Susan Writes

An Unexpected Christmas Gift

Posted on December 17, 2015 by susanrray

Christmas, 1978. All the gifts, except two, had been opened. Two big square boxes wrapped in green foil and tied with red velvet ribbon and huge bows. Boxes big enough for small TVs or large radios or long winter coats.

“Open those two last,” Mom had said. So my brother, sister-in-law, Husband, and I opened all the other gifts – shirts, sweaters, gloves, coffee pots. “Now, Brenda and Susan, you can open your presents. But don’t let each other see.” I was perplexed. What would Mom and Dad get for my sister-in-law and me? And they always ‘evened out’ presents and there wasn’t another gift for my brother or Husband.

I tore a piece of the wrapping paper from a corner and saw a brown cardboard box. Dad said, “Your mother wrapped those gifts a long time ago so she’d be sure to have them ready for you girls.” His smile and wide-open eyes told me he was happy. Must be something he thinks we’ll like, I thought. Mom sat with her arms crossed in her lap and a sheepish grin. In past years, Mom and Dad sometimes made special gifts, like wooden magazine holders and crocheted afghans. Must be something like that.

I ripped the paper off one side of the box. “Is this really what’s inside?” I asked. Dad nodded. Mom grinned. The picture showed a pressure cooker. A big canner. Through the years, many times I’d helped Mom fill her canner with quart jars of green beans or vegetable soup or pears. But I’d never canned anything since I moved away from home. Why did I need a pressure cooker big enough to hold seven quart jars?

“Read the note your mother wrote. It’s inside the box.” Dad said.

“At the end of the instruction book,” Mom added.

By then both Brenda and I had opened our gifts, and with Dad’s help, we lifted shiny, heavy metal pressure canners out of the boxes. I took the top off the canner and found the instruction book inside. As I flipped through it looking for Mom’s handwriting, Dad said, “Read your mother’s note out loud.”

Christmas 1978

Purchased Oct. 3, 1978 – Crouch’s Hardware

Byrdstown, TN – Price $51.95

The price is listed so 40 years from now, you can compare prices. I bought this on the last day of canning pears when I was good & tired. I knew if I waited, I’d decide it’s not a good present since you are smart enough to the get the unspoken message.

Love Mom & Dad

I got the message. As did Brenda, my brother, and Husband. Canning pears was the grand finale of my parents’ summer work. For many years, they had grown, harvested, and preserved berries, beans, corn, peas, potatoes, apples, and more – for themselves and for all of us. And they were tired.

Mom grinned. Dad’s face lit up with an ear to ear smile, and he said, “Next year, we’re playing more golf. We’ll grow a garden and even pick most things. And you’ll learn to use a canner just like your mother did.”

The next summer with Mom’s help, I canned beans, made pickles, and froze corn, berries, and apples. I made strawberry jam, grape jelly, and applesauce.

And when Christmas 1979 rolled around, Mom gave me a gift I truly appreciated. Four quarts of canned pears that she and Dad had picked from the tree in their backyard.

Filed under: Christmas | Tagged: canner, Christmas gift, pressure cooker | 2 Comments »

A Christmas Joy

Posted on December 9, 2015 by susanrray

Lou opened our box of ornaments. “What’s this?” my eight-year-old Grand asked, and she tossed something toward me. A four-inch long, green bird with a long curved tail fell in my lap. “Do you really put that on your Christmas tree?”

“There’s another one,” I said and laughed at Lou’ frown. “I have a bird collection that I hang together. When I sit in my chair drinking morning coffee I like seeing them.”

Lou held the other bird high above her head. “These don’t look like Christmas ornaments. Why do you put them on your tree?”

“A student, a girl, gave them to me for Christmas. When I opened the gift, she said, ‘Mom said you better like those. They cost a lot of money!’ ”

“Really, she said that?” asked my Grand. I nodded. I don’t hang all the ornaments from students, but many I do, to remember classroom days.

Lou prowled through the ornaments while I hung ten birds. I encouraged her to help me decorate the tree. “How about this?” Lou said, “I’ll lay the ornaments out. You hang them.” I’d envisioned that she and I would decorate Husband’s and my tree together, but she continued to sit cross-legged on the floor and lined up ornaments on the coffee table.

“Okay,” I said. “But I’m not hanging everything in the box. Nothing blue. And some are too fragile to hang. I just like to keep them.” While Perry Como sang “White Christmas,” Lou sorted and I decorated.

“What do you want me to do with this plastic broken-legged white reindeer and its funny looking Santa?” My Grand asked. I took it from her.

“That goes on a limb. In the middle of the tree where it’s safe and won’t fall off. It was on the tree at my house when I was a little girl. This Santa is at least seventy years old,” I said. My Grand rolled her eyes. I reached across her to get a plastic cream-colored lantern from the box. “This is really old too,” I said.

“It looks old! You don’t hang that, do you?” Lou said.

“I do. It was decoration on my Christmas gift from Pop in 1968.”

“And you kept it?”

“Guess what was in the box?” My Grand raised her shoulders, threw her hands in the air. “This diamond ring.” I held out my left hand. “When Pop gave me this engagement ring, we decided to marry the next August.”

Lou pointed to the small lantern. “Well, I hope there was more that on the outside of the box.”

“There was. A beautiful red bow and another lantern. ”

Lou searched in the ornament box. “You mean this?” She held a matching plastic lantern. “I hope they looked better when they were new. Good thing there was a special gift in the box.” Someday my Grand will understand.

Finally, Lou joined me in decorating. She held a red glittery glass ball, “This better be up high so Micah and Henry (her 18 month old brother and 2 ½ year old cousin) won’t break it. You do the high ones and I’ll put the things that won’t break on the bottom.”

When every tree branch held at least one ornament, I said, “I think we’re almost finished.”

Lou picked up another ornament. “Uh, Gran. You said no blue. But this is pretty special.” Her eyes were opened wide and she held a clay blue heart that she’d made two years ago. She hung it front and center.

One of the greatest joys of Christmas is remembering Christmases past. Especially with someone you love.

Filed under: Christmas | Tagged: decorate Christmas tree, plastic lantern, plastic reindeer | 2 Comments »

December Reminders

Posted on December 2, 2015 by susanrray

I flipped the calendar to December and a small piece of paper fluttered onto the floor. A note from me to me. Across the top of the page I’d scribbled CHRISTMAS 2015. Reminders written last year: December 30, 2014.

Treats on the porch for delivery people
No new food
This year’s menus worked
Same gift for all.
Treasure Hunt for older Grands’ gifts
One big gift bag for each Grand

None of these ideas are original. Like most things I’ve ever done successfully, I’ve learned from someone else.

I buy a few gifts that are delivered. If America Girl dolls and men’s coats in tall sizes were available locally, I’d buy them here. Last year to say thank you to the delivery people, I put a basket filled with bottles of water and packaged snacks on our front porch. The UPS deliveryman knocked on the door. When I opened it, he held a water bottle in his hand. “I just wanted to see you. This is the first time anyone has ever done something like this for me. Thank you,” he said. He smiled, waved, and hopped into his truck. The woman who delivers our mail left letters and small catalogs, bundled with a rubber band, on our doorstep the day after she’d chosen a package of cheese and crackers. If you want to leave treats, put a sign in the basket. DELIVERY PEOPLE PLEASE READ and write a note inviting them to choose something; otherwise, they never know it’s for them.

I have to remind myself to keep food simple during the three days that Son and his family visit for Christmas. Those are days that Daughter’s family also eats meals with us. Six adults. Eight Grands. No new food. If the kids don’t recognize the food, they’re hesitant to eat. If they don’t eat, no one – neither the child nor parents nor this Gran – is happy. Thankfully, I saved menu notes that include kid choices: ham rolls, Angel biscuits, chicken strips, sweet potato fries, cut up apples and oranges.

Our Grands are ages six months to 10 years. Their wish lists, which I ask for, are long. Like other grandparents, I’d like to get everything, but I don’t. And I’ve learned a way to make shopping easier. Last year, one Grand asked for a soft, cuddly blanket, so each Grand got a twin size, soft, cuddly blanket. They liked that they got their favorite colors and that their blankets had their names embroidered along the top. (Yes, each Grand got one gift that was only on his/her list.)

After all the gifts were opened last Christmas, my older Grands asked why I didn’t hide the their gifts and write clues for a treasure hunt like I’d done before. I forgot. The gift becomes bigger and better as my Grands follow clues: where you sleep when you visit. Where Gran hides candy. In your baby brother’s car seat.

New this year: I bought 8 identical big gift bags and I taped a Grand’s picture on each bag. No matter the size of the gifts, they go in the bag or a note that will lead to a gift stashed in the garage. And for my four Grands who can’t even read their names, they know their pictures. I’ll let you know if this works.

I taped the CHRISTMAS 2015 note on my kitchen work desk. Reminders to keep this holiday time simple and to focus on people. Isn’t Christmas all about people?

Filed under: Christmas | Tagged: Christmas 2015, December reminders, one bag, reminders, simple meals | Leave a comment »

Giblet Gravy

Posted on November 26, 2015 by susanrray

The aroma of cornbread dressing baking in the oven takes me back to being a kid and standing by a stove. Mom and her sisters, Doris and Nell, began taking turns hosting holiday meals in the 1950s. The hostess roasted a turkey and made the dressing, and the other two sisters prepared the side dishes. All three made a dessert and all three had a hand in the gravy no matter where our family celebrated Thanksgiving and Christmas.

At our house while the dressing baked, Mom poured the warm turkey drippings from the roasting pan into a bowl. She set a saucepan on the stove eye and turned the setting to medium. Then she cut a hunk of butter, dropped it into the pan, and handed me a wooden stirring spoon. Aunt Nell and Aunt Doris stood close.

“Now, Ruth,” Aunt Doris said to Mom, “are you sure that pan is big enough?”

“It’s the one I always use,” Mom answered.

“It looks too small to me.”

“You said that last time we made gravy here.”

Aunt Doris used her largest saucepan when we gathered at her house, and Mom always suggested that a smaller pan would be less washing.

Mom added a few spoonfuls of flour to the melted butter. I stirred. Aunt Nell said, “I never understand how you can make gravy and not measure the butter and flour.”

“You don’t think that looks right?” Mom asked.

“I’m sure it is, but I measure.” Aunt Nell looked in the pan. “That looks like it’s stirring up to the right consistency, don’t you think?”

I listened and stirred.

“We can always add a little more flour, mixed with water, if it’s too thin,” Mom said.

“Maybe. But my gravy gets lumpy when I add flour and water,” said Aunt Nell.

As the flour and butter mixture browned, I moved aside so all three sisters could judge its color. Not too light, not too dark. Mom skimmed some of the fat from the turkey drippings and picked up the bowl to pour the broth into the pan.

“I’d wait until it’s a little darker,” said Aunt Doris.

But Mom and Aunt Nell agreed the roux was a perfect caramel color so Mom slowly poured the broth into the pan. “Keep stirring,” she told me and she added a few shakes from the salt and pepper shakers.

While I stirred, Dad sliced the turkey. Mom chopped the cooked turkey gizzard and liver and a boiled egg in pea-size pieces. Aunt Nell and Aunt Doris loaded our dining room table with dressing, sweet potato casserole, white mashed potatoes, cream corn, green beans, lima beans, congealed cranberry salad and homemade yeast rolls.

I knew what came next. The gravy tasting. Each of the sisters dipped a spoon into the gravy saucepan. They blew gently to cool it and then tasted.

“Maybe a little more salt.”

“Do you think it’s thick enough?”

“It’s close to being ready.”

While Dad, uncles, grandparents, cousins, my brother and I stood behind our chairs around the dining room table, the cooks stood by the stove. They salted, stirred, and tasted until they finally agreed that the gravy was good enough to serve.

Mom added the giblets and chopped egg, gave one last stir, and then poured the hot gravy into her china gravy boat. She placed it on the table between the sliced turkey and cornbread dressing.

Filed under: Thanksgiving | Tagged: Aunt Doris, Aunt Nell, giblet gravy, gravy, Mom, three sisters | 1 Comment »

Moments Shared with Strangers

Posted on November 19, 2015 by susanrray

My friend, Kim, shared a grocery store experience that she called Memories Shared Between Strangers. Kim stood in a check out line between two strangers. A man, about age 80, in front of her and a man close to her age behind her. After the cashier scanned Kim’s groceries, he asked if Kim wanted to contribute one-dollar to St. Jude Hospital. Kim agreed, and then the clerk asked if she wanted her name on the donation. Kim shook her head. The customer behind her said, “Just write Bozo.”

“His comment led to a trip down memory lane for both of us,” Kim told me. “We reminisced about Bozo, Ms. Nancy and the Romper Room, the Magic Mirror and Captain Kangaroo. I remembered that when I was a kid I received a postcard from Ms. Nancy and my momma still has it. The young cashier probably thought we were crazy, but the stranger and I shared smiles and good memories.”

When Kim picked up her grocery bags, she noticed the older man who’d been in front of her was still standing close and was smiling. He’d heard the conversation. Kim wondered why he’d stayed to listen. Was it memories of his child watching those programs? Kim ended her story with these words: “Whatever it was, all three of us, all complete strangers, shared something special together in that moment. We all left the store a little happier.”

Last week as I put a few items on the check out counter at Hobby Lobby, the woman in front of me said, “Did you get my candy?” and she held up a candy bar for the clerk to see. The clerk shook her head, scanned the candy bar, and started to put it a plastic bag with the woman’s other purchases. “Oh, no,” the woman said, “the chocolate goes in my purse. I’m eating it as soon as I get to the car.” I laughed.

“I’m glad someone else treats herself after shopping,” I said. “I do that, too, sometimes.”

The clerk chuckled and then said, “It’s not just on your side of the counter. I’ve got M&Ms in my pocket right now. That’s my break time treat.” So while the clerk scanned my purchases, we three women laughed and talked about our need for an afternoon chocolate snack.

Maybe no one connects with smiles more often than we grandparents. It happens almost every time I have a Grand with me. I buckled Micah, 17 months old, in his car seat in my van parked in a store parking lot. As I started to close the van door, I heard a man’s voice. “Hello, there!” I turned and saw a gray-headed man, a stranger with a big smile. He stopped a few feet from me. “Is it okay if I say hello to your little guy?” It was. He made a silly face and noise and Micah laughed, and of course, both we adults laughed. The man and I talked briefly about the joys of grandchildren. He waved good-bye to Micah and went on his way.

Brief encounters. Just a few words. Shared memories. Mutual cravings for chocolate. Laughing with another grandparent. One or two minutes spent talking and laughing with total strangers. Here in the South, we call that being friendly.

Filed under: Everyday Life | Tagged: being friendly, grocery store line, memories shared between strangers, strangers, talking | Leave a comment »

A Homecoming Remembered

Posted on November 12, 2015 by susanrray

The perfect suit hung in my closet. A three-piece wool suit Mom had made. Two-button jacket, A-line skirt, sleeveless top – all lined. We coeds dressed up for Tennessee Tech Homecoming in the late 1960s.

I loved the fabric of my suit – dull, rusty orange with flecks of gold and brown. But I didn’t like that the only dark-colored high-heeled shoes I owned were black. Mom thought they looked fine with my orange suit. My friends agreed with me that I needed brown heels.

During a gathering at Boyfriend’s (who is now Husband) fraternity house the week before Homecoming, I whined that I wanted new brown shoes to wear on Homecoming day. I wore an 11 AA, a shoe size not available in Cookeville, but I knew several stores in Nashville where I was sure I could find the perfect shoes. I didn’t have a car, and Boyfriend, who did, couldn’t take me shopping because he worked on weekends and after classes.

However, Boyfriend’s fraternity brother, Jim “Worm” Miller, heard my whining and offered to help. So on Saturday morning, Worm and I took off to Nashville so I could shop along downtown Church Street. We walked from store to store. Worm was patient and insisted that I try on many pairs of shoes, even ones that weren’t brown or high heeled. Finally, I bought a pair of leather, 1½” heels with crisscross wide straps and the perfect color, not just brown, but dark caramel. I was so proud.

On Homecoming morning when I put on my new suit and shoes, I was happy and felt good about my whole outfit. Even the cloudy, rainy day didn’t dampen my spirits. Boyfriend pinned a yellow rose corsage on my lapel, held an umbrella over our heads, and we walked across campus from my dormitory to the football stadium. Although it rained during the game, no one considered leaving. We put on raincoats and huddled under umbrellas, and my feet, and everyone else’s, got wet. Soaking wet.

Late that night when I finally took off my shoes, I poured water out of them and stuffed dormitory bathroom brown paper towels inside each shoe. I expected them to dry and be as good as new. Days later when my shoes finally dried, the shape was fine and I could wear them, but wavy lines and spots marked the leather. I scrubbed with leather cleaner and shined with clear shoe wax – caramel colored polish wasn’t available – but I couldn’t hide those ugly watermarks. My new shoes were ruined and I never wore them again. I hated that I’d spent so much of my clothing allowance for shoes I wore once, and I was disappointed that my beautiful shoes turned hideous.

You’d think I’d be the only person who’d remember this shoe story, but Worm never forgot. The times that I’ve seen him during the past almost fifty years, he always asks if I ever bought another good-looking pair of brown shoes. And then he reminisces about taking me shoe shopping and how I ruined my brand new Homecoming shoes in the rain. But neither of us remembers who won the football game.

Tech’s Homecoming is Saturday. I hope Worm and many other friends come for the weekend. We’ll laugh and tell stories of our college days. That’s what Homecoming is about now. Friends. Football. Stories. Laughing. Catching up on life.

And it doesn’t matter that I don’t have a new suit or shoes to wear.

###

Filed under: Tennessee Tech University | Tagged: shoes, Tennessee Tech Homecoming | Leave a comment »

Birthday Memories

Posted on October 30, 2015 by susanrray

My baby girl celebrated her birthday last week. Seems she grew up, went away to college, taught school, married, birthed babies – all in a flash of time. Even though she’s a mother, she’s still my girl.

Daughter was Husband’s and my first child. To take her home from the hospital, I dressed her in a frilly pink outfit with a white lace collar. The top barely covered her belly and the plastic lined bloomers were much too big over her cloth diaper. I swaddled her in a pink blanket and tied the ribbon attached to her white eyelet bonnet under her chin. The thirty-minute ride to our home seemed long. She cried. No doubt she was hot, uncomfortable, and unhappy strapped in an infant seat. I rocked and cuddled as soon as we were home. I didn’t want to put her down.

For her first birthday, Daughter had a three-layer cake, frosted with white icing and decorated with pink and purple and yellow flowers. She wore a white and blue bubble suit and no shoes. I set her on the kitchen table right beside the cake and encourage her to dig in. She smeared icing on her hair, face, clothes, and even her toes. And she smiled and laughed and babbled and entertained all who watched – grandparents, aunts, uncles, Husband and me.

Tennessee Tech’s homecoming coincided with her 5^th birthday and Tech’s parade was just for her. She shook purple and gold shakers, gathered a bucketful of candy thrown by people riding on floats, and high-fived with Awesome Eagle.

When Daughter was ten, she planned her party, a skating party at the roller rink. With her friends, she skated for hours as I watched and silently prayed that no one would get hurt. They raced and chased each other. Skated on one skate. Held hands and slung the last person off the long whip. Thankfully, there were no broken bones or serious bruises. Not even for us grown ups, wearing skates, as we hugged the wall to stay out of the way. We ate pizza and strawberry cake, and then skated more. Great fun for kids.

Then came her 16th birthday when Daughter’s friends threw a surprise pizza party. I was happy they loved her enough to celebrate, and my only contribution was to order an ice cream cake from Baskin Robbins. One of Daughter’s friends picked up the cake and since they didn’t have knife, and didn’t ask for one at Pizza Hut, they set the cake in the middle of the table and all dug in with their forks.

During her college years, I mailed cards and gifts, wished her happy birthday over the phone and sent silly emails. And I realized that Daughter was as I’d prayed she’d be – an independent woman.

Last year Daughter’s husband and children planned a big celebration. They invited friends and served a catered meal. Guests laughed at pictures of past birthday celebrations.

In recent birthday pictures, Daughter isn’t alone. Ten years ago, she held her firstborn in her arms. Last week, her five children surrounded her and together they blew out the candles on her cake. The youngest, age 17 months, cried. Maybe it was the off key singing or the loud noise. I snapped a picture and then comforted Daughter’s baby boy and hoped no one noticed that I wiped his tears and then mine.

Children become adults much too fast.

Filed under: Birthday | Tagged: children grow up fast, daughter's birthday | 2 Comments »

TTU Centennial Exhibit and Shinny Ninny

Posted on October 22, 2015 by susanrray

Have you seen the Tennessee Tech Centennial Exhibit at the Cookeville History Museum? If not, get on downtown, right beside the Putnam County Library on Broad Street, and take a stroll through the last century.

Vicky, the museum’s volunteer, and I reminisced about the many artifacts and pictures on display. One caught my eye. A totem pole. “That’s not the real Shinny Ninny!” I said.

“No, that’s a replica,” said Vicky. I knew it was a fake – it’s too small and looks happy. Shinny Ninny is big and fierce. I know because I slept with him, or rather, Shinny Ninny stood in the corner of Husband’s and my bedroom.

Fall, 1969. Husband and I had been married three months. He was a Tech senior and president of ASB, Associated Student Body. One night when I was sound asleep in our two-room apartment, I was awakened by the sound of our front door opening. Husband was returning from a student government meeting. He didn’t come inside immediately, and when he finally stuck his head in our bedroom doorway he said, “I brought something to keep here until the ballgame.”

The ballgame. A football game between Tech and that team in Murfreesboro that wears blue uniforms. I knew the game he meant, but I was shocked when he lugged Shinny Ninny into our bedroom and propped him in the only vacant bedroom corner. Just a few feet from our bed and partially blocking the bathroom door.

“Why?” I asked.

“So no one will steal him,” Husband said. No one, meaning students from Middle, aka Middle Tennessee State Teachers College.

In 1960, the student body presidents of Tennessee Tech and Middle had decided there should be a winner’s trophy to show the rivalry between the two schools. Mr. Fred Harvey, owner of Harvey’s department store in Nashville, donated a fierce looking, Native American, fifty-year-old pole that he’d bought in Alaska.

The winner of the annual football game kept the totem pole until the next year’s game. Middle named the pole Harvey, but Tech students chose a different name. One based on the antics of Tech football player Joe Mac Jacques who flopped himself onto the ground and threw a fit, also called a shin-a-ninny, on the sidelines when Tech scored. So Tech called him Shinny Ninny.

Because the rivalry between the two schools was intense, kidnapping became part of the totem pole tradition. Shinny Ninny was in danger of being abducted from a glass case in the Tech student union. Husband and other student leaders were determined to keep the trophy secure.

What better place to hide a 6-foot totem pole than in a student’s bedroom? At least, that’s what Husband thought. And I loved keeping that secret. Shinny Ninny went missing from campus for about a week, and every morning as I brushed my teeth, I studied his evil eyes, white furrowed brows, sharp long nose, toothy frown, smooth brown wood, white markings. On game day, Tech students proudly carried Shinny Ninny onto the playing field before the opening kickoff. And Tech players hoisted Shinny high and carried him off the field after beating Middle, 21 – 7.

The totem pole tradition ended in 1998 when Middle moved to a different athletic division. Now Shinny Ninny sits inside a locked glass enclosure in Middle’s Hall of Fame building. Poor thing.

The Tennessee Tech Centennial Exhibit will be displayed only through November 7. Wednesday- Saturday, 10:00 a.m. – 4:00 p.m. You don’t want to miss it. Even though you won’t see the real Shinny Ninny.

Filed under: Tennessee Tech University | Tagged: Cookeville History Museum, rivalry, shinny ninny, Tennessee Tech University | Leave a comment »

Big Rubber Ducky

Posted on October 15, 2015 by susanrray

Lou, age 8, spent the night with Husband and me, and the next morning she and I sat at the kitchen table eating breakfast. We had talked about her plans for the day, and then she asked, “What are you going to do today, Gran?”

“Write the first draft of next week’s column, but I’m not sure what I’ll write about. I hate that. I have some ideas, but none that I’m excited to write,” I said.

Lou immediately held her hands wide apart and said, “Write about the big rubber ducky!” I laughed. My older Grands, ages 6, 8, and 10, have teased me about a rubber duck I bought for all my Grands to play with when they take a bath at my house.

“Oh, Lou, I don’t think there’s enough about the rubber ducky for a column. What would I write?” And then my Gran began talking and told me to get paper and write it down. So here’s the big rubber ducky story from Lou’s point of view.

“Well, Gran,” Lou said, “You came to our house and said that you just bought two rubber duckies. One big. One small. And you held your hands two feet apart.” She held her hands far apart. “And I said, ‘That’s one big duck!’ And you nodded your head.”

“Then a couple of days later Ruth (her six-year-old sister) and I came to spend the night and it was time to take a bath and I asked, ‘Where’s the B I G rubber ducky?’ and you got that little old ducky out from under the sink.” My Grand giggled, and I held my hand up for her to stop talking so I could write.

Lou looked out the kitchen window and said, “Gran, does all of this have to be true?” I tried to explain poetic license.

After a silent minute, Lou continued, “Okay, so Ruth said, ‘You call that big! That’s the smallest duck ever.’ And I said, ‘To my calculations that isn’t anything close to two feet long!’ Write it just like that Gran.”

Lou held her hands far apart and then slowly moved them together until they almost touched. As her hands moved her eyes widened. I asked, “Lou, are you sure you said that?”

“Well, probably. Cause it’s true.” My Grand grinned, ducked her head, and giggled. “Gran, will you write it like that? You told us it was two feet long and it’s just a normal old rubber ducky.”

Let me explain. I think I held my hands about a body width apart when I said that I’d bought two rubber ducks. My Grands assumed I was showing them the big ducky’s size when I was simply gesturing as if giving a gift. The big rubber duck is only six inches long. The little one, four inches.

After Lou’s and Ruth’s visit when they first saw the ducks, they told their family the actual sizes. So the next time David, age 10, visited, he went straight to the bathroom. “I want to see that rubber duck that’s so big it barely fits in the bathtub,” my Grand said. He held it in his hands. “Gran, you really think this is two feet long?” He shook his head and grinned.

My Grands are having fun teasing me. I just hope they never find a two-foot rubber ducky for sale. It wont’ fit under my bathroom sink.

And thank you, Lou, for writing this column.

###

Filed under: Grandchildren, Kids Say Funny Things | Tagged: rubber duck, rubber ducky | Leave a comment »

Playground Build Goes On

Posted on October 8, 2015 by susanrray

Because it rained for five straight days last week, the building of the Heart of the City Playground in Dogwood Park was slowed, but never stopped. Hundreds of volunteers did their best. Wet. Muddy. Tired. Dirty. They kept working and it wasn’t their fault, but the playground wasn’t completed by Sunday night as scheduled. So it’ll be finished this weekend: Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.

One man was amazed by what happened last week. Doug was the lead contractor from the playground construction company, Leathers and Associates. Sunday afternoon when I talked with him, he said, “This community did great. People hung in and persevered. Like that first afternoon when rain poured down and we started setting poles, it’s atypical to have people who stay. They didn’t leave. And others came. ”

Doug has led many playground-building projects throughout the United States and in foreign countries. I asked, “So have you encountered weather like this during other builds?”

“Yes, and I’ve been in places when it got down to six people. Not here. People stayed and more came. All week. It’s an incredible community! You should be proud. I am,” Doug said.

“And I’m really proud of the young people who are the leaders this project,” I said.

“You should be. Great young leaders.”

Virginia Kirby is one of those leaders, captain of the art committee, which is responsible for all the decorative designs to be attached to the playground equipment. Those volunteers have worked outside under tents and inside buildings, as space permitted. Like others, who worked 12-14 hour days, Virginia was exhausted, but she met a woman who kept her going.

Virginia posted her story on Facebook and allowed me to share it. “Up for the sixth day of the hardest week of my life. I’m about to put on overalls that are still damp from yesterday. My feet are throbbing. It would be so easy to go back to bed and just say that I’ve given enough of myself already. But I met a mother in the dinner line. She was muddy up to her thighs, having spent hours outside on the worksite. I felt guilty that I was clean and explained how art had to move inside so the paint would dry. She said she could only work one shift because it was hard to find a babysitter. She explained that her four-year-old son has seizures, uses a wheelchair, and had recent surgery. This playground will be the first place for him to really play. She wanted to do anything she could to help, even move mud by the shovelful from one place to another in the pouring rain. That way she could be part of giving her son a playground he can use.

“So, if you’re wondering why we are out in the very cold rain for fourteen hours each day; why we don’t just give up and say it’s not worth being that uncomfortable–that’s why. This playground means a lot to me, but it will mean everything to some families.”

Round two of playground building is Friday, October 9, 5:30 p.m. – 8:00 p.m. Saturday 8:00 a.m. – 8:00 p.m. and Sunday 8:00 a.m. – 5:00 p.m. Kelly Swallows, one of the playground co-chairman, said, “We especially need strong arms and skilled laborers. And other workers, too. If you can come out, please do!”

I’m not surprised that work never stopped. I’m proud of the volunteers who worked one four-hour shift and those who worked day after day. And I’m sure workers will show up this weekend. Cookeville is an incredible community.

Filed under: Playground | Tagged: build, Heart of the City Playground, Playground | Leave a comment »

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