I'll Call It Like I See It

by sheila morris

Category: family life

  • for Pretty on our twenty-third anniversary


    (1) There once was a woman named Teresa

    Who loved a good shrimp quesadilla.

    To Cancun she did roam in two thousand one,

    And when she came home still red from the sun,

    She’d found new love with her best friend named Sheila.

    (2) There once was a woman named Sheila

    Who loved a good shot of tequila.

    To Cancun she did roam in two thousand one,

    And when she came home her journey was done,

    She’d found true love with her best friend Teresa.

    (3) An anniversary of love in twenty twenty-three

    The best of the best has been you and me.

    Wherever we’ve roamed

    We’ve always come home

    Together, believing the best was yet to be.

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

    Happy Anniversary, Pretty. To quote Tina Turner, you’re simply the best – better than anyone could ever have been for me. I am forever grateful that you were the little girl who said yes.

  • if it weren’t for second chances, we’d all be alone

    if it weren’t for second chances, we’d all be alone


    Our lecture for today, o cyberspace class, is the epistemology of the second chance. (Sometimes I just throw in a big word to see if anybody’s paying attention.)  Frankly, I don’t remember  much about epistemology from my scholarly life except I heard it used in my undergraduate philosophy classes and my graduate studies in theology.

    To refresh my memory, I looked up the definition and found the word epistemology involves knowledge and the justification of knowledge; but then the dictionary wandered off into a question of what is knowledge, how can it be justified and I immediately remembered why I dropped out of seminary. Way too much digression and grey areas for a 23-year-old CPA who dealt in absolute numbers before answering a “call” to the ministry that was surely a wrong number.

    During the forty years I wandered in the wilderness of numbers I grew accustomed to vague responses and  half-truths. I tried to blend in with a landscape camouflaged by degrees of knowledge that were justified with competing strident voices blasting away at each other from polarized positions of territorial absolutes.

    Yep, nothing like trying to convince people you own a piece of knowledge when they don’t agree with you. You can’t justify it to them no matter how hard you try and how loud you get because they own a piece of knowledge, too, which happens to be totally different from yours. That’s how it all goes downhill and the histrionics aren’t far behind. If only knowledge depended on the wisdom of golfers, epistemology would include the concept of Mulligans.  Mulligans are second chances.

    If someone hits a shot with a driver off the tee on the first hole and the little white golf ball vanishes mysteriously in deep woods closer to the fairway for the third hole than it is to the first hole, the golfer can say Mulligan and have a second chance to locate her own fairway again. She may hit a beautiful shot for her Mulligan or she may not, but the important thing is to have a new opportunity.

    In our personal lives second chances are sometimes painfully obvious and at other times so subtle we may miss them. As an old numbers person, I couldn’t resist creating a list of five lessons for successful second chances.

    Lesson Number One: Be open, available, alert to identify second chances; don’t think you won’t ever need one. You will.

    Lesson Number Two:  When you get a second chance, try not to think of it as an opportunity to repeat mistakes. Mistakes are hard to take back so don’t blow your Mulligan.

    Lesson Number Three: Be sure to tell your friends about your second chance. It may give them hope and inspire them to offer one or accept one. Honestly, can there be too many second chances going around?

    Lesson Number Four:  Your second chance may be your last chance.   Really?  100%.

    Lesson Number Five: Never be afraid to take a second chance when you have one. As Franklin Roosevelt famously said when the Hounds of the Baskervilles were closing in around him, we have nothing to fear but fear itself.

    Finally o cyberspace class, the lecture concludes with a little bit of knowledge mixed with a bunch of justification that adds up to the epistemology of the second chance as seen from the eyes of a 66-year-old who has had her own share of second chances; and has at various times in her life blown them, needed a third or fourth chance, and had some of them bring incredible happiness.

    Be generous to those you love and even to those whose knowledge is different from yours. Ouch. Is that really necessary?  Absolutely.

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

    This piece is one I originally published in September, 2012 following the death of my mother which had been a long time coming but given me a wonderful second chance for a more honest relationship with her in the final two years of her life – it was a second chance I embraced. Another second chance was on the horizon, but I had broken all of my own rules which made me oblivious to a second chance that came perilously close to being disastrous. I was reminded of this time in my life recently when I heard Gregory Alan Isakof’s song Second Chances that included the lyrics which became the new title for this post.

  • Molly’s Big Birthday Weekend

    Molly’s Big Birthday Weekend


    Her family and friends celebrated Molly’s January 26th. second birthday with vigor, an occasion she seemed content to embrace while managing to control her focus. The festivities began Friday afternoon after school on the playground when her Nana (Pretty) and Naynay (me) came to pick her up – her great Aunt Darlene and Dawne had driven down from the upstate to get the weekend started. They took great pictures!

    Molly going full speed ahead with Ella close beside her

    Molly all smiles when Ella is near

    Ella and her best buddy Thomas made it to the top,

    sharing a moment

    Molly takes a playground break –

    turning two years old wears me out

    Birthday dinner at Mexican restaurant – where else?

    left hand? right hand? both work fine to eat Mexican food by myself

    Ella and Naynay study chips, salsa and queso – they’re wasting time

    The Party

    Ella and Molly tackle the Bounce House in the back yard

    I think my school friends found my toy box

    oh well, they make me say sharing is caring…but she has my doll

    my teacher Miss Stefanie came to my party – she brought her son Cole

    my mom Caroline and dad Drew love me to the moon and back

    Mama and her friends worked so hard for my birthday party –

    I had the best time

    my Nana and Naynay love me, too –

    they let me do whatever I want to do

    BIRTHDAY CAKE!

    Happy Birthday to me!

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

    Molly was oblivious to another birthday gift she received when a woman named E. Jean Carroll received an $83.3 million dollar settlement on Molly’s birthday against a former president of the United States for his years of bullying her in public. Carroll’s stand was a ray of hope that will help Molly and all little girls have the courage to be brave when they are confronted with behavior designed to make them feel lesser than. Thank you for that gift, Ms. Carroll.

  • the Civil War, old tapes, social media and crazy liberals

    the Civil War, old tapes, social media and crazy liberals


    As the race toward the 2024 election begins to heat up with Iowa caucuses in the rear view mirror, the New Hampshire primary next Tuesday,  I look more frequently at the map of the red states and blue states that make up our United States to wonder anew at Abraham Lincoln’s commitment to keep the country united as one. I understand the problem better for sure. I always wondered how brother fought brother on different sides during the Civil War. They were family first after all, right? Not so fast, my friend. A post I published in the summer of 2017 is a reminder of how messy families can be – particularly when we get together in cyberspace.

    My grandmother invented social media via the telephone party line we had in our little town as surely as Al Gore invented the internet. She relished listening in on other people’s conversations and delighted to repeat juicy gossip at her kitchen table… but please dear God, don’t ever mess with her family.

    This week I did something I almost never do. I responded on social media to a post made by a first cousin twice removed who has a world view that I have long ago accepted as different from mine. Most of the time I hide his offensive posts from my timeline and move on.

    I can’t bring myself to “un-friend” him because I truly love the little boy I remember visiting us in Richards so often with his grandmother who was my grandmother’s sister. But this week he posted that liberals must have a “mental illness” to think the way we do, and that struck a nerve for me.

    You see, I grew up during a time when being a homosexual was considered to be a mental illness. Think about how you would feel if you grew up believing that you had a secret mental illness and, if exposed, you could be institutionalized. Lock her up. Throw away the key. I heard an old tape begin to  play in my mind.

    Somehow our thread on Facebook took an unpleasant turn, as I already knew it would and we got into a discussion regarding a prevailing Muslim  belief in some places that gays should be killed. Unfortunately, one of my cousin’s friends chimed in with the following comment: “We knew someone many years ago that would probably want to buy a plane today, load them (gays and lesbians) up and drop them off over there (wherever Muslims live). I sure miss him.”

    Wow. I was transported to a conversation I had in the early 1990s with a client who sat in my office and said, “If it were up to me, I’d take all those queers and put them behind barbed wire in Kansas and tell them to stay there.” I didn’t respond then. The old tape was playing louder now.

    One of my mother’s most infamous quotes for me was that she wished all those gays would go back in the closet where they belonged. She would be happy to slam the door shut. The old tape was so loud now I could barely hear myself think.

    Luckily, I didn’t accept the old tapes as I don’t accept my cousin or his friend’s thinking about who I am today. I’ve spent my entire adult life working for equal treatment and fairness – my liberal social justice beliefs. In 1974 the American Psychiatric Association declassified homosexuality as a mental disorder. I was 28 years old. In 2017 at the age of 71, I am personally declassifying liberalism as a mental illness.

    I resolve to limit my social media interaction with my first cousin twice removed to Happy Birthday wishes. No need going up that blind alley again.

    I feel better already.

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

    P.S. Sadly I have “un-friended” my cousin twice removed in the intervening years since 2017 because I had to get out of his kitchen. I couldn’t take the heat.

  • I hope you dance – a refrain

    I hope you dance – a refrain


    Two years ago on the 26th. of this month Molly Iris James was born to her parents Drew and Caroline, big sister Ella, and an assortment of extended family members who couldn’t believe their good fortune in welcoming the birth of a second baby girl to the village that would be her home. When I think of her second birthday in two weeks, the lyrics to the song “I Hope You Dance” by Tia Sillers and Mark Sanders float through my musical memories, a refrain from a previous post.

    I hope you never lose your sense of wonder,
    You get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger,
    May you never take one single breath for granted,
    God forbid love ever leave you empty handed,


    I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean,
    Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens,
    Promise me that you’ll give faith a fighting chance,
    And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance.

    I hope you dance… I hope you dance…

    I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance,
    Never settle for the path of least resistance,
    Livin’ might mean takin’ chances, but they’re worth takin’,
    Lovin’ might be a mistake, but it’s worth makin’,


    Don’t let some Hell bent heart leave you bitter,
    When you come close to sellin’ out reconsider,
    Give the heavens above more than just a passing glance,
    And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance

    I hope you dance… I hope you dance.

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

    For my 76th. birthday in April, 2022 Pretty took me and our two granddaughters to the zoo. She carried Molly in her car seat, diaper bag on her back, often carrying two year old Ella in her left arm while I tagged along with my two bionic knees. We had a small parade of our own. Please know I offered to rent a stroller when we entered, but Pretty said the line to rent one was too long to wait. There were two people ahead of me.

    The day was a memory maker, and Pretty deserves an award for creating a magical time for the four of us. I love these little girls to the moon and back.

    that day I hoped they both would dance…

    …and they do!