I'll Call It Like I See It

by sheila morris

storytelling for truth lovers

  • Ten years and counting – what lessons have we learned from the Dallas, Texas, police ambush

    Ten years and counting – what lessons have we learned from the Dallas, Texas, police ambush


    Dallas marks 10 years since the July 7, 2016, ambush that killed five law enforcement officers during a downtown protest, one of the deadliest attacks on police in modern U.S. history. The shooting left four Dallas police officers and one DART officer dead, injured several others and forever changed policing in the city. The following piece I published ten years ago seems, sadly, appropriate for Everytown, USA, today.

    Big “D”, little “a”, double “L”  – a – s. Dallas, Dallas, Dallas, another notch in your gun belt this week; more snipers take a shot at our ability to wage peaceful parades and protests  while the face of violence lights up within your city limits. Shades of 1963 when you were the harbinger of our national nightmares to come.

    I am outraged at the environment of fear and desperation that leads men to believe that shooting each other with guns or blowing each other up with bombs is the only solution to our problems within our borders and across the pond. Prejudices over skin color and religious practices cross oceans, span continents and land at our doorsteps. And since we have the right to bear arms, we also have the right to shoot them – at each other.

    Policemen who are sworn to protect us become caught up in a kind of madness that makes them so suspicious and fearful of  people of color that even routine traffic violations can turn into scenes of degradation and death.  Lives are changed forever – death is permanent – there is no taking back the gunfire that kills an innocent man or woman: no do-overs. And it’s not just that one life taken. The ripple effect in the lives of families and friends is also endless.

    Take Back the Night? Hardly bold enough. Give Back the Light, I say. Give back the light of acceptance of citizens regardless of race or who they love or where they worship, but without apathy toward those who struggle with less. Acceptance without apathy – do we have leaders capable of recognizing the reality of the feelings of Powerlessness that drive men to fire gunshots against the Powerful…I wonder. And can the Powerful be changed to look beyond the obvious to the pain below the surface…I wonder.

    Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God, Jesus said in his sermon on the mount. I am looking for the peacemakers, I am waiting for the peacemakers, I am hoping that they find their way to Dallas, Texas, tonight.

    *********************

    Ten years later, I continue to wait for the peacemakers. I am one small voice in the wilderness of cyberspace, but I refuse to wave a white flag of surrender while I wait with hope for international peace.

     

     

     

     

     

  • Reminiscing Wimbledon: A Golden Era of Tennis

    Reminiscing Wimbledon: A Golden Era of Tennis


    What’s that sound I hear – that tick, tock, tick, “tocking” away? Must be time passing through this year…winter turned to spring, and now summer brings heat, thunderstorms, and always at our casa wherever we lay our heads, the thrilling sounds of Wimbledon, the third major tennis event of the season. Manic Monday is no more, Federer and Nadal have retired in recent years; Red, Annie, and Spike have been called to higher ground, but return with me to a Golden Era of tennis and enjoy this blast from the past. The year was 2017, and we had moved that spring from our Casa de Canterbury to our Casita de Cardinal where we remain nine years later.

    Faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive…it’s a train, it’s a plane, it’s Super Manic Monday at Wimbledon tomorrow and my head will be spinning like one of those old antique tops that we recently sold at our spectacular yard sale for Casa de Canterbury this weekend.

    Roger Federer in 2012 following his win

    Daddy WON Wimbledon again! Thank you, thank you

    (one of Roger’s twin daughters at the match in 2012)

    I lost at Wimbledon again – why me, o Lord, why me?

    (Andy Murray was the runner-up in 2012)

    The Red Man in the bleacher seats at

    Casa de Canterbury during Wimbledon in 2012

    (The Red Man was a serious Tennis Addict)

    Paw Licker Annie entertained herself in 2012…

    (she much preferred licking her paw to tennis)

    Spike’s first Wimbledon experience – 

    he didn’t quite catch the thrill in 2012

    Roger Federer and Novak Djokovic in

    2014 Wimbledon Final

    Daddy lost Wimbledon…oh, no

    Rafael Nadal leaving Wimbledon in 2014

    (win or lose, Nadal likes to stay fresh)

    Nadal, Federer, Djokovic and Murray a/k/a the Big Four will be flailing away at yellow tennis balls again tomorrow at the All England Club at Wimbledon in the round of 16 players still standing in both the men’s and women’s draws after the first week of tournament play. The ESPN commentators have dubbed this day Manic Monday because it is the final time both the men and women will be playing on the same day on the grass courts of the 2017 tournament.

    With the yard sale in her rear-view mirror, Pretty will be up with me to catch the Magic Marathon that is the beginning of the second week of one of the 4 Major tennis tournaments of 2017. Roger Federer  won the Australian Open earlier this year, and Rafa Nadal won his record-setting 10th. French Open title a few weeks ago.  His 10th. French Open. Truly awesome.

    These guys are “oldies but goodies” as my friend Robin Lee says whenever she sees me.

    That’s how I feel about the men and women who continue to loom large in international competition even as they pass the 30-year-old hurdle that used to be the sign of the end of times for tennis players. Good for them. They crash their own glass ceilings every time they step on Centre Court. And we haven’t even mentioned the legendary Venus Williams who is playing in her 20th Wimbledon at the ripe young age of 37. You go, girl.

    Spike has grown fonder of tennis in the past 5 years and will watch Wimbledon with Pretty and Charly and me in our new bleacher seats at Casita de Cardinal this week. We have to hope The Red Man and Paw Licker Annie will have the best seats in their home away from home, too. Red will pull for Roger with Pretty, and Annie, well, she will keep her preferences to herself.

    Spike and I both love Nadal whether he has a shirt on or not. Vamos!!

    Enjoy a fantastic week of tennis if you are a fan and have access to sports channels on your TV.

    Thanks for staying tuned.

    *********************

    The second week of Wimbledon 2026 is off and running with upsets galore in both the men’s and women’s draws – who will raise the trophies at The Championships? Possibly a new name will be written down in glory. Regardless, the competition will be epic.

  • Exploring Crape Myrtles: Nature’s Art in My Neighborhood

    Exploring Crape Myrtles: Nature’s Art in My Neighborhood


    I think that I shall never see a poem as lovely as a crape myrtle tree.

    the colors are breathtaking

    I saw these crape myrtles on my walk in the neighborhood today

    the bright pink are my favorites

    STOP to take a picture

    almost home – I envy my neighbor’s crape myrtle trees

    But then, I saw another picture at the top of my driveway…

    I wish you would get out of that chair

    Behold, the two cats that look for safe spaces to beat the summer heat – they are unimpressed with the lovely crape myrtles that thrive in the summers. Food and water, please. And the occasional kind words if you don’t mind.

    And we don’t.

    **************************

    Stay cool, and please stay tuned.

  • The Supreme Court’s Decline: A Call to Action

    The Supreme Court’s Decline: A Call to Action


    The downfall of the Supreme Court since I published the following piece on June 25, 2022, has been swift, surgical, and stunning. Today the decisions made by that group of nine justices further fostered the attacks on the rights of the people our Constitution aimed to protect. I’m struggling to celebrate our 250th. birthday next week in the midst of Nero’s fiddling while Rome burned.

    “People Vs Supreme Court (The Sonnet)

    When the Supreme Court behaves prehistoric,
    Every human must become an activist.
    When the gatekeepers of law behave barbarian,
    Every civilian must come down to the street.
    When people are stripped of their basic rights,
    By some bigoted and shortsighted gargoyles.
    We the people must take back the reins,
    And put the politicians in their rightful place.
    We need no guns and grenades, we need no ammo,
    Unarmed and unbent we stand against savagery.
    Till every woman obtains their right to choice,
    None of us will sit quiet in compliant apathy.
    Every time the cradle of justice becomes criminal,
    It falls upon us civilians to be justice incorruptible.”


    ― Abhijit Naskar, 

    Find A Cause Outside Yourself: Sermon of Sustainability

    *****************

    “Let the word go forth to friend and foe alike, that a torch has been passed to a new generation of Americans…” John F. Kennedy inaugural address on January 20, 1961, as the 35th. President of the United States.

    Clearly, my generation wasn’t what President Kennedy hoped we would be. Can I pass the torch to the next generations with new opportunities to pursue life, liberty, and happiness with equal justice for all? Thank you.

    Onward.

  • summertime and the living is, uh, not quite so easy as we’d thought originally

    summertime and the living is, uh, not quite so easy as we’d thought originally


    Originally published in 2020 – we still enjoy the screened porch, but now have two granddaughters who will share the summer solstice with us this year. I’m sure they will roll their eyes and say I’m boring them when I begin to explain the significance of June 21st. tomorrow. The summer solstice will hopefully take a back seat to their celebration of their daddy for Father’s Day, but just in case…

    I asked Pretty to join me on our screened porch last night a little after 9 o’clock. Pretty who had had a stressful day putting out fires she didn’t start, didn’t hesitate. Ok, she said as she began to move outside with me. That’s one of Pretty’s best characteristics – she’s never afraid to switch gears – she’s always willing to humor me when I make a gear switch.  I guess that’s really two exceptional qualities, but who’s counting.

    Today is the summer solstice, I reminded Pretty, it’s the longest daylight of the year. I wanted to enjoy it with you, I said. Look, it’s almost 9:15 and just now getting darker.

    Pretty exclaimed with enthusiasm – oh you’re right. I’m so glad you suggested the porch.

    ***********************

    You can blame this on the frogs

    While Pretty and I talked on our porch last night, I tried to explain to her what was going through my head on this first day of my 74th. summer. The sounds from our porch were connected to the sounds of my earliest memories of summer when I slept in a small double bed with my maternal grandmother while a cheap oscillating fan turned slowly from side to side as it valiantly tried to cool us in the hot humidity of an East Texas heat a thousand miles away from South Carolina, a heat that would not be relieved by opening every window on the porch where we slept or the random whisper of cool air from a small oscillating fan made by Westinghouse. The sheets were always clean but never actually cool.

    I never trusted the sheets anyway after discovering a scorpion hiding between them one night.

    But it was the sound of the frogs around our pool here on Cardinal Drive – particularly after a rain – that drew me to those hot muggy nights of Grimes County, Texas, where I was raised. My grandmother’s wooden house made from a retail catalog blueprint had many design flaws, but its one awesome feature which had nothing to do with the design really, was the magical pond (or tank, as we called it in East Texas) behind her house.

    The tank was the focal point of my only-child imagination play stories during the day, but it was the tank’s music of those summer nights I hope will never be erased from my memory. Specifically, it was the frogs, or bull frogs as my grandmother used to call them  just before we drifted off to sleep. The low guttural sounds were always behind the house and were somewhat subdued until every light was turned off at night. But then, those frogs got louder and louder until they hit a mighty crescendo. My grandmother and I laughed out loud when we heard them.

    The frogs who live in our backyard on Cardinal Drive are rarely as raucous as the bull frogs in my tank in Richards – I think they are smaller frogs. But occasionally I hear one of those loud guttural sounds looking for something, probably safer water supplies, and I am transported to different days. To a grandmother who guided me with her wisdom – now to a woman who loves sharing another summer solstice with me.

    *******************************

    I was blessed with a loving eccentric family who in the end gave me what they could – so much more than I realized. Today I stand with the Poor People’s Campaign and their national Call for a real Moral Revival to discover a soul within ourselves that will move all people to address the intersection of poverty, systemic racism, social injustices.

    One of the co-founders of the movement, Reverend William J. Barber II says, “In the long arc of human history, there are moments when the universe itself groans and declares, ‘It’s time.’”

    It is, indeed, time. It’s also summertime and contrary to the Gershwin hit song from Porgy and Bess, the living is definitely not easy for most of our fellow citizens who continue to demonstrate in our streets or elsewhere. Keep the faith. We must do better.

    Onward.

    *************************

    The Obamas were pitch perfect as always in their ceremonial addresses opening the Presidential Library/ Campus in Chicago this third week of June, 2026. They still give me hope. I need a large dose of that this summer when the living continues to be, uh, not quite so easy as we’d thought originally in these United States.