I'll Call It Like I See It

by sheila morris

Category: Reflections

  • 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.

  • some goodbyes are more painful than others

    some goodbyes are more painful than others


    From 1977 to 1991, the North Carolina Tar Heels aired on WBT AM which was a 50,000-watts radio station in Charlotte, North Carolina. Charlotte was 90 miles north of Columbia, South Carolina so reception for the Tar Heels basketball and football games was scratchy in the best of times. In 1982 the Tar Heels won their second of six NCAA men’s basketball championships, and somewhere around that time two men who were introduced at lunch by a mutual friend because he knew they shared a common interest in all things Tar Heels – these two men in their thirties decided they would drive to the outer edges of the army base at Fort Jackson which was ten miles outside of Columbia to get better reception to sit in their car and listen to whatever games North Carolina had on the air.

    Their passion for the Tar Heels resulted in a friendship between Dick Hubbard and Fred Roper that lasted for the next four decades, past the little WBT radio station broadcasts to the luxury of Big Screen TVs that went from black-and-white to color on ESPN and Fox networks to streaming whenever and wherever they wanted to watch. Together. Occasionally an outsider was invited to share the fun, but mostly it was Dick and Fred.

    All good times come to an end, and last week Dick called me to say he had lost his best male friend. Fred had been ill for a number of years, and his husband Jon had found him unresponsive at home that morning. The EMS responders were unable to resuscitate him.

    We live in an age where friendships are often seasonal, random, difficult to maintain. People change, move on, move away, lose interest, stop working on friendships; but in a world where platonic friendships may not be celebrated with the same fanfare we offer our married friends’ anniversaries, I’d like to say congratulations to Dick for being a loyal, devoted friend to Fred in sickness and in health.

    Rest in peace, Fred. You will be missed by many of us, and your Tar Heels owe you another title. Maybe next year, but it won’t be the same without you.

    ;

  • Hey, Girl, Hey!

    Hey, Girl, Hey!


    Some birthdays the hits just keep on rolling. Although my actual birthday was the 21st., two nights later another Memory Maker at El Jimador in Cayce. Pretty and I met some of our Gamecock Women’s basketball buddies JD, Garner, Brian, Joan and Robert for a dinner at a – wait for it – Mexican restaurant to continue celebrating the euphoria of our third National Championship, and talking up the chances of repeating in 2025 when the Final Four returns to Tampa Bay where Pretty and I attended our first Final Four with the Gamecocks in 2015 when, alas, there was no victory to celebrate.

    Garner and JD found this birthday card that reminded them of my greeting whenever I see them at the games: Hey, girls, hey!

    But they also brought me a bottle of my favorite liquor for shots before the games, or really for any occasion. Silver Patro’n Tequila. (Excuse the accent mark error.) Hopefully, you already know the tequila I’m talking about. JD included a container of his famous homemade blue cheese dressing that I could almost drink by itself with or without a shot. Thankfully, I have a bag of Fritos I can dip into it for a tasty lunch today. Yummy.

    Brian and Robert treated me to my favorite dinner of two cheese enchiladas with delicious rice and beans as a reward not only for a birthday but also for my win with Pretty for the most repeat viewings of the 2024 championship victory over Iowa in the past two weeks. Our number was 5, but Garner and JD weren’t far behind with 3. If anyone can top 5, please let me know. Coaches and players can’t participate in the contest!

    In June of 1967 I was already a sports fan even as I contemplated my graduation in two months from the University of Texas at Austin. This random picture recently came out of the blue to me from another UT friend who lives in Wyoming now. She and I were visiting my grandparents in Richards, Texas. Their house is in the background of this picture of me with my parents’ bird dog puppy Seth. The house no longer is there – it burned to the ground many years ago. I recognize the Texas sweatshirt – they came in all colors, and I had bought this blue one since I already had several orange ones. Check out the vanilla jeans, a wardrobe necessity for me.

    That twenty-one-year-old young woman could never have imagined the twists and turns her life would take in the next fifty-seven years, but she would always remember her family on every birthday, holiday, and days in between because she still felt their love from deep in her heart.

    Maybe she should write a book about that time, the place and her people. Oh, that’s right. She did. Deep in the Heart: A Memoir of Love and Longing.

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

    Stay tuned for next post: Meeting a Shero!