Sorry!

Our son's three younger children came to spend Sunday afternoon with us.  The youngest, our 3 year old granddaughter, was soon settled in for a nap, while the youngest boy had wandered off with Papa to help with the afternoon chores.  I had no sooner popped a pork roast into the oven for supper when the middle boy appeared in the kitchen.  "Can we play Sorry?  Please?" 

He and I have been holding the longest running Sorry tournament in history, since we started when he was about five years old. 

He skipped Candyland as too slow and boring (I agree) and begged to play his older brother's Sorry game.  "But, Sugar, it takes a long time." I protested.  "I can do it!  I promise!"  he replied.  He couldn't read, but quickly memorized the move instructions on each card.  He knew that the 7 card could be split between two men, the 10 card was forward 10 or backward 1, and an 11 card meant he could trade places with an opponent.  At first, I tried to make sure that he had successes so he wouldn't be so frustrated but I soon got over that.  The little shark is good!!!  It didn't take him long to figure out the strategies of the game and apply them with a vengeance.  "Sorry!!" he would howl as he sent me back to start time and again.

In the ensuing three years he would beat me repeatedly and soundly!  I want to take this kid to Vegas.  He has unbelievable luck...or he's just a lot better at Sorry than his old grandma!

So, Sunday, I got down the Sorry game, cleared off the coffee table and got my most comfortable cushion.  We set up the game and put the rule card to one side.  We are serious players and refer to the rules frequently to see what we can and can't do.  Then we got down to it!  The game ebbed and flowed with him getting all his men out on the board first, then me hitting a couple of "Sorry" cards that sent him back to start.  We debated the wisdom of exchanging places if that put the opponent closer to home, counted moves to determine the best placement of our men, hoped for a "backward 4" so we could shortcut to the "safety zone" and crowed our delight at a lucky draw.  At the end of the game, to the cheering of hubby and the six year old who had returned, the 8 year old drew the perfect card and marched his last man home for victory.  Beaten again!

His younger brother immediately decided he wanted to play, too.  So we started a new game with three players (Hubby decided to watch a ballgame instead--surprise!)  The game advanced with both of us "experienced" players giving the younger one advice on moves and rules.  Again it ebbed and flowed with first one ahead then another.  The younger boy had progressed quickly to having his men on the board, when his brother drew the Sorry card.  This meant that he could come out of home, replace any man on the board and send that man back to their start.  Since the younger one had the only men on the board the decision was easy and unavoidable.  "That's not fair!" he moaned, looking frustrated.  I explained that, unfortunately, that was the rule, but his turn would come to get us back.  Then I laughed and asked him "Do you know what the name of this game is?"  He looked up at me as his brother and I both chanted, "SOR-REEY!!"  He grudgingly laughed with us and the game continued. 

At the end, all three of us were within the safety and only a lucky draw away from being the winner.  The draw had gone around and around with only cards showing up that we couldn't use.  Then it was my turn again and I drew a "split moves 7" that enabled me to move my last two men in! 

I threw up my arms in excitement. "I finally won one!!!", I crowed.  "JoJo", came the serious admonishment from the grandson, "You always tell me that celebrating your win isn't  nice!"  Shamefaced, I agreed that it wasn't nice.

But inside I was still doing my happy dance!  I'd finally beaten the little shark!

The Plant That Ate the South

Not long after our daughter married, we were touring around the state acclimating our new son-in-law with the area that his wife called home.  The scenic drive to various spots of interest included a lot of small, winding roads.  Iowa is so straight that I suspect our passenger was feeling a little green on the endless curves.  Rounding one particularly tight curve we exited into a surreal landscape right out of a sci-fi movie.  A green curtain blanketed both sides of the road, covering trees, shrubs, road signs, and even telephone poles, with tendrils creeping across the lines themselves.  It was like a wall of oddly shaped, deep green, impenetrable growth.  With a start, my son-in-law inquired, "What IS that!!" 

"That, son," I replied, "is the plant that ate the South."

Kudzu.  The science experiment that went terribly wrong.  Like the plant in "Little Shop of Horrors" it just keeps yelling "FEED ME!" then devouring everything in its path.

The plant actually came from China by way of Japan at the end of the 19th century.  It was introduced as an ornamental vine at the Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia in 1876.  It was marketed widely throughout the southeast as a plant to be used to shade porches.  In just a few years the Soil Erosion Service was recommending its use to help control erosion on slopes.  It did an admirable job on both fronts.  The only problem was keeping it from covering the whole house not just the porch or the entire field not just the slope.  The government got into the act and actually paid farmers to plant kudzu as a high protein fodder and cover crop.  By 1946 it was estimated that over 3 million acres of kudzu had been planted!  Little did they know that we would spend the rest of our lives trying to get rid of it!

Today there is an estimated 7,400,000 acres covered by kudzu.  It continues to consume the south at a rate of about 120,000 acres a year, destroying fences, trees, barns, houses, power lines, fields and any stationary object in its path.  Kudzu can grow up to 60 feet in a season or about one foot a day.  To make it more fun, anywhere a stem of kudzu touches the ground it can root and become a whole new plant.

Not only is it incredibly fast growing but it is almost impossible to kill.  It takes huge quantities of herbicides to damage it and it must be treated for years to actually kill it off.  Biological methods were studied but any weevil or insect that would damage the kudzu would also damage crops.  (At least the powers-that-be checked before just introducing a whole new problem!)  To date the best control is to let goats and llamas feed on it.  A small herd can reduce an acre of kudzu every day. 

It's hard to believe that a plant can grow like this does.  However I have seen first hand how quickly it can move.  My daughter and I parked our car at a motel in Gatlinburg that backed up to a mountainside covered with kudzu.  The parking spot was sided by a rock wall, which I parked beside.  The next afternoon when we went to move the car I discovered the kudzu had come over the wall and was actually inside the back door!  Creepy!

My father's homeplace had kudzu planted on the back porch to provide shade.  He remembered that every morning the first person out would have to break the door open because the vine would have grown over the door during the night.

My son-in-law gazed in wonder at the green covered landscape.  Coming straight from the cultivated farmland of Iowa with its neat fields and controlled crops, I'm sure he had trouble believing what he was seeing. 

I've seen it for years and I still have trouble believing it myself. 

Dog Days of Summer

The last couple of weeks have been so hot that I actually have worn some sleeveless tops.  That's hot folks, because all summer I wear sleeves, wraps, even sweaters, as I shiver in the air conditioning.  In our climate controlled world about our only experience with the heat is as we trot from our air conditioned cars to an air conditioned building.  (Farmers even have air conditioned tractors!)

My kids probably don't remember ever not having air conditioning.  (We did survive a couple of years on the farm before adding central air but we still had a room air conditioner.)

It was a different world back when I was growing up.  (This is not an "I walked 10 miles to school.." saga, but almost!)  Remember, my mom was the one that vowed not to return to the farm until she had electricity and running water, guaranteed.  It's amazing how quickly things change.

The first building air conditioned was.....the New York Stock Exchange. I guess that's a place you need to "keep your cool"!  That was 1902.  A man named Alfred Wolff installed a system using a waste-steam-operated refrigeration system.  He called it "comfort cooling".  It operated successfully for 20 years. 

1902 also saw the first office building air conditioned...the Armour Building in Kansas City, Missouri.

It was 1929 when the first room cooler goes on the market.  This refrigeration unit used sulfur dioxide as a refrigerant and had a capacity of one ton (12,000 BTUH) and was located outside of the house or in the basement.

By 1931 the first year round central air conditioning systems were on the market.  However, cost kept them very exclusive until the 1960's, when they became more affordable in new homes.

By 1947 window units were being mass produced.  That year 43,000 were sold in the U.S. 

I was born in 1949.  We didn't have a window air conditioning unit.  We had fans. I grew up in the '50's and '60's.  I vividly remember the one friend who had a window unit.  We would all crowd around the unit and let the frigid air chill us.  It was a rare treat as the unit was in her parent's bedroom!

Having air conditioning has completely changed the way we live. 

Before AC everyone spent more time outside.  It was just cooler under the shade trees than inside in the stifling heat.  Kids left the house and hunted a cool place to play.  My favorite spot was under some massive hydrangea bushes beside a neighbor's house.  There we would gather in the cool dimness and design imaginary homes and build roads and houses in miniature cities out of leaves and twigs.  When a mother decided we needed to be checked on, she would produce a pitcher of lemonade or koolade and we would flock to the front porch swing to sip deliciously cold drinks.  Nothing comes close to the feeling of a slippery, drippy, cold glass on a hot day.

Cars weren't air conditioned and being sweaty was just a fact.  People didn't stress over it.  Ladies learned to wear cotton dresses that wouldn't show "wet" with a drastic color change.  Light pastels and darks seemed to work best.  I remember we had a plastic mesh seat cushion for the driver's side that was about 1 inch thick.  The purpose was to give you some space for air to circulate so you didn't arrive at your destination too damp.  We also had floor vents that could be opened to let air rush in.  It would blow your dress up to indecent heights, but oh, it felt so good!  Everyone rode with the windows down and the air blowing in.  It gives you a whole new appreciation for the "helmet hair-dos" of the 60's.  Enough teasing and hairspray and a tornado wouldn't move it.

Meals would generally be light and cool, especially as the kitchen heated up during the day.  Supper would be fruit and cottage cheese, cold cut sandwiches, jello salads, meat salads, or my favorite, frozen fruit salad and lots of sweet, iced tea.  After supper everyone would gravitate to the yards where the air was noticeably cooler than the hot air trapped in the house.  The adults would relax under the shade trees or on the porches, often with a small chore that could be done outside.  Daddy might tinker with some small repair while mom would snap beans or even fold clothes.  Neighbors would drift by to visit or share some garden bounty.  The kids would gather for games of kick-the-can, hide and seek, croquet or badminton. (If you lived in the country you had to make-do with your siblings as playmates but you also had creeks to cool off in!)

As night fell you would retire to your bed and hope for a cool breeze.  Most homes had a window fan that would be used to pull air in the open windows.  If you were lucky, you had a big attic fan that would create delightful drafts of air as it pulled the hot air out and the cool nighttime air in.  I talked my mother into making my bed up from the bottom, so I could sleep at the foot in front of the open window.  I loved lying there in the moonlight listening to the evening sounds from outside.  A distant dog bark, a meandering cat's yowl, cars passing, music from a radio in someone's house, soft conversations from lingering adults, katydids chirping their wings together, whippoorwills calling everyone to bed, owls hooting the beginning of their nighttime hunts, and the crickets and frogs adding their chorus to the concert.

Yep.  It was a different world.  Now we stay inside and watch television or play on the computer.  We text, talk and message from one air conditioned spot to another.  We wear sweaters if we are going to a public place. 

Would I give up my air conditioning?  Heck no!  It also means that people are less cross, cranky, sleep-deprived, and just plain ornery.  I'll keep my air conditioning and just slip on this sweatshirt, thank you.

But I do miss the fellowship and friendliness of those soft, summer evenings.

Another Anniversary

Sunday Hubby and I celebrated our anniversary.  While sitting quietly watching the Ohio River flow endlessly by, hubby turned to me and asked.  "When we married did you ever think you would be married nearly 50 years?"  I thought for a minute then smiled.  "Sure.  I thought we'd be married happily ever after....I just didn't have a clue how long that was!"

We married over a Labor Day Week-end, before everything was air conditioned.  The church was packed and steaming hot.  They say.  I don't remember it.  I was pretty much a mannequin for the day, carefully dressed and posed by my mother and aunt.  Back then brides didn't have much to do but show up when they were supposed to for showers, luncheons, parties and the big day.  We wrote thank you notes and smiled a lot.  Mama and Aunt Anne were in charge of the plans and decisions.  After all, it was my parent's party--we were more of the theme for the day.  Brides today have a lot more input...but it suited me.  What did I know about planning a party for two to three hundred people?

The reception was at my Aunt's home, a gracious setting with a beautiful yard.  The food was certainly simple by today's standards of dinners and lavish buffets.  We had cake, punch, finger sandwiches, nuts and mints. Period.  No liquor for the guests, but the cousins all gathered on the porch off the kitchen to flavor their cups with the bottle my older cousin had thoughtfully stashed.  The bride and groom didn't get to join them as we were too busy in the receiving line and posing for pictures.  However, I'm pretty sure my dad and uncle did.

Just as we finished with the obligatory pictures of feeding cake to each other and posing with various relatives, my aunt pulled us to the side and informed us it was time to change into our "going away" outfits and leave so the guests could depart also.  A little different from today's brides partying into the night.  We dutifully changed and were cheered off through a shower of rice and well-wishes.  We jumped into the waiting car and drove down the street.  Suddenly, we felt a little lost and forlorn. For the first time in weeks, no one was there to tell us what to do.  We were on our own.  It was exciting...and a little scary. 

Little did we know, that feeling would pretty much describe the next 46 years...exciting and a little scary.

There were lots of high times.  The birth of our children, the purchase of our first house, the satisfaction of paying off our first car, the contentment of quiet nights together, the fun of backyard ballgames, the rewards of seeing your children become good parents and adults, the peace of looking out over your own land at sunset.  There were low times too...three miscarriages that tore our hearts, a sickly child that kept us worrying at night, years of wondering if we could make ends meet, the helpless pain of seeing your children deal with heartaches, sicknesses that would take loved ones as well as sicknesses that struck us.  Through it all we found our strength and support was only a hand-reach away. 

Did I know what life would hold all those years ago when I dreamed of "happy ever after"?  No, but I couldn't imagine it without my shining knight by my side. 

Still can't.