Like Father, Like Son

 

Most of my family, both on my mother's side and my father's side, will tell you how my son is the spitting image of yours truly - in looks, of course (especially when he was younger), but also in personality.  I was known to be sweet and thoughtful (see how I wrote that in the past tense?), a little on the hyper side (that is also very much in the past tense), and a little on the mischievous side.  "There comes little Tyla," someone will usually say at a get-together with extended family.  I tell you they are absolutely correct, and I love that little stinker all the more for it. 

Well, should my husband ever feel a little left out, he can always look back on today and swell with pride.  Just as my mother-n-law recounted to me a time when my husband, as a lad of only two or three, swallowed a Christmas bulb, my husband will one day be able to tell a future daughter-n-law how her husband swallowed a lego brick, as a lad of seven, while attempting to detach it from another brick.

And as that light bulb made a grand re-entrance into the world a day or so later (just as Dr. Carter had told my mother-n-law it would), we are anxiously awaiting the same result here.  Say a little prayer that it will be a smooth voyage. :)

Six Degrees of Davy Jones

First Whitney Houston, now Davy Jones. I know they weren’t the same age or popular during the same era but I was a fan of both. I especially loved Davy and watching him and the rest of the Monkees in reruns. That’s RERUNS, folks. I’m just shy of being old enough to have been around for the originals. Many Saturday mornings were spent watching them and often the theme song would become stuck in my head for the rest of the day. Hey, hey we’re the Monkees and people think we monkey around…

So in memory of “the cute one”, I thought I would share a connection I have to him. You know what they say about six degrees of separation, right?

In the mid-eighties (1986, I think), my husband John attended a Monkees concert at the Starwood Amphitheater in Nashville. He went with his girlfriend at the time, which was not me. I shan’t reveal her name, which was actually quite an unfortunate one. Anyway, their seats were close to the stage and when they arrived their friends, who were already there, pointed to the stage and said, “Look!”

John looks and sees Mike Nesmith (it was publicized that Nesmith would not be joining his band mates on tour) and says something really hip like, “Cool. He came!” His friend shouts back (apparently John and his girlfriend had arrived late enough that the concert was already in session), “No! Look again.”

And that’s when John notices that it is actually NOT Nesmith on stage, but instead one of his own best friends who would later serve as a groomsman in our wedding. John, again very hippily I’m sure, says, “Oh my gosh! That’s Chris O----!” You see, his friend, Chris O., could have passed for Mike’s twin, so much so that he won some contest that allowed him to take the stage with the band for a while. Which I do think is kind of cool.

And there you have it. I was practically friends with the Monkees.

RIP, Davy.


P.S. Wanna hear something else that ranks in the really cool category...Even though the 1986 tour for the Monkees was a huge financial success for Davy, Peter, and Micky you shouldn't feel sorry for Mike. It seems that Mr. Nesmith had recently inherited about a gazillion dollars from his mother's estate. His mom was a typist. Oh, and she INVENTED LIQUID PAPER!!! IN HER KITCHEN!!! IN HER BLENDER!!! Told you it was cool.

Well, He's Movin' on Up...

His last day to grade papers.

While John is still fresh on our minds, I thought I'd let you in on the news of his job change. Okay, I'll admit something. The past couple days have been slow in the news department and I just feel soooo guilty if I go too many days without posting, so I am using my husband as filler. Oh, he won't mind. He's been used as worse. A blue floral dress he donned in a womanless beauty pageant for charity many moons ago springs to mind.

John's presence will not be the only void felt at our school. We're losing two other fantastic teachers and one of our sweet cafeteria ladies. (L-R Ms. Betty P., John, Ms. Bonnie A., and Ms. Jean C.)

After 25 years in the classroom, he has made the jump into the world of school administration. Actually, it was more of a push gentle nudge from me. We need more money, John. Find more money. Ren will be needing a car. Ren will be going to college. Ren will one day get married and we are responsible for paying for it. Take your pick...raise and sell cows or become a principal. More money. More money. More money.

John receiving goodbyes from some of the students in his last class on his last day.

Once you have taught so many years your pay maxes out and the only way to increase your salary is to earn an additional degree or go into administration (after obtaining an additional degree). I know. I sound greedy, don't I? I try not to be materialistic. I'm really a very generous person. I'd give examples, but my parents were always telling me something about not letting one of my hands know what the other is up to, so you'll just have to take my word that I am not the money whore I just made myself out to be. I know money cannot buy happiness. Really, I do. But it can make things easier.

The bulletin board behind his desk on which he would showcase Ren's artwork when she was in elementary school.

Seriously, though, John felt it was time for a change. He would not have left a job he loved -and he did love it-just because of a little, okay a lot, of whining from me.

A hug and kiss from John-Heath.

In the quarter of a century he has taught (WOW! a quarter of a century -that even makes me feel a little older), the majority (23 years) has been at the middle school level. Now, he'll be moving up a level as the assistant principal at a local high school. From what we've been told, if one can handle middle schoolers and their earsplitting voices and sugar induced hyperactivity, high schoolers should be a walk in the park.

A teary-eyed Ren after the farewell luncheon and slideshow.

John has been a wonderful teacher and I have no doubt he'll make an excellent administrator. Of course, come August I am going to miss being able to work in such close proximity to him. I mean we were literally right across the hall from each other. It will be weird not seeing him at the front of his class when I walk out my library doors.

So long, dear.

My loss, however, is Ren's gain. She'll have her daddy with her each and every day for her last years of high school. And best of all? He and I will even get to chaperone her proms! I see carpooling in someone's future. Come to think of it, she really won't even need her own car until it's time for college. This may explain the tears she shed at the luncheon. ;)

Bring on the AARP

Leaving for church this morning, we found this posted at the end of our drive. It was John's birthday greeting from his sister DeAnn. Hmmm. We've always thought of naming our home. Looks like it's been done for us.

My hubby celebrated another birthday today. Had festivities included one, our house may have burned to the ground due to the number of candles that would have adorned his cake. How many? Let's just say a lot! Well, maybe not a lot, but always seven more than meeee!

Happy birthday, dear. It won't be long now.

My Missed 15 Minutes of Fame and a Whole Lotta Rain

We are in what seems like our very own 40 days and nights of rain here in Middle Tennessee. My yard is a mess, my drive is a mess, and my hair is one big ol' frizzy mess. Speaking of Noah, it's a good thing God promised never to destroy the world by water again because there are some species that just wouldn't make the cut if this gal was in charge of rounding them up 2x2.

As I was saying, we've had several days and nights of rain, thunderstorms, and tornado warnings. These sleepless/restless nights of looking out windows and watching the weather on and off all through the night are wearing thin. My parents, as well as a friend, told me they were awakened three times the other night by their weather radios reporting warnings in the area. I have to say I'm glad my parents have one. As they are older, it really gives me peace of mind, especially now that it seems the south has become the new tornado alley.

Of course, more storms seem to be on the way tonight. So, hunker down, my friends.

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John is enjoying the 15 minutes of fame he is receiving from having been selected a TOY. Today, he was interviewed on air by a radio station from a neighboring county. I have to say, despite the lackluster questioning by the host, he (John) did a good job. I would say he did a great job except for the fact that he failed to make any mention of a very important bit of information...me. Can you believe that? Ren and John-Heath were left in the dust, as well.

I am plotting my evil revenge as we speak - okay, as I type.

Those Who Can

John 3 years ago at the start of his 22nd year teaching.

There are many things which annoy me about my husband and just as many things about me which annoy him. I know. It’s hard to believe I could annoy anyone, but I suppose I have to take him at his word on it.

As I was saying, my husband has many flaws. He is a terrible, with a T to the terrible, gift-giver. Somewhere in a nearby landfill there is an ironing board which bears testament to this fact. He is an equally poor attentive listener. Should John-Heath be placed on meds for ADD one day, I will blame his dad for passing on bad genetic material. Also, my husband can be a scrooge, especially when it comes to his time. You thought I was going to say money, didn’t you? Well, he can be that, too.

Yet, for all these annoy adorable imperfections, there is one thing my husband does better than just about anyone else I know; teaching.

Indulge me for a moment while I brag on him, and mark this moment for posterity’s sake, as it is not often he deserves such boastful expressions, especially since he paid no attention as our son drove to the end of our driveway yet again in his little tractor while on his watch.

Quite simply, he’s excellent. He has been for a long time but now he has a little recognition to back up my claim.

A few months ago our faculty named him as our school’s Teacher of the Year. Then a few weeks after that he was informed he had been named the Middle School Teacher of the Year for our county. This in itself was a real thrill for our family, as we work in one of the largest counties in the state.

Then he received another congratulatory call. This one came as we were on spring break. John had been chosen as the Upper Cumberland Region Middle School Teacher of the Year. The UC Regional Field Service Center is made up of 22 counties/districts, so this was a complete surprise and a wonderful honor!

John and the kids on our farm last summer.

Now, his application will be forwarded, along with the names of the other regional winners, to the committee who will select the winners to represent each of Tennessee’s three grand divisions (East, Middle, and West). Each grand division will honor an elementary, middle and high school teacher. From those 9 the field will be narrowed to three and then one, the Tennessee Teacher of the Year.

Here’s hoping we’ll have even more good news to report a little later (knock on wood, salt over your shoulder, rub the rabbit’s foot).

And the Beat Goes On

John playing the piano from his childhood for the last time accompanied by John-Heath on (John's) trumpet from his high school band days.

John-Heath is a big fan of muse-kit (that’s what you and I call music) and from what I gather from conversations I have with him about school, it is his second favorite related arts class (behind PE, of course).

Like all babies, he loved it when someone would sing to him. His favorite, and he still asks for this some nights, was a little tune I made up called “Baby Boy”. It sort of starts out (through the word sweet) with the same melody as the Largo movement in Dvorak’s Symphony No. 9, "From the New World".

Baby boy,
Baby boy.
He’s a sweet baby boy.
Momma loves her baby boy.
He’s as sweet as pumpkin pie.

When he was a little younger than two we realized that, not only did he enjoy music, he could appreciate music and be moved, emotionally, by it. He was playing with Ren’s keyboard one day and hit the button for the pre-programmed song selections. We soon heard an instrumental version of “My Heart Will Go On” (you got it...Titanic) wafting through the house followed by ... sobbing. My little baby boy was crying his eyes out. He did this on one other occasion when he heard this same song being played. Now, had he seen Titanic I would perhaps feel that he was simply making a connection between the song and a sad movie. But he hadn’t seen it (or anything else, as it took three years before he showed the slightest interest in watching television. But that’s another story). So I can only assume that children can appreciate music and that it touches their soul the same as ours. Truth be told, with their pure essence, they probably appreciate it more.

Speaking of music, my husband said goodbye to an old friend recently...his piano - the Kohler and Campbell his parents purchased new for him and his sister in 1972 or ‘73. When his mom moved out of the home in which she raised her family into something smaller the piano came to live with us. And we just didn’t need another one. I still have the piano my parents bought me in the late 70’s when I started taking lessons (my Kimball currently resides in my nephew’s home while his little boys, Weston and Dylan, take lessons). Thus, we had to sell it. And, of course, it’s always sad to part with something that has occupied a place in your home and hearts for so many years, so we did so with a little anxiety. But it just so happened that my cousin has a little girl who is now learning to play and she bought it. Therefore, technically, it’s still in the family and, most importantly, it is being played again.

The Thursday Three

Well, I’ve just been blown away this evening. I have been honored with my first blogging award. The ever sweet Kate over at Southern Belle Simple

has awarded me the Versatile Blogger Award. Right back at ya, Kate. You’re great!

It seems that this distinction comes with a stipulation, though. In order to receive it I must list 7 things about myself. I think I might be able to do that if I wrack my brain hard enough. You remember, it hasn’t been long since I filled you guys in on 100 things about me. Surely I can come up with 7 more.

I actually had another post ready for tonight until I found out about the award. Therefore, today’s Thursday Three will need to become the Thursday Seven. And in honor of my honor I think I’ll list 7 great things I’ve won over the years.

1. $50
Once when I was about 13 my family visited Cave City, Ky (okay, stop laughing. It was only about an hour’s drive from my home and we decided to go for a couple days... every other year. I guess you can start laughing again). Anyway, at this little souvenir shop that sold a lot of things made out of cedar and corn cobs, I registered in a drawing to win $50 cash. Of course, I never thought I’d win but a few weeks later a $50 bill arrived at my house in the mail. Talk about some honest shopkeepers.
2. Most Thoughtful Girl
This honor was bestowed upon me at the tender age of nine by my 4th grade teacher as part of an end-of-the-year classroom awards day. There are some who have doubted the legitimacy of this award over the years.
3. Most Talkative
Sophomore year band awards. This award was never in doubt.

Now that's a high-quality certificate

4. Miss Southern Belle 2nd Runner-up
This was a hometown pageant to celebrate Tennessee’s bicentennial in 1986, and my first experience with an up-do.
A really UP up-do

5. 2nd place in Poetry Recitation
I recited a poem about a rose at Union University Spanish competitions held in Jackson, Tn. during my junior (?) year of high school. Versos Sencillos por Jose Marti. That means “Simple Verses by Jose Marti” and it is the only part that I can still recite today.

6. Versatile Blogger Award
Given to me by the ever fabulous Kate.

7. My husbandIt did take some wooing, especially after the french fries caper. Refer back to my May 4th post to refresh your memory about this incident.
Any guess as to the decade in which my senior prom occurred?

Thanks again. It seems only right that I now pass the award on to others. But who? I’ll have to to give that some thought and get back with you. Stay tuned.

Dunroamin

The first several late Mays and/or early Junes of our marriage saw John helping his father cut hay on their land, Dunroamin Farms. This process usually took a couple weeks, depending on the weather. They would each be on a tractor and cut at the same time usually, I believe, in different fields. After the hay was cut it was left to dry out on the ground for a day or two. Then when it was ready one man would rake and one would round-bale. I know that at one time they did some square-baling too but I think this had stopped by the late 80's or very early 90's, as I don't remember it.

This schedule would go on from morning 'til dark until the farm was completely cut, raked, baled, and transported to holding areas where it would be covered in large rolls of black plastic to protect it from the elements. Square bales, of course, were stacked in one of the three barns.

For the past several years - up to this one - the farm was leased out. Prior to his death, John's father's health kept him from tending to it like he had done for years and my John was not in a position due to other commitments to do it. Therefore, some other men paid to run cattle on it.

This is the first year in a hundred years that cattle have not been on the farm. But John is trying to rebuild the hay fields from some overgrazing. His goal is to start out small and, hopefully, rebuild the farm into what it once was.

John and John-Heath in front of a newly rolled bale of hay. John didn't actually do any of the cutting or baling this year. Two other men took care of it this year.

Isn't he sweet? He loves the farm and never tires of walking over it with John. He is a true-blooded little farm boy.

Overall, Ren is more of an indoor kinda girl but she does like getting out and going for walks on the farm. As long as no manual labor is involved she's good to go.

This was such a nice, breezy night as you can tell by the hair in Ren's face.

Ever ready to pose for a picture.

A Recap

It seems like forever since I last posted anything and, well, I don't really have anything big to share tonight. To be honest I have not felt much like blogging lately. Mostly, I think, it's just because things get so busy at the end of a school year that when it finally comes to an end you just want to not do anything you were doing before - at least for a little while. So, I probably won't be posting everyday, just as things pop up.

Here's a rundown of what's been going on with our family over the past few days.

1. John turned 47 yesterday. I am told that when one reaches a certain age he or she doesn't really like to celebrate anymore. Therefore, the kids and I just took him to a simple little dinner at Cherokee Steakhouse. Being there made us want a boat in a very bad way. For those that are not familiar with this place, Cherokee is also a marina.

2. We are possibly refinancing our mortgage. If this happens it will get our interest rate down to 4.25%, which is a pretty good rate, I guess. Wouldn't it be nice to not even have a mortgage? Of course, not having a mortgage might mean not having a house. Therefore, we are thankful for every payment we make.

3. Ren has had what you might say is her first heartbreak. I won't go into many details right now. Let's just say she is finding out the young man she has liked for the past couple months is not the guy she thought him to be.

4. John-Heath's play set is almost complete and he is loving it.

5. I am not loving the sand John added to it. Said sand is being removed this week.

6. John-Heath will be turning 5 this week. I just can't hardly believe it.

7. I have been sick this week with what I think is the same thing John-Heath and John have already gone through. I have sneezed 321 times today. Okay, I wasn't actually keeping count but it was a lot!!!

Well, it's late (or early, depending on how you look at it) and I am off to sleep. Goodnight friends. I'll be sure to post again in a couple days.

Attack of the 50 Ft. Hubby

My favorite shot from all the pictures made of him that day.

Well, they went and took my husband's picture and they put it on an oil can. A really, rreeaally BIG oil can. In TEXAS! And you know if it's in Texas it's going to be big. Everything in Texas is big! That I learned from watching Dallas with my sister (her favorite show, by the way). Big hair! Big hats! Big houses! Big Business!

A couple years back John was invited to model for the talented, award-winning artist David Wright. David, who just happens to live down the road in Gallatin, is what I consider a painter of American history. He's done countless projects depicting Native Americans, the Civil War, and frontier times, and John has had the great fortune of being able to work for him on a few of these. I love it when he gets a call from David! Visions of free artwork dance in my head.

To see more of his beautiful work go here. You won't be disappointed.

Anyway, for this particular project some people from Native Sun Productions out of Ohio used David's place as the location to shoot images of various models in period costumes depicting the struggles of the early Texans. These images were later transformed into some GINORMOUS murals.

Last year, the murals were finally put in place on large oil storage tanks owned by Shell. These tanks are located along Hwy 225 in Deer Park, Texas. I keep telling John we need to drive out and see the tanks in person (I mean, how many people can say they've seen an image of themselves on that scale and magnitude?) but he has yet to give in to that idea.

That's John in the blue. Cute hat, huh?

So for now we'll just have to look at the pictures. And you can look, too, unless you want to drive to Texas to see the real deal. Hey! If you do, can I go?

One of the big tanks.

A closeup we, just today, found on the internet. Good thing his nose was clean.

What's in a Name?

There are times when I wish I had had another child. But, after more thought, I realize it is only so that I could have named one more child (although I do very much envy these women who have several children and are able to seemingly handle the job with all smiles and patience).

And just what would that name have been? Scout. I have been a fan of it for years - even before Demi and Bruce gave it to one of their offspring. In fact, had John-Heath not been born a boy he would have been Scout. I already had it picked out. My mother did not care for it too much, as she didn't think it was really a name-name. Her reply when I told her was "Scout? Like the Indian?". No, not like the Indian. Like the tom-boy in To Kill a Mockingbird.

Ren would probably have been a Scout, too, but we agreed that John would name our firstborn if it were a girl and I would name a boy (at the time my two favorite choices were Charles Court or Charles Bartholomew ).

Ren's given name is Katelyn Ren. John found the "Ren" at a book signing in which he and two other gentlemen were signing copies of a book they had written. When John asked to whom he should address one particular book a lady said her name was Ren. We both chose the Katelyn because we thought it would sound nice as the first name. I think we may have gotten that off the back of a movie box.

A funny story about her name...when Ren was in the 5th grade she decided that she no longer wanted to be called Ren. That was a borrring name. Instead, she would be called Katelyn - like there aren't a hundred of those in every school in about as many variations. Anyway, she told her librarian this (I wasn't the librarian there yet). He, in turn, proceeded to ask John - as he taught across the hall from the library - if this was okay to do. John's reply was "Katelyn? She can't even spell Katelyn." Which was probably true at the time.

John-Heath's patronymic came about in a more traditional way. Even though I was still very fond of the idea of a Court or a Bartholomew, I gave in to sentimentalism and named him after his two grandfathers. John-Heath is a fifth generation John, following John Franklin, John Silas, John Silas, Jr., and John Franklin (again). The Heath is one of my family names - and a most distinguished name, too. It is of Middle English origin and means "untended land where certain flowering shrubs grow"...sounds kinda like a description of John-Heath's playroom and what could be growing in there.


...a name thought to be pretty by a dear family friend, Ms. Effie, who suggested it to my mom.

Fajitas and Fried Chicken

Ren seems very excited about her Spanish class, even though she and a friend are the only two freshmen in this particular block. To celebrate, I insisted we eat a celebratory meal at the local Mexican restaurant. The kids had soft tacos, John had steak fajitas, and I had chicken nachos. Okay, okay. Actually, I had been thinking about eating out during the day and this was an easy excuse.

I would love to fill my little blog with all the wonderful cuisine I serve my family but the truth is I rather detest cooking. I can cook. I'm not horrible at it - usually. But day-to-day cooking is not something I've ever really looked upon as an enjoyable pleasure. And I must admit that John does more than I when it comes to meal preparation. I did have high hopes when we first married, though.

One Sunday, one of the first after we were finally able to move into the old family home place which had been remodeled for us, I decided to make my darling husband a traditional Sunday-after-church lunch - fried chicken. Yum! Yum! I called my mother Betty, an EXCELLENT cook, and asked how to make it.

She gave me the very simple instructions....

1. rinse off the chicken legs in some running water

2. heat some grease in the iron skillet

3. break an egg and dip the legs into this

4. coat the legs in some flour

5. fry until done in the skillet

5 easy steps. But what momma did not know was that she had a daughter who could always find an easier way to do something. And I did. I would mix my egg and my flour and viola...I would satisfy my husband and do it in less time.

Mental picture of the end result...think pancakes in the shape of a chicken leg. Mmm. Mmm.

We still have Sunday chicken after church. We just have it at the Corner Cafe for $5 per plate.