Ron’s Time Tunnel: What’s That Smell?

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I grew up in Cuthbert, Georgia, and although I wasn’t attuned to it in my youth, racial bias and prejudice were interwoven into the “colored” fabric of our lives there. In retrospect, I don’t see how I could have missed it, but as I matured, the signs became obvious.

Going into the Air Force and experiencing the climate of comradery which dominated the atmosphere there, gave me a broader perspective on race relations; being exposed to the fresh air of diversity, made the malodorous and stagnant air of my beloved home, by contrast, even more oppressively obvious.

It’s kind of like working all week at a paper mill, or the chicken plant—whose efflux blankets the town of Cuthbert when the wind is right—then getting off for the weekend; enjoying the comforts and pleasantly familiar smells of home all weekend; then afterwards, going back into the plant on Monday morning.

When you first enter the chicken plant, on Monday morning, the rancid smell assails your now “virgin” nostrils, but after a few days, or even hours, you become acclimated to it. It becomes almost unnoticeable. That’s what leaving Cuthbert; staying away for a while (e.g. the Military) then coming back felt like, when it came to my hometown’s racial climate.

I recall one such instance, in which my father and I had driven to town to get gas at a “filling station” on “the square”. Every small, southern town worth its salt, has a “square”, but Cuthbert’s “square” is more of a “squircle”—a real word by the way—than a square. The “squircle” has thrived for decades under the vigilant gaze of a life-sized statue bedecked in full Confederate Army officer regalia, with all of the accoutrements deserving of such an immortally heroic figure.

As a child, I thought this monument was an image of “General Cuthbert”. I was never told that his name was Cuthbert, neither did I read it anywhere. It just seemed to me that he must be “General Cuthbert”. Why else would he have been given such a prestigiously prominent post?

Since that time, I’ve had an opportunity to read the plaque affixed to the pedestal only to find out, rather disappointedly, that he was not “General Cuthbert” after all, in fact, he was no one, in particular.

Yes! He stood high above the “square”, on a pedestal, surrounded by stone cannons, his stony gaze, unwavering; that is, until “Drunk Guy” drove across the park proper and crashed into his pedestal, thus knocking the old fellow from his perch and sending him crashing, unceremoniously, to the ground below; shattering his “body” into to several rocky chunks.

Some say that guy wasn’t so drunk after all.

Personally, I was glad to see the old guy go down and I don’t think I was alone in my sentiments. To me, the old “General” represented a time of pain, sorrow and oppression for Black people. A time that we’d rather not see “memorialized” so obtrusively and prominently, in the very center of the town that we call home. Now, thank God Almighty, he was no more, OR WAS HE?

Well, as it turns out, the encounter with “the Drunk Guy”, was not the “General’s last stand” for some of the good “citizens” of Cuthbert, in an awesome display of “philanthropy”—obviously borne of some misplaced sense of “patriotism”—thought it not robbery to donate the funds necessary to re-erect that old phallus. Soon another, identical image of the old bastard, forged in the depths of Confederate hell, was brought forth—shinning white and new—and deposited, ceremoniously I might add, atop the moldy marbled plinth.

This, the current incarnation of “The General”, is actually his third. He was first erected in 1894, but he was subsequently, blown from his lofty perch by the “cyclone of 1909”. In his falling, he lost his left hand and was thus, retired to “Greenwood Cemetery”; the final resting place of many of the Confederate dead he’d so proudly represented, for so many decades.

His second “incarnation”, or one MIGHT say, his first RE-incarnation, was in the 1940’s, when the cyclone “victim” was replaced by a fresh-faced recruit, identical to the first one. Then came the “Drunk Guy”!

Something stinks!

But I digress; back at the “filling station”. My father had an “account” at the filling station. If one was “fortunate” enough to have had such an account, one could get gas on credit and pay at the end of the month. Once at the filling station, a young Black fellow sprinted cat-like, up to the driver’s side window of the car and asked, “How much?” “Fill her up”, Dad told the boy. It appears to me now, that all of the “pumpers” back then, were black guys and the white guys ran the cash register.

When my father went to “sign” for his gas, the owner/cashier greeted him warmly, “Hey there Fletcher. D’ja fill er up today?” “Yes sir Mr. White!” my father replied. “Well awright Fletcher, jest sign rat cheer and have a good ‘un now, ya hear?”  the owner/cashier chimed arrogantly.

Here’s what I found odiferous about the situation; why did my father refer to Mr. White as “Mr.” and Mr. White refer to my father by his first name? My father was, at least, as old as Mr. White, an educated man, and a respected member of the community.

Scenes of this nature, unfortunately, were commonplace in those times, but like the smell of the plant—to one grown unaccustomed to its odor—they were especially noxious to the olfactics. Where was the MUTUAL respect?

Let me share with you, a few of my thoughts and observations about racism, racial bias, and prejudice:

• Prejudice judges a person by his/her outward appearance, without regard to what is in the person’s heart or mind.

• Prejudice is the mark of an ignorant mind that perceives itself to be enlightened.

• Prejudice assumes it understands the actions and behaviors of others while having no knowledge or facts about the person or persons.

• Prejudice has its roots in ignorance and breeds ever increasing ignorance.

• Discrimination deprives a person or group of persons of their Constitutional rights of: “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness”.

• Discrimination deprives a person or persons of the right to belong to society.

• Stereotyping deprives a person of the right to be an individual.

• Racism is a small-minded man’s way of raising himself above others. He elevates himself by demeaning others.

God does not look at the same things that people look at; people look at outward appearance, but the Lord looks into a man’s heart.

    

     

     

      

     

Musical Affirmation: 9/29/2016

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From the “My Jams” Archives

L-O-V-E (Love) 1975

 

I just can’t say anything else that hasn’t already been said about Rev. Al Green as a singer.

But, what I will say is that this is a spiritual kind of jam!

Clearly, he’s talking about something DEEPER than romantic love.

“It’s all in the heavens…can’t you see…?”

And now…

Today’s affirmation:  I open my heart to LOVE!

 

Video credit:  Sun, Hutchney

Y’all let me know if the video owners take this joker down 😉

Enjoy your day friends and don’t forget to open your hearts to love!

Lady G 😘💋

 

***Check out the “My Jams”series for years 1966-1996 in Categories -“Music”-“My Jams.”

 

 

Fun with Symbols

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**Alternate title:  One of 10,000 random stories wandering around my limbic system.

In my neck of the woods, the Caduceus, pictured above, is associated with all things healing, health and medical.

Notice the two snakes intertwined around the Greek God Hermes’ magical winged staff.

Ah, but pretty much everywhere else in the world, the Rod or Staff of Asclepius represents the aforementioned concepts.

While  I refuse to engage in an exposé on the origins, confoundings and controversies surrounding these two symbols, I should, at least, acknowledge that the Staff of Asclepius depicts one snake on a rod–sans the wings.

Whew!

Yes, babylove Google is a helluva drug!

Get into it!

Anyway, for clarity’s sake, I ask that you forget everything I just told you about the Staff of Asclepius and focus your attention solely on the Caduceus.

Why?

Because, the Caduceus is the symbol I wanna talk about 😉

In fact, it is the symbol that I associate, not just with my pediatrician–Dr. Bennett, but also with cheeseburgers, Sears, and pecan caramel chocolate cluster candies–in that order 😉

What the hell?

Let me explain.

When I was a child, my pediatrician’s office was housed in a tall brick professional building that sported a large silver Caduceus on the side.

And, believe it or not, whenever I spotted that magical symbol, my senses would come alive!

Oh yes, it was, indeed, Pavlovian and you, I pray, are about to understand why.

Let me continue to explain.

You see, as soon as I saw the Caduceus from the parking lot– my memory would perk up and I could immediately ‘see,’ in my mind, my dear Dr. Bennett’s handsome smile.

I could ‘hear’ him say, “Hello Gwin, how are you?”

But, best of all, I could ‘smell’ then ‘taste’ the cheeseburgers that Mama and I would, no doubt, eat in a small diner located on the first floor of that building.

Let the mouth watering begin!

Oh, but the fun didn’t end there!

I thought about how immediately following our double date with the cheeseburgers, Mama and I would walk down the street to Sears to buy a bag of pecan caramel chocolate cluster candies– which we’d nibble all the way home.

Delicious!

Remember friends, I experienced all of this before we could step foot into the building for my appointment.

Oh, I can hear you guys asking, “Lady G, what the hell is the point to this story?”

To that I say, “I’m not sure…Do we need one?”

Maybe not.

But isn’t it interesting that a symbol that was meant to represent ideas of healing and medicine could be hijacked by the senses to represent things that are completely unintended like cheeseburgers and chocolate candy?

Our world is highly personalized, don’t you think?

And, on that note, Lady G never looks at a Caduceus without craving a damn good cheeseburger and some chocolates.

What say you about symbols- hijacked or otherwise?

Feel free to go a bit deeper.

Meet me in comments and let’s discuss 🙂

 

 

 

 

 

Clocks, Bells, Villagers and Watchmen

 

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                               ***This post is a follow up to  First of the Fall

In “First of the Fall,” I shared that Lady J and I were planning to enjoy the first day of fall.

And we did!

First, we went to the Hamlet of Subway in order to secure provisions for a leisurely lunch in the park.

After examining their menu, we decided to purchase a portion of roasted beast atop flattened bread-replete with any number and kind of vegetables from the farmer’s harvest.

Best believe we added a tankard of sweet tea and a bag of chips 😉

I’m partial to salt and vinegar! Lady J opted for BBQ kettle chips.

YAAASSS!

After leaving the good people at Subway, Lady J and I began a journey that ended at a local park.

There we commenced to enjoy our meal and take in the day.

 

But, alas, a bell began to toll!

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Lady J was immediately startled-yet intrigued!

What, pray tell, was that ruckus?

Naturally, I told her that it was the town’s bell informing the villagers that the time was, indeed, 12:00!

After the 12th stroke, Lady J queried, “Aren’t you glad that it’s 12:00 in the day and NOT 12:00 midnight?”

To which I immediately responded, “I know right?!”

But, then, a strange thing happened.

Another bell in the village began to strike 12.

Then, shortly after that one stopped, yet another!

Methinks the bells are out of sync!

What to do?

Oh well!  We decided that it might be best to consult with The Lord of I-Phone.

Problem solved!

Okaaaaaay?

And, to Lady J’s point, we were able to happily confirm that it was 12:00 midday  and NOT 12:00 midnight.

At any rate, the conversation took a slight shift to the days of yore when nightfall was, indeed, a very scary time. In fact, we rode that train of thought right into tales of the nightwatchmen who were tasked with walking about the town in order to insure the safety of the community.

No street lights.

No cell phones.

No cars.

Say whaaa????

Just a man with a candle or lantern and maybe some sort of primitive contraption for self defense–or as Lady J said, “A stick!”

Predecessors to law enforcement!

After giving it some thought, we both concluded that neither of us were cut out for such a task.

Apparently neither are some of them dirty police out there shooting innocent Black men dead for no reason…

But I digress.

Anyway…

The ladies agreed that the time had come to take leave of the park.

And thus ended a wonderful conversation and a lovely lunch.

______________________

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Have you guys ever heard of the Nightwatchman of Rothenburg in Germany?  I saw Rick Steves raving about it.

Has anybody been on that tour or a similar one?

I am definitely going to put a nightwatchman tour on my bucket list!  I love stuff like that!

I told y’all I was a geek!  LOL!

 

 

 

 

 

Ron’s Time Tunnel: SEASONS

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“The coming and going of the seasons give us more than the springtimes, summers, autumns, and winters of our lives. It reflects the coming and going of the circumstances of our lives like the glassy surface of a pond that shows our faces radiant with joy or contorted with pain.” ~Gary Zukav

I remember the “Big Snow” in Cuthbert, Georgia; around 1974 or ’75 I think it was. I can recall riding with my Grandmother down Andrew Street when it first started to snow.  Sitting in the front seat of the old Pontiac, I looked up at the gray sky through the front windshield and through some strange optical effect, the falling snow seemed to swirl down from a single focal point; a kind of “singularity” in a “Big Bang” of snowfall.

It snowed all night. When we peered out the windows the next morning the world was covered with a thick, white and undulating sheet of new-fallen snow; a sheet whiter than the clean, bleached white sheets on Grandma’s clothesline.  We ran from window to window; gazing out until our mind’s camera had developed a panoramic view of the entire surreal scene. We dared not go out in the snow because we lacked proper attire.

Grandmothers are notorious for insisting that no one goes out in inclement weather without proper head covering, shoes and coats but, when she’d had enough of our begging to go out and she’d tired of the deep, sad, longing in our eyes, she acquiesced, but not without compromise. We had to wear winter clothes from her closet so as to be properly protected from catching an awful disease, known only to old people, called “consumption”.

So there we were, finally, outside in the deepest whitest snow we’d ever seen. I looked goofy with my Grandmothers floppy, shiny, fake-leather hat; an oversized coat and her knee high patent-leather boots. My brother faired a little better.

He was adorned in her brown leather-like tam, gloves and a matching jacket with fake fur around the collar. He actually looked rather dapper with the brown tam cocked rakishly to the side. That day, while the rest of the world had come to a screeching halt, we made our first snowmen; had snowball fights; made angels in the snow and even pissed in the snow thus soiling its virgin whiteness with our little yellow pee stains.

We enjoyed that winter and many others, but we were always joyous when spring came and the snow and ice thawed. In spring-time, the earth gives birth to new life. Nature’s first green begins to sprout. From golden hued saplings to the jolly green giants, the trees rejuvenate; the flowers bloom; butterflies flutter in the spring breeze; the bees buzz busily about their busy little bee business and the robins flock into any tree which bears berries. Sometimes the robins get so drunk on fermented China-berries that they fall to the ground like dead men. They’re not really dead though, just dead drunk. On the other hand, spring also brings rain, storms, tornados and flooding.

Summer brings its insufferable heat and long lazy days. It brings drought and high electric bills. As children we walked the scorching gravel and asphalt streets in bare feet. The heat snaked  up from the pavement in transparent waves; striking us in the face like the heat from the devil’s hot breath; causing all who dared to venture outside to twist their countenance into the same squinty frown.  But we were out of school! And, the swimming pool was open.

The swimming pool opened up in June.  We would scrape up the $1.00 admission fee and maybe enough for a coca-cola and a hotdog.  We would splash swim play until the lifeguard blew his whistle signaling time for us to head home.  Then we walked home on the hot asphalt and gravel; hungry exhausted and ashy; looking like little phoenix’s who’ve just risen fresh from the fire’s hot, grey ash.

Then there’s autumn. For the children it is back to the grind of school.  But, autumn is also football, hunting and basketball season. It is the season with the most pleasant weather and the season when nature puts on her most dazzling display of color; splashes of red, orange, brown, yellow and green; the season of long, crooked shadows that lean drunkenly as if belonging to old, tall, leaning drunks. Autumn is the season which makes you want to say, in the words of Sophia from “The Color Purple, “I knowed they is a God.”

So now, I’ve once again, “fetched a compass”. I’ve gone all around by Robin Hood’s barn? What is the point of these verbal meanderings? Well, it’s all about “Seasons”; the seasons of nature and the “seasons” of life.

I constantly hear musings about what “seasons” a person is in; especially from my fellow Christians. We set watch for our “seasons”; our seasons of troubles; seasons of prosperity; seasons of healing; seasons of success in business and relationships.  When things are not going as we expect them to, we like to say, “It’s not my season yet” or “My season is coming; or “I’m entering a new season and my life is soon to change”; just as the seasons in nature change.

But the news here is this; in nature the different seasons come no matter what we do. The seasons come; unchanging, undeterred, and relentlessly chronological. Each year the seasons march incessantly forward because time marches incessantly forward and the seasons are inextricably interwoven with time. What changes is what we do in the season. The seasons are coming! Make no mistake about it. There’s nothing we can do to stop them.

It’s all a matter of perspective. There is no “good” season, not is there a “bad” season. There are just “DIFFERENT SEASONS”. Spring is no better or worse than fall, for all have their good AND bad points. What matters is what you do in the season; in “summer” do “summer activities”; in “winter” do “winter activities” and the same goes for autumn and spring.

Ecclesiastes 3:1, King James Version (KJV) says; “To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.” This verse tells us that there are things to do in every season, but you can’t do everything in every season. It doesn’t tell us to sit in the house all “winter” waiting for “spring”! We’re not to put our lives on hold while we await the proper “season”. We should do what we can in the season we’re in.

Jeremiah 8:7-8 says; ‘”7.) Even the stork in the sky knows her appointed seasons, and the dove, the swift and the thrush observe the time of their migration. But my people do not know the requirements of the Lord. 8.) “‘How can you say, “We are wise, for we have the law of the Lord,” when actually the lying pen of the scribes has handled it falsely?”’ What? Even the stork and the dove know what to do in their seasons.

Solidarity

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***For all of those who are grieving the loss of a loved one.

Today, I learned that my friend Paula’s mother passed away a couple of days ago.

If you haven’t already please take a moment to click on this link to show your support for her at this difficult time. After you click on the link, look for a post entitled “Grief.” In that post, Paula shared about her mother’s love of music. She also shared a video of one of her mother’s favorite songs.

Naturally, after reading the post, I offered my condolences and shared that my mother, who is deceased, was also a huge music fan.  I told her that I can vividly remember Mama playing records and singing when I was just a toddler.

At first, Mama sang to me.

Then I found my own voice and began singing back to her.

One of the first songs that we sang together was “Someday We’ll Be Together” by Diana Ross and the Supremes.

I haven’t played that song since she passed away because I knew it would be way too painful if I ever did.

But tonight, in order to show solidarity for my friend in her loss, I will listen to it for the first time since Mama died.

So, for all of you who are missing someone who has made their transition.  Please find solace in knowing that we will all be together again–someday.

 

For Paula and all of those who are grieving.

Always,

Lady G

😘💋

First of the Fall

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***From the “My Jams” Archives (1969)

“First of the Fall and there she goes back…”

Hot Fun In The Summertime by Sly and The Family Stone:  August 1969

One of my favorite songs of all time!

The piano intro is so haunting; it hits me smack dab in the middle of my brain’s wistful zone.

Strangely enough, I love that!

I live for the way Sly likens summer days to a magical lady that appears at the “end of the spring” and goes away before the “first of the fall.”

What an enchanting metaphor!

Can’t you just imagine this fanciful little golden sprite twirling in and out of our lives, bringing and taking sunny memories with her.

“…everythang is cool!!!”

🙂 🙂 🙂

And now…

I celebrate the Northern Hemisphere’s ‘re-entry’ into the gates of the Autumnal Equinox!

And, as a true lover of fall, I’m brimming over with majestic and sublime feelings of exaltation!

Welcome back Autumn!  Welcome back!

If you live in the Northern half of the world, why don’t you join me as I salute the return of crisp cool mornings, slanted afternoon sunlight and brisk evening breezes!

Go now and open the closest door or window; better yet, step outside!

Bid summer farewell and envision her as she pirouettes away on the melody of this jam!

 

 

Video credit:  Perry Cox PF93

Ah…wasn’t that exhilarating!

Oh well, my time here is up.

I’ll see you guys later!

Lady J and I have a date with “the first of the Fall!”

Much love as always,

Lady G

😘💋

***Remember, you can check out the entire “My Jams” series for years 1966-1996 by selecting “My Jams” in the music category.

 

 

They Came Back in My Dreams

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***This post is completely true; it is in no way fabricated.

Alright, I’ll admit that this picture is a bit of a fake out 😉

But look at it though, isn’t it befitting the Halloween season?

Oh well.

While the picture may be apropos for this time of year, it has very little to do with my own personal experiences with the paranormal.

Paranormal?  Yeah, you read that right!

I have had many personal experiences with this subject.

Coincidentally, I completed my B.S. degree at a college that actually offered Parapsychology studies in the Psychology Department.

I did NOT know that before I decided to attend (that wouldn’t have changed my decision by the way). LOL!

Back to my story.

Ever heard of Dr. Raymond Moody?  Go google him!  He taught at this college.

Ever heard of Newt Gingrich?  He taught at the same school!

Now that Newt thing is some scary shit 🙂

Okay, trust and believe that neither of these things have anything to do with my experiences.  In fact, my experiences all began well before I went off to college.

Anywhats…

If you read “My Jams ’95,” you may recall my sharing that I come from a family of seers.  You may also recall that my cousin, Ron, confirmed that such is the case. In fact, Ron shared that one of our aunts was born with the caul which, according to Southern folklore, indicates that she can see ‘beyond the veil.’

If you are interested in reading Ron’s perspective, feel free to scroll through comments in “My Jams ’95.”  He does a phenomenal job explaining the details.

Anyway, one of my new blogging friends, Tessa, inquired about my experiences; she was genuinely interested in learning more about it.

Well after I explained it to Tessa, it occurred to me that there may be others of you who are interested in the topic, so I decided to share more in this post.

Before I proceed, let me assure you that I am in no way interested or involved in occult/dark arts.  In fact, I am a Christian–Catholic, to be specific.  As such, I engage in Christian based prayer and meditation on a daily basis.

That said, I also realize that there is more to this world than most people think.

For me, I’ve seen people who have recently passed on in my dreams.

For some reason, they always come to me to let me know that they have made a safe transition.  Sometimes I see them in nighttime dreams; other times I see them in lucid daydreams.

On rare occasions, I have seen them as a fleeting physical presence–and when I say fleeting, I mean nanoseconds.

Most times they talk to me; often times they simply offer a comforting smile.

Now, before we move on, let me be clear, I do NOT see them prior to their passing–I am not psychic in that way and I thank God that I’ve ONLY glimpsed them after they have transitioned.

All in all, I have seen far too many to mention.

However, there are two instances that stick out in my mind.

First, I had a friend who passed away abruptly.  After his passing, I kept having recurring dreams of him asking me if I wanted to take a ride with him.

In these dreams, I’d be walking and he would drive up and ask me to join him. In fact, one night the dream was so vivid that I arose and started sleepwalking to the front door of my home.

My Mama, a perpetual night owl, noticed and asked me where I was going.  I responded, “I’m going with —–.”

At that point, she knew I was dreaming and sleepwalking so she walked over to me and told me to go back to bed–which I did.

Based on her own knowledge, Mama knew that this was not a good sign.

So the next morning she asked me to tell her exactly what I dreamed that night–so I told her.

Later that day, she shared the incident with a family member who interpreted the dream and told her that my friend was actually trying to take me back with him to the other side.

That was exactly what Mama had feared.

The family member then told Mama to pray for his eternal rest so that we both could proceed on our respective paths; him into the afterlife and me in this life.

Sure enough Mama privately prayed about it.

After that prayer, I never saw him again in my dreams.

Ever.

Here’s the wild part, Mama never told me about the dream interpretation or the prayer until many years later.

All I knew was that I had stopped dreaming about my friend.

Second, I had another friend to die unexpectedly in an accident.  We were very close.  In fact, we had had many deep conversations on life’s big questions.

Well, after she passed, she came back to me in a dream where she gave me a preview of my life and confirmed the existence of life beyond the veil.

Friends, I will never forget this, she said, “Gwin, it’s real!  There is life after you die!”

Believe it or not, she was able to ‘show’ me a scene depicting a beautifully bright and sunny day with people sitting together as if they were having a huge family reunion type picnic.

It was amazing!

Her parting words to me were, “Gwin, you’re gonna have a great life!”  She also said, “I will never come back to you again in a dream.”

It has been almost 30 years since my friend came to me in that dream and I have NEVER dreamed of her again.

Not once.

Are you still there?

Did you log off?

Gone over to another post or blog even?

LOL!!!

By the way, based on these experiences, my friend Tessa asked me if I thought I was a medium.

I laughed and answered, “No.”

Being a medium is not in my wheelhouse.

But with that said, I do have the gift of discernment and I am HIGHLY intuitive.  Some have said that I am clairsentient–meaning I am able to sense the present inner states of a person without any prior knowledge. There are people who are clairsentient that claim to be able sense a person’s past and future states.  I do not.

I stay in the present.

Because of this my friends often ask my advice.

Sometimes I see and say.

Sometimes I see and don’t say.

Never do I say without seeing.

In any case, I stay strongly connected to “Christ who strengthens me.” (Phillippians 4:13).

Oh yeah, here’s something interesting for seekthebestblog and The Time Tunnel followers.  My cousin Ron, is working on a book about a girl who once was.

It is set in Rural Georgia in the mid/late 20th Century and it is steeped in the paranormal.

I can’t wait until he completes and publishes it.

Hopefully, I have ignited something in him to encourage him to get moving with it!  LOL!!!

Now it’s your turn!

Have you had things happen to you that you can’t explain?  How about paranormal experiences? Let’s talk about it in comments.

In the meantime, I’ll park these right here:

 

 

 

 

A Day in the Life of the Ladies

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Arise and shine!

 

So, today I was inspired to create a photo journal entry to show you guys what a typical day looks like for me.  Actually, this is not the first time I’ve done this.  Some of you may remember a similar post that I did a few months back called “Everyday Randomness.”

Believe it or not, that post proved to be quite popular-hence my decision to see if lightning will strike twice on the same blog!  LOL!

And so….

Here’s a typical day for Lady G:

Ok, no lies, it wasn’t really typical since my daughter, L’il Miss Lady J, was out of school for fall break.

But please rest assured knowing that Lady J and Lady G had quite the interesting day 😉

Here’s how it unfolded:

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A quick stop at Fresh Market.  Lady G’s mother used to love this place; she liked all of the delightful aromas that tend to waft through the store.  Lady J and Lady G sampled the fruit infused water; they were not that impressed.

 

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They were, however, impressed with this little seafood salad smorgasbord:)

 

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And with this vibrant floral display
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Lady G was captivated by the wine selection. Lady J was…. NOT!
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Moments later, Lady J concluded that desserts were much more fascinating than wine.
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After completing their tour of Fresh Market, the two ladies proceeded to take a scenic ride to the Land of Elsewhere.
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Be aware that Lady G and Lady J are HUGE fans of Halloween.  That said, no September or October day trip would be complete without them taking a peek at creepy things.
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The ladies also enjoyed other sensory delights! 

Ahem…May I have your attention for a moment in order to share a couple of quick stories?

Thank you 😉

While shopping, Lady J and Lady G met a noblewoman who shared that she had been to Paris, France nine times!

Hmm… I sense that you are wondering what prompted this confession.

Well, it seems that she overheard the ladies talking about their dream to go to Paris someday.  Such being the case, the dear gentlewoman decided to encourage the two to keep that dream alive.

Her parting words to the ladies were, “Tell God your dreams and keep your hearts open; then you can do anything you want to.”

One thing’s for sure, magical advice seems to follow the ladies wherever they go!

Not convinced?

Farther up the road, the two ladies came upon a cashier  Duchess who wore the most glamorous makeup!  She also sported a shiny rhinestone headband with matching diamondy earrings!

Naturally, the ladies complimented this exquisite specimen on her beauty.

As one might expect, the cashier Grand Dame, who was about 70 years old, replied, “Thank you!”  But, she went on to say, “I always dress up because there was a time when I couldn’t…you know, between taking care of my sick husband and father…I find that looking good makes me feel good.”

Magical advice?

Indeed!

Shall we proceed?

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Even the most proper Lady must attend to certain mundane duties 🙂
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Upon arriving home, Lady G decided to retire to her ‘Magic and Creativity Chamber.’
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Ah…but then she began to feel a bit lunchy!  😉
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Nightfall!  Lady G and Lady J prepare for a sky gazing session!  It’s one of their favorite past times! To their delight, in the Southeastern sky, The Harvest Moon appeared! Sadly, LadyG did not take a picture of the moon as she has found that I-Phones are inadequate for capturing such majesty.
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Alas, the Dragon of Ragweed has decided to slay Lady G.  Notice the tired eyes and dark circles. Oh well! Time to take some Benadryl.  Good night!

 

 

Such is the magical life of the ladies!

😘💋

 

Ron’s Time Tunnel: Written In Stone

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When Gramp started to get old, she started to lose her short-term memory.  We didn’t know exactly what it was at the time, but looking back, I suspect that it was Alzheimer’s disease or Organic Brain Syndrome. In either case, it resulted in her experiencing a loss of her short-term memory. She could remember stories and events from decades before like they happened yesterday, but, she couldn’t remember yesterday.

Late one evening, I returned home on leave from the military. It was my first trip home since joining the Air Force in July of 1979. I knocked on the door. The porch light winked on and Gramp’s familiar old face appeared at the door.

I said, “Hey Gramp!” to which she cheerfully replied, “Hey there!”

But, she didn’t let me in right away.

So I asked her, “Don’t you recognize me?” to which she responded,

“Of course!”, but she still didn’t let me in.

So I asked her if she knew who I was and she answered,

“Yes! You’re my nephew Jack Mitchell!”

“I said, No Gramp, I’m your grandson Ronnie.”

Suddenly her eyes brightened with recognition and she said joyfully,

“Oh yeah! You’re the one in the Army! Come on in boy!”

In those days and in this part of the world, every military serviceman or servicewoman was in the “Army”, no matter what branch they really served in.

The point of this little story is this; In spite of health issues which impaired her memory, with a little prompting, Gramp could remember that her grandson was a military serviceman, even if she did have the wrong branch of service. That’s more than I can say for the United States Government and the politicians who, MIS-manage, MIS-lead and MIS-informs its citizens.

These so-called leaders have conveniently forgotten or broken the promises made to the U.S. serviceman and servicewoman throughout the years; promises that were written on paper, in the hearts and minds of the citizenry as well as IN STONE; promises inscribed in stone because of its proven durability; promises inscribed in stone because of its hardness and toughness.

Stone monuments, like the pyramids have endured for thousands of years. God even wrote the Ten Commandments in stone. Things are inscribed in stone so that we might never forget them and so that we would have constant reminders for eternity.

We have constant reminders of the sacrifices made for these promises in the Gardens of Stone like Arlington National Cemetery, and Andersonville.  A stone wall in the Lincoln Monument bears the following inscription from the Gettysburg Address; “BUT IN A LARGER SENSE, WE CANNOT DEDICATE-WE CANNOT CONSECRATE-WE CANNOT HALLOW-THIS GROUND. THE BRAVE MEN LIVING AND DEAD, WHO STRUGGLED HERE, HAVE CONSECRATED, FAR ABOVE OUR POOR POWER TO ADD OR DETRACT”.

It is important to note that President Lincoln did not forget the LIVING in his panegyric. The stone Tomb of the Unknowns bears the inscription, HERE RESTS, IN HONORED GLORY; AN AMERICAN SOLDIER KNOWN ONLY TO GOD.

The WWII memorial inscription, written in stone, says, OUR DEBT TO THE HEROIC MEN AND WOMEN IN THE SERVICE OF OUR COUNTRY CAN NEVER BE REPAID. THEY HAVE EARNED OUR UNDYING GRATITUDE. AMERICA WILL NEVER FORGET THEIR SACRIFICES. The words, DEBT, EARNED, GRATITUDE, NEVER FORGET and REPAID, stand out here.

The Viet Nam War Memorial is inscribed with the 58,286 names of the men and women who died or went missing in action to EARN our GRATITUDE. The stone wall of the Korean War Memorial simply states, FREEDOM IS NOT FREE.

We have memorialized the fallen servicemen and women in stone but some among us have forgotten the promises made to the living. Each year the once concrete promises made to our living, active duty servicemen, servicewomen, and vets is being chipped into dust. When I joined the Air Force, we were promised free medical care for life if we served twenty honorable, faithful and dedicated years. Well, now we have to pay for this service.

I’m not complaining…much; because the price I pay is meager in comparison to the civilian rates. But, it’s not free, as was promised.  Retirement pay, which once was considered sacred, is becoming an option on the chopping block of the politicians. What about the recent VA debacle, which saw veterans die while waiting for the PROMISE of medical treatment, EARNED in battle? We have memorialized the fallen but our political leaders have forgotten the living.

The word NEPENTHE refers to a legendary potion purported to have existed in the olden times of Greece.  This potion causes forgetfulness.  It would seem that our political leaders have become drunk on the “NEPENTHE” of power; of riches; of fame and of vanity, for they have conveniently forgotten the promises made in STONE and replaced them with promises written on glass and with invisible ink; promises that disappear or are easily broken at the whim of privileged civilians, who have never served a day of military service in their lives, for political gain and hidden agendas.

I’ve made this forecast before but I’ll make it again. As long as the benefits of choosing a military career balance with or outweigh the risks, the ideal of an “all-volunteer force” is secure. But, once the risks begin to outweigh the benefits, people will be less inclined to volunteer for military service and so consequently, recruitment will go down. When recruitment goes down, military readiness will suffer; when military readiness suffers, these same leaders will begin to explore other options to increase military readiness.

These options will be the death of the “all volunteer force; mandatory service obligation (the draft) will be at the forefront of the solution to the manning problem; then EVERYONE can lace up their boots; Simple logic, simple math.

This forecast may NOT BE WRITTEN IN STONE but the WRITING IS ON THE WALL!