Merry Christmas from Bold Springs, Georgia
‘Twas two weeks before Christmas
When all through the house
Neither Lucy nor I were stirring
Not even my spouse.
The children and grandchildren were comfy
All snug in their homes,
While visions of gifts
In their heads did roam.
And Tim in his sweats
With a comforter wrap
Had just settled his brain
For an afternoon nap.
When out on the lawn
There arose such a clatter,
Lucy sprang from her bed
To see the squirrels scatter.
Away to the window
I flew across the floor,
Lucy ran right past me
And out the doggy door.
The cold, frosty air
Reminded me then
That Christmas was coming
And the year would end.
We have been really busy
With lots of parties and fun
A wedding and a baby
Kept us all on the run.
My dad has moved
From his old home place,
Says that I dumped him off
In the new, smaller space.
He is quite happy
If the truth be told.
Entertaining at every meal
Four ladies--wrinkled and old.
Our family is grateful
For blessings abound.
We love one another
As we gather around.
Political correctness aside
I will say what I might.
“Merry Christmas to all
And to all a good night.”
Sunday, December 11, 2005
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
Prayer in Schools
Prayer in Schools
Thank God that students and teachers may still pray in schools. They pray in the classrooms, lunchrooms, bathrooms, locker rooms, band rooms, gyms, hallways, office, clinic, library, and the shop. They have also been known to pray on the practice field, at the stadium, around the flag pole, and in meetings. They pray before and after games, during graduation, and on field trips. They pray silently, aloud, alone, or in groups. Their prayers often move mountains.
Politicians cannot find prayer in schools because they are looking for the wrong things. They think prayer looks like a political rally where everyone is screaming over everyone else, calling each other terrible names, and ignoring the rights, feelings, and wishes of every listener within earshot. They have forgotten that Jesus preferred the quiet prayer from a penitent soul rather than the self indulgence of the street corner screech.
What would Jesus do? Sadly shake his head and wonder how we have gotten it so wrong for so long. The still, small voice of God is difficult to hear in middle of a whirling dervish.
Shhhhhh.
Thank God that students and teachers may still pray in schools. They pray in the classrooms, lunchrooms, bathrooms, locker rooms, band rooms, gyms, hallways, office, clinic, library, and the shop. They have also been known to pray on the practice field, at the stadium, around the flag pole, and in meetings. They pray before and after games, during graduation, and on field trips. They pray silently, aloud, alone, or in groups. Their prayers often move mountains.
Politicians cannot find prayer in schools because they are looking for the wrong things. They think prayer looks like a political rally where everyone is screaming over everyone else, calling each other terrible names, and ignoring the rights, feelings, and wishes of every listener within earshot. They have forgotten that Jesus preferred the quiet prayer from a penitent soul rather than the self indulgence of the street corner screech.
What would Jesus do? Sadly shake his head and wonder how we have gotten it so wrong for so long. The still, small voice of God is difficult to hear in middle of a whirling dervish.
Shhhhhh.
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Till It Ends
Till It Ends
One Saturday afternoon Daddy and I went for a leisurely ride through Jones Valley and over the mountain to Big Cove. He enjoys the beauty surrounding Huntsville’s hills and had never seen the new Target. He decided that he wanted to see where his older brother, Arthur, had once lived. After what seemed like a lifetime, including a detour at Honeydew Lane, I realized that we would never find Uncle Arthur’s old homestead because none of the old landmarks remained. Finally, I asked, “How much longer are we going to be on this road?” My sweet Daddy responded, “Till it ends.”
Our family is struggling with caring for a man who desperately wants to remain independent and in control. Unfortunately, his health and safety demands changes in the natural order of things. For those of you who know him well, you understand that wrestling a grizzly bear would be easier.
However, along the way we have been blessed by the humor that can be found in our situation. We are a family that is determined to laugh, even at the most inappropriate times. So in the spirit of Father’s Day, I would like to share with you things we have learned that could be useful for those children whose parents have not yet rebelled.
Without a doubt, watching your father’s slow decline is one of life’s most difficult lessons. But I am grateful for the opportunities that it has given our family to test our mettle. We don’t talk family values: we live them.
My children accept responsibility for some of their grandfather’s care and are learning first hand why life is compared to a journey. Even their husbands, fiancées, and girlfriends have risen to the occasion to show Gran that he is worthy of their time and attention.
For the past three years, my husband has patiently accepted my frantic trips to Huntsville. I have promised him that one day we will live together again.
My sister-in-law has cared for Daddy as lovingly as she would her own parents. She gives generously of herself as she puts his needs first. I am forever in her debt.
And my brother has had to begin the slow, painful process of saying goodbye to someone who has been a part of his daily life for over 30 years. He has gently wrested the reins of store management from Daddy in such a way that Daddy thinks he is still in charge. What other son would have allowed an old man to retain his dignity while preserving and prospering the family business.
Sunday is Father’s Day. Across the country, children will be celebrating with their fathers and thanking them for all sorts of blessings. For us, The Great Malvini has escaped our grasp and knows only that his family loves him. Words aren’t really necessary any more. How much longer are we going to be on this road? “Till it ends.”
To my father with love.
One Saturday afternoon Daddy and I went for a leisurely ride through Jones Valley and over the mountain to Big Cove. He enjoys the beauty surrounding Huntsville’s hills and had never seen the new Target. He decided that he wanted to see where his older brother, Arthur, had once lived. After what seemed like a lifetime, including a detour at Honeydew Lane, I realized that we would never find Uncle Arthur’s old homestead because none of the old landmarks remained. Finally, I asked, “How much longer are we going to be on this road?” My sweet Daddy responded, “Till it ends.”
Our family is struggling with caring for a man who desperately wants to remain independent and in control. Unfortunately, his health and safety demands changes in the natural order of things. For those of you who know him well, you understand that wrestling a grizzly bear would be easier.
However, along the way we have been blessed by the humor that can be found in our situation. We are a family that is determined to laugh, even at the most inappropriate times. So in the spirit of Father’s Day, I would like to share with you things we have learned that could be useful for those children whose parents have not yet rebelled.
- If your father heeds the call of nature at the back of one of Homewood’s toniest restaurants, make certain that one son watches for cops while the other drives the get-away car.
- Do not fly with an old guy on Lasix.
- If you get a request to “Come quick and bring a couple of Band-Aids”, take gauze, Ace bandages, fuzzy wuzzy, mop and bucket.
- Throwing bread on the driveway for the birds attracts a million roaches. Watch your step at night.
- “I am going down to the store for a few minutes” translates to “I am running away and will not go home with you.”
- If the AC is even turned on, the thermostat will be on 85. This from a man who wears short-sleeved shirts all winter.
- A man is never too old for a girlfriend.
- Puzzle books are sent from God.
Without a doubt, watching your father’s slow decline is one of life’s most difficult lessons. But I am grateful for the opportunities that it has given our family to test our mettle. We don’t talk family values: we live them.
My children accept responsibility for some of their grandfather’s care and are learning first hand why life is compared to a journey. Even their husbands, fiancées, and girlfriends have risen to the occasion to show Gran that he is worthy of their time and attention.
For the past three years, my husband has patiently accepted my frantic trips to Huntsville. I have promised him that one day we will live together again.
My sister-in-law has cared for Daddy as lovingly as she would her own parents. She gives generously of herself as she puts his needs first. I am forever in her debt.
And my brother has had to begin the slow, painful process of saying goodbye to someone who has been a part of his daily life for over 30 years. He has gently wrested the reins of store management from Daddy in such a way that Daddy thinks he is still in charge. What other son would have allowed an old man to retain his dignity while preserving and prospering the family business.
Sunday is Father’s Day. Across the country, children will be celebrating with their fathers and thanking them for all sorts of blessings. For us, The Great Malvini has escaped our grasp and knows only that his family loves him. Words aren’t really necessary any more. How much longer are we going to be on this road? “Till it ends.”
To my father with love.
Monday, November 07, 2005
Where I Live
Where I Live…
I live in a small town in GA about 30 miles east of Atlanta.
Where I live…
Wal Mart was voted as the best place to buy women’s clothes.
You can’t take a cell phone inside a county office.
Getting a drivers license takes 6 hours and 15 minutes. One hour to drive to the DMV, four hours to wait, 15 minutes to get the license, and one hour to drive home.
English is rarely spoken at the DMV.
Kids go to college on the HOPE Scholarship which is funded by the lottery. Their parents are grateful to the people of AL for their contributions.
The local newspaper is published twice a week—once more than in Opp.
The Atlanta Journal Constitution’s Sunday edition can be purchased at Wal-Mart on Saturday.
Around the corner, an above-ground pool has pine trees growing in the deep end.
A subdivision is defined as new houses on a paved street in what was a pasture just last month.
Gas is cheaper than in AL because of fewer gas taxes.
State legislators make fun of AL then pass laws that would embarrass Alabamians.
Buddhists in Atlanta got upset because their leader had sex and a credit card.
The governor’s daughter divorced her husband to marry a state trooper. The legislature is working on a law to strengthen marriage.
You have to carefully time when you will drive through Atlanta.
The Waffle House on GA 316 is non-smoking.
North Georgia and South Georgia are as different as North Alabama and South Alabama.
Bold Springs, our little community, has two churches (Methodist and Baptist), a gas station, a tree farm, and a recycling center. We go to the Methodist church because the bathrooms are conveniently located near the sanctuary.
Six Flags hired lobbyists to pressure state legislators to force schools to open closer to Labor Day. It didn’t work.
There are a gazillion pine trees.
To celebrate Black History Month, the Atlanta Journal Constitution investigated the Martin Luther King Center. Seems that the place needs millions in repairs, has few employees, no real programs, and supports MLK’s sons with six figure incomes. I don’t think that was Martin’s dream.
Our neighborhood celebrates the Fourth of July with a tractor parade.
The governor, a veterinarian by trade, recently neutered a dog. He claimed it was in support of spay/neuter week, but I think he was trying to scare his political opponents.
Ashley Smith has written a book about her escape from the guy who killed courthouse personnel in Atlanta. First she claimed to have given him “A Purpose Driven Life.” Now we learn it was really crystal meth.
The runaway bride was really running away from writing 600 thank- you notes.
And the other day an official with Homeland Security arrested two vegans protesting outside Honeybaked Ham. He must have been an anti-hamite.
We like it here but are looking forward to your visit.
I live in a small town in GA about 30 miles east of Atlanta.
Where I live…
Wal Mart was voted as the best place to buy women’s clothes.
You can’t take a cell phone inside a county office.
Getting a drivers license takes 6 hours and 15 minutes. One hour to drive to the DMV, four hours to wait, 15 minutes to get the license, and one hour to drive home.
English is rarely spoken at the DMV.
Kids go to college on the HOPE Scholarship which is funded by the lottery. Their parents are grateful to the people of AL for their contributions.
The local newspaper is published twice a week—once more than in Opp.
The Atlanta Journal Constitution’s Sunday edition can be purchased at Wal-Mart on Saturday.
Around the corner, an above-ground pool has pine trees growing in the deep end.
A subdivision is defined as new houses on a paved street in what was a pasture just last month.
Gas is cheaper than in AL because of fewer gas taxes.
State legislators make fun of AL then pass laws that would embarrass Alabamians.
Buddhists in Atlanta got upset because their leader had sex and a credit card.
The governor’s daughter divorced her husband to marry a state trooper. The legislature is working on a law to strengthen marriage.
You have to carefully time when you will drive through Atlanta.
The Waffle House on GA 316 is non-smoking.
North Georgia and South Georgia are as different as North Alabama and South Alabama.
Bold Springs, our little community, has two churches (Methodist and Baptist), a gas station, a tree farm, and a recycling center. We go to the Methodist church because the bathrooms are conveniently located near the sanctuary.
Six Flags hired lobbyists to pressure state legislators to force schools to open closer to Labor Day. It didn’t work.
There are a gazillion pine trees.
To celebrate Black History Month, the Atlanta Journal Constitution investigated the Martin Luther King Center. Seems that the place needs millions in repairs, has few employees, no real programs, and supports MLK’s sons with six figure incomes. I don’t think that was Martin’s dream.
Our neighborhood celebrates the Fourth of July with a tractor parade.
The governor, a veterinarian by trade, recently neutered a dog. He claimed it was in support of spay/neuter week, but I think he was trying to scare his political opponents.
Ashley Smith has written a book about her escape from the guy who killed courthouse personnel in Atlanta. First she claimed to have given him “A Purpose Driven Life.” Now we learn it was really crystal meth.
The runaway bride was really running away from writing 600 thank- you notes.
And the other day an official with Homeland Security arrested two vegans protesting outside Honeybaked Ham. He must have been an anti-hamite.
We like it here but are looking forward to your visit.
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
She Said...She Said
Perception is everything. My daughter's perception of any and every situation is so different from mine that I often wonder if she was awake or even present. Over the past years she has, on several occasions, contacted her extensive distribution list of friends, showering them with the odd occurences in her life. Fortunately for them, I have sent them a clearer, more definitive account. I think they have appreciated my version of events, realizing that she left out the more interesting and colorful details.
Like most mothers and daughters, we approach life from different ends of the same spectrum. We let the values and experiences of our generation speak through us, and at times, the results expose a little more about ourselves than we first realized. What comes through so clearly is our love for one another and our ability to opine about everything.
Like most mothers and daughters, we approach life from different ends of the same spectrum. We let the values and experiences of our generation speak through us, and at times, the results expose a little more about ourselves than we first realized. What comes through so clearly is our love for one another and our ability to opine about everything.
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