I'll Call It Like I See It

by sheila morris

Category: Slice of Life

  • ho hum…just another total eclipse of the sun


    Admit it – not everyone was as psyched about the solar eclipse as the weather people have been for the past week or the astrologers who waxed eloquently about how the eclipse was an opportunity for new beginnings to correct our individual and collective wayward ways…or the more scientific astronomers who were so busy setting up their gazillionth power telescopes and cameras as they frantically tried to preserve a celestial event they believed to be worthy of safeguarding for themselves and their posterity.

    The sale of eclipse glasses, t-shirts, baseball caps, souvenir shot glasses, coffee mugs, dog collars, and yes, even postage stamps, boosted the US consumer confidence index by astronomical amounts during the time of the retail business cycle that usually struggles to survive. The massive movement of millions of Americans to find optimal viewing sites for the eclipse generated an uptick in revenue for transportation, hotels and motels, campgrounds, and the food and beverage industry. The solar eclipse was big money, Vanna.

    The gods in charge of solar eclipses smiled on Columbia, South Carolina to make it one of the premier viewing spots in the nation due to the length of time for the visibility of the total eclipse here. People came from far and near to seek out the best possible spot for watching the solar show.

    On a personal note, I really wasn’t all that excited about the eclipse. I’d seen the hype, the excitement of my friends and family, the media coverage ad nauseam but somehow I couldn’t figure out why anyone would be that thrilled to see something that lasted only 2 1/2 minutes. I mean, seriously people, get a grip. I became the Grinch that stole the Solar Eclipse at Casita de Cardinal.

    Pretty, on the other hand being who she is, was energized by the eclipse via the enthusiasm of her social media friends and their posts for the past weeks. She took it upon herself to have a small eclipse party at our house by inviting friends of ours from North Carolina who were in town to see family plus the highly touted solar eclipse. Come on over said Pretty, and they did.

    So we had a spontaneous eclipse party with an eclectic inter-generational mix of two older women, three middle-aged women, and a 15-year-old girl. Since it was a summer day and hot enough to fry an egg on our cement walkway, our guests moved directly from the front door through the house to our swimming pool in the back yard.

    I tagged along behind them to be sociable but didn’t plan to get in the pool or stay outside very long in the heat. The wiser half of our little party jumped in the pool immediately while I sat in one of our poolside chairs to visit with the other two. Charly loves a party so she went around to everyone for petting  while Spike went back inside to the cooler air. Spike is nobody’s fool.

    Our friend Jennifer handed out the eclipse glasses she’d brought for everyone, and I made the mistake of putting on a pair to look at the sun which was perfectly visible from our back yard. The moon was just beginning its slow crawl across the sun, and I was transfixed at the sight. Hooked on the solar eclipse. I went back inside, put on my bathing suit, joined the others in our pool and spent the next two hours captivated by the movement of the moon across the sun. It was marvelous.

    Elle and Pretty taking it all in

    thank goodness for Pretty’s insatiable curiosity

    Lisa carried her mother Vicki for a cool ride

    Luckily for them, our guests had eaten lunch before they came to our house at 1 o’clock and had brought a cooler full of ice and drinks. Since our party was a bit impromptu, the best snacks we had to offer were two types of potato chips – one ruffle, one plain – with no dip. Since Pretty was monitoring other eclipse parties on Facebook posts, she was able to show us pictures of the elaborate spreads we were missing. Not to be outdone, however, she did have a Milky Way candy bar that she cut into eight pieces for the celebration of the momentous total eclipse.

    The pool water was cool and the solar show was spectacular. The moments of the total eclipse were amazing. The wind stirred quietly through the trees around us. The stillness of an impostor nightfall was interrupted by crickets chirping and the fireworks of our next door neighbors. The temperature dropped six degrees as if the sun were trying to say This is how powerful I am in comparison to your paltry planet of earth.

    Everyone at our little party oohed and aahed during the two and a half minutes of the actual total eclipse. We all agreed we had been witnesses to truly magical moments. Unbelievable, someone said as the sliver of the sun began to reappear and the moon slowly made its way beyond.

    We were all awe struck with the realization we had seen something we might never see again in our lifetimes.

    At this moment Pretty said, You know, I thought it would be darker. I felt like it would be so dark we wouldn’t be able to see anything around us.

    Lisa chimed in with, I thought that, too. I really was expecting it to be really dark out here. Her teenage daughter Elle said, I was hoping for darker, too.

    I laughed and said isn’t that just the way we humans are. We experience a miracle – and then complain that it didn’t meet our expectations. Everyone LOL.

    Regardless of our human nature, this eclipse Grinch was now a believer and was grateful to have been part of the chance for our country to take a collective breath from the national shame of the tragedy of Charlottesville to experience the majesty of a solar eclipse with its promise of peace.

    (images courtesy of Jennifer Redd-lovette)

     

     

     

  • Breaking News: Interview with a Mushy Middler


    The mushy middle – and I’m not talking Hostess Twinkies here. No, the “mushy middle” and the “soft center” are names given by politicians and pollsters to the highly sought after silent majority of the electorate who have never attended a rally other than a pep rally at school, never write letters to the editor, regularly watch more than one news channel on TV, don’t give a tinker’s dam about confederate statues, and pal around with friends whose major topic of conversation isn’t politics. Holy Smoly, life must be much less stressful in the mushy middle, or is it?

    Inquiring minds want to know, so I’ll Call It took to reality blogging and found a card carrying member of the Mushy Middle who agreed to be interviewed as long as she could remain anonymous in order to avoid “outing” any of her middling friends. The interview was conducted two days before the Eclipse.

    I’ll Call It: For the record, is it true you identify as a member of the Mushy Middle?

    MM: Yes, that’s true. I am a proud member of the Mushy Middle and I’ll tell you why – I am always Undecided until the very last moment before I step into the voting booth. I vote for the person – not the party because I don’t like either one of those behemoth political machines that are 100% responsible for the mess we’ve made in our country. Basically, I think all politicians are crooks.

    I’ll Call It: I see. Well, do you mind telling me the name of the person you voted to elect President in 2016?

    MM: I voted for Donald Trump, but I didn’t tell anybody…not even if they asked, and a lot of those pollsters called me to ask. I thought it was nobody’s business if you care to write that down.

    I’ll Call It: Hm. Yes, I’ll definitely put that down; thank you for that bit of information. I really appreciate it. Do you mind telling me what characteristics of Donald Trump appealed to you?

    MM: Certainly. For one thing, he wasn’t Hillary Clinton. Everybody knows she’s a crook and a liar – they’ve already proved that with those emails of hers, haven’t they?

    I’ll Call It: Well, actually no. But surely that wasn’t the only reason you voted for Donald Trump?

    MM: Of course not. Are you calling me one of those women haters who don’t want other women to succeed – is that what you’re trying to say because if it is, I’m calling off this interview right now. I’m beginning to get a sneaking suspicion you’re trying to trap me into saying something I don’t mean, and I don’t like it one little bit. As a matter of fact, I don’t like you. Period.

    You’re one of those elitist reporters running around putting words in people’s mouths and making up phony photos showing KKK members with machine guns, for God’s sake. I have friends in the KKK, and they are super nice people who wouldn’t hurt a fly.

    I’ll Call It: No, that’s simply not true. White supremacists and KKK groups aren’t the good guys really. They go against everything America has stood for since we got started. They don’t believe in equality and justice for all. Their beliefs are the antithesis of our core beliefs in a democracy.

    MM: Oh yeah? Well, who else cares enough about our country’s history to try to preserve these beautiful statues we’ve had everywhere for two hundred years? What are we going to do with all the holes where the beautiful statues were? Has anybody thought about that?

    MM: Furthermore, I get it. I see you are not anything but a fake news reporter, so I am terminating this interview. Don’t ever let it be said that a Mushy Middler can’t smell a skunk a mile away. Adios. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.

    I’ll Call It: But I wasn’t done – we never got around to why the Mushy Middle is  apathetic to the political happenings in America today or what you thought about Steve Bannon’s being kicked out of the West Wing.

    MM: I am sick to death of jerks like you who think you’re so smart and know everything. I don’t want to be on your side or their side. I just want to go my own way so leave me alone! Who’s Steve Bannon?

    P.S. Okay, so maybe the interview wasn’t as successful as I’d hoped, but I learned one thing for sure. Clearly the Mushy Middle isn’t as apathetic as advertised. Holy Smoly.

     

     

     

     

  • when I think of America, I think of…


    Abraham Lincoln .. Louis Armstrong .. Hank Williams .. Emily Dickinson … Jackie Robinson .. Bob Dylan .. Eleanor Roosevelt .. Clarence Darrow .. Herman Melville … Howard Hawks

    Regards, Thom (Great Britain)

    All the Americans I know are wonderful people…So it’s difficult as an outsider to see what’s happening in your country and wonder who all these idiots are. I guess every country has it haters and ugly side. People who have a sense of entitlement and think they are superior are those I tend to avoid like the plague – but if they’re running the place, they can be very hard to ignore.

    Dianne Gray (Australia)

    Thank you so much to everyone who responded to my question When I think of America, I think of…

    The first two comments shown above are ones from outside the Unites States, and I was deeply moved by their focus on the people we are rather than the headlines we currently create. Thank you, Thom and Dianne, for your thoughtful consideration of the question and your insights from across the oceans.

    The following comments are from readers who are  American citizens and also had very thoughtful responses to the question When I think of America, I think of…

    Freedom first, but then in recent years I have felt embarrassment and regret. Our system does not work the way we were taught in 7th grade civics, and I’m disappointed.

    Robyn, Texas

    the Constitution and Bill of Rights serving all our citizens EQUALLY and extended to guests of this country as they visit, work and study here, in what one hopes is safety.

    Wayside Artist, Pennsylvania

    Freedom … and we’re still working on it for everyone.

    Bob Slatten, South Carolina

    Freedom! and to be proud of our country and her leaders…its pretty simple- or i use to think it was.

    Cindy, South Carolina

     . hope. I just can’t allow myself to believe that a country that elected Barack Obama, supported healthcare for all, recognized the importance of protecting our environment, and worked to guarantee that two people who love each other can marry can let hate win. At least, I don’t want to allow myself to believe that. So I cling to hope.

    Miss Harper Lee, Louisiana

    When I think of America, I think of a nation that is deeply troubled and divided – a nation at a moral crossroads desperately in need of  courageous leaders who will speak up and right our ship of justice and equality for all that is being blown about by winds of hatred and bigotry.

    Now is the moment – a house divided against itself like the city we saw in Charlottesville, Virginia cannot stand.

     

  • repeat after me, repeat after me


    I have a confession to make: I hate the white supremacists, KKK, neo-nazis, fascists – whatever name the far right demonstrators are calling themselves today – as much as they hate me. So there.

    I need to go back to my high school civics class where the teacher should instruct me to write on the blackboard at the front of the room:

    “Hate is not an American value, tolerance is.”

    “Discrimination is not an American value, inclusion is.”

    “Violence is not an American value, dialogue is.”

    Complete this sentence:

    When I think of America, I think of…

    What do you think of?

    (Send me your answers in the comments section please.)

     

  • this is TROUBLE = OMG!


    The little room was as cold as a witch’s you-know-what in spite of the intense glare from the bright spotlight shining down on me while I lay stretched out on the large chair now completely reclined to become an operating table in the dermatologist’s office Thursday.

    I felt like I was a member of the happy family that was visible in the 46 photos hanging neatly on the three walls that surrounded me because I had plenty of time to study them while I was waiting for Dr. Anon. The wall behind me was a small row of cabinets with a sink, disposable gloves container, assorted medical instruments and supplies; but I had been lying in the recliner long enough to study the family images in some detail.

    Dr. Anon was in a few of the pictures with his wife and four children who looked just like a combination of their parents. I recognized some of the places where the photos were taken, but the ones of the family on camels threw me off a little. Frankly, the idea that the good doctor was a camel rider made me a little anxious for some reason. Why shouldn’t doctors ride camels, my sensible self said as my irrational self felt an overwhelming desire to jump up and run out of the room.

    I was waiting for the results of my basal cell skin cancer surgery from two hours earlier. If all went well, I should be up and out of the doctor’s office by the time I could say Marcus Welby. As my mind wandered, I thought about Marcus Welby M.D. and the actor Robert Young who starred in the TV show which led me to a memory of Loretta Young as she opened the door swirling her skirts to begin The Loretta Young Show on Sunday nights which took me down the road to her affair with Clark Gable. I was almost out of mental ramblings when the door to my little room opened and Dr. Anon walked in followed by his assistant Shirley.

    The smiling man riding the camel in the photo had been replaced by a much more serious fellow and an even more solemn assistant.

    “This is trouble,” said Dr. Anon with a slight frown. The nurse nodded and began assembling the surgical instruments again.

    I had two fleeting thoughts: One was the mental image of the woman at the Verizon Center who was the subject of my post several weeks ago (July 19th.) – the woman whose first comment when she looked at the cell phone I had brought in with problems to be fixed was, Oh my God. She had continued to repeat OMG off and on for the hour she pretended to work on my phone. Many of my photos I lost that day are still lost. OMG.

    The second thought that flew across my brain was the TV commercial with the dentist who told the patient (lying in a similar recliner to the one I was on) with his mouth locked in an open position that he had one of the worst cavities he had ever seen and then the dental assistant says, It’s bad. Lunch? and they walk away because their jobs were to diagnose problems – not to fix them.

    To his credit Dr. Anon didn’t run away but went back to work on my skin cancer issue with a vengeance. After the second round of numbing and snipping, I was released to a smaller waiting room where Pretty and I sat for another hour with two very tall men who at one point switched the communal TV from the weather channel to Fox News. Ding. Ding. Ding. Not so fast, my friend. I politely picked up the remote and found CNN without any difficulty. No one said a word. Time marched on.

    Much to our surprise, Dr. Anon  himself strolled into the small waiting area/ break room to apparently have lunch since it was by now after 1 o’clock. Once again the cheerful man in the family photos, he drank his lunch from a beer mug which contained a brown liquid reminiscent of beer but of course mustn’t have been since his work day wasn’t over.

    The tall man whose ear  was in the same unfinished state as my nose suggested to Dr. Anon we might need a drink more than he did. Following some good-spirited joking around discussing everyone’s favorite bourbon, Dr. Anon went back to his office, produced an open bottle of Jacob’s Creek bourbon and offered the two men, Pretty and me a drink. The two men and I accepted with enthusiasm. Pretty declined.

    Dr. Anon went back to work while my two new friends and I chatted in the waiting room – setting any political differences aside as we shared our healthy shots of bourbon in an attempt to keep our spirits as high as our pain levels. I hated it for all those pioneers who had had to rely on bourbon instead of Novocaine for pain relief. Novocaine wins…no contest.

    Finally, six hours and 22 stitches later, Pretty and I left the doctor’s office with two prescriptions and less money than we’d had when we arrived. The two tall men were nowhere to be seen, but the waiting room was full.

    Pretty drove me home where I immediately took to my bed with the vapors and dreamed about  a doctor who said Oh my God when he saw me reclined on an operating table and a woman at a cell phone store who kept saying This is Trouble over and over again as she banged my phone on her counter.

    More meds, please.