We get emails, lots and lots of emails.....

Bits and Pieces
Written by Betty Smith

I came home from work Monday night and logged on to email--can't live without emails, you know! The one that caught my attention immediately was titled "Hey Granny"-I smiled as I saw the subject because it meant one of my grandchildren had written me! What joy filled my heart! Usually, they're much too busy to email dear ole Granny because they can text me initials and half words that I have to have an interpreter explain to me because it's so much faster.

I'm going to share this one with you because it brought a tear to my eye.
Read it. You'll see why...

Hey Granny! How are ya? Havent talked to ya in a while.

I kinda sorta have a random question for you. There is a rodeo school called Sankey Rodeo School and they teach saddle bronc riding, which is something I wanna do. But its on a weekend in April and i definitely dont have the money for it. So im tryin to see if i can talk everyone in the family into gittin together on it as one big birthday present. And i was wondering if you could please help me out. This is something i have been wanting to do since last year, but i didn't have the money last year either. And incase you are wondering, its 400 dollars, but i can talk the family into splitting the cost, it wont be too bad. Please help me out.

Talk to ya latter Granny! Love ya and miss ya!

Not wanting to embarrass him, I won't tell you his name, but it's from my 18 year old grandson, who is currently attending college in Laramie, WY! God help us!

Obviously, I understand where the Bonc idea comes from-he's going to school with a bunch of cowboys and wants to be accepted..noproblem with that.

This is the child who would routinely build a ramp on the driveway and ride his bicycle off it at break neck speed, then wonder why he was a massive bump and bruise from head to toe all the time! So, yeah, I get that he's not afraid to fall off something-but a BRONC?!

You gotta be kiddin' me!

This was my reply:

Dear Lifted,

I don't know who you are, but obviously you've stolen my grandson's laptop and are using his address book to prey on his poor unsuspecting grandmother! How dare you?!? Give that boy back his computer right this minute! He would never ever suggest that his dear ole hard working Granny contribute to something so outrageous. If you're holding him hostage, you might as well let him go now because it's not going to do you a bit of good to ask for money for a bronc riding
school! And for goodness sakes, if you'r on drugs, honey, please get help! You really need it if you're going to continue sending ransom notes because you can spell worth sh**!

Think that about covered the subject??


Posted by Nicki Wilcoxson for Betty Merritt

Meeting "Marvelous Martha"

Bits and Pieces

by Betty Smith Merritt

One of the most important events in my life happened at an early age.

Martha Fordyce was a retired school teacher in Ardmore, OK, who had devoted her life to teaching and was particularly interested in helping young ladies acquire social skills. When I was 13, my mother enrolled me in an etiquette class at the local YWCA. And that's where I met "Marvelous Martha".

As I've said before, I was extremely shy (no one seems to believe that now), but it was very true. In fact, looking back at myself today, as I was then, I'd change that description to "painfully" shy. I blushed fiercely (and still do occasionally) and stammered a lot if a boy, who wasn't one of my brothers, so much as looked at me. I was tall for my age, and skinny to the point of having no figure at all.

My loving brothers called me "Stick" and not because of my love for hockey! My much adored grandfather called me "Olive Oil" - does that give you a clue??

Anyway, off to "deportment" classes I went each Wednesday after school. For an hour each week, we'd hear all the ways young ladies "deported" themselves. It was an 8 week class and bless her heart, Marvelous Martha certainly had her work cut out for her.

She had been blessed with a class of 10 girls between the ages of 12 and 15 who had grown up in rural Oklahoma. Girls who thought nothing about climbing a tree in a dress, could scoot under a barbed wire fence with nary a scratch and excelled at running faster than the bull in the pasture!

The first week, we learned how to sit like ladies. Not plop down in a chair, mind you - SIT! It took me about a dozen tries before I finally managed to get my rear in the chair to Marvelous Martha's satisfaction. And then came the rest...I didn't know it was considered "improper" to sit with your legs sprawled out in front of you or cross your legs at the knees! The muscles in my legs ached the first week from sitting in a chair with my knees together and ankles primly crossed! I begged my mother to let me quit - it was just too hard for me! She said no.

The second week, we learned to walk properly - have you ever tried to walk across a room with a Webster's Dictionary balanced precariously on your head, head held high, eyes in front of you, without tripping over your own feet while everyone in the class stared at you intently and mentally willed the stupid book to fall on your feet?? I still carry the emotional scars!! The only dictionary I have in my home today is the one inside my computer!! And if that wasn't bad enough, I inadvertently caused the class to get another lesson...no walking while chewing gum...in fact, no chewing gum at all! Because it is "particularly unladylike" to blow bubbles and pop them! Again, I begged my mother to let me quit. She said no.


The third week when we arrived for class, there was a beautifully set table in front of the room..linen draped, with gleaming crystal, silverware you could see your reflection in, white china with little pink roses on it, with flowers and candles for a centerpiece. That was my first tea party, and the day I fell in love with Marvelous Martha! I'd quit complaining about sitting and walking if I could just learn how to make a table look that beautiful! Now, mind you, my mother didn't own linen tablecloths, crystal, china or silver, and the only candles I knew of at home were the ones we had in the cellar in case of tornadoes, but we did often bring her flowers out of the field, so I thought I at least had a chance to succeed! I soaked up that lesson like a sponge! I was the first (and only) one who volunteered to set the table for "dinner" every night afterwards. I also shared my knowledge with the family and explained the difference between supper and dinner. My mother grimaced. I think she was beginning to realize she might have created a monster.

The fourth week, there was another table in front of the classroom - this time, it was covered with makeup, mirrors, hats, gloves, scarves of all colors, shapes and sizes and purses! Lordie, Lordie, they were pretty! I'd never seen so many beautiful things in one place at one time in my entire life...needless to say, there were no shopping malls in Ardmore, OK in 1957! But even if there had been, I wouldn't have known about them because the feed store was the only place we ever went when we came to "town". Marvelous Martha had my complete attention that day as she demonstrated the art of discreetly applying makeup, choosing hats that fit your face, 99 ways to fold and wear scarves and how to chose the purse that fits your needs. When I got home with my discreetly made up face, wearing a perfectly tied scarf around my neck and opened my donated purse to reveal brand new white gloves (still in the plastic bag) and powder compact (with a mirror!), my mother sighed and said I might have to miss class the next week because she needed me to help her at home. I begged her to let me go. She finally said yes.

The fifth week was all about hygiene. That was the week I came home and announced that in the future, I'd take my bath first because the water would be dirty after the boys got in it! My brothers had a fit because I told them that from then on, I would be putting bubble bath in the water so I'd smell good. Daddy said the boys would have to take turns being second so they'd all have a turn at smelling sissified. My mother cringed and said she really needed me to skip the next class because she needed help canning the vegetables out of the garden and they couldn't wait. I begged and pleaded, and promised her the next three Saturdays of my life to help her with the canning if she'd only let me go to the next class. She gave up and said yes.

The sixth week was about choosing clothes that fit your body type. I didn't know I had a body type, so when Marvelous Martha classified me as "tall and slender", I loved her just a little bit more! That sounded so much nicer than "skinny as a stick"!! That was the class where we learned to "accentuate the positive and eliminate the negative" so to speak. JC Penny's had donated a dress to each of us, so we took a field trip to the store two blocks away and got to select the dress of our dreams...as long as it cost no more than $5.99! Since all of my clothes to date had either been hand-me-downs or homemade, I felt like a queen in my new store bought dress. The only bad part was we weren't allowed to wear them home, or at all, until our "graduation" two weeks away. I proudly carried the dress home in it's purple JC Penny's bag, held high, like a banner going before a victorious army! I couldn't wait to show my mother the pale pink dress with a full skirt, belted waist and Peter Pan collar I'd selected! My mother cried, so I cried because she cried, and I told her I wouldn't go to the class anymore if it upset her. She said, no, she was just being silly, and I should go to class.

The seventh week was a recap of all the things we had learned and practice for the graduation exercise. We wrote invitations to mail to our loved ones we wanted to attend and learned the meaning of RSVP! Wow! It was thrilling to know I'd mastered French! I found so many occasions to say something in French (as if I knew!) the next week, she pushed me out the door the following Wednesday saying "Learn something in English this time, OK?"

Graduation day finally arrived, and I, dressed in my new JC Penny's frock, wearing donated gloves, carrying a second hand purse, proudly walked across the room to receive my diploma as my mother and grandmother, seated across the room, smiled at me.

The lessons I learned from Marvelous Martha have served me well, but life has given me a slightly different perspective.

As I see it:

By the time you've walked a mile in someone else's shoes, either your feet hurt really bad or you're comfortable enough in them to call them your own.

A little bit of paint helps any ole barn.

Hearts and fine china can be broken with careless handling.

The truly poor people are those who allow hope to wither and die on the vine.

You may not have the best of anything, but soap and water are cheap and plentiful, so be sure to use them often on everything.

Neglected people, like pieces of silver, will eventually grow dull and tarnished but a little bit of attention makes them sparkle and shine like new.

It's true, a Zebra can't change it's stripes, so thank God we're all human and quite capable of changing.

If you're a mother hen, it's okay to cry when you realize your chickadee is growing up.