Gold Tinsel and Colored Lights

I grew up poor.  That's not an excuse or even a complaint.  I didn't know I was poor until I went to Jr. High School at Cloverdale. Definitely an upscale neighborhood in Old Montgomery. Within a few months I realized "Oh, gosh, we are poor".  Up until that time I was like all the other children in the Oak Park area.  The boys, who out numbered the girls by 10 to1, all grew up to be athletes.  Most were good enough to secure college scholarships and better their lives beyond the hopes of their parents.  The girls I seem to have lost contact with.  My father worked hard and we got by.  Sometimes we did without.  Nothing we had to have.  If the child up the street doesn't have a lot more it seems OK to you and you don't feel that you are underprivileged. Even if you live on a dirt road like we did, somehow you don't think of yourself in terms of what you don't have.  You see yourself with a room of your own, plenty to eat and clean clothes. Sharing one bathroom, that would now cause panic in me, but we did it and it didn't seem horrible, certainly not tragic.  Though we were poor and often struggled, our home was always decorated for Christmas and Santa always came and brought most of what we had on our list. I come from a long line of "poor white trash decorators".  Our house was trimmed in the old timey large colored lights which now would embarrass me to death.  A wooden cut out Santa was on the roof, a sleigh strung across the yard.  Snowmen and carolers stood out front.  A Nativity.   Spotlights highlighted a wreath on the door and all the junk in the yard.  Garland on the aluminum carport.  The tinsel kind.  Bing Crosby and Elvis singing carols on a radio in the hall. For a while we had a pink aluminum Christmas tree and sometimes a spinner that changed colors with each rotation. I may choose fairy lights and burgundy ribbons but I don't believe that my "politically tasteful decor" says Merry Christmas with any more love than our little house on East Second Street.  Nor do I believe that my grandchildren will grow up in the same safe and loving environment that I did where we learned to work hard, strive for more and yet give generously to all who were in need.  By the time I reached high school my father's 10 hr days had paid off and we were very comfortable.  As Christmas draws near I am reminded of all I have now and how fortunate I was to be a  daughter of the South and the child of my parents. I am proud to say I have a couple of nephews who'd gladly add the cut out Santa to their yard and if I could find one, that pink aluminum tree would look great in my bedroom. As I write this, I realize its snowing in the North Georgia Mountains.  We may have another white Christmas.  This weekend will be the town Christmas Parade and with any luck all us Hillbillies will be covered in gold tinsel and colored lights.

There's No Place Like Home

I drove back to the North Georgia Mountains this morning after being home in Montgomery and going to Auburn for "the football game".  To my Alabama friends, and enemies, Alabama has a great team and you certainly deserved the win. To my Auburn loved ones, great friends, special people who are so deserving of all wonderful and delightful things, I say, oh well. Its funny how losing isn't all that big of a deal any  more in my life.  You stand there with 80,000 people who want what you want, singing and dancing and having a great time, especially after sampling the Alcohol Punch on the corner of Samford and College Street, and its easier to take a loss. You can enjoy a good run, a fumble by the other guys and sing with the band and in the end, what really matters is that you were there with those you love.  I guess that's why often you read in someone's obit about being comforted in death surrounded by their loved ones.  Neither death nor an absolutely terrible football team can overcome the comfort of family and friends. Watching the excitement on my grandson's face at Tiger Walk, high 5ing young men who looked like giants to him.  The beauty of  Nova's flight. Looking at the trees at Toomer's Corner.  Taking my grandson by the freshmen dorms for his mom's stories. Seeing the old trailer parks and the new Athletic Complex was fun and no loss of a football game could replace knowing that we were all there, together.  For many years I was married to an Alabama Fan( the second one and final one!).  I have held back "Punt Bama Punt" and said almost nothing but kind words when I wanted to Laugh or Cry. Now I know that I could have said all those mean things I thought and really it wouldn't have mattered.  Except to me. I am glad that I was kind.  That I was often overly patient and that I never rubbed his face in it all those years when Auburn dominated the stats.  I am proud that I have not been a fair weather fan nor wife.  Driving back to Atlanta last night we listened to talk radio where fans who last year called in to say Chizik was brilliant and Auburn was spectacular, especially offensive coordinator, Gus Malzahn , now were talking firing coaches, changing game strategies, ya da, ya da. You notice these guys are never at the game or tailgating in the parking lot. They are armchair quarterbacks who never leave the sofa except for another drink. They complain and complain over a loss and dominate the talk shows with grips but they'd have to pull out a map to find the campus. To those fans, I say, "thanks for not coming to the game, we didn't miss you and we had a great time".  There's no place like home, and being at home in Auburn with all my family was great.  It really was ALL IN for the Auburn Family.

Santas, Geeks and Skippers

They always say three times is the charmer.  While that has not proven to be true in marriage, at least for me, it did work out OK in getting my computer fixed.  The third try took.  I am on-line again and I haven't cussed at my computer once in three days.  I didn't say I haven't cussed but my anger has not been directed at Microsoft.  This is truly a record considering all that I have been through with Vista.  I don't even really know what Vista is but I know that its a mess for computer people and its even worse on those illiterates like me. My computer Geek looked exactly like you would have expected.  Long hair in a pony tail and wire rimmed glasses.  Of course that also sounds like all the Santa look alikes up here in the mountains but he did not have a long, flowing white beard. A short white beard.  And a bowl full of jelly (or was it jell-o). I mention this because this past week I went down to Marietta to see my grandson's first Thanksgiving play at preschool and guess who was there?! A Santa look alike. He had on the traditional red T-shirt and flowing white hair and beard.  My daughter explained that this man actually plays Santa.  I was not the least bit surprised anymore.  There are more Santa look alikes up here in Georgia than there are Rednecks in Alabama. One of the children in the play ran up to this man and immediately began telling him how good she had been and what she wanted for Christmas.  I can't tell you how hard it was for me to ignore his lap and not crawl up there myself.  I certainly could say I have been good.  I am almost sick of how good I am being.  And I had a list of requests.  But at least I got one of the first ones on my list taken care of by the Geek.  My computer works.  And now so can I.  Blogging and Match.com searching.  Its hard work but somebody's got to do it and I guess its up to me. A friend called to tell me she wanted to introduce me to someone and I have to go find him on Match or Facebook first so I can look at his pictures and check out his profile.  It might be a blind date, but I am not blind and I want to look him over first.  I have had bad blind dates before so at least now with Match.com and Facebook, I don't have to be surprised if I get set up with Santa.  Probably not though, he's from Florida.  What do they have a lot of in Florida?  Boat captains.  His name is Skipper.  Ho-ho-ho

A Tale of Two Coachs, A Memorial to Coach Bernard Boyd

This past week I saw the fall of two coaches.  One was Joe Paterno who fell from grace in such a way that a long and illustrious career will forever be tarnished and many who had admired him will come to believe he was a failure as a person.  There's been much discussion as to what he knew and when.  What he understood. I have heard it said that he lost sight of the importance of anything except "the team".  He wouldn't allow the names of the players to be placed on the back of jerseys. No individuals only the group as a unit.  Only the team mattered and that individuals faded into the background when compared to the belief in winning and team play.  Even small children. I don't know what he thought or who he is.  The other coach was Coach Bernard Boyd who coached at Lee High School in Montgomery a million and one years ago in the 60s and 70s. During that time I had a perfect flip and short skirts, but not toooo short or they'd sent you home to change.  Its funny but I couldn't remember what he taught and had to dig out the Lee Scabbard to remind myself of his government class and a time in study hall.  I know a good bit about government, mostly that its a mess, so I guess he taught me something. I quite honestly don't know. I made good grades so I must have learned something during that one required semester.  But I can tell you many things he said to me, ways he conducted himself in class. I don't remember in growing up, one time, one incident when I felt threatened, violated, intimidated or harassed in any way. Not one moment when I was afraid of an adult or a teacher. (Well, maybe Mrs. Day in Latin.)  I didn't know what sexual harassment was, I didn't know that adults, teachers, coaches could not be trusted. I thought they were all, well,  like Coach Boyd, a good guy. Interested in helping us grow up as best we could.  I can remember one day when I had  a particularly bad fight with my older, and not wiser, boyfriend at Lanier and I was not in a good mood.  Coach Boyd immediately recognized the symptoms of broken hearted young girl.  He looked me right in the eyes and said "Miss Brendle, you need to come to understand that this isn't the biggest fight you'll ever have, or the worst breakup, or the saddest thing,"  He went on to say that young girls, and guys, sometimes think the world is coming to an end when they have a fight and the truth is, it isn't.  Most of the time if they just wait, just be patient, things work out.  "Don't be in such a hurry to make up or to grow up". I thought he was just an old man and didn't know anything about love. He probably wasn't even 40. This past week,  Coach Boyd didn't fall from grace, he fell to it.  Rest in Peace, Coach and thank you for being a good guy.

No Jail Can Hold Her

Have you ever noticed that in books about small towns all the little shops have a cat?  The bookstore always has one named Sherlock or Shakespeare, the bakery has Muffin or Cookie.  Down the street the gift shop will have a couple with names like Hallmark or Ben Franklin and they roam at will and everyone feeds them.  Our PAR thrift store has Bob Cat. No relationship. But he is in charge.  Sometimes the town pets are dogs like Benji or Tramp as in the movies.  In my quaint little town the shop where I have my booth and work has an assortment of dogs. All rescues.  All kinds.  The guys who own Burnt Mountain Trading Company in Jasper are a couple who are both talented and at times eccentric. Tenderhearted when it comes to animals.  On the days I work the shop it is not unusual to find 4 -5 dogs sitting behind the counter with me. Often they will spend the day with me and even still be sitting, or sleeping there when I leave for the day. I am a shop girl-pet sitter of some sort. Its complicated but small townsy.  Anyway,  I have found that people seem to either live up or down to their names, but I have come to believe it is true of animals also. Behind the counter yesterday sat, well, actually slept,  Angel.  No problem, sweet, at times maybe a little bossy, but she is a Chihuahua so its only natural. Also a Halley, I assume named after the Comet who can be rather explosive. Sleeping peacefully was also Paris Hilton who likes to wear costumes and is a slight show off.  She seems to have calmed down quiet a bit with age and is fast becoming a little lady.  After a vacation trip to Alaska this summer, the guys got a new puppy and selected Juno as her name. But soon her name was revised to Lindsey Lohan. The guys seemed to think she was having problems distinguishing between "NO" and "Juno".  I believe she was already becoming her true self. I don't think she was confused, I think she is stubborn.  And now a dog who could have been a small, quiet town in the Alaska wilderness is a slut. I love her, don't get me wrong.  But if she could spend a few nights in jail I think she like Paris Hilton, would soon learn to behave. Last night as I was closing the store, she jumped into a chair and over a 3-4 foot counter and took off, out the door, into the dark, down the middle of Main Street in Jasper.  I knocked down prospective customers, locked the door and ran down the middle of the street dodging traffic, right behind her yelling "Lindsey Lohan, come to me girl.  Come home".  I am not sure yet what effect this will have on my reputation, either for good or bad,  but I do know that Lindsey Lohan and I will never quiet be on the best of terms again. When I finally caught her, she peed on me and by the time I had closed the shop, counted the money and turned off the lights, I thought I was having a heart attack. A xanax and a glass of wine 30 minutes later convinced me I was only having a panic attack, but should it happen again, it will be an attack all right, but one that may prove fatal for our Miss Lohan.  The legal system may be failing to teach her namesake to behave, but I won't.

All The Good Ones Are Taken

Last night I rested. I am really tired. So I stayed home and watched Water for Elephants and Because of Winn Dixie. Movies I love because they remind me that love comes in all kinds of packages. I mention this because I want to confess I have a terrible crush. I know you wonder "How? She never has a date?" Well, the truth is I have known this man for well over a year. He comes into the thrift store where I volunteer. He always donates and buys the most interesting things. Vintage bubble lights and a pink phone in the shape of a high heel shoe. He is very attractive, nice eyes. No facial hair. He works out at my gym. Doesn't look like Santa, Bubba, or the Rock. Doesn't wear camo. Doesn't hunt. We can talk about anything. And do. He's the kind of guy who you could ask "Are these pants too tight?" and he'd say "No, Honey, but wash them in cold water and hang to dry." He's kind and thoughtful and he knows colors like magenta and mango and turquoise, and uses them in sentences. He traveled by car this summer to California. Singing.  And visited everything I would stop to see. I want to take him to Fairhope and stay at the Grand Hotel and the Magnolia Springs B & B. He's never been and he will love it. The Carmel of the South I tell him.  The owners of the B & B there would love him. He likes Antiques and Art Deco and recognizes good china and manners. I am smitten. I know he likes me too because he's called me and we'll have lunch at his house next week. I'm going to his Christmas party. I don't know what I will wear.  Shiny for sure. He'll say I look "Marvelous" and I will. My friends have pointed out that there is one, tiny little glitch. He has a partner. And I know he won't give HIM up for me. After all his partner is in banking. Well, yes, he's gay. Do you honestly think I found a straight guy this good? Sure, I know.  He will never find me sexually attractive, but, well, I haven't had sex in years, so what's the problem? We'll go to lunch at Madeline's and order the chicken salad and I'll say, "Oh, I can't have desert, I'm too fat." And he'll say" Darling, you look great" and he'll order the strawberry cake and two spoons and then say "Oh, I love your shoes".  And we'll talk about where I got them and he'll know a great place to buy purses. I am in love and once again with someone gay, dead or married.

If you've ever walked through a storm of emotions then you know when you get through it, the world looks more beautiful and the air smells cleaner and fresher than ever before. The colors of the North Georgia Mountains are the vivid hues of goldens, oranges, browns and reds.  They are painted like drops of color across the mountains and are forming a canopy across the winding mountain roads in my neighborhood.  The sky of Autumn is more blue than the most precious day of summer and the gentle breeze whispers of  an early winter but that only heightens the anticipation of a new season, a new day. Today my world feels heavenly. Today I feel like I could write a novel, paint a masterpiece or catch the eye of a good man. Today I found out I am cancer free and, although sore as can be, I will be fine soon. While so many others are not getting good news and many are in fact in pain and are suffering, today I am healthy and blessed way beyond my expectations.  I am so thankful that I don't get what I deserve.  That every day of my life I live knowing who I am, who I love but more importantly, who loves me.   That instead  of being an old witch on Halloween I was just me.  Me,  growing old with Grace.  Marvelous Grace.  Thank you all for your hopes and prayers and for reading my blog.