Summertime and the Living is Easy

If you don’t like the weather in New England, just wait a minute…
Mark Twain

At times, I think I would like to move down south from the northeastern part of the USA. Then again, I would miss the changes of the seasons. Also, I understand the humidity can make the weather unbearable in the summer, the deeper you go in the South. Yep…I hear that Amen from my southern brothers and sisters.

So, all and all, in New England, the summer is pretty nice.

My days revolve around my family, especially my grandchildren.
We live in close proximity to them. My grandson only has to lie on the floor upstairs, near the floor vent and yell…” Granny, can I come down?”

He will be doing that more often with School vacation being here.

Thanks to a yard with trees, I can watch the kids play on their swing set and run through the sprinklers. I’ve even joined in water gun fights with them.

I like cooking out. Doesn’t it seem like food that is cooked outside, tastes better? My son and his family share some meals with us. He is a great cook. There is even a brick fireplace/oven in our backyard. Brick oven pizza, cooked outdoors…yum!

When my children were younger, we did a lot of tent camping. Lo and behold, my husband told me the other day that he is going to go camping for a few days. Even though I feel bad about him being alone, I can’t bring myself to sleep on the ground and deal with bugs and everything else that goes with camping. If I have a change of heart, I will give you all a report on the days in the forest.

On rainy days, my grandkids and I make tents in the living room. We eat our lunch under the blanket tent. At times, we gather a bunch of instruments and make lots of noisy music.

Another summer tradition has been joining the Reading program at the Library. It runs for four weeks. They get credit each day of reading and earn rewards. I am such a supporter of the Library. New worlds open up to children there.

Although I love the beach, being fair skinned, I got sunburned most of the time, in my growing up years. Skin cancer was not a worry back then. Though I do not have cancer, my skin is sun damaged. I also get sick in the full sun. I have to avoid it now

Summer wouldn’t be complete without a car trip down to the shore. We don’t do sunbathing anymore, but my husband likes to fish while standing out on a jetty. I bring a good book along. There is something refreshing and healing about the ocean air, isn’t there?

The trip wouldn’t be complete without stopping for a meal of fried whole belly clams. Yum! And I don’t mind the times we might stop for a Lobster Roll either.

Many people have told me, especially when my patience is not at its highest level, that my grandchildren are going to have such wonderful memories of what they did with their Granny. I try to keep that in front of me, when they are poking at each other and tattling on each other and saying “I am hungry” or “there is nothing to do.” I know you moms and dads know all about that!)

So,, my motivation for activities in the summer, are that I want my grandchildren to have a Granny that is reasonably happy and fun to be with. I want to be a Granny who can do cool things and think of great ideas. I also want them to mind reasonably well.

I was telling my granddaughter the other day that my two most favorite days of school were the first and the last. Her eyes got really big and said “Granny, could we have that Carnival we talked about last summer?”

I said "sure, sounds like fun to me."

To all the reader of this blog, talk to me the next day, when I am plopped on the couch, regaining my strength!

Give me warm weather and Attie Gene's lemonade anytime...

What's not to love about Summer! If I sat down and made a list of my Top 10 best memories from my youth, I'm sure at least 6 would come from the summer months. Like Tracy, Vacation Bible School was a big part of the break from regular school. The adults always made sure each year was memorable and exciting...and I greatly appreciate that fact to this day.

As a teenager, I was always looking for ways to make money in the summers. Opportunity usually came in either a hay or tobacco field. Growing up in East Tennessee, both types were in abundance. It wasn't unusual to gain a day of work by word of mouth. My dad would say 'so and so' needs help with hay on Saturday or 'so and so' needs to top his tobacco tomorrow...and there you go. The going rate was usually $20 for an entire day which was a fortune for a teenager back then. Once you got the rep for being a good worker, you'd stay busy most all season.

Putting up hay was hard labor in those days because everyone 'square-baled' back then. For you urban types and kids born after the Reagan Administration, a square bale of hay is a near extinct commodity that was neither light nor square.


These days, square bales are usually limited to Fall decorative displays...well...and erosion controlling devices in some of the poorer counties. Farmers got away from baling this way because it was labor intensive...and labor for such task has gotten both scarce and expensive.

The process involved a tractor, trailer/wagon and a dozen or so workers. The weak link usually drove the tractor. Stacking the bales on the trailer required the most skill, so the process wasn't a perpetual repeat of throwing bales on the wagon, stacking, bales falling off the wagon, throwing bales on the wagon...

Everyone else was a thrower, and I was usually in that group. We would work, share stories, and laugh at people who picked up a bale with an unfortunate tortoise or unusually slow rabbit who got in the way of the baler and ended up mauled. It was hard work, but at the end of the day, the $20 was very real to me. I wasn't about to run out and spend it frivolously on something that would be a distant memory by the next weekend.

Later in college, I worked  in the warmer season as the gardener for Judge Thomas A. Shriver, a former member of the Tennessee Court of Appeals in Nashville. Judge Shriver liked to help local college students where he could, and through a stroke of totally blind luck, I got the gig to work at his home when he needed things done around the grounds. Now it was my responsibility to contact the Judge or his wife, Attie Gene, to see if they needed me for work. I would check in a couple of times a week with each call always resulting in a few moments of encouragement from both of them on my school efforts.

But working at the Shriver's became much more than just a paying job for me. The day would start with meeting the near 90 year old judge 'out back', where he would be in his yard hat and boots. There I would get my marching orders for the task at hand with each list always ending 'and turn the compost pile.' Often Judge Shriver would point at a tree or bush he wanted trimmed, but the shaking of his hand would leave me wondering which of the 3 or 4 plants he was referring. So not to embarrass him, I would walk over to the area and placing my hand ask, 'This one Judge Shriver?'

Lunch was always educational and more adventurous than the yard work. Mrs. Shriver would call us in by literally ringing a bell. The Judge would change footwear and put his hat up for lunch. We would wash up in the basement and proceed upstairs where lunch was served on the Shriver's silver settings. Not to paint a wrong picture here because the Shrivers were obviously well off financially, but their home was modest and seasoned. Judge Shriver would eat his lunch in front of the television from a TV tray after his wife got him situated and served. She would then join me at the table where the lunch spread was both diverse and plentiful. I experienced my first crumpet at that table and hot tea poured from a silver pot. It all seemed so...surreal.

Mrs. Shriver: So you found a snake in the yard? Was it the poisonous kind?

Young Tony C: No ma'am, just a black snake. I took care of it.

Mrs. Shriver: More blackberry preserves? Could they get into the main house?

Young Tony C: No thank you. I don't think so. We've got the doors around back sealed pretty good.

Mrs. Shriver: Thank heavens. I would just die if one got in the house. God made the woman and the snake mortal enemies in the Garden of Eden...you remember.

Young Tony C: Yes ma'am I do. But don't worry. That one will never bother you. That I'm sure.


By the end of lunch, Judge Shriver would be well into his afternoon nap in his reclining chair. I would go back to the yard to finish my list and any other task I could see needed to be done that day. By the time the turning of the compost pile got around, the Judge would be awake and back in the yard with me. Then came my favorite part of the entire job. Getting paid? No, not quite. Judge Shriver and I would clean up and go to the front porch where Attie Gene's famous lemonade would be waiting. No matter how busy I was or what I needed to get back to at school, we would always sit and talk over at least one glass of lemonade. He would share with me a story from his past that was actual living Tennessee history or a favorite story from the Bible.

Don't ask me how I knew the magnitude of those stories as a naive, brash college student in Nashville looking more for the fun side of carpe diem than the philosophical significance...I just knew. I needed the money, and that's why I took the job. But no matter how hard I worked, the payout I received in time spent with the Shrivers combined with the actual wage always outweighed my efforts. It was an experience in my education that I consider invaluable.

I've never been on any court that didn't involve a ball. I'm pretty sure there are no silver serving trays in my house...well...at least to my knowledge. My home is modest at best. But I truly hope to share the same experience with some young person at some point in my life.  I have a ton of stories, know a bit about biblical life application, and Mrs. Tony C makes a pretty decent pitcher of lemonade too...

What do you think of when you think of summer?

When David suggested the topic of summer and Jesus I was a bit stumped. (OK, David, I DID go to VBS all my elementary school years and loved it.) But then I remembered an event that totally rocked my world when it happened.

I attended public school. When I was in high school I was blessed with lots of friends and involved in many extra curricular activities (not to mention that I actually liked most classes and learning); I just didn't know very many Christians. Especially not any that were super into God, His Word, and who wanted Him first in their lives. At church it seemed like the kids in the high school Sunday school class weren't into God or the Bible either. They were interested in the same things as the kids at school; the opposite gender, clothes, movies, music, cars - everything except the Word. I was interested in all those things too, but I was more interested in God. I kind of felt like a dork because I really wanted to get into the lesson the Sunday school teacher (a college girl who attended the local denominational college) presented, yet I didn't want to be the only student who ever answered questions or got engaged; it felt so awkward.

Then one day during summer school this older girl that I vaguely knew, who was in the same class as my boyfriend (who believed but was a super new Christian), invited him to a Bible study at a guy who went to another high school's house. The study was sponsored by Campus Crusade for Christ. We went and I'll never forget the pure joy that event stirred up inside of me that hot, summer, night.

There was a room filled with people my age and most of them were every bit as excited about Christ as me. I remember that afterward by boyfriend wanted to leave but that I couldn't tear myself away until only the last few people remained. It was so incredible to talk to other teens about things that really mattered to me. To realize that I was not alone in my faith. I couldn't get enough.

That summer I learned the importance of spending time with people of like faith. I experienced the meaning of fellowship.

Since then it's always seemed to me that summer presents a special time for relationships. Everything can be fun, casual, and outside. There's even time after work, since it doesn't get dark until later, to do things with people. Summer just seems to represent hanging out.

What about you, what does summer represent for you?

S + J = C

I woke up this morning to the sight of humidity literally dripping from the windows.  The 13 year brood of cicadas in Tennessee are making outdoor activities less than pleasant.  Yes, it's summer in the south.  I am thrilled to be back after the long cold sojourn to South Dakota.  However, even I will admit that the summer weather in South Dakota is often better than the heat and humidity of middle Tennessee. 

When I first heard the topic this week I thought S+J=C.  That stands for Summer plus JESUS equals CAMP.  I have a ton of camp stories that involve Jesus and a few that don't.  This topic has given me inspiration to write about some of these stories so head over to Sounds of Hope in the next few days and read some of them.  I'll tell you how I met Jesus on the island, met Jesus at Ashford Hills, met Jesus at Camp Challenge, the list goes on and on -  After all, Jesus ALWAYS shows up at church camp.  My favorite story of meeting Jesus at camp came as an adult at Harmony Hill Camp in Fulton Missouri.

Harmony Hill is a "holiness" camp.  My mother had married into a small denomination of people called the Church of God, HOLINESS.  Good folk, really good folk whose interpretation of holiness at the time included a long list of externals such as long hair for the women, no make-up, no jewelry, no mixed bathing (that means swimming with members of the opposite sex for you heathen :-), dresses only for the women complete with elbows covered, no TV, no movies, no alcohol, just clean livin' and Jesus.  

I sent my children to their kids camp a few times.  After kids camp, then came youth camp which meant camp meeting, under the "tabernacle."  These meetings were always attended by all ages.  I guess if you were young at heart, you could come to youth camp.  The tabernacle (pictured above) is a permanent take on a tent with no sides. Eventually cool breezes would pass through the building during the nightly gathering.  Mixed with the cool breezes was the stirring of the Holy Spirit.  While these good "holiness" folk weren't holy rollers and didn't approve of tongue talking, they did praise and pray loudly.  Under the shadow of the nuclear power plant down the road, the air was filled with the organ playing gospel music.

I took my seat with my step-sisters near the front.  I had gone to great lengths to appear holy.  I had scrubbed my face, covered my elbows, and took off all jewelry but a watch.  Watches were allowed because they were functional and not for adornment. My skirt and sleeves were long enough.  However, my hair wasn't.  I attempted to put it up in order to have it look longer.  There were a few heathen friends and backsliders who came to camp. I didn't want to appear as one of them.

The rousing music filled the hillside.  It was a beautiful night in early August in Missouri.  Humidity was giving way to the cool of the evening.  I'd come early enough to have a good meal in the mess hall complete with beautiful red tomatoes from someones garden.  The holiness women had cooked a good meal for all of us.  Smiles and friendly greetings abounded.  My step-sisters were well known.  I was welcomed as well.

As is usually the case at camp meetings, the Holy Spirit began to move.  As the sweat was dried by the paper fans with pictures of Jesus supplied by a local funeral home, you began to sense your mortality and the coming judgment.  I don't remember any preaching that night.  Usually a white male with a short haircut, his suit jacket over his starched white long sleeve white shirt and tie, sweating profusely he would preach the Word.  This was followed by a call for salvation, re-commitment, or sanctification.  The tabernacle was charged with the Holy Ghost that night.  The organ was pleading with sinners to come to the altar.  The preacher was weeping.  There was a lost soul there that might slip into eternity without Jesus.  

I knew Jesus.  I had for years.  I might not have been holiness, but I did know Jesus.  I respectfully put my head down and prayed for this lost soul.  The tension and fervor of the praying climbed with every chord of the organ.  Heaven and hell were fighting over a soul.  These good folk were doing battle in prayer and would not leave until that one came to the altar for deliverance.

There was a tap on my covered elbow.  A woman stood in front of me.  Big tears streamed down her face.  She said to me "won't you come to the altar with me and find Jesus?"  I smiled and assured her that I knew Jesus.  She persisted, the organ persisted, by this time she had gotten the attention of the righteous.  All eyes were on her and I.  All prayers were directed toward me, the sinner, the outsider, the one whose hair was just not long enough.  I considered my options.  There weren't many.

After another attempt to persuade this dear woman that I did know Jesus and was "saved," I went to the altar with her.  I figured why not?  None of the other options seemed good at the time.  As I knelt at the altar, the people shouted, the organ stopped pleading, I was their sinner that night.  Since I was at the altar, I thought I might as well pray.  I did tell God that while I knew I knew Jesus, if there was a reason for me to be here, He could do anything He wanted with me - no sense in wasting a good opportunity to recommit your life to the Lord.  Women gathered around, weeping and rejoicing over my lost soul being redeemed.

I am sure the people were glad that the service could conclude and they could go to their cabins for the night. The sinner had come home.  There was a new name written down in glory.  They had fought the good fight for my soul and had snatched it from hell.  Fortunately, I wasn't staying at camp so I drove home in my Volkswagen beetle wondering - wondering what that was all about...  I knew the good holiness folk would sleep good that night knowing their battle was not in vain.  I never went back to Harmony Hill. 

Holiday Survival Guide

Today is Memorial Day. I hope you enjoyed last weeks blogs by the faithful regarding the true meaning of this day.

This week the Kingdom Bloggers are going to write about summer - and Jesus!

Once the parade is over, the 21 gun salute is fired, and I am undone by taps, I silently thank God for freedom to just be an American. I have spiritual freedom, and I am free to do many more things than folks around the world. It is a day to miss my dad, and the chain of unspoken thoughts seems endless on the ride home. HERE is last years story.

As I pull in the driveway, there it stands, glimmering on the farmers porch: the grill! It is also unofficially summer in southern New England! (I know, and the Bruins are still playing hockey and it's 91 degrees outside!) 

That's right, it is a sign of manly freedoms earned, a return to the prehistoric phenomena known as fire! The thoughts of sizzling meats, and the smell of BBQ sauce captivate me. In my world, if it can be eaten, it can be grilled - well not Lucky Charms.

Here are some quick tips to make it a great holiday. I hope you'll share one of yours in the comments section and feel free to add a recipe!

Gas: That's right, fill up the extra tank early, because you know they are closed - it's a holiday!

Be Daring: We really do grill everything. Other than the obvious steaks, chicken, brats, hot dogs, shrimp, salmon, tuna and gak, tofu burgers, we also grill fruit and vegetables are not often on the list. Corn, peppers, squash, apples and even pineapple. And don't forget kabobs of every type!

Spices: If it's on the grill, it's needs to be spicy. Lots of great spice combinations, but the common denominator seems to be cayenne pepper. HERE area few you might like!

Marinades: We have favorites for different meats and fish. Teriyaki and garlic for steak, Italian or zesty Italian for London Broil, Honey Mustard for chicken breast, Honey Teriyaki for salmon and traditional Brown Sugar or Buffalo BBQ for chicken wings and drum sticks.

Cool Sides: We like sides made with vegetables in varying sorts of salads and slaws. I'll let Martha Stewart handle this! Of course you might just want pasta salad, so HERE is that list.

Cool Drinks: From water to beer and everything in between, ice cold drinks on a hot day are essential!

Dessert: It just seems fitting to have frozen desserts or fruit to refresh the pallet for the next Swiss burger! HERE you go!

I hope that you have memorable Memorial Day.