Author: Deborah Hall

So, my grandson was riding with me in the car and asked me THAT question! Oh no. Not about ‘doing the nasty’ but this one:

”Mamaw…is your neighborhood a good one? Why are there so many sirens?”

So I answered him honestly in my best church lady voice, “Well hon, I live between a hospital and a fire house. So yes, we do have a lot of sirens.”

And as youth do….he added, “But what about those gunshots?”

Oh THAT question.

Well, I tried the politically correct, child psychologist answer: “Well, sweetie….some folks drive by to say ‘hi’. Others drive by and their anger gets triggered. And then, they make some bad choices. And their 2nd Amendment goes off because they have no regard for safety and someone gets hurt.”

Now, my Granny from the Ghetto, brain was tryna to say: “BRUH, these thugs up in here have IQ’s that sag as low as their pants and they be shootin’ the sh** outta each other and poppin gangstas in their cribs, cars, cappin the baby mama, the baby daddy, the baby back ribs, and outrunning the po’-lice and all the time sayin, “Wasn’t me.” And trust me when I say that narrative comes in all ethnicities. Thuglife ignorance does not discriminate. I prefer to say it is the language of SnapChat and the lousy ‘role’ models of TikTok’.

But my grandson didn’t need all that. So I explained to him that my neighborhood is safe. And when bad things happen, it is up to me to bring back the good. Which is what this blog is really about. Read on.

So, the Deb Hall was in my local Subway (Restaurant: this is Indiana and we don’t have subways) and was calling out the contents of my six inch, white bread, delicacy. I had paid and was filling my drink cups when a nice looking, fashionably dressed man entered. The couple behind me was about to order, when all of a sudden, she yelled: “HE JUST STOLE YOUR TIP JAR!”

Now, let me tell you something. I am no vigilante, I don’t carry, and I am 4 ft 10 inches tall and am a middle-aged teacher. (Okay. I hear that snicker about being middle-aged: well, if I live to be 140 years, I AM middle-aged). But you know….it made my blood boil that this thug was stealing tips from young folks with honest jobs to support their young lives.

So I went after him.

I opened the door of Subway, and yelled, “Hey! Hey YOU!” Now why he turned around to even acknowledge me is odd, unless I reminded him of HIS grandmother. Then, I went on to shout, “COME BACK HERE! YOU ARE A THIEF! Bring their money back!”

The Ghetto Granny was on a roll. Am I vicious or what?

I grabbed my Six Inch (as in sandwich not Six Shooter) and bolted out after him. A lady yelled from her car that he had been in ‘WingStop’ and commented that he was in there acting all sketchy. Okay, between you and me, that WingStop IS sketchy! She said he headed toward Hardees, so I did too.

I would love to tell you I caught him, beat him up with Gangsta Grandma moves, heroically whisked the Tip Jar from his and returned it to Subway. But, I never found him. He is one lucky thievin’ thug.

Today, I made peace with the whole incident. I took the Subway employees a new tip jar. With good tips. And lined with construction paper to hide the loot and a mouth on the jar that an adult hand cannot fit into. I took a cable ties and a strong cord so they could attach it to their register and such to eliminate the ‘snatchin’. And in our conversation, the Indian store owner smiled and smiled and told me that they caught him on camera. OH CAMERAS! I never thought of that. Then he said, “You too.” Huh? He smiled and said, “You go after him. We see on camera.” What??? My own Insta-Gram-Ma. The employees thanked me again for my kindness.

Now…before you think that this is a theme about “Look at what I did” let’s look again. If I had not done a good deed after the bad one, I would never be able to look my grandson in the eye and say, “Yes I live in a good neighborhood” unless I am the one to bring good to it.

Every city has their thieves. Crime is a menace and commentary on our culture. But, I would like to believe those folks at the Subway will remember a little old lady brought back their tips. You know…good over evil.

But if I ever see that guy again, I am going to make him pay.

Please don’t tip him off. This bad G-Ma is gonna whup him good.

Sometimes this keyboard is not my friend. Not because I create some technological anomaly, which I do from time to time, but because I sit here and realize that I owe you all a story. Why? Because you are spending your precious minutes ”looking over my shoulder while I ponder life.” It is such an honor to read your comments, page views, and to see you repost my musings on your social media. In a writer’s world, this is huge!

My purpose in this blog is to live life and record the journey. Sometimes I do so through the perspective of a mother, grandmother, teacher, citizen, pet owner, church lady, and on and on it goes. You know how many hats you wear in a day: I try to unravel the moments under these hats in words to make you smile, weep, wonder, or escape.

Often times, I feel like my life’s microscope is all steamed up and fuzzy. But you bear with me and I face the keyboard with your encouragement. I jump on each letter until some kind of drivel arrives on the screen. I have to admit….some days it is hard. Not because my life is so complicated and dark, but the balance between being entertaining and authentic is kind of like driving on the shoulder of the highway. You know it is not a real lane, but getting from point A to point B is just too hard in the fast lane. There are days I want to park the car and start walking in any direction the feet can take me and leave all of the responsibilities behind. Sounds exotic, rebellious, freeing. And then you see it: ROADKILL. That lil ole’ possum who tired to waddle across the road one too many times. BAM! Now it is lunch for the crows. Isn’t that imagery just lovely? Well….it is if you are a crow.

My point is this: I live and tell about it. You read my interpretation and then we connect. Perhaps you laugh, sigh, or grimace at the string of sentences I throw down here. But you affirm that somehow logging on to this tattle-tale blog is worth of your precious minutes. What an honor.

Thank you for reading, ‘The Ongoing Stories of My Soul’. Without you, there would no reason to ever sit in front of this tablet and stack my words. My students often ask me how I get the ideas to write my stories. Well, the stories find ME like a door that opens and closes. But the door in itself is not the story. It is when anger slams the door and emotions must be translated. Or when the finger gets smashed in the door and pain is offloaded in a disturbing narrative. Or, the door magically opens and opportunity and adventure abound. And yes, sometimes the door must be locked and never opened again, if the soul is to survive that story.

But a story has a soul. And a soul has a story; where one leaves off and the other begins is unknown. But suffice it to say, that your meeting me here at this blog gladdens this heart in ways you will never know. My niece gave me a silver box with a quote from Ernest Hemingway which says:

“The writer must write what he has to say. Not speak it.”

Which means nothing until you, the reader, comes along and breathes life into it. My, what a gift! This writer is honored. Thank you.

Today, I venture from Blogger to Word Press. I have gone from leasing a place to publish my opinions and observations to owning it. And hopefully, you will join me here as I press on to ponder the world —with you looking over my shoulder. Are you strapped in ready to launch? Meaning…have you kicked off your shoes, put up your feet, and are ready to entertain some new ideas and some old gossip? Because, that is truly the fare for this curbside diner. Yep. We won’t delve too deeply or think too hard—we will leave that to the scholars. But we will walk down the alleys and cross streets to examine and ponder humanity, and chat along the way. And we may giggle, criticize, and fumble with notions that befuddle folks. And sometimes, we will just smile and enjoy one another’s company. Glad you are here.

I know that Mother’s Day is past, but I feel the need to reflect on mine. This Mother’s Day, 2018, was very kinky. Yes, I do realize that my children, perhaps grandchildren, may read this, but I do believe that I am a person of many experiences and am known to be authentic in living them all. So, it is only fitting that I come forth and reveal the secret side of my life–on this, the most auspicious holidays that women have to call their own.

Now, I will tell you right now that I know all about ‘Fifty Shades of Gray’. I am living it. I pay good money every six weeks for the gray to be transformed to a brown, shade that—let’s call him, ‘Joe’–fulfills at my request. See? I know all about that book. I saw it on my daughter’s kitchen counter some years back. I picked it up out of curiosity, and she snapped it away and said, “Oh….you won’t like that book…” and slid it over under the bills and the grandsons’ school papers. Of course I HAD to read it ! But…. I never got to it. Earning my shades of gray kept me too busy to indulge in some erotic reading. (Well now, I did read the reviews….)

But I digress. You are all hanging on to see what Deb Hall is going to divulge about her kinky holiday. Well,  it started at the Home Depot. I mean, if you are single and want to meet guys, the hardware is the second place after a bar, I guess. I don’t drink, but I do water my grass. And I really didn’t go there to meet a guy. I’ve had guys. There are nice decorations, but dusting them off gets a bit monotonous. I prefer rosebushes, you know, thorny over horny. Just sayin….

So…I saunter in with my ad and purchase a new garden hose. Now….don’t go all Kinsey Sex Institute on me and read some Freudian thing into that purchase. It didn’t need batteries or anything: I just needed a hose that did NOT kink up. If you don’t know what I mean-stop reading. I needed a great hose that laid flat and did not get all knotted up every ten inches. Or six. Anyway…this hose was deemed, “Industrial. Kink-free.” Wow. They had me at “Hello….I’m Kink-free and on sale.”

Took this baby home and got to work. Screwed it in and  turned the spigot on. That baby bulged and came to life! I was in ecstasy. Until I got that hose into the most perfect position– and then it happened: KINK. And another. And yet, another!!!! This new industrial, kink-free piece of crap was worse than the cheap one I picked up at the Dollar General last fall.

See what I mean? A kinky Mother’s Day. I had bought the mother of all worthless hoses, proving that this was not my day.

I got my revenge and bought a steel, slithery, hose that was shown on TV. Wouldn’t know. Don’t have a T.V. But I DO have a rugged, muscular, sturdy, and undeniably kink-free, man-o-war, garden hose.

Yep.

This is one mama who is all shades of happy…..gray and otherwise.

Mr. Trump,

     I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge your endeavors to make America great again. In your short tenure as POTUS, I must commend you on how ‘great’ our country has become. While I did not vote for you, I am beginning to question my election shortcomings. But enough about me; as we all know, it is always about you. Let me continue my thoughts on greatness, authored by no one other than yourself.

GREAT KIDS
I think it is great to have children in the White House. The Bush and Obama administration proved that. Really… how cute to watch Barron play with his baby cousin while you were signing your first documents. Children are our future and seeing Ivanka’s little son crawl in the White House and thrill his mother was heartwarming. It took us all back to the Kennedy years with John-John peeking around the Presidential desk and Caroline dancing for her daddy. Truly. It is a bit worrisome when the Commander in Chief demonstrates behavior attributed to a toddler, but I am sure maturity is forthcoming. Ummm…are my tax dollars paying for nannies? Just wondering.

GREAT LAUGHTER
Laughter is so welcomed in the stress-laden days which we find ourselves. I know of no other commodity that the American spirit craves more than hilarity. And thanks to you and your peeps, we are really laughing. Grizzly bears in schools. Imaginary massacres in Bowling Green. Alternate facts, fake news, and endless rants on Twitter. Banning folks who have more rights to be in this country than you have to live on Pennsylvania Avenue. Selecting an individual to head up education when she appears to be a DeVos, DeVoid of any kind of wisdom. But no worries; if things calm down and the laughter dies, there is always SNL. Oh, and your hair. That makes us laugh. And your orange marmalade skin tone. I don’t know how you do it: pathetic and inept has somehow become entertaining. Kind of like an odd comedian: we wake up and wonder what laughable blunder you have done now. Hmmm….bet the CIA and FBI aren’t laughing.  But what do I know? I still laugh at my students’ knock knock jokes.

GREAT SPOUSE (SORTA)
I alluded to children in the White House, well this shout out goes to Melania. Man, she looked amazing in that powder blue suit at the inauguration. Yes, we have had several first ladies who rocked the fashion scene, but she truly outshines you. I mean, did you even have clothes on at the swearing-in? Kinda like the ‘Emperor’s New Clothes,’ if you were told you looked stellar by the right ‘yes’ men, you would have stepped out in nothing and attributed it to the finest designer. Melania kind of ‘married up’ with you. I mean, she speaks four languages fluently, and you have yet to master English. I will tell you this; if my middle school students wrote the way you talk, they would be attending summer school, tutorial sessions, and retention in the same grade. But you know, talking in circles is probably a good strategy for you. May I suggest you take a lesson from your better half? She says little and carries herself with great aplomb, and if she ‘borrows a speech’ at least she used one of the best. OH–and she’s an immigrant! One of those!  Had you been my spouse and spewed out that ban on immigrants, I would have been chasing you around the East Room with a rolling pin. Hitter meets Twitter. This begs the question: if you treat absolute strangers/women/diplomats with such a mean reception, how do you treat your wife in private? We’ve gotten a peek at how you ignore her in public. I guess we can ascertain that two separate addresses is how some folks stay married.

GREAT NEWS ABOUT OUR CONSTITUTION
Thank you for turning us into students of the Constitution. While most of us didn’t know much past the Preamble or Second Amendment, we are now hearing ourselves say, “Can he do that??” Umm…you really can’t. We are actually reading the Constitution (or watching Hamilton) to check out facts. Better than Snopes, really. But don’t lose heart, Mr. Trump. There are quickie lessons you can obtain from Amazon that can teach you history in short bursts. Kind of like ‘School House Rock’ but not as cool. Yet, it will give you a basis on which to lead the greatest (see what I did there??) country in the world. Oh…and I now know that there is indeed REAL news and FAKE news. I mean, I always thought that the National Enquirer and the Star magazine were fake publications, but now I know that Fox News and CNN are fake newscasts. I am so glad that I can now read the National Enquirer without shame. Your personal disdain for the media is well, entertaining. Probably the worst strategy ever for someone front and center of the evening newscast, but hey….your Twitter account is as damaging as the White House Press Corps. Now…back to that policy and parchment of our forefathers.

GREAT WALL
The wall idea is wonderful. Now, building it to divide nations is pretty idiotic, but the concept of walls does excite me. I mean, how about a wall built around folks who have 49 items and are in the ‘Fifteen or Less Items’ in the grocery store. Yep. They deserve a wall. Same thing for folks who never use their turn signals. Yeah–hire Blinker Patrols to chase those folks out of the fast lane. And you know what? I think a wall is in order for people who cut lines. Gather those sneaky devils up and put them behind the wall of shame. Especially for folks who cut the lines at Disney and other amusement parks and pretend they did not know. Same thing for those careless drivers that take up three parking places: wall them in and they will learn. I really don’t think the wall between Mexico and the U.S. is good idea. If you listen to a recent podcast involving the Border Patrol they will tell you that there is an 18 foot wall now, and folks wanting to come to our country bring 19 foot ladders. The one border patrol officer said they have more 19 foot ladders than they know what to do with. My ideas about walls are more advisable….just sayin’.

GREAT UNIFICATION
Well, you have done an admirable job of uniting many people, especially women. Truly! Successful protests on issues that have been bothering us girls has really made some people think. Had I not had a recent foot surgery I would have joined in. Now…between you and me, Mr. Trump, I would not have worn a pink hat designed like my ‘hoo-ha’. But that’s just me. Some men grab anything, but then you know that. Another area that garnered Americans to line up and be heard was with the recent ban on immigrants. I cannot remember when I have been so proud to be an American, as I was watching people at airports cheering on those folks from other countries. And if that was not enough, we had attorneys offering their services, ‘pro bono’, to help scared and desperate families maneuver through the hot mess you created. Now that was a stroke of genius on your part: target immigrants and watch how quickly we recite the words from the base of the Statue of Liberty: “Bring me your tired, your poor; your huddled masses yearning to breathe free” and rush out to let them know that a welcoming spirit defines who we are. If you continue the trends that you have set forth these first days of your reign, dictatorship,  we will come together with one common cause: impeachment on the grounds of treason. Thank you for not spending a lot of tax dollars on redecorating the White House; those moving vans may arrive sooner than you think. Hey… you might check to see if Nordstrom’s is hiring.

Well, Mr. Trump, it has been nice talking with you and I surely hope that this little summary has lifted your spirits. I mean, if you have been ‘Down in the Dumps, Trump’ maybe you will see all the good you are doing to make America Great Again. You are the President now, and we all must accept that. It is kind of like that annoying and unforgiving toothache that occurs on the weekend. Sometimes you just have to suffer through it. Then, the office opens, the extraction occurs, and healing is restored. Is the pain forgotten? Well, once that pain occurs it will not soon be repeated.

We can only hope that this process works for America. Greatness? Oh, it is coming and it will be at the hands of “We the people” not “I, the Donald.”

Greatness. We will show you what it looks like.

  As I was being held hostage in the dentist’s chair, I picked up a magazine to read. There was only one that I could reach, being that I was tethered by that chain/clip/napkin thing. Who ever got a patent for that invention was one sorry soul.  But I digress. Guess which periodical was in my grasp? The one entitled, ‘InShape’  which is one thing that I am not. Sweet. A root canal and dieting suggestions all in one afternoon.

     I turned to the first article which involved the reader doing a pencil test. This was simple: put a pencil under one’s breast and if it stays put, then breasts are perky. Really? I am sixty-one years old. I could put a pencil, stapler, 3-ring hole punch and a tape dispenser under these babies and they would stay put. Sagging bosoms do that, you know. Lost desk articles does not equate with perky. It gets better. Or worse.

     One motivating article was called, “Shape Up or Ship Out” and I knew that I would be leaving the dock. I like shapes: round, oval, triangle, but the shapes they were suggesting require work. Now…mention ‘take-out’ and I am on board; ‘work-out’, umm not so much. But this writer was dropping words like ‘six-packs’ and while I dreamed of root beer, she went on to discuss ‘ab-controllers’. Hey, my mom used those: she called them girdles. I think they now call them ‘Spanx’ but wrapping oneself in latex is not going to hide one bitter fact: some of us are no longer skinny. You can stuff all of our flab in rubbery, sheath-like garments but that cellulite will break free when you least expect it.  Or worse: the fat will come slithering out of the openings. Stick with sweats (the ones you wear). Now…I will share that I used to go to the gym. But that was when I was in middle school and was assigned to P.E., third period. I’ve done my time. And even have ‘gym suits’ night terrors. Oh come on…you looked as bad in them as I did.

     I truly feel that fitness should be everyone’s goal. I mean, if you try it on and it doesn’t fit, buy a larger size. That is fitness to me. Ladies, we have to own the fact that we are all not built like Jennifer Anniston. And if we are breathing, circulating blood, and have a pulse we are in some kinda shape.

      As I skimmed thorough the article like milk (see what I did there? Skimmed milk…I am already thinking healthy foods) and saw the word ‘Pil-o-Eats’ I was thrilled! Reading about a ‘pile of eats’ was my kind of literature. Imagine my surprise when I reread that title to be: ‘Pilates’. The writer expected me to bend and stretch and hold–like I was elastic or something. I could only think of these possible outcomes: tendonitis, bursitis, arthritis, and other itis’s I have not yet encountered. See what I mean? Exercising is not medically safe.

     Well, the dentist sauntered in and saved me from the rest of the magazine. I am sure the other patients thought I had gone mad when the hygienist commented, “Hey have you lost some weight?” and I danced around giving her a hug and a high five. That magazine had worked! It was a miracle! I was shaping up just by reading about it!

      Maybe next time I will read Forbes and become a millionaire….just like the guy who invented the napkin/clip/chain thing. He must have known it was the shape of things to come….and I am not kidding.