…Being Real type of Day …

"The hardest walk is walking alone, but it is also the walk that makes you strongest." 

— Somedays are made to take you back, to pull at your heartstrings, to charge your inner being with memories so strong it’s as if you’re once again in that moment. Spring has arrived in full gorgeous multi color splendor, this week, when we prepare for our Easter celebrations in East Tennessee. Mother Nature has been somewhat undecided about the weather, cold, hot, warm, windy, we have 6 little winters in Tennessee, and we have been experiencing them one by one. I love the changing of the seasons in my home state, but as I have become older my body is not so willing to be in constant disarray, as to how to dress. Enough already! 

Lane Home Place Dogwoods over Amy's memorial side garden

My favorite dining out mode as of late is brunch, it’s not too much to digest, it’s midday, and it just right. Unfortunately trying to get to where you would like to go is like working on a jigsaw puzzle, finding a roadway to take you there is like a key piece has gone missing. It appears that every road in the Knoxville area is under construction, “Katy bar the door: is an idiom that fits this situation. There are times when I just want basic, not over the top, so our local Waffle House was calling my name, cheesy eggs, raisin toast, with apple butter, and scattered and smothered hash browns, with a sweet, iced tea ,add lemon, was what I was hankering for. Waffle House is about as real as you can get, unless you go to Scotties, our long-time neighbor, Ed’s favorite, go to place, but I have never been there in the 47 years we’ve owned this house. Back to being real, you walk in the all-lady workers shout at you “welcome to Waffle House, sit where you want honey.” I sat, I ordered, I watched and I listened to the constant carrying on’s, that has so much real, it almost makes you think you’re on a funniest video, segment. I am a people watcher, this is a place where you can get your fill, in just a few minutes. Most of the women that were working today, were older than me, another Ed’ saying ‘slow but sure’, would signify the process, but they are down to earth, hard-working women, trying to make a living, doing a really difficult restaurant job, with at times, trying cliental, for low wages and tips, trying to make a living to survive. I could not do it!

 

My no nonsense breakfast hit the spot, and I was soon on my way, to meet the challenges trying to get to the grocery store, on the mess they call Emory Road. Finished my list of need to get ‘er done, out and abouts, stopped by to pick up my one and only prescription, that I take, and it was only $1.27 cents. The cost keeps going down, and I figure at this rate, if I keep living, they will have to pay me to keep taking it, by this time next year. Mind you I am not complaining, I am grateful, but so many of my counterparts are not so blessed, it is a hard and sad life if you have to choose between housing, food or medicine to keep you going, and that is the case for way to many

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Miss Pumpernickels' Farm Stand

In the late afternoon, I had to head west to pick up a cake, from a local home baker, who has a farm stand, two days a week. I had read about Miss Pumpernickel, a German baker on social media, who has a small farm, and makes a few items for resell, breads, cookies, fresh eggs, and other things to preorder the day before, and pickup after 5:00 pm. Very interesting, you pull up to her stand, find your order, drop your cash in the money mailbox and your on your way. The German, Marble Cake, one of my favorites was still warm in the pan, guess a small poison, check will have to happen, to make sure my Friday Ladies will enjoy it! Amy, always said “a poison check was required for any and all desserts you would be serving to others.” I wholeheartedly agree!

Miss Pumpernickel's German Marble Cake

 

Little Nicky's

Prosciutto Bread

In the same area is a small Italian, place, that has wonderful pizza, Italian, dishes, and oh my word, Italian desserts to make you drool. They are originally from New York City, and you have no doubt about it once you walk through their door. Fresh out of their well worn Cadillac, for about 5 years now, they have moved down, because their older folks needed warmer climates. So, they started a small place, and our making a go of it. The wife does the talking and ringing up, the husband is the cook, and pastry maker, believe me he knows what he is doing, they are handed down family recipes, and authentic. I had happened upon this small hole in the wall place, when I was heading home from Oak Ridge, back in February, got some meatballs, and pastries, all were delicious. I looked on their Facebook since I was going to be in the area, and saw they had a special Italian Easter Grain Pie, and fresh out if the oven Prosciutto Bread, so I ordered them up and had the fun of crossing Pellissippi Parkway at quitting for Oak Ridge, dangerous, believe you me, but ‘Jesus took the wheel’, and in we went to get our Italian delights. I had the chance to speak with the cook and baker, his wife had to step out, it was fun, but I discovered that he has a speech impediment, and why he prefers to stay in the kitchen. I am quite accustomed to that, and I know you just wait, and let them get their words out, I enjoyed his explanation on how to best serve the pie and the bread. So Friday ladies, one who is from New York City proper, will be thrilled to get a taste of two unusual Easter Desserts, one German, one Italian. "Bon appétit! I also prepared a bouquet to take to the cemetery tomorrow in honor of our parents Byron and Muriel Johnson, up on the ridge in Clinton, overlooking the Clinch river. A beautiful view no matter the season.

I took a few pictures to share. I appreciate those that some of  you read my writing. I have finally been able to let my fingers type, what my mind and heart was unable to say. “To rejuvenate your life, sometimes you need to take a step back and reflect. ” God Bless as we praise and begin anew during this Easter season. LSJL "I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live" (John 11:25-26)

Head Spa brings back memories of days gone by…

 

Our Aunt Melva, and her sister, our Mom Muriel were cosmetologist, My Aunt supported herself and her daughter by cutting and fixing women and men’s hair, beginning back in 1940’s. She was a woman who wore many hats, and managed to wear them all to the best of her ability They both went to beauty school in Knoxville and both obtained their cosmetology license, My aunt used hers, our mom, could have but did not, it was not her cup of tea, although she kept her license up to date all of her life. 

Aunt Melva Engle graduating from Knoxville Beauty School

Aunt Melva Engle Lane, Aunt Opal Engle Taylor,
Uncle Leffel Aubrey Engle, his wife Eucilla, and Muriel Engle Johnson

Alvin Lane... Melva Engle Lane

Our Aunt’s first beauty shop that she managed for Mr. Hoskins, was in the back of Hoskin’s Drug Store in Clinton, right behind the soda fountain. She provided hair services, while our mom, who lived with her, sat at the soda fountain, and enjoyed the rewards of being the sister of the beautician, and going to beauty school, while having milkshakes, soda pop, burgers and fries all homemade, and also where she met our dad Byron. Our Aunt Melva had the art of a good head wash down to a science, in later years we would drive up to Barboursville, Ky on a Sunday, her only day off, and go to her shop, Melva’s Beauty Box, and enjoy the pleasure of her head wash, cut and curl, it was amazing. I always had head tingles, and arm prickles when I was given the pleasure of being in her chair, she kept her shop until her late 70’s and had clients that would only allow ‘Melvy’ to do their hair, even after their passing. What a legacy. I have always compared her skills to all cosmetologists before and after.

In the last year Head Spa’s that originated in the Asian cultures have arrived onto our multi beauty enhancement Tennessee beauty scope and scene. My friends John and Kim Tran, who I have known for over 32 years, who have also increased their nail salon to include, lashes, waxing, facials and tans as well as The Head Spa. It is a scrub above Aunt Melva’s original, but so much more. Julie, a young woman, nail stylist originally from Viet Nam, makes you appreciate the art of relaxation, that offers up head tingles, arm prickles, and a refreshed scalp when your hour is completed in her small private room off the shop floor. I am a person that has a difficult time just letting go, giving up control, and giving in to relaxing. The last year and a half I have struggled to remain constant, I am broken in so many ways that even I can not describe how fractured I was and still am as I begin to heal. The one place I have been able to go, no questions asked, just open arms and open hearts, as I pour out in my silence, my tears, and my inability to just be who I am now as opposed to how I was before, The pieces that made me whole have gradually been falling away, leaving me very real... not unlike this quote from

 Margery Williams Bianco, The Velveteen Rabbit

“Real isn't how you are made,' said the Skin Horse. 'It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.'
'Does it hurt?' asked the Rabbit.
'Sometimes,' said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. 'When you are Real you don't mind being hurt.'
'Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,' he asked, 'or bit by bit?'
'It doesn't happen all at once,' said the Skin Horse. 'You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand.”

I have had to come to terms with people who do not understand. The reality of life is difficult, and many have chosen to walk away, it’s easier than having to get into the trenches of grief and become real.

“Friends disappear
or they are powerless.
This is what misfortune means
an acid test of friendship.
I wouldn't wish it on anyone.”
― Anne Carson, Grief Lessons