Nature Songs ~~~~
JUNE, 2002 ~

June 1, 2002 ~ A Senior Moment ~~ It’s always obvious to the younger generation when around the oldsters how they tend to blend in the past with the present, forgetting for a moment where they really are. Kidding the older ones, they make comments about those good old days and usually end with how happy they are to be living now instead of back then. One has to wonder about the future when today’s youngsters become the oldsters.

I’ve listened with patience to the many remembrances of Mother as she grows older. At this point in time, she gets something on her mind and keeps repeating the same episode over and over. Her pet theme for now is an unfortunate event with her brother-in-law. It happened so many years ago, I have to think that there is no way for her to remember it so vividly. Yet, she remembers not only the event, but also the hurt that has been held inside hidden all this time. She is unable to let go at this point in time and keeps harping on the why and wherefore for the hurtful words that fell on her ears. She goes over and over the same scene and describes the things and people as well as the words and tries to figure out an answer which will never come.

My advice to her is to let bygones be bygones and think of the pleasant things in her life. There is much too little time in life to hold on to the hurtful times. Of course all this concern she harbors has no effects on her brother-in-law. All the punishment and hurt is within her. He no doubt has no recollection of something that probably happened over fifty years ago. To Mother, it happened only last week.

I had my own senior moment the other day. It was not an unhappy one such as Mother’s. It was merely remembering. My own grandchildren are so used to being handed everything via the machine age. It is difficult for them to take the energy to carry in things from the car on the carport to the table in the house. That’s probably less that twenty-five feet distance. This is what built the bridge back to when I was their age.

I traveled back through the years to the mid forties. Mother and Dad and BJ lived in the log cabin behind the church. I spent part of the weekends and some of the summer weeks with them. We had no car. We had little money. Mother was the only one working since Dad was too sick to work. It would be five years or more before the tumor hidden between Dad’s eyes and brain would finally be located and removed - making him well again.

Mother would make a list of things for my brother and me to do during the day before leaving about daybreak. We respected our parents and did what we were instructed to do. There were never any excuses for not getting things done. That was not an option to consider as it often is today. We had our pillow fights with the feathers flying into every nook of the room. We knew we had to get all the feathers up before Mother came home from work. Being the angels we were supposed to be didn’t leave room for floating feathers, unwashed dishes or the grass not mowed with the push mower.

The biggest responsibility that we were required to carry out was also the hardest one. Mother would leave a grocery list and most times some money, for us to take to the grocery store and buy the food we needed. That meant a walk through one block along a narrow path between the houses. The next block did have a road of sorts, but it was full of ruts since the city didn’t keep it scraped and graveled and then are through one more block with a slight hill to maneuver. Just across the paved road that the city bus traveled along was a small dirty white wooden building with a green roof and all sorts of fresh vegetables placed around in baskets and boxes on the porch. The family that owned the store had living space in the back and upstairs. The girl there was my age and several years we were in class together.

BJ and I would go through the screen door and in cold weather, the squeaky wooden door. We stopped at the checkout counter to tell them that we had a list of things to get for Mother. Often they would run around and gather up what was on the list as we stood at the front of the store waiting till the cost was totaled up. After paying the bill, or having it put on the charge list to pay later, there were the paper bags of groceries packed and ready for us to carry back home. Back then, the store people knew how to pack a bag leaving little wasted space. For my brother and me they generally tried to even up the heavy things such as flour, sugar and lard, so it would be easier for us to carry. Even so, when you are carrying two or three bags as you retrace your steps back home, they can get extremely heavy as you trod across the three blocks of mill houses. Sometimes there may be a dog to bark or give chase adding to the challenge of getting everything back home.

Suddenly, I blinked my eyes and realized that for a quickly passing moment I was living back in Hickory and was young. With another blink of the eye the present time flooded back to mind with the realization that I was not in Hickory , but in Lenoir.

Today none of the terrain and physical evidence of the past are around to jolt the memory along that beaten path of the forties. The log cabin apartment was moved several blocks the opposite direction and my uncle and his family lived in it for a while. The other houses around it were torn down to make way for huge power lines to invade the city. All the mill houses on the three blocks are gone. Two of the blocks now house the transformers for the power lines that feed into and out of it. A fire station stands on a corner close to where once stood the neighborhood grocery story. It has already been turned into a home for abused wives and children and another fire station houses the modern fire trucks too large to enter the bays of the former station.

The grocery store? Gone! Where once there was the building now there is a bridge and below are all the cars and trucks making the trip toward the mountains and Lenoir or in the opposite direction toward Gastonia and I-85. The church is still on the same lot, but the building is not the same. The older building was torn down to build the present education building and Growth Room. A newer Sanctuary has been built closer to the road in front of it. Nothing is there that once was.


June 2, 2002 ~ Life We Mortals Live ~~ Such a busy, busy life we mortals live in the name of “haft’s to.” There is never a slower pace to choose.. Instead, more time is filled with doing those things that need to be taken care of. For me, this past week, it meant looking after grandchildren. How is it possible to allow two of them to spend the night without the third one joining in? NascarKid came to stretch out on the bed beside me and talk one night. He dozed off to sleep before he knew what was happening. I didn’t have the heart to awaken him. Having gone through an aggressive growing spell he needed the whole bed for stretching out. Even then, his feet hung off the foot of the bed so his arms would have room above his head as he slept on his stomach. Around three a.m. I decided it was time to work some at the computer. I would sleep later.

Thursday afternoon, I drove with the boys to Morganton to pick up Giggles from daycare. She and DynoKid had an appointment with the dentist and Mom had a hair appointment (getting ready for her trip to Australia.) While we were in the office, NascarKid remained in the car and listened to the radio and read. Miss Giggles spent her time waiting while DynoKid was getting his teeth cleaned and Fluoride-ed looking at the children’s books. A special book about The Rainbow Blue Fish was her favorite and she had to study the pictures in it several times. Time for her to go back and get her teeth cleaned for the very first time and surprisingly, she opted to go by herself with the Technician. She did exceptionally well and came back to me carrying a colorful bag with a new toothbrush and pencil inside and three stickers in the other hand. All went well for her.

All the boys spent one night at home with their parents, but BingoKid was with me the next night. Friday night was the busiest for me. Wendy graduated from the Community College. DynoKid and I went along with Wes and the boys and Wendy’s family to watch. We were lucky this year since the Community College chose to have two graduation ceremonies since so many were finishing school this year. Some went at five, but we were in the eight o’clock group. The Civic Center was filled to the brim with parents, family and friends and were asked to wait until all was over to clap since the program was being taped for television. It was evident which of the group would be classified as “Rednecks” by the way they yelled and whistled at the wrong times. We in the audience laughed when the president of the college announced that only one was graduating in one area of study. Those in the graduating class looked around with puzzled looks; they didn’t see the one student raise his lone arm and wave it back and forth signifying that he was the one.

Wendy surprised us all during the ceremony. She had not told us that she was graduating with honor and would be sporting a yellow tassel to denote her success. Her Schoolteacher Momma was beaming with pride as was Dad, Grandma, Hubby, Sons and me. Little Busy Kid lived up to his name and kept quiet, but busy during the program. When Wendy walked across the stage, he tried to get her attention by calling out “Hey, Mom! Mommie, Mommmmmiiiieee!” He was much too quiet to be hear other than just around where we sat. Wendy got a surprise as well. She was nominated by her peers to receive a special plaque for work well-done;

Being disappointed that nothing had been planned for celebrating her receiving the degree and having a place to work already, Wendy was a bit sad. Her Mom came to the rescue and planned a surprise get-together on Saturday night. It was such a surprise that Wes had a problem getting her back to enjoy it after supper out together in Hickory. All-in-all it turned out to be a special time of celebration for our families.

After the graduation program Friday evening, Allan came by to take DynoKid home with him for the night. Early Saturday morning, Allan took DynoKid and Buddy Boy to a special trout fishing affair for kids twelve and under at a pool not far from his home. It was DynoKid’s first time to fish with him and learned that he loved to fish! He wants to go again - soon. He caught six trout with seven being the limit. One of them was fourteen inches long and lacked one and a half inches being the longest one caught. Buddy Boy was proud of the three that he caught. The fish were cleaned and gutted so that DynoKid could give them to his Dad to cook and enjoy. No, DynoKid and NascarKid probably will not taste them. Little do they know what a succulent meal fresh trout make. DynoKid was concerned that the heads were no removed. I described to him how so much of the meat was around the head and if you cut off the head you also lost much of the meat. It’s been a long time since I’ve cooked any trout ....

June 3, 2002 ~ Time For Changes ~~ The month of May was filled with record low temperatures for our area. Now June is starting out with record high temperatures.. Only a few weeks ago the high temperature for the day was in the high fifties. Last night we had a muggy low temperature in the high sixties while yesterday afternoon registered on the thermometer in the low nineties. Factoring in the heat index for the day and we were filling a heat closer to 100. The average high for our area of the country this time of year is 83 degrees F. The thunderstorms that headed this way never made it across the mountains. What little water had accumulated in the clouds never made its way to earth. It all evaporated before it could fall to earth. We are in for another summer of draught conditions.

I read somewhere earlier that we should be on the lookout for an over abundance of snakes this summer due to the heat and lack of water. No one would ever have expected what was found in the small town of Sawmills located between Lenoir and Hickory. A lady was out mowing her yard when her neighbor called over to her to watch out for a snake he saw in a pine tree she was working around. On closer examination they found more and more snakes along the branches of the tree. She called the Sheriff’s office to see what they suggested she do about them.

To her amazement the Sheriff’s office informed her that they didn’t deal with situations like hers. They also advised her that the animal control didn’t make house calls to remove snakes. She would have to contact her own snake exterminator to come out and help her with getting rid of the snakes. She located a man that did snake removals as a second job. He suggested that it was best to wait until nighttime to attempt the removal of the snakes.

Night fell and he came to begin his task. Using a long wooden handle with a hook on the end, he managed to nab a dozen snakes of various sizes and place them in a plastic garbage pail. Three snakes had been killed during the day and some escaped back into the nearby woods. The man suggested that the snakes he identified as corn snakes - commonly called black snakes- had come out of the woods to sun themselves among the limbs of the pine tree. He took the captured reptiles with him to release in a more secluded area away from people. I’ll have a new respect for the pine trees around here for awhile.

Thinking of how the grandsons are growing, I decided changes were needed for sleeping here when they come for the night. Wally World had a sale on summer items last week. One of them happened to be a Coleman queen size bed that pumped up for camping trips. It was exactly what I needed here at home. The weight limit happened to be 600 pounds. With no jumping or playing on the bed that should hold up and do nicely for sleep-overs by the grandsons. So I purchased a bed and a pump that would inflate the bed in less than five minutes. Once home, it was an immediate hit with one and all.

BingoKid was the first to sleep on the new bed. It’s just the right size to place in the middle of the den floor and have room to walk around it. Charlie had to stand in the middle of it and investigate everything as it plumped out with air the first time. He has an aversion to the sound of vacuum cleaners, hair dryers, etc. since he is groomed and therefore he barked for the entire process of preparing the bed for a night of sleep. Once ready for sleeping and the pump was put up, all barking ceased as Charlie accepted the new bed for the boys. Oreo paid it no attention and if anything he ignored the new bed on the floor. Oreo is getting in the habit of sleeping in the computer room where he is away from the normal chatter of children when they are here in the house.

June 4, 2002 ~ Fair-To-Middling & Dr. Pepper ~~ How does this phrase and soda relate to each other? They don’t as far as one interacting with the other. But ... on the other hand, there are definite memories that each bring vividly to mind. Yet, the people remembered are very different and not actually related to each other. Memories are a puzzlement. Having suppressed them for so many years, finally they begin to surface and with them are some very special moments of my life - wherein these two words emerge.

Don’t ask why I would be recalling “fair-to-middling.” I have no earthly idea! It just happened to slip into one of the early morning meditations savored during the quiet period of time before beginning another day. These are times well spent and set the tone for the day ahead. This day? Another hot and muggy one. Five am and the thermometer registers seventy-two degrees ... and in spite of the warm morning , I have to say that I feel fair-to-middling this day.

My Grandpa - Dad’s Dad - was a very soft spoken man who never raised his voice in anger or complained about his health or any misfortune. We held a special relationship - the two of us - and I still hold him in very high esteem. He would be brought to anger on occasion, but he chose to keep his feelings and thoughts within. There would be a tightness along his jaw line, a faraway look in his eye and he would clamp down hard on his pipe, puffing a bit deeper, but no words of anger or frustration. So it was when asked about his health or how he was feeling, as well. His reply was always the same, “Oh, I’m fair to middling, thank you.”

Grandpa was fiercely strict and upheld an exceedingly high standard of living by the Bible. Morning was begun with a family prayer. There was a prayer before each meal, with only one word changed each time denoting the time of day: “Accept our thanks, Heavenly Father, Forgive our sins. Bless this noon time food for the nourishment of our bodies. Amen.” The day ended with the family gathered around Grandmother as she read the Bible and praying together before turning in for the night.

Grandpa walked the three miles or so to and from work. Work was in the Cotton Mill in Brookford along the bank of South Fork River. His job was working on the machinery and keeping it running smoothly as the raw cotton bales came in daily to work its way through the mill and leaving as huge spools of thread ready for weaving cloth and smaller spools for sewing the cloth once it was woven.

Returning home in time for supper, you would think he would be tired and ready to rest, but there was no time for resting before bedtime. Household chores for him including building the fire in the cookstove each morning, and drying the dishes after they were washed. Outdoors, there was wood to cut and split before carrying enough indoors to fill the woodbox behind the cookstove. (I’ve carried in many a load of wood from the woodshed.) When the garden was planted, he was the one to do most of the work with it and any animals outdoors like the chickens and hog were his domain.

Grandpa found time for laying a rock walkway to the front door, a walk down the hill from the main road, building a swing for the front porch as well as pieces of furniture for the house or to sell. He was the master of filing saws making them sharp again when they became dull from use. A sign hung outside his workshop, “Bob’s Saw Sharpening”. His advertising was by word of mouth and people came from far and near to have their saws sharpened, straightened and made usable once again.

Amid his broad range of abilities, one cannot forget his poetry of life around him or the songs he made to go with some of the poems. My uncle has some of his poems, but I have no copies of any, only the memories. He made his own Ukulele which he strummed quite well for one with no lessons and playing strictly by ear.

Health was a problem as the years amassed for Grandpa. He suffered a stroke in his early fifties ( as I did!), but overcame the major afflictions in the months to follow. Literally years, he suffered severe pain which disrupted his sleep as his arteries hardened and the blood supply dwindled to his legs. Finally, it all culminated in the loss of a leg. Through it all, he was always, “Fair to middling” whenever anyone asked how he was doing.

About a mile away, walking up and down the steep hills of the dusty red clay road on a steamy hot day would bring me to Grandmother’s house. That last hill to climb before arriving in the backyard of the huge two story white house was a doosy. One had to stop and rest a spell to recoup from the heat and steep climb before making it to the top of the hill. There were still the steep steps - about eight of them - to climb before entering the back door into the kitchen. If Grandmother had been canning food for the coming winter, the kitchen would be stifling hot. When all was cleaned, a coolness greeted me as I walked in.

Being that Mother was one of twelve children, I had many cousins! They all called Grandmother, Nanny, except for BJ and myself. Mother and my aunt always insisted on our using “correct language” which meant no shortening of names, slang or else wise. Grandmother was always telling us to call her Nanny like all the others. She thought Grandmother was too highfalutin for her. So, ... one day after carrying in a load of wood for her cookstove, BJ announced, “Okay, Granny, Is there anything else you want done?” “Yes! Call me Grandmother. I like it more than Granny.” She never asked us to call her Nanny after that.

She often would bring out some lemons, slice them through the middle to squeeze out the tantalizing juice and make us some lemonade to sip on as we cooled down from the steamy heat of summer in the South. If we were really lucky, she would walk over to the huge walk-in pantry, open the door and expose the stash of bottled drinks stored within, offering us one of our choice. Mother’s oldest brother worked for RC Cola Bottling Company which had a company between there and downtown. He often would bring her some drinks by the case to stock up the pantry for use later.

My favorites were the orange and grape crushes. I still remember vividly the deliciously strong taste of orange and grape as I sipped from the glass bottle and the fizzing, bubbly liquid seemed to explode in my mouth with flavor. The bottle I relished most was when Grandmother would offer me one of her own very favorite drink. It was the only one she drank except for Cheerwine - another one I like. A drink that one either loves or hates, I would never turn down her offer. Like my Grandmother, I loved Dr. Pepper! Nothing could ever compare to the sweet, tangy taste of Dr. Pepper.

The other day, Tbird picked up some drinks for use here at the house since so many are in and out a lot. Her boys enjoy Dr. Pepper and she remembered how much I enjoy it. She got a twelve pack of cans of both the regular and diet Dr. Pepper. It has a much better taste when poured from the can into a glass before sipping the drink that has changed little during the years from then to now. Cost? It was on special with a coupon ... two dollars for a pack of twelve cans.





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