I'll Call It Like I See It

by sheila morris

Category: Personal

  • Post Cards From The Heart – Mr. Roosevelt Wasn’t Home


           Friday, Sep.27 – 1907   Viewed city from Monument

    Bessie and Luke left the Jamestown Exposition and continued their honeymoon with a visit to Washinton, D.C.   The Washington Monument was a must stop for them as they got their bearings inside the city and planned their stay.   Where to go first?   So much to see and do in the nation’s capitol and only three days for sightseeing!   The answer is the same as it is for many of us who travel to D.C. a century later, whether honeymooning or not.   The White House.   The iconic symbol of America’s pride in itself.

    Visited Fri Sep 27 – 1907.  The home of Teddie – he was not there.

    Theodore “Teddy” Roosevelt was the 26th President of the United States and held that office from 1901 – 1909.   He was famous for his Rough Riders in the Spanish American War of 1898 but in 1906 received the Nobel Peace Prize for helping to negotiaite the Russo-Japanese Treaty.   War and Peace.  Two of the thorniest obsessions of American Presidents, and Teddy Roosevelt was no exception.   So in 1907 when our friends Luke and Bessie came to call,  he would have been the inhabitant of The White House as they stood in line to get their tickets for a tour of his home.  Alas, as she wrote jokingly on her post card, Teddy was not there. Bessie was so excited to go through the historical residence she bought a post card for each change of rooms and wrote the time for every half hour of the tour.

    Blue Room, White House, Washington, D. C.

    Ten a.m. Sept 27th  1907. L and B

    State Dining Room

    10:30 a.m. Sept 27th 1907

    Luke, Bessie

    Red Room

    Eleven a.m. Sept 27th 1907

    Executive Mansion, East Room

    Eleven thirty a.m., Sept 27th 1907

    East Room

    12 p.m. Sept 27th 1907

    The tour lasted two hours and was unforgettable for the young couple who were completely taken in by the guide’s descriptions and stories that came with the house.   If these walls could talk.

    The day was half over and Luke suggested they walk past a couple of other buildings he wanted to see on the way back to their hotel for a late lunch and afternoon delight.   It was a honeymoon, after all.

    State War and Navy Departments, Washington, D.C. 

    Fri Sept. 27, 1907

    Agricultural Building 

    Fri Sept 27 1907

    Naturally he wanted to see the military and agriculture  buildings on the very first day of their visit, and Bessie went along with him.  She purchased the post cards for their memory book which she faithfully kept as a reminder of each day’s adventures.   It was a world without digital cameras, a world without cameras unless you were a professional photographer, so the post cards were Bessie’s attempt to preserve their reminiscences.

    Let’s leave our Alabama couple to themselves on this Friday night in the Big City and wish them well until we meet them in the morning.

  • Post Cards From The Heart – Greetings From Jamestown


    The leather post card on the front of the tattered photo album should have been a clue indicating the significance of the Jamestown Exposition in the life of Bessie and Luke, but it took me several days of pouring through the photos to figure it out.   Duh.

    The Jamestown Exposition was held from April 26 to December 1, 1907 at Sewell’s Point in Norfolk, Virginia.   It was one of many expositions popular at the turn of the twentieth century and was a celebration of the 300-year anniversary of the initial landing in Virginia by the English colonists.   Unfortunately, it was a financial disaster for its supporters and a cultural disappointment tainted with racial conflicts.   Attendance eventually reached 3 million visitors and included President Theodore Roosevelt and Mark Twain who came as a replacement for former President Grover Cleveland as a guest of honor on Robert Fulton Day.   President Roosevelt spoke on Georgia Day, June 10, 1907, on the steps of the Georgia Building.   Although Bessie purchased a post card marking that historic event at the Exposition, she didn’t arrive until three months later.

    In spite of the negative press and rumors surrounding the Jamestown Exposition, Luke and Bessie chose it for the first stop of their honeymoon trip.   The wedding date remains a mystery, but this trip is certainly the honeymoon.  More than 100 post cards in her album describe the trip of her lifetime.   Luke and Bessie, she wrote on almost every one of the cards that she used to carefully preserve her memories of the adventure.   September 26, 1907…the first day.

    The displays of two squadrons of ships remained one of the most popular sites throughout the Exposition and Bessie bought several post cards of the remarkable water exhibits to remind her of the sight.  The displays influenced a number of important visitors from Washington, D.C., too, and probably led to the formation of a naval base in Norfolk ten years after the close of the Exposition.

    The Main Auditorium was a must-see, of course.   Sept. 26 – eve – 1907     Luke, Bess

    A choice which surely was Luke’s was the Mines and Metallurgy Building.   Since he worked for Atlanta Steel,  he would want to visit this exhibit and Bessie bought a card for him.

    Sept 26. P.M. – 1907   Luke, Bessie

    A totally unexpected surprise of the trip was the chance meeting of a young man from Canton, New York.   No mention is made of how the meeting took place.  Perhaps they met at a concession stand having lunch?  Regardless, we learn much about him from his post cards.   His name was Wm. J. Heckles and he would maintain a friendship through their post card correspondence for many years with the newlyweds from the South.   His first post card was sent a month after their encounter at the Exposition.

    My dear Mr & Mrs Moore, I have at last reached home tired out but well pleased with my trip…Hope you had a fine trip home and reached there all right.  I only stayed one day at Jamestown and stayed the rest of the time in Philadelphia and New York.  Hoping to hear from you I remain in F.L. & T.      Wm. J. Heckles, Canton, N.Y.    What’s this?  Texting on post cards a hundred years ago?  Every one of his post cards through the years closed with F.L. & T.     LOL.  I have no idea what he meant.

    Another post card was sent while the Moores honeymooned.  Bessie wouldn’t receive it until she got home, but it came from China, Texas.

    I think you should write me, F    Clearly, Florence from our last post was feeling left out.

    The Jamestown leg of the trip lasted two days and Bessie saved this post card to mark her last day there.

    1907 on night of 27. Leaving Jamestown for Washington

    Bessie and Luke continue their journey to Washington, and we’ll meet them there next time.

  • Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh


    GOLD, FRANKINCENSE AND MYRRH

    A CHRISTMAS STORY FOR THE 21ST CENTURY

                And it came to pass in these days that there went out a decree from the personal laptop computers and hand-held computers and iPads and iPods and high-definition televisions and Sirius radio satellite stations that all the world should be buying gifts for Christmas in 4G.   And all went to buy gifts, every one into his/her favorite retailer, or online.

    There was an old woman who lived in the world

    and her eyes saw and her ears heard the decree,

    but her heart refused to buy 4G.

    For, you see, too many Christmases had come and gone

    And the old woman’s heart had turned to stone.

    The gifts she wanted couldn’t be wrapped.

    They were buried in memories too deeply trapped.

    But, behold, the old woman was visited by wise women this year,

    And they came bearing gifts of good cheer.

    Gold, frankincense and myrrh from days of old?   Not quite.

    But the women followed the same bright light.

    I’m a basic Bah, Humbug Christmas person and have been for years.   I’m not clinically depressed during the Holiday Season, but neither am I joyful.  I resist the pressure to shop ‘til I drop, but that isn’t limited to a particular time of the year, either.  I’m considering the possibility I may suffer from borderline Scrooge disorder or at a minimum, Holiday Harrumphs.

    This year is different.   I’ve been jolted and shaken out of my cynicism and once again believe in the Magic that is Christmas.   I think my transformation actually began last year when my new neighbors in Texas on Worsham Street decorated their homes and yards with spectacular exterior holiday lighting.   They adorned trees, bushes, windows, doors, porches, benches, roofs – anything they could find to attach a string of lights – and the little street came alive with white icicle lights and plain white lights and multi-colored lights of all shapes and sizes that glowed and blinked and gave the appearance of a miniature Disneyland.  I absolutely loved them and of course, I had to participate with my own lights on our house on the street.  I felt my Christmas ice melt just a little each time I turned the switch that lit my bright lights.  This year the street is again beautiful, and I thank my neighbors for the inspiration of their lighting traditions.

    I miss my family at Christmas, the family that defined Christmas for me as a child.  That family is gone as that time and place are gone, but the child inside me mourns their loss every time I hear “Silent Night” and other carols sung during this time of the year.  We were musical people and much of our holiday revolved around music in our churches where my mother was always responsible for the Christmas Cantata.  Sometimes she played the piano for it so my dad could lead the church choir and sometimes she drafted another pianist so she could lead the choir herself.  Regardless, music was the reason for the season for us and we celebrated the season in church.

    Family has been re-defined in my adult life by my partner and four children in furry suits that I adore.  I have a step-son who now has a girlfriend he lives with and so our family grows together.  Through the past forty years I’ve been away from Texas I’ve been fortunate to have wonderful friends who have become closer than the DNA-linked group I left behind.  In my gay and lesbian community in South Carolina, the term “family” is a word we use to describe ourselves.  The question, “Do you think she’s family?” is translated, “Do you think she’s a lesbian like us?”  Being part of a marginalized sub-culture creates strong bonds within that environment and my friends have been simply the best.

    Coming home to Texas to live has connected me once again with my DNA family and that’s been an incredible experience and part of the Magic of Christmas for me the last two years. First cousins, second cousins, third cousins once removed and the people they’ve married and their children are good, and a few questionable, surprises for me.  Gathering for a cousins’ Christmas potluck luncheon or going with cousins to the Montgomery Annual Cookie Walk or having cousins come to our home or visiting in their homes rekindle good memories of the times when our hair wasn’t white and our figures were slimmer and the great-grandparents at the table weren’t us. I see these relatives and I am a part of them, and I feel good to belong to them at Christmas. Our conversations honor and celebrate our heritage and the ones who are no longer with us.  We laugh and cry together because we are moved by our memories. My family is a Christmas gift.

    But just as the familiar story goes of the Wise Men who followed a bright light to Bethlehem and brought gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh to the baby boy in the manger, Wise Women in my life have brought gifts that rocked my Christmas complacency. My partner surprised me with an early gift at Thanksgiving when I went home to her in South Carolina.  It’s worth its weight in gold to me.  It’s a western saddle made of leather and rides a wooden quilt holder that a neighbor gave me when she saw the saddle.  It’s a perfect combination and looks good in my Texas den underneath a picture of a cowboy sitting on a fence.  Whenever I look at the saddle, I think of two of my favorite things: my partner who knew me well enough to buy this treasure for me and my days of riding horses as a child. I feel the love of the giver of this perfect gift.

    Frankincense was used in ancient times for medicinal and calming purposes including treatment for depression.  Burning frankincense was also thought to carry prayers to heaven by people in those days.  One of the Wise Women in my life gave me my own version of frankincense last week when she bought a plane ticket to South Carolina for me to be with my partner for Christmas.  I marvel at this generosity from a friend who surely loves me and who chased away the potential Christmas blues. This gift came from prayers to heaven that were unasked but answered on the wings of a snow white dove called US Airways and the spirit that is the Magic of Christmas in the heart of my friend.

    Myrrh is an Arabic word for bitter and it is the resin that comes from a tree that grows in the semi-desert regions of Africa and the Red Sea.  The Chinese used it for centuries to treat wounds and bruises and bleeding.  The Egyptians used myrrh as an embalming oil for their mummies.  Yesterday I received another gift that reminded me of myrrh – not the bitterness nor the embalming properties – but the unexpected present was a live blooming cactus plant that arrived at my house via a congenial UPS driver who I believe thinks he is Santa Claus.  When I opened the box and removed the moss packing per the enclosed instructions, I was stunned by the beauty of the pink blooms and the deep rich green of the plant.  The gift came from another Wise Woman who is married to my cousin in Rosenberg, Texas and was an additional reminder of the Magic that lives in Christmas.  Every day I’ll see these blooms and think of my cousins who sent them and the healing power beauty affords us when we take a moment to consider it.  I’ve always loved a Christmas cactus.

    Gold, frankincense and myrrh with a 21st century twist.  The Christmas story of Mary and Joseph’s plight in the manger in Bethlehem has been told and re-told for thousands of years.  Regardless of your belief, it is a tender tale of a family who welcomes a baby boy into a world of conflict and hardship and hopes he will somehow change it for the better.   The same conflicts continue two thousand years later and hardships of every shape and description plague our families today, but we move on.  Sometimes forward, sometimes backward.  But onward we go.  And in this spirit of hope for a better world where peace becomes the norm and hardships are made more bearable, I abandon my Bah, Humbug  with a Merry Christmas to all!

  • Body Ink – Revisiting the Obama Presidency


    THE TATTOO

          I  got a tattoo two years ago in November, 2009.     I think it’s beautiful. It’s an elaborate cursive “T” in the standard bluish-green tattoo ink used by first-time tattoo getters. It originally stood for Teresa, my life partner of the past ten years.

    Now, I notice all tattoos with greater interest and find a wealth of visible body art on display. Most of what I see is far more creative and in much brighter colors than my three-inch alphabet letter on the inside of my left wrist. However, other people’s ink creations don’t put a damper on my enthusiasm for my own ink.

    The young man who performed the artistry tried to hide his surprise when I walked into his business and announced I wanted a tattoo. I told him I mulled it over for fifty years and thought that was an adequate amount of time to consider anything you truly wanted to do. He was very kind during the painful process, and I was grateful for the xanax I took as a precautionary measure.

    Thanks to my friend Robert for mentioning the tattoo tip to Teresa who went with me and congratulated me for my somewhat mellowed bravery. She couldn’t watch and said she had no interest in getting one to match mine. I was fine with that, but I’m glad I have this outward symbolic marking. I don’t intend to make another statement with ink and needles any time soon. Whatever possessed me to get a tattoo after dreaming of getting one for so many years?

    The  year 2009 began with no dramatic foreshadowing to indicate the earth was about to rotate on a different axis.  A new President took office in January in these Estados Unidos, and his campaign message of hope revitalized a people whose lives lacked faith in their leaders and themselves.  The air we breathed was filled with a sense of expectancy, lofty idealism, and expanded news coverage on an hourly basis of our First Family’s settling in at the White House.

    I, like slightly more than half of the voting population, beamed with pride in the goodwill we received from other countries around the world that shared our optimism for a new direction of peace and prosperity beaming from a fresh colorful face so clearly symbolic of our national melting pot.  Peace, prosperity. As opposed to wars and recession with their inherent problems of joblessness and free-floating anxiety. A new day dawned, and I basked in the warm glow of loosening the shackles of despair that caused me to cringe in horror for the past eight years of the prior regime.  The Bushes were gone—long live the Obamas.

    Unfortunately, the financial markets didn’t share my optimism and took a precipitous nose dive, reaching their lowest point since 1997 in March of 2009. In October of that year, unemployment rates surged to their highest levels since 1982, and in the same month, the Norwegian Nobel Committee announced its decision to award the Nobel Peace Prize to President Barack Obama for his “extraordinary efforts to strengthen international diplomacy and cooperation between peoples.”  While many viewed this as premature praise for an unworthy recipient, I smiled and said nothing.  The Bushes were gone—long live the Obamas.

    The stock market rebounded, and financial services firms prepared their typical gazillion-dollar bonuses for the end of the year as many Americans coped with everyday problems of finding food, shelter, clothing, and health care for their families. Oops—did I mention health care? Our fearless leaders shouldered the burden of developing comprehensive reform of the healthcare system, which is the priciest in the world and offers so little for so much to so few.  I prescribe spending an afternoon in a hospital emergency waiting area and observing the uninsured first-hand.

    Finally, after much ballyhoo in the halls of Congress and an embarrassment of ignorance displayed daily on national news, a reform bill passed and was signed into law by the President.  We needed a real fix, and I’m not talking about illegal drugs, but we acquiesced for a generic version to accommodate the opposition in the halls of Congress…

    It is now the summer of 2011 and I still hope for peace and prosperity, although I confess I find little difference in the Obamas. The symbolism of his presidency and potential for delivering on his message of hope appear to be lost in endless press conferences that lack substance. I fear his leadership abilities are suspect. Perhaps, though,  the system is beyond Thunder Dome today and too corrupt for any leaders to make substantive change. Our people continue two wars in places I will never know, and each Sunday I see the names of American soldiers who died on foreign soil during the previous week.

    I long for peace and offer this prayer to the Great Spirit who weeps for us. May the Nobel Peace President discover the courage within himself to stand and deliver on our hope for a world without senseless destruction of men and women and children in every corner of the earth.  May all those people in the unemployment lines find work so that they can provide for themselves and their families.  May we become a nation that cares for our own and welcomes all people who sacrifice as they choose to discover our American dream, regardless of the disappointments they encounter.  May we have the courage to let go and move on in our lives when they spin out of control.  May we somehow set the world on a better axis.

    My tattoo reminds me of what is important in my life.  Teresa brings fun and passion to the adventure of everyday living. She is the salsa for my meat and potatoes, and I adore her. The “T” now represents more than a name for me—it’s a permanent reminder of Thanksgiving for a full life.  Who knows?  I may even get another one this year.