Snail Mail

You know how sometimes when you think of certain people a memory comes to mind that is so clear and precise that you can almost reach out and touch them?  That happened to me yesterday. I was thinking about my grandmother and how she was the family ‘coordinator’ (for lack of a better word). She was an only child but grew up with lots of cousins and married into a big family. The matriarch of our family, she stayed in touch with everyone and passed along information from one branch of the family to another. Between the telephone and her kitchen table, she kept us all up on what was happening with everyone. She kept cards, stationery, and stamps right there at hand on her table and wrote notes almost every morning, passing along news and letting us know she was thinking about us. Her stamps were on a roll in a little wooden mailbox that a friend had made for her. Yesterday morning, I had the sharpest picture of her in my mind sitting at that table and writing a letter, the sunlight filtering through that big ole oak tree on her patio and coming through the window onto her.  I soooo wish I had a photo of her sitting there or was artistically talented enough to draw that picture I had in my mind.  Just some good memories there. 

She was born in the time before telephones were commonplace and letters were still the main way of communicating with others. Writing was a habit she developed early in her life. However, when telephones did become common place, she utilized it, regularly calling and receiving calls from family and friends all over the country. She never talked long because, at that time, those calls were long distance and cost more but family and staying in touch with them was important. Back then you paid per minute to talk on the phone, unlike today when you can talk two minutes or two hundred for the same cost.

Anyway, she would get the news from my great uncle’s family in California and pass it along to my great uncle’s family in Oklahoma when she talked to them a little later that day. Or, more often, unless it was time sensitive, she would relay it by letter within the next few days. Of course, it would take a week or so for the letter to arrive and essentially be old news by then, certainly by today’s standards. No one minded, though, because that’s just how it was. Important or big news such as a death in the family or the birth of a child would certainly be shared by telephone, but details and things such as an engagement or pregnancy might be revealed by mail.

Her address book was kept up to date continuously and if you needed an address for anyone, she was the one you asked. They were all written in pen and when it changed, she would mark through it and make a new entry. She remembered birthdays, anniversaries, doctors appointments, and pretty much any big event because she wrote it all down in a big calendar (we’d call it a planner today) she kept on that kitchen table with her letter writing supplies. Now, we have all of that info at our fingertips in a phone the size of one of the envelopes she would mail a card in back then.

She loved getting mail as much as she enjoyed sending it. Just like a kid, her eyes would light up when she spotted a hand addressed envelope and a fun stamp in her mailbox. While she usually used the flag stamps that came in a roll, she would also occasionally buy a sheet of fun stamps to use on her letters because it made them fun. I loved getting mail from her with unusual stamps on the envelope. She loved stationery and pretty note cards but would just as easily write you a note on a piece of notebook paper if that’s what was handy. One thing that I never realized until I started thinking about this today is that she didn’t care that her stuff was out on the table and not put away out of sight. She wanted it accessible so it was easier for her to write every day. It was right there where she ate all of her meals within easy reach and she made it a habit that she didn’t give up until she had to because she couldn’t write anymore. She was a smart woman and knew how to get things done!

With the technology that we have today where we can send a text or an email and get a reply in a matter of seconds, letter writing is fast becoming a lost art. My cousin said something on Facebook the other day about missing writing and receiving letters. (I’m sure he was the recipient of many a letter from my grandmother, too!) It motivated me to sit down and write him a letter…granted, it was typed on my computer but it was a letter. That I put in an envelope and mailed. With a fun stamp. I enjoyed it and think I’ll do it again soon! I also think I’ll find me a basket and put my letter writing supplies in it and find a place to put it where it will be handy for when I have a few minutes to jot a note to someone. I may even pull out my old fashioned address book and update it!

Letters are visits when friends are apart.

C’Mon Get Happy

I don’t know about you, but I’m soooo tired of politics and Covid and just plain negativity. I miss the days of my social media newsfeed being full of kids and puppies, vacations and gardens, and even what people were eating! Back in 2014 and 2017, I did a challenge called 100 Happy Days. It’s a challenge to find something every day for 100 days that makes you happy and document it however you’d like. It can be something as simple as your morning cup of coffee or as big as the birth of a grandchild. Whatever makes you smile, feel a little spurt of joy, or the giddiness of happiness. Snap a picture of it (or something that represents it) and post it somewhere….Instagram, Facebook, Snapchat, Twitter…your social media of choice….and use a hashtag to identify it as part of the challenge. It was a great exercise in looking for the positive and being more aware of attitude and the little things. I made a little video of my 2014 photos back then and tonight, when I looked at, it brought back some great memories! Even though the photos don’t have the captions on them, I knew exactly what it was about each of them that made me happy then.

So many people struggled to find good in 2020 and I really, really wish I had done this challenge again last year to remind me that there was some good things throughout the year. We are in a new year that seems to be continuing along in the same way as last year so I am going to do this challenge again starting tomorrow. One hundred days will take me through the end of April. We can all use a little more happy in our lives these days and I’m going to do my part to try to spread a little of it around. I am going to use the hashtag #100happydays2021. I would like to invite all of my friends to join in. Or don’t if it’s not your thing. I think it could be a fun thing to do and look forward to every day…just one happy thing a day. The ‘rules’ are easy. Take a picture of something every day and post it on your choice of social media using the hashtag. (If you’d rather not share it, that’s okay!)  Just write it down. Keep a journal. Make a scrapbook. However you want to do it.  But, look for the happy every day and document it for 100 days.  Miss a day? That’s okay. Just pick it up the next day. It’s not a competition or anything. It’s just a way to try to brighten the days a little bit for all of us. I’ll be posting something every day on IG and FB and a ‘review post’ here every week. C’mon, let’s get HAPPY!!

There are so many beautiful reasons to be happy. Sarah Prout

Choosing JOY in 2021

For the last several years, I have chosen a Word of the Year. It’s a word that you focus on all year long, using it to help guide you, to make changes or, in some way, improve you physically, spiritually, or mentally. It’s an intentional effort to make it a part of your daily life. 

Last year’s word was GATHER. Here’s last year’s post about it. I feel like God must have snickered when I chose it knowing what was to come in 2020! I may not have gathered in the way I thought I would when the year began, but because of the way the year unfolded, GATHER became a really important word for us all. Despite all of the restrictions and challenges, I managed to gather with friends, neighbors, and family more than I thought I would. I was able to really work on getting out more and being more social, even if it was via Zoom! I gathered my thoughts much more often and actually put them on paper. I gathered memories in the form of photos and stories. But, most of all, I learned to treasure the ability to gather and being together with others more than I ever have. So, although, at first glance, it was a bummer of a word for the year, it was actually a blessing instead. 

My word this year is JOY. I didn’t really choose it; it chose me. Some years I really struggle with what word to choose, but this year, this one hit me full in the face. About a month ago when I started thinking and praying about what word I wanted to choose, joy, joyful, and joyous kept popping up all.over.the.place. I mean seriously, EVERYWHERE, and multiple times a day. I was still toying with several words and then I got asked to write something about joy for our advent devotions at church. I knew then it was no longer a choice.

What is joy? That’s a good question and one I’ll ponder often in the coming year. Some would say it’s the same as happiness, but I disagree. I think you can be joyful without being happy. In fact, I think you can be very sad and still be joyful. Joy is something that is deep inside and only rises to the surface when we have the Holy Spirit within us. Happiness is contingent on circumstance, but joy… Joy is an emotion that we can tap into intentionally in all circumstances. I want to be able to find that joy-true, deep, soul abiding joy-in everything, most especially in the hard, tough times and think it can only be found in our relationship with God. Sort of like the peace that surpasses all understanding. 

 I have never really documented or journaled about my words of the year other than maybe a note in my journal or a blog post about what it’s going to be but this year I’m going to try to be more diligent about noticing it and recording in some way how I’m finding joy throughout the year; probably my journal, maybe in my scrapbook, possibly here. I bought the sign in the picture it sits on my kitchen island so I’ll see it off and on every day. I also wrote it on an index card and put on my bathroom mirror and on the first page of my 2021 journal. I want it in my face multiple times a day to remind me to look for JOY in all things. 

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope” (Romans 15:13)

Goodbye 2020, Hello 2021!

The end of 2020 is in sight. Just a few more hours and the calendar will read January 2021. I keep hearing everyone talking about how they cannot wait for 2020 to be over. That it’s been a terrible year, good riddance to it, and so on. I get it. I’m looking forward to 2021 myself! It has been a terribly hard year for a lot of people and I know, that for some, it’s been a year that has drastically changed lives forever.  Jobs were lost, loved ones passed away, our lives were turned upside down…Covid and the restrictions it brought, wildfires, hurricanes, and floods…. It’s easy to recount the bad things that happened to us all. It’s always easier to dwell on the negative than the positive for some reason. 

It’s very hard to find good in the middle of despair or joy in the midst of grief and so many of you have had to try to do that this year. I’m not discounting or diminishing anything that anyone has dealt with this year.  I’ve cried tears with you and my heart hurts for you when I think about what some of you have been been through. But, when I look back over the our year and then some of the things I’ve seen friends and family post and share, there’s been some good things happen in 2020, too. Babies were born, people met and fell in love, some got married, birthdays were celebrated, kids graduated, people beat cancer, and communities came together and helped each other.  Granted, some of those things were celebrated a little differently but they happened. And they were all good.  We all grew in ways we never dreamed we could; we did things we never thought we’d have to much less be able to do…remote learning? Work from home? That would never happen! But, we did those things and more.  Anyone reading this is still here and that’s a good thing. We found ways to teach and learn and communicate and love on each other that we would never have known if it weren’t for the constraints of 2020. So, this year wasn’t ALL bad!

I know a lot of us don’t want to carry anything from this year into next year but some things are worth carrying over.  One of the things I hear when I hear people talking about moving on from 2020 and into 2021? HOPE. I hear hope. Hope for a better year, a better life, a better future. Another thing I hear is THANKFULNESS. Thankfulness for making it through this year. Thankfulness that we can go into a new year with a better appreciation for the things and people in our lives. A thankfulness that we are able to move forward and not be stuck in 2020 forever.  

When that calendar changes from 2020 to 2021 at midnight tonight, things aren’t going to magically go back to the way they were ten months ago.  Oh, how I wish it could, but that’s not how it works; we all know that. Time marches on just as it has always has. When you think about it, this New Year’s won’t really be that much different than others in the past. We’ll be entering a new year with hope for a better year, anticipation of good things to happen, thankfulness for the opportunities, and determination and motivation to not let it be like last year. That may be the biggest difference…determination to not let next year be like this year.  That, and we’ll be a LOT happier to welcome next year than we have been in years past.  

Let’s take that hope, thankfulness, and determination into 2021 and make it a great year. Throw in some love and kindness while we’re at it. Happy New Year to all of my friends and family.  You are one of life’s greatest blessings and I’m looking forward to sharing this next year with you all! 

Hurricane Sally

A week ago tonight, we were glued to the television watching the updates on a slowly approaching storm named Hurricane Sally. She had been slowly wandering our way for a few days and was finally getting ready to come ashore.  We were listening to the wind howling and the rain pelting everything as hard as it could. It was all so loud.  Every once in a while, the house would shake when a particularly strong gust of wind would hit it. The trees outside were bending and bowing with the wind, shedding leaves and limbs as they did. The small branches with acorns attached sounded like popcorn on my roof as they flew through the air and landed, sliding down or blowing away to cover the ground. As the eye of Sally came closer and closer to land, we lost power and the wind became stronger.  A loud thud sounded and as we looked out of the window with the flashlight, we could see the large branch from one of our oaks laying on the deck. It was swaying back and forth ready to become a projectile into our door at any moment. The wind sounded like very, very, loud, angry waves breaking onshore. Another big thud that we not only heard but felt as the house took the impact. Another look out the window and there was my favorite oak resting across the corner of my deck. Thankfully, it missed the house! 

Sally was about to make landfall about ten miles or so west of us. That wind…oh, my goodness, I’ve never heard wind like that. Finally, after hours of howling, it started to die down and eventually stopped. The silence was deafening at first.  

Neighbors started coming out to check on the damage and each other. The sound of the wind was quickly replaced with the sound of chainsaws and generators. No one worked clearing and cleaning alone. We all pitched together and helped each other clean up the mess Sally left behind. Food and water, gas and tools,  time and manpower…it was all shared freely and without any expectation of something in return. 

We had no power, internet, or even decent cell service at first.  Texting worked best in those first few days. At least we could communicate with family to let them know we were okay. Those utility trucks showing up on Friday was the most beautiful sight in the world. Those guys worked hard, long hours to get our power back on. It was five days after the storm when the lights came back on to stay and we were so happy. 

I have to say that I have never been a part of a natural disaster. It is so humbling.  And heart wrenching. I’ve been told that at times like this the best and worst of people surface. We’ve seen nothing but the best.  People have been kind, and generous, and giving. We’ve had some gawkers and although it is irritating, I understand it.  But for the most part, we’ve seen mostly helpful, kind people. One group brought us bottles of water and the makings for PB and J. Another group stopped and helped cut up some of the trees. Yet another dropped off a cooler full of drinks, fruit, and ice. Even today, a week later, a lady from a relief agency rang my doorbell and handed me dinner. 

A week later, the water has receded, leaving a mess behind. The power is back on, the boil water order has been lifted, the yard is cleaned up, the tree is gone, and life is slowly returning to somewhat normal.  The debris is piled high along the side of every road. The trees and limbs are bad enough, but it’s heartbreaking to see whole households sitting there. These are people’s memories, their possessions that filled their houses and made it their home. It goes on for miles.  And yet, people are thankful. And hopeful. This is just stuff. They will rebuild, make new memories, and life will go on.  

Sally may have knocked us all down for a while, but she didn’t knock us out.  What she did was bring us all together. Neighbors helped neighbors, strangers helped strangers, and people from all over have come to lend a helping hand. And none of on either side of the equation has asked or cared about what color our skin is, which religion we are, political party we belong to, or football team we cheer for.  All that mattered is that we are fellow human beings and needed help. This is how is should be every day, all day long. 

“…Love thy neighbor as thyself.” Matthew 22:29 

I Remember…

FDNY Memorial Wall, New York City, 2013

Today the news, radio and tv, and my social media is full of images from 9/11/2001 with the phrases “Never Forget” or “We’ll Never Forget”. It is hard to believe that it’s been nineteen years since that day. Anyone that is over about 23 or 24 years of age remembers it very well. It changed our lives and the world we live in forever. Like everyone else, I know exactly where I was and what I was doing when that first plane hit the World Trade Center. I remember the horror of those images in real time and the feeling of wanting to gather my family close and keep them there. I remember the uncertainty of that day and the next several as we all wondered who, why, and where they would hit next. I remember the stories of incredible bravery and heroism that trickled through the relentless news coverage that day and over the next several days, weeks, months, and even years. I remember the love for each other and this country that swelled and poured out of our hearts, minds, and actions. I remember first responders running toward the chaos not caring about their safety, but only concerned with trying to save the people trapped and injured. I remember doctors and nurses racing to the closest hospital to them and treating the injured for hours and days without a break. I remember seeing people running for safety, their entire bodies covered in the dust and detritus of the falling towers. And when one fell, two, three, four would stop and help them up. Strangers helping strangers. I remember the tears that fell and the grief and anger that gripped us, a nation together. I remember hugging my children a little longer and harder that night as I put them to bed. I remember the pride of country and fellow man as we came together in crisis and stood as one.  Like most Americans, I will never forget that day and the time afterward. We were a nation that was horrified, grieving, scared, and uncertain; yet we were united. And no one cared what religion, race, or political affiliation anyone else was. It didn’t matter. We were Americans, period. Americans bound together by an unimaginable tragedy. 

As horrific and life changing as that day was, it brought out the best in us. I miss the country we were immediately afterward. I miss the love for each other and the selflessness and generosity and humanity that we all exhibited for each other. I miss the unity.  That day changed us for a while but it didn’t last. Here we are, nineteen years later, and there is more hate, vitriol, and divisiveness than there has ever been. We’ve let evil perpetuate and invade our society without bounds. It breaks my heart to see where we are today. We are better than that. We proved it nineteen years ago. And, we’ve proven it many times since when we’ve had other disasters. Why does it take a crisis or disaster to bring us together? Why can’t we all be kind and generous and loving like we were in those days just after 9/11, all the time? Where is the empathy for our fellow man that was so prevalent then? I know those questions are mostly rhetorical and I don’t expect an answer. Just a few thoughts to think on today, the day we mark the anniversary of that day that changed us all. 

August Recap

I have a cousin that posts a monthly recap on Facebook on the first of every month. I love reading it and catching up with her and her family. The idea of it is very appealing to me because we forget; we forget about the little things that happen in our daily lives as the days rush by. Before we know it, a month, a year, a decade has passed and those things that made life so sweet or hard have been lost to time. I’ve decided to start doing this for a the rest of the year and see how it goes.

August was hot, as usual, and this year two different hurricanes in the Gulf brought a lot of rain to us. Marco and Laura both looked like they would threaten the Alabama Gulf Coast but we were fortunate that they both went much further west. Unfortunately, the area around the Texas/Louisiana line received a double whammy as both of them made landfall there.

Covid numbers continued to climb for a good part of the month but finally took a downward trend toward the end of the month. Schools started statewide; some virtual, some in person, some homeschool, and some a combination. Tuscaloosa shut bars down again after students returned and social distancing wasn’t taking place.

We exercised our right to vote in the local elections. Both political parties held their conventions virtually and were televised but we didn’t watch any of either of them. It was a given who the candidates were going to be and neither of them had anything new to say.

Church is still online but we’re going to start back in person in a few weeks. I’m ready. I’ve missed worshipping with others. We’re preparing for life groups to start up as well.

August was a good crafty month…I was the Growing In Unity Girl for one week early in the month and had so much fun making things to feature! Then, I went to a scrapbook retreat at Grand Oak the last weekend of the month and really enjoyed seeing some old friends and making some new ones. My Christmas cards were the focus for me and I made a lot of headway toward getting them finished.

We got together with friends a couple of times for lunch or dinner and really enjoyed being able to do so. Our neighbors decided that we were having football regardless of what the powers the be say. They’re rewatching the 2015 season and having a watch party every weekend. We went to the first one but missed the last two.

Overall, it was a pretty good month. Nothing major going on with us which is a good thing. As we move into September and the last season of the year, I hope it stays that way.

Family Treasures and Peach Cobbler

I’ve been wanting some gumbo for several days. Today, when we woke up to a rainy, gray, dreary day, I decided it was a good day to make gumbo but I needed to go to the grocery store to pick up a few things first.

As soon as I walked in, I saw this big ole display of Chilton County peaches. Chilton County, Alabama is known for their peaches and having grown up in Alabama, I am quite familiar with them. I grew up eating them and although I’ve had some wonderful peaches all over the world, there’s just none like the ones from Chilton County in my mind. Anyway, when I smelled them, I had this overwhelming craving for peach cobbler. So, of course, six of them found their way home with me.

I have this old, somewhat beat up pan that belonged to my great-grandmother. It was her cobbler pan. Now, I was so blessed to know three of my eight great-grandparents and this great-grandmother is one of them. She lived with my grandparents and I have such wonderful memories of her. She had this jar of buttons that she would let me play with, stacking and matching, and counting them endlessly. I’d pick one out and she could tell me exactly where it came from. What dress, skirt, shirt, or jacket it had been on. That always amazed me. She would let me lie down on the sofa next to her and put my head in her lap and she would count my ribs. It tickled and I would giggle and squirm and she would get tickled at me. Such sweet memories!

Although I don’t use that pan very often, I decided to use it today. Not too long ago, I came across a few recipes from my grandmother that I had forgotten about and one of them was her peach cobbler recipe. I pulled it out and got busy. I peeled those peaches, and put them in that pan and made the crumbly topping. Then, I sprinkled it on top of those peaches and put it in the oven. Y’all…..that is the best cobbler I’ve ever made. Even KB was impressed. He had his with vanilla ice cream on it and he hummed when he took that first bite.

I love that I have these family treasures; the pan and the recipe, and the wonderful memories that they bring to mind. There’s something about using a decades old pan and recipe that brings comfort and hope, and just makes you feel good, knowing that you’re carrying on a tradition that ties you to the generations that went before. One day, I’ll pass that pan down to my son or daughter. I have a feeling that pan has a lot more cobblers to be made in it!

Nanny’s Peach Cobbler

6 ripe peaches, peeled and sliced

1 stick of cold butter 

1 cup self-rising flour

1 cup sugar

Put one TBSP of melted butter in the pan. Layer the sliced peaches in the pan. Mix the rest of the stick of butter with the flour and sugar. Crumble it all together. I use my hands to mix it, smushing the butter into the flour and sugar until it’s sort of mealy. Then sprinkle it all on top of the peaches. Do not stir. Bake in a 350 degree oven until done, about 45 minutes. Serve warm with ice cream if desired. 

Food is the ingredient that binds us together.

How I Got Into Making Cards

I have always loved to create. From the time I was a little girl, I’ve always had some creative hobby. Usually more than one at a time. But, for the last several years, I’ve had one hobby that has consumed me and every spare minute I can manufacture.

I fell into the rabbit hole of card making about three years ago. I attended a scrapbook retreat and participated in something called a shoebox card swap.  Even though I wasn’t a card maker and hadn’t planned to be a part of it, all of the people participating had made extra card kits so I was invited to play along.  To be honest, I really just did it because the cards were all so pretty and I was going to walk out of there with a bunch of cards that looked great and were easy to put together. It was not something I intended to ever do again after the retreat because I had tried stamping years ago and didn’t really enjoy it. Mostly because it was very frustrating to me and I wasn’t good at it. I could never get a clear image stamped. It was virtually impossible to get enough ink on a stamp to where I could only stamp it once and it be good enough to use. I would then have to re-stamp it and to be able to line it up perfectly a second time…well, it just wouldn’t happen for me.  But this time, there was something new in the mix. It’s called a MISTI.

The MISTI is a stamping platform that allows you to position your stamp and paper so that you can stamp the image over and over until you’ve gotten the complete image you want. Complete and total game changer for someone like me that had always struggled with this issue! It didn’t take me long to know that I had found a new craft and I was in trouble. LOL I jumped in with both feet and started to swim like crazy.

Card making has released a creativity in me that I honestly didn’t know I had. It has made me so much more aware of color and composition and how to create and balance them. It has led me to try things I never had the confidence to try before.  Watercolors, ink blending, art journaling, mixed media…these are just a few of the things I’ve discovered in the last few years. 

One of the biggest things it’s done for me, confidence wise, is being willing to share what I make. I actually send the cards I make to people! And I will share them on social media and in card making groups where some of the people there are AMAZING artists. But, one of the things I’ve also discovered about this community is that everyone is so encouraging and helpful. No matter how bad what you’ve made is, they are right there to give you advice on how to improve it and words to encourage and uplift you without being critical. There is always someone there to answer your questions and never make you feel stupid for asking something that has been asked a dozen times.

I will say this…it makes me happy and relaxes me to get in my little closet and play with stamps and ink, paper and markers, and paints and brushes. I make things I like. I make things that make me happy and, hopefully, when they land in someone else’s hands, make them smile. My goal is, and always will be, to bring a little sunshine to someone’s mail box.  Learning some art skills and discovering new techniques and mediums along the way is a bonus.  

This week, starting Monday, I will be really stepping out of my comfort zone by being a Growing In Unity (GIU) girl. Unity Stamp Company is one of my absolute favorite stamp companies. They have a wonderful program where you put your name in and they randomly draw out names-one for every week of the year-and then invite those drawn to showcase your creations for a week.  I entered last year and was so excited to have my name drawn. My week is next week-August 10-15. I’m so excited but also nervous. I know I’ve come a long way since I first started making cards but I’m no where near where I want to be.  I feel that it is truly an honor to be a GIU girl and I hope I can do their stamps justice. So, if you’re interested in seeing some awesome stamps or what I’ve made with them, check in every day this week and have a look! 

The desire to create is one of the deepest yearnings of the human soul.  Elder Uchtdorf

Taps

Day is done, gone the sun, 
From the hills, from the lake, 
From the skies. 
All is well, safely rest, 
God is nigh. 

You may not know the words, but I can assure you, you know the music.  It’s only 24 notes long and it brings chills every time I hear it. Bet it does for you, too.  These are the words to Taps, the bugle call that is played at military funerals and memorials.  It’s also played at the end of the day in US military installations all over the world, and is known to military personnel as ‘Lights Out’.  This weekend we are celebrating and remembering those that have given their lives for this country. If you’re paying attention or watching the news at all, you’ll hear it played at least once this weekend. 

Do you know where Taps originated?  According to several official sites (and the History Channel), we owe it to a Union General during the Civil War.  General Daniel Butterfield didn’t particularly care for the melody that was being played at the time; he felt it was too formal. So, he wrote some notes on the back of an envelope which were a revision of a current (at the time) bugle call called Tattoo, and then had his bugler try them out. They tweaked them a bit and that night, Oliver W. Norton, the company bugler, played it for Light Out. 

The first time it seems to have been used for funerals seems to have been during the Peninsular Campaign in Virginia (Civil War). A captain was worried that the traditional three volley shot would renew fighting with the nearby enemy troops, so he ordered Taps played instead to honor the fallen man.  It wasn’t until 1891 that it was officially adopted as the tune to be played at military funerals. 

Although the above words are not the official words -there aren’t any-they are the most popular version of words put to the music.  To me, the words aren’t the thing I remember about Taps. It’s the melancholy sound of the notes floating across the air. It’s the amazing way that instrument can produce such feeling. It’s the pride and respect it conveys for the fallen. It is a final goodbye that lingers in the ear and on the heart. 

Tomorrow at 3 pm (your time zone whatever it is), buglers all over the country will step out of their front door and play Taps to pay tribute to fallen service members.  I will step out on my front deck and listen. I sure hope I have someone in my neighborhood that will be playing!