In February 2011, I moved from Colorado Springs to Phoenix.  I loved living in Colorado Springs, but I had been laid off for the second time, due to downsizing or company being sold.  I was “redundant”.

I decided it was time for change, both in job and location.   I chose Phoenix, because it seemed to have more tech job opportunities but most importantly because my youngest son, DIL and two Grandsons lived there.  My third Grandson (7^th Grandchild) was born in 2016.

I had two wonderful Grandmothers, which I had an active relationship with until their passing when I was in my 40’s.  My sons had four fantastic Grandparents, so I had multiple examples of how “Grandmothering” was to be done.

To my four oldest Grandchildren (all girls), I was new to the job of Grandmother and it took a while to find my Grandmothering style.  I love all my grandchildren equally and am so proud of all of them. 

In Phoenix, I have attended soccer games, soccer practices, school programs, graduations, birthday parties (both Grandchildren’s parties and even sometimes their friends).  We have gone to the park, to museums and to special events.  We have had “spend the night with Gramma.”

I even became what I called “Gramma Uber”, filling in to drive the boys places when Mom and Dad were not available or after school pick up.

It has been a wild and exciting ride!

For the last couple of years, my Phoenix family have been talking about moving across the country.  Once it was discussed, I knew it would happen, just not sure when.

Everything came together about a month ago and once it was definitely decided, things happened fast.  At first it was a shock, that what was only a discussion had become a reality.  I wasn’t sure how I would react to being distanced from a very enjoyable, exciting part of my daily life. 

The last few months have been busy and sometimes very stressful with other things that were happening and admittedly, I did have one night when everything was just overwhelming and I cried.  But as always, things looked better the next morning and I embraced the change.

Last week was particularly hectic and there were last minute Gramma activities before they left. 

As the time grew close for them to leave, I wanted to tell the boys something profound that might help them in the transition.

These are the things I wanted to say.

• One of the greatest joys in my life has been being your Grandmother and Grandmother to your cousins.  It is only matched with the joy of being Mom to your Dad and Uncle.
• I will always be your advocate, your cheerleader and your biggest fan.  It does not matter how far away you are and how old you are or I am.
• I have tried my best and worked hard to be a good Grandmother to you and your cousins.  At times I have struggled but be assured everything I have done was done joyfully because I love you.
• Be Kind. 
• Embrace change, whether it is under your control or not.  There will always be change, sometimes because of good things and sometimes change you would rather not make.  Look forward to it. 
• Be happy.  Smile.  Laugh.  Always try to walk in the sunshine.  It is always there, just sometimes hard to find.
• Love your Mom and Dad and siblings.  Love is patient, Love is kind, and Love never fails.
• Remember your heritage and your ancestors.  Study your family history.  Learn who you came from.
• Be yourself.  You are enough.  Accept yourself for who you are and where you are.  Accept others. 
• Remember the times we have been together.  When you are grown and have children of your own, tell them about me (and your other grandparents) and the things we did.   It will make you smile and your children will know us.

Last week, when they all left, two driving and three flying, Gramma was there for their departure. All I could say was “Good Bye, I love you.  See you soon”

I hope our time together has been and will continue to say all the other things.

I will see you in four weeks.  I have already made my plane reservations.

The end of January I celebrated my 75^th birthday.  It is hard to believe I have been alive for three quarters of a century!  While I have the majority of my life behind me, I do have excellent genetic makeup for longevity and I continuously work on a healthy lifestyle.  My Dad is 103 and still active and enjoying life. 

Of course, like everyone else, I sometimes consider that this life is only temporary and to appreciate each day we have and try to make a difference, even if only a small one.  I am a Southerner, by birth and choice.  I lived the first forty years of my life in the south and in the thirty five years since my love for “Dixie” and things Southern has not changed.  My Mama made me a plaque years ago that said “American by Birth, Southern by the Grace of God”.  I think for me that is true.

In recent months, I have had several conversations with people about the South.  I always enjoy the discourse from those who are not native Southerners.  While their truth and views of the south are understandably different from mine, I only ask that anyone consider history and try to avoid stereotypes and appreciate the uniqueness and goodness of the South.

People I meet with often notice and point out that I “talk funny”; yes it is not only the accent but sometimes phrasing and colloquialisms.  I choose to embrace my accent and say that my trips back to the South are refresher courses.  I love to hear native Southerners ask “How Ya’ll doin’?”  Frequently, in my own life I will say I am “fixin’ to get ready to”; I don’t want to ever lose that uniqueness that ties me to Dixie.  And just because I embrace my accent does not mean I am ignorant, uneducated or bigoted.  It is just how I learned to talk.

The South that I loved and am still in love with is a place of class and graciousness.

Ladies wore hats and gloves.  A lady never had “bare” legs.  Girls wore dresses to school and either socks or tights.  Men opened car doors and walked on the outside on the sidewalk.  Southern women were feminine but their strength and resolve was unmatched.

There were teas and baby and bridal showers.  Thank you notes were mandatory for all gifts.  People sent cards for birthdays, anniversaries, weddings, births and sympathy.  We wrote letters.

In times of death, there were always meals taken to the family.  Cars pulled over on the side of the road and men would get out and take off their hats as the funeral procession passed.

We went to Grandma’s on Sunday afternoon.  Parents and Grandparents birthdays were remembered with cards, gifts and visits.  There were family reunions, picnics and other gatherings.  We knew our extended family and cousins were like siblings.

Summer time was barefoot, making clover chains.  Going to the swimming pool, bike rides and catching “lightning bugs”, Vacation Bible School was an event.

Mama and Daddy would take me to the Atlanta High Museum of Art, to the Fox Theatre and to the Varsity!  We would go to Davison’s (later Macy’s) when my Grandma Parish worked there and have supper at the S&W Cafeteria.

There were thunderstorms and puddles.  Ice and snow storms and days out of school.  I played in the woods behind our house with the neighbor kids.

These are my “treasures” and memories of the south.  It was a special time and I am fortunate to have been in that place at that time.  These are the things I think about.  This is my “South” my “Dixie”.

And when this life has concluded and I have moved on to the next it is my desire to be cremated and buried next to my Grandma in Georgia.  I will have gone full circle.

“When they lower me down in that Sweet Georgia ground, have someone play Dixie for me”

 (Song and Lyrics by Dry Branch Fire Squad)

Note:  I first heard “Have Someone Play Dixie for Me” in Telluride, Colorado at Blue Grass festival in the Early 2000’s. 

When I was a little girl, in the 50’s and 60’s, we always took a family vacation. Mama, Daddy, my brother, Pat and I would load up the car and hit the road. My favorite vacations were camping along the Blue Ridge Parkway and trips to Daytona Beach. We had a very structured day to day life and vacations, particularly to the beach, were like a fantasy.

I love the ocean! It is magical. I can sit and just watch the water for hours. I never wanted to go home to our ordinary life after a few days at the beach. To me going to the beach was “going through the mirror” to a special magical place that was usually only in our dreams.

I sit tonight on a balcony on the 13th floor overlooking the Bay of Banderas, just south of Puerto Vallarta. The last of the glow of the sunset is red along the horizon and Jupiter and Venus are glowing in the sky. The waves are crashing on the rocks and it is very loud.

Tomorrow we head home to Phoenix from the other side of the mirror. Again it has been a magical time near the ocean. This part of Mexico is mountainous, with beautiful flowers and trees. We saw whales in the ocean, hiked the botanical gardens, had dinner on the Malecon and went to the beach in Bucerias. We are traveling with family and friends, some of whom live in this area and it is very special to have this time with those I love and see Mexico through the eyes of those who call this beautiful place home.

The lights are twinkling, it is very peaceful. Gracias to the warm, friendly Mexican people, to my family (and extended family). I hope to be back soon.

Adios Amigos

Que Dios bendiga a México

When my oldest son was about three years old, we lived a few blocks from his Grandma and Granddaddy Dean.  They were in their early 50’s and Granddaddy was still working.  Grandma and Brian spent a lot of time together.  She called him her “sweet boy” and he loved spending time with her.  This was before they started playing Putt Putt Golf and other more physical activities.  Brian loved books and so did Grandma so they would often spend the afternoon reading.  During this time, Grandma and Granddaddy started going to Hollydale Methodist Church and asked if they could take Brian to Sunday School.  Of course he was anxious to do anything with them and he enjoyed it and made lifelong friends.  Not too long after that, Bill and I joined Hollydale Methodist and I too have many good memories and still stay in touch with some of the friends we made during that time.

Grandma bought Brian a children’s book of Bible Proverbs and she would read it to him.  Later when he learned to read, he would read it as well.  There is a picture of him at about six sitting in one of the ladder back chairs (which I think he now has in his home) reading this particular book.

While Grandma was working on his Religious/Christian education, his Dad and I were filling in some of the more worldly secular information, which has contributed to who he is today.

We were really into Country Western, particularly “outlaw” music and we would often see Waylon, Willie, Johnny Cash and Doc Watson before they were so famous.  We bought a lot of music on vinyl and a console stereo which we were apt to play very loud quite frequently.  Not everyone shared our love of loud honkytonk music blasting away on a warm spring afternoon.  I remember one neighbor in particular who would call and ask if we could please turn town the volume as she was not enjoying our music.  We later became good friends with this neighbor and laughed about it as we became a little more toned down.

One afternoon, Brian was visiting Grandma.  I don’t remember the exact occasion but I know I was not there.  They were talking about God and Brian with his sweet innocence asked “Grandma why ain’t there no God in Mexico?”  Grandma must have been shocked and she reassured him that God was everywhere and asked where did he get an idea that God was not in Mexico?  Apparently his answer was “it’s in the song”

Shortly thereafter, I received the call and the first question was “to what kind of inappropriate music is this innocent child exposed?”  When she told me the story, of course I laughed and said, it is a Waylon Jennings song that we play quite frequently.  As I recall, Grandma was not amused and cautioned me about being careful what I allowed Brian to listen too. 

This week, when I read about the Americans that were abducted in Matamoros, the song “Ain’t No God in Mexico” immediately ran through my head.  Because of the line “when you are down in Matamoros” I knew exactly where that was.  I had looked it up in the 70’s.  Because I lived in Georgia at that time, I had no idea I would move out of the South or ever go to Mexico.  I was in my early 20’s and very sheltered and naïve.  I was very unaware of what went on in other parts of the country or the world.

It has been over fifty years since that time and I have lived in the West for almost thirty four years.  I have been fortunate to visit different parts of Mexico.  I have extended family, whom I care very much about, that are from Mexico and live there now. I feel fortunate to have been able to visit with family and see the everyday Mexican life and as well as the tourist part of Mexico.  I have found the Mexican people to be warm, friendly, kind and very patient, especially with an old American woman who speaks only a few words of Spanish.  I have been to large cities and small villages and have found the residents proud of their country and history.  It is a beautiful country with fantastic architecture and historical sites. 

Recently, several people have asked me if I am afraid to go back to visit.  Some have even asked me not to go as they feel it is not safe.  I am planning a trip soon.  I would not go to a border town and of course I do not go out at night, drive or go outside of tourist areas.  I travel with people who know the areas, speak fluent Spanish and in most cases, live or have lived in the areas I visit. 

Of course, there is still some risk but there is risk in everything we do.  I am hopeful to keep making memories in this beautiful country and I have Grandma’s reassurance that Waylon is wrong, God is in Mexico.  I will pray for His protection and blessing for me and the Mexican people.

If you missed the 70’s, I suggest you listen to the album by Waylon Jennings “Honky Tonk Heros”

Adios Amigos!  See you soon!

I looked back at my last post and realized I haven’t “said” anything since late April.  Hmmm.  I have several drafts I have started but none of them seemed complete or right. This morning I deleted all of them!

I have been in a period of transition.  I like change, which is good, because it is inevitable.  My Mama told me years ago, that periodically I like to reinvent myself.  She was right. 

I have always been a goal setter.  I was raised with “to whom much is given, much is expected” and much of that expectation I put on myself.  I feel the need to accomplish something every day, even if it is just a small thing. 

The last three years, the pandemic, my parents deteriorating situation and my Mother’s death all put me in a tailspin.  During that time my A1C and cholesterol numbers soared and I gained weight and felt like a slug!  I was officially diagnosed with Type II Diabetes and high cholesterol.  I had to start on meds for the diabetes immediately and tried to reduce cholesterol with diet.  Unfortunately, my cholesterol stayed high and I had to start a low dose statin.  I have always tried to avoid taking prescription meds, preferring more natural solutions but it didn’t seem to be working.  Time for some changes.

At the end of April, I joined a gym and started working with a trainer.  My goal was to get healthier overall and feel good about myself.  I was very motivated and started working out three or four times a week.  I also was using my Fitbit and increased my goal steps to 7,000 a day.  I had Patrick take pictures of me in shorts and sports bra. Wow was that depressing!  I looked so old and flabby…and crooked!

The old I couldn’t do anything about, but the flabby and crooked I felt were changeable.

My first evaluation with the trainer was very disappointing.  While my weight and BMI were good, my muscle tone, strength, balance, body fat and endurance were awful.  That along with the pictures have been a great motivator.

Here I am, almost eight months later.  My pain levels are greatly reduced.  The exercise and weightlifting seem to have made a difference in achy joints and general pain. After almost thirty years, the migraines are almost nonexistent, thanks to a great neurologist. It has taken two years and very expensive medication, but worth it. I have gone from six to ten migraine days a month to less than one!

I have reduced my body fat and visceral fat and gained some muscle in the process.  Patrick teases me because I can flex and show off my improving arms!  I have lost back fat and some of my gut, but still a way to go.  I am definitely stronger!  On a good day, I can squat sixty pounds and leg press a hundred!

I have six more trainer sessions and then I am going to try it on my own for a while.  I am perfecting my form on Squats, Dead Lifts and Ham String curls, which all address my weaker parts.  I have found going to the gym without my phone, is a great way to detach and de-stress.  It is a good me time; I only focus on the task at hand which is to complete twenty minutes of cardio and three sets of eight exercises!

I did a similar workout program about thirteen years ago and accomplished my goals much more quickly.  Most of my life I have walked and been physically active, but at over seventy, the downhill slide didn’t take long, and it is taking a lot longer and a lot more work to get back in physical shape.

I have been gardening for the last year, learning what grows in Phoenix and experimenting.  I have always enjoyed “yard” work and even sweeping leaves is something I enjoy!  This is good because we have four large Chinese Elm trees which drop a lot of leaves, this is unusual in Phoenix.  Most people here don’t like deciduous trees and the warm climate and short winter keep things green. I have had success with herbs and some vegetables, and my winter garden is coming along slowly, but I am now harvesting grapefruit and a lot of jalapeno peppers. 

Today the sun is shining, I am a little sore from yesterday’s workout, but that means progress is being made.  I am having to cover some of the more tender plants as temps are dropping below forty degrees.  I don’t like the short winter days, but only a few more and then we start going the other way. 

I will be visiting my dad in Alabama for his 102^nd birthday the end of December.  He inspires me every day.  When I call, he is usually laughing, tells me about the weather and his exercise class.  He still likes fast food and lots of cookies.  He will say, I am OK, don’t worry about me, they (his Assisted Living Facility) take good care of me.  My son and his family are frequent visitors to Daddy. I am continually grateful for their patient and loving care for him. 

I have been given so much during my life, I am glad to have that reason to expect a lot from myself.

Wishing all of you a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

Peace and Love,

Linda

This morning I needed to make a quick trip to Home Depot to pick up some tomato stakes for my container garden.

It wasn’t worth “full” makeup, not much now is…but I thought I should at least make an effort not to scare people!  It has become necessary for me to use a lighted magnifying mirror to put on even minimal makeup, because my vision is so poor without my glasses.  When Patrick sees me applying makeup he calls it “doing the Bondo work.”

As I leaned over close to the lighted mirror, eyebrow pencil in hand, it occurred to me that I miss my eyebrows!  It seems that getting older has caused them to be quite thin and what I have are gray, so it is necessary to draw them on with a pencil.  I remember all of the years I pulled them out because they were so thick and out of shape.  Hmmm, I wonder if I had not done that if I would have more left.

As my mind wandered all of a sudden a sadness overtook me, I miss my Mama.  Then my mind continued to race on all of the things I miss.  Some of them silly things and some quite serious.  Some of them I could try to recreate, but most of the time, it is never as good the second (or third or fourth) time.

So I decided to make a list of all the things I miss and in doing so, I can remember all of the good times.

I miss…

Lightening Bugs– In the summer in Georgia they are quite prolific and when you catch them and put them in a jar, they have a very distinctive smell.  They do not exist in the West, but I remember all of the times that we waited for twilight in Georgia to catch them.

Paper Maps–My Daddy has always liked maps.  He and I cleaned out his desk drawers several months ago and there were numerous paper maps and map books.  He agreed to get rid of a large stack but still wanted to keep his map books and a Map of the southwest so he could see where my brother Pat and I lived.  When I was a little girl, I greatly disliked road trips.  I was assigned to the back seat and most trips, before air conditioning, were hot and long.  Daddy would give me a large folded paper map and taught me how to be the navigator.  At the time, there were few interstate highways and most of our trips were on highways going through lots of small towns.  I remember in particular South Georgia headed to Florida on vacation.  I learned to read the small numbers, usually in red or blue and add them up to the next town.  We would check the miles against the odometer and it was a fun game that made the trip go faster.  Later, when I was an adult, Daddy would draw me a map, usually from memory, with great detail as my guide.

Sunday Afternoon Family Visits—In my childhood, Sunday afternoons were usually spent with family.  Visits to Grandmas, Family picnics, Birthday Parties.  As a Mother of two sons, for their Dad and I spending Sunday afternoon with Grandparents was not only a tradition but an expectation.  At the time, it wasn’t always what I wanted to do but in retrospect, it was time well spent.

Produce Man—I don’t like self-service.  Grocery shopping has become such a chore.  Do you remember the Produce Man?  He usually wore an apron and you would pick out your fresh produce and take it to him.  He would put it in a brown paper bag, weigh it and mark the price with a red pencil.  When you were big enough, you Mama would let you take the produce to him to have it bagged and weighed.  It was exciting, you were actually old enough to help.  Young boys worked as baggers and not only would they bag your groceries, they willingly took them out and loaded them in your trunk.  Tip was usually a quarter.  The last three times Patrick and I have gone grocery shopping we have had to bag our own groceries.  When we asked about baggers, we were told with a shrug, there were only a couple working and they had been sent to parking lot to get carts. 

Hands on Doctors—Have you noticed that now when you go to the doctor, they sit in front of a computer and ask questions, type in answers and write prescriptions?  It seems we have evolved to such impersonal health care that doctors do not recognize patients as individuals with different needs.  I went for a physical and the doctor listened to my heart and that was all!  Blood pressure, weight, temperature and heart rate were checked by nurse.  I have Type II Diabetes.  There was a sign in the exam room that said “if you have been diagnosed with Diabetes, you will be asked to remove your shoes and socks for the doctor to check your feet”….hmmm, that didn’t happen, the doctor just looked at the computer and wanted me to take more drugs.

Thank you notes—I realize this is way out of date.  My Mama always wrote thank you notes.  Even when she was in memory care and had lost the ability to write very much, she wanted to send thank you notes for her Christmas gifts.  I helped her and it was a beautiful afternoon.  She reminded me that you should always say Thank you.  People don’t even say “thank you” anymore.  I admit, I am sometimes remiss in writing thank you notes, but my conscience will remind me that Mama would be disappointed in me and I try harder.  My friend, Nancy, always writes beautiful notes and my nieces have sent them as well.  Maybe they are the last holdouts.  To receive a beautiful handwritten note seems so elegant and genteel. 

Working—Yes I miss working.  I wanted to retire and get out of the high stress environment.  I thought I could replace the negatives of a pressure filled full time job with working part time at something I loved.  I am still working on this.  It seems, I could easily find a job, but the responsibilities of life seem to make it impossible to commit to even part time work. 

And most important

Mama—I miss my Mama, every day.  I want to hear her voice, look through an art book with her, watch birds, go to the museum, the fabric store, the antique store or the nursery and buy plants.   I want to walk with her, cook with her, go to Church with her.   We had so many good times and good memories, I will always long to do it “one more time”

Oh…and I still miss my eyebrows!

This morning on my walk, I was listening to what I call my “eclectic, extensive” music library.  I have found it unusual that even though it is supposed to be random, the music seems to play in themed sets.  Sometimes, like this morning, the songs all remind me of a certain time and place or of certain people.

This morning was definitely cowboy day.

I have known what I would consider three “real” cowboys in my lifetime. More than just the hat, boots and jeans, they all at times lived the cowboy life. By the time I knew them, most of their cowboy days were behind them, but they were all great storytellers and it was easy to imagine them in the freewheeling, hardworking lifestyle.

I began to think about the things they had in common.  I knew them at different times in my life and they did not know each other.

They were all individualists and yet there is something that is hard to define that they had in common.  All of them were hard on the outside, but there was an inner soul that was very approachable and almost sweet. 

They all believed in God and all at some point in their lives had faced death and won.  I wonder if that is true of most of us, maybe just more defined in these three.

And then, as I thought about who they were and their lives, it became apparent it was the mindset, not the activities that made me consider them real cowboys.

They all three loved women.  Not just pretty women or talented women or young women, but just a genuine love of the female gender. 

On the outside they were all men of few words, but once you were considered a friend they could all talk for hours…and it was always hard for me to discern what was truth and what was just a campfire story.

They all loved to laugh but underneath there was a great sadness to each.

They all seemed unafraid of anything and when they were around, people felt safe and protected. 

They were all outdoor kind of guys and self-sufficient.  I don’t think any of the three really needed anyone.

They all at one point lived on a working ranch.

They all wore boots, cowboy hats and jeans.

And then there are the differences –

Two were Viet Nam Vets, One was a draft dodger who spent the Vietnam years in Canada.

Two had motorcycles, two had pickup Trucks, and one was a drag racer.

Two had been rodeo cowboys.

One was a writer, one was a golfer, and two were shade tree mechanics.

Two were heavy drinkers, one was a teetotaler.

And as I look at this list, I realize that probably if you took any three men of my age range, you would probably have the same list.

I have lost touch with all of these three, I think two of them are gone from this world and maybe all three. 

So to all three of them, wherever you are, thank you for the laughs and and the joy and the fun and even the sadness. But most of all for the friendship and the life lessons. I hope you found peace and love in this life…if not, I hope you have found it in the hereafter.

“Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys

Don’t let ’em pick guitars and drive them old trucks

Make ’em be doctors and lawyers and such

Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys

‘Cause they’ll never stay home and they’re always alone

Even with someone they love

A cowboy ain’t easy to love and he’s harder to hold

He’d rather give you a song than diamonds or gold

Lonestar belt buckles and soft faded Levi’s

And each night begins a new day

If you don’t understand him and he don’t die young

He’ll probably just ride away

A cowboy loves smoky ol’ pool rooms and clear mountain mornings

Little warm puppies and children and girls of the night

Them that don’t know him won’t like him and them that do

Sometimes won’t know how to take him

He’s ain’t wrong, he’s just different and his pride won’t let him do

Things to make you think he’s right

Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys

Don’t let ’em pick guitars and drive them old trucks

Make ’em be doctors and lawyers and such

Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys

‘Cause they’ll never stay home and they’re always alone

Even with someone they love”

(Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson Lyrics originally by Ed Bruce)