How to Join Member's Area Private Library Search Today's Topics p Login
Main Forums Discussion Tech Talk Mature Content Archives
   Nav Win
 Discussion
 pipTalk Lounge
 serenity's interactive journal   [ Page: 1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20  21  22  23  24  25  26  27  28  29  30  31  32  33  34  35  36  37  38  39  40  41  42  43  44  ]
 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174
Follow us on Facebook

 Moderated by: Ron   (Admins )

 
User Options
Format for Better Printing EMail to a Friend Not Available
Admin Print Send ECard
Passions in Poetry

serenity's interactive journal

  Post New Topic   Go to the Next Oldest/Previous Topic Return to Topic Page Go to the Next Newest Topic 
Nightshade
Deputy Moderator 5 ToursDeputy Moderator 1 TourDeputy Moderator 1 TourDeputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Laureate
since 08-31-2001
Posts 14673
just out of reach


150 posted 03-09-2004 02:28 PM       View Profile for Nightshade   Email Nightshade   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Nightshade's Home Page   View IP for Nightshade

I'm listening too.  


Enchantress
Member Empyrean
since 08-14-2001
Posts 37801
Somewhere in time~


151 posted 03-09-2004 03:42 PM       View Profile for Enchantress   Email Enchantress   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Enchantress

I'm here as well..listening, reading and learning.

You can really see how childhood and young adulthood shapes a person's personality, how they see things, and the way they go on through life and so on...

I see how a few of us here turned out to be real 'people pleasers'.

You sure jogged a few memories Chris.
I don't think it bothered me as much as you to be up there performing at such a young age.  (I know how proud mom and dad were)
I also learned what stagefright felt like very early on, but, all in all..I really enjoyed what we achieved.

(But, you were younger than the age of reason..which is 7 right?)

And, here I was thinking I was born with this smile on my face!

serenity blaze
Member Empyrean
since 02-02-2000
Posts 28839


152 posted 03-09-2004 04:25 PM       View Profile for serenity blaze   Email serenity blaze   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for serenity blaze

psssssssssssssst

more stories, more stories, more stories...

purdy please?

Sunshine
Administrator
Member Caelestus
since 06-25-99
Posts 67715
Listening to every heart


153 posted 03-09-2004 04:29 PM       View Profile for Sunshine   Email Sunshine   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Sunshine's Home Page   View IP for Sunshine

Sure, Serene one, I'd love to hear another story from you...
Sunshine
Administrator
Member Caelestus
since 06-25-99
Posts 67715
Listening to every heart


154 posted 03-09-2004 05:23 PM       View Profile for Sunshine   Email Sunshine   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Sunshine's Home Page   View IP for Sunshine


“Magic”

Bear in mind, I was four when it started.  I knew how to tie my shoes, count as high as they had time to listen, and had read all of the children’s books that mom and dad’s pocketbook could afford.  So when they reverted to a comic book now and then…I took those into the bathroom.  Didn’t believe in wasting time.  I had a fairly good grasp of the English language and [as grandmother said] impeccable manners.

My birthday, being in the “middle” of the school year, so to speak, didn’t fall under the “rules” since impinged on anyone capable of school, in being kept back until they were of “an older age”.  So I was thrown in with the five year olds, all three to nine months my senior.  As far as education goes, I was with them all the way.  As far as social events and occasions…therein stood my demons.

The first “demon” to encounter was Truth.  Today, there’s too much television about who is playing whom around certain holidays, even as parents strive to keep “some” magic in their children’s lives for as long as they can, certainly, around the holidays.

And it all seemed to crash in at once.  Mom coming in with the tooth fairy’s dime.  Dad disappearing when the reindeer bells started.  [Dad got smarter after that, and talked to a neighbor who became Rudolf…]  But it was just after my sister was born, and I was eight, that the kids at school were making fun of me because I was so looking forward to Christmas, and Santa seeing my new sister this year.

Oh, the taunts.  All of my “peers”, peering at me, pointing fingers, and laughing at the skinny little kid in saddle shoes, the one over there wearing braids, who believes in, get this, SANTA!

Needless to say, Mom and I had a long, private talk that night.  But she warmly took me into the adult circle of magic, saying “how unfortunate it would be to ruin Christmas for your brother.  And you, you will have lots of time to pretend to believe, as I see you don’t any longer, for you will want your sister’s eyes to shine, like yours once did.  Right?”

Oh yes!  Oh yes!  But my eyes?  They couldn’t shine anymore?  They shined, once upon a time?  I didn’t know that!  And now I would have to pretend to make them shine?  Oh, the weight of being eight.

I did really well for two years.  Really well.  My little sister grew up believing that Santa was very real, and very jolly, and I, being an adult, helped dispose of the cookies before going to bed.  Sissie had gone to bed HOURS ago [well, at least 30 minutes ago.]  So I was ten, and my brother, now eight, well, he found out that year, too, and he wasn’t keeping the magic so well, at least, not in my eyes.  Had to have a talk or two with him, I did.

So, I’m not sure if it was for my brother, or for me, that Mom and Dad arranged for another helper.  This one, however, came in full gear, all the way down to the rotund tummy, and beautiful whiskers, and a gift for each of us.  But for me…and I knew this was magic because NO one knew it [so it must be Santa for real, right?  Those silly school kids in my class didn’t know nothing!]  My gift from Santa that year…was a diary.

A white diary, with gold letters slanted upwards, and a key.  A little brass key on a red silk thread.

The promises it held.

That night I wrote… “Magic is as real, as the heart desires it to be”.

And to this day, I know for a fact that my eyes shine at Christmas.  The lump in my throat tells me so.
serenity blaze
Member Empyrean
since 02-02-2000
Posts 28839


155 posted 03-09-2004 06:09 PM       View Profile for serenity blaze   Email serenity blaze   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for serenity blaze

Nodding here.

When my kids started school, I figured that magic was over for us too.

But they never mentioned the subject of Santa, so neither did I, and we continued our traditions at home. This went on until they were almost ten years old. (They are so close in age that we just do things collectively around here.) But as I started moving slower, they decided that I didn't have to go through all of that, so we had a little sit-down. (I really rock at playing "Santa".) They told me then, that they knew I was Santa. When I asked them why they continued pretending, their answer touched me so that I cried:

They didn't want to hurt my feelings.

Yep. The kids are great.

The best thing I've ever done.

Kari.

Thanks for that reminder, you.
vlraynes
Member Rara Avis
since 07-25-2000
Posts 9136
Somewhere... out there...


156 posted 03-09-2004 06:36 PM       View Profile for vlraynes   Email vlraynes   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit vlraynes's Home Page   View IP for vlraynes


Gawd, I'm loving these stories... smile...

I'm amazed by how much detail you all seem to remember from when you were young... For me?... much of it is a blur... I remember 'times'... and on going 'situations'... but as far as details of specific events?... not so much...LOL...

I think there is much that I'd rather not remember the details of... but as I read these stories?... I find myself trying... really trying...to remember...partly just for me...and partly because?...it's hard to tell an interesting story without details... grin...

I AM trying...smile...and thanks to all of you for the encouragement... It means much...
Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 09-21-1999
Posts 28608
California


157 posted 03-09-2004 09:47 PM       View Profile for Martie   Email Martie   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Martie's Home Page   View IP for Martie

I'm reading these too!  Sometimes with a smile or goosebumps or misty eyes...I'm trying to think of a few, like Vicky.  Love you guys!!  Thank you for sharing so much!
Sunshine
Administrator
Member Caelestus
since 06-25-99
Posts 67715
Listening to every heart


158 posted 03-09-2004 11:16 PM       View Profile for Sunshine   Email Sunshine   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Sunshine's Home Page   View IP for Sunshine


[Serenity, I swear, I am highjacking your thread, and finding a home...]

quote:
misty eyes


I cannot sing the “Star Spangled Banner” or say the “Pledge of Allegiance” without misty eyes.  Can’t be done.  Can’t even sing “Amazing Grace” without misty eyes.  There’s this huge lump that grows in my throat, as I am taken by visitors back through decades and centuries to the time that men and women knew what they were fighting for.  Oh, yes, there were dissenters; people who wanted to live in peace, people who only wanted to grow their crops, and feed their people.  People who wanted, oh, so much, to live in quiet, non-combative times.  But when it counted?  They protected their country, rightfully so.

It was not a game.  But, our country never was about a game.  At least, not like it has been made to seem in the last two decades.

I cannot help but think, whether I am there with them, or here with you, that our times really haven’t changed, except for the “games” part of it.  When we were young, you and you, and you [and not anyone 30 or younger who MAY be reading this…] there was no VIRTUAL reality. It was ALL quite real.  Yes, oh yes, we had our “immortal” thoughts.  We could and would live forever, because, after all, we are smart, and smarter than our parents, haven’t they groomed us for just this very spot?  Why, we are invincible.

They just never told us, they once thought they were, too…

I look back.  The woman who bore the man I am married to has lived through, count them….WWI, WWII, the Korean War, the VietNam War, The Gulf War, the recent attack on her own country, and the current watch of her time to see that more young men come home, than are lost to time.  Since 1908, she has seen things that H. G. Wells was only dreaming of.  When once people traveled by buggy a mile or more to get to the next neighbor, she now has a little button she can push for on-line assistance if she falls, and the assistance comes from states away, to a local EMS near her.

Ah, you should hear her colloquialisms.  They are...in a word, magnifique!  “You’ve got to watch the front and the back of them!”  “His ideas are worse than a fart in a lamp!”  And those are only just two.  She says them so often, and has so many, I take them as daily admonitions and none come quickly to mind…maybe later, for she is good for more than one story, or two…and I must take a recorder, I must, to catch the good ones.  She says them so fast, they hit home so well….should I say, make sense…that they don’t even settle in as “something good to note”.  They just hit home and heart as she says “that’s the way it is”…or “that’s the way it goes”…

But she’s full of them.

I digressed.  Aren’t interactive journals, especially others, wonderful?  

Up above, I spoke of visitors.  I have these slippets [my word, Webster hasn’t caught up] of time.  My mind is here, and there, and I am feeling poems and thoughts and seeing visions that I know no one to my right or left is seeing.  The voices that told me I didn’t belong in California tell me that I need to continue to walk and see and absorb, and write.  I will know when it is the correct time to lay down my thoughts and I will know when it is not.  I try to push it now and then, and the failures are there, or here, I should say, for all to see.  For Ron has given me a wonderful place to just let it all “allow and be”, and do you all know how many times I thought Oh Lord….

Yes, you have.  “What was she thinking?”  And then you reflected, and pondered, and thought, well, it’s not her night, and were kind, and good, and lifted me anyway.  Even when I thought “this is the worst”…sometimes, it seemed, the best.  I can never tell, because I cannot be objective of me, only subjective, undertaking my own “demons” [see them again?] that I wasn’t as perfect as I should be, but wrote not for me as much as for you!

My nicknames have entitled me such pseudonyms as “Pollyanna”; ”Stringbean” [only you have to go back many years”]; SaraLee [to rhyme with my name…also going back several years]; Sissie; Dear Heart; Little Girl; Jungel Woman; and of course the always ignoble “hey you”.

I have no middle name.  My one and only given name is Karilea.  [Yes, it rhymes with SaraLee]  My mother made it up, so there is no “designated” knowing of what my name might mean.

Thirty plus years ago, a nurse in a doctor’s office was given the responsibility/privilege/honor of naming her first grandchild.  The grandchild was a girl.

I met that little girl about six years later.

Her name….

Was Karilea.  With a middle name.  Sue.

It was AFTER that, that Johnnie came out with his song.

And I had a chuckle.  And misty eyes.
serenity blaze
Member Empyrean
since 02-02-2000
Posts 28839


159 posted 03-10-2004 12:23 AM       View Profile for serenity blaze   Email serenity blaze   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for serenity blaze

Oh how odd. My mother-in-law just phoned a little while ago. She has some choice colloquialisms too--and as soon as I can figure out how to do this delicately, I will introduce you all to her. She's somethin' else.

And Martie, I almost wrote to invite you to join in, as I know you have some stories to share too. And yes, Chris and Nancy--I can't wait to hear from the both of you too. Vicky? We'll have you dancing naked in the rain yet as well!

This has turned into more than had I hoped, and it's because of everybody sharing that it became special. So please don't feel like you're hijacking "my" thread--when I want the spotlight back, I'll just shove ya out of it--no problem.

So many of us, consider this Ron's home, and if I may extend the analogy, let's just say I'm out back on the patio, chain-smoking cigs, pouring the wine, and swapping stories.

You are all welcome.

And yep, I'm convinced there's a few men peeking in here from time to time--fingering the lingerie hanging damp in the bathroom and wondering if they are welcome too.

(You are.)

There's something healing that happens when you share a story in this way. I cringe a bit when people call it courageous to admit a drug problem or other failing, because it's not about courage to me. It's just owning up to what is, and being able to say "that's what happened" and somehow, being able to say that to potentially the entire world takes the power of shame away from the mistakes. Of course, feel free to share whatever you're comfortable with, but if I can claim a small piece of Ron's home as "my thread" then I'm here to proclaim it a "judgement-free" zone.(within Ron's guidelines of course )

So yes, ya'll come sit down and be bold with us.

and um, Guys? You too. I happen to have the record for male attendance at a tupperware party too. But...twinkling eyes--that's another story.

Hugs all.

Keep feeding serenity.


Sunshine
Administrator
Member Caelestus
since 06-25-99
Posts 67715
Listening to every heart


160 posted 03-10-2004 08:39 AM       View Profile for Sunshine   Email Sunshine   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Sunshine's Home Page   View IP for Sunshine


I'm going to shut up for a little while...
Nightshade
Deputy Moderator 5 ToursDeputy Moderator 1 TourDeputy Moderator 1 TourDeputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Laureate
since 08-31-2001
Posts 14673
just out of reach


161 posted 03-10-2004 10:26 AM       View Profile for Nightshade   Email Nightshade   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Nightshade's Home Page   View IP for Nightshade

Bless you Karen.
If my head weren't so clogged up from this cold, maybe I could tell a terrific, true story. Maybe not.
  But, everytime I am feeling ill and/or depressed I think of a french woman I met my last visit to the "breakdown ranch."
  I really believe that we are here to help heal each other's wounds.
  The first time I saw her they had her tied in a wheel chair, her long dark hair all over and matted to her face. A face distorted and covered in whatever they had been trying to feed her. I didn't want to look or listen to her ramblings in a foreign tongue. I just wanted to sleep and get strong again. The breakdown had zapped me big time.
   In a couple of days the womans medication kicked in and she was speaking english and wanting her "smokes." I still didn't trust her.....she frightened me. Afterall, she was classed as manic-depressant, and oh, what stories I had heard about "them." Anyway, probably the big man upstairs was upset with my judgemental way of thinking, so the next thing I knew .... "Chris, you are getting a roommate." Yep..."she" was gonna bunk with me!! I was soooooo scared.
   All I could think of to do was....hum! Show tunes. Ya. that's good...hum show tunes. I stood as straight as I could looking out the meshed-in windows and hummed something from South Pacific. It happened to be that little french tune that the handsome leading man sings to and with his children. NancyLee you know the one. Anyway,from behind me comes "that woman" with her bag of belongings and starts singing the words to my humble hum. I breathed.
  Turns out that woman....Denise.....had once been a college English teacher. Very well educated and just a hoot to be around. I did not know that if she slipped up with her meds, she turned into "that woman" I had first seen when I was admitted. She loved to call me by my whole first name, Chrislane. She brushed her hair up into a lovely bun, dressed to the nines in a place that didn't care what you were wearing. And she taught me a lesson of life and acceptance. I think of her often and wonder how she is doing. Well I hope.  Judge not.
Sunshine
Administrator
Member Caelestus
since 06-25-99
Posts 67715
Listening to every heart


162 posted 03-10-2004 10:46 AM       View Profile for Sunshine   Email Sunshine   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Sunshine's Home Page   View IP for Sunshine


Oh Chris!  What a lovely bit of reminisce!  I love it, and I love you for finding the strength to share it!
Enchantress
Member Empyrean
since 08-14-2001
Posts 37801
Somewhere in time~


163 posted 03-10-2004 01:16 PM       View Profile for Enchantress   Email Enchantress   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Enchantress

Yanno..this is just like a good old fashioned pyjama party!

I'm just trying to think of a story I can tell here...(hoping my sister will jog my memory)

Pour me a glass of dry red wine please Serenity..it just may stir up some wicked..er, I mean interesting memories.

I have to go out for a bit..but I will be back.

And Ser?

I happen to know the guys ARE reading his!
Nightshade
Deputy Moderator 5 ToursDeputy Moderator 1 TourDeputy Moderator 1 TourDeputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Laureate
since 08-31-2001
Posts 14673
just out of reach


164 posted 03-10-2004 01:43 PM       View Profile for Nightshade   Email Nightshade   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Nightshade's Home Page   View IP for Nightshade

...and she knows cause she's the one who performed the tricks
...I just looked cute!
serenity blaze
Member Empyrean
since 02-02-2000
Posts 28839


165 posted 03-10-2004 01:45 PM       View Profile for serenity blaze   Email serenity blaze   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for serenity blaze

Okay. I'm back. I brought more wine too.



And Sunshine? I know you'll be back.

And Enchantress--YES--a slumber party! And if those guys are peeking in the windows, I say let's give 'em a show!



For now tho, I'll go curl up with some coffee and my notebook--you guys just have to meet my shorthand teacher.

sigh.

Her name was Mrs. Quick.

(shaking my head--I know, I know.)

But if I could make this stuff up, I'd be rich...



(And where is Janet Marie??? I know she has a story or two--Susan Caldwell? I want to hear about bootcamp! Martie? You've got an entire novel in that first husband of yours...chuckle. Mysteria--PdV? You two are hiding some gems as well. And just where the hell is Nan?

(C'mon, ladies, I bought LOTSA wine!!!)

Sunshine
Administrator
Member Caelestus
since 06-25-99
Posts 67715
Listening to every heart


166 posted 03-10-2004 01:53 PM       View Profile for Sunshine   Email Sunshine   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Sunshine's Home Page   View IP for Sunshine

White Zin?

Ymmmm

I'll be back.  And with, not without.

As for the boys, I just imagine them, snorting into their hands as they hide back the chuckles, thinking they're so clever as to sit outside the bedroom window during our pajama party/kaffee klatche/tea party...

but somehow?  It's going to enlighten a few of them, and as for the others that just shake their head and say huh?  They're not truly dreamers...
vlraynes
Member Rara Avis
since 07-25-2000
Posts 9136
Somewhere... out there...


167 posted 03-10-2004 02:11 PM       View Profile for vlraynes   Email vlraynes   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit vlraynes's Home Page   View IP for vlraynes

As I read these stories of various people who have touched each of you, many people have drifted through my mind... but there is one who doesn't just 'drift'... she is always with me... is a part of me... my grandma... or as we called her, 'Mamaw'...

So much of who I am and what I enjoy can be attributed to her influence and the time she and I spent together.  Yahtzee is still one of my favorite games (more on that later)... there is still something about poker chips that makes me want to touch them...hold them in my hands... No...I never once saw her playing poker (that I recall)...but the chips, neatly sorted in their revolving holder, were always there when I'd go to visit her and my grandpa (Dado), and I couldn't resist sitting on the floor and just playing with them...stacking and re-stacking...mixing and sorting... I can't explain the fascination I had with them...it just WAS.  Sometimes I wanted some variety, so I'd break out the Hi-Q...another game I still enjoy.

The best times, though, were when I spent one-on-one time with Mamaw...

I was a tomboy; and unlike most of the other adults in my life, she seemed to understand and even appreciate that...  maybe because she was one too.  My grandma wasn't a 'girly' girl.  She wore blue jeans and flannels...sometimes cowboy boots...and I still have a Calamity Jane style jacket that belonged to her...  You know the kind...natural looking leather, with the long fringe all over it?... I LOVE that jacket...  It was one of the only things that I got of hers, after she died, and I remember I used to wear it to school all the time...  People laughed at me, but I didn't care.  They laughed at me no matter what I wore, and it was my grandma's jacket and I was proud to wear it..and besides...Calamity Jane was a tomboy too, so the jacket really was ME.  Some of you might recall the song, by Barbara Mandrell..."I Was Country When Country Wasn't Cool"...well that was me... I was far from a 'cool' kid back then...

Mamaw and Dado lived in a small house (actually a trailer, but with a built-on room), on the edge of Phoenix.  As I recall, there weren't a lot of neighbors close-by, but instead there was a lot of open space.  

A few hundred yards from their house was a commercial greenhouse.  I remember walking to the greenhouse, with my grandma.  We went in and looked at the many plants and flowers (I can probably thank her for my early appreciation of plants as well)...but the thing I remember the most about that walk to the greenhouse?...was the walk back...  

I had a fascination with insects then...I loved to catch them.  Well, the field we were walking through was overrun with grasshoppers, and Mamaw, being supportive of my tomboy tendencies, waited patiently as I caught grasshopper after grasshopper and placed them in a jar for safe-keeping.  I have no idea where the jar came from...  Could be that we had discussed the grasshoppers prior to our walk, but I don't recall the conversation.  All I know is that I was in tomboy heaven out there...with my grandma...my hero...watching and smiling at me...

That was just one of so many times with her, that stand out in my mind...simple times, that made such a huge impact on me...

She and my grandpa used to fish a lot, and my grandpa would often invite my younger brother to go along.  Well, my brother was a 'homebody' as we called him, and always preferred to stay home and play with his hot wheels and G.I. Joe's, so much to my grandpa's dismay, he just wasn't interested.

Not once do I ever remember Dado inviting me to go with them.  It was common knowledge in our family, that my grandpa didn't much like girls.  He even referred to my brother and I, and all of our cousins (mostly girls) as 'the boys'...  Now don't misunderstand... he was a kind man and I never felt 'unloved' by him... but I did realize, at a young age, that he would have much preferred to spend time with my brother than with me.

Fortunately for me, my grandma didn't feel the same way.  She knew and understood my desire to go with them on their trips, and when my brother would turn them down, she would invite me.  Of course, I always jumped at the chance to spend time with her...so I'd go... and thus began my life-long love of fishing.

I remember, it didn't even matter if I caught anything.  Of course, it was a bonus if I did, but I was just loving spending quality time with my grandma... and yes... my grandpa was there too, but I don't recall him really interacting much with me on those trips.  It was my grandma who taught me how to bait a hook, cast a line, reel it in... how to watch the 'bobber' for movement... etc... I often think of my grandma when I'm fishing...or even just sitting by a lake or stream... Though I loved fishing, the fact that I was with HER was what made it so memorable.

Mamaw made EVERYTHING fun...

For several years, she and my grandpa held seasonal jobs at Castle Hot Springs, an upscale, yet casual (does that make sense?) resort, hidden in the mountains, just outside of Phoenix.

I recall, one summer...I think I was maybe 10 at the time... my grandma invited me to spend some time at the resort with them.  I don't recall exactly how long I was there... maybe 2 or 3 weeks...but it felt like an eternity in heaven

My grandma was the Head of Housekeeping there, and I remember feeling 'important' just being there with her.  She was well-liked and people treated her with respect, and when she would introduce me, I felt special... I was so proud to be her grand-daughter.

During that 'eternity', my grandma and I were basically inseperable.  She took me everywhere with her.  I remember checking on the rooms with her, to see that everything was being taken care of...and I recall one time, an elderly lady...a guest...was having trouble getting dressed.  She was obviously confused, and had put her bra on outside of her blouse.  I will never forget my grandma... so patient with her... explaining it to her, and helping her get properly dressed.  She helped her without stealing her dignity...and that had a huge impact on me, even then.

In addition to checking up on the housekeepers, a portion of each day was spent down by the hot springs.  The springs were/are natural springs, making up two pools of water.  One was the 'warm' pool where most people would relax.  The other was the 'hot' pool...and it WAS hot.  Many people came to the resort, simply to 'get away from it all' and relax, but many others came there for the 'therapy' that the hot pools provided...and many of the guests would return each summer, so it was almost like a 'family' there.  

I loved the springs, but I remember not being allowed to stay in for very long at a time.  Even the more moderate of the two pools had a time limit.  Of course, I always felt I could stay in there forever, but I never argued with my grandma... when she spoke?...I listened.

Right next to the springs was...I want to call it a 'towel house'..but I don't really remember what it was called.  All I remember is that my grandma was in charge of THAT too.  She didn't have a lot to do there, though...or maybe that was just my childish perception... but we would spend much of our time, sitting in one of the rooms of the 'towel house', and there is where I learned to play Yahtzee.  We would play for hours, and she would teach me the fine points of 'strategy'.  Every little while, she would have to go check on the pools, enforce time limits and offer towels to the guests, but I always knew she would be right back and we would pick up our game where we had left off...

Another highlight of that summer was the horses.  My grandma not only knew of, but shared my love for horses.  I wonder if perhaps that love was also inspired by her, since I can't recall anyone else in my life who shared the appreciation.  

Regardless, she knew...and she understood...and Castle Hot Springs just happened to have horses available for guests...and so...my grandma took me riding.  I had ridden a little bit before that, but mostly pony rides and a short ride on a friend's mule.  I don't recall a 'real' horseback ride, prior to that one with my grandma.  So, we took off up the little dirt road that lead from the stables, and I was absolutely loving it...and then... my horse spooked!  There was a yellow sign by the road.  I don't recall what it said, and I don't think the horse really cared what it said.  He just didn't much like the color, and without warning, he reared up.  To this day, I don't know how I managed it..but I stayed on him.  I think, had I been with anyone but Mamaw, I wouldn't have stayed so calm...but, somehow I just knew that I'd be okay.  I always felt safe with her.  She explained, to me, why the horse had been spooked, and made sure I was okay, and we continued our ride.  After that, I couldn't get enough of riding, and for the next several years, I drove my parents crazy begging for a horse.

My grandma played such a huge part in shaping my life... but I never felt like she was choosing my life for me.  I respected her immensely, and even at a young age, I felt that she respected me too...

My grandma died suddenly, when I was just 12 years old.  I'll never forget that day.  She was always so active and had been mowing the yard, just before she died.  She started feeling sick to her stomach, and came in to lie down.  My grandpa went to the store to get something for her, and when he came back?...she was already gone.  She was 51 years young...

I remember being in shock, when my mom told me.  I couldn't believe that she had died... and I will never forget the day of her funeral.  That was the first time I ever saw my dad cry...

I don't recall crying 'in public' after she died...by that time, I had learned to keep 'real' emotions to myself, so I hung on to her memory tightly...yet no one knew...

I still miss my grandma immensely, and often feel her with me.  I have even 'seen' her from time to time, though I have never told anyone...until now...  They wouldn't understand.  How could they?...they never even knew how much she meant to me or how much of an impact her life...and death... had on me.  I certainly couldn't expect them to understand my 'sightings'...and besides... I was raised in family that wasn't 'open' to those things, so I couldn't tell them...they would have downplayed it...and I wasn't going to have them downplay my grandma....no way...

To this day, no one in my family really knows the impact that she had on me in those young years...  They still don't know how it crushed me when she died... how much emotion I bottled after that... and they likely never will...

I often wonder what our relationship would be like, were she still alive.  I think we would still be close...the best of friends.  She knew me and understood me like no one else...

I miss her...
Sunshine
Administrator
Member Caelestus
since 06-25-99
Posts 67715
Listening to every heart


168 posted 03-10-2004 02:20 PM       View Profile for Sunshine   Email Sunshine   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Sunshine's Home Page   View IP for Sunshine

Okay Vicky girl, if you're going to tell the stories like this, you're going to have to issue a hanky alert.  Good gosh, get you going and we've got prime rib for supper...

it's a good thing Serenity brought the wine....

This whole blooming thread is turning into one heck of a
Sunshine
Administrator
Member Caelestus
since 06-25-99
Posts 67715
Listening to every heart


169 posted 03-10-2004 02:28 PM       View Profile for Sunshine   Email Sunshine   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Sunshine's Home Page   View IP for Sunshine

Teachers….somehow, teachers came to mind.  Seed was probably planted by Mrs. Quick…

Miss Pendleton was a very tall woman who decided to be just a bit taller and sported a beehive as she attempted to teach her French students in my sophomore year.  Unfortunately, she didn’t speak much French.  Rather, she would belabor us with HER stories of her time in Africa, her students there, and tried to make what I would otherwise consider a very beautiful country into a dusty, dirty, dingy place.  But she talked of it so much so, I figured she wanted to go back.  Quietly, I thought of ways to get her there, but unfortunately my magic wand wasn’t working.

And I so wanted to LEARN French!  How I tried to get into Mr. Edwards class, but I was too late in the line of students who wanted out of Miss Pendleton’s class and into Mr. Edwards’ class. All of us realized there was going to be nothing to be gained by Miss Pendleton’s teaching skills.  So I watched this woman who, for the most part, entertained only herself for the hours she spent in “teaching” class.  How I wanted the French teacher my mother had told me about – from day one, he stated one sentence, “everything from this point on will be in French” and promptly proceeded to make the rest of his announcement in French.  Everything was written in French on the blackboard.  You wanted to know what was being said?  You picked it up quick, or you failed.  Oh, now there was a taskmaster I could fall in like with!

But no, I had this very tall, very long woman in front of me. Long hands, long arms, and the longest face you ever saw on any one person.  Did I mention the beehive?  You can only imagine how THAT emphasized what could have been minimized.

Guess what?  I got her the second year, too.  Bummer.  By then I knew that in order to have any life outside of school [because as the oldest three, with two younger siblings, I had a lot of home chores to attend to, and the sooner my school work was done, the sooner I could get to the chores, and possibly find some free time for myself and my passion for reading].  Since I was going to squeak by on a C anyway, I treated Miss Pendleton’s class like study hall.  She never seemed to notice.  Yes, she was still going on about teaching the poor children in Africa.  I lost count on the number of times we heard the story.  

Can you imagine my relief to graduate that class, with a C, after my junior year!?  I thought about trying French one more time, in the hopes of getting Mr. Edwards, but oh wait…English Lit!  Now there was a class I could sink my teeth into!  Yes, please, sign me up for English Lit!!

Senior year came, and with English Lit, and so did Mrs. Paddington.  She was a new teacher, for I hadn’t heard of her in the previous year.  Can you imagine how long MY face got when it was the newly married, previous Miss Pendleton teaching me English Lit???

I cried inside.  I cried because if she taught English Lit like she did French, I was in for one more year of Africa.  So I guess it was with some cynicism in my very young person that when she decided to focus primarily on creative writing in her lit class, that I was suspicious whether she really knew what she was asking for.  I was even more suspicious when she continued to return my papers to me marked with A’s.  A’s, and A’s, and more A’s.  Even on my penmanship, she made comments.  And I was suspicious of those, too.  I truly felt as if she knew somehow that she had let me down in her French class.  Was she trying to make up for it, now?  Was she rewarding me somehow for putting up with her for three years?  No, these grades could not at all indicate that whatever I wrote was ever going to be “good enough”.  She was just feeling sorry for me for knowing all about her Africa.

Oh, yes.  One thing I did feel sorry for her over, and that was when one of the boys not so charmingly referred to her as “horse-face”.  Yes, one could see it, and realized all along that her hairdo would never make it better.  It was a few days later she came into the Lit class, with her very long, very lovely black hair down, and pulled back into a pony tail at the nape of her neck, held with a silk ribbon.  My god, she was a lovely woman.  Even her very large teeth seemed to have become smaller overnight, with that one little change in hairstyle.

As she handed me yet another A for a paper done about a Hallowe’en tale, I shook my head at it, but looked up at her, and told her how much I liked how she looked that day.

She must have overheard that nasty boy’s comment from a few days before, because I know I saw her eyes well up with tears.  

But I still didn’t believe in her A’s.


Susan Caldwell
Member Rara Avis
since 12-27-2002
Posts 8464
Florida


170 posted 03-10-2004 03:42 PM       View Profile for Susan Caldwell   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Susan Caldwell

Karen~  Bootcamp was soooooooo boring...LMAO what a horror...

But I had written an email to a friend and when I finished part of it I realized it needed to be here (subjective).  As those of you that know me know, I am not one for details..straight to it.  So forgive the lack of real writing ability.

Anyway...here you go:

Illness and Death

My experience with a serious illness was not good.  Partly because I convinced myself that she would make it and be cured.  Partly because the doctors allowed us to think that way.  When it became obvious that she wasn't going to make it I was shocked, horrified and devastated.  I had a total break down in the hospital hallway.  Which is not me at all.  I am always the strong one, the one there for everyone else to lean on.  In this case I was the daughter-in-law, therefore I felt it my duty, even though she had been a mother to me for 17 years, to be there for her children, because surely their pain was deeper than mine.  I was wrong on that account.  She took a piece of my heart when she died.  It's been three years and I still miss her.  I have terrible guilt over divorcing her son after she died.  My point of all this rambling?  I wouldn't trade the pain of missing her for never knowing her.  She gave me too much and I am who I am to this day because of her.  So the pain is worth that.   I guess in life, we watch, listen and learn and then we let go, whether its due to their death, ours or just a letting go because its time to part.  


Sunshine
Administrator
Member Caelestus
since 06-25-99
Posts 67715
Listening to every heart


171 posted 03-10-2004 04:23 PM       View Profile for Sunshine   Email Sunshine   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Sunshine's Home Page   View IP for Sunshine

quote:
She took a piece of my heart when she died.  It's been three years and I still miss her.  I have terrible guilt over divorcing her son after she died.


Just before my first mother-in-law died, I divorced her son.  He told me that it was that news that made her "lose it"....

And I did care for her, very much.  Well done, m'dear.
Nightshade
Deputy Moderator 5 ToursDeputy Moderator 1 TourDeputy Moderator 1 TourDeputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Laureate
since 08-31-2001
Posts 14673
just out of reach


172 posted 03-10-2004 04:32 PM       View Profile for Nightshade   Email Nightshade   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Nightshade's Home Page   View IP for Nightshade

Vicky &  Susan, so glad that you joined in. After just having a happy cry watching Under the Tuscan Sun (you must see this scenery-beautiful movie), I came right here to Karen's journal and had another good cry.
   Enchantress & my mother died at the very young age of 47...well....46 really as she passed in January and would have celebrated a birthday in March. It was 1969. I had just given birth to my daughter three months prior. I had so much more to ask Mom about, so much more laughs to share, so much more love to give and receive.
   Strange, but we never ever talked about her cancer. I don't know if she spoke with my sister much about it either. That's probably why when I got a phone call from my Dad saying she had passed, it didn't seem real. Back in those days it was only whispered about. Keeping the hard facts of life from the "children" was the norm. Instead this type of thinking backfired on the seniors in the family. Holding on to one another, my sister and I broke to pieces at the viewing(an odd term when you think about it)of our sweet, petite, porcelain doll of a mother. I will never forget that moment - not ever.
  But, Mom will be remembered only with smiles. She taught NancyLee and I music appreciation, that flirting wasn't a crime if no one was hurt, keep a kleenex up your sleeve in case of a sneeze or tears, a little dab of perfume goes a long way, dance as if you were professionally taught, smile when you would rather cry, make your hubby feel like he's male perfection, and high heels might hurt, but boy do they make your legs look good! Hee hee....oh, and so much more. I think Mom was put on earth for such a short time because Heaven missed her beautiful soul just too much.
  I really don't know why I got so carried away with this when I was actually going to tell a story about my grandmother! lol. Come on NancyLee....put on your thinkin' cap. Cheers ladies. Oh, by the way.....I don't drink wine, don't really drink at all...hmmmm...but I used to love a little sip of Southern Comfort.   Carry on !!
Sunshine
Administrator
Member Caelestus
since 06-25-99
Posts 67715
Listening to every heart


173 posted 03-10-2004 04:42 PM       View Profile for Sunshine   Email Sunshine   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Sunshine's Home Page   View IP for Sunshine

Ah Chris, what a lovely...so many lines in here that just rammed into my soul...darlin' girl, I'll go all the way to the South to pick you up that Southern Comfort if you keep that thinking hat on....

I'm so PROUD of you!
Enchantress
Member Empyrean
since 08-14-2001
Posts 37801
Somewhere in time~


174 posted 03-10-2004 05:05 PM       View Profile for Enchantress   Email Enchantress   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Enchantress

Ah Chris...you know you brought the tears with that remember.

I too was thinking about our grandmother, having been raised a lot by our grandparents while mom and dad did the 'show biz' thing.

You know..when mom made 'the transition', being only 46, well, at the time it didn't seem that young..but when I reached that same age..it hit me, I mean really hit me how young she was.

I'm off to prepare dinner...but the wheels are turning now...

And btw Chris....You have a wee bit of Southern Comfort left inside my window seat.

Carry on folks...I will return!!
 
  Post New Topic   Go to the Next Oldest/Previous Topic Return to Topic Page Go to the Next Newest Topic 
All times are ET (US) Top
  User Options
>> Discussion >> pipTalk Lounge >> serenity's interactive journal   [ Page: 1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20  21  22  23  24  25  26  27  28  29  30  31  32  33  34  35  36  37  38  39  40  41  42  43  44  ] Format for Better Printing EMail to a Friend Not Available
Print Send ECard

 

pipTalk Home Page | Main Poetry Forums

How to Join | Member's Area / Help | Private Library | Search | Contact Us | Today's Topics | Login
Discussion | Tech Talk | Archives | Sanctuary



© Passions in Poetry and netpoets.com 1998-2013
All Poetry and Prose is copyrighted by the individual authors