This is the table that Jack . . . er, Donna, built (or moved, or set up or, whatever.)
There is the notebook that was thrown on the table that Donna . . . built.
There are the papers that were tossed on the notebook that was thrown on the table that Donna built.
There are the pencils and pens with the shattered and spent ends that were scattered onto the papers that were tossed on the notebook that was thrown on the table that Donna built.
Two weeks ago the Porters did the Great Room Shuffle once again. Two adult boys in one bedroom just wasn’t cutting the mustard anymore.
In the process, I lost my “office” room and am now back in the dinette in the kitchen.
It’s not so bad. I get to look out the backyard. I can open the windows a tad (not too far or Fuego will push through the screen) for fresh air (when there is fresh air). And in the process, with so much chaos, I got the drive to clean and do a much needed purge on bookshelves, drawers, and my files. (If you think the above is bad, you should have seen it two weeks ago.)
And I won’t lie — being between books helped to fuel my fire. ‘Tis as if I get the urge to nest before I start the next project, which I am self-scheduled to begin the week after next.
In all the turmoil that was unceremoniously dumped here from files and bookcases, however, I came across the gem below. It is a family crest I designed for a unit I did in a social studies methods class while at A & M. We were assigned the task of creating a “Family History Unit” for a 5th grade class. Having already been deep in my family tree at that point, this was right up my alley. It was not like studying at all!
And yes – it has a Confederate flag. Wonder if that would fly now? (Pun totally intended there.) Would I have been counted off or not allowed to turn it in? Or would I have been allowed my freedom to express myself?
My explanation for using such in my family crest?
I graduated from Robert E. Lee High School as did both of my parents. My dad coached there for many years. My sister and I were practically born with a Gander (the mascot) in our hands. The band, which I was drum major of my senior year, played Dixie at every game and then some. Our band uniforms had a Confederate cross on the chest shield and Robert E. Lee’s family crest on the back.
I have no idea what the band uniforms look like today. They were, I know, forced to quit playing Dixie a number of years ago. The Confederate flag is gone as well.
But the coat of arms was not the only gem in that notebook. It was a gem I had wondered if I still had somewhere in all my stuff.
Next week, I will show what it was . . .