“Every Day Is A Holiday And Every Meal Is A Banquet”

On May 23, 2015May 23, 2015 By Barry GilleyIn Uncategorized2 Comments

The quote in the title of this blog was used by my dad to describe Libby Willis shortly after meeting her when he said to me, “I love her enthusiam and positive attitude, because with Libby everyday is holiday and every meal is a banquet.”. My dad also reminds me often that after making the above comment he said to me, “If you don’t marry that girl, it will be the biggest mistake of your life.”

That enthusiasm and love of life was one of the first things that attracted me to the young, bubbly, Libby when we both were still teenagers. Throughout her life Libby could seemingly find good in everyone she met, so much so, that our son Jerod once told his mom that he thought she could probably find something good to say about Adolf Hitler, to which Libby said, “I’m sure he had some good traits but he was a man who made some very bad decisions, but God loved him so much that he sent his son to die for him as well as each one of us”. I rest my case.

As much fun as Libby had living life and looking for the good in others, at her core she was an introvert, she was never comfortable being the center of attention, preferring to do most of the work and not get any of the credit. But if Libby saw a project at the church that needed completing or if she saw a child in need of help, she was very bold and seem to possess endless energy to complete projects and care for children.

On many occasions over the years I begrudgingly met Libby in the front yard with a head lamp and a shovel in my hand after she phoned me from the car asking if I could get a hole ready in the yard so the we could plant something just as soon as she got home. The story was nearly the same every time; Libby would explain with her hands waving in the air and using short bursts of sentences, ” I was just driving down the road… you know after I dropped Helen off…we had been buying stuff for the church dinner next Sunday…don’t forget to set up the tables… and I passed this house with the most gorgeous _________ ” (tree, flower or bush, you can fill in the blank here) “that I have ever seen, so I stopped and asked the little man where they bought such a gorgeous ________ ” (tree, flower or bush ) “and , well, we got to talking… and he was such a nice little man… he and his wife have been married nearly 40 years and they have 3 children and 4 grandchildren… I taught his son in the 3rd grade… now he was a rounder…always having stay in from recess… and anyway, I kept talking to the nice little man …then before I left… I told him how pretty the _________ (tree, flower or bush ) was and then…he just dug it up and gave it to me!”

Whew, sometimes it could be more exhausting to try and follow the animated explanation of how Libby wound up with the tree, flower or bush than actually digging a hole and planting it.

People were drawn to the open, honest and caring attitude that Libby possessed, in addition, Libby had this naive belief that everyone else in this world was as trusting and giving as she was and in spite of that innocence, or more likely, because of it, people would do things for her that most of us would never even think to ask. The one story that illustrates that personality trait better than most happened when my youngest brother Rodney was a freshman at the University of Georgia and our family had gone to Athens on a Fall Saturday to watch a football game.

Throughout the game we all watched in awe as a talented freshman running back named Herschel dominated the day; everyone, that is, except for Libby who was enamored with Uga the Georgia Bulldog mascot on the sideline in front us, After the game, we all went down on the field to see a friend of Rodney’s who was on the team (and possibly meet this Walker kid) but as we started down the long rows of bleachers onto the field Libby said, “You all go ahead, I’m going to go pet the dog”. I said, “Libby, don’t be silly, they are not going to let you pet the dog, they will not let you near that dog”. “I will just ask”, she said as she walked away.

Later after visiting with Rodney and his friends (but not Hershel) we were ready to start back home but we couldn’t find Libby. Bear in mind this was BC (Before Cellphones) so my mom, my dad and Rodney spread out as we walked the field searching for Libby. By now most of the fans had cleared the stands and only a few remained scattered about the field, that was, except for a crowd of people standing close together at the “G” in the center of the field, which is exactly where I found Libby sitting cross-legged on the ground surrounded by children with the Georgia mascot UGA III lying in her lap, his leash in her left hand.

As I approached the group, I could hear Libby’s “teacher voice” telling some children, “No, James is next in line to pet Uga so you will need to wait your turn” then adding, “OK Jenny, don’t pet him too hard he’s had a long day and he’s getting tired.” It was truly one of those “Only Libby” moments that we would see repeated thousands of times more in her life a she seemed to always surprise her family and friends with light-hearted moments

Libby could have literally and figuratively rubbed my nose it that day in Athens by giving me a knowing look with the subtle raising of her eyebrows or by simply saying, “See I told you so” but those thoughts never entered her mind as she sat beaming from ear to ear, simply enjoying her afternoon of college football, surrounded by kids saying, “Hey lady, can we pet your dog?”

She did, however have one thing to say to me when she saw me looking down at her over the top of the children’s heads, she said, “Oh hi honey, will you check to see if you can get me a towel, Uga is slobbering all over my legs!”. I said,” Yes Miss Libby” just before I shuffled off in my search.

Not on My Watch…

On May 16, 2015May 16, 2015 By Barry GilleyIn Uncategorized6 Comments

In my last blog entry I explained that on the way home after one of our many trips to St. Jude Hospital in Memphis, Jerod had decided to become a combination doctor / truck driver so he could use the truck to shuttle kids to the hospital while curing cancer. While waiting on that cure, Samantha would go through cancer nine different times in her short life but after each diagnosis we thought that would be the last time she would have to go through another treatment.

One of those nine cancer battles developed when we all thought Samantha had the mumps, but after further diagnosis and a biopsy, we found out that the cancer had returned and once again Steven, Susie and Samantha made the trip back to St. Jude. The treatment, we were told, would involve some very high-powered radiation to her neck in hopes of reducing the size of the tumor. After several days of treatment Steven came back home to Chattanooga to go back to work and Susie stayed with Sam for the remainder of the treatments.

The intense radiation treatments that Samantha was having to endure day after day gave credence to the old adage, “Sometimes the treatment can be worse than the disease itself”. Samantha soon became unable to eat as the radiation treatments caused a lot of complications including swelling which began to close up her throat as she became more weak and lethargic with every passing day. As Sam’s health deteriorated the treatments were stopped and a feeding tube was discussed, but that had its own set of problems and potential complications. Everything came to a head late one night when Susie called Libby and said that Samantha had quit responding to everyone; through tears Susie told Libby that she was afraid Sam night not make it this time because she seemed to have given up, then she told Libby, “If you will come to Memphis I think she will listen to you because she will do anything for her Aunt Libby”.

It was close to midnight when we received that call from Susie and as Libby hung up the phone she turned to me and simply said, ” I’m going to Memphis”, I was not privy to the conversation and so I said, “Whoa, just a minute, can’t it at least wait until morning?” Now, Libby, at times, went into a zone where she developed this intense focus and determination, shutting out all outside influences as she zeroed in on her goal, this was one of those times. Libby hurriedly threw some clothes in a bag and began frantically searching for her car keys as I trailed along behind, still trying to find out what just happened. Libby was unable to tell me anything while looking for her keys as it took her total concentration (and normally everyone else in the house as well) until the task was accomplished. After finding her keys, Libby ran to get into her car, then, remembering me, she called over her shoulder, “Samantha needs me… I’m going to Memphis… Steven will drive me… I’ll call you on the way and fill you in… take care of the boys… I love you.”

After driving all night to get there, Libby and Steven pulled through the front gates at St. Jude early in the morning and within minutes Libby was kneeling at Samantha’s bedside cradling her two thin hands in hers, while talking with, and praying for her. Amazingly, within a few minutes of her arrival, Libby had convinced Samantha to sit up and begin eating (or rather drinking) her meal. Susie said that Samantha’s doctors were amazed when, after just 24 hours, Samantha had made a complete turn around and they were able to resume scaled back treatments to reduce the tumor.

Many of the hospital staff were left asking what had happened and so Susie explained that Sam and her aunt Libby had a special relationship and she just knew that Libby would be able to get her to eat and restore her fight to live when no one else could. “It doesn’t hurt”, Susie told everyone who asked, “To have Libby Gilley praying for you”.

But the best comment came from one doctors who, after seeing the near miraculous change in Sam’s condition in a matter of hours said, “I sure wish all all of my patients had an Aunt Libby.”

When I Grow Up…

On May 10, 2015May 10, 2015 By Barry GilleyIn Uncategorized4 Comments

Like so many new parents, Libby and I often felt as if we were just stumbling through the process of raising our boys during their formative years but sometimes we would go against the conventional wisdom such as when our boys reached the age when they were eligible to participate in the ever increasing number of team sports available to young kids. Our boys actually helped make the decision to opt out of many of the little league baseball, peewee football and soccer leagues, preferring instead to spend time water skiing, fishing, and playing with their cousins during the summers at the retirement lake house in Winchester that we built for my mom and dad.

When my Brother Steven and his wife Susie had their first child there was a shift in our family priorities once again when their daughter Samantha was diagnosed with retinoblastoma (a cancer of the eye) and was immediately sent to St. Jude hospital in Memphis. Because a lot of the treatments at St. Jude were outpatient, a week of treatments meant a lot of boring time hanging out around the hospital and the Ronald McDonald House, interrupted by an hour or two of scheduled treatments each day in the hospital.

Naturally our family began spending a lot of time in Memphis especially during Samantha’s critical surgeries and procedures but no matter how much time they spent in and around the hospital Jerod, Nathan and Samantha never ran short of imagination, With encouragement from Libby, the three cousins would come up with creative ideas and games to entertain themselves and other patients and staff every time they were together but the one constant was something they called “The Rainbow Restaurant”. The imaginary restaurant developed a life of its own within the walls of St. Jude Hospital, complete with signs, menus, a seating area and even a TO-GO section for some of the doctors who rarely had time for the full seven course menu. The Rainbow Restaurant open and closed in a new location every time the three of them got together, whether it was in Samantha’s room or a vacant room that the staff allowed them to use, everyone would stop by and place their order for either a full meal complete with a maitre de or just a cup of coffee.

St. Jude Hospital serves children from many diverse backgrounds and although, as odd as it seems to most of us, sometimes the patient’s family would have to leave their young child in the care of the hospital staff and go back home. Once while we were visiting Samantha in the hospital there a was a crying baby in the room next door and so Libby and I took turns sitting with the little girl who’s parents had to return to their home in Israel so they could work and take care of the other children. Although the nurses checked on little girl constantly, we spent a lot of time feeding and taking care of the little girl while we were there. I remember the look on five-year-old Jerod’s face when he came into the room and asked me why I was holding someone else’s baby. (This was obviously long before HIPPA regulations and security issues). I explained to Jerod that she was sick like Samantha and that she had cancer but her parents had to go home so I had decided to sit with her and see if I could help calm her down.

I think the incident with the baby next door to Samantha’s room affected both of our boys because as we were driving back home, out of the blue, Jerod said, “When I grow up I want to be a doctor”. I asked Jerod, “What made you decide that you wanted to be a doctor?” and he said, “If I become a doctor then I can figure out how to stop cancer and I will be able to make those kids at St. Jude ‘all better’ and then they wouldn’t have to be in that hospital all alone without their mommy and daddy”.

I was so proud of Jerod for the compassion that he had for the kids and for a brief moment I relished the thought of my son becoming doctor even thinking to myself I really wish I had that conversation on video because this may be a milestone in his live. Then, executing my paternal responsibly, I said,”Jerod you know your mom and I will support you in whatever profession you decided to pursue.” But just as suddenly the tide turned and Jerod spoke up again and said, “You know dad, I’ve been thinking about it and I’ve decided I would rather drive a dump truck than be a doctor”. Oh well, I thought to myself and through clinched teeth teeth I said,” Jerod, that’s OK too, you know your mom and I will support you in whatever profession you decide to pursue, but you you have plenty of time to decide those type of things.”

Jerod was sitting in the back seat being very quiet (which always made me nervous) and I could tell he was thinking about our conversation so I watched him in my rear view mirror for several more miles as we rolled down interstate 40 toward Nashville. Nathan who was nearly two years younger than Jerod was in that stage where he wanted to be just like his older bother and would always echo, “Yeah, me too” regardless of what Jerod had said. Later, after considerable thought, Jerod had worked up a big smile on his face as he looked up at me in the mirror and said, “I’ve got it figured out daddy; there are a lot kids from Chattanooga, you know, besides Sam, who have to go to St. Jude because they have cancer, right?” I said, “Yes, Jerod, there are a lot kids who make that trip”, still unsure as to where this conversation was going. “OK” Jerod said, “I can do both,” patiently trying to explain his idea to me, “since doctors make lots of money I can buy a brand new dump truck and then I can pick up all of the kids around Chattanooga and carry them to St. Jude Hospital in my dump truck on my way to work. After all,” he explained, “there is plenty of room in the back. Then when we get to the hospital I will back my truck up the front door, dump all of the kids out, and then go in side and fix them”.

“Yeah, me too.” repeated Nathan. Problem solved.

Mistakes, Wisdom and HEDs

On May 1, 2015May 7, 2015 By Barry GilleyIn Uncategorized4 Comments

I enjoy reading the comments made by readers of this blog and some of the more generous ones have included things like, “you need to write a book”. In the unlikely event that a book ever happens it would most likely include a chapter entitled “What NOT to do for a successful marriage”.

Libby and I both made lots of mistakes in our marriage but after Libby’s miscarriage I feel like I became an expert on what not to do in a relationship. Men (and women too) sometimes think they are helping the situation when we say things following a miscarriage including “You can always try again”, or ” You’re still young and you have plenty of time to get pregnant again” appearing to imply that what happened is just an inconvenience and the best thing for everyone is to forget about the past and to get back to “normal”. Hindsight can be a cruel teacher and it has taught many of us to treat a miscarriage the same way you would treat the death of any child.

If only our brains came standard with a USB port tucked in behind our right ear so we could easily transfer these lessons learned into the minds of young people because it is a lesson that, like so many others in life, is learned after the fact, usually when it is no longer needed.

I wasn’t much help later when Libby battled depression for over a year following the miscarriage because I didn’t really know how to handle the situation. Now, I will admit that a depressed Libby was more upbeat than 90% of “regular” people, but her close friends and family knew it was struggle for her during that time after we lost Adalynn. Added to everything else, Libby felt like she was a bad mother because the boys slipped out of the house without her knowledge and could have easily been hit on that busy road.

The new house and property presented lots of challenges and opportunities while it opened up a Swiss Family Robinson type world for two adventurous boys as we built go-cart trails, tree houses, bridges, zip lines, and forts. There were trees to climb, camp sites to build, creeks to dam up and plenty of mud to track in on mom’s new white berber carpet. When the boys were in high school our house was used to hold birthday parties, host cross-country parties, build homecoming floats and set off HED’s (Homemade Explosive Devices). Several times our back yard was turned into a Hollywood back lot where the boys and their friends filmed several movies including war movies which took advantage of the campsites, creeks, trails and HED’s simultaneously.

Libby and I had the goal from the beginning to provide a place where our boys and their friends wanted to play, instead of taking them to someone else’s house. One of the oddest conversations that I ever heard in our house was Libby innocently explaining to some parents that, yes, sometimes our boys built bombs, but they were only allowed to set off very small ones by themselves because we had a firm rule that all large concussion bombs and fireballs required at least one adult to be present.

Both the new property and house were a hit with our boys and, as it turns out, therapeutic for their mom. With time and some wise counsel, Libby got through her time of depression and we “got our Libby back”. Although most people would never have guessed that her feelings of inadequacy were always hovering just below the surface, they would sometimes sneak up on her, overshadowing God’s promises, as she would make comments such as: “I feel so unworthy that I’m not sure that I am even going to go to heaven”, a comment that caused many of our friends to respond in unison with this proclamation: ” If Libby Gilley is not going to heaven then the rest of us might as well give up, because we have no chance.” Still others made more crude responses, equating those chances to that of a snowball surviving in an extremely hot location.

Adalynn

On April 26, 2015April 26, 2015 By Barry GilleyIn Uncategorized4 Comments

In the spring of 1992 when Jerod and Nathan were 6 and 4 years old respectively, Libby and I felt like we were just getting comfortable in our roles as parents when Libby surprised us all by announcing that she was pregnant. We felt as if our lives couldn’t get much better; our business was growing, our family was growing and although both of our boys were thrilled with the news, Jerod was especially excited about having a baby brother or sister, he even made plans for the baby to share his and Nathan’s room, telling his mom that he could take care of the baby anytime and would babysit without having to be paid.

When we found out later that we were going to have our first girl we immediately began thinking of names, eventually settling on a combination of Libby’s first name Adah and my middle name Lynn, using the spelling Adalynn .

We were living in an older two bedroom house with a lot of history and charm which, until now, suited us perfectly, besides Libby loved the old hardwood floors and plaster arched doorways. The drawbacks to the house were it’s close proximity to the highway and of course the two bedrooms. I began immediately drawing up plans to add another bathroom and bedroom to accommodate Adalynn. The boys helped me layout the addition in the back yard using white chalk on the ground to show the new rooms locations but they were a little less excited about their new sister when they realized that the addition to the house would encroach on their play area, sand box and tree house.

About the time we were ready to start the addition my mom told us about a friend of hers who was going to sell their house with four bedrooms and two baths surrounded by twenty acres of land. We decided to go look at the house with its huge front yard, basement, barn and woods for the boys to play in. I fell in love with the place, Libby on the other hand, was not thrilled about all of the work that would be needed to make the log house into her home.

I had mixed emotions about selling and moving as I weighed the options of staying in our current home and having to add-on versus moving into a new place. I knew that Libby wasn’t thrilled to leave her dream house and start over decorating but she wanted the best thing for the family. A few days later we were still both on the fence about making the move, weighing all of the options when, in an instant, our little world was rocked.

Libby began having a lot of problems one morning after I had left for work and she called to tell me that she thought she had lost the baby. I was nearly an hour away when Libby called so she called my mom to take her to the doctor. I told her that I would leave immediately and meet her at the doctor’s office. As Libby waited to go to the doctor the boys asked why she was crying so she decided to tell them what had happened. Nathan was a little too young to comprehend everything that was going on but Jerod was visibly shaken by the news and seemed very upset.

Libby told me later that the scene in our home that morning was chaotic as she was trying to get ready to go to the doctor while answering phone calls from concerned family and friends and that’s when she got THE CALL. Our elderly neighbor phoned to say that she had just seen two little boys walking hand in hand down Highway 193 which ran in front of our house and they looked like our boys. Libby was heart sick, she dropped the phone, ran out the front door and soon found Jerod and Nathan across the street in our neighbor’s yard walking away from our house.

As she approached them on her side of the highway Libby’s biggest fear was that the boys would see her and try to come back across the busy highway, so with her heart up in her throat, she walked parallel to them and calmly asked, “Where are you guys going?” Jerod answered that they were going to Helen’s house. “Why?” Libby asked, “We are running away from home because we are not getting a sister anymore” Jerod responded. As the cars flew by between them Libby said, “Jerod, I am proud of you for being such a good big brother by holding Nathan’s hand.” Jerod swelled with pride and responded, “I’ll protect him, I had to help him across the street because he is too little to do it by himself…” Now that Libby knew the boys were not going to panic she said, “Stay right there and I will come over and walk with you”. So, ironically, as Jerod warned his mom to be careful crossing the street, Libby crossed the busy highway and broke into tears as she scooped up her boys. Libby said later that all of the pent up emotion from all of the morning’s events came out in a rush of tears and hugs and she couldn’t help but think that it was only by God’s grace that she didn’t loose three children in one day.

That evening after the traumatic and heart wrenching events of the day Libby said to me, “Do whatever you have to do to buy that house, its a long way off of the road and right now nothing else matters”. After some discussions with the homeowners, which felt more like an adoption than a negotiation for a house, we set a closing date. In the negotiation I did ask for an unusual favor prior to closing, which they granted.

So on a warm spring afternoon in 1992, beneath vividly white dogwoods blooms, we buried the tiny remains of Adalyn Elizabeth Gilley on the property that would soon be ours.

Lessons Learned (or not)

On April 17, 2015April 17, 2015 By Barry GilleyIn Uncategorized6 Comments

When Jerod and Nathan were toddlers their great grandmother (Libby’s mom’s mother) died during the spring of 1989 following a brief illness. While we were on our way back home from the funeral in Greensboro, Alabama Jerod wanted to know where Nonnie was now. Libby and I tried to explain to our young boys in very simple terms some complex ideas that, frankly, we had trouble understanding ourselves. It was difficult at best explaining the death of a loved one to the two restless, short attention spanned boys in the backseat of a moving car and as usual you never know how much information is actually sinking into their little brains especially when the conversation proceeds something like this, “…but dad…… why can’t we just drive over to her house and see Nonnie?” as the younger Nathan chimes in with, “Yes daddy….please!!” Trying to select my words carefully now I say, “Nonnie is not at her house, she is heaven with Jesus.” Both boys appeared to be in deep thought and I was sure my bright children were considering their own mortality. Jerod quickly broke the silence when he said, “Ok, then can we stop for ice cream?” and Nathan followed with, “Yes daddy…….please!!”

Later that evening when we were back home, Libby was in the kitchen cooking supper and I was playing with the boys in the living room when we heard a scream coming from the kitchen; Libby had just seen a bug crawl across the floor. Now Libby was deathly afraid of bugs and she definitely did not want to get close enough to kill one, so she called to me over her shoulder as she ran out of the room, “Barry, come kill this bug!”. As I got up to perform my manly duty Jerod quickly jumped to his feet and said, “Let me do it dad.” I looked at Libby and shrugged my shoulders as our four year old walked into the kitchen, assessed the situation and then turned back toward his mom and me as he lifted up his cowboy boot preparing to step on the bug. “Watch this,” he said, “I’m going to send him to see Jesus!” I looked over at Libby and whispered, “We may need to have that heaven discussion one more time, I’m not sure that the right message got through.”

Nonnie’s was the first death in our family that our boys would experience and as it turned out, it would be the last time they experienced that kind of loss for a very long time; in fact 21 years would pass between the death of their Nonnie and the next death in our family. When the boys were both in college Libby and I had a conversation which began with Libby saying, “I’m really worried about our boys, they have lived a charmed life”. Not really sure where all of this was going I asked what she meant by “charmed life”. Libby said, “Well, except when they were toddlers, they have never experienced the loss of a loved one.” Libby went on to explain how she was afraid that because our boys had been spared that particular agony they never developed the skills to deal with the loss of someone that they love. I told Libby that they were smart boys and we would just have to pray that we had laid enough groundwork in other areas of their lives to carry over, because they would certainly have their share of grief sooner or later,besides there was nothing that either one of us could do that would delay or speed up that experience for them.

Sadly, beginning a few months after that conversation, our boys would get multiple opportunities to develop grieving skills as their cousin Samantha Gilley, grandmother Joyce Gilley, grandfather Jimmy Willis, uncle Michael Gilley and then finally, their mom Libby Gilley all “went to see Jesus”.

“We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed” (2 Corinthians 4:8-9 NIV).

Our Family Grows

On April 12, 2015April 17, 2015 By Barry GilleyIn Uncategorized2 Comments

After several years as an early childhood educator Libby was well on her way to becoming a well respected and even admired teacher in every school in which she taught, my career with Olan Mills, however, was another story. Libby and I had talked about starting a family and I had quickly realized that a photographer’s salary was not going to provide sufficient support for a family, especially if she decided not to go back to work. After some serious discussions with Libby and lots of prayer, I quit my photography job and enrolled full time in the engineering program at the University of Tennessee at Chattanooga six long years after graduating from high school.

To help with finances while I was in college I had as many as five different jobs at one time including free lance photography, a bottled water delivery business, construction and solar panel sales. Four years and a lot of sleepless nights later I would graduate from UTC attending commencement exercises in the spring of 1986, but not before Libby announced a commencement of her own.

During my junior year in college Libby became pregnant with our first son Jerod and he was born in November of my senior year. On Monday after Jerod was born I skipped class with plans to hand out bubble gum cigars to my professors until I found out how much a box of bubble gum cigars cost, that’s when I decided that I would hand out the “real” cheap cigars wrapped in blue cellophane proclaiming “Its a Boy!”. After all, the guys had Phds, so surely they knew the hazards of smoking. In hind sight I should have destroyed the empty cigar box because Libby found it and was not happy with my choice.

I had always marveled at Libby’s ability to fall in love with the students that she taught and become absorbed in their lives far beyond the classroom. I had never before seen such a capacity to love so completely and so quickly, but then we had our own and she fell in love more deeply than ever before.

Our family was not the only thing changing; during my second year of college I began working for a small construction company designing and building earth sheltered houses, installing storm windows and other energy conservation materials in houses. I enjoyed the work and as the small company began to grow we began designing and building more commercial projects and soon Libby and I took out a second mortgage to buy stock in Construction Consultants Inc.

When Jerod was nearly two years old, Libby gave birth to our second son Nathan and seemed as if everything was going perfect for us with two healthy boys, a growing business, a great church, great friends and a close family. Life was good and we often commented to each other and to our friends that were indeed blessed. Then we received a call from the hospital.

The phone rang late one evening as Libby listened to the caller I watched the life drain from her face. Libby quietly hung up the wall phone and starred into Nathan’s eyes. When I asked her who was on the phone she told me that one of the nurses who had been in the delivery room when Nathan was born had called to say that we needed to bring him back in for additional tests. The nurse went on to tell Libby, in a very matter of fact tone, that one of Nathan’s screenings had shown some abnormalities which indicated mental retardation and we needed to make plans to bring him in for additional testing to see the extent of the retardation. Libby and I had just gone from most amazing high to the deepest low in minutes and for the remainder of the evening Libby could not be consoled as she sat in the living room floor cradling Nathan in her arms and sobbing.

Jerod must have sensed the uneasiness in the house that evening because it was difficult to get him to sleep as I spent most of the night in the guest bed next to Jerod’s room because he was so restless. The next morning I found Libby still in the living room holding Nathan praying and sobbing. I never asked if she got up early or stayed up all night because I was in a daze as well. After breakfast I dressed the boys and got them ready to go the hospital while Libby called the doctor’s office to find out where the test would be performed, but when the nurse looked up Nathan’s chart she said there had been a mistake and someone was supposed to call us back to let us know that there had been a mix up in the lab and Nathan’s test was fine.

Libby was not happy with way that the hospital staff handled the situation and that may have been the most angry I have ever seen Libby in our 35 years of marriage (at someone other than me). Libby was a bundle of emotions as she was simultaneously relieved, irritated, ecstatic and frustrated.

If nothing else the episode demonstrated to us both how precarious the good times can be and how quickly things can change, a lesson that we would continue to be taught many more times in our life.

Libby’s Admission of Guilt

On March 31, 2015March 31, 2015 By Barry GilleyIn Uncategorized3 Comments

A few years after Libby and I were married the radio offered two primary music genres, either “pop” music which, at the time, featured the Bee Gees and Elton John or country music which was highlighting a new band on the rise named Alabama. Libby and I enjoyed many of the songs of that Fort Payne band, so when it was announced that Alabama would be playing a concert in Chattanooga I decided to surprise Libby with two tickets so that she and one of her friends could have “a girls night out”.

Now Libby was quick to explain to friends that, at the time, she had a schoolgirl crush on Randy Owen, the bearded lead singer for Alabama, so after enjoying the concert, the girls decided to stay and try to get some autographs. When they finally got to the front of the line for their autographs Randy asked Libby if she would like to have her picture made with him. The star struck Libby thought it would a great way to cap off a fun evening so she said yes. That’s when things got interesting; as Libby posed shoulder to shoulder with her new best friend Randy Owen, she soon became uncomfortable when he put his arm around her for the picture, but that was nothing compared to what happened next.

With several, young girls screaming and yelling in the line behind Libby, the volume of noise was pretty high as they posed for pictures, so it was understandable that Libby had a hard time hearing Randy when he asked her if she wanted a kiss. It was unclear from the explanation of the events whether it was Randy Owen’s boldness, Libby’s naïveté or the groupie noise from the line behind them, or all three, that combined to make communication difficult, but all Libby heard was a garbled sentence. Libby said that she knew Randy had asked her a question so she turned to face him, leaning in closer so she could hear him above the screams and asked, “What did you say …?.” But, just as Libby turned her head toward him, Randy interpreted her movements as consent and proceeded to kiss a very flabbergasted Libby on the mouth with his arm still around her shoulder so she was unable to move.

Later that evening when Libby got home I asked her how she enjoyed the concert and I remember a very strange look on her face. Libby said to me, “Barry we need to talk….”, five words that, from Libby, almost always prefaced a long unpleasant conversation. For those who knew Libby’s personal code of ethics and the high moral standard that guided her decisions, you will understand more than most people, how foolish and guilty Libby felt after what had happened following the concert. Libby’s guilt was magnified since she joked with me before the concert saying, “Are you sure you trust me to go to the concert without you knowing Randy Owen will be there?”

I knew without even hearing the details that Libby had done nothing wrong, but she insisted on explaining what happened and telling me how embarrassed she felt for letting herself get caught up in the moment and acting like a silly school girl. I kept trying to tell her that there was nothing to be ashamed of and that she was not at fault, but it seemed that no amount apologies or discussions relieved the guilt in her mind. I would like to be able to report that I cupped her hands in mine, looked deep into her eyes and reassured her that my love was forever and I was not worried about silly circumstance at a concert….

The truth of what happened next was nothing like the tender romantic interlude that I just described. I said to Libby a little too enthusiastically, “You know, if you feel that guilty about kissing Randy Owen” (this is the point at which Libby reminded me quiet forcibly that she didn’t kiss Randy, Randy kissed her). “Okay sorry” I said, starting over, “You know if you feel that guilty about Randy Owen kissing you , maybe I could kiss Christie Brinkley and we could call it even”?

Looking back now, I probably could have handled that differently, although my off-the-cuff remark stopped Libby from talking about the concert since she elected not to talk to me at all for long time, but it didn’t do a lot to help build our relationship.

The irony here is that two years ago Libby was invited to attend a pink gala celebrity concert complete with limo ride and a pink carpet entrance to benefit the MaryEllen Locher Foundation and honoring cancer survivors. The celebrity that was giving the concert was Randy Owen and Libby and I were invited back stage for a private reception before the concert but when given the chance to talk to Randy this time she refused, keeping an arms length away from him all evening. I couldn’t help but tease her just a little and say, “Libby, just say hi to him, he probably remembers you.” I detected a slight blush in Libby’s face just before I had to avert my eyes because I was getting “the look”.

Our Yard, Driveway and a Somber Anniversary

On March 21, 2015March 21, 2015 By Barry GilleyIn Uncategorized9 Comments

The Front Yard

It’s ironic, that so many of the things that were priorities early in my life are at the opposite end of the spectrum today. I have never been a fanatic about my yard but I like for it to at least have some grass in it, which was challenging with two very active boys and all of their friends. I would try to get the boys to take their golf carts, bicycle ramps, and four-wheelers into the woods behind the house so they didn’t tear up the grass and create bald spots. In spite of my urging, our yard often had dead spots from campfires (some authorized, some not) craters from homemade bombs (some authorized, some not) and long strands of missing sod because of sliding stops on bicycles and the unbridled acceleration of a go-cart.

The Driveway

Later as the boys starting driving I had to remind them to slow down on our long gravel drive because their speeding trucks would cause large potholes and wash-board ruts in the driveway. The biggest speeding offender, however, was Libby because her mind was usually somewhere else as she propped her elbow on the car door and twirled her hair, never realizing that she was going in and out of our driveway at 45 mph! (I know this because I was in the car on several occasions and pointed at the speedometer).

Anniversary Dates

I have always possessed an amazing ability to forget important dates, so much so, that before our wedding my groomsmen gave me a dive watch with our wedding date engraved on the back to help me remember our anniversary. Embarrassingly enough, I looked at the back of that watch often in the ensuing years just to make sure I didn’t forget to buy Libby an anniversary gift, but even with that mnemonic device attached to my wrist, I still managed to forget our anniversary few times.

It seems silly now, years later, that I couldn’t (or wouldn’t) take the time to commit to memory such an important date, but at the time my priorities were different because so many things seemed (to me at least) more important, such as working on the house, keeping the cars repaired, and building a business to provide the financial means to do it all.

Grieve and Regrets

Grieve has a strange way of bringing up seemingly unrelated items at odd times like it did this morning with these three seemingly unrelated memories. The cruel irony is that those same dates I once struggled to remember, plus some new more somber dates, are forever seared into my brain and I am unable to forget them, even on warm spring days like today when I sit alone on my front porch swing and look out over my lush, green, unblemished yard flanked by a perfectly smooth driveway.

Libby’s Love of Children

On March 14, 2015March 14, 2015 By Barry GilleyIn Uncategorized4 Comments

With our wedding, honeymoon and several arguments behind us, Libby would graduate from The University of Tennessee at Chattanooga in the spring of 1980 having completed her student teaching at Howard Elementary School, an inner city school in downtown Chattanooga. Libby’s impact on the students, faculty and administration was immediate and obvious at Howard and every other place in which she taught. Libby had been teaching children since she was fourteen years old in a Sunday School class at her dad’s church, but now she was getting paid to do the thing that she loved most and it was obvious to all who who knew her that she had found her true calling in life.

Now, with Libby working we had two incomes and no college tuition to pay so there was a huge weight lifted off of our financial shoulders. With less financial strain on our relationship we had only minimal disagreements until we clashed over an idea that Libby had while teaching at Howard Elementary when she decided that way too many of her kindergarten students were from broken homes and they would benefit from a positive family experience. Libby thought that the best way for many of her students to have that positive experience would be to bring two or three of her students to our house every weekend so we could take them hiking or fishing on Saturday and then take them to Sunday School and Church on Sunday. Libby had everything worked out in her mind, including the fact that she would simply bring them home on Friday and they would stay at our house until she took them back to school with with her on Monday morning, Then as the year progressed we would be able to keep all of her students at least for a few days and give each of them a positive Christian influence.

Libby’s heart was in the right place but she and I had to have a serious discussion about a few of the practical details that she had failed to consider in her zealous approach to changing her kindergartner’s circumstances such as liability insurance coverage, crossing state lines with minor children, and class action lawsuits. Libby thought everyone looked at the world the same way she did, and although it would be nice if that were so, I had to continually introduce a cynical realism into her pure, idealist world.

In the end, we never kept any children at our home but in spite of that, Libby’s love impacted nearly all of the children that she taught and many times their parents as well. As a compromise for not keeping children in our home, Libby and I spent several weekends in the inner city projects visiting the homes of her students to try and convince their moms that they needed to take an active role in their child’s education, praying with them and giving them books to read to their children.

Libby had some unusual teaching challenges as she taught at Howard Elementary, Graysville Elementary and Chattanooga Valley Elementary; a rule follower by nature, Libby found it completely amazing that people who knew the rules would choose to break one or more of those rules. One memorable challenge involved an unruly, spoiled little kindergarten boy (whom I will call Jonathan). Jonathan was constantly getting into trouble, he was the type of boy that had never been disciplined at home and he found out early in life that a good old fashioned temper tantrum was the key to getting anything he wanted. Now, besides being a rule follower, Libby was confident in her decisions (some may say stubborn) and it was nearly impossible to change her mind once she made it up, and she had made up her mind that Jonathan had a scared, loving, insecure little boy trapped inside a short-tempered bully who needed some discipline and direction in his life, and if his parents wouldn’t provide it then she would.

I was regaled nearly every night at the dinner table with stories of Jonathan being involved in fights, kicking a teacher and bullying other children in their kindergarten class. One day when Libby was trying to correct some errant behavior, Jonathan kicked her in the shin and tried to bite her arm. Libby calmly picked Jonathan up and wrapped her arms around him holding him tight. She had her teaching assistant take the other children out to the playground and Libby continued to restrain Jonathan throughout recess and for most of the remainder of the day. She would talk softly to him saying, “Miss Libby loves you and I only want you to listen to me and be obedient”. When Miss Libby finally released her lovingly firm grip, Jonathan was sullen and quite until he got on the bus to go home, then he told his mom about “that mean old lady teacher” that had picked on him and caused him to miss recess.

The following day Jonathan’s mother stormed into the principal’s office and demanded that the principal withdraw her son from the school and insisted that Mrs. Gilley be disciplined for being so hard on her son. She informed the principal that she would be moving him to a better school with better teachers. That evening when Libby arrived home she cried, saying that she had failed Jonathan and began to question her effectiveness as a teacher. My comforting words for Libby went something like this, “He’s a spoiled brat with an overindulgent mom and you should be happy she transferred him. I would call his new teacher and, as a professional courtesy, warn her of the impending doom!”

Not one to wallow very long in self pity, Libby soon got up from the couch and got busy, she found out where Jonathan was being transferred and the name of his new teacher, then she called Jonathan’s new teacher at home. I thought Libby was going to take my advice and warn the teacher about Jonathan’s behavior problems and tell this new teacher what to expect from the entire psychotic family but no; the whole conversation between Libby and this other teacher involved Libby trying to get Jonathan back into her classroom. (This was one of many examples why, as parents, you would much rather have Libby teach your children than me). Libby told the new teacher that Jonathan was beginning to respond to her, but by changing teachers and schools now it would be the worst possible thing for him reinforcing his manipulative behavior. Libby wanted the teacher’s help in convincing Jonathan’s mother that they should return Jonathan to Libby’s classroom and allow her to continue working with him. Libby’s plea to the teacher and later to her principal fell on deaf ears. The saddest part of this story is that Libby never saw Jonathan again, she did keep up with his progress, or lack thereof, until several years later when she learned that he was in juvenile detention and once more Libby felt like she had let Jonathan down.

The conflict with “Jonathan” epitomizes the commitment and desire Libby had for each child entrusted into her care and I marveled how quickly and completely she could fall in love with the children of strangers throughout our first seven year of marriage, but then we had our own children and things really changed at our house.