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Betty’s Week

By Betty Shearer

    Enjoyed a phone visit with Margaret Daum Pohorence of Port St. Lucie, Florida on Thursday. The first edition of her book, “Peggy Inez presents The Gully”  has been for sale in Water Valley for most of the year. She reports that the revision of the book will soon be on the market and that a revised version is now available in Blackmur Memorial Library.

    First edition books have been given to the Water Valley school libraries. “The Gulley” centers around six youngsters and is set in the old south. In an effort to save a pet, they get into serious trouble. The events leading to the saving of the pet and the security of these children makes interesting reading. If you’d like to read the book, check with the library.


  Good news came with Mrs. Helen Porter Blackburn’s subscription renewal last week. She writes, “I have been getting the paper every week, most of the time on Friday. I sure am glad since a lot of my family and friends live there; however it makes me homesick. Saw pictures of Mim Carpenter and Lilly Lois Horan in past papers. We sure have changed in the past 50 years. Wishing you a happy ho-ho.” Mrs. Blackburn lives in Bastrop, Louisiana. Thanks for writing.


  Jimmie and I hosted the bridge club’s Christmas party Thursday night, so I went on over after work. With eight members and us present, Jimmie and I were proper hostesses and did not play. When I’m not playing, I advise Hilda Broome, one of the better players in the club—now that’s a real joke. Must have done a good job though, Hilda tied for high with Sarah Russo (Coach Richard Russo’s wife.) She’s also an excellent player.

  We served party food and it was all good. Jimmie had completed the decorations and the house looked very festive—well the part that Dazey could not reach did anyway. If it’s low enough for her to reach she pulls down and breaks or destroys ornaments and greenery. I’m surprised she’s still alive, because I know she has to be swallowing some of that stuff. We put everything back in place shortly before the Thursday night guests arrived. When they left, all the low decorations were gone again.

  Members exchanged gifts at the Christmas party and they have this “cute” little game of snatch the gift.     

    Participants are numbered from one up. Number one selects and gets to keep the gift until number two decides to either take that gift or open a new package. Think it went through a couple of openings before the savage gift-snatching began. This went on for what seemed like hours.     

    Each packaged was opened, then that person went after another’s present, bringing on numerous snatches, before finally another member decided to get a new gift into the scrabble. I was number seven, selected the only gift bagged—I like gift bags. The others had been choosing their gifts because of the beautifully decorated packages. I got the most beautiful gift of the night—a Victorian Christmas tree skirt, with a matching stocking. It was ivory velvet, with gold and silver beading and embroidery. Got to keep it through numbers eight and nine. Then along comes number 10 (Hilda), and she takes my gift. I decided we’d had enough fun, so I reach for the final package, open it and find the most useful gift of the evening—a beautiful pewter cradle, holding a pyrex baking dish.     I said, “It’s over, I’m keeping my present!”  So all the fun came to a halt. Several gifts had already found permanent homes—If a gift had been in your possession three times it was yours to keep. With several gifts in permanent possession, you know how serious this struggle got. It was fun and I’m already looking forward to next year.


  Jimmie and Bill hosted the Pope Baptist Church deacons’ party Friday night—yes we had back-to-back festivities. Dishes had to be washed, tables had to be changed out, and more food had to be cooked.

  We cooked all day Friday, ironing table clothes in the intervals.

  The party room is downstairs, with the kitchen up. I’m sure I made several 100 trips up and down those stairs. My knees and calves are so sore I can hardly get up the stairs at my house—where my beds is. Bringing up the last load of dirty dishes Thursday night, I asked Bill if he didn’t think we could install an elevator—I found the perfect space for it. He admitted that in a few years, we just might have to do that if we stay in that house.

  Right before I left late Friday, we put up a Santa Claus—one that Stan Crow had made for us many years ago. Needed a decoration that Dazey could not destroy, so I dug it out of the attic and took it over (had not put it up at our house since Ed died).

    It looks so cute—I’m glad I got it out. However, I almost lost a thumb putting it into the ground. We found the perfect spot and I was holding it up while Jimmie went to the barn for the sledge hammer to drive it into the ground. I got impatient, and since we were putting it into a flower bed, which after the heavy rains we’d had last week, I thought would be easy to pound into the ground. Picked up one of the bricks, which bordered the bed, and banged away.

    On the first lick, I hit my thumb—smashed it good— and it bleed for a couple of days. I found out just how important my right thumb is—use it for turning off and on your toothbrush, fasting your jeans, buckling your belt, opening the door, pulling on socks and all other clothing,  and the list just goes on and on. My thumb was so sore that I found that many of these chores could be done using alternate digits.

  After the snowman was up, I once again decorated the table at the front entrance. Found some greenery, gold ribbon, and a couple of lanterns. Created a cute little arrangement, then went inside to tell Jimmie I was leaving for home. Did not even close the front door, so I know I was in only a few seconds, but exiting found that my arrangement was all over the yard. We found a lease for Dazey and after securing her, I put the arrangement back together—looked much better the second time. Maybe she tore it up because she didn’t like my handiwork.


    Arrived home just in time to dress and attend Faith Christian Academy’s Christmas Production, “Clueless at Christmas.” The program, presented by students of the academy, was adapted for stage by  Grace Hill Kerr. The narrator was Rebekah Hill and the cast included Christopher Hill, Rebekah Hill, Samantha Allred, Anthony Rogers, Segan Prince, Miriam Hill, Timothy Hill, Grafton Muirhead, Brooke Norwood, Briana Norwood, Christian Allen, Jonathan Hill, Lindsey Allen, and Matthew Hill. The entire program was excellent, but you know in these productions one part always stands out for me.

     This time it was Timothy Hill’s solo, “The Little Drummer Boy”—gave me goosebumps. It was a beautiful rendition of one of my favorite pieces of Christmas music. Thanks to all this fine cast and production staff for a very exciting addition to my Christmas Season.

  Was so good to see Daniel Hill, home from college for the Christmas Holidays. He’s one of my favorite young friends. Daniel handled the sound system and did an excellent job, with only one day’s rehearsal.


  After church Sunday I did not go to Mom’s. Stayed home to attend the Community Band’s Christmas Concert. Missed it! I ate my bowl of soup and then went into the den. Was to early to go to the auditorium, so I picked up some church literature that I needed to study.  Even though the material was very interesting, I fell asleep, something I just do not do. I probably can count on one hand the times I’ve napped in daylight during my adult life—these have been when I was ailing. Seemed like I’d just closed my eyes, but I still looked at my watch. Could not believe my eyes—it read 2:45. Figured it had run out of battery, so I checked other clocks in the house—they all  had the same time. I was so sad, because I was really looking forward to this performance.  Heard reports that I missed a really great program of music.


  Was so sorry to hear of the death of long-time friend, Mrs. Odell Sansom. During the many years she was secretary at First Baptist she came by the office several times a week. Then after she retired, we often saw each other. Sympathy is extended to her son, and the entire family. She will be missed.


  Lost another dear friend and long time neighbor, Mrs. Helena Brinegar. For many years the back yards of the Brinegar house on Market Street and our little house on Vaiden met at the corners—we always called ourselved backyard neighbors,. Can remember that Mrs. Brinegar would always bring delicious pies and other great food when there was an illness and at other times. Loved the Brinegars and remember fondly their son, Roger, who spent lots of time at our house. He played in a little band that Ed directed and also Ed often helped these young people with school writing projects. Those were fun times. Sympathy is extended to the Brinegar family.


  Next week we’ll print the Christmas Greeting Section and also the regular paper. It will be dated December 25 and will be delivered on Christmas Eve. I’ve checked with most of you, but if I’ve missed you and you would like to have an ad in this section, please call—you still have time to get one in.

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