Angels walk among us - The Flood of 1994

Moving and going through boxes, I found some photos from years ago in Albany, GA. I will share some of them today on this blog. The recent flooding in Ashville and the mountains of western North Carolina brought back all the anxiety and helplessness I felt when we had a huge flood in SW Georgia.

In 1994 Gay and Stu had just moved to Atlanta where Stu began a new job. His father had recently died in Chicago. They had lived in Albany for approximately twelve years in the Radium Springs area on a street with big trees and great neighbors. They were about ten miles from Barry and me. Their house was empty of furniture and on the market to sell.

In July, the Flood of 1994 in Albany, Georgia was a catastrophic flood caused by Tropical Storm Alberto. Thousands of homes and businesses and thousands of people were displaced. Thirty-one Georgians were killed.

The Flint River crested at 43.82 feet, 23 feet above flood stage. 

The floodwaters submerged entire sections of Albany in up to 12 feet of water. You will see in the photos I share how high the water came up in the Moring's house. 

 

The floodwaters washed out roads and closed bridges. The casino at Radium Springs was damaged so badly that it never recovered. One of the favorite places in Dougherty County was eventually purchased and demolished by the state of Georgia. This was not the first time the Flint River had flooded in Albany, but it had never reached so far and into so many communities. 

The floodwaters caused a dam breach at Lake Blackshear near Cordele. With all that water coursing down the river,  Albany was hit hard. And worst of all, the water did not move out. The flooded homes and businesses were still filled with water two weeks later.  We could not get to Gay's and Stu's house for a long time. 

The Georgia National Guard was activated and responded to the crisis in Albany. The Georgia Air National Guard was dispatched to Macon to help with water purification. The Marines from Marine Corps Logistics Base Albany helped with disaster relief efforts. Many residents lost everything they had. I am so grateful my loved ones had already moved their belongings out of the house. But soon we were able to walk inside and see the horrible damage done there. 

Our local newspaper, the Albany Herald, was filled each day with information on how to clean your house, what not to do, and what you should do.

We learned that in some houses, only the sheetrock that was wet needed to be removed. So Barry and I and the Morings spent one weekend cutting and removing wet sheetrock in every room. The kitchen appliances, of course, were damaged and must be replaced. We were overwhelmed. 

Gay cutting out wet walls and floor coverings. 

It was hot. No airconditioning. Barry working.

Gay and Stu could not be present except on weekends, so I did what I could and was overcome with joy when a volunteer group of people who helped in such disasters arrived at the house. The first group that helped us was from a Presbyterian Church in Fayetteville GA. 

Some of the first ones to help with cleaning out the house.

Glenda with volunteers and a pile of debris from the house

But the angels who came next were from a Methodist church in the Carolinas. They were all adults who moved in, set up bunk beds, and began gutting the entire house. We did not need to come back until they finished. I wanted to bring them food or do something for them, but they refused. 

 You have done enough, I was told. Now let us take care of it. 

They were experienced in such disasters and it was evident that we would never have been able to repair the house. The good news is they made that house like new and the Morings were able to put the house on the market and sell it. I have driven past the house some years later and no one would ever guess that it had been damaged by a flood.

These wonderful people who go out and help in floods, fires, or whatever calamity hits, are surely angels unaware. I think I have known other angels unaware that they were more than typical human beings. 

To learn more about the horrors of this flood, read this article in the Albany Herald.

Many people in western NC are still without homes and need help. We need to make donations to the funds that are helping there. I try to do that as often as I can.

I am eternally grateful for those who can and will jump in and do what is needed for their fellow man. 

Be safe, my friends. The bad weather will hit us again soon. 

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Christmas Lights After the New Year

Big oak trees on the farm where I grew up. Great shade for cows

After a frustrating few hours trying to get my car registered in Georgia but to no avail, I finally learned I had to contact North Carolina DMV.

I can't get a Georgia tag for my car unless I can show them my title which states I am the owner of my car. The document must be from NC showing where my car was registered the last time.

This was only the second day of aggravation for me and for Gay, my sister. We sat in a room with about 100 people waiting to see someone who would help me get a title and Georgia tag for my Toyota.

I was sick with a bad cold, but I had to get this before registering for my new car insurance. Another of those Catch Twenty-Twos. After two-plus hours of misery, my number was called. When I sat in the chair in front of the booth and told the woman behind the counter my dilemma, she promptly told me she could not get a replacement title, and without the title, I could not get a tag.

"This car is registered in NC where you just moved from. You will have to get your title from North Carolina." 

Remember. I was sick with a cold that had my nose running constantly. I was so miserable. My response was, "Why didn't someone tell us that? We expected you to get the replacement title. If we had known you couldn't, we wouldn't have wasted over two hours sitting in a hard chair with all those people." 

But, even though I was feeling so bad today, I got dressed and went to lunch with Gay and Lee, my niece. I knew I would feel better with them than sitting at home stewing. And that is when my day became brighter. When the three of us get together we laugh and crack each other up with our comments. 

However, the highlight of my day was tonight when Stu wanted to take us out to eat. We went to my favorite place, Slopes, in Roswell where I had the best fried catfish. 

On the way home Stu suggested we look at the Christmas Lights still up in many places. Most of them were beautiful, but once in a while, we saw a fallen angel or reindeer lying on the ground. Gay saw a set of pretty lighted deer in a yard, but tonight one of the deer lay on its side with only half the lights burning. He looked more like a camel now with a wide saddle of absent lights on his back. A setting of large snowmen was missing one on each end as they sprawled on the lawn.

Once lovely trees covered with hundreds of lights now had gaps in the coverage. A tree might seem to have a hole in the middle because the lights were missing. We began laughing at the conversations we imagined inside those big beautiful houses. 

"Dad, Look outside. Some of the lights on one of the trees are out." 

"Mom, Dad said we're gonna take down those lights in a few days. He said there's no point in trying to make them work now."

"But they look stupid now."

Balloon Christmas yard decor

I could imagine couples discussing the condition of the yard decorations, the balloons meant to be aloft. Big balloons that looked like characters from books lay half-empty on the lawns. I imagine the big gusty winds we had a few days ago played havoc in the yards of prominent people with fancy decor.

In our yard, a big gust swooped down and lifted the lightweight carport covering my car, and dropped it on the side of the roof. Within minutes, as I stood watching a second huge gust came in and lifted the carport again, dropping it down to rake across my Toyota, denting in a fender and scratching a long line across the trunk. Before we left the house, I asked Stu to take my car out of the carport area and move it across the yard as far from the "flying car umbrella" as it could be taken. And now my car is out of harm's way, I think. 

Life has its ups and downs, but when I am with Gay, Stu, and Lee, I am almost always laughing or feeling good. 

One day soon, my car will be registered with a Georgia tag. One day soon, I will have new insurance for my car with an agent here in Georgia. But tonight the laughter and love I enjoy with my family makes me smile and tonight I will sleep well. Tomorrow is another opportunity to enjoy life. 

Gay with Stu who is holding a giant Elephant Ear leaf in Hawaii.
picture by Glenda Beall

https://profilesandpedigrees.blogspot.com/

New Year's Eve 2024

Glenda

It is New Year's Eve in Roswell, GA and I am having a quiet time at home. 

I will be preparing Lexie for the fireworks that will begin soon. It terrifies her. She usually hides under my bed, but I am going to make her hiding place more comfortable tonight. I will put her bed and her cozy blanket there. I will play quiet music that I hope will drown out some explosions and shrill sounds. 

I am excited about the coming year. As I recover from the past two years, I hope for more interesting things in my "city" life. Over the holidays, I was included with Gay and Stu for a couple of parties where I met women who told great stories about their lives and the lives of their ancestors. Everyone has a story, and a unique story, to tell. I hope to do some readings and programs in this area.

Beginning in February, I plan to schedule writing workshop classes again, on Zoom. This year I want to include my writer friends as instructors for Writers Circle Around the Table. For ten years I had a writing studio, with that title, in my house in Hayesville, NC. Almost every week, we held a workshop in poetry or prose. We had outstanding writers come and teach at my studio. I had a guest room in the studio with a private bathroom. There were some kitchen necessities. The visiting men and women said they enjoyed staying overnight and sitting on my deck in the morning listening to the sounds of nature as they wrote down their thoughts.

Joseph Bathanti, NC Poet Laureate from Boone was a favorite. Robert Lee Brewer of Writers' Digest publications was another welcome instructor. Scott Owens, a good friend, came over from Hickory NC to do a reading and teach a class once or twice each year. 

Poet Scott Owens

I feel sure more writers and poets of their caliber will take part in an online class. I will share a portion of the profit of these classes with the NC Writers Network-West.

Remember, with Zoom, it doesn't matter where you live. You can participate from your own home or school or anywhere you have access to a computer and WiFI. 

If you want to be on my mailing list for announcements of classes, please send an email to me using this info: gcbmountaingirl(AT)gmail.com. Write Classes in the subject line.

Wishing all of you a healthy and happy New Year. Be grateful you have another year in which you can reach out to others, share your time and talents, and maybe change a life for the better.

Up Early, and Take My Advice, Please

Sleep alludes me most nights. No matter what time I go to bed, I can't go to sleep until 2:30 or after. 
Going to bed is not easy for me. Before I turn in, I take a bunch of pills. 
With a heart condition and Diabetes I never miss my night time ritual. And, if I have been sitting for a long time, hours, I wake up with pain in my back, legs and feet. 

This morning, my diabetes sensor awakened me. It is incessant. I can't ignore it. When I checked, my reading was 69, too low. At the same time, I had sharp nerve pain in my feet. I had to get up, eat something with carbs, and take pain meds, stretch, and use heat and ice for my back and feet.

Although I didn't get enough sleep last night, I can take a nap today. No appointments on my calendar! 
Great. I will finish my Christmas Cards and get them in the mail today. Christmas is almost here.

Life is Good.

Even though I have frustration and problems every single day, I am grateful that I have a lovely home provided for me. I am so thankful to be living in the same house with two people I love who seem to want me here. And---they love Lexie, which makes all complete. 

She usually sleeps late and gets up when I do, so this morning, when I had to get up early, so did she. Now she is back asleep in a chair, one she has chosen to be her own, with her blanket. I love that little girl. 

Sleeping Beauty

Dealing with Customer Service drives me Nuts!

For weeks now I have spent hours and hours on the phone with employees of companies I used to use at my house in North Carolina, but no longer need. I realize I made a huge mistake many years ago when Barry and I signed with Frontier Communication for our landline telephone. We made the awful mistake of signing for the company to take our monthly fees directly from our checking account. 

It was a no worry answer to paying my bill on time each month. But all the worry has come now when I realized I have been paying this bill months after I called to cancel it and four months after I sold my house. I don't get a bill each month because I don't need to send in a payment. It comes up on my bank statement. For months I had overlooked the fact that Frontier was taking 80 plus dollars out of my bank account even though I had called and canceled the account. 

Then the problem began. I called Frontier, waited for a long time to talk to a human being who said my account had not been cancelled because I had not produced a PIN for that account. Believe me that was the first time I had heard anything about a PIN. The person on the phone could not help me. So I turned to my bank and found they are limited in stopping an automatic payment from my account. The best they could do was stop payment on the last month's withdrawal. Needless to say, my week has been spent mostly on struggling with Frontier personnel who all said the same thing. And here in December, they have taken another payment for a phone that I don't have from an address that has not been mine since September 4 when we closed on the sale of the house.

The good thing is Frontier has a record of my call to cancel back in May 2024. Finally, today, in desperation while dealing with yet another employee, who had me go to the computer to receive some information I had to complete, she said. But her email never came through.

 At that point I was tired and about to scream. But instead, I told this woman on the phone in a very angry tone, "I know it won't matter to you or change anything, but I have a heart condition and breast cancer which gives me lots of stress, and now Frontier is going to give me a stroke."

She was quiet for a minute. I said, "I am sure there is someone there who could take care of this problem."

"Hold on a minute. Let me talk to my supervisor." The line was quiet for awhile, then she came back on and said, "It's handled now. You will be refunded immediately for the past three months and then we will refund to your bank account the rest that is owed you."

Now, if they will do what they say, I will be most happy. But why didn't someone do this a week ago and before I spent hours on the phone with those who said they could do nothing to help me until I produced a PIN? Just speaking to her supervisor took care of it all, but no one, and I asked to speak to someone else, but not until I told them about my health issues did anybody care enough to help me.

It is this kind of frustration that drives me crazy. 

And I have run into more than one since making this move. My message to you is NEVER sign an automatic payment plan where they can take your money directly from your account. Sales people will push you to do that, but don't. 

I am a big fan of Clark Howard who has helped me with another fight with a big company, and he advises to never sign an automatic payment plan like I did. 

When others have heard about some of these problems with big companies that won't refund what is owed me, I have been told, "Well, that is too much trouble. I would just let it go. Forget about it."

But, I don't have an income where I can just give away over $500 to those who would take it from me.

Be safe out there, my friends. Hope you are having happy times during the holidays. 

Know who to trust.

POETS AND WRITERS bloom and grow in far western North Carolina

Carroll Taylor, Lorraine Bennett, Marcia Barnes, seated at table with their new books.

When I see how many writers in our part of the state are publishing and selling books now, I am sure our NCWN-West founder, Nancy Simpson, would be all smiles. 

Twenty-five years ago, Nancy and I had the same goal. We wanted to make our local writers' names known throughout the state.

In the far south-western part of North Carolina in the southern Appalachian Mountains, this area was often forgotten as most natives and transplants thought the state ended at Asheville, a lovely town where tourists flocked every year. Sadly, this city recently suffered horrific damage from Hurricane Helene. Clay County where I lived for the past thirty years and neighboring Cherokee County were bypassed by Helene. 

Before I moved to Hayesville in 1995, the few serious writers in the area drove to Atlanta, a 2 1/2 hour trip, when they wanted to attend a meeting of writers, where they could share their work and get feedback. They were five or six teachers from Young Harris, GA and from Clay County, NC. One of them, Betty Sellers, eventually became Poet Laureate of Georgia.  

Today writers and poets meet every week in one of the local towns. The Moss Memorial Library has been a huge supporter of writers in Hayesville. But Georgia counties, Towns, Union, and Fannin, which are included in NCWN-West, also host writing groups. I am delighted that Coffee with the Poets and Writers which is a group I began as Program Coordinator the first time in 2007, is going strong and many new writers attend the free meetings and join NCWN, which makes them members of NCWN-West. 

Richard Cary, a member of NCWN-West, was featured at the December meeting of CWPW. His new poetry book is ready to order.

Brenda Kay Ledford will release a new book in the spring. 

David Plunkett recently published a book of poetry.

I know that Nancy is smiling as I am. 

Where do we go now?

Like many people I know, I am very disappointed in the outcome of the presidential election in the USA. I am disappointed that we still have a culture that doesn't recognize the equality of women to men. I am especially disappointed in the women who voted against a very well-qualified woman who was by far the best candidate. 

I enjoyed the lack of chaos this past four years with Joe Biden leading the country. How nice it was to have a man of good character in charge. He has had fifty years of experience in government and could work with both sides of Congress and he did. He worked to help all people against a Congress that fought him and still, he passed laws that created more jobs than anyone had in years. Everywhere I go, I see businesses begging for help. They need workers and some have closed because they can't get the help they need. Where will they find people who will work in fast-food, wait tables, work night shifts or bag groceries? Those workers have found better easier jobs that pay more. 

When our workforce has jobs and makes a living, the country does well. The entire world suffered from inflation after the Pandemic, but our country has done better than any of them. However, the average person didn't see that. They just saw prices were high at the grocery store and they blamed President Biden who has spoken about steps the administration has taken to increase consumer choice and scrutinize what he called "mega mergers" that reduce competition.  Bill Clinton explains it so well.  I am amazed at the people who think a president can wave a flag and fix everything that is a problem in a country. There is lots of red tape to get through before changes can be made. So many people have to agree before anything happens. I learned that from reading Barack Obama's memoir.

But the voters in our country voted for leadership that is biased against many of our people especially women. It seems only rich white men of dubious character are going to run this country now. All the middle-class or economically challenged folk who think this man and his party will do anything to help them are so foolish. The first thing they will see is the cutting back of social services for those who need them.

Medicaid, Social Security, and Medicare will be targeted. All of these programs that help so many people, were created by the Democratic administrations of years past. How will it hurt us? Cutting out most of the labor force employed in these programs. Just like he did with the US Postal Service, the president-elect will cut back on employees, and we all can see what a mess our postal service is in now.  We get mail four weeks old if we get it at all. Eventually, that whole department will be gone. I am told by some postal workers that the Georgia system is the very worst. I have been told it is best to ship a large envelope by UPS if you need it to arrive on time.

The Department of Education is already on the chopping block. Does that mean the states will have no oversight? Local School Boards will go back to favoring the wealthy white people and the schools in the poorer neighborhoods will be using old second-hand worn-out books and facilities that are understaffed and undermaintained. I grew up with those kinds of schools in Albany, GA. If you want to know more, read Pat Conroy's book or see the movie made from it. 

I was a child and eventually a teacher when blacks and whites were segregated in schools. That would still be true if the Federal Government had not stepped in and passed laws so states like Georgia could no longer treat people of color so inhumanely. 

I don't usually voice my political opinions on my blogs. I don't hate my friends who voted differently than I did. My true friends are good people. Many men in my family, I'm sure, did not vote for the woman candidate for president. Sadly, some men who did not vote for Trump just didn't vote for either. 

I don't think I will live long enough to see a female president of the United States and I am sorry. But we have good men who could do a better job for the people than the one the voters put in office. Maybe they will step up next time. Maybe by mid-term elections, our citizens will have opened their eyes. 

I never thought I would see the day when a felon, a criminal, or a convicted sexual offender, would sit in the Oval Office. 

I am free to voice my opinion on my blog, and I will not publish nasty, mean or hateful comments so please don't waste your time.

Childhood Happiness and Dreams

What is Happiness?

 "Try to be a rainbow in someone's cloud." –Maya Angelou.

When someone asks, “Are you happy?” I want to answer, “Right this minute? This week? Yesterday?"

Because I don’t believe anyone is happy all the time. Even when I was a child, I was not happy all the time. 

First, I had older brothers who loved to tease me. They often made my life miserable, and I had a father who seldom seemed happy. He was always worried and serious about the farm, the future of the farm, and the business he and his sons had built together. I believe he had an anger management issue. He was quick to take off his belt and whip one of his sons. In those days corporal discipline was accepted at home and in schools. Being compassionate and also concerned for myself, I often ran to my room and cried.   

Gay, my little sister, and I played together every day, and I enjoyed that. I suppose I was happy then, but I never asked myself, “Are you happy?”

 

My baby sister, Gay

Looking back, I remember having such fun playing with the bottles, my sister June’s cosmetic bottles on her dresser. We had to hurry and put them all back in place before she arrived home in the afternoon.

June Council my older sister

I was a happy little tyke when I rode Charlie, the big white horse, led home from the field by my father. After a long hot day of plowing the hard-packed dirt of South Georgia, both man and horse were wet with sweat and tired. But I felt like I was the king of the world sitting high on the horse, higher than I had ever been, and looking down on my father and all the world around me.

 

My love for horses never ended. As a teen, I borrowed a horse. 

The ride to the barn was short. There I was lifted off the horse, and Charlie was put into the large stall in the center of the barn. I don’t remember anyone ever brushing him or wiping him down. He was fed in a trough hanging on the wall of the stable and he could go outside to a water trough, a large syrup kettle which had been used by some farmer who raised cane and made cane syrup at harvest time each year. I never knew where it came from.

Glenda and Gay ready for school

 

I became terribly unhappy when I went to first grade at Mulberry Elementary School in east Albany. It was fine the first week. I enjoyed swinging in the large swing set on campus at recess. I learned to read quickly. I was placed in the reading group with the faster learners. I read the entire reading book right away and then class was boring. I hated to have to sit while others read haltingly about Dick and Jane and Spot, the dog. Run, Spot, run. Run, run Spot.

Looking back, I think that was my problem. At six years old, I was just bored with school. Reading was all we studied in first grade, and I found myself sitting and staring out the window most of the time. As I stared out the window, my mind wandered back to the farm, to my little sister, and to Mother. I became so unhappy I began to cry. When Mrs. Pate noticed me crying, she asked, “Glenda Lou, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

I told her I didn’t know but I wanted to go home. And that was the beginning of many years of being unhappy in school.

At home, once I learned to write in third grade, I found my happiness in writing stories in my composition book. Once I learned to read books that had once been read to me, I filled my time each summer devouring as many books as I was allowed to get off the bookmobile that came to our house on the farm. I lost myself in books about horses.  

Misty of Chincoteague by Marguerite Henry was published in 1947. When I learned to read, I devoured that book. The Black Stallion and The Black Stallion Returns by Walter Farley are two vintage books that were my favorites when I was a child.

My creative mind took me to places I had never been and had me doing things I had never done. I was happy then. I made myself a seat in the Chinaberry tree in our backyard and I would sit up there with birds around me and write stories about horses. 

I imagined a life with a horse of my own. That was my greatest desire, my own horse. I felt I would be completely happy if I only had my own horse. It would be many years before that desire was met.

Writing Classes and Enthusiastic Students on Zoom

One of my writing classes at the John C. Campbell Folk School in 2016

My students, four women and one man, have learned so much about writing personal essays or creative nonfiction, that I am blown away with the stories they write. Almost every one is publishable and I hope it will be shared with others because the writers have a message that will relate to many readers.

Some write about painful experiences, and people who have hurt them. I encourage my students to make the reader feel their pain using words they choose. 

Another’s pain is not funny and is hurtful. In our culture today, comedians make fun of and disparage others to get laughs. Cruel humor is popular and not smart, in my opinion. Humiliating and shaming others is mean-spirited and not entertaining either. When people feel comfortable in a group, they will write about these things, and it is often cathartic. My students try to make each piece entertaining as well as enlightening. 

We have stories about family pets. In these classes, the students write about themselves, and other people in their lives. They often express feelings they might have never shown before. 

I gave them a prompt requiring them to make lists. They list people; family, friends, teachers, people who hurt them, and people who were good to them. They list places where they lived, and where they visited. From the lists, they find they recall memories often buried in time, but spark their creative minds to write a story. 

One of the stories was so touching it almost made me cry.

A woman came to this country and after nineteen years gained her citizenship. She had hoped for dual citizenship but at the time, that was not available. She was elated and excited to become a citizen of the United States and happy that she could vote in the next presidential election. This was back in the nineties.

She registered to vote immediately after becoming a citizen. This wife and mother is a perfect citizen in her community. She volunteers at schools and other places where her community needs her.

The writer of this story comes from European ancestors like many who came and settled in this country.

She stood in line and waited for her ballot to vote in the presidential election along with many others. But when she reached the table to pick up her ballot, she was told she could not vote.

She felt the prejudice. She was embarrassed. She stood her ground and would not leave. “I am registered to vote,” she told the woman behind the table laden with paper forms. 

There is more to the story and how rude the election workers were to her, but she insisted she be allowed to call and get verification of her registration. She had to use the phone at the voting area and one person refused to help her, but another gave her the number to call.

This writer said she has empathy for black people who have often gone through this kind of humiliation and rejection. She was the subject of outright prejudice. Although she is Caucasian and fair-skinned, she had to fight to get her opportunity to vote. She assumed the prejudice was due to her accent, although she speaks perfect English. I wonder how many people had this kind of treatment in the recent election.

I urge my students to enlighten the reader as well as entertain and inform. She said she never goes in to vote that the memory of that day doesn’t come back and hurt her. We all connected with this lovely person who shed tears as she read the ending of her story.

I don’t know why I am so fortunate to have these interesting and intelligent students in my classes, but I look forward to each time we gather and enjoy seeing the bond grow between the students as they learn more and more about each other.

Next Tuesday night will be the last of the three classes in this session. I told the group that I would not teach again for a while, but they were insistent that I do not wait too long as they want more classes. That makes me smile. 

The Old Life Ends

Glenda and Barry at Chimney Rock in WNC mountains

Finally, my house is sold and someone else lives where I spent the past thirty years, the happiest years of my four and one-half decades with Barry. 

Our first Christmas in our mountain house with Kodi

When I think about why I was so happy in the mountains, there were many reasons. For the first time, Barry and I were completely alone with no family members near us. I had not realized that living close to most of my family, which was involved in our lives, we never felt alone with each other. I remember one night close to Christmas, Barry and I sat on the floor in front of our blazing fireplace in our large living room on the farm. It was to be a romantic time for us. We drank champagne and there in our darkened room with only the forests surrounding us, we felt a deep closeness. 

Suddenly a loud knock at the front door startled us. He looked at me and said, "Just ignore it. They will go away."

But next, we heard a voice, "Glenda, it's Max." I knew my brother would not go away. He knew I was home, and he wanted to see me.

Our romantic moment was shattered. We had to open the door and invite him in.  He had no idea he was intruding on our quiet time. 

Barry and I lived on the family farm with my three brothers, their families, and my parents. All were within walking distance of each other, and Max often took a walk at night and ended up at my door. I never knew when he would appear after dark and expect to come in and talk awhile.

But when we moved to the mountains into our "tree house" where we sat on our deck among the high limbs and leaves with a wide view of sky above us, we delighted in being totally alone. We knew no one in the county and liked it that way. For the first time, we depended only on each other. We had no one second-guessing our actions, or our lifestyle, watching us. I had no big brothers telling me what I should or should not do. The men in my family had always been in charge and I was used to taking their advice.

The homes on the farm, often called the compound, were a small community of 10 adults, and several children, who felt it important to know everything about each other, good or bad. My sisters-in-law seemed to find fault with each other and found a listening ear in me. I became the confidant they felt safe to open up to about whatever was their latest gripe. I loved all of them and tried to be sensitive to their complaints. I never betrayed their trust as I knew they needed someone to whom they could vent with no consequences. 

I am sure you understand why being alone in our mountain house made such a difference in our lives. I am happy to be a part of a large family and all seven of us were close, but being super sensitive as I was in my younger days, I felt their resentment toward each other like an invisible blanket when we were together as a family. 

The brothers worked together every single day and Barry worked with them. They had their own relationships to manage. Often my husband came home frustrated and upset over something that happened between him and one of my brothers. I always listened. I sympathized, but too often I tried to make him see my brother's point of view. That did not go well. Looking back now, I wish I had supported him in his differences with them, but in our family, we are prone to try to fix every problem. I stressed out over his problems because I could not help him. So he spent twenty years dealing with my family but learned that sometimes when he wanted to get a plan accepted, he had to make his ideas seem like they were my brothers' ideas. 

Those years in the western NC mountains were calm, and unworried most of the time, and we finally got to know each other as we had never done before. I feel that peace even now remembering us sitting on our deck in the dark listening to the night sounds all around us. Looking at the stars above and loving each other and our lives together.

We always had a furry friend with us who made our family complete. First was Kodi, our beautiful and sweet Samoyed. Later, Barry rescued Rocky after 13-year-old Kodi died. He was definitely Barry's dog. They communicated silently but always understood each other.

There was so much love in our home, that I could hardly believe how happy I was. Both of my parents had died before we moved off the farm, and soon after, my dear brother Ray died. During the years I lived in our mountain home, my four brothers died, and my older sister, too. Those were sorrowful times that we shared with each other. Barry's only brother also passed away.

Still, we had many joyous times with my sister, Gay, and her husband, Stu. Barry and Stu were so close they seemed like brothers. Our vacations together each year were highlights that we talked about every time we were together. We still often remember the fun we had and sometimes it brings tears to our eyes as we miss Barry.

Barry and I bounced back from surgeries in Atlanta hospitals. One doctor told me he was positive I had colon cancer. I was in the hospital for a week after surgery but did not have cancer.

In 2008, after months of pain in his knee, Barry was diagnosed with lymphoma. A tumor grew in his leg just above his knee. We were assured by doctors in the city that it was a common ailment that could be treated and was no immediate threat. He died in 2009 after months of horrible pain which I will never forget.

I was sure my days of happiness were gone to never return. I wished I had died with him. I could not see how I could go on. Grief overcame me and anger seethed near the surface of my emotions. I was rude and self-pitying. But I finally found a way to move on. 

After much soul-searching I decided to do what I enjoyed best. With help from good friends and family I remodeled my large daylight basement and created a writing studio. My plan was to teach classes and to bring in good writers of poetry and prose to teach at my studio. It turned out to be an excellent business for me and all our local writers signed up for classes. That was a big turning point in my life and I accepted the changes I faced without Barry.

At this time in my life, I am facing another big turning point. I have moved to the city and must learn new ways to live. I have learned my deficiencies, where I need help and when I should ask for it.

 As I recover this year from a fall that caused a broken shoulder and surgery to replace it, I grow more confident in becoming independent again or at least as much as possible. I am happy to be near my family. With my sister, Gay, my niece, Lee, and their husbands, Stu and Dave, I always have someone to call on if I need them.

Although I miss my mountain house, I don't have the stress of keeping it up, the costs of repairs and maintenance which I could not do alone. This morning I sat on my deck overlooking a lake and enjoyed the coolness that followed the hurricane that whipped through Georgia last week. My little Lexie is happy here and always near me. 

In October I will teach again online. I have goals and plans for the future, a reason to get up each day. I continue to work for NCWN-West and keep in touch with my friends and fellow members of our large writing organization. I see good things happening for them in the coming year.

I hope your days are happy and healthy. Until next time, be kind.