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.

How can we make our life a lesson for others? This is a good time to try..

A reader sent these words to me: Like the ripples on the surface of a pond, your words have effects far beyond those you first see.

At times I feel as I did when I taught elementary school children. "Am I making any difference? Does what I say or do have any effect?

But then I receive emails from people I hardly know, and I realize that my words reflect who I am and in doing so, total strangers find me approachable. 

I have had emails from my blog readers who said they were writing to me because they had no one else to talk to, and they thought I would understand. And after writing, they said they felt much better.  

I would not be any more pleased if I had written a best selling novel.
To know that I come through in my writing as a person who cares for others, is the reason I write. Empathy and compassion are the two most becoming traits in my friends. 

I met with a person whose book I am working on, helping her prepare it for publication, and we sat and talked for two hours or more. I learned how we are similar in many ways, although we see some parts of our culture through different lenses. 

I find her to be a deeply thoughtful person who cares for others but doesn't always understand those who are in need. I smile when I think about her saying, "Why do they need ten handicapped parking spots in front of the gym? There are not that many handicapped people in there at the same time."

But I see why. Handicapped doesn't necessarily mean people who must use a wheelchair. I have a handicap placket on my window. I can't walk long distances, and if all the reserved places are taken, I leave and come another day. I don't need a wheelchair, but I cannot walk a long distance because of hip and knee problems. My respiratory disability comes under the ruling for Americans with Disabilities Act. 

My physical therapist and I were in our local grocery store at the same time. I was in a mobile grocery cart. I smiled and waved and so did she. She is young, athletic and is a runner and a hiker. When she saw me a few days later at my physical therapy appointment, she chastised me. "Did I see you riding while buying groceries," she said. She is constantly telling me, "Glenda you have to keep moving."
"Yes, I always ride because the store is large and floors are hard on my feet. I am afraid I will be somewhere in the store when the peripheral neuropathy hits my feet and makes me unable to walk. I would have to sit on the floor until someone came to fetch me." I don't look like I have any problems. I almost always have a smile on my face, but the invisible illnesses we often endure have to be planned for. 

Some of us who have breathing problems, either COPD or Multiple Chemical Sensitivity as I do, find we don't have the stamina to walk the entire grocery store lanes, so we use the mobile carts. We might look healthy, but many of us have what is called "invisible illnesses."

Instead of being judgmental of others and assuming the worst, I wish people would assume that anyone parking in a handicap space has to use it because they have a disability of some kind whether it is visible or invisible. The driver might open her door, get out and walk, unattended into the store. But if you follow her, you will likely see her find a motorized cart which she uses to make her way around the store to shop. She might have arthritis which is extremely pain when she walks.

We are so quick to jump to conclusions before we know the facts, the truth that we can't see. In the coming months and years, many of us will suffer effects of this pandemic both mentally and physically. We hear that often this virus damages organs in the body and have a permanent affect.

I hope we will all be more sympathetic with our friends and with total strangers. 

We are suffering grief, frustration, fear and anxiety because of this virus that has swept not only our country but the entire world, and the prognosis is not so good. The experts say that many more will fall ill and die in the next two years. That dire prediction weighs heavy on all of us. 

I have benefited from the outpouring of love and caring of many friends and family. I have tried to reach out to others who are alone and sad, and I hope my readers know I am grateful for you and your comments on my blogs. Communication is extremely important now although we might not feel like talking on the phone or writing to a loved one. When we reach out to others, we also benefit in different ways. I like to use USPS and send notes, cards and long letters. I hope others like to do that. Over 60 percent of Americans said on a poll that they suffer desperate sadness from being alone. We can help those who are alone by simply giving them a call or sending a newsy email. What other ways can you think of that will brighten someone's day?

We will survive just as our parents and grandparents survived terrible wars that left them rationing food, and staying home, losing jobs and holding their families together under dire circumstances. 

My parents lived during the Great Depression with four children to feed and clothe. They still spoke of the good times they had with Aunt Judy and Uncle Jim who came over to visit. The four of them played croquet in the yard. Simple things can be more fun than big expensive items if we are with the people we
love or enjoy.

I believe we will come out of this better than we were.

I like the quote: Live your life in such a way as to be a lesson for others. 
We can all do that, and in that way make a better world.

Carroll Taylor and Woody the Duck

Last year my friend and fellow writer, Carroll Taylor, and I were discussing the animals in our lives. Like me, she and her family have had animals, birds, and other critters and each of our animals usually has a story.

Carroll writes novels for young adults. She also writes plays and short stories. 

She posted a story on her website journal about Woody the Duck and I want to share it with you today. You will laugh.

Here is the link.

Do you have interesting stories about animals in your life? 

I would love to read them. 

Music in Our Blood

HUGH BARRY BEALL and his mother, HELEN ALEXANDER BEALL

Helen Beall was the best mother-in-law anyone could have. She was smart, sweet and generous. She adored her son, Barry, and when I was with them, I felt that love that eventually spilled over to me. Helen and her friend Ann owned Helen Ann Dress shop. She enjoyed going to Market in Atlanta and bringing back dresses that were perfect for her customers. She would call and tell them what she had for them and they rushed down to the store in Rockmart, GA to purchase their special clothes. 

I never went to visit the Bealls that Helen didn't have some new clothes for me. She bought me underwear, pajamas, and finer clothes than I could afford on my teacher's salary. Of course, she had paid wholesale so they didn't cost her as much as they would have cost me in a retail store.

Helen was a graduate of La Grange College, the oldest private college in Georgia. She was the daughter of Roy and Myrtice Alexander, the couple I wrote about recently who brought movies to the rural community where there was no movie theater. Helen also played a musical instrument. Barry came by his love of music from her. She encouraged him to play in the band.
I was in awe of Helen because she could do everything, much like my friend, Mary Mike. She took care of her three boys, Barry, Richard and Hugh, and her business, as well as her house and yard. She cooked delicious meals, baked desserts that melted in my mouth. She loved to grow things and was an outdoor person. Like Mary Mike, Helen enjoyed mowing her grass. She appreciated the clean neat look after each swipe of her riding mower.

Helen and her husband, Hugh, had a place at the lake in their county. Barry and his father drove the boat and Helen water skied behind it. She was in her fifties when I met her and she blew me away with her energy and activities. 

My dear mother was much older than Helen and lived a completely different life style. Helen was closer in age to my sister, June. Barry loved to make his mother laugh. He made me laugh, too, and I miss that so much. I loved that he loved his mother so very much. Helen taught me that accepting is as important as giving. I learned that she enjoyed giving to us, and we should accept her gifts graciously. 

When I was young, I felt inadequate when around Helen. I was twenty-four when I married Barry. I just knew I could never be the wife Helen Beall was and wondered if Barry expected that of me. I worried that his mother might think I was not the kind of woman he should marry, but it was all in my mind. 

As years passed, Helen and I became closer and when she had surgery in her seventies, I stayed with her for a week. I thought I would be helping her, but she got up each morning and made breakfast for the two of us. About all I could do for her was keep her company, and I think she really appreciated that. She had no daughters and her son, Richard was divorced soon after Barry and I married. 

After we built our dream house in Albany, Georgia in 1975, Helen drove down and spent Christmas with us several years until she felt she couldn't make that long drive anymore. When I think of my blessings, Helen Marie Alexander Beall is one of the greatest.

1992 -- Barry Beall, dressed for church standing in our yard in Albany, Georgia. Barry was raised in the Baptist Church in Rockmart, GA. He sang there and his mother was a pillar of the church. But I had joined the Presbyterian Church and he did, too. He never went back to the Baptist church.

1995 - Barry, Glenda and Kodi, the Samoyed on the cover of Paws, Claws, Hooves, Feathers and Fins.

This was our first Christmas at our mountain house. We were so happy. Our dream had come true. We had moved to the beautiful mountains and we loved it.

The Singing Disciples of the United Methodist Church in Hayesville, NC

Barry is second from left on second row. Many of these wonderful voices are  silenced now. Some of Barry's happiest times were singing with this group of men. They were very good and their songs were not always serious hymns. They sang some rousing tunes that made the listeners want to clap their hands or pat their feet. Barry's dear friend, second from end on right side of back row, invited Barry to sing with the group although Barry was directing our choir at the Presbyterian Church. Later, the preacher of the Presbyterian church, second from right on the middle row, joined the Singing Disciples, too.

Barry formed his own band in high school. He played drums and trumpet and was the soloist. He was a voice major in college. Music was a major part of our lives. He played guitar, and I often heard him singing and strumming a guitar on our deck. He owned several guitars, a banjo and a mandolin. He could play enough piano that he impressed lots of mothers who bought Baldwins from him for their children when he was with Zoellner Music in Albany, Georgia.

Tonight I am watching and listening to Michael Buble' sing the wonderful classics I heard so often in my youth. He sings the songs Barry liked to sing. 
My husband was a terrific singer and the biggest fan of Frank Sinatra and music of that age, so I often listened to that music with lyrics written by experienced and talented song writers. The words made sense and the melodies crept into your mind, hung there until you found yourself singing along with the radio. So different from most of the music I hear today.

Listening to Michael Buble' I could feel myself slow dancing to the easy sounds, my head on Barry's shoulder and his arms around me. I have missed this music, but I learned I can ask Alexa to play Buble' on Apple music.

Ah, music. It brings back the best memories. Do you have special music that brings back good memories? I'd love to hear them.

A Child's Escape to the Barn

My readers, my friends, know that I grew up on a farm in southwest Georgia. I loved the barn on the farm. As you can tell in this poem, I found lots to be interested in. The smells, the light and darkness, the animals and just the atmosphere was comforting.

A Child’s Escape to the Barn

By Glenda Council Beall

I enter the barn through the corn crib.

Flour dusts the floor around the hand mill.

Gray mice feed on cracked kernels;

either very brave or too greedy

to notice my intrusion.

The fragrance of cottonseed meal,

heady in my nostrils, tempts me

to see if it really tastes like toasted nuts.

Light shoots into darkness through narrow

crevices between wide rough boards.

Rays seek out the spiders' lacy traps

lining corners, the angle made by roof and wall.

Chickens, fat and full, sit placid,

in straw-filled boxes hung high above

the ground, protected from predators

except one that coils, swallows their eggs.

Musty smells arise from the lot

where hard-worked mules munch on grain

in troughs held fast to cured pine walls

by hammered twenty-penny nails.

I climb the ladder to the loft.

Wide eyes of feral kittens peep

from behind bales of hay. They skitter

away, tails aloft, straight as flag poles.

Tiny English sparrows twitter and flit.

Some nest on rafters under the eaves. 

I’m a natural born citizen of this place

but they have made a home here.

Without warning a summer shower pounds

the tin roof, runs off and wets the black mix

of dung and dirt, serves me up an odor rich

with life. I'm overcome with contentment.

This poem and others similar to it will be included in the book, Paws, Claws, Hooves, Feathers and Fins, by Estelle Darrow Rice and Glenda Council Beall. Use the contact box at the top of the Sidebar to order the book at the discount price of $14.00 plus $3.00 S&H

This lovely creature has a story in the book.

I am interviewed by Joan Ellen Gage. You can read it online.

I hope you will take a minute and read an interview with me published on Joan Ellen Gage's site.

http://www.joanellengage.com/2015/03/interview-with-glenda-council-beall.html

Thanks so much, Joan, for posting my poem and for the interview. I interview others most of the time, but it was nice to be the interviewee this time. 

Guest Post for Robert Lee Brewer's blog on Writers' Digest site

I don't often seek out guest posting opportunities, but recently Robert Lee Brewer, Senior Content Editor, Writer's Digest Community placed an invitation on his blog asking for anyone who had a good idea for a guest post to send him an email. I did, and he requested I write the post and send it to him.

He published it today. You can read it here.

The poet  Karen Paul Holmes, is the subject of my interview and you can read that interview here. 

Karen Paul Holmes, author of Untying the Knot

What do you think? Would you rather read a review of a book or read an interview with the author?

MEMORIES ON MEMORIAL DAY WEEKEND

Thank you, my friends, my readers, for taking the time to check out this blog and for leaving your thoughts and opinions as well. I am especially grateful to those who subscribe and have my latest posts arrive in your email inbox.

I am planning to have a restful and relaxing Memorial Day weekend. I remember it was Memorial Day, 1995, when Barry and I moved here, to this house. It was a major turning point in our lives and the beginning of a completely new life for me. So much has happened to me since that time. So many happy times, and so many losses in my life since leaving my childhood home and moving to the mountains. At times I can't believe how different my life is today - how different I am now. The manner in which we accept or handle changes creates the person we become. I hope most of the changes in me have made me a better person, a better sister, a better friend and a better teacher.

I notice that I do get on the nerves of my sisters sometimes. (smile) For that I'm sorry. I wonder if they prefer me as the person I was seventeen years ago or the person I am today.

That's a good prompt to write on this weekend. Do I prefer the person I was to the person I am?

With summer upon us, we all have many things going on in our lives. I look forward to another writing class I'll teach at TCC beginning June 5, 2- 4 p.m. 
I also anticipate lots of fun when The Festival on the Square , July 13,14 is held in Hayesville. Netwest will have a booth this year. We will meet tons of folks and I hope, if you can attend, one of them will be you.