April 14, 2008
I love coffee. In fact I am a coffee snob. I think it all started with my Daddy. He would have that first cup of coffee every morning, a level spoon or two of sugar and then he would stir. And stir….and stir..the spoon clink clink clinking on the sides of the coffee cup as he sat there thinking or trying to wake up. I never did know which it was. When the clinking and the thinking would stop then came the big slurp. I don’t recall that I ever heard Daddy drink a cup of coffee without hearing that big slurp.
My Papaw Guy was a coffee drinker too. He had a big old white mug with a sipping saucer. No one else drank from that mug. It was his and his alone. Papaw would pour his coffee into that saucer and then drink it down with a big ole slurp. When I would ask why he drank from the saucer, he told me it helped cool the hot coffee. That mug and sipping saucer is something I have looked for in antique shops for years.
On my last trip to Jackson, I went in search of books to read at a Barnes and Nobles and nothing goes better with a good book than a cup of coffee. There is always a coffee bar in bookstores. Even Square Books in Oxford has a gourmet coffee bar upstairs. Allison, my partner in the book and coffee hunt, and I “bellied up to the bar” and placed our orders. We both ordered a tall caramel macchiato with an extra pump of vanilla and steamed milk. The young woman taking our order balked at the requested and curtly informed us that we could not have it that way. I was stunned. First, she was rude, secondly, we can order our coffee any way we like it. Most of the things on the menu board are just “guidelines” as far as I’m concerned.
We were insistent about what we wanted and she was just as insistent that we could not. I was starting to get really jittery because I had not had my morning cup of coffee and I also used to run a coffee bar so I do know exactly what is involved in making a cup of specialty coffee. My voice was beginning to raise an octave or two when the coffee bar manager stepped over and asked what was going on. Allison and I explained that we wanted to start out with the recipe for the Caramel Macchiato with steamed milk and we wanted to add an extra pump of vanilla to it. The cashier piped up saying it would change the taste of the Macchiato.(Visualize a little head and shoulder action going on here) Ya THINK? I finally looked at the young lady and I told her that I was a barista and I had not had my morning cup of coffee yet so I was getting very irritated at being told that we could order that cup of coffee exactly the way we wanted. The manager agreed and proceeded to make our coffees which, by the way, turned out very very good.
Being the ever adventurous sort that I am, I finally tried one of the Java Chillers that Sonic is now offering. Since I like caramel, that is the flavor I go for. I like the Java Chiller which is a shot of espresso with some soft serve ice cream and whipped cream drizzled with caramel. That is pretty yummy. It’s not hot, it’s not cold, but it does give a nice little wake up jolt. The hot lattes are good also. The Sonic in Bruce is pretty good at that one. The early morning crew seems to know best how to prepare them though.
On one of our warmer days last week I ordered an iced latte and that was a severe shock to my system. I had the assumption that it was going to be a nice concoction of coffee and flavoring blended with ice. Surprise! The carhop brought me the cup of iced coffee and it looked so inviting topped with the whipped cream and caramel drizzle. Then I took that first sip. Oh I am so sorry to say that whoever made that cup of coffee did not hit the mark. They were not even in the same universe. Words cannot describe what it tasted like but if you saw the Garfield cartoon in the paper on Saturday, that would be a proper description. Thick and bitter coffee doesn’t wake me up. It seemed like the more I sipped the worse it became. Did you know that bitter coffee can make you pucker? I looked like I had been through a bad batch of Botox. It was pretty toxic. Being the coffee snob that I am, I may just ask them if they would mind if I showed them how to make a proper latte. Either that or I’ll just plan to stop at McDonald’s. Old Ronald knows how to make a great iced coffee.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Did you have a Glorious Easter? 3/24/08 MH article
Week of March 24, 2008
Did you have a Glorious Easter Celebration? We did! Little did I know when I awoke on Sunday morning just how special a day it would turn out to be. Holy Week is always a very busy week for me. For the last few years I have always been able to take the week off to prepare for the many services and to save my voice for all the singing and Gregorian chant that is involved.
Thursday evening, my throat was still a little tight from the cough and sinus drainage I had been living with for a couple of weeks but I ‘limped’ through the Pange Lingua and the incense that night. Good Friday services don’t traditionally have a lot of music. It is, after all, the most solemn of nights. I spent Saturday at home practicing the hymns and the Easter Sequence so I would be ready for Sunday.
Easter is the perfect time for baptisms and confirmations and we had both. A whole family was welcomed into the church, just as it happened in the early days of the Christian Church. Mom and Dad were confirmed and their precious little baby girl was baptized. The music on Easter morning is very festive. We sing Alleluia and the Gloria for the first time since the beginning of Lent. Being a soprano, I tend to get on up into the rafters, which is one of the reasons I love the Easter hymns. Ben and Jettie began our service with some beautiful music. The rest of the service consisted of traditional hymns.
Traditional until communion that is. I had chosen an instrumental piece on a new CD I had purchased and loaded it into the stereo. The CD cover stated that it was Classic Traditional Christian Hymns. Now what could go wrong with that? The hymn I chose was Christ the Lord is Risen Today. That’s pretty traditional right? The music began playing and all seemed serene until the guitar riff. HUH? I was already seated when it happened. Ben turned and looked at me with shock in his eyes. Another riff! The tempo picked up and the ‘traditional classic’ instrumental hymn turned into a classic rock version of the hymn. We all had that deer in the head lights look. My daughter leaned over and whispered in my ear, ‘Gee mom, I’ve missed church for a couple of months and ya’ll go and changed on me.’ We were all suppressing giggles by the time the hymn was finished. I was afraid to look at Father Tim but his expression didn’t tell me anything.
After the final blessing and closing hymn, while everyone was standing around and visiting, Ben and I checked out the CD a little more closely. In fine print we read ‘celebratory’. I will know better next time. Father Tim laughed with us later on. He said it was a brilliant choice. I don’t know about the brilliant part but it was purely accidental. I guess you could say the ‘Spirit was a movin’ at St. Luke the Evangelist Church on Easter morning.
Now to answer one of the questions that I have been asked. How does the Catholic Church answer the question, "What must I do to be saved?" First, the average Catholic might look at you and quip, ‘Saved from what?’ But then they will seriously tell you that we believe in Jesus Christ the Son of God who gave his life as payment for our sins. And yes, we do believe in Christ as our only Redeemer. We also believe that our conversion is a lifelong process that begins with our baptism is only finished when we finally see Jesus face to face.
Did you have a Glorious Easter Celebration? We did! Little did I know when I awoke on Sunday morning just how special a day it would turn out to be. Holy Week is always a very busy week for me. For the last few years I have always been able to take the week off to prepare for the many services and to save my voice for all the singing and Gregorian chant that is involved.
Thursday evening, my throat was still a little tight from the cough and sinus drainage I had been living with for a couple of weeks but I ‘limped’ through the Pange Lingua and the incense that night. Good Friday services don’t traditionally have a lot of music. It is, after all, the most solemn of nights. I spent Saturday at home practicing the hymns and the Easter Sequence so I would be ready for Sunday.
Easter is the perfect time for baptisms and confirmations and we had both. A whole family was welcomed into the church, just as it happened in the early days of the Christian Church. Mom and Dad were confirmed and their precious little baby girl was baptized. The music on Easter morning is very festive. We sing Alleluia and the Gloria for the first time since the beginning of Lent. Being a soprano, I tend to get on up into the rafters, which is one of the reasons I love the Easter hymns. Ben and Jettie began our service with some beautiful music. The rest of the service consisted of traditional hymns.
Traditional until communion that is. I had chosen an instrumental piece on a new CD I had purchased and loaded it into the stereo. The CD cover stated that it was Classic Traditional Christian Hymns. Now what could go wrong with that? The hymn I chose was Christ the Lord is Risen Today. That’s pretty traditional right? The music began playing and all seemed serene until the guitar riff. HUH? I was already seated when it happened. Ben turned and looked at me with shock in his eyes. Another riff! The tempo picked up and the ‘traditional classic’ instrumental hymn turned into a classic rock version of the hymn. We all had that deer in the head lights look. My daughter leaned over and whispered in my ear, ‘Gee mom, I’ve missed church for a couple of months and ya’ll go and changed on me.’ We were all suppressing giggles by the time the hymn was finished. I was afraid to look at Father Tim but his expression didn’t tell me anything.
After the final blessing and closing hymn, while everyone was standing around and visiting, Ben and I checked out the CD a little more closely. In fine print we read ‘celebratory’. I will know better next time. Father Tim laughed with us later on. He said it was a brilliant choice. I don’t know about the brilliant part but it was purely accidental. I guess you could say the ‘Spirit was a movin’ at St. Luke the Evangelist Church on Easter morning.
Now to answer one of the questions that I have been asked. How does the Catholic Church answer the question, "What must I do to be saved?" First, the average Catholic might look at you and quip, ‘Saved from what?’ But then they will seriously tell you that we believe in Jesus Christ the Son of God who gave his life as payment for our sins. And yes, we do believe in Christ as our only Redeemer. We also believe that our conversion is a lifelong process that begins with our baptism is only finished when we finally see Jesus face to face.
Dilittante
Week of April 6, 2008
I had a meeting with the Director of my department at the end of last week. Several of the women in my department had answered her e-mail about why they should be considered as one of the team leaders. I thought about it long and hard and threw my hat into the ring also. I am new to realm of medical records but I am not new to the concept of working as a team leader, or managing a group of women. At my age, I have a varied and colorful background of experience and creativity to draw upon that might just be to my advantage.
One of the questions she asked me during my interview was how I came to be so organized. I had to laugh. For one thing I am a ‘piler’. I have little piles here and big piles there, but I know what is in each pile and I can put my hands on just about anything I need to find in a relatively short period of time. I don’t lose things but things can end up in the wrong pile at times. My answer to her was that I am a list maker. I carry a small notebook around with me at all times and I write down what I need to do and check off what I have done. I write down all the steps of things that I need to do and I write down random thoughts that go through my head, saving them for later, or I hear a song or a comment that I might want to explore and expound upon later.
I have lists of books by my favorite authors that I carry with me when I go to a bookstore and when I see one of the books on my list I buy it and mark it off. Then it moves to my list of books to read. Some of my favorite authors have been very prolific and I like to read their books in the order that they published their works. I am funny that way. I have made lists of words that I like. Yes I said WORDS. Don’t you have words that you like? Words can do so many things. They can make you feel happy, sad, and intelligent or they can make you nod your head like you understand and then you make a note of that word or phrase and run to your computer or dictionary or thesaurus and look that puppy up. Take the word dilettante. Now doesn’t that one roll trippingly off the tongue? A dilettante is “(a) A dabbler in an art or a field of knowledge. Or (b) A lover of the fine arts; a connoisseur.” according to Webster’s Dictionary. Hmmm. That first one sounds like ‘jack of all trades and master of none’ and that might just be me.
I have a massive list of quotes by famous and not so famous people that I have collected over the years. I think I started it the years I was at the W. As a matter of fact I think I just started making lists in general while I was there. Before I went off to college, a grocery list my Mom made was as close as I got to list making. Mom has always had lists and Daddy always carried a little pocket notebook with him. His lists were scribbled maps of fields and what kind of insects he needed to spray and phone numbers. Sometimes it contained ideas that he thought of. Daddy was a big dreamer. Unfortunately, his dreams usually involved me or my sister. After a trip to Florida, he thought it would be wonderful if I got an airbrush and headed down to some nice sunny beach and set up a t-shirt hut and airbrushed t-shirts. Never mind that I had not ever used an airbrush before or that I don’t do sunny beaches with my fair skinned self. I did get an airbrush and I did do t-shirts for a while but not on a beach. He thought using the airbrush was a piece of cake until the day I handed it to him and said ‘Have at it Pop!’
He handed it back to me after a few sprays. Now, I have to hand it to him. He never did say he couldn’t do it. He just told me that I was better at it than he was and it did take a certain amount of control. If he hadn’t come up with the harebrained idea, I probably never would have learned to use that tool. I still have my first airbrushes and I use them on most of my really detailed watercolors. If he had not challenged me, I might not have learned that skill nor grown as an artist.
I credit my Mom for my continued need to learn constantly. Mom loves crossword puzzles and word searches. I don’t dare touch her daily paper without seeing it is turned to the crossword. Sometimes I offer to help but only if I see that she is totally stumped and believe me, that is not very often. She had been known to call me at strange hours wanting to know what ten letter word for jack of all trades and master of none might be. Uh, try dilettante.
I am very blessed to know that I came from two such creative parents and that they encouraged my sister and me to be creative. They also told us that we could do anything that we set our minds to. I think both of us are still wondering just what we will be when we ‘grow up’.
"Creativity is essentially a lonely art. An even lonelier struggle. To some a blessing. To others a curse. It is in reality the ability to reach inside yourself and drag forth from your very soul an idea."-- Lou Dorfsman
I had a meeting with the Director of my department at the end of last week. Several of the women in my department had answered her e-mail about why they should be considered as one of the team leaders. I thought about it long and hard and threw my hat into the ring also. I am new to realm of medical records but I am not new to the concept of working as a team leader, or managing a group of women. At my age, I have a varied and colorful background of experience and creativity to draw upon that might just be to my advantage.
One of the questions she asked me during my interview was how I came to be so organized. I had to laugh. For one thing I am a ‘piler’. I have little piles here and big piles there, but I know what is in each pile and I can put my hands on just about anything I need to find in a relatively short period of time. I don’t lose things but things can end up in the wrong pile at times. My answer to her was that I am a list maker. I carry a small notebook around with me at all times and I write down what I need to do and check off what I have done. I write down all the steps of things that I need to do and I write down random thoughts that go through my head, saving them for later, or I hear a song or a comment that I might want to explore and expound upon later.
I have lists of books by my favorite authors that I carry with me when I go to a bookstore and when I see one of the books on my list I buy it and mark it off. Then it moves to my list of books to read. Some of my favorite authors have been very prolific and I like to read their books in the order that they published their works. I am funny that way. I have made lists of words that I like. Yes I said WORDS. Don’t you have words that you like? Words can do so many things. They can make you feel happy, sad, and intelligent or they can make you nod your head like you understand and then you make a note of that word or phrase and run to your computer or dictionary or thesaurus and look that puppy up. Take the word dilettante. Now doesn’t that one roll trippingly off the tongue? A dilettante is “(a) A dabbler in an art or a field of knowledge. Or (b) A lover of the fine arts; a connoisseur.” according to Webster’s Dictionary. Hmmm. That first one sounds like ‘jack of all trades and master of none’ and that might just be me.
I have a massive list of quotes by famous and not so famous people that I have collected over the years. I think I started it the years I was at the W. As a matter of fact I think I just started making lists in general while I was there. Before I went off to college, a grocery list my Mom made was as close as I got to list making. Mom has always had lists and Daddy always carried a little pocket notebook with him. His lists were scribbled maps of fields and what kind of insects he needed to spray and phone numbers. Sometimes it contained ideas that he thought of. Daddy was a big dreamer. Unfortunately, his dreams usually involved me or my sister. After a trip to Florida, he thought it would be wonderful if I got an airbrush and headed down to some nice sunny beach and set up a t-shirt hut and airbrushed t-shirts. Never mind that I had not ever used an airbrush before or that I don’t do sunny beaches with my fair skinned self. I did get an airbrush and I did do t-shirts for a while but not on a beach. He thought using the airbrush was a piece of cake until the day I handed it to him and said ‘Have at it Pop!’
He handed it back to me after a few sprays. Now, I have to hand it to him. He never did say he couldn’t do it. He just told me that I was better at it than he was and it did take a certain amount of control. If he hadn’t come up with the harebrained idea, I probably never would have learned to use that tool. I still have my first airbrushes and I use them on most of my really detailed watercolors. If he had not challenged me, I might not have learned that skill nor grown as an artist.
I credit my Mom for my continued need to learn constantly. Mom loves crossword puzzles and word searches. I don’t dare touch her daily paper without seeing it is turned to the crossword. Sometimes I offer to help but only if I see that she is totally stumped and believe me, that is not very often. She had been known to call me at strange hours wanting to know what ten letter word for jack of all trades and master of none might be. Uh, try dilettante.
I am very blessed to know that I came from two such creative parents and that they encouraged my sister and me to be creative. They also told us that we could do anything that we set our minds to. I think both of us are still wondering just what we will be when we ‘grow up’.
"Creativity is essentially a lonely art. An even lonelier struggle. To some a blessing. To others a curse. It is in reality the ability to reach inside yourself and drag forth from your very soul an idea."-- Lou Dorfsman
March 10th MH article
March 10, 2008
Vonda Tedford-Keon
I’ve started and stopped and deleted this article several times and it has to do with my
mindset. My family, or rather my daughters and I, has recently been the target of some
rather hate filled and threatening comments and e-mail because we are Catholic. The
anonymous person or persons that have made the threats and comments, are very close
minded individuals. I suspect they will be in for a rather unpleasant surprise when they
leave the confines of their sheltered lives here in rural Calhoun County and enter the
hallowed halls of liberal arts education at Ole Miss or MSU or any other place of higher
learning. They will find themselves going to classes and living and eating with people of
other races and other nationalities. They will experience different cultures and find out
that Gays and Lesbians are not all flamboyant and in your face. Their professors will be
Asian or Arab, Christian or Jewish and quite possibly Atheist. The days of intolerance
should be long gone but unfortunately there are those in every generation that still
pass on ‘ism’s.
I have decided to use my column as a venue to try and dispel any of the myths
about my Catholic faith. The image most people have of Catholics come from movies
and television and books or the urban legend of your friend who had an aunt who had a
friend that knew someone that used to be married to someone whose mother they thought
was a catholic. They are always in the mafia, or a drunk Irish cop, or a singing nun
wearing a habit, or the priest doing an exorcism. Well, you can’t judge a Catholic by the
cover.
Here is the least you need to know about Catholics. #1. The Catholic Church is
the largest single denomination of the Christian faiths. #2. Catholics are Christians.
#3. Catholics do have Bibles and yes we do read them and the Bible is preached and
taught from at each service. #4. There is much diversity of thought within the Catholic
religion. #5. Outreach, Charity and Social Justice are central to Catholicism.
The word catholic was first used by Ignatius of Antioch around the year 110AD.
It means universal or whole. Ignatius was suggesting that the Christian church should be
one body just as it was when Christ walked on earth and his followers were one. Then
Augustine, a church theologian in the 400’s used the word Catholic to mean all
membership, everywhere as one church. Today the term Catholic refers to the fact that
this religion/denomination teaches the same doctrine everywhere and it includes all
classes of all people. The Catholic Church includes many nationalities and exists in
almost every country of the world. There is no such thing as a typical Catholic. We are a
cultural mixing bowl of color, music, art, dance, and tradition. Nearly one in five people
inhabiting the earth are Catholic.
Catholics daily find nourishment and strength from the Bible. The Catholic Bible
contains both the Hebrew Scriptures (or Old Testament) as well as the Christian
Scriptures (or the New Testament) as one book. The sacred Scriptures are the inspired
word of God. God is Author of the Bible because he inspired the human authors. There
are 46 books of the Old Testament and 27 books of the New Testament in the Catholic
Bible. The four Gospels occupy a central place in the Bible because Christ is their focus.
The unity of the two testaments reveals the whole of God’s plan for man. We believe
that Jesus is our Lord and Savior just as do our Protestant brothers and sisters.
I hope that the day will come when people can sit and talk with each other and
not have to face prejudice because of what religion they happen to follow. I pray for the
day when people of all faiths can actually work together for the common good and
help each other instead of holding back because of a difference of worship style. I pray
the day will arrive when people will care enough to find out that among the Christian
denominations, we all may have different ways of prayer and worship but we ALL share
the common thread that is Jesus Christ is our Savior.
To Be Continued……….
Vonda Tedford-Keon
I’ve started and stopped and deleted this article several times and it has to do with my
mindset. My family, or rather my daughters and I, has recently been the target of some
rather hate filled and threatening comments and e-mail because we are Catholic. The
anonymous person or persons that have made the threats and comments, are very close
minded individuals. I suspect they will be in for a rather unpleasant surprise when they
leave the confines of their sheltered lives here in rural Calhoun County and enter the
hallowed halls of liberal arts education at Ole Miss or MSU or any other place of higher
learning. They will find themselves going to classes and living and eating with people of
other races and other nationalities. They will experience different cultures and find out
that Gays and Lesbians are not all flamboyant and in your face. Their professors will be
Asian or Arab, Christian or Jewish and quite possibly Atheist. The days of intolerance
should be long gone but unfortunately there are those in every generation that still
pass on ‘ism’s.
I have decided to use my column as a venue to try and dispel any of the myths
about my Catholic faith. The image most people have of Catholics come from movies
and television and books or the urban legend of your friend who had an aunt who had a
friend that knew someone that used to be married to someone whose mother they thought
was a catholic. They are always in the mafia, or a drunk Irish cop, or a singing nun
wearing a habit, or the priest doing an exorcism. Well, you can’t judge a Catholic by the
cover.
Here is the least you need to know about Catholics. #1. The Catholic Church is
the largest single denomination of the Christian faiths. #2. Catholics are Christians.
#3. Catholics do have Bibles and yes we do read them and the Bible is preached and
taught from at each service. #4. There is much diversity of thought within the Catholic
religion. #5. Outreach, Charity and Social Justice are central to Catholicism.
The word catholic was first used by Ignatius of Antioch around the year 110AD.
It means universal or whole. Ignatius was suggesting that the Christian church should be
one body just as it was when Christ walked on earth and his followers were one. Then
Augustine, a church theologian in the 400’s used the word Catholic to mean all
membership, everywhere as one church. Today the term Catholic refers to the fact that
this religion/denomination teaches the same doctrine everywhere and it includes all
classes of all people. The Catholic Church includes many nationalities and exists in
almost every country of the world. There is no such thing as a typical Catholic. We are a
cultural mixing bowl of color, music, art, dance, and tradition. Nearly one in five people
inhabiting the earth are Catholic.
Catholics daily find nourishment and strength from the Bible. The Catholic Bible
contains both the Hebrew Scriptures (or Old Testament) as well as the Christian
Scriptures (or the New Testament) as one book. The sacred Scriptures are the inspired
word of God. God is Author of the Bible because he inspired the human authors. There
are 46 books of the Old Testament and 27 books of the New Testament in the Catholic
Bible. The four Gospels occupy a central place in the Bible because Christ is their focus.
The unity of the two testaments reveals the whole of God’s plan for man. We believe
that Jesus is our Lord and Savior just as do our Protestant brothers and sisters.
I hope that the day will come when people can sit and talk with each other and
not have to face prejudice because of what religion they happen to follow. I pray for the
day when people of all faiths can actually work together for the common good and
help each other instead of holding back because of a difference of worship style. I pray
the day will arrive when people will care enough to find out that among the Christian
denominations, we all may have different ways of prayer and worship but we ALL share
the common thread that is Jesus Christ is our Savior.
To Be Continued……….
Homecoming at MUW April 2008
I took a stroll down Memory Lane over the weekend. It was Homecoming at MUW. The whole family went with me. Erin Michelle went because she just likes to go; Ariel went because she was meeting up her new friends to play some racquet ball and Scott went along for the ride because he wanted to see where our oldest daughter would be living and attending school in the fall. It was great to line up with my former classmates of the 70's and join all the other alums from 1930 through 2007 and march into the auditorium that we all graduated in. The girls and Scott, as well as other alum's family members, saw a huge group of women and a few smart men that had a camaraderie you don't see in too many colleges. I can remember my first year at the W and it was Homecoming weekend. I could not for the life of me see how there could be a homecoming without a football game. After my four years of study at that school I understood. Homecoming wasn't about a football game, it was about getting back together with all of your old buddies and keeping the friendships alive.
Ariel took off after our picnic lunch to meet up with her new friends at the Stark Recreation Center to learn to play racquet ball. Scott and Erin and I went to tour the Culinary Arts Department where Erin has shown an interest in studying. Since she was 4 years old, she has always said that she wanted to be a chef. But lately she is thinking early childhood education. She is now trying to figure out how to do both. After some wonderful desserts and tea in the Culinary Arts Department, we ventured to the Fine Arts Department, my old stomping grounds, to see the graduating senior's art exhibition. One of my 'old' professors, Mr. Nawrocki was there. I discovered he wasn't much older than me. In fact, my freshman year was his first year of teaching. He is a lot more chatty now than he was then. He did remember me. Not because I was a standout in his particular discipline though. It was more along the lines of, I was one of the Art Majors that was on probation one year because, in our Figure Drawing course we were, GASP! SHOCK!, drawing nudes. Well, how else do you learn how to draw the human body if you don't do nudes? I can tell you it was quite the scandal in 1972. For two long years we were to only draw figures in bathing suits. At least that is what the administration saw. We kept the nudes under wraps, pun intended. Nawrocki and I laughed as we recounted the story to the ones that were in the gallery listening to us.
My college days saw me start to school going to Mississippi State College for Women in 1971 and then the name changed in 1974 and I graduated from Mississippi University for Women. It is quite likely that the same type of thing will happen to my daughter Ariel. She will start this fall to MUW and since they now admit men (since 1982!) another name change is looming on the horizon. When Erin Michelle gets there in 3 years, she will probably start in with the new name.
The campus is still the same yet it has seen some changes. The Fine Arts Department was damaged by a tornado 8 years ago and it is finally being restored and will reopen October 31 of this year. Ariel will be majoring in Theatre, so she really will be roaming in my footsteps because, Fine Arts also has encompasses the Performing Arts and is taught in the same building now. As she begins making her memories, mine are going to increase too.
My darling little niece Bella is making sweet memories for my sister Lisa. Bella has a cute way of saying things that I have dubbed 'Bella-isms'. Last week she was saying "I'll be there in a jippy!". She also was reading a book and one of the characters in the book was a detective but she kept saying '"tective". The De just couldn't come out. She is a mischievous little girl too. They were sitting out under the big oak tree in their yard having a picnic and Lisa noticed a lime green glow in the tail pipe of her car. As she investigated, lo and behold, it was a bright green plastic Easter Egg that little Bella had shoved in there. When questioned about it, Bella thoughtfully said 'uh huh, I did it.' Johnny tried to get it out but it was just too far in there to reach so he told Lisa and Bella to stand back while he started the car. They did not know what to expect. As the engine started and ran for a very little while, the egg started quivering and it turned around and all of a sudden, POW! out the pipe it shot. Bella dissolved into a fit of laughter at the sight of that flying lime green Easter egg. I think that sight will live a long time in her memory and one day she will walk down memory lane with her Mom and they will enjoy the laughter as they re-live that particular Sunday afternoon, sitting under the oak tree at the top of the hill.
Ariel took off after our picnic lunch to meet up with her new friends at the Stark Recreation Center to learn to play racquet ball. Scott and Erin and I went to tour the Culinary Arts Department where Erin has shown an interest in studying. Since she was 4 years old, she has always said that she wanted to be a chef. But lately she is thinking early childhood education. She is now trying to figure out how to do both. After some wonderful desserts and tea in the Culinary Arts Department, we ventured to the Fine Arts Department, my old stomping grounds, to see the graduating senior's art exhibition. One of my 'old' professors, Mr. Nawrocki was there. I discovered he wasn't much older than me. In fact, my freshman year was his first year of teaching. He is a lot more chatty now than he was then. He did remember me. Not because I was a standout in his particular discipline though. It was more along the lines of, I was one of the Art Majors that was on probation one year because, in our Figure Drawing course we were, GASP! SHOCK!, drawing nudes. Well, how else do you learn how to draw the human body if you don't do nudes? I can tell you it was quite the scandal in 1972. For two long years we were to only draw figures in bathing suits. At least that is what the administration saw. We kept the nudes under wraps, pun intended. Nawrocki and I laughed as we recounted the story to the ones that were in the gallery listening to us.
My college days saw me start to school going to Mississippi State College for Women in 1971 and then the name changed in 1974 and I graduated from Mississippi University for Women. It is quite likely that the same type of thing will happen to my daughter Ariel. She will start this fall to MUW and since they now admit men (since 1982!) another name change is looming on the horizon. When Erin Michelle gets there in 3 years, she will probably start in with the new name.
The campus is still the same yet it has seen some changes. The Fine Arts Department was damaged by a tornado 8 years ago and it is finally being restored and will reopen October 31 of this year. Ariel will be majoring in Theatre, so she really will be roaming in my footsteps because, Fine Arts also has encompasses the Performing Arts and is taught in the same building now. As she begins making her memories, mine are going to increase too.
My darling little niece Bella is making sweet memories for my sister Lisa. Bella has a cute way of saying things that I have dubbed 'Bella-isms'. Last week she was saying "I'll be there in a jippy!". She also was reading a book and one of the characters in the book was a detective but she kept saying '"tective". The De just couldn't come out. She is a mischievous little girl too. They were sitting out under the big oak tree in their yard having a picnic and Lisa noticed a lime green glow in the tail pipe of her car. As she investigated, lo and behold, it was a bright green plastic Easter Egg that little Bella had shoved in there. When questioned about it, Bella thoughtfully said 'uh huh, I did it.' Johnny tried to get it out but it was just too far in there to reach so he told Lisa and Bella to stand back while he started the car. They did not know what to expect. As the engine started and ran for a very little while, the egg started quivering and it turned around and all of a sudden, POW! out the pipe it shot. Bella dissolved into a fit of laughter at the sight of that flying lime green Easter egg. I think that sight will live a long time in her memory and one day she will walk down memory lane with her Mom and they will enjoy the laughter as they re-live that particular Sunday afternoon, sitting under the oak tree at the top of the hill.
Dandelions and High School Seniors
May 5, 2008
I’m going to wax poetic for a little bit. It occurred to me last week, as I was driving to work, that life is at times like a dandelion ‘puff’. Do you remember when you were a kid and you would see the dandelion puffs in the yard and you would grab one and give it a blow and those seeds just scattered where ever the breeze would carry them. As children we didn’t realize that we were spreading the seeds of a weed and if the truth be known, we didn’t care. It was pretty and those little seeds could really fly a long way only to come back to earth and plant its self so that a new plant would grow and the cycle would continue.
I’ve been scattered quite a few times. People that have blown in and out of my life or drifted in and out come to mind. Sometimes I will suddenly think of someone I knew when I was in kindergarten in California, or I will recall something that occurred during my college days. Watching TV or listening to radio will stir up memories of people that have long ago moved on. Sometimes it’s just faces that I recall and other times I recall a name but can’t pull up a face. Sometimes it’s family members that have passed on. Sometimes it is friends that get scattered.
I learned a couple of weeks ago that one of my newer friends had been offered a plum that she richly deserves. There are many reasons why I will hate to see her move on but I understand completely about advancement in the job market. It has just been so nice to work with a fellow creative person whose “pallet may seem to be a couple of bricks shy of a load” like I’ve been accused of. Another person just drifting through my life.
I look at the graduating seniors this year and those little dandelions are about to get scattered all over the place. They are scrambling to finish their tests and get their invitations mailed out and put the finishing touches on college applications and scholarships. I’ve been caught up in that whirlwind with my daughter as she goes here and there, writing this essay and making that interview. She worked hard during the 10 years I home schooled her and these last 2 years in public school. There were times during those 10 years that I would start doubting myself and my ability, but as I see the accomplishments that she has made, I know that I gave her a strong educational background. Would I make the same decision to homeschool if I had it to do over again? In a heart beat I surely would.
Now back to those dandelions. I called them a weed but to some folks they aren’t. The dandelion is a pretty versatile plant. The bright green new leaves are good for making a fresh salad from. You can make Dandelion wine from the bright yellow blossoms. You can make a ‘tonic’ from the leaves that is a natural diuretic. A little of that tonic will ‘clean out’ the old system! You can even make syrup from the blossoms for your pancakes. Roasting the roots and grinding them up made a coffee substitute. There is a lot of good in the common old dandelion, so it’s a good thing that it’s pretty little puff balls get blown to the 4 corners of the earth. Our kids are getting ready to be scattered like those dandelion seeds. Come graduation night, they will grab that prized diploma and toss that mortar board up in the air and then its off to new destinations and new experiences. There is going to always be something new on the horizon as they drift around and then settle to earth. It’s a very uncertain world that we are turning over to our kids. Let’s just hope and pray that they will be better stewards of it than the past generations have been.
I’m going to wax poetic for a little bit. It occurred to me last week, as I was driving to work, that life is at times like a dandelion ‘puff’. Do you remember when you were a kid and you would see the dandelion puffs in the yard and you would grab one and give it a blow and those seeds just scattered where ever the breeze would carry them. As children we didn’t realize that we were spreading the seeds of a weed and if the truth be known, we didn’t care. It was pretty and those little seeds could really fly a long way only to come back to earth and plant its self so that a new plant would grow and the cycle would continue.
I’ve been scattered quite a few times. People that have blown in and out of my life or drifted in and out come to mind. Sometimes I will suddenly think of someone I knew when I was in kindergarten in California, or I will recall something that occurred during my college days. Watching TV or listening to radio will stir up memories of people that have long ago moved on. Sometimes it’s just faces that I recall and other times I recall a name but can’t pull up a face. Sometimes it’s family members that have passed on. Sometimes it is friends that get scattered.
I learned a couple of weeks ago that one of my newer friends had been offered a plum that she richly deserves. There are many reasons why I will hate to see her move on but I understand completely about advancement in the job market. It has just been so nice to work with a fellow creative person whose “pallet may seem to be a couple of bricks shy of a load” like I’ve been accused of. Another person just drifting through my life.
I look at the graduating seniors this year and those little dandelions are about to get scattered all over the place. They are scrambling to finish their tests and get their invitations mailed out and put the finishing touches on college applications and scholarships. I’ve been caught up in that whirlwind with my daughter as she goes here and there, writing this essay and making that interview. She worked hard during the 10 years I home schooled her and these last 2 years in public school. There were times during those 10 years that I would start doubting myself and my ability, but as I see the accomplishments that she has made, I know that I gave her a strong educational background. Would I make the same decision to homeschool if I had it to do over again? In a heart beat I surely would.
Now back to those dandelions. I called them a weed but to some folks they aren’t. The dandelion is a pretty versatile plant. The bright green new leaves are good for making a fresh salad from. You can make Dandelion wine from the bright yellow blossoms. You can make a ‘tonic’ from the leaves that is a natural diuretic. A little of that tonic will ‘clean out’ the old system! You can even make syrup from the blossoms for your pancakes. Roasting the roots and grinding them up made a coffee substitute. There is a lot of good in the common old dandelion, so it’s a good thing that it’s pretty little puff balls get blown to the 4 corners of the earth. Our kids are getting ready to be scattered like those dandelion seeds. Come graduation night, they will grab that prized diploma and toss that mortar board up in the air and then its off to new destinations and new experiences. There is going to always be something new on the horizon as they drift around and then settle to earth. It’s a very uncertain world that we are turning over to our kids. Let’s just hope and pray that they will be better stewards of it than the past generations have been.
the Week of March 31, 2008 MH article
Week of March 31, 2008
Last week was a busy one and I must truthfully say that I am most content when I am busy. I absolutely cannot handle just sitting around doing nothing. Oh believe me, I like to take a break and sit just as much as anyone, but I can’t do it for extended periods of time and be idle. I have to be busy doing something.
At work, I spend the majority of my time staring at my computer screen as I review page after page after page of what sometimes seems like endless amounts of information. For that I have to sit but I am busy. When I study I have to sit, but my mind is busy and usually so are my fingers because they are busy typing a paper. I can’t even watch television without ‘doing’ something. I am usually doing two things while the television is on. I watch American Idol and cook supper. I watch CSI Miami and fold towels. I watch CSI Las Vegas and attempt to straighten my desk. Or I draw or paint something while keeping one eye on the television and another on what I am working on.
The time is rapidly approaching when I will be finished with my final Theology paper and then I can start reading books again. I have stacks of them just waiting for me. I miss my favorite authors like Clive Cussler and Daniel Silva and Patricia Cornwell and Tim Dorsey. I did break from my traditional reading fare this year and I joined a Reading Club in Tupelo at my old parish of St. James. Once a month we have gotten together and discussed some wonderful books and Authors. The first author was Flannery O’Connor and her story Revelation. The next book was Willa Cather and Death Comes to the Archbishop. The April selection is Alice McDermott’s Charming Billy. They are all books I probably never would have picked up if not for the book club. Now I want to read more of those authors’ works and maybe even start a local book club. If you are interested let me know. Tell Mack or Debbie and they will tell me.
Last Thursday, the BHS Forensics Team made their last trek of the year to Jackson for competition. The four qualifying team members, their sponsor and coach, Mrs. Movitz and I loaded up the white whale of a van and headed south. The team had to sign in at 8 AM on Friday morning so we went down Thursday evening so they could be well rested and ready for the mock Congress. While the team was in Congress, I had nothing to do for five hours so I thought I would drive across the street to a Barnes and Noble bookstore I had seen at a new shopping center just a stones throw from the host school. It was just pure bliss. Inside was the pre-requisite coffee shop where I got a much needed cup of coffee made to my specifications and then I just walked around and browsed through the thousands of books. If the Publishers Clearing House people ever draw my name, you can rest assured that I would spend a huge chunk on books.
The Forensics Team gave it their all and they were competing against some cut throat teams from schools all over the state. Mrs. Movitz and I were judges for the debate portion of the competition. I came away from the teams that I judged thinking I didn’t want to get into an argument with any of those budding politicians. Most were poised and confident and very well versed in the subject they were debating and some were just ‘fluffers’. By and large it was a great experience for all of us. Ariel and Dustin broke to the 3rd round finals. We had our fingers crossed for the prize of going to compete in Las Vegas but alas, it was not to be. They had some pretty stiff competition. Now we just want to get the score sheets and read the comments written by the team that judged them.
While we were down in Jackson, we ate at P.F. Chang’s China Bistro. It was a great dining experience with chop sticks. The food was excellent and nothing like some of the china buffets that we are used to in this part of the state. Trust me on this one. We all ordered different dishes and shared so that we could all get a taste of everything. It was good and extremely affordable and was in a very elegant setting. I loved the lettuce wraps and as soon as I can find all the ingredients, I am whipping those up for supper.
The trip back home was uneventful. The three young men snoozed all the way home, Ariel played co-pilot and watched traffic for me while Mrs. Movitz was quietly figuring out her strategy for next years Forensics Team.
When Ariel and I arrived at home, we were greeted with the sight of a cute, cuddly four legged puppy on a leash. There stood my grinning husband and second daughter. “Look what we have! He was free to a good home and he was the prettiest of the litter.” From the looks of his feet he is going to be the size of a moose too! So I think I now have an exercise companion. Since I always have to be busy, I believe that young Tucker, as he has been named, will soon be dragging me through the streets of East Bruce helping me to drop some of this excess weight I am carting around. After walking him a few times I may just finally learn to sit and do nothing except to breath.
Last week was a busy one and I must truthfully say that I am most content when I am busy. I absolutely cannot handle just sitting around doing nothing. Oh believe me, I like to take a break and sit just as much as anyone, but I can’t do it for extended periods of time and be idle. I have to be busy doing something.
At work, I spend the majority of my time staring at my computer screen as I review page after page after page of what sometimes seems like endless amounts of information. For that I have to sit but I am busy. When I study I have to sit, but my mind is busy and usually so are my fingers because they are busy typing a paper. I can’t even watch television without ‘doing’ something. I am usually doing two things while the television is on. I watch American Idol and cook supper. I watch CSI Miami and fold towels. I watch CSI Las Vegas and attempt to straighten my desk. Or I draw or paint something while keeping one eye on the television and another on what I am working on.
The time is rapidly approaching when I will be finished with my final Theology paper and then I can start reading books again. I have stacks of them just waiting for me. I miss my favorite authors like Clive Cussler and Daniel Silva and Patricia Cornwell and Tim Dorsey. I did break from my traditional reading fare this year and I joined a Reading Club in Tupelo at my old parish of St. James. Once a month we have gotten together and discussed some wonderful books and Authors. The first author was Flannery O’Connor and her story Revelation. The next book was Willa Cather and Death Comes to the Archbishop. The April selection is Alice McDermott’s Charming Billy. They are all books I probably never would have picked up if not for the book club. Now I want to read more of those authors’ works and maybe even start a local book club. If you are interested let me know. Tell Mack or Debbie and they will tell me.
Last Thursday, the BHS Forensics Team made their last trek of the year to Jackson for competition. The four qualifying team members, their sponsor and coach, Mrs. Movitz and I loaded up the white whale of a van and headed south. The team had to sign in at 8 AM on Friday morning so we went down Thursday evening so they could be well rested and ready for the mock Congress. While the team was in Congress, I had nothing to do for five hours so I thought I would drive across the street to a Barnes and Noble bookstore I had seen at a new shopping center just a stones throw from the host school. It was just pure bliss. Inside was the pre-requisite coffee shop where I got a much needed cup of coffee made to my specifications and then I just walked around and browsed through the thousands of books. If the Publishers Clearing House people ever draw my name, you can rest assured that I would spend a huge chunk on books.
The Forensics Team gave it their all and they were competing against some cut throat teams from schools all over the state. Mrs. Movitz and I were judges for the debate portion of the competition. I came away from the teams that I judged thinking I didn’t want to get into an argument with any of those budding politicians. Most were poised and confident and very well versed in the subject they were debating and some were just ‘fluffers’. By and large it was a great experience for all of us. Ariel and Dustin broke to the 3rd round finals. We had our fingers crossed for the prize of going to compete in Las Vegas but alas, it was not to be. They had some pretty stiff competition. Now we just want to get the score sheets and read the comments written by the team that judged them.
While we were down in Jackson, we ate at P.F. Chang’s China Bistro. It was a great dining experience with chop sticks. The food was excellent and nothing like some of the china buffets that we are used to in this part of the state. Trust me on this one. We all ordered different dishes and shared so that we could all get a taste of everything. It was good and extremely affordable and was in a very elegant setting. I loved the lettuce wraps and as soon as I can find all the ingredients, I am whipping those up for supper.
The trip back home was uneventful. The three young men snoozed all the way home, Ariel played co-pilot and watched traffic for me while Mrs. Movitz was quietly figuring out her strategy for next years Forensics Team.
When Ariel and I arrived at home, we were greeted with the sight of a cute, cuddly four legged puppy on a leash. There stood my grinning husband and second daughter. “Look what we have! He was free to a good home and he was the prettiest of the litter.” From the looks of his feet he is going to be the size of a moose too! So I think I now have an exercise companion. Since I always have to be busy, I believe that young Tucker, as he has been named, will soon be dragging me through the streets of East Bruce helping me to drop some of this excess weight I am carting around. After walking him a few times I may just finally learn to sit and do nothing except to breath.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
what has happened to Christmas!?
Aaaah it’s that time of year again. After Thanksgiving, time to start buying Christmas gifts, the baking, the decorating, the traveling, the empty bank account, the stress of the season. What on earth has happened to Christmas?For about the last 15 years, when this time of year starts, I start getting a bit cranky. My family will probably tell you I get a lot cranky. I have struggled for years to not fall into the trap of overspending. I can do that anytime of the year, thank you very much. But there is something about this time of the year that leads people to spend too much. The thing that I struggle with is what does all of this gluttonous commercialism have to do with the Birth of Jesus? Christmas should be a time of getting together with our families and celebrating the miracle of the birth of the Redeemer. Instead it has turned into something else. I have even fallen into the trap of venturing out on the day after Thanksgiving and camping out in a store parking lot before dawn just to be able to get one of the latest electronic gadgets at a good price. Through the years I have even seen seemingly sane people turn into animals that fight over the last doll or Xbox type game on the shelf. Now I ask you, what do you think Christmas should be like? Don’t you agree that Christmas was meant to change the world? Why don’t we do something radical this year and do Christmas differently. Let’s focus on the divine and not on the discounts this year and for the years to come. We can start by resisting a culture that tells us what to buy, wear and spend with no regard to bringing glory to Jesus.I ran across a site on the internet called the Advent Conspiracy and it had some very interesting ideas on how to bring Christ back into Christmas instead of blatant consumerism. I really liked the part about “Worship more, spend less, give more ‘relational type gifts’, love all”. Worship more. God is honored by us gathering to enjoy one another’s company in His service. This can be done several ways not just in going to a church service. Helping out at the local Food Pantry or working on a Habitat for Humanity project or selling t-shirts to raise money for someone in dire need. Those are all ways to worship the Lord.Spend Less. Saying yes to Jesus means saying no to overspending. When we say no to over-consumerism then we are creating the space to say yes to Jesus and his presence in our lives.Give More. Just hear me out. We can give relational gifts because we worship a God that gave us the ultimate relational gift of His Son for our salvation. Think about it. We can give gifts of meaning instead of material gifts. Last year I gave my sister a portrait of her grand child that I had drawn. I could not have given her anything else that meant more. In thinking about what it means to give ourselves to each other, we are transformed by the story of Advent, knowing that we give relationally because God gave relationally. Pictures, poems, pieces of art, tickets to the Bollinger Family Theater or Blast from the Past, all become relational alternatives that foster what matters most in life. Love All. 2 Corinthians 8:9 tells us that Christ, though he was rich, entered our poverty so we would no longer be poor. The money that we would save by giving relationally could be used to help someone else in need. It could go to places that need clean drinking water, or to local food pantries, or to heifer international. This Christmas try something radical for a change. Spend time together, Prepare a feast with a meal, candles and ambiance music; Buy your child a baseball bat for a trip to the batting cages together; wrap a pound of coffee or a tin of favorite tea with a date to get together with a close friend; Wrap popcorn and a classic DVD for a movie night with a friend; Host Monday night football and make some homemade pizzas; Wrap 2 copies of a classic book to read with someone close to you; “Babysit” for those parents who could use a night out; Yard work for an elderly person in your life; get together over a cup of coffee with family or friends and talk theology and what God is doing in your lives. See how easy this could be? Make time to make gifts. Its surprisingly relaxing and they really do mean much more. Just make it personal.So what do you say? Want to join me for a little less stressful Christmas? Christmas was meant to change the world and it still can, one person at a time, if we want to do it.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Blogging from East Bruce
10/15/07
Vonda Tedford-Keon
After writing about cooler weather last week and my craving for a bowl of chili, I was so excited to wake up to cooler temperatures. The first thing I did Thursday afternoon, after I left work, was head to the store and buy all the ingredients needed to get a pot of Cincinnati chili going. Now, I like all kinds of chili but my favorite is Cincinnati style.
I’ll even share it with you but I have to warn you about the secret ingredients. You have to be really open minded and ready to try something that will knock your socks off.
Outside of the state of Texas, Cincinnati, Ohio, is the most chili-crazed city in the United States. Cincinnati prides itself on being a true chili capital, with more than 180 chili parlors. Cincinnati-style chili is quite different from its more familiar Texas cousin, and it has developed a cult-like popularity. Cincinnati chili is best enjoyed spooned over freshly made pasta and topped with a combination of chopped onions, shredded Cheddar cheese, refried beans or kidney beans, and crushed oyster crackers. If you choose "the works," you are eating what they call Five-Way Chili. Make sure to pile on the toppings - that's what sets it apart from any other chili dish.
Here’s the key to how to eat it:
One Way: just grab a bowl full topped with Oyster crackers.
Two way: Chili served on spaghetti.
Three Way: Additionally topped with shredded Cheddar cheese.
Four Way: Additionally topped with chopped onions.
Five Way: Additionally topped with kidney beans.
1 large onion chopped
1 pound extra-lean ground beef1 clove garlic, minced
1 tablespoon chili powder
1 teaspoon ground allspice
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon red (cayenne) pepper
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 tbsp unsweetened cocoa
1 (15-ounce) can tomato sauce
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
1 tablespoon cider vinegar
1/2 cup water1 (16-ounce) package uncooked dried spaghetti
Toppings (see the key above)
In a large frying pan over medium-high heat, sauté onion, ground beef, garlic, and chili powder until ground beef is slightly cooked. Drain the meat mixture and place it in your crock pot. Add allspice, cinnamon, cumin, cayenne pepper, salt, unsweetened cocoa or chocolate, tomato sauce, Worcestershire sauce, cider vinegar, and water. Cook on medium or high for 2 hours.
Cook spaghetti according to package directions
Ladle chili over spaghetti and serve with toppings of your choice. Oyster crackers are served in a separate container on the side.
Now that I have finished sounding like someone on the Food Network, I hope you try my Cincinnati Chili. It is a delight to the senses and you will really be surprised at how good it is. And if you just have to have that ‘bite’ then got and add a jalapeno slice for good measure. I promise you that you will love this chili.
Bon Appetite!
Vonda Keon can be reached at vondak8753@yahoo.com.
10/15/07
Vonda Tedford-Keon
After writing about cooler weather last week and my craving for a bowl of chili, I was so excited to wake up to cooler temperatures. The first thing I did Thursday afternoon, after I left work, was head to the store and buy all the ingredients needed to get a pot of Cincinnati chili going. Now, I like all kinds of chili but my favorite is Cincinnati style.
I’ll even share it with you but I have to warn you about the secret ingredients. You have to be really open minded and ready to try something that will knock your socks off.
Outside of the state of Texas, Cincinnati, Ohio, is the most chili-crazed city in the United States. Cincinnati prides itself on being a true chili capital, with more than 180 chili parlors. Cincinnati-style chili is quite different from its more familiar Texas cousin, and it has developed a cult-like popularity. Cincinnati chili is best enjoyed spooned over freshly made pasta and topped with a combination of chopped onions, shredded Cheddar cheese, refried beans or kidney beans, and crushed oyster crackers. If you choose "the works," you are eating what they call Five-Way Chili. Make sure to pile on the toppings - that's what sets it apart from any other chili dish.
Here’s the key to how to eat it:
One Way: just grab a bowl full topped with Oyster crackers.
Two way: Chili served on spaghetti.
Three Way: Additionally topped with shredded Cheddar cheese.
Four Way: Additionally topped with chopped onions.
Five Way: Additionally topped with kidney beans.
1 large onion chopped
1 pound extra-lean ground beef1 clove garlic, minced
1 tablespoon chili powder
1 teaspoon ground allspice
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon red (cayenne) pepper
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 tbsp unsweetened cocoa
1 (15-ounce) can tomato sauce
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
1 tablespoon cider vinegar
1/2 cup water1 (16-ounce) package uncooked dried spaghetti
Toppings (see the key above)
In a large frying pan over medium-high heat, sauté onion, ground beef, garlic, and chili powder until ground beef is slightly cooked. Drain the meat mixture and place it in your crock pot. Add allspice, cinnamon, cumin, cayenne pepper, salt, unsweetened cocoa or chocolate, tomato sauce, Worcestershire sauce, cider vinegar, and water. Cook on medium or high for 2 hours.
Cook spaghetti according to package directions
Ladle chili over spaghetti and serve with toppings of your choice. Oyster crackers are served in a separate container on the side.
Now that I have finished sounding like someone on the Food Network, I hope you try my Cincinnati Chili. It is a delight to the senses and you will really be surprised at how good it is. And if you just have to have that ‘bite’ then got and add a jalapeno slice for good measure. I promise you that you will love this chili.
Bon Appetite!
Vonda Keon can be reached at vondak8753@yahoo.com.
Sunday, October 07, 2007
10/4/07 column
Ahh! That Fall nip is in the morning air. The sky takes on a different color this time of year. It is a more intense Cerulean blue instead of a washed out version. I smell the turned earth of the potato fields as they are harvested and the smell of the defoliant on the cotton. Smells invoke certain memories for me. The farm chemicals always make me think of my Dad and his airplanes. My Dad, David Tedford loved to fly. Some of my earliest memories are of flying with him along the Pacific /California coastline in the little silver Aronica. We would see pods of whales on their migration path and watch the waves break and just fly for the love of flying. I grew up thinking all kids could go flying, that’s how normal flying was to me.
When we moved to Mississippi in 1959, it wasn’t too long before Daddy’s flying bug really kicked in. There was a need for a local crop-duster and Daddy was just such the dare-devil to do the job. He and Mom had their flying service for 40 years. And for half of those 40 years I woke up to the sounds of Piper or Cessna or Ag-Cat engines roaring down the runway into the wild blue yonder. Daddy had a distinctive way of flying and his plane always sounded different from the rest. I could spot his flying technique a mile away. Flying those planes was my Dads’ talent. He was a Master at it and there will never be another one like him. He always told me that the average life a crop duster was pretty short and he did cheat death on several occasions in plane crashes. At the end of his colorful life it was a heart attack that grounded him and took him from us. This is the time of year that I really miss him; every time I hear a crop duster, I still look for him.
Calling all Cancer Survivors! The 2008 Relay for Life Committee is looking for you. We know there are still many more Survivors out in Calhoun that we have never heard about. Please tell us who you are and help form a second Survivors team. If you are a Survivor or you know someone who is please contact Barbara Winter at Money Connection in Bruce or Kay Barefield in Bruce at BankCorp South. Show your Purple Pride and let everyone know that you beat Cancer.
Let me tell you about my little buddy Casey Vance. Casey was in a pretty bad accident a few months back and badly injured his leg. He is not out of the woods yet and is in a battle to try and save his leg. This is one strong little boy, folks. I have never seen such determination. I designed a t-shirt for him to help raise money to offset the mounting bills. Its an Eagle rising into the sky with the Scripture, ‘They will soar on wings like eagles…they will run and not grown weary…’ Is.40:31. Please help Casey and buy one of his t-shirts. Penny Nelson at Bruce Insurance is the contact person.
Vonda Keon can be reached at vondak8753@yahoo.com
When we moved to Mississippi in 1959, it wasn’t too long before Daddy’s flying bug really kicked in. There was a need for a local crop-duster and Daddy was just such the dare-devil to do the job. He and Mom had their flying service for 40 years. And for half of those 40 years I woke up to the sounds of Piper or Cessna or Ag-Cat engines roaring down the runway into the wild blue yonder. Daddy had a distinctive way of flying and his plane always sounded different from the rest. I could spot his flying technique a mile away. Flying those planes was my Dads’ talent. He was a Master at it and there will never be another one like him. He always told me that the average life a crop duster was pretty short and he did cheat death on several occasions in plane crashes. At the end of his colorful life it was a heart attack that grounded him and took him from us. This is the time of year that I really miss him; every time I hear a crop duster, I still look for him.
Calling all Cancer Survivors! The 2008 Relay for Life Committee is looking for you. We know there are still many more Survivors out in Calhoun that we have never heard about. Please tell us who you are and help form a second Survivors team. If you are a Survivor or you know someone who is please contact Barbara Winter at Money Connection in Bruce or Kay Barefield in Bruce at BankCorp South. Show your Purple Pride and let everyone know that you beat Cancer.
Let me tell you about my little buddy Casey Vance. Casey was in a pretty bad accident a few months back and badly injured his leg. He is not out of the woods yet and is in a battle to try and save his leg. This is one strong little boy, folks. I have never seen such determination. I designed a t-shirt for him to help raise money to offset the mounting bills. Its an Eagle rising into the sky with the Scripture, ‘They will soar on wings like eagles…they will run and not grown weary…’ Is.40:31. Please help Casey and buy one of his t-shirts. Penny Nelson at Bruce Insurance is the contact person.
Vonda Keon can be reached at vondak8753@yahoo.com
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
The Tapestry of my Life/Last Week!!
Do you remember that old Carole King song about Tapestry?
“My life has been a tapestry of rich and royal hue,
An everlasting vision, an ever changing view”
Sometimes my ‘Tapestry’ seems to be stuck on the spinning wheel! My ‘engine’ has been at full throttle this week and I don’t know exactly if I have moved a smidgin. Take Monday of last week; I went to Oxford to do some temp work for a doctors office that had gotten behind on their transcription. I put my headset on, clicked the pedal and started typing stopping only to go to the restroom and to eat a quick lunch. By 4:30 I had listened to 7 days of patients and had gotten them caught up. What they thought was going to take a week took me one day. Oops, I worked too fast! Is that a bad thing?
Tuesday I loaded the whale with the ad kits I would need for some of the stores that I do merchandising in. I had to make a stop at the post office and when I pulled out I realized the whale wasn’t maneuvering like it should. It was a bit mushy on the passenger side, so I drove over to True Value and got my cousin Rodney to check the tire. It had a good sized nail in it. That sidelined me for the rest of that day.
Wednesday morning I woke up and my feet hit the floor running. I had to get the work that I was supposed to do on Tuesday finished as well as do the Wednesday work also. I started out in Bruce, then Calhoun City, on to Vardaman then Houston with a jog left to Houlka and then finished my stores in Pontotoc at 7:30 that evening. I saw a lot of deer and they all saw me. Deer in the headlights is not something I like to see. Been there, done that and whacked that doe to the tune of too many dollars I didn’t want to spend. Thank the Lord for my deer whistles.
Thursday was spent cleaning house and attempting to reorganize. I have stacks of papers I need to grade, worked on my own essay for my theology course, and had a couple of meetings to attend to some pressing matters. My oldest daughter needed to go to Tupelo to get Pointe shoes for ballet so that was added to my agenda and I had a couple of little store audits to do at Barns Crossing. While she was getting fitted for the Pointe shoes I was checking out the home made fudge they offered in the shoe store. If you go to Tupelo, stop at The Corner Shoe Store and buy a block of that fudge. I rate it in the top 100 things to eat before you die. It is THAT divinely delicious. We arrived back home and just missed packing the boxes for the food pantry.
Friday found me in Caledonia doing what I fondly like to refer to as clean up. I had to go and complete the work that someone else had promised to do and then pulled a ‘George Jones’. You know what that is. They never showed up! Finding Caledonia was a trick all by itself. Map quest was pretty bizarre in its routing. It first took me down to Eupora and across at Starkville and then up at Columbus. I knew that was not right so I chose the alternative route. It was going to take me down every back country road and then some to get me there. I finally just opted for pointing my nose toward Aberdeen and watching for road signs and I did finally get there. I do want to go back that way and check out the house with the 4 huge gargoyles at their gate. There has got to be a story behind those. Can you imagine giving directions to your home and telling people to look for the four 6 foot tall gargoyles at the entrance of your drive way. Then you must slowly travel down the dark tree lined curving drive to find what? I’m telling you it was something out of a gothic novel.
Saturday was Food Pantry day and I was out there marking off names. I didn’t have to use my ice pack this time because the sun was hidden behind those rain clouds. We handed out 190 boxes in an hour! I came home to figure out what I fondly refer to as the sadistics. I really hate to figure out percentages but I have to crunch the numbers to send in to the state and the different churches that are affiliated with the pantry like to know the numbers too. By 3PM my brain was screaming for a nap and I gave in. The sofa in my living room is the perfect napping spot. I think I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.
Sunday, after church I gathered my books and papers and the girls accompanied me to Tupelo where I go and meet up with the other 19 people that are working on graduating with that Masters degree in theology next May. We worked on a paper about the Tapestry of our life. I can tell you right now, my tapestry looks like a crazy quilt. Just like the past week does. All over the place, going full speed and sometimes it seems like I’m not moving an inch!
“My life has been a tapestry of rich and royal hue,
An everlasting vision, an ever changing view”
Sometimes my ‘Tapestry’ seems to be stuck on the spinning wheel! My ‘engine’ has been at full throttle this week and I don’t know exactly if I have moved a smidgin. Take Monday of last week; I went to Oxford to do some temp work for a doctors office that had gotten behind on their transcription. I put my headset on, clicked the pedal and started typing stopping only to go to the restroom and to eat a quick lunch. By 4:30 I had listened to 7 days of patients and had gotten them caught up. What they thought was going to take a week took me one day. Oops, I worked too fast! Is that a bad thing?
Tuesday I loaded the whale with the ad kits I would need for some of the stores that I do merchandising in. I had to make a stop at the post office and when I pulled out I realized the whale wasn’t maneuvering like it should. It was a bit mushy on the passenger side, so I drove over to True Value and got my cousin Rodney to check the tire. It had a good sized nail in it. That sidelined me for the rest of that day.
Wednesday morning I woke up and my feet hit the floor running. I had to get the work that I was supposed to do on Tuesday finished as well as do the Wednesday work also. I started out in Bruce, then Calhoun City, on to Vardaman then Houston with a jog left to Houlka and then finished my stores in Pontotoc at 7:30 that evening. I saw a lot of deer and they all saw me. Deer in the headlights is not something I like to see. Been there, done that and whacked that doe to the tune of too many dollars I didn’t want to spend. Thank the Lord for my deer whistles.
Thursday was spent cleaning house and attempting to reorganize. I have stacks of papers I need to grade, worked on my own essay for my theology course, and had a couple of meetings to attend to some pressing matters. My oldest daughter needed to go to Tupelo to get Pointe shoes for ballet so that was added to my agenda and I had a couple of little store audits to do at Barns Crossing. While she was getting fitted for the Pointe shoes I was checking out the home made fudge they offered in the shoe store. If you go to Tupelo, stop at The Corner Shoe Store and buy a block of that fudge. I rate it in the top 100 things to eat before you die. It is THAT divinely delicious. We arrived back home and just missed packing the boxes for the food pantry.
Friday found me in Caledonia doing what I fondly like to refer to as clean up. I had to go and complete the work that someone else had promised to do and then pulled a ‘George Jones’. You know what that is. They never showed up! Finding Caledonia was a trick all by itself. Map quest was pretty bizarre in its routing. It first took me down to Eupora and across at Starkville and then up at Columbus. I knew that was not right so I chose the alternative route. It was going to take me down every back country road and then some to get me there. I finally just opted for pointing my nose toward Aberdeen and watching for road signs and I did finally get there. I do want to go back that way and check out the house with the 4 huge gargoyles at their gate. There has got to be a story behind those. Can you imagine giving directions to your home and telling people to look for the four 6 foot tall gargoyles at the entrance of your drive way. Then you must slowly travel down the dark tree lined curving drive to find what? I’m telling you it was something out of a gothic novel.
Saturday was Food Pantry day and I was out there marking off names. I didn’t have to use my ice pack this time because the sun was hidden behind those rain clouds. We handed out 190 boxes in an hour! I came home to figure out what I fondly refer to as the sadistics. I really hate to figure out percentages but I have to crunch the numbers to send in to the state and the different churches that are affiliated with the pantry like to know the numbers too. By 3PM my brain was screaming for a nap and I gave in. The sofa in my living room is the perfect napping spot. I think I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.
Sunday, after church I gathered my books and papers and the girls accompanied me to Tupelo where I go and meet up with the other 19 people that are working on graduating with that Masters degree in theology next May. We worked on a paper about the Tapestry of our life. I can tell you right now, my tapestry looks like a crazy quilt. Just like the past week does. All over the place, going full speed and sometimes it seems like I’m not moving an inch!
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Shades of Gray
Blogging from East Bruce
Vonda Tedford-Keon
I finished yet another course paper and sent it off to my adjunct professor to grade. Working on a masters certificate in theology has been one long journey. The end is in sight though. I should be finished by May of 2008. It has been a time of spiritual growth and a lot of spiritual reflection. When I was an undergraduate student in the early 70’s at MUW, writing a paper usually consisted of regurgitating facts and making sure I didn’t plagiarize any information. There was a title page and then the body of the paper consisting of all the facts that I had learned; the citations and the endless ibid. It was all done on an old manual typewriter because there was no such thing as a word processor or desktop computer. Ahh the ‘good old days’ when things was actually black or white.
Now I have a computer and Word program to help me along so the paper writing is much easier. It’s just getting the content right that I am concerned with now. Now all of my papers are ‘reflection papers’. Those are the hardest kind of papers to write. It seems like just yesterday that I was young and life was so simple. I went off to college during the time of Viet Nam. I had friends that were drafted and many that sat in front of the TV during the nights that the lottery was pulling up the numbers, just praying that their number didn’t come up. It was easy to tell right from wrong and weak from strong. Things were actually black or white.
Growing up insulated by our rural community we never really lived with doubt or tasted fear. In our innocence and naivety, the answers always seemed so clear. We knew when a man should stand fight or just go along with the crowd. It was easy to know what was fair, what to keep and when to share. There were clues to tell you when someone was telling the truth or telling you lies. People didn’t sell out, they would find a compromise.
We were taught how to tell the foolish from the wise, and how to protect our hearts. We really cared about people then. Every thing was pretty much cut and dried. We went to church and learned our morals from the Gospels. Our parents punished us when we did something wrong. We surely didn’t sass our parents and live to laugh about it to our friends. Things were actually black or white
I look around today, and I see things that sadden me. What used to be cut and dried is no longer. What used to be simple is now complicated. What used to be fair is now unfair.
Today there is no day or night; today nothing is black or white. Now there are just gray areas. Only shades of gray. How sad.
Vonda Tedford-Keon
I finished yet another course paper and sent it off to my adjunct professor to grade. Working on a masters certificate in theology has been one long journey. The end is in sight though. I should be finished by May of 2008. It has been a time of spiritual growth and a lot of spiritual reflection. When I was an undergraduate student in the early 70’s at MUW, writing a paper usually consisted of regurgitating facts and making sure I didn’t plagiarize any information. There was a title page and then the body of the paper consisting of all the facts that I had learned; the citations and the endless ibid. It was all done on an old manual typewriter because there was no such thing as a word processor or desktop computer. Ahh the ‘good old days’ when things was actually black or white.
Now I have a computer and Word program to help me along so the paper writing is much easier. It’s just getting the content right that I am concerned with now. Now all of my papers are ‘reflection papers’. Those are the hardest kind of papers to write. It seems like just yesterday that I was young and life was so simple. I went off to college during the time of Viet Nam. I had friends that were drafted and many that sat in front of the TV during the nights that the lottery was pulling up the numbers, just praying that their number didn’t come up. It was easy to tell right from wrong and weak from strong. Things were actually black or white.
Growing up insulated by our rural community we never really lived with doubt or tasted fear. In our innocence and naivety, the answers always seemed so clear. We knew when a man should stand fight or just go along with the crowd. It was easy to know what was fair, what to keep and when to share. There were clues to tell you when someone was telling the truth or telling you lies. People didn’t sell out, they would find a compromise.
We were taught how to tell the foolish from the wise, and how to protect our hearts. We really cared about people then. Every thing was pretty much cut and dried. We went to church and learned our morals from the Gospels. Our parents punished us when we did something wrong. We surely didn’t sass our parents and live to laugh about it to our friends. Things were actually black or white
I look around today, and I see things that sadden me. What used to be cut and dried is no longer. What used to be simple is now complicated. What used to be fair is now unfair.
Today there is no day or night; today nothing is black or white. Now there are just gray areas. Only shades of gray. How sad.
Monday, September 03, 2007
Mini Vacation to the Dismals in Alabama Part 1
Not that I long for the ‘good old days’ but there are just some things that we should all hang on to, such as traveling for little short trips with the family. When I was growing up Daddy was always spraying the cotton fields from early spring till fall so it was up to Mom to take me and my sister for little mini vacations during the summer months.
With the Labor Day long weekend looming, my husband and I decided to take our daughters for a short jaunt over into Alabama to a few choice places. Our oldest daughter plans on majoring in History so she requested places that have historical significance.
Getting into the big white people mover is like crawling into a time warp because of the music I like to listen to. An eclectic mix of tunes from the 50’s to the 80’s are pretty much what any traveling hostage has to listen to when traveling with me. We loaded the van with our bags and a cooler of bottled water plus an extra cooler for food as we wanted to picnic as much as we could. A quick trip to the grocery for fresh fruit and veggies and all the sandwich fixins’ and ice was all we needed to get started on our weekend adventure.
Our first stop was The Dismals located near Hamilton and Phil Campbell. The Dismals is a privately owned geological landmark where you step back in time when the earth was clean and water ran clear. The area is not commercially developed or cheesy. It’s a 1.5 mile nature trail down in a sandstone canyon and despite the "dismal" sounding name, this canyon offers a quiet and unspoiled oasis as Alabama’s last secret hiding place. It's a place of seclusion far off the beaten path with steep moss-covered rock walls, waterfalls, an icy stream, and flora and fauna indigenous to it alone. It's a place shrouded in mystery and in history. There are no flies or mosquitoes or poison ivy. There are trees growing deep in that canyon that are over 350 years old.
We hiked the Dismals for nearly 3 hours and then left to go and see the Natural Bridge. It’s a 148 foot span of sandstone and iron ore that rises 60 ft. off the floor of the forest below. It is truly a wonder of God’s creation. The winding hiking paths took us up and down some pretty rugged terrain and we all decided that we needed to be part mountain goat. Ferns were growing out of crevices in the huge boulders and on the sheer canyon walls. It started raining and we just kept hiking. The sound of the rain coming through the leaves was soothing. We really didn’t mind getting wet. The Natural Bridge is privately owned and the owners have left this area as unspoiled and untouched as possible. Its truly a nature conservatory.
Before heading back to the Dismals for the night hike to see the Dismalites we stopped for dinner at the A&W. Now that was a real step back into time. The little diner was so 1950’s and 60’s. We washed our burgers and fries down with real draught root beer floats served up in frosty glass mugs that A & W is so famous for. We returned to Dismals and sat and waited for darkness so we could go back down into the canyon to see the real stars of the Dismals. Dismalites are the glowing worms that infest the canyon walls. These have been known to swarm forth and skeletonize unsuspecting hikers in seconds. Just joking, of course. The worms only eat the brains of their victims.
No, really, there are glowing worms in the Dismals, though they're actually harmless (as far as we know). The worms are colloquially known as the "Dismalites," and they only exist in a couple of other pockets on the planet, and nowhere else in North America. "Dismalite" is a much better moniker than the critter's actual name, which is "fungus gnat" (or Arachnocampa luminosa). The tiny worms are the larval stage of the gnat, and they glow in order to attract other mites and flies to capture and eat.
Darkness fell out there in the Alabama woods and our tour guide David appeared. He was this tall burly stereotypical biker type of guy with lots of tattoos on his arms and a skull and crossbones do-rag on his head along with the black jeans and muscle t-shirt. He took the first group down the path to the caves where the little worms were. We were in the second group. It was hard enough in the day light negotiating the rough twisting and turn paths, now I was doing it with a flash light! We made our way to the caves and turned off the flash lights and the mossy walls started glowing. There were little points of bluish light here and there like little stars in the black night sky. I could not help but think about the Native Americans that used to live within those stone caves and what they must have thought the first time they saw those little points of light.
We made it back to our motel room in Hamilton after 10pm and we were all very tired. My legs were aching from all the climbing and hiking. As a family we had a great first day of a mini-vacation. We learned a lot of interesting historical facts, heard a lot of folk lore that was based on fact and most of all we learned that Nature can live without man but man cannot live without nature.
You can contact me at hallowed_grounds2633@yahoo.com.
With the Labor Day long weekend looming, my husband and I decided to take our daughters for a short jaunt over into Alabama to a few choice places. Our oldest daughter plans on majoring in History so she requested places that have historical significance.
Getting into the big white people mover is like crawling into a time warp because of the music I like to listen to. An eclectic mix of tunes from the 50’s to the 80’s are pretty much what any traveling hostage has to listen to when traveling with me. We loaded the van with our bags and a cooler of bottled water plus an extra cooler for food as we wanted to picnic as much as we could. A quick trip to the grocery for fresh fruit and veggies and all the sandwich fixins’ and ice was all we needed to get started on our weekend adventure.
Our first stop was The Dismals located near Hamilton and Phil Campbell. The Dismals is a privately owned geological landmark where you step back in time when the earth was clean and water ran clear. The area is not commercially developed or cheesy. It’s a 1.5 mile nature trail down in a sandstone canyon and despite the "dismal" sounding name, this canyon offers a quiet and unspoiled oasis as Alabama’s last secret hiding place. It's a place of seclusion far off the beaten path with steep moss-covered rock walls, waterfalls, an icy stream, and flora and fauna indigenous to it alone. It's a place shrouded in mystery and in history. There are no flies or mosquitoes or poison ivy. There are trees growing deep in that canyon that are over 350 years old.
We hiked the Dismals for nearly 3 hours and then left to go and see the Natural Bridge. It’s a 148 foot span of sandstone and iron ore that rises 60 ft. off the floor of the forest below. It is truly a wonder of God’s creation. The winding hiking paths took us up and down some pretty rugged terrain and we all decided that we needed to be part mountain goat. Ferns were growing out of crevices in the huge boulders and on the sheer canyon walls. It started raining and we just kept hiking. The sound of the rain coming through the leaves was soothing. We really didn’t mind getting wet. The Natural Bridge is privately owned and the owners have left this area as unspoiled and untouched as possible. Its truly a nature conservatory.
Before heading back to the Dismals for the night hike to see the Dismalites we stopped for dinner at the A&W. Now that was a real step back into time. The little diner was so 1950’s and 60’s. We washed our burgers and fries down with real draught root beer floats served up in frosty glass mugs that A & W is so famous for. We returned to Dismals and sat and waited for darkness so we could go back down into the canyon to see the real stars of the Dismals. Dismalites are the glowing worms that infest the canyon walls. These have been known to swarm forth and skeletonize unsuspecting hikers in seconds. Just joking, of course. The worms only eat the brains of their victims.
No, really, there are glowing worms in the Dismals, though they're actually harmless (as far as we know). The worms are colloquially known as the "Dismalites," and they only exist in a couple of other pockets on the planet, and nowhere else in North America. "Dismalite" is a much better moniker than the critter's actual name, which is "fungus gnat" (or Arachnocampa luminosa). The tiny worms are the larval stage of the gnat, and they glow in order to attract other mites and flies to capture and eat.
Darkness fell out there in the Alabama woods and our tour guide David appeared. He was this tall burly stereotypical biker type of guy with lots of tattoos on his arms and a skull and crossbones do-rag on his head along with the black jeans and muscle t-shirt. He took the first group down the path to the caves where the little worms were. We were in the second group. It was hard enough in the day light negotiating the rough twisting and turn paths, now I was doing it with a flash light! We made our way to the caves and turned off the flash lights and the mossy walls started glowing. There were little points of bluish light here and there like little stars in the black night sky. I could not help but think about the Native Americans that used to live within those stone caves and what they must have thought the first time they saw those little points of light.
We made it back to our motel room in Hamilton after 10pm and we were all very tired. My legs were aching from all the climbing and hiking. As a family we had a great first day of a mini-vacation. We learned a lot of interesting historical facts, heard a lot of folk lore that was based on fact and most of all we learned that Nature can live without man but man cannot live without nature.
You can contact me at hallowed_grounds2633@yahoo.com.
Monday, August 20, 2007
It has been a year since my grandmother called my name.
For 14 nights I sat by her side, talking to her and reading to her and singing. The nurses kept telling me she couldn’t hear me but I would see a tear roll down her soft wrinkled cheek every so often when I would read something I knew she liked. I was there when she drew her last breath. Let me tell you about my grandmother, Earlene Brown Tedford Alexander.
There will never be another Earlene. If ever there was a woman that was proud as a peacock, that would be Earlene. She was always dressed up. When other grandmothers would put on some tennis shoes or other type of sensible shoe, here would come my Mamaw, trotting out in her pumps with that purse slung on that arm. It’s a wonder in all of her 92 years that she didn’t fall and break a bone. The only bone that I do know that she broke was when she hugged one of her nephews a bit too hard and she popped a rib. I thought it was a freak thing that happened until the same thing happened to me a few years later!
My memories of Mamaw are varied. She could make a mean chocolate ‘gravy’ for my breakfast biscuit.
She always doubled up on my name. Vonda Anne always came out as VonDan. I can hear her saying it now. ‘VonDan!, come here and give Mamaw a hug.’. Then it was time for THE KISS. There was never an escape. You were going to get THE KISS.
Through the years I would go and see Mamaw and eat with her. She would make some homemade tomato soup so loaded with hot chow-chow, that you would need a fire extinguisher to cool you down. I could not drink enough tea to cool that heat. Years later she tried to remember her recipe but age had taken that memory.
In the last few years of her life I would go and get her and she would sit and help me peel cucumbers to make pickles or peel tomatoes for canning. Then she would fuss at me and tell me I ought to be ashamed of myself for making an old woman work like that. She didn’t turn down those pickles when they were ready to eat though. “VonDan! Bring me a jar of those pickle we made.”
A few days before she died, she told me she just wasn’t hungry anymore. When I asked her what she thought would taste good, she smiled at me and said a banana split would hit the spot. The next day I packed my cooler full of ice and made a trip to the Sonic and bought a banana split. I took it to the nursing home and when I walked in her room, she was lying on her bed taking a nap. I set the dish on the table and called her name. When she opened those blue eyes and saw that banana split she sat up and clapped her hands. “Ooo! VonDan! I can’t eat that whole thing!” I produced two spoons and we attacked that ice cream like a couple of little kids. She smacked her lips and ate that ice cream with relish. She looked at me and grinned and let out the most unladylike belch! We had the best visit over that one banana split.
When I left her that afternoon, she pointed to the red hat I had given her for her birthday. She had called me one afternoon and told me about a ‘hat contest’ at the nursing home. She wanted to win it more than anything. “VonDan, can you find me a hat? I want a fancy one so I can win this contest.” So I found her a red hat with feathers. She won and she was so proud of that hat. She told me to take it home because she wasn’t going to get to wear it again. She wasn’t going to take no for an answer so I left with the hat.
I can still see her sitting there, head cocked to one side, snow white hair and those ice blue eyes magnified by her glasses, smiling at me. “VonDan, when are you coming back to see me?” Tomorrow Mamaw. I’ll be back tomorrow. She slipped into a coma that night.
It’s been a year since my grandmother said my name.
For 14 nights I sat by her side, talking to her and reading to her and singing. The nurses kept telling me she couldn’t hear me but I would see a tear roll down her soft wrinkled cheek every so often when I would read something I knew she liked. I was there when she drew her last breath. Let me tell you about my grandmother, Earlene Brown Tedford Alexander.
There will never be another Earlene. If ever there was a woman that was proud as a peacock, that would be Earlene. She was always dressed up. When other grandmothers would put on some tennis shoes or other type of sensible shoe, here would come my Mamaw, trotting out in her pumps with that purse slung on that arm. It’s a wonder in all of her 92 years that she didn’t fall and break a bone. The only bone that I do know that she broke was when she hugged one of her nephews a bit too hard and she popped a rib. I thought it was a freak thing that happened until the same thing happened to me a few years later!
My memories of Mamaw are varied. She could make a mean chocolate ‘gravy’ for my breakfast biscuit.
She always doubled up on my name. Vonda Anne always came out as VonDan. I can hear her saying it now. ‘VonDan!, come here and give Mamaw a hug.’. Then it was time for THE KISS. There was never an escape. You were going to get THE KISS.
Through the years I would go and see Mamaw and eat with her. She would make some homemade tomato soup so loaded with hot chow-chow, that you would need a fire extinguisher to cool you down. I could not drink enough tea to cool that heat. Years later she tried to remember her recipe but age had taken that memory.
In the last few years of her life I would go and get her and she would sit and help me peel cucumbers to make pickles or peel tomatoes for canning. Then she would fuss at me and tell me I ought to be ashamed of myself for making an old woman work like that. She didn’t turn down those pickles when they were ready to eat though. “VonDan! Bring me a jar of those pickle we made.”
A few days before she died, she told me she just wasn’t hungry anymore. When I asked her what she thought would taste good, she smiled at me and said a banana split would hit the spot. The next day I packed my cooler full of ice and made a trip to the Sonic and bought a banana split. I took it to the nursing home and when I walked in her room, she was lying on her bed taking a nap. I set the dish on the table and called her name. When she opened those blue eyes and saw that banana split she sat up and clapped her hands. “Ooo! VonDan! I can’t eat that whole thing!” I produced two spoons and we attacked that ice cream like a couple of little kids. She smacked her lips and ate that ice cream with relish. She looked at me and grinned and let out the most unladylike belch! We had the best visit over that one banana split.
When I left her that afternoon, she pointed to the red hat I had given her for her birthday. She had called me one afternoon and told me about a ‘hat contest’ at the nursing home. She wanted to win it more than anything. “VonDan, can you find me a hat? I want a fancy one so I can win this contest.” So I found her a red hat with feathers. She won and she was so proud of that hat. She told me to take it home because she wasn’t going to get to wear it again. She wasn’t going to take no for an answer so I left with the hat.
I can still see her sitting there, head cocked to one side, snow white hair and those ice blue eyes magnified by her glasses, smiling at me. “VonDan, when are you coming back to see me?” Tomorrow Mamaw. I’ll be back tomorrow. She slipped into a coma that night.
It’s been a year since my grandmother said my name.
Hummingbirds
I marvel at God’s creation on a daily basis. Hummingbirds are just an example of God’s work that is truly a wonder. I don’t have a birdfeeder but my neighbors do and those little balls of fluff are really buzzing at the moment. Mom and I have a lot of Lantana that is in full bloom now and those flowers are just covered with the hummers as they are getting ready for the big migration south.
In preparation for the big migration, they make sure they pack themselves full of nectar and insects. Those small birds have to be strong to make such a long flight. Even though hummingbirds are tiny, they have huge appetites. Hummingbirds consume between 3.14 and 7.6 calories a day. That may not seem like much, but if humans (who may eat 3,500 calories a day) had the metabolism of a hummingbird, they would have to consume approximately 155,000 calories a day. That’s about 77 times as much as most humans eat! The hummingbirds’ need for lots of calories is because of their high heart rate and small body size.
Also, when hummingbirds make this incredible journey, they prefer to travel alone. Unlike geese or ducks, traveling in large groups doesn’t increase their chances of survival. Only one bird can feed off of a flower at a time, so waiting for every bird to feed would be a hassle and waste precious time. Also, hummingbirds are so small that predators usually ignore them, so traveling in large groups offers no extra protection. Just because hummers travel alone, however, does not mean that you will not see more than one hummingbird at a time; after all, several may be traveling at the same time and cross paths on their journeys.
They typically travel during the day and rest up at night, except in special situations like that of the ruby-throated hummingbird, which travels over the Gulf of Mexico. It takes more than one day for them to make it across, so the birds must fly through the night until land is reached. Their journey from North America to Mexico typically takes them 2 weeks.
A couple of years ago I was going through ‘painters block’. That is sort of like writers block only with a paint brush. I wanted to paint but nothing was grabbing my attention. I was watching a huge garden spider repairing its amazing web when suddenly a ruby throated hummer flew right into the center of it. It was no match for the web and got all tangled in it. As it struggled to fly with the sticky web coating its feathers it crashed into the side of my house and fell right below the clothes dryer vent. The poor little thing was now covered in dryer lint. It was trying to fly and losing the battle. I then noticed Duchess, my old queen cat, crouching into her predator stance. I was not about to have that little guy become lunch for the kitty so I went over and gently picked him up praying the whole time that he would not peck me.
It was like picking up a cotton ball. He looked at me with his little black eyes and I was looking at that wicked sharp beak. I just knew that I was going to be stabbed. My daughter Erin ran and got some sugar water as I gently pulled the spider’s web off of him and picked the lint off his little body. I dipped my finger in it and held a drop of it in front of his beak and he licked it off! As soon as I finished cleaning him, he jumped on my arm and hopped up to my shoulder. There he sat while I held the sugar water up and he lapped it up. Then he hummed for me! Suddenly he flew away into the trees and then turned around and came back and hovered in my face and hummed again. I think he was saying thank you. At any rate, I went to my drawing board and started drawing hummingbirds. I created several paintings over the next few days of tiny ruby throated hummers. It has become my second favorite bird to draw.
I still sit outside early in the morning before the heat gets to me and watch the hummers as they flit about and every now and then one will hover in my face and hum. I have to wonder if it is the same one that I saved that day. He was sent to me to inspire me to paint. God’s inspiration can be found anywhere one looks; it’s even in spider webs and hummingbirds
In preparation for the big migration, they make sure they pack themselves full of nectar and insects. Those small birds have to be strong to make such a long flight. Even though hummingbirds are tiny, they have huge appetites. Hummingbirds consume between 3.14 and 7.6 calories a day. That may not seem like much, but if humans (who may eat 3,500 calories a day) had the metabolism of a hummingbird, they would have to consume approximately 155,000 calories a day. That’s about 77 times as much as most humans eat! The hummingbirds’ need for lots of calories is because of their high heart rate and small body size.
Also, when hummingbirds make this incredible journey, they prefer to travel alone. Unlike geese or ducks, traveling in large groups doesn’t increase their chances of survival. Only one bird can feed off of a flower at a time, so waiting for every bird to feed would be a hassle and waste precious time. Also, hummingbirds are so small that predators usually ignore them, so traveling in large groups offers no extra protection. Just because hummers travel alone, however, does not mean that you will not see more than one hummingbird at a time; after all, several may be traveling at the same time and cross paths on their journeys.
They typically travel during the day and rest up at night, except in special situations like that of the ruby-throated hummingbird, which travels over the Gulf of Mexico. It takes more than one day for them to make it across, so the birds must fly through the night until land is reached. Their journey from North America to Mexico typically takes them 2 weeks.
A couple of years ago I was going through ‘painters block’. That is sort of like writers block only with a paint brush. I wanted to paint but nothing was grabbing my attention. I was watching a huge garden spider repairing its amazing web when suddenly a ruby throated hummer flew right into the center of it. It was no match for the web and got all tangled in it. As it struggled to fly with the sticky web coating its feathers it crashed into the side of my house and fell right below the clothes dryer vent. The poor little thing was now covered in dryer lint. It was trying to fly and losing the battle. I then noticed Duchess, my old queen cat, crouching into her predator stance. I was not about to have that little guy become lunch for the kitty so I went over and gently picked him up praying the whole time that he would not peck me.
It was like picking up a cotton ball. He looked at me with his little black eyes and I was looking at that wicked sharp beak. I just knew that I was going to be stabbed. My daughter Erin ran and got some sugar water as I gently pulled the spider’s web off of him and picked the lint off his little body. I dipped my finger in it and held a drop of it in front of his beak and he licked it off! As soon as I finished cleaning him, he jumped on my arm and hopped up to my shoulder. There he sat while I held the sugar water up and he lapped it up. Then he hummed for me! Suddenly he flew away into the trees and then turned around and came back and hovered in my face and hummed again. I think he was saying thank you. At any rate, I went to my drawing board and started drawing hummingbirds. I created several paintings over the next few days of tiny ruby throated hummers. It has become my second favorite bird to draw.
I still sit outside early in the morning before the heat gets to me and watch the hummers as they flit about and every now and then one will hover in my face and hum. I have to wonder if it is the same one that I saved that day. He was sent to me to inspire me to paint. God’s inspiration can be found anywhere one looks; it’s even in spider webs and hummingbirds
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Blogging about tea
Blogging from East Bruce
With apologies to Daniel D. Emment who wrote Dixie land in 1859 for a minstrel show as a joke
Oh I wish I lived in the land of Lipton, sweet iced tea is always ready,
Drink it up, drink it up, drink it up Lipton tea!
When a Southerner leaves our little universe, we discover the awful truth about the world outside of dear old Dixie.
You can’t find a proper glass of sweet iced tea! You might order a glass of sweet of tea but chances are what you get will not even resemble that sweet concoction that we were all weaned on. Tea in any other part of the world is not the same. The other evening I was squalling through Steele Magnolias for the umpteenth time and Dolly Parton’s character Truvey called those glasses of sweet tea she was serving “the house wine of the South”. And she wasn’t woofing.
Drinking sweet iced tea is one of the most traditional things about a Southern meal. There is an art to brewing that clear orangey reddish liquid we cherish so much; seven or eight of the small tea bags have hot (not quite boiling) water poured on them along with a cup plus a smidgin more of sugar. Then when it reaches just the right color its diluted to the one and only gallon pitcher whose only purpose in life is to pour the nectar of the gods into a tall glass that is packed full of crystal clear ice.
In the south when we say sweet tea, we mean sweet . I read somewhere (don’t try and pin me down where, I read a lot of stuff!) that Southern sweet tea is twice as sweet as a can of ‘Co-Cola’. I find that hard to believe but there are some ‘nutritional scientists’ out there that swear it’s so. But hey, look at the other sweet stuff we love to eat! We Southerners have a hankering for pecan pie and pralines and sweet potato pie and sweet potato compote, and mint juleps. Oops, did I say Mint Juleps?! Why shut my mouth! Now there’s a classic Southern cocktail if you consider Kentucky as southern too.
Maybe our fascination with sweet tea is with the ice. After all it does get hotter than blue blazes down here and there is nothing more refreshing and hospitable than sweet tea poured over ice. I love to hear the ice crackle as the warm sweet tea pours over it. I smack my lips in anticipation of the sweet treat! And don’t go and try and to sneak in instant tea and pass it off as the real deal. A true Southerner can tell the difference. Tea does not have foam on the top!
My oldest daughter Ariel and I had the opportunity to travel to Washington DC a couple of summers ago. She attended a youth leadership conference and I was taking summer classes at Washington Theological Union. For two weeks she and I attended our classes and communicated each evening by cell phone. As we would recount the days events the one common thing that we both noted was, we were starving. Both of us were longing for good ole white Wonder Bread and a tall glass of sweet iced tea. Oh, I could order the tea and get a glass of tea with a few cubes of ice in it and pack of sugar. That was not going to cut it. The little deli I ate at daily finally took pity on me. They called me Mississippi. ‘Hey Mississippi! Show us how you make tea way down there in the South.” So I did. I showed them how to pack that glass full of ice and just how sweet tea should be and how make a proper tomato sandwich. As they sampled my humble creations I saw them smile. The next day as I headed toward the metro for my trip into the city I noticed a new sign on their menu. New Items! Southern Sweet Iced tea and Tomato Sandwiches. Food and Sweet tea….the universal language.
With apologies to Daniel D. Emment who wrote Dixie land in 1859 for a minstrel show as a joke
Oh I wish I lived in the land of Lipton, sweet iced tea is always ready,
Drink it up, drink it up, drink it up Lipton tea!
When a Southerner leaves our little universe, we discover the awful truth about the world outside of dear old Dixie.
You can’t find a proper glass of sweet iced tea! You might order a glass of sweet of tea but chances are what you get will not even resemble that sweet concoction that we were all weaned on. Tea in any other part of the world is not the same. The other evening I was squalling through Steele Magnolias for the umpteenth time and Dolly Parton’s character Truvey called those glasses of sweet tea she was serving “the house wine of the South”. And she wasn’t woofing.
Drinking sweet iced tea is one of the most traditional things about a Southern meal. There is an art to brewing that clear orangey reddish liquid we cherish so much; seven or eight of the small tea bags have hot (not quite boiling) water poured on them along with a cup plus a smidgin more of sugar. Then when it reaches just the right color its diluted to the one and only gallon pitcher whose only purpose in life is to pour the nectar of the gods into a tall glass that is packed full of crystal clear ice.
In the south when we say sweet tea, we mean sweet . I read somewhere (don’t try and pin me down where, I read a lot of stuff!) that Southern sweet tea is twice as sweet as a can of ‘Co-Cola’. I find that hard to believe but there are some ‘nutritional scientists’ out there that swear it’s so. But hey, look at the other sweet stuff we love to eat! We Southerners have a hankering for pecan pie and pralines and sweet potato pie and sweet potato compote, and mint juleps. Oops, did I say Mint Juleps?! Why shut my mouth! Now there’s a classic Southern cocktail if you consider Kentucky as southern too.
Maybe our fascination with sweet tea is with the ice. After all it does get hotter than blue blazes down here and there is nothing more refreshing and hospitable than sweet tea poured over ice. I love to hear the ice crackle as the warm sweet tea pours over it. I smack my lips in anticipation of the sweet treat! And don’t go and try and to sneak in instant tea and pass it off as the real deal. A true Southerner can tell the difference. Tea does not have foam on the top!
My oldest daughter Ariel and I had the opportunity to travel to Washington DC a couple of summers ago. She attended a youth leadership conference and I was taking summer classes at Washington Theological Union. For two weeks she and I attended our classes and communicated each evening by cell phone. As we would recount the days events the one common thing that we both noted was, we were starving. Both of us were longing for good ole white Wonder Bread and a tall glass of sweet iced tea. Oh, I could order the tea and get a glass of tea with a few cubes of ice in it and pack of sugar. That was not going to cut it. The little deli I ate at daily finally took pity on me. They called me Mississippi. ‘Hey Mississippi! Show us how you make tea way down there in the South.” So I did. I showed them how to pack that glass full of ice and just how sweet tea should be and how make a proper tomato sandwich. As they sampled my humble creations I saw them smile. The next day as I headed toward the metro for my trip into the city I noticed a new sign on their menu. New Items! Southern Sweet Iced tea and Tomato Sandwiches. Food and Sweet tea….the universal language.
Food For Thought
Now here’s some ‘food’ for thought. When is the last time you and your family sat down at the dinner table and had a real meal together? Oh you know the kind of meal I’m talking about….Remember when we were kids and we would be outside playing or working in the yard. Mom was busy in the kitchen whipping up those mashed potatoes, boiling the ears of sweet summer corn and black-eyed peas, pulling that big black skillet filled with cornbread out of the hot oven and serving it all with slices of garden fresh tomato and chunks of onion and of course the tall glass of sweet iced tea. Mom stuck her head out the door and yelled ‘Supper!’ and we came running! After a trip to the kitchen sink to wash our hands everyone sat around the dinner table and enjoyed that meal. Now I grant you this might have only been a couple of days out of the week and Sunday was one of those days, but it was a good time for the family.
Fast forward a couple of decades and now what is a family meal like? Jump in the car and go to Sonic or Subway, grab the bag with the sandwich, go home, plop in front of the TV and watch ‘Are you Smarter Than a Fifth Grader?’. Breakfast might be the kids are strapped in the backseat and mom tosses an oatmeal bar at them while she is gulping down the diet soda as she frantically drops them off at school on her way to work.
Our lifestyle today is not conducive to family meals and that is so sad. Just because Mom is at the ball field with the kids during a game and Dad drives up and they grab a burger at the concession stand, does not qualify as a sit down meal together. Some kids today don’t know how to conduct themselves in a dinner situation. They take calls on the phone, they don’t know how to pass food or even pass the salt and pepper (they are married and never go anywhere without the other) and they don’t know how to have a conversation around the table. The dinner table is where a family builds its identity and culture. Legends are passed down, jokes rendered, eventually the wider world examined through the lens of a family's values. Younger kids pick up vocabulary and a sense of how conversation is structured. They hear how a problem is solved, learn to listen to other people's concerns and respect their tastes. A meal is about sharing. So pull up some chairs. Lose the TV. Let the phone go unanswered. See where the moment takes you. Bon Appetit!
Fast forward a couple of decades and now what is a family meal like? Jump in the car and go to Sonic or Subway, grab the bag with the sandwich, go home, plop in front of the TV and watch ‘Are you Smarter Than a Fifth Grader?’. Breakfast might be the kids are strapped in the backseat and mom tosses an oatmeal bar at them while she is gulping down the diet soda as she frantically drops them off at school on her way to work.
Our lifestyle today is not conducive to family meals and that is so sad. Just because Mom is at the ball field with the kids during a game and Dad drives up and they grab a burger at the concession stand, does not qualify as a sit down meal together. Some kids today don’t know how to conduct themselves in a dinner situation. They take calls on the phone, they don’t know how to pass food or even pass the salt and pepper (they are married and never go anywhere without the other) and they don’t know how to have a conversation around the table. The dinner table is where a family builds its identity and culture. Legends are passed down, jokes rendered, eventually the wider world examined through the lens of a family's values. Younger kids pick up vocabulary and a sense of how conversation is structured. They hear how a problem is solved, learn to listen to other people's concerns and respect their tastes. A meal is about sharing. So pull up some chairs. Lose the TV. Let the phone go unanswered. See where the moment takes you. Bon Appetit!
Food Pantry and Goofy politicians
Saturday was hot and I and few of my Methodist brothers and sisters were right out there in the oppressive heat sweating off a few gallons of water. No, we were not exercising, at least not in that sense of the word. We were giving out food boxes at the Our Daily Bread Food Pantry. The morning began around 10:30 when my husband and I arrived at the parking lot to start checking off the names of the people that were lining up and give the pickup ticket according to how many family’s boxes they are there to get. Bro. John Foster set up his tent for the cool water station while trying to get people lined up neatly. I had a bag of ice draped around my neck and wore a huge hat. It made the heat a bit more tolerable. The good folks from Louis Memorial had the assembly line going and in one hour we had given out 206 boxes. At times it’s a lot like herding cats.
The Food Pantry gives out food once a month to those in need. Pray about it and then come help us in anyway you can. You will sweat in the summer and freeze in the winter but in your heart, you know you are doing the work of the Lord.
Later I ventured out to go listen to some political speeches and to stump for my dear friend Mabel Murphree who is running for Public Service Commissioner of the Northern District on the Republican ticket. I heard some good speeches and some that made me stop and go HUH!? One such speech maker said he doesn’t believe in the ‘Toyota Way’ referring to the coming Toyota Car Plant in Union County. After listening to this candidate I think he is sadly misinformed about what the term ‘Toyota Way’ means as well as not understanding the Japanese culture.
Listening and learning are key principles to Toyota, that and a desire for continuous improvement. The Toyota executives came to North Mississippi and they saw a potential workforce of hardworking people that desire to have an education and good jobs and they saw that our culture and people are not that different from theirs. Toyota saw our potential folks! How long has Mississippi been the front page whipping post for America? How long has Mississippi been ridiculed for being ignorant and backwards? How long have we been laughed at because we talk with a southern drawl and since we talk slow, we must be slow thinkers? Now is our chance to show America and the world that we are not dullards. I am glad that there are visionary people in the PUL Alliance. They worked hard to make this plant happen. I am proud of Gov. Haley Barbour for going to Japan and meeting with Toyota and getting us this plant.
I think I can safely assume that most people haven’t traveled to Japan. I have and I have friends there and when they travel to the US they come to Mississippi. It is a beautiful country and they hold their traditions close to their hearts just as we do. They love their children, just as we do. They have extremely strong family connections and take care of their own, just as we do. They also have one the strongest educational and work ethics of any country I know, probably more so than we do. So, Mr. Candidate, before you go and start bashing the ‘Toyota Way’, read and listen and then make an informed decision. I, for one will be talking to people and I will cast my vote for the candidate that understands what that term means. The polls open at 7 AM on Tuesday August 7th. That’s my 54th birthday and I can think of no better way to celebrate the day than to work at the polls and to cast my vote.
The Food Pantry gives out food once a month to those in need. Pray about it and then come help us in anyway you can. You will sweat in the summer and freeze in the winter but in your heart, you know you are doing the work of the Lord.
Later I ventured out to go listen to some political speeches and to stump for my dear friend Mabel Murphree who is running for Public Service Commissioner of the Northern District on the Republican ticket. I heard some good speeches and some that made me stop and go HUH!? One such speech maker said he doesn’t believe in the ‘Toyota Way’ referring to the coming Toyota Car Plant in Union County. After listening to this candidate I think he is sadly misinformed about what the term ‘Toyota Way’ means as well as not understanding the Japanese culture.
Listening and learning are key principles to Toyota, that and a desire for continuous improvement. The Toyota executives came to North Mississippi and they saw a potential workforce of hardworking people that desire to have an education and good jobs and they saw that our culture and people are not that different from theirs. Toyota saw our potential folks! How long has Mississippi been the front page whipping post for America? How long has Mississippi been ridiculed for being ignorant and backwards? How long have we been laughed at because we talk with a southern drawl and since we talk slow, we must be slow thinkers? Now is our chance to show America and the world that we are not dullards. I am glad that there are visionary people in the PUL Alliance. They worked hard to make this plant happen. I am proud of Gov. Haley Barbour for going to Japan and meeting with Toyota and getting us this plant.
I think I can safely assume that most people haven’t traveled to Japan. I have and I have friends there and when they travel to the US they come to Mississippi. It is a beautiful country and they hold their traditions close to their hearts just as we do. They love their children, just as we do. They have extremely strong family connections and take care of their own, just as we do. They also have one the strongest educational and work ethics of any country I know, probably more so than we do. So, Mr. Candidate, before you go and start bashing the ‘Toyota Way’, read and listen and then make an informed decision. I, for one will be talking to people and I will cast my vote for the candidate that understands what that term means. The polls open at 7 AM on Tuesday August 7th. That’s my 54th birthday and I can think of no better way to celebrate the day than to work at the polls and to cast my vote.
Be Prepared
You can collect almost anything these days. The Franklin Mint makes a mint selling everything from replicas of antique cars to porcelain scenes from “Gone With the Wind.” Well, I have a collection of my own: Umbrellas! I must have gone through about 20 of them and I think there are 5 at home. I have several with the Velcro closure. I have one with the snap closure. I have one with a silver button. I have one with Mickey Mouse. I have one that looks like a sunflower and one that looks like a Monet painting. It all depends on where I was when the thunderstorm hit. And every time it happens, I tell myself, I’m not going to buy another one, and then I’ll be out shopping somewhere and it starts pouring down rain so I give in and buy another one. And then, a week or two later, when the weatherman is predicting rain, I forget one of the ones that I already have and go out of the house without one. So what I’m about to say falls under the category of “Do as I say, not as I do.” Because I do exactly what Jesus tells us NOT to do in today’s gospel. I end up not being prepared. And I get soaked. I sometimes think I’m single-handedly keeping the umbrella industry afloat. But Christ today tells us something every Boy Scout knows by heart. Be prepared. Be like the servant who is awaiting the master’s return. Have the lamps lit. Be at the door, ready to greet him. Be prepared. There is an almost anxious tone to this gospel – and I suspect we often think of it in terms of the second coming, or the last judgment. Be prepared for Christ’s return, and to have to give an accounting of your life. Be prepared to be judged. That is part of it. But I’d like to suggest another way of approaching this passage. One more hopeful. Because this particular gospel is not about an ending…but a beginning. Be prepared…for something wonderful. Be prepared for God to come into your life. Be prepared to open the door to Christ…and let him in, and to serve him. In a way, this gospel is nothing less than a profound parable about the vocation to the Christian life. We are all called. Each of us has a vocation, a calling to fulfill for God. But are we able to answer it? Are we listening for it? Are we prepared? Are we ready for whatever God wants us to do with our lives? Are we looking for Him, anticipating Him? Are we ready to give Him what He wants and needs – our time, our talent, even perhaps our lives? I think it’s misguided to think of this as just referring to material wealth. After all, Christ had earlier told his disciples that life does not consist of possessions. No, I think this passage goes deeper. What we have been entrusted with can’t be measured in dollars, or kept in a bank. You can’t stash it away in a safe deposit box or a trust fund.We have been entrusted with something better, the most monumental gift: our faith. The letter to the Hebrews puts it so eloquently that faith “is the realization of what is hoped for, and evidence of things not seen.” It is something beautiful and mysterious. And it is ours. Our Catholic Christian faith has withstood two millennia of persecution and denial and doubt. And it has been passed on to us – the deposit of faith, and all the sacraments. In short: we have been entrusted with much. And much will be required. You can never know when God might come to your door, asking you to give something back. Be prepared. Be prepared to feed the hungry, or shelter the homeless. Be prepared to listen to a child who is hurting…or comfort a friend who is lonely…or say a prayer for a stranger in intensive care. Be prepared to stand up for those who have no one to stand up for them. The weak, the frightened, the old, the unborn. Much will be required of the person entrusted with much. And still more will be demanded of the person entrusted with more. Look around you at the faith that has been handed to us. And look before you, to the tabernacle, where the Eucharist, Christ himself, waits for us. And look to the altar, where the greatest mystery of our faith is about to unfold. We have been entrusted with everything. What will we do with that? This morning, we pray to be ready whenever God comes, for whatever He may ask us to do. Light the lamp. Wait by the door. Be prepared. Be prepared for something wonderful. And of course…if you don’t remember anything else I’ve told you this morning, please remember this: Don’t leave home without your umbrella.
Monday, July 23, 2007
voting and VoTech high schools
Sundancer is into day 6 and coming toward the finish line. So far the stats show they are coming in at number 1. These kids have worked their bums off on this project. They are awesome and their teachers are to be commended for the dedication shown . Good Luck Sundancers
I can't wait to see tomorrows results.
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