Smile Maker

On this cold, lazy teacher furlough morning, what sweeter photo subjects could Anna have attached to her thoughtful email message? Not one that I know of. CUTIE PIES!

On the Wing

Great Blue Heron coasts over the Chattahoochee River

Finally, I convinced Fife to rent and ride bikes down the Chattahoochee Riverwalk* today. Truthfully, he didn't take much convincing, and he was a perfect companion for the trip: patient and agreeable. We rode all the way to Columbus Water Works' sewage treatment plant (not as bad as it sounds)...just down the street from Key School.
*Check out the interactive, panoramic media for a virtual trip down the Riverwalk.

We chose Trek Navigators from Ride on Bikes on Broadway in Downtown Columbus. Mine was perfect in every way - almost didn't even notice the dreaded muscle aches on the climb up the few hills we met. I imagined myself heron-like -- on the wing. But, unlike the graceful heron, I suppose we'll be sore tomorrow. For $10 each, we could have kept the bikes all day, instead of just the 3 hours we spent on them. What a deal! I know that we'll be back - earlier in the day - for a longer ride. Maybe we'll ride to the Infantry Museum or Oxbow Meadows.

The trail was just as beautiful this winter day as I've ever seen it; the rains from the week-end washed every plant and animal we saw to shimmering splendor. Well, except for the little guy riding ahead of me up one long hill.  My own backside was mud-splattered by the time we climbed the final hill. (No pictures of that!)

We saw a beautiful Great Blue Heron wading by the river bank and looking for a meal, geese swimming and in flight, some cormorants, a cardinal, a ruby throated hummingbird, one (!) squirrel, and lots of leashed dogs, but no gators. Maybe next time...

.

It was a perfect ride on a perfect day on a perfect bike down a perfect trail with a perfect Bike Buddy.

Baseball Lover

Roy Luttrell, Chero-Cola team manager, front and center

My granddad, W. Roy Luttrell, Sr., loved baseball. He played one season of minor league baseball (Georgia-Alabama League) for the Newnan Cowetas. A pitcher, he had impressive stats: .692 won/loss record, but decided that he needed steadier work and swapped playing baseball for banking (National Bank of Columbus and later the Federal Reserve in Atlanta).

Daddy tells me that Granddad once drove to Atlanta to listen to a radio broadcast of the World Series, because Columbus radio stations did not cover it. Later, he enjoyed attending the Southern Minor League games here in town: Columbus Confederate Yankees (1964 - 1966), Columbus White Sox (1967), and the Columbus Astros (1968 - 1988), and, occasionally, the Braves in Atlanta.

When I was about 9, I fell in love with baseball too, playing pick-up games in the front yards of homes up and down our heavily child-populated street. I also loved to walk to the baseball park at the end of the street to watch Little League games - wishing that girls could play too. I remember asking for, and getting, a bat and ball (a girlish softball!!!) for my 9th birthday. I later bought a glove at J.C. Penney with birthday money.

Granddad took me along to some of the games at Golden Park. I remember being disappointed that we sat in the grandstand, protected by a net, insuring that we would not catch any tipped balls. (How would he explain a slammed-baseball-to-the-head injury to my parents? Of course, he was wise!) He bought me a program, pointing out players and facts about them. Roy White, a first baseman, was my favorite. The New York Yankees called him up in 1965, so I did not get to see him play much.

The most memorable trip to Golden Park was probably the last one that we made together. I discovered that generous Granddad would buy anything that I asked for, something that he deeply regretted on the trip home. Embarrassed, but helplessly nauseated, I had to get him to pull over to the side of the road so that I could hang my head out the car door. I don't think that we told my parents about that incident. Hot Dogs! Coca-Cola! Popcorn! Peanuts! Candy Apples! Oh My!

****** Breaking News********
This month our local newspaper, the Columbus Ledger-Enquirer, held a "Most Memorable Braves Fan Experience" contest. Submitting an entry was easy for me because of the work I had already done on this posting. Here's what I wrote, as published in the Ledger on Sunday, August 29, 2010.

... - Baseball - Major League Baseball - Atlanta Braves

Sunday, Aug. 29, 2010

Ledger-Enquirer announces Atlanta Braves contest winners

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Readers were invited to write a story about their favorite experience as a Braves fan

FROM STAFF REPORTS

The Ledger-Enquirer asked Braves fans to tell us about their favorite experience as a fan. Here are the top three as chosen by the Ledger-Enquirer’s Kevin Price, Stephanie Pedersen and Heather Williams.

FIRST PLACE

Name: Emily Whiteside

When I was about 9, I fell in love with baseball and played pick-up games in the front yards of homes in our Lindsey Creek neighborhood, but longed to play on a real team — a Little League team. Unfortunately, for me, Little League banned girls in the 1960s. My granddad, W. Roy Luttrell, Sr., loved baseball, too. He had pitched one season of minor league baseball for the Newnan Cowetas in the Georgia-Alabama League with impressive stats: .692 won/loss record.

Daddy tells me that Granddad once drove to Atlanta to listen to a radio broadcast of the World Series, because Columbus radio stations did not cover it.

My indulgent granddad understood how much I wanted to be on a team, so, to mollify me, he sometimes took me with him to see the Columbus Confederate Yankees play at Golden Park. He would buy a program and then explain what the stats meant while I picked out my favorite player on the field: Roy White, a first baseman. I was pretty much content with that arrangement, as Granddad’s largesse also typically included popcorn, peanuts, and candy apples.

But, he and my father outdid themselves in 1966 (or 1967) when they invited me to accompany them on a Columbus Kiwanis Club trip to an Atlanta Braves game. There were other children on the chartered bus, but I think that I was the only girl. Undaunted, I listened to the men talk baseball and made mental notes about who I would look for on the field: Phil Niekro, Joe Torre, and Hank Aaron. Probably, I made further notes about what concessions I’d select at Fulton County Stadium. This was going to be great!

And it was. The game was rained out. We never left the bus. No hot dogs. No candied apples. No peanuts. No Braves pennant or souvenir program. No homers. We just turned south and headed home.

I was very disappointed and probably sulked a bit. But great it must have seemed to me, because here I am 44 years later remembering the scent of tobacco on my grandfather’s jacket, the scratchy bus seats, and the pride that I felt sitting beside my father that night — girls allowed.

Read more: http://www.ledger-enquirer.com/2010/08/29/1247506/ledger-enquirer-announces-atlanta.html#ixzz0xzsFg2R5

Letting Go of the "Friday Nights"

 For the past 40 years my parents' core group of eight couples has celebrated Friday nights together - usually eating at a local restaurant and later gathering at one couple's home for dessert. They have also traveled together frequently: Europe, Yellowstone, Alaska, Sea Island, and assorted cruises. More than dining and traveling companions, they are, of course, close lifetime friends. The children of the group also formed friendships, and some of us refer to our parents collectively as the Friday Nights.

First Henry, and then Bill, Ross, and David passed away, leaving four widows who have formed a sub-group. As adult children, we have  had a hard time saying goodbye to each of these Friday Nights. At the funerals when our eyes have met, I have seen my own unspoken fear reflected back to me.

Early this first day of 2010, my mother (far right) called with the news that Betty (second from left)  had died an hour earlier - another victim of Alzheimer's Disease. A few days ago Mother visited Betty at the nursing home, as she has done faithfully during the course of this disease. This morning she described her old friend to me: vibrant, sweet, smart, and an excellent mother to her bright, independent children. My mother grieved her lively friend but released her suffering friend - modeling friendship for me: love, faithfulness, and grace.

Faithful Friend

My father (left) and his first friend, Lawrence (right), have known each other from their very earliest years growing up in the St. Elmo area of Columbus. After Lawrence's family moved out to the country, Daddy visited the "Cheney Place" and enjoyed riding horses and playing with his friend on their farm. They've remained friends for 82 years.

Now, Lawrence has Alzheimers' Disease. In sad irony, Reba, his wife and stalwart, seemingly healthy caretaker for this disease's duration, died last month, shortly after a surprise lung cancer diagnosis. Lawrence does not know that she is gone.

For several hours every Monday, Daddy sits with Lawrence at the nursing home  - feeding him, getting him water, making him comfortable, trying to converse with him. I know that this must be incredibly hard for my father, but he is glad to be there for his friend, even though his friend no longer knows him.

Today Daddy made an extra trip to the nursing home to visit Lawrence and tried several different ways to content his old friend.  He remembered that Lawrence liked ice cream - a lot - and went to find some for him. After something of a hunt, the staff produced a cup of strawberry ice cream, which Daddy fed to him. Lawrence eagerly ate all of the dessert. And then he cried. My dad's eyes welled up in telling me about it. "He cried because he enjoyed that ice cream." Probably true, but I think that Lawrence cried because, at some level, he knew that he was loved.

Walk It Off

This afternoon I finally road-tested my new walking shoes down at Lakebottom Park's* track in Columbus' historic Weracoba-St. Elmo area. Being outside was a nice change from walking with the good, but monotonous, DVD that I've been using inside. Lots of people found the weather perfect for jogging, biking, scooting, strolling, playing football, tennis, or basketball. While Will and I chatted our way around the track, we watched different groups of people enjoying the day. Anna jogged the path surrounding the park.

We lived in a tiny craftsman bungalow on Cherokee Avenue, just across from Lakebottom, until Anna was 3 years old. She has made many-a-lap around that park, but mostly in a stroller. While a student at Columbus High (below), Will walked/ran the park perimeter daily during a health class. My father also exercised there during his time at CHS back in the '40's: ROTC drill practice. It's a great, old park and epitomizes "old Columbus" to me.

Being outside also gave me the opportunity to try out my new camera. I played with the settings, but really need to just sit down and look at the manual, I think. Don't like to do that! The Canon PowerShot SD1200 IS Digital Elph is just about perfect for me: compact, 10 megapixels, intuitive (yeah, mostly). One complaint: SLOW. I'm sure that there's a way to improve upon this. The review that I read indicated a better than average shutter lag.

I know, I know: reading the manual may help.

*Lakebottom Park actually refers to two parks, Weracoba and Wildwood, which are bisected by 17th Street.


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Loretta Climbs the Tree

We have missed our cat, Cleo, the last half of 2009, but her visiting sister Loretta has delighted us with cute kitty antics. She reminds us of a younger, livelier Cleo -- kinder and gentler, too. This morning, after we cleared the presents from under the Christmas tree, I noticed its branches swaying and the ornaments bobbing. Surely enough, Loretta perched on a high branch, pawing at one of the nearby bird ornaments. The tree didn't crash, and she allowed me to retrieve her without a fuss - very unCleoesque. Enjoy the brief video below or watch a slightly higher quality version on YouTube.

Luttrell Christmas

 
Blessed. Truly.

Calmer Traditions

As we drove across the 13th Street overpass headed to the candlelight communion service at First Baptist this evening, Anna commented that this had been the least stressful Christmas Eve-getting-to-the-church-service ever. And she was right. I laughed, thinking about years past when I absolutely was stressed on Christmas Eve, having raced to dress both children, cook dinner, wrap and deliver gifts at the last minute. But those harried Christmas Eves weren't very funny at the time. I distinctly remember huffing into the church and tugging children up to the balcony because we were too late to find seats downstairs.

Tonight we arrived early and sat up front downstairs. The sanctuary and the music were beautiful. The black jeans that I wore certainly wouldn't have passed my own inspection a year or two ago. The hot dog and chili supper waiting for us at home was not very "Christmasy". I did not have time to deliver a friend's gift and only sent one Christmas card. We were calm -- less hurried and less worried. What a nice tradition to add to our Christmases.

First Baptist Church
Columbus, Georgia

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To Tiger Town

We had a good day at Tiger Town in Opelika: a little bit of shopping and a fun lunch with my sister and her family. The first cousins weren't too happy to be photographed, but were delightful in every way!

Kitty Yoga

Miss Loretta demonstrates Power Yoga for abs.

They're Back

Looking quite comfortable, all the kids are back in place.

Roots

Pictured here at the left, are my grandmother Kate Solomon Vann, and her brother Ralph. I guess this photograph was  taken around 1895. Allen Espy recently posted two entries on his blog (Major Sensations) about my mother's side of our family -- the Vanns.


Indulge my laziness, please; I really cannot improve on his postings. Read about my grandmother and about “Sam and Kate Plus Nine” on Allen’s blog. On the Sam and Kate entry, you can see my mother,Kate Helen, to my grandmother’s right in the second photo, and second from the left on the back row in the fourth photo.

Family Connections

Being a member of a LARGE extended family is the most fun at Thanksgiving. Visiting with the aunts, uncles, and first cousins - until recently, an assumed constant - is a rite that I treasure more each year.This year I counted about 70 adults during dinner. The children had already run outside to the fishpond. I can never keep up with the names of all the first cousins-once-, twice-, and thrice-removed, and a few hours spent sharing a meal is hardly enough time to do more than to exchange pleasantries.

However, this year, thanks to social media like Facebook and blogs, I've really enjoyed getting to know a few of the "younger" cousins better - virtually. I was especially looking forward to seeing Allen Espy and his beautiful wife, Kade, because I read Allen's blog postings regularly. He is also my Facebook friend.They made the long trek from Asheville, NC to Henry County, Alabama, taking time away from another family commitment to stop by the lake house for a visit with the Vann side of his family. Did not get to chat long, but it was great to hear his voice and to see this lovely couple.

Anna and Martha

My older child, Anna, has always been what her third grade teacher termed "her own personality" -- independent and often unconventional in her thinking. Even as a preschool child, she appreciated strong women -- ranging from fictional role models like Molly McIntyre, the Little Women, Daria, and Rosie the Riveter -- to real-life ones: Anne Frank, Eleanor Roosevelt, and Oprah. As her favorite and most influential teacher of all time, Mrs. Naszcyniec, told me, "You know you have a little feminist on your hands." That was fine by me.

Certainly, as a young adult, she has become a stronger, more independent person -- not backing down from those younger ideals. Nothing delights me more than to hear stories of her wisely met and maturely resolved challenges. She is a role model for young women.

So, when I followed her Facebook postings detailing the anticipation of the Kitchenaid Artisan mixer delivery, I was mildly surprised to read about so domestic a purchase. Then came reports of experimental recipes. And free range, organic poultry. Mill ground oatmeal and farmers' market sausages. The Martha Stewart Show. Decoupage even. A phase, like the Vegan periods in Athens?

No. More like a neo-feminist craft movement, she explained yesterday -  a back to self-sufficiency and know-your/grow-your-own-ingredients lifestyle. And who is at the epicenter? Well, according to Anna, the domestic maven of mavens: Martha Stewart. Martha  has taken on the food industry, believing that our reliance on prepared and over-meddled foods has contributed to a nation with poor health and environmental challenges. Currently, Anna is all about Martha. She is preparing a free-range, organic turkey for Thanksgiving dinner for her friends in North Carolina and is, of course, looking to Martha for instruction.
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A likely role model? Not so much in some important ways. A strong woman and someone to learn from? Certainly. So, is Anna channeling Martha? As Nancy Drew, one of my childhood fictional role models, might have said at such a suggestion, "Eeeps!"

POST THANKSGIVING UPDATE:
Martha Junior shared her organic free range turkey (virtually) with me, and was sure to say that the bird was not overdone, but had dark seasoning on it. I noticed that she took Martha Senior's advice and created an interesting presentation, complete with clementines and greenery. Note also, the Breast Cancer Awareness pink KitchenAid Artisan mixer in the background. She's looking proud...and sassy.

A Conversation with Mr. Georgia Tech

Mr. Georgia Tech --  the current nickname for my Tech sophomore son, Will -- and I talked for 90 minutes as we rode to Atlanta last Sunday afternoon. He talked about his current interests and favorite Internet sites, which mostly center around world affairs, cultures, and religion. I had never heard of some of the sites - Conservapedia and Rational Wiki - but I'll have to admit, they are interesting, especially when juxtaposed. Will knows religion, politics, history, and cultures, which makes conversations with him so much fun...and thought-provoking. He certainly made me think this time, and I'm still thinking. Thanks, Will!

Idle Hour Park Walk

I think that Laurie was on target with her estimation of the duck/geese population at Phenix City, Alabama's Idle Hour Park: hundreds! Resting on the banks, strutting across the road, dozing under the trees, paddling across the lake, and even following us around the loop road, great groups of them seemed to have imprinted on us. Rather quickly we made a habit to look down at the pavement, in order to dodge slick spots that they left in their wake.

Planning to document the afternoon, I snapped away with my camera. The goose close enough to me for a good picture refused to look my way. Put your hand out there like you've got some bread, Laurie. Glad to be anywhere on a Friday afternoon except logged into Clarity, Laurie humored me. But, instead of looking up, the stubborn goose commented with a disgusted hiss at our ruse, doggedly pecking away at whatever delicasy he/she (have no idea) had found on the banks of  Moon Lake where we'd gone to "walk it off" after work.

Our plan had been to burn some calories and chalk off one more aerobic session on our fitness to-do list. Laurie suggested Idle Hour as a different walking spot, and I was eager to give it a try. I'm afraid that I ruined our exercise plans, stopping every few feet to take a picture or to laugh at a funny Laurie observation. We had only walked about a half-of-a-mile when I left to meet friends for an impromptu El Vaquero dinner. Thankfully, Laurie is good-natured and didn't seem to mind.

The late afternoon was beautiful and gave me the chance to revisit the scene of a pleasant childhood memory. My dad had taken Beth and me to Idle Hour one afternoon in the early 1960's when I was about seven and she, about five. Laurie told me that the park had been in a state of decline even then. My memory of the place is vague, but Laurie confirmed what I thought that I knew: we probably rode a merry-go-round and a swam in an immense pool - not much in the way of excitement by today's standards. However, Beth and I remembered our afternoon there for years to come as complete magic. More than likely, my fun Daddy provided most of the magic.

Today's walk was short and, though not especially magical, will yield its own good memories: a good friend, several good chuckles, and a sweet autumn afternoon.

No Denying It...

In town for the Georgia Educational Technology Conference (GaETC), I took the opportunity to treat my favorite GA Tech sophomore (and, actually, a favorite person) to dinner at his favorite close-to-campus spot: Ray's New York Pizza/Cedars Mediterranean. He chose pizza; I chose kabobs. Saying that he had not eaten anything at all earlier in the day, he also ordered the garlic knots and shared my Lebanese rice and grilled chicken.

He was a sport - posing with me for a picture without even one eye roll or "Mom!!!" -- even taking time away from his test prep for a Computer Science Java programming test tomorrow. ICK.Good luck with that! He was a sweetheart to keep his mom company! Thanks, Will!

Funny about this picture: we did not plan the pose, but now I notice the almost identical hand placement. Also, I never realized how similar our hair and eye color are (Yes, yes - the Tahitian blonde color is subject to Wayne's whim). There's no denying our kinship!

Goodbye, Summer

A Good Friend and a Sad Day

Cleo
June, 1996 ~ July 17, 2009