Lines, Lines, Everywhere a Line

Winter was winding down. The days had gradually been growing longer and the sun was warming the earth a little more each day. Lady Spring was bound to be rousing from her slumber before long, painting the Southeastern Kentucky hillsides with the fresh green of new leaves, the purple-pink blossoms of redbud, and the lovely white of dogwood!

Dave had noticed the dwindling lines of filled jars in Nancy’s canning closet being replaced with lines of empty jars. He was anxious to get this year’s garden started. The bounty of that garden would provide his family with fresh produce over the summer as well as replenish their stock of canned goods for the lean times of winter.

               

                                                       

                                                                     Young Dave Smith          

                                             

                                                

                                                             Young Nancy Middleton Smith

Dave had cleaned out the barn a couple weeks back. He had shoveled the manure from the barn into the wooden sled that the mules later pulled to the garden spot. There, he had spread the manure over the garden as a natural fertilizer.

Today was a nice day to plow. Ten-year-old Wallace helped his dad with the collars, hames, chains, the trees, and all of the rigging as they hooked up the mules, Matt and Kate, to the plow. Six-year-old Doris was helping as much as he could.

“Dad, can I do the plowing, pleeeeease?”, Wallace asked.

“Can I help too?” piped in Doris.

“Sons, I think that I need to do the turning. Wallace, you might be able to help later with the bull-tongue plow. Doris, don’t worry, you will have plenty of ways to help too. Now, let me get this plowing started before the winter comes around again and we have nothing to show for the summer.”

                                                     Partners in crime among other things; 

                                                   Donald Doris Smith and Wallace Smith

Dave patiently clucked and the mules began their way up the garden turning the dun-colored dry earth into rich brown moist mounds. He geed and hawed until the mules had completed the task and the garden spot was lined in furrowed rows.

                                                      Old Jim; one of Dave's later mules  

The next day, Dave hooked up a harrow behind the mule. The harrow looked similar to a V made by attaching two lengths of 4X4 lumber together in a V shape with about four feet left between the widest part of the legs of the V. Metal spikes extended out from the down side of the V. The harrow would be pulled by the mule over the already turned ground and the spikes would break the big clods down into smaller clods. Again, the mule pulled the harrow in a line up the garden. A handle extending from the harrow allowed Dave to turn it on its side at the end of each row so the mule could easier turn before returning in another line down the next row. In the future, the family would be able to replace the harrow with a disc, but for now, they were happy to have the harrow.

Next, the harrow would be replaced by a drag, a platform of heavy wood that Dave would stand on as the mule once again went up one line and down another. The drag served to further break up the clods of dirt so that the garden spot would be smoothed and readied to plant.

Finally, it was time to hook up the bull-tongued plow behind Matt. This plow was lighter than the turning plow and Wallace would get his chance to plow the garden. As Wallace grew up, he would be able to take over the turning plow work from his dad and Doris could work the bull-tongue. Everyone worked toward the family’s survival on the farm; each according to their age and abilities.

After the final plowing with the bull-tongue plow, the garden spot was lined with rows of furrows with flattened spaces between the furrows that the family called the balk. It was time to plant the seeds.

 
The family planted lettuce seed early in a narrow bed that had a canvas cover that could be pulled over it. This canvas protected the tender shoots as they emerged from the warming earth should an unexpected frost surprise the family. Arsh potatoes, cabbages, and onions could tolerate a bit of cold and were planted next. They were planted within the neat lines of earth that the bull tongue plow had left in its wake.

Corn could tolerate a bit of cold and so lines of corn were planted using a jab planter. A lot of the corn was planted in lines worked up along narrow flattened areas or benches notched in the hillsides. This corn would be growing nearly parallel to the steep hillside.

After around May 10th, when hopefully the threat of frost was past, the family would plant lines of green beans, tomatoes, cucumbers,… As Lady Spring made a full claim on her season, the temperatures became progressively warmer, and spring showers provided the necessary moisture for those seeds to sprout. Those sprouts pushed up through the soft earth and began to grow ever taller. Lines of beautiful green were welcome sights to Dave and Nancy who knew that the family’s very survival depended upon those green lines. Weeds and grass would grow up in the balk between the planted lines and Dave would have the mule pull the plow up the balk, turning the weeds under to smother them under the ground. The family; Dave, Nancy, and all of the children would use hoes to rid the planted rows of weeds. They could not afford to let weeds smother out their food.

At times, spring rains seemed reluctant to come. On those occasions, both Dave and Nancy would look at the withering lines of tender green plants and then off to the horizon longing to see dark clouds rolling in. When their gaze was greeted only by spring sunshine, lines would furrow their brows. The lines of empty jars in the canning closet had to be replaced with lines of canned foodstuffs. The family had little money and depended upon their garden to put food on the table. Too little rain, too much rain, a late frost could all furrow their brows with lines of worry.

Usually, the rains would come and those tender new shoots would perk up and grow and grow. The family members continued to hoe the lines of vegetables in order to keep the weeds at bay. I’m sure that those lines of beans and other vegetables must have seemed to be mighty long rows to hoe for Dave and Nancy’s young’uns. I imagine that they longed to trade the heat of the sunny garden to wade in the cool shade of the nearby creek. There were tadpoles and crawdaddies there waiting to be caught and dragonflies flit about with ethereal iridescent wings. Yes, hoeing those long lines of vegetables must have seemed a never-ending if necessary chore.

And in due time, those lines of green, were producing; beans, taters, tomatoes, cucumbers… The veggies would be harvested as they came in and the family could enjoy fresh produce from their garden picked at just the point of perfection!

While Dave and the boys were out and about performing all of the chores necessary to run their small farm, Nancy and the girls were inside preparing a delicious meal of new potatoes cooked in a big mess of green beans with a piece of salt pork in it. Juicy red tomatoes were sliced, plated, and put on the table. Cucumbers were sliced, filling the air with their refreshing scent. Green onions had been washed and placed next to the cucumbers. The iron skillet had been pulled from the oven and Nancy had turned cornbread onto a plate and sliced it into pieces. A dish that held Nancy’s homemade butter was placed next to the bread. A small bowl holding salt was placed on the table and Dave’s shaker of salt substitute was beside his plate.

Nancy went out to the porch and called, “Dinner’s ready; time to eat!”

Dave and the boys came inside, Dave washed his hands with Lava soap and the boys lined up behind him and did the same. The delicious smell of dinner was making them anxious to eat. They all crowded around the table to partake of Nancy’s fine but simple food. As they ate, Davilee began to tease Hortense about that young man that had visited their church. “I think you were making eyes at that cute John Allen, Sis.”

“Sam, you take that back, I was doing no such thing!”

“I reckon that I saw you, Sis. Didn’t you see her, Wallace?”

“Now, young’uns, don’t let your mouths stop your vittles. Pipe down and finish your dinner.” Dave admonished.

The kids finished their meal.

Over the summer, the lines of vegetables produced a bounty of fresh vegetables to eat and also to preserve for winter. The kids and Nancy spent hours harvesting the produce. Then Nancy spent even more time washing empty jars, readying them for being refilled. While she washed the jars, the kids went around the farm gathering branches and piling them beside the number three washtub that Nancy had placed outside over a fire pit.

After the jars were clean, Nancy and the girls filled the jars to near the top with green beans that had been strung, broken, and washed. Then Nancy carefully put a teaspoon of salt over the beans in each jar and fill them with boiling water that had been carried in from the well and boiled on top of the stove. Nancy ran a knife around the edge of each jar to release any air pockets and then wiped around the top with a rag before twisting on the lids. She lined up the jars in a number three washtub out in the yard, placing an old quilt carefully between the jars to keep them from bumping together and bursting. Then Nancy and the kids poured water into the tub until it was filled and the jars were covered.

Nancy used the wood gathered by the children to start a fire under the washtub. She carefully tended the fire, adding wood as needed, and noted when the water in the pan started boiling. She tended the fire for about four more hours. After that, the canned goods would be carefully placed in lines on the porch until they were cool. Then Nancy would gently tap around the rim to make sure the jar sealed.

Other produce from the garden was preserved, as well as fruit from the fruit trees that lined their orchard area, strawberries from lines of strawberry plants, and blackberries gathered from the wild blackberries growing on the hillsides. All of these foodstuffs were dried, pickled, stored in the root cellar, or made into preserves or butter, or were boiled in the washtub outside for a few hours and then lined up on the porch to cool.

After cooling, the jars were carried in by Nancy to her canning closet. There the lines of empty jars were replaced by lines of beautifully filled jars. Nancy’s canning closet seemed almost like a jewelry box filled with colorful gems; the green of beans, the red of tomatoes, the deep purple of blackberry preserves, the gold of peach butter… The shelves were lined once more with the harvests of the time of bounty, ready to sustain the family during the winter.

Those lines or rows in the garden that had seemed such long rows to hoe, had transformed Nancy’s canning closet from a closet filled with lines of empty jars into a jewelry box filled with lines of beautiful, life-giving gems. Those lines that had furrowed brows with worry during periods of uncooperative weather had been replaced by smile lines lifting up the corners of lips and crinkling the corners of eyes.

                                  Dave, Nancy, and their seven children who lived to adulthood; 

                                  Dave, Nancy, Davilee, and Dale in front; Carmen, Hortense, 

                                  Wallace, Gayle and Donald Doris in back

Silence of the Lambs for Breakfast

This is in response to the StoryWorth question; What is one of the strangest things you have ever eaten?

I think that the strangest thing that I have ever eaten was “eaten” decades ago during a visit with my brother and sister-in-law in Ohio. I confess that it was not actually eaten, but I did “try’ it. Mohammad and I had driven up to Ohio to visit with them. I was pregnant with Roxanna during this visit. Mohammad’s mother from Iran had been able to get a visa to visit with them so we would be able to see her also.
 

I had only met Mohammad’s brother’s family one time before and I think that this second visit was the first time that I was meeting his mother. I was trying my best to make a good impression.

Well, one morning, we woke up and went downstairs. My sister-in-law was preparing breakfast. Now I had had a few Persian dishes by that time and had enjoyed most. It was breakfast time and I was imagining something simple like eggs, pita bread, cheese, tea. I am not really a breakfast person but I can handle a little cheese and bread even before my appetite has awakened.

That morning, I was in for a big surprise. My sister-in-law had prepared lamb’s tongue for breakfast. I imagine that it had required some time and effort to prepare those lamb tongues and they were probably considered a delicacy. They were likely prepared as a treat for me.

So, I sat at the breakfast table with my husband, my brother-in-law’s family, my mother-in-law, and a serving dish filled with lambs’ tongues. One of those tongues ended up on my plate. Like I said before, I am not a breakfast person on my best day; having a lamb’s tongue lying on my breakfast plate did nothing to make me one. Unfortunately, I hadn't been having a pregnancy craving for lamb's tongue either.

That lamb’s tongue looked exactly like what it was. I looked at it and imagined a little lamb bleating baaaaaaaa. As it baaaaed, a man reached into its little mouth, pulled out its tongue and placed it right into that serving dish! Of course, the tongue on my plate was not bloody or anything, but I swear, just a moment before it was on my plate, it had been in a, now mute, baaaaing lamb. I really became a “not a breakfast person” that day.

So, I sat there at the table trying my best to summon up the courage to try lamb’s tongue. I knew that my sister-in-law had gone to some trouble to make it. I knew that returning the lamb’s tongue to the lamb or even the serving bowl from which it came was not an option. I extracted a small piece of meat from the lamb’s tongue and put it into my mouth.

Now, I do not recall how that lamb’s tongue tasted at all. I think that it must have not tasted bad at all because I do not recall a vile taste. All I recall is seeing a little baaing lamb in my mind. As that little lamb baaed, its tongue was ripped out and thrown in a stockpot; and I could not eat another bite.

Thankfully, my in-laws must not have been too insulted as they have not disowned me. I am even more thankful they have never treated me to a breakfast of lamb’s tongue again!

When Once Is Not Enough

This is in response to the StoryWorth question: What are some of your family traditions?

My family has had a tradition for the last few years of having Thanksgiving with us at our house. I usually make turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, gravy, hash brown casserole, green beans, some kind of broccoli, rolls, cornbread, chocolate torte, pumpkin pies. Roxanna makes the cranberry sauce; we all like her cranberry sauce. She usually makes something else while she is home or helps me. Alex usually makes macaroni and cheese and helps me. Mom and Dad usually bring ham and fried corn. They have the best fried corn!

For the last several years, my brother-in-law Reza, and his family; Fariba, Keeyon and Neeka have been able to travel from Ohio to be with us. When niece Sahar was able to come to the states, she joined us. Now we had been able to add niece Mahdieh and her husband Reza.

My niece Sydney and her then boyfriend, now husband Casey, have come for the last several years too.

Cameron has two friends, Will and Adam, that he has known for years and they will often come.

When it is almost time to eat, the kitchen is busy with folks pitching in and helping out. I will mash the potatoes, one of the kids will stir the gravy, and Mohammad and Cammy usually carve the turkey and ham. We will put the food on the island. Then, we say grace. On Thanksgiving, we can be extra thankful for being able to be with a houseful of family and friends! This year, we will have family coming from California, New York, Ohio, and of course, Tennessee.


                                      



Last year, the girls; Roxanna, Alex, Sydney, and I got together before Christmas and made an ornament for our Christmas trees. We made a gnome ornament and then we watched It’s a Wonderful Life, my favorite movie in the world!


                                                     

                                                               Sydney with her gnome.




                                             
                                                                       Gnome hangout!



I was hoping that we could begin a tradition of making a Christmas ornament every year with Jooniebug joining in as she is able to. I am not sure if schedules will allow us to get together to make an ornament this year but there is always next year! It may be a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-britches tradition that we do as we are able! I hope that we are often able!

Now, Christmas Eve is usually our family get-together for Christmas so our Christmas Eve tradition is our main Christmas tradition. Often, Roxanna, Jeremy, and Jooniebug will be there. Of course, sometimes they will have Christmas with Jeremy’s family so we have to share them. Alex, Cammy, Mom, Dad, Sydney, and Casey will usually be there.

On Christmas Eve, we have a meal consisting mainly of finger foods. We have sandwich fixings, seven layer bean dip with tortilla chips, potato chips and dip, a veggie tray, and a cheeseball and crackers. Mom will often bring her delicious potato salad to have on the side. The cheeseball is an adaptation of a cheese dip that my cousin Kookie used to make. Whenever I make it, I have the pleasure of remembering my dear cousin.

We give thanks, especially for the gift of Jesus, the reason for the season. We enjoy our meal with Christmas music playing in the background and then we gather around the tree.


                                           



We have a “Santa” and a Santa’s helper who take on the responsibility of passing out the gifts. My son Cammy has been Santa on occasion and last year, he had a prefect helper in Jooniebug. So gifts are passed out and opened. Thanks are given and family is enjoyed.


                                                     

                                                     
                                Jooniebug has cast her elf hat aside and Cam is on his own!



After our celebration winds down, our family members return to their own homes. When Roxanna’s family can spend Christmas night with us, Santa knows to bring Jooniebug’s gifts to Grannyma and Baba’s house. Jooniebug leaves treats on the hearth and goes to bed. Of course, she wakes up bright and early to see if Santa has visited. The treats will be gone, replaced by a full stocking and presents for Jooniebug.

Now, we have another celebration for New Years, but the New Year that we traditionally celebrate is the Persian New Year or Norooz. The Persian New Year is the first day of spring. It makes so much more sense to me to celebrate a new year when Lady Spring is shaking off the dormancy of winter to begin a year with the emergence of beautiful signs of life than during the cold and drear of January.

So for Norooz, we set up a Norooz or Haft-seen table. Haft is Persian for the number seven, and seen is the 15th letter in the Persian alphabet or like our “S”. The table is supposed to have at least seven items that begin with the letter “S”.


                                          
                              We are not good with fish so we have a fish bowl with fish picture!

I have written a Norooz wish that explains my interpretation of the reason behind the items chosen.

A Haft-seen Wish For Norooz

May you look into the mirror and reflect upon the person you see, not just on the surface but deep into your heart, your soul. With this reflection, note the aspects that are kind and good, and continue those. Examine those aspects that could use improvement and then notice the eggs. Think about how they represent new life. Remember that each new day is a new beginning. Try to make the improvements that you need to make, and leave the shell of your old life behind, save for the lessons it has taught you.

May your life be filled with beauty like you see in the flowers, but remember that all beauty may not be as obvious as the glorious blossoms of the hyacinth. Oft times beauty is more elusive and must be sought out. Be willing to seek it out, it will be there. Notice the green of the growing sabzi. God must love green as He put so very much of it into the world. Think about how those green shoots were not so long ago seeds. They were only seeds, but those seeds held the potential, under the right circumstances, to become the beautiful green that you see. May you be like those seeds yourself. May you nurture the potential within yourself to grow and to change into an even better person each and every day.

As I understand, the senjed has some medicinal properties. Let it be a reminder, that God provides for our needs, even blessing us with medicines for our health. Note the coins that would seem to represent prosperity, but realize that all prosperity does not come in the form of money. A person may have all of the money in the world and remain poor, without health, love, happiness……. Too often we take our sweetest treasures for granted, just remember to be grateful for them.

Vinegar, yes learn even from the vinegar. It has a mouth-puckering astringent taste. If it gets into a wound, it causes a painful burning, and yet it can be used as an antiseptic and can be used to preserve food. Let it encourage you to look deeper, to search for the value that is surely there below the surface if you only look.

Let the apple remind you of all of the fruits, all of the blessings God has given you. Let the simple apple help you to see the beauty in diversity. Apples come in many colors; red, gold, green… Some of them are sweet, some sour, some crisp, some soft. Some are good for eating as they are. Others are good for making juice. Some make delicious pies and others make good applesauce. They have differences, but those differences are all good and useful. Use this to help you to embrace the diversity present among God’s children. Let the sweets remind you of those sweet moments in life that bring joy to your heart, and be thankful. And the sumac, let it teach you that sour has its place in life as does the sweet. The sour and the bitter help us to appreciate the sweet that much more.

May you be like the garlic, adding savor and interest to the lives of those around you, and may they do likewise for you. May you learn a lesson from even the fish. The fish swims in his small bowl. I do not know if fish are capable of feelings, but doesn’t he seem content. He has been given a bowl of water and he is given food. He has the necessities and seems to be content with this. May you, like the fish, experience a sense of contentment in your life.

May the samovar remind you of the pleasure of holding that warm cup of tea in your hands on a cold day. May it remind you of the warmth and comradery that comes with sharing a cup of tea with friends. And the Quran, may the Quran remind you that you need the guidance of God. May it remind you to seek out this guidance in the way that suits you best.

May life be kind to you and may each new year be even better than the one before.



There is a traditional Norooz meal also. The meal includes some type of mahi or fish, and sabzi polo. Sabzi polo is rice with a blend of green herbs including; parsley, cilantro, dill, and chives. We usually add lima beans or baghali in the mix to make baghali sabzi polo. We serve a yogurt with dill, mint, and ground dried shallots in it with the mahi and sabzi polo. This is the Persian version of our traditional Appalachian New Year’s meal of black-eyed peas; greens, cabbage or sauerkraut , and some type of pork.
 

So, this “story” gives some of our family’s traditions. I hope that we can continue them for many years and perhaps even add a few nice traditions to the list. I hope that they will be continued by future generations and perhaps when they do, the past generations who had those same traditions might be remembered.

Let's Call It a Wrap!

 

This is in response to the StoryWorth question: Did you have a job while you were in high school?

I remember for certain that one of my first jobs was while I was in high school. My friend Norma West worked at Dairy Queen in Shelbyville one or two afternoons a week. Wartrace did not have much of a job market, at least back in the ‘70s, early ‘80s. I guess that Norma must have mentioned that DQ was needing help. The pay wasn’t good but supper was free. The thought of a “free” hot fudge sundae or even a chocolate-dipped cone for dessert was like a carrot held in front of a horse…or maybe a mule, in my case! I applied and got the job.

Now back then, the DQ employees wore a little red, two-sided apron that was open on the sides. You slipped your neck through the center and the back fell over your back and the front fell over your chest and it snapped together at the side. The manager at Dairy Queen said that we could each get one extra apron at no cost if we wanted one. So I told them to go ahead and order one more for me.

Well, when I went in to pick up my paycheck, and my new apron, I saw that the cost of the apron had been deducted from my paycheck. I only made about $1.60 an hour so I doubt that there was much paycheck left. I told the manager that the price of the apron had been deducted from my check and it was not supposed to be but she said that I had to pay for it. I put the apron on the counter and told her that I would not be needing the apron. I expected reimbursement and I would not be returning to work.

 

 

So, my job ended because of a kind of “wrap” but I learned something from this job. I discovered that employees cannot always believe everything that they are told by their employers. So, that was my first job experience and I learned a valuable lesson as well as getting the occasional free sundae!

Now, the next two jobs, I can’t really recall if they were while I was in high school or college so I will tell you about them just in case.

My next job was a summer job at Potts Farm Processing. It was in Wartrace so it wasn’t far from home. The Potts family ran a little meat processing business. Local farmers would bring steers, hogs, sometimes their goats, to be slaughtered and processed.

There was a concrete room with a drain where the animal was slaughtered and butchered. Fortunately, I didn’t have anything to do with that part of the processing. Although looking back, it would be good to know how to cut up a beef or hog into its various cuts. As it is, I can’t even cut up a chicken without making it nearly unrecognizable.

So after the animal was butchered and processed, the cuts were brought up front to me. I would put the various cuts onto trays and wrap them on the film wrapping machine and label them before they were put into the cooler. I rather enjoyed this job. I like the Potts family and the folks that I worked with, and that made it a nice place to work.

My third job that could have been in high school but more likely during college was a summer job at Empire Pencil Company in Shelbyville. Shelbyville had several pencil factories and back in the day was known as “Pencil” City. I worked during the 4:00-12:00ish shift in the evenings. This was the same shift that Dad worked at Eaton Corporation. Eaton and Empire weren’t that far apart so Dad and I carpooled to work. I drove him to Eaton and then went on to my job at Empire. I’d pick him up after our shifts.

I worked on a line that packaged the pencils onto their cardboard tray and then wrapped the whole in cellophane. Sometimes my little group would work on a line that put erasers or sharpeners into blister packs. Now, this was a summer job and of course, the factory was not air-conditioned. It did have huge industrial fans directed at us as we worked on the line and those fans sure felt good!

It was there at Empire that I was introduced to the idea of “productivity” bonuses. If your line was running really smoothly, you just might meet the productivity assigned to that task. Often that productivity level seemed a bit out of reach even without any loafing. If you met that productivity level, your team would get a bonus. I remember that sometimes we would be running really close to the productivity level assigned and we would all work like we were putting out a fire. A few times, we actually made it!

Working at Empire taught me some things too. I learned that jobs often use carrots to tempt their employees. The carrot at Dairy Queen had been a free sundae at supper; at Empire, it was a little extra cash. Even driving to and from work taught me something. When I hit a pothole while driving, I learned that it never gets old for Dad to say, “I noticed that you missed one a ways back; do you wanna go back for it?”

I went on after finishing MTSU to go to the Physical Therapy program at UT Center for the Health Sciences. While there, we learned how to care for wounds and dress them. While learning this in PT school, I thought about how my life had kind of come full circle. I had wrapped meat, gone on to wrapping pencils, and “now” I was back to wrapping “meat” (no disrespect meant). Maybe I was a mummy maker in a former life!     

Life's Lotto

 This was written in response to the StoryWorth question: Have you ever won anything?

 

First, I want to say that I see two main ways of winning something. The first way is winning something by chance; kind of outside any effort made on my part, aside from maybe throwing my name in the hat. The other type of winning something is winning through some real effort that I have exerted to win.

I can recall a couple of times where I won something by chance. Both times I won something from work and both times I did not jump up and down for joy. Once, I won a pair of sweatbands to put on my wrists to wear during exercise. I am not even sure how they are used as I don’t usually have sweat dripping down my arms onto my hands when I exercise. I tend to have sweat dripping down my face, my back, my bosom, my belly,  but I don’t recall that much sweat on my arms aside from my armpits. I suppose that wrist sweatbands are useful to reach up with your wrist to wipe your brow but wrist sweatbands make me think more of a person in blazingly white tennies wearing a cute tennis outfit with a tennis racket in hand. I am more of a pull my shirttail up to wipe my brow even chancing to expose my bra in the process kind of gal.

The other thing that I won from work was a poinsettia. Now, poinsettias are not one of my favorite flowers at all. They are okay at Christmas but I am happy for them to fade away after the holidays. That is probably what my poinsettia did; it likely faded away soon after making it home. So those are two examples of me winning by chance, and unfortunately, I wasn’t too grateful for them. I was afraid that my good luck quota had been diminished by winning things that I didn’t really want.  

Now one time when I was in high school, our science club had a turkey shoot as a fundraiser for a trip to Oak Ridge. I don’t imagine that today, a science class would be able to have a turkey shoot on school grounds but back then, school-sponsored turkey shoots were not uncommon.

So, pieces of paper with a big X drawn on them were printed off and strung up on a line. Participants stood behind a line and shot toward the target with a shotgun. The one where a piece of shot had gotten closest to the center of the X was called the winner and won a turkey.

I had not planned on participating but sometimes a person would pay to shoot and then get someone else to shoot for them. Someone paid and then asked me to shoot. I am not sure why but perhaps they thought that the kick from the shotgun would kick me on my butt. Now, I had not really shot a shotgun many times at all, but I had shot one a time or two. I knew that a shotgun kicked and I knew that you had to hold the stock snug against your shoulder or you might experience a harder kick. So I shot the shotgun. Not only did I stay on my feet, but I won the turkey! Now that was a sweet win.

Another reeeeeeeally sweet win that resulted, at least in part, from my efforts, came in Junior High. I was on the basketball team and we had a game against Shelbyville. Shelbyville was kind of an arch-rival for Cascade. They were the largest school in our county and I don’t think that we had beaten them in recent history. They were like a Goliath to our David.

Well, it was the night of the home game playing the Shelbyville Golden Eaglettes. That night, David picked up a stone and we beat old Goliath!!!!!! Stanley Cup winners, Super Bowl winners, NCAA champions had nothing on our school’s Junior Varsity girls’ basketball team that night! We were beyond ecstatic. Folks miles away in Shelbyville likely heard our roar that night!

Winning the game had certainly been wonderful but the most wonderful thing was how proud our coach was. The next day when we went into the gym for basketball practice, Coach Skelton had balloons taped to the walls of the gym with posters that he had made taped everywhere. I still remember a couple of the posters; “Defense, defense is our line. We hold below 29!”, “Defense, defense are these three; great defense provided by Grubbs, Smith, and Lee!” I still remember the glow of the win but even more, I remember the glow of making our coach proud! So that is an example of where my own effort was partially responsible for winning.

Now, this last example of winning was not a win for me. In fact, it wasn’t really a win at all but it was special. It was back in 2003. We were looking for a new vehicle. Our van was on its last leg. The AC was history and it was getting unreliable. We decided to look at Toyota Siennas. We were all at the lot looking at all of the cars trying to decide what was the best that we could afford. Roxanna saw a little silver Corolla that she fell in love with.

So we went home to study if we could afford to get what we wanted. Mohammad said that he really wanted to be able to get the little Corolla for Roxanna. Her 17^th birthday was coming up and her birthday was on the 17^th. That made this birthday very special to my husband and he really wanted to be able to get that car for her. We did some more studying and figured that if we were careful, we would be able to manage it.

So, we decided to do it but before we went back to get it, right before Roxanna’s birthday, the doorbell rings. I look out the door and see the Toyota salesman on the porch. I open the door and he has an advertisement placard with people jumping in the air with excitement due to owning a Toyota. It had an easel back and balloons attached. He told us that he was there to inform us that our names had been placed in a drawing the day we had visited the dealership and Roxanna’s name had been drawn as the winner of a new car. The prize was a little silver Corolla just like the one she had wanted. Roxanna was so excited. She looked at the car and looked at me and said, “Momma, it is just like the one that I loved!”

 

Of course, Roxanna had not really won the car, and I knew that we were going to buy it for her but by the time the salesman left, he had almost convinced me that she had won the car. You see, Mohammad had arranged this little surprise without even telling me. I imagine that he knew that I am not an actress and would have been so excited myself that I would have given the whole thing away. So, that was a fun time when my daughter “won” a car that she hadn’t really won. My husband loves surprises like that. Of course, most of his surprises are not that whopping grand!

So, this little story tells about some of my wins in life.  Now, I consider my biggest wins to have been totally outside of any effort that I exerted, or even could exert. When it comes to my family, I am a winner. I have the most wonderful parents and other family members; and I have been blessed with some absolutely wonderful grandparents, great-grandparents, great-aunts, great-uncles… When it comes to family, God made me a winner!

 

 

I am also a winner because of the place I was born. I was born in a country with many freedoms. I could have been born in a country without freedoms, an authoritarian country where fear of torture or death for non-compliance was the rule and not the exception. I am pretty certain that I would have been toast!

I am a winner because God allowed me to be born in the United States of America. Now the USA is not perfect, but as of yet, the people have the power to try to make it more perfect. I can pray that we avail ourselves of that right and make it so.

In conclusion, my biggest wins have been gifts from God. 

Sign, Sign, Everywhere a Sign

This is in response to the StoryWorth question: What is one of the strangest things that has ever happened to you?

I remember when I was eight, my heart was broken when my great-grandmother, everyone called her Granny, died. She had been a sweet and loving presence in my daily life up until that point.

                                                 
                                                          Granny and my brother David.

When she died, my tender heart broke with the abandon that only a child’s heart can break. I don’t mean that the hearts of adults cannot break but emotions can almost consume a child. During a joyous moment, a child can get lost in the joy and unabashedly embrace it. Granny’s death so consumed me in its sorrow. I was like the phoenix being consumed up in the flames of my grief.
Sometime soon after her death, I recall looking up at the ceiling and seeing Granny. I didn’t see a spirit or anything like that. Rather it was as if I were looking at a portrait-type head and shoulders photograph of her. She didn’t move or speak, it was just like I was looking briefly at a photo of her and she was not alone. Two other ladies flanked her and I did not know who these ladies were. I just know that Granny looked happy with them.
I told Mom that I saw Granny on our ceiling with two other ladies that I didn’t know. Mom asked me if they were tall or short. I could not really say as I could only see their head and shoulders but they did look taller than Granny. When I was eight, Granny was even tall to me. I think that Mom thought that the two ladies on either side of Granny could have been Rachel, my mom’s mother, and Esther, another of Granny’s daughters who had passed away before her.


                                                           

                                                 Esther in front and Rachel in the middle back.

When I was eight, I don’t imagine that I had ever heard much of Rachel or Esther unless they were mentioned in the conversations of the adults around me. Even if my child’s ears had heard of them, I probably did not pay attention to the names of folks that I did not personally know. I doubt that even if I had remembered them mentioned that I would have been able to connect them to Granny. I don’t recall having seen photos of them back then. Genealogy would become an interest to me many years in the future.
Today, I cannot really say that I recall what the other two ladies I saw in my ceiling photo looked like but I do believe that they were probably Rachel and Esther. I knew who Granny was for certain. I do know that over the years, I have never come upon a portrait of Rachel, Granny, and Esther together amongst the thousands of photos I have studied so I don’t believe that a photo that I had seen in the past had been remembered for my ceiling portrait.
I think that my ceiling picture was a gift from God. I got to see my Granny looking down upon me and Mom may have gotten comfort that we had a sign that Granny was with Rachel and Esther in Heaven. Of course, Mom already knew that, but that ceiling photo perhaps served as a comforting affirmation.
I have never had any other “vision”, I suppose that I could call it that, past or present but I have “witnessed” what I see as signs.
I recall when my Uncle Johnnie died, Uncle Olen called me in the wee hours of the morning to tell me. I told him that I did not want to tell Mom over the phone, so I would wait until I knew they were awake and I would drive to their home to tell them.
Now, I do not live in the country. My neighborhood has some wooded commons areas but we are by no means in the country. A very busy road is a few hundred feet down the road from my house and Interstate 24 is about 3.5 miles from my house to the right and Interstate 65 is about the same distance to the left. Still, we do see the extremely rare deer or wild turkey fairly close by.
The morning I was going to Murfreesboro to tell Mom that her baby brother had died, I had just backed out of my drive and started down the road when I saw a wild turkey with an ungainly head bobbing strut hurriedly cross the road. I swear, it reminded me so much of Uncle Johnnie, I had to laugh in spite of my tears. Uncle Johnnie had a big round belly and I could just imagine if he was rushing to cross the street that he would look much like that turkey with its breast stuck out as it bobbed across! I believe that God was sending me a sign that Uncle Johnnie had crossed over into Heaven just as that turkey had crossed that road. It turned my tears into a smile.


                                                       
                                                                           

                                                                       Uncle Johnnie.


Another sign came to me in the form of a dream. It was just after my brother David had died. David and I had not had a close relationship. He really seemed to isolate himself from most of our family. Even for family celebrations at Mom and Dad’s house, he would usually not sit with the rest of us. He would take his food into the den and watch TV. He hadn’t been to any real family gatherings in years. He did come to my house for Dad’s 80th birthday celebration but that was the exception rather than the rule. So David and I were not close.
At his funeral, several of his friends spoke and others shared memories in the form of notes. The David they were describing seemed like a totally different person from the David his family knew. This bothered me as I would have loved to have known that David. I wondered what I could have done differently to have changed our relationship so I had some regret.
Now, I know that everyone dreams but I rarely feel like I have dreamed, and actually recalling my dreams is even rarer. A few nights after David’s funeral, I had a dream and I actually remembered that dream. I dreamed that I was sitting in the den at Mom and Dad’s house. I was sitting in the recliner that David usually sat in. David came into the room and knelt on the floor in front of my chair as I sat there.
David had experienced back pain for several years and he even moaned and groaned as he knelt down in front of me. He looked up at me and said “It’s okay, April. It’s okay.” That was the dream, just a few words uttered to me by my brother; but somehow, it felt like a burden had been lifted from my spirit. I consider that dream as a gift from God.


                                         
 

                                                David and I at a joint birthday dinner.


Another sign was not witnessed by me first-hand but it was “witnessed” by me real-time second hand. It happened in July of 2019.
A few weeks prior to that, I had noticed a fairly close DNA match on Ancestry. She was a second cousin match on my mother’s side. I contacted her and found out that she grew up not knowing the identity of her father. We were able to determine that her father was my cousin who had been more like an uncle to me. He had passed away but he had two other daughters and I was able to approach them for my new cousin. When I called his oldest daughter, I told her that I had something kind of big to tell her and asked if she was able to talk to me for a few minutes as I explained the situation. She listened and after a while, she laughed and said, “Thanks, Aunt Kookie for being with me while I hear this big news.” Then she explained to me that she was sitting outside and a beautiful butterfly had landed on her just as I was telling her about her sister. My cousin Kookie had passed away several years ago and she loved butterflies. The butterfly seemed like a sign to my cousin from her Aunt Kookie.


                                        
           

                                                  Kookie between her two daughters.



So this tells of a few signs that I have been aware of in my life. I am pretty sure that there were other signs along the way that just did not register with my consciousness. They went WHOOSH, right over my head. I believe these things that have happened that I call signs, have been gifts sent from God to calm chaotic thoughts, to begin the mending of broken hearts, to cause the phoenix to reemerge, alive and well from the ashes.

Games People Play

This is in response to the StoryWorth question: What games did you play when you were young?

I don’t recall playing too many games as a young child. I seem to recall playing red Rover, tag, and musical chairs upon occasion. I recall playing outside a lot as a child but I don’t know if our play was organized enough to call it games. I recall making mud pies in the dirt of the lane at Grandma and Grandpa’s. I remember trying to catch lightning bugs in the summer. I can recall trying to climb a tree or two but I was never much of a climber.
I do recall playing with my dolls. I had a baby doll and I am sure that I played with it quite a bit but my favorite was playing with Barbie dolls. I acquired about four or five Barbie dolls over time. I had an old Midge doll that had been passed down to me from someone. I had a brunette Barbie with long hair and a Stacy with shorter blonde hair. I also had a Francie doll. I had hours and hours of fun playing with those Barbie dolls.
I recall that one year my Aunt Fanny and her two roommates had used a big box to make a Barbie house for me. They cut out windows and put a partition in the center of the box so that there was a downstairs living area and an upstairs bedroom. They made furniture out of cardboard and covered it all with fabric; fabric curtains, bed covers, couch covers… My Barbies and I loved that cardboard box townhome!
When I was in grade school, I remember carrying my Barbies with me to school sometimes. My other friends did the same and there was a big rectangular piece of stone outside on the playground. That stone became a Barbie mansion and we would play with our Barbies at recess.
I think that I still have my Barbies somewhere. Even in high school, I would bring them out when my younger cousins Jennifer and Laura would come with their mother to visit. We would play with my Barbies. I recall that for some reason, I always had Stacy talk with a British accent.
In grade school, when we didn’t have our Barbies at recess, we would play on the merry-go-round, the jungle gym, and the swings. I always loved the swings and I still enjoy swinging. We would also play kickball at recess. When I got a little older, we played softball at recess.
In junior high, I played on the basketball team. That was when it was half-court and the guards and forwards remained on their half of the floor. I loved basketball when it was half-court. I was a guard and I loved defense; blocking shots, getting rebounds, passing that ball down the court. In high school, they changed girls’ basketball to full-court like the boys. My coach made me a post forward and I never liked to shoot the ball. I did have a pretty good hook shot and I recall once at basketball camp even the opposite team applauded when I made a beautiful hook shot. I didn’t keep playing ball as it just quit being enjoyable to me.
When I was a teenager, I recall playing the card game Rook occasionally with my parents. We also played Rummy. My family never really played board games that I can recall. We really didn’t play many games in general. We would sometimes go bowling but that was rare.
Now in high school, sometimes our study hall teacher would let us play cards if we had finished all of our homework. We would play Spoons until we got too rowdy. Sometimes, the last “spoon” would end up flying across the room as everyone tried to grab for it! We would also play Uno at times. Of course, Uno helped us learn our Spanish! :P
In college, I played some Backgammon with Mohammad and I would rarely play it with other people. My brother David would play an occasional backgammon game with me.

                         My brother and I playing backgammon at the 1982 Nolen Reunion.

My roommate and other college friends loved to play Spades! We had a Spades game going any time we had free time. We would also play the board game Clue and another one called Stop Thief. Stop Thief had a board, but it had an electronic gadget that would make sounds to give you clues to solve a crime. It was kind of like a fancy Clue. We also played Pictionary occasionally.
Of course, back then, we didn’t have electronic game systems like many kids have today. Oh, sometimes we would play Pac man if we went out for pizza and had money to play. I really enjoyed Pac-Man. I tried it years later on an electronic device but it was a handheld Gameboy and didn’t have a joystick. You had to use the arrows to move Pac-Man around the maze. I wasn’t coordinated enough to get the hang of it using the arrows.
Over the years, I have played several games with the kids. We have enjoyed Phase Ten, Rummy, Apples to Apples, Battleship, Charades … I really love to play charades as I love to try to act out the clue. The only trouble is, my acting must rank right up there with my singing as folks seem to have a hard time deciphering what I am up to! We play Rummy occasionally. My husband loves to play Rummy.
Now, my favorite game is a memory game that I made from photos of family members. I made it to play with my granddaughter Jooniebug. She seems to like it. I plan on adding photos of our ancestors to the game. She loves to climb up into my lap to see the “great-greats” on my phone so I think that she will like it with her ancestors too.

Jooniebug playing our memory game with me.

                                    Jooniebug playing the memory game with Dayee Cammy.

So this is about the games that I have played over the years. I am sure that I have left some out but I believe that I have covered the highlights. One thing that I can say about playing games; they are much more fun when you can play for the fun of playing. Playing solely to win can take a fun game and make it rather boring. Being able to lose and still enjoy the experience of having a little carefree fun with family or friends is the best kind of game playing to me.