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.

And I don't know how you do it, making love out of nothing at all

It was the song from the 80s that I play sometimes and always think of someone who didn't turn out to be my soulmate, but who has been in my thoughts at least once a day, every day, ever since.  Not in such a way that it ruins my life, more in a wow, that was a fun memory kind of way.  Or yeah, Jeff used to do that, I wonder if he still does.  Things like, the Seahawks were his team, or he had a Herschel Walker "You lied like a dawg" t-shirt, or that he would never admit it to his friends but he liked Air Supply.

He and most of his friends were brainy and somewhat immature, in an innocent and sweet way.  They weren't out tearing up the neighborhood; they were renting movies, hanging out at houses with pool tables and Ataris, ordering pizza, playing football and/or basketball in the backyard, and collecting comic books.  If they were 17 now, they'd be playing video games like my son.  It was sort of like a high school version of "The Big Bang Theory."  There were a few of us girls who had classes with this crowd.  I saw a few of us there today.  If girls who hang out with gay men are "f@g hags" (and I apologize for being offensive, I would never refer to a person that way myself, but I have friends who referred to themselves that way) what are girls who hang out with nerds called?  They weren't really nerds, at least, I thought they all had good qualities.  Brains and wit were far more entertaining than popularity and obsession with looking good.

So today I went to the funeral home to visit a childhood friend, a mutual friend of ours, a former classmate (a grade younger) and even a short-time boyfriend.  His mom died on the 17th.  I sat next to Jeff, another former classmate a grade younger, longtime friend, former neighbor, and sometimes boyfriend in the old days.  I went out with him 3 weeks before I married Randy.  Bill said Randy and I were people who needed that time of trial, that idea of, well, we've tried everything else, and this is what's right for us.  I guess that was true.  We've been together for a long time - and married for 23.5 years.

When you're happy in your relationship, and I am, and I'm pretty sure Randy is too, it's good to see your exes in happy relationships too.  I like Jeff's wife.  She is so sweet, and she tries to take care of Jeff's dad, and he needs that.  I almost wish I could set him up with Mom because they could both use the company.  But, he doesn't need to have to take care of anybody and she's not able to.  And Bill seems to be happy too.  His girlfriend is cute, and seems kind and sweet.

So yeah.  I'm happy for them all.  Really and truly.

SI wk 0, day 4: And when I'm itchy, I scratch.

Anybody remember this one?  It was from Sesame Street back in the 70's.  

Today did not start well.  Randy played yesterday's messages and we learned that Derek's surgery has been postponed for two weeks. This means his jaw will be wired shut when we planned to go on vacation. That means we've got to reschedule not just us but six or seven more people. But he is a good kid; he said not to worry about him. Bless his heart. 

After that we discovered that the cat crapped in the bath tub and vomited in the hall. Not only that but he crapped on a towel in the bathroom too.  Not a good morning.

Work was easy, relatively... my first block took their exam and I graded it, and spent most of the rest of the day doing the end-of-year packing and paperwork.  We have 1.5 more days, and I'll spend them doing more of the same.  It's all right.  I'm going to spend a little time each week preparing for next year.

Randy is practicing and Derek went to spend the night with a buddy.  Rach moved out today, to start her new summer job as a youth worker intern at a church in Nashville.  I've been sitting here itching all evening.  I don't know if the loveseat's got fleas or what.  (That would figure, wouldn't it?)  I need to stop being so lazy but I figure I'll work hard tomorrow.  Just doing some laundry tonight.

Love is in the air...

Probably the most overused blog title on this day. So what?

We celebrated Valentine's Day in the tradition we started the night before Derek was born. It was raining hard that night. I was scheduled to be induced at 7 the next morning. We dropped Rachel, then 2.5, off with Randy's sister Amy & her family. There weren't as many places to eat around here then. We went to Red Lobster, and it was packed. We looked somewhere else, but I can't remember where. Anyway, we finally went to Cracker Barrel and they got us in. We sat at a quiet little table for two with one of those oil lamps... it was very sweet and even a little romantic.

After that, it was kind of hard to get a babysitter for Valentine's Day in the middle of the week. It was just easier to take the kids along and make it a family meal. We haven't done it every year, and Rachel couldn't be with us this year. We talked about it, but Derek was going to a competition today, and we weren't sure when he'd be home. In the meantime, she made plans to go to church tonight. It just didn't time out for us to all go together.

Well, now Randy's going to bed and I'm watching a show about a group that's working against gang violence in Chicago. When I decided to become a teacher, I didn't get into it to be a community changer. I thought I would work at Sycamore, where I could work the hours my kids were in school and be available to go to their sports events and be off when D was practicing for football. And I was, even though I didn't work at Sycamore. But I was teaching in a different universe. I was teaching in South Nashville, where I really felt like I got to know my students and I felt like I was making a difference in the lives of the kids.

I liked it, but when the opportunity to work closer to home came, I took it. I loved my new classroom, but I missed the community. I still miss it, really, but I know there are kids who need help here too. There aren't as many businesses wanting to throw money at the public school system here, but I know a lot of the kids are living in those same types of communities... kids getting shot (there were three young adults shot last semester, most known by many kids from school), kids getting killed in car accidents, kids who are being abused, neglected, you name it. It's a crazy world, and yet, if we'd lived 300 yards east of here, our kids would've been zoned for it. And even though we live 15 miles from the "hood," we only have to look out the living room window to see a lot of the same issues. Our neighbors (and I'm not just talking about the ones in the subdivision) don't look different from us, but they have family in jail, and problems. The mission field is right around me.

The greatest love of all

When I was a freshman in college, this song took the world by storm. This morning I heard it on "Coming to America," performed by Eddie Murphy as Randy Watson, "who played Joe the Policeman on the 'What's Goin' Down' episode of 'That's My Mama!'" Tonight, I played the real version, in memory of the late great Whitney Houston. God rest her soul. So sad.

We were young and strong, we were running against the wind.

This evening I've been writing my sermon. Yes, you read that right. I am taking a Lay Speaking Course, and Saturday, I have to give a sermon to a jury of my peers, I mean, my class of beginning lay speakers. I am not planning to become a pastor. I do not think God's calling me to do that. Maybe to fill in a pulpit here & there, but no, the shepherding instinct is just not there. God's been working on me for a long time. I've felt the call for about 30 years now, but sometimes I ran from it. Sometimes I was just too busy serving myself. Sometimes I didn't trust God to do what I thought was right. At times I wondered if God was even concerned with me at all. Still, He was always taking care of me, always had a plan for me. Right about the time I first felt the call, my pastor at the time, the late Mike Nelson, started a sermon one Sunday with the song, "Against the Wind." He told us we needed to stop running against the wind and let God have us. I thought I was doing that, but I kept trying to take back the control of my future. I had no idea what I was in for!

there is sunshine in my soul today

Last night I sat at the piano & played hymns. Now, I use the word "played" rather loosely. If you consider playing what untrained children do when they bang on the piano, you are pretty close to having an accurate mental picture of what I do on the piano. I am no real musician there. I can sort of read music, & I can sort of put my fingers on the right keys to play based on what I see & know. However, I do most of my playing with my right hand only because if I played with both hands, a four-minute hymn would take about 45 minutes. I am just really slow at figuring out every note & then getting them all right.

Despite the fact that I am nowhere near church pianist quality, I find playing hymns very relaxing. I could - and sometimes do - sit there for hours flipping through my collection of hymnals, picking out songs that we sing frequently (like "It is Well") or songs I haven't heard since I was a kid at Bethel Baptist (like "Brethren, We Have Met to Worship").

When I first started playing last night, the kids were out with the youth director for an evening of fun. There for awhile, I had my doubts about how the changes in our church youth program were going to work out for good. I can't say exactly why - it's much too complicated a subject for a blog entry & not something I'd want to publish on the Internet anyway. I feel a little better about the subject now. I think my decision to not act in haste was probably a good one. Fortunately, God gave me the sense to realize that my perception of reality wasn't extremely accurate last month. I mean, when you look at all the stuff that happened in September, that's not hard to comprehend.

Last night I thought about all this, & I thought of how we often turn our eyes from Jesus & onto the issues that divide us. Most of us Christians let too much divide us. I know we can't all agree on everything. Can we agree to disagree? Can we be united in sharing God's love? In spreading His Word? The question "What would Jesus do?" comes to mind. I wonder. I think people's ideas of what Jesus would do are vastly different based on what they've been taught in churches & in homes. I had a friend whose image of God was that of a strict, almost unforgiving taskmaster. As a child, this lady lived near my husband, who remembers the lady's father as a harsh & rigid man. (He also tells stories of the man's mental breakdown, probably the result of PTSD.)

Maybe this principle explains why I think God has a great, but also sometimes sarcastic, sense of humor. That's my Dad! I wouldn't say God's quite as sarcastic...but then Dad's not that bad either.

We humans are all flawed. Could we possibly therefore have flawed images of what God wants us to do? I think so. Obviously, people twist the words of the Bible to mean what they want them to mean. But when we look at the big picture, we should all see something close to the same thing - a loving God who gave His Son for the eternal salvation of us flawed humans.

Well, I could sit here all day & talk philosophy & theology. In the last few days, I've really thought a lot about it. But, I have things to do. I want to cook a good dinner tonight, to work on painting more of the kitchen (there's an idea for a future blog entry) & to clean the garage a little more. It was such a huge job, I couldn't do it in one day. So, those subjects will have to wait until later.

I'm glad this is a day of rest.

It's been a busy weekend, & it was a busy week before that.

We just returned from "Warmth in Winter 2007." Though I grew up in the Nashville area, I was unaware of this Methodist youth conference until about 3 1/2 years ago. This was my third year to attend as a chaperone/volunteer youth worker. As in years past, I came home thankful for the children God gave me, because He knew what He was doing. I love all the kids in our youth group, but they're kind of like grandchildren - when it's all over it's good to see them get into their parents' cars & go home. Mine have personalities more suited to my own. Or maybe I'm just used to them. Either way, I'm glad to be home.

As always, it was a lot of work (for me & Randy) but it was a lot of fun. This year, though, was a little different. In the past, I thought there was a lot of emphasis on our own personal relationship with God. Not that there's anything wrong with that - it's certainly the real foundation of our faith - but I was refreshed by this year's increased discussion of the needs of others and ways we can help. A video clip of Invisible Children gripped our hearts. The state youth conference is starting more mission opportunities, and the kids of our church are inspired.

In our district meeting, our group was a little embarrassed that when the district director asked for the best thing each group had ever done, we couldn't think of anything. Our church has - well, I hate to say it, but we've dropped the ball on our older youth. We have a really good younger youth program, but our older youth have been, in their words, neglected. I can understand why they feel that way.

After my first trip to Warmth in Winter, I was inspired to help more with the youth. But, over time, my involvement waned, for various reasons. Last year, I had help chaperoning, & I really thought she was going to take over the leadership role. But, things happened. There were personality conflicts & deaths in families & busy schedules & tight finances. The youth group had all but fallen apart. Now our group is excited again, & I'm happy about that. I hold out hope.