I'll Call It Like I See It

by sheila morris

Category: Reflections

  • Mama Mia, ABBA made me a Dancing Queen

    Mama Mia, ABBA made me a Dancing Queen


    Dancing Queen? Just kidding. Anyone who has seen me on a dance floor from the time my mother tried to teach me how to rock n roll with Dick Clark and American Bandstand after school in the living room of our home in Richards, Texas to dancing with Pretty and our granddaughters in their kitchen to Roe, Roe, Roe, your Vote – anyone who has seen me try to dance will say gosh, Sheila can still carry a tune plus she’s got rhythm but Lordy, that old woman can’t dance.

    I may not be a Dancing Queen, but ABBA will always be my favorite musical group, my go-to songs when I think I can dance.

    Last week I watched the movie Mama Mia with Meryl Streep and a bunch of other people I know and like because it’s on my list of all time favorite movies and because I had a round of the epizooti. It was so good I watched it twice and then moved on to The Devil Wears Prada. I only watched it once, though, you’ll be pleased to know.

    Since I was in a prone position with no urges to dance, I listened to the words of a beautiful, slower tempo song from Mama Mia that Meryl sang in a poignant scene with her daughter. Beyond the obvious feelings I have now with my granddaughters, I can also connect the words to my relationship with Pretty. Life is often slipping through our fingers all the time.

    “Slipping Through My Fingers”

    Schoolbag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning
    Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile
    I watch her go with a surge of that well known sadness
    And I have to sit down for a while
    The feeling that I’m losing her forever
    And without really entering her world
    I’m glad whenever I can share her laughter
    That funny little girl

    Slipping through my fingers all the time
    I try to capture every minute
    The feeling in it
    Slipping through my fingers all the time
    Do I really see what’s in her mind
    Each time I think I’m close to knowing
    She keeps on growing
    Slipping through my fingers all the time

    Sleep in our eyes, her and me at the breakfast table
    Barely awake I let precious time go by
    Then when she’s gone, there’s that odd melancholy feeling
    And a sense of guilt I can’t deny
    What happened to the wonderful adventures
    The places I had planned for us to go
    Well, some of that we did, but most we didn’t
    And why, I just don’t know

    Slipping through my fingers all the time
    I try to capture every minute
    The feeling in it
    Slipping through my fingers all the time
    Do I really see what’s in her mind
    Each time I think I’m close to knowing
    She keeps on growing
    Slipping through my fingers all the time

    Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture
    And save it from the funny tricks of time

    Slipping through my fingers…

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

    Overheard in her playhouse from two-year-old Molly this weekend: “Naynay, I’ll never leave you.”

  • Time to do More in 2024 – Plan your Votes!

    Time to do More in 2024 – Plan your Votes!


    June 11th day of decision for South Carolina voters in Primaries

    YOUR VOTE COUNTS

    YOUR VOICE MATTERS

    don’t sit this one out!

    our house stands with Democratic candidate Francie Kleckley

    if you’re not in SC District 10, please DONATE to support her campaign

    http://www.franciekleckley.com

  • guaranteed good times

    guaranteed good times


    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

    Danger, stay away from possibly poisonous salamanders!

    two-year-old Molly very happy at lake with or

    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.

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

    P.S. Thanks to Nicole for top two images.

  • two presidential debates scheduled for 2024: remember the first debate in 2016?

    two presidential debates scheduled for 2024: remember the first debate in 2016?


    The first presidential debate between Hilary Clinton and Donald Trump in the 2016 election took place on September 26, 2016. I tuned in, of course, and posted this piece the following day.

    The 400-Pound Hacker in the Room

    Donald Trump on our national security in the debate tonight:

    “Hackers could be anybody sitting on their beds weighing 400 pounds.”

    Whaaaaaaat? What did you say? What does that even mean?

    Donald Trump on foreign affairs:

    “I haven’t given lots of thought to NATO…I just know we have to knock the hell out of ISIS.”

    Really? Not much thought to the North Atlantic Treaty Organization? You might want to add that to your debate prep topics for next time.

    Donald Trump on the war in Iraq:

    “I was against the war in Iraq…all you have to do is call Sean Hannity and ask him. He knows I was against the war in Iraq.”

    Somebody please call Sean Hannity… and restore a little sanity.

    Donald Trump on deal-making in the Obama administration:

    “You almost can’t name a good deal they’ve made.”

    I can name that deal in three notes…or was that tune…deal, tune…whatever.

    Donald Trump on what it takes to be President:

    “To be President of the United States, you have to have the stamina.”

    It also helps to have an understanding of the job description.

    Hillary Clinton on preparation:

    “Yes, I prepared for this debate. I’ve also prepared to be President.”

    And with that I say to all good night and good luck.

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

    Never underestimate the importance of the presidential debates. Somewhere today a 400-pound hacker sits on his bed laughing uproariously.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • different war, different century – same Mother’s Day yearnings

    different war, different century – same Mother’s Day yearnings


    Pretty’s family isn’t big on specific dates so we celebrated Mother’s Day Wednesday with our family. Does the day really matter as long as someone celebrates, remembers, keeps a tradition of a mother’s love going…eleven years ago I published this post about a young American soldier in France in the 20th. century during WWI who tried to comfort his mother on Mother’s Day from a place that existed only in her imagination.

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

    The handwriting on the letters has almost faded away, the yellowed paper and envelopes  so torn and fragile I’m afraid to open them for fear they’ll disintegrate. The dates of the letters are in May of 1918, which I calculate to be 95 years ago this month. They are three letters written by a young Marine serving “somewhere” in France in World War I to his mother who evidently thought they were worthy of saving. Pretty discovered the letters  when she was on one of her fishing expeditions for treasures in old houses.  Occasionally on her adventures at yard sales or estate sales she finds words for me to read – words that someone saved for a reason. No longer wanted by family, they’re sometimes stuck inside the pages of books she buys or in a little box or even in a scrapbook tossed aside as unimportant. I don’t think the names are necessary but I will say the mother lived in Indiana. I’m glad she thought her son’s words were worthy of saving. I believe they’re worthy of being read again.

     Somewhere in France,  May 12, 1918

    Dearest Mother,

    Today is “Mother’s Day” – your day – and I wish I were home to spend the day with you.  Altho I cannot send you a big box of flowers I will endeavor to send a little flower that grows near me on a green hillside.

    I hope you are well and happy today.  Of course I realize how you feel about me being over here, the two battles you have to fight, that is, keeping up a brave front and smile when I know you feel bad about me.  Mother dear, I really am safe and the best news I get from home is that you are well and enjoying life. I would rather hear that you enjoyed a good show, say once a week, than to hear that you had denied yourself one little thing to help the Cause along. I sort of figure that you have done your bit, so please try to have a good time and remember that I don’t fare so bad.  It isn’t nearly so bad here as you all imagine.

    We eat, sleep, read magazines, letters and roam around to see everything going on. We aren’t getting any furloughs at present. I mean my outfit, but maybe it won’t be long until we can go touring again. I’ll have many stories to tell you when I get back, and I’ll trade stories for some good pies & cakes – and any eats at all that you cook. We move so much that I thought I’d have to throw away some pictures, but I’ve found a way. We always find a way. It seems a necessary part of a Marine to get along most any old place and get along well.

    I sent a list home of some things I want – and you may add on to that list a few pounds of homemade candy, preferably fudge. I don’t care how old fudge gets, it is always the best tasting eats we ever get from back there. I can buy French candy & chocolate at the Y.M.C. A. huts, so you see that we really don’t suffer for those things, but nevertheless some good old homemade candy is the stuff.

    I write you once a week, when possible, as an answer to Dad, Sis & your letters so they must not feel slighted, but this is your letter, and nearly every mother who has a son in France will get one too. Spring is coming in very beautiful, but the rain is so frequent here.  After a big rain the sun pops out with a blue sky and green hills – then everybody is happy.

    I tried to subscribe for one of the 3rd Liberty Loan Bonds but they aren’t selling them here.  I would like to have one of each issue. I have no kick coming about getting mail now as it is coming pretty regularly.  I’d appreciate some of those fried chickens you spoke about but I think I’ll wait until I come home.

    Well Mother dear, next Mother’s Day we will celebrate properly and have a good time.

    Love to Dad & Sis, and you…

    Your loving son, Buddie

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

    Not all sons and daughters become soldiers who are stationed in foreign countries on a different continent on Mother’s Day, but the yearnings for connection to home and family are universal regardless of time or place, seen or unseen.