Little Brown Church

Little Brown Church in the Wildwood

(sketch)

8.5" x 11"

pencil

"Now, open your hymnals and let's all sing, 'The Little Brown Church in the Wildwood'." The preacher announced the page number as Mama started playing the introduction on the organ. The congregation seemed to swish in unison as everyone stood up in the pews and the pages rustled as pages were turned all over the church.

I looked for the songs in the bulletin and on the board in the front of the church, and turned the pages back and forth until I finally found the song. I was a little sweaty with panic, worrying that I wouldn't be able to find the right page before the song was over. I could read, but not as fast as the grownups, or so I thought.

There. I found the page as everyone started to sing.

"Oh, come, come, come, come." The repitition reminded me of a march, with the drums drumming.

I could hear Daddy's deep voice coming from the back pews of the church, along with Herman in the choir near Mama and the organ. I could hear "Toot" beside me, with her deep voice, and Miss Mildred who stood in front of us, but toward the center aisle. And, of course, Joe Bill's distinctive voice as he usually led us at Sunday School. Over everyone, Miss Imogine's operatic soprano voice soared through the building. Everyone else blended in, and even harmonized appropriately.

This day, I picked "Toot" and "Honey" to sit with during church. Barbara was probably sitting with "Pappy" and Uncle Tom". We rotated who we sat with while Mama played the organ. We couldn't sit together or we would soon be squirming, pushing, pinching, squabbling, and had to be separated. Grandma had quit coming to church since she was deaf and couldn't hear anymore. They tried all sorts of hearing aids for her, but none really worked. The shrill noise as she tried to adjust it was earsplitting to everyone around her, but she couldn't hear it. So, she stayed at home.

If church was really crowded, or if some of the family was not at church that day, I might sit with Daddy on one of the two back pews. This was where a group of men sat. Usually, Grandpa and Irvin were also there, and sometimes, Uncle Tom, if "Pappy" were not at church for some reason. Mr. McMillan sat there, and several others. The men took up the collection and were ushers. But, when the sermon started, it become the snoring section. The men fell asleep and had a nice nap until Mama started playing the organ and woke them.

To make us behave, when we had to sit with the men, Daddy or Uncle Tom would provide us with Smith Brothers cough drops. Daddy would occupy himself with counting. He used the bulletin to write down the number of people present for Sunday School and for church, counted those there, wrote down the collection amounts. And he kept all of those, for years.

"Toot" was kind of a "cut up". She would show us how to make things out of the tin foil gum wrappers. (Of course, we couldn't chew gum in church, but we could find a wrapper saved in a purse, just for such occasions.) A goblet was the favorite thing to create with the foil.

She also showed us how to do "Here's the church, here's the steeple." And then we would pass that on to the younger kids near us. Something we could do without saying anything.

"Toot's" gold bracelet and compact, and her purse, often entertained me through church services.

Eventually, I learned to read the back of the hymnal. And, after I was grown, they added a Bible at each place along with the Sunday School and Church hymnals. I would read the announcements in the bulletin several times, but there usually were not that many. Also the devotional on the back of the bulletin was sometimes of interest. But too much reading, and I would be asleep like the men in the back.

I wish that I had thought of drawing but it wasn't a good thing to have a pencil or pen out in church. People would expect that you were going to damage the wooden pews or mark in a hymnal. So, I drew with my eyes! I outlined around the stained glass windows, the pews, the box by the door that held the speakers for the organ, the pulpit, the altar, the posts.

One day, I had been doing that, while sitting with the choir, and, after church, a lady came up to compliment us on the music. She told me that my eyes just danced while I was in the choir. I thought that, maybe, I would have to tone down my drawing with my eyes, and try to look at the preacher or my music. But, if I did that, I would surely fall asleep too!

As we grew older, we would sit with our friends from school and Sunday School class, or sit in the choir, where everyone could watch us.

This particular Sunday, as we sang "Little Brown Church in the Wildwood", I tugged on "Toot's dress.

"Toot", is that our church that we are singing about?" I whispered.

"Toot" kept singing and nodded at me to be quiet and sing.

I sang a little and imagined a small church, out in the woods, painted brown.

But, that didn't make sense to me. We were in a brown church, so did someone in our congregation, or maybe a long ago member, write that song about our church? If not, who did? And why? What was the church that they were writing about? What did it look like? Where was it? Was it a church that people went to before this one was built? Or was it just an imaginary church?

Why were we singing about a little church when we were in a big church, Sneed Memorial Methodist Church in Calvert? One that was brown, but brown brick. One that looked like a castle, not a cozy, small country church.

Maybe, if they were writing about our church, the author thought that this was a small church compared to those in large cities.

Were they writing about a tiny church, like the ones that we made with our hands? Or maybe a church made of logs?

So many questions and no answers, I thought. I just kept imagining that church and the woods, and wondered about it every time we sang the song.

The drawing above is a sketch of my memories of the times that I sat with "Toot" and "Honey" at church. I haven't added in other church members as it is kind of small, and I didn't want to cover my primary subjects. The little brown church that I envisioned is floating in the front of us, much the way that I saw it.

Interestingly, the little church I imagined, looks a lot like the one where one set of great-grandparents went in Tennessee. A place that I never saw until I started corresponding with the author of "Mechanicsville". She has some wonderful pictures in her book! One difference is that pictures I have seen of the Short Mountain Methodist Church do not show woods around it.

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At the top of the page, I have added a link to SHIFT, that will let you hear some of their music. They will be at Texas Scottish Festival next weekend. Hope you enjoy their music and be able to go to Arlington for the big Festival.

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Also, under MUSIC in my sidebar, you will see links to Ruthie Foster, who is from this area. And another link to Big Otis, who will be appearing at the Texas Reds Festival June 21. You can hear some of their music on their links. Enjoy!

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Nap Time

Nap Time

8.5" x 11"

pencil

A quiet afternoon, sun shining through the blinds, air conditioner humming as it cools the air. Soft music playing behind the drone of voices from an old movie, turned down low, on the tv set. Cats finding their places on the bed, ready for a nap, and resting up to play all night.

A loose fitting dress that barely touches the body.

No shoes to put added pressure on the feet.

Hair tumbling across a ruffled pillow.

Smooth sheets and a fluffy comforter to support and enfold the body.

No rush to go to school or work, to get a job done.

The eyes close as the head falls forward, then jerks up, only to fall again.

Everything can wait.

Sleep.

An afternoon of sleep.

Naptime.

One aloof cat stays out of reach, but her cold nose touches my feet. She does not like to be held or touched, but she stays close. This is her place at the foot of the bed.

A younger cat is also aloof and a bit wild. He doesn't want to be held or touched. He stays close, but just out of reach. He waits until he thinks I am asleep to curl up behind my knees.

The ruler of the house, insists on sharing my pillow. He likes to be held and loved. His place is at the head of the bed, near my shoulders.

They have their morning naps, their afternoon naps, their evening naps, and start out to sleep at bedtime. But, just wait until the wee morning hours. Then they are wide awake and into everything!

How good it is, to be able to take an afternoon nap! Like the cats, I'll be wide awake to play all night!

My great-grandfather lived to be 94. Part of his daily ritual was to go home from his store to have dinner at noon, followed by a 15 minute nap. He also had a daily walk.

And he ate well. Not diet food, but real food. A dozen eggs for breakfast, with ham, sausage, or bacon, oatmeal, biscuits, jelly, butter, coffee with real cream, the works! And he was a small framed man. Didn't do heavy work like plowing, as people like farmers did. He was a cobbler, then had a grocery store.

The nap sounds like a good idea, but, the trouble with that is that, once I finally get to sleep, I can't wake up so fast. If I wake up after just a short nap, I don't feel rested at all, but, instead, I'm jittery and tired.

I didn't like to take naps as a child, being forced to do it. Again, if I was going to sleep, I had to stay that way for a while. Listening to the hum of a fan, or the drone of airplanes, or going for a ride in a car, was a pretty sure way to get me to sleep.

But, when I could read to my children at nap time, you know who fell asleep first! Me!

Those of you who are out of school now, will probably put sleeping late or taking a nap to catch up on lost sleep, at the top of your list of things to do.

I hope that you get a good nap this weekend!

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Madonna and Child

Madonna and Child

Sculpture Idea

8" x 10"

Acrylic on Paper

The full moon shines on a cold winter night, like tonight, casting cool light and shadows on stone. Perhaps in a cemetery? A park? Or even floating in the night?

I thought of this piece as a rounded stone, carved just enough to hint at a mother holding a baby. Or, possibly, it could be done in clay with just a hint of blue glaze to give it the feeling of cold moonlight falling over it.

I like to do sculpture, with my hands, touching the clay and modeling it by feel. I haven't tried to carve in stone but I don't think that I would like it as much as I do the soft clay. That's funny because, before I started doing some clay heads, I hated getting my hands, and everything else, dirty. I think that it really helped me to be able to get better form into my two dimensional work.

Creating those large heads of 25 to 50 pounds of clay was an exciting project. Unfortunately, my strength has waned, and I can't do all the lifting and pounding required to work clay, and I no longer have access to a kiln. So, I have to think in terms of something smaller like papier mache, or some sort of other material. I have quite a few ideas for sculpture that I would like to complete, one of these days.

Since it is now Christmas Day, I thought that my "Madonna and Child", with a moonlit night, would be appropriate to share. On Christmas Eve, my youngest grandson and I watched the full moon rise, and he was excited to spy a planet that he had been hearing about. I'm not sure it it was Mars or Saturn as I had not heard about it.

When I painted this, I thought of the old cemetery where my son, and much of my family is buried. A beautiful park-like place near the home that I grew up in. I thought of monuments in the moonlight, over the lawn where so many now rest. A place that is still and quiet, except for the occasional rustling in the branches of ancient trees as night creatures prowl about.

We took our Mock Stained Glass Windows over to the nursing home and showed them to my aunt Christmas Eve afternoon. The sun was pouring in through the big windows in the dining room where we opened our gifts and enjoyed cookies and cold drinks. As we were holding them up to the light, I discovered that, by placing the angel over the star window, I had a completely different, and very interesting design. The rays from the star and the overlapping colors and shapes broke the angel design down even more and created more colors. That was kind of fun. My grandson didn't want to leave the windows there, so we brought them home. My aunt doesn't have a window in her room, so she wouldn't be able to enjoy the window. There isn't enough room to even hang all her Christmas cards, so I guess the windows are going to go in my own windows, or they may go in with all the other things that I am saving, created by my grandson.

Today we will have Christmas dinner with red roast and red gravy and a small ham. My daughter is cooking. She baked an orange cake and a chocolate cake for dessert last night. The orange cake still will not come out of the Bundt pan! We may have to put icing on it in the pan, and dig it out with a spoon! I thought sure that gravity would eventually take care of it, so it is still upside down on a plate. We both tried using knives to loosen the sides, but it is still stuck. I think it is a little too sticky. It seems done inside, according to the toothpick test, but, to touch it, it is really sticky.

Then the grandsons will open their gifts and we will all go back to see my aunt at the nursing home for the afternoon.

It is so different from the Christmases of the past, with a large family around. We always wanted more children around, though, since my sister and I were the children. We couldn't wait to get out and play with our friends.

My family had the dry goods store, and other men in the family had grocery stores. They stayed open as late as there were customers on the street. As the years passed, that time became earlier and earlier, so that, by supper time, the stores were closed and everyone came to our house for the Christmas tree. People came to town to buy, even in wagons, and they stayed around to socialize or to go to church the next day.

When I was growing up, the family worked at the stores on busy days. Even the kids helped out. And other people were hired to help wait on customers. We had to cashier, wait on customers, put things on the books, gift wrap, stock, put price tags on merchandise, decorate the show windows, sweep, dust, clean the restrooms, and watch for shoplifters. My favorite things were to decorate the show windows and to gift wrap. But, it was a little nerve shattering, being told to not use too much ribbon or too much tape, or paper, or string on packages. I was interested in creating a really nice looking package, but some customers just wanted their packages fast and didn't care if they had fancy ribbons or not. We made a kind of a loop out of ribbon and taped it, with a card on top. Another method was to make something that looked a bit like a man's tie, to me. And there were several strips of ribbon brought from the back side to the front, the cut in points at different lengths. Those were good for stacking on top of each other, or for mailing. And then there were bows. We didn't have to make most of them, we bought them in a big package. Or, each year, at our Christmas tree, we all saved our bows and paper to be used again at the store.

After the stores closed, a weary crew went to our house to have the family Christmas tree. It was really hard to wait for Santa, when it got to be really late. But, the store came first. Once everyone gathered, Santa made his way from the garage to the front porch with any special gifts, like bikes or wagons, or doll buggies and little tables and chairs. "Look what Santa left out here!" Daddy would tell us. "I thought I heard him!" he would add.

"I heard him, too!" others would say, trying to make us believe.

One Christmas, Santa brought my sister the pair of cowboy boots she always wanted. We were still pretty small then. My sister would not take off her cowboy boots, for days, and even slept in them, and I wouldn't move my dolls over. We shared a three quarter size bed, so it was pretty crowded in bed. And, then, the cats joined us! But, those cowboy boots. I can feel them still. They had sharp pointed toes, and were really stiff, especially in my back! She loved those boots!

We usually got things like underwear from the store, and a thread box with dollar bills in it. (No fancy wrapping for the family. But, they didn't have time to shop, they said, and so they just put the money into an empty thread box, and gave that out while presents were being passed out.) Mama, and one great-aunt always made sure that we got some nice clothes, toys, and books.

While the great-aunts were receiving things like jewelry, or furniture, or pieces to their crystal, china, or silver patterns, Daddy gave my mother gifts that just upset her. She just clenched her teeth, and held her little presents, and everyone said that he should be ashamed of himself. Of course, he laughed and thought it was so funny. He gave gifts like a Lady Gillette double edge razor and a slop jar. You may remember that happened in "All In The Family" on tv, when Archie Bunker gave Edith her own razor. Well, my dad did it years before that! His sense of humor.

The men all got things like pajamas, shirts, ties, cuff links and tie clasps-things that stayed in their boxes and were saved. Long after they died, we are still finding boxes of things that were gifts that were saved. One thought was that they would save the good things in case they should ever have to go to the hospital.

At our family Christmas tree, we would always have some sort of refreshments, cookies, cake, tuna fish sandwiches and potato chips, and, if it was cold, Mama would make hot chocolate. In later years, when you could buy it in the store, we added egg nog to the menu. One year, my great-aunt, who lived across the street, brought over some Mogan David wine in her mother's lead crystal decanter. Her sister in law had served them wind during a visit, and she wanted to do the same. The other great-aunt acted shocked. Everyone refused the wine except my uncle and I. We asked my grandmother if she wanted some wine and we thought she said she did. However, Grandma was deaf and had hardening of the arteries. When she came to the Christmas tree that night, all she wanted to do was to go home because her babies were there. She couldn't figure out that her children were grown and were there with her. My aunt had said not to give her any refreshments because it might have sugar in it, or salt, and she had read that those things were bad for people. So, she went around making sure that no one ate anything that had the bad things in it. We learned to pass the sugar and the salt under the table, so she wouldn't see us, and throw a fit. My uncle said that we should let Grandma have a little wine, so he kept my aunt busy while my great-aunt and I gave her a tiny wine glass full of wine. When my aunt discovered us, we told her that it was grape juice, and she was satisfied with that. Grandma kept wanting more of those little glasses of wine. Pretty soon, she perked up, and was talking normally, and enjoying herself. She recognized her children and was more lucid than she had been in a long time. The lack of sugar and salt had actually hurt her, and she ended up having to go to the hospital and getting IVs to put some of those things back. My aunt never would concede that people need some salt and some sugar.

Sometimes, on Christmas Day, we would drive to my mother's parents to have Chirstmas dinner with them. It didn't seem right to be away from home, and the family that I was accustomed to on Christmas. And I was eager to share with my friends what we had received for gifts on Christmas Eve.

There was a little longing for a fireplace for Santa to come down, the custom of opening presents on Christmas morning, and a big, roasted goose on a platter for Christmas dinner. Instead, we got Santa bringing gifts to our front porch, having the Christmas tree after the store closed, and turkey and red roast and red gravy for Christmas dinner.

Merry Christmas! And I hope that you are having a wonderful, memorable time with friends and family!

Be sure to look at my guest book. Scroll all the way to the bottom of the page to find it.

If you haven't read yesterday's post, you might like to read it, including a poem by Elaine Winters.

Let me know if you see something of interest to you. Thanks for reading and for sharing.

Thoughts of Thanksgiving

THANKFUL
7" x 10"
Watercolors

Thanksgiving 2007 is behind us now. When I was teaching, I always had my students do a picture of something that they were thankful for before Thanksgiving. This year, I thought I would give myself the assignment, but I really didn't have time to work that out before the holiday was upon us.
Instead, I did this small watercolor.
I started thinking of being thankful for a roof overhead, a warm place to enjoy, food to eat and to share with family and friends. It isn't a picture of my family, or memories of our Thanksgiving meals, or even our Thanksgiving meal this year. My painting is a general scene of a Thanksgiving gathering. I probably had a few thoughts of holidays and family of the past as I painted this, however. This is another piece of art in my expressionistic style.
Two youngsters are watching tv on the floor, while others are outside tossing a football. More people are arriving, dressed in their Sunday best. Two couples are already seated at the dining room table, talking. The plates are set close together. A big turkey is roasted and waiting at the head of the table. Side dishes of potatoes, dressing, gravy, rolls are on the table, along with butter, cream and sugar.
Once, we had a large family, that gathered for holidays in one of several homes. That sort of rotated according to who felt like being host and hostess for that meal.
The dinette table, dining room table, a large table in the den, card tables, and a little children's table were all full of family, friends, and guests.
Now, our family has dwindled to one aunt in the nursing home, my daughter, her two sons, my sister, and I. I think we are not making enough memories for the younger generation by not having those big family dinners. But, the last time I tried to cook, I had a lot of trouble trying to lift the big turkey and dressing in the pans, and could have used some help. But, my daughter decided that she wanted to go out to eat with friends, and I just told those who my daughter had invited, not to come. We finally had turkey and dressing that night, instead of at noon, as was our custom. But, as I always have said, the best part of the turkey dinner is the sandwiches that you make later. So, that's what we did.
Last year, my sister, daughter, the boys and I went to a local cafeteria for a meal. There was a crowd, and a long line. The food was not very good.
This year, we did the same thing. A friend of my daughter's, her son, her husband, and his father, joined us. The line was very long and not good for bad knees (mine) or backs (my sister). But, the food was much better this year.
After we ate, we took pies to the nursing home, and shared with my aunt and the staff and residents, who wanted, and could have, some pie.
Sadly, by eating out, there were no leftovers to make those wonderful turkey sandwiches!
One Thanksgiving that my dad talked about, for the rest of his life, was the year that I brought home one of my friends from college. He would always talk about the year that we had a real Indian with us for Thanksgiving. And, for her, it was her first time to have Thanksgiving. That year, we had Thanksgiving across the street from my house, with the great-aunt who had the allergy problems.
Our family Thanksgiving meals consisted of two 30 pound turkeys, with corn bread dressing and gravy, a large Pikes Peak red roast with red gravy, a large baked ham, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes with marshmallows on top, cooked carrots, creamed corn, whole kernel corn, English peas, ambrosia, fruit salad, Jello salad, pears, peaches, jellied cranberries, rolls, bread, bakeless cake with whipped cream, chocolate, pumpkin, lemon meringue, coconut, pecan pies, and marble, coconut, and chocolate cake. Children got milk, with cream still in it, some adults drank iced tea, or "sky juice" (as my dad called it), and most adults drank some coffee. Most drank it with cream and sugar-lots of it! My uncle still preferred his coffee prepared by putting 1/2 cup of cream in his cup, then 4 spoons of sugar, then fillng the rest of the cup with coffee.
I always thought that they were speaking some German at our family dinners as people would say, "Pass the cush, please." Or, "Please pass me the gunwadden". They asked for the "pootie" or the "sawdust". It was only in recent years that I realized that these were some Aggie terms that my dad brought home with him from his time as a student at Texas A&M University. My great-aunt and her brother, my grandfather, did speak German, but that was not it, apparently.
Pootie-turkey
Cush-dressing
Gunwadden (gun wadding?)-bread
Sawdust-sugar
Sky juice-water
Everyone pitched in to do the finishing touches, and get the food on the table. There was much talking as people arrived, and the ladies joined in the kitchen, while the men gathered in the parlor and the living room.
The male head of the table gave the prayer, as the group settled in on chairs, stools, and anything they could find to pull up to the table to sit on, and then we ate and talked.
While the grownups lingered over the table, with coffee and dessert, I would take the kids under the table, where we "decorated". I taught people their ABC's, and to write their names, with crayons on the underside of the table. That was when we were small enough for a lot of us to fit under the table.
When we got tv, we would adjourn to the room with the tv to watch the Aggie-Longhorn game. Daddy and Grandpa, especially, took those Aggie games very seriously. Woe be unto anyone who talked during a crucial play, especially if the Aggies were not doing so well.
Sometimes we would go for a walk, boys would go out and toss a football, or we might go for a drive. But only after the regular crew went into the kitchen to wash and dry dishes, put food away, and get the table ready for supper, or a snack later.
By the time the meal was over, the men were stretching back, loosening their pants, and unbuckling their belts. Some would have to have a little short nap in their parlor chair while their food went down!
Despite eating all that food, repeated trips to nibble on "just a little bite" were in order through the afternoon and even late into the night.
Our tradition, in our family, was, after eating, and resting for a while, we would go out to the pasture and pick out our Christmas tree. We would get a Cedar tree, always too large, which Daddy would have to cut down and bring home. Sometimes, he just left it tall and bending over at the top. Eventually, though, Mama would get him to take the tree out and cut it down some more. Then he would make a stand for it, with two boards, crossed over, and some bricks around it to hold the tree upright. Those would be covered with a roll of cotton from the store (Conitz Dry Goods Store-grandpa's store), to simulate snow. Mama's ornaments would come out of the linen closet, where she kept them during the year, and we would hang decorations-or were they really toys for the cats to play with!
We discovered that snow for the tree could be made from powdered washing detergent, mixed with a little water, to make a paste. Then that could be scattered on the tree. I still remember the year that Daddy brought home a box of Cheer instead of Tide, so we had blue snow on our tree. We always preferred the bought things, but, sometimes, we had to make do with whatever we could find.
Sometimes, our tree would be in a corner of the living room, other years, it would be in the center of the recessed windows in the living room. Mama's baby grand piano held the tree some years, but usually, the room was just full with the sofa, piano, and a big tree, plus smaller furniture, and a heater.
One great-aunt had serious problems with allergies, and, at one point, she couldn't come in the house with our Cedar tree. Daddy also had planted a Cedar tree at each corner of the house, and had low Cedar shrubs by the front steps. "Toot", my great-aunt, would stand out in the yard to talk to Mama. Sadly, she had to give up working in the yard she loved so much. But, eventually, she recovered and she wasn't even sure why. She came to our house for a brief visit for Christmas Eve, when she was suffering with allergies, with the rest of the family. She was covered up, wore a scarf over her face, even - like a bandit, and left quickly.
Christmas is another story.
For this year, our fall and Thanksgiving things have been put away, and Christmas things are appearing. We don't go into the woods to cut down a Cedar tree, these days. Our tree comes from a box in the store room! Not nearly as much fun. But, we will have some hot chocolate while we put on decorations. Most of the decorations, are put up around the house. We still have to get the tree up. But, it has turned cold, and rainy. At least it is beginning to feel like Christmas this year. And we can use the rain. Usually, it is warm and sunny, and it is really hard to get in the mood.
This year, I'm ready to have some hot chocolate and do Christmas cards. (Still wish I had some good left over turkey for sandwiches, though.)
Thanks for reading and sharing. I hope that your Thanksgiving was memorable, and good.
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Vision-Where Is The Road Home ?

Where Is The Road Home?
image size 8"x11" paper size 9"x12"
watercolors
It was June. Time for our school reunion in a nearby town. My sister came to town for the event, and took me to the hall where we visited, had barbeque, looked at old yearbooks, and spent time with old friends-people who were like brothers and sisters after spending so many years together.


Once I sat down with my classmates, and were joined by people from the class ahead of us-the class I had started to school with since they were my playmates and neighbors-I tried to stay in one spot. It was hard to get in and out from the table, and getting up and down out of a chair bothered my knees. But, I quickly realized that my eyes were preventing me from seeing who people were away from the table. The only people I got to see were those sitting with me, those who came to visit our table, and people I saw as I was entering and leaving the hall.


"Is that .....?" my friends would ask me.
I might see a figure somewhere, but couldn't tell who it was. "I don't know. I can't see them!" I laughed. I might as well laugh, although it was frustrating. Later, I wished that I had wandered around some, and taken pictures of people.


Someone spoke in the center of the room. It was a man, but I couldn't tell who it was. I did see a few people when I was in line to eat. I was a bit reluctant to get in line, and didn't really want to eat, as usual. I would have rather just visited.


Later, there was a small band and dancing. But, it was like when we were in high school. Girls willing to dance, waiting for someone to ask us to dance, but no one did. The guys hung out together, the girls hung out together. If we danced, we usually had to dance with each other, in the days when we were learning to dance. But, now, we all had marriages behind us, or had husbands who didn't like to dance, and were back to being "wallflowers". But, there wasn't anyone we particularly wanted to dance with anyway. It would have been like having to dance with your brother. And, the guys now had wives. And some of us, can no longer dance, if anyone had asked us! The spirit is willing, but the knees say "No!" So, we talked and watched, until we grew weary of shouting over the band.


My friend and classmate, Kathryn, was staying in a motel in my town, so, in order to spend more time with her, and to save my sister an extra trip, I asked her to take me home.


I chatted too much, but it was so good to be with my old friends. I explained that I couldn't see very well, and that the signs were really hard for me to make out. I realized, too, that, since I hadn't been driving for a while, I didn't really pay attention to how to get home, or where I was going. I could tell by landmarks in the daytime, if I found something familiar. But, this place is growing and changing constantly. Things that I have been seeing all my life, have been torn down and replaced. I can't read the signs until too late to turn, but I can make out landmarks.


I thought, "How embarrassing! I can't even find my way home!"


There were big signs on the freeway, but they all looked like squiggles, until I was beside them.
I told her to look for a sign that directed motorists to the big library and museum, which is fairly new. We had already passed it.
Well, we could go through town on another road, but, then that meant more signs.


It was about time for my daughter to pick up my grandson after work that night. I knew that there was a large bank building next door to where he worked, and just off this freeway. I thought it would save time and driving for her, and frustration for me, if she just dropped me off at his work and I could ride home with my family.


Through the dark of the night, out on the freeway, a green highway sign glowed and reflected lights. Letters appeared as only meaningless squiggles. The red lights of an intersection on the frontage road, just up the little hill, glowed behind the sign. A little of that intersection showed. But, which one was it? They all look alike!


Tail lights from the car ahead of us looked like red stars, while the headlights coming toward us looked like yellow stars


Lights lining that section of the freeway appeared to have spokes and faded into balls or burts, like fireworks, of light. The moon appeared to be three overlapping circles of yellow and orange. The building that I was using as a landmark, glowed bright in the night. I had not liked it when they built that tall building, taking away from the natural landscape that we still enjoy-the tree line and the open skies. But, this night, I was so glad it was there, or we might be riding forever, trying to get me home!


Above the building was a strange shape, that looked like a space station or something from a sci fi movie. "What is that?" I didn't want to ask. I already felt so dumb for not being able to find my way to my house, or even where my grandson worked, without that big building. It reminded me of the times when I was growing up in the '50s, and science fiction movies became popular. They may look fake now, but, to us, they could be real things happening. We were just learning about things like flying saucers and Martians, and outer space. I walked up the little hill to my house, after those movies, anxious and worried about what might be in those star filled skies above my house and the school. And what might be coming to get us. I didn't know if it would be Martians or Communists that might jump out and do horrible things to us, or even steal us away or murder us in our beds. My mother often had to sleep with me after scarey movies! I was terrified, but I had to act brave as I left my date or friends after those movies.


Kathryn let me out in the parking lot and went on her way. It had been a long day with a lot of driving. I met my grandson, my daughter showed up, and all was pretty much okay again. I was already missing my friends. The reunions are always too short for me.


I sat in the back seat with my youngest grandson on the way home. It was dark. I couldn't see any of the signs on the way home, as usual, because I was looking at the back of the seat in front of me. Another reason why I haven't been paying attention to signs.


When we got home, and entered our house, I asked my grandson, "What's that big thing in the sky?" It was the thing I had seen hovering over the big building, and now it was glowing blue above the big oak tree in our yard.


"Grandma, that's a star!" my grandson told me.


Logically, I knew that there would be just one center point of light with that star. The "space station" that I was seeing was definitely more unusual and evoked different feelings. It was a bit of a disappointment, but comforting to know that creatures from outer space were not hovering above us.
I knew that driving was not an option, at least until I can get my eyes fixed. I wouldn't even want to try to drive with my problem reading signs. Some people seem to be able to drive with Macular Degeneration. I don't know how they do it. At this stage, I only have AMD in my left eye, but cataracts have formed in both eyes. I think that I am still able to do quite a few things, and most of the vision problems are annoying and frustrating. The one thing that I have had to stop doing is driving. With vision in one eye, it looks like I would be able to drive. I can still see things, until I close my good eye. Then, things appear distorted, have a purple and green spot, or , at times, they are much darker.


Fortunately, I do have someone who can drive and do errands, and take me places, when I need to go. I prefer being able to look for pictures, talk to my grandson, or even draw or write in the car. There are artists who do "drive by paintings", and that's sort of fun. I don't think I could paint in the car, though. I would have paint everywhere! A few years ago, I decided to do some paintings of this area, and had my daughter drive around the countryside while I did watercolors. The car bounced too much, and I really couldn't do it. So, I opted for a camera to take reference photos. Still, there is something about painting on location. You just capture things that can't be captured through a camera.



I did this painting, first as a pencil line drawing. Then, I did a soft watercolor, which shows the pink glow of lights from the city. I like some parts of that little painting. However, I remember the lights coming out of the dark along the freeway, so I did a second painting, which is the one above. I thought that you might like to see the process, so I am including those first two pictures below.





Thanks for reading and sharing. I do appreciate your interest and support, and I welcome inquiries and comments. Be sure to let me know if you see something that is of particular interest to you.
And, be sure to check out the links I have on my sidebar.
If you would like to go back to see my earlier posts on my experiences with Macular Degeneration, look in the Archives. All those posts will be prefaced by the word Vision. I have tried to keep those in the order as they occured.
Have a good TGIF ! Thank goodness it's Friday. Time for football games, weekend activities, or "whatever makes you happy".

Sunday Drive-Rumble Seat

Sunday Drive
Rumble Seat
8.5" x 11"
pencil
Here it is, another Sunday afternoon after a very exciting Aggie football game. All those overtimes! I didn't know that could be done. Wish I could have been there, but ticket prices are just too high now, so we have to settle for tv. And, we miss my favorite part of the game-the band.
Today's picture is a drawing of my family going somewhere-perhaps to see my mother's parents in Navarro county or a day trip to drive around Waco, where my parents met.
Daddy had a Ford coupe with a rumble seat when we were small. The interior was big enough for two adults and, maybe a small person in the middle. But, the long gear shift was on the floor in front of that space, so it made it difficult for anyone with legs that would hang below the seat to sit there. It worked to put my sister in the middle, when she was a baby. Or Mama would hold her.
But, when she got big enough, she moved to the rumble seat with me. We had quilts back there to wrap up in when the wind or cold got to be too much.
Our long hair would whip in the wind, even if Mama braided it. The wind would soon pull it loose. Sometimes, my sister would laugh at it. I just tried to hold my hair so it wouldn't hit in my eyes and mouth. We could duck down so the wind wouldn't hit us as much, but it still would whip around in the rumble seat. And, too, we couldn't see outside that way. All we could see inside the rumble seat were Daddy's tools scattered and the water jug he carried, in case someone needed a drink during the trip. Sometimes there were sacks of groceries , or a suitcase, if he was going to leave us at our other grandparents' home on the farm for a visit. Mama kept her purse with her for quick lipstick touch ups .
I showed Daddy in his favorite driving position, with his hat on, wearing kahkis, (on Suday, he usually wore his suit, unless he was going out to the pasture) and his arm out the window. No matter how cold it got, Daddy wanted the window opened at least a little crack. He said he needed it open to keep him awake. But the wind would blow right to the back seat and through the car. Heaters were not much good except in the front seat, and unless one had their legs right beside the heater. So, we had quilts to use throughout the car. If it was really cold, Daddy would bring his wool blanket and a wool long men's coat.
Mama is shown with her elbow resting on the edge of the side window.
There were no seatbelts in cars, so we could climb back and forth over the seat, when we rode in the sedan, crawl around, etc., until Daddy had his fill of that. Then he would fuss at us and we would be still for a while. We couldn't very well do that in the rumble seat, or we would fall out. Sometimes, we could sit in his lap and "help him drive", or stand on the seat beside him and see where we were going along the highway. I think I started learning to drive as soon as I could sit up and touch the steering wheel.
If the weather got really cold suddenly, or it rained, or hailed, we would move inside the cab. Mama would hold my sister, and I would curl up, with my legs on the seat, between my parents. If it was cold and bad when we started our trip, Daddy drove the sedan. We got to sit in the back seat, then.
One time, we were returning from Navarro county when it got really stormy. Mama was scared of storms and she begged Daddy to pull over. He finally did at the edge of a small town where there was a cotton gin. Since it was not that season, the gin was not being used. He pulled up to the parking area, and it began to hail. As the hail started falling heavily, Daddy pulled inside the gin. (I was more scared of getting in trouble for being in a gin than I was of the hail, and I started crying. I wondered if we were going to die, or would survive and be sent to jail for being in a gin that wasn't our's.) And Mama was crying in fear of the storm.
The sound of the hail on the gin, which was made of tin, was horrible, and we were ready to leave, even if it was hailing outside. But, we stayed until it let up. We drove out slowly, to green skies that changed to blue. I remember it being cold outside and we had to wrap up in blankets. We were all composed once more, knowing we had survived, but we completed the drive home in silence, inside the cab.
There were things to entertain us on our many drives, although we didn't have games, radio, CDplayers, laptops, or tv. All along the roads, there were the surprise signs that advertised Burma Shave. They were spaced out so that you didn't get the joke all at one time. We would read one, then wait for the next phrase, and so on for several signs. The last one always said Burma Shave.
Another thing that entertained us was for Daddy to blow his horn under every overpass. Everyone in the car had to put one hand on the ceiling of the car and make a wish. No one could talk. We had to stay that way until someone slipped and said something. The person who talked would not get their wish. It sure kept noisey kids quiet for a long while!
If we were going to Waco, we looked over the hills for the distant signs of the city. The tallest building was the Amicable building-a tall white building for an insurance company that was downtown and close to the Brazos River. We had a family tradition that the last one to spot the Amicable Building had to treat everyone else. Some people tried to lie and say they had seen it, when they really hadn't, in order to not have to buy everyone in the car a Coke or ice cream when we reached Waco. I carefully counted my change, worrying that my money would not be enough to treat everyone. Usually, a grown-up had to treat. I think they worked it that way because most of the kids didn't have but a few cents, or a dollar, if we were in a group going shopping.
There was a time when buzzards hitting windshields was a problem. A buzzard flying into a windshield could wreck a car, or even kill people. So, if a buzzard flew near, the car swerved and everyone ducked. We didn't have such an accident ourselves, fortunately. But, windshiled glass was not safety glass then, so it was a danger. I think buzzards have gotten smarter, now, as you don't see them on the highways often anymore. Occasionally they are on the side, after roadkill, but they usually circle off in the fields and definitely away from the freeways. We did count buzzards. There was a little rhyme that started "one for sorrow, two for joy, three for letter, four for boy..." that we would say. We always hoped to see at least two buzzards. If you only saw one buzzard, you had to watch it until it flapped its wings to avoid having sorrow or something bad happening.
We watched for trains, convoys of Army trucks and Jeeps, and landmarks. In those days, I wasn't looking for pictures to draw, as I do now.
We tried to teach counting by counting the telephone poles, or how many of one thing we would see, like how many red trucks, or Blue Plymouths might be on the highway before we got to a town. That was too much like math, to me, but we gave in and reluctantly participated in order for my little sister to learn counting, or, if we had a friend with us, it was something to do in the way of a game to entertain us. I got bored with it really fast and was ready to quit those games.
There were also certain landmarks that we relied on seeing with each trip.
There was a gas station that still had the gas pumps with glass on top, in which the gas was visible.
Near cities, there were tourist courts, with all their cozy little cabins.
There was a tree near a wide bridge that crossed a creek that often flooded. This was "Grandpa's Tree". Sometimes we stopped there, just south of Marlin. Trips seemed to take a long time, and we needed several rest stops. "Grandpa's Tree" was one of those places. It was named this because my great-grandfather always wanted to stop there. And, at that rest stop, they would have refreshments or a picnic and walk around a bit. I think that tree is finally gone, now. It was bulldozed to make a wider highway and bigger bridge. I hate to see that. I'm sure that they began stopping there in 1867, when he first came to Texas. After a little rest stop, we would continue across that long bridge. There were times when we had to turn around and go home because these bridges were covered with water.
In other years, there was drought and the creeks were dried up. But, the owners of that land planted something there for the cattle to feed on, and it was almost always bright green in the valley along the creek and under the bridge.
I recall another time when there were fears of Anthrax and herds of cattle were being killed. The cattle were shot, piled up, then burned. We worried that the Anthrax might spread, even on the smoke, and drift into areas where there were people and would infect humans in a disasterous epidemic. I can remember, along our drive, seeing those huge mounds of dead cattle, with smoke coming up from them, in that lush creek area, and hearing sounds of gun shots in the distance. Daddy had such a pained look on his face as he drove. I think they had already shot the cattle they needed to shoot, but I didn't have to see it.
And I felt anxiety about death and sorrow for the poor old cows. I was glad to get past there and into the city so we could look at other things. Maybe this visit, we could go to a movie, or get a treat. Usually, that didn't happen, though.
As we left my hometown, Daddy would always tell about keeping your car in good condition, with everything working properly. At the creek on the north end of town, he would tell, every trip, about a time when he and my mother were leaving town and a car had a wreck, at that very spot. There was a Mexican family in the car. The car caught on fire. Daddy stopped, along with some other men. They couldn't get the people out because the doors were wired together with coat hangers. The door handles didn't work, so they had wrapped coat hangers around the door posts to hold the doors together as they drove. The tops of the cars were made of thick cloth that looked like metal. Daddy got on top of the car and tried to pull people out. He said that he had the hand of a little girl, who was my age, and he started to pull her up. Her arm came off and she fell back into the fire. He said that all those people burned to death because they couldn't get to them. He had a pained look on his face when he told that story. He said that it really bothered him. And, he told the story almost every time he passed that spot.
Daddy had another car, a Ford sedan, that he liked to start with the crank. You could also start it inside, with a starter button, but he liked using the crank, or even to have Mama crank the car. She didn't like that very much. When he wasn't around, she used the starter button
Daddy loved cars. He loved to work on them and to drive. He never got rid of a car, until he traded in my first car. His dad, brother, and other family members had all kinds of cars, rusting away, in a pasture behind Grandpa's house. When they got a new car, they just took the old one to the pasture. There was even part of a Stutz Bearcat that had belonged to my great-aunt when she was young, in the pasture. Most of it had rotted or rusted away, but I remember the rounded little windshield and the steering wheel, and coils from the seats, pieces of wooden spokes that had been the wheels. There was quite an assortment to get rid of after they died and someone else moved onto the land.
One car that he liked to tell about was the sedan that he had when he was courting Mama. His car looked just like one that Bonnie and Clyde drove. He said that he was even chased a few times by police who mistook him for the infamous couple. That scared Mama to death. He got rid of that car, at Mama's insistance. The gang did go to that area some, so everyone was on edge.
In the drawing above, "Sunday Drive", I used my favorite drawing pencil, a #314 Draughting pencil. I like the effects that you can get with one pencil. They are hard to find in stores, now, though. The turqoise drawing pencils are good, but you have to use so many different pencils to get the effects needed. The #314 is very smooth and never scratchy.
I know that my rumble seat is a little off, but I wanted to tilt it a little so that the viewer can see inside the area a little, instead of just seeing the tops of our heads over the back end of the car.
Hope you get to have a nice Sunday afternoon drive today, without your hair blowing in your face!
And, I hope that you are enjoying my blog and will share it with others who might be interested. I have added some more links on the sidebar. These are sites I have found as I have searched for information and help with Macular Degeneration. In some of those sites, there are also a little art work and some writing by people who have experienced AMD.
As a note on the stork sites, while the storks are migrating for winter in Africa, and some of the webcams or sites are not working, there are still many pictures and much information online to enjoy. And, when the storks return, this will be an easy way to find the links to the webcams and sites to watch them as they nest in the spring. It's kind of sad to see those empty nests now. But, they will be back, if nothing happens to them between now and that time.
Be sure to check out the Artists and Authors links, and Interesting Sites on my page.
And let me know if you see something that you are interested in. I welcome your comments and support.