Archive for June, 2010

Jun 29

Road Trippin’

Well, we’ve covered a lot of miles this month.  We left a week ago last Saturday for Charlotte and more or less took our normal route.  Since Jim was driving we stayed on Hwy 41 until we got to I-24, then took I-40 at Nashville, switched to 77 at Statesville and got off at exit 18 to cut across town on Harris Blvd.  It took us a little longer than it would have if I’d been by myself because Jim stops more often, but we were there in plenty of time for dinner.

Everyone but Steph went to the movies Saturday night (she had to work).  We saw Karate Kid.  It’s an old favorite and I was interested to see how different the remake would be.  It really wasn’t like a remake of the same story, more like a new episode of the same concept.  It was pretty good, although I still don’t believe a scrawny kid geek of a kid could learn Karate well enough in just a few weeks to beat older kids who’ve been training for years.  But that has never stopped me from enjoying the story before and it didn’t this time either.  Total reality is not a requirement as long as the plot follows a logical path.

I finally got to shoot a picture I’ve been wanting for years.  The Hickory Grove Baptist Church has a tall steeple with stained glass that is lit at night.  While we were waiting for showtime, we went over and shot several photos.

On Monday, we trekked down to the old Independence Colosseum (It has been renamed Bojangles) for Stephanie’s graduation ceremony.   Considering the fact that Davie counted 590 names in the program, it went really fast.  She was beautiful, as usual and we are all very proud of her.   Afterward, we all went to lunch at a new Japanese place.

College street after dark...

That evening, Jim and I went downtown to do some more shooting.    He wanted a time lapse of the light rail train that runs from seventh street out to the southeast side and I tagged along because I always enjoy spending time in Charlotte’s downtown area.  I sat and read for a couple hours at a sidewalk cafe type place beside the tracks while he worked on his project, then we walked around the block and got some street scenes.

We left early the next morning on our planned  round about journey home.  Kenneth supplied the traditional “Are we there yet?” dialog as we looped up through Virginia, then took surface roads to Cumberland Falls where we spent the first night.

Cumberland River above the falls.

Jim and I got up before dawn to catch the morning light.  Davie took Kenneth to the pool when it opened and we had lunch in the lodge dining room before we started on the second leg of our odyssey.

Although the two-story cabin was nice, the beds comfortable, and the scenery spectacular, we weren’t impressed with the food.  I think the lodge at Dawson’s Pennyrile Park has a better selection on the buffet and the menu was almost identical.  I guess I expected Cumberland to have a more elaborate dining room since it’s a bigger attraction.  If we go back again, we’ll stop at a grocery store before we get there and cook our own food in the full-sized kitchen which is stocked with dishes, pans and everything else you need for an average meal except the food.

It is just a few hours from Cumberland Falls to Richmond, Ky which is the closest town to our next planned stop, Fort Boonesboro.  We checked in to the hotel, then drove out to the park.  Of course, like most state offices, they close atSuspension Foot Bridge over the Kentucky River near Fort  Boonesboro. 5pm and we wanted more than an hour for our money, so we decided to return the next morning.

Back at the hotel, we lounged around the pool while Kenneth swam with some kids around his age.  Proving once again what a small world it is, their mother used to live in Madisonville as a kid and attended Pride Avenue school.

Exploring along the way the next morning, we discovered a suspension bridge and Natural Tunnel State Park.  I managed to choke down my fear of heights long enough to take a few shots from the bridge, but the lift down to the tunnel was more than my nerves could stand.  Jim and Kenneth rode it down while Davie and I waited for them above.

I knew going in that Fort Boonesboro was a reconstruction.  Of course, it was impossible for the original logs to survive more than 200 years.  However, I thought it had been rebuilt on the original site.

Gunsmith explaining the art.

I was disappointed to find that it wasn’t, but the original site is inside the park and there are markers to show where important historical spots were.  The dimensions of the new fort are not exact. The walls match, but the cabin roofs are higher.  You can’t go upstairs in any of the blockhouses either.  Only two of the cabins are authentically furnished, while the others are used for offices, storage and little historical demonstrations of candle making, gunsmithery, spinning and weaving, etc.  Even though the fort wasn’t what I anticipated, it was interesting.  Not very authentic or photogenic, but certainly educational.  Kenneth didn’t seem to know much about Daniel Boone before we got there and I think he enjoyed the visit.  The park also has the Kentucky River Museum, which is mostly a house that was home to the locksman and his family.   All in all, we enjoyed the visit, the hotel was comfortable and the lectures of the tour guides were interesting.

The next morning we headed for home, finally getting back on the Interstate system.   Except for a quick stop at My Old Kentucky Home, we resisted all impulses to extend our adventure and got home Thursday evening.  This past weekend we took off again, headed north to Ohio for a family reunion.  But that needs to be another post.  This one is already too long.

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Jun 21

Fathers

My brothers and I were blessed with wonderful parents who loved us and tried their best to raise us to be good people.  Our father was a rather reserved man, not cold or distant, just quiet.  He didn’t have much to say, but when he said something we all knew we’d better listen. 

A professor of mine recently made a scornful comment about adults who still call their fathers Daddy after they are grown.  I don’t know what his relationship with his father was like, but I do know that it never occurred to any of us to call our father anything but Daddy.  We loved him and respected him unreservedly for our whole lives.  I am sixty-six years old as I write this, he’s been gone for more than 25 years, and I still think of him as Daddy.

When my children were born, my greatest wish for them was to have a relationship with their fathers like the one I had with mine.  Unfortunately, that didn’t happen.  I don’t want to give the impression that either of my husbands were not good fathers.  They did their best.  However, they were hampered by the fathers they had to use as their examples.  Somehow, they never achieved that combination of respect and affection that my father earned from us.

My children love their fathers and, as they have gotten older, their relationships with them have seemed to improve somewhat.  But, the unfailing affection and support that I knew as a child becoming an adult, has come from other men.  My brothers who never had children of their own have followed in my father’s footsteps and shown my children and grandchildren the trust and support that we got from our father.

Because they are uncles instead of fathers, they haven’t exerted the discipline that we got from Daddy, but all my children and grandchildren know that they can count on my brothers to be there whenever they are needed, whether it is simply attending their ball games or providing them with a place to live, they have a male figure in their lives that they can count on for support.

That is what fatherhood is truly all about.  Someone posted a Father’s Day quote on Facebook yesterday that says it all: “Any idiot can make a baby, it takes a real man to be father.”

Being a good father is so much more than providing a home and food.  It’s about tossing the ball, listening without lecturing, accepting the child as an individual person with dreams and needs of their own, but still managing to require honesty and reliability from them.  So, to all those true fathers out there, whether they’ve ever actually made a baby or not, Happy Father’s Day. You’ve earned it.

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Jun 03

The reasons I sing praises to His Name.

I received a prayer request this morning from a young mother whose infant son has been diagnosed with cancer.  Tiffany is the best friend of my oldest granddaughter, Tracy.  I’ve known her since they were in middle school.  She has created a Facebook page to ask for everyone’s prayers as Jaxton fights yet another battle.

When she got pregnant soon after graduating from high school, she chose to keep her baby.   Jaxton was born with health problems and has fought one battle after another.  Somehow, Tiffany has stayed strong through all of it.  I pray that they will survive this newest challenge together and finally have good health.

To watch an infant struggle so hard just to survive has to be the most painful thing imaginable.  I cannot pretend to understand the anguish that a mother of any age must feel in such a situation.  I am not sure I could handle it even now and I thank God that I haven’t had to find out.

I know many people who would say this circumstance is to be expected when children have children, not because the young mothers do anything wrong, but simply because their own bodies aren’t mature enough to handle pregnancy.  I want to disagree with them, but must admit the statistics seem to be on their side.

I was a teenage mother.  My oldest son was born when I was 17 and his brother came before my 19th birthday.  All three of my daughters were mother’s before they were eighteen.  I thank God every day that all my children and grandchildren were born healthy in spite of our young ages.

I, personally, ran the gamut of chances for birth defects.  When I was pregnant, women were not advised against tobacco and alcohol.  I started smoking between the birth of my youngest son and that of  my oldest daughter.  I never drank a lot, but I never stopped because I was pregnant.

Although my sons were born while I was a teenager, the time span between my oldest daughter and her two younger sisters was long enough to put me in the over thirty bracket for the last one.  Thirty-two is only the lower edge of the second most dangerous age for giving birth, but it still falls within the time-frame.

In spite of the odds, I have five healthy, intelligent, beautiful children.  They have given me many grandchildren who are the same, even though my daughters too were not always the optimal age and sometimes indulged bad habits.

As I look back over my life and consider the many mistakes I made when I was young, I can only conclude that my mother’s prayers were answered and God was watching over us every day.  The faith she nurtured in me leads me to pray daily for my children and grandchildren to be as blessed as I have been.  I know He hears and even when circumstances lead to difficult times, He is there to give us as much strength as we need to overcome the problems of life.

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