I'll Call It Like I See It

by sheila morris

Category: Personal

  • 2022: the Year in Review (well, so far)

    2022: the Year in Review (well, so far)


    Let’s rap.

    Two thousand twenty-two, I’m worried now ’bout you.

    You’re two-thirds done and not too fun.

    so where the heck have you gone?

    (rhythm band in background doing their best to find one)

    A new war in Ukraine with Russia to blame.

    Killing children at will with no sense of shame.

    bombing nuclear plants without any aim.

    (rhythm band in background stops and says in unison Seriously?

    bombing nuclear plants?)

    Two thousand twenty-two, I’m worried now ’bout you.

    You’re burning, you’re flooding, we shy away from the sights

    you’ve allowed the Supremes to take away rights.

    (rhythm band in background shakes their heads and wags fingers)

    Two thousand twenty-two, I’m really worried now

    our minds are blown by what we’ve found

    An ex-pres has taken secrets you shouldn’t have allowed.

    (rhythm band in background shake tambourines furiously)

    Two thousand twenty-two, number of months remaining four.

    we’re sick and tired of Covid and of you we implore

    give us a break from chills and fevers and muscles that are sore.

    (rhythm band in background nod approvingly, clapping hands)

    And if you don’t mind, here’s the last ax to grind.

    Two thousand twenty-two, you’re moving way behind

    We’re watching, we’re rapping, to make sure you get in line.

    (rhythm band moves into foreground to take bow – why, Liz Cheney is leading the band)

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

    Yikes – I’m clearly not a rapper. Please stay tuned – I’ll do better.

  • Dimples, Butch, Buttercup, Sissy… Sissy?

    Dimples, Butch, Buttercup, Sissy… Sissy?


    Whenever someone asks me what I’m writing, I feel a fleeting twinge of guilty laziness for saying I continue to blog – no new book of essays, no great American novel, no legacy book for my granddaughters. This is me self publishing using the same platform I’ve had for thirteen years. Never reaching 2,000 followers but loving my local and international friends who faithfully hang with me. Averaging 150 hits per post in 2022, sometimes more in other years, sometimes fewer. Somewhere along the way I found a voice, but the Boomer passion for individual achievement in the realm of literature that produced six books is mixed now with the seasoned settling of comforting routines that continue to produce my cyberspace conversations. If I ever changed my mind about publishing a new collection of my flash nonfiction, I promise the following post from the archives would be included.

    Pretty, the great Treasure Hunter, occasionally brings home items that fascinate. One such find  was two versions of a board game I played as a child growing up in rural Grimes County, Texas in the mid twentieth century. Before the television set took over as our main form of entertainment, my family played all kinds of games from dominoes to gin rummy to board games Santa Claus left for me under the tree at Christmas. One of our family favorite board games was Go to the Head of the Class which was supposedly “educational” as well as fun. With school teacher parents, I played tons of “educational” games.

    fifth series copyrighted in 1949 by Milton Bradley, publisher

    The game was originally played with tokens that were cardboard images of children attached to wooden bases. Each game had 8 tokens, and their pictures were on the book that contained the questions.

    (top row, l. to r.) Sissy, Dimples, Liz and Butch

    (bottom row, l. to r.) Sonny, Buttercup, Susie and Red

    Sissy

    I can’t find the edition when publisher Milton Bradley eliminated the unsmiling player named Sissy, but I can assure you it would have been the last token picked in my family. Buttercup would have run a close second to the last.

    Take a good look at Sissy, the little boy whose two obvious distinguishing features were that he wore glasses and parted his hair down the middle like the little girl tokens.

    I remembered Jim Blanton’s essay in Southern Perspectives on the Queer Movement: Committed to Home where he talked about growing up in Gaffney, South Carolina and being called “sissy” as a child and teenager by bullies in school. Words, labels that cause pain.

    I’m sure my parents were oblivious to the subtle cultural messages being sent to me in our educational games, but for me this game was one more nail in the coffin of internalized homophobia and intentional segregation in my childhood. Never any people of color as the tokens. No one wanted to be known as a “sissy,” and how could I explain to anyone why I always picked “Butch” first?

    This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is img_20220827_150432507_hdr.jpg

    not sure where this picture of me was taken or why – 

    did I already feel different?

    Be aware of bias and labels that hurt. Be kind to each other. Be safe this weekend.

    Stay tuned.

  • if you’re a lesbian on the back side of thirty, the short side of time – speak now or forever hold your regret

    if you’re a lesbian on the back side of thirty, the short side of time – speak now or forever hold your regret


    Greetings to all my friends in cyberspace,

    Forgive this commercial interruption intended for my lesbian sisters who I hope will stop for a moment, look at the B-E Collection website and then volunteer to speak out about our experiences not only in the workplace but also other topics of interest recorded in the collection.

    Dianne Barrett and her wife Margaret Elfering began the ambitious task of preserving the stories of lesbians who are over 30 years old with particular emphasis on their careers while widening the scope of topics to include couples in long term relationships/partnerships/marriages and most recently reaction to the overturn of Roe v Wade.

    My personal adventures are included on their website in two places: “The Interviews” (which I thought went well but bring popcorn) and “Your Vote is your Voice” (which channeled my disastrous Southern Baptist preacher upbringing). Yikes! You decide.

    I strongly encourage you to contact Dianne to schedule an interview! No one will ask you for a monetary contribution to anything, which is happy news in these mid-term election asks. Plus, you will have an awesome opportunity to tell your own story in a non threatening environment which can be powerful as well as liberating. And maybe even fun!

    Speak now, or forever hold your regret to pass on a chance to make your voice heard.

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

    Stay safe, stay sane and please stay tuned.

  • Pretty’s advice to her younger self

    Pretty’s advice to her younger self


    “If you could go back to that 34 year old attorney from Vermont beginning the first of 48 years as a United States Senator, would you have any advice for him?” asked Robert Costa during his CBS Sunday Morning interview with retiring Senator Patrick Leahy who at 82 years old is the fourth longest serving person in the Senate.

    Senator Leahy responded something about telling the young man nothing was impossible if you persevered, dream big, be your best self – you get the idea. Inspirational. Conventional wisdom from a seasoned New Englander who was the first of his family to graduate from college way back when.

    Of course Pretty and I were watching the interview together this morning – it’s a tradition she introduced to me when we first got together more than twenty years ago – at the same time she introduced me to Sex and the City (the TV show). CBS Sunday Morning at 9 o’clock – Sex and the City on Sunday nights.

    During the next commercial break I turned to Pretty and asked her if she had any advice for her 30 year old self. Without skipping a beat she replied:

    “Exercise more. Eat less. Save money.” I burst out laughing, shaking my head in disbelief.

    “I don’t know how you could have exercised any more, ” I said to her back as she walked toward the kitchen. “You’ve played tennis your entire adult life, you do manual labor in the antique empire every day we aren’t chasing after a toddler granddaughter who has the energy of a bunny battery – I’m saying you’ve definitely done your share of exercise through the years.”

    “Yeah, that’s right,” she said from the kitchen where she fixed a big bowl of grits and three pieces of Sunbeam King Thin enriched bread toast (with lots of butter) for her breakfast.

    “What about you?” she asked as she sat down with her food. “What would you say to your 30 year old self?”

    “Stay away from married women,” I answered. Pretty laughed and nodded.

    Thank goodness the commercial break was over before we got to saving money.

  • Carport Kitty is our Guard Cat

    Carport Kitty is our Guard Cat


    For her many fans who ask, Carport Kitty has survived the summer heat in South Carolina to mark her one year stay with us on our carport. She continues to stand with the people of Ukraine every day of her life – as do Pretty, three barking dogs and me.

    She is now our official Guard Cat – Beware: she does not suffer fools gladly.