A giant fish fry, 1980's hair bands, and .........the intrigue

I have told my kids I don't want a funeral. Two weeks after I die I want them to throw a huge fish fry. Lots of fried fish, coleslaw with lots of pepper, homemade mac and cheese. And Dr Pepper. Maybe Sprite for the weaklings. Play all the 80's hair bands, some Metallica, and of course Prince. I have a playlist of some songs I want

• You are my Sunshine from the O Brother soundtrack
• Enter Sandman by Metallica
• the Blippi song
• Drop the World by Little Wayne
• Whiskey Lullaby by Allison Krause
• Eye of the Tiger by Survivor
• Lost by Gorilla Zoe
• Girls Just Wanna Have Fun by Cyndi Lauper
• Fat Bottomed Girls by Queen

I want everyone to eat and reminisce. Tell ridiculous stories about things I did or said. Tell my truth, not platitudes.

 And then I want 2 dapper and well-dressed men to enter the gathering. These men are each about 30 years younger than me. 

They mingle quietly while staring daggers at each other.

After a while, each one tells a different tale that seemingly has nothing to do with the person my family perceived me to be. The tales make me be a character out of an espionage novel. Tell everyone how together we saved the world, several times.  One of them stomps his foot and declares that we became lovers during THE PANAMA INCIDENT!  The other man is shocked by this announcement and drops his food.  I want them to argue loudly over who was the love of my life. Then the men depart after telling my family they should be very proud of me.

My aunt Ann would drop her potato salad. Everyone would try to figure out what just happened. And what in the hell happened in Panama? 

Murderous thought of a lunch lady

    I worked in a Middle school lunchroom for three years. This was my first real job. I had just turned thirty. My youngest child was now in school. It was time to get a job. This was the hardest, dirtiest, and most unsafe job I ever worked. My body ached until after midnight every night.

  But, working in the lunchroom was one of my favorite jobs. The ladies I worked with were amazing. 90% of them were at least 25 years older than me. But, we were a team and knew how to get things done. Miss Jewell, my partner in crime, recently died. This hurt my soul. She taught me how to make 700 yeast rolls that people WANTED to eat. She taught me a lot. She was a kind woman, even though she told everyone exactly what she thought. I will always remember her fondly.

   Our group of ladies ran one of the better-run lunch rooms in the county. We made suggestions on how to make things run more efficiently and easier on us. Of course, our suggestions were always ignored. 

   There was an online threat made against the school.  Every entrance was locked down, except the lunchroom. We routinely kept our doors unlocked so we could accept deliveries. Every staff member was notified about the threats. Except for the lunchroom staff. We only found out when a teacher popped in during her free class period. We were amazed at the ignorance. The spot in the school where it would be easiest for any intruder to enter hadn't even crossed the administration's mind.

  But, my fellow lunch ladies were, and still are, some of the best people in the world.. We worried about the teachers, other support staff, and of course the students. We saw these people five days a week and got to know them. It felt like a family.

   But, as I said this was back-breaking and dirty work. One rule of the lunchroom was people were to stack their trays when returning them. Most did, and some didn't. It was always the same people who just slung their trays onto the counter. Spilling leftover food everywhere, especially splattering the lunch lady. This slowed things down and made a huge mess. The tray return was one of the hardest spots to work in the lunchroom. You had to move very quickly and efficiently or the line would run out of trays, silverware, and glasses. 

   On the days that I worked in the tray return area, I soothed my aggravation by imagining I was writing a book. A beloved senior was murdered on school grounds. It was a mystery. Who would want to kill sweet Jimmy Johnson?  Jimmy was in all the clubs, mentored students who needed help, he stood up to bullies. Just a great person.

  It was Blanche!?!?! The sixty-year-old lunch lady. What!?!?! Blanche taught Sunday School. She delivered Meals on Wheels. She knit blankets for every new baby in town. What could possibly have caused Blanche to do this??? Blanche was just exasperated that every school day since Jimmy started as a Freshman he slung his tray willy-nilly onto the counter. She had told him over and over to stop. He didn't listen. Blanche was tired of having half-eaten Jello or mashed potatoes slung on her every day.

   So make sure to be kind to any lunch ladies you come across. They are wonderful people. But, they may harbor dark thoughts about people who exhibit bad lunchroom behavior. So.....smile, call them by name, and ALWAYS STACK YOUR TRAYS!

   

Neighborhood Grandparents

    When I was five years old and my brother was two my dad was stationed in Korea for a year. My Uncle got shipped to Vietnam, My mom's parents owned a couple of acres of land. Everyone decided a good solution to the issue of helping both families was to put two trailers behind my grandparent's house. My mom, brother, and I were in one. My aunt and two cousins were in the other.

  It was wonderful for us kids. My grandfather had retired early for health reasons. He watched over us kids and we had a great time. We ran around all day playing in the dirt and enjoying having playmates. My grandfather usually wore overalls and an old straw hat. He always traveled with his collie dog, Mighty (pronounced Mawghty). Grandpa took us to the old, country store for ice cream. Many days he loaded all of us, and our friends, into a wagon hooked onto his tractor. He gave us so many good memories. He'd gather up piles of leaves and let us jump in the pile over and over. Our friend's parents knew their kids were always safe at our place. We all considered each other family.

   I have many memories of crawling around under the house trying to catch frogs for my cousin. D was one of my bestfriends. He loved all sorts of critters. He talked his mom into getting him guinea pigs, even though she was terrified of them. If they got loose she would call my grandpa to come to find them and put them back in the cage. 

   My grandpa would take us to school, pick us up, watch my baby brother, and do everything he could to make us happy. Grandpa would take all four kids and Mighty to the barbershop when he needed a haircut. I remember several times he'd pick up a hitchhiker. Grandpa was a kind man and helped out anyone that needed it.

    Several times when I was in high school I would see my Grandpa's old Rambler parked outside. I'd wonder what in the world is he doing here. He would be there to pick up one of our friends because they were sick. Or he'd be bringing them a change of clothes or homework they forgot. The friends knew all they had to do was call and he would be there in a flash.

   One summer I had to attend summer school. My cousin and brother also had to attend summer school. It was at separate schools. My grandpas would pick us up, take us to school, pick us up and drop us at our homes. The entire ride we were terrified because his driving had become erratic. Many days he would take us for lunch at Krystal's or Nu-way. These are still two of my favorite places to eat. 

  Every Saturday the family would gather for lunch. Most of the time my grandmother cooked. But, every few weeks she would get Barbeque and Brunswick Stew from the best BBQ place in the world, White Diamond Grill in Bonaire, Georgia. Even though it has been at least fifteen years since I ate food from White Diamond I can still taste it.

  This has mostly been about my grandpa. There is just so much to say about my grandma that her story will have to wait for another time. The time I spent with my grandparents was wonderful. I am so lucky that they were in my life. I can only hope that my grandchildren will remember me as fondly. 

My dad and the rabbit hole

My Dad and his theories

Hey Everyone! I'm going to talk about my dad and some of his theories. My dad is one of the smartest people I have ever met. If he’d had a good support system and been able to attend college I can't imagine how much he could have accomplished. I respect my dad more than just about anyone. He has a deep sense of honor. If he tells you that he will help you with something nothing will stop him from honoring that commitment, even if it causes trouble for him.

My dad was born into extreme poverty. One of his early memories is of his heavily pregnant mother working in the fields while his father sat in the car eating a candy bar and drinking a Coke. My dad and his sisters went to live with their Uncle and Aunt when their mom died. My dad was ten years old. My grandmother died because she lived in pre-Roe Vs Wade times. My father said before they lived with his Uncle and Aunt that he was always hungry and was never warm. A relative had to take him and his sisters to buy shoes for their mom’s funeral.

Dad joined the military as soon as he graduated from high school. He met and married my mom a few years later.

Jumping ahead about 20 years. As a young adult, I was in several Book of the Month Clubs. Every few weeks they sent out brochures with their recommendations. In 1987 I saw something that looked intriguing. A book by an author I followed. Whitley Strieber. This was a “non-fiction” book about his encounters with aliens. woo.

Little did I know that this would lead to a 15-20 year deep dive into every alien/shadow government theory for my dad. He was dealing with a lot. My mom was descending into extreme mental illness. She did not respond well to treatment. After Mom died my dad said it was like tap dancing on the edge of a razor blade for 30 years. He got very little sleep and still had to work to provide for them. So, he was not in the best place mentally. He needed something interesting to help him escape what was happening at home.

I read Communion and it blew me away. I gave it to my dad. We always shared interesting books. It took hold of him. We read everything we could find about alien encounters, abductions, etc. And there was a lot. Communion seemed to set off a chain reaction. Books, movies, and pop culture were obsessed with these alien abduction stories.

Dad was obsessed. We read Ed Walters's book The Gulf Breeze Sightings. Dad began listening to Chuck Harder’s webcasts. Chuck had just about every UFOologist, and conspiracy theorist on his show. If someone saw a strange light behind their Granny’s house after drinking moonshine they were probably on the show. Dad was introduced to theories on ancient astronauts, the Shadow Government, and the New World Order. He heard tales about governments across the world colluding with aliens to harvest and enslave humans, the Clinton conspiracies, and theories about The Royal Family. Every day Dad checked The Rense Report and The Drudge Report. Every link had to be clicked. Dad introduced all these stories to coworkers and friends.

After mom died and Dad’s every breathing moment was consumed by caring for her, Dad’s belief in the conspiracy theories/ alien abduction stories died down. They are still interesting. But, Dad realizes most of the theories are absurd.

Of course, Dad still doubts the existence of the World Trade Center. He has been to New York a few times and has never seen the Twin Towers. Of course, it was foggy or very rainy on those days. But, still. Dad still believes in Gaia, the Earth Mother, nurturer, the Soul of the Earth. He still believes in all the Clinton Conspiracies. But, mostly he likes reading about Big Foot, ghosts, cryptozoology, etc for escapist entertainment. I think this stuff is interesting. But, I don't really believe in any of it. But……..the Shadow Government theory. Hmmm. There may be something to that. But, maybe not.

There's a Monster in the Woods!

 #Green Eyes aka THE MONSTER OF COLLINS AVENUE

Hey everybody, I'm going to tell y'all a tale about The Monster of Centerville, Georgia.

Aka Green Eyes.

I consider Centerville, Georgia my hometown. My dad was in the military and we lived all over the place. But, we always came back to Centerville. My mom grew up there and her family was there. I have so many good memories of this place.

When I was a kid another child told us to never go outside after dark. Especially not alone. THERE ISA MONSTER IN THE WOODS she proclaimed. This monster was 7 feet tall, covered in white fur, and screeched like a banshee.

When I was a teen my friends and I would ride around after dark trying to find “Green Eyes” The green eyes were something my brother added to the story. He swore he'd seen Green Eyes about midnight on a dead-end road about a mile from my grandparents' house.

When I was a young adult an article appeared in the local paper about the “Bigfoot” stories of our neighborhood.

All this occurred in our neighborhood around Collins Avenue, right before the bridge at the bottom of the hill. Back then the area was still pretty rural.

*1965-66 a young couple was parked after their date. They saw a huge creature outside the windows of the car. It was walking upright and could not possibly be human, or any animal they knew of. They told friends and family about their encounter. No one believed them. But, they were steadfast about what they saw.

*early 1970s- a married couple were walking late at night. They saw something at the tree line. Thought it was an animal. It seemed to follow them, taking care to stay slightly hidden. The clouds shifted and they see the creature. It is covered in dark, glossy hair. The creature walked upright with long, graceful strides. When the couple moved toward it, the creature ran into the woods.

*A local man told a policeman that he had seen “Big Foot” in the woods two or three times. The policeman decide to see if he could find anything. No luck for several nights. Then he found a footprint. Too large to be human. Looked like a scuba diving fin with toes. The stakeouts continued. The policeman said he has never seen anything. But, he heard something. It was growling, snorting low rumble.

The day the article appeared my brother and I talked about it all day. We shared all the stories we had heard about “The Monster”. We scared ourselves pretty well and enjoyed ourselves immensely.

My husband was working late. Probably about 10 or 11 pm my brother and I heard a god-awful racket outside, sounded like something scraping against the side of the trailer. We were terrified, convinced that “ Green Eyes” had come to get us because we were talking about him. My husband arrived home a little while later. He found my brother and me scared to death and clutching baseball bats for protection.

I hope the kids that live in our old neighborhood have heard the stories and think twice about being outside after dark. Especially on a moonless night.

Don't tell abuse victims

 This is still relevant... We are fine..but, don't ever tell abuse victims that they should take care of the abuser. It took years to get out and stay out. But, we still run into people that say we should go back and take care of the monster. Hell no! Don't ask an abuse victim to go back into the situation. If the abuser has fallen on hard times it's their responsibility to make their life better. The victim usually spent months/years and all their energy trying to fix the abuser. It is so hard to leave an abuser. It takes a long time to gather the will to leave and decide that we deserve better. The abuse has taken its toll, physically and mentally. Possessions and friendships had to be left behind. We have left behind everything we worked so hard for. Worse is the fact that our self-respect is gone. It takes so long to get the spiderwebs out of our minds. The self-doubt the abuser put there takes a long time to get over. Some damage will never be repaired. Realizing that people are willing to accept the lies about you is hard. But, it is better to cut those people out of your life. If you are so worried about the abuser YOU take care of them. You have no idea of the hell we have been through. What's worse are the people that know of the abuse and excuse it. Even if we were wrong sometimes nothing excuses the torture we were put through. We do not have to justify ourselves to anyone. Remember this, an unreasonable person can't be reasoned with. A person can only be helped if they really want help. Some people enjoy playing the victim.

This is even more relevant right now. We have someone that has been trying to make us go back to take care of the abuser. Not happening. I told the person they can take the abuser into their home and leave us alone.

Books!

 Hey! I'm going to talk about books. Whenever we visited my grandmother she had paperback novels crammed into every nook and cranny. I mainly remember Mary Stewart, She developed the Romantic Mystery genre. Her main characters were smart women who found themselves in sticky and dangerous situations. I remember The Ivy Tree well. I read it until the pages fell out. She also had lots of books by Victoria Holt and Phyllis Whitney. I've always loved the Romantic mysteries with occasional spooky stuff. I read anything I could get my hands on. My dad had a hardback compilation of old Popular Mechanics magazines. I read them over and over. We had a 30-volume set of gold-edged Encyclopedia Britannica. I just opened a random page and began reading. I read Dad's Matt Helm books, Travis McGee, Ian Fleming, Remo Williams, Alistair MacLean, and lots of espionage novels.

The next book that grabbed me and forced me to read it over and over was Lorna Doone. It's a historical romance with many villainous characters and others who come in to save the damsel who is badly in need of help. I still have the books somewhere. My dad appropriated it from his high school library. I read it for the first time when I was 10. At the same time, I came across Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. This is another favorite.

Around this time I found The Gown of Glory. I really don't know why this book touched my soul so much. It was set in an 1881 small village. The book starts out with a young Calvinist preacher getting his first church. He and his new wife expect to move up to a bigger church anytime. This never happens. A wealthy young man stumbles across the small village and falls in love with the preacher's daughter. It was just a sweet book with an innocent feel.. I think it reminds me of my grandparents. My grandfather attended Mercer University and got a theology degree. Occasionally he preached. He always enjoyed battling the missionaries about religious history and doctrine. He was a good, kind-hearted person. Much like my grandmother.

Many of the early books I loved were set in Britain with adventurous heroines. I still prefer English mysteries and tv series.

As a kid, I loved fables, Pecos Bill, Paul Bunyan, and all the Dr. Dolittle books. I read all of them that the school library had. Louisa May Alcott was also a favorite. My mom subscribed to the Nancy Drew book club for me. Every month I got 2 books a month. I read all of Nancy’s adventures. I moved on to Trixie Belden, the Hardy Boys, and The Dana Girls. Once I became a teen my mom subscribed to the Romance book of the month club. Then Harlequin romance club.

As an adult, one of my greatest pleasures has always been to go to the library and check out the maximum amount of books. Agatha Christie, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. And any kind of mystery my small-town library had. I eventually moved on to other genres.

When got a job at our very small branch library I was in heaven. I read everything on the shelves. Didn't matter if it was something I was interested in or not. I just devoured it all. Histories about bands I didn't care about, humorous compilations, read all about Phenix City, Alabama. Man, you should look up the history of that town. Wooowhee.

And when our system joined the Statewide Library System I could get books from all over the state, and believe me. I did. I had pages of lists of books to borrow. It was a whole new world. I had the maximum 50 books checked out at all times. And the maximum 50 books on hold. I discovered noir, horror, good authors, bad authors, and authors who had great ideas but couldn't quite get them right.

I was very lucky. I had a group of patrons who trusted me to find books they would enjoy. It’s been over 10 years since I left my library. I occasionally see the obituary for one of my patrons, and it makes me sad. I remember our shared love of reading. I remember the stories they shared with me about their lives. I remember the friendship these wonderful people offered to me. I met some quirky, amazing, and wonderful people. I miss these people. I also met some pompous blow-hards. I don't miss them.

I researched genres that I didn't care about so that I could get books for my people.

Luckily the Young Adult books being published were really good. They connected to my readers. So many choices. The characters faced real-life problems. Divorce, homelessness, bad parents, drug use, sexual activity, sexual identity. Books that resonated with teens, not the picture-perfect books their parents wanted them to read. I tried to find books the kids wanted to read. Anything to ignite the fire in their soul. I checked out books from all over the state for my kids. I took their recommendations seriously. If my kids liked them I tried to get the books for my library.

Books gave me comfort and solace when I needed them. A refuge from the storms life threw at me. I learned about other cultures. I absorbed so much from reading. I didn't go to college. I would love a degree in literature or just a good liberal arts education. But, I have learned so much from my books. My college-educated colleagues were amazed at the things I knew. Things outside of my limited life experience. How do you know what an Au Pair is? Agatha Christie, of course. How did you hear about poutine? A novel of course. What's a Furry? How did you know that? You really don't want to know.

They respected my knowledge of books and let me be in charge of advising patrons on reading material. It was a true joy to talk books with people that loved to read. There was some major drama at the library. But, it was the best job I ever had. When I started this I thought I would recommend some books that resonated with me. But, that will have to wait.

Read a book. Find something that sets fire to your imagination.

Car Rider Lines and My Blood Pressure

 Hey! I”m Lola. I’m going to talk about whatever pops into my head. Don’t expect it to make sense.

Maybe I'll talk about my kids, life as a stay-at-home Grandma, and books that I love ( or hate), movies my oldest son has forced me to watch, Ahem Southland Tales. I know I’m going to talk about my lifelong love affair with books. Thanks to my Mom, Dad, and Grandmother. We usually didn’t live near a library. So, I had to read whatever was around. I read my Grandmother’s gothic mysteries, and my dad’s spy and espionage novels. Lots of Mary Stewart, Matt Helm, James Bond, Leon Uris, and various Harlequin Romances. 

Maybe I’ll talk about aliens, conspiracies, the “Shadow Government”, and other weird things. 

I enjoy Dr. Pepper, cats, and books. So, I think I’ve established my bonafides as a middle-aged, grey-headed Granny. Or as the kiddos call me, Nonni.

I ramble. Get used to it. If I say something wrong please let me know. I make mistakes. Lots of mistakes. But, I love my kids, grandkids, and the few friends who have stuck with me through some tough times. I love oddball people. They make life enjoyable. Who wants to be the same as everyone else?

So, let’s talk about the 1 thing that will make my blood boil. The school car rider line. People who do not follow proper car rider line etiquette anger me more than just about anything. The kids have heard more curse words due to the car rider line than anything else. You can ask my DIL, I fuss about people doing stupid and inconsiderate things in the car rider line more than anything. Many a night I’d start a story and DIL asked, “ Car rider line?” of course it was the car rider line. I have felt pure rage at the miscreants who wait until they are at the front of the line to make sure their kids have all their stuff, fix their hair, or stop to get OUT of the car and open the door to usher their precious child to the sidewalk. This holds up the 30 cars patiently (or in my case impatiently) waiting behind them. If all this needs to be done a parent is supposed to park in the other parking lot to take care of last-minute nonsense. I have told the kids that if I ever get my butt whipped it will be due to car ride line shenanigans. One day I will just blow my top because a repeat offender has stopped the entire car rider line for 5 minutes while she chats aimlessly with her BFF in the car next to her. I can tell if the person causing problems is a Grandma/Grandpa who has no idea how everything works. I give them a pass. We were all new to this at one time.

A car rider line that ones smoothly is a beautiful thing. Everyone drops off or picks up their kids quickly and it flows like a beautiful ballet. There aren’t unnecessary delays and everyone respects the line.

I have found a line that runs with military precision. There are about 12 staffers that work to make sure everything goes smoothly. The only problem I have seen is when a car breaks down. Now, that causes a mess. The line is a serpentine path to the front of the school. So, there is no escape. But, this also means there is no way for people to cut in line.

 

One day in Texas I became so enraged at a line cutter that I called the office and told them exactly what the line cutter did. The front office lady ( who I talked to frequently) was shocked at the person’s brazen behavior and we talked major trash about her. The procedure was to pull up to a designated line and wait. A line formed behind the 1st car. The line already had about 12 cars waiting. BAD BRAZEN MOM passed all of us on the left. She went past the 1st car and then backed up so she was the 1st car. She did this 2 days in a row. I blasted this offense all over the neighborhood Facebook group. I had pictures of her car and license plate but didn’t post them. Other parents joined in the cacophony of fury at bad car rider behavior. On the 3rd day, a policeman was waiting at the car rider line. I’m sure he was there to make sure Brazen Moms behaved and to protect her from a group of pissed-off moms. I guess someone told her of the outrage she was causing. For over a week either someone else picked up her kid or she used a different car.

I truly feel there is a special place in hell for the people who abuse the car rider line. Right there next to the people who lie about overdue library books.