knoxcotn-digest Sunday, September 23 2001 Volume 01 : Number 194

 

 

 

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Date: Wed, 19 Sep 2001 21:10:26 -0400

From: RLB <rosieb@sprynet.com>

Subject: [KnoxCoTN] New website honoring Knoxville native

You are cordially invited to visit a new website honoring Knoxville

native, UT grad and two-time Tony Award winning actor John Cullum. His

new Broadway musical opens this week (9/20). You'll find information

about the new show, his many recordings, and prior shows at:

http://www.aboutjohncullum.com

Material is being added almost daily, and there's lots more to come, but

quite a bit is already up. I hope that those of you who know Mr. Cullum

will sign the guestbook and share your memories! Photo submissions to

the gallery will also be gratefully accepted. (Does anyone on this list

have the 1945-48 Knoxville High School yearbooks?) This site is being

built by several long-time fans in tribute to a talented performer, and

a heck of a nice guy. Enjoy!

Sincerely,

Rosanna Bencoach

Richmond VA

rosieb@sprynet.com

http://www.aboutjohncullum.com

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Date: Thu, 20 Sep 2001 09:34:00 -0400

From: "Billie R. McNamara" <knox@tngenweb.org>

Subject: [KnoxCoTN] Fwd: Genealogists Unite To Help (latest scam?)

This is the latest from those Family Discovery folks who charge a fee for

"lifetime access" to their site, which has never been more than a list of

links much like Cyndi's -- not to mention they undertook wholesale copying

of USGenWeb sites and loaded the content up on their server.

Caveat emptor.

 

>Date: Thu, 20 Sep 2001 7:2:5 -0700

>

>Dear Billie R. McNamara ,

>

>IN THIS ISSUE

>================================

>SECTION #1

>How to donate directly to the

>September 11th funds

>--------------------------------

>SECTION #2

>Genealogy Review

>25% of your Genealogy Membership Will

>Go Directly To The National

>Disaster Relief Fund of the

>American Red Cross Via manual Direct Donation

>================================

>

>Our Thoughts and Prayers are with each and

>everyone as a nation as we overcome this unbelievable tragedy.

>

>===========================================

>SECTION #1

>How To Donate Directly To The

>September 11th Fund

>===========================================

>As genealogists it is important that we pull together in a time of need.

>We

>are a growing community online and can use this fact to help others.

>

>We have put together a list of places that you can donate your time, money,

>or your blood to help the victims of the September 11th tragedy at

>

>Please mail your check to:

>

> United Way of New York City

> 2 Park Avenue

> New York, NY 10016

>-------------------------------------------------------

>American Red Cross

>Please Make Checks Payable To:

>

>American Red Cross Disaster Relief Fund

>P.O. Box 37243

>Washington, D.C. 20013

>----------------------------------------------

>All funds are Tax Deductable

>

>===========================================

>SECTION #2

>Special Direct Donation Through Your Membership

>===========================================

>

>Under further review your internet based genealogy commitee located at

>http://www.familydiscovery.com/redcross/ has also implemented a way to

>automatically donate money to the victims. They will donate 25% of each

>new membership directly to the National Disaster Relief Fund of the

>American

>Red Cross special Papal fund account.

>

>25% of your membership will be automatically deposited into a Red Cross

>special fund account. This same account has raised over 1.4 million dollars

>for this fund so

>far and is growing quickly. 100% of the proceeds in the special fund

>account will

>be donated directly to the Papal National Disaster Relief Fund of the

>American Red

>Cross..

>

>To learn more about Family Discovery memberships and how you can donate

>25% of your membership please go to:

>

>http://www.familydiscovery.com/redcross/

>

>==================================================================

>

>SUBSCRIPTION INFORMATION

>

>To unsubscribe please send an e-mail, with your first and last name and the

>e-mail address where you receive your subscription in the body and type

>UNSUBSCRIBE in the subject, to: subscribe@genealogyrelated.com

>

>You are subscribed as [First Name] at [Email Address].

>

>To tell a friend about GenTruth, please send an email to

>gentruth@genealogyrelated.com with the persons name and email address.

>They will receive a message from us letting them know that you think a

>subscription could help them with their research.

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Date: Sun, 23 Sep 2001 13:58:52 -0400

From: "Billie R. McNamara" <knox@tngenweb.org>

Subject: [KnoxCoTN] 23 Sep 2001 Sunday Afternoon Rocking

Sunday Afternoon Rocking

Full Circle (from the "Sunday Afternoon Rocking" series)

The little girl knew exactly where magic lay, in what word, and what

land. She might sit beside you and impishly challenge that you to guess

the world. "Hmmmm," might be the grownup musing, "Could it be Abracadabra?

Shazam? Perhaps Supercalifragilisticespialadocious?" Laughing, the child

would shake her head vigorously, and then giggle, telling you the magic

word and the land itself have one and the same name. "Oh I see," might

muse the adult, "Well then, could it be Oz? No? Then

Narnia? No? Disneyland????" And giggles wound ensue again; the child's

curls a tangle and her black eyes dancing, as she shook her head "no" once

more. For you were not even close.

The little girl knew exactly where magic lay, in what word, and what

land. She was so sure of its place and so sure of its nomage, that she

often wondered if it even existed when she was not there. It seemed far

too enchanted and wonderful to be an "every day place" and surely must

simply peek from the fog now and then to lend color to an otherwise quite

ordinary world.

She knew when she was there because the flat sandy land of her own world

suddenly turned to rolling hills shaded by hundreds of welcoming trees, and

the soil to something red and rich. She knew when she was there because

there was a different look, a different feel, a magic in the air. Nothing

was the same there, not the smells or the feels or the looks. Not that

anything was wrong with her own world, but here Everything was tinged with

magic. And that was odd, because none of the motifs of fairy tales

applied. Or did they? Oh, the child was quite sure they did. Enchantment

had simply rendered them a different form.

The castle sat far down a dusty road, so far that the road itself, twisting

and curling, the dust of it fairy dust, might serve as a moat, and the

dancing black-eyed Susans along that road as the knights that guarded

it. Of course the castle was enchanted, so it did not particularly look

like one of fairy tales. It was quite simple, a tiny white farmhouse

really, smoke curling from its chimney and guarded by its Keeper. Old Ring

rushed out, a blur of brown and white barking terror, until of course he

recognized who dared enter the kingdom, and the bark turned to

welcome. Fairy godmothers? Oh yes! Not just one, but four of them! And a

loving old Papa magician as well! The little girl knew exactly where magic

lay, in what word, and in what land.

When I was a girl, I knew a word for "magic". The word and the place were

the same. The place was magic because it was the cradle of all things

wonderful, all things comforting, all things imaginable that could make a

little girl feel loved and adored. The feel was wrapped up in so many

things; it was quite impossible to tell what exactly the magic about it

was. The smell of good things wafting from an iron stove? The aunts who

stopped their bustling to wrap the girl in great bear hugs? The twinkling

fireflies across the fields? The Pa who leaned across the oilcloth covered

great table, brown eyes twinkling, as he teased her? The sound of

whippoorwills and crickets? Or was it the final enveloping hug, when she

sank at the end of a day into a gentle warm feather bed? Impossible to

say. But the magic word and the magic place were one and the same. Tennessee.

When I was a girl, it was magic. And when I was a young woman, struggling

to make a home, struggling to carve a career, struggling to raise children,

it was magic then too. Now and then, stresses would pile up, deep and

thick, like the trees of a horrid troll's forest. And always one place

would come to mind that I could go back to, and come home again

refreshed. Tennessee. The word was magic for my own children too. I

would bundle them into a car, and we would traipse the long way. The

farmhouse was gone, and so was Pa. But the aunts were the same, and their

homes were the same. They would greet us with eyes dancing and laughter on

their lips, envelop us in great hugs, and for a space of time, we would

bask in their magic. I would get welcome relief and be urged to go explore

the old places with an uncle. My children would greet me at my return, the

telltale pink sticky around their lips telling me they had raided their

aunt's strawberries, the smiles on their faces telling me they knew the

same magic I knew.

I still go back, as I always will. But it is not the same, and the reasons

for going are different. My uncles are gone. We lost two of those loving

aunts last year. Two remain. I do not go these days to find the magic,

though I find it in the two that remain just the same. They are very old

now, ancient with years and experiences, but their eyes light up like I

remember. They are too frail to embrace me in great bear hugs anymore, and

I am careful when I hug them because they are so thin and fragile, but I

feel the magic in the soft embrace. They cannot fix the "great spreads"

they once did, and I bring them treats they do not often see in the nursing

home that cares for them. They cannot shop for themselves, and so I sit

beside them and make a list and bring back to them what they wish.

The last time I was there, the bright eyes of one of those aunts followed

me as I bustled about the room, folding and putting away fresh laundered

clothing, organizing drawers and closets. She twisted in her wheelchair,

and turned to my husband. "She is like Mama," she said, "She stays busy,

just like Mama." I heard what she said, and thought briefly of the

grandmother I never knew. I continued, watering a plant, straightening the

spread of a bed, adjusting curtains, and I heard the soft voice speak

again. "She even looks like Mama". And then I knew.

We have come full circle. When I was a child, they were my magic, my

comfort, my color in a very ordinary world. When I was a struggling young

adult, they were my magic, my relief from daily stress, my place to go home

to when life overwhelmed. Now they look forward to my visits as color in

an ordinary world, and would have me there every minute I can spare from my

world. Mama took care of them once, very long ago, and they are in need of

care again. And myself? It is my turn to repay what was given to me.

I was proud to hear that elderly aunt I love so, pronounce me, "like

Mama". For no one on earth could have loved her just the same, with the

same warmth and total giving as her Mama long ago. I could not possibly be

"Mama", but something about what I could give them reminded them of her.

Somehow I was returning the comfort given me for so many years. It felt

good to know it was so, it was possible, that I might make a bit of "magic"

for her as she had so often made for me. Full circle.

We all come full circle. And there comes a day to repay the debts incurred

for all of that which we have basked in and enjoyed the pleasures of,

whether it is to family or friends or a country. We take what is given,

and we enjoy it, and for a time we do not question the sacrifices that make

it so. And comes a day, we realize we must give back what has been

given. We come full circle. And I have come full circle. It is the way

of things, and it is a good thing.

Just a thought,

jan

Copyright ©2001janPhilpot

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Note: Afternoon Rocking messages are meant to be passed on, meant to be

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Thanks, jan)

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End of knoxcotn-digest V1 #194

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