One of these nights...

One of these nights I'm gonna write something absolutely amazing and powerful and I'm really looking forward to it.

So far, I haven't figured out what that is, exactly... but I'm okay with that.  I'll keep on writing until I do.

I'd love to write more, and really, I DO write more than I post on this blog because I prefer not to just throw everything I think onto a blog like a diary for everyone in the universe to read.  I work a lot, and I love what I do 99.44% of the time but I would love to have more time to write.  I spend too much time trying to make money. Well, I might as well while I'm able and my kids aren't little anymore so that I can retire before I die.  I tell people I write every chance I get but it's really not true.  If it were true, I'd have a lot more material to read.  I have many, many stories in my head that I really should put into writing, because I know I'm not going to live forever (at least not in this realm, and I'm not sure how much of my brain will make it through the life I'm living now) and I don't want the stories and characters to die with me. After I'm gone my kids can pass this stuff on to other people, or just give them away, but hopefully, I'll get some of them out into the world and let the universe decide whether they're worth keeping.

There were also people who once walked this earth and not just through my brain whose stories shouldn't be forgotten either.  Those who passed after about 2005 will have more information about them on the Internet for future generations than those who passed before that, and there are stories in the old newspapers and databases for those who wish to look for those folks.  Still there are people who lived quiet and simple lives, whose stories weren't compelling Nicholas Sparks novel fodder (or even Lifetime movie fodder), who've left serious marks on the manuscript of my own life.  My grandmother was one... one of her father's seventeen children as well as one of her mother's eleven.  Her oldest sister Lorene was evidently unable to bear children of her own, but I never, ever heard her complain about that, or talk about it at all.  I never asked her why she didn't have children, maybe because I was afraid to bring it up.  Her husband had lost two children in the Christmas Eve crash that claimed his first wife and left him with only his son. Maybe she figured it might've been better to have had no children at all.  His son gave her four step-grandchildren that she dearly loved in her own quiet way.  She wasn't the kind of grandmother who took the kids to Opryland (actually they didn't have that on either side, but all their grandparents cared for them very much) but she baked them goodies and visited them and kept an eye on them and probably went to graduations and things like that, I don't remember.  She also kept a lot of other relatives, like me. 

She, like Granny, had a portrait of a handsome young man I never had the privilege to know, my uncle Olie.  His death at age 18 was one of those events you see in movies, where a local teenager gets really sick (or has an accident or gets shot or... you get the picture) and dies young and the whole town shuts down for the funeral.  But before I knew all that about the town's reaction, I knew that my grandmother and all her family lost a dear brother, son, grandson, and uncle.  I guess because he didn't live long enough to have children and grandchildren of his own, I felt sort of obligated to keep his memory alive.  I think others in my family might've felt that way too.  For example, my uncle Lanny put a new headstone on Olie's grave.  Lanny was just a little fella when Olie died; I think he was about 3.

These are just a few of the stories I'd like to share, as well as some of the fictional characters I've created over the years.  Some of my characters are loosely based on real people and real events, but in general most are purely made up.  Here's an example of that:  I used to wonder what it would've been like if Lorene and her first husband had adopted a child, or had a baby late in life. Everette was only in his early 40s when he died, so he would've died very early in this baby's life.  I came up with a lot of good stories and characters from that "what if" story. Many of my stories are "what ifs" or at least they start out that way.  I do a lot of research into the past to find details and ideas.  Like looking at Olie's death certificate and obituary. 

I need to be looking at the inside of my eyelids.  Gotta go make that money while it's there.

Just remember I love you, more than I can say... maybe then your blues will fade away

And I almost titled this one "Your Love Has Lifted Me Higher," because it was out that year.  I was just tired of looking for a more appropriate title from the year in my mind. 

In 1977, I turned ten. My world was pretty small. I was born in Nashville but I lived just north of the county line in Ridgetop.  I thought Nashville was a pretty important place, like Chicago or New York.  I had no idea that there were bigger places in the world, though I had heard of far-away cities like New York and Atlanta.  I had been to the ocean in North Carolina, which made me a little different from my classmates who went to PCB every couple of years.

Two girls moved in up the road from my grandparents' house in the mid '70s.  They were from Seattle, which was way, way up in the return address corner of the United States.  Looking at it on the globe, it looked like it would be much colder, and I learned that sometimes it was, but they had a lot of weather similar to ours in Tennessee with sunshine and rain.  Humidity was something else.  It's still something else, let me tell you.

Looking back, I never began to comprehend what it must have been like to be a newcomer in a town like Ridgetop.  Having moved out of town a few times since then, I feel a little sorry about that. Everybody in Ridgetop must have seemed to be related. They moved to a house on a hill, a house built by my grandmother's family when she was a little girl and their old house on that same location burned.  From the front yard one could see eight houses.  I had relatives in two of those houses, my grandmother and her cousin Jerry.  Another neighbor was my aunt's sister-in-law.  She grew up there too.

That summer the neighbor girls' dad was transferred and they returned to Seattle.  Elvis died, Star Wars premiered, and other things happened that stamped the year in my memory. One happened to my brother.  Mom took him to day care, where he refused to drink the milk.  They thought he was just "faking" when he said he was allergic.  He obeyed.  He vomited.  Mom found another babysitter quick, cousin Jerry's wife Wanda.  Mom hadn't considered really thought of her earlier because she seemed to keep a lot of kids and had her hands full.  To my knowledge though, she never lost any!  At first I stayed by myself at my grandmother's house that summer, but there was some family trouble going on (other unforgettable events I don't want to write about tonight, and a few I didn't really understand) so I started going to Wanda's too.  I think she saw me as another big kid who could help with the little ones, like her younger brother and nephews who dropped in frequently.

Jerry was one of my favorite relatives.  He was one of those people who always had a smile.  Even in sad moments, he could muster up a grin.  He was funny and kind.  When I was a very little girl, long before 1977, I remember thinking he was cute.  Back then we called him "Jerry Lee."  I noticed a lot of my relatives calling him that today; I even found myself saying it.  When he was born he had a hole in his heart, and some of my earliest memories of him involved him being in the hospital in serious condition, having had a heart attack or something at a very early age (like 24 maybe?).  I remember being told his heart had stopped but he was brought back to life.  I knew what that meant.  It was very scary and I remember being very afraid that he would die.

I wish I could've seen him recently.  Most of the times I've seen him over the past 20 years were when he was working on cars out in the yard and the garage, and I was driving by on my way to Mom's and Granddaddy's.  I think I saw him at Mom's funeral; I know I saw him at Granddaddy's and talked to him for quite a while.

Today I went to his funeral.  I sure hated to see him go.  I pray for Wanda and his kids and grandkids.  Ridgetop is a sadder place without him for sure.

It's Only Make-Believe

So I'm watching CNN and I think, what if there was a parody character called "Kellyanne Conway Twitty"??? And of course, I am not the first to think of this... I'm not sure who was, but Seth MacFarlane, for one, beat me to the punch.



Ah, Seth MacFarlane... I have mixed feelings about him... he is drop-dead gorgeous and insanely talented, but his sense of humor is no smarter than a fifth-grader.  A precocious fifth-grader, but... anyway, great minds think alike, eh??? ;D

Seth either loves or loves to rag on ol' Conway.  Like all Southern white kids in the 70s, I was exposed to regular doses of Conway Twitty.  We watched all those GREAT country music TV shows every Saturday afternoon (as my Granny used to say about watching Andy Griffith) BECAUSE WE HAD TO.  Now, I really love to wax nostalgic about the old country shows and seriously, they played a YUGE part in making me the music lover I am today.  The TV alternatives were limited.  Today's youngsters can not begin to imagine three or four channels. Even the "big three" have local networks!

I don't remember just three channels. I don't remember a time before PBS. I'm not sure when public TV came to Nashville, but I do remember seeing "Sesame Street" mentioned on another show, before I had discovered the Muppets.  That was the first time I ever saw that my mom tried to hide things from me.  She did not want me to start watching "Sesame Street" because she foresaw exactly what happened. She knew I'd get hooked. She didn't want to have to watch silly puppets!

If she were here, I would ask her if she really thought Gilligan was any better.

But back to Conway Twitty.  I DID discover him when I was young, like age four, but that's when he looked like this (from "Hee Haw," by the way, and also used by Seth MacFarlane on "Family Guy"):



If I'd discovered him when he looked like he did in this next clip, I probably would have thought he was hot, like my aunt Peggy and a lot of other women who were young in the 1960s and 70s did. OMG. When Conway died on June 5, 1993, Peggy and one of her friends stayed up late, drinking adult beverages, crying and listening to his music, probably on vinyl... possibly on cassette... maybe, but probably not, on 8-track... and maybe on a CD... not everyone had a player then but they were gaining popularity.  I understood that SHE liked him and I could understand, kind of, because I figured she was about 50 and he was probably about 50 and he sang all those sexy songs and had kind of a cool voice, but I didn't think he was HOT.  But in this clip below, he was kind of cute, and that song is freakin' amazing:



Here is another phenomenal clip of the same song... I did not know this show existed.  As performances go, it's not the best Conway ever did (although it might explain why he didn't dance much once color TV footage began), but it's a piece of broadcasting history for Dick Clark's intro alone. Conway looked very uncomfortable and staged, and had to be lip-synching (I just don't think there was any other way back then) but wow! What a lucky break for an Arkansas boy to share a TV audience with Fabian!



It's only make-believe... just like he's making believe he is singing...  I have a real-life, not make-believe, Conway Twitty story.  When I was 12, I ran into him - I mean, I literally ran.into.him - in a bowling alley in Hendersonville, TN.  He was polite, maybe a little annoyed, but polite.  Later I saw him playing in the 11th Frame Lounge, adjoining the bowling alley, just through the door.  I didn't go in.  That would've been a riot. I was there with my church youth group.  He didn't look it in black-and-white, but he was in his mid-20s by the time he made it to Dick Clark's Beech-Nut Show.  That makes me feel better.  I think it's kind of creepy for an old woman to think such a young man would be attractive!  But my daughter will be 25 this summer - NEXT MONTH! - so I guess that's why Conway looks like a kid in those video clips.

I have always had a great sense of imagination. I'm glad that it has grown up along with me, but I am really sorry that I haven't written everything I've dreamt up over the years.  I created characters based on people I knew but mostly based on "what if" scenarios I dreamed up about them.  I have a lot of these stories but now, I don't have nearly enough time to write about them. I'm trying, though. I'm busy in my "real job" but I have a lot more time than I let myself believe.  I like writing non-fiction as well as fiction.. or maybe I should say, real life as much as make-believe.  I'm blessed to have great memories and imagination for both.

It's all right now, Heaven should be proud

Nervous.

Just like when I was 18.

And it took about 45 minutes to get up the nerve to go up and talk to them. But I did, and now I’ll tell you about it.

Some stories develop a life all their own. Maybe it's a writer thing or an OCD thing, but some events in life turn into more than you expected. Sometimes one plus one equals more than two. Like when I sat watching CMT while Derek was in surgery, and saw a one-time promo video with Buck Owens and his “right-hand man,” and my mission became learning about this Don Rich guy, and… here I am 22 years later, still writing about Hee Haw.

So it is with today's blog entry.

While subbing at a high school in August 2015, I saw class composite pictures dating back to the 1960s. I recognized two brothers, Robert and Michael (not their real names) in the class of 1982 from their jobs in the college bookstore.  Robert frequented the Placement Office, my work-study job. I submitted his resume’ for every potentially fitting job, because even at age 18, I recognized that he was a good worker. I also thought he was gorgeous.

My first year of college, my boyfriend Donnie lived 35 miles away.  (Again, all names have been changed to protect the innocent… and the guilty.) Our romance the summer after graduation was fun and intense.  After college began and football season ended, things got weird.  This guy who’d proposed in my driveway and wanted me home every weekend suddenly stopped inviting me to family dinners. Donnie’s perfect date was semi-pro wrestling. That was fun at first, but got old quick. I wanted him to visit me, like other girls’ boyfriends.  My roommate left every weekend, so we would've had the dorm all to ourselves, but he didn't want to “make that drive.” He preferred my grandparents' house while they wintered in Florida, or his neighbor's shack, where we could hang out on their waterbed.

I was miserable, but I felt committed to Donnie.  In high school, I embarrassed myself by throwing myself at boys I liked. At least with Donnie, I didn’t have to be rejected by anyone else. I thought I should be satisfied. In general, he wasn’t a bad person. He went to church (but never mine, only his mama's), and didn’t drink or do drugs, but, as he even admitted to me years later, he was immature. Honestly, I wasn't much better.  I said all that to say that if I ever thought about taking a chance with Robert (and I did, quite often), I didn't act on it because I felt obligated to Donnie. 

Eventually, he got tired of pretending he wanted to be married, and decided we should take a break. I don’t think I ever cried. I was tired of playing the game too. It was a little too late for me to get to know Robert, as he was about to graduate.  My life got exponentially better though, and fast.  Within a year, I was dating "the rock star." Donnie wanted me back later, but I was done.

But enough about my history.

That day I subbed and saw the composite pic, I wondered what had happened to Robert, and to a lesser extent, Michael. Did they live close by? Did they have children at the school? So when I got home, I did what everybody does in 2017, or at the time, 2015, I Googled them. I saw Robert still had the job I almost kept him from getting.  But more on that later. Neither one married.

I found their names in the obit for their father, who left several siblings, his wife, Edith, 10 sons, and four daughters. That’s right, 14 kids.  I looked for an obituary for Edith. There wasn’t one, but I found the 1975 Tennessean article spotlighting this amazing family who built a beautiful home on a farm and made it work. My imagination whirled: what a life story! I wanted to interview this woman who grew up in Indiana during the Depression, became a “WAC” when it wasn’t all that common for a woman to do so, married someone she met at the end of the war, moved to his home state and contributed to the baby boom - in a big way. But these days, if someone walked up to my door and wanted to talk about my life story and maybe publish an article about me, I'd probably leave them on the porch, so I never approached any of them. 

The 1975 article grazed over the deaths of two additional children; being a morbidly curious nut, I learned that the first, a girl, died shortly after birth, and the third, a boy, at around age 6. Another died in his 40s, leaving nine sons and four daughters to survive Edith, who died this past Sunday of pneumonia.  I have a morbid habit of looking at funeral home websites and newspaper obituaries. I don’t do it every day, but several times a week.  I’ve said before that good Southerners look at the obituaries to find out who they need to visit and bring a casserole.

Today I got to meet several of them.  I sat in the back of the chapel for a long time, observing. Nervous, like I was still 18.  Finally, I got up and walked to the front, where I told Robert my story about wanting to meet his mother. I conveniently left out the part about often wishing I had taken a chance and flirted with him back in the day.  That, too, is a story for another time. I believe I've shared enough of it today.

I also shared my story with Michael, two sisters, and another brother. I told them all my regrets at not getting to meet her. I don’t think I sounded too creepy. If you’re honest, and sincerely show interest in people, they realize you aren't out to hurt them.  I try to be charming too. Hahaha… I realize not everyone has honest motives, and some people use their charm with very impure motives, but that’s not me.  I met two more brothers before I left.  Sweet folks. I may tell more of this woman's story in another blog entry. She lived a long, full life. She was a veteran. She was a super mom – didn’t have a job outside the home but successfully raising all those children and running a farm with her husband - she was an inspiration to me, and I didn't even know her.

I don’t know if this is a nationwide thing, but in the South, funeral homes hand out little folded papers with a picture of the deceased, dates and places of birth and death, surviving family members, etc.  Inside Edith’s, Proverbs 31:10-31 was printed.  I believe it described her well.  You should look it up, but here are a few verses:

^10 [b]A wife of noble character who can find?  She is worth far more than rubies.
¹¹ Her husband has full confidence in her and lacks nothing of value.

¹⁷ She sets about her work vigorously; her arms are strong for her tasks.
¹⁸ She sees that her trading is profitable, and her lamp does not go out at night.

²⁵ She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come.
²⁶ She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue.
²⁷ She watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness.
²⁸ Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her:
²⁹ “Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all.”
³⁰ Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.
³¹ Honor her for all that her hands have done, and let her works bring her praise at the city gate.

Loving a music man ain't always what it's supposed to be...

Well, you can say that again.  I'm still waiting for my tour bus and swimming pool. Hahaha!  I can't really complain, though.  He's a good husband and he's bringing home dinner!!!  Also, our band is playing this weekend... but more about that later.

So I have a lot of big plans for my writing and webpages. I know, I say that about once a year, but maybe God is trying to tell me something. 

For one thing, I'm not getting a lot of work hours right now, and this was supposed to be one of my busy times.  In February, I had 21.5 weekdays scheduled to work in March. By March 1, two days had already been canceled. On March 3, a tech called about her upcoming some surgery, which will put her out 8 weeks. She works 4 days a week. Of course, I have some days I'm scheduled to go other places. I can only be one place at a time, but the lead tech knows this, and I'm sure they'll work out the details when it gets a little closer.

On March 6, I learned that I wouldn't be needed on the 7th as well as the 12th through the 15th.  They also cancelled 4 more weeks scattered through the rest of the year at that location. On the 7th, I learned they could not use me on the 8th.  I called the CPR office and was able to pick up a few days there. That day, the surgery date was set for the above-mentioned tech, so I was able to make some plans, which included two days of teaching CPR, including the 13th and 14th. Naturally, as soon as I did that, a coworker asked if I could work on the 14th, so I canceled that day too.  A few hours later, the lead tech asked if I could work on the 13th. I told her that I had just canceled 3 CPR days and I need CPR to keep the wolf from the door during the slow times, but I'd work in the morning if she needed me to, and she took me up on that.  So, I ended up working a half a day on the 13th, then rushing over to teach CPR. On my way home, I got a text message saying that they did not need me on the 14th after all. Unfortunately, they didn't need me to teach CPR by then either.  Last night they called me in to work today, where I learned that I am no longer needed Wednesday through Friday. So I was planning to work 21.5 days and I'll end up with 13.5, unless something changes.

And so it goes.

Besides that, I've been inspired to do a lot more writing. A few months ago, I started subscribing to a website called newspapers.com.  I'd heard of it before, when I was teaching, but I didn't subscribe because I didn't think I could get my money's worth out of it.  In one of my "fact-finding missions" I do researching sometimes, I discovered an article on the site and it suddenly dawned on me... I could use it to help me with Hee Haw, country music history, Frank Sutton history, Ridgetop history, and the list goes on.  We're playing this coming Saturday night, the 25th, in Dickson, TN, at the VFW.  I don't know the time, I would guess 8:00 pm, but I will try to get that updated ASAP.  I also want to get the Brewer's Chapel page updated. In the next few months we will be getting a new pastor. This is pretty standard procedure, Methodists switch out pastors every few years and our pastor's getting ready to retire. He has had some health issues in the past, but this past year has been particularly hard on him. I am not sure what to expect from our new pastor, but we have had this website for a long time that I haven't been updating, and I think if we want more younger people involved in the church, a strong web presence would be a good thing... and that includes getting control of the Brewer's Chapel Facebook page.  A former pastor started it, which is cool, but since he's somewhere else, we need to get that.  I don't mind updating it, either, as long as I don't have to tweet!

Those two things alone would be plenty of writing, but the Hee Haw page needs some serious updating too.  One of those days off this week I will go to Springfield, to the library to do some research, and to take some pictures of the Royal Inn before it gets torn down. Now, it may be years before they tear the place down, but it could be tomorrow!  There is a man named James Lileks, a writer and reporter in Minneapolis who has a website with motel postcards, etc. Really, he has a veritable treasure trove of modern American history.  I need to send him a picture of the Royal Inn if I can get one before they tear it down, since he has one from there.  Maybe I can send him a link to that pic on the FB "You Know You're From Springfield, TN if..." page, too.  I'm sure Bill Jones would enjoy Lileks' webpage.  It'd also be good if I can get it on my Royalty page too. 

So I have a lot of exciting ideas for my webpages. Another idea I'm considering is oral history type stuff, or interviews with older folks.  I think there are organizations like libraries that have organized programs for this, so I'll have to check into it.  Another oral history idea I have is doing people's memories it Brewers Chapel in a online type thing, maybe on the web page.

But if you will, bear with me a couple of weeks because I'm scheduled to take the MRI registry exam on Friday, March 31. I will be doing a lot of studying for that in the next couple weeks. After that, I plan to be writing a lot.  Of course, if I'm working in MRI a lot at that time, then I won't really have a lot of time to work on writing then either, but I'm pretty motivated right now. I've discovered that I can dictate while I'm driving.  I can set up the phone and the iPad both to record my dictation, and I can also use the voice recognition to record on the other one so I can put them together when I get home.  That's what I've done today. It's taken me some time, but I still have several hours before I have to go to bed, so I can study after dinner.

Don't waste a moment wondering why...

Well, I can't be a Cheatham Countian and not mention the most famous person who ever came from here, the late and definitely great Pat Summitt.  She died this week (in case you have been in a coma and somehow missed that).  Honestly, I don't have much more to say tonight, God rest her soul.

I do think tonight's song lyric sounds like something a coach would say... lyrics from "Do It or Die" by Atlanta Rhythm Section...

Don't let your troubles make you cry
Don't waste a moment wondering why
When everything goes wrong
You have to go on
And do it or die

Do it or die now
Stand your ground
Don't let your bad breaks go gettin' you down
Even when times get rough
And you've had enough
You still gotta try

Do it no matter what the people say
They don't even know you
Die before you let them stand in your way (Don't you know that)
You should know that... life is a gamble all along
Winners or losers you keep rollin' on
So go on and roll the dice
You only live twice
So do it or die

Happy, happy birthday, blog!

TEN years ago today this blog moved from MSN Spaces to Blogger.  TEN years.  A chronicle of my life... 20% or so of my life... documented on the 'Net for all the world to see.  Yes, there were times there were gaps of up to 11 months.  Two different years that I posted only 5 times.  But, I can look back and smile, remembering things like my little girl putting the wreath on the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier when she was 13.  Now she is 23... and almost 24.

I can't believe it's been 10 years since I started this blog.  Time flies, whether you're having fun or not!

I updated my health blog this morning and will update the Brewer's Chapel blog in the near future... maybe tonight.

Life is good and keep looking for more updates!