A Day without Sunshine is Night

I have had writer's block. I'm not sure what the deal is, as I never seem to run out of things to say.  I have attempted to blog several times, but I always end up with a page full of mess that even I don't understand! Yesterday, as I found myself in my backyard baring it all(except for a swimsuit) and staring into the eyes of a very tiny hispanic man holding a tree trimming tool, I realized that I missed my true calling.  I should have a sitcom.  My entire life, I have just been a magnet for hilarious situations.  I can't explain it...but it's a good thing I inherited a good sense of humor!

Isn't it funny how Murphy's Law seems to work?  Our family has been so very busy as the new school year has finally begun.  Miss Abby Grace is playing freshman volleyball and has been going non-stop since August 6.  Cole became a teenager on August 11, I celebrated my 29th birthday(for the twelfth time)on the 26th and school began for my 7th grader and freshman on August 27.  Add an ailing father-in-law and a new business to the mix and you have EXHAUSTION! With the Nowell bus leaving the garage at 6:50 am, our day begins at 5:30.  My little princess has a disorder called "I can't get up with my alarm clock, so my mom has to come upstairs and yell at me for half an hour every single morning," so I set my alarm for 5:29am M-F.  Yes, 5:29.  I also have a disorder called "I don't like to end my alarm setting with an even number."  My day has been ending somewhere around 11 or so every night.  This is NOT enough beauty sleep for me! Yesterday afternoon, I decided I was going to take an hour to myself before picking up Abby from volleyball practice.  I raced to my closet and threw on a swimsuit and hightailed it out to the pool...ahhhh....I can't tell you the last time I had the entire house and pool to myself.  After a quick dip, I retired to the lawn chair, sprayed my spf and closed my eyes. As I felt myself drifting into oblivion, I was startled right back into reality by the sound of a tree limb hitting the walking path below us.  I jumped up and was face-to-face with a landscaper(no, not from Kevin's company) holding a long pole with shears on the end.  He said,"Hello." Yikes! What in the world?  WHY, of the 23 other hours in this day are they maintaining the small area around my house during the one hour I have taken for myself?! Soon, this guy's boss was pulling up on the walking trail in his four-door Dodge truck. So....the hour that was mine had turned into ten minutes of me time coupled with a near-heart attack and a quick jog back inside.  It was then that I realized this was so very typical.  I seem to find myself in situations that others could only imagine.  It is a curse, I tell ya!

As I celebrated a milestone (29) this week, I began to look back on the great life of Donna Alyson Poole Nowell.  Yes, in case you didn't know, my parents thought it was a fine idea to plague their first-born with the first name of her mother and then call her by her middle name.  Brilliance, I say. Anyway, I can only smile when I look back at my years of laughter.  I grew up with a dad who taught me how to find the funny in everything.  Sometimes, I admit, we both sort of take that to the extremes.  However, the two of us sure do think we're pretty dang hilarious! I have always been very hap-hazard. My mother never really knew what to do with me...at the age of three, I decided to run away from home.  I just couldn't listen to Donna Jean for another minute!  I owned a ride-on toy that was made to look like a duck.  That duck was my vehicle of choice that afternoon as I grabbed my raggedy ann doll and took off down the road toward Mrs. Burrell's house.  She was the most grand babysitter in all of McAdams and I knew that if I could just make it to her front door, I would be free as a bird(or a duck with wheels anyway).  Somewhere between the Perry's house and the White's driveway, Donna caught on to me.  I know it seems crazy that I remember this day as a three-year-old, but I do remember the look on that woman's face as she scooped me up and carried me back to the blonde brick house on that beautiful country road leading to Coleman Cemetery.

At the age of four, I visited the ER for an extraction of fine pearls from my ear canal. At six, I crashed my go-kart and demolished the family swing set.  When I was eight, I convinced my four-year-old brother to capture a bumblebee with his bare hands while we sat in the backseat of Donna's Ford LTD waiting to go to church.  When I turned nine, I was informed that we would be welcoming a new addition to our family.  I answered,"No thank you."  At ten, I called my mother every single day for a week because I had a stomachache at school.  She refused to come get me after the third day.  Therefore, I called my sidekick, Loree Wyatt Poole(aka Granny).  Granny came to get me every time I called and took me back to the comfort of her house on the hill.  On that Saturday, I planted myself in the floor of our bathroom while my mother proceeded to call me melodramatic. I know, right?! Granny convinced Mama to get me to the emergency room.  A few hours later, I was under the knife with Dr. Coleman Pickle removing my appendix. Back in those days, an appendectomy was a big cut with 7 to 9 stitches and a week in the hospital.  Granny refused to let Donna stay with me.  She stayed by my side that entire week as we both decided that it was us against the world! The age of eleven found me watching as my dad's brother went into an alcoholic rage and held a gun to my father's face.  THIS, I will never forget.  It is a defining moment in my life.  It was at that young age that I realized how precious life is.  I realized that I must seize every single second and enjoy it.

 At twelve, our family went camping at Holmes County State Park the week before school started.  I was disgusted at the fact that my brother Jason had not yet mastered the monkey bars at the age of eight.  SO, I took it upon myself to demonstrate for him.  During my demonstration of monkey bar skills, those darn things threw me to the ground.  I landed on my right forearm. **sounds an awful lot like a certain blonde boy's events on the second grade playground, doesn't it?** As I lay in agony, my parents told me to stop screaming and come eat supper.  I cried all night.  The next day, Donna found herself being chastised by Dr. Hartness as he fitted my arm into my brand new cast.  Yep, I had slept in a sleeping bag on the cold, hard ground with a broken arm.  Poor me.  Two years later, I was carrying out my weekly manual labor at home while Jason sat leisurely in the arm chair watching cartoons after school. I guess Justin was still at the Pee Wee Patch daycare as Mama and Daddy were still at work.  Somehow, that stinkin' Tilex bottle got turned around as I was spraying the sink and that stuff went directly into my right eye.  I, being the quick thinker, immediately turned on cold water and washed out my eye.  Jason came to my  rescue and called Mama. Having learned her lesson by this time, she raced home! We headed back to my home away from home and were greeted by the ER staff at MJMH. I was treated and given some ointment and pain killers before going home to await my appointment with the eye specialist the next day.  Fast forward to the next morning...as we were preparing to leave for Jackson, I was walking down the hall and suddenly found myself in my bed looking up at Dr. Gilliland.  I had passed out and Donna Jean called our neighbor, Dr. G.  He arrived in pajamas with a stethoscope around his neck.  Talk about a house call! I spent the next five days in the hospital.  My parents were told that I may never regain sight in my right eye.  Weeks later, the glamorous black eye patch was removed and we were given the news--a miracle had occurred and I could see!!!! For the next 20 years, my right eye had nearly perfect vision! To say I was a precocious child is putting it MILDLY!!! My poor parents  did the best they could with me.  I was probably a hopeless case!!!

Believe me, I am leaving out many glorious details that I will probably share later.  I have so enjoyed reminiscing and solidifying the fact that I have ALWAYS been exactly who I am now.  I have matured(a very little)and realized that some of the core things that I thought I believe in are actually much different from the way I was raised back then...another story for later...but for the most part, I have always been a bit brassy and sassy.  I've always had a special knack for finding excitement even when there doesn't seem to be any around.  I don't know why I was blessed with such an eventful life, but I am certainly thankful for it.  I mean, how much fun would the days be without laughter? After all, isn't a day without sunshine just night? Put some sunshine in your life.  Find the funny.  It is so much more enjoyable that way!!!

Choose your Battles

John Wyatt Poole--beloved child of Loree and Johnnie Poole born October 22, 1959

Now that I am living in my fortieth year of life, I have truly come to grips with what it means to "choose your battles."  One might assume that this means I have become less vocal and less battle-ready. Quite the opposite, I'm afraid.  I am tired of choosing battles based on what others may think.   I am tired of standing back and pretending that what others say about those I love doesn't matter. I am choosing my battles.   I made a promise years ago that I would NEVER again let anyone hurt those I love without speaking up. I feel like I am beating a dead horse by continuing to explain my reasons for the way I feel and the events that led me to my core beliefs.  Let me give you a small introduction to my family.  I was born in 1972 in Attala County, Mississippi.  I quickly became the apple of my grandmother's eye.  Granny, aka Loree Wyatt Poole, was a force with which to be reckoned.  I wish reality shows were around back then.  I swear, she could have had her own!!! As a young child, I spent nearly every single day with my grandparents.  Not only was I spending time with Granny and Pappy, but I also got to know my first best friend.  John Wyatt Poole was born in 1959 and was adopted at birth by Johnnie and Loree Poole(Granny and Pappy).  John was my daddy's baby brother and was not quite 13 when I was born.  I became his little "Barbie doll," for lack of a better word.  He enjoyed dressing me up and teaching me all about life.  He did my hair from the time I had any and was my very best friend.  **Feel free to look back over previous posts for the details of our special relationship**

I can't remember a time when I DIDN'T know John was gay.  I also can't remember a time when it mattered.  While in the safe haven of Granny's house, I was taught that it was a non-issue..... I didn't see Uncle John as any different from anyone else......except for one thing:  he was truly the only person with whom I felt completely comfortable to voice my thoughts and I knew he would love me anyway.  He was the one who taught me the meaning of unconditional love, and I am so proud to be his niece.  Uncle John and I had a relationship that nobody else could ever understand.  We were just close enough in age that we "got" each other and just far apart enough that I still respected him as my uncle.  As a teenager, I began to realize what being gay meant.  Believe me when I tell you that we just never discussed sexuality in my home or my grandparents' home.  John was John and my daddy loved his little brother.  My dad NEVER, EVER spoke ill of his little brother.  Their middle brother, however, is a different story.  Maybe I'll touch on that another time.  Anyway, as I got into high school and began to hear words such as "fag, homo, gay," I began to realize that Uncle John was among those being targeted with the hateful way of thinking.  So, I(being the unfiltered girl that I am) decided to ask him point-blank.  I guess I was around 13 or 14 when I approached him.  

We were sitting at Granny's kitchen table looking out into the gorgeous backyard.  I think we were eating Raisins, Rice and Rye.  Anybody remember that cereal?  Granny, John and I devoured box after box of that stuff...I said,"Are you gay?" My witty uncle looked me straight in the eyes and said,"Are you?" I am laughing out loud right now as I recall that moment.  I said,"Ummmm, no...but I know you are."  He said," Would that change anything?"  I said,"No.  I just wanna know."  He said,"I can't be who I am around here. I am hated for who I am."  He told me that he didn't want me saying anything to anyone about him or my support of him.  He told me that it wasn't accepted around there and it would just bring me heartache and hurt.  So, I kept quiet.  I listened silently as others made wisecracks and remarks about gay people.  I NEVER joined in, but I also never spoke up.  That is a regret I will always have.  I regret not going against John's wishes on that.  

A few days after my conversation with my uncle, I had a discussion with Granny.  We were sitting on her screened-in front porch.  My granny was my rock.  She told me things when nobody else would.  She treated me like a person who mattered.  Even as a child, I felt that she respected my opinions.  Maybe it was mostly because I usually agreed with HER...hehe...I said,"John's gay."  She said,"And?"  I asked her what she thought about it.  She told me that John had been "John" from the time he was a toddler.  There was no mistaking that he was born the way he was.  There was no choice in who God made him to be.  Straight from Granny's mouth,"God made him the way he is for a reason.  He is no different from my other sons and I love him and want him to be able to have the same things my other two have in this world."  There is not a doubt in my soul that if she were here today, she would SO fight for marriage equality.  No doubt.  I KNOW.  I actually had the guts and the courage to ASK her how she felt.  Others, it seems, just chose to talk about her and her child behind her back.  

So.....I say all that to bring me to where I am today.  I have found myself in the middle of a vicious cycle of babbling ignorance.  I have sat quietly(believe it or not)as I have received countless---seriously, countless---emails and facebook posts stating that gay people are "satanic, filthy sodomites who are burning in hell."  It amazes me that someone else's sexuality can take up that much of some people's time.  Why does it offend these people so much?! If you truly believe that only those who believe and interpret the Bible exactly the way you do are going to Heaven, why do you also find the need to constantly degrade and de-humanize other people?  If you were a true Christian who believed these people are going to hell, would you not be approaching them with love, understanding, compassion and desire to share the gospel with them?  Spouting off hateful, bigoted remarks is not really the Christian way to be.  I, for one, have chosen to live by what I have read in Matthew as Jesus' own words.  This is quoted from Jesus:

Matthew 7:1-5

King James Version (KJV)

7 Judge not, that ye be not judged.

² For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again.

³ And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?

⁴ Or how wilt thou say to thy brother, Let me pull out the mote out of thine eye; and, behold, a beam is in thine own eye?

⁵ Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye.

Please, if you are going to blast hate, don't do it in Jesus' name.  


I am saddened because I never believed that old saying,"You can't teach an old dog new tricks."  However, maybe it is true.  Maybe focusing on the real future of this country  and  teaching our children love and acceptance of ALL of God's creations, we will finally begin to see some equality in this world.  Until then, I say,"This is for you, John.  I love you and I miss you with all my heart.  Thank you for teaching me how to love without conditions."