After Ginny and I were born, Daddy gave himself completely over to loving us, “his girls.” Daddy is a tough disciplinarian for sure, but we were never too old to be close. Even still, we sit close on the couch, his hand on the back of our heads. We hug each other hello and goodbye. Sometimes, we hold hands on the front porch swing.
Ginny and I used to tease Daddy about being overprotective. We didn’t understand why he would spend time thinking through the worst that could happen in any given scenario. We’ve decided it is likely a healthy combination of both genetics and the thirty-two years he spent as a probation officer.
Not so long ago, a big company did a nice thing for a little family. Way Down Deep wants to say thank you and acknowledge how little things can mean a whole lot. In this episode, Jamie and Elizabeth talk about the kindness of the folks at Gold Peak Tea during their recovery efforts of hurricane Michael.
Gold Peak Tea
I imagine it was hot. Summer in south Georgia is something to behold. Just walking across a yard makes me feel like a lit candle – melting by degrees.
She sweats through her day dress, big dark circles appear on mousey-brown fabric, soft from washing and washing again. If there had been a breeze, the wet circles under her arms, across her breasts, and the band soaked around her waistline might have provided some cooling relief, but there was no breeze. Just oppressive, thick, wet heat. No rain in sight. The dogs rarely left their wallowed ruts under the house, as summer slunk its way into fall.
It was an ordinary day – a day full of chores: cooking, washing, cleaning, churning, feeding chickens, sweeping yards, tending to hot, fussy children. An unremarkable day and yet around 140 years later, it’s one of the only stories I know about her.
Cube farms are full of intrigue, drama, and even comedy when Elizabeth is listening on the other side of the wall. In this episode, Elizabeth and Jamie talk about her experience in a cube farm and grinding it out for that all important family health insurance plan! Characters abound in this episode of Way Down Deep: The Podcast.
Sean Dietrich, aka Sean of the South, is a large talent. His incredibly perceptive musings and descriptions about the South and it’s personalities are right on target. Give a quick listen to what is a rather inadequate thank you for a super, large gift. Thank you Sean Dietrich for serendipities at Christmas! If you haven’t already, start following Sean Dietrich today. You won’t regret it. I sure didn’t!
Sean of the South Podcast
Sean of the South Facebook
Sean of the South Instagram
At fourteen years old, Jeremiah O’Driscoll stowed away on a boat headed to Boston for a chance at a better life. What does an ancient ancestor have to do with an 8 year old’s birthday? This weeks episode of Way Down Deep: “Birthday Boy” explains it all.
Who knew deodorant could reek such havoc? In this light-hearted edition of Way Down Deep, Elizabeth and Jamie wade into the differences in men and women – in the grocery store. There’s never a dull moment at the Cantrell’s!
Things did not end the way we wanted in 2018. There was a hurricane that caused massive damage here right before the holidays. It brought the blog and podcast to a screeching hault. But we’re back and ready for 2019! We will have a full episode up on Tuesday night, but here is a mini-episode until then. Thanks for listening and Happy New Year!!
Weather in South Georgia is not unpredictable. We always have super-hot summers and mild, short springs. Fall is usually an extension of summer with days warm enough for short-sleeves lasting through October, sometimes even November. Winter doesn’t really start until around January and even then, we can count on cold rain more than hard, deep freeze. From time to time, we can expect a tornado or two, or at the very least, a handful of warnings. In Southwest Georgia, we all know that hurricanes blowing in from the Gulf of Mexico have the potential to be more ominous than those from the Atlantic.
Sometimes though, weather alerts feel a little like The Boy Who Cried Wolf. Our local meteorologists warn us for days about the potential for high winds and monumental amounts of rain, only to receive a smattering of rain with winds that blow over an outdoor trashcan. Inconveniences at best.
There are lots of things I don’t mind waiting for: the start of a concert, those days before a baby is born, for Christmas to come. There is an anticipation associated with that kind of waiting, and it colors the wait with bright, vibrant expectant excitement. That kind of wait tastes like cinnamon.
I don’t like waiting on unknowns. Those things whose outcomes are unpredictable: the limbo period after a job interview, waiting for the cast list to go up, weather forecasts, test results. Those waits tiptoe around my mind smearing blue and deep purple, grey. Waits like that slowly float under waterfalls of worry. Those kinds of waits, the ones without anticipation sprinkled in, taste like scalded milk and smell like hot plastic.