Tag: Arkansas
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The Real Santa Claus
At the height of a Colorado mountain snowstorm, the real Santa Claus blew in through the rustic front door of the main lodge at the YMCA camp in Estes Park on Christmas Eve 1969. It took two bulky men leaning against the door to get it closed from the inside as they fought the wind…
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Dera Lee and the Fish Knife
Of all the stories I could tell you about a mother on this 25th anniversary of her sudden death, I will choose it to be about the fish fillet knife she carried for protection. You’ll have to wait though, because there’s a prologue. You’ve heard folks talk about “karma” and the concept of “what goes…
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In the Light of Goldie
Louella Goldie Westmoreland lived 32 years, never married or became a mother, did not know the enjoyment of a good book or scintillating after-dinner conversation, did not attend school and was dependent on her loved ones to care for her. A high fever as an infant immediately changed her life and the lives of her…
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A Thousand Little Dots
Her name was Betty Ruth Flynt but I called her Barf. You can’t buy good friends like that–ones who will lovingly call you, “Barf.” I figured since I was not allowed to utter the middle name “Ruth,” that “Barf” was the next best choice as her initials were just asking for it. Junior High. What…
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Trees of Life
To plant a tree is to begin a memory. I’m a big believer in the power of growing plants along with growing the family. A measure of a kid or two or three or four can be marked right along with the rings of a tree I’ve left here and there across our pathway. And…
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Francie’s Chicken Salad
She was a tiny little old white-haired lady from New Jersey whose energy defied her age despite her occasional smoking and addiction to daytime television. And she was my first best friend in Arkansas. The memory of how I came to meet Francie is murky but it feels like it was somewhere on the upstairs…
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Real Estate Bird
Right in the middle of writing a different blog post (a pretty dreary and potentially depressing one) I thought, “Hey, let’s lighten things up a bit.” We’ll start with the basics. Parakeets can talk. And fly. Twelve-year old girls aren’t always smart. But they mean well. The summer of 1974 was monumental. We, our giant…
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Under the Dining Room
Fifteen year old girls are not known for their willingness to accept change. I know this because I’ve been one and I’ve mothered a few. It’s a crummy age to ask certain things of this particular section of the population but life happens within families and sometimes happens in a big way. Occasionally 15-year old…
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Diesel Brakes
For a couple different reasons I’m going to have to drop you right down into the middle of this scene without giving you the background. You can get the prequel later. In 1978 when I was a teenager, we were living on the first floor of an old 5-story hotel building that had been converted…
Beyond Lashley Lane 