“You’ve already written a blog about the lettered sweat shirts your daughters give you,” said my oldest daughter. Sheryl edits and finds pictures for my weekly–dare I call the writings–essays. Yeah but this time Cynthia, daughter two, gave me a birthday tee-shirt that says, “You can’t scare me. I have three daughters .” Made me remember times daughters three did scare their mom and me. Sheryl was 13. I had driven us from San Antonio
Category: Family
Four Shetland Ponies
My Preacher Mid McKnight flew Navy airplanes in World War II. After the war, Mid farmed near Hale Center located on the Texas plains near Lubbock. He planted wheat, but a hailstorm destroyed his crop just before harvesting. That’s when he started flying old Navy planes again. And why he became my preacher. Some enterprising ‘cloud-seeding’ fellow hired Mid to fly an old Navy plane into storm clouds, baskets mounted on the wings to catch hail
Try to Remember
“Try to remember…and if you can remember, then follow, follow…” Those lyrics from Fantasticks, an off-Broadway musical, were written by a fellow West Texas college friend in Austin. Tom Jones from Coleman and I were in high school when World War II ended. Today’s pandemic restrictions remind of those WWII days. In August 1945, I was 17 years old. If the war continued, I would be required to sign for the military draft in October. But I
Naming Names
Every family, I have found, offers a story of how their child was named. Maxine and I made a deal. She would pick the name for a girl. I could name the boy. When the third girl arrived, Maxine compromised. She accepted Michaela because there was no Mike. Three years later, “If it’s a boy, let’s name him Kelson.” “Where did you get that?” From Walt Whitman “the kelson of creation is love.” I explained
London via Elham
Christmas Eve 1978, I drove from Elham in Kent north to London and saw the Queen. Elizabeth and I were teenagers during World War II. I worked part time on the local daily newspaper. The Princess assisted London nurses. My historical fiction research also tells me she collected President Truman’s autograph in 1945. Margaret and I were in England to spend the holidays with her daughter Margo and Margo’s roommate, a girl named Sue. Both
Groom for Zoom
This nonagenarian’s invitation to Zoom with the Barbee children came in a text message from my daughter Cynthia… Christmas is in the air and on line! Here is the link to the Elam-Barbee Christmas Zoom. Be festive Ho-Ho-Ho For many years, our families met for Christmas or Thanksgiving celebrations. Friendship went all the way back to when college roommates Fred and I took turns being the Best Man at our weddings. I’m the last of
Turkey–Down Under
Way back then, I sat down alone for a ‘Down Under’ Thanksgiving dinner. Thirteen hours before the family ate in Carolina. Fifteen hours before the relatives in Texas ate and then played dominoes while an uncle slipped out to his car to get a little ‘sweetning.’ An International Dateline made my early meal possible. Business partners in Sydney, Australia arranged my dining reservation. Some four decades ago, but remembering this Thanksgiving I ate turkey, dressing,
What’s Your Handle?
The Knox, Indiana Wifi lines were being repaired, so my morning email didn’t ‘send’ until 10:21 p.m. I thought about the old days and CBs. I remembered a 1976 summer drive from Texas to North Carolina. Of course, we were trailing a sailboat. This time an 18-foot Flying Scot, headed for the North-American championships. Daughter Michaela and I were along to drive the van at 3 a.m.–boat’s weigh-in deadline that day–while son Kelson and his
Nickleby
Was the best of Times Square. Charles Dicken’s Nicholas Nickleby play came from England to New York. Margaret loved Dickens. Her sister Annie lived outside the ‘City’ in New Jersey. We lived in Chapel Hill. “Let’s go!” Was the worst of times. A ticket cost $100. First time, 1981, Broadway had charged that much. You bought a theater seat to sit for eight and a half hours. Plus intermission dinner at Toots Shore for three
Tantrum Threes
We grandparents survived ‘Terrible Twos,’ those crying toddlers you can hand back to their parents . The Twos grow a year and become ‘Tantrum Threes.’ Also ‘Talking Threes’ when histrionics fail them. Diane Hughes read our previous blog about words from the mouth of babes. She’s an essayist in New Hampshire, not a blogger in Indiana, who sent this story I’m repeating. Allison was two years old and shopping with her dad at a Navy