The Beat Goes On
Sonny and Cher performed this hit back in the 1960s. As they were on the rise to stardom they had some roadblocks. Separation, divorce, going their separate ways to become successes in different fields. Yes, as their song says, the beat went on for them and they survived.
I thought of them recently. Since I completed a four year major project in October as a new “retiree†life has had lots new experiences. Some good. Some bad. Some that caused me to make choices of using my time other than writing my usual short reflections I love to pen.  Â
Life happens and it sure has been doing that in my neck of the woods.Â
An ailing mother who died two weeks ago, a brother with a brain aneurism in a coma, adjustments to being fully retired, and my son turning 25 and leaving for NYC the day before that momentous birthday to follow his dreams all added to the experience.Â
We have been going through Mom’s things this past week and moving them out of her vacant apartment to their new homes. There were things we fondly remember. There were things we had never seen. There are pictures of people we don’t know. Â
There are things that make us reflect. Â
We found our mother’s silver serving spoon she brought with her from Wales after WWII to start a new life with my father, RC. It was tarnished. I polished it up and it looks like new, just like the German Swastika belt buckle my father brought back from his years as a soldier. Â
Then there were the thermometers in a penlike case of my country doctor grandfather. He died before the war while my father was in college. They came with a note from a cousin to my mother years later that she was returning them to the rightful family members. Â
Nearby was a bill he had handwritten to someone he treated. He wrote a dollar amount on that bill, but further down it said any item/items or goods would be accepted as payment. I remember my grandmother saying they got lots of poultry, farm goods and tobacco as payment back then. Â
Included in the treasures we found were three of my father’s old pipes and one of the sweater vests Mom made for him that he loved to wear. I still remember him sitting on the porch with that sweater vest on and smoking his pipe.Â
There was a birthstone mother’s ring we kids had given to her one Mother’s Day. It had not been worn recently because her fingers were riddled with arthritis but she loved it dearly.Â
We smiled as we uncovered several brass love spoons from her homeland. Her apartment was adorned with many of them. These were some she was likely saving to give away one day to someone special. Â
There were many finished afghans, needlepoint items and dish clothes she made when she was feeling better. These were the few she had not given to others in kind gestures of friendship or love. Â
There were many other items we cherish. One final treasure I will mention here. Â
Most of you know I wrote a book called Sardines, Cheese and Soda Crackers that includes 63 true short stories about growing up in South Carolina. The title of the book is actually one of the stories. It tells about favorite times with my father in which we had Mom’s packed lunch that consisted of sardines, cheese and crackers. I mention in that story of cutting the block of cheese with my father’s pocketknife. Â
Yes, I found the knife. Â
Not sure why my mother kept it all these years. He’s been dead since 1988. It shows the wear of salt water on the blades and part of the wooden handle has worn off. Â
She was a big part of my life when I was writing these stories. She never mentioned she had that knife even when I chose that story as the title of the book. I’m not sure she ever remembered keeping it.
I have the knife sitting by my computer now. Let’s just say that it inspires me to begin writing again. There are still many stories to tell. Â
Yes, the beat goes on. Â
~ Joellen