OUR WONDERFUL WORLD OF COLOR

By Olivene Godfrey

Most of us seem to have a sense of well-being in spring and summer months. This is probably due largely to the warmer weather.

But, I think perhaps the abundance of color in our world plays a big role in creating this state of euphoria. Color surrounds us everywhere, especially in the spring and summer in our part of the country. We see it in the sky, in the sea, in rocks and in all plants and animals. And here in northwest Georgia our world seems to be predominantly blue, green and red (in Georgia clay).

Color adds beauty to our clothing and food. And it makes our homes, schools and offices attractive. We admire color in paintings, photographs, books, magazines and movies and televisions.

We use the names of colors in our speech. We "see” red when we lose our temper. Or, we turn "green with envy" at someone else's luck. If we are feeling sad, we may say we are feeling blue. A coward is known as "yellow" and a special day is called a "red letter" day.

Everywhere we look we see color. And wouldn't it be dull without it? We see green grass, a red apple, and a beach as yellow-brown.
We take colors for granted. We can't even prove they exist. I have read that many animals can't see color. We all know that our eyes see color when light strikes them.

To understand color, one has to know that sunlight is made of many colors. A rainbow shows the colors in sunlight. Tiny drops of water in the air cause a rainbow by breaking up sunlight into the colors it is made of. Most artificial light is much like sunlight.

Scientists know that these colors of the rainbow can be combined again to form white light. White is a mixture of all the colors in the rainbow. Black is no color at all. The letters on this page are black because the black ink absorbs all the colors that strike it. The letters wouldn't show if the paper around them didn't reflect light to our eyes. Make a disk of the rainbow colors. Whirl it around very fast so the separate colors don't show. The eye puts them all together and the disk looks white.

An artist can paint a sunset by starting with only three colors, red, yellow and blue. He or she can mix these colors together to make other colors. My son, who is interested in such things, long ago tried to explain "color in light" to me. He talked about how light travels in waves, just like radio signals and X-rays do. And scientists can measure the length of these waves. But, it’s all Greek to me.

REMEMBERING CARS OF MY PAST....

By Olivene Godfrey

A few days ago, my son, Barry , and I were talking about the long ago time when my late husband, Ralph, tried to teach me to drive a straight shift car. Barry suggested that I write a column about it and he sparked an idea to write of my memories of all the cars that have been a part of my life.

It all began in the early 1930s when my daddy bought a brand new Ford. He must have had a windfall as we were all dressed in new clothes when we took our first ride in the new car. I remember that I wore a short, white flannel pleated skirt and white sweater and I was as excited about the new clothes as I was about he car.

Next, the scene shifts to a few years later when we had moved to a house in the country in East Tennessee. The house had a concrete driveway which my mother used to learn to drive a car. I don't remember what kind of car we had then but Mother had grown up riding in horse drawn carriages and she must have thought the automobile was like a magic carpet. One day, she loaded all us kids in the car and we went exploring down a dirt road. It had come a downpour of rain a few days earlier and we came to a point in the road which had eroded, leaving a pretty big ditch. That didn't deter my feisty mother. She simply backed the car up in the road so she could hit the gas pedal and get a running start on a jump over the ditch. Incredibly, she almost made it, too, but the back wheels were lodged in the mud. I don't remember how we got out of that situation but it didn't stop Mother from driving into her 80s. She died at the age of 92 in 2,000, still a feisty lady to the end.

Next, shortly after World War 11 ended, Daddy bought a used Packard which we loved. I was about 17 and thought I should be driving. We didn't own a car the last couple of years of the war so I hadn't had a chance to learn to drive. One Sunday, Daddy let me drive on a highway near our home. I thought I was doing fairly well on my maiden trip with the straight shift. But, the next thing I knew, I was pulled over by a law officer. He asked to see my driving license and when he learned I didn't have one, he said he wouldn't give me a ticket if I passed the drivers license exam the next week. Amazingly, I passed the test and got the license which was much easier then to acquire one these days.

I had a drivers license but I was almost completely ignorant about driving a car. One night, my parents let me take the car out with my sisters in tow to ride around town. They were normally very strict parents and we all had early curfews if we went out on dates with boys. I don't know why they were so lenient about letting me drive. I scared my sisters half to death that night when I went the wrong way down a one way traffic street. They screamed and carried on and made me nervous so I drove home someway.

Sometimes my sisters and I talk about how fearless and daring I was in those days. I went to an airport one day with a friend and I went up in a small open plane while the pilot performed stunts, scaring me but I also was excited by the flight. And when I was a kid and we went to fairs, I loved to ride the Ferris wheel, etxc.... But I digress.

When I met my late husband, Ralph, he had just come home from the Pacific where he had served in the Army during the war. I didn't drive anymore until after we married. Ralph tried to teach me to drive and we ended up with him yelling at me and me getting nervous. Finally, he bought an Oldsmobile with an automatic transmission which I could easily drive and began my long period of driving. In 1957, we bought a 1957 Chevy which was destined to become a classic. Later, we bought a ,68 Chevelle which I drove and taught Barry how to drive in it. He later drove it to high school. When Barry bought his first car, Ralph took over the Chevelle and restored it. Next, he restored an old Cadillac. He sold all three of the cars for a mere pittance which was the story of our lives. BY that time, Ralph built a hot rod which he took to shows and sold for a little more than the other cars. He restored a 74 Chevrolet truck which was the last vehicle he worked on and is admired by truck enthusiast who see it. It belongs to Barry now and he tells all who ask that it isn't for sale. He often drives the truck to work.

I am at a point in my life when I only want things to be calm and serene and don't want any excitement in my driving. I drive a car that is dependable and quiet and that is why I like it.
I choose the times and routes that I drive in order to avoid heavy traffic. I think I will know when it is time for me to stop driving and I know that will be a sad day for me.

WASHING AND DRYING CLOTHES EASIER IN MODERN TIMES

By Olivene Godfrey

For thousands of years the washing of clothes and linens was one of the most tiresome of household chores. IN early times women often washed clothes on smooth stones at the edge of running streams. Later, women used washboards to wash laundry in streams.

The washing machine of 1770, was a simple hand operated plunger.
The first electrical machine came out in the early 1900s and great improvements on it have resulted in today's completely automatic washer.

The advent of the automatic brought about end to the Blue Monday 's wash day for many women. Most of the women I know wash laundry almost everyday as I do. My late husband used to insisted that I had a phobia about washing laundry. He would accuse me of following him, and our son, around, just waiting for them to discard a garment so I could throw it into the washing machine.

I have to admit that anytime I see wearing apparel, lying on the floor, on furniture etc..., I do snatch up the garments and toss them in the washer. It may be true that I have a complex about washing clothes. A friend once remarked that my family was either the cleanest or the dirtiest one she had ever heard of considering the amount of time my washing machine is in operation.

As marvelous as the automatic washing machine is, I think the automatic clothes dryer ties with the air-conditioner as my favorite of modern appliances. One of the most aggravating chores for me was hanging laundry on a clothes line. The sun could be shining gloriously when I would hang my clothes out to dry and fifteen minutes later rain or snow would be falling. And in bad winter weather I was constantly struggling with wet laundry.

From the day I heard of the invention of the automatic clothes dryer I started a campaign to acquire one of those wonderful machines. For years, I brought the words, " clothes dryer" into as many conversations as I possibly could with my husband. And finally, years ago, that dream came true. And I have been washing and drying laundry like mad ever since, come rain, shine, sleet or snow.

By Olivene Godfrey.

From time to time folks who know me well will ask, " Why do you insist on dramatizing everything? Why can't you tell anyone anything without building up the suspense for 15 minutes?"

And now that I am older, I will sometimes be telling a long tale to someone and will build up to the climax and my mind will suddenly go blank? Talk about embarrassing!

I guess this trait is emphasized because of my manner of speaking. Example: Along about bedtime, I used to exclaim in the tone of voice reserved for emergencies to my late husband, " Oh, my goodness! Oh, me! Oh my! Do you know what I did?"
Now you would think over the years he would have wised up but he would look alarmed and ask, "What is wrong?"" And a typical answer would be that, "I forgot to call Suzy and I promised her I would be sure to call tonight." My husband would look disgusted and return to his book or TV viewing, muttering under his breath.

There is a woman in our town whom I have admired since the day when she called me when my son was a student, " Will you bake a cake for the P-T-A Harvest Dinner?" I said I would bake a cake and the woman thanked me and hung up the phone. I couldn't have done that in a hundred years.

Whenever I have been asked to call a dozen women it requires at least a week to complete the calls. I can't resist asking a question that doesn't pertain to the purpose of my call and we talk and talk. And before I explain the purpose of the call I am driven by a need to explain in great detail the importance of the project, etc....

Actually, I can't believe my telephone conversations are a waste of time. Some of my best writing ideas have developed from a remark or comment made during a telephone conversation.

Back to the background leading up to the climax of a tale. My impatient son will often interrupt me with, " Get to the point."
At this stage in my life, I am not likely to change though.

REMEMBERING NAMES....

By OLIVENE GODFREY

I once knew a woman who, upon entering a room of strangers, pleasantly and forthrightly introducing herself. And I observed
the reaction she received from the people at these gatherings.
They were drawn to her and generously responded in the same manner.

I suppose all of us could be taught to listen more attentively
to introductions. Each and everyone of us enjoys hearing our name spoken. And to practice using the new name as soon as possible helps us to remember the name and makes the new acquaintance happy.

I confess I am the last person on earth who should give advice on remembering names. My only excuse when I was younger was that the failing was because of my childhood existence. My family moved around a lot and while I kept memories of a few special people after awhile I stopped trying to remember anything about the place where I had last moved from.

Now that I am older I just blame my poor memory on my old age. This failure to remember names, even faces sometimes, has caused me much embarrassment over the years. A number of years ago while shopping in Chattanooga, TN I was approached by a woman whom I could not remember ever having seen before.” Olivene, " she exclaimed, "It's so good to see you. I haven't seen you in years." I'm sure I looked bewildered as I was bewildered. Who?
Who? Frantically I wracked my brain trying to recall the woman's face and name. Finally, she said, " You do remember me, don't you?" Foolishly, I said I did. I realize now I should have confessed my loss of memory. Then she reminded me of several school functions we had attended together as students of a
Chattanooga school.

I was going crazy all the way home trying to remember who that woman was. About a week later, as I was drifting off to sleep, I suddenly remembered who my mystery woman was. Now in my defense, it had been many years since I had seen the woman and her appearance had changed from a slip of a girl to a rather heavy set woman with gray hair. Still, as I recalled my memories of her as a classmate I could see the resemblance in her face of the woman I'd chatted with a few days before.

I guess everyone has such experiences. But, I doubt that everyone forgets the names of people whom they know well and see often as I frequently do and it is embarrassing when my mind goes blank when I start to introduce such people to another person.
I hope my friends are understanding and forgive me at such times.

LISTENING IS AN ART
By Olivene Godfrey

I enjoyed a recent T.V. interview with Clint Eastwood. Since he has a keen sense of humor, the interview was not only interesting but entertaining. The actor/director spoke seriously about the art and importance of listening. My ears perked up at that subject as that subject had sparked an idea for this column when my son failed to listen to something I was saying to him one recent day. Over the years, I have written several times on the importance of improving listening among all of us.

Wilson Mizner said, "A good listener is not only popular everywhere but after a while he knows something."
And it's true there is an art to listening. It's not easy to do since we think four times faster than we talk.

Listening improves a relationship because it reduces the chance of misunderstanding. Parents need to listen to children because it contributes to the child's sense of self=esteem and self-worth and he sees himself as someone worth listening to.

Someone said if people don't listen, and listening is the other half of talking, why talk? Many problems are solved, friendships made, and marriages saved, by patient and lively listening.

I've read that President Lyndon Johnson had a sign in his office which read: "You ain't learnin'when you're talkin". And, the good listener recognizes that to understand accurately he must hear clearly and must listen with care.

Close listening gives us an opportunity to see and hear and think about what's going on. In those fleeting moments when we really listen we find out what other people are like and how they feel and how they react.

If we become more appreciative listeners, we will inspire others to become more effective talkers. When we encourage others to express themselves, their satisfaction is reflected back to us, and we become better speakers.

If the speaker doesn't hold our attention, our mind wanders and we lose the trend of what is being said. Then, it becomes a chore to pick up where we left off. We may show we aren't listening by a blank look or even by a put-on expression which may cover us socially but doesn't help with good relations.

GOOD MANNERS IS BEING KIND TO OTHERS.

Our old friend, Anonymous, has said, "The test of good manners is being able to put up pleasantly with bad ones." And, Christopher Morley said, "Happiness is the best teacher of good manners; only the unhappy are churlish."

Amy Vanderbilt, an authority on etiquette, believe that knowledge of the rules of living in our society makes us more comfortable even though our particular circumstances may permit us to elide them somewhat.

Whenever I encounter rude persons, I recall Miss Vanderbilt’s words: "Only a great fool or a great genius is likely to flout all social graces, with impunity, and neither one, doing so, makes the most comfortable companion."

Chances are common sense and consideration for others will get you through any complicated social situation you are likely to have. And it seems to me that one's personality is reflected in his manners. A person can be unbearably rude while being technically correct.

Whenever I think of good manners, I remember the beautiful old fashioned manners of my late husband, Ralph. The women health workers who helped take care of him when he was so ill were charmed by his manners, such as his habit of calling all females regardless of their ages, "Ma'am" and saying please and thank you often.

And as Emerson said, " Life is not so short but that there is always time enough for courtesy."