I'll Call It Like I See It

by sheila morris

storytelling for truth lovers

  • just shy of perfection to me


    My paternal grandparents celebrated their 50th. wedding anniversary in May, 1969, which means they were married in 1919 when my grandfather was 21 and my grandmother was just shy of 16…

    newspaper clipping from Navasota Examiner in May, 1969

    (Grimes County, Texas newspaper)

    They shared a 60th anniversary ten years later, but my grandmother died in May, 1983 which put them a year shy of their 65th.

    Today in 2018 they would be a year shy of their 100th. wedding anniversary. Imagine.

    One of the great regrets of my life is that I was living in Seattle, Washington when they celebrated that golden wedding anniversary. I missed a special family celebration to honor two people who loved me unconditionally and exerted such a powerful influence on me in my early years.

    That influence lives on in my memories, my daily life and, hopefully, my character reflects their best qualities. They were a remarkable combination – just shy of perfection to me.

    Stay tuned.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • peace be unto you, namaste, shalom, toodle do


    Truthfully, I have lost confidence in political surveys since the presidential election of 2016 here in the United States when almost no survey gave DT a snowball’s chance in hell of being elected. Hopelessly wrong, right?

    So let’s just say I now take any survey with a grain of salt. However…this week I saw a survey that reported 61% of Americans now support marriage equality which I thought was really, really fabulous –  it put me on an activist high until I just moments ago told Pretty about these results. Why did I tell Pretty?

    She brought me back down from my euphoric state by saying that same 60% (in another survey) believed all US companies have the right to refuse to do business with anyone who identified as LGBTQ. Whaaaat? Say it ain’t so, survey taker. Hush up, Pretty.

    Now I’m down a rabbit hole and can’t get out which I will blame on Pretty because I decided to look outside the United States to see how LGBTQ people are treated. What I found stunned me.

    Predominantly Islamic countries such as Iran, Saudi Arabia, Iraq and Somalia have laws that follow Sharia teachings of  homosexuality as a “vile form of fornication, punishable by death.” Kill the doer and the receiver by any available method like public stoning which averages as many as six per day in Saudi Arabia or throwing people out of buildings in Iraq and Syria. Peace be unto you is the standard greeting for most followers of Islam, but apparently not for the gays. A more appropriate greeting for us: death be unto you.

    Thank goodness for Israel with its Gay Pride parade every year in Tel Aviv and its progressive policies which make Shalom much more than a word I love to say. Despite original teachings in Judaism condemning male intercourse as contrary to their teachings, the Israeli government has been evolving toward a positive position on equal rights for the LGBTQ community since the 1980s. Somebody stop me right here.

    But no. I included India in my rabbit hole because of the character Raj on The Big Bang Theory which is our go-to nighttime relaxation therapy show, but I probably shouldn’t have because homophobia is evidently rampant in India. Homosexuality is punishable by law with a possible life sentence in prison, although a recently enacted right to privacy statute in India allows the gays to safely express their sexual orientation. Hm. Now I’m wondering how that works in real life. It’s okay for me to say I’m a lesbian, but if I say I’m a lesbian I could be put in jail for life. Tricky. Instead of Namaste, I should say I might be gay or I might not be.

    I could go on and on with Christian denominations in every country such as the Roman Catholics and Protestants who have cheerfully wielded amazing power in condemning the LGBTQ community within the confines of their sanctuaries, spilling over into the ballot boxes and other expressions of political influence; but I’m afraid even Pretty wouldn’t want me to go there on a day as beautiful as this one.

    I will leave you with the reason our UN Ambassador Nikki Haley voted no on a resolution to condemn death penalty sentences around the world against gay people for having sex. Ambassador Haley explained her vote was “because we feared it would lead to all executions being banned in the United States.” Seriously? In what world does that make any sense…

    Enough is enough already. Stick a fork in me. I’m done. I am climbing out of this rabbit hole into the sunlight of a gorgeous day in Columbia. Pretty has moved on to other work activities so I think I’ll see if Spike and Charly want to catch a few rays outside with me. To borrow a happy phrase from Pretty’s good friend Shelley whenever she leaves our house, “Well, toodle do.”

    Toodle do and stay tuned.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • can you walk 4 miles in Pretty’s shoes?


    Occasionally I luck into making a good decision – not often, mind you, just once in a blue moon…

    the moon wasn’t blue, but it was a full moon

    (the view from our little balcony – the moonlight bathed our room)

    My apparently good decision was to take Pretty to the beach for a couple of days for our anniversary. The background story involves Pretty’s penchant for purchasing her own treasures not only for herself but also for her antique businesses which means there is nothing left for me to buy for major occasions such as our anniversary. Enter my idea for the beach trip to Tybee Island, thanks to the magic of online surfing. Yes, Pretty totally gave me credit for this splendid idea.

    neither Pretty nor I had ever been to Tybee Island

    (which is just across the Savannah River into Georgia)

    you betcha!

    As soon as we got to our room, after a minor aggravation at the front desk about who Pretty was and why wasn’t I the one rushing in to handle the check-in process since the reservation was in my name, Pretty took off for the beach to scope out her walking destinations while I made sure the tv was operating properly. She walked a mile the first afternoon we were there and came in raving about the Tybee beach.

    We determined to jump out of our box for tv viewing on our trip, and I became hooked on the house channel when Pretty went out for a walk. Yes, believe it or not, I had never watched the house channel before and I became emotionally invested in the couples who had to make the tortuous choice between “loving” their newly renovated home or “listing” it to move to the most fabulous new home in the universe. I mostly wanted to love it because I definitely preferred Hillary the hot renovator over David the blah realtor. Sigh. Who’s surprised.

    the weather was perfect, the island lovely

    I spent a small amount of time poolside

    the views were spectacular, the colors simply amazing

    Fannie’s offered a wide variety on their menu

    I’m not sure we would recommend the combination of

     nachos and fried shrimp for dinner –

    just because you love them both doesn’t mean they go great together

    Alas, while I pondered the love it or list it issues, Pretty spent most of the next day walking on the beach and ended up walking 4 miles from our northern end of the island all the way to the southern tip and back. Now why would she do something so excessive.  I have no clue.

    She came limping home with a huge blister on the bottom of her foot. Uh, oh. Pretty was confined to quarters, and we watched our very first episode ever of Dancing with the Stars that night. We found the competition among the athletes as gut wrenching as my roller coaster of emotions in the  love it or list it dilemmas. We were disappointed that the snow boarder was bumped instead of one of the basketball players who we felt should stick to hoops – no disrespect intended.

    on the way home Pretty discovered an art gallery…

    …and was excited to find a tiny treasure

    next stop: Bonaventure Cemetery in Savannah

    the infamous resting place that became the cover for

    Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil

    the bird lady statue had been moved to a museum

    but Pretty struck the proper pose

    while I soaked in the views

    Can you believe this luck? An estate sale!

    The end to a truly perfect mini-vacation for Pretty was the adventure of following the Estate Sale Today signs to a secret location hidden in a Savannah suburb.

    Utopia. Bliss. The words I would also use to describe the getaway to Tybee Island…I predict we, as General Macarthur famously declared, shall return.

    Stay tuned.

     

     

     

     

  • the view from behind totally rocks!


    When a birthday begins like this, what can go wrong…

    Spike and Charly were up early with me

    the sun also rises

    I love the early morning outside in the back yard when the sun is coming up through the trees, and all is quiet except the jets on the pool which sound like  mountain waterfalls discovered after a long hike in the hills of the upstate, a hike which I never thought I’d really be able to make because I stopped so many times along the trail to catch my breath and look upward to try to see the end of the trail, hoping to be able to finally hear the majestic roar of the waterfall.

    In reality, when I stopped to rest for a few minutes, what I saw when I looked up was the posterior of Pretty as she forged ahead to scout the next section of the trail to make sure I would have a place to dilly dally along while she continued at her measured pace.  When I stop to think about it, I have spent the last 18 years of my life following Pretty’s posterior. It’s a view I’ve always loved.

    Today my mind meandered to one of my favorite hikes with Pretty. It was six years ago when we followed the trail to Peachtree Rock.

    wherever we hiked, Pretty led the way

     

    Ollie liked to lead, too so he stayed with Pretty

    the waterfall was just enough beautiful

    Pretty and Ollie climbed all the way to the top

    Pretty surveys her spoils as the Victor of that day’s climb

    Peachtree Rock in March, 2012

    (vandals and erosion destroyed the rock in 2013)

    I was lost in my reverie of memories on my birthday in the early a.m. hours when I heard Pretty calling Happy Birthday to me from the hall for the first birthday greetings of the day. By this time I had moved inside to the den, and Pretty sat down next to me as she straggled in sleepily to chat.

    I really can’t believe you are 74 today, she said.

    That’s because I’m 72, I replied and we both laughed out loud.

    Numbers have never been Pretty’s strong suit. She had a convoluted explanation for her gaffe, but in the end was, of course, incorrect. Too funny. If only she’d miscalculated in the opposite direction…

    Birthday # 72 was a rousing success that apparently continues along with anniversary adventures on the horizon. April is a banner month for our family. Number One Son and Pretty Too celebrated their 3rd. Anniversary the day after ours and are thrilled to take their party to an Eric Church concert – whoever he is. I say Party Hearty, kids; these are your good old days.

    I also say stay tuned.

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • I had decided to take a sabbatical from calling it like I see it until…


    …Pretty talked me out of it.

    Yes, Pretty was convinced some of my cyberspace friends would miss me. I told her I thought I might need a break from blogging after almost 9 years so that I could focus on doing some “serious writing.”

    Writing about what? Pretty asked.

    And there she had me.

    I couldn’t think of anything truly earth shattering I had to relate to anyone, nothing pressing that couldn’t wait another year or two, and really nothing I couldn’t say to my friends in cyberspace anyway. Bravo, Pretty. No wonder I married you legally two years ago tomorrow.

    The years have flown by – I never thought I would live to be 30, and certainly never dreamed of 72, but I always dreamed of having a wife from the time I was a very young girl. I just never dreamed one day I would be able to marry another woman legally, and I for sure couldn’t have imagined I would marry a woman as perfect for me as Pretty has been.

    To borrow from The Sound of Music, somewhere in our youths or childhoods, we must have done something good.

    Pretty knows best

    Stay tuned. If you will, I will.