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Joy
By Marie Craig
For 1.5 years I’ve had two autoimmune diseases that nobody has ever heard of, including my first doctor. As a result, I am taking Prednisone which is a miracle drug for reducing symptoms but has side effects like symptoms. So I’m basically battling three problems.
I decided to learn more about Prednisone and found a site that described what it actually does, plus a long list of side effects. One of them was “inappropriate happiness.” I laughed out loud when I read those two words. I thought happiness was always appropriate. I shared this with a friend who said, “Watch yourself at funerals.” That in turn brought to mind an old memory of a Mary Tyler Moore TV show long ago where she went to the funeral of Chuckles the Clown. It’s on YouTube (as everything is) so look for it if you want a good laugh.
I’m always ready for humor. Like the song from the movie Mary Poppins, “I Love to Laugh.” My dad was a tease as was his dad. We always enjoyed a harmless tease or prank. I can remember walking in the woods around our home as a little girl with my dad. After a rain, he would shake a tree so the raindrops would get me wet. I still enjoy watching YouTubes of dumb people falling down, as long as they don’t get hurt.
I recently ordered a new office chair. When it arrived in a small box, I realized there was Some Assembly Required. There were sixteen pieces (seat, back, 5 wheels, etc.) plus seventeen bolts. The directions were very clear, and with a little extra effort, I soon had it together. As I continued reading instructions, I found this sentence: “Do not stand on this chair.” More joy as I imagined some dumb dumb actually standing on a chair with wheels.
During COVID, I was amazed at the humor which was created by people. I started collecting cartoons, photos, and videos by people who refused to let the glum situation get them down. There were parodies of songs on YouTube: “For the Longest Time,” “The 12 Days of COVID,” and “Staying Alive.” I guess laughing helps you endure.
Life can be hard sometimes, but if you’ll try inappropriate happiness, maybe things will be easier.

Cut Them Down
By Julie Terry Cartner
Mitch and Sophie stood on their porch gazing across their yard. Spring was just around the corner, and daffodils lined the curve of their walkway. Further down the driveway, six Bradford pear trees dazzled their eyes as their blossoms shimmered against the frame of a sunlit blue sky.
“They’re beautiful,” Sophie sighed.
“Indeed,” Mitch replied, then added, “regardless…”
“I know. They have to go,” Sophie agreed. “We should have done it already, but we have to do it now, before any more pollen contaminates.”
“Right. I’ll get the chainsaw. You take your pictures. You’ll have the memories, if not the trees,” he smiled. “I know you. Take your pictures.”
“That you do.” Sophie took some pictures of the trees from the porch, then ran up the driveway to take some pictures of the house framed by the flower-filled branches. So beautiful, but so destructive, she thought. She sighed even as Mitch wrapped a comforting arm around her waist.
“They’re just trees,” he said.
“And yet, not,” was her reply, “and you know it. They’re living memories.” They’d planted the first two as the last truck of contractors pulled out of their driveway, the day they moved into their brand-new home. The next two were planted the day they came home from the hospital with Miriam, their first child, and the final two marked Liam’s birth.
“And now they will keep us warm next winter,” Mitch attempted to joke. “The trees will make excellent firewood, and we’ll research carefully to find the perfect replacements for them. We’ll plant them next fall, or in the spring at the latest.”
“If we’d only known then, we would never have planted them,” Sophie sighed.
“Hindsight,” Mitch nodded, as he pulled the chainsaw’s cord.
Thirty years ago, Bradford pear trees seemed to be the ideal ornamental tree. They supposedly didn’t make fruit, so there would be no mess to clean up, and they were believed to be sterile so they wouldn’t contaminate other species, making them environmentally safe. They were not native species, but they wouldn’t harm the native trees.
However, the information was incorrect. Today, they are considered an invasive species because they grow and spread quickly, and they can, in fact, cross pollinate with other pear trees. These two factors make them environmentally dangerous because they crowd out native trees which are necessary for both wildlife and pollinators.
Because Bradford pears have structurally weak branches and a short lifespan, usually living for less than 20 years, they are a poor replacement for hardier trees that may live for hundreds of years. And, as Bradford pears tend to decorate yards and the sides of roads, their weak branches are a danger to people, cars and pets, and the fallen branches can take down wires and block roadways.
As a result, many states have banned the sale of Bradford pears, and others, like North Carolina offer free native trees to homeowners who cut down their Bradford pears.
Flowering dogwoods, redbuds, magnolias, and crabapple trees, to name a few, are all excellent replacement trees for Bradford pears. They are each considered a native species, and they all have lovely blossoms. Please consider cutting down your Bradford pears before they can do any more harm to North Carolina’s environment.

Self-Preservation
By Gaye Hoots
Several of my recent articles were based on reading and researching internet articles on health, finances, and political matters. Focusing on these takes a toll, and I balance connecting with family and friends, attending church, and dining with others.
I recently spent time with the only first cousin from the Hoots family. We are the two oldest and the only surviving grandchildren of Jasper and Maude Hoots. Our views on politics, religion, and life in general are surprisingly similar and we surmise this is due to the time we spent living with our grandparents as children.
Gene’s parents moved to Baltimore to work in a munitions factory about the time my parents married. My parents, grandparents, and Gene, who was about 3 years old, initially lived in Yadkin County. They sold the farm in Yadkin and purchased the farm at the end of Burton Rd., now belonging to the Branch family.
Gene lived with them there until he was about 6 years old when the war ended, and his parents moved back to Clemmons. This was shortly before my birth, and I was lucky enough to live with them until I was 6 years old. Faye was born when I was 2 years old, and Phil was born before my 6th birthday. We moved to the Marchmont shortly after.
The time on the farm with my parents and grandparents seemed to have shaped our personalities and worldviews. Despite not having pursued education beyond high school themselves, our family members fostered our curiosity and strongly advocated for us to attain a college education. These adults worked on the farm seven days a week and taught a sense of responsibility for the animals, the crops, and the land.
My granddaughter remarked that I had a laid-back attitude unless it pertained to eating meals, feeding animals, or watering plants. This is the farm background and I feel a great responsibility for animals in our care and I will nurse a plant until it disintegrates.
The work ethic is reflected in Gene’s choosing to continue to work after retiring from a financial business he started it alone and grew it into a large institution before retiring and starting a smaller business project. I have been retired for many years and enjoy the slower pace, but I take on nursing care for family members at times.
I am presently planning activities with friends and family that I seldom see and visit with Tiffany and Mia in the evenings. Last night Janine Roberts, a friend from first grade, and I enjoyed a meal together, last week Lorene Markland, Gail Frye, and I had lunch and I have been enjoying the cake Gail gave me all week. I visited Judy Howard at Cadence and have plans with Larry Carter at Somerset. Larry’s sister, Travisine, had a fall and is unable to join us, and I am praying for her recovery. I have tentative plans with others and a call list of other friends to contact.
Stephanie, with our Renegade Writers Guild, has a write-in and lunch planned for Friday, and I am looking forward to reconnecting with them. I have missed them since moving to Oriental.
Stephannie’s influence and Marie’s compilation of my writing enabled me to get my book into print for which I am grateful.
I plan to connect with other cousins to give them a copy of my book and catch up on old times.
Five of my first cousins are in their 80s. Time is fleeting; therefore, I strive to make each day meaningful and derive enjoyment from it. My children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren keep me busy. Kendra and I celebrated her birthday at Chateau Morrisett in Virginia. It was a beautiful day for a drive, but I was surprised at the storm damage and trees down on the back roads.
Jaden and I will celebrate her birthday next week. It was hard to make plans with her school and work schedule, and it is difficult to grasp that I have a great-granddaughter who is 19 years old. Her sister, Mia, will be 1 year old in May and Jaden is a tremendous help with her. One grandson and his wife are in the military so my time with them is limited and time with the other grandson is elusive, but I get my girl time in spades.
Count and enjoy all your blessings and please say hello if you see me. Thanks!