Tempus fugit

I hope I'm not being maudlin, because I don't feel that way.  I really have been spending a lot of time going through old papers and photographs, and am a little preoccupied with the past.

Daddy died 27 years ago today, and he's as alive in my mind as if it were only yesterday that I saw his sweet smile and heard his voice.

It's a peculiar thing with old photographs: I was staring at this picture and it for a minute it looked just like my brother Mac did at that age, then it shifted and I saw William.  A moment later it morphed again and the smile was Mary Catherine, my niece's. 

Grandmother and Daddy

Every summer, my grandmother and her mother and sisters and all the children and some of the help would move up to their summer home in Hendersonville, North Carolina, to escape the stifling south Georgia heat.  The menfolk were left behind in Valdosta, to work and swelter. I have a lot of the wonderful letters exchanged between my grandparents during these periods of separation.

Here is an excerpt of one written by my grandmother when Daddy was about 5 years old:

"The children have had a lot of fun tonight.  They dressed Emily Attaway [a child in the neighborhood] up as a bride, with a long train, flowers, etc., and had Jr. for the groom.  They paraded up and down the street and were simply darling.  They would hug and kiss ever so often like they were crazy about each other.  I don't know what we are going to do with Jr., he is so affectionate.  Like his Dad."

The Jr. she's talking about is Daddy.  

Speaking of affectionate, I love the way she ends her letter: " Well, I bid you a goodnight, my darling, with a goodnight kiss, for I love you so"

A new favorite Roddy story

Roddy Vickers is a love, one of the kindest, most caring people in the world.  He oversaw the team of caregivers that looked after Jimmy's parents in their sunset years. His daughter Vicky was with my mother when she died - Vicky was brushing Mama's hair when Mama had a massive heart attack.

Roddy also has a great sense of humor.  He called Jimmy last week to wish him a happy birthday, and he and Jimmy were commiserating about their ailments.  Roddy told Jimmy he'd been to see his doctor recently, and the doctor looked at Roddy, then looked down at Roddy's chart, then looked back up at Roddy again and said, "Roddy, you look a whole lot better in person than you do on paper."

This is a very unflattering picture of Roddy, but it's all I could find on the internet.

Another good reason for being a packrat

While we've been home this past week, a project has been to sift through some boxes I've let pile up, to sort the wheat from the chaff.  I've thrown out bags of chaff, but have also unearthed some nuggets that make me glad I didn't just toss it all out.

I started looking through an old Bible, published in 1854.  I've recently become enamored with genealogy and know a lot more family history now than I did a few years ago. A few years ago, I didn't know who the owner of this book was. Or care.

This says "Edmund Parham's property, Dec 2nd 1855."   I know now that Edmund was my great-great-grandmother's younger brother who was born in 1833.  He died in 1864 in Spotsylvania, Virginia, fighting for the Confederacy in the War Between the States. 

If he had this book with him when he died in Virginia, I have no idea how it would have found its way back to his home in Georgia.  But no matter - what he has written in the front of the Bible is haunting:

"...my country though sad and forsaken, in dreams we visit thy seabeaten shore,

but alas, in a foreign land I awaken, and sigh for the friends who meet me no more."

Keeping a straight face

Average facial features are even and fairly symmetrical, like this:

 but sometimes you see faces that are totally cattywompus, like Brian Williams, the newscaster. I get so engrossed in staring at the angles of his features that I can hardly pay attention to what he's saying. That aside, he's a handsome man, and very good at his job.

Bittersweet

I got my Medicare card today with mixed feelings: happy to have it but a little bummed-out that a girl like me is considered a senior citizen.  Later, Jimmy rode with me to Winn-Dixie where I ran in to pick up a few things while he waited in the car.

"What are you smirking about?" he asked as I was putting the groceries in the back seat.  "I got carded," I gloated.  "YOU LIE!" "No, I'm not lying.  The little check out girl made me show her my driver's license, and she entered my birth date into the register."

"Well, you KNOW it was a new employee and they told her she had to log in everybody's birth date, even if they're 95 and on a walker."  Wrong thing to say, Jimmy, like being told, yes, that dress makes me look fat. He was right of course, but he didn't have to be so quick to burst my bubble.

Oh, and the bottle of wine I got carded for:

Happy 71st birthday to my sweet Jimmy

The man

Jimmy, Converse, and Briggs Smith

Briggs, a guide, Kenny Scruggs, Converse, Ed Crane, Jimmy in the shadows, and Micky Bright

Suenelle gave us these old pictures last week, taken many moons ago, on a hunting trip to South America, or something like that.  Jimmy looks so cute and sweet that I'm using these pictures to commemorate his birthday today.

Best In Show

It must have been tough being the judge this week at the Westminster Dog Show, with the outstanding lineup of dogs to choose from.  The wire-haired fox terrier won Best in Show, a choice I can't fault, although I would have picked the miniature pinscher, but only because my darling Andy wasn't there to claim the prize.