Thursday, January 30, 2025

Authorship

 1.30.2025

Two if the most important moments of my life:

1975: “Write down your thoughts.”

—D. E. Hicks

2025: “You broke a lot of writing rules…but it makes sense (or something along those lines).”

—D. E. Hicks


Copyright (2025) S.E. Killingworth. All rights reserved. No portion of this writing may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form without the express written permission of the author. Brief quotations are allowed in critical reviews or articles with appropriate reference notation. 

Boiled Cabbage

 1.28.2025

1964: Remember the boiled cabbage. 


On an unusual day, I went with my Daddy and Momma to see Grandpa Brice and Grandma Olive at their homestead house out in very rural Texas County, Oklahoma. The Oklahoma Panhandle is a region of music: forever blowing winds followed up with delightful chirping birds.


I must have been about 5 years old. My older siblings were then grown, out of the house, off at university, or at school. 


You cousins know there were very few moments that only one child was within the realm of Grandma Olive and Grandpa Brice’s presence! If one grandchild was present, then usually many were in the space as well. 


Grandma Olive had prepared boiled cabbage. That one dish was so delicious with some salt and pepper added. I’m sure we had other food too, but forever in my mind’s eye, I will remember sitting at that table: Grandma Olive, Grandpa Brice, Daddy, Momma, and me. Rare moments. Delectable boiled cabbage.  


Copyright (2025) S.E. Killingworth. All rights reserved. No portion of this writing may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form without the express written permission of the author. Brief quotations are allowed in critical reviews or articles with appropriate reference notation. 


S.E. Killingworth

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Thursday, November 7, 2024

Forward

11.7.2024

Keep moving forward, no matter what. 

Copyright (2024) S.E. Killingworth. All rights reserved. No portion of this writing may not be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form without the express written permission of the author. Brief quotations are allowed in critical reviews or articles with appropriate reference notation. 


S.E. Killingworth

Blog: hickskillingsworth.blogspot.com

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Sunday, November 3, 2024

Sibling Association Theory

 11.3.2024

“I only knew who I was because of whom my siblings are (or something to that effect).”

[Kieran is one of six siblings.]

Kieran Culken

CBS Sunday Morning


Copyright (2024). S.E. Killingworth. All rights reserved. No portion of this writing may not be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form without the express written permission of the author. Brief quotations are allowed in critical reviews or articles with appropriate reference notation. 

Sunday, October 27, 2024

Robin

 Gifford R. Hicks, 11.28.1912-11.30.1985

When our Dad died in a horrific crash, hit by a salt-water truck on an ice-covered highway intersection during the “Ice Bowl,” November 30, 1985, it is assumed he was killed instantly. The day was themed “Ice Bowl,” as University of Oklahoma and Oklahoma State University competed in the annual adversarial football phenomenon during a very heavy ice and snow-event. 

G. Rae, our sister, had fed Dad hot soup and scalding coffee (his favorites), and begged him to stay at her house overnight in Stillwater. He declined, got in his big yellow car, and drove away. 

After leaving our sister’s home in Stillwater, Oklahoma, Dad headed east on Highway 51 toward Tulsa, but then turned south on Highway 18 into Cushing. Being a man of few communications, we can only surmise that he might have been driving to his sister Deloris’ house in Cushing, one of his contacts in that area. Dad’s pet name for Deloris was “Diddle” or “Dot.” Or maybe he was just taking the route that would take him back home. 

And that was that. 

Dad’s grueling, instantaneous death is one for which I am now grateful, in that he didn’t lie suffering for days on end, in a hospital bed. He had indeed gone home. 

Dad’s pet name for me was, “Sugar.” That let me know he loved me even though I cannot recall a time when he said those “love” words in his, “Don’t cry!” world of existence.  

I did cry endlessly after his death was announced. He was not there in body to tell me not to cry. In fact, it seemed he cried with me in many of the years thereafter when I could often feel his presence in the big red/orange robin that flies in and lands from time to time on our back fence. (The meaning of seeing a robin: hope, courage, renewal.) 

—S. E. Killingworth

11.30.2023

Copyright 2023. S.E. Killingworth. All rights reserved. No portion of this writing may not be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form without the express written permission of the author. Brief quotations are allowed in critical reviews or articles with appropriate reference notation. 

Christmas' Past

My mother's baking pans emerged today, as my sweet husband began making oven-baked bread for Christmas. Interesting how one little object can draw out so many distinct memories. I recall so vividly arriving home from school, jumping off the big yellow Yarbrough school bus driven by either Clifford or Ferry Taylor, and being drawn into the house by the smell of home-made bread. Oh, the delightful goodness of eating fresh-out-of-the-oven bread with butter melting on the top! More than the distinct smell coming from the house as we ran in for the snack, is the memory of belonging; the sheer value in knowing our Mom cared enough to have the bread ready for us at the exact time we arrived home from school. We are so fortunate!

Copyright 2014. S.E. Killingworth. All rights reserved. No portion of this writing may not be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form without the express written permission of the author. Brief quotations are allowed in critical reviews or articles with appropriate reference notation. 

Thursday, October 24, 2024

Pigeon-Speak

 10.20.2023

Pigeons- 

~Mate for life.

~Both parents care for young.

~Can fly up to 50 miles per hour.

~Can travel up to 500 miles per day.

~Oxford University study concluded that pigeons rely more on their knowledge of human transport routes than their own internal magnetic compasses. 

~Pigeons commit new images to memory at lightening speed.

~Categorize images mirroring the way that humans conceptualize thought processes.

~Are a symbol of peace and innocence.

S. E. Killingworth 


Copyright 2023. S.E. Killingworth. All rights reserved. No portion of this writing may not be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form without the express written permission of the author. Brief quotations are allowed in critical reviews or articles with appropriate reference notation. 


S.E. Killingworth

Blog: hickskillingsworth.blogspot.com

FB: @sekillingworth

Instagram: @sekillingworth

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