Years ago, I began keeping a daily “journal”. Frankly that’s just a pop culture word for “diary”. Hardly a day goes by that I don’t use that journal to rant about what needs ranting about and listing all the small miracles – aka blessings – that are imbedded in each day.
At first, I bought expensive leather-bound blank books in which to record my observations, and the things I wrote were designed to make me sound like a cross between Martha Stewart and Ann Landers.
What? Politically correctness has finally run amuck. Now women are offended by wolf whistles and cat calls? Are those women also offended by marriage proposals and dates?
Apparently so if you watched the news yesterday. Women all over the country were whining about these unsolicited gestures that “bombard” them while walking city streets. Oh pity the abomination!
Well, weh weh, you cry babies. Stand tall and savor the satisfaction of knowing someone appreciates the way you look. I mean why else do we spend hours on our hair and
I’ve always been a bit of a dreamer. Even as a child, day dreams occupied most of my thoughts while I was supposed to be engaged in other things – like math class, long-winded Sunday sermons, and scoldings for lack of attention during the aforementioned activities.
To this day I don’t know how to figure percentages and I once purported to be a banker! (That didn’t last long.)
Above: The only Hooker in the class of ‘65 is pictured with Gene Carouthers.—-
Hey, do you find yourself carrying out your daily “rounds” while secretly humming “Yesterday?” You know the Beatles’ 1960s tune about the time when your troubles were so far away?
I do, and while yesterday may not have been as picture perfect as I remember it, we certainly had a different set of problems as we tried to find out who we were and what we were sent here to do.
Yesterday, my high school friends did a little reminiscing as we always do when we get together. Any excuse will do. This week it was Beth Hooker Herron’s twice yearly trunk showing. Hooker is one of my favorites and you can’t be around her without laughing. And I usually come home with some frock which reeks of Hooker’s taste which is infinitely better than mine.
“it isn’t every day you have a building named or you,” acknowledged Mississippi State University’s former president, Mack Portera. He and his wife, Olivia, (my high school chum and blood sistah) were honored last week during an unveiling of the new sign for the Malcolm A. Portera High Performance Computing Center. What a team!