Those You Touch...You Change...and They Change You

The photos here were taken during a friend's recent trip to Haiti.  It is interesting that all the people who went to Haiti to give aid to a suffering country came back feeling that they had been given something that wasn't material and can't be taken away.

                                   

The following essay is by Steve Goodier.

 Did you know that your money likely has traces of cocaine on it?

A study by Jack Demirgian of the Argonne National Laboratory

revealed that a full 78% of the currency circulating in Miami and

other major US cities carries trace amounts of cocaine. That's

probably true elsewhere, too.

They were only looking for cocaine, but I wonder what else might be

found on the bills? Maybe fast-food products, such as frying grease,

mustard or teriyaki sauce? Tea or coffee? And how about rouge or

lipstick from purses and lint from pockets? Perhaps ink from a leaky

pen? I've found more indistinguishable stains on some of my money

than I care to think about.

What's more, we're told that if they look closely enough, they can

even learn something about where your money has been. To the store.

To the beach. Even hidden beneath a mattress.

Just about anything that comes into contact with money leaves a bit

of itself behind. Then, when the bills rub up against each other in

a wallet or billfold, they share contaminates. Everything the bills

touch will be changed, however slightly

So it is with us. Everything we touch is changed. I used to play

English hand bells. "Don't touch the bells with your bare hands," we

were told. "Wear gloves." The oils from our hands changed the

quality of the bells.

Everything we touch is changed. And everybody we touch is changed --

even if we're not infected with something contagious. I'm not only

talking about physical touch, either. Often we touch their minds and

spirits and hearts. Everybody we speak to, rub shoulders with or

even smile at...is changed in some minute way. These changes can be

helpful or hurtful, depending on our interaction. It is like leaving

a piece of ourselves behind with everyone we meet, and taking a

piece of them with us.

And even little changes can make a difference. NO ONE is

insignificant in this regard.

Bette Reeves said, "If you think you are too small to be effective,

you have never been in bed with a mosquito." You don't need to be a

mosquito to have an effect on people around you. The question is:

what little part of yourself will you leave behind? How will you

influence them? Will your encounter be thoughtful or hurried?

Helpful or harmful? Intentional or accidental?

There is something awe-inspiring about the influence we have on one

another. Whom will you touch today? What will you leave behind, and

what will you take with you?

Awesome questions.

Carmi's theme--Edible!

Meanwhile, back in Savannah at the end of our day of sightseeing, we had reservations for dinner at "Lady and Sons," Paula Deen's restaurant.  Someone said to me that they were surprised that it wasn't fancier, but since it is in the historic district, it must be compatible with its surroundings.

We were escorted downstairs where we had our own room.  When we were seated, we were served a biscuit and a hoecake.  When our turn came to go to the buffet, we certainly had plenty of choices for our dinner.

There were three meats on the buffet - fried chicken, barbecued ribs, and pork.  The hot sides were rice, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, collard greens, cooked cabbage, black-eyed peas, corn, and macaroni and cheese.  I'm sure I've probably left something out.  Alongside the main buffet was a salad bar. 

After our dinner, we were offered a choice of peach cobbler, banana pudding, or some of Paula's gooey butter cake.  I chose the banana pudding.  One of the ladies on our tour said that her son had gone there and when he read the menu outside, he chose not to go because he didn't like any of that southern cooking.

A friend of mine who visited Savannah not too long ago said to me, "Beverly, it was no better than anything we cook at home."  That's what it was, plain Southern cooking, and it tasted mighty fine to me.

When you're finished eating dinner here, you need to take a walk or something, you will surely be full.  It certainly isn't hard to eat too much.

For more of the "edible" theme, visit Carmi's place.  There will be links to other "edible" posts in the comment section.

This is the way we iron our clothes

 Do you have any of these around your house?  I took a pair of pants into a dry cleaner's store in Waynesboro the other day and saw these irons on display.  I began chatting with the lady who was working there.  She mentioned that the owner of the business had a lot more on display at his store in Charlottesville.

She said that she had grown up just outside Charlottesville, and they had no modern conveniences at their house until she was 13 and they moved into town.  I told her I hated going to my grandparents' house because they had none either.  The main one that I didn't like was having to go down the path to go to the bathroom.

We had a couple of them at our house, but they were used mainly for door stops. I believe I remember hearing my mother say that they became a bit rare because the government gathered iron during the war for manufacturing.

They are neat to look at, but I wouldn't want to have to use one like any of these.  I'd get tired just picking one up!  I would think it might be hard to keep the clothes clean too.

I brought an iron home from Haiti when I came home...not to use, but for decoration.  It is similar to the one above, but with a bright red handle.  It opens so that you can put the hot charcoal inside.

Now with fabrics that are almost wrinkle-free and dryers with settings that let us get clothes out with hardly a wrinkle, irons are not used nearly as much as they used to be.  I taught with a lady whose daughter was married to a man who insisted that his shirts be starched and ironed.  She said that her daughter washed the shirts, took them out of the dryer right away, hung them in the closet, and sprayed starch in the closet.  He was none the wiser.  The joke was on him.

As I looked at all the irons, I wondered to myself, "Where does the expression 'too many irons in the fire' come from?"  One would need an iron to be heating while using one.  Does anyone know? 

A Very Merry Unbirthday

Today is my last day in Virginia until August.  Some time last year before Ella's third birthday, she and her mother were in a restaurant where someone was celebrating a birthday.  She wanted to have one too, so they stopped at the dollar store, bought some birthday hats and balloons, and then proceded to the store for a cake and candles.

When her birthday actually arrived, she was ready.  Tonight after dinner, we had another unbirthday party.  What fun it was  to watch her.  She was a little concerned that there were no hats, but as you can see, she handled it quite well.

I asked her mom if there had been other unbirthday parties during the year.  "Oh, yes," was the reply.

When you are three, who is counting?

Savannah Houses

Tree-lined streets...so beautiful.  Some of the houses here are in the historic section, others on the outskirts.  To me, all are beautiful.

 We saw many of these houses from the bus.  The tour guide described them to us, but I was so busy snapping photos that I didn't get all the details.  I must purchase a book about Savannah's houses.  The next time I will go, it will not be on a bus.

This particular house is in the historic district....as well as the one below.

 This is the garden outside Juliette Gordon Low's house.  This one house we did visit, but we weren't allowed to take photos inside.  She, as you probably know, founded the Girl Scouts of America.  Quite the artist, her home contains oil paintings and sculptures that she did.  When she married Mr. Low, they moved to England where she met Lord Baden Powell, who was founder of the Boy Scouts.  She, in turn, founded Girl Guides, which later became known as Girl Scouts.  Mr. Powell didn't think that girls should or could do what the boys did, but Juliette proved him wrong and changed the name to Girl Scouts.

Our guide said that this house is called the true gingerbread house in Savannah.  It reminds me of some of the old homes in Haiti.

A Day in Savannah

I have often driven I-95 on my to David's and have passed by the exits for Savannah, and I always said to myself that I must go there some day.  The last week of April, I went with a group of seniors (as in old people) to Savannah.  Our bus dropped us off on River Street for "shopping and lunch."  I connected with one of the ladies on the bus who was no more interested in shopping than I was, and so we asked the best way to see the most in the time that we had.

He suggested that we go up the elevator to Bull Street and head west.  That led us down several squares that are lined with the most magnificent live oaks that I believe I've ever seen.  Almost as abundant as live oaks were church steeples.  As we walked down the squares we stopped to read the many monuments to people who were important in the founding of Georgia from Oglethorpe to the soldiers who helped fight for independence.

As we walked along, we were serenaded by street musicians, one a violinist and this gentleman who was playing gospel songs on his flute.  What a lovely stop along the way.  I decided that if I ever move to Savannah, I will be a bench sitter, especially in the spring time. 

This would be a lovely way to see the historic part of the city.  We saw several horse-drawn buggies and lots of open-air trams filled with sight-seers.  We enjoyed walking so that we could stop at will and snap photos or take the time to read the historic markers.

Our day ended at "The Lady and Sons," Paula Deen's restaurant.  Our tour guide had made these reservations for us, and we were given a room downstairs.  The gentleman who greeted us didn't tell us who he was, but we later found out he is Bobby's son, Paula's grandson.  We were served some good Southern cooking.  If you went away hungry, it was no one's fault but your own.

I'll post some more photos tomorrow of some of the houses in Savannah and more of Paula's.

May 15, 1947-April 30, 2002

Missing you.

Psalm 1

Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly,

nor standeth in the way of sinners,

nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful.

But his delight is in the law of the lord,

and in his law doth he meditate day and night.

And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water,

that bringeth forth his fruit in his seaosn'

his leaf also shall not wither;

 and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper.

Hats For Sale

I had a wonderful weekend at a retreat with my Sweet Adelines chorus. We met together at a local hotel on Friday afternoon for fun, rest, lots of conversation, lots of singing, and a potluck dinner before meeting with a wonderful lady from Michigan who directed a chorus for many years, sang in a prize-winning quartet, and does lots of teaching around the States.

Before I left to go to the hotel, in the mail I received a couple of CD's with photos from Haiti. One of my friends, who was also one of the missionary kids I taught while I was there, went with her dad for two weeks to help in the clinics that were being held in Haiti. She stopped by one day to visit and I looked at some of the photos, and I asked her if she would send me a copy of them.

After I came home this afternoon, I loaded some of them on my computer. I could not help smiling when I saw this particular picture. It reminded me of the children's book, Caps for Sale.

A cap salesman is walking along trying to sell his caps and if my memory serves me correctly, he takes a nap under a tree. Some monkeys come along and take his caps and climb a tree with them. When the man awakes, he looks for his caps everywhere and then looks up and sees his hats.

He stamps his foot and says, "You monkeys you, you give me back my caps." They mimic everything he does. Finally, exasperated, he takes his cap off, throws it to the ground, and, in unison, the monkeys take off the caps and throw them down from the tree. The man has his caps back. I guess that's a case of monkey see, monkey do.

A year after Don and I were married we took a trip to Haiti. I wanted him to see where I had worked and meet my friends there. We were walking down a street in Port-au-Prince, and he was looking for a hat to buy. The hats he tried on were all too small. (He had a rather large head.) All a sudden, a hat seller came running up to him.

"Pastor, Pastor, try this one." (Don wasn't a pastor, but we must have been with a missionary that the man recognized. I don't know.) Don tried on the hat, and, lo and behold, it fit. The missionary with us said later that he must have had that hat for a long time, just waiting for someone with a head Don's size to come along. That hat served him well for a good, long time here in the hot sun in Florida.

Things That Go Bump in the Night

Well, I am back in business...I think. The computer is fine. I haven't even begun to move files and photos yet. That will come. As some of you know, I came down with shingles at the beginning of February, and even though I saw a doctor right away and got medication to lessen the severity, I still am having a bit of pain around my midsection. When my doctor gave me a prescription for a month's supply of pain medicine and made it refillable 6 times, I figured I was in it for the duration.

While the pain is lessening, it is still annoying, and the medication really doesn't help a lot, even though it is for nerve pain. I haven't been a very good sleeper for the last little while, and it is even more so now. Last night as I lay in bed, trying to relax and go to sleep, nothing seemed to work. I had lots of things go through my mind, and as they passed through, I thought to myself, "Now that would make a good blog post." However, I did not get up and write them all down, but one did remain.

Those of you who have been around for a while know that I was widowed 8 years ago on April 30, and I have lived alone since that time until October when Sarah sold her house and moved back in with me. During these eight years, I've never been afraid of being along. I have a secure home with an alarm system and I have not had cause for concern.

Just the other day, SRP of Melange wrote a post that had a photo of a frog in it, and in my comment I described an occurrence at my house and later thought to myself that I should blog about that. As I said, I feel secure in my home and have not been afraid.

However...one night I turned out the light and settled down for a good night's rest, when, all of a sudden, I heard something fall to the floor in my bedroom. I was a tad alarmed, but I decided not to get up. In a moment or two, I heard another soft thud on the floor, and I decided it was time to get up and attend to the matter at hand.

I walked into the bathroom and turned on the light, and on the far wall of my bedroom I saw a blob on the wall. After I put on my glasses, I could see that it was a tree frog, fastened to the wall by those sticky pads on his feet. He had jumped up onto the windowsill, and in doing so, had knocked off some wooden figures that I had set there.

Now, I like frogs and am not afraid of them, but I didn't want him jumping down on me, plop, in the middle of the night. So, downstairs I came, got a box, got the frog in the box, and took him outside on the front porch and released him to the wild outdoors of Florida.

I'm not sure if I went to sleep right away. I do know that I would have thought nothing of it compared to the morning I went downstairs and saw a long black snake lying across the French doors that go out to the pool.

Such is life in Florida. You didn't really want to come, now did you.

I'm Back in Action

My new computer arrived today.  But now I have to transfer files, photos, and all that stuff.  I want to wish my son, David, a happy birthday today...tax day.  Isn't that some day to have for a birthday!  Happy birthday, David.

Computer Woes

I hope absence makes the heart grow fonder.  I have a computer that will soon be used as an anchor.  I'm waiting for my new one, and hopefully, it will soon be here.

A link for Ginny

Ginny said in her comment that she was not aware of a Ringling Museum. I am including a link here to the museum. There are lovely photos on the home page of the different buildings on the grounds.

I visited the Ringling Museum today with the purpose of visiting the Norman Rockwell exhibit that is on loan there. I thoroughly enjoyed seeing original works of his, along with photography by Kevin Rivoli, who work paralleled the subject matter of Rockwell's paintings.

After leaving the exhibit, I enjoyed walking around the courtyard of the museum, and then I ended up in Mable Ringling's rose garden. The roses are in full bloom, and many are nearly finished, but I so enjoyed them. I've presented some of them here for you to enjoy too. Over at Carmi's place, you will find his photographic theme for this week...color.

My Friend Erma

Erma, Mom, Granny, GG, my friend Erma was all these things to many people. She died this week, the fourth of my close friends, whose lives have impacted mine since the first of February. I would love to write about them all, and I might sometime, but for today, I'll concentrate on my friend, Erma.

When my parents moved to Bradenton in 1945, they opened a restaurant in downtown. A young man just returned from the war, came into the restaurant to eat. He was a regular. Everyone called him "Buck." After a year or so, my parents sold the restaurant and went to work for other people. Mother worked in a drug store, and a couple of young ladies who worked in an appliance store would come in for lunch and Mother got to know them. One of them was Erma, who had married Buck.

They settled down and had two children, Sharon and Glen. After some time, Erma and the children began attending the church that I went to. Erma jumped right in and became very active, teaching Sunday School, working in DVBS, and Pioneer Girls.

My mother often had to work on Sundays, and my daddy didn't attend church too much. He would take me to Sunday School, and I often went home with Erma and had Sunday lunch with her family. I became very close to them and felt a part of their family. As years passed, and there were family reunions every year, I was always included, long after Don and I married and had our children.

Years went by. I graduated from college and went off to teach in Cincinnati. My father died in January of 1964. When I got home and went over to the church, Erma was there with the ladies, planning how they would help our family during our time of loss.

After five years, I was on my way to Haiti. Erma wanted to know how she could help me get ready to go. I needed some dresses that would be suitable for working in Haiti, and she got busy and helped me make some dresses that served me well during my time there.

I came home from Haiti and had fallen quickly in love with Don. We didn't have long to plan a wedding, but Erma was right there, asking how she could help. She told me not to worry about the reception, she would take care of everything. She did...even the cost. I took care of the cake, and she did everything else. Mind you, that was in the day when one had cake and punch at the reception, not elaborate dinners, but I'm sure she would have done that too.

After our children were born and turned 2, they graduated from the nursery to the 2's & 3's where Erma was the Sunday School teacher. All of us who had children pass through those doors were confident that their children were being lovingly cared for and taught Bible stories.

Some time passed, and Buck became ill. He was diagnosed with cancer and died almost a year later. Erma faithfully and lovingly cared for him during his illness and his passing. She was a true example of how a wife should be, from the day she married him until the day he died. Many wives and young women learned from her life.

Both Sharon and Glenn ended up in North Carolina, and some years ago, she decided that she would move to be near them. She said that she wanted to go while she was well enough to get out and get to know people and be part of a church where she could worship. Glenn had a lovely master suite in his home, and Erma lived there with them until just a few weeks ago. She would come back to visit here in Florida, and she often stayed with me when she came.

Last summer I stopped in North Carolina to see her on my way to be with Ella. I was so glad to see her again, and I knew that it might be the last. It was. But I know I will see her again in heaven. Good-by for now, my dear friend. I love you.

"Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints." Psalm 116

You Can't Stop Me Now!

I flew up to Virginia last week to spend a few days with Ella and her parents. When they were in Florida, I was getting ready for our Sweet Adelines show and feeling lousy, just having been diagnosed with shingles. After the show, we went to Disney World. While they were in the park, I was languishing in bed. I did manage to resurrect myself to go to breakfast with them at Chef Mickey's. And then they were gone.

David mentioned that Ella was outgrowing her little bike, so, of course, I said that we should get a bigger one, so off to T*rgt we went and found a "princess" bike. It didn't take long for David to put it together, and soon Ella was off. Doesn't she look proud!

I love the determination on her face as she rides. There isn't much stopping her.

How old were you when you got your first two-wheeler. I owned one. It was a 26 inch, super-duper Schwinn that my parents got for me when I was eight for Christmas. I took many spills as I learned to ride, but that bike served me well for many years.

Where to Begin?

I eagerly anticipated the arrival of Ella the Bella and her parents at the beginning of February. They arrived just two days before our annual Sweet Adelines show. A few days before their arrival, I began having all kinds of pain in my midsection, so I decided a trip to the doctor was in order.

After checking me over, she thought that I probably had shingles. A kidney stone was an option. Because the lab tech wasn't in that day, the urine sample couldn't be checked for an infection. So I went home with the assurance I could call any time during the weekend since she was on call. On Saturday, I had a rehearsal for Sweet Adelines in the morning, a Pampered Chef lunch at my house at noon, and then something else in the afternoon. I don't even remember what it was.

On Sunday I was still hurting, so I called her back. She suggested my going to an urgent care facility where they could do a scan and whatever was needed. There was no kidney stone, and a chest x-ray looked fine, so the dear doctor there said in his soft Cuban accent, "My dear, I believe you probably have shingles." I got a shot for the pain, antiviral drugs, a prescription for nausea and one for pain and went home. I broke out with a rash on Monday. I believe the antiviral drugs kept them from being so severe, but it has not been fun.

As you will notice, I'm not in any of these photos. The day after the Sweet Adelines show, we went to Disney World. The kids had a great time. I stayed in bed most of the day on Monday. I had told David and Sabrina that I wanted to take Ella and the family to a character breakfast, so on Tuesday we had breakfast at Chef Mickey's in the Contemporary Resort. The breakfast was yummy, and we really did enjoy seeing the characters up close and personal. I think I enjoyed it as much as Ella did.

The week went by much too quickly. The rash has subsided on my body; the pain is not as bad, but it is there. I'm finding that being quiet is better than lots of activity.

Just a couple of weeks before I came down with shingles, the nurse at our retired educators' meeting gave a brief report. Her point was to make sure that our immunizations were up-to-date, and then she mentioned the shot for shingles. I don't know where I've been because I thought that I usually stayed current on what I should be doing, but this one passed me by somehow. At the appropriate time, I will be getting it. I would not like to go through this again!