Pretty celebrates the 4th of July in our pool with granddaughters Ella and Molly, their first cousin Caleb who shares a large blue noodle with special friend Mary Carter while Caleb’s daddy Seth throws a tennis ball to them. Summer pool regulars Saskia and her son Finn shown in the background keep a close eye on four-year-old Ella making the turn from the deep water toward the steps where the action is.
The smile on Pretty a/k/a Nana’s face equals the joy on Ella’s face whether it is the 4th of July or any other day the two of them are able to find water for a swim. Number One Son Drew, the father of our granddaughters, laughed from his lounge chair in the sun where he is the happiest and said, I sure am glad the water craze skipped a generation.
Daughter-in-law Caroline made my day with homemade peach ice cream that was the most delicious EVER; her twin sister Chloe made equally yummy fresh peach cobbler which luckily had leftovers that were “left over” in our refrigerator for tomorrow’s breakfast.
Life is good for us on this 4th of July – my hope is that wherever you are this holiday weekend, you take a moment to reflect upon the sacrifices made by those who went before us to assert our right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness whether it’s in a swimming pool or watching Wimbledon on ESPN+ from the comfort of a favorite recliner.
Personal milestones are typically meaningless to others; but as I approach number 1,000 of these I’ll Call It Like I See It posts over the past fourteen years I decided to visit the archives with the objective of identifying some of my favorites. This one was originally published in Septemer, 2016. Return with me to those thrilling days of yesteryear. Uh, oh. The Undecided are probably still 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, worshipped 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!
We stopped for the burgers and bbq
Best burgers EVER
We waited in the bar which the owner Bobby Holder built himself – took him three years to finish – perfection
A little something for everyone
Thirst quencher
Old family pictures on ancient organ
Bobby as a little boy
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…
Dear Luke, I miss you so much and am doing all the chores while you are away. Please come home soon. I love you always, your wife Bessie P.S. It’s okay by me if you vote.
***********************
This is an actual postcard from the early 1900s that I originally published in March, 2017, following an election year in 2016. I am reviewing the 991 posts I’ve made since I began this blog in 2011 and saw this was a favorite among my readers. It’s also one of my favorites – plus it is an election year for us in the USA.
This coaster has been on my office desk for as long as I can remember – the office has been in five different homes over the past twenty-three years, but the coaster lingers on. Clearly worse for the wear, and not nearly as clever as Marla Wood’s images, but I remember how “Big” Dear Abbey was back in the day and still get a chuckle whenever I take time to digest the sentiment.
Totally unrelated to Pride
– except the pride Pretty and I have for our granddaughters four-year-old Ella and two-year-old Molly. We were at their house this past week, and the girls love to pretend to be Princesses in their dresses so their dog Sadie stands guard while Ella directs the play. The role of the Prince is often assigned to yours truly; Ella continues to believe I was born for the part. Bless her heart.
This card was sent to us at Christmas years ago by our friends Cindy and Sandy who immigrated to Tennessee and became Lady Volunteer basketball fans during the Summit era. Pretty had saved it somewhere in the deep recesses of her treasures and recently retrieved it. I had to laugh again.
another Christmas card from our past – this is pure Pride
Happy Father’s Day to all proud dads everywhere!! Hope your weekend is festive and filled with pride in your children, their children, and all children to come.
Thanks to Pretty for establishing our annual Memorial Day weekend tradition and to our favorite daughter-in-law Caroline for collaborating with Pretty on invites, venues, food, fun, festivities every year when we pack our bags for a vacation in the upstate of South Carolina in the Blue Ridge Province of the Southern Appalachian mountain range. Guaranteed good times, but never forget there is a Chief Worrier in the group, and that would be me.
This year we had two major worries: the oven from hell in the kitchen of our Airbnb that refused to turn off Saturday afternoon when I placed Pretty’s vegetarian lasagna on the top rack of its preheated 350 degrees to cook for 25 minutes. To my horror the oven door refused to open at the end of 25 minutes or for the next twelve hours, the oven continued to bake throughout that time, and my Chief Worrier self kicked into high gear by suggesting we call 911 for the Fire Department at nine o’clock Saturday night – wherever the Fire Department might be for Hogback Mountain. Thank goodness for our calm son Drew who staged an intervention, urged me not to panic, talked me off the ledge on Saturday night, assured me the door handle was cooling, until the oven door finally opened Sunday morning. Repeat: Sunday morning.
Sofia (left) and Molly waiting for breakfast while Ella and I raid refrigerator
three-year-old Sofia brought her big sis Lily plus her parents Bryan and Nicole for the weekend
(they were all a great addition to the mix)
Sofia, Ella and Molly play on the beach at the nearby lake
how do you say salamander?and what are they anyway?
an unresolved mystery until Papa Williams (Pretty’s father) called to say
without salamanders, but her favorite new saying was
Go Away!
Go away, Neena and Naynay – but when we got up to leave, Molly would get up, too,
and say, I go with you!
The window seat in the living area of the Airbnb was a favorite spot for the girls.
she thinks she’s the only one who can have a Unicorn
that Unicorn belongs to me and only me, says four-year-old Ella
oh, man – make her give me back my Unicorn – I’ll trade for sunglasses
ok, let’s trade
just kidding – I’ll keep the sunglasses and the Unicorn
Remember I said two worries? The second one came when we were leaving Monday morning in the midst of a very strong storm on the mountain. Winds actually blowing ferociously, rain pouring on us as we carried our girls and belongings to the cars. I knew my Chief Worrier needed to be summoned when normally calm Drew shouted, Be quick – we have to get out of here – there’s a tree down on the road! Our little caravan of three vehicles left the house in a hurry on the small gravel road we had to use to come down the mountain. Not far from the house a power line was down across the road which meant we had to turn around and take a different direction. Whew. My nerves were a wreck by the time we reached Landrum where we met Papa Williams for lunch.
Guaranteed good times, you bet! High drama an unexpected twist in 2024! I wouldn’t trade sunglasses or anything else for the time with family and friends this year. I’m grateful to the service members who made the ultimate sacrifice for us to live in a free country where we can celebrate their memories in special ways on Memorial Day.
God bless the United States of America, and God bless our troops.
I'll Call It Like I See It 
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