The Great Purge and Restoration

September 1 was the great purge; the migration of the spring clothes to the attic. No longer is my closet filled with white, pink, light green, yellow and baby blue clothes. These are replaced with the bright browns, greens, and oranges. I hoped bringing them forth from the attic would somehow hasten the coming of cooler weather. I can always hope.

The spring clothes have been blessed for their long winter's hibernation, folded neatly, and placed in their tubs. The tubs have been returned to their resting place. And like cocoons, when I open those tubs next mid March I will find those bright colors. They will cheer me up and remind me that spring is coming with its warm weather. (I know, be careful what you wish for.) 

As I piled up the spring and summer clothes, I remembered the expert advice (from someone on some  TV show - based in the unreality zone)  - "If you haven't worn it in a year - toss it." Convincing myself that I really don't  have any sentimental attachment to many of these threads, I considered this as I packed up the spring clothes. There were shirts, skirts, and summer sweaters that I have to admit I have not worn in a year (or 2). So I threw these on a pile to be "tossed". As I sorted, folded, unfolded, hung up and removed from hangers, the "tossed" pile  steadily grew.

This year I noticed a change in my clothes. I took them from their storage containers, laid them on my bed, and examined them for any holes (those pesky moths) or stains. Then I tried a few of the skirts on just to lighten my spirits. Alas, instead of the thrill of new clothes (well new to me - I have a short memory) it was the agony of tight zippers. Something had caused my skirts to shrink. They seemed to be a size smaller. Horrors! The same thing had happened with my pants. It was the case for all of them. 

I thought back, over the many years this had never happened. How could the elements effect my clothes this year but not in years past. Then it dawned on me, the obvious, the elements had not effected my clothes, the elements had effected me. Mid life had taken its toll. Those three pounds had settled in an unfortunate place. And it was not pretty. 

My motto has always been when my clothes got too tight it was time to lose weight not buy new clothes. This was my sign. Well, this was my sign to either lose weight or adjust my motto. 

For now, my fall and winter clothes are neatly placed in the closet, organized by color. Yes, for several weeks I will be anal enough to keep that system going. After that I will question the wisdom of that folly. Whatever. Today my closet is full of fall colors that mirror the hues of fall leaves. 

As I put the final spring clothes in their tubs, I looked at the pile to be discarded. Seeing a tub only half full, I just threw the unwanted clothes in it and sealed the top. I put it away with the other tubs, all the same color and size. I'll deal with "tossing" clothes next spring - what did that "expert" know after all. She/He must not be from the south, because down here we "toss" very little. We hold onto everything as if the spirits of family members who predecease us will rise from the grave and haunt us for abandoning our past. 

The Funds are in Your Account

 I may be a lot of things but (hopefully) stupid is not one of them. For instance, every once in a while I have some item I need to depart with. Often I list them on eBay. This was one such case.

In changing cell carriers, naturally I was required to buy a new phone, since my old phone (which was brand new) was on a different network. Knowing the phone was in excellent (almost new) condition and I still had the original box with the unused charger inside, I thought it would be perfect to resell. So I listed it and the fun began.

I had a buyer very quickly. But within a day he emailed to say he needed to cancel the purchase, since it was a gift for his son and he needed it sooner. I accepted the cancellation. Only a few minutes later I had another buyer. Within a few hours I was getting barraged with texts from the buyer asking questions about the item  and wanting pictures (which were not an issue except all the questions and photos were clearly shown and answered in the original listing). 

Then he requested overnight delivery via FedEx or UPS with an address to some "Unit" on "Zip Industrial Blvd" in Atlanta. He said he would offer $150 extra for the overnight shipping.  No problem, I do this often. I prepared the overnight shipment through UPS and advised him of the cost, which was much less than $150. Then he wanted to know how quickly I could get it to the shipper. And, he wanted a copy of the confirmation of shipping ASAP. Knowing I had most of the day to make the shipping deadline, I found this odd.

The texts continued. If I did not reply immediately, there would be a ? mark or another text "Are you there?" Then came a phone call. Due to his broken English I could not understand what he was saying and asked that he text me the request. The text came. He wished I include a $500 AmEx gift card in the box as a birthday present to his son in addition to the phone. (Note: 1st cancelled sale was also a gift.) Here's your sign!

When I immediately replied that I could not do that, his response was "OK". I then reminded him that I still had not received confirmation of his payment. That would be required before shipment - Duh! 

It was only a few minutes later that he responded he had paid eBay through Paypal. He said I should receive confirmation emails from both parties . . . and to check my spam folder, they may be there. Here's the 2nd sign.

Surprise! Surprise! The emails were in my spam folder - imagine that. And they asked that I provide the UPS shipping confirmation before payment could be released. I noted, there was odd syntax and spelling in the emails, although both looked quite convincing with all the "Official" eBay and Paypal graphics. However, checking my Ebay and Paypal accounts, neither was showing a pending payment.

I advised him that I had the emails, and was awaiting the "pending" notifications in either account. He quickly replied that these were new policies by eBay and Paypal to prevent fraud and that I needed to confirm shipment first. By now I was tired of this non-sense. He was not getting the phone. But the game continued. The next text from him said that the funds had been deducted from his Paypal account so I could proceed with the shipping. (The check's in the mail and I'll respect you n the morning.)

I, once again, advised him that neither of my accounts were showing a "pending" payment. (All the while I was the false emails to the fraud departments as eBay and Paypal.) He asked me to check again, which I did several times within the following hour (all the while refreshing my screen to ensure I did not miss an update.) Finally, I advised him the order would be cancelled and I was contacting both Paypal and eBay to get more information on this "new" security practice.

His response - "Ok"

In going to eBay and looking up the buyer, I saw that the account was opened the day of the purchase. Was it P.T. Barnum who said, "There's a sucker born every minute"? Maybe so, but not this time. Let us review here. A $500 gift card from AmEx -seriously! If I was not a frequent seller on eBay and was not aware of their policies, as well as those of Paypal, I could have fallen down that rabbit hole. The syntax and poor grammar in the emails were issues. As was both being sent to the spam folder given I have very established accounts with both eBay and Paypal.

But, being a good southern girl, I did not want to offend Ayide, so I went further with this insanity than I should have. And to think his poor son will not be getting the phone or the gift card for his birthday.  Now as for the grand lottery prize I have won, if I will just send several thousand dollars, to release the funds or the Society of What's Happening Now that only a needs several hundred dollars to feed the children with leprosy in India, well they may have to wait - as in forever. 

As I prepare the re-listing of the phone since I am still awaiting notification in my accounts that the funds have been received. My guess - Hell will freeze over first. But then any day now I'll being getting that money from that poor missionary in Liberia I sent her earlier this week. She sounded so desperate, and I am certain a missionary would never be involved in some deceitful scheme.  Right?

Little Lord Fauntleroy

I don't get my knickers in a knot when I receive a wedding invitation that is not engraved or is pink or purple - to each their own. And, I am past the point of worrying about one using initials in the address in lieu of full names. I realize folks these days are busy and don't have the time or are not willing to take the time to get their guests' full names.

However I do find it, especially in the South, unnerving when the forms of addresses are incorrect. One of  my pet peeves (to borrow a favorite phrase from my Mama) is the use, or rather misuse of the title "Master". Addressing a young boy as "Master" evokes portraits of the little one dressed as Little Lord Fauntleroy.

And usually, when someone refers to their son or grandson as such they have no doubt subjected the young lad to a portrait sitting costumed in the required get up of velvet breeches and a wide lacy Victorian collar. I dear say some may still be in therapy due to such get up and humiliation.

Amy Vanderbilt stated "that in the USA, unlike the UK, a boy can be addressed as master only until age eight, then is addressed only by his name with no title until he turns 18, when he takes the title of Mr. although it is not improper to use Mr. if he is slightly younger. "Mstr." is used as a prefix for boys on the UK Passport Service online application form." 

Robert Hickey, deputy director of the Protocol School of Washington, stated that "use of Master [as] an honorific when addressing boys is considered old fashioned outside of conservative circles."

Basically in the United States, the use of this term is considered honorific at best and old fashion at worst. In my estimation (ie my humble opinion) it is arrogant. Little boys should just be little boys. John McCall Pillaster VI, should just be that, John McCall Pillaster VI - isn't that enough. 

And, yes, little girls are still referred to as "Miss" until they are married or choose "Ms." or become a doctor of some type. Perhaps unfair that McCall's little sister is "Miss Margaret Pinckney Pillaster" from the day she is born (in formal address) but such is life. 

So as I said, I only get my knickers in a knot when mothers dress their darling sons in them with the wide Victorian collars and then insist they are "Masters". If they want their little boys to be a "Master"they  should have been British and there they could have enjoyed the title until age 8. 

But then as my dear Aunty used to say, people in Hell want ice water.

Dark Side of the Moon

I was checking the weather last night and noted it said that there was a Waning Gibbous. What the Hell? Now I am familiar with the waning and waxing of the moon (thanks to Dr. Drost, my college astronomy teacher) but "Gibbous"? Inquiring minds want to know.

The Oxford Dictionary states:

gib·bous

/ˈɡibəs,ˈjibəs/

Learn to pronounce

adjective

1. (of the moon) having the observable illuminated part greater than a semicircle and less than a circle.

And to think for 60 years I have been experiencing the Gibbous and was totally unaware. It never came up in a trivia game, on Jeopardy, or the Weather Channel. So I l took it upon myself and loooked into the 8 phases of the moon. 

Of course the next thing I saw was the "Jean Dixon" version of the phases of the moon. (Not familiar with Jean Dixon? You are showing your (youthful) age. Run along now.)

This is where the monkey dust comes in. Where as the scientific definitions are clear, describing each phase of the moon in relation to the sun, the touchy feely description delves into the spiritual aspects of each phase. In reading the attribute to each phase, I wasn't sure it had anything to do with the moon per se. They read more like the astrological column on page 3 of the National Enquirer, just under the story of the Elvis being sighted living as a gardener for the Hari Krishnas.

Somehow I doubt Diana (or Selene for the Greeks) referred to the New Moon as a time for an intense reboot or a time to release yourself from the grip of the past. (To paraphrase a description I found in some Astrological Digest.) Nor, did they see the Waxing Crescent as embracing desire. The article went onto attribute the First Quarter Moon as a time of action, the Waxing Gibbous as a period of redirecting course, and the Full Moon as the Harvest Moon (when you fight to find balance between two extremes). The Waning Gibbous is a time for gratefulness, the Last Quarter, a period of release, and finally, the Waning Crescent - the point of surrender.

And what about a Blue Moon? It is the second full moon in a calendar month which happens every 2 and half years or so (therefore it does not mean forever). Or a Super Moon (when it looks bigger because it is closer to the Earth). There is the Blood Moon, named for its reddish glow and seen during a total Lunar eclipse.

Learning all of this was not for naught.  I did note that under my sign (Virgo), the aspect, angle of the planets was in synergy with the winds, Venus was rising, Mars was transitory, and soon I would find myself restless. But, not to fret, for Jupiter was in my future bringing leisure and wealth.

Whatever. Keep in mind this is from the same publications that boasted such headlines as:  "I saw a Mad Cat eat my Mother", "Vengeful Corpse Makes Good on 100 Year Old Curse", and one of my favorites, "I was Seduced by a Flying Saucer". But, I'll hold out for Jupiter.

Food Gentrification

gen·tri·fy

ˈjentrəˌfī/

- to renovate or improve. 

Folks, while the world is concerned about the macro issues of world wars, economic recession, and health crisis, perhaps we should look closer and consider a micro issue that is slowly overtaking our society.

Now, I only speak for those of "us" with good taste, who were brought up, not necessarily in a wealthy home but one with a rich heritage of good food. Where the meals consisted of a cuisine anyone would kill to enjoy. These repasts were based on a heritage of the land and the sea, local herbs and spices, along with those brought from Africa and the Caribbean. 

But now these rich dishes are being reduced to simple boxes and disgusting cans. Instead of a slow cooking dutch oven, a cast iron frying pan, or good ol' pyrex dish, now a microwave and a can opener can (supposedly) reproduce these southern delicacies in minutes.

This is what our "society" has stooped to. I will warn you, the following images are very disturbing. 

Our collard greens, fresh from the fields, that we cook (using everyone's "secret" recipe) adding a ham hock, strips of bacon or fat back,

Have now been reduced to this:

Boiled peanuts should be dug up, rinsed, then cooked in a large pot over a gas burner. Part of the glory of this dish is the camaraderie around the cooker, telling stories, adding salt, and tasting the peanuts to see when they are done.

And, now some poor children think a can opener is all that is involved in "preparing" and serving boiled peanuts. Worse yet, can you imagine what they taste like?

My Mama and my dear mother-in-law both made the best macaroni and cheese. It was a serious rich cheesy casserole so thick is was cut and served in squares. This dish was as good the next morning (if anything was left over) as when it was first served. 

And now, "The" Blue Box is what this generation equates to "Macaroni and Cheese". Oh, the inhumanity!!

But the worse casualty, what someone should be tied and quartered for is that sweet succulent crab that we grew up eating. As a child, we used to use chicken necks tied to string to catch them in the inlet between Sullivan's Island and the Isle of Palms. Then that night we would sit on the front porch and pick and eat crab until we were full. Or Mama would make her rich crab casserole. After I learned to cook, I would use the fresh crab meat to stuff large shrimp, then wrap them in bacon to be grilled.

And today - mock, fake, crab like, style food ...

I know I have offended many, confused some, but hopefully I have opened the eyes of a few to the true southern food that is now "Gentrified" by these feeble fake foods.

Bon Appetite or, as we say down here, pass the biscuits and butter, please.

Life's Lessons - So Far

Over my many years, I have learned a few things - most the hard way. Some of the more important lessons I learned were not over keeping  Chaucer's characters in the Canterbury Tales straight or the value of Pi, but rather what to do or not, truths to accept, and accepted beliefs to reject. Here are a few that come to mind:

• Don't ever ask an overweight young lady when her baby is due.

• If the outfit you are trying on is too tight, return it to the rack. All the good intentions to lose enough weight for it to fit will be in vain. Trust me. It took me several purchases to reach (and accept) this realization.

• When the bottle of wine is empty and you cannot remember if it is the 1st or 2nd bottle you have shared with friends that evening 'tis best to go to bed.

• No matter how much you believe or click your heals, the House Keeping is never going to come.

• Every time your souffle falls, your Hollandaise sauce curdles, or your chocolate burns, keep in mind Julia Childs didn't know how to cook before she went to France so there is hope. 

• When someone says "You are as young as you feel", chances are they are much younger and feel much better than you.

• Benjamin Franklin said “Our new Constitution is now established, and has an appearance that promises permanency; but in this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes.” Unfortunately, no one remembers the first part of the quote and the second part, which everyone does remember, is a cruel reality.

• Contrary to lore, the LBR (Little Black Dress) you keep in your closet will not always make your size 12 look like a size 8 - no matter what the fashion magazines say.

• Never buy cheap shoes, cheap sheets, or cheap aluminum foil. 

• Anyone who brings up the issue of a diet during the dessert course is rude, crude, and unattractive. 

After all, in the Canterbury Tales, The Wife of Bath (Alisoun) is the character who most enjoys life,The Prioress (Madame Eglantine) is the most proper, and Hubert, the Friar is a pain in the ass. As for Pi, it may be irrational, but it is still an even number

On and Off the Bandwagon

According to Merrian-Webster, the definition of Gluten is: "a substance in wheat and flour that holds dough together".

Once again, my little mind is a bit confused. As a child and young adult I had many friends (and relatives), and knew folks from many other parts of the country, and I never heard of anyone suffering from the ill effects of "gluten". This, despite the fact we were raised reared on a diet of Cherrios, Wheaties, and Sunbeam Bread. God forbid I mention our consumption of coconut cake, biscuits, and fried chicken - all these are truly gluten possessed. 

It wasn't until I was in my late 40's when I first heard of a friend of mine's cousin's child suffered from Celiac Disease that I ever heard the term "gluten free". The disease, she explained to me was when digesting gluten triggered the body's immune system to damage the small finger like projections that line the small intestine that promote nutrient absorption. This would prevent nutrients from being absorbed properly into the body. In this case, the child was really ill and the mother had to learn a different way to shop and cook for him. 

I could not imagine such a fate. First having a child one had to protect from such a horrendous disease and learn how to rethink how to shop, cook, and eat wheat and flour free in our world of bread, breading, cakes, cookies, and pasta. Obviously this was before the birth of the Gluten Free market.

Suddenly we have "Gluten Free" aisles in the grocery stores. A good 20% of my friends are now convinced that Gluten is the cause of every digestive, intestinal, or weight  problem they have and have sworn off the evil stuff. There are articles stating "80% of those with Celiac Disease go un-diagnosed". According to an article on Healthy Living while there are those who suffer from Celiac Disease, more may just have a wheat allergy. My question is how many of those on the Gluten Free band wagon have been tested to know exactly what they have?

I'm not saying it is a passing fad. Giving the "Gluten Free" aisles in the grocery stores, it is a full fledged business now. However, if one looks closer they will see many of the Gluten Free products while free of Gluten are chocked full of fats, sugars, and carbs. Remembers the "Fat Free" diets of the early 1990's. I thought I was in nirvana. That was the diet for me. Once I found that I could eat an entire Entennman's Raspberry Danish Twist (all 5 servings) without a fat gram I was in heaven knowing I had not strayed from my diet. (Of course how I was going to lose weight given I had just consumed about 1500 calories was just a minor detail.) Also remember that Kate Gosselin's haircut (the one that looked as if it were done by a drunk stylist with great ambition) was also a fad. But  digress.

I'm not saying that Gluten Free is all bad or that we may be carrying this a little far. Personally I'm not quite ready to swear off biscuits, fried chicken, and  whole grain bread - the real stuff not some GF alternative. All I am saying is, as a country we love band wagons and are quick to jump on. This all came to mind this morning in the shower when I noticed that on the front of both of my DH's shampoo and conditioner bottles it read "100% Vegan Free - Gluten Free". Seriously? Well, I'm just going watch this parade.

Barbie Gowns

My Mama may have tried to kill me with ric rac, but my Grandmother made the most incredible clothes for my Barbie dolls. I had an entire Barbie closet full of ball gowns, a wedding dress, and cocktail dresses, and Grandmama had all made  all these by hand.

Each of these pieces were incredibly detailed. The gowns would be made of satin with a coordinating chiffon or netting over the skirt. The cocktail dresses would be made of silk edged with sequins or some other fancy trim.  For every long gown for my Barbie, she made a coordinating one for my Skipper. One year, she presented me with a full length wool coat, with such details like pockets and a coordinating collar. 

When I look back on the small bodices and tiny waists she had to work with to produce these clothes, I am in awe. There was usually a small snap or tiny hook and eye in the back to hold up the skirt or fasten the back of the dress. The hems of the dresses were always perfectly even and turned under.

Even as a little girl I loved the Barbie clothes she made. When I went to play with my friends I had the loveliest Barbie clothes by far. If we were producing a Barbie wedding I was always fast to share my ball gowns and bridesmaid dresses. My friends were welcome to dress their dolls in the beautiful cocktail dresses my Grandmama had made for me.

But the grass is always greener. Out of all the gorgeous clothes I had, I did not have any "every day" clothes. My Barbie and Skipper could only dress for balls and dances and weddings and parties. I did not have any "real" Barbie clothes, the kind that came from the store with the Barbie label in them. I had to borrow those from my friends.

One afternoon I can remember a friend of mine having this Barbie suit made out of pink faux fur trimmed in white vinyl. It had a top, a skirt, and a coordinating hat. I had played with that outfit so much that she asked me if I wanted it. Seems she had been eyeing one of my ball gowns. When she suggested a trade I had to think about it. After much angst and guilt I made the trade.

Even though I can remember enjoying that pink outfit as long as I played with my Barbies, I still to this day feel pangs of guilt over that trade. How could I have given something my Grandmama spent so much time making for an outfit anyone could buy from the dime store? Now I am sure if my Grandmother knew about it she would chuckle. One gown would not have upset her. She would been happy that some other little girl was enjoying the gown she made. She probably would have been hurt though that I never asked to her to make my Barbie some everyday clothes.

Whatever the case, I look back on the two generations of talent. My mother who made my clothes and although I did not appreciate them at the time, she was an excellent seamstress and spent a great amount of time sewing each one. And my Grandmother who spent hours crafting those Barbie clothes. 

Unfortunately, while I once had an interest in sewing and learned the basics, like many things this is a lost art with me. However, the time and talent they put into it is not lost on me. All this came to mind when I found one of the lovely Barbie gowns my Grandmother made for me in the attic. And yesterday I came across a red plaid dress in a size 4 with two pockets and ric rac on it that my mother had saved in a box of other memorabilia we had unearthed while cleaning out her house. 

It is amazing how pieces of cloth hold so many memories. Well, pieces of cloth that have been carefully cut, folded, sized, stitched, edged, trimmed, and hemmed. 

The Little Girl from Voque

As I have said, my mother made my clothes. I can remember the excitement of school starting and my 5 or 6 new dresses. Each was from the same basic pattern - but at 6 what did I know. Each was from a different material, in a different color, some were plaid, one was solid, a few were prints. Each were short sleeved and most had pockets on them. Almost all were decorated with a different color of ric-rac.

This enthusiasm was well worn off by Halloween. I was tired of my wardrobe. To make things worse, I seemed to be the only child in my class who was "fortunate" to have a mother talented enough to sew. Other mothers would often ask me if my mother made my dress and comment that is was "so cute". Even at 6, I wasn't sure if that was a heart felt compliment or the kiss of death.

One particular little girl comes to mind. She was pretty and petite. Her clothes were always perfect. I was not sophisticated enough to understand what I was seeing, but I knew it was different from the rest of us. Every season, she would change like a chameleon into a new phase of fashion.

Then there were the kids who got their mothers to let them shop at the "It" shop in town, where all of the "hip" clothes were. I think I got to go into the store once. Needless to say, none of my clothes came from there - only in my dreams. Meanwhile, I endured ric-rac. Little did I know I was just beginning a 12 year battle with my mother over clothes - a stand off that I never won.

It was only after I got out of college that I found my sense of "style", what I really liked and felt comfortable in. I never learned to sew and swore I would never make my children endure that affliction. (Although, we fought many battles over dress - or lack of it, over the years.)

The mystery of the well dressed little girl was revealed many years later when I learned that 3 or 4 times a year her mother would take her to New York to shop for clothes. No wonder she was so far ahead of us. After all, in 1966, most of us did not even know where New York was. Since it was north of the Mason-Dixon line it may as well not have existed. Looking back on it, even at 6 she looked like she dressed out of Vogue. No wonder I couldn't relate - as I sat next to her in gingham and ric-rac.

Simplicity and a Fate Worse than Death

I found an old Simplicity pattern recently and it brought back all kinds of memories. 

My Mama sewed and was an extremely talented seamstress when she put her mind to it. My Grandmother was also very talented and obviously taught my mother how to sew. Mama made some beautiful clothes for herself. She also made drapes for our house as well as some for my dear Aunt Kat's new house. She made throw pillow of every type and description. 

During the centennial of the war, she made Daddy an exact replica of the uniform those in Hampton's Legion wore so he would be correctly dressed for his reenactments down to the grey wool, red felt, and gold braiding.

Mama was practical - sometimes to a fault. When I started kindergarten, she made five little dresses for me. They were all from the same simplicity pattern. Each was of a different fabric. One was plaid, two were solid (in different colors), and two were of fabrics of different patterns. Each little dress was a bit unique. One may have one pocket, while another would two pockets, and a third would not have any pockets. But each and everyone one was decorated with a coordinating color of Ric Rac. (I went on to call that year and the next - "Death by Ric Rac".)

When it got chilly I would be dressed with tights and a blouse under the dresses. If was very cold, she would  put me in a matching pair of corduroy pants under the dress - which even at five I thought was a hideous idea and shared my opinion with her each time that occurred.

In the spring there would be five more in bright spring colors, each with coordinating ric-rac. It never got as bad as having the days of the week labeled on them, but it was damn close. 

Mama was being thrifty and looking back on it, it made perfectly good sense. She was very talented. The clothes were well made. The dresses, although fairly plain, were in fashion for the time - whatever fashion was in the early 1960's for a five year old. 

Other mothers would ask me if my mother made my dresses. I would answer "yes" with pride. All went well until first grade. For some reason the fashion rules change between kindergarten and first grade, something Mama never quite caught onto. 

That fall she made my five dresses. About 4 or 5 weeks into school I went into revolt. My clothes were different from those of my classmates. I wanted store bought clothes just like they had. Mama would have none of that. And so started the clothes war that continued until I left for college. 

In high school one year a certain style of top came into vogue. Everyone was wearing them. I had bought 2 or 3. One day I came home from school to find that Mama had decided to make several for me from a pattern she had found.

Yes, her heart was in the right place. However, the fabrics she selected were hideous. The calico prints were something so God awful I feel certain the Mennonite women who shopped locally had passed on those bolts of cloth in the fabric store deeming them too homely. I thanked her for them, tried them on, and put them in my closet. I think she took the hint because that was her last attempt to surprise me with a piece of clothing she had made.

My senior year, I could not find a formal gown for one of our spring dances. In total desperation and came home with the fabric and a Vogue pattern. Mama produced a lovely simple but elegant gown that I enjoyed wearing and actually wore to a dance in college.

Now I had another friend whose mother made all her clothes and they were gorgeous and trendy. Mama had the talent, she just never got the memo that perhaps things would go more swimmingly if I had some input into the fabric and pattern. But generally there was a failure to communicate between my mother and me until I was in my late 30's and had two children.

To keep the peace Daddy decided when I was in high school that perhaps I needed to learn how to sew and bought me my own sewing machine. I took lessons and learned the basics. Several attempts showed me that it takes a great deal of patience and talent to produce a garment from scratch using a pattern, fabric, the necessary notions, and a sewing machine. I gained respect for Mama's talent and the time she dedicated to making my clothes. 

However kindergarten was fine for calico, gingham, plaid, and ric rac, but after that peer pressure prevailed. Even as a 6 year old I did not know what "fashion" was. But I knew what wasn't and "Simplicity" was not going to be the end of me. 

We the People

 I climb upon my soap box to speak my mind.

Personally I think one of the main issues in today's climate of uber partisanship is a fundamental lack of the knowledge of the US Constitution. In my generation (ie the Olden Days) we were taught citizenship. From an early age we learned how the government works. And, yes, more than just "School House Rock". Today one rarely finds this curriculum in schools.

If one asks many of the citizens of our great land about the constitution, the response will be something like, "We the People". A few know the following line, " . . . of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union,". But I would bet money that few of those under age 40 know how many Articles there are. For reference purposes, there are 7 and there are 27 Amendments.

    Article I - sets forth the Congress and its powers

    Article II - is about the presidency and its powers

    Article III - gives the US Courts its structure and powers

    Article IV - is about states' powers

    Article V - explains the amendment process

    Article VI - sets forth federal law

    Article VII - is about ratification of the Constitution itself

And then there are the Amendments - all 27 of them. These have been the life blood of the grand document. The first 10 are known as the "Bill of Rights". Most folks know that the 1st Amendment deals with freedom of the press. 

    The 13th Amendment abolished slavery.

    The 15th Amendment grants all American citizens (well, males only), over the age of 18, no matter their        faith, race or religion the right to vote. 

    Income taxes were established with the 16th Amendment.

     Prohibition was brought in with the 18th Amendment ratified in 1919. Then in 1933, the country came to     its senses and revoked the 18th amendment with the 21st. 

    The 19th amendment gives women the right to vote.

    The 22nd limits any citizen serving as president to 2 terms.

    The 25th Amendment sets forth the process for the cabinet to deem the president unfit, followed by               approval of congress by 2/3's vote.

    The Equal Rights Amendment, the ERA, giving women equal rights was proposed in 1923. By 1977, 35      of the 38 states required had voted to ratify it. Since then, 5 of those states revoked their ratification.

The point of all this is that since 1789 when the US Constitution was ratified, this great experiment has worked. The document is fairly clear. It established 3 separate but equal parts of government. It is living and can be amended as the times require.

But, like the rule of law, it only works when everyone follows it. For almost two and a half centuries, this grand document has kept the country growing and thriving.  If we lose sight of the way government has been set-up and how it operates within the the Constitution with its Articles and Amendments, we will become another failed state. Many Americans take this for granted, that it will always work. No so much - for our grand democracy and all its freedoms is only held together by this document. 

We, the people do self govern. We control who our lawmakers are by the ballot box. The constitution was originally written in the 18th century, times have changed, the country has modernized. Up until the 13th amendment slavery was legal. The 15th amendment protects our right to vote. The 19th amendment expanded this to include women. Every citizen has a right to vote. But, today some are trying to limit this right to certain people by making it more difficult for many to vote, incorrectly saying this past election was not legitimate. However the courts and election officials across the country have stated that it was carried out in a fair, legal, and legitimate way. 

Think of our country as a large bus that for  232 years has safely carried all of us. Oh, there have been bumps in the road, times when the engine spit and sputtered. But, over the years it has carried us safely. Now we find it recklessly speeding down the road, running through stop lights, hitting other vehicles, with no regard to life or limb. It can crash into a building or careen off a cliff at any time. 

Over the centuries there here have been many countries that operated in a free and democratic manner, to suddenly find themselves as an autocracy or a dictatorship. It is a slippery slope, an icy road, that many have gone down, only realizing too late that their freedoms are gone. 

We are a free country. Let us stay that way. If some fear the way some others will vote. Rather than trying to limit that right by false pretenses, it is up to them to rally their like minded fellow citizens to vote. For it is the majority who will rule. That is a fair and free election.

So let us remember we are all on this bus of democracy together. Let us keep it on the road to protect our 'more perfect union.'