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
  • saying goodbye to Carl – the day before

    saying goodbye to Carl – the day before


    “I came to cheer you up,” announced three-year-old Molly as she pulled me the three steps from the carport to the back door of the kitchen. I told her thank you so much and how happy I was to see her, how much I’d missed her and her big sister five-year-old Ella who was galloping ahead of us with her mother, Caroline, and Nana. Molly’s words made me smile – she had already cheered me.

    Caroline had called earlier in the afternoon to say she and the girls were coming over to cook dinner for us that night since we had told her and our son Drew we had asked a veterinarian to make a house call to help us say a final farewell to our little Carl the next day. Since she had been the vet we used when we needed this assistance with our big guy Spike six weeks ago, she was familiar with our location and made the appointment for Friday, the 9th. of May.

    The little girls were like a tornado of energy – their laughter, moving at warp speed all over the house and back yard leaving a path of destruction in their “tree house” and our den – provided a welcome distraction for Pretty and me from the pall that enveloped our house for the past few days of waiting for the inevitable. Caroline got busy in the kitchen and cooked a delicious shrimp creole dish for us. For dessert, she’d even brought a yummy key lemon pie.

    “Let’s take a family photo,” exclaimed Ella when her mother said it was time to go home. After all, it was a school night. Caroline shook her head, said it was past their bedtime, but I chimed in with Ella and argued I thought a picture was a great idea. I felt Ella was trying to postpone getting in the car to leave, but it was the first time she had asked for a family photo at our house so I was 100% on board.

    Ella, Nana, Naynay, and Molly

    I had hoped Carl would stay outside with us for the family picture, but we took too much time getting fixed. When we came inside and the girls were about to leave, I said for them to be sure to give Carl a hug on their way out, and Ella said, “Carl is going over the rainbow bridge tomorrow,” as she bent to give him a hug. Molly took off one of the four necklaces she’d found in Nana’s jewelry inventory and draped it on Carl’s neck. Caroline quickly intervened and gave the necklace to me.

    The girls ran to the car with their mother while Nana and I followed to say goodbye to them. We heard Caroline laugh and asked her what was going on. “Ella said she hoped Carl didn’t run into Spike over the rainbow bridge because there could be a bad fight.” Nana reassured Ella that nobody would get mad at each other on the other side of the rainbow bridge. Caroline added if anybody did get angry, there would be baby gates like Nana and Naynay had in their house to keep Spike and Carl apart.

    Nana and I agreed later that Molly, Ella and Caroline had cheered us, the perfect distraction for the sorrows to come in less than twenty-four hours.

  • the miracle of Dick and Jane

    the miracle of Dick and Jane


    Once upon a time there was a little girl named Ella who was five years old. She lived with her Daddy and Mommy and younger sister Molly and their dog, Sadie, in a city called Columbia which was in a state named South Carolina. Ella and Molly went to school every morning where they and their friends learned something new each day.

    Her grandmothers Nana and Naynay sometimes came to pick up Ella and Molly from their school in the afternoon. Nana and Naynay always asked the little girls about their day at school.

    Each week Ella told Nana and Naynay the letter of the alphabet she was learning until finally she had finished all the letters and could write the whole alphabet. Nana and Naynay were so excited to hear this news! The teacher had also taught Ella how to sound out the letters she was learning to write.

    One of Ella and Molly’s favorite books was the book about Dick and Jane that Naynay read to them in the car on their way home from school.

    Now Ella tried to follow along to understand how the alphabet letters made words. She wanted to read the book by herself when the magic came to her one afternoon last week.

    The kitten’s picture was a hint, but five-year-old Ella wasn’t focused on it. Instead, she looked intently at the bold letters below: P-u-f-f. She said each letter and sounded it out like she had been taught in her class at school. Puh-uh-ff.

    Puff!! she exclaimed with a look on her face that was unforgettable. Wonder. Surprise. Joy. In amazement she looked at her grandmother and asked, Naynay, how did I know that word?

    Nana and Naynay were thrilled and told Ella she had begun to solve the mysteries of the universe because she was learning to read. Since everyone was smiling and happy, Molly was happy, too.

    Ella closed the book, still smiling, not really concerned what mysteries of the universe meant, but asked if anyone brought cookies.

  • please think twice – cause you ain’t right (with apologies to Bob Dylan)

    please think twice – cause you ain’t right (with apologies to Bob Dylan)


    Here’s a Dylan song dedicated to all members of the four branches of American guv’mint: executive, legislative, judicial and muskrat Sam.

    It ain’t no use to sit and wonder why, guys
    If’n you don’t know by now
    And it ain’t no use to sit and wonder why, guys
    It’ll never do somehow
    When your rooster crows at the break of dawn
    Look out your window and we’ll all be gone
    You’re the reason we’re a-traveling on
    Please think twice – cause you ain’t right.

    And it ain’t no use in turning on your lights, guys
    Those lights we never knowed
    And it ain’t no use in turning on your lights, guys
    We’re on the dark side of the road
    But we wish there was somethin’ you would do or say
    To try and make us change our minds and stay
    But we never did too much talking anyway
    Please think twice – cause you ain’t right.

    So it ain’t no use in calling out our names, guys
    Like you never done before
    And it ain’t no use in calling out our names, guys
    We can’t hear you anymore
    We’re a-thinking and a-wondering’ walking down the road
    We once loved a country, its freedoms untold
    We gave you our hearts but you wanted our souls
    Please think twice – cause you ain’t right.

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

    Slava Ukraini. For the children.

  • I’m thinking of a number

    I’m thinking of a number


    I’m thinking of a number

    Which makes me start to wonder

    What is the magic number

    Written in the sky?

    The number that is time

    Surrendered by the prime

    To centuries of decline

    Marked by colors in the sky.

    We cannot know our number

    Which causes us to ponder

    Where our minds may wander

    While we contemplate the sky.

    my friend Dawne and me at Lake Bowen yesterday –

    were we thinking of a number?

    Carl’s definitely thinking of his number these days

  • you’ve had a good ride

    you’ve had a good ride


    The exam room was smaller than most, no frills, stark white like every other doctor’s office I’d ever been in – the chair was a classic stackable with no arms. I imagined a long uncomfortable wait as the friendly masked doctor’s assistant waltzed cheerily out of the room after taking my vital signs, leaving me with the sunny parting words: the doctor will be right in. I was dubious, of course, but my first visit to this gastroenterology practice deserved an open mind.

    To my surprise the door opened almost as soon as she closed it, and a young masked doctor entered pushing a computer sitting on a tall desktop that rolled. He squeezed his equipment into the tiny room, rolled to a stop in front of me and closed the door.

    He had the same positive energy his assistant had as we began to discuss my health concerns which were, in my mind at least, unremarkable. He tapped computer keys as we talked for a few minutes. During a lull in the conversation I asked him how long he had been a practicing physician.

    “Twenty years,” he replied.

    “Gosh,” I said. “You look very young in that mask. Plus you’re so cheerful while we’re talking about bowel movements which I assume must be the topic of most of your patient interviews. I admire your attitude.”

    He seemed pleased about the compliment, murmuring a thank you. Then he motioned to an exam table opposite my chair and asked me if I thought I could get on it. I assured him I could. I was, however, grateful for the two steps at the bottom of the table and began my climb which must have taken longer than I imagined because he chose those moments to ask me if I was retired, what I had done, what I was doing now. I answered in halting sentences that didn’t sound like me at all, I thought, but I was focused on the ascent to the exam table which I finally accomplished.

    As I was settling in a prone position, the young doctor said, “Well, you’ve had a good ride. Yes,” he continued as he checked my heart and lungs, “I hope when I’m 74 I can say the same thing. Well, I’ve had a good ride.”

    I concentrated on breathing in and out…

    Pretty was waiting for me when I joined her in the car. When I told her what the doctor said about my “good ride,” she rolled her eyes. That’s Pretty for you – she never tries to rain on a parade. I believe her comment was “whatever.”

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

    I published this piece four years ago and still laugh when I think about the gastroenterologist behind the mask. Years later I heard our son Drew echo the same sentiments about someone’s passing. Well, he said, they had a good ride. When I think about it as I enter the final year of my seventies this month, I have had quite the ride, and I’ve learned a few truths along the way.

    “No matter where I rode to, that’s where I was. The ride isn’t over for me, but it’s slowing down. Choices. Trade-offs. Chance. Timing. Priorities. Obsession. Conviction. Change. Challenges. Love. Sex. Ambition. Death. Loss. Grief. Joy. Pride. Exhilaration. The ride took me to all of these places in no apparent order and, often, more than one at the same time. What I found was that I was always there. Where am I now that I need me? I’m here, just as you are. Don’t wait for the ride – don’t hope for the ride. Saddle up now, and embrace the journey. Celebrate yourself for who you are this day. Along the way, remember to try an outrageous act or two. You may find that your world is not quite the same.”

    (Not Quite the Same Epilogue)