I am a left handed, right brained person in a right handed, left brain world...and there is not one thing I can do about it except try and adjust and fit in somewhere.
Most things in my world, as a child, were geared toward the right handed people. Desks at school were for using the right hand. My left arm hung in space as I tried to make my paper stay on the desk top. Wire rimmed notebooks were all made for right handed people. I had to adjust to the wire always being in my way when I wrote. Scissors never fit my hand...so I used my right hand. My cutting was never neat and pretty but it worked. Now things are geared for everyone. I bought a left handed refrigerator. At the time I purchased it, I didn't pay any attention to that fact. I picked out what was natural for me. When it was delivered, Tommy wanted to know why the refrigerator was 'goofed up'. That was the first time I noticed the door handle.
I was very fortunate growing up. My grandparents and mother accepted my preference for being left handed and seldom tried to change my hand of choice. The one exception was eating. Everyone was determined that I use my right hand when eating. Since it was my job to set the table, I set it with everything on the left side. That made sense to me. After the blessing was said, Mamamae, Granddaddy and Mama would readjust their table setting so it was compatible with their right handed style. Finally I made the adjustment and began to use my right hand to eat. Most of the time I still do this. It was easier on everyone if I fit in with them.
When I was a little girl I never cared if my shoes were on the wrong feet or if I was wearing my dress backwards. I had fairies to find, crooks to catch, pictures to paint and stories to read. My day was full. The grown up version of me is still that way.
Like everyone else there are things that come easy and natural to me. I tend to be artistic, creative and a dreamer, a clown, a priest, and a poet. I am a writer of fact and fiction, blending the two until they are one. Need help with a problem concerning your emotional heart...ask me. I may not be able to fix your problem but I have all the empathy you need to recover and perfect shoulders to cry on. These are all traits of the right brain thinker.
The oddities in life snag my attention. Corporate America never once held any infatuation with me. Tommy used to tease me about the fact that if the fate of the industrialized world had been in my hands we would still be living in caves. That may be true but they would be the prettiest caves on the planet. We would all have flower and vegetable gardens, lakes to fish in and backyards for playing. Not one bomb would have been invented.
As for things I can not do, I have accepted the fact that I will never understand algebra or speak the computer language. This comes easy for left brain thinkers. I argue with the facts. Most of the time they make absolutely no sense to me. My poor algebra teacher Mrs. Haynes tried her best to make me see in black and white. I tried, I really did but I do not have an analytical mind. I need color preferably lots of reds and yellows.
It always seemed to me algebra was wrong. Why would anyone create a problem like 2x=___y. Really??? What was the x and y?? And why on earth would anyone want 2 of them?? If you found the answer to the equation...then what would you do with it?? There has to be an easier way to do this. Poor Mrs. Haynes hated to see me raise my hand in class. She knew we were all in trouble that day because my reason and logic did not apply to algebra. She was right. Once Mrs. Haynes began explaining a 'problem' to me, my eyes glazed over and I became 'hearing impaired'.
Computers are another mystery to me. I know what I need to know to navigate around the Internet and write a blog. If I hit a wrong button I am in a world of hurt. It happens more often than I care to admit. Copy and paste does not compute in my head. I seldom 'drag' anything and have it end up where it should be.
I have made peace with the fact that I will never crochet, write a computer program or make a speech in another language . Nor will I build anything that requires the use of algebra. I know all the math I need and I use it every week. I am content to write stories and look for new adventures in my corner of the world. I admire the left brain people. What would we do without them?? They created the world I live in. Hmmmm, and there is where we might have another slight problem:)
I love the photo of Tami at the left with dandelions stuck in her helmet while she is getting ready to fire her M-16... cracks me up. That is so very much Tami's personality.
I should not have been surprised that one of our daughters would want to join the military...but I was. Our girls were raised in a very pro military family, I did not see an enlistment in anyone's future.
As a family, we love our country. I seldom hear the song "America, America" that I don't tear up. A flag will forever fly in our front yard. We are proud of our men and women in the armed forces. What would we do without their service? When Tommy and I married he had already been in the Marines for two years. He always says I served the last two years with him. We had a great time together. I would do it all again without hesitation.
However, when Tami came home one day and said she wanted to join the National Guard, that was another story all together. First thing I thought of was, "No, you can get shot or killed! It's not safe! You will be gone a long time. I will miss you. Don't go." I kept those thoughts to myself, for a little while, as Tami talked about all the advantages of enlisting.
Finally, she said," Mama what should I do?" It was by far the hardest question anyone has ever asked me. I found it difficult to give an honest answer. Millions of answers came to mind. "Do it, make those memories!!! One day when you are old, you will look back on your life and tell your children, " I can take apart and reassemble an M-16 in record time. I served my country proudly." She would visit places around the world that I will never see. Always it came back to 'she could get killed'.
Finally, I told her this was one decision she had to make on her own. We talked about the advantages of signing up and we talked about the unknown things that could go wrong. We told her we would support her either way. We talked about 'commitment' and about the length of time she would have to serve. An eight year commitment is a long time for a 19 or 20 year old to have to plan a life around. She was in love. How would that affect their future? A whole lot of unknowns from a mother's perspective.
She enlisted making us very proud and very nervous. I remember a call from boot camp one night, I was sure her instructor would kill her when she got off the phone. I heard the instructor yell at Tami to " Hang that damn phone up, Your time is through!!" Tami yelled back at him, "I just got on the phone my time isn't up!!" I could just see those beautiful brown eyes snap at the man as she yelled. Then silence as he slammed the phone down. I started crying and Tommy started laughing. He said, " I told her they would try and break that Carter temper!" She was in trouble and there was nothing I could do.
That was a long night for me as I wondered what on earth was happening to her in boot camp!!
I think this photo was taken when she went to South Dakota. She also was sent to Panama and to Honduras. That makes me very proud.
Their outfit did a humanitarian rotation in Honduras to help rebuild after a hurricane went through the region causing a tremendous amount of damage. Tami's unit provided military police security for the engineers as they rebuilt roads and bridges. She called one day and I heard gunshots in the background. I asked her what was going on and she said, "There is often sporadic. shooting in the mountains. It's the rebels" Hmmmm, That girl knew how to make me pray!!
I think this photo was taken in Honduras. She also took a photo of her bunk below...a little different from her apartment back home. Honduras changed Tami's outlook on life, at that time. She saw abject poverty. When she came home she gave away most of what she had. She had seen people live with little or nothing. She realized that as blessed as we are, we really do have more than we need. She still gives freely to people in need.
My daughter Tami is one of my heroes. Tommy and I used to say, "Tell Tami no and watch her go." She still is very much wired that way. She is strong, confident and seldom afraid. Life for her is an adventure to be lived out loud. Happy Veteran's Day Darlin'...you made us proud.
Love you,
Mama
It is common knowledge that the President of the United States and I see the world completely different. I seldom, if ever, agree with him on anything. I can say the same thing about most politicians in office now. Washington D.C. needs to be purged, hosed down and disinfected. However, this is only my opinion and we all know how much weight this fact carries...one vote to be exact.
Obamacare is front and center in the news and on most people's mind. Insurance, or lack of insurance, effects us all eventually. Tommy and I both have our own insurance and we are satisfied with what we have.
While I was in California we received a letter from Pres. Obama's team explaining his program and how it affected us. I didn't find out about this until I had been home a week. Tommy and I were watching the news and the news media kept talking about 'letters' that had been sent to the public. I wondered if our letter had been lost in the mail. Tommy said, "No we received a letter while you were gone. I threw it in the trash!" Lightening flashed, the heavens thundered and out poured....
Me "You threw it in the trash????"
Him "Yes, as far as I was concerned it didn't pertain to us."
Me "So what exactly did it say?"
Him "Same old mumbo jumbo government crap."
Me "Is our insurance changing?"
Him "I doubt it."
Me "But you don't know for sure???"
Him "It is nothing to worry about."
Me " Tommy, I think this is one of those letters we should have read."
Him "Well go ahead and worry if it will make you feel better."
Me Hmmmmm... forty million answers ran through my mind.
None of them were nice!
I needed to come up with a game plan before Dec.31...
As for the letter, it is at the bottom of a landfill with thousands of pounds of filth, garbage and junk on top of it. Rest in peace...tomorrow I will find out what that little piece of paper really stated. Truthfully, I hope it was trash. However, 'something' tells me Tommy may be wrong this time.
It was October 31, 1969. Tommy and I had been dating since the beginning of summer. We broke up in high school and did not speak to each other for two years. When we finally did reconnect, we knew we were supposed to be together. I think he asked me to marry him during his third trip home. We had an understanding but had not set the date.
He was in the Marine Corps and I was going to college. He was stationed at NAS Atlanta which was attached to Dobbins Air Force Base. To get from there to Clinton, Ky. took at least 8 hours. He made the trip every weekend that he could. We talked to each other almost every night and of course we wrote letters that I still reread from time to time. Those letters are priceless to me. It is funny and touching to see the world through 20 year old eyes again. As the old saying goes, "We didn't know, what we didn't know".
..and that was probably a good thing.
Tommy picked me up around 5 p.m. We were going to Kathy and Jim McClure's apartment. She was my best friend. They had gotten married in September, I think.
Tommy, who is never at a loss for words, was quiet that evening. I knew he and my mother had talked on Friday before I got home. Mama was doing a lot of smiling and Daddy was as grumpy as always where Tommy was concerned.
We went shopping and bought a music album for Kathy and Jim. That was our first and last disagreement of the night. He wanted to buy a country album and I wanted to get a rock album. He won, since he was paying, however I was sure Kathy wouldn't like it. I was right. She didn't but James did.
On our way to Kathy's, Tommy pulled over and reached in the backseat and bought out a ring box. I was shocked. I thought he was giving me his class ring. When he opened the box there were my wedding rings. He slipped it on my finger and just like that we were engaged. I remember he apologized to me because the proposal didn't go like he wanted. He wanted a nice romantic setting and I wanted to go see Kathy. She knew about the ring so Tommy had to give me the ring before we went to their house. That was why he was so quiet. He couldn't get the timing right and he wanted it to be perfect. I thought it was perfect.
After we left Kathy and James' place, we decided to get a mixed drink to celebrate our engagement. Both of us got 'screwdrivers', made a crazy toast and we rode around for awhile. We threw the bottles and 1 cap away. The other cap rolled under the seat. Daddy found it the next morning.
Engaged, 20 years old and soon to be married, I suddenly found myself 'grounded'. I couldn't believe it!!! I could not take my car on dates anymore. We made do, Tommy has a big family and I think we borrowed a car from just about everyone.
Daddy never did warm up to Tommy. Never liked him at all. That's alright I loved Tommy enough for ten people. We did get the car back the week we got married and Daddy signed the title over to Tommy since he was 21. We drove that car to Georgia on Dec.26, 1969 after we were married. We drove it in July 1970 to Yuma, Arizona and everywhere we wanted for the next four years.
We tease each other a lot. Friendship is the glue that has held us together when things got rough. We often tease about whether it was a 'trick or treat' Halloween in 1969...treat always wins:)
Every year, for the past 20 years, the month of October is a battlefield at my home. The enemy are thousands and thousands of little dastardly bugs shown on the left. I call them Japanese Beetles because I really don't know what kind of bugs they are. Usually they arrive after a cold spell. When the cold spell ends and the day becomes warm, they have a party at my house. They arrive suddenly and swarm the house, the windows any place that is warm or open. They make themselves at home. As soon as we open the door, they attach themselves to our clothing, our hair, and any body part not covered. When one bug makes it in, he or she calls for reinforcements and the war is on!!
For the next few weeks we will literally fight these bugs. We spray the outside of the house and it works until it rains...it rained last night and is still raining. I hope they drown, but I know they won't.
They arrived over the past two days. In fact they are late this year. I bragged to Tommy that I thought we had finally killed them all. Only to open the door and get smacked in the face by these stinking bugs. They really do stink. They give off a scent that smells like dirt. Nasty, nasty dirt!!! Twenty killed can make a room stink. I would know that smell anywhere.
Yesterday was our first major battle. They engulfed my sun room. To say I was mad is an understatement of the first caliber!! I was frantic. The only spray I had left was 'flea spray' and that worked. They dropped from the ceiling, crawled into the windows before I could get them all shut. They also landed in my hair giving me the creepy crawlies. Two showers finally rid my mind of the varmints. Today I literally vacuumed the bugs out of the window sills and everywhere else I could reach. I cleaned on my room for 2 hours. Right now it is beetle free...until it stops raining and warms up. I have had candles lit all day to rid the room of the 'dirty' smell. When I go in there I can still smell it.
This fight will go on for another week. Since they arrived so late I am hoping the cold weather will freeze them out. Now all it has to do is turn COLD! I am all for that.
In my corner of the world, things could be so much worse. I should be happy that life is good and the beetles are a minor inconvenience. I should feel that way and for the most part I do but I have to admit I hate those little S**** and I hope they all die...tonight!!
Not all seasons are created equal in Missouri. We never know what to expect from Mother Nature, one year to the next, in this middle of nowhere state.
Winters can be knee deep in snow for months at a time, or mild with only a little snow scattered here and there.
Spring can arrive early and stay late. It can rain all season giving farmers nightmares trying to plant their crops; or winter can linger through Spring and suddenly jump to a mild start of Summer omitting most of Spring all together. Turkey's seldom know when to mate. They just take their best shot and hope for the best.
Summers in Missouri are always humid. The kind of humid that greets your skin at 7 a.m. and licks it furiously all day. People wait for sunset and hope for a slight wind to erase a miserable day. On occasion, the Summer of 93, it started raining one night in early June and did not stop for months. We also have had summers where the heat and drought were so horrible, people had to sell most of their animals because they could not produce enough food for them that early in the year. The fields were burning up as they tried to grow. Farming is a gamble in Missouri.
The Fall of 2012 was exceptionally beautiful. The colors were vivid, bold and beautiful. The oranges, the reds, and the gold vied for they eye's attention as the leaves began to change. The most amateur of photographer's captured amazing photos. The trees begged to be photographed daily.
As far as I was concerned, the tree at the right was the most beautiful autumn tree in Callaway County last year. This year not so much. If it peaked it must have done it the week I was in California. It looks nothing like the photo this year.
The fall of 2013 has slipped in, quietly. The trees were slow to change colors. The boldest, by far, have been the oak trees. Their million shades of yellow have lit up the somber forests. Last week, red maple trees seemed to burst out for a few days. There are multitudes of green trees, slowly turning brown.
The soft maple tree in my front yard is loosing her leaves. There is a tinge of yellow to the tree but it is predominately going from green to brown instead of showing off as she usually does in her dress of yellow ochre.
Tomorrow we are going to ride the back roads again. There are a few creeks I want to check out and see how the colors are reflecting in the water. I am still in search of the prettiest tree in Callaway County. So far, nothing I have seen has beaten the beauty of the Fall of 2012. I am still searching and it is still October. Missouri may pull it off yet, however this year I have my doubts.
The woman walking into the laundromat had stooped shoulders and a slow gait. Her hair was graying, hanging around her face in a haphazard, listless way. There was no cut or style to the hair rather a resigned feeling that today it got brushed and that was enough to ask for one day. She walked slowly looking at the floor. Her eyes never left the few feet of carpet in front of her. Walking with a cane in her right hand, it appeared to help keep her balance. In her left hand, she carried her laundry in a black garbage bag. The clothes she wore were dated and frayed. She did not carry a purse. Trailing four feet behind her was a little boy roughly nine years old. They did not appear to be together.
It took two washers for her laundry, one for whites and the other dark clothes. She dug a coin purse out of her jacket pocket, purchasing two small boxes of detergent. Finally she settled at the table behind me to wait for the machines to clean her clothes. The little boy had gone to check out the soda machines. Eventually he found his way back to the lady. He wanted money for a Diet Coke. She paused a long time before she answered. Then in a lovely, educated voice she began to talk to her grandson. Her voice did not align with her presence. They were worlds apart. Something had happened to the woman to change the course of her life.
"You know I live on very limited means. Everything I spend has to account something. If I buy a soda then I have to give up something else." The little boy nodded that he understood. She looked him in the eye as she talked and gave him the $1.25 he needed. Her eyes warmed as he smiled. She went on to say, "I wish things were different. I wish I could buy you whatever you want but I can't. I just can not." He nodded in agreement.
The little boy took the money and marched up to the soda machine. He put his money in, accidentally pushing the wrong button. Out came an orange soda. He looked at the soda a long time before he picked it up. He hated orange sodas. Tears were in his eyes as he walked back to his grandmother. He gave her the soda. She told him that she didn't want the soda, he could have it. Then he told her what he had done. Again she was quiet as she weighed the pros and cons of another $1.25 spent on nothing. She said, "I will go help you get your soda." While she was there she bought another Diet Coke. This made $3.75 they had spent on something frivolous, on something she could no afford.
As they sat waiting for the washer to finish, the grandmother began to talk about money. She asked him if he remembered last week when she was at his house and she only had two candy bars and there were three children at the house? He said he remembered that Joey cried because he didn't have his own candy bar. She nodded in agreement saying, "I didn't handle that correctly. I shouldn't have given two candy bars to three children." He interrupted her to say, "That was ok, we shared." The grandmother complemented him on his insight and behavior, however she was afraid that Joey would have a bad memory of her because he did not have his own candy bar. Children are like that. They sat in silence for awhile.
She lovingly watched her grandson as he drank his soda. Finally, they decided the other two sodas would be given to his little brothers. Hesitantly, she asked him if he was hungry. He was. Again she began to figure her money. She decided they would go home and she would fix him some lunch. She couldn't afford to eat out and spend the extra gas to drive across town. She wished she could but she couldn't. Every cent she had left needed to last her until the first of the month and today was the twenty second. That left nine days.
Slowly, she folded her dry clothes and replaced them in the garbage bag. The weight of the world seemed to be on her shoulders as they walked out the door. She was doing the best she could, inside she ached for more.
