Caress...Memories Triggered

It has been said that the sense of smell is probably the greatest tool for storing and triggering memories. I believe it. I have experienced the power of it many times, and this morning was no exception.

As I was preparing to shower, I flipped up the cap on the bottle of body wash and its fragrance transported me immediately back several years...to my grandmother and the house where I had spent many of my childhood and teen years. She didn't have body wash in her bathroom, but she had that favorite curved pink bar of soap with the same name and distinct delicate fragrance..."Caress"...its aroma filling the air and lingering on the skin that was washed with it.

That bathroom was a big deal and blessing to us. I recall how excited we all were when we finally had running cold and hot water...and we got an inside bathroom, complete with a tub and shower, installed In the house...when I was in junior high school. The gas furnace and a gas cook stove were installed around the same time...the prior source of heat being a large coal stove in the living room...and our food had previously been prepared on the wood stove in the kitchen. Also, for years our source of water was from a fresh spring that ran into a block holding tank under the house and was brought up through a pitcher pump at the kitchen sink. Bathing was done in a large round aluminum wash tub that sat in the pantry and was concealed by homemade curtains over the door. Water had to be heated on the old stove then carried to the tub. You just hoped to be one of the first kids to get in to bathe and not the last! lol

Now I am not that old. We were way behind most families in the area when it came to "modern conveniences" and, by many standards, we were poor or impoverished...but the loving care and discipline, along with the "caress" of my grandmother, more than made up for the material things and modern conveniences that we had lacked for so many years.

I find it amazing that now such a simple thing as the fragrance of soap or body wash can make her seem so near again and it brings tears of sadness, joy, and appreciation for simple things that many take for granted... ~C.J.

 

 

(Post copyright by C.J.  Please do not share, copy, or use without permission.)

 



Someone's "Santa"...

A few days ago, I was on my way into a thrift store and, before I turned the corner to go in through the door, I heard a man's deep voice, speaking very softly and kindly.  When I made the turn, I noticed five or six folks standing just outside the door, including the owner of that voice...a tall, chunky older man who was dressed in a green camouflage shirt and pants, with shoulder-length white hair, white beard, and gold glasses.  Yes, I was somewhat taken aback by his appearance as I took a quick breath in and stopped to watch the interaction.  He was with an older lady who stood just to the side and slightly behind him, smiling.  He was leaning over, and the person he was speaking to was a little boy about a year old who was sitting in a shopping cart whose handle was being held by his momma.  The boy was sitting very still, smiling, unblinking, looking at and listening intently to the older gentleman.  

Then I saw a young woman coming out of the store holding the hand of a little girl who appeared to be about four years old.  The girl was humming, walking and looking down at her own feet.  When she heard the man's voice, even before seeing him, she stopped abruptly, then looking up and seeing the man, her eyes got real big, she tugged on her mother's hand and said quietly but excitedly, "Mommy, Mommy...look!  I think he's a real Santa Claus!  Her mother smiled, and looking at the man, she said, "Yes, honey...I think you're right!"  Everyone in that little group was smiling.  

As I went on into the shop, I thought to myself, "Wouldn't it be great if more people were like that wonderful gentleman?  The world needs that every day, not just around Christmas time!".  Then immediately I realized that we all can be!  Most of the time, when we make the choice, each one of us can be a SANTA, just like that gentleman...because what he gave was not a fancy or expensive gift...he gave just a little of his time, personal attention, gentleness, and kindness...not just to his own family and personal friends, but to total strangers.  

Will you be a SANTA to someone today?  You might be the only one they see.  And you just might leave a positive and lasting impression on that person, just like that camo-clad gentleman did on me.

    (Ornament from zazzle)

(Post by C.J. - please do not copy or share without permission)

We are "West Virginians"!

We are "West Virginians"...from the State of WEST VIRGINIA, not Virginia or western Virginia.  If you don't know us and where we come from, don't judge us or stereotype us. Come for a visit and find out for yourself that, although there are exceptions (just as in any other place) for the most part, we MOUNTAINEERS are proud, hard-working, family-oriented, well-educated, self-sufficient, good, honest, God-fearing people who take care of our own, our neighbors, and strangers who may be just visiting or passing through. The majority of us whose families have lived in this beautiful area for generations come from the diverse cultures and backgrounds of Native Americans and ancient generations of folks from the areas of Ireland, England, Scotland, Germany, Wales, Italy, Poland, etc., and each of those unique heritages remain evident in our speech, music, dance, artistic expressions, dress, food, opinions, and lifestyles. Individuals from many other ethnic groups and nationalities now call WV their home, primarily because they have found that we are not racist or prejudiced and they are also amazed by and appreciative of the acceptance, friendliness, helpfulness, pride, and protectiveness of our people. There is something very unique and special about our State and its People and no matter where I may roam, West Virginia will always be my home. May God bless the beautiful hills, valleys, mountains, streams, and rivers of the Mountain State, bless its people, and the country to which we belong.  ~ C.J., A native of "Almost Heaven, Wild and Wonderful WEST VIRGINIA"

~ ~ ~

Posted in response to the ongoing flawed perceptions and 

misconceptions about the State of WV and its People, 

especially perpetuated by the media...

  

Post and photo by C. J.- please do not copy. 

About Me?

"Where words fail, music speaks." (Hans Christian Anderson) About me? It's not really all about ME:) I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up... I'm always looking for something to read or study... I love sunrises and sunsets...porch swings and rocking chairs...long walks and weekend trips... I enjoy music and poetry...singing and playing sax... I could spend hours laughing and talking with friends over coffee or tea... I'm not very outspoken, but when I'm passionate about something or someone, you'll know it... I'm very intuitive, discerning, sensitive and sentimental... I love picking up the phone and hearing my sons' voices, hearing them laugh or saying they are having a good day... I don't like insincerity, injustice, cruelty, wastefulness, unproductive meetings, rainy days, excuses or broken promises... I'm a proud mom of two wonderful sons who I don't get to see often enough. I don't know how the years have passed so quickly! I wish I could sit down right now with my old friends from high school and college, just relax, laugh, share some coffee or tea, catch up and reconnect...

( © Post and photo by C.J. - please do not copy)

Only HE...

( © Post and Video clip by C.J. - please do not copy)

The Upper Room

(Upper Room of Wilcox Chapel, A-B College)

It's just a small room in the top of the chapel

but there is something so special about it

No words can describe what happens 

when I enter and sit facing its beautiful window

The light from outside comes streaming through

casting multicolored hues across everything in the room

It is peacefully quiet

 a refuge from the noise and activity of the day

As I sit and breathe deeply in and out

I feel my body slowly relax

and a sense of calm comes over me

I barely notice the voices and music outside the room

I sense that even though I'm the only person here

still, I am not alone

There is a sweet presence that surrounds me

and it knows my every thought and my heart

Then, as if being whispered  to me

the Word of God comes pouring into my mind

"Be still and know that I am God"

"Behold I am with you always"

It is then that I realize

that today is "Pentecost" Sunday

the day that Christians remember the last great miracle

the blessed gift of the ever-present indwelling Holy Spirit 

That powerful Holy Spirit sent by God

that came rushing into that upper room

and first fell upon the people on that day

fills my heart and stirs my soul at this moment

A companion like no other, ever-present

He fills me with a joy that cannot be explained

He takes away doubts and calms my fears

He gives reassurance and peace beyond human understanding

After a time of reflection, praying and rejoicing

I take a deep cleansing breath 

and I thank God for reminding me

of the significance of this beautiful "upper room"

( © Post and photo by C.J. Taylor - please do not copy)

The Last Salute

The flag of our country was taken from its sealed cardboard box, unfolded, and two people from the funeral home carefully refolded it in a very specific way, with each fold having a special meaning.  It ended up being  a thick triangle of material, white stars on a field of blue facing outward, and it was carefully placed in the corner of the open casket just above his left shoulder.  As family and friends came in to pay their respects and to say goodbye, they looked on the display tables and easels at the old photos and other memorabilia and they spoke of the times they had spent with him.  But as they stood at the casket, gently touching his body, then the flag at his shoulder, they were overcome with unexplainable emotion. 


The next day, the funeral service began when everyone was seated and several veterans came filing in, one by one, going up to the casket and slowly and deliberately saluting him and the flag that remained at his shoulder.  When the tribute and service was over and everyone had passed by the casket to pay their final respects, they went to their cars to wait for the casket to be loaded into the hearse.  When the last person had left the chapel, the large spray of beautiful flowers that had adorned the top of the casket was removed by funeral home staff, the flag was again unfolded, and this time it was carefully draped so that it covered the entire casket that had been slowly and ceremonially closed.  When the flag-draped casket appeared as the pallbearers carried it from the funeral home to the hearse, there was total silence, and the sight once again prompted many tears.


The procession slowly made its way to the little country cemetery a few miles outside of town and when it arrived at its destination, at the entrance gate there stood a man in uniform, saluting the hearse as it approached.  After the vehicle came to a stop, he remained at attention and he saluted again as the casket was removed from the vehicle and the pallbearers carried it to the grave site, led by the minister and the funeral director.  A bugler in uniform, standing in the distance, also stood at attention and saluted until the casket was in place, as did another man in uniform who had been waiting near the tent that covered the open grave.


The pallbearers carefully placed the flag-draped casket on top of the supports that would hold it over the grave, the family members were seated in chairs lined up beside the casket, and remaining family and friends gathered closely around as the minister stood at the end of the casket and prepared to speak.  When the committal service and prayer had ended, the bugler played the mournful "Taps", and the soldiers began the ritual of removing the flag and folding it, saluting at the appropriate times.  During this procedure, no one had to be asked to keep quiet; it was so silent, the only sounds were the birds singing and the swish of the material as it was being crisply and deliberately folded into its final triangular shape once more.  The task was complete and one soldier saluted and then walked away.  The one left holding the flag turned sharply around to face the family sitting on the chairs beneath the tent, then he knelt down directly in front of a daughter.  As he spoke to her, expressing gratitude and appreciation for her father's service to his country, presenting the flag to her,  it was as if everyone there were holding their breath, and then there was another sudden release of tears and emotion as the woman thanked him, clutching the flag to her breast as the soldier stood up straight and gave his salute...for the last time....

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mere words are not enough to express my gratitude to all the men and women who have sacrificed and faithfully served (and continue to serve) this country to preserve the freedoms that I often take for granted. I know many of them have experiences they have shared with no one except their God - horrible visions of friends killed; the pain and guilt from having to take another human's life; personal physical and emotional pain they themselves have endured; nightmares that have no end; sometimes the heartache of being deserted by their own family and friends...many things they have carried to their own grave in silence. 


I think that is why I become so emotional every time I see that flag-draped casket, then watch as that precious symbol is folded and presented in a most solemn and dignified manner to a surviving family member...I feel as if my heart will burst because of everything that this custom and ceremonial ritual represents. 


God bless every U.S. veteran and every person currently serving...God bless their families...and God bless the USA!

( © Post and photos by C.J. - please do not copy)

Irene

Most of the people who knew her saw her as a quiet, good person who lived a simple life.  She was that, but so much more.  Having known her, spent time with her, and interacted with her on many occasions and under a variety of circumstances, I really came to know her very well.


She grew up in a large family in rural West Virginia.  Her family didn't have a lot of money, and she helped her parents in many ways to care for and provide for her siblings, the house, and the farm.  She was only able to finish the eighth grade in school, and this was something she always resented her parents for.  If she hadn't had to help them, she thought she would have liked to finish school and go on to become a teacher.  She knew she was smart enough.


A local man who towered over her and who was a few years older than she swept her off her feet and they were married.  It was during a difficult time when our country was at war and he was called to serve in the Navy.  She was soon left alone to care for a baby girl.  She quickly felt "trapped" again by her husband's siblings, none of whom were married, but who felt they knew what was best for her and often tried to make decisions for her.


When her husband was discharged from the service, it was another period of adjustment as she stepped back from being the decision maker and he and his brother and sisters seemed to have her and her family's lives planned out, without her having much to say about it.  Her husband got a job that was over an hour's commute each way, and she was left to care for their farm and, eventually, their four children.  Over the course of several years, she had also suffered two miscarriages that no one ever talked much about, making her surviving children's ages widespread.


Each day she was up long before dawn to begin her chores on the farm, to get her husband off to work, and her children up and ready for school.  She kept them all fed and in clean clothes that she would often mend on her treadle sewing machine or by hand, and nursed them back to health when they were sick.  She took care of the animals, the garden, and canned and prepared their food to freeze for the winter.  She had supper prepared every evening when her husband got home from work, and she kept the children quiet and entertained while he relaxed and watched a ballgame or news on television and then he went early to bed.


When her husband passed away, she felt as if her own life would end.  She was so used to him making all the financial decisions, her health seemed to be failing, and she still had a lively 16 year-old daughter at home.  But with the help of family and friends, she survived and became more independent and stronger than she had felt in years.  She was torn and tormented about having her older daughter now take in and care for her "baby", but she knew it was the best decision...she didn't want her to feel  "trapped" or deprived of opportunities in any way like she had felt throughout her life.  She got acquainted with a new physician who got her on the road to better physical health.  She was now well past 50 years old and she learned to drive for the first time so she could become more independent and self-sufficient.  


She loved her children and grandchildren, was proud of them but was never outwardly boastful or prideful.  My sons had the wonderful privilege of spending a great deal of time with her, especially during their early years.  She enjoyed having everyone come to visit and just talk while sitting around the kitchen table and eating the simple meals and desserts she had prepared.  We would often joke or laugh about what kind of food to expect, but we truly loved it and knew it would be consistently delicious, comforting, and satisfying.  Her chocolate chip cookies, raisin-filled cookies, and apple cakes are especially memorable.  I will never forget the very first time I walked into her house at about 10:30 p.m.and she greeted me warmly with a smile and a hug and a large can of her chocolate chip cookies and a glass of cold milk.  I could tell immediately, though, that she was "sizing me up" to see if I was good enough for her baby boy.


Her love of God was quiet, steadfast, and sure, and she wanted to convey that to each one of her children.  She taught them right from wrong and stressed the values of good morals, character, reputation, and Christian principles.  She took them to church regularly and was a Sunday School teacher herself for awhile.  She read extensively and could have debated and answered most any question on biblical history, ancient archeology, and the teachings of Jesus.  I don't recall her ever missing a Bible-related question while watching and competing with the contestants on Jeopardy!


She never had the opportunity to travel far from home and, although she had many chances and invitations to travel later in her life, she refused to take advantage of them, preferring to remain close to home and the people and things that were familiar to her.  Her curiosity of faraway places and people seemed to be satisfied through reading magazines, books, and watching special television programs.


Her body language and other forms of communication often said so much more than the few words she spoke.  I quickly learned what each specific "look", tilted head, pursed lips, tensed jaw, crossed arms, muttered sounds, non-whistled whistle, and quiet rustle of a Pop-Tart or Little Debbie wrapper meant.  It seemed much easier for her to express her love and feelings in a personal card or letter than face-to-face.  She remembered birthdays and anniversaries with cards and sometimes small gifts.


It was difficult to watch this unique lady slowly fade away as poor physical health, mental decline and dementia finally began to rapidly take its toll and she could no longer care for herself or relate to those who loved her.  Some of the words that came out of her mouth were a little beyond the little four-letter "sh_ _" we were accustomed to hearing her mutter when she was really frustrated or exasperated.  We knew she couldn't help it when she didn't recognize us, but it hurt deeply.  She had run the race and fought a good fight, and we knew life with her as we knew it would soon come to an end, yet we just were not prepared at all when it happened.


Yes, Irene was a quiet, good person who lived a simple life.  But she was also intelligent, curious, quick-witted, hard-working, conservative, frugal, God-fearing, stubborn, honest, resilient, resourceful, loving, loyal, and devoted.  I learned a lot from her during the 30 years that I had the privilege of knowing her as my mother-in-law and my friend and I just wanted to take these few moments, during the month of the anniversary of her birth to say, "I love you...I miss you...and you made a difference in my life, Mom".

( © Post and photo by C.J. - please do not copy)

Why WVU? MOUNTAINEER Pride