I'll Call It Like I See It

by sheila morris

Category: Reflections

  • The Charleston Massacre: Ten Years Anniversary

    The Charleston Massacre: Ten Years Anniversary


    Ten years ago today the mass murder of nine individuals gathered in their church for a bible study and prayer meeting struck closer to our home than prior atrocities. A twenty-one-year-old young man from Columbia, South Carolina, where Pretty and I live, drove 115 miles to Charleston, South Carolina, attended the prayer meeting in the Mother Emanuel AME Church, and proceeded to slay nine people who meant no harm to him. Lest we forget I’m reminding myself and you with my original post on June 17, 2015.

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

    The Sandy Hook Elementary School, Newtown, Connecticut. An army training center in Fort Hood, Texas.  The Washington, DC Navy Yard. A movie theater in Aurora, Colorado.  The Sikh Temple in Oak Creek, Wisconsin. Tucson, Arizona, and the resilience of Rep. Gabby Giffords. An immigration center in Binghamton, New York. Geneva County, Alabama. Seal Beach in Orange County, California.  Mother Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church, Charleston, South Carolina.

    Massacre. Mass slaughter, indiscriminate killing, mass murder, mass execution – all of these are words that define massacre according to the Oxford American Thesaurus.

    Today as President Barack Obama addressed the country on national television, he did so for the fourteenth time in his presidency to try to offer words of comfort to a bereaved community and a bewildered country in the midst of the horrors of massacres within our own borders. To borrow a phrase from a former American President, Franklin D. Roosevelt, who was speaking one day after the attack on Pearl Harbor in 1945, today is a “date which will live in infamy.” Yesterday in a sister city in the lowcountry of our state, the unspeakable happened; and we joined the names that will live in infamy in this country and around the world for years to come.

    I have watched President Obama in these televised messages to the nation on too many occasions, and I was usually struck by the powerful personal images of hope and comfort that he offered. Today, however, I witnessed an additional layer of anger and frustration as he once again spoke about our lack of ability as a nation to give up our guns. I saw a President whose hair is almost totally snow-white and a man whose face looks much older than his years. I wondered if this president’s legacy was going to be Paul Newman’s Cool Hand Luke’s character’s classic lines: What we have here is a failure to communicate.

    We have a President who rode into town as a new sheriff committed to compromise who found a posse determined to derail him. They just never mixed. And gun control? Well, that has always been just some people talking.

    We grieved for the massacres in the east and the west and states in-between. We truly grieved for these losses and for the families and friends that lost people they loved…people they never even had an opportunity to say goodbye to. But the closer the tragedies are – and this one couldn’t be much closer since the suspect is from the greater Columbia metropolitan area – the deeper the anguish and the anger.

    The world continues to rotate on its axis, but it seems slightly tilted to me. We are off track somehow. We have taught falsehoods to our children through our messages at home in the words we speak and the silences we allow. For example, it’s okay to hate people who are different from us. Nelson Mandela said we are not born hating, and he was right. We learn to hate as surely as we learn to ride a tricycle. Our parents teach us to hate. Our friends encourage us to be bullies. Our heroes send us conflicting images of who the good guys and bad guys are. We have national leaders in highly visible positions who don’t play well together in their houses of Congress. Shame on you. Shame on me for re-electing you year after year to continue cycles of contention and confrontation.

    And so tonight I am in mourning for the survivors of The Charleston Massacre, and I find no words to adequately express my sorrow for them, for their church family, for the city of Charleston, for my state and for my nation.

    Like my President, I fear for our future.

     

    say their names: The Charleston Nine

  • I hope you dance – and they did!

    I hope you dance – and they did!


    In April, 2022, I published this piece which has always been one of my favorites. Fast forward to May, 2025, and well, you’ll see…

    For my actual birthday week, Pretty took me and our granddaughters to the zoo. She carried two-month-old Molly in her car seat, diaper bag on her back, often carrying two-year-old Ella in her left arm while I tagged along with my two bionic knees. We had a small parade of our own. Please know that I offered to rent a stroller when we entered, but Pretty said the line to rent one was too long to wait. There were two people ahead of me. Pretty has never been known for her patience.

    I hope you never lose your sense of wonder,
    You get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger,
    May you never take one single breath for granted,
    God forbid love ever leave you empty handed,
    I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean,
    Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens,
    Promise me that you’ll give faith a fighting chance,
    And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance.

    I hope you dance… I hope you dance…

    Ella danced with a spoon to the music in her mind

    I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance,
    Never settle for the path of least resistance,
    Livin’ might mean takin’ chances, but they’re worth takin’,
    Lovin’ might be a mistake, but it’s worth makin’,
    Don’t let some Hell bent heart leave you bitter,
    When you come close to sellin’ out reconsider,
    Give the heavens above more than just a passing glance,
    And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance.

    I hope you dance… I hope you dance

    (lyrics to I Hope You Dance by Tia Sillers and Mark Sanders)

    The day was a memory maker, and Pretty deserves an award for creating a magical time for the four of us. I love all my girls.

    I hope they both dance…

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

    And they did!

    Molly and her dance partner in the school recital this past week

    Ella with magical moves – no spoon necessary

    Hey, wait a second. Who’s this little boy?

    Three months after our zoo trip in 2022, Caleb was born to Caroline’s twin sister, Chloe, and her husband, Seth. Caleb loves to dance, too, and we love him. God bless the children.

    (Time is a wheel in constant motion always rolling us along,
    Tell me who wants to look back on their years
    And wonder where those years have gone.)

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

    Slava Ukraini. For the children.

  • Losing Carl

    Losing Carl


    Pretty and I were privileged to share our home and family for the past five years with a little old man named Carl. He was supposedly 12 years of age when he came our way, quite a mess health wise but full of courage and spunk. Carl’s world had shrunk dramatically in the past few months due to a total loss of hearing, limited vision, stage four heart murmur, and arthritis in his back legs that made any movements difficult. His sideways gait seemed to make his sundowner pacing in the afternoons more agitated. On Friday, May 9th., 2025, we said our final goodbyes to this terrier mix. Our pain was one we recognized and remembered, a pain that was still fresh from Spike’s passing six weeks ago.

    Carl reminded me a little of The Red Man –

    I hope they get to meet somewhere to swap stories

    Red could tell Carl about the Lexington County Animal Shelter where Pretty rescued him, and Carl would have a few stories of his own that only he knew. Pretty also rescued him; they could compare notes on how she managed to keep them without running their redemption past any other family members. Pretty knew best.

    Carl in July, 2020 when he came to us

    Carl the dog with nine lives in April, 2022

    Carl on patrol in back yard – he loved his yard

    Carl looking dapper after grooming (April, 2022)

    Carl sharing space with Charly next to my chair in den – 2024

    Carl in April, 2025

    Pretty and I still grieve the losses of Sassy, Smokey Lonesome Ollie, Paw Licker Annie, The Red Man, Tennis Ball Obsessed Chelsea, and six weeks ago our other old man Spike – Carl was loved with that same passion. We will miss his spunk, spirit, bravado, loyalty, and adoration – our home won’t be the same without him. His urn was engraved Carl Williams Morris: A Warrior Heart.

    May he go to the Place of Endless Treats and rest in peace.

  • saying goodbye to Carl – the day before

    saying goodbye to Carl – the day before


    “I came to cheer you up,” announced three-year-old Molly as she pulled me the three steps from the carport to the back door of the kitchen. I told her thank you so much and how happy I was to see her, how much I’d missed her and her big sister five-year-old Ella who was galloping ahead of us with her mother, Caroline, and Nana. Molly’s words made me smile – she had already cheered me.

    Caroline had called earlier in the afternoon to say she and the girls were coming over to cook dinner for us that night since we had told her and our son Drew we had asked a veterinarian to make a house call to help us say a final farewell to our little Carl the next day. Since she had been the vet we used when we needed this assistance with our big guy Spike six weeks ago, she was familiar with our location and made the appointment for Friday, the 9th. of May.

    The little girls were like a tornado of energy – their laughter, moving at warp speed all over the house and back yard leaving a path of destruction in their “tree house” and our den – provided a welcome distraction for Pretty and me from the pall that enveloped our house for the past few days of waiting for the inevitable. Caroline got busy in the kitchen and cooked a delicious shrimp creole dish for us. For dessert, she’d even brought a yummy key lemon pie.

    “Let’s take a family photo,” exclaimed Ella when her mother said it was time to go home. After all, it was a school night. Caroline shook her head, said it was past their bedtime, but I chimed in with Ella and argued I thought a picture was a great idea. I felt Ella was trying to postpone getting in the car to leave, but it was the first time she had asked for a family photo at our house so I was 100% on board.

    Ella, Nana, Naynay, and Molly

    I had hoped Carl would stay outside with us for the family picture, but we took too much time getting fixed. When we came inside and the girls were about to leave, I said for them to be sure to give Carl a hug on their way out, and Ella said, “Carl is going over the rainbow bridge tomorrow,” as she bent to give him a hug. Molly took off one of the four necklaces she’d found in Nana’s jewelry inventory and draped it on Carl’s neck. Caroline quickly intervened and gave the necklace to me.

    The girls ran to the car with their mother while Nana and I followed to say goodbye to them. We heard Caroline laugh and asked her what was going on. “Ella said she hoped Carl didn’t run into Spike over the rainbow bridge because there could be a bad fight.” Nana reassured Ella that nobody would get mad at each other on the other side of the rainbow bridge. Caroline added if anybody did get angry, there would be baby gates like Nana and Naynay had in their house to keep Spike and Carl apart.

    Nana and I agreed later that Molly, Ella and Caroline had cheered us, the perfect distraction for the sorrows to come in less than twenty-four hours.

  • Coach Dawn Staley: the stuff dreams are made of

    Coach Dawn Staley: the stuff dreams are made of


    My cell phone rang which interrupted pre-nap reveries, and I was happy to talk to my friend, Garner, who was one of my best basketball buddies ever. He invited me to go with him to the unveiling of the Dawn Staley Statue here in Columbia at 4 o’clock that afternoon. I couldn’t accept fast enough! The day was an unexpected treat.

    After lunch this past Wednesday, I settled into my large recliner for an afternoon of the Madrid Open tennis tournament, a tournament played on my favorite surface of red clay. I had fed Charly and Carl and looked forward to a helping of tennis mixed with my long afternoon snooze. Not so fast, my friend. The call from Garner changed that.

    the order of the unveiling

    my buddy Garner and me at the statue reveal

    Coach Staley’s words seemed to reveal more than the bronze statue behind her.

    “I agreed to the statue not for me, but for the girl who will walk by one day and wonder who I was,” Staley said. “Maybe she’ll look me up. She’ll see that I did some things in basketball of course, but I hope she sees much more.
    “I hope she sees that I was a champion for equity and equality. That, in my own way, I pushed for change. That I stood proudly in the space God called me to inhabit, not as someone perfect or extraordinary, but as a regular girl who used her gifts to open doors so other girls wouldn’t have to knock as hard.”

    Indeed, her statue stands as a symbol of resistance, resilience, and representation. Only 6 percent of statues in the United States depict women, according to UW-La Crosse art professor Sierra Rooney, and even fewer depict Black women. (Curtis Rowser III, BET News, May 01, 2025)

    Thanks, Coach, for three national championships, seven Final Fours, and nine SEC championships. We have been starved to have a top tier team at the University of South Carolina – you have put us on everyone’s radar now. More than that, thank you for what you give to this community, to your basketball “fams” and followers, to all who support you in your efforts to give a voice to the voiceless in an unwavering commitment to equality for all.