Remembering the Summer of 1957...

The year was 1957, my primary goal in life was to play and have a good time, in that order.  My life consisted of books, bugs, imaginary friends, dirt and sand. It also had an abundance of dolls, dishes, dogs and wanted posters. A scoopful of criminals accompanied by cats, catalogs, cousins and paper...lots and lots of paper rounded out any given day.

My part of the world was decorated in all the colors found in a crayon box, especially red.  Life had a million shades of red accompanied by fireflies and fairies,  a spark of freedom and a dose of imagination found in a friend up the hill or across the street.  The fires of childhood imagination burned bright in us when we were 8 or 9 years old.

An unoccupied jail cell made a great playhouse when the summer heat beat down on the roofs of a small southern town in western Kentucky.  A town waiting for air conditioning to become the norm instead of the unusual. When the jail had 'visitors' the chicken coup behind the brick home was almost as much fun as a jail cell. I couldn't wait for the Henley kids to visit their grandparents.

A pile of sand became the local 'fairy garden'. Bricks painted gold glistened in the sun. They were the adobe homes of imaginary friends who flew instead of walked. Tin foil lakes allowed the fairies to swim in the moonlight. A curly haired little girl slept with her face in the window hoping to see the fairies dance in a circle, once before dawn.

The neighborhood trees and bushes donated flower blossoms from the pink and blue hydrangeas. I 'borrowed'  these from Mamamae's bush. Their blossoms became shrubs surrounding the golden homes.   Mrs. Klapp's lavender bush provided color and shade as the light purple flowers were turned into trees.  The subtle shade of orchid trees planted around the blue 'fairy lakes' gave the mound of sand a hint of magic. The scent of the trees mixed with the night air. Special rocks dug from the driveway of the post office were turned into gold and silver spray painted roads in my fairy kingdom. I believed that fairies would find my place of magic, if they had a shiny, glittering  road to follow.  I longed for this to be true

Although I never saw a 'real fairy' when I was young,  I believed they came each night and danced.  After I grew up and married, Tommy and I moved around the country. At each house or apartment I created some sort of fairy garden. When we finally settled down and bought a home, one of the first things I did in Spring was create a flower bed for fairies to enjoy. It is still alive with colors and few gold bricks. Birdbaths replaced the aluminum foil lakes. Wind chimes create music late into the night in hope that a wandering fairy will hear the music and feel the urge to dance. 

I will never know ...but I can wish.

                                                          

                                              one of many fairy gardens I have made. 2009

                         
                                       

                                           


                                                                      
  

When the Imagination Visits Home...

There is something special about going home. It doesn't matter if you have lived a lifetime away from the place of your birth,  if you were happy there,  sooner or later you will want to go home, if for nothing more than a visit.

A magnetic pull from some invisible force appears to draw a person home, if not physically then mentally. Either way the trip is the same. It is a walk into the yesterdays of a lifetime ago.  Today was such a day for me. I stayed in Missouri but my  thoughts were in Kentucky. They go there often, visiting places I used to play. Often I spend a few hours writing memories of loved ones and old friends. I ramble around in people's lives who happened to touch my life in some way. When this happens I remember voices, smells, colors and the music of my youth.

I loved living in the small, old shotgun house with my mother and my grandparents.  The picture above was taken after Mama sold the home place to the Methodists church. It may have been taken the last time Mama visited the house. Mama loved that house too. Mamamae had died the year before. She lived a long good life.  Granddaddy died suddenly when I lived in Yuma, Arizona. He was only 62 years old. I have already lived 2 years longer than he did.  At the time I thought he was old. Now when I look back I think he was so young and missed the last part of a long happy life. Memory and imagination change with time. I wish he could have lived longer.

As I look at the photo I see where the aluminum glider and rocking chair sat on the front porch for years,  are gone. They were placed in my back yard for about 20 years. Eventually rust and old age accompanied them to the dump.  The wooden flower boxes that were filled with petunias every summer are gone from the porch. I have no clue what happened to them. The beautiful maple tree that stood in the small front yard is still there in my imaginary trip. I thought it was the prettiest tree in Clinton when it changed colors in fall to a magnificent red. 

The house was torn down and turned into a parking lot. The maple tree had to be erased also to make way for cement and progress. That is just the way life goes. We can't keep anything forever. We, the human race,  reside in a constant state of letting go. That is the way it has to be because somewhere,  someone else is waiting to make new memories where our old memories lived.

Tommy's Shark Tale...His Version...

For the past several years I have been in the process of writing the stories of our life. Someday, I hope to turn these stories into a book for family and friends. I also write about our lives because if I die first, Tommy will never get these stories right!  We have two different versions on most things that have occurred. Mine is usually right:)

However, when I wrote the story about Tommy getting his first big shark, I got some of it wrong. Truthfully, I missed the whole story about how they landed the shark. I totally misunderstood until I saw the pictures Tommy took with his disposable camera.

When I looked at the photos I asked Tommy, "What is the shark doing on the sand. Why are you so wet and where is the boat???"  Somewhere while Tommy and Lisle were telling the story, I misunderstood everything concerning how they actually landed the shark. I remember thinking as I wrote the story the first time, "Wow it is a miracle they didn't turn the boat over when they pulled the shark into the boat."  Then I got a visual of a live shark in the boat with Tommy and Lisle and shook my head at the things men do and call it fun.


                                           

Here is Tommy's version of how he got his first shark.  "They were fishing in about five feet of water when they caught the shark. He put up quite a fight. The shark took the bait and went under the boat trying to turn the boat over. (They were in a 14 ft. john boat) 

The shark turned around and started going out into the ocean. However, because there were several big boats around; the boats made waves that took the john boat and the shark back in closer to the beach.  The shark was trying to eat the boat when Lisle cut his gills to bleed him out. This slowed the shark down but still he fought as long as he could.  Finally when the boat was in about two feet of water both Lisle and Tommy jumped out of the boat into the ocean...with the shark. The shark was loosing his life's blood and had slowed down on the fighting. That is when they drug him up on the beach and killed him."

That is one heck of a true story...we have pictures to prove it!!  How I missed most of that story I do not know. I would blame it on the tequila we toasted with, but I didn't have enough to mess up my memory. 

                                

This was a wonderful experience for Tommy and Lisle.  It made Tommy's vacation. He still talks about his 7 foot, 125 pound shark he caught in Florida. And now when I tell his story, I have the facts and I can tell it correctly.  For that fact alone, Tommy is thrilled.


                                      

One of Those Nights When Heaven Provided a Magic Show...

Nights in southern Florida are beautiful by any standard. While visiting Lisa and Lisle we made a point of walking 'Little Girl', their dog nightly around 9 p.m. The day was over and the night shift was in the process of taking over the sky.

The week we were there it was a full moon. At night Mother Nature played in the sky. Each and every sunset, whether on the bridge going to Marco Island, at the ocean or in their back yard was an artist competition everyone could attend.

The flowers smell better at night. The heat of the day is over, there has either been a pop up thunder storm or home owners have watered their plants. The smell of night jasmine fills the air at one home. Down the street another flower will be enticing the air with aromas unknown but bewitching to the nostrils.

As we walk down the street we see the night reflected in all the canals. The sky looks as beautiful in the water as it does in the heavens.  The full moon casts golden ripples on the canal water. 

One night while we were staring at the moon, a meteor began its descent to extinction. It was under the moon and to the far right as it began to move across the heavens. I have never seen a meteor last that long. Although it moved quickly, time stopped for us as we watched the meteor sail across the sky,  leaving a long tail behind. After it had passed the moon and was on its downward spiral, it did the most amazing thing.  It broke into 3 meteors and each one moved across the sky like a well planned Fourth of July fireworks display.  As quickly as the meteor appeared and soared for maybe 30 seconds, it was gone. We watched as each tail and rock disappeared forever. The sight left us all amazed and filled with some of the magic we had just witnessed.

There are some sights, some smells, some touches, and a few kisses that need to be stashed in the corner of our mind that belongs only to the magic in our lives. That night was one I have stored away for safe keeping. It can be summoned quickly when I need a dose of the awesome power of the heavens. 

No One Needs a Perfect Body to Enjoy the Ocean...Thank God!!!

 

The ocean is my favorite place to visit. In fact, it would be therapeutic for me to  live on the coast for at least a few months each year. To be a member of a  writer's group who met somewhere near the ocean would indeed be helpful. My mind responds to the sounds and smells of the wind and the waves.  Stories and memories come easy there. I feel freer there than anywhere.

My muse and I both know the ocean is good for me. It relieves the stress I carry around in my mind and in my neck.  It does a miracle massage on my body and lifts my spirits until I feel like a kid again. For me, it is the whole healing package compiled in beautiful drops of blue, green, and turquoise colors belonging to rippled salt water. I like the feel of sand between my toes and the smell of ocean water on my skin. I wish I could bottle that smell just for me.

Most people at the ocean are uninhibited by their looks and actions. They are on a mission to enjoy life in its basic home. Each person trying to soak up a wonderful dose of freedom.  Generally, the people I have met at the Naples Pier seldom speak English. They probably can but choose not to. I completely understand their train of thought. I do not talk a lot when I am at the ocean, either.  I try to absorb every color, smell, or touch I can by any means possible. I savor these emotions to be conjured up again on days when I am back in Missouri and the snow or mud is knee deep. The temperature is  hovering around 20 degrees, with winds blowing from the west and north dropping the wind chill into the single digits. I have a feeling most of the visitors are doing the same thing as I am.

The older people on the beach do not care how they look. I like that idea very much...mainly because I am an older person. I had my day of wearing the red bikini and having a tan to die for. Now it is freeing and liberating to be exactly the way I am without caring what anyone else thinks. Life is a gift to every person and it is given in stages. We couldn't contain all the magic if we received everything all at once. We absorb what we can digest at the time. We file the rest away to be used when the time is right. Life comes in dribs and drabs and in days, weeks and years. It comes and it goes...

While I was studying the ocean and  thinking about life, I spotted a lady and her daughter who were from Germany.  We had spoken while in the ocean when several dolphins swam by us. They put their umbrella and towels in the vicinity of where Lisa and I were setting.  Both women were wearing bikinis. The daughter firm and tan. The mother still looked good to be in her 50's. She didn't have her daughter's body nor did her daughter have her mother's memories or experiences. It was a fair trade off.

In front of them sat 3 teenage boys, who were in and out of the water, oggling  the pair of ladies behind them. This scene played out all over the beach. 

After several dips in the ocean, I was so relaxed I slept for awhile. I could hear laughter and the ocean far, far away in the back of my mind. It was a good place to be in the circle of my life.

                     

                                            

A Day of Unusual Mixtures...

Today was a good day in my neck of the woods. We made an early run to Columbia for a blood draw at the V.A. 

As we were driving back to Fulton we finally found the lost home we have tried to locate for the past several months. We first saw the house and its yard a couple of months ago as we were driving on a county road.  The people who owned the home had recently planted palm trees in their front yard. Six or eight trees about eight feet tall. The whole scene looked surreal. Winter had not completely left Missouri. Spring was dragging her feet about moving in and this family planted palm trees!  The snow was gone but would make a couple repeat appearances before winter decided to let spring play. I looked at the trees and could not believe what I was seeing. 

The palm trees are beautiful but not robust.  They look lost in Missouri. The trees have an uneasy look as though they are not comfortable in their own dirt. Of course I had to have pictures, after our third trip by the house I had enough shots to prove my point,  the trees are not happy. And then my camera died. Battery was totally done! My 'stalking' was finished for the day.

 It is absolutely none of my business what these people do with their yard. If they drove by my house, they would probably wonder why I have a red boat in my back yard filled with flowers!  No one owes me an explanation but I sure would like to know why they planted these expensive trees in the wrong state.

Our final stop was the laundromat. Until I get my laundry room finished, we do laundry in town. That place is always an adventure. It may be an unconscious ploy on my part to keep putting off fixing the laundry room. I like the characters I meet at the laundromat and I think I would miss the people who come in to do their laundry. Plus Tommy and I adore Bobby who works there. Today was his day off and we missed seeing him. There could be a sitcom written about what all goes on in this curious place.

However, true to form it wasn't long before I was engaged  in a rather interesting conversation with a lady and her dog. I seldom ask anyone their name, but before my laundry was done I knew her whole life story. She is disabled and lives with four dogs and five cats. All the time we were talking she held a dachshund in her lap. The little dog never barked or offered to get down. He was quite content where he sat. I complimented her on how well behaved the little dog was. She smiled and told me not to touch him. Apparently he is old and grumpy and does not care for strangers.  I know exactly how he feels, there are days I feel the same way.

As we talked she asked me if I went to church. I told her I did but not regularly. That is about the time I spilled our bottle of detergent and said, "Oh S**T"!  I looked at the lady and she smiled and said, "You should think about going more often." I let that one pass.

By now all the laundry is in the dryers and we are once again in a conversation about her dogs.  She told me that every Sunday night and Wed. night she takes her dog to church.  That struck me as funny and I laughed. Smiling she informed me he 'likes' church. I thought on this for a minute. I have never been to a church where there were dogs. Not once. Then she proceeded to tell me his favorite part is communion.  Evidently, he sleeps through the sermon and wakes up for communion.   Again I smile and bite my tongue. I had so many replies for that one it was really hard to let it pass. I knew the pastor would never give the dog communion. I also began to wonder about the lady I was talking to. Finally I can't leave well enough alone and I say, " so what do you do with the dog during communion?"  Still smiling, she says she gives him Pepsi and crackers....he doesn't know the difference. 

I am pretty sure I have spent the past two hours talking to an ex patient from where I used to work. She was nice, we had fun and a few laughs.  Before I left, I asked her if by chance did she live on a county road in a fairly new home with palm trees planted in her front yard?  She said, "Why no, but it sounds lovely."

Yep, I bet we know a lot of the same people and that is a good thing as far as I am concerned.



 

What a Ride...

I think today was the worst Summer storm I have driven in during the past 10 years. Yesterday was nice, cloudy at times and breezy. We knew the storms were on the way and would eventually reach our area. Twisters  gave Oklahoma another round of anxiety as the storms formed and dropped in several places, moving on to vex the next area. Chaos was the general rule, as the clouds moved across state after state. Missouri had storms with heavy rain and wind last night. People scurried for cover. Cars pulled off the roads. Eighteen wheelers  pulled into rest areas. Sometimes the best a person can do is just not good enough when there are no safe places.

This morning when I woke up the clouds looked ominous. The sky was still dark at 7:30 a.m.  I had made plans to spend today with Jacy and Logan in Centralia.  I decided to get on the road and try beating the storm. I looked at the radar and knew we had a doozie of a storm coming soon. I was counting on out running the storm. As I drove closer to Kingdom City I knew I had made a big mistake. The sky was black with periodic flashes of lightening. I was on a quarter tank of gas and needed to fill up.  When I got out of the car at the gas station the air surrounding me was tangible and prickly.  It's  presence was so close I could feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up as the wind gave me a rogue kiss.

People were pulling into truck stops, restaurants and quick shops to wait out the storm. As soon as I had paid for my gas, the storm hit. It didn't rain, it poured bucket after bucket of blinding water on everyone in sight. I wanted to put some distance between me and Kingdom City. That is one of the last places I want to be when a tornado touches down. It is a rest stop off  I-70, consisting of restaurants, truck plazas and motels. If a tornado ever hits Kingdom City and its gas pumps, there  will not be anything left that is even remotely recognizable.

I did  not want to be there when it happened.  As I pulled onto the road I could only see about three car lengths in front of me. I drove slowly for about three miles, flashers on, wipers going ninety to nothing and the defroster on high. Still it was almost impossible to see anything. I pulled over and waited, and waited and waited. There was no let up. Semis pulled back on the road to try and stay on schedule.  They couldn't see either.

Eventually I arrived in Mexico. The sky was lighter and the rain was not as blinding.  However, it had rained so hard the storm drains and culverts were over run with water they could not hold. The streets were flooded on the lowest side. Everyone wanted to drive the high side no matter what direction they were going. I really wanted out of my car and on dry land...somewhere.

18 miles from Mexico is Centralia. When I saw the city sign I wanted to kiss it. I had made it. In a few blocks I would be with my grand babies. It usually takes me one hour to drive to Centralia. Today it was over 2 1/2 hours. Jeez!!!  Just think tomorrow I am going home and the weather may be the same and I will get to do this all over again!!!