Yellow Zinnias

   I am so busy these days with teaching and all those "other duties as assigned," sitting on the board of directors for our nonprofit, raising money for our scholarship program,  an active member of the United Daughters of the Confederacy,  as well as, being a wife, mother, grandmother and daughter.  Whew! That made me tired just listing those things.  I wish I had time to be a better friend.  I have a dear friend and neighbor that is going through some health issues and has had to make some major life changes.  She is so good to me.  She has a sixth sense for when I am "down" and brings me little gifts - as another friend put it, "gifts from the heart." 

   Recently she called me and said that she had "a bushel and a peck" of peaches for me.  She knows how important that phrase is to me.  That is how my son, Ryan, would "sign off" our conversations.  Whether it was a letter, e-mail, phone call, or face to face parting, he would say, "I love you a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck."  But...back to the peaches.  When I got to her home there was a bushel box and peck sized basket of peaches.  It was a week that had been "hotter than blazes" but she had gone to her family's orchard and picked those peaches for me.  I gladly brought them home, made several jars of preserves and froze the rest.  Most mornings I make a smoothie for breakfast and when I make them from those peaches it always brings a smile to my face.  It's human nature to want to know that someone, not related by blood, cares about us.

   One evening this week my phone rang and it was Karen.  She said, "Have you already passed my house?"  I told her that I was already home and making dinner.  She said that she had something for me and would be over in just a few minutes.  When she and her daughter, Hannah, arrived at my home they had brought me a potted zinnia, two cut yellow zinnia blossoms, and a book by  former UALR professor,  Al Allen.  The book is titled "Zinnias Grow on Either Side of the River." 

   I have always loved zinnias; their bright colors and cheerful presence are spirit lifting. My Granny Ott planted them each year and I, myself, have planted them.  But, admittedly, I hadn't really given them much thought.  I asked Karen how she pronounced their name and she said, "Zee nuhs."  I told her that I had heard it pronounced as "Zen eee uhs" and the "hill folk" pronunciation (which I speak fluently)  "zee knees."  I was touched by her gifts and since I'm of such a curious nature (one of my high school teachers instilled in me to always look for the deeper meaning), I decided to research zinnias.  I found that each color of zinnia has a meaning and that yellow zinnias means daily remembrance.  I wonder if Karen knows this or does she just like yellow?  I don't believe in coincidence but I do believe that we are motivated to do things for others by a much higher power.    

   I couldn't wait to read the book.  It turned out to be a collection of true short stories from Al Allen's life.  He was born in Steele, MO later moved to Memphis but spent his summers in Steele.  His father was a car dealer in Steele and his other family members raised cotton. Again, I don't believe in coincidence, only the actions of a power greater than us, but my husband's sister lives in Steel, MO and she and her husband own the local car dealership, as well as, a large cotton farm.  Another connection - I earned my Bachelor's degree from the University of Arkansas School for Medical Science at Little Rock but I took classes and earned my teaching certificate from UALR, where Al Allen was a professor. 

   I pondered all these connections as I was reading the book.  And then I found it - on page 154.  Al is telling the story about how he had asked his Aunt Myrna why everyone planted zinnias around their houses. This is her reply," Well, you can count on zinnias to always grow well, even when the weather is bad and dry, 'cause they are a very hardy flower.   Zinnias ask for so little and give you all the brilliant colors. They're like good dependable friends;  when things go bad and crops burn up and people are sick of summer heat, zinnias are always there to cheer you up."   There it was! They are like good dependable friends - always there to cheer you up.  That's my relationship with Karen.

   I hope all of you have a "zinnia" friend in your life.  We all need them and I'm so blessed and grateful to have one.

  

  

The Ox is in the Ditch

Mary Ann (Molly) Brantley, Minda Maxey, Beulah Tunstall, Nettie Ott Medley, Wayne Kastning

Granny Ott, Aunt Ann Morrow, my brother, Bruce and me.

    I didn't even realize that today was Grandparents' Day until I read it on my Facebook news feed.  You see, I've been extremely busy with school and I have been working in my classroom most of the day.  I know that today is Sunday but as my Granny Ott would say, "The ox is in the ditch."  If you don't know or remember this verse, it is Luke 14, 5-6. 

   Growing up in the Ozarks kids  typically spent a lot of time with their grannies.  Many  young couples, like my parents, moved into the home with the widowed mother.   We were surrounded by a lot of "granny women."  My Granny Ott, of course, lived with us and our neighbor, "Aunt Ann Morrow" was often at our home.  My Great-Granny, Molly Brantley, who raised my mom, would come and stay with us for several days at a time.  Other granny women, including my Great Aunt Nettie Medley, and my Great-great Aunt Mindy Maxey were very much a part of our lives.  The grannies would get together to can, quilt, mend and just visit.  The kids were always playing near the grannies so even though it wasn't a conscious thing,  all Ozarks kids were influenced by the granny women.  Every story they told had a moral.  I'm pretty sure that the episodes of Andy of Mayberry and the Andy Griffith Show were all written by granny women because they all had a moral to the story.

   These women were our role models.  They were strong - they had lived hard lives.   Many, as my Granny Ott, widowed at a young age had to endure the depression and the dust bowl.  They sent their sons off to war.  The plowed the fields and harvested the crops.  They milked the cows and butchered the hogs. Yes, they were strong.  But, they were also tender.  They could calm a scared child, gently "doctor" a skinned knee or a cut finger.  You knew the granny women loved you.  They taught us right from wrong and how to be polite and respectful.  The lessons we learned sitting at their feet, while they shelled peas or peeled peaches, were invaluable.

   So, I say to all the granny women in Heaven,  who helped to shape and mold me into the person that I am today:  Thank you for all of your wisdom, your gentle spirits and your guidance.

 

♫Thank you for being a friend♫

   One of my friends gave me this Bravlet at my son, Ryan's, funeral.  I put it on that day and it has been on my wrist for at least some of each day since.  It's getting a little tarnished and loose around my wrist, but I continue to put it on every day.  I don't wear it because it says "be brave."  I wear it because it reminds me of that friend - that she cared enough about me to give me that bracelet.

    I've had a lot of reflection about friendship over this past year.  I have learned that you can have friends that you haven't seen in years but when you needed their strength and support, they were there.  I have a childhood friend that I haven't seen since May, 1973 but we have become reacquainted through Facebook over the past several years.  I was deeply touched when I opened a sympathy card from her and found a check and a book of stamps.  She knew that I would not feel like going to the post office to buy stamps for thank you cards.  That kind, sweet gesture brought tears to my eyes on that day.  One of my friends, who lives down the road, came immediately to my home when she heard of my loss. She knew that my computer had recently "fried" and she brought her laptop and MiFi box.  She knew that I needed to write an obituary and scan pictures for the service.  Later she bought me an infinity scarf that is the color of a red fox. She knew that Ryan loved foxes and she wanted me to have something I could wear and touch that reminded me of that.  Shortly after Ryan's funeral I opened my mailbox to find a package from a friend that I haven't seen in a long time, but we interact on Facebook.  I opened the package to find a Willow Tree "boy" angel and a long hand written, heart-felt letter. She has suffered a painful loss in her life and she understood my pain and grief. 

   My dearest childhood friend, who lives in Oklahoma, called me and just let me sob in the phone.  She didn't try to tell me that everything would be ok or that "time would heal my wounds."  She just held the phone and let me sob.  I knew she was there for me and that I could call her and sob into the phone anytime that I needed to.

   I have another friend , who is a former colleague, that has never stopped calling and texting to check on me.  She has left countless voicemails and texts that simply say, "I'm thinking of you."  Another friend and colleague, who also lost her son, has graded my papers, made my lesson plans, and done hours of school work for me because I wasn't able to.

   There are so many friends that went out of their way, interrupted their busy lives to be there for me.  When you are going through a heartbreaking loss, you find out just how kind and generous your friends are.  I could not have made it through the darkest days of my life had it not been for my friends.

   Through this grieving process, I have made new friends.  Many of Ryan's friends have become my friends too.  His loss hurt so many people and they have reached out to me in their time of grief. I also made a new friend who has become a pillar of strength for me, as well as a confidante.  A few weeks after Ryan's death, I received a letter from a lady that I didn't know.  It was several pages and handwritten.  The lady told me the story of the loss of her husband and step-son and how it had changed her life.  A few months later, this lady, became my grief counselor and I have been able to share with her things that I have not felt comfortable sharing with anyone else. 

   I hope that I can be a good friend to anyone who needs my friendship and support.  I feel such a debt of gratitude to those who have helped me get through my grief.  For now I would just like to say,  ♫Thank you for being a friend. ♫