July 4, 2015

Stepping Away

The concrete stepping stones in the above photograph were located in my paternal grandmother's backyard.  It is hard to tell from the photograph but these stones once circled around a tree before heading out toward a small house my grandmother had someone build less than fifty yards from her back door.  I have sweet childhood memories of playing on these same stones.

My father sold his parents house and land many years ago and it has since been sold to someone else. The current owner told me a few years back that he planned to dig up the stones so he could place a swimming pool in the yard.

I'm not sure why the news of his intentions came as such a surprise to me.  Perhaps it was because the stepping stones had remained in place several years after my father sold the house and land.

The removal of what I considered a piece of my childhood saddened me.  The fact that I had no control over the situation was a reminder that change is inevitable.

So, I stepped away.

June 19, 2015

The Darkness will be Gone

There Will Come A Day

It's not easy trying to understand
How the world can be so cold
Stealing the souls of man
Cloudy skies rain down on all your dreams
You wrestle with the fear and doubts
Sometimes it's hard, but you gotta believe
There's a better place
Where our Father waits
And every tear He'll wipe away
The darkness will be gone
The weak shall be strong
Hold on to your faith
There will come a day
Wars are raging, lives are scattered
Innocence is lost and hopes are shattered
The old are forgotten, the children are forsaken
In this world we're living in is there anything scared?
There's a better place
Where our Father waits
And every tear He'll wipe away
The darkness will be gone
The weak shall be strong
Hold on to your faith
There will come a day
Song will ring out, down those golden streets
The voices of earth with the angels will sing
Every knee will bow, sin will have no trace
In the glory of His amazing grace
There will come a day

Written by
William Luther
Aimee Mayo
Christopher Marsh Lindsey

April 13, 2015

Willamette Years - It's Willamette, Damn It!

In the late 1990s I went to work for Willamette Industries in Ruston, Louisiana.  This followed several years of working in the Pecanland Mall Manangement office and a short stint working as an office manager for a therapy company in Monroe.

I submitted my resume after seeing a job posting in a local newspaper for a secretarial position with the company. Several weeks later I received a call from a lady named Dawn inviting me to interview for the position.

After going through a battery of tests and facing an interview board like none I had ever encountered, I was offered the position.  My new job was actually as a roving secretary; filling in for other secretaries throughout the office.

Dawn (the same lady who called me about interviewing) gave me my first lesson upon joining the company....the correct pronunciation of the company name.  It was not pronounced 'Willa Mette'.

The correct pronunciation was 'Will Am It'....as in 'Willamette, Damn It!

In my five years with Willamette Industries I moved from roving secretary to Human Resources secretary to Safety secretary and finally to Transportation Coordinator.  What a five year ride!

LtoR:  Dawn, Pat. Lena, Deb and Debbie - Christmas Parade, 1990s

Dawn and I would become great friends through my years of working for Willamette and continue on through working for Weyerhaeuser who purchased Willamette back in 2002.

Christmas Parade photograph is courtesy of Dawn.

February 1, 2015

Cats - An Inconvenient Truth


Cats can work out mathmatically the exact place to sit to cause the most inconvenience.
~Pam Brown

November 26, 2014

Nana and Pecans

Nana with her Grandson

Our yard was full of pecan trees that were planted over one hundred years ago by my paternal great grandfather, Isham Alfonso "I.A. or Al" Steele.  They produced pecans of every shape and size.  We had everything from the long, skinny pecans to the small round ones.  Some years the trees produced huge crops of pecans.  Other years they didn't do quite so well.

Pecan Tree on Home Place

Each Fall brought a familiar sight to our house.  My mother would spread out newspaper in the floor and get to work cracking pecans.  She would have different shoe boxes filled with pecans and a small hammer at hand for her tool.

Once all the pecans were cracked, the process was then moved to the kitchen table where she would begin shelling them and later chopping them up for storage.

In the photograph at the top of this page my mother is seen holding my son while shelling and chopping up pecans.

Top of Pecan Tree on the Home Place