Blogger Profile - Lady Roots

Our next visit with other bloggers takes us down to the Caribbean for a visit with the most distinguished Lady Roots

1. So why is Clay Perry your favorite blog to read?

I find it soul-refreshing to read the heart-felt writings of a man who is so deeply in love with his wife and both of his sons. His respect and love for his father fills, for me, a void that my own father left. He cherishes his Mother. He is a craftsman who puts the best of himself in each carving. I give thanks for each small entry I am allowed into the lives of the Perry clan.

2. What is it that you love about Jamaica?

This is where my soul is most at peace.

3. When you left the states what did you miss the most upon arriving in Jamaica?

My Mom, kids, grandkids, sisters, and brothers who still live in America.

4. What do you use as inspiration for your bead work?

Prayer and a willingness to follow the beading muse where ever she takes me.

5. What led you to decide to leave corporate America for a life in the Caribbean?

Nineteen years of vacationing in Jamaica and realizing each year it was harder and harder to leave.

6. When you have completed a piece of jewelry, do you ever feel a bit of separation anxiety when its handed off to someone?

Every time. It is like giving them a piece of myself.

7. In speaking of spirituality, what motivates you?

I am motivated by faith and prayer.

8. Favorite musician?

Ernie Ranglin - Brushy One String - Taj Mahal - Lightning Hopkins - BB King

9. From all the experiences you have had throughout life, what is the one moment you find yourself revisiting the most?

March 6, 2002 when I learned something that ripped the fabric of my entire life. I am still recovering, but not willing to reveal specific details.

10. Giving your life as it is right now, what one word do you feel would best sum it all up?

Deserved!

Patrick Perry... Fifteen years and counting...

Fifteen years ago today I was pacing at the hospital, completely horrified and not able to think of anything for more than a few seconds...

Julie was pregnant, the night before I was playing video games and she walked into the den and told me that she was having contractions. This had happened a couple of times, so I asked her how far apart they were and what she thought. She told me that they were about an hour apart and that she didn't know if it was "it" or not. She settled into my chair as I sat on the floor playing games, took my pocket watch and began to time the pains. I asked her if she thought we should go to the hospital and she told me that she didn't think so... A couple of hours later I told her that I was going to bed, asked how she was doing and headed off telling her to call me if she needed me.

The next morning I woke up and got ready for work. I headed into the den expecting to see her asleep on the couch. What met my sight was her sitting in the exact same position that I had left her in the night before.

"Are you still having pains?"
"Yep"
"Well how how far apart are they?"
"About five minutes..."
"Holy shit what do we do, who do we call, oh god oh god oh god..."

We made our way to the hospital a bit after seven A.M. and a bit after noon, Patrick was born. I had not decided whether or not I was going to be in the delivery room, and had full intentions of remaining... Yet when the staff went into action and it turned into a scene from Trauma Center.. I ran like hell... My sister stayed in the room with her. We didn't know what gender the baby was and had picked out names. I waited and paced and smoked and worried about everything. My sister emerged some time later and said, "We have a Patrick!!"

I was frightened of everything and barely remember all that took place... The procedures and hours that followed were a blur.. The moment that it all caught up to us, was when we left the hospital and got in the car. He was sitting in his car seat, with just his eyes poking up over the edge of the buckle holding him in... I laughed like you wouldn't believe... The look he had on his face clearly said, "What in the hell have you people done to me.." as he glanced back and forth from me to Julie...

Patrick was an extremely good baby and toddler.. the most laid back child I have ever met. When he started school I told Julie that if we got any sort of notes from teachers about him needing to be on Ritalin I would laugh.. If that kid had been anymore laid back he would've oozed right off the couch into a puddle on the floor... One of my favorite video moments is when I filmed walking down the hall into the front room one afternoon during the summer and he was kicked back on the couch, in only a diaper, with his legs crossed, one hand behind his head and a bottle in the other, steady drinking... I panned from him to the television as he watched the ubiquitous barney tape that never left his side... as I returned to him in the shot, he gave me the same look that he did in the car when we first brought him home.

Being first time parents we worried about everything and felt like we fell short with him constantly, but as with everyone, time went by and we learned... The first time he ran a serious fever we stayed up around the clock in a state of panic for a couple of days... First time parents.. heh.. In comparison, when James had his first serious fever it was, "Give him some Tylenol and toss him in bed... Where's the remote?"

Throughout his childhood we watched as he developed through daycare and family and spent time alone and with friends.. We read to him constantly... and let him do things that he wanted to do, with guidance when we felt he needed it.

Now what we are faced with is a very good kid, he does anything that we ask. Being fifteen today he is absolutely full of teen attitude, but then it's that time for him to have it and I won't begrudge him that experience... His latest kick is to get a Mohawk... I told him that he could if he wanted to, just to be ready for the shit... he will be made fun of and the teachers will probably send him out and we will probably get a call... but hey, you're only young once... the only line I will draw is a tattoo... he must be at least eighteen and on his own before he gets one of those.. and I must be the one to do it...

Patrick is a very polite guy, very kind and has an extremely tender heart. We share a love of gory movies, reading and old video games, I say old because he can kick my butt at anything that came out in the last ten years... I have relayed stories to him about our past and have taught him a few things that I hope will serve him well, but I let him make his own decisions on most things... Little mistakes are ok, and you learn from them..

He helps out around the house as slave labor and watches his little brother.. they fight like cats and dogs, but he will protect James with his life.. and that's just how brothers should be...

Happy birthday Patrick, I love you....

Now take the garbage out...

Sunday Morning coming down

I have been sick....

I ate too much ice cream Friday night, and the gallstones I have didn't like it at all. Starting around 2:30 Friday night/Saturday morning I began a series of "extreme nausea" attacks that occurred every 20 to 45 minutes and did not stop. Extreme nausea... medical terminology for puking your guts out around the clock...

The attacks did not stop until Julie called the Dr. and went to retrieve some highly unpleasant medicine they called in for me. It seems to have worked a bit, I still feel very touchy... and I think the time may have come for this thing to be removed... although the thought of being under all sorts of medication while someone removes something from me is not a great thing to look forward to, this is stealing my life away from me.. or I could just eat right.... nahhhh.. surgery is the way to go...

Thanks Julie for taking care of me and thanks to James and Patrick for opening the door periodically and asking if I was ok....

Underground Right Wing Fanatic

Damn... reeducation will not be fun...


I hate that I am going to have to learn how to think all over again... Here I was all comfortable with who I am and what I thought I was, then... oops... I was wrong.

It seems that after all this time I have just never realized that I was a racist war monger. I'm very thankful that ms. garofalo has cleared this up for me.. at least I wont be confused anymore... Protesting the war in Iraq is ok, it's cool to be an anarchist and attack cops and damage property to get your point across. That's quite the correct thing to do. It's fine to shout down people that show up at a college to speak, or throw pies at them, or attack them... That's what being a good little radical is all about...

fad and fashion...

To redefine what a true radical is seems to be in order.

The true radicals are the ones who get out of bed every morning and head off to work, who don't expect anyone to help them out and never ask. They take no money from the government in any form, just pay into a system that would be illegal if private enterprise attempted to pull it off. They are the ones who give time, goods and money for causes they believe in without talking about it. They make no sound or seek no attention when things go bad, they are just there to start picking up the pieces, quietly setting to work as everyone else complains. They smile to themselves when they are made fun of, take it on the chin and keep going. When they find themselves unemployed, they look for a job until they find one. When they make a commitment, they stick to it and work through the rough parts. Their heads are down, their noses to the grind stone and their shoulders and hearts encumbered constantly as they simply do what must be done. They simply seek freedom. They toe the line, all the damn time.

But something is happening that people need to pay attention to... they are getting tired.

Fifty hours of work, followed by a trip to resupply at a crowded market with kids hanging on to you wanting what you can't afford to give them, buying food that isn't quite what you want, but fills everyone up.. and you get in line behind someone paying with a government issued card you paid for... and man, they eat good...

Standing in stunned silence watching live as three thousand of your countrymen die because they went about their business on a bright Tuesday morning... then getting to see your commander in chief bow before the king of the land most of the perpetrators were born in...

Wincing when a country not involved in said attack was bombed for a litany of convoluted reasons...

Worrying from day to day about keeping a job while watching people that began the economic tumble by inflating stocks and stealing from the people that produced the goods and services that lined their pockets being forced to sell one of their homes to pay a fine before they jet to Paris for lunch...

Shaking your head as you watch four people hold off a military multiple days waiting for orders that never came, until a man in the field could take it no longer and put his career and standing on the line and said, "Do it"...

Reading through a text book your child brings home that gives Lincoln three pages while reserving and entire chapter for bill clinton...

Watching silently as greed, ignorance and arrogance destroy that which you hold dear, this Republic that thousands have given their lives for...

Then being tired, fed up with watching your time in the form of money you earn flow out to every country on this planet, as their leaders sit in a building in new york and call you a back water rube.. you see something beginning, thousands of people coming together to say enough is enough...

and what is the reported reaction?



"a bunch of teabagging rednecks, this is about hating a black man in the White House. This is racism straight up."





It does not matter what race you are, what gender you are, what nationality you are or whether you are right or left of center...

We are tired...

Who is John Gault?

It's late....

There is a strong band of thunder storms moving through the area and I can't sleep... I have the television on watching for tornado warnings, there's one currently for Fulton and Clayton counties...

Straight line winds of sixty miles per hour, hail, strong thunder and lightening... a usual storm, nerve wracking when you are surrounded by lots of trees, any one of which has the capability of smashing your home into oblivion...

I flipped from the online radar to the television, the bulk of everything has passed by now, yet I am not going to bed...

James is snoring on the couch and just laughed out loud in his sleep...

Now I can go to bed... Peace has come at last...

2009 Georgia Renaissance Festival