The pair of Storytellers’ Chairs have returned to the mountain fully restored and ready for more. I have been busy saving the stories as well. Legacy isn’t just about things.
In the 1960’s the chairs were a plush green. They sat in my grandparents’ livingroom overlooking Hibriten Mountain. My maternal grandfather was the main storyteller.
Grannypaw in green
In the 1980’s the chairs were covered in a rosy velvet. They were in my parents’ home in Charlotte.
Daddy in rosy Hong Kong
Now, they are a lovely blue and sitting in the family room of my parents’ dreamhouse in the mountains of North Carolina.
New blue and the Zebra, too.
You may recognize the Zebra table nearby. Having these important family heirlooms restored and placed here makes me feel like more time circles have been completed.
I have fond memories of times with the former owners of these chairs. I miss my precious relatives who are no longer living. I especially miss my mama, Dottie Ann/ Kiki and her younger brother Uncle Jim both of whom we lost in 2025.
Uncle Jim and Dottie Ann/ Kiki/ Mama
These family pieces being restored and ready for more years with our family brings me both peace and joy.
Many thanks to Blue Ridge Upholstery in Vilas, North Carolina for doing such an excellent job for us.
Sometimes we must make decisions that our people do not understand. The need inside is so strong that the pulls from outside must be ignored. That is where I have been for the past year and a half. I know I belong on the mountain, despite the challenges.
My family gifted me a battery port and solar panel to keep me connected even during power outages.
This is the best give of all. Maybe they cannot understand my decision, but they support my decision.
One of our family traditions is to ride around town looking at Christmas lighting and decorations. We found a new favorite this year.
We visited the known hotspots along the main streets. There are two streets with rows of giant, blow-up Santas with an occasional snowman. There is a neighborhood of assorted lighted balls hanging from the trees. We even found a street of blow-up nutcrackers in town.
We visited the usual yard near us with dozens of the old-type of plastic lighted figures. (I have posted on this one before.) The choir on the bleachers was missing this year, but the snowmen, ceramic look-alike trees, toy soldiers, teddy bears, angels and a nativity scene were present in the presentation.
My husband and son found our new favorite while looking for something else. That is how life works!
This neighborhood was developed in the hundreds of acres of nature that surrounded our home for decades. I was glad to see the sparsely populated development in the previous woodlands getting into the holiday spirit.
Several of the yards were over-the-top lit up. There was even a lighted herd of deer where a real herd probably bedded down back in the day. They had a good assortment of Santas and snowmen and lights of all colors strung across roofs and trees. Just when we were getting to the deadend of the road, we spotted a bright glow on a hill.
Wowza! The over-the-top yards got topped by the most ecclectic grouping of lighted figures ever. These folks did not stop with tradition!
There was a gingerbread house with two dancing cookies.
The tree in the middle of the yard held colorful lighted ornaments. There were several angels. The gold one had flapping wings. The lighted mailbox’s door opened and closed. There were cute teddybears here and there.
The giant word JOY was behind the tree and Merry Christmas was down in front. Big lighted candles and snowflakes were scattered about. These images were fancy versions of the expected holiday decor.
This should have been more than enough cheer to spread, but these folks were not done yet. They had more to say this holiday.
Front and center of the glowing menagerie stood the three stand-outs of the ensemble. A golden Statue of Liberty glistening beautifully was noticed first.
Beside Lady Liberty was the silver Eiffel Tower, and beside it was a big, glowing Ferris Wheel.
WOWZA!
There is a story here. I hope I get to hear it before I leave town. I will let you know if/ when I do. It is going to be difficult to stay away until I know what inspired such a display.
Merry Christmas readers. I hope you each have an over-the-top holiday with events full of twinkling lights and dancing cookies and liberty.
What happens when the storyline falls apart and you are left looking at a completely different tale. In my digging through family artifacts to write a book that was supposed to be about paternalism and over-reaching parenting in past generations of my family history, I have discovered evidence to the contrary that was never mentioned.
The thread that joined the parts has been broken. The stories have shifted. How do I piece this history back together. No one is left alive to ask about any of this.
Does every family clean up their past and hold the next generation to higher standards? What do I do with this mess?
It is funny how one conversation or one letter can change everything.
Envelope with a surprise inside. No date stamp.
I found this last night as I purged another box of letters and papers. I may have seen this letter before in the box of letters from my Gran to my great, great aunt Ethel. I got up in the middle of the night to check for a date stamp on the envelope. There was not one.
Inside this envelope was a letter from my mom’s sister thanking her for sending the copy to be copied.
So my mom found this letter after my Gran died and thought enough of its contents to mail it to Canada to be copied and returned.
Box of letters that looks like a book on bottom shelf, far left, bottom of the stack.
This flagged that letter for me. Upon closer inspection, I realized a new part of the story was in there. How did I miss this? My cousin now has the originals. I am anxious to see if this letter is in the box and if it has my sticky note attached to it. This will confirm my craziness!
I must add a side story here. I found the box of letters from my Gran to Aunt Ethel in 2024 as we were cleaning out the house to sell it. I took pictures of everything in the house in 2022. I did not know that the box of letters was actually a box, because it was disguised as a book. So to find photo of where it was all those years, I had to go through thousands of photos, mostly plants, to find a picture of the bookcase in my parents’ bedroom.
It has occurred to me that I am the only one who can carry this through. I am the one with the photos and memories. I would never have had the time to do all this if bad things had not happened to put me in the right place as the world has shifted around my family.
I cried in my favorite Mexican restaurant tonight. I was trying to tell the woman working there how proud I am of Miss Mexico in the Miss Universe pageant for standing up for herself.
Her son came to translate. We both teared up and clasped hands. There we were, two mothers from two countries standing in solidarity against sexism. Will this ever end? Not if it is tolerated anytime, anywhere.
I am not a fan of beauty pageants. I did not grow up watching them. I have watched the clip of Miss Mexico rising from her seat as she was being scolded and called dumb. I witnessed the contempt of the organizer as he called for security to remove her.
I felt pride to see so many other contestants rise in support of their fellow contestant. All women should walk out on this type of disrespect.
Women do not get to choose when to stand up against it. It must be addressed every time it occurs. Zero tolerance is the only solution to such misbehavior.
The president of the strongest country in the world sees females as objects to be used and abused. The Gatsby-themed Halloween party is just the latest display of this attitude for the whole world to witness.
These Miss Universe contestants walked out wearing sashes bearing their country’s names. They chose to represent the women in their country and all women.
Pretty, sweet and kind are no protection from the bad behavior of the sexist beasts. Stand strong beauty queens. Little girls are watching.