The View from Here

Happy Birthday to Me!

Surprise

Just when you grow accustomed to the orderly and ordinary in life, along comes something wild and wonderful. This startling creature appeared at our feeders twice yesterday. Perhaps she will return today and I’ll get a better photo. (BTW, this is not an albino. The bird has leucism, which only affects the feathers, not the eyes.)

We’ve encountered a few other odd birds in the past and of course, a few unexpected animals as well.

I’m eager to see what, or who, today brings.

I think My Brother Hates Me

I’ve posted this a time or two, but this week seems an appropriate time to post it again. My birthday is Wednesday and my brother David’s was the day after mine. We always thought of ourselves as best friends, even though we didn’t always get along. David died in July of 2017.

 

I think my brother hates me.

He won’t let me touch his baseball cards.

He won’t let me play with his robot.

I can’t even go in his room,

unless I knock,

and give him a cookie,

and just look,

but not touch anything.

 

My brother even says he hates me.

He said “I hate you!”

when I told Mom about the two cookies,

four plates,

three glasses,

and half-eaten apple core under his bed.

 

He said “I HATE you!”

when I told Dad about the snake

he borrowed from Jimmy Winters

and hid in his closet in a shoe box.

 

He said “I REALLY HATE you!”

when I told Grandma what he said

about the long black hair on her chin.

 

But maybe he just likes to say

“I HATE YOU!”

because it sounds BIG

and LOUD

and TOUGH.

Brothers are like that sometimes.

 

I think my brother does hate me,

sometimes.

But other times,

when he isn’t thinking about being my brother,

he sort of likes me.

He says I’m funny.

He says I’m “not so bad…for a girl.”

He tells me about curve balls,

and space invaders, and wrestling.

He even showed me how to spit.

 

My brother said “I love you” once,

when I had a fever

and little spots all over

and I had to say in bed for days and days.

He brought me a Popsicle.

“Why?” I asked. He said,

 “’Cause I love you,

you little squirt,

now shut up.”

 

I think my brother hates me,

but only sometimes,

and only a little,

and only for now.

Because he knows

and I know

we’re family.

Mistakes r Made

I’ve been typing for fifty-five years. You’d think that if a person had been doing the same task for that long their skills would be near perfection. You would be wrong.

I learned to type at home on an old black manual typewriter that my mom used to crank out her stories. My fingers were not always strong or accurate or speedy so I generally avoided typing until it was required. And it was required for a few formal letters and school assignments.

When I attended high school I took a typing class and sat next to a typing prodigy who made my feeble attempts at speed and accuracy seem pitiful by comparison. The switch to electric typewriters gave me hope and I did improve my skills, but not by much.

Fast and accurate typing was a job requirement that prevented me from acquiring several lucrative positions. I failed more typing tests than I can recount. It seems to me that most employers preferred 65 words per minute, and my speed hovered between 45-55 after subtracting my mistakes. Needles to say, my first two real jobs did NOT require any typing.

The word processor, followed by the computer, saved me. The fact that I didn’t have to go through a physically tedious process of correction (white ribbon or white-out liquid) or retype a whole page, seemed to free my mind and fingers from the fear of failure. My speed and accuracy improved enough to meet my personal needs and also qualify me for a couple of satisfying jobs. Typing became a task that was no longer intimidating.

Fast forward to today. Between personal tasks, research, and writing, I type about six hours a day. The ease of typing on a computer keyboard means I don’t get fatigued. No one cares about how quickly I type. Autocorrect helps with most errors. However…

I am constantly amused by a number of frequent, habitual mistakes that I make while typing.

Last week the staff at the genealogy library finished the indexing of my new book. During that process they also looked for errors, made a list of them, and allowed me to correct them before the book was printed. We’ve had this partnership for years. And for years I’ve been making the same mistakes! LOL

Here is my list of common errors:

form instead of from

ws instead of was

sate instead of state

ot instead of to

ofr instead of for

There are a few more, but these are the ones that appear almost every day. And Word will allow some of them, like ws, to stand without any indication of the error. Up to me to hunt for it, usually with the “search and replace” feature.

I know this isn’t a “words of wisdom” post. Probably has no purpose or value to anyone else. But the fact that I just typed “ot anyone” and had to correct it, says something about the way my fingers and brain work together. Some things apparently never change…

Out and About

A little over a year ago, after a couple of life-threatening health challenges, Gary was told by his doctor that he should not travel beyond thirty minutes distance from a major hospital. He carries a note in his wallet that names the procedure and test required should he have another crisis. So, a few of our favorite places have been “off limits” for a while. One of those was the Tishomingo Wildlife Refuge. It is far away, “over the river and through the woods”, and not near a hospital with the facilities necessary for Gary’s condition.

Even after Gary had passed his travel ban date there were reasons we couldn’t visit the refuge. They sustained heavy damages from flooding. The visitor center was destroyed and the roads were closed. Then the government shutdown closed them for a while.

Finally, yesterday, were able to return. It was a glorious day! Sunny and 70 degrees.

We walked the trail through the woods. We visited the ponds. We saw the construction project that will result in a new visitor’s center.

We had a picnic lunch.

We even drove five more miles to the Blue River fishing area.

It was great to be out and about again!

Living Legacies

I was driving through Caddo yesterday and stopped in the middle of Russell Street when I saw these flowers in a vacant lot. I backed up a bit, rolled the passenger window down, and quickly took this picture.  Then I just sat for a few minutes and let my mind wander.

Despite the distance and the windy conditions that made it less-than-great, I will treasure this photo. You see, the vacant lot is where my great-grandmother’s house once stood. I know in my mind that the flowers could have been planted by another owner, years after her death, but my heart wants to believe they were part of the wonderful garden she tended.

I also drove to my dad’s old house and saw that his lilies are already sending up green shoots to welcome spring. Granny’s old Vitex is still standing and I assume her climbing roses will sprout along the fence just as they have done every year since she planted them decades ago.

Then, out of curiosity, I drove past Valentine Moon’s old home. There is very little evidence that she once had one of the most glorious displays of daffodils I’ve ever seen. However, at the edges of the yard I can still see a few green sprouts.

I can drive to Liberty Hill and no doubt still see one or two of the irises planted along the pasture fence by my grandmother, Della Springer. I’ve removed and relocated some of them to other homes and I assume that unless someone dug them up, they will bloom this summer.

I did a Google search for my grandmother’s old house in CA and there in the yard is the little Christmas tree we planted in the late seventies. Now it’s as tall as the house.

People often ask me why I plant flowers in the yards of homes I don’t even own. This is part of the reason. Flowers, especially trees, shrubs, and bulbs, create a living legacy. Of course I enjoy the act of gardening and the current results of my efforts, but I’ve also driven by some of my previous residences and been pleased to see my flowers still living and growing and making the world a little more beautiful.

Dogs

Even though we have not owned a dog since 1992, Gary and I enjoyed watching the Westminster Dog Show this week. All of the dogs were interesting, some were beautiful, and a few were entertaining. The finalists for Best of Show were certainly crowd pleasers and Gary was very fond of the fox terrier who won. It reminded him of a dog he had when he was a boy.

Gary and I discussed several of the dogs we owned when we were children, and one amusing fact emerged. Neither of us could recall the origin of any of our childhood pets. After we married, Gary and I bought a dog from the local pet shop. Over the years we bought a few others, got some from the pound, one or two from friends. We can remember most of our acquisitions. But the pets of our younger days are a mystery. I suppose we just didn’t care where a dog came from as long as we liked it and it liked us. And certainly the choice of a dog was never ours. Each of us lived in a household where our dad just brought one home.

Neither of us could remember any length of time when we didn’t have a dog. We both grew up on ranches in CA where dogs served several purposes. One of ours was great at keeping predators away from our chickens, but another developed a taste for eggs and we eventually had to find another home for him. Dogs were always good at alerting us when strangers were on the property. They were good companions. We had one for a while that Dad thought he could train to herd our sheep…but sadly, the dog had other ideas.

The American Kennel Club currently recognizes 202 breeds of dogs, but when we were children there were only about twenty that I recognized. My favorite was a boxer that we had for a few years. I never really liked dogs with long hair because they required more grooming and they shed a lot of that lovely hair. My preference continued into adulthood and we owned several Dobermans. However, our children owned a few long-haired dogs over the years.

Many of my friends count dogs as their favored companions, but I no longer feel safe with a dog or a cat around. My walking and balance challenges are complicated enough without the presence of an active animal. I have two friends who fell recently and were injured because of their dogs. So I’m happy with a pet-free home. However, I have fond memories of some of the dogs I’ve shared my life with in the past…even if I can’t remember how some of them arrived.

Work Ethic

As part of my research for my Caddo blog and my FB pages I read an old issue of a local newspaper each morning. Copies of the Caddo Banner, Calera News, Durant Weekly News, and others are online. Once a week I make a few copies from the Caddo Herald when I visit the Bryan County Genealogy Library in Calera.

I’m often amused by the “news” found in the Cat’s Paw, the little paper published by the school. Some of it reminds me so much of the silly things we thought were important when I was a member of the paper’s staff in high school- who was dating, who had the best car, who was seen at the latest party. Of course, our paper wasn’t part of the local newspaper and so much of that has been lost. I have a few copies in my files and I’m sure some of my classmates kept random copies. However, I’m very grateful that the editor of the Caddo Herald chose to share the Cat’s Paw with the whole community. Each week for several years the Cat’s Paw was a feature of the paper and included the news from high school and sometimes the grammar school. Each grade and several departments, clubs, etc. had their own reporter.

There are bits of real news in some issues. This morning I read about the school bus hitting a train. (Only the driver was slightly injured.)

There are bits of silly news. “Wonder why Juanita started wearing her gold ear rings?”

And once in a while there is a thoughtful little editorial like this one:

 

The Caddo Herald

January 25, 1935

Cat’s Paw

Jane Moore, Editor-in-Chief

Editorial

Sometimes too little credit is given to the steady worker who sticks to his post of duty no matter what comes. We praise the spectacular worker, without giving credit to the steady plodder who made the feat possible.

We little realize how hard it is to stay with some little, necessary, but almost unnoticed piece of work when friends and pleasures call. But if we do not do well the small task assigned us, a larger one will never be given us. That is to say, in the words of the immortal Milton- “They also serve, who only stand and wait”.

 

Those words of wisdom written so long ago seem to have even more meaning in our crazy world where the government is considering once again whether to disrupt and even destroy the lives of workers who make their jobs possible.

Reward

Yesterday all six blooms were open. A great antidote for our dreary winter weather. 

Nearly Perfect Day

It was 20 degrees yesterday morning, but dry and not too dreary.

We went to Hagerman for a presentation about bluebirds.

The roads are open again after recent floods closed them.

The visitor’s center was open again while the government is allowing the staff to work.

Our son attended the workshop and we had a good visit afterwards.

We went to lunch…something we rarely do anymore.

A heron chose to sit still and watch me, rather than fly away. I’m thankful he allowed me to take these shots.

If only the garden had been in bloom, it would have been a perfect day. Patience…