Did you ever wonder if your personal perception of yourself is any different from the way others see you?

The Real Me.


And i wondered again whether I'd like to know. If you were able, would you want to get inside someone's head and know how they think, what they are thinking? I don't know if I would or not.

But I think it's incredible how different our perceptions of ourselves can actually be.

Last night I watched possibly the dumbest movie yet. It was The Messengers with Dylan McDermott, Penelope Ann Miller, and John Corbett. Here's how it goes.

I'm going to do you a favor and give you the run down on this movie so that you won't waste a Netflix choice or $7.50 (or more). Then you can contribute the $7.50 to the Alzheimer's Memory Walk in my behalf!

Mom and Dad (played by Penelope Ann Miller and Dylan McDermott) have a Troubled Teen (Jessica) and a Baby Boy (Ben) who, although obviously at least three years old, doesn't speak. This is only the first of many contrivances in this film: the Troubled Teenager and the Afflicted Toddler. Mom and Dad have bought a decrepit house sitting ominously in the Middle of Nowhere in North Dakota. Immediately you realize that the family is Troubled because of Mom's worried look and Dad's short temper. Jessica is a bit on the surly side, not happy about leaving behind everything that is familiar, including all of her friends, so that she can move into a house that obviously has not been painted in 50 years, looks like a strong breeze would level it, and is miles from anything resembling civilization. Plus, surprise! There's no cell phone service: second obvious contrivance.

But never mind! Mom and Dad are Starting Over, and Jessica is plainly part of the reason for this. There are subtle allusions to Jessica's Problems Back Home (which will be revealed when it is necessary to explain why three year old Ben never utters a word -- something that may puzzle you throughout the first hour of the movie. He often points and looks up at the ceiling, however.)

What is the plan, you ask? MomandDad are going to start a sunflower farm. Dad -- who obviously must know more than we do about the sunflower market - is confident that there is big money in sunflower seeds for the small independent farmer with no money, who will be plowing, planting, and harvesting acres and acres of sunflowers entirely on his own without any help from Mom, Jessica, or the Stranger, who mysteriously appears on the property (how did he get there? On foot? In the Middle of Nowhere?) -- twice -- and pressures Dad to sell him the property. This is never explained to any degree whatsoever but certainly makes you, if not Dad, wonder what's with this piece of crap house, that a guy in a suit would come walking up out of nowhere (I'm assuming since there's no car anywhere to be seen), contract in hand - did I mention twice -- wanting to buy it?

So, Dad is trying to get his New Life started and yet another Stranger appears (it's crowded out in the Middle of Nowhere North Dakota), not out of the blue, but from just over the hill: a bearded, disheveled, grungy, shotgun toting John Corbett (the charming fiance from My Big Fat Greek Wedding and Northern Exposure), played by Burwell Rollins. I'm sorry. That's Burwell Rollins, played by John Corbett.

Burwell appears just in the nick of time, as Dad is being attacked by the crows that have hung around the house (ala Hitchcock.) One blast from Burwell's shotgun scatters the crows, which is enough to satisfy Dad that this is a guy they'd like to keep around. Asked if he is from town, Burwell gives a vague and suspicious answer but that doesn't faze Dad who hires him on the spot in exchange for room and board. Mom invites him inside for a meal. Yes. Invites into their home with two children (Troubled, not to mention sexy, Teen and Afflicted Toddler) a total stranger, wandering around the outback of North Dakota, carrying a shotgun. HOWEVER: The writers, bowing to Hollywood's dedication to gun control, have Mom ask Burwell to leave his shotgun outside. YOU can come in, although we have never set eyes on you before, you seem to have been dropped out of the sky, you agreed to work for free without hesitation and for all we know could have knives and other sharp objects on our person -- but it's okay - just leave the gun outside!

So everything is set up and the movie proceeds to tease us and make us jump in all the right places. Ben points mysteriously to the ceiling and to dark spots on the walls, and Jessica hears things go bump in the night. But when she calls the police after a particularly noisy event with furniture flying and banisters tumbling, nothing in the house is out of place. Not a stick. Naturally everyone believes Jessica is just trying to get attention, or maybe on drugs, and they chastise her for causing so much trouble. And get with the program, Jessica: we are staying here and Starting Over. Dad reminds her that he has sunk twenty years of savings into getting Ben well, no thanks to you , Jessica. Finally we learn that Jessica was driving drunk with Ben in the car, there was an accident, and Ben wound with an injury that has left him mute. But cute. And psychic.

It appears Jessica and Ben are the only family members who can see the mysterious and creepy Things that Go Bump In The Night which are, naturally, in the basement, behind the mysteriously locked door, and in the barn -- all places where Jessica goes, alone, to investigate. These critters are deathly pale, in a semi-decayed state, with big blank eyes and the ability to jump rather quickly just when a fright is needed.

Okay, I'm going to cut to the chase here. The rest of the movie is just one big set up, with ridiculously contrived situations. It turns out that Burwell was the husband and father of the previous family that "just disappeared" according to townspeople (although Burwell was still around somewhere, living off the land apparently, unbeknownst to anyone). After being attacked by the crows himself -- I guess the crows are on the side of his dead family -- Burwell suddenly thinks that Mom is his former wife and relives the night he murdered everyone. The spirits of his dead family are, of course, the source of all the bumping and grabbing and weird scurrying we have seen so far.

I'm almost as tired of this "review" as I was of the movie. Burwell tries to kill Mom, Jessica, Dad, Ben, and Jessica's friend, a Townie. However, the spirits of his family come to the rescue and pull Burwell down into the muck in the basement where he drowns.

Cut to several months or years later, and Mom, Dad, Ben, Jessica, and Jessica's friend are all harvesting the sunflowers under a brilliantly blue North Dakota sky, and yes, Ben is talking. In a scene that looks like a Pepsi commercial from the 1970's, everyone is smiling and happy because the spirits are at peace, Burwell having gotten what he deserved. The crows have flown away, the sunflowers are flourishing and everyone is happy. Peace, Man.

Don't waste your time or money on this lousy movie. When I see a piece of drivel like this, I wonder how much it cost to make it and how much the actors got for starring in this? Geez, I could write something better than this.

Le Montage

A montage of family photos.

Mae and Bob

My mother's sister Mae was born in 1914. She died in 1992. She never married. In 1952, my grandmother's dementia became too severe for her to be left alone. Mae was unmarried and, naturally, had to work. So that there would be someone to look after my grandmother, we moved into "the house" - the one built by my grandfather & his sons - with Aunt Mae, my grandmother and my mother's youngest sister. That my mother cared for two children under six, cooked, cleaned house, and washed and ironed clothes (no clothes dryer - she hung them outdoors to dry) for seven people, day in and day out with little help never really hit me until I was an adult. It wasn't that she wasn't appreciated or loved or treated well. She considered it her role in life. Her duty. I think she accepted it and loved parts of it. But to this day, I wonder how she did it with no resentment or bitterness.

But I intended this to be about Bob (here's his picture) and Mae. Bob was the first son, born after five daughters. In this picture I imagine he's in his late teens or early twenties. See that bank behind him? That was "dug out" by Granddaddy's sons so they could build a house on the property. I suppose he could not afford to pour a basement so the house was built on the flat lot after the boys dug all this dirt out from under it. That's the house in the picture above with Aunt Mae.

Bob was -- from what I've been told -- a gentle, kind boy with a big heart and sense of humor. He was born in 1921 or 1922 - he would have been the same age as my father. Bob went into the army during World War II and was stationed in Africa, on the Gold Coast. Here's a picture of him and a friend. I don't know where the young African men come in.

Below is a picture of Bob and his best friend, from Chicago - probably the first Yankee Bob had ever met! :-)Aunt Mae began a correspondence with this gentleman's wife which lasted until Aunt Mae's death in 1992 - almost 50 years -- and the never met.

Bob contracted tuberculosis while in Africa. He died at Oteen Hospital in the fall of 1945. Aunt Mae had moved to Ahseville, North Carolina to take care of him. She would have been about 30 or so and was very close to Bob. She lived in a room above a drug store during the time she was there - I don't know how long. On weekends, other family members rode the Greyhound bus to Asheville to visit their brother. Once, Granny made the trip when Bob was very close to death. Granddaddy was unable to go as he was very ill himself.

My grandfather was a close friend of the local funeral director - best friends, in fact. When Bob's body arrived home, it was evening. My grandfather could not bear the thought of his oldest son lying alone overnight in the funeral home. The family was extremely distraught over the death of the beloved son. The funeral director, out his love and respect for my grandfather, allowed the body to stay at the house. My aunt told me this was actually illegal, since it was not embalmed. I don't know if that is true or not - from what I've read recently it is not the case. At any rate, it meant something to my grandfather and the funeral director respected that.

My grandfather died two months later.

Pauline Morris November 1, 1911-March 1, 2008

Our aunt, Polly Morris, died on March 1 at the age of 96. She was Mom's sister.

Polly lived a long, healthy life until the last year when she began to decline. She outlived most of her younger siblings and her own son, who died December 26th, 2007. Polly was in the hospital at the same time as her son, with pneumonia. She battled back and actually attended his funeral.

Some say we don't choose our time to die but I'm not so sure. Polly's mental capacity began to diminish, and some of us doubted that she fully understood that her son was gone but I wonder if that wasn't what made up her own mind that it was time to go. Parents are not supposed to outlive their children. After surviving all but her two youngest siblings, perhaps she had had enough of being left behind.

I am certain that Polly and all her sisters are enjoying each others' company, along with other beloved family members who have left us behind.

Inagural Post

Everyone has a story to tell and I'm no exception. My cousin Irene and I talked a few weeks ago about how our family stories should be recorded for our children, because we regretted that by the time we were old enough to appreciate what our parents had to tell us, they were gone.

I had the idea of starting this blog so that all family members would hopefully contribute stories and pictures. My kids love to hear family lore that I just take for granted.

So I'm going to start with me.
Because in my world, it is all about me.






















Here I am with Dad, Scott and Richard: Christmas, 1959. I'm the beauty standing behind the little urchin on the rocking horse (by the way, I never remember getting a rocking horse for Christmas). As you've probably figured out, I was the only girl and the middle child. Thus, the happy expression. Can you feel the love? Now that I think about it, Richard doesn't look too thrilled either. Nor does Dad. You know, the only truly happy face seems to belong to Scott.


Here we are again. Notice the Studebaker in the background, please. Please try not to notice the white socks Richard and I are wearing.
























So there are the three siblings.

We were a totally ordinary family of the 1950's, with a homemaker mom, a father who worked long hours, and three normal, aggravating, smart ass kids. The thing that may have set us apart was the extended family. My mother had ten siblings: six sisters and four brothers. All of the sisters but one lived within a couple of blocks of each other. Our house was built by my grandfather, Robert Hawkins, and we lived there all our lives. Mom finally moved around 1990.

Next door was Gladys and her husband John Fields. They were childless, and they seemed like grandparents to us although they were only a few years older that Mom and Dad.

A couple of houses down from them was Emma and her husband Walt Hughes. They had five children, but somehow I never really knew them. I think they were up and married by the time I was ten or so.

Across the street from Emma was Polly and her husband Carl Morris, and their two children Pat and Jim. Jim married Frances and moved into a tiny house across the street for a few years. Around 1959, they moved to Mableton. I was very close to their daughter Sue, who was less than a year younger than me.

Grace and her husband Doyle lived behind Emma, on a dead end street. They had two children, "Buddy" and Joan.

Mom's oldest brother, Robert, died of tuberculosis which he contracted while serving in Africa during World War II. He was twenty-three.

Frank was the black sheep of the family. He spent some of his post-war years in Alaska, where he had been stationed during the war. When he moved back to Georgia, he lived with us for awhile. He married his second wife an they had a daughter. AFter their divorce, Frank moved back to Alaska, around 1964. He had married a third time by then. He stayed in Alaska until about 1985 or so when he moved back to Georgia.

Bill married Helen, and they had a son, Bill Jr. Helen had a son from a previous marriage. They moved to Florida for awhile, then back to Georgia.

Doug married Betty, they had four children.

So there's the Hawkins family, if only a brief outline. There are interesting stories to tell. Tune in frequently.

Everybody has a story to tell.