loumercerwordsofwisdom.blogspot.com

Monday, October 31, 2011

Halloween is a bad time of year.

Yesterday was October 30.  Had I remained with my kids dad we would have celebrated or in some way acknowledged 51 years of marriage, but I did not, and since he is no longer in this world I am assuming he did not either.  1964 marked the one and only time he took me out for our anniversary.  Took me to Saint Catherines Hospital in Garden City, Kansas and I gave birth to my third daughter, Dona Marie.  One year later to the day, he took me on a trip back to Hutchinson as my only brother was in a coma from a car crash the day before.  He died the next morning which was Halloween.  So you see, Halloween is not much fun here at my house.
But I do recall the Halloween's we had in Nickerson and they did not even faintly resemble the ones I see here in Pueblo County.  See. we did not buy a costume.  I had never heard of a costume shop.  We did what is know as improvise.  If mother happened to come across an old sheet in one of her cleaning jobs that was cabbaged on to and brought home and saved for Halloween.  Cut a couple eye holes and you were good to go as a ghost.  Old clothes were never tossed until after Halloween.  Hell, they were never tossed.  More about that later.  So when we left the house we were dressed as a ghost, a farmer (overalls), or a hobo (a stick with a bundle on the end of it), or a little kid going to school. The inside of the old wood stove gave us the black paint necessary to smear on our face so nobody knew who we were.
Brother Jake always led the pack with strict instructions that he was to watch out for the little ones and not let them get lost out there in the dark.  Hell, we held on to each other and if one of us got lost, we were all goners.  We knew that this was Halloween and that meant the real ghosts were out there and the Gypsy's were camped on the edge of town and we might not ever get home again.  Halloween was a very dangerous time.  I do not think sister Joanne went with us because she became interested in the boys very early and married an older man from town before I was even old enough to really know what marriage even was.  I just knew he had a black and white car and it was really nice.  But back to the streets.
"Oh, look Elmer, it is all six of them!  Let's see what we got here for these little ghosts and goblins."  And we would all hold out our brown paper bags which were saved just for this occasion. See back in those days there were no plastic bags.  Those came much later and were considered a luxury.  And she would smile at each of us and put a home baked cookie in our bag.  Or a piece of cake, or fudge or a hand full of store bought candy corn if we were really lucky.  Some times we would each get an apple.  Or an orange.  Most times they were just wrapped in a piece of wax paper or maybe nothing at all.  But that was back in the day before people started putting stuff in the home made cookies to kill little kids or sliding a razor blade into an apple so when they bit into it their gums would be sliced.
Yeah, that was back in the good old days of front porches, happy neighbors, good clean fun and everybody watching out for the little ones.  And as much as I miss those days, there were signs then of what was to come.  Nickerson was a little town with maybe 1200 people, but even then there were signs of what was to be.  We knew we needed to be off the streets and home before 8:00 because then the bullies came out.  Only one year did the bullies get our candy.  They just ran out of the dark and grabbed out bags and ran away.  My God, mother could her us wailing as we came home and thought surely the Gypsy's had gotten one of us this time for sure.  But my mother was wise beyond belief.
She knew who the bullies were and she was not even there.  The next day she left the house early and when she returned she had a big brown sack full of goodies for us.  Of course we immediately ate enough to make us very sick.  But the point here is this;  small towns are open books.  You just kind of know who the trouble makers are.  There were three of them in our town and they hung together.  Now whether my mother went to the bullies homes or just did daylight trick or treating and explained to every one what had happened,  I do not know. 
And trick or treating and Halloween aside, I would not trade my growing up years in Nickerson, Kansas, for all the tea in China.  While we were poor, we were rich.  I had a guy tell me just yesterday that he is rich beyond beleif because he has friends and a home and a dog and what more could one man need.  And he is right.  As I get older I find it takes less to make me a happy content woman.  Nickerson is always in my head.  I can travel to the ends of the world and meet Kings and Queens, but I will always be the little ragamuffin girl from Nickerson, afraid of my shadow and always needing my momma.  I can bury my brother, but I can never bury Louella Bartholomew because she will live forever my heart.   My hope is that some day, some one will pick up one of my journals and actually read it and think, " I would love to have met this woman.  And her mother.  And her brother.  And I wonder where her kids are today."
But right now, this is just another day to get through and I can feel my brother over my left shoulder as I write this, and I can see his lopsided grin and the long scar on his left cheek where the horse kicked him when he 9 years old and he snuck up behind the horse and "goosed" it.  He changed the date on his birth certificate and joined the Army at 16 years old.  That was before computers.  I sure do miss that boy and can not help but wonder about the man he could have become had he stayed on this side of the veil with me.  I guess today I will mourn the "what could have been." 
Happy Halloween.

Friday, October 28, 2011

And here is my sainted Mother when she was a Senior in high school.

I look at this picture and I can see a lot of myself in it.  Our teeth were identical; the same smile lines.  We both have the blue/gray eyes that change from one color to the other depending on what we are wearing and our mood.  My cheek bones are higher than hers.  We both had auburn hair.  In later years her's was completely silver.  Mine is still salt and pepper.
Mother worked hard all of her life.  I never knew a time when her hands were not busy.  I guess the first recollections I have of mom and dad were when we lived on the Alemore place in Nickerson.  It must have been located about a mile Southeast of town.  I had not started school yet.  We lived in a 2 bedroom shack with a kitchen and front room.  I call it a shack because it was not painted, not insulated, no electric, the water was in a pump out the back door.  Sister Josephine was in charge of us little kids while mom worked in town cleaning houses for the rich ladies. 
Now I am sorry to tell you this, because I know her kids read this sometimes, but my sister Joanne, as we called her, was very mean.  I recall once when my brother Jake and I walked up to Bull Creek and caught the biggest bull frog you ever seen.  I put it in my dress tail and ran home to show her so she would give me a box to put it in.  Well when I opened my dress tail that damn frog leaped out right in the front room.  She went ballistic and started beating me with the broom.  "You catch that damn thing and get it out of here!  Hurry up!  Hurry up before it pees on my clean floor!"
Well, I do not work well under pressure and crawling around under beds trying to catch that jumping frog was definitely not something I was good at.  But she solved the problem by whacking it with the broom and then beating it to death there in the middle of the bedroom.  And guess who had the honor of cleaning up that mess?  Thirty minutes later my beloved frog was in the field out back and the floor was once more spotless.  She did not know that Jake and I buried the frog and I cried.  Seems like I spent most of my childhood in tears over one silly thing or another.  Jake was always my friend.
Up the road from us was the Rumble's house.  They were an old couple who always waved at me when I went by and sometimes I stopped.  He taught me the words to Buttons and Bows  and when I sang it alone the first time he gave me a shiny dime!  Back in those days a dime was a lot of money.  I lost it and that was that.  Across the road lived the Barthold sisters who were school teachers.  They had a forest behind their house and Jake and I used to crawl through the underbrush when they were in the back yard having tea and spy on them.  Damn!  That was exciting!
Back in those days we had phones and we were all on party lines.  The way you used the phone was pick up the earpiece and then crank the handle on the side for what ever the person you were calling's ring was.  That is if they were on your party line.  Other wise you cranked a long ring and got the operator, Mrs. Humphrey.  We were fond of picking up the ear piece and cranking in someone's ear who was talking on the phone.  Got a lot of lickings over that little trick.
My dad liked to drink in his younger days.  One year he was going to the fair in Hutch and mom made him take all of us.  Well, as soon as we hit the fairgrounds he found the beer tent.  He lined the three of us up on a bench ( little kids had to stay home) and told us to stay there for a little bit.  Hours later he bought us each an ice cream cone before he went back in to have "just one more and then we will go home."  As I recall that ice cream it seems like it was probably pineapple sherbert.  It was not good.  I was hot and tired and kept falling asleep, but we were all three scared to move cause where could we go?  Let me tell you, see that sweet little woman up there?  She damned near ripped that man's head off his body when we arrived home and she found out we had spent the whole day on a bench while he drank.  I actually think that was the end of his drinking days!
Our stay at the Ailmore house ended when a tornado (but they called it a cyclone for some reason) hit and blew everything away except the house and the big cottonwood tree at the end of the drive.  But what does any of this have to do with my mother?  I will tell you.  That period of our lives was spent in abject poverty.  That was the period of time when I learned, although I would not realize it for many years, what a real woman must do to survive with her children.  My mother had a will of iron and a spine of steel.  She went without so us kids could eat.  She worked all day and mended our clothes at night.  She foraged and canned food for the winter.  She could wring the neck on a chicken and have it plucked and in the pot with out ever losing the ethereal quality that shone from her eyes. 
There is a passage in the Bible that tells about my mother.  It is the one that says "Her husband shall call her blessed and her children shall adore her.  She shall rise up early in the morning."  That was my mother.  If I could be a fraction of the woman she and my grandmother were I would die a happy woman. 
I recall the very last time I saw my mother.  I had gone for my usual 5 day visit and when I left she was having some problems.  I remember looking into her eyes and seeing the my soul reflected back at me.  I recall thinking "I will never see my mother alive again."  And I was right.  I talked to her every Sunday at noon.  I always called her at that time so she would not be confused about whether I had called or not.  We would talk for about an hour about everything under the sun.  I rarely told her my problems, and she was always fine. 
As I begin to face my mortality it is the memory of those blue/grey eyes that makes death almost a welcome relief.  It is her down to earth common sense that has helped me over the hills and through the valleys of life.  I could fill a book with things my mother taught me, and never cover all the lessons.  So, I say this to you....If you have a mother cherish her.  If you don't then learn to cherish life, because some where some one gave life to you.  God did not put us on this earth to just take what it gives, he put us here to prepare it for those who follow behind us.  I hope I am doing that in some small way.  As I transition from Louella Bartholomew to Lou Mercer and back to Louella Bartholomew, I have remembered all you taught me.
And so,  Good night, dear Momma, you did a wonderful job and I will be there one of these days, so watch for me!

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

My world is slowly tilting back to the level mark, but not 100%.

Before I can continue with my mother and father, I have to wait for a part to arrive from the Philippine's for my new printer/copier/scanner.  In the mean time life rather goes on here on South Road and on the Internet.  Kids are settling into their house and getting ready for an open house on the day I have to work at the weavers sale all day, but that is par for the course.
Today it is snowing but not sticking.  I went out and planted Rye for the geese and they should be very happy in a few weeks.  See the rain will fatten the seeds and the sun will warm them and they will sprout. Hooray!  I can see better days ahead.  I have been in a terrible funk, mostly of my own doing, but you know me, I never accept all the responsibility for anything.  Wiggle room abounds in my world.
My eBay is chirping right along and I hope you read about my string of plastic pearls getting 16,000+ hits.  My products are all ready for the November sales here in the real world except  for putting the bottoms in some purses and finishing weaving the big bath towel.  Patty came and helped (did) with the packaging of the lotion and body butter. 
I am currently alone and think I shall remain that way.  I had a fellow on the East Coast that I had met in the chat room over a year ago and that was perfect, but alas, all perfection is in the eye of the beholder and apparently I had a rather cock eyed view which was way different than his.  I figured he and I and Amy would continue our friendships until we grew old or the hard drive got a virus.  Well that was kinda what happened.  Amy and I are still tight and she and her husband are coming out to Colorado next month.  Course I have to lure her with cookies, but it will be a very fun time and I am looking forward to the visit.
But see the online romance was perfect.  We talked and laughed and everything was hunky dory as long as that was all there was to that.  I made the mistake of thinking that mayhap the guy ought to acknowledge my birthday or the fact that I was going on a long trip alone and he actually chastised me for feeling that way as he was very busy.  OK, now you people who deal with me in the twilight world of reality know how well I took that little rebuke.  You know like when I thought the Fourth Street Bridge should be straight and not curved in the middle.  I was right and you all know I was right, but the engineers just would not see it my way.  I am still pouting over that one and the bridge has been open for over a year.  Or when the AIDS walk did not go my way.  Well, you see what happened there don't you?  I pulled out and then Karma sent all that snow and they had to close the Garden of the Gods.  I am not saying I was right or wrong on this one either.  But you all understand Karma, don't you?
But this is how it goes in my world.  I always get what I want.  If I don't I don't play.  So I have had to kill him.  I hated to do that, but I just can see no other solution.  If two people disagree the game is over. Should I apologize for being a needy neurotic woman?  No.  that is what I am.  Should he apologize for not wanting to be bothered in his busy little life?  No.  He has his life  and I have mine, but in order for everyone to win, he has to die.  Course he has the option of killing me also.  And the joy of it is no one ever knows.  He does not know he is dead and if I am I do not know that either.
But then the Internet is a big place and I know there are a couple little fellows out there who are waiting in line.  Just a word to the wise, be very careful what you wish for cause you just might get it. 
For now I am content to set here in my little world and dream up things to do.  I want to write a book and have the blog set up for that.  It is called  Chapter One and as soon as the Weaver's Sale is over I am going to jump into that.  It is going to be about an online stalker and I am making notes!  I have the notes made on the stalker and he is a hunk and a half,  just a little off in the head.  And Meg is a very sweet woman.  I hate to see her have to go through this, but hey!  She should not have gotten in my head!!  LOL

Monday, October 24, 2011

Well, that printer did not last long, did it?

I went off to Staples about a month ago and bought a new printer.  The last one is now setting over there with the last three that I am sure would work if they just had a little tweak here or there.  So this time I got one of the little higher priced ones.  This one has the individual colors which the man assured me was the wave of the future.  Big mistake.
Did I want the extended warranty?  Nope.  I figure it has a one year warranty and that ought to be good.  So I bring my little printer home and man am I proud.  Got me a new printer and I am stylin'.  Well, about the first thing that happened was I ran out of black ink.  So off to buy that.  Few days later I am out of blue ink.  Actually it is called Cyan.  By now I am wising up.  I buy all three cause I know what is going to happen next.  By this time about 10 days have passed and I am off to buy black ink again.  This time I splurged and got the one that has lots of ink.  Another week three colors later I go to print a mailing label.  Well all went well until about half through the printing it decides to print in pink.  Post office ain't buying that I am here to tell you.  So I go into the maintenance program and find I need to clean my print head.  Two labels and it is now printing orange.  By now I am wiser.  I put the label which is half black and half orange in the copy place and make a black copy.  Day 15 and I am now off to buy more ink.
Now I am spending more money on gas and ink then I am paying for rent.  Now the maintenance program recommends I do a deep cleaning for the print head.  More ink.  But we are making progress, we are now printing in blue.  I have now had it with this thing so I call Staples.  "Did you buy the extended warranty?"  "No".  "Too bad because you have to deal with Hewlett Packard now.  If you had bought the extended warranty we could have handled it, but you didn't so now all you have is the HP parts and labor warranty and we don't do that."  OK, well thanks Mr. Staples guy.  Gonna buy my next one from China.
So I made myself be calm and dialed the HP friendly help center.  I got a wonderful guy named Michael who lives in the Phillipines and actually spoke pretty good English. I explained my tale of woe and guess what he had me do.  Clean the print head.  More ink.  Unplug it.  Plug it in.  Clean the print head.  While it was cleaning for the upteenth time he offered to sell me an extended warranty.  I asked him just why in hell would I want to buy an extended warranty on a printer that does not work?  Michael got the idea that I might be getting testy so after 1 hour and 6 minutes he sent me to his supervisor.  He had me take all the ink out and remove the print head.  He then had me clean it with a lint free paper towel and replace it.  Put the ink in and prepare to print.  Nope.  The printer now knew I had put in a used cartridge and was having none of that.  So I poked the ok button a couple times and must have pissed somebody off inside that printer, because now it rejected the ink as counterfeit.  But the supervisor knew how to outsmart it so I printed out an email. Beautiful black email.  But now I could get no color.
To make a long story short, Farouk is going to send me a kit with a new print head and all four inks!  I can hardly wait until it gets here.  Total time on the phone was 1 hour and 58 minutes.  But I made 2 new friends today; Michael who I shall never speak with again and Farouk who has promised to call and check how the printer is working when the kit with the new stuff arrives.  That was my day.  And how was yours?

Friday, October 21, 2011

Nostalgia at this time of the morning? Sure, why not?

For some reason I decided to go back and read some old blogs.  I know what it was!  I wanted to download the pdf. of all of them as I want to have a record when I turn toes up and the kids are remembering me fondly.  I started out just pretty boring and mundane, but as time went on I managed to actually hit my stride there for a while.  So rather than tax my tiny brain this morning, I give you one of my first that I wrote about my mother. 

 

Friday, September 25, 2009

My Mother

My mother shaped my life by example and a lot of her down home wisdom. I am going to tell you some of these at this point and what my thoughts at the time were.

1. "Get that pencil out of your mouth. You don't know where it has been." (Where did that thing go when I wasn't looking?")

2. " Do you want a lickin'?" (Oh, yeah! That is exactly what I want, a lickin'!)

3. " If Beth stuck her head in the fire, I suppose you would too!" (How is wearing my socks rolled down comparable to sticking my head in a fire?)

4. "Eat that mush! There are people starving to death in China." (Well, I sure wish they had this mush!"

5. "Get that coat on before you go outside and freeze to death!" (Wonder how long it takes to flash freeze.)

6. " Do not stick your tongue on that metal pole, cause it will freeze there." (Of course I am going to do that if I can just make it to the pole before I freeze to death.)

7. "Break this candy bar in half and give your sister the biggest half so you do not appear greedy." (Yeah, give the big half to her because she is greedy.)

8. "The early bird gets the worm." (And why do I want a worm?)

9. " Stop running around like a chicken with its head cut off!" (There is a visual I do not need.)

10. "Keep your legs crossed or some little boy will look up your dress." (And what will he see?)

11. "I am going to knock your block off!" (What is a block? Is that possible? Where will my block land and can I put it back on?)

12. "Keep eating and you are going to pop open!" (So that is what that belly button is for! To hold me shut.)



And there is not a day that goes by that one of her idioms doesn't pop into my mind and jerk me back to the straight and narrow. Today this would be called child abuse, but back in those days it was just called "doing the best we can."

I would not trade my roots for any other roots in the world. I came from good, hardworking, honest German and I am sure this has helped shape me into the person I am today.



Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Correct the dates on Reuben Bartholomew

There, Debbie, thanks for calling and drawing my attention to the mistakes on the dates. I do not know where I got those, but these seem to be correct now.  You were indeed the apple of your grandfathers eye in your little easter out fit that he had aunt Joanne make for you  and little red shoes that he bought.  I must have a picture of that for this blog.
And I know how to do it.  I have a thing that you feed the picture in and it puts it on a digital form on a flash drive.  I will get that to you soonly. 
For now, I am off to the city.  Enjoy your sharp mind while you still have it!  ;)

Monday, October 17, 2011

Rueben Floyd Bartholomew



This is my father. Well it is actually a picture of my father. It hangs on my sister Mary's wall and I just happened to see it when I last visited there. The last time I seen my father was in 1964. He was born February 3, 1893. He passed to another level on February 17, 1965. He married my mother, Christine Josephine Haas on January 19, 1935.  It was a second marriage for both. 

Mother had a daughter from her previous marriage who was barely a year old. My brother Jake was born on October 5, 1937.  He was killed in a car crash on October 31, 1965.  I was born on October 1, 1941  and I am not allowed to say when the other three sisters were born.  They are vain little things.  However, as matriarch of the family I am proud to be my age.  (Oh, do the math for crying out loud!  I am 70 this year.)  I never knew my dad as a young man since he was 23 years older then my mother.  I do know that when we lived in Nickerson, Kansas he farmed.  He always had horses and always a matched team. 
He share cropped with a man named John Britain.  His wifes name was Salina and they had a daughter and as I recall her name was Mary Ella.  I thought that was nice as it kind of matched with sister Mary and my Louella.  John Britain had been a carpenter and back in those days he held his nails in his mouth as opposed to an apron.  As  a result he had cancer of the jaw and had part of his face removed.  Guess it is kind of funny what sticks in a young kids mind, huh?
I also remember that John Britain would pick dad up and sometimes I could go.  John had a shack on his land which was located South(?) of the Arkansas River in Nickerson, Kansas.  I also remember he had a stove to heat water and he would put cocoa and sugar in a cup and then fill it about half with boiling water.  The rest he filled with canned milk.  That was hot cocoa.  The elixir of the Gods!!  Best stuff in the whole world to this barefooted ragamuffin.  Now I must tell you that since those days I have tried many times to make the same hot cocoa and failed miserably!  Why that stuff would "gag a maggot off a gut wagon!"  (Kenny used to say that, so blame him for that.)
I have since decided that I grew up in the post depression and World War II years and things were sure different then.  When I talk about the "good old days"  I am talking about abject poverty and a time when the wolf at the door was a very real thing.  When meat on the table was the exception rather than the rule.  When Carp and fried apples was standard fare and an egg was best saved for the hen to set on and hatch.  When a wonderful, beautiful Christmas was finding a coloring book and a red ball and an orange all for me under the tree my big brother had drug home from the school room the day before.  Back when a feast was prepared because many people brought a dish and we all shared.  Or Momma got tired of that old Rooster being mean and lopped off his head and he was soup de jour!
After the busy season is over here in my little corner of the world, I am going to drag out the pictures of days gone by and scan them and let you meet my brother, sisters and the old cemetary where most of them are.  Until then, I have my memories and a driving need to make Lotion, Body Butter and print out the Inventory List for the Weaving Sale.  But at night I can walk the furrowed fields of my mind and make notes on how to best present the days gone by.
Today is the first day of the rest of your life!  Better days ahead.

Friday, October 14, 2011

You can easily judge the character of a man....

I
 I found this on face book and it struck me as one of the truest things I have ever read.  To often in this dog eat dog I find even myself cow towing to the one who can give me the favors that I want.  But always it seems when I get caught up in the day to day existence and become embroiled in the fight for the almighty dollar, something will jar me back to reality.  Like this little rabbit!  Have you ever seen anything more helpless in your life?
 Having grown up in the country, not on a farm actually, but kind of was, we raised rabbits.  Or I should say Mother raised rabbits. That was back in the good old days when there were not all the nitrates and nitrites in the grain supply and it was a simple matter of letting the rabbits breed and then the doe would give birth and raise the babies.  Course we would eat them, but that is what you do on a farm.  But the period between when the babies were born and the landed on the dinner plate, we could play with them.  At first they did not have their eyes open and were completely helpless.
 Now, I must interject a little story here and this will no doubt make my sister Donna mad, but facts are facts.  We knew we were not supposed to  hold the little bunnies until their eyes were open and then we must be very gentle with them.  Well, Sister Donna really loved those bunnies and she held one a little tighter than she should have.  When she saw it was not moving she thought it might be sick so she took it and put it in a dresser drawer and covered it up with a handkerchief to keep it warm.  And of course when Momma came home, she knew one was missing and me being the good daughter showed her where it was.  I thought Donna should have been beat unmercifully, but mother used it as a learning experience.  Good mother's do that, you know.
 Oh, the little rabbit brings back so many memories.  We had chickens and they lived in a coop out back, but they were allowed to run loose.  One day there was a button with a string and the chicken pecked the button and the string stayed outside.  Course I was inconsolable.  Little note here; we were little ragamuffin kids running around with no shoes on and we tended to worry about some of the damnedest  things.  Much of my life was spent worrying about one thing or another, and I was the biggest tattletale you ever saw.  I used to get up on the chicken coop and jump off and try to fly.  I never could figure out why that did not work.  I had a dish towel tied around my neck and everything!  We ran up the road to Vincent's sand pit.  Since none of us could swim, we got in trouble over that one. 
 It was always great when school started cause the ladies at the church would make sure we all had dresses to wear.  And we all got a new pair of shoes.  That was rather a mixed blessing cause I did not like shoes.  Still don't.  But it was one of those necessary evils.  And we had to wear them until the weather got nice in the spring.  By that time we had usually grown out of them, but everyone passed theirs down to a younger kid.  Rather sucked that my older sibling was my brother.  So I did not wear shoes for the last couple months of school.  My God!  If we tried that now the teachers would be aghast.
 There were 6 of us little urchins and we all left our childhood behind with a different perception of the reality of the experience.  I never tire of revisiting my childhood.  As I recall, we lived in pretty much abject poverty.  We did not have indoor plumbing until we moved to Hutchinson when I was 16.  We heated with wood and pumped water in the kitchen.  We took a bath in a galvanized tub on Saturday night.  Seems like we had kerosene lanterns, but I recall electric also.  That confuses me.  We usually had meat on Sunday and Carp and fried apples was regular fare.  Oh, dear, let's don't go there!
 I have this little rabbit as my background on my computer so I can remember that I am not king of the hill and that there are people out there who really need me to be strong for them.  But you know, sometimes I just wish I were one who could let some one else fight the battle, sometimes.  I am getting better at it.

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Well, of course this was a mistake on my part, but I think I will just leave it as it is.!

Yesterday was one cent auction listings on eBay.  So like the good little shop keeper I profess to be, I got busy listing.  Listed 17 items.  Strangely enough most of them were not even looked at, but two of them began pulling in the lookers right away.  I was kind of surprised to see that I had 78 views by the time I went to bed.  I was amazed when I got up this morning and the new totals were 358 on one and 347 on the other.  I just peeked and one is setting at 948 and the other at 957.  Less than 24 hours.  Since I am a fairly intelligent woman I immediately thought the counter was screwed up.  That is until I took a closer look at the titles.
  See when you list you are supposed to be very descriptive so people can readily type in a few words and find your item, or one like it.  My items are both completely worthless plastic bead necklaces, so I  wrote "3 strings of plastic beads worthless to the naked eye as well as to the experienced."  Sounds very descriptive and honest to me.  But what if I were looking for something else and typed in "worthless, naked, experienced".  I would no doubt come up with something else and would be very surprised to find myself looking at plastic beads.
  So there you have my lesson for the day in how to attract lookers to your listings on eBay.  Now I have had no bids so I am pretty sure that the people purusing my site are not looking for a necklace!  Funny the things that come out of our mouths without a thought until some one calls our attention to it.
  Just wanted to share that with you.

So this is a Pheasant Farm!



I think if you click on that you will see the captions and it will get big.  Course I have been wrong before and Google does have a mind of it's own.  That being said, this is a Pheasant Farm along Highway 50 in Western Kansas.  And I want you to know that I took these pictures while driving with the passenger window down.  Course there was no traffic and I had slowed to a crawl.
  Now I am no stranger to things like this, but I thought you might find it interesting.  See way back  before I moved to Colorado the kid's dad bought 10 acres in Deerfield, Kansas.  Now I moved to Colorado in 1977 so we are talking 35 years ago.  He had a vision at that time of becoming a host on a game farm.  I must say he did pretty good at it.  He moved onto the 10 acres and built a "Club House" along with Pheasant Pens.  I do not kow how many birds he had, but I do know how this worked.
  When Pheasant season was upon him, the "hunters"  would come up from Texas and stay in the Club House.  I think he did most of the cooking.  A real "Man Retreat" there!  When it came time for the hunt the allotted number of birds were released and the hunters shot them!  As the birds were cleaned, they began their "celebration".   The Texan's got their game and a great vacation and he made money.  It was a match made in heaven.
  I must interject here. How many of you have ever eaten wild game that was hunted and shot?  We are talking about a bird that while beautiful is about the size of a chicken.  They live in the wild and fly and run so they are very tough.  Might as well throw the wings and legs away.  They are shot with a shotgun.  Now those "BB's" travel into the bird carrying feathers.  So think about that a minute.  I do not know how much time I spent as a young wife spitting feathers at the supper table. But such was the lot of a frontiersman's wife and children.
  After Earl D. passed the kids remained on the land.  Or at least some of them.  The daughters.  They did try to keep the Pheasant business alive but only for a brief time.  The Club House was used for family dinners, but that got to be more work than fun so now it sets idle.  Kind of sad the way time marches on, isn't it?

Monday, October 10, 2011

Cesar Chavez as seen by Octavia Ocampo.

As you know, Cesar Chavez is the American Farm Worker who was a Labor Leader and Civil Rights Worker for the American Farm Worker.  Along with Delores Huerta he founded the United Farm Workers Union which gave collective bargaining rights to the men and women who work in the fields to harvest your food.
He was born on March 31, 1927 and passed on April 23, 1993.

Portrait of LaCausa

Please click on an image to enlarge the area so you can clearly see what I am talking about.

I want to give you a close look at this print which hangs in Sister Nancy's office.  It is by Octavia Ocampo.  It shows what at first appear to be human skulls, but upon closer examination you see the are human beings placed to look like skulls. The farm workers have long been the neglected in our country.  Would you work in a field in the blazing sun all day?  What if you had absolutely no choice?  Farm workers are some of the poorest of the poor and a hand up is not the same as a hand out.
  

The farm workers cause was a very long and while Chavez tried to keep it peaceful with his Ghandi philosophy, it did not always turn out that way.

I now leave you to study this print and see if you are as moved by this work as I was.  When you eat your salad tonight or your veggies tomorrow, think of Cesar and the millions of farm workers who are responsible for getting it to your table.

Posted by Picasa

Sunday, October 9, 2011

El Centro de Los Pobres and the Preacher came through!

So you are not going to get the slide show, but you can click here to see the album




I do hope there is a slide show up there.  If not it might turn up later.  Google; gotta love them.  Last Thursday Pastor Faye Gallegos, Pastor Max and his wife Pastor Maurine Hale, and Pastor Frank  Jopp and his wife, Elfreida came to Pueblo to the El Centro de Los Pobres. That translates to The Center for the Poor.  It is located in Avondale and is a wonderful haven ran by a child of God named Sister Nancy.  It is for the migrant workers and their families.  The center is manned by only volunteers.  No paid staff at all.  Volunteers include Doctors, nurses, dentist, and people who donate what ever service is needed.  Donated clothing is separated and given to who ever needs it.  Food is portioned out equally to the families.  If you want to learn more you can call or visit the place.  719-947-3109.  Los Pobres Center, 212 East Hwy 50, Avondale, Colorado  81022.
  I am here to tell you two things.  The playground and the only place the kids had to play was destroyed by a storm.  Pastor Faye Gallegos, whom many of you know as my "preacher friend in the Springs" was touched to build a new playground and that is what she set out to do.  She sent letters to her friends.  She did not want to infringe on any entity except her circle of friends.  I am proud to be called a friend by this woman of God.  And, like everything she sets out to do, she accomplished this task.  Last Thursday, October 6, 2011, she arrived at The Center for the Poor and presented Sister Nancy with the monies collected for the playground.  Mission accomplished once more!

Sister Nancy then gave us the grand tour since the other Pastors had not had it yet.  And that is when the full realization of what this place is about hit me.  See this computer?  It is hooked directly to the prison.  Sounds simple enough, doesn't it?  What is it's purpose?  Women come in at a prearranged time and can visit face to face via the web cam with their husbands.  Kids can talk to daddy.  This is the only contact they have with their loved ones and is the last contact before the men are deported.      Why were these men stopped by the police?  Maybe a broken tail light, or jay walking or just about anything.  The important part is they have no papers and are in this country illegally.  Pastor Maureen had an especially hard time grasping the idea that a simple thing like this could be pretty much a death sentence to the family.  The men are deported back to Mexico.  The women and children are here illegally and so have no rights at all.  They can go home.  How?  They can not move freely as they are illegal, and probably have no money.  Many of the children have never known a home outside of this county.  Mexico? Some of them have never even heard of Mexico.  Kids are given schooling and such until they reach the age of  16(?) and then they are granted status of "Illegal Immigrant" and then they are subject to deportation.
   Seems like a few years back Pueblo County cracked down on the illegals that worked the fields.  Big roundups and back to Mexico with you, buddy.  Know what happened?  Crops rotted in the fields.  City people are not going to work in the blazing sun all day for the pittance the farmers pay.  They want a job with benefits.  And air conditioning.  Lunch breaks. Oh,yeah and insurance, paid vacation, sick days, etc, etc.  I know it is a dark, shadowy world and I know that emotions run high when we talk of closing the borders.  Hey!  I was right there with you on that, but I have had to rethink the whole thing.  I finally realized that what ever the pros and cons to the subject are, we are still dealing with human beings.  Flesh and blood men, women and innocent children who had no choice in anything that has befallen them.  Men and women come to this country seeking the illusive golden ring; children are by products of the system.
  But at least out in Avondale at the El Centro de Los Pobres (The Center for the Poor) there are children who for a few hours will have a place to play and a field to dream dreams, thank to people like Pastor Faye and Sister Nancy. 

As you have done this to the least of these my brethern, you have done it unto me.

Thursday, October 6, 2011

Just a note to let you know.

Just want to let my friends know that I will not be participating in the SCAP Walk in the Garden which is this Saturday.  I raised my money, but in the process became disenchanted with the process.  After much deliberation I want to say that the Southern Colorado AIDS Project, while a worthy endeavor, is no longer a fit for me.  I will continue to do the Social Luncheons once a month, but there is where my allegiance will end.
I wish them well and my best to all the clients.  Better days ahead I am sure.
There is an old saying I learned at my mother's knee..."It isn't whether you win or lose, but how you play the game."  I choose to take the high road.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Why is a cross "CROSS WALK YIELD TO PEDESTRIANS"?

 Yesterday I had the scare of my young life.  I was driving across town to meet a friend for coffee and a planning session and came upon a cross walk in front of the Library.  You know, the one on Abriendo where there are two lanes of traffic going each way.  I was in the right hand lane and I noticed a pedestrian waiting to cross so out of habit, if no other reason, I stopped.  The car behind me stopped.  The man crossed in front of my car and just as he crossed my line of sight my peripheral vision caught a speeding car on my left.  I sat frozen in horror as the SUV sped past me and the man in the crosswalk froze in mid step and jumped backwards.  Had he finished that step he would have been slaughtered. The tan SUV continued on down the street oblivious to the catastrophe she had nearly created.  But who was really to blame here? 
 First on the scene was the pedestrian.  Had he not wanted to cross the street there never would have been a series of events to lead to tragedy.  Had he just stayed in the Library all would have been well.  And when I stopped he should never have trusted me.  He has no idea who I am.
 Second on the scene was me.  I stopped because it says "CROSS WALK YIELD TO PEDESTRIANS."  I thought that was a law and was to be obeyed.  Silly me!
 Third was the lady in the SUV.  In my humble opinion both lanes of traffic should stop for the cross walk.  If you are going to propel a ton of steel down the street where people are walking you ought to at very least pay attention to your surroundings.  If you are driving down the street and see two cars stopped in your lane, the answer is not to change lanes and speed up  and pass.  The answer is to check your surroundings and proceed with caution.  I am sure when you took your drivers test there was a question on there about pedestrians and the right of way.
 Now let's just put the blame where it really goes, the street department.  They put those signs up.  Why?  Oh they thought someone might look at them and obey what they said. What has happened is that they are giving a false sense of security to a vulnerable human body.  Everyone knows that the pedestrian has the right of way.  Sure they do.  Every where except in Pueblo, Colorado, that is.  Here they are just targets and cross walks are the field of play.  Fortunately they know this.   If they did not know it, they would just walk across the street and feel safe, but they know in this part of the world that they are the target.
 True, ever so often the police put up a reminder that the pedestrian has the right of way in the cross walk, but they do nothing about failure to yield.  They just move the sign some where else.  I was going to the Pantry one day and using that same cross walk.  I had parked by the Library and was trying to get across the street using the cross walk.  I stood there with a policeman and watched the cars zip by without even slowing.  I turned to him and said "Aren't we supposed to have the right of way?"  His reply was a simple, "Yep".  So if our men in blue do not care, why should I?  Why should I stop and let some guy think he can actually cross the street safely?  Seems I was just setting him up on that one.
 I must admit that I slept very little last night and when I did I woke up in a cold sweat seeing that man's face.  So now the question is what do I do about this?  I feel I must do something.  So here is this blog.  Now I will write a letter to the editor that I know no one will read.  Maybe I will go pay a visit to the local gestapo and ask them how we can make our city a safer place to walk.
 There you have it, my thoughts for today.

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Happy Birthday to you, sonny!

Well, today is my son's Happy Birthday.  He lives in Dallas, Texas so I will not be running by with a cake.  And I am not going to tell you how many candles is on the cake he will have, assuming some one will come up with one.  But I can tell you this, when he was born he was very small and very bald,  but he was also very pretty.  That is assuming a man can be pretty and in my world they can and often are.  He was always a studious little fellow.  He used to grab up the cat and walk around explaining to said cat how the universe came into being.  Maybe you find that behaviour a bit strange?  That was back in Hutchinson, Kansas.
He went off to Garden City to live with his father early on, which was fine.  He excelled in school and drama.  He did move to Colorado to be with me most of his high school years and continued in the drama club until his Junior year, but that is another story.
So I just want to tell the little fellow who is no longer little Happy Birthday and wish him all the best.  I wish I were there!

Monday, October 3, 2011

Well, the day has finally come that marks the end of the trail here on South Road.

Last night the son and his chosen one started hauling their possessions up the stairs, out of the trailer, and the storage shed and packing it into Jerry's van.  And then the trip to Florence and the new house began.  You know, it is kind of sad to see this happen.  Not because I will be alone, because I am a rather solitary person anyway, but rather because it marks the end of my child rearing days.  Started that little chapter in 1962 and now in 20ll I watch the last little fledgling spread his wings and try it solo.  The only difference here is if  the baby bird does not make it successfully, it will plop to the ground and either die from the fall or a cat will come along and eat it.  Not so with the human race.
I have friends that say, "Oh, he will be back."  I do not think they understand.  I do not want them back.  Not because I do not like them.  Nor because I want to live alone.  Or because I finally have a complete room for my eBay stuff.  I want them to succeed.
I want them to know the thrill of coming home at night after a hard day's work and turning their very own key in their very own door.  I want them to know who mows the grass, who washes the dishes, who pays the electric bill, who buys the dog food.  I want them to know the thrill of something called Independence.  While I did not give birth to this little bird, I taught him to walk, I potty trained him, sent him to school, and tried to instill in him a sense of right and wrong, justice and equality, and all the things he needs to know about being kind to the lesser on the planet whether man or beast.  I have tried to lead by example.  They never did catch on to the Recycle thing or the healthy diet, but I can't win them all.  Now we will see how that works out for me!
They did spend last night here, and that is what it was; the last night under Momma's roof.  When they were getting ready to take the load to Florence, Amanda asked me, "Well, how do you feel?  We are leaving.  You will be alone.  Are you going to miss us?"  And I answered as best I could to this girl who has become like a daughter to me.
"As for being alone, we are all alone.  I have been alone all my life.  Sure I will miss you, but this is life and it is time.  You kids need to build your own life.  You can never be on your own here in my house.  You need your own little corner." 
She did assure me that they will come and visit every day.  Well, every day that they work in the shop in Pueblo.  Maybe not every single day, but most of them. Ah, the exhuberance of youth!  Makes me remember back to the day when I was 19 years old and I looked up into a pair of the bluest eyes and knew I would never be alone again.  I was wrong on that day and have been wrong many times since.
And when it gets right down to it, we are alone and we will always be alone.  And such is life!

Sunday, October 2, 2011

I am about to go to 10,000 readers.

I just checked to see how many readers I have on this blog and I see 9,999.  That does not mean there are that many people out there who are seperately signed up to read it.  That means my blog has been visited that many times since the inception.  I have about 30 people who read it on a regular basis though not every day, according to my stats.  Then there are those who pop in on occasion.  This is the first month I have had 1000 hits.
So this makes me happy. And happy at my house is good.  The kids are back from Grand Junction and today is moving day.  Hope this works out the way I have it planned.

Saturday, October 1, 2011

Ghost Walk on Union Avenue wore my little legs out quickly!

Oh, yes, I love to walk. Last night I got a good one. I went with a friend to the Ghost Walk on Union Avenue. Well, it was really not Union Avenue as we started at the Museum and proceeded to the River Walk and then crossed Union to Victoria and down Victoria to the train station and the Heritage Center. Made 10 stops for reenactments. That is the part that got me. See, I can walk for miles at a brisk pace, but when I do the meandering thing and the stopping and standing, I am shot. Not good.
The Ghost Walk is put on every year at this time and is sponsored by the Domestic Violence Community Task Force which is compromised of Community Representatives and headed up by the YWCA Family Crisis Shelter.
For more info go visit the link I made for you.  Hope it works and it usually does. Google is so good!   click here to visit thier web site.
This was my first time going on this walk, because I am normally not a person who does anything after dark.  See I knew this started at 5:30 and I was sure I would be home before dark, but alas, such was not to be.  So I called the current SWM and told him I would pick him up.  Course he was all eager and what man in his right mind would not be?  So, we embarked on our journey and it got dark and then darker and I began to get antsy.  Finally it was over and all I wanted to do was go home.  Now he wanted to go get a root beer float. I told him I had to get home and shut up the geese so the fox would not eat them.  Know what he said?  "I have seen them geese and a fox would have to be friggin' nuts to go in that pen!  I would not go in that pen!  God himself would not go in that pen!"  But I left him standing on the curb shaking his head and I rushed home to my babies.  Poor guy.  LOL
I have decided that if my current volunteer work comes to an end, which I strongly suspect it will, that I will go work with the YWCA and the Family Crisis Center.  Maybe ACOVA as well.  Guess I could stay home and clean house........or not.  That is women's work.
Ok, got a ton of stuff to do today.  Have to go pack up and pick up a load of stuff for the scholarship fund and bring it home.  And since the kids are moving on Monday I need to fill some boxes with stuff they will need, like silverware, blankets, towels, toilet paper, paper towels, dishes, and cooking oil.  They love grease.
So I am whoooooshing on out of here!  Have a good one.

Another year down the tubes!

Counting today, there are only 5 days left in this year.    Momma nailed it when she said "When you are over the hill you pick up speed...