Sunday, March 30, 2014
A special boy with a special bear
Thursday, March 27, 2014
Carrie Underwood with Vince Gill How Great thou Art - 720P HD - Standing...
This has been facebook and utube for a long time now, but every time someone posts it-I listen to it again. I love Carrie's voice, but it's Vince Gill on the guitar that gets me every time. The standing ovation was richly deserved.
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
Friday, March 14, 2014
The Greatest Dog Ever
Last night, the very talented Lee Hovland published a story she had written long ago about a dog we had when we were growing up. That very same woman might tell you that the greatest dog to ever live was Georgia. Some people would say Rin-tin-tin, Lassie, or Old Yeller-and they'd all be wrong. The greatest to ever live was Charlie. I don't remember any special tricks, but she could work magic. She'd listen to me tell her how mean my brother could be or how awful green peas really are or maybe even listen to how unfairly I had to sit in the corner until Dad got home. She'd sit there and listen as I scratched her ears and somehow everything would get better. She never griped about not playing fetch or ball and she understood how important it was to keep rabbits out of the garden. She never got tired of following kids around and mom knew we were near because the dog was near. Every where we went, Charlie followed. The school principal was not a fan of Charlie's. Come to think of it, the people at the grocery store didn't like her too much either, but you'd be really hard pressed to find a kid that didn't like her. I remember being shocked when someone told me you shouldn't mess with puppies while they were very young because it might upset the mother and she might bite. Apparently, Charlie never got that memo. On one occasion, I handled the puppies as soon as she cleaned them to count how many girls versus boys. She never growled, never bit, and it took me a long time to discover that she did have a mean bone in her body. She hated possums and coons. Cats were tolerated, as long as Charlie got to eat first. I can't tell you how many hours I spent scratching behind her ears. She was short and maybe a little chunky. Often when she nursed the puppies, she had green teats. She was lemon and white. I know when we got her, Daddy asked what did I want to name her and I told him Charlie. I think he was glad it wasn't something like princess or duchess which was so popular at that time. Mom was a little more curious and asked how I can up with that name. One of Dad's friends was a guy named "Charlie" and he was a little on the chunky side just like that puppy. Mom laughed and kept laughing every time she called the puppy. I don't remember which one of us really grew up faster-me or that puppy, but I know she was the first real love I had for someone that wasn't blood kin. I'm not foolish enough to believe that "All" dogs go to heaven, but I know that one did. Small comfort to a twelve year old kid. I think my heart broke into a million pieces when she left earth. For a long, long time I never let myself think about her or getting close to a dog again because the pain was just too great. Yeah, I know she was a dog and dogs don't live forever, but she was my first friend and the first loved one to ever leave so that first pain was deep. She's been gone 35 years now. I can still hear her bark and feel the scar in her side from a "coon" fight. My hands remember the feel of her fur.
Wish me luck. I am in search of a picture of Charlie. This may take a while.
Wish me luck. I am in search of a picture of Charlie. This may take a while.
Saturday, March 8, 2014
Happy 22nd Birthday Lauren
I hope you know much you are loved and how proud I am of you.
Saturday, March 1, 2014
Month of Mel with out the "l"
That's right it's not really the month of "Mel" but the month of "Me". Every day this month I will do something for me-which sounds really selfish, but if I become healthier and happier it only stands to reason that I will become a more pleasant person to be around, thus benefitting others. Since this is my first time, a learning curve is expected.
My first thing was to have pizza and beer. Dwight thinks this is because I like beer (I do) and pizza (I do). Some people have "Throw back Thursday" I have pizza and beer. Years ago, my great grandma lived with us. If she kept to her diet during the week, Mom would take her to Pizza Hut on Saturday night. My little bitty grandma loved sweets, but she loved pizza more. We didn't get to go every week. Probably three out four weeks of the month. I should mention that my great Grandma was four foot tall in heels and German. I never understood why my mom named me Katherine-when Grandma would never be able to pronounce that name. To her, I was Kaddie.
Back to the pizza. We'd be escorted to the very back of the restaurant-so far back, I remember moving boxes to put chairs around our table. Grandma had a discussion with the manager about sodas and pizza. Sodas are terrible for children, and no self respecting German has anything but beer with pizza. This kind of explains why we sat so far in the back. I thought we had tiny glasses of beer to go with our pizza. Much later I learned these were just shot glasses in the shape of beer mugs, but we were allowed to drink just one. Then, the manager would bring us a glass of milk-he remembered that sodas were bad for children. After the ride home, Grandma would help Mom get four sleepy kids out of the car and into bed.
Sometimes, she would rub my head and tell me what sounded like "Shotze, Ish libba dish" and if I could really spell you would know it translates to "Sweet heart, I love you". I hope Grandma knew that Kaddie loved her very much too.
My first thing was to have pizza and beer. Dwight thinks this is because I like beer (I do) and pizza (I do). Some people have "Throw back Thursday" I have pizza and beer. Years ago, my great grandma lived with us. If she kept to her diet during the week, Mom would take her to Pizza Hut on Saturday night. My little bitty grandma loved sweets, but she loved pizza more. We didn't get to go every week. Probably three out four weeks of the month. I should mention that my great Grandma was four foot tall in heels and German. I never understood why my mom named me Katherine-when Grandma would never be able to pronounce that name. To her, I was Kaddie.
Back to the pizza. We'd be escorted to the very back of the restaurant-so far back, I remember moving boxes to put chairs around our table. Grandma had a discussion with the manager about sodas and pizza. Sodas are terrible for children, and no self respecting German has anything but beer with pizza. This kind of explains why we sat so far in the back. I thought we had tiny glasses of beer to go with our pizza. Much later I learned these were just shot glasses in the shape of beer mugs, but we were allowed to drink just one. Then, the manager would bring us a glass of milk-he remembered that sodas were bad for children. After the ride home, Grandma would help Mom get four sleepy kids out of the car and into bed.
Sometimes, she would rub my head and tell me what sounded like "Shotze, Ish libba dish" and if I could really spell you would know it translates to "Sweet heart, I love you". I hope Grandma knew that Kaddie loved her very much too.
Monday, February 24, 2014
Hailey Owens Memorial Ride 2/23/2014
Usually it's best to start at the beginning, so I'll try to do just that. On Feb.18th, ten year old Hailey Owens was walking home from school. A man in a white truck called her over and she was kidnapped. Witnesses could not stop the truck but gave descriptions to the police. This man was not a stranger to Hailey. He worked as a teacher's aide and coach at her school. The Amber alert was issued and a suspect identified. By three am, her body had been found in his residence.
The news has been all over this story and had reported that her family needed help with funeral expenses. Not surprising. What family plans to bury a healthy ten year old? I saw an article about a motorcycle ride to help the Family pay for funeral expenses. I asked Dwight if he would mind going if the weather cooperated. Temperatures were forecast at forty-three with only a small chance of rain. I figured the sunshine would make the temperature feel like fifty and with a couple of extra layers, it would be just fine. Dwight just shook his head and said that he'd already looked into it. Translation: get your chaps, jackets, and chapstick ready-we leave early Sunday morning.
Temperatures in Jasper, Ar were around 39 and I fully expected the temperatures to get warmer later in the day as we headed north to Springfield, Mo. Boy, was I ever to be disappointed. When we got to Springfield, temperatures dropped to 33, the sun disappeared, and it was windy making the temperature drop even more. We bundled up and gave the bike a little test drive to get something warm to drink and make some changes in our gear. Dwight changed face masks and I added my leather vest to the ensemble and we stopped at McDonalds to get some much needed hot cocoa. I was a little nervous. I had on leather from head to toe(pink hair), and I've never gone into a public place looking like a member of Hell's Angels especially on a Sunday morning. Fears confirmed, heads turned as we walked in. I made my way to the restroom to wash up and this little old lady in her Sunday best grabbed my hands and told me "Thank you for what you're doing". I didn't have any problem making my way to the front counter to order our hot cocoa and enjoyed it with Dwight and our audience. Not much later, a lady walked up to Dwight and asked him what time the ride started and this stranger gave me a hug and said "thanks for what you're doing." I was glad Dwight got to see this lady, because I wasn't really sure he'd believe me about the bathroom lady. Before, she left I could hear her explaining to her table what we were doing there. We made our way to the American Legion Post thinking we were a good thirty minutes ahead of sign up. Apparently organizers had moved the time forward and we weren't early. Hundreds of bikes had already arrived. I was so proud to learn that more than 500 bikes from Arkansas had registered. I had no idea that other bikes were coming from Indiana, Illinois, and Kansas. It wasn't long before the parking lot filled up. There's a road that leaves from the Legion post to I44-it was filled up too. And the bikes kept coming. Every size, shape, and model. I heard that the family was arriving and things got really quiet. After things resumed to something normal, I made my way to the news vans to take some pictures. There was a pretty midnight blue truck with a magnetic sign that read "Hailey Owens is riding with us" and in the back, an immaculate bronze Harley tied down. I don't know if it was her life sized picture that did it or the Harley, but I just lost it. Took long deep breaths of air not to sob. This girl would never get to call herself a teenager. Her dad wouldn't get to teach her to drive. She and her mom would never pick out a prom dress. Hailey would never know what it's like to put on a senior ring. People can be too cruel.
Wiped my eyes and made my way back to Dwight, and it was time to say a prayer and the "Pledge". At the end of the "Pledge", there's always a couple of people that reave up their engines. It's a biker thing- a redneck thing-and something that's always done. It just kinda prepares me for when the announcer yells into the loud speaker, "start your engines". Just kinda. I grew up listening to loud engines and this shakes me to the core. The earth vibrates. The sound waves bounce off your body and I wear a helmet in hopes that some of my hearing will remain for my later years.
And we're off, through a tunnel of American flags. Pink and purple banners. Pink and purple were Hailey's favorite colors. Hundreds of bikes. Make that thousands of bikes. Turning onto the first road, I felt like a movie star. There were people lined up taking pictures and waving and they don't stop. Turning onto the second street, I look up ahead and there are bikes as far as I can see. Checking the rear view mirrors, my view doesn't change. Bikes as far as I can see. Rumbling down the street, Dwight slows to make a turn and a little boy makes his way pretty close to me and yells "God Bless the Bikers". Damn it. My face shield goes up. Let the people think the wind is making my eyes water and the cold temperature has my face turning red. My nice, warm fuzzy gloves come off because I'm gripping my camera and taking pictures. I've never seen anything like this. People are lined up for miles to wave at a bunch of bikers in freezing weather. Traffic stops for 2000 bikes even if there are no police escorts. Even on I44. Truckers blocked on ramps. People were stopped on the side of the freeway and on overpasses with banners. Bikes were far enough ahead of us, I could see little kids going crazy when the engines revved up under the over passes. When you rev up your engine in an over passes, it echoes. I really think the bikers enjoy it as much as the kids. I think some of the bikers got a huge kick out of the "Hooter" girls that came out to wave them on.
It cost fifteen dollars per bike to register with five dollars extra for each rider. With more than a thousand bikes (that's how many Dwight counted), that funeral is paid for.
Fifteen dollars is a small price to pay to have your faith in humanity restored.
The news has been all over this story and had reported that her family needed help with funeral expenses. Not surprising. What family plans to bury a healthy ten year old? I saw an article about a motorcycle ride to help the Family pay for funeral expenses. I asked Dwight if he would mind going if the weather cooperated. Temperatures were forecast at forty-three with only a small chance of rain. I figured the sunshine would make the temperature feel like fifty and with a couple of extra layers, it would be just fine. Dwight just shook his head and said that he'd already looked into it. Translation: get your chaps, jackets, and chapstick ready-we leave early Sunday morning.
Temperatures in Jasper, Ar were around 39 and I fully expected the temperatures to get warmer later in the day as we headed north to Springfield, Mo. Boy, was I ever to be disappointed. When we got to Springfield, temperatures dropped to 33, the sun disappeared, and it was windy making the temperature drop even more. We bundled up and gave the bike a little test drive to get something warm to drink and make some changes in our gear. Dwight changed face masks and I added my leather vest to the ensemble and we stopped at McDonalds to get some much needed hot cocoa. I was a little nervous. I had on leather from head to toe(pink hair), and I've never gone into a public place looking like a member of Hell's Angels especially on a Sunday morning. Fears confirmed, heads turned as we walked in. I made my way to the restroom to wash up and this little old lady in her Sunday best grabbed my hands and told me "Thank you for what you're doing". I didn't have any problem making my way to the front counter to order our hot cocoa and enjoyed it with Dwight and our audience. Not much later, a lady walked up to Dwight and asked him what time the ride started and this stranger gave me a hug and said "thanks for what you're doing." I was glad Dwight got to see this lady, because I wasn't really sure he'd believe me about the bathroom lady. Before, she left I could hear her explaining to her table what we were doing there. We made our way to the American Legion Post thinking we were a good thirty minutes ahead of sign up. Apparently organizers had moved the time forward and we weren't early. Hundreds of bikes had already arrived. I was so proud to learn that more than 500 bikes from Arkansas had registered. I had no idea that other bikes were coming from Indiana, Illinois, and Kansas. It wasn't long before the parking lot filled up. There's a road that leaves from the Legion post to I44-it was filled up too. And the bikes kept coming. Every size, shape, and model. I heard that the family was arriving and things got really quiet. After things resumed to something normal, I made my way to the news vans to take some pictures. There was a pretty midnight blue truck with a magnetic sign that read "Hailey Owens is riding with us" and in the back, an immaculate bronze Harley tied down. I don't know if it was her life sized picture that did it or the Harley, but I just lost it. Took long deep breaths of air not to sob. This girl would never get to call herself a teenager. Her dad wouldn't get to teach her to drive. She and her mom would never pick out a prom dress. Hailey would never know what it's like to put on a senior ring. People can be too cruel.
Wiped my eyes and made my way back to Dwight, and it was time to say a prayer and the "Pledge". At the end of the "Pledge", there's always a couple of people that reave up their engines. It's a biker thing- a redneck thing-and something that's always done. It just kinda prepares me for when the announcer yells into the loud speaker, "start your engines". Just kinda. I grew up listening to loud engines and this shakes me to the core. The earth vibrates. The sound waves bounce off your body and I wear a helmet in hopes that some of my hearing will remain for my later years.
And we're off, through a tunnel of American flags. Pink and purple banners. Pink and purple were Hailey's favorite colors. Hundreds of bikes. Make that thousands of bikes. Turning onto the first road, I felt like a movie star. There were people lined up taking pictures and waving and they don't stop. Turning onto the second street, I look up ahead and there are bikes as far as I can see. Checking the rear view mirrors, my view doesn't change. Bikes as far as I can see. Rumbling down the street, Dwight slows to make a turn and a little boy makes his way pretty close to me and yells "God Bless the Bikers". Damn it. My face shield goes up. Let the people think the wind is making my eyes water and the cold temperature has my face turning red. My nice, warm fuzzy gloves come off because I'm gripping my camera and taking pictures. I've never seen anything like this. People are lined up for miles to wave at a bunch of bikers in freezing weather. Traffic stops for 2000 bikes even if there are no police escorts. Even on I44. Truckers blocked on ramps. People were stopped on the side of the freeway and on overpasses with banners. Bikes were far enough ahead of us, I could see little kids going crazy when the engines revved up under the over passes. When you rev up your engine in an over passes, it echoes. I really think the bikers enjoy it as much as the kids. I think some of the bikers got a huge kick out of the "Hooter" girls that came out to wave them on.
It cost fifteen dollars per bike to register with five dollars extra for each rider. With more than a thousand bikes (that's how many Dwight counted), that funeral is paid for.
Fifteen dollars is a small price to pay to have your faith in humanity restored.
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