Blue Christmas

Thanksgiving 2006, with Myrtle and Bob.

As hard as I am trying, I just have a dull pain in my heart that threatens to overwhelm me. I am a Christmas person - I love everything about it - the reason for the season, of course, but also the music, cards, smells, present buying, wrapping, cooking, and especially the tree, the bigger-the better!

In the last years, we have had an artificial tree, starting when my husband felt unable to manage hauling a real one in the house. The only part I miss is the smell. Haven’t been able to duplicate that so far. What I have done is to bring into the house whatever fresh greenery I can find for the mantel, dining room table etc. I believe my grandson enjoys a tree as much as I do and it’s fun to have a tree pal.

No, the pain, this year is because my oldest brother, Bob, and his wife, Myrtle, both died within two hours of each other last December 23rd. The terrible shock of waking up to an early morning phone call, on Christmas Eve, remains with me.

We were already trying to keep cheerful because my son was in Iraq and we were constantly praying for his safe return, we knew not when. I did not expect him to try to call home because we all felt the young troops with small children, especially, should have the use of any available phone lines.

We did not try to go to Myrtle Beach for the funeral the day after Christmas but maybe it would have been better for some sort of closure.

I continue to miss Bob terribly and my almost weekly phone visits with him and Myrtle. Sometimes they were five minutes in length and other times an hour or more. There are so many things I need to tell him. He always wanted to know exactly what my children were doing and later, my grandkids. I kept up with his too. He found a brand of canned peaches he thought were unusually good and called to tell me where to buy them. We didn’t try to solve all the world’s problems, mostly just shared everyday happenings. When my son was in Iraq, the first words out of Bob’s mouth when he called were always, what have you heard from the Major?

Many years ago, we were in Myrtle Beach, visiting them, and Myrtle had decorated their huge tree with dainty, white, lace angels and small, red velvet bows. She had asked a friend to make them for her. I collect angels and love them, as well as believe in them. You can imagine my great joy when Myrt brought out a white box of angels she had saved for me. They are old now but we still hang them on our tree.


My husband’s uncle, Uncle Jake, almost always spent part of the holidays with us. He was the brother of Tony’s mother, Cordelia. When my children were growing up, Jake always untangled all the tree lights with great patience and supervised their placement, from his rocking chair. He loved Oyster Stew, so that was always supper on tree decorating day. When I was newly married, we had Cordelia and Uncle Jake with us Christmas morning, along with my parents. I had bought and filled Xmas stockings for all four of them and we all got a kick out of the silly little gifts. That was the last year we had Cordelia with us, and I’m so glad it was a tad special.


I have another brother, Don, who is actually closer to me in age than Bob was. The difference, or one of them at least, is that Don always depends on his wife to write the e- mails or make the phone calls. I haven’t heard his voice in months - don’t even remember when, to tell the truth. She said he spends lots of time on the computer but guess it must be business type stuff.

Don’t misunderstand, I love my sister in law. It’s just that I miss my brother. Recently, I worried that his health may be worse than I knew but she sent me his schedule, so I guess he just stays busy. Dee had offered to take me to see them this fall when the kids had a day off from school but they said it was not convenient. We’d probably just have been there on a Saturday so had hoped it might be a free time. They suggested we set it up for the same holiday next year, but we simply can’t plan a year in advance.

I have a wonderful first cousin, Frank, who is also like a brother to me and we do email most every day. I am very fond of his wife, Karen, and we also stay in close touch. They have a beautiful home, in Brunswick, Ga. We had a nice visit with them last summer and will go back when we can.


Another sister in law died this last year, Evalyn, the wife of Tony’s oldest brother. That makes, of the three Thompson brothers and wives, just Diddy and me left.


Of the couples who were our friends, in Augusta, two husbands died this last year. I had learned as a widow that lots of couples stopped including a woman alone. These two were so thoughtful and fun and surely helped me through some tough times. I miss them a lot.

Another dear friend, a retired Navy doctor, died this past year also. He had been a friend of Tony’s as well as mine. He was another person I talked to always at least once a week, often more.

Five dear friends have died in the last few years; Angel, Anne, Maryanne, Mary, and Pat plus all their husbands. We’d all been friends for years, Pat and I since 6th grade. Knowing there is nothing I can do for them, I decided to do what I wish someone would do for me when I die. I pray for all their children and their families. No, I surely don’t know all their needs but the Lord does.

Well, hate to sound morbid but I do miss the people I loved. I know they are just fine. I also am sure my brother would not have wanted to live without his wife nor she him. But that doesn’t mean we can’t miss them.

I never for a moment forget to be thankful for my wonderful son and daughter. No mother could ask for any better children. Sometimes, they have their hands full with me – but turn about is fair play?! Obviously, I have perfect grandchildren and will be happy to take an hour or two to tell you all about them!

Grateful for Many Things

I am quite thankful for all the basics of a good life, and for many other things. Yes, for God, family, children, music, health, America, friends, books, and the list surely goes on and on.

But there is more that I’m grateful for. So that’s what I am thinking about at this time of year. Lots of little bits and pieces make up beautiful mosaics, if you will.

Just think about D-I-R-T. Once, I asked my very young son what he was most thankful for, sure he would say his beautiful Mama. He said, DIRT! He picked up on my puzzlement and said, “I really like dirt. I play in the sand box and build roads, and mix it with water, then paint myself with it and become an Indian, and walk on it, and we plant stuff in it.” Ok, gotcha.

My husband would have said he would always be grateful for Ma’s [my mother’s] fried chicken and green beans! I could second that. No one else on the planet made it taste like hers and I really tried!

Though I don’t swim anymore, only because my arthritis makes getting out of the pool difficult, there used to be the most peaceful, happy feeling when I got into a swimming pool. I love the smell of chlorine and the weightlessness of floating around in water, not on a float. I can just lie down on water and float all day.

Other than her children, I am betting my beautiful daughter would say she is grateful for CHOCOLATE! But she can write her own list :-) Correction: after checking with her she says she is most thankful for her computer and I surely go along with that!

Dishwashers! Oh, man! I’ve washed at least two million dishes. Clothes washers and dryers were total luxuries for the first part of my life, and still seem that way to me.

I am eternally grateful for automatic gear shifts. The house we lived in, when I was learning to drive, is on a very steep hill. So many times I killed the motor and let the car roll back. We had a big old Buick and I couldn’t see over the top to park. Dad finally put those little wire feelers on the tires so I wouldn’t ruin them. I am thankful for those too.

Some years ago, my sister-in-law gave me a recipe for Lewis Grizzard’s Cornbread. He said that if you had that recipe, you’d never need another. He was entirely correct and I’ve tried to share the recipe with others. I used to make corn muffins to sell at our Women of the Church Bazaar and they always sold out quickly! (Note: real cornbread does not include sugar, not in the south anyway.)

Aren’t flashlights wonderful! I have one in every room, including the baths, and in my car. I don’t see well in the dark, never have, so I have all shapes and sizes. I have the nice big Maglight, plus lots of smaller lights. Now, one can buy lights that don’t require batteries and are supposed to last up to two years but mine have lasted longer. They cost about three or four dollars, at CVS, cheaper than batteries. I give them for little presents too.

When I was a little kid, I got to help Mother wrap Xmas presents. She mostly had to use plain tissue paper, which tore if you looked at it. Then, to make it stay put along with cord or ribbon, we used stickers. My job was to stick out my tongue so she could swipe the sticker across it, while holding the paper closed. I can still taste that glue but the stickers were pretty to a child. My favorite was the Santa that looked like the Coca Cola Santa. I still like that one best. However, Scotch Tape has made life so much easier in many ways!

When I was a young person, HAIR SPRAY was nonexistent. I seem to remember my mother talking about something she’d seen used at the beauty parlor, called lacquer. She did not approve because she said it looked stiff, like paint and was probably unhealthy. I believe she really thought that only “fast” women used it.

This time of year, the children come in from the mailbox with a stack of catalogues. Why, I can order everything from English Muffins to sex toys! What fun to peruse all those little pages from all over the world, then, decide there is nothing I want. Actually, shopping in stores is no fun for me, now, so I can order what I want to give for gifts and they are delivered right to my front door.

Some years ago, just before Christmas, I believe, word got out that a mistake had been made in one of the big catalogues. It could have been Sears’ but I am not sure. Anyway, a photo of a young man modeling men’s underwear showed his Mr. Happy. I checked it out but could not tell for sure! Just a case of a fellow being too big for his britches, I guess. (I may still have that photo somewhere…)


Well, my land, I could list about a thousand more reasons to be thankful but maybe I should just add that I’m grateful anyone would read my little non-essays!

Happiness Is...

These days, toward the latter part of my life, I’ve given some thought to a few of the people, situations, and things that make me happy or, to say it differently, give me a feeling of peace. Some are quite small, some not.


My children, Bruce and Dee, are the lights of my life that make it worth living. I am extraordinarily proud of them as good, caring human beings. They are nice people and there is no one else I’d rather spend time with because they are interesting- and funny – and fun. I like to talk with them and get their views on different subjects and, quite often, their advice.

Music is part of me, in my heart and soul. I just LUV to hear myself sing ---- and often do when there is no one else around! But I enjoy singing for other folks too, one or a thousand, makes no difference. As I’ve got older, I’ve enjoyed the old hymns I learned as a young person. What could be more beautiful than FAIREST LORD JESUS or WHEN I SURVEY THE WONDROUS CROSS or IN THE GARDEN? The Spirituals touch me deeply but I don’t care for the way some are modernized, with a harsh, clashing sound. After all, why try to improve on, LET US BREAK BREAD TOGETHER and BALM IN GILEAD and DEEP RIVER…

There are several pieces of Classical music that I sometimes listen to over and over and they also give me peace.

I have a blue, heavy, cotton quilted spread on my double bed. Actually, it is quite a nice one but it is also sturdy, I have learned. If that spread could talk, it could tell tales of tears, happiness, who said what, advice given and taken, and a little gentle rough housing with a ten pound dog. Coming out of my bath, last night, I found two teenagers and the dog on top of my bed, waiting to visit and kiss me good night. Recently, hearing my granddaughter come in from a date, I waited and, sure enough, in she came to tell me all about it, while removing her shoes and piling up the pillows under her head. Sometimes, Coco gets sleepy before I do so she makes her little nest with her baby blankie and goes to sleep on top of the blue spread. She is sweet about moving over when I go to bed.

I love fall, when the weather is cool enough for a wrap. To walk outside and smell smoke from someone’s wood fire makes me breathe deeply and feel happy.

All the sounds and smell of the marsh and the ocean cause me to relax and feel I’ve come home. As our Mike said the first time we showed him the ocean, “ How cute!” He was just beginning to learn to speak English, at that time.

Answering the phone and hearing, “This is your son” is music to my ears. I love to hear his voice but after he got grown, his voice and his dads became so much alike, I sometimes had to try to figure out which one it was. Not the best idea to ask your husband who’s calling!

Of course, Dee is my only daughter and few days go by that we don’t talk even though she may have just left for work. Sometimes she calls me from the car and we catch up, because the kids keep her so busy at home.

Sometimes Dee sings when she is cooking. Dee sings like an angel and hearing her is such a joy for me.

You know, a good cup of strong, black, hot coffee is one of my life’s pleasures. And if one were not so fat, one might add a half dozen Krispy Kreme Glazed to that. :0)

Today, I had a pedicure .Now there’s a joy! It is just amazing how good that feels, with a warm water soak and all kinds of creams. Then you get to admire your own toes! I see lots of men getting them too, minus the pretty polish, obviously.

Dogs have brought great happiness to my life, even since I was a small child. The first dog I loved was named Judy and there was a steady stream of loves from then on. One special Staffordshire Terrier [pit bull] was Pete. The current tiny one is Coco and she has been so good for my grands, who had only known mongrels, some of whom were less than friendly. Mike, especially, was a little cautious but he has grown to adore Coco and she him.

The last thing I’m going to mention in this blog is my computer. Oh my, what fun, an absolutely perfect toy for an old person. I get such a kick out of looking up all kinds of places and things and people! I’ve even made contact with old and dear friends that I’d not heard from in a while. Much sunshine for this old lady [woman ?]!

Vacations to Remember

Apparently, my husband was raised to think that vacations were a waste of time and money. I never heard of his parents going anywhere just for fun. They probably went to a few weddings, most funerals, and family reunions. Both of them died not long after I married, Tony’s dad the first spring and his mother two years later, in 1959. Their finances were awfully tight plus, owning a grocery store possibly made it difficult to get away. The only trips I ever heard of them taking were to visit family – or because of family.
They didn’t go out to eat very often either or at least didn’t take their three little boys. There was talk of going to a fish camp, somewhere on a river, fairly primitive, 15 or 20 miles away. There, one was served all the fried fish and hushpuppies one could eat , plus cole slaw and sweet tea. The fish had bones in it and my mama had scared me to death of fish bones from an early age. She did not allow fish in her house so I was very ignorant of how to eat it, much less how to avoid bones. The only time I went to the fish camp, they made money on me, what with their fixed price for everyone. When my nice husband realized I was going to eat nothing but a little slaw, he deboned a couple of the little fish for me and explained that hushpuppies have no fish in them. I’d never seen one before and had no idea what they were. Now, I make delicious hushpuppies, better than the fish camp’s, I think. The fish we were served were bream, I believe, and their fresh caught meat was delicious. However, it took me the entire time to eat them because I had to carefully roll every bite around in my mouth to check for bones. My in-laws were not thrilled with me. Oh, how I longed for the square fish I’d always got at the Atlanta S&W Cafeteria ! Not a single bone in sight.

Tony’s family still teased him about his order, at a diner, in Birmingham. The family had driven down to attend the wedding of Tony’s cousin. Tony was about 12 or 13, old enough to read a menu and order for himself. When the waitress came around, he told her,” I’ll have number 3 and eggs any style.” Of course, his big brothers hooted and teased him horribly! He thought is sounded grown up to say "eggs any style"!

Years later, when all of us were on our way to the beach, we stopped at a lovely restaurant for lunch. The brothers and two little boys were at one table and all the wives and our four little girls were at another. I had been careful to tell Tony to insist that our son eat something. He was small but apparently could read the menu. After saying he wasn’t hungry, and being told he had to eat, he ordered a 12 oz.T-bone with all the trimmings! And, much to our amusement, he ate the whole thing.

The three brothers always rented the same lovely, big beach house at Kiawah Island so we could split the cost. Back then, it was not the resort that it is now and so was perfect for young families. We had a very cute milk man who knocked at our door most mornings. To even buy a loaf of bread, we had to drive back to John’s Island, on the way to Charleston. I seemed to get elected to deal with the milk man which was fine with me but they just had to tease me about him. One day, my two sisters in law and I drove over to the little store. I was driving and the car ran over a very long black snake. I did not see him in the rear view mirror, either going off the road or in the middle. I had read about the wheels kicking a snake up under the car some way and had visions of that guy waiting for me when I exited the car. As luck would have it, our milk man was just getting into his truck, on the side of the road. I stopped and motioned him over, told him the situation, and asked him to please look under my car to see if there was a snake under there. He very sweetly and politely did so. Now, understand that all this was going on while my sil’s were absolutely shrieking with laughter, grown women, mind you! Yeah, I got teased about that for a few years until my niece who was living in Texas, very kindly sent a newspaper article about a snake that had crawled up under a lady’s car. Someone told her they thought they had seen it. She pulled into a service station and the men there put the car on the elevator thingy , sent a burst of steam up under the car and a large snake dropped out. Ah, vindicated, at last!



For years, we didn’t take vacations, just trips with a purpose. One year, a day or two before Mothers’ Day, Tony’s cousin, who had a home in the mountains, died unexpectedly. That trip became my Mothers” Day present! Yes, we went to the funeral and Tony had a visit with his relatives. It was not sad to me because I’d never met the woman. At least, we stayed in a nice motel.

One evening, in late May, a nice man came up to me at a party and said he’d just offered us a free vacation at Fort Lauderdale, for a week. The only catch was that he had just bought the motel and wanted Tony to check it out and be sure the accounting etc. was correct. Of course, he was a bank customer. I said, ”We can do that." The man asked, how soon --- and I said that night but the next day would be easier. When he and I approached Tony, his excuse was that Bruce would miss the last week of first grade. I called Bruce’s teacher the next day, explained the situation, and her response was, “ Oh, thank God, I’ve been praying and the Lord answered my prayers. Maybe I can finish out the year without a nervous breakdown.” She assured me it wouldn’t hurt Bruce’s grades, might even help! Knew I should have home schooled that little boy. He got into a lot of mischief. We had a wonderful vacation!

In 1969, we received a big, heavy, elegant, wedding invitation from Mr. and Mrs. Bob Hope, to the wedding of their daughter. She was marrying one of Tony’s customers, who lived in New York but had grown up in Augusta, Nathaniel Greenblatt Lande. We could not afford to go, but my parents insisted and said they’d come keep the kids. We had to get a bank loan to pay our way. That was our only trip to Los Angeles so we stayed about five days. The groom’s parents, two doctors and wives, and we were the only guests from Augusta. Oh, and Rabbi Goldburg.

We went to a party at the Beverly Hills Hotel, the night before the wedding. On the day of the late afternoon wedding, a doctor and his wife and we rented a limo and had the driver give us a very nice tour, drop us back at our hotels to dress, then take us to the wedding and wait for us. That limo money was well spent as the area around the church was crawling with yellow cabs who had to let their passengers out away across the street to walk. The limos were allowed right to the front door with valets etc. The entire place was crawling with Secret Service and Hope’s security people. The Vice President and Mrs.Agnew were attending, obviously before his troubles. We presented our card on the steps before entering and Rabbi Goldburg had to identify us for the Secret Service. The wedding was lovely, part Roman Catholic and part Jewish. All around us, people were craning their heads and gawking to see who the other guests were. The gawkers themselves were big stars and easy to spot. We thought that was so funny that they were impressed with each other. Some even stood on their seats to see! The Crosbys were two seats in front of us and Bing arrived late, in his golf clothes.

After the wedding, we were transported to the reception at the Hopes’ home. It was a very nice home but surely not ostentacious. We spoke to our hosts but the line was not long. I got the impression that the party had been going on for some time. We chatted with the Agnews off and on as they knew as few people as we did. The party was in a huge white tent that ajoined their patio. The band stand and dance floor were the pool cover, pretty big. The food was everything one could think of. We drank nothing alcoholic as we wanted to be sure and remember everything. Tony and I , by agreement, went opposite ways around the tent and would meet and share info. Phyllis Diller spoke to me and was very friendly. When she heard my accent, she pulled me around the room so various people could hear me talk. I finally escaped. I didn’t introduce myself to many folks as I knew who they were and figured they had no interest in knowing me. The wedding gifts were displayed in the dining room the same way they would have been in Atlanta except names had been left on. We never received a thank you note and I believe it was a very short marriage. Didn’t matter. It was a trip of a lifetime, for us and Tony no longer ordered “ eggs any style”.

In later years, we did take a couple of great cruises , only for pleasure but that’s another story.

All of Bob Hope's children (left) were adopted!

Bridge Baloney

When I was an undergrad, some of the other coeds at University of Georgia played a card game called Bridge. Often, a game seemed to go on forever in the dorms, or so it seemed to me as I walked past their doors. I did not play and had no time to learn, anyway. I carried a full schedule, plus I was often pulled out of class for some kind of testing project. Also, I was on music scholarship so when someone needed solos sung, I was elected. At a large university, there was always some kind of meeting or seminar that needed luncheon entertainment. Mostly, I enjoyed this and got a free meal too.



Bridge didn’t come into my life at all until I married. We lived in an apartment complex with lots of other young couples who were also paying off college loans etc on starter salaries. So what they did for entertainment was play bridge. My husband had played all his life with his parents. They enjoyed playing so taught their three sons to play, at an early age. My parents played also but did not teach their kids to play. There was nothing to do but our neighbors decided to teach me to play. Wives were delegated to teach me in the daytime and I tried to explain that game playing and I don’t get along well, especially card games. Poor things! They were also trying to teach me to cook. It’s a wonder they could stand me but they taught me a lot, like how to make casseroles with mostly just noodles, and other ways to stretch a buck. I was such an awful bridge player that they took turns being my partner so no one got stuck with me too long.

We played Friday night bridge for the next 14 years but we narrowed it down to once a month, finally. People moved around, others joined the group.

When I was expecting my son, he was one of those babies that kicked constantly, turned somersaults, and just generally raised a fuss. Once that started, the guys at the bridge table would stand up and lift the table away from me because the table bouncing around was eerie!

One night when the temperature that day had hit 100 degrees and our house was really hot, no AC, I fixed a lovely big, raw vegetable salad for dinner. It had all kinds of veggies and homemade Thousand Island dressing. We also had grilled cheese sandwiches and iced tea. When we arrived at our friends ’house to play cards, I noticed that Tony was eating all the nuts and little goodies sitting around - I mean ALL of them. Finally, one of the men asked him if he was hungry. Starved, he said, he hadn’t had any dinner! Everyone looked at me. I could have killed him! By that time, I had learned to be a good cook but a sandwich, and no meat, was just a snack to him.

We most often vacationed at Keowah Island , S.C. with my husband’s two brothers and their families. One afternoon, the guys decided they wanted to play bridge but their wives refused to play. I was the youngest and had never played with the three of them before. The oldest brother was so proficient, no one else wanted to partner with him. I explained how awful I was so he and I played partners all the rainy afternoon. Don’t remember who won but our resident bridge grump never said a cross word to me.

One Friday night, trying to explain to the group why I was kind of sad, I explained that I’d had to paddle one of my students that day and I hated doing that. Someone said, ”But lots of those boys are bigger than you are, so how do you manage that?” “Oh”, I said,” I just grab them kind of roughly by the front of their jeans and they don’t move a muscle . “ Several of the guys said, “ Yep, that would make me stand Very still!” We lost a few minutes of playing time until they could stop snickering.

Playing correctly involves hundreds of rules and Conventions, or so it seems to me. Also, they change from time to time. Serious players demand utter silence except when discussing the game or bidding. Both my dad and husband were good bridge players but both thought all the contrived conventions were nonsense, so they didn’t bother with them. This did not set well with the persnickety players, especially when they got whooped! I can remember my parents returning from playing bridge and Dad saying,” That Mrs. Smith Jones has a right sharp tongue on her.” And Mother tearing her hair saying, “ She just wants you to play by the rules.” Then Dad retorted, “This is a game, not life or death, so I have a little fun with it.” Other than Mrs. Smith Jones, he was generally a very popular person.

When we moved To Knoxville, I told people I did not play bridge and never did again. If I got the urge, I’d just pound my thumb with a hammer until I remembered how little I enjoyed it.

Tony and his brother and sister in law, and Broad Street in Augusta in the 1950's.

Chef Boyardee And Other Foreign Foods

My mother was a wonderful Southern cook but even by southern standards, her food was kind of bland.  Oh, her foods were prepared properly, but her seasonings, which she used lavishly, were  salt, pepper, and butter. Well, add one tablespoon ketchup to that. She and my dad enjoyed a good leg of lamb which she barbequed by rubbing it good with salt, placing one slice of onion about ¼ inch thick on the highest part, and adding one tablespoon ketchup over that. All was held together by sticking  a wooden  toothpick into it to hold it in place. The lamb was delicious  and sometimes she cooked it plain without the “spices”.

Some of the items that never would have had the nerve to darken her kitchen door were: garlic in any form, onion salt or powder, Tabasco, red pepper, wine, or sherry. Now, there was sherry in the house but it was kept back behind something, in our big, pine, hutch cabinet, in the dining room. She always had expensive bottles of Scotch and bourbon, also hidden behind stacks of china etc in the hutch. She said she kept them for medicinal reasons - and besides, they had been a gift.

Other items not allowed were any kind of seafood, lettuces or green salad makings, or raw vegetables except tomatoes. She made wonderful fruit salads.

 Dad and I liked fish so I was really thrilled to go to Atlanta’s  S&S Cafeteria, downtown, across the street from Davisons Department Store. There I always selected the square piece of fried fish, Cod possibly. That and about a gallon of tartar sauce and I was in hog heaven --- or maybe cod heaven! That was the only seafood I ate for years.

Once when I was in high school, I came home from lunch at my cousin’s house and told my mother about a salad we had, called tuna salad. I raved over it so much, she finally bought one of those little cans of it and then had to call my Aunt Miriam to find out what on earth to do with it! She asked questions like, does it have to be washed and does it have lots of bones and skin? Even then, she did not eat it but did fix it for me. I still like tuna salad and have probably eaten enough of it to fill an 18 wheeler. When I first married, we had it a minimum of it at least twice a week; only once as tuna salad, though. I served is also as “chicken salad” - carefully rinsed under cold water and patted dry, and mixed up with mayo just like tuna salad. My husband proudly told people that I made grand chicken salad, unlike any he’d ever eaten before. Darn tooting!

When my brother married, he wanted his wife to make this delicious casserole for us. Back then,  it was new. It contained noodles, canned soup, tuna, and sherry. She had brought a bottle of cooking sherry and it stayed on the shelf, in the pantry, for years. By itself, it was nasty. One day, I came home from school with an awful case of the cramps. Mother said she’d planned for me to help serve as they were having dinner guests. She said, ”Here drink this sherry as I’ve heard it will cure the cramps.” With that, she made me chugalug  an iced tea glass of  cooking sherry and assured me I’d be fine soon. Hey, whaddaya know, I was shortly feeling no pain or anything else. Kept looking for my feet, could find one or another but not both at the same time. This made me very uneasy about walking down those high, winding stairs so I tried lying down. The next morning when I woke and I discovered someone had kindly thrown a quilt over me and the cramps were gone but I had an awful headache. Note: never buy cooking sherry. Instead, just buy a bottle of Taylors’ Cream Sherry. Then you can cook with it, drink it, or wash your feet in if you wish.

At some point growing up, one of my textbooks suggested that families should have a meal that represented another country and perhaps learn something about it.. When I told Mother about it she thought it was a great idea. A few nights later, we were served meatballs and Franco American spaghetti, a very easy meal. It was enjoyed so much that she branched out to meatballs and Chef Boyardee. A family member suggested she might research meals Yankees eat but she was not ready to put sugar in her cornbread and eat crunchy green beans.

I don’t remember just how old I was when my precious friend, Pat Ewalt, for my birthday, took me to lunch at Little Italy, in downtown Atlanta. We were old enough to be allowed to go out to lunch alone so maybe 8^th grade. Honestly, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven! They brought us the most delicious garlic toast I’ve ever eaten. They sliced a fat loaf of bread horizontally into about ½ inch thick, huge slices, you know, about the size of a platter. I don’t know what else they did, added olive oil, lots of garlic, teensy bits of red and green peppers, I just am not sure what they did .But it was the best toast I’ve ever eaten, then or now. We ordered other food, of course. We celebrated each of our birthdays there until we graduated from UGA, and I had taught school in Atlanta one year. Then I married and Pat and Chuck married just a few months later. Really, the food in Italy was never as good as the Little Italy restaurant!

Because of my limited exposure to different cuisines growing up, I enjoyed discovering various new foods as an adult.

I believe it was the first trip we made to Texas to visit Bruce, after he graduated and went on into the regular Army, that we picked him up and went to spend the weekend, in Austin .At breakfast the next morning, he showed the waitress the menu, and told her just to bring everything on one side. She did that and he did not leave a crumb.  From then on, our vacations centered around wherever he was stationed. I loved Texas and we pretty much drove all over it. We’d run around during the week and come back on Thursday to spend the weekend with him. He introduced me to Tex-Mex food and I loved it. I am careful not to add too much hot pepper sauce though -just made that mistake once.

I don’t believe I’ve eaten enough French food to judge it. I’ve enjoyed French food in the states but was not thrilled with it in France. Maybe it’s because I don’t know how to pronounce it correctly. Then again, after spending time at the D-Day beaches and the American cemeteries, the lump in my throat refused to go away. The best meal I ate in Paris was in the train station when we just arrived. It seemed that lots of local people were eating there and the food was quite good.

I did very well with German food because, I suspect, Bruce always ordered for me after we talked it over. Got kind of funny because he started ordering a child’s plate for me - portions were so generous. Then when he didn’t, he changed plates with me and ate half of my meal. He studied German before going over because he wanted to communicate with them in their own language, and he never lived on post. I spoke the language well enough to get by but never as comfortably as he did. I am real good at pointing, grunting, and giggling and loved the fact that the Germans liked to laugh too. (Interesting note: I was only pinched once in Europe and that was in a German art museum!)

War's End

Toward the end of the war, we moved on to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina for a short time. It was not the tourist mecca it is now, just a small beach town.

The most important thing that happened there was on the day we moved into our new house. I was perched outside watching the men unload the moving van. Big brother Bobby was helping, as he was 16 or 17 years old. From the house next door, a beautiful, blonde, young woman came walking out and continued walking toward downtown, about three blocks away. Well, Bob grabbed our car keys from somewhere, jumped into the car, and pulled over offering her a ride. She accepted. Myrtle Montgomery was two years younger than Bobby. They were pretty much always together the rest of the time we lived there.

Bobby and Myrtle were married 60 years and died within about two hours of each other, last December 23, 2008.

 They had three beautiful children, three grandchildren, and me. For a lot of my life, they were almost like second parents to me and I miss them terribly. Never a month actually passed that Bobby and I didn’t talk on the phone and most often to Myrtle too. When all the kids were young, Myrt and I talked in the daytime and after he retired, Bobby and I often talked in the daytime when folks were at work or school. One day, years ago, my phone rang about noon and Bob’s voice said, “How old am I? I’m trying to fill out some blame papers at work and have just gone blank.” He wasn’t old enough to have a senior moment  but we’ve all done that. Anyway, we talked it through and laughed about it for years afterwards.

There was simply nothing I couldn’t ask or talk about with Myrtle and her answers were always totally honest. She was as close as I came to having a sister. I was only eleven or so when I met her and we lived right next door. I adored her older sister, too, and spent many afternoons visiting with her mother. My mother was often working.  Myrt’s brother, Bud, and Don were about the same age but I don’t remember them being really close friends – but I could be wrong. When Bud and Elsie married, I went to Myrtle Beach to sing in their wedding and had a grand time.

Bobby joined the Navy, a few days before he would have been 18, July 19th. Daddy had to sign for him and it nearly broke his heart. That was the first time I’d ever seen my dad cry. Though the war was winding down, it was still very frightening. We were no longer afraid of being invaded but our young men were still in harm’s way.

Myrtle Beach was filled with young soldiers, sailors, marines, and airman. There was an airbase   close by and lots of the military came there for R&R. Bobby spent some time teaching me how to protect myself. I was pretty much a free soul, riding my bike all over town and on the beach. Most of the time, no one knew where I was.

That Christmas, Mr. Montgomery hitched up a horse to an old sleigh and Myrt drove it and took me with her and we delivered Christmas presents all over town and up toward what is now North Myrtle Beach. A group of young people came by the Montgomery’s  to get  Butch [ Myrtle’s nickname} to go caroling and she took me with her, great fun for me.

Years later, after I married and lived in Tenn. with husband and children, Miss Flora, [Myrt’s mother, Mrs. Montgomery] died, and they told me not to try to come. So I sat down and tried to write a letter telling all of them how much I loved their mother. It was a few days after the funeral and Myrtle called. She said it was the sweetest letter she’d ever seen and described her mother so well. Can’t begin to say how much that meant to me. Wish I’d saved a copy of the letter.

Something about the war years I’ve always remembered is that whatever happened, people went to church. My memory is that D-Day, June 6, was a big one. People stopped work and went to church to pray for our troops and all the troops on our side. V-E Day, victory in Europe, and V-J Day, Victory in Japan, sent many people to church in thanksgiving. We are a nation of people who pray and worship GOD. I am proud and so thankful for that!

Well, soon after, my parents were ready to return to Atlanta. It was an extremely crowded city. There were no houses to be bought or rented. Most of our furniture went into storage and we lived in a too small apartment, the four of us and a big dog. Then, thankfully, Bobby came home but we were even more crowded. Don was riding a city bus to Boys’ High School, and one day, he saw a moving van in front of a house. I am vague on the story here but I think he called Dad at work. Dad came and talked to the people and he and Mother bought the house shortly after. We were all thrilled at Don’s quick action!!!

Our wonderful, roomy, big, 4 bedroom house was at 386- 9^th Street, N.E. I always thought it was just exactly what a home should look like with its big bedrooms upstairs, big front porch with a swing, living room, dining room, music room, kitchen, enclosed back porch etc etc.. Dad had his big basement which he made into a workshop .Lots of wonderful memories about that old house that was truly a home.

The Atlanta public school system changed the high schools to grades 8-12, neighborhood high schools the year I started 8^th grade and Don was a senior. So I was lucky enough to walk the block and a half to Grady High the entire 5 years. Don had sung in the chorus for the wonderful Dr. Rumble, at Boys High. So when I started at Grady, Don told me to go talk to Doc and tell him I wanted to be in his chorus. Well, I went after school the first week and told him I needed to be in his chorus. He said I’d have to sing with the girls’ glee club first then could sing with him my last two years. I said but my brother said I was to sing for you so I’d like to do that now. He laughed at that shy, trembling little girl with the great big voice, and said Ok, lets sing.  I have no idea what I sang, but he just said, report here in the morning. I was in his homeroom my entire five years at Grady  and loved him dearly, as did all his students. We always did a Gilbert and Sullivan operetta, every year.

At first, Dad worked for Foremost Dairies and organized and managed their baseball team, as he had done for other companies. Of course, he pitched also and that brought out lots of people to see him, as well as the sports writers. Bobby always played for him and was himself a fine player. Bobby could have easily made it to the pros if the war had not got in the way.

Finally, Dad went to work for Lockheed where he stayed until he retired. He was allowed to work two extra years while he trained TWO men to take his place. He was not a college graduate and he was often amused at the Ga. Tech grads he had to train. When he finally retired, there was a nice write up in the company magazine about his having retired from two careers. Little did they know of all else he had done as well!