Jumping Back in Time

Riding in the back seat of my car at the moment is a maroon and white megaphone, vintage 1968.  The letters BHS are neatly printed on one side and Corlea, written in script is on the other side.  I am going through my closet in my mother's house in Blytheville and decided to clean it out as much as possible.....something my mother has asked me to do for the past-uh--say--40 years.  I just never had a place to put my school memorabilia, but now that we have a large basement, I have no excuse.  Anyway, that megaphone brought back a bunch of memories about how I got it.  

I had been in the band since 7th grade.  My plan was to learn a musical instrument, and then, when the time came, try out to be a majorette.  But the time never came.  I was scared to death to twirl a baton in front of the band all by myself, and when I practiced, I dropped that silver stick more times than I could spin it around.  Alas, I was not going to follow in my mother's footsteps.  (She had set the bar high having been a majorette at the University of Tennessee in Knoxville.) 

I had gotten tired of the practices after school in the heat, the same John Phillip Sousa marches we played over and over, and the itchy wool uniforms with the big hats and their plastic chin straps.  But I just couldn't give up 5 years of playing the flute without something else to fill the void.  So a friend of mine suggested I try out for cheerleader.  Which I did.  And I lost.  So I continued in the band, but I was over it.  And something I have learned is that once you are over something, it is best to move on.  I had asked a friend of mine who was on the cheerleading squad what it would take for me to make the team the next time tryouts came around.  She said my jump was pretty pitiful and uninspiring.....nothing that would stir up a crowd.  So I began an eleven month long jump fest.  I decided that I would have the best jump I could possibly have and took every measure possible to ensure that.   It was a scene from SNL.   My picnic table in my backyard became my platform for jumping.  And I cannot begin to tell you how many hours of jumping off that table I spent in my quest for the perfect jump.  I was going to have such a terrific pike that I would have to be elected my last year in high school.  And I was elected.  All that time jumping off the picnic table and jumping in front of my mirror paid off.  And then my dreams of a date every weekend would come true.  But reality bit.  I had around 5 dates my entire senior year, did not have a date to my prom until I asked someone myself,  and hid from the band director when I saw him in the hall.  But  I had a hell of a split jump and that's something you can always use, right? 

I am not an Athlete

I wish I were.  I have always wondered if there had been sports for girls in Blytheville when I grew up, could I have been involved in something--anything-- besides band and cheerleading?  And of course Rockie Smith Dancers--can't forget that.  Twice a week might have been more fun if I hadn't been so scared and intimidated by my teacher. For 10 years I dreaded going to dance.....doesn't make for a good childhood memory, really.
Anyway, I have tried to keep healthy as an adult in various ways: aerobics in my 30s, tennis in my 40s and hiking in my 50s.  By the time I hit 60, it came down to walking...and I'm not knocking walking but it had become boring.  So I decided to set a goal in January:  a half marathon in April. Dash for Dad was for a good cause:prostate cancer, and the date would give me plenty of time to train.  Leah told me about a training app called WallJogRun that would give me exercise routes, timing, and a routine personalized for me.  So I began in earnest.  But around March, I hurt my back gardening and slowed down the walking.  I still went to exercise, but I completely quit the walk routine.  So when the race was this past weekend, Clark, who was all in with me, wanted to know if we were going to do it.  And I decided to pick up our packets and with all the excitement of everybody talking about it at the pick-up point, I knew I had to try.  Oh, and when it came my turn to receive my packet, the young man said," 5 K?"  And I was so proud to say, "No, half marathon please."  I showed him.  
Saturday morning arrived.  We got up at 6:00 in time to eat breakfast and get to the race in plenty of time.  The first words out of my mouth were, "Let's don't go."  And Clark told me after we looked at the race route that we could hang a right after 3 miles and walk home.  It was a mere half mile from the route to home at that point.  So we dressed, put on our numbers, ate and got to the race early enough to get the lay of the land.  I have never been in a race before, and the excitement was infectious.  I am going to go out on a limb here and say that I saw very few people our age with the half mar numbers on.  There were plenty of people in our age group with the 5-K tags.  And I started rethinking again.  And then Clark reminded me we could get off the route whenever we wanted.  No shame in that.  But for me--there was.  So when the starting gun went off, and we jogged out and the youngins were passing us like a Corvette vs. a Volkswagon bus, I knew I was in for the long haul.  It did not matter if I finished last, ( which mortified Clark by the way) I was finishing this damn thing.  
By the time we hit mile 6, we were fine. Even mile 9 was OK.  But something happened at mile 10.  We were over 2 hours walking, lagging behind and barely ahead of the last group of folks.  The self talk kicked in:  "You are too old to be doing this--what were you thinking?" / "You have to finish--it's a matter of pride"/"Who cares if you finish or not, you don't know a single person in this race and they are all at home drinking gatorade by now anyway"/ "Just 3 more miles"/"You've come this far, don't quit now"/"This sucks, I'm going to die"
Clark told me that I was like a woman in labor hitting transition, and it's funny that he said that because it was a similar feeling.  I didn't want to talk anymore, I didn't want to look at anything but the route ahead, and I didn't want him to touch me or ask how I was.  I just wanted it to be over.  And I wanted to quit---big time-- but I just couldn't.  And when our names were announced over the PA as we crossed the finish line hand in hand, nobody knew us and nobody cared about some old codgers who didn't even run.  But I did.   

Pitiful attempt at a smile

Farcebook

I've decided I'm not suited for Facebook.  I had a honeymoon period when I first joined and I actually connected with some people I have enjoyed knowing about.  But basically I joined because I didn't want to be left out.  I thought it would be fun to reconnect with friends from the past and stay in contact with current friends, since I seem to be constantly moving around the South.  And  I wanted to know what people were talking about when they referred to FB.  But, alas, the love affair is over.  Even after I put everything in order on my timeline, it is not satisfying enough.  And even though I post something almost every day, it is beginning to be a drag.  So, I am considering giving it up.  Throwing in the FB towel.  Calling it quits.  And here's why:  I have friends I am not even friends with in real life.  I have friends I don't even know.   And then there  are the friends who will say anything and will post ridiculous and downright stupid/inappropriate remarks and  links, and I have to hide those posts, because I don't want to hurt their feelings by unfriending them.   But mostly,  I find that FB is somewhat addictive and I am scrolling down and looking at pictures or comments of friends of friends and I don't have a clue who they are.  It is a mindless waste of time.  Yet I do it.  And lots of times I'm afraid to say what I really think, especially politically.  Because people will jump you on FB.  Like my friend Beckett says, "I just don't need to invite stress into my life".  So I am going to give up FB for Lent.  It will be a trial period.  I will do something more productive in the time period I  would have been on FB.  And I will see if I can do it. For good.  So, I'm sorry if I forget your birthday, or don't comment on a wall post or don't tell you how adorable your kids or grandkids are.  Because I will not be back until after Easter.   Uh,  how long is that???????? Hmmm.... I wonder if there is a FaceBook Withdrawal Support Group online. You know,  a place where you could connect with other people... and they could comment on how they are doing...... and you could write back........ and they could post pictures.................

Auld Lang Syne

OK.  I had to google it.  I have been singing this song on new Year's Eve for 50 something years and didn't really know exactly what it meant.  I also didn't know it was a poem written by Robert Burns.  So I guess it's good to know what you are singing, especially if you've been drinking.  Oh yeah, it means "old-long since" or "old long ago" just in case you aren't sure either. And when we sing it, I guess we are looking at the past and sort of toasting to it with the knowledge that we have hope in the future.  Reflection is a good thing I guess, especially if you are grateful for what has happened in the past.  I'm just thinking about this past year, and for me, I was blessed with another healthy granddaughter, two daughters and their families who are happy and healthy, and a husband who continues to be my best friend.  I'm not saying everything was rosy in 2011, because there are always lows with the highs.  And this past year sent some revelations to me that were life changing.  But you move forward and learn to cope.  
About 12 years ago, out of nowhere, I began to write songs.  They were for family and close friends only, and were not particularly good.  But I would sit down at the piano and out one would come.  It was a way for me to express how I was feeling and better than going crazy, I guess.  Most of them were spiritual, but one was for Clark.  I haven't said much about him on this blog, but he is definitely worth a post, and then some.  He is one of the good guys--and I don't believe anyone who has ever met him would tell you any different.  I am seriously blessed and super grateful for Clark.  Anyway, I thought since I was doing a little looking back today, I would share that one song with you.  Don't worry--I'm not singing it, but just thought that it would be a cool way to end my blog for 2011. Have a Happy New Year everybody!
                                       
                                               Love of Mine
You still remember our first time to meet
No one could have told you 
My heart's yours to keep.
As we claimed life together,
A friendship was born.
Could it stand up to trials-
Life's thickets and thorns?


And I saw the flame flicker 
In your twinkling eye.
Naive young emotions,
Might they live or die?
Oh the flame is elusive 
And considered a threat
For it knows not of love
And of promises kept.


We've made mistakes
Had our miracles too.
God's grace was upon us
To help see us through.
So HIs path we will follow
Till we round our last bend
Much more pleasant a journey
Sharing life with my friend.

What's Cookin'?

I was brought up in the three square meals era.  Home cooked meals.  I know it's hard for you younger people to get, but in our little town of Blytheville, AR, there were just not many places to eat out, so everyone was at home eating ,and kids were in bed by 8:00.  That's right, 8:00 or before.  When Clark and I go out to eat now, there are kids humming around the tables and playing on iphones at 9 and 10 on school nights.  And we always wonder why they are out that late.  When I was a kid, It was a huge deal for us to have dinner out-- like a birthday or a holiday treat.  I can remember going to the Embers in Memphis for probably the first time I ate in a restaurant.  I was hammered all the way in the car about where my napkin needed to be and how I was to use a quiet tone in talking.  We were dressed nicely and were not allowed out of our chairs once seated.  Times have changed, for sure.  There is a restaurant on every corner and mom and dad are tired and just want to get a break.  
But I digress.  What I wanted to say today is that I am very aware of how cooking connects us....to the family and friends from whom we received the recipe, and to the memory of eating that particular food unique to the holiday season.  I have some of my grandmother's cooking utensils and when I grip the pastry cutter, I think about how many pies and cookies I consumed at Mimi's house that were made by her hands with that very tool. 
Two days this week, Mama came over and we made Christmas candy and cookies (our batting average on the fudge was .500).  On our first try, the soft ball was not hard enough; on the second try we overcompensated and barely got the candy out of the pot before it hardened.  But we made a memory and we laughed a lot.  She can no longer make those delicious pies I blogged about last year, but she can still stir up a pot of homemade fudge or divinity.  It just takes a few more tries.  Sometimes the holidays can be bittersweet, even if you are surrounded by lots of folks, because you remember those Christmases at your grandmother's house or other family member's home that are now an impossibility.  But somehow food is a great connector of family and memories.  And it's not just in the eating but in the making too. Have a blessed Christmas!

Hattie Elizabeth

Hattie arrived Sunday night after Thanksgiving. Clark and I were already at Katie and Adam's for Turkey Day, so Hattie was very accommodating.  Katie had another natural birthing experience, and I just don't know how she does it.  She's a strong soul, that one.  I am a very proud mommy and an especially proud Mimi.  Just look at that sweet baby girl..... so much to be thankful for.  

Free Fallin'

Leah and Paul  and their boys drove back to Austin yesterday after visiting us for about a week in Memphis.  The 12 hour drive must have been excruciating, and we were so grateful they took the time and trouble to visit us.   The boys are at the magical ages of 2 and 5 and everything is new and wonderful.  I enjoyed just watching them discovering things that we take for granted....like leaves.  I will admit leaves are a nuisance when they pile up on your steps so that you cannot even see where to put your feet, but I have resisted blowing  (I hate that noise) and bagging them and was so glad I had plenty on the ground when the boys were here.  Henry and I had fun identifying the types of leaves and I sent him home with a box full.  My mother spent several days with the little guys, and it was so sweet to see them interact with her.  Henry and I raked leaves for about 2 hours one afternoon with Mama looking on, and the above photo is the result.  I don't guess there is any way to go back and grab the delight of jumping in a big pile of freshly fallen leaves, but we were doing a pretty good job of enjoying ourselves just watching Leah and Paul's offspring. When the November days are clear and warm here in Memphis, it's as good as it gets.  I am grateful for the sweet gift of grandchildren.  Happy Thanksgiving!