Let's Keep Rolling

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

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

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

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

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

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

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