Young and Beautiful

My parents started dating in high school. My Daddy graduated in 1974 and, by the time my Mommy graduated in 1975, she was already pregnant with me.

My parents married in August 1975, at the Courthouse in Folkston, Georgia. I was born in December, on my Daddy’s 19th birthday. He wanted to name me Michelle, after him and a Beatles song . Instead, they settled on Rebecca Joel (Joelle), both Biblical names and because Joel rhymes with Noel, symbolizing my Christmas birthday. My Daddy wanted to call me Becky Jo, because he thought the girls in the television show “Petticoat Junction” were pretty.

By the time I was five, my parents were divorced, and I was devastated. I remember them fighting but I also remember numerous trips to Disney, Busch Gardens and the beach. One of my favorite memories was a surprise 4th birthday they threw me in the trailer we were living in.

I do not know if this is “normal” but I have often wondered if I was a mistake. My mom was not the warmest of mothers, and I always sort of had the feeling that she thought I ruined her life. That and the fact that she often reminded me that I act and look like my Daddy, a man she divorced.

This year, my Daddy came and spent the night with us on what would have been my Mom’s birthday. We were all talking about her and he told me a story I had never heard before, about the first time they kissed. He said my Mom was beautiful, and they were driving around and ended up by the Callahan Fairgrounds when an Elton John song came on. The song was pretty and romantic, and so my Daddy leaned in and kissed her. Hearing him talk about her like that in such vivid detail made me cry.

He also told me I was likely conceived in the back of his car, a Montego. It sounds gross, but it was actually a funny conversation. The amazing thing is that in the tin of pictures my Mom put aside for me this past summer, there were a ton of her and my Daddy that she had kept all these years, many of which I had never seen. One of them was of my Daddy and that car!

There is something wonderful and peaceful about thinking about my parents as they were when they were young and beautiful and in love. Somehow I think my Mom’s spirit is this vibrant right now in heaven.

My Mom’s Southern Dressing Recipe

My mom was not a cook but she could do it well when she wanted to. When I was a kid, I loved her fried chicken, her spaghetti and her meatloaf.

I also loved when she made Thanksgiving dinner. She made the yummiest dressing and giblet gravy! It’s funny that I like this so much, because she and I were both particular about eating anything other than white meat.

When I was cleaning her bedroom, I found the dressing recipe scribbled on the back of scratch paper, which was her style. I could not help but save it and frame it.

A Literary Excursion

On the way home from Disney, we stopped for gas around Gainesville, and I realized that we were only about 10 miles from the Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings State Park.

I encouraged Mike to indulge me with a little literary excursion.

The Yearling is a fantastic novel about Florida living, and the movie adaptation is one of mine and my Daddy’s favorites to watch together. A few years ago, I stumbled upon an early edition of her biography, Cross Creek, in Amelia Island and was utterly impressed with Rawlings’ melodic, yet raw writing style, as well as her ability to find beauty in a most rugged and dangerous of natural surroundings.

My family is Old Florida, so I appreciated her vivid descriptions of her neighbors. After all, my people were not all too far away from Cross Creek in White Springs.

We arrived about 3 o’clock on Sunday afternoon. A tour was just beginning under the homestead’s barn, but we did not have any cash on us. I was intrigued about the tour guide, who was dressed in period clothes, but we had the kids and I knew they would be a distraction. The coolest thing, though–as I was inquiring about the tour, a lady from Hilliard (Susan Hallman) called my name and offered to pay my way! I was tickled to death to run in to home folk!

Because we were not on the tour, we were not allowed in Rawlings’ home. A kind docent, however, allowed me to take a picture on her porch where she did a great deal of writing.

The kids and Mike were happy to run around her grove, and the kids loved seeing the chickens in their coop. We even got to take a few oranges from her trees home with us as we left. It was a great experience, and I would like to go back and spend more time if I’m ever in the area again.

The Truth Behind the Pictures

I just read Blue-Eyed Bride’s post about her family’s Christmas card photo shoot and just about died laughing.  Our annual shoot in October with my friend, Tammy Rabon, was pure chaos.  Mason is shy and hates to have attention focused on him.  And Miss Julia, well, she is a mess, pure and simple.  When she sees open space, she refuses to be reigned in for even a second and, as she runs free, Mason follows.  Somehow, Tammy still manages to get beautiful shots of my children.  I have no idea how.

This year’s shoot was done at a local private plantation.  The setting is stunning, but an hour after chasing the kids, I was ready to give up.  I finally told Tammy that if she could assure me that she had gotten one decent photo, I was okay with heading home.

Picture it: As we are having this conversation standing at the bottom of a hill with a huge antebellum plantation at the top, all of a sudden, I hear Mason begin screaming, “Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pale of water…”  The next thing I know, I turn to see Mase and Julia running as fast they can to the top of the hill, falling down and, before I could catch them, rolling down the steep incline in their beautiful, special occasion clothes.  I wanted to cry, but their giggles and rosy cheeks just made me laugh and sigh.  I relentlessly gave up and listened to them sing-song their way up and down that hill over and over again.

And somehow, by some miracle, Tammy snapped this shot of the two of them playing.  It is my favorite one of the day and will be treasured for the rest of my life.

Sometimes, the stories behind the Christmas cards are far greater than the pictures themselves.

Mason & Julia, Christmas Card, 2012

 

A Little Boy’s Dream

After Thanksgiving dinner, we drove up through Georgia to meet up with my cousins Susie and Chris in Nahunta. They own a pulp-wood (timber) company, and Chris’ equipment was near his house. He was sweet enough to invite Mason out to play with him on the tractors.

It was nearly dusk when we got there and was so peaceful and beautiful deep in the woods. Mason’s face lit up when he saw the equipment but I was not sure how he would do when it started. He does not like loud noises usually; but he did really well.

He got to ride on three machines–a loader, a cutter, and one other I forgot the name of for now. He actually got to cut down some trees, then cut them up. It was super cool!

Fear of Doctors

One of the things I get most upset about is my lifelong fear of doctors. My family has always laughed it off as melodramatics and called me a hypochondriac, but I am not eagerly creating illnesses in my mind. I do, however, get very real, very scary anxiety for days prior to any of my appointments, including check-ups. It is debilitating and embarrassing, and I have tried many things to ease my stress to no avail. Prayer is the only thing that works, and sometimes I feel as if my faith is failing me because I still feel scared.

I am not a therapist by any stretch of the imagination, but I now think I at least realize where this irrational fear originates.

When I was a little girl, we were very poor. Although my Mom has always found a way to seek medical treatment for a wide array of illnesses, we did not have a family doctor when I was a child. In fact, I did not actually have a family doctor until I was in high school. For shots, we went to the County Health Department and for occasional sports physicals, we went to the sweet old town quack who basically signed off on anything. My dad’s family is very Appalachian in their approach to life and believe that you only go to the doctor if you are dying, so, fortunately, I was never sick.

Then my dad’s dad, my Papaw Bandy, was diagnosed with terminal lung cancer. I was four or five, and that was the same time that my young parents separated and eventually divorced.

Bomba and Papaw Bandy, Me, and My Cousin, Susie

My first memory of going to a medical facility was driving with my Daddy and brother to see my Papaw in the ICU at St. Vincent’s Hospital in Jacksonville. Something about the city lights made me really uneasy. My Dad was not sure if they would let us in, but he insisted on taking us with him. I was scared to death and was nervous that they would turn us away.

The smell of the hospital was overwhelming. We were allowed up and I remember like it was yesterday being in my Papaw’s room. In fact, it is the clearest memory I have of my childhood and to this day it stirs strong emotions in me.

My Mom had sent my recent school picture with me to give my Papaw. I handed it to him and he grabbed my hand. I remember he held it really tightly for what seemed like an eternity. He did not say much, but he did not have to speak. I knew he was saying good-bye to me. I wanted to cry so bad, but I did not. With all the strength my little body could muster, I held in my tears. I wanted to be strong for him. No one had to tell me what was going on; yet, I knew, as sure as the sun is in the sky, that this would be the last time I saw my beloved grandfather. My heart still holds my tears.

So, in my formative brain, I had to deal with the traumas of divorce and death at the same time. To me, doctors equal cancer and cancer equals death. This childhood fear is imprinted on my mind as firm as any other part of my personality.

My Papaw Bandy died on December 15, 1981, just four days before my sixth birthday. Coincidently, I share a birthday with my Dad and his twin brother. I wanted to go to the funeral but my Mother would not let me. That was probably a good decision and one that I would make, too, but it also likely had something to do with getting even with my Daddy on some level.

And that was that. I never really got to mourn. I only got to experience fear and pain and separation, and I honestly do not remember anyone ever caring what I was feeling in the first place.

It amazes me what little concern even well-meaning parents can have for their children.

A Magical Halloween

Mason and Jules had a magical Halloween. And I enjoyed it as much as they did.

They had their party at school on the Friday before so I bought them themed outfits to wear to celebrate. I found Julia’s adorable pumpkin ensemble at Lolli and The Bean in Tallahassee.

On Halloween, Mason got to go with me to school. We had a Willy Wonka-themed hall, and I dressed him up to be Charlie to match my friend Kaitlin’s Golden Ticket. He was so good, and my students ate him up. After it was said and done, he told me that he had enjoyed THE BEST day!

There was no doubt that Miss Julia was going to be “Cinderelli” for Halloween. I bought her a light-up dress and all the accessories. Getting her ready for trick-or-treat was foreshadowing for prom or her wedding.

After she was fully garbed, Miss Julia made me put on “So This is Love” as she pranced elegantly out to find her daddy.

Mason refused to let me buy him a new costume. He wanted to be a shark again, but he would only wear the bottom half of the costume.

Fun on the Farm

After Aunt Tanya left, Mom, the kids and I went in search of a pumpkin patch. Instead, we stumbled upon Aunt Louise’s corn maze located on Waukeenah Highway in Jefferson County. What a great afternoon surprise!

We did not have much cash on us, so we skipped the corn and took a tour of the farm. The owner and her family are so nice, and they showed Mason and Julia the animals and even took Mason on a tractor ride. They had baby goats, cows, chickens and bunnies. The kids got to pet them all.

After the animals, we hung out under the oaks and watched as the kids played in an old tire filled with corn kerns. Who knew something so simple could entertain them for so long?

I am so glad that we live in the country. I want my kids to enjoy being outside, breathing fresh air and soaking up the sun. I also want them to appreciate agriculture and to learn where their food comes from. What better place to start than right down the road?

If you are in the Jefferson/Leon County-area, stop by Aunt Louise’s Corn Maze. It is great, old-fashioned family fun.

Aunt Tanya

Aunt Tanya is my best friend. She does not have children of her own, but she was brave enough to come for a visit and deal with mine. I hope we did not scare her off for good. I would not blame her if she swore off my house, at least for the next ten years or so, though.

The kids were thrilled to see her. She went with me to pick them up from preschool, and they proudly gave her the tour of their classrooms. It was adorable. Julia took to her like white on rice, which was great until she decided to fill Aunt Tanya’s makeup bag with water. Yeah.

We tried to keep her busy and entertained. After breakfast on Saturday, we went shopping in Thomasville. I was scheduled to be a “story time” reader at the book store, so we played in there for a while, then went in most of the shops downtown. We also had a delicious lunch at Moon Spin Pizza thanks to a gift certificate from Ms. Katie B. Of course, on the way to lunch we had more mommy drama, after Mason told me he had taken a small book out of Shapes and More. A crying, guilty Mason returned it promptly and all was well. He was so freaked out and scared that we had to run and potty behind a dumpster to prevent an accident. Sweet boy.

Afterwards, I showed off the beautiful historic oak tree by making her pose for pictures with the babies. I love these shots!

Poor Tonner! Seeing my life through eyes is really kind of crazy. I did at least send her home with a chocolate cupcake from Lucy & Leo’s. Maybe that will bribe her to come back soon?