Condemned by Blood

I waited apprehensively for the phone call to come. I just knew I was going to need a lawyer to explain to those ladies that I had not hit the bloody couple with my car- that the blood on my car was from them, but through no fault of mine! What would I say if the police called?

...............................................1 hour earlier................................................

I had decided to take a short lunch break and swing into Target to look for some shoes. After 20 minutes I was headed to my car and approaching it from the passenger side. I suddenly noticed a slight commotion and a couple of people next to the driver side door of my car. Someone was on the ground and another person was kneeling over them as a third walked toward them with a bunch of paper towels.

I slowed, curious to see what was going on and wondering if I was going to be delayed in leaving. As I rounded my car I noticed a man bending over an older woman who was sitting on the ground. The back of the man's knee was splattered with blood. I nervously asked, "Um, excuse me, is everything ok?" The man bending over the woman was startled to hear a voice less than 10 feet from behind him and turned to glance back at me. As he moved I saw the woman's face- her chin was covered in blood.

The man with the paper towels reached the hood of my car and answered for them: "She fell. Everything's ok. Is this your car?"

I had many thoughts running through my head and was trying to figure out what to do next. "Yes. Is there anything I can do?"

"No, we've got it." The man with paper towels said.

"Here, let's get the blood off your car," said the man who'd been bending over the woman. I was shocked to hear that and to see him wiping blood off my car. Noticing my look he said, "She tried to stand up using your mirror."

Suddenly it occured to me that I might be able to help. "I have a first aid kit we can use? Would that help?" I looked at the woman who looked dazed. My first concern was that she was all right.

The 'paper towel man' said, "No, we've really got this. You can go. Back up carefully though- staight back."

I felt like the little girl he was treating me. I acquiesced and climbed into my car. Using my blood-splattered mirror and my rear-view I began to back up. I had to brake for a young man who wanted to see what was going on and then again as a car stopped right behind me to gawk. Looking at them through my bloody mirror I saw the condemning looks of the two elderly ladies in the fancy car. I shrugged and tried to back up a bit to goose them into action. They glared at me and then continued on.

Once I'd backed up I paused for about 30 seconds to watch a woman and the two original men trying hard to help the bloody woman stand. She fell twice, but with the help of the fourth young man they got her on her feet. Suddenly, the same fancy car with the two old ladies who'd hindered me from backing out came flying through a break in the parked cars and whipped in front of me. The driver was on the phone and she was talking angrily while looking at my car. Confused I looked at her just in time to see her angry, accusing eyes looking back. It was then that it hit me: "They think that I hit those people with my car!!!!" I shook my head wanting to explain that I hadn't done anything. But how could I? I even had red evidence against me smeared and splattered on my car!

I had the glares of the two elderly women stuck in my mind as I drove back to the office.

I took pictures of the blood on my car and then used many clorox wipes to scrub off the blood. There was more than I'd thought there'd been. When my car was blood-free, I spent the afternoon with the light concern that I might be hearing from the police. Even though three people knew I was innocent, I was haunted by the judgemental looks of those two women! The drive home was a solid reminder that it had happened as the clorox made my sideview mirror foggy. I'm going to have to find something else to use to clean that.

I'm pretty sure now that I won't be hearing from police, but I did get a jury summons in the mail today. Second one this year...I'm questioning the 'lottery' system. Hope it isn't about a parking lot incident...

Craig's List for Dummies

"Ummm, nevermind. We don't want it!" my roomie firmly said into the phone as I circled the parking lot. I had handed her the phone since her voice sounds older than mine. I already knew I was buying something from a male via the way he wrote his text messages. Jessie and I both had our knives ready- though how and when we thought we were going to use them remains a mystery...


I had heard of Craig's List for years. I had actually roomed with a woman my friend found on Craig's List and it had not been bliss. It could have been worse, but it definitely made me shudder whenever someone mentioned how amazing Craig's List was.

We had just moved into our new apartment and I was hunting for a larger aquarium and stand- something larger than my 20 gallon and unstable tiny stand. After price-checking the local pet-stores I was ready to search for a used item- and hopefully avoid shipping charges. It would never have occurred to me to try Craig's List, save for the fact that two friends posted (at the same time one day) on Facebook about their amazing deals they'd just gotten.

"I wonder if they sell fish tanks on there?" I thought. Surely, if people buy couches and find roommates, a fish tank or two will appear. And I was right! I finally found a picture of a gorgeous tank and since the person wanted the main form of communication to be via texting- I bit my lip and sent a question: 'Does the fish tank come with all the decorations as well?'

And so began a short conversation that ended with my saying I'd be picking it up in less than a week. The seller had even sent me a few more pictures of the tank and the decorations- which helped me to know it wasn't a picture they'd found somewhere, but something they actually owned. Elated, I got my roomie, Jessie, to agree to pick it up with me on a Thursday. (The seller said he was off on Thursday and I happened to be taking that day off as well to spend time with my new roomie before she began her first job the next week.)

The day of, found Jessie and I driving across the city to pay for and collect my tank. It wasn't until we reached the Walmart parking lot (I had mentioned that I didn't want to pick it up at his house) that I began to get nervous. This was a part of town that I did not know. Right before we turned into the lot, my phone rang with the name 'Fish Guy'. Jessie answered it for me since her voice doesn't sound like a little kid's *ahem* and told the guy we were at Walmart already. He told her he was on his way and she hung up. I began to ask questions: 'Was it a guy? I knew it! How old did he sound?' I may have even asked if he sounded dangerous...

Jessie and I both carry knives, but as mine is larger I had her take it and put it within easy grabbing distance should anything go wrong. Feeling a little better knowing the knife was ready, we parked near the garden center and began to look for a red Toyota- though what kind of Toyota I wasn't sure. Then my phone rang again- Jessie answered for me. He told her that they had just found a lost dog and he and his mom were waiting for the ASPCA to come pick it up. Could we just come to their place?* Warning bells were going off in my head and Jessie and I looked at each other for a split second before I said- 'Tell him never mind!' And turning on the car I headed for the highway. Jessie told him we were going to leave and he quickly said- that he would be there in 10 minutes or less...

I reeeaaallllllyyy wanted that tank, so I parked again after making sure Jessie was still up for waiting. As if we weren't already nervous, now Jessie and I sat in my car flinching whenever a red car came within sight and trying to act calm for each other. All kinds of thoughts were running through my mind: Do I want this fish tank that badly? What if something happens to Jessie- how could I ever forgive myself for putting her in this situation? I will stab the man if I have to.

Finally a beat-up old red Toyota truck pulled next to us. Unable to see the driver I asked Jessie if she had the knife ready before opening my door. Rounding the back of his truck I found a petite, young Hispanic boy. Already feeling much better knowing I could throw him if necessary, I gave a polite smile and we introduced ourselves. He was very pleasant, polite and respectful and began to show me the stuff I was about to buy. He realized at the last minute that he'd forgotten the plants, and I knew the mistake was genuine. He asked if I'd be willing to follow him to a bank near his place and this time we had no problem with that.

We waited while he ran and got them and came back with a girl (Jessie and I couldn't figure out if she was his girlfriend or sister). Turned out he had 6 fish tanks and was downsizing a little bit to get more money for college. We made our transaction with smiles and really...it wasn't so bad. A security guard at the bank came outside and stared us down while we made the transaction which made me feel half-safe and half-criminal.. Anyway, minus the previous 20 minutes of panic and 10 minutes of dread, Craig's List turned out to be a good idea for me this time. But it's still not something I want to use often... :)

Here's a few suggestions for you if you're going to shop on Craig's List:

1) A picture is worth a thousand words and 2-3 are even better. Ask for more pictures if there's only one on CL.

2) Try to pick a public area for CL transactions. A busy parking lot, a bank with a curious security guard...etc.

3) Take a ninja someone trustworthy with you if you must pick an item up from a home or apartment.

4) Be aware of your surroundings- look at a map before you go, unless you know the area well.

5) Be polite- even if they end up being rude, at least you've got no regrets.

6) It is ok to leave without buying the item, especially if it is not what you were expecting. One friend drove 40 minutes to pick up an item, hated it, but bought it anyway and found someone to give it to- don't feel obligated to do that. The person selling it will find another buyer.

7) While a knife isn't necessary, consider mace or a taser...just in case.

8) Enjoy the hunt- there are all kinds of steals and deals on CL!

*Saying that I found a lost pet or am looking for a lost pet are ranked right up there with offering candy to little kids. It may be true, but usually it's not. This is why we don't talk to strangers. This is why Craig's List can be very dangerous- because everyone is a stranger. Always have a buddy and a plan! (And maybe a knife...)

Mother's Day- Don't Forget!

I recently moved into a beautiful apartment with a college friend of mine. She and I have been unpacking and getting to know the area a little bit. A week ago we stopped by the library and got cards (they almost gave me the child's card) and then later in the week we found a good Asian place for takeout (priorities, people). 

I've learned how to deal with the school traffic and it's remarkable the difference 5 minutes makes. Also, Mondays are the worst.

I've also realized the importance of my Mom. Like a typical mother-daughter relationship, she and I didn't always communicate well. I have realized that I love her and respect her and that she's been a great role model in my life. I have no grandmothers anymore and none of my aunts have ever lived close enough to have deep relationships with me (though I love them dearly). That leaves my Mom as one of the sole role models in my life. True, there are some great women at church and from my college days that have helped to influence some of my choices and approaches to certain issues, but in the end I mostly reflect my Mom.

Did you know that Mother's Day is coming up? It is: May 12! While running errands yesterday I noticed a beautiful pink zinnia plant- huge and covered with blooms. Observing the price I decided: why not? After all- I love to give gifts and Mother's Day is soon! This of course inspired me to pick out a few other items I knew my Mom would like and use a basket to present them in. I'm delivering it early in the morning tomorrow on my way to work and am pretty excited to be catching her off guard with a VERY early Mother's Day gift. :) Unless she's staying up late after saying goodnight and reading this now...um, surprise Mom!

But I wanted to remind you, dear reader: remember your Moms! I had two different instances yesterday and today that made me want to weep and actually did make one of the ladies cry.

Mother 1) She works as a cashier at Walmart. An older lady. I don't know her history. When she checked out the plant I was buying she exclaimed over it's beauty and I couldn't help giving her a big smile and saying: "It's for my Mom! Mother's Day is coming soon!"

She looked suddenly wistful and said: "I wish my daughter would remember me..."

I was unsure where this conversation might lead, so I offered: "It's only easy because she lives in town." 

"My daughter lives on my property," she said, "but she's married this guy who doesn't believe in family ties." She went on for a few moments while I empathized and said it was "horrible" and that I was sure her daughter still loved her.

Inspired, I reached into my cart and picked one of the blooms off the zinnia plant and handed it to her.

"Oh no! Don't! You'll ruin your mother's plant!"

I was quick to reassure her and say with a smile, "She won't mind- and I can't stick it back on. Please take it!" And she began to cry. She bit her lip and sucked in a sob while trying to finish checking me out. Y'all- I was ready to go and smack some sense into her son-in-law and daughter. If they only knew how much that woman was hurting!! I talked her into taking the flower and left her with a small smile on her face and mutual God bless you's! I wish I'd gone around the cashier stand and given her a hug- I regret that.

Mother 2) Not as depressing. Just a random conversation with a lady and Mother's Day came up. She was very wistful and sad- hoping that she'll be remembered by her 3 kids.

SO- You have 10 days until Mother's Day. Have you got something planned? A card? A flower? A hug? Chocolates? A book or magazine? Dinner? 

Do something for your Mom! 

The 'cat' in Vacation

I consider myself a cat-lover, though I don't know if I'd ever like to have my own. (Kittens of course make me re-think this idea every once in awhile, but I've stood strong. I'm too afraid I'd become a "cat lady." That would be awful... plus litter boxes smell really really bad.)

 

This is about how a cat ruined my last night of vacation a month ago.

 

 

Time: 11pm

Place: My friends' house

Activity: Reading

Setting: The house is dark, minus the one little lamp I'm reading by- the other four occupants of the house have gone to sleep

Characters: Me and Sophie- the cat.

 

 

I had been reading for over an hour- I couldn't sleep even though I had an early breakfast meeting followed by a four hour road trip the next day. I was interrupted a couple of times by Sophie, the beautiful ragdoll cat, who was very happy to have a night owl in the house. She'd ignored me the first couple of days during my vacation and then we'd bonded that morning over a long piece of grass at the coffeetable. (I couldn't find any cat toys...) Apparently, that morning's experience had granted me access to her "best friends" list and I was now the very lucky recipient of her attention.

 

She was flighty that evening and pretended to watch things around the corner on the wall out of my line of sight. I smirked at her alertness and went back to my book- cats are trippy. She probably sees a moth, I thought.

 

 

Five minutes later my curiosity was aroused by the scratching sound on the wall. Peering around the corner I saw Sophie standing on her hind legs reaching up as high as she could on the wall. Bemused, I quietly asked her: "What's the matter Sophie?"

 

 

"Ma-oww!" she replied. She glanced at me and then began to insistently paw at the wall and meow even louder. "Ma-ow, mew, mrrow?"

 

 

"Hey now! You're going to wake the girls!" I quietly reproved her and THEN I looked up. The girls are lucky I'm not a screamer...

 

 

 

There at the top of the wall, in the corner was a giant roach. There are very few living creatures I dislike- roaches are one of them. Plus, I don't kill bugs. Can't stand the sound, feel, look, even thinking about it makes me gag and shiver. Usually I like most bugs, but not roaches...this was a large dilemma.

 

 

Well, Sophie will kill it if I bring it down to her, I thought. If only she hadn't pointed it out in the first place. Ignorance really was bliss.

 

 

To reach the roach, the closest things handy were a couple of Christmas tree branches. These had been cut from the girls' live tree and were lying on a dresser near the hallway. I wasn't sure if they were going to use them for decorating or not, but they were the perfect length for my purpose. That'll work, I told myself.

 

 

Very slowly I raised the branch toward the roach and gingerly guided it down the wall- toward Sophie who was sitting down and flicking her tail. She was satisfied that I was bringing her prey closer and stared intently. He was almost close enough when Sophie pounced on the wall and scared him back up a little ways.

 

 

"Stop it!!" I told her, barely containing my desire to flee: "Just wait another minute, ok? You will have to kill him because I won't! Sit. Stay." (Obviously I'm more used to talking to dogs...)

 

 

She sat back down and when I had him within her reach, pounced again. I can't watch, I thought, I'll go read my book now and let her finish the job. I hurried around the corner to the couch and tried to read another page in my book, hoping Sophie would eat the bug or drag it to some corner where I'd never have to see it again.

 

 

"Ma-ow! Ma-ow! Mrrrr-ow!" accompanied by scratching sounded from the hallway again. Peering around the corner I was dreading what I'd see. Sure enough there was Sophie, reaching for the ceiling. Her cries became more insistant when she saw me. (Honestly, I don't know how the roommates slept through the noise! ...It was about to get louder.)

 

 

"Ok, kit-kat, shush! Hang on." I assessed the situation. There was no more corner of the wall- now he was in the long part of the hallway. This meant the roach could travel further, faster. Not good.

 

 

Remembering the broom I'd seen in the house earlier that day I hurried through the dark unfamilar room and found it leaning against a chair. It's better than the tree branch and longer! I thought, this will keep the evil bug further away.

 

I decided to close the open bathroom door and flood the hall with light so the roach couldn't disappear. Hoping the light wouldn't disturb the sleeping roommates-especially my hostess, I raised the broom and glanced at Sophie who sat and practically purred in delight- she was about to hate me. Looking back up, I put the broom just above the roach to coax him down the wall as I'd done last time. Only this time he jumped onto the broom!

 

 

"Nooo!" I whispered frantically. "Get off! Get off!" He began to move down the broom handle like a disease-ridden robot. As he mounted the handle of the broommy panic escalated! I quickly lowered the broom to the floor (threw it)! The roach leaped from the broom to the hardwood floor and ran in my direction! All bets were off. The code of silence was broken. My feet and life were in danger!!

 

 

In a very muted way, this sound proceeded from my mouth: Ahhhh ah-AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

 

 

I turned to run, but was hindered by the cat! I began jumping from side to side to avoid the broom handle and the cat's tail. The cat, who was startled by the noise and my sudden movements, hurried to get away from me. The problem was, she had no traction on the wooden floor so she ran in place. Picture a girl trying not to step on a cat who is running in place for its life with a roach charging them both. I'm not sure how we managed to make it out of that hallway. She darted one way and I darted the other until I'd reached the safe distance of 10 feet or so. Then I turned to see where my little brown enemy was...

 

 

He had followed me around my corner instead of chasing the cat and was standing near the wall. Shuddering I considered my options and they weren't good. The cat had failed- Sophie was not going to kill the roach. It was up to me. Grimly I set my mouth and shuddered again. Fine. I could do this...right?

 

 

A cup! I needed a cup or a bowl...something disposable. Stumbling through the dark unknown house I found a light switch for the kitchen. Behind the second cabinet door I opened I found a cup- a single tiny disposable cup. Almost too small. Argh! Why me?! It wouldn't work if it were any smaller. Where are all the big cups? In a hurry, I grabbed the tiny cup and hurried back to the scene of the crime...where the enemy still waited. Part of me hoped he had disappeared so I wouldn't have to come near him and the other part didn't like the idea of not knowing where he was.

 

 

He hadn't moved. Sophie had moved near him and was studying him but when she saw me she darted around the corner! All I could see were her ears and her eyes which glared at me... "I'm sorry! If you had killed him, this wouldn't have happened. Scared-y cat." I felt better after hurling an insult at the feline. Slowly I inched towards the roach and got lucky trapping him under the cup within seconds. Good...now what?

 

 

Seeing the pile of mail nearby I grabbed a magazine and slid it under the lip of the cup so that I had complete control of the insect. Ok ok ok, I coached myself, now all I have to do is, um... open the front door and let him go? No! He could crawl out of the cup and up my arm!! (I could imagine exactly what those little creepy legs with their hooked feet would feel like on the back of my hand and worked to stay calm.) I could leave him for these girls. It is their house after all so technically he's their problem... No. That wouldn't be kind. I'll have to deal with this. The toilet will work! That's a good option. You are getting flushed, Bug! ...And I hope you don't come back. Please don't come back!

 

 

Sliding my hand under the magazine I lifted it and the cup and headed towards the bathroom. Sophie dashed out of my way- still glaring. I fumbled with the closed bathroom door and my very insecure roach prison for a minute. Sighing I glared at the cup and then at Sophie who was twitching her tail. "Don't even start with me- this is YOUR job. It's not like I scared you on purpose, you know." We didn't agree, she swished her tail and put back her ears. "Fine. I can handle it without you."


I managed to open the door. Turning on the light with my elbow I approached the pink toilet. (Yes...it was pink...so weird. I'd have been more weirded out if I hadn't grown up with my grandparents' purple toilet. But I digress...) Checking on my prisoner I made sure he was in the top of the cup before I placed it on the water.

 

 

Ok, now all he has to do is fall out of the cup, I'll lift it and flush...voila! But it didn't happen that way. The cup floated. I was a little amused...the stress was making me hysterical, I suppose. I wondered if the roach could swim out from under that? Probably. I reached to tap him out of the cup so I could grab it, but it fell sideways and filled halfway with water. My enemy had skills ninjas dream of...he was out of that cup and on top of it almost before I remembered to jerk my hand away! He stared at me while floating there and I stared, horrified, back at him. NOW WHAT?!

 

 

Then he began to swim. He circled the cup and then began to climb the toilet walls! The broom!! I need the broom!!! I dashed into the hallway and almost ran into Sophie (who, even though she was still mad at me, knew I had her 'toy' and she wanted to know what I was doing.) Sophie had another 'running in place' moment as she slid and skittered on the hardwood floors to get far away from me. Other than noticing her mad dash I was too focused on the broom to see her probable look of disdain.

 

 

I hurried back to the toilet and couldn't see the roach. NOOOOOO!!! If he got out...just no. After all that effort and panic?! It cannot happen. He must die! I bravely bent and looked further in the toilet bowl. There he was! Crawling towards the top...another few inches and he'd be free. 

 

 

But I can't flush it with the cup in there! I thought. Must get it out! I reached in and grabbed that floating cup faster than I've moved since I ran from the hornet's nest on the playground. Then I flushed that toilet. And flushed it again for good measure. I disposed of the cup, sanitized myself, put the broom back, turned off the kitchen light, and then went back and flushed the toilet at third time...just to be on the safe side.

 

 

Sophie still glared at me from the dark living room, but I ignored her look and returned to my book. I only had 25 pages left and I was NOT sleepy at the moment. Eventually Sophie decided to forgive me and approached for more chin scratching before I finished my book. I flushed that toilet once more before heading to bed that night. In my head I hummed "Ding dong! The roach is dead! Da-dum-dum-dum Da-dum-dum-dum. Ding dong! The wicked roach is dead!"

P.S. The other girls in the house never woke up or heard the battle.
P.P.S. Sophie didn't really ruin my last night of vacation, it was the roach...but I think we're even.

Thanksgiving Transitions

My Dad has asked my sisters and I to start coming up with ideas for Thanksgiving and family traditions. Since the baby of the family just turned 19, it may seem strange that we’re JUST NOW getting around to creating traditions for such a common holiday… Our former Thanksgivings were almost all spent at the family farm in the Ozarks (minus the few years we lived on islands and one or two others where the drive was longer than 9 hours- thank you Navy :)

Thanksgiving used to go like this:

The family would bundle into our minivan, later our suburban, and finally just take two cars and drive to northern Arkansas- a small town called Heber Springs. The tree leaves would have lost most of the radiant red and orange colors and be down to the yellows and browns. The air would be crisp and cool allowing sounds to seem sharper. I LOVED arriving late in the evening when it was dark because we had to drive down and around the mountain into the little town. There were twinkling lights and the car’s windows would be so cold that my breath would fog them up as I savored the view.

The little town is so full of memories because both of my parents had relatives that lived there. We’d stay with my Dad’s parents and spend Thanksgiving day at the farm with my Mom’s extended family.

When we were younger, we’d pile into my grandparents’ house with the long single hallway that connected the main living space to the den/office. Three bedrooms and a tiny bathroom opened up into that long hallway where my sisters and cousins and I played football, monkey in the middle, bowling, did puzzles, and generally got in the way of any adults trying to get anywhere. Occasionally we’d get to commandeer the tv and watch one of the 4 or 5 Disney movies my grandparents owned (my favorite was Bambi), but usually the menfolk watched football and the womenfolk would go shopping and antiquing, leaving us kids to fend for ourselves. We’d often get kicked outside to play where most of our games involved imagination because other than a tire-swing and the old boat by the fence, I don’t remember any toys. The nearby middle school track and playground were a great attraction and the pretty downtown park- but we usually needed an adult and a vehicle to get there.

Thursday morning would find us in front of the tv watching the Macy’s Day parade while Mom brushed and fixed all four of her daughters’ hair. Once we were sufficiently bundled, brushed and staticky, we’d pile into one vehicle, wave goodbye to my Dad’s relatives for the next 7-10 hours, and drive 15 minutes to the Holland Farm. Here anywhere from 85-120 cousins, aunts and uncles gathered to spend the day together. We’d arrive around 10-11am and immediately greet grandparents, before running to play. The Farm is HUGE. The kids would be scattered on the old bag swing, hanging on the fences looking at the cows and mule (and later horses), petting the dogs, watching the guinea fowl and chickens, climbing into the big red barn’s hayloft for some hay fights, poking at the tractors, tossing a football, catching up with cousins from the other side of the continent, walking around the old tennis court, searching through the empty small house used as a storage space, and daring each other to mess with the old white bull that hated the color blue instead of red…easy to do since most everyone was wearing bluejeans!

Once most of the relatives had arrived, the kids would be summoned from all points of the farm for the prayer and the meal. Thanksgiving was a time to be thankful and so Uncle Tommy and Aunt Mary (my Granny’s big brother and his wife) would start by mentioning family members that couldn’t join us or had passed away that year and then any new arrivals: spouses, babies, or even boy/girlfriends (how embarrassing for them!). Then someone would be asked to pray before we formed a line for the delicious potluck meal. I never paid enough attention to which family member brought which dish. Aunt Mary cooked all the rolls and kept them in a large cooler wrapped in dishtowels to keep them warm. There were several different sides and some that were almost similar but not quite so that you never had enough room on your durable Chinet paper plate. The tiny kitchen counter would be hidden under all the dishes which meant desserts had to go on a completely separate table at the window behind the little dining table (which was reserved for Uncle Tommy and his siblings and their spouses…and didn’t used to be big enough).

Most of the family would eat outdoors at long folding tables with metal folding chairs. The big front lawn had plenty of room and it rarely ever rained on Thanksgiving- only 1 or 2 times that I remember. Those years the tables were squeezed under the carport and we managed. :)

After the meal, the tables would be folded away and the men would have their annual football game (the old men vs. the young)! The women would sit in the folding chairs along the front of the house and cheer on their spouses and sons. The girls and any boys too young to play, would climb onto the roof of the storm cellar for a better view of the game. I rarely watched, because usually we’d saddle up Old Sally (the mule) and later our cousin’s horses during this time. I preferred to ride. One year I rode a particularly stubborn tall black horse. She decided that she wanted to go the opposite direction I was pointing her and tripped herself. When she started to stumble I thought: “Oh she’s fine” but that quickly changed to shock when she fell over on top of my leg. The stirrup kept my foot from being crushed, but my knee suffered some trauma and every once in a while when I’ve been running too hard or worn heels too long it flares up in pain. I spent the rest of that afternoon watching the men’s football game while icing it and the next day in the ER getting x-rays and a pair of crutches. :)

After the football game, the tractors are attached to the long trailers and hay bales are loaded onto the edges of the trailer to form seats. Many mothers have packed quilts and blankets that are brought out as padding and insulation from the chilly November evening. The family then piles on for the long ride around the farm. We go through many gates and the ride takes about an hour as we go through several of my uncle’s pastures which once were full of cattle but now are mostly tree farms. The cows follow us and eat the hay we throw to them. One year we grabbed my cousin’s hands just in time as the bale he was sitting on was ripped from the end of the trailer by a couple of very hungry cows! There are also deer quietly watching us through the trees and we cross some beautiful brooks. The Ozarks are just stunning.

We get back to the farm as the moon is rising and partake of our second or third helpings for the day before families slowly begin to depart for the evening. The fireplace and the outdoor fire pit are some of the most popular places for the adults while the kids grab some flashlights for fun variations of hide-and-seek or tag.

Eventually our parents bundle us up and take us back to our Dad’s parents' place where we are spoiled with hot cocoa and our parents try to keep any hay from making a mess- impossible, since their four little blonde daughters have been rolling in it, stuffing it down each other’s shirts, and sitting on it for the hay ride.

The following day includes more fun with the cousins, a trip to see the giant trumpet swans, and possibly fishing. The evening includes another get-together at my Mom’s cousin’s house where we have snacks, a light dinner, and play Catch Phrase, Pictionary, and Charades. Usually there’s a dog inside that doesn’t mind cuddling and a cat or two on the porch willing to accept a scratch or two behind the ears. The stairwell wall is covered in stuffed birds and animal heads.

I will miss those many years of tradition. Both my Dad’s parents are gone and that house with the long hallway has been sold. My Mom’s mom is gone and the farm isn’t the same without my precious Granny. The horses have gotten wild because the cousins are in high school and college and don’t have the time to ride them. The little kids are now the men playing football or the young women sharing secrets with their cousins as they walk around the farm. My cousins are too grown up to play and often sneak away to nap or make phone calls or chase down their own children. The babies I held just a few years ago are now kids wrestling in the hay loft, swinging on the old bag swing or chasing the chickens. But most different of all is the tiny graveyard that now exists halfway down the main pasture and down a straight lane between tall trees. There, surrounded by quiet, minus the tiny brook babbling nearby and the wind through the leaves of the trees, rests the body of my Granny. Her headstone is a giant Arkansas rock covered in lichen and moss with a bronze placard. This is a special place where only she, my Grandad, and my Uncle Tommy and Aunt Mary (the owners of the farm) will be buried. My Uncle had the place legally designated as a cemetery plot after the bones of Native Americans were discovered there. She is the first of the four to go. It’s bittersweet.

So now that my Dad has asked what I want to do for Thanksgiving and how we should create our own family traditions I have no idea. Thanksgiving this year will be the single day off in the middle of one of my best friend’s wedding preparations. Perhaps as the years progress it will not matter so much.

I think most importantly it will be nice to still get to spend the day with people I love and reflect on the many things I have to be grateful for! So…

What are some of your Thanksgiving traditions? Do you go somewhere, play something special, always eat a certain dish? I need ideas…