No kid in my family, or the generation before mine, took music lessons. But we had the music in us. I know, because if Daddy was with us, there would be music wherever we went.
He didn’t need to haul around a guitar, a banjo, or even a pair of bongo drums. He was the musical instrument. Yes, you read that right.
Mom grew up on the West Coast. Dad was born and raised in West Tennessee, so we traveled back and forth across country many times. He always had the radio on. He’d listen to it all–hillbilly, cowboy country, rock-n-roll, or preachin’. But during those times when radio was not available, he made his own music.
He was not singing. There were no words to his music. Literally.
Daddy played the nose trumpet, the mouth harp, the pec drums, the ab drums–you get the picture? He also played the harmonica, but not as often. And once, when I was ten, I saw him strum an electric guitar.
Oh, this man was talented. He had rhythm. He was right on key, and his nose trumpet was to be envied. His audience adored him. We laughed till we cried and sometimes had to beg for a potty break along the way.
Mom was a little less enthralled by his grand abilities. When she wouldn’t laugh at his concerts, he’d make his pecs dance. Guaranteed giggles, especially from the peanut gallery.
Tommy Thomason, US Navy
Where did he develop these wondrous talents? We’re not really sure, but he definitely honed them in the Navy. I guess they had a lot of down time on board ship and had to learn to entertain themselves. And he was guaranteed a captive audience.
It’s not really something he passed on to the next generation. I don’t think either of my brothers inherited this talent. But in my mind and heart, I can still hear Daddy playing his music. The memory always makes me smile. And I really believe that was the purpose of his one-man concert.
“All the days of the afflicted are evil, but he who is of a merry heart has a continual feast.” Proverbs 15:15 NKJV
I don’t have any sisters, but I have an older cousin named Norma, who is as dear as a sister to me. I thought about her one day as I was putting on a favorite pair of earrings I hadn’t worn in a while. When my grandmother was dying, I wore those earrings when I went to the hospital. My cousin Norma arrived from Illinois wearing earrings just like mine. I guess that means we have similar taste, good genes, or something like that.
I kept thinking about Norma, throughout the day. I’d not heard from her in a while, and she’s not on the computer, so I found a card with an appropriate message and wrote her a note.
“Do you remember when Grandma was in the hospital and we arrived wearing the same earrings? Well, they’re back in style, and I’m wearing them today. I’ll always think of you when I see them.” I finished with some news about the family and sealed the card.
The next day, I had the card with me at work, planning to mail it, but I’d forgotten to write the address on the front, and I didn’t have her information with me. She didn’t have a “land line” so her address wasn’t in the online phone book. I put the card back in my bag so I could mail it the next day. A few days later, I was looking through the bag and came across the card I’d forgotten all about. So I took it out, found the address, and put it back in the bag.
I finally remembered to mail the thing several days after I had written it. A few days later, I received Norma’s answer.
Aunt Jen
“You are such a blessing,” she wrote. “Your sweet card arrived on Mama’s birthday.” Her mother, my favorite aunt, had died a little over a year before. Norma was feeling sad when she went to the mailbox and found my card.
I smiled at the memory of my forgetfulness, but after re-reading Norma’s note, I wondered. My delay in sending the card meant it arrived on Aunt Jen’s birthday (which I’d forgotten about). Coincidence? I don’t think so. I prefer to believe in a loving heavenly Father who cares about our every need. His plans for us sometimes include precious surprises that brighten our day and help us through difficult times.
He heals the brokenheartedand binds up their wounds. Psalm 147:3 NIV
Early this year, I was ranting online about the rabbit damage among my freshly-planted flowers. It was springtime and I had happily transplanted rows of beautiful marigolds. I purchased marigolds of several hues and mixed them generously across the front of my flowerbed. At that point, I should have photographed them. Because they are no more.
One of the main reasons I chose marigolds was because last spring, something quickly devoured the lovely bright red zinnias I planted. I remembered my grandmother saying you should plant marigolds to keep pests away. Well, it wasn’t quite clear what the pest was, but I was willing to try. The marigolds danced their little heads in my gardens for oh, maybe twenty-four hours.
Devastation! Oh my stars and garters! Something was quite happy with my choice of marigolds. The destruction of the zinnias was nothing compared to this.
Ah-hah! The perpetrator!
So, back to the drawing board. I looked online and found the lovely photo above. Then I caught the perpetrator red-pawed. But I’m a gentle soul and would rather discourage than draw blood or cause discomfort to a fellow earth-dweller. Except for snakes, snails, and spiders. And flies, of course, and mosquitoes, and…a few other things I won’t mention.
Stinky Stuff
My local hardware store carried a wonderfully smelly solution. It contains a lot of garlic and yucky stuff that repels critters. It repelled me too. I had to encase the container in a sealed plastic bag between uses. But the stuff works. However, heavy rainfall this summer meant I had to reapply often to keep the ground around my new plants really stinky. Now the little hoppers head across the street and chew the neighbors’ plants. Sorry about that. No, I’m not! Ha ha!
Now I needed to fill the empty spaces inside my flowerbed. So I went back to the Internet and found some supposedly safe-from-rodents-with-big-ears plants. There aren’t very many of those plants and the list I found had a disclaimer on it that went something like this: …while these plants worked for me and my local bunnies, they may not work in your area. Good luck.
Rats! No. Rabbits!
But I felt it was worth a try, so I headed back out to the garden center with my list in hand. Trouble is, most of these plants don’t have showy blossoms. But I found some coleuses that filled the bill. Wow, do they pack a punch in my garden. They do bloom, but it’s not a show-stopping bloom. Who needs it, however, when the leaves look like this!
Snapdragons! Little beauties of all colors and varieties. They prefer drier weather though, so didn’t do great this year. Maybe later when the weather dries up. If ever the weather dries up. And in my neck of the woods, snapdragons sometimes winter over and also reseed themselves. Two thumbs up!
Dusty Miller‘s silver leaves accent the other bright colors in the garden. And of course, there’s always geraniums. Bright red ones fill my window box. Rabbits never touch my Russian Sage, regular sage, thyme, or lavender. They don’t bother the daylilies, Stellad’oros or roses. So I’m okay there. But they love to snack on zinnias, marigolds, and petunias. 😦 They eat the leaves, the flowers–everything except one pitiful stalk attached to the roots–then the plant promptly dies. I did manage to save my petunias by sticking them in a well-guarded window box.
What a year. My garden is now filled with bright colors, but it’s so overgrown, it looks like a jungle. This is the result of the torrential rains in June and early July. I plan to spend hours out there in the fall when the temperatures cool. But that’s another subject for another day. In light of all the things that have happened in the world this year, my little rabbit woes just don’t compare.
Peter Rabbit
But I have to admit, the research, the work, running outside to scare cottontails–it’s all been great fun. And it broke up the monotony of my more writer-ly pursuits. I hope you’re enjoying your summer, wherever you are, and can take pleasure in the small things. Even when they have big ears and a healthy appetite for marigolds.
Gibson County, Tennessee is the location I chose for the Kinsman Redeemer series. Annabelle’s Ruth, the first book in that series, takes place almost entirely in Gibson County–specifically–Trenton, Tennessee. Trenton is the county seat and one of the three main towns in Gibson County.
I recently returned from a trip to the area. This photo shows the house my family rented in Trenton (a number of years ago–not telling how many years). Guess what? It’s still a rental! There was a “For Rent” sign in the yard. The weeping willow tree I used to climb is gone, and the green color of the house has changed from a pale green to a brighter, darker one, but little else has changed. Of course, there was no ramp or satellite dish in those days either. There were only two bedrooms in the house, so I–the only girl in the family–got to sleep on the built-in back porch. How many girls get to have a washer in their bedroom? The porch wasn’t insulated, so in really cold weather, I slept on the couch in the living room.
31 mph speed limit in Trenton
After visiting our little house, we headed for the town’s centerpiece – the elegant Victorian-style courthouse. On the way, we passed this speed limit sign, mentioned in Annabelle’s Ruth.
Trenton has tons of interesting history, including David (Davy) Crockett. He was an early resident statesman who started the process to organize the area into Gibson County. In those early days, the courthouse was a log cabin. The present courthouse was erected in 1899.
Note: In these photos, the flags are at half-staff to honor the fallen soldiers in Chattanooga, Tennessee.
After leaving the courthouse, we took a little tour of the town and it’s lovely old houses, including the one pictured below, which I used as a model for Jensen Wade’s house in Annabelle’s Ruth. It’s a Greek revival style home built in 1831. It was said the residents stood on the balcony and watched the Battle of Trenton during the Civil War.
Oh, by the way–this one’s for sale. You can see inside it and check out the details here.
Present-day Trenton is a pleasant little town of approximately 4,300 residents in a mainly agricultural community. But the town does boast a world-famous collection of Night Light teapots. You can view them on display and read their history here.
After our little tour, I paid a visit to the Gibson County Memorial Library and librarian Connie Bates. She has now read Annabelle’s Ruth and told me she loved it, especially the familiar places referenced in the story. The library has a copy of the book, and I’ll be returning in the future to speak to the local book club.
Now I’m all set to begin the second novel in the Kinsman Redeemer series with scenes of the home town fresh in my mind. The cotton is tall and green in the fields, the temps this past weekend topped 100 degrees. Ah, West Tennessee summers! So fry up some fresh okra and put the cornbread in the oven. Call me when dinner’s ready. I can’t wait to see what happens to Annabelle and her family next.
After I posted Book o’ My Heart, with the story about my parents (pictured here), I received a comment from a friend telling me of her parents’ similar experience. This involves someone who was very important in my life–my pastor during my teens and early adulthood. He presided over my wedding and witnessed many important events in my and my parents’ lives. He and his first wife and my parents had a lot in common. I wanted to share it with you as a follow-up to the earlier post.
When I read Betty’s blog recounting the “meet-cute” story of her parents’ relationship, it reminded me so much of my own parents’ story! My father was raised on a farm in middle Tennessee with no electricity or indoor plumbing. He always says they did have running water, because his mother would say, “Roy, run down to the creek and get some water!”
My mother was a small-town Kentucky girl. She was voted football queen, won state awards in Glee Club, and had a large group of girl and boy friends. After his military service, Dad attended Murray College to study to be a minister. One day he was walking across campus and saw my mother standing in a line. He says he knew at that moment she was his wife. He wasn’t sure how to meet her, but when he went to the mandatory chapel, his assigned seat for the year was next to hers. I don’t think Mother had the same “this is the one” feeling that he had, but they dated steadily that semester.
Her Mom & Dad
Dad drove her to her home at Christmas break and met her family. However, during the break, she dated several of her former beaus, and the boys gave her wonderful Christmas presents. She told Dad she wanted to make sure he was really the one she loved! When she got back to college, Dad must have convinced her that he was “the one,” because they went to Mississippi to elope on January 6th. When Mom called her family to tell them she had gotten married, they were shocked and didn’t get all the details. They had to phone her back to find out who she had married!
Mom and Dad ministered as pastor and pastor’s wife for many years in both Kentucky and Tennessee. They were married for nearly 57 years, until my mom’s death in 2009.
Dad told the story of seeing her for the first time and knowing she was ‘the one’ many times from the pulpit. Mom would always laugh and say, “Oh Roy, you did not!” I don’t know if she ever believed it, but I do; for my Dad, it was love at first sight. –Contributed by Teresa Stanulis
Teresa Stanulis is an artist who creates with a sewing machine, embroidery machine, and knitting needles. She has an Etsy site at Stitchin’ Gal, a place you really need to visit.
Teresa is a stay-at-home mom of two sons. She’s been sewing and knitting since she was about 9 years old, and she loves fabric and yarn. In business since 2001, she makes personalized gifts for babies and for the home.