Sunday, January 10, 2010

Thank Goodness... I'm not

For this week’s TAKE THIS TUNE, Jamie has chosen a tune by Ray Stevens titled: I Am My Own Grandpa. Ray Stevens has done a long list of silly/parody songs… this one included. And I do like his musical comedy. Personally, my favorite is “Mississippi Squirrel Revival” – along with the video (cute kids).

This brought me back to what I was investigating when I stopped blogging back in August or September. I never knew either of my grandfathers very well. My father was a mystery to me as well. I spent a lot of time investigating what made them tick. Well, I may not have figured that out, but I think I understand my father and his father better for having done the investigating.

My father’s father (Grandpa Johnson) passed away suddenly of a heart attack when I was about 8 years old. I thought I should cry over it, but never really did. I learned a lot about him through a journal that my Aunt Micky (dad’s much younger sister) kept… actually, my inquiries prodded her to begin her writing again. The following is the last piece that she sent me. She is almost 90 years old and I have left it as she wrote it. Todd School for Boys was the academia and Camp Tosebo was the summer boys camp associated with the school.


This all happened before I was born but they are stories that have been told in the family. My father, A E Johnson, came to Todd as a teacher after he graduated from Hiram College. When he married he was given West Cottage where my brother and sister were born. When the then headmaster left, the family was moved to the headmaster’s cottage and Dad took the duties as headmaster.

At one point Dad left for a year to find a new position. However he was lured back with the promise that he would run the school after Noble Hill retired. That promise was never fulfilled and my mother was very bitter about it

During this time Noble Hill’s son Roger attended the University of Illinois and married Hortence Gettys. My humble opinion is that had her eye on the school. Anyhow, when Noble Hill retired the school went to Roger and Camp Tosebo went to Noble’s daughter Carol. Roger did not yet have his degree so Dad had to sign official papers.

As far as A E Johnson’s presence at Tosebo, early in his career at Todd, he was given the choice of recruiting students or being on the staff of the new camp. We are all glad that he chose the camp.

As a young boy Orson Welles came as a student and became like a son to Roger Hill. Orson considered himself a genius and had some effect on the activities at Todd. There was a greater emphasis on dramatics.
Dad kept up the academic standards quietly. This side did not get the publicity that the dramas and athletics did. Dad also taught the printing. He also helped with the building of the stage coach and the barn for the horses.

I feel a little unhappy and cheated that my father’s memory seems to be forgotten in history of Todd School.

~Mildred Johnson Thomas~

My father passed away in 2002 at the age of 90. He had Alzheimers. He was a strict father and was closed to people on the emotional level. At some point I thought it might have been because my sister and I were adopted. He was closed emotionally to my children also. But when the disease set in and the great grandchildren came along, he had such a big loving heart I couldn’t believe it was the same man -- there were much less of the prior emotional inhabitions. That love had been hiding inside all along. In hindsight, I believe that he was never shown or taught to show his emotions. Men NEED to do this as well as do women.

I am still sad that I didn’t know these men better – that I didn’t see inside their hearts, and brains – before they passed into a brighter light.

So I tell those who matter that I love them... and I tell them as often as possible.

Thanks for stopping by... you have a great day and I will too.

Friday, January 8, 2010

A Pet Peeve -- comes to light

I have a new pet peeve.

Monday through Friday I take my son to work. It’s something I can do for him because I couldn’t do more for him while he was growing up (he is still “growing up” – aren’t we all?). Anyway, we always listen to the morning DJs (Dave and Susan) on a local country station. This morning’s topic made me extremely angry. Tell me what you think… please.

Dave went through a red light on Christmas Eve (he says it was 4 a.m.). The camera at the light took his picture and in the mail yesterday he got a ticket for $371 and the copy of his picture in his car running the light. Apparently in the two years that he has been living in the Sacramento area, he hasn’t bothered to get a California driver’s license either. Now he is panicking because he has to go to court to get all this straightened out. His first stupid move was to admit to anything on this public method of communication (the radio station). You just don’t do that. I couldn’t help myself; I sent him the following email:

“Dave... I listen to you and Susan every morning. Now, I may regret this, but here goes. Get over it! Pay the ticket and get over it! YOU made the decision to not stop for a red light and to not get a California license. All this crap is YOUR responsibility... not Susan's, not mine, not the little guy in my review mirror... it's YOURS. Attitudes like yours make it really difficult for parents to instill respect for laws that are made for ALL OF US. Get over it and get legal.”

I guess this has always been a pet peeve of mine, but now I have voiced it publicly. Why do those personalities who are in the spotlight (be it a radio personality or President of the United States) feel that they are above the law? It sure would make it easier on all parents if these human beings admitted they were human and owed up to their mistakes.

Mama always said: It’s easier to remember the truth than many lies.

Thanks for stopping by...

Tuesday, January 5, 2010



Perhaps a bit wiser,
a bit kinder, too;
a little bit braver,
a heart that's more true;
a touch of believing
I've not known before;
in joys I'm receiving
perhaps a little bit more.

A little more anxious
to reach out my hand;
despite hurt or problems
to still understand;
accepting the heartache
that life often brings;
a little more beauty
in life's simple things.

A prayer when I'm weary
as onward I trod,
a little more trusting,
believing in God,
'tis this I would wish
for within moments dear,
not a lot - just a little –
this wondrous new year.

~ Garnett Ann Schultz ~