Pocketbook Full Of Blessings

I have heard them called a purse, a pocketbook, a hand bag. I know certain ones come along with a name of a celebrated designer and can cost more than some dental work I have endured. They can be colorful and be meant to match a handful of outfits. They can be practical and meant to be a ready place to keep things needed for the carrier or the carrier's group.

My Mom always carried one. It held car keys, a checkbook, four or five pens, chewing gum, cough drops and usually some type of other over-sized wallet that held cash, photos, cards, change and other things. I recall the days when she wore one with a shoulder strap. I remember other ones that she just carried on her arm or in her hand.

My wife's purses are another matter. They have much of the same functionality from another time. Still, now, sometimes hers has her phone. It often has things that our daughter needs, a comb or hairbrush, a tablet to draw or write in, hair bows and sometimes a small stuffed animal.

Our daughter has a purse or two of her own. As I write this I am looking at one of them. It is slightly bigger than a paperback book. It has various colors in some pattern I cannot quite explain, blue, green, purple and pink. It has a tan-colored strap. I discovered the other night how it can hold a lot of different things.

After she had taken a bath, Hannah was ready for bed. She often comes to me for a hug before heading off to sleep. A few nights ago, she followed this ritual this time while carrying her purse. She then proceeded to open each compartment to show me what each one held.

I have long been curious about the things she holds on to, tiny treasures to her that capture a bit of her personality to us. When she was younger, we often had to stop while she searched out a rock to carry home with her. When I would clean out my car, I ran across rocks, feathers, loose change and various small toys or knick-knacks she for some reason considered worthy enough to retain.

On this particular night, she began emptying each compartment. Here were some coins. Here was a tiny plastic toy. Here was a shiny, slick rock. Here was some chapstick. There were other items I can't recall at the moment. I just remember marveling at the things she values and being grateful she cared enough to share the moment, and a bit of who she is, and who she is becoming, with me.

Missing A Friend

It has been a few months since I heard the bad news that a friend of ours passed away. When I moved to Chattanooga I met him and his lovely wife through church. I soon learned he was a wise man when it came to explaining things in the Bible. It wasn't much longer before I also learned he lived out what he had learned through the Bible.

When I began to date Jennifer, he and his wife became some of our major supporters. I then learned my friend was wise with advice and willing to share. I tried to heed his advice because when he dispensed advice it never came across heavy-handed or haughty. It always seemed genuine and straight from his heart.

We trusted this friend. When it came time to plan our wedding we knew he needed to play a part. We asked him if he would offer a prayer during a ceremony. He was thrilled. He came through with a simple but powerful petition. Later, after a few years of marriage, we turned to this friend for help in another matter. He sold us life insurance. We both wanted to make sure the other was taken care of in case something bad happened to the other. This friend found the right policy helping us out in a time of a major decision.

When Hannah was born, more advice was dispensed to me from this man, a father, and by this time in his life, a grandfather. I never knew his children but I know others who do. These others stamped a seal of approval on the job our friend and his wife did with raising their children. That was enough for me to listen when he shared advice on raising children.

One evening, our friend told us he and his wife were moving. Both had retired. Their children lived in other cities. They wished to be nearer their family. We understood this, yet, we both realized a deep sadness that our friends would soon be living elsewhere.

And, away, they went. We saw them a few times over the years. We were always welcomed with warm, sturdy hugs and smiling faces. We were always questioned with a deep concern how we were really handling life, marriage and parenting.

When I write this our friend has been gone for several months. I thought about him today. I remembered one time we had seen them at Logan's Roadhouse. Our friend had some health issues and needed to watch what he ate. He had told me that would likely visit me one day, too. On this day at the restaurant, he asked me what I had ordered. I don't recall what I ordered that day other than it wasn't beef or steak. He looked at me, gave me a grin and told me I should always eat a steak or hamburger at a place that specializes in such, even when faced with possible dietary restrictions. I feel safe to say he told this to me outside of earshot of my wife and his wife. We joked about that for years. I even tell some people I feel as if I betray my friend if I go into a steakhouse and not order beef in some form or fashion.

So, today, we had lunch at Logan's Roadhouse. I thought about my friend a lot while there especially when I tried to determine what to order. I sure do miss him. I wish he were here now so I could tell him, "Fred, I had a burger for you today."

Road Trip: A Mall, A Wal-Mart Before Wal-Mart and Burgers, Fries and a Shake

Another road trip I recall from my younger days happened a time or two a year. Much like some of the other trips remembered so far, me, my mom and dad and an aunt and uncle hopped into a car on a Sunday afternoon but these times we drove northwest to Cleveland, TN. Cleveland is located about half an hour east of Chattanooga. From our Georgia home, it was probably about 50 miles to Cleveland. The trip though took over an hour usually because of a stretch of Highway 64 we always called the River Road. Some call it the Old Copper Road since it was the road that led  into the copper mining town of Copperhill. We called it the River Road because it rested down deep in a valley beside the Ocoee River. That stretch of road is curvy and dangerous. Trucks have to drive it slower and those who are not native to the area drive it slower. Most natives respect it enough to tap their brakes once or twice during the ride. All this causes the drive time to be extended.

A few times each year, we went to Cleveland. Usually when we went there we went to the Village Mall. For those of us from a sleepy Georgia mountain town, this mall seemed like the largest place in the whole world. Usually, we visited Kresge's. Kresge's seemed to be a good spot for our group of five to begin. They had enough variety that each of us could spend some time there before venturing off  into other directions. While the Village Mall was like a city unto itself, my memory doesn't stretch far back enough to recall a lot of details about the other places there. I do recall the mall had a downstairs floor that housed a bowling alley. There were times we bowled a few games while there.

Another place we visited in Cleveland was near this mall. If I recall it was across the street a bit. It was a store called Gibson's. From what I recall Gibson's could be likened to today's Wal-Mart. They seemed to have everything from groceries to clothing under one roof. There are two vivid memories I have about two separate road trips to this Gibson's in Cleveland.

The first was in cold weather. I recall walking down a wide open aisle toward the food section of the store. As I looked in that direction, I saw a man in heavy clothing. What startled me though was he had a weird cap on his head. Now today I would recognize that cap as some sort of pilot's cap. Back then though in my tender years I don't ever recall seeing anyone wear such a cap. When I saw this man stride down the aisle in the clothing and the cap, which I though was some sort of mask, I just knew the store was being robbed. I thought how we were a group of plain ordinary country people who had gone to the big city to do a bit of browsing and shopping only to walk into a robbery in progress. I relayed my concerns to someone in our group who quickly set me straight how the man in the weird clothes was not in disguise but was just probably looking for some decent looking porkchops at a fair price. Their confidence made me realize this man was in no way there to terrorize the employees and customers of the friendly neighborhood Gibson's.

The second incident at Gibson's involved my aunt and uncle's car. I don't recall the model year of the car but looking at pictures on-line I tend to believe it was either a 1966 or 1967 model Plymouth Satellite. It was yellow. We referred to it as "the Lemon," although it always seemed to be a very dependable car for my aunt and uncle. I remember the console between the front bucket seats. My aunt and uncle were major country music fans, so this car had a modern eight-track tape player which complimented the AM radio quite well. My uncle dressed his car out with shiny chrome wheels. He washed it often making it shine and sparkle every time you saw it.

Outside of my brother's deep blue Plymouth Barracuda, "the Lemon" was my favorite car. I have no idea how it ran, no clue about gas mileage or oil usage. All I knew was it looked cool.

One summer afternoon, me, Mom, Dad and my aunt and uncle got into "the Lemon" then drove to Cleveland. One of our stops was at Gibson's. I don't recall much about the trip until we were ready to leave Gibson's. My uncle was an auto mechanic. He more than knew his way around a car. We walked out of the store. I spotted "the Lemon" off by itself in the parking lot. I took off in a mad dash to be the first to the car not really realizing the adults were not about to take off in an effort to get to the car before me. I remember getting there and the windows to the car were down. It was summer so it was hot. It was also the 1970s when you could trust leaving your windows rolled down. I don't recall thinking how I should not open the door to the car so I did anyway. When I opened the door, my uncle's homemade alarm was triggered and the car's horn blared throughout the parking lot. I do remember turning around to see my uncle running frantically toward his car in an effort to quiet the alarm. At that point I remembered how I had done this before on other trips and knew better. Between these two trips to Gibson's, I am not sure we were welcomed back there.

Usually on our way home from Cleveland, we stopped at a burger joint just outside town called the Shake Shack. This place is still in operation now although I am not sure if it is still under the same ownership. Each time I drive by there now I recall times when we ate there. Although they do have indoor dining, we usually ate in our car. You could walk up to a window and place your order or someone would come to your car to take your order. This was during a time when eating out was more a novelty than a way of life, so each stop for burgers, fries and milkshakes was special.

After this, we pulled away from Cleveland headed down by the Ocoee River in the days before it became a must-visit for whitewater fans. We drove the snaky curves in the shadows of the mountains. My uncle, who often was on call for wrecker trips on this stretch of road, shared stories from time-to-time of those who did not respect the twists and turns of the River Road. Soon enough if we were in "the Lemon", my uncle pulled into our upper driveway. We exited the car. Usually, I watched in amazement, how my uncle did not use a spot by a walnut tree to turn his car around instead choosing to back his car up the driveway into a the drive's curve then out into the highway before pulling away. I watched him do that dozens of times over the years and it always amazed me. As they drove away, I usually stood there waving at them wondering when the next road trip would happen and where it would take me.

Road Trip: A Mall, A Wal-Mart Before Wal-Mart and Burgers, Fries and a Shake playlist:

Raspberries "Drivin' Around"

Joe Ely "If You Were A Bluebird"

Waylon Jennings and Jessi Colter "Storms Never Last"

Johnny Rodriquez "We Believe In Happy Endings"

The Wreckers "Tennessee"

Daryl Hall and John Oates "Abandoned Luncheonette"

Starbuck "Moonlight Feels Right"

The Doobie Brothers "Rockin' Down The Highway"

Steve Miller Band "Take The Money And Run"

Ronny and the Daytonas "Bucket T"

Hoyt Axton "Boney Fingers"

Margo Price "Tennessee Song"