair or something in the corner, out of the way of the main traffic. When the morning light broke through the windows, they were up and at it again. Sometimes the overalls were dry, sometimes they were still damp. Nevertheless, they had to be worn. EEwweeee. She always swore if they were dry, by the end of the week they 'could stand in the corner alone!'
Those children grew up in a time where they had to create their fun. No television, no bowling alleys, no this or that. Some of the games they played on a typical summer day went like this: Red Rover Red Rover; Pop the Whip; Tin Around the House, Kick the Can and many, many other games. An artesian filled lake was positioned not too far from their house...many hours were spent there in a boat.
Back in those days, church supers were a fun event. Those gatherings represented a combination of food, fellowship and fun. It was always, one great social! Grama Davis cooked pies, fried chicken, made salads..and all the other mothers did the same things. As I was told, "we ate the best of all foods. The tables wore festive cloths and iced tea was served in fruit jars. There were tubs of sodas, swimming in ice!" Now, what kid wouldn't enjoy those fellowships?
To me, our Christmas was always enchanting, exciting, delightful and just fun! We began after Thanksgiving and shopped til we dropped, wrapped packages, put up our tree and planned our meals. That all occurred between the candy baking!
For my mother...their Christmas was also a festive time. She recanted, "When I was very little, I remember the secrecy and excitement in the air. Mama made pies and cakes for Christmas. Her specialty was Lemon Pie. The scent of lemon pie always makes me remember the long bench in our kitchen with all the pies cooling."
"We did not have a Christmas tree, but on Christmas Eve, we each chose a chair for Santa Claus to leave our presents on. We hung our stocking over the chair back and on Christmas morning, they were filled with fruit and nuts. Our gifts were in the chair and around the chair. We always found the scuff marks from Santa's sleigh in our fireplace. Papa was always sure to make the marks in the heavy soot on the back wall of the fireplace before he went to bed!!"
As said by my mother, "Christmas was just another celebration that bonded us with love and appreciation of the things mama and papa did for us throughout our lives." Strange, that's exactly how I feel about my childhood.
Thus, when I have spoken about strong Christian family, how I grew up and more, now you have a backdrop to encompass those memories. Were we rich? Nah. Did we travel the world? Nah. Did we eat Green Eggs and Ham? Nah. But we shared life, built a strong foundation and launched myself and my brother into life careers of our choosing.
As for Christmas at our house...Jim was a driving force for the grand finale. We all lived it, loved it and couldn't wait for it to come again. In my final years as an Instructional Coordinator, I drove the others on my floor wild. A couple of years in a row, when mid-October arrived, I began to put my Christmas CD's on. They would kick and scream for a while..and, then. I'd hear them humming Christmas songs.
Strength, communication, cooperation, respect and hard work with a dash of pride forged this kid prior to stepping into the big, real world.
Have I given back? I think so. Family, friends and a lot, a lot of students who walked into my classroom. For some of them it was perhaps the only hug they got in a day, a week, a month or a year. But, it didn't cost a thing and, perhaps, it gave them a small piece of goodness that thrust them forward for one more day!
Weight has always been my challenge. Now, the wait is my challenge. But, preparing for a new life change has opened new doors to me. I knew I liked writing...but, I never knew I loved writing. It's good to see your own thoughts flow onto the page. And, who knows? it may offer a smile to someone else.
Someone once said,
"Life is a song - sing it.
Life is a game - play it.
Life is a challenge - meet it.
Life is a dream - realize it.
Life is a sacrifice - offer it.
Life is love - enjoy it."
How ya doin' in Life 101 today?

Whatchu Talkin' 'Bout, Willis?

Our big 'ol white house on the hill was our home. It was a Welcome Mat to anyone choosing to walk through the doorway. It provided plenty of space for guests, birthday celebrations, holiday fun and meals and so much more.

Until my folks bought me a 1964 Ford Fairlane, I rode the bus to school. I can think back to my younger days, grabbing the last bite of breakfast and flying through the front screen door, pitter pattin' down a bunchhhhh of steps to the front yard and then going into burst of speed mode to arrive on the side of the country gravel road as Mr. Worrell pulled up and screeched #25 to a halt!

His gruff 'mornin' and why are you late again, greeted me as the wheels slowly pulled forward. Now, Mr. Worrell didn't care for me, 'cause I was country. I didn't care for him 'cause he was McGruff. More than once we exchanged thoughts about our farm. He never did win one of those arguments. Imagine that.

Those were the days of skirts, sweater tops, bobby socks and penny loafers. And, to enhance the skirts, we wore no less that 8 ruffled petticoats 'neath those skirts. Geeze...back in the day, pants/slacks were not the 'in' thing for us. But, I managed and my favorite of all skirts (made by my sweet mother) was a pink 'poodle' skirt. How cute was I???

At the end of the school day, we'd mess around out front of the high school, not injure anyone and watch the cars leave the parking lot. Finally, here'd come 'ol slow #25...my ride for the day, again. And, McGruff in his usual 'here we go again'...out to the country. Hey, if it hadn't been for kids like me, he wouldn't have had a job!!

In the house on the hill, I had the front bedroom. It was large, with three huge windows there. I was the 'hot box' kid of the clan, thus, one of two huge air conditioner units was placed in my window. At night I'd slide the bar down to freeze and drift off to dreamland. One of the huge windows was to the right of my bed...and, I was always safe. Rip (my devoted German Shepherd) slept on the front porch by the front door and my window all night til the wee hours of morning.
He had his routine of bounding off the porch and making his circle of the farm. By the time daddy hit the back door to go milk, Rip would be back in place like nothing had happened.
That was okay, until any morning he had crossed paths with a SKUNK!! I don't know how the skunck faired, but whether he lived or died, his revenge wafted into our nasal cavities! Ewwweee. Yuck 'o duck. I was always the lucky one who needed to take the vinegar and ketchup and rub him down. Double EEEWWWWEEEEE.

Now Rip wasn't the only one to smell of skunk at our home. I remember back when I was maybe 4 or 5 and Jimmy (my brother) was 12 or 13. He and a favorite cousin, Eddie, had spent Sunday afternoon roaming the farm. Obviously, they thought it would be fun to chase a skunk. Yeoww. The skunk won. They came home smellin' to high heaven and none of us wanted to be near them. No! I did not rub him down with vinegar and ketchup!! That Sunday night we went to church at old Concord Church. I seem to recall the youth sat up in the choir loft on that Sunday night...and, yep...there sat Jimmy and Eddie! Top row, all alone...no one near them! They stunk! Like skunk!!

For many years, we had a maid that came every week and cleaned our home. One of the most memorable was 'ol Clemmie! She was a trip and she was destined to train 'Pat' to be neat and organized. NOT! I'd come through the house and I'd hear Clemmie cut loose with, 'Ms. Pat come hea a minute, child.' Come, I did to see what was happening. She'd open my huge closet and show me how neat and orderly she had arranged EVERYTHING! Sweet Clemmie would give me a sermon on 'how to' and I'd smile and say, 'ok, Clemmie, I'll do better!' NOT.

Now our dad hand raised our beef. We had a 300# freezer that sat on the small back porch. It stayed full of Ribeyes, T-bones, roasts and more. Anytime we had just brought a load home from the butcher, as Clemmie would leave, she's smile and ask, "Ms. Lucille, you gots any brain or kidneys in this hea freezer? I knows ya'll don't eat dat stuff."

If we did have those very special and tender organ meats (aaarrrggghhh), mother would put the packages in a brown bag and hand it to her. Of course, she got some great cuts of meat, as well. Not only did that freezer serve her well and us, but Jim and Sandy were married and on their own. They came about every weekend from Waxahachie or where ever he was Education Director and when they left, they left will sack fulls of beef. I've heard him tell of his pastor, Sam Tullock, inviting them over for a bologna sandwich one Sunday after church. Jim's reply was, "well, thanks, we can't come and we can't afford bologna. We have to go home and eat Ribeye and T-bones."

Yep, those were the days. How's my closet today? A mess. Where's Clemmie? LOL. How's my car? Great...somewhat nicer than a 1964 Ford Fairlane. How's my freezer? Fair, but not filled with home grown anything! How's life? Challenging, sometimes frantic, other times steady and slow. How's my blood pressure? Perfect these days.

At times when I am moving at warp speed, have too much spinning in my head and can not slow down, I pause and reflect on some favorite sights and sounds from the past. The pasture, that ran perpindicular to the haybarn and calf pasture, had a gentle slope to it's landscape. I loved the springtime when the grass grew over that pasture. It was tall, rich and lusch. I loved to go flop in a spot, spread my arms out side to side and lay quietly to watch the puffy white clouds drift along on a breeze. That was a pause, as a kid, to lie in nature's arms and dream about...whatever I wanted.

One other favorite sight was after a storm. I could walk out onto the huge front porch and raise my eyes to sweep the slope of the front yard, across the gravel road, down the long hill into the bottom and way beyond to creek line and trees. There, you'd see a most gorgeous rainbow glow for many minutes. That was our 'SIGN'. The storm was over, we were safe again. Life could resume.

Those are the things that enrich each day now for me. I'm one day closer to Lap Band surgery. One day closer to life change forever. One day closer to a new beginning. I hope everyone is one day closer to something. It doesn't have to be a health 'thing'...I hope there's something on the horizon of your life that brings you into focus at least once a day.

Life has a way of leading us through the portals. It is our choice to follow, turn away or run through with zestful youthfulness to see what's there. Enjoy each day and live it to the fullest. I wish everyone 'green lights' and 'blue skies' with every new dawn. And, while you are moving forward, do something kind this week for a stranger. Random Acts of Kindness are gifts that require no more than compassion and creativity!

Celebrate life today.

Don't Mess with My Old, BFF's

This week's been interesting. Suddenly, email opened, a stranger has responded to an old LaVega classmate's comments regarding politics and today's situations...and bzzzzzzz. I reacted. Why? Let's just say when the remainder of our 110 graduates from the Class of '67, LaVega High School, has managed to stay connected this many years (via email)...ya don't take cheap shots from the 'nosebleed section!'
A stranger who knows nothing about us managed to launch some 'not so nice' labels and then moved on into the world. I responded and I did it for the intruder to prove a point. All of us went out into the world to do many things in life. Many of us attended colleges and universities, many of us did not. That doesn't matter. Success is success labeled with the same spelling and it didn't/does not require higher education for all.
I've had that on my mind today because I feel I jumped, reacted and shared insights that may have somehow insulted some of my fellow LVHS grads. That was not my intention at all. I just wanted the stranger to 'butt out' of our class communique and move on to her own territory where she does know people, places and things.
As I have thought about the comments back and forth, the world's situation and the price of gas (falling, finally)...I paused to ponder...why am I so focused on all of these issues? I have a major life change just around the corner and it's deep and wide. Of course, I become less wide once it's done and that's a positive.
Daily, in the back of my mind, my thoughts trail ahead in the scheme of time. It's saying..last Thanksgiving feast, last Christmas with all the goodies, last chance to eat Mexican food, etc. At least it hasn't registered The 'Last Supper'!! Whew! That's a good thing.
Imagine this...you are going to be required to consume 65 grams of protein a day after surgery. Now that's amazing, you think. How so? It comes in mixes, in round tubes you can carry in your purse, in the form of prepped protein ready to swallow, etc. Now, those 65 grams have to channel through a one ounce pouch. OUCH! You mean I can no longer consume all those things which do not eat me first? Awe, mannnnn.
But then, a brighter light ignites in the gray matter. Imagine down the road, -30, -60, -100...now that's something to ponder. Go figure! Me...minus another person! Yeee hawww! Let's do it.
Nothing is impossible. We live life. We face challenges. We defend our old classmates. We SURVIVE! I've done it once, can do it again. As I sat and thought about 'stuff' today, I thought of my sweet, sweet gramma Davis. Nancy Elizabeth Davis.
She was mother of 10 children in the days of depression. They had an Uncle Charlie that lived with them for a long time. She prepared three square meals a day, made the bread and desserts for every meal...and then, cleaned up to do it all again. She was a remarkable woman.
In her later years, she struggled with congestive heart failure and lived with her children for months at a time. I delighted in her time 'with us' in the country. She had long, silver hair that was wound up in a tight little knot on the back of her head. Her soft, blue eyes would look at you and her thin lips would curve into a smile that said, "I love your heart. Spend some time with me."
Gramma spent all of her days lying down on the bed with a fancy foot pillow under her ankles. She propped her feet 24/7 to help with the edema she experienced. If you wanted to play, she was there. If you needed a hug, she was there. If you needed a friend and maybe some quiet time, she was there. Karram, Go Fish, Old Maid...all games that she'd play til the cow's came home.
Her love overflowed and her love for family was beyond all others. She had birthed today's DAVIS CLAN (what we called ourselves each summer at reunions) and had survived life. I was thirteen when she passed. My heart was broken, but life moved on.
When I pause and remember those days, I can see her frail outline, dressed in the soft blue plaid seersucker dress in summer. I can recall the Daniel Green slippers that nestled her feet and the soft handkerchief she held all the time. Her hankies always had flowers on them and they were just a part of her. When she walked to the car for a doctor's visit or to come out to our farm, she walked with someone on either side of her, holding her frail arms and guiding her every step.
She depended on us. She trusted us. She loved us.
Remembering her adds to my confidence in this ROUND TOIT deal I have on-going. I am not frail. I can walk, bowl, drive and cause trouble at all hours of the day. I have strength, courage (I'm working on as I type) and a strong will to be the best at whatever. Thus, challenging, but doable.
I feel that everyone is capable of accomplishing all things they set their minds to do. It takes effort, thought, process and purpose. I have all of the specialists lined up in my half-court, waiting for the time to pass when I have met Aetna's required six month requirement in December. All I have to do is DO IT!!
In the meantime...I will probably react again, if a stranger takes on an old BFF. I certainly would react if it were my family. What would I do differently? Perhaps think 15 seconds longer before I react.
Oh, one of our classmates responded saying perhaps we should just go back to giving information, events, etc. My response was why? We all have the power to make a choice and act on it. In this day and age of computers and keyboards, it's described with six letters...
D E L E T E. Problem solved!