I'll Call It Like I See It

by sheila morris

Category: Life

  • Pretty Set Free in Time for Thanksgiving!


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    Autumn colors at Casa de Canterbury

    Pretty escaped the confinement of her hospital bed and the Magic Motion Machine yesterday afternoon and was deliriously happy to be liberated!

    When she went to her therapy session after her release, everyone was pleased that she can now bend her knee to 126 whereas before her procedure she could only do 106. I am not sure what all these numbers actually mean, but I do know the optimum number range is 120 – 130 for knee bending because Pretty told me so herself, and now she is smack dab in the middle of the range so all is well at the moment.

    As Thanksgiving rolls around for us at Casa de Canterbury, we find ourselves planning an unusual family gathering here.  (Yes, well, the family is unusual like most families, and it’s highly unusual for everyone to be here.) We normally drive to the Upstate to the party room of the First Baptist Church of Fingerville, South Carolina to share a meal with Pretty’s mother’s remaining family members plus our son and his wife, her dad, her sister and brother-in-law. Since that would be a tough trip for her to make this year, her immediate family members are coming here.

    While Pretty was at her second post-Magic Machine PT this morning, I ordered the ham and turkey from the helpful folks at Honey Baked Hams. Yum.

    As my regular cyberspace friends already know, Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday of the year. I think that love affair began when I was a little girl living with my grandmother who started roasting a turkey in a very special small oven in the wee hours of the morning and I awoke to the aroma of that baking bird plus a variety of fresh apple and cherry pies which would be served with an extra sprinkling of sugar and a small shaving of butter on top of the crust when it was done.

    I slept in a tiny enclosed porch next to the kitchen at my grandmother’s house until I was thirteen years old, and the only partition between the kitchen and my bed was a folding  piece of plastic that looked like an accordion when it was closed. The unbelievable smells from the kitchen bypassed the plastic curtain and enveloped me when I awoke on Thanksgiving morning. Who wouldn’t love a holiday that began like that…

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    Spike will be the official Family Greeter for us

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    We have much to be thankful for this Thanksgiving. Pretty is home, and I am still able to take care of her with the help of an army of friends who have stood by our side in the past few months to support us with taxi services, food, flowers and general fun to lighten our burdens and anxieties. Bless all of your hearts for all you have done and continue to do.

    Thank you again to our cyberspace followers who have had an ongoing bond with The Red Man and his family for the past six years. We love you all and wish all of you a Happy Thanksgiving with your family and friends. Count us among those.

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  • Breaking News – Pretty Update


    Please pardon this interruption, but so many of our friends and family have asked about Pretty’s personal saga with her knee replacement which now includes another hospital stay this week for a second procedure three months after the original surgery. Her doctor assured me today all was well, and so I will take him at his word, although I seem to recall this was the same remark he made after the first operation. Hm.

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    Pretty’s old knee in happier times 

    with Smokey Lonesome Ollie in Texas

    Pretty is connected to a gazillion machines with blinking lights and flashing numbers that apparently have some meaning to somebody somewhere, but not to Pretty or me. The most important machine is one that keeps her knee in constant motion bending it at various angles. I have named it the Constant Motion Magic Machine because it is supposed to make her knee regain flexibility following today’s manipulation by Dr. Cool and Smooth. Here’s hoping.

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    Pretty and The Red Man on Worsham Street

    (before any problems with her left knee)

    If all goes according to plan, Pretty will be home Thursday and beginning another arduous round of physical therapy. She is very determined to bend her knee to her will; I admire her for that.

    Thank you to all of you who have called, texted, visited, brought homemade brownies with homemade whipped cream to her hospital room…or delivered Dutch comfort food to Casa de Canterbury in the form of a delicious casserole filled with meat, potatoes, cheese and cabbage… or brought brand new purple and white socks to the hospital tonight in honor of the colors of the Suffragette Movement. We are so very lucky to have friends like you in our lives. For our cyberspace friends who live in other parts of the USA and other countries around the globe, bless your hearts for caring.

    Kindness is catching on – big time.

  • Try a Little Kindness


    Our household at Casa de Canterbury has suffered a post-Election Day Depression that has cast a pall on our happiness in the past week. Charly and Spike and I have tried to rally to lift her spirits, but Pretty has wrestled with her grief and discouragement and basic lack of faith in the goodness of the American people. We are a political household – actually activists in the LGBTQ movement for 30 years – and so have lost battles in our lives to bigotry and bullying rhetoric before, but I think we had wrongly believed we had as a nation moved past the hateful and harmful to the more harmonious.

    In the midst of this overwhelming gathering of dark clouds of despair, we heard a knock at our door this afternoon. Pretty went to the door and saw a younger friend of ours named Travis who stood outside the door holding a gift bag and purple flowers. Attached to the gift bag was a wonderful letter, and I wanted to offer a portion of his letter as a perfect example of what is meant by trying a little kindness.

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    Hello my friends,

    I have been thinking of you. While I have seen a lot of craziness posted on Facebook and through other media over the results of the Presidential Election, I wanted to spread hope and comfort. So, that is why this Democrat Care package has landed on your stoop…

    Purple flowers – look at the beauty of these fine gifts of our Earth…today I want you to see how beautiful the purple is when red and blue come together…

    Chocolate…lifesavers…a nice pen…you know the pen is mightier than the sword. Use it and your voice to protect reproductive rights, LGBTQ rights, criminal reform, healthcare reform…

    …if the chocolate does not work, ditch the flowers, wash the glass and pour a big glass of your favorite drink (wine, bourbon and Diet Coke all count). Drink that one glass and during that drink allow for anger, self-pity and worry, BUT never despair! When you are done reach out to me and let’s see how we can make a difference!

    All my love,

    Travis

    Pretty and I were both moved by the letter, flowers, gift bag goodies and a card that all combined to make a Care package we will never forget. As he left, I looked at the sky and thought I detected a few rays of sunlight piercing the darkness that had been hovering over the gigantic oaks in our front yard. I think Pretty saw them, too.

    Kindness really matters to everyone. Pass it on.

     

     

  • Back to the Basics: Seinfeld, Hot Dog Baskets and Yushino


    Time to focus on the basics once again following the gut-wrenching defeat that was Election Day at Casa de Canterbury. Pretty and I stayed up until 3 o’clock this morning to watch the results by ourselves after our last two survivors from the disastrous Victory Party gave up a little after midnight. The small gathering got off to a rollicking start around 7 p.m. as the smiley Rachel Maddow and Brian Williams practically glowed with excitement and anticipation of the final Glass Ceiling having a big old crack in it. Just like the media, our friends came in with Victory on their minds. 

    We had tons of food and drink and dessert was a wonderful cake decorated with pink roses. “Girl Power” was what I asked the cake decorator to write in pink on the white icing across the top – and thought how clever I was. Pretty insisted we couldn’t cut the cake until Hillary Clinton won, and we all said that was fine. Plenty of other things to eat.

    Our friends Nekki and Francie brought a gigantic bottle of champagne which we kept chilled in the refrigerator to drink when we sliced the cake. Plenty of other things to drink.

    The American political process was in full display unfolding before our eyes.

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    As the evening wore on, Rachel and Brian’s expressions began to shift from joyful to puzzled to we can’t believe what we’re seeing to shit house mouse. And our little group watched as the Democratic Party defied the pollsters and pundits and were able to snatch Defeat from the jaws of Victory in this the 2016 Presidential Election Year.

    About midway to midnight, I asked Pretty if we could go ahead and cut the cake, but Pretty said absolutely not. Things would turn around soon. Everyone else nodded…but with less conviction and longing glances at the cake.

    At 10 the mood in our living room was becoming as chilly as our champagne, and a few people left to go home to watch in the privacy of their own living rooms. Who could blame them.

    But then two latecomers arrived and that helped us focus on something other than the returns for a few minutes as they settled in with food and drinks. 

    What about the cake? I asked, but Pretty held out until around midnight when she put her head in her hands and began crying that it was over. You might as well cut the cake. Which I did – but by then no one really wanted a piece. We never opened the champagne.

    And so today I’ve decided to put the election and cake behind me and return to the basic comfort food groups which for me means a hot dog basket complete with fries and slaw from Rush’s, a local burger chain. My TV was turned to re-runs of Seinfeld tonight instead of the 24/7 news channel MSNBC which has lost me for the foreseeable future. Goodbye to Rachel and Brian for a while. I’d like to say it was fun but then, it wasn’t. 

    As this day draws thankfully to a close, I will turn my attention to playing the numbers game Yushino with my friends online. I find numbers to be more reliable on the Yushino board than they may be elsewhere so that makes me happy.

    And what makes me even happier is my wife and dogs Charly and Spike are already in bed waiting for me. That’s true Girl Power.

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    Tomorrow is another day, and I remain hopeful with Maya Angelou that I will still rise to meet it.

  • Dog Catcher Snatches Election Eve Exuberance


    spike-peeking

    Our dog Spike is a Texas immigrant to South Carolina. We brought him from Worsham Street where he was unceremoniously dumped by an unknown person – possibly a UPS driver or FedEx person since these trucks always seem to annoy him more than anyone in the world. They are the object of much barking and, if the opportunity presents itself with the back door open, he will race through the doggie door, jump the fence in out back yard, and tear after the delivery trucks as if chasing after the Hounds of the Baskerville. Other than his fence jumping, he is a very sweet dog who makes few demands of us.

    Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?

    In the last two weeks, I’ve noticed Spike spends most of his outside time sitting or lying down in front of our wrought iron gate in the back yard gazing through the bars to the street behind us. He’s always been fascinated with Manning Avenue because it has a lot more activity – people walking by, cars driving by, neighbors visiting on their front porches – than the less interesting Canterbury Road our house faces, but he’s never been quite so fascinated with “gate gazing.”

    So I made an effort to solve the mysterious attraction and found that there were three little dogs running up and down the street and one of them made friends with Spike who was a Goliath compared to the smaller dog, but the little fellow liked to visit Spike at the back gate and/or on the street whenever Spike was out on a fence jumping adventure. The little dogs always ran to the same house and I assumed it was their home. Ding, ding, ding. Incorrect assumption.

    This afternoon the Dog Catcher came through our neighborhood and parked in front of the house where the little dogs were staying and scooped them up one by one in front of the house while Spike who had jumped the fence and raced to their rescue barked at me who was unaware of the drama unfolding and simply carrying the garbage bag out the back gate to the dumpster when I heard the Dog Catcher hollering at me. Hey, do you know who that big dog belongs to?

    Yes, he’s mine, I said and began to try to railroad Spike to the back gate. But he wasn’t cooperating so I had to go inside our casa to locate Pretty and ask her to help me corral our dog before he was also scooped up by the Dog Catcher. Pretty to the rescue. With one final look back at his friends, Spike was reluctantly collared and brought safely inside.

    Tonight he is inconsolable. He walked slowly to his crate after he ate and stayed there for the rest of this Election Eve as Pretty and I watched POTUS and FLOTUS and POTUS-in-waiting at a huge rally in Philadelphia… and became very emotional over the possibility of the first woman President in the White House. Thankfully, the long arduous, often distasteful campaign is over and Election Day is here.

    But Spike will have none of it tonight. No joy in Mudville. The Mighty Casey had struck out in his efforts to save his buddies from disaster. Election Eve anticipation and exuberance have been snatched from Casa de Canterbury by a Dog Catcher.

    Shit house mouse, as The Red Man was fond of saying. We need to make a plan.