• Memories and prayers…

    It was May 24, 1971.  All these years later, I still remember that it had begun as a beautiful Spring day.  At that time, we were a young couple and parents to an almost three year old and a one year old.  We were living in the first home of our own, a small two bedroom cottage in an older treed neighborhood.  A neighborhood where you knew your neighbors and everyone cared about their homes and one another.  We had spent months restoring and redecorating…learning as we went.  We were proud of what we had accomplished.  As I recall, my parents were spending time with our children at their house that morning, one mile away.  That gave us some rare free time together, but I don’t remember where we had been that morning.

    While we were out, the rains had started and the winds had picked up.  I don’t remember if there were sirens back then or if we heard about the tornado on the radio but, at one point, we could actually see the dark gray funnel as it swirled furiously about!  It was behind us, in the vicinity of our home, as we raced away from it and toward my parents’ home.  The winds were so strong and fierce that, at one scary point, our little VW bug was lifted up on to the sidewalk!  My husband managed to get back on the road as we made our way to our children.  We waited out the storm at my parents’ home with our children safe in our arms.  Later, when it was all over, we ventured back home.

    Thankfully, our home was intact.  There were some limbs and debris in the yard but everything was fine.  As we began walking about the neighborhood, we realized that the tornado had touched down on every other street!  There was unbelievable damage on every other street!  According to Memphis records, it was a Force 2 which covered 24 miles and injured 22 people.  Somewhere, within my boxes of photographs, there are pictures of the damage that day…but I don’t need a photograph.  I still remember.

    In the early 1990’s, we were living in a small town in Kentucky.   On that particular Summer day, my husband and I were at work, our daughter was at home from college for the summer, our younger son was at the church playing basketball with friends of his and our older son was away at medical school.  A typical, busy Summer day.

    Early that afternoon, the skies turned an unusual, deep shade of green and it began to rain in torrents and fierce horizontal sheets.  The winds began to literally howl – roaring loudly.  We lived in a large 1940’s Cape Cod house not far from the hospital where I worked.  Something told me that I needed to get home but it was impossible at that point to even leave the building.  I called to check on my daughter and young son.  She was at home alone and scared.  We determined the safest place in the house for her to wait.  My young son was in the basement of the church with the youth director and several other children.  They were safe.  Later, my daughter called to say that we needed to come home and that we wouldn’t believe what we were going to see.

    After the storm was over, we made our way home.  Much of Elizabethtown looked like a battle zone.  Our historical street was one of the worst hit.  The elderly gentleman across the steet from us lost his house entirely as an immense oak tree fell through the middle of the house – literally splitting it in two.  His daughter had called seconds before the tree fell.  He got up to answer the phone and his life was spared as the tree fell exactly where he had been sitting.  Many others lost their homes.

    A very large tree limb fell into the roof of my daughter’s upstairs room, protruding several feet into the room!  Another large tree took our back porch off.  There was other damage to our home but nothing compared to what others had lost.  There were trees that had lived for two hundred years sprawled across our yard and across the road all the way down our street.  It was a sad picture.  But we were safe.  My husband was interviewed in our front yard by national news networks about the storm and the damage to our home.  I then reminded him that he needed to call his Mom to let her know before she saw the news!  Our parents and our son needed to know we were safe.

    Again, somewhere in my photo files, there are pictures of that day…but I don’t need them.  I remember.

    These memories pale in comparison to the horrific scenes in Moore, Oklahoma.  As I viewed the literal devastation and heard the stories, my heart broke for those who have lost their loved ones, their homes, their everything.  As I watched people climbing over the rubble and through the debris, I wished that I had a search and rescue dog and could be there helping.  That was what they needed at that time – search and rescue dogs – before it was too late.

    It will take years to rebuild everything and many years before the pain subsides for those who have lost so much.  They won’t need pictures either…they will remember.  There are several ways or avenues through which we can help at this point – regardless of where we are located.  Most of us don’t have a search and rescue dog or the means to rebuild a home, however we can still help with a small donation

    The following is according to MSNBC:

    • The Salvation Army is currently organizing disaster response units to serve the hard-hit areas in Oklahoma. Supporters are encouraged to give online or by calling 1-800-SAL-ARMY (1-800-725-2769).You can also text the word “STORM” to 80888 to make a $10 donation through your mobile phone; to confirm your gift, respond with the word “Yes.”  Donate to the Oklahoma Tornado Relief by mailing a check to: The Salvation Army, PO Box 12600, Oklahoma City, OK 73157.

    • The Red Cross – Donations may be made by calling 1-800 RED CROSS (733-276-2767), or by visiting  redcross.org.   Send $10 to the Disaster Relief fund by texting “REDCROSS” to 90999 or by visiting the website at RedCross.org.
    • Samaritan’s Purse – The international Christian relief organization will provide emergency assistance as well as cleaning and repairing damaged homes.  Donations to help victims can be made at samaritanspurse.org.
    • United Way of Central Oklahoma – The organization advises that monetary donations are the best way to help. Fund dollars will be distributed without administrative fees to United Way Partner Agencies working on the tornado relief efforts.  Donations may be made online at www.unitedwayokc.org or by mail to: United Way of Central Oklahoma, P.O. Box 837, Oklahoma City, OK  73101 with notation for May Tornado Relief.

    But probably the single most important thing any of us can do at this moment is pray.  Pray for the families who have lost so much.  Pray for strength, endurance, peace and comfort that only God can give.  Pray for those still missing that they may be found safe and alive if at all possible.  Just pray…

  • Memories of Bill…

    December 1, 1943 –  April 10, 2006

    We are souls living in bodies.  Our bodies grow old, but our souls never die.  Seven years ago, you went to Heaven.  While you are no longer on this earth, your spirit lingers on in the lives of our three amazing children.  You would be so proud of them.  They are strong, loving, successful.  They are giving and devoted spouses.   They are loving, remarkable, wonderful parents.

    They are happy.

    Our grandchildren are treasures.  I tell them about you often.  I tell them “Granddad stories”.   I wish you could have lived long enough to have met the youngest ones.  They will hear Granddad stories too.  I see so much of you in our children and, now, in the grandchildren.  No doubt, they will have your drive and your competitive streak.  They are all athletic like you.  They’re artistic like both of us.  You would love hearing them play the piano and the violin.

    Our grandchildren are incredible blessings and bring me such joy.

    From time to time, I do see a mischievous grin on their faces and I know just where that came from…

    Love always,

    Dianne

    Matching shirts in the early seventies…
    Our two older children…fifteen & a half months apart.  Joyful, busy days for a young Mom and Dad.  Here they are coloring before bedtime in our son’s “cowboy & Indian” room…
     
    late eighties at Vanderbilt University…our little cowboy grew up
    Glacier National Park and a week of backpacking…

     

    Daddy and Daddy’s girl

     

    Graduation day…Mississippi College
    Wearing her Dad’s Heroes shirt…

     

    Our youngest little bundle of forever joy…

     

    Taking a break from playing frisbee by the street lights…

    Graduation day at Indiana University…

    Our firstborn grandchild helping Granddad paint…

    Granddad talking to our daughter’s oldest two children…
    Granddad and our firstborn grandchild. At Scott and Amy’s wedding in Memphis…

     

    Granddad holding our daughter’s daughter…

     

    2004…Granddad holding our daughter’s baby girl.

     

    Granddad holding our firstborn’s firstborn…

    Playing doll clothes with our older son’s firstborn on a visit to Memphis.

     

    Granddad and our older son’s baby girl…they had been playing doll clothes and dolls in the floor with Granddad. We celebrated her second birthday that week.

     

    GrandDad, Great-Grandmom, our older son and his daughters…

     

    My three sisters and Bill on a visit when we lived in Terre Haute, Indiana. Sad to think that three of them are now in Heaven. My sister (second from right) and I remain behind on this earth…

     

    (L to R) Penny (Bill’s sister), Bobbie (Bill’s late Mom) and Bill. This was taken on one of their fun visits to Terre Haute.
    A fun photo taken at Silver Dollar City in Missouri.
    This is actually my favorite pic of the two of us…
  • Fifty years ago and a convertible…

    It was a beautiful day in Memphis…May 1963.  We had just graduated from high school, and from the smiles on our faces, we were happy about that.  We all piled into this Morris Minor convertible and someone snapped the photo…magically capturing a moment in time.

    There were applications for college or other plans for futures already set in place.  There were over 200 of us in that graduating class.  I made it to the 10th and 20th KHS reunions, but most of my classmates I would never see again.  I wasn’t aware of that sad fact on this happy day above.

    Fifty years ago there were no computers as we know today, no internet, no email and most of us didn’t have automobiles.  We used the telephone to call one another as soon as we walked home from school to talk about our day.  Nevermind, we had just seen one another an hour or so before.  We were all great students with good grades.  We were in the Honor Society, Student Council, Talon yearbook staff and different other extracurricular activities.  We did a lot of things as groups – like roller skating on Friday nights.  We all loved roller skating!  I can still remember the thrill of skating fast in the roller rink to the sounds of the 50’s and 60’s rock and roll!  I loved skating backwards.  I would love to try roller skating again with my grandchildren…but somehow, fifty years later, I’m afraid I’d break a hip!

    Most of our mothers sewed our clothes and we all had great wardrobes.  To school we wore saddle oxfords and penny loafers (usually with white socks) or flats.  On Sundays, we wore “high heels” with hosiery.  By the time we were in college, the heels were really high and were called “spikes”!  Not as high as the platform “stilletos” today but definitely high heels.  Oh funny things, memories…

    I saw this photo for the first time yesterday on Facebook (shared by a friend in my KHS class and used with her permission).  The memories came flooding in.  You may think you have forgotten something but you haven’t.  Those memories are still there…just layered over with years and years of other memories in time.

    In case you can’t tell which one I am in the photos.  In the automobile, I’m the one standing up.  Photo below:  second from right.  😉

     

  • Time in a bottle…

    Remember the old Jim Croce song, “Time in a Bottle”?  Time is flying by.  I see the changes in my children, my grandchildren and especially myself.  I didn’t expect to stay young forever and, truthfully – in my heart and mind – I still feel like the young woman my daughter is today.  Too bad the rest of my BODY didn’t get the memo!  😉

    In a couple of months, my high school graduating class will celebrate our FIFTIETH high school reunion.  Unfortunately, I will miss it.  I have a hard time believing that FIFTY years have passed since I graduated from high school.  It seems like last week!  I think I can explain that rationale.  After six decades and a few years, our long term memory is actually better than our short term memory!  Go figure.

    In the spirit of nostalgia, I’ll share a few photos from yesterday – uh, I mean yesteryear…

    My first two children (fifteen and a half months apart) and I were out shopping one day.  Here, they were about two and a half and four years of age.  I decided to snap some photos of them in a Photomat.  I love their expressions!  Priceless photos and memories. 

    They’re all grown up now.  He’s a physician, happily married and the father of three daughters.  He was a missionary doctor in Peru for almost 7 years but thankfully they’re back in the states now.  She’s happily married and the mom of two sons and two daughters.  She has a degree in fine art and is a wonderful artist but has little time to paint between homeschooling and managing everyone’s busy schedule! 

    Where did all that time go?

     I love this photo.  This is my youngest with his beautiful strawberry blonde hair.  We had been camping in the Great Smokey Mountains that week.  Here, he was walking across a beam that was about two feet above the ground…that’s a lot when you’re barely three years old.  What you can’t see in the photo is that his dad and brother and sister were cheering him across.

    He’s all grown up now.  Happily married and the father of a beautiful 18 month old baby girl (and they’re expecting their second late summer).  He has always been an entertainer…for as long as I can remember.  Now, he’s the executive producer of a successful television show. 

    Where did all that time go? 

     In the three photos below, my sisters and I were having our usual “four sisters” photo taken at one of our gatherings.  The first photo was taken about 1961.  The other two in the mid-1980’s.   As always, there was plenty of kidding as we lined up.  The lower two priceless photos were taken at my late sister Gerry’s house on the hill.  Sadly, two of my sisters are now in Heaven.

    Where did all that time go?  

    Parts of this post were originally published in My Southern Heart

  • Kindred spirits…

    The past few months have been a challenge.  I’ve been through enough changes in my life that I scored quite high on the “stress level” meter.  I have fought to remain positive but, as you already know, that is sometimes beyond our reach.  When I first arrived in the Midwest six months ago, I spent two months living with my daughter and her precious family (my grandchildren thought they’d hit the jackpot!).  My belongings were stored floor to ceiling in her garage.  Not one word of complaint from her or my son-in-love, an amazing young man.

    When the worst of the depression hit months ago, I spent four days in an out-patient “depression class” which lasted all day long.  (Remember I was a Psych nurse for ten years and believe in getting help when needed!) When my grandchildren asked where I went early each morning, my daughter simply said “she’s going to a depression class”.  Each night at dinner, I had tales about who had joined the class that day (no names or details of course).  One day, a beautiful young Sandra Bullock-look-alike joined the class.  The next day it was Al Pacino’s double!  On my last day, Dennis Hopper showed up (nevermind he had died by then).  There was laughter at the dinner table and my grandchildren were so happy that Grandmom “graduated first in her class from depression school”!  Their words – not mine!  Mainly, they were glad I was home again during the day.

    When the time came for me to move into my own apartment/condo, my grandchildren weren’t so sure they wanted to part with me.  Thankfully, I’m only 14 minutes from them if I hit all the green lights just so.  They love coming over here.  They are my little kindred spirits.  They can read me like a book.  Especially my eight year old granddaughter.  She searches my face for signs that I am fine.  I may think that I am hiding tears or sadness from them, but they are not to be fooled.  Thankfully, there are very few tears now and even though they don’t realize it – they remind me, once again, that I am strong.  I am thankful for my daughter who is the biggest kindred spirit of all.  I am thankful for the closeness and the memories we are making.

    Spending time playing with grandchildren is the very best therapy in the world.  Anytime I am at my daughter’s or they are here, there is an abundance of laughter.  Laughter releases endorphins, the body’s natural painkiller, and makes anyone feel good…

    candle

  • Reflections on a rainy Sunday morning…

    It’s a cold and rainy Sunday morning in January.  I’m home from church this morning feeling under the weather and definitely disappointed that I won’t see my 8 year old granddaughter in her new ensemble that I made for her!  Hopefully, my daughter will take photos for me.  I saw her in it the other day after I finished it but she had just returned from swimming and her hair was wrapped in a towel.  Not quite the same effect as today will be!

    We spent yesterday at the Natatorium (love that word!) at the YMCA watching my 15, 13 and 8 year old grandchildren compete in a swim meet.  There were new “times” set and ribbons won.  They are all fast, strong swimmers and competed beautifully.  Afterwards, my daughter made totally homemade pizza (sauce and all) for dinner and it was delicious!  My now 4 year old grandson asked for “a few rounds of Sock Monkey” before I had to leave and how was I to say no to that?!  😉

    I’m in the process of slowly going through the 576 posts of my 4 year-long blog My Southern Heart.  I would like to find somewhere to have it published before I close the blog.  I published My Southern Heart…the Stories for my children for Christmas a couple of years ago, but my blog My Southern Heart is about 750 pages and too long for the publisher I used previously.  Any ideas or suggestions as to printers/publishers???

    In the process of going through the posts, I came across this one and was reminded, once again, of the wonder of it all – how the many traits and characteristics we possess are passed down from generation to generation…

    Fifty-Five Years and A Lock of Hair…

    Published January 2, 2012

    A box came down from the attic today that I knew held some treasures.  There were letters from my older son and my daughter when they were away at college.  There were letters I had written to my parents after we moved to Kentucky.  There was a card to my older son at college written by my third grade son telling his older brother that he ”didn’t like being an only child” and that he missed him.  The tears were falling, of course, as I continued to sort through these priceless treasures…

    Then I spotted the envelope written in Mama’s hand.  On the front it read “Dianne McGregor.  Lock of hair from September 28, 1957?.  55 years?!  I took the envelope outside into the sunlight and carefully pulled out the lock of hair and the small 55 year old rubber band.   (For a moment, I felt just like Bruce Willis when he meets himself as a child in the Disney movie, “The Kid”.)

    I know now why my youngest has beautiful strawberry blonde hair  (besides the fact his two grandmothers did as well).  I held the proof in my hands.  My hair was clearly blonde.  Strawberry blonde.

    A year or so ago, I tried having my hair a darker brown.  It didn’t feel right.  It didn’t feel like me.  Someone asked me, “what makes you think you’re a blonde?”  Besides my coloring and my memory?  I just knew.

    So, today, I held the 55 year old lock of hair in my hands.  It is the exact same color hair as several of my granddaughters.  I was eleven years old on September 28th, 1957…the same age as one of my granddaughters.

    I love the study of genetics.  The link from one generation to the next.  The circle of life…