I'll Call It Like I See It

by sheila morris

Category: Life

  • wintry mix, or snow as we call it in South Carolina

    wintry mix, or snow as we call it in South Carolina


    So you think you know snow? Ha. We are rolling in it in the sunny South. On January 22, 2022, I began this post with pictures of snow in our backyard.

    only one dog outside with me three years ago: Carl

    Carport Kitty reigned in the winter of 2022

    (she died in October of 2022 – she never had to face a cold winter again)

    Carport Kitty and Pretty have similar feelings about winter. Thankfully her heated pad keeps her toasty warm in the laundry room – Carport Kitty, not Pretty. Heh, heh.

    The sun also rises, the snowflakes melt, and Pretty will leave me to work in her antique empire while I watch the disgraceful television coverage of the 2022 Australian Open this afternoon. Bollocks.

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

    Fast forward exactly three years to January 22, 2025. Old man Spike walks with me in the fresh snow around the pool in our backyard.

    Carl still with us but prefers staying inside over his cold paws in the snow

    to each his own, right?

    The Australian Open is winding down to its inevitable close this weekend. We have three Americans in semi-finals this week, and not one of them is named Venus or Serena. Hm. Ben Shelton is in the semi-finals for men’s singles, Madison Keys is also in a singles semi-final, and Taylor Townsend plays doubles with K. Siniakova for the women’s doubles semi-final. Spoiler alert: at least one American will play in a final.

    Between snow and semis, my sleep pattern is wrecked. I barely know what day it is on this continent – much less in Australia.

    Vive la difference. Stay safe and warm. Please stay tuned. We enjoy your visits!

  • I’ve Been to the Mountaintop

    I’ve Been to the Mountaintop


    Fourteen years of publishing with more than a thousand posts, the possibility of duplicate themes looms large. One of my favorite topics is the holiday celebrating the life of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. – I’ve written twenty-three posts in which Dr. King was featured, and I feel a sense of responsibility toward preserving his legacy, especially on the day we set aside to honor him in my country. This post was originally published on September 23, 2014.

     South Carolina Pride was this past weekend in the state capitol of Columbia. I took 163 digital images over the weekend and posted my favorites on social media. I am a believer in the old adage “a picture is worth a thousand words,” and these pictures are images of hope, faith, love and joy – plus the occasional unsmiling prophecy pretenders. I love the pictures, but I can’t resist the thousand words, give or take a few.

    When I look at these images, I hear the voices of America singing.  I hear the cries of Paul Revere on his midnight ride and the loud sounds of argument, even heated debate as the Founding Fathers (yes, Virginia – there were no mothers present) drafted the Constitution of the United States with a Bill of Rights guaranteeing individual liberties.

    I hear the sounds of slaves who could not speak to their masters, and I hear the whispers of abolitionists who spirited those slaves away in the darkness. I hear the cries of the wounded, dying Confederate and Union soldiers as the artillery fired around them on the fields at Vicksburg and Gettysburg; I hear the cannon fired in Charleston Harbor at Fort Sumter.

    I hear the choruses of the suffragettes who held a convention in Seneca, New York, and marched because they dared to dream women had the right to vote –  which they hoped would lead to greater equality, but then I hear the roll call of states that  refused to ratify an Equal Rights Amendment which attempted to level the playing field for “the weaker sex” in the 1970s.

    I hear the singing of the marchers in Selma and Birmingham in the 1960s as they walked to overcome their harsh treatment.  I hear the voices of angry rappers today in Fullerton, Missouri, over the endless struggles for fair treatment in a country where equality is, too often, lip-synced.

    I hear the voices of the drag queens at Stonewall in 1969 as they refused to be treated inhumanely and stand firm against the oppression of the gay community. I hear the sounds of pleas by children who are thrown out of their homes and into the streets when their family confronts their sexuality. I hear the sounds of comfort and support from people who respond with love to these children in distress…

    I wish I had the gift of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. to describe my feelings as I rode on the Pioneers Float Saturday, but since I don’t, I’ll borrow his words from his last speech on April 3, 1968, in Memphis, Tennessee – the day before he was assassinated:

    “Well, I don’t know what will happen now.  We’ve got some difficult days ahead.  But it doesn’t matter with me now.  Because I’ve been to the mountaintop.  And I don’t mind.  Like any man I would like to live a long life.  Longevity has its place.  But I’m not concerned about that now…God’s allowed me to go up to the mountain.  And I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the promised land.  I may not get there with you.  But I want you to know today that we, as a people, will get to the promised land.  And I’m happy, today,  I’m not worried about anything.  I’m not fearing any man.”

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

    Dr. King carried me to the mountaintop with him more than once through his words, deeds, dreams, faith, hope and love – his unfailing commitment to peaceful change. Regardless of how I feel today on his special day in 2025, I know I’ve been to the mountaintop and seen the promised land. I hope you have, too. 

  • 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.

  • Waging Peace, Fighting Disease, Building Hope: the President from Plains

    Waging Peace, Fighting Disease, Building Hope: the President from Plains


    Following the shady corruption of power in the Nixon administration, the American people were ready for a newcomer outside the beltway of Washington, D. C. In walked Georgia Governor Jimmy Carter (1924 -2024), a peanut farmer from Plains who was a Sunday School teacher in a Baptist church, a man with a reputation for honesty and integrity. He was just the recipe needed in the 1976 election after the Watergate years.

    I had followed and admired Jimmy Carter even before his run for governor of Georgia in 1970 so I was hopeful for what his administration could accomplish from the White House. Alas, being an outsider in Washington must be much more difficult  than I thought; for Jimmy and Rosalyn Carter it was a mountain too high to climb. The many good measures he accomplished including the Camp David Accords were often lost in the rhetoric surrounding the hostages in Iran that were released on the day Ronald Reagan took office at the end of Carter’s one term.

    Jimmy Carter was only 56 years old when he left the Oval Office for his home in Plains, Georgia, in 1981. He remained a constant voice for the poor and disenfranchised from his post-presidency bully pulpit throughout his life. In 2002 Carter was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for his open resistance to the War in Iraq in addition to his countless contributions toward creating and preserving democracy around the world. The Carter Center in Atlanta has been a model for presidential libraries, a thriving institution whose motto is “Waging Peace, Fighting Disease, Building Hope.”

    During the last years President Carter not only wrote thirty books but also found a passion for painting. Pretty and I are always grateful for the Christmas cards we have received every year from Rosalyn and Jimmy Carter, and we are particularly happy whenever the cards are works of art by the former president.

    2023 Christmas card from the Carter Center was this self-portrait

    One of my favorite memories of President Carter took place in his hometown of Plains when Pretty and I were part of a tour group sponsored by the Carter Center in 2002. We were running late for our lunch with the group, had picked up our plates at the buffet, and had begun to select our food when I heard a voice behind me say, do you have plans to sit with anyone? I turned to see Jimmy Carter in line behind me and almost fainted. Rosalyn and I would like for you two to join us at our table. We sat down beside them, and I immediately became mute. Pretty, on the other hand, carried the day with her entertaining chatter with President and Mrs. Carter as we dined on fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, and delicious desserts. I think I was finally able to speak but made an inane remark that was unremarkable. Jimmy and Rosalyn sharing fried chicken with Pretty and me – they couldn’t have been more gracious, more engaged. I remember wondering how many dignitaries had eaten fried chicken with them at a White House state dinner.

    Rosalyn and Jimmy Carter working together on Carter Center project

    I find it difficult to say goodbye to former President James E. Carter, Jr. He has been a part of my political consciousness for the past fifty-five years – more than two-thirds of my life. He was an uncommon man, flawed like the rest of us, but someone who came from a tiny town in Georgia to tackle the world’s problems from his unique position in American life.

    Rest in the peace that passes all understanding, Mr. President. You earned it.