My Flag

To the young ladies that had the gall to have their picture taken and put on Facebook standing on the flag of the United States, you are standing on my flag.  The flag that represents freedom to all the people who love this country.  The flag of those who sleep in the depth of sacrifice and the sorrow of our nation.  It is with this deep grief, I denounce your ungrateful actions and I offer this suggestion.  Since you, obviously, have too much extra time because you are wasting your energy destroying the flag of the country that has given you the privilege to have that much free time.      I have a solution. Since the United States has disappointed you even after offering shelter, food, clothing, and education to those who choose to work for these things  (and to some who can not), there is a place that needs your time.  According to the magazine "The Voice of Martyrs", You can book a flight to the Sudan in Africa where the Sudanese government is waging war on the Christians for extinction.        1.  The government drops bombs daily to the number of 4,000 a year.  You can pick up the empty bomb casings scattered on the ground.      2.  The children play in and around the underground bomb shelter.  When the planes come they race to get inside.  You can help pick up the tiny bodies that do not make it there and die.      3.  You could use your time to weave rope beds to hold the wounded to lie on while they wait for a doctor.      4.  Perhaps, you could volunteer to help the TWO doctors in the 3 medical facilities that Sudan has to care for the 1.1 million people with the bare necessities of surgery and lack of supplies and sanitary conditions.      5.  Perhaps you could use your free time to wash the dirty clothes of the children, because to them, dirt does not matter-staying alive is all that matters.            Yet, here you have time to trample the flag of our country whose patriots fight and die for your freedoms, and that matters to me.      Shame on all of you who offer nothing to the country that gives you the opportunity to have everything you need in peace.                                                                              Rita Dortch Click here to Reply or Forward 1.13 GB (7%) of 15 GB used Manage Terms - Privacy Last account activity: 3 minutes ago Details

The Red Christmas Dress

The Red Christmas Dress

          It was finally happening.  I was going to The Night of Chocolate.  It is a dinner theatre for the Patrons of Art in Northeast Arkansas.  I had been anticipating the chance

to attend for a few years.  Since our grandson was a part of the cast, we reserved a table for our family.  I anxiously prepared for the pre-Christmas event. The search for the perfect dress ended with a red, crystal-speckled brocade suit.

     When the night arrived, our family gathered in our suits, ties and sparkling finery, and I was having excitement butterflies.  After we arrived and as we sat at our table, the room was abuzz with conversation.  Later, we were welcomed to the affair and then filed through the buffet line.  I noticed how people were attempting to balance a plate, drink and dessert at the same time.  I was no exception.  I made it to the table unscathed, sitting my drink and plate down.  As I leaned down to remove my night clutch from the chair to sit, I felt it.  From my remaining hand-held dish, the Chocolate Crème pie slid onto my chest.   Dark, chocolate crème pie decorated the bodice of my dress.  I promptly sat down.

     I looked down at my beautiful red brocade dress covered in a pile of goop. I looked at my daughter across the table, “Is that a look of horror in my daughter’s eyes on her face of stone?” The expression was priceless.  If I could have hung a cartoon bubble over her head, it would have read, “Elephant in the room? No, I don’t see it.” as our eyes locked in motionless stone. Quickly, glancing at my husband who sitting beside me, I saw he was oblivious to it all, I looked at my son-in-law.  He was busy arranging his place setting and was expressionless, but his shoulders were shaking-- that Inward Laughing Syndrome that you can not contain. 

     I was in disaster mode then, and, obviously, my family was so mortified they could not move.  I have to save myself.  Understand, I’m not accustomed to saving myself.  I don’t open doors or pull out chairs, and suddenly, I’m going to have to scrape chocolate crème pie into a napkin before it falls all the way down the front of my dress.  I grab every cloth napkin I can reach, and I scoop with both hands and get the mountain of deep, b-l-a-c-k  mush into the napkins.  Wipe! wipe! wipe.! It was looking better.  I was too embarrassed to look around and see whether or not people were watching.  Under a fresh napkin covering, I headed to the ladies powder room.  After washing my hands, I wet the napkin in the sink and gave my lovely new dress an emergency hand bath. 

     Surprisingly, the brocade material actually cleaned up beautifully.  I couldn’t see a bit of black crème anywhere.  It looked a little damp, but I decided I could survive that.  As I re-entered the dining hall, I was received with a standing ovation…   No, not really, but I should have received applause.  I was passable clean.  I reseated myself and had a delicious meal.  I learned an inescapable truth that night:  a person does not die from embarrassment.

Technological Courtship

What in the world is happening? I can remember long ago, some fifty-five to sixty years ago-I discovered boys. All my young friends and I were deeply involved in getting the attention of the boys around us. We would splash on the Evening in Paris ( from the magical, stormy blue bottle.) We would flip our ponytails, flutter our eye lashes, smile our sweetest smiles, and try to have a charming conversation to entice the young men to spend time with us.
     Sadly, I guess this activity is vanishing. My husband and I observed a young couple come in Wendy's today. They were like typical young people from my youth except for one thing--they each had a cell phone. As they waited for their orders, each one had their head buried in their phone. We saw them get their food, eat, and never once look at each other,never smile sweetly, or never say one word to each other!
     We were amazed that their eyes never met to convey admiration, their hands never brushed to feel the tingle of butterflies, or any words spoken to touch the heart of the other. "So sad," I thought. They are missing the joyous feelings of courtship.
I wondered if they had ever played Spin-the-Bottle- my first realization of games that brought so much excitement and fun. Another little game I played a time or two when I was a young teenager, I approached a male classmate and held up a dime, "I'll bet you a dime that I can kiss you without ever touching you."
     "uh-h--O.K." he stammered.
     I tip-toed and place a smack on his cheek. Then I took his hand and placed the dime in it, "I lose!"   I giggled and ran away to join my young girl friends- leaving him with a startled, shell-shocked grin on his face.    (1959)
Oh, young friends, get rid of those phones! You don't know what fun you are missing.

Where is Winnie?

                                                                  Where is Winnie?


 
     There are people that cross our lives- that leave footprints that are never erased.  Footprints that are indelibly imprinted on our hearts.  We stop, occasionally, and renew the feeling that we hold in our memories.
     

     In the spring of 1994, I met Winfred Meyer at Arkansas State University in Jonesboro, Arkansas.  I was 49 years old and nearing the completion of a degree in Education.  Winnie was married to my sociology professor.  She was born in Zambia, Africa, and about 25-30 years old.  I was intrigued with Winnie.  I had never had a friend of color other than mine.  She was one of the sweetest ladies I ever met.  I loved hearing about her homeland and stories from her family.  She was kind and gentle.  We shared long talks that often included the differences in people.  She once remarked, "I don't see see color, I only see people."   ( How nice it would be, Winnie, if the whole world could make that statement.)
     Winnie spoke with a fascinating British accent.  We grew very close that semester.  We would have lunch together at Burger King, or she would take me to her home sometimes.  The first time at her home she make us hamburgers.  As I sat at the table talking, she gathered the ingredients.  She handed me the bowl with the raw meat,
"Would you rather make your own patty?" (As if I would not want her to handle my beef paddy.)
"No, Winnie I'm sure you can do it just fine." I answered as I refused to take it. 
I think our friendship was based on  personal needs.  I needed to find out about the world and meet people who could show me the way.  She needed someone to fill her need for family.  I'm sure I was about her own mother's age, and I believe she was lonely for home.  I was the person that appeared in her life to fill that need.  To make it even sweeter,  her mother's name was Rita. 
     Winnie was there for me at the hospital the day I was injured in P.E. class.  I was knocked down during a wild game of  "Catch the Goose" or something like that.  As the "geese" were trying to avoid being caught by the "catchers" by racing all over the gym floor--one exuberant  young man hit me full force face on.  I was on the floor surrounded by the class.  I couldn't see, and was hiding my face because I didn't know if I was bleeding.  Someone placed the pieces of my glasses in my hand.  They checked me for broken bones.  The professor wanted me to go to the hospital, but I was a commuter in someone else's car that day.   So we taped my glasses together and his assistant walked me to my next class.  
     When Dr. Meyer saw me and heard what happened, he told me to call Winnie  to meet us at the hospital.
She stayed with me until they finished all the x-rays and then took me back to campus.  I wasn't seriously injured (just my pride as I sported a huge black eye and wore taped up glasses for a week.)
     I enjoyed that semester with my special new friend, Winnie.  She left a few weeks later for an extended visit to family in Zambia.  Before leaving, she came to visit me here at White Oak. She met my family and learned about my home life here in the United States.  Living at my home  is different than living in the college town of Jonesboro.  She loved the location and farming scenery. 
     When she returned 3 months later, I was preparing to leave campus for my student teaching.  She gifted me with memorabilia from her country of Zambia--a popular style of dress at that time and wall plaques made of the country's most precious metal of copper.  They were molded into the designs of African Gods.  She often teased me with "You better be good or I'll turn my Gods on you."  That was the last time I saw Winnie.  I was told that she left Jonesboro because of family problems. I learned that she had divorced and went home.   I received two letters--February of 2000 and another in June of 2000.  She was living in England.  She had remarried, and there was a beautiful family picture in the lush English countryside.  
    Her last words to me were, "I've been here a long time-five years.  So much has happened, but all is well, and I am happy.
     I've never been able to establish contact again.  If I could, I would say,  "Winnie, It was such a wonderful experience knowing you.  I'm glad I had the opportunity to learn about your country and family.
     I believe you opened up a dialog between two people who appeared to be so different-- only to find how much we were alike.  Our hearts joined in friendship. 
- It did not matter if I was older.
- It did not matter that you were from the continent of Africa, nor that I was from North America.
- It was of no consequence, that our skins were of different hues.  Our skins were like the skins on an apple.  Some are red, green, pink, or yellow, but underneath we were the same- created by God.  What ultimately mattered was that we were of kindred spirits--with open hearts and loving natures.  Thank you, Winnie, for being part of my life.  I do sincerely hope we meet again.
   
 
      

Down from Cloud Nine March 26,2014

     It was great fun flying up to that Cloud Nine!  We planned for days to get to that fluffy white cushion.
It was fabulous getting in the car and heading to appointment with adventure.  We, my friend, Kathy and I, looked forward to a day out and some good down to earth laughter.  We had worked together for 14 years.  We had talked, laughed, complained, cried and grieved together.  Then we walked out of the school and went our separate ways.  We had formed a friendship that would remain even in the outstretch of real life.  We text, phoned, and emailed.  Sometimes, we need to hear a voice we trust, and it is there.  Sometimes, we need to hear a deep seated belly laugh over a naughty little thought!  Sometimes, we need to share a worry, a fear, or a secret.  This is our day.  I look forward to it for months.
     I'm so excited that when I get out of the car, I accidentally hit something, and the car goes in panic mode, and the horn goes berserk.  I'm pushing everything on the remote and we are laughing so hard.  Bingo! I hit the right thing and we are off to the manicure parlor!  I had a gift certificate from my granddaughter, Sarah-the very first beauty shop job!  We searched for the right shade and tried to laugh quietly as we blundered around the bottles.  It was a wonderful experience.  I loved being pampered and feeling beautiful afterward...at least my nails!
     Next, we are off to the Mexican restaurant.  Being conservative as we are, we split a meal, and it was just the right amount for each of us.  We talked more and laughed more and paid the tip!  We had saved up a lot of conversation.  Off again!  The next stop was flower shopping, and afterward, we headed to the movies.
      We settled into our spot next to the bars in front of us and propped our feet up!  In the darkness of the theater, surrounded by people, we relaxed, ate nuts, candy and watched God is not Dead.  It was a good movie that suited our beliefs.  It gave us a sense of urgency about the society around us.  The evils of darkness are sucking our young from the roots of their religion, and it is time for the church and Christians to awake and do something.
    On leaving the theater we had a chance meeting with an old friend that we taught with years ago.  That was a pleasant happenstance.
     On the way home we have more talk and laughter.  Way too soon it was over.  I get back in my car and head home.  It  was a wonderful day and that must sustain me for a few more months.  I look forward to another day on Cloud Nine.

From Book to Movie March 20, 2014

     I've realized now what a masterful, power-filled experience reading holds over me.  I didn't understand what was happening emotionally.  I've been producing cinematography in my memory.  The camera's are rolling and everything is being filmed with intricate details.  I see the winsome smile-joining the sparkling eyes. I see the breeze ruffle the lock of hair out of place.  I see the fear in the face as a woman feels the hand slap her face- and the unbridled words pierce her heart. I see profound hatred creating turmoil in the soul.  It's all there.  Most of all I see the eyes that speak when words are silent...tears that flow unbidden and uncontrolled.  I see the love that emerges from the windows of the soul.  All captured on the film in my mind.
     When I go to the movies filled with the knowledge of the pages of the book,  I leave with a little sadness.  There is no way in one and a half to two hours  that the studio can include all the events.
     I know now that the book has become part of me...my thoughts, my experiences, and my conversations. I have lived the story.
     The movie may be excellent, but it will never be complete for me, the reader, for part of it lives in me.

Dreams March 19, 2014

Everyone should have a dream.  Something that they want and are willing to work toward.  I have seen people work for years to accomplish that satisfied feeling.  What I say is ... forever be adding to the dreams you began.  There is a sense of wonder about "getting there", but you will find that that is also another feeling you will find.  That is a sense of loss.  Once you have attained it all, there is no purpose in your life.  No one seems to need you and  nothing left to do.  You sleep, you eat and go to Walmart, etc.  Then at night when you sit down, you wonder what is my life worth now?  What am I doing here?  Where am I going?  I know that there are only a few years left, but I hate for those to be empty years of no value.