I'll Call It Like I See It

by sheila morris

Category: sports

  • Emmylou + Pretty = memory maker overnighter


    As we left the restaurant Friday night, the cloudy gray skies we had followed to Greensboro, North Carolina rudely let loose with a deluge of rain for which both Pretty and I were unprepared. Jennifer, our friend who had ordered the Emmylou Harris concert tickets, was clever enough to bring a small umbrella and offered to share but her umbrella was inadequate for the task of keeping Pretty and me dry while we waited for Jennifer’s partner Lisa to rescue us in their SUV.

    Unfortunately, they were parked in a city garage several blocks from our restaurant – a city garage which had closed while we all laughed our way through a delicious dinner. The arm for exiting was apparently defective, and Lisa had to figure a way out that didn’t involve her original impulse to run her vehicle through the arm. Time ticked away. Rain continued to pour like the drops had been saving up from a drought for this opportunity to soak us.

    Pretty and I eyed the umbrellas next to the door in the restaurant and momentarily discussed the ethics of stealing one of them while we waited. We decided against, but the vote was a tie and decided by Pretty.

    When the SVU finally pulled up, we all raced to get in. That is, Pretty and Jennifer raced while my two new bionic knees and I struggled to avoid falling on the drenched pavement to catch up. The time was 7:50 – the concert was at 8 but of course Jennifer had a phone leading us to the concert site at the University of North Carolina Greensboro Auditorium with an ETA of 8. Thank goodness for those cell phone aps, and thank goodness for people who actually know how to use them.

    Our party of four remained in high spirits when we parked in a space near the sign that read Emmylou Harris Parking. The rain had lessened to a drizzle, but that was a moot point by then. I was seeing tiny rivers flowing downward on the lens of my eyeglasses  – we walked toward the building with the lights on next to the parking lot only to discover that was NOT the venue for the Emmylou concert. I cursed the cell phone ap in my mind.

    We walked and walked and walked some more until we found the UNCG Auditorium. Jennifer kindly waited for me at the bottom of the steps I needed to climb to enter. They might as well have been Mount Everest to my exhausted wet knees. She assured me no one was getting in before us because she had the tickets on a phone ap. I had to trust her. We were already 15 minutes late.

    All’s well that ends well, as the saying goes. And this concert was worth the bad weather, the defective parking lot arm and the mixup in our destination. Emmylou’s 73-year-old voice had its still powerful moments, and her musical stories remain timeless. To me, she is one of the greatest troubadours of both centuries she’s performed in.  The five musicians who played with her were masters of their instruments and did their best to showcase her voice and the songs she sang. I was transported to the days before arthritis was a big deal in my life and grateful to our friends for planning to go and including us.

    Greensboro, North Carolina is a two interstate (77 and 85) three and a half hour drive from our home in West Columbia, South Carolina if you ride with most people. Pretty is not most people. She turns any trip into a treasure hunt for inventory for her antique empire which now spans three locations: Three Rivers on Meeting Street, Little Mountain Cafe and Antiques, and Towne Square Antiques in Prosperity, SC.  My wife is a mogul, and she also has a phone ap that can locate all Goodwill stores near wherever she is.

    The morning after our concert drama the sun shined brightly through the LaQuinta motel curtains. Pretty had used her Goodwill ap and found 15 (FIFTEEN) Goodwill stores near Greensboro. We left the comfort of the LaQuinta before the noon checkout time to go on the Great Goodwill Treasure Hunt. I was underwhelmed but determined to rally.

    one of 15 in the area – who knew?

    Pretty finds a treasure!

    Regardless of the drama surrounding our first overnighter in more than two years, Pretty and I managed to have truly tons of fun and laughter together, but I see my trip recovery time will be a little longer than it used to be.

    Stay tuned.

    P.S. I have one special follower, Dick Hubbard,  who rates every post of mine with 5 stars for excellent. He is usually the only person who is faithful to take the time to click that grade for me and has done this for years. I want to take a moment to thank him and wish him five stars for excellent health.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • late to bed? it’s a dog’s life, baby


    So many demands on my time these days. Of course, we have the ongoing political melodrama in the nation’s capitol where Chief Justice of the Supreme Court John Roberts is “presiding” over the impeachment trial of Donald John Trump in the US Senate. To be honest, I might as well be “presiding” if I had the appropriate robe.  That poor man can’t decide anything. Not his fault, just the way the rules are in the upper chamber. No wonder Roberts’  hands were shaking when he was sworn in by Chuck Grassley Monday. He must have seen the handwriting on the wall. The first day ended at 2:00 a.m. the next day.

    Couple the late hours of the Senate trial with the even later hours of the first tennis Grand Slam event of 2020, the Australian Open in Melbourne, and I find myself going to bed later and later every night. Down Under is a phrase I now use to describe myself and my covers when I try to wake up every morning wondering whether it is today or tomorrow. Australian time remains one of life’s great mysteries for me every year during the Open, but my body knows the jet lag in my recliner is real.

    early to bed, early to rise…makes a person healthy, wealthy and wise,

    say Ben Franklin and Pretty

    late to bed, on the other hand, can be a problem

    Stay tuned.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • hear ye, hear ye – calling ALL patriots: Mayday, Mayday!


    Tears rolled down my cheeks today as I watched and heard House Manager Adam Schiff read the two Articles of Impeachment referred to the Senate by the House of Representatives for trial and removal of the president. Listening to the charges of high crimes and misdemeanors in the Senate chamber against the American president Donald John Trump, even a president I never supported, was an unexpectedly joyless experience.

    I think I finally understood what Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi had been reminding the nation in every press conference she’s held concerning this process. Somber, solemn, even sad, the burden of discovery of the facts that forced her to stand up for her belief in the constiution of the United States regardless of political consequences. Her belief, and the conviction of her party’s caucus in the House,  that no person is above the law in this country gave her no choice in pursuing the removal of someone who continued to threaten our national securtiy and ultimately our democracy.

    Today I felt her pain and sadness and wept with her for a country caught up in crisis.

    Pretty tells me that only people like me who have the luxury to watch either MSNBC faithfully or FOX news religiously during the past few months actually cared about the Senate trial or its outcome. Until yesterday I assured her she was wrong.

    But I had a conversation yesterday with a young woman who teaches sixth grade at a middle school here in South Carolina.  Obviously a person with a good education and a teacher for all the right reasons in this her eighth year of classrom experience. We talked about politics – the Democratic debate the night before. I asked her if she watched the debate, and she said no. She was waiting for the later ones. And then she added out of the blue, really politics are a joke in this country since Donald Trump became president. I felt she spoke for many in her generation; I had a sense of loss and frustation that perhaps our brightest younger citizens were turned off by the  divisions, heated hateful rhetoric, the images of a country at war with itself.

    Then last night Pretty was once again proven to be right about the state of political awareness in our nation when three Jeopardy contestants, three clearly smart women who wouldn’t be on Jeopardy if they weren’t, had a question with a picture of a man they were asked to identify. None of the three buzzed in to answer. The man was Adam Schiff, the person who was the face of the House impeachment process during the past three months  because he is the Chair of the House Intelligence Committee which began the investigation into the president’s misconduct as a result of a whistleblower complaint. I have to admit I was stunned at their lack of recognition of this key House spokesperson.

    Clearly I have too much time invested in the parade of outrageous acts that have defined this country in the past three years. Yes, I hope for a change in leadership, but I also hope for a change in our country’s attitudes toward ourselves in our home towns, attitudes that celebrate our differences, attitudes of finding common ground with our neighbors who share the same dreams for their families that we have for ours, attidudes that rise upward toward the men and women who represent us in Congress and elsewhere around the world.

    The outcome of the Senate trial of this president supposedly has already been determined along party lines. I just watched 99 Senators sign a book attesting to their oath for a fair trial. I would like to believe they will be true to that oath. Regardless of the outcome, this is a moment in time for us to decide who we are as a nation. I encourage every American to care enough about our country to tune in to the Senate trial as our history and future unfolds.

    Hear ye, hear ye – calling all patriots – mayday, mayday!

  • boys and girls together


    Finn, Oscar, Dwight, George – these are the names of the most important men in my life for the last nine years. I know for sure the number of years because Finn turned nine years old in November, Dwight will be nine this month, and I’ve known them both since they were new arrivals to the Snyder family in South Carolina and the Huss family in Texas respectively. Oscar, Dwight’s older brother, at eleven years old is the eldest of the Fabulous Huss Brothers of Worsham Street in Texas; George, the youngest Huss brother, is now seven.

    Oscar, Dwight and George in April, 2014

    (photo courtesy of their mother, Councilwoman Becky Huss)

    Pretty holding Finn in April, 2011

    Since my experience with infants becoming babies becoming children has been exclusively with boys, I admit to a certain trepidation when we found out our first grandchild was going to be a girl – a baby girl who is now three months old, a baby girl Pretty and I babysit two days a week while both her parents go to work.

    granddaughter Ella today (01-11-2020)

    (photo courtesy her mother Caroline)

    I adore the men in my life – I always will – but boys, watch out.

    Girls rock.

    Stay tuned.

     

     

     

  • if these are the last days, we better have cash according to Pretty


    Last night Pretty and I were watching who’s the greatest of all time on Jeopardy, bemoaning the fact that neither of us will ever make a million dollars answering questions which we might be able to think of the answers to in due time but certainly not so quickly as the three guys who pushed the buttons in lightning speed for the correct responses on the TV. Pretty said speaking of money, we need to get cash out of our bank account.

    Like most people (I assume most people although I have no concrete proof) we make our purchases with our bank debit cards these days. Rarely is there any actual cash in either of our possession at home or when we’re out among the masses, but apparently Pretty had been alerted by her Twitter folks that these may be the  “last days” as the result of America’s killing an Iranian general in Baghdad over the weekend.

    If these are the last days, she continued, we need to make preparations that include taking money out of the banks which might close as the result of a cyber attack, converting to currency, and hanging on to it for dear life.

    Yes, I said jumping on board with any suggestions Pretty recommended for the last days, and let’s make sure we have gasoline in both vehicles at all times in case we need to make a run for it, I added.

    What about food? Pretty asked. Hm, I thought. That’s a real problem since neither Pretty nor I ever used any appliance in the kitchen except a microwave to heat the takeout and the refrigerator for storing leftovers from the takeouts.

    Evidently Pretty was also worried about the food situation. Never mind, she said, we’ll just buy fast food with our cash.

    After Ken Jennings polished off Round 1 of the Jeopardy tournament, I switched to Rachel Maddow but could barely listen to her detailed explanation of the events of the past few days and our country’s precarious position in the Middle East because I was still mulling over our family plans for the last days.

    For example, how much cash would we need. Pretty had suggested $500. Was that enough? Too much? Who knew? As for making a run for it with two tanks of gasoline, where in the world was I planning on going? Charleston? Charlotte? Landrum?

    Thankfully today tensions appeared to cool after Iran’s retaliatory missile strikes in Iraq yesterday. I will check in tonight with Rachel Maddow after Round 2 of the Jeopardy tournament to try to learn more about the world we live in (for now anyway) and Pretty can revisit with her Twitter peeps to see if they have further suggestions for the last days.

    In the mean time, I have a few unrelated pictures of several of the 24 dogs I’ve had in my lifetime – if these are the last days, I want to think of happy ones – and these are some of the happiest.

    Stay tuned.

    The Red Man and the Old Woman Slow

    (in the early days – spring, 2001)

    Tennis Ball Obsessed Chelsea, Smokey Lonesome Ollie, and The Red Man

    (at Casa de Canterbury, sometime in 2012)

    Spike, he who appeared on Worsham Street and never left us

    (spring of 2012)