Linda

Linda Jean Dingman Riggan
March 30, 1949 - September 12, 2014

     Those of you who have read my stories will probably agree that I am a romantic in my writings and may even go so far as to call me a sentimental romantic, you would be correct either way. I have always wanted to inject my feelings into the stories so the reader would know that I cared about the people I write about. I loved Linda for many years and it is not a feeling I will give up easily and I want everyone to know. I have tried several times over the last few weeks to tell Linda's story. I have written many paragraphs about how we met, lived and loved each other. Three or four times I have sat down to write only to reach a stopping point and returning later to erase the words because they wouldn't say what I felt in my heart. Hopefully these words will find their way to the end.
      I can't tell you the specific date that we first met, I can't tell you when we went out on our first date or the first kiss or even the date of the night I asked her to marry me. What I can say is that Linda was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen and she hung on every word I said. I can't say it was love at first sight because I don't think you can fall in love that quickly, we were just a couple of teenagers trying to find our way in life. I am just thankful that we chose the same path, I am thankful Linda let me love her.
     I can tell you Linda cared about people and saw beauty in her surroundings. She had a special fondness for children and animals. She enjoyed creating beautiful things as evidenced by the care she took creating her crafts, each item she made was perfect in every detail even though it may have gone to complete strangers who would never know her. She fussed over little details like a lone weed in the lawn or a flower that didn't get enough sunlight or a thread not pulled tight enough. When I worked on a woodworking project I would call for her to look at it and give me her opinion of the design or the completed project, I often told her of a flaw that had to be fixed and she would say it was so minute that only I would know of it's existence and not worry about it. I would repair the flaw and now know that I was trying to meet her standards of beauty. Sadly I had started some of my best work shortly before her health deteriorated and I had to put the work on hold so I could devote my time to her, though she saw the finished design she will never see the completed coffee and end tables I made for her.
     One of the first things I did when we bought this house was to build her a covered deck. The warm days of  fall, winter and springtime or the cool mornings of the hot summer would find her there talking to her sister Eileen or Clay on the phone. Her laughter was at times loud and could be heard from inside the house but it was sincere and infectious. She would sit on the deck crocheting baby blankets for babies who would never know how much care and attention went into them and occasionally look up to watch the Hummingbirds fight over the feeders she kept filled or the Blue birds as they carried food to their young in the houses I built for her. Sometimes I joined her, we would talk and I would be infected with her love of life as she saw it, certainly it was a more beautiful world because she was in it.
      Growing up I never heard the word love spoken, Linda was the first person, I can recall, to tell me she loved me so thru out our life together I made a habit of several times every day telling her how much I loved her. I would walk up and give her a hug or a kiss and tell her how much I loved her, she in turn would profess her love for me. When she would have a bout of depression, I would hold her tight, talk to her slowly pulling her back to me, I would tell her over and over that I loved her, I kissed away the tears of her depression and promised to take care of her and love her forever.
     When we went somewhere I would reach over and take her hand and hold it as I drove, her skin was soft and soothing to the touch, I still reach out for her but find only the course fabric of the cushion. When we walked around a store or thru a street fair she would let me hold her hand, I always wanted her by my side so everyone would know we were together. When people would ask how long we had been married I would proudly tell them. I can't say we were the perfect couple as we, like many people, had our occasional issues but we had learned long ago that we could talk to each other without arguments or shouting or belittling. We talked of many things, truly talked, and I am already missing those talks, her ideas and opinions meant the world to me. I desperately want to talk to her now.
       Her friend Diane recently wrote to me and told me that Linda had once told her of when we first met, she told Diane that I was so good looking that I could have had any girl I wanted yet I wanted her and she didn't know why. Little did she know that I felt the same way about her, she was so beautiful. She never thought herself as beautiful but I think when you look at her picture above and read these words you can understand why I wanted her. The ravages of time and age took it's toll on Linda as it often does to most of us but it never destroyed her inner beauty and when I looked into her eyes it was not the age spots or few strands of grey in her thinning hair that I saw, I could only see the seventeen year old beauty that let me love her.
     The day before Linda died she was semi conscious, I was out of the room during one of her more vivid moments when Maggie, Clays girl friend, came to get me, Linda was calling for me. I sat down by the bed and told her I was here, her heart was racing, her breathing was rapid, her last words were to me. " I love you, I love you "she said and soon after she drifted into a coma, I would give anything to hear those words from her lips now.
     The morning after Linda had passed away I went into the garage and sat in a lawn chair, I stared out at the western sky, it was as clear and blue as her eyes. The song birds she so dearly loved were flying around singing their melodies, the squirrels that made her laugh made their way across the lawn and scampered up the trees, the air was peaceful and quiet. The reality that I would never again hear Linda call to me weighed heavy on my heart. Until now I had been strong for Linda but she was no longer here so I hung my head and cried as I had never cried before. This will be the first of many heart wrenching cries that I will have over the next few days and weeks, there will also be moments of pain where I was able to choke back the sobs but the tears still trickled down my cheeks. Even now these many weeks later as I write these words I have to stop and wipe the tears from my eyes. I wonder will the pain ever go away, will the memory induced tears ever stop flowing, I wonder, do I really want them to. I miss her so much.
     Soon after the hospital bed and equipment were removed from the bedroom I vacuumed and shampooed the carpet, I reassembled the bed with clean sheets and a quilt Linda had made. Lizzy will hop up on the bed and lay there as she often did with Linda but I haven't been able to bring myself to touch it. To sleep on our bed and not feel Linda's arm around me as she snuggled up to me is to painful so I sleep on the couch. The phone recorder still has her voice greeting the caller, to erase it now seems so final besides listening to her voice fills an emptiness in my heart.
     Friends and neighbors will ask me how am I doing, after composing myself my eyes will water and I look away and tell them " oh, I'm OK, I have good days and bad days but I'm OK ". I can handle the daytime, I can keep busy with something to occupy my mind but when the darkness comes and the house is quiet I listen for her voice and can't hear it. You see Linda was never quiet no matter what task she had at hand, if she wasn't talking to me or someone else she was singing a song. She had a beautiful voice that was never mellowed by age and she knew the words to many songs both old and new. I can't believe there were times when I wished she would be quiet. The nighttime was when we would talk about various things, it was when we made plans for tomorrow or next year. Now it's the nighttime I dread the most, the silence is overwhelming. Now I awake in the morning and think about what I should do today, making it thru the day without tearing up is a good starting point.
     With Linda by my side I never worried about the future knowing that she would be next to me to make it brighter, now I have to look at a calendar just to figure out what day it is. When someone wants me to do something on a certain day I tell them to remind me because I don't plan beyond the moment.
     Everyone tells me it takes time to heal the pain and after a time the fond memories will hurt less, Right now I can't believe there is that much time in all of eternity.
     The title to my blog is Holding On To The Past, I feel that the past is all that I have now. If I could I would go back to 1967 just to see her smile and hear her laughter. If I could I would go back to just a month ago and hold her in my arms one more time, kiss her and tell her how much I love her. Linda was many things to many people, to me she was my wife, lover, confidant and best friend, she was and always will be the love of my life. I miss her terribly, I love her still and always will.
     I love you Linda.

                                                    -----------------------------------

     It has been over eight years since Linda passed away, I still mourn for her and guess that I always will. There are times when something will trigger a memory that brings her back to me in clarity and that memory will in turn produce tears or smiles. I still miss her and love her.

    

   
   

Teaching An Old Dog New Tricks

  


           Teaching An Old Dog New Tricks


     Over the last few months it became more and more evident that the time Linda had left was getting shorter by the day. She was worried about me and suggested that I start looking around for a new wife as I would need someone to look after me, after all she had been doing just that for forty seven years and she had doubts that I could pick up the slack. All those many years ago she told me my job was to go to work, cut the grass, paint and keep the house in good repair she would take care of the cooking and housework.
      She continued to do as much as she could with the strength she had left but it soon became apparent that little everyday things drained her of her energy. First it was the vacuuming, not a job that anybody looked forward to doing but if you have a dog and don't vacuum then you are quickly up to your eyeballs in dog hair, loose grass, leaves and dirt that was tracked in and the combined aroma of those things can get to be a little overwhelming. Vacuuming was a no brainer just plug it in turn it on and go back and forth over the floor - got it.
     Housekeeping in general is turning out to be a little more problematic. Chasing dust bunnies around the floor is one thing but having to chase them off the furniture, walls and TV screen is another. I now know why they are called dust bunnies for as quickly as you swiffer them away a new generation pops up and starts to multiply. It is a never ending process.
     Shopping presents a horse of a different color. There are four different grocery stores plus Walmart within an eight mile radius of our house. Linda would look at all of the newspaper and online adds each week to determine what she would buy from whom and search the newspaper for coupons. One store would have the best overall prices and would get the bulk of our business, another had the best meats, another doubled the coupons on Wednesday and they all had sales items the others didn't have. Linda would spend two or three days each week on grocery shopping. Once you get to the store you've got to find what you are looking for and it seems that it is never in the same place twice. I found out that there are several brands of the foodstuff and they are all different prices, math was never my strong suit and I probably look pretty silly standing in the aisle starring at the rows of cans, jars and boxes as I try to figure out the best buy, Linda could instantly spot the best deal and quote the savings.
     Common sense told me that it was a waste of time and money to go from store to store in order to save a dime especially with the price of gas being what it is so I decided to to do all of my shopping at the nearest store with occasional side trips to Walmart as they have the brand of grape kool-aid that I like and a fairly good assortment of fishing lures. I do consider myself a savvy price conscious shopper, in other words I buy on the cheap side and purchase stores brands whenever possible but if that lesser brand has no taste I will move up to a more palatable product - if it makes your lips pucker or throat constrict it is not worth the savings. If something is on sale three for two dollars why not buy three, think of the time saved trying to figure out the individual unit price besides I'll eventually eat all three.
     Grocery shopping was not all that difficult but I am having trouble on the planning stage even though I do make a list and stick to it. The problem seems to be planning ahead and knowing what you need, how am I supposed to know what I will be hungry for next Thursday, got to work on that part.
     Laundry, this is not the first time I have done laundry, as a young boy I often helped Mom wash clothes on an old wringer washer, hang them on an outdoor clothes line in weather so cold that the clothes froze before they dried then fold and iron them. My first two years in the Navy I had to take care of my own clothes, Mom wasn't around to do it for me, Linda did take over this chore once we were married. Laundry so far has been a piece of cake and may be the easiest bit of housework yet, I mean all I have to do is load up the washer with dirty clothes and detergent then turn it own and go watch a little TV. When the washer quits throw everything into the dryer with one of those dryer sheets that always seem to turn up in the most inconvenient places days later and watch more TV. I have found that there is no need to be concerned about the various settings on the machines as every thing I own is so old that there is no need to worry about the colors running or the material shrinking - don't have enough whites to make a load go ahead and fill it up with some colored shirts, jeans or a bath towel or two.
     Now cooking is another of those things that Mom taught me to do. By the time I left home I could make toast and mash potatoes, iced tea and fry a hamburger. These skills I passed along to Linda when we first married, her mother was not a good cook so that skill was never passed down to her. When I went to Vietnam Linda stayed with my family and Mom taught her most everything she knew about cooking and Linda became quite adept and over the years expanded her culinary skills. She was also very inventive like when we were first married she wanted me to go out and fight the dragons of life with a good breakfast. Eggs were never high on my list of breakfast foods so she substituted with the next best thing - pancakes. The recipe she used called for milk in the mixing of the batter but one morning she went to the frig and there was no milk and no neighbor to borrow a cup from. What we did have was ice cream or to be specific ice milk that after a little thawing worked very well except there was just one tiny little problem, the ice milk we had was strawberry flavored and the pancakes turned out pink in color - not a good color when waking up with a hangover. I suffered but had to admit they were just as tasty.
     After all these years I have to start cooking again and find that this is one bicycle I am not going to just climb back on very quickly. Forty-seven years ago we didn't have microwaves or quick fully cooked easy to prepare instant meals but thank God for Campbells soup - I won't starve.
     There are however several tasty dishes that Linda cooked that are my favorites and I had her spend an afternoon showing me how to cook them.
      The first is cube steak. Dad used to cook cube steak which is just a round steak ( the toughest steak there is ) run thru a tenderizer, he would pan fry them to the point that they bounce across the floor like an old dried out cow paddy and they were just as hard to chew. Linda on the other hand cooked the cube steaks in the crock pot all day with mushrooms, mushroom soup, carrots and onions - they were tender and delicious. She would cook enough at one time that I could make several meals, add a helping of mashed potatoes and Navy beans and corn bread and you had Southerner cooking at it's finest. I don't eat the onions but I do like the flavor they add. My first preparation of this meal was a success and I am off to a good start.
     Next came the meatloaf. You will note that I am a meat and potatoes type of guy, after all  I am a butchers son. Linda's recipe calls for a pound and a half of ground chuck but she usually buys two to three pounds uses half for the meatloaf and the rest she makes into pre-cooked hamburgers which she stored in the frig until ready to eat. The first time I made meatloaf Linda had taken a turn for the worse and I didn't have time to make the burgers, wound up tossing half of the ground beef. the next time I made it was after she passed and I wound up making a three pound meatloaf that fed about seven people plus some leftovers for later. Nobody complained and even sister Vicki ate leftovers, still I think the next time I will add a little onion for a tad bit more flavor. At least this time I didn't throw out half of the ground chuck.
     Her chili recipe is equally delicious and allows for the making of several batches to be made at one time. After cooking the meat and peppers you place the ingredients into containers and freeze them, later you thaw out a container add chili beans and there you have several meals. I still have several containers in the freezer for later consumption.
     Now we get to the really good stuff - cookies and cakes - specifically peanut butter chocolate chip cake and the breakfast of champions chocolate chips cookies ( they are also a great snack food any time of the day or night ). I must say I have had a few problems in this area but I am working on the third time around so I hope my troubles are over. I must preface this by saying that Linda's recipes were not what I call all inclusive as there were little things that any good cook would automatically know to do but a novice like me would wind up with a mess on his hands. I was at least sharp enough to sit down with Linda and rewrite the recipe to where I could understand it and the finished product would not be wasted - so I thought.
     My first stab at the cake went pretty well, it looked like what Linda cooked, it even tasted like Linda's cake and everyone liked it. My son Clay even took half of it home with him. Still after all was said and done there was something that was gnawing at me and being the meticulous person I am I got to the bottom of the issue. It appears that when translating the recipe to better understand the steps either Linda forgot to tell me or I forgot to write down a key ingredient - eggs. As I said the cake came out very tasty and had the proper appearance but it didn't rise up to the proper depth, it was kinda thin.
     Trial and error number two came after Linda became bedridden, I had added eggs to the recipe and was ready to try again. I got out all of the ingredients in preparation for mixing and started putting things together. I got everything mixed poured into the pan and in the oven, I even tasted the batter and let Linda have a taste - it was delicious. While the cake was in the oven though there was a gnawing sensation in the back of my neck that I screwed up somewhere so I went back over all of the steps and ingredients and there it was, I screwed up again. When gathering the ingredients I grabbed a box of cake mix from the pantry and mixed it up, I noticed several times there were little specs of redish color in the mix but thought nothing of it at the time. What happened was that I grabbed the only box of carrot cake mix instead of yellow cake mix. However not all was lost the cake was delicious and I think even a little tastier, I may even get more carrot cake mix. Tonight I made another cake following all directions with the proper ingredients and it is great - just add ice cream. Yep third time is the charm, oh and I must remember to grease to pan before pouring the mix next time.
     I have only made the cookies one time and they were tasty although they were a little thicker than Linda's. The little kids next door, Rachael and David, are my cookie critics and they gave me two thumbs up. David has reminded me that they are out of cookies so I promised him I would make more tonight. This time I will flatten them out more, it won't effect the taste but appearances are important.
     This old dog may not hunt to well but he can learn a new trick or two.
     Linda is gone now and the house is quiet. I am starting a new phase in life, there are many life changes I am struggling with and at times it is very overwhelming. I have asked myself why bother, maybe Linda was right and I do need a keeper but then that would be giving up and I can't do that. I have friends and family that won't let me quit and certainly not let me starve. I have to go on for MJ and her soon to arrive little brother Mathew I have to tell them about the Grandmother they won't know. I have to tell them how beautiful she was and how much she loved them and how much I loved her.
   


   

     

Acts of Kindness

                                           Acts Of Kindness




     There are many acts of kindness that are exhibited on a daily basis by ordinary people who have sincere feelings for their fellow human beings, recently I have been privileged to witness several such acts.
     I have long known that Linda has touched the lives of many people every where she has gone. I can't tell you how many babies around the country have been wrapped in crocheted blankets and booties that she has made and donated over the years, well over one hundred in the past year alone. I have delivered several large bags of crocheted afghans to the local homeless Veterans shelter. Many times I have come home to find one of the boys' friends staying with us for a few days because our home was a better environment than their own or find one of Linda's friends who was sick and needed someone to watch over them. According to the Bible " cast thy bread upon the waters; for you shall find it after many days ", Linda is now finding her bread.
     It all started when Linda came home from the hospital, knowing that people would be upset if we didn't tell them about her condition I contacted friends and family to let them know just how sick Linda was, there were tears, moments of denial and hugs of sympathy and compassion. Then came the offers to help - " if you need anything call any time ", " what can I do to help ", the offers are many and sometimes overwhelming. Neighbors have sat with Linda while I went grocery shopping or picked up a prescription, the young neighbor next door has come over twice at odd hours to help me lift Linda back onto the bed, his wife has offered to cook. Our friend down the street has come to visit several times and has brought fresh tomatoes from the garden and once while watching Linda as I went to pick up a prescription Linda had an accident and fouled her clothing and bed sheets, by the time I got back the bed was changed and Linda was cleaned and dressed. My best friend Ken and his wife Marlene recently brought us food, coming here is hard for Marlene as she recently lost her sister, she came anyway because Linda is her friend. Linda's sister Vicky and niece Chelsea  planted flowers in the pots outside. Linda has received cards of thanks and well wishing from people she doesn't know or will ever know but in some way she has touched them or people they care about. My sister Vickie knowing that Linda is a letter writer and enjoys getting letters has been sending her post cards from places she visits and cards with letters telling of her latest adventure. Her best friend Diane flew in from Arizona to spend a few days and recall better times. Sister Eileen is driving up from Florida this week to do what she can and hopes to cheer Linda up. Our dog Lizzy alternates between Linda and I but mostly she lays in bed beside Linda ready to protect her and waits for Linda's caress or scratch behind the ear. The Hospice nurses have been great and treat Linda as if she were their mother. All of these acts of kindness come with sincerity and from the heart.
     This past weekend culminated the sincerest and most heart warming of all that has happened thus far, it was so touching that several times I had to step outside and get some air. Clay and Maggie started things off when they came by Thursday after work, Linda was tired but she sat up on the edge of the bed and gave them her undivided attention. Linda loves both her sons equally but Clay is the baby, he was her traveling buddy, growing up he needed her more than Danny or I therefore he holds a special place in her heart. When they got up to go Clay leaned in to hug her and told her that he loved her, saying those words were special enough but the way he did it meant even more, she later told me about the incident with watery eyes and pride in her sons.
     Growing up Danny was the social butterfly and was always bringing home a friend, some were fair weather friends but there were a very few who have stood out and became his life long best friends - they are Emile, Matt, Brooke and Crystal. These kids spent hours and days at our house, they became a part of our family, went on Florida vacations with Linda, raided the cookie jar and she drove them to many track meets. She proudly refers to them as her adopted kids, they called her Mom and always treated her kindly and with affection. Sadly, Emile a young African American who ran track with Danny died in a car accident on prom night, Linda cried at his funeral and feels his loss even now. Crystal has gone on to achieve high academic honors and lives on the west coast, Danny stays in touch with her and tells Linda how she is doing.
     Saturday Matt and his new bride drove over from Huntsville, Al. and spent time with Linda. It has been a couple of years since we last saw Matt, Linda was in the Hospital then about to undergo heart surgery. Linda was happy to meet his wife and reminisce his teenage years. When he left Matt leaned over and hugged her goodbye, it seemed to me it was if he was hugging his own mother. I got a similar hug as I walked them out though I know hers was special.
     Sunday morning Brooke called to ask if he and his family could visit. When they arrived Linda again devoted herself to them. While a Marine in Afghanistan years ago,Linda would send care packages and letters to Brooke, she remembered how things were when I was in Vietnam. After a while as his wife looked on and his baby boy played at our feet Brooke looked at Linda and thanked her for taking him in and making him a part of our family, I don't remember his exact words as I was getting choked up but I do know they meant a lot to Linda. Brooke could have easily taken the wrong path but I like to think that some of the time he spent at our house woofing down Linda's chocolate chip cookies made an impression on him - he has done well for himself and his family.
     Marie and MJ soon joined us and not long afterwards Linda rested and even I took a power nap. When I awoke Clay and Maggie and Danny had arrived  and Linda asked them to help her to the living room where there was room for everyone. The mood was jovial, the chatter loud and the babies were the center of attention. Linda looked around at her family, the little boys who all called her Mom years ago and still do today talked and laughed, they are all young men now with families of their own. Any parent would be proud to have any one of them for a son but this weekend they were and always will be her sons. Linda was tired but happy as we put her back to bed, she wanted to stay up longer but she was drained.
     These kids took the time to come here this weekend because Linda was Mom she needed them and they loved her.
   
   
   

The Cold Dark Days of Winter

                     The Cold Dark Days of Winter   




     Many times I have heard of how life mimics the seasons of the year, I am sure that somewhere in the internet I can come up with some witty quotes but they seem inappropriate at the moment. Now that I am supposedly older and wiser I can see where the changing of the seasons can relate to life - from birth til about the early twenties you are in a hurry to grow up and like the fast blowing winds of spring you run headstrong into adulthood not realizing you will forever attempt to recapture your youth. The next twenty or so years are like the summertime as you work and play hard with little regard for the future, getting old never enters your thoughts. When you enter your late forties to early fifties your hair acquires a touch of grey, lines of age appear in the corners of the eyes and the skin is no longer tightly stretched across the muscles because they too are no longer as firm as they once were, it is just like the leaves of fall as they change color and start to drop to the ground - old age is next. Moving forward into the sixties and beyond is the wintertime of life, things slow down, the days grow shorter, the foliage takes on a grey somehow ghostly appearance. I am now sixty seven and moving into the winter of my life.
     The bleakness of winter has never been as pronounced as it has now become as Linda has recently spent a few days in the hospital, her congestive heart disease acted up again. We thought it was just another episode which would soon pass- just drain some fluid from her lungs and send her home, but this time it was not to be. The doctor called to tell me in a round about way that Linda has months to live. After hanging up the phone I sat beside Linda and told her, it felt as if a knife had been driven into my heart, for such a hot, sunny July day it was suddenly very cold and bleak.
     Since being diagnosed two years ago, Linda and I had talked of the future many times, we understood that time would be short so we made plans to do this or that. We talked about the birth of our granddaughter and after that birth we looked forward to watching her crawl, then walk and hope the day would soon come when we heard her say Grand Ma and Grand Pa. We took day trips to parks, spent a weekend in Charleston and visited my sister in south Georgia. We made plans to travel the Blue Ridge Parkway just because it looked to be a beautiful trip, we planned a trip to Florida to walk on the beach - but we never seemed to find the right time. Riding the Blue Ridge was a summer time trip but the summer heat and humidity kept Linda indoors even though I bought a wheelchair for the trip, the Florida trip was cancelled because Linda didn't want to go if she couldn't walk on the beach - the memories of happier times were overwhelming. Her strength was slowly draining away in that she had to use a walker if she had to go more than twenty feet.
     We consider ourselves practical and realize that the end of life comes to everyone and our time is close at hand. Linda has long felt that she would die before me because of her diabetes and now heart condition so she has, I suppose, made peace with herself and has told me she is ready to go although she is afraid for me. She has even told me I should start looking for another wife, one who likes to fish. She thinks I should get married again so I won't be alone. I reminded her that when we married it was forever and not something I was inclined to do a second time besides I'll have the kids and Grand kids to keep me busy and sometimes loneliness is not so bad.
      This is not the time to be thinking about life without Linda, it is the time to make sure that her time remaining is good and that she has a reason to wake up every day. There are good days and bad days, days when all she wants to do is sleep and days when she gets up and she teaches me to cook my favorite meal so I won't go hungry. Good or bad I have to be positive for her even though at times it is difficult. It is one thing to see an acquaintance or distant relative as they slowly slip away but yet another thing to daily watch as the love of your life struggles with the most menial of task like walking to the shower from the bed or having to sit and rest before reaching the the kitchen. She doesn't like for me to hear her cry either from pain or frustration- mostly from frustration-but I hear,the medicine that works best at these times is just to hold her tight and softly tell her how much I love her, this I do several times a day. In wanting to be strong for her I hold back my own tears.
      The kids come around more often and Linda perks up in their presence, she and they carry on as if nothing is different, we talk and laugh just as we did six months ago. I walk the kids out and and explain why Mom can't come to their house when she feels better. MJ especially brightens her day and every time we see her she seems to have grown up more, in a moment of thoughtfulness Linda said that she was sad that MJ was so young she would not remember her Grandmother. When they leave she cries from exhaustion.
      Linda worries that I spend too much time taking care of her, she wants me to allow a friend to sit with her so I can get out to go fishing or just get away for a few hours. When I do take advantage of the offers it is mainly to go shopping and then I hurry home as I feel I need to be with her. Selfish this may be but I look upon taking care of Linda as my new job, after having taken care of me for forty seven years it is my privilege to take care of her.
     It is now almost a month since she came home from the hospital her strength is slowly waning. Standing requires that she has to put her arms around my neck and I hug her as I pull her up. We stand together for a few moments and hold tightly, I kiss her on the top of her head and tell her everything will be alright as she cries in frustration. Sleep for both of us is difficult, for her it's the pain and effort required to turn over, I listen for sounds that tell me she needs me. She fights and struggles her will to live is still strong. I don't want her to go but neither do I want her to suffer.
     I am mad at the doctors for not being able to fix her. I am mad at myself for not having taken better care of her over the years and I am mad at God for allowing her to suffer and taking her, at such an early age, from all that love her.
     I never knew that pain could run so deep without injury, I never knew that love could be so painful, I never knew that winter could be so cold and dark.

Seems Like Only Yesterday

                                  Seems Like Only Yesterday

     I picked up the newspaper this morning and read a column by a favorite writer, Darrell Huckaby.   He talks about  another popular writer, Lewis Grizzard, who passed away twenty years ago.  Twenty years ago was 1994.   I was forty seven, a little less grey headed, a lot thinner, and the kids were still in high school - could it really be twenty years ago ? - seems like only yesterday.
     I look at myself in the mirror and there is an old man starring back at me.  He has grey hair, a big belly, drooping eyebrows (what's left of them), and age spots.  I got more hair in my ears than most guys have on their head and have to trim my nose hairs more often than I get a haircut.  I don't know when I turned into this old person because it was only yesterday that I was young, lean and tall with dark wavy hair and, if I do say so myself, I was damn good looking.  Could it be that life really does pass in the blink of an eye, does time really fly - snap your fingers today and tomorrow is yesterday.
     As I write my stories the memories are as vivid as if they happened yesterday even the ones that have to be pried from the darkest corners of the deepest caverns of my brain retain the freshness of yesterday. The sights, smells and sounds I encounter today can often recreate things from long ago, and even though I continue walking around in the present, my mind can dredge up some long forgotten memory without me missing a step.
     I see the little four year old boy next door as he learns to ride his first two wheel bike and I remember my first bike and the skinned toes, knees and elbows that went with the experience.  The other day I was burning dead leaves and all of a sudden I was back on the farm playing with matches when I set Grandpa Riggan's fields on fire.  Inhaling the smoke,  I could see the flames and columns of smoke rise above Grandpa's head as he and Granny beat back the flames with wet feed sacks.  I know it wasn't just yesterday but my minds eye and my senses tell me otherwise.
     Seems like only yesterday that I struck out on my own not knowing where I was going or how I would get there.  Back then there were fewer yesterdays and many more tomorrows.
     It was just yesterday that I held Danny in my arms his head fit snugly in my palm and his feet barely reached my elbow.  I saw his first smiles and heard his first words, I watched him learn to walk.   Now I am doing the same thing with his daughter and thinking life doesn't get any better than this.  Clay has a picture of himself, Danny, his Aunt Vickie and Uncle Larry on a fishing trip about twenty five years ago. Vickie is holding him tight as he grins from ear to ear while holding his first fish.  In the grand scheme of things it wasn't that long ago but it is a yesterday I treasure.  I hope to have my picture taken with MJ when she catches her first fish if not maybe Aunt Vickie can fill in for me (she does have a nicer smile).
     It was only yesterday when I met Linda.  She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.  Soon Linda and I will mark our forty seventh anniversary.  The ravages of time have taken their toll on both of us but she feels like an eighteen year old girl when I hold her in my arms.  Her skin is still soft to the touch and her voice as sweet as ever to my ears.  Her blue eyes are still bright and shinny in the sun light.  She still lets me hold her hand as we walk beside each other.  She is still my girl and just as beautiful.  Some yesterdays have no tomorrows, only now's and forever's.
     The problem is that there are a lot of yesterdays and at this stage of life the tomorrows too quickly become more yesterdays and there aren't that many more tomorrows.  By the time I finish this piece now will be tomorrow then yesterday.  This could be an episode of the 1960's "Twilight Zone".




 

Grandpa Was A Redneck

               Grandpa Was A Redneck

    Recently I was watching a PBS show about family farms in Georgia that have been in existence for several generations.  One of the farmers interviewed told how his grandfather worked the farm walking behind a plow pulled by mules or horses.  Everything had to be done by hand and manual labor.  This man was amazed that his grandfather was able to manage the hard work by himself.  This got me to remembering Grandpa Riggan as he worked his farm.   I was pretty young back then and spent most of my time playing, exploring and generally having a good time. I was about ten or eleven when grandpa sold the farm and he was in his late seventies, but the one thing I do remember was that Grandpa was always working. 
     Grandpa's farm implements consisted of several walk behind plows for the various types of plowing required, a ride on mower for cutting fields of hay and a drag made of logs tied together for smoothing out the freshly plowed field.  All of this high tech equipment was powered by a team of mules named Doc and Kit.  Certain times of the year required such things as a wagon for hauling hay and tobacco or the need for a seed planter - again both drawn by mules.   These items he would borrow from neighbors.
     Most times he would do his own planting by hand and for this he had devised very sophisticated tools such as a stick that looked like a walking cane sharpened on one end. This tool would be used for planting corn and allowed Grandpa to plant without bending over.  He would walk down the prepared row and about every twelve inches he would push the sharpened end of the stick about three inches into the ground and drop in a kernel of seed corn from the bag he carried over his shoulder and with his foot he would kick dirt into the hole never missing a step.  He could plant several acres of corn per day.  I know this because I was the little barefoot boy walking behind him picking up worms and dropping them into a can for fishing.
     Sowing fields of grass or hay was performed by using the broadcast method.  He would walk in a straight line with a burlap bag filled with seed draped over his shoulder occasionally reaching into the bag for a handful of seed and with the flick of his wrist he would disperse the seed in an arc before him. His motions were such that he never slowed his pace and the coverage of the seed was complete - no bare spots.   
     Planting tobacco was more involved although it utilized similar sophisticated tooling.  The tool used to make the hole for the tobacco slip was a shorter version of the one for planting corn.  The tobacco planter was only six or seven inches long cut from the fork of a limb and shaped something like a pistol ( looking back I think the shape of these tools were an early form of ergonomics - they presented the proper shape for planting acres of crops without tiring the various muscles of the body).  Tobacco planting, as was harvesting, required several people and Grandpa would hire temporary help or as he did one year, several members of the family came in to help.  I remember Mom and Dad planting tobacco one year.  Planting tobacco required one person to make a hole and drop in the tobacco slip ( a baby tobacco plant grown from seed ) and another person to pour water into the hole and cover it over with dirt and another to keep the first two supplied with water and slips.  I was the one pouring water into the hole.  I do remember Mom only doing this one time and she was not too happy - after all, mom was not raised on a farm.
     During the hot summer Grandpa had to continuously work the fields removing weeds , aerating the dirt and  in the case of vegetables, harvesting the crop for sale at the farmers market in Gallatin or Lebanon. 
     Tobacco required what was called suckering which was removing a sucker leaf growing from the same spot as another leaf.  The tobacco plant was naturally sticky and when this job was performed in the heat of the day it was, for sure,  a dirty job.  There was an upside to this task - the tobacco plant attracted a cut worm that had to be removed.   They were  about as thick as your little finger, long and bright green with black and yellow stripes and rows of stubby legs.  They looked like one of the characters from "Alice in Wonder Land "  but they were great fish bait.
     Hoeing the tobacco was another job where a person used a sharpened hoe to remove weeds from between the plants.  Grandpa usually hired a couple of local guys to help him in this job. One year when I was about nine I talked him into letting me hoe the tobacco and get paid.  Best as I remember I got too close to some of the tobacco plants and hoed them right out of the ground.  Grandpa either didn't know of my errors or chose not to say anything.  My payment came that weekend when he and Granny took me to town and bought me a pair of shoes which I was proud of.  I wore the shoes to church with Grandpa and later to school but I was growing so fast then they were probably too small by Christmas. 
     In addition to working in the fields there were cows to be milked by hand, Grandpa had two or three, the mules to be fed and harnessed, and the pigs to be slopped ( fed ).  When the young piglets were weaned they had to be ringed - meaning they had to have a steel ring placed in their nose with pliers to keep them from rooting and tearing up the land and crops.  Placing a ring in the nose of a pig was simple, first Grandpa would pour food into the pig feed trough and the pigs would come running, once the pigs were inside the pen the work began.  There were special ring pliers that held a ring similar to a "D" ring - Grandpa would insert a ring into the pliers and with one hand he would grab a pig by an ear and raise his front legs in the air then insert and squeeze the pliers attaching the ring around the center cartilage of the pig's nose then pull the pig by the ear to the gate and throw him out into the barnyard.  This whole process was very noisy in that the pigs  normally grunted and squealed while eating but when Grandpa grabbed one by the ear you would have thought he was killing it.  Grandpa was quite efficient at this and had it been popular back then he could have had a second income source as a body piercer, bellybuttons, noses, ears and nipples couldn't be that difficult. 
     Grandpa Riggan worked hard all of his life.  He was well respected in his community and church.  He raised a large family when times were lean and he may have been poor by some standards but he did own his farm and his family never went hungry.  Many days I watched him as he walked behind his plow and in his quiet voice telling his mules to getup or whoa, gee or haw, the reins would be wrapped around his neck and shoulder as his hands grasped the handles of the plow, the furrows straight as a plumb line.  He kept to a rigid schedule - up before dawn, in the field by sunrise, and along about mid morning he would stop and walk to the tree line where he had stashed a jug of water.  There he would sit puffing on his corncob pipe and look out over his fields with eyes shaded by an old sweat stained fedora hat.  Had he known the farmers of Georgia they would have called him brother.
     Growing up I had heard the term "redneck" and understood that it inferred being a farmer who worked his fields in the hot summer sun that burned the back of his neck and quite often a portion of his chest and forearms a dark red.  According to the internet many people back then referred the term "redneck" to uneducated and poor rural southern workers.  Today the term seems to refer to anyone who lives in the country, who are not too smart or sociable, may or may not work often and generally exhibiting behavior that makes people wonder if anyone could really be that stupid.   Judging by the reality shows on TV today there are definitely some strange people who fit this description though none of them fit my conception of a "redneck".
     Grandpa was a "redneck" alright, as were many of his forefathers.  I wish he were here now so I could talk to him and tell him how proud I am to be his grandson.     

Grandpa's First Christmas

             Grandpa's First Christmas





     Since becoming an adult it has been my belief that the true enjoyment in Christmas is watching a child when they first view the Christmas tree surrounded by presents and toys. The innocence of a child is only compounded at Christmas time.  Their joy and happiness is pure and simple, untainted with knowledge and experience.
     Prior to having kids of our own Linda and I would sometimes be invited to a friends house to watch their kids when they walked sleepy eyed into the room where the tree was brightly lit and surrounded by gifts and toys from Santa Clause. The younger the child the more amazing the look they have on their face and the bigger their eyes get trying to take it all in.  I don't remember what Danny and Clay got for Christmas when they were younger but I do remember the expressions on their faces.
     It has been many years since we have experienced this kind of Christmas but now I am a Grandpa.   Last year was MJ's first Christmas but she was only ten days old and Linda was in the hospital recovering from some serious heart surgery. Needless to say Christmas of 2012 was different.
    This year Linda is much better and MJ was one year and ten days old on Christmas morning. Danny and Marie made plans for Linda and I, Bob and Judy Loftin ( the other grandparents with whom we share MJ ) to be at their house by seven o'clock in the morning to watch MJ open presents and eat breakfast.
      When we arrived MJ was in the den with her mother playing with her toys. We walked around the kitchen corner and there she was looking up with a smile on her face.  By the time Linda had figured out how to open the baby gate MJ had already crawled over to the step and was waiting to be picked up. Being the proud Grandpa that I am I never miss an opportunity to hold her and neither Linda or I miss and opportunity to smother her with hugs and kisses.  Christmas morning was such an opportunity for both of us. When you kiss her neck or tickle her she has the best giggle and biggest smile. I do love being a Grandpa.
     We played with MJ until Bob and Judy arrived and Linda reminded me that I must share. With reluctance I handed her over to Judy who proceeded to shower her with more hugs and kisses.  MJ is one lucky little girl.
     We gathered around the Christmas tree, us Grandparents sat off to the side while Marie and MJ sat on the floor and Danny handed out the presents. I think MJ was a little overwhelmed with everything.   She doesn't yet understand that she is supposed to rip off the colorful paper and bows to quickly get to the present inside.  She still thinks she should eat the paper.  It took encouragement and help from Mom and Dad but she finally got the presents unwrapped - now the problem became what to play with first.
     All of the big stuff was nice and pretty but it was the individual pieces that caught her attention. Anything that she could grab and hold on to with her fingers and then stick into her mouth were the most fascinating gifts. It mattered not that the little horsy would slide down the incline with a princess on it's back - she wanted to chew on the horse.  The big attention grabber was a double sided electronic tablet with buttons.  When you push a button it makes a sound relating to the picture on the button.  One side had the alphabet and numbers 1-0, the other side had pictures of things that made a sound and at the bottom there were musical notes that played a tune when pushed.  This she hung on to and drug around.
     After eating breakfast we went home for a nap and later went to Bob and Judy's house for another get together. Bob and Judy's son Will and wife Tara were there and Tara's mother, Clay and Maggie and later more of Bob and Judy's family arrived.  MJ was passed around from one lap to another.  She was hugged and kissed by everyone several times. She looked so cute in her red Christmas dress and white tights. Her bright eyes and big smile made the day for all.
     MJ is very close to walking now and she is cute when she is standing next to her Daddy with a handful of his pants in her tiny hand. During the afternoon she would crawl over to the storm door and stand with one hand on the glass and talk to the dog and cat on the other side. As long as she has something to hold on to she will take a step or two and then let go falling down to a crawling position.  Her verbal skills are improving also but I think it will be quite sometime before anyone can begin to understand anything she may want to say. I do enjoy the baby sounds she makes now.
     All of the excitement and attention of the day might overwhelm other babies but MJ seemed to thrive on it.  I don't know how long a nap she took in the morning but she was still going strong when Linda and I left about 5:30.
     I have no idea how many more Christmas's I will celebrate but after almost losing Linda last year  I look forward to all of them just as I look forward to our time together watching MJ grow.  MJ is at the age where she is constantly fascinated by everything she sees and hears, every moment is a learning experience, everything is a challenge.  I love to take her outside for a short walk and watch  as she continuously turns her head from side to side taking in all of the sights and sounds like a sponge soaking up water.
     I look at this as my first Christmas as a Grandpa.  Needless to say it was also Linda's first as Grandma.  I was hoping for more excitement from MJ but I realize that she is only one year and ten days old, still she adds a whole new dimension to getting old.  This was a great Christmas and they will only get better from here.
     Did I mention I am a proud Grandpa ?



     It takes me days and sometimes weeks to write a story to post.  Grandpa's First Christmas took only six days before I could turn it over to Linda ( my editor ).  New Years Eve was yesterday.  Another first for Grandpa so why not write about it also.

     Danny and Marie were given tickets to the Chick-Fil-A Bowl football game on New Years Eve and asked if Linda and I would babysit MJ.  What a silly question to ask.
     We got to the kids house about 5:30. MJ was there waiting in the den for her Grandpa to pick her up and give her kisses on one cheek while Grandma was kissing the other cheek.  She giggled and laughed and squirmed in my arms.  Marie proceeded to tell us what MJ had eaten and that she would be good until bedtime about 8 or 8:30. From the list of food she consumed one would think she would be set till lunch the next day.
     I held her while Mommy and Dad kissed her goodbye and left for the game.  Marie was worried that this would be the first time that neither her or Danny would be putting MJ to bed but there was nothing to worry about - Grandpa and Grandma had their back.
     I laid MJ on the couch next to Linda and the both of us proceeded to play with her and watch her play by herself.  To us she seems to be getting taller every time we see her.  According to a doctors visit the day before she now weighs 18.2 pounds.  I think she is going to be taller than her Mom.
     About six o'clock I drove to Wendy's and brought back dinner for Linda and I and as I spread out my burger and fries on the coffee table guess who climbs up next to me. You know kids love french fries. MJ may only have four teeth but she had no problem chomping on those fries as fast as I could give them to her - so much for not being hungry till bedtime.
      We watched Ice Age - Dawn of the Dinosaurs on TV.  MJ sat tucked in next to me and watched the movie with interest. She has to cutest way of laying one foot atop the other and occasionally wringing her hands like she might have been holding worry beads. When the movie was over I put in Monster's University which she started watching but slid off the couch and started to play with toys and Grandma.  Around 8:00 it was time to change the diaper and feed her a bottle.  The movie was still going and she watched as she wolfed down about 7 oz. of milk then it was play time again.  About 8:30 she made a grab for the rest of her bottle and let me hold her while she drank, then it was bed time.
     Now according to Danny and Marie bedtime was simple and easy just carry MJ up stairs, read her a bedtime story, put her in her crib with some stuffed animals, turn out the light and walk away.  She will cry for a few minutes and then fall asleep.  It all sounded easy - no problem,  I can handle it.
      I climbed the stairs with MJ in my arms and went to her bedroom.  I found a book and with her sitting on my lap I proceeded to read about a little boy whose mother let a friend come over to play with him and how much fun they had climbing trees and playing hide and seek.  After the story I put MJ in her bed and started to walk away as she cried deep heart breaking sobs.  Now I can say as a parent I remember walking away from a crying baby at bedtime but that was a long time ago and now I am the Grandpa.  MJ is not going to cry herself to sleep while I am around.  To curb your fears, I do not think this is spoiling MJ.
     I picked her up and held her in my arms as she laid her head on my shoulder the sobs and tears slowly turning to the even breathing of contentment.  I rubbed her back and hummed a tune as she went limp in my arms.  I walked over to the bed and laid her down, pulling a blanket over her but then she sat up again crying those heart wrenching sobs as she rubbed her eyes.  Grandpa picked her up again and held her close whispering in her ear that everything will be alright and soon her head rested on my shoulder and I could feel her breathing return to normal.  After a couple of minutes I again lowered her into her bed only to watch her sit up and start to cry.
     This time as I picked her up I stepped over to the rocking chair and sat down holding her to my shoulder.  I rocked back and forth as she calmed down and sighed.  This time I held her longer and rocked until there was no doubt she was asleep.  When I lowered her into the crib and covered her with a blanket she stretched out and sighed but she didn't cry though I was sort of hoping she would.  I could have held her in my arms and rocked her all night.
     I went back down stairs and Linda and I talked and watched episodes of the 1960's Twilight Zone until Linda fell asleep on the couch.  Even though the kids had a baby monitor I still made several trips upstairs to check on MJ listen to her breathing and adjust the blanket.
     Another day of memories ends.
     Did I mention how proud I am to be a Grandpa ?