HOW BEST TO SPEND OUR TIME

As we try to meet deadlines and keep appointments in our daily lives, we now are told not to forget to maintain our prominence in Social Media. Facebook requires attention every day. 

I hardly ever visit Twitter, and now I learn there are more and more new sites popping up we should be aware of and using. Some say blogging is dead, but I notice folks on Facebook link to their blogs or the blogs of others. What can you say of value in a few words on FB or Twitter? I don’t use much of my time on Facebook, playing games, or checking out the latest trend. Writing, teaching, being with friends, mentoring and assisting others by sharing what I can with them – that’s how I spend most of my time.

No one would believe she is an octogenarian, and this photo is right after a bout of illness

Several hours this weekend my older sister, June, and I cleared her desk and went through her boxes of keepsakes, mementos from her long life, re-reading letters we uncovered, letters from Mother, from dear ones who have long passed from this earth. Together we reminisced as she pulled out pages of her life and mine to be discarded or to keep when she moves into assisted living quarters next month. Those handwritten pages from long ago, notes on Mothers Day cards and birthday cards, college report cards, and newspaper articles, tell of one family’s history. I understand her reluctance to throw them away.

We found a poem written for Mother in our brother’s handwriting, a letter to a daughter from her birth mother – these are valuable words in remembrance of and by those who will always be a part of our lives. 

While there was a tinge of sadness as we traveled down memory lane, doing it together made it less painful and even fun at times. I was happy to see my sister’s beautiful smile when I left. The past two days was a learning experience, a valuable time for me. One of Oprah’s wise sayings is, “Make your life a lesson to others.” One day I might be where my sister is today, and she taught me how to make the best of it. She showed me one of the best ways to use my time is sharing it with my loved ones, not twittering, tweeting or leaving blurbs on Facebook for people I’ve never met nor am likely to meet. 

Sometimes, even when we think we have it all together, we realize we can continue to learn more about ourselves.

Have you had an experience that opened your eyes to something new?

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What do you do when...

Come on, tell me. What good old home remedies work for head and chest congestion that hangs on and on?
I've tried the whiskey and  honey in the little bottles that a friend told me about a few years ago. Pershaps I've not used enough. Tomorrow maybe I should drink two or three of the little chaps.

I was advised today to boil honey and lemon juice and then add whisky. Cool and drink. How often? How much?

I smell like Vick's because I rub that on my chest every night.

My mother cured my sister from double pneumonia many years ago with a poultice of tar and tallow. She called it a tar and tallow plaster. I was too little to remember the event but Mother described in detail the night she and her neighbors sat up with the dying baby. She described it as a miracle. I wrote that story a few years ago and it was published in an anthology.

You have stories also you can write about and you can publish. I'll begin a new class in June at Tri-County College on Writing Life Stories. If you live in the area and like to write about your life experiences, call the college and register. I'll give more details later or you can go to http://www.glendacouncilbeall.blogspot.com/ (Writers Circle) and learn more.

Once a Week, Maybe Only on Sundays

Unless I am home for several days, under the weather, I am going to limit my blogging to one day each week. I will try to write more of substance in the future. I hope you will drop by when I have something new.

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Come over and leave your comments, please.

Sleep, Spring, and Super Bugs

After two days of fighting a respiratory bug that seemed invincible, I lie in bed tonight with Tiger on the pillow beside me, the rain pelting the new leaves on trees outside my window. My hope is that rain washes all the pollen away and I can open my windows again.

April, considered to be the beautiful month spring really begins, is usually a tough month for most of us who have allergies. Instead of digging in the dirt, planting flowers, and enjoying the vibrant color of the forests, the dogwood, and oodles of other trees I can't name, I watch from inside - inside my car and inside my house.

To fight the symptoms of allergy turned ugly, I take over the counter antihistimine which gives me a strange "I don't care about anything but sleep" feeling. I realized today, in that state between total sleep and aware-of-someone- in-the-room, I could hear that a tornado was about to hit my house and I'd just pull the covers over my head and ignore it. I hate being drugged. I don't like feeling I'm not in control of myself.

DRUGS AND CREATIVITY
All those writers who drink and use drugs because they think it makes them more creative, well, I could not be one of them. I don't refuse pain pills when I hurt, but I'd rather deal with it than be unstable or unsure of myself. Guess I could never be a junkie.

I had to cancel my class tonight. I am sorry that three students did not get the message and showed up anyway. I missed seeing them and hearing what they had writen this week.

I can't keep my eyes open another minute. Sleep is healing, they say, so I expect to be well tomorrow.

Young Harris College Students and Heifer International

Young Harris College, right across the line from my home in North Carolina is a college I'd recommend for anyone who seeks higher education. They are now a four year school.

I receive newsletters and invitations to events there. I know people on staff and know the integrity of those people.
In a recent newsletter I read an article about ten students who went on an alternative spring break, not the kind that makes news on TV. These young people went to a farm in Arkansas and learned about something they had only heard about - real poverty. This program was part of Heifer International, a global nonprofit organization that strives to end poverty and hunger in a sustainable fashion.

Click on the link below and see what these students did and what they had to say about the experience. I am impressed with them and their school.

http://www.yhc.edu/pages/yhc.php?id=1943&utm_source=Mountain+Lines+April+2012&utm_campaign=Mountain+Lines+April+2012&utm_medium=email

Books, Writers and Poems on My Mind Today

Blue Ridge, GA covered in fog on Saturday morning

Having had such a stimulating weekend at the Blue Ridge Writers' Conference in Blue Ridge, GA, I can't settle on one subject to write on today. I'll just mention a few ideas, books, people, and moments that grab me.

1. Rick Bragg's essay in Southern Living. In the very back of the magazine (the present issue is not online yet) he writes a column called Southern Journal. Some of you know that I have strong feelings about saying thank you. Rick, spurred on by his wife to express his gratitude with thank you notes, sent letters to Mr. Airline Executive, Mr. Fancy Restaurant Owner, and my favorite, Mr. Satellite Television Service Operator. Rick is one of my favorite authors. If you like southern literature by a Pulitzer prize-winning writer, find his books and begin reading. And if you have ever had a gripe with the airlines, a restaurant, television service or computer and Internet service, you might want to read Rick's letters in the April 2012 Southern Living magazine.

2. A book called Writing in Style by Bobbie Christmas, writer and editor for more than 30 years. She not only answers questions about grammar, but her advice is current, 21st Century. She incorporates contemporary technology. 

3. A Memoir: Invisible Sisters by Jessica Handler whom I met Saturday at the Writers Conference. I attended both her sessions and found Jessica who lives in Atlanta, to be extremely knowledgeable about writing. She teaches Creative Writing and hopefully we can host her at Writers Circle soon. Her story is about losing both her little sisters from illness, and growing up the only surviving child in a family torn apart by devastating loss. I have only had time to skim the book, but I feel it will help me make decisions of what I need to include in my own memoir which I continue to write. A writing exercise in class became an Aha Moment for me.

4. My Grandfather's Hands, poem from Scott Owens' book, For One Who Knows How to Own Land. I was immediately in love with Paternity, the first of Scott's books that I ordered, and I feel that way about this new book, but in a different way. One poem is so graphic, Slaughter, that it was hard to read, but the poem about his farmer grandfather's hands takes me back to my roots, to my father's hands. I studied Daddy's hands when he didn't know. Burned by sun, so brown they didn't seem to belong to his white arms beneath his shirt sleeves, his nails that never could be completely clean, and the south Georgia dirt that embedded the cracks in his fingers -- I could see them in Scott's poem.

Cat stories - Tiger is a special Cat

I am passionate about animals, especially dogs and cats and horses. Today I met a lady at an assisted living facility. Beside her on the pristine sofa sat a black weiner dog, so well behaved I was amazed.

She said dogs were allowed in this lovely place and I was happy to hear that. I hope if I am ever living in such a place that I will be able to have a little dog with me.


I lost my beloved Rocky to a terrible illness that seemed like a brain tumor. Tiger my cat now rules the roost at this house. She follows me around the house and sleeps in the room I settle in. At night she likes to be on my bed. Although she has a pet door, she has trained me to get up and let her in and out. I think cats have extra powers that humans and dogs don't have.
I read a wonderful story by Gary Carden about his cat, Booger.
You can read it here. http://hollernotes.blogspot.com/2012/03/saga-of-booger-my-cat.html?showComment=1332909690609#c4432190223459307634http://hollernotes.blogspot.com/2012/03/saga-of-booger-my-cat.html?showComment=1332909690609#c4432190223459307634




Below are some photos of Tiger, resident cat at Writers Circle.

Coat looks lovely since she began eating chicken tartar

Tiger slept on top of a cassette player with a makeup bag on top of it. She found this a refuge from the visiting dogs

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.

Three Princes of Poetry - all in one place

Carole Thompson, Robert S. King, Mary Ricketson, Scott Owens, Glenda Beall

 It is late and I'm almost asleep, but I wanted to report that we had a great time in Sylva, NC tonight. We read and heard some terrific poetry.
Scott Owens has the most marvelous new poetry book, published by FutureCycle Press. One Who Knows How to Own Land. Isn't that the best title?
Many of us know what a terrific poet Scott is, tonight we had a surprise when Ron Rash dropped in to tell us how much he admires Scott Owens' poetry. Ron Rash was at Western University this week talking about his newest book. 

This is what he says on the back of One Who Knows How to Own Land,
“Landscape and memory are seamlessly merged in this excellent volume. Like all the best writers of place, Scott Owens finds the heart’s universal concerns in his vivid rendering of piedmont Carolina.” —Ron Rash, Parris Distinguished Professor in Appalachian Cultural Studies at Western Carolina University

I felt like I was in the room with royalty - at least the princes of poetry - Ron, Scott and Robert King. I was almost embarrassed to read my poems, but I had the satisfaction of knowing that Robert had chosen two of my poems for his FutureCycle 2011 Anthology and Scott has published a couple of my poems in Wild Goose Poetry Review.

Mary Ricketson is always a pleasure to listen to when she reads her thoughtful verses and Carole Thompson read both humorous and serious poetry. One of her poems won second place in a National DAR contest. We all had a good time tonight.