THE SECRET GARDEN

I would say that I have walked with my friend, Kathy, about 3000 miles in the last few years.  Several years, we did 500+ miles and we have been walking for lots of years.  Now, when you spend that much time with someone, you get to know each other very well.  We never stop talking the entire 3 or 4 miles that we walk 4 or 5 times a week.  We've tried to calculate the hours we've spent together but can't.  It is lots of hours.  Which brings me to a story of my life that I shared with her and now will share with the world. 

I calculate the year to be circa 1950.  I would have been 10, Janice 7, Rosco 5 and Randall 3.  I don't remember the make and model of the car but it was a sedan as there was a front seat and a back seat.  Don't remember the time of year but it was warm enough that we were not bundled up in blankets or coats.    Daddy was moving our family from East Texas to West Texas for work.  Everything they owned, including our clothes (we didn't have many) was in that car.  Now, back in the day, Daddy drank.  He didn't drink all the time but when he did, he usually got good and drunk.  And he drove. And there were no seat belts in the olden days.   As we were going through San Angelo, Texas,  he was stopped by the police and they took him to jail to sober up.  What was a young mother with four kids to do waiting for him to get sober enough to be released?  Wring her hands and cry and wail, "What are we going to do?"  Not my Mother.  She made it into the most wonderful adventure by taking all four of us to see Margaret O'Brien in THE SECRET GARDEN.   It was the most magical movie and time for us.  We never went to the movies so it was a most unexpected treat.  And, as I recall, just enough time for Daddy to be sober enough to be released back to us with an admonishment for Mother to drive.  It is almost as vivid in my mind today as it was then.  We went right on to Kermit, Texas and Daddy worked there in the oilfield for awhile. 

Some folks listen to your stories and promptly forget them.  Not Kathy.  Guess what I got for Mother's Day?  A collector's copy of Margaret O'Brien and THE SECRET GARDEN! 

Movie Review of NOAH

Okay, after reading other reviews and knowing that NOAH is just a Hollywood fantasy and not a Biblical record, I said I would not see this movie.  But being a bit wishy washy, I was talked into it for the "special effects" and the "if it would persuade one person to read the Bible to check the accuracy" then it couldn't be all bad.  I was wrong except for the special effects, it is awful.  Ham pairs up with an ark stowaway, plotting to kill Noah.  There is only Noah, his wife, Shem,  his wife, Ham (no wife) Japheth (no wife).  Shem's wife is pregnant (formerly barren but a touch from Methusaleh rends her very fertile).   She gives birth on the ark.  There are giant animated rocks who help build the ark and keep others out of the ark as it begins to rain.  Those rocks are the fallen angels and they explode in death and become angels of light and go straight back to Heaven.  Noah feels that God is destroying mankind, including his family, and feels compelled to kill his twin granddaughters born on the ark but stays his hand at the last moment.  I could understand if it were Lord of the Rings or Transformers or some other such fantasy, but a movie supposedly made of the Biblical Noah turns out not to be the Biblical Noah at all.  If you are looking for another spectacular special effect fantasy movie, with no Biblical accuracy, this would be the one to see.   

Fear

Cassidy, named for Hopalong Cassidy, is our almost 10 year old beautiful long haired tuxedo cat.  Cassidy, aptly named, because when he came to us, he had been attacked by something and had puncture wounds and a broken leg.  The vet said it would never heal but he was wrong.  No one would ever know his leg was ever broken.  He runs and jumps like any other cat, without the slightest hint of a limp.   But he is what the cat book describes as a "fearful" cat.  He is petrified of everything.  If anyone visits with a dog, cat or small child, he disappears and we do not see him until the company is gone.  He is an inside cat but begs to venture outside, mostly to eat grass.  He is extremely wary of every movement and even a leaf blowing across the lawn will send him running for his life.  He does not stalk birds or squirrels because he is deathly afraid of them.  He will not touch his tongue to any type of food except his Little Friskies Seafood Sensations.  He does not play with cat toys but will nestle down in our OSU orange pom poms. 


But this post is about FEAR.  And it was brought to mind by the necessity of taking Cassidy to the vet yesterday.  That, really, is his biggest fear.  Not the vet, himself, but the process of getting there and back.  As soon as he sees the carrier, he goes into fear mode so yesterday, I thought I would wrap him in a pillow sham and carry him in that.  It did nothing to alleviate his fear and I was even a bit fearful that he might jump from my arms and run away and we would never see him again.  The movement of the car freaks him out and if a poor animal could die from sheer terror, he would.  Once out of the car, he is a tiny bit better until he hears the dogs barking or hassling and then he is just a basket case.  Once the whole vet thing is over (and he spit and growled at the vet), there's that frightening ride back home.  He fought so much, I had to let him loose in the van and then worried that he would bolt when we arrived at home and be so scared he wouldn't know where he was. Doug assured me that wouldn't happen and I threatened to never forgive him if it did.  He was so scared on the way home that he pooped in the van and hassled with a terrorized look in his eyes.  He did not bolt and I actually had to pick him up and carry him to the door.  The minute he entered the house, he ran and hid for awhile before he would associate with us again.  After awhile, he was just fine and hopefully, we won't have to see the vet for another year. 


There have been a couple of times in my life when I might have been as scared as Cassidy was yesterday.  I'm not a good flyer anytime but on a flight out of Salt Lake City, we flew out in a rainstorm and the turbulence was so bad, I thought the plane was crashing.  And it didn't happen for a just a little while but for most of the flight.  I vowed never to get on a plane again (thankfully, didn't keep that vow).  I've never been that frightened in my life and hope I never am again.  For all you wonderful Christians out there who just might ever read this, I know what you're thinking.  "Are you afraid to die?"  No, I'm not but I don't want to go in a plane crash or a tornado!  Which brings me to the that other time that I was equally as scared, April 19, 1981 when a tornado ripped through our addition and totally exploded my son's mobile home right next door to us.  He and Trudy and 4 week old John Reese (Chooch) III,  just made it out by the skin of their teeth.  But I didn't know that until they knocked at the door with newborn Chooch wrapped tightly and still sound asleep.  So, am I afraid of anything?  You bet.  Turbulent plane flights and tornadoes.  And taking Cassidy to the vet!    

Thanks!

She sings in the choir, keeping time to the beat
Makes good chili, using chicken as the meat
As a caregiver, she's one of the best
Giving her mom and dad a much needed rest.


As the snow covered  cars, during Sunday School time
She asked for our keys and one at a time.
She scraped all our windows,  clear as could be
The snow was all gone, now we could see.


So this little poem is our way of saying
Thank you, Anita, we're glad you are staying.
We appreciate you and all that we see
We're lucky to have you at BSBC!! 


Feb. 6, 2014 after big snow on Sunday 2/2/14

COLD MOUNTAIN AND THOUGHTS OF PEGGY

I've just finished watching the movie COLD MOUNTAIN for the umteenth time.  It is my all time favorite movie and worth watching for the umteenth time.  It barely edges out GONE WITH THE WIND which happened to debut in my birth year. 

I like "Cold Mountain" for many reasons, not the least of which, that it's an excellent Civil War story and I love that historical period (Ref. Gone with the Wind). 

It also reminds me of my sweet cousin, Peggy, who at this time, is courageously battling a brain tumor.  She and I read the book together years before the movie came out.  As with many books, we had many long and detailed book discussions via email.  We were both excited to learn a movie was forthcoming, wanting to compare book to movie.  Who would play Inman?  Who would play Ava and Ruby Tews?  Would it follow the storyline in the book?  We both agreed that we were not disappointed in the choices of actors nor the storyline.  In fact, it exceeded our expectations.  We both predicted that Renee Zellweger would win an academy award for her part and she did.  So, I never watch the movie without thinking of Peggy, her intelligence, her wit, her insight and how much I miss her.   

Next, the music is my kind of music.   It even contains two songs of an old timey music that I was privileged to sing, growing up.  Sacred Harp,  "Idumea" and "I'm Going Home".  Most exciting, some of the old Sacred Harp singers were invited to the Oscars where they shared the stage with Allison Kraus as she sang the Oscar nominated song, "Scarlet Tide".  One of my lifetime regrets, I wasn't there with them.  However, later had the opportunity to share the stage with Allison at Fort Worth's Bass Hall on the Great High Mountain tour of the music of both movies, "Cold Mountain" and "O Brother Where Art Thou".  It was an unforgettable time and perhaps, my fifteen minutes of fame.  I've enjoyed the sound track over and over and somehow, never tire of it. 

So, Cold Mountain, is not just a movie for me.  It's memories of a great friend/cousin, it's nostalgia of a young girl singing with her family the songs that, even now, touch me somewhere deep in my heart.  Music, God's universal language.   

March 23, 2013  (Tribute letter to Randall Cathey from his sister, Kay) 

This was a letter I wrote to Randall to be read at his graveside ceremony because I did not think I would be there.  It was written some years ago. 

Dear Randall,
In the legendary words of Bette Middler, "Did I ever tell you, you're my hero?"  You are and were.  For lots of reasons. 
You suffered a blow in life that would have ended most lives and yet you survived.  Not only did you survive butt you learned to adjust and adapt to a life of dependency for your very survival.  Many watched as you and Mother rose above the debilitationg injuries to your body and concentrated on your mind and spirit.  And you both determined to do it with as much grace and dignity as you could muster.  And that was a LOT.

You placed your life in our hands every day in some way.  When I think of you riding in the back of the van in your wheelchair or lying down on a gurney, with Mother or I driving all the way to Alabama, East Texas or whereever with such trust that we would get you safely there.  I can't imagine me in that same position and having such trust. 

I think of you lying helpless in your bed when you heard Daddy fall from a massive heart attack.  I know you were a source of great strength for Mother at that time.  You rose to the circumstances of Mother's illness and death and were such a comfort and strength to me, too.  Then came the time you felt you needed to go to the nursing home.  I could hardly bear it, although I knew it was time.  I know it took sheer determination to adjust (if one can) to handing your life over to strangers.  I will forever feel guilty that I couldn't take care of you until the day you or I died.  I beg for yours, Mother's and God's forgiveness.  You and Mother were like strong oak trees, uprooted, transported and replanted and yet you continuted to thrive.  Many times, I've see you pull yourself up and out of a dark place.  You continued to amaze me with your strength of spirit and will.  You took Mother's place as my go to prayer warrior for the really tough issues.  I always knew if I asked you to pray about something, you would. 

When you decided to quit smoking, you did it without a backward glance.  Most able bodied men could not have quit cold turkey like you did.  I bragged far and wide about this.  But it did not diminish my opinion of you when you started back  when you entered the nursing home.  You had already proved your strength of character to me over and over.  So much so, that I went to bat against the governor's executive order to allow you to continue to enjoy that small pleasure.  And we won! 

So,  you are an unlikely hero to the world; but to me, as long as I live or you live, you will be my shining example of courage land strength.  A REAL HERO.  I love you, Randall. 

IT WAS THIS WAY

IT WAS THIS WAY---
(First written February 18, 2010)

There comes a time when we have to recognize our limitations, be it from physical or mental abilities or more commonly, aging.  My colorful old Daddy once said, "By God, there are some things in this life you just can't do".  This, only in his fifties, when he and Mother had tried to learn to water ski.  Daddy had to be heaved back into the boat with a great amount of grunting, groaning and moaning.  And that was us, the ones trying to get him back in the boat!  Neither he nor Mother could ever get up on the skis although Mother tried until she cried the next day from being so sore.

I first went snow skiing in my early 40's.  For several years, I went once a year and could shush with the best of them.  For the last 10 years, I have gone with my son and family, including my great granddaughter, Kaci-Marie.  I had made it my goal to go until I could ski FREE which is at 69 years old.  The last two years, I have skied FREE.  There is a reason they allow 69 year olds to ski free.  It's because not too many wise old folks subject themselves to the high altitude, the brutal physical challenge and the sheer total exhaustion at the end of the day.  I'm not one of those wise old people because I enjoyed it so much, I could't resist the punishment.  Some say, "too soon old, too late wise".  That would be me.  So, it is with a bit of regret, disappointment (not in my abilities, but my age) that I have to hang up my ski boots.  I totally understand Brett Farve's desire to continue doing something he loves even though in the football world, he is considered too old.  In the ski world, I am considered old.  I am leaving on a high note.  I skied down the mountain several times, can still do it and still love it.