WALKING WITH MY DAD AND OTHER SPECIAL MEMORIES

With my Daddy and sister Laura at the Atlanta Zoo,
many years ago - me on the right

One of my earliest memories is of my dad taking me to walk while my mom took care of my little sister. It’s a vague memory of a happy time, just the two of us, walking around the block. Adding a sibling is a rough time for a child who goes from being an only to sharing the parents. I was the older of two but have no memories of being an only. But I do have memories of time with my dad as he made sure I didn’t feel left out after my sister was born.

Peter with Ann-Bailey and their girls
 Lilly Bell and Harper Christmas 2014

Now our son, Peter, and son-in-law, Drew, each have two children: a three year old and a one year old. They each make sure they have time to give the older girls special “daddy time” while the mom takes care of the little one. I’m sure when the girls are older this will retain memories of these special times just for them with their dad. Addie loves going to walk with her dad; just the two of them having their special time. Peter enjoys taking Lilly Bell to ballet on Saturday mornings or to swimming lessons, giving them some special time just for the two of them.

I have other special memories with my dad:  my sister and I going to the golf course with him, walking with him while he played golf; having him take us out to sell Girl Scout Cookies; going on plane trips with him; all of us going on picnics and to Stone Mountain. It’s not only the big events that create the best memories but the everyday things that form the fabric of our lives: family meals, walks, time together. Both of my parents are gone now, but the memories remain forever; they gave me the foundation for building my own family.   

Father’s Day is one of those often glossed over holidays, not given the attention of Mother’s Day – fewer cards sent; fewer long distance phone calls; fewer gifts. Yet good fathers’ are not to be taken for granted.        

         

Allan with Peter and Katie on our Cape Cod
 adventure 1998, the summer of touring colleges,
 a stop between Princeton and Harvard .

 Fathers get a bad rap on television shows and in movies where they are often put down as inadequate. It’s an image that needs to change to fit with modern fathers who are actively engaged in their children’s lives, spending time with the children, talking to them, reading to them, working hard, and giving wise advice. It shouldn’t be a competition of who is the best - between man and woman – father and mother – but a unity of family. Mother’s Day and Father’s Day should both be special. I am thankful that I was blessed with a wonderful father; that my husband has been a wonderful father to our children; and that our granddaughters have a wonderful father in our son and son-in-law.

FAMILY AND THE BATTLE OF KENNESAW MOUNTAIN

            It was a hot summer June day near the mountain in Cobb County. It had been raining but the rain had stopped, puddles dotting the landscape. My great-great grandfather, Isaac Peterson Collier, was there in the trenches with his fellow soldiers in Company K 5th regiment Georgia from Upson County. He had lost a brother in the battle in the past few days but he continued to fight. On June 21, 1864 in the heat of battle, an artillery shell came into the trench from which he and the soldiers were shooting, its fuse burning. Bravely, he

picked up the shell and tossed it out, into the standing rain water, putting out the fuse. He and his fellow Confederate soldiers were saved. For his bravery, he was offered a battlefield commission to Lieutenant.  However, the commission would have transferred him to another unit and he chose to stay with his men from Upson County. Instead, he was promoted to Sergeant and continued to fight until surrender in 1865.

            One hundred and fifty years ago the battle of Atlanta was preceded by the Battle at Kennesaw Mountain and the Battle at Smyrna. In Cobb County we remember the date, not with celebration, but with commemoration of the men who fought valiantly for the South. The Civil War battles in this area are a part of our American history, and, for many of us, the history of our family members. Thanks to the work of the local Sons of the Confederacy, my ancestor is remembered in exhibit 13 at the Kennesaw Mountain Battlefield Park museum.

            The Civil War was a devastating time in our American history, a country torn apart, families torn apart, death, terror, sacrifice, but also bravery, and growth and change. I pray we will never again be a nation divided, but always “one nation under God indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”

            So, if this was such a strife-ridden time in our history, why do we commemorate it now 150 years later? For one thing, we learn from our past so we don’t repeat it. We look to the past to see how far we have grown as a nation. And we recognize the history of our ancestors. It is not an abstract history, but, like the history of WWI and II, the French and Indian War and the Revolutionary War, it is the story of our ancestors. I am here today only because God spared my ancestors, my grandfathers and my father and brought them safely through the horrors of war.

            Long ago great-great granddad Collier saved lives with his bravery at a spot that is now near Burnt Hickory and Old Mountain Road in Marietta near Kennesaw Mountain. Today, I live in a subdivision named somewhat after General Robert E Lee and from my porch, I can glimpse Kennesaw Mountain. I can easily imagine skirmishes fought on this land a hundred and fifty years ago. Today, we commemorate the1864 battles in Cobb County, looking back at the history and moving forward into a united, peaceful present and future.

CAROLINE BENNETT LONG ARRIVES AS BIRTHDAY/MOTHER’S DAY GIFT

Thirty One years ago, shortly before Mother’s Day, on May 1, 1983, I received a wonderful, precious gift: the birth of my daughter, Katie. She arrived with black hair and a sweet disposition. Now, thirty one years later, shortly before Mother’s Day and her birthday, our daughter Katie received the wonderful, precious gift of her daughter, Caroline.

At 11:12 p.m. on Monday night, April 28, Caroline Bennett Long was born at Presbyterian Hospital, Charlotte, N.C. She came into the world with a head of soft black hair, reminding me of her mother‘s arrival. Her big sister, Addie, was thrilled with her baby sister, standing outside as the family car drove into the drive-way, waiting with both sets of grandparents. Addie first greeted her mother and then her baby sister, with giggles and oooh’s of excitement.

Arriving home from the hospital, Caroline was greeted royally and took it all in with calm and sweetness. She let us take turns holding her and rocking her. She may be the second child in her family, but I can tell already she will be able to hold her own and be her own person - just like her mother.

Caroline needs to know that her mother will be a terrific role model for her and her sister. Katie didn’t fit the mold of a second child. She has always been willing to accept challenges and to be the best she could be in all endeavors: a scholar, an athlete, a friend, a wife, mother and a loving, caring Christian.

I look forward to watching Caroline develop her own personality, discovering her own talents and interests. I imagine her playing games with her big sister, having whispered conversations, playing dress up, reading lots of books, and kicking the soccer ball. I expect she, too, will hold her own with her sister, excelling in her own right.

Caroline is our fourth granddaughter and each of the girls share similar family traits and look; yet each is unique and individual. Each granddaughter is a special blessing that we cherish. In years to come, I’m sure the four cousins will be best of friends, enjoying vacations and holidays, face time and photos. Addie, Lilly Bell, Harper and Caroline – you are our darling girls; loved, cherished and adored.

LETTER TO GRANDDAUGHTER HARPER BETHLI LIPSETT

Dear Harper,

It will be a long time before you can read this letter, but it is written to welcome you to our Lipsett family. We haven’t met yet in person, but we have talked with you via Face Time on the day of your birth: March 9, 2014. Your Granddad and I, your Nana, will be coming to see you soon at your home in Arlington, Virginia.

            You were born into a digital world, with your dad, our son Peter, announcing by phone text that you would soon be arriving. We sent out a birth announcement to family and friends via email soon after your birth. And, as I said before, our first visit was a digital one, our IPad to your dad’s. As your mom, Ann-Bailey, held you, I do believe you smiled for us. We have already had several virtual visits with you.

Who knows what electronic marvels the world will hold during your life? But we will always make time for live visits with you. We also hope that you will share the family love of reading and that paper books and newspapers will never be totally replaced by the electronic versions.

During a recent Face Time visit, you slept blissfully in your father’s arms while we chatted away. Your sister, Lilly Bell, talked to us and entertained us, until it was important to have your mom put a band-aid on a booboo on her leg. No one else could see the booboo but she

was very concerned about it. In no time at all you too will play so hard that you have booboos that require band-aids. You will be playing games with Lilly Bell, walking and talking, having tea parties and being best friends with your sister. She is already very proud of you and eager to have you play with her.

            You are our third granddaughter, following your cousin Addie Long and your sister Lilly Bell, but rest assured, Harper, that you are not third in our love. You are all three tied for number one in our love and devotion. 

            Harper Bethli Lipsett, you are a beautiful, sweet, good-tempered baby. On March 9, you joined the Lipsett and Lynn families, including loving parents, sister, cousin, aunts and uncles, grandparents and great-grandparents who are all excited to love you, teach you, encourage you, and watch you blossom.

Love always,

Nana

CHRISTMAS: SIMPLE AND WITH HOLIDAY SPLENDOR

The small Southern Baptist Church of my childhood worshiped with a quieter, simpler Christmas celebration than our current large Presbyterian Church in Marietta. There was no advent wreath and lighting of the advent candles. There was no candlelight Christmas Eve Service; no living nativity such as the one we enjoyed in our South Georgia church. But there were simple decorations of greenery; we sang Christmas Carols with gusto and listened prayerfully to the Christmas story and cherished the true meaning of Christmas.

First Presbyterian Church, St. Marys, Georgia

After I married a Presbyterian, the Christmas Eve service became a part of our own family tradition. Before children and when they were very young, we were members of the First Presbyterian Church in St. Marys, Georgia, a small historic church near the intercoastal waterway. The first Christmas after our daughter Katie was born, we set out for the church in freezing cold weather. Looking back, I am amazed that, being the overprotective mother I was, that I agreed to take our little baby and toddler son out in record setting cold – minus three or so. But it was a beautiful service and the tradition has continued no matter what the weather.

Two years ago, we celebrated the Christmas Eve service with our two grown children, their spouses, and our then baby granddaughters. Allan was singing with the other choir members and I sat, with a broken elbow, holding one of the babies.  When we stood for a hymn, Katie took her daughter, Addie, from me; probably a good idea with only one good arm. Traditions are special; and they can be modified as our family grows in love and numbers.

Several years ago, one of my Face Book friends asked folks to tell her about their Christmas traditions that they shared with their children. Along with several others, I began by talking about our tradition of going to the Christmas Eve service at our church. Christmas, more than most holidays, seems to be one in which the traditions of our childhoods play a major role in how we celebrate as adults. The beautiful decorations and Christmon Tree at our current Presbyterian Church fill me with the Christmas spirit. Throughout December we sing Advent songs and await the celebration of the birth of the Christ Child. Church, whether decorated elaborately or simply, draws us to the Christmas message.

Do we carry our Christmas decorating and celebrating from our homes into the church or do we carry the Church celebration and decorating into our homes? Does it really matter? The truth is the spirit of Christmas is alive wherever we are; in church; in our homes; with other people; or alone. The secular traditions of the holiday, the frazzled days of shopping and decorating, are secondary to those of the religious celebration. Trees; wreaths; stockings; lights; ornaments; Santa; gifts; cards; divinity; cookies; and fruit cake: all are the trappings of the season. These symbols of the season are meaningless, however, without putting the Christ in Christmas. And the best part of the Christmas spirit is that it doesn’t need to be December for us to hold the message of Christmas in our hearts and in our minds and in our lives.

BREAKING WAVES AND FIREWORKS ON OAK ISLAND

Cousins together at the beach:
Addie and Lilly Bell

The two little girls, just approaching two-years-old, weren't sure they wanted to be on the beach this summer. They were hesitant; a little afraid. But by the end of the July 4^th week, our two granddaughters were laughing and playing and having a grand time. 

Lilly Bell and her baby doll enjoy morning
on the deck with her mommy, Ann Bailey

           We had a special treat for this year’s Fourth of July. Our grown children booked a house on North Carolina’s Oak Island and invited Allan and me to join them. We hadn't been all together since just after Christmas and it was such a delightful week.

          Lilly-Bell, the daughter of our son Peter and his wife Ann-Bailey, had been to the beach last summer, but still had to re-build her courage. She doesn't like touching the sand or standing in the water, but enjoyed being in the water with one of us holding her. She giggled as the waves approached her, safe in her mother’s arms.

 Lilly Bell with her mom and dad,
Peter and Ann Bailey Lipsett

Addie with her mommy and
daddy in the Atlantic

          It was a first beach visit for Addie, daughter of Katie, our daughter, and her husband Drew Long. She was hesitant of the water, not wanting to get too close. But she too was giggling in the arms of her mother as they stood in the warm Atlantic. Addie didn't mind the sand and was soon walking boldly down the beach, enjoying the wide-open expanse..

Addie with her mom and dad,
Katie and Drew Long

This Fourth of July was probably our best ever. We saw incredible fire-works displays up and down the beach; some a little too close for me, but beautiful nonetheless. The American flag on the deck blew elegantly in the brisk sea breeze. There were no political speeches; not even any barbecue; we ate seafood and walked along the pier and watched the sea gulls dance in the air.

     Cobb County, we had blue skies and sunshine from Tuesday through Saturday on Oak Island. I had intense exercise lifting little ones, walking with them along the beach, and playing in the water. It was the best fitness program ever.
   Despite the rain and storms back in

        Now we are home and I keep hearing their sweet little voices, talking, laughing and singing. It’s always nice to return home after a vacation, but our house seems to be just a little too quiet; a little too neat, with no toys scattered for play. But the memories of this incredible time with our grown children, in-law children and granddaughters will last forever.

TIME FOR FAMILY IS IMPORTANT FOR FATHERS

What can you give to the father who has everything? It’s the same thing the father can give to the children who have everything. It’s the one gift that everyone should have. TIME! It’s a gift in limited commodity; a short shelf-life; fits everyone; and need never be returned. 

Our son, Peter, with three-month-old 
Lilly Bell  at  the High Museum
 of Art, Atlanta, 2011

            In our rush and tumble, busy, busy lives, there never seems to be enough time for all of the things we want to do. But time is the one thing that we all need from those we love. Time: you can’t wrap it in pretty paper and tie with a ribbon; it’s fleeting; and ephemeral; but it’s the best gift of all.

            Our son, Peter, has just completed his MBA with an emphasis on economics. A rigorous and demanding endeavor while working full time, he graduated with a high GPA. This was a great accomplishment; but it cost him in lost family time. But I’m proud of him for still reserving as much time as possible for wife, Ann-Bailey, and toddler, daughter, Lilly Bell. Leaving early and returning after Lilly Bell was sleeping on class days meant finding creative ways to preserve quality time. Sometimes it was dressing Lilly Bell while her mom was dressing for work; or preparing her breakfast and eating with her. Week-ends meant finding as much time as possible to be together as well as study.

My Daddy,  David Collier Shattles, wearing
his Eastern Air Lines uniform and 
holding my sister, Laura, I am 
holding my baby doll.

            My father was a golfer. No, not professionally; but that was his passion; his hobby. His work, which he enjoyed, was with Eastern Air Lines. You would think that between work and golfing, he would have little time for his family. But his family was very important to him. When my sister and I were in elementary school,   he found time to be with us by taking us to the golf course with him. Neither of us turned into golfers, but we enjoyed being with him, walking the course, watching him play.

Allan with our daughter, Katie, at
Hilton Head  August 2004

            When I was on the Marietta School Board with a night meeting twice a month, Allan would take Peter and Katie out to McDonald’s for dinner. Although Allan is a great cook, they enjoyed this special daddy-child night out together. When I announced that I wasn't going to run again for the Board, both children asked if that meant giving up their special McDonald’s night. By then, they were both in high school and eating at McDonald’s wasn't that special, but the time with their dad certainly was.

           Not only is it often difficult for busy fathers to find that special time for their children, it is often difficult for children to find time for their fathers. The modern family has created such hectic schedules that from a young age children are often too busy for fun family time. When roles are reversed and the child is an adult, with their own family, it is even harder for them to find quality time with their father. A phone call or a visit is a special gift, much better than anything store bought.

            The best gifts of time are given in love; non-judgmental; non-threatening; time just being together. It doesn't have to involve anything complicated; not necessarily a lot of conversation; not even large amounts all at once. Just enough time to say “I love you; I care about your life; I value you as a person.”

            My own dad left this world much too soon. Our time together passed much too quickly and I wish there could have been time for one more walk around the golf course or one more conversation with him. The best gift I have given my children is the same one my mother gave to me: a loving father who treasures time with his children even when they are all grown up.

MOTHERS ARE NOT PERFECT

The little child who gives you a hug for no reason; who believes you can make her hurts go away; and who knows you can personally protect her from the monsters under the bed; suddenly turns into a stranger who marches into the world on her own without a backward glance and personally holds you responsible for ruining her life by speaking to her friends. Motherhood! It’s a wild and crazy journey that at times seems totally out of our control.

Me with daughter Katie at her
Bridesmaid's luncheon 2006.

        I would like to say that my two children always thought I was the perfect mom. Yes, I would like to say that; but, of course, it wouldn't be true. But as I watch them become parents and self-sufficient adults, I know that I did many things right. As I watch our daughter keeping up with her super-energetic toddler, I am amazed at her stamina and patience, even when her head hurts and she is tired. It is so satisfying to watch my little girl transform into such a caring wife and mother; and my little boy grow to be a loving husband and father.

Me with son Peter before his wedding in 2007.

       For all of the books on raising a child, there is no simple guide that fits all families. The truth is that being a mother is
hard work. And there is no such thing as a non-working mother. Whether a mother works outside the home like our daughter-in-law who is a teacher or stays home full-time like our daughter, every mother is a full-time working mom. Even when apart, a mother is always mentally with her child, thinking about the cute things they do and concerned about how they are getting along without her.

My mother, Kathryn Turner Shattles, with
my children, Katie and Peter, in 1983.

      There is also no such thing as a perfect mother. We get tired; we get angry; we run out of patience; we go out to dinner or a meeting and leave our child with a baby-sitter; we say embarrassing things and serve meals that aren't their favorite foods. But we also share our children’s snugly hugs and wipe runny noses and kiss their bruises. We give up a new dress so they can have new shoes. We go to theme parks rather than resorts and piano recitals rather than symphonies.

           Perfection is over-rated. A good mother is not perfect, yet, with her imperfections, she teaches her children life-lessons. The main criterion for a good mom is to continue to love her children, including their imperfections. A mother knows that the love she gives and receives will outweigh any flaws and imperfections.

     The best mothers are real people. They don’t usually wear pearls and a fancy dress for cooking and cleaning like on a 50’s sitcom. Sometimes they laugh and sometimes they cry. Most times they’re happy but sometimes they’re sad. Most times they speak calmly but sometimes they raise their voice. Yes, the best mothers are real people, slightly flawed, but always, always loving their children, ready with a hug and smile and a word of encouragement – no matter how old the child may be.

THE GIFT OF FAMILY MEMENTOS

      Somewhere between being really sick and being on the way to recovery, I received a spirit-lifting package in the mail. My cousin Robert had been clearing out his late mother’s accumulation of memorabilia and he generously shared photos and newspaper clippings with his cousins.

            As I sat with the pictures and clippings spread out around me, I was transported back through the years, to a time before my birth. One clipping in particular was extra special. The article, from the Atlanta Journal on March 25, 1944, was all about my paternal grandmother, Mary Dorothy Shattles. The headline read: “Atlanta Service Mother Woman-of-All Work”.

            The article began: “Superwoman, War Mother of the Year or Woman Who Lived in the Shoe – pick your title and Mrs. James Thomas Shattles of 393 Park Avenue will fit it. Mrs. Shattles has five sons in the service, each in a different branch of the armed forces, and she has two sons-in-law who are servicemen. With five of her boys gone, Mrs. Shattles still runs a busy household of 12, for in addition to herself and her husband, there are three single daughters and a son,  two children and two of her sons’ wives, one of whom has a year-and-a half-old son, who make their home with her.

            It continues: “Mrs. Shattles is a war worker who puts in a full week at the Atlanta Paper Company, making eyeshields that protect our soldiers from cutting sandstorms or burning gas. And she’s the cheering section for Mr. Shattles, a Civilian Defense block warden when he is trying to put over a current drive.”

            The article goes on to mention each of her sons and their branch of the service, including my dad, Sergeant David Shattles, “a turret gunner and flight engineer on a bomber, who has been awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross, and the Air Medal with three Oak Leaf clusters.”

            The article ended with: “It keeps a woman busy, keeping up with a family like that. But Mrs. Shattles has some leisure on Sunday, so she teaches a Sunday school class and catches up with her duties a president of the Woman’s Society of Christian Service.”

            My sister, my cousins and I have been blessed with a family legacy of Christian values and of service to country. What a cherished memento to have a sample of this legacy preserved in a newspaper article from the past.

Hapeville: Hometown of Jeff Foxworthy, Chick-fil-A, and me!

When I was growing up the name of my town was often mis-heard by strangers. Did you say hateville, they would ask? No, it’s Hapeville, named after the Hape family. It was, and still is, a friendly small town tucked up against the Atlanta city limits

It was a mostly middle-class community, with our parents working at the air lines, which were just becoming a big industry, at the local Ford assembly plant, and at small businesses or larger businesses in the city (Atlanta).

We had three elementary schools and one high school. Middle schools had not been invented yet. We went to our elementary school from grades one through seven and then transitioned into the high school.

Our town wasn’t a perfect place to live; but it was a great place to call home. Church was a big part of our lives; we had a tiny branch of the Atlanta library; a town swimming pool; parks, and a recreation center. We received a solid education; we learned manners and morals and citizenship. We played outside without fear; and ate dinner as a family. In the Hapeville of my youth we enjoyed a sense of community; of belonging; of knowing personally our classmates and our neighbors.

Kathy B. Garrett, Jeff Foxworthy, Cathy S. Lipsett and Allan Lipsett

Comedian Jeff Foxworthy wasn’t in my class; he is a bit younger. Recently, however, while my Hapeville classmate and friend Kathy Bradford Garrett was visiting me, we went to the Six Flags for its 40^th Anniversary. Jeff Foxworthy was on stage for this special celebration. Kathy and I had our picture taken with him after the show and told him we, too, were graduates of HHS. He was very down-to-earth and seemed to appreciate meeting fellow Hapeville grads. I must give a disclaimer as I refer to Foxworthy and Hapeville. He has become a success defining being a redneck. I know he couldn’t have learned this from his classmates or neighbors at HHS.

For an upcoming class reunion, our other local celebrity plays a role. We will dine on Chick-fil-A. The Dwarf House is one of those places of which every Hapeville person has special memories. If you have to ask, “what is the Dwarf House” you didn’t grow up in Hapeville. It was at this small eatery that Truett Cathy created his now famous Chick-fil-A recipe. Back then, the Dwarf House was just a wonderful family-owned gathering place with good food and friendly people. It’s the place we have to return to whenever we are anywhere near the Southside of town.

Hapeville, in many ways, is no longer the same community of my youth. The high school has become an elementary school; and the high school is now a consolidated one in a neighboring town; Eastern Air Lines, where my father worked, is no longer in existence; and the airport has moved to Clayton County. The Ford Plant has closed and there are rumors that the land will become a planned development.

Few of my classmates still live in the town anymore; many have moved to Fayette County or Henry or, like me, to Cobb. We are spread out throughout the country; but wherever we go, what ever become as adults, we are all the better from growing up in a small town called Hapeville.

HONORING OUR SON PETER ON HIS FIRST FATHER’S DAY

            I have a photo in front of me, of our son, Peter, wearing a backpack filled with his happy little daughter at her first baseball game. They are in front of the Nationals Stadium in D.C., Peter wearing his Atlanta Braves hat. Lilly has on a Braves shirt, covered by a Nationals bib. (Her mom, Ann-Bailey, is a Nationals fan). We have other similar photos of the two of them, Peter with the special baby backpack with Lilly on a family hike in the Virginia mountains; Peter with Lilly in a smaller pack at the Woodruff Arts Center, viewing the art.

            It is so heartwarming to watch our grown-up son interacting with his baby daughter. Lilly Bell is only nine months old, but she has already spent some amazing quality time with her dad (and mom).

            This will be Peter’s first Father’s Day as a Dad. He comes from a long line of loving, caring, interactive fathers. He has had a great role model in his own father and fatherhood seems to come naturally to him. Each male must find his own style of parenting, but he is guided by the fathers who have been a part of his life.

            What does it take to be a great father? Love certainly must be the first ingredient. Without that, there is no foundation for the role. Although I’m sure it must happens, I can’t imagine a father, who, upon meeting his child, does not feel a bond, a kinship, and a deep swelling of love. The other fatherly traits build on this instinctual love. Kindness, patience, nurture: all of these are important components of fatherhood. It’s also important to give discipline and instruction, offered with love. Conversations are also important; not one way monologues, but speaking and listening. Already Peter and Lilly Bell have conversations, although her vocabulary is somewhat limited at the moment. But he talks to her, reads to her, and listens proudly to her babbling, excited by sounds that are becoming actual words.

            I have a lot of pictures in my mind from Peter’s youth: Allan helping him build a racer for the Scouts Pinewood Derby; the two of them cutting the grass, as Peter followed his dad with his toy mower; the two of them going on a Scout camping trip; and Allan watching Peter in a play or a soccer match. There has always been time set aside for interaction; time for being together, sometimes as a whole family, sometimes just father and son or daughter.

            Just as Peter and his sister, Katie, were blessed with a wonderful dad Lilly is blessed to have Peter as her caring, loving dad.

THERE’S A SPECIAL BOND BETWEEN MOTHER, DAUGHTER

(I wrote and published the following column a week after our daughter’s birth; right before Mother’s Day 1983. This month she celebrates her 29^th birthday and her first Mother’s Day as the mother of her own daughter. Now, she shares the special Mother-Daughter bond not only with me but with her own daughter.)

Other mothers told me that having a daughter is very special, an experience that I didn’t want to miss. They kept telling me to “think pink” and hope for a girl.

But I already had a little boy so I knew that boys are just as nice to have as little girls and that two little boys would do just fine. My “mother’s intuition” told me that the second baby would be another male and that their daddy would have two sons to follow him around and imitate his every move.

I was wrong and I’m glad. On a beautiful, sunny Sunday afternoon, May 1 (1983), a beautiful little girl was born. And from the first moment that I held her, a special bond was formed between mother and daughter.

            When she looks at me with her dark, round eyes, already so expressive, her dainty lips forming a little “ooh” I feel that we are already communicating in a special mother-daughter way.

            As I feed her, we have delightful chats about her future. We discuss whether she’ll wear her hair long or short and I tell her that she has a mother with absolutely no talent for fixing hair.

            We talk about clothes and I tell her how beautiful she’ll look in ruffles but that she can wear jeans for keeping up with her very active big brother. I tell her about the books she will enjoy when she gets a little older, books that her mother once enjoyed. I tell her about Heidi and Little Women and other classic tales.

            And there are some things that I tell Mary Catherine that are the same things that I told her big brother, Peter, as he and I sat together in his nursery two years before. I tell her that she must become the very best person she can; that she must discover her own personal talents, develop them and use them in the best way possible.

            Mary Catherine and I discuss her future, sitting together in her nursery. We discuss the facts of life of being female – how in her future perhaps people will give females more credit for the work they do. How, when she is helping run a business like her mommy does, that people will not give all the credit to the males.

            Yes, there really is a special bond between a mother and daughter. Just like there is a special bond between mother and son. Nothing can take away the special relationship between Peter and me. But another dimension has opened in my life.

            Whereas Peter looks to his Daddy to learn how to act as a man, Mary Catherine will look to me to learn how to act as a woman. It is an awesome responsibility being a role model. It’s almost as frightening as it is exciting and challenging. Already, I see Peter imitating his father in the way he stands and the phrases he chooses.

            Standing in the kitchen the other day, watching the two of them together in the back yard, I saw how eager Peter is to do what his dad does. As Allan scooped things up in his shovel and tossed them over the fence, Peter, a few paces behind, scooped things up in his little shovel and tried hard to toss them over the fence as well.

            Like father; like son; like mother; like daughter. Our little imitators are watching and so the challenge is ours, to be the best person we can, not perfect, but as good as we can be.

            It might be easier on a mother having two sons, but I think it will be more exciting and challenging having both a son and a daughter. Mary Catherine and I have only had a week together but the bond is already formed. The other mothers were right – a daughter is very special indeed.

           

NATIVITY PLAYS PROMINENT ROLE IN FAMILY CHRISTMAS

As I take each piece from the worn, cardboard storage box, I marvel that it they have lasted so well for almost 40 years. This will be the 38^th Christmas that I have set up my special Nativity scene. It’s very traditional with special touches added from my childhood and throughout our married life.

The first piece is the stable, looking a little worn; some of the thatch is coming off the top, probably a lot like the first stable in Bethlehem. Mary and Joseph are then placed in the stable along with a cow and a donkey. I also place two special white lambs that I have had since I was a young girl with my first Nativity scene. The Innkeeper stands outside with his lantern, making sure they are settled comfortably. It’s a humble setting for a couple awaiting the birth of such a special child.

Next, I place the Shepherds and sheep into the field, off stage from the stable. I imagine the surprise of those long ago herders who were suddenly given amazing news by the Angels. The good news of the Holy birth came first to humble men in the fields, rather than to the Royalty of the land. They didn’t question the Angels, but left their flocks and went in search of the Baby Jesus.

From my storage box I take out the Angels, an eclectic assortment collected over the years. I place them near the Shepherds and their sheep. None of the Angels came with my original Nativity set, but have been gifts or former Christmas tree ornaments. They are now a special part of my Christmas tradition. Hark, the Herald Angels sing; glory to the new born King!

When we bought the Nativity in one of our first years of marriage, it came with only two wise men. A few years ago Allan surprised me with the third Wise Man as well as an Inn Keeper to upgrade my set. The Wise Men, who didn’t come to the Holy family until some time after the birth, are placed further from the stable, making their way, following the Star. I don’t have a Star in my collection; but it is always there in my mind.

I think it is interesting that the Wise men are not mentioned in the Luke 2 story of the first Christmas but are in the Matthew Gospel. Likewise, the Shepherds are not mentioned in Matthew but are in Luke’s story. Together, the two Gospels tell the story of the birth of Christ.

On Christmas Day the baby Jesus is added to the Nativity. Okay, so many years I don’t wait and have the completed Nativity throughout the Advent Season. But some years, I move the Shepherds and Wise Men closer throughout Advent and on Christmas, the birth of the Christ Child is represented by placing the manger and baby in the Nativity.

We have many traditions and holiday symbols of the season. But to me the Nativity is the most moving, the most representative of what Christmas is all about.

THANKSGIVING: FOOD, FAMILY, FOOTBALL

 

            Thanksgiving is one of those memory holidays. Whether good ones or bad ones, it’s one of those days you remember and reflect upon. When I was growing up, for example, my mother didn’t really care for turkey. Our traditional Thanksgiving dinner included dressing and mashed potatoes and other good things, but no turkey. We always had a baked hen. Hen’s can be tricky birds and one year that old hen just wouldn’t get done. Hence, one tough old hen created a Thanksgiving memory.

            In addition to giving thanks for our blessings, food, family, and football seem to be the theme of this special American holiday. I’m not a football fan, but I do like preparing the meal and having my family and friends around me. Additionally, for many in our community, feeding the hungry is also a part of their Thanksgiving tradition.

            This year, more than ever, many people have a new personal theme to this day; that of hunger.  The groups in our community who help those in need are seeing an increase in the number of folks coming to them for help. Many have never asked for help before, but loss of jobs, homes and income have brought them to the doorstep of the non-profit organizations. There is a new dilemma this year, however. The needs have increased but the numbers of people who are able to give have decreased.

            In too many homes throughout our county Thanksgiving will be just another day of too little food and too much hunger. With the donations of generous folks throughout Cobb, however, there will be food baskets filling empty pantries. In mentioning some of the groups offering help, I’m sure I will offend others who are not mentioned; just know that it is not intentional if a group is omitted. There is an abundance of generous people in our county and so many groups willing to lend their expertise and time to coordinating the donation efforts.

            One well known group that has been filling Thanksgiving baskets here for 25 years is the Center for Family Resources (formerly known as Cobb Family Resources.) If you would like to make a contribution to them or find out how to receive help, call them at 770-428-2601 or www.TheCFR.org.

            Another group of individuals who are often forgotten are those with mental health disabilities. The Cobb Community Services Board is furnishing baskets for several hundred individuals and families for Thanksgiving. To make a contribution for yourself or a group, call Mary Robeck at 770-819-9229, ext. 226. She will even come and collect your canned goods or grocery store gift cards for meats. She is also looking for folks to provide special activities and/or Christmas gifts for individuals or families or groups served by Cobb/Douglas Community Services Board. 

            C.A.M.P. in Austell is seeking donations rather than actual food. A contribution of $10 will go a long ways toward feeding a family at the holiday or throughout the year.   Their clothes closet provides approximately 12,000 gently-used clothing and household items, as well as essential items such as diapers, feminine hygiene products and school supplies. Donations can be mailed to P.O. Box 802, Austell 30168 or online at www.svcamp.org. They are located at 6289 Veterans Memorial Highway Building 12, Austell or call them at 770-819-0662.

            Last year our son and his wife, Peter and Ann-Bailey, came from Virginia to Marietta on Wednesday so they can run in the Thanksgiving Day Gobble Jog. This is a fund-raising event for MUST Ministries. They are well-known in our community for the help they provide, including food at Thanksgiving and throughout the year. For information about MUST Ministries in Smyrna call them at 770-436-9514 or check their web site at MUSTMinistries.org or for the Gobble Jog: www.gobblejog.org , or call the Gobble Jog hotline: 678-218-4521.

            On November 24 we will gather together, thankful to God for our family, our home, food to eat and fellowship with those we love. For us and for many families throughout our county and country, it has been a year of belt-tightening and budgeting, but on Thanksgiving Day we will be grateful for all of our many blessing.

WELCOMING LILLIAN BELL LIPSETT

  She is tiny, beautiful, an adorable baby. Lillian Bell Lipsett was born on September 3  at 10:28 on a Saturday evening and captivated us from the moment we met her. She is our second granddaughter but I can tell already that she will certainly not be second best to anyone. Just as each child is special, each grandchild has her own unique hold on our hearts.

Lilly has a determined spirit that has already manifested itself. She is the first child of two first children. I expect she will be strong-willed and assertive in the kind and gentle manner of a Southern lady.

We met her when she was one week old and home with her parents in Arlington, Virginia. It was a hot September day and her parents and grandparents thought it would be nice to take try out the new pram and Lilly for a short walk. Lilly, at her early age, knew it was too hot for an outing. She protested for all of the Fairlington community to hear. It was a very short walk with a happy baby quickly back inside. Her mother captured the moment perfectly for all of us when she told Lilly: “You must forgive us; we’re first time parents and we make mistakes.”

They may be first time parents but they are doing an excellent job already. Lilly's parents, our son Peter and our daughter-in-law, Ann-Bailey Lynn Lipsett, are remarkable parents already, meeting her demands with a calmness and patience that even many experienced parents lack.

Lilly is surrounded by love from her parents and her two sets of grandparents. Her maternal grandparents, Beth and Jon Lynn, of Warrenton, VA, live closer to her Arlington home than we do and are a wonderful support for her and her parents. As for us, her Lipsett grandparents, I see in our future many more trips to Arlington with a stop in Charlotte to visit her cousin Addie

FALLING IN LOVE WITH ADDIE

FALLING IN LOVE WITH ADDIE

            All it took was meeting her, holding her in our arms and our first granddaughter captured our hearts. She is not only a beautiful baby; she is a good baby, allowing herself to be passed from loving arms to loving arms without a cry or complaint.

            Addilee Ruth Long was born on August 6 at 10:15 on a beautiful Saturday morning. We almost made it in time for her birth, arriving at Presbyterian Hospital in Charlotte at 2 in the afternoon. We walked into the room and our daughter, Katie, asked if we would like to hold our granddaughter. As she placed Addilee in my arms, it was love at first sight; at first holding. Addie, as she will be called, snuggled into my arms, bonding quickly with her grandma.

            She was born on a day when the headlines screamed of historic economic decline in America. Enough doom and gloom to make us wonder what kind of world this precious child had entered and what kind of future she will have. But she was also born into a family with love for her and for each other; with parents to protect her and teach her and guide her. She comes into an extended family with a long history of strong spiritual roots and faith that will be a part of her upbringing and support.

            Addie was calm on the day of her birth, not troubled by the headlines. She seemed to feel the love that surrounded her. What will the future hold for Addilee? We can’t pretend to know. But I do know that her mother and father and her grandparents will always love her and protect her. No matter what the financial chaos of the world, she will be rich in the things that matter; the things that money can not buy.

Happy Mother's Day

Motherhood is one of those things we can define both by our actions and our emotions.

Motherhood: It’s about pacing the floor at 2 a.m. with a crying child, trying to soothe both of you. It’s about pacing the floor just before midnight when your child is out on his first solo date – and driving. It’s about pacing the floor while your child is in surgery, because you need something to do and can’t sit still and time is moving so slowly.

Motherhood: It’s about praying when your child is crying and you don’t know why and nothing you do seems to offer comfort. It’s about praying when your child is away from home that he will return safely. It’s about praying when your child is in surgery that she will be healed.

Motherhood: it’s about praising your child for sleeping through the night. It’s about praising your child for acting responsibly when she’s driving. It’s about praising your child for being brave when facing sickness or adversity.

Motherhood is one of life’s greatest blessings and one of its greatest challenges. It’s the one full-time job we accept having no real training. We are able to learn some of the basic life skills, like cooking and diaper changing and chauffeuring. But most of the special things mothers do come through on the job training. You learn to accept sticky hugs without a wash cloth, lopsided clay vases without art criticism, and words spoken in anger without retaliation. You learn the value of each precious minute of time spent with a child, teaching them, playing with them, and most of all loving them.

I am thankful that I had a wonderful mother to teach me that motherhood is one of life's greatest privileges and joys. I am so very thankful that I have been blessed with the wonder of being a mother; that I have been able to watch our two children grow from tiny babies into fabulous, self-sufficient, intelligent adults.

My message to the two in our family who are about to be mothers: I wish you much joy and happiness and wonder as you spend the rest of your life pacing, praying and praising as part of the glory of motherhood.

REMEMBERING A FAMILY WWII VETERAN

Several years ago the Marietta Daily Journal ran a story about the Sons of the Confederacy wanting to honor a Confederate Soldier who had saved the lives of his fellow soldiers during the Battle of Kennesaw Mountain. The event happened near what is today the intersection of Burnt Hickory Road and Old Mountain Road. When I read the story, I realized that the hero was my great-great grandfather, Isaac Petersen Collier. He was a part of the regiment from his home county of Upson, down in middle Georgia.

I had heard versions of this story during my childhood. But it was the work of my uncle, Joel Shattles, who brought the story to life for the family. This was not the only story that he brought to life and shared with our family members.

My Uncle Joel died recently at the age of 86. He was an amazing person. After his wife of 55 years died, he found a way to work through his grief, filling his days with writing stories for his grandchildren and great grand children. He also discovered a talent and passion for family history. After moving in with his son and his family the two of them teamed up to research our family tree.

At an age when many would not want to learn something new, he went online, connecting with relatives throughout the country. Through emails and phone calls he began connecting our various family lines. As my cousin Dick wrote in Uncle Joel’s obituary, “for 12 years he worked tirelessly trying to discover Shattles family members around the country, increasing the known family count from 75 to over 4000.”

Military service is a proud tradition in our family, going back in this country to the Revolutionary War. On Monday, November 8, my Uncle Joel was buried at Arlington National Cemetery, an honor he well deserves. During WWII, he was a part of the 15th Cavalry Division and earned the Purple Heart and many other medals. Joel Richard Shattles was the ninth of 13 children, 12 of whom grew to adulthood. Of the six adult sons, including my father, five served in the military during WWII, representing all the major branches of the armed services. The youngest son, not of age for WWII, served during the Korean War. Thankfully, all returned safely.

We are all missing Uncle Joel; but his legacy will be a vital part of our family for generations to come.

HE WAS A GENTLE SPIRIT

My father had a gentle spirit. Does that sound like a trite phrase? In today’s world I don’t think we have enough masculine gentle spirits for the phrase to be trite. Father’s Day, and any day, is a good time for me to remember my own dad and his kind and gentle spirit.

(My grandmother with my Dad, right, and his twin brother, Dan)

He was loving and kind, protective and encouraging, the perfect father to me and my sister. My father, David Collier Shattles, had Parkinson’s disease from the time I was in elementary school until his death in 1986, yet, as long as possible, he continued to work and to play golf. He didn’t complain about the Parkinson’s. I never heard him use it as an excuse for not doing the things he needed to do.

He was never rich, nor famous, yet he was an inspiration to all who knew him. He worked for Eastern Air Lines for over 25 years. The employee passes allowed him to take his golf clubs for impromptu visits to his brother, Joel, in Jacksonville or other family members elsewhere and I was often his traveling buddy. My mother and sister didn’t like to fly, so, despite the passes, we never traveled to exotic beaches or the renowned golf courses. He played on the courses in the Atlanta area, enjoying the pleasures of a sport at which he excelled.

If marriage, fatherhood, golf and his work defined his later life, his early adult years were defined by his service in the Army Air Corps. He was a hero honored with many medals and knew many close brushes with death. He was a part of the crew of the Vagabond King in 1943 as part of the raid on the Ploesti Oil Fields. Later in 1943, stationed in England with the 8th Air Force, the Vagabond King was set for another mission, when my dad developed tonsillitis. It was an ill-fated mission, with my father, the only crew survivor, having been left behind in a base hospital in England to have his tonsils removed. His faith and that of his parents was very strong, and I know that their prayers were constant for the safe return of my father, his four brothers and his brothers-in-law serving our country during World War II.

His was a kind and gentle spirit, full of love for God, family, and country. I have been blessed that the men in my life, my father, my husband, and my son, all been endowed with this spirit of love toward others.

HONORING THE JOYS OF MOTHERHOOD

Our daughter called recently - called just to share some news and chat while she was out walking her dog. We talked, laughed, caught up on things going on, and then each went back to our day. But it was a brighter day because of her call.

The night before her call, a similar one from her brother brightened my evening. They are both grown-up now, living their own married lives, but we are connected by that mother-child bond that links us to one another for life. Each contact with them, every memory, reminds me of how much I love being a mother – of being their mother.

As a child, growing up in the South, Mother’s Day was always a very special holiday. One special memory is of the Mother’s Day flower, usually a rose, although a carnation would also be acceptable. In our family, we always wore a rose on Mother’s Day. The tradition is that you wore a white rose if your mother was no longer living and a red rose if she was. I can remember my mother stopping at the florist across the street from our church to pick up flowers for us. Most years, however, we found a rose bush with blooms that we could pick from. My grandmother, who went to church with us, always wore a white rose, sometimes in a corsage. It was from her that I learned what the white rose symbolized. I don’t know when the tradition faded away, but I know I seldom see anyone wearing a rose for mother’s day.

Since 1981, I have been blessed with the joy of motherhood for myself. I wish my own mother had been with us longer to enjoy more time to with her grandchildren. She would have been impressed with the individuals they have become. Each year since 1987, I have missed by own mother on Mother’s Day. I miss the conversations; the sharing of traditions; just knowing she was there.

I have to admit, when Peter was first placed in my arms, I was overjoyed but also frightened. Would I be able to keep him safe, healthy, help him grow into his potential. Having a strong help-mate in their father made it less frightening; but still, I have to admit to being an overly cautious mother. When Katie was born two years later, I was still the cautious mother. With the second child, I have heard, mothers are supposed to be far less worried about germs and bumps and bruises. But, truth be told, I still worry about them, just not as much.

Being further away from our children’s day-to-day lives, and knowing they are responsible adults, I don’t stress like I did when they were young. I still tell them to drive carefully, however, when they are going on a car trip and other such motherly advice. They are polite and take my advice in stride. We’ve also reached the point where they tell us to have a safe trip, and other such cautions. It’s nice that they are concerned about us as we are about them.

Mother’s Day has a proud history as a holiday set aside to honor each individual mother. Personally, it is not only a day for remembering my own mother, it is a day for honoring the joys that motherhood has brought to me.