Bobbi's Mercer Memories

Happiness and Sadness of May

2011-05-17T14:37:00.000-04:00

Where has the year gone? Just yesterday we were celebrating the holidays and now I’m back to working in the yard. My Granny Devine always did say time speeds up as you got older, and now I’m seeing this is so true.

While I’m not a hot weather, summer person, I am glad to finally leave the cold days of winter behind. Too many days of sub-zero weather has made my joints ache and creak, so I’m ready for a change. Warmer weather means more time in the garden, more time to walk and more time to soak up the daylight. Of course, it's still Kentucky, so we are still having some cold days - not to mention the inches and inches of rain we have had.

The month of May is the perfect time to shed our winter skins and slip into the latest summer fashions. After months of cabin fever and overwhelming darkness, you feel an almost rebirth at the excess of sunshine and warmth.

May has always been a transition month for my family. We are transitioning from the long winter and spring into the warmth of summer and from school to summer break. We are transitioning from slow time, early darkness and structured schedules to fast time, later sunsets and relaxed casualness. We say goodbye to prime-time television, large pots of chili and blue jeans with sneakers and say hello to drive-in movies, salad from the Farmer's Market and shorts with flip flops.

I cannot believe I no longer have any children in the local school system. Christine has just completed her first year at Berea College and she is excited about her college career. It has been hard adjusting to no children in the house, but now I have her home again, even if it's only for three months.

I am so incredibly proud of all three of my daughters – I could not have asked for three better girls if I had tried to order them from a catalog. They are all intelligent and responsible adults and they fill my life with joy. My granddaughter, Devon Mikayla, is already a special girl - and spoiled rotten - she has us all wrapped right around her little finger.

May 19th is a special day for Keith and I – it will be our 21st wedding anniversary. We have been together for 25 years and are happy to be celebrating such a great milestone. Like most couples, we have had our ups and downs, our sicknesses and health, our richer and poorer, but we have created a unique family with strong ties and our bond is even stronger today than it was 21 years ago. We have raised three beautiful, intelligent daughters and they are our pride and joy and we are both spoiling the granddaughter. We may not have done everything right, but we keep plugging away and try to keep everyone happy and on an even keel.

A big event at Fort Harrod State Park – Bark in the Park - just took place last weekend (May 14th). The Community of Mercer County Writers - my writing group - has written our 2nd volume of "Prose and Poetry for Pets" and we sold them for $5 each. All proceeds go to the Mercer County Humane Society, the charity of choice for our group. Even though it rained cats and dogs - pun intended - there were several people who ventured out. Trying to keep our tent above water was our major problem.

May also brought us Mother’s Day near the beginning of the month (May 8th). This is the first Mother's Day without my mother, Brenda Sallee; I really didn't handle it well, hiding in the house and wanting to be alone. My mother-in-law, Christine Holtzclaw Rightmyer, is a special lady and I am blessed to have her in my life. I thank God everyday that she brought Keith into my life.

Even though my Momma's first Angel Day is on the 23rd and I can't believe she has been gone one year, May is shaping up to be an exciting, memorable month,. It will be a time of great joy and happiness, grief and sadness and I look forward to making lots of new memories. Reconnecting with family and friends should be a priority this year, so why not plan some special events with your loved ones. Time is only getting shorter, so make the most of it while you still can. Remember, memories live on forever.

Pebbles

2011-04-07T15:03:00.008-04:00

The loss of a family pet can have a major impact on your lives, it is like losing a member of the family. About five years, our family experienced the death of our beloved dog, Pebbles. Although we have lost many pets over the years — mice, hamsters, fish, gerbils, iguana, cats — losing Pebbles was the first dog Christine had ever lost and she was taking it very hard.

Pebbles was adopted from the Mercer County Humane Society in 1997 — Christine was about five at the time, so the two of them have grown up together. Pebbles was a Sheltie-mix and she was approximately one year old when she came to live with us. Keith had seen a picture of this cute dog in the Harrodsburg Herald and the next day he and Christine went to check it out. It was love at first sight and they adopted her on the spot. He took a picture of Pebbles to bring home and show the rest of the family because it would be two days before she was ready to come home.

Christine picked out the name Pebbles after the Flintstone’s Pebbles and Bam-Bam. Amber and Marie were also excited about the new addition to the family; they had been wanting a dog and we just kept putting it off because we had an indoor cat. Pogo was Keith’s cat and she didn’t warm up to new people or animals easily. After Keith and I got married, it took a long time before Amber and Marie were able to even get near Pogo to pet her, much less pick her up. We were afraid a dog would throw her into shock. We lost Pogo over 20 years ago — she was over 18-years-old.

It didn’t take Pebbles long to become one of the family. She was most attracted to Marie, although she loved to be around all of us. After the first few weeks, Pebbles was not the same skinny dog we had originally brought home. She was happy and healthy and had put on some weight. Apparently, Pebbles had come from an abusive situation, because she had a tendency to “cow down” whenever anyone raised their voice.

I could never get Pebbles to come to me when I would call for her — she always seemed to run in the opposite direction when I would call her. But she would always come to Keith’s call or whistle. Pebbles would do almost anything Keith would tell her to do, with the exception of getting her to stay down at meal time.

Pebbles loved table scraps and she was not above begging everyone for a bite. We knew table scraps were probably not good for her, but she loved them so much. We also had a hard time keeping her out of the cat food, even though she always had food in her dish — she would always sneak back and finish up whatever the cats had not eaten.

Even though she would not come to me when I called her, Pebbles would follow me around the house like a shadow. Whenever I was home she would slept at my feet or follow me from room to room—even the bathroom. Pebbles could be a nuisance at times, but we all loved her and we could tell that she loved us.

Pebbles would get so excited when it was time to go outside. She would jump and prance around the door waiting for someone to open it. Then she would charge out the door like the Calvary coming to the rescue. She would run several laps around the front yard just as fast as her legs would let her. She would sometimes bark and root her nose into the ground.

Pebbles was a wonderful guard dog because she would bark at any noise she would hear outside. Once she became used to friends or relatives coming to visit, she would become excited to she them — running to the person or trying to jump up on them. The jumping up on people was something we were still working on with Pebbles, but we weren’t having much success.

Over years, Christine and Pebbles became the best of friends and you could tell they loved being with each other. Sometimes Christine would but the leash on Pebbles’ collar and take her for a walk, other times they would just run and romp in the backyard or the back field. I can still see Christine rolling around on the lawn with Pebbles jumping on her, trying to lick her face.

When Pebbles died, we still had three indoor cats, but Christine missed Pebbles. She immediately started to talk about finding a replacement dog. Although there is no substitute for Pebbles, it would be nice to have another guard dog. We are trying to put Christine off — we wanted her to get over the initial shock of losing her first dog before we become attached to another one.

Pebbles is buried in our pet cemetery, along with Pogo the cat, Tully the bird and Snowball the rabbit, WeeHawk the cat, and several more I cannot recall. I will occasionally see Christine near the pet cemetery and my heart aches for her sadness. We have a new dog now - Rusty - and even though he is a great guard dog and Christine loves him, he is no replacement for Pebbles. Pebbles will always remain in our hearts.

Buildings of Days Gone By

2011-02-03T05:05:00.001-05:00

(Photos by Dan Felstead of Wood and Pixel Narratives)

In recent months, I have been so proud of all the improvements going on in downtown Harrodsburg. Historic buildings are being refurbished and repainted and new businesses continue to struggle along in the struggling economy. Even older businesses are beginning to join in the remaking process.

Three of my favorite businesses on Main Street are Studio G, Beehive Gifts and Kentucky Fudge Company. The first two are longtime businesses and continue to attract new customers every day. The Fudge Company may be a new face in downtown, but it is fast becoming a favorite spot in Harrodsburg.

Studio G – owned and operated by Goldie Goldsmith-Vigneri – offers instructions and seminars for men and women fours years old and up. Pageant training, vocal and acting lessons, and confidence building are just a tiny portion of what is offered at Studio G. In addition to lessons, Studio G can also be rented for private birthday parties, meetings, dinners, weddings and casino nights.

Beehive Gifts – owned and operated by Jim and Shirley Sprague – is a wonderful gift shop and great place to find all types of collectibles. Boyds Bears, Willow Tree Angels, Precious Moments, Tim Wolfe Sculptures, and Cherished Teddies are all available for purchase. Beehive Gifts also offers several different lines of candles, including Yankee, Bridgewater, Candleberry, and Woodwick. If you are having trouble finding the perfect gift, Beehive Gifts will offer the ideal suggestions.

Kentucky Fudge Company – owned and operated by Tim and Jennifer Kazimer - is located in the historic Dedman’s Drugstore. In addition to the yummy homemade fudge, Kentucky Fudge Company also offers an assortment of ice cream treats from cones to milkshakes to sundaes. The café offers a different soup of the day, as well as the Harrodsburger, chicken salad, olive nut loaf and several other sandwich options.

As I reminisce about my favorite Harrodsburg locations, I have a sobering reality of the historical places disappearing from our landscape, most notably the Mercer County Court House. I understand the need for more space in the Mercer judicial system, but watching the demolition of the court house has been very sad. I drive through down town Harrodsburg every weekday on my way to work, so I have watched the deconstruction of this building with a heavy heart.

This also reminds me of the destruction of the Hat Factory several years ago. Until its demolition in 2003, the old St. Andrews convent – known as the Hat Factory – was the oldest residence in Harrodsburg. Although the ROC building owned by the Harrodsburg Baptist Church has been a huge success, I can’t help but wonder what our ancestors would think about our practice of tearing down a historic building to put up a gymnasium.

Most rural grocery stores have totally disappeared, only to be replaced by convenience stores with gas pumps. Two of my favorite stores, Purvis’ and Peavler’s, both ceased to operate while I was still a little girl. The building for Purvis’ Grocery was totally removed, replaced by the Mooreland Avenue entrance into Mr. Kwik. Peavler’s Grocery was located on Magnolia Street, and although the building is still standing, it is a sad reminder of our past. Other small stores I miss were located in Bohon, Duncan, and Antioch.

Driving through the country, I also notice the many barns and outbuildings slowing falling into decay from lack of use. Tobacco barns and cattle barns with roofs falling in or lumber falling off, they are pictorial reminders of a life gone by. Occasionally you can still see old outhouses, smokehouse, spring houses and root cellars, but these are also disappearing with each day that goes by. Along with the shrinking of family farms, along goes the buildings that made small farming possible. I recently heard someone call old barns, “the graying bones of our past;” poetic, but true.

Even the gas station where my father used to work is long gone. Once located at the intersection of Mackville and Perryville Roads, I have so many fond memories of visiting the gas station and being treated to a cold Coke from the old fashion machine. The old Mercer Roller Rink building is still standing, albeit vacant expect for one week during the year. When the Grand Old Mercer County Fair and Horse Show comes to town, the old roller rink is turned into the pride of Mercer County with the many exhibitors of the Floral Hall.

The Harrodsburg City Pool is now nothing but memories – I actually cried when the pool and building was torn down. I spent so much of my childhood swimming in the pool and sunbathing on the decks overlooking the Salt River. Now the pool is only a memory and my children will never know the joys it could bring.

SHADOWS OF MY PAST

2011-01-05T05:36:00.000-05:00

Five years ago I was a happy, energetic married mother of three beautiful daughters, and although I am still happily married with three beautiful daughters, but I was no longer happy or energetic.

When my baby sister died in January 2005, my life went downhill fast, into a swirling, liquid, non-stop flight of depression and grief. I eventually quit my job as a Registered Nurse because I was suddenly unhappy with my work – or was it because my sister had been in nursing school and we had plans of her joining me at the hospital where I worked? Although I don't regret leaving my job for a single minute, I have isolated myself away from the world, surrounding myself into a cocoon of grief.

I used to love working in my gardens, but the past five years, my poor gardens have been terribly neglected because I haven't had the energy or desire to take care of them. My home is also not as clean, my meals not as delectable, and my volunteer work has blown to the wayside.

My wonderful hubby accepted me for who I was and loved me unconditionally, but I knew he was worried about me. The same goes for my three daughters – gone was the mother who participated in every aspect of her children’s lives, replaced by the shell of a mother who was just barely hanging on.

Up until about four years ago, I was the "take charge" person in every crisis, methodically working through the problems to find the right solution. Only after the crisis was over and everything was going back to normal did I allow myself a moment of panic. But since the death of my sister, the "take chargedness" has left me. Suddenly I am a person who falls apart at the first little hint of trouble, and when things really get bad, I melt down and have to go to sleep. Sleep is my new coping mechanism, protecting me from having to deal with situations or problems that cause me great stress.

For the past five years, I have been running from life - running from the grief of my sister's death. Her passing left a huge crater in my heart and it has been difficult to leap over the wide expanse of pain. My family has given me space – given me time to come to terms with my heartache and for that, I will always be grateful.

Just when I think I’m ready to jump back into the real world, my mother dies. For three weeks, on and off, she was in and out of the hospital and with the exception of one night, I stayed with her every night. If I hadn’t stayed, my Dad would not have left her sight and I knew he needed his rest. And after all, I had been a nurse for 20 years.

Again the pain and grief came crashing down on me. The only difference is my Momma had been sick for a long time, and I was comforted by the fact she was no longer in pain. I miss her terribly, even still pick up the phone to try and call her before I remember, I won’t be able to talk to her again for a long time.

My bottomless pit of misery didn’t last as long this time, probably for two reasons. The first is as soon as I realized how sick my Momma was, I worked with my psychiatrist to change my medications to help me deal with the depression, anxiety and anti-social behavior that still plaque my life. I knew I would be in and out of hospitals, so my anxiety had to be more under control so I could be more in control. The second reason, I think, is because my sister’s death was so sudden, unexpected; she had just turned her life around. Amy had changed her life; Momma was very sick.

Now it is time for me to begin living again. This year I am trying harder to pull my life together and enjoy the small things in life. Last year at my husband’s encouragement, I signed up for a writing workshop at my local public library. This was one of the best things to happen in my life for several years.

Not only did this workshop jumpstart my writing career, it has made a huge difference in my attitude on life and has given me a network of other writers to lean on. For someone with a severe anxiety disorder and phobia of being in large groups of people, I have been forcing myself to participate in public readings.
To say these activities scare me to death is an understatement, but I can actually see myself growing as a person and a writer, instead of always hiding in the shadow. I realize that in order to introduce myself back into society, I am going to have to put effort into going out in public.

After five years of self-deprecating pain and grief, I am now running toward life with new hopes and dreams. I'm still struggling, but the baby steps are turning into toddler steps and for the first time, I'm catching glimpses of my former self.
The shadows of my past are still leave scars upon my soul, but some are lightened with age; some are still fresh like a huge, gaping wound. The trials and tribulations which have shaped my life have been a mixture of feelings and hope, emotions and tears, lessons and sins. I have clawed my way up from the inside out, testing and trying to find the right way, hoping the shadow of painful memories will stop cutting me too sharply. I’m learning to stand tall again, learning to live life again and learning the mysterious lessons presented in my life.

Favorite Dolls and Christmas

2010-12-29T06:03:00.008-05:00

Growing up in the late 1960s and early 70s, dolls were one of my favorite things; they are probably the favorite toy of most girls all over the world. All I ever wanted to be was a wife and mother, so dolls were my childhood playmates, and a way to let my maternal side show.

Aunt Virginia Ann, my Momma’s sister, got me a baby doll in the mid-1960s and I cherished her for years. I honestly don’t remember what happened to my baby doll, but within a few years Barbie and Skipper had taken over my life. My babysitter’s daughter had a Barbie trunk with all types of Barbie and Skipper clothes and accessories. During the summers I could spend all day playing with these dolls and clothes, as well as my own. When school started again in the fall, I played with all my Barbies after school; that is until reading entered my life. I was so proud of my Barbie clothes because my Granny Devine had made many of the outfits. I only have one of the “polyester” dresses my Granny made for my Barbies and I still have my very first Barbie.

My most memorable Christmas centered around one toy, which I still treasure today. The entire Harrodsburg family was at my Granny Devine’s house and after a huge meal, my Aunt began to hand presents to me and my brother and sister. I was around eight or nine years old and I couldn’t wait to tear into my package, but as usual, we had to wait until everyone had a present before we could open anything. Ready, set, go…away we went, ripping the paper and ribbons. I loved all my presents, but this year held a delightful surprise. Granny had given me a china doll…my very first china doll. She was so beautiful with porcelain black hair on top of her creamy porcelain face, with blue eyes, just like mine, and pink rosy cheeks. Her dress was pink with tiny white polka dots and she had a matching bonnet on her head. She even had a crinoline skirt and petticoat underneath her dress. I was ecstatic! It was such a grown up present and I was so happy my Granny thought I was old enough to have my first china doll.

This was 1970 or 1971, but I can still remember the excitement of this particular Christmas Eve. When the present were all finally opened and the wrapping and ribbons cleaned up, the kids watched television while the adults talked. This particular year, I took a long hot bubble bath in Granny’s miniature bathroom and changed into the new pajamas my Aunt had given me; new pajamas were a must for Christmas. I was all ready to go home to bed so I could wait for Old Saint Nick. I couldn’t wait to rush my parents home so I could jump into bed, listening to every creak of the house, just knowing that Santa would arrive at any minute. As for my china doll, Miss Betsy, she is still one of most treasured possessions. She holds a place of honor in my glass cabinet where I can glance at her every day. All three of my daughters have several china dolls apiece, but they never cared for dolls as much as I do. My dolls are a significant part of my heritage and, although I have had many china dolls since Miss Betsy, none will ever remind me of Christmas, or my Granny Devine, like this one special doll.

Momma also loved dolls, although her obsession started when she was much older. Whenever she would go shopping or was on vacation, she would find another doll for her collection. At the time of her death, she had two china cabinets filled with porcelain dolls and stuffed Boyd’s bears. What I like about her dolls is the fact they all have real hair; I always wished Miss Betsy had real hair so I could brush it. Most of my girl’s china dolls also have hair, but as I said, they never seemed interested in the dolls. It took Momma about five years before she realized my girl’s had no desire to have a doll collection. Most of these dolls are put away, and when my grandchildren get older, I will give the back to their mothers. Some of my dolls are 40 years old, but the girl’s dolls are from 10 to 25 years old; what a collectable “hand-me-down” these dolls will be.

Aunt Joyce, my Daddy’s sister, also has a large doll collection. Here dolls are all over the house and in the bedrooms. Several of these dolls I recognize because Momma would have one just like it. As with Momma’s dolls, my aunt’s dolls mostly have hair, and they all are very beautiful.

Another person in my life who loves dolls is Mrs. Gertrude Reed of Harrodsburg. Gertrude’s daughter is in the process of having her mother’s old dolls restored. One that is my favorite, is a doll with a porcelain head and stuffed body and she rides in a little wicker stroller. Gertrude said her sister had a duplicate doll in a stroller, but she couldn’t remember if it is still around. Gertrude, or rather her daughter, also had several other of her old dolls refinished, and she is happy to show them off when she is feeling well enough.

I still love my dolls, even though I do not play with them anymore. I will occasionally take one out of the cabinet and just sit and hold her. Every doll I own brings back certain memories, most are good memories, but I do have one or two bad memories mainly because of the person who gave them to me. I can’t wait to see if my grandchildren are going to love dolls. The youngest is only six months old, so she is much too little to show an interest; the other will soon be three years old, but right now she loves all kinds of toys

What dolls or old toys do you have lurking in your attic or basement? You never know what item you will find from your past. These things would make wonderful keepsakes for your loved ones. Anything you hand down to another person will have its own heritage, but it will bring precious memories of loved ones you’ve lost.

My Library Memories

2010-10-29T14:28:00.000-04:00

I can remember the first time I went to the Mercer County Public Library, it was still located in historic Morgan Row. The building was old and this was in the late 1960s, so the wooden floors squeaked as you walked across them. Although the building held only a limited number of books, it was like the church sanctuary to me. I felt calm and at peace and free to touch and look at all the old books.

I didn’t get to go to the library much when it moved to the corner of Lexington and Main Street, but I did use the Bookmobile. I can’t remember what day the Bookmobile came to Riverview, but I always had a list of books I was looking for. Many times the Bookmobile Librarian would recommend a new book, but more times than not, she would have to bring the books I wanted back to me in two weeks.

As an elementary student, my favorite library was at Mercer County Elementary School. Ms. Joy Gash instilled the love of books and reading into my heart and I’ll forever be grateful to her. She always knew the perfect books to choose for me and many times would quiz me on what I had read. Even at this early age, I grew an attachment to certain books and when I started my own home library, these were the books I started with. “A Wrinkle in Time,” “Little Women,” “Are You There God, It’s Me, Margaret,” and the “Betsy” books were just a few of my favorites. I never was much for Nancy Drew, but I loved Trixie Belden.

It was my babysitter’s daughter who got me attached to Trixie Belden. I read all her books and then had to have my own collection. These were my pride and joy and I read each one of them so many times, I knew them by heart. Momma would always take me to J. J. Newberry Department Store on Main Street to find the newest book.

When I was 16, I thought I had outgrown Trixie, so I let a neighbor girl borrow my books – I never saw them again. When I started having children of my own, I would buy Trixie Belden books to read to them, but by this time, the books were all paperback. If I’m going to have a book in my home collection, it has to be a hardcover –unless the book comes no other way.

I had the Whitman 1970s edition of the hardcover books – the original 16 books. One year for Christmas, my wonderful hubby surprised me with a boxed set of all 16 of the Trixie books, just like the ones I had. He had monitored eBay for weeks trying to find just the right editions and the most perfect condition. You could tell that the girl who owned this new set of books had loved them and read them often, because I could feel her presence in every well-worn page and gently cracked spine. This has been one of my favorite Christmas gifts ever.

When I had my first children, the library was one of the first places I took the girls when they were old enough to behave in public. At three and four-years-old, Marie and Amber would attend summer library story hour with Mrs. Kathleen Day and the girls loved it. We would check out several books for the week. It was harder to make time for the library when I started nursing school, but we made do by checking out even more books when we went.

By the time Christine was born, Marie and Amber were not as interested in reading and had quit letting me read to them at bedtime. So, I read to Christine, even though she wasn’t old enough to understand.

When Christine was old enough to attend the library story time, Mrs. Day was still there and Christine fell instantly in love with her. We couldn’t check out enough books to last a full week and we ended up making two to three trips to the library per week.

Christine loved books so much, she started to have her own favorites, just like I did. If we would check out the same book more than four or five times from the library, then we would have to try and buy this book to have at home. Sometimes these books were easy to find; others were a little harder because they were older. One example is “The Best Little Christmas Tree” – we had to have it ordered from Tony Sexton’s bookstore that used to be where the Mercer Humane Society is now. We still read this book at Christmas and it still makes me cry.

About three years ago, I started a book blog – Bobbi’s Book Nook – and would post reviews of the books I read. It is unbelievable the number of book review blogs there are on the Internet. I was shocked; I had no idea there were so many. Even though the blog was for my personal use – mainly to help me keep track of the books I had read – I soon realized I enjoyed writing books reviews. Now I have a book review column “Kentucky Monthly Magazine” and for “GoodReads.”

With the opening of the brand-new Mercer County Public Library, I feel like a little kid again. No longer creeping across creaky wooden floors, but browsing almost 10,000 square feet of books and magazine. Some people may think enlarging the library was a waste of time and money, but for avid readers like myself, it is a treasure to the versatility of our community.

Hallowed and Hushed

2010-10-08T22:43:00.004-04:00

Unknown. Hallowed and Hushed be the place of the dead. Step Softly. Bow Head.

Living in Harrodsburg my entire life, I have a sentimental attachment to Youngs Park, located on Linden Avenue, between the Mercer County Fairgrounds and James B. Haggin Memorial Hospital. I have so many memories of playing in the park, eating picnic lunches and attending family functions. My Granny Devine lived within walking distance of the park and I’ve walked the short block from her home so many times, I could walk it blindfolded.

Youngs Park has always been one of my favorite places to escape to when looking for a nice, quiet lunch. Many times I have driven behind the park to the lower picnic tables and enjoyed a sandwich while watching the antics of the squirrels. The squirrels have become so used to human contact, they will sit within easy reach of picnic tables or cars, eagerly waiting for a scrap of bread or a French fry to be thrown their way.

Many of my fondest memories of Youngs Park occurred during my Girl Scout years and our annual summer Day Camp. One week of each summer was dedicated to numerous scouting projects with a different theme for each day. I can remember tie-dying T-shirts, painting pictures, cooking over a campfire, learning how to mark trails, just to name a few activities. During the summer of 1971, our favorite song to sing – and we sang it at the tops of our voices – was Three Dog Night’s “Jeremiah Was a Bullfrog.” We thought we were so cool.
The highlight of the Day Camp would be the sleepover on Friday night. For the sleepover, the Boy Scouts would come and help us set up tents in the back portion of the park. Camping out was exciting and we looked forward to it every year. Campfires, homemade stews, and s’mores were all on the list of activities.

Another eager awaited tradition for the sleepover was the telling of ghost stories. Because most of the Girl Scouts ranged in age from 8 to 14, we were all susceptible to having the beegeezus scared out of us! And Youngs Park was the perfect backdrop for these scary stories because of the legend of the “girl who danced herself to death.”

I’ve heard the story all my life – an unknown young girl arrived at the long-gone Graham Springs Hotel and attended a lavish ball where she danced all night. She eventually danced herself to death, collapsing onto the ballroom floor at the feet of her partner. She was buried in an unknown grave on the Graham Springs property. It is only as I’ve gotten older that I’ve had the desire to check more into this legend.

Historic Graham Springs was located in the area of the current Physician’s Park and Haggin Hospital and was on the site of a natural spring. There were numerous springs in the Harrodsburg area and they were reported to have healing and restorative properties.

This Spring, that would eventually be called Graham Springs, was turned into a spa as early as 1807. In 1827, Dr. Christopher C. Graham purchased the Springs and in 1842 constructed the main hotel, Graham Springs Hotel. The hotel was a brick four-story building which Graham said would hold one thousand people.

Graham charged a fee of $20 per month to stay at the Springs and “take the waters.” Not only did guests enjoy and benefit from healing waters, they also joined in a lively social season which lasted from June until September. Balls and other entertainment occupied the guests while they drank the mineral waters. Graham claimed the waters helped to alleviate the aches and pains of people who suffered from such aliments as gout, rheumatism, dropsy, neuralgia, and “Autumnal fevers.”

Often called the “Saratoga of the West,” Graham Springs flourished until 1853, when it was sold to the United States Government for use as a military asylum for aged and invalid soldiers. Fire later destroyed main buildings and the place fell into disuse.

Sometime between 1842 and 1853, legend says a beautiful young lady appeared at the Springs. No one knew who she was, but it is rumored she came from “down South.” When arriving at the Springs, she signed the guest register with a fictitious name. After her dancing death, she became known as the “unknown lady,” although most people from Mercer County still refer to her as “the lady who danced herself to death.”

After her death and burial at the Springs, a mon-ument honoring her was erected. Currently, the tomb is located between the road and the shelter house, with a sign bearing the words:

Unknown
Hallowed and
Hushed be the
place of the dead.
Step Softly.
Bow Head.

As I child, I thought I saw the ghost of this mysterious lady on numerous occasions, but as I’ve grown older, I realize it was probably mass hysteria brought on by ghost stories around the campfire. Although, there was one night in 2004, as I was leaving work at the Haggin Hospital at three o’clock in the morning, I would swear I saw a woman dancing through the park. She appeared to be dressed in white and was walking near one of the large oak trees in the middle of the park. Thinking back, it was probably exhaustion or my mind playing tricks on me. But then again …

Added note: As recently as 2002, an article appeared in the Mercer’s Magazine claiming to have finally learned the identity of this unknown woman. This article can be read in its entirety at: http://www.angelfire.com/tn3/masterdetective2/Old_Mystery1.pdf.

Acknowledgement: I would like to thank my brother-in-law, Don Rightmyer, from the Kentucky Historical Society for helping me find information on Graham Springs.

My Favorite Cats

2010-09-03T22:39:00.000-04:00

I have always been a cat person. Don’t get me wrong, I love dogs, too, but cats are my favorite pets of all. I’ve had many cats over the years, but my first cat will always hold a special place in my heart.

When I was seven years old, my parents allowed us to have an indoor cat. I’m not sure where the little kitten came from, but she instantly became a part of our family. She was a solid white Persian cat with faint black markings on top of her head. This little bundle of white fluff was so cute and my siblings and I argued over what to name her. They wanted cutesy names like Snowball or Fluffy; I wanted something unusual. Because of the black markings on top of her head were in the shape of the letter V, I convinced my siblings the name Vee Vee was appropriate for our beloved cat. And Vee Vee she would be all through my childhood.

For those of you who have cats, you know a cat chooses her person, not the other way around. Vee Vee tolerated everyone in our family, but she loved me. She would sleep at the foot of my bed or lay on my stomach whenever I was reading.
She loved to sit on the divider between the living room and the hallway – a little half wall with spindles. She would sit very still and then swat at people with her paw, as they would walk down the hall.

Or she would hide in a corner and jump out at your ankles whenever you passed by.
Vee Vee was especially bad at Christmas time when she would try and climb the Christmas tree. In the early 1970s, most ornaments were glass and we lost quite a few ornaments because of her adventures with the tree.

By the time I was married, Vee Vee was over 10 years old and becoming slow with her old age. My brother and sister wanted a dog for a pet because Vee Vee was no longer fun to play with. I was unable to take Vee Vee with me and she was too pampered and set in her ways to start being an outdoor cat. So, Vee Vee went to live with a family friend for the remainder of her life, and she lived to the grand old age of 17. Although I’ve had many cats since that time, Vee Vee was the first and I will always remember her fondly. Rest in peace Vee Vee - 1969 – 1986.

Sassy, Queen of Sheba, came into our lives when I was going through a rough patch in my life. Pogo our beloved Siamese cat (she deserves a story all to herself) had been gone for almost six months and although we thought about getting another cat, we had not done anything about it yet. With my 39th birthday fast approaching, Keith decided this was the perfect time to find a new cat.

We first went to the Mercer County Humane Society and there were some really cute cats and kittens, but none of them seemed right. We left the shelter slightly bummed out, but still determined to find the right cat, so we headed to the Boyle County Humane Society to see what selection they had.

As soon as we entered the “cat room,” I saw her – the perfect cat for me. She looked so much like Pogo it was eerie, almost like Pogo come back to life. A gray Siamese with blue eyes and a raccoon striped tail, only she was skin and bones, not fat and fluffy like my Pogo. But as soon as this little cat stuck her paw between the cage bars, I was in love.

We were told she was found wandering the grounds of the Pioneer Playhouse and they weren't sure how old she was. When she had her adoption “operation,” the vet thought she was maybe five years old.

We brought Sassy home and within a few weeks, she was pudgy and perky and full of life. We got her a silver rhinestone collar because she was the Queen of Sheba after all, and she soon was the rule of the roost.

Although she loved my hubby the best, Sassy always knew she could come to me for a snackie-poo. She loved bits of cheese and the occasional potato chip, in addition to Arby's roast beef and popcorn. At times, she was really obnoxious if I tried to eat in front of the television, swatting my hand and trying to grab a bite.

We lost Sassy sooner than we would have like – she was only with us for seven years. We've had several cats since the loss of Pogo and then Sassy, but nothing will ever compare to my Siamese beauties. Rest in peace Sassy - 2001 – 2008.

We had a house fire last August and we lost our three house cats, so we have not been ready to bring another cat into the house. We seem to have many feral cats in our neighborhood and I have no idea where they come from. Christine does feed them, so they seem to stick around and I know we had a litter born this summer, because we could hear the tiny meows. I think it may be time to call the Mercer County Humane Society and have them trap these cats for the “Critters without Litters” program. I don’t mind having feral cats in the neighborhood because they keep the mice and vole population under control, but I don’t want the cats to multiple.

Dog Days and College Days

2010-08-06T09:39:00.000-04:00

Dog Days and College Days
By Bobbi Rightmyer

The dog days of summer have finally hit home and the heat and humidity that Kentucky is famous for is blazing forth in all her glory. Temperatures above 90 degrees, weeks and weeks without rain, and the sticky air that threatens for strangle the life from every living thing. I do not like heat. Just the least bit of heat is enough to raise my internal temperature to the boiling point. I like to be cool, or at least have some type of breeze to keep me comfortable. These days, I fell like someone is trying to smother me with a hot towel; my breath comes in labored gasps.

Dog Days of Summer (copyright Google Images)

The hot, dry weather has turned most grass lawns brown and crinkly, but it will quickly revive itself when the first rains come. I really hate to see people watering their lawns in the summer, wasting the one natural resource we are destined to lose in the next century. I do keep my tomato plants and a few flowers watered, but I use “gray” water to do this instead of fresh water from the tap or faucet.

English Plantain (copyright bdr)

Right now I have loads of English plantain flowers that I have been picking to dry for filling the bird feeders this winter. I have also been using the plantain leaves and flowers in my plantain salve – this is great for misquotes bits and for burnt fingers from cooking. It also helps to sooth and heals sunburns. I have continued cutting and drying several different grasses to add to the bird feeders in a determination to see which type of grass my birds like better, plus. The sunflowers have been slow to start due to the heat, and I may have to use grasses in my bird feeders this winter.

Queen Anne's Lace (copyright bdr)

The Queen Anne’s lace and chicory blossoms are so beautiful growing along the side of the roads and in the medians, so I’m trying to enjoy them before the county comes to mow. To me, there is noting more beautiful than the white lacy flowers of Queen Anne’s Laces hover above the delicate blooms of the purple chicory. They are like God’s gift to our little section of the world.

Chicory (copyright bdr)

Summer is a time for easy to cook meals or for firing up the backyard grill in order to keep the kitchen cool. You can through almost anything on a grill to make it taste better. Some of my favorites are corn on the cob, grilled while still in the husk; zucchini and other squashes; onions and peppers; as well as any type of meat you might enjoy. Chicken and fish are our two favorite meats to cook on a grill.

Currently, the Farmer’s Market is full of many types of healthy lettuces along with all the vegetables you need to make a wonderful salad. Romaine, Bibb, Watercress, kale, spinach, and even dandelion leaves—these all make wonderful salad starters. Just add onions, carrots, tomatoes, squash, cucumber—whatever you have growing, or quick on hand—and sprinkle with your favorite dressing and you have the perfect “house” salad. Add that half piece of leftover chicken, or extra strip of bacon, or can of tuna or salmon and you turn the house salad into the main entrée; and it is so healthy for you.

One of my favorite pastimes is watching a pair of Red-tailed Hawks soaring over the fields near our home. They apparently live in an old tree near the back of our property because we can occasionally here baby birds crying from the next. Red-tailed Hawks are beautiful birds to watch as they float high above the trees, gliding gracefully through the air.

Red-tailed hawk catching a snake for supper (copyright Google Images)

Mammals make up the majority of the Hawks diet, including voles, rats, mice, rabbits, squirrels and snakes. Many times you can see a mouse or a snake grasped firmly in their razor sharp talons, helping to keep down the varmint population. They will also eat other birds: starlings, blackbirds, bobwhites and pheasants. Personally, they can have all the starlings they want.

Christine and Hubby making "funny faces" at high school graducation (copyright bdr)

I guess the reason I’m rambling on about the dog days of summer is because I’m trying to keep my mind off the fact my baby will be leaving me at the end of the month. Christine will be moving to Berea the last full week of August and I’m trying – without success – not to think about it. I realize she will only be less than 90 minutes away, but with very few exceptions, we have never been apart for so long. Granted, she will be coming home some weekends, but I am going to miss our daily talks and all the sarcastic remarks she makes to me – only in jest. My grandbabies and great niece will help to fill the void, but it won’t take the place of seeing Christine’s smiling face every day.

My little Tadpole doing "Itsy-Bitsy Spider" (copyright bdr) - 4 weeks old

So, get outside and enjoy the dog days of summer. Relish the bright sunshine and beautiful flowers all around you, chase a few lightning bugs and spray each one with a water hose. The days are already beginning to slow down and night is creeping earlier and earlier into our days. Old man winter will soon be knocking at our doors.

What Can We Say?

2010-06-24T09:53:00.001-04:00

This is a poem in memory of my mother
Brenda Carolyn Devine Sallee
November 6, 1944 – May 23, 2010

What Can We Say

We learned about love from you, Momma,
by watching your caring ways.
You let us know your endless love
in so many different ways.

We learned all we know about living
because you always gave life your all.
Your unfailing love was without limit,
as was your ability to soothe our hurts.

We learned about joy from you
in many fun-filled yesterdays.
You made us feel important
with endless encouragement and praise.

From you we learned forgiveness,
of faults both big and small.
With open arms and open heart,
you were gentle and yet so strong.

From you we learned to comfort and care,
but your lessons stopped not with family.
You loved your patients and loved your friends
and never said "No" to any calls for help.

Momma, we look at you and see a walking miracle;
you were our teacher and our comforter,
our cheerleader and our rock.
Your unselfishness kept us anchored,
every hour of every day.
You were dependable and full of comfort,
our cushion when we'd fall.

You helped in times of trouble,
though we sometimes caused you pain;
it mattered not what we did,
you supported us all the same.

How did you find the energy, Momma,
to do all the things you did;
to be teacher, nurse and counselor,
and full of inexhaustible love?

Nobody's quite like you, Momma;
you were special in every way.
You cheered us up, you filled our cups
with tenderness, come what may.

Nobody loved us more than you,
no matter what we did;
good or bad, happy or sad,
you were full of unconditional love.

Nobody's equal to you, Momma,
you truly blessed our lives.
We love you so and want you to know,
you were the absolute best.

We know we were all in your thoughts,
your love followed us everyday.
Thank you for all you've done
and given so generously.

We love you, our wonderful Momma,
you will be our blessing from above.
You set us free and steered us straight.
We'll miss you come what may.
The examples you have shown us
and the lessons we have learned
will remain in all our hearts
until we see you again one day.

The Memories of May

2010-05-06T10:39:00.001-04:00

Where has the year gone? Just yesterday we were celebrating the holidays and now I’m planning for my daughter’s graduation from high school. My Granny Devine always did say time speeded up as you got older, and now I’m seeing this is so true.

While I’m not a hot weather, summer person, I am glad to finally leave the cold days of winter behind. Too many days of sub-zero weather has made my joints ache and creak, so I’m ready for a change. Warmer weather means more time in the garden, more time to walk and more time to soak up the daylight. The month of May is the perfect time to shed our winter skins and slip into the latest summer fashions. After months of cabin fever and overwhelming darkness, you feel an almost rebirth at the excess of sunshine and warmth.

May has always been a transition month for my family. We are transitioning from the long winter and spring into the warmth of summer and from school to summer break. We are transitioning from slow time, early darkness and structured schedules to fast time, later sunsets and relaxed casualness. We say goodbye to prime-time television, large pots of chili and blue jeans with sneakers and say hello to drive-in movies, salad from the Farmer's Market and shorts with flip flops. This year, May is bringing some major milestones to my family and signs of change are everywhere.

As I mentioned earlier, Christine will be graduating from Mercer County Senior High this month and it’s a happy and sad event, all rolled up into one. Where has the time gone? My household is growing smaller and smaller every minute and it's a shock to the system. While I am extremely proud of Christine's accomplishments, it is going to be so sad when she is gone.
I cannot believe I will no longer have any children in the local school system. Christine has been offered a full four-year scholarship to Berea College and she is excited to get started on her college career. As we wade through paper work and make lists of everything she will need to take with her, my heart is feeling a little sad. She will be moving to Berea in August and I realize this is only a short distance away, but it is going to be strange to not have her close to me. What am I supposed to do without a child in the house?

I am so incredibly proud of all three of my daughters – I could not have asked for three better girls if I had tried to order them from a catalog. They are all intelligent and responsible adults and they fill my life with joy. Next month, we will be adding a new granddaughter to our family, so we will have another girl to dote on and spoil rotten. Devon Mikayla is already a special girl and she will have us all wrapped right around her little finger.

May 19th is a special day for Keith and I – it will be our 20th wedding anniversary. We have been together for 24 years and are happy to be celebrating such a great milestone. Like most couples, we have had our ups and downs, our sicknesses and health, our richer and poorer, but we have created a unique family with strong ties and our bond is even stronger today than it was 20 years ago. We have raised three beautiful, intelligent daughters and they are our pride and joy and we are both looking forward to spoiling the grandchildren. We may not have done everything right, but we keep plugging away and try to keep everyone happy and on an even keel.

Of course, May also brings us Mother’s Day, and although I only think of myself as an average mom, I am blessed with two extraordinary mothers. My mother, Brenda Sallee, has always been there to encourage me and keep me on the straight and narrow. She is a special lady and I can never thank her enough for everything she has done for me. My mother-in-law, Christine Holtzclaw Rightmyer, is also a special lady and I am blessed to have her in my life. I thank God everyday that she brought Keith into my life. is also a great lady and I am so thankful she brought my hubby into my life.

A big event my writing group – The Community of Mercer County Writers – is hosting this year will be on May 8th and we hope it will become an annual event. We are partnering with the Mercer County Humane Society to present “Prose and Poetry for Pets.” This will be on the block of Main Street near the Humane Society and The Harrodsburg Herald and will start at 11am. There will be lots of activities: pet paintings, poetry and prose readings, food vendors, pet adoptions and other animal relate activities. The Community of Mercer County Writers has published a chapbook - “Prose and Poetry for Pets” - which they will be selling for $5, with all proceeds going to the Mercer County Humane Society.

As you can see, May is shaping up to be an exciting, memorable month. It will be a time of great joy and happiness, and I look forward to making lots of new memories. Reconnecting with family and friends should be a priority this year, so why not plan some special events with your loved ones. Time is only getting shorter, so make the most of it while you still can. Remember, memories live on forever.

Harrodsburg Born and Raised

2010-04-02T10:44:00.000-04:00

Downtown Harrodsburg, Kentucky

Harrodsburg – what does it mean to you? Is this historic town just a stepping-stone in your life, or is it a life-long destination?

I was born and have live all of my almost 48 years within the boundaries of Mercer County – all but four of these within a five-mile radius of downtown Harrodsburg. I have seen the ups and downs and many of the times in between, and my love for this town only grows with each passing year.

When I was a child growing up in Riverview, most of my world revolved around our small neighborhood. My friends were there and we spent many hours playing together and planning our futures. The Harrodsburg City Pool was a popular spot and I spent glorious summer days splashing in the cool water and soaking up the sun. Back in the 1970s, we didn’t appreciate the dangers of long days spent in the hot sun. I was always tanned to a golden brown – “brown as a berry” as my Granny used to say. Actually, now that I’m older, I’m not sure what kind of berry is brown, and if it is, it is probably well past its peak.

Family weekends were usually spent together and while I enjoyed camping trips and Sunday afternoons at the beach, my favorite times were spent locally. During summer nights we would pile in the car and head to Twin Hills Drive-In to watch a movie or two. I learned to lock Chuck Norris, Charles Bronson and Clint Eastwood movies, and to me, Roger Moore will always be Bond, James Bond. The good, the bad and everything between – the fun of the drive-in was being together as a family and visiting with friends in the twilight before the movies began.

Another weekend activity was Friday and Saturday skate nights at the Mercer Roller Rink. I loved to skate, but more importantly, I liked to show off my mediocre skating skills. To this day, hearing the Jackson 5 song, “Rockin’ Robin” always makes me think of skate night at the roller rink.

By the time I was 16, my family had moved to the, then new, Cherokee Heights neighborhood. Many of my summer and weekend nights were then spent cruising the loop between McDonalds and Mr. Kwik. Now a days, the cruising route has changed to the Diary Queen end of town, but cruising is still a Harrodsburg tradition, as it is in most small towns.

For four months during the summer of 1981, I lived in downtown Cornishville and I loved every minute of it. I was still within the boundaries of Mercer County, but I felt like I was a million miles away from civilization. During this time, I worked at Anne’s Hallmark, so I made the trek into town at least five days a week. I enjoyed meeting and seeing the residents of Harrodsburg and being in town kept me close to the city’s heart. Weekends in the 1980s were usually spent at the home of our good friends, Sandra and Anthony Godbey, playing cards and talking all night.

In 1987, I moved to the center of Harrodsburg and this was the first time I had ever lived “in town.” I raised Amber and Marie in a tiny four-room house as I put myself through college. It was during these tough years I came to love Harrodsburg even more. As a single mother, I depended on cheap entertainment, so we sought out all the opportunities Harrodsburg had to offer. The Picnic in the Park became a favorite place on Fridays during the summer. We would pack our lunch, pick a bouquet of flowers and walk to Old Fort Harrod. Once at the park, we would eat, enjoy the week’s entertainment and then climb on the Osage Orange tree.

During this time in my life, we all grew to love the Grand Ole Mercer County Fair and Horseshow. Amber and Marie loved to paint, draw and make other crafts to enter in the 4-H show and Floral Hall, and I even got into the spirit by entering a few of my handmade items. When August would roll around, we couldn’t wait for Pioneer Days. The girls loved entering the Pet Show, visiting the arts and crafts booths, and watching the cloggers on Main Street. September used to bring Oktoberfest at Old Fort Harrod and the girls looked forward to the Wooly Worm Races and Osage Orange Crochet. The Night of the Great Pumpkin is the only event still ongoing in Harrodsburg and it always meant homemade costumes and decorated pumpkins. Following on the heels of Halloween would be the Holiday Gala at the Fort. The special essence of this night was seeing the hundreds of luminaries lining the park, taking candlelit tours of the cabins and stopping for hot apple cider in the museum. Christmas in Harrodsburg used to mean downtown, horse drawn carriage rides in addition to the parade.

Since 1993, I have lived four miles from downtown. I’ve seen two daughters grow up and move on to their own lives and I have one more ready to leave the nest. Although Harrodsburg has changed dramatically over the years, it will always be home to me. I’m proud of the improvements I see every day on Main Street – with the exception of the huge “hole” where the Courthouse used to proudly stand. I’m proud of the businesses that have moved into the area to give Harrodsburg a try, but I’m sad at the historic buildings we have lost along the way.

I don’t like to hear people complain about my town; all the complaints of “There’s nothing to do here,” made me mad. If people don’t like the lack of entertainment or shopping malls, then they should move somewhere else. I like the quiet, historic atmosphere of Harrodsburg – it is what keeps me here. I’m proud of Harrodsburg’s history, and while I also think progress can be a good thing, I think the progress in our town should be toward preservation, not expansion. After all, I’m proudly born and raised in Harrodsburg, the oldest settlement west of the Allegany Mountains.

Kids and Disney

2010-03-04T10:05:00.000-05:00

Like most children, my girls grew up loving Disney movies and Disney characters. Amber loved “The Little Mermaid,” Marie loved “The Lion King,” and Christine loved and still loves “Lilo and Stitch.” Most Disney movies were fair game for everyone and our family has a group of favorites – “101 Dalmatians,” “Peter Pan,” “Dumbo,” and “Fantasia.” Although Amber and Marie loved the Disney Princesses, Christine has never been into the foo-foo characters, preferring instead to follow “Alice in Wonderland,” “Winnie the Pooh,” or “Mulan.”

When I was little, I enjoyed watching “The Wonderful World of Walt Disney” on Sunday nights with my family. “Swiss Family Robinson,” “Old Yeller,” “The Scarecrow,” “The Parent Trap” and “Treasure Island” were some of the many programs we watched as a family. Naturally, this was many years before the invention of VCRs or DVD players, so we popped popcorn ahead of time and had our drinks ready before the beginning of each show. Commercial breaks meant bathroom breaks and with only one bathroom, there was usually a mad scramble to see who could get to the bathroom first.

I didn’t get my first VCR until Marie and Amber were 3 and 5 years old, but owning a VCR didn’t mean I could afford to buy movies. We would rent movies almost every Friday night and the girl’s preferences were always Disney or other animated movies. “Pinocchio” was one of the very first Disney movies released on VHS, so it became a mutual favorite, but before long, we were renting “Rainbow Brite,” “Care Bears” and “Dr. Snuggles.”

By the time Christine was born, Marie and Amber were 8 and 10 years old, and we were starting to amass a large collection of VHS movies, with Disney remaining a favorite. During this phase in our family life, I was working 12-hour night shifts, so I’m ashamed to admit, my girls watched lots of movies for entertainment, mainly because I wasn’t home to supervise, but they also watched movies when I was home because I was always so busy. I can probably sing you songs or recite lines from most of their favorite movies because they were always on in the background - I may not have been watching, but I was always listening.

Like most families, my girls grew up and soon Disney movies were replaced with films about teen anguish, romance or horror. I found myself wishing we could leave the teenage years behind and return to the happy, carefree days of early childhood. We continued to have family movie night, but it was becoming increasingly harder to find movies we all agreed on.

Deterring a moment from my theme of Disney movies, my hubby and Christine have almost the same interest when it come to the make-up of a movie. Where I go to a movie purely for escapism and entertainment, they can tell you everything about a movie – the director, the producers, the main actors, the production team, when the film was released, where it was filmed, and the list goes on and on. They are like a walking encyclopedia of movies, my own personal Internet Movie Database (IMDb).

Fast forward to present day and 2010 is shaping up to be a memorable year for our family. Not only are we expecting our first grandbaby – a little girl due in June – but also our youngest daughter will be heading off to college. Even though Christine is finishing up her senior year and making grand plans for the fall, she is also having a resurgence of nostalgia for Disney movies. She has begun her own collection of DVDs with all her favorites; she even has a list of release dates for Disney movies so she is watching for her favorites. She has even invested in a few “stuff animals” for her room, with the newest addition being a large blue Stitch from “Lilo and Stitch.” She is looking forward to sharing her love of Disney with her new little niece.

I have a feeling I will be “knee-deep” in Disney movies again in a few years when my granddaughter, and future grandchildren, will discover their own love of the Disney classics. Some things just never go out of fashion, and in our family the Disney brand is firmly entrenched in our memories.

Dead Skunk in the Middle of the Road

2010-02-04T10:46:00.006-05:00

Ah, after a long cold winter, spring is finally in the air. All around us is the sweet, aromatic fragrance of ... skunk. Yep, that's right, it's skunk mating season again! This is the time of year when skunks seem to come out of the wood works and they end up ... splatted on the side of the road.

I swear, I drive less than five miles into town to go to work, and there were at least 8 dead skunks along the way. Some of them were on the sides of the road, some in the middle of the road. All those dead skunks makes me think of the old 70s song, *"Dead Skunk in the Middle of the Road" by Loudon Wainwright.

"Crossin' the highway late last night
He shoulda looked left and he shoulda looked right
He didn't see the station wagon car
The skunk got squashed and there you are!
You got yer
Dead skunk in the middle of the road
Dead skunk in the middle of the road
You got yer dead skunk in the middle of the road
Stinkin' to high Heaven!"

Skunks are mammals best known for their ability to secrete a liquid with a strong, foul-smelling odor. Also known as "polecats" in many regions, skunks are actually a form of weasel known as Carnivora. Naturally, the word Carnivora refers to any meat-eating mammal, but skunks not only eat meat, they also eat many forms of plants, changing their diet with the seasons. It is the skunk's omnivorous diet that leads them to garbage cans in many urban areas. They have also been known to enter garages and out-buildings, especially of people who own pets because skunks have developed a taste for cat and dog food. They also like to lounge under porches, away from prying eyes.

A few years ago, Christine and I decided to take a paper route during the summer and although we delivered papers every afternoon, Monday through Friday, we also had to deliver at 3am on Sunday mornings. On these early morning deliveries, my wonderful hubby usually went with us. Of course, out in the county we saw all kinds of wildlife, but one of our routes was in the heart of Harrodsburg and we were privy to all kinds of nocturnal life roaming the city streets. I swear, there was one skunk that was in the same yard week after week after week – it must have been his home territory.

Skunks must be creatures of habit because we usually knew exactly where the skunks would be. They had a tendency to be in the same areas every Sunday morning and these were the homes we always used a flashlight to light the sidewalks. Once you've been startled by a skunk standing two feet in front, you learn to be careful about where you step.

Considering the number of dead skunks that line highways and roads during mating season, you would think skunks run in packs, but skunks are solitary creatures during the warm months of the year. During colder winter months, they will also seek shelter in the crawl spaces of homes or under porches close to a house's foundation. They will dig burrows for dens, or occasionally inhabit man-made or natural hallows.

Most people think skunks hibernate during the winter, but they are not true hibernators. They go through long dormant periods, but venture out every few weeks to find food. Female skunks may "den up" together for warmth, but males prefer to den alone. Mating season usually begins in late January and ramps into high gear by the middle of February.

Skunks range in appearance from species to species - some are black-and-white and some are brown or cream colored. Although they have an extraordinary sense of smell and hearing, they have very poor eyesight. This may account for the number of dead skunks on the roadways - the poor little things can see the huge motor vehicles coming. Skunks also have an extremely short life span, with very few living over three years.

"Take a whiff on me, that ain't no rose!
Roll up yer window and hold yer nose
You don't have to look and you don't have to see
'Cause you can feel it in your olfactory"

Anyone who has ever had a run in with a skunk will know that the most notorious feature of skunks is their anal scent glands, which they use as a defensive weapon. These glands produce a mixture of sulfur-containing chemicals which give off a highly offensive "rotten egg" smell. They can spray up to 15 feet away and the odor of the fluid is strong enough to ward off bears and other potential attackers and can be very hard to remove from clothing

"Yeah you got yer dead cat and you got yer dead dog
On a moonlight night you got yer dead toad frog
Got yer dead rabbit and yer dead raccoon
The blood and the guts they're gonna make you swoon!
Dead skunk in the middle of the road
Stinkin' to high heaven!
All over the road, Technicolor man!
Oh, you got pollution
It's dead, it's in the middle
And it's stinkin' to high, high Heaven."

So, when you're driving down a country lane on a warm spring night and are overcome with an intense feeling of nausea, chances are it's the overwhelming scent of "od 'de skunk" wafting through the air. Ah, springtime in Kentucky ...

*“Dead Skunk in the Middle of the Road” lyrics copyright Loudon Snowden Wainwright III from “Album III,” produced by Thomas Jefferson Kaye for Columbia Records.

A New Decade is Dawning

2010-01-07T16:04:00.001-05:00

Another year is here – where did the time go? 2010 is gearing up to be a great year, but it is also the ending of another phase in my life.

For the past 27 years, I’ve had at least one child at home. From infant care, toddler days, preschool adventures and after school activities, Mom’s taxi service has hauled kids from one event to the next and I’ve enjoyed every minute of it. But 2010 will see my youngest child leave home to begin her college years, and I’m going to be left with an empty next. What am I supposed to do? How do you change a lifestyle you’ve had for 27 years?

The Rightmyer family circa 1999 - Marie, Christine, Amber, Bobbi and Keith

I already miss the days I used to volunteer at school. I always made time to help out several days a month when my girls were in elementary school. I’ve helped with Girl Scouts, band, choir, dance, soccer and academic practice as well as multiple church activities. When the girls got too old to want me at school, I found other ways to volunteer to show them the joy of giving your time to help others.

At least my girls have left me a little at a time – this has helped my adjustment period somewhat, but it doesn’t take the pain away entirely. Marie was the first to leave and it nearly killed me when she moved out, but I realized I was going to have to let her go eventually. Two years later, Amber was gone and the pain was just as acute, but I knew I would survive.

Christine, Marie and Amber - circa 1999

For the past 8 years, Christine has been my only child at home and we have grown very close. She sometimes complains she feels like an only child because there is such a large age difference between her and her sisters. Of all my children, Christine and I are most alike. We both enjoy reading and many times we will spend an afternoon reading, even though we are reading separate books. Or we have been known to brain storm ideas for writing projects, bouncing ideas off one another to see what we think might work for a story. We both enjoy volunteer work and Christine has been a big help to mean with many of the tasks I’ve taken on.

Of course, Christine has inherited the “worry gene” from me; she worries about everything, just like I do. She is more concerned about keeping everyone else happy than she is doing things for herself. She is a true friend and someone you can count on when the times are hard. I really wish she wouldn’t worry so much – I want her to enjoy her happy teenage years while they’re here. But just like I know I can’t stop myself from worrying, I can’t keep her from worrying either.

Looking forward into 2010, there are many things I am actually looking forward to. First and foremost is the fact that I will be a grandmother for the first time. I am so excited and I can’t wait to hold this little bundle of joy in my arms. My middle daughter, Marie, is expected in June and we are all eagerly awaiting this newest addition to the family.

My first grandchild, the Tadpole - 12 weeks gestation, due June 2010

This will also be the first year I have sent a child to college. As much as I wanted Amber and Marie to attend college, they had no interest in continuing their education. Although this saddened me at first, I realized it was their life and they should have a choice in what they wanted to do. So, instead of seeking a college education, they both entered the work force and they seem content with this decision.

Christine, on the other hand, has been looking forward to college for many years. She plans to seek a degree in Art Administration and she also wants to study abroad, hopefully in Japan. At some point after graduation, she wants to join the Peace Corps before settling down with a career. This past fall was full of applying to colleges, filling out scholarship forms and researching all grant opportunities; I know this spring will be full of last minute preparations, but it will be a fun experience.

This year is also the year I plan to have a book published. I have been working on many things, but can’t seem to narrow my focus down to one thing, so I’m not exactly sure what the book will be. I do know it will be one of the following possibilities: a collection of my Mercer’s Magazine essays, a poetry collection, a book about Harrodsburg, or a young adult book I am almost finished with. Because I’m interested in so many areas, it is hard for me to work on any one project for a long period of time, so I catch myself working on each one for a short period of time. This may not be ideal for most writers, but it is the techniques that work for me.

I guess the most special thing I’m looking forward to is celebrating my 20th wedding anniversary and being able to spend more time with my hubby. Keith and I have been together for 24 years, but we’ve only been married for 20. Since we have been together, there have always been children in the house. Even though we had a wonderful week long honeymoon, we’ve never really had any time alone with children. And as much as I miss the kids being around all the time, I’m excited about the new status in our relationship.

Where did the time go? I don’t know, but I do know that the older I get, the faster time seems to speed by. You’ve got to reach out and grab a piece of life while it’s spinning by, because if you wait for things to happen for you, it may be too late. I hope everyone has a Happy New Year and enjoys the fruits of a new decade.

Baby’s First Christmas – Again

2009-12-03T11:39:00.001-05:00

(Desiree Carter Semones; born October 28, 2009)

The Christmas season is upon us again – where did the time go? It seems like the older I get, the faster time flies by. I no longer have any little children in the household, so our Christmas routine is somewhat different than it was years ago. I can remember the kids being so excited to get up early Christmas morning and open their presents. Christmas really is for children.

Although I can’t remember back to my first Christmas, after all I was only four months old, there is one picture of me I vividly remember from the Christmas of 1962. I am lying on my Granny Devine’s couch and there is a huge stocking next to me, the old-fashion type of man’s stocking. My Granddaddy had filled it with lots of baby food, or that’s what everyone has told me. I have no memories at all of my Granddaddy; he died when I was still a baby. What knowledge I have of him is from the stories my Mom has told me and the few precious photographs that still exist.

I can remember so many details of my first daughter’s Christmas in 1982 – Amber was only three months old. Of course, she was too young to know what was going on, but I enjoyed making memories and taking photos. She got lots of clothes and toys that have long been forgotten, but there is one precious gift that holds special memories. My parents gave her a solid white stuffed kitten – it was almost a duplicate of one I had as a child. I can remember Amber carrying this kitten when she got older, and I eventually had to store it away in a closet, least it fall apart and be gone forever. Since then, my other two girls have been given white kittens and this will be a tradition I will carry on with my grandchildren. My girl’s cats are all lovingly packed away with my own kitten and they will eventually end up in a shadow box or some type of display, but until then, I’ll keep them safe and sound.

When Marie’s first Christmas arrived in 1984, she was already walking and talking. At nine months old, she was a little pistol, trying to do everything her older sister was doing. This was an exciting Christmas for our family because Amber had just turned two and she was starting to understand what Christmas was all about.

This year, there were toys galore under the tree – rocking horses, Strawberry Shortcake, Gizmo and more. Although the He-Man castle was technically Amber’s, we had a hard time keeping Marie out of all the paraphernalia that went along with He-Man and Skeletore. This was also our first Christmas in our brand-new house – it seems like such a lifetime ago.

Christmas 1988 brought us the first Christmas of my niece, Ashley, the only child of my sister, Amy. Being a baby of three months, I’m sure Ashley doesn’t remember much, but she was the newest addition to the family and we were all happy to have another baby to love on. We’ve stored away memories and photographs, which are fun to look back on and remember.

When Christine’s first Christmas rolled around in 1992, our lives had changed so much for the better. We were a happy family blended together and the holidays were a joyous time. Christine was only three months old, but Amber and Marie were 10 and 8, so Christmas fever began before Thanksgiving was even over with. Again, Christine was too young to remember this first Christmas, but like the other girls here are tons and tons of photos, plus descriptions in her baby book.

Christmas 1993 brought us the first Christmas of a baby boy, my nephew, Ethan, son of my brother and sister-in-law, Brent and Patty. Like Marie, Ethan was nine months old, so he was almost walking and talking and enjoyed the excitement from his first Christmas. Now there were five grandchildren to fill my parents home and we all loved being together.

As the years have passed, we continue to gather at my parent’s home on Christmas Eve. A hearty meal my Mom slaves over all day gives us turkey and ham, mashed potatoes and dressing, corn and macaroni, broccoli casserole and oysters – we eat until we are so stuffed we’re miserable. When the kids were all younger, we had to rush through the meal because they were so anxious to open gifts. Now that the kids are older, the meal is more relaxed and less hurried. We have time to clear away the meal and spend time together before the rush of wrapping paper and ribbons start to litter the floor.

Although I continue to love spending the holidays with my family, it has just not been the same without little children in the house. I long for the days when my own grandchildren will gather around on Christmas Eve to celebrate the season. There is just something magical about a child at Christmas – a wonderment you can only see through their eyes.

Christmas 2009 will again have a new baby in the family, Desiree Carter, daughter of my niece Ashley. Although she is less than two months old, it is such a joy to have a baby at Christmas again. There will be lots of presents she won’t remember, lots of memories that we will remember, and plenty of photographs to show her when she’s grown. I know this is the beginning of a new phase in the life of my family, a new generation of babies to love and enjoy and I look forward to entertaining them all, not just at the holidays, but all through the year.

Giving Thanks

2009-11-05T11:41:00.001-05:00

Although I’ve never really taken Thanksgiving for granted, I have sometimes glossed over the true meaning of the holiday in favor of yummy turkey and mouth-watering dressing. I enjoy being with family and friends and remembering all that we have to be thankful for, but am I really giving proper credit to the things I am thankful for?

This year has brought us two new members to our family and an expanding family is one to be grateful for. First is our new son-in-law, Jason Wilham, and although he an Amber have only been married a few months, he is the perfect fit for our family. Our second addition is a brand-new great niece, Desiree Carter, precious daughter of my niece, Ashley. Desiree is the first new baby in our family in over 16 years and we are thankful to be celebrating her first Thanksgiving. A new son and a new baby – my family is truly blessed

During this past summer, my family lived through a traumatic time in our lives - a fire at our home. This was not a total loss fire, but it did enough damage to disrupt our lives for several months. In addition to redoing the laundry room – where the fire occurred – we also had smoke and water damage to clean in the kitchen and living room. You don’t realize how much of a packrat you are until your pack-ratty ways are staring you right in the face.

Really? There are just so many file folders of corrected stories I can keep – why do I feel the need to hold on to every corrected copy? Really? There are just so many foam cups from Speedway my hubby can bring into the house – why do I feel the need to save every one? Really? There are just so many glass jars one family can own and use – why do I feel the need save them all instead of placing in the recycle bin?

Our clutter problem probably wouldn’t be so bad if it were just me, but my hubby is a packrat, too, and between us, we have a hard time letting anything go. Both of us can see objects in a new light, with a new purpose and we know that one day, we will need this item. The problem is, we never have enough time or energy to do anything with the item. I’ve saved old furniture thinking I can refurbish is, I’ve saved old pots and pans thinking I can use them as flower pots or seed starters and I’ve saved plastic bottles thinking to make mini-greenhouses for spring plants. I really do have good intentions, but for some reason, life just gets in the way.

For many years we used to eat Pizza Hut pizza every Friday night – it was a family tradition to have pizza and a movie on Fridays. I always saved the boxes because they could be used to make stepping-stones. At one time, I had a stack of boxes in my kitchen I called the “leaning tower of pizza.” I did make some stepping-stones with a few of the boxes, but the process took so long and the stones were so heavy, I couldn’t move them by myself. I did use some of the boxes as a weed barrier in a new garden bed and they worked beautifully when covered with mulch, but I could never use all the boxes I had saved.

After the fire, I was surprised to find a small stack of pizza boxes in the kitchen that had escaped the fire. It has been almost two years since we’ve routinely had Pizza Hut pizza on Friday night – two years! With the economy so bad, I’ve started making homemade pizza because it is cheaper and we can control the toppings. Why was I still holding on to old pizza boxes? I don’t know, but I took a deep breath and threw them in the trash.

Although I realize possessions can be replaced, we did lose a few things of sentimental value that will be greatly missed, our cedar wardrobe being the largest. The wardrobe actually belonged to my mother-in-law, but we’ve been using it since we were married over 20 years ago. I loved that wardrobe and I had always planned to have it turned into an entertainment center for our living room so we could see the beautiful wood. Inside the wardrobe were my wedding dress and the first quilt I ever made. I’ve saved them both, but they will never be able to be used again. Part of my packrat mind won’t let me throw them away because I may be able to turn them into a pillow or something, but who knows?

Other things, like the washer and dryer, deep freezer and clothes organizer – these will all be replaced. No sentimental attachment to these things. Old winter clothes waiting to be put back into use; we can always buy new clothes. Some Halloween decorations were also in the laundry room waiting to decorate for fall, but maybe I had too many decorations; maybe the universe is trying to tell me simple is really best.

This year at Thanksgiving, I’m thankful the rest of our house was spared. I’m thankful my husband, my daughter or myself were not at home. We grieve for the loss of our three beautiful cats, but we have lost pets before and I’m sure we’ll lose pets again. I am thankful for the love and support of our family and friends and I am grateful for all their thoughts and prayers. This year, Thanksgiving is blossoming in a new light. This year, it really is a season to give thanks.

Hallowed and Hushed

2009-10-25T09:23:00.004-04:00

Unknown. Hallowed and Hushed be the place of the dead. Step Softly. Bow Head.

Living in Harrodsburg my entire life, I have a sentimental attachment to Youngs Park, located on Linden Avenue, between the Mercer County Fairgrounds and Haggin Memorial Hospital. I have so many memories of playing in the park, eating picnic lunches and attending family functions. My Granny Devine lived within walking distance of the park and I’ve walked the short block from her home so many times, I could walk it blindfolded.

Youngs Park has always been one of my favorite places to escape to when looking for a nice, quiet lunch. Many times I have driven behind the park to the lower picnic tables and enjoyed a sandwich while watching the antics of the squirrels. The squirrels have become so used to human contact, they will sit within easy reach of picnic tables or cars, eagerly waiting for a scrap of bread or a French fry to be thrown their way.

Many of my fondest memories of Youngs Park occurred during my Girl Scout years and our annual summer Day Camp. One week of each summer was dedicated to numerous scouting projects with a different theme for each day. I can remember tie-dying T-shirts, painting pictures, cooking over a campfire, learning how to mark trails, just to name a few activities. During the summer of 1971, our favorite song to sing – and we sang it at the tops of our voices – was Three Dog Night’s “Jeremiah Was a Bullfrog.” We thought we were so cool.

The highlight of the Day Camp would be the sleepover on Friday night. For the sleepover, the Boy Scouts would come and help us set up tents in the back portion of the park. Camping out was exciting and we looked forward to it every year. Campfires, homemade stews, and s’mores were all on the list of activities.

Another eager awaited tradition for the sleepover was the telling of ghost stories. Because most of the Girl Scouts ranged in age from 8 to 14, we were all susceptible to having the beegeezus scared out of us! And Youngs Park was the perfect backdrop for these scary stories because of the legend of the “girl who danced herself to death.”

I’ve heard the story all my life – an unknown young girl arrived at the long-gone Graham Springs Hotel and attended a lavish ball where she danced all night. She eventually danced herself to death, collapsing onto the ballroom floor at the feet of her partner. She was buried in an unknown grave on the Graham Springs property. It is only as I’ve gotten older that I’ve had the desire to check more into this legend.

Historic Graham Springs was located in the area of the current Physician’s Park and Haggin Hospital and was on the site of a natural spring. There were numerous springs in the Harrodsburg area and they were reported to have healing and restorative properties.

This Spring, that would eventually be called Graham Springs, was turned into a spa as early as 1807. In 1827, Dr. Christopher C. Graham purchased the Springs and in 1842 constructed the main hotel, Graham Springs Hotel. The hotel was a brick four-story building which Graham said would hold one thousand people.

Graham charged a fee of $20 per month to stay at the Springs and “take the waters.” Not only did guests enjoy and benefit from healing waters, they also joined in a lively social season which lasted from June until September. Balls and other entertainment occupied the guests while they drank the mineral waters. Graham claimed the waters helped to alleviate the aches and pains of people who suffered from such aliments as gout, rheumatism, dropsy, neuralgia, and “Autumnal fevers.”
Often called the “Saratoga of the West,” Graham Springs flourished until 1853, when it was sold to the United States Government for use as a military asylum for aged and invalid soldiers. Fire later destroyed main buildings and the place fell into disuse.

Sometime between 1842 and 1853, legend says a beautiful young lady appeared at the Springs. No one knew who she was, but it is rumored she came from “down South.” When arriving at the Springs, she signed the guest register with a fictitious name. After her dancing death, she became known as the “unknown lady,” although most people from Mercer County still refer to her as “the lady who danced herself to death.”

After her death and burial at the Springs, a monument honoring her was erected. Currently, the tomb is located between the road and the shelter house, with a sign bearing the words:

Unknown
Hallowed and
Hushed be the
place of the dead.
Step Softly.
Bow Head.

Buildings of Days Gone By

2009-09-03T11:10:00.000-04:00

In recent months, I have been so proud of all the improvements going on in downtown Harrodsburg. Historic buildings are being refurbished and repainted and new businesses continue to thrive despite the struggling economy. Even older businesses are beginning to join in the remaking process.

Three of my favorite businesses on Main Street are Studio G, Beehive Gifts and Kentucky Fudge Company. The first two are longtime businesses and continue to attract new customers every day. The Fudge Company may be a new face in downtown, but it is fast becoming a favorite spot in Harrodsburg.

Studio G – owned and operated by Goldie Goldsmith-Vigneri – offers instructions and seminars for men and women fours years old and up. Pageant training, vocal and acting lessons, and confidence building are just a tiny portion of what is offered at Studio G. In addition to lessons, Studio G can also be rented for private birthday parties, meetings, dinners, weddings and casino nights.

Beehive Gifts – owned and operated by Jim and Shirley Sprague – is a wonderful gift shop and great place to find all types of collectibles. Boyds Bears, Willow Tree Angels, Precious Moments, Tim Wolfe Sculptures, and Cherished Teddies are all available for purchase. Beehive Gifts also offers several different lines of candles, including Yankee, Bridgewater, Candleberry, and Woodwick. If you are having trouble finding the perfect gift, Beehive Gifts will offer the ideal suggestions.

Kentucky Fudge Company – owned and operated by Tim and Jennifer Kazimer - is located in the historic Dedman’s Drugstore. In addition to the yummy homemade fudge, Kentucky Fudge Company also offers an assortment of ice cream treats from cones to milkshakes to sundaes. The café offers a different soup of the day, as well as the Harrodsburger, chicken salad, olive nut loaf and several other sandwich options. Many groups have discovered the joys of meeting at the Fudge Company, including the Community of Mercer County Writers who meets every Tuesday evening at six o’clock.

As I reminisce about my favorite Harrodsburg locations, I am faced with the sobering reality that many historical places disappearing from our landscape, most notably the Mercer County Court House. I understand the need for more space in the Mercer judicial system, but watching the demolition of the court house has been very sad. I drive through downtown Harrodsburg every weekday on my way to work, so I have watched the demolition of this building with a heavy heart.

This also reminds me of the destruction of the Hat Factory several years ago. Until its demolition in 2003, the old St. Andrews convent – known as the Hat Factory – was the oldest residence in Harrodsburg. Although the ROC building owned by the Harrodsburg Baptist Church has been a huge success, I can’t help but wonder what our ancestors would think about our practice of tearing down a historic building to put up a gymnasium.

Most rural grocery stores have totally disappeared, only to be replaced by convenience stores with gas pumps. Two of my favorite stores, Purvis’ and Peavler’s, both ceased to operate while I was still a little girl. The building for Purvis’ Grocery was totally removed, replaced by the Mooreland Avenue entrance into Mr. Kwik. Peavler’s Grocery was located on Magnolia Street, and although the building is still standing, it is a sad reminder of our past. Other small stores I miss were located in Bohon, Duncan, and Antioch.

Driving through the country, I also notice many barns and outbuildings slowing falling into decay from lack of use. Tobacco barns and cattle barns with roofs falling in or lumber falling off, they are pictorial reminders of a life gone by. Occasionally you can still see old outhouses, smokehouse, springhouses and root cellars, but these are also disappearing with each day that goes by. Along with the shrinking of family farms go the buildings that made small farming possible. I recently heard someone call old barns, “the graying bones of our past;” poetic, but true.

Even the gas station where my father used to work is long gone. Once located at the intersection of Mackville and Perryville Roads, I have so many fond memories of visiting the gas station and being treated to a cold Coke from the old fashion machine. The old Mercer Roller Rink building is still standing, albeit vacant expect for one week during the year when the Grand Old Mercer County Fair and Horse Show comes to town. During this week, the old roller rink is turned into the pride of Mercer County with the many exhibitors of the Floral Hall.

The Harrodsburg City Pool is now nothing but memories – I actually cried when the pool and building was torn down. I spent so much of my childhood swimming in the pool and sunbathing on the decks overlooking the Salt River. Now the pool is only a memory and my children will never know the joys it could bring.

On some of my photography sessions throughout the Mercer countryside, I have discovered many old barns and buildings, and they are forever captured through pictures. One of my favorites is a small barn located at the intersection of Fallis Run and Bardstown Road near the Antioch Church. I think the reason I like this building is because of the large Coca-Cola sign hanging on the side of the barn. I have always admired these old tin signs hanging on buildings and they fetch a hefty price at flea markets and yard sales. Unfortunately, the last time I went to visit this old barn, someone had removed the Coca-Cola sign. I’d like to think the owners removed it to keep as a piece of nostalgia, but with the building being right next to the road, I have my doubts.

Take a drive in the country and admire the old barns and buildings before they are all gone. Think about the old courthouse as you watch the new construction on Main Street and visit the thriving businesses downtown. Our historic landscape is changing, so store up as many memories as possible to share with your children and grandchildren, because you never know when it will be gone.

CHILDHOOD MEMORIES

2009-08-06T11:58:00.000-04:00

Have you ever wondered if the childhood memories you have are actual memories, or just other people’s interpretation of your memories? I sometimes wonder if my first memories are implanted memories from old photographs or stories told by my parents or grandparents. I have specific memories of the first home I remember living in and I know I lived in this home from the time I was two until just before my sixth birthday, but how much of what I remember is true memory?

As the oldest of three children - my brother, Brent, is 21 months younger than me, and my baby sister, Amy, was 19 months younger than my brother - we were like stair steps, three blond heads in a row. I’ve seen many childhood pictures of my siblings and me and we were usually always lined up by size, but I have no recollection of having these pictures made. No memories of the tears I’m sure we shed during photography sessions, after all, my kids shed lots of tears on occasion when having their pictures taken.

I think I can remember my brother as a baby, lying beside him on my parent’s double bed. But is it really a memory? It may just be the picture I have hanging in my hallway, the one of the two of us laying on the bed. Granny Devine used to tell me I was like a little mother hen, but I think this is my recollection of her memory, not my own memory. I do have a vivid memory of pushing Brent in a toy car in the backyard and try as I might, I can’t find a picture like this, so I feel this is a true memory.

I have another vivid memory of my brother, and he was walking, so I must have been at least three, if not a little older. We were playing in the backyard with our Farmer See ‘n Say and I was trying to teach him the sounds of all the animals. When a thunderstorm blew up, Mom rushed us inside before it started raining, but in our hurry to get inside, we left the See ‘n Say in the yard. Mom tried her best to get me to run across the yard to get the toy before the rain ruined it, but I was too afraid of the rain. She ended up racing into the yard while my brother and I both cried at the back door. I don’t remember anything else about the See ‘n Say, but this is one toy I bought when I had children of my own.

I also remember the Inchworm riding toy we used to own. These toys were very popular in the 1960s, and they are still popular today. You can find them in most stores selling toys, or on the Internet. Brent and I, and later Amy, used to take turns riding the Inchworm – up and down, up and down, from one end of the sidewalk to another. This is another toy I bought for my own children and they loved it as much as I did.

One of my fondest memories is of swinging on our swing set and singing at the top of my lungs for my next door neighbor to come out and play with me. Diane was probably five or six years older than me, but I followed her around like a little puppy dog. I would get on the swing glider and sing; “Diane, Diane, come out and play with me.” I can vividly remember this and my Mom also remembers this. A few years ago I met Diane again for the first time in probably 35 years, and she remembered me singing for her to come out and play. I know this is not an implanted memory, because I can actually remember the tune of the made-up song I sang.

One other memory I have is of a baby chicken my brother and I owned. I’m not sure if it was an Easter present or not, but I think it must have been. The chicken eventually got too big to keep in the house, and we were going to have to take it to Granny and Granddaddy’s farm in Bohon. I cried so hard because I didn’t want the chick to leave. On the day we were to take the chick to the farm, I was in charge of carrying the chicken which we had placed in a closed box. On the way to the car, my parents were too busy talking, so I lagged behind so I could hide the chicken. Passing by the tobacco barn behind our house, I opened one of the side vents of the barn and threw my chicken in, closing the vent as quickly as I could. Unfortunately for me, we only got a few miles out of town before Mom and Dad missed the chicken and I was forced to tell them what I did. I’m sure I probably got into trouble, but I don’t remember that.

Real or implanted, pictorial or video, I have many memories of my childhood, but try as I might, I’m really not sure what my very first memory is. All I know for sure is that I love to share my memories with my children, and I love to listen to the memories they remember from their lives. Memories are special, and sometimes fragile, so go out and make some memories with your children today.

RED-TAILED HAWKS

2009-07-01T14:18:00.000-04:00

For almost 6 years now, I have enjoyed the antics of a pair of Red-tailed Hawks who live in a tree near the back of my property. I love to watch these beautiful birds floating high above the trees, gracefully gliding through the air.

Red-tailed Hawks are large birds with razor sharp talons and can be very aggressive when defending nests or territories. They frequently chase off other hawks, eagles, and Great Horned Owls.

The Red-tailed Hawk is the most common hawk – raptor – in North American occupying just about every type of open habitat on the continent. This includes grasslands, roadsides, deserts, scrublands, pastures, parks and even rainforests. They love to soar above open fields, slowly turning in circles on their broad, rounded wings looking for prey. They also enjoy sitting on telephone poles or other tall structures watching for a meal.

Mammals make up the majority of the Hawks diet, including voles, rats, mice, rabbits, squirrels and snakes. Yes, I’ve seen my Red-tails flying by with a snake clutched in their razor sharp talons. They will also eat other birds: starlings, blackbirds, bobwhites and pheasants.

It is this love of other birds that lead to a hilarious sight a few weeks ago when I came home from work. As I pulled off the highway into my subdivision, I noticed one of my Red-tailed Hawks frantically flying overhead, but he (or she) was not alone. Hot on the Hawks red tail were three Starlings. The Starlings were dipping and weaving, trying their best to attack the swift Hawk. I can only surmise Mr. or Mrs. Red-tail had decided on baby Starlings for lunch. As Starlings are the one bird I dislike, I was rooting for the Hawks.

The Red-tailed Hawk has a raspy scream sounding exactly like a raptor should sound. It is this shrill calling that alerts me to the adventures of my Hawks. I enjoy sitting in the backyard and watching their aerial acrobatics.

The largest female Red-tailed Hawk only weighs about three pounds, but it is still one of the largest birds on the continent. The Hawks typically hunt in pairs, each guarding opposite sides of the same tree in order to catch a squirrel.

Both male and female Hawks help with building the nest, many times just refurbishing their nest from a previous years – this is what my Hawks do, because their nest is always in the same tall tree. Usually the nests are tall piles of dry sticks and the inner aspect is lined with bark strips, fresh foliage, and dry vegetation. Red-tailed Hawks typically put their nests in the crowns of tall trees where they have a commanding view of the landscape. They have also been known to nest on a cliff ledge or on artificial structures such as window ledges and billboard platforms.

Courting Red-tailed Hawks can be seen soaring in wide circles very high in the sky. The male will make a steep dive, and then shoot up again at an equally steep angle. He performs this ritual several times before approaching the female from above. He will extend his legs and briefly touch the female before flying away. Occasionally, the pair will grab onto each other by clasping talons and spiraling downward – they will then pull away before coming near the ground. Mated pairs typically stay together until one of the pair dies.

After courtship, the mother usually lays three eggs and sits on the eggs to keep them warm while the father hunts and feeds her. The babies will hatch after 30 days and they are covered with white down. The babies learn to fly just before they are two months old, but they still depend on their parents for food. During the summer, the fledglings follow their parents around, watching and learning how to hunt. Because Red-tailed Hawks are very territorial, it may be hard for the young hawks to find a new place to live. They typically leave the parents after the first year, but they are two or three years old before they mate and start raising babies of their own.

I’ve had the privilege of watching my pair go through the mating ritual several times and it is beautiful to behold. For the past two summers, this ritual has produced two hatchlings each year. When I saw the first set of babies learning to fly, it was so fascinating. All summer and fall I watched the babies learning to hunt with the parents, but then when colder weather was here to stay, I lost track of the babies.

By the following spring, the babies were not longer flying high with the parents. I’m not sure where the babies migrated to, but they haven’t stayed around with their parents. I guess when young Hawks fly the coop they stay gone.

Red-tailed hawks usually live six to seven years in the wild, so I’m preparing for my pair to be gone in the next few years. I just hope they are replaced by another pair of lovely hawks – maybe the offspring of my current pair - because there is nothing better than forgetting the stresses of the day by watching the free forms of the Red-tailed Hawk.

Wedding Bells

2009-06-01T16:12:00.001-04:00

“Amber, I am going to try and make you the happiest, healthiest baby alive. I want to make sure I do everything right. I love you so much, I want you to have the best life has to offer. When you’re older, I don’t want you to hesitate to come to me with your problems – I will always be here for you and so will God. He is the one that made it possible for you to be here and he will always have the answers you seek. Amber, you are the most precious little girl alive. You will always be my little angel and I love you with all my heart.”

(Excerpt of a letter by me from the baby book of Amber Dawn Huffman, written September 16, 1982)

The day was rainy, but there was nothing but happiness in my heart. “Tuesday’s child is full of grace” – this verse from the Mother Goose rhyme “Monday’s Child” was making me smile in spite of the rain. My first born child will be a girl full of grace - a child I knew in my heart was a daughter, although I had never had an ultrasound. The date was September 14, 1982 and Amber Dawn Huffman came into this world, screaming at the top of her lungs, at 1:31 in the afternoon – a Tuesday afternoon.

At 20 years old, my dream of being a mother had finally come true. After a short labor and extremely easy delivery, my first bundle of joy – all 5 pounds and 14 ounces – was placed in my arms and I knew I was the happiest woman on earth. Even though she was three weeks overdue, she was tinier than I had expected, especially after gaining 20 pounds. I guess most of the weight was due to the plain M&Ms I consumed on a weekly basis.

(Amber sitting on Granny Sallee's lap - age 5 months)

I was so scared the day we brought her home from the hospital. Her father worked nights, so I was going to be home all alone with a newborn. What if I couldn’t quiet her when she cried? What if I didn’t have enough breast milk to feed her? What if she got sick? What if, what if? I was so nervous I think I called my own mother three or four times before the night was over, and this was before speed dial and cell phones.

By the time Amber was one month old, she had doubled her birth weight – three cheers for mother’s milk. No longer a skinny newborn, my beautiful daughter now had little ham hocks for legs. And she was no longer bald because tiny wisps of blond hair were starting to peek through.

For her first Christmas, Amber was three months old and she was smiling and kicking her legs whenever she was awake. She was such a happy baby and she loved for family to carry her around - and carry her around they did. She turned into a typical first child who demanded to be carried whenever she was awake. She received a high chair from her maternal grandparents on Christmas Eve and within months she was able up and start on solid foods.

(Learning to walk - age 1)

Before I could blink my eyes, I was planning Amber’s first birthday party. Where did the time go? We had a house full of family and friends to help us celebrate the day. Amber was taking her first tentative solo steps and she enjoyed tip-toeing from one person to another. When she stuck her entire face into the birthday cake I baked for her, I caught myself crying and wishing she would never grew up.

(Dressed as Rainbow Brite - age 3)

For her second Halloween I dressed Amber up as Raggedy Ann. By her third birthday she was in love with all things Rainbow Brite and she had a younger sister, Carolyn Marie. When she was four years old she joined the Mission Friends group at church and sang in the preschool choir. The years were flying by at warp speed.

(My family at my nursing school graduation; from right to left: Amber, Marie, Mom, Dad, and Granny Sallee - May 12, 1990)

When it was time for Amber to start school, we both started at the same time – she in kindergarten and me in nursing school. Those three years of my nursing school career were the hardest times of my life. I was a single mother with two small children, but we all managed to survive healthy and whole, and we are stronger for it. Of course, I never would have made it through the tough times if it weren’t for my wonderful children – they were the reason for everything I did.

(3rd grade - 1990)

Elementary school flew by in a haze – PTO, teacher meetings, parent volunteer days and even though I was working the night shift, I always made time to attend all of Amber’s activities. Middle school brought her first dance and a whole new set of worries. Hormones and acne, boundaries and groundings, like most young teenagers she gave me a run for my money. But she was never in any serious trouble and always kept up with her school work.

(Age 16)

Soon she was moving on to high school, with an unpleasant surprise. Chicken pox at the age of 15 was a hard pill to swallow and we both learned that home schooling was not something we enjoyed. High school graduation was a blur of smiles and tears – graduating with honors, I could not have been more proud of my oldest daughter. Intelligent, beautiful and self-assured, Amber was ready to make her mark on the world. No longer a child, this young adult was now full of hopes and dreams of her own.

(Age 17 - senior picture)

My baby is now 26 years old and beginning the next phase of her life. She has found the man of her dreams – Jason Wilham – and they will be married in just a few weeks on June 20th. I am so happy for the love my daughter has found and I am confident her future will be bright.

(Amber and Jason - Christmas 2007)

So as I stress and worry about the upcoming wedding, one thing is clear in my head – I’m not losing a daughter, I’m gaining a son. And although I’m not rushing things, I feel I’m one step closer to beginning the next chapter in my life with bundles of grandchildren.

Congratulations Amber Dawn Huffman and Jason Wilham!

The Joy of Amusement Parks

2009-05-01T12:02:00.000-04:00

I have always been a sucker for theme parks: Silver Dollar City (now Dollywood), Ghost Town in the Sky, Kings Island, Opryland, and Beach Bend were just a few I visited as a child. But one of my favorite Kentucky attractions - Tombstone Junction – is no longer in operation.

Tombstone Junction was a Wild West themed park just outside of Corbin, Kentucky and it featured a real steam engine train and live “country” entertainment. Tombstone Junction had a railroad system of its own and was subjected to many “train robberies” over the years. These train robberies used to scare me as a child, but I always insisted on riding the train.

As a teenager, I was privileged to see Tanya Tucker and Glenn Campbell, Conway Twitty, Waylon Jennings and a few others I’ve long since forgotten. Unfortunately, or fortunately as my hubby likes to say, I grew out of the country music phase, but as a young child, I loved listening to my parent’s music. I even had a real “Tombstone Junction” cowboy hat I used to wear to the park.

All that remains of Tombstone Junction today is an empty parking lot, one crumbling shack, and some decaying bits of what was once the billboard, along with the memories of those who say the park in its glory days.

Another western amusement park I enjoyed as a child was Silver Dollar City in Pigeon Forge. Renamed Dollywood in 1986 when Dolly Parton bought the park, the old Silver Dollar City was started in 1961 - one year before I was born. It began life as Rebel Railroad, and changed names again in 1966 when it became Goldrush Junction, before finally becoming Silver Dollar City in 1977, named after the original Silver Dollar City in Branson, Missouri.

Dollywood is organized into several different themed areas including the Show Street, Rivertown Junction, Craftsmen Valley, the Country Fair and Timber Canyon. These areas reflect the historical eras and culture of east Tennessee. When Dolly bought the park, the Dreamland Forest and Adventures in Imagination areas were added and these emphasize Parton's life and imagination. Many attractions at Dollywood preserve the history and culture of the Southern Appalachian region.

Show Street includes the Show Street Palace Theatre, were most of the musical shows are performed and The Southern Gospel Museum and Hall of Fame. Rivertown Junction includes the Tennessee Mountain Home, the Back Porch Theatre, and the Smoky Mountain River Rampage whitewater rafting ride.

Craftsmen's Valley is my personal favorite and I usually spend the majority of my time at Dollywood in this area. In addition to the Dollywood Grist Mill, this area includes the Eagle Mountain Sanctuary, Wings of America Theatre, all the craft exhibits and Blazing Fury coaster. Blazing Fury is an enclosed steel roller coaster and was built in-house by Silver Dollar City Tennessee in 1978, prior to the park becoming Dollywood

Since my children are older, we rarely visit the Country Fair because this is the area with the children’s rides including the Dizzy Disk, the Amazing Flying Elephants, Dolly's Demolition Derby, the Scrambler, and the Wonder Wheel. We do visit the Village because this is where the train station is for the Dollywood Express steam engine – a “must ride” for every visit. When Christine was younger, the Dreamland Forest was her favorite area of the park, especially the Dreamland Forest interactive play area and the Mountain Slidewinder water-toboggan ride.

Kings Island is another family favorite amusement park, located just outside of Cincinnati, Ohio. The park owns close to 775 acres of land, but only 364 acres are currently developed. Kings Island was opened in April 1972, just before my 10th birthday, and I visited the park for the first time when I was 12 years old. Kings Island gained nationwide attention when it was featured on a 1972 episode of The Partridge Family, and again in 1973 on an episode of The Brady Bunch.

The centerpiece of Kings Island is the Eiffel Tower, a one-third scale replica of the original Eiffel Tower. Elevators regularly take patrons up to the top of the tower, which offers a view of the entire park and, at park closing, offers the best view of the nightly fireworks display. Because of my extreme fear of heights, I have only been on top of the Eiffel Tower twice, once on my first trip to the park and once on the first date with my husband.

One of the first star attractions of the park was the twin roller coaster, the Racer. The Racer is a traditional wooden out-and-back coaster and is credited for reigniting the second golden age of the roller coaster. To honor the Racer’s staying power, the American Coaster Enthusiasts the Racer an “ACE Roller Coaster Landmark” during a ceremony at the park in 2008, making it one of only 14 coasters in the world with landmark status. Ten years after Kings Island opened, the right car of the Racer was turned backwards and remained on a backward course until last year. For the 2009, both Racers will be once again running in a forward motion.

My favorite roller coaster at Kings Island is the Beast. When the Beast was built in 1979, it was the tallest, longest, and fastest roller coaster in the world at the time. After nearly 30 years, it still holds the title of the world's longest wooden roller coaster at 7,419 feet (1 ¾ miles). The Beast tracks spread across a densely-wooded, 35 acre site and the rugged terrain adds to the excitement of the ride. Top speed of this coaster is 70 miles per hour and the ride lasts almost four minutes. In addition to two huge vertical drops, the cars go through three dark tunnels and makes a 540 degree helix turn near the end of the line. The Beast has been my favorite roller coaster for almost 30 years.

In addition to several more roller coasters – Vortex, King Cobra and Son of beast – Kings Island is home to several water rides and a huge water park featuring several slides, a wave pool, a lazy river and other attractions.

Of course, after spending all day enjoying the rides, great food and other entertainment, you must stay until closing time to see the spectacular fireworks display – it’s the perfect way to end a memorable day at the park.

I’m not sure I will ever outgrow my love of amusement parks. Not only are they fun places to spend time with your family, but they are great at making you feel like a kid again. It seems like the older I get, the more I enjoy a great roller coaster ride. Now I’m looking forward to spreading this joy to my future grandchildren.

Most Days Lead to Granny

2009-04-01T10:53:00.000-04:00

Most days take me back to Granny. There in the warm coziness of her four-room house or outside in her tiny yard, I would follow her like a shadow on a sunny day, mimicking her every action. Granny would be crocheting a new afghan and I would sit patiently with my crochet hook like a surgeon wanting to start a delicate operation as I watched her knobby, arthritic hands manipulate the yarn with the speed of a typist. Granny would complete a row and then show me another stitch before moving on to start another row. I never did learn to crochet as well as Granny, but then again, I’ve never been able to do any of the miracles as well as she.

Baking cookies was always a thrill and Granny never seemed to mind the mess, and believe me, there was always a mess. Mixing the thick sugar cookie batter and then rolling it out on a slab of marble. When the dough was rolled to the right thickness, Granny would hand me a juice jar to use as a cookie cutter. Dipping the open end of the jar into a bowl of snow-white sugar, I would cut out one cookie after another. I was married with a child of my own before I realized you could buy preformed cookie cutters in all shapes and sizes.

While the cookies were baking in the old gas oven, Granny would mix up the frosting, several different colors – red, yellow, green and blue. The green was always my favorite and by the time we had finished frosting each cookie, I would end up with green lips from tasting so much frosting. Back then no one worried about how bad all the sugar was on a growing child and grandmothers were always trying to feed their grandchildren. Later, when my Mom would pick me up, Granny would send us home with a fresh tin of cookies and fresh memories I would look back fondly on in my later years.

Graveyards and cemeteries have always been some of my favorite places to visit, and when I was a child, I loved walking through row after row of old tombstones and statues looking for great grandfather so-and-so or great grandmother so-and-so or aunt and uncle so-and-so. This may be a morbid activity for a young child, but my Granny loved visiting these places and paying her respect for ancestors who have gone before us. Mom would usually take us – Granny, my brother and sister, and me – on Sunday afternoon drives. We would end up in the cemeteries of Deep Creek or Antioch or Bruner’s Chapel and my siblings and I would have free rein to run and play while Mom and Granny would clear weeds away from tombstones.

Although I have a fairly extensive family history I have been working on for many years, I can’t remember exactly who is buried in what graveyard, but I can find each family tombstone from all the cemeteries we used to visit. I remember walking down a deep hillside at Deep Creek, I remember walking up a small rise at Bruner’s Chapel, and I remember someone is buried near the old outhouse at Antioch. My childhood memories can carry me to these places like someone walking in a dream.

Another autumn adventure occurring on these Sunday afternoon drives was gathering bittersweet vine for fall decorations. Traveling the old back roads to the out of the way cemeteries, we would find bittersweet growing wild on fencerows near the road. Now a day, I would never dream of pulling over to the side of the road and gathering wild vines, but in the late 60s and early 70s this is exactly what we did. We would go home with the car trunk full of bittersweet vines full of bright orange berries. Granny would make wreaths or table decorations to help brighten the house for fall.

Gathering hickory nuts is another autumn adventure I loved to help with. Granny had friends who owned a farm near Perryville and one field of the farm had five or six hickory nut trees. We would fill several large sacks full of nuts, knowing Granny would use them in her wonderful jam and orange slice cakes, or in fudge or fruit salad. Once we had the nuts back home, we would sit in Granny’s side yard and remove the hulls from each nut. Although not as messy as working with black walnuts, the green hulls would still stain our hands. Mom and Granny would then crack the shell of each nut and carefully work out the sweet meat inside. It would take hours just getting a small bowl of nuts, but we knew the reward was worth it.

Although my Granny loved to sew and make crafts, I think her first love was working with plants in her small yard. Elephant ears were one of her favorite plants and she would grow the same bulb over and over again every year. During the summer, the huge green Elephant ears would grow happily in old buckets on the back porch. When the air started to chill in the fall, Granny would drag the buckets to the crawl space below the house. After wrapping the entire bucket in layers of old newspaper, the elephant ears would over winter in the dark dampness of this small cramped space, getting just enough warmth from the furnace pilot light to keep from freezing and damaging the root bulbs. Every few years, Granny would repot the elephant ears, harvesting baby bulbs to turn into new plants.

Granny also enjoyed growing sage in the tiny flower garden between her home and her next-door neighbor’s house. She kept the flowers plucked off each sage plant in order for the leaves to grow big and fat. During the late summer and early fall, Granny would start harvesting the sage leaves, lining them on paper plates and allowing them to dry on the back porch if it was a sunny day, or placing them on top of the refrigerator where it was warm. Granny would then use the sage for making her wonderful dressing on Thanksgiving and Christmas. My mother still grows and dries sage in the same manner as Granny and her dressing is always the highlight of the holiday season.

Sewing, gardening, baking and crafting, in my opinion, there was nothing my Granny couldn’t do – except maybe drive a car. Granny never learned to drive and never had any desire to learn to drive, depending on my Mom and aunt to take her the places she needed to go. It is because of Granny I love to work in my gardens, although my plants never seem to grow as good as Granny’s did. It is because of Granny I love to sew and craft, but my fingers will never be as nimble as Granny’s were. It is because of Granny I love to bake – although I hate cleaning up the mess – but my desserts will never stand up to the delectable sweets she would create.

Granny has been gone for 24 years, but I still think of her often. Although all my memories of her are happy memories, it saddens me to know my children and my husband never got to know her. In recent years the motto, “What would Jesus do?” has become very popular, but whenever I’m in doubt about something, I catch myself asking, “What would Granny do?”

School Days, School Daze

2009-03-01T00:00:00.001-05:00

School days, school days
Dear old golden rule days
Readin' and ritin' and rithmatic
Taught to the tune of a hickory stick ...

Are there people you try to remember more clearly, phantoms you'd like to reach back into the past and take a firm hold of? What do you remember of your early school years? High school years? College years? These are questions my best friend and I were reminiscing about a few weeks ago and I couldn’t believe it has really been 29 years since I graduated from high school? Where have the years gone? In recalling these memories, I was amazed at the details I remembered from certain years, while other memories I only had a vague recollection.

My first foray into the world of education was kindergarten at Lad & Lassie. I don’t remember much from this time in my life, but there are a few things I can remember with clarity. I remember the cold feel of the leather car seat on the backs of my bare legs as Daddy would drive me to school. I normally wore a skirt or dress with knee socks and this left the backs of my legs exposed to the elements when I would sit down. I remember the "play" we put on - everyone dressing and acting out a part in a circus. My best friend at the time Jennifer "General Foods" and I were the double-headed fat lady - both of us inside the same dress with our heads and one arm a piece in each sleeve. For the life I me, I don’t remember why I called her General Foods, unless it was because Jennifer and General sounded alike.

First grade was at Rose Hill Elementary in 1968 - the last year the school was open. At six years old I had this huge puppy crush on Duane, who was an older man, a mature seven years old. I got in trouble one day because I wrote him a note and then pushed it through a crack in the wall between my classroom and his. I was humiliated when his teacher brought the note to my teacher and then proceeded to read it out loud to the classroom! I also remember having a field day or party day, and my Mom got to come and bring my little brother, Brent. I got so upset when Brent tripped and rolled down a hill on the side of the school yard. I was so afraid he was hurt, but he managed to end up with only a few scratches.

When the Mercer County Elementary School first opened, I was in the first second grade class. I don’t remember much from second grade, but third grade was a different story. I took my best friend's, Ella Jean, turtle out of his bowl on pet day and put him on the table. Then, during the morning Pledge of Allegiance, the turtle walked off the table and fell to the floor - Ella Jean was furious and the Miss McGinnis made me stand in the corner. I also thought it was okay to sharpen my yellow crayon in the pencil sharpener on the wall; this earned me my one and only spanking at school. Actually, I didn’t get a true spanking – the teacher took me into the supply closet and told me to never sharpen my crayons in the pencil sharpener again. She took the paddle and smacked her hand with it twice to make noise and then told me not to tell anyone. After that, Miss McGinnis was my hero!

Seventh grade at Mercer County Junior High – we all thought we were so big back then. No longer with the younger kids at the elementary school, we were one step closer to being with the cool kids in high school. This was the year I let several people touch my legs because everyone thought I was wearing pantyhose with my shorts. Fact was I used to tan brown as a berry from days spent in the sun and my legs were just naturally dark. This was also the year I started to seriously keep a journal, something I’ve continued to do for the next 35 years.

All four years at Mercer County High School, I dated the same boy and I was head over heels to the point that I began ignoring all my old friends and did everything I could to please my first love. The one person I managed not to alienate was my best guy-friend, Damon – he managed to stand by me no matter what and for that I’ll always be grateful. My only regret from my high school years was not listening to my family and friends when they told me I should not have settled for the first guy who caught my eyes. Oh well, hindsight is 20-20.

Going to college as a single mother of two children under the age of six was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life, but it is also the thing I am most proud of. After my divorce I attend the Midway College nursing program. My children started school at the same time – Amber was in kindergarten and Marie was in Head Start. Those three years were so hard, not only because of raising my children, studying for classes and attending clinical rotations, but because I also had to hold down a job. This was 25 years ago and when I look back I don't know how I survived with my sanity intact, or how my children turned into wonderful young women. The majority of the credit goes to my boyfriend, Keith, now my loving husband of almost 20 years. He is the one who kept me going, helping me with homework and entertaining the girls while I studied for tests or wrote term papers.

These are just a few of the memories my muse brought up when my friend and I were talking about our school years. The problem is I am nowhere near the tip of the iceberg on this subject. Just looking at school pictures can bring back an avalanche of memories. Capturing these memories on paper may take me the rest of my life, but I think I’m up for the challenge.

Lights, Camera, Action

2009-02-05T10:44:00.000-05:00

On February 17, 2009, all over-the-air analog television transmission signals on channels in the United States will come to an end – or at least that is the current plan approved by the Government, via the Congress and the FCC. Since we have had to deal with this message “crawling” across the bottom of our televisions for months, I thought this would be a good time to talk about the progression of television in my life.

The first program I have any memory of watching was “The Monkees” - the misadventures of a struggling rock band. This show first aired in September of 1966, so I was only four years old. I can still remember begging my mom to let me stay up past my bedtime so I could watch. At the time “The Monkees” premiered, they were a fictional rock band, but Davy, Micky, Peter and Michael soon became overnight sensations.

I don’t remember if mom actually let me stay up late on the night in question – 8:00 pm was past my bedtime – but I do remember religiously watching “The Monkees” on Saturday afternoon television. According to Wikipedia, “The Monkees” began airing on Saturdays in September 1969 – by this time I was seven years old.
I have no recollection whether I first watched “The Monkees” on a black and white television, or if we had switched to color. Colorized television was wide-spread by the time I was born in 1962, but not many families could afford them. It wasn’t until 1972 that color television sets outsold black and white sets in the United States.

“Dark Shadows” is the first show I remember watching in color, although it started out as a black and white show. I know I wasn’t old enough to have watched “Dark Shadows” from the beginning – it started airing in 1966 – but I do remember at some point coming home from school in just enough time to see most of the daily episodes. This series ended in 1971 – I would have been nine years old.

“Dark Shadows” was one of the lucky television shows to make it into syndication in 1975. I think it was these repeated viewings that endeared me to “Dark Shadows” – I liked it during its original run, but I grew to love it through syndication. Now, thanks to digital technology, I can enjoy “Dark Shadows” on DVD any time I want.

By the time I became obsessed with my next television show – “Land of the Lost” – I know we had a color television. “Land of the Lost” premiered in 1974 and it was a weekly Saturday morning children’s show by Sid and Marty Krofft. To say I loved this campy show is an understatement. This show had everything a 12 year old could want – dinosaurs, danger and adventure.

It was because of “Land of the Lost” I had my first introduction into audio recording. I would audio tape this show every Saturday morning on my little yellow cassette recorder and then listen to it with my headphones every night. Today there are audio books to listen to, but for me it was always “Land of the Lost.” I still have to be listening to an audio book or have the television on very low to go to sleep – my youngest daughter is the same way.

By the time I was 13, I thought I was in love – with “Starsky and Hutch.” Actually, it was Starsky I loved the most. I never missed an episode of this show, but I had to keep it turned down very low because it came on past my bedtime. My bedroom was in the basement, so as long as I keep the volume down, I could get away with watching. Of course, this is another show I would audiotape and listen to at night.

In addition to “Starsky and Hutch”, 1975 also brought “Crockett’s Victory Garden” on PBS. James Underwood Crockett was my gardening idol and it is because of him I became so fascinated with plants and gardening. Every week I would tune in to see what was growing, dreaming of the days I would have my own garden. The show’s name changed to “The Victory Garden” after Crockett died in 1979.

With the mainstream use of VCRs, television viewing would never be the same. I can still remember the first video stores opening in Harrodsburg. Movies lining every shelf – all you had to do was take them home and pop them in the VCR, if you were lucky enough to own one. The video stores also had VCRs to rent and I can remember lugging home one of those huge machines and becoming frustrated when I couldn’t get it hooked up right. I didn’t own my first VCR until I started nursing school – way back in 1987.

No longer content to wait once a year to see “The Wizard of Oz,” “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” or “Star Wars,” you can now watch these beloved classics whenever you want. My children don’t remember much about Saturday morning cartoons, because they have always been able to watch cartoons at the flick of a switch. Videocassette recorders/players are slowly being replaced by DVD recorders/players. By 2003, DVDs were out-numbering VHS tapes in total rentals and sales.
Three years ago, I was introduced to the DVR and my television viewing will never be the same. Not only can I record programs for future viewing, but I don’t have to waste tapes or discs for recording, unless it is something I want to keep. The DVR allows me to record all my favorite shows and then watch them whenever I feel like it. Not only does it record, but it allows me to pause live television and rewind to catch something I missed.

Black and white versus color, analog versus digital, VHS versus DVD – as long as technology continues advancing, there will always be changes in viewing entertainment from your home. What will the future hold for my grandchildren? We’re already seeing movies on computers and cell phones. I don’t know how my grandchildren will view television, but I know one thing. There will be lots of stories from grandma about the good old days.

Blizzard of 1978

2009-01-01T01:40:00.001-05:00

We've all heard stories of blizzards and snowstorms from our parents and grandparents, tales of epic snows and the struggles each one brought.

"I used to walk through snow 3 feet deep just to get to school."

"I remember the snow was up to the window eaves."

"We were snowed in for over a month."

Of course, I have a few stories of my own, like the snowstorm of 2001 when we were supposed to only get a "dusting" and we ended up with 2 feet of snow. This was the winter my middle daughter, Marie, made an igloo by digging out a 3 foot snow drift. This was not a legendary storm, but it is one all three of my children remember. And although I've lived through a few snowstorms and ice storms in my 46 years, nothing compares to my grandparent's epic storms of legend.

Not unless you count the blizzard of 1978. I was 15 years old at the time of this storm, but I'll never forget that winter. Although I kept a journal at the time, many of my facts may not be accurate because at the time, I was more concerned with writing about my boyfriend than the weather conditions. However, I was able to record some of my feelings and the increasing boredom, and my memories have grown each time I tell the story to my girls.

In my telling of the story, we were out of school from Christmas break until Valentine's Day, but I don't think this is exactly right. According to newspaper articles, the big blizzard didn't hit until January 25th, so my slice of reality doesn't hold up to historical facts. We probably had a few “snow days” between Christmas and the big blizzard, but I'm also sure we went to school a few days.

I remember the weathermen had predicted the approaching storm several days before it hit. My parents, like everyone else, had stocked up on food and supplies anticipating a few days of cabin fever. As I researched the blizzard of 1978, I found a report from the National Weather Service, who categorized the storm “as a rare severe blizzard – the most severe grade of storm.” I do have my own records showing at the height of the storm, winds were gusting up to 100 miles per hour. There were also a couple of days when the wind chill was more than 30 degrees below zero. I don't know what the official snow totals were for Harrodsburg, but in our backyard we had 26 inches.

I remember the water lines froze and we didn't have water for days on end. This happened all over town, not just in the subdivision of Riverview where I lived. I remember Daddy hauling water from my grandparents farm in Bohon so we would have water to drink and cook with, as well as to flush the toilets. We also went to the laundromat in Danville to wash clothes because the ones in Harrodsburg didn't have water.

It's funny, I can remember the water lines being frozen, but I don't remember if the electricity was on or off. Our home had a gas furnace, so I guess that would have kept us warm. And I remember we had telephone service because I kept the phone lines hot talking to my boyfriend.

The first few days after the storm were fun because we could go sledding, make snow angels and have snowball fights. My younger brother and his friends made an igloo in the backyard and it was fun watching the building process. After the igloo was finished, they spent hours having the grandest snowball fights!

Although I was a tomboy growing up, I was a wimp about snow and cold weather. After the first few days, I was tired of the snow, so I spent most of my days indoors reading. At the time I owned the first 16 “Trixie Belden Mystery” books and I re-read the entire series twice during this extended vacation. But no matter how much I loved Trixie Belden, I was getting tired of reading the same books over and over again. With school closed I was not able to check books out of the library and the bookmobile was not able to travel to our subdivision. I did have "A Wrinkle in Time" checked out from school, but even Charles Wallace and the Tesseract were not enough to hold my boredom at bay.

And bored became an understatement! After the first week, I would wake early every weekday, only to be disappointed when the radio announced school was closed again. I was actually envious of the Harrodsburg students because they went back to school sooner than we did.

Needless to say, I was so excited to go back to school - to see my friends, to see my boyfriend, to get new books from the library, and ending the overpowering boredom of cabin fever. This will probably be the snowstorm story I tell my grandchildren, and I'm sure the tale will get exaggerated, just the way my grandsparents' and my parents' stories did. But one thing is for sure, I will always remember the beauty and power of the Blizzard of 1978.

Home for the Holidays

2008-12-04T10:03:00.001-05:00

(Photo curtsey of Koerten Galery)

Home for the holidays … we hear this saying every year, what does it actually mean?

Home is the place where your loved ones reside. I don’t think it is a place at all, but a feeling deep down in your heart. To me, home for the holidays is anywhere my family can join together, be it my home, my oldest two daughters’ home, or my parent’s or mother-in-law’s home.

Christmas has always been my favorite time of year, but the past three years have been a challenge; they do not held the same joy since my sister is gone. The last year I truly enjoyed Christmas was 2004 – the last Christmas we got to spend with my baby sister, Amy.

Christmas 2004 was a merry time, full of love and excitement. There were family reunions and guarded surprises, all leading up to Christmas Eve, when we all gathered in my parent’s home to celebrate the season.

My Mom still has the Christmas stockings that Brent, Amy and I had as children. They always hang on the brick hearth, along with additions for Amber, Marie, Ashley, Christine and Ethan – the five grandchildren. During the Christmas season of 2004, Mom made each of us a new Christmas stocking. Amy had found a picture of a stocking made from old quilts and she convinced Mom to make one for each of us. Amy had an old quilt and she drew the pattern and helped Mom cut out the pattern pieces.

Mom worked hard for several weeks to make sure all of us had stockings. When she had finished them, she presented us our stockings on Christmas Eve. This was the best gift I received that year. I loved the way the stockings looked and I was thrilled because it was something my Mom had made for us. She even embroidered our names and the year on the back of each stocking. For the past three years, I have used these stockings in place of our old ones. We don’t have a hearth, so we hang our stockings from stocking holders on the buffet in the living room.

One Christmas staple has had many incarnations over the years - the Christmas lights we put on our trees. When I was little, the only Christmas lights we had were the large, screw-in type in various multi-colors. Today Christmas lights are tiny and twinkling and they come in some really strange colors. Although we have many strands of these new fangled lights, we also have several strands of the older types, just because I love the way they look. Those large bulbs always take me back to the Christmases of my childhood.

Another lighting tradition our family has is the two strands of “bubble lights” that we lovingly display each year – my family didn’t have any of these lights for our tree, but my husband’s family did, so we merge the two traditions.

When my siblings and I were little, we used to drive our parents crazy because we were always changing the colors of the Christmas lights. The tree was always in a corner or in front of the picture window, and we each had our own side of the tree. Brent’s and mine were usually the left or right side and Amy’s was in the middle. I was always moving the green lights to my side of the tree (green was my favorite color). My brother would move the red bulbs and my sister’s spot was full of blue bulbs. None of us liked the yellow lights, so we tried to move them to the back of the tree or near the bottom.

There are two food items my Mom cooks every year and they are the two things we can’t do without when it comes to Christmas – her chocolate fantasy fudge and her homemade dressing. Although Christine and my hubby love peanut butter fudge the best, I have always been a chocoholic, so Mom’s fudge hits the spot. I’ve never been able to make fudge as good has hers. And when it comes to dressing for the turkey, nothing compares to Mom’s! She freezes left-over biscuits and cornbread all year and then mixes them with onions, turkey broth and sage to make the most heavenly dressing I’ve ever tasted. We wait all year for this one food, so she always makes a huge amount for everyone to have left-overs.

As far as Christmas trees are concerned, we’ve ran the gamete of styles and sizes. Although cedar trees are still my favorite because of their wonderful smell, our huge collection of Hallmark ornaments prohibits us from using them because the branches just aren’t strong enough. Since my hubby and I have been married, we’ve always had an artificial tree; sometimes we’ve had three or four at a time. Last year we added a new tree to our collection and it is the tree we are using this year.

I have fond memories of the old silver tinsel trees from my childhood – you remember the type, silver branches with a color wheel instead of lights. Well, for years we have hunted yard sales and flea markets, not to mention family attics, but we could never find one of those silver trees; they had all been thrown away or sold in yard sales. Last year, my hubby found a brand new silver tree, and although it is not exactly like the tinsel trees of my past, it is close enough that I love it. And this tree is flame-retardant, so we can put on as many lights as we want.

Christmas trees, Christmas stockings, Christmas food – is this what it means to be home for the holidays? Although these are but some of the symbols of the season, symbols do not a family make. Being with family, sharing love and excitement – that’s what is means to be home for the holidays. Everything else is just icing on the cake!

Hurray For Books

2008-11-01T13:33:00.000-04:00

I love books! I have loved them since I was a little girl. When I was growing up, my family didn’t have a lot of extra money, so I didn’t own very many books, but the books I did own were precious to me. I treated them with respect and I cared for them much better than I did my toys. The first book collection I owned was the Trixie Belden Mysteries and these books still hold a special place in my heart.

My Granny Devine always told me to never, ever dog-ear the pages of a book and this is something I adhere to strongly. When I became a mother, this was also a lesson I taught my three girls. To me, dog-earing a book is a sign of disrespect and should be frowned on in all settings and societies.

Now that I’m older, my home library has grown by leaps and bounds. I have bookshelf after bookshelf full of wonderful books. I keep bookmarks in every room of my house, plus I also use those dang inserts from magazines as bookmarks – they’re made of cardboard, so they work nicely.

I don’t write in the majority of my books, unless it is an inscription of who bought me the book or when I received it. I also have many autographed books that are special to my collection. I do have a tendency to write in “self-help” books or in text books that are my own – this helps me if I’m studying something new. Other than that, I never write in a book.

I try very hard to keep the book jackets with the books, but sometimes this is hard, especially if it is a book that I like to reread. In that case, I’ll laminate the jacket cover, much the way the public library does to protect its books. This keeps the cover nice and clean and I don’t have to worry about tearing the cover every time I reread a book.

When it comes to checking books out of the library, I try to follow the same rules as with my own books. I always use a bookmark and I never dog-ear the pages. It makes me so mad to check out a book and find half the pages have been dog-eared at one time or another. I would also never think of writing in a library book, or anyone else’s book.

My earliest memories of the Mercer County Public Library are that the entire building used to be housed in the Historical Society. It still amazes me when I visit the Historical Society, how tiny this building really is! My mom would always take me to the library, sometimes several times a week.

When I started elementary school, I fell I n love with the school library. So many books! By the time I was in the 4th grade, I was a library assistant for Miss Joy, the librarian. I really thought I was something special. I would get to preview new books before they were ever put into circulation.

By the time I reached high school, I was sill visiting the library often, but I was getting lots of flack from my peers for reading so much. Looking back now, I shouldn’t have let this bother me, but you know how peer pressure can be when you’re a teenager – you try to fit in instead of being your own person.

Now as an adult, I visit the public library two or three times a week. The public library got a brand new building – in its current location – while I was still in grade school – and it has gone through several renovations since them.

Some of the biggest changes in the public library have been the addition of computers. There are several computer stations and it keeps the librarians busy scheduling computer time. This is a wonderful service for people who don’t have computers at home. Another big change over the past few years has been in the card catalog. Gone are the days of flipping through the drawers and cards in the old card catalog – now all you need to do is input a few words into the computer and you quickly learn the location of the books you are looking for. You don’t even need to know the exact name of the book; you can search just the author’s name or even a specific keyword.

Currently, the Mercer Public Library is working on plans for another expansion. I’m so excited! It is really wonderful when a library outgrows its space and has to expand. This tells me there are many people in our community are calling the library home.

Books have always been my friends, so I think they deserve the same kindness and consideration that I would give to a living friend. Books are our legacy and they will endure long after I have left this world.

Costumes of Halloween Past

2008-10-01T10:29:00.004-04:00

As I look back to the Halloween’s of my childhood, I realize that most of my memories are memories of my children’s Halloweens instead of my own. I have always loved Halloween, but in trying to remember these holiday memories, I have found that my love for all things spooky was an evolution.

Of course, Jack-O-Lanterns will always been one of my favorite parts of Halloween. Even though Jack-O-Lanterns originated through a pagen culture, these bright orange faces are deeply rooted in the Halloween season. I also enjoy corn shocks, gourds and Indian corn - nothing says autumn like these precise signs of the season.

As a child growing up in the 1960’s, I have fuzzy memories of carving pumpkins with my Dad. We did the traditional “triangle” features and we always wanted to carve the pumpkin well before Halloween, so that by the time we were ready to go trick-or-treating, the pumpkin was so badly shriveled that the lid had already fallen onto the candle inside. Again, my pumpkin carving has been a long evolution.

When Marie and Amber were about four and five years old, I became fascinated with carving more elaborate pumpkins. I collected carving tools and pumpkin “patterns” and I pushed myself into making one spectacular creation after another. As Marie and Amber grew older, they were interested in pumpkin carving as well, so it became a family activity. By the time Christine was born, our entire family had entered numerous pumpkin carving contests and we had all taken home many first prizes.

By the time Amber and, two years later Marie, graduated from high school, Christine was entering her teenage years and she wasn’t as interested in carving Halloween pumpkins. Because of her lack of enthusiasm, my enthusiasm had declined and it has shown in the number of annual pumpkins I carved. Last year, 2007, was the first year since I can remember that I didn’t carve a Jack-O-Lantern.

The Halloween costumes my children wore also showed the same type of evolution as my pumpkin carving traditions have shown. When Amber was born, something inside of me made an unconscious decision to make all her Halloween costumes. Since she was only six weeks old for her first Halloween, there was no need for a costume, but the next year, I dressed her up as Raggedy Ann. I had found an old dress as a yard sale that I knew would make the perfect costume. Amber was 13 months old and her hair was shoulder length, so I braided it with yarn ribbons and added rosy lipstick to her little cheeks. This was just the beginning of a Halloween costume obsession that lasted for almost twenty years.

Marie was seven months old for her first Halloween, so I turned her into a pumpkin with a padded orange poncho and an orange bonnet complete with pumpkin stem and two leaves. Even though this costume took me no time to complete, Marie looked adorable. But her costume was not my pride and joy. No, my masterpiece for 1984 was Amber’s Rainbow Brite costume.

Amber loved watching Rainbow Brite and she had many of the dolls, which she played with every day. She had just celebrated her second birthday the month before, and her cake had been decorated with Rainbow Brite. When I found a pattern for the replica costume, I knew I would be turning Amber into Rainbow Brite. I worked two months on this costume, sewing and stuffing each colorful layer by hand. Amber was in heaven; she wore the costume in the house for a week before Halloween, and only a chocolate milk spill got it off of her after Halloween. This costume was hand washed and worn so many times that I’m surprised it didn’t fall apart. I still have this costume packed lovingly away in the closet. Amber has been turned into a pink unicorn - complete with a silver horn - two different versions of Dracula, a mad nurse, and a witch, just to name a few.

When Marie was going through the terrible twos, I turned her into a miniature devil. Of course, she was also a fairy princess one year, a vampire the next and who could forget the green dinosaur? Marie was such a tiny child, that she wore her dinosaur costume three years in a row. The green dinosaur was a another difficult costume because it involved numerous padded layer be sewn to the body. The first year Marie wore the costume as it was originally designed, complete with mittens for her hands and booties for her feet. She loved this costume so much, that the next year she wanted to wear it again. So, I painted brightly colored polka-dots on each of the dinosaur's spines. The mittens still fit, but the booties were too much trouble to walk in. By the third year, I was surprised the costume still fit. It was a little too short in the legs, but we remedied that by having Marie wear a pair of green sweat pants under the costume. In the dark, no one ever noticed the difference. We also added silver and gold paint and sparkles to the polka-dots we added last year.

For Christine’s first Halloween, she was only three months old, but I wanted to take her with us trick-or-treating on Main Street. Because I had such luck turning Marie into a pumpkin eight years before, it was easy to whip up an outfit. But Christine’s outfit was only the icing on the cake. This particular year, Keith dressed up like a pumpkin farmer and carried Christine as his pumpkin. They won third place in the costume contest. Christine has also been turned into the Lion King, a zombie, a devil, a pirate and a mad scientist.

In 1994 I turned all three of my girls into M & M’s – red, green, and yellow. They looked like we had just poured out a bag of the candies. This was the one and only year that my girls had matching costumes. After that, Amber and Marie started drifting away from trick-or-treating.

I have kept a list of all the girls’ Halloween costumes in each of their baby books. As I was recently reviewing each year’s entries, I was astonished at the number of costumes I have made over the years. I've become lax with my scrapbooking over the past few years, so Halloween picture seem to be scattered here and there. I'm currently working on holiday scrapbooks, so I eventually hope to have all the Halloween picture in one spot. It will be nice to have all the memories of Halloween past at my fingertips in one easy spot.

© Bobbi Rightmyer 2008

The Best is Yet to Come

2008-09-11T09:47:00.002-04:00

Labor Day has passed and summer is officially considered over. My daughter has been back in school for a month now and the holiday season is fast approaching. Where did the time go?

I have always enjoyed autumn – it has been my favorite time of year, even when I was a little girl. Summers spent chasing fireflies and playing with neighbors until the last light of day would give way to cooler crisp nights and earlier curfews at home. For me, autumn was the greatest time to curl up with a good book because I would always have to be home before dark. Reading time would gradually increase and time would march closer to the approaching winter.

As I got older, autumn was the time I looked forward to the new fall premieres on television. What was going to be my newest obsession? Would my old television favorites be returning? Back in the 70s there was no Internet to be able to check out favorite shows. Today, with the click of the mouse, I can find out all the ins and outs of the shows I love. This is just one of the many advantages to the World Wide Web.

Autumn also meant a change in eating habits. The fresh veggies and fruit from the harvest of summer would turn into the newly preserved food my mother would have canned throughout the summer. Fast easy meals of salad, fruits, and sandwiches were quickly replaced by all day cooking of soups, stews, and chili. There’s nothing better than sitting down to a nice hot bowl of chili on a cool autumn evening.

The one thing I have always disliked about adjusting to a new season is the changing of the wardrobe. Shorts, tank tops and sandals (in today’s world it’s crocs) must be packed away for another year and bluejeans, t-shirts and boots are pulled out of storage. No more running out the door without looking at the temperature, autumn means usually having to wear a sweater or light jacket, only to lose it by lunchtime when the temperature climbs. By early evening, the temperature dips again as you try to remember where you left your jacket or sweater.

During the dog days of summer you can happily play outdoors with all your neighborhood friends, but by the time school started, you would be spending more time with your school friends – although in my case, for the most part, these friends were one in the same. Birthday parties and sleepovers replaced playing Red Rover-Red Rover and freeze tag. The telephone, which had remained silent during the summer, would continually ring as calls were made to review homework assignments or talk about things that happened during school hours.

September has always been the month when I notice my mood changing – for the better. I have never been a summer person, usually shying away from the hot, humid days of summer in favor of the cool, crisp days of fall, winter and spring. Gone are the days of hiding in the shade to escape the sun’s rays, the sometimes chilly days of September remind me that fall has arrived.

Also with the arrival of September, I know that Halloween will soon be here. As a child I looked forward to the long process of choosing a Halloween costume and pumpkins to carve. There was also the growing anticipation that Thanksgiving and Christmas would soon be right around the corner, and what kid doesn’t look forward to Christmas?

This September I’m looking forward several new and returning television shows. From my childhood it used to be Starsky and Hutch, Miami Vice and Fantasy Island; now I look forward to the return of Bones, Californication, Heroes, Dexter and Grey’s Anatomy, plus the new premiere of True Blood, based on the Southern Vampire Mysteries by Charlaine Harris.
T
here are also many new books I’m eagerly awaiting to be published: Swallowing Darkness by Laurell K. Hamilton, Scarpetta by Patricia Cornwell, and The Tales of Beadle the Bard by J. K. Rowling. The fall movies I’m anticipating are Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – and who isn’t waiting for this one? - and Twilight based on the novel by Stephenie Meyer.

Even though summer is gone – to me, the best part of the year is just getting started. Time for family togetherness, time for meals spent together, and time to reflect over the past year and plan for the future. Many people do this in January, but for me, September will always be the time of new beginnings.

© Bobbi Rightmyer 2008

Let's Keep Rolling

2008-07-28T08:45:00.003-04:00

Friday and Saturday nights were always roller skating night in Harrodsburg during the 1970s. The Mercer Roller Rink was located in the rectangular building right inside the fair grounds, which is currently used for the Mercer County Fair Floral Hall. The door way would always be clogged with kids coming and going, waiting to pay the entrance fee, or getting a hand stamp to be able to reenter the building.

Once inside the door, the entryway opened into a large room that was the roller rink proper and the sitting area. On the left side of the sitting area, plain folding chairs were lined in rows two deep, turned to face the rink. Coat racks were along the south facing wall, and the bathrooms were behind the chairs. On the right side of the sitting area, benches lined the partition between the skating area. The ticket booth opened into a concession stand on this side of the building. Pepsi, potato chips, and candy bars were a few of the refreshments available to satisfy cravings during a long night of skating. The Pepsis came in glass bottles and there was a bottle stand located down the center of the concession stand. The floor of the skating rink was concrete, so you can imagine the number of broken bottles that accumulated over the weekend.

As I mentioned, the floor was concrete and this included the skating area itself. Not only was it concrete, but there was a huge crack in the floor that ran north to south on the lower portion of the rink. This crack had been filled in, but it left a little hump that you could feel through your legs as you skated over it. Everyone grew up learning to adjust their skating style to accommodate the hump in the floor.

Records played all night: the Jackson Five, the Osmond Brothers, Chicago, the Eagles, and John Denver, just to list a few. There was always a song to skate to, from the fast ones to the slow ones. Normally, the slow ones were limited to the couple’s skate, when the lights were lowered and the disco ball was shining. I loved skating during a couples skate and I would try to skate with Duane or Steve Flora, Mike Grubbs, or one of the other boys who I had grown up with. There would also be all girl and all boy skates, backward skates, and three-ways. Occasionally, we would start a train, and I would love to be at the end of the train because you got slung around the rink really fast at each turn. These types of trains didn’t happen often, because we would usually get called down for reckless skating. I also liked to skate circles in the center of the rink.

I can remember my daddy taking me skating at the Mercer Rink when I was very young. He started out working at Corning Glass Works when he and mom went to housekeeping, so every summer we would go to the Corning’s Outing. Several years it was held at the Mercer Fairgrounds, right after the fair when there were still rides available for entertainment. The skating rink would also be open, and daddy would take me and Brent inside to skate. I think I loved skating so much because I could tell how much my dad loved skating.

As my skating ability improved, we started going to the roller rink more often. After I got my first pair of skates, I was able to practice at home. I think I was eleven the year I got my skates for Christmas; I couldn’t wait to go skating with them. That first night skating, I used some of my Christmas money to buy green pom-poms for my skates. I thought I was hot stuff. Within a few weeks, I would have five different color pom-poms on each skate. I kept my skates clean and polished, and I would oil them regularly, especially after skating in our basement. I learned to skate in circles by using a support pole in our basement, holding on with one hand and skating myself in circles. I had many crashes because of dizziness, but I eventually mastered the skills enough not to make a fool out of myself in front of my friend.

When I started dating, my trips to the skating rink started to decrease. My boyfriend didn’t know how to skate, and he didn’t want to lean. He had no desire to spend the weekend skating and listening to music, and he would get jealous if I went without him. So to please him, I backed off from skating until I was no longer going. I don’t remember when I eventually stopped going, but I had not been for a while when the Mercer Roller Rink closed its’ doors for good.

All three of my children like to skate, but most modern roller rinks have wooden floors. I have tried to become adjusted to wooden floors, but I missed that old cracked concrete floor at the Mercer Roller Rink. The wooden floor makes me fill like I’m running over hundreds of cracks in the floor, instead of one big crack. Hindsight being 20-20, I wish I had taken advantage of the last few weeks the roller rink was open to store up memories of the place. Instead, I keep the memories I have locked up in my heart and I occasionally let them out to tell my children about the fun I used to have.

© Bobbi Rightmyer July 2008

Happy Sweet 16, Christine Nicole

2008-07-22T08:47:00.001-04:00

I remember just like it was yesterday, I was bringing her home from the hospital, all five pounds and 10 ounces of her. My third born … I was much more relaxed and at ease, compared to my actions after the birth of my first daughter. I was responsible for another human being, one that would depend on me for her every need, and would always be precious to my heart. I knew more about child rearing at this point, but what if I ended up scarring her for life? Could I protect her from all the bad in this world? I was still learning how to be a good parent, but I was no where near perfect.

The first few days, Christine battled jaundiced, so she spent most of her time lying in the cradle, which was in placed in the front door to catch the sunlight streaming in. She would sleep naked on top of a diaper so that the majority of her skin surface was exposed to the sun. Sunlight breaks down the bilirubin in the bloodstream and effectively does the same job as the “bili lights” found in hospital nurseries. That first week, we had to take Christine to the hospital every day to have her bilirubin checked, and then we went to Dr. Pam Johnson’s office for a weight check. As long as Christine’s bilirubin remained below a certain level, we could continue to keep her at home and I could continue to breastfeed. Many times, a jaundiced baby who is breastfed must be supplemented with formula to help remove the bilirubin – sunlight breaks down the bilirubin and the body's fluids help flush it out of the body through the bowels.

Needless to say, the first few weeks went by in a blur of eating, lab tests, and checking for stool consistency. She was so fragile and tiny, but she wanted to eat every few sours. Of course, one of the downsides of breastfeeding is I couldn’t be out of her sight for very long. Eat, diaper change, eat, rock, eat, sing, eat … days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and before I could stop to catch my breath, she was one-year-old. Planning that first birthday party was pure joy – Barney and Baby Bop. It seems so long ago.

The next thing I knew, she was in kindergarten. Where did the time go? I was so unprepared for helping her to learn to read and write. Amber and Marie learned to read and write quickly, but it soon became apparent that Christine was having difficulty learning to read. She was unable to sound out words phonetically; therefore she memorized all the words. When she would be reading and come to a word she didn’t know, you could watch her stop, look at the ceiling and mentally go through the files in her head. She would eventually come up with the word. But try and have her sound out the word, and she would be in tears within minutes.

Lucky for Christine, she had two wonderful teachers who helped us through kindergarten and first grade, Marsha Durr and Kay Mayes, respectively. Mrs. Durr was actually the one who thought that Christine’s lack of large motor skills was connected with her reading difficulties. Christine was very adapt at playing video games and using the computer, both of which involve fine motor skills, but she had difficulty jumping rope or pushing herself in a swing, both involving large motor skills.

So in addition to reading and writing homework, we began working with Christine to learn to jump rope, ride a bike, climb a tree, and push herself in a swing. As her large motor skills increased to the level of her fine motor skills, her reading and writing began to improve. By second grade, Christine had caught up with the other kids in her class and she was reading on a fifth grade level. She has never stopped and she is now in the top 10th percentile of her graduating class.

Just when I was certain Christine would remain 8 years old forever, she was preparing to attend the middle school. Now her friends were taking up a large chunk of her time. “Mom’s Taxi Service” was officially back into business again, and I began hauling her and her friends all over God’s green earth. Whereas, Amber and Marie wanted me to be silent and unseen, Christine welcomed my conversation in the car, and she and her friends enjoyed listening to the 80s music I was know for. It is kind of twilight zonish to have 12 year old singing to Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon, or Meatloaf’s Bat Out of Hell.

The day I had to help her decide on her class schedule for her first year in high school, I, of course, cried. She thought this was funny – “M … om get a grip!” But I couldn’t help it, my baby was growing up. She was a teenager with a mind, and strong will, of her own. No longer content to accept my suggestions on faith, everything had to be researched and one her way. Her freshman year was my first step at letting go. The school newspaper and year book took up a large chunk of her time. Working on the internet and listening to her music began to take presidency in her life.

In two weeks, my first born child will turn sixteen. I’m crying already, and each passing day just gets worse. Stuffed animals have been stashed away, Disney movies replaced with independent film, and musical taste now run to German and Swedish music. Riding bicycles has given way to her driver’s permit and the summer vacation is spent researching college options and working to build her savings account. These are things adults do and I am extremely proud of her, but I would love to keep her wings tethered a little longer.

We just recently completed her class schedule for her junior year of high school and she is looking forward to being in the new high school after fall break. I’m trying to be strong; I don’t want her to see me cry. I’m taking things one day at a time. This is the nature of things – you give them life, you raise them the best you know how, and then they are gone. All I can pray is that she will be healthy and happy and come home to visit every once in a while. In the mean time, I plan to spend as much time with this youngest child as possible before she heads into the great adventure that will be her life.

Happy Birthday Sweet 16, Christine Nicole Rightmyer – July 22, 2008.

© Bobbi Rightmyer, July 2008

In Which, Bobbi is Afraid of Clowns

2008-06-28T08:48:00.003-04:00

For the past few months, I have been blogging regularly on my newly formed website: Rightmyer Rants. On a recent post about the Kentucky Derby, I accidentally mentioned my fear of clowns. This was the one thing I meant to keep secret, but I blurted it out for the world to read. What was I thinking?

My family and a few close friends are the only ones who knew of my coulrophobia - fear of clowns. I have had a problem with these creepy, white-faced, red lipped mutants most of my life. As an adult, you would think this phobia would lessen, after all, I am a grown up - aren't I? But noooooooo, my fear of clowns increases with each exposure until I'm sure one day I'm going to be so frozen with fear that a clown will be the end of me.

I have been known to run down Main Street if a clown approaches me, leaving my children to fend for themselves. I have been known to climb over my children when a clown would approach me in Rupp Arena during the Ringling Brothers’ Circus (this has happened twice!). I have been known to run screaming out of a local Wal-Mart from just the sight of a Ronald McDonald statue. Okay, I never claimed to be a rational person.

People who know of my fear have asked me, "Were you scared by a clown when you were a child?" But my answer is always, "No." I don't have any vivid memories of a specific time in my childhood when a clown scared me. I have vivid memories of clown "attacks", but one doesn't stand out any more than any other.

Recently I may have found out where this strange phobia originated into my nightmares. I am addicted to the old television soap opera from 60s, Dark Shadows. I can remember running home from the bus every afternoon to catch each episode. I thought Barnabas Collins was the most wonderful thing since sliced bread. I wanted to be a vampire just like him! This television show was the beginning of my obsessions with all things vampiric, but that's for another story or blog.

Anyway, for the past two years, I have been renting Dark Shadows from Netflix, all 104 discs (there is 26 Collections with each collection containing 4 disc; I think I did the math right?!). The past few months, I have been renting, Dark Shadows: the Beginning, which is the first 210 episodes before Barnabas Collins joined the cast. I'm sorry, I digressed. Back to the coulrophobia.

During an early episode of Dark Shadows, David Collins is in a Fun House and there are clown faces in the funky, fun house mirrors. Watching that episode, I felt like I was having an out of body experience. My heart rate was racing, I broke out in a cold sweat, and my hands were shaking so bad, it took me three attempts to hit the STOP button on the remote.

When my hubby ran into the living room to see what was upsetting me, I had to leave the room while he watched the icky clowns on the television screen. Later that night, I told him I thought that might have been the moment in my childhood everyone is always trying to get me to remember. Not a physical encounter with an alien clown, but a dream sequence on a television show. Like I said, I never claimed to be rational.

Of course, clowns in movies occur on a frequently increasing basis. I guess the first on my list would have to be Tim Curry’s portrayal of Pennywise the clown in Stephen King’s 1990 movie, IT. Tim Curry has been a favorite actor of mine since The Rocky Horror Picture Show, but playing Pennywise leads him down a much creepier pathway. Other scary “clowns” include Jack Nicholson as the Joker in Batman, the evil clown doll in Poltergeist, and even Kevin Smith, my husband’s favorite writer/director, has Vulgar the Clown as mascot for his View Askew Productions.

There are also scary clowns on television and it is these intrusions into my life that I sometimes don’t have any control over. You never know when a clown will show up on a commercial while watching a television program. A new commercial from E-Trade depicts a baby using the internet and he has a clown standing behind him (he apparently earned enough money on E-Trade, he was able to buy a clown). The funniest line of the commercial is when the baby says, “I underestimated the creepiness factor.” In Living Color’s Homey D. Clown was just plain mean and evil; “Homey don’t play that.” Krusty the clown from the Simpson’s is a crude caricature of a demonic clown and I love the quote from Bart Simpson, “… can’t sleep, clown will eat me.” You also have repeats of Bozo the clown, not to mention, Ronald McDonald; what kind of an icon has a white painted face with big red mouth and nose?

The television is also a place to find other people who are scared of clowns. One of my current favorite programs if Bones on the FOX network. David Boreanez – from Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel fame – plays FBI Special Agent Booth, and he is afraid of clowns. One episode from season two had Booth pulling out his gun and shooting the clown-shaped speaker on top of an ice cream truck. He spent several episodes in therapy over this incident, but I was secretly cheering his decision to kill a clown.

There are movies that I won’t ever watch, based purely on the titles. For example: A Thousand Clowns (1965), Killer Klowns from Outer Space (1987), Shakes the Clown (1992), Dead Clown (2003), Fear of Clowns (2004), and Fear of Clowns 2 (2007). There are many others, but need I say more?

On a scarier note, John Wayne Gacy used to dress up like a clown for neighborhood birthday parties, typically for children age 8 to 12. He is the serial killer who murdered more than 30 young men and hid them in the floorboards of his house. Makes you wonder exactly what goes on during “Clown College?” Just one more reason to stay away from clowns.

I’m going to leave you with two clown quotes. The first one is courtesy of Saturday Night Live:

“To me, clowns aren’t funny. In fact, they’re kinda scary. I’ve wondered where this started, and I think it goes back to the time I went to the circus and a clown killed my dad.”
--Deep Thoughts by Jack Handey

The second quote is from Rob Zombie’s House of a 1000 Corpses:

“When escaping someone named Dr. Satan, never accept a ride from an evil clown who says, ‘I’ll take you to a doctor.’”
--Captain Spaulding

So, if you invite me to a party, don't invite any clowns or other creatures dressed in funny costumes or wearing full face paint. Of course, I probably wouldn't attend the party any way, what with my agoraphobia and all. What ... I didn't tell you about my fear of public places ...

© Bobbi Rightmyer, June 2008

Everyday First Responder

2008-05-28T08:49:00.000-04:00

You know the old saying, “everything happens for a reason?” Well, I’m a true believer in this proverb because I have lived long enough to see the consequence of actions. My youngest daughter, Christine, has recently come to believe in this too, after our dog, Bubby sustained a serious laceration to his front leg.

For the past year, Christine has been seriously thinking about her future and the career opportunities open to young people. She is excellent in academics and she has a curiosity about different job perspectives. In contemplating her course curriculum for her junior year of high school, she has decided to pursue the medical program at the Harrodsburg Area Vocational School. Her reasoning behind this is because she wants to help people.

She has toyed with the idea of being an emergency medical technician, a paramedic or a firefighter, and she has also researched the Peace Corp and the National Guard. She really wants to be involved with the Peace Corp and she feels that medical training, in addition to a college degree, will help advance her down this pathway. She is excited about getting her certified nursing assistant license so she can work with patients to see if she would enjoy being a nurse, but she doesn’t feel like nursing is the exact medical field she wants to follow. She does like the idea of being a first responder and administering help in emergency situations.

To help further her interest in healthcare, I pulled out several of my old nursing books and she has already been reading up on the systems of the body and the diseases connected to them. She already knows much of the terminology, picking up many things from me when I talk about medical procedures, but she has never really had any first hand experience with illnesses or trauma. The day Bubby cut his leg, this all changed.

It happened on a Wednesday afternoon and it was a beautiful outside. I had come home for lunch at noon and after feeding and walking Bubby, I chained him outside to enjoy the afternoon. I knew Christine would be getting home early and she could take him for another walk.

I was sitting at my desk writing when I heard Bubby give a couple of yelps. When I looked at the clock, I saw it was two o’clock, so I assumed Bubby was barking a greeting to Christine. You know what they say about people who assume things. Christine came in the house and dropped her backpack by the front door, then called for Bubby. She is used to him running up to her the minute she walks in the door, so she asked me where he was. I told her he was out in the front yard.

“He didn’t bark at me – usually if he is outside, he barks when I walk up.” We both headed for the front door. My first thought was he had broken free and run down the road; this is something he has done before. When Christine got to him, she noticed his left front leg was dripping blood.

Near my front porch, I have a small garden that is planted in and around and old glass water jug. This jug had its top broken off last year and I hated to trash it, so I turned it into a mini greenhouse to use as a focal point near the porch. Bubby had gotten into the flower garden and stepped on this glass jug, breaking off a large chunk of glass that sliced open his foreleg.

When Christine yelled Bubby was bleeding, I grabbed a roll of paper towels and headed out to see what the problem was. When I saw blood squirting from his leg, I knew we were in trouble. The paper towels quickly proved to be inadequate and I sent Christine after old towels. Applying pressure, we both tried to calm the dog and prayed for the bleeding to slow down. After ten minutes, with towels duct taped around his leg, we loaded Bubby into the car and headed to the veterinarian.

On the way into town, Christine kept Bubby calm and helped hold pressure on the wound. The first thing the vet tech did was weigh Bubby, but we tried twice before getting an accurate weight. He was becoming agitated and this only caused the blood to flow more freely. As a nurse, blood doesn’t bother me, but there was a tremendous amount splattered all over the white floor. Christine turned pale and I had her sit down, afraid she might pass out. My husband gets light headed with just a few drops of blood, and I became concerned Christine might be the same way, but she was fine after sitting down.

Bubby ended up having to stay over night at the vets. He was sedated, the wound was cleaned and then repaired; the artery had been cut, as well as the muscle, tendon and ligaments. Fortunately, he will make a full recovery.

So this was Christine’s first foray into emergency medicine. I think she did good keeping Bubby calm and helping to apply pressure; she doesn’t think she did well, mainly because the blood really scared her. I tried to explain that emergency situations are different when they concern your family, and Bubby is a member of our family.

Christine is more eager now than ever about entering the medical field. She’s not sure if this will be her major area of study, but she’s thinking ahead to the future. She has heard the stories of how I had to struggle to raise her two older sisters when I was a single mother, so she feels the medical training will be something she can fall back.

“Mom, I can always get a job as a nurse if I have to, but I don’t want this to be the only thing that defines me.” She looks at healthcare as an insurance policy for the future. Sometimes it scares me to think I have a child who is wise beyond her years.

© Bobbi Rightmyer, May 2008

Testing the Waters

2008-04-28T09:04:00.000-04:00

Sloshing through another winter’s day, the bright sunshine gives a false hope of approaching spring. One day school is closed because of snow on the road, and the next day the temperature is close to 50 degrees. Ah, springtime in Kentucky.

With the impending change in seasons, I can’t hold back the advances my youngest daughter is making toward adulthood. Christine will be my last chick to leave the nest and I am trying really hard to focus on the positive aspects of her new life instead of the desire to hold her close to home. As parents we hope to send our children out in the world with all the tools they will need to survive. We have nurtured them from birth to the terrible twos, from toddlerhood to tweens, and from teenager to adult and we should be happy with the people we have produced. But inside most parents just want their kids to be healthy and happy and to lead a good life, and to keep them close at heart.

Recently I caught myself watching Christine from afar, trying to picture her out alone in the world. Today, I watched as she determinedly peeled potatoes for supper. For years, I have tried to teach her how to peel potatoes, and I must admit I’m not a very good teacher. I am sure there are cooks out there who will gasp and groan when I say that I hold my potatoes in my hand and peel with a paring knife toward my thumb. This is the way I learned and this is the way I have always done it, so naturally I wasn’t going to be able to teach Christine the right way to peel a potato.

On this particular night, Christine was peeling potatoes with her new potato peeler. After so many failed attempts to peel potatoes with a paring knife, on her weekly shopping trip with her Daddy, she found a vegetable peeler. Now she is contentedly peeling potatoes with speed and I don’t have to worry about her cutting her fingers off. They say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, but the young ones don’t have a problem. Christine wanted to improve her skill at peeling potatoes and she kept at it until she got it right. Now, if I could just learn to use the vegetable peeler.

While parents are always trying to teach their children, it is amazing what we can learn from our children. I’ve learned many things from my children over the years. I’m so proud of Christine because for the past two years, she has been walking on a daily basis, drinking water and hardly ever drinking sodas. I want to try to emulate her throughout my life but my laziness and lack of will power seem to always win out. Christine has adapted her lifestyle around what she sees me do. I know I shouldn’t drink Cokes and Christine knows I shouldn’t drink Cokes, the problem is, I seem to be addicted and try as I might, I can’t give the habit up. Christine has seen my struggle and she has chosen to limit her intake of soda and increase her intake of water. In this case, my daughter sets a better example than me.

Christine does her own laundry every week and I am proud of that fact. I know when she goes to college, I won’t have to worry about her wearing dirty clothes. She knows what it takes to keep her clothes clean and she realizes that if she doesn’t keep them clean, she won’t have anything to wear. This practice has evolved as she has grown, starting with helping me do laundry and graduating up to her independent use of the washer and dryer. She knows what detergent to use as well as fabric softeners, temperature settings, and load size. This is one thing she won’t have to learn at college, because she’s already an old pro.

Christine has been cooking for a while now, and she enjoys it. I don’t necessarily enjoy cooking, so it’s great to have your teenager cook supper. Chicken fettuccine alfredo, chicken fried rice, and tacos are three of her favorites. She has made a fine art out of searing cubes of chicken for many of her signature dishes. She loves to cook the chicken, but hates to cut it up – kind of like me with pumpkins, I love to carve them, but I hate to gut them. She cuts chicken breasts into bite-size chunks and them throws them in a pan with a pat of butter or olive oil. She cooks the chicken until the outside cooks to the color of caramel and then she can use it in a variety of dishes.

Changing subjects, Christine has been studying for her driver’s license and has signed up for driver’s education in the fall. My baby driving – eeck! – be still my heart. I realize that the sooner she gets behind the wheel and learns, the better off she will be, but I’m not quite ready to let go. I already blame my grey hair on my oldest daughters learning to drive, so you would think I would be ready to teach Christine, but I’m not. With all the dangers on the road, I just don’t want her out there alone, but I know she will eventually have to join the “driving nation”. Driving is a major wing-testing task that teenagers can’t wait to undertake and parents want to delay.

A parent’s job is never done, and I guess that’s a good thing. As much as I hate the thought of Christine leaving home, I know that she has to do this in order to grow up. If I could protect her from all lifes little ups and down, I would, but that is not really possible. All I can do is hope I did a decent job of raising her and that she will be able to take care of herself. She has her visions of the future, and as long as her vision includes me every once in a while, then I will be happy.

© Bobbi Rightmyer, April 2008

Harry Potter Fever

2007-07-08T09:46:00.000-04:00

For anyone who is infatuated with the adventures of Harry Potter, this month has been a long way coming. The fifth movie – Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix – will be hitting the theaters in about two weeks, with the final book installment – Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows – following a week later. For everyone who has wondered how this successful series will end, the seventh book promises to tie up all the loose endings and give us insight into the future of Harry and his friends.

I read the first book - Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone – during the summer of 1997. At that time the book’s author – J. K. Rowling – was a complete unknown, but I tried the book because of a recommendation from a friend. I was hooked after the first chapter and couldn’t wait for the next books. Book two and three – Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets and Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban – were released in the United States in 1999, so I got a double dose of my favorite characters. By the time the third book was published, Harry Potter had become a world-wide success and plans for a major motion picture were in the works.

The United States release of the fourth book – Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire – proved to be a marketing darling. Book sellers around the country were having Harry Potter release parties and staying open until midnight the Friday night before release. I remember being at “Girls in Action” mother-daughter camp with Christine, who was getting ready to turn eight, that Friday night, so we picked up a copy as soon as we got back to town. This book was huge – 734 pages – but I had consumed the book by Sunday night. Christine and Keith were listening to the book on tape, so it took them a few days longer to finish the book, and I was not allowed to give away any spoilers until they were done.

The year 2001 did not bring a new book, but most fans were satisfied with the release of the first motion picture. Seeing the entire fictional world on the big screen was wonderful and the imagery was almost exactly the way J. K. Rowling had written them. Although there were many things from the book left out of the movie, it was still a great two and a half hours with Harry and his friends. I still recommend people read the books, because no matter how well done a movie is, the book is always going to be better. The second film installment was released in 2002 and it was also a huge box office success.

There was a three year wait between books four and five, but when Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix was released during the summer of 2003, it was well worth the wait. At a hefty 870 pages, it was a thrilling read, even though it left me with cramped hands. Of all the books to date, this one is my favorite. It is full of action, mystery, love and danger. The characters are growing up and Rowling’s prose has grown with them.

The third movie installment hit the big screen in the fall of 2004, and the sixth book – Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince – was released during the summer of 2005. I was waiting for the doors to open at Wal-Mart on the morning of the release and I spent the entire day devouring the book. Again, Christine and Keith were listening to the book on tape, so I had no one to talk to about the shocking ending for almost a week. The sixth book proposed more questions than it answered and it left me longing for the seventh, and final, book, which I already knew was going to be at least two years from publication.

The fourth movie hit the big screen in 2006 and this was the first movie that we saw at the drive-in instead of the cinemas. Although it was good as a stand alone movie, I thought there were too many major plot points left out of the film. Because of the length of the book, many characters were scaled back, or not used at all, but I understand the time restraints necessary to get a film on the screen. This is the only thing worrying me about the upcoming release of the fifth movie. The fifth book is the longest to date, and I’m afraid there will be much left out of the movie. I guess I will see in about two weeks.

Even though I am anxious for the next movie, the thing I can’t wait for is the new book. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows is to be the final chapter of this series. I have known since the beginning that J. K. Rowling would only be writing seven books, so this will be a farewell to Harry and his friends. My only hope is that all my questions will be answered and all the loose ends tied up by the time I get to the last chapter. The long anticipated seventh book will be released the weekend of Christine’s 15th birthday, and she has been telling everyone that I will be reading all weekend. “Mom is more excited about the new book than my birthday,” she tells people with a laugh. Thankfully, she and Keith will be going on a father-daughter outing in Louisville that Saturday, so maybe I’ll be finished reading by the time they get home. I plan to be at Wal-Mart when the books go on sell at midnight – that will give me all night and day to read.

If you have never read any of the books in this “children’s” series, I highly recommend them. They are for children and adults a like and make wonderful entertainment when read to your children or grandchildren. I also recommend the books on tape which are narrated by Jim Dale, an awarding winning vocalist who uses over 100 different voices for all the characters. His voice is captivating and these tapes or CDs make great entertainment when going on a long road trip or on vacation.

So don’t be upset if the door goes unanswered and the telephone answering machine is on during the July 21st weekend – I’ll have my nose in a book and I’ll get back to you as soon as I’m finished. And if anyone else finishes the book by that Sunday, give me a call because I will be dying to talk to someone about the ending.

© Bobbi Rightmyer, July 2007

Grandmothers and Gardens

2007-04-08T09:56:00.000-04:00

I have so many fond memories of working in gardens with both of my grandmothers, but I also have different memories for each grandmother. When I think of gardening with Granny Devine, I think of snowball bushes, elephant ears and sage. When I think of gardening with Granny Sallee, I think of peonies, poppies and corn. Each woman had a major input in my life and I can contribute most of my gardening knowledge to them.

Most of my gardening memories with Granny Sallee centered around activities on the farm in Bohon. The farm was 20-plus acres, but the house and Granny’s flower beds were on the one acre that was closest to Bohon road. I love this old farm house and have had many dreams of living there throughout my life. The house sits back off the road and at a slight angle, so when you come down the curving hill past the Bohon Christian Church, the house is sitting in the bend of the road. I spent many happy days roaming this farm and my most favorite memories are of helping Granny with her flowers.

Peonies were always Granny Sallee’s favorite and she had many clumps that ran along a ridge line on the upper side of the house. I know these clumps of flowers were old because I can remember Granny telling me she had planted each and every “start”. She loved these flowers so much, that when she and Granddaddy finally had to move to town, she brought some peonies with her and planted them near the clothesline in the back yard. Peonies were one of the first flowers that I planted 14 years ago when we moved to our home. I started out with three peonies; one red, one pink, and one white. Over the past few years, I have divided my original clumps and transplanted them in several areas of my gardens. The majority of my peonies are now along the length of our driveway where they are thriving in the full sun.

Granny Sallee also loved her poppies. She had these close to the house and also near her rows of peonies. These large orange flowers were always so welcomed in the spring, being some of the first to bloom after the tulips and daffodils. These beautiful orange flowers had deep black stamens and when the seed pods formed they added interest in the gardens. Granny would leave the seed heads throughout the summer, and then in the fall, we would shake the seed pods to distribute the tiny seeds in the beds. These little seeds would guarantee an abundant supply of poppies for next spring.

Corn was a crop that not only reminded me of my Granny, but my Granddaddy as well. Granddaddy had an old wooden corn planter and I can remember helping to push the planter into the tilled soil, spread the handles open and drop a seed into the shoot. When the planter was removed from the soil, the seed would be planted at the right depth for growing wonderful sweet corn. I would also give each corn planting a dipper of water from the five gallon buckets we had hauled from the house. I still grow corn in my backyard garden, but it is mainly for the memories and to have the stalks for fall decorations. In my garden, there is too much competition with the raccoons for the fresh corn. Now, I get most of my fresh corn from the Farmer’s Market on Thursday afternoons, and I let the raccoons have the few ears that I grow in the garden.

Snowball bushes were one of Granny Devine’s favorite plants. At her small home in town, she had a large bush next to her clothesline in the back yard. Every year, Granny would clone babies from her snowball bush by pulling down branches from the main plant, burying part of the stem in the ground and covering with a rock. It would take a year for the stem to take root, but once it did, Granny would cut it from the main plant and dig up a baby snowball bush. Although I don’t have one of Granny’s snowball babies, I have started several different families from one original bush that I planted about eight years ago.

Sage is one of my favorite herbs to grow and again, I learned to grow sage from Granny Devine. Granny would always have sage growing in her flower beds, and during the summer and fall you could always find paper towels laden with sage leaves drying all throughout the house. Granny always used her fresh dried sage in her Thanksgiving and Christmas stuffing. I dry some sage throughout the year, but I also let several clumps of sage go flower because the flowers are very pretty and they attract beneficial bugs to my gardens. Also, sage gives off a refreshing scent when you brush against it while walking in the garden.

Elephant ears are the one plant my Granny Devine loved that I have always had trouble growing. Granny grew her ears in plastic buckets; during the winter she stored them under her house and during the summer she would pull them out into the gardens. She was also able to produce babies from her elephant ears. I have grown elephant ears in the past, but I don’t like to baby these tender plants. The few times I have grown elephant ears, I have planted them straight into the garden soil. I did have one elephant ear that wintered over and grew larger the next summer, but most of the time, the bulbs die because I don’t dig them in the fall for storage.

As my children grow older, they have varying interest in gardening. Christine does not have any interest in flowers or gardening, but Amber and Marie are beginning to enjoy working with different plants. Amber has planted numerous flowers at her new home and she is taking an interest in learning about new plants. Marie’s best friend also has a new home, so Marie has been helping her start a new flower bed, as well as planting a few flowers at her own home. I have enjoyed being a resource person to answer all the gardening questions and I look forward to teaching the next generation of our family about gardening.

© Bobbi Rightmyer, April 2007

Chip Off the Old Block

2007-04-08T09:49:00.000-04:00

Recently, Christine and I have been watching Kids by the Dozen, a television program on families with multiple children. It is amazing to see how these special families operate. All of the families profiled have twelve or more children and most of them are home schooled. I can’t wrap my mind around twelve children, much less home schooling these twelve kids.

The Duggar family of Arkansas has been our favorite family to date. They have 16 children, all ranging in age from 18 to less than a year old. There are only two sets of twins, so this mother has actually been pregnant 14 times, and the couple says they are not finished yet! How do you raise 16 children? I must admit, this family is much more organized than mine. A homework assignment was the biggest family project, to build their dream house—which took them over three and a half years.

Christine and I have watched several shows featuring the Duggar family and we are just in awe of how this family works. I know Christine misses not having any younger brothers or sisters, but after having three children, I was ready to quit. Three children were definitely all we could afford to raise. I wanted my kids to have all the opportunities available to them and I wanted them to experience life and make decisions on how they wanted to live their lives.

When my girls were younger, they were involved in many types of extra curricular activities and sports. I wanted the girls to be involved and find what they liked to do. Swimming lessons, tennis lessons, horseback riding and soccer; these were just a few of the activities that my girls tried out, but decided not to pursue. Girl Scouts, 4-H, and mission groups at church; these were a must for all three girls and I think these groups helped my girls grow into the women they are today.

Even though none of my girls are interested in crafting, knitting or sewing, I do know they benefit from the projects I make. I just envisioned my girls growing up and crafting with me, but that never happened. They have their own hobbies and interests. At least Marie is interested in one area of creative arts; she likes to work with stained glass and mosaic tiles. I try to encourage her, but sometimes life gets in the way of being creative. Amber and Marie both love to go hunting and spending time on their dad’s farm. Christine’s world revolves around music.

Of course, as a mother, I have tried to push my likes onto my children. When Christine was three years old, I wanted her to take dance lessons. I had always wanted to give Amber and Marie dance lessons, but I could never afford it. So when Christine came along, I thought she would be my little ballerina. For two years I practically drug her to dance class; tap shoes, ballet shoes, tutus and all. She was so cute when she was all dressed up. I loved preparing for and attending her dance recitals, but after two years, I realized, Christine hated every minute of it. It was my dream for her to be a dancer, not hers, and once I realized this, I stopped making her go to dance class. For the next three years, Christine was happier on the soccer field.

Now that Christine is a freshman in high school, her interests have turned to journalism and a growing obsession with living in Finland. Yes, Finland, as in cold, snow. Land of the midnight sun. For several months now, she has been researching the foreign exchange student program for the United States and Finland. She would like to go to school in Finland during her junior year of high school. I realize this would be a wonderful experience for her, but just the thought of one of my children being half way around the world is really upsetting. I may not get to see Amber and Marie as much as I would like, but at least they are in the same county and I can get to them in just a few minutes. How would I get to Christine in a hurry if she was in Finland? At least we have a year and a half for more discussions and research before having to make a decision.

Christine is in the Newspaper I class at school and she has been the only freshman in a class full of juniors and seniors. She has been researching and writing numerous articles all year, as well as taking photographs for the paper and the year book. Her main goal this year has been to learn and master the editing program for putting the newspaper together and to learn some basic journalism skills. She has already applied for Newspaper II class
next year. Maybe Christine is going to be our “chip off the old block”, after all, Keith’s career revolves around the television media, and this is my 10th year as a contributing writer for Mercer’s Magazine.

© Bobbi Rightmyer, April 2007

Living Green

2007-02-02T09:42:00.000-05:00

This is going to be the year when our family takes recycling into the 21st century. Global warming is having such an impact on the condition of our world that if we don’t do something soon, our grandchildren and great grandchildren may not have a world to call home. I realize that individually, my family may not be able to have a major impact on global warming, but we can change our lifestyle habits and do our part. If every family would take recycling and conservation seriously, then maybe one by one we can make a difference.

I have always been a big re-user of newspapers and junk mail because these are both biodegradable. I use newspapers to start the foundation of new beds in my gardens. When I decide on the location of a new bed, the first thing I do is clear the area and then lay down thick wads of wet newspaper to cover the ground. After sprinkling a small layer of garden soil over the newspaper, I start layering the bed with leaf mulch, grass clippings and other yard waste. These garden beds are best when allowed to “rest” through a few seasons before planting, but they can be planted immediately, depending on how much organic material you have on hand. Because I have one acre to care for, I have pounds and pounds of yard waste to supply new beds. The newspaper barrier will break down in the soil almost immediately and provides the moist dark environment to attract earthworms.

Earthworms are the workhorses of the garden. Why dig and till the soil when you can wait a few months and let the worms do their thing? Worms live a charmed life—all they do is eat, poop and reproduce. Their voracious appetites allow them to eat all types of garden and kitchen waste and all that eating leads to pure gold; composting gold that is. As the earthworms tunnel their way through layers of newspaper, leaf mold and grass clippings, they leave behind aerated soil and worm castings, which fertilize the new soil.

With the introduction of a paper shredder to our home office, junk mail is a pleasure to deal with. I have always composted my junk mail, but because much of the paper is colored or thicker than normal newspaper print, it takes much longer to break down. Now, whenever we bring junk mail into the house, we automatically shred it. This eliminates the chance of identity thief, plus the shredded junk mail decomposing much faster because of the smaller size. This fall, I dug several large holes throughout my gardens in anticipation of planting new trees this spring. All fall and winter I have been filling these holes up with shredded junk mail and kitchen scrapes. I keep the holes covered with a layer of leaves and every few weeks I stomp down the holes and stir them up with my garden claw; this allows air to circulate which improves the decomposition. When it comes time to plant my trees, I will have nice big holes full of nice rich compost. There is nothing better for a new tree than loads of organic matter.

Aluminum cans have always been a recyclable item in our home, typically being sold by the pound. The past few years, our use of aluminum cans have greatly decreased, so we are lucky to get $25 a year for our cans, but in past years, we have gotten upwards of $100 a year for cans. However, food cans is not something I have been in the habit of recycling. It has been so convenient to just throw these cans into the trash and forget about them, but Christine has made me see the error of my ways. Since this past November, we have religiously been washing out cans and removing the labels (which go into the compost piles) before throwing the cans into the recycling bag. I have also used soup cans to sprout herbs and veggies in my kitchen windows.

Glass jars are an item that we reuse more then recycling, because there are so many uses for old glass jars. They can be used for all types of storage problems, from the kitchen to the garage. Baby food jars are great for small nuts and bolts, pickle jars are good for refrigerator storage, and commercial size jars can hold sugar, flour, or tea. During the holiday season, I always make fireside coffee, hot cocoa, or spice tea mixes as well as soup and cookie mixes to give to family and friends. Collecting jars throughout the year is a must in order to have enough containers for my gift giving.

Currently, our major recycling problem is plastic bottles—water, soda, milk, mustard, ketchup, you name it and we are drowning in plastic. Two liter bottles are great for making mini greenhouses for spring transplants, but there are only so many you need before you become over-run. Water bottles are reused as often as possible, but we still accumulate dozens within a month’s time. Although it is a little more trouble to recycle these bottles, it is well worth it in the long run if it keeps them from entering our landfills. Cat litter buckets are great to use in place of a five gallon bucket for yard projects and milk jugs can be turned into bird feeders.

I still have relapses, I am human after all, but Christine is trying to keep me straight. As a matter of fact, she has taken on the responsibility of the plastic bottles and soup cans; I just have to provide routine transportation to the recycling center. I know what you are thinking, my life is busy enough without adding trips to the recycling center, but fifteen minutes every other week is not too much to ask in the war to save our planet. Once it becomes habit, going to the recycling center will become routine. Start small, save newspapers or compost kitchen waste, but just get started. Our future generations are counting on us all.

© Bobbi Rightmyer, February 2007

Mercer County Tourism

2007-01-04T09:36:00.000-05:00

With tourism dollars leaving our county in record amounts, I think it is the responsibility of all Mercer Countians to help promote tourism. We are the ones living in this wonderful community, so we are the perfect people to describe all the breathtaking things Mercer County has to offer.

Since the Legend of Daniel Boone is no longer running, I feel a void in our community. Mr. Ralph Anderson and his wife have been so generous with supporting tourism in our county, but now it is up to the rest of us. In addition to telling people about tourist spots in Harrodsburg and the surrounding county, we need to be visiting these places ourselves.

With gas prices sky rocketing over the past year, traveling has become an expensive venture for most middle class families. Why not make up for that expense by visiting the tourist attractions in our county? Then after re-visiting these places again for yourself, tell all your friends and family about the beautiful things Mercer County has to offer.

Old Fort Harrods is still open for business, even with the closing of the legend of Daniel Boone. The Black Box Theater is currently the home of a traveling Smithsonian exhibit for the month of January and this is a great example of historical family entertainment. How long has it been since your family took a tour of the Old Fort or the lovely museum? Maybe this summer when you have family visiting from out of town or out of state, take them on a tour of the Old Fort and museum. Go on a picnic under the huge Osage orange tree in the front lawn of the park or have a family reunion in the shelter house and playground. Area. All money spent at the park will help to benefit the entire county and help build back our tourism trade.

Shaker Village at Pleasant hill is another historic site that many Mercer Countians take for granted, but this is another wonderful place to bring your family and friends. With 2900 acres of land, 40+ miles of walking trails, 34 restored Shaker buildings, and a historic boat ride, Shaker Village has something to offer everyone. You can learn about the history of the Shakers in Kentucky, learn about their religion and their trade business with the outside world.

Shaker Village also has numerous workshops and events help throughout year, so there is always something to do. Overnight lodging is also available and all 81 rooms are in restored Shaker buildings. Equestrians can bring their own horses to the village and ride on numerous marked trails. Music programs and Shaker Life and Beliefs talks are available through the spring, summer and fall as well as agricultural talks. There are on going demonstrations in wood working, broom making, coopering, and spinning and weaving. You can also visit the demonstration herb and vegetable gardens, along with the apple orchard. Animals abound on the Shaker Village land—horses, sheep cows, donkeys, ducks and geese—and there are usually plenty of baby animals, too.

The historic downtown area of Harrodsburg is also another tourist attraction for visitors. Not only are there many restored buildings and businesses, there is also a walking tour to allow for up close investigation of the many historic homes around the community. The Ragged Edge Theatre offers numerous presentations throughout the year, showcasing the many talented people of Harrodsburg and Mercer County. The water fountain park located next door to the Ragged Edge also hosts many musical performances during the summer. Downtown Harrodsburg is also host to car shows and motorcycle events which gives out-of-towners a taste of our quaint little town.

Historic Beaumont Inn is another tourist attraction with lots of home town appeal. Not only does the Inn offer spacious overnight lodging and good old Southern hospitality, but it is the home of the yellow-legged fried chicken and the best corn pudding since Granny Sallee’s. The Beaumont Inn Gift Shop offers eloquent gifts and souvenirs from around Kentucky. The Old Owl Tavern is the newest attention to the Beaumont Inn family, and as the name states, it is like a quaint old tavern. The tavern is a wonderful place to come and unwind after a long, hard days work.

Out in the county, Mercer is home to the Brightleaf Golf Course and Motel. This 18-hole golf course sits in the middle of some of the most beautiful land in the county. The greens are to perfection and the obstacles and scenery make this one of the best courses in the state.

Of course, Mercer County has numerous horse and cattle farms for the viewing. Anderson Circle Farm and the “Cow Palace” are big attractions and they also offer a large area for receptions, meetings, or any type of party you can think of. Many of the horse farms in the county offer riding trails, workshops and lessons

The Twin Hills Drive-In is another treasure that I personally am glad to see reopened. You may not think of a drive-in as being a tourist attraction, but it really is. There are people who come from Franklin, Woodford, Boyle and other counties—just to be at a real drive-in theatre. Drive-ins are an endangered species, so Twin Hills has the possibility of being a huge tourist draw for our community.

As 2007 becomes our new year, let’s remember all the wonderful entertainment our community has to offer. I know I have forgotten someone and it is not my intention to slight any business or organization, I just want to draw attention to all the wonderful opportunities available in Mercer County. The future also will give us the new Agricultural Museum, which I am excited about because it will be within walking distance of my home. So make a resolution this year to visit some or all of the attractions within our community and spread the excitement to all your friends and family. After all, in order for our area to grow, word of mouth is a powerful tool.

© Bobbi Rightmyer, January 2007

The True Meaning of Christmas

2006-12-02T09:26:00.000-05:00

What is the true meaning of Christmas? That is a question that has been debated for decades. Peace on Earth, good will to men … how do you accomplish these with today’s fractured families? Families are spread from one end of the continent to another and by illness, divorce, and just plain age difference.

How do we keep the perspective of the Christ child when there is so much greed in the world? So much terrorism? Christmas has become a commercialized holiday with the slogan being, “More, more, more.” Television commercials start to bombard us well before Halloween and they continue right up until Christmas day, bypassing Thanksgiving all together.

I know it is natural for kids to think of Christmas in a material way. Heaven knows, my girls are the same way, but how to parents separate the true meaning from the commercial meaning? There is a fine line to follow between the two

First, children need to be taught when they are young that the Christmas season symbolizes the birth of Jesus. They learn this in the home and during Sunday school. My girls know all about Baby Jesus and the birth story, but does this help them forget about Santa and presents? No, but at least they know the reason for the season. Once children have become school age, their attention turns to Santa and how many toys they will receive under the Christmas tree. Public school systems are not allowed to teach the religious implications of Christmas, so it is up to parents to provide reinforcement.

Second, parents need to participate, with their children, in religious ceremonies during the holiday season. Our church has an Advent service to usher in the holiday. From the hanging of the greens, to the Advent flags, to the joyous sounds of the choir, our Christmas would seem empty without this traditional service. We also like to attend a living Nativity at a local church. There is something wonderful about visiting a living Nativity and imagining what it was like to live in the days of Jesus. Of course, on Christmas Eve we attend a quiet church service, as a family. After opening mounds of presents at Nana and Papa’s house, we go to a simple candle light service and observe the Lord’s Supper. Of course, after church we head to MaMaw’s house for more presents, but the point is, we try to incorporate the religious with the commercial so the girls don’t think Christmas is all toys and gifts.

Just before bedtime on Christmas Eve, we leave the cookies and Mountain Dew for Santa and carrots for the reindeer, but we always add a special touch. Every since my 19 year old daughter – Amber – was a baby, we have left a piece of birthday cake, complete with a birthday candle, for the Baby Jesus. This may seem like a silly thing to do, but it is a religious tradition my family counts on each year.

Another thing parents can do is help their children participate in activities that help other people. Every year, we faithfully give to the Harrodsburg Love Tree. It is interesting when you take your child shopping for a toy to be given away. O course, they always want the toy for themselves, but after explaining there may be some children who don’t get any presents for Christmas; your kids will quickly get in the spirit. There is also the opportunity of giving by participating in the Angel Tree or Toys for Tots programs. You can go as a family and pick out presents for one certain child, or an entire family. Children also love donating food to the Mountain of Love or the Christian Life Center. This makes them feel useful, and special, and it helps to show them giving can be just as fun as getting. I know my youngest daughter has become attached to an elderly lady who lives across the street from her Mamaw, and every year at Christmas, Christine wants to give her a little something. It makes a parent feel proud when their children start to care about giving to other people. Of course, this is the same child who has a Christmas list two pages long, but she is leaning that giving is important.

I know the commercialization of Christmas will never stop, but if families work together, maybe they can control the greed, just a little, and be able to teach their children a valuable lesson. And even though my youngest still wants all the latest toys under the tree, just yesterday she told me, “Mommy, Christmas is for giving”. Maybe I haven’t done such a bad job parenting after all.

© Bobbi Rightmyer, December 2006

Daddy - Daughter Date Night

2006-07-02T10:40:00.000-04:00

Keith and Christine recently had a special “daddy-daughter” date night by going to Cincinniati to see a rock concert. Sugarcult—Christine’s current favorite band—was playing at a small arena and tickets were very reasonably priced. Christine was so excited, and Keith went thru pure heck to be able to take her.

Because the concert was on a Friday night, it was still a work day for Keith. Normal work days for Keith are 9 to 6 with him getting home sometime between 8 and 9, depending on the day. On this particular day, he switched shifts with a videographer from the night shift, so the day of the concert he had to get up at 2 a.m. and be to work by 4. By the time he got home it was two in the afternoon, so he only had time for a short nap before they had to leave the house again. Between the Diet Mt. Dew, caffeine pills and caffeine gum, he was determined to take Christine to the concert and they were going to have a great time.

Naturally, I was worried the entire time they were gone. I worried that Keith hadn’t had enough rest. I worried they would be in a wreck or worse. Normally, when there is a concert, I would be with Keith and Christine, but recently, my anxiety has been preventing me from being in large groups of people. I don’t know why I worry more about them when I’m not with them than I do when I’m with them. Does that make sense?

Anyway, I got a voice mail from Keith about 8:30, and they were already at the arena and they were already talking with some members of the band. It sounded like they were having a great time. I couldn’t wait until they got back home to tell me the whole story.

While they were gone, I worked in the yard. I’m totally seeing my front garden in a new light. The front yard garden should be very eye catching and contain samples of plantings from all over my yard. I learned this recently when I was admiring a new spring store display at the Shaker Village Craft Store. The wonderful display was fresh and pretty and put me in the mood to redecorate. To the average customer, this is just a pretty display set up for people to look at, but working behind the scenes, I realized, this display exhibited a wide range of the items sold in the gift shop.

This is how I see my yard—a one acre lot surrounded by native shrubbery with numerouse gardens interspersed throughout. I have a shoe garden, a rock garden, a prayer garden, a veggie garden, a treehouse garden; I could go on and on. So, my front garden should be a colleage of all the gardens on our property. I settled in for an afternoon of planning, dreaming and digging in the front garden. Little did I know that another family would greatly limite my ability to concentrate on particular areas of the front garden.

The Robin family had decided the make the English Ivy growing up the anchoring wire to a utitlity pole near out mailbox their home for the summer. I first discovered the nest when Kieth was helping me prune the ivy into shape. I want the ivy to grow all the way up the wire, but it has stopped half way up and is now growing back down to the ground. This makes a wonderful cascade of English ivy, but it needed the dead wood removed and be pruned into shape. Keith pointed out the next to me while I was up on the ladder, so I had the bird’s eye view—four baby blule Roin eggs tucked all together in the next. I immediately quite pruning the ivy; that project will just have to wait until the baby’s have flown the nest.

I remember the summer of Junie B. Jones—the mother wren that raised her young ones in the hanging basket on our front porch—and I started to get warm fuzzy thoughts about how much fun Christine and I had while watching the life span of her children. This year, Christine is too old to have much interest in the gardens, so I’m usually alone in the garden with no one to enjoy the little treasures I discover every time I am outside. But that’s okay, I still enjoy being outdoors and maybe one day, I’ll have grandkids to enjoy the gardens with. I decided that I would chronicle the lives of Ms. Robin and her family

© Bobbi Rightmyer, July 2006

Pippin

2006-06-08T09:38:00.000-04:00

Our family recently added a new member to our fold and our lives have been turned upside down—literally. Pippin is the new family dog, an Australian Shepherd mix, who was eight weeks old when she came to live with us in April. It did not take long for Pippin to wiggle her way into our hearts, but we forgot how much work a puppy can actually be.

Since we lost Pebbles at the first of the year, our life has had a small void we had not been able to fill. We did not want to jump right into having another dog, so Christine had been researching dog breeds to try and find the perfect dog for our family. She had narrowed her choices down to a Chow or an Australian Shepherd; they are supposed to be excellent family dogs. Christine was adamant that she wanted a larger dog, like Pebbles was. She loves her Nana and Papa’s Yorkie—Tyler—and her cousin Ethan’s dauchsand—Ellie—Christine had her heart set on a dog that could run with her in the yard and go on long walks.

My main requirement for a dog was one that was easily house-broken and would be a great guard dog. I always felt safe at home alone with Pebbles, because she was alert to strangers and anything out of the ordinary. I think Keith’s main requirement was to have a dog that was easily trainable and would come whenever he would whistle. Even though our hearts ached for Pebbles, we wanted to take our time before jumping in with a new dog.

That is, until one weekday when I was home alone and I received a terrible scare. I had worked nine days in a row with no days off, so I was spending my only day off cleaning house. It was late afternoon on a Wednesday and I was up on the step ladder cleaning out the top cabinets in my kitchen, when the doorbell rang. Since I’m not used to having company during the week, I couldn’t imagine who could be at the door. I climbed down off the ladder and brushed my hands on my dirty house-cleaning clothes as I walked to the front door.

When I opened the door, my stomach knotted up and I had a hundred thoughts go through my head—all in the matter of two or three seconds. The person at my door was someone from my sister’s past, and definitely not the person I wanted to see at my door. I went from shock to terror to hysteria all in the matter of those few seconds. I didn’t know if this person had a gun or knife—I thought he was going to kill me. My brain could not comprehend that this person had the nerve to show up at my house. I had the screen door locked and I was screaming at this person to get away from me and my house. I was in a state of panic and all I could keep thinking was that if Pebbles were still alive, she would have torn into him. Pebbles never did like this person and she had scared him away from the house several times over the past few years.

The man did leave without causing any problems, but I was still hysterical. I ran around the house to make sure all the doors and windows were locked, and it took me two tries to finally dial Keith’s phone number. He was able to calm me down slightly on the phone—at least I was able to talk without crying when we finally hung up the phone. It was time for Christine to be getting home from school, so I drove my car to the bus stop because I was afraid for her to walk the short distance to our home. Once she was in the car safely, we went to my mom’s to spend the rest of the afternoon. When we left mom’s house, I took Christine to the Mercer Public Library and she checked out two books—one on Chows and one on Australian Shepherds.

I truly believe in Divine intervention and if God wants something to happen for a family then everything will fall into place. I think God knew how scared I was without a guard dog, so he set a series of things into motion. Number one, the books Christine checked out of the library. Number two, the next day, I got to watch the Noon News while eating lunch and WLEX always has a dog from the Humane Society at the end of the 12:30. Guess what kind of dog was featured on this particular day? An Australia Shepherd puppy. During that one moment, I realized that God was pointing out the next Rightmyer dog. I immediately called Keith at work, but as luck would have it, he was not at the TV station to see the puppy. He did call the Humane Society and found out that out of a litter of eight, they had four of the puppies ready for adoption. Even though Keith had to jump through a bunch of hoops that day, God seemed to be lending a hand because each time Keith thought the puppy adoption would not go through, another option would present itself.

So, twenty four hours after the scare of my life, our family was the proud owner of a new puppy. I know it will be a year or more before Pippin will become a guard dog, just having another dog in the house already makes me feel at ease. Christine has taken over the main duties of caring for and training up Pippin, but Keith and I still have to “baby-sit” because we all forgot how much energy a little puppy can have.

As the three of us get used to sharing our home with our new four legged friend, there are three other members of our home that are having a little more difficulty adjusting. Mudball and—Earl or Frankie, depending on if you’re talking to Keith or Christine—are our two male cats, who are brothers that turned a year old in April. They are adjusting more smoothly than our older cat, Sassy. She has been the rule of the roost and it takes her much longer to warm up to new people, or in our case, a new pet. For the first two weeks, Sassy spent most of her days in the bathroom, hiding from the world. She would only venture out after Pippin had gone to bed with Christine.

A new puppy in the house, maybe we are crazy, but I like to think that it was Divine intervention. God seemed to know that there was something missing in our lives and our home. Christine now has a new best friend and we have a guard dog in training. All is right with the world, but if you’ll excuse me, Pippin is chewing on my work shoes again.

© Bobbi Rightmyer, June 2006

Mrs. Robin Red-Breast

2006-05-28T09:30:00.000-04:00

Keith and Christine recently had a special “daddy-daughter” date night by going to Cincinnati to see a rock concert. Sugarcult—Christine’s current favorite bands—was playing at a small college and tickets were very reasonably priced. Christine was so excited, and Keith went through pure heck to be able to take her.

Because the concert was on a Friday night, it was still a work day for Keith. Normal workdays for Keith are mornings with him getting home sometime between 8 and 9, depending on the day. On this particular day, he switched shifts with a videographer from the night shift, so the day of the concert he had to get up at 2 a.m. and be to work by 4. By the time he got home it was two in the afternoon, so he only had time for a short nap before they had to leave the house again. Between the Diet Mt. Dew, caffeine pills and caffeine gum, he was determined to take Christine to the concert and they were going to have a great time.
Naturally, I was worried the entire time they were gone. I worried that Keith hadn’t had enough rest. I worried they would be in a wreck or worse. Normally, when there is a concert, I would be with Keith and Christine, but recently, my anxiety has been preventing me from being in large groups of people. I don’t know why I worry more about them when I’m not with them than I do when I’m with them. Does that make sense?

Anyway, I got a voice mail from Keith about 8:30, and they were already at the arena and they were already talking with some members of the band. It sounded like they were having a great time. I couldn’t wait until they got back home to tell me the whole story

While they were gone, I worked in the yard. I’m totally seeing my front garden in a new light. The front yard garden should be very eye-catching and contain samples of plantings from all over my yard. I learned this recently when I was admiring a new spring store display at the Shaker Village Craft Store. The wonderful display was fresh and pretty and put me in the mood to redecorate. To the average customer, this is just a pretty display set up for people to look at, but working behind the scenes, I realized, this display exhibited a wide range of the items sold in the gift shop.

This is how I see my yard—a one acre lot surrounded by native shrubbery with numerous gardens interspersed throughout. I have a shoe garden, a rock garden, a prayer garden, a veggie garden, a treehouse garden; I could go on and on. So, my front garden should be a collage of all the gardens on our property. I settled in for an afternoon of planning, dreaming and digging in the dirt. Little did I know that another family would greatly limit my ability to concentrate on particular areas of the front garden.

The Robin family had decided to make the English Ivy growing up the anchoring wire to a utility pole near our mailbox their home for the summer. I first discovered the nest when Keith was helping me prune the ivy into shape. I want the ivy to grow all the way up the wire, but it has stopped halfway up and is now growing back down to the ground. This makes a wonderful cascade of English ivy, but I wanted the dead wood removed and it needed to be pruned into shape. Keith pointed out the nest to me while I was up on the ladder, so I had the bird’s eye view—four baby blue robin eggs tucked all together in the next. I immediately quit pruning the ivy; that project will just have to wait until the babies have flown the nest.

I remember the summer of Junie B. Jones—the mother wren that raised her young ones in the hanging basket on our front porch—and I started to get warm fuzzy thoughts about how much fun Christine and I had while watching the life span of the wren’s children. This year, Christine is too old to have much interest in the gardens, so I’m usually alone in the garden with no one to enjoy the little treasures I discover every time I am outside. But that’s okay, I still enjoy being outdoors and maybe one day, I’ll have grandkids to enjoy the gardens with. I decided that I would chronicle the lives of Ms. Robin and her family.

Two weeks after finding the robin’s nest with eggs, three of the eggs hatched. The little featherless birds were so ugly and so totally dependent on their mother and father. The good thing about robins is that the pair of them helps with the baby care. With most other birds, the male leaves the care of babies to the mother. Both mother and father would chirp noisily at me every time I would come near the nest. I had to limit my gardening to small spurts, whenever Mr. and Mrs. Robin were not feeding the little ones.

After the first week, there were only two babies left. I never did find out what happened to the third baby. There was no sign of it falling out of the nest, so I guess I’ll never know what happened. Now there are just the two babies and I can see growth in them every day. The ugly little babies from a few weeks ago have now turned into miniature versions of their parents. Their feathers have come in and every time something comes near the nest, they start to chirp and open their little beaks for food. They really are cute now.

I am sure there are more robin families in my gardens because I’ve noticed several of them chirping loudly at me when I’m working in the yard. I usually don’t go looking for the nests, but occasionally, like the one in the ivy, I will happen upon one during my work in the garden. I think they are finally getting used to me being around, because now whenever I sit down to rest, the robins will peck at the ground looking for worms or nesting materials. They are so cute when they cock their little heads and look at you.

When you are planning a new garden, think about planting for the birds. Bird watching is a wonderful way to pass a quiet evening. It is calming and relaxing to just sit and listen to the different songs each bird makes, to watch them splashing around in a birdbath, or even flitting through the sprinklers. Now if you will excuse me, I think I’ll go do some bird watching.
[PS: since this article was written at the end of May, I have had four other Robin families give birth. Watching these babies was as much fun as watching the first ones!}

© Bobbi Rightmyer, May 2006

Pebbles

2006-04-28T09:40:00.001-04:00

The loss of a family pet can have a major impact on the entire family. It is like losing a member of the family. Recently, our family experienced the death of our beloved dog, Pebbles. Although we have lost many pets over the years—mice, hamsters, fish, gerbils, iguana, cats—losing Pebbles was the first dog Christine had ever lost and she was taking it very hard.

Pebbles was adopted from the Mercer County Humane Society over ten years ago—Christine was about three at the time, so the two of them have grown up together. Pebbles was a Sheltie-mix and she was approximately one year old when she came to live with us. Keith had seen a picture of this cute dog in the Harrodsburg Herald and the next day he and Christine went to check it out. It was love at first sight and they adopted her on the spot. He took a picture of Pebbles to bring home and show the rest of the family because it would be two days before she was ready to come home.

Christine picked out the name Pebbles after the Flintstone’s Pebbles and Bam-Bam. Amber and Marie were also excited about the new addition to the family; they had been wanting a dog and we just kept putting it off because we had an indoor cat. Pogo was Keith’s cat and she didn’t warm up to new people or animals easily. After Keith and I got married, it took a long time before Amber and Marie were able to even get near Pogo to pet her, much less pick her up. We were afraid a dog would throw her into shock. We lost Pogo over four years ago—she was over 18-years-old.

It didn’t take Pebbles long to become one of the family. She was most attracted to Marie, although she loved to be around all of us. After the first few weeks, Pebbles was not the same skinny dog we had originally brought home. She was happy and healthy and had put on some weight. Apparently, Pebbles had come from an abusive situation, because she had a tendency to “cow down” whenever anyone raised their voice.

I could never get Pebbles to come to me when I would call for her—she always seemed to run in the opposite direction when I would call her. But she would always come to Keith’s call or whistle. Pebbles would do almost anything Keith would tell her to do, with the exception of getting her to stay down at meal time.

Pebbles loved table scraps and she was not above begging everyone for a bite. We knew table scraps were probably not good for her, but she loved them so much. We also had a hard time keeping her out of the cat food, even though she always had food in her dish—she would always sneak back and finish up whatever the cats had not eaten.

Even though she would not come to me when I called her, Pebbles would follow me around the house like a shadow. Whenever I was home she would slept at my feet or follow me from room to room—even the bathroom. Pebbles could be a nuisance at times, but we all loved her and we could tell that she loved us.

Pebbles would get so excited when it was time to go outside. She would jump and prance around the door waiting for someone to open it. Then she would charge out the door like the Calvary coming to the rescue. She would run several laps around the front yard just as fast as her legs would let her. She would sometimes bark and root her nose into the ground. We still have a few bare spots in the yard from where Pebbles got so excited.

Pebbles was a wonderful guard dog because she would bark at any noise she would hear outside. Once she became used to friends or relatives coming to visit, she would become excited to she them—running to the person or trying to jump up on them. The jumping up on people was something we were still working on with Pebbles, but we weren’t having much success.

Over the past few years, Christine and Pebbles became the best of friends and you could tell they loved being with each other. Sometimes Christine would but the leash on Pebbles’ collar and take her for a walk, other times they would just run and romp in the backyard or the back field. I can still see Christine rolling around on the lawn with Pebbles jumping on her, trying to lick her face.

Although we still have three indoor cats, Christine misses Pebbles and she has started to talk about finding a replacement dog. Although there is no substitute for Pebbles, it would be nice to have another guard dog. We are trying to put Christine off—we want her to get over the initial shock of losing her first dog before we try and become attached to another one.

Pebbles is buried in our pet cemetery, along with Pogo the cat, Tully the bird and Snowball the rabbit. I will occasionally see Christine near the pet cemetery and my heart aches for her sadness. Although we all miss Pebbles and I know one day we will have another dog, there will never be a replacement for Pebbles. She will always remain in our hearts.

© Bobbi Rightmyer, April 2006

April Showers Bring May Flowers

2006-04-03T10:46:00.000-04:00

After a mild winter and a stormy spring, flora is springing to life all over my gardens. Since I normally leave flower heads and seed stalks un-pruned during the winter to help the birds survive, spring chores are never ending.

As I prune off the thick stems of my Autumn Joy sedum, I have been rewarded with the new growth emerging from the heavily composted soil. These wonderful plants are a staple in my gardens, mainly because they are so maintenance free. Sedum requires very little attention during the growing season and it is very drought tolerant. There is lovely foliage all year long and then the flower heads start to form in late July—starting out green then turning to pink before finally reaching the deep red color that I love.

Asters are one of my favorite “wildflowers”, but they have a tendency to leave tall airy stems that need to be removed before you can appreciate the new greenery. Through experimentation I have learned that if I keep the new growth pruned back until the first of July, then the stems will not be so tall. I have some that I prune and some that I leave natural. There is just something about those tall graceful white flowers floating above all the over the flowers that makes September a spectacular month in my back gardens.

Of course the daylilies and Irises are growing inches every day and it won’t be long before they will burst into bloom. After the daffodils and tulips fade away, the daylilies and Irises will be ready to replace the garden with new colors of orange, yellow, purple and pink. I am attempting to have some type of flowers blooming all through the seasons, so when one flower have past bloom, another type is ready to take over.

The redbud trees are absolutely beautiful this year. Our first redbud tree is the most extraordinary—the tall airy branches are just hanging full of pink blossoms. We also have about eight other redbuds which are much younger than our first, and they are all blooming this year. I was lucky I didn’t lose any because of the drought last summer.

However, I wasn’t so lucky with one of my river birch trees. Even with watering during the long hot summer last year, a newly planted river birch has died. I also lost my large weeping cherry tree in the front yard. I actually cried when I realized the cherry tree did not survive the drought or winter. We plan to remove the tree and replace it with a redbud.

The hostas in the Rabbit Hole garden are up about six to eight inches, each clump looking much bigger than last year’s plantings. All my ferns seem to be reemerging after a short winter’s rest. My anticipation for this garden is very high this year; this will be the fourth year of really hard work and I’m hoping it will reward me with a spectacular display. I still have lots of bare spots in this garden, but I must wait for my plants to mature so I can divide and transplant some more. I will eventually have this type of garden surrounding three sides of my yard; even if it takes my twenty more years to get there.

I already have the lettuce bed and potatoes planted and my rhubarb and asparagus are coming on strong. This will be the first year that I will be able to harvest any asparagus; I have been patiently waiting three years for it to mature enough to used. It is very exciting when a vegetable or plant becomes “of age” under all the care you have given it. I have started some other seeds in the house, but it will be a few more weeks before I can transplant them into the garden—tomatoes, squash, cucumbers, and pumpkins. Gourds also can’t go into the ground until the soil temperature is a constant 78 degrees—hard to obtain in Kentucky’s finicky weather.

I am expanding our front garden this year. With a one acre lot, it takes a long time to finally get enough plants, time and energy to completely fill the property. My goal is to only have to do maintenance on my gardens during my retirement years. I enjoy maintaining, pruning, trimming and shaping plants into unique forms and shapes. I want the formal lawn to be completely removed and be replaced with native wildlife and flowers.

Speaking of wildlife, I think we have a fox that lives in the field behind our home. I saw the red bushy tail a few times, always late in the evening. I believe it may be one from the litter that was found near McRay Feed; McRay’s is just behind our house. I have not intentions of bothering this fox; unless he bothers me first.

I haven’t seen any snakes yet, but the bees are working overtime and I have seen an occasional butterfly. There are now so many pairs of Robins in our garden that I have lost count of them. When I was trimming the English ivy from the front garden, I found a nest way up high in the tangle of vines that is growing up the guide line for our utility post. There are four bright blue Robin nests happily resting in the nest. Through out the day, Mommy and Daddy Robin can be seen taking turns watching the nest and sitting on the eggs. There is also another nest in the jungle of English ivy that has grown up the rod iron post near our front door. It too, has four bright blue eggs.

The mourning doves are nesting in the large pine trees on the north side of our house, although I have not seen any eggs yet. Doves have a tendency to make flat nests on the branches of the trees, and they appear very fragile. However, with the population of doves in our yard, I’m not complaining.

The rabbit population has exploded, but I’m not complaining. There is enough native vegetation in our yard that the rabbits don’t tend to bother my vegetable garden. Nothing is more calming than sitting in the backyard near twilight and watching all the rabbits venturing out. Old Mr. Groundhog is still living under my old shed, but as long as he stays out of my veggies, I’m not going to complain. But the first time I catch him destroying some beloved plant, he will be history in my garden. We had to get rid of one about ten years ago because it was eating the veggies; so far this one is leaving things alone.

Spring as finally sprung for 2006—I am just praying that 2006 turns out to be a better year than 2005. Go outdoors and enjoy the scenery—after a long winter’s rest, there are some new friends waiting for you in the garden.

© Bobbi Rightmyer, April 2006

Kentucky Weather ... Friend or Foe?

2006-02-08T09:44:00.000-05:00

Kentucky weather…you’ve got to love it. Everyone who lives in our beautiful state will understand when I talk about my love-hate relationship with our weather. On the one hand, over two-thirds of the time, the weather is perfect—just the way I like it. It is that last third of the time that I begin to wonder if waiting out the nasty weather in favor of those special times I enjoy is really worth it. You be the judge.

As I sit writing this, we are two weeks into the New Year—one the night of the full moon. Right now it is snowing on our wonderful neighborhood. The snow falling is huge wet flakes and the ground is covered by a blanket of fluff about three inches deep. It is the soggy type of snow that makes good snowmen and snowballs, but it quickly melts as the temperature rises. It seemed strange to see our quiet lawn bathed in snowy flakes, when just yesterday the sun was shining and the temperature was near 70.

Yesterday I drove to town to run some errands. I had dressed in jeans and a long sleeve shirt and I felt overdressed as I was locking the front door and stepping into the sunshine. As I pulled out on the road I could feel my spirit improving. By the time I rolled into town, I had my window down and was singing at the top of my voice to Green Day’s American Idiot, blaring from my car speakers. It was just like the perfect spring afternoon. This is the kind of day that makes me want to get out in the garden and start digging in the dirt. I can’t wait to get started on my spring gardening chores. I’ve started amassing quite a collection of garden and nursery catalogs, so plans to expand my gardens are growing in my head.

The day before this wonderful afternoon, the skies had been grey—overcast, with periodic rain showers. These are the kinds of days when I enjoy reading or writing. I like to let my imagination roam free and not have to worry about the ordinary stresses of the day. These are the days I seek comfort food and familiarities— snuggled under a furry blanket or quillow with a bowl of popcorn or a sandwich of graham crackers and marshmallow fluff and an ice cold glass of Coke. I can let my mind follow down the path of another author’s imagination, or I can explore the out-reaches of my own mind's eye and capture it in words.

The problem with our changing Kentucky weather is that the changes in temperature seem to correlate to the temperaments of family and friends. I’m usually more out-going and friendly on a bright sunny day, but on a dark overcast day, I’m usually lost in my own head and I don’t notice anyone or anything around me. This can sometimes make me appear cold and stand-offish—which is far from the case. I’m actually quiet shy and I don’t like to put myself out there. I’m the type of person who loves to help you do the work, but I don’t like to take the credit for it. I would rather stand back and let people admire something I’ve done, than have them stop and say something to me. I like to admire my handy work from afar.

Actually our Kentucky weather sometimes helps me, because if it were not for the rapid changes in weather, I might not get anything done. I’m more active in the yard when the sun is shining bright and the temperature is about 70. I get a wide range of days like that and these times are when I get my gardening done. Problem is, I get tired of doing the same thing for long periods of time. When I change my activities with the changes in the weather, I have a wide range view of my life.

The problem is, that this past week—Kentucky saw all three of the weather conditions that influence my behavior. Like my Granny Devine always told me, “If you don’t like the weather in Kentucky, then just wait a while—it will change”, I just wasn’t expecting to have the changes occur over a three day period. We went from 50 degree weather and overcast with occasional rain showers to bright, sunny almost 70 degree weather to snow blanketing the ground and the temperature hovering at the freezing point. The weather changes have been good for my activity level, but it has been horrible on my sinuses—my body doesn’t know what condition to take care of.

Christine enjoyed the brief snowstorm by taking picture of the fluffy flakes that fell from the sky. Being the lask parent that I normally am, I had allowed Christine to be up way past her bedtime, so she had thrown on her clothes and was standing in our front yard at two o’clock in the morning taking pictures with our digital camera. She has such an eye for photography and she loves to get interesting, unusual camera angles. She can see art in everyday items or activities, turning even ugly ordinary trash into fascinating designs for the sight.

This past week, on the bright sunny day, as I was giving thanks for the wonderful weather, I realized I was getting my hopes up prematurely. I know we aren’t even half way through winter yet; so we will have plenty more cold frosty nights to go before spring actually arrives. I shouldn’t go counting my blossoms until the color starts showing up in my gardens.

All the photographs accompanying this story were taken by Christine Nicole Rightmyer, age 13, of Mercer County. She is the daughter of Bobbi and Keith Rightmyer and the granddaughter of Bobby Gene and Brenda Sallee and Christine Holtzclaw Rightmyer, the late Dr. HD Rightmyer. She is in the 8th grade at King Middle School and a member of the Harrodsburg Baptist Church. She enjoys a wide range of music, photography, working with animals and helping others.

© Bobbi Rightmyer, February 2006

A Wrinkle in time, Narnia & Oz ... Oh, My

2006-01-03T10:33:00.000-05:00

It is really hard for me to believe that a new year has started. The year 2006 will bring many first — Keith and I will celebrate 20 years together; Christine will begin her first year of high school and my niece—Ashley—will graduate high school; and Marie and Amber will turn 22 and 24, respectively. In addition to these wonderful family events, 2006 will bring some long awaited books and movies. The long-awaited seventh book in the Harry Potter series will certainly cause a commotion when it is finally released, not to mention the millions of dollars that Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix will make when it hits the silver screen. Some of the biggest news I’ve heard for 2006 is the talk of turning all seven books of The Chronicles of Narnia into motion pictures. I spent many months of 2005 awaiting The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe to arrive on the silver screen. Narnia was my favorite place to visit as a child, competing with only the Land of Oz and the Tesseract — or a Wrinkle in Time — as a desired reading series.

The Wizard of Oz, of course, was turned into a magnificent motion picture over 50 years ago and remains a beloved movie for children and adults of all ages. There have been several animated versions of Oz, as well as motion picture sequel. The Return to Oz was a favorite of Amber and Marie when they were growing up, and Christine has seen it numerous times as well. We used to have a home-recorded VHS tape of the movie, and we watched it until we literally wore it out. I haven’t been able to find this movie in DVD form, but I will continue to search the internet until I find one to add to our collection.

What many people don’t realize is that The Wizard of Oz is only the first book a 16 book series on Oz. Although the original Oz will always remain my favorite version, I have read the other books in the series several times each. Frank Baum had such a vivid imagination and I could picture his beautiful scenes in my head with each word I read. Now that Hollywood has had such great successes with the Harry Potter series, the Lord of the Rings trilogy, and The Chronicles of Narnia, I hope some wonderful motion picture studio will re-do The Wizard of Oz. Just thinking about what types of special FX could be used to breath new life into this story—it sends tingles down my imagination.

Believe it or not, A Wrinkle in Time was my favorite book as a child, mainly because it was the first fantasy book I ever read. I discovered Charles Wallace and the “Tesseract”—a made-up word meaning a wrinkle in time—while I was still in elementary school. I used to work as a library aide at Mercer County Elementary School and I became wonderful friends with Joy Gash, who was the current librarian during my early years. She is the one responsible for turning me onto the world of fantasy books—I’ll never begin to repay her for her suggestions. The books I read as a child have stayed with me through adulthood. The same books I read as a child are the same books I read to my children growing up. Amber and Marie were not readers the way I was, so I can remember reading to them about the wonderful lands of Oz, Narnia, the Tesseract, as well as other fantasies we found along the way. Christine is an avid reader like me—she loves the Harry Potter series, she has read several books in the Oz series and she is currently reading The Chronicles of Narnia. Christine has also introduced me to several new fantasy lands — Earagon, the Dragon Riders, and A Series of Unfortunate Events.

The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe was first introduced to visual media as an animated feature. Although sections of the cartoon are faithful to the book, it left so much out that I was actually disappointed the first time I saw it. C. S. Lewis had such an imagination and he established the land of Narnia with his words and phrases, not to mention the Biblical references and his interest in good versus evil. It is not often that a children’s book can offer morals and parables just like the Bible. It was these references that drew me to the rest of The Chronicles of Narnia after reading The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe for the first time. I can vividly remember reading this series of books to Amber and Marie when they were little. As a matter of fact, when Amber was 9 years old, she was in a play at the Old Fort Harrod summer workshop based on The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. I love to go back and look at the photographs from this wonderful play.

A Wrinkle in Time is another series of books that I would love to see on the big screen. Although this book was turned into a television movie in 2005, it left a lot to be desired and it found me craving to see it on the big screen. With the advancements in special FX, this book deserves a chance to be presented to children around the world in the same way as I envisioned it in my head. Just as sells of the books, The Wizard of Oz and The Chronicles of Narnia have increased after their motion picture debut, a blockbuster movie could spur the increase of book sells for A Wrinkle in Time.

So, this winter when your children are complaining, “There’s nothing to do”, go to the Mercer Public Library and check out a good book. Reading to younger children not only encourages their imagination, but sets a good example in choosing classical books from the past. The Christian Book store — on the south side of the Harrodsburg Wal-Mart — carries The Chronicles of Narnia as well as several reference books discussing the series. What a wonderful lesson to teach your children — reading about Narnia and talking about the Biblical references it contains. Keep reading as a family and when the time arrives, enjoy the motion pictures versions of your favorite books—it’s a great way to stay connected to your family in our fast paced world.

© Bobbi Rightmyer, August 2006

The Stockings of Christmas Past

2005-12-25T10:43:00.000-05:00

The Christmas season is upon us again. Where did the year go? I remember when I was a kid, I didn’t think Christmas would ever arrive. Now, it seems like I just took the tree and decorations down and it is time to put them up again. My goal this holiday season will be the same as it has been the past few years, trying to keep things as un-commercialized as possible. I am trying to keep gift giving simple—something homemade and gift cards. Gift cards have revolutionized the way people think of Christmas shopping. What is more perfect than a gift card from your favorite store or restaurant?

Although I sometimes get a hollow feeling whenever I give the girls money or gift cards for birthdays or Christmas, I know deep down that they are a perfect gift because they can get exactly what they want. With my increased use of gift cards, I have eased my guilt of not shopping by including these cards with something I have made with my hands, like candy, party mix, knitted scarves or shawls.
Christmas stockings are another way to use creativity with gift giving. When I was a child, our Christmas stockings always contained nuts, an assortment of fruit and a candy cane. I am amazed at the fond memories I have of digging into my stocking on Christmas morning and pulling out an apple, banana or orange, and then reaching even further into the stocking and hauling out the walnuts one by one. Even as I grew into a teenager, I looked forward to reaching into my stocking on Christmas morning.

I have continued the tradition of Christmas stockings with my own kids, but the booty in their stocking is more likely to be a CD, DVD, or the ever popular gift card. I always enjoyed finding just the perfect gift to place in the stockings; and I would normally wrap these small gifts to prolong the enjoyment. For sentimental reasons, I usually have to add walnuts and a piece of fruit, along with Christmas candy.

Although our Christmas stockings have changed over the years, everyone in my family has his or her own stocking holder. My stocking holder is a racoon, because I like to collect racoon Christmas ornaments. I bought this stocking holder the Christmas of 1979, the year of my first marriage. When Amber was born, she got a cat holder, mainly because it looked like a cat we owned in 1982. Two years later, Marie got her stocking holder and it is a rocking horse that has “Baby’s 1st Christmas 1984”. Keith and I were dating in 1986, so he added his elf stocking holder to the collection of ours on display. When Christine was born in 1992, we chose a Santa mouse; the last stocking holder we have added to our family. Even though we always have a special Christmas stocking for Amber and Marie’s boyfriends, we are holding off on additional holders until we have official members of the family. Of course, I am looking forward to adding stocking holders for each of my grandkids, in the future.

My Mom still has the Christmas stockings that Brent, Amy and I had as a child. They always hang on the brick hearth, along with additions for Amber, Marie, Ashley, Christine and Ethan. During the Christmas season of 2004, Mom made each of us a new Christmas stocking. Amy had seen a picture of stockings made from an old quilt and she convinced Mom to make them. Amy had an old quilt and she drew the pattern and helped Mom cut out the pattern pieces. Mom worked hard for several weeks to make sure all of us had stockings. She presented us with these stockings on Christmas Eve and this was the best gift I could have received. I loved the way the stockings looked and I was thrilled because it was something my Mom had made for us. Last year I used these stockings instead of our usual ones. This year I am trying to figure out some unique way of displaying them.

I am sure most of you have some type of tradition involving Christmas stockings. Maybe you are traditionalist and use real stockings instead of the famous red and white flannel ones. Maybe you don’t hang your stockings until Christmas Eve, or maybe you hang them all season. Whatever your traditions include, it is fun to add something new to your holiday rituals. The ideas are endless, like the stockings my Mom made, or an idea from Martha Stewart, or just a wonderful display in a department store. Traditions begin one at a time, so why not make stockings your theme for the year and add something new to your Christmas holiday season. Twenty years from now your family will be saying, “Remember when…”

© Bobbi Rightmyer, December 2005

My Guardian Angel

2005-11-19T10:26:00.000-05:00

Do you believe in angels? No, I seriously mean angles—guardian, friendly, dead family member—that remain in your life, even when their physical body has left this Earth? Does God really exist—well isn’t that the $100,000 question? People have been asking that question since the creation of time. So, putting God and Jesus aside…do you believe in angels?

I believe my sister is still watching over me. I hear her in my head and I can replay some of the things I remember her saying. Just little phrases, or sayings, or some dumb cliché` that remained permanently etched into my subconscious. Amy was so frank about everything, she would put everything on the line and she would tell you how she was feeling—but then she could never be on time for anything! She was a contradiction in nature.

Daily, something will remind me of Amy, and it doesn’t have to be anything major. I miss her more with the little things than I ever could the big things. Our first Christmas without her is coming up and I think the entire family is dreading it. I find myself more remininceful as the days start to shorten and autumn starts to arrive. Amy loved the fall as much as I did. All the pumpkins and gourds, corn shocks and apple cider, she loved all the excitement that comes with a crisp fall day. I catch myself feeling so guilty because I can go out into the yard and look at Gods gift of nature, but Amy can’t—at least not physically.

So I watch for her in the blowing breeze—any time the wind chimes sound I say, “Amy’s thinking about us”, and I smile. It gets me through the rough spots. I see her in the orangeness of my Cinderella pumpkin, I only have one this year with the drought and all, but I remember Amy every time I see the dark orange flesh of this wonderful fruit. I’ll get to carve it and light it and enjoy it, but Amy can’t—not really. My guilt consumes me the way that fallen leaves consume the lawn; I’ll eventually be covered in guilt for enjoying the natural beauty of autumn.

And what about Christmas? This first Christmas without Amy is going to be painful—I’m really not sure how I’ll survive, but survive I must. We must all put on a brave front and make the most of the holidays. I want to be closer to my family, so that will be the focus this year—trying to get the entire family together again. We need to maintain constant contact with all members of our immediate families, but this year there will be a hole in our family circle. Amy loved Christmas so much. She loved the shopping and planning and all the surprises. We combined a lot of family tradition along with individual heritage into our last Christmas together. It was almost like Amy had foresight into her future. She wanted Christmas 2004 to be the best Christmas ever—and she did everything in her power to see it was done with family love and memories.

We had two family reunions last year at Christmas time. The first reunion was for the entire Devine-Camden clan. All the cousins, uncles and aunts; all the sisters and brothers; we all had blood connection somewhere down the line. Amy was the one that suggested the reunion and she worked with Mom and several others to get the ball off the ground. We had so much fun meeting and talking with family that live right here in Mercer County. Every one knew everyone else and it was fun to have the family connections through my brain; plus trying to make all the names and faces line up into a semblance of order. Everyone was really happy to be involved in the get-together, all it took was a little nudge from an angel—Amy was practicing being an Angel and we didn’t even know it.

Amy wanted everyone to have handmade stockings for Christmas. It has always been her and he daughter—Ashley—‘s tradition to buy a new Christmas stocking every year. Amy had an old quilt and she wanted Mom to make stockings out of it. So she drew a pattern, traced it on the quit and cut it out. Then all Mom had to do was sew the pieces together. Everyone in our immediate family got a handmade stocking for Christmas last year, all thanks to Amy. She kept on Mom until Mom had made everybody one; and Mom was happy to do it. Mom has never been the one to come up with the ideas, but if she can see it in her head, she can make it. That’s the way I am, I have to see something before I can ever attempt to make it. We will all remember Amy at Christmas when we hang our quilted stockings—those stockings hold the belief and joy Amy felt about Christmas.

We loved to keep secrets, my sister and me. I kept the biggest one from her last Christmas. For years, Amy has collected Wizard of Oz items, anything that had to do with the book or movie. She has ornaments and Beanie babies and figurines. She has posters and purses and all types of Wizard of Oz collectables. Her newest acquisitions were three plates in a series—all with an original drawing from the movie embossed on them. She had found the Scarecrow, the Tin Man and Dorothy at a yard sale during the 2004 127 Yard Sale, but the Cowardly Lion was missing from the set. She didn’t care; she bought them anyway, knowing that one day she might be able to find the missing plate.

Unbeknownst to her, Keith had found the Cowardly Lion plate on e-bay and he bought it immediately, because it was the missing piece. I hid that plate right in plain sight of my sister from September until Christmas 2004 and she never found it. It was in its original box and I placed it in with our collection of DVDs and she never noticed it. So, Christmas 2004 was really special because, Amy finally got the Cowardly Lion plate to complete her set. She couldn’t believe I had kept it hidden from her. I’m just glad she got to enjoy the completed set before she died. Again, the Wizard of Oz will always remind me of Amy.

© Bobbi Rightmyer, November 2005

Knit One, Purl Two

2005-10-08T10:19:00.000-04:00

During my weekend crafting camp at Jabez, Kentucky this summer, I fell in love with a spinning wheel. I have always been fascinated by these wonderful inventions and the way they can be used to turn a glob of wool into beautiful yarn.

As I watched two of my fellow crafters spinning away, the slow spinning and twisting of the carded wool mesmerized me. Each night after class I would find a rocking chair near the spinners just to watch the empty spools fill with soft, fluffy yarn. I asked numerous questions about the spinning wheels and was ready to buy one of my own, before I realized one simple thing—I’ve never knitted a stitch in my life. I can crotchet, but I’ve never worked with two needles at a time. I made the decision that if I was going to ever own my own spinning wheel, then I needed to learn as much about yarn and knitting as I could. This is where my boss came in handy.

I have a group of ladies that I work very closely with at work. We always eat lunch together, and we plan the care and day-to-day activities of all our residents. Our little group includes myself—assessment coordinator, Nancy—our boss, Patsy—our activity director, Jill—our social worker, and Donna—our charge nurse. The five of us spend all our time at work trying to improve the lives of our residents. One new activity we have started is the Red Hat Society, yes—the same type Red Hat Society you hear about on the news. One of the goals we set for ourselves was collecting enough purple “fuzzy” yarn to make each lady in the Society a purple scarf for Christmas.

Nancy, the only experienced knitter in the group, offered to give us all knitting lessons—Jill and I were the only ones who took her up on her offer. So one Friday afternoon, just before we all left to enjoy the upcoming weekend, Nancy gave us a class in knitting 101. After several starts and restarts, many curse words, and a missed stitch the size of the Grand Canyon; I finally finished my first scarf over that weekend. I was so proud of myself. Of course, as any experienced knitter will tell you—piece of cake! This really is a simple pattern because it is all done in the knit stitch.

As I struggled with how to handle my yarn and my needles, I finally found my own rhythm and adapted techniques to suit any knitting situation. By the time I started on my fourth scarf, they were starting to look as perfect as Nancy’s first scarf. Practice really does make perfect. Another thing I noticed about knitting—it is relaxing. I can knit in front of the television, I can knit in the car; I’ve knitted at the drive-in, before it gets dark, and I’ve knitted at work on my lunch break.

I didn’t start knitting until the very end of July, and by the first of September, I had knitted 10 scarves that I thought were good enough to give away as presents. I donated two Wildcat blue scarves to the hospital auxiliary to use in a silent auction, as well as donating two more scarves to hurricane relief. As for the Red Hat Society scarves, Nancy has already done the majority of them, with help from Jill—I’ve yet to do my purple contribution, but there is enough yarn left for me to contribute at least one before Christmas.

As we have advanced with our scarf knitting, we decided that maybe we shouldn’t limit our scarf giving to just the Red Hat Society. We should make scarves for all our residents, so that gives us a big goal to work towards. My family may be sick and tired of scarves by the time 2005 is over with, because everyone is getting a scarf for Christmas this year; some of you may even get two.

The more I work with the yarn, the more respect I have for the craft of knitting. Number one, it is a lot of hard work to get wool sheared off a sheep and have it turn into a skein or ball of yarn to be used in a knitting project. It is really easy for me to go into Wal-Mart and buy several skeins of my favorite yarn, but what was it like before there was such a selection in stores? Crafters made their own yarn by experimenting with different textures and thickness of wool. Every type of yarn we can buy right now in a store—someone had to design that yarn from the ground up. Spinning is one of those lost arts that I want to learn more about; hopefully my knitting will eventually lead me into that direction.

My lunchtime friends and I are starting the first intergenerational 4-H/Homemakers Club at the hospital. We want to pair a 4-Her up with a Homemaker and let them work on projects together. We would like to start a knitting project, so Jill and I continue to knit scarves so we will be able to teach someone else how to knit when the time comes. We are hoping to gets lots of stories from our Homemakers so that we can keep a knitting journal—it will be filled with stories from the past and present. Not only will all the members of the club learn a new craft, but they will also be learning how to communicate, record, and preserve the past in a way that is pleasing. Every time I wear one of my first lumpy scarves, I’ll be filled with memories of the good times I had while I was making them.

What about you? What type of hobbies do you like? Knitting is no longer just for grandmothers, knitting is for everyone. Quilting has shown a rival In Kentucky, especially with Paducah’s Quilt Festival, why not research your entire old grandmother’s quilts and then make one for yourself. Or—photography is making a diverse change from bulky film to the digital age, why not learn the “old” ways of photography and then built a collection of vintage to digital prints. Many hobbies center on learning the art of lost craftsmanship. Research your hobby; try to learn every aspect of your hobby. Then once you learn the “ins and outs”, teach someone else. That’s how old crafts are kept alive—they are passed on from one person to another.

Now, if you will excuse me…knit one, purl two. Or was that knit two, purl one? No definitely knit one, purl two…

© Bobbi Rightmyer, October 2005

When Life Hands You a Stalled Train - Make Lemonade

2005-09-08T10:07:00.000-04:00

One Wednesday evening as I was taking one of Christine’s little friends home from church, we got stopped by a train on the track. Obviously, this train was not going anywhere soon because it was at a dead stop. We were two miles down Providence Road, and we only had to go about four more miles, but we were stuck. I decided that it would take forever to back track and try to get around the train—mainly, it was getting dark and I was afraid I would get lost.

So here we were, on a lonely country road waiting on a train. Simple Plan was blaring from my CD player and the girls decided to get out of the car and dance to the song “Jump”—“I just want to jump…JUMP!” The girls were having a ball. They were racing each other to the train track and then racing back. At one point they actually reached out and touched the train.

“I just want to jump…the future is in our hands”. Well, if the future is in our hands, then we’re stuck in the middle of the road out in the boonies, waiting on a train to clear the track—not to mention the fact we were right next to a hog farm and believe me, the smell was pure country. But hey, I can’t complain, I like eating bacon and ham.

On a whim, I got out of the car to dance, which caused the girls to become hysterical with laughter as they pointed and sniggered in my direction. By this time we had already been waiting 20 minutes and the train was still making no signs of movement. Christine and I decided to make a bet on which way the train would go when it finally started—East or West. Christine bet me one of her guitar picks that the train would head east. I bet her a blizzard that it would head west.

As it got darker outside, the girls climbed back into the car and started playing hangman. They were playing it orally instead of writing the letters down; I just don’t know how they do that. It is hard for me to understand a word if it is spelt out loud—I have to see it written down. By now, we were listening to Good Charlotte and Christine was skipping around on the CD to let me listen to different songs. There is finally a cool breeze blowing and I am glad we have good weather to have to wait.

The red blinking lights were hypnotic and I can feel myself falling into a trance. The girls have settled down to work on homework, so I guess they are finally using their time wisely. I am so surprised that we have not had another car come up to the tracks from either side. As I look down at my watch, I realize I may not get home in time to watch the West Wing—bummer, the storyline was just getting good.

After 45 minutes of waiting on the train, we were all staring to get bored and my patience was running thin. Then we saw car lights coming up behind us—I put on my emergency flashers because I didn’t want the car to run up on us. As it turned out, the care was my husband’s truck—he had gotten worried because Christine as I weren’t home yet and he had come looking for us. How sweet is that? I guess it’s my fault for not carrying a cell phone, but my life runs more smoothly with the least technology I am involved with.

By now, our music had changed to a combination of Sugarcult and My Chemical Romance. Christine is consistently amazed that I enjoy some of her music, but I find her taste in music is reminiscent of my past. Most of the bands she listens to were influenced by some of my favorite bands from the 70’s and 80’s. So, even though the lyrics may change, the music still has the same beat that makes me want to sing and dance.

Almost exactly one hour from the time we reached the train track, we got our first positive signs the train was ready to move. We could hear the engine rumble to life down the track as the cars started to vibrate. With a slow jerk of power, the train cars slowly began to move—headed east. I won the bet, so Christine said I could choose which guitar pick I wanted—as long as it wasn’t one of her autographed ones. I decided to let her make the decision. Of course, later that same week I felt guilty, so Christine ended up with a blizzard after all.

After riving less than two miles across the tracks, we dropped the friend off at her house and we were finally headed home. I was getting tired and it was getting late. Christine headed to the shower and I plopped down in my chair to mope the fact I had missed West Wing. I should have known not to worry, Keith had recorded the entire show on the DVR, and so I got the watch the show from the beginning. I told you I had the best husband in the world.

All in all, our little train delay turned into a great bonding experience for me and the girls. They got to act silly and they loved watch me be silly. So the next time life hands you lemons, just smile, do a little dance and think of all the lemonade you can make. Sometimes interruptions in our normal routine are blessings in disguise, so learn to make the most of what life has to offer.

© Bobbi Rightmyer, September 2005

The Dog Days of Summer

2005-08-08T10:05:00.000-04:00

What a major contrast my gardens are this summer compared to the summer of 2004! Last year my gardens were all full of lush greenery and multi-colored flowers—this year my gardens are full of struggling twigs and leaves, very little fruit and no color, except for the growing brown of the lawn.

The dog days of summer have finally hit home and the heat and humidity that Kentucky is famous for is blazing forth in all her glory. Temperatures above 90 degrees, weeks and weeks without rain, and the sticky air that threatens for strangle the life from every living thing. I do not like heat. Just the least bit of heat is enough to raise my internal temperature to the boiling point. I like to be cool, or at least have some type of breeze to keep me comfortable. These days, I fell like someone is trying to smother me with a hot towel; my breath comes in labored gasps.

The problem with these types of days is the fact that even though the weather is unpleasant, gardening still has to go on. Gardens must be weeded, edges trimmed, flowers deadheaded, new transplants started—you name it; there are all types of gardening chores to be done. During very hot summers, gardening is not enjoyable for me because I don’t venture out until the sun goes down, and then I don’t have much time to do anything.

My precious Rabbit Hole garden is still full of green hostas, ferns and astilbe, but the plants aren’t as lush as they were last year. And the poor hydrangea—they are just like me, they wilt in the heat. I have tried to keep them watered, but they are normally a thirsty plant, so this summer is really hard on them. Many of the flowers that I enjoyed last summer have not even started to bloom this season.

One good thing about this dry weather is that I don’t have to mow as often; the grass is so brown and crinkly, I’m not sure it will ever revive. I have loads of English plantain flowers that I have been picking to dry—they will work well in dried arrangements this fall. I’ve also been cutting and drying several different grasses to experiment with this winter. I’m trying to determine which type of grass my birds like better, plus, the sunflowers are slow to start due to the heat, and I may have to use grass in my bird feeders this winter.

I am becoming more and more accustomed to working in the heat, trying to keep up with the mounting outdoor chores. I may not like working in the heat, but I have started to notice that I am able to tolerate the heat a little better this year. I guess my body has been working up its own endurance to help me over the rough spots. I’m also building muscle, which makes it easier to dig a hole or dig up a plant.

One thing I am so proud of this summer is that I have stop drinking so many Cokes every day. I have almost totally switched over to drinking flavored waters with an occasional Coke as a special treat. I have gone from drinking four to five Cokes daily and no water, to drinking nine to ten glasses of flavored water daily. My total fluid intake has improved and I’m starting to notice a slight change in the pressure my joints feel when I’m working outside. I think the water is helping to lubricate my joints better which is cutting down on my pain.

I have also been eating more salads this summer. There are so many different types of salads on the market today—not such the Iceberg lettuce of our past. The Farmer’s Market is full of many types of healthy lettuces along with all the vegetables you need to make a wonderful salad. Romaine, Bibb, Watercress, kale, spinach, and even dandelion leaves—these all make wonderful salad starters. Just add onions, carrots, tomatoes, squash, cucumber—whatever you have growing, or quick on hand—and sprinkle with your favorite dressing and you have the perfect “house” salad. Add that half piece of leftover chicken, or extra strip of bacon, or can of tuna or salmon and you turn the house salad into the main entrée; and it is so healthy for you.

© Bobbi Rightmyer, August 2005

I'd Like to Teach the World to Sing

2005-07-08T10:02:00.000-04:00

Today, my wonderful husband came home with three tickets for the Tom Petty concert at Riverbend this summer. I was thrilled because, after seeing Petty in Rupp Arena two years ago, his performance became my favorite concert to date—replacing Pink Floyd’s concert in 1987. This started me thinking about how my taste in music has changed over the years. As I’ve gotten older, my love of music has grown. I really enjoy classic Rock and Roll—anything from the 70’s and 80’s is right up my alley. But with a teenager in the house again, my musical horizons have been broadened and now music makes my day even more pleasant.

Growing up in the 1970’s, I would listen to whatever was on the radio. I didn’t have a lot of albums, so the majority of the songs I loved were ones I would hear on the radio. My babysitter during this time—Minnie Curtsinger—had a teenage daughter and I can remember occasionally listening to her albums—the Beatles, Simon and Garfunkel, the Who—this would be a rare treat for me.

My mom and dad also loved to listen to music, but their taste in music and my taste in music didn’t always co-exist peacefully. Conway Twitty, Loretta Lynn, Johnny Cash, Neil Diamond, and, of course, Elvis—I used to gripe and grumble about having to listen to their music, but you know, it’s funny how our memories work. I can still remember songs from my parent’s collection. “D-I-V-O-R-C-E”—to this day, whenever I have to write the word divorce, I catch myself singing the letters from the song made famous by Tammy Wynette. “Secret Agent Man”, “Ring of Fire”, “Red Red Wine”—all these songs come back easily whenever I hear them.

I got my first stereo when I was eleven and the few records I had were played until I was afraid they would warp. The Eagles, John Denver, Dan Fogelberg, and America were just a few of the artists I used to spin. Of course, I got caught up in the 8-track craze in the late 70’s. Daddy had an 8-track player in his truck and I had a portable player—square, yellow with a handle to carry it and change the tracks with. 8-tracks bit the dust the same way Beta tapes did when VHS tapes were born. Progress. I don’t still have any of my old 8-tracks, but I do still have my old albums. Albums are vintage and they will never go out of style.

It was also during the late 70’s that I started listening to Led Zeppelin, Kiss, Heart, and yes, I’m ashamed to admit it, but I owned a Bay City Rollers Album. Guilty pleasures—everyone has them. During the early 80’s I discovered Genesis, Pink Floyd, Def Leppard and Meatloaf, but my heart belonged to Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. Tom Petty may not be much to look at, but man… he can really sing.
By the late 80’s, music was just in the early stages of switching from cassette tapes to compact discs—CDs have really changed the music industry. I couldn’t afford one of the new CD players, so I continued with cassette tapes up into the 90’s. Now, music is everywhere—even on the Internet. Downloading music and burning CDs is a favorite pastime for many people.

When I met my husband in the late 1980’s, I started to listen to his music and was surprised to find that I have really grown to love some of the bands he likes to listen to. Jethro Tull, Steely Dan, the Talking Heads—long car trips were spent listening to new and interesting music. It was like felling in love with music all over again. The first time I heard a Moody Blues’ song, I was enraptured. This was great. I listened to Toto, Journey, Robert Palmer, Peter Gabriel, Yes, Rush. . .the list goes on and on. These were bands that I had never even given a chance. I usually stuck with the Top 40—Keith introduced me to the Bottom 100, bands with faithful fan bases and a general love of new and different music.

Over the years, we have merged our musical interests into a blend of Classic Rock and Roll with a dash of Hip-Hop, Rap and Heavy Metal. No Country—believe me, I know plenty of Country songs because I cut my teeth on them, but I just need something a little more upbeat. Give me a great song that I can sing and dance to, keep a beat with and just brighten my day over a sad, sappy,” my husband just left me” kind of song. To me, Country is too depressing. I have enough trouble with depression as it is. I want to be able to drive my car and sing at the top of my lungs. As a stress reliever—it works almost every time.

I listen to music in my office daily—it helps me think and keeps my mood upbeat. I listen to music when I’m working out in my gardens, sometimes I think even my plants like to listen to the music. I definitely listen to music when I’m writing. I was overjoyed recently when Christine taught me how to “dump” my CD collection into my computer and listen to whatever I want to, whenever I want to. We can even burn our own mood CDs with just the right type of music we want to listen to.

I’ve already gone through two teenagers with one more to go, and all their tastes in music have been different. Amber started out with Rap, but I think she has now gone down the Country pathway. Marie has been Country through and through most of her life. Occasionally, we would all find a band we enjoyed listening to together. Britney Spears, Beck, Korn, Eminem—I’ve listened to a fair share of their music. I guess Eminem is about the only one from that period of time that I still listen to.
Now that Christine is close to being a teenager, her interest in music has just exploded, and I’m happy to say that she is going to be a “rocker” like me. I could never get Amber and Marie interested in my music, mainly because I’m permanently stuck in the 80’s. But Christine’s music is similar to classic rock, only the band names are much stranger now. Sugarcult, Simple Plan, My Chemical Romance, and what is it with the color bands? Green Day, Yellow Card, Maroon Five…these seem like they should be colors for M&Ms, not the latest rock bands.

No matter what type of music I may be listening to in ten years, Tom Petty will always be at the top of that list. Right along with Heart, Genesis, and Pink Floyd. Who knows? Maybe by the time I’m 80, I’ll be ready to listen to those sad Country songs. No matter what type of music you like to listen to, just do it. Turn on the radio, crank up the CD player, or plug into an I-pod, and just listen to the wonderful diverse world of music.

© Bobbi Rightmyer, July 2005

Spring Fever

2005-04-08T09:53:00.000-04:00

The cold dark days of winter are finally receding with time inching forth and the days getting longer. Cold winter days make my nesting instincts kick into high gear. There is just something warm and fuzzy about being wrapped up in the warmth of your home with all the things you need to keep you comfortable. Just like animals getting ready for the winter, I have this urge stock up on all the creature comforts that make life tolerable.

For me, the first thing I need is something to write with and something to write in. Although most of my writing is done on the laptop, I still have to have a journal to jot down notes, ideas and feelings. I am partial to the half size notebooks with the cloth covering over the spiral edges. I probably have hundreds of these that I have filled with all my thoughts; occasionally I will re-read a journal to pick out patterns in my life. Of course, I also like nice pretty journals and I have many of them that I use for special projects. I have one that is especially for song lyrics, I have one for my poems and another for quotations. I also like to pick out special journals to take with me on trips. I usually have at least three or four working journals going at one time—feelings and thoughts, gardening and crafts, and story ideas. I keep a journal in my car in case I get caught in traffic, I keep one on my desk at home in case ideas come to me in the middle of the day and I keep one near my bed for dreams and other mystical thoughts.

After I have something to write on, then I need something to write with. I love to write with blue ink; I think that is because I have to write in black at work all the time. All the ink pens I use at home are blue, Pilot Easy Touch; these write smoothly and don’t bleed ink onto the paper or clog up the tip. My handwriting is large and I hate it when the ink pen leaves a big glob of ink right in the middle of a word. I also have some special pens that I use when the mood hits me. One of my favorites is a wooden pen that is carved like a fox head; it is refillable and I like to use it when I’m in a good mood. I will usually find a new pen to take on a special trip, like the lighted pens you see at the checkout stand in Wal-Mart—Winnie the Pooh, Peter Pan, Cinderella. Special pens are good for perking up my mood, but when it comes down to serious writing, I’ll choose my Easy Touch every time.

The next thing you need to be a good nester is snacks—all the favorite foods of each family member. For me, it has to be Twisters because I’m a salty-carbohydrate kind of girl, but Keith likes his Runts from the Kountry Kupboard, and Christine’s weakness is Doritos. These are occasional snacks for us, but I get that warm fuzzy feeling when we are stocked up with all our favorites. It’s good to have nice healthy food to sustain you, but a special treat every now and then is okay too.

Spring is finally in the air. I realize we still have some cold days to look forward to, but the signs of spring are everywhere. Gardening plans are already stewing in my head and I can’t wait to finally be able to get outside and dig in the dirt. On my daily walk through my gardens recently, I was really tempted to start cleaning out flower beds and tidying everything up, but I stopped myself. Right now the birds are using flower heads and shrubbery to live. I see so many Robins, Cardinals, Woodpeckers and Finches still finding seeds to eat and a place for protection. Normally I don’t start trimming up the flowerbeds until about St. Patrick’s’ Day—that is when my Granddaddy Sallee would plant his potatoes and prepare the lettuce beds. This is about the same time my Granny Sallee would plant her sweet peas and start raking out her flowerbeds, especially her peonies.

I also have daffodils and tulips coming up and several trees starting to bud-out. I am always glad to see the first flower in spring, but I would rather delay my joy instead of having everything blooming and then get a big frost. With Kentucky weather, one day we may have 60 degree temperatures, the next day it may never reach 30 degrees.

So, as the gardening and seed catalogs start to accumulate in the mail, I will spend the next few months deciding on what new plants I will try this year. As soon as the soil is workable, I’ll be out getting the veggie garden ready for lettuce and other salad greens plus peas and a few potatoes. Even though I have spring fever, I will still have to wait on Mother Nature to tell me when spring has finally arrived. Until then, I’ll keep busy reading and learning and dreaming of my future gardens.

© Bobbi Rightmyer, April 2005

Spring Fever

2005-04-05T09:53:00.000-04:00

It's Not Christmas Without the Nativity

2004-12-08T11:33:00.000-05:00

It is hard to believe the Christmas season is upon us again. Christmas merchandise crowds the aisles of Wal-Mart and festive commercials adorn the media airwaves, but for me, Christmas arrives thanksgiving evening after the last leftovers are eaten and we settle in to set up our family Nativity. Every year as we unwrap our Nativity, I am overwhelmed with memories of Christmas’ past; visions of my childhood, vision of my adulthood, and visions of the many changes that have occurred in my life.

I bought the beginnings of my Nativity just before Christmas in 1980. I had graduated high school the previous May, and I began working in the local Hallmark store. Anne’s Hallmark was a wonderful place to work and I think it is there that I became an obsessive collector. It was really hard to work in such a wonderful place and not fall in love with collectables. I have written of my obsessive collection of Hallmark Christmas ornaments, so this story is about my Nativity…probably my most precious heirloom.

When I began working at Anne’s, I immediately fell in love with Enesco Imports porcelain figurines, which were modeled after Biblical quotes. Precious Moments, and I have trouble calling them anything else, are whimsical children in all arrays of poses. I began to buy a figurine every few weeks and my collection grew to almost 30 in the two years I worked at Anne’s.
If any of you are avid collectors, you’ll know what I mean when I say I began to obsess over the yearly catalog, which would contain a picture of the newest editions to the Precious Moments. I would drool over the catalog and start planning who would join my collection. In the beginning, I bought pieces because I liked them; later I would buy pieces that reminded me of sentimental moments. So, when I first saw the Precious Moments’ Nativity, I couldn’t help but fall in love.

First produced in 1979, Anne’s would not get the nine-piece set until the Christmas of 1980. As soon as I saw the tiny baby Jesus with Mary, Joseph and the little lambs, I placed an order for a set. I saved for three months to have the money to afford my Nativity. By Christmas Eve, I was able to retrieve my Nativity from Anne’s lay-away, and the nine pieces were lovingly arranged on the top of our pie safe. Mary sits on a wooden box, head bowed and one hand reaching out to the baby Jesus. Joseph is standing by her side, his tattered robe covered in patches. The baby Jesus is asleep in the manager and his blanket is covered with the same quilted patches found on his father’s robe. There are four little lambs; three are white and one is black. The black one and one white one are lying down and the other two are standing. There are two shepherds, one with a lamb and one without. I also added in fresh cedar boughs I had cut from the farm, and one pillar candle to serve as the star. The colors of each piece are muted pastels and they are beautiful when reflected in candlelight.

After that first Christmas, I began to added regularly to my Nativity. The next year I bought a little donkey with quilted patches on each flank. He is my favorite of the animal pieces, so cute and frumpy. My parents got me the cow that year for Christmas, and with the exception of one other, are the only two pieces that I have not bought with my own money. The cow has his head turned and there is a tiny bluebird on his back. The Christmas of 1981 was the year of the “controversial” piece to the Nativity. The piece was to be the Star of Bethlehem, but it looked too modern to go with the rest of the pieces. Several family members and I had many discussions over this particular figure. It is an angel holding a flashlight over her head. We thought the flashlight was not the right item for the symbol of the Star, but we I hated to not have a piece to the set. I didn’t until the next Christmas that I needed to add it to my collection, and now I’m glad I did.

In 1982, Amber was celebrating her first Christmas, and I added two new pieces to the Nativity; the resting camel with a patchwork hump and the little goat with his beard and horns. This was also the year that a family member received the most spectacular piece to the Nativity collection, “They followed the Star”. This piece was actually three separate pieces, the three wise men riding camels. The camels, each standing on long, tall legs, tapered down in size, as did their riders. The smallest camel carried a very young wise man that, in turn, was carrying a teddy bear. The middle one was carrying a larger shepherd who was holding a small gold star attached to a stick, which he dangled over his camel like the carrot on a stick. The largest one camel carried the largest shepherd, who had his hands folded in prayer. I was so jealous! I really wanted wise men to complete my Nativity, but I could not afford the three large camels with their wonderful wise men. I also could not afford the three smaller wise men that were also produced that year. These wise men were not riding camels and were about the same size of the shepherds.

The next few years, I didn’t add to the Nativity because I didn’t have the money to spend. But this didn’t damper my love for my collection and I began to display them in a glassed cabinet where I could see them every day. They stayed in this cabinet until my divorce in 1986, when I boxed them away with care and labeled them “Fragile—Do Not Drop!” The next year, with a full-time job and two small children, I used my Christmas money to buy “Tubby” the pig to add to my Nativity. Tubby is so round and squat with his name quilted onto a heart on one side and a brown chicken on his back. Tubby would be the last piece I would buy for the next 10 years.

I quickly learned that children and Precious Moments do not mix. My first causality was my little black lamb, and I didn’t even have children of my own yet. My niece was so enthralled with my Nativity, that in her excitement, she dropped the black lamb and broke his head off. I remember crying so hard, but this was before I had children of my own, and I didn’t realize I would have many more disappointments. I managed to glue his head back on, and now, every year as I unwrap him, I am reminded of the good times I spent with my niece. All three of my own children have broken pieces of my Nativity. Actually, Amber and Marie each broke the same piece at two different times. The both managed to break the halo off the controversial Star of Bethlehem. Now it is firmly attached with super glue. When she was five, Christine broke the blue bird off the cow’s back, and that blue bird has never been found.

Christmas is here again, and gazing at the Nativity brings back the joys and memories of Christmases past. About five years ago, I finally completed my collection when I was able to buy the wonderful wise men riding the camels. For the past 20 years or so, the Nativity has also shared the limelight with Santa’s cookies and milk on Christmas Eve, but as the girls get older, this tradition is fading. Everyone has his or her own memories and traditions related to the holiday season, but to me, it is not Christmas without the Nativity.

© Bobbi Rightmyer, December 2004

See Ya in the Funny Papers

2004-05-06T11:37:00.000-04:00

In Loving Memory of
Ella Belle Camden Devine
October 21, 1914 to April 4, 1986

I remember going to church with my Granny Devine almost every Sunday when I was a little girl. She had her special row and pew where she always sat – four rows back from the front, piano side. It was always taken for granted that this was where Granny would sit.

I also remember her using the hymnal as a back support during the sermon. Her back was swayed from many years of hard work, but I can vividly remember her back bending in the opposite direction as she slid the hard book behind the small of her back. How did that little book help her back? At the tender age of 8, I had no doubt that this little ritual helped
Granny’s back pain. She told me it helped and that was all I needed to know.

Blind faith – I had that with my Granny when I was little. I thought she was the greatest woman on earth. She could cook a feast for 12 in her tiny kitchen, whip up new curtains on her sewing machine, and leap small buildings in a single bound. There was nothing that Granny couldn’t do in my eyes. If I hadn’t seen her for a few days, Granny would always say, “I haven’t seen ya in a month of Sundays!” Reading the Sunday comic strips was always a favorite ritual between us, and almost every time I would leave her home, I could count on her saying, “I’ll see ya in the funny papers.”

She made me a leather coat when I was eight or nine. It was three-quarter length, hanging almost to my ankles, and made of the softest leather I had ever felt. I have no idea where the leather came from, but I do know that Granny took it to Cricketeer to sew because the machines were more heavy duty. She also made my sister a coat, so me and Amy matched.

I remember the year that Mom and Dad got us three kid’s new bedroom furniture for Christmas. We all got twin beds with a nightstand and dresser. Actually, Amy and I shared a dresser, but we also shared a room at that time, so I guess it didn’t matter. I was just glad that I didn’t have share a bed with my little sister anymore. Although she is three years younger than me, she could lick like a mule.

That Christmas Eve, after finishing up rituals at Granny’s house, we headed home to wait on Santa. I should have known something special was going to happen because Granny came home with us. That was something she never did on Christmas Eve, but this year she did, and we were thrilled. What we kids didn’t know was that while we were cooking, eating, and unwrapping presents at Granny’s house, our new bedroom furniture was being delivered, unloaded and assembled in our rooms. When we got home that night, we were so surprised!

My bed was a four-poster twin with tall slender posts. Of course, Amy and Brent’s bed were just like mine. But what was different were the new bedclothes and curtains. Amy and I had a pink flowery pattern with ruffles at the bottom of the bed spread and more ruffles around the pillow shams. The curtains were simple and straight, and they were the same pink flowery pattern. Brent’s bedclothes were some type of colonial theme – soldiers, trucks, I’m not sure I really remember mainly because I never went into my brother’s room.

I learned later in life that Santa didn’t bring the wonderful bedclothes for our new beds. Granny had made each and every one, with a little help from my Aunt Ginny Ann. This in itself is amazing when I think back on it, because this was not the only thing Granny had made for us that year.
We each had new jammies, lovingly hand sewn, with coordinating robes, and crocheted house slippers to match. When did Granny have time to do all this? She must have spent the biggest part of her “down time” from Cricketeer laboriously working over her sewing machine to make wonderful surprises for her grandkids.

Granny was always doing a different kind of craft, or sewing another new pattern. I guess this is where I developed my love for crafts. Granny taught me how to crochet when I was ten; I am sure this was something she learned to regret. “No, you’re not holding the hook right. Hold it this way. Now you’ve got the yarn too lose. Don’t pull so hard.”

Crocheting has never been a very strong area of mine, but I have managed to make several family members their own Afghans throughout the years. Whether these Afghans have ever seen the light of day, I’m not sure, but they were a labor of love learned from my wonderful grandmother.

She also taught me how to do embroidery and needlework. I learned this more quickly and actually had fun during the learning process. I think Granny was relieved when I took to needlework, because she steered me away from crocheting after that. Needlework is a hobby that I still enjoy and most of my immediate family has one of my original works.

There is probably not a day that goes by when I don’t think about my Granny Devine. She was such an amazing woman and she is missed by more than just her family. My oldest daughters were only two and three years old when Granny died, and they don’t have many memories of her except for photographs and my remembrances. The only regret I have is that Granny never got to meet my youngest daughter or my wonderful husband. I’m sure they would have loved her just as much as I did and still do.

Miss you Granny – see you in the funny papers.

© Bobbi Rightmyer, May 2004

The Birds Are Back in Town

2004-03-02T10:00:00.000-05:00

As we near the end of winter and the beginning of spring, the parade of birds in my backyard have multiplied ten-fold. Actually, most birds never left—many of them make the wildlife of our backyard their permanent homes—but the migratory birds are beginning to make the first re-appearance. This year I am hoping to attract some bluebirds and some purple martins. Mosquitoes are the favored diet of the purple martin.

Mourning doves—as a group—are my favorite songbirds. Lucky for me, the mourning doves are year ‘round inhabitants to our area. During the spring they nest and raise their young in the pine trees that line our property. They pick a nice firm pine bough, throw a few pine needles on it and proceed to set up house. We have lost plenty of dove eggs because the wind really whips through our pine trees. Fortunately, the doves appear to have more than one brood each season. When I woke up this morning, there were at least 15 pairs of doves scratching for food in the bird feeding station. Their gray feathers were all sleeked back, and they all moved with a little hop and skip. Whenever one of the birds “spooks” at a noise, they all lift off in a sea of blue feathers; that sleek gray color turns into a sea of blue when the birds are in flight. Later the same day I checked the bird feeding station again, and all those doves were still there—roosting on the ground!

During the summer and fall, the doves patrol the garden edges, as well as flower bed borders. They prefer foraging the perimeter of a feeding area instead of plowing right to the middle. It is also during the summer that doves like to roost on the overhead power lines. It is not uncommon to come home from work late and find 40 to 50 birds quietly lining the power lines. Listening to the soft “coo” of the doves is a wonderful way to lower your blood pressure after a hard day’s work.

If mourning doves are my favorite musical bird, then the Cardinal is the most beautiful. Male or female, there is something about those red feathers that just makes you want to smile, especially during the winter, when the trees are bare. Cardinals are the first birds out in the morning and among the last ones seen at night. The male Cardinal always watches out for the female—who said chivalry is dead? Cardinals mate for life and you can always tell which two belong together. The female is able to forage for seeds while her mate is standing guard. This year I have been able to count eight pair of Cardinals in my backyard at one time.

Chick-a-dees, finches and wrens love thistles seeds and you can usually find them waving above the garden as they cling to a thistle flower or seed head. I purposely don’t clean up my gardens in fall and winter because they are so beneficial for the wildlife. I keep a special thistle feeder in the bird feeding station just for these birds. It is really fun to watch a finch hang upside down from a feeder to eat thistle seeds.

Of course, I have to mention my resident Blue Jay—he is so loud, he is hard to forget. Late afternoons are when Mr. Blue Jay makes his appearance—he must not be a morning person. He is great at running all other birds away from the feeding station. He usually starts on the Redbud tree in the side yard. Chirp, chirp, chirp! His cry is loud enough to wake the cats inside my house. After he has scared the other birds off, he heads to the feast. I have learned over the years that the Blue Jays prefer cracked corn and sunflower seeds, but he has to test every feeder, just in case someone changed the menu. The Blue Jay really is a beautiful bird, but I just can’t get past his rude behavior.

There is a red-tailed hawk that patrols the farm next to our home. He is a beautiful thing when he is soaring through the air! He makes his home in the fencerow bordering the property line; daily I see him sweep down through the bare tree branches. With the farmland next door to us and the brush piles I’ve created in the backyard, he has his choice of all types of food. I try not to think about the fact he may be eating the rabbits that burrow in our yard. Mice—he can eat all the mice and rats he can find. Talk about a natural exterminator.

About three weeks ago, I came home from work and as I pulled into the driveway, there was a young red-tailed hawk sitting on the ivy-covered utility pole anchor cable in my front flowerbed. I go so excited I stopped the car half in the road and half in our driveway. The care must have startled him, because he took flight and I watched until he was just a little speck on the horizon. Baby hawks—I love it! More hawks means less mice and voles.

This winter I have been reading up on birds in our area, trying to identify some of the other feather friends who fly in to visit, and I’ve been recording observations of the bird antics in my backyard. Birds are sometimes hard to photograph, but I have managed to get many shots from the windows. A zoom lens helps, but I usually end up with pictures of blurred birds or bare tree branches. I will sometimes only get three or four good pictures out of an entire roll of film. Keith is much better than me at photography; his photos are accompanying this article.

So, grab the kids, head outside and enjoy the last fleeting days of winter. Spring will be here soon enough, with Summer not far behind. Take these last few days to enjoy the cold crispness of the winter air. And while you’re bundled up, go watch the birds, take a few pictures, and thank God for the beautiful day.

© Bobbi Rightmyer, March 2004

My Little Bookworm

2003-01-08T09:21:00.000-05:00

MY LITTLE BOOKWORM
By Bobbi Rightmyer
January 2003

When I was in the third grade, I was bit by the reading bug. I used to make countless trips to the school library, and even helped as a library aide just to be closer to the books. I had a hug appetite for reading, and I rarely went anywhere without a book in hand. A Wrinkle in time, The Narnia Chronicles, The Wizard of Oz, and Little Women, these were the staples of my reading itinerary as a child. As I’ve grown, my reading tastes have grown with me: from romance novels to horror to science fiction to historical fiction, each and every book has 100 pages to hook me before I give up on it. If I’m not hooked on the plot line after 100 pages, then I’m probably never going to enjoy the book.
When Amber and Marie were younger, I used to dream they would have my hunger for reading. I would read them bedtime stories, buy them books as gifts, and let them see me reading for fun. I’ve learned the hard way that if a child is not interested in something, the worst thing a parent can do is force the issue. The more I tried to get the girls to read for fun, the more they turned away from books completely. It was still “ok” for me to read to them, but they wanted nothing to do with reading themselves. As a single parent this really bothered me, because I knew their father was definitely not a reader. I didn’t want my girls to miss out on all the wonderful worlds books can open for a person.
When Christine was born, I again had high hopes that she would be a reader; after all, she had two parents who enjoyed reading instead of just one. So I began reading to her just like I did the older girls. Christine loved books and would carry one with her everywhere. She would sit engrossed in the story whenever I would read to her, and I could see her brain trying to picture the words in her mind. But when Christine started school, she had lots of trouble learning to read.
I couldn’t understand what the problem was; Amber and Marie learned to read without a problem. What was wrong with my last little girl? So, we worked with her at home, and with her teacher at school, but Christine was still having trouble sounding out words. Instead, she would memorize the words. When she would come to a word she didn’t know, you could see her mentally going through the file cabinet in her brain looking for the word. This continued all through kindergarten, first and second grades. Even though she was an excellent student, our whole family struggled with her “reading problem”.
The, when Christine entered third grade, something magical happened. For some unknown reason, at the beginning of third grade, Christine clicked with reading. Ill never forget the day she came racing home from the bus stop and yelled, “Mom, I read my library book all by myself!” That was it, from that point on, my bubbly, bouncy last child began her love affair with books.
Today, Christine is in the fifth grade and her appetite for books grows each day. Her room is full of books, from books she owns to books from the school library AND books from the public library. We make one, sometimes two trips to the Mercer County Public Library every week so she can check out enough books to get her through for several days. She has her own library bag that she and her best friends, Brooke and Levi Lewis, made one afternoon and she keeps her library card hooked to her bag for safe keeping; she keeps my card hooked there, too. Because of our trips to the library, Brooke and Levi have also become bookworms and this really excites me. I love to see kids reading.
I notice Christine’s taste in books changing every day. She started out just reading small chapter books, but now she has branched out to certain topics or authors. For example, she read a book by Beverly Cleary over this past summer, and since then she has been trying to read all the books by Ms. Cleary. She recently read a book about a cat, which she fell in love with, and then she found out there were three more books about the same cat. Of course, she had to find all three and read them. Christine has always read the comic strips her MaMaw saves for her every Sunday, so right now she is into comics. Garfield, Calvin and Hobbs, The Peanuts Gang and Pogo, these are just a few of the comic collections that she searches for in libraries and bookstores.
One of Christine’s newest interests is a series of books by a new author writing under the pen name, Lemony Snicket. His books, A Series of Unfortunate Events, have been climbing their way up the bestsellers’ lists for months. There is much controversy about these books because the main characters are three orphans who are moved around to different homes in every book. There is a mean villain out to steal the children’s inheritance, and because of him, nothing good ever happens to the children. Many objectors to the books say they are bad because nothing good happens, but I see the books in a different light. I see three children who persevere and never give up, even when things are going very bad for them, like in The Bad Beginning, the very first book of the series I also see an author who is trying to introduce vocabulary words to a new group of eager readers. Several times in each book the author will use an unusual word, but then he goes on to explain what the word means. I can see Christine’s vocabulary improving just from the mini lessons in these books.
Today, my youngest daughter is never anywhere without a book. She reads on the bus every morning and every afternoon; she even reads as she’s walking home from the bus top. She reads in the car, and if it happens to be dark, she has her own book light just so she can continue to read. She even reads at school before the morning bell rings, in between classes, and after she has finished her work. I now have a child who spends more time reading than she does watching television and that makes me very happy.
Now, if you'll excuse me, Christine is anxious to get to the library before they close.

© Bobbi Rightmyer, January 2003

Santa Claus' Last Stand

2002-12-02T11:31:00.001-05:00

I am sure every family has unique ways of celebrating the Christmas season. Going to the holiday parade, hanging of the greens, or just eating a delicious meal together, every family has their own exclusive way to celebrate Christmas with their immediate family. My family is just like everyone else, and we have many Christmas rituals that have become traditions and it does not seem like Christmas without them.

I know it may seem like we are rushing the season, but we have always put our Christmas tree up on Thanksgiving Day. We look forward to setting up the tree and decorating with all the lights and ornaments. Last year my husband added a special feature to our tree—a revolving tree stand. Now, not only do we have many colorful lights and hundreds of wonderful ornaments, but the tree slowly turns so every side is visible. The first time I saw the tree all lit up, I wasn’t sure if I was excited or just nauseous with motion sickness, but after a few minutes, it began to grow on me. One major advantage to the revolving tree is more of my precious ornaments can be seen.

Our Christmas traditions have grown into the non-stop, hurry-hurry, rush-rush of one huge meal after another and then the outrageous amount of gifts there are to open. It seems we have become so trained to try and make our holiday season as picture perfect as possible that we have forgotten to slow down and just enjoy the season.

My children have always been my motivation when it came to the holiday seasons. I’m guilty of trying to make my children’s Christmas’ as perfect as possible. I always had to make sure I had just the right gift and that I had spent equal amounts of money on each child, which can be really hard if there, is a big age difference in your children. Now that I have two grown daughters and a ten-year-old, my enthusiasm to have the “perfect Christmas” is starting to fade. I am beginning to have a greater appreciation for a more simple type of celebration. Is it because I’m getting older, or is it because my children are getting older?

This Christmas will revolve around that inevitable question…”Momma is Santa Claus real?” I don’t think there is a parent out there who has not felt that pang of sadness when their children stop believing in Santa. Although my brain tells me that Christine has stopped believing in Santa, my heart has a hard time accepting. I hate to see this tiny bit of childhood fantasy come to an end. Christmas is truly for children but I am going to miss playing “Santa” every year. ZI am going to miss making sure there are just enough crumbs left on Santa’s plate so the girls think he got full. Or, meticulously wrapping each and every gift from Santa, all in the same type of paper with the same types of bows. Or, putting on bright red lipstick and kissing each girl on the cheek every Christmas Eve, just so they will think Santa cam in to kiss them.

This year, it will be just me, my hubby and Christine to open gifts on Christmas morning. I am not going to make an issue of Santa, I’ll just do like I did with the big girls, and I’ll ignore it. I never had the Santa “talk” with Amber or Marie, and I probably won’t with Christine. They have all three asked me, at one time or another, if “I” believed in Santa and my answer was always “YES”. I firmly believe that when a child wants to stop believing, he or she will, but they should not be forced to give up the fantasy before they are ready. So, until Christine is ready to truly stop believing, we will still open gifts on Christmas morning. In all honesty, my husband can’t wait until Christine decides she wants to open up ALL her gifts on Christmas Eve, just like her sisters. Then we can stop getting up at the crack of dawn on Christmas morning. Now that is one tradition I won’t miss!

© Bobbi Rightmyer, December 2002

The Lessons of a Child

2002-06-08T09:58:00.000-04:00

All our lives we have been taught to learn from the examples set forth by my elders. We learn by reaping the benefits of life by following the rules imposed on us by our parents. We learn by fostering information and lessons from our school teachers. We learn from the patience and unconditional love shown us by our grandparents. We also learn by following examples of faith observed by our religious leaders. But how many times do we learn from someone younger, like a child? My life recently entered a new phase of education, and the teacher. . ? My nine-year-old daughter, Christine.

Raising children has been the hardest job I have ever tried to tackle. Being responsible for molding and shaping the life of another human being is a taunting task, and there have been many, many times when I have felt like a failure. There have also been many other times when I have been in awe of the lessons my children have learned. As a parent, I want what every other parent wants, for my children to be happy, healthy, and to have all the advantages life has to offer. As my oldest two daughters reach adulthood, I look back and realize I didn’t do such a bad job after all.

The oldest, Amber, choosing not to pursue a college career, is a happy, hardworking member of our society. She is following her own dreams, even though they were not my dreams for her. She is her own woman and she has learned to support herself by following the examples of the adults in her life. My middle daughter, Marie, is preparing to graduate high school, and as an honor student, again my hopes are high that she will continue her education. But like her older sister, Marie is her own woman and she will not be pushed into a preordained mold. At this writing, she is still undecided about her plans for the future, but I rest assured knowing she has the skills and intelligence to following her own plan for the future.

As for my youngest daughter, Christine has had a much more relaxed upbringing in comparison to her sisters. When Amber was born she brought with her all my insecurities of being a first time parent. Everything had to be Dr. Spock perfect, so I placed undo pressure on her to be perfect. When Marie was born, I threw Dr. Spock out the window because I was doing good just to keep two children clean and feed. By the time Christine arrived, I had already lived through every possible scenario of childhood. I learned it doesn’t matter how early my child walked or talked, or what kind of clothes they wore, or if their face and hands were clean 100 percent of the time. By the time children reach adulthood, none of their childhood accomplishments matter. When I see Christine doing something that is against the norm, I have learned to ask myself, “Will it matter in ten years?” If the answer is no, then I don’t force my opinion on her. Like her sisters, she is growing into her own person.

As for me, Christine has taught me that it is possible to teach an old dog new tricks. I have always considered myself a religious person, even though my church attendance has been sporadic throughout the years. My oldest daughters have adopted my relaxed ideas on religion, but not Christine. She has embraced religion with a passion I haven’t seen since my Granny Devine was alive. Christine is active in every aspect of church life from choir to GA’s (Girls in Action) to the recent Easter pageant. She was so excited about her role in the pageant and her enthusiasm spread to her father and myself.

The Sunday morning Christine accepted Jesus as her personal savior, my heart swelled with pride. Her subsequent baptism on Easter Sunday was a testament of her faith and belief, but it was also an awakening for me. Through her simple act of believing in Christ, I realized I had been taking my faith for granted. Although Christine has a long way to go before she reaches adulthood, I now know this road will be paved, not only with her experiences, but also with the lessons we teach each other.

And as Christine so plainly stated, her name contains the greatest name of all. . .Christ.

© Bobbi Rightmyer, June 2002