Wordless Wednesday—Daddy


William Everett Cumbie


February 1st 1920-June 10th 1994

I miss you, Daddy.

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Happy Father’s Day to all you Daddy’s out there.

Leave a comment, and you will magically be linked on the post (with “Google Juice”).
Then, you can click this link to visit other Wordless Wednesday participants. I look forward to visiting you. Have a great Wordless Wednesday.

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blogblowsmydress_sidebar.jpgDon’t forget to enter your funny post in This Eclectic Life’s This Blog Blows My Dress Up Contest! The deadline is fast approaching. There are several good entries, but I hope you share one, too. I still notice in my stats that people are reading the posts from the last contest.
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Link Love–Stories Beget Stories

Often when I perform a story before an audience, the tale I tell brings memories to people of their own stories. One of the thrills of my job is when audience members approach me after the performance to tell me a tale. For me, this is a high honor, because I know that I have touched these people on some level.

Today, two of my blogging friends touched me with posts. They made me laugh, and caused me to think. They reminded me of stories of my own. I’d love for you to see their work, and because this is my house, I get share the memories they triggered.

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I was searching through some of the entries to Darren Rowse’s Group Writing contest at Pro Blogger, and stumbled on a post written by Sognatrice at Bleeding Espresso. I decided I wanted to see what she had to say, since she had entered the This Blog Blows My Dress Up Contest, and I find her quite funny. I wasn’t disappointed.

Sognatrice is an ex-pat living in Calabria, Italy, and she talks about life over there. She listed The top 5 italian words you really don’t want to mispronounce. After reading her post, I’m not sure I should ever try to roll my tongue around the Italian language. It sounds like I could get in deep trouble just ordering pasta!

In Texas, the Spanish language is the foreign tongue we encounter the most often. A friend of mine, whose Texas twang is much worse than mine, moved to Mexico City with her family to live for a year. “M” was armed with a very limited knowledge of Spanish which, when spoken with a Texas twang, was almost unbearable to the ear. In Mexico City, they could afford to hire a maid and a chauffeur who both spent most of their time trying to correct “M”s horrible pronunciation.

One day, “M” decided she wanted to get some toys for her children. The chauffeur drove her to a local store, and offered to go get the items she wanted, but “M” said, “No, I want to do it myself.” He followed her inside anyway. She marched proudly up to the counter at the toy store and said, “Yo quiero dos cojones.” Imagine her surprise when everyone in the store fell over laughing! The chauffeur was red-faced and rushed my puzzled friend out to the car. She asked him, “What did I do? I just said I wanted two balls.” He answered, “No, Miss. You wanted dos pelotas. The two balls you ordered they don’t sell at a toy store.”

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The Freelance Cynic had a post called Building Bridges about the discomfort of dealing with “Beggars and Charity Canvassers” as he walks down the street. As always, I found his post witty and wickedly funny. And, it triggered a memory of a time that I took two young friends from a local children’s home on an outing.

The boys wanted to go to Chuck E. Cheese’s, “where a kid can be a kid.” My children were grown, and I had hoped never to go to this place again. If you’ve never experienced it, you aren’t missing anything! It’s a pizza restaurant/arcade. It’s a playground/carnival. It’s loud, expensive, the food isn’t that wonderful, and children go wild for it. My little buddies had never been there before, so I felt the need to grant their wish.

They had a wonderful time playing, and I had so much fun enjoying watching them, that I forgot I hated the place. When we were ready to leave, one of the boys asked, “Miss Shelly, can we take this pizza back so that we can show all the kids we came here? We didn’t spit in it or anything.” We packaged up this pizza, because obviously it was a major symbol for them of how special they were to have gotten to come to Chuck E. Cheese’s.

As we drove back to Denton, they chattered on about how everyone was going to be jealous of their pizza, and how they couldn’t wait to show off. When we exited the highway in Denton, I could see a beggar standing at the intersection. I tried to maneuver to the other lane, because I knew I wasn’t about to open the window to hand this man money. He probably made more money than I did by standing on that corner begging. But, I wasn’t fast enough and we pulled up at the light next to him. The scruffy man was holding a sign that said, “Hungry. Plez Help.”

The boys read the sign, and one said, “Miss Shelly, he’s hungry, can we give him our pizza?” Those big-hearted little buddies of mine were willing to give away their “prize” to help a needy person. Feeling very guilty for being such a jaded person, I nodded and rolled down the window. The boys handed the pizza out the window and said, “Here Mister! You can have our pizza! We didn’t spit in it or anything!”

Those boys have hearts as big as Dallas.

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Thanks, Simon and Sognatrice. Your posts were excellent and triggered some memories I enjoyed.

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I appreciate y'all talking to me, Sognatrice and Freelance Cynic!
Life Is A Gamble

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Lordy, I miss my Momma. There isn’t a day that goes by in the two years since she’s gone that I don’t think, “I gotta call Momma and tell her that…” And, then I remember that I can’t call her anymore. So, I just sit and talk to her picture. It’s not much comfort.

With Mother’s Day coming on, the ache in my heart is a little more pronounced. My friend SusieJ had a poignant post about her mother this week. Then there were several TTs that talked about their mommas, but Marcia’s over at Tumbled Words grabbed my heart. So y’all excuse me while I indulge in a favorite memory of Momma.

That woman was lucky! Seriously. She bought a scratch off lottery ticket several years ago, and won $20,000! Yes, she did. She gave some money to her two financially struggling daughters, and then she bought herself some new knees. She wanted to be able to stand at the slot machines when she went to Louisiana to gamble! My Momma did love to play the slots.

One time, I drove from the Fort Worth area up to get Momma in Whitesboro, Tx and take her to Shreveport to the casinos. It was a long darn drive for me, but she wanted to go and I wanted to take her; she was excited because I had gotten us a hotel room so we could stay overnight. But, we had to go to the casino first thing instead of finding our hotel!

I helped her out of the car and followed my Momma as she toodled inside on her walker. After she found a quarter slot machine that she knew would be lucky, she seated herself with her rolls of quarters. [Slot machines were more satisfying then. You didn't put a card in a slot, you fed real money, pulled a handle, and sometimes real money fell out.]

I took the two rolls of quarters that I would allow myself to gamble (I’m not as dumb as I look!) and found my own lucky slot machine. It was indeed very lucky—IT got all the quarters! I was done in about ten minutes, so I just sat around and did some serious “people-watching.” Later, I went to check on Momma and she had six or seven huge cups of quarters stacked around her! She had only opened one of her rolls of quarters. She was winning! At one point in the evening, she was “up” about $900!

After a couple of hours of this, her machine wasn’t paying off so well, so I convinced her that we should eat. I must have whined a lot, because she conceded that we should go find our hotel. I got us checked in and took in our bags, but Momma was restless. So, we went back to the casino for a few more hours. Now, I didn’t have any money that I was willing to risk, so I just watched her, and she just kept gathering quarters.

She finally realized that I was exhausted, and said, “Oh, Honey, I’m so sorry. We can go back to the hotel.” What a relief! As soon as we got in the door, I put on my pajamas and fell in bed. I was peacefully sleeping, but then I awoke with the strangest sensation. I lay in the darkness feeling as if someone was watching me!

Quickly I turned on the bedside lamp, and there sat my Momma on the side of her bed. She was fully dressed and just leaning on her walker just staring at me. She grinned an impish smile and said, “The casino is open all night.”

I fell out of the bed laughing, and put on my clothes. I said, “I’ll take you back to the casino, but I’m coming back here to sleep. I’ll come back and find you in a few hours. Don’t you go getting into any trouble!”

She didn’t get into any trouble. But, she didn’t have a huge winning streak. Those machines beckoning her to put in her money. Before it was done, she had spent most of what she had won. I think she only was ahead $120 by the time I took her home. That was better than I did.

After that, any chance we got my Big Bubba, My Little Sis, and I took Momma to the casinos. When a brand spankin’ new casino opened in Oklahoma, Momma even drove herself sometimes. People that was the biggest gamble of all! We didn’t want my Momma behind the wheel! But, not a one of us had the courage to stop her!

In her later years, gambling was one of her biggest thrills. After she was diagnosed with cancer and taking chemotherapy, she was weak but she was still willing. I had scheduled with Momma to take her gambling on Tuesday. I don’t know what came up, but I couldn’t make it, so we agreed to put it off for a few days. Before we could go, Momma was rushed to the hospital. She had been feeling forgetful for several days. My Little Sis couldn’t reach Momma on the phone and drove over. Momma had forgotten to turn off the car which was running in the garage, and had been running, evidently, for hours. My Momma was passed out on the couch, overcome with carbon monoxide.

She recovered from that episode, but the doctors discovered that cancer had gone to her brain. We gambled on radiation treatments to give her some time, but her luck had run out. Momma was gone within the month.

You are thinking to yourself, “Now, why did Shelly go and ruin a funny story with the sad part?”

Well, because I don’t want you to put “it” off until tomorrow. Take every chance you have to enjoy your loved ones today. Don’t wait for Mother’s Day to tell your Momma you love her. Don’t wait to tell anyone you love them. Life is a gamble, my friends. All we have is now. When that’s over, all that is left are the stories. ♥ ♥ ♥

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I know y’all have some stories about your own Momma. If you have posted something, leave me a comment with the permalink so the rest of us can read your stories. I’ll put your link on this post on Saturday, when I get home from traveling. Or, you can just leave a long comment and tell me a story.

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