It's Post Time Once Again!

Oh, what a lovely 2 years I have had since my last posting. Leah got married right across the street from our house at our Brookberry Farm clubhouse and beautiful pavilion back in late fall, 2013. It was small, just as she wanted it to be, and perfect, and we love Ben, our new son-in-law, and his family. Matthew has just finished his second year of law school, and is interning in D.C. for the summer while his girlfriend is in Paris taking law classes. Randy works, which allows me to give back in all kinds of ways with my time and talents to the community that we love.

I have to tell you that I am back because my friend and partner in adventure, Gail,  has recently moved up to the Carolinas and we are reunited once again to experience life on a different plane than most. She came to see me last week and once again, God renewed our continuing saga of life with the church ladies. We were stranded and did not have anything to do but go on her Facebook page, which I will not join, because I would spend all day responding. One does not have to do that with a blog. Anyway, it was fun catching up with our mutual friends, and I thought it would be fun to cue them in as we used to have many stories for them. As you can see, I am somewhat long-winded, and she kept telling me no one would read a long post. "Au contraire," I thought. "Of course they would want to read it. It's FUNNY and REAL! And, it's US!" And what parts would she want me to leave out? I am going to try to figure out how to send that post to my blogspot, so I can expound on the story for closure to those of you awaiting the end. So...stay tuned! THANK YOU, LEAH, for telling me how to get back on after 2 years! Love you all!

Over A Year Later

Goodness, it has been over a year since my last post. I am amazed at how each day flies, then turns into weeks, months, seasons and years wafting into memories like vapor from a tea kettle. I have noticed during my absence, that the little computer mice have changed the format to the point I was not sure of how to even get started, so I hope this works, as my time is very valuable these days.

I am working on the book on Brookberry Farm with a new vengeance. I have found it is more fun to just write from the heart, rather than from reality...and it is also a lot easier. I have beaten myself up repeatedly about not having it finished after all this time, and lo and behold, just when I'm about to fire myself, some new tidbit surfaces that I would not have had in the book had I already had it published. There's a new freedom in allowing God and myself to work in His time, since I figure He is the true Inspirer and Giver of all good and perfect gifts. (James 1:17)

I have been transcribing my last interview with Bowman Gray, IV, all afternoon, and am delighted to re-experience what was said. I am terrified I will not be able to portray these family members in a way that truly exhibits who they really are and their contribution to Winston Salem history. I work from my third-story overlooking one of the three ponds on the property. Our property and the surrounding areas were pastures for the cows not so long ago. We have a wonderful view from our breakfast room of a hill that I have called, "Cow Hill" these past few years. Sweet Bill, their owner, puts them out to pasture there for the summer and we just enjoy them from afar. I wasn't too crazy about our warm winter this past year, but Bill did keep the cows out there in that particular field since he didn't have to brave harsh cold or snow, and I am grateful for that.

Usually I am distracted by the geese playing in the water and pooping weed seeds at the water's edge as I write, but these past few days there is a new, louder distraction. Two of our beautiful oak trees were struck by lightening last March 16, Leah's birthday. We were sitting at the breakfast table overlooking the pond, when all of a sudden there was a bright light and loud pop, which sent us all running to the center of the house. We ran outside as soon as it was safe and saw where the lightening had hit one of our larger oaks, then traveled through the ground to the largest one in the yard. We waited the winter to see if the tree/trees were dead or not. Unfortunately, we found out this spring, they were dying a slow death. Alas, we are in the process of having them taken down.

The tree service people are true North Carolina crackers. They work hard, rest hard and fish hard. One of them brings his 10 year old son, who reminds me of Opie on "Andy of Mayberry," because he comes every day with a fishing rod and empty bucket in tow. He has caught a "mess" of fish these past 3 days, and has no problem putting the worms that he has procured himself, on the hook. He also does everything else required with fishing. I told him yesterday that I thought he should put more water in the bucket, because I thought the fish would die before they got home, and he told me that's the way they like them...dead before they get home. Who am I to change old tried and true habits?

His sister came today, and she seems to enjoy catching the turtles. She told me they had them all figured out. I asked in what way and she informed me that you put a stick towards their mouths and they open them to bite the stick, so you pull our your hook and grab them by the tail to turn them away. Makes sense to me, other than I will not touch one of them. (I figured I didn't need to inform her of my childhood knowledge of the dangers of a snapping turtle not letting go until it thunders. She seems to have surmounted that obstacle and proven my wise counsel as not an end in itself.)

I have much more to catch you up with all that has transpired this past year, but I don't want to test your eyes too much, so stay tuned.

I AM the PRESIDENT's MOM

Matthew told us at Christmas he had decided he was not going to run for the SGA presidency in the spring at his university. We breathed a sigh of relief and decided to finally look ahead toward law school. It was short-lived. We got a call at 1:30 in the morning shortly after winter semester had begun, and he told us of how his SGA leaders and supporters really wanted him and another qualified young man named Adam to run for the president and vice president positions, respectively. We told him we'd support him no matter what he decided and he paused and said, "NO, MOM, you don't get it. I know you'll always support me, but I need yours and Dad's advice!" So we stayed on the phone until 2:30 discussing the pros and cons, then told him we'd sleep on it and get back to him the next day. We should have talked until we couldn't talk anymore, as I don't think either of us got any sleep that night.

I don't think he would have made the decision to run had his friends not shouldered a lot of the responsibility of planning and implementing an election on such a huge scale as this was. They came through like no tomorrow and next thing you know, we are on our way down to Florida to help them campaign; at Matthew's request I might add.

Campaigning was from Monday through Wednesday at 5:00. There were areas that were declared neutral and the rest of the school was open to passing out palm cards and give-aways. It was amazing how both sides stepped up to the plate declaring their platforms, colors, and strategies. All four candidates knew each other and were well-qualified to do the jobs. It finally came down to who got the most votes. I know personally, that there were many students who were not going to vote because they just didn't care. That's where experience came in. We knew that voting is a true privilege and a chance for one's voice to be heard. It was so wonderful speaking one-on-one with our future movers and shakers of the world. These kids were so polite and driven to succeed in all their endeavors. I left shaking my head and praying for them...that there will be enough jobs for all the various engineers to have; that those who opt to stay in school because they are afraid to try to get a job in this economy will have chosen wisely, and that those who will take menial jobs until something comes open in their fields, will have no regrets. More than anything, I was impressed with the directness and the politeness of the students. Their parents would be proud to see their dedication...especially those who helped with the campaigns.

The time came for the announcement and someone from the Board of Elections read the referendums that had passed and finally we heard, "With 61% of the votes..." and Matthew and Adam had won! The other side was gracious, as was ours, and now I feel I will be on my knees for the next year, intercessing on their behalf. It's a huge job, but they are certainly up for it. And that's how I became...the First Mom!

The Man of La Mancha...Paul Scofield

With the passing of Elizabeth Taylor who some may not know was born in Great Britain, I am reminded of another great actor who haled from there--Paul Scofield. He is most notably known for starring in the play, "A Man For All Seasons," but there is a long list of other great works he accomplished in the world of theater, or "THE A TUH" as I like to say now. He passed away 3 years ago this month and I feel I should pay a tribute to this shy, kind, man's memory.

My friend Susie and I were in our mid-twenties and fellow teachers out in San Diego back in the late seventies and early eighties. Because we could, we decided to go to Europe for a 3 week tour that started in England and included jaunts to France, Switzerland, Italy, Greece and a tour of a few of the Greek Isles. We flew into Gatwick Airport while the Tube and double decker buses were on strike and had no idea that public transportation played such an important part of life there. Here we are, two Alice in Wonderland's, wondering what in the world do we do next after falling through the rabbit hole? We knew to follow everyone else to get our luggage, then we followed them to the light at the end of the tunnel and bought train tickets, then stood there wondering about which train we should get on. A conductor, who had probably seen just about every kind of tourist there is, picked up our bags and shoved them into a private compartment where we tumbled in, the doors with a red cross on them were slammed shut and off we went.

In retrospect, Susie and I must have looked like two little children, giggling at what had just transpired and verbally wondering about where we were going to end up by day's end. The man across from us just rattled his paper louder as he held it up disguising his whole upper body. That's all I needed to muster up the courage to say, "Excuse me, sir, are you from here?" He peeked from behind his paper and said, "Why, yes, I am." It didn't take him long to realize he was our new and only source of what to do while we were in Europe. He folded up that paper and sat there in his tweeds and took great joy in telling us all the things we needed to see while we were in England. At one point, I asked him if he was a teacher because he knew so much about EVERYTHING! The twinkle in his eyes made us just warm all over, because he responded, "No, but my father was a teacher," and then he named other family members who were teachers. We kind of felt sorry for him because he hadn't followed in the family's academian path, since he sure looked the part. (In fact, we told him he reminded us of Mr. Chips and later referred to him as that when we talked about our time on the train.)

During the course of our conversation, he narrowed in on the theater. He pronounced it as the English do, "THE A TUH." He knew where we were staying and suggested that we walk to one of the local theatuhs the next day to see one of the many plays being offered at that time. "The Man of La Mancha," the story of Don Quixote, which he pronounced "KWIKSOT" was one that caught our attention, so we asked about that and he just relished answering each and every question. Our destination arrived too fast and by the time we knew it, the train was stopping and we had just enough time to gather our bags, look up and see that our precious Mr. Chips was gone after a quick adieu. At one point in our conversation, I looked at the window and asked if we were in a first aide car. He really twinkled at that and said that the red crosses signified that they were private cars. We hurriedly apologized and asked if he wanted us to leave. By then, we were all having such fun, who would entertain such a thought?

Well, our day went downhill from there. We had to wait in long lines for a taxi and everyone around us was irate to the point of meanness. Susie and I couldn't wait to get to our hotel, which did not have a reservation for us once we did. We were transported away from our tour group and didn't get settled in until bedtime. We were near tears, lying a foot from each other in our cramped room and even more cramped twin beds in the dark, bemoaning our welcome to England, and were reminded that we did have Mr. Chips as a first indicator, so not all was lost upon our arrival. We fantasized about being invited to his house with a straw roof and sitting in front of his fireplace with his family sharing schoolroom stories, while having tea and crumpets. It was a beautiful picture to hold on to at the end of a rough day.

As Scarlett O'Hara says, "tomorrow's another day," and it was. The sun was shining, we were rested, and we decided to take Mr. Chip's advice and walk the forever walk to the theatuh where "The Man of La Mancha" was playing. We allowed ourselves a lot of time so we could eat at a pub and explore en route. We got to the theatuh of choice about 30 minutes ahead of everyone else, so had time to read the playbills of present and future presentations. As I read about Don Quixote, I stared at the lead actor's picture, who was Paul Scofield, one of Britain's leading actors of his time. I called Susie over and said, "Does that look like Mr. Chips to you?" We both looked even harder and burst out laughing. The joke was on us! We could not wait to get into the theatuh to see if it really was our beloved Mr. Chips.

We waited with anticipation as the curtain rose, and who came out on that tall wooden rocking horse, but Mr. Chips himself, beautifully disguised as the windmill tilting Don Quixote. We didn't want the play to end because, up to that point, he was the only good thing about our trip. I told Susie, "Let's go see if we can go backstage and see him." She wasn't too keen on the idea, so I settled with sending him a note from a playbill:

"Dear Mr. Chips...that's what we call you now. We can't thank you enough for referring us to the 'the a tuh' and Don Quixote, pronounced KWISKOT." I wrote a bit more, but to this day, I wish we could have hugged his neck and thanked him personally. We have often wondered if we had been the topic of his dinner conversation with his family, as he had and has been with ours.

Here is a little more information that Susie and I can confirm firsthand, but we are thankful that he shed his private demeanor for two young and crazy school teachers from the USA. His memory is tucked into our hearts in a place that holds him near and dear. (Here are excerpts taken from the his obituary found online.)

Slide Show

A Man for all Seasons

Related

Times Topics: Paul Scofield

By BENEDICT NIGHTINGALE

Published: March 21, 2008

Paul Scofield, the acclaimed British actor who created the indelible role of Sir Thomas More in Robert Bolt’s play “A Man for All Seasons”and then repeated it on film in 1966 in an Oscar-winning performance, died Wednesday near his home in southern England. He was 86. His death, at a hospital, was announced by his agent, Rosalind Chatto. He had leukemia.

Mr. Scofield was regarded by both critics and his peers as one of the greatest actors in the English-speaking world, one who brought freshness and power to Hamlet, King Lear and many other classic roles. But he might have been better known to the public if he had been less withdrawn. He seldom gave interviews and never appeared on television talk shows, explaining that he hated chatting about himself and found his craft difficult to discuss. A shy, reclusive man, he refused to accept the knighthood that was offered him in the 1960s.

His last stage performance, in Ibsen’s “John Gabriel Borkman” at the National Theater in 1996, was a critical triumph. He then slipped out of public view, going for long walks in the Sussex hills, baking bread at home and occasionally visiting the Scottish island of Mull, where his daughter, Sarah, lived. He said he had come to a point where he found little work that attracted him. And then there was his native caution. “As you get older,” he said, “the more you know, so the more nervous you become. The risks are much bigger.”

He became so used to being described in the press as a private person that he once joked, “I half-expect people to phone me and say, ‘Hello, is that Paul Scofield, the very private person?’ ”

Despite his prodigious gifts and international fame, when the curtain fell, Mr. Scofield simply hopped the commuter train back to his family. He did not often mix socially with his fellow actors. At home, only 10 miles or so from his birthplace, was his wife, the former Joy Parker, an actress he married in 1943; a daughter, Sarah, and a son, Martin. They all survive him.

Spring has SPRUNG!

We went away to Florida for a few days and came home and spring had sprung in Winston Salem, N C. What happened? I don't even remember the tips peeking out from under the leaves and being drawn to watch daily as they grew into flowers. We came home and lo and behold there are full-blown crocus and daffodils everywhere! I feel like I've missed out on something. I can't tell you what I have been doing that I missed those first peeks, but I have gotten back into writing the book about Brookberry Farm. In fact, I went to lunch with Beverly Hamel today, the writer of the historical book on Bethania. We are going to meet monthly and encourage each other to keep on keeping on with our writing. We met at the Olde Salem Tavern and had a lovely meal of quiche and salad, then off we trotted to the Moravian Archives building, where I happily researched the Moravian diaries for information on Matthew Brooks, who was the local tax collector back in the 1700s. He supposedly conducted business from this property we call home and was a friend to the Moravians by all accounts thus far. I've heard differently, but do not have the documentation at this time to refute that comment. The diaries are riddled with comments about Matthew Brooks collecting grain, corn and property taxes. I thought times were simpler then, but taxes are taxes, so I guess it's wise not to assume too much.

I noticed as I sat in my office upstairs, the sound of crows cawing outside my window. It sounds like fall, but the chill is definitely a spring chill as opposed to a fall chill. I think I am the only person in Winston Salem saying, "I'm not ready for spring! We didn't suffer enough!" It truly has been a 3 month summer, fall and winter these past 9 months. We have not had an early spring since we came here 3 years ago, so I am praying that there will not be another snow. I read in the Moravian diaries today that they had a snow in March and all the cherry blossoms were frozen prematurely. We had a late snow last year, but I don't remember it messing up too many plants. Could just be selective memory. Well, happy spring to all of you, and fyi...if you didn't plant your bulbs earlier...then buy the ones flowering in the stores right now and plant them in the ground after the flowers die...then wait until the leaves turn brown before cutting them back, and you will have nice flowers next year. I promise you...it's worth the wait!

Twenty Five Years Ago

The 25th anniversary of the Challenger explosion took place 3 days ago. It's very common for all of us to share what we were doing and where we were when certain incidents happened, either close to home, or affecting the world. I would have to think this one affected the world.

I was teaching 3rd grade in San Diego, California at the time and everyone was talking about the crew of the Challenger and how one special teacher would be chosen to be a part of the NASA Teacher in Space Project . A call for teacher/applicants went out across the nation. I chose not to pursue the trip into space, but my sister-in-law, Connie did. She was even called back for a second interview.

A teacher named Christa McAuliffe was chosen from more than 11,000 applicants to participate and she was scheduled to become the first teacher in space. She was going to teach two classes while out there, and my class and the rest of the school waited in anticipation. The morning of the take-off, there was a dry wind blowing across the playground as the students lined up to come into the room. One of them reached down to pull a Weekly Reader from her leg and brought it over for me to see, as this story had made the front page. I asked her to bring it into the class and we would read it together.

Our habit was for the children to put their things away, then come and sit at my feet on a rug in front of the room and we would talk about our plans for the day after taking roll, saying the Pledge of Allegiance, and singing a patriotic song. This day was no different up to that point. I showed them the picture of Mrs. McAuliffe in her space suit and one of the children asked me why I hadn't applied. I looked at them and laughed and said, "Because I knew I'd win!" They didn't understand what I was talking about, but I did get a smile out of them nonetheless.

We started the day with our reading groups and we were about halfway through when the reading specialist walked through the door with a handful of papers with a single sentence typed on it: "We regret to announce that the Space Shuttle Challenger has exploded and there are no survivors." Everything went into slow motion from there. The children were watching me and I was doing everything I could to keep from crying. I knew I had to say something, so I read the note I had just been handed. I heard a snicker in the back of the room, and it upset me. I then told them all, "Before you say anything...just remember that someone has just lost their mother, father, sister, or brother." It probably wasn't the best thing to say to a group of 3rd graders, but it was all I could think of. My heart was breaking for those families who had to have watched their loved one's last moments.

I don't know how I got through the rest of the reading groups. I rushed to the teacher's lounge once the children went out to recess, and there I saw the explosion being replayed over and over. It brought tears to my eyes and a sadness to my heart that I had never known before and have not had since. It stayed with me the whole day and I can honestly say that was the worst day of my life up to that point.

I know there were other members on that shuttle and recently learned that one of the astronauts, Ronald McNair, graduated from NC A & T University in Greensboro, NC. My heart goes out to those who have to relive the sadness every anniversary, but even more so because it was so public. I hope that people console those left by letting them know it touched many of us and that our hearts broke with theirs that day.

A Season of HAPPINESS

I have had such a blessed Christmas, and those blessings just keep producing a great big Happy Ball inside of me just like when it snows and you take a little bit of snow and start rolling it in the snow and it just keeps getting bigger and bigger. I feel so blessed to have the children we have. They made me proud as we headed over to the Moravian Home Church in downtown Winston Salem an hour and a half early and not complaining one drop. Aunt Connie was up....Randy's sister from Florida whom I love dearly, and whose husband was in Africa but was here is spirit. He sent red beautiful roses to remind us that his love was sent from afar and he was thinking of us. We missed him, but were comforted by our early Christmas with him, tree and all, right before Thanksgiving here in Winston Salem.

The Moravian Love Feast service was so beautiful. (Thanks, Bo.) We got the very last seats for 4 and sat 5 at the very back of the church. We sat on wooden school chairs with one cheek on each chair and loved it. They obviously still have the hanging of the greens, an olde English tradition, and fresh greenery was strung in huge clusters from the walls to the center of the ceilings, as was the front of the pulpit area. I felt like a veteran this year at the feast. I didn't look down, feeling guilty because I was eating and drinking in church, and I made it a point to savor every sip of that sweet coffee and sweet roll in the Name of the Lord. I felt loved, LOVED, and wanted to just hug everyone I saw on the way out...until I saw what I thought were carolers outside. Church members were explaining what had just taken place and my first thought was, "I wish they'd quit talking to the carolers so they would sing." It was snowing and the church bells were ringing and I felt like I was in the movie, "It's a Wonderful Life." As I walked by "the carolers" I realized they were Quakers or Amish and for whatever reason, had found their way to this little piece of history in the center of Winston Salem on a cold snowy night. What blessed my heart even more was to look over at the kids and see them singing the traditional hymns of their past. (We are not a musically inclined family, so this was huge to me, as I always tell them, "You'd better learn all the church songs down here as we will probably be singing them in heaven.")

I cannot believe that I got to make so many wonderful gifts this year. I made boxwood wreathes from Brookberry Farm English boxwood....really from England, but not exactly from the farm...it worked; homemade gift enclosures and cards; food and I even painted a Brookberry Farm ornament for the ornament exchange at the clubhouse right before Christmas. It only took me a year to paint, and I had to take a picture of it and the person who "WON" it. She was a new resident and she was so happy to commemorate her first Christmas here with a hand-painted ornament. It was just another thing that made me HAPPY! There's so much more. I really am once again reminded that "the simplest things remind us of all that we have to be thankful for."

Happy New Year! May you be blessed with Happiness the year through!

Catch Up Time

Goodness it has been a whirlwind few months with a Red Hot & Blue restaurant finally joining the ranks of the corporate offices here in Winston Salem. It's a slow process, this opening up a restaurant business, and it is not for the faint-hearted. I never knew how involved the whole process was until now. "Out of sight, out of mind," has been my response to those who have asked about the business and I was content in saying that up to this point.

The process from start to finish took about 70 days to reconvert an existing restaurant. It was so much fun watching the changes from day to day, and now it's neat watching the new relationships gel. Randy is loving getting to know their staff and returning customers. He is truly in his element. It is hard for me to stand on the sidelines because I really am a change agent and teacher. I want to jump in and say, "Let's try this! How about that?" Don't think I don't do that, and they have all been very gracious, but I really want to get in there and be in charge of the "classroom," because I really do see all of our lives as one big interaction with each other. I see my life as a change agent for GOOD.

It's very interesting how my life has taken such an interesting turn. I told you about the women's retreat I did back in September. Well, a new invitation came out of that for me to speak at another Lutheran church over near Greensboro as "The Mystery Guest Speaker" at their yearly stewardship campaign. Their Evite invitation was so beautiful and they had so many wonderful things planned. I couldn't wait to hear "The Mystery Guest Speaker" by the time I got there. I left on cloud 9. They laughed in the right places and nodded and "Amened" just like I'm used to with the Baptists. And of course, the food was plentiful and delicious. The pastor said that everything revolves around food with the Lutherans. So help me, I thought that was just a Baptist saying. I'll bet the Catholics and Methodists say the same thing, along with all the other denominations.

THE BOOK is always looming on the horizon. Leah made the comment as Randy and I were en route home from the dinner that I needed to see the book as a history lesson in the making for the neighborhood, because teaching is what I do best. She's right. I'm starting to get excited as my time is "freed up" for a while. I interviewed Lilian the cook yesterday and cannot wait to try some of her recipes.

We had a wonderful Thanksgiving at my sister Linda's house in Jonesboro, GA. Some of our cousins were there from our childhood. It's always fun to be reunited with my sisters and their families...add our first and second cousins in and you have a true THANKSGIVING, because that is what it is all about. We pictured our mothers smiling from above.

My sister Scarlette, and our second cousin, Lena, are into family history, and have both joined DAR and the Manakin Huguenot Society. Here's what I pulled up as an explanation:

The Huguenot Society of the Founders of Manakin In the Colony of Virginia

History: Huguenots began coming to Virginia as early as 1620. In 1700-1701, five ships arrived at the mouth of the James River, then the York and the Rappahannock rivers, east of present-day Richmond, Virginia. French Huguenots, having fled religious persecution, had lived in England and Ireland and done military services for King William. They were granted lands in the New World for a permanent home where they had the freedom to worship as they pleased. West of Richmond, many founded a colony on the site of a village deserted by the Monacan Indians.This is a society of the descendants of that colony and French Protestants who came to Virginia before 1786 [see history of the society]. The society headquarters and library are located beside the Manakin Episcopal Church on the original King William Parish glebe land in Manakintown.

Welcome "Gator," my newest follower and cousin from where else but Florida.

I've "Birded" You ALL to Death!

Oh my word. I just found out my widget is missing. I hope I didn't hit the wrong button and upgrade, because I am perfectly satisfied with my widget as it is. (You know, that's the little moving thing on my blog to the right that states how many hits I have and the country they are coming from.) I love that thing. It just makes me happy...especially when I see the number has gone from 1 to 2 for any given country. I wonder if it's a new person who stumbled upon Brookberry Girl, or if it's a return reader. Either way, I'm grateful for the audience.

My sister Scarlette from Atlanta obviously is taking my advice and freeing herself up a bit. I sent out a notice to my sisters that I was up and writing again after a long summer hiatus. She requested my blogger information earlier, which I don't recall her ever doing, and commented when I asked, that it was all about birds. She's right. I have shown quite a preoccupation with the birds around here. I think it's because I never really noticed anything but the Bob Whites and eagles down in Florida. I was just too busy. I have often repeated myself in regard to the birds, because every time I noticed something new about them, I just added that to what I already knew...just in case there was a new reader who would not take the time to go back to previous blogs. (It's the teacher in me...and yes, this is a repeat...EVERY SITUATION IS A TEACHING/LEARNING situation. I just can't help it.) So, I am going to try to become more DIVERSE in my future blogs. Our children have said more than once that they are worried about me and the birds. So please excuse me for this short entry today. I must go and feed the empty bird feeders. Hope you are having the most wonderful day!

I am so BLESSED!

I have had the most wonderful Spirit-filled weekend. It started off with a book-signing of Bowman Gray, IV's newly released book, "As a Man Thinketh," by James Allen, but with Bo's photographs.

Click on this link and you can learn more and even order an autographed copy! As A Man Thinketh, By James Allen (With my photogrpahs) It is very inspirational visually, spiritually, emotionally and intellectually. Randy and I are very proud of him. I really admire a person who is willing to take a risk on trying something NEW, rather than succumbing to failure before they are even out of the gate. I hope I will persevere and be the same example.

I started Saturday off with getting up quite early for me, 6 AM, to get ready to go and facilitate a women's retreat for a local Lutheran church. We left shortly after 7 and started promptly at 9. I can honestly say, I have never had the time or took the time to prepare as well as I did for this particular retreat. I am certified by Dr. Mels Carbonell, to conduct seminars on Discovering Your Spiritual Gifts and Behavioral Blends. I've facilitated MANY of these, but this one was different. I've never spoken outside my Baptist denomination. I learned so much in helping me understand how alike and somewhat different we are in our beliefs. I hope I can do more like this so that my knowledge will help me in meeting others where they are in their particular faith walks. The women were so open to what I had to say, but more importantly, they were so excited about discovering just a bit of how their SHAPE helps point them to service within the context of their church. (SHAPE is from Rick Warren's acrostic in "The Purpose Driven Church," and stands for spiritual gifts, heart, abilities, personality and experiences.) One never knows until after a seminar if there is fruit from their labor or not, but it was very apparent after I'd given them a homework assignment to take specific Scripture, and then use given tools to portray to the rest of the group how these things could be used to convey their understanding of what they had read. Their work was thorough; creative; beautiful and spoke truth...all I needed to know to see that they were open to the Holy Spirit's work within them. I have great excitement for their church and cannot wait to see the fruit that will be borne individually and as a group working together in ministry.

I got home and proceeded to set off the alarm next door because I thought I was supposed to take in their mail and papers since they were gone for the weekend. You can imagine my wonderful peace from the retreat being shattered by a woman's voice echoing throughout the house that there was an intruder "at the front door," then in the hallway. She had far-seeing eyes, because she followed me from room to room and back out the door as I ran next door to scream to Randy, "Call _____! I've set off their alarm and they're going to call the police!" I returned to hear a small voice asking for a dispatch to the house. I picked up the phone and started yelling over the Alarm Lady's VOICE, "Stop...don't call the police! I'm a neighbor who made a mistake!" I got her attention and finally composed myself and told her the whole story. I have learned that it is best to let them see your wacky personality, because they are a lot more open to chalking it up to stupidity, rather than your calm rationalization, because that can sometimes be a sign of calculated craziness.

She very sensitively told me that they had to call the police unless I could come up with the code, which I could not. So I screamed for Randy to keep looking for that number. He finally came over with my cell phone, punched their number, and there's our house number showing up as an incoming call. So, in desperation, I did what any humbled person would do in this situation, I asked the sweet lady if she would call the homeowners so the police wouldn't come. I had nothing to lose and it was worth a try. She was seeing the real me under stress and she could obviously relate... AND...she did! I tell you...never under estimate the power of humiliation and human empathy. They sometimes go hand in hand and produce great things.

I fed the cat and fish while I was waiting for the result I wanted, just to prove to myself that I had nothing to worry about except for the possibility of re-enacting it all for the police when and if they arrived. I was just hoping they would be as sensitive as the lady on the other end of the phone, and that I was not going to be led away in hand-cuffs for all the neighbors to see. I really wasn't up to explaining anything, especially to my Bible study ladies. Over all this contemplation, the lady's ALARM voice followed me everywhere screaming to the world that I had just entered another room and was moving into the next area. The lady on the phone finally said with such empathy, "I've talked to the owner and the police weren't called," much to my relief.

When it was all said and done, I heard from my neighbor and she so sweetly apologized for nothing she did, as I profusely apologized for what I did do. I reset the alarm as she told me what to do and then I walked calmly back home and stated, "I'm home!" On a more serious note, you might want to check out this specific alarm company. They are advertised on TV all the time and it works just like they say it does. What self-respecting thief is going to stick around while THE VOICE from above is screaming where you are at any given time? I hope you all have a wonderfully blessed and calm day. I know I am.

It's Catch Up Time!

I should have been an ornithologist. I had no idea birds could be so interesting. You are not going to believe this, but we had another nest of mourning doves just fly the coup yesterday! We thought it was unusual for birds to mate twice in a year, but three different times! (Not sure if it's the same mom or not...I hope not. That's a lot of work taking care of those babies for so long.)

Here are just a few patterns I've observed since it is right outside our front window and we keep the shutters open just where we can see them and they can't see us.

1. Mom and Dad scout for the nest together.

2. Mom flies back and forth until the big day.

3. Dad hangs around for a little while after the big day, then disappears.

4. Mom just sits there until they are hatched, then she sits on top of them some more. (It is so cute to see their little heads sticking our from under her thick down.)

5. They stay in their nest for about 3 weeks, then one day dad will show up again and he and mom will go sit on the roof for awhile and watch them. (There is always one that will venture as close to the edge of the hanging basket as it can get without falling...it's obviously a boy, and the "sister" just sits demurely in the middle.)

6. Usually mom and dad are making cooing sounds from down below telling them what to do, but we didn't hear a peep this time.

7. This group was a little more unusual than the last inhabitants. I saw mom and dad down below on the porch, and walked away for a few minutes. I went back and there was only one baby in the nest...all day! I saw dad up on the roof next door, but rather than watching the baby, he was looking the other way -- worriedly, I might add. I wondered if the boy went a little wayward and flew too early, or if mom was just giving him private flying lessons. We'll never know, but mom and both babies were tucked safely back in the nest by the end of the day, only to have disappeared by the next morning. Mom and dad will come by a time or two...kind of nostalgically to me, and then I will just have to guess if the next group will be one of them or not.

6. I clean up all the dead flowers from the basket, and the mess from below and we start all over again.

On another note, Red, Hot & Blue is open for business, we just haven't had our Grand Opening yet. We're still in the "practicing" stage, but Randy and John are meeting so many wonderful people who are telling others, so it is just snowballing for lunch. Dinner is still slow, but hopefully it will catch on as time and tasting goes on.

I have had the most productive week. (I wish my writing time could be this productive.) I have spent the week preparing for a women's retreat I am facilitating for a local Lutheran church. I am speaking on "Discovering Your Giftedness," and will help these ladies identify where they can best serve in the church. We also discuss personality types and how they help us to better understand ourselves and each other. I am quite excited. I don't think I've ever planned anything so exact in my life. It's quite refreshing to have had the time to do it RIGHT for a change. Next week my friend Susan and I paint pigs on the back fence at RH&B, then I have until the holidays to write, with a little trip to FL thrown in. I'll keep you posted. In the meantime, if you're local and reading this, head on over to Red Hot & Blue for a taste of the dry rub ribs...they are not your typical NC barbecue, but they are deliciously different. (They're located over on Deacon Blvd. off of University Blvd.) Everyone raves about the potato salad, so give it a try too. Enjoy!

Labor Day is over...

It was bittersweet going to the pool for the last time this weekend. I made myself get into the frigid water one last time so I could be reminded why the pool was closing. (OK, maybe it wasn't frigid, but it was very cold for a Florida girl who waited until after the 4th of July to get into the pool back in the pre-NC days.) There's something sad about a beautiful pool sitting there unoccupied for 9 months once the doors are locked for the season. During the summer I knew I could go when I wanted...now I have no choice. I wish they would freeze it in the winter so we could all go ice skating, but even our ponds have not frozen here since we have relocated. The one near the pool froze near the shore this past winter, and I pictured myself ice-skating around the edge of the pond, but I stepped onto it with one foot and it dipped, so my next thought was of my dying of hypothermia because no one thought to look for me there in my time of need. I would hope the ice skates still tied to my feet would paint the picture needed to explain how I had met my demise and everyone would say, "She went doing something she wanted to do."

On the otherhand, it is quite enjoyable to watch the geese fly in and go skittering across the top of the ice on their bottoms. Speaking of the geese, we have another loner out in the yard. It must have been very serious, because there is not another goose on the pond. (Remember, they are very respectful of each other during their mourning times.) I even broke my rule and fed this one bread. Randy loves to feed the fish in the evening, so we go out and they all just swim up as close as they can get. The goose came right up to us, so how could we not feed it? I don't cry anymore when I see them. I hope I have not become calloused.

I'm off to write. I have to stay home all day as I await mattresses being delivered. It was a sad mistake for the McCann family that all this bed bug hysteria came out all over the news while Leah was visiting last week. Needless to say, she was UP on all her mattress trivia since she had worked at a hotel at one point in her career, and proceeded to check all the dates on the two oldest mattresses. She reminded us that after a specific period of time, the mattress doubles in size due to human sweat and dust mites. She painted a pretty gruesome picture and it worked. We both began to itch and scratch. Lucky for us, anyplace that sells mattresses has a Labor Day Mattress sale. I guess they think that if we are celebrating working, we may as well make sure we get a good night's sleep so we can get up day after day and head out to labor some more.

We hit every mattress establishment we could find. They all had their spiels ready and we listened to them all. Of course, I tried each one, but Leah wouldn't do anything but sit on the side, which they told us served no purpose. One has to lie down to get the full effect. She finally did try one out prostrate on the bed, and that was because it had the most potential, and that's all it took. We got home, delayed getting into the shower so as not to foster our paranoia, and I finally decided I couldn't go to bed wondering if I had picked up lice or worse. I would never forgive myself if we had to get rid of our Sterns and Foster just because I didn't take a shower. The final straw was seeing the men in their bed bug preventative suits spraying heat of 130 degrees and higher on the mattresses and carpets to kill the bed bugs on TV. I came out with wet hair and that's all Leah needed to be affirmed that it's better to be safe than sorry.

Yes, I did say mattresses. She checked the date on the guest room bed, and sadly it was over the required time to keep a mattress. Oh, well, they were on sale, AND it will be a long time (we hope) before we have to do mattress shopping again, which I acquaint to buying a car. You never know how good the product is until you get it home...and then it's too late to do anything about it if you don't like it. (The mattress people will take them back after a few days, but it's just too much trouble in our opinion.) So, for those of you have been here or are coming, you've got something to look forward to...a better night's sleep. In the meantime, keep laboring so that you will be worn out by bedtime and can wake up the next day to do it all again with a good attitude.

Winston Salem Is Getting the Blues...

Red Hot & Blue that is. Yes, it's true. A wonderful opportunity came our way and here we are preparing to open our first restaurant in the triad, probably in the next few weeks. We are a part of the Wake Forest renovation project off of University and Deacon Blvd. (It's in the old Goobers for those of you who know that area.)

Richard Bloyer, one of the managers from D. C. who has an art background, came to paint our Blue's guitar playing pigs over the fireplace in the new restaurant two weeks ago. I didn't even have to beg to help! I became his apprentice and took my place over the mantle and VOILA...people have to take a second look to determine if the bricks are real or not. I really enjoyed working with him. Once he got home, he sent me two books on how to paint murals. That is a true teacher...encouraging the fledgling artist to try her wings...which I did.

It was Richard's last day and a group of workers from down the street came in and walked right over to us. One said, "Do you two work alone, or do you work for these guys?" I smiled and said, "I work alone, but he works for these guys," as I pointed to Richard. They asked if we'd be willing to paint palm trees on the back of a building they had just painted. Richard looked at me and said, "Let's go take a look." We did and the next thing I know, I have been commissioned to paint palm trees on the back of this building." Richard left that day and I was left alone to myself because I had said one too many times, "I can do that."

I felt confident as I took my supplies and laid them at the back door, where I thought they would be out of the way. My new jar of paint thinner didn't last long. It only took one hard bang of someone walking out for it to reach the jar and turn it over. I just smiled and chalked it up to inexperience. The next thing you know, I have the Roto-Rooter type guy pumping out the sewage system only 1 foot away from where I was supposed to be painting. Other painters, electricians,a telephone cable worker, supervisors and a whole bunch of other workers doing various jobs, are all around me. I don't have a problem painting the stem of the tree, but when it came time to paint the fronds, everyone has an opinion. I painted over those stems 5 times before I finally called my friend Marsha to come and help me. She got there and we whipped those fronds out in no time flat. It took her 2 hours to do what I had been trying to do in 4 hours. I considered this a lesson learned and went back to finishing the pigs at Red Hot & Blue.

Last Monday came and I dropped my friend Gail off downtown to take care of some business, then I went and picked up some food for Ella and I, and we sat on her front porch and had a picnic until I had to pick up Gail. I took her by to meet Ella and then off we went to see the restaurant in progress. In the midst of all of this, I called Randy to see how things were coming, and lo and behold, he tells me that the painters are looking for me again. I figured they didn't like their palm trees and wanted their money back, but it was just the opposite...they wanted me to paint palm trees on the new dumpster walls they had just built AND a palm tree on the door. I am a runner and I wanted to run, but if they thought I could do it, I was willing to give it one more try. When I saw the guy who hired me, he said, "Here's my girlfriend, " so I knew I must have made an impression of some kind. I agreed to do it. The palm fronds look like fountains, but I have heard no complaints as of today. To tell you the truth, it may be a work in progress. It may look totally different from week to week as the mood hits me. My sister Pam said she can't wait to take a driving tour of all the stuff I've painted in Winston Salem. I don't have the heart to tell her it will just be a walking tour of two places. Maybe I need to get busy on some graffiti.

I will try to keep you posted on our progress as we head toward completion. In the meantime, call me if you ever need someone to remind you that you sometimes just need to say "NO," when someone asks you to do something you really aren't qualified to do. On the other hand, it could just be the beginning of a great adventure.

For more pictures of the restaurant, and me painting the pigs, visit Red Hot and Blues facebook page at http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=202886&id=43579759913

It's a New Day!

Did any of you know that birds mate at least twice? Once in the spring and once in the summer? I did not know that. We have had double occupancy this year in our front porch baskets and trees. We left for that week to Florida and came back and there were nests EVERYWHERE! We just had the new Mourning Doves fly the coup this past weekend. I'm getting really good now at recognizing the signs. Dad starts out being a great dad after the birth of the babies, then he pretty much leaves the rest to Mom. Next thing you know, he's absentee...shows up sometimes. I always knew when because he'd be down below on the porch making that sad mournful call. The mom appeared to be drawn to him again, because she'd go visit and the teenagers would be propping themselves on the edge to test their bravery. Mom eventually starts leaving for short periods of time, that progresses to hours, then she's gone for the day. Before you know it...they're gone with nothing to show for it all, but the mess down below and 2 new birds in the sky.

It's been a while since I last wrote. My birthday has come and gone and it was the best yet. Our children convinced Randy that I need an iphone because anyone can use one and I need to be current in the 2010s. I am amazed at how easy this phone is. The best feature is that it has voice command. I can just punch the little button and say, "Call Matthew," and it does! I've never seen a cell phone do that. Speaking of Matthew...he loves toys. He stood in line all night while we were down in Florida to get the newest iphone IV. His actually has the video where you can see the person if they have a compatible phone. Our friend Michael, told me that you can actually put on a application (Aps, they call it for short.) where you can just bump the phones and they trade each other's numbers! Can you imagine? What will they think of next?

I just want to update you on the book. I am writing once again with a vengeance. I am almost through with the toughest chapter, which has been holding me back, because I wasn't sure how to execute it, but I feel I have a clearer picture and I am just free writing. The information just flows as opposed to writing word for quoted word. I would love to have a completion date, but I know me, so we will just wait and see.

I would like to welcome all of my visitors from other countries, even if they somehow made a wrong hit on a key to get to me. Go back to the very first posts, because they certainly are the most humorous. Sisters and friends, hit the follower, BG4, if you want to see a beautiful slide show of Maine. Make sure your sound is on and set aside about 35 minutes for uninterrupted pleasure. It's how I started my day and it just made me HAPPY!

"This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it!" Psalm 118:24.

A Milestone Birthday

(This was written July 6th. I'm just now getting around to finishing it.) Today is Randy's 60th birthday...a milestone in that he has never been 60 before. I'm sure it will be a turning point as all these 0-ending birthdays seem to be. We started the celebration off by attending a wedding up near Hershey, PA, our old stomping grounds, and when I say old, I mean right after we were married almost 36 years ago. That is where Randy had his first long-term adult job as ass't mgr. of foods at Hershey Park. I got my teaching degree from Elizabethtown College and taught 3rd grade down in the bomb shelter of Londonderry Elementary School overlooking the cooling towers of Three Mile Island. We made good friends while there and it was bittersweet seeing our children that were not yet born during that time, all grown up with one of them getting married.

We stayed at a bed and breakfast and it was just beautiful with the horses neighing over the fences and the different delicious breakfast aromas wafting up to our rooms every day. I will get you the name of the place so you can stop and spend a little time with Frank and Caroline when passing through. Wyndom something I think.

Anyway, I failed to mention the kids flew up and off we went. We got home, spent one night and drove them back down to FL to start the next leg of celebrating. Randy and I love traveling via car. The kids do not unless it is in their neck of the woods, but we all did great. We made it down to Orlando safely, stayed 2 nights, then went down to Ft. Lauderdale, where Connie started off the festivities with a manicure for all of us. She fixed us a yummy Snapper Francaise and the next day we did a little prep work for their upcoming kitchen make-over, then we went to Morton's for a delicious dinner, after going to the beach the evening before and the next morning. It was just divine. No one entertains like Aunt Connie and Uncle Larry do.

We had to be back up to Orlando by 2 the next day so we could prepare for a little surprise cook-out for Randy. We invited old friends and old neighbors who have blessed us along the way with their friendship and time. I have to say, I thought Leah had gotten stuck with the brunt of the whole thing until it came time for Matthew to get Randy out of the house for a few hours. It was grueling, but we pulled it off without a hitch until I told Randy we were going to take the grill down to the clubhouse and grill some hamburgers to celebrate with the kids. He said he didn't want to, then I told him we wanted him to feel special on his special day. He smiled and said, "I want to cook out here. When you're 60 we can cook out at the clubhouse." I almost laughed out loud. It had never crossed my mind that he would be so adamant about where we cooked out. I finally told him that I had all the food already at the clubhouse for our "little impromptu cookout with just our family and David," Matthew's friend and their roommate. We led him to believe that Connie was upstairs taking a nap, while in reality she was already at the clubhouse welcoming people. We all trooped up the street to retrieve the food and walked in and SURPRISE! He really was surprised and it made it all worth it. We're all still marveling at how wonderful it was to surprise him, as he asks for nothing in return for all he gives.

May all your birthdays be HAPPY BIRTHDAYS!

The Bird Saga Continues

I failed to mention that about a month prior to all of this, there were nests built up in the gutters above the garage. We weren't aware of them until a gust of wind blew 2 of the babies out of their nests and they came tumbling down toward the garage door, which so happened to be open at the time. One went scurrying in and the other one went in the opposite direction. Needless to say, poor old Randy was stuck with making sure that bird was out of the garage before either of us started our cars. What we didn't realize in all the gusting of birds, was that 2 more were in the garage, which we found the next day. One was behind the plantation shutter and the other had met its demise, I'm unhappy to say. Randy made sure the surviving one was put out safely in the bushes so mom and dad could see it and he "took care of the other one." (So help me if anyone ever excavates this yard they are going to be amazed at the bird bones they find.) The next thing you know we found a Mom or Dad bird in our recycling bin...dead of course. I am starting to take this personally.

Back to more recent bird happenings...I went out yesterday morning to do my daily AM perusal of the garden and there were bird feathers all over the place. Moulting has begun it appears. I don't know how else to account for the many feathers scattered everywhere. Will keep you posted on that one, but before I ventured down to the pond, I saw something that appeared to be an armadillo floating on the water. Randy came out and agreed that's how it looked to him too, so we got our trusty binoculars out just to make sure. We still couldn't discern what it was until Randy finally decided to take the trek down to see for himself. "It's a dead goose," he shouts up to me. The next thing I'm wondering is if it's the old gray goose, and then the ending to a childhood song that I hadn't sung in years came to mind..."the old gray goose is dead." It wasn't though...yes, the goose was dead, but it wasn't the old gray one, because about 20 minutes later the word must have gotten out because they had all formed what appeared to be a funeral procession down to the far end of the pond where no one wants to go because EVERYTHING finds a resting place down there. At this point, I have not seen the goose's mate, but I am sure I will as our yard is where they come to mourn. I have determined that is not a bad thing necessarily, because in the realm of goosedom, they seem to be quite respectful of a fellow goose's mourning period. So you see, we provide land for one goose as opposed to MANY geese and there is less goose excrement as a result. (I try to look for the good in every situation.) I will start counting geese again. We should be down to 22 now. My little gardening buddy, Olivia, asked me where all the other geese died in the course of their lives. I didn't want to tell her about goose hunting season, so I just said, "Whenever their time comes, that's where they drop." She seemed satisfied with that so I just left it alone. I really do think it's a parent's job to discuss death and religion with their children.

P.S. There are 22 geese now...an even number. Maybe the one left from last year's catastrophe died of a broken heart and now all is even again. I would hate to think a new family had been touched by sorrow, because we all know...their cardinal rule is that they do not mate again after a mate dies. They've got my attention once again. I will keep you posted. In the meantime, just enjoy the chirping of the birds and pray that they will enjoy long lives and happiness.

Fowl Language

Nope...not so. I went to water the other baskets and the mom and dad were no longer hiding in the elm tree; they were screaming to the kids to lay low. So help me, I should have stopped watering and cleaning the baskets right then, but I just figured they were being territorial since I do not understand fowl language and never have. I went to the next basket, then the next and before you know it, I've got baby birds fluttering all over the place. I could have kicked myself. SURELY I had waited long enough if the doves were already gone.

To make matters worse, I went down to turn off the water, and there's a baby bird struggling. I felt so horrible I went to put on gloves to put it back in the basket and came back and it was too late. I felt really bad then. But, with just a little walk in the back yard a few hours later, I had a chance to redeem myself. I found a little bird that had fallen out of its nest below one of the big trees, so I gave it a little water and determined that if it survived the night, I would take care of it. It did and I did. I had Randy pick it up and put it in a little bird's nest left over from the year before, then I went and dug up some worms and told him he had to chew on the worms and regurgitate them into the baby's mouth to feed it, so it would think it was its dad. Needless to say, he didn't do that, but he did chop the worm into small pieces and feed it with the tip of a straw. That bird was not in the least bit afraid of us. It was missing its tail feathers, but didn't seem the worse for wear. In fact, it was a spunky little thing and seemed very demanding.

I Googled, "What do baby birds eat that fall out of nests?" and got a quick fix that I liked. The writer said that some birds are pushed out of their nests because they are too weak. I looked again at that spunk, and said that couldn't be this case, but then looked at the bird and saw all those feathers missing, so wasn't sure. The article went on to say that I should put holes in a Cool Whip tub, line it with paper towels, then put a little straw or a nest inside it, then place the bird in the tub and place it as high as we could back in the tree it fell from, and that sometimes the mother and father will alternate between nests. That sounded so good to me, but we decided not to do that until the next day, Sunday. In the meantime, I was hunting worms every spare minute, because those little birds eat all the time when they are that small.

We got home from a movie and the little bird was out on the back patio. Mollie got to her before we did and scared the you-know-what out of her...us too. We got her safely back in her nest, put a little fence cover over her after feeding her one last time before bedtime, then came in for the evening. THEN came this horrible storm around midnight...I'm not kidding, I think it was the worst night storm we have ever had up here. (Of course Randy didn't hear it. I guess he was so exhausted from being "Big Bird" that day.) Anyway, he got up the next day and said the baby hadn't made it through the night. It sure didn't die from hunger, but I'll bet it was scared to death from the storm with no mom to comfort it.

After that, I told the Lord that I guessed we were even. I'd tried to take care of that little bird and had even planned on teaching it to come when called. I had no sooner finished my little prayer, when I felt compelled to walk back to where I'd found the bird in the first place, and lo and behold, there was its brother/sister. I looked heavenward and said, "Why me, Lord? Why me?" I turned away and said, "Lord, this one's yours." In His grace and love, He sent my little neighbor, Olivia the animal lover, over to find that bird. I figured she'd feed it a few worms and that would be that, but no...I guess she needed to find out for herself about "survival of the fittest."

I went to bed with a clear conscience and got up the next morning and went to look at my garden, when I heard Olivia running over from next door. "Mrs. McCann, I've got good news!" I was ready for some good news after the bird mortality rate had just gone up by leaps and bounds due to ME, so I said, "I can't wait to hear. WHAT?" I took that baby bird home last night and put it in a cage and it survived the night!" I looked at her incredulously and said, "You did?" I have to admit that I was a little relieved to know she was now responsible for the bird, and not me. "Yes," she replied, "and my mom told me to bring it back this morning." I looked at her through twitching eyes (That happens when I get unduly stressed.) and asked, "Is it there now?" "Uh huh," she replied with joy. I didn't even hesitate. I told her that this bird was on its own. I had tried to help the other one and it had died. I recounted what I'd read about the mom kicking the weak ones out. I reminded her about the survival of the fittest, because every kid in the world has seen the "Lion King" and knows all about the food chain, and then I told her I was leaving this one for God to take care of. She looked at me and said, "Well, I think it's always best to at least try." I figured that is what she had done, but I walked over to the garden and cast a quick glance through the flowers and didn't see any sign of the baby bird. I've stopped looking, because I don't want to see it. I have painted this beautiful picture in my head, that because this bird appeared to be stronger and had its tail feathers in tact, that it has what it takes to survive. That's my story and I'm sticking to it...but...there's more. Stay tuned.

It's official. We are "bird grandparents." Every basket hanging on our porch contains a nest of some kind of bird. We go through this every year, with last year being the absolute most stressful spring of my life. I don't mind them building their nests in our hanging baskets on the porch...in fact we love peering at them through the slats in our plantation shutters, BUT they got a little invasive last year and went and built nests in all of our air vents for our bathroom fans. Needless to say, I was gritting my teeth the first time I turned on our bathroom fan over the shower to take out steam and heard who knows what being ground by the fan blades. I quickly shut it off and then yelled for Randy. It was shortly thereafter that we started hearing movement above our heads, like birds, lots of birds, moving around. I told Randy we'd give them this year, then no more nests in our vents.

So, Randy, and our brother in law, Larry (who always gets the crummy jobs, but smiles through them all) took his long arms and pulled all the straw out of our vents. To keep them from coming back this year, we balled up chicken wire and placed them at each entrance. Sure enough, those little creatures of habit came back and they pecked for weeks trying to get back in to those vents. It can be very unnerving, especially if you saw Alfred Hitchcock's, "The Birds" when you were a child, like I did. (I can't believe some of the stuff our parents took us to see at the drive-in movies back in those days!)

Mourning doves seem to have squatting rights in the first basket near our window. They have an exceptionally long fledgling period in my opinion. They appear to be teenagers before they fly the coup (nest in this case.) It was quite interesting this year, watching how Mom and Dad would probably be hiding behind leaves in the nearby elm tree watching the kids as they tried to wean themselves away from them. It reminded me of Leah when she was 4, wanting to exercise a little independence, telling me she wanted to go outside by herself. I complied and would shut the door telling her not to go near the street and she'd readily reply, "I am't." Then I'd glue myself to the wall, and peek from behind the curtain until she was safely back in the house, asking her to recount her big adventure alone. She was just happy as a little lark.

The baby doves were no different. They'd perch themselves on the very edge of the basket and you could just imagine one of them saying to the other, "Look at me!" Then they'd flutter their wings in pride at their accomplishment. We knew it was getting closer to "TIME" when Mom and Dad stayed away for a whole day and didn't return until dinnertime. They were all gone within two days.

I decided it was time to pinch off dead geranium flowers finally. Randy had already installed a drip mist system so we wouldn't have to disturb them and could ensure our flowers stay watered, plus we read recently that watering them doesn't hurt them, so we'd spray from a distance, a fine mist. I figured if those doves took that long to mature, surely all the other nests would be empty by now. Not so. To be continued...

Not just the "Captain of the Neighborhood Watch"

Maurice Duke Ferrara was born June 15, 1914 in New York. He served on various ships of the United Stats Navy. He was Commander the USS Gar (SS-206), the USS Tambor (SS-198), The USS Finback (SS-30) and Commanded the USS Gearing (DD-710) from July 25, 1951 to February 4, 1953. He then became Commander of the Naval Station & FTC San Diego California. He was awarded the Legion of Merit, a Bronze Star Medal and the Navy Commendation Medal. He retired in 1962. Maurice Ferrara died December 31, 1987 in San Diego, California.

OBITUARY: The San Diego Tribune, January, 1, 1988 - A mass for retired Navy Capt. Maurice Ferrara, 73 of Loma Portal, will be said at 1 p.m. tomorrow in St. Charles Borromeo Roman Catholic Church. Burial will be in Holy Cross Cemetery. Goodbody Mortuary is in charge. He died yesterday in a hospital. Capt. Ferrara was born in New York City, was a resident of the county for 40 years, Graduated from the U.S. Naval Academy and retired from the Navy in 1962. He was a member of the Submarine Veterans of World War II , the retired Officers Association, the Naval Academy Alumni Association, the Naval Academy Athletic Association and sports Association of San Diego County.
He served on the boards of the Kiwanis Club of San Diego, the Kiwanis Foundation and the Metropolitan YMCA.
Survivors include his wife, Judith; four sons, Duke, Tom, Jim and Mike, and a daughter Judy Atkins, all of San Diego; a brother Polly, and two sisters, Pauline Snyder and Anne Maccarrone, all of San Diego; and eight grandchildren. The family suggested donations to the Kiwanis Foundation or the San Diego Hall of Champions.

Maurice "Duke" Ferrara lived across the street from us in San Diego, Pt. Loma specifically, right down from the Naval Training Center. I remember meeting him for the first time as he stood outside walking an old friend to his car. Duke spoke first welcoming us into the neighborhood and then put out his hand and said, "I'm Duke Ferrara, Captain of the neighborhood watch," in a strong confident voice. I was 26 years old and Randy was 30. I wasn't quite sure what the Captain of the Neighborhood Watch did, but I can tell you I didn't fear too much in those days knowing Duke was on watch directly from across the street. He was retired military and I never knew until this day, as I thought about true heroes who have fought to retain our freedom, what he did exactly. The little piece up above does little to identify the expanse of his military career.

I remember vividly when he told us all about his pending trip to the Phillipines to be honored by Fernando Marcos in appreciation of what the American forces had done all those years ago to help them in their time of need. Duke's rendition of the story gave us all chill bumps as he recounted how his sub had gone in and saved the day. He was enamored with all the red carpet treatment and festivities done in their honor, along with a statuary of some kind erected on the beach, proclaiming their names and offices. They were given gifts and pictures to commemorate their time there.

It was shortly thereafter that things turned upside down in the Phillipines under Marcos' rule and the relations with the United States was severed, but Duke Ferrara remained faithful to his small part in the annals of loyalty to God and country and looked past the human frailty of others and remained steadfast in proclaiming there's good in every body. I salute today, Duke Ferrara, Captain of the Neighborhood Watch and am thankful to have known him and called him "FRIEND."

My Special Mother's Day

I am going backwards in time, as I am left with just the clean-up of the Amos Cottage Aces for Amos tournament and silent auction, and the beds are made after our sister's weekend, ready for the next set of friends. I failed to mention the most wonderful thing in the midst of all of this. Two Saturdays ago...Mother's Day Saturday...(you know it takes a whole weekend to honor a mother,) I had a stamping class that I had signed up for at one of our local scrapbooking stores. You need to see the big picture here. I could not solicit items for the silent auction without buying something in each store. I know how badly the economy has affected so many people, and especially small business owners, so I justified buying something at almost every place to let them know I just wasn't asking for a handout. So, I signed up for a scrapbooking class on a Saturday...a day I never plan anything for unless it is done with Randy and friends.

Randy and I did what we always do almost every morning. He fixes his coffee and I pop open my Starbuck's frappicino, and we go sit outside on our back porch overlooking the pond, yard and sky, and have morning devotionals, pray for God's guidance and get on with our day. Well, we were in the midst of that when I heard the phone ringing inside. It was the owner of the store reminding me of the class, which had already started. I NEVER go out without makeup, but I did this day, figuring anyone else up at 9:00AM couldn't be looking too good to take a scrapbooking class. I told them to start without me and off I went.

There was only one other person and she had already stamped a beautiful array of colors and patterns and techniques, but I was quick to catch up, since I'd already bought most of the materials during my previous solicitations. (I always have good intentions of having some quiet time once I get this book written, but life just seems to have a different path these days.) I found myself just enjoying myself to pieces doing all that creative stuff that just tends to feed my soul. I was even sad when our time was up, so I made additional purchases since I got an extra 10% off as incentive to take more classes, but just for that day only. (I bought a small light box that came in real handy when my sisters and I had already sealed the auction thank you note envelopes and couldn't see if the inside address matched up with the outside address. You could see right through it. I just found the missing letter yesterday and it confirmed what my sister Linda said when we couldn't find a letter for the only envelope left. I had printed 2 of one and thought I'd printed each one consecutively. I was very happy to see I had printed that one and didn't mess things up as we all worked together to get the thank you letters out.)

I'm coming to the good part, so hang in there. I came home and was getting lunch ready for Randy and I. He had some running around to do, so our plan was to meet at home for lunch. I was just washing the lettuce and vegetables and heard the door open and was making a comment about what he wanted in his salad, and I got no answer. I looked up and there was Leah standing right before my eyes. I was speechless, and just burst into tears. What a wonderful Mother's Day surprise it was to see her. She told me she was here for the whole week to help me with the auction. (She used to help me and the other wives of the Universal Studios executives organize the silent auctions that Universal Studios puts on for charities.) I used to laugh and just shake my head at them coming to her for instructions and them being so grateful for her help. It blessed this mother to pieces.

We carved out "Mom and Me" time wherever we could and when it came time for the auction, she had put every item on EXCEL; made colorful tags for each basket; and come up with a final tally sheet on powerpoint. I have never been so proud. The ladies hugged her goodbye and thanked her as she and Randy left to go to the airport. I didn't go as it was too emotional, with all the other things going on. He arrived back about 2 hours later and said, "Well, Leah can't say that all her work wasn't appreciated." I am so thankful for the ladies of the Guild opening their arms and hearts to her. It was the end of a wonderful week. And then my sisters came. (This is starting to sound like "LOST," where you don't know the past, from the present or the future.) And...that was yesterday's story!

I don't want to overlook the fact that I have picked up another country on my widget thing, and I have grown by 2 in 2 countries. I love this blog stuff! I also failed to mention that when I got home from the stamping class, I realized I'd lost an earring. I looked everywhere for it and just could not find it, but when I finally went back to the store to pick up my auction item, there sat the earring waiting patiently for me. I was so happy! God takes such good care of me.