“Anatomy of a Hurricane”–Hurricane Hermine Comes Here

October 10, 2016 by oldageisnotforsissies54 Filed Under: Family Life, This & That

Hurricane Hermine is threatening our shore line. Earlier today I turned on the TV, and the Weather Channel was in Tallahassee. Oh Crap! It is never a good thing when Jim Cantore shows up in your town.

August 31, 2016

By nightfall the storm begins coming ashore just east of Tallahassee between Monticello and Greenville, Florida, about 25 to 35 miles away to our east. Monticello is my hometown.

Hurricane Hermine Comes Ashore Near Tallahassee

Our power goes out around 10 pm. Hurricane Hermine has begun to do its damage.

It will be all over the next morning, and tomorrow will be a very busy day. I make sure that everyone in the house knows that we’re in a “no flush” zone. You only flush the toilets periodically–on an as needed basis. Jamie has to explain what this means to Patrick.

We have no idea how long the power will be off, and the water in the tubs are there to bucket water from the tubs to flush the toilets. If you just need to pee, don’t flush. Only flush when needed. The water has to last. Not only is the weather deteriorating, but our lifestyle is, too.

Bucketing Water for the Toilets

Also, everyone understands that we do not open the refrigerators for anything. They will maintain food longer if they are not opened.

Finally, we all go to bed.

Friday, September 1

I wake up around 2 a.m., and the wind roars outside. I hear things hitting the outside of the house; but thankfully no big crashes, yet.

Around 4 a.m. I check my iPad for the latest weather update. Hermine is moving northeast and away from the area; but I can tell by the radar that it passed closely to our east. Luckily, we are on the good side of the storm, the side with less wind. I try to go back to sleep.

Finally, it is daylight. Outside it’s raining heavily. The oaks are still thrashing about, and I squint to see how the yard looks. Within minutes, I can tell that the pool is green with fallen branches. It is full of debris, but the fence around the pool is intact.

Then I see a very large tree down between the oaks, on the path down to the lake. One of the big Longleaf pines fell. I pull on a robe and go downstairs out on to the back porch.

The entire back yard looks like a bomb hit it. Oh dear!

The front yard doesn’t look any better.

There is another big pine tree down east of our house. It fell between ours and the neighbor’s house. The kids are downstairs sound asleep.

Thankfully, all the portable cell chargers were charged and ready. Our iPads and cells will come in handy now. We’ll need to begin making phone calls, checking on others, and trying to get help.

Chuck and I throw something on and decide to take his car and investigate our neighborhood, but we quickly realize that we cannot go east. A large pine is laying across our street, which is a circle.

Tree Blocking Our Street

So we go west and have to go around another tree in the road that leaves us us just enough room to squeeze by. Up on Lakeshore, we realize that we cannot go west because of downed trees, nor can we take Sharer south; but we are able to get out to Meridian going east.

Street lights are inoperable all over the city, and we see numerous occurrences of people barreling through these intersections. We quickly realize that it has been a decade since the last storms in Florida and over two decades since Kate.

No one is immune from the destruction. This tree crashed behind the Governor’s Mansion.

There is an entire generation of drivers in town that have no idea that when the lights are out everywhere, every intersection becomes a four-way stop. The radios quickly begin trying to educate all of us before someone is killed.
Speaking of mortality, electric lines are down everywhere on sidewalks, in streets, across driveways. It is quite scary because people are outside walking around trying to assess their damages.

We also realize that this is beginning to look like the aftermath of Hurricane Kate. Everywhere we turn, streets are blocked by felled trees and downed powerlines. We now know that it will be days before our power is restored. Thankfully, Hurricane Hermine came ashore as just a Category 1 hurricane.

Another Street Blocked in Tallahassee

We use the radio to help us get down to the coast to check out the coast house. WFLA, 100.7 radio station with Preston Scott is taking calls from residents to let everyone know which streets are blocked and which aren’t. We use this to worm our way across town and south to the coast.

We learn that the Woodville Highway is closed, but not the Wakulla Springs Road down to the Bloxham Cutoff Rd. Wakulla Springs Rd. is closed from here, but we jog right on Bloxham and pick up Spring Creek Road all the way down to Shell Point and Live Oak Island Roads. All the while we fully expect for any one of them to be blocked and closed.

A Wakulla County deputy stops us to check that we are island residents. We are lucky and get all the way down to Live Oak Island.

As we drive across the causeway, we begin to see debris from the storm surge. Someone’s floating dock is on the side of the road. All the docks near the bridge are capsized and strewn about. You can tell that the island was inundated in areas. The storm surge did come across the island, but most houses are up off the ground.

Hurricane Hermine’s path came very close to the Coasthouse, which is on an island located here on this map just above the words ‘Apalachee Bay’.

Then we turn on to our road, and quickly realize that the it is strewn with many floating docks. We have trouble maneuvering and have to get out a couple of times to squeeze by debris until we find ours.

Floating Docks Displaced by Hurricane Hermine on Live Oak Island

More Floating Docks Displaced by Hurricane Hermine

Our floating dock is no longer in the bay behind our house. It is sitting in the road right in front of our neighbor’s house.

Our Dock Sitting in the Road at Live Oak Island

Inside the house, everything is thankfully high and dry. We are blessed. Outside, though, we realize that the kayak is missing, along with the ramp leading down to the floating dock, and a set of steps down from the sea wall to the Gulf.
Walking around, we find the kayak in a wad of flotsam near the other neighbor’s house along with the missing ramp.

Chuck and I begin trying to remove the debris so we can move the kayak.

Found the Kayak

Other neighbors come by in search of their missing items, and most of us find what we’re looking for in this pile. It is strange how a storm does this, affecting one house but not the next. Underneath our house, it is swept clean. Under our neighbor’s is everyone else’s debris.

Flotsam Left Behind by Hurricane Hermine

Finally, we finish what we can and drive back to Tallahassee. The kids called; and they are already trying to check on their home, which has several trees down on their well house and pump. They have Talquin Electric and already learn that it may be a week or more before their power is restored.

We return to the house in Tallahassee and begin the cleanup there. Our son-in-law is our hero. He picked up almost all the debris in our yard stacking it for our next really big bonfire. We usually have at least one during the winter holidays.
We realize that we’ve seen no power trucks yet in our neighborhood–not a good sign. We learn through the radio that the City of Tallahassee Electric has to restore the infrastructure first, which was also damaged by the storm.

We saw the trucks and tree trimming crews working out on the main roads. It will be some time before they get to little neighborhoods like ours.

The day goes quickly; but it hasn’t been all bad. When the storm pushed through so did the little front. Behind it is cooler and dryer air, which is unusual. Usually it is hot and humid behind these storms. So the cleanup this time is less painful.

By late afternoon, though, it begins to change. It begins to get humid; and we have no power, no air conditioning, no running water. We live on well water, which requires electricity to run. We tip toe through the house with flashlights and a kerosene lamp that hazily lights the kitchen.

Around 9 pm a bat flies into the house, sending everyone ducking and dodging in the dark to escape the little varmint. The bat finally finds an open door and flies back out after circling the house for about ten minutes.

My son in law Patrick who is an Air Force brat born in England and raised all over the world is getting his Ph.D. in becoming a true Floridian in one big hellacious weekend. He leads the effort to get rid of the bat.

Exhausted, we try to get some rest; but it is a little uncomfortable, nothing like the next night will be, though.

Saturday, September 2

All day Saturday we are cleaning up and setting all the lawn furniture back out. It is hard to get through the living room because it is full of pots, plants, and lawn furniture. Outside Chuck continues pulling leaves and limbs out of the pool.

We know it will be days before we get electricity. I’m already tired of bucketing water to flush toilets, sweating, and eating cold food. I wrench my shoulder and it hurts. We also worry about the food in the freezers, which we haven’t opened yet.

So Jamie and I begin to look for a generator to replace the one we had that won’t start. We call several stores, but they don’t answer their phones. Later, we learn that no one has regular phone service.

The stores who have no power are either running on generators or remain closed. Fortunately for us Florida’s hardware stores, grocery stores, and banks are almost all powered by generators during the aftermath of these storms.

At Home Depot there is a short line for 70 generators coming in around 5 pm on a truck. I count the number of people in line and think I have a shot at getting one, so I jump in the line and send Jamie and Thomas to Lowes to see if they can find one there.

Waiting on Generators

She in turn gets in another line, but the line at Lowes requires a ticket. There are 96 generators and she gets ticket 96. Her success is more certain, but what if someone miscounted and there are only 95 generators on the truck. So she stays in that line with instructions to call if she gets one first, which she did.

By the way Jamie almost witnessed a fight. A man from a country, where obviously only the strongest survive, jumped ahead several people and snatched a ticket from someone in the line, who was less able to defend themselves. She said that the man almost got a ass whippin from some of the good old southern boys nearby, before he (the one who snatched the ticket) apologized and returned it.

With a new generator in tow, we get home and realize that this one is big enough to carry almost all of the appliances in the house, except the HVAC systems. We run big outdoor extension cords everywhere, first to the refrigerator/freezers. I check the food in the freezers and everything is still ok. Earlier we had begun bringing in ice for things in the refrigerators.

We placed the Generator a Safe Distance Outside of the House

Wire Running Everywhere Throughout the House

Too bad that we didn’t have a small air conditioner, though. It is still humid and hot at night. It would be worse, though, without the big ceiling fan over our bed and two old house fans that I’ve had since I lived in Monticello over 27 years ago.

We’re already talking to a tree service company to remove the two downed trees. Many people have trees on their homes or across their driveways, while ours are not as big a problem. They ask us to wait for a later time, and we agree to do so.
Saturday night, we are hot; but we have TV and lights. Life is much better.

Sunday, September 2

We begin to find pockets of the city open for business. We have lunch at Vertigo’s, which is packed. Everyone else had the same idea.

The house is strewn with electrical cords leading to the refrigerators, fans, and lamps all over the house. Can you say fire hazard? We call our electrician, and he hooks the entire house to the generator, except for the two HVAC systems. Then we spend the next hour trying to figure out why the breaker keeps flipping off. It turns out that there is some type of short in the water pump. So we turn everything else off when we need to use the water pump.

We spend a second afternoon finishing packing. Did I tell you that Chuck and I leave tomorrow for China? For two days before, I packed early in the morning for the best light, otherwise I’m packing for a seventeen day trip in the dark. One has to laugh to keep from going crazy.

Later, we notice that there are Gulf Power Co. bucket trucks and linesmen working up on Lakeshore. They are from west Florida and helping us in Tallahassee to get our power back. It is a relief to see them finally in our neighborhood.

Our Heroes – The Power Company Employees

It’s like the cavalry came. That is how we see our heroes–the linesmen. I honk and wave, give them a thumbs up, and scream “Thank You” from my car window. The lady driving back of me did the same thing. They’re working in our neighborhood, but not on our street yet.

Sunday night is the hottest night yet. Still no power. We see their lights up on Lakeshore. We heard that the men work 16-hour shifts. We both have trouble sleeping.

Monday, September 5
Monday comes, and we still have no power. We finally packed for China, and we leave. Final packing done; but much of it without lights, so I have no idea how prepared we are for China.

The floors in the house are littered with trash, leaves and mud, tracked in from the outside. Unfortunately, we leave everything in a mess and our daughter in charge. Jamie is our angel.

About half way to the airport, our daughter calls and the power is on. Thank the Lord and Gulf Power.

This Gulf Power Lineman made my Grandson’s day!

We found out later that this picture of Thomas made the Gulf Power Newsletter. Two of Thomas’s great grandfathers were Florida Power Corporation employees. Geechie and Cliff would love this!

The house smells with the heat, humidity, two dogs, one crochety old cat, four adults, one five year old, and lots of smelly laundry. It needs the dehumidification that only a central air conditioning unit can provide.

Return From China
Seventeen days later we return from China. Tallahassee has power. Most everyone gets their power back within 10 days, but there are piles of yard debris everywhere still waiting for final cleanup. Many of the piles create a wall of debris next to the roads. People swerve to miss them.

The two trees are still down in our yard in Tallahassee, but our neighbor at the coast got our floating dock back in the water. It is anchored so it won’t float off. There is no ramp to it, though. It is just an island. Jamie and Patrick got their power back 8 days after the storm.

And on Monday, October 3rd, we had the decks and porches pressure washed to remove all the debris stains. We finally get back to normal just as we begin to watch Hurricane Matthew cross Haiti and threaten the other side of Florida. Monday, several computer models showed it coming into the Gulf.

And so we began the cycle again; but thankfully, this Hurricane Matthew went elsewhere.

Anatomy of a Hurricane

October 3, 2016 by oldageisnotforsissies54 Filed Under: Family Life, This & That

There is another monster brewing in the Caribbean. We here on the west coast of Florida have it in our minds, though we aren’t paying it much attention;but you can bet that the southeast coastal residents of Florida are starting to watch it closer.

We here in North Florida just lived through another hurricane back in September, and I thought I would share a little about how we watch, prepare, and then ride out a hurricane. Hurricane Hermine came ashore the first week in September, but we had been watching it closely for almost a week before it hit.

We Floridians have all kinds of jokes about these storms. I guess because we seem to be ground zero from time to time. We watch as these little “disturbances” come off the West African coast.

It seems like every time Chuck and I go out west, we say, “here they come.” We spent several vacations anxiously watching storms approach Florida. A few years ago, we had to fly back to get ready for one that went west at the last possible moment. Sometimes the storms que up 3 or 4 at a time–marching in a single file across the Atlantic.

The one circled in yellow behind Invest 98 is Hermine later called Invest 99.

We just keep these disturbances in mind, though. They rarely amount to anything for us, because they have so far to go; and even if they do form into something they have so many other places to go. There’s Mexico or Louisiana or maybe it will turn a hard right and move on up to North Carolina. Unfortunately, someone else’s loss is our gain but it works both ways.

So Hermine was kind of out of sight and out of mind until she started going through the straights of Florida between Florida and Cuba. That’s when we took notice and really started paying attention. We began checking our supply of batteries, jugged water, and making a plan just in case.

We started paying attention to the computer models. At first it was half and half. Some had it coming our way and some had it going west. I remember thinking, “Go West Young Woman!”

They forecasted that there was a front pushing across the US and across the gulf from the west to east. That meant the options were declining in number. A front meant it wouldn’t go west so Texas and Louisiana were off the hook, and the storm was already in the gulf so the east coast of our country was off the table, too.

But if it pushes fast enough maybe it will turn it quicker and cause it to go to Tampa or Ft. Myers. What we know though is that the Gulf water is hot right now and without shearing winds this thing could get ugly.

We start checking on the storm more often. Some of us have apps on our cells. A few of the more popular are the NOAA Radio app and Hurricane Tracker. We have been getting alerts on our cells, but now they are coming more often.

The beginning story on this storm is that it may not reach hurricane strength. It may barely become a tropical storm. With information like that we get complacent.

The conversation everywhere in town is about hurricanes, especially those of the past. All the famous storms become first on our minds. We talk hurricanes and experiences at the hair salon, at meetings, even at church.

Hurricane Kate is always a topic. This one brought Tallahassee to its knees and was very late, after Thanksgiving. Chuck was without power for over two weeks. Kate happened before we were married. She was Tallahassee’s last major hit and was over 25 years ago, but people talk about it like it happened last year.

My Mama who was raised in South Florida liked to talk about Donna and Betsy and other famous Florida storms, and we all talk about Andrew and Camille with reverence. But Tallahassee is seldom hit.

Which brings me to another joke. Hardly any storms make it here because we are in the bend where florida curves down from the panhandle to the peninsular. It is called the Big Bend, but we like to say that we are the armpit of Florida and no storms come here. Well, except for Kate.

By the way hurricanes of the past half a century have names, but the ones before then are known by their year. When I was growing up old timers talked about the Hurricanes of 1928 and 1935 with reverence. Over 2,500 Floridians lost their lives in the 1928 hurricane. I had an aunt that lived near Lake Okeechobee, and she had an unnatural fear of all manner of storms for the rest of her life.

So while we discussed hurricanes of days long past, Hermine kept churning away and creeping north about 14 miles per hour. We’re beginning to realize that it might be coming here after all. All the computer models agreed.

Chuck and I rode down to the coast. We have a coast house on a little island just below Tallahassee. Hurricane Dennis was the last hurricane that caused us problems down there. He ripped the plumbing out from underneath the house which sits five feet off the ground. He also took Chuck’s flats boat for a ride over to the next island. We found it the day after the storm.

We moved everything inside, even the little lawnmower. We left out the kayak but filled it with water and tied it to one of the stilts–a mistake. But it was full of spiders, and I just didn’t want it in the house.

Wind at the coast is not the biggest problem. The storm surge is. A bad surge can be destructive and even deadly. Because we are in the Big Bend, water banks up here with no place to go.

Storm surge area of impact.

People were already pulling their boats out of the water and trailering them inland. The road to the island is littered with all manner of vehicles parked on higher ground.

Back in Tallahassee we decided that we didn’t need to move the outdoor furniture, but as the storm got closer it got stronger. Finally, it was no longer a tropical storm but Category 1 Hurricane Hermine. It was time to get more serious.

My daughter and I went back down to the coast to remove some priceless items from the Coasthouse. Dad had a pecky cypress ship’s wheel that hangs on the wall down there. I grabbed it along with other items that we would hate to lose. We were already getting outer bands and we got soaking wet.

Back at home Chuck was beginning to put up anything that could be a projectile, including everything on and around my potting bench. You have no idea how much yard junk you have until you have to put it all away for a storm.

We’re concerned now that it could intensify before coming ashore. Kate was a category 1, but when she came ashore she intensified and became a category 3 during the last hours. Jamie and I were glad to see that no one else had begun boarding their windows. There are several commercial fishermen families that live on the island, and we follow their lead. They have more experience at this than anyone.

Back at the house in Tallahassee we joined Chuck in removing possible projectiles. Several pieces of lawn furniture are submerged in the pool. It keeps them safe, and they get a good cleaning in the process. The chlorine bleaches out the white pieces.

We filled all the bathtubs with water and pulled out all the flash lights and the generator. We made a mistake, though. We tried to start the generator, but it won’t start. Too late to do anything about it now.

Our daughter and her family who lives closer to the coast and near flooding decides to come stay with us to ride out the storm.

Next week, I’ll share what happened when the storm hit. Hurricane Hermine will be one of those “remembered” storms for our family.

Our Family’s Bird Dog: The Phenomena of Ike

July 10, 2016 by oldageisnotforsissies54 Filed Under: Family Life, This & That

I’m 62 years old, but I remember our bird dog Ike like it was yesterday. Yet Ike died in 1968 two days after my Grandfather died. The neighbors next door to my grandparents said that the night Granddaddy died Ike howled all night long. Then the day we buried Granddaddy, we found Ike’s body under Granddaddy’s bedroom window.

All these years since, I thought that Ike was Granddaddy’s dog; that is until I was talking to my Uncle a few weeks ago. I found out that Ike belonged to Uncle Ferrell.

I began to ask a lot of question cause Ike was no ordinary dog. He was practically a legend around our hometown. His hunting skills were sought after.

Ike was an English Pointer. He was not a house dog. He lived outside in my grandparent’s yard. There was no way my Grandmother would allow that dog or any other dog to come in her house.

I remember him as being gentle, kind, playful, and affectionate, especially toward us kids. He was about a foot and a half tall at his shoulders and was white with brown markings.

Wikipedia, An Example of an English Pointer

As I got older I realized what a great sporting dog he had been. The stories about his intelligence and drive became legendary, especially in my family.
My Uncle got Ike as a puppy about 1960. Mr. Jim Smith, manager of Jumpie Run Plantation and my Uncle’s future father in law, was handling dogs for a guest when the man asked Mr. Smith to please get rid of one of his dogs, a female pointer.

Mr. Jim noticed that the dog had a good nose and could honor and point; but unfortunately she also liked to chase trash, which in this case would be unwanted animals like deer and raccoons. Such a trait would be especially frowned upon in this type of breed.

So Mr. Jim had the dog removed from the hunt that day and later after the man had left noticed that she was already bred. Out of a sizable litter, two puppies were chosen and given, one to Uncle Ferrell and another to a friend named Randall Thompson. Uncle Ferrell got the male puppy which he named Ike, and Randall named his female puppy Mamie. Ferrell was about 22 at the time.

Mr. Jim with Mamie on the left and Granddaddy with Ike on the right. The rest of the litter is behind them in the pen.

Both boys raised and trained their dogs to hunt. Of course, it didn’t hurt that Mr. Jim was around to help. And my Grandfather Hamrick was no slouch at bird hunting either.

“Hold”, “careful”, and “easy” were some of the words Uncle Ferrell used when training Ike. He found Ike easily trainable and always eager to please.

Florida Memory Collection Photo of Men and their Pointers

Ferrell and Ike became partners in a partnership that was mutually beneficial. With Ferrell’s training, Ike turned into not just a good bird dog, but the kind that folks talked about for a long, long time. Ike could run, hunt and point like no other.

By 1962, my Uncle married Mr. Jim’s daughter Sandra. He also worked his way through college; and while he went to school at FSU, he left Ike in Monticello with his parents. This is why I thought Ike belonged to Granddaddy. Aunt Sandra grew up on Jumpie Run, which is now for sale. You can see a video about it below.

I can still see athletic Ike streaking around the outside of my grandparent’s house like lightning. He loved to run, but most of all he loved to hunt. And he seemed to live just to go hunting. He will long be remembered for his skill, artistry, and passion for the sport.

My Great Uncle BG was there one day on the Jumpie Run when Ike pointed some quail. A couple flushed and Ferrell killed one which Ike retrieved. On his way back with the bird still in his mouth, Ike stopped again at a dead point. Uncle BG said, “He just smells the one in his mouth.” But Ferrell knew better.

He replied, “No, that’s another quail and you better get ready to shoot.” Sure enough, another covey flushed. Ike brought them the bird in his mouth, and then returned for the second bird. Ike could point even while retrieving.

Florida Memory Collection – Retrieving a Bird

Another time Ike pointed, and there in a thicket were two rattlesnakes wrapped up and breeding. Ike never moved from his point, while Uncle Ferrell came forward to investigate. Upon spotting the snakes, he held Ike by the collar until he could shoot them.

Ike would load in a truck, a trunk, or the backseat of a car. It made no difference to him as long as he got to go hunting.
I sincerely believe that Ike had an innate ability to read body language and to respond to subtle cues. It was evidenced by anytime Granddaddy or Uncle Ferrell tried to sneak out of the house with a shotgun. It was like trying to slip sunrise past a rooster.

There are numerous stories about Ike and cars. Ike was loaned out to hunt to various friends and neighbors, some of whom only had cars to hunt in. Ike would either ride in the seats or in the trunk.

One day the neighbor’s guest next door called Granddady to please come get Ike. It seems they opened their car doors to leave, and Ike jumped in for the ride. Ike just thought he was going hunting.

Another time Ike had been hunting with someone who transported him in their trunk. So when Grandma got home with a trunk full of groceries the next day, Ike jumped right into the trunk as soon as she opened it.

Poor old Ike, I cannot imagine what happened next. All of us kids knew that you didn’t mess with Grandma Annis. She had a fearsome temper.

Another day in a field Ike pointed a quail and then started to creep forward. Ferrell tried to see what was in the bushes but from where he stood it just looked like a big shadow. All of a sudden a big turkey gobbler bounced out. Ferrell killed him on the wing. If you haven’t guessed by now, my Uncle was well known for his wing shooting.

Florida Memory Collection

Paul Crisp, Edith Pope’s husband, and Ferrell went hunting one time and parked next to this big field. Ike jumped out and galloped first down the road and back and then he jumped the fence just past the car. He immediately pointed in his usual high style. His nose was amazing, but these quail got up before they could cross the fence.

Another day, a possum ran across their trail and tried to escape up a tree. I guess he wasn’t fast enough, though; because Ike jumped high up the trunk and dragged him down. He was a most athletic bird dog, too.

One time on the Simpson’s property, they were hunting near a grassy pond. Ike pointed an upland bird which Uncle Ferrell took aim and shot. Unfortunately, the bird fell and landed on a grassy tuft in the pond.

Ferrell said that Ike looked back at him and then back at the bird as if he were thinking for a second. Then, he jumped right in and retrieved the bird. Ike was a good retriever, too.

Hunting at the edge of a field one time, Ike pointed within a few feet of Ferrell. He eased up to a grape vine where a quail silently waited. I guess he waited too long, because Ike jumped into the vines and caught the quail before it even flushed.
Ike got shot in the butt one time. A friend did it, and Ike ran away. They tried to find him but to no avail. Finally, they left and Uncle Ferrell returned alone. Ike came up to him shaking and scared. Uncle Ferrell opened the car, and he jumped right in.

Uncle Ferrell remembered a particularly windy day, when Ike kept his nose up running all the way across this field. Just at the edge of the woods on the other side he stopped and pointed. Three dogs worked the field that day but only Ike found the birds.

One day at home Uncle Ferrell and Granddaddy were in the yard when Ike found a cat and her kittens. Usually, Ike had no problem and was gentle with cats, but this cat didn’t know it. The cat and her kittens quickly climbed telephone/antenna pole to get away, but I guess Ike still got too close because that cat sailed off that pole and latched herself on to Ike’s back side toward his butt.

There was an outcry of howling, whimpering, and snarling as Ike ran under the house and out the other side. My grandparent’s house set up off the ground but not high enough that Ike was able to peel off the offending cat. Ike made several circles back under the house before the cat finally let go. Uncle Ferrell and Granddaddy laughed and laughed.

So Ike was more than just a hunting dog. He was loyal, and he minded well. He wouldn’t jump up on you. Normally, he would just sit or lie down. He would sit when told. And he was especially good with all us kids.

Ike is next to Little Lester, my cousin. My sister Pam is standing, and I’m sitting by Lester & Ike. It is Easter.

Back then, it was simpler times. You could hunt just about anywhere. No one cared as long as you respected them and their property. There were no problems with lawyers, insurance companies, and liability at least where I was raised. And just about everybody I knew hunted back then.

I miss those times and can’t believe it has been almost 50 years since Ike died. What a great bird dog!

A Pointer

Independence Day in Old Florida

July 2, 2016 by oldageisnotforsissies54 Filed Under: Genealogy, Palmetto Pioneers, This & That

What do you think Independence Day celebrations were like for those who actually fought in the Revolutionary War? Or for the signers themselves? What was the 4th of July like ten or twenty or fifty years after the signing when some of these men were still living?

Today, we meet as communities or families to celebrate our nation’s birthday. The holiday, though, is actually the day the initial signatures were placed on the Declaration of Independence.

But how did our ancestors celebrate this day? And what happened when the north was fighting the south during the Civil War? Did we quit celebrating down here in the south during those War years?

I’ve been researching the time period in North Florida between 1827 and 1871 for my book “Palmetto Pioneers.” It was a time when Florida was a territory until 1845, when the Seminole Wars raged until the late 1850s, and when Florida seceded from the nation to join the Confederacy in the early 1860s. We call these eras Territorial Florida, Antebellum Florida, and War & Reconstruction Florida.

Remember, though, that 1827 was only about 50 years after the Revolutionary War. To Floridians in 1827 the American Revolution would have been remembered much like some of us today remember the assassination of President Kennedy or the Vietnam War, both of which happened only 50 years ago.

So the 4th of July celebration to these Floridians would have been valuable indeed. There would have been veterans of that war living in their communities and maybe even within their families.
In some of their home states, there would still have been scars from the battles which were fought in these areas. Mary’s family came from near Kings Mountain and the Cowpens, both well remembered Revolutionary Battles.

So just how did they celebrate the 4th of July over 150 years ago? I found several pieces of research to give us an idea–most of which were newspaper articles, but one of which was an actual program used in 1851.

My main character Mary Adeline Walker came to Monticello, Florida about 1828, and the first recorded Independence Day Celebration there was one year later in 1829.
Jefferson County and Monticello were named after President Thomas Jefferson and his home respectively. The county itself had just been formed in 1827 from Leon County just one year after President Jefferson died.

The newly formed county originally stretched from its original western boundary near its current western boundary just east of Tallahassee all the way east to the Suwannee River.
Of course, every school child knows that Thomas Jefferson wrote the Declaration of Independence, but did you know that Thomas Jefferson died on July 4th in 1826, the very day we celebrate his actions for signing the Declaration of Independence. It was an amazing coincidence.

Original first draft of the Declaration of Independence

There is also something else very interesting about Monticello and the 4th of July. There were people living around Monticello who were kin to Thomas Jefferson. Thomas Jefferson’s mother’s maiden name was Randolph and his grandson Francis Eppes moved to Florida along with the Randolphs establishing a plantation about 12 miles northeast of Monticello called L’Eau Noir (Black Water).

Chart Showing Who was Buried in the Jefferson Graveyard at Monticello in Virginia

I’m very familiar with this beautiful land where the Black Water Creek flows east of Tallahassee. It crosses US 90 between Tallahassee and Monticello west of Balm. I’ve hunted turkey near and along the banks of that creek both immediately north and far south of that crossing.

This is the land where I cut my teeth–calling birds for the first time. I could shoot turkeys all day with a guide, but the real challenge was to call in a bird all by myself. This is where I got the most practice. I bumped birds all over this land and got to know it intimately. Some of my best turkey hunting stories took place on this property. At the time I had no idea that this land once belonged to Thomas Jefferson’s grandson.

So a lot had happened to little Monticello in the three short years after Jefferson County was formed; and Monticello became the place to observe Independence Day as early as 1829. People from all over Middle Florida came there to celebrate. The little town was not much more than a crossroad then, only a village. But Independence Day in America at that time was a very important event.

Normally, the people gathered in the center of the village for Independence Day. A parade was staged to begin at the edge of town and to end at the appointed place at the appointed time, which was noon. So at the center of Monticello and beginning at noon and after the prayer, the Declaration of Independence was read. In every 4th of July celebration, I noticed that this was the highlight–the reading of the Declaration.

Afterwards, a chosen orator spoke. He (yes, it was always a man) talked about the Revolutionary War itself or the people who fought or the founders or any other topic related to our nation’s independence. Afterwards, there were numerous toasts, most of which were followed by liberal quantities of spirits. Most of the toasts and speeches were directed at the nation’s birthday.

We know that in 1829 in the center of the town Rev. William Mathers opened the ceremony at noon with a prayer. The Declaration was read and Philip Willie delivered a rousing address tracing the history of the US from Columbus’ voyage down to an “animated picture of the present”.

A sumptuous dinner was served, after which Dr. Thomas White and James Parish began the toasts. White praised the “venerable sage of Monticello” after whom the county was named. Parish toasted Joseph White (Florida’s representative to Congress) as “in every respect white, clear white.” Other toasts were delivered to Florida “the youngest child of this great family of States”. They also toasted several of the founding fathers and prominent men of the day.

After 1829 people began coming from all over the territory to celebrate the nation’s birthday in Monticello. Year after year they came. It was a tradition. Although it began in the center of town, years later it was moved to a nearby park. A crowd gathered wherever it was held.

By 1832, the day began with the firing of a cannon and small arms at noon in the center of town. I wonder what happened to that cannon. I grew up in Monticello, and I can’t remember there ever being a cannon fired in town except for when the local team took the field down at the football stadium on Friday nights in the 1980s. That one was bought while Kelly Kilpatrick was the principal.
Then a procession formed in front of Martin Palmer’s tavern and moved to a stand prepared for the occasion in the center of town. We know from research that there still was no courthouse, and that court was held in this tavern when needed. I wonder if that raised platform set where the courthouse sits today? I also wonder if the toasts had gotten out of hand so they moved it indoors away from the women and children.

After Rev. Mather’s prayer, the Declaration of Independence was read and then George Warner spoke about the oppressed colonies in the days just before the revolution. It is believed that the women and children were there for this part of the celebration, but not for what followed as discussed earlier.

After the oration the men moved on to Palmer’s Tavern where Thomas Randolph and William Bailey presided over a dinner. It was recorded that 13 toasts were drunk. The one receiving the most attention was to “The Tariff may it be immediately adjusted to the satisfaction of all”. Darius Williams toasted “public school, the best guarantee of social progress.”

And Giles Easter toasted, “May we act with reason while the bottle is circulating.” That was probably the toast right around the sixth round, and obviously they paid it no heed.

There is mention years later that maybe the toasts were getting out of hand. I imagine the women added their own thoughts to this. So later they decided that there should be a committee for toasting.

The earlier orations stayed to the revolution itself or to the freedom that all Americans cherished; but later, the speeches began to more accurately reflect the issues of the day.

By 1838 there was concern about statehood and at 11 a.m. a large Independence Day procession of inhabitants and visitors from adjoining counties formed at the courthouse under the direction of Minor Walker, marshall of the day. It moved to a grove of oaks near a spring outside of town where a preacher opened the ceremonies with a prayer. The Declaration was read and an oration delivered. A barbecue dinner followed, again followed by the toasts.

4th of July Celebration in Orlando in the 1880s. Florida Memory Collection

By 1839, they decide to form a committee for toasts to try to keep the number of libations within bounds. It must have helped though because by 1841 the Tallahassee Star of Florida reported that at the Independence Day festivities in Monticello 50 men drank four toasts each.

At the 1839 celebration they held an old fashioned Virginia barbecue which was planned by Smith Simkins, Zachariah Bailey, W. C. Smith, John Cuthbert, William Ware, John Tucker and J. R. Rowles. The committee on toasts was comprised of R. B. Houghton, B. C. Pope, B. Waller Taylor, W. H. Smith and William Wirt, Jr.

The orator and reader were selected by R. W. Tone, Andrew Denham, John Palmer, Ware and Cuthbert. Houghton delivered the oration and Abram Bellamy read the declaration. The Tallahassee press again carried this news.

These Monticello celebrations continued until the Civil War, but the town was not the only city in Florida to hold such August celebrations. While researching I ran across an actual program for the 4th of July Celebration held in Madison, just east of Monticello.

I often wondered if the south continued to celebrate Independence Day during the Civil War, and I ran across an editorial in the “Family Friend”, Monticello’s weekly newspaper, dated in 1861. It said that Florida’s legislature did propose in 1861 to strike out the 4th of July from the days which public offices should close, but the proposal was ultimately rejected.

The newspaper’s publisher went on to say that Independence Day should be held in perpetual remembrance. He pointed out that the south holds claim to the author of the document just as much as the north.

He added that our declaration sets forth that when a government becomes subversive, as had the north, then it was the right and the duty of the people to throw off such a government. He said that the south had done just that. And that as a body of people the south should cherish the declaration and continue to celebrate it.

He added that these principles which gave birth to our former union can never be destroyed until we all are slaves or are left to submit to tyranny and oppression.

So I guess that is what I carried away from all this is the realization that it is the Declaration itself that we should celebrate. Our ancestors understood that.

Happy Independence Day–no matter where you are or how you celebrate it!

How to Make Yourself Look Younger

June 21, 2016 by oldageisnotforsissies54 Filed Under: It's Not For Sissies, This & That

Everyone wants to look younger or better or maybe even just more rested. Don’t you just hate it when you see yourself in a photo, and you just feel like you look terrible. Instead of a smiling happy face, all you can see are the lines, splotches, and sagging skin.

But there is another reason that I decided to write this post. My high school is getting ready to have a mass class reunion of all grades between about 1950 and 2000.

As many of you know, I post a lot of photos of myself on this site, on the Old Age Is Not… social media sites, and on my personal social media sites, too. These photos are of me mostly wearing Stitch Fix clothing, so I want to look my best. That is to say, I doctor my looks and my photos. Chuck says that what I really do is commit fraud–the fraud he says is trying to look younger. Well, duh!

So I figure I had better come clean and let my classmates know my little secret. Otherwise, we will all show up for the reunion; and they will wonder if I have been under the weather lately. As in “Gosh Cindy, what happened to your face?”

So here are some ways to make yourself look better or look younger. The following tips are how I make myself look better for the photos, especially for Stitch Fix.

1. If you are taking a photo, lighting is key. Overhead lighting is your enemy, especially if you are my age. Overhead lighting accentuates your wrinkles, under eye bags, red splotches, and anything else wrong at the moment with your face. You can forget being able to look younger, if the lighting is coming from above.

The best place for me to take my selfie photos is in my bedroom, where there is an entire wall of floor to ceiling. This is where I take my Stitch Fix photos using a full standing mirror. What you see in my photos is actually a mirror image.

A large oak tree to one side of this bank of windows diffuses the light just enough. Also, this is a north facing window so I never get direct sunlight into this room. It is always bright, indirect sunlight.

So if the lighting is overhead, run for cover for your photos. Be careful with dappled shade, though. It can cause the same bad effects. Best case scenario is earlier in the day or later in the afternoon when the sunlight is coming in from the side.

2. Don’t hold the camera too close to your face. Your nose and anything else closer to the lens will appear larger. I put this tip in so you can see that anything that you want to minimize should be farther away from the camera. Maybe you don’t like your arms. Maybe your bust line bothers you. Use clothing and camera angles to accentuate or minimize. Your choice.

This Photo was Rejected Because my Hand Looked too Large

I learned this when I worked for the state game and fish commission and for an angler’s association. If you want the fish to look bigger in your photo, hold it closer to the camera in front of your body. The closer you push the fish to the camera, the bigger it looks.

3. Tanned skin makes you look thinner. White pasty skin is not flattering in photos. Everyone likes the porcelain look but not too many of us can pull it off. My sister Linda being one of the exceptions.

So get a sunless tanner and learn how to use it. I wear one everyday–having to reapply it every 5-7 days. Not everyone will want to do that, so just remember to wear it for special occasions when people will be taking photos, such as weddings, birthday parties, family gatherings of any kind, or class reunions.

Use it on your face, décolletage, neck, arms, shoulders, legs and anything else that the camera can see. You’ll be glad you did. It will make you and your skin look younger.

4. If you are older like me, apply a good makeup base with a neutral eye shadow over the lower lid and into the crease, eye liner over the top eyelid (especially if you are older like me), mascara (can be top and bottom), blush in all the right places, and a good lipstick with color but not too much. I’ll explain below.

A good makeup base removes the splotches. I wear one everyday, because that is what my Mom did. I was just raised that way. Turns out that it really helps when I’m photographed. It will make you look younger without the splotches and discoloration.

As we age, we should drop the colored eye shadows. They don’t look that good in photos anyway. Leave all of these for the young women. Also, putting shadow over the crease up to the eyebrow accentuates the wrong area of the eye and causes a shine where it isn’t as flattering anymore.

Mascara and lipstick are my necessities in life. My grandmother taught me that a lady wasn’t dressed until she put on her earrings and her lipstick. I never leave home without them. As I’ve aged my eyes tend to no longer stand out. Mascara is a must.

The other necessity in life is a smile. I try to wear one everyday.

Speaking of a smile, I just found out from my Yoga instructor that a smile relaxes your face and in turn every muscle in your body. So for all us stressed out ladies, the secret is to smile even when we don’t feel like it.

With the blush you’ve chosen, apply it to contour and create apples on your cheeks. We older ladies need those apples. Most contouring diagrams, though, are for younger people; and they leave this out as you can see below. In fact I’m wondering if this ultra thin model would have had enough facial definition to have apples on her cheeks anyway.

Once you’ve placed blush where they suggest contouring (contouring is the darker shading), go back and place some blush on the apples of your cheeks. Blend and remember that practice makes perfect.

5. Wear something that fits but does not tug or cling. You don’t want any rolls showing around your middle. Remember Maude on TV, played by Bea Arthur? She was known for her tunic and vest wardrobe which she also wore on the tv series “Golden Girls”.

Maude Played by Bea Arthur

Notice how it floated away from her body. The layering and draping worked. She found something very flattering for her, and the designers just stayed with it. She became a fashion icon to many older women. On the “Golden Girls” you will notice that all of the characters mostly wear clothes that pull away from their bodies.

But Bea Arthur did it best and became a fashion icon because of it. When asked about her clothes, she would simply say that she just liked to be comfortable.

Hide that which you are embarrassed about. My knees are getting bony so I try to stay away from shorts and dresses above my knees. I also have a spider vein problem up on my right thigh. I do wear tunics, but I’ve found that the secret is wearing blouses that pull away from my middle. You can hide a multitude of sins under there–rolls, lumps, a pooching stomach. Chuck says that this is fraud again. I just tell him that it is simply female “camo”.

6. Which brings me to my final tip. It is called Facetune.

As I said before, my husband accuses me of fraud all the time. He is really talking about the clothes and makeup that I use to camouflage all my shortcomings. But Facetune is my biggest fraud.
It is a photo editing app that I use to retouch my photos. It smooths out crows feet and other wrinkles. It does the same thing for splotches and liver spots. I’ve even removed wrinkles from clothes with it. Just because it is called Facetune doesn’t mean it can only be used on the face.

Here’s a video below that shows how the “smoothing” feature works.

Also, here is another example–two photos of myself. One before Facetune and one after. I think you get the picture.

Before and After Facetune

So now you know how I commit fraud, and why I thought it important to come clean before the class reunion.

These steps can make anyone look younger, rested and happier. So it is ok to smile in your photos. Facetune can fix the lines and wrinkles for any picture you have.

Oh, and now you know why my husband says that I commit fraud everyday!

I look forward to seeing some of you at the class reunion! Too bad that I won’t look younger.

Too bad that Facetune doesn’t come in a bottle!

Memorial Day: A Forgotten Hero

May 28, 2016 by oldageisnotforsissies54 Filed Under: Books, This & That

Did you know that Memorial Day was originally called Decoration Day? In the old days, it was the day when people decorated the graves of those who died in service for our country. Those graves were decorated with flowers, wreaths, and flags. Today we call it Memorial Day to remember those who lost their lives fighting for our freedom.

Florida Memory Collection

There is a grave in my hometown. All of us kids raised there heard “his” story. He grew up there just like we did. He went to the same school. He played football and ran track and played ball on the high school mound. He lettered in numerous sports.

His classmates, though, said that he was a class star. My Uncle told me the other day that he could out debate the teachers. He said, “We thought he was smarter than the teachers.” He went on to be the Monticello High School Class of 1941 President and Captain of the football team.

He was a natural leader. He wouldn’t prove it, though, until on a remote Pacific Island seven hundred miles off the coast of Japan.

Today, only a few people who personally knew our hometown hero are still living. If he were still alive, he would be 92; but when he was young and running the streets of Monticello, he had blond curly hair and blue eyes. His name was Ernest Ivy Thomas, Jr. His friends called him “Boots”.

Boots is the child to the far left.

By the time Pearl Harbor happened, he had graduated from high school and was studying aeronautical engineering at a small Midwestern college. My Uncle James Roe was also away at Jones Business College in Jacksonville, but he was close enough to come back home for weekend visits. Home was Monticello, Florida, 26 miles northeast of Tallahassee. Below is a picture of Boots in college.

Boots Thomas

In December my Uncle was home visiting his family. Uncle James said that he went downtown that Sunday before returning to school and stopped at a service station on the southwest corner of Waukeenah and Washington Streets. There was a group of men listening to a radio, and they told him that the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. None of them knew where that was. In that moment, Monticello, if not America, was never the same again.

As America’s war machine built, Boots tried to continue with his studies, until he could stand it no longer. He already asked his Mother to sign so he could go, but she refused. He was still only 17.

That summer in 1942, just before his 18th birthday, he talked to his Mother again. His Father passed away when he was fifteen. Boots told his Mother, “I’ve got to go…I’ve got to fight.”

Like so many other young people all across our nation, Boots followed his heart and walked away from his hopes and dreams for his future, his family, his friends. He was listening to a higher calling, a gut pull to give of himself to protect all that we were.

He joined the Marines and boarded a train in Orlando headed for Parris Island, SC. He promoted quickly and became a drill instructor. Later, the Marines asked him to become a drill instructors’ instructor. He was that good at leading men, and the military was short of men that could do the job.

Boots kept asking his superiors, though, to be sent into combat duty; and he finally got his wish.

By the time Boots was 20 years old, his leadership skills were put to a final test on a desolate Pacific island called Iwo Jima, a Japanese-held fortress teaming with over 20,000 dug-in enemy combatants. The enemy was below ground in mazes of bunkers and tunnels, some as deep as seven stories below. As a platoon sergeant Boots came ashore with the Fifth Amphibious Division.

The island was vital to the war for both Japan and America. Our bombers could not get to Japan without the radar on Iwo Jima picking up their positions. On the island were two runways for Japanese Zeros and other planes. On February 19, 1945, the Marines came ashore.

When his lieutenant was wounded, Boots assumed command of his platoon. Their mission was to move forward against the interconnecting defense positions surrounding the base of Mt. Suribachi. In that second day of heavy fighting, the day ended with the 3rd platoon receiving two Navy Crosses, a Silver Star, seven Bronze Stars, and 17 Purple Hearts.

One of the Navy Crosses went to Boots. Thomas realized that the tanks needed help in maneuvering the unevenness and brokenness of the terrain and finding the pillboxes. Throughout the battle, Thomas left his men always in a protected position and raced back and forth between the tanks and his men, standing in front of the tank and pointing out the enemy pillboxes that hindered his platoon’s advances.

He was constantly exposed to enemy fire, so much so that they shot his rifle out of his hand which he has been using to point to the pillboxes. He simply pulled out his knife and used it instead. He survived the day to fight again.

His and his men’s actions and advances on those bloody slopes had been so great that they had by-passed the Japaneseforces and spent the night cut off from their Battalion. It was a battle, though, that would continue for five more weeks.

Unfortunately, Iwo Jima was far from over. The prize, they thought, was Mt. Suribachi, the highest point on the island; and it would take three bloody days to take it. Boots and his platoon were chosen to plant the American flag on its peak. He and his men succeeded.

First Flag Raising on Iwo Jima, Boots Thomas is sitting in front of the flag pole.

That flag-raising was immortalized later in the great Rosenthal Pulitzer Prize-winning photo which was snapped when they took down the smaller flag that Boots and his platoon had planted and raised a second larger flag.

Rosenthal’s Photo of the 2nd Flag Raising

The first flag raised there on top of that volcanic crater stirred the hearts of the thousands of Marines who were down below still fighting. The men below cheered, and the ships and carriers blew their horns. It gave them hope. It gave them resolve to finish the job, which was important because there was still much work to be done.

Boots Thomas quickly found himself in the limelight. He became famous overnight. His photo instantly appeared in newspapers across the nation. He told the reporters, “The honor belongs to every man in my platoon.”

He quickly broke away and returned to his men; and three days later while still trying to finish the job on Iwo Jima, a sniper took Boots’s life as he led his men against another enemy stronghold. He was certainly not alone, though, as over 6,800 other Americans were killed on the island before it was over.

I found an old newsreel about Iwo Jima. You can see it here.

His body was not returned to Monticello until the spring of 1948, three years after the war ended. He was laid to rest in the city cemetery. There is a plaque over his grave placed there by the US Marine Corp. At the western edge of Monticello on US 90 is also a monument raised in his honor.

Two years before he was brought home, the high school football stadium was named Memorial Stadium to commemorate the 18 local boys killed in WWII, most of which had played football on that field and one of which had been Boots Thomas. Little Monticello and Jefferson County (populations approximately 2,000 and 13,000 respectively) sent over 550 men and women into WWII.

One of Boots’s childhood friends Dr. Jim Sledge, who most of his life kept the memory of Boots alive in so many ways, led an effort to write a book about the life of Boots Thomas–from his childhood in Monticello to boot camp to combat and his return home.

I just got my 95-year old Uncle James a copy of the book, and last week I called him to see how far he had read. He said, “I already finished it. I couldn’t put it down. I didn’t turn on the TV for almost two whole days.”

The book is entitled “Call Me No Hero: Two Ordinary Boys and a Tale of Honor and Valor” by R. A. Sheats. It is well researched and well written. You can find a hard copy here. Or you can get a Kindle edition in the link at the end of this post. Several of the photos in this post come from the book.

Old Age Is Not for Sissies Blog (oldageisnotforsissiesblog.com) is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to amazon.com.

I plan to sit down and watch “The Sands of Iwo Jima” again this weekend. If I remember correctly, it mentions Boots Thomas in the opening or closing credits. It is a very good movie. It is about a platoon Sargent, who leads his men to do the impossible and then takes a fatal bullet from a sniper. If any of the grandbabies are around to watch the movie with me, I’ll tell them about Boots Thomas and what he did for his country.

Today as we gather around our TVs, let’s remember the generation that gathered around their radios when there was no tv, no Facebook, no internet. Let’s remember the men and women who never got back home. Let’s tell their stories because they were silenced and cannot tell their stories themselves.

For the men and women who died during WWII, almost all of their friends and family have too since passed. Both my Uncle and Dr. Sledge are in their 90s.

I cannot think of a better way to honor the memory of those who gave their all than to tell their stories to the next generation. That is what we Americans should do on Memorial Day.
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The Elizabethans’s Language of Love

February 13, 2016 by oldageisnotforsissies54 Filed Under: This & That

I was listening to a radio show this morning by an extension agent emeritus at the University of Florida/IFAS Orange County Extension office and learned that there is a language of love spoken by the color of roses. I found it very interesting and decided to share on this eve of Valentine’s Day.

I also looked up information online, including one very good site called The Language of Flowers. Here is what I found and heard.

The red rose is easy. If someone gave you a red rose during the Elizabethan era (1558-1603), it meant that that person had love and respect for you.

A dark crimson rose, though, was used for mourning.

A coral rose was given to show that he desired you, and a dark pink rose told you that he was thankful for something you had done.

A lavender rose showed his passion or that he was enchanted by you.

Similarly, if you received an orange rose, it was his way of saying that he was fascinated with you.

A pale peach rose denoted modesty, while a pale pink rose showed grace or joy. If you received a thornless rose, it meant that it was love at first sight. A single full blooming rose said, I love you.

A white rose stood for innocence, but could also be given when he wanted the liaison to remain a secret. A rosebud stood for beauty and youth and a heart innocent of love.

The one I found most interesting, though, was the yellow rose. It signified friendship, but it was also given when a man had been unfaithful. I wonder if it really meant, “I’ve been unfaithful, but let’s remain friends.” I’ve heard that line before.

Grit: A New Year’s Resolution

December 29, 2015 by oldageisnotforsissies54 Filed Under: Family Life, Opinion, This & That

Meta Description: <The “Greatest Generation” had grit, but do we and our children? Will we be able to rise to the occasion if our liberties are threatened?>

Remember the John Wayne picture named “True Grit”? In the movie, a fourteen-year-old girl Mattie hired Rooster Cogburn, played by John Wayne, because she heard that he had true grit. She needed someone with passion and resolve to track down and capture the man who had murdered her father.

Have you ever thought about that word “grit” and what it actually means. What was it that John Wayne’s character had that was so special?

http://youtu.be/XTMeDBVknQY

Well, I decided to look up the definition, and here is what I found. It means courage, resolve and strength of character. Synonyms are bravery, pluck, mettle, backbone, strength of character, strength of will, steel, nerve, fortitude, toughness, hardiness, resolve, resolution, determination, tenacity, perseverance and endurance. Kind of reminds you of the girl in “True Grit” when she crossed that river.

One example of use in a sentence was given by the online dictionary. It said, “He displayed the true grit of a navy pilot.”

Which brought me to think about a generation that seemed to have these characteristics. Many of us knew them as the “greatest generation”. They were the men and women who carried our country through World War II. As a whole, they epitomized this concept.

But their time was over seventy years ago. And today is…well, it is today! I can’t help wondering if our generation has this? Do we have true grit. I’m thinking, not. I’m also wondering if we have raised our children to have it, too?

I’m concerned because whether we want to admit it or not, we seem to have an enemy. Someone wants to take away our freedoms of speech, religion, and general happiness. There are those elsewhere in this world who don’t like us the way we are. They keep hitting us here on our own soil–a little here and a lot there (the Twin Towers). Each time, the threat makes us realize that we may have to call on our young people to help us again. And I’m not talking about simply air strikes in another country.

I guess I’m worried, because I’m wondering if we will have what it takes to rise up and do what is needed to be done when the time comes. It will take much fortitude, courage and hardiness from not only our military but from all of us as well.

That word “fortitude” worries me, because it seems a little hard to maintain fortitude when we have such short attention spans. I’ll give you a brief example that seemed truly insignificant at the time but may be an indication of a bigger problem.

As a family we celebrated our extended family Christmas on Christmas Eve. There were 26 family members, including our children and their families, our sisters and theirs, a nephew and his, and even one mother-in-law. As is traditional, we placed two of the grandchildren ages eight and seven in charge of handing out the gifts from the great pile under the Christmas tree.

There was one problem, though. They would pick up two or three, hand those out, and then get distracted. We would have to jump start the process again. Their parents, too, were distracted and didn’t seem to notice the problem. After about three times of this, I finally gave up and jumped in and handed out the gifts myself.

I thought of a quote I recently heard. “People today have the attention span of a gold fish.” Notice he didn’t say kids. He said people, and I think he may be right.

I’m wondering if we as productive members of society should be more concerned about teaching our children to have true grit–to demonstrate strength of character, hardiness and resolve. It all goes hand in hand with “finishing the job”. How can we have a “work ethic” if we never finish? And again I’m not just talking again about the kids. This is the job of parents and even grandparents, to maintain the effort through thick and thin. To “finish the job”. If we give up over and over, how can we expect our children to do otherwise.

Our nation’s schools of psychology are beginning to look more into this behavior called “grit”. University of Pennsylvania psychologist Angela Duckworth defines grit as a child’s “perseverance and passion for long-term goals.” She says that it is a better indicator of future earnings and happiness than either IQ or talent.

I found a blog post that explains how parents can teach their children grit. It is entitled What is Grit, Why Kids Need It & How You Can Foster It? Click on the name, and a link will take you there.

Also, this is the time of year when we re-evaluate ourselves to see what needs improvements. It is the time of year when New Year’s resolutions are made. A good focus for all of us can be to evaluate how we’re raising our children. Subsequently, a good resolution might begin in 2016 that can teach our children grit and ultimately help themselves and ourselves.

I sincerely hope someone out there is listening. These freedoms that we all cherish can only be maintained with diligence, attentiveness, and just plain “doing our part”. We must maintain and finish the jobs that we’ve been given.

Grit may be a key ingredient to our liberties.

A Christmas Story Abt a Cat Called PETA

December 21, 2015 by oldageisnotforsissies54 Filed Under: Family Life, This & That

We adopted this magpie cat, a sort of cast off from one of our kids. Abby is not an especially nice cat. She bites, and I’m usually the one she bites.

Several times she joined me on the sofa, and after some petting she just hauled off and sunk her fangs into my arm. Deep, like to the bone. It hurt like hell. Needless to say, I don’t pet her anymore. My daughter had nicknamed her “the psycho kitty,” a fitting name.

Abby came to live with us over ten years ago, when Tracy decided to marry Eric, who was very allergic to cats. Chuck and I had finally become a true empty nest with no kids and no pets. The kids’ last cat had died a year or so before. We had had sweet Grey for over eighteen years; and when she passed we decided “no more animals”. But Abby needed a home, so we said yes.

Abby had always been a tough kitty. There were stories about Abby charging out from under the bed and entangling herself in Tracy’s hose. After several pairs of ruined hose, Tracy had her declawed. She would also attack people, but she was still a kitten so it was just kind of cute.

Now she is a 13-year old 22 pound cat. She’s huge, but can move fairly quickly. Sometimes, I believe she still thinks she’s a kitten. She’s also smart. She’s the only cat we’ve ever had that knows her name.

A few weeks ago when Tracy and her family were in town, her youngest three-year-old Bryce was awfully enamored with Abby. We kept telling him to leave her alone because she bites. A few minutes later when we weren’t around, we heard a blood curdling scream from downstairs, which is Abby’s domain. Sure enough, she got him.

Bryce and his big brother Noah

The poor baby had two sets of fang marks on the top and bottom of his wrist. I thought, “Well, we won’t have to worry about Bryce and Abby anymore.” Now when Bryce sees her, he says, “Abby bites,” as if he’s sounding an alarm for anyone nearby.

Which brings me to another idiosyncrasy of Abby. She might be very good at protecting herself from the human race, but her hunting skills are practically nil. As far as I can tell, she has never killed anything outside of a slow lizard, thus her other nickname “PETA.”

It isn’t because she doesn’t try. I’ve watched her many times sneaking up on birds, squirrels, and just about anything that moves. They always fly or run away. Her biggest problem is a lack of camouflage, but she’s also just plain clumsy.

I’ve never come home to a dead bird on the front steps.

There was one bird, though, that she got. One day after work just before Christmas, I came home to a bit of a mess in the living room. There was a pile of broken ornaments underneath one side of the Christmas tree and an entire swath of decoration looked like it had been dragged down on that side.

Confused, I couldn’t imagine how it had happened. No one had been in the house all day. I looked around for anything else out of place, but the room and the rest of the house seemed untouched.
So I got a dust pan and hand broom, got down on my knees, and began to clean it up. That’s when I saw movement back behind the tree in the shadows. At first I thought about a varmint that might have gotten into the house. It had happened before. Raccoons used to get in the garage all the time. But then I realized it was Abby, and she was holding down something with her paws like it might run away.

Abby finally got a bird.

It was a fake red soft ornament that looked like a Cardinal. I remember clipping it high on the tree several days before.
No way was she going to let me take away her bird.

A Followup to the Perfect Storm

November 8, 2015 by oldageisnotforsissies54 Filed Under: This & That

Last month I whined about living in a perfect storm, you know that event in our lives initiated by two giant pine trees that decided to terrorize our home. A link to the story is here.

Two Pine Trees Fall on Our Roof

Well, the storm has finally passed; and we are moving, hopefully, one last time, back into the section that has now been repaired.

I am happy to report that the people at Hannon Construction have finished the job…and in record time. I had my doubts when they said it would take about six weeks. They started the reconstruction in mid-September, and I was such a “Doubting Thomas” that I cancelled Thanksgiving at our house this year. Saxon Hannon, his field supervisor Robin McCall, and Linda McDonald at Linda McDonald Design were all efficient and great to work with.

It literally got worse before it got better. Demo was hell.

Then they started rebuilding. All but two of the trusses had to be replaced.

Finally, it is finished.

We’ve been moving back in for a week now, but it will take several more weeks at the pace we’re going. I’m not in a hurry.

All of this goes back up into the attic. The garage is already looking cluttered.

Why? Well, think of it this way. It is like the ultimate spring cleaning. Everything in this part of the house is new. While all the boxes, furniture, and miscellaneous items that were removed from here were covered with insulation and debris from the destruction.

Abbie our cat is back to her old feeding station in the laundry room.

Just how new is it? We not only have a new roof, but also a new attic floor, totally new ceilings, and every wall inside this part of the house has a new paint job. There was carpet in the office; but because of the danger of the roof collapsing and two rainstorms before we could tarp the roof, the carpet was wet for more than a week. It had to be replaced, and we opted this time for wood floors instead. Also windows and doors on the back of the house were damaged and replaced.

Love the wood floors in the office. The only reason this room was carpeted was because this is where the grand babies played when they were crawlers.

So, little by little we are dusting off everything that we’re returning to this part of the house and getting rid of a lot of items at the same time. It is refreshing!

Right now I’m a happy Tallahassee lassy. I’m just thrilled to be setting my affairs back into order.

Now if my Noles can beat the Gators in a few weeks….life will be back to normal. Please don’t even mention Clemson and Georgia Tech.

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