Along the Trail

Posted on July 17, 2009 by Ruth Marie Oliver

Today at Aviation Challenge we graduated our Mach 3 – Twelve Day trainees, campers that are so die hard they come back year after year. They survived our watered down version of SERE, flying F-15s into simulated combat, several bumps and bruises, and a few trips to the hospital. Years from now they will remember their two weeks spent around “the lake.”

We also had the privilege of watching a hero of Vietnam pin a medal on a hero of our current wars. SGM Jerry Gleason is Aviation Challenge; he wrote the survival curriculum and lived what he taught. He has inspired many campers to pursue their dream. SGT Whitfield or Safety is one of those campers. Safety served his country diligently for five years and now he is working at Aviation Challenge.

I am so lucky to work where I work and have the chance to do the things that I do. I work with a tremendous group of people. I am blessed to see the campers grow up in the Space Camp family of programs. Recently, I have had the chance to ponder on my time around the lake, my career in camping, and what the future may hold for me. Where would I be and what would I be doing if I had not been exiled to the lake?

First, I guess you need to know a little bit about my career path and possible goal. Growing up all I dreamed of was one day living on a paved road. I didn’t plan to be a doctor, lawyer, or engineer because I wasn’t that smart. At the age of fifteen I volunteered as a CIT at Camp Garaywa in Clinton, Mississippi for a few weeks. I didn’t realize how hooked I was at the time, but I was addicted to camp and working with kids. The next summer I had secured of job at Camp of the Rising Son as an Assistant Counselor or AC for short. I spent four wonderful summers working along the shores of Lake Anne. That led me to Delta State University pursing an Elementary Education degree.

Choosing a college will impact your life and career! I worked at various camps throughout college. All of this in hopes of one day landing a full time job in summer camping. During my student teaching I was lucky enough to travel back to Space Camp as a chaperone. I fell back in love with the space program and with Huntsville, AL. Life and love led me back to work at Space Camp even when I was working year round at Twin Lakes in Mississippi. Eventually and unknowingly planned, I moved to Alabama to work full time at Space Camp. But I would not work in the full time camp operations.

My first job was in education, work with teacher camp. I loved it. Honestly, I dream of the day I would return to work with the teachers. Full time called me to the service of NASA Stars a program that would allow me to work along side camp operations preparing teachers and kids for an out of this world experience to Space Camp. Kids from low income areas of Alabama would travel to Huntsville for a three day camp experience. I had no clue about the kid’s portion of Space Camp. The fall flew by, I was engaged, and working in education. Along the same time came a decree from above that I would spend my summer at Aviation Challenge in the operations side of the house.

I didn’t enjoy the thought of being exiled where old aircraft sit and rust or cranky old men yell at you for running on the grass. I wanted to work with my friends in education. I felt that the Space Camp gods were punishing me for being a bad alumnus of the programs. That summer turned out to be great. I worked with Lurch as a supervisor, met Safety as a camper, and heard of the glory days where Gordo, Spanky, Sandrat, and Joker ran wild on AC with the 77th Black Knights. I remember reporting at the assigned time of nine o’clock in the morning. My boss, well renown fighter pilot in the F-4 community, didn’t show up until some point after me. I learned quickly that wake-up is at seven o’clock and good Assistant Managers should report before that time.

I learned a lot more that summer, lifeguards are hard to manage especially when she resembles a bearded goat, graduation days need to be well organized, there is no need to drive from the office to Gate 5 if there is a staff member having a seizure near the F-14, or never leave an Asperger’s Syndrome kid alone under the bubble with a bully. Learning a lot didn’t make up for me feeling like I had gotten off the trail somehow. Had I looked away from my dream and found myself at AC?

I think I have felt that way for five years. “I’m in the wrong place, I want to do more, I need more of a challenge!” were the lies I filled my head with because I wasn’t where “I thought” I should be. Life mellowed me out, calmed me down, and Marcia Lindstrom took over as Director of Ops. Things changed and I learned a more few things.

I left Camp of the Rising Son because I thought I had something to prove. I have always regretted that decision. And that may be the first time I have admitted that to myself, much less the world. This week I looked back on my career, where I want to go and where I have been. I considered having been exiled to the lake, and now going back to education, this time as the director, and returning to CRS for their Mega Reunion. Looking at all of these things were more like a crossroad not a straight path, but a scary dragon showed me the correct path. I realized how much I love the kids, how much I love my job, and how much I love the people I work with. But most of all I realized how much I loved working with the kids. I am in the right spot. I don’t have to do anything different to prove a point.

Chief Margie taught me a great truth long ago and that is “Camp is for the Camper.” If you aren’t in the game for that end you shouldn’t be in the game. Life is sweeter when you put others first! I am very thankful my path is along side campers, counselors, and other staff! Graduation today was a wonderful testament to the old and new guard and you can’t get away from Chief Margie’s teaching even in Huntsville, Alabama.

Posted in Camp | Tagged , , , | Comments Off on Along the Trail

Shrimp & Grits

Posted on June 21, 2009 by Ruth Marie Oliver

Every morning during training at Space Camp I make a packet of instant grits for my breakfast. Some people would think that instant grits are not real grits and would suggest I wait. Grits aren’t served on the camp line until almost 9 o’clock. I simply can not wait for industrial grits. I have a great system which yields respectable grits. One pack of grits, one serving of butter, two packets of pepper, and one packet of salt all mixed with water from the coffee maker at camp.

Some of the counselors from the north, I will refrain from calling them yankees, think that I am mixing up cream of wheat or oatmeal. And when I try to teach them of grits they are perplexed as to why anyone would want to eat grits. Even the name sounds horrific. Grits are firmly rooted in my southern heritage. Grits fall behind eggs in the south as the most liked breakfast item. On days that Gran would prepare rice with breakfast my cousin Dustin would refer to them as long skinny grits. Proving that our first reference point as southern children to a grain dish is the honorable grit!

Growing up we would have breakfast for supper. This was the best, because you didn’t have to rush out the door to school or work. You could enjoy each morsel of food. One night Mr. Horn, long time friend of my family and husband of my fourth grade teacher, stayed for supper. From how much he ate I felt that Mrs. Horn didn’t feed the poor man. He ate everything insight. I think he ate every grit in the bowl. With our grits my mom would cook country ham and red eye gravy. I believe the combination of red eye gravy and grits is culinary perfection.

While living in Jackson, I worked at Twin Lakes Conference Center as a host on the weekends. I love the mornings!!! Ms. Bobby in the kitchen would feed us in the back after the guests went through the line. On the morning she prepared grits I would go back for seconds and sometimes thirds. Bacon was my preferred side item during those years. My roommate Chef Holman made wonderful grits as well. She taught me to use cream rather than milk. I also learned to add different types of cheese if using grits with other dishes.

As my taste buds have matured, I love to find new ways of preparing grits. I have enjoyed shrimp and grits from South Carolina to Texas. Here in Huntsville there are a few places which have shrimp and grits. None of which I would write about. So often cooks want to cover up the grits with a thick roux or it has a soup like consistency. The best shrimp and grits I ever had was at Blackberry Farm on the back deck of the main house. I give it a five grit rating.

Last night I tried for the first time making shrimp and grits. I have never even tried cooking shrimp, so my attempting a dish that I had no experience in was quiet a leap of faith for me. I looked on the internet and found a Paula Deen recipe. If you are going to cook a southern dish she is the first and sometimes only person I would trust outside of blood kin. After doing my research I visited Fresh Market in hopes of finding high quality grits. I was shocked to find Fresh Market, known for its exotic and gourmet foods only sold Quaker instant grits. The same grits I eat for breakfast at work. I would have thought the store would have had something better than instant grits.

During my adventures in life and food I have learned that three minutes is the standard for cooking shrimp and bacon makes everything good. I have learned that eggs and grits make a great combination, but never order grits from the Waffle House. I know after my experience cooking shrimp and grits, the best place to get the southern dish here in Huntsville may be from my own kitchen. I have included Paula Deen’s recipe. Please try to find your own favorite dish and make it at home. We live in a country that spends too much time around someone else’s table eating food from a stranger’s kitchen. Eat what you love with the ones you love!

Paula Deen’s Shrimp & Grits

Ingredients

1 cup stone-ground grits
Salt and pepper
1/4 cup butter
2 cups shredded sharp Cheddar cheese
1 pound shrimp, peeled and deveined, left whole if small and roughly chopped if medium or large
6 slices bacon, chopped into tiny pieces
4 teaspoons fresh lemon juice
2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
1 cup thinly sliced green onions, white and green parts
1 large clove garlic, minced

Procedures

1. In a medium saucepan, bring 4 cups water to a boil. Add the grits and salt and pepper to taste. Stir well with a whisk. Reduce the heat to the lowest possible setting and cook the grits until all the water is absorbed, about 10 to 15 minutes. Remove from the heat and stir in the butter and cheese. Keep covered until ready to serve.

2. Rinse the shrimp and pat dry. Fry the bacon in a large skillet until browned and crisp, then drain on a paper towel. Add the shrimp to the bacon grease in the skillet and sauté over medium heat just until they turn pink, about 3 minutes. Add the lemon juice, parsley, green onions, and garlic while shrimp cook. Do not overcook! Remove the skillet from the heat.

3. Pour the grits into a serving bowl. Pour the shrimp mixture over the grits. Garnish with the bacon bits.

Posted in Food | Tagged , , | Comments Off on Shrimp & Grits

Sandwiches

Posted on June 10, 2009 by Ruth Marie Oliver

Remember on “Friends” when Joey had one of his meatball sandwiches. And there was that time when Joey appeared to be protecting Chandler from gun shots. It turned out that Joey was only lunging to save his meatball sandwich. There are many varieties of sandwiches. Jared lost like 200 pounds by eating at Subway. Elvis had his legendary fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches. There are even some sandwiches that you might not classify as sandwiches like gyros, pitas, hot dogs or wraps.

In celebration of something as old as Passover I have selected my favorite sandwiches of all times. Sandwiches are important to a person and who they are. I am not Joey, and I wouldn’t take a bullet for a sandwich. But I will classify and list my favorite sandwiches.

5. EALD Sandwich from Space Camp

The Early Arrival/Late Departure sandwich is something of Space Camp lore. It is so strange how a sandwich made of a burger bun, a slice of turkey, and slice of processed cheese product which has been in a cooler for over 24 hours could be so good. Maybe it is because when a person eats an EALD sandwich they are hungry and exhausted. Or it could be that it simply reminds you of Space Camp and childhood, something simple, something refreshing, and something that is grounded. An EALD sandwich is accompanied by two Oreo cookies, Lays potato chips, and a condiment/plasticware pack. I am sure the unneeded plasticware would make Al Gore anger but it is the unexplainable nature of Space Camp.

4. Open Face Roast Beef from Airport Grocery in Cleveland, Mississippi.

Ah… Airport Grocery! Is there anything better in the world than a Friday afternoon in the Mississippi Delta? The original Airport Grocery was along side Highway 8 in Cleveland near the airport and near the movie theater. I loved it. The open face roast beef with gravy fries is better than Jack & Coke! True, at the time I had not met Jasper Newton Daniel. But if you know me, you will understand the analogy. The old road signs and other produce signs along the wall only inspired me to fashion my back porch after my Delta roots. Or maybe it was the fact that eating gravy fries with beef shortened my life by fifteen minutes with each visit to the grocery that made life great as a college student!

3. Bacon Turkey Bravo from Panera Bread

Ok… when I first set out to make this list I didn’t want to put a “chain” sandwich on the list. But I can’t not put the Bacon Turkey Bravo on the list. The tomato basil bread with just a hint of cinnamon-sugar on the crust of the bread makes the sandwich unexpected and child like. Remember the first time your chocolate fell into the jar of peanut butter? Oh how the combination excited you? The Bacon Turkey Bravo reminds me of all those culinary accidents like peanut butter cups and penicillin. The smoked Gouda gives something to the noise and to the taste buds. The great thing about this sandwich is how many people love the sandwich, but can you blame anyone for loving something with bacon on it?

2. PBC Club at Prescott Brewing Company in Prescott, Arizona.

Some may be shocked to find the PBC Club at number two on my list of grand sandwiches. It is the best sandwich that can be purchased at a restaurant. I originally discovered the sandwich from a chance meeting in Prescott Arizona with a vegetarian. On a recruiting trip with Snapper and a dinner with Forecast I was introduced to a club on focaccia bread with a chipotle mayo spread. Yum!!! I guess I just love the club family of sandwiches. The PBC Club is the best version of the club to date. I know I am too young to be an expert and too old to be a friend. But the sandwich is good and the environment of Prescott is awesome! I can’t wait for Arizona 2009!

1. Peanut Butter and Jelly from my mother’s kitchen in Winona, Mississippi.

I am a finicky eater! As a red head who didn’t like pizza as a child the only protein for me was peanut butter! My mom would make me PBJs. With a knife she would meticulously smooth the peanut butter out over the Wonder Bread and then with a spoon she would apply the home made jelly. Only a NASA scientist could measure the thickness as exact as my mom. It was the perfect ratio of peanut butter to jelly. Only Jif peanut butter would do and only my mom could make the perfect sandwich. It was perfectly made to keep me alive. The bread was perfectly aligned, made with love, and tasted great. In some ways, I think my mom’s PBJ made me focused on perfection, because as a small carpet crawler I found perfection on a plate in Carroll County Mississippi!

I am sure there will be more sandwiches I will love along the road of life. I will some day tell you about pancake puppies and my fetish with corndogs as a child; but know that a sandwich is as close to perfection as we will see in this lifetime. Enjoy! Visit your favorite deli, sandwich shop, or kitchen soon! But most of all tell the chef or cook you love them!

Posted in Food | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment

Dead Bird

Posted on May 9, 2009 by Ruth Marie Oliver

Friday morning I visited Space Camp to check on graduation and such. I visited the Davidson Center, aka the building with the really big rocket! At that time I did not know that there was a moon walker on property. I discovered that Harrison Schmitt was visiting camp while I visited the counselors.

Marcia was making her rounds and reminding the staff no sunglasses, ball caps, chewing gum, or autographs. This tipped me off that there was a VIP in the building. Oh, Harrison Schmitt twelfth man on the moon is at SPACE CAMP? I needed to talk to Marcia about an issue but she being the mover and shaker of camp I had to walk with her. We went though the Saturn hall, below stage one and part of stage two, out the side door, and down the ramp. Half way down the ramp there was a dead blue bird, cute bird, but dead bird. It needed to be picked up so no little kid would see the cute bird dead on the ground.

I picked the bird up and tossed him into the trash can. My plan was to leave after talking to Marcia. Now that I had touched a dead blue bird I must wash my hands. Bird Flu is much worse than Piggly Wiggly Flu. So, I diverted to the ladies room by the front ticket desk in the DC. I located the sink, soap, sang my ABCs and out the door I went. Outside I saw Cliff and Harrison Schmitt. This is the point where I meet Harrison Schmitt, twelfth man on the moon and only geologist to walk on the surface of the moon.

I would have been long gone if I didn’t pick up the dead blue bird. I have always thought I was a lucky girl. I have met five of the twelve men who walk on the lunar surface, drank beer with many astronauts, and have a way cool job! But because I picked up a filthy dead bird I would not have met an Apollo astronaut. It is just like Oceans 12 or 13… “You shook hands with Sintra. You should have known better!” For a space geek, shaking hands with a moon walker is the ultimate geek fix.

The moral of the story is the next time there is a not so enjoyable task in front of you, accept the challenge. Do the disgusting task, who knows what will be around the corner or outside of the bathroom. Mike Rowe of “Dirty Jobs” will agree with me. Stinky, dirty, rotten, filthy, or grimy jobs lead to an enjoyable life. I love my life and I am morning the life of my dead bird friend, but I will accept all challenges ahead of me. Both the clean and the dirty ones!

Posted in Camp | Tagged , | 1 Comment

The Farm

Posted on April 23, 2009 by Ruth Marie Oliver

On Friday morning I woke up shouting “We’re going to the FARM!” This did not make the husband or dog very happy. But I was so excited to be on my way to Carroll County, Mississippi. Going to the farm meant visiting family, a crawfish boil, riding 4-wheelers, and shooting fire arms! The farm is better than any amusement or vacation destination. It is the Disneyland of Central Mississippi. It would be comparable to Disney World, but it is only one park, The Farm!

There really is something great about going home. Winona has changed a lot since I left for college and even since I moved to Huntsville. But home is what makes me who I am. You know, the stubborn, red headed, tomboy who doesn’t mind getting dirty or arguing from any point of view. I love getting dirty and playing poker. I can’t do justice to last weekend’s journey to the farm in my blog, but I will give it a try. The best way to understand life on my family’s farm is to just come for a visit one day.

From shouting at the top of my lungs to the drive down the Natchez Trace and stopping for crab boil in Tupelo we arrived at the hill close to two o’clock in the afternoon. It was perfectly timed for an afternoon snack of left over mac-n-cheese and prime rib. Not your typical snack, but Big Momma’s kitchen is always open. We did have to limit ourselves, because we had plans for “the Mexican restaurant” for dinner. It’s real name is something like El Cabrito but I never hear it called that around town. My mom had the El Big-o margarita and lots of cheese dip. Cheese dip and guacamole has become a family tradition.

Saturday morning was another adventure. Chris needed food so we stopped at Sonic before the coach pitch practice baseball game. Really, isn’t coach pitching baseball practice in the first place? Well the credit call machine at Sonic was down, so we had to give our only real dollars to the lady at Sonic. Needless to say we were late to the game, because our only real dollars were earmarked for the ball park. Game was good, but I wouldn’t have the patience to coach at that level. God bless those daddies!

Post game Edie and Mary Beth arrived in Winona for a warm up to the Camp of the Rising Son Mega Reunion in July with our own CRS mini reunion. We even had a ride on a gator. It wasn’t Babe-the-blue-airport-tug-converted-to-a-camper-hauler, but it was fun! We chatted and reminisced about our days as Chiefs. We plan to form the winning team for the first Camp Stew Cook Off! Iron Chef watch out, new series coming to Food Network, Iron Chief!

Late afternoon we had to clean mud bugs for the crawfish boil that night. My favorite part of this afternoon was shooting my new cowboy gun and teaching Lucy to pick up the dirty little crawfish. Fun! We even let Lucy and Reece shoot the cowboy gun. There was some excitement when Reece accidentally shut Lucy’s hand in the truck door. It was a scary moment, but I think all is good now and no broken bones. The crawfish was really good that evening. We eat it at the shop with the roll up door open on a home made crawfish table. Such good food! We finished the night with a little poker where I invested money into the Winona economy. Life is fun and simple on the farm. I love my time there.

Sunday we had to do some real work. Teach my parents how to use their new computer and patch up their old computer. This was fun and frustrating. We had to leave after lunch. That was the toughest part. I am sure I would be bored living in Winona, but I sometimes wish I lived there. It is a fun place where everyone is welcome.

Posted in Mississippi | Tagged , , | 1 Comment

Ode to the Raptor

Posted on April 9, 2009 by Ruth Marie Oliver

Oh, how I love thee, let me count the ways… The Raptor is our camp van. It is a 1997 Ford Aerostar mini-van. It was originally Aviation Challenge California’s van before making the trek to Huntsville, Alabama. There are many wonderful stories about the Raptor. I am sure many campers and staff have their favorite one. There have been countless trips to sick bay made by the Raptor. There is even the occasional off road adventure after a heavy rain. Some of my favorite memories include nugget counselors running out of gas in front of the Marriott. No matter what, the Raptor is apart of Aviation Challenge.

Raptor (1997)It is currently parked in lot behind the O’Club with 136,565 miles on the odometer. The paint has faded and the decals are coming off. There is a leak in the seal of the windshield. This condition has created the perfect environment for moss to grow on the upholstery liner of the van. Yes, green growing moss. The Raptor smells of mud, mildew, and smelly kids. There is a faded VF-101 Grim Reaper sticker on the back glass. And along the side is the old web address and toll free phone number for AC California. Do we care about the Raptor’s looks? Of course not, we love her just the way she is.

Cornbread has an odd fascination with the van. Once on a late night med run she threw a kid out of the van and forced him to walk back to Hab3 for calling the van “Craptor”. This is an exaggeration of course, but she did get angry at the young man. There have been many nick names for the beast. She got Raptor because of the F-22 decal on the side. Cornbread loves the van so much that many nights she takes the keys home with her. One day during Be Ready Camp, I had to visit her at Morris Elementary to retrieve the key.

There is a combination to its sliding door. You can’t slam the door shut or you will never get the door open again. To open you must have the passenger door slammed twice before pulling the door handle. Last summer when there wasn’t an inside handle we had to open through the sliding window. This van is special!!! There has been many kids get stuck in the back because the door jammed. It does have special features. Like the radio controls for back seat passengers. This comes in handy freaking out newbie drivers. They think the radio is possessed by demons. Which really wouldn’t surprise anyone, but it is just the smarty counselors goofin’ off.

My favorite Raptor memory is not just one. We have a tradition at the lake. If everyone is on time on Friday mornings and we get everything set up for graduation. The support staff and I will load up in the Raptor and go to Burger King for breakfast. It doesn’t matter how many of us there are, we all go. Never leave a man behind!!! This tradition was started when Snowflake and Forecast went to Denny’s before graduation. They didn’t come back! Since then I won’t allow staff to leave site on Friday mornings unless I am with them.

There really are so many great stories about the Raptor. Next week it will spend some time getting a tune up. Not to worry, I am sure the moss will still be there this summer. There will be many trips to sick bay yet to come for the old van. There is not a summer that goes by we don’t have a vomiting kid, tics to be removed, or an afternoon dose of Adderall XR. I just hope the Raptor is nominated for the Space Camp Hall of Fame next year.

Posted in Camp | Tagged , , | Comments Off on Ode to the Raptor

Khaki & Blue Memories

Posted on April 1, 2009 by Ruth Marie Oliver

Recently the Space Camp managers have moved from white shirt to light blue shirts. Being a red head, I couldn’t be happier about the change! But now that I wear a blue oxford shirt with khakis I am reminded of my grandfather’s standard dress code. He would work at his gin or drive his tractor Ford tractor in khakis and a long sleeve blue oxford. This has flooded me with memories.

Some memories are more vivid and fresh in your mind than others. When I remember my grandfather’s gin it is almost like I was transported back in time to my youth. It is so clear in my head. The sights, the sounds, the smell fill my head and tears come to my eyes at times. I loved those days visiting my grandparents and watching the world go by.

My mother sometimes helped out at the gin keeping the books and running the office. I tagged along at times. Farmers and gin hands would come in and out of the cinder block office, so I had to stay out of the way. I never could go into the gin while it was running. The machinery and belts would chew me up and spit me out if I was not careful. I remember spending my time visiting, playing in the office, coloring, or getting dirty in the gin trash. Gin trash is all the leaves, twigs, cotton burrs and some seeds that are removed from the cotton fiber during the ginning process.

On the rare occasion that the gin would stop I could go in and explore. I remember a dusty, dirty, greasy place with machinery and pipes everywhere. I remember playing and sometimes climbing on things until my grandfather spotted me. He told me it was no place for a little girl. I might get dirty. Being the only granddaughter this was somewhat of a disappointment. But I did love visiting the office with my grandmother.

I remember her desk was next to the window. There were two metal files jammed under the window silll. This made a perfect slot to slip gin tags through the window. The cotton trailers and the bales of cotton were all tagged to keep track of which farmer produced which cotton. See cotton is graded after it leaves the gin. Scores are sent back to the farm, the better the cotton, the better the price. There were all sorts of buttons and knobs I could play with behind the desk. But most of the time, it was off limits to me. I could only go behind the desk to sharpen my pencil. When I got a little older, my mother and grandmother would let me write down some of the weights in the ledger.

The office had such a great smell. It was a blend of cotton defoliant, black coffee, dust, and Pine-sol. I know you think that is an odd combination, but I remember the smell. Since I moved to Huntsville, I have heard people complain of the smell of cotton defoliant. But it is an intoxicating smell to me. It reminds me of growing up. It is the smell of fall to me. I remember countless trips to the gin and hundreds of rounds on the cotton picker with my Daddy. It is definitely strange how strong scent is in relationship to memories.

My stomach also has a strong relationship to my memories. On days that I would visit afterschool I would snack on left over biscuits, sausage, or ham. In the center drawer of the office desk was a stash of quarters. If I was good my grandmother would give me two. Just outside of the office was a drink machine which worked extra hard to keep the drinks cold. I loved getting a Sunkist or Coca-Cola that was almost frozen. It had little flakes of ice in them. My grandmother was known for her sweets. My favorite was her soda box cookies. She even taught me how to make the delicate cookies.

I have so many memories of my Gran and Ga-Ga around the gin. My cousins and I are now all grown up. My brother is the farmer, Sandy is the rebel, Russell is an architect, and his brother Dustin will be getting married this spring. One of my favorite pictures is all of us sitting on top of cotton bales outside the gin. I will always remember my grandmother behind the desk and my grandfather watching over the gin near the seed stand. He always wore a blue long sleeve oxford shirt with khakis.

Today while I was at work, I looked in the mirror and chuckled. I thought what do Space Camp and Land & Lott Gin have in common? The dress code! It is funny how life and khakis remind you of the past. I miss the gin and my grandparents.

Posted in Mississippi | Tagged , , , | Comments Off on Khaki & Blue Memories

1388 – 2/HB

Posted on March 6, 2009 by Ruth Marie Oliver

On the corner of my desk sits a coffee mug with a variety of writing utensils, a pair of scissors, various paper clips, an x-acto knife, and a glitter wand. If you are ADHD you will pick up my glitter wand and play with it, but it isn’t that great. I have a fetish with knives and cutting utensils, but I am not going to write about those things. My large banker’s clips are very useful. If you are a teacher, I suggest you purchase some, but they aren’t that important to me. I am not a coffee drinker and probably never will be one. However, my coffee mug is dear to me, because it is the guardian and protector of my Dixon Ticonderoga pencils.

When I taught school, I was privileged enough to spend my days and weeks with hyper active, over caffeinated, hormone driven middle school students. Yes my students were lucky to have me as well. The most overly dramatic years of a student’s life… and they had me, the obsessive organizer and math teacher. Everything in my class was color coded or classified into multiple different categories. If it could not be classified and organized, it was not found in my classroom. I had two types of pencils, public pencils – anything found on the floor, left after class or purchased at Dollar General, and private pencils – my Dixon Ticonderoga. Those were for my use only.

If I saw a student using one of my pencils I would chop off their germ covered hand. I once received an email from a parent asking where to purchase these wonderful yellow and green pencils with the excellent pink erasers. It wasn’t long after that I noticed many students using the best pencil in the world to do their homework. Some kids didn’t use them for their homework citing that they were only for geeks. I told them that was most likely true, but the kids they called geeks in middle school would later become their bosses. The geeks shall inherit the earth!

I was greatly depressed my first fall after leaving the classroom. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I didn’t have an electric pencil sharper and a cup full of pencils on my desk. Forget about molding the minds of American’s youth. I missed my pencils. I drove to Staples on a rainy October day and purchased two dozen Dixon Ticonderogas, model number 1388-2/HB. I sharpened the first box as soon as I arrived back at my desk. I don’t think I have been without a Dixon since that faithful day.

I have a diverse collection of pencils and they all have two things in common. They are all number 2 pencils and are Dixons. I have the “Tri-Write” which has a triangle wood casing and is very comfy, “My First Ticonderoga” which is oversized for small hands and the original hexagonal pencil. I even have five electric pencil sharpeners. One sharpener is battery powered for travel and journaling in foreign countries. My favorite sharpener has ten setting for different diameters of pencils.

There are not many days you will find me without a pencil tucked behind my ear. During the summer, staff members can judge how well the day is going if I have one or two tucked behind my ear. There once was a day so bad I had three jammed behind my ears, two on one side and one on the other. Last spring in a trendy Boston bar I was told I was too cool to have a pencil behind my ear. I told him the geeks shall inherit the earth. There was another time I had to explain to an astronaut over dinner what made a Dixon Ticonderoga so special. But pencils are handy to have around and I think that is why God gave us ears, to tuck pencils behind them.

I am so passionate about my Dixon Ticonderogas that I use them in a presentation each spring during counselor training. Most of the staff knows me as the pencil lady from that point forward. I have converted many staff members to writing with Dixons. Some people know more about pencils than they do about the dress code at Space Camp. They simply didn’t know how great the pencils are. There has been some staff known to break into my office and grind down the pencils to little nubs of wood. That is just mean to me and the pencils. It is a waste of good graphite.

I have read many blogs and web articles proclaiming the greatness of the Dixon Ticonderoga. I have been a disciple of the companies’ products. But it is not just because they look cool in my coffee mug. The pencils remind me of growing up in Mississippi. My mom would force me to sharpen my pencil when dull. So I learned that a Ticonderoga would hold a point longer. To irritate mom I would go weeks without sharpening it. I hated to study for spelling tests, and I was forced to write my spelling words twice as many times required by my teachers. Each week my trusty Dixon Ticonderoga would aid me in my studies.

My senior year of high school I used one Ticonderoga for my advanced math class work. From day one till graduation it was my companion. It was short and eraser less. Classmates asked me why the same pencil. I answered, “It knows all the correct answers.” It should have at least, because it had practiced every problem for home work. Some called me a geek, but you know my answer. The geeks shall inherit the earth.

There are so many memories and stories in a coffee mug. From my mom showing how much she loved me by buying me a quality pencil to missing the class room in October of 2003, I love my pencil obsession. I love the smell of a freshly sharpened box and the way eraser rubbings smell on note book paper. I love telling people how great the yellow and green pencils are and shouting in a dark theater when I see a Dixon. But most of all, I like being a geek about my pencils. So often in a world flooded by the newest, latest, greatest, fashion trend, diet pill, or electronic device, I can be different and like something as low tech as a pencil. I don’t have to be Brittney Spears or Hannah Montana to be cool, because the geeks, even the pencil geeks, shall inherit the earth.

Posted in Pencils | Tagged , | 3 Comments

Call Signs

Posted on February 27, 2009 by Ruth Marie Oliver

Growing up I always wanted a nick name. With a double name like Ruth Marie life is made difficult in the 80s. Most girls only had one name and many pops stars didn’t even have a last name. So I was out of the cool circle. Many people didn’t get the Ruth Marie thing; I was either Ruth Ann or Rose Marie. Heck, my current boss called me Rose for the first six months I work at Space Camp. I tried dropping the Marie, but Ruth wasn’t much better. It was plain, only four letters. I shared my name with old ladies and a dead baseball player. I couldn’t have had a plainer duller name unless it was Pat.

I longed for the day to be cool enough to have a nick name. I am resigned to the fact that, that day will never come. But I do have a call sign. It is a little different, but you don’t have to be cool to have a call sign. The call sign itself is cool. Call signs are typically used in the military and pilot world. The rules are you are issued or assigned a call sign, if you don’t like it, tough! If you whine about it, you will be given an even more unpleasant one. You have no say in your call sign and if you think you can give yourself a call sign, you will be given Pookie.

It took me a long time to earn a call sign that would stick, heck at one point they wanted to call me Teflon. Crosswind, Staple, Pencil, Scully, and Ping were some of the others issued to me during my tenure at Aviation Challenge, a realistic military aviation experience. I received my current call sign in March of 2007 after my first season training the Space Camp counselors. But it wasn’t until September of that year that it officially stuck. Be Ready Camp 2 was the glue!!! I am so proud of my call sign. I smile on the inside each time someone calls me Red Bull.

I am Red Bull because during counselor graduation I give out the wings. Counselor graduation is very special to me. I remember getting my wings as a camper; I thought they were the coolest thing in the whole wide world. When I became a counselor, they didn’t just give them to us, they pinned them on our collar. I always try to duplicate that in counselor graduations. In 2007 following graduation one of the new staff said my call sign should be changed to Red Bull, because “Red Bull gives you wings.” WOW, something that makes sense. I have red hair and I give out wings. A perfect match and since some people think I am bull headed that can be included too.

Everyone has a story behind how they earned their call sign. Chris, my husband, falls asleep all the time; during his stent at AC he earned Gordo, because Gordo Cooper fell asleep waiting to launch during the Mercury Project. Snapper got her call sign call because she snapped at all of us during counselor training. Biscuit is so skinny that she should and could eat more biscuits. It was either that or Lunchbox. Dumpy was a tall lanky guy who worked my first summer. I love Dumpy! Divot loved golf, and it was random, just like him. But all I remember is when we gave him Divot as a call sign we were standing next to the dumpster. I wanted to call him dumpster.

A lot of counselors come to camp and their call signs stick so well that I don’t know their real name. They are forever called Crash, Speed Bump, Safety, or Summit! There are others whose call signs don’t stick like Marlon or Kim. If your call sign sticks you don’t want me calling you by the name your momma gave you. Staff have noticed I have a tell. The staff can read if I am angry by which name I call them by. If I call you by the name on your birth certificate or the one on the waist band of your underwear, I am most likely mad at you or you have done something heinous. Something bigger and more severe than you are out of dress code.

Gordo has even been given an additional call sign. Most of the AC staff thinks his call sign is Punkin, but that is just what I call him. I have told them, I never met Gordo; I most likely would not like the guy. But when I meet Chris he was a sweet man and Punkin is my loving husband. See how fun call signs can be!

So know I have another name other than the one my momma gave me. It too is a double name. Call signs are a great thing. They are one of the benefits of working at a camp and one of those things that make you smile on the inside. You can call me whatever you like, but please don’t call me Rose or Ruth Ann. I might go Red Bull on you!

Posted in Camp | Tagged , , | 2 Comments

Plumber App

Posted on February 18, 2009 by Ruth Marie Oliver

Never call me to be your plumber. This afternoon I tried to fix my leaky faucet. This is an epic tale of stupidity, rushing water, and fatigued belly dancing abs. I felt very confident in my repair skills. Heck, I walked into Lowe’s wearing my Carhart jacket – my iPhone. Yes, any sales associate that met me would either think I was a knowledgeable do-it-yourself kind of girl or an American Leaguer. But I didn’t need any help finding the part I needed to fix my leaky faucet. This only increased my over inflated ego. Imagine if Maverick had to fix a faucet in the officer’s quarters… “You never close your eyes any more.” Yes, that was my stupidity. Goose should have fixed the faucets, not Maverick.

So purchase the parts at Lowe’s with no help, arrive at the Willow Creek Estates, and confidently fix the facet. Everything went great, easy peasy rice and cheesy!!! But wait, in my hour of victory I realized that my hot water faucet was not symmetrical with my cold water facet, GREAT SCOTT!!! Visualize the water spout in the twelve o’clock position. Now the cold water facet is perpendicular to the water spout while the hot water faucet is at an obtuse angle to the water spout. I need my right angles. This is not acceptable to Red Bull!!!!

I leave it alone to grab some food. In my darkest hour, I get bored and call Charity. No, boredom did not lead me to Charity, my husband lead me to boredom. While chatting with her I get the brilliant/not so brilliant idea to twist the facet mount in hopes of realigning it. I go in there very willy nilly with my Twisted Taco plastic cup in one hand and my Motorola Razor in the other. I start twisting with the crescent wrench and just as I get it to move I think, “Shouldn’t I have turned off the water.” I have never seen Old Faithful, but the geyser that was my bath tub would rival most any.

I dropped the phone while talking to Charity. She was working at Thomas Kinkade. I rapidly found relief and turned off the water. I know how to re-fix my faucet, because I get inventive. Yes, I screwed up. I used my phone once more before it seized up and died. Yes, the water has gotten the best of my phone. Now I am left with an antique rotary dial phone and my once useful Motorola Razor dead. I tried using my hair dryer on the black beast. But I couldn’t revive her. Long live my cell phone.

Funny thing is, I got my Carhart jacket in lieu of an iPhone. Now with the death of my Razor, my fingers are crossed. But I am not done with this story. I looked Thomas Kinkade’s number up online. I wanted to reassure Charity that I didn’t die in a horrific bathroom accident. I told her of my stupidity and boredom. She laughed and giggled until her abs hurt. See her abs have been in hibernation. She is now taking belly dancing and they are a little sore. She chuckled at me while my friends online knew this would make it to the blog someday.

I love my blog, but I hate cleaning up water. There is water on all four walls, the ceiling and the floor. I am soaked from head to toe and my dog thinks I am an idiot. The moral of this story is, never do plumbing while chatting on your Razor. It will be easier with an iPhone. There is after all, an application for plumbing on the iPhone.

Posted in Etc. | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments

Blue Light Special

Posted on February 10, 2009 by Ruth Marie Oliver

Growing up I loved watching the movie Smokey and the Bandit. The Bandit would play an elaborate game of hide and seek with Sheriff Buford T. Justice as Cledus bootlegged something cross country. My life is similar to the Bandit’s in that I have had many encounters with the local, state, and federal law enforcement officers. Let’s say I love getting places in a timely fashion, and America’s finest like to keep an eye on me.

I have a long list of blue light stories, countless stories of me doing something stupid or simply speeding. I am sure I could write a book or entertain you for hours with roadside stories of me and a police officer chatting. David Letterman contacted me a few years back for a top ten list, but there was no way I could cut the list to just ten. ESPN wanted to do a highlight segment, but Texas State Police didn’t want to release some of the footage. I inadvertently made the blooper reel of America’s Most Wanted once in Kentucky.

Joking aside, safety should always be your first focus on the road. If you are not using a mobile device while driving to read this blog, please enjoy a laugh on me with one of my favorite blue light stories.

If you have ever traveled along U.S. 61 or U.S. 49 through the Mississippi Delta you will know that it is easy to move fast like a bunny rabbit. Most Delta roads are flat and straight. A driver can see all the way to the Mississippi river levee on a clear day. A driver can break a variety of land speed records if a tractor or cotton trailer doesn’t get in your way. Being a graduate of Delta State University I know first hand how the flatlands can lull a driver into a supersonic trance. I have many, but I think the following is the best.

I was on my way to my dad in the field with a part for his cotton picker. I was driving my silver Pontiac on a clear day. I don’t remember how fast I was going but it had to have been close to Mach 1 based to what the trooper said to me. Once I saw his bright blue flashing lights I knew that today wasn’t my lucky day.

The trooper waddled his way to my window and with a thick drawl said, “Missy I am going to need to see your pilot’s license because you were flying back there.” Being the smarty pants that I am, I reached in my flight bag, pulled out my pilot’s log, and handed the trooper my FAA private pilot’s license. He chuckled like Santa Claus and left me to sweat in my car for a few minutes as he retreated to his car. As he walked slowly he only had my driver’s license in his hand. The officer let me off the hook for my speeding. However, he strongly encouraged me to follow the posted speed limit on the ground.

Since then I have had many other blue light stories. But in all of my stores I was at fault. Sometimes I received tickets and sometimes I was let off the hook. But each time officers were doing their job to keep people safe. Whenever we are running late, worried about time, or just foolishly speeding we are putting ourselves and others in dangers. I can chuckle about some of these stories, but if there was an accident where someone was injured there would not be any laughs. Drive safe, follow the laws, and buckle up!

Posted in Adventures | Tagged , , | Comments Off on Blue Light Special

Associate Discount

Posted on February 4, 2009 by Ruth Marie Oliver

We all dream of what we will do to make money when we grow up. I dreamed of being an astronaut, architect, or teacher. Growing up, I never dreamed of working in a retail store. But the winding road that is my life did lead me to the Barn, a store in the Williams-Sonoma family.

Not being a mall rat by nature, I would get the question, “why work at the Barn?” Just as everything in my life, the answer is not simple. Once Chris and I started dating, I did fall in love with furniture shopping, but I wouldn’t consider the Barn a furniture store. I would classify it as home furnishings. My time at PB started in September of 2003. I had just started a new job at Space Camp. The first days and weeks were so slow and boring. So to pass the time I applied to work at PB 745.

I was single and they were just opening. My first day on the job there wasn’t even a store to report to. I remember assembling the shelves in the stock room and display racks on the sales floor. From those first days with little to no stock in the store till yesterday, where I helped out with the store inventory, I truly enjoyed the people I worked along side. I have learned about leadership, marketing, world class service, and hard work.

I remember helping guests with items as cheap as a dollar or as expensive as furniture or a dinning room table. But I didn’t care about how much I sold in a shift. I did care if I was helpful or if the guests were greeted warmly by me. I tried to answer all the questions asked of me. I never made up an answer or knowingly misled a customer about a product. My favorite thing was to offer gift ideas to guests during the holiday season. I simply loved to help make someone’s day less stressful.

For some of my friends they didn’t see how I could work a second job at the Barn. One friend asked how I could go from working in a job where I was in charge and had control to a job where I simply opened boxes, organized shelves, or swept the floors. It is a simple answer still today, I love helping. I felt if I helped to opened boxes, organize the product and get the items to the sales floor I helped the floor associates provide service and the guests find what they wanted. Working in a job that isn’t about me is where I get the most reward.

My life as a Barn associate did last longer than I ever planned it would. Last summer I left after more than four years. Monday, I visited the story as a temporary employee just for the day. I guess that is what temporary means. I loved my time there. Counting and joking with my friends was better than any day off spent at a spa or hanging by a pool. I just hope my time at PB isn’t over forever, because it isn’t about the forty percent discount, it is about helping our guests and working with friends like Stephanie, Adam, and John… Dumpy!

Posted in Barn | Tagged | Comments Off on Associate Discount