If I am going to tell the story of me to my grandchildren, I suppose I should start at the beginning.
My name is Deborah Jeanne Gresham--Nana to you, Ryder, Kota, and Benntli. I was born on March 4, 1968 at 4:59 a.m. (sorry Mom and Dad) at Valley Presbyterian Hospital in Van Nuys, California. I was 20 inches long and weighed in at 7 pounds 13 ounces. My mom says I was all red and wrinkled and my face was full of scratches. Apparently I was in a hurry to get out! She also said that I had big, round, blue eyes and was the prettiest baby in the nursery. She may have been seeing me through the delirium of childbirth. But this is my story, so we will go with it! Prettiest baby in the nursery right here!
My name is kind of unique because while it is a southern name-- Debra Jean is about as country as you can get and clearly lends itself to milking cows or something-- my parents chose to elevate it a bit to Deborah Jeanne. Which is definitely classier. My dad will tell you that it is not Deb-Ra.....it's deb-a-ruh...three syllabus. Since he is the one who named me, I guess he gets to decide. He said he picked Deborah after the actress Deborah Kerr. Jeanne was my mother's first name (Jeanne Katherine) although in her case it was pronounced Jeannie and my version is pronounced Jean.
Fun side note: My mom tells me she actually wanted to name me Natalie Dawn. I am not sure why she picked that, but I am glad my dad won this debate! Natalie Dawn makes me think of the song Delta Dawn (by Tanya Tucker)-- Song break: Delta Dawn, what's that flower you have on, could it be a faded rose from days gone by, and did I hear you say he was a meeting you here today to take you to his mansion in the sky..... anyway, I am glad to be Debi and not Nat.
At the time I was born, my dad (Gary Winston Gresham) was in the U.S. Army and was stationed in California--which is why we were there. My older brother, Richard Winston Gresham (born May 17, 1966) was apparently very excited to be a big brother! They tell me he was a great one--even if he did pull me off the bed in his excitement to see me. Clearly, I don't remember any of this early stuff so I am having to rely on the stories of those who were there for this part of my life (although I totally concur that he was a great big brother. The best!) My dad hasn’t talked much about his time in California, but my mom has told me stories of her life working in downtown Hollywood, seeing movie stars, meeting people unlike anyone she had encountered in small town Texas, and the friends she made while living in California. While she may be a Texas girl at heart, it seems like she might have been able to flourish under the California sun as well! But, that was not to be. When I was three months old, my dad got out of the Army, my family loaded up the car, and we headed back to Texas. While they tell me I "was an angel" during the trip and slept most of the way--that big brother of mine had other ideas. He apparently took advantage of a sleep break and decided to eat a pack of cigarettes. Go, Rich! Blazing your own trail right from the get go!!
We settled in Pasadena, Texas for a bit. Then Cushing. Then back to Pasadana. Deer Park. Cushing. Houston. Pasadena. Cushing. Deer Park. La Porte. Nacogoches. You get the picture. I don't have a hometown. I have a home state. In 13 years of school I think I changed schools about 15 times. And there are only a handful of times that I went to the same school for more than one year in a row. It seems my dad had a bit of wanderlust in him and needed to move A LOT. As an adult, I admire his willingness to chase his dreams and go when/where he wanted--as a child it was hard. The first memories I have take place in Cushing, Texas. Not a lot of them--but I do have a few--a couple of favorites. Full disclosure. I have no idea if these are true or not. They are my memories and the way I remember them but whether or not that means this is how they actually happened, I can't say. I already shared the story of digging for treasure with my big brother, Rich. So, here's a few more!
We lived in Cushing, Texas several times as I was growing up. If I had to claim a hometown, this would be it. While I never stayed longer than a year at a time, I started and ended school in this town. My dad's family is from this area. During the times that I went to Cushing, I was in the same class as one of my cousins, had several other cousins in the school, and still another cousin who was a coach there. We were just one big happy Bearkat family. My mom worked at the elementary school doing something when I was around four and I used to go to work with her at times. I would go to recess with the big kids. We would outline houses on the ground using pine needles, come up with elaborate stories, and act out the game of life. I was obviously the youngest one--since I wasn't even in school yet-- and was typically required to be the "baby" so I didn't DO much..but it was a lot of fun and a wonderful memory!
I started kindergarten there as well. My cousin, Andy, and I are the same age and we were in the same pre-school and kindergarten class for a bit. We were friends then. When we were young we would play together at my Grandma 'Ree's house, swing in the tire swing my Papa hung, and just do the normal things kids did. When we started school, we would play together at recess, have snack together, and make sure our mats were next to each other for nap time. We were even the kindergarten representatives for the school Harvest festival (or something). We were part of the court and got to dress up and participate in the ceremony that was held in the school auditorium. I remember walking down the aisle or across the stage...there was walking involved. It was fun to be part of the group and probably one of the last times I ever felt like I belonged in a school. We moved shortly after this event and started the trend that would continue through the rest of my schooling. Sadly, my cousin and I were never close again. Life took us in different directions and while we will always be cousins, we were no longer friends. That was the first, of many, lost friendships due to our wandering lifestyle.
The best thing that happened during this time? My little brother, Roger Ellis Gresham, was born! (September 19, 1973). He was a cute little bug! Richard and I were so excited to have a baby brother and thought he was an especially cool one. Look at this face! He is the cutest! These pictures of him remind me of Ryder and Benntli--and their dad, Corde. They all have the blond hair and big smiles. Ryder even had the same wild curls that Roger sported! The family genes are strong in these ones!
The worst thing that happened during this time? This is where I got the only spanking that I can remember. You see, I was (am) a pretty sensitive person and really all I needed was to be talked to or have my dad tell me he was disappointed in me. That would do me in. I would cry, feel horrible, and commit to never doing whatever it was again. I am a rule follower by nature and I don't like getting in trouble. My brother on the other hand, seemed to thrive on trouble! This was the summer before Roger was born. My mom was very pregnant and probably quite miserable. As my dad headed off to work *or somewhere) that day he told Richard and I to be calm. To be nice. And to help our mom. We weren't. We didn't. Richard decided it was a grand day for an adventure. And I decided it was a great day to do whatever Richard wanted. So, Richard, elaborated this giant game of chase that had me, Richard, and our friend Marty running all over the apartment complex hiding from bad guys, chasing crooks, and escaping captives. We were climbing trees, hiding in bushes, running through the house, tracking dirt everywhere, and screaming....a LOT! I can hear Richard now yelling "Go, Go, GO!" and Marty and I screaming at the top of our lungs as we ran after him and followed him into the next adventure. Oh--Richard. He was a good leader!
Later that night, my dad came home and found out about our day. Richard got a spanking. I got one swat and then "the talk"--and it sucked. I hated it when I got the "disappointed" talk! BUT this particular day I was feeling kind of feisty. So, here's the scene: I was sitting at the table waiting for dinner. My mom was in the kitchen doing important mom stuff. My brother comes walking around the corner and he his cheeks are wet, eyes are red, clearly upset. I looked him right in the eyes, smiled, and mouthed "ha ha ha my didn't hurt." THEN my dad walked around the corner! He saw the whole thing. He took me from the table and I got the only actual spanking that I remember. And it definitely hurt!
You know what else I remember about that night? My brother, Rich, he didn't tease me after my spanking like I had teased him. He just gave me hug and tried to make me smile. Lesson learned, big brother.
Moral of the stories, grands of mine, love your cousins and siblings. Treasure your friendships. Embrace each other. Show kindness and compassion. Take the time to cultivate relationships and value those who are in your life. And most importantly my dear ones, know that you are loved! #nanalove
I was perusing some hiking pages on Facebook or Instagram when I noticed a post about Wolf Creek Falls that seemed to be fairly recent. I started reading the comments and several people claimed the trails were open for hiking as long as users maintained social distancing and accepted that the restroom facilities were all closed. WHAT?! What is this trickery! Based on the news and press releases we have very much been led to believe that all outdoor spaces were OFF limits! Now, earlier this month I learned that the BLM land at the NorthBank Habitat was open and I enjoyed a lovely day exploring there. At the time I briefly considered heading out to the forest land to see if it was also open but ASSUMED based on the news reports that it wasn't. Well, you probably know what "they" say about assuming, right? It makes an ass out of you and me...well in this case, definitely ME! I have been home for seven weeks now and I could have been hiking all that time! I truly feel robbed. BUT, the important thing is that I know now.
After stopping along the bridge to take some lovely pictures I headed towards the Wright Creek trail-head. It is 8 mile section, clearly I was not going to do the whole thing--since I was alone and didn't have a shuttle car-- but I explored parts of it for fun. I went out about a mile-and-a-half until it got too muddy. By the time I made it back to the Tioga section, I had walked just under four miles. I felt like I had a little more in me so I headed out towards the Swiftwater trail-head (from Tioga). I didn't have any specific destination at that point, just thought I would see how far I could go. I was reluctant to leave the peace and tranquility of the forest. I loved being lost in the trees, feeling the breeze, hearing the river, and the crunch of the trail beneath my shoes. Bliss.
Until my stomach started growling! It was almost 5:00 by them so I turned around and headed back to the car. In the end I had walked around 5 miles and soaked up lots of tree therapy! MUCH needed therapy!
