What's In a Name?

I have to share two precious grandchildren stories about names. One day I called Jaron, my 4-year-old grandson, Sweetie Pie. He frowned at me and said, "I'm not a pie! Just call me Sweetie." My second story happened with Madison (6) as we were going to Macon recently. She asked if it was hard for me to leave my parents when I moved out. I answered, "No, because I was in love with Grandpa, and I wanted to live with him." She hesitated a moment, then said, "You don't have to call him Grandpa, you can call him Blaine."

Something to Cry About

I am told when I was a baby I would cry in my baby bed, and then stop when Mom picked me up. My father was not going to put up with that, so when he came in from working in the field one day, he smacked me with his straw hat every time I cried. I would stop from the surprise, and I was cured of crying for attention. Later in life, I remember a July 4th celebration (my friend Kathy was there) and a fire cracker went off in my hand. I blubbered self-righteously until Daddy threatened to “give me something to cry about” if I didn’t stop. Now, I do not feel I was abused one bit, because I never remember getting a spanking in my life. Daddy would just look at me, and I would stop whatever I was doing! One would think, therefore, that I would have learned not to cry, but I cry very easily. I cry at sad movies and AT&T commercials where they phone home to their mothers. I cry when someone else is crying, just in sympathy. My dad is 91 years old. I cried when I left him in the assisted care unit of the nursing home, even though he asked to go, and he likes the regular meals, care, and socialization.
Daddy called me today. He said he didn’t want to bother me, but I told him to call me anytime, and that I was glad that he called. He said, “Thanks a whole big bunch. Bye.” I heard his voice choke with tears.

I guess I gave him “something to cry about.”

My First Blog

My daughter, Valerie, began blogging and told me I should do it, too. "But I don't want everyone to know what I am thinking," I told her. Then I began reading her blogs, and I loved them. I think she is an excellent writer. Wonderful connections came about because of her writing. Valerie was able to share her feelings about motherhood with her dear friend Tabitha. She also found my lifelong best friend's daughters and began to know them through their shared experiences. The final push was when my aforementioned best friend, Kathy, began blogging. I read her entries and love feeling reconnected. I remember following Kathy into the first grade room to sign up for school. This was the time before we had kindergarten. We received balloons and mine popped. I remember a slight disagreement in which Kathy said it "burst" and I said it "busted". We always did love words! Then we wrote stories together in grade school and high school. After we married we did freelance writing and wrote letters to each other (before the days of e-mail). So here I am, following Kathy into the blogging world. Thanks, Kathy Marlene, and thanks to Valerie, who encouraged me and helped me set up my account.