Saying Goodbye is important. Whether it be while our family is living, past, or currently passing. There
are things that we feel as humans that at times feel impossible to express with words. Towards the end,
somehow we find the words we want to say.
My husband was given some bad news this week. His mom, his biggest fan, the woman who raised and
loved him when no one else would, was not going to make it through the week. After a series of some
strange medical events her body is functioning, but her brain is no longer. Tomorrow we are making the
drive to meet his sister and say goodbye. I dread this for him. I think that it is necessary, I just dread it.
Life is precious. I have been so blessed this far in life to not suffer too much pain in loss. I have lost a
couple of friends, 2 grandads, a Memac, and numerous other relatively important people in my world.
Though the people who know my heart, and would love me unconditionally are still here. I try as often
as possible to tell them how much they mean to me, how much I enjoy spending time with them, and
how much an absence of their life would be felt. I encourage everyone to do that. Have a plan for your
passing and make sure that the ones you leave behind know how you feel, we are not promised our next
breath.
Thursday, June 4, 2020
Tuesday, June 2, 2020
Seasons of Change
As I get older, I find myself drawn to a much simpler life with a much smaller circle. For 17 years, I have prided myself on having a very large and diverse group of friends. If you ask any of them, I have been fairly persistent about reaching out. When I was single, I reached out every couple of weeks. As I fell in love, it would be every couple of months. This last year it has probably been even less than that. I try to reach out on birthdays, some holidays and to share a memory if it pops up on my time hop.
I think one of the hardest things to realize is that even though you love and respect each other; the things you value- family, religion, politics – can be very different. I have changed. I am not the same person I was 5 years ago, hell I am not even the same person that I was last year! I live for weekends on my parent’s farm – grilling steaks, taking naps, working puzzles and watching fireflies. The highlight of my social nights are “Ladies Night Out” at the Symphony and dinner with a girlfriend. Date Night (while still very important to my husband and I) now can easily consist of Door Dash Mexican and the latest Netflix movie. Don’t get me wrong – I still love to travel. I still love to go to the beach or head out on the lake for the day. But for the most part, I enjoy those things because I go with people I love and I can relax while socializing.
The days of going to a party (or even to a bar for that matter) are so distant in my past that I can’t even imagine going now. Bowling every once in a while, hitting a winery and day drinking with my girls or drinking games during a big football game – maybe, but I can say with certainty - You will never again find me out at 2am trying to find a ride home.
I had a fabulous “end” to my partying days. In the months leading up to my wedding we had an Engagement Fiesta, an I Do BBQ, a Bridal Brunch and the most epic bachelorette weekend I could’ve ever imagined. I think those parties (and marrying Ray in front of everyone I love) made the “easing out” of my reckless years a very smooth transition.
Last weekend I spent Friday-Monday enjoying my family. Playing board games with my uncles and cousins, drinking coffee (with bourbon) and eating BLT’s early mornings with my dad, working puzzles with my mom, getting to know my brother’s new girlfriend, chopping endless vegetables, enjoying my dad’s famous pork tenderloin (with the white sauce), watching the sunset over the rolling hills, sending off candle lit lanterns high into the air, and piling in the truck after dark to see if the awesomeness of the fireflies is out in full force.
My hope for all of my girlfriends, past and present, is that they slow down and love the moments surrounding them. Let Sunday morning coffee bring you just as much joy as the Jager bombs at the club used to, let laughing at your kids and their wildly goofy imaginations replace laughing at your drunk friends falling out of their chair. This is the hand we have been dealt. Enjoy your parents and siblings if you are able, take a minute to watch your kids with wonder, enjoy meals with your significant other as often as possible. It may not feel as wild and crazy as your life once felt, but the feeling of fullness and contentment is incomparable.
I think one of the hardest things to realize is that even though you love and respect each other; the things you value- family, religion, politics – can be very different. I have changed. I am not the same person I was 5 years ago, hell I am not even the same person that I was last year! I live for weekends on my parent’s farm – grilling steaks, taking naps, working puzzles and watching fireflies. The highlight of my social nights are “Ladies Night Out” at the Symphony and dinner with a girlfriend. Date Night (while still very important to my husband and I) now can easily consist of Door Dash Mexican and the latest Netflix movie. Don’t get me wrong – I still love to travel. I still love to go to the beach or head out on the lake for the day. But for the most part, I enjoy those things because I go with people I love and I can relax while socializing.
The days of going to a party (or even to a bar for that matter) are so distant in my past that I can’t even imagine going now. Bowling every once in a while, hitting a winery and day drinking with my girls or drinking games during a big football game – maybe, but I can say with certainty - You will never again find me out at 2am trying to find a ride home.
I had a fabulous “end” to my partying days. In the months leading up to my wedding we had an Engagement Fiesta, an I Do BBQ, a Bridal Brunch and the most epic bachelorette weekend I could’ve ever imagined. I think those parties (and marrying Ray in front of everyone I love) made the “easing out” of my reckless years a very smooth transition.
Last weekend I spent Friday-Monday enjoying my family. Playing board games with my uncles and cousins, drinking coffee (with bourbon) and eating BLT’s early mornings with my dad, working puzzles with my mom, getting to know my brother’s new girlfriend, chopping endless vegetables, enjoying my dad’s famous pork tenderloin (with the white sauce), watching the sunset over the rolling hills, sending off candle lit lanterns high into the air, and piling in the truck after dark to see if the awesomeness of the fireflies is out in full force.
My hope for all of my girlfriends, past and present, is that they slow down and love the moments surrounding them. Let Sunday morning coffee bring you just as much joy as the Jager bombs at the club used to, let laughing at your kids and their wildly goofy imaginations replace laughing at your drunk friends falling out of their chair. This is the hand we have been dealt. Enjoy your parents and siblings if you are able, take a minute to watch your kids with wonder, enjoy meals with your significant other as often as possible. It may not feel as wild and crazy as your life once felt, but the feeling of fullness and contentment is incomparable.
Monday, June 1, 2020
Strange and Trying Times
What a strange season of life this is. We are about 75-80 days into a pandemic. On March 16th, 2020, our city of Owensboro shut all restaurants and churches and schools down to prevent the spread of a novel coronavirus (COVID-19). Social media opinions were polarizing. There were right wing/left wing opinions on whether or not shutting down the country was a good idea. Our governor, Andy Beshear, was on the liberal side of the fence wanting to shut down everything early, trying to shield Kentucky from the rapid spread of this disease. There are still varying opinions on how dangerous this virus is, how it was introduced to people, and the role the media played in the hysteria. For the first time in my lifetime, the NCAA tournaments were cancelled. The NBA was effectively shut down. Concerts were cancelled, college campuses went to strictly online courses, and Disney World was closed for the duration of 2020. It was madness.
A couple of weeks ago, in early May, videos of a young black man who was gunned down while jogging this February, began circulating through the media. Both the MSM and social media helped this video go viral. Three white men under the guise of “neighborhood watch” chased down and shot this young unarmed black man, and as of May 2020 they had still not been arrested or convicted. Then a young black female police officer was shot in her home in the middle of the night because the police “raided” the wrong apartment. Again, no arrests were made, no one was held accountable. And then, the final straw, video surfaced of a middle aged black men being murdered in broad daylight- on the street, in front of on-lookers. There were 4 police and one man, face down in the street while the officers kneeled on him until he took his last breath. The video was gut-wrenching. You could hear him beg “please you are killing me, I can’t breathe” and still the officers were unrelenting, stoic almost. No arrests were made, no charges were filed, for almost a week. Still today, only one officer has been charged. Since that time, the streets of major cities have been filled with protests. People protesting that “Black lives matter.” I am ashamed. I am ashamed of my country. I am ashamed of my justice system. I am ashamed of the racism of some people with the same color of skin as me.
Because of my white privilege it isn’t fair of me to speak up and say things like “all lives matter” or “I see no color” or even how I truly feel which is “this is not a black and white thing, this is a right and wrong thing.” Because of my white privilege, I will never have to be pulled over for a traffic stop and have my fear be more than a ticket. Because of my white privilege, I can choose whether to stand up for this issue or to remain seated silently. But let me tell you, now is NOT the time to be silent. All POC are watching us. They are on high alert. They need to know which side RIGHT/WRONG, BLACK/WHITE, RACIST/ANTIRACIST. Because to them, if you sit silently not acknowledging what is happening to them, you are on the opposite side.
I am married to a proud, black man. A hardworking and kind black man. A man who would stand up and die for me, for his kids, but also for his race and the injustices that they are experiencing. I hope like hell it never comes to that. But it is a fear of his, and because of that it is a fear of mine.
There are so many divisive tactics being used. There are videos being played over and over again of violence and looters. Yet the majority of protestors are peaceful. ANTIFA has been bussing in people by the droves to incite violence and to make the outcries of the oppressed be muffled and to give the police a reason to meet violence with violence. The stories that warm my heart are of the deputy that marched with the people in Flint, MI. The group of young black men who made themselves human shields for the officer that was separated from his other officers. The group of young black Americans who formed a human line in front of stores to prevent looting and further violence. The group of young white protestors, in Louisville, who formed a human chain between the young black protestors and the police preventing either side from being violent. All of the videos of the non-corrupt cops kneeling in solidarity with the peaceful protestors. All of the black leaders wanting to hug and shake hands with some of LOE to show that not all are filled with hate.
I don’t think that the black community wants anything more than justice. They don’t want special treatment. They want to be treated like the humans that they are. We should prosecute men (or women) who commit murder. Their badge should not give them a license to kill. There should be training in place to be able to maintain control. But there should never be a “suspected, nonviolent offender” that ends up dead – never. The officer that knelt on George Floyd’s neck until he took his last breath had approximately 12 violent infractions prior to this man’s death. At what point do the higher ups put him on desk duty. At what point do they look at his performance and re-evaluate for the safety of Americans. While 1 officer has been charged, there were 4 officers involved and it sounds like to me, many more people who contributed to the degradation of this officer. They aren’t asking for this officer to be hung. They are asking for him to be treated like any other human that committed this act would be treated. PROSECUTE THEM. It isn’t enough to fire them. If George Floyd had committed a murder he would have been detained immediately. If George Floyd had been present and witnessed a murder he would have been detained immediately. Why is it asking so much to arrest those responsible for his death?
Violence is not the answer. If you listen to them (the oppressed, those protesting), if you really hear what they are saying. Violence is not their goal. It is not their intent. It is the only way they know how to get us (the oppressor, the silent majority, the privileged) to hear them. Kneeling didn’t work, writing letters didn’t work, and peaceful protesting hasn’t worked. So now if their cries continue to go unheard, they are fully prepared to BURN THIS SHIT TO THE GROUND.
A couple of weeks ago, in early May, videos of a young black man who was gunned down while jogging this February, began circulating through the media. Both the MSM and social media helped this video go viral. Three white men under the guise of “neighborhood watch” chased down and shot this young unarmed black man, and as of May 2020 they had still not been arrested or convicted. Then a young black female police officer was shot in her home in the middle of the night because the police “raided” the wrong apartment. Again, no arrests were made, no one was held accountable. And then, the final straw, video surfaced of a middle aged black men being murdered in broad daylight- on the street, in front of on-lookers. There were 4 police and one man, face down in the street while the officers kneeled on him until he took his last breath. The video was gut-wrenching. You could hear him beg “please you are killing me, I can’t breathe” and still the officers were unrelenting, stoic almost. No arrests were made, no charges were filed, for almost a week. Still today, only one officer has been charged. Since that time, the streets of major cities have been filled with protests. People protesting that “Black lives matter.” I am ashamed. I am ashamed of my country. I am ashamed of my justice system. I am ashamed of the racism of some people with the same color of skin as me.
Because of my white privilege it isn’t fair of me to speak up and say things like “all lives matter” or “I see no color” or even how I truly feel which is “this is not a black and white thing, this is a right and wrong thing.” Because of my white privilege, I will never have to be pulled over for a traffic stop and have my fear be more than a ticket. Because of my white privilege, I can choose whether to stand up for this issue or to remain seated silently. But let me tell you, now is NOT the time to be silent. All POC are watching us. They are on high alert. They need to know which side RIGHT/WRONG, BLACK/WHITE, RACIST/ANTIRACIST. Because to them, if you sit silently not acknowledging what is happening to them, you are on the opposite side.
I am married to a proud, black man. A hardworking and kind black man. A man who would stand up and die for me, for his kids, but also for his race and the injustices that they are experiencing. I hope like hell it never comes to that. But it is a fear of his, and because of that it is a fear of mine.
There are so many divisive tactics being used. There are videos being played over and over again of violence and looters. Yet the majority of protestors are peaceful. ANTIFA has been bussing in people by the droves to incite violence and to make the outcries of the oppressed be muffled and to give the police a reason to meet violence with violence. The stories that warm my heart are of the deputy that marched with the people in Flint, MI. The group of young black men who made themselves human shields for the officer that was separated from his other officers. The group of young black Americans who formed a human line in front of stores to prevent looting and further violence. The group of young white protestors, in Louisville, who formed a human chain between the young black protestors and the police preventing either side from being violent. All of the videos of the non-corrupt cops kneeling in solidarity with the peaceful protestors. All of the black leaders wanting to hug and shake hands with some of LOE to show that not all are filled with hate.
I don’t think that the black community wants anything more than justice. They don’t want special treatment. They want to be treated like the humans that they are. We should prosecute men (or women) who commit murder. Their badge should not give them a license to kill. There should be training in place to be able to maintain control. But there should never be a “suspected, nonviolent offender” that ends up dead – never. The officer that knelt on George Floyd’s neck until he took his last breath had approximately 12 violent infractions prior to this man’s death. At what point do the higher ups put him on desk duty. At what point do they look at his performance and re-evaluate for the safety of Americans. While 1 officer has been charged, there were 4 officers involved and it sounds like to me, many more people who contributed to the degradation of this officer. They aren’t asking for this officer to be hung. They are asking for him to be treated like any other human that committed this act would be treated. PROSECUTE THEM. It isn’t enough to fire them. If George Floyd had committed a murder he would have been detained immediately. If George Floyd had been present and witnessed a murder he would have been detained immediately. Why is it asking so much to arrest those responsible for his death?
Violence is not the answer. If you listen to them (the oppressed, those protesting), if you really hear what they are saying. Violence is not their goal. It is not their intent. It is the only way they know how to get us (the oppressor, the silent majority, the privileged) to hear them. Kneeling didn’t work, writing letters didn’t work, and peaceful protesting hasn’t worked. So now if their cries continue to go unheard, they are fully prepared to BURN THIS SHIT TO THE GROUND.
Thursday, February 8, 2018
Beginning ... Again
I am a big proponent of “Everything happens for a reason” and “I am exactly where I am supposed to be” however - I have used that as a crutch for entirely too long. I am sure the majority of you watch “This is Us” – Kate struggles with weight and her “addiction to food.” Let me go ahead and break it down for you – THAT. IS. REAL. That feeling of inadequacy of hating yourself for not having any self-control when it comes to food YET reveling in the safety that your weight brings. Y’all that shit is real life.
Of course people want to be thin. Of course they want to feel better. And of course diet and exercise would do that for me – hell it would do that for ANYBODY. But the conscious effort we make on a day to day basis is not that simple. Life is hard and even on our best days our bodies fail. Our willpower fails. Macaroni and Cheese is my spirit animal < LBVS.
I have medical problems that are beginning to present themselves again – 5 years past the date of my VSG surgery. Hypertension, Fatigue, Anxiety, Depression, Hormonal changes, Digestive issues. I am still 60 lbs lighter than I was when I began my journey; but I said I would never go back above 300 and I did. I failed. I failed myself. I failed my physician. I failed my support system. Despite my failures – Despite my lack of will power. My supporters are still present – and they are louder than ever.
I have 14 months to make another go of this thing. This “weight loss” journey per se. So that I don’t have to buy 2 plane tickets for myself in order to go on a honey moon (YES that is a thing). So that I can marry a man that I dreamt of for so long. Not him physically. But the emotional safety. The mental support. The unconditional love feeling that for so long I had only felt from my parents and my siblings.
I am happy! I am so in love! I am loved! I am worth it! So I am SOOO doing this. Feel free to support me if you’d like – I have so much to prove! If support is not what you have to offer, then that is fine. Just sit back and watch me live my best life possible.
XO – BIG E
Of course people want to be thin. Of course they want to feel better. And of course diet and exercise would do that for me – hell it would do that for ANYBODY. But the conscious effort we make on a day to day basis is not that simple. Life is hard and even on our best days our bodies fail. Our willpower fails. Macaroni and Cheese is my spirit animal < LBVS.
I have medical problems that are beginning to present themselves again – 5 years past the date of my VSG surgery. Hypertension, Fatigue, Anxiety, Depression, Hormonal changes, Digestive issues. I am still 60 lbs lighter than I was when I began my journey; but I said I would never go back above 300 and I did. I failed. I failed myself. I failed my physician. I failed my support system. Despite my failures – Despite my lack of will power. My supporters are still present – and they are louder than ever.
I have 14 months to make another go of this thing. This “weight loss” journey per se. So that I don’t have to buy 2 plane tickets for myself in order to go on a honey moon (YES that is a thing). So that I can marry a man that I dreamt of for so long. Not him physically. But the emotional safety. The mental support. The unconditional love feeling that for so long I had only felt from my parents and my siblings.
I am happy! I am so in love! I am loved! I am worth it! So I am SOOO doing this. Feel free to support me if you’d like – I have so much to prove! If support is not what you have to offer, then that is fine. Just sit back and watch me live my best life possible.
XO – BIG E
Wednesday, June 21, 2017
McFarland Memory Lane
I graduated high school in 2003. That year and for a few years after that, my friends and I hung out at "The Trailer." There were older guys, no adults, loud music, and endless amounts of fun. There was drama, sometimes there were fights, there were tears and there so much laughter. We would hang out late nights into early mornings, or we would spend the day sitting around watching movies, taking naps, or fishing. We played drinking games until we couldn't see straight. If we were not supposed to do it, we did it out there. It was a parent's worst nightmare, yet it was some of the most fun I have ever had.
Ben was the type of guy who would show up to anything with the same attitude. Whether church, work, class or a party. He had a laugh that was incomparable to anyone else's. He was always smiling. Ben drove a big green truck and worked every day that I knew him. He would be dirty and tired and even still ready to have the best time. He was instant friends with anyone who knew him.
I can remember playing Presidents and Assholes with him one particular night. We played that often, but the night I am thinking of my best friend Beth and I had split a half gallon of CHEAP Vodka and we were cheating (like we always did). Somehow Ben was trying to see my cards and I jerked and my entire chair flipped upside down. I was stuck in this little bitty computer chair with my legs straight up in the air. All 250 lbs of me was upside down and all Ben could do was laugh. I was laughing too, but I was mad because he couldn't help me up because he was laughing so hard.
Those times, times that I can barely remember, were some of the most wild and fun memories I will ever make!
Life pushes you in so many different directions, and some of us have grown apart. But we will all always have the times we shared with Ben. The memory of his sweet smile and his infectious laughs. His ability to play hard but to work even harder.
This makes me want to drink cheap vodka, in a smoky trailer with rap music in the background. Or put on my hoodie and head to 2 Mile with some Crown Royal. Rest in Peace Ben Allen Burns. I hope there is plenty of Crown to welcome you home!
Ben was the type of guy who would show up to anything with the same attitude. Whether church, work, class or a party. He had a laugh that was incomparable to anyone else's. He was always smiling. Ben drove a big green truck and worked every day that I knew him. He would be dirty and tired and even still ready to have the best time. He was instant friends with anyone who knew him.
I can remember playing Presidents and Assholes with him one particular night. We played that often, but the night I am thinking of my best friend Beth and I had split a half gallon of CHEAP Vodka and we were cheating (like we always did). Somehow Ben was trying to see my cards and I jerked and my entire chair flipped upside down. I was stuck in this little bitty computer chair with my legs straight up in the air. All 250 lbs of me was upside down and all Ben could do was laugh. I was laughing too, but I was mad because he couldn't help me up because he was laughing so hard.
Those times, times that I can barely remember, were some of the most wild and fun memories I will ever make!
Life pushes you in so many different directions, and some of us have grown apart. But we will all always have the times we shared with Ben. The memory of his sweet smile and his infectious laughs. His ability to play hard but to work even harder.
This makes me want to drink cheap vodka, in a smoky trailer with rap music in the background. Or put on my hoodie and head to 2 Mile with some Crown Royal. Rest in Peace Ben Allen Burns. I hope there is plenty of Crown to welcome you home!
Wednesday, June 14, 2017
Fat Chances
So as you all know, I am a big girl. And when I say I am a big girl, I do not mean in that cute "everybody loves a thick chick" type of big. I have been considered morbidly obese since probably the 5th grade. Who knows why! Is it genes? Is it inactivity? Is it thyroids? Do I really eat that much more than the average Joe?
I suspect I have a slow metabolism. I also work at a job where I am sedentary 90 % of the day. I also have begun some piss poor eating habits that include late night munching and loads of sugar.
I know that most of you have been with me throughout this whole journey. You watched as I lost 135 pounds! You watched as I transformed my body! And then I am sure, you felt a surge of disappointment as you saw my weight loss dwindle.
I could never describe for you readers my feelings about my weight. Frustration, Exhaustion, Despair, Anger. Those words can't even begin to describe my feelings. But something I didn't anticipate feeling was sorrow, embarrassment, and guilt. If I am being completely transparent with you guys, letting down the people who were so excited for this journey with me was not something I was concerned about until I started to see the level of enthusiasm this blog got!! I get it, everybody struggles with weight in some form or fashion. Whether they are too skinny, too big, uncomfortable in a bathing suit or just uncomfortable in jeans. Everyone can relate. And transformations are always fun to watch.
The attention was well received and I am not entirely sure what "went wrong" with my journey except to say that I am burnt out on dieting and meal plans and food sans sugar. I didn't want to mess with it any longer. I still have my "tool" of a smaller stomach and my knowledge from all my nutrition classes. And all the support I could ever need.
This post is to let you know I am grateful to all of you, and I am still here, still big, still beautiful, and still determined to live my best life yet.
Stay Tuned ...
I suspect I have a slow metabolism. I also work at a job where I am sedentary 90 % of the day. I also have begun some piss poor eating habits that include late night munching and loads of sugar.
I know that most of you have been with me throughout this whole journey. You watched as I lost 135 pounds! You watched as I transformed my body! And then I am sure, you felt a surge of disappointment as you saw my weight loss dwindle.
I could never describe for you readers my feelings about my weight. Frustration, Exhaustion, Despair, Anger. Those words can't even begin to describe my feelings. But something I didn't anticipate feeling was sorrow, embarrassment, and guilt. If I am being completely transparent with you guys, letting down the people who were so excited for this journey with me was not something I was concerned about until I started to see the level of enthusiasm this blog got!! I get it, everybody struggles with weight in some form or fashion. Whether they are too skinny, too big, uncomfortable in a bathing suit or just uncomfortable in jeans. Everyone can relate. And transformations are always fun to watch.
The attention was well received and I am not entirely sure what "went wrong" with my journey except to say that I am burnt out on dieting and meal plans and food sans sugar. I didn't want to mess with it any longer. I still have my "tool" of a smaller stomach and my knowledge from all my nutrition classes. And all the support I could ever need.
This post is to let you know I am grateful to all of you, and I am still here, still big, still beautiful, and still determined to live my best life yet.
Stay Tuned ...
Tuesday, June 6, 2017
Kids on a Farm
When I was younger, we had a family farm out in a small town called Habit, Ky. We had a barn that was built over an old cemetery (where I saw my first ghost may I add), we had an out house, some rolling hills, honeysuckle, crab apple trees, and a well. I was too young to know the danger of the well, but there were many precautions around it ensuring that we were unable to fall in. As a kid, I have so many memories of this farm.
I ate frog legs and okra there for the first time. Used the outhouse for the first (and ONLY) time in my life. Ate honeysuckle straight from the vine. And went on numerous exploring adventures with my other cousins. I had an older cousin, Sarah, who was 5 years older (and much cooler) than me. Then there were 2 cousins, Rachel and Kathryn, that were very close in age to my brother Clay and I. There were other cousins (and a brother) that were born at that time or much later, but for purposes of these stories - they were much too young!
So, the Fab Four - myself, Rachel, Kathryn and Clay - would line up with our backs to our uncles and they would throw ICE cold WELL water on us!!! It was so cold it took our breaths away! I have no idea why that was fun for us, but we would beg for it!!! If any of you have never felt or tasted well water, you'll have no concept of how cold it could be. I am surprised our bodies didn't go into shock! I have certainty if I were to do the same thing today I wouldn't survive.
I can remember one Sunday afternoon my dad had all of us kids out at the farm for some reason by himself. In the midst of our day, he swallowed a bee that had flown into his coke. It stung his uvula. Still to this day he says that the whole ride back to town he thought he was going to die, that his throat was going to swell shut and he would suffocate. Thankfully it is a story we can laugh about.
My brother Clay got his first BB gun during one of the summers we spent at the farm. I say first, but I venture to guess it is the only gun he was allowed to have under my dad's roof for two reasons. One is that he shot one of the neighbor girls from a very far range - not thinking he could hit her. He shot her in the face, while she was on a horse. So while Clay had scarily good aim, he also didn't have a lick of BB gun ettiquette. Cut forward to the next weekend, as my dad was locking the barn to leave one day he noticed there was glass on the ground in front of the barn. He looked up and the lightbulb of the second story barn had been shot out. When he asked Clay if he knew who shot out the light, Clay without hesitating told him that our next door neighbor Steven that had spent the day at the farm with us did. Furious, my dad asked why Steven would do such a thing. My innocent, sweet little brother who was probably 12 years old responded simply "Because I missed"
I ate frog legs and okra there for the first time. Used the outhouse for the first (and ONLY) time in my life. Ate honeysuckle straight from the vine. And went on numerous exploring adventures with my other cousins. I had an older cousin, Sarah, who was 5 years older (and much cooler) than me. Then there were 2 cousins, Rachel and Kathryn, that were very close in age to my brother Clay and I. There were other cousins (and a brother) that were born at that time or much later, but for purposes of these stories - they were much too young!
So, the Fab Four - myself, Rachel, Kathryn and Clay - would line up with our backs to our uncles and they would throw ICE cold WELL water on us!!! It was so cold it took our breaths away! I have no idea why that was fun for us, but we would beg for it!!! If any of you have never felt or tasted well water, you'll have no concept of how cold it could be. I am surprised our bodies didn't go into shock! I have certainty if I were to do the same thing today I wouldn't survive.
I can remember one Sunday afternoon my dad had all of us kids out at the farm for some reason by himself. In the midst of our day, he swallowed a bee that had flown into his coke. It stung his uvula. Still to this day he says that the whole ride back to town he thought he was going to die, that his throat was going to swell shut and he would suffocate. Thankfully it is a story we can laugh about.
My brother Clay got his first BB gun during one of the summers we spent at the farm. I say first, but I venture to guess it is the only gun he was allowed to have under my dad's roof for two reasons. One is that he shot one of the neighbor girls from a very far range - not thinking he could hit her. He shot her in the face, while she was on a horse. So while Clay had scarily good aim, he also didn't have a lick of BB gun ettiquette. Cut forward to the next weekend, as my dad was locking the barn to leave one day he noticed there was glass on the ground in front of the barn. He looked up and the lightbulb of the second story barn had been shot out. When he asked Clay if he knew who shot out the light, Clay without hesitating told him that our next door neighbor Steven that had spent the day at the farm with us did. Furious, my dad asked why Steven would do such a thing. My innocent, sweet little brother who was probably 12 years old responded simply "Because I missed"
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