The Crab Chronicles

The Business of Death

Fasten your seatbelts. It's time for a rant. I'm a second generation ranter on this one. My parents could write scathing rants on this topic too.

A student at my son's former high school died recently and when I read the article I was very sad for the family. The boy had died trying to stop his stepfather from abusing his little sister. A horrifying and tragic situation that happens often, I'm afraid. The family is poor. The article about it contained a link to a Go Fund Me page trying to raise $10,000 for the funeral.

That enraged me.

No funeral should cost that much. According to Funeral Tips the average funeral now costs from $7-10,000, which includes:

• fee for the funeral director’s services: $1,500
• cost for a casket: $2,300
• embalming: $500
• cost for using the funeral home for the actual funeral service: $500
• cost of a grave site: $1,000
• cost to dig the grave: $600
• cost of a grave liner or outer burial container: $1,000
• cost of a headstone: $1,500

I'm sorry, but I find this list offensive. The cost for the casket alone is more than I paid for my first car. And what is the end product? A dead body under the ground and a slab of stone above it. If you dug a hole and dumped the body and skipped embalming and putting it in a casket and the funeral and all the rest of it guess what? You would end up with the same result.

Why do you need a "grave liner or outer burial container"? Why do you need to "protect the earth around the casket"? Protect it from what? According to the Natural Burial Company, "These liners  prevent or forestall decomposition and keep your body from returning naturally to the Earth." There is a really morbid idea that a lot of people have that dead bodies should be embalmed so they look the same as in life and they don't rot. That's creepy and weird, in my opinion. 

What a lot of us don't like to think about is that death is a BUSINESS. Some years ago my mother went into the hospital because she had broken both shoulders. I was horrified to notice that there is a funeral home within walking distance of the hospital. How smart of the funeral home owners to locate there, next to their supply source.  There used to be a store in my community selling discount caskets. It was next door to a gun shop. I found that sort of amusing. Now, I would not laugh. Not only is death a business, it's a moneymaking business. A lot of funeral homes have been taken over by big corporations now and they always jack up prices even more when that happens, which is really despicable.

My dad was a trust banker for more than 35 years. He dealt with grieving families a lot. Wills, estates, and trust funds -- death is omnipresent in that area of banking. It used to infuriate him how funeral homes would charge outrageous amounts of money to families who were upset and grieving, and not feeling in the mood to go shopping around for cheaper alternatives.

Funeral homes take advantage of people who are grieving and it's not right.

Cremation is so much more sensible than burial, in my opinion. We cremated Dad. If you want to know more about cremation, this link will come in handy. Although it shouldn't cost much, it can cost anywhere from $1,500 to $3,000.

Whether you pay a fortune for a big funeral or simply cremate the remains, the result is the same. The person is DEAD.

Here's what some people cannot deal with, and I feel sorry for them, because it's the one immutable truth we all have to face: The body is simply a vessel. When the body dies, the soul is gone. Making the body look good and stopping it from decomposing doesn't bring the person back. What I find comforting is the knowledge that the SOUL IS FREE. The soul exists in an alternate place, whether you believe in heaven or hell or limbo or whatever.

I like the idea of being a tree after I die. A tree gives shade and is beautiful. A tree offers many benefits.

To anyone thinking about dealing with the death of someone you love: you really don't want to go into bankruptcy trying to pay ridiculous funeral costs. Explore cheaper options now. The dead don't have to pay bills. Those of us who are left do. We want to remember those who have died with fondness, not anger and frustration.

Major John McConnell Jr.

I find genealogy fascinating and although I don't really have time to do it, I am always delighted to see information about my ancestors. I found a terrific writeup on one of my ancestors, Major John McConnell Jr. on the Find A Grave website. John Jr. lived to be 86 years old and his father fought in the American Revolution. His daughter Nancy McConnell Putnam had a daughter named Nannie Putnam and she married CC Phillips. Their daughter Beulah married R.E. Butler and they had a daughter named Wilma, my grandmother. Wilma married Bob Hasty and had my mother Elva. Elva had me.

Birth:	Dec. 12, 1780 South Carolina, USA
Death:	Apr. 10, 1866
John McConnell Jr was the first child of John and Nancy Montgomery McConnell.** He was born in the Waxhaw settlement during the Revolutionary War in which his father was fighting. Only 11 days after his birth, his father was captured, imprisoned, and sentenced to be hanged. Then John Jr. contracted black smallpox and it was feared he would die. However, his mother had survived smallpox years before, and through her nursing he survived. While he was still ill with the disease, his father escaped from the sentenced hanging and from prison and took his small family to the snow covered mountains of South Carolina to escape the British. They stayed in hiding in the mountains for over a year until his father could rejoin Col. William Bratton. After the Revolutionary War, the John Sr. took his family to Georgia. finally settling in Elbert County, Georgia. It was there that John Jr met his wife, Anna Townsend. They married in Elberton in 1800 when John Jr. was 19 and Anna was 15. John and Anna's parents and other relatives had moved on to Jackson County (later Hall County), Georgia in the late 1700's and John and Anna followed in 1806. John and Anna had twelve children by 1827: Eli, James, John, Nancy, Henry, Sarah, Joseph L, William, Isaac, Samuel Milton, Joshua, and Mary Ann (called Polly). When the War of 1812 began, John Jr. joined in beginning as lieutenant and last as Major of 54 Battalion, General Militia in August 1814. After the war John Jr. began acquiring land until he owned a considerable amount. Both John Sr and Jr were known as millwrights and they built a prosperous mill on the Walnut River. When Hall County was created in 1818, John Jr was elected deputy sheriff and next elected as sheriff. He also was elected as Justice of Inferior Court. He served until moving to Cherokee County in 1832 when that area was opened to settlement soon after finding gold in the area. After the new territory was divided into Counties, John Jr was elected as a Justice of the Inferior Court. John Jr was part of the start of one of the first schools in Cherokee County, the Hickory Flat Academy, and the McConnells were founding members of the Hickory Flat Presbyterian Church as it was later known. After Anna died, John Jr. married a widow, Mrs. Frances "Fannie" Gault. The back of the large sign at the cemetery's entrance gives Major McConnell's history. Relationship to submitter: 4th Great Grandfather    Family links:   Spouse:   Anna Townsend McConnell (1785 - 1850)*    Children:   Eli McConnell (1801 - 1861)*   James McConnell (1803 - 1886)*   Nancy McConnell Putnam (1807 - 1879)*   Henry Hunt McConnell (1810 - 1892)*   Joseph McConnell (1815 - 1865)*   Isaac McConnell (1819 - 1900)*   Samuel Milton McConnell (1822 - 1896)*   Joshua McConnell (1824 - 1880)*   Mary A Roberts (1826 - 1901)*   *Calculated relationship

John McConnell was born in Scotland in 1750. He married Nancy Montgomery.

this is the Putnam home where his daughter Nancy Putnam lived  -- the photo is courtesy of Davis McCollum [my third cousin]

 

Bizarre Stuff

People who know me well know I over-use the word "bizarre" but it's a great word, very descriptive. Bizarre things happen to me lately, or I see or hear them. I saw a funny meme on Facebook the other day about the fact that we had winter last weekend - the whole season, in one weekend. In the space of three days we had torrential rain [Friday] snow [Saturday] wind and bitter cold [also Saturday] and a pleasantly sunny day [Sunday]. This week has been more normal, with lows in the 30's and highs in the 50's. That's a more typical January day here in Atlanta.

I'm really tired of bizarre ailments, which leave me feeling yucky, but not bad enough to see the doctor. Last week I was dealing with some kind of lingering stomach bug that had me feeling yucky. This week, it's 90% gone but I'm fighting off a sinus infection. Taking lots of Vitamin C. Trying not to over-exert myself. I had to change insurance and my doctor isn't on the new insurance. I don't want to change doctors no matter how low the co-pay. So I will have to pay full price for an office visit next time I go, which means I won't go unless there's a pressing need.

Bizarre noises are everywhere. On Monday our pipes started making a hideous noise every time the water was running anywhere in the house. Sounded like a movie where they show something huge, like Hoover Dam breaking apart - that groaning, metal-on-metal sound. Scared the crap out of me. The plumber came Tuesday and got it fixed, and fixed my toilet. The noise was no big thang, he explained. Thank God. Then we chatted for a while about dogs [Lola loves him] and his upcoming European vacation. Nice man.

Someone has a bizarre idea of how old Robert Redford looks. I watched the movie A Walk in the Woods the other day and enjoyed the scenes of the Appalachian Trail. Love the Smoky Mountains, which have been the backdrop to much of my life, especially when I lived in Tennessee. The story was excellent, too. The problem with the movie was the casting of Robert Redford. The man is almost 80 years old. He was playing someone 20 years younger. He doesn't look 20 years younger, despite dying his hair. Someone needs to have a little talk with Bob and tell him to start playing old men - BECAUSE HE IS AN OLD MAN!! Nick Nolte was perfectly cast and hilarious. Redford trying to deliver comedy lines was just bizarre, also - he sounded robotic. Emma Thompson, who is young enough to be his daughter, played his wife in a role far beneath her talents. Mary Steenburgen was also wasted in a tiny role.

I was outside with Lola a few days ago when something bizarre happened. It was about 9 at night and Lola was on her leash and we had just walked out the back door for her to tinkle. There is a door from the laundry room to the patio which is totally unnecessary and we never use it. It has glass panels in it. There was a broom leaning up against the door, on the inside, next to the wooden blinds on the door. The broom rattled. I heard it quite plainly. So did Lola - she whipped her head around and stared at the door, then looked at me. I thought Mother had walked by the door and just brushed the broom. When we walked back inside and I questioned Mom she said no, she had been sitting at her desk, which is about 8 feet away from the door. She had heard the rattling noise too. It was not subtle. However, we cannot figure out what caused it. It was not caused by a human. There was no vent nearby and no air had caused it - it was too strong for air to have caused it anyway. Mom suggested it might have been a rat, which horrifies me, but the pest control guy was just here not long ago and he keeps the outside rat traps bated so we have not seen rats inside in a few years.

I think perhaps it was a ghost. Probably the ghost of Memaw, who kept a very clean and well-run home. It was probably her not-so-subtle way of telling me I need to use the broom more often. I must confess that I am not the world's greatest housekeeper. The bills get paid, meals get cooked, and things rock along, but my house is never spotless. Michael tends to leave his clothes and things strewn everywhere. I don't care. If I had the money we might hire a maid now and then but we don't, not right now. Memaw, quit rattling the broom!

I see and hear ghosts all the time. Am I delusional? Am I psychic? Don't know. Don't care. As long as the ghosts leave me alone we are good. I believe the spirits of the dead are all around us and I find that comforting. Sometimes I smell my dad's aftershave and I know he's around. Sometimes Lola sees something and tracks it with her eyes, and I see nothing. Does that make her crazy or delusional? Don't think so.

below, Memaw and her sisters. Memaw is on the far right, standing, in a dark dress

Move Over, Old White Guys

I have watched the Oscars every year since 1972 and I've never seen such a brouhaha over nominations as I have seen this year. However, I think it's good that attention has been paid to the fact that Oscar nominees are almost always white, and the awards need to be far more diverse.

However, I also want to point out that the problem is far more complex than it appears on the surface. 

We live in an increasingly diverse society and I think that's a great thing. My children went to schools in suburban Atlanta that are good schools and where white kids were not in the minority, but there were many Asian, Hispanic, and African-American children, too. (By contrast, I grew up mostly in Tennessee and I went to schools that were 98% white.)

Larger cities tend to be a better place for families with members of more than one race.

My friend Cindy LaJoy has five children - three Asian and two Caucasian. Her Caucasian daughters are always assumed to be her biological children. They live in a tiny town in Colorado that has very few Asians. Cindy gets very tired of strangers asking her if her sons are exchange students or if she's chaperoning a school field trip every time they go anywhere. The lack of diversity is painfully obvious. My friend Stephanie has 13 adopted children, and one of her oldest kids, Max, is obviously Asian. They live in a small town in North Carolina and Max got bullied at school when he was small, because he's Asian. My friend Cindy Bodie has 38 adopted children, all Hispanic or part Hispanic. Some years ago she blogged about one of her daughters getting rushed to the hospital and encountering issues until Cindy got there and explained she was the mom, and instantly the "white lady" factor kicked in and the child was treated right. If they lived here in Atlanta there would be far less hassle, because we have all kinds of diverse families around here and most folks mind their own business.

My point is simply that big cities tend to be more diverse, and families with members of different races are bullied or hassled far less.

Los Angeles is a huge place, but Hollywood is basically a small town, a one-industry town. Most of the movers and shakers are white. That's not good, but it is simply reality. I think it's good that Jada Smith and Spike Lee are pointing out the obvious, that Hollywood needs to change.

What really needs to happen is that people of color need to get funding for movies, and writers need to be encouraged and helped to write stories that are more inclusive of all races. Those are ways to make the Oscars more fair. George Clooney, a very smart guy, said  "I don’t think it’s a problem of who you’re picking as much as it is: How many options are available to minorities in film, particularly in quality films?”

Right now you have an Academy membership that's almost entirely old white guys. Old white guys are probably going to nominate mostly white folks in big-budget movies. Is that fair? No.

Some years ago there was a movie starring Jack Nicholson called About Schmidt, and it got nominated for several Oscars. I HATED that movie. I thought it was terrible and I was pissed off after I had sat in the theater and watched it for two hours. However, the old white guys in the Academy loved it because it was about... AN OLD WHITE GUY.

Duh.

The OLD WHITE GUYS run Hollywood. They need to move over and give other people a chance.

Fortunately, the current president of the Academy, Cheryl Boone Isaacs, who is not an old white guy, seems to be on top of things as she recently said: "I’d like to acknowledge the wonderful work of this year’s nominees," Isaacs shared in her statement to Us Weekly. "While we celebrate their extraordinary achievements, I am both heartbroken and frustrated about the lack of inclusion. This is a difficult but important conversation, and it’s time for big changes. The Academy is taking dramatic steps to alter the makeup of our membership. In the coming days and weeks we will conduct a review of our membership recruitment in order to bring about much-needed diversity in our 2016 class and beyond."

If you want to get mathematical about it, check out the stats from the US Census Bureau. Whites make up somewhere between 62 and 77% of the population. Somewhere around 23-38% of us are not white. Hollywood should aim for the same diversity in the ranks of its movers and shakers - not just Academy members, but directors, producers, writers, etc. Then and only then will we see quality films made that really reflect America.

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Of all the movies released in 2015, there is only one that I think is clever and entertaining. I didn't even go to the theater to see movies last year, due to health issues and well, also, an almost complete lack of interest in any movie released.... if you're looking for a great movie to watch -- in the comfort of home, in your jammies, with frequent potty breaks, which is my fave way to watch movies -- watch SPY. It should win best picture. If you replaced all the OLD WHITE GUYS with CURVY LADIES OVER 40, Spy would sweep the Oscars...

 

No Snow in Atlanta

I tried very hard to ignore the news websites and TV yesterday because the weather hysteria really annoys me. All the news outlets around here were losing their minds over nothing. Yes, there was a blizzard moving up the east coast. Yes, conditions in North Carolina are treacherous. A friend of mine who live in Aiken SC [on the Georgia/SC border] said they have snow there.

However here we were dealing with.... a RAIN EVENT. It just rained all day.

Even this morning, after the big "snow" I watched a poor reporter up in the very north of the state, Dahlonega, where there was merely a dusting of snow and some ice patches. Poor guy looked like he was freezing, and there was nothing worth reporting.

My big activity yesterday wasn't getting ready for a blizzard or even a real "snow event." Nope. It was dealing with the mailbox.

A few years ago my daughter knocked over our mailbox. I set it back up but it has been wobbly ever since then and spending money on a new post and box right now, when money is tight, seemed stupid. However, yesterday around noon I walked Lola outside for a quick weewee and the poor old mailbox was totally on the ground. Not leaning. On the ground. I put Lola back in the house and stepped gingerly [avoiding the puddles] up to the mailbox. The ground around it was soupy mud. No wonder. I walked over to it and tried to prop it back up. It wouldn't stay propped. So I walked back up and got a heavy hanging basket off the front patio, and walked back out there and used the weight of it to shore up the mailbox. I figured that was done. Mailbox fixed.

A bit later I again walked Lola outside, and the mailbox was leaning over the other way, dangerously close to falling over. I put Lola back inside and went out and got ANOTHER heavy pot and put it on the other side of the mailbox.

Now, Lola HATES being in the house and me being in the front yard, no matter what the reason. She barked like a maniac the whole time I was out there.

I then researched online and resolved to get a new mailbox, and set it in concrete. There are videos on YouTube about how to set up such a mailbox.

I have had a rough week, dealing with a stomach virus of some kind, but yesterday I felt a good bit better, thank goodness. For dinner I had some pasta and spinach. I ate a normal portion. Then I felt yucko again, but not as bad as I had been feeling. Note to self: tiny portions until 100%. 

Right now there are big fat snowflakes dancing around outside in the stiff winds. High today will be 36-38 so no accumulation. Michael has to go to work. He looked at the snow with great disgust. "In Kazakhstan, when it snows it MEANS SOMETHING. Here, it melts on the ground." Yup. That's right.

Below, my yard this morning at 8:30:

note the only snow is around the base of that tree -

the back yard - note the almost non-existent snow...

Michael went out to a friend's house last night, but at my urging he was home early, before 10 p.m. That meant I didn't have to worry about him driving around on slick roads. When he got home we started watching Avengers Age of Ultron. Wow, what a confusing movie. We missed the first 15 minutes and that was a huge mistake. I have NO IDEA what was happening or why. I thought the first Avengers was a bit hard to follow, but this new one?!? HUH??

Thank goodness I didn't go see this Ultron movie in the theater. I would have been asleep through most of it..

Dear people who write these movies: try writing an actual STORY, instead of just sticking in a few exchanges of flippant or confusing dialogue between explosions...

Elva's Country Fried Steak

Years ago my mother figured out a way to make a delicious dish involving cubed beef and gravy. We call it "country fried steak" although it might better be described as "smothered steak" or simply cube steak and gravy. It's my mother's favorite food [well, besides fried scallops and prime rib, neither of which I can cook]. I try to make her country fried steak every couple of weeks.

My blogging this recipe is really an attempt to think through the process and have a historical record. I could make it in my sleep. One day, I imagine, years from now, I will think of this and want Michael to make it for me. I will also want rice or biscuits, to put the gravy on. There's really no point in making it unless there is a lot of gravy and in the south, that calls for rice or biscuits or possibly mashed potatoes.

Michael watched me make this tonight. I wanted him to watch and learn, even though he has now gone out with friends and likely won't be home for dinner. When I had finished making the gravy and poured most of it over the meat, he asked for the small amount left in the pan. He got a piece of bread and poured the gravy over the bread and ate it. (I used to love "gravy bread" as a kid. Tickled me to see him doing that.)

I will share with you another secret. I cannot make biscuits that are worth a damn. I know, I know, my Mamaw and Granny Butler and on and on back, they are all flipping around in their graves, horrified that their descendant cannot make a decent biscuit. My biscuits are either hard enough to be used as a construction material or the consistency of chewing gum. Mama TRIED to teach me how to make scrumptious biscuits but I failed miserably at it. I accept that. Pillsbury frozen biscuits ROCK - about 90% as good as what my mother could make from scratch. 

 Now, if I am feeling energetic, I will chop up an onion and maybe even some fresh mushrooms and saute them in some olive oil and/or butter, and let them get soft. Then I will take them out of the pan and put them aside. I don't always feel that energetic.

Elva's Country Fried Steak

4 pieces of cubed steak, each piece about the size of the palm of your hand

1 onion, diced

1-2 cups mushrooms, chopped

1-2 cans Campbell's beef consomme or 2-4 cups beef stock

1 cup soy sauce

1 1/2 cups all purpose flour

sherry

1-2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

onion powder

garlic powder

Lawrey's seasoned salt

salt and pepper

2-3 tablespoons olive oil

 

About an hour before you plan to cook, take the cubed steaks out of the package and salt and pepper them on both sides. Then let them sit on the kitchen counter for 30-45 minutes. Preheat the oven to either 250 [if you can let the dish cook at least 4 hours] or 275-300 [if you have 2-3 hours before dinner]. Take a large shallow bowl, like a soap bowl, and put into it the flour, and a few shakes of onion powder, garlic powder, pepper, and seasoned salt. Take a spoon and mix it up well. About 5 minutes before you're ready to cook the steak, heat up olive oil or canola oil in a large skillet, to between medium and high. Take each piece of beef and dredge it in the seasoned flour mixture. I usually use my fingers to pat the flour into the meat. Place each piece into the oil. It should fry up and be crispy, about 1-2 minutes on each side. As you finish cooking each piece, put it in a 9x13 pan. Take your onions and mushrooms and put them in between each piece of meat, or wait and add them to the gravy.

Now for the fun part: making the gravy. You should have a couple of tablespoons of oil left in your skillet. I like to also add about 2-4 pats of real butter. Then dump what's left of your flour into the skillet, and stir it around. This is your roux. Cook it on low for a minute or two. Now add in your beef consomme or stock, soy sauce, Sherry, and balsamic vinegar. Keep it on low and keep stirring. Add water and stir it in. Add in extra onion powder and garlic powder. (I like to be heavy-handed with seasonings.) You have to stand there and keep stirring a bit until the gravy looks right.

Pour the gravy over the meat, and try to cover it. Or you can add in the onions and mushrooms to the gravy and then pour the gravy over the steak.

Cover the dish tightly with tinfoil and put it in the oven. Cooking low and slow is best and really brings out the flavors. I made this recipe tonight and mine will cook for 2.5 hours at 275. You can also put it in the crock pot for 4-6 hours on low. The meat should be fork tender when it's done cooking.

Serve with biscuits or rice.

A Cure for Insomnia

Is there a cure for insomnia? Yes. A friend of mine on Facebook posted this morning to say she had not been to sleep at all last night. I can relate to that very well. When I am stressed out it's very difficult for me to sleep. However, I have learned some strategies over the years that have helped to almost eliminate insomnia.

Most people get on a rollercoaster of sleep deprivation and it's very hard to break the cycle. They don't sleep well, so they get a big cup of coffee in the morning. Soon, they are hooked. Caffeine is an addictive substance. Plus there's the comfort of the coffee ritual, the looking forward to that aroma, that taste. There's the social aspect of it, chatting at the coffee machine at work. I understand all that really well because I did the same thing, for years.

One day I decided to just stop all caffeine because I was tired of not sleeping well. I won't lie. I had a raging headache for two days. I only drank a couple of cups of coffee a day, but I also drank Diet Coke at lunch, then maybe another one at dinner. Those have caffeine too.

I am Southern, so I also love my iced tea.

I advised a lady on Facebook to not try to cut out all caffeine in one day, due to withdrawal, but to gradually cut down. If you cannot give up your caffeine, limit it to just morning. Try drinking no caffeine after noon. If that doesn't work, no caffeine after 10 a.m. Try cutting back from two cups of coffee to one, or gradually cut out caffeinated coffee and drink decaf. Figure out what works for your body.

What has finally evolved, over the years, is that I drink one cup of tea in the morning, then water the rest of the day. No sodas. No fruit juice. Nothing but water. If you hate water, try squeezing in some lemon juice, or try some infused waters.

The main reason I cut out sodas was the carbonation gave me indigestion. I cut out fruit juices because they are always full of sugar.

I keep a big 28 ounce plastic cup by me all day and just sip water every few minutes. When I go out, I always have a bottle of water in my purse. Staying hydrated is important. (I also know where to find the bathroom in every public place I ever go...)

Another important key to sleeping is to have a routine at night, and stick to it. I watch TV or a movie every night after dinner for a couple of hours. Then I help my mother get ready for bed, come upstairs, to my desk, and listen to some relaxing music while I check email and scan Facebook for a few minutes. I will sometimes read for a few minutes before bed, too.

I take 5 mcg. of Melatonin every night. I won't take more than that, but that's what I need to get the job done. I only buy it from GNC because I've learned the hard way, over the years, that cheap brands often don't have enough Melatonin and they don't work as well. They aren't regulated so they get away with substandard ingredients. GNC stuff can be ordered online if you don't have one near you. Also, RiteAid usually carries GNC products.

However, there are nights when I take the Melatonin and I still can't relax enough to sleep.

If you are constantly checking your phone or your tablet or watching TV right before bed, try going screen-free for at least 30-60 minutes beforehand. Read a book. Listen to music. Pet the dog or cat. Just power down your brain.

Also, go to sleep about the same time every night.

If possible, get outside every day. I walk my dog 2-3 times a day, for a total of about 30 minutes, no matter what the weather. I only skip it for really bad rain or snow.

What I have to do to fall into a good sleep, even after taking the Melatonin, really involves a combination of things.

My routine is the same, every night. I listen to music, brush my teeth, pee, wash my hands, and put some coconut oil on my lips at night. When I run the heat at night, I fill up and run my humidifier also, to keep my nose from drying out. It stays on all night, right by my bed. In summer, I run a box fan near my bed.

When I get in bed, all lights are off and all electronics are silent. It is DARK DARK DARK. That's important.

I start by getting really comfortable, then silently say my prayers. I also start with the same words every night: God please let me have a good day tomorrow. If it's not going to be good please be with me and help me. Please watch over, guide and protect my children, and help them make good choices. Watch over all those I love, and all who love me. [Then I pray specific things for specific people]. Sometimes I drop off to sleep right after praying. Other times, not.

I realized a while back that I do visualization, or self-hypnosis, every night. When I was young, I would plan the details of my future wedding - mentally decorating the church, designing the bridesmaid's gowns, the flowers, etc. After I turned 40 I stopped that because I figured marriage wasn't in the cards for me. So now, I mentally design my dream house. I go through and choose colors and furnishings for every room. I have mountain houses and beach houses. Usually by the second room I am asleep.

I have read articles that say mentally powering down your brain every night, the same way, and keeping to your routine, is important.

The human body can do without food or drink, but you HAVE to have good sleep. For some of us, that's just always going to be a challenge.

I love this photo of my daughter. Coco stayed in her room every night to get her to sleep, then quietly left and went downstairs to sleep with Mother. She was a wonderful companion to all of us.

The Big Move

I can tell you where I was and what I was doing 45 years ago. Why? Well, today is the anniversary of when my family moved into our new house in Knoxville in 1971. I was 8 years old. It was a HUGE big deal to me to move to another state, another house, away from family and friends. Overwhelming but exciting.

I had never lived anywhere but Augusta, and I had no frame of reference for Tennessee except The Beverly Hillbillies. (Imagine my shock the first time we drove into our quiet suburban neighborhood, utterly devoid of shacks, moonshine, or barefoot hillbillies.)

I remember some things about the move quite well, but not others. Funny what one's brain retains over the years.

We had driven up from Augusta the day before in the family car, a 1968 Chevy Impala that my uncle Bobby, who was a manager at General Motors, had personally seen assembled at the GM plant in Doraville GA. (We drove that car for more than ten years, which was a long time in those days.) Anyway, it held my parents, me, my brother, our dog George and our cat, B.C. It was a cold, rainy drive. We went by the house and left George and BC in the garage because we couldn't keep them at the hotel with us.

The only decent hotel in West Knoxville then was a Ramada Inn across from where West Town Mall was later built. There was a Howard Johnson's next door -- a favorite place to eat, as they had a bunch of flavors of ice cream. I can't remember if we had dinner there or in the hotel. Doesn't matter. I can tell you what I ate. My standard restaurant order for years was always the same: plain cheeseburger, fries, and a Coke.

Below, me and Bruce in front of the house a few months after the move. We were still trying to get grass to grow in the yard. My mom later insisted the front door be painted blue, and then we could always say to people looking for the house "It's the green house with the blue door."

I didn't know until my mother told me the story just recently that the purchase of this house, the Venice Road house, was sight unseen. My dad had gotten the job with Valley Bank in Knoxville in the fall of 1970 and he and Mother went to Knoxville to find us a house. Mom looked and looked with a real estate agent, but didn't find a single house she liked. She had a terrible cold and that could have influenced her, or perhaps the fact the agent wouldn't show her houses anywhere but Sequoyah Hills.

Dad was given his orders to report for work, and He and Mom discussed what to do. They didn't want to make another trip to Knoxville because it was hard to leave me and Bruce with the grandparents and make the 7+ hour journey -- we are talking about a time before the interstates were completed. So a builder was found and Mother had a long talk with him on the phone. He was instructed to get us a house in a new subdivision, a brand new house, and the thought was if it wasn't right it could be sold in a year or two. He was building new houses in West Knoxville, in a subdivision called Gulf Park. The poor man was freaked out because typically people take a lot of time and care in choosing wall colors, flooring, fixtures, etc. Not my mother. She knew what she wanted. 

Here is what she told him. "Paint all the walls white. In the den, put wood paneling. We want blue carpet upstairs and red carpet downstairs." The poor guy was really upset, not knowing which shades of blue or red she would want for the carpeting. She figured out the solution to that. "Go to the dime store [there's an antiquated term; she meant Woolworth's] and buy an American flag. Use the blue in the flag for the upstairs carpet and the red in the flag for the downstairs carpet." I think the kitchen floor was a fake brick vinyl which was popular at that time. Of course, the carpet had to be good quality and have the thickest pad available. Never skimp on a carpet pad, Mom told me years later. Good life lesson.

The day we moved it was cold and rainy. The yard was a sea of mud. The movers put big sheets of plastic all over the new floors but some of the red mud got tracked anyway. It was chaos.

I think that first night one of the neighbors brought supper to us. We had great neighbors in that house.

Within the first few weeks of moving we had a bunch of snow days. Bruce and I had almost never seen snow. Augusta Georgia is not known for getting snow. I think maybe I had seen a flurry one day there. Suddenly, in Knoxville, snow is everywhere. We learned to sled, and had snowball fights.

My grandparents in the basement of the Venice Road house.

After getting over the initial shock of living in Knoxville rather than Augusta, we came to appreciate that house and lived there for 7 years. We wallpapered and replaced carpet and generally made the house our own. The neighborhood was young and there were a lot of families with kids for me and Bruce to play with. The elementary and middle schools were walking distance from the house, although we usually rode the bus.

West Knoxville in the early 1970's was not so commercial as it is now. There were movie theaters, restaurants, and a skating rink, but it had the feel of a small town. I was a bit miffed that I couldn't continue to take ballet or horseback riding as I had in Augusta, but I got over it. I was thrilled there were little girls my age in the neighborhood to play with, something that wasn't true in the last house we lived at in Augusta.

On weekends we would often drive up to Pigeon Forge and eat lunch, long before Dollywood was built. It was a sleepy town, and Gatlinburg was not all that busy either. I knew Gatlinburg very well after years of visiting and walking all over town. Pigeon Forge had a great restaurant built out of an old train car, and we liked eating there. We would also go to the old mill and get stone ground cornmeal that was wonderful.

I grew accustomed to seeing the mountains everywhere, and of course I took them for granted after a while. I miss those mountains very much, and many of the wonderful people in East Tennessee. Thanks to Facebook, I still keep up with many of my childhood friends, though.

It's rather sad now to Google the old Gulf Park house because whoever lives there has painted it ugly colors and not kept the yard looking nice. In my mind, however, this is how it will always look.

"We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time."

T. S. Eliot

Dixie Cup Days

I was thinking the other day, I wish I had a Dixie cup. I had not thought of such a cup in years. I was snacking on almonds and I thought one of those little waxy cups would be the perfect holder for my healthy almonds. Instead I grabbed a paper napkin.

When I was a kid, my mother bought a plastic tube like object that held Dixie cups – small waxy cups that popped out of the dispenser one at a time. So if I wanted a drink of water or a little bit of juice but not a full glass, I grabbed a Dixie cup. That way, Mom didn’t have to wash 8,000 glasses or cups at the end of the day.

Memaw's solution to this was -- in her estimation -- far better. Each one of her grandchildren had their designated plastic Tupperware cup with their names on it in permanent ink. Lord help you if Memaw caught you drinking out of a real glass. You would find yourself on dishwashing duty and there was no dishwasher. Everything was washed by hand.

Dixie cups were always great for snacking. They held cookies, chips, peanuts, marshmallows, etc. When I had finished with them, I could mash down part of the rim and make a mod chair for Barbie. She had an entire Dixie cup dining room set.

I went on YouTube to see if I could find perhaps an old commercial for Dixie cups and found… a hip hop song called Dixie Cup. I didn’t want to play it because I assume it has something dirty in it. No thanks. I would rather listen to the old girl group called The Dixie Cups, if I’m going to go the cup music route. They had a big hit many years ago with “Iko Iko” which -- oh crap now I realize even that old song has rather disturbing lyrics for that day and time, talking about killing and setting things on fire.. [but the song has a good beat and you can dance to it]

 

 

 

After a minute I realized that in the YouTube search box I needed to use the words "commercial" and "vintage" to illustrate what I mean by convenience:

 

Watch the commercial above. This line made me chuckle: "Since we got Dixie dispensers, there's a lot less trouble around here." Yeah, Mom can happily watch her soap operas while the kids get their own cups and drink up all the sugary stuff in the house, without Mom knowing! Win win situation.

My mother was, for the 1960's, kind of a health fanatic, at least compared to some of the other moms. We sat down to a hot meal together every night, and my brother and I had to eat at least one serving of vegetables and an entire glass of milk. Mom lectured on The Four Food Groups so often I knew that one by heart. I also heard "Keep your elbows OFF the table!" [Dad's favorite admonition] and "Don't say you don't like something you've never tried. Take one bite." [Mom's most often-used phrase]

Now, a lot of veggies were canned but unlike now, finding veggies in the grocery store out of season was not always possible.

Mom also had to deal with me, the Picky Eater. I refused to eat entire categories of vegetables. When I was 17 and spent a week with my aunt and uncle on my own, Mom called my aunt Myrtle and said "Dee only eats lettuce and green beans but I want her to have a vegetable every night." I figured that out about the 4th night, because in addition to whatever she cooked, Myrt faithfully put a LARGE bowl of either lettuce or green beans next to my plate, and I had to eat it. Every night. For a week.

After that, I expanded my repertoire to include cucumbers [peeled, of course] and the occasional raw green pepper or celery stalk. I much preferred cheeseburgers or fried chicken to any vegetable, however.

There were other rules I had for eating: my food couldn't touch, I ate all of one thing at a time, and there better not be any weird looking specks in the food [such as pepper! ACK!].

I know I sound like a spoiled brat, right?!?

OTOH, I helped Mom a lot. I was learning to cook by the age of about 4, and by 5 I could make tuna salad or jello salad. I asked for an Easy Bake Oven around that time and Mom thought that was a waste of money, so she began a program called Teach Dee to Cook! I did eventually get a knockoff toy, sort of the Walmart version of Easy Bake Oven, but it made tiny weird little hamburgers cooked over a light bulb.

We went through a succession of Horrible Babysitters [another entire blog could be written about that] when I was under age 8 and we still lived in Augusta. We had a regular babysitter, Mrs. Lord, who we loved and she made us obey, BUT she wasn't always available and Mom and Dad went out a lot. One babysitter, who I think was a teenager from the neighborhood, completely ignored us, so Bruce and I got in the kitchen and cooked up treats in Dixie cups -- I think we used some chocolate chips and marshmallows and Lord knows what else. When Mom got home and saw the mess in the kitchen she was NOT amused and that teenager never came back.

By the time I was ten I could make a cake mix cake, which was dangerous. One time when I was about twelve or fourteen I spent the afternoon with my friend Joanne, and her mom had put a cake mix in the pantry. We got it out and made ourselves a cake and ate about 90% of it. I remember the stomach ache like it was yesterday. Joanne, an only child, was always good, until she got around me. I was a Bad Influence.

Bruce learned to cook about the same time. Mom was reminiscing about that the other day. He would watch her cook a lot of times when he was a teenager, munching on bread because he was always hungry, and so he learned how to season foods particularly well.

I know it's not politically correct, or environmentally correct, but I miss the convenience of the Dixie Cup. I also miss ice cream floats, fizzy tablets you dropped in water and then drank, Hawaiian punch, Bosco, Tang, and pretty much all foods made my Memaw and Papaw...

It's pleasant to look back, though.

photos of the "new house" in Knoxville, a few months after we moved. I was 8 years old.

The Uncles

Every so often I reflect on the fact that I was privileged to grow up closely able to observe so many happy and successful marriages. In my lifetime, as the divorce rate has risen, I've often talked with Mother about the six marriages I know a bit about, mainly my parents, my 4 uncles and their wives, and my grandparents.

It may sound crazy but even though I've never married I like to try and remain open to the possibility. I try not to be jaded about marriage because I've seen firsthand what a happy and successful marriage looks like.

My parents' marriage had its ups and downs but I never doubted that my parents really LIKED each other. They were best friends. They also had a solid foundation of love, of course, but I think the liking is just as important. I have often witnessed them sitting and talking to each other, for hours and hours. Mom has always said they could laugh at the same things, and that was hugely important.

above, my parents about 1980

It's worth mentioning that of all of these marriages, the wives usually didn't work outside the home, at least when the kids were small. I only mention that because I know from talking to friends that when both partners work it's just more stressful on a marriage. Both my grandmothers had to work during World War II, however, and Memaw worked for years selling Stanley home products.

My father's parents both died before I was born but my Mom and Dad often talked about Cordelia and Thompson, and the fact that they both married late in life, for that time, but it was a happy marriage. Cordelia was about 30 and Thompson about 35 when they married. When Thompson became sick with emphysema around the end of World War II, he had to stop working and Cordelia nursed him until his death in 1957. She told my mom that he had beautiful feet. She came from a prosperous farming family and had been to college. Thompson came from a poor family and never finished high school, because he had to quit school and go to work after his dad died. Yet, when Thompson died Cordelia was heartbroken. She couldn't bear to sleep in the house alone and would go out the back door in her nightgown every night, to sleep in the spare room of her next door neighbor. (below, the two of them around 1935?)

My mother's parents, "Memaw" and "Papaw" were well-known to me as a child, and I adored them. It wasn't until I grew up and they were both gone that Mother and I talked about their marriage and what made it work. They were total opposites. Memaw was a tiny [4'11] little fireball, always busy, always energetic and buzzing around. Papaw was a slow-talking giant of a man who never got in a hurry about anything. They went through some hard times together, but the marriage survived almost 50 years. Papaw told my mother once he greatly respected Memaw -- it wasn't a great affirmation of love but Papaw was very Victorian and it was impossible for him to say the word "love." When Papaw died, Memaw was heartbroken. She had a massive stroke 4 years later.

I grew up with 4 uncles. Dad had two older brothers and Mom had two older brothers. Out of the four, only my uncle Don is still alive. He is very sick and in the hospital right now, which is what made me think about this topic. He has been happily married to Jane for more than 60 years. Like Memaw and Papaw they are total opposites. Jane is energetic and buzzes around, and Don is slow talking and slow moving. However, they share a love of music and a deep faith, and they have always stayed busy with church and community activities.

All the Hasty men are slow to do everything - talk, eat, laugh. However, that doesn't mean they are not bright. I've never met a Hasty man that was not brilliant.

My uncle Bobby Hasty and his wife Myrtle were married for more than 50 years, and died on the same day in December 2008. Myrt was a tiny, energetic lady who loved children and was adored by all who knew her. Bobby was a great big guy and sorta scary to me as a little girl, but watching him and Myrtle together was a lesson in what makes a happy marriage. They complemented each other beautifully. Bobby could get ticked off sometimes [he once shot the TV] but he didn't scare Myrtle. She'd tell him right quick he needed to get with the program. They loved to travel and were devoted to their three children and grandchildren.

Above, Don's wedding. From left: Papaw, Memaw, Don, Jane, Jane's mother and brother. Below, Bobby and Myrtle with their son Robert.

The Thompson uncles were very different in some ways from the Hasty uncles - preferring a good stiff drink over a glass of iced tea, for instance. However, Lewis and Bobby Thompson both had long and happy marriages.

Lewis and Evalyn lived in Roanoke Virginia and Lewis taught Art at Hollins College for 35 years. He and Evalyn had the only marriage not of opposites, but it worked. Evalyn took care of him beautifully and was a gourmet cook. [To be fair, all my aunts were good cooks.] She knew a lot about Art, and understood the demands of his career. She created a comfortable home filled with lovely things and interesting people, and he adored her. I remember once she took a trip to see one of her sisters and was gone several weeks, and when she came home Lewis had been using the same bath towel the entire time she was gone. She asked him why he didn't just get a clean towel out of the linen closet? He replied he had no idea where clean towels were located. They had lived in the house 20+ years at that time. Lewis had a genius level IQ but like most geniuses he was a bit absent-minded.

Lewis and Evalyn, right / below, Bobby and Diddy

Bobby and Diddy [she was his second wife but they were married for 50+ years] were like the Hasty uncles - He was a big, slow-talking, easygoing guy, and Diddy was/is [still going strong at 86] the yin to his yang, a feisty little lady. They lived in North Augusta, in a house where Diddy still lives. Both were teachers. Bob loved to play golf and was a wonderful grandfather. Diddy has always been greatly involved with her grandchildren, is a fantastic gardener and flower arranger, and stays active. She still likes to do church activities and go to parties, and hosts friends every year for the Master's. I couldn't picture her without him, but after he died she soldiered on and has stayed very active and civic-minded. I think she will outlive everyone in that age group.

Just as an outsider, what strikes me about all these marriages is that the folks involved respected each other. I don't think that's a popular notion nowadays but I think it's important. That respect manifested in a lot of ways. I never heard any of my aunts and uncles or my grandparents say ugly things about their spouses. I never saw any sort of abuse. I saw a lot of laughter, and a lot of shared viewpoints and opinions. My aunts largely spoiled their husbands with love and devotion, but their husbands were, in turn, very caring and considerate of their wives. I know times weren't always rosy - we are talking about normal humans here - but they all worked things out.

I feel very fortunate and blessed to have spent a lot of time around my aunts and uncles. I know what a beautiful thing a long marriage can be. Not perfect, not always smooth sailing, but a willingness to stay the course together, despite difficulties and even heartbreaks.

It gives me hope and contentment to think on this topic. Marriages can be really beautiful. [FYI - there are few divorces among my generation, and several of my cousins have been married than 30 years now.]

Prayers go out to Uncle Don, dealing with a bleeding ulcer, and Aunt Jane. Y'all please pray too.