There was Music in Our House

Music has always been a very important part of my life. My mother played the piano. Her home in the small town of Oakland, Tennessee, was full of Irene's piano music. Her father, my Daddy Jim impressed on her that her music was a gift and she must use is whenever and whereever possible. Irene, known as "Sistah" did just that.

When I was a little girl, we did not have a piano in our home. When we went to Big Mama and Daddy Jim's house, Mama played for us. At church Mama played....and I loved to hear and see her. She was small, and the piano so large. We would go to the church, which was just across the stree,  and she would practice. Most times, I was with her, and Daddy would come out of his office and just stand in the doorway and smile.

Now, my Daddy was no slouch in the music department. He directed our congregation and choir with natural talent. His voice was strong and though it was  not a solo voice. Daddy, Malcolm, was the music leader in
revivals when I was a girl. He would take me with him, to small towns and country churches, in Tennessee, Northern Mississippi, and East Arkansas. He also was a dynamic preacher....why he could make you smell "hells-fire and brimstone" and this little girl wide eyed and wondering.

The choir at Malcolm Avenue sang for Association Meetings often. I only remember a few songs, but I was there on the front row singing every word with them. After all, I was at every practice. I remember
a chorus they sang: "Good Morning up there where Christ is the Light, Good  Morning up there where cometh no night". I remember one night, when the choir was practicing, they all stopped and I kept singing. The choir applauded....and I got my first taste of performing! It was a heady thing!

Daddy would take me with him to country revivals. He always had a "Sunshine Choir" made up of children. We came early, learned new choruses and sang for services. We sang: "I Will Make You Fishers of Men"; " The Birds Up in the Treetop"; "Every Day With Jesus"; "One Door and Only One" and many more. Daddy would stand me up on a chair or in one case on the piano, and I would sing my heart out.

I had not started to school yet, so it was not a problem, me going with him. I don't know how many little girls had a Daddy, in the 30s, who would take them places with out Mama. Mine Did!! {Just a note, he also took me fishing and hunting before I was 9. When I was 9 he left for WWII} What a fortunate little "Tomboy" to have a Mama and a Daddy who understood. We lived in the south where girls were really supposed to be GIRLY! In case you get the wrong idea, I really like pretty fussy clothes and hair ribbons, but they did not stay that way long on Charlotte.

When I was six, I started taking piano lessons, and practiced across the street in the church building. I got caught over there late one afternoon in a horrible storm. My Daddy came striding in and took me home in
his arms and very soon after that a piano was part of our own furnishings.

I still took naps in the afternoon. I still slept in a baby bed too. We  had two bedrooms, but some of the family always lived with us and I slept in the room with Mama and Daddy. I distinctly remember waking
up and hearing piano music.....not the radio.....real piano music. There it was!!!!!!!! A spinet, when they were new, in our living room. Daddy built a stool so I would quit kicking the sound board.

I would like to share a song I learned to love, in my teen years. Daddy would say: "Rene, play "Evening Prayer" for me." He would say to me..."You need  to learn that song". I can close my eyes and see that fine Malcolm Younger standing behind his "Rene" singing:

If I have wounded any soul today'

If I have caused one foot to go astray

If I have walked in my own willful way

Dear Lord, Forgive

If I uttered idle words or vain

If I have turned aside from want or pain

Lest I myself shall suffer thro' the strain

Dear Lord, Forgive

If I have been perverse or hard or cold

If I have longed for shelter in Thy Fold

When thou hast given me some fort to hold

Dear Lord, Forgive

Forgive the sins I have confessed to Thee

Forgive the secret sins I do not see;

Oh guide me, love me, and my keeper be

Dear Lord, Amen

{The melody is haunting....beautiful written by C. M Battersby and Charloes H Gabriel----copyright 1913. }

I really think that this song would be a wonderful prayer for any child of God at the close of any day. I would love to hear that Man of God, my Daddy Malcolm and his Dearest On,e Irene, filling our home with music
again, like I did in a time long gone....but that music is still still alive in my heart. The love that filled the Parsonage (poor as we were) where we made our home, be it in Memphis, or Bolivar, Tennessee; or Eldon, Missouri, made it the best place too be!

Thank you, Heavenly Father, for our little family

for the love that was obvious, the fun things

we did, for a Mother and Father who loved you

More than life..... ~Amen

~Charlotte

{Edited to add this video of Jim Reeves singing "Evening Prayer" on the Grand Ole Opry.}



On my Papa's 80th Birthday...

I got a letter a few weeks ago in the mail from Oma asking me to write down some memories of my Papa. I’m going to admit that I’ve been putting it off. I had a million excuses—school and family make up most of them. But the biggest reason I haven’t written anything is that I don’t know what to write. It’s not a lack of time spent with him or a lack of wanting to participate. It’s that I have a horrible memory and don’t know what to say about such a great man that would be special enough to share.

Papa, my brother, Jamie, and me

I have memories of rubbing his feet—for a quarter—when he visited when I was young. I’ve always been in awe of his hair—it never moves and always looks fabulous. He tells great jokes and amazing stories. He sings beautiful songs. I have watched him preach—what a joy!!

But those aren’t special memories. That’s just part of who he is. Special memories—like the day he told me I could give my son the Buster name. Or give that same son the same middle name of that wonderful man. He held my hand and gave me his handkerchief as I cried at the funeral of a man I loved. Then, a few years later, he preformed the wedding ceremony in my mother’s living room to bind me in eyes of God to the man who loves me and my kids. He sat outside and talked to me and ate hot dogs off the grill as my husband cooked dinner for us all.

Some of those memories are fuzzy, more of a feeling or something that someone reminded me of. There is one though that is crystal clear. Something that happened this summer. I was able to watch my Papa do something wonderful, a little sad, and a whole lot amazing. I watched him perform a funeral service at one of his old churches for a dear friend. Watching him do that, not knowing the family so being a total outsider, was really meaningful to me. But after the service…I watched so many people shake my grandfather’s hand, throw their arms around his neck, watch their faces light up just being near him. My Papa, their Brother Bob, made a difference in these people’s lives. They think he’s special and amazing. I’ve always thought that about him, but watching all of those people who love him made my heart fill with joy. He’s not just that amazing to me, his granddaughter, but he is that amazing to everyone who knows him.

I am so lucky to be a 30 year old woman and celebrate my grandfather’s 80th birthday. I wish I could be there with him, but it just can’t happen, I just hope he knows how much I love him and that I’m thinking of him on his birthday, just like I do every other day.

I love you Papa!!

~Annie          

Lessons in Lady-hood

In 1977, I was the blushing bride of an Air Force Second Lieutenant. I had grown up in a parsonage and had gone to teas and coffees and served punch throughout my teenage years. I was familiar with the manners and pleasantries one might need to attend such things. I was not, however, confident that I could hostess such an affair.

I wrote my Neenie and asked her for some help and guidance. Neenie was a true Steel Magnolia. A lady. The real deal. The type of Southern Lady whose purse and shoes always matched, who always had a hankie in her Bible, who had kind and gentle manners and carried herself with an elegance and grace that I have admired my whole life. She was my go-to girl for such things.

Questions on raising a boy went immediately to my Mother, who is also a lady, but also a tomboy. She knows how to do the genteel things and I only hope to have a home as hospitable as hers when I grow up…but when I was growing up, kids would come to the door and ask, “Can your mom come out and play.” She had more requests to play than I did.

Below is a copy of a note Neenie sent me about Afternoon Tea, in reply to the letter I wrote her asking for help.

Dear Mollianne,
I received your letter and I am sure that you will be able to hostess a lovely tea. Use your prettiest dishes and if you can, put fresh flowers on your table. Matching paper products and a candle or two will add an elegant touch. If you keep it simple, it won’t matter that you don’t have silver serving dishes. Those things will come in time. No one should expect that as a new bride, you will already have those things. Here are some suggestions for a simple but elegant afternoon tea that would be suitable to honor someone such as a bride or an expectant mother.

I know that you can do this and do it well. I am proud of you and will be anxious to hear how things turn out.

As Ever,
Neenie

I don’t know if any of you might have to help hostess an afternoon tea. But, if you do…I’d recommend Neenie’s suggestions. I had a heck of a time making those strawberry cookies and they didn’t look like strawberries. I did not inherit her artistic abilities, but I tried and they tasted pretty good.

Her encouragement meant the world to me, and I thought that this might be a good place to share her thoughts with you.

~Mollianne

From the Kitchen of Irene Younger

For an afternoon Tea:
Assorted small finger sandwiches with ham, pimento cheese and egg salad for stuffing
Strawberry cookies
Coconut Macaroons
Tea of spicy and orange flavors

Strawberry Cookies
2 packages (3 oz each) Strawberry Jello
1 pound firmly ground coconut
¼ pound ground blanched almond, pecans or walnuts
2 Tablespoons sugar
1 can Sweetened Condensed Milk

Reserve half of 1 package of the Jello. Mix remaining Jello with remaining ingredients. Shape a small amount of mixture into the shape of a strawberry. Roll each in a mixture of reserved Jello and 4 Tablespoons of red sugar. (To color sugar, add a bit of red food coloring and rub between fingertips OR buy pre-colored sugar (in baking section of food stores). Make Green icing leaves or buy marzipan berry hulls.

Coconut Macaroons
1 1/3 cups flakes coconut
½ cup Sweetened Condensed Milk
pinch salt
1 teaspoon vanilla
½ teaspoon almond extract

Stir all ingredients together well. Drop from teaspoon 1 inch apart on well-greased cookie sheet. Press down end of coconut flakes with back of a spoon.
Bake at 350 degrees until golden brown about 10 to 12 minutes. Remove from pan at once to wire racks to cool. Use a wide spatula (they break easily until they cool)
Makes 18

Going Home

We spent last week at home in Missouri with Mother and Daddy. We were going to drive up on Christmas Day, but the weather prevented that. So we arrived, safe and sound, the day after and begin a wonderful week.

My Sweet Daddy has just turned 80 and while we missed his big birthday/retirement blast, we had very sweet visit with them after all the hoopla was over {yep! At 80 he has retired from the ministry, but he's still preaching a lot on Sundays...go figure!} We got to see the slide show from the party, and read through all the cards and letters he got.

I looked through the house and saw some decorations from Christmas Past and many new ones. My mother decorates for Christmas like nobody's business, and there is always a special glow about her house for the holidays. I convinced her to let me help her de-deck the halls, which was a precious deposit in my memory bank...one I'll cherish.

We watched football games and basketball games. We ate at the table upsatairs and sat for hours just talking about how we'd run the world if we were in charge. We ate downstairs in front of the TV and cheered our boys to victory and defeat. We rested and we napped. Rocket Man did a little repair work with Daddy and Mother and I went shopping. We ate out with Uncle Chuck and Doris.

In short, it was a lovely visit and so good to be back home. I never lived in Eldon, Missouri, but my grandparents lived there when I was small and it has always held a special place in my heart. We did the mandatory drive past the old house on High Street and I remarked, as always, that it is a shame that the house has been so altered. We went to the Post Office and I remembered going there with my grandfather and buying stamps. We went to the drug store, as we always do. We even got to meet a dentist, because I had a crown fall off. I love that my Mother can just call the dentist in that small town and get me worked in within a few hours and what could have been a disaster was a rather pleasant experience!

I love going home. I love that there are several towns and locations that feel like home to me. But the best going home is when we get back to Huntsville, Alabama. That is where home is most real to me. The home that Rocket Man and I have built for ourselves. As I've said before, it isn't anything that Better Homes and Gardens is going to be doing a double page spread on anytime soon. In fact, I'll be lucky if the city doesn't cite me this month because my leaves are still in the yard. But in this house...in these rooms...in this place there is a wonderful feeling of being in the most sacred of homes. It is not the house I love...not the home...but the life I live there with the man I adore.

Going home is soothing to my soul. It meets a need in me whether it is to the Bootheel of Missouri or to Central Missouri where I strain to see the familiar roads and landmarks of my early childhood. Even better than going home is coming home. To our life and our resident children and our work. I feel very blessed that we love living in Rocket City, USA and that we love the life we live here.

Going home...then coming home. It was a lovely visit.

~Mollianne

My Sweet Daddy is having his 80th Birthday!

Dear Sweet Daddy,

I am sending this with much love and hoping that your party will be a wonderful celebration of your birth. I am sorry that I won’t be there to celebrate with you on the day, but am thankful that we will be there just a few days afterwards to celebrate with you. Enjoy your party!

I have spent a great deal of time pondering what to say to you in this letter. A letter to be put in a book for everyone to read. Many, many things come to mind, but have already been written up in blog posts or in the book I did for you in 2009. Or they are simply too personal to put in a letter for all to see.

The thing that continues to come to mind is simply I love you. I hope that you know how much I love you. I don’t remember a time when I didn’t simply love My Sweet Daddy. I’m not sure if I love you more than any daughter ever loved her Daddy, although I have said for years that I am the self-proclaimed Queen of Daddy’s Girls. I only know that I have loved you as long as I can remember and as best I know how.

You have been such a place of earthly comfort and strength to me. As a small child, anything I imagined to be dangerous to me was held at bay when you were close by. I had a fast-held justified true belief that if My Sweet Daddy were near, nothing could harm me. As I grew older and became a little more aware of what danger really was, I still had a sense of well-being when you were close by. My belief grew from knowing that nothing would harm me if you were near to knowing that within your power, you would help keep me from harm if I acted prudently. Even older, when I brought my broken heart to you, you offered comfort and safety and I believe your heart broke along with mine. I took comfort from your care and concern and with courage and perhaps a little craziness dared to love again.

I love you for so many, many reasons. But the one I hold highest above all is the one I believe you would care for the most. And that is this: You lived your life in such a way that you pointed me to One dearer than even my own Sweet Daddy. You led me to a Heavenly Father, with whom I was very comfortable, thanks to the strong concept of Father that I learned from you. Thanks to your life, teaching and witness, I participate in Life Eternal that began all those years ago when you led me to know not only God the Father, but to accept God the Son.

I end with this. Simply one phrase, one solitary phrase that doesn’t say nearly what I want it to say, but also says it all. I love you, Daddy.

Your Baby Girl,

Mollianne

Irene and Malcolm got Married on Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving fell on November 29 in 1928. The West Tennessee sky was clear very early that morning when a man, with a funny look on his face got into the old '28 car even before daylight and headed to Memphis, which was 30 miles away. That was quite a long trip on a road that was little more than a path. Murray (also known as Mr. Jimmie) was certain there were not enough pies for the dinner that day. He intended to remedy that situation!

Back at the house, Irene (also known as Sister and pronounced, 'Sistah'), a young beautiful young woman who stood at just 4 foot 11 inches was beyond excited. This was THE DAY!!! The dress was perfect, the church decorated and the trains were running on time!! Though she was nervous, Irene was so happy that her eyes were shinning brighter than they ever had before. She was going to marry Malcolm that day.

In Memphis, Lizzie and Charlie Younger, the parents of the groom, were headed to the train station. The ride to Oakland was not really a joyous occasion for them, at least not for Lizzie. Her Buddy, youngest child of six, was getting married to a little slip of a girl. A girl from a country town. Of course, their only daughter, Arlowynne, loved her dearly and was fairly bouncing and rushing everybody around. Must not miss the train for this is "Buddy's" Big Day, and if she could have chosen, she Arlowynne would have chosen Irene! Arlowynne and Malcolm {Buddy} were just 18 months apart, and she had always watched out for her little brother.

Folks in that small southern town were getting ready for the Austin Girl's wedding.

Her brothers had done their best to scare Mac off, and it did not work. They tried

all sorts of trickery and this boy from the city would not be put off! Must love Sistah!

The youngest, 7 year old Genie, had been very ill and the pretty white suit that

Bertha, the Austin Matriarch, had made faily hung on his young skinny frame. He simply

refused to wear suspenders.

Friends of Malcolm, they were all Preacher Boys, would be here on the Jackson train. It was on time, too! This certainly must be the Right Thing to do.

The kitchen was bustling with the girls who had come to help. They were humming and

buzzing around. They all loved Miss Irene. She was so kind and pretty. Those

girls left their families scattered in their little houses in Mr Jimmie's cotton fields which

were all around Oakland. Mr Jimmie pulled into the yard with a car full of pies. All the pies he could find at two bakeries and they were all Pumpkin Pie! The girls wondered what Miss Bertha was going to say when she saw all those pies!!

When the Memphis Train pulled in, and the Youngers walked on the platform and Lizzie

stopped abruptly! Her beautiful eyes, which were always bright and her best feature, were clouded. She covered her mouth with her hand and behind it announced to Charlie, Arlowynne, Malcolm and another son, Dude that she had forgotten her new store bought teeth. She meant to put them in her pocketbook....but in all the bustle she forgot! She would

not.....absolutey NOT go without her teeth. There were no more trains that would

get there and back. There was, however, another auto in the Austins lot. Maybe Larry Austin or somebody could take one of them back to get the teeth. They worked it out and as fast as that old auto could go....it was off to Memphis on a Teeth Run!

That little church was packed. The piano was played. The special music, sung beautifully.

The attendants filed in. Then Gene came in.

As he walked not too far in front of his beloved Sistah and his Daddy, the little white pants begin to slip down. Irene handed Daddy the flowers that had come from the side yard and stopped. She bent and pulled up the pants, kissed Genie Boy, and proceded

down the isle.

On one side sat Bertha, without a smile. She remained stoic. No smile would come to her. It was her way. On the other side of the aisle sat Lizzie with a big smile. Teeth proudly gleaming.

At the front of the little church, Malcolm was handsome and proud as he looked up the church aisle. There, walking calmly, was the most beautiful girl in the world....Irene! She was his "Girl of My Dreams" that he would sing to for 49 years. This was the woman who would support him in his Ministry, because she felt the Lord calling her to do so. This would be the mother of his only child. She was simply The BEST, and she was his!

November 29 comes and goes. I remain here while my Mama and Daddy have gone to their Eternal Home.

Thank God for the Austins and the Youngers. I am a mixture of both.

~Charlotte

If you would, please...

I have a request.

You see, I am going to do something next week that I sort of dread. But I'm dreading it with the hopes that I will come away with answers, a diagnosis and a treatment plan.

After 5 years of:

*seeing doctors {8 by my count} who have poked and prodded me and asked me a myriad of questions, and been stumped by the answers

*being tested for all sorts of awful things, none of which I seem to have {thanking God for that one}

*taking all sorts of different medications {some appear to be snake oil, if you ask me}

*being frustrated out of my mind

*living with seizure type activities {that they say are not seizures} occasional loss of cognitive abilities, and periods of being unable to communicate verbally

* being diagnosed {or not diagnosed} as 'interesting', 'off' and 'that ain't right'

*wearing my big girl panties far more than I'd like

*causing many people who love and care for me to worry, and doing some worrying myself

*shedding countless tears and facing down terrible fears

and last but not least

*being loved and tenderly cared for by the Amazing Rocket Man...

I have an appointment at the Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville Florida next week. I am to arrive at 7 am on Monday and will be evaluated by Dr. Elizabeth Shuster in the Neurology Clinic.

So, here's my request. Would you say a prayer for me, for Rocket Man, for Dr. Shuster and the nurses and technicians that we will be dealing with next week? For safe travel to and from Jacksonville and for some answers.

We would appreciate it a great deal.

I will try to make posts on our adventures as we go.

~Mollianne