For any who want more, complete list of all posts by month since 2011
  • Trick or Treat? Pumpkin in Action!


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    Heard while sitting on the porch and handing out candy to scores of costumed children at Casa de Canterbury during tonight’s neighborhood twilight Trick or Treat marathon:

    “Don’t go to that house – they’re gay,” said a father to his children. And they turned away.

    I told Pretty that, even after our 40 years of activism, my feelings were still hurt.

    “Unkindness always hurts,” Pretty said.

  • Hang on Spooky, Spooky, Hang on!


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    Happy Halloween to all our friends in cyberspace – this was a surprise pumpkin left on our front porch by two very creative Hillary and Halloween supporters, Kati and Sheila Go ( as opposed to Sheila Slo). Thanks to them for the fun – our candle will be glowing for our trick-or-treaters tonight!

    8 days to Election – what can I say except relief is on the way.

     

  • Doubling Down on Debates, Dems, Demagogues, Divisiveness and Depression: I VOTED


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    The most recent polling of my personal state of mind reveals a slight shift from 52% Negative and 48% Positive to 52% Positive and 48% Negative. Jeopardy host Alex Trebek asks what are readily identifiable factors that have led to this impressive 4-point swing? The answer is the Daily Double, or the Daily Doubling Down: I voted. My depression is slightly improved without an increase in my anti-depressant medication.

    I feel like a great burden has been lifted from my scrambled brain that has been trying for the past two years to sift facts from fiction at debates in the bruising endless primaries and now bipartisan presidential debates. Is it my imagination or are the debates really longer with just two candidates onstage than they were with a gazillion candidates vying for attention. Whatever. For the most part, the candidates have been unresponsive to the moderators’ questions, and the moderators have been unresponsive to their unresponsiveness. The single most consistent feeling I have after I watch a debate is that I would have been a better moderator. I’m just saying.

    But guess what?

    What?

    I don’t even need to watch the final debate tomorrow because I already voted. Yep. One of the perks of being older than dirt is the right to vote absentee and I jumped all over that yesterday. Me and my 1.5 million early voting friends, that is.

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    Today’s buzz words for the campaigns according to the political talking heads are Doubling Down. Whatever a candidate advocates that will solidify her/his voter base (those voters who will vote for you regardless of any mention of sex, lies, emails or videotapes), now is the time to pull out all the stops, say whatever motivates your base the most and make sure your peeps vote. For example, comment on the “rigged system” of voting in general. This is Doubling Down – a populist candidate appealing to supporters who already feel like political outsiders – by attempting to suggest the voting process itself is fundamentally flawed. Oops – flawed unless you win, of course.

    I pity the Undecideds because they will, no doubt, be watching tomorrow night’s debates with the same “wishy- washyness” they’ve been watching all of the previous ones. They’ll still be hanging onto the sounds and images of every political TV commercial between now and November 08th. hoping and praying for that moment of inspiration, that pearl of wisdom which will finally push them into someone’s camp. But not me. I already voted. I can mute those suckers and the divisiveness they perpetrate.

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    No really, seriously. I voted.

     

  • Hurricane Matthew – Shake, Rattle and Roll


    Yesterday I had three unexpected phone calls from Texas  – one from my cousin Gaylen who lives in Houston, one from my sister Leora who lives in Rosenberg and one from my cousin Frances who lives in Willis. I also had a rare text from my good friend Carol who is one of the Little Women of Worsham Street in Montgomery and another text from a close  childhood friend Tinabeth who still lives in Richards where I grew up plus an email from another of my oldest Richards friends, Warren, who now lives in Arkansas.  All of them were worried about our safety at Casa de Canterbury as weather channels across the country focused on the path of Hurricane Matthew which was churning up the Caribbean wreaking destruction in Haiti and moving north toward the USA with projections for a path that would put it along our South Carolina coast Friday and Saturday. I imagine we weren’t the only ones contacted by family and friends.

    Our local TV news channels echoed the national weather bureaus with their models of Matthew’s trajectory and our governor declared a state of emergency with evacuation of the low-lying coastal areas. Interstate 26, the main highway leading out of Charleston, became so congested traffic crawled and stood still for hours. At 3:00 o’clock yesterday afternoon, the I-26 lanes moving into Charleston were re-routed so that they became outbound lanes to accommodate the heavy flow. An estimated 1.1 million people will leave the coastal areas headed north to Columbia and beyond to ride out the storm on higher ground.

    Early yesterday morning – early being a relative term – let’s say about 9 o’clock, I went to the grocery store to get our necessities: sweet ‘n low, bread, water, chips and toilet paper. The parking lot of the Kroger was packed. The carts were scarce so I knew the race was on. No problem finding sweet ‘n low. Evidently we were the only household requiring artificial sweeteners in an emergency. Bread, chips and toilet paper were more difficult but still available – water OUT. That ship had sailed. Shelves empty. Case closed.

    Not to be outdone I left the Kroger and drove down to the CVS drug store on the corner and saw more cars in the parking lot than usual but luckily they still had a dwindling supply of water. I bought two packs of bottled water but while I was waiting to be checked out, I spied the candy bar sale of buy one, get second one for a quarter. I picked up four Mounds bars and told Shirley the counter check-out lady I was now prepared for whatever the hurricane brought.

    I replaced the batteries in our four flashlights and have a lighter at the ready for our candles. I surveyed our front porch and brought in the cushions from the rocking chairs. I feel I have forgotten to do something major here at the casa, but I can’t remember what it is at the moment. If anyone has a recommendation, please comment.

    Hurricane season for us on the Atlantic Coast is from June 1st – November 30th., but don’t hold us to that schedule. Hurricanes are like babies – they can be later or earlier than planned. Most of them are harmless, but sometimes we have a Big One, a real Doozie, and then an estimated 12 million people along the Atlantic Coast are at risk for loss of life and possessions. That is apparently our situation this week as Hurricane Matthew is bearing down; and the elements are ready to shake, rattle and roll over us.

    Thanks to our family and friends for checking in with us. It makes us feel loved and reminds me that storms occur in all of our lives every day  – often we have our own personal hurricanes that have nothing to do with the weather. A phone call, a text, an email or God forbid – an actual visit – just might be the kindness that helps someone weather their storm. Be prepared.

    And stay tuned.

     

     

     

     

     

  • Texas Beer Joints – and the Undecided


    When I was a little tomboy growing up in southeast Texas, I had dreams of one day – sometime somewhere – being able to go to a beer joint. My family was Southern Baptist and the very mention of an adult alcoholic beverage would send my mother into horrible face contortions and very loud condemnations of beer and beer drinkers. Beer joints were the epitome of evil. Naturally her hyperbole aroused my curiosity.

    My mother’s aunts, my grandmother’s German sisters, worshiped at the Church of the Blessed Beer Joint, however, and I loved to listen to their tales when they came from Bright Lights, Big City Houston to visit us in No Lights, Tiny Town Richards. They were a personal trip for me…and a glimpse of possibilities for me down the road.

    The road did bring me to my share of beer joints in my adult life, although I confess I never shared the same enthusiasm for them as my Aunt Dessie and Aunt Selma did. Most of the ones I went to when I got old enough were drab, dingy, smoke-filled rooms with a jukebox, a few old tables and a bar with stools too tall for me to belly up to easily. I loved the jukebox more than the taste of the Lone Star beer.

    As the fickle finger of fate would have it, Teresa and I moved back to Texas in 2010 and bought a home on Worsham Street in Montgomery, Texas – only 18 miles from Richards. We drove many times to visit my family in the Fairview Cemetery outside of Richards and on one of those drives up Highway 105  I discovered the Texas beer joint of my childhood dreams in the little town of Dobbin. Some dreams really do come true!

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    We stopped for the burgers and bbq

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    Best burgers EVER

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    We waited in the bar which the owner Bobby Holder built himself – took him three years to finish – perfection

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    A little something for everyone

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    Thirst quencher

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    Old family pictures on ancient organ

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    Bobby as a little boy

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    All in all, Holder’s had delicious food, and had I been younger, I would have come back for the night life…or maybe not. My Texas beer joint dreams had come true without the first sip of a Lone Star.

    And finally, here’s a wall hanging at Holder’s that I thought of yesterday after the presidential debate on Monday night. I talked to my friend Carmen about the debate, and she said many of her friends weren’t going to vote this year…or were undecided…

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    And there you have it.