|As I Was Saying
By Opal Toney
Fish tails and
This week’s column was pulled from the As I was Saying archives
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
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
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’.
View From Here
By Katherine Veno
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.
|Escapades of Emily
By Emily Gail Lundy
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
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