IS THIS STILL AMERICA?

If you’ve been following the news lately, you’ve heard of a lot of things that sound very un-American. Take for instance the fact that little children are not allowed to sell lemonade from a stand in their own yard without a permit—-which takes months to obtain after taking a food safety course and passing a test connected with it.

A person may now be arrested for selling a chicken, pig, or part of a beef cow one has butchered; if you want to stay on the right side of  the law you better think twice before selling those extra eggs, they haven’t been inspected by the government; and don’t even contemplate selling any of that excess raw milk you may be fortunate enough to have.. even health food stores can’t sell raw milk because it’s now considered too dangerous for human consumption! Wow, we had no idea we were breaking the law when we sold our excess milk to our neighbors…lucky for us the authorities didn’t find out.

The time-honored tradition of Girl Scouts going door to door to sell their cookies has also been abolished. They cannot gather in a group and sell to passers by or even sell from their own yard; they don’t have a permit you see which takes….yada, yada, yada…

And be careful which piece of land you buy to build on; you may get started building your dream home only to be stopped from building because of new building codes, or because a rare bird was seen in the area, or because the surrounding land has just been declared a wetland, or for any number of other reasons. You can protest all you want but no one can compete with government agencies so don’t even try.

Thinking of having a yard sale [tag sale, garage sale] this weekend? Better check the CPSC [Consumer Protection Safety Commission] handbook. Technically you can be on the hook for thousands of dollars worth of fines if you sell anything that has been recalled or that will be recalled in the future. Are you selling anything with metal, paint or plastic? any old clothes or shoes with metal components that a child may come in contact with? Better not, that’s a no no under the new consumer guidelines. The way we are now taught to be suspicious of each other and inform on our neighbors we may be subject to a hefty fine just for selling those things we can no longer use. So far no one has been hauled to jail or fined but it is just a matter of time before this happens. In many states one must now obtain and sign a yard sale application prior to actually having a yard sale and in those states there are strict rules governing the use of signs for said sale.

These laws [and many more we aren’t even aware of] are firmly in place all across the nation. If they aren’t being enforced in your area don’t breathe too easily just yet. Some fine morning you may wake up to discover yourself a criminal, ensnared by a ridiculous set of laws you didn’t even know existed and which until that time had not been enforced. There are so many new laws passed daily there is no way we can know about them much less live them. Let’s hope we don’t run afoul of the law simply by innocently living our lives.

In case you haven’t noticed, we are quickly losing our freedoms. It’s sad to see all these changes…this is not the America in which I grew up. I never thought I’d have to say, this is not East Germany or Soviet Russia….this is America, land of the free, home of the brave—-or is it?

MISTY MEMORIES OF MY GRANDFATHER WRIGHT

My thoughts have recently turned to my grandpa Wright and as I recall my misty memories of him I’m filled with nostalgia and happiness. As the words of the song goes, “those were the days my friend, we thought they’d never end”, but of course they did.  Those long ago days did seem never-ending and they were filled with fun, laughter and the innocence of childhood.

Grandpa was, by vocation, a Baptist minister and for many years he pastured Pleasant Grove Baptist Church, right next door to his house on the outskirts of Conway. I was too young to appreciate the significance of attending services where he preached, but those two locations, the church and his house, are almost inseparable in my mind when I think of him. Many times when church was not in session I’d go there with him and just wander around inside soaking up the peaceful atmosphere. This was our ‘home’ church and we attended whenever we lived in the area. I grew up loving the church and the people there so it was only natural, years later, I wanted to be married there and have my grandfather perform the ceremony. He was aged at this point but he rallied enough to do the honors; how happy I am that he was able to give me this one last special memory of him.

It was always an adventure to go to grandpa’s for he lived in a converted schoolhouse and it seemed to me, as a child, enormous. The many rooms were big and airy [or drafty in certain seasons] and were perfect for playing hide and seek. I don’t remember what kind of heat he had but it didn’t extend to the bedrooms…or at least to the little used guest bedrooms, one of which I slept in when I stayed overnight. Even with no heat we stayed toasty warm even in the coldest weather, with the layers of blankets on top and the feather mattress beneath us.

We loved climbing the redbud trees on his front lawn and building forts in the fig bushes that closely surrounded his house on all sides. How perfect it was to have a handy snack within arms reach as we played; many times I’d go home too full of figs to eat dinner. If  we got tired of figs and wanted something ‘more substantial’ to eat he always had cookies and candy that he passed out liberally whenever we asked. The church lawn was a natural extension of our play ground since it bordered grandpa’s lawn. There were some old stone steps on one side of the church where we children spent many hours jumping, performing plays, eating, or just talking and planning.

For many years grandpa drove a school bus in addition to his ministerial duties. [ It seems in my cloudy memory that he may have at one time been a school teacher too or a school principal] Anyway, sometimes he’d let us play in the school bus when it was parked at his house, and once in a while he’d let us ride in it…it just didn’t get any better than that! In appearance grandpa was severe with his ramrod straight back and stern face, but in reality he was kind and rather indulgent….as long as we didn’t trample his flowers.

If I remember correctly grandpa did most of the cooking because granny was ill. He once served baked opossum for dinner; it was basted and browned to perfection with an apple in its mouth. I don’t remember how it tasted but that presentation has stuck with me all these years. I’ve since wondered where he got it….did he shoot it, trap it, or did someone give it to him? Another oddity he always had on hand was pickled pig feet. I remember sitting at the table with him as we enjoyed [?] them right out of the jar. I wonder if one can still buy them…I haven’t noticed them in a grocery store in years; not that I’d want to buy any, the thought sort of turns my stomach now. In the back of his house he had a storage shed full of home canned food; at one time he raised rabbits and he had dozens of jars of canned rabbit meat.

Grandpa, being a minister, had a love for religious pictures and had them all over his house. I spent many hours perusing and contemplating them; even now I’m transported back to that time when I see a copy of one that he had in his home. The thing I most closely associate with grandpa however are flowers. He loved flowers and he had the most amazing flowerbeds…in  fact most of his lawn was covered in flowers. Some of the ones I remember include jonquils, tulips, iris, hollyhock, roses and gardenia. Oh how I loved those gardenia–the smell was heavenly and even today when I smell a gardenia I think of grandpa. My bridal bouquet consisted of pink carnations with a gardenia or two tucked in for good luck.

Sometime after granny passed away grandpa remarried and moved with his new wife to Little Rock. We weren’t living in the area at the time but I do remember visiting him there a few times. He still had some of the beautiful flowers I associated with him, most notably roses and yes, the fragrant gardenia. I don’t know if he or granny [or both of them] was responsible for the beautiful flowers I remember from my childhood but my own father inherited that love for them, especially roses. My father grew magnificent hybrid tea roses and they are without doubt my very favorite flower. It just now occurred to me that grandpa’s flowerbeds may actually have been granny’s, planted and tended by her until she became ill. Perhaps that was why he was so protective of them..he wanted to preserve them for her to enjoy.

In thinking of grandpa I suddenly realize how much my life was shaped by him, something I had not realized till now. Our lives are not just what we make of them but are a sum total of all the ones we’ve known who have gone before us. Some shape our lives more than others, but they all leave their mark on us. We can only hope the mark they leave will be good… and in the case of grandpa Wright, it was.

THE PERKS OF COUNTRY LIVING

At first I couldn’t believe my eyes, but after rubbing them and blinking furiously for a moment, I saw that indeed it was true, a golden eagle sat perched on my fence post. We’ve seen them flying high overhead many times but never did I imagine the good fortune of having one come so close.

He sat quietly for some time then flew to a nearby tree [ oh the wing spread of that glorious bird]. I thought his visit finished when, once again he flew back to the same fence post, sat for a while, then glided down to the ground. He stayed for at least half a day perching on various posts, occasionally flying to the ground and then back up to resume his vigil.

I felt he was dining on something but I wasn’t sure just what; my husband said he was probably hunting and eating the frogs in and around the drainage ditch that runs along the fence line…sad that some of my spring peepers have sung their last song.

My attempts to get a picture of that wonderful bird failed miserably since my camera doesn’t have a good zoom feature; so the only lasting image I have of him is in my mind….but for now I’m high on that image.

I have hopes that the hunting was good enough here that he will visit us again, however I’m not going to hold my breath because this is his first visit in the five years we’ve lived here…or at least the first that I’m aware of.

Sometimes we entertain the idea of moving closer to town, especially in the summer when our four acres become a chore to keep mowed. If we did though, we would miss such heart warming delights as seeing the geese on the nearby pond, the shrike hanging their food to dry on the fence, the frisky young lambs and colts, the coyote running across the backyard, the pot-bellied pig chasing the miniature Shetland pony around their shared enclosure, and now, the most amazing of all, the golden eagle eating frog legs from our own personal supply!

Yes, enjoying these sights as we do we’d be crazy to move, and each day brings something new to see and enjoy. City living will just have to wait for a few more years… there are too many interesting things to view here in our little slice of the world to give them up just yet, if ever.

VALENTINE DAY THOUGHTS

I’ve never been a big fan of Valentines Day. When I was very young the thought of little babies, A.K.A. cupids, flying around shooting people with arrows was horrifying. I decided early on that if I had to be shot with an arrow to fall in love that I would pass. Obviously I did eventually fall in love, but I’m happy to say there was not even one arrow involved.

Neither do I go for the idea of making large sums of money on the concept of love. Anyone can buy a gift for someone on February 14 but if that’s the only time one does something for a loved one, that comes across to me as rather lame and unconvincing. Now I’m not knocking giving or receiving a Valentine gift…if that is part of an ongoing campaign of love and attention.

I can’t especially remember my father buying my mother a gift on Valentines Day but I do remember him bringing her something home almost daily. He loved her dearly and we children all knew it. That’s where I first observed how love between a man and woman should be.

My husband is not a romantic person and doesn’t ordinarily go out of his way to do something special for me on that particular day. I’m happy with that because he does things for me at different times all through the year for no special reason. For instance he will bring me a bouquet of daffodils to set on the table even though they make him sneeze; he’ll bring me a cherry limeade after he’s heard me say I’m thirsty for one; he makes sure there is no ice on the steps so I won’t fall; he warms my car when he knows I’ll be out early in the cold; he brings home dinner when he knows I’m tired or not feeling well; he holds my hand or arm when we walk because I don’t have good balance; he opens doors for me even when his arms are full. I could go on and on but you get the drift. These are just the every day sweet, kind things he does…no big Valentine fanfare, no caving to commercial pressure, but there is no doubt in my mind that he thinks of me and loves me.

Finally, to add to my ambivalence of this day, twelve years ago today my wonderful mother passed away. Even though I was terribly sad at her passing, I’m sure she and my father had a lovely Valentine reunion…sweethearts forever into the eternities.

My children made valentines for me when they were growing up and those I treasured as true expressions of love. My little four-old grandson made a valentine for me this year and that brought tears to my eyes as the cycle of love is repeated in the next generation. Giving of oneself, no matter what day it is, is the real test of love; that’s a goal worth striving for in my humble opinion.

FLASHBACK

This being the warmest winter I can remember for our state, my mind flashes back to the coldest one I remember ….it occurred in 1966/67.  Those were lean times for us and in an effort to save some money we had rented and moved with our two little boys to an old farm-house in Enola, which we got for a pittance.

We were lulled by a fun-filled summer of swimming, hiking, and cooking outdoors under the big shade trees. We even had a little Shetland pony which–but that’s another story, for another time. Our little boys even got to pick cotton [and I say ‘picked’ loosely because they only pulled a few bolls for the fun of it] in the field across the road. That was a one time adventure because that was the last year cotton was grown there.

Reveling in the great summer we’d experienced we were congratulating ourselves on a move well made just as the cold weather arrived and we found ourselves totally unprepared for the bitter, unprecedented arctic air. It got to minus ten degrees that winter and hovered around zero for weeks on end. Snow, but mostly ice, covered everything, four-foot icicles hung from the roof and it was brutally cold in that drafty old farm-house. I’m reminded of the McBroom story of a winter so cold that sunlight froze on the floor…that’s just the way it seemed to me in that house. That intense cold lasted most of the winter, which in itself was most unusual.

We kept ourselves from freezing by closing off the living room from the rest of the house and bundling up in many layers of clothing. The space heaters were woefully inadequate in most of the rooms, especially in the kitchen and dining room. I’d put on my coat and gloves when I went to the kitchen to cook, and much of the food in the cabinets was frozen solid.  [In fact, anything we didn’t want frozen we’d put in the refrigerator].  An example of this was the shortening I used to make biscuits which was kept in the cabinet; if I didn’t melt it before I made the biscuits they would actually come out of the oven with lumps of shortening still in them after they were cooked. Needless to say, I didn’t do much cooking that required me to be in the kitchen for long periods of time; our winter fare, for the most part, consisted of pots of beans and soups which required minimal tending.

We wore layers of clothing to bed and piled on all the blankets we owned, making it almost impossible to move because of the weight of the covers. Sometimes my body would actually feel sore from all that extra nightly weight. That brought back childhood memories of sleeping at my grandfather’s house in an unheated bedroom with so much cover on the bed I couldn’t move, trapped as I was between the covers and a feather mattress.

Somehow we survived that winter and as spring made an appearance our little boys were finally able to leave the living room and ride their Christmas tricycles on the front porch. The summer proved to be a cool one with August actually being quite chilly. We swore we wouldn’t spend another winter in that old house, especially since we were expecting a new baby in September. Our search for a house to buy finally came to fruition and we moved into it on Halloween. It was a snug, warm house and, coming as we were from that drafty  farm-house, we were doubly appreciative of it. That winter was also a cold one but not as cold as the  year before and we were warm and comfortable in our new house.

I don’t know how the old timers made it in their shot-gun style homes with no insulation, with daylight showing between the boards of the walls and floors and only a wood stove to heat the whole house. They surely were made from sturdier stock than most of us today.

Since that winter I’ve rarely seen zero degree weather here and I don’t think I ever remember it getting below zero again, certainly not ten below zero. That suits me just fine, I don’t like cold weather anymore. In fact this winter has been perfect; I’m placing an order for more of the same for next winter….and the next…and the next…

CALL ME ‘YELLER’

Large bodies of water both fascinate and terrify me. I’m glad I don’t live near the ocean…the Arkansas River near my home is way more water in one place than I’m really comfortable with. I do like to watch the barges travel up and down the river and through the lochs and dams, but spare me travel on the river.

I have, on occasion, spent the day on a party barge on one of our areas many lakes, but I breathed a sigh of relief when my feet were firmly back on solid ground. Once we spent several hours on a tour boat in San Diego; I’ve also spent the day on a sail boat on the Strait of Juan de Fuca in Washington state as well as on the ferry there, shuttling back and forth to Seattle. But that doesn’t mean I liked it, no indeed.

I’m still wondering  how I was ever talked into going on a cruise, especially since I had been hearing about various cruise ship incidents that added to my already present jitters. Let me just say here that even though I don’t like large bodies of water, that has never curtailed or crippled my activities. Even though I haven’t let  this dislike cramp my style…much…I’m really glad that we were safely back at home before we heard about that Italian cruise ship disaster. I had already decided against going on another cruise because we didn’t enjoy it that much, but after hearing about that nightmare there is no way on God’s green earth I will ever even consider another cruise. I’m not sure that I will ever even step foot on any kind of boat again. Call me silly, call me paranoid, call me ‘yeller’, but my mind is made up and I see no good reason to change it.

There are enough dangers on dry land without purposely calling forth dangers from the watery deep. Perhaps if I was a good swimmer I wouldn’t be quite so adamant in my feelings; perhaps if I enjoyed living on the edge I wouldn’t mind a little uncertainty; perhaps if I’d grown up in the water, so to speak, I’d relish every opportunity to be on the water; perhaps…..but no, there’s no sense putting forth suppositions, I am what I am–a ‘land lubber’.

Yes, I’m a land lubber and proud of it. This beautiful country of ours holds enough excitement for me without taking to the water, or the sky. I see no shame in that admission, in fact I find it supremely liberating to admit to my self my limitations. So here’s to staying on dry land….at least until the next family water activity!