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 photo above – I’m the one standing up.  In the photo below I am second from right.

Originally published in my other blog, Sweet Journey Home.

Remembering Daddy...

Today is Daddy's birthday.  I am wondering if birthdays are celebrated in Heaven. If so - and I'm inclined to think they are - then Mama, Daddy, my sisters Dot and Gerry, Bill - my husband of 39 years and his parents Frank and Bobbie, my maternal and paternal grandparents and all the host of family and friends who've gone before are celebrating this sweet and gentle man's life.

Time has eased the deep pain of losing each of my parents, but I miss them still.   I miss my sisters.  I miss hearing their voices and their sweet counsel whenever I shared a problem or decision I was facing.  I especially miss the times we four sisters had together and all the laughter.  I'm thankful that my sister Eunice remains on this earth with me and I've told her that I have to go first!  Funny, I know, but I was serious!

Christmas of 2011, I had (most of) this blog professionally published as a gift for my children, grandchildren, my sister Eunice and all my nieces and nephews.  Needless to say, it was an expensive Christmas but well worth it.  I'm better at expressing myself on paper than in person and I wanted my children to know as many of the stories that I could remember.

I'm thankful for a legacy that may not have included an abundance of possessions...but a great deal of love.




Photo above:  My youngest with my Dad - his "Papaw" - when he was about three years old.

Happy Birthday, Mama...

 

Mama was born on the 4th of July. Every year, the family gathered for a picnic and cookout with all the trimmings in her honor. In later years, it was held at my oldest sister Dot's house because she had a swimming pool. Memphis is hot in the summertime and the kids loved the pool. Dot would bake a large chocolate sheet cake with a hint of cinnamon and a delicious chocolate icing. Sometimes, she'd decorate the top. It was so very good. My mouth waters just remembering. With the cake, there would be homemade vanilla ice cream, usually my sister Gerry's specialty. Before dessert, of course, there would be delicious grilled hamburgers, baked beans, potato salad and other wonderful dishes. In later years, we'd sometimes order Memphis barbeque at its best - from Corky's.

Yes, I know that July 4th represents Independence Day...but not to me. To me, it is Mama's birthday. The day is filled with memories that make me wish I could turn the clock back and we'd all be together celebrating. Little did I know then, how quickly time would pass...

Dianne and Gerry at Mama's 4th of July birthday party at Dot's house. About 1990.

Legacy...

As published in My Southern Heart...

Today is my Daddy’s birthday and I’m missing him. He was born on February 17, 1905…the youngest of seven children. His father and grandfather before him were farmers in the rich farmland of the Mississippi Delta. With a legacy bestowed by their Scottish immigrant ancestors, they had strong work ethics, Christian values and believed in the strength of family.

I never heard my Daddy raise his voice in anger or utter a curse word in my entire life. He was a strong but gentle man. As the father of four daughters, he was mellow and laid-back – I supposed he had to be. With a quick and ready smile, he had a good sense of humor. As children, my niece Sharon and I would get to laughing at the supper table and could easily get him to laugh. On more than a few occasions, we were sent from the table until we regained our composure.

He and Mama spent a lifetime together. After a severe stroke claimed her speech and altered her personality, he was kind and patient with her. In the last few months of his life, one of his favorite country songs that he would listen to often was “I’ll Go to My Grave Loving You” by the Statler Brothers. He loved her and us, his four daughters, with all his heart. He also loved his grandchildren. I just wish that he could have lived long enough to meet my grandchildren. My oldest grandson has my Daddy’s olive complexion, dark brown eyes and very dark brown hair. My Dad was the only grandparent or great-grandparent with those features, and I love the fact that my grandson inherited them.

Daddy was an “old-time” Democrat, which my son says today would, most likely, be the Libertarian party. He believed in searching for the candidate who would be the strongest leader…the one with the most integrity and character. He was also not fond of “big government”. I’ve wondered what he would have to say about the November election and which candidate he would choose. I think I have an idea.

I’m truly thankful for the legacy that my parents left my sisters and me…

One amazing life...

In memory of my sister, Sarah Geraldine “Gerry” McGregor Harden.  

August 1, 1930 – October 13, 2011

I was in Chicago when the sad news came.  My sister had lost her courageous battle with ALS (Lou Gehrig’s Disease).  She was, at that moment, in Heaven…surrounded by a host of loved ones who’d gone before.  The Bible says “absent from the body, present with the Lord”.  Praise God!

I changed my reservations and flew South.  My plans had been to travel South on Sunday and spend the week with my sister…but Heaven needed her sooner.    On Sunday, we celebrated the amazing life of my beautiful sister at her funeral service in the church she has attended for 50+ years. There in the midst of the beautiful stained glass windows and an exquisite blanket of Autumn flowers, a host of family and friends met to remember and grieve together. I was reminded of the song “Thank You for giving to the Lord” for that is what she did.  Because she loved her Saviour, she gave so selflessly…to each and every one of us, her family…and the very long line of friends at the church. We love you and miss you, Gerry, but we’ll see you again in Heaven. How I thank God that I am so blessed to call you SISTER.

The Fourth of July...

Mama was born on July 4, 1904, in the "hills" of Mississippi to parents of Irish ancestry...parents who cherished their six children, three sons and three daughters. As a young woman, Mama had strawberry blonde hair, blue eyes and was very petite. Even at her tallest, before the osteoporosis in later years, she was barely five feet. Although she never had the opportunity to pursue training, she could play the piano and organ "by ear" and sang beautifully. An accomplished seamstress, she possessed an amazing talent with a needle and thread. Through the years, she made much of our clothing, quilts and curtains. She was artistic and could sketch whatever she wanted to create. Down through the years, I would see these same talents emerge in her daughters, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

In the course of working on my family's ancestry, I found a newspaper clipping from the newspaper in the small Mississippi town where she, my dad and my sisters lived before I was born. There was a description of the large fourth of July birthday party the family gave for Mama and all the relatives who attended. It talks about everyone enjoying the great food, especially the homemade ice cream. I could just imagine all those tables set up outside beneath those tall Mississippi pines on a hot summer's day.

All through the years as I was growing up, and even when my children were young, my sisters and our families would get together for Thanksgiving, Christmas and the fourth of July for Mama's birthday.  In later years, when everyone had their own traditions for Thanksgiving and Christmas, it was the Fourth of July that became our family reunion time...and a celebration of Mama's birthday. It was a fun time with the entire family together, celebrating with an abundance of good food and much laughter. 

After Mama and Daddy both passed away, my sisters and I tried to continue the fourth of July tradition. Eventually, the family grew even larger with an ever widening circle as each of our children married, had children and started traditions of their own.   In time, the fourth of July celebration was just a memory...but a deeply embedded one
.

My sisters and I...about 1960.

Father's Day...

Today is Father's Day and my mind is full of memories. I was 45 years old when I lost my Dad at the age of 86. I look back now and realize that forty-five was young to lose my father, but my children would be younger still when they lost their Dad.

Life is precious...and altogether fragile. Five years ago, my children and I came face to face with that fact when their father had a sudden massive coronary; and, at the all too young age of 62, he was gone. He had been the love of my life for forty years...four decades. We'd had a sad ending to our story for after 39 years of marriage, it had ended in divorce. My heart had been broken, but I had loved him still even then. Seven and a half months later, he was gone. I was left with memories and a string of what-ifs. It was an extremely hard time for my children and me. We'd all had so much to deal with in the loss of the family as we'd known it and then a loss so great it would take years to heal. Time helps a little. Over time, pain has a way of softening at the edges.

He was a wonderful Dad and my children miss him so much. I miss him.  I'm sad that he never really knew our grandchildren as they got older. That hurts a lot. I try to talk about him when I'm with them. I tell them little ways my son or daughter is like their father. I show them pictures and I tell them about him. I don't want them to forget him...although they were so young they barely remember him. I'd like to think that somehow he will know it when our newest grandbaby...a precious little girl...is born this September.  I love my children so very much and I'm glad he was their father. 

He died in the month of April, and that first Father's Day after his death, there was so much pain and hurt for all of us.  I wanted something that would, in a way, be "from him" for our children.  For our daughter, I chose the little Willow Tree "Father and Daughter" carving and for our two sons the "Father and Son" carving.  I hope each time they look at it, they remember all the good times and the great memories...for there were a lot of those.

I'm in the process of scanning forty years worth of photos...a lifetime.  I want each of my children to have a record of our family.  It will take me a while but this is important; and I will get it done.

Just a few of the memories of a lifetime...

(The order of everything is still a time-intensive work-in-progress but I wanted to show the slideshow with this post.)