Tag Archives: Family

Timepieces

27 May

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Author, Poet and Artist

I received my first watch when my maternal grandmother went home. I was seven years old. The watch was beautiful and fragile, and of course it had to be wound. I was as careful as could be, and I had it for what seemed like a long time. I wore it on my left wrist so I could tell my left hand from my right. I thought about Grandmother Mabel every day.

But all that doesn’t explain the reason for my becoming practically obsessed about knowing what time it was. I have a clock or two in every room of the house including the bathroom and on the porch, I have four timers (one on my IPod) and five watches that work. Even I know that is excessive.

I read a book once about a boy in a mental institution who was obsessed with timepieces, but I don’t think I’m as bad as him. No, I more or less just love knowing what time it is and I love the wide variety of time pieces available. If it helps to know…I didn’t plan all this it just snuck up on me.

You’ve head the saying, “The unexamined life is not worth living?”

Well, to me the unscheduled life is full of pitfalls such as: T. V., computer dabbling, novels, eating chocolates, and others signs of enjoyable depravity. I get depressed if I give in to overindulge or get to feeling lonely because I’m not doing something that takes a bit of effort and thought. But that’s just me. You do what you like, it’s your life.

When Bill retired he stopped wearing a watch. He almost gave up looking at clocks, so we sometimes ran a bit late, which of course freaked me. Now I’m adjusting and I can even make myself late if I get absorbed in one of my projects. Maybe I need more timepieces or…maybe I shouldn’t care so much what other people think. I really like my timepieces and they all work. Three need the bands fixed or replaced, but I’ve figured out how to make that happen, at least for one of them.

All my clocks and watches are inexpensive except for the one in the picture. I wouldn’t want a fancy gold or platinum one with real diamonds because I’d have to wear it night and day in order to justify its existence. Variety is, after all the spice of life.

 

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“Hour by hour I place my days in your hand.”

Psalm 31:15

 

 

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Father Daughter Action Plan

28 Apr

SUNDAY MEMORIES

Judy Wills

 JUDY

Father Daughter Action Plan 

That title in the Thursday newspaper reminded me of a time that our family enjoyed quite a bit.Back in the mid 1970’s, we were living on an AF Base and, because Fred was an officer, were required to be members of the Officer’s Club.  So, for the dues we had to pay for that pleasure, we thought to have a meal there at least once each month.  However, the food was less than great.

 While we were there, the club began giving out a “chit” for a free meal each month when they sent the bill, to encourage more attendance at their facility.

Well, we didn’t want to waste the “free” meal, even though we really didn’t enjoy eating there that much. But then a plan occurred to me – how about a Date Night between Father and Daughter?  Neither of the girls really had a lot of just “Daddy” time, so I thought this might be a good way for them to have some quality time with Daddy, and be treated like a lady should be treated by a gentleman.  And Fred is definitely a gentleman.  His momma taught him well!

So the plan went into action.  One supper evening each month, one of our daughters would get dressed to the nines, and would go to the O’ Club with Daddy.  He would help her into the car, pull out/push in her chair at the table, and they would just visit with each other while they ate.

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The next month, the other daughter would get dressed to the nines, and go to the O’ Club with Daddy.  And she would be treated like a lady by a gentleman.

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The girls loved it – they still say it is one of their fondest memories.  They would usually wear a long dress, get their hair fixed “just so,” possibly wear a “touch” of makeup, and be on their best behavior.   So each daughter had her quality time with Daddy, and Daddy got to know his girls a bit better.  Fun for all.

The remaining daughter and I would have hamburgers.

 

As a footnote to this:  when I told a good friend about this plan, she harumphed and said she would have to teach her husband to be a gentleman first!

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THE DOLL

14 Apr

SUNDAY MEMORIES

 Judy Wills

Judy

                                                     

My Aunt Jessie was a “collector” – of things.  She never married, so “things” became her main reason for living.  They were her enjoyment as well as her security blanket, I think.  But she also collected a variety of things that were unusual.  I’ll tell her story another time.

For now, I want to tell you about the doll.  Some of you may be old enough to remember – or have lived in a town large/small enough – that many women usually made or constructed their own clothing.  I was well into my teen years before I had any store-bought dresses.  Blue jeans, well yeah, those were garments we couldn’t sew ourselves.  But other items…..we purchased the fabric and sewed them up just to fit ourselves.

One of my favorite memories is going into the J.C. Penney’s store, and into the fabric department.  Round tables with bolt upon bolt of fabric standing upright, for our selection.  And usually, on top of that round table was a “model” doll – or mannequin –  with a dress or some type of garment made out of a sample of the fabric displayed on the table.  Someone was very crafty with their sewing machine!

don’t know when the J.C. Penney’s decided to discontinue the display on the mannequins, but I do know that Aunt Jessie was at the right place at the right time – and she acquired one of those dolls!  I have a picture of Aunt Jessie in 1950 in her house in San Antonio, Texas, with the mannequin in the background, so she had it a long time.

 

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Eventually, she gave me that mannequin, and I was still young enough to play with it – dress it in the many different “outfits” that we had for her.

After Fred and I married and moved away, I left the mannequin with Mother.  At one point in time she owned and operated a cosmetic studio, and used the mannequin in her display window.  Very effective!

 

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I still have that mannequin.  I’m hoping that one of my granddaughters will eventually like to have it.  It’s a unique piece of American history, and a very fond memory for me.

 

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The Roses

13 Apr

On the Porch

Onisha Ellis

Onisha

Some of you might think the idea of allowing a legally blind man who also has early Alzheimer’s to give you driving directions might be a bad idea, and you would be right but last Thursday it turned out to be a wonderful.

My aunt had to have surgery and we were staying with my uncle Paul who is my mother’s brother. The day after her surgery, Paul insisted that on the way to the hospital we stop at the town florist to get a nice bouquet of flowers.  This sounds simple but we had no idea where the florist was located. “Can you tell us how to get there?” we asked.  “Sure I can” he replied, so taking him at his word we set out.

We knew how to get to the hospital but once we turned off the main highway we had no idea where we were. Sitting in the back seat I sent up a quick prayer. “Lord, we are taking directions from an almost blind man whose mind isn’t always clear. This doesn’t seem real smart but he really wants to do this so I am trusting you.”

As my husband drove I searched the sides of the street for florist signs. Every time I saw one, I asked, “is that it uncle Paul? “I was so sure he wouldn’t be able to see it but every time he said no, that’s not it. Finally he spied the florist and gave my husband directions how to get to it. Uncle Paul was very tired and out of breath that morning and it was quite an ordeal for him to get out of the car and into the store. As we slowly walked in, a sweet sales lady approached us and mouthed, “Is that Mr H?”  “It is “I replied. She gave me an understanding smile and explained to my uncle that she was a friend of his son. When my uncle explained that he wanted some nice flowers for his wife who was in the hospital, she led him to the cooler and told him if he didn’t see anything he liked she would make something for him right then. Uncle couldn’t really see the flowers so he chose roses.

Making it to the florist and being treated with such kindness would have made it a great morning but God is into abundance. Leaving the florist parking lot uncle Paul instructed my husband to not go back the way we came but to go on through town. Well, Lord, I thought we made it to the florist, I guess we will make it to the hospital. We hadn’t gone a mile when uncle Paul told Mike to turn and Mike missed it. We began looking for a place to turn around then uncle Paul said just keep going straight, we can make this work. We were driving through the countryside when he casually pointed to the right and said that is one of the places papa farmed. Swiveling my head to look, I asked “did he farm it when you lived at home?” Yes, he said, “all we young’uns worked the farm.”

My parents were raised in North Carolina but I was raised in Florida. When I was a child they had driven me around the small farming community where my mother grew up, but being a child I just didn’t pay that much attention. Since she died, I had a hungering in my heart to revisit those places. The farms were mostly gone, replaced with housing developments but my imagination could picture her there, running through fields barefoot and up to mischief.

We made it to the hospital with no problem and my uncle proudly carried the vase of roses on his lap and we wheeled him into the hospital room. He had no idea; God had used him to deliver one of my heart’s desires.

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I HAVE TO BE ME

12 Apr

         From the Heart

       Louise Gibson

                         I am fighting the battle of resistance.
                         I have to be me, in spite of insistence.
                         The world is doing its best night and day
                         to alter my thinking, to follow its way.
                        Commercials tell me what I should buy,
                        Etiquette dictates the “how” and the “why”.
                        Experience has proven to be my friend.
                        My values I no longer have to defend.
                        Don’t try to make me an image of you.
                        It is so refreshing to have one’s own view.
                        No longer young, my spirit tells me.
                        In spite of man’s thinking, I have to be Me!

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UNCLE JESS

7 Apr

SUNDAY MEMORIES

 Judy Wills

Judy

 I have a really quirky family.  And most of them I have enjoyed through the years – or stories about them.

 My Mother’s family is originally from Ireland, with a good old name of McBratney.  I don’t know a lot about the family history, but only some from my Great-grandfather on.  He was one of 11 children, eight of them male.  I know that they called themselves “The Boys” and got together occasionally.

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About the time I was “aware” of life, there were only four “boys” left, my great-grandfather not being one of them.  I made a trip to Kansas once with my Aunt Jessie and Granny, and got to see them then.  However, my fondest memories are in 1958 when those four “boys” came to Albuquerque for a visit.  They were my Granny’s uncles, my Mother’s great-uncles, and so my great-great-uncles.  But they were fun and funny to be around.

 

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While I enjoyed them all, I guess Uncle Jess was the one I remember the most.

 

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And this story about him always delights me – and makes others laugh when I tell it.Back in 1958, one of the favorite things to do was to grill steaks on the outside grill.  Big, thick, juicy steaks – lots of fat to flavor the meat – special seasoning to give it just the right tenderness and flavor.  You remember, right?

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Well, one of those times, after the meat had been cooked and all were seated at the table, Uncle Jess began to meticulously cut all the fat from off his steak….and then proceeded to EAT THE FAT!  My Mother exclaimed – “Uncle Jess!  The doctor told you not to eat the fat on your steaks!”  And he calmly replied, “No he didn’t.  He only told me to be sure and cut it off.”

 

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As I said, he was a sweetheart!

 

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Mother Said

1 Apr

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Photo by Melodie Hendrix

Photo by Melodie Hendrix

This week I wrote the wrong day in my journal. Wait, before you get in a tizzy, think about what Mother would have said. “You’ll never know the difference a hundred years from now.” You’re right, Mother, I thought and went on with what I was doing.

Like most mothers, mine had an abundance of things to say. Sometimes she was joking, or I hoped she was, as when she would say, “Now don’t be afraid of the storm, if lightning strikes you, you’ll never know the difference.” I must say, I have no fear of lightning, so she must have been on the right track. Afraid someone might kidnap you? Here’s what Mother would say: “Don’t worry, the minute they get you under a street light they’ll bring you right back.” Want to run away to Grandmother’s house, but wonder how you’re going to get the fifty miles down the mountain by yourself when you’re only a kid? Mother’s suggestion: “Here’s a nickel, don’t spend it all in one place.”

How about if your dress has a small spot on it and you’re ready to go out the door? “They’ll never know the difference on a galloping horse.”

Mother had some nice saying, too. She learned them from Auntie Elvira her first Sunday school teacher, who was my first Sunday school teacher too. When my brother and I fought the word was, “Be ye kind, one to another, tender, loving, forgiving each other.” Okay, Mom, I’ll try. If I wanted to say something bad about someone who had hurt my feelings she’d caution, “Ask yourself: is it kind, is it true, and do I have to tell it.” At least one of those is going to have a no, so forget it.

Ephesians 6:1 Children obey your parents for this is right.

 

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Enjoy the Differences

25 Mar

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Photo by Melodie Hendrix

Photo by Melodie Hendrix

The other day Bill and I were in the kitchen cooking breakfast, and he told me about a dream he had. He was working with my dad, something he did whenever the folks came from California for a visit or we went there. Dad loved to putter and fix things. Bill wanted to hang out with him, so they did projects that mother and I came up with for them.

Bill is an engineer; Dad was a man of many trades, race jockey, welder, gas company manager, large equipment fixer in a tomato factory, meat cutter, restaurant owner, pilot, and, most important, fisherman. Ah well, you get the picture; he could do many things.

Bill can do anything, too, or so it seems to me. He was mostly a mechanical engineer with the Space program, specializing in ordnance.

So anyhow, the dream was about Bill and Dad working together. In the dream, Bill was frustrated as he always was when he worked alongside Dad. Dad put his tools down just any old where and couldn’t’ find them the next time he needed them. He drilled big holes with gusto when Bill thought smaller, more sedate holes would have given a closer tolerance and worked better. Dad’s been home in heaven a while now, and we laughed at the silly dream until I started to cry. I hardly ever cry so it felt good.

I finally figured out why I was crying. I could see Dad and Bill in the driveway working on something. I could have walked out there, joined them, and got a lot of joy seeing the two of them together and being amused by the differences in work styles. If it were now, I wouldn’t need to try to make one like the other or change them. Now that I’m older, can see how unique each person is. I can accept them and enjoy the differences. It makes life a lot more fun and less stressful, too.

Psalm 139:13

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OUR CRUISE TO MEXICO – Part 3

24 Mar

SUNDAY MEMORIES

 Judy Wills

Judy

                                                     

The next day, our port of call was Cozumel.  We docked at a small island and caught a fast ferry boat to Playa del Carmen.  Very touristy town.

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Brian had pre-arranged a car/van for the six of us to take us to Tulum and the Mayan ruins there.  The car was arranged through Avis, so we thought we were safe.  However, when we tried to find the address where the Avis rental store was – it wasn’t there!  We even checked in with the police station, and they had no clue where it was!  Brian actually called Avis to find out what was going on.  Finally, after walking around the town for about an hour, he was able to find out they had built a lovely new showroom – on the outskirts of town!  Apparently the Avis company didn’t realize this – had no record of it, etc.  In any case, we climbed into two taxi’s, and were on our way.

While the rest of us freshened up, Brian got the car.  Turns out, they had given away the van he had reserved, and the only vehicle they had was a Jeep that only held five bodies, so Katie sprawled in the luggage area of the vehicle.  Not very comfortable.

And especially not comfortable when we were hurtling down the road at 60 mph and came to an unmarked HUGE speed bump!  She was literally bounced to the roof of the car, and banged her head, causing her to cry out!  After this happened the second time, she tearfully announced that Forrest was riding back there on the way back!!  There were three speed bumps on that road, and only the third one was marked!

We finally arrived at Tulum.  We had a light lunch, and Brian arranged with a local to be our guide through the ruins.  Before we headed off, we were treated to a show of pole dancers.  No, it’s not what you think – this was a group of four men, dressed in native costume, at the top of a tall pole, who allowed themselves to be dropped nearly to the bottom of the pole (and the ground!) and swung around.  Very festive, but certainly not something I would want to attempt.

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And then we began our tour of the ruins.  Fred and I have always enjoyed roaming around ruins – whether in New Mexico, Texas, Europe, or now Mexico.  Our girls enjoyed it, as well, so this would be a fun trip.We were quite interested in seeing the “village” and the building there.  We saw the temple and it’s outbuildings.

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One structure that interested us quite a bit was at the top of a hill.  Our guide, Ernie, said that it was an “early warning system” that the Mayan’s had built-in for hurricanes.  When a hurricane was coming, the wind would blow through that building – or the “hole” within it – and make a unique sound.  And it only sounded when a hurricane was approaching – no other storm would make that same sound.  Fred, being a meteorologist, was fascinated by this piece of information and the ingenuity of those ancient peoples.

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When we returned to Playa del Carmen, Brian dropped us off and he went to return the car.  We were concerned that he wouldn’t get back to the ferry in time to make the ship, but did – running at top speed!

More to come……….

 

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Backyard Shootout

13 Feb

A Slice of Life

   Bill Lites

Bill

 As I remember how it happened, one day several years ago, I was looking for something in our attic, when I came across an old pair of suede cowboy boots that I hadn’t worn in years.  I got them down, tried them on, and they still fit.  That prompted me to look for the really neat felt cowboy hat I had worn with those boots when I made business trips to California.  After the job was over, on my way back to Florida, I would usually take a couple vacation days and stop to see my mother and aunt in Albuquerque.  The boots and hat were always in style there and I enjoyed the casual Southwestern atmosphere that allowed me to wear my Western duds.  I had spent my growing up years in Albuquerque, and had pretty much lived in western clothes until I moved away from there when I was 18.

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With boots and hat in hand, I got out one of my best Western shirts and some Levis to see if DiVoran would remember her “Bill” of the past

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When our daughter, Renie, saw me wearing the hat, she wanted to see how she would look in it.  She found a vest and after much fussing with hair and clothes, she came out to show us her outfit.  “Beautiful.” I said, and told her she could wear the hat anytime she wanted to.

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It was the same with our son Billy, the next time he was over, except he wanted to try out the whole outfit.  That’s when I remembered a matched pair of fake revolvers and handmade Mexican holsters my aunt, Jessie, had given me when I was in college.  She had worn them when riding horseback in annual parades as a young woman in the 1930’s while living in Texas.

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Well, that made quite a sight, when Billy walked around our back yard pretending to be participating in “Quick Draw Shootouts” with the bad guys.  It was a Kodak moment, and as you can see, we didn’t let it get by without a photo to remember the occasion.

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Now our son, Billy, has an 18-year-old son, Jacob, and DiVoran persuaded me to give him my vintage leather jacket, so now it is in good hands.  Who knows, someday somebody else in the family may wear my cherished boots, hat, holster and jacket,

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Note:  We still have my grandfather’s denim work jacket from the 1920’s with the patches             my grandmother sewed on it.  I can’t wear it though because the sleeves are too short.

Scripture:  Isaiah 61:10

                                               

 

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