Saturday, September 21, 2013

Life Ain't Fair

If you stand in my kitchen and the door into the dining room is open, you can look through and see a huge portrait of my husband, the only child of his parents.  And you will see it.  You can't miss it.  Although a bit large, it's a lovely thing, painted by Leon Loard when hubby was finishing up high school around 1970 and secured in a lovely golden frame worthy of a delicacy you might bid on at a Sotheby's auction.  Remember, I told you he was an only child.  His parents definitely doted on him.  He was their world.  Somehow, though, he escaped that "only-child-is-a-hellion" reputation.  Thankfully.

As I said, standing in the kitchen and peering through you will see the portrait.  Immediately.  And over the years, many have done exactly that, invariably commenting, "That's a lovely picture of your son," to which I gleefully reply, "That's not my son.  That's my husband."  I guess I might expect that assumption of adults who have seen both men.  What I didn't expect was the innocence of a child.

Yesterday being a Friday, we had both grandchildren at our house and at one point in the day, the granddaughter says, "Yay."  I turned to see what she was talking about  (she's two...we turn to see what she's talking about a LOT) and saw that she was pointing into the dining room.  "Yay," she repeated.  I looked up to see the portrait of my husband.

"No, honey, that's not Uncle Jay.  That's Pop," I smiled.  She gave it another look and asked, "Where's JuJu?"  I was incredibly touched by her thoughtfulness but answered honestly, "Oh, honey.  My parents didn't have that kind of money," knowing that she wouldn't understand that at all.  She gave it another look then turned back to her playthings.

You could almost hear her little inner voice saying, "The other kids are right.  Life ain't fair."

Older Isn't Necessarily Bigger

Hubby and I have the gigantic privilege of having our two grandchildren over to our house every Friday for a play day, and it warms our hearts to have all that preciousness in our home.  They are sweet little things.  Little things that I'll refer to as Thing One and Thing Two.  You know, sort of change the names to protect the innocent.  Thing One, our grandson, is five years old and his little sister, Thing Two, is...well...two.  You can imagine the joy, tears, power struggles, pandemonium, laughter, funny conversations and weariness that ensue.  Yesterday was no different.  Especially at nap time.

Thing One and I nap in the guest room with Thing Two in the portable baby bed beside us.  (What's that?  Of course I take a nap with them!)  Yesterday as we were settling in for our afternoon siesta, Thing One and I were talking, as we usually do, when the conversation turned to bones.  Thing One asked if cats have bones.  Yes, cats have bones.  Do I have a bone in my leg?  Yes, you do.  See?  Then I proceeded to show him how to feel the bones in one's body.  Do Angry Birds have bones?  No.  Angry Birds are not real.  Are teeth bones?  Yes, teeth are sorta like bones.  (By now Thing Two is blissfully sucking her pacifier and dreaming of Disney princesses.)  Deciding to seize the moment, I began to wax educational and told him that milk and cheese are good for building strong, healthy bones.  Thing One is no lover of such dairy products.  I know this.  With slightly wrinkled nose he said, "I don't drink too much milk," to which I replied, "Maybe you should."  He thought for just a second and promised, "When I'm twenty I will."  Picturing him at twenty years of age made me think of myself and I said, "I'll be 74 when you're twenty."  He wondered, "Will you be too big for the house then?"  Not being really sure if "big" meant "tall" or "round," I simply replied honestly, "I hope not!"

Little things.  They'll grab your heart.  One way or another.

Thursday, September 19, 2013


Shiver me timbers!  How is it that it's halfway through the day and I have to find out from Fox News that it's "Talk Like a Pirate Day?!"  Well, blow me down!

My blog posts usually pertain to some serious topic like truth, appearances, genealogy, or my Southern ways (that may not be serious to you, but it is to me, matey!) but today I am so surprised that I had not been alerted by Facebook or some lame-yet-well-intentioned forwarded email or even a 24-hour warning from my beloved Fox News that I just had to share my concern.  Argh!  But, alas, I will have to give Fox a reprieve...the announcers only discovered it themselves while I was watching the early afternoon show.

Lest ye think I be attempting to glorify the pirate life, leave me put you at ease.  I think it is bilge.  However, over the past few years much jest has been made of pirates and their evil ways.  Harkens me back to the "Pirates of the Caribbean" movies which feature the most playful and almost innocent of pirates ever to hit the silver screen, Captain Jack Sparrow, portrayed by the very talented Johnny Depp.

Landlubber, yet beach lover, that I am, I make no pretense as to being informed as to pirate ways and the like.  I do enjoy the movies, though, if I can just get past all the weirdness, the undead, the slimy sea creatures, and the constant drink.  (As some of my readers may know, I am no partaker of the grog.  I prefer orange prevents scurvy.)

Well, mates, I must shove off from my office now and go to the galley for a beverage, but I will leave you with this picture.  They are, as the old saw goes, "worth a thousand words."  One of which is "avast."  Means to stop or halt.  Which this picture may force you to do.