Welcome to the Nut House!

                                           WELCOME TO THE NUT HOUSE

                                                          OCT. 2008- Temp

                                                          JAN. 2009-Hired

                                                          JUNE 2021-Retired

As I rounded the corner on Polson Rd. and came upon this small metal building with only a dozen or so cars parked in front, I was a little surprised to say the least! I remember thinking, "surely this is not the correct address."  I was expecting something much larger, more conglomerate. 

I nervously opened the front door and walked inside to a very small office space and was greeted by one of the two secretaries with a huge smile! She introduced herself as "Lindsey" as she guided me into another tiny office where I was to be interviewed. There sat a beautiful dark haired young women named Keri, with a little fuzzy white dog on her lap named Dixie Bell. She began to tell me the story of how the company was started and how she and her husband, Kris, came to be owners. It was a family thing, and I was intrigued.  After hearing her story, I knew immediately that this was somewhere I would love to come to every day.  I'm guessing the interview went well, I was called the next day and told to report to work on the following Monday. I was ecstatic. I was currently employed, but was not happy, to say the least! I needed change!

Anticipation all weekend...then Monday! Arriving early, I was brought into this little room called "The Plunking Room." It was a very small room, maybe a 12' X 14' or so. Here sat a couple ladies putting these little rivet type nuts into metal plates by an air gun machine. I see, Plunkers! I sat down to what was called a "Plunking Gun" and was shown what I was to do with it.  Not hard, easy peasy, I got this!  Wow, so different than the job I just left, this could be Heaven!  It was almost like doing arts and crafts, just my cup of tea! A few minutes later, one of the ladies, which was introduced to me as Lora, looked me straight in the eye and said, and I quote, "by the way, we'll know if you pick your nose". I thought,  "Oh Lord, what have I got myself into, this lady is crazy"....I had no idea!  An hour or so later, I happened to look down at my hands and burst out laughing...yep, I get it! My fingertips where black as the ace of spades, if I pick my nose, they will know!  Immediately I relaxed and knew without a doubt that I had made a great decision by accepting this job, and knew that a wonderful friendship was beginning to embark.  

 I was about the 12th or13th person hired into this little company. Everyone was friendly, nice, and helpful, and it wasn't long until I felt like part of a large family. People genuinely cared about each other, not only at work, but in their personal life as well. We all became mentors, teachers, psychologists, and doctors at times. We often referred to our little company as "The Land of the Misfits." Always a team member there to help you through a hard time!

 Lunch was always a fun time. We would all eat together in this tiny little breakroom. There was only one long table and about a dozen chairs. One microwave, one refrigerator, one sink, one coffee pot! 

We shared lunches too, and there was always plenty to go around. No one ever went hungry, that's for sure. Always snacks available left in the breakroom for anyone who got the munches! Very often our bosses would order food for all the employees and sit and eat with us.  How could I get this lucky, or Blessed, I often thought!

Visions for the company began to grow, as did the employees. A steady stream of adding one or two employees a month continued. More office girls were hired and the little plunking room soon became office space. We were moved over to building #2, which was a partitioned off part of a metal type barn and somewhat larger than our previous space. We plunkers, now known as Assembly girls, loved it!  It was OUR'S! Complete with our own bathroom, coffee pot, microwave, and the only air conditioning in the shop!  We deemed it simply "The Nut House."  Perfect name in more aspects than one. A place where crazy stuff happened.  There were days when we would laugh till we literally cried. Sing our hearts out along with Michael Jackson and Alabama. Tell funny stories of days gone by, that involved elephants, kitty cats, fast cars, husbands, kids, and everything in between. We never shunned our duties though. We always got  our work done and in record time. We just had fun doing it! 

                            A tale worth sharing! You would have had to have been there!

 Lora and I were working on a job that involved capping and taping terminal boards.  Cardboard really helps with the capping part of this task and keeps from damaging the table, but it kept slipping around  and causing us to get aggravated so we thought we would just tape that sucker down. We found some two sided tape out in the shop and taped that very large piece of cardboard to the table. Genius! All was well, job finished in record time. We bragged to everyone about how fast we had put out the 2500 pieces.  Now it was time to start the clean up.  Lora grabbed hold of the corner of the cardboard and gave it a big yank.  I'll never forget the look on her face, eyes as big as saucers! Words flew from out of her mouth that I can't begin to repeat!  HA! ...that cardboard was NOT coming off!  We began to pull it off in little tiny strips, however the tape was still stuck to the table.  OH MY how are we going to get this off?  We used everything we could think of. Acetone, denatured alcohol, goop off, a couple other chemicals in cans that I can't remember the name of, scrapers, blades, you name it, we tried it.  I guess all of the chemicals caused the tape to become like snot. Runny, slimy, sticky, gross, snot. We would scrape and try to sling that stuff into the trash can. Strings of snot, at least 2 foot long, sometimes we made it, sometimes it landed on the floor. All we could think of was to pray to the Good and Gracious Lord God that the bosses didn't feel the need to come into The Nut House at that given moment. All the while we scraped, rubbed, poured, and prayed, we were laughing hysterically. Scrape and laugh, scrape and laugh, with a few choice words thrown in here and there. I think we may have been on a high from all of the chemicals we used, but 'funny' would be understatement. Probably about 3 hours later we had gotten the mess off the table, off the floor, into the trash can and out the door. Still laughing uncontrollably and thanking God in the process that no one observed this mess except us! As I've said before, you would have had to have been there to get the full picture.  Moral of the story...lesson learned...do NOT put double sided tape on anything unless you want it to stay forever!

That little room is still there, however, sad and empty now, as STROCO has moved on to bigger, more modern facilities. I still go to the little old building to clean, and often times I remanence about all the good fun times spent there.  The company remains the same in a lot of ways, however, growth does sometimes bring changes. It is still family oriented, Dixie Bell still can be seen from time to time along with her little sister, Lulu Bird. People still care about each other. Kris and Keri are always around when you need to talk or just need help with anything. I no longer work in The Nut House, or the Assembly Department, at least not on a daily basis. I have been in Inventory Control for the last several years and love my job. I have an amazing partner to work with named Bree! She is most definitely an asset to the Inventory department. Helps in anyway she possibly can. It is a very busy place on most days, and we find ourselves running to and fro, climbing ladders, pulling parts, staging jobs, filling pick list orders, and so much more! I couldn't do it without her! She is just another Blessing to me.

As the days, weeks, and months, pass by, I feel elated and sad at the same time.  My time left here at STROCO is numbered as I move into my last year or so and stare at retirement down the road. I still do not have an exact date, but I know it has to be closer than it has been! Oh, I'm looking forward to kicking back, sleeping later, playing in the dirt, and spending time with my husband and family, but I know I'm going to miss this place tremendously. I thank God often that He sent me to that job interview over 11 years ago . I thank Him daily for bosses like Kris and Keri.  I thank Him for the opportunity to know great friendship. To work in an environment that pushes you to be the best you can be and has faith in you when you even doubt yourself. So, as those lazy days get closer I pray nothing but Blessings upon Blessings to Kris, Keri, Vince, the entire STROCO team. Special thank you to Lora for being my friend and all the laughs we've shared.  Reminds me of a song I once heard years ago...goes something like this

                 Seasons change, days go by

                 People come, and people go.

                 Though our paths, lead us away

                 Again we'll meet someday, I know.

                  I owe you so much, my Dear Friends,

                 For all those treasured times.

                  You've made me a better person,

                  Thanks for being in my life

STROCO MANUFACTURING COMPANY  Just want you to know that when that last day comes, I will miss you and I will never forget you!

           

Editors note:

I started writing this story a year or so back, when I was just thinking about retirement in the future. Time has a way of changing things in the most unusual ways. First of all, our little friends Dixie Bell and Lulu Bird have both crossed over the Rainbow Bridge. But a few weeks ago, STROCO team welcomed a new little furry friend named Georgy Ray. Soooo cute! 

 The pandemic hit, and out of all of that bad, came some good. The housing market boomed! We were able to sell our house recently above and beyond what we ever expected, making it possible for me to retire sooner than I thought possible. So here I am 3 days out. My last day will be on June 18th 2021. We will be moving back to Southeast MO soon after to finish out this last chapter of our lives. Hopefully with a lot of visiting, fishing, sleeping late, playing in the dirt, and just swinging in the porch swing. So, again to any STROCO friends that read this story, I love you and I'm so thankful to have worked with you! I will indeed miss you! To other friends, I hope you get to experience a great place to work and go to everyday like I did. It makes getting up at 3:15 A.M. a lot easier when you love your job and the people you work with. Hugs!

The Christmas Boxes

  Sitting here this early Christmas Eve morning reading all of the posts on facebook about how some people are missing their mothers this holiday season.  I too am one of them.  So many things I miss about my mother,  way to numerous to count, but one of the most precious of memories involves the Christmas season.

Mom was an avid crafter. Although she didn't have much money left from her monthly check, she found bargains when there were none to be found by the average person. She had boxes and boxes of yarn, needles, eyeballs, fabric, doll heads, you name it, she had it.
These were her treasures and she took great joy in showing me just what new crafty thing she had just bought, or a new book of patterns that had just came in the mail. Sometimes her small little apartment looked like a Hobby Lobby store. One would do well to even find a place to sit down in her living room. When I close my eyes, I can still invision just what it looked like...partially made dolls lined up on the back of her couch, while a half crocheted afghan lay across the arm of a chair. Sewing machine light shining with bits of thread and scraps of fabric laying on the floor.  Her heaven on earth.

Mom, though her funds were meager, always managed to give all of us, her kids, a Christmas box. She would spend months crafting and putting the items back for gifts. A week or so before Christmas she would spend all of her time baking cookies, banana bread, pumpkin bread, and candies of all sorts. She would then wrap the goodies in clear plastic wrap and tie a red bow around each one. There on her couch would be 5 boxes, lined up like Christmas soldiers,waiting patiently to be filled. She would then divvy out all of her crafty things and sweet treats amongst those boxes. On Christmas Eve morning she would give us all a call and say, "your Christmas box is ready, come and get it". One never knew just what might be included in that box of goodies. 

One Christmas in particular that I remember was when she had come upon a mountain of fabric for free. I think maybe one of the local factories was closing down and she happened upon all of this free fabric, thread, elastic.etc.   Well, she got an idea that she would make all of the men a pair of jogging pants for their Christmas gift that year.  She sewed and sewed until she got them all finished in time.  Wrapped lovingly with paper that she had saved from Christmas past, and placed each pair of joggers in the special box to whom they belonged.  I will never forget when Don opened his gift...They were the sickest, most hideous color of pink one would ever imagine...kind of between a pink and orange color.
We laughed until we hurt over those pink jogging pants. But Don, being Don, put those babies on and wore them proudly. Made mom's day for sure, she was so proud of herself and her accomplishment. Matter of fact he wore those pants until he nearly wore them out, and our house fire took care of the remainder of them. We still have a laugh when we think about those pink jogging pants.

I believe this same year is when she sewed all of the younger kids a "Cabbage Patch" doll. She bought the heads, fabric, and doll pattern and she worked diligently to get each of the kids dolls finished in time for Christmas. Surprisingly they looked really good too. Actually you couldn't tell much difference in her homemade version and the real one other than they didn't have the certificate and the stamp on their butt. My girls kept theirs throughout their teen years and beyond, not sure if they still have them or not..

So, yes, I too along with so many others, miss my mom and dad during the holiday season. This time of year always stirs up those precious memories that are embedded so deeply in my mind and heart. Again, we are reminded of just how precious life is, and how we should enjoy every possible second of it. There is no time for the frivolous things that we get so caught up in. In the end, all we have left are the memories. Death is so final.  There are no do overs to life, so make the most of what you have. Love your children, your spouse, your parents.  Appreciate the smaller things life has to offer, for some day they may be the big things that you remember....................

My Aunt Marge

Margie Mobbs Lucey, the baby daughter of Johnnie and Pearl Mobbs. She was a beauty back in her young days and is still a very beautiful elderly woman now. Her mind is still spry, yet a little slow at times with speech, due to a slight stroke she suffered a few years ago. She walks with a cane, but one can tell she would really like to throw it down and take off without it. Sometimes she wants to walk a little faster than what her mobility allows. Her hair which was once as black as midnight oil and long and straight as an arrow has long since turned to shades of gray and is now at shoulder length. I focused on her high cheek bones, and thought, "that is definitely her Indian genes that she inherited from her mother, my grandmother." 

I stood off to the side observing, as I watched my one and only Aunt of 89 years, (that is still living), look through a photo album that a cousin had brought with him to our first family reunion in many many years. The entire album was a collection of cemeteries, tombstones, and flowers of family members who had passed away. Some were several years ago and were really great photos that are definitely worth keeping. I had to turn away though and take a deep breath to keep the tear from falling from my eye. It was such a sad scene. 

"I wonder what she is thinking, she is the only one left.  Her mom and dad are gone. Her brothers and sister is gone. All of these people in this album are gone." 

She was the baby of the family, and here she is looking at all of these photos, of her aunts, uncles, and cousin's tombstones. It had to be sad for her, but then again, it was probably good to remember all the family that she once felt close to. She would stop ever so often and tell a story that she would recall of the one that had passed.  I could tell that through the sadness she was also thoroughly enjoying the memories and this reunion. The fact that these cousins had driven over from Union City, Tennessee was like icing on the cake to her, I know. So glad they made the effort.

All of this made me think of myself. Yes, selfish, I know.  I am the baby of 5 kids. Mom and Dad are both gone.... and so it starts.  So for, all 5 of us are still living, although some are not in great health. The oldest sister is in her mid 70's, and I know that if  I live long enough, some day I will be where Aunt Marge is now. Even though her children love her dearly, there has to be a loneliness that I am sure no one would understand until they reach that point in life for themselves.

I wish that I had took the time to tell my dear Aunt just how much she meant to me. Although I am sure that she knows. I spent many hours of my childhood running in and out through her front door. In the summer months my cousins and I were together nearly everyday. Such great memories that will always live near and dear to my heart. She was almost like a second mother to me and I suppose that is why I felt such a connection to her when I saw her yesterday. It was like a little piece of mom had come back to me for a few hours.

We are planning another reunion for next year and hopefully many years after.  I pray that my dear Aunt's health holds and we can enjoy many more days together as great as yesterday was.  We never know what life may have in store for any of us, but we can all look forward to that Great Reunion in the sky where no one ever grows old, no one ever dies. What a reunion that will be.

To my cousins...I love you, and so glad we got to spend the day together..so looking forward to next time!

The Whistle Blows

Laying there in the quiet peaceful darkness of the early morning hours, just before sunrise, as the birds began chirping their springtime melodies, all was calm.  In the distance I heard the rumble. I first thought it was a plane but, no, I had heard this before, many many times. Then, the distinct sound of the old whistle blowing.  For a moment I was confused.  A train in the city? But yes, there is a railroad close to the airport, which is not to far away from our house. I just lay there, listening to the lonesome sound of the long drawn out whistles, and it took me back in time, to that small little town that I grew up in. I was overcome with a homesickness, and a loneliness that I had never felt. Once again memories of days gone by................

In my young days families would gather at our house ever so often. All of the cousins, probably at least 12 or 15 of us, would go walking around town and it always ended with a hike down the railroad tracks. Like ducks in a row trying to stay balanced on the rails. Or skipping in between the rails on the boardwalk, as we called it. Laying rocks on the tracks to see if the train would smash them to pieces. Just being together, having fun and enjoying life. Many times we would have to jump off the tracks and let a Cotton Belt train go past us.  So big and powerful. The rumble would almost make my heart jump in my chest. Being raised in a town that had a busy railway in its midst, we were taught at a very young age that trains deserved respect, and not get to close to one that was passing by. Looking back, it almost gives me anxiety to think how close to it some of us probably were.

I lived in that small railroad town most of my life. Raised my children there, and taught them the dangers of the trains, just as my parents had taught me. I remember many nights of being awaken by the low steady whistle off in the distance, rumbling and screeching as it would make its way down the winding tracks from one end of the county to the other.  It was always such a lonesome sound. Almost like a cry. There were times when it even brought a tear to my eye. Sometimes is was almost  haunting and eerie sounding and would make a chill run down my spine. There were times when it would be so loud I would think it might be coming through the middle of our house.

Not to long ago we went back to our home town to visit family and had to stop at the crossing to let a train go by.  Again, as it rolled slowly past, hearing the clackity clack of wheels on rail, I was hit with nostalgia as soon as I heard that lonesome whistle blow.

I'm sure that I will probably never live in this small town again, but seeing and hearing this train just added to the memories and love that I have for it.  It is my home town. It is my childhood. It is where I am from. It helped make me who I am today.  It is where my mom and dad are laid to rest.  It is where I have family. It is where I have friends. It is where I owned a business for a decade. It is where a piece of my heart will forever be.

And so hearing that faint whistle blow early this morning brought floods of emotion back to me in a way I haven't felt in a very long time.  I wish I could have just one more day with cousins on a railroad track, not caring about tomorrow. One more day of my dad telling me to be careful and watch for trains. One more day of  my girls learning to drive and cautioning them vehemently about the trains and what could happen if they too did not respect them. The sound of that lonesome whistle is forever etched in my book of memories and I will visit it from time to time as The Whistle Blows.

Best Friends Forever

I stood there in the warm October sun. Numb, staring at the small grave site and the beautiful bouquet of flowers that would soon adorn the top of it.  I saw a son kiss his mother for the last time.  I saw a daughter hold close the urn that held her mother's ashes with a small gesture that simply said "you will forever be in my heart."  I saw a sister kneel, pluck a vibrant flower from the bouquet and place it in the shallow grave. I saw family and friends with tears flowing generously as they held a small handful of sod and gently let it fall. I felt my heart would break into a million pieces. So missed by many, so loved by all, myself included.  All of the emotions that so frequently follows death.  Anger, love, loneliness, peace, fear and the list goes on.  We all felt the same as the person next to us, connected somehow, even with strangers.

As I stood there in the cemetery I couldn't help but take a moment and turn to my right and  look up the road a bit. This cannot be, I have been here before. At this nearly exact place. Such a long time ago. Maybe not in this same circumstance, but in the fact of losing a best friend. This same gut wrenching  sadness. Can I do this again? Can I go on with life as usual? Yet, I knew that I could.  Knew that I would. The irony of it all, the two that I lost, that WE lost, were cousins.

Melba and I were about 7 or 8 years old when her family moved to Bell City. Just a very short distance from where I lived,  across an ally way actually. We had a lot in common, and she made me laugh...hysterically! In a few days we had become fast friends. Best friends. Inseparable nearly from day one. We remained best friends throughout our teen years and into young married life, until one night she was taken from this world way to soon.  Only about 21 years old. Leaving a very young son behind. My heart was crushed. How could this tragedy happen? It was so hard to except and to understand.  One cannot keep from asking the "why's." And now, here I was once again feeling that same loss and anguish as I did on that sad day so many years ago.

Standing there looking up toward her marker, and listening to the final prayer being given by Billie's heartbroken and humble son, I took comfort in knowing that we had lost Melba nearly 40 years ago and she is still very much alive in my heart and memories, I know that Billie will be too. I know that as time passes all of the sadness will turn bittersweet.  I know that as long as I have a sane mind, I will always remember Billie's sense of humor, her laugh, that beautiful alto harmony voice that added so much to our singing. The sincere honest person that she truly was.  I know that I feel very Blessed to have known Melba and Billie and to have been able to call them both my dear friends.  My life would not have been the same without them in it.

Walking back up the old path, I had to stop a moment and look at Melba's gravestone..and just whisper to myself...........".I remember, I will never forget." I glanced back down toward where Billie would lay and whispered again........"always and forever in my heart."

I loved them both so very much.

The Plain Air Ride

Once I heard an old time preacher man say that he had never took an "airplane ride" but that some day he was going to take a "plain air ride." With somewhat of a sense of humor, of course, but the whole entire congregation knew exactly what he was talking about.

I thought about that this past weekend when Don and I took our very first airplane ride ever to our daughters' wedding in Florida.  Excited would be an understatement of all the emotions I was feeling. Finally the day came, and filled with anticipation I scurried unto the plane with only one thought in my mind..."I have to get a window seat or I am going to cry right here in front of all these people."  It was a wasted worry, there were plenty of window seats, as my daughter, the travel agent, assured me there would be.  As we left the ground and started the lift off, I could actually feel my heart flutter inside my chest.  The stewardess on the intercom informed us that we were headed for a height of about 37,000 feet.. that is about 7 1/2 miles high..Oh, My!

 As, I looked out the window at the clouds floating along below me, I was overwhelmed with the awesomeness of just how big and powerful God really is. I have always heard that we were like grains of sand...but being 7 miles high and looking down just kind of put that all in perspective.  We are truly grains of sand in this ginormous world.

Looking out the tiny window, the clouds looked as if they were giant balls of cotton and I was sure that if the need arose, I could jump on one and it would catch me and hold me in its pillowy softness. I imagined how fun it would be just to jump from one cloud to the next. Or just lay there and  bask in the bright sunshine for a while. I felt as if I were a child again experiencing awesomeness for the very first time.

While focusing on those beautiful white orbs, I thought about and old Hoppers song.  Goes like this:

"Steppin' on the clouds, we'll see Jesus, rise to meet him in the air,
Steppin' on the clouds, he will greet us, oh, the joy together we'll share.
I'm gonna leave this world behind me, goin' where the devil can not find me
 I'm goin higher, higher, higher, Steppin' on the clouds.

I realize also that this little piece of what was pure delightment to me, is also what a lot of people take for granted. Their jobs require or demand that they fly often, so I am supposing they just get used to it, like riding in a car, or on a bus. To most, it is not a big deal.  But as I looked around me and saw the girl next to us was napping, my thought was "how on earth can you nap?"  The man across the isle was working on his computer..."are you kidding me?"  With clouds like this beneath us?" Do they not realize that they are missing God's handiwork that is right here in their midst? I seriously think that a lot times we miss out on blessings by just not taking a moment to see, smell, hear, and touch the mighty works of God. We just need to (as the old saying goes) stop and smell the roses.

I had these same emotions as I stood on the nearly pure white sand of Santa Rosa Beach. The gulf stretched out in front of me with waves lapping at my feet..such total power and awesomeness...Just had to take a moment and take a deep breath and thank God for all the beauty and magnificence that he created.  Once again, I am sure those that live there or go there often take it for granted too. Maybe it is only us Inland people that really appreciate that kind of awesome beauty, or maybe not.

I don't know if I will ever get the chance to fly any where else in this life time.  Or even to stand on the snow white beaches, I hope that I do at some point.  I always told everyone that flying in a plane was in the number one spot on my bucket list.  Well, I can cross that baby off now.  The image of those clouds are forever etched in my mind. If I were an artist, I would paint a picture of it. Although I am sure that a painting would never compare to seeing it all in real life.  If I never get to fly again, one thing that I know for sure is that when this life is over, and God calls me home,  I will indeed take a "Plain air ride" just like that ole preacher man did several years ago.

The ole preacher man was none other than Brother Sydney Razor..Assembly of God minister. My pastor, and mentor when I was a kid.  Don and I attended his church the first few years of our marriage, and he preached my dad's funeral.  A very special man of God that I loved dearly. Many years ago he did indeed take his "Plain Air Ride".  I have no doubt he is now enjoying all of the breathtaking beauty of Heaven itself.

A big thank you to both of our girls..April and Marissa for making this dream come true for Dad and me. The wedding was simple, elegant, and beautiful. But the bride was even more so.  Just the icing and whip cream to this piece of cake.  Love you both and really do appreciate all that you do for Dad and I.

This Bleeding Heart

Eagerly I wait for Spring to arrive,
Each day I check, "are you still alive"?
Searching the ground for one tiny sprout,
on hands and knees,  I crawl about.

Then one day the searching ends,
"There you are" all new again.
Tender, fragile, all clothed in green
I gaze at your beauty, so serene.

Spring rains come, the heavens part,
bringing forth to you one tiny heart.
Bleeding drops of different hues,
I look at this flower, I think of you.

From Heaven above, to this special place,
a sweet gentle kiss upon my face.
Each year we will visit, we will never part,
as I wait the arrival of This Bleeding Heart.

          written by:  Debbi Hendrix



Once again, this little Bleeding Heart flower breaks forth from the ground.  It is always the first thing I look for in the spring. This very flower belonged to my mom.  She had it in front of her apartment for several years..When she got sick and could no longer live by herself, she asked me to dig her Bleeding Heart up and take it to my house..I did without hesitation.

This flower has had many homes since then...She was first in my front yard at Bell City..when our house caught fire and we moved, I dug it up and put it in a pot..We lived in an apartment for a while, so she lived in a pot...then we bought a house in Dexter and she was once again planted in the ground and thrived very abundantly.  When we sold that house and moved to the city, we were once again in an apartment, and she lived in a pot again, then I took her to my daughters house and she lived in her back yard for a couple years. When we bought this house that we live in now, she was dug up once again and placed where she is now...here she will stay. (unless we ever move again, of course)...She is one tough, sturdy, dependable flower, which would also describe my mom!

When I see those first small cracks in the ground in the early spring, and a few little green twigs waving up at me, I have a joy unspeakable down deep in my soul.  It is like an angel kiss that is sweet and tender. A smile from Heaven.  In a couple of weeks she will have little pinkish red hearts hanging all over her...It is like my mom saying to me, "I am still here, I am still close to you, and here is my heart." Just like with Sally (the vine) I love this little flower so very much. Each time I look at it I think of my mom, and it seems to bring a little piece of her back to me.  I will forever and ever cherish This Bleeding Heart, and just as with Sally, I will do everything within my power to keep them both alive and thriving.  Can't wait to see it bloom again this year. Kisses from heaven just to me.

Just An Old Pair Of Shoes

I stood there in the middle of the isle looking at all of the different kinds and sizes, searching for this one specific kind, in which there were none.  Again! It wasn't the first time that I had looked for this one certain style.  But unfortunately, the day had finally come, I had put it off just as long as I could.  I had no choice...it was time to buy another pair of black flat shoes.

While my husband stood at the end of the isle and patiently waited for me to try on at least a half dozen pair, he made a few comments as to which ones he liked best. I didn't know that it would be this hard. As I looked down at my feet, I couldn't help the tears that began to form in my eyes...trying hard to hold back all of the emotions that was connected to this old ragged pair of shoes that I had worn into the store.  I SO wish they were new again... I wish that I could buy them all over again just like it was the day I actually came upon them..nearly 18 years ago. 

It was another typical Saturday afternoon when my mom called as she so often did, and wanted to go to Walmarts (yes, with an 's').  She wanted to buy her another pair of black shoes because hers' was   'just about to wear out.'  As we enter the store she proceeds straight to the shoe area and locates her favorite shoes.  I am sure she told me at least a dozen times just how comfortable those black shoes were that she had on her feet, and that she was going to buy her another pair just like them. Actually this would be her third pair. Same color. Same style. Same size. She insisted that I try a pair on too, and so to make her happy, I did.  Surprisingly they were actually pretty comfortable.. She says to me,  "just put them in the cart, I'm gonna buy you a pair too." Well, we argued over this idea, because there was no way I was gonna let her buy me a pair of shoes.. cheap or not!.. I told her, "No, you put yours in the cart and I will buy you a pair." ... I won!  I would not have thought it at the time, but those cheap ole Walmart (s) shoes quickly became my favorite pair... I wore them to church, to work, to shop, everywhere I went.  Yes, my mother was right again... those were the most comfortable shoes I have ever owned.  I can honestly say that I got way more than my money's worth on that buy!

So here I stood, looking down at the old, dirty, worn out shoes on my feet, thinking about the twinkle in my mother's eyes at the thought of getting herself a new pair, and the feisty little attitude she had at wanting to buy some for me. I was so overcome with emotion.. thinking to myself, "this is silly, they are just an old pair of shoes," but I couldn't shake it... in the check out line I finally got myself together enough to share with my husband that those old shoes were special to me because I had gotten them on one of the many shopping sprees with my mom and she picked them out.

Even though I have looked at Walmart (s) several times in the last year or so to see if they still had those same shoes, I have never been able to find any.  I guess they are out of style these days. And yes, like my mom, I would have bought another pair just like them. Same color. Same style. Same size. 

I like my new shoes well enough I guess, although they really are not as comfortable as these old ones. I will continue to wear my old black fake leather shoes here around the house and out in the yard until they no longer have a sole. Even though these old shoes took me to church, and to the nursing home to visit my mother years later, and to all the special places that I have visited with my family and friends, to me they still have soul. They will serve me a couple more years as I plant my flowers and tend to my little garden, for those are the places that I find to be more surreal these days. There is just something about when they are on my feet that brings a bit of my mother back to me. To most people they are Just An Old Pair of Shoes, but to me they are so much more....they are a very precious memory embedded in my heart....and as all the other memories... I will cherish them forever ....................

I Turn Around

Jumping rope, and riding bikes,
hide-n- go seek
and taking long hikes.
Climbing rocks and London
bridges falling down,
and then it seems,
 I turn around.

Driving cars, music and friends
knowing these days,
could never end.
Carefree and reckless and
infinity bound, and then
you see,
I turn around.

"I do" I said, with a blush
on my face. Nervous and shy
and full of grace.
Beginning a new life,
both feet on the ground,
then again,
I turn around.

Blessed, sweetness,
from heaven above, heart
over flowing, full of love.
Two baby girls, abundantly bound
once again,
I turn around.

Grand babies now,
oh what joys, two sweet girls,
and three little boys.  The sixth
tiny Angel, made no sound, and
sadly, once more,
I turn around.

Lines and wrinkles
now cover my face, I have been
blessed, I've had a good race.
Gray hair, arthritis, spots of brown
and yes, again
I turn around.

Think of me
with laughter and smiles,
patience please, in my last miles.
Jesus, heaven,
a shiny new crown,
Sending hugs and love,
as I last turn around.


Written by: Debbi Hendrix

Written on Christmas Day 2012.  Dedicated to my husband, children, and grand children.

Just 'Ole' Friends, Me and Facebook

I sit here at the computer reminiscing about days gone by, as I so often do these days.  Thinking back to my childhood.  Hot lazy summer days mixed in with a game of baseball, riding bikes, climbing the rocks, or a blanket under a tree.  Radio blaring for all the neighbors to hear. An ice cold Mountain Dew......


The thought never crossed my mind that someday we would all go our separate ways and all of these friends and cousins, would no longer be in my everyday life.  After all we were inseparable...we were alive and living life to its fullest..and one day at a time.


And then like a vapor...we are all grown..leaving home..starting families of our own.  Moving to different cities and towns, and states and countries. Some going to college..some swearing in to Uncle Sam...and life goes on.  We work, we make new friends, we have children watch them grow into adults and begin having children of their own...and then before you know what happened..... AAAAHHHH how sweet! THE GOLDEN YEARS!!!  Bah Humbug! That's all I got to say about that!


Then all of a sudden out of the 'blue clear sky' (Forest Gump)..We are introduced to this new computer thing called Facebook.  Probably been around for quite a while, I am just not real computer literate..so I am a little slow in catching on to these new fangled ways.
But once I got the hang of it, my search was on....and for the first time in many years, I felt like a kid again.  I found cousins...1st, 2nd, and 3rd, cousins... cousins of cousins, and cousins that think they are my cousins... and friends...and more friends, old friends, new friends..People that I haven't seen nor heard from in 40 to 50 years...sad to say.  I was and am in a sort of a Heaven. I can read what all of these people do on a daily basis.. I love hearing about their children and grandchildren.  I love reading what people had for dinner.  I love reading about the weather in whatever city or state you live in. I love seeing pictures of what they all look like now, and what they look like in my memory. Above all it is one of the best prayer chains I have ever seen... If you or someone you love needs prayer.. just post it on Facebook!  Even though I know that some people give Facebook/computer a lot of slack.. I have to say that I Thank the Good Lord for such an invention.  I love hearing from all of my friends and family. I am so thankful that I am able to keep in contact with those that are dear to my heart.

This past week I have been blessed by finding two 'ole' friends that I played with and hung around with when I was a kid through out my teenage years.  Gloria Combs ....and Patricia Huffman.  Gloria's father was a minister at the Assembly of God church and lived next door to my mom and dad.  We used to hang out together a lot after school and in the summer months...ran all over that little small southeast Missouri town.  She was a christian girl, and probably helped to keep me on the straight and narrow in those young years.  I will forever be grateful to her for her influence on me. Gloria and I played a lot of baseball with the neighborhood kids.  Went to a lot of youth rallies at church.. and we like to camp out in her back yard. HA!  Another quilt over the clothesline story.  Only her brother scared the begebeeis out of us one night and I don't know if we ever camped out again after that.. a very precious memory!  
          
Patricia, (aka Patty now) I have wondered for years where she was, and what she was doing.  If she was well and happy, and hoping and praying that someday our paths would cross again.  Pat used to live 2 doors down from my oldest sister, in another small Missouri town.  Anytime I went to visit my sister, whether it was for and hour or a week, I would always head over to Pat's house.. my brother in law would sometimes load all of us kids up in the car and take us swimming to a creek outside of town.  Probably about 10 kids, no seat belts, no life jackets, no sunscreen!  Just plain ole summer fun.  The one real memory I have of Pat and me is laying on a blanket under a tree in her front yard.  Radio blaring to the tune of 'Yummy, Yummy, Yummy, I Got Love in my Tummy".  Talking about what young fellow we thought was cute and who we wanted to marry someday. I am so very thankful to finally find her again.  The irony in it is that she now lives right outside of my home town.  The world is so large, yet so small.  I am thinking a reunion will be in the near future!


From the very first day I became a Facebook member I began my search for these two women.  Literally several times a month I would type in their names and hope I would get a lead... it finally came.. through other peoples pages... that led me to them...  I know that some may think I am too nostalgic, too sentimental, too emotional, but I don't care. I will forever be grateful that I have reconnected with these two and so many others. I just wish I could have a huge reunion and have all of my 'friends' show up!  Wouldn't that be a hoot! 


I know this is not really a story.. but just my thoughts.. but something I just wanted to share.. so to all that read this.. family, friends, old and new... I love you and I am glad that we are friends!

Moody and Me.........."The Hidden Treasure"

In the top chest of drawers in my mom and dad's bedroom lies a hidden treasure. I don't really know how long it has been there, but I am thinking for a very long time. My cousin, Moody, and I discovered it by accident. We were putting away some laundry when we found it. We were not looking for it, or any treasure at all for that matter. But there it was, hidden deep, buried beneath a mountain of underwear, socks, and handkerchiefs. I remember that it was cool to the touch. Not large, not small, kind of skinny and tall, and it sure did peak our curiosity! We HAD to investigate a little farther. We HAD to see what it was!! With my sweaty nervous hands wrapped around the coolness, I brought it up through the maze and it glittered and sparkled like a precious gem in the bright sunlight! The prettiest amber color you have ever seen! Our eyes widened at the sight, as we looked at each other a HUGE smile lit both of our lips. Well, well, well, YEP! this should be fun! Low and behold, we had found my dad's stash!! His golden treasure! His hidden bottle of PEACH BRANDY!!!!!!!

O.k. I feel the need to explain myself here. LOLOLOLOL Any of you that really know me, know that I am not a drinker nor have ever been. But there is just something about being a teenager that just makes one do things that they know they shouldn't....this just happens to be one of those things! Seems like Moody and I were kind of always finding ourselves in this situation. Don't know if I influenced her or she me, which ever it was, we were a pair, joined at the hip in those days, and once again, here we were......

So as the story goes..... Moody and I looked that bottle up and down, and I say,"HUMMMM, You go first"...she did! She was a very good bluff, because she says back to me ..."It's not too bad." O.k. my turn, and I take a big gulp........... HHHoooLLLLyyy CrAAAAp!.... I am thinking now that I probably said worse! LOL But you know how teens are, we couldn't let this golden opportunity pass by, that's when we came up with the idea of mixing it with something to take the 'sting' away! Surely that would be better than drinking it raw from the bottle. So, we open the refrigerator to see what could be a possibility, and the only thing we found was some Wagoner Orange Juice and some Real-O Lemon juice. This was gonna be good!..... We used these little orange juice glasses that mom had, (you know the ones you used to get out of washing powder? Had silvery gray leaves on them?).. They made great shot glasses! LOL 1/2 orange juice, almost 1/2 peach brandy and dab of lemon juice!... OH MY!! Talking about nasty!!! Made the eyes water and the throat burn as well. But I guess it was the excitement of doing it that kept us making them. Don't know how many of these we forced down, but everything was beginning to get really funny! We kept sampling the bottle and acting stupid and feeling very giddy at the thought of just what we were doing, until the bottle was about half gone, maybe a little more...... Then as usual.. it was reality time! What are we gonna do now? We are dead meat when dad finds this! Now that was a VERY sobering thought! See, I was an angel, you know, I would have never done anything like that! HA! The only thought then in my mind was...'Dad is gonna beat me to death.' Well, we couldn't put it back in the drawer less than half full.... so our minds start racing and all of a sudden we come up with a wonderful idea!!............

My brother was living back at home with us for a while. He hadn't been home from Viet Nam very long, and anyone that knew him back then knows that sometimes he would drown his sorrow's in his liquor... WWWEEELLLLLLLLLL Moody and I had the grandest idea, we would just add some water to the bottle and bury it back in the drawer and when dad saw it, he would just think that my brother had been having a drink from it!... Perfect! (we didn't think about the water weakening the brandy, or changing the color of it.)

Fast forward a couple of days.. It is the weekend and dad decides he needs a drink of his peach brandy. He opens his drawer and finds the amber colored bottle and takes him a big gulp! Moody and I are in the bedroom and all of a sudden we hear him going into a cussing fit! Went something like this:

"*****Dammit boy, if you want a drink out of my bottle then just get a drink, you don't have to sneak around and then fill it back up with water".....

My brother- "I didn't drink your damn brandy and I didn't put no water in it"....

Dad- "don't tell me you didn't put water in it, I know what it is suppose to taste like"....

brother- I am telling you I haven't touched your bottle..........

And so it went, back and forth, neither one of them could convince the other that they were both right. Moody and I are laying on the bed and burying our heads in the pillows because we were laughing so hard it hurt! Each time one of them would say something we would laugh a little harder. We finally straightened up enough that we made it out the front door and over to the school ground across the street from my house, and just laid out in the grass and laughed till we cried! IT WORKED!!! Hallelujah it worked!! We made a faithful promise to God Almighty that we would never do that again! Yeah Right! We did......just not to the extreme to where we had to add water to it to hide the evidence.

As I have became an adult.. it just baffles me that neither dad, mom, nor my bother ever had the thought that it could have been us girls as the culprits! We were both basically good kids, despite all of these stories I have told you in the past, LOLOL, and I guess it just didn't enter their minds that we would do such a thing.

Moody nor I have ever forgotten about the hidden treasure that we found in my dad's top dresser drawer. Anytime we are together we still, to this day, have a good laugh over it. Such precious memory's! I would do it all over again today if I could. The fun, the laughter, the innocence, the braveness, no worries about life beyond 'what are we gonna do now.'

As I bring the saga of 'Moody and Me' to a close, I know that there are several more stories that I could add. Maybe someday I will. We shared so much together as kids....Barbie dolls, umbrellas, bicycle rides back to the woods, double dates, boyfriends... and the list goes on and on... I think I could write from now till forever and not cover all of the fun times we had together. I wish that all kids could have a special cousin or friend to share their childhood with, as I did. I hope that someday she has a chance to read all of my stories, and that she knows how much she means to me. We don't get to see each other very often anymore, but she still lives very close to my heart. Reminds me of a song I once heard many years ago. The chorus goes something like this:


I owe you so much my dear friend,
for all of those treasured times.
For you've made me a better person,
Thanks, for being in my life!

From my heart to yours!................................................

Moody and Me.........Cake on the Ceiling

As always, something I say, do, hear, or see, triggers a precious memory of my childhood. A couple weeks ago my grand children came to spend the night with us and this time it was my grandson, Aidan, acting silly,(in which he is famous for) when he said..."I want cake! I want cake! Lets bake a cake!" I was in the middle of making taco's for supper, and immediately my mind hurled back once again to a hot summer day in the late 1960's.

If you have read any of my previous stories in the 'Moody and Me' saga, then you know how we always spent those precious summer months at each others house. This particular time it was her turn to be at my house.

Mom and dad were at work so that left two teenage girls, unsupervised, with way too much time on their hands. My mom worked a swing shift at the local nursing home, and this was her week to work 'mornings'. It was also house cleaning day for Moody and me. It was my job in the summer months to keep the house clean while Mom worked.....Sooooo with the old box radio tuned in to KDEX, and 'Joy to the World' blaring as loud as possible we started our daily housecleaning chores. Now with music like that playing, making beds, sweeping, dusting, and mopping the floors was a breeze. We soon had the whole house gleaming and smelling like Pine Sol and lemon wax. We had worked really hard and Mom was going to be proud of our efforts for sure...

With the house work behind us, it was time to laze around for a couple hours, as most teens do. I suppose a hunger pain struck when one of us made mention of "sure wish we had something sweet to eat". When the other says.."I know, lets bake a cake!" (Since this was like 45 years ago, I am assuming that we were making a homemade cake, and NOT a cake mix in a box.) Moody might can tell you more of the details than I. I don't remember if it was white,yellow, or chocolate, never the less, we started out with a very serious attempt to bake this cake.

Everything was going great in our cake making adventure, until.........wheather it was a flick of the wrist with a batter drenched spatula, or one of us brought the mixer beaters up to fast, but all of a sudden we were both sprayed with cake batter.............and.........THE FIGHT WAS ON!!!!!!!!!! Not a real fight of course, but a cake batter fight! We started out flicking it at each other and before long we were throwing that stuff with spoons, spatulas, mixer beaters, and handfuls. Jumping, running, dodging and not giving a second thought as to just where it all was landing. Laughing and screaming like two real idiots, chasing each other throughout the house and even out the front door, all while the radio was still blaring as loud as possible. I am sure that anyone that happened to be walking down the sidewalk in front of the house, thought that we had lost our minds.

After we had demolished the whole bowl of batter, and our laughter began to subside somewhat, reality then set in...............I will never forget the first words out of her mouth..........'HHHOOOLLLYYY SSS*****TTTT'..........Still makes me laugh today to remember the look on her face and the colorful obscenities!! MY first thought of course was, 'Mom is gonna kill us both'. We both looked at each other, did a very quick 360, and then at the clock at the exact same time. Our minds racing trying to figure out just how much time we had to clean the mess up before Mom walked in the door. I don't remember the exact amount, but lets just say that we had to work like two speed demons to get it all cleaned up with not a minute to spare.

In walks my Mom, all hot, tired and red faced from a hard days work, and here we sat like two little precious angels with the house smelling from the stench of pine sol (AGAIN) so fresh and potent, and swet dripping from our brow. She sang our praise for what a wonderful job we had done with the house cleaning and how very much she appreciated our efforts. All the while we were trying our darnedest to keep straight faces. Then one of us looked up! Huge eyeballs! Big gulp! There on the ceiling of the kitchen was a big glob of cake batter. Getting ready to make its debut! And that wasn't counting all of the little splats we seen! WE LOST IT AGAIN, Laughter overwhelmed us! Out the front door we went in a hysterical fit. Mom just thought we were two very silly teenage girls. We had to catch mom in the bathroom or outside before we could hop up in a chair and clean the ceiling off, before she seen it too!

I really don't remember if we ever got that cake baked or not. If we did, we were probably more careful, but one thing I am sure of, we were laughing all the while we made it. ........

OH MY! what a precious memory! I don't bake cakes very often anymore. My husband loves cake but he is a diabetic, and not suppose to eat much sweets. But I can tell you this, that when I do bake one, the thought of  'cake on the ceiling' always crosses my mind and puts a smile on my face. So to my Moody I say, 'It was one of the most fun filled times that we ever had together.' One that is etched in my memory forever.... Soooo Have a piece a cake, and think about me, as I will you, Always!......

Moody and Me..............."Just a Swingin"

We, Moody and I were about 12 years old, and at the age where kids like to experiment with all sorts of things that their parents don't know about. I have often wondered why kids do things when they know if they get caught, it isn't going to be pretty. Maybe it is rebellion to a certain degree, maybe just the thrill of knowing you have defied your parents. Maybe a 'dare' 'double dare' type of thing. I suppose that most all of us have had this little honory streak in us at one time or another, nevertheless, in the summer of 1965, I found myself faced with one of these decisions, and I confess, I chose honory.....................................


My mom and dad had leased the old Bell City Pool Hall/Cafe and they both worked very long hours. Sometimes, more often than not, I was what I would call 'less than supervised.' I just kind of wondered around and took care of myself, especially in the summer months when school was out. Although I was normally a good kid, somewhere along the way I decided that I needed a new form of entertainment. So nothing due but I try my hand at smoking cigarettes. I don't know how the idea got into my head. Maybe from watching all of the teens coming in the cafe and seeing them smoke. After all my dad smoked. My brothers smoked. My sister in laws smoked. Some of my aunts and uncles smoked. My cousins smoked....... well, you get the picture. Or maybe I just wanted to feel grown up like all of those teenagers I would see doing it........Never the less, there was a special spot underneath the cash register where mom and dad kept all of the tobacco inventory. It was open and easy to get to, so I had no trouble at all catching mom in the kitchen and 'sneaking' a pack or two of my favorite brands. I think through those summer months that I tried every kind they made at one time or another. I got really good at it too, with sneaking them out, and puffing. It got to where it didn't even make me sick anymore.

Thus enters my dear cousin, Moody.................. Now, I had to teach Moody all about cigarette smoking. I think she was quite the rookie. I am thinking that she was a little intimidated at first, but it wasn't long until she could puff with the best of them. I also had to teach her how to sneak in and catch the parents not looking and swipe a pack or two from underneath the counter. We would grab and run!!!! And laugh all the way to one of our favorite places which was on top of Brown's Hill. Talking about privacy!! We could be sheltered behind a couple of big rocks and not one soul would know that we were there...we didn't think about all of the smoke floating around in the air. I am pretty sure that I remember Mr. B. Rust running us off of that hill a time or two.

Another one of our favorite places to 'hide' and smoke was behind the cafe. The Shell station, a thriving business at the time, had four really, really big gas tanks behind the cafe building.. There was this little shed that held four long thick hoses, probably 4 or 6 inches thick, with a nozzle at the end. The two Mr Trophs would drive their gas trucks over and fill them up out of these large tanks. It didn't take Moody and I long to discover that these hoses made great swings. We would literally sit on the hoses, 8 or 10 feet in the air and swing, swing, swing. So that became our next favorite smoking spot............OH YES!! IT WAS!!! Looking back, I am sure that there was a band of angels that kept their hands over the two of us.. It is a wonder we didn't blow up the whole town!! I guarantee you, being kids, we were not careful with it either....never gave it a second thought. I have no idea how many times we would sit up on those hoses for hours and smoke, laugh, and swing. I can assure you this, if my dad would have caught us, I probably would not be sitting here writing this story. I am quite sure I would have had the same result if either one of the Mr Trophs would have caught us too.

Our smoking adventures continued for the next few years. When we were at her house we would sneak out to the old outhouse and light one up. Thinking we were hid of course, not realizing again that our smoke was escaping right through the big cracks in the walls.. I remember that Moody's sister caught us one time. She seen the smoke escaping from the cracks and sneaked up on us. We had to beg her and promise that we would NEVER do it again if she would only have mercy on us and not tell her mom and dad....... WE LIED!!! We smoked every time we got the chance. We would ride the bicycles down to the hog pen back in the woods and sit on the fence and blow our smoke...... AWWWWW SWEET SMELL, cigarette smoke and hog manure!!!!!!! Later years when mom and dad didn't have the cafe any longer, we would throw our nickels and dimes together and try to get enough money to buy us a pack. If that wasn't feasible, then we would look around the house and dig 'butts' out of the ashtrays where my dad had smoked previously...YES WE DID!! Now that is pretty dang GROSS!!! And so it went until somewhere along the way it wasn't much fun anymore...I never continued with the habit in my adult years, don't know if she did or not. But we sure had a lot of fun experimenting with it.

I know that some of you are asking,"why in the world would smoking be such a precious memory." I really don't know, other than it was time spent with my best friend. A time when, once again, we were young and carefree, with not a worry in the world (other than getting caught of course.) When life was an adventure, and everything we did was a laugh. Not just a laugh, but a 'laugh till you hurt' kind of laugh. As I reminisce back on it, I can still see us sitting there on our swings, she facing one way, and me the other. That way we had each other's back, just in case someone came around the corner and surprised us. But most of all it was just another summer day when two cousins shared another bond and a promise of 'cross your heart until you die' secret that no one could ever drag from our lips......................................................................................

Moody and Me- No Ordinary TeePee

I opened the bedroom door to find that my three oldest grand children had taken the quilt and blanket off the bed and had it stretched out over the furniture. I said, "What in the WooRRRlllddd are you guys doing?" they answered, "We are building a fort Mama, come look". I get down on my hands and knees and peek through the small opening. They had all the pillows piled around, their army men and all of their 'weapons' laid out neat and tidy. The oldest one, Alison, says..."We can't get this side to stay closed"........ I smiled. "I'll be right back," I said. I went in the kitchen pulled out a drawer and grabbed a handful of clothes pins.... back to the bedroom and leaned down with a huge smile on my face and said... "I bet these would work"..........."AWESOME" they said, and nostalgia hit me hard......


1 Strong Clothes Line
+5 Quilts/Blankets (or 50 burlap sacks)
+100 Clothes Pins
________
= 1 Fine Tent

I am guessing that we, Moody and I, were about 11 or 12 years old. It was one of the many times that I was visiting with her for a week or so when we came up with the idea of how much fun it would be to 'camp out' in her back yard. You have to remember that this was back before the days of Walmart, Kmart, Target, TOYS R US etc. Back when life was simple, when kids made up their own games, and couldn't just run to a store and buy whatever they wanted....such as a tent. Back when parents never gave a second thought to letting their kids sleep outside on the ground in a home made tent. When kidnapping or child molestation was something you never heard of.

So Moody and I set out to build us a tent. My dear Aunt Bernice supplied us with everything necessary to put it together, even instructing us on how to lap the quilts over the clothesline and pin it together with clothespins. After a few times of it falling down on top of us, we finally perfected the construction of it and we could make it so tight that an ant could not have crawled in. We loved sleeping in our tent and for the next 5 years or so we spent very few 'summer' nights in her house. If we did, it was only because the weather wouldn't let us stay outside. We pretty much made that tent our summer home. It was the very first thing that we would do when I would get to her house. Grab the quilts, and build our tent.... The very last thing that we would do before I went home.....take the tent down and pile the quilts on the back porch.

I am thinking that my aunt might have got very tired of washing these quilts on a wringer washing machine and hanging them out on the clothesline to dry, just so that we could mess them up again in a week or so. Because this one summer she surprised us with the idea of making our own tent out of 'tow sacks'(burlap feed sacks). She took us out to the backyard and showed us how to unravel the chain stitch in order to lay the sacks out flat. We were given two very large darning needles, and a spool of twine thread..... I know that we had to have sewn at least 50 of these babies together.. the result was huge..and it took us all day to finish the project. But when we got done, we had ONE FINE TENT. We had all four walls and the floor in one big piece. We could just throw it over the clothesline and then clothespin up the sides.. A genius of an idea!! (I am quite sure that our Native ancestors would have been quite proud of us!!!) Now when it came time for me to go home, we would just fold the tent up, stuff it down into another tow sack, and hang it on a nail on the back porch... ready and waiting for the next visit.....

We would pile all of our possessions in our tent. Our purses, our barbie dolls, books, pillows, blankets even snack foods. Anything we thought we might need, would be in the tent with us. We would make cabinets and tables out of cardboard boxes... Yep, we had made ONE FINE TENT.

I can not begin to tell you how many times through the years I have reminisced over that tent. Attached to it are some of my most fondest childhood memories....It was our fort...our playhouse...our sanctuary...our summer home. The place where Moody and I would laugh and talk and stay up half of the night with only a flashlight, telling each other our deepest kept secrets. As I sit here writing this I can still smell the burlap sacks that enclosed us. The smell of the damp soybean field just 20 feet or so from where we lay. The grassy smell of the green carpet beneath us. A whiff of motor oil coming from my uncles garage...even the smell of the hogs down in the pasture back in the woods. I remember so distinctly laying there in the middle of the night smelling all of these smells mingled together.


I don't know if I ever told my dear aunt 'thank you' for putting up with me all of those summers as a kid. Don't know if I told her 'thank you' for helping us and showing us how to sew our tent. I hope that I did. I hope that she knew how much it all meant to me...

I can only pray that my grandchildren can make great memories together too, so that some day they too can look back and realize how bitter sweet it all was. Weather it be at their own houses or back yards or even if it is making a fort in Mama's bedroom floor........................Seems like only yesterday it was us... Moody and ME..........................................................

Moody and Me- California, Here We Come

I was in my own little 6 year old world, swinging, at my aunt and uncles house, when this chubby little blonde haired girl came up to me and said, "Hey! we are cousins." I had never seen this girl before in my life, that I could remember anyways, so I had to go ask my mom if this was true....with the little blonde following behind me. Sure enough, she was right and we were definitely cousins. She said to me, "My name is Moody, what's yours?" I replied with "Lainie" ( my nickname as a child, hailed from my middle name 'Elaine'.) She grabbed my hand and said "lets go play"......my friend for life!!!!!!

Moody and her family lived in Michigan at the time and had came home to our uncle's funeral, my dads' brother, her.. mothers' brother. I suppose that is why I didn't remember ever seeing her before since she lived so far away. A few weeks after the funeral her family moved back to Missouri and settled in a small town just 10 miles from where I lived, so our families visited quite often and Moody and I became the very best of friends. When we discovered that we were the same age, that just made our friendship stronger. After all she was only 6 weeks older than me. We went to different schools but every time we got a chance we would spend the night with each other. In the summer months we took turns spending weeks. She would come to my house for a week and I would go home with her for a week. This went on for the next 10 to 12 years.

There are several stories that involved the two of us that I plan on sharing......she was so very much a part of my childhood... We shared many many laughs together. When you are a kid seems like everything you say or do is funny. We don't get to see each other very often anymore, mostly at funerals .... I hope that she remembers those days together as fondly as I do....for they will always be in my heart. So come ride along with us as Moody and me journey to California!!!................



CALIFORNIA HERE WE COME

Moody had moved to a small farm outside of Advance. I loved going to her house..There was so many fun things to do there. I lived in town and so going to the farm was a real treat for me. She lived in a big old two story house and we would play upstairs for hours. She and her sister had bicycles,which I didn't have at home and although I didn't know how to ride one at first, (That will be another story) I finally did learn. She had real Barbie dolls, and a little toy piano, the best climbing tree in the whole world. Then there were the cars.....

Her dad was an auto mechanic and had lots of old cars parked everywhere.. I guess they had been wrecked or just needed repaired. Some of them he just used as 'parts'. So on the times when I got to go to her house for a few days we would plan our trip to California...She would grab a favorite doll or two and so would I, we would pack a little overnight case filled with our babies clothes and anything else we thought we might need on our trip and go out to the 'car lot' and pick out our favorite car. Sometimes we would drive separate cars, but most of the time we would ride together, and take turns driving. Our husbands would be with us of course, and this would be whoever we might have a crush on at the time. Subject to change at any given moment.

As I sit behind that stirring wheel and 'drive' us, we pretend that we see all sorts of things. We cross over the mountains and over long bridges, sometimes we change our minds mid trip and decide to go to New york, or drive to Hawaii or maybe England. We are in the middle of a storm so we have to turn the wipers on. We honk the horn ( which doesn't work) to just say 'Hi' to someone we pass, or to tell someone to get out of our way......Sometimes we would stop at a 'store' or 'restaurant' and have to go in and get a snack or something cold to drink.. we never tarried long, we would always be in a big hurry to get back on the road. We would see the sights of the whole world through the dirty, dust covered, broken windshields........there were times when my uncle would sell one of our favorites, and we would be sad as we would stand and watch someone hook on to it and pull it off. But we would just look around and pick out another one that we liked.

Yes, we traveled at least a million miles during those summer months, never leaving her back yard...For a couple years, that was our favorite thing to do, from daylight to dark, was ride and drive those old cars, to nowhere, and everywhere....

I have thought about those old cars often in my adult life and the fun that we had as kids. In our own innocent world, believing that we owned it. Young and carefree, pretending that we were all grown up and all the while not realizing that at the time we were making precious memories that we would be thinking about 50 years later.....

I never made it to California for real...don't know if she did or not...I hope so...Maybe I should put that on my bucket list...when I get around to making one. We never know what tomorrow brings, maybe someday......but I think I will fly when I do go..just so I don't get side tracked and end up in England or somewhere else...................................

My Dad..........March 2, 1911 - Dec.5th, 1974

December 7th, 2010


Today has been a sad day for me, as this calendar day has been for the last 36 years. Dec.7th, not only is it Pearl Harbor Day, but it marks the day that my dad was laid to rest, in a very small cemetery, on top of a hill, in the town where I grew up in. Near the place where he was born and raised his family. Seems impossible that it has been that long ago.

I was almost 21 years old. I had been married for nearly 3 years, and had a 10 month old baby girl. My life absolutely revolved around my husband and daughter. When looking back, I can't help but think how young and naive I truly was, and so very selfish. I did not realize the finality of death. That when one takes that last breath, it is over, the end of life as we know it, gone. I have so often wished that I had been older and more mature, before he passed from us. I wished that I had talked to him. I mean really talked to him. I wish that I would have known his thoughts and wishes. Where he was 'coming from'. I wish I had asked him more about his life as a young man. I wish that I had realized that mom needed help in caring for him. Many wishes, many thoughts, many regrets.

I always said that Raymond Finney was ONE STRANGE BIRD.  Don says that "'he was what he was." But truthfully, he had some very strange ways. For instance, he thought boys and girls lived by two totally separate set of rules. There are 5 of us kids. 3 girls and 2 boys. The boys were just expected to drink, smoke, cuss, and stay out late (after they got older of course.) I have heard him say more than once that, "boys will be boys." For us girls, it was a whole different story. I have to say that I had it better than my two older sisters, even though he still had some strict rules, lucky for me, times changed and so did he. He had a dress code that the older girls lived by, and wearing shorts was NOT in it. So playing sports in school was not an option for them. Fifteen years later when I was in high school he had mellowed out some and  I got to play volleyball, and I wore shorts. You could forget about being a cheerleader. His thought was "you are NOT going to get out there and turn flips for those boys and show your underwear." Period.

 He did not attend any of our weddings. He said that he had only been to one wedding in his life and that is all he intended on going to. When Don and I got married, he chose to sit over on the "liars bench" in front of the cafe/pool hall until the wedding was over . He did however come in time to share the wedding cake with us, and enjoyed being with all of the people. Again, One Strange Bird!!
He had many other ways and thoughts that at the time I just took for granted, but as an adult, I indeed think they were strange.

I can only speak for myself here....

I was almost like an only child. There are 8 years between me and my brother closest to me in age, so by the time I got to be 10 or 12 years old, the other 4 were married and having kids of their own. So a lot of time was spent with just dad, mom, and me in the house.  The sad part of that is that I feel like I never really knew him. To me he was an authoritative figure, that simply ruled the house, and I do mean ruled. Always telling me "you are not going there" or "you are not doing that" or "you are not running around with that girl" "you are not going out with that boy" etc. We never really had any conversations at all, and I remember thinking that my life would be so much better if he wasn't in it. Again, so young, naive, and selfish I was.

 I have often thought about Reba McEntyre's song, "The Greatest Man I Never New". Some of the song fits so perfectly with the way I felt during those young days.  I always new that dad loved us kids, even though he never said the words, at least not to me. There were never any "I love you's",  kisses, or hugs from him. He just didn't know how to show any affection or emotion. Although as I said previously, I knew that he did. Maybe this is why I always tell my girls that I love them when I am leaving them or hanging up the phone from talking with them... I want them to KNOW that I love them.  I never want them to doubt it or question it.

The letters...........

I suppose work was hard to find in the days before I was born, and afterward, because sometimes during the winter months dad would go to my uncle's houses in New York, or Florida, and work and send the money back home to mom. It was his way of keeping food on the table and trying to provide for us.....  After my mom passed away I was going through an old suitcase filled with some old memorabilia of their lives together and I found some old letters that dad had written to her while on these work trips. Which shocked me to the core.  First of all, I really didn't think dad could read or write much, other than to write his name. He always had mom do that kind of stuff. I was mystified to see he could actually write pretty intelligently.

As I held these letters in my hand and read the words for the first time in my life, tears flowed down my cheeks. It was so sad that 30 plus years after he was dead and gone, I saw a glimpse of a man I never knew existed.  He spoke of how much he missed mom and us kids. He would say things like "Now you have the boys help you get the wood in"...at one point I guess one of my sisters was gone with someone for a few days because one letter said something like..."I want Gerry home as soon as possible, I don't like her being away from home, " With the later letters he would always end it by saying.."Give that little ole baby girl a kiss for me"...Which meant me....As I sat there reading these letters I literally saw a side of him that I had never seen in the 21 years that I knew him, and it tore me up inside. I will cherish those letters until the day I am laid to rest.

Dad found out he had lung cancer on Sept 5th, 1974. He lived exactly 4 months to the day from when he found out. After he got sick, he became a Christian, and got baptized. He laid on his death bed with his arms straight up in the air. Praying. He told someone that he wasn't afraid to die, he knew he was going to a better place. The only thing that bothered him was that he didn't want to leave his kids and grand kids in this world, the way that it was. Wonder what he would think if he could see it now!!

So, this is the story. I know that it may seem like a sad story to some, and maybe it is. I harbor no ill feelings toward him at all, for as Don said "He was what he was". I know that he loved us, he just wasn't good with words. Sometimes, I find myself in that same situation. I am just not good with words, but I love deeply and wholeheartedly. I look forward to someday being able to sit down with him and 'really' talk to him. There is so much I want to say and so many questions I want to ask... Until then, every once in a while, I will dig out the old letters and read the scribbled words, and ponder the bitter sweetness of knowing that even
even though he never spoke the words out loud to us, that down deep in his heart... He loved us all......................

"SHUT UP BABY, I'M TRYING TO SANG" title taken from Ray Stevens- Gitarzan

I know that I have said this before, but I will tell you again that the older I get, the more nostalgic I become. I don't know if it is the fact of knowing that I am no doubt NOT going to live as long as I have already, or just the all consuming wish that I could go back to being young again just so that I could live it one more time. Never-the-less, this morning I found myself back there again, another time, another place in my life, where everything was simple, and it didn't take much to be entertained.

I have this part time job of cleaning the offices where I work. I usually do this early on Saturday morning.  So, here I was early this morning, before dawn, cleaning. There is a radio in the break room, so I thought, "what the heck". When I first turned it on, there was this 'rap' music on, which I don't particularly care for. So, I just hit the scan button and then......OH MY GOODNESS!!! what came on, you will never guess! What a Blessing this was! It was a gospel station and evidently on Saturday mornings they play nothing but Southern Gospel! YES! (You don't hear much of that here in the city) They were playing some very good oldie, but goodies..... I was ecstatic..... blaring from the box was the old quartet, The Inspirations, and they were singing "Touring that City"........well, you know me.. here I went back in time.....................

It was the year of about 1975-ish and Don and I was going to the Assembly of God Church on a regular basis. The pastor there, Bro. Sidney Razor, always played the guitar and sang in church with his wife. Don was so fascinated by this. I don't think he had ever seen anyone play the guitar in church before, at least not much. He announced to me one day that he had decided that he wanted to learn to play the guitar too! He had gotten a real desire to want to  play in church like Bro Razor. Knowing that he was serious about learning, I had a brilliant idea! Since it was close to Christmas..I would buy him a guitar for his gift.This was going to be so good! So a few months later, here I go to the music store!  Well...... I had no idea that guitars were so expensive!  Right away I knew that my $50.00 wasn't going to buy anything but a string or two! I was beyond shocked.  So, I went back home with a broken heart for thinking he would not be getting his guitar for Christmas that year..... He did get one however, but he had to go pick it out himself and use what little money we had saved to pay for it. After a couple months of being woke up at 2:00 a.m. to the tunes of  'Clementine' and 'Long, Long, Ago', and 'She'll Be Comin' Round the Mountain', I was wishing that I had never laid my eyes on stupid guitar.... SERIOUSLY?

Our good friend, Billie, was going to church with us about this same era in time that Don was learning to play his guitar. She decided that if Don could learn how to play one then so could she. I can not explain to you the hilarity of these two trying to learn to play together. Fingers so sore they would nearly bleed, aggravation would be an understatement, and a whole lot of frustration! But however, I have to give credit where credit is due, they both persevered until they actually got to the place that they could play very well. They finally became good enough to change the chords easily enough and we all started singing to the tune. Before we knew it........we were headed for the big times. (Yeah right)  We then discovered that my sister in law, Dorothy, wasn't a bad singer either, so..... Well, we decided that we would just make us up a quartet!  We sang and sang and practiced many many hours until we got pretty good, so WE thought!

Somehow the word got out in the area that we were 'singers' and so we were invited down to this local church to sing at one of their special services. Neither Don nor Billie were confident enough yet with their playing to bring their guitars out in front of a crowd of people, so we asked Bro Razor to help us out along with another preacher friend that we knew... aka...Jerry Coleman... Oh, yes, and nothing do, but we had to have dresses alike. ALL of the gospel singers in those days dressed alike or at least their clothing matched, and we HAD to look the part! So I volunteered to take on the job of making us the dresses. Looking back, they were the most hideous looking things I have ever seen. You know how in the movie 'Gone With The Wind' Scarlet yanks the curtains down off of the windows and makes herself a dress out of it????? Well, let me tell you, Katy Scarlett O'Hara had nothing over on us! Our dresses were floor length, bright yellow with BIG BLUE flowers all over and a big tie bow in the back....Don in his light blue leisure suit, we girls in our big blue flower dresses, Yep, WE LOOKED GOOD!!!  Don't remember the song we tried to sing, although I am sure that one of the other three could probably tell you, but needless to say... it was a disaster! Bro Razor, and Bro Jerry's guitars weren't tuned together. I ask you, have you ever tried to sing when the music was out of tune? IT AIN"T PRETTY! We couldn't even get started on our song..Our guitar players weren't together with each other, and neither one of them was in tune with us.... We finally just all gave up, the guitars stopped playing and we sang the song acappella. No telling how many shades of red our faces turned before that fiasco was over with. (Thinking I'm embarrassed just telling the story!) We swore we would never sing in public again.

Looking back on it, it is one of the most memorable times in my life. Yes, we did sing again many many times after that... They both learned to play guitar very well and we spent many, many nights, sitting up late, singing songs that were popular at the time. We would sing songs out of the old church hymn books, we found ourselves writing a few songs and singing those too, and then songs like " Touring that City".

Yes, I miss those days, I miss the pure innocence of those days... I miss my kids being small and falling asleep in the floor, while we four sang our hearts out. I miss the laughter, of... "I can't reach that key," and  "lets just skip that E chord",  and "Why can't I do that?"

As I cleaned the break room and these old gospel classics were being played on the radio, I thought to myself, "How did I get here? What happened to me? Where did I go?" and "Where did we go?" "Where did time go?" That was only yesterday........................



This story was written a few years ago. Yesterday morning we received news that our dear friend, our partner, our confidant, our alto singer, closed her eyes for the last time here on this earth.  She is no doubt in that place that we so often sang about, the one she wrote about, in that Land of Sweet Retreat....Here is a song written sometime in the late 1970's by none other than Billie Day Lee...entitled..."Land of Sweet Retreat"

I'm traveling through this troublesome world,
singing as I go
Something's about to happen,
I can feel it in my soul.
According to the scriptures,
a rapture there will be.
I'm crossing over Jordan,
to a Land of Sweet Retreat.

chorus
I'll be crossing any day now,
my redemption's drawing nigh
I'll keep my eyes upon the Lord,
toward the eastern sky.
For that sky is gonna burst wide open,
and all the glory there will be ,
beyond the clouds of Heaven,
to a Land of Sweet Retreat.

I'm going to be walking those green pastures,
and trodding those streets of gold,
Join with all the other saints,
marching around God's throne.
I'll smile the sweetest smile,
and live in perfect peace,
I'm crossing over Jordan,
to the Land of Sweet Retreat......

Yes, I'm crossing over Jordan
to that Land of Sweet Retreat....Sweet Retreat!!!!!