I know I told you in September I was going to do better about getting my monthly newsletters out. I lied.  I had the best intentions, but life decided there were other I needed to do. One of which is to work on my memory.
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Here is a little short one on Gracie, our smallest and youngest cat. If you ever come to the house you will never see her. Eleni Jordan from Parkview found her drinking from oily water in a car repair parking lot.  Gracie has been skittish all her life. She is mostly black with a little white on her face, chest and paws.  We call her the baby since she is only 12 years old. The others are 13.

Mystic has developed arthritis and diabetes. She has to get shot up twice a day.  She is doing pretty well with the diabetes, but the arthritis is in her hips and back legs. 

Figaro is still queen on the house.  She still gets her eyebrows rubbed every morning with her mini-moo.  I still sing "Moo River"  to her. 

Yes, I know.  I admit to being a little off center--like 179 degrees off center.

Here is Gracie's little story.
The Ghost Cat

​It was time for Gracie to visit the vet. She wasn't sick. I hadn't had her to the vet in 3 years. Since I had to take Mystic, the diabetic princess, and Figaro, the ornery queen of the house, I decided I'd let them check her over.

She decided they would not check her over!
Gracie was not told she was going to the vet. The words “vet” and “doctor” were not even spoken in the house. The carrier wasn’t brought in so she wouldn’t be forewarned.

We searched the house over.

There was no hiding place left unturned. We combed the upstairs, the downstairs, and found every dust bunny which had been hiding from us. But no Gracie.

We crawled on the floor, lifted bedspreads, and checked every chair in the house. No Gracie.

Special treats were brought out and placed in her favorite spots. Mystic came and ate, but no Gracie.

Catnip was sprayed in her box under the desk where she loves to lay. No Gracie.

After thirty minutes of searching and not finding this little six pound cat, I gave up. 

As soon as I called the vet and canceled our appointment she came out of hiding.

The receptionist asked if I wanted to reschedule. So I made another appointment.

Appointment two came along. Gracie was laying at my feet. Normally if I would stand she would remain sleeping in her box under the desk. Normally.

I stood up. I looked down. NO cat. Just a whiff of black fluff floating in the air. 

I searched the house for twenty minutes. I knew I didn’t have time to make the appointment so I called the veterinarian’s office to cancel and reschedule the visit.

I hung up the phone and turned around. There she sat, looking sweetly at me. I knew she was thinking “Gotcha again. No travel in my plans, Mama.”

This morning was the third appointment I had made for Gracie. She came into the bathroom and wanted to have the water faucet turned on so she could drink. I did that. 

She wanted to be combed. I did that.

I fed her. She wanted to rub against my legs.

At 9:45 am she was laying under the desk. At 9:46 she was gone. No one moved. No one breathed the word “vet.” She just vanished.

The Vet’s receptionist didn’t even ask if I wanted to reschedule. I guess the third time was it.

Gracie the Ghost Cat.

I have no idea how Dawn became Pussum Cat. I think James was trying to say Pussy Cat and it came out that way. Anyway, Dawn was mostly called Pussum. He loved it.

Yeah, that’s right. HE loved it. Two small kittens were curled up in the flower bed in front of our house one freezing rainy day. James was three I think. Mama Cat wasn’t around. Snell ran to the vet and bought special milk for kittens and we put it as close to the babies as we could. Long story short. James named them. Kissy and Dawn.

Kissy never warmed to us but would wander through periodically. Dawn was a bright young kitten and knew a good thing when she saw it. She stayed and let us pet and humor her.

Finally, one day Dawn started getting into our laps and letting us really hold her. She had to be neutered. We didn’t need any more cats to take up with us. The vet said Dawn was male. Well, gender identity was never one of our stronger traits. Don’t believe us…Delilah became Samson, Lilac the rabbit became Smokey, Figaro looks like she has a pair but is female and the Queen of the house. We need to choose genderless names.

Dawn knew his name. He and Puddles, the Puppy-Dog (oh I know, but …) loved each other. He made his way into the house and there he stayed. Forever.

Dawn was an amazing cat. Tolerant of a toddler who loved him. Answered you when you asked him a question. “Want some chicken, Pussum?” ”yaa,” he answered.” “Want some turkey, Dawn?” “Nah”. He didn’t care for turkey at all.

I write the Anything Goes column for Inspirations for Better Living magazine.
(www.inspirationsforbetterliving.com)

The parent company has a radio show Every Wednesday.  I was interviewed for this Wednesday's feature.
​(www.FromMyMamasKitchenTalkRadio.com) 

I hope you will be able to listen in.  I would appreciate it very much.

The link is below.

Interview with Marlene Rutledge Buchanan and Lynn Hesse at the S. SinC meeting, Monroe Walton County Center for the Arts.

Sainthood may not be good enough an honor! Ms. Johnson invented the hand cranked ice cream churn as a way to reduce the time required to make ice cream. Ice cream was originally made using very intensive labor over several hours. Johnson essentially created a way to make ice cream faster and easier. 

Originally, there were many steps to creating ice cream. President Thomas Jefferson had an eighteen step recipe. Johnson’s brilliant idea changed ice cream making into a much easier and faster route to happiness. On September 9th, 1843, Patent numberUS3254A was issued for the. Artificial Freezer and antedated on July 29th, 1848.

A Philadelphia housewife married to Walter Rogers Johnson in Medfield, Massachusetts. Walter was a scientist and first secretary at the American Association for the Advancement of Science. Nancy, herself, was a very successful inventor. This was very uncommon in her days, because women’s legal identities were taken away when they married. Under the laws of coverture, women were not allowed to control their own finances, own property, or sign legal agreements. Men represented their wives, mothers, and daughters. Nancy was a bold and determined woman who empowered women, teaching them they can make their own way for themselves.

In 1843, she filed for her patent for the first hand-cranked ice cream churn (US3254A). Her invention was called a “disruptive technology” because it made it possible for everyone to make quality ice cream without electricity. This technology changed the way that ice cream was made forever and portions of her patent continue to be used today.

Johnson received $1500 during the course of her lifetime for her Artificial Freezer. She adapted her original patient and refiled September 9th, 1843. She sold the rights of the patent to William G. Young, a Baltimore native, who improved some on the ice cream freezer on May 30th, 1848. Johnson sold the rights of the patent to Young for $200.

People erroneously credit Young as the inventor, but it was a Nancy Johnson who made the world a better place.
  
There are some people who should receive sainthood for the amazing deeds they do. Heroes should receive awards. We need to recognize the people who have made a difference in this world.

September 9 should be celebrated around the world! Nancy Maria Donaldson Johnson should be known universally for ice cream.

You scream.

I scream...

We all scream for ice cream. 

And scream most loudly for Nancy.

Nancy Maria Donaldson Johnson, thank you, thank you, thank you. You made my life and the lives of so many better.

(Information derived from Wikipedia)

Marlene is available for her speaking engagements. She is an award winning author and her books are available through amazon.com and scribblersweb.com. Join www.MsRatWrites.com for her monthly newsletters.

    We have just returned from our vacation to Alaska. We went 21 years ago with our son, friends John and Margie Sawyer, their daughter Mylinda, and husband Chris Moore. It was the trip of a life time. But our lifetimes do change.

    This trip was a little different. Mylinda, Chris, and their 19 year old daughter joined us. They brought her mama, Margie. One of my dearest friends, Cece (Cecelia Landress) also took the trip. John, who is legendary in Georgia for his baseball coaching skills, can no longer travel. 

Things I learned:

1. I attended a conference that was a weeklong only to return to leave for Alaska in 4 days. I was in a swivet already. Already tired and leaving a ton of work behind, I was in tail spin by the time we got to the airport. (And yes, swivet is a word in my vocabulary! It is self-explanatory.)
2. Never let your husband and son do their own packing without checking behind them.
3. Never trust anyone who says “I already checked there.” When searching for his medication. Always, ALWAYS, check behind them. We unpacked and packed the suitcases THREE times. The medication was on the bathroom sink in the little plastic bag with the toothbrushes and paste.  Yep, always check behind anyone who swears they have already done it.
4. If you spend three hours in Atlanta Hartsfield Airport, you have done all of your time in Purgatory. We did it twice this trip. If you didn’t cuss out one person, your extra feathers will be waiting by your wing frame in Heaven. I have to say, after our luggage was misplaced on the return home, I may have lost a few of my feathers. With my bum ankle I transversed Hartsfield THREE times. Snell is sick. James is aggravated and wanting to go home. I think I have to start collecting feathers again. My wing frame is pretty empty.
5. Memories are what matters. Margie has Alzheimer’s. She is my best friend. We laughed at all the old things we talked about. We laughed several times as we told the same new stories. It is important to cherish the woman who was so powerful and wonderful and to love the woman who is there now.  People around us might think we have lost our minds, but who cares. She is laughing and she is still wonderful.
6. Alaska is the final frontier—as long as you don’t get off the boat.  It is now the retail capital of the world, I think. Jewelers try to pull you in off the street.  
7. Whatever price is asked, ask for lower. Then ask again. One more time. Never pay more than one-third of the asking price and I recommend that you think one-fourth or less.  Alaska is the land of opportunity for you to be robbed blind.
8. Never bring a coat to Alaska. You can buy great jackets in Ketchikan for $30. Buy it in Ketchikan. The prices go up as you go further into your trip. When we began unpacking on the ship I found the three of us had five coats and three sweaters. The coolest temperature we had was 51F in the mornings. The rest of the day was low to mid 60’s. Shirt sleeve weather for me. A sweater and jacket for them. I told you to always check their packing. 
9. Don’t buy anything on the ship until the last day. Find out if you have some money credits. Use that to get what they have on sale if you really want it. I “bought” three rings for $0.00. I had $45.00 in credits.
10. Never say never. When we got out of Purgatory Atlanta-Hartsfield airport, with our luggage, my husband said “I am never going anywhere that we cannot drive.” James agreed. Then said, “Are we still going to Hawaii?” “Not until a bridge is built, son. Not until there is a bridge.” Replied Snell. 
11. Yes, crying is permitted. I was convinced I had caught dementia from Margie. I could not remember things. Finding my way was nearly impossible. I was easily confused…more easily than usual. My temper was not just flaring, but flames were shooting into the air. You are tired. You are in a new place. People will and do run over you. Try to smile as much as you can. It scares people around you and they will back up.
12. Do not plan for any activities for the first three days you are home. I had a speaking engagement the day after we got home. The audience was very receptive. I got a lot of compliments. I don’t remember what all I said. I do remember taking my shoes off because I felt like I was swaying on a ship. 
13. Book a service to take you to the airport. I think this is really valuable in Atlanta, where road construction is our adventure park. There are several things to recommend a driver. One, you get there without having to fight the traffic directly and you do not have to find parking. Outler Transportation, out of Snellville, GA, was the group we used.  Delightful staff, very helpful, knew all the ways to get around the construction. He knew where to go to get us to the right airline place, too. Greg, the owner, was terrific.
14. Book a service to get you home from the airport. This will save you jail time. When you get off that air plane you are still rocking and reeling and your brain is swollen and non-functioning. You only have to find the driver. No check out in the terminal parking, just let him drive you out of the mess.  And calling it a mess is being very kind. No matter how aggravated you are, he is dealing with the imbeciles who are cutting in front of you, tailgating, and acting a fool. If I had been driving I probably would have cussed more, made ugly gestures, and rammed into a telephone pole when I fell asleep behind the wheel. God Bless Greg and the Outler Transportation Series. (770-560-2961. www.outlertrans.com) I want to give him a big thank you and share his information with you.  Seriously, kept me sane and got us home safely and with an understanding smile that I was a homicidal manic after the Atlanta Airport fun and games.

The trip was good. We had a great time. It is our last adventure with Margie. Our families have traveled many places together. This was our last hurrah. Know what? The airport, lost luggage, and diarrhea (Yeah, I left that part out), money hungry retailers, and everything else... I wouldn’t trade that trip for anything.

One last great thing. I taught high school art was called Art Woman or Ms. Rat. One of my former students, now friend, lives in Seattle. We have stayed in touch over the last 50 plus years. Richard Kromm came out to meet us. We had a couple of hours together. Richard and being with Margie and our extended family is what made the trip priceless. 

I’d do it all again, even the airport.

My father, James E. Ratledge was born November 21, 1916.  After he died, Mama said he never left.  He was still sitting in his recliner, waiting for her.  I believe it.  I think Mama is sitting on my right shoulder and Daddy is on left one.  Both are whispering in my ear. 

I can still see them walking hand-in-hand.   Daddy was over 6’4” and Mama was about 5’5” in her prime.  They almost always held hands.  As Mama would shrink, she would have her arm bent even higher and Daddy would lean over a little more.

They met on a blind date at the Atlanta Water Works while working at White Provision Company in 1943.  The old Atlanta Water Works was a favorite picnic place.  Mama said he was the handsomest thing she had ever seen.  She first saw him as he was approaching where she and her friends were. He was over 6 feet 4 inches, had beautiful blue black hair and a golden olive completion. He was wearing a white suit with a black shirt and a black sling supporting his injured arm.  She said that was it. He was too beautiful to forget. They married May 1, 1944.  Daddy never forgave World War II for separating them.  I have 746 700 love letters he wrote during WWII reinforcing his love.

Mama and his brothers called him Bob.  When he was young in the early 1900’s male children wore their hair long.  When it was time for James to get his big boy haircut, his two older brother teased him and called him “bobtail.”  He was Bob ever since.

    Daddy was a perfectionist and could do just about anything from electricity to plumbing and wood working.  He even did a little black smithy on the old forge at my Grandparent’s place.  Daddy and his mother flipped houses before there was such a thing.  Mama’s family place didn’t have electricity or running water.  Daddy put in their first furnace, stove, running water and bathroom.  You name it, he did it.

185, later changed to 585 was Daddy’s radio code number for the City of Atlanta Police Department/Atlanta Board of Education School Detectives.  In 1947 Atlanta developed specialized detective units within the agency. In 1952, The Atlanta Board of Education and the Atlanta Police Department joined forces and created the Atlanta School Detective Unit.  In 1953, my Daddy and Julian Stephens were the second and third officers to join Sgt. J. D. Nash, Commander. There was another School Detective Department being formed about this same time in another state. The only two in the nation. The School Detective Unit was the fore-runner of what we now call School Resource Officers in Georgia.  

Daddy was good at his job.  I don’t know about now, but he held the record for the most cases solved for over 15 years. I have all of his old reports.  Someday I am going to write that book I promised him. Now he is gone and I only have his paper reports to rely on.  I regret we never found time to write his book.

He did some interesting things in his life.  During WWII he escorted military prisoners.  I have his secret identification and name that he used.  One night while hospitalized, the nurses on duty asked Mama what Daddy had done for a living.  She told them about his having been a police officer. One of the nurses was one of my former students and spent a lot of time visiting with all of us.  Ellen told Mama that Daddy was talking about having a different name. Daddy had been part of the Secret Police.  The night Ellen was checking on Daddy, he was the other military policeman taking a Nazi prisoner somewhere “special.” 

Once it was learned that his father, Luther Edward Ratledge, had been a train engineer before becoming a police officer, and Daddy could do medical core and train repair, he was reassigned. Daddy built the first hot water shower on one of the medical trains in Europe. After that when they would be in a station somewhere Daddy teach other train personnel how he had run the lines so their trains could also have hot water showers. 

  One night when he was so sick and on morphine, he was back on that train.  I spent the entire night, rebuilding a train engine with him.  He would tell me what tool he wanted and I handed it to him.  In his drugged imagination, all those machines in that room were part of the engine. We did a good job, too.  By about 4:30 in the morning, he told me to “fire her up and let’s get moving.” 
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When the Allied troops captured Adolf Hitler’s private train, it was damaged.  Daddy and his medical train happened to be in the same location.  One of the officers on Daddy’s train suggested they ask my father to look at the damage on Hitler’s train.  Rat could “jury-rig” anything.  I don’t know what was wrong with the train, but it couldn’t be moved further into Allied territory because of the problem. Daddy went over and did whatever was needed to get it moving again.  While Daddy was working on the problem, a team of US and other Allied personnel were cataloging every item in the train. 

 Daddy reported the repair had been completed to the officer in charge.  That officer was part of the team cataloging Hitler’s belongings.  He was in Hitler’s private dining car.  The officer picked up a small cream pitcher from Hitler’s table and handed it to Daddy thanking him for his help.  The pitcher has the swastika emblem and Mama wrote a note about what Daddy told her and stuck it in it. The cream pitcher is marked with the Allied catalog number. 

Daddy could do anything. Daddy was the builder, Mama was the painter and designer. He built his grandson an airplane swing with a 6’ wing span and working joystick, rocking horses, and any other thing he thought his namesake James could want. Daddy made a table that was James’ height and the legs could be extended to grow with him.   They did a lot of drawing and coloring on that table.  

He and Mama refurbished old houses to rent or sell.  Daddy made the entire kitchen set, stove, refrigerator, cupboards and even a sink with a turning faucet for the Kindergarten class of H.O. Burgess Elementary School (1955). That set was still in use some 10 plus years later. Our class had wooden animals to paint that he cut from scrap lumber, too. One of my classmates mentioned remembering them. I have several still.  He and Mama created the most beautiful gardens outside of Calloway Gardens you have ever seen.  He worked hard. And he adored Mama.

He and Mama taught me to be independent and self-reliant.  I learned how to lay a wooden floor, to use most any kind of tool, paint a room, fire a gun, swim, and defend myself physically and mentally.  He made sure Mama and I were loved and well taken care.  

Rat accomplished all kinds of things and best of all, Daddy was mine. And I miss him.  Mama used to say there will never be another one like Bob Ratledge.  No, there won’t. I bet Mama and Daddy are holding hands right now. 

1950 Daimler DE 36 Convertible
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• One of a kind street rod or perfect for restoration.
• Original body and frame in good condition. Free of any significant rust. Built in England, it has right hand drive.
• Built by the original Daimler factory by hand, it is styled after the 1920-30’s style with wooden frame work.
• Ready for rebuild or restoration. This unique car can easily be converted into a one of a kind street rod. A rebuilt 327 Chevy motor is included. Easy restoration. 85% original. Restoration began, motor, dash and transmission removed, but still have them.
• $26,000. obo. Located near Atlanta, GA. 
• Contact William at 770-972-5595 or [email protected]

This was a dream restoration, but health and age has prevented completion.