Posted in Relationships, Truth

I Walk Tall; I Got a Tall Attitude

   Four years ago, we took a summer vacation to The Great Smoky Mountains.  To date, it still remains one of my favorite destinations, topping the charts in scenic views, lush mountainsides, and rivers.  We saw so many black bears that it seemed they were making an appearance just for us.  And then there was Dolly.  Dolly’s childhood home, Dolly’s theme park, Dolly’s statues, and Dolly’s Stampede.  As much as we intended to stay strictly in the wilds of nature, we were drawn to Dolly Parton like a pat of butter to a piping hot square of cornbread.

            Gatlinburg, Tennessee is one of the entrances to The Smoky Mountains, and you can’t drive through Gatlinburg without seeing, hearing, and feeling Dolly Parton.  Dollywood, Dolly Parton’s Appalachian-themed park is located in Pigeon Forge which is a hop, skip and a jump from Gatlinburg.  Dolly and Dolly-type things to do are everywhere, and well…when in Rome.

Boo

            I could go on and on about Dolly’s Stampede, where we ate a four-course feast followed by a show featuring music, comedy, animals, and pyrotechnics.  I could tell you about the horseback riders who did tricks, and how patriotic the show was, but what we mostly came away with is the absolute magnetism of Dolly as a country singer, songwriter, actress, and philanthropist.  She gives money for scholarships and donates books to inner-city schools so that all children can have a book of their own to read.  Her talent, charm, and grace are undeniable.  And by the way, she is a Capricorn.  Her birthday was January 19th, the last day to be a Capricorn.

            Capricorns are known to be hard workers.  They are often overachievers, persistent, practical, and sensitive.  They make success look effortless even though they do put a lot of energy and time into their careers and relationships.  And while Dolly Parton is an extravagant example of zodiac energy and creative entrepreneurship, she has a soul twin who shares so many common denominators and the same birthday,  my little Auntie Sue.

            Dolly and Sue, both short in stature and big on attitude, have an unstoppable will to survive and thrive.  Both are givers and have never known a stranger.  Both can kick ass and take names later and both love to love others.   Although Dolly is obviously living life to the fullest, Auntie Sue has gone on to Glory, both are excelling and exhilarating in their respective spaces.

            Dolly and Sue were faithful to their belief in God.  In fact, there is a Bible verse that reminds me of them both.  Proverbs 27:17,  “As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.”  Anyone who ever spent time with Auntie Sue knew she was special.  Her confidence, endearing humor, magnetism, and compassion for mankind was a force that attracted others, drew them in, and encouraged them to be better people.  What a legacy, what a quality to have.  Both of these tiny dynamos obviously lived by Dolly’s quote:  I walk tall: I got a tall attitude.

            I was always one of the tallest girls in my class all through elementary school, perpetually on the back row, center on picture day.  I was taller than every boy in my class until seventh grade.  I was always scouring the pant rack for tall, not regulars, and tried endlessly to find stylish flat shoes with not too much heel. 

            I never wanted to be tall.

            You should be glad you’re tall.

            The growth of my arms and legs was the source of many tears and angst.

            I wish I was tall like you.

It didn’t matter what anyone said, my inner self could not manage a tall attitude.

            Growing up, I would occasionally forget that I was a full head taller than everyone else until I saw myself in photographs or looked down to see my pants fit as though they were ready for a flood.  I was tall, but I never walked tall.  As I gradually grew into my own in high school, I was glad the boys were taller but painfully aware that when standing with a group of girls, I could see the top of everyone’s head.

            In college sorority pictures, I tried to casually slump, scrunching my shoulders to be more ‘right-sized.’  Unsure of myself, holding back and trying to fit my tall peg into a short hole left me never feeling good enough.  It’s the kind of thing self-help books are made of.  Shrinking back, making myself small, so others could be tall.

            Enter Auntie Sue.  Tiny like Dolly.  Big hair, like Dolly, and outspoken, like Dolly,  Auntie Sue believed in me with a force as strong as the Oklahoma wind.  Growing up without my mother, I never had that approval and acceptance that many might take for granted.  I simply bluffed my way to adulthood where Auntie Sue finally reentered my life with a new perspective;  Walk tall and have a tall attitude.

            I have written volumes about Auntie Sue.  Stories about her humor, her sacred sittin’ ugly time, her glory hole, and her fierce loyalty to those she loved.  I will never tire of singing her praises.  I’ll never forget her hysterical Sue-isms, and I’ll forever be grateful for her love.  Her walk-tall attitude encompassed me and lifted my slouchy frame from a wanna-be 5’6” to a real 5’8 ½”.  Unconditional love has the power to make even the shakiest walk tall.

            Maybe some might think it a  s t r e t c h  to compare Auntie Sue with the big as life, Dolly Parton, but I think it’s just right.  As iron sharpens iron, a tall attitude encourages the same.

    Dolly’s living the dream and embracing her tall attitude.  She’s singing her songs, selling her cornbread, and bringing the world together with her podcast, Dolly Parton’s America.  And Auntie Sue?  My little Auntie Sue is still sending her love and guidance to me, and she’s still walking tall….walking tall on the streets of gold.

Posted in #Confessions

I’VE NEVER BEEN A GOOD SLEEPER

Photo by Anete Lusina on Pexels.com

            I’ve never been a good sleeper.  As a baby I’m quite sure I awoke every few hours wanting to be walked and patted, fed and talked to.  As a toddler and up until I went to school, I would lay on my bed at naptime and draw on the wall or wipe my boogers in a design hoping no one would notice.  By the way, they did notice and soon I no longer had to lay there ‘trying’ to go to sleep.

            I’m still not a good napper.  I’ve tried, but it rarely happens for me and when it does, the neighbor’s lawn service pulls up and 3 guys with a mower, weed eater and leaf blower jump out to attack his yard and assault the air waves, leaving me resentful and just a tad grouchy.

            I can’t remember ever sleeping past 6:30 a.m., although I probably did in college. Once on daylight savings time, lightening turned off our electricity, stopping my alarm clock, and I woke up at 8:00, disoriented and late for work.

            I tell myself I’m going to sleep in, and at 5:50 a.m. my eyes pop open and I can’t wait to brew some coffee.  I think I will turn off my alarm and fall back to sleep, but I lay there thinking of all the things I could accomplish if I would just go ahead and get up. I love being up early before anyone else is awake.

            I do have guidelines for myself.  For example, if I wake up at 3:00 a.m., I make myself try to go back to sleep.  If I’m still awake at 4:00, I wait till 4:30 and then get up. 

If I wake up at 4:00 a.m., I make myself lay there until five.  5:00 a.m. is my earliest time to get out of bed, but I have started the coffee pot at 4:30, so basically my guidelines are nil and void.

            The last few years I worked, my school was on the north side of town, meaning I needed to leave my house at 6:45-7 a.m. in order to miss the morning traffic.  I was in bed by 9:00 p.m. and read until 9:30, then lights out.  I jumped out of bed at 4:30 every morning and repeated the cycle.  I have tried to blame my early rising on those last few years, but friends, I’ve been retired since 2010.  Clearly, that is not my problem.

            If we are on vacation, I can never sleep the first night in a strange hotel room. Before I get ready for bed my mind goes toward bed bugs, lumpy pillows and unclean sheets.  Neurotic sounding, isn’t it?  I check the bed, check the air conditioner, check the pillow, make sure I’m on the best side of the bed, and then I can crawl in. 

Hospitals, cars, planes, and trains?  No zzzz’s.

            Hammocks, lounge chairs by the pool, and cruise ships?  Wide awake and rubbernecking, so as not to miss anything.

            I like my own bed.  I have a mental checklist that asks, is it dark enough?  Cool enough?

Do I have something to read?  Ear plugs?  Bite guard?  My mind asks these questions and explores situations, always jabbering away when I should be snoozing.    Shhh, I tell myself, but I’m just not a good sleeper.

            No discussion about sleep would be complete without talk of the dreaded CPAP machine.  Once upon a time, Boo used a CPAP.  If you have ever been near one, you know what I’m about to say is true.  When Boo had it on properly, it was quiet, steady, and reliable.  However, some CPAPS have ‘user error’ when it slips sideways, or there is trouble putting it on in the dark.  When this happens, it is extremely loud.  Loud like a howling wind, tornado, and roaring ocean, all at once.  This occurred more than once and when it did, Boo would use a few choice words, rip it off his face and fall back into a dead sleep.  Meanwhile, I would be shockingly awakened with the roaring sound, curse words and velcro ripping apart. I would sometimes be wide awake until dawn, praying not to smother him in his blissful slumber.

            In my golden years, will I be one of the little old ladies at the home who bothers the night shift or complains that I have been waiting for the cafeteria to open since 4:00 a.m. wanting my coffee?  Maybe they won’t be able to find me a roommate who will adapt to my schedule saying, “She’s a little particular about bedtimes.”  And I surely do not want someone who likes to talk in the mornings, because that is my sittin’ ugly time, and one cannot sit ugly and talk at the same time. 

            All this talk about my future as a nursing home resident may keep me up tonight.  One thing I do know for sure is that no matter what time I go to sleep, I will always wake up between 3 and 6 a.m.  I’m a creature of habit, and I happen to love mornings. But the plain and simple truth is, I’ve never been a good sleeper.