I'll Call It Like I See It

by sheila morris

Category: family life

  • and then there were these Mother’s Day Moments in 2023

    and then there were these Mother’s Day Moments in 2023


    Number One Son Drew and Pretty Too Caroline along with their daughters Ella and Molly treated Pretty a/k/a Nana and me a/k/a Naynay to a Mother’s Day brunch Saturday at the Luzianna Purchase restaurant in Irmo, the second year in a row we have had that family fun there. Hm. I think I smelled tradition when we were eating, but possibly that was the aroma of the best French toast I ever had. Everyone enjoyed the food – I sat next to fifteen month old Molly whose little teeth allow her to taste whatever looks inviting which, for her at this moment, is everything.

    Naynay, can I please try your French toast?

    Three and a half year old Ella lost interest in our conversations but never loses interest in her Nana’s phone. Endless entertainment for her although her parents, ahem, prefer limited cell phone viewing. Honestly, where does that child get her phone obsession, Nana and Naynay?

    Ella took this photo of her mother using Nana’s phone

    At some point during brunch, Ella asked us if she could come to our house when we finished eating. Of course, the answer was yes so she came home with us for the afternoon. The energy level picked up steam when the tornado that is our granddaughter mixed with our barking dogs who announce but try to ignore her presence. Although the afternoon sun was warm with temperatures in the mid 80s, the pool was still too cold for jumping in so Ella had to settle for playing with her toys which we have had on our screen porch for her (and now Molly) for the past three years.

    The girls have tons of toys at their house, but when they come to our screen porch they make their own outdoor games with empty pill bottles, bandaid boxes, a tennis ball, homemade wooden car, a green frog that once croaked but the squeaker gave up, and a box of cards that can be admired but too difficult to open. Ella created elaborate stories while she filled the pill bottles with pool water from the shallow steps to make “pretend” sodas for us while we kept watch. She also was happy to carry cold water bottles and peanut butter crackers to the two men who were working on replacing the wood on our deck. Busy, busy, busy.

    I told her we were so happy to have her visits but I was afraid there’d come a time when she would have her own friends to play with and she wouldn’t be interested in visiting her Nana and Naynay. She looked at me and said with all sincerity, “When I get bigger I’ll have my own car and can drive to see you.” End of story…

    By far the highlight of Ella’s time with us was when Nana took her to the front yard and let her run back and forth through the sprinkler before we loaded her into the car for the trip to take her home. She loves water as much as Pretty does, and she squealed with laughter, with delight, with the pleasure of getting soaked and announced this was her best time ever and didn’t I just love what she was doing?

    Of course, I said yes.

    our beautiful Mother’s Day gift from the kids

    Pretty and I appreciate our family time and understand how fortunate we are to love and be loved by them. We also know Mother’s Day can be a reminder of loss for other mothers, daughters, sisters, grandmothers – losses that leave vacuums in our hearts. I remember a hymn that went something like now the day is over, night is drawing nigh, shadows of the evening steal across the sky. For this one day let the shadows bring us comfort and peace with the possibility of love to fill the vacuums.

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    Slava Ukraini. For the mothers and their children.

  • making fudge with my mother

    making fudge with my mother


    Upon the suggestion of an astrologer I met for the first time this last week as a birthday gift from my friend Meghan, I began to re-read my memoirs beginning with the first one published in 2007. Deep in the Heart: A Memoir of Love and Longing was described by author and poet Ed Madden as a story of what life was for a little butch tomboy growing up behind the Pine Curtain of East Texas in the mid-twentieth century. I still like this little girl I wrote about in 2007, and I adore my maternal grandmother Dude as well as my paternal grandmother Ma today as I did then. Fifteen years later I feel more loving toward my mother the fudge maker – perhaps the result of sharing the last four years of her life as she struggled with dementia from 2008 – 2012. The difficulties in the relationships between mothers and daughters are universal, although they may hopefully be set aside at least once a year on Mother’s Day.

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    Slava Ukraini. For the mothers.

  • guns over children? american carnage

    guns over children? american carnage


    Civil war has been declared on American citizens going about their activities of daily life by other American citizens using AR-15s, the chosen weapon of this war.

    Is anybody listening?

    Ban the damn things. Ban them all.

  • one final birthday card – and gift

    one final birthday card – and gift


    The card was given to me by my good friend Bing at dinner in our favorite Mexican restaurant last night where she and another good friend Meghan treated Pretty and me to a delicious meal. Yummy!

    The card came with this book for our granddaughters – nothing is better than a delightful “message” book for an activist’s granddaughters. I loved it – and will love reading it to them. If you haven’t read it, you must. The words of wisdom work for all of us regardless of our ages.

    I must say thank you to everyone who has bombarded me with good wishes during what became my 77th. birthday month! You have made this a super time, as our three year old Ella says when she reaches for hyperbole. I couldn’t say it better myself.

    Onward.

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

    Slava Ukraini. For the children.

  • and now I’m seven and seventy

    and now I’m seven and seventy


    Six years ago in the summer of 2017 I posted my version of British poet A.E. Housman’s classic poem “When I was One and Twenty” published in 1896 in a collection called A Shropshire Lad. Housman, who was born in 1859 and died in 1936 at the age of seventy-seven, had partially funded the publication of A Shropshire Lad following a publisher’s rejection. In today’s jargon, we call that self-publishing. The book has been in continuous print since then so somewhere in London a poetry publisher in the last decade of the nineteenth century cursed himself on a Roman British tablet…or on something equally appropriate for turning down this classic.

    When I Was One-and-Twenty

    When I was one-and-twenty
           I heard a wise man say,
    “Give crowns and pounds and guineas
           But not your heart away;
    Give pearls away and rubies
           But keep your fancy free.”
    But I was one-and-twenty,
           No use to talk to me.
     
    When I was one-and-twenty
           I heard him say again,
    “The heart out of the bosom
           Was never given in vain;
    ’Tis paid with sighs a plenty
           And sold for endless rue.”
    And I am two-and-twenty,
           And oh, ’tis true, ’tis true.
     
     
    When I was One and Twenty
    BY Sheila R. Morris

    When I was one and twenty, my father said to me,

     “Work hard, be kind to others, the truth will set you free;

    a penny saved is a penny earned was his advice to me.”

    But I was one and twenty, no use to talk to me.

    When I was one and twenty, my father said again,

    “Work harder, be smarter, but always be a friend;

    love family, serve country, life’s games are played to win.”

    And now I’m seven and seventy I hear my father say,

    “You did your best, forget the rest, your heart led all the way.”

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

    Tomorrow is my 77th. birthday which I have celebrated with Pretty and our two best friends Nekki and Francie in the south of France for ten remarkable days filled with delicious food, three days at the Masters 1000 Tennis Tournament in Monte Carlo, and a day at the Cannes Films Festival (or “pre-festival” according to Pretty who knows everything about pop culture) where I donated my last American dollars to a casino next to the pink carpet.

    The trip was on my short bucket list – a trip made possible through the generosity of our friends whose love and laughter made my bucket overflow with happiness. The time with Pretty is always special – luckily she came home with me but told me she would like to live in Nice for two years (if she could bring her granddaughters and their parents!).    

     

    (l. to r.) Francie, me, Pretty, Nekki – country come to town

    Pretty and me at Matisse Museum

    Francie and me grateful for bus

    after unexpected downpour leaving Matisse Museum

    Francie and Nekki on hotel rooftop

    Pretty happy with setting, lunch and the polka dot hat

    Thanks to our trip photographer Nekki for capturing some of our memory makers.

    And thanks to all of you, my readers and followers who have also become my friends, for sharing part of my journey over the past thirteen years. Impossible to imagine that time without you.

    Onward.

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

    Slava Ukraini. For the children.