These Boots Were Made for Talkin'

Ya' know, we all have that one thing, that single thing that no matter how old we get or how confident we are, that is our Achilles Heel. We all have something, even if it's a small thing, that can take us back to a less confident time, say elementary school or high school, in a heartbeat. It's usually something simple that means nothing to someone else, but means everything to us. For me....it's boots. Plain ole' boots. You can poke fun of my hair, question my choice of eye shadow or tell me I'm stupid, and it won't phase me a bit. But let me put on a pair of these, and my self confidence deflates like the burning Hindenburg. Why? Because one look at this in the mirror:

and suddenly I'm fifteen years old. It's the high school drill team all over again. Me yearning for thick sexy calves that stretch these boots to their limits, but getting stuck with bird legs that swim around in them like pencils in a cup. Me feeling like that little dandelion, waiting FOREVER to bloom into a beautiful rose that had the boys lined up asking me to prom. Geez. Will I ever grow out of this? Every fall I dust off my boots thinking this year will be different, that this is the year my legs have magically filled out, and I have overcome, once and for all, an old insecurity. And every year, I get the same result. I guess we all need something to remind us from where we came, so we can see how far we've come, but Lord, what I wouldn't give for some fatter calves.

So I want to know dear readers, what is your tender spot? What is that one thing that makes you feel like a gawky, insecure kid again?

Fun Monday-Veteran's Day

Our hostess this week is the lovely janis. She wants us to wave the red, white and blue this week, and I will gladly do that. Here is the specific assignment:

Since Next Tuesday is Veterans Day, I thought it would be nice to salute our Veterans and show our appreciation. Photo requirement of something patriotic.

My salute is to my grandfather, mama's daddy. He's been dead for about twenty years now, but I always think of him on Veteran's Day because of the time he spent in World War II and how it affected him for the rest of his life. In some ways it was as if the war never really ended for him. I don't have a picture of him in his uniform, so this will have to do.

I don't know the year this was taken, but this picture is of him and grandma early in their marriage, so it had to be just prior to him going off to war. Mama was a baby during the war, so grandma was like a lot of other war brides at the time, praying for the good Lord to keep her husband safe while holding things down on the home front. It could not have been easy then, and I doubt it was easy when grandad came home and still had the war raging in his head. For the rest of his life, he lived as if he were still on the battlefield, drinking his coffee as black as tar, eating the greasiest friend eggs you've ever laid eyes on and barking out comments as if they were orders. He was an imposing figure who held court over a room. His recliner was his throne, and no one ever sat in his chair. Even after he died, that chair sat empty most of the time.

By the time I came along some twenty years after the war had ended, grandpa was retired but still telling war stories. He was a well decorated soldier with plenty of stories to share. Some soldiers hold in their war experiences and refuse to talk about them. Others talk about them a lot. Grandpa seemed to talk about them all the time. As a kid, I felt like all he did was talk about the war. I just didn't understand, and it would be years before I did. I usually half listened and went on playing with whatever toy I had at hand or wailing on my brothers. I feel so stupid now. I wish I had listened more. In fact, I wish I had recorded his stories, taken notes and preserved them for future generations. What's that saying? If ifs and buts were candy and nuts, everybody would be happy for Christmas.

There is one story of his heroics that I do remember. I'm fuzzy on the details, but apparently, during a pretty fierce battle in Germany, grandpa bravely climbed a flagpole and tore down the Nazi flag that flew above the city. He tucked it away and brought it home as a war souvenir like so many other veterans did with war relics. He was always proud of the fact that he brought down such a strong symbol of the enemy. Occasionally, he would pull out that flag and show it to us and talk about what he did. I was so young I didn't understand the Holocaust or its effects, but I knew in listening to his voice that he had done something very important and very brave.

That flag is still in our family. My uncle, a Vietnam veteran, has it now. I haven't seen it in years. That kind of relic can be misconstrued, so it has to be presented in the right context. I hope that its story, grandpa's story, is always told when that box is opened. I'm very proud now of what he did. I just regret that he died before I could tell him that I finally understood, that his words weren't in vain....nor his battle scars.

Hanging on to Old Shoes

Over the last couple of days friends have relayed to me remarks they've heard from folks regarding the presidential election that are stunning in their prejudice and anger. I know I don't live in the most progressive part of the country, but these comments came from folks that surprised me and my friends with their deep seeded prejudices. It tells me that we climbed a big hurdle this week but still have so far to go. It also made me think about the responsibility we have when that kind of thing happens. While I strive to surround myself with diverse people and learn about other cultures, can I really say that I’m unprejudiced if I don’t call out someone on a racial slur or joke? No. Occasionally, I have spoken up, but sometimes I have bitten my tongue in order to avoid an argument. We are afflicted with politeness in the South. We often choose not to speak up rather than risk offending someone who has offended us. It’s this tolerance for ignorance that keeps us from making positive change, and we, I included, must muster the courage to speak up when we're confronted with the kind of comments I've heard about this week.

I’m posting a column by Eugene Patterson that ran more than 40 years ago, immediately after the Birmingham church bombing that killed four little girls. Patterson was a journalist who always called out people on their prejudices, a brave trait in 1960s Georgia.

I’ve always loved this column. While it was written during a more tumultuous time, its message is still pertinent today. Doing nothing is doing the wrong thing. It’s a good reminder to look deep inside of ourselves before pointing the finger at someone else.

By Eugene Patterson
Atlanta Constitution, September 16, 1963

A Negro mother wept in the street Sunday morning in front of a Baptist Church in Birmingham. In her hand she held a shoe, one shoe, from the foot of her dead child. We hold that shoe with her.Every one of us in the white South holds that small shoe in his hand.It is too late to blame the sick criminals who handled the dynamite. The FBI and the police can deal with that kind. The charge against them is simple. They killed four children.

Only we can trace the truth, Southerner -- you and I. We broke those children’s bodies.We watched the stage set without staying it. We listened to the prologue unbestirred. We saw the curtain opening with disinterest. We have heard the play.

We -- who go on electing politicians who heat the kettles of hate.

We -- who raise no hand to silence the mean and little men who have their nigger jokes.We -- who stand aside in imagined rectitude and let the mad dogs that run in every society slide their leashes from our hand, and spring.

We -- the heirs of a proud South, who protest its worth and demand it recognition -- we are the ones who have ducked the difficult, skirted the uncomfortable, caviled at the challenge, resented the necessary, rationalized the unacceptable, and created the day surely when these children would die.

This is no time to load our anguish onto the murderous scapegoat who set the cap in dynamite of our own manufacture. He didn't know any better. Somewhere in the dim and fevered recess of an evil mind he feels right now that he has been a hero. He is only guilty of murder. He thinks he has pleased us.

We of the white South who know better are the ones who must take a harsher judgment.We, who know better, created a climate for child-killing by those who don't.

We hold that shoe in our hand, Southerner. Let us see it straight, and look at the blood on it. Let us compare it with the unworthy speeches of Southern public men who have traduced the Negro; match it with the spectacle of shrilling children whose parents and teachers turned them free to spit epithets at small huddles of Negro school children for a week before this Sunday in Birmingham; hold up the shoe and look beyond it to the state house in Montgomery where the official attitudes of Alabama have been spoken in heat and anger.

Let us not lay the blame on some brutal fool who didn't know any better. We know better. We created the day. We bear the judgment. May God have mercy on the poor South that has so been led. May what has happened hasten the day when the good South, which does live and has great being, will rise to this challenge of racial understanding and common humanity, and in the full power of its unasserted courage, assert itself.The Sunday school play at Birmingham is ended.

With a weeping Negro mother, we stand in the bitter smoke and hold a shoe. If our South is ever to be what we wish it to be, we will plant a flower of nobler resolve for the South now upon these four small graves that we dug.

The Missing Piece

Yawn. It was a little tough sloughing through the day given the lack of sleep I had last night. The news junkie in me just couldn't go to bed. It was a fascinating election, and I knew we were in the middle of an historic moment. I was afraid to miss any of it. It was the first time in four years I missed working in the news business, and regardless of who you voted for, wouldn't it have been fun to be in Grant Park or in front of the White House or in Harlem last night witnessing the festivities? Oooh, I love witnessing history. I just don't think there will be another presidential race that interesting in my lifetime.


Kudos to President elect Obama for a skillful campaign and the ability to stir such emotion in so many people. John McCain gets a gold star for a good fight and a gracious and moving concession speech. Michelle Obama is one smart cookie, and I look forward to seeing what kind of first lady she is. And won't it be fun to have small children in the White House again? Things are certainly going to be interesting in the months to come, and last night's coverage was compelling for this old journalist. I had to laugh this morning at how glowing CNN was about the election and how doom and gloom Fox News was. The award for best props goes to NBC for that electoral map on ice and the blue and red electoral count up the side of the building. That was just downright cool. I flipped around from channel to channel soaking it all in and getting my political fix. While I was enjoying the pundits and the props and the pontificating I couldn't help but feel a tad sad because something was missing.
Oh Tim, I missed you so last night. It just wasn't the same without you.

Ho Ho Hoping for The Best

Dear Santa,
Now that Christmas is just around the bend, I’m writing to head off any repercussions for some of my actions this past week that may or may not be interpreted as naughty behavior. As for dressing up in that Michael Meyers mask and scaring neighborhood children who came to the door on Halloween, I was simply teaching them that things that often seem scary aren’t so bad underneath their exterior. I must say, it worked really well, too. Err, I feel obligated to point out that I was not in on that alone. Hubby was the one giving me the cue to pop up in front of the kiddies when they stepped onto the top step. Come to think of it, I think he was the one who came up with the idea. Yeah, I'm sure he was. Let me state for the record that I did not jump out at anyone who seemed to be under the age of five…or so. And squirting the toddler friend in the face with the water dispenser on the refrigerator when she went to get a drink that night was a complete and total accident. I swear. Besides, she thought it was funny.

I’m sorry I hid the Halloween candy from my family until the night before Halloween, but it was for their own good. I was really just looking out for their teeth. On that same topic I’ll plead the fifth on that incident involving the consumption of a large quantity of Whoppers that may or may not have occurred while said candy was hidden.

As for throwing the front section of the newspaper at Hubby when he jokingly told me I looked a lot like Sarah Palin, well, I plead self defense. I mean, really. He knows how worked up I get about her. Surely, you can understand my lack of self control over THAT. And the tossing of the comics in his direction, too. And the knock down, drag out debate about politics that ensued afterward, mostly because I couldn’t shut up. Are you keeping a running tab on that whole can’t shut up thing? Yeah, I thought so. Hmmm...Do you give extra credit assignments?

Okay, well, that about does it for this week. I’m sure I’ll be in touch again…soon. There are 51 days until Christmas. I’ll try to be a good girl between now and then, and it should be a lot easier now that the election is over. Of course, there are a lot of family get-togethers between now and then, and Mama J. and Papa T. are probably going to have some surgeries, so the family stress level could be a little high. About that extra credit?

Love,
Hula

Wow

Hey Abe,

Guess what? I passed three polling places before 7am today. At the first, the parking lot was full and cars were parked at the barber shop and the car wash across the street. Traffic on the highway slowed for voters to dash across the road. In the twenty years I've lived in this part of my city I've never seen such a crowd at my neighborhood polls. If this keeps up, we could have the biggest turnout in years. It took an economic meltdown, $3 gas and some passionate local issues to get us off our butts and down to the polls in numbers, but we're doing it, and it makes me feel great. As someone who has voted in a nearly empty building more than once, it makes me feel really great. And guess what else? The tickets for president today include a biracial man and a woman. We're getting there, Abe, slowly but surely. I just hope our concern and our enthusiasm lasts pasts today........

Fun Monday-Blogging

Our Fun Monday host this week is Bee Dancing As Fast As I Can. Love that name, by the way. Here is the assignment she gave to us.

I'd really like to know WHY you blog. Tell me how you got started or why you got started and why you keep it up. Plus there's a photo requirement: Post a picture of the one person/place/thing that most symbolizes the town or area where you live.

I stumbled into the blogging world a couple of years ago by readings the blogs of friends like janjanmom. It didn't take long for me to get the bug to be really involved in this unique community. I started for two reasons. First of all, my job is in marketing, and I thought it was important for me to understand what this forum is all about and how it works in order to use it if necessary in my work for promotional and informational purposes. It's a medium whose power I believe, cannot and should not be ignored.

Secondly, I have always enjoyed writing and needed an outlet for my writing. Like 50% of the bloggers out there, I have dreams of writing a book one day. I've been taking notes and filing away ideas for a couple of years but needed to develop the habit of writing every day and eeking out time for my writing. I felt like blogging would be a good way to do that, and it has.

Now for the pictorial part of this assignment. I had a hard time sticking to one photo because my town is a bit of a contradiction. It's a river town of about 30,000 people, kind of a big small town. And there is no denying that the river has built and supported this city since its inception. This kind of traffic can be found here every day.

Our community has survived civil war trials and the great flood of 1937. In fact, this picture was taken on the river side of the flood wall built by the Army Corps of Engineers after that devastation. A lot of our community concerts and festival activities take place right here on these riverbanks. I would be remiss if I didn't show you the other side of this flood wall. In fact, my friend M. at the tourism center would whack me up the side of the head if I didn't show you this:

A few years ago, the city commissioned a New Orleans artist to paint scenes from the city's history onto our flood wall. These are a few of the panels. Each scene is from an actual photo or is the artist's interpretation of actual events in the city's history. You must believe me when I tell you this photo doesn't do them justice. They are absolutely beautiful in person.

So, we have a lot of river jobs, some manufacturing jobs and a whole lot of farming around here. There's a definite country feel to this region though. This kind of scene is everywhere you turn, and that's part of why I like it here so much.In fact, if I had to pick just ONE picture that sums up this region, this would be it. This kind of view is available outside just about everyone's back door around here. However, in the midst of all the country flavor we have these unique bright spots of diversity and big city ideas. We have a state of the art performing arts center that brings Broadway shows to our town. We have a symphony, and the historic homes that used to be falling apart have been remodeled into fabulous buildings that are used as homes and art galleries by artists who have moved here from all over the country in the past few years. Who knew they would pick this little rural part of the country to set up shop and bring us such cool businesses and people. This really is a special place to live, cornfields on one side of the road and painters on the other. Now toddle on over to Bee's place to see everybody else's Fun Monday contributions.