I'll Call It Like I Feel It

by sheila morris

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

  • 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 

     

  • Somewhere Over the Rainbow


    “Hey, Dorothy? What’s up?”

    “I’m off to see the Man in the White House because I’m lost and can’t find my Auntie Michele,” said Dorothy. “Do I know you?”

    “Yeah, you know me. I’m Silas Crow. I sit on the back row of your English class and make strange noises.”

    “Oh, of course. The notorious Silas Crow. You don’t have a brain in your head,” said Dorothy.

    “I know, I know. That’s what I’ve been told. Do you think the Man in the White House could give me a brain?” asked Silas Crow.

    “Tra-la, tra-la. You are welcome to come with me and find out. The Man in the White House is supposed to be very wise.”

    Dorothy and Silas Crow began to walk together. They walked and walked.

    “Hey, Dudes, take a hike. Get outta my space. Where you going?”

    “We’re off to see the Man in the White House,” replied Silas Crow. “Dorothy told me the Man was very wise and could give me a brain.”

    “Oh, she did, did she? Well, this is where you little numskulls took a wrong turn,” growled Tim Mann who took a menacing step toward Dorothy and Silas Crow.

    Dorothy looked straight at Tim Mann and said, “Looks like someone has no heart. Shame on you for being so mean. Silas Crow may not be very bright, but at least he’s not a bully like you. If you go with us, maybe the Man in the White House could give you a heart.”

    Silas Crow nodded vigorously. “You need an attitude adjustment, Dude.”

    Tim Mann rolled his eyes but then studied the two standing before him.  Finally, he shook his head and thought, maybe I need new friends.

    “Let’s roll before I change my mind,” he snapped.

    “Tra-la, tra-la,” said Dorothy. “We are off to see the Man in the White House who is supposed to have a very big heart.”

    By and by the trio came upon a very large grey dog with huge floppy ears. He was sitting in the middle of their path, staring at them out of one blue eye and one brown one. He looked quite ferocious. Dorothy, Silas Crow and Tim Mann stopped in their tracks.

    Dorothy was the first to regain her composure and whistled for the dog to come to her. The dog bolted in the opposite direction.

    “Fraidy Dog, Fraidy Dog,” mocked Tim Mann who had no heart.

    Silas Crow joined in the chant because he had no brain.

    Dorothy gave them an icy stare and called after the frightened animal, “Please come back and go with us. We are going to see the Man in the White House – maybe he could give you courage.”

    As the group turned to resume their journey, the cowardly dog followed a few paces behind.

    “Tra-la, tra-la,” sang Dorothy happily. “We are off to see the brave, kind, wise Man in the White House who will give Fraidy Dog courage, Tim Mann a new heart, Silas Crow a new brain and me a map to find my way home to Auntie Michele.”

    The little foursome traveled far and wide, thither and yon, until finally one day they reached the White House. Much to everyone’s surprise, the White House was surrounded by a very high fence and armed guards at the gate. Silas Crow, Tim Mann, and Fraidy Dog looked at Dorothy.

    Not to be outdone, Dorothy boldly approached one of the guards and asked, “Excuse me, kind sir, but we have come a long way to speak with the Man in the White House. Do you know where he is?”

    The guard shrugged and said, “You might try MahRahLahgo.”

    Dorothy woke up.

     

  • The Hereafter – Grimes County Style


    Changing flowers in Fairview Cemetery today

    for Granny Selma’s parents

    and for my dad, mom and their parents

    (my friend Tinabeth came to help)

    Tinabeth trimmed the crepe myrtles…

    while I arranged the flowers

    (and Pretty took pictures)

    Spike and Charly ran so fast that the 

    Hounds couldn’t catch ’em

    Hey, where are our names?

    The view from our family plot is truly fair

    When Pretty and I got to the cemetery this morning, there was a note under a stone at our grave that read Sheila, here’s my phone number. Call me. It was signed by Warren Wood and dated 03-28-17. I picked up my cell phone and gave him a call.

    Warren was one of my favorite people when I was growing up. He lived up the dirt road from us, played basketball on my dad’s high school team, and usually sat with me every Friday night at the Richards Cafe where his mother made the best hamburgers ever. I called him, and he said he was still in the area at his house in Anderson and would meet me at the cemetery – which he did. I hadn’t seen Warren in 60 years, but we have kept in contact since my first book Deep in the Heart was published in 2007. Wow. Such a great visit.

    His parents are near mine

    Being in the old familiar places with old familiar friends was a highlight of our trip to Montgomery and Grimes Counties for the past two days, but tomorrow it’s time to say goodbye to family and friends once more as we turn north toward Dallas and our Final Four destination.

    Go Gamecocks!!!

  • Daniel Boone? No – Daniel Pratt…


    In 1819 a twenty-year-old man from New Hampshire finished a four-year apprenticeship in architecture and heeded the words of Horace Greeley to leave his New England home and go west, young man, go west.  He ended up in Savannah, Georgia.

    Twenty years later this same man would leave his Georgia home with a wife, two slaves, enough materials to build 50 cotton gins and the knowledge necessary to run a plant that manufactured them. His name was Daniel Pratt.

    We stayed last night in the town Daniel created for the workers in his cotton gin plant: Prattville, Alabama. Pretty took us on a tour of the historic downtown area this morning. We love an historic downtown area – particularly one as beautiful as this one. Imagine what this looked like in 1839 – before the Civil War – one man’s dream.

    Daniel Pratt was one of Alabama’s first industrialists

    Daniel has his own personal historic district now

    My friend had a bird’s eye view of the falls

    …and sat on the remnants of history

    Guess who else was from Prattville besides Daniel Pratt?

    Mustang Sally Wilson Pickett, Jr.

    Had to say goodbye to the wisteria and Prattville

    On the road again – Charly perches atop Yeti cooler

    Getting closer…

    Rest area, my you-know-what

    I am so tired. Please, God, get me out of this vehicle.

    Spike’s prayers were answered…we have stopped for the night in Slidell, Louisiana, which is 30 miles from New Orleans.

    We are sneaking up on it.

  • Another Post Card from the Edge…of Time


    March 21, 1907

    Dear Luke, I hope you are behaving yourself. You see what can happen if you don’t. Please come home soon. Your wife, Bessie