Harvesting Memories.

So, how does your garden grow? …or do you even have one? If you do, you will appreciate this post. If you don’t, then I must encourage you to start a garden. …floral or vegetable, doesn't matter.  They are both so rewarding.   Digging in the dirt is the most spiritually satisfying activity I've found that I can do on my own time and in my own way.

My dad had a garden when we were growing up. I remember very vividly sitting out under one of the big oaks in our back yard and having to shell purple hull peas.  My fingers were purple all summer long.  I couldn’t seem to get that purple stain off of my fingers.  It wasn’t anything that I loved doing but it was one of those chores that my Mom had us do if we wanted to go fishing or swimming.  She was always good about canning all the veggies my dad could produce in his garden.  We had canned tomatoes in the winter for our soups and she would make the best creamed corn. 

The best part of summer when I was growing up was the fresh meals that came out of the garden.  I can remember watching the tomatoes ripen on the vine and when they started to turn, I would watch for the special one and when it looked like it was ready to pick, I would take the salt shaker out to the garden and sit down between the rows and eat it right off the vine. It was soooooo good! I can almost taste it now.  Kids these days have no idea what a real tomato tastes like. 

Today I went to the opening of the Farmers Market at the Farm. It was kind of early for any veggies but they managed to get hooked up with some area growers who are serious about growing for the public…thank goodness.  Bob Evans of Cotton Valley is one of our growers and he managed to have the biggest and prettiest heads of cabbage today.  Freshly dug red potatoes and freshly picked broccoli were for sale today at the market and I was so proud to get there early enough to get some. I got home with my bounty, put on some music, turned our old oscillating fan on and began to dance while cleaning my veggies. It brought back such great memories.

I also brought home some new plants that I bought from Molly. She’s a local horticulturalist who has managed to get her children excited about the earth and gardening and their family was out at the market selling plants, eggs and handmade flowers out of recycled tin cans.  I had to buy one of almost everything, of course.

So, today was a great day and I can’t wait to plant my new plants, eat my new potatoes while patiently waiting for the tomatoes to start making.  Fresh vegetables are a rare treat these days especially those that are grown by the hands of backyard gardeners who learned the art of gardening from their parents and grandparents.   We need more gardeners and more farmers.   Consider being one or at least supporting the ones that live in your community.  Go gardening! Go green! …or Go buy!

The Perfect Day!

It was the laughter that caught my attention.  While working in the "Painting for a Cause" tent, I could see the colorful quilts blowing in the breeze by the side of Zenobia’s old home place.  And on the front lawn, Janell and members of the Pleasant Valley Church were frying chicken for festival goers.  And on the front porch, a couple of teachers from Bossier were enjoying their chicken while watching the traffic go by.  It was the smell of fried chicken, the sound of the laughter and the buzzing of the cooks that made my heart swell and I could feel the grin on my face take over.

It was our 18^th arts festival and the 12^th one to be held on our four acre Farm.  The crowd size was perfect. …any more and the experience would have been different for everyone.  People were busy painting on the outdoor mural, kids were under the tents making faces out of clay and the music coming from the big talent tent reminded you that it was all about the kids.  

Having chaired the festival every year since its inception, there was something different about this year.  Every little detail had been addressed. From the thoughtful placement of the colorful quilts to the whimsical tin flowers scattered around the yard…the entire place was a piece of art.  It was my dream festival.  Everything that had played out in my head was played out in real life…for the first time.  There were no regrets, no complaints, no last minute worries, no forgotten tasks.  The board members and the volunteers who had dedicated their time and talent were now seeing the fruits of their labor, too.  My only hope was that they were experiencing what I was experiencing….pure satisfaction. Pure joy.  The perfect day! 

We created a beautiful scene with real elements and real people on April 28^th and it was truly a masterpiece!

Color in my World

I love diversity and I love experiencing the culture of other groups and other communities. I guess that's why I spent nearly two decades trying to bring those experiences to children each spring during our Spring Arts Festival. As an Army brat, perhaps it was my early exposure to diversity that led me to want to try to expose my own child and my own community to this beautiful world of color.

Looking back on it, I am still astonished at the resistence our festival committee experienced when trying to bring people from other cultures and traditions to Minden.  I remember the year we brought the Houma Nation  to Minden to celebrate Native Americans.  We had gotten word that one of the churches in town was planning to boycott the festival. We were going to honor the tribe's arrival with a community totem pole with colorful blocks created by area school children that included special messages. We took the news in stride and decided that we would make this a teachable moment not only for the children but for adults as well.  I guess it worked. There was no boycott after all.

And I remember the year that we decided to celebrate China. With the olympics to be held that same year, we thought it would be a great idea to honor their country.  We invited the Shreveport Chinese Society to share their art and culture with us.  They brought beautiful pieces of original Chinese art to the Farm for all to enjoy.  I think the most impressive event was when one of our Chinese guests created special calligraphy hangings for festival goers.  It was one of the brightest and most colorful festivals we had ever had.  We ordered original Chinese costumes from China for many of the children to wear for our mini parade.  We had created painted banners bearing special words in Chinese for the children to carry during the parade. We had a young Chinese exchange student sing a Chinese song on stage that brought the crowd to tears.  It was a moment when you didn't have to know what the words were to understand the significance and the meaning.

The controversy this time didn't come from our community. It came from the Chinese Society.  We shared with them the many photographs we had taken of their visit in Minden. And among the photos was one of a young girl holding one of the banners that read  "Liberty" in Chinese. We had taken the suggestion of these painted banners from a page out of a boy scout manual. Unfortunately, our guests thought that we were involved in a conspiracy to disgrace them in their homeland.  We did manage to meet with them and reassure them that everything we did was honorable and certainly not meant to harm them in any way. We were very apologetic. We did manage to smooth things over with them, thank goodness.

We have in our backyard another culture that deserves our respect and attention. And that is of our African American neighbors. My own life experiences have colored my world with such wonderful memories. From Arley James to Mr. Moore to the Thornton sisters, their friendships have given me such joy.  And during this Black History Month celebration I honor their memories and their friendships. And I hope that we can continue to keep our minds and hearts open to experiencing and understanding the cultures and traditions of others even our own.

With all the turmoil and unrest on our planet today, I think its going to take more sensitivity, respect and understanding to get us through these tough times. Our cultures and traditions may be different. Our skin may be different. Our religions and politics may be different.  But we are all still part of the same race....the human race!

There is color in my world, I hope there is color in yours!

Leading by Example

Over a decade ago I noticed a significant rise in violence among the boys at The Children’s Center.  There was more name calling and their aggressive actions were affecting the harmony we had all come to enjoy at The Children’s Center.  Without knowing the direct cause, I attempted to examine what social issues we might have been experiencing that were different than any other time in my fifteen years of care giving.

I sought the advice of professional counselors to see if they too had experienced the same thing. I examined every aspect of the Center from our policies to our supervision.  I was very careful in those days to monitor their Nintendo games and anything they watched on television.  We forbid anything that was violent down to the smallest details including not allowing toy guns at the Center and not allowing the children to make toy guns out of Lego’s (which they often did and hid them under the Lego table.)

The one thing that marked this period in time was the beginning of the Iraq War.  I’m not sure that was the catalyst for their aggressive behavior but I knew that I needed to do something about it for the sake of the kids.  At my own expense, I hired a professional counselor who at the time had designed a program for children called “Cool Waves.”  The idea was to bring youngsters together for special  sessions which included everything from role playing to leadership training exercises and even watching videos designed to teach children how to resolve problems through non violent means.

We pitched the idea of this “Cool Waves” program to the young boys who had displayed aggressive behavior above and beyond what we thought was appropriate.  I secured permission from the parents. A signed contract from the boys meant that they understood that this program was to help them with their aggressive behavior but most importantly it would help them redirect their energy towards a more productive outcome.  They also understood that we were paying for this because we believed in them and we believed them to be our leaders of tomorrow.  “Leaders of tomorrow” was the phrase that appealed to them.  The sessions were held off site each week for a number of months.  The boys were respectful and made every attempt to make this work for all of us. I was so proud of them.  They graduated from the program and were told that it was their job to pass that knowledge and newly-found behavioral skills down to the younger children.  And they did.  The whole atmosphere at the Center changed. Violence was replaced with compassion, kindness and understanding.  Peace had been restored.

I share this story today because I’ve witnessed the same aggressive behavior in society probably more these days than ever before. And not just among children.  Have we replaced compassion and kindness with hatred and violence? Has arrogance and greed along with our hunger for superiority divided us even more?  Have we become a country of bullies?  We seem to bully those who don’t believe as we do. We bully those whose political positions don’t mirror our own. ?  I feel somewhere down the road, we have allowed our egos to get the better of us.   Maybe it’s time we all took a hard look at ourselves.

I’m not excluding myself in this. I have been examining my own behavior and becoming more conscious about my actions and my reactions.  We should all be willing to fight for compassion and not mistake kindness as a weakness.

 Peace be with you!

Helping children discover purpose

The ultimate field trip most summers was a trip to my house.  When I was owner of The Children’s Center, our summer outings usually included a field trip to my house. 

The twenty minute ride to my underground home in the middle of forty wooded acres usually included a conversation about litter and the importance of keeping our good Earth clean.  The ride down Germantown Road also included taking in the bright green road sides and if we were in luck some of the black eyed Susan’s, one of my favorite flowers,  were in full bloom.

Part of the outing included advance preparation. Those in attendance were instructed to bring a change of clothes and a pair of shoes they didn’t mind getting muddy.  We would also start the adventure off with making sure the kids were ‘vaccinated’ with bug spray.  Dressed out in their play clothes and their kick around shoes, we set off to travel the shallow creek that runs in front of our house. 

A natural spring at the top of our hill feeds the winding creek that runs the length of our property and beyond.  Cutting through huge stands of pine trees and winding around massive beech trees, it’s a sight I have never gotten tired of in my more than thirty years here.

I would take the kids down the creek to a hilly area where some of the bluffs that line the creek made the perfect slide.  I remember Daniel Lee having the time of his life sliding down those bluffs to the shallow creek below.  He couldn’t get enough of it.  And then there was Paula Brown who didn’t like getting dirty but accidentally fell in the creek. 

While we were taking our little hike through never-never land, I would always engage the girls in finding young grape vines and wrapping them into fairy wreaths for their heads.  We would add some flowers or whatever they thought would enhance their earthly halo.

Once we made it back to the house, I usually had to wash a few clothes and shoes and the kids would put on one of Rick’s big tee shirts.  They loved sitting around in the den and admiring all the artwork.  And that usually gave me an opportunity to share a true story with them about a particular piece of art in our living room. 

Teaching kids to love and admire art was one of my passions.  I couldn’t understand sometimes why some of the kids didn’t want to paint or draw or learn about this wonderful world of creativity. I would often hear “do I have to?”  And “why do you want us to do this?”  In my effort to expose the children to as many art forms as I could would result in them asking why they had to do this on many occasions.  They just didn’t understand why I thought it was so important. I had always hoped that this field trip to my house would help them understand me and understand why I thought the arts were so important.

One of the most impressive pieces of art in our home is a seven foot wood carving of an old Indian woman.  Carved out of a huge walnut tree, the crippled Indian woman carrying a bundle of wood commands attention.  The kids would want to know who she was, what’s she made of and who made her?  Charles Widmer of Mountain View, Arkansas carved the massive piece around 1990.  How we acquired the piece is another story. 

I started this ‘show and tell’ time with who the artist was and then I would tell them about his childhood…. a story that Charles Widmer shared with us.  As the story goes; Charles ran away from home when he was only 13 years old. He joined a motorcycle gang and for more than twenty five years he would spend his youth traveling the country side trying to survive his chosen hand to mouth existence.  His time as a member of "Hell’s Angels” was not a proud time for him according to Charles.  He was hesitant at first to share his early adolescence with us.  As Charles would tell it, he was a troubled child and didn’t do well in school. In fact he was illiterate. But at some point in his young life he was given a rare opportunity to work side by side with an older gentleman who carved wood. He taught the young Charles to whittle.

At the age of 30 Charles made his way back home to his hometown of Mountain View, Arkansas and moved back in with his father. Without knowing how to read or write and having no skills at all, he struggled with employment.  His dad had mentioned to him that when he was young he seemed to have a talent for whittling and suggested that maybe he could make a living as a craftsmen.  And if you know anything about Mountain View, Arkansas, then you know it is the Mecca of folk art and mountain music.  Charles signed up for one of the wood carving workshops offered at the Ozark Folk Center.  And this is where I explain to the kids that his early exposure to wood carving sparked something in his brain and without knowing it; he was exposed to the one thing that would make him the man he would become. And it would later become his passion and his purpose.

Wood carving was the one thing that he was good at. And not just good, he was great.  As most artists in Mountain View, tourist season would offer opportunities for the locals to sell their art or craft.  Charles began to create and sell original carved creations.  President Jimmy Carter came to visit and happened upon the shop where Charles was selling his work.  President Carter was so taken with the artist and his carving abilities that he commissioned him to carve a life-sized Eagle for the Carter Library. The wood carver from Mountain View, Arkansas who couldn’t read or write was now getting national attention.

The Indian carving in our living room called “The Burden” was carved from a story Charles’ father told him as a child.  The story was about an old Indian woman Charles’s father saw as a young man. The old Indian woman with one crippled leg would walk miles into the Texas dessert to collect fire wood and strap it to her back. She managed to eke out a living selling her wood….and now Charles was doing the same.

The window of opportunity for some of our children is small.  We don’t know what triggers the brain to accept a certain experience or skill.  But for Charles, that early exposure to wood carving hibernated in his brain and was awakened in time to bring him fame and riches.  Of course, his riches were modest but enough to sustain him and his wife.

In sharing this story with the kids that would visit my home, it was my hope that they would come to understand how important it would be in their life, to open their minds and open their hearts to opportunities for greater learning. "Be open to experience new things and learn new ways," I would tell them.  "Reading, writing and arithmetic are important but it’s passion that will help define your lives and give you purpose.  And there is great passion in the arts for those who are willing to open their minds to it."

Measuring success

I am not motivated by money. Never have been.  It is the success of the work or the passion for the project that drives me.  Even when I was an advertising sales person for the Minden Press-Herald, it wasn’t the commissions that drove me to sell more. It was the success of the ad campaign that I designed and the increased business for the client that brought me the most satisfaction.  

I have had many jobs in my life. My first job was with Ma Bell in Minden. I was a telephone operator and worked in the old South Central Bell building behind Minden Medical Center.  I had dropped out of college and sought full time employment.  In my more than one year on the job as a telephone operator, I challenged myself to beat the record for the number of calls completed in an hour.  As best I can remember the record was thirty something.  I had managed to exceed fifty completed calls in an hour.  My supervisors became suspicious. They began to monitor my calls and question my numbers.  I was young and did not realize that these supervisors were also operators at one time and it was their record that I was busting.  It became apparent that they were not happy with my performance and I had reached my goal and was now looking for another challenge.  So, I transferred to a sister company in Shreveport. 

This new job with Ma Bell consisted of reading the stamped time cards and placing them in one of more than fifty slots.  I set a new record there, too.  I left Ma Bell when we were transferred to Leesville. I could have transferred with the company but I was looking for a new challenge.  I eventually went to work for the Leesville Leader. It would be my first time as a sale person.  The managing editor of the Leader was an old newspaper man.  Jack taught me all the in’s and out’s of selling ads.  I not only sold the ads but I had to design them and construct them. I learned fast and before long I was leading the group in sales.  Jack took me under his wing and taught me all that he knew about the newspaper business.  His mentoring was life-changing for me.  I thought I had found my calling.

When we returned to Minden some four years later, I applied at the Minden Press-Herald and was hired on as the advertising manager. I was the first female to hold this position.  Even then, I was not driven by money. It was a good thing because the publisher of the paper  set my salary slightly lower than the salesmen who worked under me.  This was the first time that equality for women in the work place became an issue for me.  I approached my boss about the inequality and he did a very smart thing….he challenged me.  If I could increase the newspaper’s revenue from the previous year, he would raise my pay. I accepted the challenge and set out to break another record.  

I took on many jobs from working as the promotional manager for Channel 6 in Shreveport to in-house illustrator for a national manufacturing company. But it was the advertising and the marketing jobs that brought me the most joy.  So, I decided to start my own business.  I opened an advertising agency, Specialty Design. I had several clients and my success was measured more by the successful advertising campaigns I created rather than the size of my bank account.  And while I enjoyed self employment for more than two years, I eventually sought a more reliable revenue stream and accepted a newly created position as the marketing director for People’s Bank. 

Out of a personal need, I would eventually open The Children’s Center in Minden.  I needed to give my  5 year old son a safe haven for after school care, so Minden’s first afterschool enrichment center was opened.   This became my passion and my favorite job.   Providing a creative space for children set new standards for care for children.  And again I made it about the work and not the money.  I had to take on other jobs to sustain the business until it could sustain itself.  I truly believe that it was that mindset that contributed to the long running success of The Children’s Center. ..Now celebrating more than 25 years and in the hands of my dear sweet friend and former employee, Julie Vogel. 

In all my professional experiences, nothing has changed much.  I did discover my real passion was art and in particular children's access to the arts.  I now work part time as the art enrichment teacher for Glenbrook and love it.  My more than 200 young art students give me great joy and drive my desire to do more to advance the opportunities for children to express themselves.

Money still does not define me.   I know that most people don’t understand that and don’t understand me.  And because of that, my intentions are sometimes misunderstood.  My non paid  job as the executive director of Cultural Crossroads has laid before me the most challenging body of work. With unlimited artistic license, I am challenged to lead a group in the development of a four acre festival site known as The Farm.   But I can’t complete the body of work without money.  The four acre homestead was donated to Cultural Crossroads by my friend Zenobia West.  In 2000, she offered our nonprofit organization the opportunity of a lifetime.   Her desire to create a haven for children and a playground for creative expression has been my greatest challenge.  I promised her that I would see it through.  This sounds a little egotistical and that is not my intention. I don’t mean to discount the many wonderful volunteers who help us drive this project or the many wonderful people who have served on the Board of Directors.  And I don’t mean to discount the many individuals and corporate partners who have contributed funds to this twenty-two year old organization.  However, I do feel an enormous responsibility to make Zenobia’s dream a reality.

Her dream has now become mine. 

Someone once said:  "So many of our dreams at first seem impossible, then they seem improbable and then when we summon the will, they soon become inevitable."

Anger Management

When we returned from Paris, France in 1965, I was a freshman in high school.  Moving back to Doyline from Paris was a huge adjustment, to say the least.  I was so nervous the first day of school.  I remember looking at the old yearbooks from my earlier days in Doyline when I was in the 3^rd to the 6^th grade. I looked at the teenagers in the yearbook and I thought that I had a jump on their fashions by wearing a pair of bobby socks with penny loafers. I didn’t realize that times and styles would change.   

It didn’t take me long to figure out that I missed that by a long shot. I quickly took the socks off and went bared legged the rest of the day. It was a horrible first day.  As I got comfortable with my new surroundings, I brought my own style to Doyline all the way from Paris, France. I started wearing earrings and so did they. I started wearing fishnet stockings and so did they.  I was feeling pretty good about everything.  I was starting to fit in.

The cafeteria at the school was included in the same building that housed the gymnasium.  We were lining up for lunch one day and I happened to be on the opposite side of the gym door.  I overheard Coach Roach speaking to another teacher.  Coach Roach was a wonderful basketball coach. He took the basketball team all the way to State that year.  Everyone liked him. He had such a kind demeanor.  I thought the world of him.

As I stood at the door, I could hear their conversation. It was about me. I was excited at first. And then I heard Coach Roach say “Christine would be a fine student if she didn’t have such a bad temper.  She is such a hot head.”  Those words stung. I pretended that I didn’t hear them. It was hard finishing out the day at school.  His words kept playing over and over again in my head.

When I got home, we had supper and I went to my room to cry.   I was so hurt. How could he say those things about me? I thought he liked me? I thought I had a great relationship with all my teachers.

Doyline had some wonderful teachers.  Miss Mary Stone, my typing, bookkeeping and shorthand teacher; Jimmy Smith, my English and drama teacher; Mrs. Carolyn Burton, my home economics teacher; Mr. Bill Crider, my math teacher; Miss Eloise Sanders, my history teacher; and Coach James Roach, my PE teacher.  I could not have been luckier to have had these fabulous teachers guide me through high school.

While lying in bed that night, I couldn’t help but think that maybe he was right about my temper.  He wouldn’t say anything unkind about anyone if it wasn’t true.  I cried myself to sleep that night still pondering what I could do to correct this obvious flaw in my character.

The next morning I got up and began to think what could I do to change?  I picked up a rubber band off of my dressing table and put it around my wrist.  I have a great idea I thought. Each time I see myself getting angry, I’ll pop myself with the rubber band and count to 10.

I went to school that day on a mission to change my behavior.  From one incident to another, I caught myself in time to pop the rubber band and count to 10. I was successful that day and for the next two weeks. 


At the end of the two weeks, something surprising happened.  I had dressed out for PE like I had for the past year.  At the end of the class, Coach Roach approached me.  He put his arm around my shoulder, looked down at me and said, “Christine, I don’t know what you’ve done these past two weeks, but you are a different person.  You have turned into a sweet girl. Keep up the  good work. ”

That was it! I had succeeded in managing my anger. I had turned a corner.