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March 20, 2011

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OpalToney7-24.jpg (37075 bytes)As I Was Saying
By Opal Toney

Fish tails and tales...
This week’s column was pulled from the As I was Saying archives collection.
I’m sittin’ here thinkin’ back to when we were first told to be sure and attend a meetin’ where we would be told all about the lake that was goin’ to be built, or dug.
Lots of us went and on the way home we were excited, filled with curiosity and some were doubtful. I wrote the followin’ after I got home a long time ago...
Since we are in the process of building a new bait house I GUESS I shouldn’t repeat the fish story I heard the other morning as the one who told it started off by saying, “You don’t even need bait when you go fishing in Cedar Creek Lake!” And right away, Naomi White, from over Tool way, had the attention of Johnny Wood, Joanna Chapman and me, even though I’m not much of a fisherman (or woman).
It seems that after a good day of fishing Naomi and her party were preparing to go to the house. They had one dead minnow left and just for something to do they put it on a hook and left, with the intention of buying some live bait the next day and starting all over again – as is the way with fish addicts!
But when they returned the next morning, they found FIVE huge channel cats all lined up on the shiny new hooks!
Now, like I say, I know little about this fishing business, but even to me, this sounded like a pretty good fish story! But Naomi swears it to be the gospel truth and I believe every word of it. However, I still think buying bait is a good idea, especially when we get our new place open!
But I still have a sneaky feeling that I will find out a lot more about selling bait than I will using it, for no doubt, the fishers in the family will be out trying their luck at catching all those fish in Cedar Creek lake that could care less whether there’s bait on the hooks or not!

The Last Word:
There is more to the story. Many that went aren’t with us any longer and we miss ‘em. The fishin’ is still goin’ strong – and also the tales.
As I was saying, I’m sittin’ here thinkin’.
– O.T.

honeyandflag.jpg (61206 bytes)The View From Here
By Katherine Veno

Living for the day...
It is important that each of us live for the day we have, because we just do not have extended warranties or extensions on time guaranteed. What we are today and what we have today is to be savored, tasted and enjoyed. Welcome to the renewal of spring.
So, the first day of spring is here again, with all the promises and glory of blooms, buds, flowers and big shade trees leafing out. Spring in Texas is exceptionally short, if you judge it by temperatures. The heat is just around the corner, so sleep with the windows open, or nap in the hammock. Cool morning breezes and moderate temperatures in the afternoon are spring’s gift before summer.
Who knows how many spring days anybody has left? The recent tragedy in Japan brings the event of sudden, tragic death to our attention. Children, babies, old people, young people, mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, husbands, wives, friends, co-workers, all were gone so quickly, just before all of their dreams of the day could materialize.
Every time I see a child cut down in their youth, or a young person with so much promise unfulfilled, I am saddened at the loss of living and learning extinguished. When somebody my own age goes, I do not feel as badly, because of all the seasons already past, but still there is a tinge of missing in my heart. They will flash across my memory and I will think about what I presume they would be doing as spring unfolds her arms to welcome us into the perfume of another flower filled, woodland path. I feel the same fleeting sensation when I pass a cemetery and look quickly away as if trying to avoid my own mortality.
Live for the day. Happy Spring.


EmilyLundy4-2.jpg (36194 bytes)Escapades of Emily
By Emily Gail Lundy

Right vs. Left
One theory I’ve come to accept about our thoughts and actions is the right-brain, left-brain concept. I know I’m on the right, good or bad.
This analysis began for me with a grouping of all teachers at a school decades ago. We had a motivation speaker who began her address with a puzzle. We each had a sheet of paper with the outline of a brain drawn on it, numbered blocks outlining the sides. Then as we were presented questions or choices, we colored in the corresponding numbered block. When finished, if we shaded more on the left, we were left-brainers. More on the right put us in a different category.
Of course, this brainy diagnosis of mine grew gradually through my life. With children and then students added to my days, I worsened no matter how I tried to improve. A few tricks from students did not help me. Neither did a messy family at home. Wanting above all to be a Super Mom in the 80s, I was Blooper Babe. Aging has not helped, except not as many audience members are around. One more advantage – I don’t care. Fun and crazy can mate into something good at times. Sometimes, this dilemma brings on gales of laughter, the best part of any day.
Maybe the Felix and Oscar of older entertainment fame would be the typical left-brainer and right-brainer carried to the fullest. Someone ruled by inbred discipline with plans for the day, upset with any interruptions, surprises, or the unexpected would be a left-brainer.
The counterpart can “roll with the flow,” thrive on spontaneity, love surprises, not let changes in plans upset the day, survive catastrophes (but perhaps deal with them later) and much more.
The left-brainer checks for toothpaste before brushing. The right-brainer runs water over his brush, assuming the paste is right where he left it. “Okay, who moved my toothpaste? That expensive stuff is just for me!” Maybe he’ll find it; maybe he’ll use salt for paste and go to bed.
Yes, I’m a right-brained unofficially; my spouse is a mixture; some of my grandchildren have been labeled with attention deficit disorder. Adults in the family run rampant with diagnosed or undiagnosed compulsive disorders or Adult Attention Disorder. I once failed or passed a test to figure me out. The medication made me nauseated. I’m not giving up food for any problem that’s legal.
Back at the group meeting of the teachers, from the crowd came a voice, “I want to see Brown’s sheet and Lundy’s.” (Brown taught science subjects in a sterile room, and I taught English IV in a decorated room of posters, quotes, and had a monthly bulletin board with photos.)
We both held our papers or analyses up for all to see. Raucous laughter rocked the room. Brown’s paper was solidly penciled in on the left; mine on the right. A woman who spoke several languages and could teach multiple subjects was asked to hold her page up. Numbered blocks were distributed evenly on both sides of her “brain.”
Never did I forget that day. There were reasons for my unusual creativity, disorder or lost items. I’d like to be different in some ways, but how? I am what I am.
Brown could not walk by my room without a shudder. If he saw a speck of paper on concrete and then later the tile, still later the carpet on our floors, he had to pick it up.
Brown’s stacks on his desk were “even-stephen” all around. No frills greeted the student. Too many met mine. I wanted the students interested and stimulated for learning. The left-brainers I know don’t ever consider changing.



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