Saturday, September 12, 2015

9 - 11 - 2015

Like most Americans, I find it difficult to talk about the events of September 11, 2001. It always stuns me that so many years have passed. Yet, when I watch a news report or read tributes, it seems like it just happened. It's a beautiful sunny day here in Columbia, just as it was that gut wrenching morning 14 years ago. We’ve never really had a chance to heal as a nation and as a people because the terrorism continues, the American soldiers keep coming home for burial or facing lifetimes of brutal injuries, both physical and mental. We civilians have to live with the seemingly constant threat of what will be tried next. We're doing a better job of getting on with our lives. (I just knocked on wood.) We constantly search for ways to honor the men and women who serve so bravely to protect us. Being a patriot is very popular and I might add that it should not be political.
I am a "flag girl." I love that American stars and stripes. I have one very tall flag pole in our yard and fly a big flag almost year round. I have a flag for special days that I fly off our deck. I know how to properly fold a flag. My Daddy taught me how a very long time ago. Flying the flag is a great way to teach your grandchildren about history. They want to know why you are flying it on certain days and eventually they start remembering and remind you to do it. It's rewarding and brings me to the very first thought that I had this morning when I woke up, knowing that it is September 11.
On that day, my son, Christopher and I had big plans. The plans were put on hold for a few hours. He came to our home and tried to comfort me. He was upset too but we both knew that we needed to leave the house and stop watching the TV for a few hours. We went to lunch but the grief was everywhere. So we decided to do what we were supposed to do. This morning I remembered that today was the day Christopher was going to paint the nursery for our precious Anna! She was due in January. I was going to stencil clouds and butterflies all around the top of the walls. His first child and our first grandchild. So we did just that. It has been the nursery for Anna, Brooke and Jack. Two years ago, Anna and Brooke changed the room and it was painted hot pink, fluorescent green and turquoise! Very girly and wonderful. Up in one corner of their room is a strip that wasn't painted. Its fluffy clouds and butterflies stenciled on their wall. You see, they didn't want to forget what I did that day to their room. Just like we don't want to forget what happened to our country and the people who died that sunny day in New York, Washington D.C. and Shanksville, Pennsylvania. 
It's nice to think about white clouds and butterflies on the morning of September 11. As a matter of fact, it's a blessing. It gives me hope. It brings me peace.
God Bless America, Land that I Love.

Sandra Carr Neely

09/11/2015

Saturday, February 7, 2015

Dear Daddy. From Your Girl, Sandra.


[I received requests to post the eulogy delivered at my Father's funeral.  So, please find my thoughts and feelings expressed below.  'Celebrating the Life of Harold Aubrey "Sandy" Carr -- 7/23/1926 - 1/6/2015'..........Sandra]

Dear Daddy. From Your Girl, Sandra.               

 

This is for:  My Daddy, your Heart & Soul, your Dad, your Grandfather, and your Great-Grandfather.

 

Harold Aubrey Carr, aka Sandy, was much more than an obituary could convey to the public.  Knowing this, I would like to tell all of you here today about the many roles our Dad played so well during his life.

 

I have expressed my love for Daddy many times over the years – publically and privately.  I am counting on God to let him see and hear me one more time.

 

The first thing that comes to mind is music.  He loved music:  Big Band, Frank, Jo Stafford, Tommy Dorsey and Glenn Miller.  I was singing this music at a very young age.  I loved it.  He would put my little feet on top of his and dance.  Did you know he was a great dancer?  I loved to come home when he was having his Nitro High School Class Reunion.  He and his class mates could dance like no other generation could.

 

I loved going with him when he taught and coached at Buffalo High School.  I started learning about football, basketball and baseball before I started school.  I loved watching him in his Buffalo t-shirt and Kangaroo boots.  I got to know his students and athletes.  One of the great testaments to my Daddy’s years as a teacher and coach were all “his boys” who repeatedly came to visit him over the years.  “Coach” was always home for “his boys.”  He took care of them beyond the classroom and playing field.  Those of you who are here today, who belong in this category, please know that he truly loved and cared for you.

 

The ‘60s came along.  Daddy move to George Washington Junior High where he taught and coached.  Yes, I had him for a class.  Yes, I earned that “A” – believe me.  He was always chaperoning dances and movies in the gym.  Mike and I suffered dearly with that situation.

 

Dad graduated from Marshall with his Master’s Degree in 1966 – his ceremony was the morning after my Senior Prom.  He would then go on to work for the Putnam County Board of Education.  He finished his career as Principal of Poca High School.

 

Most of you know that we lost our beloved Rebekah on August 29, 1967.  The nightmare continued as boys from Putnam County, serving in Viet Nam, started coming home in flagged-draped coffins.  Boys he had taught in school, coached on the field and even hired as Sleepy Hollow Life Guards.

 

He was a Navy Man.  He joined at the age of 16, with his classmates, during World War II.  He served on the USS-KA84 Waukesha.  He survived being on the assault ship and as one of the first to arrive in Nagasaki to clean up after the US bombed the city.

 

Like most Vets, he came home with the goal of resuming a normal life.  He went to Morris Harvey on the G.I. Bill.  He met a beautiful, young girl and the rest is truly history.

 

Grandchildren:  Christopher, Jonathan and Lindsay,  were lucky kids.  They grew up with a swimming pool and an instructor that was serious about teaching them to swim.  They all swim like fish.  He taught them to take care of the pool, too.  They had a few “history lessons” over the years.  I’m also aware of a few things he should not have taught them!  He had certain phrases and words that Christopher and Jonathan loved to say, and still do.

 

Great-Grandchildren:  Anna, Brooke and Jackson Bess – Austin and Alivia Lanham – Audrey and Colten Carr.  They are his legacy.  He has been ill most of their lives.  Mike, Christopher, Jonathan, Lindsey and I will honor his life and talk to them about PaPaw Carr.

 

I want to talk about a subject that I mentioned earlier – the great love affair between Marlane Crockett Carr and my Daddy.  Can you even imagine being married almost 68-years?  June 7, 1947, the eloped to Virginia and kept it a secret for several months.  My Grandmother Crockett found Mom’s wedding ring in a box of dusting powder.  When Daddy came to pick my Mother up for a movie date that evening, my Grandparents said that they  would like to talk to them when they returned.  Everyone knew what the subject would be. 

 

My PaPaw asked them if they were married.  Dad said “no.”  Mom said “yes.”  They had a “discussion.”  When it was over, Mom asked if Dad could spend the night.  My Grandparents said “no!”

 

My Mother has totally dedicated herself to my Daddy’s well-being.  His health issues mounted and she never wavered in her love and care for him.  She did everything to keep his dignity intact.  She has had a strong support team comprised of my brother, Mike; his wife, Karen; Grandson, Jonathan; Lindsey’s husband, Steven; Neighbor and Friend, Randy Short and life-long friend, Norma Childress.  So many family members and friends.  The Baptist Church has also supported them. Sending cards, delivering fruit baskets and providing Christmas Caroling.

 

Linda Childers Casto and Neda Childers Schmader.  I call them my Best Friends and my Daddy’s Angels.  They have been there through the great times, and (lately) through the really tough times.  All my Mother had to do was call and they were there to help.  Sometimes it wasn’t even a call – they would check on my parents and see if they needed anything.  Works cannot express the amount of love and gratitude I feel for these two sisters.

 

My Daddy loved my Mother beyond words.  Please know, Mother, that he knew how much you loved your handsome, Navy man.

 

Here I am at the point where my head is telling me to say “goodbye.”  My heart will not allow it.  You don’t say “goodbye” to a man like this.  He is my first love, my hero and my God-send.

 

Earlier, I spoke about Daddy bringing me up on the music from the 40’s.  Frank and Jo Stafford both recorded a song and it was his Nitro High Class song.  It will forever be in my heart and on my lips.  He loved it.  Mom loves it.  Mike loves it.  And so do I.   So, Daddy the following song is my loving salute to you.  “I’ll being seeing you, Daddy!”

 

Your girl,

Sandra