Imagine:
“And that,” Ava dealt the photo onto the Duncan Phyfe tabletop like it was the final card in a high-stakes game of Twenty-One, “is a reeeaaal Southern agriculturalist, taking a fine-weather day from his crop-tending to catch some fish! He was so kind to let us take his picture, would you just LOOK at that cane pole?” She peered over her reading glasses at her bridge group assembled around the table. They stared intently at the photograph as though it were unlocking the mysteries of life and they should take care to soak in every bit of magic it had to offer them. It was Ava’s turn to host, she had made the refreshments, and they were determined to act interested.
No, this post has nothing to do with a powerful political movement that’s sweeping our country. It’s about something way more important. A totally different kind of tea party.
As the father of a beautiful three-month old little girl, I just want to make sure I’ve covered all my bases in writing about what actually constitutes a real man should I ever receive an invitation from my daughter to attend a tea party (imagined or otherwise) that she’s hosting. That said, a real man is willing to sit down for a tea party with his daughter.
By attending a tea party as the honored guest of his daughter, a real man models for her the kind of man she should be interested in dating when she is of courting age.
The only other important thing I can add to this discussion at this time is this: a real man always remembers to stick his pinky out.
Each year the Main Football Curtain comes to a close with Superbowl Sunday, and that’s not too far down the road. Therefore, I thought I would bring back a series I began last summer on “Boundary Education” using football metaphors. It’s time for Lesson #3. If you love football, feel you might need to learn a bit more about setting personal boundaries or learning how to utilize boundaries for the health of a couple relationship, begin your reading here:
Now – if you’ve already reviewed Lessons One and Two, then you probably recall the scenario we’re using to set up all our boundary setting skill practices. To summarize and briefly set the scene, you’re at a company picnic and see the one person you always try to avoid, setting up their “camp” next to your site…
Just as you are thinking strongly about whether or not to fold the blanket back up and look for another spot, you hear your co-worker approaching you and the first thing that they say is, “Wow…here we are…at a family picnic! Games for the kids, a little pool area, prizes for the tricycle race – what a set up. Our kids can’t wait to get started. So, when are you two going to get crackin’ and have your first baby?”
So, we’ve already demonstrated how you might “punt” in terms of responding to your problem colleague, and we also worked through what “taking a knee” might look like. Now, it’s time to step it up a little. It’s time to move past the neutral responses and begin learning how to make progress. I’ll show you three different ways you could consider:
Sam and Traveler at the Sooner Cowboy Church, dedicating their flag pole.
Editor’s Note: What we’ve found as our readership has expanded is that the RDC Community is full of humans with interesting lives. As our dear Earth turns on her axis, these folks are managing skyscrapers, scraping animal droppings, and dropping mail in everyone’s mailbox on their route. One of our readers, who gave me permission to share a few photos on a past Silent Sunday post, is a sheriff. He rides in the mounted patrol and his horse has an interesting story. While recovering from recent shoulder surgery, he sent “Traveler’s Story” along for my perusal and I asked his permission to share it with you. Have a story YOU feel needs to be shared? We’ll read it and work with you if it fits with our mission. ~ [kelly]
Traveler’s Story, by Sam Chestnut
edited by Kelly Roberts
The date was March of 2005. I was still recovering from a Prostatectomy due to Prostate Cancer. I heard from a friend that a man not far from us had a good looking Tennessee Walker gelding for sale. So Jean, our daughter Darla, and I went to check it out.
When we walked into the barn I saw a horse standing against the back wall of a stall with all four feet spread out, his nostrils flared, with his eyes fearful and widely open. I thought to myself, “Boy, something has just gone on here.” It was clear the horse was terrified and near panic. All of his hair had been shaved off with hair clippers and it was still early March; the weather still very cold. He was in an unheated barn with no blanket or method of keeping himself warm. He was somewhat skinny and not well kept. There were no physical scars other than his shaved mane, but it was clear the horse had been ‘through it.’
Grandmother at 15 years old, the age when she began doing all the chores and taking care of children for Dr. and Mrs. Cooper in Oklahoma City.
Editor’s Note: If you are just beginning to read these entries, you may wish to start with the first, then the second before you begin this particular work. Thanks, Red Dirt Kelly
During the summer of 1937, at the age of fifteen, I took a job in Oklahoma City caring for three children of Dr. and Mrs. Cooper. I would take the train from Tuttle to Oklahoma City, then ride the interurban to within a few blocks of Dr. Cooper’s. When I’d hear the train blow the whistle down the track [when in Tuttle] I’d start to cry because I was already getting homesick. The first summer I didn’t come home very often. I had Dr. Cooper save up my money until I went home to start to school. I started out making $3.00 a week plus room and board. After Mrs. Cooper went to the hospital to have a baby they raised my salary to $4.00 [per day].
The Coopers had two girls and two boys. I’d cook breakfast, wash, iron, clean house and watch the children. I worked for them three summers and one Christmas vacation. I always bought clothes for school with my earnings. The first year I bought a rust colored coat, black dress with a lace yolk and black shoes. I thought I was really dressed up. I made $36.00 that summer; my coat cost $16.00.
