Another "Only in Arkansas" moment

There is something about small towns that can be so fun.  We went to the high school football game on Friday night.  Perfect football weather.  Cool and crisp.  The stands were full.  People support the kids here.  They have fun traditions.  Here after every home team touchdown, the cheerleaders drop on the track and do as many push ups as the score.  Poor girls.  The score Friday night was 45-35.  I'm sure those girls were exhausted.

This also game me another chapter in "Only in Arkansas".   The sports announcer started talking about "Cow Chip Bingo".   HUH?   New one for me!   The guy next to me was surprised that I didn't know what this was.  (Go figure!)   So anyway, you buy a square on a scoreboard.   I have no idea how many there are, but I imagine there are quite a few.  Then they take the baseball field and grid it off in corresponding squares.   Next is the great part!   They bring in a COW and let him loose on the field.  The owner of the square where the cow makes poo (moo-poo, I guess) will be the winner of $1500.  I kid you not.   He says that the announcer will give updates during the game ie. "No winner yet."  "The cow hasn't gone yet."   Isn't that hysterical?   Only in Arkansas!

Later.

The Help: the movie and my truth

The Help.     Have you read it?  Have you seen the movie?  Did you love both?  I certainly did.  It’s now one of my favorite movies.

Movies set in the 60’s are so fun for me.  Not exactly the Beach Blanket Bingo types, although they are fun, too.  I love to see the ones that show the inside of the homes and the popular things of the time.  I was a little girl then.   It’s fun to go back and remember things of childhood.  How things looked; what we did; what we ate, how we entertained. Looking at the set from The Help, I saw things that were in my parent’s home.  Familiar things:  metal TV trays with flowers painted on them, black & white televisions, cat-eyed eyeglasses with rhinestones.  I never had glasses back then but boy did I want them.   

I was also very aware of all the cigarette smoking in the movie.  Back then, it was an accepted thing.  There were ashtrays everywhere.  We had some in our house.  My dad smoked a pipe but he was the only one that lived in our house that smoked.  People would come over and never think anything about lighting up.  I remember cleaning the ashtrays afterwards and thinking how much they smelled, but we would have never asked someone not to light up.  That was the way it was at the time.  It was an accepted thing in homes and at work.  We didn’t make special place for them to smoke; we put ashtrays all over so that it would be convenient for them.  We were more concerned about ashes on the floor and furniture.   News reporters always smoked.  It made them look more serious and smart.  (We thought.)  Beautiful girls in gowns and in clubs always smoked and sometimes had a long cigarette holder.  It made them look sophisticated and sexy.  (We thought.)

The Help also brought to the forefront, and sometimes uncovered, the relationships of households and “their help”.  It is probably good for us to be reminded of how far we have come.  In every society, there have been injustices that will be or have been corrected as we become more sensitive and aware of the issues.  Lots of sympathetic tears were shed as we watched characters that we got to know and appreciate be treated as lesser human beings.  I cried.  Me, a Southerner that grew up with a wonderful lady coming into our home a few days a week to “help”.  Did she raise me?  No.  Did we build her a separate toilet?   No way.  I presumed she used the only one in our home.  I don’t know.  Never thought about it.  Did I love her?  Yes.  She was a fun, happy person with a great smile who was in my life.  I followed her around and was reminded many, many times by my mother to stay out of her way.  Did I consider her our maid, housekeeper, help, lesser person?  She was Callie.  Just Callie.  She came to my house and I loved her.  We also had a black man that worked at my daddy’s business for many years.  He was actually a very respected pastor in the largest colored church in the area.  My dad and he talked “Bible” all the time.  They were good friends with a mutual respect.  Still, they were on different paths.

My point is to just put out there a little disclaimer about the movie.  While the behavior of the families depicted was appalling and inexcusable, some of these relationships were “just the way it was”.  My parents would never treat anyone that way no matter their job and would have totally punished me if I had.  Still, it was an accepted fact then that black men and women generally worked for white people.   Sadly, these were the roles we were put in just by the color of our skin.  I remember “colored” restrooms and “colored” water fountains.  Blacks were directed to them just as we would direct people to the men’s room or ladies’ room.  As a white girl, I never thought about that they couldn’t use our facilities.  It was just that the other was theirs.  The thing is that generally, and as far I knew, most black people accepted that as theirs, too.  Black children had to question why things were separate, but for the most part, they were taught just like the white kids, that they just were.  I can’t imagine how they felt.  Still, we were operating in total ignorance.  One generation teaches the next until it is finally questioned and change happens.  That generation wasn’t made up of bad people; just black and white people both acting and living by the guidelines of that time.

So, read the book and go see the movie.  I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.   It’s an important story told very well.  Although a fictional story, similar things really did happen and were really, really wrong.  But just as in our ignorance about smoking and its effect, know that for the most part, this was the accepted standard that was in place at the time.    We should have all had the questioning of “Skeeter” in us and the bravery of “Aibileen”.

I (heart) pink - Part 2.

After baseball today, Hubby, my 23 and 13 year old sons and my son's friend (also 13) wanted to go to a pizza/game place.  The guys were running around playing lazer tag and winning tickets off of games like little kids.  They came back to the table with huge grins to show me that they each had a "I (heart) boobies" bracelet on.  They had them over at the prize counter.  Sometimes you just can't win.  Oh well.  Guess it's my job now to make sure the 13 year old boys are educated as to what the bracelets all stand for. 

As far my 23 year old,  well, he just likes boobies.

Later.

I (heart) pink.

Thought you might enjoyed a conversation between my son and I the other day.

Son:  Mom, I want to buy a wristband that says "I (heart) Boobies".
Me:   What?  No. 
Son:  But Mo-o-o-om!  It's just to support breast cancer awareness.
Me:  You're 13.  You will have to show your support another way.  Wear pink.

Sorry.  I just couldn't handle that one.   He may have wanted to help as one of his teachers from last year does have breast cancer.  But he is a 13 year old, walking, talking, raging male hormone.  I'm not totally buying his "awareness" reason.

Besides, he looks really good in pink.   Let him wear pink.

Later.

Here's my "Where were you at on 9/11" story.

Tuesday, September 11, 2001.   A beautiful early fall day.   Clear skies.    I drove my happy, almost 4 year old to preschool.   I usually attended a Bible class at our church on Tuesday mornings, but this day, I decided that I really didn’t feel like it.   I treated myself to a sausage biscuit and headed home.  The car radio was on and the announcer was rattling about something happening.  They were obviously confused to the details and I didn’t know if something was happening locally or where.  I flipped on the little kitchen TV to “Good Morning America” as I sat down to have breakfast.   As people did everywhere, I stared at the screen in disbelief.  They kept showing film of Tower 1 on fire.   They said that a plane hit it.  I wondered if the pilot was ill.  How could this “accident” happen?  Then they showed film of the plane actually hitting the tower.  Only this wasn’t a film but live TV showing the second plane hitting the other tower.  Huh?   How could two planes go off course like that?  Terrorists really didn’t enter my mind.  This is the United States.  That stuff doesn’t happen there. 

I sat there and watched for a little while.  I called my husband who had started a new job that day.  (Ironically, he was hired to work on government accounts.  The events of this day changed that plan and he would soon be laid off.)   Then it came over me that I wanted to go to our church.  I felt drawn to be with there for comfort.  I didn’t know if anyone would be there or if they would be there and not know what was going on.   The place was full.   We talked, we prayed; we cried, and we prayed some more.   A television was brought into an adjoining room and some watched and kept us apprised as we did all that we could.  We got on our knees and prayed for about 1-1/2 to 2 hours.  We heard about the Pentagon.  I have a niece, nephew and cousin in DC.  Everyone seemed to know someone.    Then we heard that there was an airplane in the air that was not responding and that there were orders to shoot it down.   Huh?  What about all of those innocent people?  What’s going on here?

I left there and did what mother’s do.  I wanted my chicks close to me.   I went to preschool and picked up my little one.  I went by my other son’s school to check on him.  He was doing fine and I made the decision that it would be more disruptive to him to take him out early.  I went home and parked in front of the television watching the same videos over and over.  In the days that followed, there would be psychologists telling parents to limit the media that their children were exposed to.  I was already there myself from media overload and feeling depressed.  I kept seeing the people looking for their loved ones and putting myself in their place.  There was also the reality that there would be nothing for some of these people to find.

This was one of those days that change how we go forward.  Our comfort zone was invaded.  We felt helpless and small.   In those days, we are reminded that we are not in charge.  God is.  The devil may be attacking, but God is still in charge.  We need to trust and keep focused.  Just a reminder.

It happened 10 years ago.

September 11, 2001, aka 9/11.   So famous, or maybe infamous, that you don't even have to say the whole date.  Kind of like Cher, Madonna, Ga-Ga....yet VERY different.  A day that changed the world as we knew it.  For Americans, it was very personal.  THEY came here.  THEY attacked US on our homeland.  We lost our innocence.  We lost our comfort zone.  Other countries saw that if it could happen here, it could also happen to them.   Just for a moment, the world seemed to stand still as we collectively held our breath; lost as to what would happen next.

The marvels of technology immediately brought this all into our homes.  Most of us were eye witnesses.  I remember watching the second plane hit and thinking it was a video of the first.   We heard the stories of valor and bravery.  Everyday people were suddenly leaders and heroes.  (John 15:13, "Greater love has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends.")   We heard the stories of a "destiny" changed  due to stopping at a drug store, missing a train, a child's first day of kindergarten.   We cried in sympathy for the loved ones lost.  We grieved for the children to come that would never feel the touch of Daddy.  The stories became known and personal to us.

Our daily lives changed.  Travelling will never be the same.  Agencies such as "Homeland Security" were formed.  Boarding an airplane took more time and got more complicated.  Suddenly, we were ultra aware of people around us; especially if they did not look like us.  Companies closed or scaled down due to uncertainty.  People lost jobs.  Commodities became more expensive.  Along with "stranger danger" and "stop, drop and roll", children learned of terrorists and not to use the word "bomb" on an airplane.    

Yes, the world changed that day.  So did we.  Actually, I hope that we never go back to where we once were.  We need to remember.  Along with the reality of all the horrors of those days, a new America was born.  Flag waving, proud Americans.  ONE nation under God.  Our flag suddenly looked a little brighter, more beautiful and a little more precious.  You will not hold us down.  Let's Roll!" was a new mantra.  We became just a little more proud and aware of the men and women who bravely serve in our military.  Have you ever stopped someone in a military uniform and thanked them for their service?  I have.  I don't remember doing that much before but now I just have to give them my meager "this will never be enough of a thank you for your service".

We have to remember lessons learned.  Such as ALWAYS remember to say "I love you". Don't take for granted that we will have lots of chances to.   Disasters can bring out the best in people.  Ten years ago, New York was flooded with people wanting to stand shoulder to shoulder with them to help.  That attitude needs to continue.  Our children need to see and learn from our example.  We are not by ourselves.  Be kind.   Be smart.  Be proud.   WE MUST NEVER FORGET.

Later.

My friend has cancer.

My friend has the big "C". Challenge? Confusion? Cause? Crusade? Crud? Cowlick? Yes to all, except maybe cowlick. My friend has cancer. Not the words that anyone wants to hear. But what do you do? Cry? Of course. Be sad and then mad. Yep! Talk it out with friends and family to try to make sense of this and then comfort and encourage them? That's what we do. We are women...hear us roar. We may bitch a little, or a lot. But YES, we roar.

My friend is a beautiful woman. Will she lose the eyes that have such a beautiful vision of the world? No. Will she lose the ears that listen to others wanting to understand their position? Seriously? She's not a squeeze toy that the eyes pop out when the pressure is on.  She's a woman.

Will she lose her sense of humor? Probably some days. She is such a positive person, that I don't expect it to be many. Besides, she has a host of strange friends to keep her smiling. How can you not smile. We love her. Besides, she's a woman. That's what she does.

Will she lose that beautiful "longer" hair? 'Fraid so. But you know, I hear bald is the new black. (Boy was that lame! Sorry.) Anyway, scarves are totally chic now days and wow is there a beautiful selection. Don't forget wigs! Black women have rocked them for years. You can always go check out the Kim Zolciak line of wigs. (If you don't know who that is, check out the "Real Housewives of Atlanta". Just don't copy her boob job. Please!) Personally, I have always loved seeing women just go au naturelle with their heads though. They look beautiful and strong and free. Besides, bald is beautiful. Why should only the men get the good stuff. Bald IS beautiful. Recognize this beautiful head?

Will she lose a breast?  Yep.  A friend of mine has a t-shirt that says "Save the Ta-Ta's".   Wonder if we could find one that reads "Save the Ta-Ta"?  I'm just talking out loud here.  Boobs are so over rated.  For goodness sake.  You also call a stupid person a "boob".   Have you ever been running on the beach and have those things bouncing up and down?   Me neither, but I bet it hurts.   I have sat in the massage chair while getting a pedicure and looked down to see the glands shaking like Jello.  Not attractive. 

Anywho, this woman is a hero.   Not because she has cancer right now.  That part sucks.  But because she is smart, strong, healthy and a spitfire.   She will soon be past this and encouraging and helping other women on this journey.  She's a Christian, wife, mother, daughter, sister and faithful friend.  Yep, my friend has cancer.   But that doesn't define her.

Later.