What's over that hill? I want to go see!

My Mother, Bless her Heart:
She had a wonderful sense of humor, she sort of cursed me with it.
When choosing a name for me before I was born she had Shannon as the #1 name.
Then in the middle of deep thinking she changed it to represent her experience as the oldest child. What being the
eldest meant for her was having to "Share" all her life. So when I entered this world I came as "Sharon"
She pretty much hit the nail on the head there once my siblings began arriving.
Our names mean something to us as a child. At times we love them, sometimes we may want to change the letters
to make it more interesting. Other times we wish so hard it was something else, especially when a song comes out
using a female name and we just love it.

Sherry, Sherry baby
Sherry, Sherry baby

Sherry baby [(sherry baby)] baby [(Sherry baby)]
Sherry can you come out tonight?
Sherry baby [(Sherry baby)]
Sherry can you come out tonight?

I fell in love with that name, kind of like mine, not as dull as mine, fun to say, fun to sing.
Why couldn't she have named me that instead?
We spend moments wondering why our parent/parents chose certain things in our life. Wondering,
itself, is an adventure. It opens your mind to see all the choices that can be made, to see the bigger picture.
Hopefully you learn to then add to that wondering , "Prediction" to think about those choices and
what could happen if you choose that one or this one.
I will bet your Dada has been leading you to use that recipe for decision making. He was a fast learner,
solid listener and spot on observer of learning from mistakes of his brothers. All I had to do was ask him
"If you choose do do that, what will happen then?" He would figure out what was the best choice for him
I did not have to tell him what to do. I'd say, he has done a real good job living his life using that recipe.
So always talk to Dada, because will always LET you speak.
 

Sixteen and so wise already:
I want to share an example that made me so proud.
Home from school one day your Dada came in and said "Mom I have a problem". "Let's figure it out then" I replied.
He told me heard rumors about his girlfriend and another guy and gave me the details. I asked him "did you ask her about it?
He said he did but later he saw her in his car with him, so she lied.
"What do you want to do about it?" "He made a small laugh and said, " I want to beat the crap out of him"
I replied "Let's say you do, what do you think will happen then?"
Dada: "He will then get some of his friends and beat the crap out of me"
Me: "What then if anything?"
Dada: " I will get my friends and we will beat the the crap out of them"
Me: "While you all are beating the crap out of each other, what will she be doing?"
Dada sat there, with this bewildered look on his face then his eyes opened wide and said,
"She most likely will be off with someone else! To hell with her, let her go then!"
He was right, she kept doing the same thing to any boy she dated for several years.
I knew then your Dada would always consider all possible solutions to problem and choose the one right for him.
Now instead of coming to me to think it through, he speaks with your Mom. That is how it should be.
I am very proud of your Dada, you be too.
 
Oh the roads you are even now traveling:
I love that you find activities that interest you and give them a try.
Karate, piano, dance and probably others later on. You give them a good honest try and stick with those you
really like and that gives something back to you.
You never know where these interests may lead to. Things you will see, places you may go to for events, and oh, the people
you may meet along the way.
We can't be the best at everything, but if that thing helps make us the best we can be, you have a winner. You have determination
in you , I can see that, you battle those steps to get better with focus and bravery until you master it. If something is worth doing
there will always be a step that stumbles you. Even when you think you've mastered it.
Once something doesn't inspire you to learn more, get better, then you may have to choose to take it to another direction,
off the highway, out of the norm. That is how music evolved from folk music to rock and roll, how modern dance branched off from ballet.
You and I played with imagination games, we sat looking out the front window down the street and imagined purple elephants walking up the street, then you added pink feathers, then a duck waddling in front. I hope you never lose the ability to imagine, the world really is as small
as your imagination is. Of course it' not just to imagine funny creatures...
I will let your imagination take it from here what you think I am saying. Let me know what you come up with Hummingbird.
 
This one is not going to my Grand Daughter's book.

grma-grpa1975.jpg

Grandpa was definitely the Leo of the house and Grandma the care taker, peacemaker, never a bad word about anyone for anything.
She went on vacations every year with Grandpa to visit the folks back home, never complained.
Little did we know she had a secret dream.
Grandma was a bitty lady 4'10 do well to hit 100 lbs on the scale. They moved to California when she became ill with TB to get her to a dryer climate. She did well there. Grandpa was 6'2" and usually carried 210 lbs on him or more. They were an odd couple physically.
I was pregnant with my 3rd son when she was diagnosed with Cancer. The radiation was taking a real toll on her and it wasn't doing any good.
Since she was too weak to care for their large home Grandpa chooses to sell it and buy a Mobile Home in a retirement village. She never let on how badly this upset her when it was decided. Prior to the move Grandpa asked me if Grandma could come stay with me during the move since he didn't want me lifting and helping and she could rest better not in that chaos.
All the changes hitting so fast got to her and one day sitting on the sofa with her she got this look on her face and things began tumbling out. Things I never knew or had a clue about. She didn't cry in the telling, just held her head high and let it rip.
One item she told me made her ask me to promise her something; and she never ever asked for promises.
I will never forget her words "All my life I been catering to that man, doing as he needed, wanted, went where he wanted. I was never unfaithful and kept him well cared for as well as his home. I asked 2 years ago instead of going to Oklahoma, could we go to Hawaii, I always wanted to see it, just once and he told me No. God forgive me Sharon but I was hoping with his health issues he would die before me so I could go to Hawaii when he was gone, and I am getting cheated from that now.
I want you to promise me something. I see your sense of wander, to venture and learn and see places. You have been able to do some of that but I think the biggest is not yet come. Promise me if you EVER have that deep pull to travel somewhere, do not let ANYONE tell you no". and her tears began, my tears began and I gave her the one thing she never asked of anyone, a promise.

She went home to the new Mobile and a week later went into the hospital. I was due any day, her hospital was hours away, we had one car and everyone was scared to take me to see her in case I went into labor. The morning Mom called me and said they told them to gather the family I told her "Come get me or I will drive my friends car"
I arrived at the hospital and got in the elevator and nearly every person in it wanted to push the maternity ward button for me. I got to her floor walked past several room doors but one I hesitated at but followed Mom to the desk. "She passed 10 minutes ago, wait for them to make her presentable and then family can go in" When we walked to the room, it was the one I hesitated at we entered.
She was so teeny in that bed, if it hadn't been for her feet sticking up you would think it was empty. She was the first person to die that I loved deeply and all I was feeling was overwhelming.
When I got home I went to the bedroom. I had not been a person to pray very much and not in the on knee at bedside type of prayer. I did that day. Tears flowing, sobbing the words I simply asked "Please Please Dear Lord, either of 2 things; let this baby come today or have it come after the funeral, I have to be at her funeral" and my heart meant it.
The baby did not come that day, he began positioning himself on the drive to the funeral home. I hadn't had a quick delivery in the past so I hid my contractions really well all during the service. No one suspected at all. I knew it would be hours before delivery and I was not going to spend it laying on a bed when it wouldn't change a thing anyway.
The time came to load up for the cemetery trip and here came a good pain. I ducked into the bathroom, thinking everyone was out going to their cars. One Aunt followed me in and heard my slight groan. The cat was out of the bag. She ran out there bellowing the news.
The funeral service was over at 3:30pm, my son arrived at 1:17am. I guess I should have been more specific and prayed for the "Complete" funeral but I couldn't complain.
I held that promise in my heart for many years and Grandma was right, that day did yet come.
 
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Not for Grand Daughter's Book
Simple reflection:
Youngest son called me and into the conversation he says "You have a birthday coming up Mom, is there anything you
would like?"
He knows I downsized so much and got rid of loads of things that weren't necessary, so it was sweet of him to ask first.
I told him I really hadn't anything I needed so nothing I could think of right now.
He asks me to think it over and let him know.

Well I been thinking and in this stage of my life I have all I want. My wants are more to the emotional side of things.
I thought: There is really nothing at this point he can give me, he's already done more than enough,
He's grown into a wonderful man, thoughtful, strong, great provider, watches his money, straight and narrow
He's one heck of a Father, with respectful children, happy children, loving, caring children
He has found a woman who loves him dearly and supports him in every way and you can see he is totally in love with her
He has always been there for me, never judgmental and always showing his love and above all else, honest with me. And he
loves his Mom and is not afraid to say it.

How can I ever ask for more than that? He's given me everything I ever hoped for from him.
What I really want more than anything and he can no way give that to me assuredly right now:
To make it out to see him when he turns 50 in 2 years. That is the last dream I have stored away.
 
My Great Grandmother,
She was born Irish/Choctaw on the Choctaw reservation in Oklahoma. She was very God fearing, Jesus loving and one of the first women to
be ordained in Oklahoma when WWII broke out. The men having left to serve in the war created a shortage of ministers for those who remained behind in the coal mining towns. That was her church, the miners that were left and families of those towns.
When I was small and we had family gatherings every Sunday of 20-30 people attending. She would take us kids outside to sit under a tree and teach us about The Bible and Jesus but she added mixed a bit of tribal belief about the earth into each and every lesson.
She knew how to keep us captured in her words by her voice, her pauses and her beautiful expressions. She simply glowed as she taught us.
It was hard for me to feel the same at any church after her. I explored many to find something close to the way she taught. She was so gentle and her love of her beliefs were very apparent.
She wore her hair in a tightly wrapped bun on her head. She told me when I was in my teens that she had never cut her hair her entire life.
I looked at that small bun and wondered about that. I had never seen her hair any other way. One day upon arriving at Granny's house she
was standing in the yard in the sun with her hair down combing it dry. It was down to her calves. It was glorious white, like feathers being blown around hugging her body. I thought that to be a picture I will never forget.
She held Quilting Bees for the ladies at her home one Saturday a month, then a penny anti-poker game for the men right after. Her favorite game was Spit In The Ocean.
When the family gathered to sing and play music she always played the Juice Harp. Her small dainty foot just tapping away and her eyes smiling brightly. Her name fit her "Pearl" and she was the Pearl of our family. The center of a shell made of people that encased her , the one who outshined all others and treasured just as deeply as a perfect Pearl.
 
I spent a lot of time from 5ish to 11ish climbing to the top of Pine trees and swaying back and forth.
Exploring Creeks and Timber were big on the to do list too.

Field work livestock and Tractors took up most of my time after that. I got pretty good at building fences
Field tiny homes for piggies and Cattle shelters too. It became my 2nd passion.
 
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IrishEyes said:
My Mother, Bless her Heart:
She had a wonderful sense of humor, she sort of cursed me with it.
When choosing a name for me before I was born she had Shannon as the #1 name.
Then in the middle of deep thinking she changed it to represent her experience as the oldest child. What being the
eldest meant for her was having to "Share" all her life. So when I entered this world I came as "Sharon"
She pretty much hit the nail on the head there once my siblings began arriving.
Our names mean something to us as a child. At times we love them, sometimes we may want to change the letters
to make it more interesting. Other times we wish so hard it was something else, especially when a song comes out
using a female name and we just love it.

Sherry, Sherry baby
Sherry, Sherry baby

Sherry baby [(sherry baby)] baby [(Sherry baby)]
Sherry can you come out tonight?
Sherry baby [(Sherry baby)]
Sherry can you come out tonight?

I fell in love with that name, kind of like mine, not as dull as mine, fun to say, fun to sing.
Why couldn't she have named me that instead?
We spend moments wondering why our parent/parents chose certain things in our life. Wondering,
itself, is an adventure. It opens your mind to see all the choices that can be made, to see the bigger picture.
Hopefully you learn to then add to that wondering , "Prediction" to think about those choices and
what could happen if you choose that one or this one.
I will bet your Dada has been leading you to use that recipe for decision making. He was a fast learner,
solid listener and spot on observer of learning from mistakes of his brothers. All I had to do was ask him
"If you choose do do that, what will happen then?" He would figure out what was the best choice for him
I did not have to tell him what to do. I'd say, he has done a real good job living his life using that recipe.
So always talk to Dada, because will always LET you speak.
Click to expand...
Sherry has a cool ring too! ... :coffee: ...
 
My Mom:

mom-friends.JPG
If you ask an Irishman about an Irish woman, that's my Mom.
She did everything hard full force. Stubborn, goal oriented, cleaned hard enough to rub the enamel off the stove.
She lived hard, loved hard, partied hard and disciplined hard. She hard a beautiful toned laugh that rang through the house.
She had fire in her voice when she was mad. I can't think of anything she did that landed in the middle of hard and soft, except one thing.
Her love for her Mom. Now that was gentle, soft and so special to see. It wasn't until I was grown with kids of my own did I see that
towards me.
I never wished for a different Mom, she was mine, I loved her, I just learned fast that for both our sakes being at my grandparents house
seemed to suit her and I both. So I was there more than home.
If someone would have asked me as a kid to draw a picture of my mom, that picture would be her either at the stove or kitchen sink or her backside bent over scrubbing floors. She always wore those dresses with the full skirt (1950's style). I don't think I saw her in a pair of slacks
until the late 60's.
Our roughest years were my teen years. It began when at fourteen I found my birth certificate. There was a name for my father whom I had no idea about. I walked into the living room with the paper in my hand and asked who he was. I had never seen her face crumble like that before.
She sat me down and began to explain him to me. He was a Marine she had met when waitressing. How handsome he was. How I got his blue eyes and thick hair. When she talked about him I heard a softness in her voice that was so rare. I had no doubt he was her first love.
She explained he was sent to Korea and most likely died there as she quit hearing from him.
I was born in the years of " a child is seen but not heard" so I learned to be very observant. For some odd reason it just blurt out of my mouth, my first backtalk filled with a calm anger as I looked her square in the eye and asked "Why are you lying to me?" She answered with a slap across my face. That was the moment our relationship drastically changed for about five to six years.
A few years later she married a man who physically abused her and asked for my help moving her out. I was about to turn twenty one at that time and had my first child. We began to spend more time together and I quickly learned she had much better friend skills than mother skills.
We shared many common interests and enjoyed each other in those roles. It was then she freely told me the truth about her and my father.
I finally understood why it was so difficult for her to talk about it. I felt so much awe in how she fought to keep and raise me in a time when unwed mothers were not viewed in a good light to most people. It was a good thing she loved hard, as that is what it took in her circumstances to keep me.
We were best friends the rest of her days, I was her ever present one when she needed help in health issues with her heart, The one she counted on. Even though she often said "You are not your Mother's daughter" I knew she had a bit of pride on her face for that fact.
 
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Side note; I am not going chronological order here. I am writing as memories fill my head.
I will be skipping my first husband as he is not worth thinking about. Only two good things came from that experience,
My oldest son and learning quickly to walk away from a mental and physical abuse situation.
 
My Country Bumpkin:
A year or so after divorcing my first husband my mom decided I needed to begin getting out and meeting people.
At that time she was a cook for a Lounge during the day and usually stayed after her shift to have a few and dance a bit.
I was never a drinker, smoker so her social habits and mine were not the same. Plus I was surrounded by people my age that were
into the Hippy movement, music and that frame of mind. I liked long hair on men, she liked really short hair on them. Our tastes
were not the same.
I was attracted to quiet, non-attention seeking guys, and mom (as I said before she did everything hard) liked to party hard with boisterous
personalities. So when she approached me to come meet this new guy who her friend just began bringing into the lounge, I said No Thank you.
"Oh come on Sharon, he's your type personality wise, I really think you will see if you meet him". Again I said "No".
She bought tickets for a Saturday afternoon performance of an outdoor play I had been dying to see about the history of Ramona, California set to music. That I did accept and we went and it was such a wonderful play. On the way home she said she needed to stop at the lounge to pick up her check. I should have known then.
We walk in and she exclaims "Oh look Lonnie (her current fling) and his buddy are here, let's sit with them a bit". Right away I feel my insides
curl up, my soul seep into darkness and my words turn into air.
Lonnie calls out to mom "Whatcha all drinking, I got this!" I answered "Coke" when asked and he says "Aww come on sweetie you can do better than that" I looked at mom and simply said "Nope, just a coke I have a child to return home to in a bit" Of course as gentleman do, they stood up and offered the inner seats of the booth to her and I and of course, we had a male one side of us each.
After introductions were made Lonnie and Mom get up to dance leaving me with this man I just met. He began talking and surprisingly it was not filled with flashy charm and one liners or pick up lines. It was actual conversation, nothing personal. So I looked closer at him.
All right I am a generation of bell bottomed, T-shirt, saude jacketed, long haired men with facial hair. This man was short haired with a 1960's Waylon Jennings greased back hair style, clean shaven wearing stove pipe legged pants and a cowboy snap shirt, even cowboy boots.

Waylon waylon.JPG My Type cat.JPG

Do you see the dilemma here? But , man oh man, there was Something even more different about this
Country Bumpkin from Missouri.
carl-me.jpg

continued later:
 
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AHEM AHEM!!!

I met Waylon briefly when he was clean cut and before he was famous.
I liked his brother Tommy the best. Here is Waylon in the mid 70s. I went
to the premiere showing of his first film about a Hereford bull 1965 or 66.
Worst movie I have ever seen.
waylon-jennings-in-concert-c-1976-everett-642627600.jpg
 
Deya said:
AHEM AHEM!!!

I met Waylon briefly when he was clean cut and before he was famous.
I liked his brother Tommy the best. Here is Waylon in the mid 70s.
View attachment 444096
Click to expand...
Waylon was Carl's guy, he could even be an imposter singer for him their voices were so much alike.
The last time we saw Waylon was at Hag's Place (Merle Haggard) in Hollywood. He was unkept and forgot most the lyrics of his songs, his brother had to cover it. It was way to sad to see him like that.
 
IrishEyes said:
Waylon was Carl's guy, he could even be an imposter singer for him their voices were so much alike.
The last time we saw Waylon was at Hag's Place (Merle Haggard) in Hollywood. He was unkept and forgot most the lyrics of his songs, his brother had to cover it. It was way to sad to see him like that.
Click to expand...
Yeah, he had a cocaine addition. Very sad! I knew he did a lot of drinking back in the 60s. Did you know the Jennings family was from Irish and Black Dutch (more correctly Swiss Dutch)?

It was around 1966 when I was staying with an uncle and aunt that ran an electronics parts store. I stayed with them a few months one summer to do deliveries for them. Waylon and his group were in town and one of the guitarist and band technicians had ordered new tubes for one of their amps. I delivered to a guest house where a guy yelled out come in. This was 2 in the afternoon and after I beat the door half down.

I go in and see a guy still on the sleeper couch, just waking. I handed him the invoice and he got up to get the cash. He was wearing nothing but skimpy silk briefs that didn't hide much. I was a semi innocent 16 year old and was a bit startled by the shiny bikini undies. He handed me the cash and another guy came in also in undies and offered me a toke off a roach that had to be held with nails.

Anyway, I got out of there and after telling my aunt the story, she laughed and pointed out that was more exciting than delivering to the TV repair places that are full of smoke and have nicotine dripping off the walls and old guys in railroad bibs that grunt, choke, and spit.

Later that summer, I delivered to a radio station where I knew the DJ. He introduced me to Tommy. He seemed very nice. I never saw him again.
 
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Deya said:
Yeah, he had a cocaine addition. Very sad! I knew he did a lot of drinking back in the 60s. Did you know the Jennings family was from Irish and Black Dutch (more correctly Swiss Dutch)?

It was around 1966 when I was staying with an uncle and aunt that ran an electronics parts store. I stayed with them a few months one summer to do deliveries for them. Waylon and his group were in town and one of the guitarist and band technicians had ordered new tubes for one of their amps. I delivered to a guest house where a guy yelled out come in. This was 2 in the afternoon and after I beat the door half down.

I go in and see a guy still on the sleeper couch, just waking. I handed him the invoice and he got up to get the cash. He was wearing nothing but skimpy silk briefs that didn't hide much. I was a semi innocent 16 year old and was a bit startled by the shiny bikini undies. He handed me the cash and another guy came in also in undies and offered me a toke off a roach that had to be held with nails.

Anyway, I got out of there and after telling my aunt the story, she laughed and pointed out that was more exciting than delivering to the TV repair places that are full of smoke and have nicotine dripping off the walls and old guys in railroad bibs that grunt, choke, and spit.

Later that summer, I delivered to a radio station where I knew the DJ. He introduced me to Tommy. He seemed very nice. I never saw him again.
Click to expand...
That is one heck of a memory. One for the books for sure. , I'd have been scared to death!
 

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