The End of Summer - Tuesday

I'm not sure about you, but what can more nostalgic than a funeral? A reunion maybe, but isn't that what funeral turns into? It did for me. On Tuesday, I drove to Atlanta to celebrate the life of my cousin, Florida Hatcher Cobb, 88 years young.

My great-grandfather had three wives and each wife had two children. Florida was the daughter of his first child and my grandfather the son of the second wife, making them second cousins, I think. Whenever the McCrary's get together we go through the same process, explaining to the next generation or two how each is related and who had what grandmother.

Being with my grandfather's family brought back so many memories including my first reunion in 1964 when I was fourteen. Held at a lake outside of Atlanta, we shared two cabins. No one missed the reunion. I came home with two things, pictures of my mother and her cousins dressed in short shorts standing arm and arm and me with sores under both knees from riding a wood board that was being pulled by a motor boat. To make matters worse, my parents made a quick stop in Destin Beach on our way home and stayed at the Capri By the Sea; a cinder block motel that was right on the beach. It was the first time I saw the Gulf of Mexico. The salt water was not good for the sores on my knees which still today can be seen.

I love my McCrary family. With emails, Facebook and letters I keep up as much as possible. I was honored to plan the 2005 reunion in Chattanooga. I missed the 2000 in Mobile, but had my whole family at the 1995 in Montgomery, AL. We chose that sight because as decedents of E. W. McCrary, my great-grandfather, it seemed fitting to be near his home in Orville, AL, called Crumptomia. A plantation now owned by Mennonites who graciously let us tour the home in '95.

But Tuesday was different. Solemn and yet tenderhearted; we talked a lot about Florida and her wonderful spirit and determination, not unlike her precious mother my Aunt Sissy, which was short for Sister, her family nickname. Everyone had a nickname that had no rhyme or reason. Florida's was Aunt Bobby. I never knew why my Mamma called her that. And so we did too until recently. I saw cousins, and my great Aunt Frances who will be 90 on January 6th. We are planning a party for her in Birmingham but she says no, that she is moving so no party. We say something else. This is the woman who was the president of the United States Post Office Auxiliary in 1979 and flew to a national convention in Denver and took time to visit me and my family while there. She is also the person that took a Greyhound bus and rode all the way from Birmingham alone to come to my wedding.

So it was a few hours of my time there and back...so what? It was worth a million hours to be with my family. I was there for my mother and her father, representing them at my cousin's funeral. I was there for Cindy and Jim and there families as they mourn their mother. I was there for myself to remember who I am and where I came from. I cry at weddings and smile at funerals. Call me odd, but I don't care. I am nothing without these memories of my family.

The End of Summer - Monday

Today was the first day of school for Paige. She will go three days a week now and is in the "Sunshine" class at her preschool. Her daddy takes her to school and I pick her up so I needed to be there to introduce myself to her teachers. I also help out when I can at parties and special events since her mommy and daddy work full time. The plan was to all meet at 10:00.

I arrived first with baby Hayden coming down from the mountain; Debbie was next coming from her office in N. Chattanooga, carrying with her Paige's school supplies. Daniel and Paige arrived last coming from their home in N. Georgia. Debbie offered to carry Hayden in his car seat into the classroom. An offer I gladly accepted. (You'd know why if you ever had to lift one with a baby.)

Paige practically ran into her new classroom and barely said hello to her new teachers before exploring the different learning centers and settling in the homemaker section, doing what she likes best pretending to cook, clean, and play house along with two new friends. Debbie and Daniel sat with all the other parents at the child-size tables filling out forms.

I stood next to Hayden just inside the door. Leaning against the door frame, watching Paige and her enthusiasm I was brought back to some of my first days of school and in particular the year I was in third grade. Mamma insisted we take a picture dressed in our school clothes on the first day of school. I remember that even though my little sister was too young for school, she was in all the pictures and so it is fun now to look back at the three of us at the end of each summer.

My summers were a mix bag between Girl Scout camp, swimming lessons at the City Park pool, my treehouse in the backyard, forts in the woods by the railroad tracks, and sleepovers at my grandparent's house. But probably the most influential thing I did over the years each summer was to spend a week to six weeks in Jackson, Mississippi with my Great Aunt Lorraine and Uncle Phares. It would take a series of blogs to share those days, but the summer before third grade was life-changing. I cut my hair. Or I should say, Aunt Lorraine cut it - much to Mamma's dismay.

I had long thick brown hair that was naturally wavy and so I wore it in a ponytail and when it got hot I had a halo of curls that surrounded my face. Mamma loved my halo of curls, but Aunt Lorraine thought my hair was too heavy for my little face so she took me to her beauty parlor and asked her hairdresser to cut it all off, in a pixie style. She then took me to a dress shop and bought me some new dresses for school.

When Mamma and Daddy came to get me they were horrified at my new haircut. I remember feeling such shame and embarrassment which was just the opposite of the way I felt the day I had it cut - free and light and happy. A few weeks later I dressed for school in one of my new dresses, a cream-colored sleeveless cotton shirt waste with bright colored umbrellas printed all over it. Standing in the front yard with my brother and sister Mamma took our "first day of school" picture and smiled. She said I looked beautiful and I realized she was not mad anymore about my hair cut and that she loved me no matter how I looked.

Standing there in Paige's classroom on her first day of school, dressed in her new jeans, pink shirt, new school shoes, and surrounded by new friends I imagined what she would remember about that day. That her Mommy and Daddy and Mimi loved her and saw how beautiful she was? I hope so.

The End of Summer - Sunday

What is it about the end of summer that makes one nostalgic? This week seems to be a week of memories from my past. It began on Sunday morning when I woke before dawn. I walked out on the back porch to enjoy the silence and was first greeted with out-of-the-norm cool temperatures and then no silence.

Our pond had a frog and he was croaking just enough to keep the crickets, tree frogs, and other insects flustered. If I closed my eyes I was instantly brought back to a time when my parents had a camp at False River, north of Baton Rouge. Sleeping on the back porch, the smell of the water, the sounds on the lake came to me instantly. I was reminded of those wonderful days when my biggest problem was what swim suit to wear the next day, because we lived in our suits and brought several with us each time we made the weekend trips. I hated when summer was over and trips to False River ended. I was so afraid we wouldn't have a camp the next summer. All of that came back to me listening to the frog in my pond.

Later I decided to cook my Mamma's homemade potato soup for lunch. The smell of onions and potatoes always bring back good memories of my mother. It didn't matter if I woke up to the smell of her soup cooking or came home from school and see her standing at the stove smashing the onions and potatoes, the steam spiraling high up above the big pot, it always made me feel grounded. This was Mamma's go to meal when someone was sick. She'd pour it into an old glass mayonnaise jar and deliver it that day, sometimes while still warm. Me, I toss a salad, throw in some French bread, bag it all up and take it to my friends. I am never surprised at the reaction I get from family and friends when I bring them Mamma's potato soup - soup for the soul, I call it.

I decided to make BLT sandwiches to go along with the potato soup. My favorite part is the first bite especially if I get a good taste of mayonnaise with it. Long gone are the pork bacon and real mayo sandwiches like the ones my grandmother Claudia made; now made with turkey bacon and mayo with olive oil (a new discovery that is delicious) but nothing beats a tomato that is homegrown. And although I have one yellow, two red, and one pink all heirloom and one hybrid Big Boy tomato plants, I am getting one tomato at a time. Very odd, but it's been an odd summer.

Today it was a yellow tomato that I almost let get too ripe as it turned orange on the vine! But delicious and perfect for our BLT's. And like my grandmother, I don't toast my bread. And also like my Mamma's potato soup, my grandmother would make her BLT's for breakfast, lunch or dinner and usually anytime I requested one. We'd sit at her round oak table in the kitchen covered in a cotton print tablecloth with a matching napkin next to our Haviland china plates. She poured my milk into a tin glass which kept it very cold for a long time. I guess now every time I eat a BLT I'm reminded of my grandmother's grace and dignity and ability to make a child feel special just by eating a bacon, lettuce, tomato sandwich.

A Brand New Day

My favorite part of the day is waking up; opening my eyes and realizing it's a brand new day! Sounds like a coffee commercial.

I step out of bed and take those first few steps and say, "Thank you God!" And then I hold the post at the foot of the bed to make sure I can stand up okay. (This is an old habit that goes back to a few years ago when I broke my foot; back when I thought I would never be able to stand without pain.) But those days are gone. Instead I'm ready to start the day by thinking ahead immediately of what is coming up.

I read a great book for my book club this month called The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein. It is told in the first person by a dog who's master is a race car driver. Not only does it have a good storyline, but the main character, the dog, is delightful, smart, and very spiritual. He's says at one point that since God didn't give him a human tongue to communicate with then he should at least have a voice synthesizer like the one Stephen Hawkins uses.

A point the author makes is that a race driver is always thinking ahead, not focused on what is happening but already anticipating what is going to happen. In a curve for example, the driver is already looking at the next curve preparing for it and since he already saw the curve he's in now, he doesn't have to focus on it and can look ahead. But he must be prepared to react to the unknown.

This is not unlike sewing a straight seam with a sewing machine. I'm not looking at the needle as it goes into the material. I'm watching the guide. Or when I bowl, I aim for the pins by looking at them not where I'm throwing the ball.

It's a pretty easy concept to grasp but I guess I just never thought about how much we apply it to our everyday lives. I'm putting my foot down and taking the first step of the day, but I'm focused on what is going to happen today, not that step I'm taking.

This week I had the privilege of seeing my granddaughter, Paige, experiment in throwing a rubber ball. We were down in the basement changing the laundry when she found an old blue ball, one you find for $2 in a wire bend at the grocery store. At one time we had a bunch of them, all assorted colors to have on hand to toss, kick, and roll around the yard/patio. But this was the last one and she found it tucked away in a corner.

She said, "You want to catch the ball Mimi?" And I said, "Of course." So she tossed the ball to me and as she did she wasn't looking at me, just throwing the ball. I realized I had an opportunity to teach her the art of throwing a bouncy ball and so I explained to her that if she would focus on me and my hands poised to catch the ball, instead of looking at the ball, she would most likely throw it right into my hands. I was glad it worked.

The delight on her face when I caught it was almost as amazing as the delight on my face when I threw the ball back to her and she caught it. She had been able to reverse the process without me teaching her, by looking at the ball instead of me, she caught it every time. Only a few throws later, she wanted to move on to making the ball bounce before catching it.

It was a tiny bit of my time, but a big step in her growth, learning to focus on what's ahead and learn to react to sudden moves or changes. Simple tasks we adults take for granted not unlike getting up every morning to a new day. Stay focused, be prepared for all the curves, and yet rest assured that with God I can react to the surprises with grace and joy. Not unlike that which I witnessed in the eyes of a child.

It's All About the Climb

Today I had one of the best experiences in my life...I went to the movies with Paige. A four-year-old and a movie don't sound like they would co-exist, but in this case it went very well.

In fact, it went better. She and her mother went to see Hannah Montana, the Movie last week and Paige asked to go again. Today was Dollar Day at the Regal Cinema at Hamilton Place Mall. So I asked Paige if she wanted to go with me some time and she said, "How about today, Mimi?"

When we arrived I was impressed that there were no less than five stations to purchase tickets and I happily gave them my $2. And I was even more impressed when we went to get popcorn and soda at the concession stand. I ordered a small popcorn and coke for Paige, pointing to her and the young girl behind the counter said the kid's package would cost less. And then when the young man dished out the popcorn, she took it and added more.

We were only a few minutes early, however the theater was just about half full, but by the time the movie started, there was standing room only. Ushers were walking up and down the isles with tiny flashlights searching for open seats. Amazing...I have not seen this in years. Children, teenagers, young parents, and other grand parents like me filled the theater.

I don't know what I expected but it certainly wasn't what I got. This movie was unbelievably wonderful. Cheesy and slapstick and done with great taste and timing, but more importantly it told a very loving story. The music was wonderful, the scenes of Tennessee were absolutely magnificent, and the storyline was at times spiritual.

I found myself crying at least four times and laughing out loud many times more. Paige laughed and Paige watched and it was amazing to see her experiencing this adventure. At one point I was reminded of the last movie I saw with my own grandmother, My Fair Lady with Audrey Hepburn. It was a lovely experience and one I will always remember. I should be so lucky to have Paige remember this day.

For those of you who have not see the movie, the story is about a young girl who becomes a famous rock singer, Hannah Montana, but keeps her true identity Mylie Stewart (a.k.a. Mylie Cyrus in real life) a secret to all but one friend. When her grandmother celebrates a birthday back home in Tennessee, Mylie's dad (Billy Ray Cyrus - real dad and dad in the movie) forces her to come home for two weeks.

Once home and over missing out on the lime life as Hannah Montana, Mylie writes two songs that are beautiful, falls in love for the first time, remembers who she is and where she came from, and most of all finds herself without sacrificing her Hannah Montana identity.

Leaving the theater, ushers held doors for us and thanked us for coming. Everyone was smiling and I was overwhelmed with a wonderful feeling of gratitude. Grateful that Paige wanted to go with me, grateful for the opportunity to see such a well-written and performed movie, hear some beautiful music, and most of all grateful to be in a room with hundreds of other people who also shared in this experience with me.

You'll have to see the movie to understand why "It's All About the Climb." Silly, funny, delightful, heart-warming and so much more. Available next week to purchase, it is worth it, if nothing else to lift your spirits and feel the joy of love of friends, family and life in general.

The Light of God

I've decided that if I ever get a tattoo it will be a star; a tiny one just above my left ankle or maybe like a lot of celebrities put it on the inside of my left arm just above my wrist.

A star symbolizes so many things to many different people but for me it symbolizes the light of God. I read this anonymous quote recently that only confirmed my belief:

"To be a star, you must shine your own light, follow your own path, and don't worry about the darkness, for that is when the stars shine the brightest."

I ask myself, who am I? Am I a star that shines my own light?

Do I follow my own path? The answers, of course is YES.

It is very comforting to be a shining star, the light of God. I can feel the glow on my face and in some cases even the heat. This can come when I hold a grandchild in my arms or walk into a room filled with strange people and not feel alone.

Everyone I meet is a reflection of myself, and if I am a shining star, then too are the people I meet. As simplistic as it sounds, if I'm a shining star and the person I meet is as well, and the next person and so on then the earth would be the brightest star in the universe.

I wrote this poem a few years ago about the light of love, God's love:

The Light of Love

The light of love touches my cheek
as a ray of sunshine.
It may come as a blinding light in early morn or
as a beam dancing around the shadows of trees.

The light of love warms my fingers
in a sink of sudsy water.
A simple task that can be done alone while meditating
or shared with someone I find dear.

The light of love tugs at my heart
when my granddaughter calls my name.
“What darling?” I ask in response
as she begins to tell me about her day.

The light of love is a gentle hug
from a dear friend.
Old or young, the gesture binds us to each other
reminding us of the power of touching.

The light of love is the Divine presence
surrounding me.
It lights my life, warms my heart, and
reflects back into the lives of the people I touch.

Yes, I can say who I AM - the Light of Love, walking as the Light of God, a Shining Star.

Raindrops, Dewdrops, and Teardrops

This past weekend Mark and decided to make a quick trip to Charlotte, NC to visit the Swing family. We left early Friday morning after making what we affectionately call "the Mall run." This is the process Mark goes through each morning that is in effect restocking the merchandise at the stores sold the previous day. Brian offered to do this while we were out of town.


We woke to rain and it continued all the way to North Carolina as we passed no less than four accidents on the highway. Once in the mountains the raindrops turned to very intense rain and the usual 60 miles an hour dropped to 45 or less with heavy traffic taking its time to be safe. But there are few places in the USA that can match the beauty of the Appalachian Mountains and even in a heavy rain, we could feel God's presence.



Finally we arrived in Charlotte meeting Kevin at Lexi's daycare. She had a picture of her Mimi and Mark in her arms and reached with open arms to greet me, which of course thrilled me to no end and assured her concerned mother that the pickup was going to go well. Once home she showed us all her toys and ate everything I put in front of her for her snack.

Kevin and Jenn came home from work and after changing clothes we all headed for a local pizzeria which had the best pizza I've had in years! Even Lexi loved it. After dinner she had her bath and played with her grandfather who teased her endless that he was going to take her passy away. She loved it and finally wore herself out laughing and went to bed.

The next day Jennifer, in her most organized manner, had an itinerary for us which we followed almost to the letter. We woke up and there was a soft dew on the ground and low clouds that threatened rain. After I fixed breakfast (giving Kevin a break since Jenn doesn't cook), we drove to the train station and road downtown and toured the Epicenter. It was too early to shop in the stores but we were impressed with the three story "outdoor" facility with a stage on the third floor outside being set up for a band and sitting behind the curtain was a Red Bull aluminum bar. Pretty cool. Then we walked to the center of downtown Charlotte where there was an open market including a live band. We walked around in a misty rain but stopped by the waterfalls to take a few pictures.




Getting back on the train and on perfect schedule we stopped and got off at Pike's, a local restaurant that used to be a drug store. Serving home style food and homemade cream sodas and desserts, I had the vegetable plate - sweet potatoes, green beans and squash. I should have had sweet potatoes x's three - OMG - It's a miracle I only gained one pound over the weekend!


However the highlight of lunch was watching Lexi eat. The child is in a growth spurt and eats with her hands (due to the daycare not having enough time to spoon feed all the children; they just put the food in front of them and let them have at it.) I videotaped it and if I can figure out how to download I'll add it but you have to picture Patti Duke as Helen Keller in the Miracle Worker eating her food without a fork to appreciate the intensity in which Lexi ate her macaroni and cheese and green beans. She practically cleaned her plate, if you don't count the handfuls that fell on the floor. For a child that spent the first twelve months of her life hating to eat/drink her bottle, I for one was very happy to see her wonderful appetite and did not mind how she ate it.

The rest of the day we shopped for food, wine (Two Buck Chucks which is now $2.99 a bottle), fresh vegetables at the market, and clothes sometimes together, sometimes just the men, sometimes just the girls. For dinner, Mark and Kevin grilled ribs and chicken while I made stuffed baked potatoes and baked corn on the cob and sliced some of our fresh tomatoes from the market. Kevin and Daniel's high school friend Matt Thomas who lives in Charlotte, joined us with his girlfriend Gretchen. We spent the evening playing cornhole. It's a beanbag toss game which takes time getting the hang of, and which I managed to score only once. I was told holding a beer in the other hand would help with your balance, but I didn't think it would work well with a glass of wine so didn't try it. Lexi had fun watching us all play.

That night the thunder rolled and rain fell and we were very happy it didn't rain on our cookout. Lexi, Mark and I spent the evening watching Ace Ventura until she fell asleep in Mark's arms. Jennifer got some great shots of her going back and forth to the two of us stalling before going to bed.

In the morning I fixed biscuits, sausage and cheese grits which the Lou Lou loved. And then we all kissed goodbye and Mark and I headed back to Chattanooga. As usual my tears were both happy and sad ones. Sad to be leaving my daughter and her precious family and happy to see them so happy with their life; and grateful for having such a good and peaceful time enjoying their company proving that little drops of rain, dew or tears didn't ruin our trip, it only made it better!

Thanks Jennifer, Kevin and Miss Alexandra Anne Swing for a great visit! Love you, Mimi.