I'll Call It Like I See It

by sheila morris

For any who want more, complete list of all posts by month since 2011

  • Charly’s New Back Yard


    OMG – do you drink it?

  • M-O-V-I-N-G…means Big Changes


    Oops! No bed for our afternoon nap.

    Sleeping on the floor?

    So this is what MOVING is about.

    So far, I’m unimpressed.

  • no Thank You Notes this year, instead…


    My friend Linda texted me to please not send a thank you note to her for her gifts this year because we are family – no notes necessary. I had to laugh when I read the text because of my relationship to my mother Granny Selma and her obsession with thank you notes.

    When I was growing up in the 1950s and 1960s my mother was very big on manners, etiquette, making sure we did the “right” thing in every social situation. She felt being from a small town did not justify inappropriate behavior – ever. We might not have money, but she insisted we have manners.

    She was a stickler for a thank you note for EVERYTHING. Not just gifts, parties, meals, gatherings, visits…no sirree. If you sent us a Christmas card, my mother wrote you a Thank You note. Well, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration, but maybe not.

    Those notes included family, too. If I gave my folks a gift, for Christmas, I got a thank you note. If they gave me a gift, she expected a thank you note. And not one the next month. She wanted that note in her hands within a week.

    So imagine my surprise in the last few years of her life when she still had her right mind that she began saying, Now let’s don’t write each other thank you notes this year. What? Did I hear that correctly? NO THANK YOU NOTES for the YEAR! Sacrilege. I should have suspected she was on the verge of something horrible right that minute.

    This year I have had a Birthday/Anniversary week with multiple gifts, dinners, lunches, and cards from a host of friends who have celebrated with me and Pretty during the past several days and I have fought the urge to write each of you individual notes a la Granny Selma.

    Instead, I took pictures of many of the cards I received and am writing a very personal Thank You via cyberspace. I very much appreciate each of you – and you know who you are. We’re family.

  • Ministers of Happiness


    Today is Easter Sunday, and I tried very hard to come up with an Easter recollection to complement my deep reservoir of Thanksgiving memories which flow from me like rivers to oceans or even my Christmas memories which aren’t quite up to Thanksgiving levels but still trickle in through little streams of consciousness. The best I had was clothes…and music.

    I can visualize frilly pink Easter dresses, white lacy Easter bonnets, snug-fitting white Easter gloves, shiny white Easter shoes and a matching white Bible to carry to church. I had won the white Bible the summer before during Vacation Bible School as a reward for memorizing the most scripture verses in my class. My name was engraved in gold letters which stood out nicely against the white leather Bible.

    The dress was home-made by my paternal grandmother Ma who tortured me with fittings several times before the actual final inspection was made and the dress approved to her satisfaction. She and my mother coordinated the remainder of the ensemble with a great deal of whispering behind my back because they wanted to avoid the exasperated facial expressions I made whenever they brought up the subject of the Easter “outfit.” Horrors – please don’t talk about that.

    The Easter outfit was like a Halloween costume to me. I might as well have been dressed in a white cowboy hat wearing a black Lone Ranger mask sitting astride my stick-horse yelling Hi, ho, Silver, Away periodically during the congregational singing at our Southern Baptist church. Instead, I was sitting demurely between my grandmother and granddaddy singing Up from the Grave He Arose. As a matter of fact, I definitely would have preferred The Lone Ranger look over the Easter outfit.

    But I had to wear the clothes to hear the music, and I loved the music even then. The old rugged cross was exchanged for a crown, because he lived I could live forever, just as I was without one plea I came because his blood was shed for me, I lifted up my heart to sing hosanna, hosanna to the king because of the amazing grace that found me when I was blind and could not see. The hymns had 18th. century harmony which I knew nothing about at the time I learned to sing them, but that lack of composition understanding didn’t interfere with my love of the experience.

    Even the sermon on Easter Sunday morning was hopeful – once you got over the nasty business of the crucifixion – the minister was so happy about the resurrection. Really, he seemed to me to be more joyful at Easter than he was at Christmas when the tidings of great joy were proclaimed by the angels.

    My first Easter Sunday was the day I was born on April 21, 1946, which makes this one my 71st.  Unbelievable.  Where does time really go. I miss my family and the singing at the little church today. I don’t miss the Easter outfit.

    Although it isn’t my birthday, I am going to make an Easter wish. My wish for all of us today in the midst of a world that is fraught with monumental uncertainties is that we become ministers of happiness founded on our own good health, good relationships, erasing inequalities where we can, creating trust in our communities and standing against injustice whenever we witness it. One by one, as the saying goes.

    Resurrect hope today.

     

     

  • Experience the Power of a G.I.R.L.!


    Sunday afternoon, the 9th. of April, 2017 was an absolutely gorgeous spring day in downtown Columbia, South Carolina. The weather was perfect with temperatures in the mid 70s and cloudless blue skies. It was a great day to be outdoors which is where thousands of people gathered on Main Street to celebrate the good times of bringing the NCAA Women’s Basketball Championship trophy home to the University of South Carolina with a ticker-tape parade minus the ticker-tape.

    Yahoo – we party!! Pretty and I were there as were our Gay Boys Basketball Buddies and #1 Fan Gamecock Matt. Without realizing where we were sitting, Pretty plopped our small folding chairs right next to a local TV news team which was covering the parade so not only did we have great seats, we also were interviewed by a TV newsman and once again made local news. (That interview can be viewed on social media if anyone is curious.)

    We watched every car carrying VIPs,  every motorcycle, a live rooster (Sir Spur, the Gamecock) riding in a small driver-less motorized vehicle, a deputy sheriff on a real big horse, A’ja Wilson’s DJ brother playing festive music, dancing troupes, Cocky the Gamecock mascot and tons of floats – green ones, red ones, silver ones, gold ones – truly any color imaginable in the midst of a caravan of colors as they passed by us on Main Street which was their route to the State Capitol grounds for the closing ceremonies.

    I love a parade – Pretty will vouch for me. I just love a parade. But I particularly love a parade that celebrates women and their achievements. I took 129 pictures at the parade and worked on them last night while Pretty was talking on her cell phone with the Apple Help person for two hours trying to figure out how to make her Mac happy again. Poor Pretty.

    As I cropped and re-cropped the images, I was struck by the power these basketball heroes gave to the little girls, teenage girls, grown-up women and yes, even us eat-up-with-elderly older women as we celebrated their victories in one grand final gesture of appreciation.

    If I could, I would put all of these images in my post today, but alas, I know that’s asking for a lot of attention which won’t happen. So, as a compromise, I’m choosing my favorites.

    The G.I.R.L. Power float

    Bring the babies, too – even when they nod off

    It’s a Family Affair

    (photo courtesy of Pretty)

    Dancing in the streets

    Women on motorcycles – 

    rev ’em up, Sisters!

    I spy Cocky!!

    Gamecock Legend Sheila Foster is jubilant… 

     other basketball alumni enjoy the ride with her

    Our Heroes: The Stars of the Show

    Kaela Davis, A’ja Wilson and Allisha Gray

    These girls and the team made basketball history

    Coach Dawn Staley high above the crowds

    where a true basketball Queen belongs

    along with the Team that made her the Queen

    I’m afraid I was too short to see the action on the Capitol steps as the parade came to an end, but that was okay. I found my sights away from the stage.

    This little girl had a bird’s eye view

    This one did, too

    a Pretty face in the crowd

    taking a break to tie her shoes

    a teenager tweeting her pics

    an older woman rode her bike to celebrate

    Gamecock colors – complete with pom poms

    These girls are champions, too

     Which one of these girls will be our next Congresswoman, Olympic medalist, astronaut, teacher, preacher, policewoman, Forbes 500 CEO, President of the United States? The mind races with the possibilities for their futures…and for ours…because we’ve experienced the magic of G.I.R.L. power today.

    Whew! We are exhausted – time for us to ease on down the road to Casa de Canterbury where we should be p-a-c-k-i-n-g instead of partying. Oh, well. You only go around once.

    Go Gamecocks!!

    Pretty and our parade chairs heading home

    it’s a wrap for this unforgettable season