Things Don't Seem To Be As Scary As They Can Be... When There's Light

Things Don't Seem To Be As Scary As They Can Be... When There's Light
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

Have you ever been afraid?  Wake up late at night... feel very afraid?  Maybe hear sounds from the past... it make you uneasy, afraid?

Tonight, I awoke to a sound, a shaking on the bed.  I thought it was Chadwick maybe scratching.  I saw his body moving.  I jumped up as I realized he was having a convulsion.  I was so frightened.

I ran to the wall to turn the light to turn the light on.  Then, I ran to the side of the bed he was... but, he slipped off onto the floor before I could get to him.  I was so upset because I saw his head at a strange angle.

I, hurriedly grabbed him up, speaking to him.  I held him up until he began to become aware of his surroundings.  He was disoriented, and I let him lay on the floor.  He could hold himself up, okay.

I ran to get a damp cloth... I wanted to wipe his face, thinking it would help him.  I came back to him, went to wipe his face.  He must have still been disoriented ... he seemed afraid; he growled and I stopped.

I looked into his eyes... I could see he 'wasn't himself'.  I wonder why he had a convulsion... I know he didn't get hold of anything to hurt him.  I felt fear... I feel sick now, as I write.  I wanted to wipe his mouth, his chest off.  He wouldn't let me.

As if in apology, he walks to me now, for me to touch him, love him.  I do, as I look closely at him, to see if he's alright.  I know sometimes, he'll have a bad dream... I wonder if that's what happened to him.

My prayer is that he'll be okay, and not be sick.  I just want our Pups to healthy, well.  They are our family, our world.  They mean everything to us.

I just turned to look at him... he has finally laid down after walking through the pet door to go outside, come back in... several times.  I have the fan on to make the air circulate.  He seems to be enjoying it... be relaxed.

I feel better now, that I sat here to write my fear, worry.  I am calmer, inside... now.  I'll be glad when the morning light comes... things don't seem to be as scary as they can be... when there's light.

Sounds from the past... when I was a little girl ... for a short period of time... my beautiful mother had convulsions.  I can't tell you what it did to me as a young child... I won't try at this moment.  It would take too long.  I can tell you that I would be physically sick to my stomach, shake and tremble... I would be so afraid it would happen again... and see her face... her body.  The nightmares... the fear... it is too much for a little child.  The violent shaking, the sounds... I have to stop now.

She never did it again... but, for a year maybe... it would happen.  She never found out what caused it to happen.  I never forgot... the nightmares followed me for years... I would dream she was under my bed... and she was..............  I couldn't bear for my mama to hurt... to cry when I was a little girl.  I loved her with my very Heart.

My 9-11 Poem... I Have To Remember... Because I Must

(My 9-11 Poem)

I Have To Remember... Because I Must 
Written By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee



Grief in my heart... tears in my eyes
I think even God can hear my cries

So much death that day, grief fills my heart
That's the day... families were torn apart

I just walked down my Memory Hall
Closing these doors, I can't bear this at all

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
I have to remember, because... I must

No one should be forgotten in this event
What they went through, the day terror was sent

I don't only cry for myself
I cry for the 9-11 families that are left

To carry their burden of grief, pain
Just as I carry mine... the same

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
I have to remember, because... I must

Ashes To Ashes... Dust To Dust; I Have To Remember Because... I Must (What 9-11 Means To Me)

Ashes To Ashes... Dust To Dust;  I Have To Remember Because... I Must            (What 9-11 Means To Me)
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

The Pups have eaten breakfast from their clean, stainless-steel bowls.  Kissy grabbed his milk bone from the treat bowl I put out for each of them.  He is laying on the carpet, chewing it... making a little crumbly mess.  I'll vacuum it up in a little while... the main thing is that he enjoys it... that's what treats are for.

Each Pup has 2 stainless-steel bowls that are washed before they have breakfast, and before their evening meal.  The first 'big' bowl is for their meal... the 2nd 'smaller'  bowl is for a little extra dry food, and several treats.  The treats are usually a chew stick, and milk bones.  I put 2-3 treats there to last throughout the day.

I'm writing about the Pups... our Precious Pups... Kissy, Chadwick, and little Camie.  Little Camie is our little puppy I rescued... have been nursing back to health.  It's a story all its own... that's the new book I'm writing at present... Camie's Angel.

Many people have befriended Camie on her Facebook page.  The link is:  https://facebook.com/camocameobates .  She has her own Followers, also.  They will know, recognize alot in my book about Camie.

I am writing about our Pups... only for this moment.  I am sitting here with such grief in my Heart.  No one looking at me would know how heavy... my heart is this morning.  I've been like this for several days... knowing how much the 9-11 events affects me.

I feel I could lay on the ground, and turn into pure tears... a long, flowing river of tears for the death, destruction of 9-11.  It breaks my heart... it hurts me to my very soul.  I could scream as loud as it would wrap around this world like a comforting blanket... the pain, the pain.  I can't take this pain away for anyone.  I hurt for the thousands of people directly affected that day.

My tears flow down my cheeks, so much that my skin burns at this moment.  I just watched about the dogs that played such an important role in the 9-11 events... not only were they used for searching for survivors, the deceased.

They brought comfort to people who would begin smiling when they saw these dogs... they got comfort when they stopped for a moment to reach out... pet them.  My heart cries for the beauty of it... in such horrific circumstances.

I see all the destruction around ... in the middle of it, a fireman squats to pet one of the dogs, smiles though his heart and mind are seeing things... no one should ever see.

I sit here watching the 9-11 documentaries... I cry inside.  You can't hear me, but... somewhere on a different frequency... something's bound to.  The emotion...

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust... comes to my mind.  What's so strange is the very morning it happened... I was standing in front of the tv as I began to become aware of what was happening.  I couldn't see through swollen eyes, hear for a numb mind... I had to peer closer in order to hear, see....

See, I was already in the most horrible shock of my life.  My mother had died on September 09, 2001, on a Sunday.  We had come home from Raleigh, NC.  We'd been shopping, and a strange thing happened while we were in Sam's Club that Sunday.

My attention was caught by a beautiful 'jar' with a lid.  It was blue, and white... the design elegant.  Out of the blue... it came to my mind, it looks like an urn.  I blocked that thought out of my mind, put it in the shopping cart.  I wanted it to put on the counter; inside were Biscotti biscuits to enjoy with a cup of coffee.

We got home that evening... I walked past the telephone.  I saw the red light blinking, indicating there were messages to be heard.  I waited to put our purchases in place... the Biscotti jar on the counter.  'Urn'... came to my mind once again.  'Urn'..... I felt a little unease.  I went on to ignore the thought 'urn'...

A little later, I was standing by the telephone in 'pure shock' at what I'd just heard.  I cried out for Skip... he didn't hear me.  The shock had taken my voice down to a whisper.  Skip!  Skip!  Skip!  Please come, Skip!

He heard me, rushed into the room to me.  He saw my face, knew instantly something was very wrong.  I knew it was, too... but, I... didn't know what.

I had pressed the button to play the messages... and the room filled with a sound that sounded as if it came from another world.  I recognized the sound as... being my mother's voice... only I had never-ever heard her voice sound like that.  Mama!

The sound was bone-chilling.  It was a 'keening' sound that at first, I just couldn't understand what it was.  The tone, the sound.... Mama!

I began pressing the button over, over... I could hear her trying to scream out, "Faye-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee, please help me-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee"!  I won't go any farther here... I can't.  I still have that cassette... I have hidden it from myself.  The pain .... I can't bear the pain of listening.

When time went by, I connected dots... and there were things 'not right' about her death.  I won't write about that ... ever.  People have died... people are still living... they 'know'.

Before I could call my Mom... the phone rang.  It was someone we thought of as a real friend... only to find out later... he never was from the beginning.

Secrets.... so, many secrets... walls... people who pretended to be other... than what they were.

Deceitful, lying... but, always smiling, kind, wonderful.  'GOOD' people........ when your back turns... a 'whole other life is being played out'.  Walls... walls, I was never allowed to find the door to... to 'see'.

Pain here... I've 'come to a wall' ... I'm standing here mentally beating my head against it.  Let go, let go.... I 'have seen' on the other side through others' actions, things they said... reactions... do you know, I really didn't want to see.  Riddles, only more riddles for a story I ... can't tell.

He told me my mother died that evening... Skip!  Skip!  Skip!  Please help me, Skip!  Please help me!  September 09, 2001... Sunday evening....

A person dies on a Sunday evening... by Wednesday evening all her things are removed from the house.. her clothes taken out of the closet... they hung on one side of her husband's clothes.

On the other side... only 'the color purple' ... remained; hanging by his clothes.  'The Color Purple'... the strange thing is... I still love the color... purple.

THOUGHTS... expressions on different people's faces as they stood out on the front deck... frozen in shock... blood drops on a white Avon headband... the house was cleaned hurriedly... Mom's things from beside her recliner moved, stuffed back... a whisper in my ear to get Mom's handbag... I ask permission first from her husband.  Hearing the words from someone I loved, saying: 'she's dead, ain't she, goddamn it'!  Deeper shock... I can't function.  Did I really hear that ...from...?  The list goes on, just as 'jumbled up' as the words in this paragraph... something's wrong here.  Can't think now... Mama!  "Faye-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!  Help-ppppp me-eeeeeeeee, Faye-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! I can't take this!  I'm going to die, my mama's gone.  Mama!  Help me, Skip!  Help me!  I can't bear this!  Hope for a moment, a phone rung... 'she's dead, ain't she, goddamn it'!  I'm hopelessly lost once again... in darkness.

For the three years, until after my mother's death, I had been battling cancer... non-Hodgkins lymphoma.  I had lived in darkness with the fear of dying... going through so many treatments, chemotherapy, tests, scans... my life was almost living at a hospital...

Not only that, more darkness came as I began to win my battle... Skip was diagnosed with colon cancer... he began going through his battle... still going through it when I learned my mother had died.

No end to the darkness... one thing after another.  I learned my favorite aunt, my father's youngest sister... had died.  She died when if I'd been told, I'd never understood... I was so sick, myself.

A step-mother constantly calling... never calling before in my life... to monitor me... through Skip.  He was innocent of her motives... she won by telling my Grandmother... that I was dying.  That took care of my inheritance ... my aunt had died... she couldn't keep her promise of making sure... the doors were left open... and a wicked stepmother 'stepped in'... smiling.

Ironically... after I got better... Skip got better... she began to get very sick.  She wouldn't tell me what was wrong... we did go see her... took her out to eat at Golden Corral... she couldn't eat even one bite.  Looking at her... she was so thin.

We suspected she had cancer... she never would tell us.  Being respectful... we didn't pry in her life.  We never did... she entered our life... when we were weak.  Skip was so innocent... he thought she was genuinely concerned.  I was too sick to tell him... don't trust that woman.

She won... I will never forget what my Grandmother told me just several months... before she died.  I'll never forget how she looked down... my stepmother had fooled her.  No, her words will stay in my mind until the day ... my last breath is drawn.

Strange enough... with all that's happened in my life... I've never become bitter... I don't hate.  I just 'know' what people will, can do if given the opportunity.  Think of how animals in Africa do... when another is weak... they become easy prey.  This is the thought that comes to my mind to describe.  What is the saying? Only the strong survive...

Another thought comes to my mind... a little 9 year old girl being watched as she goes too far out in the ocean... the other two little girls are stopped before 'they go too far'.  What was the difference, all were only one year apart?  One was a step-child... insurance policy taken out at her birth... who cares, she's not my child.  Riddles, more... riddles.

My life is full of them... you probably won't ever hear the answer to ... most of them.  You know... we all have to go to our deaths one day... and we all go with one secret, or other.  Even the person 'who tells everything' ...will die with an untold secret.  Who would believe them, anyway... some are very hard to believe ever... happened.  I know...

Death... so much death in my life.  Grief... I've known such grief in my life.  I don't feel sorry for myself... I don't wallow in self-pity.  I smile... I go on.  You don't have to be touched by my pain... I don't share it with you.  It's private... I don't talk about it to you.

I 'come here to write my pain'.  I make it into stories... if 'you' read it... you 'choose to take your time' to read it.  You can walk away, no excuses to leave... they are only words.

If you feel something... it's because you let yourself do so.  If you do, you only feel 'a small fraction' of the pain inside me.  Aren't you so glad... it isn't you?  I am.  I'm strong... I've made it this far... everything is going to be alright.  I 'know now'... that's why I grew up in 'Hell'... it was to prepare myself to 'walk out of it' on the paths I traveled in life... I made it when I thought ... I wouldn't.

What I'm looking forward to ... now... are the good things in life.  It's time, and I 'feel' that.  Time for both Skip and I, to know peace... and have a good life.  Skip is more deserving than I... he has worked the hardest of any man I've known... he has been stressed more than any man I've ever known.  It's time for life to be good for him... he is truly deserving.  Skip is a truly good person.

I am meaner than Skip.  :)))  He is more kind than I.  He has more patience than I do.  I care as much as he does... but, I'm just meaner.  No matter how good I am, try to be... I'm still 'meaner'.

I'm the one who has 'hell burn inside me'... it was already burning when I was born.  Life events made it burn more, burn less.  I've tried to turn that 'hell' into a 'fireplace'... one that will keep my heart warm, loving, caring.

I still feel 'mean', sometimes.  It's a battle I will fight until the day I die.  I don't want to be mean, I love being a good person.  When I say 'mean' ... I don't mean 'hard-core' mean.

I mean that I am sometimes short-tempered, I anger quickly.  I really try hard not to... it doesn't make me feel good... 'but, it's there'.  Pain... pain in my body every remaining minute left of my life... the trade-off to live.  Pain... makes me 'feel angry'... I never take medicine to relieve it.  Why?  I don't want to be addicted to drugs in order to live.  I don't want to clutter my mind, I want it to be clear.  I love to think.

Pain is the trigger that fuels the flames of anger.  I have to fight that all the time.  I could have not had these years if not for a trade-off in pain.  I love to live... I love to see the sunshine, feel the gentle breeze of the wind, feel the sand between my toes.  I love to hear birds singing, wind chimes ring... dogs bark... people talk, sing... I love the sound of water running... I 'pure love' life.

So... I'm going to do my best to smile through my pain... I'm sure not going to lay down and .... whine, cry, and sing 'woe is me'.  Pain... I will fight you... and I'm going to win.  I have life to... live for.

I have written pain here of another kind... not just the physical pain.  I wrote mental pain of losing a precious person in my life.  I have a lot of regrets... there are things I wish I had done... knowledge came 'too late'... to help my mother.

I wish during the 3 years I was so sick... my mind constantly in and out of darkness... my mind focused on just trying to get well... I wish I had been able to 'know sooner' what my mom was going through.  I was too sick... things happened.  I didn't know... until too late.  Just as I began to get better... Skip was diagnosed with cancer.  Isn't it amazing... from May 1998... through 2002... all this happened... and more?

Our home burned down, claiming all our belongings December 28, 2004.  Another death... someone I cared about... someone who dearly loved my mother... was always there for her... who also, knew her secrets... talked to me... died several days after our home burned down.  A log truck hit her head-on, killing her.  I grew up with her in Hell... she was my 1st cousin... my sister as a child.

Soon after that, Skip almost died in a big truck crash in Moriarty, New Mexico.  Several weeks after that... a bank robber almost hit him in the side of his truck... fleeing from law enforcement.  Several weeks 'after that'........ a woman runs a stop sign in front of Skip... he hits her.  It seemed like one shock after the other... one after the other.  I've known shock so many, many times.

The strange thing is... the list goes on... so many more deaths.  People 'I truly loved'... began dying.  Skip had escaped death three times... 'things came out of the blue... almost took him'.

Everyone knew I would have fought for my mother.  Strange... remember what I said about the animals in Africa.  They wait until there is a weakness... then, they strike.  They devour their prey with tooth, and nail.  Yes, I know... more 'riddles'.  Life is full of riddles... and sometimes, that's the 'only way' ...something can be told.  Only the sharpest person could know that... and then, it'd take 'forever' to learn ... the story... some of my stories.

The man pulled the woman out... through the smoke.  She lay there coughing, she couldn't breathe.  Tears come into my eyes... she almost died.  She's a survivor, she made it through the 9-11 terror attack.  Her name was Sheila Moody.  My mind has gone back to my tv... I am sitting here remembering 9-11... a lot happened that day.

A lot happened in my life just before... and afterwards.  Mine was on an 'individual scale'... 9-11 events were on a 'mass scale'... oh, the loss of life, it breaks my very heart... my mama died, too.  It broke my heart.

Ashes to ashes... dust to dust.  I see dust, papers 'raining in the wind' as they fall from the twin towers... on tv.  So much life lost, wasted... gone.  My mama was gone, too.

Hate... pure hate... came out of the blue, no one knew.  Someone had their mind focused ... while others didn't know.

Animals in Africa... strike when no one's looking, killing their prey.  They wait until the strong... is weak, unexpecting.

See... I can't think about just 9-11 terror attack by itself... that morning... something awful had already occurred in my life.  My mother had just died... my thoughts are all jumbled up together.  Entangled is a better word.

My mind never did register the attack on the Pentagon, and the plane that crashed in Pennsylvania.  I find that strange... my mind took in the attack on the twin towers, the World Trade Center.

While I watched it later play out on tv... my mind screamed with the pain of the terror, panic, death... the horror... the destruction... it also, screamed at the loss of my mother.  I can't separate the two in my mind... so, entangled both became... I can never think of one without the other.  Oh, the grief... oh, the grief.

My mind is filled... with many doors.  Each door opens to a different memory.  I call this in my mind ... Memory Hall.  There are more doors that open to sadness... but, there are also, those 'good' doors.

'Ashes to ashes ... dust to dust'... this is the one thought that says it all... we went to pick my mother's ashes up on 9-11-2001.  All the while in my mind... I could see the 'ashes raining down' from the sky... from what I saw on tv, before we left to go get them.

Ashes, dust...... this memory is just that.  A thought came to my mind... when our home burned down... my mother's ashes were 'burned' again.  The container holds that scar to this day... where it sits in her Rose Chest.

Today I cry inside at not only the loss of my mother; for the loss of so many people that day.  I picked my mother's ashes up... as I watched others fall ... that day.  My words can't even describe the grief I feel inside...

_______________________________________________

I Have To Remember... Because I Must
Written By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

Grief in my heart... tears in my eyes
I think even God can hear my cries

So much death that day, grief fills my heart
That's the day... families were torn apart

I just walked down my Memory Hall
Closing these doors, I can't bear this at all

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
I have to remember, because... I must

No one should be forgotten in this event
What they went through, the day terror was sent

I don't only cry for myself
I cry for the 9-11 families that are left

To carry their burden of grief, pain
Just as I carry mine... the same

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
I have to remember, because... I must

Let Me Burn In Hell!

Let Me Burn In Hell!
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee in three above photos...

Two flies were on the glass of the storm door.  One flew a short ways, landed once again on the glass.  I watched several minutes, got up... unlatched the storm door, opened it.  I let those two flies go their way.

I don't like flies, I normally grab the fly swatter.  This time... I was too lazy to walk to where I kept it.  Too much trouble, when I am already standing here at the door.

The sound of the tv in the background.  Old, whiney, teardrop music... a tear in my beer; Miley Cyrus 'twerking' again, nude on a wrecking ball.  The image came to my mind... her old, big tongue crawling out of her mouth again... like a sea snake poking its head out to prey on something.  A ... hungry, big-ass tongue.

What's wrong with her... she has the world by the tail... and she's come ... to this.  She is young, full of life, thinks the world is all about her.  You all know we've been there... done that.  There was a time when each of us... thought the world was about ... us.

I sense that's where she is at in life, now.  The sad thing is that big, old tongue is defining 'who Miley Cyrus' is.  This past weekend... it wasn't only her tongue at work... she was slapping a midget's... little ass!  One dressed in pure white... at that.

A lawyer begins talking about social security disability.  Just tell him, he'll get your benefits going... you don't have to do a thing... but, be disabled.  If you aren't disabled... just be, anyway.

A red van passes by slowly... I look closer to see 'why'.  These days, one never knows.... a car load of older, black people.  I recognize them... no, they had better not stop.  I look at the 'No Solicitation' sticker on the storm door.

I begin closing the wooden door.  I can't talk to them.  I respect their views on religion... but, don't come here to shove it down my throat.  I won't allow it.  I saw what your religion did to my mother, stepfather.  Family members... It ........... them up.  This is my take on it.  I'll voice it, if I want to.

I locked the door, stood with my back against it.  I know what happens next... sure enough it does.  The sound of a horn began blowing... the driver has parked in my driveway to sit, blow the horn, signaling that he wants me to come out.  He wants to shove religion down my throat, so... he can feel happy with himself.  He has saved one more soul from going to hell, today.

Go away, leave me alone in my hell.  If I'm in hell because I don't believe as you do... let my ass burn.  I'm not going to be swallowed up in a religion, I don't agree with.  I'm not going to let you brainwash me.

I've watched your flock destroy family members... you won't get that chance with me... then, leave me alone later... never to be seen or heard from again.  Come sit in my home, drink my coffee and eat my coffeecake while you sit there ... superior to me.  Who do 'you' think you are?

You sit there spewing the things you have been taught to say... not realizing how you sound.  Just get this soul... and go your merry way to grab another one.  Why would... I... listen to you?  Someone who isn't that intelligent... yes, of course... you look very nice.  Being dressed well doesn't get it.  It's what you say with that mouth of yours... you tangle up your words, not sure even of what you are saying.

Why would I listen to you?  Why would I open my door for you to come in, tell me I'm going to hell?  How do you know?  You can't answer that question when I ask you that.  You begin sputtering words that don't make sense.  How about you leaving, never come back?  Go fool someone else... you don't fool me.

I believe in God with my very Heart.  I know there's a God... I've witnessed miracles in my time.  I'm a good person... though I don't go to church.  I don't have to 'go out there in public'... prove anything.

I don't have jump up, down... pray so loud that everyone will see what a good christian I am.  I don't have to wear my fancy clothes to make you think I'm something I'm not.  I don't have to look down on you, to make you... think I'm superior to you.

Nor do I have to tell you... you are going to hell if you don't believe in my religion.  Yes, you surely are going to hell... no ifs and buts... if you don't fall down on your knees now... accept my religion.  Amen!

Here, take this book, it's self-explanatory... read it, it'll set you free as an eagle that soars across the sky.  You'll be perfect, no matter what you do... this religion will cover all your sins... it says it all.

No matter what you do, you can still preach the word of God... and tell people they're going to hell, if they don't be what you are.  Not one of you can answer my questions in the nicest way to satisfy me so, that I feel I should... go on your path, travel with you on your sure way to heaven.  I'm not going to be one of your 44,000 people to go to heaven... I'm surely going to hell, since I don't believe in you.

Go your way, I'll go mine.  We'll see if we ever meet one day... who knows?  The table may turn... and your path goes down... my path goes up.  You can't preach anymore... though some of you never practiced what you preached.  I knew many of you... it seemed you wanted your cake, eat it, too.

I knew enough of you from the time I was a child... to know I don't want your religion.  What?  You can't be friends, unless I accept what you believe in?  Go, enemy... go your way.  I'm sorry you feel that way.  I love everybody... I don't expect everyone to believe as I do.

How do I ... know my way is the one?  I don't... but, you will quickly say... it's your way... or no way.  I don't say that... I respect, accept you the way you are, what you believe.  I don't have any books, papers to push on you, tell you that you need to read them... if you don't... you're going to hell.

Stop... don't you preach at me anymore.  You don't know what hell is.  I was born in hell... as a little girl I played with the flames of hell to survive the burns given to me.  You want to know what hell is... look at me... it's in me.  Only the goodness in my heart, my soul protects the hell from reaching out to grab you, to burn you.  I'm a good person... I can't say I don't have the hell in me... because, I do.

It's all about trying to be the best person you can be.  About choosing good over evil... loving, caring, giving ...about people, animals.  What can you add to that?  I knew it... you don't know what to say now...

I know why you were recruited in your religion... you hoped it would help you get out of not having money, material things.  It didn't work, did it?  Yes, I know you're wearing pretty clothes, I don't deny it.

Yes, you look so nice... but, how do 'you feel' inside?  Do you feel ... godly; do you feel that peace inside?  I knew it... I can see your eyes mirroring your soul.  You must not have heard that your eyes mirror your soul.  Your eyes... say it all.

I'm sorry, I care with my heart that you aren't happy.  I can see you don't feel inside... what you preach.  Until you truly feel passionate about what you believe... don't go around trying to convince someone to come over to your side.  You are looking down, now.  Your head is bowed... is that a teardrop on your tie?  Are your shoulders shaking?  Did I hear a sound?

I looked away out of respect, my heart felt heavy.  Who was I to say what I did?  I looked back, felt compassion.  I walked over, put my hand on that person's shoulder.  I hope how much I cared traveled through my arm ... from my heart ... to his.

I think his eyes opened... he saw something wasn't right inside of him.  He may have thought about who was he to go tell someone they are going to hell if they don't convert to his religion.  Maybe he was crying for the people he'd convinced in the past to join him... misery loves company.  Now... they were left floundering... while he moved on to... save more souls.

He was fishing in the sea... pulling those fish out, one by one.  Throwing them up on the shore, forgetting them... fishing for more.  What had become more important to him... was fishing, catching all he could.... while the ones he'd caught... perished on the shore, wasted, never knowing what was... next.  Left rotting on the sand... never no good to anyone... to themselves ever again.

I saw that happen time after time through time.  I saw fish floundering... on the shore.  The people who caught them, went their happy, merry way... only interested in what else they could catch... throw on the shore.  They never looked back at the damage they did... they never looked back to see the impression they made.

Are you trying to go into that all over again?  Did you not see what you are doing?  If you didn't, I doubt... there's hope for you.  Your brain has been washed... until you have no sense of anything anymore.  You only know how to fish... throw fish on the shore, never looking back to see what you've done.

Don't give me that book... you're still fooling yourself.  Leave now, I gave you time when normally I don't.  Why?  To see, if I were fooling myself... if I were being fair... to give it another chance.

Oh, hell no... I don't want no part of you.  Who are you to tell me I'm going to hell?  I've already been there... I know what it's about.  I feel good inside being myself.  I'm a good person, no matter my mistakes.  I went on to be better, I always will.  I have peace of mind knowing I don't do wrong.  I don't try to lead others down paths I don't feel at peace on... you go your way, I'll go mine.

If I go to hell, at least I'll go with peace inside... knowing I didn't lead people astray.  My 'hell' will burn with the warmth of love, caring, giving... it'll burn with the passion of wanting to be the best person I can be.  So, let me burn in hell!

I Thought I Could Tell You More... But, I Just... Can't

I Thought I Could Tell You More... But, I Just ...Can't
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

Mama...

I was standing in the middle of the floor.  I couldn't think clearly, my mind was a fog.  The pain in my heart was overwhelming.  I put my hands over my eyes, rubbed them.  I've got to get ready, I thought.

My eyes were swollen, my vision was blurry.  I wanted to lay back down.  I couldn't, we had to be some place that morning.  Some place I didn't want to go to... the last time I was there... oh my God.  I couldn't bear to think about it anymore... but, the vision came into my mind, I couldn't stop it.

No!  No!  No!  My mind began screaming from the pain that pushed the words from my very soul.  I could see in my mind... standing there... Tommy and I were standing there... we were the only ones ... who stood there... looking down.

Fresh tears flowed freely down my face, my chest felt like it was going to explode.  I felt like I was going to faint... oh my God!  Oh my God!  Oh my God!  Mama!  No! No! No!

For a moment the tv caught my attention... I saw some buildings smoking, heard excitement in the narrator's voice.  I saw a plane crash into a tall building.  I stood there, vaguely wondering what kind of movie it was.  I was feeling my face, touching the wet the tears left.  I rubbed my fingertips gently under my eyes.

I stiffened... I leaned closer to the tv... I just couldn't see clearly.  I was going into a deeper shock. Something about the picture I was seeing on the tv screen.  I couldn't quite grasp what was happening... but, it was sinking in through the state I was already in... something bad is happening!

I was in another world... like being outside of a glass window... it being foggy... and I was trying to look inside through the tiny places that were clear.  My eyes were squinting... I was trying my best to see the picture on the tv... hear what was going on.  Shock does something to one... it numbs one's hearing... their sight... you can't feel anything.  I know shock well.

Slowly, it began to sink in... the twin towers were being hit by planes!  I watched, my very soul was screaming in pain for the people who were running, screaming, crying.  Their cries, their shock ... I felt it through my shock... my grief-stricken state.

Soon, I was crying for what was happening... though I couldn't understand all at that moment.  I just knew it was BAD... and so, bad that it came through my grief to affect me.

We had to leave, be some place in a short while.  Skip, Tommy, and I went outside to get in the Expedition. I wanted to lay down... I felt weak.  The weight of grief is heavier than any weight anyone has ever had to carry... I know.  I've never know a heavier weight to bear.

I laid my head back against the headrest.  I couldn't bear to keep my eyes open.  They burned, physically hurt.  They hurt being closed.  They hurt worse... being open.

We drove to Wake Forest, NC... to Bright Funeral Home.  There, we picked up my mama's ashes.  We picked up my mama's ashes on the morning of ... 9-11.  My mama died on 9-09.  She died four days after the first birthday of her first great-grandchild.  She had only met her great-granddaughter... once.

I won't go into her death... it seems like I could do it after all this time.  It's not easy tonight for some reason. So, I won't.  I can't bear to think... now.  I would have to travel too far 'inside' ... I don't have time tonight... it's hard to come back.  For some reason, I feel I don't have that strength it takes... not tonight.

Tommy and I stood there... looking down at my beautiful mother. She looked to be in her late thirties... so pretty, her hair freshly washed.  An expression of pure peace lay over her face... it was soft, beautiful on her. It was invisible... I could see through it.  My mother was only 63 years old...

I didn't see any lines anymore... oh, mama... how beautiful you are, I thought.  My tears fell on the hand I held in mine.  I placed my hand on her face, touched it gently.  I pushed her hair back, whispered to her that I loved her.  I told her I was sorry... sorry, I wasn't home when she called, left a message on our answering machine.  Screaming... screaming, begging... for me to help her.  I can't think any farther... 'why'... was she screaming as if... my mind freezes.

Oh, Mama... I cried inside... no sounds ever escaped from my soul... they were trapped deep in me.  That was my way... I never could cry ... out loud.  The pain of crying is ... too much.  I've known my share of tears... diamond tear drops.  If all the tears I've ever cried in my life were frozen into diamonds... oh my!

I stood looking at my mother.  She was swathed in a white sheet... I tried so hard not to look... but, my eyes were drawn to a ... hose that led up into the sheet.  Embalming... for a moment I thought... she's being cremated... why?

I looked up at Tommy.  Tears were falling down his face.  Tommy was like me... he hurt in silence.  If one didn't bother to look... they'd never know.

I won't go any farther tonight.  It's rare I speak of this... today is September 09, 2013... my mother died September 09, 2001.

On September 11, 2001... we went back to the funeral home to pick up her ashes.  A very sad thing happened in the parking lot that day.  I won't even go into that ... at this time.  So many painful things... tonight, I'm not strong enough to talk about them.  I thought I was.........

I thought I could tell you more... but, I just... can't.

People May Be 'Who You'... Hope Them To Be (You Know I'm Right)

People May Be 'Who You'... Hope Them To Be (You Know I'm Right)...
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

Artwork by Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

I don't know if I'll be living tomorrow.  I'm going to eat everything I want 'today'... just in case.  Years ago, we were out with my cousin, and her husband ... we went to eat supper together.

She got a little extra on her plate... she was very hungry.  She'd been dieting.  Her husband took half of her food off her plate, transferred it to his plate.  He told her 'you don't need that food'... and he sat there, ate it as if he did.

He, and his big, fat belly sat there... enjoyed that good food his wife didn't need.  I looked at her face... it was red, embarrassed.  Tears sprang into her eyes... I wanted to cry for her.   Suppose it was her last meal?

It wasn't her last meal... but... close to it.  Not long after that, she was killed in a head-on crash.  When I look at her husband today... I hear his voice in my head... 'you don't need that food'.  I see him in my mind, 'eating it like he did'.  His fat, little belly moved up, down as he ate it quickly, swallowed it.  He never glanced at her to see the pain he caused.  He 'needed her food', more.

He never knew the impression he made on me... us.  It will never leave.  Come to think of it... 'be damn' if he doesn't remind of one of those 'damn' little flesh-colored, fat-bellied kiddiddlehoppers!  I never thought about it until this moment!

I don't have an excuse for the weight I've gained.  I can only say in my defense that life, and what it's brought to me... contributed to it.  I've been hurt many times by the loss of everyone I love, the many things life has hurled at me.  But... that's okay 'now'... I made it through.

I'm here... stronger for it.  I've learned so much in life... I'm the most grateful person you'll ever meet.  I care with my heart... and now, I'm big enough to put my pride aside... say so.  Love, caring, giving... being grateful for everything.

Not only that... if I could right every wrong I've done in life, no matter how big or small... I would.  There are things we can't go back to change, no matter what.  I wish...

I've been in shock many times through the years... and I've lived in a lot of darkness... the worst being when Tommy died.  Being overweight is an emotional issue... a deep one.  It doesn't matter... it doesn't define who I am.  I'm like a yo-you.... my weight fluctuates constantly.  That's a 'good' thing... I never forget how 'both sides feel'.  :)))

I've been 'lost' so many times in life... it's been hard to find my way back.  When eventually I have... I 'woke up to life' once again.  I would do healthy things... felt good, lost weight.  Before I knew it... something else in life 'knocked me back on my ass'.  I would go through the process of 'getting up, dusting my pants off'... 'to try it again'.  To... live again.

In my life, many 'bad things' have happened... normally people only experience maybe a couple or three things in their whole life.  They live, go on and life's good for them.  It hasn't been like that for me.  But... mind you... I don't complain, though I write about it.  I'm grateful to get to live... it means the world to me.  :)))

My life, my experiences have become my stories to tell... my colors of my life.  I write what's on my mind... what I think... what I don't think about.  My words are mine, no one else's.  I don't write anyone's life story, but... mine.  If you happen to be in it... you touched my life... one way or other.

I've lived through losing more than 20 family members on both sides of my family.  These weren't 'just any family members'... they 'were the very ones I loved with my very heart'.  Then... I lost my only child, Tommy, my son..... that was worse that anything ever in my life.  I am still recovering... I still can't believe it.  I can get very upset quickly... if I allow myself to think of him very long.  I have to be careful... it takes time to get back alright.

If you've never lost a child, you aren't going to understand... also, if you want to tell me he's in 'a better place'... I'll tell you, 'no, he's not'.  He wanted to live just like you do... unless you are one of those people who just can't 'wait to go to a better place'.  I say, 'more power to you'.  Simple as that..... I felt anger... can you tell?  I hope no one else says that to me ever again...

So, if you've never lost a child... I hope you'll understand you can't just go say things like that.  A lot of people who have lost children might begin screaming at you.  I can 'feel why'... I instantly hate you.  I don't forget you.  I won't yell at you... though, if I need to... I will softly tell you how I feel... and I'll smile a sweet little smile, so... you won't feel bad.  You might not want to look into my eyes... at hell's fire burning there.  Skip said he's never seen anyone's eyes do like mine when they become angry... this would be what he meant.

I'm a loving, caring person... don't make light of my son's death ... with your thoughtless sayings.  It shows you don't have anything else to say... don't say anything if it means nothing to you.  Say I care, if it does... and go on with your life.  I don't need your sayings, I have enough of my own... even if I get part of them backwards.

I have fought a battle with cancer... non-Hodgkins lymphoma.  How, why, what caused it... to this day I still don't know.  Chemicals, big electrical wires, pesticides... who knows?  It was a life-threatening battle that almost took my life.  I fought for three years to live... I lived, knowing 'I was going to die'.

The thoughts come through my mind, I wonder 'how' I came to have this type of cancer.  I wonder sometimes, if it was from the pesticides that ran down on our land, from the land 'above' ours... in the North Carolina mountains when I lived there for years.  We had spring water as our water source.  I was a young wife, mother at that time.  I wasn't aware of what chemicals could do, and such.

When I became very ill, I 'went down' fast.  In just a matter of weeks, I was dying... barely living the morning I had surgery. I could only whisper to Skip.  Tommy was in Germany... I wouldn't allow Skip to tell him.  I was afraid something could happen to him if he knew... he would have died, if necessary to get to his mama.

I lived in darkness... I 'lost myself' once again.  Skip was there... Skip was always there... Skip 'IS' my beacon in life.  He is like that lighthouse shining at nights to guide ships... I can say this... if Skip hadn't been there for me... I would have died.

I say that with all sincerity.  If Skip wasn't there, I wouldn't be here.  I had no family who cared about me.  If I had drank alcohol, took drugs, bitched... raised hell, got into all kinds of trouble... they would have loved me with their very hearts.  Being different created an 'invisible' wall.  I never could find the door in it... I really tried.  I tried so hard... I loved them with... my heart.  Isn't it amazing ... if only I could have been 'truly bad'... I'd been looked up to, idolized, loved... I'd been somebody.  Oh, just how come I couldn't have just been 'bad to the bone'?

It's a wonder I didn't turn out to be a really bad 'mama-jamma'... I walked on those paths... I do have quite a temper.  It wasn't in me.  I'm not a mean, bad person.  I would walk on those paths in life full of anger at the things life threw at me... I walked them in hate 'for the world'.  I never wanted to hurt anyone else for the pain inside me.

I never could find it inside myself to hurt anyone.  I was a 'square' in a round hole.  I couldn't walk the path... and 'talk the talk'... I just couldn't.  When I was angry... I thought I could.  I always had a conscience.

'Damn', I couldn't even drink alcohol... it would depress me... I couldn't take it.  I couldn't do drugs... I can't bear my mind to be 'messed up'... I have to be able to think clearly.  I did smoke cigarettes for a time, but... when I quit, I never did it again.

I always thought about things... being a 'thinker'... helped me to realize that I didn't want 'bad things' in my life...  I realized I did have the choice to go in the opposite direction... I did.  I read books all the time... I wrote all the time... I tried to better myself as a person... I learned all the time about life.  I just wanted to be 'me'... a good person.

When I say good person... I don't mean I'm perfect.  I hope you'll know that I'm not perfect at all.  I mean just be a good person in general... that people trust that I am.  I can get angry, lose my temper like the next person... I can say a cuss word, too.  I think everyone does that.  It's part of being human...

As soon as I do such, I'm sorry instantly.  I don't like being 'mean'... but, I am sometimes.  I have a lot of anger in me... I was born with anger in me... just like the 'hell born in me'.  I can raise hell with the best... but, it's not 'me'... I can't stand it.  But... I 'know' it, I 'know how'...... If 'I raise hell'... I have been provoked... probably for the 3rd time.

I began to learn that life wasn't as glamorous... as glittery, full of material things.  I had had it 'all'... but, was soon finding out... I couldn't 'be a good person' like I wanted to be... and live that life... too.  I ... couldn't have my cake, eat it... too.  You've got to be a good person for-real... you can't be a really good person, and a really bad person at the same time... you can't.

You 'can be bad enough'... if you need to be, though.  That's where people who try to take advantage of you think you are weak ... they underestimate what they find, instead.  I know... I've shocked a lot of people when they see I 'do have steel' in my backbone.  People misjudge a quiet, unassuming person who is nice...

I would let people get by 'with pushing me' two times, hoping they'd realize to not bother me.  Three... three, is my number with most things in life.  The third time is when... things happen.  'Those' people never liked me ever again... they saw 'the hell born in me'... come out.  I always tried to be nice when it happens... I don't like to hurt people... I always try ...to smile, too.  Even a puppy is going to come out of a corner, if he feels trapped.

People don't like you when you 'see' through them.  I'm sure many of you have opened your eyes, have seen things you didn't want to see... maybe went on to close your eyes back up... pretend you never saw.

Maybe you 'saw' someone for the person they really were.... 'there's just a split moment' where you make a decision... you 'let them see you 'see' them'... or 'close' your eyes, look away.  If you want to keep them as your friend... you'd better close your eyes, look away.  If you let them see that you 'see them the way they really are'... you are going to become the 'bad' person.  You are going to be the culprit... you are no good.  How are you going to prove you aren't?

People aren't what they always appear to be.  For example... as a young, naive girl I used to think the world of an older man who was father to my best friend.  What a kind, good grandfatherly-like man he was.  He had the bluest eyes, the most kind smile in the world that made me feel like everything was alright.

From the childhood I came from... that meant a lot to me.  To be treated in a kind way, spoken to in a kind voice.  I'll never forget the shock that man put me in... it was so surreal, I walked around for several days reeling from it all.

I was getting to spend the night with his daughter, my best friend.  We were all three sitting in the living room laughing, talking.  She got up to go to the bathroom... I was sitting on one end of the couch, he on the other end.

I was sitting there, relaxed.  I waited for her to come back, I felt shy being alone... I didn't know what to say to her dad when she wasn't around.  So, like a little dummy... I just sat there, looking down at the floor.

Strong, man-arms grabbed me, pulled me toward his chest.  He began trying to kiss me, his nasty lips touching mine!  I began to fight him... I didn't survive to that age 'for nothing'.  He saw a little fifteen year old girl, who had blossomed into a beautiful, young lady... who appeared fragile.  What he didn't see was... the hell that was in her, born in her.... burned in her.

I know I hurt that man when I began to fight to get out of his strong arms.  I hope I did hurt him bad... I never spoke to him after that.  In fact, if I ever saw him again... I don't remember it.  He made hell burn in me that day... he sparked those flames of pure fear, pure hell in me.  I hope I 'burned' him good.

Not only that... he made me cry.  I loved him, respected him... I never-ever knew 'he' would do that.  I was so innocent... and I believed he was a good man.  I didn't just cry... I cried like a little baby... it hurt my heart.  For a time, I even told myself 'somehow, it was my fault'... but, how... I didn't know.

Learning people aren't always what they seem to be.... so many times by that age, I had learned that I couldn't trust anyone... especially a man.

Hands... hands always sneaking out to ... touch me. The shocks I suffered... not knowing 'what in the world' when a hand appeared, trying to touch me....... imagine how a very little girl would feel.

She wouldn't know what was happening, especially seeing a smiling, kind face she already trusted... not understanding 'why the hands were doing what they did... and the smiling, kind face' looking down at her'... not knowing she was too young to know anything.

If someone stood watching, they would probably have seen the expression of puzzlement on a little girl's face... but, instead of waiting to see the expression... somebody's 'ass would have been beaten'.  If it were my child... I'm sure I'd turned into a 'for-real bad person'... the man probably wouldn't have lived.

I look back at these things sometimes... I don't hurt from them anymore... I think to myself... all those 'bad' things in my young life ... prepared me to be strong enough to 'find it in me' to even be here... today.

People aren't what they seem to be.  How many kind, sweet, wonderful faces have I seen in my life... only to see the masks come off... to see what was hiding under them?  When others came close... the kind, sweet, wonderful face...the mask went back on.

I knew I couldn't just walk over, pull the mask down for all to see... it wasn't like on Jerry Springer... where one could physically pull another woman's wig off to show her 'bad hair'.

You can't pull a kind, sweet, wonderful face off... if you did, people would condemn 'you' for being... so bad.  I never told anyone the things that happened to me... I learned my lesson the one time I told... I didn't tell again.

No, people aren't who they seem to be.  Sometimes, grandpas aren't grandpas... especially when they are step-grandpas.  I learned that as a very young child... when I learned 'my father' wasn't my father after all.  I went by his name... he never touched me in a 'bad' way... but, he did touch me in a bad way... he would hold me by my ankles, and beat me.  I never knew 'why'. I was just a little girl under the age of six.  Did he do it to... hurt my mother?  He beat her lots of times... she was beautiful... men loved her.

His daddy, my step-grandfather... lived there... his daddy did 'bad' things....... but, who ever knew?  I didn't know how to tell on him... in front of everyone, he was so sweet to me.  I'd forget, I didn't have words to tell... anyway.  But... I had memory.

I have a lot of memories before I grew old enough to know the words to.  It was like 'connecting the dots'... as I learned words, I knew the name for 'stuff'... it took longer to understand what the 'words for stuff' ... meant.  I had to be married, and older... to know.

I see 'why' people kill children when they do the things they do to them.  These must be the people who 'know about memory, memories'... they must have been aware that children will one day learn to put in words what was done to them.

Maybe that's why... some people do things... to children very, very small.  They don't think a little child would remember.  I have to say to this... when things are different in a little child's life to hurt, or to feel different... the child might not realize what happens to it.  But, it's when 'impressions' are made in a child's mind... that becomes a memory never forgotten.  Maybe ... I should have been murdered as a little girl... I remembered a lot, faces... but, I never told.

For instance, another example... when I was thirteen, fourteen... one of my mother's friends had a boyfriend.  She lived with him, so... I had seen him around, knew who he was.

I ran away from my Grandma Alma, and George's.  The hell, oh my God, the hell-raising got to me.  I wanted to run away... or just die.  I chose to run away... I got as far as Durham, NC.  I was afraid, I didn't know where to go.

A car stopped to pick me up... a familiar face!  It was the boyfriend of my mom's friend!  I got into the car, I was so glad to be near someone who 'was part of my life'.

Looking back now... I'm grateful it was 'him' who picked me up.  It could have... it could have been a lot of things... I might not be here, today.   The man 'did try' to touch me... I'll give him credit, he left me alone when he realized I didn't know, didn't want 'that'.  I never told on him... he never told he saw me.  I never saw him again... until I was a young woman in my late twenties.

Our eyes met when I walked into a restaurant where I was known.  Everyone was greeting me, I felt good... I looked beautiful, and I knew it.  Every woman knows when she looks good, her eyes will scan the room to see if men are noticing... you know it's true.  :))) I was no exception.

My eyes met a man's eyes... he was looking at me.  I stood for a moment... I placed him.  It was the man who picked me up when I was a runaway.  I didn't feel anything toward him... I smiled briefly, turned away... went on with my life.  We 'knew' who each other was.  I thought to myself... thank-God, he was the man who picked me up...

This morning I was thinking about things... how people fool one another.  It's a part of life... if we really knew, or really faced up to the truth of how some of our most respected, 'good' people really were... they'd be in prison, or forever shunned.  But... you know... we have to close our eyes... life is life... it is what it is... we can't always be truthful about what we see... know.  Keep your mouth shut.  You know... I'm right.

I was thinking of people who think they hide behind wealth, their worldly goods... feel protected.  They go to church every Wednesday night, every Sunday morning... every Sunday night.  They are perfect people... everyone trusts them.  Sometimes... little girls know more about a woman's husband... than she, herself... knows.

If you don't believe me... watch those young girls... the husbands.  If you open your eyes... there's another 'world' playing out in front of you.  It's all hidden in the word of the Bible, beautiful clothes, and people with good reputations... they are all good citizens of the community.  You ... know... I'm ... right.

You've probably 'been there, done that', too.  The more 'those christians smile'.. the more everything is going their way.  Do I sound cynical?  I am... I always look where no one else looks... I know there's another 'life playing out behind the scenes'.

It does seem our world is all about ... sex.  It is... sex, drugs, money.  Whether you like it... or I like it... that's the way it is.  I learned long ago, that's what rules this world we live in.

On the other hand... I, also, know there's a place for good people.  They just aren't noticed as much... they aren't always trying to be 'out front screaming look at me'!  They are just focusing on doing good things, being a good person.  They don't feel the need to brag, to have better than others, to be dressed best.  They've learned that the things we all seek in life are ... on the inside of each of us.

Think about it... if all of us loved, cared, gave from our very hearts... how do you think the whole world would be?  That's saying 'all of us', together ... loving, caring, giving to the other in all sincerity.

How in the world could 'hell be raised', then?  If we all focused on that, we wouldn't worry about 'opening our eyes' seeing something we don't want to see... Sadly, this is something we don't have to worry about... I don't see how the 'whole world' could ever be as 'one'....a caring, loving, giving world.

It's all about greed, comfort... self.  Ones self... one's creature comforts... sex, drugs, money to ensure they live in comfort, every need ...satisfied.  All the while... they appear to be 'good' people, good, solid citizens of the community, good neighbors.

Just remember... people aren't always 'who you' think they are?  They may be 'who you' hope them to be... you know I'm right.

'Kiddiddlehopper'...

 

'Kiddiddlehopper'... a childhood nightmare to me as a little girl... today... I just can't take it!  Especially the ones that are... flesh-colored... look like little fat men staring up at me... I know they are 'going to get me'!

 

 

 

 

'Kiddidlehopper'...

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

 

 

I saw a 'kiddiddlehopper' yesterday... it took my breath away
It saw me, jumped at me... I took its breath ... away

I just can't take a kiddiddlehopper, not at all
I'm sorry it had to go... I was in a battle... I had.. to.. win

It shouldn't have jumped ... oh my God, that little fat belly!
A nightmare from childhood.. jumping at me in present day!

Goodbye little kiddiddlehopper... I'm sorry... there's only enough room
For 'one sheriff in this town'!

Now.. I grieve for you ... did I do wrong?
I killed a kiddiddlehopper... and I feel bad about it

I left it lying on the ground... I walked away
With my battle-torn body; I'm sheriff of this town! :)))

I Tucked You In... Precious Camie

I Tucked You In... Precious Camie
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

She watched around her as she was led out of the door... through the chain-link gate.  She turned to look back... she didn't want to leave.  No!  She wanted to stay home... she loved her home, and her family.

The door opened on the pickup truck... she was helped in.   Gentle hands touched, patted her head.  She sensed that no one wanted her to go anymore, than she wanted to go.

The door opened to the pickup truck... she got out.  By now, she knew the drill... she began to walk slowly up the brick drive, onto the slanted boardwalk.  They got to the wooden door... stood for several minutes talking while she waited.

They went through the door where they were greeted with cheerful voices.  She ran toward them... she recognized them!  She loved the people behind the voices.

Come on, Camie... let's weigh you.  The nurse walked her onto the scale... Camie had lost 1 pound.

It was time for her to be left... she would have surgery sometime that morning.  Camie was going to be spayed... have her skin scrapings, bloodwork done.

We began to turn, walk out to the pickup truck.  Camie stopped, ran toward me.  My heart melted... I bent down to kiss her, tell her I'd be back to get her.  I turned, walked out the door... with tears in my eyes.

I loved Camie so much... I sneaked a peek at Skip... I saw what looked like tears... in his eyes.  He, as well as I, love our Pups... we want them home... we want all to be all right.

I waited for the phone call to come.  I expected it around lunch-time... I couldn't wait to know how Camie did.  I was on pins and needles.  I got the call... Camie came through like a champ.  I was so happy.  Now, it was time to wait until the evening to go pick her up.

I drove to the Louisburg Veterinary Clinic to pick Camie up... she was due to be picked up at 4:30 pm.  I was much earlier... I was ready to get her.  I wouldn't rest until I had her home!

I went in, talked with Dr. Fontenot, and his staff... Morgan and Pam.  I stood there, absorbing all I needed to know to give Camie all her medicines.  She had pain medicine; antibiotics, and she had Heartgard... and Certifect.  They were for heartworms, and for ticks, fleas.

Pam made Camie's appointment to come back in 2 weeks.  I won't bathe her until after her appointment.  Every week, I give Camie her very own 'Camie Spa'... where I bathe her with her medicinal shampoo.  After the shampoo, I gently massage... dry her.  So, no more until after the next appointment.

Dr. Fontenot went over Camie's bloodwork report.  Camie's been bitten by a brown tick... her blood tested positive for Ehrlichia canis.  We'll be talking about that soon.

Camie's skin still hasn't healed completely.  I worry ... of course, I would.  I want her to be past all this, completely healed... no more medical problems.  I'm a little worried also, about her testing positive for Ehrlichia canis.  I want her to be well like our other two Pups, Kissy and Chadwick.  My mission is to make it happen.

I look to my left... there she lays.  I gave her pain medicine, it made her drowsy.  She got up on the couch, put her head on a pillow, went to sleep.  I got up, took her blanket... placed it over her to keep her comfortable, snuggly, warm.

I tucked you in... Precious Camie.

Maybe It's The Hell I Saw Raised...

Maybe It's The Hell I Saw Raised...
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

My beautiful mother as a young woman... it was always said she was the most beautiful woman around.  She always looked like Elizabeth Taylor.  I always wanted to grow up to be as beautiful as her............................



We've been sitting here watching Medea movies... and I'm going to have to tell you... I have laughed so much.

Do you know my favorite parts?  It's when someone tells Madea she can't make them do something... or is awful to her.  I love it, when out of the blue... she 'shows them a thing or two'!

For instance, she put her foster daughter on the school bus, told the kids on the bus that they'd better leave her alone.  One defiant boy said, 'what you going to do about it, old lady'?  She whipped up on his head in a split second.  She gave him what he needed.  I loved it!

I love to see a bully get some of their medicine back.  I believe in an eye for an eye... if you hurt somebody... then, you need to feel it back.  What do you think?  Would people 'dish it out'...if they knew what they dished out... was most definitely coming back to them?

Maybe it's the hell I saw raised as a child, when people were treated unfairly because they weren't strong enough to fight for themselves.  Maybe it's that I don't like bullies, don't like people who try to be the boss... because they know how to intimidate, they are stronger.

Whatever it is... I 'pure love it' when a bully 'gets it'.  I love it when mean people who mistreat others... 'get it'.   I can't bear for people or animals to be mistreated, harmed.  It hurts my heart... I can't stand to know they've been hurt, maimed... killed.

But... when a person is the one who does wrong to injure others... and they are caught up... where they get what they deserve... I feel happy inside.  Isn't that awful?  I 'pure love' it.  I am wanting to put my 'two cents' in... I'd love to give them 'what for'... also.  I want them to ... hurt.  I want to see it... hear it.

How awful is that?  I learned this as a little girl as I watched the hell-raising... the fights.  Flesh pounding flesh, screams, thumps, bangs of someone's head hitting furniture, the floor.  Bodies falling all over the place.  Sometimes, I would see teeth laying on the floor... bloody teeth.  I couldn't breathe for the fear that coursed through my little body... especially...

Blood... oh my God, I would see blood running out of wounds... blood on the floor.  I wanted the weaker one to beat the person who did that to them... back.  Beat them good.  Sometimes, this little girl would run to help... what can a little child do?

I'd get slapped down... because sometimes, that was my mama who 'was beaten down to the floor' to lay in blood.  I wanted to ... kill somebody for hurting my mama.  I hated them.

Getting back to the Medea movies... and seeing her just 'jerk up somebody' when they deserved it... you can see why I loved it.  Sometimes, we need people who can be 'mean enough' to protect others... who will act, ask questions later.  Who will 'put the fear of God' in someone who dares to hurt another person, animal.

Oh... this is another example of 'acting'... when bad things happen in a home such as I lived in as a child... no one knew.  Why, even a child has to learn how to go 'out in public'... pretend nothing's wrong... all the while the other kids make their child's life 'pure hell'.  Hell at home; hell at school... never no peace for a little girl.

Some little girls never forget that. Some little girls just smiled sweetly when people would say.... 'you have the nicest family'!  This little girl would say softly, 'thank-you'.  

You Had Better Act Like Somebody...

You Had Better Act Like Somebody...
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

Going out into the world daily, I see some of the nicest people in the world.  I know there's not a mean bone in their body.  I see such warm smiles, kind words... actions even nicer than their smiles, words.  They'd never hurt a 'flea'.  Everyone 'acts so nice'!

There's no way possible... they are ever mean, ugly... real.  They are like that... all the time.  Those good, sweet, kind, perfect... wonderful people.  I wish I could be ... like that.  I am just... me.  I can be so nice... sometimes, I'm not feeling like being nice.  Darn it... it's hard to be something... I'm not.

That's 'why' I'm the first person to tell you ... I'm not perfect... I'm just not perfect at all.  The only thing I have going for me is... I really try to be a good person... the best person I can possibly be... all the while making mistakes, learning to the day that I ... die.

Doors are opened for others... 'let me get that for you'.  Why just yesterday... Skip ran into a situation that... wasn't acting.  The man was ... really 'himself'... without a mask.

Skip was at a store, getting ready to walk outside.  A guy in front of him walked out the door, as Skip began through the door... the door slammed on him, knocking his drink out of his hand.

The man in front of him ...never bothered to hold the door out of courtesy... for just a second until... Skip could also, make his exit.  Skip made a sound... the man turned around, told Skip he was in a hurry, went on about his life.

The man never acted like he was a nice guy... he was really what he was... he didn't pretend.  He didn't care if anyone saw him for the real person he was.  He was a ... turd.  Yes, he was a... turd.  Shame on him.

Most people are like this... but, in public we try to hide it... we try to project ourselves as the 'nicest person in the world'.  That man must have given up ... pretending.  Even if we don't feel nice... we should pretend we are.  I'm not saying to the extent... someone would take advantage of us.

I'm glad I wasn't there... I would have smiled at him, softly told him what he was.  I would have been nice about it.  Guess what?  I would have my 'sweet, nice mask' on.  I would be acting... nice, when in fact... I would be just before being... ugly.

I can say this too, in all honesty.  That man didn't know he could have gotten his ass kicked... all he saw was an older man coming behind him.  He probably intended for that door to hit Skip.  Skip could have reminded him of something he didn't like in his own life.  Maybe his 'old daddy'... or old grandfather he hated.  Maybe ...he hated his 'old ass' ...self.

I think people make a mistake when they 'see older people, assume they are 'weak'.  I think they make a mistake... when they make this mistake.  Knowledge, experience 'got that older person this far'......

Haven't you heard on the news how criminals sometimes, meet more than their match when they rob 'an old grandma'... go to beat up 'an old man'.  They get their ass kicked... and some more.  I love it.

My advice is... you never know what you're going up against... someone might be 'old'... but, it's knowledge, experience that counts.  You might get more than you bargain for.

Some 'old' people know how to fight back... you don't know what you're messing with.  Some of these 'old codgers' might know martial arts; they might be veterans... who fought for your 'little boy or little girl ass' when you were a child ... for your freedom.

Then... some of you grew up to 'rob them, murder them'... after they fought for the world you live in.  Yeah... they fought for 'your freedom'... just so you could murder, rob, or humiliate 'them' one day when they are 'old'.  Shameful...  You 'act like' you care, love, respect them... all the while... waiting for them to become weak.

Sometimes, it gets into some younger people's minds... 'older people don't need what they have anymore... they are old; they could die any day'.  I need it... I can do a lot with their things to make my life better.

They begin to plot, to plan, to slowly 'take'... by 'acting' like they're somebody.  It could be a lover, girlfriend, boyfriend, best friend, daughter, son, grandchild... a 'loving one'.  It's easier to take what you want... if you ...act like somebody.

Strange enough... others can 'see' it.  The person who is 'old' doesn't see it... they just want to be loved, cared about.  They want to believe in someone who is 'acting like somebody' they know... loves them.

I think you, like me... love it when an 'old' person gives somebody 'bad'... what for.  I love it when an 'old' person's eyes 'open'... and they begin to see through others... see that the people who 'acted like they loved them'... are deceitful, dishonest.

Especially when in life they... 'use their position in life'... to deceive to take from an older person.  This could be a pastor, a fireman, cop, christian... whoever.  I love it... when 'their acting' can be ... seen through; they are no longer trusted; no longer 'well-thought' of.

I love it when an old person kicks somebody's ass... when they come up to physically assault, rob, murder them.  I love it when I see evidence of 'their ass getting kicked'.  I love it when 'they get it good'...

Acting... it seems that 'acting' is what makes the world go 'round.  If we act like somebody... we gain in life.  Just depends on what, who you act like to gain trust, material things.  We've all been guilty in one way or other.

We've all acted to be 'somebody, something in this life in order to be accepted'... pretending the whole way.  That's 'how doors are opened' to us.  How many 'real people' do you ...know?  Sometimes... we hate the people 'who know us as we really are'...........

So, think about what I wrote above... acting to deceive a person into thinking someone loves them... when there's no love there... only ...greed.  I know a lot of people like this... I recognize them if I don't know them.  Don't you?  I know you do.

I think this is one of the most awful things we can do... unless the one who 'acts'... acts it all out in a 'good' way, never hurting, harming another.  How many times does that happen?

How many times a day do you smile, be so honey-sweet to people when you would like to tell them what you really think?  You have to if you are going to be out in the world... you are... going to have to act.  You are going to ... have to pretend you are something... you really aren't.  Do you know why?

Because, you'll be shunned... people will go in an opposite direction when they see you coming... if you don't 'act right'.  Watch people's expressions when they 'see you'... if you sense they're thinking 'oh no! it's you... again'!  You are probably sensing ...right.

Even I have sensed that through time.  I don't think there's a person who hasn't sensed that.  No one likes 'you'... all the time... no matter how pretty, sweet, 'good'... you are.  Sometimes, I like 'mean' people... sometimes, I like 'ugly' people.  Sometimes, I hate 'everyone'... no matter 'how they act'.  We all are like that.

I smile inside because when I see people I know... out in the world 'acting'.  Why?  Because, you hear people say, 'isn't that the nicest person'?  I'm knowing probably that's the 'meanest man, woman that ever walked in two shoes'.

What's funnier... really isn't fun-ny... is when people say that about people we all hold in high esteem... and 'we know better'.

I can look back through time... and remember 'people who were the best christians, and even a pastor'... who chased a little girl I know personally... to do things... 'ungodly'.

I am sure all of you can look back, remember such things in your own life.  Just because you say 'someone is a cop, pastor, doctor, lawyer, fireman... so on, so on'... doesn't mean they are all 'good'.  We all have to 'act a part' when we go out into the world.  If not... you'll be shunned.

There's always a 'bad apple' in ... everything.  Always remember that... open your eyes... and you'll spot it no matter how 'pretty, shiny, spotless' it is. The better it looks... the better it hides to deceive others.  Think about a serial killer... that's how they do to get their victims... they appear 'perfect' to everyone.

Nothing is perfect... I know... at one time in my life... I really tried to be; I couldn't.  Keep an eye out for bad apples... they're rotten to the core... don't believe me?  Just bite into it.....

So, if you get up feeling bad, feeling as if you 'hate the world'... you had better think twice.  In our world ... you'd better 'act like somebody'... whether you like it ... or not.  Act 'like somebody... even if ... you aren't'.

I suggest acting like a good person... even if you aren't.  You might fool yourself into believing you're a good person... before you know it... you might be one.  Acting, believing is how we develop habits... now, all I got to do is to 'act thin'... that's the habit I have forgotten.  :)))

I'm going to try my best to act like somebody... myself.  Hopefully, I can ... act in a good way, be real.  I don't like to fool people.  So, I'm going to act like somebody... Gloria.