Where Were You When the World Stopped Turning That September Day?

Where were you when the world stopped turning that September day

Out in the yard with your wife and children, Working on some stage in LA

Did you stand there in shock at the site of that black smoke rising against that blue sky

Did you shout out in anger in fear for your neighbor, or did you just sit down and cry

Did you weep for the children Who lost their dear loved ones, and pray for the ones who don't know

Did you rejoice for the people who walked from the rubble, and sob for the ones left below

Did you burst out in pride for the red white and blue, the heroes who died just doing what they do

Did you look up to heaven for some kind of answer, and look at yourself to what really matters

I'm just a singer of simple songs I'm not a real political man, I watch CNN but I'm not sure I can tell you the difference in Iraq and Iran But I know Jesus and I talk to God, and I remember this from when I was young

Faith hope and love are some good things he gave us

And the greatest is love

Where were you when the world stopped turning that September day

Teaching a class full of innocent children...

Yep, that's where I was Alan, and I remember it like it was yesterday. I was in the middle of a good math lesson with my second graders, when our assistant principal, Cheryl Harrison, knocked at my door, and motioned to me. The smile she usually had on her face was gone. She told me that the Pentegon had been attacked, and so had the World Trade Center towers. She had no further information, just instructed me to NOT turn on the TV.

As I went back to the front of my classroom, math was the farthest thing from my mind. All I wanted to do was get to my 1 year old son. I wanted to hug him so tightly, and never let him go. I was three months pregnant with Braxton, and wondered what was going on, and how would it affect my children. I wondered how was this going to affect these innocent children in front of me. Time stood still. The world stopped turning that September day.

Thankfully, PE time came shortly, and I rushed them down the hall, so I could get to Cheryl's office to watch the coverage. I remember sitting there with my fellow second grade teachers and our assistant principal, as we watched unbelievingly as the first tower fell. There was no need for words, and I don't remember any being said at that moment. Shortly before we had to pick up our kids from PE, the second tower fell in front of our eyes. There would be no more "teaching a class full of innocent children" for us that day. Time stood still. The world stopped turning that September day.

At recess, I stood there watching those second graders playing happily, having no idea what had happened. Innocence. Laughter. Arguments. Playfulness. More innocence. I could only look at them and ponder the thought, "What is our world going to be like for these children as they grow up?" "What is life going to be like for my son and my unborn child?"When the bell rang, I couldn't get home fast enough. And I did hug my child, and I did not let go for a very long time. For time stood still on that beautiful, sunny, dreadful September day.

And here we are nine years later. I don't want to get into the politics of the ensuing wars, nor the battle of Christian vs. Islam. I don't want to watch videos of the towers burning; I've seen it all before, and I already know how it makes me feel. How it makes us all feel. I prefer to remember my one visit to those towers way back in the spring of 1990. My parents took us to NYC and Washington instead of sending me on the senior cruise. I remember standing at the top of one of the towers and looking down at the beautiful city below. And as we left New York City, I turned around, so I could see that beautiful skyline...accented by those twin towers...until they faded away in the distance. We remember. We remember the innocent lives that were lost that day...in New York, Washington, DC, and in a field in Pennsylvania. We remember the bravery of Americans that day. And we remember the bravery of our American troups who have fought so hard overseas. We will never forget when the world stopped turning that September day.

The Birds and the Bees and the Naked Japanese

Shih Tzu originally were bred in China, but Japan is close enough, so here we go.

We are in the process of breeding our beautiful chocolate male Shih Tzu, Chip, to our precious, sweet female, Rose. I have only bred one litter of puppies before, back in 1999, pre-kids. Those Shih Tzu parents were my female Farrah, and my sister's male, Eli. We never witnessed the breeding, we just saw her belly swell, and a few weeks later, we had six beautiful puppies. I loved that experience, and have craved forever to experience it again.

So here we are. Rose is in heat, and Chip is what they call "sexually mature." I was expecting an experience similar to my previous one. Visions of Rose's belly getting bigger, followed by an easy birth of cute little rats filled my head. No intentions of witnessing the actual act, just eagerly anticipating the birth of these cute puppies in a couple of months.

Well. Chip obviously does not have the gentlemanly demeanor that his predecessor Eli did. (What am I saying? Eli got his own daughter pregnant!!) I could seriously write the canine version of Young and the Restless. But I digress.

These past few days have been a learning experience for both me and my three young sons. In my 38 years, I have never seen dogs tie up. I have seen the humping many times, and I am not proud to say that my leg has even been the recipient of such in the past. But this...THIS...is something I have never seen before in my life. I have led a sheltered life, I suppose. What happens is, (for those of you as sheltered as I once was) the boy dog humps, humps, HUMPS, then he shakes his legs real fast, and then he turns around. Only instead of smoking a post-coital cigarette as was the fashion back in the day, or even simply spooning for a bit, these two lovebirds are "stuck together at the butt" as my eight year old son Braxton so eloquently puts it.

Which leads me to this. I have not discussed the birds and the bees with my sons yet. (Why do they call it the birds and the bees? - Why not call it the cows and the horses? You're more likely to see them doing it while driving down the road than birds or bees. In fact, I don't think I have EVER seen birds OR bees mating for that matter.) But anyway...I'm digressing a lot tonight, aren't I! We haven't had THE TALK. In fact, when we got Chip, I told the boys that one day we hoped that Chip and Rose would have puppies. Nathan shared that tidbit with his friends at EXPLO (Grady County's gifted class) and one of his "gifted" friends told my "gifted" son that girl dogs got pregnant and had puppies only if you put the girl and boy dog outside in the sun together in a cage for two weeks. You could bring them in at night to feed them, and let them cool off, but they had to get back out in the sun the next day. And my "gifted" son believed this, and still does for all I know. I thought it was cute, and didn't tell him any different.

Then, this week, I was getting ready in my bathroom, and Nathan and Braxton come back there screaming, "Something is wrong with Chip and Rose!" I was like, "What!? I've got to get ready - I do not have time for this!" I go into the living room, and see them stuck together, butt to butt. Rose is not happy AT ALL, but Chip is just chillin. I swear the dog looked like he was smiling. I told the boys he must have a claw stuck in her fur, and it would come out eventually, and not to worry about it.

Then when we got home that afternoon he went after her again. Right in the middle of my living room. The AUDACITY! Poor Rose. This time though, Nathan decided to get a closer look. He informed me that it wasn't a claw, but he wasn't sure why they were sticking together like that. Then came question after question after question...and I just said I don't know, I don't know, I don't know. That's just what dogs do sometimes, I guess. Then today, after their latest romp, Braxton informed us all that he had figured it all out. Rick and I waited with bated breath. And here it is:

"I know why they are stuck together. I figured it out. They've got suction cups on their butts, and that makes them stick together!"

Oh my.

Daddy's Little Girl

I went to my obgyn yesterday, and got the news that I may need to have surgery on my urethra. Not very polite dinner table conversation, so I won't go into it here. But, the reason that I mention this, is because the first person that I told about my "female" problems was my daddy. After I talked to him, and as I was driving home, I laughed about this. Man, I must be really close to my daddy if I'm willing to share this kind of stuff with him! And then I started reflecting...

I've always been close to my daddy. As a child, I remember watching the clock, waiting for him to come home from work. He would finally pull up, and our St. Bernard, Butch, and I would run to greet him. Butch would grab one arm, and I would grab the other. I have fond memories of childhood. I remember Daddy coming home for lunch during the summer, quickly eating a sandwich, then coming outside to spray Livi and I with the water hose to cool us off. Later on, when we bought a house with a pool, we missed those water hose days where we didn't have to vacuum the pool every weekend! Daddy wanted us to have nice things, but he also instilled in us the importance of taking care of those nice things. And to him the most important nice things that you can take care of is your family. And he has done that well.

My daddy has always worked hard, he is a devout Christian, and I have always been proud to be his daughter. He has never been one to raise his voice; he could always get us back in line with a simple look or with his soft spoken words. Mama used to say, "Johnny, you see the world through rose tinted glasses!" She would get annoyed sometimes at his incessant positivity. But it worked, and it still does. As teenagers, when Livi and I were trying to spread our wings, we got many of those talks, and many of those looks! But the best talks that I have had with my daddy were on the swing out by the pool. Whenever I was feeling down, I would go out to the swing, and sure enough, minutes later, here would come Daddy. His words of wisdom never failed to bring me out of my darkest times.

I remember one of the darkest days; the day he and Mama came to the house to tell me that his heart was failing, and that he needed surgery immediately. Only, since his heart was in such bad shape, they were having trouble finding a doctor willing to do the surgery. This man, my rock, whom I thought was invincible, was telling me that if he didn't have surgery, he may have about a month or two left with us. My world was shaken. For the first time, I had to imagine the possibility of a life without my daddy. I couldn't.

Thankfully, he did find a doctor, and now, 11 years later he is still with us. Still working hard, still trying to do everything that he did before, and getting frustrated when he tires out. This is a man who went back to work two days after getting a new defibrillator put in. However, as strong as he is, I no longer take him for granted. I cherish every moment. I love watching him interact with his grandchildren. I love how their eyes light up when they talk about Nana & Papa. I love how they look forward to swimming with him, and riding the bikes that he fixed up for them. I love how Welles wants me to tell him the story of the Three Bears and Goldilocks every single night. Only in our version, it's Nana Bear, Papa Bear, and Baby Welles Bear. And Papa Bear fixes the chair that Goldilocks breaks, and Nana Bear gives him new oatmeal (we say oatmeal instead of porridge) since Goldilocks ate all of his. I'm so thankful my children have been given the chance to know this amazing man. I hope they all grow up to be just like him.

And I see that he interacts with them much like he did and still does with Livi and me. One look is usually all it takes. Sometimes he gives them (and us) a talk. And always, everything revolves around love. Love others. Love yourself. And most importantly, love the Lord. If you do those things, everything else will usually take care of itself.

Now,even though I am grown and am quickly approaching the big 4-0, his words still comfort me, and they always will. I love you, Daddy. You have always been, and continue to be the rock that keeps me grounded, that keeps me full of hope. Keep on wearing those "rose tinted glasses." They become you well.

School's Out For Summer

Another year has passed. Wow. So hard to believe. I now have a 5th grader and a 3rd grader. I will be teaching one of my children next year, just not the one that I expected.

I have been teaching 5th grade science & social studies for the past 3 years. I remember my interview at Whigham 3 years ago, and the question was asked of me, what would be your favorite and least favorite subjects to teach. As a second grade teacher who loved seeing the 'light bulb' go off when my students 'got it' in reading, I was excited about hopefully moving to Whigham School and taking over a new 2nd grade position that would be opening up. My answer was, "I love teaching reading, and my least favorite subjects would be science and social studies." Of course I elaborated, but you get the general idea.

Well I got the transfer, and was so happy and excited. Then I got the phone call from my new principal saying that they wouldn't be getting a new 2nd grade position after all, and she needed me to teach 5th grade...science and social studies. Of course, I said, "Sure, whatever you need me to do!" But inside, I wasn't so sure. Now, three years later, I have grown to love those subjects and their importance to our lives and our students' lives. Our children need to know our history. They need to know the origins of our great country, the struggles we have endured, the ugly, the pretty...all of it. They need to know the progress we have made, the triumphs and mistakes we have made as a country, and how we are continuing to work to correct those mistakes. And how the reason we can be proud to be Americans is not because we are simply from "America," but because we do learn from our mistakes, and how our great constitution was designed in such a way that it can be amended to reflect the needs and desires of the majority of our voting population and the people that we elect to represent us. I appreciate our local community leaders and veterans who were more than eager to bring our nation's great history alive for our young students.

These three years have flown by. What I thought was my 'least favorite' became my favorite. I have been so excited about teaching Nathan about the War Between the States, cowboys, WWs I and II, and the tragic events of 9/11 and America's response. I won't get to do that in the classroom. But I will teach Nathan, just as I have since the day he was born.

I will, however, have the opportunity to teach my second son, Braxton. He is an awesome kid. Not perfect by any means, but as I prayed about this, I realized that Nathan will do fine in science and social studies - his favorite subjects. And I feel that Braxton would most benefit from mama right now. And now, I have the opportunity to go back to my original love, teaching children to read. And although I'm sad that I won't be in the classroom teaching the son that I thought I would be teaching, I am so excited about teaching the son that I will be teaching. But honestly, we will all be teaching each other for many years to come - those boys teach me more than they realize.

Dogs I Have Loved - Farrah

We who choose to surround ourselves with lives even more temporary than our own, live within a fragile circle, easily & often breached. Unable to accept its awful gaps, we still would live no other way. We cherish memory as the only certain immortality, never fully understanding the necessary plan.
Irving Townsend

Livi was with us the day after mine and Rick's first Christmas together as a married couple when that dear, sweet, little five week old puppy entered our lives; and she was with me seven years later when that same cherished puppy left us with only our many fond memories.

Some have said that the hardest part of pet ownership is the knowledge that you will one day have to say goodbye. I have found this statement to be not entirely true. The hardest part of pet ownership is the day you actually say goodbye, and the days that follow.

A heartsick four year old, at first inconsolable, moving on to quiet reflectiveness, then asking the impossible questions full of concern and sadness, the childlike voice incongruent with a depth of thought beyond its years.

The first time you return home to an empty house and the agony in the knowledge that she is gone forever; no wagging tails waiting to greet you, no furry kisses.

A two year old, with no concept of death and its finality, standing in the yard calling out for the beloved pet that will never return.

The things that used to annoy you; such as the incessant clawing at the back door, ruining the newly painted door, are the things you begin to miss the most. You realize that she was only trying to be near you. The silence is deafening.

The habits that you can't seem to break. Opening the back door first thing in the morning so she can go out. Saving scraps to share with her. Who ever thought that throwing away porkchop bones could fill you with such sadness?

Coming home from church on a Sunday morning, seeing a toy dumptruck out of the corner of your eye, and thinking it is her. The sinking feeling in your heart when you realize that it is not. The amazement at the human mind and its ability to see what it is desperate to see, even if only for a split second.

Staring at the food and water bowls that you can't seem to make yourself empty and put away. There is something comforting about looking at the little dent she left in her food the last time she ate. The realization that she probably never even took a sip of the fresh water that you poured for her minutes before her death.

But worst of all is the memory of her lying there on the ground motionless that will be forever engraved in my mind. Livi saying, "She's not moving, Mantha." Me whipping the car around, and running up to her hoping beyond all reasonable hope that she just happened to take a little rest for a minute and would hop up, tail wagging, once she heard my voice. All that hope was extinguished the moment I saw her little face. There was no blood, but her eyes told me she was gone. While Livi ran into the house to call Mama, I crouched down over that precious baby, hugging her and calling her name as she drew her final shuddering breaths. As Livi and I irrationally contemplated taking her to the vet, she gave one last little shudder and was still. My sweet little puppy was gone. We gently picked her up and took her to the back yard, not wanting Nathan to see her should Mama come back by. Mama, in her infinite wisdom and motherly nature, thought of this first and called Daddy to come over instead. Dale Jr. couldn't have gotten here faster. One look at that white truck coming around from the back of the park opened the floodgates. My daddy, my saving grace, was here to help. The man who can fix anything and make it all better was here. I could let go and cry now. Daddy would take care of everything. After checking for a pulse and confirming what we already knew, giving some much needed hugs and comforting words, he told us he would take care of her and give her a proper burial. And in spite of his painful back problems, he did. Thank you, Daddy. Thank you, Mama. And thank you, Livi. I know you all loved her as much as we did.

Night, night my sweet little "Fuh Fuh." You are sorely missed, and your passing has left our hearts broken into a million tiny pieces. Run free now in Doggie Heaven with your beloved Mahlie and Eli, while we remain here, wistfully remembering the three of you. How precious you were to us and how deeply you are missed.

Happy birthday Pepaw...May 3, 1915 - May 8, 1992

I have so many happy memories of my Memaw and Pepaw. I couldn't begin to describe how important they were to me and my sister as we grew up. They loved us. We were their only two grandchildren, and they spoiled us absolutely rotten. I remember Pepaw and his chicken farm, and how we used to love to see the biddies right after they hatched. And how he would let us play with them, and how he loved to sing in church. His favorite song was Higher Ground...and we sang it at his funeral. Pepaw was the first family member of mine that I loved to pass away. I remember his heart attack from a few months earlier, and the doctor saying that he wouldn't survive another one. I remember that the day before he died, our parents went to visit him and memaw...but as teenagers who thought that life lasted forever, my sister and I chose not to join them. I will regret that to my dying day. I remember my daddy waking me up that Sunday morning, telling me Pepaw was gone; his daddy was gone. That was the day that I grew up. Memaw coming to the house saying, "John just went to get gas...he'll be back any minute now." That's when I realized my Memaw, my love, was also changed forever. Life changed for us that day, but the memories from before, the love, the happiness, those memories will remain forever. There was a song that was popular at the time...called "Love, Me," by Collin Raye. It reminded me so much of my grandparents, and as we drove from the church to the cemetery to bury Pepaw, it played on the radio. I want to share those lyrics, and think about the love that was shared for many decades between my Memaw and my Pepaw. Happy birthday, Pepaw...hope to see you again one day...you have reached that "Higher Ground" that we all hope to reach one day. I love you.

I read a note my Grandma wrote back in 1923
Grandpa kept it in his coat, and he showed it once to me
He said, "Boy, you might not understand, but a long, long time ago,
Grandma's daddy didn't like me none, but I loved your Grandma so.

We had this crazy plan to meet and run away together
Get married in the first town we came to and live forever
But nailed to the tree where we were supposed to meet instead
I found this letter, and this is what it said :

"If you get there before I do
Don't give up on me
I'll meet you when my chores are through
I don't know how long I'll be

But I'm not gonna let you down
Darling wait and see
And between now and then
Til I see you again

I'll be loving you
Love, Me."

I read those words just hours before my Grandma passed away
In the doorway of the church where me and Grandpa stopped to pray
I know I've never seen him cry in all my fifteen years
But as he said these words to her, his eyes fill up with tears

"If you get there before I do
Don't give up on me
I'll meet you when my chores are through
I don't know how long I'll be

But I'm not gonna let you down
Darling wait and see
And between now and then
Til I see you again

I'll be loving you
Love, Me

Pepaw (John Henry Hurst) has two great-grandchildren who bear his name...Braxton John Harrell and Henry Oliver Bonham. He will forever be remembered by both of his granddaughters, and his name will live on through their 0ffspring. Braxton was named after both his great-grandfather and his grandfather, John Ronald Hurst. Livi and I were both pregnant at the same time in 2007. If Henry or Welles had've been a girl, their name would have been Lillian, after our Memaw. When Livi gave birth to Henry, I was so excited...because at the time, I didn't know Welles' sex. I was hoping I would get to use Lillian, but no such luck. Hopefully, through our stories, one of these kids will choose to use that name for one of their own children...such a beautiful name for such a beautiful woman.

California Comes to Cairo

As I mentioned before, my sister and her family live on the outskirts of San Francisco, California. My sister and her husband Steve were married in a beautiful ceremony at sunset on a schooner in Key West ten years ago. Instead of taking a second honeymoon to Italy, they chose to spend their tenth anniversary here..in rural southwest Georgia, where my sister and I grew up. I'm not saying those years were perfect, but they were something special, and we had so many good times then that we will never forget. From mama sending us to the field to find colorful arrowheads, to daddy cooling us off with a water hose on those hot summer days when he would come home on his lunch break, they both created rainbows that will forever permeate our memories of childhood. I'm so thankful that my sister chose to bring her husband and two children home to celebrate this milestone with us. Because...although I'm sure Italy is beautiful...WOW what architecture...what history...sometimes being around your own architecture and your own history can really be just what you needed.

We began our vacation at Wild Adventures in Valdosta, GA, which brought back memories of the excitement of Six Flags and Disney World from our childhood. Only this time, although Mama and Daddy are a little bit older, and Daddy has a heart bypass surgery under his belt, he still rode a few roller coasters with the grandkids, disregarding all the warnings telling him that this might not be a good idea. Nothing was going to stop him from enjoying this.

On the way home, we stopped at Publix because Mama wanted to get some sandwich fixings for supper. Little did we know that this was to be a 45 minute ordeal. Unbeknownst to us, Sue meant for this sandwich supper to be on a level that would be fit for a king. We had to find just the right kind of bread, just the right kind of cheese, and only the best of the best deli meat. And lets not forget the chips...Lays? Are you kidding me? Ha. These potatoes must have been hand chopped and baked, then delicately placed inside the bag one by one, only after their quality had been scrutinized by a specially qualified potato chip engineer. Sue would have only the best. And I must say, it was absolutely delicious. Mama brought out all of her cooking talents the few days that Livi was here. She made a delicious shrimp bisque that first night, and I swear I could eat that for every meal for the rest of my life and never get tired of it.

The next few days rushed by in a blur. We went to Mary Brogan's museum in Tallahassee where the kids had a blast looking at the dinosaur exhibit and playing with all of the hands-on stuff that they had there...but the best times were spent at home. It was so nice just to relax and let the kids play in the yard, riding the lawn mowers, eating watermelon, and just being kids. Just like we used to do. Well, I don't remember us riding the lawn mower, but then Daddy didn't have THREE of them for us to play on back then! But I do remember that one time when we raked the yard-getting every single bit of pine straw up-praying that would keep us from getting in trouble...that one time when Granny stayed with us when Mama and Daddy went out of town...when we were teenagers...and we...need I say more?