A town and it's traditions

Today is the annual Square Dance in Tellico Plains. It's always on the Saturday before the 4th and has been a tradition for over 50 years. When the tradition first started it was to launch the wagon train that left for Murphy NC and it actually consisted of real square dancing and a lot of it. I remember in the 2nd grade my teacher actually taught us square dancing and I'm fairly certain some of my fellow students in my class really showed off their talents that year of dosido'ing. Through the years the square dancing has slacked off. There's still a few who showcase their ability of the lost art but not like there used to be when it first started. There's still the music and people gathering in the streets of town to visit and celebrate the day.

 The wagon train was a huge deal. People came from all over with their covered wagons and  supplies packed up ready for the yearly journey through the mountains. Men, women and children alike made the journey and most of the town would be there to send them off. One man (Chester from a previous blog) actually walked the entire trail behind the wagons one year. Charles Hall who was the Mayor of Tellico Plains for many years was a big part of the wagon train (these are his pictures from his museum that has pictures through the years of the wagon train history).

The original theme of the 4th of July Square Dance may have lessened in popularity over the years but the fellowship is still the same. Quoting Patrick Hawkins (the Mayor) from his interview with the paper, "It's more like a family reunion now with friends and family." The important part is that the town has maintained the tradition.
In the winter we have the candlelight walk. The town is decorated as far as the eye can see with luminaries that are lit with candles all down the streets and the sidewalks. The local businesses open their doors for cups of hot chocolate, the Methodist Church opens it doors to people who want to warm up by the fire outside the church and they have homemade cookies galore, hot chocolate and coffee to whoever wants it. They even take turns carrying trays to the bottom of the hill to wait for the next horse and buggy that comes through with passengers to treat them. We even have our own Grinch and his cave. And there are characters from The Christmas Carol who mingle throughout the crowd. And my personal favorite it the Cookie Caper sponsored by the Cherokee Women's Club where you can buy cookies of any flavor that your heart desires. The evening festivities are started off with the Mayor (Patrick) lighting the town Christmas tree. Oh and I can't forget to mention the gingerbread house competition that brings out the artistic creation of all ages.

 

 

A tradition is not always in the form of a town celebration. It's something that through passion and desire to pass on to generations to come. My own children have followed suit with the simple tradition of jumping off the steel bridge that is up on the river. They have gone with friends and family over the years and carried on the tradition that was started more years ago than I can count. During the hot summer days, on any day of the week, you can drive up the river and see kids and adults too standing there patiently awaiting their time to jump into the cold river to cool off. I imagine that like the yearly 4th of July square dance and the candlelight walk this tradition will go on long after I am gone.

 

Traditions are a wonderful thing. It's something that is more than a date circled on the calendar, it's something to look forward to and something to look back on. It's not just yearly a yearly get together event, it's something that becomes a part of you through the years. Whether it be a square dance, a candlelight walk or jumping off the "made famous" bridge, it's nice to be a part of history and it's a chance to make a memory.

My sun room...my refuge

A couple years ago when I decided to buy the house that I grew up in I made a few changes here and there. One of the things that I wanted was a sun room. I have to say it was probably the best decision I made with all the remodeling.
I'm sitting in that sun room this morning drinking my coffee and thinking about how much I love this addition to my house. I never realized just what this little room means to me. I can sit here and watch the kids play basketball on the court to my left or watch my granddaughter play outside. Or I can look across my driveway and see my brother sitting on the porch relaxing before he goes to work or look up the hill at my mom working in her flower garden. I can't count the nights that I have had my "alone time" sitting her on my computer or just drinking a glass of tea and listening to the katydids. I have had heart to heart talks with my mom in this room, lectures with my kids and late night talks with friends or a bunch of teenagers telling me about their day before they retire in the house for sleepovers. During the summertime almost every meal we eat of a night is eaten in the sun room. It's a room that is my refuge for solitude while I watch the rest of the world around me go on and a room of fellowship when the chairs and the floor are full of people and the laughter seeps through the screens to chime in with the music of the crickets. I have sat here in this room through thunderstorms and watched the rain and sat here in the peace and quiet and watched the lightening bugs illuminate my yard at night.
I sit here and watch the hustle and bustle of the busy back road that is traveled by neighbors, friends, family, sight seers and even an occasional scene out of Cops when someone evading the law thinks they can escape by the means of a country road. Then there are mornings like today when there isn't much to see going on but I can sit here and listen to the wind blow through the trees and savor the blessings of God's handiwork all around me. There's just something about this room that puts life into a different perspective.
I wish that my dad were still here. He would have loved this room as much as my mom does. I know that he and I would've have had many talks in this room. I can see him now getting all to comfortable with a cup of coffee and a cigarette as he settles in to talk a while.
There's just something about this room that offers a sense of tranquility and peace; even when there's air soft wars going on outside and 7 or 8 teenagers romp through here in pursuit of a Dr. Pepper or a Mountain Dew.
To some people I'm sure it's just an addition to my house, an investment that raises the value, or a room to pass through into my house. To me it's worth every penny that I put into it. It's a haven that has housed many hours of laughter and more memories than I can count. The corners seem to pile up some times with odds and ends; it's nothing elaborate or decorated with expensive furniture. It's just a simple room with a wonderful purpose - peace, laughter and solitude.
The world is just a better place in this little corner of my house. Yes, I think everyone needs a sun room.

Making out a bucket list....finally!

So I have been contemplating a bucket list. When you pass 40 it makes you want to look at the bucket in a more friendly way than just kicking it I suppose. I have every intention of making one I just never take the time to.
This week I did something that I have wanted to do, but always been scared to do in a sober state of mind. I let Patrick and my friend Debbie talk me onto the stage to try my hand (or should I say voice) at Karaoke with them. (Thank goodness they were up there with me or I would have probably ran out the door) I had sung in front of many people at church through the years and was nervous, but for some reason grabbing the mic to sing a song that I only sing to the top of my lungs going 65 mph down the highway with the shield of rolled up windows seemed to petrify me. I think at one time I tried to Karaoke when it first became popular, but to be honest that was in my younger days and I was probably overly influenced by a fruity drink with a tiny red straw in it, so obviously I have no recollection of it.
After a short pouting fit of having my name handed to the man behind the musical machine that could either lead me to stardom or drive people by droves out of the establishment, I finally mustered up the courage (being dragged of course helped) to climb up on the stage. For a mere 3 or 4 minutes I stood up there and belted out Rocky Top to an adoring crowd of East Tennesseans. Apparently I hit all the right notes or there was just an excessive amount of cheers from a more than half intoxicated audience that would have cheered the same for Molly our pig standing up there crooning to them. Either way I did it and crossed that off an impending list that has been circulating through my mind for years.
I was so proud of myself that it encouraged me to actually write my list down and start trying to take advantage of opportunities to cross each of my dreams off. Now I am quite certain that some of these things I want to do will merely remain a fantasy to me - like going to France or actually riding a roller coaster; but some of them I really hope I can do.
Since I started dating Patrick all those years ago I have actually been able to do things that I never thought possible on the income of a single mom. I have been to New York, which has been my dream since I was old enough to know what the Big Apple was; I have been to Vegas, and although I didn't come away with a jackpot that would financially stabilize me and my kids, I still got to experience it. Both trips I flew to where I was going after I promised myself that I wouldn't do after a near brush with death on a runway over 20 years ago - and actually loved it both these times. Of course I'm sure that it was the encouragement spawned off of a tiny white pill that relaxed me so much I could have strapped myself to the wing of the plane and not known any difference from riding there or in my seat that got me through the flight. Regardless I did it and that is all that really matters.
I want to take a cruise to some exotic island with Patrick and sit on the beach looking at the view that you see in the centerfold of a travel magazine and would really like to be able to do it while looking like Jennifer Aniston at the same time in my string bikini. Somehow it just takes away from the romance of lounging on the sand when I think of looking more like Roseanne Barr in a bikini that would take a search warrant to find most of it.
I would love to buy a camper and spend weekends in the mountains and condition myself to be able to ride a bike on the trails without requiring the Rescue Squad to follow at least 50 ft. behind me - "just in case...."
I really want to write a book and it be one of those that makes it to a book club meeting that everyone just raves about how they couldn't put it down. Even it's just a children's book that makes it to the list of the favorite ones read by kindergarten classes - that's okay too.
Adding to the list would be having a weekend away at the beach with my closest girlfriends; laying out in the sun all day, eating seafood every night and sitting on a balcony laughing and reminiscing about old times at the end of the days. A weekend at an inn in Charleston would have to be included. Just me and Patrick on this trip though taking carriage rides and having long walks in the moonlight holding hands.
And I think it would be amazing to be able to go on a mission trip to experience the wonders of telling people in other countries about God and seeing the look on their faces when they hear about Him for the first time. I think that would be the most fulfilling thing of all.
Last but not least (so far) would be being able to take my kids and my granddaughter to Disney World and being able to lavish them with a time of their lives. That would be some amazing memories and would top it all off perfectly to travel on over to Sea World while we were there.
I suppose that a lot of these things are selfish perhaps, some a little silly and most of them way out of my league of being able to accomplish. But that's the great thing about making out a list of your dreams - being able to look at it and close your eyes imagining it. Maybe one day I'll cross one or two of these off (and with almost certainty it won't be the one of looking like Jennifer Aniston is a bikini) but regardless as long as I can find the courage to do at least some of them then it will just add to the amazing things that I have already been blessed to do and experience. And if I don't get to see France or own a camper it won't take away from the adventures that I have already went through. I'm already more blessed than I deserve to be - those things would just be added bonuses.

More than just a dad

I’ve been thinking a lot about my dad this week. With Father’s Day coming up it’s hard not to have him cross my mind more than usual. Anyone that ever knew my dad knows that he was a one of a kind. He had the most wonderful personality and could make you just crack up at some of the things that he would come up with. There was never a time that us kids would bring a friend to their house that he didn’t make them feel welcome and immediately a part of the family. Looking back I still laugh when I think of the expressions on some of my friend’s faces when they would meet my dad for the first time and he would greet them with “hello (insert name) – do you live around here or ride a bull?” or “do you walk to school or carry your lunch?” I never knew what he would come up with next and not knowing what to expect from him was part of his charm. Most of my friends, as well as my sibling’s friends, loved to just sit and talk with dad because he was so funny and so friendly.

He had a heart that was more genuine than that of anyone that I know. He would never turn away a friend in need and I very seldom ever saw him lose his temper. He had a way of reasoning with people and just didn’t believe in arguing. I can remember the last few years that he was here with us he loved working in his garden and had one of the prettiest and most abundantly flourishing ones in the community. He loved giving people things out of the garden and in fact planted a second garden just so he would have enough to share the fruits of his labor with his friends or someone in the community. I can still see him there early in the mornings while the dew was still on the ground as I left to take the kids to school. I think that is one of my favorite memories of him.

Dad was one of the hardest working men that I know. He was generous to a fault and was the epitome of what God expects of us as His children. He loved to laugh and to make people smile and everyone who was in his company for any length of time he always managed to get a chuckle from them.

I had (and still have) so much respect for my dad for many reasons. One of those being that he stood strong for what he believed in and he didn’t compromise his beliefs. Whether it be on his stance against something or his determination to stand up for something; he didn’t falter. He believed what he believed and he told me so many times that if you compromise your beliefs then you aren’t passionate enough to stand up for that belief. He carried, read and taught from the King James Version of the Bible; he believed in protecting his family at any measure and he believed in working for every dollar that he earned.

My dad was my hero and I regret so much that I never told him just how much that I respected the man that he was and the morals and values that he spent my whole life teaching me. I took for granted those talks that seemed to last forever on the front porch swing. I never realized then how much he was teaching me until I found myself using his words of wisdom myself on my own children. He was so much more than a dad - he was a friend, a mentor and a role model.

There are so many things that I encounter that make me smile at the reminder of him. The smell of fresh brewed coffee, seeing someone eating corn on the cob with more on their cheeks than in their mouth or hearing a good ole gospel song that he would loved to hear.

I am a very blessed girl that I have such wonderful memories of such an amazing father. There are a lot of people who never experience having the guidance and love that I had growing up and I realize more and more the older I get how much I appreciate the examples that he set for me.

I know that I will never be the person that my dad was, but because God saw fit to bless me with having him as an example, I will always know the kind of person that I am supposed to be.

Happy Father’s Day Dad – I love you to Heaven and back!

From Florence Nightingale to MacGyver

My oldest daughter Jess is a first time mom. I myself have 3 children. One thing that I have noticed with the more children that I had is how differently you begin to do things as a mother. When Jess was a baby I remember those days of panicking at fevers or her falling down. I was a new mom myself and didn’t reach the comfortable stage of being able to take care of her without my mom or my mother-in-law present until she was probably about 3 or 4. It didn’t take me long to realize that my mother knew as much as Jessica’s pediatrician or that Dr. Spock didn’t hold a candle to knowing how to raise a child in comparison to her so if I did have any questions I had her on speed dial.

My daughter is a great mom. She is so loving and caring with Peyton and spends so much time trying to teach her things. But she is like I was all those years ago when it comes to worrying over every little thing. She gets a little aggravated at me from time to time (I can tell) when she feels like I’m not taking things as serious as she does or when I try to tell her how to handle things differently. Jess has always been very independent and doesn’t like to ask for my help most of the time. But when Peyton is sick or something is going on with her she will come to me and ask for some guidance or advice. A lot of times she looks at me like I have two heads when I give her a simple answer or I just don’t take things as serious as she would like to think that I should. Some times I do worry and get concerned, but I always try to maintain calmness about me so she doesn’t “freak out” over the situation – just like my mom did with me.

With each additional life that I brought into this world I became more and more comfortable with raising them and getting them through things like sickness and injuries.

It wasn’t that I didn’t take it seriously; I had just “been there” and I had become more accustomed with each one on how to sustain my composure and evaluate the circumstances.

During my first go around as a mom with every boo-boo, temperature or puking event I would go into Florence Nightingale mode and baby and pet her to insure that it was all better. Then came the second one when I would be a little calmer and less dramatic over anything projectile that came from her body or any bump and bruise that she acquired. Next in line came “the boy” as we have nicknamed him. In all honesty he should have come first because then I could have been prepared for ANYTHING! But I had become seasoned at this point and I could handle all the normal things with the greatest of ease because I was almost at the pro status of motherhood. Granted he did have several “firsts” that took a little bit more thinking and fixing – in fact I could write a book on him alone and his first 3 years and probably end up with a gig on the Letterman show just to share it with people.

I’m fairly certain that many first time moms and Dr. Spock advocates probably cringe at my parenting skills now when I am out with my kids or with my granddaughter and they observe my reactions to some of the things that happen to them. I imagine that the words heartless and cold come to the minds of them when Peyton falls down and starts crying and I (after seeing nothing is broken) simply respond with “it will feel better when it quits hurting.” I can remember when my children were smaller that if one of them came to file a report on a sibling doing something they weren’t supposed to do I would spin around 3 times into my “Wonder Mom” outfit and run at warp speed to safe them from themselves. It didn’t take long though to develop the mentality that formed a method of responding to similar situations with “if there’s not blood gushing or a bone protruding I don’t want to hear any tattling.” When Jess was a baby (and her being the first) I spent more time in the ER than most doctors that were on call. I went for even the slightest injury. Now I could probably be the present day MacGyver with skills that I have acquired on how to assemble a bandage with Bounty paper towels and masking tape or a sling with an old T-shirt – and not have to pay a co-pay which is an added bonus to home medical practices.

 But Jess and all other new moms have to learn like the rest of us have over the years. We prevent what we can, we take care of what we need to and we just sit back and wait for the next thing to happen…because it will. That’s all a part of it.

Not necessarily the presence....just the knowing

My granddaughter Peyton has entered that stage where when she does something, whether it be big or small, she wants to know someone is watching her. My chosen title for her to call me is “GranApple” (a whole different blog material for where that came from). She can’t quite say it all yet so when she wants my attention she yells to the top of her little lungs “Apple!” Once she has succeeded in gaining my undivided attention she then proceeds to show me what it is that she has set out to accomplish. It’s like what she is doing is only important if someone else sees her do it or I think that it perhaps gives her a sense of pride that she is able to achieve it while maintaining an audience.

When my children were smaller and involved it a vast variety of sports ranging from cheerleading to softball. At that age in their lives they had grown out of the stage of pleading for my attention and instead would just dart their eyes back and forth from the field or the court to me. It was an assurance to them that I was watching them and that seemed to give them confidence and occasionally a grin; because Mom was cheering her heart out, and at the same time making a fool of herself, as she was watching them. I remember once I had concession duty and had gotten up with less than a minute left in the game and proceeded to pack up my stuff so I could relieve the last shift. In the process of packing up I let my focus stray from the court and Kailee hit her first 3 pointer from just a few feet from the half-line – AND I MISSED IT! Trust me though that time was nowhere near as bad as the time I missed a great shot because I was texting. After the scolding I got from my child (I would like to mention word for word from the one I had just given her not too long before that about being able to put down the phone when something else is more important); I tried my very best to keep the texting to a minimum and to only do it during time-outs.

A few Sundays ago I had told my youngest daughter that I may not be going to church that morning with them. She instantly spun around with this look that quickly showed her hesitation to go without me. I reassured her that she is now 17, can drive, has been going there long enough to know everyone and knows the way there. She replies yes, but I like it when you are there. I smiled and reminded her that she never even sits with me and she replies “yeah but I know you are there”. It hit me harder as I kept replaying those words in my mind that as a mother I need to be there for my children.  

I have thought about that a lot since Kailee said it to me. It made me realize that in life (not just as a child) that a cheering fan, a voice of reason or a show of support isn’t necessarily what is the most important. While having all those things is reassuring and comforting, all we truly want is just a presence there in our lives; a face to look at in the crowd, a voice that can be heard or a hand to reach out to us. It’s all about just knowing someone is there.