Grandma's Halloween

Halloween! I love Halloween. I don’t love Halloween because it’s scary or because I like to dress up as somebody odd. I love Halloween because I’m a grandma.

I love Halloween because I got to dress up my granddaughter when she was little. One year she was Tinkerbell. I made that costume and am proud of it. One year she was an upscale witch. We went to a resale shop and found a fancy, tiny, formal dress that, combined with a witch’s hat and a broom, made my granddaughter the best dressed witch in the west. One year she wanted to be an M and M.

Hum. Made that costume, but had a bit of a hitch while ironing it for the final presentation on Oct. 31. That’s when son walked by and made the comment, “Uh mom, you got the M on backwards.” Oops. Had to start from scratch.

And that’s why I love Halloween. It’s called grandchildren.

Being a grandma is the greatest job in the world. I, and other grandparents, have noticed that parents do not understand this attitude. Parents are just happy when the grandparents agree to take on the child overnight, or longer. We grandparents tell them that they will change their attitude in the future, when the parents become grandparents themselves. They don’t believe us. But, without exception and I mean WITHOUT EXCEPTION, every parent I know who became a grandparent has recognized that new attitude.

“It’s a whole new world.” Yes it is.

Now, however, my grandchildren are all grown up, and I don’t even want to know what they do on Halloween. That might really scare me. But they have children of their own now. Unfortunately, most of them are too far away to come visit this great-grandma.

And the one who lives near, my 2-year-old great-grandson Jarek, has a closely related grandma. That is my Darling Daughter. Darling Daughter has discovered the greatest job in the world. She loves being a grandma. Darling Daughter likes to be called Grams. And Grams has discovered the joy of Halloween – the grandchild.

I got this text this week (only slightly edited) from Darling Daughter, otherwise known as Grams:  “Jarek is going trick-or-treating. He will be coming to your house. I will be there. How exciting!!! I have to get stuff to give him. I’m happy happy happy!”

No doubt I am going to be in big trouble for reporting the above, but it was so cute I couldn’t resist. I can still be proud of my Darling Daughter, especially now that she’s a grandma.

But hey. I have plans too. It’s called Halloween on Elm Street. It’s from 4 to 7 p.m. Saturday in Sallisaw. And I will be there. I will be there at the Friends of the Library booth and maybe even hang out a little with the KXMX gang who will also have a booth. Now I’m excited. Because I plan to tell every little kid who comes by, dressed up as an M and M, or a witch, or Tinkerbelle, that this grandma thinks they are the greatest and have the best costume ever! And Grandma wishes them Happy Halloween. And, I hear Jarek plans to stop by too. Woohoo!

He Is a Hero

A new television show on public television has captured my heart. It’s called “Home Fires.”

This television show is described as a period piece, which dramatizes how the women in Britain responded to the outbreak of World War II. The heartbreaking center of this, to me, captivating drama, depicts the women’s response not just to the war, but to the fact that their men - their husbands and sons – had to go fight that war.

As they send their men off to fight, their worry and sadness makes my own insides clinch.

I am the mother of two veterans, and a grandmother with only one grandson, who was deployed to Iraq and Afghanistan three times. I know the terror those women must have felt. I know how they feared the knock on the door, the ringing of the telephone, the delivery of the telegram.

I remember the fear the mothers and family members fought off when Operation Desert Storm began so many years ago. I remember holding in my arms the sobbing mother of one young man who was in the thick of it in Iraq.

We fought it off that paralyzing fear by starting a support group. That support group raised money, collected the name and address of every military person with county connections, and made sure that person had a message or package from our own home fires every week. They wrote back, and said it helped. Those efforts of support certainly helped us survive the fear of losing a loved one in war.

But now, we have lost one of our own. Master Sgt. Joshua L. Wheeler died Oct. 22, wounded in a raid in Afghanistan. A career soldier, Sgt. Wheeler is from Roland and is a graduate of Muldrow High School.

Once again, insides clinch. My head hangs in sorrow. Tears well in the eyes. I know members of this man’s family.

“He ran toward the gunfire,” Ash Carter, Department of Defense secretary, told the media.

We always send our best, don’t we? My heart, our hearts, are heavy.

When I spoke with that family member, there was little I could say to ease that burden. I did the best I could. “He helped save 70 people,” was all I could muster.

“Yes,” that person said. “His four sons will always remember him as a hero.” Sgt. Wheeler has four sons and a baby, and he helped save 70 persons who were to be murdered. And he ran toward the gunfire.

He is a hero. He is one of our own.

The Squirrely Squirrel in My Back Yard

Does Halloween cause critters to behave badly? Or, perhaps more correctly – to behave weirdly?

I, and almost everyone else we suppose who hangs up a bird feeder, has an ongoing war with squirrels. I have been battling squirrels who like to feloniously snitch the feed from my bird feeders. Not only do they snatch the food, they also destroy the feeders. Two have hit the ground so far. Those dang squirrels ate through the cords by which my best feeder hung, causing it to crash and spill seeds everywhere. Those toothsome little devils gnawed right through the plastic of the second feeder.

In an effort to protect my birds, who used to flock to my feeders, I tried a tactic found in a bird magazine. They advised I feed the squirrels elsewhere. The magazine suggested some corn on the cob be hung from bungee cords no less, from a different tree. The author suggested a delightful display of squirrels trying to climb down a bungee cord to get to the corn would result in endless hours of entertainment.

Maybe that author’s squirrels are dumb, but my country squirrels are not. They have not yet tried to crawl down that bungee cord. And they still go after the easier bird feed.

So, I now feed my birds only when I’m home so I can protect their food.

And that’s when I spotted the squirrely squirrel.

The Urban Dictionary defines squirrely as mild insane, unpredictable and jumpy, and nutty, as resembling a squirrel looking for nuts.

All of which applied to this particular squirrel. This squirrel was jumping up and down in my back yard. Way up and down. Like on a trampoline up and down. It looked like it could have been hanging from a bungee cord, bouncing up and down. Except, it was on its own feet, and hopping up and down as fast as it could, on the ground.

There was not bird feeder nearby. There was no corn cobs hanging over its head. There was nothing, like a dog or cat, seeking it skinny little body for lunch. This squirrel was simply in my back yard jumping up and down like crazy. Mildly insane? Possibly yes. Unpredictable and jumpy? Absolutely! Looking for nuts? There wasn’t a nut in sight.

I decided this was simply a squirrely squirrel. Maybe it was enjoying our glorious fall season. Maybe it was practicing how to reach those corn cobs. Or my bird feeders. Maybe it was planning some strange Halloween party. Or maybe it was just happy to be alive. I’d like to think that.

The squirrely squirrel hasn’t been seen since. And my bird feeders are still hanging in their original spaces and still feeding the lovely birds.

But I am worried now about my squirrely squirrel. I hope it has recovered, if need be, from whatever was bothering it. Or, if it was simply happy, and jumping up and down with the pure joy of being alive, go for it squirrel. I might come out in the back yard and join you.

Spiders Are Mommies Too!

October is a lovely month, with Halloween looming at the end of the month. Halloween doesn’t scare me, but some of its characters do.

No, not afraid of witches, goblins, werewolves, vampires, mummies, ghosts, etc., all those characters that pop up in miniature size looking for candy on our front porches.

What I really fear is, gulp, the spider! And spiders and spider webs seem to be in abundance on Halloween.

Arachnophobia is a fear most people suffer from, particularly women. Yep, even me I confess. But when you grow up and live in the country, surrounded by woods and fields, you sort of become used to the little eight-legged creepy crawlies. In the fall they all seem to want to come in and set up housekeeping with you. Uh, I’m not really OK with that.

More recently, one crawled into the KXMX building right here in town. Don’t know what this spider was thinking, but the dude got himself trapped in the air conditioning vent over the toilet in the women’s restroom. Well, that was a mistake.

Can you imagine what the woman sitting there thought when she heard that scrabbling around above her head, and then little pieces of dust began to fall from the vent? Uh, yeah. She ran.

And that circumstance resulted in a full-blown assault by the men in the building, who had to resort to dismantling the vent and using a vacuum cleaner to remove that dumb and doomed spider. And no woman would go in that restroom until it was proven that said spider was dead and in the vacuum cleaner bag. It was confirmed, thank goodness.

So, when I took a break on a sunny afternoon, out the back door of our KXMX building, and saw a spider sitting on the sidewalk, I thought, “Oh oh. You’re in trouble.” I must also confess that I have, number one, an insatiable curiosity about the natural world, and, number two, this thing about killing other critters. 

I don’t like it. Don’t want to do it if at all possible. There are a few exceptions. The spider in the bathtub had to go last week, and that copperhead snake under the horse hay did have to be dispatched. In my own defense I did let the garter snake escape when I mowed the lawn last Saturday.

And I saw nothing wrong with this thumbnail-sized spider on the back sidewalk. Until I looked closer. Spider seemed to have warts. Well, that was unusual. I sort of nudged spider with foot, and she dispersed. She dispersed into a 1,000 teeny tiny spiders, all smaller than a pinhead. They scattered everywhere. Oh, it dawned on me. This was a mommy spider and her offspring. I wondered if this was the kind of spider who was eaten by her offspring. So I gave mommy spider another nudge to see if she was alive, and she ran, followed by a 1,000 baby spiders. So Mom Spider lived and raised 1,000 babies on her back. Poor thing. 

Can’t imagine raising thousands. Three was bad enough!

A check on the internet suggested this may be a wolf spider and babies. But Mrs. Wolf was way too close to the back door. And entry into that back door meant 1,000 baby wolf spiders roaming KXMX, which, as discussed above, is unacceptable and opens the door to death by vacuum cleaner.

So, I herded spiders. Yes. I conducted a wolf spider roundup and tried to drive Mrs. Wolf and all her many children away from the back door. I was sort of successful. Mrs. Wolf scurried away, hauling some children on her back while others tried to follow in her eight footsteps. I could only hope she didn’t return and try to gain entrance to the building where the arachnophobes live.

It was my good deed for the day, although now that I think of it, I suspect the arachnophobes would just as soon I had stepped on Mrs. Wolf and all her offspring, leaving one-thousand-and-one less things to fear on Halloween.

Goodbye Mr. Stites

With great sadness and a heavy heart we wish goodbye to one of Sallisaw’s greats, J.T. Stites.

I always called him Mr. Stites, even though I’ve known him for 36 years. I called him Mr. Stites because I had great respect for this retired educator and legislator who was also a good friend.

Mr. Stites was principal at Sallisaw High School when all three of my kids attended and graduated there. In fact a couple of my kids may not have graduated without his help. I’m pretty sure he had a hand in getting them their high school diplomas. And I say that with a grin, kids. Now my boys are engineers.

Thank you Mr. Stites.

Darling Daughter has a memory too, about skipping out of high school.  She recalled, “He asked me where I was, and I said, ‘I skipped out.’ He said, ‘Well, since you told me the truth, “I’m not going to do anything about it.’”

Daughter said she then decided, “Well, from now on I’m going to tell the truth.”

Thank you Mr. Stites.

I have my own Mr. Stites story. Once, while on break from the state legislature, Mr. Stites stopped at a barbershop on Oak Street for a haircut. To do so, he had to take off his new OU ball cap, a gift from his son. Everybody got to talking about politics or whatever, and Mr. Stites left the barbershop without that very important OU hat.

Back in Oklahoma City he realized his OU hat was missing but he knew just where it was. Well, who you gonna’ call? He called me, at my desk right across the street from the barbershop.

“Save my hat,” he said. “It was a gift. I’ve got to have that hat back.”

That was no problem. The barber knew where that hat belonged. I retrieved it and delivered it to Mr. Sties on his next trip home. And he told that story to everybody we ever met at the same time.

Shannon Vann, Sallisaw businessman and former mayor, has a Mr. Stites story. Vann is a 1986 Sallisaw High School graduate. He recalled, “Mr. Stites took over a geometry class one day when the teacher was out. I think he enjoyed teaching more than being a principal.

“One day we were late getting back to class after lunch,” Vann related. 

Laughing, he continued, “We ran right through those rotunda doors. Of course Mr. Stites was standing right there. We nearly ran over him. He called out all of our names before we got down the hall, and we all had to go back and tell him why we were late.”

Daughter, Vann and others reported that Mr. Stites always remembered your name, no matter how long ago you graduated. Daughter reported, “Every time I saw him he asked how my brothers were, by name.”

Darren Girdner here at The Mix recalls his high school days with Mr. Stites. He recalled, “I’d get in trouble and get sent to the principal’s office. He’d ask me what happened and I’d tell him. Then he would say, ‘Well, just sit here for while then go back to class and they’ll think we did something about it.”

Bill Aydelott, now age 84, served as Mr. Stites assistant principal from 1974 to 1987. He has many Mr. Stites stories.

He said of Mr. Stites, “He was the most moral person I know, the most honest, the most modest.”

The assistant principal remembered the two were attending a conference in Oklahoma City. After the meeting, Mr. Stites suggested a visit to watch the hotel’s entertainment. But Aydelott said he was tired and was going to bed. 

About midnight the lights came on as Mr. Stites returned to the room.

“There’s a singer down there. He’s selling sausage,” Mr. Stites related. Aydelott said he found that hard to believe. He continued, “I got up and went down to breakfast the next morning. Mr. Stites was still asleep.”

Aydelott said he had to rethink the previous evening when the singer and sausage seller Jimmy Dean came into the restaurant and sat down at the table next to him.

“We had fun,” Aydelott said. “We had a good time. He’d tell stories on me too.”

Mr. Stites son, Tom, took a few minutes to recall his father’s stories. He related how he found it hard shopping with his dad, because everyone they met would visit. Tom Stites said, “Dad and I went into Walmart for a quart of oil. An hour later we left.” That’s because everyone they met wanted to visit and tell stories with Mr. Stites.

Tom Stites compares his father to the lead character in the classical movie, “it’s a Wonderful life.” That character is George Bailey, played by James Stewart. The movie points out how many lives are impacted when one good person does the right thing.

“I believe my dad was the George Bailey of our town,” he said. “He never said a bad word about anyone, and he helped everybody, even loaned them money.”

When cautioned by his family, Tom said his dad just replied, “Don’t worry. They’ll pay it back.”

Tom Stites said, “It’s incredible. I must have received 400 contacts and emails from people about their experiences with him. It’s unreal the people whose lives he touched. He had an incredible memory for students’ names and even the year they graduated. He was the richest man in town.”

Flags are at half-staff, hearts are heavy, tears are plentiful.

Goodbye Mr. Stites. We are going to miss you. But your stories will live on forever, as legends.

Berra’s Baseball Philosophy, or How to Twist the Language

The world mourns the loss of Lawrence Peter ‘Yogi’ Berra this week.

I

’m not a big baseball fan, except of course when it came to my own sons playing Little League many years ago. Still I have fond memories of major league baseball. I remember my Dad and uncle sitting on the back porch in the summer, drinking beer, and listening to the Cincinnati Reds on the radio. It was a summer tradition. That’s when I heard the Yogi Berra name first, while Dad listened or watched his beloved baseball teams.

But it wasn’t the New York Yankees catcher Berra that got my attention. It was the hilarious twister of the English language Berra that still makes me laugh out loud.

We have all heard Berra’s “It ain’t over till it’s over.” But there are many more Berra quotes, many of which are even funnier.

An internet search reveals even better Berra quotes. Read on and laugh out loud. I did.

“You should always go to other people's funerals; otherwise, they won't come to yours.”

 

“The future ain't what it used to be.”

 

“He hits from both sides of the plate. He’s amphibious.”

“I always thought that record would stand until it was broken.”

“I can see how he (Sandy Koufax) won 25 games. What I don’t understand is how he lost five.”

“I want to thank everyone for making this night necessary.”

“Little League baseball is a very good thing because it keeps the parents off the streets.”

 

“If you don't know where you are going, you might wind up someplace else.”

“You better cut the pizza in four pieces because I'm not hungry enough to eat six.”

 

“Love is the most important thing in the world, but baseball is pretty good, too.”

“Baseball is ninety percent mental and the other half is physical.”

“You've got to be very careful if you don't know where you are going, because you might not get there.”

 

“A nickel ain't worth a dime anymore.”

 

“There are some people who, if they don't already know, you can't tell 'em.”

 

“You can observe a lot by watching.”

 

“You wouldn't have won if we'd beaten you.”

 

“Nobody goes there anymore. It's too crowded.”

 

“A lot of guys go, 'Hey, Yog, say a Yogi-ism.' I tell 'em, 'I don't know any.' They want me to make one up. I don't make 'em up. I don't even know when I say it. They're the truth. And it is the truth. I don't know.”

 

“I wish I had an answer to that because I'm tired of answering that question.”

 

As a user of the English language, it must be Berra’s English language twist that tickles me so much. And read carefully, and sometimes contemplate upon Berra’s quotes, because they often reveal a more profound philosophy and understanding than appears at first glance.

Hello Fall. Welcome Back.

Hello Fall, or Autumn if you prefer. So glad to welcome you back.

According to the Farmer’s Almanac, Fall or Autumn 2015 begins at 3:21 a.m. on Sept. 23. I want to be awake to welcome the season. Darling Daughter and I discussed it just last week and decided we love Fall. It is our favorite season. Winter is too cold. Summer is too hot. Spring is too wet. And fall is just right.

Fall brings back a lot of I-want-to's. Like, I want to wear tall boots again, and put away the flip flops.

I want to light candles, and not fear raising the temperature in the house to 

over 100 degrees.

I want to snuggle up in one of the many sweaters I own.

I want to drink hot cider, and hot cocoa, and hot anything.

I want to eat hot chili, both temperature and spicy wise.

I want to build bonfires, and gather the grandchildren around the fire and tell them the ghost stories my mom told me.

I want to burn a hot dog till its black over that bonfire and eat it slathered in mustard.

I want to add a crispy marshmallow as dessert.

I want to watch football, lots and lots of football.

I want to play a game of badminton in the back yard and not sweat.

I want to take a long trail ride on a horse I trust.

I want to crochet an afghan and not get too hot because it must lay on my lap.

I want to go for long walks in the woods and not worry about stepping on a rattlesnake or being bitten by a tick.

I want to sit on the back porch and watch Canadian geese fly by on the way to the wildlife refuge or further south.

I want to know what my great-grandkids are going to wear for Halloween. And I want photos.

I want to be amazed as the leaves on my oaks and maples turn gorgeous colors.

And those are a few of the reasons I like fall.

Fall’s colors are an event that everyone enjoys. So I searched for why. It’s hard to believe what I found. Ha. Ha. Read on, and laugh out loud.

Found on the internet:

Manager of restaurant in New England answers phone and has the following conversation:

Manager:  How may I help you?”

Caller: “Yes, are you outside?”

Me: “No, ma’am, I’m in an office. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Caller: “Well, do you know when the leaves change out there?”

Me: “Yes, they’re changing now. They’re very beautiful.”

Caller: “What?! We missed it!”

Me: “No, ma’am, the leaves aren’t done changing.”

Caller: “Well, we live in New York and won’t be able to make it there today. What day do they change back?”

Me: “Um…they don’t change back. They fall, like the season.”

Caller: “Well, when do you put them back on the tree?”

Me: “Er…’Put The Leaves Back On The Trees’ day?”

Caller: “Oh, thank you!”

That story is allegedly true. Apparently some city folks don’t exactly understand how Fall works. I’m so glad I do. Welcome back Fall. We missed you.