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The Homecoming Tree — 20 years!
My mother and father married on July 27,1935 in the middle of the Great Depression. Most Americans have no idea how bad times were in 1935. My father wanted to be a farmer and by the time 1940 rolled around their family was almost starving. My mother laid down the law and my parents along with my brother and sister moved from the tiny watermelon capital of Louisiana, Saline to the big city of Shreveport. My father was fortunate to get a job at the post office thanks to his brother in law. My mother went to work at Sears & Roebuck downtown.
They leased a house of Buckner Street with plenty of room for the family. Then, in 1941, the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. My father was thirty days away from being deployed to Europe when he was told as an employee of the U. S. Post Office, he would keep his job.
Soon after, my uncles from Saline left for Europe or the Pacific. Their families, one by one, moved in with my parents. My father converted a back porch into two bedrooms. The Hennigan “boarding” house was in business.
One of my aunts worked as a taxi driver in Shreveport during the war and the stories my parents told about her antics showed she was far ahead of her time! I loved to sit just off my uncle’s living room in Saline while my parents and their brothers, sisters, and in laws shelled peas and shucked corn and told about life during the Depression and World War II.
In 1999 I had converted all of my parents’ photographs from the past century into an old fashion slide show. My brother, born in 1937, joined them and I turned on the video camera while they told me their life story. Slide by slide we covered their lives from 1914 until to the early 1950’s. In particular, I was interested in life in Shreveport and Bossier City during the war.
In 1992, I became the drama director at Brookwood Baptist Church. By 2005, I had written and directed over 100 long and short dramas and I was ready to move on from drama to dedicate my time to writing books. For my last production, I decided to write a play based on my parents’ stories from World War II for our holiday production in 2005.
“The Homecoming Tree” told the story of a family living in Shreveport from their Thanksgiving meal up through Christmas Eve 1941. It was a huge production covering the entire stage area of our new church campus and featured over fifteen actors and actresses. We had a snow machine for outside scenes. We turned the baptistery into a radio studio. My mother had passed away in 2004 but my father recorded a 1940’s song and along with songs from 1941 it played during the scene changes. I had a three camera setup to record the entire production. (Unfortunately, one of the main actors routinely got off track in the third act and we had to flail around a bit to get everyone back on task.) However, it was one of the best received productions at Brookwood Baptist Church.
A few years passed and I was not happy with one of the characters I had created. I imagined a different framing for the story and rewrote the play featuring a modern day business man about to ruin his family by running off with his secretary. In order to teach him the importance of family, he is sent back in time to 1941 with amnesia and has to learn the lessons of the Greatest Generation. To be honest, many churches asked for the script but because of the scope of the production, they were unable to produce the play.
I decided to write a novelization of the play. “The Homecoming Tree” novel premiered in 2018. Great reviews followed. One reviewer said it reminded him of his favorite Christmas movie, “It’s a Wonderful Life” (which was totally intentional on my part) and that reviewer reads the book every Christmas to get into the spirit of the holidays.
This year marks the twentieth anniversary of “The Homecoming Tree” play and I want to encourage everyone to check out the book for this Christmas. Now, more than ever, we need to remember the sacrifices and devotion of the “Greatest Generation” as they fought and defeated evil throughout the world in order to bring about freedom and liberty.
You can find out more about the book at this link.
Grab a Girdle . . .
Okay, so this is totally off the beaten path. No medical angle. No talking about Dr. Jack Merchant. I have been watching “Leanne” on Netflix. If you haven’t discovered Leanne Morgan, go to Netflix or Youtube and watch some of her comedy specials BEFORE you watch the new series. And try, for now, to avoid the little baby girl overlays of her comedy. You’ll see what I mean. You must see Leanne’s facial expressions to get her comedy.
Then, go to Netflix and watch the new series. Bring a tissue. You’ll be crying with laughter. Leanne Morgan is from Tennessee and her southern accent is genuine and, for this southern boy, strangely comforting. It brings back many memories of growing up on a farm in Blanchard, Louisiana. She is my people!
You can also find many video posts on Youtube with Leanne interviewed by famous people such as Oprah about her series. But the best is with Amy Poehler. During that interview, Leanne talks about her battle with Spanx and girdles and after I got myself up off the floor, a memory from my childhood surfaced.
That’s my mother on the far right at Grand Canyon when I was ten. I’m the kid looking away from the camera. The other two kids are my nephews and my older sister, Gwen, is their mother. The guy in the middle is my father, of course.
My mother was larger than life. Literally. Her entire life, she fought the battle of the bulge. Once, and only once, successfully losing a hundred pounds. She had TOPS to thank. What is TOPS? Take Off Pounds Sensibly! Maybe a Weight Watchers precursor? Guess what? It still exists.
I tell the story of the time I bit into a salad mother made from a TOPS recipe only to find plastic netting in my mouth. Green plastic netting! The recipe said to substitute it for real lettuce to cut down on the calories. And to put fiber in your diet! I think I pooped a flower arrangement!
Tab was the drink of choice back then filled with that mouse bladder cancer agent saccharin. I drank it just like my Mom because I was a hefty, chunky little boy who had to wear “Husky” jeans. A nice word for fat boy breeches. And don’t get me started on Metrical. Those little dry, flaky biscuits could have been used for door stops. And stop me up they did! Anyway, I digress.
But, the battle of bulge reached critical proportions every Sunday morning. My father was a bivocational music director and he served in various small churches my entire life. This meant we were at the church every time the doors were open. Now, my mother drove a school bus. And her preferred clothing was double knit polyester pants and flowered blouses. She made both, by the way, from that lovely, indestructible polyester cloth that will be wrapped around indestructible styrofoam in a landfill. A thousand years from now someone will find that blouse and pair of pants and wear them with a Styrofoam cooler for a hat.
For a short period of time, she made me shirts to wear to junior high school. I tried to burn them in the trash, but as I said, they were indestructible!
On Sunday mornings, when I was young, between about 6 and 10, my mother would call me into her bedroom as she was getting dressed for Sunday morning. She agreed to wear a dress on Sunday morning instead of her slacks because, after all, she was the music director’s wife. She won a battle once to allow her to wear her pants on Sunday evening, but that is a story for another day.
My mother would be standing by the bed with her girdle halfway up her legs. My job was to climb up on the bed and grab the top of her girdle and pull with all my might. My father couldn’t do the job. His hands were too big to fit between the girdle’s lip and my mother’s, uh, skin.
I would heave an ho and pull and tug and grunt and sweat until finally, the girdle would slide up into place and my mother, red faced and short of breath would declare victory. I never thought about this odd request. Didn’t all boys help their mothers with their girdles? Of course they did.
Until I heard Leanne Morgan talk about her girdle and her struggle to get it up over her stomach “the size of a small purse”.
I laugh about this today. I never shared that girdle gridiron touchdown story with anyone until I got married. My wife never wore a girdle. In fact, the word girdle has all but disappeared from our vocabulary replaced with more acceptable euphemisms.
My mother passed away in 2004. And I miss her. But I must admit, I don’t miss the great girdle hitch me up!
Check out Leanne on Netflix and laugh. Now, when she mentions her girdle, you’l see why I found myself on the floor in tears!
The House on Buckner Street
We sat around our dining room table and I listened in amazement at my parents’ stories. The year was 1999 and I had taken my parents many photos and produced an old fashioned slide show for one of their anniversaries. Now, I wanted to hear the stories behind those photographs. I pointed my video camera at the screen as each black and white photo appeared. A carefully placed microphone in the center of the dining room table picked up the running commentary from my mother, father, and my brother as they related their memories.
We passed through photographs from the 1920’s and the 1930’s and arrived at the beginning of the 1940’s. It was at this point, the comments became more serious. My father and mother moved from the tiny country town of Saline, Louisiana to the big, bustling town of Shreveport in 1941. They rented a house “on Buckner Street” with many bedrooms. My father went to work for the post office. My mother worked now and then, children’s needs permitting, at the downtown Sears & Roebuck department store.
Then, December 7, 1941 happened. The world turned upside down and changed forever. What became known as World War II began. My father was slated to be drafted in June, 1942 but a bill by Congress passed restricting the upper age limit for draftees and my father was too old to be drafted. Just thirty days from deployment. And it helped he was a federal employee at an important government entity, the post office.
My many uncles were not so fortunate. Those men whose experiences in life were mainly spent behind the swaying backend of a plowing mule suddenly found themselves sent far away to Europe or to the Pacific. The wives, mothers, and children ended up coming to “the house on Buckner Street” as the war waged on. Sisters would move in to a room at my parents’ house until they found a job and moved into an apartment. My father enclosed the back porch and made two additional bedrooms for more migrant relatives.
The colorful and at times, painful stories all came out at that dining room table. Stories of hardship and sacrifice. Stories of lost loves and missing relatives. Stories of the grit and resolve of “the Greatest Generation”.
These men and women lived through the harsh times of the Great Depression which prepared them for the necessary sacrifices of the years ahead as the world plunged into war. They were ready, prepared having learned how to use everything in the pig but “the oink”. A generation of true patriots who loved God and loved freedom and loved their country.
We will not see their like again, I fear. But they were there when this country needed them.
On this day, December 7th, Pearl Harbor Day I salute my parents’ generation for most of them have gone on to their eternal reward. And they have left us with haunting memories and fading photographs and a legacy we can only begin to appreciate.
That session at the dining room table inspired me to write a play, “The Homecoming Tree” produced in 2005. In 2016, I released my novelization of that play and it is available to purchase at all book sites. I never imagined that simple hour spent around the dining room table would lead to a book that some of my readers say they re-read every Christmas.
Here’s to Lena and Slayton Hennigan and the example they set for me and my generation and generations to come. I love you and miss you. Thank you for your quiet, constant example of hard work, sacrifice, and unconditional love.
Five Ways to Put Away Digital “Idols”
In my recent interviews, I talked about five things that we can do to avoid being sucked in to the digital world. For parents, number one applies. For EVERYONE, all five apply.
1 — Parents get involved in your kids’ lives. We are afraid of technology and, frankly, we don’t understand our kids’ fascination with all kinds of social media. So, we tend to pull back and nag. Instead, parents need to realize this digital world is NECESSARY for our kids in today’s world. They cannot separate from it completely. Once we get that, then we understand that we must help our kids learn how to control the digital world without letting the digital world control them. More on this later. Parents need to sit down and talk face to face with kids about WHY they want to play video games; WHAT is in the video games; WHEN it is inappropriate to play games hours on end; and HOW to walk away from it. Don’t use technology as a babysitter!!!! Remember, garbage in, garbage out. What kids put into their minds STAYS there and IDEAS have consequences! This is where the other four points come in!
2 — TURN IT OFF! Tech rules the world. Digital devices scream from all around us for our attention. We know they’re there, waiting with a very important message for us. So, take a technology fast. Start slowly. Break away for a few minutes a day and try to work up to an hour or so. Turn off the cell phone once you get home and be AT HOME! Leave the work at work! I love music, but take time to just think, meditate, and pray without music. For instance try driving to work with NOTHING turned on. Take your run, walk, or workout with no IPOD! You might hear something; see something; experience something brand new and life changing! I know! It make us nervous just thinking about it! And, that nervousness tells us something very important. We are controlled by our tech! Anything that controls our lives is our idol; our god. Become a tech atheist! Control the tech or it will control you! Check out this link: http://www.qideas.org/blog/do-you-need-a-technology-fast.aspx
3 — Be creative. Find a creative outlet. Do something creative. Art. Music. Photography. Write. Poetry. Crayons. Paint. Draw. Blog. Rearrange your office. Redecorate. Being creative utilizes different parts of your brain other than the parts utilizing tech. Immersion in our technical world burns out part of our brains and, let’s face it, in today’s culture the one thing that replenishes these chemicals, sleep is sadly lacking!
4 — Trade virtual community for REAL community. Imagine you are broken down on the side of the road in the middle of a raging storm. Who are you going to call to come help? Can your “friends” on Facebook living three states away be there within 30 minutes to give you a lift? I don’t think so. I don’t want to diminish virtual friends. My wife plays bridge online and she has made dozens of friends. But, there is no substitute for face time. And, I don’t mean the Apple program. The power of human interaction face to face is so important. We are seeing an entire generation of people who no longer have the important interpersonal social skills to communicate in person. They cannot handle contact. They lack the skills needed to build intimate, loving relationships. Men are waiting into their 30’s to get married because they can’t handle a relationship that demands more than a bright screen with pornography playing on it.
So, find real people in a real location. Go to a coffee shop. Go to the, yes I will say it, mall! Go to church. My wife made certain that the people she cared about online became part of our lives. There are a dozen women my wife met playing bridge and now they get together once a year for a week and play bridge. Two of those friends have become my wife’s best friends. We have visited one of her friends here in the states more than once and we have gotten to know her family and friends. Our REAL world is much larger and richer now. Another friend living in New Zealand came to the states this past spring to meet with some of the bridge ladies and she and my wife have become fast friends. We are visiting her and her family in New Zealand in the fall. Imagine this. I have always wanted to visit New Zealand. Now that my wife has made friends with someone in New Zealand, we not only get to visit, we get to see our friend’s world from her perspective and I cannot wait!!!! See the benefits of transferring your virtual world to your real world?
5 — Invest your time and energy in something that will last beyond your lifetime. In other words, take an eternal perspective. You don’t have to belong to a particular religion to use this tool. All it takes is for us to turn our attention away from ourselves for a season and on those around us in need. Charities. Homeless. Missions. Children. Mentoring. Take that creative process I mentioned earlier and use it for someone or something else. Years ago, a friend of mine was down and depressed. We wandered around that morning as I just simply spent some time with him. We ended up at a local art fair and a group of people were involved in completing an outside mosaic with broken tiles. We joined in. Now, my friend’s life is back on track and he is actively involved in his church, his community, and in local theater touching hundreds of lives every week. And, that mural? It’s still there for anyone to see, cheering people up every time they see it. And, our story? We’re making a book and a movie about that mural!
Take a cue from Walt Disney. When he built Disneyland he had one purpose: to create a “magical” world where families could spend time together. And Disney had a simple philosophy: “it will never be complete”. It will keep growing and changing and improving to touch families for generations to come. He looked far beyond his lifetime and that vision touches millions of families around the world every day!
Bruce Hennigan 
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