Ahhh...Polecats.

My paternal grandfather, born in 1910, was a farmer most of his life and was one of the finest men to ever walk this earth.  To this day, I can not hear Randy Travis’ song “He Walked on Water” without thinking of him.   He left us in 2000 just one month shy to the day of his ninetieth birthday and his passing left a hole never to be filled in our family.

Pa Frazier, as most Southerners from that generation, had a way with words and a few that I distinctly remember consist of his description of a skunk and what it could do for certain upper respiratory ailments. 

Anytime we would pass near an area where one of the odorous creatures had recently been Pa would usually declare, “Ahhh…polecat…clears up the sinuses", to which we would giggle while wrinkling up our noses.

Well, as he was about most things in life, Pa was correct in his philosophy of skunks, too.  I have had some sort of a terrible head cold for the past couple weeks which has temporarily disabled my sense of smell.  Yesterday, however, it was momentarily relieved when we all  arrived at church to find that a skunk had somehow made its way under the foundation.  

Ahhh….polecats.

 

P.S.  I also learned yesterday via our preacher that in days long past people would sometimes use the grease from a cooked skunk as a chest salve for croup and such.  Okay, now that really does make me wrinkle my nose.

A Close Call or Two

Last night turned out to be an evening of close calls.

First, our boys basketball team won an exciting game over a private school I have long detested by one point with a last second shot in the first round of the district tournament. Now, I'm just a fan and I really know next to nothing about the game, but I think it's the best I've seen our guys play all year. Oh, I do know one thing, though...Bye Bye, Cougars!

While at the game, John-Heath, returning from one of his many trips to the bathroom, lobby, and/or hospitality room (being the kid of an AP has its perks), shows up with a box of popcorn from the concession stand (he had no money) and proclaims (in a tone reminiscent of Delmar at his baptism in O, Brother Where Art Thou), "The concession stand is closed and the popcorn is free."

Turns out, there were free boxes of popcorn on a table as we left. So, John-Heath grabbed another to take to Ma-Ma and Pa Gene.

Now, my mother is very impressed with how well John-Heath is reading to be only six and while at her house (dropping off the free popcorn) she wanted him to demonstrate for my sister who had arrived shortly after us.

"He can read anything. Just listen. John-Heath, read this to Sissy." At which point, she picks up a local paper that she had not yet read herself and hands it to him to read, pointing at the headline.

He begins..."Man accused of watching wife have..." and that was all he got out before, luckily, my mother realized the error of her way and snatched it away from him. She was mortified, John-Heath was intrigued by the commotion and tried to get the paper back, and the rest of had a good laugh at mom's expense.

Considering what the headline turned out to be, it was a very close call, indeed.

Chicken Taco Soup and My Sister's Name, Her Real One

Did you know that I call my sister Sissy? Well, I do. She’s almost seventeen years older than me, my only sibling, and pretty much my second mother. Her name is Shelia and I guess I couldn’t pronounce it when I was little so I just called her Sissy and it stuck. I don’t know that I have ever called her by her real name. I do know that I misspelled it once on something kinda important. It was the invitations to our parents’ fortieth wedding anniversary celebration (that was over twenty years ago) and I spelled it Sheila. She was not, I repeat, NOT, happy with me. So, when writing her real name on things, I now always go through a little mental routine…SHE, SHE, SHE.

Anyway, this is Sheila’s, Shelia’s, Sissy’s recipe for Chicken Taco Soup. It is what she served on Halloween (a fun night, both parts) and I served this past Saturday night when my Denver Broncos played against the Patriots (a not-so-fun night). Bon appétit!

You will need:
Canned white chicken meat (2 large and 1 small - I just used the Great Value brand at Wal-mart). I guess you could boil a real chicken, but why go to that trouble?
2 cans black beans (drained)
2 cans light red kidney beans (drained)
2 cans yellow, whole kernel corn (drained)
2 cans petite diced tomatoes
1 pack McCormick’s original taco seasoning
1 pack McCormick’s chicken taco seasoning
About 14 oz. of tomato juice (I just poured it from a large bottle into one of my empty diced tomato cans)

Directions:Empty all the ingredients (except for the chicken and the seasoning packs) into a large pot and stir.
Drain the chicken, break the chunks apart, and stir it and both packs of seasonings into a skillet and brown/heat for a few minutes. Once this is done I add it to the rest in the large pot.
If you want it soupier you can add a little more tomato juice or water.
Serve with shredded cheeses and Tostitos scoops. Yummy!

Hot Buttered Rum

"In the dead of winter when the tinsel angels come
You're my sweet maple sugar, honey, hot buttered rum."

"And in the dead of winter if springtime never comes
You're my sweet maple sugar, honey, hot buttered rum."

In 1933...

Meg, Ren, Sissy, John-Heath, and my momma.

...many things happened. We were in the middle of the worst year of the Great Depression, the top soil of drought-ridden lands in the Midwest was stripped by strong winds causing dust bowls, FDR became the U.S. president, five-year-old Shirley Temple signed a contract with Fox, the original King Kong was shown to movie-goers, and the Loch Ness Monster was sighted for the first time in modern times.

But the greatest event for me personally that year was the birth of a baby girl named Betty Jean. 'Cause if she hadn't come along, you wouldn't be reading this right now.

Happy Birthday, Momma. I love ya!

How Much things cost in 1933
Average Cost of new house $5,750.00
Average wages per year $1,550.00
Cost of a gallon of Gas 10 cents
Average Cost for house rent $18.00 per month
Vacuum Cleaner $17.75
A loaf of Bread 7 cents
Newport Boulevard Ladies Hat $1.69
A LB of Hamburger Meat 11 cents
Silk and Rayon Stockings 39 cents a Pair
Plymouth 6 Car $445.00
Health Building Tonic 89 cents
Campbells Vegetable Soup 10 cents
1933 Vintage Radio $52.00
Average Laborers Wage $20.00 per week

Information obtained here.

A Ho-Hum Day

What to write? What to write?

I got nothin'.

So, on this glorious first day of JUNE, enjoy these (shall we say long overdue?) pictures of my children from Easter Sunday.

Yay! The Easter bunny came! At our house, the children set out their baskets (the same ones they have always had) the night before and awaken to baskets filled with goodies.

Legos!!!
A boy and his basket.

Traditional before-church-in-our-Easter-best picture.

Two handsome fellas at church - my great-nephews Weston and Dylan.

Young cousins eating lunch on the porch.

A bunch of Frazier and Sophie's offspring gather for Easter.

There are still some more money eggs waiting to be found.

John-Heath taking one last mouthful of cousin Tammy's yummy Easter cake.

Diamond Anniversary Wishes

Today, two very special people will celebrate their 60th wedding anniversary. Yep. You read correctly. 60!!! You don't hear much of longevity anymore in terms of marriage. Heck, even John and I are both in our second marriages. Of course, our first marriages were to each other so maybe that still counts.

This past Sunday during the part of our church service in which we recognize people having birthdays or celebrating anniversaries, this couple was called forth to be sung to. (yes, I realize I ended that sentence with a prep, but sometimes you just gotta) While there, the lovely former bride said a few words on being married that long and the blessings that have come from those 60 years, namely two daughters, three grandsons, two granddaughters, and two great-grandsons.

Now, you know me. I am a fan of humor. So, the funniest part of this talk (what we Baptists sometimes call testifying or giving a testimony) was when she spoke of how, as a young girl, "walking the streets" of her town, she met a good looking boy driving a shiny car (not his) and wearing a hat with up-turned sides. Upon the "walking the streets" part, one of her daughters became tickled and laughed aloud. Meant in the most innocent way, it still sounded quite hilarious coming forth from her mom's mouth.

So, Happy Anniversary to two people whom I've had the honor of knowing for 41 of their 60 years together, my momma and daddy.

Tyla

P.S. I confess. It was I who laughed out loud at mom's recollection at church Sunday.

P.S.S. I am really starting to get peeved at Blogger. First, I have been unable to leave comments on posts of some of my blogging buddies and NOW...I have no signature. I actually had to type in my name. I know what you're thinking....Ohhh, the tragedy. ;)

Shane

Some people come into our lives and quickly go.

Others stay for a while and leave footprints on our hearts

and we are never the same.

- anonymous

Shane Harrison

1971 - 1990

Twenty-one years ago this morning, my family lost my sister's son to an automobile accident. He was much loved and well known for his infectious smile and the easy nature of his friendship. Though time smooths the sharp edge of grief, there remains a void which can never be filled.

Remembering you on this day, Shanie Boy.

Birthday Wishes

Today, I want to send out birthday wishes to my favorite niece. Megan is now 23. I was a senior in high school the year she was born and I remember my nephew Shane, her brother, running down the hallway at school to tell me, “Momma had her baby!”

Until I had children of my own she was my child. And, of course, she was none too happy to relinquish that role when Ren was born seven years later. I remember when Ren was only a few weeks old being at my sister’s house where everyone was oohing and ahhing over her - everyone except Megan, who shouted “all ya’ll care about is that dumb baby” and took leave to her room where she packed her bags intent on running away. Moments later, she re-entered the living room and interrupted the newborn baby worship with this announcement, “I’ve got my phone and some clean panties and I’m going to the building.” Evidently, she didn’t want to run too far, as the building was just off the back patio.

Happy birthday, Meg-Peg! I’m sorry you were disappointed in not retaining your role as my beneficiary, but you are still my favorite niece ;)

Meet Johnny Ricker

I have a confession to make. If you are member of PETA you may want to read no more. I also suspect I might lose a follower or two due to my disclosure. But, here goes...

I hate cats! Well, I use to hate cats! Are you still reading? You are? Awesome. Then I'll continue.

I actually had a kitten once, long ago when I was a little girl. I named her Sandy, which makes me think I was about 8 or 9 and had recently seen Grease, as I can think of no other reason to have named a gray cat Sandy. Anyway, I loved my little kitten but was afraid it was going to get eaten by a dog in our neighborhood, so I took her to the country to live in my grandparents' barn. Then something must have happened.

I'm not really sure when or why I began to dislike critters of the feline persuasion. I just know that for almost 30 years I did. To be honest, I loathed them. That is until one showed up on our porch a few months back and John-Heath was instantly in love.

I was initially determined for John to rid our home of this creature. Were we seriously going to keep a cat? I think thought not! But somehow a 5-year-old has a way of breaking down decades-old barriers. Quite simply, his love for this cat just melted my heart. Once he named it (yep...Johnny Ricker), it was all but over.

Turns out, Johnny Ricker (who also goes by Pepper, the name Ren gave him) belongs to our neighbor, Mr. Scott. We figured this out on Halloween night when we took John-Heath over to trick or treat at Mr. Scott and Ms. Rachel's. For a while, it seemed that Pepper was doing quite a bit of commuting back and forth. Now, he mostly just hangs out here.

He may not hang out here much longer if John-Heath keeps loving him this much!

I do have my limits, though. He must remain an outdoor cat. However, this hasn't kept John-Heath from trying his best to sneak him in from time to time, often successfully. But in the end, he usually gives his secret away by saying things like, "You don't need to look in my closet, Mom." Or the best one yet...

Once, as we were returning home from church and talk turned to Pepper's

whereabouts (he had not been seen any that morning before church), John-Heath announces, "Well, I didn't put him upstairs in my bedroom, that's for sure."

How can I not love this cat!

P.S. So far, Pepper has turned out to be a pretty good little pet - unlike Carrot Jello's naughty little sweetheart! If you want a good laugh (or maybe a good cry) stop by and check out her last two posts.

Aren't They Just Grand?

That's me in my Pa Vernon's lap, along with Momma Beatrice and cousins Debbie, Tonya, and Suzanne.

Yesterday was Grandparents Day. I forgot. Until yesterday afternoon. My mother reminded me. A sweet boy at church welcomed her with a “Happy Grandparents Day” greeting and one great big hug. It wasn’t John-Heath. We weren’t there. At church. On Grandparents Day. Because I forgot.

Actually, we rarely miss the worship service at church. I am the piano player and that makes it a little harder to skip. Our absence is somewhat more noticeable, as is our usual late entrance. My father implores me each and every Saturday to attend Sunday School. “Now get up in time to be at Sunday School tomorrow," he will say. My response is, “Well.” (I know well is not an actual response, and I'm not sure where I picked that word up, but I have a terrible, terrible habit of using it as the acknowledgement to a request). My dad’s response to my response is, “Don’t just say ‘well’. Get up and Come.” I know I should get back in the routine of going to Sunday School and I do enjoy it when we go. We send John-Heath. I’m hoping that counts for something.

Anyway, back to Grandparents Day. My kids adore my parents and my parents adore them. We cannot head south to go anywhere that John-Heath is not begging to stop by and see them. And, of course, Ren would always rather stay at their house than go out with us on weekends. For their part, my parents make sure they come by to see the kids every other day or so. And usually they come bearing some type of gift. Truthfully, I believe my parents love my children more than they love me. I guess all grandparents feel this way. So I think it’s understood that no special day is needed for them to realize the bond they share and that everyday to my kids is a grandparents day. Or I’m hoping they understand this. Of course, based on the fact that my mother made a point to tell me the story of the little boy hugging her at church in honor of this holiday, I may be wrong.

As for me, I was blessed with some really great grands. My maternal grandparents both passed away by the time I was 8. Even so, I have fond memories of being with them. My mother’s mother died a few months before I was born but my step-grandmother, Momma Beatrice, doted on me as if I were her own. I remember once going out on a cold day and gathering up snow to make some “snow cream”, which, let me tell you, was a real treat to a four-year-old. And, if memory serves me correctly, she added food coloring to the cream to make it even more special. After making sure my coat and little purple gloves were securely on we were off. In good weather she and Pa Vernon, who was a quiet man, led me around on their mule Kit. I’m not sure if any pictures were ever taken of this but I would certainly love to have one of me on top of that old mule with my grandparents holding the lead line.

My dad’s parents were with me longer. Mammy Sophie (her name was actually spelled Sophia, but we pronounced it Sophie - like the Meryl Streep movie) passed away a couple months before I turned 18 and I had Pa Frazier until my 30th year. Mammy was about four years older than Pa and I always thought that must have been quite the scandal in their time. My cousin even wrote a family poem alluding to it once.

Now, mammy was a good woman and loved me I have no doubt. However, she didn’t dote on me as my other grandmother did. My nephew Shane (my sister’s son) got all the attention there. But I don’t remember this causing much jealousy or hurt feelings. He lived just down the road from them and was with them all the time so they practically helped raise him. Besides, with nine other grandchildren and a handful of great-grandchildren around it’s not like I was the only one in that boat.

I remember my mammy’s voice. It was a sweet, kindly one. She was not in good health and did not get out much so most of her time was spent sitting in her chair in the kitchen wearing little, unembellished cotton dusters. From her spot she could see the television and was within reach of the phone. And quite often she would call in the afternoon to check on us and see how everyone was doing. Once, as a teen, I remember answering the phone on my dad’s desk. It was mammy. I am pretty sure I rolled my eyes and/or silently huffed this particular day because I didn’t have time to talk to my grandmother, or any adult for that matter. I was on the way to my bedroom to do something super-duper important like watch MTV or reconfigure my twist-bead necklaces. Throughout the years I spoke with my grandmother by phone on numerous occasions, but this is the only time I remember. And the times I remember it, which are frequent, are always accompanied by this thought - what I wouldn’t give to hear her on the other end of the line just one more time.

Pa Frazier? Well, I have never known a man as kind as he (my daddy is a very close second). I don’t think he ever possessed a mean bone in his body. And could he cook!!! His specialty was fried chicken and biscuits. Again, as a teen, I wasn’t so very appreciative of these things. I did appreciate his humor and his stories, though. Pa liked to tease and had an easy laugh. I think the only one in the family who did not appreciate this was Ren. She was still very young and didn’t think it so funny when he would poke his cane toward her. During most visits she would stay backed up between some adult’s legs with a scowl on her face. When he passed away and we were at the graveyard preparing to say our final goodbyes, Ren, who was four at the time, saw a tombstone close by shaped like a semi-truck. To her it looked like a train. To my dismay she quickly mounted it and, in a very loud voice, let out a “Choo-Choo.” Now, at such a solemn moment I was quite naturally mortified by this behavior and quickly snatched her off her granite perch. But at the same time I remember thinking I bet Pa would have gotten a kick out of it.

If you are lucky enough to still have dear parents and grandparents in your life cherish each moment with them. For the time will come when their phone calls will be no more.

School + Work + Football + Volleyball = One Tired, Busy Family

Hello there. It seems like I have been away from my computer for a complete lunar cycle but, alas, it has only been 3 days. Not a lot to tell. Ren had her first football game this past Friday night. For those of you joining us in progress, Ren is one of the water girls for her high school football team. She really does enjoy it and I think she is doing an excellent job...probably the best water girl in the history of the sport (of course, I guess I'm biased).

Today, was her first volleyball game. She loves this sport. Thankfully, she is now considered part of the varsity team so once the main game is over she can leave. Last year, the team was so small in number varsity and JV were practically the same so she had to stay for both. This made for some late nights.

Though we love to see her participate in these things it sure does leave little time for many other family chores and activities. And it can also be hard on one's back side if you know what I mean, and I think you do.

As for John-Heath's day, it seems he "got a yellow card, then a red card, but then I got a green card again so it was all okay and I got to play." The kindergarten classes use a discipline system in which the children start out with a green card each day. When they misbehave, etc. they must turn or pull a card. It goes from green to yellow to red to black - which is for one really terrible thing or a whole lot of little things. John and I are taking bets on how long it will be before Mr. Black Card reveals himself.

Tonight, John went into his room where he saw pieces of paper laid out on the floor. When he asked about this John-Heath informed him that these were his students' papers. He was playing school. When John asked his name he replied, "Miss Angel", which is his teacher. John left the room but continued to listen in and heard the newest educator in our family conduct a lesson with his pupils saying things like "boys and girls, I need you to get out your paper" and "no, I need you to do this now", as he corrected some unruly child (I wonder who his inspiration was for that role?).

Well, I'm tired. Please overlook grammatical errors and the like as I don't feel inclined to go back and proofread. Headed to bed, my friends.

Decoration (plus a recipe)

New Hope Cemetery - the 1969 on the arch refers, I think, to when the gate was built. The cemetery itself was around long before then. The white table-like structure just inside the gate is the pulpit from which some outdoor sermons have been preached. Don't you just love the oak tree?

My grandparents.

Yesterday was decoration at the cemetery in which my mother’s father and his wife - Pa Vernon and Mama Beatrice - are buried. In case you are not from the south, “decoration“ is the day set aside each year at a particular cemetery when family members of folks buried there come out to adorn the graves with fresh flowers and spend time visiting with others who have come out to do the same. And usually on these days there is a meal.

Now some decorations include dinner on the ground, in which there is a potluck meal served on the grounds of the cemetery. This is not to say that the food is actually placed on the ground. Usually there are folding tables and chairs. My brother-n-law thinks this is waayyy too creepy and refuses to participate in such meals held at cemeteries. He’s a New Yorker by birth, so we'll forgive him this stubborness.

My mother’s family traditionally gets together at someone’s house for just such a meal after church. These past several years it has been held at my Aunt Carol’s. She recently remodeled and has a very nice garage and sun room in which to set up tables. In fact, her garage seems nicer than some of the rooms in my house.

Everyone brings a little something to contribute to the meal. But most of the cooking (the good cooking, at least) is done by the ladies from the more, umm how should I say this, mature generation. Someone remarked yesterday that when these ladies are gone our meal will most likely consist of Kentucky Fried Chicken and side dishes from some deli. And, it’s sad to say, this is probably true. Does anyone from my generation cook like my mom’s generation? I know I don’t.

It was a yummy meal and I know I was not the only one who was stuffed to the point of being miserable. We had turkey and dressing, ham, mashed potatoes, scalloped potatoes, pinto beans, green beans, corn, deviled eggs, and about 13 different casseroles. Then to top it all off there was chocolate pie, coconut cake, banana pudding, fudge pie, pecan pie, and ice cream. We were taking bets on who would fall into a diabetic shock afterwards.

I think I might try to start compiling some of my mom’s, sister’s, and aunts’ recipes one here. I guess I should start with what I took to yesterday’s lunch. This is a little recipe that my sister gave me a long time ago. It’s super easy and is a nice dessert alternative for those who want something a little less rich than chocolate pies or oooey gooey caramel brownies.

Easy Fruit Salad

You will need:

2 29 oz. cans light fruit cocktail
1 15 oz. can mandarin oranges
Apples (red and green)
Bananas
Fresh grapes, if desired
Instant vanilla pudding
Chopped walnuts, if desired


Cut up apples (leaving the skins on). Peel and slice the bananas. Dip the apples and bananas in lemon juice to keep them from turning brown.

In a large bowl, mix the fruit cocktail with the DRAINED can of mandarin oranges. Sprinkle on as much of the instant vanilla pudding as you need to make it the consistency you prefer (If you want it really thick and “puddiny” you will want to add a lot. My family doesn’t like it that way so I add just a light coating of the pudding mix). Stir.

Add the desired amount of apples and bananas to the mix.

Chill.

Just before serving sprinkle on a few chopped walnuts.

From this...

...to this in less than 15 minutes.

P.S. Don't forget...we'll be having a little giveaway on our 100th post. Be sure to stop back by. Just so you'll know today's post is #97.

Skate Date

Today we spent a few hours celebrating Weston Shane's 9th birthday at the local skating rink. Weston is my great-nephew.

I have not been skating in yeeaaarrrrs. My skateless streak remains unchanged after today. But, rewind 25 years, I did quite well whenever I strapped 8 wheels to my feet.

Megan and Jessie lead Ren around the floor. By the end of the party she was able to hold her own (self up).

During the two decades of my youth, the 70's and 80's, it seemed that every town with more than 1,000 people had a roller rink. And while our little town did not, we were surrounded by three other towns that did.

John helping John-Heath, who looked like a newborn colt...all legs and not sure what to do with them.

And almost everyone, at some point in their adolescent years, either attended a birthday party or held their own party at one of these fine establishments. A milestone of my very own life, my 13th birthday, was held at the Portland Skating Center. I think I still have the free t-shirt I received packed away somewhere.

Meg and Dylan (my other great-nephew) who was very focused and dedicated to learning to skate.

Then roller-skating fell out of fashion and many a skating rink was forced to close up shop, including the three closest to my town. And for years we were left without this form of entertainment (even if you didn't skate you could get a kick out of watching others fall). Luckily, a nice new rink opened up in our county seat just a couple years ago, and there has been a re-emergence in this family-friendly past time. And, thankfully, they even play some of the classics from the 80's rinks.

Ren and Megan with the birthday boy.

DO YOU REMEMBER...

A partial early/mid-80's roller rink play list

"You Dropped a Bomb On Me"

"Another One Bites the Dust"

"I Love Rock n Roll"

"Freak-a-zoid"

"Centerfold"

"We Are Family"

Any Journey song for Couples' Skate

And, no birthday party at the skate rink would be complete without "Limbo" or the "Hokey Pokey".

Every limbo boy and girl

All around the limbo world
Gonna do the limbo rock
All around the limbo clock.
Jack be limbo, Jack be quick
Jack go unda limbo stick.

All around the limbo clock
Hey, let's do the limbo rock

The Easter That Wasn't

I love Easter. It is among one of my favorite holidays. I am sure I did not like it so much when I was small though, as it meant a new Easter dress for church.

I HATED shopping for clothes anytime, but shopping for a new, itchy Easter dress was particularly loathsome. I do remember a time my mother, worn out from dealing with me over the issue, made my sister take me and we ended up in a fight in a JC Penney's dressing room in Bowling Green. I wish I could remember what dress I wore that year and whether or not it was worth all the turmoil.

One itchy, non-Easter dress I do remember was pale green with long sleeves when I was about 4. Oh, how I would cry when it came time to wear it. Luckily, Ren is not as bad as I am about trying on clothes. She can be quite the clothes-horse. She definitely gets this trait from her Aunt Sissy.

One of the great things about Easter has always been getting together for lunch with everyone from my father's side of the family. A Heath Easter always includes great food, games, and an egg hunt. This was to be my second year to host. And the weather was perfect. Unfortunately, the health of many was not. For the first time since we started getting together on Easter we had to cancel. This actually worked out well for me as I, too, ended up getting sick at church. My Easter was spent laying in bed running a fever while listening to my immediate family in my kitchen enjoying the food they had made for the lunch. No ham, dressed eggs, or broccoli casserole for me. I didn't even get to see my little boy participate in the egg hunt at church, except in a few pictures John took.

I'm already looking forward to next year to make up for the things I missed out on this year.

Shane

Remembering my nephew

Shane Harrison

Oct. 11, 1971 - Feb. 26, 1990

Some people come into our lives and quickly go.
Others stay for a while and leave footprints on our hearts and we are never the same.

Sophia A. Carter Heath

Can't sleep tonight. Random thoughts floating through my mind and it occurs to me that exactly 22 years ago on this very same night of the week and at nearly this same time I was spending the night at the home of my boyfriend's grandparents in Culleoka. I would marry said boyfriend that upcoming August but on this night I am sleeping in a rather large upstairs bedroom when I am awakened by a train whistle.

Granny and Papa's house was a short distance from the tracks so it wasn't such an oddity to hear a whistle - except that it was just after midnight and the train did not pass through at that hour.

I will find out at some point the next day that my grandmother, my father's mother, has passed on. Though her departure from this life and my awakening did not occur synchronously, I have always connected the two events.

Goodnight, Mammy Sophie.