BOB'S NOT MY UNCLE

but Dick Tindall was....loved that guy. He was dark, handsome, loved to laugh, told great jokes, smoked Salem cigarettes for years, was in WWII, saw Patton once, met and married my Aunt Dorthea on a short stop through Fort Dix, brought her back down south, had four sons in whom he believed. As a young man he worked hard, drank hard, played hard and loved hard. He had a massive stroke in his early 30's , which left him partially paralyzed on one side and doctor's told him that he would never walk again. He was tougher and more determined than anyone could have imagined. He did walk, he raised a family and he out lived his parents and other four siblings. He passed away just within hours of his oldest son. They had a double funeral. If you've seen his youngest son Radford, who is an Elvis artist on Beale Street in Memphis, well then you've seen my uncle. Radford is the spitting image of his 'Pop and sang two of his favorite songs, My Way and Dixie at his funeral. Uncle Dick saw promise and ability in everyone and he was always proud to know you. Family meant everything to him. If you were kin then you were his heart. He loved to talk of the good times, and enjoyed telling us as kids about our family's history. He shared a memory once that has stuck with me and will become part of a story line. I miss you Uncle and I know wherever you are there's great laughter and much love.

RUNNING ALONG JUST FINE.

Last night Bill and I went to Rhodes College and met up with about 50 other members of the MRTC (Memphis Runners and Track Club)for the Budmile. Its just a nice get together to race between other members, make a few friends, and get a few tips from the others. Bill ran in the first heat coming in at about middle of the pack at 7:37 for a mile run. The last runner in that heat came in at 10:32 and since I knew I was much slower in my mile (14:30)I chose not to run. These guys might be quick on their feet but some of them would have forgotten what they were doing there by the time I finished. So I sat in the bleachers and did what I do best....encourage the bravehearts. Ya'll I clapped and hollered like a mad fan. The last heat was with runners making the mile in less than 5 minutes. Is true, everyone loves a winner so it was like a day at the horse races for these folks and some of them ran like thoroughbreds with nostrils flaring, jockeying for position on the inside track with glistening muscles. When it was all over there was time to talk to a few seasoned atheletes who assured me that before they ran all the umpteen marathons they too were a slow-go. One fellow, who runs the Boston marathon recalled that 10 years ago it was the fact that he couldn't run a half mile that got him seriously running. I guess nothing gives you motivation like humiliation.

I'm really proud of Bill, after all he's in his late 50's and has a walking route as a letter carrier and he still puts forth tremendous effort. He gets frustrated at times, when guys older than himself breeze past him but he uses it to keep himself going.

Did a lot of "self talk" as I sat on the bleachers waiting for the event to begin. Sure I wasn't in the same league as these folks when it came to times. If they had had a slower heat, I would have entered...maybe. But I would be damned if i'd give up. I had worked hard and it took a lot for me to get to where I am now. If I had gone to one of these runs a year ago I can only imagine how insecure I would have felt. I would have surely given in to the notion that an overweight woman in her 50's could only look foolish trying to learn to run. Funny thing today, when I think back about yesterday, it's the faces of the slower runners that I remember. I can't lose sight of the fact that everyone is in a race by themselves and with themselves. I will remember it is none of my business what other people think about my ability...it only matters what I think. If I think I can...then I can. Next year at the same race...no better yet, at the Mug mile, which runs two weeks sooner, this old mare is going to pony up to the red line and strut her stuff and if I'm dead last so what. It's crossing the finish line like everyone else that matters.

YOU DECIDE......

"WHEN SOME-THONG IS WRONG WITH MY BABY"

OR

"TANGLED UP IN BLUE"

What the hell is it?

"What the hell is it?".....remember that great skit from Saturday Night Live?

Steve Martin and Bill Murray started it and it went on for weeks with other guests.....

well that is what I thought of when I came upon my search engine Yahoo page this a.m.

Scientist are puzzled over some white material on some pics of Mars. Is it ice or salt?

I"ll put up the pic ..... you and I will decide what we think it is... okay?

Ooh, Ooh, before we split for cranial outer limits ........let me tell you all how much I enjoyed "blog jumping" this morning. Thank you BBC, for turning me on to so many interesting folks out there......okay now everyone strap on your aluminum hat shields so "They" can't read our thoughts....lol.

WHAT THE HELL IS IT?

1. Chicken feathers.

2. (your turn......

"What on earth is wrong with you?"

Well, there you have it......."Everything" including your eyes because they can't make out the small print below the main title. Let me help you with that, because I can't help but be nauseatingly helpful, sometimes I hate myself for that. It reads....." The modern woman's guide to finding self confidence through self loathing"

"It is a wonderfully relaxing summer read. My confidence soared while lounging kiddie-pool side staring over my enormous gut and wondering why I ever worried about looking like 15 pounds of crap in a 5 pound bag. ".......Mona Downtrodden, (twice screwed over for the position of) assistant to the co-editor of the classified section...Birmingham Bad Times.

DOG GONE IT..........

Just because I thought "we"(and we know who we are) could use a little encouragement here at the beginning of the dog days of summer, I leashed up (minus a few fleas) a post from last year to share. So lace up your favorie pair of "tennies"and lets get moving. It's a sure fire way to get rid of that "stinkin-thinking"

** No puppy was harmed in the making of this blog post**

Tuesday, March 6, 2007

How to do it?.......I'll show you how to walk the dog..

Ever have times when you tell yourself you are going to try to sqeeze in yet another "healthy habit" and so you set about mentally preparing yourself for it.
Example, you wake up at 5:00 a.m. and just for that moment you say to yourself.....hey, i'm alive.....why don't I get up and walk the dog. Then immediately alarms begin to ring in your brain and its like a switchboard of excuses lights up.....and you moan and roll over and say.....maybe tomorrow would be a better time. The switchboard goes dead and your internal receptionist jots down yet another message from an unanswered call for change........well, yesterday morning about 10:00 a.m, while I was deep in my "mental office" wondering why my productivity was down, feeling trapped in the same old s___t just different day....the same said receptionist stormed in my office and proceeded to dump a whole trash can loaded with these calls in my lap......said she's had it with my not complying with company policy and told me to get myself another thought cause she was on to me..........so, today when the alarm went off.......after a stiffled moan.......I stumbled around the bedroom, circled the kitchen twice and peeked out the den door and there sat my dog grinning from ear to ear.....now, how she does that with out caffeine is really something.....but at 5:23 she and I were heading down the driveway and she made the executive decision to go left, which was fine with me. By the time we got to the end of the street, my receptionist called to say....."See I told you it wasn't all that bad, all you had to do was get going." She was right, once again and agreed to take her job back if she was given a raise, a bonus and a weeks vacation in the mountains.
So what does this have to do with you?.......maybe everything.....you decide and if there is a call that you have put off answering because you've been busy with the
same ole tired excuses..........give that nagging voice of change...a chance to change you. I promise it's better than a raise, a bonus or a weeks vacation in the mountains.

NO GAS NECESSARY

"EVERYWHERE IS WALKING DISTANCE IF YOU HAVE THE TIME"

STEVEN WRIGHT

HISTORY IN THE MAKING

It was over dinner at Soul Fish last night that Bill and I witnessed history in the making, what with the CNN news coming across the bar tv in the corner announcing that Barry Obama had beat out Hillary Clinton. We discussed who he would possibly get as a running mate and why.
Across the isle from us, our waitress seated a father and son, approximately 60 and 20 years old respectively. I was surprised and relieved that Bill had also noticed how uncomfortable they seemed being with each other. Surprised because it's usually me who makes a comment on my perceptions of strangers and relieved because he expressed that he obviously wasn't the only "old guy" who can't get more than a one word answer out of a son. I found myself eavesdropping on their conversation as I savoredmy husband and our time together. The new arrivals seemed to relaxed a bit after a few bites of food. I went into information gathering mode. The young man was home from college for the summer and he was having a little difficulty adjusting to as he put it "the Memphis state of mind". Besides the fact that this young man was the spitting image of my nephew Cody, I couldn't help but steal glances as I studied his eyes and face while he was swinging a comment to his dad and waiting to see if he had found a comfortable rhythm for them to double dutch their conversation.

Bill smiled at me and repeated his question about my day, I had been caught giving him the
Huh? expression and so had to step up my own game of staying in the moment of "our lives" and yet trying to steal a glimpse into the private lives of others. Their had been a time when I would have gotten the cold shoulder from my mate, but over the years as I witnessed just moments before, he too had become skilled at people watching. After answering his question, he decided to take advantage of my nosiness and asked, "He's older than Kyle don't you think?" which I immediately interpreted as"Don't sit there woman!, what do you think is going on?"

I turned my head to the wall beside me and pretending to study a painting I dished out my findings. "Oh, he's atleast 20, he's home from school, and he's already mentioned how he must be maturing, because he compared himself with one of his friends"(insert confused look on my husband's face , which reads....Damn! how do you do it?). I smile and thank the waitress who has brought our dinner and as Bill gets up to go wash his hands, I sip my beer pretending to catch the latest analysis of the political situation all the while wanting to poke dear old daddy there and clue him in (Hey man, are you getting this? Junior here is prepping you for something with all this "I must becoming mature dad" jazz.....strap yourself in buddy he's about to lower the boom) Well, a few more comments about how great a couple of his professors thought he was last semester and batta bing....he brushed hair from his eyes, squared an ivy league jaw and let it fly...."Yeah Dad, I was thinking that after this summer here at home, I really don't want to return to Memphis. I'm planning on remaining in Boston for good."

As a parent, I prepared to offer aid to the wounded in the form of hugs and a stiff drink and at the very least was ready to catch daddy dear when he fell backwards from his chair.

Bill's return broke more than just our silence. I waited for the Boston strangler, who suddenly became very animated telling locker room jokes, to get loud enough so as not to be heard before giving the crime details.

"Oh, how did that go over?" Bill sounds very empathetic while wiping barbeque sauce from his moustache. I just sigh and tip my head in their direction.( see for yourself dear)

I suppose the possibility of permanent silence was harder on the old guys heart than the news that his son was not interested in coming back home, so he began to tell a few jokes of his own and recounted a crazy old professor that he had once. ( Ah, that's it buddy, never let em see you sweat, this is just the primary......you've still got lots of time)

Reminded that nothing ever stays the same, we talk about our own kids, and make a date for our next evening out together.

Kids grow up, they leave and its all part of life. Just like politics we might not feel comfortable with all the changes that come but its all history in the making.

ANOTHER 3RD OF JUNE

For 41 years on the 3rd of June I have found myself humming this song. It came out in 1967 the year I turned 12. Biographies now state it was a # 1 hit for a month, but southerners know it remained a hit for a lot longer. We could all relate to the names and towns in the song as well as the lifestyle. That sad song's beat was as familiaras the whirl of an attic fan, the sound of your own screen door, and your mama's Sunday chicken. It pulled us all in a little closer to our roots and to the mysterys of life in the rural south. Leave me a note if you'd like and tell me if you remember this song.

Ode To Billie Joe
( Bobbie Gentry )

It was the third of June, another sleepy, dusty Delta day

I was out choppin' cotton and my brother was balin' hay

And at dinner time we stopped and walked back to the house to eat

And Mama hollered out the back door "y'all remember to wipe your feet"

And then she said "I got some news this mornin' from Choctaw Ridge"

"Today Billy Joe MacAllister jumped off the Tallahatchie Bridge"

And Papa said to Mama as he passed around the blackeyed peas

"Well, Billy Joe never had a lick of sense, pass the biscuits, please"

"There's five more acres in the lower forty I've got to plow"

And Mama said it was shame about Billy Joe, anyhow

Seems like nothin' ever comes to no good up on Choctaw Ridge

And now Billy Joe MacAllister's jumped off the Tallahatchie Bridge

And Brother said he recollected when he and Tom and Billie Joe

Put a frog down my back at the Carroll County picture show

And wasn't I talkin' to him after church last Sunday night?"

I'll have another piece of apple pie, you know it don't seem right"

"I saw him at the sawmill yesterday on Choctaw Ridge"

"And now you tell me Billie Joe's jumped off the Tallahatchie Bridge"

And Mama said to me "Child, what's happened to your appetite?"

"I've been cookin' all morning and you haven't touched a single bite"

"That nice young preacher, Brother Taylor, dropped by today"

"Said he'd be pleased to have dinner on Sunday, oh, by the way"

"He said he saw a girl that looked a lot like you up on Choctaw Ridge"

"And she and Billy Joe was throwing somethin' off the Tallahatchie Bridge"

A year has come 'n' gone since we heard the news 'bout Billy Joe

And Brother married Becky Thompson, they bought a store in Tupelo

There was a virus going 'round, Papa caught it and he died last Spring

And now Mama doesn't seem to wanna do much of anything

And me, I spend a lot of time pickin' flowers up on Choctaw Ridge

And drop them into the muddy water off the Tallahatchie Bridge