CeeCee Honeycutt and me

I just love a good book, only problem is that I rarely take the time to read one. When I do find one I love though, I just cannot put it down! I get so immersed in the world, and the characters become like friends so when it's over I feel as though I am missing them. It's like I want to go back into their world and check up on them from time to time. Know what I mean?

My latest read is "Saving CeeCee Honeycutt" by Beth Hoffman. I actually found this little gem at Half Price Books while waiting for a friend. It was in the clearance section, always my first stop in that store, but it's worth SO much more than the $2 I paid for it.

It takes place mainly in the South in the late 1960's. The title character is 12 years old and goes to live in Savannah, GA with her great Aunt after her mother's passing. Her new world is rich with large homes, large gardens, large southern accents and even larger characters. It reminds me a lot of "The Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood" meets "The Secret Life of Bees". (Also both great reads.)

Even though I didn't grow up in what some consider the "true South", much of this book speaks to me. Growing up in Texas, some of these characters remind me of the older people from my past.

Growing up, I spent a majority of my time at my grandmother's home. She lived there with her mother, my great grandmother. My Nanny and Granny respectively. My Granny was born in 1896 and from the stories she told me of her life, it was a rough one. But she was full of love. Love for life, love for family and not afraid of hard work. She reminds me so much of Oletta in this book. Just a fountain of wisdom and able to tell just the right story at the right time to really speak to me about something. She was a God of sorts to me as a child. Not a day goes by that I don't miss her. I often hear her words of wisdom in my head.

My grandmother was born in 1922. She was the only girl of 6 kids. She quit school in the 8th grade and was married by 15. She is my Aunt Tootie. She loved to drive fast, paint her nails, and get her hair done...and she was great to me. She could be tough, tough as nails, but tender too. My sister and I loved to spend time at her house. We were there every morning for a full breakfast, every day after school and all day during the summer. Our mother worked full time, so Nanny was our caretaker. I remember sitting at the vanity in her room playing with all her costume jewelry, makeup, lotions and powders. I think her bed was the most comfortable one I've still ever slept in. She used to say to me after school, "Do you hear that, Shannon? My bed is calling for you." And I'd go lay down for a quick power nap. I've never slept that well before or since. I sure do miss her, but I feel as though she is watching over me. Watching over her whole "little family" as she liked to say.

I think what strikes me most in this book, as it relates to me, is that CeeCee really enjoys her time with Oletta and Aunt Tootie and the other elder characters in this book. She admires theses older people, learns from them, leans on them, loves them.

When my sister and I were young, I remember many a time sitting on the front porch or in the living room of my grandmother's home, shelling peas with Granny. We would reach into the old sack my Great Uncle Gene had brought from his farm, and shell them into an old pot. I never ate any of these peas mind you, as I was a picky child, but the fun was in the spending time with Granny and listening to her stories and just basking in the glory of who she was. I learned a lot during those shelling sessions. A lot about her, a lot about me, a lot about life.

And then there were the the late nights of dominoes. My Nanny and Granny and other extended family, Great Uncles and Aunts, would sit up and play late at night. My sister and I would sneak out of our room at her house and listen to them from the hallway. All of them crowded around the table, Rangers baseball game on the radio, fans running to cool the air in the TX summer heat. I just loved to hear them talk and watch how they related to one another. Oh how I wanted to be at that table. I still have that table as a matter of fact. It now sits in my dining room. We sit under it only at big family gatherings like Christmas or Thanksgiving, but when we do, I feel like Nanny and Granny are there with us. I finally made it to dominoes.

I think this is why this book speaks to me. CeeCee respects her elder generation. They are her friends. She listens to them, wants to be with them, wants to please them. I grew up that way, as did many of us from my generation and those before us. I think it's lost today. You don't see the big extended families as much. My boys don't really have that, and it makes me sad. I often think that they won't have the great memories that I do. That my sister does, that my husband does. But I guess too, that they won't know what they are missing. They won't shell peas, or long to sit with the older people and play dominoes or hear the Rangers on the radio. They won't know what it's like to sit on a porch swing and drink sweet tea. But I guess they will have their own memories and I am sure they will hold them just as dear.

But I know that my elders are what made me. They helped to mold me into who I am today as a person, a wife and a mother. I learned more in an afternoon with them then I think I did all of school. Life lessons. And I think it's what "saves" CeeCee Honeycutt in this book. The wisdom and love of her elders. We really should cherish them more.

See that "superhero" up there? That is me. No, really it is. I am a worrier. I panic. I am always waiting for the other shoe to drop, as they say. I think I have always been that way. I'm pretty sure my mother never had to warn me to look both ways when crossing a street, stay in the shallow end, not talk to strangers or any of that. I always found myself telling those things to my friends who would look at me like I was crazy as if to say "Gah! You are not our mom. Where is your sense of adventure?" I like adventure, as long as it's indoors and well supervised. That's fun too, right?

Now that I am the mom, my worrying tends to limit my kids in their lives. I don't enjoy being outside for long. I'm scared to death of bugs (wasps mainly...or bees...or hornets...or anything with a stinger) and God forbid a dog be running loose. Just typing that makes me squirm. Summer is pretty boring around here because of that. I like my boys in my sights, because then I know they are safe. It wasn't until last year that I let my oldest start playing outside with friends, on their streets or in their homes. And sometimes when he rides off on his bike to go to his friends houses, I still get a little voice in my head saying "Gosh, I hope he comes back home safe to me." Insane? Perhaps a tad. Medicated? Not yet, but might be a good idea.

But, I think the time that my anxiety is at it's worst, is when one of my boys is sick. About 4 years ago now, my oldest came down with strep that turned into pneumonia. He was on antibiotics and steroids as well as breathing treatments. It was a scary time, but nothing we couldn't handle. That all changed on an August morning near the end of his course of medicine. He came into our room saying his mouth hurt. One look and we knew that something was horribly, horribly wrong. His entire mouth was so swollen and full of grape sized blisters, that his lips were turning outward. Well of course, we rushed him to his pediatrician. She took one look and said, "It's SJS. He has to get to the hospital, now!" So an ambulance was called. My husband rode with him, while I took our younger son to stay with a friend. I have never cried so hard as I did that day. I was terrified. I didn't even know what SJS was yet, or what caused it. All I knew was that my baby was on his way to the hospital in an ambulance and I wasn't sure exactly when I would get to him.

That was a scary two weeks. He was in Children's of Dallas that long, and while they were wonderful to us, I hope to never see that place ever again. If you aren't familiar with SJS (Steven Johnson Syndrome) I encourage you to educate yourself. I won't go into details here, but for to say that my son's was actually caused my the antibiotic he was on for the strep/pneumonia.

The aftermath of that illness,though, has been tough. I am thankful every single day that physically my son came out unscathed, but I think mentally that I did not. This only fed into my anxiety and ever since then when one of my boys is sick, I think about that morning in August. It doesn't help that since that time, my oldest has also had allergic reactions to several other antibiotics. We are now down to one more antibiotic choice for him. He's taken it once, and thankfully did okay.

And that brings us to current. My youngest was diagnosed yesterday with strep and a strep rash. His whole upper body and face is covered with red itchy bumps that make him look pitiful and send my mind lurching back 4 years. And while I know that he's not having an allergy, I am having to treat him with an antibiotic. That alone makes me stressed.

I'm a mother, and mother's worry. But some think that I worry too much, and I think they are right. But, this is just an insight into one of the reasons I always jump from bad to worse where my kids are concerned. You just never know. And I like to be in control, and in this case I cannot be.