Happy Birthday
Celebrating Another Year
My
most recent birthday passed without a lot of fanfare but did not
go unnoticed. My birthday was on Monday, but my family celebrated the event
the prior Saturday. My daughter is the driving force behind a lot of my weekends
in that Barbara and I find ourselves adjusting our plans to accommodate those
of our daughter.
On Friday evening Barbara had informed me, "Your daughter is coming over
for your birthday tomorrow night."
I spent most of Saturday working outside, concentrating on the elaeagnus
shrubs in my backyard and cutting Sarah’s lawn. While "weed eating"
at Sarah’s, I decided to tackle the flowerbed in front of the brick
wall that marks the end of Highland Street and the beginning of Ridgewood
Drive. It’s a task normally handled by Mr. Raymond Montgomery and Mr.
John Schubert, but I didn’t think they’d mind if I trimmed back
the grass for them.
After finishing the flowerbed and mowing of my sister’s lawn, I returned
to a task I had left unfinished at home. The temperature was mild for mid-August,
but I don’t recall ever having finished trimming the row of elaeagnus
shrubs in a single effort. I always have to rest my upper body muscles that
tire rather quickly of my lifting a gasoline powered hedge trimmer head-high
for extended periods of time. I seem to do better trimming until I give out,
then work on less strenuous tasks for a few hours, and later return to the
shrub trimming.
Rayanne and her two youngest girls arrived around mid-morning, because Rayanne
had an appointment in Pontotoc to get a haircut. It’s a little strange
how so few members of my family get their hair cut in the community in which
we live. Jason goes to Ecru or Ripley – Rayanne lives in Belmont, but
drives to Pontotoc for a haircut – I drive to Memphis, and Barbara uses
a different salon in Pontotoc than Rayanne.
"What do you want for your supper?" Rayanne asked, as she stopped her van
in front of Sarah’s house where I was mowing at the time.
"Steak!" I responded.
Rayanne frowned then rubbed her thumb across the two fingers closest to her
thumb to indicate there was a cost associated with my choice.
"Hey, you asked," I shrugged, as she, the girls, and Barbara drove away toward
Tupelo, where they would spend the afternoon shopping for everything except
food.
I don’t share the same joy in shopping as that found among the women
in my family. They can shop all-day and return in good spirits but exhausted.
I go out of my way to invent reasons not to shop all-day, and whenever I
have to shop, I rarely return in a good spirit.
By the time, Rayanne and the others returned from Tupelo, I had finished
my yard work and cleaned up myself.
"We’ve got to go to the grocery store," Barbara urged, as I lit the
newspaper under the charcoal chimney, hoping to have plenty of hot charcoal
for the grill upon my return.
There’s something about shopping in a small town that makes shopping
in a hurry impossible. If one plans a dash to the grocery store for a few
items, one will invariably encounter one or more friends who are interested
in "visiting." After forty-five minutes of shopping and visiting, I told
Barbara if we didn’t get home soon all the charcoal would be burned
to ashes. Fortunately, we arrived home before that happened.
Rayanne didn’t want to use the baking potatoes, I had purchased at the
store. Instead, she had a pot of chunked red potatoes waiting to boil on
a front burner.
"Let’s don’t do baked potatoes. I want to fix ‘smashed
potatoes.’ I had some this week, and they were good." Rayanne stated.
"Whatever."
Rayanne’s potatoes weren’t tender enough for smashing when the
steaks came off the grill, but I exercised patience while sautéing
the chipped bacon and chopped onions on an adjacent burner. Once the potatoes
were tender and the bacon crisp, Rayanne dumped bacon, onions, and the bacon
grease into the drained potatoes and smashed them with a potato masher. True
to Rayanne’s claim they were good, and everyone enjoyed them.
The extremely mild weather was once again an enticement for our family to
dine on the deck. A few folks even commented they were cold. That’s
something you don’t hear much around here in August. There were eight
of us on the deck, Barbara, Rayanne, Merilese, Katherine, Jason, Sarah, Felicia,
and me.
Earlier, Rayanne and Sarah picked up a birthday cake and some ice cream at
the local Winn Dixie. Immediately after cleaning off the tables, Sarah brought
out the cake with two candles burning, one on the numeral six and one on
the numeral two. The "Happy Birthday" song was sung, photographs were taken,
cake and ice cream were served, and then presents were opened. There were
no cards indicating who gave which gifts, but the gifts were, a pack of Nautica
brand T-shirts, a salad spinner, and an electric deep fat fryer.
"You had better like the T-shirts," Rayanne commented.
Gathering she meant they were expensive, I responded, "If you paid more than
twenty-dollars for them (3-pack), you paid too much."
"Well, we did."
"Where’d you find them?"
"J. C. Penny."
The salad spinner is something I had hinted for in recent weeks. Ever since
seeing one on the Food Network, I’d wanted a spinner to help dry lettuce
after rinsing it. The deep fat fryer, while nicely featured, didn’t
have the frying capacity I really needed, so it was marked for return. The
birthday presents were appreciated, but it was the presence of family members
that was appreciated most.
Birthday Part
II Making It Official
Monday, August 16 was officially my birthday, but I received two birthday
cards on Saturday and one on Tuesday after my birthday. Both my boss and
an associate in Atlanta phoned me early Monday morning to wish me a happy
birthday. I could have taken off for my birthday, using a vacation day, had
I wanted to, but I chose to work. It turned out to be a busy day, with me
receiving numerous calls at the office, and since I normally have my office
calls transferred to my cell phone, the calls continued as I made my way
home.
Around two o’clock on Monday afternoon, Barbara phoned to say she had
talked to Rayanne, who wanted us to meet her family in Tupelo to exchange
the electric fryer and have another birthday dinner at Peppers.
I remember telling Barbara that I could leave the office at three o’clock
and be in Pontotoc by five-thirty, after stopping for gasoline along the
way. I was unable to get away at three o’clock sharp, so I elected to
take the quickest of the several routes I travel from Indianola to Pontotoc.
I chose the Greenwood-Grenada-Oxford route, but shortly after leaving Greenwood,
I was slowed by a detour that took me several miles over dusty graveled roads
to a point about a half-mile from where the detour began. I lost about ten
minutes of drive time, in the process. By the time I arrived in Grenada to
gas-up, it was after four-thirty, so I phoned Barbara to let her know, I
was running late.
At approximately five o’clock I pulled off the road near Water Valley
to take a call on my cell phone.
"Hi, Wayne," a familiar voice spoke, though I didn’t immediately recognize
the voice, "This is Faye."
Stalling for time, I responded, "I know a hundred, Faye’s."
"You don’t know who this is?"
I thought I knew, but I held out for additional clues.
"Think back a few years," the caller urged.
"Well, of course, I know who you are. You’re Faye Hanner," I stated
confidently.
In the next twenty-five minutes, Faye managed to compress all the life-changing
events that had taken place within her family over the past two years, including
the decision to adopt the thirteen-month old daughter of Faye’s niece,
Chasity, whom Faye raised from age three, following the death of Faye’s
sister, Jennifer.
"Mike and I will adopt her in September. Mike is so excited." Faye shared.
Both Mike and Faye are in their upper forties, and I don’t envy their
decision to begin a family at this point in their lives.
"I suppose you’re wondering why I called you," Faye revealed. "I can’t
remember how to do a screen capture. I remember you told me the last time
to write it down, but I didn’t. I know you remember everything, and
that’s why I called you."
"I wish that were true, but I don’t remember everything. However, I
remember how to do a screen capture."
I explained, "There are two methods, one using [CTRL] [PRINT SCREEN], and
one using [ALT] [PRINT SCREEN]. One captures the whole screen, and one captures
only the last pop-up window. You can figure out which is which. Just paste
the capture into a Word document."
"We’re coming to your fish fry, one of these days," Faye cheerfully
pledged.
"Yeah, every year, I stand in my driveway greeting arriving guests and expect
to see you, but it never happens," I responded, hoping to heap a little guilt
on a subscriber with whom I’ve had no contact in more than two years.
"Maybe, next year!"
"I’ll look for you."
Before hanging up, Faye promised to send her new address after an upcoming
move. I told her the Post Office wouldn’t forward her mail forever.
It was almost five-thirty, when I pulled back onto the highway, so I phoned
Barbara once more to explain it would be after six before I got to Pontotoc.
An hour later, Barbara and I met Rayanne and the girls at Peppers.
The "wee ones" met us out front and ushered us to the patio. On our way,
we found Laura and David Prevost and visited briefly with the couple who
were once members of our church when David was Minister of Music for FBC,
Pontotoc. David asked about our children, and when he found out Rayanne was
on the patio, he wanted to speak to her. The two of them talked hand bells
for a few minutes, and I shared that Rayanne had recently accepted a position
as organist for FBC, Belmont. Knowing Rayanne’s musical abilities, David
was pleased to learn those abilities were being used.
Following dinner, we attempted to exchange the electric fryer, but failing
to find one that suited my needs, Barbara and Rayanne opted for a return
issued on their credit card.
My birthday was a full day, and though I had worked hard most of the day,
I felt energized by both my work and the love of family and friends. Now,
I am looking forward to my next birthday.
Dream Sequel
Cheryl's Suggestion
In a recent issue of Ridge Rider News, I shared a dream and asked readers
to suggest an ending other than the one in which I was "left hanging." Cheryl
Radford, Barbara’s niece, who lives in Southaven, MS, sent the following
note:
"Your dream sounds more like a nightmare – It also sounds like you were
on a roller coaster track. So, my suggestion would be to insert into your
psyche that instead of driving a car, you will be driving a roller coaster
cart – then you can just hop in and roll down to safety. This solution
may sound crazy, but then most dreams are crazy too!"
"Shortly after I learned to drive and Mother had allowed me to drive the
car, I dreamed that Caryl [my sister] and I were on our way home from my
friend Ann’s house. Ann and her family lived about 2 miles down the
road from us and located in between our homes was a really deep curve . The
road had been cut through a hill, so the sides of the embankment rose above
the road several feet. I already had a fear of driving through this area.
To set the scene further, there was a natural spring that flowed from one
side of the embankment. In my dream Caryl and I were headed home from Ann’s
and it was after dark. There was water flowing over the roadway, and the
water contained alligators. I could not get the car across this area, because
the car was afraid of the alligators. In my dream, all this was very real
and scary."
"You may have opened up a new avenue for your RRN. Let your readers tell
you their scary or weird dreams. Hope you have a good week and that you
don’t dream about being stranded in high places."
Editor: So, how about it, anyone else have a dream to share?
Bodock Beau
Having A Bad Day
These may sound a little far fetched, and I can’t vouch for them being
true. Still, if you think you’re having a bad day, consider yourself
better off than some folks.
In a hospital's Intensive Care Unit, patients always died in the same bed,
on Sunday morning, at about 11:00 a.m., regardless of their medical condition.
This puzzled the doctors and some even thought it had something to do with
the supernatural. No one could solve the mystery as to why the deaths occurred
around 11:00 a.m. on Sunday, so a worldwide team of experts was assembled
to investigate the cause of the incidents.
The next Sunday morning, a few minutes before 11:00 a.m., all of the doctors
and nurses nervously waited outside the ward to see for themselves what the
terrible phenomenon was all about. Some were holding wooden crosses, prayer
books, and other holy objects to ward off the evil spirits.
Just when the clock struck 11:00, Pookie Johnson, the part-time Sunday sweeper,
entered the ward and unplugged the life support system so he could use the
vacuum cleaner.
Having a Bad Day????
The average cost of rehabilitating a seal after the Exxon Valdez Oil spill
in Alaska was $ 80,000.00. At a special ceremony, two of the most expensively
saved animals were being released back into the wild amid cheers and applause
from onlookers.
A minute later, in full view, a killer whale ate them both.
Still think you are having a Bad Day????
A woman came home to find her husband in the kitchen shaking frantically,
almost in a dancing frenzy, with some kind of wire running from his waist
towards the electric kettle. Intending to jolt him away from the deadly current,
she whacked him with a handy plank of wood, breaking his arm in two places.
Up to that moment, he had been happily listening to his Walkman.
STILL think you're having a Bad Day????
Two animal rights defenders were protesting the cruelty of sending pigs to
a slaughterhouse in Bonn, Germany. Suddenly, all two thousand pigs broke
loose and escaped through a broken fence, stampeding madly.
The two helpless protesters were trampled to death.
What?? STILL having a Bad Day????
Iraqi terrorist Khay Rahnajet didn't pay enough postage on a letter bomb.
It came back with "Return to Sender" stamped on it. Forgetting it was the
bomb, he opened it and was blown to bits.
There now, feeling better????
Shared by Ken Gaillard
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