Par for the course, we didn't have the appropriate number candles. So, the wrong numbers are better than no numbers, right? Especially if the numbers make you younger? Huh, dad?
Can you see what the boys gave Pop for his birthday? Battleship!
Showing posts with label Pop. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pop. Show all posts
Monday, September 29, 2014
Monday, January 7, 2013
Words from Pop
If you've visited the blog with any regularity, you know I often include "Words from Pop." The posts feature words from my dad, who has been writing probably since he could hold a pencil. He does it for a living, and it's always a treasure when his pieces capture sweet memories or moments for our family. Looks like Pop has bitten the bullet and is going to give this blogging thing a try. In the meantime, check out one of his recent posts:
Laughter was never far from James
Laughter was never far from James
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
A Whole Lot of Christmas (part 2)
So, our Christmas fun with family continued on Christmas Eve with a big breakfast. Josh's family were on their way back home and my family arrived. So, we all enjoyed a big, tasty breakfast before the Garrett clan left. Shortly after our breakfast settled, there was more gift exchanging...
Everyone, except Sam, who couldn't care less about opening a present. He is much too busy to sit down and open something!
Shortly after the gift opening it was pajama time. We loaded our boys up and headed home. The boys watched Elf on the way home, and the last thing we did before turning in for the night was put out the cookies we made for Santa and strawberry milk (as Jack requested).
Stay tuned for the final installment of Christmas. Part 3 coming soon!
So many pretty packages...
His very own cash register. Ding, ding!
One of Sam's favorite gifts: his very own Molly pup. Named after Uncle John & Aunt Lisa's sweet dog. Hoping this will teach Sam to be more loving (and less torturous) to the real Molly!
Lisa's crafty wrapping included stamps. Maybe Jack could help out next year?
So true.
"Mom, take my picture with my tower!"
Speaking of towers, this one is coming down! The big blocks are a hit, Uncle John & Aunt Lisa!
Later that evening we all headed to my grandparent's house just outside of Athens for our annual Christmas Eve feast with extended family. The gathering is a tradition, but the menu is anything but. Featuring low country boil, fried shrimp, hushpuppies and fries, it's definitely not your typical ham and turkey. It's always a house full when we get together, and all the great grandkids make it a fun time. Here they are all patiently waiting their gift to open.
Everyone, except Sam, who couldn't care less about opening a present. He is much too busy to sit down and open something!
Shortly after the gift opening it was pajama time. We loaded our boys up and headed home. The boys watched Elf on the way home, and the last thing we did before turning in for the night was put out the cookies we made for Santa and strawberry milk (as Jack requested).
Stay tuned for the final installment of Christmas. Part 3 coming soon!
Monday, October 3, 2011
Pop is 61
On Saturday, we headed down to Athens to watch the Bulldogs take on the Bulldogs. My sweet sister-in-law, Lisa, agreed to watch the boys while everyone else went to the game. Well, just before kick-off Sam showed her his incredible skill of self-injury when he fell and bit through his lip. He's much better now, but had a fat lip for a while. After the game, everyone stayed to help celebrate my dad's 61st birthday.
There was popcorn, which pleased Jack to no end!
There was a teeny tiny hat, that my other sister-in-law, Kristy, had picked up at her favorite store Glitzy Chick to wear to the game.
Sam donning the hat & showing off his battle wound.
I can't figure out what tickles me more about this photo: the fact that Sam is enjoying this itty bitty hat so much or that Jack is still pounding the popcorn in the background!
We even got to share part of our celebration with my sister or Aunt Emmy via Skype. Jack enjoyed showing off the cake, and we all enjoyed singing and celebrating Pop!
There was popcorn, which pleased Jack to no end!
There was a teeny tiny hat, that my other sister-in-law, Kristy, had picked up at her favorite store Glitzy Chick to wear to the game.
Sam donning the hat & showing off his battle wound.
I can't figure out what tickles me more about this photo: the fact that Sam is enjoying this itty bitty hat so much or that Jack is still pounding the popcorn in the background!
We even got to share part of our celebration with my sister or Aunt Emmy via Skype. Jack enjoyed showing off the cake, and we all enjoyed singing and celebrating Pop!
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Happy Bday, dear old Dad
Saturday was my dad's birthday, and I missed a chance to say happy birthday in the blogosphere. So, I'll do so now! I love you, dad! Looking forward to celebrating with most of the family this weekend!
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Some words from Pop (5th installment)
As I mentioned previously, last Thursday marked my 32nd birthday. My sweet dad shared this column with me this weekend. It ran in the August 11th edition of The Oconee Enterprise. For my regular readers, this is a somewhat regular feature here on the blog. I've also been asked to issue kleenex alerts before proceeding with most of my dad's pieces, but I don't think this one is that tear-inducing. But, if you are looking for one that is...read one of his others here. Or there's always this one. And these two about Sam and Jack.
Aug. 11 is Pretty Significant Day
In the grand scheme of things, Aug. 11 is significant as 811 day, when utility companies encourage people to call 811 before digging in their yards with mechanized equipment.
But on a personal level, Aug. 11 has been a pretty big day.
It was on Aug. 11, 1969, that I embarked upon a professional career in journalism, starting as a sportswriter.
My first story was about the Athens American Legion baseball team losing in the state finals. I did not go to the game. I talked to the coach, who provided details.
Among those details, Jimmy Wilkes dropped a fly ball in center field at a key moment. I received a phone call later from his father Dupree Wilkes, a fine fellow who had coached me briefly in Little League baseball, informing me that his son had not dropped the ball, but that the umpire had ruled that he trapped it.
Happily, young Jimmy Wilkes was unscarred by the incident, and he rose to a rank of significance in the armed forces, the Air Force if I am not mistaken. If I am wrong, someone will call.
But it was 10 years later that Aug. 11 took on significance of the highest order. Late that Saturday morning, my bride Jan gave birth to our second child.
"You've got a sissy little girl," announced the baby doc.
We had children back in the dark ages before routine ultrasound exams revealed the sex. And so Laura Marie Giles was born.
It sounds like merely the musings of a proud papa, but I honestly have never seen a prettier baby. She had a head of thick, black hair, a smooth complexion and a healthy skin tone.
Well, she's still as pretty and is now the blissfully wed wife of Joshua Garrett, and mother of two boys, Jack and Sam.
Looking back over the years of my professional career, I can point to columns where I wrote about her siblings, John and Emily. If I wrote about Laura, it escapes me.
There was that one column where she was a JV cheerleader at a Cedar Shoals football game. It was the first and last time I ever embedded a message in a column, and today is the first time I have revealed that fact. Taking the first letter of each paragraph, the message read, "Laura Giles was great."
She was never a great athlete, but she was a determined participant. She still holds the family record for most points scored in a high school basketball game.
She became a Bulldog at UGA, where like me she earned a degree in journalism. Of my three offspring, she looks the most like me, and she was most interested in writing.
Her writing now is mostly reserved for her blog, Garrett News, where you can keep up with her family. Most of her energies are spent on her boys, Josh included, and it is a joy to see her so happy.
Aug. 11. When you dig deep into the heart of Blake Giles, what stands out is not so much that first day on the job, but that "sissy little girl."
Blake Giles is the editor for The Oconee Enterprise. Opinions expressed are those of the writer.
Aug. 11 is Pretty Significant Day
In the grand scheme of things, Aug. 11 is significant as 811 day, when utility companies encourage people to call 811 before digging in their yards with mechanized equipment.
But on a personal level, Aug. 11 has been a pretty big day.
It was on Aug. 11, 1969, that I embarked upon a professional career in journalism, starting as a sportswriter.
My first story was about the Athens American Legion baseball team losing in the state finals. I did not go to the game. I talked to the coach, who provided details.
Among those details, Jimmy Wilkes dropped a fly ball in center field at a key moment. I received a phone call later from his father Dupree Wilkes, a fine fellow who had coached me briefly in Little League baseball, informing me that his son had not dropped the ball, but that the umpire had ruled that he trapped it.
Happily, young Jimmy Wilkes was unscarred by the incident, and he rose to a rank of significance in the armed forces, the Air Force if I am not mistaken. If I am wrong, someone will call.
But it was 10 years later that Aug. 11 took on significance of the highest order. Late that Saturday morning, my bride Jan gave birth to our second child.
"You've got a sissy little girl," announced the baby doc.
We had children back in the dark ages before routine ultrasound exams revealed the sex. And so Laura Marie Giles was born.
It sounds like merely the musings of a proud papa, but I honestly have never seen a prettier baby. She had a head of thick, black hair, a smooth complexion and a healthy skin tone.
Well, she's still as pretty and is now the blissfully wed wife of Joshua Garrett, and mother of two boys, Jack and Sam.
Looking back over the years of my professional career, I can point to columns where I wrote about her siblings, John and Emily. If I wrote about Laura, it escapes me.
There was that one column where she was a JV cheerleader at a Cedar Shoals football game. It was the first and last time I ever embedded a message in a column, and today is the first time I have revealed that fact. Taking the first letter of each paragraph, the message read, "Laura Giles was great."
She was never a great athlete, but she was a determined participant. She still holds the family record for most points scored in a high school basketball game.
She became a Bulldog at UGA, where like me she earned a degree in journalism. Of my three offspring, she looks the most like me, and she was most interested in writing.
Her writing now is mostly reserved for her blog, Garrett News, where you can keep up with her family. Most of her energies are spent on her boys, Josh included, and it is a joy to see her so happy.
Aug. 11. When you dig deep into the heart of Blake Giles, what stands out is not so much that first day on the job, but that "sissy little girl."
Blake Giles is the editor for The Oconee Enterprise. Opinions expressed are those of the writer.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Father
F is for friend, because he's always there when you need him. My dad always has been. Maybe because we have a similar personality, a laid-back attitude or a similar love of writing, but my dad and I just "get" each other. It brings such joy to see my boys with their best buddy...daddy!
A is for awesome. Dads are just the best. The cat's pajamas. As far as Jack & Sam are concerned Josh is #1; he's their best buddy.
T is for teacher, because there is no one's instruction that means quite as much as a father's. I'm grateful for the guidance and direction my dad has always provided. Dad probably remembers he's the one who taught me to ride my bike, but he's also where I learned how to keep your chin up and trust God when life deals you a bad hand.
H is for happiness, because fathers bring so much to those around them. It's often exhausting to care for two small children daily, but their faces aren't the only ones that light up when daddy gets home. His arrival signifies that I've survived another day, and now it's time for the real fun to begin. I can still remember the smell of my own father's shoulder as I greeted him with hugs. He was (and still is) a newspaper man, and the smell of the ink and presses often permeated his sweaters and coats. When did I grow too old for that sweet greeting? Here's hoping my boys will give their dad the same exciting greeting for many, many years to come.
E is for excellent. Along the same lines of awesome, dads are just incredible. They draw pictures and jokes on your sack lunches. Drawings that gain such acclaim that your classmates gather at the lunch table eager to see what your dad drew today. They sacrifice space and cool points sporting a carseat in the backseat of their truck because riding with daddy is always cooler.
R is for respect, because our fathers deserve so much of ours. Not just because of how much he gives to our family, but because Josh is our guardian and protector. What a huge responsibility. I respect him so much for the role he plays in spiritually guiding our family.
Hope the special dads in my life know how much they are appreciated today and every day!
A is for awesome. Dads are just the best. The cat's pajamas. As far as Jack & Sam are concerned Josh is #1; he's their best buddy.
T is for teacher, because there is no one's instruction that means quite as much as a father's. I'm grateful for the guidance and direction my dad has always provided. Dad probably remembers he's the one who taught me to ride my bike, but he's also where I learned how to keep your chin up and trust God when life deals you a bad hand.
H is for happiness, because fathers bring so much to those around them. It's often exhausting to care for two small children daily, but their faces aren't the only ones that light up when daddy gets home. His arrival signifies that I've survived another day, and now it's time for the real fun to begin. I can still remember the smell of my own father's shoulder as I greeted him with hugs. He was (and still is) a newspaper man, and the smell of the ink and presses often permeated his sweaters and coats. When did I grow too old for that sweet greeting? Here's hoping my boys will give their dad the same exciting greeting for many, many years to come.
E is for excellent. Along the same lines of awesome, dads are just incredible. They draw pictures and jokes on your sack lunches. Drawings that gain such acclaim that your classmates gather at the lunch table eager to see what your dad drew today. They sacrifice space and cool points sporting a carseat in the backseat of their truck because riding with daddy is always cooler.
R is for respect, because our fathers deserve so much of ours. Not just because of how much he gives to our family, but because Josh is our guardian and protector. What a huge responsibility. I respect him so much for the role he plays in spiritually guiding our family.
Hope the special dads in my life know how much they are appreciated today and every day!
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Take Me Out to the Ballgame
On Memorial Day, we were thrilled to have Josh at home...especially since he had worked on Saturday and Sunday. We enjoyed spending our morning swimming with some friends. Jack loves the pool. Sam enjoys it, but really prefers to get in and out and explore all the surroundings. Later that day, we all went shopping in Buford. The crowds were out for sure, but Jack still got to enjoy several trips on the escalators (his favorite part of any trip to the mall). Eventually, Josh had to head back home for his Monday evening shift, and the boys and I headed to my brother and sister-in-law's house nearby for a cook-out with Mema & Pop. The highlight of a stop at Uncle John & Aunt Lisa's is always fun with their playful and energetic dog, Molly.
Monday, October 11, 2010
October
October has arrived, and it brought some cooler temperatures with it. They were short lived, but they will be back again soon. Although we've still had some days hovering in the 80s, most days have been pretty perfect weather wise. They are the perfect kind of days.
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| Perfect for tailgating with fellow Raiders |
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Perfect for spending time with cousins! |
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Perfect for celebrating milestone birthdays! Dad, I'm guessing you weren't specific enough when you wished for a Bulldog victory that night. |
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| Perfect for pumpkins! |
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| Perfect for afternoon outings at the park...with bubbles, of course! |
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| Perfect for train rides with fellow choo-choo enthusiasts |
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| Perfect for a hayride with my boys! |
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| Perfect for basking in the glory of God's beautiful canvas. A canvas on the verge of changing all around us! |
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| Perfect for photo posing with friends. |
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| Perfect for watching football. Although I'm not used to having to go to this much trouble just to watch a game. I guess that's what happens when your team is struggling (to say the least). |
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| Perfect for monkeying around with friends. Think Evelyn is having any fun? |
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| Perfect for cutting loose and letting things slide. |
So, we've been keeping very busy these days...but still been managing to get our fair share of fun too.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Some words from Pop (4th installment)
So, if you've been stopping by here for a decent length of time, you'll know that I've included some of my dad's eloquent words over the past few months. He's a wonderful writer and always seems to find a way to bring beauty, humor and truth to his columns no matter the subject. You probably also know my sweet little sis is off in Germany with her Army husband, and her goodbye was certainly cause for some of dad's words. Here's your latest installment of Words from Pop.
Bonus baby changed the definition of the perfect family
A quarter of a century ago, Jan and I thought we had the perfect family. We had each other, and we had a boy and a girl. John and Laura.
We were so certain that our birthing days were behind us that we gave away all the trappings of infant care. Well, we kept the high chair and loaned it out. It would come in handy one day for grandbabies.
It was 1985, one that marks a sad moment in family history. Having a baby was most definitely not on the to-do list. You see, Jan's mother died in September of that year. Annie Ruth Pulliam had only recently retired from her toil at Thomas Textiel, where she made clothes for toddlers.
She was suffering the effects of chemotherapy that year. It was thus a bittersweet moment to tell her about a grandchild that she would never see.
"Well, how did that happen?" she asked. Given that her son had already presented her with six grandchildren to go with our two, I suspect it was a rhetorical question.
We began assembling the paraphernalia necessary to bring up a little human being. And as we looked around, we noticed a house too small and cars built for four. So we started planning a move.
I'm not sure that many people can tell you the exact date that they moved into their home. We started moving furniture March 7, 1986, hindered not in the least bit by the chimney fire at my parents' house. Saturday, March 8 was moving date.
Sunday morning as I awoke in our new home, I caught Jan looking at the clock radio on a regular basis.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Timing contractions," she said.
"Doesn't look like we'll be going to church today," said I.
We had babies back in the dark ages when ultrasound was reserved for special considerations. We never knew. Boy or girl? Yet, in the weeks before the birth, we had picked out a girl's name, but not one for a boy. So maybe it was no big surprise when Emily Ruth, our "bonus baby," arrived that Sunday afternoon.
The date was March 9, 44 years to the day when Annie Ruth eloped to secretly marry James Pulliam.
For a while it seemed we had misplaced our parenting skills. Three seemed exponentially more difficult than two. And those two will tell you that Emily got away with a lot more than they ever did.
She gave us a scare when she was hospitalized with pneumonia before she was even a year old. But she gave us countless joys too.
Faithful readers of The Oconee Enterprise may remember that I introduced Emily to you last year as the bride whose wedding was moved around about three times to accommodate the Army's schedule for her husband, Jonathan Rupard. They were wed Aug. 8, and he left for duty in Cuba on Aug. 15. What a way to start a marriage.
She visited him in Guantanamo over the holidays, but they only really started their married life as a couple when he returned Aug. 14.
All summer long we have looked forward to his return with mixed emotions. Because we knew that once he got home, it would be just a few short days before they left for his next duty station.
Mannheim, Germany. For three years.
The world is smaller these days, thanks to electronic communication, so it is not like we can't talk and even see each other via the Internet. But the last hug for a while was last Friday, standing in the Atlanta airport, surrounded by luggage and travelers, blurred together by tears.
As a man who makes his living as a communicator, I had no grandiose message as we embraced. Just three words.
"I love you."
Of course, John and Laura are still close at hand, each married. Laura has children of her own.
There was a time when Jan and I would have considered that the perfect family.
Thanks to Emily, we know better now.
Blake Giles is the editor for The Oconee Enterprise. Opinions expressed are those of the writer.
Bonus baby changed the definition of the perfect family
A quarter of a century ago, Jan and I thought we had the perfect family. We had each other, and we had a boy and a girl. John and Laura.
We were so certain that our birthing days were behind us that we gave away all the trappings of infant care. Well, we kept the high chair and loaned it out. It would come in handy one day for grandbabies.
It was 1985, one that marks a sad moment in family history. Having a baby was most definitely not on the to-do list. You see, Jan's mother died in September of that year. Annie Ruth Pulliam had only recently retired from her toil at Thomas Textiel, where she made clothes for toddlers.
She was suffering the effects of chemotherapy that year. It was thus a bittersweet moment to tell her about a grandchild that she would never see.
"Well, how did that happen?" she asked. Given that her son had already presented her with six grandchildren to go with our two, I suspect it was a rhetorical question.
We began assembling the paraphernalia necessary to bring up a little human being. And as we looked around, we noticed a house too small and cars built for four. So we started planning a move.
I'm not sure that many people can tell you the exact date that they moved into their home. We started moving furniture March 7, 1986, hindered not in the least bit by the chimney fire at my parents' house. Saturday, March 8 was moving date.
Sunday morning as I awoke in our new home, I caught Jan looking at the clock radio on a regular basis.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Timing contractions," she said.
"Doesn't look like we'll be going to church today," said I.
We had babies back in the dark ages when ultrasound was reserved for special considerations. We never knew. Boy or girl? Yet, in the weeks before the birth, we had picked out a girl's name, but not one for a boy. So maybe it was no big surprise when Emily Ruth, our "bonus baby," arrived that Sunday afternoon.
The date was March 9, 44 years to the day when Annie Ruth eloped to secretly marry James Pulliam.
For a while it seemed we had misplaced our parenting skills. Three seemed exponentially more difficult than two. And those two will tell you that Emily got away with a lot more than they ever did.
She gave us a scare when she was hospitalized with pneumonia before she was even a year old. But she gave us countless joys too.
Faithful readers of The Oconee Enterprise may remember that I introduced Emily to you last year as the bride whose wedding was moved around about three times to accommodate the Army's schedule for her husband, Jonathan Rupard. They were wed Aug. 8, and he left for duty in Cuba on Aug. 15. What a way to start a marriage.
She visited him in Guantanamo over the holidays, but they only really started their married life as a couple when he returned Aug. 14.
All summer long we have looked forward to his return with mixed emotions. Because we knew that once he got home, it would be just a few short days before they left for his next duty station.
Mannheim, Germany. For three years.
The world is smaller these days, thanks to electronic communication, so it is not like we can't talk and even see each other via the Internet. But the last hug for a while was last Friday, standing in the Atlanta airport, surrounded by luggage and travelers, blurred together by tears.
As a man who makes his living as a communicator, I had no grandiose message as we embraced. Just three words.
"I love you."
Of course, John and Laura are still close at hand, each married. Laura has children of her own.
There was a time when Jan and I would have considered that the perfect family.
Thanks to Emily, we know better now.
Blake Giles is the editor for The Oconee Enterprise. Opinions expressed are those of the writer.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Operation Heal Mema
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Some words from Pop (Part 3)
You might recall I posted a couple of my dad's columns a few months back after Sam was born. I have had another in mind but was waiting for the right time to post. As we celebrated my mom's dad's birthday this past weekend, I recalled fondly lots of memories I had from growing up just a stone's throw from both sets of my grandparents. In the last 2 1/2 years, we've said our earthly goodbyes to both of my dad's parents. Both of their birthday's were also in June. My grandmother, affectionately known as Mama Nell, would have been 83 this year. Instead she has celebrated the last 3 birthdays with a host of angels. We mourned her passing a mere three weeks before Jack arrived. I'm guessing she got to see him and hold him even before I did. Here's one of dad's columns that ran about a month before his mom's death.
A Longer Look
I wish you could have seen us.
There we were, looking as grim as 10-year-old boys can look, armed as we are with brand-new six-shooter cap guns, protecting Athens from an injun uprising. My holster is strapped to my thigh. For quick draw, you know.
Laugh if you must, but we must have been pretty effective. I haven't heard of a single injun uprising in these parts since.
Posse work is hard labor, which is one reason we appreciated the cake and ice cream so much. Besides, what's a birthday party without it?
That party was a gift from Mother.
I wish you could have heard her. Mother is driving my brother Bill and I back from Winder to Athens. It's a mere 22 miles, but at times it seemed like it took forever to get back home from visiting grandparents.
"Are we there yet?"
Mother would sing to us.
It was always the same song, an old folk song, "Barbara Allen." It seemed to reach its plaintive climax somewhere between Statham and Bogart.
As I remember it, the last line is this: "And the rose wrapped round the briar."
I always hoped that song would end differently one day.
That song was a gift from Mother.
It's a good thing you didn't see the bicycle wreck. It was not a pretty sight. The plan seemed brilliant. I would ride my bike to within inches of my brother and dodge him at the last minute. I turned right. Only he dodged right. End result, I went airborne over the handlebars, skidding to a skin-ripping stop, palms first.
The painful circumstances called for immediate attention. There was only one person for the job. You know who.
Mother always used Bactine instead of Merthiolate or mercurochrome. The Bactine didn't sting.
The TLC was a gift from Mother.
Maybe you saw my children, scampering across one arena or another while playing volleyball, basketball, baseball, soccer, tennis and softball. Their playing days are behind them, except for Emily, still playing soccer and tennis at nearby Emmanuel College.
You can never convince me that their endeavors in sports did not help them develop into three adults any parent would be proud of.
Mother agreed, which was why she helped pay Emily's tuition to a private high school. That was another gift from Mother.
I wish you could see me. I look good. I'm standing in front of a crowd at church, and I look sharp, if I don't say so myself.
It's the suit. It's gray with a subtle pinstripe. It's cut just right. It folds and pleats in all the right places.
The suit was a gift from Mother.
Not too many days ago we received grim news. Cancer had practically closed her esophagus. The radiation proved unbearable. Life on a feeding tube was not an option. So she is fighting on her own terms.
Each day with her now is a gift from God.
We had a talk a while back, when a different health setback turned our attentions to our mortality.
"I'll look back and say I had a blessed life," she said.
Those words were a gift from Mother.
I wish you could have seen me.
It was a September Sunday in 1950. I've made my arrival. I'm a little early, so I don't even tip the scales at 6 pounds.
I'm in the arms of a 23-year-old Nell Giles who confessed recently that she was frightened by the prospect of motherhood.
With God's help, she mastered her calling. I just hope that the way I have lived my own life has been my gift back to Mother.
Blake Giles
A Longer Look
I wish you could have seen us.
There we were, looking as grim as 10-year-old boys can look, armed as we are with brand-new six-shooter cap guns, protecting Athens from an injun uprising. My holster is strapped to my thigh. For quick draw, you know.
Laugh if you must, but we must have been pretty effective. I haven't heard of a single injun uprising in these parts since.
Posse work is hard labor, which is one reason we appreciated the cake and ice cream so much. Besides, what's a birthday party without it?
That party was a gift from Mother.
I wish you could have heard her. Mother is driving my brother Bill and I back from Winder to Athens. It's a mere 22 miles, but at times it seemed like it took forever to get back home from visiting grandparents.
"Are we there yet?"
Mother would sing to us.
It was always the same song, an old folk song, "Barbara Allen." It seemed to reach its plaintive climax somewhere between Statham and Bogart.
As I remember it, the last line is this: "And the rose wrapped round the briar."
I always hoped that song would end differently one day.
That song was a gift from Mother.
It's a good thing you didn't see the bicycle wreck. It was not a pretty sight. The plan seemed brilliant. I would ride my bike to within inches of my brother and dodge him at the last minute. I turned right. Only he dodged right. End result, I went airborne over the handlebars, skidding to a skin-ripping stop, palms first.
The painful circumstances called for immediate attention. There was only one person for the job. You know who.
Mother always used Bactine instead of Merthiolate or mercurochrome. The Bactine didn't sting.
The TLC was a gift from Mother.
Maybe you saw my children, scampering across one arena or another while playing volleyball, basketball, baseball, soccer, tennis and softball. Their playing days are behind them, except for Emily, still playing soccer and tennis at nearby Emmanuel College.
You can never convince me that their endeavors in sports did not help them develop into three adults any parent would be proud of.
Mother agreed, which was why she helped pay Emily's tuition to a private high school. That was another gift from Mother.
I wish you could see me. I look good. I'm standing in front of a crowd at church, and I look sharp, if I don't say so myself.
It's the suit. It's gray with a subtle pinstripe. It's cut just right. It folds and pleats in all the right places.
The suit was a gift from Mother.
Not too many days ago we received grim news. Cancer had practically closed her esophagus. The radiation proved unbearable. Life on a feeding tube was not an option. So she is fighting on her own terms.
Each day with her now is a gift from God.
We had a talk a while back, when a different health setback turned our attentions to our mortality.
"I'll look back and say I had a blessed life," she said.
Those words were a gift from Mother.
I wish you could have seen me.
It was a September Sunday in 1950. I've made my arrival. I'm a little early, so I don't even tip the scales at 6 pounds.
I'm in the arms of a 23-year-old Nell Giles who confessed recently that she was frightened by the prospect of motherhood.
With God's help, she mastered her calling. I just hope that the way I have lived my own life has been my gift back to Mother.
Blake Giles
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Celebrating Dads
I find that communicating true thanks can be difficult. On Father’s Day, I have a few folks to be incredibly thankful for. The first would be my husband. Those that know him would describe him as smart, funny, outgoing and kind. He’s truly excels at whatever he puts his mind to. He must really have his mind on this fathering business, because it is a true joy to see him blossoming as a daddy to Jack and Sam. Thank you for all that you do on a daily basis (there is much too much to name) for our family. We treasure you and honor you on not just this day, but every other one as well!
I’m also thankful for my own father. He was an incredible example of faith and purposeful living growing up and still is. He’s a truth seeker, and the kind of guy folks go to for perspective. I guess he’s most widely known as a writer or journalist, but his best material is the story he writes each and every day with his actions.
I’m thankful as well for my father-in-law. Neither Josh nor I would be the parents we are without the solid upbringing and outpouring of love and support we received growing up. Thank for living as an example to your family!
And because it’s Father’s Day, I feel the inclination to give thanks for my heavenly father and my faith, in general. It’s not something I blog about a lot, but I am a child of His, and how wonderful that is! So, today and every day, I should give thanks!
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Some words from Pop (Part 2)
As promised, here is part 2 in the series. I have some more of Dad's columns squirreled away and this is so much easier than actually coming up with my own blog entry...who knows maybe we'll make it a regular feature here at Garrett News!? In case you missed part one, take a look.Welcome to grandson Sam
Sam, welcome little man.
This is your Pop writing. You can thank your older brother Jack for hanging that name on me. That's the privilege of being the first grandchild. Don't worry. There are a lot of benefits to being No. 2.
For one thing, Jack did a pretty good job of breaking in your parents. They've endured their share of late nights and early mornings. Your mommy, I call her Laura by the way, has mastered the art of transporting little people. If she's ever been caught unprepared, I've yet to see it.
I'd like to say that I can take some credit for that. But more likely she inherited that mommy gene from your Mema.
The more I look at you Sam, the more I see your mother's features. Folks say she looks like me. You can tell me later whether you consider that a compliment or curse.
I don't know what your future holds, but even just a few hours old you gave your Pop an unforgettable thrill.
Not a roller-coaster thrill. But a thrill that reaches down deep where the tender parts are and coaxes forth teary eyes and bliss and peace and utter joy. Thanks.
Sam, you count on me to be honest with you, except in matters related to certain fanciful creatures of childhood (see Train, Thomas the). So I must confess that I was a little worried about our first meeting. Blame that on brother Jack.
I was unprepared for the overwhelming emotion that swept over me when I held young Jack for the first time, Nov. 28, 2007. I had officially become a grandfather. Hey, it happens to millions of people everyday, but it's still a special event.
Sam, I was just a little worried that holding you for the first time would not hold the same joy. I should have known better.
Particularly since I fathered three children, and that never got old. Already you are teaching me some things about life.
Sam, I am going to leave the heavy lifting of child rearing to your parents. They don't have all the experience in the world yet, but they seem to know what they are doing. I have a sneaking suspicion that they will be able to find the wherewithal to handle two boys in poopypants.
But, Sam, I am going to try to teach you some important truths.
Like how to make sounds like a barking dog (that would be Go Dawgs, sic' em, woof, woof, woof!) Maybe how to play a harmonica. How to hit a wiffle ball. And one of these days we might get around to golfshoes. It's a beach game, and that's all you need to know right now.
But really the thing that I want you to learn is that the greatest place in the world is Pop's and Mema's house.
One thing I have to warn you about, Sam, is the aforementioned Jack. Sam, I guarantee that he will exasperate you. Hey, I know it's a big word, but get used to it. Your Pop and your Mommy are a couple of wordsmiths.
Back to Jack. You are going to have to cut him a little slack. He has pretty much been the center of the world up there in Mt. Airy, Ga. And now you show up to horn in on things. It will be good for both of you.
Samuel Boyd Garrett, welcome. I am so looking forward to being part of your world.
Blake Giles is the editor of The Oconee Enterprise. Opinions expressed are those of the writer.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Some words from Pop (Part 1)
My dad (or Pop as Jack calls him) penned this column right after Jack was born. Thought I'd share it with you all. My dad's quite a writer. In fact, most people think that's where I got my knack for it. I only hope to be able to one day move folks with tears, laughter and smiles through my words the way my dad always has. I'd like to think that if he had time to start a blog, these are the types of wonderful pieces you would read there. I read Pop's column welcoming Jack again for the first time the other day and cried as though I was reading it again for the first time. Jackson David Garrett, welcome to the world
Hello, Jack.
Welcome home.
We’ve been expecting you.
Your estimated time of arrival was during the Thanksgiving holiday, but just like Delta, even the stork is late sometimes.
Besides, you were in no hurry to vacate your old digs. Plenty of nourishment, no interruptions and lots of sack time.
I suspect this new environment has been quite a shock to your system. That’s what happens when you discover such previously foreign elements as air and light.
But I promise. You’re going to love it here.
And if you think air and light are something, wait until you discover what else this big ol’ world has to offer.
Jack, maybe some introductions are in order. Things have been happening pretty fast since you showed up at 3:28 in the afternoon on Wednesday, Nov. 28.
Has it been hard to keep up with all the new faces?
Remember this. I’m the good looking one.
Just kidding.
Jack, that’s what you call a joke. It’s meant to amuse and elicit laughter. I sure hope you experience a whole lot of laughter from here on out.
By now, I know you’re well acquainted with your mother. That was her heartbeat you’ve been listening to these past nine months. I’m your mother’s dad.
“What’s a dad?” you ask.
You know that other voice you heard a lot of, the deeper one, that came from somewhere outside your world? That was your dad.
Cut him a little slack, Jack, because this is his first go-round at this dad business. I think he’s going to do just fine. But do forgive him when he makes a mistake. It’s just in our nature.
Moms and dads, by the way, are different. Really, really different.
Moms are equipped with soothing voices, soft touches and instincts that can discern between a dirty-diaper cry and a feed-me cry. When you leave the house in a coordinated outfit that would look just right on the cover of GQ, well, that’s Mom’s doings.
Dads, on the other hand, are a little less civilized. You’ve already noticed that deep voice thing. He’s rougher around the edges, particularly if you brush up against him in the morning. See, overnight he sprouts tiny pieces of wire on his face. And fashion coordination? Forget it. Simply put, do the colors match? Can you see the stains? Does it pass the sniff test? Then we’re good to go.
But one of these days, your Dad will show you how to get a grip on bicycle handlebars, a fishing pole, a baseball bat, a football or a screwdriver. Sometimes he’ll help you get a grip on life itself.
But Jack, there is something that you must understand early in life. The two most important people in your world are, ahem, me and your grandmother.
I know, I know. You don’t live with us.
However, your grandmother and I have devised a careful strategy designed to absolutely capture your heart. We sure hope you will eagerly anticipate our comings and deeply regret our goings.
Jack, as the years go by, you need to show your parents a thing or two.
Remind them about frolicking in autumn leaves, about making mud pies, about chasing wiggly lizards, about catching lightning bugs at dusk and about building sand castles along the seashore. Come to think of it, you need to remind me of those things too, Jack.
I had a little heart to heart with your Mom a few days ago. I begged her to make sure you wear a lot of red and black. I said it wouldn’t hurt if she brags to you about her daddy. Daily. And I asked her to be sure and tell you about Jesus.
I hope your Mom was paying attention when a friend told her to treasure every moment, because those moments will be gone before she knows it.
And I could not help but think of that moment 28 years ago when I first held your Mom. Where did the time go?
Jack, just one last thing.
You’ve no doubt sensed the presence hereabouts of another elusive quality that is hard to define.
It’s called love.
We love you, Jack.
Sleep tight, little man.
Blake Giles is the grandfather of Jackson David Garrett of Mt. Airy, Ga.
Stay tuned for Part 2 of "Some words from Pop." A column welcoming Sam ran in The Oconee Enterprise last week, where Pop serves as Editor.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Here's what we've been doing
Celebrating Christmas has made for such a fun weekend (and several more days it seems). Enjoying the excitement of the season has kept me from updating my loyal blog followers (read with extreme sarcasm) and for that apologize (for both not updating & making that terrible joke!) There are too many pictures to share here, so a good sampling are in my December album.
Jack & I spent early last week with some friends at the new Babyland General in Cleveland. And shame on you if you didn't know that was the birthplace to millions of Cabbage Patch Kids until after clicking the link. Anyway, the new hospital is enormous and was jazzed up for Christmas. I wasn't sure how interested Jack would be in the baby dolls. He seemed to gravitate towards the stuffed animals and loved it when we spotted an Elmo doll. His second favorite part of the tour was probably the giant Cabbage Patch doll, Noel. Her fuzzy outfit was irrestible to him! I also managed to get him to sit on Santa's knee, which was a huge accomplishment! He loves Santa from a distance. As you can see, he wasn't exactly thrilled about it, but there were no tears...so I deemed it a success.
On Christmas Eve, we headed to Athens to celebrate with my parents, brother and sister-in-law. Jack had a great time at Mema & Pop's house. He loved his new camera...he's still learning, but looking forward to keeping up with his mommy and his Pop in the photo department! He was over the moon for his new bubble mower, courtesy of Uncle John & Aunt Lisa. We headed to my grandparents for dinner with my cousins. It was a fun night, and Jack stayed awake all the way home!
When Jack woke up (after 8, which was a nice treat), we saw that Santa had come. He left the most fun surprise for Jack...a shopping cart that he has been pushing around for days! Jack finished the morning with a bubble bath with his new Elmo bubbles, a gift from friends!
That afternoon, Josh's parents and family joined us for dinner and more Christmas fun. He loved his talking Elmo and Little People racecar track. He also got his very own rocking chair. We also enjoyed "sort-of" surprising Josh's parents with their gallery of family photos from our shoot with Sue Ann back in October.
The next day, Josh's aunt & uncle and cousins, as well as my parents, all joined us for lunch and a little gift swaping game...which remained pretty tame. I love Nathan's expression in this photo of Ryan opening a set of TV trays! We don't get to see them as often as we'd like, so it was a real treat to get to spend the better part of the day catching up. The kids had a blast. We are looking forward to ringing in the New Year in a relaxing fashion tonight. See you in 2010!
Jack & I spent early last week with some friends at the new Babyland General in Cleveland. And shame on you if you didn't know that was the birthplace to millions of Cabbage Patch Kids until after clicking the link. Anyway, the new hospital is enormous and was jazzed up for Christmas. I wasn't sure how interested Jack would be in the baby dolls. He seemed to gravitate towards the stuffed animals and loved it when we spotted an Elmo doll. His second favorite part of the tour was probably the giant Cabbage Patch doll, Noel. Her fuzzy outfit was irrestible to him! I also managed to get him to sit on Santa's knee, which was a huge accomplishment! He loves Santa from a distance. As you can see, he wasn't exactly thrilled about it, but there were no tears...so I deemed it a success.
On Christmas Eve, we headed to Athens to celebrate with my parents, brother and sister-in-law. Jack had a great time at Mema & Pop's house. He loved his new camera...he's still learning, but looking forward to keeping up with his mommy and his Pop in the photo department! He was over the moon for his new bubble mower, courtesy of Uncle John & Aunt Lisa. We headed to my grandparents for dinner with my cousins. It was a fun night, and Jack stayed awake all the way home!
When Jack woke up (after 8, which was a nice treat), we saw that Santa had come. He left the most fun surprise for Jack...a shopping cart that he has been pushing around for days! Jack finished the morning with a bubble bath with his new Elmo bubbles, a gift from friends! 
That afternoon, Josh's parents and family joined us for dinner and more Christmas fun. He loved his talking Elmo and Little People racecar track. He also got his very own rocking chair. We also enjoyed "sort-of" surprising Josh's parents with their gallery of family photos from our shoot with Sue Ann back in October.
The next day, Josh's aunt & uncle and cousins, as well as my parents, all joined us for lunch and a little gift swaping game...which remained pretty tame. I love Nathan's expression in this photo of Ryan opening a set of TV trays! We don't get to see them as often as we'd like, so it was a real treat to get to spend the better part of the day catching up. The kids had a blast. We are looking forward to ringing in the New Year in a relaxing fashion tonight. See you in 2010!
Monday, November 9, 2009
Family Times
What a beautiful weekend it was...in more ways than one. The weather was wonderful, and we had the opportunity to spend it with family. Josh's family journeyed over from Rome on Friday evening, and we all traveled to Athens for the game on Saturday. Jack enjoyed some time with Memaw and my sister joined us at the game.
Afterwards, we grilled out at my parent's house. It was a great chance for Jack to chase his cousin Sean around the yard. It was so nice to be able to relax and enjoy the company of those so close to us. Here are some snapshots from the weekend.
Afterwards, we grilled out at my parent's house. It was a great chance for Jack to chase his cousin Sean around the yard. It was so nice to be able to relax and enjoy the company of those so close to us. Here are some snapshots from the weekend.
Enjoying a game of football with cousin Sean
Getting a photography lesson from Aunt Kristy
Peek a boo!
Here I am!
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