How Time Flies

It's been a while since I wrote here. Life got busy, doctor's appointments were flying past me, interns needed to be observed and me...I just needed to hesitate. I've done the 'six month' thing with my PCP and weight management. I managed to lose about 12 pounds.
That was a difficult time and highly challenging to me metally and emotionally. Diet six more months and then go through surgery to reduce your tummy to the size of an egg. In other words, there's change on the horizon, but we want ya to walk a fine line before you arrive.
Oh, well. I did it...and, Christmas is upon us. And, I'm enjoying some of the old time favorites! I'm awaiting word now from the Surgery Coordinator regarding a date and pre-op appointments. I have no clue how rapid the eagles will fly now.
I do know that the past few weeks have been engaging. Dealing with schedules and tripping on a 'bug' that kicked my feet out from under me complicated the past week. But, it has passed and now I move on.
And, so, no epiphany this evening, no past memories or thoughts...just the joy of the season and preparing to travel to Tampa, Florida to spend Christmas week with Michael's kiddos. They are excited and can't wait for us to arrive. I do know the car will be tilted with all the packages and such. But, it'll get on down the highway!
The one thought that rocks in my mind tonight is of Grandma Davis. She ususally ended up at our country home prior to Christmas. We did it up in grand style from top to bottom and I think it was contagious. She enjoyed the excitement of the season. One sure thing was the fact that she would open all of her gifts several days before Christmas arrived.
You ask why?
She was sure she would not make it to Christmas Eve (again, every year). She lived with a weak heart, congestive heart failure and was always frail. But, we would bring her packages and surround her at the table to celebrate her 'take' at Christmas time.
There she'd sit...plaid, cotton dress, Daniel Greene slippers, her long silvery gray hair wound up in a knot on the back of her head and her wire rimmed glasses perched on her nose. Her hands were thin with maps of blood vessels running all over the top and her stockings were pulled just below the knee and wrapped in a knot that was then tucked up into the stretched top. Oh, and her pale blue sweater would grace her shoulders to keep the 'chill off'.
She always sat crocheting pretty little doilies. And, sometimes, she made larger things. But, those two weathered, worn hands could make those knitting needles sing ... although at a constant pace. She knew all of the patterns and everything always had a different twist to it.
By the time she passed...I was told she had read the Bible through every year for the past several. I would venture to say Grandma Davis had read the Bible at least 40 times in her life and maybe more. Her goal in life was to read through the Bible every year...and, there it lay beside her bed the night she passed.
Life was never easy or gentle for her...but her faith and her Christian foundation sure imprinted on her 10 children. Due to her strong character, love of family and hard work...the Davis family turned out kinda good!
So, thanks to a tremendous role model, mother, grandmother and more. I guess I'd have to say her song today could be the old 'Wind Beneath My Wings.' Because of her excellent/constant love of family, my mother passed all that on to us.
Be careful what you do and what you say...you shape someone's character every day!!

A Temendous Tooty

"What did he just say? Who is this person? How long does this last?" Those were all the comments flying around the Humble HS Auditorium on my first day In-Service as a new teacher there. The auditorium was packed to gills. Teachers, old, new, fat, skinny...restless...why are we trapped here in this uncomfortable chair?
And, then, after several boring people, the Assistant Superintendent walked to podium to give an elaborate intro to Ms. Tooty Byrd from Austin, Texas. Well, curious name, for sure. She's the Keynoter...sounds good. Okay, refreshed, refocused, bring her out!
Taaaa daaaaahhhhhhh there she was. She entered from stage left. Awe, man, who were they kiddin'? Was she 80 or a 100? She walked slowly across the stage, slowly lifted her prompts to the lecturn, laid her forearms across the wooden lecturn and engaged, "Hello, I'm Tooty Byrd." Her voice was 3 octives lower than a good man with a slow, steady Texas drawal. Speak that for second...it's funny. But, that was on purpose.
Yeah, yeah, we see ya...they fooled us. Teachers began pulling work out to put in their laps, scrambling for crossword puzzles, anything to ignore this little old lady on the stage.
Tooty stood about 5'3". She was somewhat plump, white hair, wavy all over her head, dressed very fine, and a voice that sounded just like...TOOTY BYRD!
Suddenly, she spoke. Her intro was dynamic and interesting. She was a counselor for many years in the Austin ISD. The goal of her speech was to light a fire under 1500 teachers, coaches, administrators and all. Slowly she began to set the 'hook' as she talked of her past.
Within minutes, we couldn't take our eyes off this little 'ol power packed, dynamic woman. Suddenly, we respected her and all the 'junk' disappeared from laps. Immediately she was making sense and speaking of real world stuff that had happened in her tenure as teacher/counselor.
She told stories that had us rolling in the floor with laughter as we wiped the tears from our eyes. Her stories were real and she had the knack to 'pull it off' in front of a huge crowd of disgruntled employees. As the laughter rolled, she segwayed into the heart thumper. She had us, now it was time for the real reason she was there.
She began to speak of a freshman boy that entered her high school. Tooty was, at that time, the Sophomore Counselor. The counselors there moved year by year with their grade level. They got them in ninth grade and took them to graduation.
All of the counselors' offices were housed in the hallway just beyond the main building entrance. It was that place where students could slip in a few minutes early if they chose and move to their lockers. I heard Tooty in 1981, so her experiences were from those days of goodness, trust and what do you mean 'a gang?' Those were the good days in the world of public education!!
A tall, slender Freshman boy walked past her door, early every morning. About the third day as he passed, she caught his glance as he looked in her doorway. As was her practice, she smiled and said, 'good morning. Have a good day!' The young man acknowledged her salutation every day of his life. It was as though he could not begin his day unless he walked past Tooty's office to hear a welcome from her.
The years passed, Freshman, Sophomore, Junior....and then in the middle of his Senior year, his familiar face was not walking past her door. She had never been his counselor but she wondered where he was. Did he move? Did he drop out? Was he ill?
Towards the end of that school year, the young man walked into her office and asked to speak with her. She welcomed him, curious to hear from him. They had shared smiles and good mornings for many months.
He began with, "I want to thank you." Tooty was surprised. "No need to thank me, I say good morning to lots of kiddos." His reply, "Ms. Byrd, for four years at this school, you have been the only adult to acknowledge I was alive. You have shared a smile and hello with me each time I've passed your open door. I want to thank you for encouraging me to graduate." Tooty was dumb struck. Where was he leading? All she had done was said 'good morning'.
She leaned across her desks, peering into his eyes and asked, "why are you saying this?" Without hesitation, he said, "my dad died in January of this year. He left my mom and three of us behind. I started to drop out because I needed to assume the man of the house role. But, I remembered you taking time each day to wish me a good day. Because of you, I chose to find work at night and continue here. I'm graduating with my class."
To hear Tooty share that story brought us to our knees. We had laughed at comical stories til the tears rolled, now, the tears rolled because our hearts were touched. Her kindness to a student she never knew or worked with had impacted his life.
You see, whether it's kids or adults, someone is always watching us and hearing what we say. Sometimes, it's the one in the back of the room with a newspaper stuck in his face. Be aware and share a good morning or hello with a smile.
The reason we were all humbled with her Keynote Speech was because she stood for the real reason teachers should be in the classroom. It's not about the money or the time off (they all work two and three extra jobs)...it's about the kids.
Thus, I took that little 'ol Tooty Byrd's message to heart and went into the first day fired up to the nines. I was always thankful that I was one of the teachers in Texas privileged to hear her.
She impacted me, changed my thinking about the classroom and instilled tremendous desire to positively affect students.
I can't tell you how many students received a smile and a 'hi, have a great day' from me at Humble Middle School. Ihad the best room in the building...back corner across from the amphitheatre and the exit door to the buses. I stood in that hallway between every class and threw hello to many faces.
It's never too late to bring 'light' into someone's day. I hope many of us are doing on a regular basis. We have family and friends facing challenges, dealing with health issues and much more. It's not necessary to know every detail of our friends/family, but it is necessary to pause once in a while and say 'hello'...it makes a difference!
As I departed the auditorium that day, I carried some important tools with me that Tooty handed off...respect, courage, kindness, patience, honor, hard work and more. Building blocks of character. They made me who I am today and hopefully, made some impressions on many students who walked through my door over the years.
Building blocks of life = a strong foundation. Due to that...one day closer, one day stronger. I can do Lap Band! Have a good day!

They Impacted My Life

Somehow, through the halls of Junior High School, it became appearant to me that I would be a teacher. Why? I'm not sure. There was Mrs. Yancy (6th grade) who couldn't keep her left bra strap up on her shoulder. Her continuous motion of reaching across to reset that strap drove me crazy! 7th grade, Mrs. Kitchens...Social Studies. She knew her stuff, held my attention and actually taught me some stuff.
As I reflect today, however, two dynamic individuals made wide treadmarks on my life. For some reason through third grade, I hated school, was fearful of 'them' and wished to be at home, on the farm. But when I entered fourth grade, a blessing walked into my life. It was Mrs. Brode. She was elegant, kind, patient and so very nurturing. Somehow she knew how to warm your heart and enable you to engage at peace. I never feared her, her classroom or her assignments. It was just a safe harbor for me every morning of the fourth grade year. She impacted my young life and earned my love.
Second tremendous teacher (and I've written of her in the past) was Mrs. Mabel Legg, Senior English at LaVega High School. She was LaVega High School. She stood perhaps 5'4", slightly rounded shoulders, gray hair pulled back, loosely, and she appeared as gentle and kind as my grama Davis. Her thin, wire rim glasses hugged her face and her pale blue sweater graced her shoulders. She was slight in frame and moved gently about the classroom. She had a Teacher's Edition, but it was just for looks! Mrs. Legg had that entire text book memorized. Simply amazing and truly something to witness as we moved through our Literature book.
Those two teachers planted the vision within me to become an educator. Notice I said 'educator'. I believe the 'best' teachers in the world were/are those who are educating the whole child. They are not simply teaching a lesson for the day to earn one more dollar..they are teacher, counselor, surrogate parent, friend, safety and so much more to the student. I'm speaking especially about the K-8 grade level.
Once I entered the 'realm' of the classroom, I had a personal mission to impact childrens' lives. Many students arrived on campus all together and 'with it' for the day. They came from solid homes, sound parents and a life that enriched them at different levels. Those kiddos were energized and could be strong assistants in a classroom, creating a dynamic climate and culture for the period. We were in 'learning mode'.
Other students arrived at the door in bits and pieces, tired, hair needing a good wash, scruffy looking in their clothes and totally confused about life in general. Those were the students who needed a safe harbor to land in once a day. That was one of my most important goals as a classroom teacher. Create an inviting environment, engage in learning and share some smiles throughout.
They say if you hear from one student throughout life that says 'thank you' for being my teacher...you have experienced success. I often wondered about that until the day Karen Donnelly walked into my office at Connally Jr. High.
As I lifted my eyes from my desktop to see if someone had crept in behind me, I was somewhat startled. There was this beautiful young lady, standing with a sweet smile across her lips. Her blue eyes twinkled and she lifted a finger as she pointed at me saying, "you don't remember me, do you Coach Freedman? You were always so bad at names!" Well, that was true. But, there was something about her and the voice.
Suddenly, a bolt of lightening flew across my gray matter. B A M!! I said, very cautiously, "Karen Donnelly? Is that you?" She shook her head and the smile broadened as she bent over to hug my neck. I was completely in shock and awe. Had she come to 'do me in' or what?
Karen played basketball for me and ran track...7th/8th grade. She ran the 880 which was two laps around the track. I put her through challenging workouts daily, she had to meet certain times at various points of her runs. But, she was a strong minded gal. One day she didn't care for her workout and walked to middle of the football field to fall face down kicking and flailing arms as she cried/screamed I hate track.
Calmly... I walked towards her and began to encourage her to (save her life) stand up, get control and go on to the dressing room. Her workout was over before it started that day. With hesitance she went, frequently throwing glances back over her shoulder at me and the other coaches running workouts from the starting line.
That weekend, she made her move for retaliation. We were at Gatesville HS, Junior High Track Meet. Karen was an eighth grader. I had her warmed up and primed...reminded her to be on her toes and get in the right 'heat' as they called them out. There she stood, on the football field, a few yards back from the starting line. Where was I? I was leaning on the fence down at the final turn with stop watch in hand. I timed my kids as they ran their heats to know where we were.
I heard, "Runners to your marrrrrrrkkkkkkkkkk, Readdddyyyyyy, BAMMMM" and they were off. It was a flying first 220 around the first curve and on to the final curve. There I stood in disbelief. Karen Donnelly was flying...awesome...great time...big 'ol smile on her face as shouted, "See, Coach, I told you how good I was, you shoulda listened at practice." She threw her hand up and waved at me and I smiled awaiting her second turn around that final curve. As she waved the second time, I shouted, "great job, be sure and tell them you are an 8th grader though, you're in the 7th GRADE HEAT!!"
As she slowed and almost stumbled, I added...."And, Karen, finish the race...do not stop!!!" She finished, she had great dislike for me for a couple of weeks and finally, her parents relocated. Bye-bye!
Five years later, there she stood. Finally I said, "what brings you here Karen? We didn't always agree, did we?" She smiled and replied in a somewhat humble tone of voice, "No, I threw tantrums and didn't always listen. But, we left here and moved to Spring, Texas. I ran track there, Coach, and I have a scholarship to college now." I was elated to hear that...before I could respond, she added, "I've come back to say Thank You. You were tough on me...but because of you, I was successful." Those were tremendous comments and compliments. She was the first of three throughout my career to acknowledge "I made a difference."
At retirement, they made a special Book of Memories. I'm not sure about you, but I always wondered after everything, how'd I do? One of the Assistant Principal's in the district wrote the following to me:
"Pat - Best, best wishes for a grrreatt retirement! I'm sure you will begin a new career (doing something) because it's hard to keep you off of the track and not giving something a 100% whether it's a job, a cause, a service, etc. You always do a good job at whatever you do - your people skills are sincere and very strong, as well. Character Ed. is a valuable tool in education and thanks to you, it is a strong program among us!
Thanks for all of these years!" Love, MD
I had arrived. I'd been there, done that and perhaps gave it 'my bestest shot'! There were other kind remarks, but those individuals were sincere folks...not game players. I tried. I loved it. I earned the 'formula' and I changed directions.
Backgrounds, family experiences, friends and life experiences enable us to travel our destinations. Some are done well and some, perhaps we could have done a little better.
I'm one day closer to surgery. One day closer to Lap Band. One day closer to serious life change. One day closer to a new phase of my life.
Perhaps in late January, I'll be reflecting upon the experience of surgery. But, through it all, when I pause and let my mind roam, I find niches of my past that bring me back to a complete 5'8" and allow me to go again.
I hope someone in your life made a tremendous impact on you. More so, I hope you have told someone 'thank you' for caring. It's never too late to make a 'mark' on someone's day. Think about it...what will you say?

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!