May Merriment

May is finally here. I’m ready for the rest and relaxation that comes with this month.

The community clean up was a rousing success, and seeing the 25 or so kids and adults from our church working their way down Ruddle Road inspired me to de-clutter around our house.
We pulled some weeds and some dead plants from Gary’s over active attempt to kill said weeds.

He also managed to kill a few azalea bushes, some tiger lilies and almost all of my hostas. We planted a few rose bushes and a couple of other flowers in their place. They are probably doomed to death, but we planted them anyway.

Although our grandmothers had green thumbs and could grow practically anything, both of our thumbs are decidedly brown, apparently. The joke in my family is that I can kill fake plants. We try, we really do. We just don’t succeed.

Gary finally got his shop built out in the back yard, so all of his stuff that belongs out there and not in and around the house has finally found it’s way to where it goes and not tucked in, around, over and under places it doesn’t particularly go.

I did an extreme make over on Logan’s room; his closet in particular. He was at school during this event. He thinks I simply re-organized, and was amazed at all the room in his closet that I found by moving things around. His dad and I were wise enough to dispose of bags of junk, old clothes, toys and other things he didn’t know he could live without before he got home from school. I won’t tell him if you won’t.

It’s amazing how many treasures a 12 year old kid can accumulate since the last de-cluttering occurred. We have fairly simple rules when it comes to keeping his room picked up. His bed has to be made, and nothing can be on the floor. Clutter really bothers me, but I want to make it easy for him to follow the rules. He has hooks and shelves and drawers and baskets to help him keep things in their place, and mostly does a pretty good job, considering the fact that he is a 12 year old boy.

Still, things do multiply, and it seems that everything he gets comes with multiple pieces and parts. Going in and mucking things out every once in a while makes it easier for him to follow the rules, and keeps both of us happy.

May is a good month for me for other reasons, too. I will celebrate my 15th anniversary this month. My publisher, David, often refers to his "Dear Sweet Sainted Wife." I’m not sure what kind of title would suit Gary, but I do know the man deserves some type of medal for bravery, courage, valor and honor.

Fifteen years of living with me should merit some reward other than a near constant state of confusion that comes from living with me. My family refers to it as "only in Mom’s world."
I prefer my world to be sparkly, have rainbows, hearts, butterflies, furry critters, hugs, and lots of caffeine. It doesn’t necessarily have to have much to do with reality, as it’s a happy place filled with sunshine and light. Someone bought me a coffee mug last year that says "Welcome to my world. It’s okay. They know me here." Sums it up nicely.

It’s a trick living in my world with my husband, whose world in mainly dark and gray and cloudy. It’s a not very happy place because its filled with reality and just the facts. That’s the way it is, and things are probably getting worse. He can’t really help it; his family tree was rooted that way.

My family are optimists with a "the glass is half full and the waiter is coming around to fill it back up right away" mentality. Gary’s family are pessimists with a "the glass is almost empty, there’s a leak in the glass, and all the waiters have left so no one is coming to fill it back up" mentality.
It is truly amazing that we get along, much less that we love each other and that our relationship thrives. Miracles do still happen. The fact that my sparkly world and his gray world can co-exist is proof of that.

May also means the end of school, much to my son’s joy. The true beginning of summer, and the promise of all that can bring. May is here, bringing with it renewed hope and for us, ongoing happiness. It’s going to be a great month.

DIRECT HIT

It was our turn, I guess. After all the talking I've done about Mother Nature, I guess she decided to get back at me. This time, my family was in her Bulls-Eye. The tornadoes that roared through the state today made its way through the tiny community of Heafer, Arkansas.

It destroyed the home of a good friend of my family. It also destroyed my dad's shop, the one he had lovingly built over the last few years at the house they will retire to someday.

When the weatherman said there was a tornado on the ground at the intersection of Highway 42 and Highway 181; my mother started crying. She has friends and relatives in that community. The only home she has ever owned is also in that community, and the tornado was less than a mile away from it.

We waited anxiously for news after the storm passed, but all the circuits were busy. Finally, a call from aunt came. She was crying, as she told my parents that Dad's shop was destroyed.

Yes, it's only a building, and a small one at that. Yes, it can be replaced. Yes, we are thankful no lives were lost, and yes, we realize how very lucky we were that their home wasn't taken in the storm.

Yet, still, there is pain. My Dad loved that shop. He loved tinkering and puttering and creating. He had it organized just so, with everything where he wanted it and how he wanted it. It was exactly what he wanted it to be, and he took a great deal of pleasure in it. Now it is gone, and with that comes a heavy heart.

Once again, Mother Nature has unleashed her fury, but once again, we will prevail. We spent hours picking through rubble and debris Friday afternoon, trying to save what we could. We will rebuild Dad's shop, and it will be done exactly the way he wants it. It will be organized just so, and it will be as good if not better.

Mother Nature is tough. But nobody hurts my Daddy and gets away with it; so we will rebuild...bigger, better, more, longer, taller; whatever it is he wants that will make him smile again.

We will survive, and we will get through just another one of those things that living life throws at you.

Promises At The Park

It’s getting closer. Are you ready to do your part? The Great River Promise Block Party is May 17 at Walker Park. It’s going to be a day of fun and a day of purpose.

We are getting a lot of support, but we need more. We have 17 churches and 12 businesses signed up to sponsor a booth at the park. We need 20 of each; so we need three more churches and eight more businesses.

There will be all kinds of activities that day, including the Kiwanis Fishing Rodeo, Harry Myers’ incomparable Barbeque, antique cars, motorcycles, food, rummage sales, auctions, music, games, and a few other surprises we aren’t ready to mention just yet.

If you want to be a part of this, we need to hear from you. Contact Ignite chairman James Decanter at (870) 762-5510 or (870) 740-8156 or Ignite member Doug Echols at (870) 740-1094.

Why should you care? Because it’s our community, and it’s our kids. The Great River Promise is a program that guarantees our kids will have a chance for a college education, regardless of their ability to pay. There are rules, of course. They have to take some responsibility for their actions. They can’t be convicted for drug or alcohol charges. They have to stay in school and out of trouble.

If they do their part to live up to their potential, we will help them by promising them a two year college education at Arkansas Northeastern College. As the executives like to say, it’s a "win-win" situation for all. The kids have motivation to stay in school and out of trouble, and the knowledge that they can go to college, even if they don’t have the financial ability to pay for it.

The community has the benefit of knowing our kids are striving for a goal, and we can pull together to help them attain that goal. It’s what a community does. We bind individually, and each do a little so together we can accomplish a lot.

Why should you come to Walker Park? Why should you donate some of your hard earned money? Because we can’t do it alone, but we can do it together. Our churches and our businesses and our people are all coming together this one day in something the town has never seen before. We are having the biggest block party ever, coming together in a united effort for one project, for one cause, for our most important resource.

Nucor has pledged funding, giving this project a major boost. We appreciate their generosity. But, it’s not enough. Other people have to get on board in order to ensure that every child in this area can have the education that will be vital in the future.

Not everyone can do what a corporation can do. But everyone can do something. It’s what being a community is. Some can do more, some can do less. But we all can do something, to keep a promise of a better future for the next generation of our community.

In Memory of Max

We lost Max today. He was my sister's beloved shih-tzu. She rescued him from a shelter eight years ago, wondering if perhaps he had wandered away from his home. Teresa couldn't imagine anyone willingly not wanting that adorable face, those big brown eyes, that loyal heart.

Max was the family's first dog. My parents, my sister's family, my family; none of us had pets. Max showed us the error of our ways. Max showed us what we were missing. I would have never taken a "Chance" on my much loved doggie had Max not paved the way.

He loved my sister fiercely. He wanted to be next to her, wherever that might be. If she moved, he moved. He would sit next to you, as long as Teresa was there too. But if Teresa left the room, Max would dessert you for where ever his Mommy was going. He followed her from room to room like a shadow. We laughed at his antics and marveled at his doggie devotion.

I called him "Mop Face" because he always had so much hair, even after a trip to the groomers. I teased my sister that she could dip him in water and clean her floors with him.

Max was an old man, and had been deaf for a few years. His eyes were blurry, and he could no longer get up the stairs to my sister's bedroom. She carried him up and down. He couldn't jump up on the couch any more, so his family would gently lift him.

We knew his time was near, but you are never prepared for the grim news of "it's time."

So today, as our hearts are breaking because Max will no longer be here with us, there is also a smile through our tears. He brought so much joy and happiness and laughter and comfort.

Here's to you, Mopface....you changed our lives, made it better just by what you were; Max, the dog we loved and were so glad to have in our family.

More Weather Woes

I’m not sure what we in Arkansas have done to make Mother Nature angry. Whatever it is, I wish we could send up some sort of apology. Tornadoes, flooding, more tornadoes, more flooding. Sigh. Ten days ago, I listened to a Little Rock station as tornadoes pounded central Arkansas. My sister and her family were literally in the bullseye of the storm. So were other good friends, from Benton to Little Rock to Sherwood.

The next day, my family was in Little Rock, and I spent time with my sister. I wondered if they took cover during the storm. Or, if the males in the family heeded the universal homing signal. You know the one. When the weather siren goes off, every male must go outside and look up. I’m not sure why, I just know they do.

They live in a split-level house, three stories. Her bedroom is on the top level. Did she go to the lowest level and take cover? No, she went to the top story and went to bed. She knew there was bad weather in the area, but apparently with the peace that comes from clean living, she wasn’t particularly concerned.

That is, until I got there. Our old high school suffered major damage. The auditorium was lifted off its foundation, then set back down about a foot away. The roof on several buildings were torn off. More than a dozen trees were down, as well as utility poles.

The baseball complex next to the school was completely destroyed. Light poles down or leaning at an angle. The fence twisted like some oddly shaped free form art. The concession stand demolished. Bleachers that had been set in concrete were standing upright, smashed into a fence.

The airport, also home to the local weather service for that area, took a direct hit. Airplanes tossed around like toys, hangers crumpled like so much aluminum foil.
My sister, who weathered the storm without fear, saw the damage with me and realized the impact. She lives two miles from the school, less than three from the airport. Those were the winds that passed over her home, thankfully without harm.

I am amazed, each and every time, at the fickleness of nature. Steel and concrete bleachers were moved, yet nearby a plastic trash can remained upright, it’s plastic liner still in place. One tree down, yet another one stood. One house destroyed, yet another unharmed. On the school campus of Sylvan Hills where the high school, the junior high, and even the elementary school all had damage, a single wide trailer remained unscathed.

The senior class of Sylvan Hills High School will spend at least part of the rest of their school year at my sister’s church, First Assembly of God in North Little Rock. It’s a large church, and when the call came for help, the pastor immediately offered the church’s 25 classrooms.

I find it comforting that in a real crisis, those so called barriers between church and state break down. It’s not the first time First Assembly has stepped in. A fire at an elementary school several years ago moved students off campus, and into the church.

I am more than ready for Mother Nature to take a nap, a pill, a potion, or whatever else and get over herself and her bad mood. I’m ready for calm winds and sunshine, for the ease of one day being pretty much like the next day weather wise.

Until that happens, I guess we will all have to watch, and wait, and wonder. And the next time my sister is in the eye of the storm, perhaps she will heed the warning, and head downstairs instead of up. Or, perhaps not. Clean living has to count for something.