Stick Horse Cowgirls

I am reading a fascinating book called The Old Way by Elizabeth Marshall Thomas.  Thomas recounts her teenage years in the 1950’s spent with her parents in the Kalahari desert of Africa among the “ San ,” the  Ju/Wasi bushmen people.  It apparently reprises an earlier work by her, The Harmless People , written in 1959, and which I shall surely read soon.  I have no credentials with which to critique Thomas’ observations and conclusions but I will say that I am enjoying her writing immensely and am riveted by the subject matter.  And it makes me think, which is my number one criteria for a “good read.” The premise is that these people lived as the Neolithic people did: purely as hunter/gatherers without permanent hou sing or agriculture.  Thomas and her parents spent several years among them during the 1950’s, recording their lifestyle.  Thomas has visited these people off and on since.  Her report is that they no longer live in the “Old Way,”...

I had an uplifting encounter today that made me think about episodes in our lives that prove to be formative.  I had an appointment with a man who is a witness in a case.  We were preparing him for the questions I will be asking him next month when he takes the stand. Now let me say first that outside of close relatives, most folks hate the thought of being a witness in a lawsuit.  They really don’t want to be involved in things that are “other people’s business.”  I hear this all the time, and usually make do with a telephone conversation to determine what the witness might say on the stand, often followed by a subpoena which is, in essence, enforced attendance at trial. I understand that appearing in court is nerve-wracking for all except us lawyers who do the grilling, and I suppose that is part of the reluctance.  But what concerns me many times is the apathy shown by third parties who could contribute much to the Court’s understanding and to a good...

CYNICISM DISCLOSURE:  The following post is, admittedly, tinged by my twin cynicisms of professional and personal experience.  Still, I think you’ll find some truths here—just so you know… As I enjoyed my Cheerios last Saturday morning, Son and I watched The Science Channel.  The series was “The Brain,” a topic which I find fascinating.  Is there a universal reality?  Or is your perception everything?  Inquiring Minds want to know.  The show presented some amazing stories of people who live with a reality much, much different than most of us perceive.  One man, because he went mostly blind, had to deal with the hallucinations that his brain created to replace the loss of visual stimuli.  How would it feel to actually “see” floating human heads, like this guy did.  The doctors were quick to point out that this, in no way, had anything to do with mental health.  This was strictly a neurological phenomenon. Then there was t...

The grass is high.  Tractor tire is flat.  Still.  Two out of three lawn tractors are down.  I have not been able to get the repairman out because all of them have the unmitigated gall to want to work “regular” hours—you know, the ones when I’m trying cases?  MIL has offered (repeatedly) to be the point person on this repair gig, but I hate to put that on her.  I might just yet, but am going to give the next week a chance to be reasonable with its demands on me.  We’ll see. I was so looking forward to Saturday so that I could mow myself silly.  Believe me, there is enough grass to make me silly!  Instead of a good, early start, I opened my eyes to a ringing phone at 8:04 this morning.  It was MIL wondering if I’m okay because she hadn’t heard from me.  For me to sleep this late is unheard of.  I must have been exhausted. I dragged myself to the coffeepot and just as I sat down for a cup, Son called.  He was on his w...

The main reason that I enjoy blogging is because it is about connecting with other people. You discover that your neighborhood reaches all across the world to places that you might never have the opportunity to visit in person. It interests me to "meet" other people and hear the stories they have to tell. Yes, I know I keep saying that everyone has a story! So in blogdom, it's not just about "us" and our stories, but about all our friends out there, most of whom we'll never meet in person. Our friend, Kathleen, from Four Miles North of Nowhere, and Kate, from Chronicles of a Country Girl, have posed questions as a means of sparking interesting dialogue on their blogs. Don't know if it'll work here, but I thought it would be fun to try it! I'll be first and I'll even use photographs to illustrate my answers! Feel free to answer briefly, or if you have an interesting related story, please share! So here are the 5 questions: 1. Where were ...

Let me tell you about my yesterday morning:  I was ginning around, getting ready, leisurely, for work.  I made the grave mistake of checking e  mail and found one from my soon-to-be-ex that discombobulated me.  I see some enterprising author has written a whole book on this subject; must check it out. I’m always telling my clients, “ Don’t let him get to you…just shake it off .”  Well, let me tell you: easier said than done. Anyway, the morning kept creeping by as I stewed and carefully crafted a reply, and suddenly I realized that I HAD to get out the door.  A trial awaited.  Being a Southern girl, I always put my shoes on last thing, preferring to pad around barefoot til the last moment.  I ran to the closet and, not bothering to turn on the light, grabbed a pair of shoes, shoved them on and headed out the door. Now, recall that I live about 15 miles out of town.  As I drove down the road, I made my morning wake-up call to MIL, tho...

Son is going on vacation for a week. His plane was scheduled to take off at 6:00 a.m. This meant early rising for us both, as I took him to the airport. In so doing I amazed myself (is "amazed" the right word?). I was able to step back and watch myself doing what I am about to describe. I'm not an idiot...but sometimes I cannot help myself. Here's how our ride to the airport through the early-morning darkness went: Me: " Do you have your driver's license? You know, you'll need that to get on the plane ." Son: " Yes, Mom, it's in my wallet in my back pocket--where it usually is ..." Me: " Now, when you get to the airport, you can just go to the little self-help kiosk and do your e-ticket thing, BUT, if you have trouble--any trouble at all--just ask one of the uniformed attendants to help you ." Son (patiently): " Yes, Mom--remember, I've flown before, okay ?" Me: " Sure. Now, when you go to pick ...

They were, by all accounts a successful couple—not rich success, but happy, church-going and well-employed.  They had all they needed and some to save for old age.  Except for one thing.  They had no children. BB was the leader of a home fellowship group for his church.  He and SS opened their home each week to worship, pray and counsel with fellow church members.  BB was an elder, in leadership and close communion with others in his church’s leadership.  Everyone around them was praying for a child for this wonderful couple. Then BB was hit with a revelation from God:  He had no children because there were so many of God’s children without homes!  He went to SS and told her.  Reluctantly she agreed to take the several-month program of instruction and counseling in order to become eligible to adopt from child protective services.   As they went through the program, SS still had her doubts, but she wanted a child and BB said “ T...

I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead, but some things just are what they are. Truth is truth, and if it’s part of the story, then so be it. My people are country folk.  My grandmother, Gertrude, (I’ve written about her before here ) had two sisters, Anis (yes, that’s right, “Anis,” and she’s another story…) and Dona (pronounced with a long “o,”) but always called “Donnie.”  Gertie was the eldest girl; Donnie was the youngest.  And you could tell. Gertie was a “take charge” type of girl, being big sister and without a mother by age 12.  Donnie, on the other hand was, as we used to say, “nervous” and “high-strung.” Gertie was upright and moral—to a “t.”  Donnie, on the other hand, took up with Fred, a previously-married man with children—remember, we’re talking the early 1920-s, here.  Donnie and Fred eloped, eschewing the traditional church wedding, probably because they knew that folks were looking askance at them.  Not the least of all, Gertie....

You know, I’ve traveled a good bet.  I’ve been to all “corners” of our great country and a whole lot in between.  (and, yes, overseas, too, but I’m talkin’ America here)  I have loved every blessed minute of my American travels.  I revel in our country.  I think there is just something “American” about Americans, whatever section of the country you look at.  There is a spirit that defines us and even  transcends national origin.  And “spirit’ is just the only word I can think of.  It embodies pioneering and innovation and, yes, brashness that others may find off-putting, but which we know that it is just that old American Spirit.  It is necessary for our accomplishments and endearing to those of us who live here. I hope all people feel the same way about their nations, and I assume this feeling of loyalty and exuberant love of home are natural. Sorry, I’m spinning out of control. I tend toward old-fashioned  patriotism. ...