Friday, February 26, 2010

Journal of a Living Lady #366

Nancy White Kelly

Leather and lace. Is that an oxymoron or an example of material incongruence? Probably both.

Guns and curls reflect my personality which can run the gamut from seriously somber to insanely silly. Today I perpetuated that persona. I got a permanent at the beauty shop and a gun permit from the court house.

I enjoy being a girl, but I learned early on to hold my own among the guys. I had three brothers and no sister until the month I graduated from high school.

My oldest brother Charles and I wrestled, spit watermelon seeds, threw rocks and exchanged blows frequently while growing up. Charles wasn’t going to let his closest sibling be too girly. It was the era that Daddies worked, Mamas stayed home, and the kids played outside until dark.
Charles kept me busy doing his favorites things: street skating, hide-n-seek, and cork ball. We even played backyard football. That was until my Daddy snatched me out of a touch game at the age of twelve. He threatened my life if he ever caught me displaying my quarterback skills with the boys again. I didn’t understand then. I do now.

Nevertheless, my macho brother taught me many guy things. Thanks to him I can ride a motorcycle, gig frogs, and yes, even shoot a gun. Charles has killed hundreds of deer in his lifetime. I married my dear.

While Buddy is not an avid hunter, he is adamant about being capable of defending oneself. Our older son Charlie had his black belt at the age of twelve.

It wouldn’t behoove any evil-doer to attempt doing me harm. While a baseball bat is my weapon of choice, Buddy insists I keep my gun handy in the Ye Old Coin Shop. He vigilantly watches customers via a remote camera. If I couldn’t shoot an assailant, assuredly Buddy would.

And if Buddy or Charlie were not around, I take comfort that Rocky, our German shepherd, would protect me. His teeth can rip through leather. Any attacker had better guard his throat. It’s nice to be so loved.

Here I am in my twilight years wearing gray-tinged curls and packing heat. Reminds me of President Theodore Roosevelt’s famous quote,” Speak softly and carry a big stick.”

I enjoy being a lady and living. I have waylaid cancer and escaped hospice twice. They don’t call me the Living Lady for nothing.

1 comment:

Bob Cleveland said...

I always admired my Aunt Carrie, who lived on a farm. She once shot a weasel, which was under the henhouse, between the eyes at 30 yards, with a .22 once.

She also beat a rampaging bull on the snout with a shotgun, when it jammed, after the bull had gored my uncle. She'd drag Clyde, beat on the bull, then drag Clyde some more.

Until she got him to the gate where Clyde's brother, who opened the gate for her, stood petrified by fear.

Shoot straight, Auntie Nancy.