Category: People

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Thank you, Mrs. Swofford

We often do not realize the long-lasting impact we have on others….

Each of us affect those around us – either positively or negatively – every day, many times without even realizing it.

When I was 9 years old, I was a 4th grader at Berryville (Arkansas) elementary school. My teacher that year was Mrs. Mary Ellen Swofford. The year before, when I was a 3rd grader, I had feared Mrs. Swofford, hoping and praying many times that I wouldn’t have her for a teacher. A trim, petite lady, she always wore neatly fitted dresses and matching heels that clicked briskly when she walked down the hall. You always knew when it was Mrs. Swofford coming – even before you saw her – by those clicking heels. She was a no-nonsense teacher, and had high expectations for students’ behavior, attitude, and efforts.

Entering 4th grade, my fears were realized when I saw that in fact I did have Mrs. Swofford as my teacher. Those fears quickly faded away as I got to know her however, and she remains to this day one of my absolute favorite teachers.

In late September, this lovely “changing of seasons” time of year we are in right now, Mrs. Swofford started our day by printing the word autumn on the chalkboard. She wrote slowly and carefully, building our anticipation as we students saw the care and simple artistry she put into every letter. She chose to use the old fashioned style on the letter “a”, a style still utilized in type print today but rarely seen anymore in written form. We had no idea why she was writing the word, but she definitely had our attention. The room was quiet as we waited in anticipation. When she finished, she turned to us and said, “Isn’t this a pretty word? I’ve always thought it was such a pretty word to see in print – and I think that fits so well because autumn is such a pretty time of year. Some people call it “fall”, but I’ve always preferred to use autumn because of the way the word looks when you write it and sounds when you say it. It’s just so much better, don’t you think?”

autumn

That was it. That’s all she said. We moved on – getting out our paper and pencils and beginning our school work for the day. Mrs Swofford left that carefully written word on the board for the remainder of the week, and I would look up at it throughout the day and my 9-year-old mind would think, “Wow – that really is a pretty word!”

It was a simple act – but it taught me several valuable lessons.

Our choices of words matter. Language (both spoken and written) is an art form.

Printing and handwriting can be artistically beautiful.

Celebrating beauty every day brings joy – whether it’s the changing of the seasons, the smile of a friend, or simply a beautiful word written on the chalkboard.

This year marks my 46th autumn since that day in Mrs. Swofford’s classroom – and every single year I still remember that simple word written on the chalkboard and the lesson she taught us.

Thank you, Mrs. Swofford.

Author’s Note: I knew Mrs. Swofford had passed away last year, so at the last minute I decided to look up as I was publishing this post. Ironically, she died one year ago today – September 28, 2020.

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Happy Birthday, Mel Tillis

“Good morning, this is Judy Tillis from Branson. Would you happen to know where I could get in touch with Lisa Carlon?”

Mother replied, “Why yes I do – she’s my daughter, and she’s actually here right now.”

At the time of that phone call, I was a student at College of the Ozarks in Point Lookout, Missouri – just outside of Branson. I took the phone from Mother and listened as Judy asked me if I would be willing to move out of my college dorm and live with she and her husband to help them take care of their precious little girl, Hannah. Four days later, I moved into their home. Hannah was four at the time – a sweet, beautiful, intelligent child who was and still is absolutely a delight. It was one of the best jobs I have ever had.

Today, I am thinking of so many wonderful memories from those years – because today is the 88th anniversary of Hannah’s daddy, Mel Tillis’, birth. I smiled this morning as I sat remembering…and I decided to share some of the stories with all of you in hopes that they would make you smile as well. However, before we begin, I have to put in a little disclaimer. Mel had a gift for making people smile. He was an incredible entertainer – singer, songwriter, musician, and storyteller. He was a true, gifted artist – telling his stories with wonderful voice inflections, great facial expressions, and hilarious body language – and always managing his stutter to get others to laugh. An avid reader and a writer, he used the English language brilliantly – twisting pronunciations to add comic effect. When I write these stories, I am blessed that I can HEAR his words and SEE his facial expressions as I type….but those things are unfortunately so difficult to express in written words. For those of you who knew and loved Mel Tillis – I hope you can “hear” him in your mind as well while you read ahead…. For those of you who didn’t know Mel, he was known as the “Stutterin’ Boy” because he couldn’t speak without a stutter. His was not a stutter of repeated letters, but of pauses. At times, I know it was so frustrating for him – but he managed it beautifully and worked it into a trademark his audiences came to love. When I’ve included “……..” in the stories below, please know I’m indicating a Mel Tillis pause. I hope you can hear him.

……………………………………

During the 1990’s, someone in town decided to sell maps to the Branson music stars’ homes. As a result, the house we lived in at the end of a quiet neighborhood street became a bit busier with people driving down to see Mel Tillis’ home. Hannah and I were walking back from the park down the street one afternoon when a car passed us obviously following the celebrity map. When we got home, Mel had just finished working with his tomato plants and was getting on the mower to tackle the lawn. He was wearing blue jeans, a long sleeved shirt, ball cap, and sunglasses. The older couple had pulled their car into the driveway and as Hannah and I walked up, the little lady got out of the car and asked politely,

“Excuse me, but is this where Mel Tillis lives?”

“Yes, ma’am, it is”, I replied.

“Would it be all right if we took a quick picture? We will stay here on the driveway and won’t get on the grass”, she said.

“Sure, that will be fine.” I told her, so she headed back to the car to get her husband. As Hannah and I walked on I heard the lady say,

“George, she said it would be all right. You can get out and take the picture – but wait a minute until that gardner goes around to the back so that he won’t be in the picture.”

Hannah looked up at me with big eyes, and I grinned back down at her. The woman had no idea that the “gardener” was Mel himself. George stood waiting patiently to take his picture.

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Mel was a great cook and a great baker. Judy was a good cook also – but it was typically Mel who cooked our suppertime meal. He did two shows a day (2:00 and 8:00) five days a week and would come home in between to cook and eat supper, then get a quick rest before heading back. One day, the 2:00 matinee performance was running long and while he was performing he was thinking about the chicken he had planned to fry for supper. Stepping off stage while the Statesiders band played, he called me hurriedly and told me to go ahead and cut up the chicken in the refrigerator so it would be ready for him to fry when he got home – then he hung up quickly to walk back on stage. I got that fryer out of the refrigerator and stared at it. You see – I had never cut up a chicken in my life. I always bought mine in pieces! I took it out of the package and stared at it some more – then I did what any self-respecting girl would do…..I called my Mother for help. She wasn’t home – and I was getting desperate. The internet wasn’t available to search back in those days – and I didn’t know who to ask or what to do. One of Mel’s older daughters was visiting – home from college for the weekend – and she was asleep downstairs. I went down and woke her up – and together we went to work on that chicken – neither one of us knowing what we were doing. When Mel got home, we had hacked that poor bird into all kinds of pieces – none of them really recognizable. To his credit, he didn’t get upset. He just looked at the pitiful pieces and quietly started breading and frying them. When we sat down at the table to eat, he said, “You all might want to…..cover these with gravy ‘cause I had no idea…….what was what……after you two got through…….wrangling this poor thing!” That was the last time he asked me to do that! Epic fail – but now a fun memory.

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Mel was a constant student throughout his life. He loved to read, and he loved to learn – with a mind always creative and curious. I had flown in an airplane a total of one time before I worked for the Tillis’ – so I was still a pretty nervous flyer when Hannah and I started traveling back and forth from the little airport at Point Lookout, MO to the little airport in Gallatin, TN. When Mel was on the flights, however, he was a bundle of enthusiasm and curiosity. He most liked to ride up in the cockpit with Skip, the pilot….but when he was in the cabin he would sit looking out the window spotting planes. “Look, Lisa – there’s one right up there above us now” he would say. “Oop – there’s another – it’s a little one flying under us!” At first, it frightened me to see all the planes in the air around us. I had no idea they were even there until he pointed them out! Over time, I began to be interested, though – and now I think of him every time I fly – and it makes me smile.

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Eighteen years ago this month, I took some friends to see Mel’s show here in Branson. I hadn’t worked for the Tillis’ in several years at that point, and I didn’t get to see them as often as I would have liked. It was Mel’s very kind tradition to always do an autograph line after the show to meet and thank the people who came to see him. That autograph line could take a long time, and my group was in a hurry that night to leave and get something to eat, so I decided not to interrupt the line to say hello. (I always felt badly to leave without saying hi – but I also always felt presumptuous to walk up and interrupt the line. I didn’t want to be a bother – but I didn’t want to be rude either! It was always a hard decision for me.) As we were exiting the theater I heard a familiar voice call, “Heyyyyy, Lisa!” I smiled and walked over to give Mel a hug and say hello. His eyes were lit up, and he had a big mischievous smile on his face.

“Did you know I just had a birthday?” he said.

“I did! Happy birthday!”, I replied.

“I’m goin’ on 80, can you believe it?” he stated.

I saw people in the autograph line turning and talking – saying they didn’t realize he was almost 80 years old.

“Mel, you aren’t going on 80!!! You’re only 70!” I said shaking my head.

He grinned, looked me straight in the eye and said, “I know…but that’s…going on eighty!!!”

Makes me chuckle even to this day.

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I learned a lot from Mel – and I am grateful to him for everything he taught me. He believed strongly in honoring the flag. I had a t-shirt once with the American flag printed beautifully across the front. He looked at it sharply and said, “You know you’re not supposed to do that, don’t you?” When I asked what he meant, he referred to the flag code and told me that the American flag should never be used as wearing apparel. I’ve never worn a flag in that way since.

He also modeled for me that you should always do your best no matter what. When he decided to put together a cookbook to sell in the theater gift shop, he didn’t farm it out to people in his office – he went to work on it himself. He wanted the recipes to be really good – and to truly reflect his personal favorites. Let’s be honest – the cookbook was probably going to sell pretty well no matter what was in it – because it was “Mel’s Cookbook” – but he wanted to be sure to give people good recipes to try and good stories to go with them. He worked hard to get everything right – and my copy of the cookbook is one I treasure to this day.

When Mel decided to record a gospel album, part of the work was deciding which songs to include. As usual, Mel wanted to get it right – to do a good job. One day at the house he asked me if my Mother had any old Southern gospel albums. I told him she had tons of them – and he asked if he could borrow them. Judy had to buy him a record player to play the albums. During his free time for several days, he sat on the floor playing those old long play records and writing down notes and lyrics from his favorites on a yellow legal pad. He had trouble getting the lyrics to one old hymn he had selected, so he asked me if Mother might have that song in a songbook. She looked through her many songbooks and couldn’t find it – so she called friends around town and finally located it in a hymnal our friends the High family had. Months later when the album was complete, Mel would sing a gospel song during his shows and then give one of the new CD’s away to someone in the audience. One day, Mother and Daddy came to the show and I was sitting in the audience with them. Before Mel sang his gospel song, he asked Mother to stand and told the crowd how she had lended him her records and helped him find the songs for his album. Thanking her publicly, he gave her the free CD. I’ve always been grateful to him for giving her that moment of recognition.

……………………………………

Happy birthday, Mel.

It’s hard to believe you’ve been gone almost three years.

Thank you for the music, the smiles and the laughs you brought to so many, the stories, the lessons and the memories..

I am grateful to have known you.

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Managing My Perspective

I love the blessings and beauty of nature! Anyone who knows me well knows that I enjoy photographing and celebrating beautiful, unspoiled scenes.

When I first bought my current home, one of the selling points was the privacy, solitude, and quiet of the views behind the property. I absolutely loved sitting on my back patio. The land behind my home was wooded – so I had the luxury of watching the leaves change every fall, of watching snow fall among the trees, of seeing the grasses and leaves bud out every spring, and of watching the trees sway peacefully whenever the wind blew. It was all so peaceful and lovely.

Then, a nearby resort decided to build multi-level condos on that property – almost in my back yard. I was so upset when I first heard it – and the thought of losing those lovely views made me incredibly sad. After feeling sorry for myself for a few days, I firmly made up my mind to make the best of things and find the positives to focus on about the new development. I will admit – it was a little challenging at first. I could talk about some sad moments I had, grieving about what was being lost…..but what purpose would that serve? In the end, with a little effort – I found so many good things!

As it turns out, the lights from the completed resort are actually quite pleasant – and now make things much nicer when I sit on my patio in the evenings. The landscaping and upkeep are very well-done so it’s overall very pretty to see. I was pleased to find that the birds, the squirrels, the deer, and the other wildlife I was accustomed to are still around regularly, dropping by in the early mornings and late evenings routinely. You want to know the best part? It is absolutely wonderful to see and hear families coming and going on vacation – just enjoying one another and having fun.

During the recent months of the pandemic quarantine, things were back to being quiet again. The resort sat vacant, and our little tourist town of Branson was strangely empty. I could once again sit on my patio with no cars driving back and forth, no voices interrupting the solitude, no noisy children playing, no people coming and going……it was in some ways back to the way it used to be……and you know what? I missed it all!!!

Sitting on my patio now as I type, I have to smile. The peace and quiet have once again been replaced…..with so many wonderful sounds!!! Just a bit ago, one family of young teens was playing basketball at the nearby court. I smiled as I heard them giving each other grief, laughing, and enjoying the afternoon. Shortly after they gave up the game and disappeared inside, two little girls emerged to play on the playground. The thin little girl all in black who obviously much preferred climbing up the slides to sliding down them – and the tiny determined little girl dressed all in bright purple who practiced throwing a bright blue kickball over and over – trying so hard to get it up and through the basketball goal. As I’m writing now, two older gentlemen have emerged from the condo they are sharing with their wives and are carefully tending a meal on one of the resort’s charcoal grills. It’s fairly hot out – but they are sitting in the shade, enjoying one another’s company, and carefully checking the grill routinely. Whatever they are cooking smells wonderful – and every few minutes one of their wives walks out of their fourth floor condo to peer off the balcony, call down, and see how things are going. I’m smiling again!

The birds are chirping and the breeze is blowing, so it’s very pleasant. I can also hear muffled traffic sounds from the nearby world famous 76 Strip – people driving back and forth to see the sights. A few times each hour, a helicopter flies over carrying tourists toward Table Rock Lake. Every 20 minutes or so, I can hear the “volcano” erupt at Dinosaur Canyon Mini Golf a mile or so away, probably startling and delighting the guests playing there. (smiling again!) The young attendant at the resort occasionally comes racing down the street behind me at a high rate of speed in his golf cart, always with his left foot dangling happily out to the side and bouncing against the cart. (Who wouldn’t smile when you see that? 🙂 )

There was a time when all the noises and distractions could have bothered me. I’m so glad I made up my mind to see the positives. Sitting here by myself on my patio, I do not feel alone. I feel surrounded by people having fun. People who smile and wave as they drive by, people who are working together to have fun and celebrate life.

I am smiling again.

I hope you are also.

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Looking Ahead

Looking Ahead!

I went for a walk by the lake this morning with a friend.

As I often do when walking by myself, I hopped up onto a parking curb and walked the length of it putting one foot in front of the other. When I reached the end I paused, looked ahead to the next curb, and stepped across the gap without touching the ground. My friend chuckled when she saw me – a 50+ year old woman playing tightrope on parking curbs in broad daylight…..but I didn’t care and just kept on going. After a moment, I smiled to myself as I heard her step up onto the parking curb behind me to give it a try herself. Finding it a bit more challenging than she thought, she hesitated when she nearly lost her balance. “Always look ahead!”, I called back to her. “Don’t look at where you are – look ahead to where you’re going. It makes it easier!” She tried it – and it worked instantly. She too began stepping from curb to curb behind me, trying to walk the entire line without touching the ground. (I only stepped off twice.) It was fun!

As I walked, I thought about the advice I had given to my friend – and how much it actually applies to life.

“Don’t look at where you are…!”

Looking down at our feet throws us off balance and leaves us unprepared for what lies ahead. When we’re looking forward to see where we’re going, we walk more confidently and successfully.

Our lives can often be fairly hectic – filled with bills, decisions, responsibilities, news reports, and the many stresses of life today….If we focus our attention mainly on those things, on where we are, our days can be pretty difficult. Even things that are supposed to be fun can be disappointing!

“… look ahead to where you’re going.”

Setting goals helps us keep our eyes on what’s ahead. One of my favorite Bible verses is Proverbs 29:18 “Where there is no vision, the people perish…” This verse can be interpreted in different ways, but I like to think that it means we should have vision for the future, that we should set goals and work toward them excitedly and expectantly. My goals perhaps aren’t always particularly impressive to hear – but they are motivating to me – and they keep me looking ahead to better things.

When I broke my arm this past February, I had no idea how long it would take that arm to feel normal again. I had never broken a bone – so in my ignorance I thought the doctor set your arm, you wore a cast, you got it off, you did therapy for a few weeks and you were good to go forever. This has not been the case at all with me. The break in my arm healed, the cast/splint was removed, and I was sent home with a printed paper explaining the therapy exercises I should do. (Due to COVID-19, supervised therapy was not recommended.) I did the exercises and truthfully they didn’t seem to help at all. I reached out to friends and tried other exercises they suggested. These helped a bit more and I was grateful – but my right arm (my dominant arm) still had a long way to go! I had trouble writing. I had trouble typing. I had trouble driving. I couldn’t even open the door to my car without great effort! My arm was in pain much of the time. Most of my normal day-to-day activities were hampered by my temporarily handicapped arm. So, I kept on working. I tried some new strength building exercises. I researched essential oils to help with healing and applied them daily….and each day my arm gets a little bit better. It’s on the mend! I can now type (obviously! 🙂 ). I can write. I can open the car door. I can drive….

Why did I keep on looking for ways to make my arm better? Because I KNEW it would be fine one day – and I wanted to work to make that happen as soon as possible! I didn’t focus on where I was – I looked ahead happily to the day my arm is back to normal.

It makes it easier!”

How does looking ahead with vision and a good attitude make things easier? Life is happier when we are thinking and planning on good things!

For example, it’s supposed to rain here much of the day tomorrow. So……I can’t go to the pool for a swim. I can’t go for my morning walk. I can’t work in my flower bed.

Hmmmmmm….that means I can plan on a cozy slow morning indoors! I love to read. That sounds like a good option for tomorrow! For some reason, I always enjoy cooking and baking more when the rain is falling outside. I’m already thinking about what to make! Sounds fun! If I’m going to be home in the morning, I don’t have to put on makeup when I wake up! Yay! Another win! I love to write. Maybe I can squeeze in some time for that while it’s raining. Wow! It’s already sounding like a great day! I’m excited!

Choosing to think on good things is sometimes more difficult than others – but it’s worth the effort. It doesn’t mean we should ignore the bills, the responsibilities, the decisions – it just means we should work to not get mired down in them. Worrying about them doesn’t make them go away. In fact, it doesn’t really accomplish anything at all…..but choosing to think on good things can definitely have a positive effect! Try it!

Oh, and by the way, the next time you see a parking curb – step up and see if you can walk the length of it tightrope style.

Go on.

I dare you!

But be careful – seriously…broken bones are no fun! 🙂

(And no – that’s not how I broke my arm! 🙂 No parking curbs were involved in my fall! )

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Adulting Can Be Fun

A few days ago, I had lunch with my mother at our local Cracker Barrel restaurant. As we were leaving, I walked past a retired couple seated against the wall at a tiny table for two. I had to chuckle when I read her sweatshirt. Emblazoned on the front in big letters it said, “Warning! Don’t Grow Up – It’s a Trap!” I stopped to tell her how much I liked it, and we all shared a laugh.

The weather was beautiful that day – very bright and spring-like for February in the Ozarks. Mother and I decided to relax on my porch swing for a bit before she headed home. We chatted for awhile, then we both began to feel drowsy and the conversation slowed. As we sat comfortably enjoying the swing – two retired couples strolled out from neighboring condos to enjoy the afternoon sun. The two men began playing shuffleboard, while the women sat at a picnic table and visited. In a few minutes, another lady joined them and they all sat chatting happily. Before long, the women left their spots at the shady picnic table and headed out to the basketball court, giggling like school girls. Locating a couple of basketballs, they went to work trying to see how many baskets they could make. (Not many! 🙂 ) Their obvious lack of basketball skills definitely did not affect their fun! They were trying fearlessly, laughing at themselves when they missed and chasing the ball down to try again – simply enjoying each and every moment. There were awkward granny shots, hilarious air balls, and even a few great shots that were nothing but net. In the end it didn’t really matter. They were all just having a good time!

Our drowsiness gone, Mother and I sat smiling, now watching both the shuffleboard contest and the basketball tournament with interest. We each selected a basketball player (my player had a blue shirt and hers had a white shirt) and kept score from afar to see which one of our chosen players would win.

It was such a simple, relaxing way to pass the afternoon – and I enjoyed it thoroughly. I am inspired to see people who aren’t afraid to try – even when their skills are not the best. I love finding people willing to laugh at their shortcomings. I appreciate those who step out of their comfort zone instead of sitting on the sidelines. Mostly, I truly enjoy seeing people who celebrate life’s simple pleasures.

Long ago, my first year as an elementary school teacher was both exciting and very challenging. There were so many things to learn that year – so many “firsts” to face. I wanted so badly to do a good job, and I worked very hard every day. I enjoyed my students and my work colleagues immensely – but sometimes I felt overwhelmed and discouraged. In those times, I would often pick up the phone to call my Mother for encouragement. She would listen to my concerns then offer good advice. Sometimes she would share a Bible verse, or a song, or an encouraging poem or article she had saved. I would always feel uplifted. During one such call, however, she completely surprised me. After listening to my discouragement and complaints, she asked me to do her a favor. She told me she wanted me to “school hop” (her term for skipping) up and down my hallway at home two times after we hung up the phone. She insisted on this, telling me that she would be calling back to confirm that I had completed her request. I hung up and stood there alone in my own home arguing with myself. I was an adult now – I couldn’t skip up and down the hallway! Good grief!!! How silly would that be? Reasons why this was definitely not a logical action filled my head. I actually felt annoyed! Didn’t I have enough stress without having to worry about this absurd request??? I questioned whether Mother really understood how I felt – and I turned to walk away, sit on the couch, and think some more about my difficult day. I knew she would call back though – and I didn’t want to disappoint her – so…..I took a deep breath, checked ALL the curtains to be absolutely certain they were closed – and skipped down my hall. I turned around and skipped the other way, repeating the entire process twice. I felt COMPLETELY ridiculous….but you know what? When I had finished – I was no longer thinking about all of the stresses of that week. I was out of breath and chuckling – and my mindset had completely changed.

I think the lady at Cracker Barrel was right, in a way! We don’t ever have to completely grow up. Life has many, many responsibilities, stresses, and chores – but it (can) also hold a lot of joy. Sometimes, even (or perhaps especially) on the most difficult days, we need to square our shoulders, throw aside our worries as much as possible and go outside to play – to act silly, to laugh, to find a way to relax and simply enjoy the blessings around us. It’s not always easy to escape the trap – but it’s definitely worth the effort.

Thank you for reading this post. By the way, today was a very long, busy, hectic day for me. I may just go skip down my hallway now – but first, I’ve gotta check the curtains!

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A Lasting Impact

I have had many heroes and heroines in my life – people who have affected me deeply through words, actions, and examples. We all impact people practically every day – whether positively or negatively. It doesn’t take great notoriety or power to have a lasting effect on others. Sometimes only one brief conversation we have, one quick decision we make, or one action we take can have such a powerful and lasting influence on others…

Last weekend, I drove to central Arkansas to visit family, including my beloved Aunt Bernie. She is an absolute delight to be around, so I always look forward to our talks. A lifelong educator, she loves to discuss teaching, education, and kids. She has wonderful stories of her many years as a classroom teacher, and I love to listen when she shares. Raised with some affluence in Little Rock, she moved to the rural countryside after she married. A city girl, it was an entirely new way of life for her, but she adapted quickly. In her early years as an educator, she taught my father and my uncles in a little two-room country schoolhouse before moving on to a larger, more traditional school (where I later attended).

Aunt Bernie knows the key to being a great educator is building relationships with students – and she has helped to instill the significance of that in me. She does this possibly better than anyone else I know, and I have seen firsthand the lasting impact it has had on her pupils. Retired for decades, she still keeps up with her former students as much as possible. She is saddened when she hears they have faced setbacks and happily celebrates when she hears of their successes. They are, in her words, “her kids” and she is fiercely proud of them all.

When I timidly began school as a first grader, “Mrs. Bernie” was a fifth grade teacher just down the hall. I was so very proud that my aunt was a teacher at the school – and I believed she was the absolute best teacher there. I was always happy to see her during the school day – standing outside her classroom door or supervising students on the playground – partly because she is my aunt – but also because she truly exudes joy and love. She makes others happy with her smile, her laugh, and her genuine appreciation for them, and I felt comforted in my new environment knowing she was there.

When I grew up and decided to become a public school teacher, she was a great encourager. She talked with me about my teaching and my students. She traveled to another state where I lived and proudly toured my classroom. I enjoyed talking with her about my students each year, about the current trends and challenges in education, and the joys and stresses of being a professional educator. She would listen intently and offer good advice. She has always been an enthusiastic listener and supporter. In other words, my Aunt Bernie has definitely been a role model in my life, and I am forever grateful.

While visiting with her last weekend, it was no surprise when the conversation quickly once again turned to education. This time, however, my aunt was so happy to show me an article in central Arkansas’ 501 Life magazine. In the February 2020 edition, there is an interview with a gentleman named Joe Canady, branch president of the NAACP in Conway County, Arkansas. Mr. Canady references people who have had a significant impact on his life including his mother, his grandmother, a lady from his church….and my aunt Bernie. She was so incredibly excited to show it to me.

The entire article can be accessed by clicking the picture. I hope you will read it!

An excerpt is copied here:

Canady was in the fifth grade when his all-black school closed and integrated with Wonderview. While you didn’t have to look far to find racial tension in those days, his new classroom was more awkward than hostile. As the kids gravitated to seats based on their race, one of Canady’s more prominent early role models emerged.

“When the little black kids and the little white kids came together, it was a different experience for us,” he said. “But I remember my fifth-grade teacher, Mrs. Beeson, mixed her classroom (seating) up. She said we’re one class and we’re all going to get along. From that point on, I held her in high regard as to helping our transition go smoothly.”

That year I mentioned earlier, when I was in first grade was also the year Mr. Canady was in my Aunt Bernie’s 5th grade class. I must admit, my eyes teared and I sat up a little straighter when I read his words…and I was (and always am) so proud to be her niece.

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Forrest L. Wood

I’ve heard about fellow Arkansan Forrest L. Wood for most of my life, but sadly I never had the privilege of meeting him in person. My daddy visited with him once or twice and considered it an honor. I certainly knew of Mr. Wood’s notoriety. I have seen his plaque on the Arkansas Walk of Fame in Hot Springs. I’ve heard the stories of his many noteworthy accomplishments in the fishing industry. In the early 1980’s, my high school GCE teacher, Mr. Jerry James, took my class on a field trip to tour Ranger Boats, the company Mr. Wood founded and operated for many years. Last summer, while on vacation approximately 665 miles from home, I had lunch at a restaurant on the shores of Lake Pepin in the tiny village of Pepin, Wisconsin. While chatting casually with a couple who had boated in that day to eat at the little restaurant, I spotted the man’s Ranger Boats ball cap. When he found out I was from Arkansas, he asked if I knew Forrest Wood.  It was fun to feel that connection to home from all those miles away, to smile with pride at the mention of one of Arkansas’ own.

Forrest L. Wood, a native of Flippin, Arkansas, achieved worldwide fame as the Father of the Modern Bass Boat. Most anyone in the fishing industry readily recognizes his name. According to the Encyclopedia of Arkansas, Mr. Wood began building boats in 1968 in the back of a filling station. That was the beginning of Ranger Boats, a successful business he owned and operated with his wife, Nina until 1987. More recently, Mr. Wood played a vital role in the development of an exciting new boat company, Vexus Boats, again in his hometown of Flippin.

In the late 1990’s, Mr. Wood was appointed to the Arkansas Game and Fish Commission by (then) Governor Mike Huckabee. A legend in the sports fishing industry, Mr. Wood received numerous accolades and honors in his lifetime including (to name only a few) – induction into the Arkansas Business Hall of Fame and the Arkansas Sports Hall of Fame, the Lifetime Achievement Award from the Sportfishing Association of America, the Lifetime Achievement Award from the BASS Federation, and the Arkansas Outdoor Hall of Fame Legacy Award. The FLW Tournament was named in his honor. The list truly goes on and on and on…

The state of Arkansas lost an iconic legend last Saturday when he passed away at the age of 87. The news spread quickly on social media. Posts began popping up on Facebook, Twitter, and Internet news, as many friends, family members, and fans paused their busy days to stop and pay tribute to a gentleman they admired greatly. Reading through those tributes and personal stories shared this week, the true success of this legendary giant is realized.  My eyes have teared up more than once.  Here is just one example: (Please read it – it’s definitely worth your time.)

Success comes in many different forms. For some, it means material wealth, widespread fame, the achievement of goals and dreams, and a legacy that continues long after you are gone from this earth. Mr. Wood achieved all of these in his lifetime – but reading through the many tributes shared this week – it is readily apparent that he achieved much, much more. I was taught that the true success of a person is told by their character. By all evidence, Mr. Wood’s character, faith, integrity, and work ethic are his most impressive and enduring legacies. His life, a life well-lived, should be a role model for many.

He truly was a success.

http://https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iRczd2MXCKQ

http://https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_v_WomWkZYQ

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Always a Tiger

I was only eleven years old the very first time I stepped onto the campuses of Green Forest Schools. It was the fall of 1978, and I was beginning my sixth grade year…Being at a new school was scary, but I quickly made dear friends and settled in happily…

Fast forward four decades –

A week and a half ago, I finished my last day as Federal Programs Coordinator and Director of Instruction for the Green Forest School District – leaving that position to pursue another opportunity. I walked through every hall and down every sidewalk that last day with the district. My goodness! There are so many memories on every corner.

I went into the high school on the old junior high side of the building. (That’s the north side – for those of you too young to remember!) Years ago, we used to have a Pepsi machine in the hall outside the principal’s office. I don’t remember the price (maybe a dime?) – but as a student if you hurried between classes you could stop just outside the principal, Mr. Allison’s office and purchase a pop. You would put in your money and a paper cup slid down and filled with slightly cooled soda – which you had to gulp quickly to finish and get to class before the tardy bell rang. I thought it was quite a privilege!

I had to smile as I walked down that old hall. Regardless of who occupies the rooms today, for me, the classrooms at the bottom of the stairs will always be Mrs. James’ (on the left) and Mr. Fancher’s (on the right). Mrs. Taunton’s library was at the end of the hall back then. High school room 120 will always be Mr. Rose’s room in my mind. I spent four years in that room learning algebra and geometry from him. My friend, Jonie Standlee, served as high school counselor for all the years I worked for the district – but to be honest (sorry, Jonie!) she was really hanging out in my high school counselor, Mrs. Sturtz’ office all that time. Teachers, classmates, friends – everywhere I looked, I saw memories of so many special people.

Mrs. Fultz’ Home Ec. building and Mr. James’ GCE building have been moved. One is still used as classroom space – the other simply now serves as a storage building…

I fell asleep in Mr. James’ class one day – but only once! Always a jokester, he allowed my classmates to pile little broken pieces of chalk on my ear until I woke up and the pieces crashed to the floor. Lesson learned – it was the last time I fell asleep in class and I am smiling now at the memory.

Our “Class of 1985” picture is displayed on the wall just outside the teachers’ workroom. Our Senior Monument is on display outside the “Old Gym” where we survived nearly terrifying (but exciting!) dodgeball games in Mrs. Hodges’ P.E. classes.

The building we called the “new gym” when I was in school is now the “Grim Gym” in honor of Coach Fred Grim. I remember when Shane Compton played ball for Coach Grim back in the day. Now Shane is walking in Coach Grim’s footsteps, serving as boys’ basketball coach for the district.

My classmates and I graduated high school in that gym 34 years ago. Ten precious members of my family were sitting in the second row, on the floor, to the right, proudly watching me graduate. If I close my eyes I can see them sitting there. In many ways, that seems like only yesterday…..but I open my eyes knowing that four of those ten loved ones are gone now….

I headed toward elementary down the same sidewalk I walked daily as a sixth grader – our class in a straight line following Mr. George Wheeler, our teacher, to lunch. The old sidewalk isn’t used as much anymore. Back in the day, they would bus us to the cafeteria whenever it rained. Today, there is a nice covered sidewalk for students to use that follows an even shorter path.

Our old sixth grade classroom has now been remodeled into offices for the principal and the nurse, but I remember how it looked back then. Mr. Wheeler had a polished wood and glass display case in the back of the classroom with all sorts of insects and plants and rocks he had collected. He even had his tonsils preserved in a jar – displayed for all of us to see. I remember being both grossed out and fascinated.

I walked across the playground where I once met Festus Hagen (Ken Curtis). That was my first year at Green Forest, and I was so excited that a big celebrity was at our school. I knew this had to be a very cool place if a Gunsmoke actor visited! I mean really!!!

The tetherballs and basketball courts where we played back then are gone now – a building addition stands in their place – but I remember how it looked. I remember it all – both the faces and the places.

I consider it a very great honor to have had the opportunity to go back and work for my alma mater. It was truly a privilege – and one I will forever cherish.

Thank you, Green Forest Schools. Always a Tiger.

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Finding Joy in the Challenges

This afternoon, I left my office for a routine walk across campus to the elementary building. It was swelteringly hot and humid as I stepped outside, and my mind was crowded thinking about all that I needed to accomplish before the day ended. Passing the cafeteria, I headed down the sidewalk past the fenced-in playground filled with noisy, busy, happy third graders. They were climbing the jungle gym, swinging on the swings, and just having fun. As I typically do, I slowed my pace and smiled inwardly as I watched the students run and play. Just on the other side of the chainlink fence, a little boy stood beneath a tall tree, rubber ball in hand, smiling and intently looking up at the branches overhead. He took a breath, aimed carefully, and threw the ball in the air trying to throw it over the branch above him. He wasn’t successful. The ball hit a higher branch and bounced back over his head. He raced to catch it and chuckled softly as he jogged quickly back to his spot under the tree. Standing all alone and smiling expectantly, he planted his feet, took careful aim, and threw the ball again…..only to fall short once more. This time the ball missed the branch entirely, sailing underneath it and hitting the ground, then rolling further away. Laughing, he ran to pick it up and try once again. I walked on, needing to complete my errand but wishing I could stay longer to watch. When I headed back a few minutes later, I was happy to see this same child still trying to learn how to throw the ball just high enough (but not too high) to navigate successfully through those tree branches. He was still smiling and still working hard to get it right. His face shone with perspiration, enthusiasm, determination, and hope.

As I walked past him again and headed back to my office, I felt inspired by his attitude. He was faithfully working to complete a task – to practice a skill he had not yet mastered – to get better and achieve a goal. It was difficult for him – and yet he was excited. He was expecting to eventually get it right – to master the skill. He didn’t mind the failed attempts. For him, they were an enjoyable part of the process. He didn’t have to learn this task – he wanted to. He was genuinely excited and thoroughly enjoying the effort. Perhaps there is a lesson there for all of us.

Our jobs can be quite hectic at times and the demands can often be great. As we all know, life has many challenges for each of us every single day. What if we faced our tasks with that same attitude? What if we squared our shoulders, planted our feet, took a breath and tried our best – then actually smiled when things didn’t go as we had planned? What if we had the courage to laugh when we missed the mark – running to pick things up and try again? What if we saw each effort as one step closer to perhaps this time getting it right? What if we truly found joy in the process?

Wow! What a great attitude! Thank you, young man. I admire your approach! From now on, I am going to try to copy your example.

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Decoration Days – Honoring Our Roots

In the American South, springtime means jonquils, hyacinths, lilacs, and roses; baby birds hatching, frogs croaking on the ponds, gardens being planted, Easter Sunrise Services, and Decoration Days at community cemeteries. Decoration Days have always been a part of my life. As a little girl, I would go to the cemetery with my Daddy the day before a Decoration Day. He would rake and clean the graves and then carry in soil to shovel and build them up. When he finished, each one would be raked free of grass, mounded up with fresh dirt, and carefully smoothed. Gravestones would be washed and gleaming and bright flower arrangements would be placed to adorn the headstones or the grave itself. It was hot work, but there were always others present carefully tending the graves of their own families, so it was a bit of a community social event as everyone worked to prepare the cemetery. It always looked so pretty when we left – everything mowed, and raked, and clean, and beautiful with flowers of all colors and shapes.

The next day (always a Sunday), we would go back after church, this time dressed up in our Sunday best. There was always a crowd – old friends, family members, and schoolmates my parents hadn’t seen since the last Decoration Day the year before. People traveled home from other towns and even other states. Everyone would walk around and look at the different graves, remembering those who were buried there and telling stories about the old days. Children would play (quietly – and outside the cemetery fence because it wasn’t respectful to run and play around the graves) and adults would eventually gather under the trees where the shade helped cool things down a bit. They would continue to talk and reminisce – and I always loved to listen to the stories they told and people they remembered.

There would be a short “Decoration Day” church service at 2:00. Some of the people gathered would go inside to attend and others would stay outdoors laughing and telling stories. I always heard that “back in the day” (before my time) there would be a potluck – a “dinner on the ground” where everyone brought food to share and picnic together. I’m sure people who were not raised with this tradition could think it strange to hold an annual community/family reunion in a cemetery – but to me it is a perfectly natural thing to do. After all, I was raised with it – and I think it’s a lovely tradition that celebrates our heritage….our roots.

I say often that we all stand on the shoulders of the people who came before us – and I mean that sincerely. Without the hard work and innovations of others from years past, we would not have our many modern conveniences and practices. Without them, we would not be able to live the lives we are living or accomplish the things that we do. Because of that, I love the days when I am able to pause, take some time, and look back at those who came before, learn from the memories and stories of others, and honor family members and friends who have left us.

The old tradition still continues. Today I traveled south with my mother to attend the Decoration Day at the cemetery where my Daddy is buried. Unlike those days in the past, we did not arrive a day early to clean and prepare the grave. The tradition of bringing in dirt to “mound up” the graves is gone. (It makes it so much harder for caretakers to mow that way.) Instead, we went out early this morning to clean and decorate the grave, then left to freshen up, have lunch, and return to visit with old friends and family. I still look forward to it every year. There are still so many stories to hear and so many wonderful memories to revisit.

I walked around the cemetery this afternoon admiring the flower arrangements and studying the names on the headstones. The ground was soft and uneven making walking slightly difficult, and the weather was hot and humid. Even more important, you have to carefully watch where you step to avoid the numerous small, almost hidden mounds of fire ants. Still, it’s pleasant to take time to pay respect and remember. Every year, I think about counting how many family members I have buried in that old cemetery. I always start this task and somehow never seem to finish. Today I counted 46 relatives and many more old neighbors or friends. I didn’t cover the entire cemetery so there are undoubtedly several I missed. Perhaps next year! I am who I am partly because of these people (even the ancestors I have never met), and I am grateful that I can take the time to honor them.

As I said earlier, Decoration Days may seem silly or strange to some, and I can understand that……but I am so thankful for this connection to my roots. This wonderful tradition links me to my past, strengthens bonds of family and friends here today, and impacts the future because of the firm foundations it provides.