The Crab Chronicles

How to Not Freak Out

When I was young I could go from calm to completely freaked out in a nanosecond. All my friends knew this about me. I once referred to myself as a laid back person and the friends I was with fell on the ground laughing and clutching their stomachs, howling with glee.

Well, not really. They did think I was dee-lusional, though.

I read a blog today and it reminded me of the terrible day 27 years ago when my father died, and I had to drive to Augusta where my parents lived. Talk about major freakout potential. My mom and my aunts were very worried about me driving all that way, crying. Everyone mourns differently. If I hear something very sad or upsetting [like someone has died] my reaction is to burst into tears, although I usually pull myself together as quickly as I need to, now. When Dad died, though, I was in my early 30's and still easily freaked out.

I ran back to my apartment and packed, and started driving to Augusta. It's about a 2.5 hour drive and rather boring. I tried not to cry but of course that made me really cry.

I held it together on I-285, which encircles Atlanta and is rather terrifying under the best of circumstances, but then I got onto I-20 which is a much smaller road, less traffic at midday, and just lost it. Even though my dad had been sick with cancer for months the diagnosis had come only a few weeks before he died. He was only 65, which I now think of as relatively young. I cried and cried, and drove, and I felt my dad in the car with me.

Up until that time I had honestly had my doubts about the whole afterlife concept. It seemed pretty far-fetched to me. After I lost my dad, though, I could feel his presence a lot of times, and I just knew his soul was still alive. That day in the car, that drive, changed my life forever.

I heard the other day about a cousin who has passed, and it was really sad because she was just a couple of years older than me. That's mind-boggling. Whenever I think about her, though, I try to focus on the idea that she is reunited with her parents in heaven, and out of all earthly pain and suffering. I believe that to be true.

I read a book a few years ago called Dying to Be Me, by Anita Moorjani. She had cancer years ago and clinically died, but came back to tell her story and bring comfort and enlightenment to many people, all over the world. I find NDE [near death experience] stories so compelling, because 99% of them say the same thing, that on the other side there is no judgment or punishment, only healing and love and beauty.

I have friends who are very skeptical of that. I feel sorry for them.

Anyway, back to freaking out.

I am writing a new novel and I realized the other day that when I am writing about a character I like getting freaked out I always put in that the character stops and takes deep breaths, to calm down. That's what I do! It always works. Always.

I also ask God to help me become calm and centered. Faith helps a lot.

Let's say you have no faith in God and you don't want to try meditative breathing. Another way to not freak out is to think THIS TOO SHALL PASS. Everything passes. You can let things freak you out, or realize that the only thing you can really count on in life is change.

Finally, remember that freaking out accomplishes nothing. It fills your heart and mind with negativity, and that's terrible for your emotional and even physical health.

I recently read this story about a man in New Jersey who is 109 and who still lives independently, drives, and is doing well despite his age. I love this quote from him:

“I keep positive. I never think any other way when something’s wrong,” Dransfield says.

Words to live by.

A Hundred Years Ago

I March of 2007 I went to Kazakhstan to adopt my son Michael, and when I learned the adoption hearing in court would take place on April 3rd, I saw it as a good omen. April 3, 1923 is the day my maternal grandparents, Bob Hasty and Wilma Butler, were married. Exactly one hundred years ago today!

In April 1923 Papa was touring with the Philadelphia A's but Connie Mack gave him a few days off for the honeymoon, and even paid for it!
The wedding was planned quickly, as Papa was in town for an exhibition game with the Crackers, and Memaw didn't have time to shop for a traditional dress. They just got married in the Butler family living room. Below is a description of her dress, from a newspaper story.

“She was exquisitely gowned in reindeer brown flat crepe, gorgeously embroidered in gold and bronze, in fashionable Oriental designs. She wore a beautiful imported hat of French blue, with ribbon trimming of bronze, and a combination of harmoniously blended colors, and carried a shower bouquet of orchids and cream roses.”

This is what the paper said about Papa:

“Mr. Hasty is the son of Mr. and Mrs. W.B. Hasty of Smyrna, and is well-known over the state, having been prominent in athletics. Choosing baseball as his profession, Mr. Hasty has risen to the top and has for the past three years been a winning pitcher on the Philadelphia American league baseball team. He is a Shriner and his friends and admirers are legion.”

Their early marriage was tumultuous, with Papa accused of a crime he didn't commit in November of 1923. That was the inspiration for my book Return to Marietta, available on Amazon.

Above, my grandparents in 1971, about a year before Papa died. They were married almost 50 years.

#bobhastybaseball, #bobhastyphiladelphiaathletics, #wilmabutlerhasty, #bobhastymarriage

Working Women

The older I get the more I realize that there is a serious issue with what young people today know and what they should know. In these days of Google, so often nothing is learned and retained. Many folks under 30 don't know the capitol cities of their states, the name of the Vice President, what countries fought in the American Revolution, or basic science like the fact nobody can visit the sun. Watch this video and you will be horrified.

Most Generation Z's have no idea how hard women have worked, historically.They cannot envision a world without microwave ovens and dinners delivered to you at home, and going without meat because it wasn't affordable. If you say the word "feminism" to them they don't even understand what that is, because they don't live in a world where women have very limited choices. They can choose what career they want. They can get a bank account or credit card in their name without a husband or father's approval. They don't automatically make less money than their male coworkers.

 

My mother chose to stay home because she grew up with a working mom and she was often scared or lonely at home by herself. She wanted her kids to have a mother who was around most of the time.

Her staying at home was a financial sacrifice and a personal sacrifice. She was very smart, yet working women often put her down for staying at home. The implication was that she was privileged or lazy but that was far from the truth.

Like generations before her, Mom worked non-stop. She fixed 2 or 3 complete meals every day, for 4 people. She didn't give us TV dinners or takeout food. My father expected meals fixed from scratch, every day.

I asked my mother once about my great grandmother, Granny Butler, who grew up in a prosperous home with servants and who married a wealthy man. I pictured Granny as a lady of leisure. My mother gave me a withering look. "Granny always said even with servants there was a lot of work to run her household and raise twelve children."

She went on to point out some facts I had never realized. For instance, most clothes when I was a kid were cotton and had to be ironed. We didn't have a dryer until I was in elementary school so wet clothes had to be hung on a clothes line, dried, and then brought in and ironed.

We were lucky, she said. We didn't have to churn butter, or kill chickens, or can vegetables for the winter. We had running water and indoor toilets.

Buying food and preparing meals was complicated and tiresome when I was a kid. Mom had a strict food budget and it didn't include eating out. She had to buy meat, vegetables, fruit, foods for school lunches, etc. My brother didn't like to eat breakfast so she was constantly trying to find foods he would willingly eat. I was super picky and refused to eat most veggies except lettuce and green beans. Dad had high cholesterol so she had to use vegetable oil and margarine and trim the fat off of meats. She had a number of food allergies so that was another factor.

Schedules were fun. My brother was on sports teams. I was taking piano lessons and going to church activities. She belonged to organizations like AAUW and taught Sunday School for years. Before my brother learned to drive she had to be really organized to get everyone everywhere. Dad usually didn't get home until 6 and couldn't help.

Maybe once a week we would get to go to a cafeteria like S&S and eat, or we would have Krispy Kreme donuts for breakfast. All other meals were on Mom.

I made my bed every day and helped her around the house but my brother created more work. His room was always a disaster and he hated being made to take his turn doing dishes, or vacuuming.

My father grew up during the Depression and he ruled the checking account. Mom had to beg him for money to buy school clothes for me and my brother, or a new dress for herself. He saw no reason for us to have extensive wardrobes. I wore dresses homemade by my grandmother for years, or hand-me-downs from my cousins.

Dad never wanted Mom to call a plumber or handyman to do anything at our house. So she saved back a little money from her household budget to quietly pay the plumber to fix Dad's screwups. As soon as he was big enough to work a screwdriver my brother was drafted to help around the house.

I remember Mom and Dad buying furniture at yard sales that we would then refinish or paint. The desk I have my computer on was once a garage sale find and I remember refinishing it, as a little kid.

When we bought our little cabin at Douglas Lake I was 8 years old. I helped Dad with the cleaning, the painting, and putting down linoleum in the main room. There was no air conditioning in the cabin.

My parents bought me a new notebook and some pencils every September before school started. My father would have pitched a fit if he had been given a lengthy list and forced to come up with $100-$300 worth of school supplies. (I was in sticker shock the first time I had to do that, for my daughter.)

Dad liked to entertain and throughout their marriage he would announce to Mom "We're throwing a party!" -- usually giving her a few days' notice, or maybe a week if she was lucky. He often invited 10-50 people, and he didn't want to hire a caterer, so she had to prepare all the foods, on a limited budget. Sometimes he would just bring work colleagues home and she would have 30 minutes to ensure each guest had adequate and delicious food.

My mother worked VERY hard.

Mom also couldn't have a credit card in her name until the mid 1970's. Sometimes salesmen would only deal with Dad. Dad himself never told her how much money they had and he never let her write a check without his okay.

Even if she had wanted to work, babysitters would have taken most of her check because there was no other option. One time my mother did substitute teaching but the money was so bad she didn't do it for long.

Young women today have no idea how hard life was for a woman before they came along.

Mama's Apron

It kind of makes me sad that my son has never watched me put on an apron and cook. I used to watch Mom do that and I always knew she was going to make something delicious, something memorable..

Ironically, since he is a cook in a restaurant, my son wears an apron every day. He views it as part of his work uniform, of course.

My apron memories are vivid and happy. I remember hugging my mom or my memaw when they were wearing an apron. The aprons always smelled like food -- in a good way, of course. I remember being a little kid and trying to hug my mom and ending up pressing my face against her apron, the softness of the cotton against my cheek.

Apron pockets always held something good.

My mom wrote about aprons in her blog, talking about her childhood and young years [1933-53]:

"Every day outfits for women were dresses , or skirts and blouses. They either had to be washed and ironed or dry cleaned, which was expensive.  Thus aprons were important.

We had everyday aprons that covered pretty much everything -- some with bibs, some without – or there was just the skirt type which Mother favored. She was so short that bibs were in the way.  During the World War II years, when we lived on a South Carolina farm, Mother sewed feed sack aprons, some with cheery, nice prints, as she was a good seamstress. She always added a large pocket, which was helpful. [at right is a photo of a flour sack apron made by my grandmother]

From about the time I was nine or ten, I was as tall as my mom [4’11], then much taller ‘til I got to be 5’3 or 5’4. So her aprons fit me just fine.

From time to time, my dad helped her in the kitchen, so she made aprons to suit his 6ft. 4in frame. He preferred plain white aprons with bibs. I still have one of the last ones she made him.  For years, I hung it in my kitchen so I could hug it from time to time. Seemed to bring him closer.. He mostly helped her on Sundays, after church, since he needed to protect his good clothes. We usually had a big Sunday dinner, in the middle of the day, that involved heavy lifting of roasts etc. Most of the cook pots and frying pans were heavy iron, especially the Dutch oven.

We often had guests for meals, so like most women, when it was time to eat the soiled apron was removed and replaced with a “company one” that was kind of pretty, often starched and ironed."

I have never come home from church, left on my "church clothes," tied on an apron and cooked a big Sunday dinner. I need to do that sometime, to keep the tradition alive and honor the women in my family who came before me, who did that just about every Sunday of their lives.

 

Some Sundays they packed up the food and went over to Chastain Park and had a potluck Sunday dinner. Below, Memaw and some of her sisters and kinfolks at the park. Memaw is in white. [I left it big so you could see the faces] I think, based on the shape of the shadow, that my mother took that shot..

Ghosts of Christmas Past

When I was about ten years old my mother was really sick over Christmas. I think she had the flu. I was still young enough to be very excited about Christmas. Gifts were everything.

I cannot tell you a single gift I got that year, but I can tell you this: Christmas was a somber, depressing day that year. Dad tried to cook us dinner and we had cold hamburgers and canned soup. With Mom out of commission the holiday just wasn't fun. I learned a valuable lesson that year.

I learned that gifts have nothing to do with Christmas joy.

Other Christmases that stick out on my mind are ones where things were unusual or just plain bad.

The first year my brother was on active duty in the military was awful because he was in Texas and couldn't get leave to come home for Christmas. My mom was stoic about it but Dad just cried most of the day.

The first Christmas after Dad died it was just me, Mom and Bruce, and the whole holiday was "off." Dad loved Christmas, like a child. With him gone, there was just no energy there, no spark.

Of course, there were the traditional Christmas fights each year.

Every Christmas when I was a kid, I always wanted my brother's presents. He got cool stuff like Hot Wheels and I got girly stuff like clothes. There would usually be at least one meltdown before lunch.

When I was a kid we always had a real tree, and Mom and Dad would have a big fight about the cost of the tree, who was going to water it, etc.

Every year Dad would watch us decorate the tree after he had put on the lights and helped us put the decorations at the top [he was 6'0 tall]. Then he would make himself a drink and say "I believe that's the prettiest tree we've ever had!" Every year.

On Christmas Eve, Dad would always say "Let's all just open one present! Just one!" and Mom would remind him we always open presents Christmas morning. A brief argument would ensue.

My grandparents usually came over a few days before Christmas and left Christmas around noon to drive home to Atlanta so they could spend the rest of the day with Memaw's siblings.

The Christmas after 9/11 my mother gave me and my brother each an expensive chafing dish from William Sonoma, so if we ever lost power for an extended period of time, we could cook over sterno. When I told my uncle about it he said "Why didn't she just buy you a camping stove?" and I had to remind him my mother never in her life went camping and had no idea such a thing existed.

My mother also loved Christmas too, in a big way. Below, an excerpt from her memoir, Singing to the Cows:

With the exception of the World War II years, we were always in Georgia for Christmas. The Butler family (my mother's family) always spent the holiday together. We always spent the night of the 24^th with my Aunt Hazel or her family with us. Often, the Dan Butler family was in the mix too. Kids often slept on blanket or quilt pallets, on hardwood floors … and I do mean HARD wood! Sofas were a luxury.

         It always seemed to me that there were huge amounts of food. The sisters (my mother had 6 of them!) would talk and plan ahead, mostly deciding about the meat. Think they brought the sides they wanted to bring…. Veggies and salads and my mother always made cakes. There would be sweet tea and coffee, but never alcohol. At Aunt Hazel’s, kids ate at the big kitchen table and some of the men ate at the big table on the screened porch when the weather was nice.

         There was always a big tree with half a room of wrapped presents around and under it. They would be given out after the big noon meal. They drew names by family, but every family had a present for Granny Butler, usually in addition to some money.

         During those years, Uncle Dan and Aunt Estelle plus Danny, Jack, and Jeannine spent holidays and other times with us. Carol was born after or near the end of World War II. I loved that family and loved the time they spent with us. They lived in Largo, Fla. where Dan worked with Stelle’s family -- they owned orange groves. They always arrived with big bushels of wonderful, tree ripened fruit.

         In later years, the war years, we lived in South Carolina, and partly because of severe gas rationing and difficulty finding good tires, we did not travel much at all.

         Guess that’s when I learned about Santa. Don and I were sometimes left with Bobby to babysit. As soon as the folks left the house, Bobby and Don would start looking for their hidden presents -- and would find them. That year, Santa brought the boys real nice toy tractor sets which they took out and played with. By the 25^th , the toys obviously showed wear and tear. They showed me my doll once but wouldn’t let me play with her.

         One Thanksgiving when we lived in Georgia, the folks decided we would spend the day driving through the mountains, then stop at one of the hotels and have dinner. Well, we did that, but the dining room was closing. Thankfully, one of the men recognized Dad and served us the delicious leftovers! Then they got autographs and visited with the folks. Later, as we were driving home, they spotted a pretty pine tree, stopped, and cut it down. They tied it to the roof of the car, for our happy Christmas tree. Can you imagine doing that in a national park these days?!

In summary, what makes any Christmas special is not gifts, but people. Family and friends. Swapping stories. Eating a communal meal. Relaxing together. Praying together. Loving each other. That's what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown.

A Celebrity Encounter

Before anyone carried a cell phone around in their pocket, encountering a celebrity meant asking for their autograph or perhaps just chatting with them for a few minutes. My grandmother Cordelia Henderson Thompson encountered a very famous singer/actor when she was going through a very difficult time in her life in the late 1950's. Her husband, my grandfather, had developed emphysema and was an invalid for about the last ten years of life.

I was scrolling through looking for a movie to stream the other night and I saw that White Christmas was an option. One of its stars was Bing Crosby, who was a huge movie star starting in the early 1930's. He almost always sang in his movies. He sold tons of records. Even though he had pretty much quit making movies when I was a kid, and his records weren't charting any more, I watched his Christmas specials every year. I loved his smooth baritone voice. He sang easily and seemingly effortlessly but I can tell you as a trained singer myself, making it look easy is the toughest trick to pull off.

I didn't know until I was in my 20's and my mother and I were watching White Christmas on TV that Bing was the all-time favorite singer of Grandmother Cordelia.

I also never knew any details of the death of my grandfather because Dad would never talk about it. Dad was only 27 when Grandaddy died, and it haunted him.

My mother knew a great deal about it because she was there when Grandaddy passed and she had watched Cordelia struggle to nurse her husband. Mom was only married to Dad a couple of years when Cordelia died but they had become great friends and Mom talked about her often, to me. I am named for her, in spirit. My name is a shortened version of "Cordelia."

Mom said the love story between Cordelia and Thompson was extraordinary. They didn't meet until Grandaddy was 35 and Cordelia was about 31. At that time she was considered an old maid, certain to never marry, according to the standards of the day. Grandaddy had never married likely because he sent money home to support his mother after his dad died.

They married in 1922 and had my uncle Lewis in 1923 or 24. My grandfather was not an education man and he had always struggled to find work. Cordelia came from a prominent family and had attended college and was a successful teacher. Despite those differences, it was true love match.

When Thompson was hospitalized sometime in the mid 1950's Cordelia sat with him all day in the hospital. She told my mom years later that she was coming out to get into her car one day and saw two golfers walking along on the adjacent golf course, and she realized it was Bob Hope and Bing Crosby! They were friends in real life as well as co-stars in the movies. They were both golf fanatics. They saw her and they walked over and chatted with her for a few minutes. She said they were really kind and friendly. She was going through a seriously difficult time in her life -- Grandaddy would die just a couple years later -- and both those superstars took the time to chat with her. I love that story. I now think of it every time I see a mention of Bing or Bob or White Christmas, one of my all-time Christmas songs. You can sing along with the song if you click here. 

#bingcrosbyencounter, #bobhopeencounter, #atruebingcrosbyfan, #whitecristmassingalong

Mayonnaise Recipes

My mother had a very strong faith in God and she passed that along to me, thanks be to God. She also had a strong faith in the power of mayonnaise to make whatever one is eating more tasty and it's that belief that I want to explain today.

She had a great influence on her grandson. The other day my son was fixing a beautiful steak for himself, and he mixed up mayo and horseradish to form a tasty sauce for the steak. He works in a restaurant. He is fearless in the kitchen, far more adventurous than me, which I applaud.

My son loves a good fried egg sandwich with Duke's mayo.

Duke's Mayonnaise is the only type of mayo allowed in my home. It's simply the best -- not just my opinion, but in the opinion of most southerners. 

When I was eight years old and we moved to Knoxville TN my mother discovered, much to her horror, that Duke's was not sold in K-town. Much sadness and gnashing of teeth and wailing... She bought Hellman's and it was okay. Not good. Not Duke's. It was better than nothing, though, put it that way.

Duke's is so superior to most mayo that one must simply feel pity for those without access to it.

Below are some ways to use mayo [it's quicker to type out "mayo" than "Duke's" or "Hellman's"] that you might not have thought about..

 

POTATOES

Butter, salt, and sour cream are the standard potato additions, but Mom used to peel and boil potatoes and toss them with some mayo, onion powder, and garlic salt. You can also add a dollop of mayo to mashed potatoes.

There is a trend now of making potato salad without mayo. I tasted some once. Then I had to go brush my tongue to get the taste out of my mouth.

 

SAUCES

Take mayo and add real parmesan cheese and onion powder or whatever seasoning you like, and it makes a great topping for potatoes, and/or a great dipping sauce.

 

FISH

1) Baked Fish: slather mayo on your fish, then sprinkle on dill weed, and top with slices of lemon or lime and bake

2) Sauce: mix up mayo, fresh lime juice, lots of dill weed, onion powder, and stir vigorously. We also add a sprinkle of Lawrey's seasoned salt. This works great slathered on most any kind of cooked fish or used as a dipping sauce.

 

CHICKEN

Unlike my mother, grandmother, and generations of fine cooks before me, I stink at fixing fried chicken. However, I have figured out a way to fry chicken tenders that is super easy and tasty.

Take your chicken pieces and salt and pepper both sides and let them sit in a pan or on paper towels on the kitchen counter for at least 30 minutes. Put 2-4 tablespoons of mayo in a dish, and add your chicken, and let it sit in there a few minutes. Pull out eat piece and roll it in seasoned breadcrumbs. The mayo helps the breadcrumbs stick to the meat. Saute in olive oil.

If you don't have seasoned breadcrumbs you can take Ritz crackers and crush them and add in Italian seasoning, and garlic and onion powders.

 

CORNBREAD

Don't laugh. Lewis Grizzard's mama added mayo to the cornbread and it makes it more moist and delicious.

For all cornbread, hoecakes, and corn muffins, we use Lewis Grizzard's mama's recipe:

1 1/2 cups White Lily self-rising cornmeal

1 egg

1 cup buttermilk

2 heaping spoonfulls of Duke's mayonnaise

pinch salt [no sugar!]

I would put this in a pan and bake it at 350 for about 20-40 minutes, depending on the size of the pan. I would also fix this like pancakes and add syrup or honey. Yum.

left, my mom in the kitchen of our lake house in Knoxville

 

right, me and some of my Hasty cousins in the kitchen of our Leslie Drive house

 

 

 

 

 

#mayorecipes, #mayochickenandfish, #dukesmayoisthebest, #mayodippingsauces

Tips for Caretakers of Elderly People

I spent 7 years taking care of my elderly mother, and I learned a few things from that experience -- the hard way. Nobody told me much. I just had to figure things out. I never trained as a nurse or CNA. Taking care of her as she slowly declined taught me a lot -- particularly about kindness, dignity, and compassion.

So here in no particular order are some things I learned.

1) Take away the car keys sooner rather than later. You can reassure your senior they will get rides to where they need to be. It's SO important.Mom had an elderly friend who nearly killed a car full of kids because her reaction time was too slow and she stubbornly refused to stop driving. You can call an Uber for someone else, if you cannot take them where they need to go.

2) Don't try to exclude your kids from helping. Any child over 10 can help with caretaking for a senior and its a good thing, trust me. It teaches them patience and kindness. My son was a doll when it came to taking care of his granny, even when he was struggling with substance abuse issues. He adored her. They were very close. He could lift her in and out of her wheelchair when I couldn't manage. He could pick up prescriptions so I didn't have to leave her. He could just sit with her for an hour so I could have a break. He fixed her computer and Kindle countless times when her shaking hands messed up something. She called him her "knight in shining armor."

3) For years I carried around two things in my purse: a list of Mom's medications including name, dosage information, and prescribing doctor. I also carried a copy of her durable healthcare power of attorney [aka "living will"]. More than once I had to hand those to EMTs or nurses to copy. A typed page of her medical history was also helpful. When I called an ambulance for her the last time I just ran and copied everything and handed the packet of papers to the EMT. He was impressed. I couldn't go to the hospital with her because of Covid. She died four days later.

4) Most seniors have incontinence issues. My mom slept on an incontinence pad for a couple of years before she passed. Sometimes they were hard to find. A "puppy training pad" is the exact same thing and most bigger grocery stores carry them.

5) My room was upstairs and my mom's room was downstairs. Sometimes in the night she needed me. We tried lots of different ways for her to call me -- yelling, walkie talkies, bells, whistles. Finally, we got a baby monitor. It worked best, but she got up several times a night so I had to learn to sleep through that noise.

6) Eventually, food didn't taste good to her. I found that a carton of Greek yogurt was easy on her tummy and her teeth and she started eating it daily for breakfast.

7) Sometimes at night she would wake up screaming and/or crying from the pain of leg cramps. Her potassium would be depleted due to diarrhea because she had IBS. What helped was to let her drink a glass of tonic water and eat good old salty Lay's potato chips. Potatoes are a great source of potassium, better than bananas. It also helps to gently massage the place that's cramping. Those things work much quicker than taking a potassium pill, trust me. We tried both.

8) She stayed at home and seldom went out the last few years because of a host of physical issues. It was important for her to connect with friends and family, though. She didn't see her older brother for years before she died because he was in a nursing home in NC and neither one of them could travel during their last few years. We would do phone calls, though, and those really helped her. Also, calls to old friends were vital to her emotional well-being. Her hands got so bad she needed help dialing the phone. A couple of times my cousins and I were able to set up video calls, and those were a true blessing.

9) The last few years of her life, Mom was plagued with UTIs [urinary tract infections] and I had no idea that those could cause dementia-like symptoms and even hallucinations, plus general weakness. The issues lingered for a while after each UTI, and weakened her. She wore heavy pads due to incontinence and those were the problem. Women can have surgery to repair leakage and we should have urged her to do that. Hindsight.

10) After Mom died, I realized with deep regret that I didn't have but two tiny 5 minute videos of her telling stories. I should have taken more! We talked every day and she was a wonderful storyteller. I just wish I had recorded more audio and videos, just to feel like I could visit with her after her passing. I really cherish those videos now, of course. You may think there is time but don't wait, act! Trust me, when your mom or dad or grandma die, you will really regret not having more of them on video.

11) Drinking straws that bend are a godsend. Her hands were weak and shaky the last few years, and we put straws even into hot coffee.

12) Computers are a blessing. Mom loved her computer. She sent out funny emails, spent time on Facebook daily, and even learned to Google. She googled everyone she knew. Yes, as her hands got worse she would "mess up" the computer a lot, but it helped her feel connected to the world and kept her brain more agile than if she had just been staring at a TV.

I am very blessed that she liked to write blogs, and she wrote a blog for years, with my help. After she passed, I collected her best blogs into an anthology and it's available on Amazon, Singing to the Cows.

I still miss her every day.

#caretakingforasenior, #caringforaparent, #tipsforcaretakers, #elderlyissues, #learningtobeacaretaker

Naming the Next Generation

I am fascinated by sociological history, particularly by genealogy and I was Googling some of the family folks yesterday and thinking about how different the world is today, and yet not, in some ways. 

Names go through cycles, clearly.

On both sides of my family I have ancestors born in the late 19th century named "Nannie."

I have an ancestor on the Henderson side who was named Pleasant Thurmond, and his wife was named Mary Magdalen Thurmond.

My great grandfather was named Alexander Hamilton Thompson, and his wife's name was Annie Lou Lewis, on the marriage license. I found out recently she was of French descent and her name was actually Augustine Lougene Lewis. I wonder if that had any influence on the names she chose to give her children?

My grandfather Algernon was born in 1888 and he died before I was born. I was never around him or any of his siblings. If I had been, their names would have fascinated me: Roy, Chillie, Algernon, Olean, Glenn (female), Nannie Lou, Woodfin (Uncle Wood)

On my Hasty side, my grandfather Bob had siblings named normal names like Charles, Gordon, Arthur, and Frank. He also had sisters named Effie and Eulemma, known as simple "Lemma."

My grandmother Cordelia went by her middle name. Her first name was Eula. She hated it. Her sister was named Cephier Rowena (known as "Ceph"). Grandmother Cordelia had an uncle named Joshaway Beall, who was a doctor and who served in the Georgia state legislature. Cordelia had an aunt named Mary Beall Traylor who had 5 children, two of whom were named Alonza and Alpha. Alonza named one of his children Artemecia.

Celebrities nowadays like to give their kids odd names.

Nick Cannon, whose main claim to fame was once being married to Mariah Carey, has 11 living children by 6 different women. His children's names are Monroe, Moroccan, Golden, Powerful, Zion, Zillion, Zen, Legendary Love, Onyx, Rise and Beautiful Zeppelin. He had a son named "Zen" who died last year.

Alicia Keys is married to a man named Swiss Beatz, and she has two sons named Egypt and Genesis.

The Kardashian gals have named their kids some interesting ones too: North, Saint, Chicago, Psalm, Reign, True, Dream, Stormi, Wolf [which is being changed to something else, probably Lynx, or something equally boring]

One nice thing about being born to mega wealthy parents is they will likely go to school with kids who have equally bizarre names, and their security guards will prevent any bullying.

My own name, Dee, has always been a source of annoyance to me. I wanted something normal, something I could find on a keychain at Stuckeys, like Susan or Linda. I was named (in spirit) for my grandmother Cordelia. If I had a dollar for every time some has asked me "What's Dee short for?" or "What's your real name?" I would be rich.

I am a tail end Baby Boomer. In the period from 1945-1962 -- the Baby Boom years after WWII -- we were mostly given names like William, Thomas, Stephen, Karen, Michelle, Lisa, etc. -- all solid, conventional names. I never encountered a child named Powerful Queen or a boy named Psalm. If such a child had appeared in my class they would have been unmercifully teased.

In my very amateur poking around into family histories, though, I have encountered some really weird names that my ancestors thought were just fabulous. Like my Hasty cousin who was named Queen Victoria Hasty.

Here are some other Hasty gems: Lula Vada, Conna Belle, Lucy Odessa, Anice Ophelia, Arizona [who went by "Zonia"], Roney Claude, Ora Belle, Viola Kell

In Summary: Giving kids weird names has been going on for centuries and likely will continue!

left, Aunt Oline

 

right, Uncle Wood

The Great War

In England it's referred to as The Great War, but we call it World War I. Most of the generations younger than me have literally no idea what WWI was about or why it's important to study it. It had a profound impact on my life even though it ended 44 years before I was born.

Both of my grandfathers were in WWI, but only one of them actually went overseas.

My grandfather Bob Hasty was in the army for less than a year and never went overseas. (I was actually able to get a copy of his service record a year ago when I was researching my novel Return to Marietta.) He spent the entire time playing baseball on the Camp Gordon team. A scout for the Atlanta Crackers saw him and signed him, and he went on to play 5 years in the major leagues.

A few interesting facts:

Camp Gordon was located in Chamblee, Georgia, and I know exactly where it was, just a few miles from where I live today. Today it's the Peachtree DeKalb Airport, PDK.

During World War II, Naval Aviators trained at the site, according to this article.

When it was built, Camp Gordon was the largest construction project in Atlanta up to that time. According to the Georgia Historical Society: "The site’s 1,635 buildings contained barracks for 46, 000 men, as well as accommodations for over 7,000 horses and mules."

The legendary 82nd Airborne Division got its start at Camp Gordon.

Sports were very big at Camp Gordon -- they had a winning football team as well as a baseball team.

My grandfather was promoted to sergeant so he would have more time to practice.

After WWI, the camp was moved to a different location, just outside Augusta, Georgia, and is now known as Fort Gordon. My father's older brother Bobby was a civilian employee at Ft. Gordon for many years.

My other grandfather, Algernon Thompson, had been a professional soldier for years before America entered into WWI, and he had fought Pancho Villa in 1916. He came back alive -- many men who fought in World War I didn't -- and appeared unharmed but years later he died at 67 from emphysema. I have always wondered if that had begun when he was in the war because poisoned gas was used so readily in that war, and Grandaddy didn't smoke.

World War I was about alliances and borders. There were treaties in place that made it inevitable that the assassination of Franz Ferdinand had to be avenged. There was no clear and worthy enemy, like Hitler or Mussolini, or even Communism.

                                                                        According to Encyclopedia Brittanica:

Four imperial dynasties—the Habsburgs of Austria-Hungary, the Hohenzollerns of Germany, the sultanate of the Ottoman Empire, and the Romanovs of Russia—collapsed as a direct result of the war, and the map of Europe was changed forever. The United States emerged as a world power, and new technology made warfare deadlier than ever before.

One direct result was that Germany was so devastated by the war that the ensuing years of dire poverty and economic ruin paved the way for the rise of Hitler and WWII.

My dad was fascinated by all things military, for his entire life.

When Dad's brothers went off to fight in World War II, he was a little boy and he stayed home, of course. One summer, Grandaddy told Dad and his friends they should dig a trench so they could play army more realistically. He showed them where and how to dig, and encouraged their efforts. At the end of that summer. a septic tank was installed in the "trench" and the outhouse was replaced by a real working bathroom.

Grandaddy was not educated but he was very smart.

 

On this Veteran's Day let us give thanks for the men and women in our military who understand all too well that freedom has to be fought for, and the price is very dear.

 

#worldwarIfacts, #campgordon, #bobhastybaseballcareer, #tributetoveterans