Believe it or Not

 Believe it or Not

I have always believed in an afterlife, but since my husband’s death seven years ago, I have come to believe that those who go before us can somehow communicate with us from the other side.  They do so by sending signs, reminders that jog our memories and bring thoughts to our minds.  I’d say, however, you’d have to be receptive to these signs in order to interpret them in this way.  For example, many people identify with loved ones by sighting cardinals.  The saying goes: “When cardinals appear, angels are near”.  A cardinal is considered a sign from heaven.  In the same way, others see dragonflies or butterflies that symbolize to them that their deceased loved ones are nearby.  I myself have encountered bright red cardinals that fly in front of my car windshield on countless occasions since my husband passed away.  Each time, I consider it a greeting from him.  I also have found dimes on the ground in parking lots.  I’ve found feathers in my yard.  I’ve heard “our song”, "Walking on Sunshine", on the radio when I least expected it.  In fact, on Thanksgiving Day, I heard an old song called “Wind Beneath my Wings” that was played at our wedding.  I had not heard it in years and apparently my son had an oldies station playing in the background during our meal.  Today, however, I had a sign that was incredible to me. 

I had gone to my “happy place” which is the local thrift store.  I can wander around there for hours, as it is relaxing to me.  It is nostalgic and it takes me back to a simpler time somehow.  I see things others have discarded that are reminiscent of my childhood.  I’m always searching for a vintage treasure.  Also, the music they play in that store is so calming and uplifting. Today, I looked mostly at old books and old Christmas decorations and ornaments.  I found myself completely lost in another world.  When I go there, my mind does not race, and my thoughts are on nothing else except the looking.  I found a few books and a wire basket and headed to the cashier.  At the checkout line, there were more ornaments that I sorted through.  As I left the building, I glanced at my watch and could not believe how much time had actually passed.  When I got back to my car door, I noticed that an ornament that I did not purchase was attached to the bottom of my sweater with its wire hanger.  I remember seeing it on the rack but did not choose to buy it.  It was a clear plastic oval embossed with “Merry Christmas and 1983”.  I closed my car door and went back into the store to return it.  The attendant at the door took it from me and thanked me for bringing it in.  He said “oh, it’s trying to sneak its way out of here”!  I wish I had purchased it but didn’t want to stand in line again.  You see, 1983 was the year that I met my husband.  I took that as a sign that he was with me.  I mean, 1983 was 42 years ago.  What are the odds that an ornament that old would coincidentally get attached to my sweater?  It is circumstances like this one that make me a believer that he is making his presence known.  At least that’s what I choose to believe.

Tammy Harvey 

12/01/2025 

Neuroscience and the Bible

Research in neuroscience has proven that anxiety and gratitude cannot coexist simultaneously in our brains.  I found this article to be helpful in explaining the benefits of Gratitude. 

https://share.google/cemxntWOumg9x5LNg

Scripture says: Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.

Philippians 4:6-7

Happy Thanksgiving!

Time, Friend or Foe?

 

Time, Friend or Foe?

Is it just me or is time passing faster and faster?  My husband has been deceased for seven years.  My oldest grandson is almost nine years old.  I’m on Medicare and life goes on.  We have Christmas and the next thing I know is Christmas again.  As a child, Christmas was always a long way off.  I know it is all relative.  When I was 5 years old, the year was 1/5^th of my life so a year seems long but, at 65 when a year is 1/65^th of life, it feels like a blink.  People always told me that time goes by quickly the older you get, but now I am experiencing it for myself.  In this predicament, there is an urgency to “live” life.  It feels like life will pass me by if I stand still.  My days are numbered and unlike being a child, I don’t feel invincible anymore.  It’s the feeling of what should I do and what am I able to do?  It is a retirement reality that gives me a lot of free time, but too many choices.  I could do this, or that, but what if I can’t decide?  It reminds me of an adult who told us in my childhood, “Do something, even if it’s wrong”!  As a youngster, my free time was limited when I entered school.  As a young adult, my free time was limited by my job.  As a mother, my free time was limited by my children.  Then suddenly, I am given endless free time.  I am blessed yet perplexed.  I want to make the best of my ‘golden years”, so I think I will just continue to enjoy my family and grandchildren as much as possible.  Maybe I can be an example to them of how to grow old gracefully.  Time, friend or foe?

Tammy Harvey

10/28/2025

Veteran's Day

 

Korean Veteran

Veteran’s Day is upon us.  This day we honor and celebrate all those who served in the military to defend our country.  No one can imagine what horrific experience they had and how it affected the rest of their lives.  Some were volunteers and some were drafted.  My Dad was drafted to serve in the Korean conflict.  He was only 21 years old and newly married in February 1953 when he was sent to Camp Stoneman in Pittsburg, California as part of the 7^th Infantry Division, Men of the “Bayonet”.  He was a country boy who was raised on a tenant dairy farm in Jefferson City in East Tennessee.  I have a Camp Stoneman postcard sent to my mother from my dad postmarked 1953 along with the locket he sent her from there.  It is in a frame now on my shelf.  The tiny black/white photos of him and her that she so carefully placed in the little locket are so precious to me.  They went on to spend 73 years of married life together.  

He had not seen any of the world, yet he was boarding a boat to take him on a several-week journey to Korea, arriving overseas in September 1953.  I’m sure he was scared and no doubt he was seasick, as well as homesick.  He was stationed at 38^th Parallel, Chuncheon, Korea, and ultimately spent approximately 2 years there and thankfully returned home safely.  When I was growing up, he didn’t talk too much about war.  I know only a few stories about his time there.  He has a multitude of black/white photos taken while there.  He always referenced how incredibly cold the winters were and how the rats would get down in their sleeping bags with them.  He began his interest in weightlifting while serving which turned into a career for him.  He and his buddies fabricated a bench press by attaching cinderblocks to the ends of a steel bar.  I do have photos to prove it.  He said our mother wrote to him every single day. 

My dad spoke of how he hated to be the watchguard at night and how afraid he was of falling asleep on his post.  The fear was that if he fell asleep, a North Korean soldier could come up behind him with a wire and cut his throat.  He told us about the Korean orphaned children and the stray dog that his troop adopted.  The children would beg the US soldiers for gifts by singing: “Cigaretto, chocolecto, chewing gum presento me.  Have no mamason.  Have no papason.  Chop, Chop, please give to me”.   At least, that is the song my dad would sing for us.  He also told of the terror of being in a foxhole with shots being fired over his head.  At some point, he was given the job of radio operator with the 32^nd Regiment’s Heavy Mortar Company.  He is currently 93 with dementia but still calls out his radio jargon daily: “Able, Baker, one, five, Willie, X-ray”.  He taught me and my sister many Japanese words that we never knew the translation for all these years later.  In turn, I passed along to my children these Japanese nonsense words. 

I wonder sometimes what my father would have been like had he not served in the US Army.  I don’t think he would be the same man that he is today.  Although tough, I know the experiences he had there were valuable ones in shaping his character.  I won’t say he got out without some PTSD, but he mostly chose not to speak about it.  He answered the call to duty in service to our country and I am very proud of him.  In 2012, he was able to participate in the HonorAir Knoxville which took him on a trip to Washington DC to tour the memorials.  The Korean Memorial was dedicated in 1995 and before that there was really no public recognition for Korean veterans.  A big thank you to all who serve because we know that freedom is not free.  Happy Veteran’s Day.

Tammy Harvey  10/30/2025 

Oh No He Didn't

 

Oh No He Didn’t

I was happy to be invited to attend the NC St Fair with my son and daughter-in-law and my 2-year-old granddaughter.  It was a beautiful fall day.  The sun was shining, and the fair atmosphere was as I remembered it.  Festivities and unusual foods were endless.  The air was filled with excitement and anticipation as only the St Fair can provide.  It’s an experience in itself to just walk around.  I never was an amusement park participant and don’t like to ride rides, but just the sights and sounds gave me joy.  Seeing the look on my granddaughter’s face was priceless.  It was colorful and magical.  She rode a few kiddie rides, but they tended to be short in duration.  When the ride stopped, she would cry because she wanted it to keep going.  She saw the animals and had a pony ride.  She sat atop a huge John Deere tractor and squealed with happiness.  I got roasted corn dripping with butter on a stick and enjoyed every bite of it.  My daughter-in-law got a Boston crème donut which my granddaughter devoured.  My son had a country ham biscuit.  The food offerings seemed infinite.  They were serving gator tails, Krispy Kreme cheeseburgers, deep-fried everything and the familiar funnel cakes and cotton candy, just to name a few.  The grist mill was running, and the free hushpuppies were delicious.  It was traditional for our family to get a free hushpuppy. 

My son wanted to continue his new tradition of getting his daughter’s portrait made by tintype processing.  The actual photo produced is taken with a vintage camera and developed on a piece of tin.  It is reminiscent of photos from the 1800’s.   They had her photo taken last year when she was only a year old while she was bawling.  This time, however, she sat like a pro and in the photo, she looked like a model.  Having accomplished the goal of getting the portrait, we walked the midway, where all the carnival games are located.  During that time, I mentioned that those carnival guys could never guess my age when I was younger, because I always looked younger than I was.  My son challenged me to test my theory.  He said he’d give me $5 to see me play the game.  I approached the guy with the microphone who had been calling out to the crowd for a victim.  I was wearing a baseball cap which I removed so he could see my gray hair.  He said, “you want me to guess your weight or your age?”   Of course, I said my age.  He took a tiny slip of paper and turned it toward the crowd while writing his guess.  It was hidden from me, and he asked me my age.  I said “65” and he said, “get a prize”.   I was ecstatic because I had beaten the game once again.  The joke, however, was on me!  My son began to belly laugh and laugh and revealed that the guy had written down “69”.  What?!  I was devastated.  How dare he!  My son proceeded to get a plastic trumpet for my granddaughter as a prize.  Little did he know that it actually made noise.  I taught her how to blow it, and he said, “that toy is going to Gigi’s house” to which I replied, “No way, you paid $5 for it, and you keep it!”  Jokes on him?  I don’t think so, I was mortified to know that I was now being guessed older than I really am.  “Oh no he didn’t” kept running through my mind.  The St Fair will never be the same!

Tammy Harvey 10/28/2025      

Just Wait until your Dad gets Home

 

Just Wait until Your Dad Gets Home

This is a familiar phrase used by mothers all over the south to instill fear in their children.  Obedience was an expectation that seldom was rendered satisfactorily.  At wit’s end, a mother might resort to the famous saying in exasperation, after discipline of her own had failed her.  Exhausted, physically and emotionally, she would defer the child’s punishment to her spouse.  The anticipation of the impending “spanking” was almost as bad as the actual act for these unfortunate sons and daughters.  My mother was no different in her attempt to keep unruliness at bay.  Although my sister and I were angels most of the time, we would on occasion get in hot water with our mother.  When she had had enough, she would blurt out the always frightening: “just wait until your dad gets home”!  Litte did she know!  

My Dad could discipline us with just a “look”.  He didn’t need to resort to a whooping.  He had gotten so many of them as a boy that I don’t think he could bring himself to be on the other end of such violence.  When he came through the door, mom would convey that she needed him to proceed to give us a punishment.  He would take us into the bathroom one at a time.  He would say, “Now I am going to hit the back of my hand and when I do, you cry, okay?”  So, he hit the back of his hand a few times, and we faked crying to the best of our ability.  This satisfied our mother and kept us out of harm’s way.  I don’t know if my mother ever knew he did that, but she probably suspected something.  Either way, she still continued to use the threat: “wait until your dad gets home”!  And we couldn’t wait!

Tammy Harvey  10/26/2025          

I've Lost It

 

Right Under my Nose

Have you ever looked for something that you misplaced?  I have this obsession that I must find anything that is lost or be able to explain its disappearance.  I have often seen the sign: “It’s not really lost, until Mom can’t find it”.  Well, that’s me the sign is describing.  I often prided myself on being able to tell my husband and children exactly where something was located.  It was like I had a compartmental brain that kept track of everything.  That was then.  This is now.  At 65, my mind is not near as sharp in identifying the whereabouts of all things.  Recently, I misplaced a tool that should have been in my garage.  I live alone so I should be the one to have put it in its place.  I faintly remember thinking this is a good “new” place to store the rubber mallet, but now the “new” place escapes my memory.  I went into the garage and looked with my eyes, scouring the shelves and doing a truly thorough job of visibly searching for it.  I looked in all the obvious places and in all of the not-so-obvious places.  I could not locate it.  I looked in the yard, because I could have left it outside accidentally.  Nothing.  I texted my sons to see if perhaps they had borrowed it. Nope.  It should have been highly visible because it has a bright yellow fiberglass handle.  This was really bugging me.  Maybe I threw it out with the yard waste?  I got up the next day and did a much-needed cleaning of my garage, organizing and moving many things around.  Still no luck.  I was almost to the point of giving up, but that never happens.  The next day my son dropped off an extra rubber mallet he had, but it wasn’t the one I was searching for.  I didn’t need a mallet.  I needed to find a mallet.  There is a difference.

 That same evening, I drove in after dark, parked in the garage, got out, turned the corner at the front of my car  ready to open the door to the house and to my surprise, the rubber mallet I had spent so much time looking for was sitting there in plain sight in its “new” place, just where I had put it.  Yes, it was hanging by its rubber head, handle dangling down between the two rolling carts of tools.  I had used many of the tools but had never seen the mallet there among them.  Was I blind?  I guess so because it was right under my nose the entire time.  If it had been the copperhead snake in one of my recent posts, it would have bitten me.  Why so much time and energy spent on finding something that could be replaced for $10?  Well, I guess it is an “obsessed mom” thing. I can accurately, literally and figuratively, say that "I've lost it"! (my mind)

Tammy Harvey

9/10/2025