IT TOOK THREE

In my earlier blog I mentioned that I occasionally babysit my sister’s cat, Pepper. Well last week happened to be one of those times, along with taking care of my granddaughter, Claire. Yep, I got a double whammy. I will say on the most part all went well. Pepper is not too fond of being picked-up and carried, but seemed to hang in there for the most part, especially when Claire wanted to use Pepper for imaginative play. He actually started winding his way among Claire’s toys. (Claire loves Pet Shop pets and pet furniture and it looked as though Pepper did too.)

Last week I had a follow-up appointment with the eye doctor and called Strawn who was vacationing in Puerto Rico. She was headed home early and begged me to bring Pepper. Very reluctantly, I agreed. My last experience of traveling with Pepper was not the greatest. My sister Peggy and I not only had a hard time catching the cat, but the trip was filled with a volatile aroma beyond mentioning on this blog. I will simply say that for over two hours we both held one of those baby-wipe Kleenex tissues up at our nose and periodical would take a whiff into the tissue.

Anyway back to the story, Strawn had specifically said not to let Pepper see his travel carrier and all would be fine. So per her instructions we left the carrier outside the door. Claire and I gathered our stuff throughout the day and placed it either in the car or by the door. When Jim came home we preceded to finish packing the car. Lastly it was time for Pepper, per Strawn’s instructions, which was going to ride in the front seat. (I WAS THRILLED!) Evidently the cat is smarter than we all thought for we had an all-out search party of three trying to find him. Claire finally checked under my king-size bed and found him in the middle area to the very back and unreachable.

Treats, urgent and soft calling/pleading etc. simply did not work. So I undertook plan two…long-handled objects to push him out into Claire/Jimmy territory, where they could GRAB him. Finally, I had to go for more desperate measures. I got my long-handled, battery broom vacuum and turned it on to add sound to the process. (I am here to tell you that the underside of my king-size bed is very clean.) Via Claire’s directional instructions (How blessed it must to be young and able to get down on your belly and look under the bed.) I was able to place blockades on each side of the bed. Along with Claire and Jim at each post, I maneuvered the broom back and forth under the bed. The only way out was at the foot of the bed. In the meantime we shut all doors to all areas of the house, but “DA” did not close the bedroom door. It worked…BUT! Pepper came out and immediately headed under the dresser.

At this point I need to stop and inform you that all three of us were reluctant to put our hands under that dresser. Pepper is known to bite and none of us wanted his feline teeth getting a piece of us. Before any of us could come up with a plan that cat managed to run past the three of us and he headed towards the dining room. He found refuge under the dining room table. (Note! Three of us…four sided table.) Again, he got away and headed for the living room and under another table…..thank goodness this table was against the wall and limited his running space. Still reluctant, I knew I was going to have to be the brave one of the group. Reaching towards him on my end of the table, Pepper lunges towards Jim ,who with quick reflexes, pushes his hand down and over the top of Pepper’ head/shoulders and pins him to the floor, while Claire runs to get his carrier. Gritting my teeth and taking a deep breath I picked him up and I quickly placed Pepper in Jim’s hands, which in turn quickly places him into the carrier. By the way, Pepper weighs a ton and is extremely heavy for a cat.

Furthermore, Strawn could not understand why we had so much trouble catching HER cat for she has no problems whatsoever. Well, HELLO, who does he belong to…? LOL

Surprisingly, Pepper behaved well on the trip home. Of course, Claire and I kept a running conversation going to each other and anyone on the phone who would talk/listen to us as we traveled to Pepper’s home. (Two hours steady of chit chat) We would pretend we were talking to Pepper and, periodically, I would unzip the top of the carrier and cautiously give him a rub or a scratch on his head or behind his ear. (Pepper likes to be scratched, not petted).

Although not a cat lover, I will admit that I do/can tolerate Pepper. He is a handsome cat, although moody and unpredicable. He can be quite entertaining. He loves to play with his toys and Tulula (A lively, white fluffy dog which belongs to Karen, a friend of Strawn's). He's a bird watcher. He also likes to sniff the computer, loves the sound of a printer, and chews on cat nip, etc. Pepper will actually stand up to Buddy, Jay and Lacy's dog. I really do not mind occasionally taking care of him, but unfortunately he does not exactly care for me. I guess cats really do have a great sense of…

PART II--A DIFFERENCE OF NIGHT AND DAY

Note: I placed a few extra pictures on MAPA’S Post.


My Dad's Mom was totally different than MaPa. Her family was the Strawn Family, from Ottawa, Illinois. She, like MAPA, had only one child. (This is one reason Mom and Dad had four children. They both wanted sisters and brothers when they were young.) Both our grandparent’s husbands had also died young. Notice the title of my post is ‘GRANDMOTHER’. We four sisters were told in no uncertain terms that we MUST call Dad’s Mom, Grandmother. Grandmother Frances was a very smart, talented, formal, stern, petite, strait-laced type person. She loved traveling abroad and was constantly on the go. I do not think after granddaddy died that she had her own “house” so to speak. She either stayed with relatives in Jacksonville/Mandarin/St. Augustine, Ottawa, her sisters in Asheville, or Daddy in Virginia/South Carolina. I know that she stayed in Asheville most of the time after traveling. I do know a lot of her poetry was sent from Asheville. Whether she had her own house and or apartment between traveling, I am unsure. When she stopped traveling she had her own apartment or set of rooms in Camden, and later in Summerville, SC. The very last years of her life she lived with us at the King Cotton Motel.








Grandmother was a poet. A very good poet and many of her poems were published in many different literary magazines of her time. She wrote these poems up until the last few years of her life. She even wrote one to me when I was born.


SONG FOR SUSAN

If I could sing the song of summer slumber,
A song with silken swish of scented pine,
Or hum with bees in drowsy, droning number,
The soothing song of nature’s anodyne:
Or sing the song of palms in rippling rhythm
And roll the drum beats of the waves on sand,
You’d dream, caressed by pine and palm and wavelets,
Drowned in the scented warmth of lotus land.
Author Note: To my Grand-daughter, Susan Anne Livingston
Published in Versecraft Emory University, Atlanta, Ga.
Published in National Anthology for 1946,
pub. by Artcraft Publications, San Francisco, Calif. Nov. 1943

The second poem at the end of this blog post was intended to be for all four sisters. Although she rarely displayed this side of her personality, she did have a sense of humor that appeared in many of her poems. Many of her poems revealed characteristics about Grandmother that we did not see.

One of my first memories of Grandmother was my Dad informing me that at all cost I was to keep my feline away from her. Well, that was the wrong thing to say for my curiosity got the best of me. I needed to see what would happen if a cat got within her territory or sight. I hid outside her window and carefully lifted the cat so it could be seen outside her window. Well, I am here to tell you, my Grandmother let out a blood-curdling yell that I never have forgotten as she came bounding out of her motel room. Not expecting such a reaction, I could not get away soon enough and got caught. Not only did she hate cats, she was scared of them as well. My Dad was one angry man. A spanking was the order of the day. It was also the end of a trustful relationship with Grandmother. If a cat appeared at any time when she visited or lived with us, I was blamed for its presence. (In many cases, I hate to admit, she was right. RIGHT, STRAWN?) To be honest I am NOT the cat lover in my family. I tolerate them so I guess I was like her in that sense. My sister Strawn is the cat lover and on limited occasions I will babysit Pepper, who I might add doesn’t particularly like me. (Here are several pictures of Pepper)


My Grandmother suffered from a painful version of arthritis. She was a little/short woman who always wore, later in life, a long black dress. She used a black, sharp-looking cane. I was always terrified she would haul off and whack me. She loved to stomp it loudly on the floor to get our attention. Up until she was at least sixty-years of age she could stand on her head. She could also touch the floor with the palm of her hands while she stood flat-footed. (No, I will not tell everyone on this post/blog what she would do to my sister Gay when she tapped her cane twice before passing her going from her room to the dining room.) Of the four sisters, Peggy was the only one who really got along with Grandmother. They would spend long periods of time talking to each other. I must admit she was a very interesting lady and on occasion, when I took the time to listen, she would tell me stories of her travels. I must admit I regret now that I didn’t take more time with my Grandmother Frances.

As dignified and strait-laced as Grandmother was she loved boxing and I can remember many times she would join Dad to watch boxing matches. I would join them not to see the boxing but to gape at her when she got excited and started punching air. It was pure entertainment.

She loved to listen to Louis Armstrong. I loved listening to him myself and I even have a stuffed frog that plays a piece of one of his songs, “What a Wonderful World”. My grandson loves to punch the frog's foot to listen as well. When I kick the bucket, I want to be cremated (if you want you can save a tablespoon or two to bury with Coach), my ashes scattered out into the ocean and that song sung.

WHERE PRAIRIES BOAST OF THE RIPENING CORN
Mellowing brick in a sun-drenched wall
Sheltered a garden where children ran free
To play make-believe through rapturous hours
That flowed like music before the fall.
Over three little girls, a busy brood,
A grandmother apple tree spread a wing
Like a floating parasol, pink in spring
And green in a fluttery mid-summer mood.

No heed was paid to the dusty street:
Within the gate bright flowers blew,
With grassy paths for flying feet
‘Cause raspberry time might soon be due.
Around a table set in the shade
Dolls sat stiffly to stare at their plates.
Impeccable manners the poppets displayed;
Their abject submission made perfect playmates.

When cherry time came up in June
A child roamed wild as a drifting balloon:
Like tropical birds they chirped and fed,
In gay checked gingham or Turkey red,
Perched on the sloping chicken house roof.
Cherries ripe forecast sultry days
Across vast fields of prophecy
Were prairies sleep in a ripening haze.

Under the arbor, ‘let the old cat die,’
As the swing sank low or the swing sailed high.
The leafy vines would try to hide
Hard, green grapes from the Argus-eyed,
Till clusters drooped in luscious hues
Of purple, pink or frosted blues.

The tang of autumn wove a spell:
The maples blazed; glossy apples fell.
‘Twas thought good apples must be free
For any child to pick from a tree.

When blizzards swirled great gusts of snow
Against the window’s crusted frost
With moist, warm breath and eager fist
They polished peep-holes through the mist.
They watched tall elms, in stately row,
Shiver and sway. Then high flew the swing
Like a tipsy pendulum off a fling.

* * * * *
Now they are old…little ladies face
The crumbling walls of drifting space.
The supreme adventure, in gardens unknown
Beckons and calls—to each her own.

This was written on February 14, l955, and dedicated to Susan, Peggy, Strawn and Gay Livingston.
I believe it was in memory of Grandmother and her sisters who lived in Asheville, NC.

PART I--A DIFFERENCE OF NIGHT AND DAY

My two grandmothers had entirely different personalities and lives. My Mother’s Mother was originally from Canada and upon receiving citizenship moved to New York City. She also had a summer house in Sea Girt, New Jersey. I knew neither of my grandfathers, but I did know and remember slightly my step grandfather “Billy Graham”.
As the story goes, told to me by my mother and Dad: my Grandmother and Granddaddy were coming to see me and I was suppose to call them Ma and Pa. I was just learning to talk and they had me all pumped up to meet both my grandparents. We went to Washington, DC to meet the train. I had never seen a train and I was all excited about this new adventure as well. Upon arrival of the train, and evidently confused when my Grandmother got off alone, I called her “MaPa.” My mom said that from the time I met ‘MaPa’ until she left to go back home we had a tight inseparable bond. I kept hugging her and patting her face and arms calling her ‘MaPa’ no matter how much my parents tried to explain she was Ma and Pa had not come. Later she put me in the NONO chair, not realizing the chair’s significance. I had not done anything wrong and Mom said I yelled like crazy as I clung to her in a bear-like hug, “No, MaPa …I good girl, I good girl.” After this my grandmother was so delighted she wanted to be called “MaPa.”

I do not know what I called my step-granddad, but I do remember him and his patience with me. He was always lifting me up to talk to me, instead of leaning down. MaPa was a serene, smiling, loving Grandmother. She always talked in this quiet, matter of fact manner. She never raised her voice even when Margie’s daughter Marguerite decided to let Peggy and I take a drag off the cigarette she had stolen from my Mother when we visited MaPa in Sea Girt. She always took Peggy’s and my side over Mom and Dad’s. She always managed to explain away our mischievousness or should I say my mischief behavior. Peggy was always good; she is a lot like MaPa.

When she died of a heart attack, (I think), Peg and I had gone to school after Dad told us about MaPa’s death. We were both upset, especially when he told us that Mom had gone to NY to send her to heaven. On that same day, I remember my teacher reprimanding me for being late for school and I was to take a seat in the back of the classroom instead of my usual seat. I started crying calling her a “mean ole ugly lady” and hysterically yelling that my ‘MaPa’ had died and she was on her way to heaven. I stumped my feet telling her I would sit where I wanted to sit and proceeded to sit in my desk up front. My outburst created havoc with some of the students for they gasped in shock and excitement on my public display, while others started crying along with me. Needless, to say…Dad had a mess of hurt feelings to clean-up after my reported outburst. Reluctantly, I did apologize later to the teacher and the class. (This was part of my discipline. To be honest, I very much did NOT want to apologize). She was one of my favorite teachers even after the commotion that I had created.

I have always regretted that my sisters, Strawn and Gay, did not get to know ‘MaPa’ for she was such a beautiful soul. This is my real granddad William "Guy" and this necklace was made by Peggy. Note the jewels of today are like those worn by MaPa back in 1943.

A VERY SOPHISICATED BEAUTY CONTESTANT

Hey, anyone who reads my post, scroll down to my Part II, St. Augustine post and my prom post to see added pictures of my Aunt Esabella, Aunt Em, and Unk (with a drink in his hand.) I even found one more prom picture and pictures of the four sisters at the old Fort in St. Augustine.

As mentioned below, I could not find any more of my senior prom pictures. I did find a picture of me in my prom dress. During this two year time period in my life I do remember an unplanned shenanigan, if you want to call it that, which occurred my senior year. Back in those days we did not think twice about wearing the same evening dress twice. (Speaking of evening dresses, I bought both my dresses with the tips I made in my parent’s small restaurant open for guest of our motel only.) This particular year I had let my hair grow longer. Much to my disgust, Mom decided that I should be in the Summerton High Beauty Contest.

On the night in question the contestants all lined up for our entry onto the stage. Our instructions were clear, if our numbers were not called as a finalist we were to quietly join the audience and see the rest of the contest. I was number “10” of lord knows how many girls. I do not think there were over twenty girls in the contest. I think they eliminated all but eight and from those eight they selected the queen and two finalists. You need to understand, I knew I wasn’t ugly but I definitely wasn’t any beauty nor was I the most graceful soul on that stage. I think Mom felt it was a good way to build self-esteem; poise and whatever else a pageant was suppose to do for young ladies. I entered the stage that first introductory part of the beauty contest strutting my stuff. Upon calling out the eight finalists and not hearing my number I headed for the audience. The curtain opens for the 2nd half of the pageant and they started calling out the finalist, suddenly I heard number 10 called, they called it again and I could not understand where and who the contestant was, suddenly I heard myself say out loud, Oh, my gosh, that’s me. Reacting in my normal unsophisticated manner, I jumped up, crawled over four or five people to get to the aisle. My dress up in the air and swinging back and forth, I ran down the aisle to the back of the gym and down this outside area to get to the back of the stage where I entered the stage after a long delay with a red face; huffing and puffing loudly trying to get my breath. I do know I plastered a smile on my face trying not to laugh at myself and strolled with as much dignity that I could muster. As you might have come to realize the audience was extremely entertained. I learned later that Mom’s face of delight at I being one of the finalist soon changed to mouth open shock, whereby she started sliding down in her seat as Dad took her elbow and pushed upward. From what I was told she was speechless, but to this day I do not remember what was said to me after that contest was over. It’s like I took this part of my memory and locked it out. Maybe Peggy remembers the rest of this story.

My sister, Peggy, has a better memory than I do. I have decided that I will invite her as a guest to write on my blog. It would be fun for her to share some of her memories, or to do an addendum to what I have written.

As an afterthought, in my thirties I was a Valentine Queen for Beta Sigma Phi twice, a women’s sorority in Beaufort. The sorority use to put on the Talent Contest for the Water Festival. It is a national sorority and each chapter took on a community function and sponsored a meal for a family in need at Christmas. We also did a chartable money raiser. I guess in a round about way, you could say that Mom got her wish fifteen years too late even if it was for only two night.

PROM SHENANIGANS

As mentioned in my first post, this lady (SUE) stayed in trouble when she was younger. This continued through motherhood and trouble still materializes to a lesser degree now. It was not always planned, but more spontaneous. It was no use to lie or try to get away with anything for I always got caught. I had and still have a habit of speaking out or taking action without thinking it through. My Dad always said, my mouth took action before my brain, therefore; it was the reason for my speaking, spelling, and quick reaction mistakes. I was/am too impatient. I wanted to get it said or done with at that moment in time which invariably led/leads to trouble. He could be right about this. I do know he accepted me for the way I was which included my antics (for lack of a better word). My poor Mom was the culprit of the majority of these shenanigans much to her embarrassment. Unfortunately I could never figure out why I embarrassed her so much for I was rarely embarrassed. I guess I was not seeing the situations I got myself into in the same light that she would see them. I can’t tell you how many times my Mother was apologizing for something I said or did. After I got married I can remember her apologizing to her best friends, Mac and Booger, before I did anything wrong.

Well anyway after reading Lacy’s Blog, Lacy Lately, I looked everywhere for prom pictures and found only one. I do remembered going to both proms. (The pictures must be in my storage unit) I cannot remember my proms clearly. To be honest I do not remember having a particularly good time. We did not do “the going out to eat” and then going to the prom like they do in present time. We did not take pictures at the prom or if we did I do not remember it. The food was buffet catered. All I can remember about the music was that it was Rock’n-Roll.

I do remember two events that stood out in my memory simultaneously in slow motion. The night of my Junior Prom, I remember my poor Mom nearly keeled over in shock and my Dad shaking with laughter hoping Mom would not see him. This was not a planned shenanigan, but it was a last minute shenanigan that I am sure Mom never forgot. I had this real short haircut that I wore in a “Pixie”. Mom decided for a formal prom I needed to get it doodle-up and she got Helen, her beautician, to give me a curl/wave. When I got home I was upset for I thought it looked awful and so not “me.” Mom was not exactly happy with my attitude and lack of appreciation. I can't blame her for back then money was scarce. When my date arrived I was beside myself and did not want to go. First, I did not exactly like my date. Secondly, I was embarrassed with my tight-wavy look. I rushed into the bathroom in my blue evening dress, kneeled down by the bath tub, turned on the warm water and proceeded to wash my hair. Peggy is having a multi-reaction fit…..dying of shock and whispering that I was going to be in big trouble. At the same time she was laughing and shaking her head; “I cannot believe you are doing this”. Carefully I lift my head, I managed to get a towel and I rubbed my hair as dry as time allowed. I “pixied” my hair in this exaggerated spike fashion, touched up my lipstick, put on my fashionable long gloves and walked out into the living room. Two reactions registered at the same time: My Dad eyes got big and round, he rolled his eyes while he shook his head in one of those NOT AGAIN, SUE gestures and he headed for the kitchen. (He was laughing and trying to get out of harm’s way.) My Mom’s face, had a look of impatience because I was rude and she was left entertaining my date, changed into red dismay. Her mouth was hanging open, followed by a gasp and a slow-measured movement towards a chair. She was speechless. With stiff, straight, wet hair I moved quickly towards the front door smiling at my date and trying not to look at anyone. At the moment it was important I vacate my house fast. My dad yells WAIT. As I turned slowly, my Dad with this hidden mischievous half-smile pointed to the Chinese Chest and he quickly took a few pictures. My Mother has yet to utter a word and I dare not look at her. I do not remember what happened after that except I was surprised that no one said anything to me then or on my return, if they did it does not stick in my mind.

Lastly, I do remember that after my senior prom, a group of us went swimming in our clothes at the Windsor Motel pool. We evidently made too much noise. We were sneaking around at two o’clock AM. The manager was so upset that he called the police. We all got the no trespassing and disturbing the peace lecture and were told literally to disappear or our moms and dads would be called. I had on a new Madras outfit that faded out even more after my chlorinated dip in the pool. My Dad owned the King Cotton Motel competition to the Windsor Motel so I certainly did not need to get in trouble. I was out of there as quickly as time allowed, but it did not matter. Unknown to me, the manager recognized me and called my Dad. Upon sneaking into the house I saw my Dad sitting in his favorite chair half-asleep, twiddling his fingers on his chest, and nodding his head back and forth. Sue, I sure hope you enjoyed yourself tonight and that you are home to stay for I really need to get some sleep. I do not want anymore strange phone calls, nor do I want your Mom waking up. After all, it was four o’clock in the morning.

PART II: ST. AUGUSTINE TRIP

I did not want to leave my post on St. Augustine without sharing a few pictures of the area. I had a short visit therefore; I did not get to see the old Burroughs homestead I visited when I was a kid.

I did get to see the old homestead of my Aunt Em and Aunt Esabella. Both lived together in Mandarin, Florida. When Aunt Em came to visit us she would search literally hours looking for the secret drawer that was supposedly hidden in the Chinese chest that my dad’s dad brought back to the US when he was in the Merchant Marines. (Pictures: Aunt Em's house and my sister, Strawn in front of Chinese chest & Chest itself .) She also introduced me to Canasta, Bridge and my love for board games.

Unk and Gertrude, another aunt and uncle, lived there as well. When I was a kid we use to get bushel baskets of home grown oranges, tangerines, grapefruit and kumquats from Unk’s home by the St. John’s River. Our family was never without fresh fruit from Mandarin. I would sneak into the living room behind Unk’s chair to listen to adult conversation and eat the yummy fruit from the Old Fashion drinks he made and secretly passed to me while I hid. I would give almost anything to have the recipe for those Old Fashions. I still believe he loaded those drinks with extra fruit so I could share the fruit while he enjoyed his drink. I still have the old shaker he used to make those drinks.

In those days visiting the Alligator Farm, the old fort (The Castillo de San Marcos took twenty-three years to build and was never conquered), the oldest wooden school house and the oldest jailhouse were among a few big things to do. I did not get to revisit these old memories, but I did get to see the newly renovated lighthouse. It was so cool to see the difference of St. Augustine lighthouse versus the Tybee Island and Hunting Island lighthouses. After living on Hunting Island State Park and helping with the research information on this lighthouse, I have visited quite a few lighthouses. Ray, who was the manager of Hunting Island State Park at one time, was devoted to preserving the historical aspect of the lighthouse and the park. He has done an unbelievably fantastic job. At night you can see a light rotating at the top of the lighthouse. (It is not the true Fresnel light used back in 1875, nor is it an active light today) it does reflect the era when the lighthouse served as a guide to those out at sea. He was also responsible in forming “The Friends of Hunting Island” an organization that helped him in this endeavor. Those of you who like camping, especially on the beach, need to make sure you add this park to your list of camping must, along with Edisto State Park.

Hunting Island Lighthouse St. Augustine Lighthouse Tybee Island Lighthouse

St. Augustine at Easter is a great place to visit. They had an Easter Parade befitting the historical aspect of the area with people dressed in historical attire marching or riding buggies representing its history between 1513 and 1900. They had many different shops in the old Historical area of the city along with an unreal selection of restaurants. You are able to enjoy the historical architecture, dinning, and shopping all in one walking area. It was a very unique experience. My favorite purchase was Minorcan Datil Peppers. My dad when I was growing up use to keep a supply of these hot peppers in his cupboard at all times. The secret ingredient of many of his recipes was Datil Pepper. Between his St. Augustine and Mandarin relatives, he kept his supply up to date. These peppers are only grown in St. Augustine. Back then these peppers were hotter than they are now. I think the uniqueness of the pepper is the unexplainable/memorable flavor along with the heat of the pepper. Although the peppers you buy today are really good, for some reason they do not seem quite the same. Dad said that many areas of Florida and the US have tried growing these peppers but they never tasted as good or as hot as those grown in St. Augustine. (In my cupboard I have Datil relish, sauce, mustard, peppers and pepper vinegar...time never changes only the variety of the product.)

My sister, Strawn, and I decided to take the long way home to South Carolina. We left Crescent Beach, Florida and took highway A1A to Jacksonville Beach. This was the only way to go in the old days. I can remember when my Husband and I took this road on several occasions on the way to/from Daytona Beach. It is sometimes called the ocean highway for it follows the Atlantic Ocean. If you are not in a hurry it is fun to stop at some of the beach accesses. Each area seems to be a little different and have its own unique beauty or ambience. The highway scenery is definitely a photographer’s paradise and I wish we could have had more time, but we both were tired and rain was beginning to take over our weekend of sunshine. I must go back in the next few years and have a photographing holiday and capture more memories.