THERE ARE 3 SIDES TO EVERY STORY

By Vernalee

Nothing beats the wisdom of Mothers. Allow me to share a story whose lessons stay with me 50 years hence. In the late 1960’s while traveling to school, some of us came up with the crazy notion that we would make the bus driver so nervous that she would run off the road. Wow! If successful, we might be off a day from school. We had a hike of over 50 miles to pick up students from varying parts before arriving to Riverside High School.  To accomplish our goal, we started loudly yelling and subsequently, she swirled off the road.

Mission accomplished!

Of course, our young minds did not factor into account the danger of the situation. It bears to reason that - (“Foolishness is bound up in the heart of a child; The rod of correction will drive it far from him.” - Proverbs 22:15).

Much to our chagrin, the bus was repaired overnight. The next day, the driver refused to pick us up. “The Collins kids cannot get on my bus!” Though I was the ringleader, I didn’t open my mouth.  However, my "stand up for his children" Daddy was outraged.

“Nobody is gonna insult my kids! Here. (Reaching my brother the car keys). Drive my car to school.” Off to school we went; the joyride was leisurely fun!

All was well until my mother, Miss Phoebe came home that afternoon.

With a stern piercing look that scared me out of my wits, she called me.

“Your Daddy told me what happened, but I know that you were involved if it had anything to do with you running your mouth! Now, what’s your story? And you betta not lie to me!”

Before I could open my mouth, she said, “There are 3 sides to every story. “What you say, what she said, and the truth!”

As I looked down to the ground, my mother in a robust tone said, “Just tell the truth. It’ll take you farther and spare the rod.”

Shamefully, I told her what I did!

“I’ll fix you. You’ll know betta than to act a fool the next time,” my late Momma said with a roaring penetrating sound. I thought that I was off the hook.

She tricked me, but what could I do or say!

I didn’t get spanked, I received something far worse!

My punishment was -

I couldn’t talk on the phone for a month. It seemed like an eternity.

Afterwards, I never opened my mouth on the bus rides again!

Her rod of correction was taking away something that I loved.

It was a lesson learned the hard way with an indelible imprint that stayed with me ... even to this day!

Photo credit: www.pininterest.com

A HOUSE IS NOT A HOME

By Vernalee

Song writers Burt Bacharach and Hal Davis in 1964 penned, “A House is not a Home” that became a signature song for Dionne Warwick. Symbolically, the words came to life last week as I toured a home that I shared with my family, but vacated over 30 years ago. As I walked through the completely gutted colonial, the rooms seemed much smaller than I remembered, but the memories were “bigger than life!” Instead of seeing walls, my mind instantly did a flashback to the scenes of my then life. In the living room, my eyes were drawn to the fireplace. My memory captured a tiny squirrel that ran down the chimney while my husband was away on a business trip. My young son transformed into a superhero to annihilate the creature while protecting his frightened little sister and terrified Mother! What a man child! That was the same chimney that my little daughter (who sucked her bottle way too long) stuck her baby bottle into the crevices without remembrance as she cried all night while we searched all night ram-shacking the house looking for it! (For inquiring minds, that incident occurred long before the convenience of 24 hour stores)!

Walking upstairs, my eyes visualized my son’s chalkboard toy chest which was filled to the rim with every Star Wars battleship and action figures …which coincidentally I knew all of the characters by name! It is an absolute must, that he sees the recently released Star Wars movie!

Entering the next room, my mind captured the moment that the baby bed collapsed. My now trimmed daughter fell through the crib, because she incessantly drank Similac baby formula spiked with her favorite Gerber’s Apple cereal as if the “milk was going out of style!” Calorie conscious she was not!

The huge wooden model airplane’s historic voyage from the attic (that was more his Daddy’s toy than my son’s) imaginatively zoomed over my head as I stepped on one of those tiny Hot Wheels that were everywhere as they inconspicuously laced the floor! Next my eyes spotted the place where the makeshift wire hanger that was transformed into a basketball hoop once hung. I could visualize my adolescent son‘s face as he worked up a sweat shooting two pointers because he wanted “to be just like Mike” (Michael Jordan, that it)! Adding to my imaginative vision, my daughter’s favorite doll, Chatty Patty with the little pink bottle was sitting on the floor. “Pick up your toys,” were my favorite four words then!

Ironically, I had a son who was fascinated with striking matches and oppositely a daughter who loved running water until it spilled out of the sink. Thus, the spankings occurred more than once. Spare the rod and you’ll spoil the child!

Let me not forget, the backyard looked fantastic as it showcased a new aluminum sided garage! Attempting to put my black Grand Prix in our garage, my son who was not nearly old enough to turn the steering wheel drove that car straight through the garage's back wall! OMG! That same garage stored his bright yellow three wheeler that his Daddy bought way too early and that my son took his joyfully grinning teeny weenie sister for an unauthorized ride to my friend’s house who lived several miles away! Frightened they were not; excited they both were; Livid was I!

My mind ran wild with many, many fond memories as I realized that our former house was just a brick and mortar structure, but the walls contained life and vivid/unforgettable memories; memories that will fondly live in my heart and mind forever and a day! Reflecting back to the song's lyrics, our "house was indeed a home" because it was filled with our collective and everlasting love ... and we are ”still in love“ with each together! Photo credit: www.cmhpf.org

RUNNING ON EMPTY

By Vernalee

For the first time in over fifty years, I ran out of gas! Yes, you read it correctly! When it occurred, embarrassed was not even the word! I was beyond embarrassed!

“How did it happen?” you might ask. Simply and honestly, I deviated from my habitual routine. When traveling from Columbus to Cleveland, without fail, I always stop at the same gas station for fuel replenishment on Interstate 71. I have done so for years!

On this particular trip, as I was driving a rental car and was totally engaged in a “juicy” conversation on my cell phone, I did notice the flashing fuel warning light, but because the conversation was so engaging, I passed my usual stop and decided to go to the next exit for fuel. Unfortunately, not being completely familiar with the rental car, my continued travel was a huge mistake! When the car suddenly started hesitating, I knew that I was in trouble! Still on the phone, I immediately stopped talking as I coasted the car to the emergency lane.

“Unbelievable,” was my initial thought!

Although I can reasonably explain just about anything by providing logical explanations and excuses … this would be a stretch!

This incident took me back to the late 1960’s. When I was a teenager, my parents gave us kids a gas guzzler 1963 Pontiac. We were thrilled to have our own wheels! Identical to the pictured green vehicle, I loved that “boat of a car!” We could place a number of passengers inside for our joy rides, and we did! Though my entrepreneur Daddy owned a service station, we were always running out of gas!

That doesn’t make sense! Does it?

How can you logically explain that!

Why? How?

I’ll gladly tell you!

We could not get free gasoline for our pleasure rides; we had to earn our keep and pay for fuel.

“What a shame! How uncivilized of our parents,” was my then thought that I wouldn't dare mention to my Daddy and Momma! I could think it, but I knew better than to say it!

Money was hard to come by for me in those days so I quite frequently pushed that Pontiac to the limits (much to the displeasure of my Daddy) always hoping that I could make it to the next stop! At the time, paying 30 cents for a gallon of gas was a lot of cash! I didn’t have that type of money!

Life has a funny way of teaching us lessons. Fast forwarding, when I became a Mother, I would lambaste my then teenage children for riding around with their gasoline needle on near empty. “When you run out of gas, don’t call me because I’m not coming to rescue you,” came out of my mouth every week!

Never in a million years would I have thought that I would be so careless or preoccupied to do the same thing!

I still can’t understand why my now adult children will not always fill up their gas tanks, but that’s none of my business; right? Time does bring about a change of viewpoints.

As for me and my recent mishap - running out of fuel, I can only say that mistakes can happen to the best of us! That‘s my story and I am sticking to it!