Every morning, a couple of newspapers deliver their headlines to my email. One, the one I never fail to open, is the Harrison Daily Times. I did my student teaching there in 1998 and subbed at the junior high for most of a semester in 1999. I worked at American Freightways before it became FedEx Freight. It is also the daily newspaper from close to where I grew up. (Understand that "close" is a relative term.) They also publish the Newton County Times, which tends to publish more stories about people I know, but it only comes out weekly.
Of course, all the friends that I had from Harrison when I was young have moved away, so those aren't the people I read about. My relatives and childhood friends from "home," however, are occasionally mentioned. The cousins with untreated ADHD,depression and other problems that drive them to self-medicate. Self-medication is expensive, so that drives them to manufacture and sell products in order to imbibe.
I truly believe better mental health screening would solve a lot of this. And some kind of job program. Something certainly needs to be done, because the drug problems are becoming generational. What used to be a few bootleggers getting into a bit of trouble turned in to marijuana growers and has evolved into meth manufacturing.
I know there are people who would like to turn the area into a giant National Park or something, but I would really like to see small-scale manufacturing return. Throw in mandatory drug testing. But people need jobs and dignity. Not weed and meth.
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Friday, November 13, 2009
Another one gone...
Our friend and neighbor Conard Middleton died this week. He was 86. He was a lifelong Republican and long time member of the Newton County Quorum Court-- a JP.
The reason that I tell you that he was a Republican is because my Papaw was a Democrat. In the world where I grew up, such designations mattered. A lot. Such things determine if your road gets maintained and what jobs are open to you.
But Conard was bigger than that. He cared about people more than parties. I know that he called over a time or two to someone to get them to grade our road, because when the "wrong" party was in charge, our gravel road sometimes became virtually impossible to traverse in a car. And my mom always drove a car, in the days before quad-cab pickups and SUVs. (She still drives a car-- better gas mileage.)
And, when I was a beginning driver, I spilled some hot tea on myself and landed my dad's car in a ditch. And he pulled me out, and never called my parents.
That, my friends, is a good man.
The reason that I tell you that he was a Republican is because my Papaw was a Democrat. In the world where I grew up, such designations mattered. A lot. Such things determine if your road gets maintained and what jobs are open to you.
But Conard was bigger than that. He cared about people more than parties. I know that he called over a time or two to someone to get them to grade our road, because when the "wrong" party was in charge, our gravel road sometimes became virtually impossible to traverse in a car. And my mom always drove a car, in the days before quad-cab pickups and SUVs. (She still drives a car-- better gas mileage.)
And, when I was a beginning driver, I spilled some hot tea on myself and landed my dad's car in a ditch. And he pulled me out, and never called my parents.
That, my friends, is a good man.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Craziness & Chaos
My husband is moderate about nothing. If anything gets his attention, the world is on hold until someone has solved it. This is never more apparent than it was today.
Olivia, our seven year old, is staying with Mea while I am in Writing Project and Todd is taking graduate classes. Today, Olivia did bother to wake up Mea. She got board, so decided to call me. I was of course in class. W had my phone because his day camp was over and he had to wait until I got done. W wouldn't come get me, so Olivia called Todd. He got very upset because she was “alone” while Meleah slept. It is important to note here that Todd was often neglected as a small child. From the time his sister was born when he was seven, he was left at home alone. This has obviously affected his outlook. His visceral reaction was extreme. So I tried to sort things out.
I called home. I called Mea's number and it rolled over to voicemail. Then I called the house phone. It, too, rolled over to voicemail. I had understood from Walker that Olivia could not wake Mea. So I came home.
I walk in the door, Mea is awake. Olivia is on the phone with her friend Sharnetta, watching tv in my bedroom. I had a nice long conversation with Olivia about what constitutes an emergency. She should only call me if one of the following occurs: the house is on fire; uncontrollable bleeding; severe burns; a break-in; or if she cannot wake up Mea after she pours water on her. I'll add a meltdown by W to that list for Mea.
It is hard to come down too hard on a seven-year-old for a lack of judgment. Of course, she lacks judgment. She's seven. But now she knows. No more judgment for her. Now she has rules.
Olivia, our seven year old, is staying with Mea while I am in Writing Project and Todd is taking graduate classes. Today, Olivia did bother to wake up Mea. She got board, so decided to call me. I was of course in class. W had my phone because his day camp was over and he had to wait until I got done. W wouldn't come get me, so Olivia called Todd. He got very upset because she was “alone” while Meleah slept. It is important to note here that Todd was often neglected as a small child. From the time his sister was born when he was seven, he was left at home alone. This has obviously affected his outlook. His visceral reaction was extreme. So I tried to sort things out.
I called home. I called Mea's number and it rolled over to voicemail. Then I called the house phone. It, too, rolled over to voicemail. I had understood from Walker that Olivia could not wake Mea. So I came home.
I walk in the door, Mea is awake. Olivia is on the phone with her friend Sharnetta, watching tv in my bedroom. I had a nice long conversation with Olivia about what constitutes an emergency. She should only call me if one of the following occurs: the house is on fire; uncontrollable bleeding; severe burns; a break-in; or if she cannot wake up Mea after she pours water on her. I'll add a meltdown by W to that list for Mea.
It is hard to come down too hard on a seven-year-old for a lack of judgment. Of course, she lacks judgment. She's seven. But now she knows. No more judgment for her. Now she has rules.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Quick post and then off
Today, I am going to a family reunion (or reonion, as some of them refer to it, when they are in a mood). This is my dad's side of the family. He was one of seven surviving children and he and his siblings (and their kids, which is where I come in) get together 2-3 times a year. We all get together the Saturday after Thanksgiving and Memorial Day weekend at least.
This year's Memorial Day get-together was postponed for a week for Bluegrass and BBQ at Silver Dollar City last weekend. My dad has played bluegrass semi-professionally most of my life. He has played for churches and festivals and even at Dogpatch for a few years. Since he retired from teaching, though, he has been playing music with some of the young people in the community. A few years ago, he had worked with three young me and created quite the band. They made a couple albums privately and sold them. They made some spending money, anyway. And, like the Commitments, about the time they got their break, they fell apart. Trust me when I say it is no easier to watch in person than in the movie.
A year or two back, he stated working with a new group of boys. And they had a lot of potential. They were asked to play here and there. The boys, though, are also into sports and girls and being boys. So despite the gigs that have been coming, they were still having problems getting their stuff together.
Then they got the chance to play at Silver Dollar City's Youth in Bluegrass competition. There was a catch, though. My dad couldn't be on stage with them, since he wasn't related to any of them. So he has been trying to get them to work up their 2-3 songs. For months. Then, in April, one of the boys, J.O. went nuts, changing schools and quitting the band. This leaves two boys. After some scrambling, one of the boys from the first band, Anthony, pulled in his little brother and taught him the bass in a MONTH, so they could play at the park.
One of the other boys, J.S., still wouldn't come to practice. And he blew the show. The boy that had been playing a month played better.
So Dad is ready to quit them. The band was one reason that he and Mom had been reluctant to move down here. Dad felt obligated to them. He always wished he had been given that sort of mentoring. In all honesty, Dad could have been a session musician in Nashville, if he had known how to go about it. Or played with a band. He's not front man material, but he is a heck of an instrument player.
So today is our Memorial Day reunion, and I am heading to Cabot with two of my kids (the other one being at Disney World today, marching in a parade). And I will hear some of the best gospel bluegrass played anywhere on the front porch of my cousin's house.
And I will avoid it, as I always do, because as much as I have tried, I have never really developed a liking for bluegrass.
This year's Memorial Day get-together was postponed for a week for Bluegrass and BBQ at Silver Dollar City last weekend. My dad has played bluegrass semi-professionally most of my life. He has played for churches and festivals and even at Dogpatch for a few years. Since he retired from teaching, though, he has been playing music with some of the young people in the community. A few years ago, he had worked with three young me and created quite the band. They made a couple albums privately and sold them. They made some spending money, anyway. And, like the Commitments, about the time they got their break, they fell apart. Trust me when I say it is no easier to watch in person than in the movie.
A year or two back, he stated working with a new group of boys. And they had a lot of potential. They were asked to play here and there. The boys, though, are also into sports and girls and being boys. So despite the gigs that have been coming, they were still having problems getting their stuff together.
Then they got the chance to play at Silver Dollar City's Youth in Bluegrass competition. There was a catch, though. My dad couldn't be on stage with them, since he wasn't related to any of them. So he has been trying to get them to work up their 2-3 songs. For months. Then, in April, one of the boys, J.O. went nuts, changing schools and quitting the band. This leaves two boys. After some scrambling, one of the boys from the first band, Anthony, pulled in his little brother and taught him the bass in a MONTH, so they could play at the park.
One of the other boys, J.S., still wouldn't come to practice. And he blew the show. The boy that had been playing a month played better.
So Dad is ready to quit them. The band was one reason that he and Mom had been reluctant to move down here. Dad felt obligated to them. He always wished he had been given that sort of mentoring. In all honesty, Dad could have been a session musician in Nashville, if he had known how to go about it. Or played with a band. He's not front man material, but he is a heck of an instrument player.
So today is our Memorial Day reunion, and I am heading to Cabot with two of my kids (the other one being at Disney World today, marching in a parade). And I will hear some of the best gospel bluegrass played anywhere on the front porch of my cousin's house.
And I will avoid it, as I always do, because as much as I have tried, I have never really developed a liking for bluegrass.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Basics
How can serving food for five people on a daily basis be so hard? I mean, I have a refrigerator, a deep freeze, an oven, and a crock pot.
My great grandmother had a wood stove.
I have a pantry full of food, in cans, waiting to be turned into meals.
My great grandmother canned everything from peaches to green beans to pork. Only then did she ever begin to cook.
She also hauled water, built a fire, and cooked. Then she heated water on the stove and washed dishes. Cooking for her crew was about a full time job.
For me, though, cooking is not my job. It is what I have to do *after* my job. My dh, on the other hand, does his job, then comes home and waits for supper to appear. By magic. Occasionally, he does the dishes (not as often as he thinks he does) or he puts something precooked from Sam's in the oven (or microwave). He *never* cooks. He will look at my pantry full of food and ask me what there is to eat. Seriously.
So, this is my problem. My belief in equality aside, if I am ever going to consistantly have nutritous meals, I am responsible for making sure they happen.
So I flirt with organization.
I have books like Don't Panic - Dinner's in the Freezer: Great-Tasting Meals You Can Make Ahead
and the The Freezer Cooking Manual from 30 Day Gourmet: A Month of Meals Made Easy
(if your idea of Gormet is chicken and pasta, you're there) and even the Woman's Day Cookbook.
What I should probably do is to quit trying to find a system, and just start. Cook a week's worth of food. I can do that, right? I'll be off more this summer and won't be selling a house or taking six hours of PhD level classes.
My great grandmother had a wood stove.
I have a pantry full of food, in cans, waiting to be turned into meals.
My great grandmother canned everything from peaches to green beans to pork. Only then did she ever begin to cook.
She also hauled water, built a fire, and cooked. Then she heated water on the stove and washed dishes. Cooking for her crew was about a full time job.
For me, though, cooking is not my job. It is what I have to do *after* my job. My dh, on the other hand, does his job, then comes home and waits for supper to appear. By magic. Occasionally, he does the dishes (not as often as he thinks he does) or he puts something precooked from Sam's in the oven (or microwave). He *never* cooks. He will look at my pantry full of food and ask me what there is to eat. Seriously.
So, this is my problem. My belief in equality aside, if I am ever going to consistantly have nutritous meals, I am responsible for making sure they happen.
So I flirt with organization.
I have books like Don't Panic - Dinner's in the Freezer: Great-Tasting Meals You Can Make Ahead
and the The Freezer Cooking Manual from 30 Day Gourmet: A Month of Meals Made Easy
(if your idea of Gormet is chicken and pasta, you're there) and even the Woman's Day Cookbook.
What I should probably do is to quit trying to find a system, and just start. Cook a week's worth of food. I can do that, right? I'll be off more this summer and won't be selling a house or taking six hours of PhD level classes.
Monday, December 29, 2008
So much to say...
I really have had a great holiday, despite the drama. And truthfully, my drama is petty, especially when I compare it to my friend's homeless sister or my other friend's disturbed brother. I have a family that speaks to one another and basically feels compelled to see each other during the holidays. In other words, I am blessed.
My baby cousin (who is now 30) came to see me tonight. She is working at Fairfield Bay this week, and decided to drive into town to see us. That was really nice. I hardly get to see her anymore. She and I were close for years-- we both spent a lot of time at our grandmother's house, and as the oldest girl, it was my job (spoken or not) to look after the younger cousins. Not that I minded. I've always enjoyed looking out for people. So I baby sat here, I listened to her rattle about her friends and sisters and boyfriends. Our relationship changed when I married my husband and acquired my step-daughter. My cousin and step-daughter bonded, and I became a grown-up to her; her friend's step-mom, rather than her big cousin and friend.
So now, what we have is a changed relationship. She and my step-daughter drifted apart. But that's okay. What we have now is an adult relationship. And I think a good one. We talk mostly on Facebook, since I am not really a phone person. Anyway, tonight was nice.
Now, I should quit blogging and cleaning off my DVR and go to bed.
My baby cousin (who is now 30) came to see me tonight. She is working at Fairfield Bay this week, and decided to drive into town to see us. That was really nice. I hardly get to see her anymore. She and I were close for years-- we both spent a lot of time at our grandmother's house, and as the oldest girl, it was my job (spoken or not) to look after the younger cousins. Not that I minded. I've always enjoyed looking out for people. So I baby sat here, I listened to her rattle about her friends and sisters and boyfriends. Our relationship changed when I married my husband and acquired my step-daughter. My cousin and step-daughter bonded, and I became a grown-up to her; her friend's step-mom, rather than her big cousin and friend.
So now, what we have is a changed relationship. She and my step-daughter drifted apart. But that's okay. What we have now is an adult relationship. And I think a good one. We talk mostly on Facebook, since I am not really a phone person. Anyway, tonight was nice.
Now, I should quit blogging and cleaning off my DVR and go to bed.
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Reunion & Kittens
Today was our semi-annual family reunion on my dad's side. I go to all of them for a number of reasons. One is that it makes my dad insanely happy for us to show up. Two is that I *really* enjoy some of my cousins; Joshua, Bobby (and his wife Dana), Amanda, Austin are some of them that I especially enjoy. Three is that this branch of the family reminds me why I am politically more liberal than I am socially. I see people who work, and work hard, but who find it impossible to get ahead. Some of them do not work as hard because they have learning disabilities, and they are just not on an even playing field. Reunions keep me humble. They remind me why I believe immigration should be limited. Many of the people there today are competing with illegals for jobs. And sometimes losing.
Gwen's kittens escaped-- or Finn dragged them out. One way or the other, the four kittens were in our back yard. I have a favorite-- she is a tortoiseshell with a little orange tiger stripe on the top of her head. She is independent and smart enough to stay out of trouble. I am really enamored by her. Her I am keeping. The rest we'll give away. And we have to get their mama fixed. We don't need kittens every year!
The big kids are at my parents. They were devastated that they might not get to help with the cattle vaccinations this weekend. Which amazes me. Then my parents have promised them a trip to Silver Dollar City to see Ricky Skaggs afterward. They are not overly impressed with that idea, even though Skaggs does a good show (and I abhor bluegrass). They just want to spend time with their grandparents. W is not going back to school. They are done with the academic bits, and Arkansas does not retain students for missing too many days like Missouri does. Meleah is also done, but wants to be at school next week to socialize (even though her boyfriend is out of the area).
Gwen's kittens escaped-- or Finn dragged them out. One way or the other, the four kittens were in our back yard. I have a favorite-- she is a tortoiseshell with a little orange tiger stripe on the top of her head. She is independent and smart enough to stay out of trouble. I am really enamored by her. Her I am keeping. The rest we'll give away. And we have to get their mama fixed. We don't need kittens every year!
The big kids are at my parents. They were devastated that they might not get to help with the cattle vaccinations this weekend. Which amazes me. Then my parents have promised them a trip to Silver Dollar City to see Ricky Skaggs afterward. They are not overly impressed with that idea, even though Skaggs does a good show (and I abhor bluegrass). They just want to spend time with their grandparents. W is not going back to school. They are done with the academic bits, and Arkansas does not retain students for missing too many days like Missouri does. Meleah is also done, but wants to be at school next week to socialize (even though her boyfriend is out of the area).
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