Homemade Soup… Beautiful Fall Day… Song By Wind Chimes And Breeze


Homemade Soup… Beautiful Fall Day… Song By Wind Chimes And Breeze

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

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Well… I got up early this morning, got my wonderful shower, dressed.  I fed our three Pups a nice breakfast in their freshly-washed bowls.  I never feed their meals in a dirty bowl.  I, also, have them a treat bowl each.

 

All are stainless steel bowls.  I put a rawhide chew, and two milk bones in each treat bowl for after they eat their breakfast.  I love to watch them get a treat, go lay down and chew contently.

 

This morning is cool, breezy, sunny.  It’s another beautiful fall day.  I had to go outside… I did.  I raked, cleaned the Pups’ fenced-in yard.  It’s all sand now, thanks to the ‘swimming pool fiasco’ this summer (you can find it on my blog… happycolorsandgrannygee.blogspot.com).  We always keep a clean yard for the Pups.  They love to run, play… and slide around in the soft sand.  The sand is wonderful… though… it can cause a dog to itch.  I have to brush them, often.  It’s important to keep their yard clean.

 

I came back inside… the next thing I know… I’m making a homemade soup.  Oh my… today’s a wonderful day for homemade soup.  It celebrates fall time,

welcomes the cooler air.  I have it simmering now.  I have the doors open, I can hear the sound of my wind chimes as the breeze playfully blows them… they are

singing ‘it’s fall time, it’s fall time’!  My favorite time of the year… my favorite song by my wind chimes.  :)))

 

Homemade soup, a beautiful fall day… song played by wind chimes and breeze… it is a special day.  I may go out on the porch later, eat at the patio table… while I watch the clouds shift, change shapes in the clear, blue sky!

 

I Wished To Be Santa Claus… Make That Little Boy’s Wish Come True… Bullying


 

I Wished To Be Santa Claus… Make His Wish Come True (Little Twin Boy)… Bullying  by Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

 

My attention was drawn to the tv screen. A photo of twins was being shown… the news was on. The twins were a boy and a girl. It seemed the
little boy had written a letter to Santa Claus. They were young… maybe 9-10 years old.

He didn’t ask for anything for himself. He asked for Santa Claus to help his sister… to stop the bullying of his sister. The photo showed the little
girl to be chubby; enough chubby to draw attention to her from other children. Enough so… that the bullies of the school could have a good time
making fun of her, pushing her around.

I can’t go any farther about her… I don’t know anymore than what was said above, and the last sentence I could imagine. I do know about being a
cute, little chubby girl. I don’t remember of course, how my mother let me be a little chubby girl… heck, I didn’t know I was! But… I do remember
being made fun of, when another child became angry at me.

The kids in my own ‘family’ devastated me when they would become mad at me, make fun of me. I look back at my photos as a child… I was pretty,
and a little chubby, not even grossly so. Amazing….

It hurt me deeply, even to the point of ‘wishing to die, and they’ll be sorry they hurt me like that’. It’s just a wonder with all I had to live with ‘at home‘,
and all that occurred at school… that I didn’t succeed in committing suicide. It did come to that point… I didn’t succeed, and that’s another story. But…
it happened.

A child is very sensitive… and people don’t realize how close they push a child … ‘out of this world’. I watch on the news… often, you will see a young
child that… succeeded… in doing what ‘I almost did’. Bullying… made fun of… made to feel less than… made to feel worthless… and when it comes from
not only from their classmates, and peers…. combined with an awful ‘home’ life… it’s scary.

I know… I was ‘that child’… I know how a little abused, bullied child is made to feel… how when all the other kids, plus… your family makes your world
‘the end’. I remember as a little girl when my whole world ‘went to hell’ because of things I didn’t understand…. divorce, me being thrown into ‘hell’ where
the whole world was dirty, scary… rats, roaches … things I’d never known about, even seen.

I remember going to school after surviving hell each day at ‘home’…. I’d ‘survive hell’ in school… only to come ‘home to hell’ each evening. Never any peace… always afraid, nervous, trembling. I was learning to fight to survive… I made it until I was thirteen… and I ‘broke’. But, the good thing is… I survived that, too,
to only go to another ‘hell’… to my father’s home. A beautiful ‘hell’, everything clean, wonderful, nice…. but, I was the only one there… who wasn’t wanted. I
learned I was just a ‘step-daughter’… I was treated just that way. I could go on and on… but, that’s for more stories… later.

Back to the twins… the little boy cared so much about his sister being hurt. That means his precious, little heart hurt each day to see the ‘hell’ being pushed
on the closest person to him… his twin. How sad is that? How beautifully sad… is that? It touched my very heart… I wished to make all the bullying go away
for that child…. that precious, little girl. I wished to be ‘Santa Claus’ and make that little boy’s wish come true.

 

Room Of Empty Bottles…


ROOM OF EMPTY BOTTLES…

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES

 

 

 

I was limping, I stopped, pulled my loafer off to look at the heel of my foot. It was bleeding and had little holes in my heel. Those nails were cutting into my heels, it hurt so bad. The inside of both of my shoes were bloody. 


For so long… I had to wear these shoes… at one time they were pretty, and didn’t bite into my feet to make them bleed each day. No one ever knew… I was too ashamed… too proud to let anyone know how I suffered. I would try to wipe the blood out of them each evening… I hated the smell of blood. That’s what the inside of my shoes smelled like… blood.

I wished for a new pair of shoes, but, I thought no farther than that. The pain was too great. I just wanted to get home, I was tired from being in school all day… I had fought my daily ‘battles’ there, as I did each day. Not physically, but.. mentally.

My classmates, other kids made my life harder, never knowing how they contributed to my pain… pain I hid from them. No one knew how I suffered both…. mentally, physically. I was someone they could pick on and take attention off their ‘imperfections’. Yes, I made it easy for them to ‘point with their finger to direct attention away from themselves’. I had to walk 2 blocks to get home… I wanted to take those shoes off my feet.

I worried at how I’d find my beautiful mother. Would she be herself today, or would she be a ‘monster’ today. Everyday I always had to wonder what I would find when I got to the house my mom had gotten for her and I … this was now… home.

I had my own bedroom and sometimes at nights I would wake from nightmares. One of the nightmares would be of my mama being under my bed having convulsions. I couldn’t bear for anything to be wrong with my mama. To think about how much I loved her… brought tears to my eyes.

It was an awful nightmare that haunted me for years…. in my dream I would hear something under my bed, I would slip out of bed and look underneath… my mom would be lying on her back having a convulsion.

I would be sick at heart and scared when I woke up. I worried so much about my mom. Men tried to take advantage of her when she ‘wasn’t herself’. They would come here to this new ‘home’. I hated them.

I loved it when my mama was ‘my mama’… I loved my mama. She would smile, her eyes would sparkle with mischieviousness, and happiness, she would talk and laugh with me. She was so fun, and so beautiful! I was proud of my mama when she was like this. I wasn’t proud when she was like…..

I came inside the house, I was looking around sensing like I did every day to know if ‘mama was my mama’…or… if today she would be the ‘monster’.

I heard her in the kitchen, I followed the sound. She had her back to me and I couldn’t tell just yet. “Hello mama”, I said. She turned around and smiled at me. I took a deep breath and thought inside ‘thank-God’… that’s my mama! I knew we’d have a good evening talking and laughing.

I walked by the little room we called a pantry. There was nothing in there, excepting…. even today I see this little room as I stand in the doorway…. bare wooden floor, sunshine coming in from the one window in there… over in the far corner a stack of clear medicine bottles piled up high in the corner…. sloping down toward me on the floor… dusty floor.

The sun was shining on the bottles, in each bottle I could see a little liquid… it was very pretty in the sunlight. It was green liquid. This room of empty bottles always made me sick to my heart. These bottles with the green liquid turned my mama into the monster she became for about three days at a time. She made my life pure hell and I was frightened of her.

The pile of empty bottles kept growing … as it grew, I knew firsthand ‘why’. My mother drank it… it changed her from beautiful to a monster. In my mind, at the age of thirteen, the only name I could think of to describe my mama when she changed …was ‘monster’. She was mean and very cruel to me. When she was my mama… she would never be mean to me.

My heels hurt so bad. I had to wear hand-me-down shoes, the nails in the heels were coming through… my feet bled and hurt. I never thought past that… I thought probably that was the way life was supposed to be. I never complained. I went into my bedroom to take my shoes off.. I just wanted to feel the cool hardwood floors on the bottom of my feet.

I ran into the kitchen to talk to my mama. Edna, my only friend, had come to see us. She lived next door to us. She was always so nice, and I thought alot of her. My mother liked her, too.

We all three were standing around the dining table, we were drinking glasses of chocolate milk. I still see the image in my mind, how funny and happy that time was. Someone said something so funny, that unexpectedly I became so tickled that I began laughing, chocolate milk spraying from my mouth.

I remember looking at my mother’s eyes to see if she got mad. Her eyes were so full of surprise, and she began laughing harder. That was one of the happiest moments in my life with my mama. She never got mad at me for the chocolate milk… we all cleaned it up.

Several days went by, all went well. I was growing more tense by the day… ‘it was time’. It was time, my mama was going to be a monster soon. It never failed. I wished so much my mama would stay the same way. I never told anyone at school what I lived with at home. Even as a child I was very private about ‘what really went on in my life’. I protected everyone by not saying anything… it also, kept attention off me.

I was moved from here to there, made fun of depending on ‘who’ I lived with… I dressed good here, dressed bad there. I don’t think anyone ever asked me why I’d come to school for a while, be gone for months or maybe a year or so, come back. It was a pattern.

The teachers even began to make comments saying that my mama ‘not only looked just like Elizabeth Taylor, she got married as many times as Elizabeth Taylor’, and moved as many times. They never realized ‘it was only me’ that was moved many times… they wouldn’t have cared anyway.. they all had good lives and couldn’t ‘see’ past that.

I would feel embarassed, but, I accepted that as part of my life. I didn’t complain, I cried only when my feelings were hurt or I was physically hurt. I don’t remember crying over something I couldn’t have… somehow, I knew I wasn’t good enough to have things. To have things one had to be like the girls who gave me that present with deodorant, soap and lotion. They lived in cosy, nice homes with real parents, cars, and they got to be in the Brownies, and in different things at school. At that time, I knew I wasn’t ‘good enough’, also… there wasn’t money for anything I needed. I never asked, I didn’t think to.

Oh no! I heard something falling to the floor in the kitchen when I came in the front door. I felt that familiar dread, sick feeling in my stomach, my hands began trembling. I walked slowly to put my things in the bedroom. I knew I had to see my mama sooner or later. I hoped she wouldn’t scream at me. I took my hated shoes off my feet.

I tiptoed quietly to see where my mom was, I heard her. She was in the kitchen. She’d made a mess on the table. The ‘monster’ was here now. I was afraid. I was sick to my soul, life was going to be hell for several days.

My mama began screaming at me to do this, to do that. I couldn’t bear hearing her voice full of anger at me. What did I do? The whole evening went like that… she was cussing, ranting and raving at me. I asked her once could I go outside and play in the street with the kids. “Hell no!” she screamed at me. “You have too many things to do in here!”

I gradually sneaked off to my bedroom to get away from her. I couldn’t feel good being in there with her, nor here in the privacy of my bedroom. She could come in here at any minute to scream at me. My mama did just that! Her face would be contorted into a face that I didn’t know, a horrible monster face with demon eyes looking out at me. It seemed she took pleasure in making me cry, hurting me so, that I would. She hated me when she was a monster. ‘Why’… I didn’t know.

Life was hell, and it grew to the point that I couldn’t take anymore of it…. I didn’t have anywhere to feel safe at, I was hated at home, at school… no one would look at me, if they did they ‘looked down’ at me. I’m sure they thought I was white trash. A girl had already called me a whore… I didn’t know what that meant. I was labeled with names I hadn’t deserved ..or earned as a child, much less knew the meanings of.

My mama whom I loved with my very heart… could become a monster just at anytime. I didn’t know exactly ‘why’ she’d become a monster but, I did know it had something to do with all those clear bottles in the pantry…. in that big pile that sloped down… in the sunlight those bottles were pretty… each held a small amount of green liquid in them… the ‘whole’ picture of those bottles was … pretty. Colors attracted my attention… the pretty green always drew my eyes toward it.

Somehow, I ‘knew’ that green liquid in those bottles contributed to the hell I lived in for that period of time. Yes, each and every one of those empty bottles affected my young life in some way… many ways. Not only that… my beautiful mother’s life. We were both victims.

That room of empty bottles… with the little splash of green color in each one. Empty bottles, green liquid… all sloping from high up in the corner into a pile downward toward the door… toward me, when I stood there. I never thought to taste it… to see if I’d like it. I knew that I liked that pretty color… green. I liked how the clear glass bottles sparkled in the sunshine… diamonds and emeralds… that’s what they made me think of, in that room of empty bottles.

Those bottles, that beautiful liquid of emerald green had… strange powers. Those crystal clear glass bottles… with a splash of emerald green mixed with the golden light of the sunshine piled high in that corner… only a dusty floor beneath them, and bare walls around them, one window letting the sun shine through to highlight… those empty bottles, empty excepting for the little splash of emerald green in each bottle. I remember those bottles so well.

Those bottles made such an impression on me the day I walked into the door of that room… I don’t remember seeing that ‘pile’ grow… I just remember the pile that was so high. That pile of bottles … if one had taken a photo of it, it would have made a pretty piece of art… colors of crystal clear, golden light, emerald-green liquid in a stark, empty room…with a dusty floor.

Know that this author loved her mother with her very heart, know that she would be rich just counting the tears she cried just for her mama in her whole life. Just think how rich I would be if I counted the tears for ‘all’ the ones I’ve lost in my world…

I miss my mama with my heart. She was a very good-hearted person… she really would give you the last thing she had if she knew you needed it. She was beautiful, no matter the life she had… addictions are powerful. We all have had one or the other in our lives… habits are hard to change. They become ‘one with us’ until we no longer recognize ourselves or… others recognize us…… without them. We can’t live without them. I always ‘saw my mama’, I always recognized my mother.

In my life my ‘addictions’ have been smoking as a young woman, it took almost dying and forgetting there was such a thing as a cigarette… to break my addiction. I never remembered smoking after I entered the world between ‘life and death’. I know firsthand how powerful that addiction is. My next addiction was/is ….. eating good foods. Just these words in this paragraph… think about them………….. if you smoke ..you are knowing exactly what I mean.

If you don’t… ‘feel’ the power of those words and ‘know’…… that once people are addicted, it’s not easy to ‘let go’…. of anything. I have compassion, empathy for people who fight addiction, because in ‘my own way’…. I know and have this to compare with.

I can look around me, watch tv… I know that I’m not alone in this ‘addiction/habit’ of … eating. We eat for comfort, pleasure in tastes and textures of different foods as well as for satisfying our hunger.

I constantly ‘fight the battle of obesity’… I’m fighting it now, and actually doing very good in my struggle. As a young woman… to stay ‘beautiful, perfect’… I could only eat a couple of spoons of food, or eat several very tiny bites of food, only drink mostly liquids, dance and walk, run… to stay small enough to wear sizes 8-9. Oh… I would look at my beautiful designer clothes and know if I wanted to wear them… I would continue to starve myself. I know what it’s like to be ‘on both sides’.

I would like to add…. ‘everyone loved me, Gloria’… when I starved myself… and stayed so tiny. I was popular, what I thought …mattered, when I spoke…everyone heard me no matter how softly I spoke. I was ‘perfect’ as long as I ‘had that addiction to starvation’. I had to suffer for years to be so popular, so ‘loved’, so ‘perfect’………… I was the most imperfect being in this whole world. Strange ‘how we humans’ …….. ‘see and think’. Don’t you agree?

I suffered to be loved and thought of as ‘somebody’. For a number of years now… I am only myself, I don’t starve for anyone’s attention or their love… I like myself.

I wonder if my mom’s addiction began at some point to make her more acceptable in other people’s eyes, more beautiful, more ‘perfect’? Something made her have a ‘starting point’…. all addictions …do. She was ‘perfect’ in her beauty, her personality… just being herself. Of course, like people who have entered ‘that world’………. it becomes ‘more than that’… they begin to not be able to live without what they ‘need’. It’s almost ‘too late’ for them.

My heart breaks for people who go through their ‘own hells’ while living here on earth…. my feeling is that when you live in ‘hell’ while here…. you go to heaven when you die. You’ve earned it by the time you die. My opinion only… I know you have yours…. I respect it, as I know you will mine.

I am sitting here… I see that ‘room of empty bottles piled high in that corner’…….. with a little splash of emerald green in each….. beautiful, golden sunshine making all ‘sparkle’….. magic. My favorite jewelry is gold and diamonds, emeralds… I wear only gold and diamonds… maybe one day a emerald. I would think of those bottles, and their power.

I’m glad I never thought once of…… tasting that beauty… it never lured me excepting to see ‘the art, the colors, the way those bottles sloped down to the dusty floor, sunshine making the bottles, liquid… sparkle’. Such beauty in that ..somehow. Strange, isn’t it… strange how I think that… looking back.

 

They Had Better Hurry Up And Enjoy Their Food Before They Are Turned Into Crackers!


Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

They Had Better Hurry Up And Enjoy Their Food Before They Are Turned Into Crackers!

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

Skip and I spent a nice day together.  We had things to do, places to go.  :)))

We decided to go to Kentucky Fried Chicken to have lunch.  Skip likes to go there on Monday, Tuesday… so, he can get the ‘senior citizen‘s discount’.

We went to the buffet bar, got our meals; sat down to eat.  I sat there, people-watched.  I noticed all the ‘old-timers’ were coming in for the ‘senior citizen discount’… it was very noticeable.  Only a few people were young in there.  :)))

I was enjoying my lunch when Skip said something that made me almost choke in laughter.   It hit me as so funny.  You see, I’ve been telling Skip that one day probably before we die… ‘we old people‘ are probably going to be turned into crackers, wafers to be a food source for the world.

I am reading so much lately about things happening in the world that was in books to read for entertainment when I was a young person.  Now… these ‘crazy’ things are becoming reality!  For example, the drones…. they’ll be everywhere spying on people… and no one will notice them… they will look like little insects.

In some restaurants… drones can be used to ‘fly’ food to the seated customer at their tables!   I read that one day ‘soon’, drones will be used to deliver pizza … after obtaining permission to fly over people’s property… permission to use their ‘air-space’.  Isn’t it amazing?

Some things I’ve read… concern me.  It brings back to me, a memory of a movie I watched as a young person.  Lately, it’s been on my mind… the name of the movie is Soylent Green (Thank-you, my friend, Prenin, in England… for helping me to remember the name of the movie).  I just received the movie in the mail; I ordered it from Amazon.com.

I haven’t seen this movie since being very young… it made an impression on me.  It’s about feeding the masses of people, and the food source used.  Old people…. if I remember right… were turned into crackers/wafers for people to eat.

Yeah… they were eating their grandmas, grandpas…. right and left!  I don’t have to worry about that… I don’t have either one left in this world… and I have no desire to eat your grandma, grandpa… so, they are safe with me!

I’m going to take time to watch this movie soon.  I can’t wait to see it again… to see if I remember right.

Anyway… I’ve been getting Skip interested in watching this movie.  I told him about the food source in the movie… he agreed there’s no telling what will ‘happen one day’.

I saw a group of ‘old’ people come into Kentucky Fried Chicken.  I watched as they walked up to the counter to order.  They were given their trays, cups… everyone walked to the buffet bar to get their food.

I was watching as they began walking to their table… I was in my own world, deep in thought, thinking about that movie… when I heard Skip say…

“They better hurry up and enjoy their food before they are turned into crackers!”

Photos Of My Straw Bale Garden…


Photos Of My Straw Bale Garden…

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

 

 

Today, I took photos of my straw bale garden.  There are little tomatoes on some of the plants.

 

I saw one bell pepper growing, and I see yellow blooms on the squash vines.

 

This is the week we get our grass cut, so… please excuse the ‘tall’ grass.  Our yard doesn’t normally look like this.  It is mowed every two weeks.

 

We got lots of heavy rain off Andrea, the tropical storm. Today, it seemed like the grass grew much higher.  :)))

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You can see my ‘makeshift’ fence that will be easily taken down at the end of summer.  This is to keep the deer out.  I didn’t make a big straw bale garden, as this is an experiment.  I wanted to see how it does.

 

I like the idea of using the bales.  So, next year… Skip will get more bales for me to play in.  I was thinking I’d like to have like two rows stacked, one row along side of that… or maybe just 3 rows stacked… with plants growing out from the sides.  :)))

 

The fence is a portable dog fence… that is stretched out, connected to the gate (with the orange garden hose).  The gate is connected to the Baker’s Rack that I use for gardening.  All can be taken down in a matter of minutes… no one the wiser.  How simple is that?

 

Oh, I have containers, experimenting with them.  I read about using different containers like people do in big cities on their balconies… to garden.  I cut in half 2 liter bottles, and the gallon water jugs from water we purchase, to recycle them.  They work rather well, for a small garden like I have. I can throw them away easily at the end of summer, also.

 

This is my update on my straw bale garden.  A lot of people have been asking.  I’m sure some of you who did plant one… have beautiful plants in yours.  Happy gardening!

I Don’t Like You… I Won’t Ever Like You, No Matter What


Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

3 years old… Visiting Grandma Alma’s at this time… before ‘Hell‘…

 

I Don’t Like You… I Won’t Ever Like You, No Matter What

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

 

I don’t like you… the feeling is mutual… I know you don’t like me.  That’s okay… we can play the game of life, games… we as people, play… we pretend to like each other… when we meet in public, thank-God when we get gone from each other… I could barely stand to be around … you.

 

Isn’t it such a relief to ‘get past’ someone you meet out in public… someone that you can’t like no matter what?  Someone, that if given the choice, you’d rather be hit with a broomstick… than to speak to, to look at… much less to hear that voice you ‘so hate’….

 

‘Just beat me with that broom’… I don’t want to be around you.  You have made my life ‘Hell’ at one time or other… I didn’t deserve it.  You mistreated me because you hated others in my… family.  Shame on you… you never gave me a chance.  I learned anyway… the hard way… you ‘didn’t keep me down’…..

 

I told you I’m not perfect… I don’t like a lot of people… and the feeling is mutual, I’m sure.  I have a lot of feelings built up inside me… from living in a small town as a child, where the people treated me unkindly… they ‘didn’t see me’… they just ‘knew where I came from’… from ‘those people who raised Hell all the time’…

 

I never forgot it… I never will forget it… and when I look into those hateful faces… I remember.  I don’t like you, I never will, and… you can’t make me… no matter what.  You hurt a little innocent girl… who wanted to be loved.  Now…

 

As a little girl, you should have shown me kindness… I couldn’t help ‘where I came from, who my family was, how little they had’.  You helped to contribute to some of the paths I got on as a young person… thankfully, I got my ‘ass’ off them when I learned that I’m not a bad person.

 

I always had to learn the hard way… why… you could have made it easier for a small girl… but, no… you made life harder for me with your hateful faces, your harsh voices, your mean ways… you froze me out with your terrible selves.

 

Not only that, you put your little children up to torment me, make my young life harder… almost to the point of suicide.  Bullying… I know what bullying is… I see a guy now…who bullied me as a little child every day of my life that I lived at my Grandma Alma’s.  Do you know… he’ll see me… he can’t look me in the face.  I still feel anger, hatred toward him… I would love for him to ‘bully me now’… he ‘knows, remembers’ what he did.

 

I hope you got your medicine back… only just enough to learn your lesson, see how it felt… I don’t wish bad on you… only ‘what you deserve’… no more, no less.

 

Actually, I’m a very forgiving person… for years I was friends with a woman who looked down on me with her hateful, mean face when I was a little girl.  She hated my mother, and her sisters… her husband liked… all of them.  She took it out on me….

 

Do you know… we ended up living beside each other… I grew to love that woman dearly… I forgave her.  She learned that I wasn’t ‘what she thought I ‘would be’… the sad thing is, that when I thought of her ‘back then’…. I always saw her eyes staring at me, hating me because I was my mother’s child.

 

When I lived beside her… she grew to love me, care about me.  I’m sure with my mother’s beauty… her sisters’ beauty… a lot of young women hated them with a passion… they knew they were pretty, and they were young, full of life… and they were… wild.

 

I remember when I was fourteen, a girl my age called me a … whore.  I didn’t know what that meant… she said it with such anger, her eyes blazing fire at me.  She said her mother said I was a ‘whore … like my mama’… the hatred I felt from her…

 

I cried, I have always remembered the pain I felt… especially when I found out what that word ‘whore’ meant.  I’ll never forget standing there, stunned at ‘why did they call me such a name’?  I felt so embarrassed, ashamed for something I just didn’t understand… but, I ‘knew’ was ‘bad’…

 

I would like to say I’ve never been a ‘whore’, of course, I’ll never be one.  I would like to say that when some people are ‘pretty, attractive’… sometimes, people who are jealous will say mean things to hurt them… to make them look bad.

 

It’s sad when a little child is affected by it all… and life is already hard for them.  In my case… I had so many things to ‘fight, survive’… but, I did it.  It’s okay now… over time with all that’s happened in my life… I needed to be so ‘extra-strong’… to come through it all.  Thank-you, you mean people…

 

I still see faces from the past… there are still ‘older people living’ who were mean to me… there are some of their children who live now, are my age… who were cruel to me.

 

I see your hateful faces now… I should hate you, but… I don’t.  Guess what?  I don’t like you… I won’t ever like you… nothing you can do will make me like you.

 

Sometimes, I do like you… then, you turn me against you once again with your hateful face the next time I see you.  When the next time comes… I don’t have time for you.  Go your way, I’ll go mine… I don’t have to play games with you… at all… too many real things in life more important.

 

I don’t hate you… and truthfully, I still talk to people who were mean to me as a little girl.  I ‘try to like them’… I just don’t, though.  I try hard, though… it’s like trying to like someone who has thrown their dirty bath water on you… you don’t forget the… smell.  You can’t go but, so close to them.  You don’t mean to be that way… but, life is like this sometimes… it’s real.

 

I was thinking about this tonight… as I thought about a woman I met up with recently.  I used to work with her… we all had to do her work in the office… she’d get flustered, couldn’t handle all that went on.

 

We would do her work, our work… it wasn’t pleasant to come to work, and have to begin catching up her work she didn’t complete before leaving.  She made all so much harder, but… we did it.  I made her not like me because I would gently try to get her do her own work.  It didn’t help at all…

 

So, one thought led to another… into the past to when I was a little girl.  I recognized her expression when I saw her… I smiled brightly at her… I ‘played the game’… talked to her… all the time thinking …. “I don’t like you, I like you, I don’t like you… I wanted to like you so much, but… no, there’s no way!”

 

I just wanted away from her… and I got away as soon as I could.  I’m sure she didn’t want to be reminded of me… either.  No… I don’t like you, I’ll never like you… nothing ‘you’ can do will make me ever like you.  Life really is like this sometimes… sad, but… true.  I know you know what I mean… :)))

MAMA…


Mama…

 

 

My Mama, Earlene
My brother, Ricky… and Mama, Earlene

 

MAMA…

 

On the right side of the photo is my mother as a young woman… beautiful, vivacious.  She looked enough like Elizabeth Taylor… to be sisters.  My mother was as beautiful… with a fun personality.

 

 

Oh, as a little girl… I looked up to my beautiful mother.  When I first remembered her, she had long, curly hair.  She always dressed in dresses, skirts… she was the prettiest girl around.  I wanted to be like her, I wanted to grow up beautiful… like my mama.

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Mama, Earlene…and Grandma Alma…

 

Daisy Earlene… My Mama…

 

My Mama, Earlene…
My Mama, Earlene…

 

 

My Mama, Earlene… on left

 

My Mama, Earlene on left… Me, Gloria… on right

 

 

 

My Mama… on left
Mama… Earlene

 

 

Mama… Earlene, in front…

 

My Mama, Earlene… Camp Lejune, NC

 

Mama on right…

 

Mama… Earlene

 

My beautiful, vivacious mother, Earlene…

Tonight, I had my mother on my mind.  Can you see here, that there was once a young woman who had dreams, hopes for a good life?  She was real, had real feelings.  I knew her as ‘Mama’.

 

Can you understand when looking at these photos of the past… what I mean… when I say ‘everyone should have a book’… your mother, my mother … anyone who has been on this earth… who was so real… so… ‘the people we knew, loved’?

 

Don’t you think it sad… they aren’t remembered?  ‘They are gone, ashes to ashes… dust to dust.’  Of course, my Mama was cremated… her ashes haven’t been scattered.  They are in a beautiful chest… with painted roses on it.  The chest is in my happy … art room.  My little brother, Rick-Rick’s (Ricky) ashes are in a white chest, sitting side by side… by Mama.

 

I’m so fortunate to have any photos left of my mama… so many were burned, damaged in the house fire that destroyed all our belongings.  A lot of these photos have been trimmed, cut … because of water stains, etc.

 

That’s okay, I’m most thankful for them.  You know, when I look at these photos… some of them are like ‘yesterday.’  Isn’t it strange, because in a sense… they are ‘old photos’, literally.

 

There is a lot of pain in my heart when I look at my mother… I know, remember so much about her.  Her dreams didn’t come true, her life had a lot of unhappiness in it.  The end of her life wasn’t good… the end of her life … her last sounds…is recorded on a tiny cassette tape that I have put up… have ‘lost from myself’… as I can’t bear to listen to it.  I would get physically sick now… if I were to listen to it.  I feel a tightness in my chest… just thinking about it.

 

I can remember how always when I was a little girl, everyone constantly remarking on what a beautiful mother I had.  I knew that, as a little girl… why, I wanted to grow up to look like her.  They said she was the prettiest girl around…

 

My mother was one of the few women I ever saw… wear red lipstick, and was beautiful wearing it.  The red lipstick complimented her dark hair, skin.  I remember she loved to wear ‘black and white’ together in her skirts, blouses, dresses.  The colors became her… though, she could wear anything, look nice.  I never saw her wear anything that wasn’t pretty on her.

 

No one knew my mother had a little girl… I was sent to live with a father who didn’t want me… he had his second wife who had a little girl; then… they had a little girl.  There wasn’t room for a daughter who was from his prior marriage… I can understand now, being older.

 

Later… in time, I came to live with my mother… people found out my mama had a daughter… they would always say to her, ‘Ms Brown, you have a lovely daughter.’  We’d look at each other, and laugh.  There was a song out by that name.  I did become as pretty as my mother… we loved it.  We had fun… being pretty together… wearing the same clothes, she taught me about make-up, we laughed together.

 

I sit here looking at these photos closely… isn’t it sad to see such ‘life reflecting out from each photo’… and now… it’s gone?  Isn’t that very sad?  For instance, I look at the photo below… look at my mother’s smile, the smile of her cousin, Carol.

 

Look at how pretty they both were in their crisp, white blouses… black skirts…  look at how white, pretty their teeth are…. their dark hair.  See, how they smile for the camera?  So ‘alive’… so … ‘gone now’… but, so… alive in the photo.  They even look like… sisters.

 

Tonight, I share my thoughts with you… I’m thinking about my…. mama.  I’m thinking about how… I miss my… mama.

 

 

On Right… my Mother, Earlene
  • O Mama! (theauthorsblogg.wordpress.com)

The Games People Play… I Have Kicked The Habit! Pass The Garlic Salt, Please!


Garlic Cloves I Purchased For… My New Habit!

 

The Games People Play… I Have Kicked The Habit!  Pass The Garlic Salt, Please!

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

 

Yesterday, I wrote about being ‘tricked’ at McDonald’s here in our town.  It’s no big deal… but, you know how it is when you keep seeing someone’s face in your mind… thinking they’ve ‘fooled you’.

 

I keep seeing the little, short Spanish lady‘s face in my mind… her expression of ‘waiting, to see if I believed her’.  :)))  I, also, keep seeing her irritated expression… when I told her that I’d requested the fish sandwich to be prepared ‘fresh, hot’.

 

Some people eat once a day… when they go out to order their meal cooked… they have the right to expect it to be hot.  I wanted it to be ‘just right’… I was thinking about Tommy.

 

Sometimes, we have to ‘do things the way someone else ‘finds it convenient for them’… not… what we want’.

 

She didn’t like that at all.  So… she ‘played a game’… she thought I wouldn’t know… she walked ‘back there’… waited a couple of minutes… brought that same sandwich back to me.  I’m glad I wasn’t in a ‘Gloria Mood’… because no matter how nice I always try to be… I’m not perfect at all.  She was ‘spared’… because sometimes….

 

I stood there a moment looking at the sandwich, debating on saying something… or ‘letting it go’.  I decided ‘to play the game’… after all, I am a person… so, I ‘played the game’, too.  I thanked her with a sweet, little smile… she looked at me…. ‘wondering if I knew’.

 

I smiled bigger, took my tray and… walked off.  I almost turned around, to take it back… but, I’m proud that I didn’t.  I was feeling ‘white, hot anger’.

 

I made myself keep smiling as I sat down in view of the lady, and the cashier who’d just served me.  I would look up, they would be looking.  :)))  All they saw from me was my ‘sweet Gloria Smile’… it wasn’t worth hurting anyone’s feelings… at least ‘not today’….. :)))

 

They probably thought I was some dumb woman who was fooled easily… it’s okay.  I remember them… and ‘next time’… will be ‘fun’!  I won’t allow it to happen ‘next time’… I went to McDonald’s to order a ‘double-fish sandwich with cheese’… out of memory for Tommy.  Skip and I do that at times… Tommy loved them.

 

*********

 

I wanted to let everyone know that as soon as I developed an addiction to something at this ‘late day, and time’… I have kicked the habit!

 

You know how ‘the number 3’… is always significant in my life?  The 3rd time’s out… three is ‘the’ number with me.  Well….

 

I wrote about developing an addiction to something not long ago.  I wanted more, and more……… and more of it.  I was truly hooked on it.  I couldn’t believe that ‘here I am at this age and time’… getting addicted to something!

 

It was roasted garlic cloves!  Oh my, the first time I tasted such a thing… I wanted more.  I began to think about the delicate, nutty, creamy flavor of roasted garlic cloves… how it felt to squeeze the wonderful creaminess out of the ‘paper shell’….. into my mouth!  So wonderfully… good!

 

You know how it is… when you’ve been ‘hooked by something’… you’ve got to have it… want some more of it… it stays on your mind. I was addicted…. to that beautiful flavor.  Who would have knew?  I’d been reading recipes… all of a sudden for the first time in my life… reading about ‘roasted garlic cloves’… appealed to me!  I began to …imagine, dream!

 

The first time I ate them was… pure ecstasy.  Oh my goodness.. the delicate flavor hooked me the very first time.

 

The second time… wasn’t like the first time.  I ‘must have done something differently’… ‘but, what?’

 

The third time… ‘was it!’  I wasn’t addicted, I wasn’t hooked any longer to…. roasted garlic cloves!   Nope, no more can do!  No longer does… roasted garlic cloves… appeal to me!

 

I have kicked my new habit… to the curb.  If I want garlic flavor, I will simply sprinkle a few grains of …garlic salt.  So, much easier!  Do you know how much trouble it was to constantly ‘peel off a paper shell’ that protects the garlic clove inside?  Pass the garlic salt, please!

 

 

A Straw Bale Garden Was Born Today…


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Straw Bale Garden Was Born Today…

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

 

 

 

This evening I began putting plants in my straw bales.  This is ‘the’ garden to have if you aren’t into working with a shovel, rake, hoe… or you can’t do heavy work.  All you do is open the straw up, put some potting soil in the hole…. or place the biodegradable cup of soil with the plant… into the hole.

 

It’s a ‘pretty way’ to garden… it looks so ‘something special’.  I am hoping it rains tonight to ‘make my garden grow’.  :)))  I watered my plants, and the straw bales with Miracle Gro

 

I bought a colorful pair of gardening gloves to wear while placing plants into the straw… I began ‘planting‘ without them… my fingernails had dirt under them!  It’s been since ‘before’ Tommy died, that I planted flowers.  I couldn’t until… today.

 

Today, I went to Walmart to purchase plants, both vegetable and flowers.  On the way there, I was in an area of Wake Forest where for a short time one could pretend they are in the mountains… up on a big hill sitting at the stoplight.  I was feeling excited, happy that I was going to actually begin a ‘garden’.

 

Out of the blue… my happiness was crushed by a heavy weight.  It felt like someone threw an invisible thick blanket over me, separating me from … happiness.  Happiness, looking forward to planting flowers.

 

I felt the terrible grief of Tommy being gone… never going to come back.  I began crying inside, trying to hold the tears back… so, when I went into Walmart… I wouldn’t look like I’d been crying.  I began making crying sounds, I couldn’t breathe… all the while trying to hold the tears back.

 

Tommy’s gone… Tommy’s gone… went through my mind.   While I sat at that stoplight ‘looking out from the mountain’ I was on… I saw beautiful trees, buildings, and bright sunshine all around me.  I was seeing such beauty as… I was experiencing something so… awful.

 

All I wanted to do was to lay down, rub my forehead with my hands.  Close my eyes, go to sleep … not feel anything.  Will the grief stay, will it leave me in a little while?  I wondered, because ‘before’ I had felt such happiness.

 

I made it to Walmart, parked near the stacks of potting soil.  I got out of the pickup, began walking through all the gardening supplies.

 

I looked at stacks of bags full of sand… some was pink, some was green.  Amazing, I’d never seen bags so big… full of colored sands for children to play in… in their sandpiles.  Wouldn’t I had been the happiest little girl to play in … colored sand!

 

I walked by stepping stones, border stones, all kinds of stone … then, I began getting to the plants.

 

I chose Sweet Mint (I love mint plants… I used to have so much of it growing when I used to live in the mountains).  I chose several varieties of tomatoes, French Marigolds, Orange Bell Pepper, Cucumber plants.  I can’t remember all I chose…

 

I looked at the packages of seeds, bought vegetable and flower seeds.  I found Cosmos… one of my favorite flowers.  I got Sunflowers, and more Marigolds in seed form.  These are happy flowers.  I found a pack of Daisy seeds… they reminded me of my mother… her first name was ‘Daisy’.

 

I went to the Miracle Gro section, chose a Miracle Gro Liquidfeed system to go on the end of the pretty orange garden hose that I picked.  It’s a happy-shiny soft orange!  :)))

 

On the way home, I stopped at Arby’s to order a roast beef sandwich… I sat there with grief in my heart.  I ate that sandwich, never tasting the flavor… grief affected me so deeply.  I didn’t feel good, all I wanted to do was to get home.  Just please be at home…

 

Finally… I was home.  I came inside after placing the plants beside the straw.  I debated on laying down with my grief… or to go outside to… garden.  Skip called me, and I told him what had happened to me.  He wondered what triggered it…. I didn’t know.

 

I told him I was fine now, and when I turned my cellphone off, I headed outside.  I began playing with the plants, and before I knew it… my straw bale garden became ‘real’… it’s officially a ‘Straw Bale Garden’… now.  :)))

 

Not only that… I got past the ‘grieving spell’ this time.  I’m so thankful… I didn’t know how long it would take.  I’m afraid, dread being overwhelmed with grief like that…. so much time can go by before I’m alright again.  Thankfully… I was smiling again when I stood back to admire my … Straw Bale Garden!   Everything is… alright!  :)))

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Felt Like Someone Hit Me In The Stomach…


Our ‘Perfect Mixture’ Pup… Sweet Chadwick/aka Kangaroo Jack

  Felt Like Someone Hit Me In The Stomach…

  By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

Today we went to BoJangle’s to eat lunch.  We went out in the wind, cold rain… drove to BoJangle’s.  We were looking forward to sitting by the window to watch the rain… to feel cozy.

We went inside the restaurant, the aroma of fried chicken, biscuits smelled so good.  It was cozy inside, the atmosphere just right to have a nice lunch.

We ordered our chicken dinners, and BoJangle’s famous ice tea.  Skip ordered mashed potatoes, gravy with his chicken.  I ordered fries with my chicken… I love the seasoning that is on the fries.

We sat down at a booth, began eating when… my desire for fried chicken went completely away.  My stomach tightened up… I couldn’t eat anymore.

Skip asked me what was wrong.  I told him that just like yesterday when we went to a nice restaurant to eat… something else has just happened to make me feel I can’t eat.

At the restaurant yesterday, a woman had gotten sick in front of the salad bar… it felt like something hit me in the stomach… I felt sick.  The woman vomited over a large area.

I could go on a real diet if such things happened regularly…. then, I thought about someone was really sick to have done that, was probably so embarrassed.  I thought then, that ‘if it were me’… it would have been so awful to be so sick.

At this same restaurant, I went to the bathroom to wash my hands, and the sight that greeted me… was awful.  There was feces on the commode, on the floor all the way out the door that was opened to the stall.

Today, here at BoJangle’s, I told Skip to turn around, look outside.  There was a beautiful … ‘real’ chicken running around outside.  I couldn’t believe it.   Skip said he didn’t like to see the chicken running around… because we were sitting in there, ‘eating its friend’!

That was it, no more chicken for me.  A little girl close to where we sat, spotted the chicken.  She began yelling about the chicken being outside.

I never did see where that chicken went to.  While I sat there looking at it, I imagined a golden circle of protection around it, and said a prayer that it would be safe.

We couldn’t imagine where a chicken would come from.  I worried for its safety.  I wanted to catch it, protect it.  I didn’t because I couldn’t protect it.

When we left there, just a short ways down the street, we saw a lone dog standing in a tire shop parking lot.  Standing in the rain.  My heart went out to it… it looked well-fed, cared for… but, ‘why’ would someone let their dog run free where heavy traffic is?  We couldn’t bear for our Pups to run free, not be protected by their fenced-in yard.

I imagined a golden circle of protection around it, and like I always do… I said a little prayer for it to be safe.

When I see animals in dangerous situations such as the chicken at BoJangle’s parking lot… and the dog… I feel such pain inside.  Both were walking where cars were too close to them.  Both were as innocent as children, not knowing the dangers around them.

This is an example of how things around me… affect me.  I hurt inside because of things I see… I can’t do anything about.  It’s sad because I find in life, there are times I have to turn my head… bear my pain at things I can’t change.

I used to think I really could ‘save the whole world’… remember thinking that way when we were young, strong… there wasn’t anything we couldn’t do!  As time went by… life happened… I realized ‘the world is bigger than I am’.

In one way it was fun to see that beautiful chicken at BoJangle’s walking around… down deep inside… I was afraid for what would happen to it… the same with the precious dog.

In my mind, I imagined the golden circles around them, protecting them everywhere they went until they got to safety… until they got home where they belonged.

Silly?  That’s okay… I can be.  :)))  My heart hurts easily for innocent, helpless beings that I can’t protect.  These are my thoughts tonight…

I also, still feel that sensation like someone hit me in the stomach ….