Pretty morning. Ate my breakfast pondering in the swing. The sky was descriptively summer. All my birdies were on the feeders or sipping from the bird baths. Got an invite to baby brother’s pool so off I went. Spent a pleasant day with baby brother and his family and grandchildren. His baby grandson has some Jack Nicholson vibes. Always performing and wanting everyone to watch. Got a little “pop pop” for not minding his mother. His daddy said he got lots of “pop pops” for “just breathing!” We had a good laugh at that comment.

The older grandson wanted to know if I had killed Grandpaw raccoon with a 410. I told him we caught Grandpaw in a cage but realized it was Grandpaw’s son instead of big Grandpaw. “I don’t understand why you don’t just shoot it. And your king snake, he still there?” I tried to explain to him that we couldn’t shoot critters in the city limits. Bless his little heart, he said he would kill it for me. When I left baby brother was walking him down in a field to do some shooting. Sweet boy loves his granddaddy fiercely.

I wonder how many families in America were gathered around back yard pools today, enjoying each other’s company, laughing in happy conversations and watching the children frolic. We’re fortunate to live freely and safely. I don’t think I’m brave enough to live in a war torn country. I love the intimacy and the slow pace of small town life. Didn’t realize how much I missed these days with my family till I moved back home after Chief’s death. He always said, “Go home to your family when I’m gone. They’ll look after you.” I did and they have.

Ever have disappointments in life and wonder why things turn out different than you planned. Ever not get the answer to your prayers and realize it was a good thing it didn’t work out the way you wanted. I haven’t had many disappointments in my life. Been thinking this morning and late afternoon about the times I have been disappointed.

When I was in college I took a creative writing class the last semester of my senior year. My English professor would bring a small brown paper bag to class full of mundane every day objects. We had to reach in the bag and write a story about the object we took from the bag. I was the last to reach in the bag one morning and drew out a safety pin.

I wrote a story, Ned the Needle and his friend Safety Pin. I remember some of the story. Ned and Safety lived in a dusty old farmhouse closet in the bottom of a purple straw sewing basket. The basket had a broken handle where an old black boot, tossed in the closet, whacked the handle. They were always wishing to get out of the basket. Wanted to be useful and needed. Ned was poked in a dingy stuffed strawberry. Hated the smell. Had some needle friends sticking out around him. He was taken out to darn some socks. Safety was in the bottom of the basket, buttons and thread spools haphazardly piled near him, caught up in a yellow measuring tape. Can’t remember what happened to Safety. Anyway, the professor loved the story and read it to the class. She read my writings out loud to the class many times. Always embarrassed me when she did this.

Close to graduation she approached me and told me I needed to apply to Radcliffe’s summer publishing program. She had already gotten an application for me. Told me she thought I was qualified and maybe they needed a token Southerner that summer. Talked to daddy and he said, “Well, if that’s what you want apply.” Kinda got excited. Most of these students from this program immediately got jobs with major publishing companies. I filled the application out, mailed it off and waited to hear from them. I was crushed when the letter arrived, “We regret to inform you…” Didn’t make the list but I would have been lost up there, anyway. Went back to work at The Roanoke Leader after graduation and then a year later to The Russell Record and Russell Corporation’s internal publications where I met and married the editor. That disappointment brought me 41 years of happiness with Chief.

“We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope,”— Martin Luther King, Jr.