Boots McBlog

I love a patriotic tune.  Asking me to pick a favorite is like asking me to pick a  favorite flavor of ice cream or a fave Christmas carol.   Patritotic songs started early for me.   I knew all the words to “God Bless America” by the time I was four.   I learned both versions of “This Land is Your Land” by the time I was six…. The accepted version  and the one my mother forbade.   You know the one.  You sang it, too – the hillbilly version – “This land is my land, it it isn’t your land, I’ve got a shotgun and you don’t got one.  I’ll  blow your tail off, if you don’t get off.  This land is private property”. By third grade when I had matured past the silly song , I embraced the words and tune to  ”You’re a Gand Ol Flag”.  It quickly became part of my repertoire of songs I would sing aloud.  I would belt it out with much bravado.  (Still do).  Even then,  I liked it’s allusion to “auld lang syne” –It’s like a little star spangled mash up.

The summer of ’84,  while American athletes like Mary Lou Retton and Greg Louganis were racking up gold medals in the Olympics, I was honing my “Star Spangled Banner”  pipes.    It was my shower song (or should I say anthem?).  The bathroom acoustics made me sure I was going to sing it for a packed house someday.  This was also the summer that Memorex cassette tapes had an ad campaign which said,  ”Is it live or is it memorex?”.  In the commercial, they would play a tape of a woman singing, the sound pouring out of a speaker next to a wine glass.  The glass would shatter from the intensity  of her voice.    One day,  after quite the patriotic shower performance in my parents’ master bath,  I heard a crack against their french doors.  I pulled back the curtain to see the entire glass had shattered.  WOW!   Who knew achieving the pinnacle note of our national anthem held such power.  I was scared to death to tell my parents my amazing voice had destroyed their bathroom windows.   I kept it to myself.  I wasn’t ready for the world tour.  I wasn’t even a teenager, yet.  I wanted to stay a kid, you know.   Years later,  I found out it was the scorching heat or my brother’s football – not my amazing voice – that cracked that glass.  (Not to mention, reality set in that my singing voice isn’t that amazing, at all.) At the age of eleven,  I picked up a baton for the first time.  Which means,  John Phillips Sousa was often the sound coming from my little jambox in the backyard.  I spent years twirling that baton to the sound of 2/2 time.   Stars and Stripes Forever.  The Marine Corp March.  The Liberty Bell March.  The Battle Hymn Republic.   To this day,  I stand a little taller when I hear a Sousa march.    And I can still do my twirling competition routine.

Time passes and years later the songs above remain dear to me.  I am in awe  of the poetic lyrics of “America the Beautiful”.  My heart SWELLS with pride as I sing the final words “MY home –  sweet home” of God Bless America.    Today,  we celebrate the freedom this country affords us.   The freedom to attend the church of our  choice.  The freedom  to write or read a blog.   The freedom to be friends with whom we choose and the freedom to spend time with our families.    There will be fireworks, hot dogs, apple pie and many patriotic tunes.    May we all take time to stop and remember the sacrifices which inpsired the composition of these lyrics and melodies which will make up our playlists today.  May our playlists not only be  tagged “songs for The Fourth of July”, but may we remember they are songs for us every. single. day.    The beautiful songs of freedom.

God Bless Y’all

and

God Bless America!

our family tartan

Favorite things that remind me of my Dad -

Riding shotgun in his pick up truck.

Singing “high hopes” at the top of our lungs.

Mixing salted peanuts into glass bottled coca colas.

And this poem~

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,

When the road you’re trudging seems all uphill,

When the funds are low and the debts are high,

And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,

When care is pressing you down a bit,

Rest, if you must, but don’t you quit.

Life is queer with its twists and turns,

As everyone us sometimes learns,

And many a failure turns about,

When he might have won had he stuck it out;

Don’t give up though the pace seems slow–

You may succeed with another blow.

Often the goal is nearer than,

It seems to a faint and faltering man,

Often the struggler has given up,

When he might have captured the victor’s cup,

And he learned too late when the night slipped down,

How close he was to the golden crown.

Success is failure turned inside out–

The silver tint of the clouds of doubt

And you never can tell how close you are,

It may be near when it seems so far,

So stick to the fight when you’re hardest hit–

It’s when things seem worst that you must not quit.

- Author unknown

if i had my life to live over, i would start barefoot earlier in the spring, and stay that way later in the fall.

i would go to more dances.

i would ride more merry-go-rounds.

i would pick more daises.

~ nadine stair

My dears, forgive me for being hit or miss with my blog posts recently.  My little dance card has been quite full the last two weeks.    My mother visited this weekend and she requested I post something pretty.  It seems my last post of  funeral folly is not her cup of tea.  She prefers a cup of Lady Grey in the Rose Garden.   Today she was indulged.   She,  along with my niece,  joined me for the First Lady’s Tea at the Governor’s Mansion.    It was a lovely spring day.   I can’t wait for you to see the pics.  Also, stay tuned for shots from a fabulous fiesta I attended Friday night.  Expect updates on my lessons in grace…God, thankfully, isn’t finished with me yet.    I have so much I want to tell y’all.     For now I’m a tired belle, so I’m  kicking off the choos for the night and resting my  tootsies.    Enjoy this quick shot from today.   Hats off to a great weekend!

Cheers Y’all!