Stitches
I grew up watching my mother make clothes so I developed a passion for sewing at a young age. Mother taught me to use needle and thread to repair fabric, hold it together and give it form…all with stitches put in just the right places. Fun, pretty things were waiting to be made by the hands that wielded needle and thread. Little did I know that there were other uses for these tools. When I was four, my mother had surgery to remove her thyroid gland. I had no idea what thyroid was or what the word surgery meant. All I knew was that Mother wasn’t able to take us to Vacation Bible School so Debbie and I rode with the Farringtons. When class was over the first day, we all ran to the car. Lenny Farrington jumped in, then Billy and Bruce, and then my sister. I...
Under Cover
As a child, I found safety under the covers. A cotton sheet made me invincible and calmed my spirit enough that I could sleep in spite of scary things around me. And there was a terrifying thing in my room: a person coming out of the closet across from the foot of my bed. It was there every night. I was too terrified to whisper to my older sister who shared the room, much less call on my parents. So I relied on my sheet, pulling it over my head, trembling until sleep finally overtook me. When morning came, I never remembered the terror of the night before. Who was the person coming out of my closet? It was Paper Karen, a life-sized picture of me. My kindergarten teacher had her students trace each other on large sheets of paper to be colored and cut out. The...
Loss
Loss hurts. Whether it’s the loss of a beloved pet, an unborn child, a parent or a best friend, the resulting emptiness is hard…often overwhelming. We think of special moments from the past and grieve that, except in our memories, they will never be repeated. And our plans for new adventures with that special someone, we gently fold and place in the recesses of our hearts, quiet storage spaces where we hide unrealized dreams. We cry tears of sadness, but also tears of anger, pounding our pillows and asking, “Why?” We want an explanation, an understanding that will make our loss easier to bear. But an intellectual grasp will do little for a broken heart, acting more like a bandage that won’t stick on one side, leaving our wound uncovered,...
Porchfest
An event called Porchfest is held each year in the Westhaven subdivision of Franklin. Residents throughout the community allow their front porches to be used as platforms for musicians to perform. The event is complete with food trucks and a large stage on the lake for the concert finale of the day. George and I enjoyed walking through the neighborhood, stopping along the way to enjoy a few songs at each porch. We sat on the curb across the street from one performer as a group of three or four couples settled in beside us. Unfortunately, these people weren’t content to sit or stand still listening to the music. They were engrossed in their conversations, mainly about who among them could take the best pictures. Two of the men kept squeezing by me, one after...
Solid Ground
I need solid ground beneath my feet and always have. I shy away from water—fear it, actually—for many reasons. My memories include standing in a tidal pool at the beach when I was six, feeling safe in the calm, shallow water until I looked down and saw several huge crabs, one only inches from my foot. Then there was the time at a church camp on the beach, when I dog-paddled out too far and would likely have drowned had my friend’s younger brother not towed me back to shore. I took swim lessons, but twice failed to graduate from the class. The movie “Jaws” was the final straw. I can’t swim and I refuse to enter water that contains creatures that pinch or bite. The ocean is a beautiful sight and my husband, a scuba diver from way back, loves...
Spatula
The beach is the place to see the unexpected and today was no exception. A lady walking at the edge of the water was holding a spatula out in front of her. Seriously? What does one do with a spatula on the beach? Or was it actually a rear-view mirror? The beach was crowded, but it seemed excessive to be so concerned about getting bumped from behind that you would need a rear-view mirror. I did a double-take, and then a triple-take, squinting my eyes into focus. There was no mirror attached to the gadget. Only a smart phone. The light began to dawn. The woman wasn’t looking at the sand and the magnificent ocean, the very things I came to enjoy. She was taking selfies, probably to post on social media. Technology usage is getting way out of...
The Lodge
I was nine the first time I saw the Peaks of Otter Lodge. That was in 1964, the year it opened. My family was camping, the only way we vacationed, hotels being too pricey for my dad’s wallet. But that was fine by me. Cooking dinner on the Coleman stove, roasting marshmallows over the open fire, using kerosene lanterns, and sleeping on the ground in our green canvas tent made the ultimate vacation for me. And camping in the mountains was best, with the cool air, trails to hike, bears and deer to glimpse, and educational programs led by park rangers. The Lodge was brand new, so we stopped in to take a look. I was awed by what I saw: high ceilings supported by huge beams of wood, shining light fixtures, and a stone fireplace so massive I could walk inside it....
Recent Comments