Hot Georgia Summers and Childhood Memories

Oh, how thankful I am for air conditioning! It's such a blessing on these hot Georgia days. I don't know how we ever lived without it, but it wasn't too long ago that we did.

As a child, we didn't have air conditioning. We grew up in a two story cinder block house on a large wooded lot with beautiful Oak and Pine trees. Thinking back now, I'm so thankful for all those trees! Their lovely, leaf laden limbs helped cut down on some of the sweltering heat that bathed our house each summer. The only way we had to cool down was to run around half naked, play in water from the garden hose, flip on our attic fan, or open every window wide. Usually, we did a combination of all those things but there were some days nothing seemed to work.

I remember marveling at the hard, dry, cracked red mud from lack of rain and seeing the steamy haze of heat rising from it. We could barely wait for evening to come so things would cool off a little. As soon as cicadas started to sing, we knew it wouldn't be long before we'd get a little relief.

I was so thankful our old house had real tile floors in the kitchen and the living room. That tile was so cool to our bare feet in the summertime, although I hated the way the floor always felt dirty and gritty no matter how many times Mama swept it. We were always tracking in dirt with our little feet.

The attic fan didn't do much for us during the day other than move around the hot air. In the evenings, after dark, with our open bedroom windows, the fan would often draw in a little breeze that would gently flow across our bodies as we lay on top of our covers trying to get cool.

One particularly hot summer, none of us could get comfortable. We fussed and whined and complained until Mama told us to go get our pillows. We thought she was going to let us sleep downstairs so we ran to get them, but she had something else in mind.

I remember standing in front of her in my little white undershirt vest and my panties, the coolest thing I could wear without going completely nude. She took a large spray bottle and began squirting my pillow. When she got one side sprayed, she told me to flip it over. I did and she sprayed away. I had no idea what she was planning, but I was obedient. She did the same for my siblings. Then, she told us to take our pillows and put them in the deep freezer which was in our garage. So we did.

I don't remember what we did for the next thirty minutes or so, but we waited. When enough time had passed, Mama got our pillows out of the freezer and handed them to each of us telling us to go on back to bed.

Carrying that chilled pillow up the thirteen stairs to the second floor of our house, was a blessing! I could feel the coolness against my little chest and it felt amazing.

When I reached the landing at the top of the stairs, I turned right and headed to my bed. Laying the pillow on my bed, I crawled up on the mattress, lay down, and fell asleep.

Mama was pretty ingenious! Who would have thought to do something like that?

Now, we buy cooling gel pillows! I have two in my room right now. If Mama'd had the resources, I'm sure she could have invented those and become rich!

Last night, as we were closing the garage door I heard the low, rhythmic hum of cicadas start up in the cluster of trees across the driveway. It made my heart smile.

Cicada

I'll never forget my hot childhood summers and I have no idea how we survived without air, but we did. Thankfully, I don't have to worry about that now unless we have power outages or something. I don't think I could make it. I've become less tolerant of the heat now that I'm older.

Thank God for the person who invented air conditioning. He's spoiled us mighty good.

Sometimes I just want to pull my hair out

Sometimes I just want to pull my hair out, especially when I read a friend's blog post and I just can't wrap my head around it. This morning, I was reading a post from a fellow breast cancer survivor. She said her cancer has returned and is growing in her spine. As soon as I read the words, I burst into tears. I just didn't understand! We'd been diagnosed with the same type of cancer in the same year. How could it be that her cancer had returned and mine had not? And what made it even more difficult to understand and accept was the fact that she'd chosen to go the traditional treatment route. I'd opted not to do that. She'd endured chemotherapy, radiation, and the anti-hormone therapy afterward. I'd refused chemo, had done 28 rounds of radiation, and had only taken the anti-hormone drugs for a couple of months. It just didn't compute and it certainly didn't seem fair. But that's what sucks about cancer. It doesn't follow the rules.

Cancer the gift that keeps on giving - the high cost of cancer

There's a basket of bills sitting in the corner of my bedroom. I try not to look at it as I enter the room but I know it's there. Its contents spill out onto the floor whenever my husband stuffs another bill into the basket. Usually, when the mail comes, he gets it first so he can filter what I see and what I don't see. Since he's the only one working, he takes care of our financial responsibilities and while I'm thankful for that, I'm not ignorant about our mounting bills. Cancer is expensive. Even if you've reached maintenance phase, it's costly. There are always tests to be run, blood to be taken, doctors to see. It never ends. Just knowing this will be a continual process for the rest of my life frustrates me and the alternative, death, will be my only way out. It would be nice to know that cancer could be a once and done kind of thing but that's only wishful thinking. Everyone knows cancer is a long and very involved illness. I had no id

Incoming!

When I was a kid, I remember listening to my Daddy occasionally talk about being in the service. Those occasions were very rare so whenever he'd talk, I'd really listen. Once he told about being outside a bunker in Japan. He said planes were flying overhead and he heard a guy yell, "Incoming!" They knew that meant it was imperative to take cover and they did, but some of the soldiers weren't fast enough. They lost their lives in a split second. That one word was a very serious warning and one I never forgot. I think my eyes bugged out of my head when he first said it although he didn't say it in a frightening way. I imagined the sounds of aircraft overhead as the warning went out. And imagined how I'd have felt if I'd been right there with him. I'd have been petrified, probably unable to move. No wonder so many soldiers came back from war with post traumatic stress syndrome (PTSD). And when they were freshly home, it didn't take much to set t

Journey Out of Pink

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