Blast From the Past: February 29 ... Li'l Abner ... and Sadie Hawkins Day ....

Billie and Keith Johnston, my parents, as Li'l Abner and Daisy Mae, February 1947 (more pictures below)

Ah ... a cursory check of my calendar finds Friday, February 29 "scheduled" this week. Leap Day/Leap Year (LD/LY) generally occurs every four years, but not always. Take my word for it ... there is a loooong, archaic, arcane formula used to determine just when LD/LY does or does NOT occur ... but I'd hate to lose anyone reading at the beginning of this rumination. The explanation made my eyes cross ... and I have always been partial to trivia and arcana. However, for those who may be skeptical of my assertion, I offer the following brief illustration of my point....

The Gregorian calendar in general use around the world (Rosh Hashanah, Chinese New Year and other solar/lunar/lunisolar measurements of time notwithstanding) was instituted by Pope Gregory XIII in a papal bull (or decree) on February 24, 1582 to revise the Julian calendar developed by Julius Caesar in 46 B.C.E. (Before Common Era, a/k/a B.C.). The new calendar added an extra day to Februarius in most years evenly divisible by four, except that years "which are divisible by 100 are not leap years, unless they are also divisible by 400, in which case they are leap years." See what I mean? Your eyes and attention should be drifting out of focus about now. So, let's forget the formula (sorry, Mr. Shaw) and just focus on the fun aspects of Leap Day and its kindred phenomenon, Sadie Hawkins Day.

The first thing which springs to mind in connection with LD/LY is the wistful contention by those born on that day that a birthday falling on February 29 technically makes a man or woman of 64 "only" 16 years old ... technically, I said. Reality, of course, as in many things in life, is the killjoy ... and the mirror unfortunately will disabuse any notions nurtured by a leapling (a Leap Day baby) that time has somehow magically stayed its depredations in deference to Pope Gregory.... (Note: The concept of a leapling birthday was used as a plot device by Gilbert and Sullivan in their operetta The Pirates of Penzance. But I digress....)

The more interesting tradition concerning February 29 is found in several Western cultures, including our own. For centuries, English Common Law, the basis of our American legal system, did not even recognize February 29 as a "legal" day, and for a time, contracts signed on that day were held to be invalid, while many crimes and infractions were not even prosecuted. In addition, a tradition sprang up in Celtic countries whereby on Leap Day, since the usual legal conventions were inoperable, women were granted the right and power to propose to men.

There is folklore positing that St. Patrick (whose own day is coming up fast) and/or Brigid of Kildare (whose day has already passed ... in more ways than one ... grin) began this practice in 5th Century Ireland, when Brigid complained about the injustice of restricting the right of proposal to men, and Patrick determined that to rectify this wrong, women would be allowed to propose every four years, on Leap Day.

One of the first written confirmations of the tradition dates to 1288, when Scotland enacted a law allowing a woman to propose to the man of her choice on February 29. Included in the law was a proviso that any male who declined such a proposal had to "pay" a fine, which could range from a kiss to the purchase of a new dress or some other mollifying gift for the lady. It is said that women who intended to propose were expected to wear a scarlet petticoat as a warning to those of the male persuasion whose paths she might cross.

Imogene Pannell, Sadie Hawkins Day 1961

In our own country, the "gift" of the power of proposal to women sometimes causes Leap Day to be confused with ... or at least linked to ... Sadie Hawkins Day, which made its debut in Al Capp's iconic comic strip Li'l Abner on November 13, 1937. Capp, who "birthed" Li'l Abner and his Dogpatch community in 1934, described Sadie as "the homeliest gal in all them hills." When Sadie remained unmarried and attained spinsterhood (oh the shame!!!) on her 35th birthday, her father Hekzebiah Hawkins, despairing that he would ever be rid of her, assembled Dogpatch bachelors and announced that when he fired his gun, they had best commence a'runnin'. When the gun was fired a second time, Sadie would begin chasing them, and the "lucky man" she caught would be required to marry her.

Shirley Neel, Sadie Hawkins Day 1961


Although it was not Capp's intention to make Sadie Hawkins Day an annual occurrence, his initial strip was so well received, and generated so much fan mail, that he followed this story line for years. And every year, if a Dogpatch femme sole (single woman) could manage to capture a single man, and then drag him back to the race's starting line before sundown, the couple was forthwith "hitched" by the preacher, Marryin' Sam, in one of his special $2 weddings, paid of course by the girl and/or her grateful parents.

Each year in the cartoon, the beautiful and voluptuous Daisy Mae Scragg doggedly and futilely pursued her true love, the title character Li'l Abner Yokum. And even though Daisy Mae never caught Li'l Abner, Abner did finally propose to Daisy Mae in 1952, in response to public sentiment. Their "wedding" became such a media event that the couple was featured on the cover of Life magazine. In 1953, Daisy Mae gave birth to their only child, Honest Abe, thus making a grandmother of the redoubtable, corncob pipe-smokin' moonshiner, Mammy Yokum.

Capp's colorful and imaginative characters took up residence in America's consciousness and the strip was a "must-read" for decades ... not only for its putative "backwoods" humor, but also as sly social commentary. Who could fail to empathize (if not directly identify) with poor old Joe Btfsplk, the down-on-his luck jinx who was always illustrated with a black cloud over his head? General Bullmoose was created by Capp in 1953 to reflect the quintessential cold-hearted, bottom-line fixated capitalist. Earthquake McGoon, the precursor of the wrestling craze in the early 1950s, made his first appearance in the strip in the 1930s.

Coach Joe Warren, Sadie Hawkins Day 1961 ... honored guest for the CHS Class of 1963 Reunion in Las Vegas

Stupefyin' Jones, played by the truly stupefyin' Julie Newmar in the 1956 Broadway musical and subsequent 1959 movie Li'l Abner, was drawn (she never spoke) as being so gorgeous that she could (and did, frequently) freeze men in their tracks. Dogpatch's homegrown hero, Civil War General Jubilation T. Cornpone, was memorialized in a statue much visited (and decorated) by pigeons. The Indian Lonesome Polecat and his friend Hairless Joe brewed batch after batch of the stupefyin' Kickapoo Joy Juice. Moonbeam McSwine, beautiful but desperately in need of a Dial soap moment ("Aren't you glad you use Dial? Don't you wish everybody did?"), generally preferred the company of swine to men, and was possibly a proto-feminist (grin), although I doubt that such a concept ever entered Capp's mind. Senator Jack S. Phogbound was the smarmy, corrupt Southern politician. (Read or say "Jack S." quickly, run together, and you'll get an idea of what Capp was saying.)

In 1948, the lovable, amorphous Schmoos, with their incredibly generous and helpful natures, became the largest mass marketing success of the era, as well as national and international sensations. Indeed, early in the Cold War, at the time of the Soviet blockade of Berlin and the answering Berlin Airlift by the U.S. and its allies (June 24, 1948 to May 11, 1949), Schmoos were attached to many of the air drops into the beleaguered city because of their worldwide recognition as figures of good intentions ... and because of their "usefullness" since a Schmoo could literally be anything you wanted or needed, including food, water and Kickapoo (or other) Joy Juice.

Darryl Morris, Sadie Hawkins Day 1961

It is a testament to the popularity of Capp's cartoon strip that the idea of Sadie Hawkins Day caught on like the proverbial prairie fire in American culture, particularly in the South and Midwest, empowering prefeminist women once a year to ask a man to a Sadie Hawkins dance or on a date, if not to propose. In 1939, a mere two years after the first Sadie Hawkins strip, Life magazine reported that coeds were chasing boys on at least 201 college campuses, and the event soon became a popular annual occurrence in high schools across the country as well.


James Claude Holton, Sadie Hawkins Day 1961

And so, the tradition passed to those of us at Childress High School during our incarceration ... uh, sojourn ... there. Indeed, our 1962 yearbook The Bobcat prominently featured photos of teachers and students alike in character for Sadie Hawkins Day, and we now share some of them with you. We hope you will enjoy (and comment on!!!) this latest stroll down memory lane.

And you unattached ladies out there ... put on that red petticoat and a comfortable pair of Reeboks ... and take your marks....

)O(

Images from Thailand ... Bralee ... and the "Spirit Houses" ....

All photos and copy by Yahn Smith

The world can be such a beautiful place, filled with visual magnificence, one can not help but be repetitious when describing it. Thailand is both visually and intellectually overwhelming. The Thai people were warm and friendly, very happy to show anyone the wonders of their country. As with 95% of our travels, I would go back there in a New York minute if I could.

Photo to the left "Floating" pavilion at the Thai Royal Summer Palace.

One of the really interesting things about Thai architecture are the bralee which are the upturned hooks on the corners of the roofs. They are intended to catch bad spirits as they fall to earth from above. Even the little "spirit houses" that you see all over the country, have them. These beautiful miniature houses are to entice good spirits and/or luck to stay at your house by providing them a quality residence of their own. You cannot see it in this picture but there is a small offering table in front of the spirit house(see photo on the right). These are taken very seriously and you almost never see one empty. In fact, Thailand donated a very elaborate spirit house covered with tiny mirrors to Caesar's Palace here in Vegas. You can be sure that offering table is never empty, nor is any fountain in the city. Thais and gamblers are both strong believers in being good to the spirits.

The Grand Palace, Bangkok on the left

Serenity at the Grand Palace, Bangkok on the right

One of the Khmer ruins at Ayutthaya (the white figure in the doorway is an adult)

Posted by Jennifer Johnston Smith at 12:59 PM

1 comments:

Sheila Davis Martinez said...
Yahn, thanks for sharing your more than perfect photographs. I can even feel the spirit of the people as if I were actually there.
March 4, 2008 12:06 AM

'Cat Tracks: Thai a Yellow Ribbon ... More Bangkok for Your Buck ... and the Wai .....

All photos by Yahn Smith

Gold Stupa at the Grand Palace, Bangkok, right

Back on October 28, 2007 I published a topic post titled "'Cat Tracks ... On the Road Again ...." thus neatly "borrowing" part of my title from both Willie Nelson and Jack Kerouac (mentioned in the post). In that piece, I was discussing a planned road trip, which is one of my favorite things. If Yahn and I are together, we have a wonderful time talking and, if the conversation lags, I read to him to help pass the time (anything from magazines to novels), commentary on which always sparks more conversation. If I'm traveling alone, I always enjoy listening to "my" music, singing along with it as closely as possible to the correct key, drinking in the scenery on the way (without wandering too far from attention to the road into reverie), and having long conversations with myself and (one or more of) my alter egos. Win-win.... (grin)

Since the inception of the blog, Yahn and I have mentioned several things about the trips we have taken together and Nicki (bless her!) has made the same (possible ... grin) error in judgment that Morris and Carol Higley and Darryl Morris made many years ago ... she's encouraged me/us. (Blast From the Past: Westerns ... "Star Trek" ... and "As You Like It" .... posted February 15, 2008.)

So ... in talking with Nicki about upcoming blog posts this week, we thought it might be fun (perhaps even inspiring) to continue the "'Cat Tracks" theme, not only to relate the tales of Yahn's and my travel experiences, but also to encourage everyone who reads the blog (that means YOU!) to contribute stories of your travels ... the things you experienced, the people you met, the things you saw and did, and the impressions or lessons you absorbed by being outside your comfortable cocoon of everyday living.

The trips don't have to be out of the country or off the continent. As I am frequently reminded, there are so many things to see and do in our own country. Raenell in particular has wonderful memories of the trips she and Jim have taken to Branson, Missouri (alluded to in her Show and Tell post on January 28, 2007), and to other great places. And now that I mention it ... we DO so want you guys out there to write for "Show and Tell" too. (See Nicki's post We Need You! , published February 15, 2008.) I know Linda Kay, Linda Key Rothwell and Clara would be able to contribute to the travelogue, and there are others, certainly including (but not limited to, as we used to say in legalese) Mike and his wonderful tales of all his world trips in connection with his job, Darryl from his years in the Army, and Phil Tutor "speaking" on his adventures related to his ministry.

Please, please ... send any travel stories you want to tell to me, or to Nicki, for inclusion in future "'Cat Tracks". Pictures would be great, too, if you want to share them. Nicki and I do so love putting up posts and stories by others ... it gives us a rest, and keeps us (as I've said before) from just blathering away at each other. (grin) We DO need you to help keep the blog "rollin' rollin' rollin'...."

And now ... since Yahn and I have talked a lot recently (and farther back) on the blog about our trips to Egypt (but believe me, there is lots more to tell), I give you the story of our trip to Bangkok ... illustrated with the gorgeous photos taken by Yahn while we were there. There are additional photos of Thailand with accompanying text by Yahn in the "Short Notes" section (Images from Thailand ... Bralee ... and the "Spirit Houses"....).

********

At 8:00 a.m. Friday, June 25, 1999 Yahn and I took off into a clear blue sky on the first leg of our trip to Bangkok (Houston Intercontinental to San Francisco, San Francisco to Hong Kong, Hong Kong to Don Muang International Airport). It was our first landing at Hong Kong's new international airport (Chep Lap Kok), and I must say it was a lovely experience ... although I did suffer a certain nostaligia for the nail-biting, panic-inducing landings made at the old Kai Tek airport, where the flight paths came down through corridors of high rise apartment buildings, and you could see and pretty much wave to the occupants if you could stop gripping the seat long enough.

After being in transit for some 25 (25!) hours, we finally staggered off the plane in Bangkok at 10:00 p.m. Saturday, June 26 ... having by that point stomped on and obliterated our last nerves. Fortunately the airline in its infinite wisdom had generously upgraded the Hong Kong-Bangkok portion of our trip to Business Class, where the slightly mellowing effect of the free champagne probably prevented us from doing actual bodily harm to ourselves or others.

There was a car and driver awaiting us after we cleared Customs and we were whisked to our hotel, the Shangri-La, on the banks of the Chao Phraya (the River of Kings), where we gratefully, if not gracefully, collapsed into a dead sleep.

We arose (reluctantly) bright and early the next day to have breakfast before going on the half-day sightseeing tour provided as part of our incredibly reasonable air-hotel package. That morning, and every morning during our stay, we indulged in the Shangri-La's sumptuous buffet breakfast, enjoying our coffee and croissant and assorted other goodies on the terrace, watching the river come to life. The Chao Phraya is a "working" river, the major artery of Bangkok, and the best way to get around to avoid the horrendous traffic jams on the streets.

After breakfast we were met by our guide, Anchali, who was absolutely drop-dead gorgeous, as so many Thai people are. We acknowledged her greeting to us by reciprocally performing the wai. The wai is executed with palms pressed together as in prayer, reminiscent of the Indian Namaste, with an accompanying bow. The higher the hands are held in relation to the face and the lower the bow, the more respect or reverence the giver of the wai is showing to the receiver. [Side Note: In Japan, bowing when meeting or leaving someone is a true ritual, again involving the depth of respect accorded the person to whom you are bowing, and it's best to try to hit a happy medium, without overdoing or underdoing it. When we were there in 1986, we entered a store ... and the store clerk bowed to us, and we bowed to her, and she responded with another deeper bow, which we returned ... if we hadn't come to our senses and stopped bowing when we did, we all would have been somersaulting down the aisle in another bow or two. But I digress....] The wai is also used when thanking or apologizing to someone. Anchali then took us on a private tour of Wat Benchamabopit (the Marble Temple), Wat Po (the temple which houses the gigantic golden Reclining Buddha..see photo on the left) and Wat Traimit (the temple of the solid gold Buddha).

The solid gold Buddha (previously mentioned on the blog in "Bobcat Treasure: Gold ... King "Tut" and the "Lost Buddha" ....", posted October 20, 2007) is not only breathtaking, but has an interesting history. It was apparently lost for about 700 years, and you may well ask: How can someone lose a five and half ton solid gold Buddha? Well, it seems that once long ago, while Thailand was being invaded (yet again) by the Burmese, an enterprising Buddhist monk covered the Buddha with a concrete-like plaster to save it from being stolen and carried back to Burma. However, for some unknown reason, it was simply forgotten that a large gold Buddha was inside all that unprepossessing plaster until the figure was being moved in the mid-1950s, when it was accidentally dropped and cracked open to reveal the serene golden Buddha, waiting patiently for all those centuries for its "reincarnation".

Our second day in Bangkok, we rented one of the ubiquitous "long-tail boats" and sped off along the river and through the canals (called klongs). At one time, Bangkok was known as the "Venice of the East" because the klongs were the major means of transportation around the capital. In recent years, many of the canals have been filled and paved, but there are still enough of them to make interesting sightseeing, conveying an idea of centuries of life on the river, frozen in time. At intervals, when things looked interesting, we stopped and disembarked the boat. I almost ended up in the Chao Phraya more than once ... sometimes I have difficulty navigating across flat, wide spaces of terra firma, so stepping up or down from a rocking boat was a true challenge. We also took time to tour the lovely Wat Arun (the Temple of the Dawn), the huge floating "garage" for the Royal Thai Barges, and the massive and beautiful Grand Palace enclosure, where we visited the Temple of the Emerald Buddha (it's really jade) and marveled at the other sights of that fascinating site. Needless to say, it takes a bit of orientation (no pun intended) before you really begin to figure out which wat is what (pun definitely intended)!

During our sojourn we also took a day trip to Ayutthaya, the ancient capital of Thailand (known for centuries as Siam ... remember the movie The King and I, with Yul Brynner and Deborah Kerr?). After much internecine warfare between Siam and Burma, Ayutthaya was sacked and burned a few hundred years ago, at which time the capital was moved to Bangkok. The Khmer ruins which remain at Ayutthaya are stark and hauntingly beautiful, and you find yourself sliding seamlessly into complete immersion in the pervasive sense of history and timelessness.

We traveled to Ayutthaya by bus in the early morning, then after touring boarded an elegant boat owned by the Shangri-La, where we were served a lavish lunch and drinks while drifting lazily back to Bangkok, observing the peaceful, serene countryside and the towns along the river.

At intervals, we left the confines of our wonderful hotel (hard to do, I must say) to just walk around, observe life in the streets and interact with the people of the city, who are gracious beyond words (or possibly beyond belief, given the level of rudeness which seems to have become prevalent in many places). Of course we did spend quality R&R time at the hotel pool and the hot tub, both of which are alongside the Chao Phraya and allow colorful views of the daily river traffic. Other sybaritic pleasures included indulging in a full-body, one hour aromatherapy massage (which could be taken at poolside or inside the hotel's health club), a manicure and pedicure ... ALL ... ALL, I say ... for about $23 TOTAL (!!!) given the exchange rate at the time.

A couple of evenings we just retreated to our room, called room service and had a quiet, romantic dinner watching the psychedelic sunset from our balcony overlooking the Chao Phraya. We also took in a dinner and show at Salathip, which featured classical Thai dance and traditional dishes. For those looking for nightlife, there are numerous discos and a variety of music clubs, running the gamut of musical tastes. And ... if you really want to walk on the wild side, there's Patpong, which makes the French Quarter in New Orleans look like a church social, although I do understand Patpong may be a little "cleaner" since we were there.

Of course, shopping was high on our agenda! There are many unusual and exquisite things to buy in Bangkok, for not a lot of money ... although you can certainly break the bank if you are so inclined. At the time of our trip, Asia was undergoing an economic crisis (kind of like we are now) and, although the dollar no longer goes as far in Bangkok (or a lot of places) as it did then, you can still find great buys. If you're interested in jewelry, you can get wonderful prices on sapphires and rubies (rubies! ... see Bobcat Treasure: Rubies ... Mystic Powers ... and Valentines .... , posted February 4, 2008) in custom-designed settings. We really liked the handmade temple masks, which we brought back for several of our friends. High quality Thai silk is another great bargain, and you can purchase silk scarves and neckties, or you can have a dress or suit completely tailored for you in just a couple of days. We also bought some intricately hand-carved teakwood pieces to decorate our walls. You should have seen us schlepping them back on the airplane ... those things are heavy!!!! Best, of all, Thai handicrafts are exempt from the limits of the usual U.S. Customs duty-free allowance which apply when you return from abroad.

Thailand is gorgeous ... serene and uber-exotic. The Thai people are gentle, charming and fun-loving, and for the most part, quite friendly and helpful. As in any large city or unfamiliar setting, you should exercise caution where strangers are concerned, but there is not a high level of danger or antipathy to travelers ... specifically, to Americans ... as there is in some parts of the world. The population is 90-95% Buddhist, with the remaining small percentage divided among Muslims, Christians, Hindus and others. Thailand is quite tolerant of its minority religions.

If you go, you would do well to remember a few points of etiquette. Thai people are passionately proud of their royal family (the royal color is an intense yellow) and do not take kindly to jokes or slurs made about their beloved King Bhumibol (Rama IX), currently the longest-reigning monarch in the world, or Queen Sirikit. As a historical note, Rama IX is the descendant of Rama IV (King Mongkut ... played by Yul Brynner in the aforesaid The King and I) and Rama V (King Chulalongkorn, the Crown Prince in the movie).

In addition, when you enter a temple, you must remove your shoes. While in the temple you should be careful not to point your foot (or feet) at the Buddha; there are attendants who ensure that this stricture is observed. Indeed, it is considered bad manners to point your foot at anyone, since the Thai people consider the foot both literally and figuratively the "lowest" part of the body. Similarly, it is held to be "bad form" to touch or pat a person (even a child) on the head because that is the "highest" part of the body. A woman should never sit next to, touch or hand anything directly to a Buddhist monk (see photo on the right); anything which needs to be given to a monk by a woman should first be given to a man, who can then pass it to the monk.

We stayed in Thailand for seven nights, and wish it could have been longer. I would like to have gotten down to the coast to Phuket (hit by the terrible tsunami of 2004, but up and running again), which has incredible beaches and rock formations on the Andaman Sea, or up to Chiang Mai, which is cooler and mountainous. I also would have liked to take an overnight trip to Angkor Wat in Cambodia. Oh, well ... if Yahn is ever able to fly again, we will be there!!! Not to seem ungrateful, I do so appreciate the wonderful experiences we did have.

Oh yes. On our return trip we got to do Saturday July 3rd twice ... thanks to the International Date Line. We saw the sun rise on Saturday morning, just as we were taking off from Bangkok ... and then we got to see the sun rise again, over the Pacific Ocean, just before we touched down in San Francisco at 8:00 a.m. ... that same Saturday morning! Disorienting, to say the least .... (grin)

View of the Chao Phraya River, Bangkok, early in the morning, from our hotel balcony

)O(

Blast From the Past: Westerns ... "Star Trek" ... and "As You Like It" ....

Victory Dance, painting by Frederic Remington

In September 1961, the start of my Junior year at CHS, I signed up for Journalism (an elective) under the aegis of our blog friend and periodic contributor Darryl Morris (also our Junior English teacher), who was then a new teacher at CHS. I was absolutely thrilled (really and truly, beyond my hopes or expectations) when Darryl named me Feature Editor of The Corral, our student newspaper, that year. (Them that don't expects, don't get disappointed ... an expression which might have flunked me in Darryl's English class.)

Not too long into the semester, Darryl brought me a couple of columns, "On Campus", written by the great Max Shulman, the creator of Dobie Gillis (who had many loves) and fabulous characters such as Maynard G. Krebs ... WORK?!?! (Contrary to rumor, Glen "Teedle" Sanders did NOT take, or at least keep, Maynard G. Krebs as a role model....) Darryl asked me if I thought I could write something like Shulman's work. I read the columns, loved them, and dutifully told Darryl that I would do my best.

So began almost two years of writing my "humor" column (at least I hoped it was humorous) "As You Like It" ... a title filched from the great William Shakespeare ... who as noted in my comment to Linda Kay under my blogpost "Valentine's Day ... Words of Love ... and "The Butterfly Lovers"... (published February 12, 2008), was not terribly reticent when filching from others. Hey ... at least with Shulman and Shakespeare, I figured I was in great company. (grin) As my darling Yahn says, only steal from the best....

Writing "As You Like It" ... trying to come up with a "new" topic every week ... and then trying to turn the topic into something which might cause at least a few to "grin" while reading (kinda like writing for the blog) ... became my best experience in high school. I must admit (LK and Sheila) that band did run a close second, but of course the "solitary" act of writing didn't have anywhere near the camaraderie we enjoyed on the band bus, despite my lifelong habit of talking to myself ... out loud ... as myself and in another persona.... (See Linda Kay's topic post: "Friday Night Lights: The Sound ... and the Flurries...?", published January 27, 2008.) Writing became a true passion for me ... when it was not total terror as I looked at a blank page and contemplated the full weight of the meaning of "DEADline" ... which would also come to play a HUGE role in my career as a paralegal.... But I digress....

Toward the end of that school year, I was approached by Carol Higley, who with her husband Morris owned and published The Childress Index. Carol asked me if I would like to work during the summer for what was then the "daily" Index, and learn some things about actually working and writing for a real newspaper. (I still do a mean wedding and obit.) Carol and Morris also wanted me to continue to write "As You Like It" once a week. Oh boy!!!! Would I like to??? How much would I have to pay THEM to attain this halcyon dream??? I almost fell off my chair when Carol said they would PAY ME!!!! O brave new world ("borrowing" again)....

Carol even ran a little notice in the Index the day I started: "Jennifer Johnston, popular [me???] columnist for The Corral, Childress High School publication, has joined the staff of The Index for the summer. Among her duties will be to write her column "As You Like It".... It is written especially for young people. But we think adults will enjoy it, too. Miss Johnston will be a Senior in the Childress High School this Fall." Summer 1962 ... 3M summer ... Maris and Mantle and Marilyn.... I had my first "real" job, making the goddessly sum of $50 per week ... which really wasn't all that bad in those days. The Higleys (particularly Carol) were very generous to me in many ways, and I will always think of them with love. And, in my Senior year at CHS, I did realize my dream of becoming Editor-in-Chief of The Corral.

In going through some things recently, I found some of my old columns, and thought you might like to reread them. (I am of course assuming you all waited breathlessly each and every week for a new one, way back when, and therefore this will be a reread ... grin). So, launching another ongoing blog series like "Bobcat Treasure" and "The Times of Our Lives", Nicki and I thought it might be fun to share with you my somewhat jejune scribblings from that time ... teenaged angst to the max, sturm und drang, warts (NEVER!) and all.

Journalistic integrity (there is still some left) requires that I recreate the columns here, exactly as I wrote them, and as they were printed (sans typographical errors, of course ... I hope). I have successfully resisted the temptation to edit, rewrite and edit some more ... to tinker, or tweak, or think "Well, this could be better if I substituted...." Every cringe-worthy attempt at turning a phrase remains intact. Please be kind in judging these columns, dear readers ... I plead youth and idiocy (redundant, I fear).

The first column I've decided to publish here (by special request of our friend Mike Spradley, who assures us he will reappear on the blog soon) is the one about Westerns ... specifically television series Westerns ... not getting into the old cinema classic Westerns like Red River, The Searchers and Rio Bravo. You remember them ... we cut our figurative teeth on Roy Rogers' television show, and Davy Crockett with Fess Parker ... and the TV stalwarts Wagon Train, Gunsmoke, The Lone Ranger (featuring a Native American sidekick, "faithful Indian companion Tonto", played by Jay Silverheels), Zorro (featuring a "Latin" hero played by Guy Williams), Have Gun Will Travel (featuring a mustache attached to Richard Boone), Rawhide (before Clint Eastwood became "the man with no name" in a sub-genre, the "spaghetti" Western, with the "rollin' rollin' rollin'" title song done by Frankie Layne), and so many others.

What a good many of us lacked the maturity to recognize then was that the good TV Westerns arguably reflected our society at the time in microcosm, particularly some of the less than sterling aspects of it (racism, sexism, McCarthyism, etc.). Each week our favorite series presented a morality tale within the boundaries of a half hour or one hour format, giving us not only the stoic, upright heroes who populated them as role models, but food for thought as our nation morphed from one national mindset into something more diverse and sometimes darker in the 1960s. Those old TV Westerns also inarguably influenced popular entertainment in the late 1960s, and beyond. Gene Roddenberry, the creator of the wildly popular (and long-lived) Star Trek series, said that Star Trek (Kirk, Spock and company) was actually conceived to be Wagon Train in outer space. Many of the plots of the TV Westerns, like many plots today, were derivative (not to say filched) of others, so anyone who was paying attention (and watched a lot of television) could not help but be aware of the similarities in many of the plot lines. But again I digress....

So, without further ado (or "much ado about nothing" ... groan) I give you "As You Like It" ... this one written in the summer of 1962 (sometime after Newton Minow's description of television as a "vast wasteland", referring specifically to the increasingly violent Western ouevre) ... when I was 15 years old. If you hate it ... or the things I've written for the blog ... you can blame Morris and Carol Higley and Darryl Morris (there's a certain symmetry in those names) ... they actually encouraged me....


Eric Fleming as Gil Favor and Clint Eastwood as "Rowdy" Yates, in Rawhide


As You Like It
by Jennifer Johnston

To get to the point, my topic for today is television. You know -- that little box that sits in your living room or den -- around which the family gathers every evening, never to be moved. More specifically, the topic is television programs, which will be fully discussed in various articles over the next two or three weeks.

Let's start with Westerns. There are Westerns on every channel, every evening. Now I'm not against Westerns. I just wonder why they all have the same major plot. You know, it all goes something like -- First, we have the stolid older hero; then we have two or three younger heroes. Now these heroes meet up with a kid -- a victim of society, naturally. Everybody's a victim of society these days. Well, it seems that the kid's dear daddy was hanged for being a horse thief. Now everybody else knows that Popsie WAS a horse thief, except for the kid and Momsie. So all these years, Momsie has told her dear sonny-boy that Popsie was a victim of society -- see what I mean? And what is more, the stolid, upright, narrow-minded townspeople won't let Kiddio forget his old man was a horse thief.

So naturally the kid hates the world. And naturally he becomes a gunslinger. And naturally he decides that he's going to rub out the Judge that sentenced dear old Dad.

Now we meet the Judge. As you've already figured out, the Judge is a sweet, lovable old man who thinks of duty first. He CAN'T be a hanging judge because then the audience would understand the kid they're not supposed to understand. So the kid gets a job working for the heroes so he can study the Judge, who naturally is a good friend of the heroes.

However, living among such sweetness and light, the kid decides he's been wrong about the Judge, so he takes a full bullet chamber home to Momsie. Now of course the audience becomes aware of the fact that Momsie is a war-monger -- more specifically, a nut for killing. More specifically, a plain, everyday, tutti-frutti NUT. However, the audience feels sorry for her because they know that she knows her husband WAS a horse thief, and is just a victim of society herself. Anyhow, when "dear boy" comes back empty-Judged, she raises the thatch. She browbeats the kid so much that he heads for town, bent on wiping out the Judge.

Somehow, the heroes hear about this and try to head him off. Of course they never find him until he's right in front of the Judge's house screaming for the Judge to "come out and die like a man!" So the heroes give him the old spiel about "You can't do this." So he decides to wipe out the heroes first.

Now of course the heroes don't draw because they have faith in the kid's better nature. (They also have faith in the fact that they have a two-year contract with the studio.) So, as the kid takes careful aim, a shot rings out -- or rather, a blast crashes through the quiet streets -- the kid bites the gravel, and the heroes wheel around to see Momsie holding a smoking shotgun. She has finally come to her senses and "just couldn't let him do it." Well, then she runs over to the kid, who looks like a sieve. The kid naturally lives long enough for her to tell him that his Dad WAS a horse thief, that she has been wrong, that it was her fault, and that she was sorry. Then the kid tells Momsie it's all right, thanks the heroes for trying to help him, coughs a little and dies, as Momsie goes into hysterics and is gently led away by the heroes.

I don't care if the kid gets shot between the eyes -- he lives long enough to play a good old dramatic-type scene every time.

So, to use an old phrase, tune in for our next episode, all about crime in the big city, brought to you by ME -- who else? Snarf.

)O(

Valentine's Day ... Words of Love ... and "The Butterfly Lovers" ....

Woman penning a Valentine's Day missive to her love ... Pen and ink illustration by Yahn Smith

Gentlemen and Ladies, start your engines! Two more (not necessarily) shopping days until V-Day ... so I thought a little reminder ... and a little story ... might be in order to properly prepare and possibly inspire you....

First, however, I must tell you that Guinevere the Druid Goddess so wanted to join us in the celebration of this auspicious day ... I know she had great plans for it ... but the poor dear is probably completely worn out, and definitely is among the missing (temporarily, I hope). Imbolc was a flaming success ... and then Chinese New Year ... explosions and fire!!!! How cool is that??? Unfortunately, the last time I saw her, she was totally entwined with the lead Lion Dancer from the Hong Kong parade, swilling rice wine and making a public spectacle of herself ... again ... and then ... poof! When I could see through the smoke, they were both gone! Perhaps gambling in Macau ... or being pampered at one of those sybaritic beach resorts in Thailand ... or literally off on a cloud somewhere.... I hope you'll accept the substitution of my humble (grin) self in her stead.

So ... a few words about Valentine's Day ... and about the thoughts, and specifically, the words of love ... which are the traditional underpinnings of this occasion celebrating the unfathomable depths of emotion which can exist between two people. The day itself is named after at least two Christian martyrs (Valentine of Rome and Valentine of Termi ... take your pick), but became associated with romantic love at the time of Geoffrey Chaucer during the High Middle Ages. (Fun Fact, with a nod to Nicki: It is estimated by the U.S. Greeting Card Association that more than one billion valentines are sent worldwide each year, and that women purchase eighty-five percent ... 85%!!! ... of them.)

Ancient Romans celebrated fertility on February 15, in a festival known as Lupercalia ... and I am reminded of William Shakespeare's words spoken by Marc Antony (no romantic slouch when it came to Cleopatra) to the funeral crowd in Julius Caesar: "You all did see that on the Lupercal I thrice presented him a kingly crown, which he did thrice refuse." Can't say that anyone's ever presented me with a kingly (or queenly) crown, but I have duly marked and noted ... and have my "infernal" memory, you know ... other tokens and professions of love.... But I digress....

Cards, flowers and candy have become standard offerings to a loved one ... although it is generally conceded that words of love to express romantic feelings for the day may have first appeared in a Chaucer poem (Parlement of Foules, 1382) which commemorated the first anniversary of the engagement of King Richard II to Anne of Bohemia, two lines of which are rendered here (in present-day, rather than Chaucerian, English):

For this was on sent Valentine's day
When every bird cometh there to choose his mate.

Indeed, for hundreds of years, valentines were usually handwritten love notes and romantic stories, penned by a lover to the object of his/her affection, rather than borrowed sentiments "canned" by Hallmark Cards in Kansas City. So it is that I make a "radical" (me?) proposal to all of you (gender nonspecific). This Valentine's Day ... do the unusual ... or the traditional, if you like. In addition to (you notice I did not say in lieu of ... you don't get off that easily!) the red roses, and the Godiva, and the champagne (and the rubies ... don't forget the rubies! ... see "Bobcat Treasure: Rubies ... Mystic Power ... and Valentines" posted February 4, 2008), take pen in hand (all right, keyboard and mouse, if your handwriting is illegible) and write something for your beloved ... from your heart, from your soul, from the inner, vulnerable you.

Doesn't matter if you can't spell, doesn't matter if you're not a poet (although it's a big plus if you have that facility), doesn't matter if it's long or even just a heart-swelling, kvelling, significant and meaningful word or two or three ... just do it! I promise your lover will remember your words forever ... long after the flowers have wilted, the chocolate and the hangover are gone, the card has been relegated to a drawer somewhere, and even the rubies are reserved for occasional wearing. Words of love ... the greatest, most indestructible, least expensive yet most priceless of Valentine's gifts because they will live always in your beloved's heart and mind.

Having said that, in honor of the day set aside for lovers, I will tell you the story of Yingtai and Shangbo, "The Butterfly Lovers" of Chinese legend, commemorated in "The Butterfly Lovers" concerto by Chen Gang and He Zhanhao. (In the concerto, which is perhaps the most widely-known in China, and has also been performed internationally, the male is represented by the cello and the woman by a violin.) As is the case with many legends, there are slightly differing versions of the the story, but this is the tale ... in my own words, from my heart and untrammeled spirit to my love ... as I believe it was whispered to me by a matched pair of butterflies, once upon a lovely day....


The Butterfly Lovers .... Liang Shangbo and Zhu Yingtai
(梁山伯與祝英台 ... often abbreviated and combined as Liang-Zhu, or "梁祝") ....

During the period of the Eastern Jin Dynasty of China (317 to 420 C.E. ... Common Era, a/k/a A.D.), in the lovely town of Hangzhou (100 miles south of Shanghai) a young woman, Zhu Yingtai, prevented by Chinese custom from receiving an education on a par with that accorded to men, disguised herself and gained entrance to a prestigious school in the town, without the knowledge of her parents. At school, she met a young man, Liang Shangbo, and they became fast friends. During the three years they studied together, their relationship deepened and Yingtai fell in love with Shangbo, although of course Shangbo never suspected that Yingtai was in fact a woman.

Detail of painting "Autumn Lantern" by Shanghai artist Xie Qiu Wa, owned by Yahn and Jennifer Smith

After graduation, the two friends parted and Shangbo returned to his poor village, but Yingtai found herself missing and longing for Shangbo to the point of desperation. So Yingtai, again unbeknownst to her parents, contacted Shangbo's family through a matchmaker, who made arrangements with the Liang family for Shangbo to marry his old friend's "younger sister" ... who was of course Yingtai. When Shangbo traveled to the Zhu home, bearing presents for his promised bride, he discovered that his cherished school friend Yingtai was actually a beautiful woman who truly loved and wanted to marry him. Shangbo thereupon fell passionately in love with her, his ardor compounded by the deep friendship he had formerly felt for his close companion.

But when the lovers begged Yingtai's parents to let them marry, her parents refused. Although Shangbo was a scholar and a gifted writer and artist, he was poor and not of the same class as Yingtai's family. Further, Yingtai had been previously contracted to marry the scion of the wealthy Ma family. Yingtai's parents were shocked and distressed that their daughter had traversed so far beyond the bounds of propriety, and had gone to such unpardonable, unfilial lengths to arrange her own love match, which was simply NOT done in China (or many other places) at that time. The lovers were forcibly parted, and through the machinations of Yingtai's parents, Shangbo soon found himself assigned to serve the Emperor as a court functionary in an outlying province.

Despite his efforts to recover from the loss of Yingtai, and distract himself with other lovers and diversions, Shangbo could not forget his beloved. He pined and grieved, and spent all his hours consumed with thoughts of her. He wrote such voluminous scrolls of delicate, calligraphic poetry dedicated to her, and painted her likeness so compulsively, that he lost his appetite and his zest for living, and died of a broken heart within a year.

On the day of Yingtai's marriage to Ma Wen Cai, as the bride and her family were proceeding first by palanquin and then by boat to the home of the man who would be her unwanted husband, strong typhoon winds and rain began to batter the province. The wedding flotilla was stopped by the turbulent waves and the keening wind ... indeed was seemingly prevented from continuing by preternatural forces ... and was forced at last to seek shelter in a small cove.

As the winds grew stronger and the water lashed against the boats, Yingtai was told by someone in her party that a single white tomb on the shore was that of Shangbo. After many tears and much pleading, Yingtai convinced her parents and escort to let her approach Shangbo's tomb to pay her respects, and to speak with him to placate his spirit. It is said that when Yingtai knelt by Shangbo's tomb and called his name, the tomb suddenly split apart, whereupon Yingtai hurled herself into the tomb, which then closed over her.

The gale immediately ceased, and the sun appeared, banishing the furious, stormy sky. As Yingtai's parents and servants frantically dug at the rubble of the tomb to extricate her, the tomb opened again ... and two butterflies emerged and flew together into the wide, eternal blue sky, freed from bonds of tradition and duty. And the butterfly lovers, Yingtai and Shangbo, now fly together forever, seeking lovers young and old, to whisper their story on the breeze and bless those who have found true love.

So, when you see two paired butterflies chasing each other and frolicking on currents of air some lovely day, speak softly to them, and rejoice, for they at last found each other ... as it was ever meant to be....

Happy Butterflies ... Flutterbyes ... Valentine's ... Day!!!!

)O(

Cartoons by YahnSmith

You see, sir ... we're an equal opportunity employer....

Posted by Nicki Wilcoxson at 9:55 PM

3 comments:

ROLAND BRUCE said...
I ENJOY YOUR CARTOONS,ART,AND YOUR CREATIVE TALENT!! HAVE YOU THOUGHT OF PUBLISHING A BOOK?? JENNIFER COULD USE HER TALENT TO ASSIST. THANK YOU FOR SHARING!ROLAND BRUCE
February 12, 2008 12:43 AM

Yahn Smith said...

For Roland, Nicki and several others who have commented on or asked me questions about the two cartoon pieces.... First thank you for the kind words. Roland, yes I've thought about a book... the publishers, however, had other ideas. The first cartoon about the male belly dancer was a lot funnier back in the days when I was trying to break into "Big Time" cartooning. NOW (the National Organization for Women) was still in its infancy and magazines like "Playboy" thought women's equality was pretty funny stuff. Today, most of us have learned a lot from Alan Alda. Also, contrary to some people's questions, the piece is not autobiographical. The cocktail waitress does indeed look a lot like Jennifer back in those days ... but I can't dance.The illustration is rendered in acrylic paint with black ink linework and details. FYI "Playboy" paid more money per cartoon than any publisher of cartoons in any market. They were receiving approximately 4,000 submissions of 5 to 20 original cartoons each, every week from all of us trying to break into the national market. Several times I made it past the first round of screeners to get onto Michelle Uri's desk. (Yes, "Playboy" had, and maybe still has, a female cartoon editor. I haven't looked in years.)Only once to my knowledge did I then get past Michelle to land a cartoon on Hugh Hefner's desk. I was hoping for one of the 4 to 6 available spots in each monthly issue. All the other cartoons in "Playboy" are from cartoonists under personal and usually exclusive contract to the magazine. That of course was the ultimate "dream" goal. At one time I considered wallpapering our bathroom with the hundreds of "form" rejection slips I had gotten from the dozen or so magazines with whom I was dealing. After several years and literally hundreds of cartoon submissions, I moved on, never having broken into that rarefied, top rung of national cartoonists. Coming up with the "original" and "funny" concepts was the exhausting part. Like any of the arts (acting, writing, music, etc.) luck, timing, and determination play as large a role in career success as natural talent. One must literally be an extremely driven individual for whom the career comes first, to make it into that tiny percentage of artists that actually become "superstars". Many of the "stars" in my fields of endeavor, whom I have known, studied under and/or worked with were personally very lonely, unhappy people. History is littered with "artistic types" who were completely miserable and self-destructive in their personal lives. There are rare exceptions, but Jennifer and I went to Rome, Cairo, Beijing, etc., instead. You have to figure out for yourself who was the winner. The second "Banquet" cartoon was part of a project that died on its way to the publisher. That happens a lot, unfortunately, in the industry. You have to remember that "Art" of any stripe is first of all a business. The illustration was drawn with markers and is an object lesson in professional media. Markers are not permanent. This piece has faded to less than half of its original color intensity.I hope this answers some of everyone's questions.

February 13, 2008 4:24 PM

Nicki Wilcoxson said...
Yahn,Thank you so much for another fascinating glimpse into your past life along with your added insight into the world of cartoons and the work of a cartoonist. Your description of the lucky and successful cartoonists brings to mind the reasons that the creators of two of our favorite cartoonist gave for ending "Calvin and Hobbs" and "Peanuts." I imagine that with your talent, your experience in creating so many types of art, and your knowledge of this subject made you an invaluable resource in teaching your students. For more information on the art processes, I hope everyone will take the time to read your comment on Jennifer's post, "Valentine's Day ... Words of Love ... and "The Butterfly Lovers" ...."Thank you for taking the time to share with all of us!
February 14, 2008 8:40 PM

The Times of Our Lives: Anytime, Anywhere: The “C” Word

In January, Jennifer introduced a new series of posts that would feature the topic ,”Times of Our Lives,” which were to be discussions and memories of events and experiences that shaped our lives after our graduation from CHS. For many of us a diagnosis of cancer came as one of those life-changing events and as a result we have never been the same either physically or emotionally. Cancer in many ways serves as a catalyst that connects us to our classmates, friends, family, and strangers who share the common bond and experience of cancer. Each person who has been diagnosed with cancer has a story to tell and while cancer is the common factor, every experience and story is different and yet the much the same. One definite commonality is that each person is, as long as he or she lives, a survivor. Because I know that many of you have shared this experience or, sadly, you or someone you love will at some point be faced with battling cancer, I have chosen to share my story as one of the “Times of Our Lives.”

In our family we often refer to a series of events that shape or alter our lives in the most amazing way as a “God Thing” because we have no other explanation as to how things can come together so perfectly at a time when we most need it. It is easy for us to see the hand of God working behind the scenes. In 2002 I was diagnosed with breast cancer. The diagnosis came at a time when so many things were working to my benefit that afterwards, I could only be humbled and grateful for everything that came to be.

I have always been a firm believer in having a mammogram every year as my doctor ordered. Normally, a visit to an office would be necessary. Early in 2002 the mobile mammogram van very conveniently arrived at my work place by prior appointment, and I lined up with my female co-workers to take my turn. Now here we could spend a great deal of time describing the event for as you know reams of words have given over to colorful descriptions of every sort, but as Jennifer would admonish “now you digress” but you ladies know what I mean. I left the mobile lab feeling a little smug having done my “thing” and then I promptly forgot all about it.

A couple of weeks later, I found myself at a conference in Austin when suddenly I received a phone call from the Harrington Cancer Center whose lab had performed the mammogram. I had been tracked all the way to Austin to receive a call that I needed to return as soon as possible to repeat the test. I received the call calmly and went on about my business but in the back of my mind all kinds of scenarios were clanging around in my head. Of course, I preferred to believe that it was just a fluke and would soon be corrected.

Of course, when I returned, it was not a fluke; a tiny spot remained visible on the second x-ray which was quickly followed by a sonogram and an appointment with a doctor I had never met or even heard of. I was unaware that about 2 or 3 weeks prior to my first mammogram the cancer center had hired a radiation oncologist breast specialist to head up the program and by the grace of God, Dr. John “Chip” Coscia entered my life and for the next few weeks it was his unfailing professionalism and skill that led to my diagnosis and ultimate recovery. The tiny spec on the x-ray was not able to be detected by human hands (and believe me they all tried). I believe that because of Dr. Coscia’s training and skill that my cancer was detected eons before if would have been otherwise and because of this my prognosis was excellent. During this time I became familiar with the process leading to a breast cancer diagnosis including a needle biopsy skillfully done by Dr. Coscia. By that time, I had become mentally prepared for what was to come. When the phone rang while I was at work and I found Dr. Coscia and his nurse, Janet, on the line, I calmly accepted what they had to tell me without falling apart. Ironically, the date was February 14, 2002, Valentines Day.

At that moment my librarian instincts kicked in and I began to intensely research breast cancer. I believe to be informed is to be armed. Jim and I made a trip to Barnes and Noble and as I walked down the aisle, there staring me in the face was the latest Time magazine. The date was February 18, 2002. The cover story: “The New Thinking on Breast Cancer” with the “smartest drugs, gentlest treatments and the latest on mammograms.” I grabbed it off the shelf as if it were a lifeline being thrown out to me. It was there that I first read of a new technique called a “sentinel node biopsy.” This technique negated the need for a woman’s lymph nodes to be stripped from the armpit and arm which often led to multiple problems.

In the books about cancer that I devoured, I learned the phrase, “survival team.” For me this phrase meant everything and I came to have a profound appreciation for every person assigned to my treatment including doctors, technicians, nurses and even the personnel who scheduled my appointments in such a way that I only had to show up. I never doubted that every person at that moment was doing every thing humanly possible to help me remain a survivor.

My next visit was to a surgeon. God’s hand was once again at work in the man who was to be my surgeon. Because I came armed with my newly acquired information, I asked him about a sentinel node biopsy. He told me that because it was not standard treatment in Amarillo, I would need to make an informed decision about having it done. He spoke highly of the procedure, but could not make the decision for me. Decision making is not my strength and I had a limited amount of time before the surgery which was to be a lumpectomy (my decision) to let him know about having the biopsy done.

With my head spinning and not knowing what to do, I found myself in my regular doctor’s office where we spent time discussing my options. Much to my relief she shared that only a few weeks before, she had attended a conference where my surgeon presented the sentinel node biopsy to other physicians and spoke very positively about the procedure. She was so reassuring about it that I was able to make the decision to have it done and it was a Godsend. Later in my Breast Cancer 101 group for new patients, I heard horror stories done by surgeons who had needlessly stripped the lymph nodes. Today the sentinel node biopsy is standard procedure everywhere.

After recovery from the surgery, I entered the world of radiology and once again added to my survival team. My radiation oncologist, the technicians, and the staff made it possible for my 35 treatments to go very well. Every day I left work at 1:15 and drove across town for my 1:40 treatment and then back to work. It was amazing how quickly those of us who had treatments at that time every day forged supportive friendships and celebrated when treatments ended for each of us. During that time I felt safe and cared for. When that time ended, just for a brief moment, I actually felt a moment of panic much like a baby bird being kicked out of the nest. By the way, I came away from there with a souvenir—4 tiny dot tattoos. I had always thought having a tat would be kind of fun and even though I got my wish my tattoos are strictly utilitarian, guiding the radiation technicians to make sure my body and the machine were lined up perfectly for each treatment. A butterfly would have been nice, but they weren’t willing to go that far!

The last step on my journey was to my medical oncologist. Thankfully, I didn’t require chemo, but for the next five years of medication and regular visits to his office, I felt safe once more. There I added not only Dr. Pruitt to my survival team but his nurse practitioner, Donna Ion, who was and will always be an angel to me and everyone who has the good fortune to be her patient.

Now after six years, I remain cancer free and I thank God for this blessing daily. Is it possible to go through the cancer experience without being profoundly affected? I don’t think so. During that time, I prayed that I could survive cancer at least long enough for my young grandsons to remember me. That was and still is very important to me. I worried about Jim and how this would affect him and the rest of our family. I suffered with a strong sense of loss of self. I was no longer the pre-cancer “me” but the new post cancer me is okay now, probably much stronger and more compassionate than before. I consider myself to be one of the lucky ones; I still think of cancer everyday, but I don’t dwell on it. I strive to never give the fear of its return control of my life today. I never have cried, “Why me??” Instead I steadfastly say, “Why not me?” How can I ask for more than has been given to so many of my friends who have been diagnosed with cancer or some other catastrophic illness? Planning for future life experiences has taken on a new meaning where I have to prioritize the important events and people in my life. I look back at that time and I am eternally grateful to realize how marvelously each step of my treatment and recovery came together. I have no doubt that I was given the gift of “A God Thing.”

It has been my pleasure to share my story. There are too many more to be told.
Here’s to the Race for the Cure.

Selected startling facts about cancer from the American Cancer Society: Cancer Facts and Figures 2007:

• Anyone can develop cancer.
• Since the risk of being diagnosed increases as individuals age, most cases occur in adults who are middle-aged or older.
• About 77% of cancers are diagnosed in persons 55 or older.
• In the U.S. men have a slightly less than 1 in 2 lifetime risk of developing cancer;
• For women the risk is a little more than 1 in 3.
• About 1,444,920 new cancer cases were expected to be diagnosed in 2007.
• In the U.S. cancer accounts for 1 out of ever 4 deaths.
• In Texas in 2007 an estimated 12,220 females would develop breast cancer.
• In the U.S. 178,480 women would develop breast cancer in 2007.

*These statistics came from The American Cancer Society’s website at
http://www.cancer.org/

My story is told in loving memory of my friends Janice Faulkner who led the way, sharing her strength and courage and Judy Jones Skidmore, who broke our hearts, when she was taken from us way too soon.