More Memories...

After writing a blog about memories last night, I went to bed and as I lay there I thought back to Carol and I running through my grandparent's home and I found myself laughing out loud. As I laid there thinking back, I couldn't help but laugh and smile. I guess it was just something you would have to had been there to understand. Sort of like the song says: You Should Have Seen It In Color.
What I failed to mention in my last blog, was that it was usually late at night after everyone had gone to bed for the night that Carol and I would whisper to each other that we should run through the house. It was usually Carol who actually came up with the plan and I would go along.
The blueprint of the house was a rectangle. There was no hall in the house. Each room was connected with three rooms on the right side and three rooms on the left. The middle room on the left side had a bathroom built into it sort of like a square inside of a square. So when we ran through the house at breakneck speed it was in a circle of sorts. This drove my Pop-Paw crazy! He wouldn't get up to make us go to bed but would holler out to us to stop and when we didn't, he would appeal to the adult females in the house to 'Please' make us stop.
Running through the house wasn't the only mischief we got into. There was one phone in the house and it was on the wall beside the front door. The phone was a rotary phone and in those days you could dial '0' and actually speak to an operator. It was high up and we would have to pull a chair up so we could reach it. Night after night we prank called people and asked them if their ice-box was running or if their nose was running and of course told them that they had better go catch it. For the most part we could keep our giggles down to a minimum as to not wake the grown ups. The poor neighbors were some of our victims. To this day I don't know if they ever knew that it was us keeping them up at night.
There are so many memories of being at my grandmother's home, I doubt I could ever write them down. I have always called it my grandmother's house and never really said "I'm going to see my grandparents or I'm going to see Pop-Paw" It was always "I'm gong to see Munner". Munner is what I called my grandmother because I couldn't pronounce Mother when I first learned to talk. I heard my mother and her sisters calling their mother,'Mother' so I thought that was what I should call her, hence Munner came into existence.
I spent a lot of time there over the years as did several of my cousins. It seemed that there was always at least one daughter and several cousins staying at my grandparent's (Munner's) home. The reason there was usually someone staying there, is one of the daughters would leave their husbands (or run from them) and go home to stay with their parents.
We didn't mind or at least I didn't. I adored my Munner and loved being there. It was the safest place I knew.
My granddaughters haven't tried running through the house at night or making prank calls...yet. Maybe I shouldn't tell them about this memory of mine...I don't want to give them any ideas. :) But knowing me... I would probably run with them and help them dial the numbers...Shhh!

Memories...

There are times that I remember. It’s funny how little things happen or someone mentions something and memories that have been forgotten come flooding back. It doesn’t always have to be a spoken word that brings the memories back. A flower on the side of the road, a bird chirping or even a smell can suddenly make these memories appear. Not all memories are pleasant and not all are unpleasant. Some memories are wonderful and sweet. Some are hard to think about. Rather good or bad, these memories and the experience from the memories are what makes me the person that I am.
I’ve been told (by a few people) that I should write a book about my life. I don’t believe I am qualified to write a book but I have given some thought to simply writing about some of my memories.
My granddaughter’s were swimming in the pool a couple of weeks ago and the youngest, Kylee walked around the edge of the pool and called “Daddy!” I was sitting in a chair beside my daughter Kayli and daughter-in-law Kim. I smiled and said to Kim, “Don’t you know this pool looks huge to her little eyes?” “Remember when you were little and everything looked really big and when you grew up, they looked almost small?” Kim agreed with me and we continued watching the babies in the pool with Nathan.
Sitting there, my mind went back to my grandmother’s home. I remembered the rooms and how big they were back then. I remembered running barefoot through the rooms with my aunt Carol, who is eight months older than me. My grandfather yelling “ Hea’h, Ya’ll stop that now!“ and the two of us giggling and running faster from room to room. To me that house was grand. After growing up, I realized it really wasn’t that big at all. Six rooms and a bathroom but it had been the hub of my life.
A few minutes passed and Kylee was jumping into the pool to her Daddy. Kennedie was yelling “Look Mee-Maw! Watch me!” with Kamberlyn chiming in after her. Watching them so carefree and happy was a new memory forming for later years when they are all grown up and aren’t concerned with their Mee-Maw watching them. Sweet memories that I will hold dear.
These new memories help me push the memory of my own father standing on the bank of an old muddy pond, holding me and telling me that he was going to throw me in and that it was the best way for me to learn how to swim. I was about three years old and terrified. In my short life I had learned that this man could be mean. I had learned to stay away from him but, that wasn’t always possible. He didn’t throw me in but, he did manage to frighten me nearly to death. He placed a memory in my mind that has never gone away, nearly fifty years later. I can remember thinking “Where is my mother?” and praying to God to please let her come and get me. Yes I knew how to pray even at the young age of three. Prayer was my refuge. It still is.
Some may wonder why I would write about this unpleasant memory after writing about the good ones.
It is these unpleasant memories that make the good ones all the better.
They make me really appreciate the fact that my son is a loving father and his children call “Daddy” to him to get his attention. They make me really appreciate the fact that my granddaughters are carefree and happy children.
The pool memory put a deep rooted determination in me to do things on my own. To learn how to swim alone and without the ‘help’ or command of anyone else.
Memories are powerful things.

I plan to write more about my memories later…

Sour Taste

I like to think that I’m a pretty laidback, easygoing and all around fun person to be around. I also hope that I am fair and understanding as well as compassionate to other people; regardless if I know them personally or have just met them.
There are two things that I have a very low tolerance for: Hypocrisy and Racism. I feel passionately about both subjects and in my opinion they go hand in hand.
After all it takes a great deal of hypocrisy to assume that ones self is better in any way than another human being because of the color of one’s skin.
I was born and raised in East Texas and know firsthand prejudges that are prevalent in this area. They aren’t as open or out in the open as they were when I was a child but unfortunately they still exist.
I was reminded of this unfortunate fact last week while I was out with friends and it has left a sour taste in my mouth. The sour taste is disappointment not only in the fact that there are still ignorant people who are mean spirited and full of hate but also that there are still people who either can’t or won’t make a stand for what is right. Some of which are friends of mine.
Without going into too much detail and to make a long story short, I was out with friends Saturday night. While with these friends, I met a man who irritated me from the beginning. He was pushy and tried to be touchy feely when I gave him absolutely no indication that he could be.
A little later my friends and I were at Denny’s and who came in but the irritating man and one of his friends. And what does he do? He comes over to where we were sitting and takes a seat next to me in the booth. He then proceeds to try the touchy feely ‘crap’ again. I scooted over in my seat, looked him in the eye and told him “Don’t touch me! I didn’t ask you to touch me and if I had wanted you to, I would have let you know!” Keep your hands to yourself!” He said “Oh we have a mean one here” and acted as though he thought it was funny, which only irritated me more!
The waitress came up to take our orders and I told her that I needed a little more time. As she was walking away, the irritating man said “ Hey girl! Come here” I could see on her face that she didn’t appreciate his arrogance and I told him “Don’t call her girl. How would you like it if she called you boy? She has a name” His response was “ What should I call her? Nigger?” Needless to say I had to refrain myself! My hand shot up and I popped him on his shoulder and said “Don’t talk like that! What’s wrong with you?”
I was furious! If I had sat there a second longer I would have gone ballistic. My friend’s were sitting in front of me and not saying a word! This upset me also.
I actually climbed over the seat to get out of the booth. I couldn’t even bring myself to ask this Idiot to move out of my way and I feared that I might take a notion to kick him out of my way…so over the back of the seat I went.
The security guard saw what I had done and asked me if everything was okay. I told him “NO it isn’t and I really wish that man, that I don’t know and didn’t invite, was sitting somewhere else!” So the security guard goes over and asked him to move away.
I was relieved because I really wasn’t wanting to make a scene with my friend’s being there.
But to my surprise when I sat back down, the person that I believed would know how I feel on the subject of racism, asked me if I had told the $%&@ cops to ask him to move!
I really couldn’t believe my ears. She told me that she hates cops and doesn’t ask the cops for *$!%. That was the last thing I expected her to say.
I understand that everyone has their hang-ups. I know I do but, I really thought that she would ‘get’ where I was coming from.
I was/am more hurt than mad about her attitude and I don’t think she really knows how hurt I was/am.
The whole experience was a lesson learned for me.
I will continue to let my opinions be known and if it offends or embarrasses anyone, well I guess I will just have to distance myself.
I know what is right in my heart….and I know that most people do too.
Hopefully there will come a day when people can love and respect others, not is spite of their differences but because of them.
I thank God for allowing me to experience the privilege of having friends and family that are from different races.
The sour taste was there but, the sweetness of my love for my true friends, family and with the help of a merciful God I will overcome…
Oh taste and see that the Lord is good...Psalms 34:8