Diary of A "Real" Family Thanksgiving....Breaking it Down

Old Crow Medicine Show...Rock me Mama like a wagon wheel, rock me Mama anyway you feel, hey, hey, Mama rock me.  Kitchen full of fixings. The music shouting the songs on the Thanksgiving CD mix.

Josh arrives in Albany Wednesday to spend the night with his Mema and Granddaddy before coming home.  Their house is a furnace. It always is...a furnace. We like it cold. They need it to be warm. My Mama sits with blankets covering her body while my hot flashes make me feel close to self combustion. And Daddy's heart surgery has seriously reversed his need for cool. They will soon travel to my home, one following the other.

The cows are laying down, the fish ain't bitin'. Random words by Kornbread Jr when he comes back from a drive. Words spoken by KB Sr hundreds of times, as he passed hundreds of fields.

Everybody arrives. The house smells of every food imaginable. Everybody's eyes are big and stomachs are growling. The secret to eating all you want for dinner, is no breakfast. Hence, the eyes ravaging over my counter tops.

Stomachs are full. Eyes are sleepy. Football is roaring from the screen, the Lions are losing. Aaron Rogers is the bomb. Paterno is shameful. Sandusky has a disease. And a player is ejected for stomping on another player. The announcer "looks like he'll take a drink". Another KB Sr quote rolling out of KB Jr's mouth.

A 6'8" man works in our Wal-Mart. Scary to look at. Too big for his body. Not normal growth development. Yao Ming. For example. It's real.

Thoughts from a child in a house where the thermostat is set on 78 degrees...at 1am..."I can get ice cubes and line my bed ...lay down...and survive."  Hot natured, hot flashes, it's all the same. He relates these thoughts to me, his mother...who is laughing so hard she is holding her sides.

Talks of unloading luggage and startling bumper stickers. "Republicans for Voldemort". A reference that has to be explained to me. And to his G-Daddy. Voldemort the Hitler of Harry Potter. Hilarious to his Ma. Not so much to his Republican G-Daddy. 

To his grandson's, "When I dated your Mema, it was a battle from the get go. It started with Wednesday Prayer meeting, and turned into Church three times a week. Before that, she wouldn't even talk to me. Wouldn't give me a bag of popcorn even if I paid her back tomorrow."  His daughter, "So, how in the heck did you two ever even start dating and end up together?" Stone cold serious Daddy replies, "Your Mama was just damned lucky". The room erupts with obnoxious, nose snorting laughter, and some serious doubt in the legitimacy of his statement. Somebody was very lucky, we're thinking it was him. But from the glow of her eyes across the room, maybe he's right. Real love.


Conversations around the table. Much later into the evening. Hippie son. Member of Fine Arts Master program. Seated next to him. Duplicate son of turnips greens and kornbread. Southern Alabama Mema and G-Daddy. And me, always the middle man. Segregation ~vs~ integration. Backs of school buses. Failing tests grades in most counties state wide. Perry Florida, White Only Section and Black Only Section in 2010. Mixed races, soon to be a one colored nation. Not in their time, but it's coming. Coloreds and Whites only, in 1950 we didn't use those ugly words. My boys don't see color. Just people. Years and generations apart.

Sullen faces, argumentative words. Gangs. All over the place. Ship those fighting, gun and knife toten' SOB's over to those countries that fight black on black. China has a two child limit law. That's what we need. I say, to Hippie son, you can't think like a gay man in order to understand fear of the black man. Hippie son says, I can't think like anyone else BUT a gay man. That's who I am. I'm more afraid of walking the dark streets as a gay man, anywhere, than walking the streets in a black neighborhood. Touche'.

Young KB Jr. injects, Praise the Lord, every five minutes or so. To keep the peace, or stir the pot. It's hard to tell. Sly winks and air head lifts tell me it may be the latter. Oldest liberal son, still not pleased with end result conversation. Grandparents, clearly, from another time, another place. Oldest Hippie son, bathes too much to be a true hippie. A high tech Bohemian at best.  So say the staunch Republicans to my very liberal Democrat son.

It runs late, they decide they will stay. A sleepover is happening. I have a king size bed. Plenty of room. Mother and daughter will sleep together. PJ's are donned and it is dark. Talks of dark houses, old fishing stories, cholesterol checks, low iron, high blood pressure and medications, PaPa Josh and Sara MaMa, and how wonderful my kids, her grand kids truly are. I haven't slept with my mother since junior high school and bad dreams. Talking in the dark, voices low and soft. She sounds like a teenager. Laughter erupts from down the hall. KB Jr has cracked up Hippie son. True, loud, raucous laughter that vibrates the walls. We smile in the dark. I can't remember loving my mother more. She is my best friend.

Music is playing again. "My oh my you're so good looking, put together like a pair of bookends, but I've not tasted all your cooking, who are you when I'm not looking?"....Blake Shelton, a pair of lungs pure as gold.

Another year comes and goes. My family is learning. Open is revealing, honest, mind boggling, and tension filled. Open love forgives all, no matter what. Open hearts, accept the differences and embrace the likenesses. One holiday down. Memories stored. Respect honored. Love intact. Success.
 

copyright © 2011 Michelle Mount Mims

And The Holidays Are Here....Again

I have had quite the melancholy day. The holidays tend to do that to me. And as much as I looked forward to having the time off from work, today has left me so listless. And with definitely, too much time to think.

I didn't sleep late. I got up to see both Zach off to school and Mims off to South Carolina. I skulked around on Face Book for an hour or so. My eyes were feeling droopy, so I went and laid back down. I got back up about an hour later. Made some coffee, opened my lap top, and picked back up where I left off.

I had been skulking around on Face Book again for about ten minutes, when my friend Kim came by the house. She stayed for about an hour, we talked, fussed and laughed and then she left. She was headed to the grocery store.

I settled back down. It was now after noon and I had still had no shower and was sitting around in my bed clothes. With no make up on. Which, by the way, is how Kim found me. I told her if word got out about how horrible I looked, I would know.  I piddled around, took out the trash and cleaned my kitchen counter tops. They tend to become the dumping spot for everything no one wants to walk the distance required to put it in it's place.

I kept walking by one of the mirrors on my dining room wall during all of this scuttling around. Each time, catching a glimpse of myself. Not too flattering to say the least. After a few minutes of that, I firmly made a decision to take a shower and get cleaned up. Fix that ratty mess of hair on my head and put some make up on this face of mine. The one that requires make up.

So now I am dressed and ready to go. Somewhere, anywhere, but where oh where would that be? I wasn't in the mood to go alone. Everyone else was at work, or school. So I sat back down, picked up the lap top, and fell into the bowels of the Internet one more time.

Finally Zach comes home. But not for long. He's off to the mine hole with his buddies. To go fishing. I get ten minutes of company and then he's off. Truck is pulling out of the drive way, and I am alone again.

I gotta tell you all, I'm not gonna be good at this alone stuff when or if it really happens for good. I mean a day or so here and there, I can rumble around and wallow in my own boredom and self pity. But much more than that, and someone will have to come pull me out. I'm not rich, so roaming for hours on end and spending money to blow time is not an option.

But today, in particular, with my husband headed home to spend time with his family, me, sitting here staring at a Christmas tree filled with memories all day long, and no one here to talk to but myself...not good. My mind flopped around back and forth between all of my grandparents who are no longer in this world. My eyes lit on the crystal angel ornament on my Christmas tree about fifty times. I saw an old empty cigar box in our washroom and memory smells from my PaPa came flooding back. My eyes filled with tears several different times.

I'm ready to see Joshua. I'm ready to see Joshua and Zach together. Ready for a hold tight hug from my oldest son. Ready to hear them laughing at me, cracking on me, telling old, unflattering stories about me, stories that have been told so many times, it's like a script we all can follow and recite. And finally, telling me they love me, and telling me peace out and good night.

I'm ready for some good food and family love. I'm ready to feel that old familiar comfort that comes from being surrounded by those you love the most. Like a freshly washed and out of the dryer blanket, wrapped around your body. I'm ready to ask, can I get you something else, some more tea and who would like some dessert? I'm ready to stand in the kitchen and listen to arguing about who has to clean what, and who gets stuck with the nasty dressing pan. Who's going to take out the garbage, because Josh thinks he's company now, and Zach assures him, he will NEVER be company and to take out the garbage.

Then I'm ready to sit around with full tummies and watch them all, one by one, find a place to land, nod off in their respective seats and swear they're just resting their eyes. I'm ready for everything that comes with my family. The jabs, the laughter, the unconditional love and acceptance.

Hopefully tomorrow, I'll be too busy getting ready to have the mullygrubs. And too busy to write. So I am wishing everybody a Happy Thanksgiving.  If you are traveling, please be safe, get to where you are going, and take no chances.  And most of all, love your family, they are how you got here. They will see you through until the end. Because that's what family's do.

And to my Bonus Family in South Carolina, take good care of Kornbread Sr for me....I sure do love that man we all share. Love you all too.

copyright © 2011 Michelle Mount Mims

This Crazy Ride Is My Life

I always hope, that when I have something to say, that it's relevant. That it can mean something to someone besides me. That it may help someone. That someone may be able to identify with my words. My thoughts. My problems. My life.

I always try my best to keep the information told to me in confidence, to myself. I would like to know, that I am treated the same. At the same time, I know that I take life experiences, that are not necessarily mine alone to bear, and I share them. I try my best to share them only from my perspective. I never want to try and second guess anyone's feelings. I never want to try and describe anyone's personal heartache. Mainly, because I don't think that can be done.

I have a recovering alcoholic Father, twenty three years sober. I have a recovering alcoholic husband, five years married, and sixteen years sober.  I lived my first marriage with an alcoholic and he is not sober yet. I probably did not leave him soon enough. Finances and children tend to prolong some things that are better stopped. I hope my children will not suffer from my decisions. My decision to stay longer than I should. And my decision to leave when I did.

I am a very strong woman, raised by very strong parents. Very caring, and passionate parents. They did not always express themselves the way I thought they should have, but I learned the lessons I needed. I understood what they wanted me to know. Their methods, while not mine, and albeit too strong, were heartfelt. I left behind, what I chose not to carry with me, and took, what was necessary for me to survive.

And I have survived. I survived with my two sons for almost thirteen years. Alone. We have raised each other. When what I brought to the table was too much, they showed me a softness that would allow me to feel shame. When I was more than I needed to be, they showed me humor, and taught me the ability to laugh at my own idiocy.

And my boys taught me never ending love is real. It is the most concrete love I have ever known. It is indestructible. Undeniable. And most times, indescribable. It runs as deep as my veins will allow. Sinking into the marrow of my bones. I will never in my life love anyone more. I know, I could never love them any less.

My second husband, and my last, has taught me patience I never knew existed, and that slow, quiet love is just as wonderful as the wild, wild ride I heard so much about, so many years ago. He is steady, he is real, and he is the plain hard facts. He does not quibble about his thoughts, and is slow to relieve himself of guilt. But he will, because I taught him that. I taught him that all children need to hear I love you. That all children need hugs. And that when you're sorry, say so. It matters.

He taught me, that all men from the back woods of South Carolina are not to be judged by their speech. That he was smart enough, and man enough, to leave his racist feelings behind, and love our gay son as if he were still, just our son. Because he is, just our son. He taught me that you can change, when you find someone you love enough, to change for. And he has taught me quiet strength is the most powerful of all. Both of my children possess it as well. I am still learning.

I wouldn't change anything about my life. Not one, single, solitary thing. Not the choices. Good or bad. Not the decisions. Right or wrong. We will all have to answer for our lives one day. I hope my good outweighs the bad. I hope my heart has worked harder than my thoughts. I hope He thinks that I tried hard enough with everything that I should have. And I hope He forgives me for the times I fell short.

Love yourself. Love your choices. Live for everyone you love and live for yourself. And never, ever, regret. Because without what we have, and what we've been through, we would never be right here. Right now. And I wouldn't miss the rest of this ride for anything.

copyright © 2011 Michelle Mount Mims

Every Time In Life Has a Place, And Every Place a Time

Me and Kim, at Sara MaMa's house, with her Silver tree and the electric colored machine.

"I love my house, I love my nest, in all the world, my nest is best". It truly is...the best. We don't live in the grandest neighborhood. And we sure don't live in a big fancy house. But it's our house. And it's paid for, free and clear. In this day and time, the economy up and down every day, that's a great comfort when I lay my head down every night.


Each year that rolls around we always decorate. I have decorative flags for every occasion. Every season. Every holiday. For every moment life has to bring, my house represents. And Christmas is certainly no exception. Christmas brings double duty, inside and out.

My family grumbles and mumbles, gripes and moans. And I have to admit, we have tapered down somewhat over the years. The yard is not as lit as it used to be. We used to light the house, and streamline the Dogwood trees all the way down the front of the house. But somewhere, about the time Joshua moved off to go to college, things slowly seemed to change.

Zach's interest has waned quite a bit. They act like I'm crazy and as if every minute is killing them. But maybe it's not as fun, making fun of crazy, maniacal Mama without Joshua to chime in and help. I even noticed the difference yesterday when most of the light stringing was going on. Matt was here to help, and between he, Zach and Mims, it all got done efficiently and with ease. No fussing. Well, a tad, when I piped up and said I wanted more lights here or there. Or told them something was crooked or needed to be moved over an inch. Or a half inch. I was able to do most of the inside alone. The 'round the edges' decorating I call it. I left the tree ornament decorating for today. I was just too tired. And honestly, I can never remember going to bed, and haven gotten that far, and not finished. But I sat right here in my recliner last night, perfectly satisfied with looking at a naked lit tree.

This morning, refreshed and rejuvenated, and ready to be done, I dragged the big box of ornaments forth and began what I call the art of Christmas.  And it is an art. You don't just throw ornaments on a tree any old kind of way. They are strategically placed, based on size, color, and memory. This morning was our only 'drama'. I needed help in the high and out of reach places, and Zach was not interested. A few ugly words left my lips, which left Zach an opening for an irony lecture. You know the one. Decorating for the season of Jesus, and talking ugly don't mix.

Ah, the memory ornaments, the hardest to stop putting on the tree. Hand made by little hands and big hearts, at school and at home. Ornaments that were purchased and dated and tagged with a name for each year my children have been born. Or ornaments that represent who they are (Alabama) and who they are a fan of (Longhorns). Each son 'owns' a side of the tree. And if you follow the puzzle, each side is a slideshow of who they are, and where they were in time, at certain points of their lives. At some point, it will be a nice thing for me to do, to give up those decorations, and relinquish them to my sons. I'm not ready yet.

But I do know the day is coming. The one I have seen in my parents. The one I saw in my own grandmother so many years ago. I used to fuss at my MaMa Eloise because they stopped putting up a tree. She said they always came to our house, and no one saw it. I told her, they did. They saw it. And didn't it make her feel better? She pacified me a year or two. Then stopped again. And even now, my parents are mumbling about only putting it up for themselves, because the holiday gatherings and meals have moved to my house.

I used to not understand that at all. My children were still young enough to transfer their infusion of excitement to me. Anything that made them happy, made me doubly so. But this year, I saw a sliver of how that feels. Like you're decorating for the memory of it, more than the want to of it. How the memory makes you feel. I guess we're all at that age some time. The age where you're constantly reaching backward, looking for something that makes you feel good today.

Hopefully, one day, some grandchildren will come along, and give me that old familiar push again. When you see their eyes filled with awe and twinkles as the lights and colors overwhelm their sense of sight. When they remind you, every night, to hurry and let's turn the lights on, it's dark now! In the meantime, I still have stockings hung and lights strung. I still have my tree up in all it's years of beauty combined. And I still have lights outside, strung across bushes , on swings, bells, and car sheds. It's enough to keep me going. Until the spirit is revived and the reason to 'over' decorate' presents itself again.

I can still close my eyes and smell both of my grandmother's houses. I can't wait until little ones can close their eyes, and smell mine.

copyright © 2011 Michelle Mount Mims

Willie Is On The Web

"Baby, did you hear about the robbery at the Dollar General?" I look at Mims and say..."Yes I did, but not by you...I had to get the 411 from somebody at work..where did you hear about it at?" Mims says "I saw it on the web."  I busted out laughing..Zach follows..laughing harder. He saw it on the web. Yeah.

Three weeks and two days ago, Mims got his first computer. At work. There has been a computer in my house since 1993. As of four weeks ago, Mims was still standing behind my chair to look at pictures, as I clicked, from one page to another. Because he didn't even know how to turn a computer on. Now, he's looking at the news, on the web. 

He's at WORK. Looking at the news. On the web. I began making cracks about the shakedown that is surely coming. Human Resources, sighting all the different sites he is and is not allowed to go on. Zach begins to tell him how easy it is to wind up on the "wrong kind" of sites. Both Mims and I snap our heads around in his direction, as Mims says "Get yourself in some trouble boy, keep talking."

Which of course leads to me telling them about the site for "fat old ladies" I found while looking for a picture for one of my stories. I always go to Google...then put in...pictures of rainbows, pictures of flowers etc. Well this particular night, I put in the google space... pictures of fat old ladies. Every XXX SITE you can think of came up! I was freaking out. Hitting the escape button. And as I'm telling this story..Zach takes it on in....finishing my story...laughing, and slapping his leg.


Zach begins to give his own account of me pulling up fat old ladies. Begins the show of a lifetime mimicking what I would look like trying to get my computer to switch screens. And he says, what if...laughing hysterically as he tries to talk, what if, your screen froze up and you couldn't get it off. You had to take it back to the Geek Squad at Best Buy and get them to clean it up and fix it. They would be looking at you and your screen that still had a picture of a fat old lady spanking her own behind, flickering over and over again. He's so loud, and laughing so hard, he can't breathe.

Now many of you may remember the two separate, but very close in time, related incidents concerning my two men..and Best Buy. Last year right after Christmas. One involved a GPS and the other a truck stereo. These two purchases and their customer related malfunctions, took over nine trips back and forth from Quincy to Best Buy in Tallahassee. Many cross words were passed between my men and the customer service representatives at Best Buy. I believe even a few mild mannered threats were insinuated. At one point, I was on line with Envision Credit Union checking out my savings account status. For possible bail money availability.

So I let Zach and Mims have their fun with me. Because by now, Mims is in on it too. Laughing his head off as Zach continues to create a story to remember. Still laughing about the old fat lady, spanking her own behind, and the Best Buy personnel looking at me like I'm a freak. Zach says, choking on his own question from laughter, "Really, what would you say, what would you do?"

I just sat here and laughed with them. Smiling. Right along. And when Zach asked me that, I just looked at him and said, 'Well son, I would probably begin by explaining that my perverted husband who has just learned how to use a computer, has been "using" my computer for awful, and degrading acts of behavior. And that while I, myself, was ashamed to have to bring the computer in to be repaired, I knew it would have to be me, or else it would never happen. Then I would pause, and smile, and say, see the two pictures hanging on your wall over there in Electronics? Those two pictures of those two men, who are NEVER allowed to come into your store anymore? One of those is my perverted husband who tore up my computer trying to search for fat old ladies "on the web". "  At that point, I would fully expect that sales representative to look back at me, with a look of absolute pity, pat me on the back, and say "Yes, ma'am, we'll be glad to take care of this for you" and walk off shaking his head, wondering, how such a sweet, sweet woman, could have wound up with such a pervert for a husband. A WANTED perverted husband at that. With his picture, hung up on the Wall of Shame.

Mims came to have a computer at work, because I, as Purchasing Manager, was trying to bring the Quality Assurance Departments, in both of our Florida and Arizona plant locations, technically up to speed.  Now that he's heard funny, yet scary stories about what web surfing can do from Kornbread Jr., Willie Delbert Mims might just want to stick to surfing the Weather Channel. He needs his job, and I would like to keep him as my husband. And him, looking at fat old ladies spanking their own behinds on the XXX sites, might prevent both of those things from happening.

copyright © 2011 Michelle Mount Mims

Second Time Is A Charm

As I watched the events unfold, I knew this would be forever. Sometimes when you look at people, you just know. I don't know why, for some of us, it takes a second time before it's right. It just does. But man, when it's right, anybody and everybody around you knows it. The culmination of what it takes to bring about that magic...who really knows. It's like a secret recipe. A little of this, a lot of that, and a pinch of one or more ingredients makes the whole thing come out just right.

I knew I would cry. I always do. There's something about looking at real, true love that does that to me. Heck, my eyes were watering once the music started. Which by the way, was the perfect music for these two people, all the way through the ceremony. There's a lot of thought process that goes into that part of a wedding. Individual tastes and personalities dictate what we, as the witnesses, will hear. And every note and every word, was true to form, for these two people and who they are to each other.

She was as beautiful as I knew she would be. And he was just as handsome as every other time I have ever seen him. He beamed with love and pride as she made her journey down the aisle towards forever. Her sweet Daddy, holding onto her, one last time. It sounds exaggerated, but her face was actually glowing. I wish you could bottle the expression on her face. What a fortune you would make with the scent of love and happiness that was so openly expressed.

The vows were spoken with smiles and almost laughter all the way through. I think she was nervous, and she laughs, as she always has, when she's nervous. Or maybe, she and only she, knew the secrets his eyes were telling her in their silence. It's obvious there are a lot of unspoken words passed between them. Words that bring small smiles, sweet expressions and private laughter.

The sand ceremony was familiar, yet always fresh and new to me. The blending of souls and love into one place. The presence of your love shown in a form of a forever keepsake. Grayson, Tracy and Madison, all poured into one place, one heart, one life in its new beginning. 

The second set of vows were spoken with their little girl, Madison. Tracy will share, as she has for so many months now, in the raising and guiding through life of Madison. I had never before seen this type of insertion into a wedding ceremony and it was absolutely beautiful. I think it should be a part of every wedding ceremony where children are involved in the joining of lives. It was beautiful that Tracy and Grayson both acknowledged Madison's part in this journey.  Such respect, such love, they were willing to announce to the world and promise to Madison. She too, received a small ring on her tiny hand, as a token of forever.

While I have not known Tracy since birth, I feel as if I have known her a lifetime. She has one of the most beautiful souls on this earth. I constantly tell her, she is truly an angel here on earth. And I mean it. With all of my heart.  She, Grayson and Madison are about to begin a new life, and in a few short months, Waylon will join them. He was there today, and I'd like to think, he knew it. I believe even unborn babies feel happiness and contentment. And as his Mama, danced with his Daddy, he was able to participate in the time old ceremony, the first dance. Tucked between Tracy and Grayson, he moved and swayed with the music of love, and couldn't have been any closer to the two of them, had he been here already.

I wish much love to this new little family. I wish many days of cupcakes and birthday candles, Mommy and Daughter day pedicures, camouflage jeeps, and BB guns.  I wish for many more dances in the moonlight with bonfires glowing in the background, and sweet country music playing on a radio in the distance.

Happy Wedding Day to Grayson, Tracy, Madison and Waylon. What a wonderful life lies ahead of you. True love is a gift from God. I'm so glad He has blessed all of you.

copyright © 2011 Michelle Mount Mims

Oh, What A Show You Can See From Up There

I've heard of it. A lot. I've just never seen it with my own two eyes. In person. In real life. With people I know. Personally. When it's happening, it's as if, nothing is really solid. It's so light, and weightless. Almost surreal. It just starts. You never really know that's what's happened. Until it's almost over.

That's the way it was tonight. Every single player was so light on his feet. They almost appeared to be flying low to the ground. The rally was on from the minute they stepped onto the field. The camaraderie was solidified. In unspoken unison, they all had the same goal. They all had the same dream. The same wish. The same desire.  Cohesive in every way.

Play after play, they all excelled. So many beautiful plays. So many beautiful passes and catches. So many seamless runs. Everyone played tonight, injured and all. Hurt shoulders that will need surgery, slamming into fences and rising to line up again. Maintaining and obtaining a season of yards surpassing what seemed possible two weeks ago. Touchdowns that appeared to be effortless in their ebb and flow.

They all had already decided. It was never in question how this game would go. It was never doubted that this win would be for someone very special. His beautiful wife, son and daughters, watched, as his grandson would put on the show of his life. Most certainly the game of his year. His Senior year. His final year of high school. His name was called tonight over and over again. Touch downs, tackles, and runs. Over and over. Make no mistake. He knew. He heard. And he was so very proud.

It has always given me great comfort to believe that you're never really gone from this world. That once you have been called Home, you still see. You still know. And you're still proud. I believe Mr. Frank watched Fletcher tonight as he has not been able watch him in a long time. No longer with pain or discomfort, but with joy and smiles. I believe he has already found old friends at his new Home. And I believe they were ALL up there cheering and rooting the Mighty Bobcats and his grandson to victory.

I'm very proud to belong to such a tight knit family as the Munroe Family. It's a great comfort to know, when you hurt, they hurt. It's a great comfort to know, that we're all there for one another in the good times and the bad. Those Bobcats decided tonight would be more than just Senior Night...it would be Mr. Frank's night.

Mr. Frank, I hope you enjoyed the show. They did it just for you, no doubt. As Kim Brown said so eloquently earlier today..."You had the best seat in the house tonight...the view from the Sky Box". Yes sir. I'm pretty sure. You didn't miss a thing.

Rest in Peace Mr. Frank, you will be missed.

copyright © 2011 Michelle Mount Mims