A Cat Named George

DISCLAIMER:

This is NOT a photo of George; the cat in the picture

is Oscar,  another cat who remained part of the family

for a more extended time than George did!

        
         A litter of kittens recently appeared in my backyard. The first time I saw them, they were already about 5 weeks old, and scattered quickly at the sound of my footsteps. When they continued to hide under the house every time I approached them, I suddenly remembered another long ago cat that hid in our backyard.

         When I was about 4 years old, I desperately wanted a pet. There were stray cats around, but none that belonged to me. So when I discovered a cat living under an old building behind our house, I claimed him as mine (even though he was too wild to make much of a pet.) But I peered persistently under the shack in hopes of getting a glimpse of him, and promptly named him George. In my mind, George belonged to me, although he never agreed to the arrangement.

         Much to my delight, I discovered one day that there were kittens under the shack with him, and I felt as proud as if I had birthed them myself. I was bursting to tell someone, and saw our neighbor, Floyd, sitting in his backyard. I ran across the street and breathlessly rushed up to where he sat on an old school bus seat pushed up against the garage.

         “Floyd, George just had kittens!” I exclaimed. Floyd burst into laughter. “Come see!” I persisted, and he allowed me to take his hand and pull him across the street to observe the tiny furr-balls under the shack. He tried his best not to laugh, but the effort almost caused him to swallow his cigar.

         Later, when I recounted my story at the supper table, my big sister once again took the wind out of my sails, which is what big sisters do best. “Silly; boy cats don’t have kittens!” she informed me. Boy, did I feel dumb. How was I to know?

         I think I tried to come up with a girl’s name for George in order to save face, but by then Miss George had packed up her family and moved on. Maybe that was a good “first” lesson in checking things out before you blurt out your ignorance. It’s still a good thing to remember.

Shop Till You Drop

A typical Woolworth diner in the 1950's ~ the kind where we ate in downtown Lubbock after a morning of shopping.

         This time of year always makes me think of the elaborate preparations we made each August in anticipation of a new school year. There were clothes to buy, maybe a new lunchbox or school bag (I don't think we had backpacks then!), and all the required school supplies. We had never heard the term “Shop Till You Drop” when I was a kid. But that’s exactly what we did each August before school started.

We often shopped at Hagood’s Dry Goods store on Petersburg’s Main Street, but for things not available on the home front, we made a day-long trip to Lubbock with a long shopping list.

            At the risk of “dating” myself, this was long before the mall opened in Lubbock and even pre-dated the shopping centers that later sprang up along 34^th Street.

An early start was essential in order to reach Lubbock by the time the stores opened. Mama and my sister Mary Beth and I made the trip, often accompanied by Mary Beth’s sidekick, Vondell. We would drive straight to Broadway Street in Lubbock and leave our car in either a parking garage downtown or at a parking meter. Then we would hit the stores lining either side of Broadway.

            J.C. Penney was one of my favorite places to go because of the elevator. We would proudly step inside the cage when the doors opened and tell the elevator attendant what floor we wanted. I remember she sat on a stool in the corner, dressed up in a straight skirt and high heel shoes with white gloves, and would very professionally turn the crank to close the door and get us to the requested floor. I dreamed of having such a glamorous job as hers!

The Levine’s store on the opposite side of the street, however, didn’t have such a first-class elevator. It had an open-cage design where you watched the dark brick walls race past as it took you to the 2^nd floor. (I later learned that after the Great Plains Life Building opened in 1955, Mary Beth and her friends found it adventurous to ride the elevator all 20 floors to the top. But she never quite got over her elephobia ~ that’s a fear of elevators, not elephants! She was always frightened by the elevator in Levine’s and claims to this day that her elephobia began there!)

            The original Hemphill Wells store was also fascinating because it was the first store in Lubbock to install an escalator. We rode up and down, elegantly gliding our way from one floor to the next.

Some of the department stores used carriers like you see at drive-in banks to whisk your money up to the business office in order to make change. I would stare in fascination, hear the WHOOSH, then watch the carrier travel like magic up the tube to the office. I guess we were just easily entertained in those days!

The Jones Roberts shoe store was another place I liked because there was a large Red Goose figurine on the counter, and I remember when Mama bought me a pair of shoes, the Red Goose laid an egg that had a prize inside for me to take home. I always hoped they would let me examine my feet in the X-Ray machine; what we didn’t know was that those routine X-Rays were actually probably hazardous to our health!

            The typical shopping strategy was to purchase my clothes and shoes first, since I was inclined to get tired and cranky and it was in everyone’s best interest to get me outfitted before that happened.  Once we accomplished that daunting task, we would set out for Woolworth’s and perch on stools at the counter and order our lunch. Being a child who liked consistency, I always ordered a chicken salad sandwich.

            Besides eating lunch, we were entertained by the Dumb Waiter that brought our food from some mysterious place, and later disappeared with our dirty dishes. Once lunch was over, I was usually allowed to choose one or two comic books and then we would set out for the next phase of our shopping trip. Hemphill Wells had a Ladies Lounge on the mezzanine between the first and second floors—a large sitting room with couches and chairs, opening into the adjoining women’s restroom. My mother would park me in the Ladies Lounge with my comic books while she and my sister and Vondell went to finish their own shopping. Leaving children alone like that today would never be acceptable; Mama would probably have been accused of child abuse. But it was a safer time and place then, and I was perfectly content to rest there while they finished without me. They were usually in the same store, or one nearby, and would pop in to check on me often.

            Sometimes, at the end of the day (if I had behaved myself for the most part and not caused too much trouble), I would be allowed to go back to “Woolie’s” or Kress’s Five and Dime store and pick out a toy or a book to take home as my reward. They weren’t expensive toys, just things like a Golden Book or a water pistol, or maybe a book of paper dolls. My sister remembers that there was a small bookstore located on the Hemphill Wells Mezzanine and, although I am certain she was not as well-behaved as I was, she would often be allowed to purchase a Nancy Drew book.

            Once the shopping ordeal was complete, we would load everything into our un-air-conditioned car and head for home, sometimes stopping at the Hidy-Ho Drive-In for a coke on the way.

We usually got home about the time Daddy came home from work, and Mother would have to fix supper after we carried in all our purchases. I’m sure by then she was exhausted from dragging the three of us all over downtown Lubbock in the heat, with me whining and complaining and with two teenage girls giggling and making jokes about everything we did. Just the logistics of getting us there and trying to help everyone make sensible purchases without spending either a fortune or an inordinate amount of time must have taxed her patience. But that was how it was, shopping for school clothes in the 50’s.

One of our favorite places to shop in Lubbock, Texas

The kind of petticoat girls wore under our "full skirts" in the 50's,sometimes layered to form really BIG skirts!

Remembering Lynn

Wilma Lynn Roberts, 1944

When I received the call yesterday that my cousin Lynn was dying, I was thrown momentarily into shock. While I had not seen her in a little over a year, our last visit had been such a delightful one that it was difficult to think of her in any terms except how she was that day.

My sister and I had made the 100-mile journey to the retirement center where she lived last spring, and took her for an outing. She picked Red Lobster when we asked where she wanted to eat, and afterwards we took her over to her old house, where we sat and visited in her comfortable, familiar living room before taking her back to the tiny but homey room where she now lived.

It was a good visit. Lynn was her usual cheerful self—fun-loving, cracking jokes, teasing, but also talking seriously about things that were important to her. She talked of her family and what each one was doing. Make no mistake, she knew exactly where everyone was and what they were up to. Her pride and joy in each one of them was evident, as always. She was overjoyed to have spent the day with us, and we shared good conversation before leaving for our drive home. It seemed at the time that she would be with us for years to come because her health was reasonably good and her mind was sharp, especially for an 82-year-old.

So the news yesterday that she had taken a very sudden turn for the worse was a shock to us. We drove immediately the thirty miles to the hospital where she had been admitted. She was sleeping restlessly, and seeing her in that hospital bed, unaware of our presence, was a difficult sight to grasp. Before we left, Lynn was awakened by the nurse on duty, and we got to speak to her briefly. She knew who we were, and seemed to understand what we were saying and tried to make conversation with us. The comprehension was evident in those beautiful blue eyes of hers, even as she faced her last few hours. She left this earth and set foot in the next life six hours later.

So many memories surge through my mind when I think of Lynn. She was nineteen years older than I, and married just a few months after I was born. Consequently, her children were my peers, and I knew her only as their mom for a long time. They filled that cousin role far more than she did. But as an adult, we became friends and even though I was seldom around to visit with her, she welcomed me each time I came as if I were the very person she most wanted to see.

Lynn related to people that way. She was a warm lady, always welcoming and wanting people to feel at ease in her presence. As a child, I remember my family spending so many holidays and gatherings at her home, and she obviously loved to entertain. She enjoyed people, children in particular, and I have no doubt that those youngsters in her classroom at Farwell Elementary were blessed beyond measure by her care and commitment to building their character.

A few years ago, my sister and I arranged to go spend the day with Lynn one Saturday in October, and since it was Halloween, we stopped and bought masks along the way. When we stopped in her driveway, we put on our masks, grabbed some bags to use for Trick or Treat, and rang her doorbell. When she opened the door, we shouted “TrickerTreat” as loud as we could and stuck out our bags. She howled with laughter, and we stepped inside and gave her a mask of her own to wear. We have a hilarious photo (see below) of the three of us sitting on her couch, grinning and wearing our Halloween masks. It was the sort of thing that tickled her, and we had a great time that day.

It is inconceivable that she is not here anymore; I was not finished being with her and enjoying her company! There were more things I wanted to talk to her about . . . more times I wanted to catch that twinkle in her eye or ask her more stories about our Linn grandparents. Isn’t that the way it always is? Those who are the most special people on earth are those who have never worn out their welcome! We simply are not finished with them yet, and we mourn when they leave us.

But for Lynn, if we believe what we say we believe, this is the best of times! She believed in God her whole life, and long ago committed herself to Him. She learned stories about Jesus from her parents, and taught them to her own children. She “walked the walk” in ways that proved to all who knew her that she had found the secret to a godly life, and was not about to let it get away from her. She knew where she was going after death, and I believe was looking forward to being there. I can imagine her big blue eyes are wide with joy and awe as she takes in the sights of heaven, and reunites with loved ones who are already there. And for that, I am a little envious. I will miss her here, but I will be laughing and singing with her someday in her new home.

Thank you, Father God, for sending this special one to live on earth and love us, and for the opportunity to love her back.

A Birthday Worth Celebrating

Many wished me a Happy Birthday earlier this week, and I am happy to accept the wishes and prayers on my behalf. The thought I had on the morning of my birthday was that, while I don’t feel I deserve to receive any special honor for just having been born (!), it feels good for people to acknowledge my birthday as a day to be thankful for.

Four days ago, I attended the “Welcome Home” party for a tiny baby who died 57 minutes after she was born. Her parents had chosen to carry her to term, knowing she would not live for any substantial length of time. After her birth, they chose to celebrate her shortened life, and in gratitude for God's gift, they shared her with all the extended family during those 57 minutes. Instead of a funeral, they gave her a party to usher her into the Lord’s presence, and it was filled with references to the joy she brought them just in that short time of being with her, and how honored they were that God chose them to be her parents.

I was struck at her service by the thought that so often, we work hard to be loved and appreciated, based on our own merit. We believe our value comes from what we have accomplished: how well we do our jobs, whether we are good parents, how much money we make, what our title is, what university degrees we have attained, what awards we have been given, our reputations, our bank accounts, how many people are on our Facebook and LinkedIn pages, what brand of electronic gadgets we have . . . the list goes on and on. But the takeaway from that memorial service for baby Brylen Rasco was this: God loves us and we are loved by others for who we are, not what we do. 

The sanctuary of the church was packed, but not a single person other than those most intimate family members and friends even saw little Brylen alive. And she did not live long enough to establish a personality with character traits nor a life with deeds that would gain her any merit. She was simply loved because God created her; God loved her and valued her enough to send her here even for that short period of time. Nothing else gave her worth. There was nothing Brylen earned or did to deserve the love people felt for her. Yet the sanctuary was filled with people who did love and honor her.

As I sat in the Welcome Home service, I realized that it’s the same for all of us, not just for Brylen. We are all valued creations of God just because He gave us life. And I think surely my friends and family have celebrated my birthday because He created me, not for anything I’ve done ~ because I surely have not brought fame or notoriety to myself through great deeds. And thankfully, I don’t have to! It is enough just to have been given life, and to use that life to celebrate God’s goodness.

Thanks to everyone who celebrated with me and Brylen this week. If you are still trying to earn your way to the approval and love of others, and if you are hoping you can earn God’s love, STOP IT! Don’t go there! It’s a lie, and it absolutely does not make you a person of worth. You already have that, just as Brylen did. Her worth existed without having lifted a finger to do one single thing to deserve it. So does yours!

(click below to read Brylen's obituary)

Brylen Danielle Rasco