Gathering Life

Blogging, Blogs and Bloggers

2015-02-04T09:09:00.000-06:00

First, before I start over on the blog I deleted; deleted instead of editing like I meant to do. It was a good one too. First, some things I know: I know that Simon and Garfunkle music is poetry. I was reminded of this once more watching the Mindy Project. This is a good show. If Howard Stern says it is good usually it is. His shock jock imagine can be overlooked by me. I see past the black and white of most things. I watch Family Guy with the idea that, there are Peter's in the world; just like there were Archie Bunkers. I am actually quoting a friend on this. Black and White is not a way to look at blogs or bloggers. I have to look at this in the grey area that I look at most things. You really do what you have to do and never say never. Blogs are opinions of the writter. Blogs are people putting their thought down on paper. My daughters tell me they can tell the mood I am in by what I have blogged. I have gotten in trouble by one of my blogs. It must have been a bad day. I also, in the previous blog about bloggers and blogs made a statement about Shoalanda the I just assumed to be true because I read it somewhere. I may have not even read the whole thing. I mentioned that she had taken down a blog. When I went back I realized she had not taken down or even mentioned the story. I also assumed that Pen and Sword was her, I guess. Assume, the thing that can make an ass out of u and me. I don't even know if she is a she. Shoalanda just sounds like a girls name to me. I have read her for along time. She has my blog link on her page. I am thankful for that. OB, also has my link on his; I thank him for that. OB may be a girl. Once again I am assuming because OB sounds like a boy. I think if all would look it would be easy to know who I am. I add pictures of my family. One time I wish that everyone didn't know who I was. My blog that got me, got on to. I was in trouble and didn't even know what for. I really count to much on, I am nice and good to everyone, why would anyone want to hurt me. This is another thing that I know. I know that there is always someone that wants to hurt you, no matter how hard you try to treat others right. It is easy for me to let others make me feel that I am not as smart or good as they are. When I was little I was the one out of six grandchildren that was picked on by the other five. The adults were the first to coax the five children to pick on me. It may have been something as simple as skipping spots cutting grass, but they pointed what I missed out and it was on. Look what she did. Feeling sorrry for myself is one of what it takes to be me. Praying that I do things right has always been a way for me to go on. I don't want anyone mad at me and I want to be as good as everyone else. Ask me how that is working out for me.

I Have Prayed all My Life

2015-01-26T16:25:00.000-06:00

I don't know how I knew, but I have always known there was God. Maybe at five I didn't percieve God as God. I did have a sense that looking up there was something to help me coming from above. Praying, yes it works. I have prayed all my life. The first prayers were not get on my knees, prayers. Hopes and Prayers to me were the same thing. Hoping that Daddy would come home. Mama acted better when he was there. Wishing were more like hope that the house didn't burn when my daddy was trying to light heater. He didn't burn the house, only caught his sock on fire. At pre-school age I consider now that my hopes were really prayers. The house maybe did catch on fire a little because I ran in the snow to our, neighbors from Kentucky's house. They called the fire department. The white foam they used was there until they put all our furniture out in the yard. Once, I must have forgot to pray/hope, because the bankers still wanted Daddy to pay for the house. Thinking as a five year old would, or the way I did as a five year old that Mama and Daddy weren't doing such a great job I was ever so happy to go to Grandma and Grandpa's to stay. It was warmer there. My bed was dry there. So, now my prayer/hope was to stay there. I prayed all the way from Detroit to Pulaski, because Daddy bought the Greyhound bus ticket to the wrong state. We were going to Alabama not Tennesee.
I knew that Grandmother Garner lived in Alabama. Why would he take me to the wrong state. My prayers were answered Grandmother, Aunt Faye, Amy and Jennifer were there waiting. I got to Alabama from Pulaski thanks to my standing up, praying for 700 miles. The prayers never stopped. I had to pray that I didn't have to leave Grandmother's. I did once for 4 months when the house burnt. They sent us to Uncle Keith's. Daddy was supposed to find us a home and not go back to Grandmother's. This made me sad everytime I heard the grown-ups say it; so I just pray/hope again that we get to go back to Grandmothers. It worked. That is why I love to say,"I know that was you God, thank you."

Blond Joke

2015-01-14T08:51:00.001-06:00

A young brunette goes into the doctor's office and says that her body hurts wherever she touches it.
"Impossible," says the doctor. "Show me."
She takes her fin...ger and pushes her elbow and screams in agony. She pushes her knee and screams, pushes her ankle and screams and so it goes on, everywhere she touches makes her scream.
The doctor says, "You're not really a brunette, are you?"
She says, "No, I'm really a blonde."
"I thought so," he says. "Your finger is broken."

I am Guilty

2015-01-13T08:23:00.002-06:00

This post may offend some readers. But only because it’s going to cut close to the bone for many.
And I don’t care if I sound old-fashioned, because actually it’s nothing to do with ‘fashion’ or ‘generation’. It’s got everything to do with basic good manners and respect for other people.
So here goes… How did it get to be “OK” for people to be late for everything?
Because as far as I am concerned, it’s not OK.
In recent years it seems that a meeting set to start at 9 am, for some people means in the general vicinity of any time which starts with the numeral ‘9’. Like 9.30 for example.
People drift in at 9.10 or 9.20, or even later. And they smile warmly at the waiting group, as they unwrap their bacon sandwich, apparently totally unconcerned that others have been there since five to nine, prepared and ready to start.
10 people kept waiting in a meeting for 20 minutes, while some selfish pratt who idles his way via the coffee shop, is actually 20 minutes times 10, which is 200 minutes wasted – while you keep us waiting because you did not catch the earlier bus. That is over 3 hours wasted. By you! How much has that cost the business? Shall I send you an invoice?
And an arrangement to meet someone for a business meeting at a coffee shop at 3 pm, more often than not means at 3.10 you get a text saying ‘I am five minutes away’ which inevitably means 10 minutes, and so you wait for 15 or 20 minutes, kicking your heels in frustration.
And often these ‘latecomers’ are people who have requested the meeting in the first place, are asking for your help, or are selling something. Fat chance mate!
And it’s not only business.
Why do people, invited for a dinner party at 7.30, think its cool to arrive at 8.30? It’s rude. It’s inconsiderate. And it’s selfish, as I witnessed in a coffee shop near my home one weekend. Three “ladies who lunch” (a species not confined to, but heavily represented on, the lower North Shore of Sydney) were chatting loudly at the table next to me. One inquired what time the ‘drinks do’ was that night. The reply for all the world to hear was ‘Oh 7.30, but we won’t get there till 9 because by then it will have warmed up and all the interesting people will have arrived’. Nice. Imagine if everyone took that view. Cocktail parties would start at 3 am eventually.
Or a dinner at a restaurant where I was meeting two other couples. My wife was away, so I was flying solo. I arrived at two minutes to eight for an eight o’clock booking. At 8.20, I was into my second glass of Pinot and at half-past I got a text saying ‘on the way’. We finally were all seated at 8.45. There were not even attempted excuses from either of the two couples, who seemed oblivious to the fact I might actually have got there at the agreed time. Meanwhile I had put a huge dent in the bottle of Pinot, and was ready to go home.
And it is not that we lead ‘busy lives’. That’s a given, we all do, and it’s a cop out to use that as an excuse. It’s simply that some people no longer even pretend that they think your time is as important as theirs. And technology makes it worse. It seems texting or emailing that you are late somehow means you are no longer late.
Rubbish.
You are rude. And inconsiderate.

Pickle Juice

2015-01-07T15:46:00.003-06:00

Did you know this about Pickle Juice?
PICKLE JUICE .. Who Knew !! Glad I Do No...w .. As kids we were told not to drink it .. LOL

Post-Workout Drink:
Forget coconut water. Athletes swear by pickle juice's scientifically proven benefits to exercise recovery. In one 2010 study, pickle juice halted post-workout muscle cramps in 85 seconds. That, plus its electrolyte-restoring powers has even yielded Pickle Juice Sport - a dill-flavored sports drink. But really, most athletes stick to good old Vlasic!
PMS Remedy:
For those same reasons, pickle juice is widely used as a cure for menstrual cramps. It may also prevent you from eating four bags of potato chips in one day. Not that we ever did that. That was a friend.
Potato Pick-Me-Up:
Add a heavy splash of pickle juice to a pot of simple boiled potatoes for a fantastic side dish. The flavors absorb so perfectly you won't want to add salt, butter, sour cream, or anything to these taters once you're done. Making potato salad? Skip the mayo, and toss with veggies and pickle juice for a much healthier (and more flavorful) version.
Pickleback Shot:
Odds are you've seen this cocktail on a bar menu sometime in the last couple years (lore has it they were first sold out of a London food truck in 2011). Perhaps you scoffed or called it a fad, but the truth is bartenders claim this to be the perfect complement to whiskey, instantly soothing the taste buds and aftershock of a rough liquor. Order one, and you will order five. For bonus points, follow that up with a Pickletini.
Hangover Cure:
If you can stomach it on a hangover tummy, pickle juice is a known folk remedy that actually works. It replenishes your depleted sodium levels and helps to assist in rehydration. In many countries, people even take a shot of pickle juice before going out to help prevent dehydration in the first place.
Vinegar Replacement:
Pickle juice works in place of vinegar in salad dressing, soups, or virtually any recipe. It is essentially vinegar on steroids.
Heartburn Cure:
Along with its flavor-boosting benefits, pickle juice seems to have the same health effects as straight-up vinegar. Particularly effective as a heartburn soother, pickle juice may also help to avoid blood-sugar spikes if taken with a meal.
Bloody Mary Booster:
On the not-as-healthy-but-just-as-important side of the spectrum, pickle juice is absolutely dynamite in a Bloody Mary. When its hangover-killing benefits combine with a little hair of the dog, nothing could make your Sunday morning any greater. Except cronuts.
Cleaning Agent:
Food industry insiders have been using pickle juice to clear blackened copper pans for years. It also works well as a grill cleaner, making those charred, crusted-on bits much easier to scrape off.
Dill Pickle Bread:
Make this. Make it now.
Pickle Popsicles:
True, you can buy these on pickleaddicts.com (actual, real thing), but you can also just pour some of this glorious nectar into pop molds, paper cups, or ice-cube trays and make your own savory summer snack.
Re-Pickler:
Or maybe you just want some more pickles? Empty your vegetable drawer and throw some onions, carrots, peppers, whatever, into the jar of leftover pickle juice. Let them sit for a few days and BOOM: new pickles!
Meat Tenderizer & Marinade:
Pickle juice has amazing meat-tenderizing abilities and, as a marinade, will add a ton of flavor to your meats, without the extra cals in heavy sauces or marinades. It works exceptionally well on chicken - some claim a skinless breast soaked overnight in pickle juice will taste like fried chicken when cooked, and we say that is voodoo but we're okay with it. Try it on cuts of pork and beef, too.
Fish Poacher:
There is very little in this world that sounds more healthy-boring than poached fish. But, add your pickle juice to the poaching water and you will never look back.
Weed Killer:
The high vinegar and salt content of pickle juice has made it a longtime favorite with gardeners. Dumping it on dandelions, thistle, and virtually all common weeds that crop up around your home. Bonus, it's pet-friendly and you probably already have it in your fridge!
Recipe Add-On:
We lost track of all the things you can add pickle juice to, but some favorites include: BBQ sauce, hummus, chicken salad, mac 'n' cheese, gazpacho, deviled eggs, vinaigrette, borscht, beet salad, salsa, bean dip, sauerbraten, and meatloaf.
Hiccup Stopper:
We've found little scientific evidence backing up this claim (and, frankly, we're glad the scientists are working on other things), but many, many people claim that the number-one cure for hiccups is a small glass of pickle juice. Given how well this stuff works on everything else in the world, we believe it.

It is Simple

2014-10-02T12:33:00.002-05:00

Simple; get up go to work everyday and you have no time to fail, too badly. Feeling sorry for one's self is common. I have done it lots of times, still do. I want to be rich. My aunt always wanted to be rich. She finally was, then she died. Today my thoughts are with my brother who has done great. He is doing a great deed for one of us that has not done so great. There is great. There is good. There is getting by and then there is homeless and addicted. Seems the addicted and homeless expect alot from the family that has done great. Look at what you have and I have nothing? Really who's fault is that? The person who has done great? We were taught by watching, mainly to take care of family. That is maybe not such a good thing. Taking care and enabling are the same thing really. Jobs for the older of us are not going to be easy to find.

My blogging has gotten me in trouble, only once. I still can't find what someone said, I said. It could have been a bad day for me. Being depressed and feeling sorry for myself is not out of the ordinary for me. Today I am ok, I wish I knew who thought bad of me enough to get me in trouble over something I wrote. I am really as nice as people think I pretend to be. I am really willing to take mean and go on. What really is wrong with that? Whoever you are I am sorry you think I am not a good person. I have gathered along the way to take is easier most of the time.

Funny Story

2014-10-02T12:07:00.003-05:00

Miss Beatrice, the church organist, was in her eighties and had never been married. She was admired for sweetness and kindness to all.... One afternoon the pastor came to call on her and she showed him into her quaint sitting room. She invited him to have a seat while she prepared tea.

As he sat facing her old pump organ, the young minister noticed a cut-glass bowl sitting on top of it. The bowl was filled with water. In the water floated, of all things, a condom! When she returned with tea and scones, they began to chat. The pastor tried to stifle his curiosity about the bowl of water and its strange floater, but soon it got the better of him and he could no longer resist. "Miss Beatrice", he said, "I wonder if you would tell me about this?" pointing to the bowl. "Oh, yes" she replied, "isn't it wonderful?
I was walking through the park a few months ago and I found this little package on the ground. The directions said to place it on the organ, keep it wet and that it would prevent the spread of disease. Do you know I haven't had the flu all winter!" The pastor fainted

Today

2014-09-17T16:13:00.001-05:00

My kids really are my life. I have a problem with this at times. I am way too worried that they will be happy. They may not be perfect, but they are to me. I think they deserve all the blessings that life has to offer. I will for sure do without myself for them to have more. There have been times that I in a selfish mode thought that I should not give to them as much. They are grown and have it much better in their thirties than I did. I then was sacrificing for them more than now. Time was something I didn't give them enough of. I worked a forty hour week at a full time job and waited tables till late at night. I wonder if I could have made it giving them that time instead of the tips I was making. It was all gone, the money and the time. I did have lots of help along the way and am more thankful for that than I have spoken in words. This is a thank you to all the people that helped me along the way. You know who you are and what you did. I gathered much help from many people that I need to give back. I still don't have the means to pay them back, but I could and should be a much better friend and family member. I have gathered more than I deserve along this way I call my life. I have got to be a better person. I have got to give the way that has been given to me; got to.

Happy Two Birthday's to Me

2014-09-17T11:27:00.001-05:00

Most people who know me; know me well, have heard my two birthday story. I have two birthdays. One that my mama said was and one that my birth certificate says/was. My daughter is going to fuss about that last sentence. Ms. First grade teacher always wants to edit my bloggging. My mom was not wrong, maybe just lost the dates as she lost her mind. She could be right since it wouldn't be uncommon for the state of Michigan to make a mistake. As states go, maybe any state could mix a birthdate up. My mama always thought my birthday was August 31, 1961. That was the date we celebrated up until I was an adult. I liked it being that day, because it was the day before my sister-in-law. She was born September 1st. I wanted to be her best friend and that was a great way to have something in common with her. As the years passed maybe it didn't matter so much that I be her best friend since I wasn't married to her brother anymore. Then I got my birth certificate back and it said I was born on August 30, 1961. So legally, I guess my birthday is August 30th. This was good because I had a new best friend that was born on August 29th so I could have something in common with my new best friend. This is one of the many BFF's I have gathered along the way.

Love the Seventies

2014-08-01T11:25:00.003-05:00

Love is.....when he will wait for you in the rain.

Smile
I've seen fire and I've seen rain. I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end.~~~James Taylor

Quote of the Day

2014-07-11T11:09:00.003-05:00

There's one sad truth in life I've found while journeying east and west -the only folks we really wound are those we love the best.We flatter those we scarcely know, we please the fleeting guest, and deal full many a thoughtless blow to those who love us best. ~Ella Wheeler Wilcox

The Axe

2014-07-08T13:48:00.000-05:00

Four months seems to be a time frame that the most memorable times in my life were spent. As a fifth grader four months seemed like much longer. Four months was the amount of time we spent at Grandma and Grandpa's after the banker put all of Mama and Daddy's stuff out in the snow. That day I came home from first grade and saw Mama standing in the yard surrounded by the stove; I remember the stove the most. Maybe because the stove is where I stood so often to be warm in the house without heat. The stove eye is where I had laid my reader from first grade. The one that had Sally on the cover. The shape of the stove eye could not be hidden from my first grade teacher. It could not be hidden from the bratty little kids in the class either. What happened to your book? I never answered. I have always had a great gift of fibbing, not answering and ignoring anything I did not want to face. Four months was the time spent with Daddy's brother and his family after Grandmother's house burnt. I had this crazy notion that I should stay with my Daddy's sister just like my Grandmother did. That is one of the things that still makes me have the complex notion that I am not good enough or as good as others. Daddy's sister had girls, I should have got to stay with my girl cousins. I wished to stay in the brick better house without the fighting that was an everyday thing with Daddy and his brother. The whole four months were full of fighting. The simple thing would have been for Daddy to refuse to stay where we were not wanted. That was the main cause for many of the fights.
We had dried beans and cornbread for most of the meals during the four months we were there. The fights were often after supper. That was the time that both brothers were home from loafing most of the day while we were at school. There were times they were at work, but not as often as the just roaming the roads. The work that they did was for their brother-in-law; that was who I wanted to stay with during this time. I wanted this in my mind, but knew that my aunt was not about to put up with Daddy's drinking and Mama's mental state. At that time she was dubbed crazy before she really went crazy. I know she was not crazy because she had worked the four months we stayed at her mom and dads. She saved the money for us to come to Alabama.
I often over heard the adults talking about Joe Abe getting a place of his own during this time. Grandmother and Grandaddy moved into the new little brick house in March. It broke my heart what I heard from Grandmother's mouth, "this will give Joe a chance to find them a place of their own." Yet another time that I felt as though I was not good enough to live in the new house. Grandmother had came to get us at the bus station to live with her and now she did not want us in her new house. We instead were still at the old not painted house that Daddy's brother rented from Steve Garner. Steve was a second cousin to my Grandaddy and just as evil as Grandaddy was.
The fighting only got worse as the weeks went by. One of the worst was the cut that Uncle Keith put in between Daddy's eyes. This was another one of those after supper fights that spilled all the pinto beans from supper onto the kitchen floor. My aunt had went to great pain to come up with the money to buy the beans only for Daddy and Uncle Keith to knock them into the floor. The butcher knife was an old hickory and very sharp. It was easy for him to grab and swing it across Daddy's forehead. The wound was deep to the bone and took forever to heal. The whiskey he consumed daily must have made it harder for it to heal. The cut within days started to rot around the cut spot.
During the day fighting they did I missed, except on Saturday afternoons. Finally on one spring Saturday afternoon the fighting was to what was going to turn tragic. Well, it did not turn tragic, but could have. The uncanny thing about it was that terrible thing that could have happened got me where I wanted to be. To this day there are many times that I really believe fate is on my side. I say fate really knowing that God has watched over me for me to not have it so terrible.
The porch of that old non-painted house went all the way across the front. There were two front screen doors, one into the kitchen and one into the livingroom. The fight had started in the livingroom, because Daddy was just sitting on the couch doing nothing. Uncle Keith had the notion that they should go to Grandmother's new house and move a sand pile left from where the concrete was mixed to lay the bricks on the house. Daddy was not in the mood to do anything anyone wanted him to do, he was on the couch for a drinking afternoon.
His brother was hell bent on getting Daddy off the couch, in the car and moving the sand pile. He walked past the couch and snatched him onto the floor instead of pulling him up Daddy hit the floor. He got up out of the floor and went out the screen door, off the porch and by the pole that held the porch up he grabbed the first thing he saw to use as a weapon. That day it was not a broom, garden hoe or stick, it was an axe. Uncle Keith came out the front door after Daddy. We the four of use kids had made it outside to watch the fight. I was standing behind Daddy as he stood hiding the axe behind his back. Aunt Nell was not there when the fight started, but pulled up to see what Daddy was holding behind his back. She did not get out of the car. She backed out and went to get Grandmother. The trip to the new house was five or so minutes away. Fifteen minutes at most. Aunt Nell came back with Grandmother. She pulled the car right up to the fight. Grandmother got out of the car begging Daddy to put the axe down. He only stood there with that evil drunk look that I remember seeing so many times. He was grinning as she pleaded with him to drop the axe. This was one time that after Uncle Keith realized that Daddy had an axe he did not move towards him to fight back. He just stood on the porch hoping the women would talk Daddy into putting down the axe.
He finally did and what got him to put it down was Grandmother telling him that the only way this fighting was going to stop, before someone got hurt really bad was for Daddy to come back and live with her. When she told him to put the axe down and get us and all of are clothes, he did finally put down the axe.
Mama had hid in the kitchen during the whole axe deal. I ran in and told her that Grandmother said we could come to the new house. The fight with the axe was the fight that ended the crazy four months we lived with Daddy's not so kind brother. Once again I was gathered up and taken to Grandmother's house.

The Axe

2014-07-08T13:45:00.000-05:00

The Art of Loosing

2014-07-07T15:49:00.001-05:00

It seems to me now that loosing was something we did on a regular basis. Our loosing was not the natural process on several occasions. Grandmother had lost her parents that had lived relatively long lives. My great-grand parents did not die at an early age as my daddy and uncles had. Grandmother lived longer than all of her sons. She had four children with only one daughter. The pain of losing children has to be more pain than any mother should have to bear.

When her son’s were children there were plenty of cuts and bruises. The everyday life on the farm was simple. The boys had the usual accidents none of which required hospital or doctor visits. They had one advantage when it came to doctoring. My grandfather’s sister had married a doctor that practiced in Anderson only five miles away. Old Doc Bayle’s was his father and my great-aunt had married his son.

There went on to be three generations of doctors in the Bayle’s family. This is piece of family past is one thing that gives me a twinge of pride. It did not matter to me that it was not immediate family; my aunt married a doctor. My grandmother spoke of her sister and brother in law with a touch of pride also.
Her pride was more in the sister in law; she was a school teacher. What my grandmother admired most about her was the effort that it had taken for her to get her teaching degree. Molly was her name. She was a small lady as most of my granddaddy’s sister’s were.

She had often stated that she had a terrible feeling something bad was about to happen. She would say, "I have a bad feeling," many times. Her feeling I have come to realize was from all the bad things that had happened to her in the past. Really most of the time when she said this, nothing did happen at that time. She had just gotten used to loosing and bad things happening. Her live was full of everyday uneasiness. Grandaddy yelled all night long when he was drink. Yelled is not a strong enough word for what this man did. It was more like the singing of an insane person. The language he used was nastier than can be imagined. I in the next forty-years of my life have never heard any foul language to compare to the ranting he did. He could be heard all over the Corum Hollow.

The subject of his satanlike sermons had centered at this time around the family of Billy Matt's wife. She had died last in the fire that killed all three of Uncle Bill's family. Since she died last the estate was left to her family. Her father was Sonny Buck Haraway and this was the name he cursed the most.

My grandmother was a very strong woman to deal as well as she did as each son died way before their time. We lived up north when the first son died. Not only did her son die; his wife and child died when their house caught fire on Thanksgiving night. The first child my grandmother lost was something she never got over. Uncle Bill was her son that she spoke of with great pride. He owned a home in Florence and worked for the Florence Times.

Billy Matt was what she called him. He was just Bill to everyone else. We were still up north when this happened. The trip my daddy had to make when his brother died was another thing that was talked of often by Grandmother. It had been three years since Daddy had even visited Alabama. These were the days in which he had really began to loose himself in drinking. He had lost his job, the banker in the long coat, that I remember as really mean-bad man was coming to our house more and more.

The day they called to tell Daddy that his brother had died in a house fire, he was sitting in the same chair he always sat in, under the telephone than hung on the wall. Slumped over from wine, in his sock feet as I remember him the most. White undershirt and dress pants; unshaven. As young as I was I knew this was sobering-tragic news to my daddy.

Upon my grandmother was another problem added upon loosing Billy Matt; she had to make arrangements to get daddy to Alabama for the funeral. This was an occasion that riding the bus was not going to be quick enough. My grandmother had probably never thought of an airline in her life. She made a riffle; "made a riffle" was a term she used when she had to do what had to be done. This time her "riffle" was to get Daddy an airline ticket from Detroit to Huntville. She made arrangements for someone to drive to Huntsville and get him. To add to the burden, when he arrived at her house he had nothing fit to wear to the funerals. By the time he arrived there was to be another funeral. Uncle Bill's twelve year old son had died the following day. Aunt Nancy was still alive at this time, but finally after three days she too, had passed.

The fire was not the first worry Grandmother had suffered with Billy Matt. I found an artical dating back to 1963 where he was involved in a car crash. The artical stated that he was an employee of the Florence Times paper. In the accident he had life threatening injuries. At this time he was thirty two years old. I am sure that this was a trying time for my grandmother as well. He was sent to Nashville to be treated. The lack of money and a reliable form of transportation was a burden for her as well.

She was a great neighbor which made it easy for her to find someone that did not mind helping. Nell was a hardworking good women and everyone knew that.

She was different from the family she grew up with. Her father was not all that productive. When she married she chose her a role model. Another women that had already endured the things my grandmother was facing in the future was her new mother-in-law. Maw Nancy was what she was called by all.I am a women, and may be favorable to my gender, but as I have observed very closely, women are many times the glue that holds it all together. She became what she was by having to take up the slack of the men around her. Her father died basically without anything. I have a hat rack he made, that my grandmother said was one of the last things he had left when he died. He told her this on a visit to his small apartment in Florence, "Child this is one of the last things I have left," and pointed to the homemade hat rack.

Miss Anne B. Harris

2014-07-07T15:31:00.000-05:00

Mrs. Anne B. Harris was one of the greatest teachers, ever. She was almost animated in her sense of fashion. She wore wigs most of the time. Her costume jewelry was always the same color as her dresses. She wore lots of scarfs. Her small waist; for a middle aged women was great for a wide belt. Yellow was one color dress I recall her wearing. It fit at the waist with a wide belt, with a large buckle. The buckle was covered with the same fabric as the dress. She was older when I had her for history. I think she was eighth grade history. She was also my homeroom teacher at one time. Every outfit she picked was totally color co-ordinated. She was kin to some of my kin, that made me like her even more. I loved being able to say she was the sister of my daddy's first cousin's wife's brother. She did acknowledge the fact that she knew my family, and I loved this. It may have been why she took a personal liking to me. She was always quick to offer me life advise, not just teach me history. She probably knew much more about life than history anyway. She had out lived a husband and divorced one too, I think. One thing she said will always be my favorite, Anne B. Harris quote; "Never go on a date with anyone you would not marry." This was explained in dephth by her, in our conversations between classes. Teachers like her is why I think teachers should set an example for there students. Many of the things I have gathered along the way I gathered from the good teachers at Lexington Highschool.

Love Is.................

2014-05-15T08:18:00.001-05:00

A group of professional people posed this question to a group of 4 to 8 year-olds,
'What does love mean?'
The answers they got were broader and deeper than anyone could have imagined
See what you think:
'When my grandmother got arthritis , she couldn't bend over and paint her toenails anymore..
So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That's love.'
Rebecca- age 8
'When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different.
You just know that your name is safe in their mouth.'
Billy - age 4
'Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other.'
Karl - age 5
'Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs.'
Chrissy - age 6
'Love is what makes you smile when you're tired.'
Terri - age 4
'Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him,
to make sure the taste is OK.'
Danny - age 7
'Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more. My Mommy and Daddy are like that.
They look gross when they kiss.'
Emily - age 8
'Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen.'
Bobby - age 7 (Wow!)
'If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate. '
Nikka - age 6
(we need a few million more Nikka's on this planet)
'Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday..'
Noelle - age 7
'Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well.'
Tommy - age 6
'During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling.
He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore.'
Cindy - age 8
'My mommy loves me more than anybody.
You don't see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night.'
Clare - age 6
'Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken.'
Elaine-age 5
'Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Robert Redford.'
Chris - age 7
'Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day.'
Mary Ann - age 4
'I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones.'
Lauren - age 4
'When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you.' (what an image)
Karen - age 7
'Love is when Mommy sees Daddy on the toilet and she doesn't think it's gross..'
Mark - age 6
'You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget.'
Jessica - age 8
And the final one
The winner was a four year old child whose next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife.
Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's yard, climbed onto his lap,
and just sat there..
When his Mother asked what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy said,
'Nothing, I just helped him cry.'

A Story of Each Grave

2014-05-07T15:53:00.000-05:00

Saturday was decoration at Corum. This has and always be an event that I try really hard not to miss. The difference this year was that we had a new family member with us. Baby Mak attended her first experience helping us clean the rocks and arrange the flowers. Kenny and Dee Dee always attend; a day that I love because of my love for them. Malorie, my baby girl was my child that came with me this year. The turn out was better than usual this year. I am older now, realizing that I am now a leader of the family. Grandmother said many times, "I wonder if someone will remember to put flowers on my grave after I am gone?" Yes, we do is the answer to that. When I say "my grandmother said.", that is more of a profound statement. What she said was always monumental to me and shoule be to everyone I tell what she always said. The graves are all lined up together, as they were all lined up together in life. My feelings for them very, from deep abiding love to hate. We are all guilty of work doing at one time or another and forgive is something I try to do; it is hard when the evil has caused me much depression for my whole life. Maybe what will I have to day was brought on by the UN-speakable abuse. Unconditional love for the most is what I feel for the seven that are laid to rest in a row in Corum. We cut the grass there once a month with a push mower. My grandmother had a story for every grave we cut around. Some of them the juiciest gossip a young teenage girl loved to hear. Ed Corum followed Leila Corum to her house each day to eat lunch. Ben Clemons didn't work as hard as his wife. Nadean Wright loved Shorty from the time she was a child. Pauline Garner had the biggest rock in Corum. Jean Corum loved Homer more than life it self. Polly Corum was a hard worker. Gary Corum died at eighteen of Leukaemia. His funeral was in the Lexington High school Gym. His mom had nerve problems after his death. The graves in the middle with field rocks for markers had the last name Barnett. The grave with a picture of a couple at the other side of the cemetery; the guy was shot. Grandmother always said she would marry again and not be buried where her picture was on a rock. I am just saying if my grandmother said it, something profound had been said. Perfect maybe she was not, but I listened and learned. I gathered life from her is what I did.

FYI

2013-11-21T16:00:00.008-06:00

In 1919 when the flu killed 40 million people there was this Doctor that visited the many farmers to see if he could help them combat the flu...
Many of the farmers and their families had contracted it and many died.
The doctor came upon this one farmer and to his surprise, everyone was very healthy. When the doctor asked what the farmer was doing that was different the wife replied that she had placed an unpeeled onion in a dish in the rooms of the home, (probably only two rooms back then). The doctor couldn't believe it and asked if he could have one of the onions and place it under the microscope. She gave him one and when he did this, he did find the flu virus in the onion. It obviously absorbed the bacteria, therefore, keeping the family healthy.
Now, I heard this story from my hairdresser. She said that several years ago, many of her employees were coming down with the flu, and so were many of her customers. The next year she placed several bowls with onions around in her shop. To her surprise, none of her staff got sick. It must work. Try it and see what happens. We did it last year and we never got the flu.
Now there is a P. S. to this for I sent it to a friend in Oregon who regularly contributes material to me on health issues. She replied with this most interesting experience about onions:
Thanks for the reminder. I don't know about the farmer's story...but, I do know that I contacted pneumonia, and, needless to say, I was very ill... I came across an article that said to cut both ends off an onion put it into an empty jar, and place the jar next to the sick patient at night. It said the onion would be black in the morning from the germs...sure enough it happened just like that...the onion was a mess and I began to feel better.
Another thing I read in the article was that onions and garlic placed around the room saved many from the black plague years ago. They have powerful antibacterial, antiseptic properties.
This is the other note. Lots of times when we have stomach problems we don't know what to blame. Maybe it's the onions that are to blame. Onions absorb bacteria is the reason they are so good at preventing us from getting colds and flu and is the very reason we shouldn't eat an onion that has been sitting for a time after it has been cut open.

2013-11-20T14:23:00.003-06:00

Life really is not easy. Humans make it that way. In a perfect world we would all live in harmony. We would go by Gods plan. Gods plan even though perfect still contains death. Death to the living is terrible. This means we loose. Selfishness, mainly. I live my life to not come across as selfish. This possible has made me feel sorry for myself. I may not be selfish, but I do wonder sometimes how others are handed great material things with no effort what so ever. Just because they belong to who they belong to. I have and I know I am not wrong about this; I have worked harder and done without more than just about anyone I know. Of course, I don't know anyone that lives in a box. I was once as close to homeless as you could get. I was in kindergarten. I knew there was a man coming to the house trying to get my daddy to pay on our house. At my very young age, I realized that the amount of the payments were $80. He may have only came a couple of times. I have a great memory of my childhood, but am not sure how many times or how far behind the mortgage was. It was enough that on the one day I came home from kindergarten that all of our furniture was in the yard. My daddy was no where around. Mama was in her fur coat. The one that reminds me of the song, Copacabana. She wore that coat in the house, that had no heat most of the time. Which means it was really cold because we lived in Wayne, Michigan.
There were the times we went to the grocery store and she had to put things back because the welfare check was not enough to pay for what she had put in the buggy. Most of the time she sent me back to put it up. I would in later years experience this for myself. Mine, however was the whole buggy, because a check had been sent back and Big Star would not take a check from me until I paid the one they were holding. This is one of the things that makes me know that as long as you are still breathing, nothing can not be fixed. It is easy, get up, get dressed and do something. Go to work everyday at something. That is part of the adventure.

Family Fights

2013-11-19T17:17:00.003-06:00

We were not the most loving family in the world. It has however, been so long that I have actually seen someone slap another family member at a family gathering that family disagreements are a small thing really. This being because it was nothing for Grandmother and Mama to have a slapping match in the kitchen while they were cooking. Hey, it might be interesting if we had an old fashion Garner slap fight, just for old times. It was common for Daddy and Uncle Keith to fight; I mean fist fight every night after supper. The pinto beans would be all over the floor. This not a good thing because most of the time beans and cornbread were all we had. Crashing dishes and falling bodies would spice up; what am I saying that is a time I would rather forget. It would break my heart to see one of the new generation hit another. There a some bad feelings in our family now, that are just not mentioned in the presence of the crowd. These are mainly steaming from non-communication. I love each and everyone of them. I am proud to say that I really like them even if they don't like each other. I would love to invite more of my daddy's cousins to the holiday dinners, but one cousin might not be comfortable with the other. It is not that I have the greatest family in the world but I know that they would in a pinch forget any hard feelings if someone else was to mistreat one of us. My grandmother and mama really did not like each other. It was no secret. My aunt had a great reason to hate her brother's wife, but when it came to forgiving she was the angel many of of need to be. I like to think that I have the forgiving heart that she had. The aunt that I always loved so much gave to me much more than she did to anyone. She gave me her time and advise. I miss her so much. She didn't like everyone, but she loved me and that made me love her. It is hard for me not to like someone that I know really likes me. It is beginning to seem to me that best reason not to like someone; or love them is when they show you that there is nothing about me that they like. Loving them was easy until you realize that they don't like you.

2013-08-09T09:06:00.001-05:00

The Paradoxical Commandments People are illogical, unreasonable, and self-centered. Love them anyway. If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish ulterior motives. Do good anyway. If you are successful, you will win false friends and true enemies. Succeed anyway. The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway. Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable. Be honest and frank anyway. The biggest men and women with the biggest ideas can be shot down by the smallest men and women with the smallest minds. Think big anyway. People favor underdogs but follow only top dogs. Fight for a few underdogs anyway. What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight. Build anyway. People really need help but may attack you if you do help them. Help people anyway. Give the world the best you have and you'll get kicked in the teeth. Give the world the best you have anyway

My Only Fist Fight

2013-08-08T18:19:00.000-05:00

I am really as nice as people think, I pretend to be. I am not just a suck-up. I know that many people think that if you are friendly that you are out for something, from them. I think the main reason that I am not mean is because, everytime I have been it really made me sick. I mean sick; it took me days to get over someone getting mad at me for something I had said. In highschool I had some run-ins with girls and almost fought. The only really, what you could call fist fight I had was with Tammy Garner and she was riding in the car with me, my brother and her brother. She mentioned something that I had done that I really didn't want her to tell my brother. We were on our way to Whitehead to take them home. She told the bad thing I had done as we were passing the Mandy Farm. My reaction to what she had told was to stop the car and whoop her butt. I stopped, got out and in the middle of the road we had a cat fight. It was not exactly a fist fight, more slapping. I hate to admit it, but I think she actually got the best of me. My brother and her brother laughed uncontrollably. They thought this was the funniest thing they had ever witnessed. After the fight, the laughter was now coming from all four of us. Tammy and I jumped back in the car and I drove them the short distance to Whitehead. We were over it by time we got in the car. Tammy was a great friend, but now as many life has happened and she is not doing so well. I pray for her to this day. She was really meaner than me as the years went by she got even meaner. If I were to see her today I am sure she would be very glad to see me.

The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway!

2013-08-08T08:44:00.001-05:00

I Really do Remember when JFK was shot. I was only two, but the images I saw on TV are still in my mind. That is one of the things family members say often about me, "how do you remember all those things. It really is easier for me to remember the passed than remember what I walked into a room to get. I really am thinking alot about my mom these days. She was a pretty lady. I was reminded of this at a gathering for Billy, my dad's first cousin's 80th birthday. One of her daughters mentioned my mom wearing a backless dress. In Northern Alabama that was unusual in the 60's. I was a little disappointed that Patsy did not mention as she had in the past that I had become a pretty grown women. My looks are something that have totally left me as I turned 50. I have gained weight. I have an image of what I used to look like and that image is not the one I see in the mirror. My dad told me often, how pretty I was. My children see pictures of me and tell me how pretty I was. They are surprised that their dad was lucky enough to get me; he had bad teeth. There are no ugly Garner's is a statement I say and have heard often. Pretty is, is pretty does though. Some of them were not so Pretty in the is department. Evil would be the word for some of the stunts they pulled. It is great to know the new generation has rose above evil. They are honest, hardworking, and loving people. Thank God that I was part of teaching my children that. They really have more integrety than had.

2013-08-08T08:30:00.002-05:00

We spent many hours in the pasture that was know to us as the creek bottom. This was the bottom land that we took a few of the cows to when the grass was getting dry at the pasture at the house. We hooked three or four cows to the plow of the tractor and lead them a mile or so, to the creek bottom. With all the rain we had this week I was reminded of what we did when the creek swelled. There is a wonder we had not drowned in that rushing water. It was red colored from the mud, so much that our clothes were the color of the creek when we got out of the water.

2013-07-08T15:34:00.001-05:00