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.