Dawson Springs Class of 2000 - Ten Years Out!

As another month fades into a new one I am amazed at how quickly time flies. So the story this time is of a group of people, a class. I started kindergarten in 1988 and followed through at the same independent school district until I graduated - mostly with the same classmates although there are always a few exceptions.


Dawson Springs Community School is a Primary, Middle and High School; all on one campus and often thought of as one of the major arteries of Dawson Springs' heart. I graduated with a small group of twenty eight fine young people. People who are now scattered out here and there across the country and living their lives. Doing what they do to keep moving forward and I am sure that they do it well.

Our class was the first of many to follow that made a day field trip to Washington, D.C., in the eighth grade - that my friend's is a logistic feat! Our class was also the first class to take a senior trip out of the United States. For our senior trip as a class we raised a little over $20,000.00, in order to take a cruise to the Bahamas. That trip is certainly a memory that we will not quickly forget. Throughout our years in the Dawson Springs School System we learned a great deal from the faculty and staff, from the books, and from experiencing all of this in a close knit setting filled with encouragement and pride. I guess you could say that we benefitted a great deal from the smallness of our community, as it created a special and unique environment for us to grow and learn in.

To think that it has been ten years since that small class walked away from that gymnasium as graduates. A place that we had spent many hours - thousands in fact. Only to move on down the line to the next step. Our class had a unique closeness, a great humor and with those qualities combined, we had a whole lot of fun over the years. In light of that fact, and in light of the idea of continuing that bond, our class will be celebrating its second class reunion commemorating ten years as Alumni.

This reunion will be held at Pennyrile State Forest Resort Park, in a lake side cabin on July 24, 2010. Pennyrile has been the back drop for many such reunions, and was for our five year reunion as well. I anticipate a great deal of catching up, reminiscing and plenty of fun to be had. I hope if you were a member or sponsor of this class you will plan to attend. A Facebook group has been established named: Dawson Springs Class of 2000. If you have not already, join this group today. I would love to see as many of my classmates there as possible. Ten years is a long time - head home and get together with the class, you won't regret it.

Note: The event is free and refreshments will be provided.

The Lovely, Lady Bird Johnson

As the flowers of this Texas spring continue to amaze me, the strolls and drives through Austin and it's outlying countryside are a beautiful sight to behold. And as we turn through pages of history and comb through lines mentioning times and places that belong to the ages - it is only a joy to look over those pages that grace the name, Lady Bird. A name that needs no introduction, a name that resembles all the grace, goodness and dignity that anyone would love to borrow.


A young girl in fields of East Texas wildflowers, a girl who lost her mother all too soon. A girl that knew not the mark she would leave on this great land. Finding solace in the wildflowers that would one day be an emblem of hers, among many. A girl who would sit at tables with men and women who forged through issues and times that would shape the country that we live in today. A modest lady who graced us with her presence on this planet, and as the years pass and her legacy grows, we see that mark she left all around us. In the swaying flowers on the roadways, at the Wildflower Center, and in the fields all across this state we hear them whisper - Lady Bird. A beauty that she was not altogether responsible for, but among all of her life, as valuable as her time must have been, she felt an important responsibility toward.

From Washington to Los Angeles, from New York to Austin, in London or in Paris, her name will brings smiles. A lady whose times involved assassinations, controversial wars, and the extreme battle for civil rights in this country. After all of this, she is still a beacon of light, she is the wildflower. Her ability to bloom among times of upheaval and adversity, and to bloom in times peace and prosperity - lends itself to the legacy that is hers. A legacy that involves almost a hundred years of contributions to something that was larger. A picture that she would paint that has become a sanctuary for all those who pass it by. Lady Bird…how did you do it? How could you be a steward of so much?

When spring drifts into summer, and the seasons change as this world goes around, we will be reminded everyday of a lady who cared enough to share. With each phase of the year I am sure that we will see her. While the swans glide across Lady Bird Lake, as the Cypress rises to beauty out of her waters, and the joggers, bikers, dogs, and passersby glide along the lakeside too - each day they too will know her name. A name given by a Nanny, "Pretty as a Lady Bird," we thank you…because we needed you!

Eighty Years - Wow

I wonder if anyone told you so long ago, in the beginning, how much you would do? Did anyone share with you all the things that you would grow to see and do? Did you have any way of knowing how many lives you would live to touch? Eighty years I am sure have went in a blink for you, and after all these years you fared well.

As a boy roaming the hills, trapping and planting, playing some and working more. I see you in those fields and forest and I had no way of being there. Told by your Great - Grandmother to touch the shadows on the wall so that you wouldn't be afraid anymore so long ago and I never saw you afraid.

Growing up to travel the world, marry and love, be a father and more. Scores of friends, family, patrons I am sure dot your memory. People who made impacts on you, people who touched you, people you loved and respected - some of them gone and some still here. Leaving your Mother and Father to serve all mother's and father's and all children, and this land that we love. Leaving to find your path and make your way and what a way you made.

Twenty five years of jumping, serving, experiencing, learning, things that I or we may never know. Courage and strength that I or we may never have. Things that we'll never do that you did, and all the while it was for us.

Papaw you were a good son, and have been a good husband and father. You served your country well and through hard work, insight and determination ran a successful business. Your poetry and narratives bring joy to the minds and hears of so many. Your brother's and sister's smile on you as do your nieces and nephews. You have worn this name well for all these years and as I am not there to celebrate with you I do share in the pride of being a small part of the story of your life.

My Pal, My Friend, what would my life be had you not been my grandfather? A name we share and so much more...I wish I knew what to say to thank you for all you have done and all that you are. Your greatness amazes me and I will walk in your shadow so long as I live and be proud to do it.

I say thank you with all the love I have in my heart and happy birthday with a smile on this, your eightith year. You stand apart, you had to...you're Papaw!

Note:  On May 5, 2010 , My grandfather Edward E.Storms will celebrate his 80th birthday.  He will be celebrating on Saturday, May 1, with a surprise birthday party hosted at the First Baptist Church Fellowship Hall.  If you are available drop by and wish him a happy 80th.  I am sure he would love to see you there! 

All the best,
 Jonathon 

A Field of Pooh's Corner

"Like sands through the hour glass, so are the days of our life."


I guess there is something that can be learned from soaps! Not that I'm a soap opera watcher...but who doesn't know that line?

While following up on Monday morning e-mails and regrouping professionally, I stumbled on my friend Molly's link to some new music she has been working on. I quickly drifted to one of her songs that is one of my personal favorites, The Easy Side. If you had been a fly on my weekend's wall you may understand why I appreciate this song so very much.

This weekend I attended a birthday bash for Eeyore, the fictional character in Winnie the Pooh. While there I noticed something about myself that I didn't like. I noticed a few flaws that I don't mind scolding myself for having, because there is always room for improvement. I am sort of stiff - there I said it. All this time I have thought of myself as a doer, an accepting person, a free thinker and lover of minds, and maybe I was a little. But as I drifted through this park filled with people, dogs, children, and sunshine I reminded myself that life is too short a ride not to enjoy as much as we possibly can each day. I came to understand that stepping out of one's comfort zone can be liberating and exciting. The one thing that I will pat myself on the back for doing is going with the flow. Erasing fears and judgment and swaying to the sounds and spirit of the day. It's not that hard - you should try it sometime!

Throughout the day I enjoyed the beautiful Austin weather, meeting tons of new people and experiencing some wonderful music, I even danced. And as I realized that I was enjoying myself I felt freer still for being able to step out of a comfort zone of mine. To have it available to release some tension and bad stuff in an effort to let more good things in. All this gave me a sense of stability and strength. A confidence in knowing that being myself could allow me to appreciate tons of things and personalities. Leaving behind the worries of work and personal projects to find The Easy Side, for the afternoon…and I am very glad that I did.

Friday...Charge!

This year is a symbol for so many things in my life, and as I embrace another week, I breathe easy knowing that the past week went well and as we say: all is well that ends well. Like the owl in the night I make this subtle sound on this web, as if to notify the rest of the world that I am here, and well.

This morning on my way to the bus I saw a baby opossum hiding in the tall grass. Scared he may have seemed, but he had also made his way out alone in his little world. Maybe he was abandoned but for some reason that wasn't my initial thought. I didn't do anything to help him and maybe I should have...but for some reason I thought he would make it fine. His life will be filled with sudden dangers and hopefully he will quickly learn to roll over and play dead.

Yesterday upon leaving the Capitol to head home for the day I saw a white squirrel. Roaming the capitol lawn searching for pecans, acorns, or walnuts. To eat or to hide - he is in the right place for finding food. Life will be harder for him too. It will be harder for him to hide in the branches or in the grasses. In the shadow of a monument to progress and forward movement lives a white squirrel. I think he will do fine too.

The things that I have experienced, learned, felt, and loved over the past eighteen months makes me have a direct affinity for that opossum pup as well as that white squirrel. I left all that I knew and came to a place that I would come to know. Little did I know that it would be one of the best decisions that I would ever make. Instead of docking my ship and dropping anchor I feel that I have finally completed its construction and shoved it off the dock and into the water.

Waving good bye to people, places, and things that I never knew I could and finding out that there really was no good bye at all. Crossing thresholds that made me blink to determine whether or not I was dreaming. Meeting new faces that would make me happy to know that I set out on this journey in the first place - people that I have found share the same zest for life and growth.

However, I have also closed doors. Doors to the things I cannot change and not because of distaste but only the fear of keeping those particular doors open. Doors that I will forever wonder and think over, my prayers will linger there I am sure.

Like the white squirrel and the opossum, Austin didn't find me I had to find it. With the help of a great many and one in particular I made it here to stand alone. But not for long. In my reflections I know now that I wasn't looking for Austin at all; I was looking for me. And somewhere along that long and winding road I seemed to have found myself. Many times I have asked the same question the Indigo Girls do in their song Galileo: "How long till my soul gets it right?"

I don't have it just right but I am working on it. I think I like the process too much to perfect it just yet...Life is Good!

Happy Friday!

Earth Day Every Day

Windows lightly covered by drapes and airy kitchen curtains only framed the view of feeders filled with seeds, scrap board houses filled with chirping birds and a humming bird feeder filled with a concoction for those little creatures. All of this reminds me of Earth Day year around. In the corner of my Aunt's house sat a television sat that only came on about three times a day. The rest of the time these feeders drew the Cardinal, Titmouse, Chickadees, and others near.


My Auntie and Joe, and Granny and Papaw all had compost piles. A needed fertilizer for their vegetable gardens as well as their flowers. Joe and Auntie even used well water to water their gardens. While Ami and Gar used rain water collected in buckets. All efforts to be green before that word was as popular as it is now.

Not a lot of paper towels were used at our house! Dish cloths and dust rags replaced the idea of using a roll of paper towels to clean up the kitchen after dinner. The lack of paper products left room for place mats and cloth napkins; a luxury that I still enjoy. All these were efforts of green living too.

I guess there was also good reason that my Dad always found ways to get out of the house to enjoy sports or the likes. He didn't do a lot of indoor sitting and my parents encouraged my sister and I to get out and enjoy the sun too! Dad hunted, fished and played golf among other things. But these were all hobbies that got him out into the great outdoors. A place that always brought him peace and good vibes I know. He and Mom still enjoy their back yard and spend most mornings and evenings together out on one of their porches.

I know that these are just everyday habits for a few people and there are there are things that I have left off. However, the point is, that measures of green living have always been here. I have know people that have appreciated this green earth all my life. The same people that without knowing put these same ideas into my head.

I remember taking a saplings out to my Granny and Papaw's house after receiving them on Earth Day's in the past. Saplings handed out to youngsters to plant to help the cycle continue. Granny and Papaw had many grandchildren - but they planted all our trees and you should see their yard now. Trees now that have grown above our heads and expectations of all kinds. Something that was given a chance.

I had the wonderful opportunity of sitting on a "bat barge," on Lady Bird Lake with an old friend and some new ones. That evening I watched as hundreds of thousands of bats swept out from under the Congress Bridge and swirled into the night. I was amazed at what this world has to offer, even in the city. All my life I have appreciated the Earth and what if gives to us and what kind of person would I be if I didn't?

Earth Day is a good day to think about all the things we should do year around to protect our habitat. All the while protecting it for the animals that we share this beautiful world with. It's an easy concept that takes minimal efforts - let's do it! We will all enjoy the results!

Hey Mona Lisa - What's Your Story?

Your distant gaze makes me wonder who you are. Your subtle smile, if not a smirk, makes me wonder if we have invaded your precious privacy for far too long. When decades become centuries and all else is not remembered how have you kept our attention for so long. Who are you Mona Lisa?

A lady who has graced the world's finest venues, she has wooed many over for years and she was no Queen. An Italian woman believed to be twenty four, married to a wealthy silk merchant has come into the thoughts of many thinkers. Few do not know her name; it is probably as popular as the painter she sat for. Or did she?

Leonardo Da Vinci, one of the great artists of the renaissance period brought us many wonderful pieces of art and the Mona Lisa, one of his most famous works, defines longevity. Why has she not been taken down and put away like so many other artifacts of our past? Why has she been protected and set apart? I suppose there are things that just make it through the cracks no matter what happens. No matter what weather these ideas or objects are faced with their magnificence makes them matter.

A few months ago I was visiting New Orleans; another place that against all odds has survived all that this world had to give it. A beautiful place, full of music and life, a place for harmony and smiles - set apart from any other place because of its pulse. There in the French Quarter I stayed in a hotel as beautiful as the day is long. The lobby sprawled across the front of the interior and in every nook and cranny with a surface sat a white potted gardenia. Each morning these gardenias would be exchanged for fresh replacements. Without a doubt I thought but did not speak: why are they doing this? Those still look so perfect. But even still I suppose it added to the luxury of the experience.

Undoubtedly everything has its time and its season. Papaw once wrote in a poem to my cousin Lyndsey: "How much do I love you?" To paraphrase his explanation he spoke of the amount of time and energy his love involved. Admitting that he would love her as long as his photo was hung up on the wall. He told her that he would continue to love when those same photos were taken down from the wall and put into some box or drawer, to be forgotten and misplaced. He would love her even though his "heart be still." He explained so eloquently that his love would last as long as she did and that it had began before she had ever arrived.

When the seasons change and those pictures of me and you are taken from the walls of our life and put into boxes. Just as the gardenias - replaced because of time. I am reminded that the Mona Lisa still hangs. Her face still gazes on crowds that come from far and wide to see here.

I love you Mona Lisa. I love the fact that you made it far beyond your years. I love you because your drawer never opened. Because somewhere sits a green house full of gardenias and a box full of pictures all sitting - maybe forgotten and maybe not. The simple idea that enters my mind is that the difficulty of our life should not be the attempt to not fade away. Much to the contrary. The difficulty of our life, or should I say our life's work…should be work that allows us to give the whole of our being to those that we love and cherish. As if to sit for a painting and expose our complete beauty and complexity. For lack of better words: we should pull out all the stops each day to make our lives worthy and useful. The goal not being to last forever but maybe that the fruits of your labors do last after we are gone.

Again, who are you Mona Lisa? How did you achieve this place in our world? How did you accomplish this Mr. Da Vinci? Whatever the answers are I am pleased with the results.

Eat Your Veggies...Or I Will!

The farmers market in the city reminds me of a common practice around home. Popping beans on a back porch, or shucking corn in the afternoon before a delicious six o'clock supper, is nothing unusual. Outside of town, farms dotted the countryside. Lots of cattle, the occasional hog farms, chicken farms later on, and of course tons of fields of corn, soy bean, winter wheat and Kentucky's once most popular bounty...tobacco.

Many, if not most back yards boasted gardens. They didn't have to be large - a couple of tomato plants and a pepper plant or two would do just fine. Even still everyone knew where to go to get produce straight from the garden. More recently the Dawson Springs Main Street Program has started a farmers market downtown on Friday mornings. But before that, a drive through the countryside was necessary in way of finding what you wanted to put on your table that night, or can for the winter months.

I can see the faces of people now that sold these goods. We knew these old folks and went to their homes to buy fresh strawberries, there was another old couple that we used to buy sweet corn from - usually silver queen! There was a man that lived across the highway from West Hopkins High School that sold all sorts of produce from his garage. Blue Lake Green Beans, purple hull peas, okra, squash and zucchini, and of course gobs of tomatoes. Gobs...I haven't heard that word in a while. These kind growers would often be picking the goods when you drove into the drive. But they were eager to wipe their brow, put that straw hat or cap back on and come over to shoot the breeze.

I grew up eating meals that would make Paula Dean say Ye-haw! She would love it! My favorite combination being: Mom's Fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, fresh green beans popped that day and cooked down with a piece of ham and guess what else...bacon grease. There I said it! Hold on - I'm not finished. The table would also have fried okra, squash, sliced tomatoes - ripe and red, onion slices or green onions, and maybe a few banana peppers. Topped off with cornbread or biscuits. Is your mouth watering yet? Mine is!

Throughout the years family and neighbors have raised gardens and those years we wouldn't have to take those drives through the countryside to find these summer treasures. But when we did again it was such a pleasure to see Kentucky's land all around us. Rolling hills and forest that remind me of another time and another place.

These days I have fresh produce delivered to my door by a family farm around Austin. I participate in community supported agriculture here for two reasons. First, I love the vegetables, and even though I can't effortlessly whip them up like Mom and Dad, or other family members - I still crave them. Secondly, I do it because it is something that my family has always done. Not to be supportive always…mostly just to eat some good stuff.

When I stroll through Austin's downtown farmers market I enjoy myself but it makes me think of another way of doing it. I suppose the original way. And as Earth Day draws near I am thankful for being able to have done it both ways - to abide in the tranquility of rural Kentucky and also survive in the city. That alone gives me some interesting perspectives. However, my upbringing in Western Kentucky allowed me to see Earth Day practices year around. It was a place where farmers markets were not trendy or popular they were a treat. I grew up in a time and place that farmers small or large were revered as stewards of the land. Year after year, sharing part of their harvest with us. Old men and women that strolled through their properties admiring all that they had. Not just the fields that kept the lights on, but also the birds that sang and the trees that shaded their lawn furniture. Men and women who worked land that had known no other names than theirs. What a pleasant thought today…

Now - what's for lunch!

This Is My Story - This Is My Song!

I listened to a song today and as picks and tips of fingers brushed strings a melody and words touched my heart. Most music lovers love the song that takes them away from what they are doing right then - only to take them to a place of music and rhyme. A song that tells a story about the life you want to live, the place they want to be, and the love you want to have. However, we may have all those things, and if so these voices and instruments have a unique way of bringing light to things that may be in our very own back yards.

In an effort to bring myself out of shells and open doors that I have never touched the knobs of… I started this blog. Trying to bring my love of words to a place that could only be theirs and mine. A place to connect all the people that I thank the Lord for. The people that are and always will be in my heart, where ever they are. A blend pretty words about pretty people. How can I do that? To take a deep breath and act as if this key board in my piano and attempt to play a song that is mine.

A song about thankfulness and experience. A song about rose colored glasses that become less and less blurry as the days pass by. A song that I can only write - because it's mine. I didn't know that this would bring so much to my table. A smile comes to my face as my cup runs over.

If I knew the tunes to every song I would try to harmonize, pull up a stool and sing along like my Dad and his buddies - a million years ago in our living room on Rosedale Lane. If I have the time I would like to tell you how my Nannie laughed - a song that was truly a blessing to hear. I think I would try to touch the notes that would remind you of all the times playing cars in our living room on Saturday mornings when Mom mopped the floors. Who knew what a world she could create by moving four ladder back chairs into the living room. Or a melody about cinnamon rolls, sofas, and my sister and me watching The Smurfs? How can I explain the dignity in my Great Aunt Ami's hum, while watering African Violets with a Dixie cup? How do I do that? And maybe I just did.

I turn around to look but don't go back. I thumb through pages and most of the time the stories remind me of my family and friends, and I wonder if I should continue to share that. Should I only talk about those people, places and things that I love? Or a better question might be, how can I not? To cling the cymbals and bring attention to some of the subtle niceties that have made my life and my person what it is. To be the voice of voices that may never be heard again. The voices that ring clear in my ear, the people that come to mind when I think of grace and goodness.

I guess will take that torch to the next place and hand it off to another. A person that feels the need to carry it further, the person that feels the weight of this responsibility. And I can't stop until I have made it to that place and to that person.

This blog has come to me later in life than it should have. I think the people that I have been connected with through this meager attempt to catch up on what I thought should have already been done, was long overdue. These people whose encouragement and positive energy bring joy to my days. What a nice experience this has been with very little effort on my part.

Where is the moral? Where am I going with this web I am spinning?

Perhaps this is the only way that I can write my song and sing it. A tale of people, places, smiles, laughter and love. A road that while walked I have gained wisdom from each word; written or spoken along the way. I road that even the pebbles at my feet and the birds over head can lend me insight. A tale about a road that I haven't walked alone and probably won't. In fact the road has been crowded at times and the visions of that crowded street represents the best of times. A tale that maybe I won't be able to write until I know the ending. A place I will come to with the help of so many others. It is almost as if they hoisted me to this level and then I walked on. It was the point that these people that took off my training wheels and sang lullaby's and also those that spoke firmly and kept things steady because all this is necessary. It was there that this ballad began.

I will write about people that could never die if they are with me a thousand times a day. The people that continue to amaze me at how they pull off all that they do. The people that all down the road I have thought… I want those types of qualities and abilities. During this process it is my hope that you find me. The product of so many. I will do my best not to mention money...I think that had little to do with it. I have been fortunate enough to draw from a well that gives more than dollars and cents and I hope not to pull the pail up one day and it be dry. The well that I try to give back as much as I take from. From this well my strength and faith in everything comes. I have found so many people have filled this well that keeps me going and each time I go there in need, I see their faces. That makes me glad to have come. It makes me smile to know that the sun will shine for me another day and I'll do my best not to take that for granted.

Can I do all this? Will I?

I don't know but I'll try and I am going to have a good time while I am doing it! Didn't you think I would have to?

Thank you, I am sure you all know who you are.

"Twinkle, twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are!"

Oh, Babies... 

Babies change our hearts and make us understand that we do really experience miracles.  As we watch these little ones grow we begin to understand what keeps this old, old world turning.  It helps us to appreciate the fact, that the cycle of life is a magnificent process to watch. 

I don't have any children of my own but I have the joy of sharing in milestones and happenings in my dear nephew and niece's lives.  These two have kept my attention for quite sometime and as life continues to happen to them I am so proud to be able to be a part of their lives. 


In the last few years friends that I grew up with have begun to start their families.  Boys and girls that I passed notes to and ran around the play ground with, are having children of their own.  So the cycle begins again.  It's almost like the first scene in Disney's Lion King - having a child gives you the right to share the world with someone else.  Parents are afforded the privilege of opening the doors of this world for a little one.  How cool!

But should these children never sleep beneath your roof permanently doesn't mean that you don't get to take part in the process.   I try to follow the examples of the great people in my life that did not have children.  Continuing to have interest in my sister's children's lives and trying to be there to help when that is something that I can offer.  The aunts and uncles that don't have children become spoilers too and I have benefited from that.  People that read this blog might ask:  Jonathon what have you not benefited from?  So I smile - knowing that life has been good to me.

In the timeless song: What a Wonderful World, sang by many, but my favorite version being that of the Great - Louis Armstrong.  There were never any truer words spoken:

"I hear babies cry...I watch them grow
 They'll learn much more...than I'll ever know
 And I think to myself...what a wonderful world..."


Today I spoke with a person who has two boys of her own, yet has touched so many lives over the course of hers.  Ruby Hatley, fondly thought of as "Miss Ruby," has been a long time "mover and shaker" in my home town of Dawson Springs.  So again I am reminded of the song by the Indigo Girls:  All That We Let In.  We start out so small and so innocent, learning from every hug and every lullaby.  Opening our eyes to new adventures each day and growing to become players in this game that we call life.  At every turn coming in contact with people like Miss Ruby, people who come into our lives only to bring goodness and wisdom.  People out there to help set us on the right track .  Not because it's their job or position - but because they feel the need to give and share.  Maybe because of all the kind people who did the same things for them. 

When we look back over our shoulders in this life it is wonderful to look back and see the faces of those who shaped our lives.  I think that is a very important part of the process.  Because we truly are "better off for all that we let in."  When these little ones open their eyes to this world, it is important to understand that they are seeing us...without filters or prejudices or preconceived notions.  They are learning from our very being.  That puts value and importance into anything, to know that you are now part of the process. A road that from beginning to end is an adventure.  To think of all the joy that is yours and all the times there will be to celebrate and share, to love and to guide.  It's hard for me to stop thinking about this process. Even still there is no need to over think it.  These people of mine come to these places in life prepared because of all the living they have already done, because of all the good love and guidance they have already received.  Knowing full well that the web of family and friends will always share in their joy and happiness. 

Today from as far away as Texas I smile upon these friends and family members that have already or are just about to start out on this journey.  I smile to know that these warm souls will shape lives and change them.  That these wonderful people that I know will be apart of that process - knowing that they have always wanted to do so.  Knowing that these babies will be the center of their lives... and...so it goes.  Some more of the lucky ones.  Another bunch that will receive the love and guidance needed to tackle this world with a smile.  The only difference being that this time we get watch - we're not going to be the ones on that tee ball field or basketball court, we're not the cheerleaders or soccer players.  The spelling bees will not have words for us to spell - they are all theirs.  On and on it will go...and it will be better for them than it was for us - you'll make sure of it. 

Years from now when we gather, as we always do.  It will be this bunch that we discuss, it will be these weddings that we attend.   Sooner than later it will be their world that we live in and the cycle will repeat itself again.  How cool! 

Parents and grandparents and aunts and uncles, friends and strangers will smile upon your children.  It's my hope for these little ones that the breezes cater to them and this world is kind. I hope that they come to know as many wonderful personalities as their parents did and I hope to be one of them.  I also hope that every day on their journey they learn what a joy it is to love and  to be loved.  And for these parents I hope you know that I will be one of those smiles...most likely larger than some!  This I know - all the best!

Weeks End

Friday is here and this week I have been waiting on Friday since Monday. When the rat race gets you down you can always count of Saturday and Sunday to remind you of your lighter side. Fortunately, my lighter side emerges so naturally that I never resist the urge to get out and have a good time!


Weekends…I love em'.

On another note, I am getting really close to the sixty mark on this blog. It is hard to believe that I am this far into a New Year's Resolution without dumping the idea as a whole - that feels pretty good. There is no need to look back at those entries as they are there now to be read. I can only hope that I continue to have ideas and stories to share in the upcoming months. I want to sincerely thank all of you who are reading these entries and I especially appreciate your comments. This has been a very valuable experience for me. It is helping me to grow as a person and as a writer. All the while it is helping me to connect with people and that is a major plus.

It is my goal to complete a year blogging. Writing entries that are positive, enlightening, humorous and entertaining. I have many projects that I would like to undertake in my life. Writing has always been one of those projects and this blog is helping me to foster the ideas and techniques that I have. Also, If You Could Read My Mind, strengthens my courage to write more, it makes me feel that it would be appropriate to tackle short stories - maybe even a short novel. Granny always told me that when you didn't have time to dream Big anymore you might as well throw in the towel! That makes a lot of since to me. Especially since I am doing all the laundry.

Thanks again for your continued support and have a great weekend!

Stay tuned…

Reflections

The day was cold and the sky was cloudy white like a worn out old tee shirt. The sun was in there somewhere I just couldn't see it. It was November and the leaves had already left the trees and blown across yards into fence rows. Men and women dressed in wool coats and the occasional fur filed out of a dark green tent back to their Buicks and Oldsmobile's, heads down and mostly silent. A funeral.

All across town you could hear the church bells chime...it was just beautiful. Tons of smiling faces, a mother in tears and father with a distant gaze file out of a church. Flowers and ferns - summer dresses matching summer suits and a girl…dressed in white. A wedding.

Silence in a hall way...waiting. Family members leaned against the white walls, heads down...still waiting. The door opens and out comes a face with a smile and in the room you can hear the crying. Is it a boy or a girl? Who does he or she look like? What did they name this little one? A birth.

Rows and rows of people gathered. Suits and dresses pressed for this very day to match their smiles and tears. Mixed feelings of pride and sadness - the turning of a page that you knew would eventually have to be turned. Caps flood the air along with the cheers of a group who have made one of their first big accomplishments. A graduation.

A single thing given to us all, something to cherish, something to protect yet still experience. A span of time for one and all to know and be know, see, touch and feel. A life.

Doesn't that seem simple.

Did I Mention "Bur"?

Perhaps it was mid-day, he could tell by the sun in the sky. But I doubt he worried much about time. He had many stops to make. Popping into the barber shop for a quick gab session, moving on to kill some time at Woodburn's or the Standard Station. You would see him all over town - making the rounds. A fellow Kentucky Colonel, Robert Sherman "Bur" Davis of Dawson Springs, Kentucky.

Known by everyone in town as a fixture of local goings on. Bur was always around to perk things up. I was a little boy when Bur died, however the stories that surround this man are in every household in my hometown. Stories of a character who lived a life of networking, sports enthusiasm, and vast correspondence with those Dawsonians who went off to college or moved away. But not only Dawsonians...also coaches of Kentucky's Collegiate Basketball teams. He was a fan and admirer of them too!

A few short years ago Dawson Springs lost a pillar of the community when Jed Dillingham past away suddenly. Jed was a longtime editor of the local newspaper: The Dawson Springs Progress. He was also a fixture of local goings on in town. Jed's last editorial was printed in an edition of the paper that he did not live to read (I believe but am not certain). His words boomed in the paper that his family has labored to create for more than half a century. Words congratulating the win of, then, newly elected Governor, Steve Beshear. Governor Beshear is also a Dawson Springs native. In that editorial Jed brought up the fact that there were many people who did not live to see this victory. A victory that is a definite feather in our little home town's hat. He mentioned the Governor's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Beshear, he mentioned so many citizens and civic leaders who have long since been departed from the coffee breaks and council meetings in Dawson Springs. But all citizens of a town that is known for rallying around their own. One of those people was Bur Davis. Bur might have been described as a simple man, an understatement indeed, but not by Jed and not in that particular editorial. Bur was listed among a group of business leaders and people that he would have been pleased to be associated with.

I often blog about my hometown, I talk about my family and friends. Sometimes I plug establishments that I have frequented and enjoyed. Sometimes I wonder who out there is reading these words and what they might think. Often times friends that come across this blog comment on my facebook page with their thoughts on my thoughts or story that day. I have found that the people from the quaint town that I call home are proud people. People that were brought up to obey the golden rule, people who may not only greet you with a "hello," but also a hug - plainly said : GOOD PEOPLE!

In the nooks and crannies of our highways and byways, the land that stretches across this country of ours is filled with places, people and stories. I just so happen to come from Dawson Springs. The jewel of the Tradewater. The former home of the Hickory Pit, Bur Davis, and of course the home of our Commonwealth's Governor!

Not bad - not bad at all!

Magine, Magine!

To Kill A Mocking Bird

A town, a time and different places in between, yet the voices and themes coming from pages printed over and over again. The pages of literature that remind us all to look with in when we need real answers. To even look farther than what we think is within. To test ourselves to go beyond that. To go beyond what we think, what we can see , and what we know and go to place where we feel. A message singing loud and clear saying that what is right, decent and good will finds its way. Not changing the fact that our humble minds should wrap around the ideas of goodness and justice. Goodness and justice are things I pray never disintegrate. Simple words, but what do they mean: To Kill a Mocking Bird ?

In this book written by Nelle Harper Lee, more commonly known as Harper Lee; we are reminded of times and places that are gone Regardless of their current existence the message in this tale is one that is ageless. A message that stirs into a brewing boil the ideas of coming of age, race, ignorance, justice, truths, and the simplicity and connectedness of a small town.

For a long time I didn't know exactly what the title meant. I searched and could not find the meaning. Later finding out that Atticus Finch , the even-handed father and attorney in the novel, expressed to his children that they should never "Kill a Mocking Bird." That this should never happen because there should be no good reason to do so. Simply put by the character that the Mocking Birds only produce beautiful music and do little to harm anything.

The scene of this southern tale is set in a small Alabama town. The same town where two children reared by their widowed father and a nanny come to understand controversy by viewing it with their own eyes. Their own youth and innocence contribute so much to the story. Throughout as they are experiencing the local towns peoples decisions and actions the reader begins to understand how we begin to understand. Scout and Jem often surmise what is happening by picking up bits and pieces and discussing those issues among themselves. They bring up issues at dinner and breakfast with their father and their Nanny, Calpurnia. They find the answers eventually, but don't you know that is how it works.

The issue on the table was not one that is so pertinent anymore. Not an issue that I would in any way want to drudge up or debate about. The issue was that of the times in the deep south -surrounding the thoughts and theories of race and prejudice. I do however want to touch on the consistent relativity of this novel and our lives.

Harper Lee published this Pulitzer Prize winning American classic in 1960 and has long since been silent and even reclusive when it came to sharing any writing she may have done since. Her connection to the literary world has been limited if not non-existence. And with all due respect what else could she give us - how much more brilliant could she be?

For decades school children have taken this journey with Atticus, Jem and Scout. A journey through a small southern town and all its components and oddities. A town like Mayberry or my own hometown of Dawson Springs. For those of us that grew up in places reminiscent of Maycomb (Thought to be a re-creation of the author's hometown - Monroeville, Alabama.) it becomes more and more easy to understand the function of this piece. It has become a tool for understanding integrity and morality. A device as profound as the day is long, and after all these years it has not lost its luster.

To deal with diversity is easy for folks that live in a town like Austin. Austin and cities like it celebrate diversity and individuality. They become a Mecca for the free thinkers and free spirits. A place where all ideas are tossed around the table and no one is really frowned upon. On the other hand, Maycomb was not that type of place. Diversity was lonely, examined, then examined again. It was dissected on porches, in grocery stores, play grounds and church pews. Diversity could only survive through strength and courage, through decency and perseverance, and in this particular story it does.

What if all flowers bloomed the same color or all the trees swayed in the same direction? What would happen if everyone's homes were identical, if our clothes and our cars were the same? BORING! Speaking out and using a prominent white attorney in 1960, to tell a tale of this magnitude was bold. But written in a language that those who abide in the types of places like Maycomb or Monroeville could understand. Delivered as pleasing as the fragrance of the lilac sweeping through the back yard and as southern and graceful as apple pie or lemonade. Who else could have done it?

Sometimes when I think about To Kill A Mocking Bird, I think about the south, sometimes I think about childhood, other times I remember the trial and the things that were controversial. Regardless of the reason...I remember. I will always remember. I will always remember the idea of never killing anything that does nothing wrong. Even if it is just an idea.

Thank you Miss Lee; you changed my life and you don't even know me.

To kill a Mocking bird













Bruised Atticus Finch Rare Import

Back to Pooh Corner

The phone rings and when I pick up we start off like we never let off - laughing, sharing, being ourselves. What a privilege to have a sister that is also a friend. Today as I shuffled through a playlist on my phone I came across Kenny Loggins song: Back to Pooh Corner and I was reminded of so many good memories.

My sister is six years older than me and over the years has been maternal at times, looking out for me in a way that only she can. The added bonus is that she is also my friend. We grew up to know that we were both unique in our own personalities, likes and dislikes, but we share so much. There is one person in the world that knows what it was like to grow up in my little family. One person that I share the same parents and people with… one sweet, fun and caring person.

 

You might ask why this song jogged a thought of her and why would it?  It's not a memory of our childhood, although it could be. However this was a tune that she rocked her children to. "Help me if you can," the words collide and I am reminded of one of those people that can help me go back to all the places in my life.

It's hard to explain the relationship that we have, and have had over the years. From children racing for the front seat of the car, or eating those afternoon sandwiches in our living room watching Saved by the Bell or a re-run of the Brady Bunch. Life was so good then and it's good now. As time has passed we have shared good times and bad. She has helped me move, get through difficult times and she has also been there when it was time to celebrate...happy times.

I look back with a smile thinking about her wedding day, a day when I thought I had the prettiest sister in the world. A dainty and classy Cinderella, who went from Dad's arm to Steven's. I am proud to always remember the birth of her children and watching them grow has been one of the true joys of my life. To think of all the things that she has shared with me. I smile again.

These days my sister is juggling quite a schedule as a wife and mother, going back to school, helping look after my Papaw. But one thing that I will always be thankful for is that she always makes time for me. Throughout my life I knew that she would always be there for me. When I reach into my wallet to show a new friend photos of her children it's easy to see that I am proud of my sister and all that she does. I am proud of the relationship we have built.

Throughout my life I have always looked up to her, she was one of the first people I met. How cool is that? Today when I think of her holding Cole or Sloane - when they were so small - so perfect - it makes me feel so blessed to have her in my life. To have a sister that has always willing to give and share so much with me; a debt I will forever try to repay. 

There are things in life that we don't always do.  Things we don't always say, and that is unfortunate.  I hope not to bore any readers with tales and praise about my family and friends, but this blog gives me a spot to say the things I know I should.  I always remember stories about wailers in the Bible, people who mourned whole heartedly.  I was always told that those people were necessary in those times, and I assume today as well; if they so choose.  Following up with that idea I am happy to say that I have little to mourn of wail about.  My life has been filled with people like my sister Shannon.  The people and places in this very blog are the stories of my life.  The stories I have shared about those that are gone are happy memories.  I am so lucky to have all those happy memories, to have and have had all these wonderful people to walk down this path with.  So I may never wail but I blog - talking about some amazing people - sharing the wealth that has been mine,  and I think that is necessary.

As I see the bond that Cole and Sloane have formed, I am smile again.   Knowing that they stand to gain so much from each other.  I know that that tie is a tie that will be difficult to break, a bridge that they will never want to burn.  And as I am smiling at the thought of that I feel blessed again for Shannon's generosity, to have shared her children with me.  A gift that has no monetary value a gift that I will smile upon for all the days of my life.  Aren't sisters and brothers the best? 

Some many of my memories are shared with my sister and when I "return to Pooh Corner,"  she's always there.

Lyrics: Kenny Loggins; Pooh Corner:

"It's hard to explain how a few precious things

Seem to follow throughout all our lives

After all's said and done I was watching my son

Sleeping there with my bear by his side

So I tucked him in, I kissed him and as I was going

I swear that the old bear whispered "Boy welcome home"

Route 3 Box 560

Today I have something on my mind. A memory from my childhood of a sweet neighbor who made an impact on me and my family through kindness and wisdom.

When my Mom and Dad got married in the summer of 1974 they settled into the Dawson Village in Dawson Springs, Kentucky. Dawson Village was already the home to many family members and it seemed like a good place to make their start. An apartment filled with shower gifts and the beginning of a journey that is still going on almost thirty six years later. In 1975 they purchased the house that my sister and I grew up in on Rosedale Lane, at the time our mail would have read:

Mr. & Mrs. Eddie Storms
Route 3 Box 560
Dawson Springs, Kentucky 42408

There are so many memories that surround that address and as I drift back I am pleased to go back down memory lane. Our neighbor Pearl Nichols is part of several of those family memories, but we all referred to her as Mrs. Nichols (pronounced: Miss).

Mrs. Nichols might have been one of the sweetest people that I've ever met. She was a gardener, a cook, a wife and a mother. A God - fearing southern woman who was right next door sweeping her carport or tending her garden. Her hair was snow white and in a bun, but in the evenings she would sit on her porch and comb it out, and that would remind me of an angel.

Over the years she taught my family many life lessons. When I think about it now, I am sure she looked at my folks as two young people heading down a path that she had already taken. I bet she enjoyed seeing our home and yard filled with activity and love, because it reminded her of when her boys were at home and their home too sheltered those same types of "good times."

Tall maples surrounded our houses and shaded our lawns. She often told me that her husband, Herman, had went into the forest and gathered the ones in her yard when they were young trees and she had lived to see them grow. Now those trees are huge and as far as I know they are still there.

Mrs. Nichols paid me to get her mail out of her box on the street and bring it up to the house. When important mail was expected I was sure to see her waiting at the door to make sure I didn't drop anything. She often hired me to sweep her carport, or do something here or there for her.

The funny thing is that I don't remember ever hugging Mrs. Nichols, we were neighbors and I guess it wasn't necessary. But I had a admiration and affection for her that was known and reciprocated. Over the years my Mom and Dad had exchanged favors with Mrs. Nichols and it was clear that Mom and Dad, Shannon and I all cared about her.

Two yards linked by invisible lines - two women's kitchen windows facing one another - doing things that they both were born to do. Mom use to remark that "you could eat off Mrs. Nichols lawn it was so tidy," and it was. She new every plant and tree on her property, she knew almost all the ones on ours.

Mrs. Nichols looked out for us in her way, and we did for her in ours, that's what neighbors do. We lived in the kind of world that when Mom and Dad were "team cooking," as I like to refer to it and they needed and egg or a cup of sugar - I would run next door and borrow it from Mrs. Nichols. Knowing that the next time we went to Davis' Grocery I would be taking a cup of sugar or egg back across the yard to replace the ones that we had borrowed.

Over the years I saw Dad cut her grass when he cut ours a hundred times. Or Mom and Dad meeting her in the middle of the yards just to talk or to see how she was doing.

Mrs. Nichols...what a memory.

Well you all know by now that I am a softy for my hometown and for my memories. Today as she often does Pearl Nichols popped into my head. A memory of a friend that I knew so long ago. To think I never her hugged her, or maybe I did and didn't remember? It must have been an unspoken love and appreciation and it was surely sensed.

Mrs. Nichols died several years ago, and boy did that hurt me. Someone else bought her house and things happen the way they always do. My sister and I went off to college and moved on. Mom and Dad bought a house across town and have lived there for several years now. But in the beginning when we were four on Route 3, we had an awesome little life with a perfect neighbor. Things happen for a reason and now that our family is made up of seven we are richer still.

I think that Mrs. Nichols would be proud to know that she is often brought up at our table. Fond memories of a lady that touched our lives ever so gracefully. A soft-spoken friend with the wisdom of life, faith and happiness. Isn't it nice to know those types of people? Don't we want to be those kinds of neighbors?

When I look back I can see Dad grilling steaks on our grill in the back yard and Mom cooking in the kitchen. Shannon and I in and out of the house for one reason or another and Mrs. Nichols sweeping that carport - we co-existed quite nicely. What a blessing!

Let's Talk About Music...I Like That!

Churches, Dance Halls, Bars and Beaches all use music to keep their flocks swaying and smiling. I love music and don't know what I would do without it. The latest tune or an uncovered oldie might be my new obsession at any point - it just has to strike the right chord, no pun intended!

So what do I like...it's hard to say because I like so many different types of music. Here goes nothing!

Joni Mitchell: I love this Canadian artists and I remember when once I was in the living room with my Mom and Dad at home, probably in the mid 1990s, watching TV. This was some sort of televised benefit and Joni Mitchell crossed the stage casually and performed for the likes of then President Clinton and First Lady Hillary Clinton. I was amazed at what her voice and the words of that epic song did to me. I have loved that song ever since then and I love it for the same reason that I love all the songs that I do. I told a story that I understood. It's as simple as that!

The Beatles: Who doesn't know about the Beatles? Or better yet who couldn't name one or two of their songs? Particularly I love; Here Comes the Sun, and Eleanor Rigby; in lyric and tune these two songs appeal to me...there are others.

Gordon Lightfoot: His song inspired me to title this blog If you could read my mind..., and I love his song The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.

Ray Charles, Miles Davis, Etta James, Bette Midler, Madonna, Willie Nelson, Dolly, Dave Matthews, the list could go on and on and on. It really could. On iTunes or Pandora, the radio or TV I am always listening to music of some sort. It helps me tick. Some music brings out different feelings, moods or emotions and some I can listen to without really listening. All and all I am a nut for these notes that flow from instruments and voices, they are stories too.

The Land of Milk and Honey

Plants are never stingy! They bloom to recreate but bringing beauty is the plants life. Dying to self in the winter and revealing the weakness the plant has not control over. Thirsty for the rain and craving the sun, a friend to the bees, and bugs, butterflies and birds. What would we do without the trees, plants and flowers, the grass that carpets our lawns and pastures? They become the color that makes this planet a continual display of magnificence.


Over the years I have known many people with green thumbs. People who would prefer having their hands in the dirt, working the ground than being inside taking in a good movie. Flowers, trees and plants have always inspired us. Generations have continued to name their children, streets, and cities after these living things. They make our world a better place to live.

Iris, Rose, Lily, Pansy, Violet - all names familiar to females and flowers, just to name a few. Remember Nightmare on Elm Street; a horrifying tale set on a commonly used street name, and the Elm in fact is a towering tree. Songwriters haven't been able to keep themselves from penning these things into their lyrics. Authors of book, poem and essay use these beauties to set scenes and draw you in. We are attached to these lovely beings in so many ways.

Somehow along the way men and women determined ways to prepare leaves, roots, fruits and vegetables to nourish themselves, and some have existed solely on these gifts. Apples, oranges, beans, turnips, tomatoes, all bring feelings to my taste buds. Aren't we spoiled?

I' m from Kentucky where my uncle Joe puts out a beautiful garden of potatoes, cucumbers, summer squashes, green beans, purple hull peas, and an array of other veggies that fill his table each year. Most families have a couple tomato plants in the back yard and if you don't you might come home to find a basket of produce dropped off by a neighbor.


Clubs meet to discuss how to decorate their lawns with bulbs, bushes, and blooms. It seems a natural and easy way to keep our head up. Professors teach students how to treat these organisms in order to help them thrive. In my mind these flowers, fronds, and limbs create a setting for our own lives, the background to our story. All living and active members of our habitat and what a wonderful habitat that is.

In the shade where the fern rolls out its arms, as if to stretch and wake up, creating a fan of green - a home and food for insects. In the fields along the fence row a family of sparrows nest among the thorns of blackberry bushes. Reminded only by the delicate white blooms of the Spring that soon these prickly creatures will be creating berries that will please their bellies. If the kids or dessert makers don't get to them first, that is. Perhaps the Oak tree gets a kick out of making our homes more energy efficient, if we thanked him for his shade, would he reply: "Glad I could help!" The weeping willow nestled among the canebrakes on the edge of a pond, a haven for bees as it swishes and sways among the water and world. The rose budding and adorning the gardens of castles and cattle farms, where would we be without these lovely additions?

Floral sofas, flower arrangements and still life's, wall paper, oil painting hanging over mantels depicting the mountains and plains, would be nothing without the turning leaves or leaning grasses. We experience this beauty so often that we often forget what a prevalent pleasure it is.

Did we ever leave Eden?


I have always loved being outdoors. Right now if you saw me you would think that I haven't slept in weeks, but in fact I have. But my allergies punish me for all this beauty I have to soak up. As sure as the ivy will slither up the chimney, I am reminded that each day we are looking at a painting so original that we forget that it's a package wrapped up just for us every day.

Whether or not you tip-toe through the tulips, swing from the branches, or smell the roses, soak up the beauty that is out there for you and me. Breathe in the air they create and fragrances when try to recreate. Treat them right because they have all been pretty good to us. And no matter what...try not to Pave Paradise to Put Up a Parking Lot! My Great-Aunt Ami, and I do mean great, always shared with me her responsibility to neighbors we share our space with. Gracefully attending her garden like a mother would a child she could bring life to lifeless and that plant would live to please again.

I am so glad that I was urged early on to appreciate our habitat. To love the Dogwood and Maple alike. I'm glad I was taught to know that a Mimosa was more than a brunch cocktail and that even though the ant marches on the Peonies, it's an act of love. I am finding out more and more as life happens that she introduced me to one of the loves of my life, by sharing one of hers.

Today as the wind whispers by, on it are the seeds of next year's fields and valley's and with those I send these words flowing out into the days and nights of a future forever changed by something so simple. Something that was here before we were and may be here when we are not. Something so intriguing that it has kept generations fed, shaded and happy. Eden is all around us.

All That We Let In

Who are we without the people we love?

A holiday weekend filled with friends wasn't enough for me. I topped it off with long conversations with my Mom and Dad as well as my Aunt Judy. Easter Sunday has been more eventful for me in the past. Yesterday was a quiet and relaxing day that ended with love from home, and that seemed to be eventful enough.

All those memories that I drudge up in this blog and all the thoughts that I am usually afraid to speak aloud - they all surface on holidays. Sundays conversations with family reminded me that I am not the only one. My parents and my aunt mentioned loved ones on this holiday. They all laughed and spoke of fond memories. We all relished in the simplicity of our happy lives.

So let's go back...

Today I write, tomorrow I'll read and all that I read and write will be that of blessings. The extra things that have been given to me throughout a life; a life still beginning. I opened three envelopes on Easter-one from Mom and Dad, one from my Aunt Judy and the other an invitation to my good friend Lisa's wedding. What a blessing it was to read the names and words on these pieces of paper. What's more, is that included in Judy's card was a photo of Granny and Dad at a family dinner at Granny and Papaw's house – both of them smiling. I thought about that day because I remembered it. Next, I opened the card from Mom and Dad and I found more pictures. Great minds do think alike. These pictures were of another family outing, an Easter outing in fact. My favorite was of me and my big sister Shannon is matching sailor suits with my Nannie. We were at the state park outside of my hometown, and Nannie was smiling from ear to ear as well. So on this Easter not only was I greeted by a Lisa, Mom and Dad, and Judy but both my Grandmothers. As if to smile upon me from afar and say although we are far apart, we're here.

Thank you.
I had a Nannie and a Granny, I had and Auntie and Joe, Papaw and Buddy, Decola as a silent partner, an Ami and Gar, a Shannon, a Judy, a Trisha and Bill, a Mike and Toni, I had all this and still have most. You might ask what didn't I have? But today I wouldn't trade the moment I had with two dear people, two smiles that brought mine out.

If I could say anything to Nannie I would tell her how I've missed her, I would tell her what has happened in my life over the last thirteen years and that I loved her. I would be remiss if I didn't let her know that I've thought of her everyday of my life.

To Granny I would say all that I didn't, all the things I thought I had time to but remained silent. I would let her know how much I learned from her and how much I loved her. I'd say a lot.

Regardless of what I would say, today I didn't have to say anything because they did. Their smiling faces wished me a Happy Easter. With tears in my eyes, I was thankful for those women in my life.

I think I might have gotten it wrong a few times to remove the living accomplishments from peoples legacy's. To omit the beautiful personalities that were helped to bud because of these mother's and grandmother's. The folks that signed these cards and sent these pictures, knowing how touched I would be. The folks that reared my Mother and Father to be good enough to withstand all that the world would give. The people that would change my life by living theirs.
There is a song written by the Indigo Girls, you may have never heard it. It is titled "All That We Let In," the tune speaks truth that is poetry. "We're better off for all that we let in," isn't that right?

I didn't have a big Sunday dinner with my family but I had them with me anyway. I had them in picture, in word and in voice. Calling on me to say: we're here. A simple message to let me know that I was thought of . A call to bring value to my life. I love that - and the two ladies in those pictures would have too. Is it possible that they could have been sitting together to day in a Heaven that we dream of discussing our good fortune? Is it available to them to love us from there? To think of that brings me joy and regardless, is it okay to think like that?

Two strong ladies, different in form and thought, with one thing in common...children. Children that they gave birth to and loved, children that they worried over and cared for...mother's-smiling, loving, caring, gone. But not today, not on any holiday, and as my cousin Elizabeth stated about her Mother Jane Harrington, not on any milestone small or large, not gone at all. Just like the eggs in the spring grass waiting to be brought out into the light and talked about and spoke of. To have a name is given, but to make a name is a difficult process. A recipe of love, loyalty and endurance and to live beyond that is legend.

Where am I today? Or should I ask: where would I be?

Me and my sister in sailor suits, the same sister I am destined to walk this life with. To share the same memories, the same family, the same dear ties to people that loved and love us. How did I get so lucky, to have come to know all the people in these pictures, to know so well the little girl that I was dressed to match? Why was I put in the place that I was? Well, I guess since there is no answer to that I will just have to go with the words of the Indigo Girls: "We're Better Off For All That We Let In. "