Family Trip to Florida

Did you ever go to visit relatives you didn't know? When you were a kid, did your parents tell you to play with children you had never seen before? Why do adults think that just because you are all children, you will be happy to spend time together and that you will actually enjoy it?

My sister, Gay, and I were shy, uncomfortable with strangers. The year I started first grade, my mother and father and two of my teenage brothers took a rare trip to Florida. Mother missed her sisters, nieces and nephews and my father had siblings in that state as well. We would not have gone had it not been for the car my older sister's husband sold to my parents. It was fairly new and in good shape to make the long trip all the way to Miami with stops along the way. 

I'm sure we were gone for at least a week. My brother tells me we made stops in Orlando, Clearwater, St. Petersburg, Palmetto and on down to south Florida, but the only part of the trip that stayed in my mind was the night Gay and I were sent to sleep over with two girl cousins we did not know. Their family dinners were far different from the ones at our home on the farm. This poem tells the story of that unforgettable night.

Sleepover

When I was seven and Gay was five,

we traveled with our family to visit relatives

we'd never met.

I preferred a pallet on the floor

of Mother's room, but she sent us home

with Ellie who had children near our age.

At dinner Ellie's husband shouted words

we’d never heard. Shriveled by his fury, we

huddled small, wanting to vanish from the room.

Later in the darkness, beside a sleeping cousin,

I mopped my tears in silence and I wondered 

why my mother had abandoned us to strangers

she called kin.

                           ---  Glenda Council Beall

Coming Home to Winter Storm - Looking for Spring

This snow storm that has hit north Georgia and my home in western NC has stopped us all in our tracts. The ice is what gets us. In Roswell, GA where I have spent a few days with my sister and brother in law, I have been happy to stay indoors and enjoy the white woods through the large windows.

It is unbelievably quiet here although we usually hear cars on the street beyond the lake. No cars today. Everyone stayed home as they should. Schools closed and businesses shut their doors as well.

Mother Nature throws us these curve balls occasionally, and we have to slow our pace, stop and breathe slowly. 

Maybe that is why we have these kinds of days. Perhaps we have to be forced to slow down and realize that we don't have to get out every single day and do something. When the roads are so bad we might have a terrible accident, we remind ourselves that nothing is worth getting out in this mess, unless it is a matter of life and death.

As for me, I used yesterday to write and revise some work. I don't know where I'll send it or if it will see the light of day, but I did enjoy writing for an hour or two. 

I enjoyed having my sweet sister give me a shoulder massage that helped the pain caused by the damaged rotator cuff. She has also done Reiki, an energy healing on me a couple of times. I don't claim to understand it, but I do know it helps. My body has taken a beating with all the travel I've done recently.

My sister, Gay Council Moring

The trip to Florida this winter was harder than last year's escape to the sunshine state. Someone said the Karma was not right for me this year. I had health issues, computer issues, automobile issues, condo issues including losing my keys and AC going out. In spite of that, I loved seeing good friends and family, reading my poetry for a senior group, and speaking to a group of folks who want to write.

Sandy Beall and Richard Sauers, her interesting and fun husband

Tammy Beall and Sandy 

I loved the ride from Tallahassee to St. Pete with Sandy Beall, one of the most generous and kind women I've ever known. She also drove me all the way back to Atlanta and then flew home on her dime. We have known each other for about thirty years and have so much history together we never run out of things to discuss. She says she enjoys the drive and we made an overnight stop to visit a family we both love. 

This cold weather is bound to end soon. Spring is waiting with baited breath 

to jump out and surprise us, I'm sure. 

When we least expect it, we will see 

a robin in the yard, a humming bird 

will hover on the deck searching 

for the feeder he frequented last year. 

The sun will come back and warm us. 

We will forget the cold of February, 2014.

What Makes You Happy?

Recently as cold weather settled in on us in the mountains of North Carolina I was toasty and warm with the heat going full blast, wrapped in a soft throw and being so grateful that I don't have to live in a drafty house with only a fireplace to warm me.

My mother and father lived in that kind of a house when I was a small child. I doubt that it got down to six degrees in south Georgia, but it did get cold and the winter wind found its way through the walls, around windows, and under doors. Fortunately our new house built the next year was tight and adequately heated.

I appreciate my parents who struggled to make sure their children had a better life. They managed to survive the Great Depression, World War II, and still enjoy life. When I hear people today whine and cry about how bad this world is, I have to smile. Everything is relative, isn't it?

It seems to me that no one has enough. The wealthiest want more and more material things. They don't enjoy what they have because they live in fear that they will lose it. The poorest don't have enough to eat or a place to sleep. They want more, and would love having what the wealthy man owns. What he has would be enough, the poor man thinks. But if he had what the wealthy man has, would that be enough? Do we ever have enough? Can we be satisfied with what we have? Can we enjoy today and not be scared of what tomorrow will bring?

I am satisfied with what I have, and I am grateful for all I have. When the icy wind is blowing outside, and I am warm and comfortable with hot chocolate on the stove, gratitude for what I have sweeps over me like a soft breeze. I know there are homeless people who have no shelter from the cold. I know some live in cars or sleep in boxes on the street. I know children who ate from dumpsters because the family had no money to buy food.

I don't need more than compassionate and caring family, good friends, and my health to realize what is really important in life. In the past few days concerned friends called to make sure I have all I need to be safe and warm. My sister called to check on me. I could tell she was worried about me being alone after she saw frightening weather alerts on TV.

Soon I will go on vacation in Florida where some wonderful friends give me the use of a condo. But that is not all. One of them will fly north at her expense to meet me and drive me down to the condo. She will likely drive me back as she did last year. 

That kind of friendship is what is really important. Having people in my life who care about me -- people I love -- that is what matters. 

Recently I asked on my Facebook page: Do we learn more from joy or from pain? As for myself, I think I have learned in the past five years, through all the pain of loss, what I really need in life and what I must have to live a happy life. I don't believe we have to have the biggest house, the finest of furnishings, the nicest car, the most fashionable clothes or find celebrity and fame. I think what we must have to be happy is love, people who sincerely care about us, a safe place to call home, respect for ourselves and anticipation for our future endeavors. Doing for others also rates extremely high on the happiness chart. 

As a writer, I have one more thing that makes me happy -- the ability to express my thoughts, the opportunity to communicate with others. It is a need that must be met every day, in some way, large or small. So I post on my blogs, scribble in my journals, and fill long pages of yellow legal pads with various and sundry words that eventually are transcribed to files in my computer. At times those words find their way to a publication that reaches more people. That also makes me happy. 

What makes you happy?

A Post from Florida Last Winter

I spent time in St. Petersburg, Florida last winter and visited cousins and friends throughout the area. I hope to go back this winter and visit more places I've not been before.
I wrote this post while there.
Friday, January 20, 2013

My father, long before I knew him, lived in Palmetto, FL with his brother Charlie and worked on Charlie’s farm. In fact, that was when my daddy fell in love with growing crops. Those days produced in him a dream of someday owning his own land.

Sitting around our large dining table, my brothers and sisters and I heard the tales of life in Palmetto, Florida with Charlie, Verta and their family. In his letters to my mother before they were married, my father described the work he did and also the fun he had on weekends. He mentioned going to the beach with other young people.

Uncle Charlie's daughter, Monteen, in her nineties on the right in white.

In my father’s time, the beaches were open to the public.
Weekends meant fish fries on the sand, and young people gathered to dance and flirt with each other. Daddy pretended to Mother, in his letters, that he never had fun and just went along because his sister and his friends were there. With little to do for entertainment, a night in summer on a warm beach with good food and lively young people must have been enjoyable. Today one would be hard-pressed to find a public beach. The high rise hotels own the waterfront.

I try to imagine what it was like in the nineteen-twenties here in this now metropolis with tall buildings and  traffic. I understand that St. Pete has quite a few millionaires and some billionaires living in mansions around this town. I remember hearing about traveling on the Tamiami Trail. In my childish mind I pictured it as a path through woodland. Today I saw a sign for the Tamiami Trail, a wide highway not far from my cousin’s house

For years I heard about Pinellas County where my aunt Oleo and her family lived and also Manatee County. Driving into Tampa and seeing the signs with those familiar names, bring back to me the voices of my aunts and cousins. Because of them, I feel a kinship with this area.

My father finally brought my mother to Palmetto to live and their second child was born there, but she never liked Florida. After a few years she persuaded him to take her home to Pelham, Georgia where she would be near her family.

Today we drove to Clearwater where both my parents once had kin.
We went to the Marine Aquarium to see Winter, the dolphin that was injured and rescued. She had to have her tail amputated and a prosthesis made for her. That is some story. A movie has been made about Winter. I had the chance to see her up close and fell in love with her as everyone does.

On a visit to Palmetto, we saw this giant whooping crane walking on the road.

One day I met one of my cousins for lunch in Tarpon Springs. We ate outside overlooking the water and the boats. A beautiful day with a beautiful soul, my cousin, Pam.

My pretty cousin, Pam, talking 

Those times when Daddy was a young man and lived here seem like light years ago. But those were some of his happiest times. He never tired of talking about his older brother and the other people he knew back then. One of his friends, a relative, was John Council who would eventually become publisher of one of the  newspapers in this area. Daddy said John was one of the handsomest fellows he had ever seen and was a “dandy” with the women. They were "running buddies" for a short time, I think.

I'll always remember, after Aunt Judy moved back to Florida in her later years, she would say, "Florida tomatoes just aren't as good as Georgia tomatoes." I think she had to buy her tomatoes in Florida from the grocery store, but in Georgia, she ate the ones grown by my father in his garden. Fresh beats cold storage any day of the week.

So many things seem familiar to me here, but in truth, I've only heard about them in stories passed down from older generations.That is what we do. Like most families, we tell stories in one way or another, and have been doing this since the beginning of time.

Florida holds some of my history.

Tampa Bay

I spent time in St. Petersburg, Florida this winter and visited cousins and friends throughout the area. I wrote this post while there.


Friday, January 20, Everything is Familiar because I’ve heard the Stories.

My father, long before I knew him, lived in Palmetto, FL with his brother Charlie and worked on Charlie’s farm. In fact, that was when my daddy fell in love with farming. Those days produced in him a dream of someday owning a farm.

Sitting around our large dining table, my brothers and sisters and I heard the tales of life in Palmetto with Charlie and his family. In his letters to my mother, my father described the work he did and also the fun he had on weekends. He mentioned going to the beach with other young people. I remember him speaking of the Tamiami Trail. In my childish mind I pictured it as a path through woodland. Today I saw a sign for the Tamiami Trail, a wide highway not far from my cousin’s house.

In my father’s time, the beaches were open to the public. On weekends the young people gathered on the sand for fish frys. They danced and flirted with each other. Daddy pretended to Mother, in his letters, that he never had fun and just went along because all the others were there. Today one would be hard-pressed to find a public beach. The high rise hotels own the waterfront.

I try to imagine what it was like in the early twenties here in this now metropolis with tall buildings and  traffic. I understand that St. Pete has quite a few millionaires and some billionaires living in mansions.

For years I heard Mother and Daddy talk about Pinellas County where my aunt Oleo and her family lived and also Manatee County. When I see those names on signs I can hear my aunts talking about this land, and my father knew the names and landmarks mentioned. Although he lived in the area off and on only a few years, I could tell he had fond memories.

Today we drove to Clearwater where I  had kin on both sides of my family. I don't know any of them well enough now to find them. We went to see Winter, the dolphin who had to have her tail amputated and a prosthesis made for her. That is some story. A movie has been made about Winter. I had the chance to see her up close and fell in love with her as everyone does.
 
When Daddy was a young man and lived here seems like light years ago. But those were some of his happiest times. He never tired of talking about his older brother, his sister, Annie and her beau, and the other people he knew back then. One of his buddies was John Council who would eventually own one of the big newspapers in this area. Daddy said John was one of the handsomest fellows he had ever seen and was a “dandy” with the women. Could my father have been a little jealous of John? He never sad he was, and he enjoyed hanging out with John.

So many things seem familiar to me, but in truth, I’ve only heard about them in stories passed down from generations. That is what we do. We tell stories in one way or another and have been doing this since the beginning of time.