My mother as a grandmother was out of this world awesome. She loved to be with each child, alone and all together. She loved to hug and kiss and just watch each of them to make herself believe that it wasn't a dream. She would play on the floor with them when they were little even though she must have been in pain from the arthritis. She was a hands-on grandmother and was proud of her little ones.
When it came time to choose what I wanted to be called as a grandmother, I couldn't think of anything more fitting than "Grandmama". It turns out that it wasn't allowed because they already had a Grandmama. Oh well, Gramama turned out to be my name instead. I guess they were right - there was only one Grandmama.
NOTE: I will not remind my children that MY grandfather was Papa and when it came time for my father to be a grandfather, he thought it was an honor to be called Papa.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
My Mom
I have good and not so good things to say about Mom when I was growing up. Before I get started I just want to say that each of us makes mistakes and none of us are perfect. I think Mom was a great Mom even though there were some things I would never have done as a parent. It was a different time and we can't judge the way things were done when different ideals were normal.
Mom worked hard her whole life. I know she was a waitress several times, she worked at Erwin Mills, later known as Burlington Industries, for a really long time. She was a ward secretary and a sales clerk. We weren't poor but we didn't really have a lot of extra money. Mom always volunteered to work overtime because that was how she paid for school clothes, Christmas and so forth. She preferred to work third shift. She read - a lot. She loved science fiction as well as science. She was very smart, especially when you realize that she dropped out of school in the eighth grade. She took several classes through the years but the ones I remember the most were the two things that she "wanted to do before" she died. I think she knew that the heart problem wasn't going to be fixed so she took them at the same time. She actually passed everything to become an EMS even though she had no intentions of actually working as one. She also learned American Sign Language.
Mom loved Christmas and worked very hard to make sure we had a nice Christmas. I wasn't always appreciative and could kick myself now. There were two things I would love to take back. One was when I got a Madge doll instead of Barbie. Madge was the best friend of Barbie but Barbie cost more. Of course, I didn't hide my disappointment. Dumb kid. The second was when I was in the 7th grade and EVERYONE had a corduroy jacket so when it was time to choose a project to sew in Home Ec, I chose the jacket. Mom went with me to pick out the fabric, yet she wouldn't let me get the right corduroy. The one we got was smelly and I hated it. It just wasn't like everyone else's. Dumb me showed my displeasure and I know I hurt Mom's feelings. Of course the fabric that I wanted was probably way too expensive and I should have been grateful for what I got. In the year before Mom died, we spent a lot of time talking about my childhood years and we forgave each other for the hurts we inflicted on each other.
One thing discussed was how I had to be "in charge" of my brother without any authority yet with all the responsibility. I was eight when it was determined we wouldn't have a babysitter after school. Mom was at home in case of an emergency even if she was asleep. We had a list of chores we were supposed to do each day. The problem was that Scott learned quickly that if he didn't do his share, I was punished because everything wasn't finished. I couldn't make him do anything and if I "told on him", I was punished for letting him do whatever it was! So, Scott ran wild and I cleaned the house and prepared dinner. This went on our whole childhood. When Scott later told us about all the drugs and stuff he had gotten and at what age, I felt guilty because I had raised him wrong! Even though I got over that stupid thought, I still wonder if things would have been different if Mom and Dad had made him accountable for his actions and gave me the authority to let them know when he was acting up. I learned to keep my mouth shut so I wasn't punished and Scott learned how to get away with almost anything. To me this whole issue was the main thing that Mom and Dad did wrong in raising us. I became too responsible and he became too irresponsible. Who knows?
Mom tried hard to be a good mother. I was raised in a time of "spare the rod and spoil the child" but I can tell you that I was NOT spoiled. Belts and switches were the favorite forms of punishment. When I was a teenager I must have been scary. I remember refusing to cry and if looks could kill, I'd have been an orphan. Can we say stubborn and obstreperous?
My mother also had a bit of paranormal "something". (In case you ever wondered where I got it from - now you know.) She would get funny feelings that would come just before something strange happened. She did research into that kind of stuff and found out she was a good palm reader. She would read palms at parties and it would get kinda scary sometimes. One thing that always worried me - she would read everyone's palms and tell them things - BUT she would never tell me what my palm said to her. She would look often but would never tell me anything. Because of the fact that she was really good at it - yep, I think I might still be worried. The fact that she wasn't overly fond of my first husband but was very happy with my second husband tells me a lot. She saw unhappiness for me with the first and happiness with the second. I still wonder if she knew that I would spend most of my life alone and that's why she wouldn't say anything.
Things that Mom liked: Star Trek and Star Wars, mysteries of any sort, flowers, children, cats and dogs.
One thing I know for sure - my mother loved me. I knew it when I was a child and as I grew older. She was a toucher. Hugs and kisses and snuggles were normal. I also know that she did the best she could. So I'll end now and say one last thing - I love you, Mom.
Mom worked hard her whole life. I know she was a waitress several times, she worked at Erwin Mills, later known as Burlington Industries, for a really long time. She was a ward secretary and a sales clerk. We weren't poor but we didn't really have a lot of extra money. Mom always volunteered to work overtime because that was how she paid for school clothes, Christmas and so forth. She preferred to work third shift. She read - a lot. She loved science fiction as well as science. She was very smart, especially when you realize that she dropped out of school in the eighth grade. She took several classes through the years but the ones I remember the most were the two things that she "wanted to do before" she died. I think she knew that the heart problem wasn't going to be fixed so she took them at the same time. She actually passed everything to become an EMS even though she had no intentions of actually working as one. She also learned American Sign Language.
Mom loved Christmas and worked very hard to make sure we had a nice Christmas. I wasn't always appreciative and could kick myself now. There were two things I would love to take back. One was when I got a Madge doll instead of Barbie. Madge was the best friend of Barbie but Barbie cost more. Of course, I didn't hide my disappointment. Dumb kid. The second was when I was in the 7th grade and EVERYONE had a corduroy jacket so when it was time to choose a project to sew in Home Ec, I chose the jacket. Mom went with me to pick out the fabric, yet she wouldn't let me get the right corduroy. The one we got was smelly and I hated it. It just wasn't like everyone else's. Dumb me showed my displeasure and I know I hurt Mom's feelings. Of course the fabric that I wanted was probably way too expensive and I should have been grateful for what I got. In the year before Mom died, we spent a lot of time talking about my childhood years and we forgave each other for the hurts we inflicted on each other.
One thing discussed was how I had to be "in charge" of my brother without any authority yet with all the responsibility. I was eight when it was determined we wouldn't have a babysitter after school. Mom was at home in case of an emergency even if she was asleep. We had a list of chores we were supposed to do each day. The problem was that Scott learned quickly that if he didn't do his share, I was punished because everything wasn't finished. I couldn't make him do anything and if I "told on him", I was punished for letting him do whatever it was! So, Scott ran wild and I cleaned the house and prepared dinner. This went on our whole childhood. When Scott later told us about all the drugs and stuff he had gotten and at what age, I felt guilty because I had raised him wrong! Even though I got over that stupid thought, I still wonder if things would have been different if Mom and Dad had made him accountable for his actions and gave me the authority to let them know when he was acting up. I learned to keep my mouth shut so I wasn't punished and Scott learned how to get away with almost anything. To me this whole issue was the main thing that Mom and Dad did wrong in raising us. I became too responsible and he became too irresponsible. Who knows?
Mom tried hard to be a good mother. I was raised in a time of "spare the rod and spoil the child" but I can tell you that I was NOT spoiled. Belts and switches were the favorite forms of punishment. When I was a teenager I must have been scary. I remember refusing to cry and if looks could kill, I'd have been an orphan. Can we say stubborn and obstreperous?
My mother also had a bit of paranormal "something". (In case you ever wondered where I got it from - now you know.) She would get funny feelings that would come just before something strange happened. She did research into that kind of stuff and found out she was a good palm reader. She would read palms at parties and it would get kinda scary sometimes. One thing that always worried me - she would read everyone's palms and tell them things - BUT she would never tell me what my palm said to her. She would look often but would never tell me anything. Because of the fact that she was really good at it - yep, I think I might still be worried. The fact that she wasn't overly fond of my first husband but was very happy with my second husband tells me a lot. She saw unhappiness for me with the first and happiness with the second. I still wonder if she knew that I would spend most of my life alone and that's why she wouldn't say anything.
Things that Mom liked: Star Trek and Star Wars, mysteries of any sort, flowers, children, cats and dogs.
One thing I know for sure - my mother loved me. I knew it when I was a child and as I grew older. She was a toucher. Hugs and kisses and snuggles were normal. I also know that she did the best she could. So I'll end now and say one last thing - I love you, Mom.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Papa and Mama Ferguson
To continue the story of my mother and those surrounding her, I'll tell you a little about my grandfather, Morris. I was 14 or 15 when he died. (April Fool's Day - I came home from school to have my dad greet me in the yard. He was supposed to be at work and I tried really hard to make him tell me he was doing a sick April Fool's Day joke. I went to my favorite place in the woods behind our house and climbed my favorite tree and cried my heart out. The area was covered in wisteria and to this day I can remember the calm that came over me as I cried and prayed. It was probably the only time before I joined the church that I was sure of God's existence. I didn't really know about the Holy Ghost but I sure recognized the feeling of comfort and love that I was enveloped inside.) He had been really sick with cancer and I had been able to be with him a lot that last 9 months or so because he was in the hospital on the ward that my mother worked as a ward secretary. I had been a candy striper during the summer and they assigned me to Ward J whenever possible. Being with him when my grandmother wasn't around showed an entirely different person to me.
He had had stomach problems and had had surgery that removed about 3/4 of his stomach. He worked in the cotton mill all day and would come home and would sit in his favorite chair in front of the TV and drink a beer. About half a beer and he would be drunk. He was a gentle and sweet drunk, not scary at all. I'm not making excuses for him but if I had had to listen to Elsie tell me all the things I did wrong and how pitiful I was - well, that beer doesn't sound too bad, does it? It doesn't excuse him from being responsible for the things that went on in his house. He should have stood up to Elsie and took control. He just wasn't strong enough and would rather escape in oblivion so he could live down to her expectations. When I was young, I never liked to greet Papa because he smelled funny and always had stubble on his face and it hurt to hug him.
One memory that I will always have that showed their strange marriage is of when I broke my elbow. I was 13 and the night before we left for vacation at the beach I miscalculated while on the playground near our house and landed hard. A friend that lived next to the park drove me home very slowly while, Scott ran home to tell Mom and Dad. (He was pale as a ghost. That was also one of the things that stand out because I had never seen anyone do that before.) I had just eaten dinner so the surgery to put my elbow back together would be the next morning. That Fourth of July in the hospital was NOT the way to spend a vacation.
The day after surgery I had spoken to my parents on the phone and found out my grandparents were at the house. The hospital is only a few blocks away so when Papa said that he would come visit me, I was beyond excited. I had already developed a relationship with him and he was going to get to be the one visiting me instead of the other way around. So of course Mama Ferguson said they would not go, she wanted to go home and didn't want to take the time to go to the hospital. I heard the discussion so I know what was said. Anyway, for once he stood up to her, kinda. They came to the hospital on their way home and waved at me from under my window. He blew me a kiss and she glared. Just the fact that we called him Papa and she was Mama Ferguson speaks volumes, doesn't it?
I might as well tell you the story of how she became Mama Ferguson. Elsie wanted to be called Mama. (I remember telling Dad that she couldn't be Mama because we already had a Mama.) That's what everyone called my Dad's mother and there was no way Elsie could have that honor. So we batted around a few names while at her house one day. Boy, do I remember the reaction she had when we suggested Mammy! She was determined to reject every name because she was a controlling witch. She would only settle for Mama. So when Mom said, "Well, I guess they can either not call you anything or they can call you Mama Ferguson.", we latched onto it. She did not like it and would cringe whenever we used it - for years! I was intimidated by her and was content to not call her anything, (which she didn't like either.) Later as I got older and a little bolder, Mom and Dad were discussing how Elsie didn't like to be called Mama Ferguson. Dad admitted that he enjoyed the fact she didn't like it. A light bulb went off in my brain and I realized it was a simple way to get back at her for all the mean things she did to Mom. She eventually got used to it. The down side was that whenever we had to differentiate between my grandmothers we had to call Dad's mother Mama Ferrell. Mama - the real one - didn't care. She was smart enough to know that she was our real grandmother and that we had to add the last names because the other grandmother was petty and controlling.
In reading this you may think that I hated Mama Ferguson. Not so. Most of my childhood I was afraid of her. When we lived on Ashe Street, Scott and I were sure that the woman that lived upstairs was a real witch. I'm not sure when it happened but somewhere along the way we kinda decided that Mama Ferguson was a witch too. When I got older I recognized her as a woman that I was not fond of but had to be with because it mattered to Mom. It was only after I joined the church and found that I needed to forgive her for being the way she was that I really came to terms with her. As an adult, I realized that I should feel sorry for her. Look at all that she missed by hurting all those around her. She had "favorites" throughout her life and did little things that hurt Mom, over and over. Mom wanted to have her mother love her and even though Elsie changed after Papa died and she spent more time with Mom and Dad - I'm not sure Elsie was capable of loving. She did redeem herself in my eyes when she started visiting Mom more and started going fishing at the coast with Mom and Dad. She was never a loving mother to Mom but she did make Mom feel better.
He had had stomach problems and had had surgery that removed about 3/4 of his stomach. He worked in the cotton mill all day and would come home and would sit in his favorite chair in front of the TV and drink a beer. About half a beer and he would be drunk. He was a gentle and sweet drunk, not scary at all. I'm not making excuses for him but if I had had to listen to Elsie tell me all the things I did wrong and how pitiful I was - well, that beer doesn't sound too bad, does it? It doesn't excuse him from being responsible for the things that went on in his house. He should have stood up to Elsie and took control. He just wasn't strong enough and would rather escape in oblivion so he could live down to her expectations. When I was young, I never liked to greet Papa because he smelled funny and always had stubble on his face and it hurt to hug him.
One memory that I will always have that showed their strange marriage is of when I broke my elbow. I was 13 and the night before we left for vacation at the beach I miscalculated while on the playground near our house and landed hard. A friend that lived next to the park drove me home very slowly while, Scott ran home to tell Mom and Dad. (He was pale as a ghost. That was also one of the things that stand out because I had never seen anyone do that before.) I had just eaten dinner so the surgery to put my elbow back together would be the next morning. That Fourth of July in the hospital was NOT the way to spend a vacation.
The day after surgery I had spoken to my parents on the phone and found out my grandparents were at the house. The hospital is only a few blocks away so when Papa said that he would come visit me, I was beyond excited. I had already developed a relationship with him and he was going to get to be the one visiting me instead of the other way around. So of course Mama Ferguson said they would not go, she wanted to go home and didn't want to take the time to go to the hospital. I heard the discussion so I know what was said. Anyway, for once he stood up to her, kinda. They came to the hospital on their way home and waved at me from under my window. He blew me a kiss and she glared. Just the fact that we called him Papa and she was Mama Ferguson speaks volumes, doesn't it?
I might as well tell you the story of how she became Mama Ferguson. Elsie wanted to be called Mama. (I remember telling Dad that she couldn't be Mama because we already had a Mama.) That's what everyone called my Dad's mother and there was no way Elsie could have that honor. So we batted around a few names while at her house one day. Boy, do I remember the reaction she had when we suggested Mammy! She was determined to reject every name because she was a controlling witch. She would only settle for Mama. So when Mom said, "Well, I guess they can either not call you anything or they can call you Mama Ferguson.", we latched onto it. She did not like it and would cringe whenever we used it - for years! I was intimidated by her and was content to not call her anything, (which she didn't like either.) Later as I got older and a little bolder, Mom and Dad were discussing how Elsie didn't like to be called Mama Ferguson. Dad admitted that he enjoyed the fact she didn't like it. A light bulb went off in my brain and I realized it was a simple way to get back at her for all the mean things she did to Mom. She eventually got used to it. The down side was that whenever we had to differentiate between my grandmothers we had to call Dad's mother Mama Ferrell. Mama - the real one - didn't care. She was smart enough to know that she was our real grandmother and that we had to add the last names because the other grandmother was petty and controlling.
In reading this you may think that I hated Mama Ferguson. Not so. Most of my childhood I was afraid of her. When we lived on Ashe Street, Scott and I were sure that the woman that lived upstairs was a real witch. I'm not sure when it happened but somewhere along the way we kinda decided that Mama Ferguson was a witch too. When I got older I recognized her as a woman that I was not fond of but had to be with because it mattered to Mom. It was only after I joined the church and found that I needed to forgive her for being the way she was that I really came to terms with her. As an adult, I realized that I should feel sorry for her. Look at all that she missed by hurting all those around her. She had "favorites" throughout her life and did little things that hurt Mom, over and over. Mom wanted to have her mother love her and even though Elsie changed after Papa died and she spent more time with Mom and Dad - I'm not sure Elsie was capable of loving. She did redeem herself in my eyes when she started visiting Mom more and started going fishing at the coast with Mom and Dad. She was never a loving mother to Mom but she did make Mom feel better.
Skeleton and Warts
I chose to post this on June the 28th because it is in between the two days that I could have posted it on. My mother, Margaret Marie Ferguson, was born on June 29, 1938 and died on June 27, 1990. She was born to Elsie Mae Norton (Nordan) and Morris Singleton (Singletary) Ferguson.
My grandparents were the bane of all genealogist, they changed their own information without the benefit of legalities. Elsie maintained that she was born October 29, 1910 when she was listed in the 1910 Census (taken April 1910) as a 6 month old child. Not hard to figure out that she was born in 1909. She and one of her brothers decided they didn't like the spelling of their last name so they changed it from Nordan to Norton. My grandfather couldn't decide what his middle name was so he varied between the two. While my grandfather was dead when I was trying to do my genealogy, my grandmother was alive for about 25 years after I started. No excuses, hunh? So, lesson 1, 2 and 3 - document, document, document. A person's recollections can be tainted with a bad memory, a desire to be younger than her husband, or having stories handed down which lose their truth as time goes on. (I suspect that the age confusion began when my grandmother realized that since her husband-to-be was born on October 10, 1910 she was almost a year older than him. Hey, it matters to some people.)
Both of my grandparents were from Johnston County, North Carolina. The Ferguson line came to America from Scotland by way of a colony in Virginia and down to North Carolina. I have a written story about how the Ferguson line came through a family with two sons and a daughter and were in a colony that was attacked by Indians while the two sons were out hunting with a group. Supposedly the entire colony was wiped out except those that were out hunting. I tell you this story because it is what has been handed down on the Ferguson side. Remember what I said about stories being handed down? This is also the side that is supposed to have an Indian in the lineage because of the foreheads and cheek bones found on the Ferguson side. I've done a lot of searching and have not found any evidence for either story but at least the story about the colony in Virginia is written down and I can find the people, just not the story.
The Nordan side is one that I traced to England. (I think. I'm doing this from memory and remember what I said about memories??) Most of the people I found on this side were farmers and stayed in the same general area. I was fortunate to know my great-grandmother on this side. Elsie's mother was Polly Ann Norris and though her birth date was never confirmed, I do have the date she thought it was. She was nearly a hundred when she passed away. I think Jennifer was a baby when Polly died. Both Polly and Elsie were excellent quilters and I was really pleased when I learned how to quilt and could have something else in common with them. I kept in touch with my grandmother more to honor my mother because I knew too many things about her to really like her. Horrible to admit I guess, but it's the truth. Polly on the other hand was a delightful woman and I am glad I got to know her.
Margaret was born fifth of seven children. Her only brother was 13 months younger and they were the closest. When she was 13 she had a really bad year. She had Rheumatic Fever that resulted in a heart murmur and damage that lead to the valve replacement surgery that she died from years later. She also had Bright's Disease. She was sent home to die and was really sick for a while but she got well in spite of their sage advice. After she recovered she went back to school but was a year behind all her friends and never fit back in. Then she fell in love with a boy, found herself pregnant and sent off to an unwed mothers home. The baby died about a month before the due date but the doctors had her wait until she went into labor so she had a period of time ofcarrying around this baby that she knew was already dead. I have no idea why, I only tell you what Mom told me. The baby was a boy. Needless to say, going back to school was no longer an option so she dropped out and went to work.
I'm not going to reveal ALL of the warts on the skeletons in our closet but I will say that my mother did not have good memories of her mother. It disgusted the know-it-all teenager in me to see her trying to win her mother's love and that of her sisters who didn't care about her either. I know times were different and child rearing has changed over the years but one thing even I could see as a child growing up, Mom was the black sheep of the family. Some of her older sisters did things that were horrific and some were even illegal. Yet they were the "good" girls while Mom was the "bad" girl. Basically, Mom got caught and that was her biggest sin. I continued to visit my grandmother until she died yet I do not feel the least bit guilty that I no longer have contact with Mom's sisters. I have cousins that I would love to see and have a relationship with but not enough to go back to the way things were.
My Dad dated one of Mom's sisters and met her that way. He didn't like the way she was treated by her sisters or her mother and knew that Morris was too afraid of Elsie to stand up for Mom. After a few months of seeing Mom, they decided to marry. It all came to a head when he went to the house to pick up Mom for a date and he caught Elsie beating Mom with the cord from an iron. He stopped it and promised that she was never going to lay a hand on Mom again without consequences. If you knew my Dad you also know he didn't say it that nicely either. Personally, if my 16 - 17 year old daughter was dating a man eight years older than her, a man who had just come back from Korea where he served in the Navy???? That is actually one of the things that my Dad listed as why Elsie was a terrible mother.
My grandparents were the bane of all genealogist, they changed their own information without the benefit of legalities. Elsie maintained that she was born October 29, 1910 when she was listed in the 1910 Census (taken April 1910) as a 6 month old child. Not hard to figure out that she was born in 1909. She and one of her brothers decided they didn't like the spelling of their last name so they changed it from Nordan to Norton. My grandfather couldn't decide what his middle name was so he varied between the two. While my grandfather was dead when I was trying to do my genealogy, my grandmother was alive for about 25 years after I started. No excuses, hunh? So, lesson 1, 2 and 3 - document, document, document. A person's recollections can be tainted with a bad memory, a desire to be younger than her husband, or having stories handed down which lose their truth as time goes on. (I suspect that the age confusion began when my grandmother realized that since her husband-to-be was born on October 10, 1910 she was almost a year older than him. Hey, it matters to some people.)
Both of my grandparents were from Johnston County, North Carolina. The Ferguson line came to America from Scotland by way of a colony in Virginia and down to North Carolina. I have a written story about how the Ferguson line came through a family with two sons and a daughter and were in a colony that was attacked by Indians while the two sons were out hunting with a group. Supposedly the entire colony was wiped out except those that were out hunting. I tell you this story because it is what has been handed down on the Ferguson side. Remember what I said about stories being handed down? This is also the side that is supposed to have an Indian in the lineage because of the foreheads and cheek bones found on the Ferguson side. I've done a lot of searching and have not found any evidence for either story but at least the story about the colony in Virginia is written down and I can find the people, just not the story.
The Nordan side is one that I traced to England. (I think. I'm doing this from memory and remember what I said about memories??) Most of the people I found on this side were farmers and stayed in the same general area. I was fortunate to know my great-grandmother on this side. Elsie's mother was Polly Ann Norris and though her birth date was never confirmed, I do have the date she thought it was. She was nearly a hundred when she passed away. I think Jennifer was a baby when Polly died. Both Polly and Elsie were excellent quilters and I was really pleased when I learned how to quilt and could have something else in common with them. I kept in touch with my grandmother more to honor my mother because I knew too many things about her to really like her. Horrible to admit I guess, but it's the truth. Polly on the other hand was a delightful woman and I am glad I got to know her.
Margaret was born fifth of seven children. Her only brother was 13 months younger and they were the closest. When she was 13 she had a really bad year. She had Rheumatic Fever that resulted in a heart murmur and damage that lead to the valve replacement surgery that she died from years later. She also had Bright's Disease. She was sent home to die and was really sick for a while but she got well in spite of their sage advice. After she recovered she went back to school but was a year behind all her friends and never fit back in. Then she fell in love with a boy, found herself pregnant and sent off to an unwed mothers home. The baby died about a month before the due date but the doctors had her wait until she went into labor so she had a period of time ofcarrying around this baby that she knew was already dead. I have no idea why, I only tell you what Mom told me. The baby was a boy. Needless to say, going back to school was no longer an option so she dropped out and went to work.
I'm not going to reveal ALL of the warts on the skeletons in our closet but I will say that my mother did not have good memories of her mother. It disgusted the know-it-all teenager in me to see her trying to win her mother's love and that of her sisters who didn't care about her either. I know times were different and child rearing has changed over the years but one thing even I could see as a child growing up, Mom was the black sheep of the family. Some of her older sisters did things that were horrific and some were even illegal. Yet they were the "good" girls while Mom was the "bad" girl. Basically, Mom got caught and that was her biggest sin. I continued to visit my grandmother until she died yet I do not feel the least bit guilty that I no longer have contact with Mom's sisters. I have cousins that I would love to see and have a relationship with but not enough to go back to the way things were.
My Dad dated one of Mom's sisters and met her that way. He didn't like the way she was treated by her sisters or her mother and knew that Morris was too afraid of Elsie to stand up for Mom. After a few months of seeing Mom, they decided to marry. It all came to a head when he went to the house to pick up Mom for a date and he caught Elsie beating Mom with the cord from an iron. He stopped it and promised that she was never going to lay a hand on Mom again without consequences. If you knew my Dad you also know he didn't say it that nicely either. Personally, if my 16 - 17 year old daughter was dating a man eight years older than her, a man who had just come back from Korea where he served in the Navy???? That is actually one of the things that my Dad listed as why Elsie was a terrible mother.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Attitude
Have you ever wondered if our attitude has any bearing on how our life is lead? Do you ever wonder if that person you know that "everything" that happens "to" him is negative may just need a little attitude adjustment? Don't get me wrong, I know awful things happen to people and they have no control over it. But sometimes, just sometimes, do you think "if they would just look at how lucky they are" instead of "woe is me?"
I know I'm guilty of negative thinking and sometimes it leads to more negative thoughts. I hope that I get better at being positive.
Sometimes the decisions that we make lead to the "bad" things that happen and we just have to accept that this is the way it is and make the best of it. Wallowing in the "woe is me" certainly isn't going to help matters. Looking for the positive and either accepting the consequences or doing something towards making it better is a more pro-active way of life.
OK, my little thought of the day is over. You may go back to your regularly scheduled program.
I know I'm guilty of negative thinking and sometimes it leads to more negative thoughts. I hope that I get better at being positive.
Sometimes the decisions that we make lead to the "bad" things that happen and we just have to accept that this is the way it is and make the best of it. Wallowing in the "woe is me" certainly isn't going to help matters. Looking for the positive and either accepting the consequences or doing something towards making it better is a more pro-active way of life.
OK, my little thought of the day is over. You may go back to your regularly scheduled program.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Bucket List
OK, I watched the movie last night and now I'm wondering what would be on my bucket list. (Things I would want to do before I kicked the bucket.) There would be more travel. To places I've never seen - too many to list. I've been working on a list like that for a while now. I want to visit as many LDS temples as possible as well as all the states in the US. Thanks to wandering children, I'm doing pretty good on both of those lists.
I guess I'm pretty boring because my list would also have:
- visit my grandchildren every month.
- get my house in complete order. (HA!)
- scrapbook all my pictures.
There are a few that are too personal to put on a blog but overall my list would be pretty short in the "most important" things because I feel like I've done a good job with my life. I've loved and been loved. My children are all married to wonderful people and my grandchildren are - well, they just are!
So - let's see if anyone reads this blog. Name at least one thing that would be on YOUR bucket list. Either comment here or send me an email. I really want to know.
I guess I'm pretty boring because my list would also have:
- visit my grandchildren every month.
- get my house in complete order. (HA!)
- scrapbook all my pictures.
There are a few that are too personal to put on a blog but overall my list would be pretty short in the "most important" things because I feel like I've done a good job with my life. I've loved and been loved. My children are all married to wonderful people and my grandchildren are - well, they just are!
So - let's see if anyone reads this blog. Name at least one thing that would be on YOUR bucket list. Either comment here or send me an email. I really want to know.
Friday, June 6, 2008
Can You Explain This?
Today I was driving on a two lane road that curved so often that most of the 10 mile stretch that I drive on is "No Passing". I could see that the folks ahead of me (3 cars ahead) were swerving into the other lane. So I slow down. I know, what a novel idea that is - to slow down when you see folks in front of you having problems. Go figure. The line of cars behind me are in my back seat and not being polite about it either. So - I get to the problem area and it is a medium sized cedar tree limb, maybe three feet long and the circumference is two inches max. I do what I think is the right thing and pull off the road, walk back and get the dumb limb and pull it off the road. Takes less than a minute and we are no longer trying to have a wreck on the busy road.
Now here is my question. WHY WAS I THE FIRST ONE TO GET THIS IDEA??? There I am in a dress, hose and heels and can get out and move the limb but everyone else is too - too what? Busy? In a hurry? Indifferent to the danger to other motorists? WHAT??!!
When I asked this question to others, it turns out that I did something extraordinary. Turns out that I am the crazy person for caring. Is our society that far gone?
PS: Just so you know how insane I am - I've done this before. Better lock me up now before I save someone's life.
Now here is my question. WHY WAS I THE FIRST ONE TO GET THIS IDEA??? There I am in a dress, hose and heels and can get out and move the limb but everyone else is too - too what? Busy? In a hurry? Indifferent to the danger to other motorists? WHAT??!!
When I asked this question to others, it turns out that I did something extraordinary. Turns out that I am the crazy person for caring. Is our society that far gone?
PS: Just so you know how insane I am - I've done this before. Better lock me up now before I save someone's life.
Monday, June 2, 2008
Pictures and My Week
Well, It took me a week but I finally posted a lot of pictures on the Ferrell Family Blog. Take a look when you have the chance.
This past week has been horrible. Pain, exhaustion and just when I thought I'd got enough rest - more exhaustion. For a problem that has an actual name and has been proven to be real and not "all in my head", it's still hard to convince myself that I'm not just a lazy bum. However, this week sold me. I couldn't have run for my life if someone had a gun to my head and said RUN! I could barely get out of bed to go to the bathroom much less eat or take the dog for her walks. Maybe that's the other thing that convinces me I've been sick. Willow hasn't driven me insane to go for walks. She has stayed right with me and has been mostly a good dog. Notice I said mostly. She has entertained herself with trash from the garbage can. SIGH! Billy Goat Dog, that's what she is.
This past week has been horrible. Pain, exhaustion and just when I thought I'd got enough rest - more exhaustion. For a problem that has an actual name and has been proven to be real and not "all in my head", it's still hard to convince myself that I'm not just a lazy bum. However, this week sold me. I couldn't have run for my life if someone had a gun to my head and said RUN! I could barely get out of bed to go to the bathroom much less eat or take the dog for her walks. Maybe that's the other thing that convinces me I've been sick. Willow hasn't driven me insane to go for walks. She has stayed right with me and has been mostly a good dog. Notice I said mostly. She has entertained herself with trash from the garbage can. SIGH! Billy Goat Dog, that's what she is.
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