Baby on the Way

 

Baby on the Way

Ten years ago, when my son’s wife was pregnant with our first grandbaby, they had just purchased their first home together.  It was a small starter home with 3 small bedrooms and 2 baths with no garage.  It had a beautiful deck outside the back door of the kitchen and a fenced-in backyard with plenty of beautiful landscapes.  They navigated a gender reveal party and began decorating a nautical-themed nursery for a baby boy due in only a few months.  As a family project, we added a cover over the deck area.  At some point, I was standing in their backyard at the corner of the deck that was so inviting.  My son mentioned to me how he needed to remove the rose bushes from the yard.  There were many of them.  Curiously I asked him why. He said it was because the baby might get hurt on the thorns.  Without even thinking, I quickly replied.  I asked him if he was going to take the stove out of the kitchen also.  He looked perplexed.  I told him the stove would be hot and if the baby touched it, he could get hurt.   I said that he would only touch the thorny bush one time before knowing it was not a good idea.  Natural consequences are the best teacher sometimes, I implied.  I think he must have understood my thought process because he did not remove the rose bushes from the yard or the stove from the kitchen!

First time parents are very protective, as they should be.  Now with three children and 10 years of experience, my son is the best balance of safety and life lessons.  He has had the opportunity to parent 2 boys and then become a girl dad.  He will tell you that there is a huge difference between raising girls and boys.  I did not have that experience as all three of my children are boys!  At this point, he could teach me a thing or two.  

Tammy Harvey

9/6/2026

How Long?

 

How Long?

As long as ducks quack and frogs croak,

As long as when you crack an egg, you get a yolk,

As long as donkeys bray and cows come home,

When stars shine and wild horses roam,

As long as doves cry and flowers bloom,

And thunder makes a resounding boom,

As long as the road meets the horizon,

And the full moon is arising,

As long as the ocean meets the shore,

When the earth is behind me and I breathe no more,

That is how long I will love you!

Tammy Harvey

8/12/2026

Howard C Langston

 Memories of my Grandfather

Howard Clarence Langston was my mother’s father, my maternal grandfather.  He was born on February 9, 1906, and lived to be 74 years old.  I was only 20 years old when he passed away, June 12, 1980.  Father’s Day was June 15 that year.  I’ll always remember how his funeral was so close to the day dedicated to fathers.  He died of a fatal stroke in his kitchen during the wee hours of the night after returning from the outhouse.  I would like my grandchildren to know a little about him and thus I am recording my fond memories of him. 

 He was born and raised in Strawberry Plains, Tennessee.  He was a carpenter.  He built houses including his own and the home for my mother and father when they were married. He gave them a corner of his property for their new home to start their lives together.  When I was born, we lived in that home.  That home, in fact, became rental property for approximately 60 years after my parents moved to Knoxville.   It was 810 square feet with 2 bedrooms and one bathroom on a lot slightly larger than a half-acre. We ultimately sold it in 2023. An aside story about that house is the fact that a thorny pasture field was all that separated it from my grandparents’ house.  When we were small my mother would lift us over the barbed-wire fence and send us off to my grandmother waiting on the other side of the pasture field.  They could both watch us safely depart and arrive for a welcoming visit with my grandmother.  As my grandmother told the story, when my sister, only 18 months older than myself, would encounter her first brier prick she would turn around and run back crying to our mother.  On the other hand, I would push through all the briers and arrive at my grandmother’s embrace with scratched up legs!    

My grandfather was a painter.  Even though he was color blind, he painted interiors and exteriors.  He would return home from a day of painting and go behind the garage to clean his paintbrushes.  The wall faced the wooded area of his property that no one sees.  There he would rinse the brush and paint the side of the garage until the brush came out clean.  There was a “mural” of colors on the back side of that garage.  He had built that particular garage for my mother to keep her car in.  She lived with them when my father was in the army in Korea.

He was limber.  I remember he could sit crisscross and then stand up on his knees and walk.  He challenged us to do the same. He always wore high back bib overalls. Every day he wore Liberty (Big Smith) denim overalls, except on Sundays. On Sundays he wore a shirt and pants and a Homberg style hat.  He always drove a Chevy pickup truck with a straight shift.  It had to be a Chevrolet, with a step side.   I remember riding to church sitting in the middle between my grandmother and him while he shifted gears.  I think his shifter was on the steering column.

He was a man of God.  He said grace before every meal.  He got up early to tend to the woodstove which heated the house.  In the early hours, he sat in the corner next to the stove reading his Bible every day.  He didn’t believe in modern luxuries.  They had no heat or air conditioning.  They had gotten indoor plumbing, but he refused to use the indoor toilet.  He always went to the outhouse, even if it was in the middle of the night.  He never wasted city water either. Water was a commodity that was costly and he treated it like gold.  His house was unique as it sat right on the county line between Sevier County and Jefferson County. He ate meals in Jefferson County and slept in Sevier County. 

He would sit down with an apple and pull out his pocketknife.  I was always in awe of how he carefully peeled the apple in one continuous spiral without breaking the peel.  He would then slice off pieces of the apple and eat them right off the knife’s blade.

He had a sense of humor.  He liked to tell us funny stories and make jokes which irritated my grandmother.  She fed him three square meals a day.  For breakfast, he always had two poached eggs and toast.  She prepared a hot lunch and then served the leftovers for dinner.  He would come home for lunch most of the time when he was painting.  Otherwise, he carried a metal lunchbox, the rectangular kind with the domed lid for the thermos.

On occasion, he took us to the local gas station, Underwood & Petty at 804 Asheville Hwy in Strawberry Plains, TN.  He would buy us a “dope” which was a grape soda in a glass bottle, and a moon pie.  The locals would gather there around the stove in a circle of straight-backed, cane-bottomed chairs.  They exchanged pleasantries and news, good and bad.  It was a place he would go to “hang out” in the afternoon after his workday was over.

Tammy Harvey

8/15/2026

My First Car

 

My First Car

My first car was not one I owned but rather one that my dad let me drive, a 1973 Chevrolet El Camino.   It was a company car he had purchased for a Public Relations representative to promote his health club business.  Mr. James Waller, a retiree from Pittsburgh Paint, drove it proudly around town handing out free passes to strangers who might come and try out the exercise program.  After trying it, the hope was for my dad to sell them memberships.   My dad had magnetic signs made to adorn each side of the vehicle to create a moving billboard.  “Continental Health Club located in Western Plaza” with a phone number and a muscleman symbol comprised the white signs with black lettering. 

By the time I inherited the car to drive, Mr. Waller had passed away, and the position was never filled again.  After all, no one could have filled the shoes of Mr. Waller, who my dad had recognized as everyone’s grandfather and a personable promoter.  I was in high school when I began driving the 1973 El Camino.  I started driving when I turned 16 in 1976.  I “learned” to drive when my dad took me to the local West Town mall in the El Camino on a Sunday morning when the mall was closed.  The parking lot was absolutely bare.  He had me turn left and right a few times then said “okay, drive me home now”.   I was terrified.  I later went on to take a driver’s education class in high school.

The summer of 1977 I drove it to my first job as a summer day camp attendant for Knox County.  It was a pilot program where parents could drop their children off with me at Bluegrass Elementary School.  We had access to board games and a kickball field.  I had kids from kindergarten through 5^th grade to entertain, without a bathroom, from 10 am-3pm!   I remember driving up to the school in the El Camino with Waylon Jenning’s “Luckenbach, Texas” playing on the radio.  I suppose I removed the magnetic promo signs at this point.  My dream job, or so I thought, was to work at Cracker Barrel in the summer of 1978.  I did accomplish that goal but hated being a waitress and only lasted 3 weeks.  Instead, I found a job at Captain D’s fast-food restaurant where I worked as cashier and drive-through attendant.  During my first quarter of college in fall of 1978, I commuted 8 miles to campus and drove this vehicle back and forth daily.  This is when I fell in love with it.  It was so light in the back and would absolutely fly and steering it only required one finger.  I always took the backroads, and thinking back I wonder why I never ended up in the cow pasture!  Those rural roads were narrow and had no shoulders and were curvy and hilly.  I surpassed the speed limit everyday going to my classes.  After that initial quarter at college, however, I chose to move to a campus dormitory because commuting/parking was not ideal, and I wanted to receive the full college experience of independent living.

Back at home in the summer of 1979, driving the El Camino, I worked at Shores Market on Northshore drive, ironically, I took the same road I took to get to campus.  The market was a convenience store with a deli/food counter and gas station.  I sold a lot of cigarettes and beer and made a lot of sandwiches and fried chicken & potato wedges.  I learned to make change, check id’s and watch a man drain the hose of the gas pump into his car every time after the pump cut off.  Funny how certain memories stick with you.  In the fall of 1980, I took part in a co-op program and was hired to work at Powell Manufacturing Company in Bennettsville, SC.  My Dad and I drove there in the El Camino; he got me settled in and flew home.  I rented a room from a lady, Margaret Rogers, and experienced the culture shock of a lifetime.  I lived across the street from a tobacco field in Marlboro County.  I worked as a draftsman for Powell, making changes to their blueprints.  Powell was a manufacturer of tobacco harvesting equipment.  I was born and raised in Knoxville, TN and living in Bennettsville was an education in itself, but that is a story for another day.  The co-op position, however, confirmed to me that agricultural engineering was the right choice of curriculum for me.

Because I spent the fall and spring of 1980 in Bennettsville, I had to attend college classes in the summer of 1980.  Now I was living with my parents in a home on the lake which was 16 miles from campus.  They had moved while I was in Bennettsville in the spring of 1980.   I despised going to summer school but still enjoyed “flying” the El Camino down those rural roads.  It had an exceptional air conditioner!  I only spent two quarters as a co-op student and in fall 1981 I was back on campus again.  It is worth mentioning, however, that in the spring of 1980 on my second 10-week stay in Bennettsville, my dad insisted that I take his BMW 530i to Bennettsville instead of the El Camino.  I did so, but being naïve I did not know I was driving a luxury car.  In this little town of 8,774 people, with a black population of 48.6%, this choice of vehicle being driven by a 20-year-old young lady brought quite the attention to it.  

The El Camino was a sparkly emerald, green color with a bench seat and essentially was a 2-door car with a truck bed on the back and a 350hp, V-8 engine. There was a white pleather-looking snap-on cover that I could use to hide the truck bed.  I drove it home from Bennettsville at Christmas of 1980.  By now, I really considered it mine, since it was my dedicated ride.  I paid my car insurance.  I took pride in it and kept it washed and waxed.  In the summer of 1981 when I worked for Digenova’s Pizza, a local pizza place owned by Dan Digenova, he talked me into putting a Holley carburetor on it.  When it needed tires, he advised me to put retreads on it. 

I went back to school for my senior year in the fall of 1981and graduated in December of 1982 with a bachelor’s degree in Agricultural Engineering.  I was only the third female at the University of Tennessee to receive  this degree.   I worked again in the summer of 1982 for Digenova’s Pizza and continued to work there after I graduated.  I searched for a job while driving El Camino to the pizza restaurant.  I ate pizza every day for months and never grew tired of it.  When I finally landed a job, in August, it was with the USDA- ARS in Florence, SC, just 40 miles south of Bennettsville!  At that point, I was expected to buy my own car, which I did.  I purchased a 1981 Toyota Corolla, 4-door, 5-speed stick shift in July of 1983 for $6500.  My dad refused to co-sign the loan for me (on principle) because my starting salary was so high, by his estimation.   My dad, in turn, sold the El Camino to Margaret Rogers’ daughter, Ellen in McColl, SC, just NE of Bennettsville.  Why didn’t I just buy El Camino from my dad?  I really don’t know.  It was never really my car, but for years I got to use it as if it were!  I drove to Florence, SC in my Toyota Corolla, as owner of my first car, and began my job there on August 21, 1983.

On August 28, 1983, in Florence, I met my husband to be.  We dated for a year and a half before marrying on May 25, 1985.  During our dating time, he found out my car loan interest rate was 12% because there was no co-signer, and immediately he paid off my car!

Tammy Harvey  8/2/2026  

A Tribute to Dolly

I was born and raised in East Tennessee and my family was from Jefferson County which is close to Sevierville where Dolly was born.  All my life, I have heard stories of Dolly and heard her music.  She was no stranger to me, in fact, it felt like she was a personal friend.

A Tribute to Dolly

The cabin was at the base of the mountain, the old homeplace,

Surrounded by fields of wildflowers with plenty of running space,

The winding road that led up there was just a metaphor,

For life’s journey that returns her to this old front door,

This old porch holds her memories of good times and bad,

Rich in love and family spirit, for that’s all she really had,

Neon moss covered the ground around the shaded yard,

Soft and cool to the touch, though life was pretty hard,

She could lie down on that moss and dream her wildest dream,

As the smoke rolled off the mountain top like enchanted steam,

The sky was the only limit for her, like a butterfly, she had wings,

She made the most of everyday and loved the simplest things,

Sometimes she sang “the sky is green and the grass is blue”,

But her motto remained, even then: “to thine own self be true”,

Her laughter was contagious and her generosity knew no bound,

A kind and gentle soul with the tenacity of a bluetick hound,

Dolly held onto what her mama taught her: “Love never fails”,

She may be gone from earth, but the wind hasn’t left her sails,

Her music lives on for all of us, as does her legacy of love,

And now with angel wings, she’s looking down from above.

Tammy Harvey

9/4/2026

Cloud Infatuation

 

Cloud Infatuation

Colossal, fluffy, cumulus clouds, aloft in the clear blue sky,

Billowing like comfy goose down, inducing a huge sigh,

Developing distinctive shapes only seen with imagination,

Lately, these massive clouds have been my infatuation,

Bright, white clouds sometimes with undersides dark and ominous,

Forecast our impending showers, amounts may look very voluminous,

Rainwater weighs heavily on clouds as it’s about to drop,

Yet the wind carries the cloud over and to another stop,

Someone in the distance benefits from the downpour,

Our essential rainfall is not threatening us anymore,

It is the thunderstorms of summer that unpredictably come and go,

Thunder rumbles loudly and lightning flashes to and fro,

One follows the other, and this fact makes me smile:

Light travels significantly faster than sound, 5 seconds is a mile,

Don’t forget to check the sky, there’s clouds that should be seen,

Take my advice, breathe a sigh, because it’s truly a glorious scene.

Tammy Harvey

7/10/2026

Fly the Friendly Skies

 

Distraction at Douglas International Airport

Normally when I fly from Raleigh, NC to my home state of Tennessee, I endure a brief layover in Charlotte which creates is a bit of a nightmare for me.  Inevitably, the connection time is too short for the next flight, especially if there is any delay in Raleigh.  Without fail, my connector flight is already boarding when I land in Charlotte.  I get off at gate E-32 and need to be at C-15 in 12 minutes, and it is a 15-minute walk!  I have found myself more than once running through the crowded hallways of Charlotte Douglas International dodging first one obstacle and then the next to avoid colliding with other passengers.  I generally have to check my luggage in Raleigh (free at the gate) because I know I cannot run with my bag in tow.  This airport is laid out like the spokes on a wheel.  The center hub is a food court area and each gate series A through E are the spokes.  To get to another gate series always requires a trek through the center hub.  I have missed more than one connector flight and have since paid closer attention to the layover time gap.  It is stressful to say the least.  There are no direct flights available from RDU (Raleigh) to TYS (Knoxville). 

Recently, I flew to Knoxville via Charlotte from RDU and had plenty of time to walk to my new gate.  I leisurely looked around at all the airport merchandise.  I even had the luxury of going to the bathroom as well as getting a slice of pizza and a drink.  This was too good to be true.  When I sat down at my boarding gate, I only had 20 minutes to wait.  I began looking at my phone.  I became engrossed in reading the details of a medical report of a heart test I had done.   The boarding began.  I was in the last group, group 9, so I knew it was still going to be a while.  I glanced up when they called group 6.  There were plenty of people still waiting for boarding.  I looked back down because on the other flight, the time between 6 and 9 was a long wait.  I didn’t realize that I was on a smaller plane now that boarded much more quickly.  When I looked up again the jetway door was closed, even though people were standing at the desk.  It turns out, these people were being held there and possibly were going to be taken off the flight.  I panicked and ran over to the desk attendant.  I said I was in group 9.  He said he called group 9 three times, why didn’t I respond?  I said I was looking down and didn’t hear.  I pleaded to get on.  He said he would have to check with the boarding attendant that was on the plane checking for seats.  I couldn’t believe this was happening.  After having plenty of time on my hands, I just sat still while my plane was being boarded?  There was no running this time and yet I was going to miss my flight?   I was a fool.  Normally, I am on pins and needles to get in line to board.  My phone was a distraction and my interest in my medical report took priority.  I was so upset with myself.  Then the attendant emerged from the jetway. I looked at her with anticipation.  They changed my seat assignment but allowed me to board!  Whew.  Charlotte Douglas International Airport just seems to be a stressor, no matter what the circumstances.    I have even had to spend overnight in a Charlotte hotel (without compensation) because of a power outage at McGee Tyson Airport during one of my trips, but that’s a story for another day!  “Fly the Friendly Skies”

Tammy Harvey

7/29/2026

Serenade

 

Serenade

In my backyard,

A frog,

Under the light of the moon,

Sat singing,

An unfamiliar tune,

He serenaded me,

In my slumber,

A lullaby,

A peaceful number,

Musically intriguing,

He caught my attention,

A music box of nature,

Beyond my comprehension,

Listening intently,

Not missing a single note,

I envisioned his plump, inflated throat,

Such a little one, but,

With impact nonetheless,

I don’t know about his mate,

But I’m sure she was impressed.

Tammy Harvey

6/22/2026

Mind Blown

 

Mind-blowing Encounter

The emoji where the top of the head is exploding, the symbol of “mind-blown”, is the only way I can describe what happened to me at a restaurant last evening.  As most of you know, my number in life is 333, everything I do seems to be related to the number 3.  It is described best in my profile for this blog.  Hence, the website name for this blog is threethirtythreepoetry.blogspot.com.  Last evening, I met a friend at a local restaurant for dinner and trivia.  I arrived first and got a table, and the server brought me water and a menu, but I let her know I was waiting for someone.  She checked on me again when my friend was a little late.  After getting my friend’s drink order and then giving us time to look at the menu, she returned to take our order.  My friend looked up and immediately noticed that the server was wearing a “333” necklace and commented on it.  The young girl shared that the number had been a significant one in her life and that things seemed to occur in 3’s in her life.  I told her it was also my number.  She proceeded to say that she was born at 3:33 and I shrieked “me too!”.  I asked, “am or pm?” and she said pm to which I screamed “me too!”.  It was as if I had met myself only about 40 years younger.  I actually had never met someone else with my passion for the number 333.  She shared that she always wore the necklace, never taking it off, not even to shower.  It was an Amazon purchase, and I told her I had purchased a “333” ring from Amazon.  My mind was absolutely blown.  It was like an incredible coincidence.  Her name was Dakota and I left her a tip of…you guessed it $3.33, just because, and my friend left a larger tip to compensate for mine.  Is this a coincidence?  I’m not sure I believe in coincidences.  It was sure a memorable evening.  If it had not been for my friend, however, I wonder if I would have eventually noticed it?

Tammy Harvey

8/5/2026

We Can Do Hard Things

 

We Can Do Hard Things

Recently, I have been flabbergasted by what others have accomplished.  These are not necessarily momentous, but not trivial either.  I think when someone sets their mind to do something, it is consequential, no matter the enormity of the task.  For example, my two-year-old and three-year-old granddaughters have conquered the plastic slide in the playroom with an additional trick.  After sliding down the slide they proceed immediately into a somersault.  For their ages, this impresses me.  My oldest grandson recently memorized the entirety of Robert Louis Stephenson’s poem “My Shadow” and recited it with such expression on stage in front of the fourth and fifth graders that I beamed with pride.  When he first received the assignment, he was a little intimidated, but he met the challenge and came in third place amongst his peers.  My other grandson, who is nearly seven, attended a day camp, all by himself, for the first time this summer.  He is finding his own confidence to do new things.  My oldest son has lost 30 pounds through diet and exercise alone, through dedication and without weight loss drugs.  He did it the old fashion way to improve his health.  His wife, a real estate agent, is on track to meet her personal goal for number of houses sold this year.  With purely hard work and resolve, she is reaching new heights.  Another of my daughters-in-law has begun memorizing the book of Romans.  I nearly fell off my chair when I heard her recite the first 3 chapters by memory without missing a word!  My third daughter-in-law and son have done a fair amount of travel over the past few years.  I recently picked them up at the airport after their flight only to find out they had learned to speak words in both Albanian and Montenegrin as preparation for their trip.  They could communicate with the locals.  I was astounded. My middle son has learned a new job task essential to his corporation employer.   He has been training and studying for the past few months. Currently, only he and the person going on maternity leave know how to accomplish this duty.  It sounds like job security to me.   My best friend has been battling breast cancer now for almost 9 years.  The stamina and mindset that it takes to continue to fight is admirable.  People all around me in my life continue to amaze me with the absolute courage and determination that they possess.  I am proud of all of them.  To each of them I say well done.

Tammy Harvey

7/6/2026

Walking on Sunshine with YOU

 

Walking on Sunshine with You

You’re walking on sunshine,

You’re already on cloud nine,

The sky is a true blue,

The clouds have a warm hue,

The atmosphere is cheerful,

But I’m feeling tearful,

I want to hold your hand,

And walk through the heavenly land,

How are you so far away, yet always near?

Memories will fade, I fear,

You’re walking on sunshine,

I know you are doing really fine,

I hope to join you there,

A place with no worries to bear,

I want to walk on sunshine with you,

It must be an incredible view,

Save me a place where time stands still,

Then we will walk on sunshine together, we will.

Tammy Harvey

7/2/2026

Typing Evolution

 

Typing Evolution

I own a 1950’s typewriter inherited from my parent,

It has stiff keys, an ink ribbon with a manual bar to advance it,

A Smith-Corona, heavy as lead, it was considered very fine,

But in the 1980’s, an electric typewriter was all mine,

I used it to type cover-letters, searching for employment,

The process was cumbersome and I did not enjoy it,

Although it was a lot faster, white correcting tape was essential,

Stop, correct, continue on; the process had potential,

But little did we know what advances would arrive,

Sometimes I even wonder now, how did we survive?

From typewriters to keyboards, the leap was exponential!

Laptops that go anywhere; it was quite consequential,

Typing classes became keyboarding, taught in all our schools,

New keys like Alt, Ctrl and Esc were not made for fools,

Correction on a screen is simple: backspace and delete,

Auto-correction and voice recognition made it more complete,

I can’t imagine typing on an old manual machine,

It was so rudimentary and now it is extreme!

Kids today would not believe the effort that it took,

Just to type a simple letter, an envelope, or a book!

Tammy Harvey

6/22/2026

Ring the Bell

 

Ring the Bell

When a patient finishes a round of radiation treatment, there is a tradition that is carried out.  The patient is allowed to ring a large brass bell hanging on the wall in the waiting room.  They have passed by that bell many times on their way to the treatment room. It gives them something to look forward to.   It symbolizes the end of a journey.  I recently was privileged last week to watch my friend ring that glorious shiny bell, and it wasn’t her first rodeo.  The sound was deep and resounding.  It was sweet, yet bittersweet.  The fact that someone has to have radiation at all is not joyful, yet the end of the treatment itself is a joyous time.  With no certainty that the patient won’t have to return again for the same treatment in the future, it still is a mark of accomplishment.  It signifies another hurdle has been cleared in the race against the dreadful cancer cells.  My brother-in-law will also be ringing a similar bell in his place of treatment on Monday as he completes a series of 24 proton radiation treatments.

 Everyday many people are ringing a victory bell.  It is a victory, however, just to survive a stage 4 diagnosis with determination to endure the ever-present disease.  A disease that evades the researchers for cures and mutates into other monstrosities to avoid the current treatments.  The number of lives affected by cancer, whether patients, caregivers, friends and family members or children, is astounding.  I am constantly in awe of the warriors, alive and deceased, who never give/gave up. They tolerate the side effects of toxic drugs, surgeries and procedures, constant pain, radiation, chemotherapy, physical therapy, never-ending doctor appointments, a port, blood draws, numerous scans, and setbacks.  They deserve to ring a brass bell and a whole lot more!

Tammy Harvey

7/10/2026

Summer

 

Summer

As spring slowly surrendered to summer,

It carried with it a sense of slumber,

We counted down the days until school was out,

On the final day, we exited with a celebratory shout!

Sleeping late with no homework and swimming in the pool,

Riding bikes, skipping rocks and never lamenting school,

As children, we ran barefooted, footloose and fancy-free,

Drinking from the water hose and climbing in tall trees,

Going fishing, collecting rocks and creating paint-by-number,

Playing freeze tag, getting tan, nothing would encumber,

Outside, in the dark, we looked up at the stars,

Chasing fireflies tirelessly and putting them in our jars,

Looking for four-leafed clovers, lying face down in the grass,

We sat quietly among the moss and sticks and began to remember our class,

Then we longed to see our classmates as summer drew to a close,

Desires of our heart had changed, with the season, I suppose,

You can’t have your cake and eat it too, as “they” always say,

I never understood what that saying meant anyway!

Counting down the days until our new school year began,

Excited to see everyone together once again,

We returned to school in the fall without much hesitation,

Yet summer had provided a fun-filled time of recreation.

Tammy Harvey  4/27/2026

Little Things

 

Little Things

Did you ever stare into the clouds to see what shapes they made?

Or gather under an oak tree to cool off in the shade?

Did you run around barefooted until your feet were tough,

Or eat wild blackberries off the vine until you’ve had enough?

Did you spend hours on the grass looking for a four-leafed clover,

Or blow onto a dandelion to spread the seeds all over?

Did you find flat rocks on the bank to skip across the water?

Did you know that a single rock is special to an otter?

Have you ever heard complete silence, a very intriguing sound?

Or treasured a beautiful seashell that you looked for, and you found?

Have you stood beside the ocean and watched the sun come up?

Or welcomed a dog to lick your face when it is just a pup?

Have you watched the wind wave the flag high upon the pole?

Did you lose your voice screaming as your team scored the winning goal?

Have you watched a bird build a nest just outside your window?

Has your heart ever skipped a beat when the music hit a crescendo?

Did looking at old photographs ever make you sigh?

All these things are happiness and let me tell you why,

It’s the littlest things that matter in the bigger scheme of life,

They all add up to enormous satisfaction, despite the usual strife.

Tammy Harvey

6/15/2026

Siblings and Strawberries

 

Picking Strawberries

There is a story still told to us,

Of how my mother and her siblings got in a fuss,

While picking strawberries for a neighbor nearby,

Little Julia ultimately began to cry,

Because she had eaten too many and her belly hurt,

My Uncle Jim said, “Let’s all help her work”,

Little sister needs to finish her row,

He said, “Let’s all help her before we go”,

Aunt Dorothy reluctantly lent a hand,

Aunt Sylvia did not quite understand,

Why did they have to do their work and hers too?

But it was hot and they had more chores to do,

 For a penny a box they picked before school,

And they tried to practice “the golden rule”,

It was a mile to walk home after they were done,

Should we assume they were having fun?!

Tammy Harvey  4/30/2026

Full Cirlce

 

Full Circle

In 2006, my youngest son and my husband were there for Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals at the RBC Arena in Raleigh.  My son was nearly 12 years old at the time.  The Carolina Hurricanes were tied with the Edmonton Oilers 3-3, going into this historic game on June 19, 2006.  Rod Brind’amour was the captain of the team.  The Canes were victorious in double overtime, and the place erupted in ear-piercing noise with buckets of confetti falling from the RBC rafters.  I have photos of the ecstasy that occurred which my husband took with his cellphone. Those photos were preserved immediately and appropriately in a scrapbook.  My husband was 48 years young at the time.  I’m sure this was one of the highlights of his life.  After all, our neighbor had graciously given him the tickets to experience this event.

Now fast forward 20 years, my youngest son is 31 and is married, living and working in Raleigh with his lovely wife.  My husband passed away in 2018 at the age of 60 from an unexpected GBM brain tumor.  He fought cancer valiantly, but in 9 months, he was no longer here.  Other dramatic changes have occurred since the first Hurricanes franchise Stanley Cup in 2006. The hockey arena is now the Lenovo Center, formerly the PNC center since being the RBC.  Rod Brind’amour, former player, is the head coach.  It has come full circle.  But some things have not changed:  

When I picked up dinner last evening only a few hours before puck drop, there was a dad and his two young sons in front of me in line.  They all wore Canes shirts of different varieties (Jarvis t-shirt, Slavin jersey).  I also had on my Canes Championship T-shirt.  We conversed shortly about the upcoming final games, and he shared that they were headed to the Lenovo Center after dinner for the Game 6 watch party.

Later that evening, as I watched our players hoist the Stanley Cup over their heads, I couldn’t help but remember how that was probably one of my husband’s favorite memories in 2006, and how that dad I met at Alpaca was also making that same memory with his own sons in 2026. It has been thrilling to watch this team bring such joy to all its fans.

Tammy Harvey

6/15/2026

Spread a Little Kindness

 

Kindness

In a world of hornets, be a honeybee,

When the sun is scorching, be a shade tree,

In the darkness of the night,

Be a bright and shining light,

It’s a choice you need to make,

Try to give before you take,

Be the shoulder that catches tears,

Calming those who have real fears,

A kind word will go a long, long way,

To make someone else’s day,

A smile, a nod, opening a door,

Can lift someone’s spirits off the floor,

In the depths of despair, be a glimmer of hope,

When someone is struggling, cast them a rope,

In turn you will find that one of these days,

The favor will return to you, in abundant ways!

Kindness doesn’t cost us anything,

But it’s worth is more than a diamond ring.

Tammy Harvey  4/27/2026

Grievances

 

Sick in a Drought

Too much television, too much phone,

Too much time being alone,

When I’m sick, I feel isolated,

When I’m sick, I am incapacitated,

A box of tissue, I’m going through,

Not to mention the sore throat too,

Feeling bad makes me feel sad,

Diamond art is what I had,

I spent my hours moving dots,

To their designated spots,

Four days now I’ve been under the weather,

Recovery seems to be taking forever,

I am not usually one to complain,

But besides this illness, we need some rain!

These are all my grievances now,

I know I will get through this somehow!

Tammy Harvey

4/18/2026

My Number

 

Digital or Audible

If you have read my blog, you know the number 3 is special to me.  In particular, 333 is “my number”.  It has been a part of my life since birth.  I was born at 3:33 pm.   My mother was born in 1933.  My street address is 1333.  I have 3 sons who are 3 years apart.  For many years, when I woke up at night, the digital clock would read precisely “3:33”.  I have that number appear in my daily life continuously, whether on a receipt, an advertisement, an airline seat, a road sign, etc.  Many days, after not looking at the clock for hours, I will glance at my phone or my car clock and it will be 3:33. Recently, I have had some trouble trying to get to sleep or waking up periodically during the night.  The battery on my bedside clock is dead, and I am currently looking for an electric one to replace it.  In the meantime, when I wake up, I have no idea what time it is.  Has it been hours or minutes since I went to sleep?  Being the curious one, I simply said out loud “Siri, what time is it?”.  My phone is on the nightstand in the charger and the reply I received made me smile in the darkness.  The voice of Siri rang out: “it is three thirty-three am”.  No kidding, I thought to myself.  Of course, it is.  Digital or audible, the response remains the same.  It is “my number”!

 Tammy Harvey

4/18/2026

The Single Ramp Story

 

The Single Ramp

Spring had sprung and it was time to get the fishing boat out of the garage for a test run.  My son and I chose to take it to the Eno River to do some white bass fishing.  It’s about a 30-mile drive and the weather was perfect.  My son warned me that the place we were going to launch had only one ramp.  It could get crowded, he said, especially with the abundance of kayakers that go to this spot.  When we arrived, there were lots of cars and empty trailers in the small lot.  The ramp, however, was available and we dropped the boat into the water without delay.  The motor fired right up and purred in a soft hum as we slowly made our way up the river.  My son was aware of the fishermen already in their spots casting their lines.  He would slow down to minimize our wake when passing them then speed up in between along the curvy waterway.  After traveling a few miles, we stopped and started to cast our rods toward the bank, drifting along.  We tried three or four spots without any luck.

 At some point, my son suggested we go downstream, below the ramp site and give it a try there.  We passed the ramp and went around the bend where water was shallow.  There were many people fishing from the bank.  A fallen tree lay out over the water and rocks were piled up along the shore.  This was our spot.  I caught a stick, then a leaf, then a sweet gum ball.  No joke, there was a gumball on my hook!  My son cast into the right spot and proceeded to catch the largest white bass of his life.  It was a female full of eggs and probably weighed 4 lbs.  He was delighted as his rod bent nearly in two during the landing.  I took the appropriate photos to document the big catch before releasing the fish.  We could go home now, knowing we had accomplished our goal.  But before we left, I proceeded to get hung up in a tree limb and lost my lure.  That was my last cast.  In fact, I got hung several times on this trip but managed to get out of it most of the time.  I did manage to catch one small fish. 

We proceeded back to the boat ramp. My son pulled up to the dock, and I was instructed to hold the boat so it would not drift into the shallow.  He went to get the trailer, leaving the boat to idle.  In the meantime, a guide with his clients pulled up to the shoreline next to me.  Also, a pontoon boat came in and was idling behind me.  The river is narrow at this point, and it was becoming quite crowded.  Then it happened, a pick-up truck with 2 kayaks in the bed backed down the ramp.   An elderly man and his wife got slowly out of the vehicle and proceeded to slide their kayaks off the truck.  The wife was dressed head to toe in a black wetsuit.  No disrespect but she looked like a walking seal.  The man got back into the truck and proceeded to move the truck while leaving the two kayaks and his wife standing on the ramp at water’s edge.  By now, probably five or six of us boats were waiting.  Of course, the man had to find parking then walk gingerly back down the steep slope.  My son was proceeding to back our trailer down, not realizing that someone was there.  I motioned to him to stop.  The elderly man proceeded to leisurely take his shirt off, sit down on the dock and put on his water shoes.  At this time, the man in the pontoon yelled out “Take your time, we’ve got all day!” in a sarcastic voice.  The old man replied, “We sure will”.  He then began to push his kayaks into the water, whistling while he worked.  The pontoon driver yelled “If the game warden was here, he would write your ass a ticket” to which the whistling man replied, “I don’t think you can get a ticket for being an asshole”.  He helped his wife into the kayak, and they slowly but surely got on their way.  My son continued to back down and we loaded up.  The pontoon driver shook his head at me in disbelief of the entire situation.  He commented on how quiet our boat motor was.  My son replied he would not have left it running had he known how long it would take.  The highlight of our fishing trip was the large white bass, but the story of the boat ramp was a close second!

Tammy Harvey

4/18/2026

Appalachian Influence

 

Appalachian Influence

Being raised in East Tennessee, there are phrases that I heard growing up that are unique to the area.  I have recently been reminded of several.  For example, “lick and a promise” is a phrase I heard all of my childhood.  Recently, my son called me and asked me what it means.  His mother-in-law had used it, and he had never heard of it.  I explained it to him that it means to give a half-hearted effort.  I asked him if he had ever heard of “granny beads” and he had not.  When playing or working outside, getting sweaty and dirty, you can develop a dirty ring in the crease of your neck.  These were referred to as granny beads when I was a child and when taking a bath, we were instructed to make sure and wash them off!

Lately, I have encountered an Instagram account called appalachian_bluebird which made me aware that most of the dialect and words I heard as a child were of Appalachian origin.  Also, a fellow popped up on my feed called Appalachian Sam (YouTube).  He shares words from his Eastern Kentucky background.  Most of the words he presents are very familiar to me as well. 

A list of words/sayings (with definitions) said by my parents and grandparents when I was growing up in East Tennessee:

“poke”: a paper bag  *  “dope”: a soda  *  “commode”:  toilet *  “like it or lump it”: deal with it  * “root hog or die”:  rely on yourself  *  “mad as an old wet hen” or “fit to be tied”:  angry “tough as a pine knot”:  durable  *  “a coon’s age”:  a very long time  * “that dog won’t hunt”:  that idea won’t work * “knee high to a grasshopper”:  short * “right smart”:  a large amount or a good distance  *  “all tore up”:  very upset  *  “sorry”:  something of no value * “tighter than Dick’s hatband”:  very stingy  *  “diddly-squat” or “aught”:  nothing,  zero

“crooked as a dog’s hind leg”:  dishonest or physically not straight  *  “they lawwww”:  an exclamation of excitement *  “I swanny”:  I declare * “twiddling your thumbs”:  wasting time * “right quick”:  fast * “too big for your britches”:  arrogant * “shindig”:  party * “between me, you and the fencepost”:  a secret not to be repeated * “plum/plumb”:  totally or completely * “reckon”:  think, suppose

“buggy”:  a shopping cart * “earbobs”:  earrings * “pocketbook”:  purse * “holler”:  hollow, valley  * “fixin’ to”:  preparing * “no count”- worthless, lazy * “directly”:  later on *  “Coke”:  any carbonated drink * “yonder”:  over there * “stob”: a stick protruding from the ground *    “bloomers” or “drawers”:  underwear * “cattywampus” or “catty-corner” or “sigogglin’”:  askew, diagonally * “ill”- bad temperament, not sick * “puny”:  sick * “light bread”- white sandwich bread  * “play pretties”:  toys * “nary”:  none * “y-uns”: y’all  *  “spell”:  a while * “for the birds” or “hill of beans”:  something useless * “pert-near”:  almost

“mash”:  to press or push * “quare”:  strange or odd * “tickled”:  happy * “hot as blue blazes”:  high temperature * “bright-eyed and bushy-tailed”:  ready * “fair to middlin’”:  okay  * “study on it”:  think * “high on the hog”:  fancy  *  “I’ve got bigger fish to fry”:  more important things to do * “high cotton”:  prosperity * “jerk a knot in your tail” or “tan your hide”:  discipline * “sugar”:  kisses * “icebox”:  freezer * “stinks to high heaven”:  smells really bad *  “get off your high horse”:  stop being so self-righteous *  “I’ll be John Brown”:  disbelief  *  “kindly”:  kind of  * “devonette”: couch * “darkened the door”:  appear at someone’s residence

Tammy Harvey  4/18/2026

Maypole Dance

  Maypole Dance

It is funny how some memories stick in your mind from long ago and others are forever lost.  As May arrives, I remember being a student in the second grade.  We were taught to weave the maypole in a dance that was presented as a school program.  We were dressed in frilly spring dresses, possibly all white, with patented leather shoes and lace-trimmed knee socks.  The boys were also dressed in fancy spring attire. I don’t remember as many details as I thought I did, but I do remember performing the Maypole dance and how it made me feel.  We practiced our parts for weeks.  The pole was in the middle as we gathered in a large circle around it.  The circle was painted on the ground with each of our spots designated.  The pole was tall and had a wide base so as not to turn over.  Beautiful pastel-colored wide ribbons draped down from a circular disc at the top of the pole.  When we retrieved our individual ribbons, we formed a teepee shape.  The song was an instrumental folk song as I recall.  After searching I’m going to predict it was the “Maypole Dance by RCA Victor Folk Dance Orchestra” or something similar.  It was held outside in front of the school in the parking lot, and the song was blasted over a loudspeaker.

When the dance first started, we went in unison in and out toward the pole to the beat of the music. Then we turned and went to the left for a while and then to the right, equally spaced from each other creating a twirling umbrella effect.  At the opportune time, we began to weave the ribbons by alternating going under and then over the people who were moving in the opposite direction. Every other person was assigned to travel, either clockwise or counterclockwise, and in doing so, we caused the ribbons to braid down the pole.  It was so fascinating to be a part of this celebration as a child.  I remember being mindful about not dropping my ribbon as I raised the ribbon high over my head then lowered it. Again and again, I went under one ribbon and over the next drawing closer and closer to the pole. There were probably four Maypoles or more being woven at the same time that day as all the students in the second grade participated. 

That performance made a big impact on me.  Nearly 60 years later and I am still joyful when I think about that dance.  My current research states that it was a celebration of spring that originated from ancient pagan fertility rituals.  I suppose the Maypole dance held on May 1^st is still being practiced somewhere around the world.  I am just happy that I had the chance to experience it as a child and have it become a core memory of mine.

Tammy Harvey

4/9/2026   

Farmer Hannah

 

Farmer Hannah

She fed the bunnies and the chickens too,

Just as if she knew exactly what to do,

She squealed as she rode atop the toy horse,

Dressed in her overalls and boots, of course,

She pushed the toy wheelbarrow and played in the dirt pan,

Farmer Hannah watered plants with a watering can,

With a bucket in each hand, she ran toward the pens,

Hoping that this day will never end,

If it were not for her naptime, she would have stayed,

She loves to visit farm animals and is not afraid,

She is just a little girl who is not even two,

And she knows now that the cow says “moo”!

(She first thought the cow said “pizza”.)

Tammy Harvey

4/9/2026

Walking a Pet

 

Walking a Pet

Now you may think I’ve lost my mind, but I have a witness to the fact,

About something unusual I saw, much like a circus act,

Driving through my neighborhood, there was a sight to see,

My son was driving and saw it too; he could vouch for me,

We saw dog-walkers, joggers and someone riding a bike,

Folks entering the greenway trail, going for a hike,

When all of a sudden, we passed it, something I had never seen,

A lady was “walking” her pet, and it was big and green!

She carried a huge thick limb, and on the branch, it sat,

A large and exotic-looking parrot who was actually quite fat,

Now I’m not talking about a small, delicate parakeet,

I’m saying a large green parrot was “walking” down the street!

You never know what you might see on sidewalks nowadays,

Clean your glasses, pay attention, and prepare to be amazed.

Tammy Harvey

4/9/2026

Springtime?

 

Springtime?

The bluebirds are eating from my feeder, and my garden flag is waving in the breeze,

Is it truly springtime, or is it just a tease?

The sun is shining brightly as the daffodils emerge,

Is it truly springtime or is it on the verge?

I’ve seen some playful butterflies and even bumblebees,

Is it truly springtime?  Please put my mind at ease,

Everything is greening out, my allergies tell me so,

I demand that spring has sprung, but heaven only knows,

In March, we may have inklings of all four seasons,

Warm then cold, then frost, then hot: we don’t understand the reasons,

Short pants or sweatshirt, what will it be?

Oh, in springtime, we can only wait and see!

Tammy Harvey

4/9/2026

Pine Tree Crosses

 

Pine Tree Crosses

Every day I get so many unsolicited articles on my phone.  Some are advertisements, others are offers, and most are outrageous stories, which are untrue.  So much fake news is fabricated, I am very skeptical to take what I read, especially on Instagram, at face value.  However, on Good Friday I was pleasantly surprised by a post which explained a unique feature of pine trees.  Now, I am not a big fan of pine trees this time of year because their pollen is falling and that turns my respiratory system into a mess.  The itchy throat and headache are enough to make me want to hide inside. Yet, once again I am astounded by the wonders of nature and have to share this remarkable fact. 

Very simply, this unknown lady on an Instagram video explained how the pine tree has a phenomenon in early spring, often close to Easter, where new growth appears and forms a cross-like shape.  This is especially true for white pines.  The “candle” part (new growth) has two small buds out each side that make the cross.  She then showed a photo of the pine trees in this stage.  I immediately could not believe this as I have never heard of this characteristic.  Living in SC and NC most of my life, I have been around an abundance of pine trees.  I ventured out to prove this was another example of clickbait, only to find that on Good Friday, there were indeed tiny crosses at the end of the pine branches high up in the tall pine trees.  What?!  God is so intricate in his creation that he would have this symbol of his death be evident on Good Friday.  I am so pleased this time that I was in the algorithm that produced this fun fact for me.  It is both amazing and inspirational.  It is one of those things that I won’t forget.  Being from Tennessee, I was taught about the significance of the dogwood blossoms, which are also currently in bloom.  These white flowers are cross-shaped as well and have red tipped petals that symbolize the five wounds in Christ’s hands, feet and head.

In addition, the Maypop (passionflower) is symbolic of the Passion of Christ.  In the 16^th century, missionaries used its intimate anatomy to describe the crucifixion.  The crown of thorns is the corona; the wounds are the five anthers, and the nails are the three stigmas.  The climbing tendrils represent the whips used to torture Jesus.  The ten petals and sepals depict the 10 faithful apostles (excludes Judas and Peter) and the three-lobed leaves represent the Holy Trinity:  Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

Isn’t it phenomenal how hidden deep within the structures of nature, there are so many symbolic signs of God’s love for us?  If only we would take the time to notice them.

Wishing the peace that comes from the power of the Resurrection to everyone.

Tammy Harvey

4/4/2026 

Close, but no Cigar

 

B-I-N-G-O

The crowd is large, the room is a buzz,

Nothing brings excitement like Bingo does,

Everyone here is in their golden years,

Trading smiles with each other as the hour nears,

Picking lucky numbers on the worn-out cards,

Every other Tuesday, we are really diehards,

The place becomes silent when it is starting time,

Numbers ring out like a church bell’s chime,

Anticipation grows as one number is lacking,

Waiting for that win; it’s a little nerve-wracking,

The caller announces the next number… and then,

Someone yells “BINGO”, and I did not win,

Close but no cigar, as they say,

I will win another day,

It’s a plus to win, but the real prize here,

Is being with friends that I hold dear.

Tammy Harvey

3/30/2026

Forgetful

 

I Forgot

Birthdays and appointments are on the list,

Of things I often will forget,

Sometimes I walk into a room,

Did I come for a snack, or did I come for a broom?

Did I lock the door?  Did I take my pill?

Did I make the phone call?  Did I pay that bill?

My memory is not what it used to be,

I’m leaving now, do I have my key?

I’m always misplacing my glasses or phone,

Please let me know that I’m not alone,

Something what I tend to forget the most,

Is updating this blog with a new post!

Tammy Harvey

3/24/2026

Tomboy

 

Tomboy

Bruised shins and scrapped knees,

Interested in climbing trees,

Messy bun or ponytail,

This girl is tough, tough as nails,

Rough and tumble is her way,

She’s an adventurer every day,

Dirty face and hands; don’t care,

She will wear what daddy wears,

With camouflage pants and matching shirt,

She’s not afraid of a little dirt,

Her hair is sometimes in a tangle,

And most times she is hard to wrangle,

Sweet as candy, but stubborn as a mule,

She won’t be anybody else’s fool,

A rod and reel are her best wish,

She desires to catch a fish,

Or throw a ball, or kick a rock,

She is friends with all livestock,

Her courage is admirable; her smile is contagious,

She is mannerly, but her energy is outrageous,

All in all, she brings us joy,

She is our princess and tomboy!

Tammy Harvey

3/16/2026

Boredom

 

Boredom

It seems children these days expect to be constantly entertained.  With the introduction of handheld screen devices, they are just as addicted to the endless stream of information as we are as adults.  The downtime, the doing nothing, watching nothing, and learning to fill their time with innovative play is a dying concept.  It concerns me that children are consuming all the noise of today without any silence.  Silence, a time to reflect and think on one’s own without a bombardment of outside distractions is essential.  Boredom fosters imagination and innovation.  The silence they would call boredom is actually good for them.  Children of today don’t need to be scheduled with an abundance of activities to fill idle time. Rather, they need downtime to just be.  

I remember as a child being bored. I remember how my mother would remedy the situation if I complained I was bored.  She would assign me a list of chores to help me with my boredom.  This solved the problem of expressing boredom in our household.  You don’t have anything to do?  Okay, I’ll give you something to do.  This boredom was especially extreme when I was at my grandmother’s house for a week in the summertime and even more so on Sundays there.  We weren’t allowed to do certain things on Sunday; mostly it was reserved for worshiping, eating, and visiting with others.  I remember when my grandmother taught me how to crochet.  I was consumed with it and spent a lot of time during the weekdays making a large round cushion cover.  On Sunday, however, she did not allow me to crochet or watch tv.  We were city children and I often could read from her facial expressions that she considered us lazy and underfoot.  She was raised on hard work and farm chores from an early age.  As teens, we would sleep too late for her liking, want to take a bath everyday and complain about what she considered our pampered life.  She did not allow us to bathe every day.  If we wanted to wash our hair, we could choose to dunk our heads into the rain barrel, shampoo and rinse.  I must admit, rainwater was extremely soft and worked wonderfully for hair washing.  On bath days, mostly just Saturday, she only allowed us to put an inch or two of water in the bathtub, and there was no shower.  Nothing was wasted and especially not water.  She raised her children during the Depression and did not part from her conservative ways. 

We would watch her work sunup to sundown and as I look back, we weren’t of much help to her.  I remember going with her to the barn when she milked the cow in the evening and watched her slop the hogs in the pen.  I was mostly scared of the cattle in the pasture.  We did help her water her flowerbeds which she was so particular with.  We dipped an empty one-gallon paint bucket into the rain barrel and carried bucketfuls to the flowers she pointed out to us.  We could not help her weed the flowers as we weren’t trusted to know the difference between plants and weeds.  We watched her do the laundry out in the garage, separate from the house, with a wringer washer which we weren’t allowed to touch.  Then we watched her hang all the clothes on the clotheslines.  Again, no help as we were too short to reach the line.  I might have handed her a clothespin a time or two.  I remember just how stiff the bath towels always were; they were like boards after drying in the sun.  We watched her make biscuits from scratch everyday and cook a hot lunch for us while always wearing an apron.  My grandfather, a carpenter, would come home for lunch.  She gathered vegetables from the garden and prepared meals that were never fully appreciated by us at the time.  We helped her pick up apples from around the apple tree and watched her carefully peel them, wasting none of them, by cutting out all of the bruises.  We watched her break string beans and shuck corn.  All the scraps would go to the hogs. She always made me my favorite macaroni and cheese and/or blackberry cobbler.  We picked the blackberries together down in the pasture field.  The food we had for lunch was carefully placed in an empty kitchen cupboard after lunch and brought out for supper but not reheated.

Yes, we were bored.  We wanted to watch television, which she limited.  We wanted to sit directly in front of the box fan because we were accustomed to air-conditioning and she had none.  It got hot in her house during July, so we complained.  We were city children, not accustomed to the simpler way of life.  In a way, we were just like the children of today.  We wanted to be entertained.  Oh, but to look back and see that we were so fortunate to be bored.  We experienced a new way of life that was only a glimpse into our mother’s upbringing.  The difference was she was expected to work alongside her mother while we were mere onlookers.  We mostly played jacks on the back porch, guessed car colors coming over the horizon from the porch swing and climbed trees to discover baby birds in a nest.  We colored coloring books and drew pictures.  We played with the only “toy” my grandmother kept at her house, Tinker Toys.  We weren’t nearly as bored as we claimed to be.

Sometimes I just feel that in today’s society, children are missing out on the boring days of summer.  If they are in the house all day staring at a screen while playing computer games or watching television, they miss out on the truly incredible time of being a child.  They need to be bored, really bored.  Only then will they know what they can imagine.   

Tammy Harvey

2/28/2026