I am woman - and I can vote

From the AP Highlight in History: 

1587	Virginia Dare became the first child of English parents to be born on American soil, on what is now Roanoke Island, N.C.

On Aug. 18, 1920, the 19th Amendment to the Constitution, which guarantees the right of women to vote, was ratified when Tennessee became the 36th state to approve it.

Imagine, only 424 years from the birth of the first daughter born to English parents on American soil to the day American women gained the right to vote. What an ultimate tribute to Virginia Dare!

In 1920, both of my grandmothers were coming of age and could take advantage of this great event in their lives. 

Here’s to Abigail Adams, Elizabeth Cady Stanton and everyone else who fought to recognize women as equal citizens. May we never take for granted what they gained for us and exercise our right to vote. 

This isn’t the best recording of Helen Ready signing “I AM WOMAN”, but it has the most acceptable comments. This song got a lot of us through the 70’s. 

A Tribute to Elvis

AP Highlight in History: On Aug. 16, 1977, singer Elvis Presley died at Graceland Mansion in Memphis, Tenn., at age 42.

34 years ago ’the King’ died. Although I wasn’t a diehard Elvis fan, I still remember exactly where I was and what I was doing the day he died. His death made you re-think all the things in your life. Were they actions which added value to your life or were they decreasing the number of your days. 

Who could not like Elvis? Who hasn’t enjoyed an Elvis imitator?  Love Me Tender is still one of my all time favorite songs. We didn’t have time to really know him, did we? Some of his best work though was singing gospels. It is worth checking out on YouTube. 

In honor of today, I’m including a link to Take my hand, Precious Lord. It includes video of his funeral procession. 

In 1970, I was on a summer bus trip with 30 or so older teen age girls and chaperons. We had to come through Memphis to come home to Texas. We made a side trip to drive by Graceland. All we could do was stop and take photos of the wrought iron rockin’ rollin’ gates. 

When I think of Elvis, Graceland is never far behind. It is funny though, when I move to Graceland it is the Paul Simon song that comes to mind. This link is Willie Nelson and Paul Simon.

Or one of my favorite X-File episodes when Mulder had to take a vacation and went to Graceland. 

Loaded for bear - 8-1-1966 The Tower - Whitman

8-1-1966 Charles Joseph Whitman shot and killed 14 people at the University of Texas before he was gunned down by police.

It was a blazing hot day in 1966. I remember sitting in our family room watching this event unfold on television. A drama playing out without any meaning, which turned out to be the first of many in my life. 

I was just days away from beginning my freshman year in high school and college seemed light years away. While I had no plans to go to Texas, at that time, I still felt like we had lost something, something precious. May those were feelings that all true Texans had that day. 

Four years later, I was a freshman in Austin and the Tower was the center of our universe. On any quiet afternoon, crossing the South Mall, for a second, you could feel the rifle scope aimed at your back.  
Listen to a report of the weapons he had with him. 

Where I belong...

The goal is not to bend or change ourselves so we fit the norm; the goal is to find the group in which we are the norm.  SImon Sinek

More than a decade ago, I took a huge risk and attended my first writer’s conference. American Christian Writers held their Dallas conference in conjunction with one of the retail book shows. There was a great line up of speakers: Lin Johnson, Steve Laube, Susan Osborn Titus and Marita Littauer. 

I soaked in every word. I listened to how they spoke. I watched how they moved. At breaks, I approached them with questions. I engaged with enthusiasm. I learned I had too much respect for the craft of writing to be able to do it part-time, so my writing career would have to wait until retirement. 

At the banquet, I sat at Marita’s table. While I enjoyed the conversation, to my surprise, I found myself to be a major contributor. Among these writers, I easily slipped into my true personality. I felt at home. Attending the CLASSeminar one day was my  number one take away from the conference. 

Last week, I fulfilled this long held ambition and attended the CLASSeminar in San Antonio. It was everything I had anticipated: the facilitators, the material, the lectures and the small group experiences.

More importantly it is a community to which I belong, and now as a CLASS alumni it is official. 

Where I'm from

In one of my loops we were challenged to work the Where I'm from template, by George

Ella Lyon. You can find a link to the poem, and a template here: http://www.swva.net/fred1st/wif.htm 


The following is my version - 

Where I'm from - 

I’m from an egg yolk, from the egg white and the skillet. 

I‘m from a father built home, full of imagination, desire and fear. 

I’m from the bluebonnets, the cedars and the hot blazing sun. 

I‘m from holidays and stubbornness, from Mamaw of banana pudding and plaster of paris and from Papaw of long tales and great inventiveness and from Jesus.

I’m from speaking your mind and standing for your beliefs. 

From the worlds of my own creations and the destiny I foretold.

I’m from the front pew of worship, from God’s word freely shared, from God’s spirit blowing gently by.

I'm from Duncanville, from Texas, from Georgia, from Colorado,  from green fried tomatoes and Dr. Pepper.

From the anticipation of hospital waiting rooms, and coughing in the night, and waiting alone in the dark. 

I am from hot attics, crumbling scotch tape and engraved hearts. 

Vincent van Gogh and Don McLean

Today in History 29, July 1890, Artist Vincent van Gogh died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound in Auvers, France, at age 37 

I am drawn to van Gogh’s work more than any other artist. Each piece brings me great peace and belonging. It is hard for me to separate my thoughts of his work from Don McLean’s song, Starry, Starry Night.  When I think of the paintings, the song comes to mind. When I think of the song, I see the paintings in the back of my mind. 

Although, I love Starry, Starry Nights, my favorite is Irises. The one white iris in a field of blue speaks to me it is okay to be different. 

For the most part I don’t search for meaning in his work. I allow myself to be drawn into the beauty.  And, oh, how his beauty draws me. 

What torment to have so much to say and no one to encourage you. 

Who in your life of beauty needs encouragement today? Will you reach out to those who bring you love and joy? 

Click to see van Gogh’s work and hear Don McLean sing

'Book'ed Out

I never thought I would say this, but I am ‘book’ed out. 

I recently received a “preferred customer” catalogue from Christian Book Distributors. Usually, I longingly read it from cover to cover. I couldn’t bare to open this catalogue. 

Never in my life have I had so many stacks of unread books in my library. Over half of the books are signed by the authors, who are now folks in my contact files and friends. 

This feeling started this spring at the Church Library State Conference, three days of talking about books, a gym full of books for sale hosted by Lifeway and Barnes and Noble and tables of authors and their books. Saturday morning this booked out feeling came over me as I walked into the gym. I could not look at another book or speak to another author. Don’t worry, my trunk was full of purchases from the day before, but, oh, this was such a sinking feeling. 

I wish I could lay my hand on the cover and do a mind meld with the book, drawing the contents into my head. Now, it is not enough to read the book. I need to write a review for each book. And I want to write about the books. 

Yet, suddenly, I am back in 3rd grade. My teacher held a reading contest. To participate,     you read the book and produced a book report, which could either be written, drawn or given orally. My competitive choleric traits kicked in and I read up a storm. I quickly learned both the written report and the drawing required you to actually produce something, while the likelihood of giving an oral report was slim, since we never had any extra time in the classroom. You can guess how I filled out the index cards regarding the report type I had chosen. I not only won the contest, I won the joy of reading and the ability to find a way to use the rules to my advantage. 

Spending the last week at the hospital, away from my stacks of books, I discovered I’m not as booked out as I thought, I managed to order another stack from CBD’s MidWeek email. Oh, well...