Twenty-one

My wife and I met during a during a community theatre production of “One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest.” I was directing this production and as a favor to a friend, she was helping to stage manage. I played the role of R. P. McMurphy a few years earlier.

I didn’t like her much when we first met. Truth is, she didn’t like me much either. She was a nice young lady and I was, well, I was something of “bad boy”, to use someone else’s words. I thought she spent too much time at church and she thought I spent too much time at parties. She was a bit too prim and proper for my taste and I was unkept with long hair and having too many holes in my jeans. We were both right. 

Still, it was a necessary first introduction and we somehow managed to tolerate our differences during the two months we worked together. I am certain she was happy to be on her way following the closing night cast party.

A few years pass before our paths would cross again. 

In December 1990, my grandmother was in town and wanted to go to church. For whatever reasons I was the only member of the family who could take her. As it turned out, we went to the church where Gerrie attended. 

That morning something happened. The pastor said something during his sermon that caught my attention. So much so that I wanted to go back that evening. Something else happened too; Gerrie came up to me following the service and said, “Hello, you may not remember me, but we worked on ‘Cuckoos Nest’ together.” I did remember her. “Hey, are you. Good to see you.” And that was it.

I count God’s ability to put us in the right place, at the right time and with the right mind set, as one His miracles! One that we don’t always understand or give Him credit for. But that Sunday morning was one of those miracles. Setting in a pew beside my grandmother and still feeling the effects of the night before, I was able to listen and hear what was being shared. It caused me to want more. It started a healing in my life. 

But back to this lady.

I went back to church that Sunday evening and then the next Sunday morning and evening and the next and the next and so on. My life was slowly turning in a new, and much better direction. In time, she said something to the Minister of Music and one morning he walks up to me and says, “I here you can sing.” So, I joined the choir. A few weeks later she says something to someone else who walks up to me and says, “We sure would like for you to visit our Sunday School class; we think you’d enjoy it.” So, I joined the class.

February 1991 arrives and the class is planning a weekend getaway in Gatlinburg. I didn’t want to go since I really didn’t know that many people. But I did find out that Gerrie was going. I knew her. So, I signed up. There were so many things to do that weekend and none of them interested me, except maybe going down into town and walking up and down the streets. Same for Gerrie. She didn’t want to go hiking or whatever. Walking up and down the streets sounded good to her too. So, off we go.

At a small table in a little Chinese restaurant, we shared a bowl of soup, a few egg rolls and a pot of tea. And another miracle occurred. We became buddies!

A little more than five months later, I sort of proposed. I say “sort of” because I really didn’t get down on one knee or make any grand preparations to sweep her off her feet. Heck, we weren’t even in the same room, the same house or same part of town. We were talking on the phone and came to the realization that our lives would be incomplete without each other.

Three weeks later, we were married! That was twenty-one years ago.

Later on we honeymooned in Paris.

Every now and then we’ll take a few days and spend time in Gatlinburg. It is still nice to walk up and down the streets, look in the shop windows, watch people and take in the sights. While we’re there we always try to visit to the North China Chinese Restaurant where we’ll share a pot of tea.

Looking back over these years I will sometimes look at Gerrie, thinking she is still a bit too prim and proper. But now, I realize that this is Gerrie being the better of part of us. There are times when she looks at me and sees an unkept man with too many holes in his jeans. But now she considers that as my being adventurous. Whatever it is, who we were, who are are and who we are becoming, I know that it took Gerrie in my life for me to be complete. 

There. Another miracle!

Baseball and Happiness

Being born in southeast Missouri and spending time there comes with a price. You grow up understanding that about the best burger in memory comes from Kirby’s. In time you discover that you can get just as full on the hen cut of the Chicken Fried Round Steak at Lambert’s as you can on the rooster cut. And, perhaps most importantly, you grow up following St. Louis Cardinal baseball. 

My grandfather was the standard bearer for Cardinal baseball in our family. I can remember many afternoons, him sitting in his chair in the living room. He had his pipe full of Prince Albert in one hand and a transistor radio tuned to KMOX-AM pressed to his ear, by the other. This is if the game was an away game. If it was a home game, he’d have the television on with the sound turned down. A wonderful memory.

When my father first went to work for the Sikeston Daily Standard, he thought he was going to be an ad man. That changed his first day on the job. The Willie Mays All-Stars came to town and he was sent out to interview Willie Mays and Hank Aaron. Not a bad first day on the job.

I played little league ball up until the 5th grade. Somehow, moving to Nashville ended my career. Not that I was that good. I wasn’t. But I loved playing the game. Second base was my position and in the course of my short stint in the game, I had three moments that stood out as being something special. The first time I ever had the wind knocked out of me was when a big kid ran over me on his way from first to second. Literally, mowed me down. Then, one evening in Shelbyville, Tennessee, I scored the winning run. That was a night to remember. Oh, and once in Palm Springs, Florida, I had my photograph taken with Joe Torre. He was catcher for the Atlanta Braves in those days. 

A fabled career.

When I look back on baseball in my life I am reminded that life was simple then. It was less complex with less to be concerned with or to worry over. The rules were easier to understand and follow. In baseball, you knew to always check the runner before throwing the ball. Always, or at least whenever possible, get the lead runner out on a force out. You knew to tag up before trying to advance on a fielded fly ball. And if there are two outs and you’re on base, you always, always run on anything. Simple. 

And life, to me at least, seemed that simple.

It’s hard not to be happy when you are at a ballpark. Summer seems less hot in the bleachers. Sure, the home team may lose the game, but just being there, in the park, with a bag of peanuts and soft drink; that has to count for something. It is the experience. It’s being there that makes us happy even if the outcome doesn’t.

The world has become a place where happiness is sometimes elusive. But we search for it. There are times when we put a price tag on it saying, “if only I had this, I’d be happy.” I know that I have done this and I know that I have missed the mark on many occasions. I have a house full of things but still have moments, days and weeks when I can’t put my hands on happiness.

When these times come I think back to when I knew that I was truly happy. There are many. But looking deeper, I see that those times are marked by how simple they were. Some of the happiest times of my life were spent not having a whole lot of money or a whole lot of things. We lived where hundreds of channels of distraction where not available to us. So we found our happiness, our peace and contentment in each other’s company or in the company of friends. A good book to read with great music playing softly in the background hold memories of shear joy.

We didn’t have a lot, but what we did have made us happy.

Yesterday morning, I was sitting behind home plate at my youngest grandson’s baseball game. I haven’t been great at making it out to his games or my other grandchildren’s games. I admit. But I am finding that going to these games is something I should do more frequently. I think I can learn a lot from watching a 5 year old play baseball. 

At five it is all about the love of the game. Joy comes from pulling on a jersey and picking up a glove. It is having your own particular style walking up to the plate and settling into the batters box. Picking off the lead runner is optional in this game and if want to hold the ball until the runner is two feet from the base before throwing, that is okay too. Playing hard is rewarded with a tall Gator Aid, and sometimes, the game ball. 

There will be time for rules. Time for more than five pitches. Learning the strategies and nuances of the game will come. But for now, it is the love. It is the happiness.

Perhaps this can be applied in a grown-ups life. Is it possible to rediscover that in the grand scheme of things, what matters isn’t how much money you make or what all that money can buy? What should matter is what you do with what you have. My five year old grandson can not tell you what the infield fly rule is, but he can show you how to flash a big smile, run out to centerfield to wait for the fly ball that will never come, and have the time of his life.

Yes, I think I can learn a lot from watching a five year old play baseball. 

“People are just as happy as they make up their minds to be.”

~ Abraham Lincoln (1809-1865)

~ Greg

Photo credits:  Joe Torre and Greg Grimley was taken by Weldon Grimsley. Jackson Grimsley getting a hit was taken by Jennifer Wade Grimsley.

Putting It Together: Part II

“Memory is the diary we all carry about with us”

                                        ~ Oscar Wilde

I have enjoyed three days at home this weekend. It has been three days to continue tearing things apart so that I can put them together. At this moment, I am tired, but tired with a sense of fulfillment having made another weeks progress towards some larger goals. I can see in my mind the work space for larger projects in the garage and how a closet in my office will be converted for smaller drawing projects. The excitement drives me forward.

Still, there are those things that slow me down.

Having had a full life thus far and having traveled and lived abroad for some years has given my wife and I, a great many things to sort through. As I look through our home there are some items that have no question attached to it; I know exactly where it came from and the memory associated with it. Yet, there are things that I pick up and wonder why. Why did I keep something for all these years?

Of course I know the answer. I kept something tucked in a box because it meant something at the time I placed it there. When I open up an envelope, unfold a newspaper or look at a magazine, I am looking at the journey of my life. And I find, for the most part, that it has been a marvelous journey. These treasures tell me so.

Though, in our efforts to organize, to downsize, to simplify, we must make decisions. Some times we must let the physical evidence of a memory pass from our hands. Some times it passes to someone else, as we donate parts of our lives to others. But there are times when the age of something dictates its passage to the recycle bin. This happened yesterday with one particular item. 

I unrolled a large piece of paper to rediscover a poster that hung in my room as a teenager. It was a prose poem written in 1927 by Max Ehrmann. The title is Desiderata. The word “desiderata” is Latin meaning “desired things.” If I recall correctly, it came to my attention while listening to the radio. I remember the lines “You are child of the Universe... you have right to be here.” Those words made an impression with me. I am not sure how the poster came to me. It may have been a gift from my mom and dad, or I may have picked it up in some shop. Either way, it hung on a wall in my room and became part of my rites of passage.

I am so much older now, and though the words of the poem slipped from my memory years ago, I look at them now and their meaning rushed back to me. In some ways I am not much different now than I was then. I read the words again, thinking, I have done well trying to live by the thoughts written there. 

My faith has also helped me along that path. The words of Micah 6:8 have served as a guide for me on how to live.

     "He has showed you, O man, what is good.

     And what does the Lord require of you?

     To act justly and to love mercy

     and to walk humbly with your God."

When I think on the world and what it has become in these intervening years, I look at these words afresh. I hold to the thoughts expressed in this scripture and I think on those “desired things." I know that for whatever time I have, I will spend it trying to live my life by these words.

For you few that read these thoughts I write, please, strive to be happy!

~ Greg

____________________

Desiderata

"Go placidly amidst the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story.

  “Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

“Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

“Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism.

“Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.

“Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

“Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.

“And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labours and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul. With all its shams, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful.

“Strive to be happy.”

  ~ Max Ehrmann (1872-1945)

            Public Domain

Putting It Together: Part I

Throughout this week I wondered what I’d write about. I thought I might explore music a bit more; defining more of the music that makes up the soundtrack of my life. Then I thought perhaps I’d write about my passion for Disney; the films, the parks, the music, etc. But, I decided against those for today. I’ll get to them, but not just now. Instead, let’s look at something less interesting but necessary.

____________________

“White. A blank page or canvas.

The challenge:  bring order to the whole.”

                                        ~ George Seurat

                                        from Sunday in the Park with George

“Let’s start at the very beginning

A very good place to start.

When you read you begin with A-B-C,

When you sing you begin with do-re-mi.”

                                        ~ Maria

                                        from The Sound of Music

“It’s the job that’s never started as takes longest to finish.”

                                        ~ J.R.R. Tolkien

                                        from The Fellowship of the Ring

All quotes about beginning something.

In June, in an article titled, Considering Art, I wrote, “next weekend I begin to clean and organize the garage.” My, but it took a long while for that “next weekend” to arrive. Unusually high temperatures and an extremely busy work schedule prevented that beginning from, well, beginning.

Now, I can say, it has started.

Yesterday my wife and I spent a part of our morning (the part that isn’t over 90 degrees) working in the garage. We sorted through some things and loaded up the bed of truck with a sizable donation to Goodwill. Not being a fan of waiting for the next community yard sale and realizing that I made less money than I thought I would, this donation will be the first of many. 

It is difficult to find the profound thought or that slice of sentimentality in cleaning a garage. I am not really trying to. But there is a sense of accomplishment that comes from it. Our sorting through things is a step in simplifying our lives. It is small first step towards a bigger goal. We spent time looking at things and understanding that we have moved beyond it. There were several things that once held value but somehow lost some of the value over time. Not they are not important to our memory, but not so important that we need to hold onto it. I know a time will come when we’ll ask, “didn’t we used to have such and such?” We’ll look at each other, wondering if it is stuck in some box. We may even go rummage through a few a boxes only to discover that it is gone. Then we’ll move on.

Sorting through things also moves me closer to a goal. We have decided that over time we will replace a lot of the art that is in our home with things that we create. Having the garage sorted and organized draws us nearer to that goal. There is too much that I wish to do and having so much space that was unusable kept some things from beginning.

A few more evenings or Saturday mornings loading up the truck and the space can be used as a studio. There I can dust off the tools. There I can paint. There I can either begin projects that I have only thought of and complete things that were started some years ago. There I can experiment - perhaps start playing in mixed media artforms. There I can have fun. Then, if I am lucky, out there I may happen upon something that we’d like to have displayed inside the house. 

So, the space is not yet the blank canvas that Monsieur Seurat spoke of. Perhaps it never will be. But it is the beginning a space where I hope imagination can take wing and a desire to create something may be fulfilled. 

~ Greg