The Best Laid Plans...Again

   I had good intentions...really good intentions. No, not about New Year's Resolutions (gave them up years ago). I had truly wanted to be diligent about blog-posting every Thursday. Then, two giants created a roadblock. Giant #1 (Google...Blogger's papa) and Giant #2 (Apple...my main technology connection and master) do NOT play well together, making creating blog posts on my iPad a teeth-grinding experience. And, I'm not doing this to be consistently irritated. I'm doing this because I enjoy writing the posts and sharing pictures of our world. Sigh.

Still, I've always believed "where there's a will, there's a way." And that "way" involved digging out my ancient, steam-powered HP lugger-of-a-laptop. Folks, we are talking Methuselah here! We can't even recall WHEN we bought it, but my Microsoft Office Suite is dated 2010 (works just fine...way better than the awful, horrible, terrible web-based applications used now). But, I digress...slightly...

Anyway, in order to get the lug-top up & running to help me create my blog posts without screaming obscenities and tearing out what's left of my hair (as typically happens when I use my iPad to try to post on Blogger), said lug-top had to update...EVERYTHING. That's what you get when you don't turn a device on for over a year. Big sigh.

So, I get all of those ducks in the proper rows, but before I can start to compose my first post of the year, life intervened. In the most difficult way possible. My wonderful, kind, sincere, considerate, encouraging, intelligent, funny, and loving older brother*, Terry (that’s him with us in that picture above)...who had been diagnosed with Parkinson's a few years ago...received an amended diagnosis that was a blow to all: he had Lewy Body Dementia. Then, almost before we could begin to read, research, and digest just what this cruel disease meant, he was gone. 

LaDonna, Terry, Jack, & Maredith

I did not intend for this first Thursday post of the new year to be sad, but that's the prevailing feeling. So, instead of piling on more words of our woe of having to say the final goodbye to this beautiful soul, let me just pop in a few pictures of happier days.

*Terry was actually my older HALF brother, as our father Sidney and his mother Lenore shared a whirlwind WWII romance, followed closely by a wedding in her native state of Pennsylvania (where Daddy was sent to Officers' Candidate School after enlisting in the Army Air Corps in 1943). Terry was born in '44, but the end of the war and the end of their marriage happened in tandem. To truncate a really long and complicated story (the ends-and-outs of which still elude me), he grew up in PA..in Williamsport, home of the Little League World Series, no less...with his mom and her family while I spent the first 10 years of my life thinking I was (and exhibiting all the common traits of) the oldest child in the family. 

I learned of Terry's existence when I was 9 or 10, during a Sunday drive to visit the Stewart clan on the farm in Whiteville, TN. As usual, I was reading…probably a Nancy Drew mystery, if I had to guess…when I realized that the conversation floating back from my parents in the front seat was being carried on in whispers. I heard the same name mentioned at least twice, so of course I asked “who’s Terry?” Thought Daddy was going to run off the road…could tell Momma was thinking hard and fast about what to say next. She finally said, “it’s time to tell them.” And so, right there somewhere on a back road through West Tennessee, I learned (1) Daddy had been married and divorced before; (2) Daddy had another child…a son…who lived in far-off Pennsylvania (hey, this was the early 60’s…it WAS far-off!);and (3) most importantly to my existence, I had an older brother! How thrilling! So many questions to ask: who, what, where, when??! Unfortunately, I started with “what:” what’s his name? Daddy said “John Terrell Lunn.” It was Momma’s turn to “run off the road,” only she wasn’t driving. NO, she said…can’t be…that’s Jack’s name! Daddy realized his mistake and corrected course: William Terrell Lunn…also named after his mother’s father, but he’s always been called Terry. After that exchange, even I could tell that more questions would not be appreciated at that time. So I swallowed them…and tried to imagine what it would be like to have an older brother come live with us (what I didn’t comprehend was that Terry would have been 19-20 by this time…beginning his own life with the Navy and college…and most unlikely to move in with a family he didn’t know). Jack was definitely in the car that day…and he would have been 6 or so…but he says he doesn’t have any memory of any of this.

Even though Terry lived in Tupelo when I was attending MSCW in Columbus (!), and then he lived in Cordova when Jack lived less than a mile away and we had just moved from Cordova to Collierville (!!), we didn't actually meet until we were both in mid-life. Still, that was NEVER an impediment to our relationship (other than feeling deep regret that our 3 parents...the ADULTS...made some choices in those early years that were not in the 3 kids' best interests). From the first moment he arrived at our front door in Collierville, I felt an immediate connection to my brother Terry. It was like I had found the missing piece to make the jigsaw puzzle complete! The fact that he and I shared nearly every single Lunn characteristic (hair color, eye color, complexion, a smile that "includes the eyes," a square chin, and an insatiable interest in learning anything and everything about anything and everything) made it so easy to accept that I was a younger sister as well as an older sister.

We are leaving Thursday to drive to KY to be with the love of his life, my sweet SIL LaDonna, and to attend his Celebration of Life service, so I'm actually posting this Thursday's post on a Thursday. Will wonders never cease...

I'll do my best to get my act together when we get back next week and post a Thursday's Child post on our trip to KY. Fingers crossed the lug-top co-ops!

Here’s a link to Terry’s obituary:

Stunned

I was already having a bad day. You know the kind...anything that can go wrong, does so in spades. How could that be? I had found a four-leaf clover just the day before.

 

(Please be impressed with that photo. I have taken a couple of photography-in-the-garden classes recently, and putting the brown leaf behind the green clover for emphasis was something I learned.)

Anyway, I knew if I just kept plugging along, I'd make it through the quicksand that was my Wednesday...eventually. Hang in there. One foot in front of the other. Eyes on the prize. You know the drill.

Only, that's not how it worked out. It got worse...much, much worse. I learned that my college suite-mate had died quite suddenly and unexpectedly that day. She was a seemingly healthy Mom and grandmom, who had just returned from the gym when she collapsed in her kitchen. The paramedics couldn't revive her. And, as of today, there is no news on what happened. How? Why? So many questions...absolutely no answers.

I can only describe how I feel as stunned. LFC was a month younger than I am, and by all appearances, in much better condition. It hurts...mentally as well as physically...to think about it. 

F was a friend from my freshman year at (then) Mississippi University of Women. Born in Las Vegas, she hailed from Gulfport. She was adopted...and fortunate to have two extremely loving and caring parents. She was tall, thin, athletic, and pale blonde. And the first person I had known personally who could sing and play guitar. Not a star-type person...just a regular person, who was as talented as they come. 

The year we met was the year Carole King's Tapestry was released. There was a copy...or two...in every room on the second floor of Callaway Hall. Vinyl...cassettes...8-track. You name it, we played it...day and night. I know Aretha had made "You Make Me Feel Like a Natural Woman" a huge hit in the 60's after King wrote the song...but, when I hear the tune playing in my head, it's Carole King singing it.

And when I think of F, she's singing and playing "You've Got a Friend," an all-time favorite song from Tapestry, where James Taylor joins King for that track. Special request for that song, probably by me. Love(d) that song. Loved hearing F singing it. Love, love, love the memories.

We went through pledging and Hell Night together. We sang "Bond Eternal" ("Bonnie Turtle") together, wore ugly pink-and-silver dresses together, and became Rosettte sisters forever together. And through it all, she sang and played her guitar.

F asked me to be a bridesmaid in her wedding, and she served in ours. She even tried her hand at matchmaking, but that didn't work out quite as she'd anticipated. Thank goodness, as it happened, since my life turned out better than I could have known at the time. 

After she married, F went in one direction with her education and her life, and I headed off to the University of Southern Miss to finish one of those and begin the other. We parted ways.

As so often happens, we lost contact over the years. Mr. T and I made a happy life that included one daughter and moves to seven states. She and her husband had three children...and, by all accounts, a very fulfilling life, living out their strong faith. I believe they lived outside the USA for several years...and she became fluent in Spanish.

Then...through the miracle of Facebook, we reconnected. As our posts criss-crossed our timelines, we got caught up with each other's lives. I took great joy in reading about...and seeing pictures of her first grandchild...a little boy, and about her son's wedding. She probably got more than a few chuckles out of my gardening obsession. Sadly, due to the distance between our current homes, we never got to get together for a burger again. But it sure felt like we did. 

And, it felt like we could pick up our last conversation at the next W reunion...the big 4-0 in 2015. But that won't happen. And I'm stunned all over again. 

I'm guessing this wounded feeling will subside. And life will continue. I'll dig up some old photos and bring back some more good memories. But it will take more than a little time to get over the slightly off-center sensation that it can happen again...at a moment's notice.

Stunned, I tell you. Stunned.

Just One More Thing

We are back, Mr. T and I.  Yes, it's now just the two of us. True empty-nesters. Well, except for the three Basset Beasties, of course.

It's been almost a week since I last posted.  Mom's services were held in Bolivar, TN, and she was buried in Bethany Cemetery near Whiteville on Monday.  "Put me between Nananny and Daddy" were her instructions, and that's just what we did.

Even though we had a thunderstorm in the morning, it had passed long before 2:00. It was almost everything August is advertised to be in West Tennessee: extremely hot and humid.  No haziness, though...it was a bright, sunny day. Friends and relatives surprised us with their numbers: since Mom was 91 and had outlived almost all of her friends and generation of kin, we hadn't counted on such a nice turnout...which we experienced for both the visitation on Sunday and the services on Monday.  Cousin M officiated over the services that he and Mom had discussed back in June when she first went to Hospice Home, including the solo by his son, Cousin S, who couldn't be there in person.  Never fear: Cousin M brought a CD with his solo, and it worked out just fine! Mom would have been pleased.

We even had 15 or so join us for a gathering afterward.  Mr. T had secured the Hospitality Suite at the Hampton in Jackson where we stayed, and Bro J arranged for the BBQ and sides for a nice meal to share. Looking around the room, it was interesting to note that the majority came from the Lunn side...but again, Mom had outlived all of her Keaton kin and most of her Stewart clan.  Still, it says a lot about a person when her husband (who has been gone for 21 years)'s family drives halfway across the state to come to her funeral, doesn't it?  Says a lot about what a great bunch they are, too.

Heading home, we took the opportunity of being in Tennessee to stop by and visit my 103 year-old cousin in Dickson. A. is recovering from injuries she sustained in a fall, but let me tell you something:  she looks fantastic!  She still has the most beautiful skin...just amazing!



"Why, dear.  Look what else's at the
Crossville exit...where we're staying..."

 We stopped for the night in Crossville, which is in a lovely part of Middle Tennessee, right on the eastern edge of the Central Time Zone.  It's also the same exit where The Yarn Patch (photo, left) is located...what a coincidence (as I attempted to convince Mr. T...:)!   Ah, yarn therapy.

We relaxed by opening a bottle of wine, toasting the future, and taking a swim in the pool.  I began to feel the Little Black Rain Cloud that has been hanging over my head for months gradually diminish. Slowly but surely.

We got home and were pleasantly surprised by the pups.  We used a pet sitter for the first time, instead of taking them to the Glammer Slammer (AKA: the kennel)...and they were amazingly calm.  Well, after we had rubbed in and handed out duck jerky, of course.  They do have expectations.

We read all the sweet cards and expressions of sympathy that had arrived in the mail while we were gone.  We listened to the voicemails from old friends who had just found out.  And, we even brought in a flower arrangement that had arrived the afternoon of our return.

And, I guess you might think that that's the end of that.

Of course, that's NOT the end of that. There are papers to be signed, cards and correspondence to be written and mailed, and accounts to be closed. Phone calls must be made. And, many people must be thanked. The To Do List gets longer by the minute.

But, except for one thing on the list, I think I can handle it all without too many tears.  It's just that one thing that's weighing heavily on my mind and messing with my emotions.

That one thing?  Cleaning out Mom's rooms and closet. I haven't been able to do it yet, even though she has been gone from our house since June 9th...9 weeks today, to be exact. It seems like such a small thing compared to my childhood friends who just lost their mother two weeks ago (and who came to Mom's visitation, bless 'em): they have her whole house to go through.  I only have a couple of rooms and a closet.  And, it's not like there's anyone pushing me to get it done on any particular schedule.

It's me.  I believe that cleaning out her rooms and closet...deciding what to do with her possessions...is the major stumbling block for me moving ahead with my own life.  And, I am ready to move ahead.  I think.

Maybe I can break that one thing down into little bitty things.  Closet on one day.  Dresser the next.  Chest-of-drawers the following day.  And so on.  You know...the "only way to eat an elephant is one bite at a time" method of getting a big job done. 

Hey, it's worth a try.  I'll let you know how it goes.

Lost: 10 Days. If Found, Please Return.

Don't call out the gendarmes just yet.  I haven't fallen off the face of the earth.  It may just seem that way since I've been silent for several days.

It all started Monday, two weeks ago today, when we got the news that a cousin in Nashville had died.  Wendell was technically a cousin-in-law, if there is such a thing; but as Betty Jean's husband of over three decades, he was "family."  He'd battled esophageal cancer for many months, and as Brother J (who'd gotten very close to Wendell during his illness) said "it was time for him to go home."  Visitation was scheduled for Wednesday, with the funeral service on Thursday. 

The calls and emails began to fly.  Mr. T said he could get home early from his MD/DC/DE trip, and BFF AW said she'd be on hand to provide interim coverage at home (since N/M/E couldn't make that long drive) that would allow me to get on the road to Middle Tennessee by noon on Wednesday.  I booked a room for two nights with Brother J, as did Missy M and Brother T, who (along with Ella Rae) would drive down I-65 together from KY.  And, even though I didn't exactly leave HPNC on time, I made it to visitation, with about 4 1/2 minutes to spare.  And, no...no speeding tickets were issued to me in either NC or TN.

It's sad that it takes a funeral to get us together, but at times like these, we need to be with those we love, don't we?

Speaking of being with those we love...I took this photo of the three black dogs:  Ella Rae, Ellie Mae, and Buster, standing at the deck door at J&J's house.  That first night was tough on both the E's, as they each barked at the slightest noise in the house.  Kind of like dueling barkers.  One would bark upstairs (Ella Rae), then the other (Ellie Mae) would have to answer from downstairs. Made a good night's sleep an elusive dream to us humans. 

Oh well, that's what strong coffee is for, right?

After a pot of some potent Maxwell House, Brother T treated Missy M and me to a scrumptious breakfast at the Lovelace Cafe, heartily recommended by Bro J and SIL J.  I chowed down on a huge slice of their country ham...their claim to fame, along with their biscuits, which are hot and light, and great with butter...even though I am not a fan of their preserves and jams: not sweet enough for me.  Still, we enjoyed the food and the conversation before heading back to the house to get ready for the funeral.

I do not exaggerate when I say it was one of the hottest days of the year.  And humid.  Rained while we were inside for the service; then the clouds cleared away to allow the blazing sun to beat down on the puddles of water to create more hot and humid conditions.  In fact, so hot and humid that the funeral home staff had set out a cooler with ice and bottles of chilled water at the graveside.  Much appreciated by all.

Very little sleep.  Hot.  Humid.  And, did I say that in my haste to pack for the trip, I left my "vertigo-prevention" essentials (a cortisone-based nasal spray and the medication that helps keep a balance in fluids) at home?  As Mr. T said, "the perfect storm."

I was pretty wimpy that evening, but thankfully I did make it home before I got knocked off my feet with a full-blown vertigo episode...and, thank goodness, it has been a mild one, as episodes go.  Still, I've had several days of remaining horizontal (albeit with two pillows under my head...:) with BPPV.  Bit better now, thank you.  Slowly trying to get my life back up to speed, shall we say?  Had 164 emails today when I checked my messages for the first time in over ten days.

And my garden?  Oh dear.  While I was sleeping with vertigo, a terrific thunderstorm blew through with 65 mph winds...taking out the rest of the corn crop and flattening the flowers and tomatoes...stakes, cages, and all.  As I said to a friend, what's next?  Locusts?

We did do a little work this weekend when it was cooler (relatively speaking) and I was steadier, but I have much more ahead of me to repair the damage (Part 2)...and to get the rows ready for a Fall planting of greens.  Still, lest you think it's all bad news from the Way Back, I wanted to share these photos of some of the harvest.  A big beautiful cantaloupe, some slices of juicy tomato; a basket of peppers, corn, and squash...with a mess of purple hull peas; and a cold, sweet Jubilee watermelon...which you've seen grow from a tiny tadpole.  Yum!

It was the best of months, it was the worst of months...

...with apologies to Mr. Dickens...the title just seems to say it all.


I don't even know where to begin this first post of September. I suppose I should start where the month itself began...with a little vacation for N/M/E and me. We rented a PT Cruiser (see the photo, left/below; more on that in my next post) and headed to Gatlinburg via Missy M's house. We had a CD with Cyndi Lauper's 80's hit "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun," which became our theme song for the week. Had a great time, visiting many of our ol' haunts including the Apple Barn, the Old Mill, Newfound Gap, and The Christmas Place in Pigeon Forge. We also found a couple of new favorites, like Smoky Mountain Spinnery (yarn!) and Alewine Pottery. N/M/E seemed to thoroughly enjoy our trip, which included stopovers (both ways!) in Berea, KY (fabulous food and Arts & Crafts). Our last night out was spent back at Missy M's. Ella Rae wasn't too sure about us on our first visit, but she seemed to remember us when we returned. She's grown for sure, but she's still a teeny-tiny little ball of energy!

Home again, home again, jiggiddy-jog. Just in time to help Mr. T celebrate his birthday. Woo-hoo! Instead of a cake, I made him some apple fritters from a mix from the Apple Barn...served up with the bestest apple butter in the universe. Yum!

We were also "just in time" for the hot water heater to flood the basement. Replaced that. $$$. Bummer. Then, the kitchen disposal developed a leak. Replaced that. $$$. Deux Bummer. Oh, yes...and that thingama-gig in the tank of the toilet...yep, it needed replacing, too. Trois Bummer! Thank goodness Mr. T. is so willing and able to handle all these household maintenance madnesses. So, what else could go "out," you might ask? How about my 11-year old car (electrical short/blown fuse that made us think for one dreadful night that the transmission was a goner)? And (finally, I hope), the piece de resistance...the ice maker developed a "silent" leak into the baseboard...under the kitchen tiles...into the sub-flooring...and, gravity being what it is, down into the basement ceiling. No place to go but up from here, right?

Visits from both my brothers this month have helped keep us from being weighed down with woes. Brother T and I tried to set a record for gabbing, talking until nearly 2:00 a.m. one night...what fun! I'll bet he was glad to return home to be able to rest his vocal chords. Brother J was here, close enough to his birthday to rate a special dinner (Black Pepper Shrimp) and cake & ice cream...oh, and PRESENTS!


We were extremely fortunate to have survived the flooding from Hurricane Ike with little more than a full-to-the-brim rain gauge (5" at the top). Many friends and neighbors are still dealing with the aftermath of flooded basements. The worst we saw was in the photo (left) of the ducks on the water...which isn't a lake at all, but the third hole on the Par 3 Golf Course on Highway K, here in town. Duckworth Creek (appropriately named, eh?) couldn't empty into the Missouri River, which was above flood stage, so it went where it could. Good news...the water has since receded, and golf carts have replaced the ducks, as of Friday.

Still, all of the mishaps that have occurred are just little inconveniences in Life. As you know, the broken appliances...the water damage...the ailing car... can all be repaired or replaced. But, today, we learned of a sorrow that only time will help heal. The oldest of my first cousins on my Daddy's side passed away last night. Just writing these words brings a fresh round of tears to my eyes. She was loved by all that knew her...but, for me, the next-to-the-youngest of the Firsts...all the way down the line from her...she was truly a special person, one who gave me a marvelous gift. You see, she is the one who taught me how to knit when I was 9 years old. House slippers. Made with acrylic yarn on size US 10.5 needles. Taught me how to knit and how to purl (but I had to go home before she could teach me how to bind off...:). And, even if she hadn't been such a kind, loving, funny and fun-loving sweetheart, I'd still forever be grateful for that gift. Betty Jean, you will be sadly missed.

Heeeere's Paula!

What a weekend! We had tickets to the Paula Deen Live! Show in Nashville at the Tennessee Performing Arts Center (TPAC) on Saturday morning. Thomas, Maredith, and I had fantastic seats, right in the middle of the packed-to-the-rafters auditorium, and we were wowed by it all. Paula (photo, right) is a hoot!! She chatted with her audience as if we were old friends dropping by her house...she even had a sofa, chair, and ottoman on stage alongside her kitchen (complete with the latest Viking appliances, of course). As you can see in the photo (below, center), her husband, Michael, joined her onstage, alongside the MC Jim (who had a fabulously deep voice) and her Kitchen Assistand du jour Rebecca, and they all vied for the honors of being named "Life of the Party." Paula's table was set for 8 guests, who enjoyed the menu prepared on stage: golden fried pork chops, Lady & Sons Mac & Cheese, and collards. We got the recipes with the program...and, of course, I intend to try them very soon. Well, I'll substitute turnip greens for the collards, because as Paula said: "I just prefer turnip greens." I guess I'll have to fix green beans for Thomas, though, as he doesn't like either one. Here's a photo (left) of us as we entered TPAC to find our seats. And (right), here's one of Maredith. As you can probably see, we are both holding our Paula Programs.

Can you also tell that Maredith's gotten her hair cut? Isn't she beautiful? And that beauty is inside as well as outside. She had been growing her hair long to donate the 8-10" cutting to make wigs and hairpieces for cancer patients. What a wonderful gift!

Here's another Paula photo (below, center) for you to enjoy:


"Who is Paula Deen?" If you are asking that question, you might want to check her out on the Food Network...or on her own website: http://www.pauladeen.com/. I can't begin to explain her...you just have to see for yourself!

The one sad note in the weekend was that Mom couldn't join us as we had planned. She went to Memphis with J&J to attend the funeral of a cousin who passed away just a couple of weeks after his 96th birthday. Although I find most funerals to be so sad, Mom assured me that it was truly a celebration of his long life, including the testimonials of those whose lives were enriched for having known MJS. He will be missed.