On Your Own Again (written 1985)

On Your Own Again

Alone, at last.

No more fights

No more screaming matches

Hateful looks (outbursts)

No sullen pouts

No one to challenge your decisions

Just one in charge . . . You

It=s what you wanted, isn=t it?

Responsibilities B

How to fix the broken lawnmower

Where IS that wrench?

And how do I charge that battery . . . again.

The car B but I just replaced the tires six weeks ago . . .

Align them, did you say?  Twenty-five Dollars, did you say?

The dryer won=t run

A new motor it needs.

And what=s that funny

  Clanging in the washing machine

Please, God, you fix it , indeed.

* * * * * * * * * *

To face the difficulties of life B alone.

To discover strengths you didn=t know you had.

To be content with what you have.

To stretch B and reach B and stretch again.

The path you=ve taken has it=s hills and valleys

Rock and gulleys. 

But the climb builds strength

And confidence that you can do

what needs to be done.

It=s what you needed, isn=t it?

Freedom B

To do what you want

When you want.

To drink that early morning cup of coffee

Without the TV chattering, bringing you

 unwanted news on timely topics

The lovely peace of sharing your morning

With nothing but the Shining Sun, the

 chirping birds, the rustle of the wind in the trees

Peace, at last.

It=s what you wanted, isn=t it.

Yesteryears . . .

The youngster raced down the steps of the two-story house.  It's barn-style roof made it appear larger than the homes on either side.  Slinging his belted books over his shoulder, the young boy took the stairs two at a time, youthful energy bubbling from his small, wiry body.  If you could have looked into his large, hazel eyes you would have seen a glimmer of mischief lurking behind his innocent smile.

Halfway down the street, he stopped to adjust his knee-length socks which never stayed tucked inside his knickers when he ran.  Wool tweed knickers, long black stockings held up by garters that always seemed to be too tight or too loose, black high-top, lace-up shoes, white shirts and bow ties were standard school attire for boys his age.  Jack hated the baggy pants and itchy socks.

At the corner, he turned right and ran the short side block to the school yard.  The school and playground took up an entire city block with the front of the school facing the residential street Adeline and the rear and playground backing up to State Fair, one of the busy city streets that bounded the State Fair Grounds in Detroit, Michigan.

The large playground contained swings and slides in several locations.  However, he had no time for play.  The first bell was ringing as he entered the massive wooden doors on this side of his school, Grayling Elementary.  He was seven years old and in the second grade.  The year was 1919.
  * * * * *
The little girl jumped down the steps of the small bungalow-style house she shared with her mother and father.  Her large, expressive, hazel eyes sparkled with enthusiasm and her small slender body seemed charged with energy as she bounced her way down the steps, one at a time. 

Her long dark brown hair was parted on the side with a big red bow and curled in the Shirley Temple ringlets that were a popular style of the times.  She was wearing a red, white, and blue gingham dress, smocked and gathered in the front, with white collar and cuffs, sewn on her mother's new sewing machine.  Red tights and sensible brown Oxfords completed her apparel.  The dress was one of many lovingly hand-made by her mother.

At the bottom of the stairs, she began skipping and singing her way down the street.  Reaching the corner, she turned right and ran the short side block to her school, Grayling Elementary.  She was seven years old and in the second grade.  The year was 1945.

* * * * *
Serendipity.  Life is full of it.  That little boy and girl?  Each spent almost ten years of their childhood on the same street albeit twenty-five years intervened.  Big deal.  So what . . . unless you know the little boy became the father of the little girl.  Serendipity. 

Of course a lot of things happened to the young boy known as little Jack Hopps between the years 1913 and 1945.  By then he had married and fathered a child--the little girl--who he adored almost as much as he did her mother.  And in 1945, he was about to become a proud father once again, this time of a son.

His daughter certainly thought it was unusual that she and her parents lived just a few houses down from her father's childhood home. Unfortunately, she didn't learn this until she was grown and long gone from her childhood neighborhood.

As a child living in this community, she had always been especially drawn to the two-story house a few doors down from her own.  At the time, she thought it was because of it's Dutch roof.  Anything that looked like a barn or smelled like a farm always drew her attention.  That's because her mother's father had a farm in Tennessee and every summer they would spend a couple of weeks with him.  She loved visiting Grandpa Roberts on his farm.  Although he sold the farm and moved to town when she was still a little girl, throughout her life, the smell of barns and horses and hay would always be to her the best smell in the world.

As far as the barn roof house is concerned, maybe it was something else that drew her attention; that beckoned her.  An aura perhaps, a presence, of the laughter, the tears, the sorrows, the joys of the people who had lived there 25 years earlier. 

Whatever it was remained a mystery.  She never knew the people who lived there during her childhood well enough to be invited inside.  And never had the chance to heed the beckoning of the house by venturing inside.  Years later, when she learned it had been her father's childhood home, she remembered the emotions the house had stirred in her.  And wondered.  And desperately wished she could have gone inside and seen--"experienced"-- the rooms where her father and his parents had lived a portion of their lives. 

When the girl was just thirteen, her paternal grandmother died.  And her paternal grandfather moved to California long before she was born.  In fact, she only saw him twice.  Being in the house where they once had lived would have enriched her memories.

But the essays I'm writing are not about the little girl.  They are about the boy.  And some of the significant and serendipitous events that took place in his life between the years 1913 and 1945.  Events and circumstances that shaped him into the man he was to become.  A man of responsibility and integrity and scrupulous honesty.  A man who respected the authority of his parents, his church, his community, his country.  A man of peace who nevertheless stood firm for his principles when confronted with conflict or controversy.

The little boy became a man.  The man became my father.  One of my heros . . . . except I’ve never told him so.

If he reads my essays, he'll know.

Sarah Barnes
June 1996

MEMORIES . . . and JOYS --- Then and Now

12/09/2019

So.  Back home agin. (*)

Left Thursday afternoon to meet with some friends from church; one of whom drove us to Cheekwood for the Holiday Lights show.  AWESOME!  Even if it DID cost $22.  Cheaper if you're a member (free to join, so I did to qualify for discount prices for future events). 

She drove straight down Hillsboro Road to Old Hickory and then on over to Cheekwood.  I've been to Cheekwood but it's been a long time.  Just being a passenger along this route reminded me of places and things I haven't seen for years.  Some of which has changed a bit, of course.

* * * * * * * * * *

(I used to take Hillsboro Road to Moore's Lane where I turned right down to the offices of Matrix Enterprises.  They were Franklin's cable company back in the 80s and when I first joined the staff they were actually located in the county jail building.  I can picture the building now but can't remember exactly where or if it's still standing. We moved to the new building on Moore=s lane a few months after I began working for them.)

* * * * * * * * * *

After we left the Cheekwood exhibit, we headed back to Franklin, choosing Zolo's for dinner.  That took me back some years, as well. 

I don=t often eat out anymore but when I do I always check out the appetizers/soup/salad side first B and sometimes that=s all I get B since I get filled up quickly.  If I do get a full dinner, I always bring home enough left-overs for at least 2 more meals. So it=s a good deal, either way.

What's This?  OHMYGOSH! I had forgotten all about these . . .

(When I lived and worked in Franklin, shortly after Jer returned to Michigan, I frequently stopped at Zolo's for this absolutely DELISH (and filling) . . . Crusted DEEP FRIED Artichokes!!!). 

WOW!  Price has doubled.  But I gotta have >em anyway.  One of the other ladies agreed we would split the price and the consumption. 👍

  

Oh, I will definitely be stopping here regularly once again whenever I=m visiting J/B in Franklin. In fact, I may have to come >more often.= 😉

I ended up choosing the Lemon Chicken/Pasta ($22) as my entree so between that and the artichokes I ordered, I had enough food for (3) more meals when I left.  So the price wasn=t too bad after all.

Friday morning I headed to CJ=s.  We were going to work out a tentative plan for how/when I will help her (data entry stuff) organize/record data in connection with one of her new clients and then watch a movie with dinner.  Maybe Rocket Man.

So we did.  But Rocket Man was no longer available so we watched Big instead.  If I ever watched it, I didn=t remember any of it and it was delightful.

            We still had some planning to do, plus I always like to help with laundry whenever I go to the kids= homes.  They=re in that phase of life that keeps them running in ten directions at once and I have time on my hands now, so I am glad to pitch in on the easy stuff whenever I can.

So CJ and I spent Saturday continuing to organize/plan stuff and that night we watched First Man during dinner.  It was heavy duty at times but an excellent re-telling of the expeditions leading up to and including the moon landing.

Before leaving CJ=s the next morning (Sunday) I called to check with Becky/John to see what, if anything, was going on there (I knew they had had a houseful with John=s birthday and their anniversary celebration being one day apart B on the 5^th and 6^th B and wanted to check and see if they needed me to play laundry catch-up.  Depending on what was going on, I could stay overnight and head home in the morning. Or head back home late afternoon.

Not surprising, John said Acome on over; maybe we=ll watch a movie later.  Or not. We=ll figure it out.@

So I did.  And stayed.  It was hectic but joyful >little kid= hectic stuff.

My staying would definitely be helpful, they said, because one of the little ones (5 years) has to have a surgical procedure tomorrow and John is going with them to the hospital for the procedure and Becky will stay home with the two smaller siblings.  So if I stay, I can help; one way or another.

So I did.  Unfortunately, all the kids have some kind of >flu/cold bug= but the doctors said it was a kid=s virus and adults weren=t susceptible.

But then this morning B Becky was sick.  Flu Sick.  So they insisted I leave.  She doesn=t have what the kids have but that means I could get it.  I DID get the >super= flu shot for older folks, but still . . . it=s probably better if I leave. I never had to worry about this when I was younger.  Always have had an excellent immune system and hardly ever got the flu B or if I did it came and went in 24 hours.

(*) I feel like I=m abandoning ship!

Online Sharing . . . Good or Bad

95% of my posts are about animals and/or people who rescue/help/love their animals -- or folks who "pay it forward". Or beautiful sunsets. Or uplifting, encouraging thoughts or actions that make the world a better place. It's who I am. Mostly.
I get a 'few" Likes. Maybe.
Once in awhile, Evil twin escapes and posts something more serious -- a problem for society, for example -- a 'thought-provoking' quote or statement . . .

And then . . . All Hell Breaks Loose and my intelligence, my integrity, my purpose are subjected to ridicule and/or insults. Strange. I learned how enlightening/helpful 'discussions' can be when I attended the First Unitarian Church in Nashville during the time of my second marriage. Groups got together regularly -- to discuss ALL SORTS of problems. No one ever got mad. No one spoke disrespectfully of another's point of view. Did we all agree? Of course not. People from all walks of life, all religious/philosophical backgrounds/ethnic groups/educational and professional backgrounds -- came together because . . . all were welcome.(*) Often, the response to someone's point of view was: "Interesting. I never thought about it from that perspective before." At 50 years of age, it was so encouraging/enlightening to realize there were folks who could discuss and entertain a different perspective than their own. Without being rude. Without being insulting/disrespectful. Sometimes it changed their opinion, sometimes it didn't. But that was okay. With everyone. I miss those times. I need to find a group like that agin. And By-Pass Facebook. Hopefully Optomistic, Sarah (*) Unitarians tell this joke on themselves: Is it intolerant to be intolerant of intolerance?

Libtard . . . Progressive . . .

          Someone recently referred to me as such.

          Me???  Wait just a New York minute . . .

          Hmmm. Let me think about this. Not very familiar with those terms; never thought of myself that way exactly . . . .

          So let's see  – my husband and I raised our kids to be respectful . . . and truthful . . . and responsible –

We taught them to be honest and dependable --
We taught them to clean up after themselves --
We taught them to finish what they start --
We taught them to be kind to others, and forgiving --
We taught them to study hard to get good grades –

          And being being part of a family means fun times AND responsibilities IN the family so --

          We assigned home chores for each of them from age 3-4 --

          When they were old enough for part-time jobs, we taught them it was important to show up on time 'ever' day and do a good job, that there is no “free lunch”. Work hard, do your job, you will be rewarded.

          Personally, like Elvis, I believe in “a little less talk, a little more action”so like Graham Nash once said when being interviewed by Tavis Smiley in 2011, “I’ve got to be the way I want the world to be” is a credo I strive to live by.

          And having been raised in a church that preached “we’re right and everyone else is wrong”, I have fought against that perspective my whole life – always attempting to find ‘common ground’ whenever/wherever possible with people of differing perspectives. Learning along the way, how often that results in finding much about which to agree.
.
          I believe what I believe because it works for me. Living in America, I recognize the same 'freedom of choice' applies to you and yours.

          Being a ‘free thinker’, I also believe what I think today may change depending on what I learn tomorrow.

          So here I am today – in this self-absorbed, anything goes, “ if it feels good, do it” world --

just now learning that all those things I taught and practice and still believe in makes me a “Libtard”, a “Progressive.”

          It’s GR-ATE to learn sumthin’ new ever day, is it not?

          Yeah, it is.

          This calls for a celebration. Yeah, it does.

The Mystique of Music . . .

Passing thru the living room to feed the birds and make my coffee, I turn on Easy Listening, as usual.  Then I let Rocky out for his morning ritual.

Sitting down with my coffee, Rocky joins me momentarily, as the sounds of the theme from Schindler's List begin.

I pause as the melancholy melody fills my heart and soul with such poignant emotions.

How do they do it?  Composers, I mean.

Twelve notes produce such unimaginable combinations.  Well, I shouldn’t say unimaginable ‘cuz someone does.  Imagine them, I mean.

Listening to this music that is SO BEFITTING of the story . . . the sadness, the tragedy, the pain – it’s all there.  In the notes, the melody.

And then – think about this.  The difference in composing in a Minor Key – or a Major Key:

F Sharp – it’s the same note as G Flat.
C Sharp – it’s the same note as D Flat
and so on.

    Except (3) instances: There is no note identified as C Flat or E sharp or F Flat.

    So why . . . how come . . . if you compose in the Minor Key – instead of in the Major Key – it changes the SOUND, the EMOTION . . . EVERYTHING --.

– to produce music such as the theme from Schindler’s List – evoking sounds/emotions that are –

– melancholy, dismal, heartbroken. mournful. pessimistic. somber. sorrowful.

    Whereas, music in the Major Key makes you want to sing along, dance, jump for joy, or blissfully close your eyes and relax while your mind finds its Happy Place.

    How can this be?

    I can’t explain it but I sure can love it . . .

    The Mystique of Music . . . is a Blessing Beyond Measure.

* * * * * 

“Music is the divine way to tell beautiful, poetic things to the heart.”
—  Pablo Casals

https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/pablo_casals_100781

Good Stuff Happens; Yeah, It Does!. . .

What a Day! What a Guy! Son, John, that is.

Malfunctioning AC unit repaired and a NEW Water Heater installed.

What he thought would be a 2-3 hour job took all day. 'Course I stood By-The-Ready to "hold" the hammer or the screw driver -- and even became a "Ready-to-be-Certified" Welder. Yeah, I did. Well, maybe certification will come with a little more practice. ??

So here’s the deal –

In the summer, I keep the thermostat set at 76. It works well for Mary 'n me. Yesterday, for some reason, I walked thu the hall and "happened" to look at the thermostat and was surprised to see it was set at 76 but Temp was 77. I check it on occasion -- but not often -- and always the Set temp matches the actual Temp.

So this (the descrepancy) was odd. Hmmm . . .

A few minutes later, John called to say he was coming by to check on my water heater and to see if he could determine the source of the water leak; maybe it WAS the water heater. 

"Good," I thought; he can change the AC filters (2) and I will mention the 76/77 Temp descrepancy.

He had asked for and I had sent him info from the hot water tank a few days ago and he had now determined it was 20 years old. So when he came over and we looked at the water leak in the garage again, he told me he thought the water leak likely was the heater, esp. considering its age. Based on this and his recommendations, I decided to purchase a new one.

Then he checked the thermostat and the AC unit (outside) and came in to tell me "Mom, this is the 3rd AC unit I've seen in the last couple of weeks with this problem." Then he showed me "the problem." Two copper wires were touching and they caused a break and leagage/foaming at the break. Not an uncommon issue/problem, apparently.

So. "Every . . . thing . . . matters" -- once again, the quote of Andy Andrews proves itself. (Noticing that descrepancy in the Temp and the Setting (76/77) on the Thermostat 30 minutes before John called to say he was coming over was NOT accidental.)

So then we drove to Franklin -- Ferguson HVAC -- where I purchased a new water heater and the parts and pieces needed to fix the AC. Not exactly cheap but considerably better than if I had to call an unknown.

We returned with our purchases and John proceeded to fix the AC and pull out the old water heater and install the new one. Which was a few inches larger and barely fit in the space (but did, thank goodness) except it required going to Home Depot for some add'l parts to line up the pipes correctly (because of the larger size of the tank). GAH!

While he's busy fixing the AC unit and installing the water heater, I spent about 1-1/2 hours pulling weeds along the side of the house where the AC unit is -- a garden area completely overgrown with crab grass and weeds. Don't ask what happened when I tried to stand up! ACH! OOWW! My aching joints!

WHAT AN AMAZING DAY OF ACCOMPLISHMENT!!!

Thank you, dear John, STILL my Son-Shine boy! Hopefully you will have a restful evening and night.

As for me, I am enjoying a good dinner (Steak, fries, brocolai, corn, and strawberries dipped in brown sugar, a glass of Vino, and a small piece of choc. pudding cake for desert.).

AND at bedtime, a dose of Aspirin -- 500 mg for body aches and pains -- for my ACHING JOINTS!

Sons are Good! Life is Good! God is GOOD! 

Yeah, it is!
Sarah

Who Was That Guy . . . Really.

Who was that guy, anyway . . . ???

You know . . .  he lived a long time ago . . . back in the ‘olden” old days.  

Walked and talked to folks, kinda like town meetins’, in a way.  I mean we’re talkin’ really LONG AGO and FAR AWAY . . . 

I ‘member sum of the things he said . . . like . . . 

Love your enemies.
Do good to them that despitefully use you.
Blessed are the merciful for they shall obtain mercy.
Judge not, that ye not be judged.
Blessed are the peacemakers.
If you see someone without a coat and you have two, give him one.
Take care of widows and orphans.

Really????  C'mon, Guys! I mean . . . 

Sounds like sum kinda Commie Socialist ‘er sumthin’ . 

Oh, wait . . . now I ‘member.

It was . . . Himself!  The “Man”! . . . 

His name was Jesus.

Oh, What a Night It Was, it Really Was . . . (*)

Tonight -- what a surprise!

Last week Caryn invited me to come over on Saturday, my birthday. “We want to take you out for your birthday. Come around 3-4 p.m.; we’ll leave around 5 p.m.”

Got here around 3 p.m. She had advised me to wear something 'nice' 'cuz we were going to dinner. So I did. Now it's about 5 p.m. and we're on our way. We drive and drive and it appears we are heading to Nashville.

Me --So what restaurant are we going to, anyway?
 
CJ -- Who said we were going to a restaurant?

Me -- Well, that's usually where you go to eat.

CJ -- Well, it doesn't have to be a restaurant, you know.

Me -- Huh? OK, so now I'm really confused. Hmmm.

But she continues driving towards Nashville and then I see Charlotte Avenue -- Oh, ok; we’re on the west and north side of downtown. More "Hmmm". I am totally wondering where on earth we are going.

CJ's phone rings and we take turns talking to Lisa. Jeff and Lisa sing Happy birthday on speaker. We hang up.

CJ -- Oh, by the way, we're all coming to your house tomorrow. For dinner. We're bringing it..

Me -- WHAT???

CJ -- Well, we were going to surprise you but I thought we'd better tell you in case you had made some other plans (they know what a social butterfly I am!)

Me -- OHMYGOSH! You Guys! No, I have no other plans. This is so great!

So she drives some more. And then turns down a street and starts to drive into this B-I-G parking lot. With a B-I-G building next to it. I look up. There is a Logo across the top of the building.

I gasp as I blurt out -- WHAT????

The Logo says "CabaRay".

I nearly fall out of the car/faint! This is Ray Stevens' new Venue. I watch his 30 minute show every Saturday night at 6:30 p.m. on PBS. I L-O-V-E this guy. Always have. He is a comedic musical genius.

I AM BLOWN AWAY With JOY!!!

This is ABSOLUTELY what you call a . . . C-A-P-R-I-S-E!!!(**)

So we go in and have an amazing delicious meal. And then, at 7:30 p.m. the show begins. Out comes Ray. Lookin’ and actin’ like he always did . . . and does.

And he sings and tells jokes and entertains us for close to 1-1-/2 hours. Of course, you KNOW what song he closed the show with, right? Right.

No? The Streak, of course . . .

The show is amazing . . . he is amazing . . . the energy . . . and musicality of his voice . . . at 79 years of age !!! . . . and flipping so perfectly into that perfect falsetto . . . (you remember Tarzan, the Guitar Man; right?)

I am in music/happy heaven. And he throws in a couple of love songs . . . and a couple of hymns before he’s done.

They told us when we arrived Ray would come into the bar area after the show to greet folks. So after the show we went there and waited. After about five minutes he walked in.

CJ took some pictures of me talking with him.

I told him he was a national treasure and that this had been a surprise dinner/concert for my 80th birthday because I was such a big fan. And I mentioned that my son John (***) had been in the music business for over 30 years and had been married to Jeannie C. Riley's daughter. (That because the venue had photos of Ray and so many musicians all over the walls and Jeannie's picture was up there with him in one of them).

And then we drove back home to Fairview.

WOW! Topping this would be hard.

(*) And this was one of the songs he sang, also (Johnnie Ray was my First Teen Hearthrob)
(**) What Tom called ‘surprise’ when he was little.
(***) John told me the next day that his sound company, Gopher It, had run sound for Ray at least once ‘back in the day’.

* * * * *

And now it's the next day – the second surprise.

Caryn told me last night all 'the kids' were coming over after church and bringing all the food. So I knew that.

MAN . . . This party just keeps on keepin’ on. (Well, that’s what I tried to teach ‘em; keep on keepin’ on, I mean. Guess it worked.)

But now I’m pulling into my driveway and I see this red truck settin’ on the side of my yard (I’m a corner lot). “Wonder why some neighbor picked THAT spot to park? Odd . . . But Tom has a red truck. And it’s a Chevy. Like that one. Maybe he came a little early . . . “

So I pull into the garage and enter the house via the pantry/laundry room that leads into the kitchen. And the french door from the dining area that leads to the back porch is o . . . . pen . . .

OHMYGOSH!! It’s Tom . . . and John . . . and they’re standing on a board on a divided ladder and they’re hanging/nailing screening.

It’s happening. It’s really happening. The screened-in porch is getting F-I-N-I-S-H-E-D!!!

And the Birthday Joy just keeps on keeping on . . .

Once they got the screens done, John and J-Man (his son, Jeremy) went to Home Depot – I tried to go with them and argued and pleaded and stamped my foot a couple of times. I knew they were going to get a new screen door (the first one got broke a couple years ago) and I have a credit card with Home Depot – and it has a zero balance! 'No way, Woman. You’re NOT goin’!"

Later, I found out J-Man paid for the door.

Luckily, we checked the status of the gas tank (for the gas grill I only use when kids are around for gatherings) and it was nearly empty so they bought another tank of gas, also. I presume John bought that.

In the meantime, the younger kids – grandsons and great-grand kids are out in the yard playin’ catch.

Us girls are yakking and getting the food ready; hamburger patties to grill, salads, etc. and CJ and Becky begin spearheading a plan for a “girls week escape’’ for later in the year on St. George Island at a house on the beach where Caryn and Randy and the boys . . . and me . . . spent a week a few years ago. It was awesome great. 4 BR, with pool under the carport and . . . fifty feet of beach ending at the ocean edge!

She checked prices and availability and called and MADE THE RESERVATION! And we paid the deposit!!!

Good Times Just Keep on Keeping On . . .

Did I mention how much I love these ‘guys’ and how very blessed I have been and continue to be . . . I am one LUCKY MOM/Grandma/Great-Grandma.


Sarah
(This one will be hard to top!)

Glen and The Music . . . (10 01 2017)

     Ah, here it comes -- PBS 7 p.m. Special -- repeat from 2007 – Glen Campbell: Good Times Again. The Love of My Life -- entertainer-wise, I mean. And you should see the line-up of singers/entertainers on the show.

     Joy . . . Joy . . . JOY!!! Be still my heart.

     And here's Linda -- (Ronstadt, that is) – hair down to her waist! Beautiful. "Carolina in My Mind."

     And now it's Ray . . . "Cryin' Time".

     And Bobby Gentry? Didn't know he recorded an album with her. And they sing a duet . . . oh, no, it’s "Let it Be Me."  That was mine and Jer's song; it was playing in the car on the way home from one of our dates . . . the night we fell in love. . .

     And Ricky Nelson. . . and Cher.
     And Ann Murray . . . "Ain't No Use" . . .
     And Roger . . . "King of the Road."

     And then Glen, this time just him doing "By the I get to Phoenix" . . . another heart-wrencher.

     And here’s a clip of him meeting John Wayne . . . explaining how he got the role in True Grit. And now he sings it.

     And then he explains how "Raindrops," by B. J. Thomas, beat him out for Best Song that year. And then he and B. J. Sing it.  "Raindrops," I mean.
= = = =
     And I listen . . . and my heart swells with emotion and my eyes drip . . . from the beauty of it . . . and with what now seems like the "innocence" of it all . . . what??? innocence???

     Well, not really . . . unless it was mine, maybe??? Because of the safety and security of the life I was living at the time. . . being loved and needed by family and friends . . . and thinking that it would always be so. ??
= = = =
     And here comes Johnny -- no, not Carson. The One, the ONLY -- CASH! And listen to Glen do that guitar and voice solo. AND, then, of course, that signature "arm/guitar movement" of Johnny's as he plays that guitar.

     And now it's . . . who ?? I recognize the voice, but the SHORT hair??? OMG -- it's Willie . . . and he and Glen do "Lonely Walls." Had forgotten he ever looked like this.

     And now here comes "Gentle On My Mind" . . . with John Hartford . . . and the story behind it of how Glen 'fixed' the beat/timing of it. So awesome, so perfect.

     Oh . . . that's it? It's over?" . . . No.

     I will never erase this!

     Somewhere . . . somehow . . . the music lives on . . . and so do we.

     And don't ask me to explain that. I'm just the W.O.W.

Sarah

My Detroit Neighborhood -- Back In The Day (Originally Written in 2010)

Detroit Neighborhoods--Back In The Day
Boundary of Woodward/John R - 7 Mile/State Fair

My father lived at 492 Fernhill as a boy in the 1920s; I lived with him and my mom at 456 Fernhill as a child in the 1940s.

When I googled the neighborhood and rode the cyberspace arrow up and down the streets, I could not believe the destruction and neglect. At least half the houses on Fernhill are gone.

When I saw the empty lot where my house used to be, it broke my heart. How crazy is that! It was more than 60 years ago! My dad's house still standing was a wonderful surprise. In my mind's eye, I can see the street and the people as they were so long ago. I don't know why I care. Maybe it has something to do with being a writer.

On the North side of the street, it appears the house once owned by the Maynards, the Etheringtons, and the Hopps family (492) remain.

On the South side, across from where 456 used to be, the house owned by the Luscitch family in the 1940s is also still standing.

Time has not been kind to this little community but it was a wonderful and safe place to grow up in the 1940s.

From Fernhill we walked to the corner of Havannah, turned right one block, and there was our beautiful school, Grayling Elementary. What has happened to this school? The building remains but it is not listed as a Detroit elementary school.

From 456, my friends and I would walk two blocks to Beauman, turn left and pass a little convenience store on the right filled with penny candy or continue a few more short side blocks up to 7 Mile to Brown's Creamery, where my Grandma Hopps, the store manager, would give us delicious double-dip chocolate cones for TWELVE CENTS!

In the summer, my friends and I would walk the 2-1/2 blocks over to State Fair and spend the entire day at the Fairgrounds!

I remember the fire there in 1942. I was four and sat on my dad's shoulders as he and half the neighbors walked over to watch the horror and listen to the screaming horses.

We did not have a car then and my dad rode the bus to and from work. Sometimes I would walk to the other end of Fernhill, to Charleston, (remember when they built that manufacturing plant there?), turn left two short blocks and meet him at the top of the stone steps he walked up when he got off the bus by the viaduct at State Fair.

Or we could walk up Charleston to 7 Mile and turn left a block or two and be at Trinity Reformed Church, where my dad went to church as a boy and my grandma still attended in the 1940s.

Our next door neighbors, the Hoffmans, attended Epiphany Lutheran Church located across the street a little ways from the creamery. It was such a beautiful church, I wished I was Lutheran so I could go there. It is now known as Oasis of Hope Christian Church.

If you have memories or pictures you are willing to share of those "grand old days", please contact LibralLady@aol.com

Thanks!
Dawn Hopps Coyle Bohannon
AKA Sarah Barnes

To Pee Or Not to Pee . . . (Originally Written 02 27 2017)

Bathrooms . . .

I sit here listening to the News and the discussion about bathrooms and who should go in which ones.

And my first reaction has always been – who cares?  A bathroom is a bathroom is a bathroom.  As long as there are stalls for privacy who cares?

And then I pause . . . and reflect.

I remember being a little girl in my Detroit neighborhood.  Such grand memories.  We played kick the can and baseball and sometimes my girlsfriends and I played “house” up in my attic playroom . . . or on the porch.  We were mommies and our dolls were our babies . . .

And then . . . I was a teenager and going to high school . . . and I had a boyfriend . . . and he was my forever love . . . and we went to dances and . . .
And then . . . I was a young bride . . . waking down the aisle of the church . . .  promising to love and honor my husband . . .

And then . . . I was a young mother . . . with my firstborn . . . and second born . . . and third born . . . and fourth born . . . and then . . . on my own and working once again . . . and then . . . a grandma . . .

And then . . . I start to think of others . . . who never really knew who they were . . . or struggled trying to understand who they were . . .

And tears fill my eyes . . . and my heart wrenches . . . because . . . because that kind of confusion . . . anguish . . . was something I have NEVER had to come to terms with.

The Big and Small Of It . . . Again

SoSaysSarah
06 08 2017

The Big and Small Of It – Again

Here I sit, as usual of a warm morning -- on the porch with The Rock and my coffee for my morning meditation.  Which is also when I get the most inspiration/ideas about life, my life, my kids, the world, ya-da ya-da.

So here goes. Again.

Thanking Him for my blessings and what a beautiful world I have been fortunate enough to inhabit, my mind is drawn back to the snippet of news I heard last night (which I want to review/research more) about the latest findings of where/how/when humans originated.  I only caught bits and pieces but the consensus of this latest study indicates the studiers think we are much older than previously thought.

Oh.  Ok.  Maybe.  Who says?  How come? Or, what if . . .

That’s the way my brain thinks.  Always has, always will. I like it like that.

Following THAT train of thought I am reminded of the post I saw yestserday on Facebook, another silly test – what profession are you best suited for?  I took it. Mine came up Lawyer.  Lawyer?  GAH!

(I used to type depositions (for pay) for my court reporter friend wherein I learned, first-hand, how lawyers will take three paragraphs to say something that more clearly could have been stated in one sentence.  But then, sometimes, that IS the point.) Highly educated people often do this. 😕

And then, synchronitically (is there such a word?) it came into my head – maybe I AM lawyer-like.  In my thinking, I mean.  I tend to see BOTH – or more than both -- sides to almost every issue.  Understanding the perspectives of everyone.

Finding the right ‘balance’ – the ‘fine line in the middle’, the most logical, the most just, most respectful, most merciful – solution in resolving the issues we as individuals and society at large face is and always will be the difficulty.

So – Back to my thoughts with regard to last night’s News and the Age of Humans.

They were, of course, discussing “The Big Picture” -- who are we, where did we come from? IS there a parallel universe?  What IS String Theory? That star is how many million miles away, did you say???

Those of us currently, or previously, residing on this amazing planet called Earth – have been and will continue to research/study/argue about The BIG Picture. ‘Cuz we’re human AND we have a brain, a consciousness.  So be it.

We will be discussing/arguing/studying this to . . . Infinity. And learning, of course. (Hopefully.) 😉

But then – there is “The SMALL Picture”.

You know.  Small as in – family concerns, jobs, society’s problems, health care, immigration, world issues/conflicts.  The day-to-day issues for us humans.  Right here, right now.  Problems that need solutions.  Now.

Whatever we think about The BIG Picture – whatever our religious beliefs or lack thereof – we CAN all agree on how to solve some of the issues of The SMALL Picture.

The Small Picture of the Here and Now.  Our time. Our lives.  Our World.

∙ We can be kind and thoughtful to one another.
∙ We can respectfully disagree.
∙ We can show compassion and help those in need.
∙ We can be honest and responsible in our behavior.
∙ We can practice forgiveness.
∙ We can get up every morning, go to work, earn our money,
              and take care of our families.

And THAT’S some Truth about which we can ALL agree!

Blessings!
Sarah

Boys Town & Father Flannigan (1938)

So here we are, me and John, watching Boys Town; 1938 B&W movie with Mickey Rooney and Spencer Tracy.  Based on the real life story of Father Flanagan.

Ten minutes into the movie and the tears are falling.  It's what happens to W.O.Ws.

The music, the buildings, the clothes, the cars -- all of it touches my heart.  And not just because it illicits memories of my childhood.

Have you ever seen it?  You should. The message, the music, memories from my childhood.  But so much more.

Maybe it WAS Hollywood -- but these stories always had a message.  A moral message.  This movie epitomises it.

If ever we needed the message of this movie . . .

Beauty and the Mess . . . (10 16 2015)

     So here I am again – on my screenless porch – with my coffee – and Rocky – and two MORE puppies. (Puppy sitting for a couple of days). 
     (Well, one puppy, the littlest one, Cissy, is hunkered down in her crate in the living room – free to come and go as she pleases – except she pleases to stay in it most of the time. The Vet told my daughter she had a scar on her head indicating head trauma so we think she was abused before my daughter got her. Cissy is uncomfortable with new places/people.)
     The beauty of the morning, though chilly, touches me. Soon I will be taking my morning coffee/meditation inside next to the fireplace but for now I am still enjoying these outdoor mornings.
     The beauty of my world – the people, the places, the things and times of my life – overwhelm me with gratitude. My little corner of the world has been so safe, secure, and lovely – mostly. And I think of the many more physically beautiful places on this earth – most of which I will never see. Except in TV documentaries.
     The beauty – and the mess – of the world . . .
     Once again – this thought overwhelms me and my heart squeezes and pushes water from my eyes. I wish, somehow I could "fix it" -- the mess, I mean.
     Silly me. Well, they don’t call me W.O.W.(*), for nuthin’, you know.

* * * * *

     I watched Oprah on the Stephen Colbert Show (or whatever he calls it now) last night. I have always perceived her to be a great role model and example. Based on the few programs of hers I have seen and the snippets of her life I have read.

     Last night she and Stephen teased each other a bit, as you would expect. She laughingly referred to herself as "the preacher girl" which she told him was her nickname as a youngster because she was always spouting scripture.
     I get the impression – rightly or wrongly – that Oprah herself is a Christian. But through her experiences and opportunities has been exposed to many influential people of all sorts of beliefs. And that she has found common ground in many of these belief systems.
     Kind of what I have experienced, as well. Growing up Christian but in adulthood getting to know folks of various persuasions – Catholics, Lutherans, Methodists, Jews, Buddhists, Atheists.

* * * * *

     The beauty and the logic of God . . .  I/we can’t really comprehend it, can we? All these nations. All these peoples. All this religion. All this fighting – so often over religion. Or the lack thereof.
     Gets complicated. For me, maybe, but not for God.
     Seems to me it starts with where you are born. America during my lifetime has been, mostly, a Christian leaning country. My parents were Christian, most everyone I knew until adulthood attended Christian churches. So it’s understandable for me to have embraced their beliefs initially. But as I grew up and studied the Bible for myself, it still made sense to me and I have continued to embrace its teachings, even as I have been exposed to and compared various other persuasions.
     But what about all these folks in other countries – Japan, India, Iraq, Israel, Turkey, Greece. Etcetera, etcetera. Such contradiction. Such conflict. Who’s right? Who’s wrong?
     I can’t figure it out. I can’t solve it. And my soul hurts for all the pain and anguish that these conflicting beliefs produce in the world. The fighting, the wars.
     I can’t solve this. But then God reminds me – it’s not YOUR problem; it’s MINE. MY job. And the pain in my heart subsides once more. 

* * * * *

     We are ALL His children. It doesn’t matter whether we’re born in Iran or Italy or Japan or . . .  Hoboken . . .  :)
     We likely start out believing what our parents tell us to believe. Inch by inch we start thinking for ourselves. Sometimes we embrace our parents’ beliefs, sometimes not. Whatever. If we are seeking God, He will find us.
     He takes us wherever He finds us and brings us to where we need to be.
     All we have to do is seek His will . . . and follow.
Blessings!
Sarah　
(*) Kids = Wacky Old Woman
      Me   =  Wise Old Woman