It was just a knife

Twenty years ago, Christmas could have happened without me. On Friday, December 20, my mom had passed away - suddenly - while visiting my younger brother, in Arkansas. We laid her to rest, beside my dad, just 3 days before Christmas. 

We seldom get snow, but the morning of her funeral, we had the most beautiful snowfall. Had she been alive, she would have been in Arkansas and wouldn't have seen it. Knowing that she was now able to see our white wonderland didn't make me feel any better. 

My mom's house was in the country and my aunts were afraid that someone would now ransack her house. Because my brother and I both lived away, we had to go through  and clear out most of her things before we left, that weekend. Mom had no valuables - but it was all of sentimental value to my brother and me.

I gathered up most of the kitchen items to take back home with me. They were things that mom had used, over the years. I felt, as I held them in my hands, like I was touching a part of her. Her hands had held the old colander, the sifter, and the little paring knife with the wooden handle. Mom was now a part of my kitchen.

As the years have gone by, I've used that little knife over and over. No one else ever wanted to use it and would laugh at me, as I searched the knife drawer - looking for it. It was the knife I used to peel potatoes, cut up an onion or slice an apple. It was "mama's knife". It was as if I was holding onto her whenever I used that little knife.

A few days ago, as I was getting ready to bake my Christmas goodies, I opened the knife drawer to get Mama's knife......and it was no where to be found. I searched every drawer, but to no avail. There have been many people in and out of my house during these holidays, and I thought it might have gotten placed in another drawer. I hoped it had gotten placed in another drawer - but I was afraid it might have accidentally made its way into the trash.

I've searched, in vain, and Mama's little knife I can no longer find. Strange how small things make up such a part of our lives. It was just a knife to so many people, but to me.....it was a part of Mama.

If only I had a cat.....

Could not sleep.......got up about 4:00 a.m. and was sitting in the L/R when I heard a noise in the Library, behind me. (We don't have mice, but it sounded like a mouse........better not be feasting on my books!!)

I, quietly, got up (don't want to alert the "whatever is in there" and was intent on letting "sleeping dogs lie"). As I got to the Library door, I was met by something....a low-flying "object" flew over my head, and then began flying haphazardly and bouncing around the ceiling.

Whatever it was/is (about the size of a hummingbird, or bat???, or very large locust)
it flew into the fake ferns that sit on top of the high bookshelves in our LR, and hid for a second. It flew above the ceiling fans...careful not to get caught in the rotating blades. I opened the French door from the LR onto the front porch....and no, it did not fly out.

Into the DR it flew.....then into the back door entry hall. I got my broom (yes, the same one I use when I put on my tall, pointed, black hat!). I opened the back door, wide, and tried to invite it out. Away it flew....back into the DR. Now, it's a little after 4:00 a.m., still very dark outside, and I'm in the house with both the front door and the back door standing wide open. I do have my broom in hand (for protection) if something else comes in!! (What am I thinking.....I can't get what's in here, out!!)

Just as suddenly as it all started ......it stopped. The house was quiet. What happened to "it"? Where did "it" go? Is "it" still inside? What was "it"? How did "it" get in, to begin with? I don't have the answer to any of those questions. 

I closed and locked both doors, and sat back down in my chair....with my now cold cup of coffee.

And then my mind turned to things we women think about. If it's a bird....I hope it didn't "poop"......and if it's a locust, please don't shed that shell in my house!!  

If only I had a cat.........

Ms Mississippi

Beauty Pageants seem to abound about this time of year. There is Miss Hospitality, Miss Mississippi, Miss Magnolia, Watermelon Queen, and many of the local towns have pageants of their own.

Some of these pageants have a Teen, a Little Miss, and sometimes there is even a Mrs. (or Ms.) Title.

In fact, I have two friends (my age) who have both won the title of Mrs. Mississippi. The winner this year was Betty Allen Aden, age 72. Betty and I were in college together. She had been a college beauty, so her win was no big surprise. She is also the Creator and Director of the Delta Rockers - a Greenwood, MS show dance group of eight women, ages 65 - 72.

Our 16-year-old granddaughter, Olivia, is no stranger to Beauty Pageants. She was the 15-18 Year old Queen in the 2013 Jones County March of Dimes Beauty Pageant, as well as the winner of the Western Wear Division. She was the second Alternate in the Taylorsville High School Beauty Pageant, this year.

She has begun to think about entering another pageant - one that also has a "Mrs." category. She and her mom were discussing pageant dresses and all the additional accessories required. I had just recently read about my old college friend winning the Mrs. Mississippi Pageant.

I said, "You know, I just might be interested in entering that pageant with you, in the Mrs. Category, of course." I saw the looks like passed between mother and daughter (my daughter and granddaughter). It was one of those "she isn't really serious, is she?"

I continued with, "I'll need to shop for a pageant gown and some high heels that I can walk in without stumbling, or falling, and I'll need to start working on an attractive hair style." I continued with what I would need, additionally, and how much fun it would be to be in a pageant at the same time as my beautiful granddaughter. I was kidding, but they didn't know that, and I was really enjoying getting them all "worked up"!  

They looked at each other, again, and this time I'm sure I saw raised eyebrows, and granddaughter Olivia might even have exhaled deeply. Daughter Gale took a deep breath as if she was weighing the consequences of what she was about to say...and then came..."And you're gonna' need some Spanx!"

I smiled and thought (to myself) "there's not enough Spanx, on the planet, to make me look like Betty Allen Aden!" I have spent too many hours, on my front porch, in a rocking chair!  And that, my friends, was the day I knew that the one Mrs. title I already had was enough!

It took a Village

Fellowship Cemetery, on the outskirts of Taylorsville, is home to over 2,300 gravesites and three Magnolia Trees The largest tree, almost in the center of the cemetery, has stood watch and shaded the graves of some of my ancestors for 90+ years. (Thanks to an article in Southern Pine's monthly 'Today' paper, I was able to determine the approximate age of the tree.)

My mother's Aunt, Missouri "Zude" Hester Fewell, to shade the final resting place of her parents and siblings, and finally her own grave, planted the old tree.

Magnolia Trees while beautiful are also extremely messy, and the trees in Fellowship Cemetery are no exception to this rule.

 

Recently, while searching for tombstones for the Find A Grave website, it was apparent that the people paid to keep Fellowship Cemetery mowed were ignoring the areas under the Magnolias. Not only was the area covered with dried leaves, and dried seed cones, an undergrowth of weeds, briars, brambles, small bushes, and smaller trees had begun to take over the ground and the graves.

As I began to try to pull up some of the weeds, I knew this was a project bigger than I was. I turned to Facebook to post photos and spread the word, and volunteers soon began to emerge to offer time, tools, and much-needed help.

Marilyn Woodard was the first to offer assistance. Larry Robinson and all his equipment, Sammy Scoggin who drove down from Brandon, and Darren "Tuttie" Prince from the Mineral Springs community quickly followed suit and within a few hours, the areas under the trees were almost pristine. Danny Woodard completed the task of hauling away the almost 40 bags of trash and armloads of limbs.

Graves long covered by the undergrowth were now visible. The old cemetery and it's "residents" could now rest in peace. People had come together to restore the area. It had taken a village. 

Know the time, your name, and the right temperature.....

I think today's entire debacle started last night, when I watched the weather on the wrong television channel. The high, for today, was supposed to be only 53 degrees so when I dressed to go to the doctor, I put on a sweater......yes, a warm winter sweater.

When I left the house, it was pouring down rain so it was a little chilly. As I drove down the road, I noticed it was 69 degrees. It definitely wasn't winter sweater weather, but it was too late (I thought) to turn around, go home and change. I had been praying for warmer weather.....my prayer had to change!! Instead of a heater, I needed air-conditioning!

I drove through some "can't see the car in front of you" rain and arrived at the doctor's office about 20 minutes early (I thought). I signed in, found a seat and proceeded to read the new true mystery "The Legs Murder Scandal" book that I had bought, on Saturday, in the neat little Hattiesburg family bookstore.

In just a minute, the receptionist motioned to me to come back to the desk. "Mrs. Gorrell, you do realize that your appointment isn't until 1:45?" (It was now about 11:25.) What!!! Most people are late and here I am, two hours early. Why hadn't I checked the calendar before I left home? (And I had to rush to get dressed!) The doctor was running late, so "No, they can't work you in any earlier." It had taken two months to get this appointment rescheduled, so "No, he has nothing open anytime in the near future. I suggest you go have a leisurely lunch, and keep this appointment." said she, with a nice "I'm sorry" smile.

I went to the Pet Store, and bought a surprise for "the girls", and then to my favorite 'Books-a-Million'. Might as well get coffee and catch up on my reading of the latest Genealogy mags.

At about 1:10 p.m. (13:00 if you do military time), I reappeared at the doctor's office and signed in, once more.  In 10 minutes (I hadn't even read one full page of my book), the nurse opened the door and said "Miss Sarah" (I thought). She was a different nurse than the one he usually had, but this one might just be filling in for her (I thought). I also noticed that her badge didn't have my doctor's name......nope, I didn't say a word! They were probably just helping each other out (I thought).

She had weighed me, measured my tallness (made me grow 1/2 inch......that, I questioned!), checked my blood pressure, and questioned why my heart rate was so low. About that time, the door opened and the "regular" nurse looked in and said "You've got my patient!" The 'fill-in nurse' got a panicked look on her face and said "No, I don't!" Sherry (my doc's nurse) said (very emphatically) "Yes, you do!" At that point, I spoke up and said "I'm Sarah Gorrell" and she said "I called Tara!"   Sarah/Tara, it all sounds the same. (As it turns out, Tara was a new patient so this nurse had no idea who I was supposed to be!)

As we were leaving the examining room to go to my doc's room, the other doctor (had a Hispanic name but looked Asian), came in looking very confused. Where was his "new" patient going? Maybe the "new" nurse explained, I just smiled and kept going. I had already caused enough confusion for one day.

Finally, I saw my own doctor, and his first question was "Did you try to change your name?" Do they tell everything!!!

When he heard I had been in the hospital with heart issues, he said "I didn't cause it." I responded with the first thing that came to mind "they said you might have". Now, he looked panicked....so I quickly said "I'm joking!" I don't think he has much of a sense of humor, he didn't smile.

I'm still going to blame the weatherman it never did get cool enough for that winter sweater........