The flowers appear on the earth . . .

For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone;  The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come.  Song of Solomon 2:11-12 KJV

This verse seems to me to be about spring. It’s been set to music and years ago (in another life) I taught it to Primary Choir children.

Driving home yesterday this scripture kept coming to mind and I struggled to remember the exact words and the melody we sang.

I had spent the day at Couchwood, the home of my BFF Pat. The yard of the early-Twentieth Century home is beautiful this time of year, though I think this is the first time I’ve seen it in all its glory. We walked around the one-acre as I oohed and aahed at the gorgeous plants, many whose names I can’t remember today. Besides the pink dogwood, there was sassafras, snowball, pinks, morning glories and lambs ear … they are the ones I recall.

I would ask the name, Pat would tell me and perhaps give a little history. “Mom planted this iris bed … I don’t know how long ago.” The white blooms return faithfully every year.  We were accompanied on our walk by the singing of a cardinal, high in one of the giant trees.

There is a reason why the yard at Couchwood is prettier than the one at Hatfield Haven  (I just made that up). Pat loves to help it look good, I don’t particularly enjoy working in the yard. (I talk about that on July 14, 2010.) She gave me some lambs ear and fern-y looking plant and I dutifully followed instructions on how to put them in the ground.

I’ll let you know how that works out.

To read Pat’s poetry and prose visit www.patlaster.com.

LEAVE A REPLY

The Best is Yet to Be

My Aunt Tinsy passed this week.  I don’t usually use euphemisms when someone dies, but for her the word seems appropriate. She was 98 years old, my dad’s last surviving sibling. She passed peacefully from this life to eternal life with her Savior and many loved ones.

Edna Earl Alderson Allmond had a beautiful name, I always thought. But I heard the story that she was a pretty hefty baby and my grandfather loved giving out nicknames. So, she was Tinsy all her life.

Within months after Uncle Roy died, Aunt Tinsy moved to Dallas to be near her daughter and grandchildren. I couldn’t believe it! She had lived in a small town for years. She had never learned to drive. Would she be okay?

But in the retirement community Aunt Tinsy blossomed!  For the next 10 years she enjoyed the social life — bingo, canasta, parties, friendship and love from friends she made at Meadowstone Place. Once, when I was asking about her new apartment complex, she told me, “Everyone who lives here is old. Some of them comb their hair and some don’t.”

I attended Aunt Tinsy’s 98th birthday party in January. It was a wonderful time with friends and family. She kept us all entertained with her conversation (about current events) and her quick wit.

She was at home in her apartment, her daughter holding her hand, when she gave a sigh and fell asleep in the arms of Jesus.

A life well lived.

LEAVE A REPLY

What’s So Funny?

When someone asks, “Why did you laugh?” the stock answer is “Because it was funny!” Any further explanation is often pointless. Finally you just had to be there.

Writers are told up front that humor is subjective . . . what’s funny to one person might not be humorous at all to the next. When someone takes a tumble one friend might call 911 while the other doubles over laughing. Thus the popularity of America’s Funniest Videos and slapstick comedy in general. So, writer, if your amusing article is not appreciated by the contest judge or editor, you should keep your knickers in the untwisted position . . . they just didn’t get it.

The Center for Brain Science at Harvard University has conducted studies on how humor affects the brain. For instance, they put volunteers in an MRI machine and tracked their brain activity while they watched an episode of Seinfeld. They found that “getting a joke uses the same part of the brain that is used to solve complex problems.  There is a link between intelligence and and a sense of humor.”

Thank you!

Infants will laugh at a rubber-faced comedian or a clown in a prat fall. Their brains don’t have to be very well developed to get that sort of humor. And we laugh at slapstick, too. It’s one of those things we do because we don’t have to use many brain cells to enjoy it. Like reading a dime novel or watching an inane show on TV. But stand-up comedy, the one-liners or the play on words required an altogether different side of the brain.

Scott Weems new book, Ha! The Science of When We Laugh and Why, (Basic Books of New York) is an “investigation into the science of humor and laughter.” I wouldn’t presume to review a book I haven’t read, but it sounds like Dr. Weems (doctorate in cognitive neuroscience) has done his homework well, as did the scientists at Harvard. By the way, Weems is from North Little Rock.

You can see more about the CBS Sunday Morning video that piqued my interest here and more about Scott Weems writing here

Back to the question of why we laugh. E.B. White said, “Humor can be dissected as a frog can, but the thing dies in the process and the innards are discouraging to any but the pure scientific mind.”

LEAVE A REPLY

If There are Boxes, It’s Not Hoarding

Continuing my Spring Break trip to the attic.

One of the boxes I opened last week contained my baby book and autograph books from grade school (remember those?).  For safe keeping, I put them away in a large plastic tub marked “Scrapbooks” and moved on.

I have to confess here that I save newspaper clippings. That’s not so strange (she said defensively). My mother saved poetry from the columns in the newspaper. I inherited a shoe box full of Edgar A. Guest. My BFF reads the newspaper thoroughly every day to clip items of interest and fasten them in a journal with her comments. I wish I were so organized.

I often keep an article of interest and put in a file folder to be transferred to a box when the folder is too fat. My ultimate plan at one time might have been to make a scrapbook or journal. I don’t know. But from the contents of the box from a few years ago that I found, it would seem I saved virtually everything Erma Bombeck or Mollie Ivins ever wrote. I easily tossed these out. I have their books now.

I obviously felt obligated to keep the obituary of every single person I knew, cartoons and comic strips I found amusing,  and “years in review.” As I sorted and tossed, I stopped to read occasionally. But I made good time going through that box, feeling no sentiment, just amazement that I had saved all that junk (and moved it at least once).

Several times I came across a whole section of newspaper and had to look at each page to figure out why on earth I had saved that particular piece. I could not throw it away without knowing.  That ‘s part of the illness.

Thus, I became engrossed in reading a Perspective section of the Arkansas Democrat Gazette dated in May, 2001. The paper it was printed on was huge – 14 inches across when the present issue has shrunk to barely 12. There were whole pages dedicated to books and travel. I can only guess why I saved this issue. I think it was because I had worked the crossword puzzle perfectly, something that doesn’t happen very often.

In this almost 13-year-old paper was an op-ed on the pros and cons (mostly pros) of the proposed law to ban smoking in restaurants.  An increased ‘bed tax’ on the nursing homes was advancing through the legislature. A ‘100-year flood’ swelled the Mississippi River, the 4th such flood in the past 8 years. A headline promised to tell us “How Schools Can Recognize and Prevent Bullying.”  And Congress was fighting over a health care issue: The Patients’ Bill of Rights (which did not pass).

Well, this stream of consciousness has gone from 70-80 year old mementos to revisiting our pre-9-11 issues. Such are the adventures in my attic. The job’s not done but I made a big dent.

LEAVE A REPLY

Quality time in the attic

For Lent, I decided to keep my New Year’s resolutions.

I’m being facetious of course. But, seriously, I did vow to use Spring Break to hack away at a to-do list I’ve had for a long time.

One is a goal every person my age should have: Do your kids a favor and get rid of that stuff.

Earlier this month I spent a Saturday going through a box that contained roughly 60 years of Mother’s Day cards.  After the first hour spent reading each card and putting it in an “undecided” stack, I realized the project needed to move faster. I tossed out all the cards that had only signatures and kept the notes and enclosed letters to read later.

The result of an afternoon of work? One-half a box cleared out. So you see my problem. How can I trash a hand-made card signed in all capital letters and a backward E?

Yesterday was a Spring Break Day dedicated to the boxes. One marked “Newspapers” was exactly that. I lifted the lid and on top was a copy of The Nashville Banner (later swallowed up by the Tennessean) dated November 23, 1992, with the headline “Country Music Legend Roy Acuff Dies” splashed just under the masthead in huge type. I thought it significant that a story that appeared in other big city papers in the entertainment section was front page news in Music City.

I confess that from time to time I have saved a newspaper with a headline I thought outstanding or interesting. I have a Staples paper box full of them. I think on the bottom there is a Denison (TX) Herald announcing Eisenhower’s election. I decided to keep this box and let the kids enjoy a little history.

More later. Stay tuned.

LEAVE A REPLY