The Best Days of All

 

“I’ve got the ‘don’t-cares’ today.”

As a child, I was never quite sure what my mother meant when she said that, but later in life, I figured it out. Actually, it didn’t take much figuring. I experienced the “don’t-cares” myself.

Although it seems counterintuitive, the “don’t-cares” is not a particularly happy state of mind. Even as a child, I knew that one must feel a sense of accomplishment to be in high spirits. But I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth – understand it or not – I liked it.

When my mother announced she had the “don’t cares,” I’d giggle and say to myself, Oh, goodie! No work today!

She’d lounge around reading, drinking coffee and doing as she pleased until time to cook dinner. She loved cooking and always cooked, no matter what. Unfortunately, she didn’t pass that love on to me. Everyone knows I’d rather be featured on My Strange Addiction than cook a meal.

When she had one of those days, I’d lie across my bed and talk to my friend, Carol, on the phone. If the weather was nice, we’d meet halfway and take one of the long walks we so enjoyed.

Those were the best days of all.

Nowadays, when I wake up with the “don’t cares,” I smile and remember my mother – the best of her: her smile, her contagious laughter, the way she sang as she did her housework and her sometimes humorous efforts to teach me right from wrong.

And I recall the fun things Carol and I did growing up on the same street in a small town: the walks, the giggles, breaking the rules by riding our bicycles farther than we were allowed, the carnival, double-feature movies on Saturday afternoons. And so much more!

Beautiful memories are the glue that holds life together – even if they are sometimes inspired by the “don’t cares.”  

www.amazon.com/author/peggytoneyhorton

 

Baptist Camp

 

Kids do the darnedest things.

No matter how well-intentioned the parents, sometimes there’s a disconnect and the right message doesn’t get through. These are the times our children surprise and amaze us – either in a good way or not so good. But if we’re lucky, lessons are learned along the way that make them worthwhile and likeable human beings.

I’m guessing I was around ten years old when I learned one of the many valuable lessons I was destined to learn throughout my life.

I grew up in a small town. Although my parents belonged to the local Methodist church, they occasionally allowed me to attend a Baptist church with my friend, Anna. Actually, several of my friends from school attended this church and I preferred it. So, early in the spring, when the subject of Baptist camp came up and my friends were excited about the prospect of going for two weeks in July, naturally, I became excited, too.

I was told there’d be swimming, hiking, craft making, games, roasting marshmallows and singing songs around a campfire in the evenings; It sounded like so much fun! But I soon learned that things aren’t always what they’re cracked up to be.

I was in for a rude awaking!

It took a lot of persuading from me and a couple of friends to convince my mother that I should go, but she finally gave in and the three of us jumped for joy.

Funny how you learn later in life that your mother was so much smarter than you thought. If only I’d listened to her. She knew what I didn’t – that because I’d never been away from home and family for two weeks straight, I was likely to get homesick. I’d experienced a little homesickness from time to time when I visited my grandparents in the summertime, but I had my Aunt Betty to play with and my grandmother to hug me and hold me on her lap and sing to me if things were bad. And I never stayed homesick for long. My grandparents’ house was the nearest thing to home.

First off, I had to ride in the backseat of a car between my two friends for more than two hours to get to the Baptist camp. It was in Cowen, West Virginia. And it was not Interstate – much of it, a two-lane country road. What’s worse, the temperature was in the mid-eighties and the car had no air-conditioning! For a ten-year-old, two hours in a car with all four windows down blowing your hair forty ways from Sunday is an eternity!

When we finally arrived, I thought we’d get right down to that swimming I was promised so we could cool off, but no.... we had to get settled in. We met our counselor, an 18 year-old girl who would be in charge of our little group of 12 girls. Her name was Trudy, and she was nice. Pretty, too, with a golden tan and long blonde hair pulled up in a ponytail. And a beautiful smile.

After asking our names and where we were from, Trudy assured us she’d know our names in a few days and asked us to be patient with her. She then took us to our “cabin.” Yes, it was a real log cabin! Inside, there were three sets of bunk beds, so there’d be six girls in each cabin. She assigned our beds and mine was the top bunk by the window, which I thought was fine until that night when we went to bed and I lay there trying to see through the blackness outside the window. There are no streetlights at camp. After a while, I started to imagine all sorts of things. Maybe a bear, a mountain lion or even some kind of monster was lurking out there in the total darkness. Needless to say, I didn’t sleep well that first night! Trudy didn’t sleep in the cabin with us. After we went to bed, we were on our own until morning. And guess what else? There was no running water in the cabin! So, no matter what, none of us dared go outside to use the facilities until first light.

Morning brought another surprise for me: we couldn’t sleep in! When it was barely daylight, a loud, clanging bell rang, startling me out of the deep sleep I’d had trouble falling into.

Dragging myself out of bed, I yawned, grabbed my toothbrush and made my way to the outside where there was already a line waiting to use the facilities. That done, I went back inside and retrieved my suitcase from under the lower bunk where Trudy had told me to put it... along with the one belonging to my bunk-mate.

I opened it, returned my toothbrush and felt the first pang of homesickness as I caught a whiff of the sweet-smelling, well-ironed shorts and shirts that my mother had packed for me. I chose clean underwear, white sandals, and my favorite outfit: brown shorts and matching brown and yellow shirt. Donning them, I took my hairbrush out and brushed my hair vigorously, putting a yellow clasp on one side.

I got done just in time ‘cause that irritating bell rang again and Trudy appeared outta nowhere to tell us to line up to go to the activity hall for breakfast.

Breakfast was okay, though cream of wheat is not exactly my cup o’ tea. But soon, a chunky woman brought several plates of pancakes with butter and syrup and large glasses of milk. That was more like it!

Before we were finished, the bell tolled again and Trudy said, “Outside, everyone. Line up so we can split up into groups for our “classes.” (What? Classes? Nobody said there would be classes! It’s like school?)

Oh, my. Two weeks of this? I thought.

I started to walk away and Trudy said, “Where’re you going?”

“Where’s the phone? I have to call my dad,”  I said.

“Why?”

“I can’t stay here.”

“Why not?” Trudy said. “You’re gonna have lots of fun.”

“No, it’s not what I thought it would be like.”

“You haven’t been here long enough,” she said. “Why don't you wait and see how it goes today, okay?”

Tears welling in my eyes, I looked away for a second and finally said, “Okay. Just today, but I’m calling my dad tomorrow!”

Part II - next post

Baptist Camp - Part II

My little group sat down at tables in the activity room and were shown how to paint a name on a mug. “Make it anyone’s name you want,” the craft teacher said. “Your mother, grandmother, sister or anyone you’d like to give it to – a gift from camp.”

I didn’t have to think very hard. My mother’s name was Gwendolyn and that was too many letters. I’d give it to my dad whose name was Dan. (Smile) After we finished our mugs, we put our names on the bottom and left them to be baked in an oven. “You can get them tomorrow,” the teacher said.

After crafts, we got to go swimming before lunch. I was excited until I saw where we had to swim. It was a creek! A green creek! Not a blue swimming pool, but an ugly old, muddy-bottomed creek! The other kids screamed with joy when they saw it and raced to see who could jump in first. I didn’t even want to get in.

Gosh, there are probably snakes and lizards in there, and who knows what else, I thought. I did get wet, but mostly sat on my towel on a huge rock at the edge of the water and got sunburned.

The rest of the day wasn’t too bad. We had hamburgers and potato chips and a banana for lunch. Then, it was game time. Some played badminton, others, volleyball. Still others donned lifejackets and went canoeing. I had a tummy ache and felt hot all over from my sunburn. Trudy told me to go back to my cabin and lie down until suppertime.

At least one promise came true. After supper, we roasted marshmallows around a campfire and sang songs. I enjoyed it and felt pretty good when Trudy said, “Off to bed, little campers. Don’t forget to brush your teeth and say your prayers.” I was tired and slept well until that awful clanging bell rang much too soon. Crawling out of bed, I dreaded another day like yesterday.

I never mentioned calling my dad again. Somehow, I managed to survive the next eleven days of getting up at the crack of dawn when that annoying bell clanged, swimming in that dirty old green water, and eating things I didn’t like, but I was so happy when the day came to go home. There was a ceremony and each camper was given a certificate and a medallion on a chain with the name of the camp and date on it. But what a joyful moment it was when we saw Anna’s mom and dad arrive to take the three of us home! I always felt that Baptist Camp had been totally misrepresented to me and never quite got over it. One thing for sure – I never fell for it again! 

Home at last! How wonderful it felt to walk about my own yard and lounge in my own room while enjoying the pleasing aroma of the meatloaf my mother had in the oven.

During dinner, my parents questioned me about the past two weeks and the things I'd learned and done at camp. I was tired of talking about it and wished they’d talk about something else.

After dinner, my mother said, “Let’s go unpack your suitcase. I still have time to do a load of laundry before bedtime.”

I followed her to my bedroom and watched her surprise as she opened my suitcase. Except for the brown shorts outfit that I'd taken out that first day and my pajamas, everything was exactly the same as it was when she packed it.

Turning to me, she said, “Peggy, why are your clothes clean? Did somebody wash them for you?”

“No,” I said.

Turning to me, hands on her hips, she said, “Well? Why aren’t these clothes dirty?”

“I didn’t wear them,” I said.

“What do you mean, you didn’t wear them? Why not?”

“We didn’t have much time to get dressed and go the bathroom and brush our teeth and comb our hair after the bell rang every morning. It was easier to lay these clothes on the foot of my bed and put them back on every morning.”

“Peggy! Are you telling me you wore the same outfit for fourteen days?”

The look on my mother’s face was starting to make me nervous. No. Scared!

My eyes brimming with tears, I said, “Yes.”

“Why in God’s name would you do such a thing?”

Crying now and trying to avoid my mother's angry glare, I said, “I don’t know.”

“Well, get those clothes off right now and go get in the bathtub.”

As I was undressing, I heard her softly relating the story to my dad and, as odd as it sounds - I could have sworn I heard laughter - but I’m sure I was mistaken.

The worst thing was – she didn’t even bother to wash my favorite outfit. She threw it away! 

I loved that outfit!

I have no good memories of Baptist camp!

www.amazon.com/author/peggytoneyhorton

Look for the Rainbow

 

One of the most important lessons I learned at my grandmother’s knee was, “There is something good in everything that happens – if you look for the rainbow.” This wasn’t idle talk; she really believed it. And she lived by those words.

Anyone who’s read my blog or any of my books knows that I spent summers as a child with my maternal grandmother and that her daughter, Betty, was only three months older than I was. Aunt Betty and I played together and became very close, remaining so throughout our lives.

Any time we were tempted to complain about a rainy day or anything else, my grandmother would stop whatever she was doing and give us the, “Look for the rainbow” lecture. We learned the lesson well!

She once allowed us to bake a cake all by ourselves on a rainy afternoon, teaching us that there are other fun things to do when you can’t go outside and play. We were so proud of ourselves when the cake was finished, even though the kitchen was a total mess! (She never said a word.) And we were doubly proud when we served our dessert after dinner and every family member went on and on about our delicious cake and what a good job we’d done!

Children learn a lot from praise! 

During our recent snowstorm, I remembered those lessons I learned from my grandmother, although, at times, a little fear crept into my mind: would our heavily snow-covered roof collapse? Would an overburdened tree fall on the house? But putting all the negative thoughts in God’s hands, I focused on my grandmother’s belief that there is some good in everything that happens.

When it started snowing on Friday, it snowed and snowed and snowed some more until there were at least 18 inches of the white stuff where I live and more in some of the more mountainous areas of the state.

I went from window to window to window taking pictures all day long at different stages of the storm. I found myself enjoying it thoroughly and, after a while, had no room for worry.

It was so beautiful!

 

 

  

  

 

  

I was still taking pictures at two a.m.     

  

As it turned out, it was a dry, powdery snow that didn’t cause a lot of fallen trees or collapsed roofs or power outages. It paralyzed the area for a day. Schools and stores were closed, people didn’t go out. It was quiet. Peaceful! A good time for families to spend time together if they appreciated it enough to take advantage of it.

That we got to enjoy the awesome sight of a pristine white world for a little while was surely the “rainbow” my grandmother had mentioned! 
 

--------------- 

After the sun came out on Sunday.
 

 Blue skies and sunshine lend an innocent look to the day, only 24-48 hours after two feet of snow paralyzed the eastern part of the country..

 

 

This beautiful sunny afternoon reminds me of a child who misbehaves and then looks at his mother with wide eyes and declares, "I didn't do it!"

www.amazon.com/author/peggytoneyhorton

 

Expecting a Snowstorm?

This afternoon, when Mr. H. went to Walmart to get the essentials we might need for the predicted winter storm, there were so many cars coming off the parking lot that he had trouble getting on it. Inside, bread and other items were low.

People go crazy in these situations!

It’s okay to be prepared, but some act as if we’re going to be unable to get out of our houses for weeks! It’s just not like that where we live. A snow storm here usually doesn’t keep us in for more than one day. By the time the cities salt the streets, usually soon after the snowfall, almost anyone who has at least front wheel drive can get out and do whatever he needs to do.

None of us who live in this area will ever forget another predicted storm. A warning about a potentially serious blizzard turned into something that people still joke about today.

In January of 1977, less than two weeks after Jay Rockefeller was sworn in as governor of West Virginia, and still in the midst of a frigid winter, the National Weather Service was suddenly predicting a huge winter storm to hit the state. Emergency announcements were being made on the radio stations. The new governor went on the air and warned everyone on that Friday afternoon that a blizzard was coming from the west. It was going to be worse than the infamous Thanksgiving 1950 storm that some of us had heard our parents tell such tall tales about.

When I arrived at the Real Estate office where I worked, our boss called us in his office and informed us about the predicted storm and told us to go home and get prepared. We’d close the office that day and he’d see us when it was all over. “Stay warm and safe,” were his last words.

 So home I went, making a mental shopping list as I drove. We’d have to have bread and milk, of course. Staples. Plenty of potatoes and other vegetables, canned goods – and a good assortment of snack foods for the children. It was hard to know how much to buy since we didn't know how many days (or possibly weeks) we’d be snowed in. After all, the governor had declared a state of emergency!

The inside of Krogers was crazy that afternoon. Everyone had heard about the coming blizzard and was stocking up for the inevitable isolation. I have never seen such crisis shopping in my life, as entire shelving units were being depleted! The lines at the checkout were horrendous! It was quite an experience.

However, by the time most of us awoke  on Saturday morning, it was apparent that the big blizzard had not materialized. For all the emergency proclamations by the governor, and for all the madhouse behavior at the grocery store, this supposedly gigantic blizzard was hardly worse than a typical winter snowstorm—it was measured in inches, not feet.

While we don't remember it for its epic amounts of snow, we will always remember the hype that went into Rockefeller's Blizzard of 1977.

amazon.com/author/peggytoneyhorton  

 

Spring Festival

On Blair Mountain,

   wildflowers bloom profusely

   in springtime.

Tall Blue Phlox bend and sway

   in the chilly breeze

   while sprightly

Dandelions frolic among them;

   thick stands of

Cattails huddle next to ponds,

   their flowering spikes reaching

   for the sun; copious

Violets creep over greening

   meadows, transforming

   them to blue velvet, and convey

   a stunning image as they vie

   with dazzling yellow

Buttercups for “Best of Show.”

               ©2014Peggy Toney Horton

Alien Ornament 2015

 

Some of my Facebook friends have been asking if I found a surprise on my tree this year. Sorry I took so long to answer but we just got around to taking our tree down today and yes, we found the usual odd ornament that we didn’t hang when we decorated the tree.

In case you aren’t familiar with this alien ornament story, here’s an explanation: a member of our family has seen fit to secretly gift Mr. H. and me with a new, unusual ornament every year for the past nine years. We never discover this new ornament until we dismantle the tree. The first year it happened, we asked every member of our family, but nobody knew how the alien ornament came to be hanging on our tree. It was a puzzle!

I gave up. I don’t ask anymore. We just enjoy the thrill of discovering the surprise each year.

And I must say, this year’s bequest absolutely has to be the most unusual one yet! It’s a cute little squirrel with a big bushy tail, wearing a red skirt. She’s larger than she looks in the picture and can stand alone. Very cute! The picture doesn’t do her justice.

I have no idea where our donor finds such unusual ornaments, but I will say he or she has given us a lot of pleasure over the past nine years. This year, I wrapped each of the ornaments carefully in tissue paper and placed them in a box of their own. I labeled the box, “Alien Ornaments – 2007 – 2015.” That way, if Mr. H. and I should not be here to decorate a tree on some future Christmas, our children will be able to distinguish the alien ornaments from the ones we’ve always had on the tree.

Perhaps at that time, the person or persons who have been giving them to us, will claim them and give them a home on their tree.

I hope so.
 

 Last year's alien ornament: http://www.pegylu.net/2015/01/alien-ornament-number-eight.html