I have lots of things to say about yesterday. I plan to open a blog today to get it all out of me, & will share the link as soon as I have it.
For now, it will have to be enough for me to say that the outpouring of generosity from ALL OVER AMERICA is something special. I moved chicken cages with a local friend, Donna Parton, a teenager from Georgia, & two guys from Knoxville. One of them had a broken arm but he was still helping.
I moved hay that was donated by a man from Jamestown with one of my old co-workers. His wife has manned the fairgrounds tirelessly since the county made the decision to open it to displaced animals.
Thank you David Majors for answering my tears & pleading with a MUCH NEEDED fork machine. And Gary was a welcome sight.
Thank you Co-op. It’s good to know people in the right places. Thank you Leanne Anke for taking the evacuated horses back to their home on your day off.
Thanks to the businesses who are donating their people, their products, & their dollars towards this catastrophic incident. Food City had sent a tractor trailer full yesterday, Borden Dairy another, & I didn’t catch the names of several others in & out.
I spoke with a gentleman at the Rescue Squad that Lisega (the new factory on Dumplin Valley Road in Kodak) had sent on their dime to work. Lots of local restaurants are keeping these volunteers fed. And fed well–I saw Krispy Kreme boxes but somehow missed their contents. Cyndie and Kay I hope you can stay sane. If not, we can go decompress again. I’m always game for that.
I swept floors & moved tables & sorted supplies with people whom I was too busy to get their stories. We laughed & we cried & we worked.
I directed volunteers & people with donations & loaded a truck for a pregnant girl who had been sent to get dog food from a hotel with guests that had been through hell with their pets. I teared up again & again as people who didn’t look like they had a dime handed over bags of supplies & the occasional envelope.
I reunited with old customers of mine who were there to lend a hand.
We were all there to help & our hearts were of one purpose. It was good to be together & safe.
Show up somewhere today if you can. I don’t know what you’ll be doing, but it will change your life & your heart, I will promise you that.
~Sevier County Fairgrounds, 752 Old Knoxville Highway Sevierville
~Sevier County Rescue Squad, 1171 Dolly Parton Parkway, Sevierville
~old Boyds Bears location, 149 Cates Lane, Pigeon Forge
~The Barker Lounge/ Pets Without Parents might also appreciate volunteers.
~New Hope on 66, (2450 Winfield Dunn Parkway, Kodak) needs help sorting & delivering to Boyds Bears. They are not a part of the Red Cross effort & all supplies are staying in the county.
~Leconte Landing (where the news has been stationed, Teaster Lane) is being run by Red Cross I do believe.
Postscript: I laugh as I think of a comment I heard yesterday: “I guess the red cross knows where to have their next disaster.”
Yeah. It’s like that. And a lady I met with the Humane Society opened up to me a little & said she had a family member in another state that was willing to house horses. Of course I thanked her & ticked off five or six of my personal friends in the county who had already offered. She kinda cocked her head & smiled a little & said, “That’s right. Y’all take care of your own, don’t you?”
I stood a little prouder & smiled.
#smokiesstrong #proudtobeatennesseevolunteer
Wanna feel better about yourself? Here’s what I’ve done today:
Read twenty pages of my book. Borrrring.
Sprayed oven with cleaning kill-you-in-a-can chemicals.
Put out one box of Christmas decorations before calling it quits. I’ve decided I don’t feel up to dusting this holiday season. (Don’t worry, I’m still participating in Christmas, just not on as grand a scale as we’re all accustomed). Wondered why Pandora was so long in the making. I believe it’s one of the best things to come into my life, ever.
Had a two lively conversation with two old friends.
Ate one platter full of leftovers.
Retired to couch.
Wondered how it got to be three o’clock with me not accomplishing jack squat.
Bought a piece of Lularoe. A navy Sarah. It proved to be quite elusive in the finding.
Played the addictive game “Two dots” until I ran out of lives. That’s the only reason I’m on here now, I can’t play any more. I even watched the three musketeers video to get a bonus life.
Wonder if elves will come clean my oven if I take a nap.
Now. Don’t y’all feel productive with all your running around?
Mothers teach us all sorts of things. From the very beginning, they’re teaching us nonstop. They teach us how to walk, how to feed ourselves, how to treat the dog. As we grow older, the lessons get more complicated from the simple “No!” to how to read, write, & tie our shoes. We recognize danger, thanks to the values instilled at every turn (lots of treacherous stuff out there in the world). Before long, the complicated life decisions over which friends are suitable & what grades are passable are upon us. (Although Sevier County School Systems deem a “C” passable, the school of Jody did NOT). We might have to have several lessons more than once.
We learn when to push our luck & when to say I’m sorry. They show us unconditional love.
My mother decided to teach me about Indians early on.
The only thing that separated our house from the school was our cow pasture & pine thicket. The band practiced relentlessly throughout the summer & when we were outside together, the drums would beat ominously & I would shiver & shake with the resonating thumps. Of course I asked my momma what it was.
“The Indians are coming to get you,” she answered solemnly every time. This never failed to send me running back into the house, lest the Indians thunder in on their painted horses & scoop me up & carry me away.
That’s not all momma taught me about the Indians. Upon discovery of my belly button, I stuck my finger in it (duh) & asked what it was, like all kids do.
Now, I don’t know how many mothers will go into the facts of life right then & there, but my mother did not.
“That’s where the Indian shot you,” she explained.
My mother had effectively taught me to be terrified of Indians.
Now, for those of you who know her, know that my mother touts her Cherokee heritage regularly (she is as dark skinned as I am fair. I’m reasonably sure I fell off the turnip truck & she took pity on me). Mom has always loved the village just across the mountain. I was about five years old the first time she ever took me. I don’t remember much about the visit, but there is a photograph that was taken for posterity. I’m there, in front of a teepee, in my little blue velour short set showing my chubby knees, with my fists pressed to my eyes, quite clearly squalling my heart out. There is a somber “Chief” behind me, decked out in his finest orange & yellow feather headband, clearly at a loss at what to do with this child who seems to be sure she is facing certain death.
I don’t know what all mistakes other parents make but I’d say mom had second thoughts that day about why she told me what she had about the drums & my belly button.
It’s not easy being a mom.
Especially when you’re mine, & anything you do is liable to be written about for all the Facebook world to see.
On your BIRTHDAY!!!!!!
Happy Birthday mom. Sorry you had to work all day. Maybe someday I’ll sell all these stories from my childhood & we can put you on a boat so big you won’t even know you’re on the water. Until then, we’ll just have to keep on keepin’ on.
Pageturner’s Book Selection November
About a Girl by Lindsey Kelk
I’ll admit I groaned when this one was announced. I thought I was above reading chick lit—British chick lit, at that—in my ripe old age. But obviously, I have forgotten how much fun it is!
It’s pretty much the story of any up-and-coming girl in the city. Girl has entry-level advertising job, where she is desperate to advance. Girl is secretly in love with her best guy friend for going on ten years. Girl works her fingers to the bone with ad agency only to be made “redundant” & let go. Girl is now without purpose & is sitting on a park bench in London, all ‘woe-is-me’ when a Nazi sympathizer tries to rob her, only to learn she has nothing to rob. Not even a phone. Nazi sympathizer converts to Tess sympathizer & gives her the latest phone he’s ripped off somebody. At least now she has a phone. Girl goes home to the apartment she shares with Satan’s mistress, Vanessa, to drown more sorrows with her girl BFF, Amy, & biscuits (read: cookies. We’re in England, you knockers). The trio of besties go to Tess’s parents for a family function, girl gets blind drunk & snogs boy best friend…and more…& boy best friend morphs into a wanker afterwards. Girl’s mother is mortified that she lost her job, slept with Charlie, & got plastered in public. Girl is now rejected thrice.
But we’re only getting warmed up. Fortunately, we don’t have to endure dreary London long. We soon jet-set to Hawaii & are off to drink tropical frozen concoctions with a sex god. I’m telling you, it doesn’t get better than this. The girl is laugh-out-loud funny and completely relatable. You will not regret indulging in this. It is wholly enjoyable to any female who needs an escape. Best part? It’s a trilogy! Oh, happy days.
A Book That’s More Than 600 Pages
The Witching Hour by Anne Rice
Well, I reckon. Coming in at 965 pages in my hardbound 1990 version, with smallish print, I do believe this is the longest novel I’ve ever read.
Of course I’m proud of myself. This is like the New York Marathon for book dragons like me! Up till this point, my greatest literary accomplishment was Gone With the Wind, or maybe The Goldfinch. The heft of this book set it apart from either of those. I’ve heard wonderful things about Anne Rice’s works, & this seemed like the perfect spooky October read.
Unfortunately, it took much longer than the two weeks I allocated. More like four. But it was so worthwhile. As lengthy books are wont to do, it sucked me right into the history of these Mayfairs. Upon learning this is a trilogy, I kinda wanted to poke my eye out because I knew there would be many mysteries left unsolved. And when you read a book of this caliber, you want to know ALL THE THINGS.
Don’t let the size intimidate you. It’s sweeping in an unpretentious language. It provides a beautiful description of New Orleans. The middle third of the book takes place overseas, hundreds of years ago, so you don’t get stagnant waiting on things to happen. Mrs. Rice provides an entire rich history of these generations of women, who traded healing powers for demon worship & enormous wealth. But they all learned, one by one, you can’t outsmart the devil. And he only wants one thing: to grow stronger.
So there’s all these characters, all with these lives spanning several centuries, & it is advisable to make an intricate family tree as you read because you will find yourself referring to it repeatedly (you can thank me later). Some of the Mayfairs you’ll love, & some you’ll want to destroy yourself. None are what they seem. You’ll have favorite (if it’s not Stella, we can’t be friends). It doesn’t get too wicked & gruesome until almost the end, & by then it’s too late—you have no hopes of putting it away now. Look how far you’ve come!
This book is a representation of true talent & creativity and the snaring capability of a magnificent novel. Bravo, Anne Rice. Bravo.
