WHEN DADDY FIXED BEN'S FIRST CELLO

This is Ben playing cello his grandfather fixed. Roy, his brother, playing violin.
I could have titled this: the three times Daddy got me out of messes I got into!! Here is Daddy.Thinking..... 
v


   I called Roy Caldwell, "Daddy." But Ben and the boys and his other grandchildren called him "Gramps." 


 Like a BIG baby I called for Daddy!! to help me out of  messes I got myself into.  For example I saw a steel washer in a drawer for the faucet. Looked like the washer in the picture.  I thought it would make a cute ring. I put it on my finger, then it would not come off!! No way. My finger began to swell around it. No one was home. I called up "DAD-DY....!!" I explained what had happened and he came straight away...with his soldering iron   and without burning me, he got that thing off. Thank you, Daddy!!


But this blog entry is about Ben's first cello...and his second one!!                


He and Roy took group music lessons under wonderful Noel Gilbert, a local celebrity. 
 Ben had a rental from school and Roy played the family fiddle.


One day when we got home from string class, I slid my seat back, forgetting the cello was right behind it. OH, MY!! Crunch. The front was left with a hole in it. As usual, I was so immature I was crying my eyes out...When Daddy returned it, you could not tell by looking at it that it had  been damaged.


 A few years later, we  bought Ben a very nice cello;  it stood at the end of the piano, leaning against it. You guessed it!! I managed to break that one also.  I was vacuuming  the living room and backed up and knocked the cello over and broke its neck.

Again Daddy repaired it perfectly; and I never broke an instrument again &  never put a washer on my finger either!!


 I won't soon forget how Daddy got me out of a mess several times. Thank you, Daddy.


Here is a picture of Daddy far left with his bass... in church band.

Here is Ben, Jr. six years before he got his first cello.

This FADED PHOTO shows Ben, Jr. playing the cello with his brother, Roy on one side and his dad on the other.
v
                               ~~~~~~~~
This was another precious memory from a widow. Love, annie
*****************************************

THE FIND by WILLIAM BENJAMIN BREWER

                                                                
                       
                              THE FIND


He dug a dig and found a skull
And cracked it open like a gourd.
A song from deep within that boney bowel
Not for eons sung escaped
And filled with beauty all the air.

He set aside his trowel,
Took the tune to heart
And sang it lest it go away.
Sang it far and sang it wide
And sang it all his day.
Humans here and humans there
Heard and came this man to see
And thought him sure of genius the progeny.
Only he knew where genius lay.
                    
                   ``````````````````
I love this light hearted poem that my husband wrote. I only found it a few days ago and now I share with you. Love, annie in memphis
 *******************************************                    

SYCAMORE SONNET by WILLIAM BENJAMIN BREWER

                                                    
So many have already read this poem; I am so pleased. Today his granddaughter, Anna  Rose Brewer, said she especially loves it, because Ben compared  her to a Sycamore tree. He always called her "the rose!"

                  SYCAMORE SONNET
                                                   


                    SYCAMORE SONNET

Sycamore stands tall within the wood
And fetches focus as we turn our eye
In hope of finding cause to lift our mood
From common place as we go passing by.

So stately there inside the scruff her presence,
Upright, clean, eschewing to partake
Of gnarly bark as hue of lesser essence
Sycamore lives life for ideal's sake:

Rejecting nature's notion of a tree.
To all her kind she rises tall to say
With her unfailing great humility
That all can join pursuit of higher way.

Sycamore breathes freshness into air,
Inspiring us each time we see her there.
                          
                                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I knew that my husband's favorite tree was the Sycamore; but I only found this sonnet two days ago. Now I share it with you. 
love, annie in memphis

THE SORROW PATCH by WILLIAM BENJAMIN BREWER

                                 



                                              THE SORROW PATCH


That sorrow patch out by the gate
Never needs a watering,
Though true, a midnight rain can help.
My patch's product exiles sleep
And then I seek retreat in former beds
In night times long before the seeds were sown,
I did not know the patch's product then,
When nightly nod was doorway to a dream.
Fleeing now though, from sorrows of my patch,
I have to lay my head on pillows of past time
To see again the sights around me there
Only so does sleep slip 'round my patch
While I smell cool adobe,
Lie upon an army cot
Or sleep with Dude in childhood chamber,
Years ago
So long before my gate side patch was sown.
                         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~
                               
I am pleased to submit some of my husband's poems I found in a loose leaf notebook only a week or so ago. I had never seen them
before, but I am delighted that he left them. I want to share them with you. With love, annie
old7lady9blogger80@gmail.com
*****************************************************************************************

PROCRASTINATION by WILLIAM BENJAMIN BREWER 1933-2012

You might well ask why I would begin this blog entry with a Picasso painting when my own husband was such a gifted artist. Well, he didn't paint anything that would describe procrastination at all...and this girl asleep at a table does!! Sort of like the way I have been...still numb, still sort of asleep after Ben's death.


I was going through the simple note book of my husband's pen written poems, and I found this one speaking to me,  PROCRASTINATION!!  It was exactly what I needed to read. Yesterday was the first time I had seen the poem; today I am sharing it with you.
 As a widow I find myself wanting to put things off..one more week, one more day..when I shouldn't dilly dally but proceed. Thank you sweet Ben.


                     PROCRASTINATION
It often seems
That neither one will do:
There's six in one, etcetera,
So at this time
I'll just do neither
Put decision off.
      But NO!
Doing nothing
Just for now
Can make or break a man.
Every moment requires option,
Is a choice per force;
Nothing is but has its counter!
       Procrastination is election,
Leads one to tomorrow
With all options taken.
                  *********
I am publishing this especially for his progeny:
Ben, Roy, Anna, Lydia, William, Eva and Demi and of course "I needed that!" more than anyone.


Thank you sweet Ben.   








                         

WHEN DADDY GOT ME MY FIRST AND ONLY BICYCLE

If there was ever a more wonderful neighborhood anywhere than ours, please tell me about it. Ah, Decatur St.  I remember you with love. 
                             our house
 Gordon school down the street.




                   As I look back I think of a Don Quixote expression: 
"Impoverished nobility." In those days I thought we all were surely in the upper class, just had no money.


Anyway one girl who lived near me owned a bicycle all the kids loved.    It was small, pink and  adorable. I learned to ride on her bike as did several other kids.  She obviously was a very generous friend. I pined for a bike of my very own. AT LAST..one day.


Daddy & I walked a block or so to a store on  Jackson Ave, which sold bikes along with other things like hardware type stuff.  It was next door to our drug store and a few doors away from Rialto Picture Show.


It had about 5 bikes for sale. Daddy offered to buy me  one which was one speed, black, the largest size you can buy and a boy's bike to boot. There was a bar between the seat and the handle bar.


 I completely forgot it was nothing like what I wanted. This eleven year old girl HAD TO HAVE IT!! We walked it along with us as we went home. What joy!


I never got to sit on the seat like the girl in the picture. I was too short!! 


I chose this pic because the girl is not wearing a helmet!! None of us did 68 years ago. 


So I would ride until I got tired  and then coast leaning against the seat. It was  perfect!!! 
 Exhilarating!!


I don't ever think I felt such freedom before or since then. My childhood Memphis in the forties was such a safe place. I would take off on my bike alone, deliberately alone,  and be gone for a couple of hours. Just riding and looking and thinking. In those days only children rode bikes unless you had a paper route. Now, obviously,  all ages ride bikes!!


By the time I started 7th grade at Humes, (7th thru 12th)
I had ridden it about 800 times...then that was it!! Never rode again. But some of the happiest times of my childhood were on that big, black, boy's bike. Thanks, Daddy!!


Actually as for the "impoverished nobility,'' I think we were a LITTLE like nobility but not all that impoverished!! I was a rich kid. Had a piano, bicycle, porch swing, backyard swing, tall tree to climb  and sit in...not to mention a wonderful family, church, and friends...rich kid indeed!!

Here is an old favorite hymn: 
PRECIOUS MEMORIES
Love, annie 
old7lady9blogger80@gmail.com

**************************************

























































































































































































































































































































































































































 

WHEN DADDY OPERATED ON A CHICKEN!! A HAPPY MEMORY

       
Perhaps I was 9 years old. The older of my two little brothers (4)  ran into the house....


"A varmit must have got a holt of one of our chickens, it is torn and .... has maggots and everything!!"This was William Leroy Caldwell, my little brother who died December 22, 2012


During WWII lots of people raised chickens in their backyards to help with food supply. We had some. We ate wonderful fried chicken without any regrets. 


Yet here was a chicken SUFFERING...that made all the difference!! We children were crying!
            facsimiles


A little ways from our backdoor was a so called garage. A car was NEVER in it!  It looked more like a barn with two doors. A lot like this picture except the roof was flat. I remember that in particular, because I climbed on to the roof so I could pull up on a limb of a huge tree. Then I would climb as high as I could and then just sit there awhile and"think!"

Getting back to the surgery story. 
We called, "DADDY!!  Help!"  


Daddy came into the back yard, picked up the chicken and took him into the garage/barn, where Daddy kept all his stuff; he had so many tools.


 It was dark in there. One table sat in the center with a big light bulb on a long cord hanging over it.


 Daddy put the chicken on the table. He cleaned out the wound with some sort of purple medicine. Then Mother supplied a needle and thread and Daddy sewed it up. We kids stood at the door and watched in amazement!! In only a few days the chicken seemed to be well. I guess it died of old age. We didn't eat it, for sure!! A happy memory.

Here is picture of Daddy with his bass; he played in a church band. BETHEL ASSEMBLY Memphis.
 Daddy with his stand up bass.


     

Here is an old hymn I love a lot.

PRECIOUS MEMORIES

 

old7lady9blogger80@gmail.com

(This 2 yr old pic may be ugly, but it looks better than I do, so I'm using it!!!!So there!!)

All for now!!! Love from annie. ****************************************