Tag Archives: George Perrine

Basketball kept my marriage together

basketballGeorge always took a week of vacation to watch the opening rounds  of the NCAA men’s basketball tournament.  He loved every second.  What could be better than watching basketball for hours and hours?  Even teams he did care about, if they were dancing, he watched.   All week.  Iona, Butler, Little Sisters of the Poor–he didn’t care if they were playing Florida or Louisville.  He just wanted to watch every moment.charlie tyra

For that reason and in honor of George, I’ve filled out my brackets.  I’m recording all games this week on four different channels PLUS the women’s games.   At the end of this week, he’d hope that University of Louisville would go on to the sweet sixteen because, Houston v Louisvilleas much as he loved basketball in general, he loved Louisville most.  He’d bring up Charley Tyra  (in picture on right) or Butch Beard or Wes Unseld or Junior Bridgeman and tell incredible stories of positioning and rebounding.

I heard the same stories every year.  I know them well.  Thoughts of the rebounding prowess of Tyra always reminds me that spring has arrived.

These weeks go so fast.  In no time, we’ll be down to the final four–then basketball will be over with nothing to look ahead to but college football.basketball in heaven 2

During these days, I think of George.  Ihope he’s dropped his feet over the edge of heaven so he can get a good view in Dallas or wherever any team is playing.   Eternal basketball would be part of George’s idea of heaven.     And–this makes me smile and cry at the same time–I think of George settling down with his Kindle and his chewing gun and a short rope of red licorice to cheer for his Cardinals.  He’s wearing his favorite UofL shirts, easy to find inside the pearly gates.  Then the game starts and I can almost hear him shout,   “C-A-R-D-S”.

 

A friend remembers George

Carol Sue Barnett is the sister of George’s long-time friend Wayne.  Here she shares her thoughts about George, Wayne, and their friendship.  That’s a young Wayne Barnett to the left.

Jane is correct that my older brother Wayne Barnett is a fine man, but I’d like to add that his friendship with George immeasurably contributed to Wayne’s accomplishments, as a student and as a minister.

Our parents raised us in the church, as they had been raised. On both sides, church had been an integral part of family life for generations. They were Disciples, Baptists, Methodists, and Presbyterians, but few lacked any church affiliation. Our Grandfather Barnett’s maternal grandfather had been an itinerant Baptist preacher. Upon Granddaddy Barnett’s parents’ marriage in 1859, his mother adopted his father’s church and became a Disciple (Christian Church, Disciples of Christ), the church in which we were raised.

To my knowledge, Wayne is the family’s first formally trained and ordained minister. (Our younger sister Sally Barnett McClain is the second.) I remember well Wayne’s teenaged announcement that when he grew up he wanted to be either a test pilot or a minister. This didn’t make much sense then, but now it does: both professions are all consuming and life threatening. Wayne’s myopia precluded his first choice. But his vision was sufficiently far-sighted for the ministry.

And that’s where George comes in. Wayne, not an exceptional student in high school—he was popular and busy with social activities, and he put in long hours on the family farm—has always credited George with teaching him to study. Once Wayne started spending hours each day with George, away from the farm’s demands, his analytical processes matured, and his grades improved.

But, even more important to his chosen profession, Wayne, through caring for George, learned attentiveness and compassion, essential qualifications for a minister’s calling, and they both approached Wayne’s job of getting George around and through his day with two other essential qualifications—good humor and determination. This was poignantly evident in LaDonna and Wayne’s marriage ceremony, at which George officiated. Upon being asked, George demurred, saying he had never before performed a marriage ceremony and that they should choose a minister who wasn’t disabled. LaDonna and Wayne countered that they hadn’t been married before, and that George should be their minister for that milestone. Faced with this challenge, George met it, courageously and eloquently, as he met all that came his way after his accident.

Accompanying our mother, I attended Wayne’s retirement service and celebration in September 2007 at the First Christian Church of Maysville, Kentucky. George and Jane, living in Texas, couldn’t attend, but they were present.  By his constant example, both in school and throughout their careers, George had helped teach Wayne to minister and to enjoy a loving relationship with his congregation and the community he served. On behalf of our family, I offer our gratitude.

The Draft Phase by The Husband

A guest blogger joins us today: my husband George.  He’s here to share the highs and lows of living with a writer.    He may exaggerate a little.

My favorite author and dearly beloved wife of 46 years announced yesterday, “I finished the book,” I knew several things.  One, she is still nowhere near her deadline; Jane is a twit who used to do her homework on Friday afternoon.  Two, she is entering the Draft Phase (it could be called Rewrite Time) during which she will do four (or more) complete rewrites of said book.  And three, I’m going to see a lot more of her for a while.

Five years ago we retired to a three bedroom, two bath apartment, and you would think we would see a lot of each other.  But we communicate largely through email and intercom from my study to hers because this is really a one bedroom, two study, two bath apartment.  In Draft Phase, however, Jane will use the Editing Chair, and it is in the living room so I will have to actually see her physical presence from time to time.

The Editing Chair. Jane has lower back problems (Duh! She’s a writer!) But she is also horribly cheap, after years of her pain I convinced her that a good chair, although expensive, would be worth it. And we bought a Scandinavian objet d’art that is the most comfortable thing ever sat upon and has table attached which holds the draft copy at a perfect height.  With its ottoman and its kitty furniture and red pen table next to it, this whole configuration occupies most of one end of our living room.

Her Cheapness also allowed me to buy her a laser printer a few years ago because it prints so quickly, but I know she still uses the ink-jet printer because she believes it is cheaper.  And she will run a complete draft of the book, three-hole punch it, and place it in a binder.  The electric hole puncher keeps me out of the loop at this point.  This used to be my odious duty because Jane insists on reusing her paper for different drafts and it was really really hard to keep the drafts straight.

So picture the great author: in her nightie, feet up on the ottoman, back comfortable in her big chair, cat on its stand providing a Muse, binder on the table, red pen in hand—she’s editing up a storm as long as she doesn’t have to go potty.  It’s nearly impossible to get out of that chair!

Ollie’s Ninety-fourth Birthday

Book Reporter–a great site for finding books to read–asked me to submit a blog for Mother’s Day.   I immediately thought of my mother-in-law Ollie Perrine, the mother I inherited by marrying George.    Here’s the link to that blog  http://www.bookreporter.com/blog/2012/04/26/her-name-was-ollie-memories-of-my-mother-in-law

George just sent me pictures of Ollie on her 94th birthday at church, a celebration lovingly set up  by her prayer group.  

 I’m blessed to be a Perrine.