Celebrating Family

Two women I know lost their fathers to the COVID-19 virus over the last couple of weeks.  I can’t begin to imagine their pain. Not only have they lost someone so important in their life, but it’s happened at such an odd and difficult time.  Neither of them was able to properly say goodbye. The grieving process is hard enough, and now it’s different for them, and it’s all because of this virus and how it’s affected our lives.  

I am truly blessed, though.  Not only are both of my parents still with me -- my father turned 80 in February, but we were recently able to celebrate my father’s life with family and friends.   

The best way to sum up my father is to say that he’s a good man.  Dad is honest, hard working, and ethical, qualities he developed growing up the eighth of nine children on a working farm.  He tends to be on the quiet side, which may be because he lost his mother when he was 13, or maybe he’s just quiet. My brother and I learned early in life to listen when Dad spoke because it was probably going to be something we either needed or wanted to hear.  

Mom would play endless games of rummy or Sorry! with us, but Dad made little toys for us.  He made pop guns that shot dogwood berries or slingshots, things that had Mom worrying about one of us getting injured, but I don’t recall any boo boos along the way.  I only remember those little toys and the fun.  

Dad raises a garden every summer, and they were huge because it fed us throughout the year.  I remember watching Dad break ground with a horse and plow, a tiller, a hoe, whatever he needed and had access to.  He would work all day and then come home and spend hours in the garden. I loved it when the fresh vegetables started coming into season.  Dad and I both love to slice a tomato and enjoy it by itself. I would help Mom shell peas and snap beans. We all loved fresh corn on the cob, hot and smothered in butter, but Mom and Dad would slice it off the cob, freeze it, and then we’d have Mom’s fried corn all winter.  Fresh green beans are delicious, but canned ones got us through until the next crop.  

More than once Dad would come home expecting to harvest something, only to discover that I’d found a few first.  I would walk between the rows during the day, find something ripe and tasty, and pick it to enjoy right then and there.  Green peppers frequently went missing when I was around. I ate them like apples. Still do.  

Dad continues to garden, but the plot is smaller now.  

Dad’s had a few jobs through the years.  He worked at Service City when I was born.  Then it was the State of Kentucky. He hauled water to fill people’s cisterns when we lived in Orangeburg, and he worked in a factory when we lived on Jersey Ridge.  He was also an auxiliary police officer for a while. He worked in another factory after we moved to Cookeville, and then it was off to Bunny Bread, followed by an automotive store.  It may seem like he changed jobs more than some, but in fact, he often worked two jobs at a time. Did I mention that Dad is a hard worker?  

About 30 years ago Dad started a successful lawn equipment business.  He’s had farm equipment, mowers, blowers, chainsaws, and he and my brother service it all.  It’s a fine tribute to his hard work.

Around the end of last year, my brother and I realized that Dad would be turning 80 in February, and we plotted to throw him a surprise party.  The one thing my father treasures more than anything is his family. He’s never happier than when he’s surrounded by his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.  We thought a monumental birthday, such as an 80th, would be an excellent reason to gather everyone.  

I managed to not only invite the immediate family, but I also invited Dad’s brothers, nieces, nephews, and other family members.  Michael found us a nice place to have the covered dish lunch, the food was arranged, and I baked a cake from my grandmother’s recipe, the one she would bake for birthdays.

When the day arrived, we had a good 40 able to attend, which is a nice size crowd for a winter birthday.  Dad was truly surprised when he came in to see everyone. Both of his children were present, and we gathered all of his grandchildren except one.  J.D. was out on the road and couldn’t make it in, but Jonathan and his family came in from Oregon, Jordan came up from Lewisburg, and the rest of Michael’s children made it.  That meant all of Mom & Dad’s great-grandchildren were there as well. Sadly, neither of Dad’s brothers could join us, although his 92-year-old brother did chat for a bit via Face Time.  We had cousins from Kentucky, who were able to stay for a couple of days. I stayed in Cookeville for a few days myself.  

I realize how fortunate I am to have my parents.  A couple of women I know recently lost their fathers, but I’m still able to celebrate mine.

The B**** is Back

Well, dear readers -- if there are any of you left, it has definitely been awhile since I’ve been here, hasn’t it? So what’s happened in the three or four or so years since we last visited?

Let’s take a little stroll down memory lane…

First, just let me say that I have not been hospitalized. That’s an achievement! What I am saying is that my health has been fairly stable, and that’s always a good thing.

Now, here are a few of the big things that have happened.

Jonathan made me a grandmother, and the little guy will be two this summer. He’s incredibly bright, he’s talking in both words and sign language, and he makes me so happy. I flew out to Oregon to meet him when he was 5 months old, and I was fortunate to be there for his first Hanukkah.

Jordan got married, gave me a granddaughter, and moved an hour south of Nashville. She just turned a year old, and she’s a bright one as well. She’ll be walking soon, and she knows quite a few words. She’s just very selective about when she says them, which reminds me so much of her daddy, who was never one to perform on command. She’s also famous for her “model face.” This little girl smiles and laughs all the time, but you point a camera at her, and she will not smile. Instead, she gives you the most serious, deadpan stare, just like a model on a runway. She nails it every time.

I've asked the grandbabies to call me Marmee. That goes back to my love of Louisa May Alcott.

Dad gave us a scare and required open heart surgery. Thankfully, he’s bounced back and is right back to working full time in his business.

Yvonne’s son gave her a grandson as well. He was born just three weeks after my little granddaughter, and he’s just about to turn one. He’s a pistol, whose favorite pastime is chasing his best friend, his dog Roxie.

I did some writing and had a couple of pieces published in some of the Chicken Soup for the Soul books: “A Cousin’s Love” is #85 in Messages from Heaven and Other Miracles and “Mama’s Little Doll” is in Life Lessons from the Cat. They’ve accepted a couple of others as well, but they won’t be published until later this year or next. Corona has screwed up a lot more than the toilet paper supply.

I was doing some occasional dog sitting for friends, so I thought I’d sign up for Rover.com. Yep, that turned into a job. Last September I was home all of about 4 days. The rest of it was spent in different homes sitting with different dogs. It’s no way to get rich, but it’s some nice extra cash every now and then. Plus, I get paid to play with dogs. How bad is that?

Just this year:

• My dad turned 80, and we surprised him with a nice little party and mini family reunion. Only one grandchild couldn’t make it -- he was on the road, but all of the great-grandchildren were there, as well other family and friends.
• A tornado just missed us here in Nashville, while it did a great deal of damage in other parts of the city. We heard it roar by. Then it went along I40 until it ran headlong into Cookeville. That’s where it became an EF4 and really did a number on my hometown. It tore up the area I grew up in and where I had my first apartment. In fact, the woman who lived in the apartment that we brought my older son home to after he was born was killed.
• And now I’m sheltering at home thanks to COVID-19. Yvonne won’t let me leave the house, so I sit here, watch movies, read, and try not to be so thoroughly bored that I start crocheting clothes for the dogs again. I have rediscovered my genealogy work, and I’ve found that fascinating for quite a few years, so that’s been a nice little thing..

Okay, that’s enough of an update for now. I know I’ve left out a ton of stuff, so I’ll address that in later posts. I’m guessing it may not have been too interesting, or I would have recalled it.

Either I lead a very quiet life, or I’m getting really forgetful in my old age.

Stormy Weather

“Rainy Days and Mondays” or is it more like “Raining on Sunday”?  “Stormy Weather” like this tends to put me in a nostalgic mood.  I’ve spent the morning being very non-productive.  I played some Facebook games, read CNN, listened to some music, and that’s pretty much it. 

The music evokes so many memories, though.  It’s amazing how many times in my life wrap around something musical, or at least I equate them with a song or two.

Naturally, Mom and Dad were my first musical influences.  Dad was the country lover, and we listened to songs from Conway Twitty, Loretta Lynn, Merle Haggard, Charley Pride and Connie Smith, among others.  (Remember 8-track tapes??) Dad loved Connie Smith.  He was even in her security detail when she made a visit to our little town of Maysville, Ky.  We just didn’t get famous people that often in Maysville, except for our beloved Rosemary Clooney, so that concert made the front page of the Ledger-Independent, and there was a picture of Dad helping Ms. Smith through quite a crowd.

When we visited Dad’s family in Cookeville, Tenn., I would awaken every morning to the smell of food cooking on a wood-burning stove and the sounds of Eddy Arnold’s “Cattle Call” as WHUB signed on the air.  That memory is so vivid that I can almost smell the sausage my aunt Joyce cooked on that big, metal stove.    

Mom grew up in the 50s and 60s, so I cut my teeth on groups like the Platters.  We listened to them on a record player that sat inside a refinished Victrola case.  That thing was gorgeous, and there’s nothing like “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes.”  Mom taught me dances to the songs too, dances like the Stroll and the Hand Jive.  Mom had some varied tastes though.  She’s the reason I listen to the Beatles and the Eagles even now. 

Steve Verville -- Oh, I had quite a crush on Steve there for a while.  He lived across the street from us on Jersey Ridge, and I recall him being into Jim Croce.  (Never into me though.  *sigh*) Years later I worked with Croce’s widow on a project for CMT.  Life does make circles from time to time.

I had my own musical favorites back in the 70s.  First, it was Bobby Sherman, but he was quickly replaced by Donny Osmond who progressed to the Partridge Family, and I practically wore out Melanie’s “Brand New Key” and Don McLean’s “American Pie.”  And then … there was “Come Monday” by Jimmy Buffett.  I quickly became, and remain, a Parrothead.

We moved to Cookeville in ‘75, and I discovered the fact that there was more than one radio station I could access.  Wow!  My favorite was a station out of Gracious and Growing Gallatin –- I don’t remember the call letters , but Coyote McCloud was my favorite deejay.  Suddenly I had music any time I wanted.  Plus, there was American Top 40 with Casey Kasem.  I heard ABBA, Fleetwood Mac, Blondie, the Bee Gees, Rod Stewart…

In 1975, NBC gave us Saturday Night Live, and it was followed up by Don Kirshner’s Rock Concert.  For the first time we had two TVs, and one was in my bedroom.  I was supposed to be in bed around 10:30 because we had to be up early in order to attend services at the Kingdom Hall.  I was always in my room by 10, but I was going through a rebellious phase (Yes, staying up late was rebellious for me), and I would turn the TV on to catch SNL –- it was such an adult show to me!  One night I was still awake when Rock Concert came on.  The musical guest was Rod Stewart.  I thought he was a rather skinny, unattractive fellow, but then he sang “Maggie May.”  A chill went down my spine, just as it still does every time I hear that song.  (Rod was also my first true concert experience.   I believe it was the Worth Leavin’ Home For Tour, although I’ll always think of it as Tonight I’m Yours.)

The late 70s brought Aerosmith, Queen, Kansas, Elton John, Chicago, Steely Dan, John Cougar (now Mellencamp), Steve Miller Band, Boston, Journey and more than I can remember right now.

The late 70s also brought Bill Dyer into my life.  He introduced me to Bob Seger, and I remain a fan over 30 years later, although I find it very difficult to believe it’s been that long since we ran around in that ’74 Plymouth Duster, blaring Seger, the Commodores and Leo Sayer as we went.  (Sayer was for me.  Don’t blame Bill for that one.)

The 80s brought singers and bands with hair much bigger and prettier than mine.  Def Leppard was a favorite.  I’d drive that Duster into town with “Pour Some Sugar on Me” just blasting.  Culture Club had Mom and me sharing a conversation over “Karma Chameleon.”   Mom: “Is that a man or a woman?”  Me: “I don’t know, but I think it’s a man because there’s an Adam’s apple.”  Mom: “I suppose so, but it sure is hard to tell.”

The 80s also gave us MTV.  On August 1, 1981, MTV signed on with “Video Killed the Radio Star,” and the world was never the same.  Suddenly, songs could be seen, not just heard.  And MTV had a big effect on my life again in the 00s. 

Okay, so the 90s brought Terry Marsh and U2.  I certainly listened to other music then, but if you know Terry, then you know it’s all about U2 and nothing but U2. 

Then came my next encounter with MTV.  I started working for Country.com, later CMT.com, on May 27, 1997, and I stayed with them until I was “downsized” on Dec. 8, 2008. The music I heard -- recorded, live and otherwise, the people I met, the things I saw.  That was truly an amazing time in my life. 

Both boys have been in marching band.  Jordan still plays music –- he plays something like 9 instruments, but I think Jonathan only listens now.  That means I have the Marching Band Era, which means lots of loud music, and some of it was even good.

Oh, this is enough about music for now.  Some memories haven’t been as pleasant, and I’d just as soon not cry today.  So, I think I’ll leave it at this.  With Bob Seger’s “Roll Me Away” playing in the background.