Category: family life

  • Rooted and Winged – poems by Luanne Castle

    Rooted and Winged – poems by Luanne Castle


    Unbelievably Pretty and I didn’t lose power during the winds and rain of Hurricane Ian as it passed through our neighborhood two days ago. I held my breath and feared the worst: I wouldn’t be able to finish the Sidney Poitier documentary on Apple TV+ or watch A Raisin in the Sun afterwards. I needn’t have fretted about the telly, though.

    During a rain recess I walked to the mailbox and was pleasantly surprised to find a copy of Rooted and Winged, poems by Luanne Castle, stuck among the host of political asks for financial support which are routine with the mid-term elections looming. Luanne is a blogging friend who shares my interest in personal history mixed with current cats, a love of family, a truth seeker and teller. Hooray, I thought to myself as I put the book down on my chair and returned to Sidney on the still functioning Apple TV+. Regardless of wind and rain, I had a book to read by candlelight. No need for candlelight – my lamp bulbs performed their duties without interruption.

    As the title suggests, this latest collection of poems by award winning poet Luanne Castle vividly portrays her recollections of the people and places that grounded her for life as well as the later forces which led her to observe nature with more than casual acquaintance, confront change in a world spinning out of control, and ultimately gave her wings to the voice she now uses to simultaneously sound alarm while offering comfort.

    Here are excerpts from two poems I found unforgettable.

    Why We Wait for Rain

    We wait for hours watching the dark unfurling

    toward us, unsure

    if it will land here at all

    whether it carries thunderstorm or haboob

    It smells like rain

    bittersweet cocktail of sandstone & blossoms

    still damp and quickening in the air

    over ten thousand years…

    And then this wonderful fantasy When I’m in Charge

    Someday you will realize it was me

    and know what you’ve lost.

    When the cancer cure is announced,

    I will be the anonymous healer.

    I will defeat A.I. before it takes over

    our world, outwit the hackers,

    the scammers and spammers…

    We’re all safe in the future because

    of what I’ve done, outlawing grief

    and its wily predecessor love.

    This book as well as her earlier work is available through Amazon and Luanne’s https://www.luannecastle.com/bookstore.

    Even if you believe you’ve never liked poetry, I encourage you to have a go at this collection. I guarantee you’ll surprise yourself by the emotions the images evoke even as your mind takes flight.

    ***********

    Stay safe, stay sane, and please stay tuned.

  • Carport Kitty and the hurricane

    Carport Kitty and the hurricane


    Carport Kitty settled on a mat at the bottom of our kitchen steps to weather the disastrous Hurricane Ian this week – our home in West Columbia, South Carolina was spared the devastation our neighbors in the low country of the state experienced for the past two days – we are two hours inland from Charleston. We realize we dodged a dangerous bullet by a few twists and turns on the large weather map that showed the destinations Ian reached; for that Pretty and I are immensely grateful.

    This morning CPK shared her space with ?

    Bully Cat who gave me a stare

    The costs of catastrophic weather events like Hurricane Ian are immeasurable today in the losses of lives and property, these costs will linger in the memories of so many people for all their tomorrows. To anyone who struggles to rebuild and restore their dreams for themselves and their children, whether from a blow from nature or a blow from another personal loss or disappointment, I hope you will find your own mat to weather the storm like Carport Kitty did. Maybe you can even comfort someone else.

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

    Stay safe, stay sane and please stay tuned.

  • what’s scarier? Halloween or the MID-TERMS?

    what’s scarier? Halloween or the MID-TERMS?


    Do you have our Boo at the Zoo tickets yet? Pretty called to me from her chair in the den last night while I struggled to catch up on a sea of emails in my office.This past weekend was Laver Cup tennis, one of my favorite tennis events of the year, but the 2022 tournament was in London which meant I was glued to the Telly on British Summer Time for three days with no opportunity for the 3Rs: reading emails, reading blogs and reading bills.

    Boo at the Zoo tickets? I called back to Pretty. It’s not even October, I thought to myself, but I obediently went to the Riverbanks Zoo website to find out about tickets. Last year was our first ever Boo experience because, you guessed it (a) Covid restrictions were lifted for the annual Halloween at the Zoo extravaganza and (b) we had a two year old granddaughter.

    Ella fell in love with her first real Halloween in 2021,

    eyes full of wonder at friendly ghost as we entered

    Boo at the Zoo

    The dates for Boo are October 20th. – 30th., I told Pretty when she walked into my office to make sure I was following up. Luckily, I continued, there are 2,900+ tickets available every night.

    Well, Pretty said, I’d better text Caroline (a/k/a Pretty Too, mother of Ella) to get our date on the calendar right away.

    Exactly, I answered. Game on. Pretty returned to her iPhone in the den.

    ***********

    September flew by this year – such an emotional one with the retirement of Serena Williams the first week of the US Open followed by this past weekend’s farewell to another living legend of the game: Roger Federer. Woe is me, I am undone. I feel like I’ve lost two best friends within a month; I’m feeling sad and angry, as Ella says when she fusses at me for one of my thoughtless outbursts in her direction. The word No should never be in anyone’s vocabulary.

    I’m angry with Time and Tide which wait for no man, according to an ancient proverb, and we can add they seem to speed up for tennis players over the age of 40. If only I could put Time in that bottle Jim Croce sang about…

    However, I will enjoy five more days in September, the first days of autumn, thirty-one days of Halloween excitement with soon to be three year old granddaughter Ella and her eight months old baby sister Molly, trying to avoid the angst of the looming general election on November 8th.

    Stay safe from all hurricanes, stay sane and please stay tuned.

  • who’s (what’s) to blame for microwave disaster?

    who’s (what’s) to blame for microwave disaster?


    Plenty of blame to go around, of course.

    (1) no alarm clock in our house that we can figure out how to work except microwave timer

    (2) the Covid test kit with exactly 15 second nose swabs and then

    (3) exactly 30 seconds swirling in tube and then

    (4) exactly 15 minutes to wait for valid test

    (5) the unsuspecting Lizard’s Thicket dinner roll placed two days ago in microwave to be eaten by someone for breakfast yesterday

    (6) Lizard’s Thicket for giving Pretty one dinner roll and one cornbread with her vegetable plate day before yesterday instead of the two cornbreads she always orders with the vegetable plate she gets at least once a week

    (7) whoever was supposed to eat unwanted dinner roll for breakfast yesterday but chose cinnamon raisin bread toast because she totally forgot the dinner roll was in the microwave

    (8) whoever decided to take yet another Covid test early this morning because she can’t believe her laryngitis and sore throat aren’t due to Omicron variant of the coronavirus

    (9) Pretty for staying with Molly for five nights at Drew and Caroline’s house across town while they were gone with Ella, leaving Pretty’s hypochondiac wife alone with Covid testing kits in kitchen

    Note to self: never leave dinner roll in microwave for 15 minutes. The dinner roll will catch fire, the microwave will never be the same, and the house will be filled with smoke.

    Could I possibly blame Carport Kitty when Pretty comes home today?

    Hm. I doubt it. Sigh. What’s one microwave more or less among friends, right, Pretty?

  • Eloise Robinson Powell was a woman of substance

    Eloise Robinson Powell was a woman of substance


    “Eloise Powell was a very special person, she was successful in every aspect of life, and she was a Godly woman who loved her family with every ounce of her being.”  ——– from obituary September 06, 2022

    My daddy Glenn Morris’s favorite cousin was Eloise Robinson Powell who was born March 21, 1924 six months before his birth on October 6th. of the same year. Daddy’s mother Betha Day Robinson and Eloise’s father William T. – better known to us as Bud – were sister and brother; Daddy’s father George Morris and Eloise’s mother Hattie Jane were brother and sister. In rural southeast Walker County, Texas the children of such mixed families in the Roaring 20s were known as “double first” cousins.

    Although their parents came from large families, (George and Hattie were two of ten children, Betha and Bud two of seven) Eloise was an only child while Glenn had one older brother and sister. Glenn spent much of his summers growing up with Eloise at their grandmother’s home in the tiny community of Crabbs Prairie “out in the country” near Huntsville which was fewer than 30 miles from his house in the small town of Richards in neighboring Grimes County. The friendship they formed in those early years as double first cousins would last throughout their lifetimes, spilling over into the next generation when Eloise’s son Bill and I played outside Uncle Bud’s store in Crabbs Prairie as kids in the 1950s.

    Eloise remained in Huntsville after her marriage to Chester Powell, had a successful career for thirty years as the administrative secretary to three different presidents of Sam Houston State University and upon her retirement received the honor of being named an SHSU Distinguished Alumni, the highest recognition a graduate of the school receives. My dad took me to visit Eloise in her office at Sam Houston several times when he was working on his master’s degree in education at the college. I’m sure she was surprised when Daddy and his little daughter popped by without warning in the President’s office to say hello. (Think no cell phones.) I remember how sweetly she smiled, though, how genuinely happy they were to see each other.

    The vicissitudes of life took Bill and me away from our Crabbs Prairie/Richards roots which meant that we didn’t stay as close as Glenn and Eloise had been; yet, our paths crossed again when I had an unexpected four-year Texas sabbatical from 2010 – 2014. Bill and his wife Donna had moved back to Crabbs Prairie and were living in a lovely home next to the modern convenience store version of Uncle Bud’s store. Pretty and I lived in Montgomery, a growing small town 18 miles south of Richards. Donna and Bill were as gracious to us when we popped in on them as Eloise was to my dad and me. Think cell phones, but no phone numbers.

    One of the greatest gifts of my Texas sabbatical after forty years of living a thousand miles away in South Carolina was my reconnection to Eloise and our family. I visited with her in her Huntsville home several times where we shared memories, stories, looked at pictures, birth certificates, marriages licenses, death certificates. We talked, we laughed, we shed tears – but mostly we shared a love of family history which Eloise had preserved in detail worthy of the personal historian she was.

    She also guided me on field trips around the area. One of our mutual cousins on the Morris side of the family, Fay, lived close enough to Eloise that we walked to help celebrate Fay’s 100th birthday in 2012.

    Eloise in center with her Morris first cousin sisters Fay (r.) and Willie Jo

    Eloise confided privately afterwards on the walk back she was convinced Fay’s secret to longevity was her 5:00 o’clock cocktail with a friend every afternoon without fail. I nodded and said I couldn’t argue with that.

    On another field trip in 2012 Eloise guided our driver Frances and her husband Lee to explore county roads between Crabbs Prairie and Shiro to show us land that had been part of the original 320 acres received by Benjamin W. Robinson for his service in the Texas War for Independence from Mexico in 1836. Frances is Eloise’s first cousin on the Robinson side of the family – she and Lee were always up for a field trip. I promise I could never find this property again, but I did take a picture of this typical Texas vista which I then knew had belonged to my 3rd. great-grandfather.

    Eloise prepared refreshments after our field trip – wine a must

    Ending the trip with dinner at Mexican restaurant

    seated l. to r. Lee and Frances, Eloise – standing lucky me

    Pretty and I visited Eloise in February this year when we made a short trip to Texas after a five year absence. I talk about going home every year, but circumstances make the plane ride more difficult and, of course, there was the Covid epidemic. Regardless, it was a joy to see and talk to Eloise, her precious daughter-in-law Donna and her great-great-granddaughter Sophia who reminded us of our Molly. Eloise at nearly 98 years of age recognized us, interacted with us and turned the conversation to what we shared in common: family. She reminded me that our family had given us a good start in life, values to treasure, to always remember where we came from.

    Eloise had many challenges in her later years. She was predeceased by her husband Chester and son Bill but was loved with more than a love by Donna, her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. No one could have done more for her than Donna who was her primary caregiver and life preserver.

    To me, Eloise will remain a woman of substance, a woman who “loved her family with every ounce of her being.” No flags fly at half mast today for her funeral as they do for the Queen of England’s passing, but in my mind I see a flag of hope for future generations of cousins who will remember her spirit as a guide for moving forward.

    RIP, Eloise. I will miss you.