Hurry Up Springtime!

It has been an odd year for weather, so far; warming some days only to turn cold that night; cold for several days and again turning warmer.  Deborah said a few days ago, "I am tired of winter clothes and I am ready for spring."

Indeed!

We have had a changing of the guard at our bird feeders over the month of March.  Our adult orioles that have been with us since January have disappeared (although the juveniles are still here), and we have a fresh crop of brown-headed cowbirds and red-winged blackbirds.  

A couple of weeks ago we were riding somewhere and saw a whole grouping of white blossomed trees.  We knew that some of them were pear, of some variety but were unsure of the rest.  Dogwoods were not blooming yet, which led to the mystery. 

Last weekend they printed the Macon Telegraph on pink paper.  This bit of encouragement meant only one thing (in Middle Georgia): Cherry blossom time!  Nearby Macon has had an annual festival for over 40 years to celebrate the blooming of the more than 300,000 Yoshino cherry trees in the Macon-Bibb County area. 

We have an old blooming cherry tree in our backyard.  Although I am not sure if it is Yoshino or some relative, it certainly does not follow the official blooming period of the Cherry Blossom Festival in Macon.  It blooms on its own timetable.  Colonel Lucien Whipple planted it here more than 40 years ago.  Every year we wonder if its time has come to depart from the living, but it remains.

Every time the weather looks promising this spring, it seems to turn cold again.  This past weekend, especially Saturday was just gorgeous.  Then it was cooler Sunday and Monday.  Tuesday was rather nice and it was 28 degrees Wednesday morning.  My wife longs for different clothes to mark the beginning of spring and summer.  I do too, but even more, I’m ready for the end of cold feet and dry, itchy skin season.

To me there is something invigorating about the days getting longer.  I understand that the length of daylight is an ever-changing thing, but springtime is when it really hits me that the days are getting longer. 

I have lived my life within a ten-mile radius of Cochran, but I have visited northern cities.  Having spent time in the Chicago area, I wonder how people stand the short days of winter there.  With the sun not coming up until after 8 AM and setting somewhere around 4 PM, you only see sunshine during the weekends, and not a lot even then.  I am not prone to depression, but that would certainly wear on me.  At least I think that it would. 

I hope to have some lettuce and other edibles planted in the next few days.  Hopefully, the cold snap of below freezing Tuesday night is our last this season.  I am ready for some locally grown tomatoes, blueberries, strawberries and fresh okra that warmer days will bring.

Of course, I’ll probably have a different opinion in late August.

People are Funnier Than.........

Almost 30 years ago a coworker and friend I'll call Dwayne said, “people are funnier than anybody.”  My friend was right.

It has always amused me that people apparently think they are invisible when they get into their car.  Even when they are driving, women “adjust” and check out their makeup or their hair as if they can’t be seen.  Men clean their ears, primp, pick their teeth and even worse.  People reading a book, a map or a newspaper have passed me on the way to work. 

About ten years ago, the same woman passed me almost every morning as I drove to work.  Not that I mind being passed by a woman, but I was driving about 65 and she was applying eye makeup as she passed me, using the lighted mirror on the back of her sun visor.  Since it was before daybreak, I would watch as the glow of that lighted mirror would go over the distant hill in front of me each morning.

Men and women now use their commute time to talk on their cell phones.  Don’t get me wrong, I do it sometimes myself.  Other than the time you are dialing, I don’t think that the act of TALKING on a cell phone is any more dangerous than talking to someone in the car with you.  I have been surprised to see some pass me, holding their cell phone with one hand and gesturing with the other.  It made me wonder what kind of autopilot they had.

  

Cell phones certainly are a real asset for us to keep in touch with our family, loved ones as well as work.  It has finally moved from status symbol to a useful tool and finally just about a necessity.  However, I continue to be amazed by how some folks act as they use these things.  Some folks must believe that they become inaudible as soon as they hit the “send” button.  Either that or they completely lose their sense of where they are.  Once while traveling,  I overheard a woman talking on her cellphone, who was walking through the airport say, “Yes I’m here in Orlando and I just hate this airport.  It is the absolute worst!”  She was getting in line for ice cream on concourse B at the ATLANTA airport.

People that would look at you like you were CRAZY if you ask them their name think nothing of exposing their name, address, phone number, Social Security number, mothers maiden name and more while talking in public on their cell phone.  I have heard about hysterectomies, gall bladder surgeries and divorce, all in more detail than anyone would want to hear, while waiting for a table at Longhorn. 

When you travel, it seems as though it is even worse.  I have heard lawyers give advice, and threaten while in the privacy of the gate area with 200 other people waiting for a plane.  I have overheard enough business details in a series of cell calls that someone listening could have absolutely wrecked some pretty good deals.

I think that parking lots are probably the most unique place for people, though.  Like on the road, people must believe that they are invisible not only as they drive into the parking lot, but also must believe that they remain invisible for at least 10 feet as they leave their car.  Many people, particularly heavyset ones do an inordinate amount of adjusting and retrieving undergarments from areas of anatomy that I’d rather not discuss too much.  I can’t imagine that they would do that if they knew that we could actually see them. 

This 10-foot “invisibility buffer” obviously is only effective when you are leaving your car.  I say this because these same people bounce up like a Superball if they slip and fall when they are returning to their car.  They may break their hip or leg, but they jump up and look around to see if anyone actually SAW them fall.  If you ask them if they are OK, they will invariably say, “Sure, I’m fine.”  They’ll say this even if they have bones protruding and are bleeding profusely.  

Yes Dwayne, you were right 30 years ago and you are right now, people are just funnier than anybody.   

Father's Day! Call or Write.....

The basics of this post was written for Father's Day in 2005.  I have brought it up to date, but the core of my feelings from then hasn't really changed.

Not long ago someone asked me what I was going to say about Father’s Day.  Although they could remember several things I had written about Mother’s Day, they said that they couldn’t remember me ever writing about Father’s Day.  I don’t think I ever have. 

Since my dad died when I was just over two, Father’s Day was not a big deal at the Davis house as I was growing up.  It just wasn’t. 

Until I was in my late teens, I thought the concept of fatherhood was overrated.  I thought, “Hey, I’ve never had a father and I am just fine.”  I finally began to get into and understand the traditions of Father’s Day after I married, since Deborah’s father was very much alive.  (This will be her first Father's Day without him.) 

After the birth of our daughters, all of a sudden, fatherhood became a serious responsibility.  I didn’t think that I had a good point of reference for what a father should do, how a father should act, or how a father should “be,”  but I was, of course, wrong.  I had all kinds of models to look back on and learn from.

My brother, Jim is 13 years older than me.  He taught me how to shoot a gun, ride a bicycle, change gears with a straight stick and a thousand other things that daddies traditionally do.  He did this in spite of the fact that I ran around his car with a rake and melted the buttons on his car radio with the car cigarette lighter.   

Uncle Freddie, (my Mother’s brother,) gave me a love for the smell of fresh sawdust.  He taught me how to drive a nail without bending it and how to saw a straight line with a handsaw.  He built a wagon for my goat (Carol) to pull.  He built a downhill racer (Nellybell) that I rode down the old clay hill near my house for years. 

Jack Towns (daddy Jack,) a neighbor and friend of the family from church, tried to teach me how to milk a cow and goat.  He also demonstrated how to slaughter chickens and turkeys for food.  I never got the hang of any of this, but that wasn’t his fault because he tried. 

J. B. Hobbs taught me about planting corn, squash, beans and tomatoes.  He let me ride with him on his tractor and in the back of his truck occasionally.  He built the first homemade butterbean sheller on Chicken Road.  

Hilton Perdue and his wife, Alice took me fishing and taught me how to bait a hook and clean fish.  He also took me to his daddy’s house so I could see him make cane syrup.  It was amazing to a little boy like me.  His cane mill was powered by a belt wrapped around the back wheel of his 1928 or 29 model-A Ford truck. (I’m not that old.  It was a really old truck even then.)

Kannah Belflower was a physically imposing but soft-spoken man in my church.  He always asked me about what was going on in my life and he always seemed to know when I needed an encouraging word.  I learned from him that kind words are appreciated by practically everyone and we should take the time to give them.

When I began to think about it, a lot of men, particularly from my home church, stepped in and gave of their time to do fatherly things with me and other kids that needed it.   Half of these men are long gone and I never even thought to tell them thanks for all that they did for me when I was growing up.  I should have, but just never did.  

If your father is still around, by all means spend some time with him this weekend and let him know how much you love and appreciate him.  It would also be nice to call or send a note to those other men that have gone out of their way to do fatherly things with you or someone else who needed it.  It will do you good to say it and you don’t know how much they might need to hear it.

The World in a Book

A couple of months ago when I was out of town, Encyclopedia Britannica announced that it was ceasing publication of their print edition after 244 years. I couldn’t help but think back to when we got our first encyclopedia at home. They were a 1961, or so edition of the World Book Encyclopedia. I was in heaven.

I remember saying something at school about looking things up in the World Book. One of my more affluent friends kind of sneered that he had the Encyclopedia Britannica. I remember thinking that it couldn’t possibly be any better than the World Book. Several years later, I was in the library and looked through a volume of the Britannica thinking, “I am glad I had my old trusty World Books instead of this. I could have never written all those reports at Dodge Elementary if I had to use this as a reference.” It may have been more scholarly that my trusty World Book, but at least I understood what I read in mine. Besides, Britannica was LEATHER BOUND. No one in my house would have let me touch a leather bound book of any kind until I was old enough to drive.

One of my best friends growing up had a set of grocery store encyclopedia (I don’t remember the name.) His Mom was buying them one volume at a time when she had the money and there was a featured volume available that they didn’t have. I assume that this is why he knew so little about topics, beginning with the letters J-K, N-O, and V-Z. Apparently, these volumes were never featured when there was extra cash in their household.

I really don’t remember the traveling salesman that sold the books to my mom. In fact, for all I know, we may have had a used set. I have no idea what that set cost my mother in the early 60’s. I am quite sure it was a lot of money to her, but he was willing to sacrifice so that her child could learn. They would be available to me at home, every day, all year long. It worked. From the day we first got them until I was grown, I remember going to the bookshelf to look up something and end up reading article after article. I do essentially the same thing today when I look up something on-line. It was my Google, Wikipedia, and CIA world fact book all rolled up and bound in cream and green fake leather with gold embossing on the cover.

I’m sure that the print encyclopedia business will soon be a thing of the past and all be gone shortly. Even though I have moved on and it has been years since I picked one up, I can’t help but be a little sad to see them go.

Grannies in a blanket

A few weeks ago, the leader of our church’s senior adult group, “Senior Friends” asked me about helping with a hayride for the group. He said, “My wife told me to ask for your help because if you helped, it would be fun; if I planned it by myself, it would be boring.”

I suspect that she may have suggested that he ask for my help, but I really doubt that she said anything about him planning a boring trip without me. He is a retiree who rides a motorcycle, for heaven’s sake. How could he be boring?

In any case, I gave him my thoughts and told him that I hoped they had a good time; I wouldn’t be there for it though.

The weekend before the hayride, he again asked me a few questions. I answered as best I could, but again wished him well and told him that I couldn’t (wouldn’t) be there.

A couple of days before the event, my wife casually mentioned that she had signed us up to bring soup to the “after the hayride” festivities. You could have heard a hay bale drop…… “Honey, didn’t I mention that I couldn’t be there?”

Well, as you can imagine, the night of the event was a beautiful, full moon-lit night, with temperatures hovering around a crisp 32° F. That’s cold enough that those who were actually crazy enough to get on the trailer wouldn’t admit to having been there.

They had borrowed a nice trailer from “Gully Branch” that was actually built for that purpose. It had a nice John Deere paint scheme and plenty of bench seating. It was even equipped with a slide out, walker-wide ramp so that the infirm (both of mind and body) could get on and off.

The way I heard it, the ride started with a bang. The driver pulled out with a trailer full of seniors, wrapped up in light jackets and a smattering of gloves, hats and blankets.

Living in the Deep South, I am not all that familiar with, nor have I ever had the need to understand, a wind chill chart. As best I can tell, with an ambient temperature of 32°F and a truck pulling a trailer at 35 MPH, frostbite is not a serious threat, but you would have a hard time convincing about 30 of my senior friends that it was not possible.

“Hey, Hey, Hey, Are you late for some appointment somewhere?” they shouted.
When the driver finally stopped, he asked, “Are you cold back there? I was only going 30-35!”

“We could fly a kite back here, if the wind-chill didn’t freeze and break the string!”

A whole nest of Grannies were all wrapped up in one blanket, shaking their heads.

After that, he held the speed down to 18-20, so the wind chill was only about 20°F. This made the next 100 yards, or so, NOT TOO BAD.

One couple was completely under their own blanket by the time they got to the next stop sign.

“What are you doing under that blanket, David?”

“Leave me alone, I’m smooching with my wife.”

“David, are you sure that that is Jan under there with you?”

“It’s too cold to come out and check, right now.”

By the time they got to the next stop sign, riders were saying, “Great, we can turn around here, and maybe we won’t all have pneumonia.”

It didn’t happen.

By this time, several folks were beginning to express concern that the driver and his wife were really missing all the fun that was happening on the trailer. At least 10 men volunteered to drive so that the driver and his wife could ride in the back where the “fun” was.

“This whole trip was their idea and they are missing all the fun.”
Really, this was a trailer full of caring, selfless people. (If I had been there, I might have cried.)

When a car pulled up behind the trailer, someone said, “Don’t look right at them. They might recognize us. We don’t want them to think that our church if full of idiots that would be out on a hayride on a night like tonight.”

Indeed.

They made it a full six miles before the threat of violence appeared, “turn around, get us back to the church and get us hot chocolate and no one gets hurt…”
Even though they were headed back, several were still not convinced that the driver was not lost. “Is he still looking for a place to turn around?”

“These are my best gloves and I still can’t feel my fingers.”

“Don’t touch my ears, they might fall off.”

And my personal favorite, “I can’t tell, is my nose running?”

This was an over 50 crowd, a group that, as a whole, is technology averse. I suspect that they will all have a better understanding of weather forecasting and wind chill before they get on a “Gully Branch” trailer at night again. The way I heard it, there were more than 30 “Senior Friends” out that night, but none would admit to actually being on that hay ride. I know that if I had been there, I probably wouldn’t admit it either.

Thanksgiving wishes

From Veteran’s Day until sometime in January when sheets and towels go on sale, life is really a blur at the Davis house. Probably yours too! Between dealing with leaves on the ground, decorating, shopping for gifts for your friends and loved ones, practicing for Christmas plays, Thanksgiving, office luncheons, church dinners and parties, and POSSIBLY watching just part of a football game or two, there doesn’t seem to be enough time to stop and smell the pumpkin pie.

In the middle of this blur, I think that it is important for us to stop and take a few minutes to think about what and who is important to us. Even more important, take the time to tell those special people that they important to you and how you appreciate them. Sending flowers after they’re gone will not be enough, trust me. It is much better to tell them while you are both living.

A friend once told me about a long-time friend of hers who had lost her husband. She took it very hard. It was almost a year before the two friends were able to talk about the loss. My friend asked, “What was the hardest part of losing your husband unexpectedly?”

She replied, “What I regret the most is the fact that the last time I saw him was when he left for work that morning he died, I was in such a hurry that I did not tell him I loved him. We always said ‘I love you’ each morning before he left. But that morning we were just too busy. I would give anything to be able to tell him that I love him, just one more time.”

Well, chances are that you will be around the very people that mean the most to you in the next few days. My challenge to you is to take just a few minutes to chat with each one and tell them how they are special to you. And if you love them, tell them! If they are not where you are, PICK UP THE PHONE!

Life expectancy is the longest it has ever been. But life is still too short to not take the time to smell the pumpkin pie, and laugh with family, and let them know what they mean to you. Besides, it’s Thanksgiving.

God told me to ask you…..

Yesterday we had our office Thanksgiving luncheon. The company furnishes the meat and drinks and the employees bring covered dishes. We have a couple of great folks that always volunteer to coordinate everything and pull it all together. They do a great job and it is always a hit.

The Thanksgiving menu discussion is always fun, especially if you have folks from different parts of the country. Do we have stuffing or dressing? (One participant insists that it is all dressing unless you dig it out of a turkey carcass.) Is it cornbread or bread in the dressing/stuffing; sweet potato or pumpkin pie? PEE-can or pe-CON pie? Is the turkey roasted, smoked or fried? (We actually had all three.)

When they finally settled on the menu and sent it out so we could volunteer for dishes, I decided to wait and see what was left on the list that no one wanted to bring. This is sometimes dangerous, at least for me. I could have ended up with a complicated dish and I would be stuck. Luckily, I was assigned to bring Cool Whip. I kinda felt like I had wimped out because there is not much effort or creativity in bringing cool whip, but what can you do?

On my way from home to work yesterday, I stopped by the trusty Piggly Wiggly to pick up my cool Whip. It was early, so I got a close parking place and there wasn’t even a line to check out.

As I walked out to my Jeep, a woman was getting out of her car halfway across the parking lot. She hollered across the parking lot, “Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“Don’t you want to buy a sweet potato pie?’

“You have pies?”

“I sure do!” and she proceeded to open the back door of her car, so I got into my Jeep and drove over beside her. She pulled out a big tray of warm, homemade 4-5” sweet potato pies.

“I was just over at the convenience store on the bypass. Those men on the bench out front said I should bring the rest of these to town.”

“They look good! How much are they?”

“Just $2 apiece.”

“I’ll take two.” I told her. “And how did you know I just bought Cool Whip?”
“I didn’t. God just told me to ask you if you wanted a sweet potato pie. What’s yo name, honey?”

After exchanging pies, money, names and pleasantries, I noticed the embroidery on her apron. It said Heavenly Pies.

Indeed.

Looking back, I should have given her a container of Cool Whip. I had two.