Day Three Hundred Fifteen 2013

Happy Veterans Day to all the men and women, past and present, who serve this country in the armed forces and keep America the land of the free and the home of the brave.

Day Three Hundred Fourteen 2013

My Aunt Joy Brown, who will celebrate her 99th birthday on December 4, is a legend in her hometown of Gainesboro, which is located in Jackson County in Middle Tennessee. Many years ago, she handmade this Uncle Sam costume, from the hat on down to the trousers, as one of the outfits she wore to tap-dance in for the family at Christmas get togethers. Apparently, she is a born entertainer. Folks in town found out about her costume and asked her to appear at patriotic events. So she memorized a poem called ‘That Ragged Old Flag’, written by Johnny Cash, to recite on those patriotic occasions. She’s been doing this for almost two decades now. Today we attended the Veterans’ Day program in Gainesboro, and once again, Aunt Joy wore her Uncle Sam costume and recited, flawlessly, that poem [to a standing ovation afterward]. I certainly admire her tenacity and can only hope my mind is still as sharp as hers if I live to be 99.

Uncle Sam [a.k.a. Aunt Joy] and the veterans of Jackson County, Tennessee. Thank you, one and all, for your service to your country.

                 THAT RAGGED OLD FLAG

I walked through a county courthouse square,
On a park bench an old man was sitting there.
I said, "Your old courthouse is kinda run down."
He said, "Naw, it'll do for our little town."
I said, "Your flagpole has leaned a little bit,
And that's a Ragged Old Flag you got hanging on it.    

He said, "Have a seat", and I sat down.
"Is this the first time you've been to our little town?"
I said, "I think it is." He said, "I don't like to brag,
But we're kinda proud of that Ragged Old Flag." 

"You see, we got a little hole in that flag there
When Washington took it across the Delaware.
And it got powder-burned the night Francis Scott Key
Sat watching it writing _Oh Say Can You See_.
And it got a bad rip in New Orleans
With Packingham and Jackson tuggin' at its seams." 

"And it almost fell at the Alamo
Beside the Texas flag, but she waved on through.
She got cut with a sword at Chancellorsville
And she got cut again at Shiloh Hill.
There was Robert E. Lee, Beauregard, and Bragg,
And the south wind blew hard on that Ragged Old Flag." 

"On Flanders Field in World War I
She got a big hole from a Bertha gun.
She turned blood red in World War II
She hung limp and low by the time it was through.
She was in Korea and Vietnam.
She went where she was sent by her Uncle Sam." 

"She waved from our ships upon the briny foam,
And now they've about quit waving her back here at home.
In her own good land she's been abused --
She's been burned, dishonored, denied and refused." 

"And the government for which she stands
Is scandalized throughout the land.
And she's getting threadbare and wearing thin,
But she's in good shape for the shape she's in.
'Cause she's been through the fire before
And I believe she can take a whole lot more." 

"So we raise her up every morning,
Take her down every night.
We don't let her touch the ground
And we fold her up right.
On second thought I DO like to brag,
'Cause I'm mighty proud of that Ragged Old Flag."

                          ~Written by Johnny Cash

Day Three Hundred Thirteen 2013

One of our upstairs bedrooms [guess it’s a good thing daughter Kelly doesn’t live here anymore] has temporarily become my hubs Neil’s RC airplane hangar. He is emptying out his shed [man cave] that houses all manner of guy stuff ~ tools and woodworking thingies and airplane paraphernalia, plus a whole lot of junk we’ve held on to that should’ve been tossed out decades ago, not to mention critters that believe it’s a nifty place to call home. He built the shed back in the eighties [I think] using wood from an old barn somebody let him take apart and haul off. The shed looks like a barn and was pretty neat back then. But time and termites and critters have taken their toll, and it has become a hazard to be inside it. The floor has caved in where Neil stands in various spots when he’s working on his planes, and the ceiling beams are starting to bow. So it’s going to come down soon and will be replaced with a brand new and much larger building that he’s going to order from a local dealer. In the meantime, the planes [and this isn’t even all of them] are snug as a [temporary] bug in a rug.

Day Three Hundred Twelve 2013

Random Pics Of Autumn Beauty And Blessings From The Week That Was ~ HAPPY TGIF!













Is not this a true autumn day? Just the still melancholy that I love — that makes life and nature harmonize. The birds are consulting about their migrations, the trees are putting on the hectic or the pallid hues of decay, and begin to strew the ground, that one's very footsteps may not disturb the repose of earth and air, while they give us a scent that is a perfect anodyne to the restless spirit. Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.    
~George Eliot, letter to Miss Lewis, 1st October 1841

Day Three Hundred Eleven 2013

“I made it with my bare hands,” said Grandson Elijah this afternoon after school as he answered my question about how he made this fabulous artwork owl.

No scissors or pre-cut strips of paper or even a pre-drawn outline. He fashioned his owl with strips of paper he tore with his bare hands. I thought that was such a cute way to describe his process. Good job, Elijah!