When Suzanne and I were waiting to get on our plane home from the Nashville airport, Bow Tie o’ the Day asked, “Did we bring Gary on our vacation?” I was pretty sure we hadn’t brought him, even though I knew Gary and my Sister Who Wishes To Remain Nameless would have enjoyed Nashville to no end.
I looked around our boarding gate area to see what Bow Tie was talking about, and I saw this flannel shirt guy apparently stretching his legs before boarding his next plane. He circled the terminal for about an hour, and every time he strolled close to us, he caught my eye. He dressed like Gary. Beard, glasses, hat—same. He even walked like Gary walks. Golly, he was Gary’s doppelgänger!
Whether airport guy was the good twin or the evil twin, I don’t know. Perhaps I should have asked him which twin he was. Gary’s always been a decent man to me and my family. Heck, he’s been a happy-to-fix-it hubby to me and Suzanne. I’m betting he’s the good twin. But now that I know for sure Gary has a doppelgänger, I’m keeping a sharper eye on him and his deeds—just in case he’s the bad seed.
Here’s how Mom showed up at my former Delta house one morning a few March’s ago. Mom is one person who is allowed to show up on TIE O’ THE DAY posts whether or not there’s any sort of tie anywhere in the snapshot. I kneel in honor of Mom’s massive, over-the-top coolness.
Apparently, my oldest sister has been leading a secret double life for years. She’s had us all fooled with her low-key Utah life, while she’s been brazenly hawking cowboy boots in her Nashville store. TIE O’ THE DAY’s discovery explains a lot about Betty/BT/Mercedes.
I am humbled by how much love has surrounded me from the moment I took my first breath. Thank you, Suzanne, for your steadiness. I’m sorry I am so often a storm.
[This is a re-post of a popular tale from August 2018—about three weeks after my Hanky Panky surgery. I was recuperating, mostly by not-lifting things around the house, on Suzanne’s orders. Enjoy.]
Bow Ties o’ the Day had a fantastic time at Cafe Niche for Sunday brunch. As you can see, Suzanne wanted to get in on the bow tie act. We donned our bow tie bibs for the feast because we were famished, and we were afraid we might eat sloppily. The bow ties on each bib did a perfect job of keeping our clothing from being defaced by our lack of delicate eating. And bigly Bow Tie o’ the Day presents its grapes– Mormon grapes for Sunday, I’m sure.
Brunch can have a calming effect. I recommend it when you’re stressed out or tense. Suzanne and I stressed ourselves out by having a little tiff last night— over nothing of any real importance. But the tiff happened, and the tiff went on in silence, right on into this morning.
In the middle of the night when I had to potty, I ended up using the last few squares on the toilet paper roll. There was a new roll on the bathroom vanity, three inches from the tp holder. Normally, of course, I’d change out the empty roll—no matter what time of the middle of the night it was. But I was still miffed about the tiff, and there was no way in heck I was gonna politely take the old roll off and put the new one on. Nope. Suzanne was gonna have to do it herself the next time she needed to potty. (That’ll teach her!) And do you know what I thought in my tiff-miffed head as I walked back to bed? I thought with great sarcasm, “Well, she told me I wasn’t allowed to lift anything, and I’m sure that includes a roll of toilet paper.” And I sooo wanted her to say something to me about the empty toilet paper roll incident this morning, so I could say the same snotty thing right to her precious face. But she said nothing about it. And then we went to brunch, and everything got forgiven and forgotten.
Bow Tie o’ the Day’s fabric shows off pavers, which is why it is named PAVERLY by my go-to bow tie manufacturer—Beau Ties of Vermont. I decided it was a fitting choice for this outing because pavers can be used to create a path that can be traveled more easily, more beautifully, and safer than before the pavers were set down. Suzanne and I were at Utah Valley University last week to attend an event about some of the Utah women who paved—and continue to pave— their own roads, to everybody’s benefit.
The presentation was called CELEBRATING UTAH WOMEN: REMEMBERING THE PAST TO SHAPE THE FUTURE. Mom would have enjoyed the speakers. She has always emphatically said, “We need more women in charge of things!!!!! They see the big picture!!!!!” (Yes, she says it with that many exclamation points.) To which I usually say, “Gee, Mom. Tell us what you really think.” Mom’s opinions are not shy. They just show up and get right in your face, and you have to deal with ’em. I absolutely treasure Mom for that feistiness. That woman has blazed her own bigly trail, and more than a few of us have benefited from spending some time on it with her, when our own path was too much to handle at the time.
We can’t take the same exact path others have taken. We are, each of us, unique. Only your own trail will fit you. Our paths are not One Size Fits All. Your path is One Size Fits One. Of course, we will inevitably use each others’ paths on occasion. We can’t help it, cuz so much paving has already been done for us. And if someone ahead of us has blazed a fruitful and captivating path, we can take it and add our own detours which align with our individual destinations. We don’t have to lay every paver that ends up under our feet. Thank you, ancestors.
For example, I don’t have to fight to win the right to vote—even though I’m JUST a girl. A lot of somebodies already paved that trail for me. They “won” that right just for little ol’ me, so I don’t have to fight for it. Neither do you. I’ve got my right to vote, and with it comes a responsibility. To me, I am disrespectful of those who wrangled me that right if I don’t use it. And so I vote.
I am free to fight other fights that matter to me and the bigly planet. It’s my responsibility to fight those fights I can—most of which can be won by simple human kindness to/from all those involved. I am obligated to fight, and in so doing, change the world even the teensiest bit by setting down my own twisting and turning paver paths. Somebody is gonna need to use my road to make their own.
Whether you are aware of it or not, somebody’s always behind you on the path you pave. Actually, “multitudes” is probably closer to the count of those who look to you. Do you really want them to follow you? Are you comfortable with them seeing the road you’ve built? If you aren’t, you’ve done some evil paving, and you are running out of time to fix it. Get your tools out.
BTW The editor of THE SALT LAKE TRIBUNE, Jennifer Napier-Pierce was a presenter at the event. I realized she had been a student in a writing class I taught at the U of U in the late 80’s. I must have been an incredible teacher, if she’s now the editor of a statewide newspaper.
Another BTW It is “true” that THE TRIB is the “evil” newspaper of the two major papers in Salt Lake City, so only apostates read it.😜 Still, Mom and Dad were forever what I call TRIBBERS, as am I.
Check out this pic I found in an old box. That’s my beardless, beekeeper dad, posing with 4 of his Wiley Coyote pals. Dad loved to hunt coyotes, and their bounties helped pay our bills through many a winter—while the bees went on vacation to anywhere it wasn’t cold, which was usually California.
I think what made Dad such a skillful coyote hunter was that he understood them. He and the coyotes kept the same hours and roamed the same territory. They crossed paths with each other daily before dawn, covering miles and miles of the western Utah desert. They saw decades of sunrises together. Dad and his coyotes were most at home when dwelling in the first-light swell of silence as it settled across the top of the dirt beneath their feet. They respected each other.
For this photo, I chose a lavender Bow Tie o’ the Day to pose with Dad and the coyotes because Dad loved his purples. Mom made a lavender quilt for their bed when I was a kid, and it was his favorite blanket ever. Mom also gave Dad a purple nightgown for his birthday once. And it wasn’t for him to wear—if you know what I mean. 😉💜
Bow Tie o’ the Day knows what you’re thinking: That outfit is not a traditional Oscar gown. No, but it is sequin-covered and glitzy. And there are some bigly plus’s to choosing this get-up. First, it probably has a relatively low price tag compared to the cost of a fancy gown, cuz a mini-dress does not require as much material. And sequins are cheap. Second, and most importantly to me, the designer of this dress clearly meant for it to be worn bra-less. And you know darn well I am all about going sans bra whenever possible.
But in the final analysis, I must admit I cannot choose to wear this outfit to the Academy Awards. Why? Not only is the dress nothing like my style, I was also raised right. Heck, I was even reared correctly. My beloved mother is still alive, and she doesn’t need to see me bare-chested, bra-less and skanky on the Red Carpet—even though she feels the same way I do about the wearin’ o’ bras. According to Mom, she has never been chagrinned by my flamboyant, clashy fashion choices; and I certainly do not intend to wear this glam dress now and start embarrassing her at this point in her lengthy life. She’s heading for 90 this year, and I vow that my fashion behavior is not going to be a speed bump for her and her walker.
Bow Tie o’ the Day and I are struggling with the fact that tonight we’ll be watching the last new episode ever of HOMICIDE HUNTER: LT. JOE KENDA, on the ID channel. We’ve been wearing black all day, and we consider ourselves to be in minor mourning. It is just a tv show, but it matters to me. Suzanne likes it too. And both of my sisters are bigly fans. Heck, even Mom got a kick out of Joe’s “my, my, my”-ing whenever she watched it with us over the years. The last time she watched an episode with us, she said of Joe Kenda, “How long has this old fossil been on tv? He’s been solving murders for a hundred years. He plays his part so well.” Yup, cuz he is playing himself. But not anymore.
I have no doubt I’ll shed a few tears after tonight’s finale. C’mon, you know you have “your” shows which you must not miss. The tv shows we’re partial to can be a regularly scheduled respite to us, in the midst of an unpredictable and serious world. I know Lt. Joe Kenda has sometimes been the exact kind of pal I’ve needed at the time: a weekly dose of a smart, compassionate storyteller who asks absolutely nothing from me. Unfortunately, the Joe Years of my life will be over at 8 PM tonight. But I still have my Joe Kenda t-shirt to wear and two HOMICIDE HUNTER notebooks to fill.
We here at TIE O’ THE DAY thought some of you might be curious to see the completed “dogs doo-dooing” puzzle. Suzanne was discombobulated by the subject matter, but she puzzled right along with me, nonetheless. And yes, she placed the last pieces together. She’s The Puzzle Closer.
