I'll Call It Like I See It

by sheila morris

storytelling for truth lovers

  • Ella and Molly James, May 21st. is your Nana’s Birthday

    Ella and Molly James, May 21st. is your Nana’s Birthday


    If this story seems familiar, you have a good memory – the original post was 2 years ago; but significant editing was done to include a second granddaughter!

    Pretty with 2 1/2 year old Ella and four month old Molly in April, 2022

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

    Dear Ella and Molly,

    Once upon a time your Nana visited a faraway place called Greece, and she loved that place very much. One night she was going out to eat the yummy Greek food with your Naynay and their friends because the yummy Greek food was one of Nana’s favorite attractions while she visited the faraway place.

    On their walk to get  the yummy Greek food, a little white dog appeared on the steps in front of your Nana.  The little white dog was very dirty with curly fur that had not been combed for a long, long time.

    Your Nana stopped to sit on a large stone next to the steps. And can you guess what she did next?

    She petted the little white dog for a long time, gave it one of her best smiles and then followed the little dog home to make sure it wasn’t lost.

    The End

    This story has a moral for you, Ella and Molly. Your Nana has always believed in rescuing both people and animals in distress. As you grow older, you will most assuredly see her strength and determination to make your world a better place in action. You are very lucky little girls. Imagine the love your Nana will give you, her special granddaughters, if she made a place in her heart for a little white dog in a faraway place.

    Happy Birthday, Pretty – thank you for rescuing me twenty – two years ago – you’re simply the best. To paraphrase from the book of Proverbs, you are a noble woman who has children and grandchildren that will rise up, and call you blessed. Your wife does, too. I love you dearly and wish you every happiness this year. Celebrate yourself every day.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • no one is born hating

    no one is born hating


    “No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion.  People must learn to hate, and if they learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.” Nelson Mandela (1918 – 2013)

    Nelson Mandela was a super hero to me, a man whose extraordinary personal sacrifice changed the politics of his own South Africa which inspired dreams for peace and democracy around the world. Facing the death penalty for sabotage at his trial in April, 1964  Mandela spoke these words:

    “I have fought against white domination, and I have fought against black domination. I have cherished the ideal of a democratic and free society in which all persons live together in harmony and with equal opportunities. It is an ideal which I hope to live for and to achieve. But if needs be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die.”

    He was sentenced to life imprisonment but was released in 1990 by President F. W. de Klerk who then negotiated with Mandela’s party to end apartheid in South Africa. Twenty-seven years of his life with no personal freedom, and Nelson Mandela became a symbol of freedom for his nation and the rest of the world.  In 1993 Mandela and de Klerk were jointly awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for their work to end the oppression of apartheid in their country. Mandela became the first black president of South Africa in 1994.

    This past weekend the news of another racially motivated massacre of ten Black people in the United States took place in Buffalo, New York, at a grocery store in a zip code the alleged 18 year old shooter stated in his manifesto he believed had the highest percentage of black people close enough to where he lived. According to Dustin Jones of NPR today the teenager said “the influx of immigrants, more specifically people of color, will lead to the extinction of the white race…decrease in white birth rates equates to a genocide.” This young man was not born hating, but somewhere along the way he was vulnerable to evil influences similar to those that enabled a 21-year-old white man to murder nine Black people while they held a prayer meeting in the Mother Emanuel AME church in Charleston, South Carolina in June, 2015.

    Meanwhile almost 5,000 miles from Buffalo, New York across the Atlantic Ocean, a 21-year-old Russian soldier was put on trial last week in Kyiv for allegedly killing a 62-year-old unarmed Ukrainian civilian riding his bicycle on a road in the Sumy region when the soldiers suspected the man of telephoning their location to Ukrainian defenders. Russians and Ukrainians may share the same color skin but radically different ideas about their governments – the ideals of democracy the Ukrainians believe in are very much like Mandela above who was prepared to die for his hope in a “democratic society in which all persons live together in harmony and with equal opportunities.”

    I am at a loss to understand the ongoing mass shootings in my country, an experiment in democracy that has failed to deliver on its promise of harmony and equal opportunities for all. Not only has the nation failed in providing fundamental rights to all but also is currently in the process of a sitting Supreme Court actually reversing some of the precious fundamental rights that were guaranteed for the past 50 years. What’s that I hear? Oh, never mind. It’s only the cries of 166 million females in the US as we await the decision of 6 men and 3 women called the Supremes who will determine whether the government controls our bodies or we do.

    If Mandela can be our north star, then we have the capability of teaching love to our children as surely as we teach them to hate the persons of different colors, different political beliefs any “other” from ourselves and our families. Portions of the human race are surely broken when we teach teenagers and twenty-somethings as children to hate enough to kill with weapons we refuse to prohibit.

    But that’s a topic for another day.

    *******

    Stay safe, stay sane, and please stay tuned.

  • kids say the darndest things

    kids say the darndest things


    Pretty Too, Pretty, Ella, Molly – Mother’s Day Brunch

    Number One Son and Pretty Too treated Pretty and me for a Mother’s Day brunch at our favorite restaurant Luzianna Purchase this past weekend. When we arrived approximately on time (for us), everyone was seated at the lovely table including two and a half year old Ella who sat at the far end of the table looking very grown up in a regular chair with no booster seat – her head barely visible above the table’s edge. She greeted us with “Daddy is going to order for me. I wouldn’t mind if you brought me Cheetos.” Now why on earth would that child think Pretty and I would have brought Cheetos? Hm.

    Brunch was delicious even without Cheetos – luckily Ella discovered New Orleans style beignets were equally yummy.

    The adults raved over chocolate truffles, blackened shrimp and grits, Eggs Benedict, French toast and “Mamosas.”

    Number One Son and Molly say Brunch a huge success

    As we said our farewells in the parking lot with hugs and Happy Mother’s Day wishes, Ella looked down at me from her father’s arms, wagged her finger at me and said out of the blue but clearly from a place of parental admonitions when being sent to her room for an afternoon nap, “Don’t play in your bed, and don’t play with your toys.” I assured her I would do neither.

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

    Thanks for sharing this Mother’s Day adventure with us. Pretty and I appreciate every day with our family but never forget the mothers and children of Ukraine who struggle for survival in unspeakable circumstances, mothers everywhere who struggle with overwhelming grief and loss, daughters who are motherless. May God the Mother grant you comfort and amazing grace.

  • my church

    my church


    I’ve cussed on a Sunday
    I’ve cheated and I’ve lied
    I’ve fallen down from grace
    A few too many times
    But I find holy redemption
    When I put this car in drive
    Roll the windows down and turn up the dial

    Can I get a hallelujah

    Can I get an amen


    Feels like the Holy Ghost running through ya
    When I play the highway FM
    I find my soul revival
    Singing every single verse
    Yeah I guess that’s my church

    When Hank brings the sermon
    And Cash leads the choir
    It gets my cold cold heart burning
    Hotter than a ring of fire
    When this wonderful world gets heavy
    And I need to find my escape
    I just keep the wheels rolling, radio scrolling
    ‘Til my sins wash away

    Can I get a hallelujah
    Can I get an amen
    Feels like the Holy Ghost running through ya
    When I play the highway FM
    I find my soul revival
    Singing every single verse
    Yeah I guess that’s my church

    Songwriter/singer Maren Morris and I belong to the same church – except she and co-songwriter Michael James Ryan Busbee found their church riding in a car while I found mine driving along the back roads of Montgomery and Grimes Counties in the cab of an old 2004 Dodge Dakota pickup truck when I came home a second time to Texas from my home base with Pretty in South Carolina for four years in 2010 – 2014 to care for my mother who struggled with dementia. Can I get a hallelujah? Can I get an amen?

    Growing up in rural Richards, Texas in the early 1950s the First Baptist Church was my family’s experience with God the Father providing salvation of souls from sin, redemption through the blood of Jesus Christ the Son, ongoing forgiveness through the presence of God the Holy Ghost. However, each family member didn’t experience the Holy Trinity in exactly the same way which added to my confusion as I listened to the sermons of preachers who were absolutely 100% convinced they were giving their congregation a lifeline to escape the burning fires of hell following death. My daddy and mama believed that message as long as they lived. Can I get a hallelujah? Can I get an amen?

    On the other hand, my paternal grandmother Ma roasted the preacher every Sunday dinner after church like Trevor Noah roasted President Joe Biden at the 2022 White House Correspondents’ Dinner last night. She was quick to criticize biblical interpretations she found hypocritical, particularly when the preacher talked about sins of the flesh but paid too much attention in her opinion to a certain attractive woman he often visited when her husband was away at work. Can I get a hallelujah? Can I get an amen?

    My mother was thrilled when I enrolled in a Southern Baptist seminary to do post graduate work in church music and theology in the early 1970s. She told me she gave me to God on the day I was born in 1946. God would do miracles through me, she added. Can I get a hallelujah? Can I get, well maybe, let’s leave it at hallelujah because she was appropriately horrified when I left her church and its homophobia too many years later. Now can I get an amen?

    I’ve cussed on a Sunday and every other day of the week. I’ve cheated and I’ve lied in more than one relationship in my younger and middle age years – I know I’ve been undeserving of grace a few too many times. But I found holy redemption in those Texas years when I put the truck in drive, rolled the windows down, and turned up the radio dial. When I played the country music legends station I found my soul revival as I sang every verse. Yeah, I guess that was my church. Can I get a hallelujah? Can I get an amen?

    Tonight the Country Music Hall of Fame will have two new names added in their awards ceremony, Naomi and Wynonna Judd, better known as simply The Judds. Unexpectedly mother Naomi died yesterday from “mental illness” according to a family statement. For those of us who are fans of The Judds and their music the loss is a painful one. I saw them perform here in Columbia in the 1990s – I can’t remember the year, but I do remember being so taken with them that a friend and I drove to Charlotte, North Carolina for that same concert the next night. The Judds are members of my church.

    Can I get a hallelujah? Can I get an amen?

  • Still I Rise by Maya Angelou (1928-2014)

    Still I Rise by Maya Angelou (1928-2014)


    You may write me down in history
    With your bitter, twisted lies,
    You may tread me in the very dirt
    But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

    Does my sassiness upset you?
    Why are you beset with gloom?
    ‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
    Pumping in my living room.

    Just like moons and like suns,
    With the certainty of tides,
    Just like hopes springing high,
    Still I’ll rise.

    Did you want to see me broken?
    Bowed head and lowered eyes?
    Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
    Weakened by my soulful cries.

    Does my haughtiness offend you?
    Don’t you take it awful hard
    ‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
    Diggin’ in my own back yard.

    You may shoot me with your words,
    You may cut me with your eyes,
    You may kill me with your hatefulness,
    But still, like air, I’ll rise.

     

    Does my sexiness upset you?
    Does it come as a surprise
    That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
    At the meeting of my thighs?

    Out of the huts of history’s shame
    I rise
    Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
    I rise
    I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
    Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
    Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
    I rise
    Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
    I rise
    Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
    I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
    I rise
    I rise
    I rise.

    Source: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/still-i-rise-by-maya-angelou

    And Still I Rise was author Maya Angelou’s third out of five volumes of poetry published in 1978 to mixed reviews for some strange reason known only to reviewers. April is National Poetry Month in the US so I couldn’t miss the opportunity to showcase one of my favorite poets: African American author, civil rights activist, and truth teller Maya Angelou.

    I sprinkled several of my favorite Maya quotes this month on my sidebar beneath the archived posts of I’ll Call It in an effort to share her wisdom that transports her words on wings to our ears and minds if we are willing to listen.

    In 1998 Maya Angelou spoke at the Second Annual Human Rights Campaign National Dinner; her speech that evening focused on the importance of gay people coming out of the closet. 

    You have no idea who you will inform because all of us are caged birds,

    have been and will be again.

    Caged by somebody else’s ignorance.

    Caged because of someone else’s small-mindedness.

    Caged because of someone else’s fear and hate…

    and sometimes caged by our own lack of courage.

    I miss Maya Angelou not only for her words but for her voice when she spoke. The rich, slow – almost ponderous – rhythms of her speech mesmerized me, and the deep rumbling voice was like the sound of my old Dodge Dakota pickup truck’s muffler when I started it first thing in the morning.  Music to my ears.

    Thank you, Luanne Castle (see blogroll), for reminding me to celebrate the rich history and present work of our American poets this month. When I was a child, my daddy enjoyed nothing more than to recite a poem to me – I know he would have loved a National Poetry Month.