Category Archives: Celebrating

My parents didn’t teach me to hate. Thank you!

Celebrating, Family, Musings, , , , , , , ,

My parents didn’t teach me to hate

I look back over the years and realize what an amazing statement this is:  my parents didn’t teach me to hate.   Never once did I hear a word against any group or people, religion or race.   I didn’t grow up with the burden of prejudice.  I didn’t have to unlearn the lessons of racism.

You may not think this statement makes my folk sound special.  I hope your parents did the same.

What makes this fact  remarkable is that my father was born in 1904 and my mother, in 1907, hardly years of openness and acceptance of others.   I was born in the 1940’s and grew up in a world filled with bigotry and hatred, in a world of separate restrooms and in a city where the public swimming pool was closed because white people didn’t want to swim with black people.   Because of the way my parents raised me, I didn’t understand why anyone would object to this.    Thanks, Mom and Dad.  

I thought of this again about a week ago when I watched a PBS program about Oscar Hammerstein.  He was a man born in 1895, a man ahead of his time, a writer who asked questions and forced discussion on many issues, especially of race and prejudice, in the lyrics of his marvelous musicals.

In 1949, Hammerstein wrote South Pacific.   I was born in Kansas City, MO, a little off Broadway, but wonderful touring companies came through.  I saw South Pacific in the theater when I was eight.   After the show was over, I asked my mother about the song You’ve Got to Be Carefully Taught.   She told me that some parents teach their children to hate other people, people who are different.  I asked her why.  She couldn’t explain.  Neither can I.

In Showboat written in 1927, Hammerstein  dealt with misogyny.  Julie, who had “black blood”,  was married to a white man, a union which was against the law.  I saw this movie when I was nine and couldn’t understand why two adults who love each other couldn’t marry.  I still don’t.

My parents raised me in church and taught me that the Gospel means acceptance and love for all,  no exceptions.  

Thanks, Mom and Dad.  

 

A little late blogging today

Celebrating, Musings, Stuff, , , , , ,

I woke up this morning and realized this is Tuesday, my day to blog and I had nothing!  

There is a good reason.  I bought a new car.   By new car, I mean new to me.  

Twelve years ago, George bought me a brand new yellow Ford Focus.  I love cars in bright colors both because they make me happy and because I can find them easily in a parking lot.  It worked wonderfully.  Never had to spend money except for oil changes and new tires.

Until two years ago.  My battery kept running down.  I had to have it jumped every three or four months and bought four new batteries.  At the same time, when I got into the car and before I put the key in the ignition, the radio would come on.  I believed the radio was draining the battery so set an appointment with the radio specialist at the dealership to check it.   He said (I paraphrase here), “Lady, you’re nuts.  There’s nothing wrong,” because—in my experience–mechanics never listen to women.  I could go on and on about this but I won’t in this blog.

And yet, the radio kept turning on and the battery kept running down.  I had the radio removed.   Didn’t change things and still no one could find a reason for this.  Yes, I know it was a short in the electrical system but, “Lady, there’s nothing wrong with your car,” but they couldn’t explain  the new batteries.  I had to keep AAA on speed dial.

I’m on deadline:  October 1 for The Wedding Planners of Butternut Creek.  When the car wouldn’t start last Wednesday, I had it jumped and drove it for thirty minutes, I thought the charge would last three or four months and I’d have plenty of time to look for a new car after October 1 because it was obvious I need a car that starts without the aid of jumper cables.

But the charge didn’t last.  Saturday morning, the battery was dead again. 

Monday, we bought a new (to me) car, pictured above.  It’s a 2008 Mazda 3 and is so pretty and clean but it’s white!   In the picture my dear husband took, my Power Cat (the logo of  my Alma Mater, Kansas State University) shows up beautifully against the white.

But the car is white and I won’t be able to find it in the parking lot.  My plan is to do something on the roof of the car to identify it.  I’m thinking a purple stripe to match the Power Cat.  I should be able to pick that out in a parking lot.

I am open to suggestion.  What do you think would brighten up and make my new car easier to identify?

 

 

Kris Fletcher sold a book

Celebrating

Kris Fletcher and I have been friends from back when she was Chris Fletcher, adopting children from all over the world, and winning every contest for unpublished romance writers.  We were together on a great AOL board for RWA contests.   While we were there, Dorien Kelley sold, Cathy Mann sold, Missy Tippen sold, and I sold but Kris, who is so incredibly clever and talented didn’t.   She did find an agent who believed in her: Hurrah!   She wrote wonderful books that didn’t find homes UNTIL YESTERDAY!!!!   Second Chance Summer sold to Super!!!   I know this book as Never Trust a Man with His Hand in Your Bra.  Kris reminds me the title was Never Trust a Man with Your Bra in His Hand.  Whichever, it’s all good because we finally get to read Kris’ book!

And I’m so happy! Dancing like Charley Brown and Snoopy!

Kris had very few photos of herself around.  I could have chosen a picture of Miss Piggy to represent her (as she has on Facebook) or Queen Elizabeth II because Kris is Canadian.  Instead, I used a maple leaf.