Our perception of age can sometimes be a funny thing.
The older you get, the more the numbers mean to you and the quicker they seem to change. When I was in grade school, time passed agonizingly slow, especially when school was in session, but now it seems to be passing agonizingly fast.
When we discovered dating, it was almost unheard of to date more than a year or so either side of our own age – especially someone younger – but after the 20s, the age gap didn’t seem to mean as much. Couple’s ages became 3, 4 or 5+ years different. I once knew a couple with an age gap of 20 years.
Older people put more stock in numbers. They have almost a need to give each person a specific age; but when you’re younger, you know four basic age groups. People are either younger than you, your age, a little bit older than you or just plain old.
When I was a kid I remember hearing my Mom say she was 39 and thought, “wow, that’s old”. Now, I think being 39 again wouldn’t be all that bad.
What got me thinking about this was the passing of a local icon in my hometown. When I was growing up he was the mailman, and that was back when that ‘neither snow, nor rain, nor gloom of night’ thing really meant something, because for six days a week, he brought the mail. Come hell or high water.
He was one of those ‘older’ folks. I had no idea how old, and it really didn’t matter, he was just older. He was not a kid.
According to his obituary, he and I were only 16 years apart. He doesn’t seem to be so ‘old’ now.
Thursday, July 11, 2013
Thursday, June 06, 2013
Grannie Fannie
"I'm gonna cloud up and rain all over you."
One of the many Fannie-isms I heard growing up. She was my maternal grandmother and her name was Fannie Bell Simpson. How much more southern can a name get? We all called her Grannie.
She was just an old mountain woman, and one of the biggest loves of my life.
She made melt in your mouth biscuits and the best iced tea in the world, both of which you could find at her house almost every day of the year. Summer or winter.
She could also make the best pot of pinto beans you ever ate cornbread with.
At least once a year she would make a batch of "tea cakes", which were basic shortbread cookies, but they were so good, and even better when you could sneak a nibble of the dough she let "set" in the fridge overnight.
She also made a terrific banana pudding which she always topped with meringue she made herself and then lightly toast in the oven.
To her there were three meals - breakfast, dinner and supper. I never heard the word lunch until I started school. And those meals were served at 6am, although she'd save you something if you wanted to sleep in til say, 7am. Dinner was at 11am and supper was 4pm.
She always looked the same. The same type dress, it just came in different colors, her hair worn back in a tight bun and a hairnet of course, and an apron. The dress was worn below the knees, but a touch closer to the ankle than the knee.
She collected salt and pepper sets. She must have had over 100 sets. Every time someone in the family would go somewhere, they got her another set.
In her entire life, she probably never got more than 50 miles away from where she was born and raised, except for a trip to Atlanta to visit her sister and once or twice to Charleston, SC to visit her son. But if anyone came by and asked her to go somewhere, she was almost always more than ready. She might have to put on a head scarf and a sweater, but she was ready.
She never shopped at a grocery store, she traded, and almost every small store in town let her run a tab. Her name was good enough for anything she wanted. They all called her Aunt Fannie.
She called a soda a "dope", and Upper 10 and Seven Up were her favorite.
She woke up each morning at the ungodly hour of 5am and she went to bed at the ungodlier hour of 8pm, and at times, when she went to bed, everybody went to bed.
She loved blue grass music and used to run me out of the house when she put on Bill Monroe or Flatt and Scruggs. Now I like blue grass.
She didn't watch too many soap operas, but she loved her "quiz shows". Jeopardy, The Price is Right, The Match Game, Password, and a bunch of others. I think she had a thing for Bob Barker.
She tried to be mad at us when she was supposed to be, you know, we did need discipline from time to time, but I don't think she ever really was. Ten minutes later she would be smiling and laughing. As she would say, her bark was much worse than her bite.
She also would play at times too. She ran me up the tree in her front yard more than once and then went in the kitchen for a dishpan full of water to try and throw at me.
She sat on her porch every day, waiting for the mailman, Tater Watts, to come by. Whether he left any mail or not, he would stop for a minute or two. I think he appreciated the break from carrying that mail bag around town. Oh, and the iced tea.
She also liked it when the Jewel Tea man would stop by. She didn't always buy something but she always looked.
We all loved her and she loved us. I think for the longest time our world centered around her, and we wouldn't have it any other way.
She died on my birthday and for a time I hated that, but have since come to view it as another connection I have with her.
One of the many Fannie-isms I heard growing up. She was my maternal grandmother and her name was Fannie Bell Simpson. How much more southern can a name get? We all called her Grannie.
She was just an old mountain woman, and one of the biggest loves of my life.
She made melt in your mouth biscuits and the best iced tea in the world, both of which you could find at her house almost every day of the year. Summer or winter.
She could also make the best pot of pinto beans you ever ate cornbread with.
At least once a year she would make a batch of "tea cakes", which were basic shortbread cookies, but they were so good, and even better when you could sneak a nibble of the dough she let "set" in the fridge overnight.
She also made a terrific banana pudding which she always topped with meringue she made herself and then lightly toast in the oven.
To her there were three meals - breakfast, dinner and supper. I never heard the word lunch until I started school. And those meals were served at 6am, although she'd save you something if you wanted to sleep in til say, 7am. Dinner was at 11am and supper was 4pm.
She always looked the same. The same type dress, it just came in different colors, her hair worn back in a tight bun and a hairnet of course, and an apron. The dress was worn below the knees, but a touch closer to the ankle than the knee.
She collected salt and pepper sets. She must have had over 100 sets. Every time someone in the family would go somewhere, they got her another set.
In her entire life, she probably never got more than 50 miles away from where she was born and raised, except for a trip to Atlanta to visit her sister and once or twice to Charleston, SC to visit her son. But if anyone came by and asked her to go somewhere, she was almost always more than ready. She might have to put on a head scarf and a sweater, but she was ready.
She never shopped at a grocery store, she traded, and almost every small store in town let her run a tab. Her name was good enough for anything she wanted. They all called her Aunt Fannie.
She called a soda a "dope", and Upper 10 and Seven Up were her favorite.
She woke up each morning at the ungodly hour of 5am and she went to bed at the ungodlier hour of 8pm, and at times, when she went to bed, everybody went to bed.
She loved blue grass music and used to run me out of the house when she put on Bill Monroe or Flatt and Scruggs. Now I like blue grass.
She didn't watch too many soap operas, but she loved her "quiz shows". Jeopardy, The Price is Right, The Match Game, Password, and a bunch of others. I think she had a thing for Bob Barker.
She tried to be mad at us when she was supposed to be, you know, we did need discipline from time to time, but I don't think she ever really was. Ten minutes later she would be smiling and laughing. As she would say, her bark was much worse than her bite.
She also would play at times too. She ran me up the tree in her front yard more than once and then went in the kitchen for a dishpan full of water to try and throw at me.
She sat on her porch every day, waiting for the mailman, Tater Watts, to come by. Whether he left any mail or not, he would stop for a minute or two. I think he appreciated the break from carrying that mail bag around town. Oh, and the iced tea.
She also liked it when the Jewel Tea man would stop by. She didn't always buy something but she always looked.
We all loved her and she loved us. I think for the longest time our world centered around her, and we wouldn't have it any other way.
She died on my birthday and for a time I hated that, but have since come to view it as another connection I have with her.
Friday, May 10, 2013
The Latest Graduation Day
Tomorrow Christopher graduates from Bellarmine. I cannot begin to say how proud I am of him. The last numbers I saw was a 3.2 GPA. I don’t know if that is for the last 4 years, the last year or the last semester, and you know what, I don’t really care. No matter what period it covers, it shows he never gave up applying himself and I couldn’t ask for any more from him than that.
As any parent knows, it’s a day of mixed emotions. The happiness and pride will be tempered a bit by the uncertainty of what lies ahead of him. After all, now he has to face the ‘real world’, but he’s making a good solid step toward realizing his goals so I’m sure he will be fine. His three siblings who took the step before him have done well for themselves and their families. I have no doubt he will do the same.
In my eyes, the little turtle butt of a baby, the 3 year old decked out in a homemade dinosaur outfit at Halloween, the 7 year old who seemed so proud of his broken arm, the 8 year old who made the basketball team, the 9 year old who found a way to take the school trip to Notre Dame even though he was so sick he could hardly stand up, the 12 year old who started noticing girls, the 15 year old who took his first nervous drive around the block and the 18 year old who left home for the first time on his way to college, will all be walking across that stage with him.
Son, you outgrew my lap, but never my heart. ~ Author Unknown
As any parent knows, it’s a day of mixed emotions. The happiness and pride will be tempered a bit by the uncertainty of what lies ahead of him. After all, now he has to face the ‘real world’, but he’s making a good solid step toward realizing his goals so I’m sure he will be fine. His three siblings who took the step before him have done well for themselves and their families. I have no doubt he will do the same.
In my eyes, the little turtle butt of a baby, the 3 year old decked out in a homemade dinosaur outfit at Halloween, the 7 year old who seemed so proud of his broken arm, the 8 year old who made the basketball team, the 9 year old who found a way to take the school trip to Notre Dame even though he was so sick he could hardly stand up, the 12 year old who started noticing girls, the 15 year old who took his first nervous drive around the block and the 18 year old who left home for the first time on his way to college, will all be walking across that stage with him.
Son, you outgrew my lap, but never my heart. ~ Author Unknown
Thursday, April 18, 2013
Vegas and Me
Sue and I spent a week last month in Las Vegas. I guess you could call it our second
honeymoon, but that would be a stretch since we really didn’t have a first
honeymoon, that is unless you count the
3 days we stayed at her uncle’s mobile home just outside King’s Canyon State
Park in California. We had too many
things to do to get ready to move a family of mine and hers across the country
to Charleston SC. I’ve been married to
this wonderful woman for 28 years. Who
knows where, or even if I would be, if she wasn’t here?
My first trip to Vegas was 1971 and to say it has changed
would be putting it mildly. Now, I will
admit that my memory is clouded by a few brain cells lost to age and selective
overindulgence, but I’m fairly sure I remember enough to make some comparisons.
Back then the draw was gambling - gambling with side orders
of a quickie marriages and/or divorces and legal prostitution, but make no
mistake, gambling was king.
Driving in from the south, after miles and miles of desert
that made you wonder if you were ever going to get there, it suddenly popped
up, almost from out of nowhere; an oasis of glitz and glitter. After driving so long in the desert it could
have been a lot less visually imposing and still look good.
There were a few tall hotels, but the largest structures back
then were the casino signs, each showing the headliner act. A lot of the shows were free and some, like
Elvis, went for about $15 bucks a ticket.
The food was very cheap. A
breakfast of eggs, bacon, hash browns, toast and orange juice was 50 cents in
some places, no more than 99 cents in the others. The Circus Circus was the only one I can
remember that let minors in, and that was only in very restricted areas.
In one of the hotels we stayed back then, there were only
two ways to get from the hotel rooms -- which was really no more than an
attached motel -- in the back of the casino to the strip. You could either go down the driveway and
dodge cars or go through the casino.
There was a wide, red carpet that ran from the back door to the front
door of the casino and a security guy eagle eyed us from one door to the
other. If we stepped off the carpet he
was on us in a flash, reminding us that we were under age. But in some cases, if you played your cards
right (pardon the pun), you could find a crowded corner of a casino you could
sneak into, underage or not.
Now, fast forward 42 years.
The gambling is still there, but it appears that Vegas has found other
ways to get your bucks. Now, almost all
the casinos, especially on the strip, are tall, imposing looking buildings, and
they all sport a hotel and a host of other things too. One has a roller coaster that runs through it
and out over the grounds. Another is
reminiscent of the Seattle Space Needle and has a spinning ride at the top that
carries you out over the edge of the building so you can look at the ground
some 900+ feet below. The same one will
also let you bungee off the top for $100+, and still another had a multi screen
theatre and bowling alley inside.
The food has also changed.
Each place has at least a couple of places to eat and most have buffets
that range from about $15 to $60+. I was
actually shocked and a bit irritated to find not one, but two McDonalds on the
strip.
I’m not a gambler.
I’ll watch the high rollers a bit and play the slots, but even that has
changed. Gone are most of the old 3 reel
machines and they have been replaced by the newer video models that not only
let you change the amount of money you want to gamble, but actually change the
game with the press of a button. In
fact, most machines I saw would let you bet any amount from 1 penny to 5
dollars, and the irritating part is when they preset the minimum bet to 50
cents or a dollar. I’m not cheap, but
don’t call it a penny or nickel or quarter slot and then set it to a higher
figure. If I want to play dollar slots,
I will go find a dollar slot machine.
Oh, and being video they pay off with paper. Press a button and get a certificate, no more
coins clanking into the tray. The tray
is still there, just no coins. I will
admit I’m not well versed in slot machine psychology, but I always thought the
sound of falling coins was the perfect tease to get someone to drop in a
quarter or three. What better way to
coerce someone into trying their hand at the machines than seeing some lucky
soul jump up and down while watching the tray to fill up.
As I said before, I’m not sure whether Vegas has outgrown
me, or vice versa, but I do know that it’s not the place it used to be. The only thing that reminded me of old Las
Vegas was Fremont Street downtown; that is until they turned the overhead light
show on. Plus there was still the
overall stench of cigarette smoke, but I smoked back in the old days so it
didn’t bother me. This trip it was
almost smothering.
The only thing I saw that was absolutely the same is the
lack of clocks. There is no need worry
about trivial matters such as time when the house wants you to spend your
money.
Thursday, March 07, 2013
Passing It Along
For a couple of summers during high school I worked for the city. I guess their official name is the city utilities, or something like that. Today they would call what I did 'weeds and seeds'. We cut grass and brush, and a lot of it. It was way before weed eaters came along and I got to be pretty handy with a sling blade and a briar scythe.
Each morning before work we would all gather in a little room in the basement of the utilities building, It wasn't fancy, just functional. Amongst some tools and other essential clutter, there were wooden benches along different walls. The teenagers would gather on one bench, and the older crew would sit on the other.
Mostly, the teenagers dozed while the regular crew sat and talked. They all looked very much alike. Older, at least mid 50s with some well into their 60s. They wore bib overalls or work pants, a work shirt and brogans. Above the brogans you could see the top of their white socks rolled down at the top. That was the way my grand dad wore his socks.
Most of them smoked unfiltered cigarettes or roll-your-owns, and one of them usually had a wad of tobacco in his cheek. They sipped their coffee and talked about the latest news around town, or maybe politics in Nashville or Washington, but never about anyplace else in the world, unless one of them knew a local 'boy' in Vietnam.
But the talking didn't last long. When the time came to start work, they were out the door in a flash. Of course, all they had to do was drive the trucks, the teenagers did all the lifting and loading and unloading, but I figured they had earned the right to the jobs they had. They all wore the signs of doing what we did, but for a much longer stretch.
The best part of the job was the little nuggets of advice they gave us. They covered everything from women, to what kind of job to get, what was the best car, and where in town or the county we should look for a house; which was usually where they had a friend or a family member with one for sell.
They were good men filling a niche, who were happy to pass along advice, and for the most part the teenagers seemed happy to listen to them. It seemed to be the logical progression of things.
I started thinking about this today, because I came to the realization that I was one of those men now, or at least close to it. I work in an office where most of the younger folks are way ahead of where I was at that age. I may have experience, but they have a lot more knowledge and skills than I do from being weaned on computers from almost the time they learned to walk.
I had a similar feeling when I retired from the Air Force. When I started bumping into more and more troops who were born after I had enlisted, I knew it was time for me to start thinking about retiring.
Each morning before work we would all gather in a little room in the basement of the utilities building, It wasn't fancy, just functional. Amongst some tools and other essential clutter, there were wooden benches along different walls. The teenagers would gather on one bench, and the older crew would sit on the other.
Mostly, the teenagers dozed while the regular crew sat and talked. They all looked very much alike. Older, at least mid 50s with some well into their 60s. They wore bib overalls or work pants, a work shirt and brogans. Above the brogans you could see the top of their white socks rolled down at the top. That was the way my grand dad wore his socks.
Most of them smoked unfiltered cigarettes or roll-your-owns, and one of them usually had a wad of tobacco in his cheek. They sipped their coffee and talked about the latest news around town, or maybe politics in Nashville or Washington, but never about anyplace else in the world, unless one of them knew a local 'boy' in Vietnam.
But the talking didn't last long. When the time came to start work, they were out the door in a flash. Of course, all they had to do was drive the trucks, the teenagers did all the lifting and loading and unloading, but I figured they had earned the right to the jobs they had. They all wore the signs of doing what we did, but for a much longer stretch.
The best part of the job was the little nuggets of advice they gave us. They covered everything from women, to what kind of job to get, what was the best car, and where in town or the county we should look for a house; which was usually where they had a friend or a family member with one for sell.
They were good men filling a niche, who were happy to pass along advice, and for the most part the teenagers seemed happy to listen to them. It seemed to be the logical progression of things.
I started thinking about this today, because I came to the realization that I was one of those men now, or at least close to it. I work in an office where most of the younger folks are way ahead of where I was at that age. I may have experience, but they have a lot more knowledge and skills than I do from being weaned on computers from almost the time they learned to walk.
I had a similar feeling when I retired from the Air Force. When I started bumping into more and more troops who were born after I had enlisted, I knew it was time for me to start thinking about retiring.
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