In a sidelined church
Black shutters stark
Against chalky white wood
Hundreds of ladybugs
Creep to a corner
Huddled in a mass
Of insect communion.
Copyright 11/1/2004 Stephen Hollen
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Mama's DVD
Cousins,
I have to share with you a wonderful true story about my Mama. You may remember I lost my Daddy in May to cancer. Since that time my Mama has been learning to pay bills, balance her checkbook, budget...all the things she hated to do. She used to sneak checks out of the back of the checkbook so my Daddy wouldn't find them. First of the month was sometimes a time of wailing and gnashing of teeth 'cause Mama liked to spend.
She has been doing fairly well with all this, but a couple weeks ago she went into Wal-Mart. There was a display of the DVD, "The Passion of the Christ" and a sale price of about $16. Sounds good, but she didn't have a DVD player. Well, right beside the DVDs was a real live DVD player for $59!!!! She bought both and took them home.
Of course, she didn't know how to hook the thing up, so Oh My Darlin' and I went over that weekend and hooked 'er up. I patiently showed her how to turn it on, put in a DVD and play it. I put the "Passion" DVD in and demonstrated several times. She did it right and everything was fine. I put the DVD back in the plastic sleeve and we left a bit later. We left several other DVDs for her to watch.
A week later she told me she was having problems with the DVD player. It wouldn't play the DVDs.
I reviewed the process with her and she said she did all that.
I asked if it acted funny when she put a DVD in. She told me there was one already in the player. Did she put it in? Nope. It was the one I left in.
I clearly remember putting the "Passion" back in the plastic sleeve and telling her to be sure and put DVDs back into the sleeve so they would not get scratched.
She told me in no uncertain words that I had left her DVD in the player. I said I didn't.
"I know you did and it won't play." Mama said.
"How do you know I left a DVD in it? Have you looked in the plastic sleeve?" I asked.
"No, I don't need to. The DVD player let me know the "Passion" was in the machine when I turned it on, but it won't play."
"It let you know? What did it say, Mama?"
"The little screen lights up when I turn it on and it says 'HELLO LORD'. I mash the play button and nothing happens." she told me.
Now cousins, I had to think for a moment and I started giggling. She got a little offended and asked what I was laughing about.
"Mama, the little screen didn't say "HELLO LORD" to indicate "The Passion of The Christ" was in the DVD player. When the player comes on it says "hello" then the screen says "LOAD".
"Well, I thought it was some kind of message about the movie."
She was pretty offended that I was laughing pretty hard. I told her someone was at the door and I hung up and giggle for a long time.
God works in mysterious ways. Moses heard Him in a burning bush...why not my Mama through a DVD?
Copyright Stephen Hollen 9/2004
I have to share with you a wonderful true story about my Mama. You may remember I lost my Daddy in May to cancer. Since that time my Mama has been learning to pay bills, balance her checkbook, budget...all the things she hated to do. She used to sneak checks out of the back of the checkbook so my Daddy wouldn't find them. First of the month was sometimes a time of wailing and gnashing of teeth 'cause Mama liked to spend.
She has been doing fairly well with all this, but a couple weeks ago she went into Wal-Mart. There was a display of the DVD, "The Passion of the Christ" and a sale price of about $16. Sounds good, but she didn't have a DVD player. Well, right beside the DVDs was a real live DVD player for $59!!!! She bought both and took them home.
Of course, she didn't know how to hook the thing up, so Oh My Darlin' and I went over that weekend and hooked 'er up. I patiently showed her how to turn it on, put in a DVD and play it. I put the "Passion" DVD in and demonstrated several times. She did it right and everything was fine. I put the DVD back in the plastic sleeve and we left a bit later. We left several other DVDs for her to watch.
A week later she told me she was having problems with the DVD player. It wouldn't play the DVDs.
I reviewed the process with her and she said she did all that.
I asked if it acted funny when she put a DVD in. She told me there was one already in the player. Did she put it in? Nope. It was the one I left in.
I clearly remember putting the "Passion" back in the plastic sleeve and telling her to be sure and put DVDs back into the sleeve so they would not get scratched.
She told me in no uncertain words that I had left her DVD in the player. I said I didn't.
"I know you did and it won't play." Mama said.
"How do you know I left a DVD in it? Have you looked in the plastic sleeve?" I asked.
"No, I don't need to. The DVD player let me know the "Passion" was in the machine when I turned it on, but it won't play."
"It let you know? What did it say, Mama?"
"The little screen lights up when I turn it on and it says 'HELLO LORD'. I mash the play button and nothing happens." she told me.
Now cousins, I had to think for a moment and I started giggling. She got a little offended and asked what I was laughing about.
"Mama, the little screen didn't say "HELLO LORD" to indicate "The Passion of The Christ" was in the DVD player. When the player comes on it says "hello" then the screen says "LOAD".
"Well, I thought it was some kind of message about the movie."
She was pretty offended that I was laughing pretty hard. I told her someone was at the door and I hung up and giggle for a long time.
God works in mysterious ways. Moses heard Him in a burning bush...why not my Mama through a DVD?
Copyright Stephen Hollen 9/2004
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Christmas Dreams
Somewhere deep in the hills of Kentucky
There is a place
Way down a holler
Down a road, paved
But windin' along beside
A chilly creek, not yet frozen
Past an ol' one room school
Past neighbors and kin
Yonder on past four barns
Still yet full of tobaccer.
Follow the road
Keep your eyes on the fences
They'll lead you there
Down where a small branch
Runs into that chilly creek
Turn just there and go back a ways.
There is a cabin
Perhaps just in my dreams
Good sized an' sturdy
Red metal roof half covered
With new fallen snow
Smoke wanders out
Of a tight rock chimney
A few lights are on
Mostly you see a twinkle
Of tiny lights near a window
Blinkin' an' twinkin' on a tree
Topped with an ancient angel
That survived three generations
Of youngin's an decades of Christmas times.
Park near the old barn and just look...
Barnyard covered in snow
A few crazy chickens sneakin' out
An ol' dog rises an shakes
Comes from under the porch
Tail a waggin' in greetin.
Porch swing is lonely an'
Waitin' for warmer weather.
Up the hillside holly is green
An berries red bring birds
Hungry for a holiday feast.
Your feast is waitin'
Inside, yonder where there
Is warmth, and love...
And Christmas.
Copyright 12/26/07 Stephen Hollen
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Why I believe
First of all, let me say that we are mountain folks, Appalachians and have been in the Appalachian Mountains since the 1750s. Mountain folks are simple, soft spoken and on the quiet side (I broke out of that mold). My Daddy fit that mold perfectly. He spoke little, was not one to say things like "I love you" or "I'm proud of you". He used to kid that he told Mama he loved her when they got married and if that changed he would let her know.
Mama was the gift giver, the hugger, the talker. She was the one who decorated lavishly for the holidays, especially Christmas. She was the one who bought the presents, who read us stories. Daddy just "hmmphed" when we talked about Santa and Christmas. He watched us open presents, but never went on and on about them like Mama did.
Christmas was a wonderful time, a time of food, comfort food, mountain food... family - yes lots and lots of family gatherings AND presents. Big extended families always meant lots of presents. Many were simple, many family members had little to give but everyone gave what they could. My Grandma was the best. She started buying right after Christmas so every single person had a gift under her tree.
After the family gatherings on Christmas Eve we would come home, my little brother and I would get PJs on and with the awe of a child pour a glass of milk and put out two - exactly two cookies (one from each of us). Mama told us we had to be in bed and asleep for Santa to come. We giggled and snickered, promising each other we would stay awake though we never really did.
Each Christmas I remember hearing the jingle of sleigh bells and the sound of hooves hitting our roof. I just was never able to wake up enough to go to the window and look. Sometimes we would be up at 3:00 am trying to open the presents Santa left.
Then when I was 11 years old my Daddy brought home a helicopter with a 3 foot cable and a crank on the end. He would crank like crazy and the helicopter would fly! It was a Daddy toy and he would put it up high in a closet so we couldn't get at it.
In the summer our next door neighbor Kitty took care of us while Mama and Daddy worked. I couldn't get that helicopter off my mind and told Kitty I needed to go in our house to get something. I suspected Daddy had hidden his helicopter in the tall shelved closet at the end of the hallway.
I went in and down the hallway, opened the doors to the closet and used the shelves as a ladder. When I was at the top I hung on with one hand and felt around the top shelf with the other. Several things fell out with a jingle and jangle.
I looked down... and climbed down. There in the pile of things from the top shelf were sleigh bells. I picked them up and shook them and immediately recognized the jingle I heard each Christmas as I fell into slumber. I was horrified. I was betrayed. My childhood came crashing down around my ears. I put everything back, knowing that what the bigger boys said had to be true. There was no Santa.
I never told my little brother, didn't tell anyone. I did determine to stay awake Christmas Eve and look out the window. I figured it was my Mom. She was the one that decorated and went on and on about Christmas.
The year went quickly, too quickly for an 11 year old who had grown up too fast. I was quiet during the Christmas Eve celebrations. I obediently helped pour the milk and put out exactly 2 cookies, knowing it was for naught, wondering who actually would eat them.
Mama told us we had to go to sleep so Santa could come. I teared up and cried in my pillow a bit, knowing big boys didn't cry. I cried because I knew Santa wouldn't really be there.
I stayed awake, waiting. I was going to look out this time, see the lie in person... maybe look my Mom in the eye.
After my little brother was sleeping soundly my Mama looked in. I breathed slowly, pretending to be asleep. She left. The front door opened and closed quietly.
Then the sound of sleigh bells and the thumping that I always thought was tiny reindeer hooves landing on the roof.
I quietly got out of bed. The bedroom door was open a crack and I looked out. Mama was quietly putting presents under the tree. So, who was jingling the sleigh bells?
I ran on tiptoes to my window, pushed back the curtains just enough to look out. And there he was, he was real!
There stood my Daddy, coat on, cigarette in his mouth as he made snowballs and threw them on the roof, one after another in a pattern that the next day would look like 8 reindeer had landed. Occasionally he would shake the sleigh bells quietly so 2 little boys would hear them in their sleep. The whole time he had the biggest grin on his face.
Somehow the mantle of Santa had wrapped itself around my Daddy that night as he stood there. It wrapped itself around that simple mountain man and he was transformed in my little 11 year old heart. My Daddy WAS Santa that night.
The next morning I watched Daddy closer. He had a quiet smile on his face as little brother and Mama went on and on about Santa. I never told anyone about that night for years.
Many years later I asked Daddy for those sleigh bells when I had a little girl named Kelly. I told Daddy the story I am telling you. He got up, went to his closet and brought them to me with tears in his eyes. I hugged Santa right then and there and told him I loved him. He told me "same here". As I drove home the power of who I was to become hit me and I wept. My Daddy had passed a heritage of quiet love along to me.
That Christmas I waited till my little one was asleep, The mantle of Santa fell on me as I quietly went outside and began to throw snowballs on the roof and occasionally jingled the sleigh bells.
My little one is grown now, the sleigh bells are still in my closet but they still have the same magic. Occasionally I shake them, hear them jingle...
And I believe all over again.
Mama was the gift giver, the hugger, the talker. She was the one who decorated lavishly for the holidays, especially Christmas. She was the one who bought the presents, who read us stories. Daddy just "hmmphed" when we talked about Santa and Christmas. He watched us open presents, but never went on and on about them like Mama did.
Christmas was a wonderful time, a time of food, comfort food, mountain food... family - yes lots and lots of family gatherings AND presents. Big extended families always meant lots of presents. Many were simple, many family members had little to give but everyone gave what they could. My Grandma was the best. She started buying right after Christmas so every single person had a gift under her tree.
After the family gatherings on Christmas Eve we would come home, my little brother and I would get PJs on and with the awe of a child pour a glass of milk and put out two - exactly two cookies (one from each of us). Mama told us we had to be in bed and asleep for Santa to come. We giggled and snickered, promising each other we would stay awake though we never really did.
Each Christmas I remember hearing the jingle of sleigh bells and the sound of hooves hitting our roof. I just was never able to wake up enough to go to the window and look. Sometimes we would be up at 3:00 am trying to open the presents Santa left.
Then when I was 11 years old my Daddy brought home a helicopter with a 3 foot cable and a crank on the end. He would crank like crazy and the helicopter would fly! It was a Daddy toy and he would put it up high in a closet so we couldn't get at it.
In the summer our next door neighbor Kitty took care of us while Mama and Daddy worked. I couldn't get that helicopter off my mind and told Kitty I needed to go in our house to get something. I suspected Daddy had hidden his helicopter in the tall shelved closet at the end of the hallway.
I went in and down the hallway, opened the doors to the closet and used the shelves as a ladder. When I was at the top I hung on with one hand and felt around the top shelf with the other. Several things fell out with a jingle and jangle.
I looked down... and climbed down. There in the pile of things from the top shelf were sleigh bells. I picked them up and shook them and immediately recognized the jingle I heard each Christmas as I fell into slumber. I was horrified. I was betrayed. My childhood came crashing down around my ears. I put everything back, knowing that what the bigger boys said had to be true. There was no Santa.
I never told my little brother, didn't tell anyone. I did determine to stay awake Christmas Eve and look out the window. I figured it was my Mom. She was the one that decorated and went on and on about Christmas.
The year went quickly, too quickly for an 11 year old who had grown up too fast. I was quiet during the Christmas Eve celebrations. I obediently helped pour the milk and put out exactly 2 cookies, knowing it was for naught, wondering who actually would eat them.
Mama told us we had to go to sleep so Santa could come. I teared up and cried in my pillow a bit, knowing big boys didn't cry. I cried because I knew Santa wouldn't really be there.
I stayed awake, waiting. I was going to look out this time, see the lie in person... maybe look my Mom in the eye.
After my little brother was sleeping soundly my Mama looked in. I breathed slowly, pretending to be asleep. She left. The front door opened and closed quietly.
Then the sound of sleigh bells and the thumping that I always thought was tiny reindeer hooves landing on the roof.
I quietly got out of bed. The bedroom door was open a crack and I looked out. Mama was quietly putting presents under the tree. So, who was jingling the sleigh bells?
I ran on tiptoes to my window, pushed back the curtains just enough to look out. And there he was, he was real!
There stood my Daddy, coat on, cigarette in his mouth as he made snowballs and threw them on the roof, one after another in a pattern that the next day would look like 8 reindeer had landed. Occasionally he would shake the sleigh bells quietly so 2 little boys would hear them in their sleep. The whole time he had the biggest grin on his face.
Somehow the mantle of Santa had wrapped itself around my Daddy that night as he stood there. It wrapped itself around that simple mountain man and he was transformed in my little 11 year old heart. My Daddy WAS Santa that night.
The next morning I watched Daddy closer. He had a quiet smile on his face as little brother and Mama went on and on about Santa. I never told anyone about that night for years.
Many years later I asked Daddy for those sleigh bells when I had a little girl named Kelly. I told Daddy the story I am telling you. He got up, went to his closet and brought them to me with tears in his eyes. I hugged Santa right then and there and told him I loved him. He told me "same here". As I drove home the power of who I was to become hit me and I wept. My Daddy had passed a heritage of quiet love along to me.
That Christmas I waited till my little one was asleep, The mantle of Santa fell on me as I quietly went outside and began to throw snowballs on the roof and occasionally jingled the sleigh bells.
My little one is grown now, the sleigh bells are still in my closet but they still have the same magic. Occasionally I shake them, hear them jingle...
And I believe all over again.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Winter in Beloved
Cousins,
The winter has been mild in my hometown of Beloved, Kentucky. The snow has held off except for one big snowfall in early December. That was a historic week in the journals of home as that snowfall saw the death of Homer "Bud" Clavens from up on Brushy Butt Creek.
Seems like Bud Clavens noticed his outhouse was pretty near full an' in need of the hole bein' filled an' a new hole dug. Bud got the idea of puttin' sled runners on the outhouse an' waitin till it snowed real deep to just move the outhouse to a new location hangin' over a steep ravine. He figured he would just push it to the edge, secure it an' never have to dig an outhouse hole again. Pretty good idea, as far as it went.
When it started snowin', Bud hiked the outhouse up a bit so the sled runners would be on top of the snow. Him an' his wife, Etta figured they would use a slop bucket for a few days, haul the outhouse to the edge of that ravine an' be livin' in high cotton from them on.
Problem was, Bud was out feedin' his hogs an' nature called. He couldn't make it back to the house, so he figured "one for the road" an' stepped into the hiked up outhouse.
His weight in the outhouse made the dang thing break off the jacks an' land on the sled runners. As he stood up to see what in the heck was goin' on the whole kit an' kaboodle took off on them sled runners, headed downhill to the ravine.
Bud saw where the thing was goin' an sat down, holdin' on th a Sears an Roebuck catalog that he was readin' an' grabbed hold of the sides to keep from fallin' through the hole as he bounced over the river an' through the woods!!!
Well, when he hit the edge of the ravine, he had planned to drop an old Model A Ford tire rim through the hole tied to his scarf from 'round his neck. He was movin so fast he whizzed right past the edge (pardon the pun) in the outhouse an' fell to his death over 100 feet to the bottom of the ravine.
The fall jammed the outhouse so deep into the ravine that his wife an' youngins decided it were a waste to undig ol' Homer "Budd" Clavins when he was near buried already. They threw a few buckets of dirt over the top of the outhouse an' left Bud to his eternal rest.
A lovely memorial service was held at the top of the ravine an' a mess of flowers was thrown over the side to rest on the mound of dirt below.
Homer "Budd" Clavins was 102 years old an' is survived by 17 children, 85 grandchildren an a mess of cousins, brothers an' his Mama, Eunice Poovey Clavins.
The winter has been mild in my hometown of Beloved, Kentucky. The snow has held off except for one big snowfall in early December. That was a historic week in the journals of home as that snowfall saw the death of Homer "Bud" Clavens from up on Brushy Butt Creek.
Seems like Bud Clavens noticed his outhouse was pretty near full an' in need of the hole bein' filled an' a new hole dug. Bud got the idea of puttin' sled runners on the outhouse an' waitin till it snowed real deep to just move the outhouse to a new location hangin' over a steep ravine. He figured he would just push it to the edge, secure it an' never have to dig an outhouse hole again. Pretty good idea, as far as it went.
When it started snowin', Bud hiked the outhouse up a bit so the sled runners would be on top of the snow. Him an' his wife, Etta figured they would use a slop bucket for a few days, haul the outhouse to the edge of that ravine an' be livin' in high cotton from them on.
Problem was, Bud was out feedin' his hogs an' nature called. He couldn't make it back to the house, so he figured "one for the road" an' stepped into the hiked up outhouse.
His weight in the outhouse made the dang thing break off the jacks an' land on the sled runners. As he stood up to see what in the heck was goin' on the whole kit an' kaboodle took off on them sled runners, headed downhill to the ravine.
Bud saw where the thing was goin' an sat down, holdin' on th a Sears an Roebuck catalog that he was readin' an' grabbed hold of the sides to keep from fallin' through the hole as he bounced over the river an' through the woods!!!
Well, when he hit the edge of the ravine, he had planned to drop an old Model A Ford tire rim through the hole tied to his scarf from 'round his neck. He was movin so fast he whizzed right past the edge (pardon the pun) in the outhouse an' fell to his death over 100 feet to the bottom of the ravine.
The fall jammed the outhouse so deep into the ravine that his wife an' youngins decided it were a waste to undig ol' Homer "Budd" Clavins when he was near buried already. They threw a few buckets of dirt over the top of the outhouse an' left Bud to his eternal rest.
A lovely memorial service was held at the top of the ravine an' a mess of flowers was thrown over the side to rest on the mound of dirt below.
Homer "Budd" Clavins was 102 years old an' is survived by 17 children, 85 grandchildren an a mess of cousins, brothers an' his Mama, Eunice Poovey Clavins.
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