I'll Call It Like I See It

by sheila morris

Category: Humor

  • the desperate place

    the desperate place


    This is the language that speaks to you in the desperate place. A place from which you lack the means or power to escape. A place in which you realize that someone you love does not, and will not ever, love you back. A place in which you acknowledge your steep falling off in health, or strength, or status. A place in which you must accept that you are losing ground, losing face. (Gail Godwin)

    Godwin writes in her book Getting to Know Death she has experienced “the desperate place” four times in her 70+ years. Hmm. She must not have called the ABC customer service line recently. Heck, I was in the desperate place more than four times this afternoon when I called to try to lower my monthly bill.

    I spoke to a computerized voice that chastised me for not using their website. I want to speak to a person, I insisted, but I don’t think you’re the one. I want a REAL person, I said several times and then agreed to let them call me at their convenience since the wait time was thirty minutes. Desperate place #1. I lacked the power to escape.

    Twenty-five minutes later another computerized voice called to say someone would talk to me in a few minutes when they were available. Desperate place #2. Wasn’t that why I was getting called back? Because there was a live person about to talk to me. I had to face the fact I was losing ground here.

    Several minutes passed before a cheerful woman, clearly real, asked me again why I was calling and how could she help. After reviewing my credentials which had previously been recorded by the computerized voice, she asked me what I liked to watch on TV. I gave her a quick rundown of Pretty’s and my favorites. I made sure to mention the Tennis Channel and ESPN since the Australian Open is on. She suggested I bundle my phone with my internet and TV. Desperate place #3. I was quickly in a steep decline of status with this woman, confident she would never love me. She recommended I speak with the Loyalty Program for discounts.

    Oh, the Loyalty Program discount person isn’t in this department – I’ll have to transfer you to them, the woman who would never love me said. Lengthy wait on hold again before being connected to another woman who was not only cheerful but also had a soothing voice. She wanted to know what she could do for me today. Desperate place #4. Seriously? You don’t know why I’m calling? I was losing face big time.

    The Loyalty Program discount person managed to shave $25 from my monthly bill but recommended bundling my cell phone with my internet and TV. Sound familiar? Desperate place #5. I apparently lacked the means or power to escape unless I acquiesced to look into the joys of bundling which I said I would do.

    Although I have poked fun today at Godwin’s desperate place, I understand what she intended and imagine everyone has been to those places when our losses overwhelm us, when we lack the means or power to escape the pain, when the person we love will never love us back, when our health and strength decline, and when we feel the ground slipping away.

    My wish for everyone in 2025 is the desperate places are far and few between, as my cousin Martin used to say.

    Thank you for hanging with us for another year.

  • field trip!

    field trip!


    Once upon a time there were two little girls who lived in two different places with one common bond: their grandmothers. What to do with seven-year-old Collins who was visiting her grandmothers at Lake Murray and five-year-old Ella on a freezing cold day outside? Why, perfect day for an indoor field trip to the South Carolina State Museum!

    granddaughters learn how rocks are made at State Museum field trip

    (Saturday, January 11, 2025)

    Naynay hovers over Collins and Ella at petting zoo in spring of 2023

    Two years earlier the grandmothers had taken the girls to an exotic animals petting zoo at Eudora Wildlife Safari Park in Salley, South Carolina. They both loved the tractor with the huge tires.

    granddaughters share ocean secrets late summer of 2023

    Later that year the girls teamed up for a magical beach trip with their grandmothers at Folly Beach where they explored the waves crashing around their short little legs.

    what a difference two years make! those little legs much taller!

    tour guide Kaka brought State Museum to life for the granddaughters

    grandmothers Kitty, Kaka and Naynay with Collins and Ella

    at planetarium aurora show

    the museum had a tractor tire, too, and we loved to play in it

    the museum had four floors – where are the grandmothers?

    so Ella, if we stand right here on this black thing,

    the man in the submarine moves

    Nana had to work in her antique empire the day of the Museum Field Trip, but Ella will be sure to tell her about her play date with Collins when she sees her this week. We all missed Nana who loves a good Field Trip.

    Until we meet again…

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

    The wild fires in California have been catastrophic for so many Americans – we feel their pain as they return to a home that no longer exists, a life as they knew it is gone. We ask for clarity of thought and calmness of purpose for those experiencing losses as they make life changing decisions.

  • Untitled post 22952

    “Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

    Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse…”

    Blah, blah. Blah, blah. Boring, super boring. Everybody knows the 1823 Moore version, but who knows the 1963 Morris version??

    My daddy always loved poetry and music so when he gave me these words at Christmas my senior year in high school, I wasn’t surprised. I don’t remember if he mentioned they were part of the lyrics from a song called A Letter from Santa written by Mickey Maguire (more remembered for Christmas classic I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus). I do remember I laughed out loud. I probably also couldn’t believe my dad had actually written the word “ass” in something he gave me – my parents refused to use what they considered to be vulgar language; I’m sure “ass” was a hard no. Maybe this rite of passage made it funnier to me.

    But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

    Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

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

    For the grown-ups.

  • We Three Kings of Cardinal Drive

    We Three Kings of Cardinal Drive


    Jesus saith unto him, Rise, take up thy bed, and walk. (Gospel of John)

    Every morning at five o’clock King Carl saith unto me rise, take up thy bed off thy back, and walk…to the den to let me outside for my morning constitutional, and be quick about it.

    then he follows me to the kitchen, waits patiently while I make my coffee

    inseparable cats Batman and Robin want breakfast asap

    (before I take my first sip of coffee – spoilitis)

    I am ready to eat, says the third King of Cardinal Drive

    We three kings of Orient are;
    bearing gifts we traverse afar,
    field and fountain, moor and mountain,
    following yonder star.

    O star of wonder, star of light,
    star with royal beauty bright,
    westward leading, still proceeding,
    guide us to thy perfect light.

    —- John Henry Hopkins, Jr. (1857)

    oops, no star – we’ll settle for the moon on Christmas Eve morning

    Batman and Robin are two male feral cats that guard our carport in exchange for food and a warm place to sleep. Unfortunately, their guard duties do not extend to our car and truck, but hey, you can’t have it all, can you, Santa?

  • the battle my grandmother lost

    the battle my grandmother lost


    my early years in my hometown of rural Richards, Texas

    (circa 1949 – when I was three years old)

    (this picture should have been a clue, but my grandmother ignored it)

     

    a birthday party dress made by my grandmother (circa 1951)

    my grandmother made this dress and a  picture postcard of me

    for her family Easter card in 1949

    Bless her heart. My grandmother tried and tried to reshape my fashions which upon reflection she probably hoped would reshape my life. One of the most dreaded phrases my mother ever spoke to me – the one that made me cringe-was “Your grandmother is making you a new dress and needs you to walk down to her house to try it on. No arguments, no whining, just go.”

    I absolutely hated to stand on her little stool while she endlessly pinned away to make sure  the pattern she bought from a grand clothing store in much bigger town Navasota  fit perfectly on my small body. She pulled, tugged here and there, made me turn around as she measured whatever cloth she had purchased when she bought the pattern. I prayed silently that the aroma I smelled was her pineapple fried pies…the only possible redemption from the hell of being poked and prodded for a new dress I didn’t want to wear.

    My grandmother Betha Day Robinson Morris and I lived within shouting distance of each other in the tiny town (pop. about 500) of Richards until my dad found a new job that took us out of the place I called home when I was 13 years old. Our new home in Brazoria was less than two hours from Richards so we came back every other week for most of my teenage years. Distance did not deter my grandmother from her sewing, however.

    She usually managed to have something for me to try on whenever we visited. I finally surrendered to her passion for sewing because as I grew older I came to understand sewing was an important part of her life, but to this day I dread hearing Pretty say she brought something home for me to try on.

    my grandmother surveys her granddaughters

    before Easter Sunday church services in 1963

    I was 17 years old and wearing a dress my grandmother made for me

    while my younger cousin Melissa modeled her store-bought outfit

    My grandmother continued to sew for me until I was in my twenties. Every Christmas she wrapped a large box in her best wrapping paper and favorite bow saved from the previous Christmas to give to me. I always opened with feigned surprise at the dress she made for me to wear to church and praised her for being able to still find the perfect pattern and material for me even when I wasn’t there to try it on.

    I’ll never forget the last time I opened a gift of clothing she made for me. She had made a pants suit – unbelievable. I could see she was pleased with herself for breaking from the dress tradition she wanted me to wear to making the pants she now understood would forever be my choice of clothes. The year was 1968 – I was 22 years old – my grandmother would have been 55. The pants suit represented a rite of passage for both of us.

    Unfortunately, I never could bring myself to wear the pants suit which was made with a hideous polyester fabric and a horrible bright green and white large zig zag pattern. I couldn’t bring myself to wear it, but I carried it with me around the country wherever I moved for the next 30 years. I would carefully hang it in my closet as a daily reminder of  the love my grandmother gave me for as long as she lived.

    My grandmother Betha was a flawed individual but what I wouldn’t give today to hear my mother say “Sheila Rae, your grandmother is making you a new dress and wants you to try it on. No arguments, no whining, just go.”

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

    Those were the days, my friends – and now we have the opportunities to create new memories for our granddaughters we celebrate not only during the holiday season but also whenever we see them. What will they remember? I wonder.