Author: Dot

For Mother’s Day

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Many people say theirs was the best mother ever, but mine really was. Or at least the best mother I could have had to enable me to be who I am. For all of the opportunities and accomplishments that have been mine since she died in 1985, I can imagine her support and blessing.

Anna Mae Long lost her parents while still in her teens. Because of this, she married her one true love earlier than planned. She wanted children right away but God in His wisdom let her mature a couple of more years before the babies started coming: three during the Great Depression, two during pre-World War II unrest and a baby boomer after the war was over.

As a homemaker — full-time-stay-at-home-mom, she exhibited her skills for organizing, managing money, for making do and for making everything stretch a little farther. Later,when there were no longer children at home, she used these skills as President of the Woman’s Society of Christian Service of the North Texas Conference, leading women in the missionary efforts of the Methodist Church.

My mother loved the finer things: poetry, literature and music. She had excellent grammar and taught her children to use it correctly. I’m sure we learned mostly by hearing it spoken.

I’m sorry she didn’t have time to write more. I’m sorry she didn’t keep a journal. We had long conversations over the years but I still think of questions I wish I had asked her.

She loved her family. Sometime in the late 1940s she wrote the following poem.

Those are MY Children

Those are my children pictured there … Four precious girls with ribboned hair,

Two darling boys in starched shirts and ties, Six dear angels in disguise.

Six million dollars they represent! Each one to me the Lord has lent

To keep awhile. And I must take care  To train them well while I have them here.

A mother’s pride in the things they do, Knows each day a joy anew.

The joys so far the cares out weigh, With added blessings to each day.

Yes, those are my children — blessings real, That fill our home with love and zeal;

A scattered sock, a book amiss, A tattered, a juicy kiss.

As Mom to six I have so much A loving smile, a caressing touch

I’d not trade places with a queen And have to miss one little thing!

Sometimes I scold, I will confess, But that does not mean I love them less;

Or that I’d want to be without The memory of one joyous shout.

I thank Thee, Lord, to have the right To bid them each a fond goodnight.

Guide me that my light may shine To link each of their lives with Thine.

Anna Long Alderson

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A few gadgets

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One evening last week The History Channel showed “101 Gadgets that Changed the World.”  It was an hour-long show, thus a pretty fast trip down memory lane for me. Most gadgets’ few seconds were up before I had time to get too nostalgic.

In addition to mentioning all these gizmos, they also briefly told why or how they changed the world. Some were easy to see — like duct tape. How would we live without that? Or the match, personal computer, zipper? The transistor radio was credited with the popularity of rock and roll. I’m not sure why. Maybe because it made the teens and their music mobile, got them out of the reach of their parents?

The Smart Phone was deemed the number 1 gadget that has changed the world. And while the Smart Phone hasn’t changed my life yet, I can see how others might think it number one.

The item that really caught my attention and brought back memories was the ball point pen. Eversharp, maker of mechanical pencils, introduced the ballpoint pen to the United States in 1945.  It cost about $10., which is comparable to $100 today.  Nowadays they are given away free as promotions.

These pens must have become more affordable in the 50’s because I remember seeing them in the stationery stores with the school supplies. They cost about the same as any fountain pen.  The big sales pitch was that the ballpoint pens wouldn’t leak (supposedly) or smear.

However, my teachers at Denison High School made it clear that they would not accept work in ballpoint pen. It had to be written in real ink.

An example of people resisting change, even when it might be for the better.

I also worked for a company in the middle 80s that refused to follow the electronics fads. They said they would never computerize. Guess what? They did.

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Just a Little Perspective

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From a column in The Arkansas Times dated April 4:

“It was a bad week for Joe Thompson. The state surgeon general was arrested at his Little Rock home Saturday, and was later charged with disorderly conduct, resisting arrest, use of force and attempting to influence a public official following what police say was a drunken altercation with a security guard and Little Rock police officers.”

“It was a bad week for Bobby Petrino. The University of Arkansas head football coach was injured in a motorcycle accident Sunday in Newton County. He’s expected to make a full recovery.”

Arkansans hearing the Joe Thompson story rolled their collective eyes at a public official showing his bad side.  To the Bobby Petrino story the response was, “Bless his heart.”

Now, less than a month later, more details of both stories are available (thanks to the Arkansas Freedom of Information Act) and our perspective has changed.

Bobby Petrino, bless his heart, had a female passenger on his cycle. Can open — worms come out, and now he’s out of a job.

And Joe Thompson may have grounds for false arrest. I won’t try to detail that story but if you want to hear the tape of the encounter, search YouTube for “Arkansas Surgeon General.”

Perspective.

Just last week, two young girls were assaulted as they walked through a quiet neighborhood in Beebe, my Dream Home Town. Four days later, the story ran on the local Fox channel’s 9:00 pm newscast. Almost immediately, questions appeared on Facebook. Residents of Beebe were concerned. By 10:00, most were searching the other three Little Rock channels for more information.  Nothing. The CBS, NBC and ABC affiliates in this area picked up the story two days later.

You see, it’s all a matter of perspective. An assault on teen girls in a small, quiet town — probably the safest town in Arkansas — just isn’t very newsworthy when compared to … say … the University of Arkansas hiring a new football coach.

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Books Glorious Books

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I need another bookcase. The four I own are overflowing. Books also fill the corner shelves made for knick-knacks and cover the end tables. More volumes line the stairs.

Please don’t suggest I ‘get rid’ (cruel expression) of some of these books unless you yourself are willing to give one a good home. Then I’ll decide if it’s something I can part with.

Okay. I know it would help if I would stop buying used books. But I have a good reason for each one I buy: I haven’t read this book and I like the author’s work; this book is a classic and/or old; I read this book before and liked it but I don’t think I own it. As you can see, these are all valid excuses for adding to my collection.

Recently I went Goodwill shopping with my BFF, Pat. (Cabot, AR has the best Goodwill store ever!) As we entered, I said to Pat, “Don’t let me buy any books.”

Well, not only did she not prevent me from buying, she was an enabler! “Look, this is by Lynne Truss who wrote Eats Shoots and Leaves. You’ll want this.” Of course I did. That was in the I-like-the-author’s-work category so I bought Talk to the Hand. And before I left the store I chose three more.

I found Mister God This is Anna by Fynn. In 1974 this was the Christian book to read, but I never did. It is a small paper back, rather yellow and brittle and I fully intend to read it one day.

I also bought a 1924 edition of The Methodist Hymnal with shaped notes. The topical index in the back is in 3 point type. (I have 1939 and 1966 editions of TMH, plus newer copies of the The United Methodist Hymnal.)

The last book I purchased that day is a 1954 Summer Edition of Readers Digest Condensed Books. I subscribed to this series when I was a young stay-at-home mom without much time to read. I particularly remember this one that contains The Desperate Hours by Joseph Hayes (later to be made into a movie with Humphrey Bogart) and Tomorrow by Philip Wylie, a tale of what could happen if the Russians launched an atomic attack on the United States. (This was 1954, remember.)  I enjoyed these stories the first time around and plan to read them again.

Someday.

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Not the Sharpest Tool

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A few years ago, a certain pop singer loudly declared that he was ‘not the sharpest tool in the shed.’ He is not alone. I, myself, live a good deal of the time in blissful oblivion, taking everything at face value.

As a child, I heard, “Step on a crack, it’ll break your mother’s back.” And, conversely, I figured if splits in the sidewalk could be avoided, my mother would be okay. (Later in life my mother had many back problems, so it would seem some of my siblings were not as careful as I.)

In the early Fifties, it was my belief that, in case of nuclear attack, school children would be safe if hidden under their desks.

During the Sixties, I saw a poster with a picture of a pretty green leaf and the words, “Miss Mary Jane.” Logic told me this must be promoting a new folk singer, though the significance of the leaf was unclear.

Later, in the Seventies, when a personal ad appeared seeking swingers, I assumed someone was organizing a square dance club.

I thought Hooters was a gathering place for owl fanciers … kind of like the Audubon Society with fries.

In the Nineties, I colored my gray hair auburn. Many, many people told me I looked ten years younger. And I believed them. Why would they say something like that if it weren’t true? I fully expected to get carded when I asked for a Senior Citizen’s discount. But to my surprise that didn’t happen.

Now we have entered the 21st Century. I deal with the mysteries of iPods, iPads, iPhones and iPhorget-what-all. I am faced with Facebook (or in-your-face-book, as a friend calls it). It sees all, knows all and tells all using acronyms I’m afraid to use because I don’t know what they mean.

So as an aging Pollyanna, I’ve decided it’s okay if sometimes it seems I don’t have both oars in the water. I do pretty well on the activities of daily living. I don’t have enough money to buy the Brooklyn Bridge.  And God loves me just the way I am.

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