Random Thoughts

Turn The Page

noreply@blogger.com (Deanne) — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 00:26:00 +0000

This year, turning the calendar page to January will be very symbolic.

It will be putting a bad year behind me.

Don't worry, I'm not going to rehash all the events of 2011 that made it a bad year. Instead, I want to look at the good things that happened.

Yes, there were some.

Our family gained two beautiful baby boys - Weston William Bennett and John Brooks Bennett, sons of Chad and Mason, respectively. I have yet to meet them in person, but they are adorable.

Two ladies in our office added beautiful baby girls to their families, which means our Gillon Group family grew a little as well.

Our office saw some turnover this year. Someone remarked the other day that we had lost so many people. Yes. Four people moved on - one to take care of her ailing mother who subsequently passed away, one to move back to his hometown for a woman, and two for other opportunities. But we gained four women in their places. Good, strong,competent women. So it was a net-net. But we tend to focus on the bad sometimes and that's all this person was seeing, the losses.

Professionally, I completed a goal of achieving my certified fraud examiner credentials.

I also completed a personal faith journey and joined the Catholic Church this year. Not something I've talked a lot about because I belief faith is a personal thing, but important to me.

A friend of mine had a book published. A dream I am still pursuing.

On a global scale, a royal wedding captivated the world for a little while and we put our differences aside to see Prince William marry his princess. More importantly, our Navy Seals rid the world of evil with the elimination of Osama Bin Laden and our troops left Iraq this month, signalling the end of that war. Hopefully leaving Afghanistan won't be far behind. So many families received the best Christmas gift - their soldier home from the war.

Good things have happened. Many good things.

But it is easy to remember the earthquakes, tornadoes, tsunamis and other destructive events. It's easy to think about the losses. It's easy, at least for me, to dwell on the negative and let it overshadow everything else. So easy to forget.

But we need to remember the victories. The spirit of neighbor helping neighbor during those natural disasters. Communities rebuilding. The world coming together to aide one another instead of always fighting.

I am finding my joy again. I looked at this blog the other day and realized I'd almost written less in 12 months than I did the year I started the blog, which was late in 2008. And I love to write.

For a while, I let the negative overtake me. I got completely overwhelmed by my world. I had to step back to remember all the positives.

I also have a great 2012 to look forward to. I am a duchess in Mardi Gras, a joyful, happy time full of fun and friends and festivities. I have some big things happening at work this upcoming year. I have more boundaries to stretch professionally. Will it be easy, no. But nothing worth having is usually easily achieved. Also, the family is expecting another baby boy in March. My uncle, already a grandfather to two beautiful granddaughters, will add three grandsons in less than a year.

So, I'm looking forward to turning over the calendar and starting the new year. Yes, because I do want to put some bad things behind me. But also because I'm looking forward to new things. I want to get back to being Me.

The SPIRIT of Christmas

noreply@blogger.com (Deanne) — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 03:04:00 +0000

Like a lot of families this year, our Christmas was different. I know many families that had empty seats and placesettings at their holiday tables. For only the second time in 22 years of marriage, we didn't go to Arkansas for Christmas.

I won't get into the circumstances, but it was a necessary decision this year for Billy and I to stay home.

Now, this initially caused me some stress. I am a traditionalist and I don't take change well. I've, of course, had to accept changes over the years. Family members pass on or get married and have families of their own and new traditions have to evolve.

I in no way want this to become a new tradition. I want this to merely be a blip on the radar of life. Much like the old way we used to track Santa Claus. I can remember the weathermen on the local news stations with their large circular radar screens - always greenish-gray, pre-Doppler - and a little red dot would flash across the screen. Tracking Santa's flight path. It was the indicator that all good boys and girls needed to hurry off to bed. Santa was close.

To my mother's great credit, she suggested that we meet in Lake Village for lunch. On Friday. Our office was closed that day and it was the perfect opportunity to get together without disrupting anyone else's plans and schedules.

And so we did. We each drove two and half hours for a lunch that lasted less than an hour. We ate at Rhoda's. If it hadn't been recommended by the Information Center we would have driven right past it, if we'd even found ourselves in that part of town. Slightly off the main road and the building looked as if would fall in at any moment. But the food was good, Southern Living magazine and newspaper reviews lining the walls, and there was a steady stream of customers picking up their lunches while we were there. And it was a good thing they were all to go orders. Rhoda's only has about six tables and all but one were taken.

I've discovered that I like long trips in the car with Billy. Kind of like our eleven hour drive to eastern Tennessee. We can talk, or not, without having to pass out puppy treats, let someone out, let someone in, listen for the washing machine to get off-kilter, try to quiet the herd when the mailman comes up on the porch, and so forth. Just the two of us, alone with our thoughts, able to converse in peace.

Meeting Mom only solved part of the problem. In case you.ve missed it, I love my nephews and niece more than words can say and I was worried about missing them. They are growing up so fast that I hate to lose any opportunity to see them. I know, I saw Hayden this summer and Brett will be here in February, but still, it was Christmas. So, we employed technology and Skyped.

Not sure if that is the correct verb or not, but Skype we did. And it was fun! Especially after we figured out that the reason they couldn't hear me was because the speaker volume on their side was turned down! But I could see them. They all looked good. And we talked. And laughed. And were together.

And really, isn't that what Christmas is about?

It isn't about the presents - though there were those as well. Mom served as courier between Andrea and I. And it wasn't about doing what we've always done. There was a spirit of cooperation with my family that made it all work out. And that was important.

Billy and I had been discussing for a while what we were going to do. We were unable to stay with his mom as we always have. It was really too late to find a house sitter that we could have confidence in. There isn't a hotel on Earth that will have 7 dogs in the room. Mom's house isn't equipped for a herd of our size either. And renting an RV wasn't going to work. At least not this year, but maybe next. I didn't want to go alone and I didn't want to leave him. I will never forget the moment when it was "decided". We were shopping in Wal-Mart and I just off-handedly remarked that we needed to decide what we were going to have for our Christmas lunch. I'd never fixed one before so we'd never thought about it. He turned and looked at me, somewhat puzzled. And asked, "you mean you're staying here?" "Of course, I'm not leaving you on Christmas." Right there, in front of everyone, he threw his arms around me, planted a big kiss on me and said, "thank you for understanding! I thought I was going to have a hard time with this".

Compromise. Understanding. Willingness. Far greater gifts than another sweater or bottle of perfume or anything else. (Not that we don't love the gifts we received, we do!)

Aren't those also some of the gifts of the first Christmas? Mary's willingness to give in to God's plan for her. Joseph's understanding that he had a strange mission that he would have to accept as well, far outside the norm for his day. The compromise of staying in a barn when there was no room in the inn for a very pregnant woman who would ultimately give the world it's greatest gift.

It's easy to get caught up in the madness of the holidays. We allow ourselves to get stressed to find the perfect gift. To visit everyone. To eat at every stop. To try and please everyone else. We usually end up feeling tired and cranky instead of blessed. At least I do. Maybe I shouldn't speak for everyone.

So, while our little Christmas was far from our "norm", it was good. So much so in fact that on Monday when Billy was trying to find a project to work on I asked why we couldn't just spend time together. He reminded me we'd been doing that for three days already!

My hope is that next year will be back to what we're used to, for a lot of reasons. The schedules and driving and all the rest. But I hope we don't lose the gifts of this year. The real spirit of Christmas. That it doesn't matter where our bodies are so much as what is in our hearts.

How I Spent My Summer Vacation

noreply@blogger.com (Deanne) — Mon, 21 Nov 2011 03:56:00 +0000

If this summer had been a fish I would have thrown it back. A horse, I'd have shot it.

Since I am an animal-lover I can say, yes, it was that bad.

I had already lost an old friend back in April at age 45. An unexpected death for me. That was bad, but not the worst of my 2011 tragic events.

No, things really started to go downhill when my brother-in-law was killed in an accident. That single moment in time changed everything. If I could somehow roll the calendar back to June 6 I would.

In a heartbeat.

Without covering all the details, many of which should stay private, suffice it to say I've seen sides of people and witnessed events that I never dreamed existed. It is said that deaths bring out the worst in people. I'll take it a little further. Deaths reveal true characters. I have watched people that I love and care about, and that loved and cared about each other, or at a minimum tolerated each other, turn their backs and behave inexplicably. And when it is all said and done, there will be no winners.

We cared for my mother-in-law during a hospitalization and recovery. Cost Billy and I our annual trip to New York City. To be fair, Hurricane Irene canceled our flight into New York but that was really only the excuse we used for doing what we knew was the right thing. The hurricane allowed us to cancel our trip with only minimal financial repercussions. Billy spent many hours on the road between Natchez and Arkansas with his mom, ultimately bringing her here for a 10 day hospital stay, followed by a week at our house.

I'm happy to report she is fine now.

Summer ended and I was convinced the changing of the seasons would bring needed changes in our world as well. I was looking forward to a trip with my mother in September and Billy and I had a long weekend trip scheduled in October.

Things had to improve, right?

Mom and I did have a wonderful trip. We were part of a larger bus tour that started in Chicago, traveled north through Wisconsin to Mackinac Island, Michigan and ended in Detroit. I met lots of nice, interesting people and saw some wonderful sights. We had cheese in Wisconsin, shopped in Frankenmuth, and relaxed at the Grand Hotel. The Ford Museum should not be missed in you're ever in the area.

But while I was gone, our sweet almost 16 year old Lab, Midnight, passed away.

If you know anything about Labs you know that the average lifespan is only about half of the years she lived. So I knew we had given her a good life but I was also pretty sure she wouldn't be here when I returned home. We'd been witnessing her decline for weeks. Still, she left on her own terms. That's how we try to let them go. I just hated that Billy had to deal with it all by himself. Me being home wouldn't have changed things, but I always refer to us as Team Tanksley and a part of me wanted to be home.

But I absolutely wouldn't have wanted to miss the trip with Mom. This was a first for us. Sure, we've spent plenty of time alone together over the years, but it was always typically at on of our own homes. This was a 9 day trip, sharing hotel rooms and hours sitting together on the bus.

24/7 togetherness.

But it was wonderful. I wrote her when I got home, thanking her for the trip, and I told her how nice it was that after years of hearing while growing up, particularly during my teenage years, "I'm your mother, not your friend" that we had reached a point in our lives where she could be both.

Billy and I did get our long weekend together. We drove 11 hours from Natchez to Jonesborough, Tennessee to the National Storytelling Festival. I highly recommend it! It was the most relaxed either of us had been in months. We only had one "child" with us, our sweet Riley, and we had nothing but time stretched out in front of us. At the festival we could go from tent to tent to hear the storytellers, sit and relax, walk through the shops, eat or just do nothing. Our third night, we stayed in the hotel room and watched our Razorbacks on television. Just like we would have at home, but it seemed different somehow. I guess it was knowing someone else was keeping the dogs and we had just a little less responsibility. I picked up pizza and we stretched out and just enjoyed each other's company.

Sadly, the respite was short-lived. A few weeks later my dad's oldest brother in Texas passed away. Also, unexpectedly.

I lost 3 people I loved and cared about in 6 months, plus Midnight, to death.

But we lost other family members as well to circumstances and bad decisions. Billy and I finally reached a point where we had to end, or at least limit, our exposure to people that had become "toxic". It wasn't easy. But it had to be done.

We realized that we are the only two people in charge of our own happiness. And that we had to remain Team Tanksley and look out for one another. Support one another. No one else can do it for you. People can make you miserable, or can make you laugh, or even cry. But those are moments in time.

Allowing those moments to dictate the whole of our lives is our decision.

2011 is not ending quite as well as it started. I am certainly looking forward to turning the calendar over to 2012. I have already started thinking about what I can do to make it better. Handling my work stresses better. Learning to say No to some of the volunteer opportunities that present themselves. Enjoying a special Mardi Gras.

Spending time with the ones I love and cherish and chosing who will impact my life, and how.

Turn Around And He's A Young Man

noreply@blogger.com (Deanne) — Sun, 23 Oct 2011 17:30:00 +0000

It isn't always often that a nonparent gets to watch the transformation of a child into a man.

I have been so blessed.

Hayden turned 18 this past spring. Hardly seemed possible to me. But I told all three children in 2009 that once they turned 18 AND graduated from high school that I would take them anywhere they wanted and do whatever they wanted. The only parameters I set was that it had to be in the continental United States - I could see the wheels turning in their heads of faraway lands - and it would be just the two of us, no friends, no family. We discussed things like seeing a baseball game in Boston, the ballet in New York, a NASCAR race, or maybe a concert for a favorite group.

Hayden, of course, was first up. And it was time for me to make good on my promise.

But he struggled. He couldn't decide what he wanted to do, to see, to go. We made suggestion after suggestion. As a "planner" I wanted to be certain that I had enough time to adequately cover all the bases. I didn't want to disappoint him. I was honestly starting to stress about what was supposed to be a fun thing!

But the day came when I got the call. Los Angeles.

All of it.

As long as I had a mission, I was good. So I went to work on it.

We flew out of Northwest Arkansas on July 21, 2011 and off we went!

And we did see it all!

The Hollywood sign:

The Pacific Ocean:

The Santa Monica Pier:

and Mullholland Drive:

.

We also rode EVERY roller coaster that Magic Mountain could throw at us!

But most importantly, we got to spend time together. As two adults. Time I will cherish for the rest of my days. We discussed the world, his plans, and just mundane, "in the moment" kinds of stuff like who might be living in the big house behind the gates we were seeing or who might be driving that fancy car parked on Rodeo Drive.

I am proud of the man he is becoming. I say "becoming" because, like all of us, he is still a work in process. He still strattles that line between man and child and you sometimes catch glimpses of both. I look back over the years and wonder where the time went. We went from

and

through

and finally coming to

It's tough to let go. So hard for me to envision him walking around the campus at the University of Arkansas, starting out on the next phase of his life. Hard to know that his major decisions now are just that - HIS decisions. We adults get input but we don't always get to pull the old "just because I said so" stuff anymore. (Although Andrea and Doug can still whip out the "as long as we're paying your bills" card when needed.) As with all parents, they have to loosen the reins and hope that they taught him well. As the aunt, I hope I taught him something, anything of value.

Dee Dee loves you, Hayden. I know you know it. (I tell you often enough!) And I mean it. To me, you will, in some ways, always be that little boy with his arms around my neck, holding on. Someone you can cling to if your mom and dad aren't handy. We went from the merry-go-round to the Green Lantern and I wouldn't trade a minute.

The upside for me is that we're not done yet. Life is a journey. And, as the song goes (kinda) "you've only just begun...."

Happy Birthday to You!

noreply@blogger.com (Deanne) — Mon, 05 Sep 2011 16:02:00 +0000

Big birthdays deserve big attention. My second nephew, and one of my two favorites,

is 16 today.

16.

Hardly seems possible.

Clay joined our family when there were lots of "things" going on. Not good things. Not things to dwell on, either. He was one of the shining bright spots in an otherwise dismal year.

And a bright spot he continues to be!

He has a smile that lights up the room. He is funny, polite, loving, and kind.

And very forgiving. He doesn't fuss that Naunie could never remember him, or his name, and that I'm always late with his birthday present (no exception this year either) because I'm always on vacation the week before and can't seem to get all together in time.

He used to start his days, every day from the time he could toddle, with a hug - usually from his mom. Now it is football practice and weight lifting.

He's becoming quite the young man.

He texted me from a Harry Potter movie once to see if I'd seen it yet. We needed to discuss! And he sent me a picture of his truck when he got it. Just to share it with me.

His silly old aunt.

So, Spanky D, Dee Dee loves you! Have a wonderful day!

A Life Well Lived

noreply@blogger.com (Deanne) — Sat, 13 Aug 2011 16:10:00 +0000

On June 7, 2011, just before 10 PM, our phone rang. Asleep, yes already, I leapt up and grabbed the receiver. My heart was in my stomach because, unless someone in your family is expecting a baby, there is no good news to be shared at that hour. I heard Billy's sister asking for him, tears in her voice. I handed him the phone, saying only "it's your sister, she's upset".

Of course, your most natural reaction is "what's wrong with their mom?". Holding my breath I just stood there, waiting and listening. My breath left me when Billy turned towards me and mouthed two small, simple words: Dale's dead.

That the call might involve his big, burley 56 year old truck driving brother had not entered my mind. Not really. I told Billy later that I had had a vision in the last few weeks of the exact scene that played out, but in that moment his mother was the only person that filled my mind. Things became a blur after that. His sister was in Atlanta and it would be up to Billy to get to Arkansas and tell their mother. Not a job I would have wished on my worst enemy. His sister was insistent that their mom not get the news from a stranger, and rightfully so, so he dressed and packed his bag to be gone for a few days as I talked to her to see what had happened and what needed to be done.

A tragic accident had taken his life.

I was awake for the entire 5 hours that I knew Billy was making that long drive to Arkansas. I spoke to his sister a few times, called the funeral home since Dale had been in Illinois at the time of the accident, sent emails to those who would need to know the next morning. And I called Billy ever so often to ensure he was still awake and driving. At just after 3 AM I posted the news on Dale's Facebook page so his friends would know and could help me spread the word. I hated to have to tell people that way, but one thing I have learned through social media and networking sites is that news travels fast. I hadn't wanted anything on there, though, until I knew Billy was with their mother.

He said it was a hard thing to do. Having to sit her down and say those words no parent wants to hear, no matter how old your child. There's been an accident. Dale's gone.

The next few days were hectic with planning and calling and everything you have to deal with when there has been a death in the family, compounded somewhat by the fact that the death was unexpected.

Today would have been Dale's birthday. I can only imagine what his mom must be dealing with today. I can't tell you how proud I am of Billy. He has stepped up to the plate as the little brother and shouldered a mountain of burdens. He is taking care of Dale's estate and other affairs, has been in Arkansas more than he's been home, and calls his mother every night that he isn't with her. A fine son, and a wonderful brother.

I will miss so many things about Dale. I can't say that we were "close". Not in the sense that many would think about. But we were family. He was my polar opposite in many things, much like Billy when we met, and he was never shy about giving you his opinion. About everything. Because he had on opinion about everything! Music, politics, sports, you name it. I was stunned the time he told me he loved this blog and looked forward to reading it. One, I didn't even know he knew about it, and two, he had to have disagreed with just about everything I said in it! But it proved that at least he could be open to other ideas, he just wasn't going to agree with them. This past Christmas Billy and I each asked for a book - the ones by the President and First Lady Bush. Dale called me up and told me he was going to have to find another place to shop. "His" Hastings would never allow him back in if HE bought THOSE books THERE. Gave me a good laugh. He poked fun at some of the changes in Billy's political point of view, "blamed" me for it. I told him I could only save one Tanksley at a time but he could be next.

Sadly, I won't get that chance. At least not in this lifetime. I'm pretty sure you don't get to vote in Heaven so it won't really matter in the next.

He was always good for leaving a Facebook comment on my status. Good for the occasional phone call when a family matter needed tending to. He didn't always understand Billy's side of things and they had serious discussions on more than one occassion, but he would at least have the conversation. There will be no homemade CDs this year at Christmas of music he was certain we would love. And I have pictures from the one and only time Dale ever dressed up in a "monkey suit", our wedding. He told me later he wouldn't have done it for anyone else.

Dale was a big man, with a bigger heart. He was generous to a fault, reached out and helped so many and never, ever met a stranger. I have become Facebook friends with people I talked with at the funeral, and I've watched some of them become Facebook friends with each other. Even though we all live in different states. Still bringing people together. He loved his family, his friends, his life, his guitar, his music and his Razorbacks. I pray he has the best seat in the house come football season.

He left us with holes in our world and left us too soon. He was loved by many and will be missed by many more. May he rest in peace.

Faith

noreply@blogger.com (Deanne) — Sat, 28 May 2011 16:31:00 +0000

There's a lot of stuff I keep to myself. I'm sure you find that hard to believe, but it's true. I've always said that I try to do things because it is the right thing to do, not so that others will notice. But to tell this story, I have to tell you a couple of things that I wouldn't otherwise. Please excuse them.

Billy and I have our favorite causes that we support monetarily. It will come as no surprise to anyone that they are primarily based around the care and support of animals. This world is full of causes, most of them honest and worthy, but it seems like with animals the choices are always one of two - a "regular" shelter or a no-kill shelter. Obviously we prefer one over the other, but we support both. We want to give every animal possible a fighting chance. It has always just broken our hearts that these sweet little animals that want nothing but love and companionship so often end up at a shelter, and worse, because of the thoughtless, inhumane acts of human beings. We're just trying to help those who can't help themselves.

That isn't to say that we don't help human causes as well. We do. But more of that is with time than money. It has just always seemed to us that there are plenty of organizations that help men, women and especially children, who, like the animals, are also innocent victims of the poor decisions of the adults around them, that we could divert our funds elsewhere.

This is a time that we didn't.

We live two blocks from the residential shelter for abused children. (We also happen to live two blocks from the abused women's shelter. But that isn't really relevant to this.) I'm also friends with the director of the children's shelter, she and her sister, so it wasn't a surprise when I received a Facebook invite to a "Going to College" shower. I read the invite, thought "oh how nice" and responded as I do to anything I get on Facebook with a "maybe". See, it was on Thursday afternoon from 4-6. I already had our Kiwanis Club quarterly social on Thursday from 5 to about 6:30, bunco from 6 to 8:30, and a church meeting from 6:30 to 8. As all my Thursdays are, I was booked. (One of these days I will point out to all these organizations that there are actually 7 days in a week they could choose from!) I actually didn't give the shower much more thought. I was out of town last weekend and then working all week so it kind of slipped.

Until I checked my Facebook page Thursday morning.

The event was on my wall as a reminder. I reread the blurb about the young lady for whom the shower was being given. She was a resident and had been accepted to a pre-pharmacy program at a college on the Coast. I thought about it a minute or two, realized that Billy and I had purchased some gift cards the week before and still had one and I thought I could stick that in a card and drop it off at lunch.

Seemed simple enough. Asked Billy if he cared if I gave away the gift card. In his true fashion, he responded, "well, I'm usually more all about the animals, but this seems goods too."

Conscience assuaged, I left for work.

But I'm still thinking. It's a problem I have. Kiwanis Club - whose mission is to change the lives of others one community and one CHILD at a time. I'm thinking here is a good opportunity to help the life of one child so I emailed the president to see what he thought. Great idea, he said. Run to Wal-Mart and get a $100 gift card from the Club.

Done.

I signed the card for the whole Club since we weren't having our regular lunch meeting that Thursday and the shower was only a few hours away.

That's when I decided to actually attend the shower. It was no longer just a little $30 card from us, I was also representing a larger organization.

What a wonderful decision I made.

Let me tell you about "Faith", the young lady I met. (Obviously Faith is not her real name, but its close.)

First of all, the shelter was all decorated and food spread out on the table. Dips, burgers, cookies, the works! And a lovely young lady was sitting at one end of the room, surrounded with gifts of sheets, towels, and all manner of other things a new college student needs for her dorm room. I gave her the cards and she opened them and her face truly lit up. "This is so nice!" she exclaimed. And it was genuine. You could see it all over her face.

Then the director pulled me and another lady aside and told us Faith's story and why she was so special. She wasn't the first the resident to go to college. There had been football players and other young people go on. But none quite like this.

Faith had suffered all manners of abuse from almost birth. Her drug abuser biological mother had her parental rights terminated after her boyfriend repeated sexually abused and raped Faith as a toddler. Yes, you read that correctly. She was a TODDLER. Preschool.

Faith was placed into the State foster system and ultimately adopted. Before the ink was dry on the adoption papers her new "mom" started beating her. And continued to do so until Faith was old enough to start hitting back at around age 14.

Sounds like a failure in the system to me.

Faith is back in that system, though. In and out of shelters and foster homes and even mental institutions. She was exhibiting some of the worst possible behaviors - trying to strangle a roommate and burn down one of the shelters. Was ultimately diagnosed as bipolar but still, she had quite the records of issues following her when she landed in Natchez.

To our shelter's extreme credit, they view every child that comes through its doors as a fresh face. They are aware of the child's past but it gets left on the front porch and they are only judged by what goes on under their roof. The past is simply that, the past. Not to be confused with the present or future.

Faith starts to blossom in this environment. She commented to the director one day that they must not have known all about her and what all she'd done before. Her response to the director correcting that notion was a disbelieving "And you took me anyway?"

Yes.

Faith later commented that this was the first place that had seen her as person and not only as a behavior.

The inappropriate behaviors stopped and she started truly functioning like a real teenage girl. Not only going to school but passing and doing well enough to graduate. And graduate well enough to be accepted to a pre-pharmacy program.

THAT was why we were having a shower for her. Her personal accomplishments were what made her special. Virtually anyone would have "understood" if she had become just another victim of society and the system. Happens every single day. But SHE wasn't going to settle for that. Neither were those around her. I've seen that shelter and those women are incredible. I could not do what they do. Simply couldn't. But they gave her the space and support she needed to grow and flourish and not be satisfied to be a victim. She's going to make something of her life.

The second part of the story is one I'm still mulling over. You see, it hit her the other day that she was going to be 18 soon and would no longer be in the custody of the Mississippi Department of Human Services. She would be on her own in every sense of the word since she had no family and no home. And she was scared. What would she do in college over holiday breaks? She had no place to go.

As I said, the women at the shelter are incredible ladies and they aren't leaving Faith out in the world alone. She has a home in Natchez, probably staying with the director or other friends here in town.

Faith is going to make it. I can feel it. I hope I can find a way to help her. Maybe as a mentor or something. I have a cousin in pharmacy school in Arkansas - maybe I can do something there. I don't know.

All I do know is that I was blessed that day to get to meet her and I will continue to keep up with her. I'm very glad I left work 30 minutes early to drop off those cards in person. And when I left I congratulated her again on her accomplishments and she said "Thank you so much for coming", and she meant it.

There are a lot of Faiths in the world. The children that get overlooked or lost in the system. Sometimes they honestly don't need a whole lot. A stable environment, support, understanding, and the right amount of pushing in the right direction. They don't need their bad behavior "excused" but they don't need it lorded over them either. They need to be made to feel like they are contributing members of society and will be expected to contribute. Sometimes all it takes is for someone to have a little "Faith" in them.

They are only victims if they choose to be. They can be survivors.

And they are most definitely teachers. Teaching all us what it means to look adversity in the eye and not blink. Showing us what it means to truly live a life.

Good luck Faith! As I told my nephew on his graduation last week: May your path be straight and your steps sure. May you keep your eyes on the horizon, always looking for the next thing.

And thanks Matilda and all the ladies at the shelter. You took coal and made a diamond, as you always do.

And There Was Dancing In The Streets

noreply@blogger.com (Deanne) — Mon, 23 May 2011 21:45:00 +0000

On May 2, 2011, the world heard the news for which the United States had waited almost 10 years. Osama bin Laden had been located and killed.

The face of evil was no more (quite literally if you believe the reports).

It was a little hard to believe at first. It's been so long and the media so often get it wrong. And I had not heard the President speak, only received the news the following morning.

But the celebrations had started. In my head I couldn't quit singing "Ding Dong the Witch is Dead!" from the "Wizard of Oz". There were pictures of people in the streets with noisemakers and music. It looked very much like New Year's Eve in Times Square.

And as much as I don't begrudge anyone celebrating this in their own way, I kept coming back to something that Coach Lou Holtz used to tell his players - (paraphrased) if you score a touchdown, just put the ball down in the endzone or hand it to the referee. Act like you've been there before, even if you haven't.

I wish we could have approached the event like an item on our to do list.
Wash the car Check
Walk the dog Check
Pick up milk Check
Kill bin Laden Check
Soccer practice Check

Basically, the Navy Seals just did their job. For all we know, it simply was an item on their overall to do list. And they got it done.

I think it bothers me some because of the way we always react whenever one of our innocent soldiers or a journalist is captured and sometimes killed. The people in support of that behavior are firing guns into the air and dancing for joy and we can't believe that other human beings would act that way.

I am in NO WAY comparing the mastermind, orchestrator of the worst attack on American soil to our innocent soldiers, do not misunderstand me for an instant. I had family in Washington DC on that morning who saw the Pentagon and in New York City in the midst the chaos. Billy and I had our picture made less than two weeks before standing in the courtyard of Towers I and II in front of the gold globe and the sky that morning was just as blue as it was when those planes flew into the Towers and we could have been there. So no, I am not comparing the evil of that one human being to anything good. I am glad the SOB was DOA and I say good riddance to bad rubbish, but still...

I wish that, collectively, we could have just handed the ball to the ref and moved on.

Because there will be others. They are already plotting. And for all I know we fueled their desire to wreak even more havoc. We may get a short respite. We have done some serious damage to the Al-Queda organization. But it is by no means over. We might have scored a touchdown, but there is still time on the clock.

I Am 45 Today

noreply@blogger.com (Deanne) — Wed, 18 May 2011 05:01:00 +0000

And apparently I don't care who knows it.

I've always been a big birthday celebrant. (But I'm not fishing for birthday wishes, honest). I've always figured it was way better to have a birthday than to not have one. Beats the alternative I say. I will celebrate for weeks if allowed!

But today's birthday is a bit of a milestone, at least in my mind, and I thought I would reflect a little.

I've been really very blessed. I was raised in a good home. Parents that loved each other. Strong discipline. Good values. A wonderful foundation for becoming an independent adult. I'm lucky to still have my mother in my life. I won't pretend, though, that I don't miss my dad and wish that we could have had more years together.

I picked the right mate, the first time. I know not everyone is that lucky. I have a partner in my life that I cannot even imagine living without. He supports me. He challenges me. He stands beside me. And he loves me.

I have a sister that started as a typical little sister and became one of my best friends. It wasn't always that way, and I won't say otherwise. But we reached a point in college where a true friendship started to blossom and has grown into something that I'm really really glad I have. She's one of the first people I call when I need something, or just want to talk. We even check in every once in a while just to say hi.

And she's blessed me with two nephews and a niece that fill my maternal gap. I love those kids with all my heart and soul and would do anything for them.

I have dear friends that I've known practically all my life and know that they are never more than a phone call away. Very comforting. We don't have to see each other often, or even talk that much, but they are there and I know it and that is all I need, really.

And tons of family that have made my life so far so worth living. Uncles, aunts, cousins too numerous to name. You all know who you are and that I love you.

I have some skills that have enabled me to earn a nice living, and some others that allow me to have some fun. Explore my creative side.

And my days start and end with the unconditional love of 8 wonderful puppy dogs. Billy brought the first one into our lives less than 4 months into our marriage and we've never been without at least one since then. Matter of fact, there was only one for one year. We got the second precious baby almost exactly one year later and we've had multiples ever since. I can't begin to think about what my days would be like without them. I'm not sure I'd know how to act! Or that I'd even want to find out. They are a handful and a half, but they're ours.

I hope that I have longevity on my side. My grandmother turned 97 in February, so it's not beyond the realm of possibility! With all I've invested in Oil of Olay products (honestly, they owe me a Christmas card!) I hope that when I am 97, I won't look a day over 90.

But I also know that I have no guarantees. I lost an old friend last month who was the same age I am today. He didn't make it to his 46th birthday. Yes, it was largely the result of poor choices, but still. None of us have any promises of a tomorrow, much less a better tomorrow than today. When I think about how many emergency asthma attacks there were growing up, and the couple of times I almost drowned, well I have to say I'm just darn glad to be here!

So I know have to make the most of every day. And celebrate the birthdays! It honestly could be the last. I have to keep scratching things off my Bucket List and keep working at being the best me I can be. And never take for granted that, as much as I love Scarlett O'Hara, tomorrow is another day.

We Wait, and We Watch

noreply@blogger.com (Deanne) — Sun, 15 May 2011 01:22:00 +0000

The Mississippi River is the highest it has ever been. And it hasn't finished rising yet. The crest is expected in about 4 or 5 days. On Thursday this past week we broke the record that had stood since 1937 when we crossed the 60 feet mark. And in my head I keep hearing Johnny Cash singing "Five Feet High and Rising".

Like many others, I walked to down to the river last night. I can't remember the last time I saw so many folks downtown. Not a lot of talking going on, just looking. And taking pictures. The little town across the river, Vidalia, is already starting to flood. The riverfront park is under water and the businesses are surrounded by sand bag fences. The water is creeping up the levee. It is only a matter of time. (Side note - for those that don't know - Natchez is about 200 feet above the river up on a cliff. Our house is probably another 30 feet above that. If we ever flood, there's an ark out there somewhere and there's other things to worry about.)

On our side, the casino closed last week. Some of the old buildings no longer in business were taken down. A sand bag fence along the riverbank turns and closes the street just on the far side of the last restaurant.

It is a scary time.

But here is what has impressed me the most - the spirit of the communities involved.

Parked along the top of the bluff were rows of recreational vehicles. And a Concordia Parish Sheriff's Command Post. And storm chasers. All parked on what is normally private property. Our office has offered our conference rooms and vacant office space to an attorney's office that will most likely be temporarily displaced. A coworker has given up valuable storage space to people needing to move their household belongings, and done so at no charge. There is an emergency animal shelter one block from our house in a city-owned building to house the animals, not only those abandoned but also those that maybe can't go with their owners to a shelter. It is being manned by volunteers from around the country and assisted by the locals.

We're seeing true neighbor helping neighbor, right in our own backyard. And we're not alone. Today, the Army Corp of Engineers started opening spillways to take some pressure off the river. That water that is being diverted to save Baton Rouge and New Orleans from almost certain disaster will most likely take out many small towns. Flooding thousands of homes. Earlier in the process, precious farmland in Missouri was sacrificed to blow some levees and do the same thing - flood specific areas to spare others.

And you know what? I haven't heard anyone complaining about it. Unlike the tornadoes that dropped out of the skies over Arkansas and Alabama and northern Mississippi a few weeks ago, everyone here has had warning. They've had time to decide what they need to keep, protect it and head to higher ground. They recognize that a natural disaster is simply and Act of God and nothing that could be avoided. And that sometimes someone has to "take one for the team" in order to lessen what could be an even greater disaster.

I'm proud of my "neighbors" - those near and far. It has actually restored some of my faith in human nature. I watched the citizen of New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina blame everyone except Mother Nature for what they were experiencing. Yes, it was horrible. The storm itself and the flood after were unprecedented. But the looting was shameful and the blame was unacceptable.

You live in a soup bowl and high water could be a problem.

You ignore the orders to evacuate and you might get stuck on a roof or in the Super Dome with hundreds of others.

Instead, help each other and help yourself and keep everything in perspective. Remember to be thankful that you had warning and time to take action instead of hearing the scream of a tornado siren as you see the funnel cloud heading to your house.

Remember that this too shall pass.

Watch, and wait.

But I Have Not Been Idle....

noreply@blogger.com (Deanne) — Sun, 01 May 2011 17:19:00 +0000

Feels so good to be behind the keyboard again - at least the half with letters, not numbers. I really learned last year that the blog has to take a hiatus during busy season. I'm typically not coherent enough to write, assuming I can even stay awake long enough after I get home. Most nights I can't.

But I have not been all work. I have not been sitting idly by.

The week of Easter I was in Washington, DC attending a review course and exam. I can now call myself a certified fraud examiner. Three more initials are added behind my name on my business cards. I have one more credential I'd like to earn. Maybe later this year. If I can find the time to study. That's the rub. One of our instructors in the review course noted that we were all there because "Life got in the way".

And that was true. I'd been studying off and on for 18 months. Some people there had received the materials in 2006 and had finally signed up for the course just to help them get it finished. It really did help me focus and I got the job done. All four parts passed and now it is behind me.

I also finished a course for a personal growth opportunity. I started back in the fall and finished it Easter weekend. I learned a lot about a subject matter that was interesting to me and made some positive changes in my personal life.

As a part of that study, I got to marry my best friend. Again.

This time was different. It was the two of us and the priest. Two witnesses and three friends in the congregation. One of whom played wedding photograper with her phone. My underlying theme, no dress no drama.

It certainly would have been nice to have family involved, but, let's face it, most people don't get married on a Tuesday night at 5:30 after work. In the middle of busy season no less. Would not have been practical in the least to have anyone but those few folks there. But the most important person in my world was there and it was a simple service about the two us renewing the vows we first made almost 22 years ago.

Which is what weddings are supposed to be about. Not the flowers or the dress or the cakes or how many attendants in matching dresses you can line up beside you.

I also finished my Leadership Natchez class and will graduate on May 12. The importance of that program really can't be overstressed. I learned so much about Natchez through it. Things I might not have otherwise. And the important things - what our education and healthcare systems are really like; how to help our social services organizations that are helping others in need; that if I ever commit a crime it will federal since that prison was way nicer than the county and city facilities (that was only a joke - the part about committing a crime, not that the federal facility was nicer); and how to enjoy some of the truly unique cultural activities rooted in this town. Yesterday we capped it with the 2nd Annual Kickball Tournament.

So, I have worked, and worked a lot. But I've also played and learned and grown.

One of my audit clients uses Billy to clean their carpets. We had scheduled it initially for this weekend but when I looked at the calendar again I remembered the kickball tournament. It is a large commercial job so I have to help Billy with what I can, and it still ends up taking him about 15 or 16 hours. So I emailed the director and asked if we could push it back and told her why I needed to. A while later I received a response. It was fine to move it she said. Then she followed up "All I have to say about 'kickball tournament' - Life is not passing you by!"

No ma’am! Not much for standing on the sidelines.

The Power of the People

noreply@blogger.com (Deanne) — Sun, 20 Mar 2011 02:00:00 +0000

Every time I have sat down to work on this post lately, something else happens in the world that proves my point.

The first real display of people rising up was in Egypt. The people of that nation decided that 30 years was an adequate term limit for their president so those stood up and demanded change.

And it happened.

Other nations across the Middle East started doing the same.

Now we're seeing it in Libya.

We even saw it in our own country when the citizens of Wisconsin stood up to their elected officials and demanded to be represented.

The interesting thing has been the reactions. The Egyptian president ultimately stepped down. That was what his people wanted. Qaddafi opted to use the military and fire on his protesters. Death before dishonor I suppose.

We saw the good that people can do when they decide to make a change. We have also seen the ugly side of man. I cannot adequately express the utter disappointment and disgust when a group of men in Egypt attacked and assaulted a female news reporter. In "celebration" of their victory. But an extremely brave group of women jumped in and protected her from further harm.

I say brave because most of us know how highly women are regarded in Middle Eastern countries.

Here was a group of women standing up and, in effect, saying "we're tired of life the way it is and demand a change".

A wise man once noted that you can lead, follow, or get out of the way. Thise are your 3 choices in most situations. We've seen a little of all of that lately. People standing up and leading their fellow man. Leaders getting out of the way of progress by stepping down or making compromises.

We don't have to "settle" in this world. Each of us can effect change in our environments. Sometimes it is hard, no question there. But where would we be if a group of people hadn't wanted change and left England for this strange New World? Or if the earliest settlers hadn't decided that taxation without representation was wrong?

Now, we don't know if the changes will be good ones. Only that change is coming.

A Tale of Two Men

noreply@blogger.com (Deanne) — Sun, 27 Feb 2011 01:11:00 +0000

Two men died in the last week. One I knew, but probably shouldn't have. The second, I should have but didn't.

The paradox hit me today.

I could have attended the memorial service tonight for a local Natchez resident, originally from Newport, Arkansas, who was elegant, gracious, and urbane. He might also might not have been all that he seemed. I had met him. We served on a board together, but he only came to one meeting. He hosted a party that I attended. It was a formal dinner with the best silver and china that I had ever seen. He owned many homes in Natchez that he renovated. I toured one during a meeting and was floored by the sheer opulence of the place. Gold gilt covered cornices and murals covered the walls. Chandeliers lit mere powder rooms. Over the top doesn't even begin to describe the interiors. But I felt like I would be a "looky-loo" if I attended the service. And I believe it was only one of several memorials. He died over a week ago.

He wanted the world to know him. He made himself known. But I do think he was a good person inside. He opened his home and was generous with many local organizations. He had resources and used them wisely and was intelligent and patient with all who wanted to talk with him. He ran in unusual circles and knew lots of people.

The other man, I should have known but didn't. I love his family, but he was not a part of it. I never had an opportunity to see his face or talk to him or see what his life was like. I don't know how he spent his free time, or made a living. I don't know what sports teams he liked, or even if he followed sports. And he only lived a few hours away. He died and there may not even be a service. I don't know for sure. But from what I know, he was an honest man who worked hard and made an honest living. He chose to be alone, and that's how he stayed.

I feel badly, but don't really know how to handle it. How to process the whole thing.

I feel loss, but for the wrong person.

I feel a need to remember, but have no memories.

I feel like I should be mourning, but have no sense of loss.

I pray that both men rest in peace.

Reading, Writing and What?

noreply@blogger.com (Deanne) — Mon, 31 Jan 2011 02:41:00 +0000

I haven't said much about Leadership Natchez but it's a really neat program sponsored by our Chamber of Commerce. We meet once a month, we're a group of 17, and learn different things about our City.

The first month was Healthcare. We visited all 3 hospitals in the area and learned about all the different services we have available. I left that day no longer feeling like I would need to be airlifted out of Natchez for a cold.

The second month was education. Let's be honest. Natchez is not known for it's public school system. At not least known positively. But I learned there really is a lot about which to be proud.

We visited one public school, the pre-K and Kindergarten school (in Natchez, all children of the same grade attend one school. 1st and 2nd in one building, 3rd and 4th in another, and so on.), all three private schools, and both college campuses.

It was a very full day!

But very educational (pun intended!). The technology is amazing, and most all schools have it, although to varying degrees. The biggest change is the "chalkboards".

There are very few left. They are being replaced by "smart boards". White, illuminated boards that are connected to a laptop on the teacher's desk. And they do everything.

We saw one type that had lesson plans built in to the software. I kid you, not! Built in! One board had clickers that the students could use to answer multiple choice questions. Almost like a game show.

The Catholic school had these in every classroom. And three or four classrooms had banks of laptops for the students to use. In elementary. And they didn't have to check one out to use it, there were plenty right there at their fingertips.

In one science class, though, the enormity of it hit me. We were watching a lesson on the planets, watching them spin on the screen, and it was pointed out that there were no textbooks.

Yes, you heard me right. NO TEXTBOOKS!

I know I'm "old" but I had no idea that such a world even existed. The students are only tested on what they learn in the classroom. And the biggest problem, according to the administrator, is finding qualified substitutes. Not just anyone can use those smartboards. There's no Teacher's Guide. No books at all.

One private school had a few, the other none, and the public school had them in the library and one other common area. But there were lots of computers in the public schools, even in the pre-K rooms.

They have to start them early.

It was very enlightening.

We were also given the opportunity to give back, as they say. As business owner and other leaders in town, we were asked to speak to the public school system's 8th through 10th grades about the Mississippi Scholars program. Basically, we were selling education. Trying to encourage these young people to think beyond next week. To understand that their future, in particular their earning power, is directly related to their level of education now and after high school. Not everyone is cut out for a 4 year university, but that isn't the only option. There is the military, trade schools, community colleges. The options are there as long as the students get the right foundation now.

I spoke to two classes and thanked the central office for the opportunity. I don't know if any of them listened to what we had to say, but all it takes is one. If one student left after one of those with a new focus or better plant, then wonderful. If not, then we tried.

I didn't know exactly what I was getting into when I signed up for Leadership Natchez. So far, though, it has provided me with so much insight. Natchez is so much more than "just a pretty face".

The Greatest Gifts

noreply@blogger.com (Deanne) — Mon, 24 Jan 2011 04:01:00 +0000

I love giving gifts. Real, thoughtful gifts. Sometimes for no reason at all.

I really dislike giving money or gift cards for special occasions, although sometimes it is necessary with teenagers in the family. What they are "into" changes from minute to minute and by the time I discover something is "hip" it is so yesterday. So I acquiese to them.

Except for my niece and nephews, I tried very hard to not ask what everyone wanted this past Christmas. I wanted to make an real effort to think about what I wanted to give, not focus on what they wanted. As adults, most us can buy what we want or need so it can easily turn into just a day of trading boxes, not really giving gifts.

It's hard to do. The easiest thing is just to get a list from everyone and just go scratch items off. But that isn't really the purpose of gift-giving, now is it?

I have two very dear friends with whom I have lunch each year when we're home for Christmas. I have known Heather since our first day of first grade at Argenta Elementary School. Our friendship is pushing 40 years. She lives in Atlanta now and we try to get one visit a year in at one of our houses. I've known Cindy since I was in high school and she was at Hendrix. We spent one year at Hendrix together and have stayed in touch ever since. Although they didn't really know each other previously, Cindy and Heather ended up at the same church while Heather was still in North Little Rock and developed their own strong friendship.

Our annual lunch is a special treat for the three of us. We talk as though we only saw each other the day before and there is no shortage of topics to discuss, and nothing is off limits. We eat at the same restaurant most years and we've closed the place down more than once.

And there are gifts.

Special gifts.

You see, these gifts are gifts from our hearts. We don't call each other and ask what the other one wants. We put real thoughts and efforts into the gifts. Heather travels to Europe extensively and always brings us something from wherever she's been. Linens from Switzerland. Glass ornaments from Venice. A kitchen tile from Italy.

Cindy has found things at her weekend at War Eagle or in town during the year. This year we received beautiful Tiffany blue jewelry boxes with a silver hummingbird and a purse compact that matched. And we can count on the gift from Cindy being presented in a beautiful tote bag for the books that Heather and I devour at every opportunity.

Gifts from the heart.

As they should be.

Of course, the time we spend together is the greatest gift. I know I could call either of them at any time and they'd come running. Just knowing and having these ladies in my life is a blessing and I'm forever grateful for the gifts of their friendship.

Malicious Mischief

noreply@blogger.com (Deanne) — Tue, 28 Dec 2010 18:03:00 +0000

As published in the Natchez Democrat, December 10, 2010.

Malicious mischief. That is what the police report called the shattered car window I was seeing. Looking at the pieces scattered all around on the street and in my car’s backseat, I could only agree with the “malicious” part. I’d always considered “mischief” to be harmless and fun-loving.

What I was seeing was neither.

Someone, who was bored or frustrated with life or for some other reason, decided to knock out one of my windows on the Friday night after Thanksgiving. My husband and I were awakened by a policeman at 4:30 on Saturday morning who saw it as he was driving down our street. And that person, or persons, didn’t just knock out the window, they used a pry bar on it as to make sure the car door was dented, the paint chipped and the inside trim pieces broken.

In other words, they did it up right.

But that is all they did. They just knocked out the window. Now, in relating this story I have said many times what you’re all saying to yourselves right now, at least they didn’t take anything. I wasn’t robbed. I guess he or she or they didn’t know the car belonged to a certified public accountant and the only thing in my backseat was some material from some recent conferences I attended.

Pretty boring stuff.

No, they didn’t rob me. But since I did have to spend $700 repairing the car door and window who they actually robbed were the citizens of Natchez. That was money that wasn’t budgeted for that type of unexpected expense. Nor was it budgeted for my own Christmas. At this time of year many churches and other civic organizations sponsor families at Christmas. Families needing a helping hand to have a Christmas lunch, or pay their utilities, or put gifts under the Christmas tree for their children and other family members. I am a member of many such organizations and all have asked for their members to contribute.

So, to those that vandalized my car I say this: Seven hundred dollars could have gone a long way this Christmas season. Seven families could have gotten $100 gift cards for food from the Natchez Markets. I know a couple of families had children wanting bikes. My money could have helped with that. Or paid an elderly couple or young family’s gas bill next month when it gets so cold outside. Or purchased supplies for the Guardian Shelter or Stewpot – organizations helping others. Or any number of things. And the people that money was going to help could have been your neighbors, your friends, or your very own family.

So, no, I wasn’t robbed. But many in Natchez were.

Now, I will still contribute to these organizations as I’ve been asked to do. I just will not be able to do as much as I had planned. Because those vandals can’t rob me of my joy or steal my Christmas spirit.

I won’t let them.

Jolly Old St. Nicholas

noreply@blogger.com (Deanne) — Sun, 12 Dec 2010 18:19:00 +0000

Disclaimer: Remember, the opinions expressed in this blog are the thoughts of the writer - me - and in no way reflect anyone else's. Unless you post a comment, then those are yours.

Fox News reported this morning that the YMCA had decided Santa Claus would no longer be making the rounds at their clubs. Frosty the Snowman would.

Personally, I have nothing against Frosty. He's actually a pretty "cool" dude. But I couldn't believe that an organization with the word Christian in its title was going to pass up such a wonderful opportunity to teach children a valuable lesson.

What does God look like? Does anyone know? The Holy Spirit is represented in the Bible as both a flame and a dove, among other images. We are made in His likeness. Any representation of God would be symbolic one, wouldn't it, since we have no pictures of God, or Jesus? We only have artists' interpretations. So can't we decide what God looks like, at least to us?

I will not dispute that Christmas is way too commercialized. Won't argue that point for even an instant. But we have here a truly unique situation to try and change some of that. At least plant a seed a two.

First, Santa Claus evolved from Saint Nicholas, a real person. He was a real Greek bishop in the Catholic Church that lived centuries ago who had a penchant for secret gift-giving. He liked to leave small gifts at doorsteps or coins in the shoes the children left outside. He was a protector of children and recognized by the Church by achieving Sainthood for all the works of his life.

So, the concept of Santa Claus does have foundational roots in religion, right? Isn't Santa a person who loves children and secretly leaves them gifts once a year?

Stay with me here.

Second, many traditions in religion are symbols or remembrances of true events. I doubt anyone really believes that Jesus was actually born on December 25. But Christmas is a celebration of the event, not the date, surrounding the birth of Christ.

And who, or what, is Jesus? Jesus is a gift from God. The greatest gift. God, a "person" that no one has ever seen, giving a gift to the World.

Yes, Jesus is more than that, depending on your belief system - a Savior, the Messiah, a Healer, Teacher, the Light of the World and all the rest. But Jesus was also called a Gift.

So, why couldn't the YMCA have taken the initiative to start the children thinking of Santa Claus as just another representation of the image of God? A chance to get them to see that, like God, Santa Claus brings gifts to our lives and, by example, encourages us to give gifts to others.

Wouldn't that have been better than banning Santa Claus?

I hate the phrase "teachable moment" but that was one if I ever saw it.

Too bad they missed it.

The Human Condition

noreply@blogger.com (Deanne) — Sat, 27 Nov 2010 14:19:00 +0000

My day started around 4:30 with a cacophony of barking dogs.

Ours.

I rolled over in bed to find Billy standing at the bedroom window looking out. Apparently our street was full of police cars. And they were all parked in front of one house.

Ours.

A policeman had been giving a friend a ride home from his night job when he noticed that the back driver's side window on my car was all over the street. He stopped, called another officer and they made a report.

The vandals didn't take anything. There wasn't anything of value in it. I know better than to leave anything in sight. So they just hit it and left. Maybe our dogs started barking at the window shattering and scared them off before they could get anything.

You really can't go back to sleep after that so we just started the coffee pot and turned on the television. Two of the top stories were about a trampled shopper and a Marine who was stabbed in a robbery during Black Friday yesterday.

Is this what we're coming to?

Just two days ago we all gathered around family tables and gave thanks for all our blessings.

The next day, people turn into animals.

Yes, I know. The people that behave like this are "animals" to begin with. No real sense of common decency or propriety. An all-for-one attitude and the one is "me".

There are several ways to approach this. I could get angry. Wonder why I can't park my own car in front of my own house without anything happening to it. Wonder whose hide I need to find to exact revenge. I could get all sanctimonious and spout off about how glad I am I'm not like them.

Or I could continue to be thankful.

Thankful they didn't come into the house. (An elderly woman woke up the other day to an intruder.) Thankful they didn't take anything I couldn't replace. (A couple was robbed outside a restaurant the other night.) Thankful it happened when Billy was home. (He's already been taking care of me for a week and Riley since Thursday).

I can be glad that three people have been kind enough to stop and tell us that we had a problem and not just kept driving by - like all those folks that kept stepping on the shopper that fell instead of helping him up or making room for him to help himself.

I can not allow myself to become embittered by what I perceive as bad behavior all around me.

After all, the only person I can control in all of this is me.

We Are What We Live

noreply@blogger.com (Deanne) — Sun, 14 Nov 2010 12:17:00 +0000

Sometimes people think I share too much on this blog. Too much personal stuff. Well, let me tell you THIS story.

I am involved in a program this year through our Chamber of Commerce - Leadership Natchez. It's a 9 month program where we get in depth learning of our city and take on projects to make it even better. The first session was a two day retreat led by a nationally known speaker specializing in personal relationships. She led us through several personality tests and team building exercises to help a very diverse group of 17 act as one unit.

Her life factored heavily into her teaching. By the end of the FIRST day we knew that she had had an abortion growing up, her two oldest children had been sexually abused by a foster child their home, their youngest child drowned at the age of 3 in the family swimming pool, she had almost died of alcohol poisoning twice and tried to commit suicide on more than one occasion, and her husband went from being a prominent successful attorney in their area to being disbarred from embezzling from his clients' trust funds. The clients didn't press charges so he avoided prison. They had nothing now. She even had to borrow a car to drive to teach us.

Compared to that, my life is a vault! There's tons of stuff I've never shared! She, like me sometimes, felt like the only way to get someone to understand your position, or your dreams, is to share the events that shaped them. She was currently fulfilling a lifelong dream of owning and operating a home for teenage mothers. Someone had gifted her the land and building. The dream arose from wanting to provide an alternative that she never felt she had when facing the same situation. She's also published articles based on a phrase her 3 year old uttered not long before she died. The little girl had asked for something and the mother snapped back a response. On her way out the door the little girl looked back and informed her mother that she had hurt her heart.

The speaker felt like we needed the background to see why she felt her methods were working and important. That leading from the heart was a critical piece of the overall puzzle.

While my life has not been, blessedly so, quite as dramatic as all of this, I have seen my share of problems. And some of them do very much shape my responses to things. And I have shared with some people things that others in my life might wish I hadn't, but I needed the other person to understand that I wasn't just SAYING "I know how you feel", I DID know how they felt. I'd experienced it as well.

And I had come out on the other side.

Hopefully a better person. At least a more empathetic one.

We aren't meant to travel this world alone. We are "pack animals", meaning we need the others in our daily lives to help and support. Sometimes others need to know that they aren't the first ones to face a crisis, nor will they be the last. If sharing some deep dark secret from my personal life helps someone, then so be it. Our experiences aren't ours alone. What is the point of learning something if we keep it to ourselves?

We're all teachers. We're all examples. As with any area of life, some are better than others. Some people are examples of what not to do. Some teach how to do things differently.

I don't think I've ever shared anything here that I didn't think others could relate to. My life isn't perfect. I get angry at my boss, frustrated with my family, lonely and tired and scared. All human emotions. But life isn't about WHAT we're handed. It's about how we DEAL with what we're handed.

You can suck on the lemons you're handed and end up with a sour face. Or you juice them and make one heck of a lemon pie.

A pie that you would gladly share with others.

It was Like 1997

noreply@blogger.com (Deanne) — Thu, 28 Oct 2010 11:16:00 +0000

1997.

Doesn't sound that long ago, really.

Only 13 years.

But over the last week I realized how much has really changed in that amount of time.

I came home from work last week, ate supper, and then went to my iPad to see how many Words with Friends games I need to make a move on.

Couldn't get in the game. It said my network was not working. OK, pretty standard stuff. There's lots of days I come home and it has disconnected. No biggie, I thought.

Wrong.

Instead of the normal DSL light glowing red and the rest green, this time the Power light was red and the rest were dark.

Now, in my mind IF a light is glowing at all I figured it must be getting power. In this old house, it isn't unusual, unfortunately, for a one plug in an outlet to go bad.

Seemed like a fairly simple fix. Just plug it in somewhere else.

After an hour of plugging and unplugging and switching plugs I finally called technical support. I'm sure most of you would have done it long before then, but I'm a "little" hard headed (no comments from the Peanut Gallery out there that is my family) and was convinced I could fix it myself.

Well, Missy with AT&T, was happy and chipper and went through all the questions. Did you plug it in? Yes. Did you switch plugs? Yes. Is there a light? Yes. It flashes red and green and acts like it wants to come on, but then stays red.

Oh. That was her response. I can hear typing on her end as I guess she's going through her flowchart to see what that means.

That means the DSL modem is defective.

Defective was not a word I wanted to hear.

Furthermore, we were not enrolled in the equipment maintenance plan so a new modem would be $100 and for an additional $20 they could overnight it. It would be at our house before Friday at 7.

Let me get this straight. YOUR equipment is defective and I have to pay for it?

Yes ma'am. You're not in the program and the modem is 3 years old. No longer under warranty.

I don't know if it was my hesitation, or if I cleared my throat, or just what, but suddenly we WERE enrolled in the program and they would be HAPPY to send out a replacement.

I'm no longer in panic mode and pretty sure I could survive a day or so with no Internet. Thursdays are very busy in my world anyway. And FedEx is usually here early in the day.

I could do this!

The next day I used my work computer to post on Facebook that I was down and would be out of commission for a while. I couldn't, however, tell all my Words with Friends players. Oh well, they'd figure it out.

Friday comes. I checked with Billy probably 3 times during the day. Is the modem here yet? No was always the response.

I wait. I'm like a kid waiting for Santa Claus. It's now 7. 7:30. Maybe he's just running late. Might have had a flat tire or something. 8. 8:30.

I go to bed dejected.

Saturday morning. Still nothing. I call AT&T. Kevin looks up the order. There is it. The UPS tracking number is this.

And it's still on the truck.

UPS doesn't deliver on Saturdays.

The website shows a delivery date of 10/25. What happened to the overnight I ask?

Apparently, they would overnight it when I was paying for it. When they were paying for it, that option came off the table.

So, I had a room full of "toys" that have limited use without the Internet. Billy and I had to drive around with a laptop all weekend looking for free WiFi if we needed to do something on the Internet. I did, almost, breakdown and see if I could still figure out how to do dial up.

Monday night I was back to "normal" and quite happy about it.

But I learned some lessons.

Last Thursday and Friday I got up and walked both mornings when I normally would have been sitting at my keyboard - emailing or Facebooking or reading the newspaper online. I studied over the weekend since I couldn't do any of those other things. We cleaned out a few things in the house since Billy had the pack rat's full attention.

But I also realized how truly dependent we are for some things. We had a list of stuff we needed to order that didn't get done until Monday. Natchez is a small town and we can't always find things we need here. Especially things that help Riley. Or ordering the supplies that Billy needs for his work. Those all come from California and I usually take care of that stuff by email because of the time difference. I was up late Monday trying to get that list taken care of so things could start shipping on Tuesday morning.

I know what you're all thinking - couldn't you just call them or email them from work? Well sure. Except I'm at work to work. And while I do check emails some during the day, I don't spend time ordering things and that kind of stuff. I'm paid to do a job and my time gets billed to my clients and they need to be billed honestly. My nonchargeable time is scrutinized to find out why I'm not billing. And I'm really very busy so often I look up and its time for lunch or past time to go home and I'm late again.

I do remember having more "free" time before I got all plugged in. But I missed my contact with my friends, even if only electronically. One of my Words with Friends opponents is now a Facebook friend. She became concerned when I wasn't playing and reached out. So, some good came of it.

So, what did I learn?

Yesterday, I walked in the morning instead of sitting here. I'm trying to remember to schedule the time away from here and do the things that need to be done. Like studying or making cakes or cleaning up or whatever.

Because the world didn't end when I wasn't 100% connected to it. I'm pretty sure most all of you will still be there when I get back online.

Because in your house it is still 2010.

My Purple Dress

noreply@blogger.com (Deanne) — Sat, 09 Oct 2010 18:21:00 +0000

To all who think I'm sharing too much information in this post, please accept my apologies up front.

Today is the Purple Dress Run. It is a "run" to raise awareness and funds for Domestic Violence. October is Domestic Violence Month - along with Breast Cancer Month. All about the girls.

I put the word run in quotes because after I signed up and paid my registration fee I discovered it was not a true run but really a pub crawl. Just like the Red Dress Run in New Orleans. Now, I enjoy a glass of wine and the occasional cocktail, but 7 bars in 2 hours is really not me. I'm not THAT big of a drinker.

But I will do what I can. I will participate.

And here is why.

I know I one of the lucky ones. I get to help. I'm not one of the ones needing the help.

Our battered women's shelter is at the end of my street. It sits on the cross street, facing my street. I see it every day as I pull away from the curb. I pass it on the way to some clients. It is ever present in my environment. But I rarely see the residents. They are sheltered - behind the brick walls and locked doors. From those that have, and would continue, do them harm.

Not long after Billy and I started dating we had one of those talks that couples have when things start to "get serious". Basically, I laid out my two ground rules - never hit me, don't cheat on me. Sounded simple enough. I felt like we could work through anything else. Billy agreed.

Months passed and we got married. Anyone who thinks the first year of marriage is a cake walk has never been married. It's tough. Constant adjustments and compromises. I can't tell you what led to a heated conversation one afternoon, but I can tell you how it ended.

I have a bit of a temper. A very long fuse, but once it goes, it's gone. I was so angry this time that I walked up and shoved Billy. Now, Billy is 15 inches taller and about 90 pounds heavier than I. I did no damage, nor was he ever in any danger from me. But he looked at me. Solemn as a church mouse. Not angry, just serious. His response "I told you I'd never hit a girl, but if you want to cross the line and act like a man, I will treat you like a man."

That stopped me in my tracks.

I had crossed the line.

We've never raised a hand in anger to each other again.

Now, some will say I chose well. I like to think that Billy was chosen for me, I just listened. The path we took to each other contained a lot of steps that were not usual along our everyday paths.

I know I'm blessed. I was raised in a household that let me know that I was loved, and worthy of being loved. I saw the example my daddy set on how to treat his wife and was told on more than one occasion that if a man didn't set me on a pedestal, he wasn't worth keeping. I knew that, as wonderful as Billy makes my life, I'd still have a good life without a man in it. A good man was a compliment to my life, not the completer.

I've never worn sunglasses or heavy makeup to work to hide a black eye. Never worn long sleeves in the summer to cover a bruise. Haven't had to lie to my friends, family and co-workers.

Nor have I lay in bed at night, praying my husband wouldn't come home. Worried that the house wasn't clean enough, or that supper would be late.

We all walk on eggshells sometimes because a loved one is in a bad mood, or sensitive, or whatever. But I've not feared that something I said or did might cost me my life.

A lot of folks in town weren't happy to discover the "run" was a pub crawl. They felt like alcohol is at the root of abuse and the organizers were being disrespectful to mix the two together. One young lady that helped put this whole thing together was, herself, a victim of abuse. Her response to the detractors - her ex was just as abusive sober as drunk.

You see, it was in his makeup, not a reaction to his circumstances or situation. Sometimes mean people are just mean. Doesn't matter.

So, while this event might not be what I initially thought it was, I will do what I can to help. Because I know how to count my blessings. They start with Billy and work their way down from there.

And I'm a believer in Karma. What goes around, comes around. I pray I never need the services of a battered women's shelter. I honestly believe I never will. That doesn't, however, mean I won't need some other type of help. And I hope the people and funding necessary are there when I do.

I don't have to see the women in the shelter or even know their names to want to help them.

That's what being a good neighbor is all about.

Isn't it?

Post Script: After arriving I determined that I was overdressed for the occasion and let the run go without me. I saw them off, cheering them all, and then came home. The registration fee was contribution enough. Next year, I'll volunteer to help but the "running" is best left to the professionals.

And the Circle Continues

noreply@blogger.com (Deanne) — Thu, 07 Oct 2010 01:17:00 +0000

I have very vivid memories of growing up with my Uncle Billy. We spent a lot of time on the farm during the summers or holidays and he never acted like he minded hanging out with us.

There are lots of good times that I could share - watching Star Trek and such - but there is one thing in particular that has always stood out to me.

When I was a child, I was an indoor child. Reading, board games, reading, needlework, reading. You get the picture. Someone gave me Scrabble for Juniors for some occasion. Most likely my birthday.

Uncle Billy agreed to play a game with me. I don't believe he had married yet so I was under the age of 10. It shouldn't come as any surprise to anyone that I read all the rules first before playing.

One of the rules stated that brand names were unacceptable words. So, when Uncle Billy played "arid" I protested! My limited vocabulary only knew "arid" as "Arrid", as in the antiperspirant. He patiently explained to me the definition of the word he played - dry, like a desert. Knowing me, I probably verified that with the dictionary.

But I've never forgotten that word. Nor how I learned it.

I love being an aunt. It is my favorite role, after being a wife.

I posted on my Facebook page that I was addicted to "Words with Friends" - an electronic Scrabble game. (I'm playing people from all over the United States, and the world. I have opponents in Australia and the United Kingdom.)

Clay, my 15 year old nephew, "liked" it.

And then he added his screen name and told me to send him a game invitation.

Maybe that's not all that cool to anyone else, but my heart soared! I love that the guys (17 and 15) will even acknowledge their old aunt, much less want to do things with me.

So, tonight, Clay and I are playing Scrabble. No, it isn't the same as sitting across the table from one another. And I may not teach him any new words. I may be more afraid of him teaching me some. But it is still nice.

Nice that technology has afforded me a means to play without making a 9 hour drive.
Nice that I may be able to make some memories with him. If not tonight, then on a future game.

And there will be future games.

Win or lose, I hit the rematch button.

Look out spankyD567!

A "Civil" War

noreply@blogger.com (Deanne) — Thu, 30 Sep 2010 22:33:00 +0000

I know the term Civil War only means that we fought ourselves. Because there is nothing "civil" about brothers fighting brothers, fathers against sons, neighbors meeting neighbors on a bloody battlefield.

Nothing.

People will always debate the causes of the War Between the States. The perspective is different based on where you live. There isn't even always consistency with what it's called. Around here, I hear The War of Northern Aggression. As I learned on my trip to Gettysburg this summer, some folks further north of here call it the War of Southern Rebellion.

As I've said before, perspective is everything.

What I don't think can be debated is the initial start of the war - regardless of what face was later put on it. The War was started because South Carolina asked a question.

Could they ignore a federal law that they believed was not in their best interest?

Now, remember, our nation was still young at this time. Actually less than 100 years old. A baby by most countries' standards.

Even though we declared our independence in 1776, there was a war to fight after that. And when we defeated the British, we were basically 13 states independent of England and each other. Each state functioned as an independent entity for many years. They printed their own money. Made their own laws. Operated themselves. The United States were not yet united.

The United States' Constitution was not written until 1787 and not ratified by the Continental Congress until 1789. So, when South Carolina asked their question, the nation itself was only about 70 years old.

Most all of Europe was centuries older than that.

South Carolina was told no. Federal laws were federal laws and that was that. They fired the first shot on Fort Sumter in retaliation. They launched an attack on the Union.

One of the most interesting things about my bus trip this summer was all the neat people we met from all over the country. The morning after our night in Gettysburg, one lady from California - whom I particularly liked - wanted to talk about the Civil War. She understood the South's having something for which they would fight - their culture, their livelihood, their whole way of life. But she didn't understand why the North would fight it. Why did they care enough to have a war? What effect did it have on them?

Well I researched and learned something. Part of the Presidential Oath taken by each inaugurated president is to preserve the Union.

And that is what President Lincoln was trying to head off - the succession of the South which would destroy the Union.

The topic could have been any topic. It happened to be revolving around slavery but it could have just as easily have been shipping routes or the common currency or anything else. South Carolina and the other Southern states could not be allowed to form their own nation.

Why, you're asking, am I talking about this now? Does it not sound familiar? The difference now is the topic.

Immigration.

Arizona has passed its own laws in response to a massive illegal immigration problem because the federal laws are not getting the job done. The federal government's response - you can't do that.

While I don't want to think it could happen, I can see the groundwork for another civil war. There are tons of states that support Arizona and their stand. Many have similar laws but, for whatever reason, have not drawn the same attention.

My question is this - why does the federal government care? Is it just to preserve the Union? If a state has a problem and they think their solution is better than the current conditions, why shouldn't they be allowed to implement it? Would not the Union be better preserved if each state could do whatever they felt best for their own citizens? Especially if the idea at the center of the controversy is supported by the majority of its citizens. Maybe it's just ego. Maybe it's a control issue.

No, I don't think an actual war will break out. But I can see how it did 140 years ago.

The answer to my question, I don't know. I don't know why the federal government cares enough to try and stop Arizona from enforcing their citizens' desire to stem the tide of illegal immigrants. I don't know why they've taken such a strong stance. If the problem was merely some wording, as has been alluded, then sit down and have a conversation. Don't send in troops of lawyers waving reams of paper, filing lawsuits faster than the court clerks can type.

I think it is a shame that it ever got that far. One of the purposes of the federal government is to protect her people. The government, and this goes way back - not just the current Administration, has not done that. Then why stand in the way of those who think they can? Men and women are dying daily on our border because of the problems and the inability of the federal government to fix them.

Yet they want to inhibit anyone from trying anything else.

Go figure.

Parlez-Vous Anglais?

noreply@blogger.com (Deanne) — Mon, 27 Sep 2010 02:28:00 +0000

I know this is old news, but it still bothers me.

There was a news story recently that a county - and I don't remember where - was looking at spending a lot of money to print their upcoming election ballots in Spanish for their non-English speaking CITIZENS.

Let me say that again.

Their non-English speaking CITIZENS.

CITIZENS.

Who are these citizens of the United States that don't speak English?

It was reported that the U.S. Constitution does not require that its citizens speak English. To my mind, it should be a no-brainer. If you are a citizen of this country, speaking the official language should be assumed automatically. No one should have to tell you that it is required. If I defected to Italy I wouldn't expect the citizenship test to be in English.

If you are born in this country, you are a citizen. You will also go through 10 to 12 years in one or more of our school districts. English is a standard subject in schools. While you may not be extremely proficient, dependent on your abilities, you should reach voting age able to speak and read English.

If you immigrate legally to this county and decide to become a naturalized citizen you will have to take a test to obtain citizenship. Now, I have been unable to confirm this but I would think the test is printed in English.

If it isn't, then I have a whole other topic to blog about.

But I believe that is it. It may be very rudimentary English, but it is in English.

So my question is this - who are these non-English speaking citizens?

I understand their English may not be perfect. A recent People Magazine article with Elin Woods (now Nordegren) stated that she would write the answers to the interviewer's questions because she didn't trust her spoken English. I know lots of people that immigrated to this country who speak with their native accents and so forth.

Fine. We don't speak when we vote. We read and select.

And a lot of times we're only reading names. Names translate fairly well in most languages.

OK, let's say I'm being too harsh and we should have multi-lingual ballots. (The news report did say that the Constitution does require some to be available). Shouldn't we then make sure that we have ALL possible languages? Why not print them not only in Spanish, but Vietnamese, French, German, Italian, Hebrew, Farsi, Chinese, Korean, and so on and so on?

Maybe I'm callous, but it sounds like someone is this county was looking to commit, or at least condone, voter fraud.

Which is a shame. The right to vote is one of the most invaluable rights we have. We have a say in our government. In our leadership. In the laws and consequences of our country.

Any fraud in that process should not be tolerated.

We have a privilege that all citizens in other countries don't have. It should not be taken lightly. Nor should the process be tainted. The right to vote, and exercising that right, is critical to the success of our great nation.

But it can only be exercised, and exercised once per person, by those persons who have earned that right.

I'm all for making the voting process fair and equitable. No one should feel intimated at the polls. No one should be afraid of not understanding the issues and persons on the ballot. But no one should be allowed to vote that hasn't earned that right.

A voice in our government is a reward of citizenship. To paraphrase an ad campaign - membership has its privileges.

And Her Name Was Katrina

noreply@blogger.com (Deanne) — Wed, 01 Sep 2010 02:27:00 +0000

I think about Hurricane Katrina this time every year. Sometimes even more often when we travel to New Orleans. With all the talk of this year being the 5th anniversary, I thought I would share our story.

2005 was the first year that my mother-in-law came to puppysit during our annual New York vacation to the US Open. The previous two years, after moving to Natchez, we had taken our then much smaller family to a "bed and biscuit" right in the heart of New Orleans on Magazine Street. But in 2005 our family included a 16 year old Pomeranian, a 9 year old Lab and three puppies under a year and half old. The population explosion had begun. I called our usual place only to discover the owner had closed up and moved elsewhere. I didn't really like the place she'd gone to and even though she offered to keep our Pom at her home we just decided to keep everyone at home and see if Billy's mom would come.

The Hand of Providence guided that decision for sure.

Since it was Margaret's first time and there was much to learn, she was already at our house on Friday night when I returned from a seminar in Jackson. We typically drove the two and half hours to New Orleans on Saturday for an early flight out on Sunday mornings. Her Friday arrival also turned out to be a good thing. Billy and I were still new to living in "hurricane country" so we hadn't been watching television much and when my friends came over Saturday morning to meet Margaret (Brenda and Mike were going to help her with anything if she needed them) they couldn't believe that we weren't packed up and heading out the door. Didn't we know a hurricane was coming?

Mmmm. Hadn't really thought about that.

We finished going through everything and left just after lunch. We thought we had planned it all just right. While there are two routes from Natchez to New Orleans, we went through Baton Rouge that time. The interstate between the two cities is fairly straight and flat and I'll never forget the sight of approaching the causeway and starting to see three full lanes of traffic coming towards us.

We were almost alone on our side.

We got into town and checked into our hotel and turned on the television. The mayor, whom I truly liked at this point, was on and telling the citizens to get out. To leave however they could but not try and ride this one out. As a part of this plan to help everyone get out of the city he informed the city that the interstate out would be in contraflow - meaning no one else would be getting into the city. All roads would be leading out.

Had we been even 30 minutes later in our schedule we would never had made it.

Still fairly clueless to the severity of the whole thing, we went looking for dinner. Person has to eat, right? We drove up and down the main roads out by the airport only to see "closed" signs and boarded up establishments.

We finally found a Chinese buffet that was going to be closing within the hour but we were welcome to grab a table in the meantime. It wasn't exactly what we had planned, but it was good.

While watching the news that night I did, finally, come to the realization that this might be bad and maybe we had better get to the airport a little early. Just in case it was raining and there were delays.

For those that don't know me, I HATE to get the airport any earlier than is absolutely necessary. Prior to September 11, 2001 I was one of those people that pulled up the airport, checked in and walked onto the plane without ever stopping. I traveled a lot with my job and I hated wasting time at the airport. Especially those 6:30 AM flights to Dallas on Monday mornings. No need to get there any earlier than 6 or 6:10. Even now, I can time it to get there about an hour before a flight, but not much.

But that Sunday morning we arrived very early. Still pitch dark outside. I don't remember what time the flight was scheduled for, but we were there in plenty of time.

Or so I thought.

Every parking space was full. We circled the short term lot, the full term lot, and the employee parking lot. We found one space in the employee section. The last one. I didn't care at this point. We had a plane to catch and I was starting to clue in that maybe the situation was worse than I gave it credit.

Once parked and inside the terminal I was stunned. I had never seen that many people in my entire life. Security lines stretched the length of the terminal - in both directions. People were huddled in front of the boards looking at departure times - trying to find a way out, to anywhere. Children clutching stuffed animals and blankets, barely awake, holding onto their parents' legs.

A little anxiety is starting to creep into my world. Didn't these people know I had a vacation to get to? That I had planned and booked my flights months ago and I wasn't pleased that they were clogging the lines.

To the airline personnel's credit, they were all calm. They kept the lines moving as best they could. They pulled people out of the security line that had flights readying to board but they were also reassuring everyone that they would get out. Planes were delayed but that was so that they could be full and so that everyone would get out of New Orleans. Planes would be leaving as long as they could.

Mmmmmmm. Maybe this whole hurricane thing was something to which I should have been paying attention.

We boarded, and left. A little late but we were airborne and vacation had begun.

I didn't think about anything else the rest of the day. We just enjoyed ourselves.

Monday morning. My cell phone rings. It's work. I got a little concerned, but it isn't unusual for me to get work calls even on vacation. Usually about nothing that is overly important. But my coworkers were keeping an eye on my mother-in-law and I was afraid that maybe something had happened at home.

Never really, honestly, thought about a hurricane traveling a couple hundred miles inland so that wasn't on my mind.

It wasn't a problem at work or home. One of my co-worker's husband works offshore and the storm had turned suddenly and the rig was in the direct path. They hadn't been able to move it. There was no communication with the rig so no one knew if they were OK or not. I'm starting to get the bigger picture here. I reminded my boss that my mother-in-law was at our house with no means of knowing what all was going on with the storm in our area so if there was anything she needed to know would someone there please make sure she knew it. He assured me they would take care of her.

A few hours later another phone call. From home this time. The power is out. Had been out for a few hours.

Katrina had hit, and hit with a viciousness.

I started trying to call friends. All circuits were busy. Cell phones and land lines were out. I could, finally, get a few text messages through. It was bad. The whole city was dark. Trees were down all over. Roads in and out were impassable. Hotels and shelters were full. Store shelves were empty. Gas stations were drained. Neither had any hope of being refilled. I had a hard time convincing my sister-in-law that her mom was safe, being watched over, and would be fine. That she would be doing more harm than good by trying to get down there. Mostly likely she wouldn't make it and, if she did, they might not be able to get back out. Brenda and Mike had offered their RV for Margaret and our Christy if needed. It was air conditioned and they were welcomed to it if necessary.

Tuesday, we got the call that our power had been restored, mostly. Margaret said that it came on roughly 24 hours after it had gone out. It had blinked a few times after that, but it was mostly on. I felt better.

Until I watched the news that night. The pictures coming out of New Orleans and the Mississippi Gulf Coast were devastating. There is no other word that really covers it. Horrific, yes. Inhumane, yes. Many adjectives come to mind, but devastating is pretty all-encompassing.

The next phone call was from JetBlue. Our flight home was canceled. New Orleans International Airport was closed - indefinitely. OK. What did they suggest as an alternative? Silence on the other end. The customer service rep started typing into her computer. Here we go, she said. We can get you to Orlando.

Orlando.

With as much politeness as I could muster I pointed out that, geographically, Orlando was on the wrong side. All my information indicated that the lower Gulf Coast was closed and the interstate was gone. There was no way we could get from Orlando to Natchez. What did they have west of the Mississippi? More silence. JetBlue, at least at that time, didn't service any airports west of the Mississippi. (Even now there are only 15 stops, and most of them in California. But there are, now, two in Texas. There weren't then.) In a very quiet voice, the young lady on the other end of the phone replied to my question of "how are we going to get home?" with "I have no idea. Good luck."

Ordinarily, I wouldn't mind being stranded in New York. Matter of fact, I might relish it under ordinary circumstances. These weren't ordinary circumstances. I spent all day Wednesday on the phone trying to reroute us to Baton Rouge, which had been hit hard but at least the airport was still operational, and trying to find a rental car. It took a while, but I did it.

We tried to enjoy the last couple of days of our trip. There was nothing we could do for anyone back home, and could barely get home if we wanted to. We'd gotten word that the offshore oil rig employees were all safe, if a little seasick, so felt like we could enjoy ourselves some.

Saturday morning came and it was time to go home. Much to my, honest, surprise the New Orleans airport still wasn't open. Now, I'd figured that flights would not be going in and out but it didn't occur to me that the airport would be closed.

Of course, the city itself was closed and people were living in the airport so my naivete' was showing.

Our rerouted flight home included a stop in Houston before making the last leg to Baton Rouge. I remember looking out the window and thinking we'd made a wrong turn and landed in Baghdad. We were surrounded on the tarmac by military cargo planes, loaded with supplies for the Coast and New Orleans. Our plane was almost completely silent. There were simply no words to describe what we were seeing and many of the passengers, like us, were trying to get home and see the damage for themselves. Some didn't know if they could get home or if they even had a home to go to. We at least knew that our family and our home were safe and still standing.

But we did still have a problem. My car. Now, that may not seem like a big problem to some of you, but it was an issue. Billy had to take his mom back to Arkansas and work. We didn't know when he'd be back. And the news was full of stories of New Orleans being looted and vandalized so you had to wonder if there would still be a car to pick up if we left it there. No one could even begin to predict when the airport would reopen. I had to have transportation and a rental car for an indefinite time period, given the supply and demand for them, was an expensive prospect.

So we discussed it. We didn't actually make a decision until we left the Baton Rouge Airport. We headed east. We were going to see if we could get my car out of there.

It's dark now. We hadn't been able to leave as early as we normally did but we had limited options. We were driving those 60 miles towards New Orleans. Same as we had the week before only this time the lanes coming towards us were empty. No cars where it had been bumper to bumper 6 days previously.

We got close to the Causeway but were met by a wall of flashing blue lights. Police cars crossed I-10 and no one was getting through. Everyone exited at LaPlace. Some people would have turned around at this point, but not us. Oh, no. We had a car to retrieve and we weren't giving up that easily.

We took old roads. We took back roads. We turned and twisted and doubled back and did all kinds of things that I can no longer remember. Suddenly, we found ourselves on I-310 headed south towards Houma. Houma had pretty much been wiped off the map so going that way was not going to get us far.

I crossed the median and turned around. Exits for the airport were in sight! We'd made it!

As Lee Corso would say, not so fast my friend!

A state trooper was sitting on the side of the road at the exit. But he wasn't blocking it so I kept going. Blue lights appeared in my rearview mirror. I stopped. The officer walked to the passenger side and Billy rolled down his window. I just sat there. Sometimes it is best to let the man do the talking.

Billy explained our situation. Officer didn't really care. The city was closed. The airport was closed. We needed to move along. I'm thinking about all the hours we'd spent getting there only to be stopped with the destination in sight. Billy kept talking to the officer. He just kept telling us bad things were. We'd seen the news. We knew. Finally, the officer relented. He looked at Billy, looked at me, then back at Billy. He said it was a bad idea and he was advising against it, but he wasn't going to stop us.

Billy thanked him and off we went.

Blackness was all we saw. Complete and utter darkness.

Billy started with the phrase I'd hear many more times before the night was over - don't stop this car for anything.

We saw the exit for the airport. Don't stop this car for anything.

We pulled closer. For the first time I thought about the electronic arms where you take the ticket and pay the cashier. Don't stop this car for anything. What would we do if they were down? Don't stop this car for anything. My heart is beating faster. Don't stop this car for anything.

Billy told me to pull up as close to the back of my car as I could when we got there, stop only long enough for him to get out and then take off. Don't stop this car for anything.

I wasn't running red lights, because there were none. There were no traffic lights, no street lights, no lights of any kind. I see the parking garage. The arm was up! I was glad we had parked in the employee lot. It was on the ground floor. I pulled up to the first row. Terrified that someone might step out from between the cars. Don't stop this car for anything. Billy had his keys in his hand. Get back to the Baton Rouge Airport as quickly as possible after he got out, he instructed. I see the car. It looks undamaged. I see no one else in the garage. Don't stop this car for anything. I pull up to my trunk. Billy bolts, hitting the remote to unlock the car door. He's in. The engine turns over. I hear it. I see the reverse lights. I pull off.

I don't need him to tell me not to stop the car. I can hear him saying it my head. My voice has joined in repeating the mantra. I get to the exit. This arm is down. I turn and circle the lot. Billy is right behind me. Close behind me. I turn and go out the entrance. I head back to the interstate. I've never seen it so dark. I'm driving quickly. The airport isn't exactly in the best part of town and I'm scared. But I'm not stopping. There's no reason to. I get on the interstate and head west. I see the police cars crossing the interstate but they're on the other side. Nothing is in our way. I'm not stopping for anything.

We cover the 60 miles back to Baton Rouge a lot more quickly than we should have. Driving with fear and adrenaline. My heart was pounding in my ears. It is now after 10 PM and we're still nervous about the Baton Rouge Airport. It doesn't do much business that time of night. The parking garage was a prime place for anything to happen. We park in the rental car lot, transfer the bags to my car with surprising efficiency and turn the keys in. The rental car counter looked at us with surprise but I think they were glad to get the car back so they could re-rent it. The line waiting for a car was long.

The journey wasn't over, though. We had completed our mission, but we had no idea if we could actually get home. Highway 61 is two lanes for a great deal of it and there are several small towns along the way. Could we get through? Was it passable?

It was after midnight when we pulled up at home. Exhausted. But home, safe and sound.

Several weeks later I had to fly to Atlanta. The trip had been booked months before and I was to fly out of New Orleans. The airport opened a couple of weeks before my flight, but you sure couldn't tell it. When Billy dropped me off he questioned as to whether or not I had actually verified the flight. The airport was deserted. Quiet. The complete opposite of a mere few weeks before.

There had been no changes so I went in. Checked in and got through security in minutes. I called Billy's cell phone to tell him I was in and at the gate. He'd barely gotten off the airport property. I pretty much had the place to myself.

As is part of my normal routine when I fly, I visited the ladies room first. I was struck by the knowledge that people had been living in there only weeks before. Living in the bathroom. Living in those gates and hallways where I was about to go sit and wait until the plane was ready to board.

It still happens to me - every time I go to the airport. I see the police blocking the interstate. I see the darkness. My heart pounds. I see the road that was our only way in. I envision the people camped out in the hallways.

Some folks will say we took foolish measures to retrieve an object. An object that could be replaced. But that night it was all we could focus on. Maybe it was the need to feel complete, or in control of a situation where we'd had none all week. Maybe it was just the urge to put New Orleans in our rear view mirror and not have to worry about it again for a long time which we couldn't have done if our car was still there.

At home, everything was normal. Puppies waiting on us to lick our faces. A happy mother-in-law, for a lot of reasons. There was laundry to do. Order to restore. And a good night's sleep was top of the list.

It was a bad storm. So bad that people still talk about it. It left lasting effects on us, the country, the city, and all her citizens.

And her name was Katrina.