2nd Post Today, August 8th.

Daddy - to Mary Ann and me -  Frank or Mr. Wilkerson - to all others - 

died on this day in 1993.

August 8.

I still miss him.  I know Mary Ann does, too.

We miss Mother and Daddy, both.

But not in a morbid or unhealthy way.  A happy way, actually.

I've always wish we'd (Mom, Mary Ann and I) handled his disease better.
We gave it our best shot.

Our goal was to make him feel as safe and comfortable as possible.

Always our goal, but then one looks back and second guesses things.

He had Alzheimer's Disease.

We were on unknown territory, for us, and for most of the world.

But he's been in eternity for 18 years now.

He would be 98.  People live to be 98 and more.  The rest of Daddy's body was very healthy.

Good genes.  Good heart.  Good mind,  until the Alzheimer's ravaged it.

Earliest memories of daddy.

He and  I sitting on the floor with the soles of our feet touching, spread legs, and rolling a red, white, and blue rubber ball back and forth.  I LOVED that game.  I remember I could tell he was doing it for me and that he didn't love that game as much as I did.  He didn't intend for me to know that but I could tell.  He always had a smile on his face, still I knew.  I guess his duration wasn't as long as mine.  I had to have been so young.  3 maybe? 

Other memory.  Daddy coming home from work and Mary Ann and I rushing into his arms as he came in the side/back door - His arms opened wide and he's kneeling down to take us both in.  Our excitement and squeals.  I remember that.  I know he loved that.  Who doesn't love that?  

Daddy throwing Mary Ann and me on the bed and saying a phrase as he did it.  It's such a nonsense phrase and I have no idea how it got started, but we loved it and giggled so much over it.  He would say, "Whole Tatum!" and he'd stretch out the "o" really long in the word, whole.  He'd say that as he threw each of us on the bed.  Of course he could only do us one at a time, so the one waiting would be shouting, "Do me! Do me!" and he'd laugh and say, "Okay, come on, Do Me."  He'd call us "do me".  

Oh gosh.  I remember those endless glasses of water we asked for at night or in the middle of the night.  I can see Daddy sleepily coming in the room with that tiny glass and I'd take a small sip and be done.  Of course every parent knows it's a tactic - that the child probably isn't very thirsty - just needing some contact.  Daddy knew it - but he came anyway with that small glass of water.  He always looked so sleepy.

I can still feel the way Daddy held me when I was very small - on his side the way a man holds a child, usually, with one strong arm, and just grasping the legs with the other hand.  My arm around his neck.  One particular night I ran to get in his arms when he was going outside to check and listen to see if he could tell the direction of a fire engine we heard.  I thought I would be safer if I was in his arms.  He stood and held me and we listened - and I said I hoped it wasn't coming to our house.  (I've told this on here before) That's when he gave me the wonderful information - that fire trucks don't set houses on fire, they put them out.  Boy had I been mixed up about that!  So glad to know.

Of course there's the fun way to be carried - on the shoulders.  We definitely did that .

And the driving - he'd let me sit in his lap when we got on our "slow" street - and I thought I was steering.  His hands were on the lower part of the steering wheel.

And there were our older child years and our teen years.

And college.  And being single.  And married with children.

He was always there.  

I'm so glad for all the people I will see again.
I'm so glad for redemption and eternity,
for grace and mercy,
for sanctification,
for Christ in me,
the hope of glory.
Grateful and glad and so much hope.
I wish God would use me to tell everyone.
I don't seem to communicate it very well with words.
I'm glad it's His Spirit telling and communicating and doing and using His redeemed ones the way He wants to and chooses to.

Repost

I've decided to go back and repost some older posts.  Much older posts.  Some people read my blog who didn't at first.  I wanted to repost this one because it is about Daddy.  I think about him and Mother in so much of what I do and what I am a part of.  So - this is about Daddy.

I posted this June 28, 2008.

This is my Dad, Frank Godsey Wilkerson

He was born May 2, 1913 and died August 8, 1993

He grew up in Troy, Alabama. He was the youngest of three brothers and lived amongst a large extended family. There were many cousins, aunts, uncles, and I'm not sure if he was born before his grandparents died.

Daddy's parents were artistic, and I know that Grandmother was musical, studying piano at Judson College. Therefore, Daddy got a full dose of every musical gene - It was said about him that he had perfect pitch. I don't know if he did or not, have perfect pitch, but I lived thinking he was the last word on music. He didn't profess that about himself, there was no arrogance to him, except for the amount we all carry around in our flesh - but he didn't take himself too seriously. He just had music "oozing out of his pores" - and rhythm. He clicked and beat and whistled all the time. He had a very clear, smooth tenor voice. Daddy was the soloist for everything, every event. He was the big musical deal in our small town of Evergreen throughout the years of 1946-19-whenever. That's the way it seemed to me.

The above photo of a photo is Daddy one year before he died.

He had Alzheimer's disease. The picture was taken at his birthday celebration, and we are all singing Happy Birthday to him. You don't see his forefinger raised in this photo, like a conductor's baton, but he did that on this day when we began to sing. When friends, during this diseased period of his life, came carolling at Christmas, he again directed the singing with his hands and arms. I wish it hadn't been that way, that he had to have Alzheimer's Disease, but he did, and lots of people have stuff in this world. I wish that he and Mother could have stayed in this world with me, until it was time for me to go, but that just isn't the way it works. Praise God for Heaven, Eternity, the sacrifice of Christ, which makes possible a very very very happy ending. The happy ending, so happy, we can't get our finite brains around it.

This is Daddy's Trumpet.

I never knew, until I was an adult, that this trumpet was a big deal. It's a Bach Trumpet and the best kind of one of these. Again, stuff like that I never knew. I never knew that it was such an "education" he got, graduating from Northwestern University. He did tell me that his voice teacher in Troy had to meet with his parents to convince them to let him go there. I wonder what that was about. Was it too far away, too expensive, too risky if he wasn't going to make a career out of it? I now understand how parents of college students think. He had already been to the Birmingham Conservatory of Music. He also attended Troy State for a while. I suppose he first went to Troy State, then to Birmingham C. of M., and then graduated from Northwestern.

In a car ride to Memphis, Tennessee, when Daddy was my transportation for "job hunting", he told me a lot of stories.

I was left with the impression, from his stories, that in his young adult years he wasn't eager to "settle down". He was the baby of the family and had lived a rather cushy lifestyle. I suppose Northwestern helped to mature him, and, also, his first job out of school, in Holly Springs, MS, and time in the Air Force during WWII. He wasn't involved in combat. He was stationed in Mississippi, working on airplanes. He was 34 by the time he met and married Mother. He was the new band director in Evergreen. She had moved back to Evergreen after living and working in Montgomery. She was 28 when they met and married.
What is it about Daddies and their daughters, or Mothers and daughters? It's two different relationships and they both have their unique characteristics. In my case, and I'm guessing Mary Ann's, it was a kind of hero thing. He ran a very tight ship, with the band, and at home. Yet, all he ever had to do was give me a look - it was in his whole face - and obedience happened. I wasn't scared of him, but there was very respectful fear.

Not the bad fear, but the healthy kind.

He was mostly fun and mostly happy. Very optimistic attitude - like it would all work out. He was not a worrier, not at all. There were some dark days for him, during the "turbulent sixties and early seventies" which impacted his career. Maybe another post on this blog, but not now. That's the only time I saw him really worry or be scared.

He wasn't a perfect person, and as a teenager I had issues with him, but hindsight puts him higher and higher on a pedestal. I've read that that is common with those we have loved, after they die. It began to happen for me before he died. I was getting older, and I knew he was fading away. My aging, and all these different stages, give me a better understanding of Mother and Daddy and all the things they experienced and lived through.

The big deal about Daddy is really the big deal about God.

When I was 15, Mom told me that Daddy had "given his life to Christ", that he'd become a Christian. That is how she put it. I didn't know what she was talking about and she had said the exact same thing to me regarding my aunt and uncle, the year before that. It is unusual for me not to ask questions, but I didn't. I don't know why I didn't because they were all in my head. All I could think was, "I thought they already were Christians - I thought all of us were already Christians". I just looked at her. I guess I thought they had just decided to get even more serious about it. We couldn't have gotten any churchier than we already were. Integrity had always abounded, and no outstanding vices. Daddy already guarded what we watched on television. I distinctly remember the lesson about always telling the truth. And, in a band lesson, when I was running my mouth, Daddy told me not to gossip - and that was in front of my friends. I replied to him, "but it really did happen", and he said, "but that is gossip and you don't need to repeat it". Here's a story about daddy and his reputation: My friends came to me, one Monday morning, during football season, as I'd put my books on my desk in homeroom - actually they rushed up to me - to tell me that Daddy had cussed on the band bus on Friday night. I knew my Daddy and I knew he didn't cuss. They knew it too and that was why they were telling me with much exclamation. We were all in the 7th grade, so cuss words at that age in 1963-64 were shocking. I told them that he most definitely had not and especially not in front of his students. To prove it, I went and asked him. I told them, "I'll just ask him and show you that he did not!" I was very smug about it. So I asked him. And.. with a head somewhat lowered and with a serious straightforward voice he told me that he had. He'd lost his temper when hit by a very large, wet spitball on the back of the neck. He'd had enough of the deafening noise, I suppose, and then to get hit by a spitball. Anyway, he pulled the bus over, stood up and I don't know what angry tirade came out of him, but some young male fool had the nerve to say, "I didn't throw it, Mr. Wilkerson!" And that was when he cussed. In his words he said, "I don't give a damn who threw it!". And then he made everybody sit down and be quiet. I don't remember the rest, but I'm guessing the rest of the ride home was very quiet.

Anyway, all of that before he "became a Christian" and before I did. Before either of us had understood the gospel of grace. The good news of grace.

That year Daddy had understood that our good works are like filthy rags to God and our sins sweep us away. He understood that we are all separated from a Holy God and that Jesus is our Savior, our redeemer. He understood that Christ's righteous life was a substitute for our fallen life. He understood that we get to be born again, brought to life, through faith in Christ and his work on the cross - and his resurrection. That year he said Yes to Christ. He was born again.

But that's not how he told it. Either he or Mom told me later that his response to whomever had shared the gospel with him was to say, "Well, if you mean have I ever prayed that prayer and actually asked Christ to come into my heart, well, no, I haven't."

And so, then, I guess he did.

It was his life and watching him grow, and conversations with him, that I know that the paragraph in italics above explain what he came to understand.

It took another year, and then, by God's grace, I understood, and I said Yes.

We also both understood that to live we had to be empowered by the Holy Spirit. That God didn't just give us saving grace, but enabling grace, to live like Christ.

"I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself up for me." Galatians 2:20

After that I watched both Mother(who had trusted Christ at an earlier date) and Daddy grow together, and it was a very nice thing, once I understood the gospel, to share all of that with Mom and Dad - We communicated on that eternal level. There was still "stuff" and we had to work through parent/child issues - but still - how blessed I was.

So here we are at the end of my post. And that is my Dad. I have now told about Mom and Dad. I said that I learned a lot from Mom. I learned a lot from both of them. They were really really good parents. It was all so much fun, and so secure.

More on Grandparents and Then I Want to Talk about Today

Well - I said so much about Ella in yesterday's post.

I loved her.  Can you tell?

To be fair - Ella was about 50 when I was born - so she had that in her favor - time to interact with me and all of her grandchildren - and the energy - plus we lived in the same town - and she was just very very maternal.  I know that she was.  I saw her in action.  Even when my children were around her and my cousin's children - she was rather aged by then - but had not lost her enthusiasm toward her offspring - not at all.

I remember the first time I took Ann home to Evergreen - she was 2 months old and I knew my aunt Florence was on her way over with Ella  to see Ann - I think Ella must have been 79 - and I was standing by the baby bed where Ann was and Ella came in the room with much excitement and laughter and speed and saying, "Oh, I can't wait to see what Elizabeth's baby looks like!"  I could have sworn I saw the glistening of tears in her eyes.  I think I did.

But.....my other grandmother - my daddy's mother -

Antoinette Murphree Wilkerson.  She was 79 when I was born.  She born in 1872 in Troy, AL

She had a gleeful smile and demeanor - a high laughter, I think.  She really was fond of Mary Ann and me and I think loved our little girl ways.  It was just always so much more formal at her house when we visited.  My favorite memory of her is during one of our visits - and I had to be very very young - like 3 or 4 - she walked me down Murphree Street where she had always lived and knew all of her neighbors - and she had me by the hand  -  I had on a very nice Sunday dress with a short full skirt - she was literally showing me off to all her neighbors.  I loved that.  They were oohing and ahhing over me and I was loving the attention - I can feel myself strutting and strolling and feeling very good about the situation.

Other memory - even now the smell of clean sheets remind me of visiting her.  Well, of course  -  I finally realized - it was because she naturally had had her maid (not herself) put clean sheets on the beds when we were coming to stay overnight.  Ivory Soap - simple plain soap smells to me like her bathroom.  It was very large with a clawfoot tub - the bathroom had a fireplace in it.  Her bedroom doors and I suppose all other doors had transoms over them.  Mary Ann and I usually slept in her sleighbed and besides smellling the clean sheets I can feel myself staring up at that transom and being a bit nervous - also on the mantel in that bedroom (all the rooms had a fireplace) was a picture of my dad when he was very young.  I would also stare at it.


(Edit to this post:  I found the picture of Daddy which I would stare at - periodically - besides the times I was laying in bed.  I was just curious about all of it - I knew it was a time when Daddy belonged to Grandmother and Granddaddy - and not to us - it was a mystery to me - they loved him first)

And - I remember one evening watching her comb her long thin gray hair before bed.  A classic image. When I saw the movie, Driving Miss Daisy, Jessica Tandy's character, Miss Daisy, reminded me so much of my grandmother.

Here, let me show you a picture

Below is a picture of Grandmother in 1936.  

She was 64.

and here she is a young lady, probably before she married

and probably in her parents' home in Troy.

Do you see the piece of furniture in the left side of the picture?

That is a music stand.  It is in Mary Ann's house now, in Evergreen.

But it was always in Grandmother's Library - across the room from her Baby Grand Piano.

When Grandmother had it, it had a burgundy curtain across the front of the shelves which held the piano music.  

Once when we were in Troy, Mother and Daddy were visiting some of Daddy's friends and had left Mary Ann and me with Grandmother and Granddaddy.  Not a common occurrence. 

Mary Ann and I were roaming about their large house and the memory has us in the Library

and I was curiously separating the burgundy curtain to see what was behind it.

At that moment G'mother and G'daddy appeared in the room

and with a very gentle, kind tone

told me not to bother the curtain or the music stand.

The whole situation was so very intimidating that I slipped away into the back bedroom and unintentionally fell asleep.  I woke up to Mother's face. She was waking me from my nap.

I have no recollection of how Mary Ann handled all of that.

Here's a sweet memory of Grandmother - she must have realized that Mary Ann and I were somewhat bored as all the adults conversed in the living room - or what they always called "The Front Hall" -

She invited Mary Ann and me to go out back with her and she showed us some mossy areas on the ground and gave us flat sticks to scrape up the moss.  It was something she had done as a child, I think.  I can't remember what we were supposed to do with the moss.  Also, she took us to a sandy area just outside the door of my Uncle Halbert's Art Studio/Work Shop and gave us, again, some sticks and told us how to recognize the holes of doodle bugs???? and how to use the sticks to coax them out.  I remember preferring the playing with the moss.  Wasn't too keen on the bugs.

There really are a lot of good memories of visiting my grandparents in Troy - it was just so different from our life in Evergreen.  So different - but with just as many, or more, relatives living there.  Not as many first cousins - only 4 - but Daddy had so many cousins and distant cousins there.  I was always under the impression we were related to just about everyone there.  Of course we weren't, but it felt like it. Well, Grandmother was one of 5 siblings and Granddaddy - well - he had multiple siblings - but it was Grandmother's family that always seemed to be in the forefront.

Something unique - when we went for a holiday dinner - like Christmas or Thanksgiving - we sat in their formal dining room and Grandmother had a little bell by her plate.  If we needed something, she'd ding a ling that little bell and magically would appear her very very very sweet and comfortable maid/cook, Willy.  Willy had a limp and had a few freckles over her nose - much like Morgan Freeman, the actor.  Do you know what I mean?

Willy had the best nature and disposition and is the cook I remember.  She always greeted us with many hugs when we drove up into their back yard.  I wonder, now, what she thought about her life, working there amongst the upper crust of Troy, AL - the deep, segregated south.  What did she think of all of us and our white ways and white opinions and white attitudes?  I have some things from Grandmother's kitchen - things I use.  A very large pot.  A rolling pin.  I have her enamelware table.  I love those things and while they belonged to Grandmother - I always think of Willy when I use them.  I imagine all that she did with those cooking utensils.  I think about her life.

I must end this post.

Looks like there might be a few more things I'll want to say on the subject.

I hope I can remember what I wanted to say about today.

It had a lot to do with a conversation I had in Express Lube today.

Just the different kinds of personalities we can run into during our daily routines.

Remembering Daddy

Yesterday, as I sat on the couch, having been awakened from a short nap by the sounds of Andrew - Kate had gotten him when he woke up from his very long nap - again - as I sat on the couch - and after Ann had come fully awake - well - semi-fully awake - sitting across from me in the living room - I remembered the date.  August 8th.  and I said,

"Awww.  today is the date of Daddy's death.  August 8th - and also he died on a Sunday".  We thought about that and did the math - 17 years.

Then I chuckled and said it was also the date our cat Muffin died.  Because as we were leaving for Evergreen, having packed after Mother's phone call - which came very early that morning - our neighbors called to say they had found our cat in the road.  Sad.  We had to tell the girls about that.  Laura Beth was 11 and responded with some drama.  I don't remember it, but she has laughed and told me she said, through tears, "Why is God doing this to me??!!"  You know, Granddaddy and Muffin dying on the same day.  Well, we took it all in stride and drove to Evergreen - Mother and Mary Ann were traveling from Montgomery to Evergreen and we would stay with our different family members in Evergreen.

It's been 17 years and I don't take lightly the passing away of Daddy, nor of anyone else - especially those I love with that familial love.  But it's been 17 years and I don't do grieving in a demonstrative way - not usually - except when it overtakes me in certain situations.

But still, I've been thinking about Daddy.  Of course I'll always miss him until I see him again in heaven.  I'm so glad I know that he's there.  And Mother.

anyway - I want to share these pictures which I've considered before.  Perhaps it's inappropriate on this blogpost - but I took these pictures of Daddy when he was in the nursing home - it was right before he became so dehydrated and had to be hospitalized.  Perhaps it's morbid.  I wondered that at the time - but I didn't want to forget how it was just because I wanted to respect what had happened.  Time goes by and I remember things but wonder if I remember correctly.  Am I exaggerating, have I distorted the image?  So, with these pictures, which I don't look at very often - they're tucked away in a book way out of sight and out of daily reach - but I pulled them out.

Careful - not pleasant to look at - at least not to me.

It was during these days I asked God, "What's the point? Why not let him be in heaven with You."

It was when Daddy was in this position that I'd sit on the floor under him, looking up at him, and sing hymns to him - to feed his soul what he knew and I wondered if he was troubled by my being "off key" or "flat".  I couldn't help it, I sang anyway. 

Mother insisted that he stay this well dressed, with cap on - she wanted him "looking his best" as long as he could. "Looking 'dapper' ", I guess is the word.

I found this poem back then when he was so ravaged:

If I might only love my God and die!

But now He bids me love Him and live on,

Now when the bloom of all my life is gone,

The pleasant half of life has quite gone by.

My tree of hope is lopped that spread so high;

and I forget how summer glowed and shone,

While autumn grips me with its fingers wan,

and frets me with its fitful windy sigh.

When autumn passes then must winter numb,

And winter may not pass a weary while,

But when it passes spring shall flower again:

And in that spring who weepeth now shall smile,

Yea, they shall wax who now are on the wane,

Yea, they shall sing for love when Christ shall come.

I learned at the time, that death is certainly God's business and He has His appointed time for everyone.  Daddy's would not be hurried or rushed and it felt as if it was Daddy's last surrender of himself, to live like that so that Mother, Mary Ann, and I could be even more shaped on the potter's wheel. 

But when we had his memorial service and burial we sang all the verses of 

Crown Him with Many Crowns, the Lamb Upon His Throne...

I imagined that Daddy was laying his crown at the feet of Jesus and falling prostrate before the sight of his Savior and at least we, still on earth, could sing the hymn with him - partake in that chorus of praise which goes on in heaven.

After the funeral, after everything, we gathered at my aunt, Mary's, house for lunch and fellowship.

This is what we used to do at a family gathering - but there are so few left to do it anymore - 

Here we all are on that day -

Mary is playing the piano and various cousins are singing what Daddy taught them all to sing -

It's that benediction - "The Lord Bless You and Keep You" -

The man cupping his hands over his ears, that's my cousin, John Wilkerson - Daddy's nephew -

We were all rather amazed - he looked so much like Daddy and his singing voice was just like Daddy's - 

Here he is talking with my cousin, Scott - my mother's sister's son.

Mother, my cousin, Tommy Wilkerson, John W's brother, and Florence, mother's sister.

and below, still singing

and everyone listening and amazed at the sound of the voices,

especially John's who sounded so much like Daddy.

That was in 1993, and now Mother, Lucille (next to mother)

and Waynard, on the couch next to the lamp, are all in heaven also.

That's Kate in the bottom right corner peeking around at the camera.

She was 5.

Charlie on the right talking with my cousins, Scott and John W.

and below my uncle, John Law, laughing with my cousin, Rusty in the tie.  

They're looking at someone, it could be any one of the family members who have just said something to get everyone tickled.  Those were our family gatherings - so much fun.

I remember that day - it was just the kind of day Daddy would have enjoyed - 

but heck, he was in HEAVEN!  That's the best.

Another family gathering - same mix of folks - in 1950 or so.

Laughing.

and here

and Daddy at his best

Actually, this, below, is probably Daddy at his best, but I didn't know him in this picture, and neither did Mother - so certainly not Mary Ann - this was during the Air Force time and after whatever basic training he'd been thru.  My vote for best is his prime as Daddy - the essence of his being my Dad.

Mother and Daddy

With Pictures

Yesterday marked the 63rd anniversary of Mother and Daddy's Wedding Day.  Daddy died August 8, 1993, so they had been married 46 years when he died.

The last 3 months of Daddy's life, Mother lived with Mary Ann in Montgomery, AL while Daddy was in a nursing home there, in the final stages of Alzheimer's Disease.  Each morning Mother would drive to the nursing home around 8:00 am and would return to Mary Ann's apartment at about 5:00 ish.  She spent the whole day with him at the nursing home, every day, for 3 months.  

During that time, and I think it might have been the week before he died, I was in Montgomery for a week with Mother.  Mary Ann, a friend, and my four girls, had gone to the beach.  My girls were 12, 11, 7, and 5 at the time.  I was 42.  Daddy was 80.  Mother was 76.  Mary Ann, 44.  Montgomery is so close to Evergreen, so I talked Mother into letting me drive her down to see her sisters for the day.  She did, with reservation - not wanting to leave Daddy for even a day.  (in fact, he may have been in the hospital at that point with dehydration - because we couldn't get him to eat or drink in the nursing home - we were so glad for him to be in the hospital - just under that kind of care)  So - we did drive down for the day and had lunch at Florence's house, along with the other sisters and 2 remaining brothers in law.  

Here is a picture taken that day with the sisters sitting on Florence's hearth.  They were all being funny - always when together - especially Florence - but they all have their own humor - so much laughter always - There was a sequence of these pictures which revealed all the laughter, but in this one I caught mom with a look of distraction - I remember that day, she couldn't completely get Daddy off her mind - his being up in Montgomery without us - without her - I know that we did have to run by the nursing home, or hospital, that afternoon when we returned to M'gomery.

Mother, Florence, Mary and Lucille.  August 1993.  Now Mother and Lucille are in heaven.  Mary is in Evergreen, and Florence is living in Tallahassee with her daughter.  John Law, Mary's husband, is the only living Brother-in-law.

But, when it all began, August 3, 1947, Mother and Daddy looked like this.

I like this double exposure - accident, but I like it.

and then, some memorabilia from her Bride's Book

The wedding announcement (not an invitation)

and a page out of Mother's Bride's Book about a party held for her on July 29, 1947

Here is a picture, not of that party, but during the same time, approximately, and a similar party

with Mother on the right and the other ladies were a part of the party given for Mother in July.

Okay, I'll just tell you,

left to right

Betty Su Bozeman, Mildred Murphy, Lanelle Newton, and Mother.

Mother's friends.  I know them.

And the cover of Mother's book

And a card, in the book, from Daddy to Mother on their First Anniversary.

August 3, 1948.

So - there you are - I am incredibly grateful for the legacy I happen to have in solid marriages.  Those that stick - that have no back doors - no question marks.  No looking about with doubts and distrust and wondering.  Not without conflict - not without ordinary and plain - always needing a little jumpstarting here and there - but ever faithful to jumpstart it.  Seasons of growth, seasons of learning and being broken, and giving up of selfish wants - blending the two - learning to give, finally. 

It's a gift from God - and I don't know why.

We could just as easily have been a family with generations of "stuff" which destroys marriages - and if we were God could redeem all of that.  I don't mean to be self-righteous.  It's just a gift and with it a responsibility to pass it on and learn from it and lend to others.

For a child in that, there is incredible safety and comfort.  amazing.  I wish all children could live in that kind of peace.  Even the conflict carries with it a knowledgable hope that it will be resolved and will be better than before.

Band Camp, Some More

While we're on the subject

and while my camera is away being repaired

and since I have kazillion old photos - I mean - a lot!

I might as well show anyone who read yesterday's post

what band camp looked like in Auburn, in 1955-56-57

Just a few.

First, a disclaimer:  It is often said that in posting on blogs - the writer will not be transparent about failure, about shortcomings, just about the way "it" really is - perfect mother, perfect friend, perfect grandmother - even when we're making an effort to be transparent - well - who's gonna give the whole story?  I'll tell you right now - you're gonna have to take my word for it - this blogger is so insanely ordinary and not spectacular and, and, and.....well - it's probably gonna stay pretty general.  Unless God gets specific about telling me to "air dirty laundry" - it's not that easy or wise to do - but - I'm willing to answer questions and be honest.  Got any questions?  


But this disclaimer isn't about that - what I wanted to say is - my pride really rears its very ugly head, and this could be a pun, when it comes to bad pictures.  Trouble is, most of my pictures are bad.  I don't mean I always look bad, but just, darn it, not photogenic.  The camera catches me in the weirdest faces. We all know that some people look better in pictures than they do in real life.  Well, the flip side is, and I hope hope hope this is so - that some of us look better in real life than in pictures.  If I look better in pictures than in real life - well - just don't anybody tell me.  Again - my pride - I'm not that broken yet.  I guess I am - I can handle it.  I'm getting closer to heaven everyday and I'll be gorgeous there.


Anyway - do any of us want to put up a bad photo?  Not this girl - and  the good ones are hard to find.


So - out of respect for my dear mom and dad - and for the love of their memory - I hate putting up bad pictures of them - and these old ones  - styles were really different - and - well - I've looked for the best ones.  There were a lot that weren't the best - I nixed them.


Whew!  That was a long disclaimer.  It was a whole post!

So - band camp and what life looked like there, in Auburn, when I was missing Daddy in Evergreen, AL.

Here they are practicing - and yeah - are you like me?  Do those majorettes have on bathing suits?

Next Picture, below:

My Dad is 2nd from the right. 4th from the left.

with band directors from Florala, Enterprise, Anniston and Elmore County.

Wonder what they're talking about and what each one is thinking.

Looks like the BD from Elmore County on the far right is telling something, and their eyes are on him.

But what are they thinking?

It's band camp, it's competition, it's men.

Interesting, the body language.

In the next picture:

The guy looking back, with sunglasses, is Bill Haynes.

During the season when students' parents bought them instruments, 

Bill Haynes was a fixture in our house and at the bandroom.

He worked for Art's Music Store in Montgomery.

Our car went straight to that store in downtown Montgomery during those years - when we made our pilgrimage to Montgomery via highway 31.

Bill Haynes could play the clarinet very well - which I realized in a surprised sort of way when he performed with our band during practice one day.  I thought he just sold instruments. 

Of course he was a musician.  It had never occurred to me.

More practice - again- the majorettes - Is that the earliest version of the stadium, there in the background?

Next,

The 1956-57 band - the one Daddy took to camp - when I missed him so - and all the other ones too -

until I grew too old to think he was the only love of my life.  That would probably be 1st grade, when I became aware of C. W.

And while we're on the subject of bands - below is Daddy's first band in Holly Springs, MS.

He was fresh out of Northwestern University.  December 14th, 1939 is handwritten on the back of the photo, and that is 26 year old Frank Wilkerson (Dad) on the front row, left - in the suit.

for some reason, I love this next picture.

While Daddy is still younger than I ever remember - I think it's 1947 -

I recall the lowered head - when he turned around after a performance, for a slight bow.

In the middle row, 3rd from left is my aunt, Mary.  She probably knew Daddy before Mother did.

She was still in school when Mother met "the new band director, Frank Wilkerson".

and the 1962-63 band.  I know so many of these people.

The head majorette is my cousin, Suzanne.

The one who has been in many of my recent "cousin" posts.

I suppose this is as large as any EHS band grew.

Wasn't big - but for us - in those days - it was good.

Andalusia, we knew, had a bigger band.

T.R. Miller?  I think maybe.

then the city ones - well - and we didn't' even know there was a place called Scottsboro, AL. At least, I didn't.

How can I not include my senior year?  In color!!!

I'm finally a majorette - after 2 tryouts I made it on the 3rd.

I'm on the right - third from the right, middle row.

That's it.

Wonder when they're gonna have my camera ready?  2 to 3 weeks?

Whoa - lots of delving into the past!