I'll Call It Like I See It

by sheila morris

Author: Sheila Morris

  • Between Hell And Hackeydam


    Sheila Morris's avatarI'll Call It Like I See It

    Seems like I’ve been off on some “heavy” topics for a good while, and I needed a breath of fresh air.  I remembered this post I had about Bubba Sage and saw that I wrote it almost exactly two years ago on October 17, 2012.  I loved reading it again and thought you all might, too.  Enjoy.

    Once upon a time not long ago and certainly not far away a great Texas storyteller held forth on a Sunday afternoon as his audience gathered around a small dining room table, and it  was my good luck to be there for the performance.  He was the last guest to arrive for the barbecue luncheon and proved to be quite the addition to a little band of friends and family who gathered for a traditional birthday celebration for my cousin Martin.  I should’ve known I was in for a treat when Carroll “Bubba” Sage announced his presence with an entrance worthy of royalty.  This very…

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  • I’ve Been to the Mountaintop


    If you are a cyberspace friend of Red’s Rants and Raves and/or The Old Woman Slow’s Photos, you know South Carolina Pride was this past weekend in the state capitol of Columbia.  I took 163 digital images over the weekend and posted my favorites on the blogs.  I am a believer in the old adage “A picture is worth a thousand words,” and these pictures are images of hope, faith, love and joy – and the occasional unsmiling prophecy pretenders.  I love the pictures, but I can’t resist the thousand words, give or take a few.

    When I look at these images, I hear the voices of America singing.  I hear the cries of Paul Revere on his midnight ride and the loud sounds of argument and heated debate as the Founding Fathers (yes, Virginia – there were no mothers present) drafted the Constitution of the United States with a Bill of Rights guaranteeing individual liberties.

    I hear the sounds of slaves who could not speak to their masters, and I hear the whispers of abolitionists who spirited those slaves away in the darkness.  I hear the cries of the wounded and dying Confederate and Union soldiers as the artillery fired around them on the fields at Vicksburg and Gettysburg, and I hear the cannon fired in Charleston Harbor at Fort Sumter.

    I hear the choruses of the suffragettes who held a convention in Seneca, New York, and marched and dared to dream that women had the right to vote –  which they hoped would lead to greater equality, and I hear the roll call of states that  refused to ratify an Equal Rights Amendment which attempted to level the playing field for “the weaker sex” in the 1970s.

    I hear the singing of the marchers in Selma and Birmingham in the 1960s as they walked to overcome their harsh treatment.  I hear the voices of angry rappers today in Fullerton, Missouri, over the endless struggles for fair treatment in a country where equality is, too often, lip-synced.

    I hear the voices of the drag queens at Stonewall in 1969 as they refuse to be treated inhumanely and stand firm against the oppression of the gay community.  I hear the sounds of pleas by children who are thrown out of their homes and into the streets when their family confronts their sexuality.  I hear the sounds of comfort and support from people who respond with love to these children in distress.

    This is what I hear when I look at the digital images of the Pride March, but what I feel is entirely different. When you grow up feeling you are somehow not right, that there is something wrong with who you are and that you will never be good enough, and when you spend a lifetime being denied basic dignities and respect and are continually marginalized by being a part of a sub culture, and when you march in your hometown for twenty-five years and in those earlier years the prophecy pretenders outnumber the people who march with you, then the South Carolina Pride March this past weekend was like a parade for the astronauts who walked on the moon – minus the confetti and streamers.

    I wish I had the gift of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. to describe my feelings as I rode on the Pioneers Float Saturday, but since I don’t, I’ll borrow his words:

    “Well, I don’t know what will happen now.  We’ve got some difficult days ahead.  But it doesn’t matter with me now.  Because I’ve been to the mountaintop.  And I don’t mind.  Like any man I would like to live a long life.  Longevity has its place.  But I’m not concerned about that now…God’s allowed me to go up to the mountain.  And I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the promised land.  I may not get there with you.  But I want you to know today that we, as a people, will get to the promised land.  And I’m happy, today,  I’m not worried about anything.  I’m not fearing any man.”

    I’ve been to the mountaintop.

     

     

     

     

  • The Rest of the Story


    No Hollywood ending was in store for Peng Shuai at the 2014 US Open tennis tournament, the final Grand Slam event of the year.  The crowd of 18,000+  spectators did give her a standing ovation as she left the court yesterday following her semi-final match with Caroline Wozniacki, but unfortunately, she left that court in a wheelchair and was unable to appreciate the moment of respect.

    The bizarre ending to an entertaining duel between two tennis gladiators became bittersweet moments of victory and defeat while stirring a swirl of controversy that was as tempestuous as the wind blowing on the tennis courts at the Billie Jean King Tennis Center.  CBS has broadcast the US Open for forty-eight years on television, and this is its final year to cover the event.  The Wozniacki/Peng match will certainly be one of the most memorable in the archived footage of its last hurrah for the Open.

    The story of the unseeded Peng Shuai’s two-week run to the semi-finals flew under the radar as she quietly upset three of the higher seeds in the tournament and didn’t drop a set until she lost 7-6 to Wozniacki in the first one of the semi-final.  The women played for over two hours in the same challenging conditions of gusting winds and brutal heat that had plagued most of the other day matches throughout the second week of the tournament.

    The second set started with the equal ferocity of play as the first with long points and breaks of serve, but in the end, the outside forces of wind and heat were the winners –  as outside forces often are for all of us in our everyday battles.

    Peng Shuai, who is ranked as the number 39 player in the world,  succumbed to heat illness in the middle of the second set and was ultimately forced to retire…but not without high drama as she reportedly told the medical personnel she did not want to stop play while they were evaluating her condition off the court.  Wozniacki remained calm during the eleven minutes of her opponent’s medical evaluation, but the reaction of the TV commentators was less than sportsmanlike.

    Apparently the integrity of the entire tournament was at risk as a result of the possibility that too many minutes were taken between points played in the seventh game which was never finished.  Even as Wozniacki herself came across the court to comfort Peng who had slumped to the hard court surface and was clearly in agony and tears, the announcers debated the rules of the game related to forfeiture during cramping.  Come on, guys and gals.  Seriously?

    Three hours following her retirement from the match Peng Shuai was feeling better physically and when asked about her condition she replied, “Safe now.”

    And then, “I want, but I could not.”

    In this match which was her best finish in her 37th. try in Grand Slam events, Peng Shuai literally left everything she had on the court and refused to give up.  “I know I’m not going to stay maybe too long, but I just want to try,” she said about her decision to come back on the court after her initial medical evaluation.  “This almost two weeks I feel like I play really good and then I just maybe need to believe more in myself.  I keep going, fight and then look forward.”

    The good news is that in her home country she is considered to be the “pride of the Chinese people.”  The Communist Party People’s Daily says “There is no loser today.  Thank you Shuaishuai, you tried your best.”

    When the last ball dropped across the net in the final game before she retired, that is exactly what she did.   It is what each of us can do.  Pain, suffering, hardships abound and are the elements in our lives and in the lives of those around us which we feel are out of our control, and it is up to us to choose to try to make the circumstances of our lives and our communities and our country better.  Often we lack the simple belief in ourselves that we can rise, pick up our racquet and finish the game.

    We must keep going, fight and then look forward.  And this, as Paul Harvey used to say at the end of his radio broadcasts many moons ago, is the rest of the story.

     

     

     

     

     

  • The 37th. Time is the Charm


    The name Peng Shuai is not a household name in the USA, but she is the third-ranked Chinese professional female tennis player behind the more familiar Li Na and  Zhang Shuai.  More familiar to tennis addicts, that is.

    This afternoon in New York City at the US Open, Peng played her 37th. match in Grand Slam events since turning pro in 2001 at the age of fifteen – and reached her first semi-final ever. Think about that.  Thirty-six entries and thirty-six times falling short of a goal over thirteen years.  Finally, on try number thirty-seven, she makes it to the semi-finals of one of the most prestigious tournaments on the Women’s Tennis Association tour.

    Her interview following the match with Tennis Channel commentator Tom Rinaldi was not nearly so entertaining as the ones with the number one Chinese player Li Na, but then she hasn’t had the same practice.  The most she could do was smile and wipe her face with a towel while she tried not to cry.  “Very excited,” she managed to say in English, when asked to describe her emotions.

    Very excited, indeed.  Peng is the daughter of a policeman and homemaker and the niece of an uncle who encouraged her to start playing tennis at the age of eight and she has played off and on for twenty years since.  When she was thirteen years old, she had heart surgery, and she has struggled with several health issues throughout her tennis career.

    “I love tennis, I love to play tennis,” she said in her post-game interview.

    I was happy for her because I love a good story about individuals who overcome adversity and realize their dreams after years of hard work.  Years of hitting a little yellow ball across a net.   Hours, days, weeks, months, years…and in those years believing within herself that she could win the big matches that place her name among the elite in her sport.  She has spunk.  I love spunk.

    In February of 2014, Peng Shuai reached a career high-ranking of number one in the world in doubles.  She is the first Chinese professional tennis player, male or female, to reach that standing.  Beyond impressive. Rankings are rankings in every sport and are often overrated, but Peng has had a tortuous climb from number 357 in the world in 2002 to number 39 in singles in 2014.

    She will face the winner of the Caroline Wozniacki/ Sara Errani match which will be played tonight under the lights in the Arthur Ashe arena.  They each have their own stories and are, I’m sure, equally excited and deserving of the opportunity to meet Peng in the semi-finals.  Exciting matches in store for the readers of Sports Illustrated.  I can’t wait…

    Peng Shuai may not make it to the finals of the Us Open this year, but I’d bet good money she’ll keep trying until she does.

     

     

     

     

  • Kids Say the Darndest Things


    Art Linkletter and Bill Cosby created lots of fun and entertainment for generations when they interviewed children on their television shows in the years before reality TV.  YouTube, which has live videos of everything that’s ever happened in the world including all TV shows, has an awesome collection of their Kids Say the Darndest Things moments.  Teresa and I are fortunate to have our own personal collection of kids’ sayings through our younger friends who have small children.

    The Snyder family in Columbia regularly makes us smile with their photos and anecdotes of their son’s comments. Soon-to-be  four years old Finn cracks us up when he phones his MamaDaddy and Auntie T and talks for ten minutes about something very important.  We know it’s important because he doesn’t pause to take a breath in those ten minutes, but we don’t know why… because we can’t understand a word he’s saying.  It’s the thought that counts.

    Out of the mouths of babes, as the saying goes, couldn’t be any truer. I had my own  mouths of babes moments last week on my trip to Worsham Street in Texas when I stayed in the Huss House where their three sons are all under the age of six.  Art Linkletter and Bill Cosby would be happy to have heard Oscar, the oldest, reel off his detailed strategy of my work day that he imagined for my first day in their home.  His elaborate plan involved chopping up dead trees in their back woods with a pick-ax and chain saw, making a four-people sofa out of the wood we cut, selling the sofa, putting the pennies and nickels we made in his piggy bank, and then sending the money to Teresa and me in South Carolina when the piggy bank was full.

    I felt he had a brilliant idea, but I questioned him about whether he thought his parents would give us permission to borrow their pick-ax and chain saw for the day’s work – at which point he whispered, “Miss Sheila, you and I can form a team and sneak off in the woods without telling anybody.”  Perfect solution.

    On the final day of my visit, we were all going to escape the intense Texas  hundred plus degrees heat late in the afternoon by going for a swim in their pool.  I had bought a new swim suit earlier in the summer and changed into it in the guest bathroom.  When I walked into the bedroom to put my clothes away, three-year-old Dwight was sitting on my bed waiting for me.

    He took one look at me in my flowery pink swim suit, covered his eyes with both hands, and flung himself backwards on the bed yelling No, No, No.  I was alarmed and asked him what was wrong.  He was rolling on the bed from side to side while he held both of his feet up in the air in his tiny hands.  Clothes on, clothes on, he said, in obvious distress.  Mystery solved.  Dwight was afraid of what he saw in the swim suit.

    Kids have two things going for them in their communication process before we adults filter their minds with years of instruction and layers of guilt: one is imagination and the other is honesty.  I totally admire both qualities, but I’ve got, like, a thousand follow-up questions.

    Until next time.