jo burgess hannon

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What I long for…

November 19, 2018 by Jo Leave a Comment

The Smoker  Cigarette Man  Marlboro Man?

 

1)… photo memories of my childhood.

I still have a box, a large box, of photos from my mom.  Several times, I have pulled it out, dug through, tried to add some sense of organization to the heap of undated and unmarked photos, mailed off items to brothers, family and then closed the lid. There are so many people in the box I do not know and I am running out of old people to ask.  My daughter will end up throwing them out if I don’t first because, and I know this is obvious but am stating it more as a personal reminder, she won’t know the faces either.

As I mentally sift through my childhood memories, writing stories here on the blog I often wish I could find a photo of one thing or another.  I only have a few photos of immediate family, pictures that include me.  The box is full of faces I do not recognize, like Cigarette Man.  I remembered the swagger emanating from this particular pic when I first ran across it and decided I might add it to a gallery wall. Doesn’t he make smoking look cool?  So when I dug back through the box for Cigarette Man…my Auntie Dee thinks he might be my Uncle Chuck Bertsfield… I found this:

I know, its blurry, eyes are closed, not a very good picture.  Its crooked and for a hot minute I edited it so the paneling was straight, but then the phone was cut out and the memory of having a phone permanently attached to the wall seems an important part life in the 70’s.  It captures me, my childhood, happily barefoot, in a dress my mom had sewn from a few yards of clearance fabric, with grand parents I dearly loved for how they poured joy into my life.

Side note:  I don’t actually think smoking is cool. I watched my dad die from throat cancer.

 

2)…to make the right decision.

Ever pick the wrong paint color, choose the wrong words in a discussion, question your last hour, day, week?  I can lay awake nights re-running the conversation gone wrong. It feels so good to make the right decision.  Honey and I stood over floor stain swatches being rubbed into the wood: after much patience by our contractor and 7 cans open and spread over freshly sanded floor boards, we left it.  Dan Nation of Tru Finish repeated several times we should take our time picking the color that would cover the entire main floor of our home.  Today, weeks later, I am still happy with the choice made. The color is just what I imagined: dark, but not too dark. Brown but not absorbing all the grain.  Perfect.

Another Side Note: So glad I made the right decision not to smoke, even though I grew up in a house with 6 smokers.  I think it was because I was the one who constantly emptied overflowing ashtrays. Or maybe it was because I burned myself with a cigarette?

 

3)…to find the right pair of socks.

I have cold feet.  My feet sweat.  I get blisters from even comfortable, well worn shoes.  Is it the shoes, is it the socks? The sock quest continues.

And, is it just possible I’m related to the original  Marlboro Man?

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The starting line and more questions

August 4, 2018 by Jo Leave a Comment

 

Ever since I was a little kid, participating in end of school year races,  officially called Field Day, I wanted to win.  Somewhere there was (is?) a photo of me on my 10th birthday, my mom had baked 4 sheet cakes and made me this giant birthday cake for all the 4, 5, and 6 graders.  It was embarrassing and awesome all at once. I won a lot of ribbons sprinting.  I was probably good at it because most of childhood included hours chasing, and running from, my brothers.

Question 1: Ever spent hours down THAT rabbit hole searching for the one perfect picture, only to surface hours later empty handed, head swimming in the past?

Question 2: Turning double nickels this last spring,   I find sometimes it is hard to admit that I don’t have answers to all the questions I hear internally and externally. Is it a personality trait or stubbornness or just human nature?

And still, there is a starting line.  I find myself over and over again, right toe forward smudged into the chalk line drawn in the grass, shoulders leaning forward waiting for the beginning, only to realize that I am always at the beginning.  Right here, right now I have a new start. I am anxious and nervous to remind myself, “I am a beginner. This is a new situation with the individuals in front of me, it is ok that I don’t have answers to the questions swirling in my head. There is always room for a new 1st time.”

I can be a beginner.

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Family dinner and saying “come on in”

June 11, 2018 by Jo 1 Comment

Celebrating a friend’s milestone

 

Hospitality is not a house inspection, it’s friendship, it’s family.

Struggle is real. I often run through my childhood memories to understand reactions and feelings of current experiences. For many years after Honey and I were married I was so nervous having people over.  Ask Honey, I would kind of freak out if someone was going to drop off a book. He would mention someone was stopping by and I was clearing counters, checking the bathroom for cleanliness and sometimes even mopping the floor. Just so someone could stand in the front entrance and I would feel comfortable, but not comfortable at all.

What I realized is from about age 10 on, my mom and dad mostly quit inviting people into our home.  More on that another time and the brokenness inside the walls of the home I grew up. I just did not learn how to welcome people into my personal space. Even having family over felt like I had to prove something and have everything perfect.

Anyway, what I learned after we starting having groups in for a get together, that it is pointless to mop the floor before everyone arrives.  Sure, pull out the broom and sweep.  But full on water bucket and mop might be pointless.  First, no one ever comes in inspecting how clean the floor might be: instead they are wondering about where to set their purse, If they should take their shoes off, where the plug-in is for phone charging, checking out the snacks on the kitchen counter.  For the record, I am kind of a neat-nick and most likely the floor is pretty clean anyway.

And then I saw my mom-in-law, sister-in-laws, family, extended family, girlfriends saying come in, come over, stop by. And I wanted to be that person.

And ALWAYS the floor needs to be mopped the next day.

 

or, she thought maybe she could, so she did

 

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Boys will be Boys

February 3, 2018 by Jo 2 Comments

My childhood home

 

I jumped into a Facebook chain recently started by a high school friend of my brother. It was a two sentence, derogatory, public statement that threw shade on said brother. Comments built in the feed that included much Loop bravado. I added to the mix, initially being the only female to participate, and was quickly directed to ‘calm down.’

I’ve always been proud of the road were I grew up. Being a Loop kid has anchored me in a way maybe only others from the ‘hood would understand. We knew everybody, everybody knew us. My older brothers had a least 10 different friends from our street. When you grow up with so many boys, (because where there are 4 boys, there is always an extra at the dinner table, one sleeping on the coach, or 5 more playing pool in the basement) you learn to relate on a male level.

Guys let things go. They can be yelling at each other, maybe even throwing a few punches and then moments later start back to playing Monopoly. Mean things can be said without judgment; maybe even soliciting verbal applause for being spoke out loud. Other fellas can pile on to the onslaught of callous banter and relationships still stay intact.

In some ways, I was surprised at the Facebook scolding. Why couldn’t I bluster a little? It was like I was back in 1978 instead of 2018; 2018 where women are encouraged speak their mind, tell some truth.

Side note: It’s not always a positive to live in such a close-knit community. The summer I was 13 I came down with mononucleosis. Is Mono still called the kissing disease?  The 14-year-old boy a ½ block away came down with the same thing. STILL NO, Craig and I never locked lips.

EW. Double EW.

Anyway, It’s going to take more than a hashtag # for stereotypes, biases and knee jerk reactions to change. Men and women: we think differently. After years of being in the power position, telling a woman to calm down (is that just a nice way of saying ‘shut up’?) while continuing to let the men carry on the conversation comes naturally.

 

 

 

 

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Daughter of a truck driver who married a doctor's kid. Life, stories and attempting to age with grace.

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