The hidden lessons from Momma

 I was just watching something on the early morning show about sharing.  Sharing is good and makes you feel good, but I already knew that.  I remember when I was but a wee tot and momma would occasionally bring home something she received from one of the ladies at the end of her day.  Maybe a few cookies, or a small amount of candy.  It was meant for momma as a little treat, but she always brought it home to share with her kids.  Usually it was a few store bought cookies, but it was always a treat for us!  Momma would hand me a cookie and say "Share this with Mary or Dorothy, or Donna.  And she always stood there as the cookie was broken in half.  I measured carefully and then handed the chosen sister the biggest half.  

It was an engraved in stone rule that the one breaking the cookie took the smallest half.  This taught us many things.  
#1  Always try to break it carefully.

#2  By giving the biggest half to the sister we were showing generosity.

 #3 We were not greedy. 

#4  We learned sharing and humility.

One day I had to go to cousin Paralee's house after school.  Momma was cleaning Paralee's house that day.  Paralee knew it was my birthday so she had planned a small party for me.  Suffice it to say that in my younger years it was the only time my birthday was observed.  I received only one gift, but I treasured it for years.  It was a red cookie cutter in the form of Cinderella.  Needless to say I never used it, but treasured it nonetheless.

Momma has been gone for many years, but she is always right there on my shoulder.  I hear her many times a day and try as I might, I can never forget the lessons I learned at her knee.  If I taught my kids anything, I would hope it is this:  "That small voice in your head that is telling you to share, to be kind,  to be helpful and understanding to others, to respect your elders, never lie and always talk to God, is probably my mother talking to you!"

Maybe someday one of my kids will be writing this blog and remembering me as a wise, caring, honest person.  I can only hope!

Peace!

I am the old generation.

 Today I awoke with a cat on my bed and a dog beside the bed.  The dog is not mine, but the cat is.  As I lay there thinking what the day held in store, and it suddenly dawned on me, that I had no reason whatsoever to leave my little bed.  Oh, sure the dog and cat need fed and let out for a bathroom break, but other than that I could just lay there all day and no one would know, or care.

Once upon a time I had a mother, father, 4 brothers, 4 sisters, aunts, uncles and lots of cousins.  I had friends galore.  I had places to go and people to see, but sadly that has all changed.  My family is all gone except for one sister that I never talk to or see.  The one friend that I had for many years moved down south some where.  She had a daughter who was very disrespectful to me and my "brood", so we stopped communication.  The friends that I made here in Colorado have mostly died , or pissed me off for one reason or another.  I have no room in my life for deceit, disrespect, and judgementalists.  So I guess, as Mother would say, "I have made my own bed and now I can just sleep in it".  We all know how wise my Mother was!

I live in a 2400 square foot house, all by myself.  I have a cat.  The cat loves me.  I have 7 geese who do not!  They depend on me for food, water and a shed to keep them safe from the foxes and such.  Bret was 8 when I got the geese as babies.  He is 32 now.  Geese, under ideal conditions will live about 16 years.  This makes mine 24 years old.  Every morning when I go to let them out, I expect to find one with his feet in the air, but it has not happened yet.  Someone suggested that I give them to the zoo so they could use them as food for the lions.  That is not happening.

I have always said that when the geese die off, of natural causes, I will sell this place and move somewhere else.  My destination is not set in stone, just so it is some where else.  I entertained the idea of buying a small van and just going from place to place, but even that seems like a lot of work.  I could just call someone to handle an estate sale for me and walk out the door with one suitcase.  That actually is the most appealing scenario at this point.  I could visit each of my kids for a month at a time.  They would be glad to see me twice that way (once when I came and once when I left!)

But for today, I will let the geese out of their pen so they can play in the pond I built for them in the garden area.  I am toying with the idea of planting fruit trees in the garden area.  If I cut down the cottonwood tree, I can fit 2 peach , 2 apricot, and 2 cherry trees in that area.  Or I can just drink another cup of coffee and wait for Jeopardy! to come on this afternoon.  I love that show.  I turn it on at 3:00 and then I wake up about 4:00.

Peace!

Sunshine and grasshoppers!

 We are in the middle of a heat wave....again.  This probably does not come as any big surprise to most of you.  While the heat is almost unbearable, I have another problem out here in the country.  That problem is grasshoppers.  They are every where!  Or at least they seem to be everywhere.  I could rephrase that and say, "they are everywhere I try to walk!"

Grasshoppers are fascinating little creatures, to say the very least.  They have barbs or something on there feet or legs that is very disturbing to my skin when they land on me.  Now, granted, they do not make contact with me very often, but once was enough.  The fact that they are ugly as sin does not help at all!  So when one does land on me there is a lot of jumping and screaming going on from my body.  

Now I have a lot of weeds out here on my little acre.  I try to keep them at a manageable height with my mower called a weed whacker.  It has 2 high wheels in the back and a nose out the front with a string trimmer.  This thing is very powerful and can sling a rock the size of a lemon through the garage window in a split second, but it does not harm grasshoppers!  Nothing harms grasshoppers!

Now, I speak as an expert on grasshoppers because I have tried everything!  I even got a bag of something that is supposed to make them sterile.  Now, it will not kill them and it takes a season to get them all sterilized, or so the instructions on the bag said.  So the spray that was supposed to kill them only made them bigger and meaner!  The sterilant appears to be more of an aphrodisiac then any means of birth control!

One would think that with a ratio of 40 grasshoppers per every square foot of weeds I have that at the very least I would get rid of the weeds, but that is not happening either.  I have no idea what these beasts actually eat.  They do not trim the grass.  They do not eat the weeds.  The trees still have their leaves and the geese eat the garbage.  

I have thought about moving in to town, but I can not find an apartment or house that will allow me to have 7 adult geese.  And on that subject, how long does a goose live?  My friend looked it up on google.  Now google knows everything!!  It told us, a goose lives 16-17 years under ideal conditions.  Ok.  I got these geese for Bret when he was 6 or 7 years old and he is 31 now.  You do the math!  Hell, even Google is jerking my chain!

So, as I try to type with the cat laying across the keyboard and the grasshoppers laying in wait right outside the door, I am trying to count my blessings.  Actually, they are many!  I have a computer that works, a refrigerator full of food, and friends who love me!

Peace!  

What the hell?

I had a dream two nights ago that was so horrible I am just now able to write about it and analyze what it means in my simple life;  Here goes;;;;

I dreamed I was setting in a lawn chair beside a green meadow.  Beyond the meadow was a forest.  To my other side was a parking lot with no cars and beyond that a super highway with parked cars.

As I gazed into the clear blue sky, I saw a round object pass from right to left.  It was about 75 feet in the air.  It was silver with blue trim.  It had a door and one window.  A banner over the door read DONALD TRUMP.  It disappeared, but very soon reappeared again on my right and once more slowly passed out of my line of vision on my left.  This happened several times.  I do not know how it managed to disappear and then reappear unless it was orbiting the earth very fast.

After several times of passing from right to left, it stopped and hovered in front of me.  The banner disappeared revealing a door.  The door opened  and what appeared to be Donald Trump stepped out onto  the landing in front of the door.  He was dressed in a peach colored tuxedo made of satin.  His name was on a cream colored banner across his chest.  His shoes were white and he wore white gloves.  He waved at me and asked if I had a ladder.

I woke up.  Now, it is the job of anyone reading this to explain to me what in the hell that dream was all about and where it came from.  In my day to day life, politicians rarely even enter my mind.  I like to bake cookies and watch soap operas.  That is the extent of my existence;

So there you have it. Any thoughts?  

Queen of the Silver Dollar!

Many years ago, when I was 18 years old in Hutchinson, Kansas, there were three taverns, better know as beer joints down on south main street.  They were known as the 3 Queens.  You should know that it was also about the same time the Navy base was being phased out.  Now brother Jake and I liked to drink and I liked to dance.  In Kansas, at that time any bar worth frequenting had a dance floor.  So, let's set the mood here by clicking on the title of the song!  queen of the silver dollar

So, this oasis down on South Main Street in Hutchinson, Kansas housed a plethora of bars.  Brown Derby, Manhattan Club (which was my favorite), Anchor Inn, another one that slips my mind, and the Crystal Ballroom.  The Crystal Ballroom, which had a giant crystal ball mounted high above the dance floor, was only open on Saturday night.  It was mostly for old people.  There actually was a bar called the Silver Dollar, but it was clear across town on Highway 96 on the way to Nickerson.  I was only there once or twice. I did not like the ambiance there.

The Manhattan club was owned by a man known as "Dutch" somebody.  I would sometimes work the bar so he could go do errands in the afternoon.  A few notes here.  At that time it was illegal to sell alcohol to Indians because it "made them crazy".  It was hard for me to differentiate between them and Mexicans, who could drink until they fell over.  Sure different from now when you are required to serve people of every nationality. 

 There were whores who worked the bars.  I knew only one and her name was Seabiscuit.  That was not her name, but it was her "working name." I do recall she drank White Horse Scotch with cream.  Pretty sure those two things together would curdle, but not my circus; not my monkeys!  I came to know her on a different level.  She once had a family and a home like normal people, her husband had left her and taken the kids and South Main Street became her home and prostitution  her means of survival.

There was another one who was a little "pudgy" and giggled a lot.  I am not sure she charged for her wares, but rather did it for the sheer enjoyment of the work.  Her name was Berniece.  

My step brother, Gene had frequented the bars and they both remembered him.  Since my maiden name was Bartholomew it was easy for anyone to link us together.  Gene Bartholomew, Delbert (Jake) Bartholomew, Louella Bartholomew.

Fights broke out fairly regularly at the Manhattan Club, but as soon as the police arrived the fights stopped and they were warned not to do that again.  I still carry a scar right below my ankle from a beer bottle someone threw across the floor that broke and went into my heel.  

The last time I went to Hutch, I was going to go to South Main Street and check out my old stomping grounds, but I didn't.  The next time I am going to make it a point.  I am willing to bet that the bars have turned into antique shops. That time of my life was over 60 years ago, and time marches on!

My kids will no doubt, cringe in horror when the read this post.  But then again, they may actually be relieved to know that momma was young once and wasn't always a prude.  And they may understand how I figured out what they were doing because Momma done been there and done that!!!

His name was Dewite Jackson.

(That was not his real name, but rather a pseudonym that I shall use in case he is still alive and/or has family back in Nickerson, Kansas.)

Times were definitely different back then.  Nickerson Grade School was a 2-story red brick building.  Lunch was served in the downstairs Hall for everyone except the little Bartholomew kids who carried potato sandwichs tied up in a handkerchief.  The kitchen was located at the end of the hall and right between the girls' bathrooms and the boys' bathrooms.   Grades 1-4 were on the first floor and 5-8 were on the second floor. The Principals office was located on the second floor.  The principal at the time was Mr. Somebody who was in charge of running the whole school and making sure there was harmony and a conducive atmosphere for learning.

Now, the first thing you should know is that back in those days, 70 years ago life was different.  There was a thing that existed called "discipline."  It existed in homes and schools across our fair land.  It was usually dispensed at home, so schools ran on an even keel and if an incident happened at school (which was a rarity) it was handled in the principal's office.  

At the time of this particular incident, I must have been in about the fifth grade.  Dewite was probably an eighth grader.  Mr. Somebody stormed onto the playground and grabbed Dewite by the ear and marched him into the school, up the stairs and into the Principals office.  I have no idea what offence he had committed, but we all knew it was bad!  Now we all knew that Dewite was just a little short in the social skills department.  Back in those days it was referred to as "odd", and today it would be recognized as a social problem, but that was before the days of "awareness."  Back to the story.

Mr. Somebody was a skinny fellow who always wore a suit and tie.  Physically he was a skinny man who, in retrospect, would not survive an altercation with anyone else his size.  And Dewite was bigger than him.  We all stood on the playground looking at the office window which was open.  We watched in further amazement as the black rubber hose that was used for disciplining errant students   came sailing out the window and landed on the ground.  It was followed very shortly with Dewite emerging from the back door of the school and walking across the playground to his home right across the street.

We never saw Dewite again.  I think his mother just kept him home because back in those days there were not schools that could handle "special needs".  Soon we forgot about him.  The music teacher married Mr. Somebody's son, although she loved the coach.  I knew many things back then, but few of them have survived the passing of 70 years.  

I am rather glad that schools have changed, and students now have rights, which brings me to another point.  With rights also comes responsibility.  We learned that early in life.  Seventy years ago, was a different world.  We were taught respect for our elders at home about the same time we learned to walk.  We never questioned adult authority and that was not always good.  Some adults were not respectable, but we survived.  We survived to live another day and to raise kids that respected elders but could also question authority if it did not seem right.

Several years ago, Dona Marie and I went back to Nickerson.  They have built a new school and there are homes where the old school stood.  Main Street is mostly deserted.  Engles Candy and Book store is gone.  Warn Appliance.  The drug store.  IGA moved and Flemings is gone.  It is hard for me to realize that all this was seventy years ago!  I can still see it in my mind's eye like it was yesterday.

The one thing I have learned is that no matter how things change, the more they stay the same!  The schools have changed and discipline is no longer handled behind closed doors with a rubber hose.  I think that is good, although I have seen quite a few instances where the old saying "Spare the rod and spoil the child" comes to mind.

Well, for the most part, I think I turned out pretty well, but I do wonder about Dewite and a lot of my classmates.  Reminds me of something my oldest daughter is fond of saying, "What don't kill you will make you strong."

And so it goes!

Peace!

The Ailmore Place in Nickerson

 Until I reached second grade we lived to the best of my knowledge, on the Stroh place.  That is where my memories of life began.  I do not know where Donna and Mary came into being, but I remember momma laying in bed with baby Dorothy beside her.  I hated her!  She made momma stay in bed and I could not be held by momma because of her.  She cried and momma cuddled her.  My cuddling days were over at that point.  When harvest came momma even took her in the truck with her to haul the grain to the elevator.  She left us home with Josephine who must have been about 10 or 11 at the time.  I am sure someone older actually ran herd over all of us, but I do not remember because the seventy some years of life that followed fairly well erased my memories of that time!

I do recall the move to the Ailmore place.  It was on the hayrack, straight down the road, across the highway pulled by the two big horses that were my dad's pride and joy.  " A matched pair, Chris!  Look at that!  Gotta have a matched pair.  Won't work any other way."  Of course, all a matched pair meant to me was that I was going to wear the same coat to school that I wore last year and the first 2 months of school there would be no shoes on my feet, or on Jakes either.  Josephine was big so she had to have shoes.

The house was 2 bedrooms, a front room and dining room combined.  The front bedroom was big enough for all of us.  Josephine, Donna, Mary and myself slept in one bed and Jake made a pallet on the floor.  Dorothy was still nursing so she slept  with mom and dad.  There was a light that hung in the front room and one in the kitchen.  Since electric lights were still a novelty to my dad we used kerosene lamps and did not mess with that new fangled stuff.

I am sure I have writtten about the bullfrog incident somewhere and also about Jake blowing on the gas tank and spraying gas in Donna's eyes.  Across the road lived the Barthold sisters.  They were old maid schoolteachers.  We used to hide in their forest and spy on them drinking tea in the flower garden.  While we were sure that we were well hidden, momma did give us a licking because they told on us.  We swore they were lying, but we got a licking anyway!

It was during this time that Nickerson had a cyclone. Dad had gone to Hutchinson for one of his drinking trips. John Britan knew this and knew we were in for bad weather and came by to check on us. While he was there the storm hit. I remember the lights went out and we only had one lamp burning. I think that a cyclone rotates one direction, and a tornado goes in the other. Not sure what happened, but I do recall it being very scary. Maybe a cyclone is a straight wind.  One thing is for sure, when you are a little kid and the wind is blowing so hard the all the buildings in sight are destroyed and lumber is flying past the window, you get a quick lesson in how to pray and mean it!  In due time the storm "blew itself out" and we went outside.  

The haystack was gone.  The pump house was gone.  The tree that stood in the corner of the yard and served as  cemetary marker for the small animals that passed in our care was still there, standing sentinel over the tiny bodies.  The old milk cow stood beside the water tank and looked very forlorn.  Chickens and ducks wandered around where the chicken house used to be.  About the only thing that survived with little or no damage was the house.

And then dad drove into the yard in his rattle trap old car. Even in his inebreated state he was amazed at the damage.  He thanked Mr. Britan for being there in his absence.  My dad worked as a hired hand for Mr. Britan for many years, so he knew dad pretty well and accepted that dad had a drink occasionally.  Mostly he drank "hot toddies" for his colds.  Not a social drinker, just medicine.  Of course, in hind sight it appears that my dad had a drinking problem.  The upshot was that one day he quit drinking completely and with that he quit having colds necessitating his need for the toddies.  As a little kid we learned to adjust.

We left the Ailmore place a couple years later and moved to 709 Strong Street which would be our home for the rest of my grade school and into high school.  I drove past the Ailmore place several years ago.  It is gone, of course.  Roy Keatings farm is still there and the Rumble house was starting to fall into Bull Creek.  The Barthold house still stands, but the Schultz property is bare.  

Ah, but in my mind I still wade in Bull Creek and seine for crawdads.  I still sing "Buttons and Bows"  for Mr. Rumble.    Mrs. Rumble still gives me a cookie.

Who says you can't go home again?

Peace!

Aunt Beck

 That was her name.  Just Aunt Beck.  If you walked past my house at 709 Strong Street and turned right at the dead end, went across the highway that ran to Sterling and followed the driveway up to a little white house, you would end up at Aunt Beck's house.  I do not remember her at all, other than she was a short woman with her hair in a bun.  Course all women looked alike to me in my memory.  Occasionally momma would make something and dispatch me to "Take this to Aunt Beck and come straight back.  Don't bother her."  

And that was what I would do.  Aunt Beck would open the door, take whatever I had, thank me and close the door.  It was not until many years later that I actually knew who Aunt Beck was and what her function was in the Haas Family migration to Kansas.  I knew I had a cousin named Ronnie Beck who lived in town and was in the same grade I was in while attending Nickerson Grade School.  A side note here is that he had very red cheeks.  Now those of you who know me know that I also have very red cheeks at times.  That makes me think that it is a Haas family trait.

Years later I was to learn that when a member of the Haas Family in Germany migrated to the United States that Aunt Beck was the contact person in Kansas.  The members the the Haas family would get in touch with Aunt Beck and she would put them in touch with whoever they needed to contact here in Kansas.  Mostly my ancestors settled around the Hunstville and Abbyville area.  But back to Aunt Beck.

Sometimes I would walk from my house to the highway to Sterling and go up to Cow Creek and wade around looking for seashells.  Oddly enough I found a lot of them.  Jake and I used to fish Cow Creek and he and his friends would go down a dirt road to a swimming hole.  I never swam and I knew they were down there naked (or so I assumed.) and I wanted no part of that!

Now a note here about the creeks and rivers in Nickerson.  It is bounded on one side by the Arkansas River, another by the Cow Creek and another by the Bull Creek.  Normally, the only one that carries any significant flow of water was the Arkansas River.  But in the Springtime when the snow melted in the mountains of Colorado, the runoff flooded the rivers and Nickerson became isolated.  At least I think it was what happened.  I know when I used to travel to Hutchinson in the Spring, I had to go 50 Highway because all the little creeks long 96 highway would be over the road.  Now what any of this has to do with with Aunt Beck is beyond me!  Back to the subject.

Now, I could bore you with stories of my lineage, but I will not.  The gist of this is mostly to satisfy my own curiosity.  There was a time, I would ask one of the grandma's or mother, but not anymore.  I have lost track of all the cousins and of course, all the aunts and uncles have long since passed to their reward, so I have to rely on genealogy and I am pretty lazy when it comes to looking thing up.

So, having consulted my book that has all the answers, apparently Aunt Beck was my great grandfathers first wife.  Or, she could have been a sister to his first wife.  Sure do not know who to ask at this point!  But anyway that is all water under the bridge and I could say about anything and there is no one around to dispute my memory.  That is the best part of being old!

So anyway, it snowed last night.  According to the old way of thinking, we have 7 more snows until we are done for the year.  Guess we will see.  

You all have a good day today and I wish you Peace and Prosperity for the coming year!

And remember, you cannot sprinkle showers of happiness on someone else without getting a few drops on yourself!

Santa Claus is coming to town!!

 Momma said it so it is true!  It is funny how so many years later the things momma said, come back to haunt me!  Especially things like, "You can't judge a book by its cover."  "You reap what you sow." "Never look a gift horse in the mouth."

I am not sure a lot of them made any sense at all, but nonetheless they seem to pop up fairly regularly in my everyday life and they seem to be most apropos to a situation I find myself in at the moment.  Now do not leap to conclusions that I have gotten myself in a pickle again, because I have not.  My life seems to be spinning along beautifully and I hope that will continue and not go spiraling out of control as life sometimes does!

It is the Christmas season and while the birth of the Christ child never ceases to fill my heart with joy, there is all the fa de la that goes along with bringing out the best or worst in some people.  I do not buy into the trappings of the season.  I do not fight the crowds to buy a gift for friends just for the sake of buying a gift for someone.  I do that all year long and Christmas is reserved for the birth of the Christ child.  I go to church.  I come home.  I do not drive slowly by the houses that are ablaze with lights and the meter on the side of the house is spinning at top speed.  I do not fight the crowds at the parade or at the mall.  Covid is always in my mind.  I do not want that stuff!

I do spend time remembering when the kids were young.  As a single working mother with five kids, Christmas was not always as nice as I would have liked and the table was rarely loaded with the bounty of the harvest!  One Christmas we had corn dogs, because that was what the kids wanted and it was cheap!  Daddy usually took them over Christmas break and Santa was a little more giving at Daddy's house.  That was fine with me and has absolutely nothing to do with my memories at this point.

The saying "It is what it is", comes to mind at this time.  Not sure if it is relevant at all, but there is a lot of truth to that statement and it has helped me over more than one rough patch!  Gibby said that and he was a very wise man and one of my most trusted friends in the days gone by.  He was one of the first to die from AIDS.  His was the first panel I made for my Memorial Quilt which hangs in the Library on Abriendo.  

The saddest part of getting old is the dimming of my memories!  At least I think that is it, but then again I am blessed with selective memory!  I remember things very vividly, and while that may not be exactly how it happened, it is how I remember it.  Momma used to say "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,"  and that is how I remember things.  My journaling may not be exactly how things happened, but they are what I remember.

"Never let your right hand know what your left hand is doing."  "You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink." But, the best of all is "It is what it is."  And there you have it in a nutshell.  

Christmas is coming and this will be 81 of them that I have lived through.  Will this one be different?  Of course!  They all are.  But 6 days after Christmas, I get another shot at doing it right.  New Years with the resolutions to "do better this year."  I used to quit smoking every January 1, but it never worked out because I had no willpower.  I finally quit, but I do not even remember the date, nor the year.  It has been a very long time though!

So, just in case I do not make it back to this site for Christmas, I want to wish you all a very happy Christmas!  Remember the baby Jesus.  I know different religions do things differently, but just know that all roads lead to the manger and then to the cross.

As Tiny Tim would say, "Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!"

Peace!

Getting ready for new beginnings!

 Tomorrow when I wake up November will be behind me.  The bad memories can rest until next year.  It is not like shutting a door and moving on, it is just closing a door and living my life.  It all sounds good, doesn't it?  And I really wish it worked that way, but it doesn't.

I sometimes long for the days gone by when the only thing I had to worry about was whether I would be scared when my brother hid and jumped out at me in the darkened path on the way to the outhouse in the middle of the night!  Or whether one of us would drown in Vincents sandpit where we were cooling off on a hot summer day.  Or whether one of us would choke to death on a bone lodged in our throat from the big old Carp that momma caught in the Arkansas River when she seined for our supper.  Or whether that green Peach I stole off the tree by the chicken house was going to kill me for sure this time.

I remember the rabbit hutches and the babies that grew to be our supper.  I remember the nasty old Muscovy Ducks foraging for a scrap of something in the bottom of the mudholes behind the house where the kitchen sink drained out a pipe from the house.  I remember how the big red rooster used to seek me out and chase me out of the barnyard.  I remember my brother putting the baby kittens in a sack and throwing them in the river.  He wasn't being mean, he was doing as he was told.  Momma could hardly feed us, let alone a bunch of kittens.

Momma always said that people are like the seasons.  Babies are born like the Spring and are fresh and new and flourish, but when we get old we are like the Autumn.  We lose our leaves and and become skeletal like the barren tree against a cold dark sky.  

I have always accepted life in that manner.  I look around at my friend pool, and it is about dried up!  That young girl that used to race out the door and down the street to dance all night has ceased to exist.  The auburn hair is white now and the barefeet that used to fly across the floor are encased in a pair of orthopedic shoes.  The catfish that used to be fun to catch, dipped in corn meal and fried has been replaced by some sort of white, flaky stuff raised on a farm somewhere in a spring fed lake.  Most meals are steamed and fried is a thing of the past.

Fall is here and Winter is on the way!  That means I have to be careful not to slip and fall and wind up with a broken hip.  I have no desire whatsoever to jump in a snow drift or even throw a snowball at the mailman, or mailwoman as the case may be!  A trip out back with a bucket of water for the geese is about all the excitement this old broad can handle!

But I remember!  The kids today will never know the joy of walking home from school in knee deep snow.  They will never know the joy of a pair of galoshes with fur around the top that Santa Claus brought to replace the black ones that Jake grew out of and passed down to me.  They will never know the closeness of sleeping in a bed with 3 other kids.  They will never know what joy a Saturday night bath in a big aluminum tub was!  

The older I get, the fonder the memories become!  Momma always told me that someday my childhood would be something I would look back on and smile.  Something that would bring me joy.  And momma was right!

Momma was always right!

Yesterday is gone, tomorrow is far away.

 That just leaves today to get through.  Today is all we actually have, isn't it?  Yesterday was a hard one, but tomorrow will surely be better.  I had a nightmare that woke me up from a sound sleep and is not leaving me.  I was in a cemetary.  Someone or something was chasing me.  I hid behind a tombstone and then climbed a tree.  Still it pursued me.  By this time I was awake and very afraid so I just got up.  The cat was happy about that, because she is now ensconced on my lap.  She spent most of the night drapped across my head.

Even now, I can feel the terror that the dream brought to me.  I remember the palpable terror that gripped me in my dream.  It is not going to go away easily, but I shall write and bit which always seems to exorcise my demons.  It was on this day in 2002 that Kenneth began his journey to the other side of the bar.  January 30, 2003 he made it.  It was on November 21, 2021 that Anthony crossed over.  Both of these men held a place in my heart that will never be filled.

I know in the recesses of my mind where logic dwells, that death is a vital part of life.  I also believe that there is a higher power that waits for us all to take us to a place where there is no more sorrow and no more pain.  And I know as well as I am setting here feeling the computer keys under my fingers that I will see both of these men, along with Sherman, in a much better place.

But for today, I think I will just remember them as they were.  All of them.   Momma and Jake, Dorothy, Josephine, Mary, Dad and Grandma and Great Grandma.  The aunts and uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews.  All of them.  Ex husbands.  School mates.  Teachers.  Casual friends.  Lovers.  Pets.

So once again the terror of the night has subsided.  The sun has not yet begun it's daily chore of peeking at me from the horizon, but I trust that it will soon.  So I shall get another cup of coffee and prepare to  push the demons back down and do something constructive.  After all, Thanksgiving is only 2 days away and I have company coming.  Between Covid and deaths, I have not celebrated a holiday in the past two years.  I guess it is time to do that!

Peace!

Depression rules this month!

 October and November are the two hard months for me.  Of course, when you get to my age there are anniversary deaths and birthdays every month.  And they occur in every month, but it just seems like fall and winter are the most prolific.  And then I have momma whispering in my ear to remind me that I am getting older.  I almost said I am getting old, but older works better in this context!  My mind is still fairly clear and for that I am grateful, but when I look back at the people who have left me, I get very sad.

Earl, Richard, Gene, Josephine, Jake, Mary, Dorothy, and of course, mom and dad are all gone, along with a myriad of aunts, uncles and cousins.  Just Donna and I are left to carry on the heritage.  I have lost track of all the cousins and their lineage.  I figure I am doing good to remember my kids and their  kids and those kids's kids!  I had a great granddaughter graduate high school last year!  I think I have 8 grandkids and 11 great grandkids.

Longevity seems to be a given in our family.  Either you pass to your great reward in your sixties, or you are doomed to a long and fruitful life.  Since I am now 81 years old, I am assuming I will be a centurion in the future.  Kenneth passed 20 years ago, and I have dated a few times, but I cannot bring myself to think I want to have another husband at this stage of the game!

I tend my geese and raise a garden.  I can my produce and bake and cook.  I drive myself to church and shopping and change my furnace filters when they get dusty.  I need to paint, but that is not happening.  I got the smoke detector down from the top of the wall, changed the battery, but cannot seem to twist it just right to put it back up there.  I am assuming it will beep if it needs to!  It will be much easier to turn off laying on the sewing table by my bedroom door!

Well, the day has begun and the geese want out of their house.  They need to forage through the weeds on the back acre looking for a stray grasshopper or a treasure trove of seeds.  I need to brew up a cup of coffee in my little french coffee press and get ready to face the day.

Momma always said that the old people are like the seasons when it comes to dying.  They either die in the fall like the leaves on the trees dropping to the ground, or they die in the spring, like the new leaves opening.

Momma knows!

Where did that girl go?

I found this picture among my souvenirs.  I think it was probably taken when I was in my senior year of high school.  For the record, I did not graduate high school.  I was too busy doing what I thought was more important, like dancing and "stuff".  After all, I had a job at some burger drive in and could bring home as much as I needed for cigarettes.  Looking back, I think I was pretty.  Even given that, I never dated.  I went to dances and had plenty boys wanting to date me, but I just wasn't interested in settling down or at least not until Earl Duane Seeger walked into the Crow Bar that night back in 1960.

That is me on the far left.  Looking at this picture makes me sad because I am the only one left setting at that table. He passed in 1994.  Larry and Maude passed in the last 2 years.  So that just leaves me.

So time marches on and this is a picture from last year.

 This is from the high tea last year and all of these kids are my great grandkids!  Not grandkids, GREAT Grandkids. I am the little wrinkled up old lady in the center.  These kids are capable of making me a great, great Grandmother! Where did the time go?

Mother called it like it is when she said,  "When you are over the hill, you pick up speed."

Rest in Peace, Momma.

 

Momma said

 When I come to a place in my life where I am not sure which way I should go, it seems momma always pops up in my mind.  She always had the answer.  Whether she knew the question or not was usually a whole 'nother kettle of worms!  She passed before my husband, so I spent many years muddling through without her wisdom.  It is just a good thing that I lucked out and had a good, honest man in Kenny.  I do not know how I made it this far!

The one thing she did leave me with is something I will share with you.  When one of my friends or one of my husbands had disappointed me beyond belief and I expressed this to her that "I thought I knew him better than that", she said, "You never know anyone.  You know of them.  You know the part they let you see."  Those words have came back to haunt me more than once.  Sometimes it breaks my heart to know momma was always right, but she was.

I try to take tentative steps in my life and if nothing pops up in my path, I do pretty good.  I seem to have raised 6 kids who are pretty much responsible and successful and I think for the most part my life is pretty good.  I know one thing for sure, I took/take very good care of the geese !  I got the first 3 goslings when Bret was 8 years old.  He is 30 now and they are still alive.  

My plan was to sell this place when the geese were gone and travel around the country spending time with the kids and grandkids.  Not happening!  Like momma said "The best laid plans of mice and men ofttimes go astray."  I have a hard time typing because I have a cat that insists of laying on the keyboard.  I have a 2400 square foot house and this is the only place she can find to lay.

Fall is in the air and it will not be long before I am out there shoveling my way to the goose house so I can break the ice on the tank so they can drink. I buy 150 pounds of goose food a month which I unload and put in a barrel to feed them.   And I cannot even pet them!  They have never pecked me, but they are not conducive to physical contact.  Well, hell, neither is the cat!  When I try to pet her, she bites me.

So, it is 6 AM and the sun is going to pop up here pretty quick and start my day.  I guess it beats the alternative doesn't it? 

Or does it?

Kinda' funny how the dating thing works.

I recall when I was 18 years old and in a hurry to find a husband to father my children.  I had my criterea.  Number one, he must be handsome.  Number 2, he must have a job.  Number 3, he must love me.  The first two were easy to find.  Since all handsome meant to me was that he not be covered with zits, that was about it.  The first three years of high school seemed to be spent overcoming the teenage acne.  Then after graduation, or in the Senior year, most of the boys started jobs.  By the time a boy reached the age of 20 he was pretty well on his way into adulthood.

So when I met Duane Seeger,who was 3 years older then me,  he was hell bent on marrying and starting a family.  A home would come later.   So after a whirlwind courtship of 3 weeks, we announced our intent to wed.  The wedding would be in 2 days at the chuch on Sherman street.  That marriage lasted 10 years and produced a total of 5 children.  He had met all the criterea, he had a job, he was handsome and thought I thought he hung the moon.  Number 2 met none of the criterea and that marriage lasted 3 months.  Then along came Charlie.  He was handsome and successful.  He brought me to Colorado. I married and divorced him twice.  Sadly he was a philanderer.  Then came Henry.  That one lasted 3 months.  Kenny was the keeper and I spent 20 years in a solid marriage with a man who did not fool around on me, did not drink, never hit me and never forgot a birthday or anniversary.  Sadly I lost him after 20 years.  Mother told me once that if I ever lost a husband he would live in my memory as perfect.  She was right!

So now it is 20 years later and I look at the crop of men to choose from and I am astounded at the lack of interest I can muster!  Since I have now matured to the age of 80 I cannot date a man older than me, because that crop is dead.  If I rake through the ones younger than me they are looking forward to retirement and want to travel.    Get too young and I am robbing the cradle and I do not want to have to get up in the morning and pack his lunch for work!  I can not even find one that wants to dance. Country Western music is the genre I prefer, but all the guitar pickers I used to date are dead and gone.

I guess maybe I just need to set back and enjoy my old age.    

Looking back.....

 Looking back at my life I can see clearly now!  All the things I should have done as opposed to the things I actually did.  My very clear looking back memory show me setting in the church office with the Reverend Rush J. Barnett.  His wife, Genevive and daughter, June bug were some where in the house, but I was in the office talking about my future.  Reverend Barnett was preacher at the First Christian Church in Nickerson, Kansas.  It was one of three churches.  There was the Baptist Church and the Methodist Church.  There were no other churches.  No Catholic Church.

Anyway, I was 16 years old and we were discussing my future as a missionary in Africa.  As soon as I was 18 years old, I could begin the firm plans as to education and all that stuff.  It would be a non paying job, but at 15, I did not need money.  A little food and the clothes on my back.  The church would be responsible for all my travel and I had no other needs at that point in my life. Ah, but the best laid plans of mice and men oft' times go awry!  Not sure I know where I picked that up, but alas it is the God's truth if it were ever written.  Reverend Rush J.Barnett along with his wife and precious baby were transferred "back east."

His replacement was there within a month.  Reverend Johnson and his wife, whatever her name was and his pimply faced son moved into the parsonage.  I do not remember the son's name, only that he was creepy and had a bad case of acne.  Dreams of Africa were laughed out of my head by this new preacher.  Mother finished her schooling, and it was not long after that we made the move from Nickerson, Kansas, population1009 people to Hutchinson, Kansas, population 29,000.  We never traveled back to Nickerson, though it was only 12 miles.  We never bothered finding another church.  I never bothered dating either.  I did not seem to really fit in anywhere, so I took up drinking.  I had a friend whose father made home brew.  Since he was rarely home, we had free rein on the liquor cabinet.

I dropped out of school my senior year, fell in love shortly thereafter.  We were married 3 weeks later and began the life of moving from town to town with my husband working as a tree trimmer.  Our home was usually a furnished apartment in a town where Duane worked until the tree jobs ran out.  Then we would throw our meager belongings in the car and move on to the next town.  It was life as we lived it and being young and in love it worked for us.

Or it did until he decided he wanted to have a baby.  I thought a home first was the order of the day, but not in his world.  I pictured a vine covered cottage with a baby on the floor and he pictured something else.  I was never sure just what he had in mind for security.  I was pretty sure of one thing, if I was going to have a baby there was going to be a doctor and a hospital somewhere in the picture. And there was.  We were two novices at the business of building a home and family with no tools whatsoever, and no guidance from anyone.  But we did it.  We managed to have 5 of those little babies and they have all grown and gone now. He wanted to build an empire for his kids.  That was his dream. 

But I want to tell you that we ended up with 4 girls and one boy.  They are all functioning members of society.  They all pay taxes and most of them vote.  They may actually all vote.  I can not tell you if they are Republicans or Democrats, but I would bet most of them are Independent.  Mother was a fire breathing, Rush Limbaugh following Republican.  I am Independent.  Mom and I never really discussed politics.  I paid for her subscription to Limbaugh's newsletter, but I never read it.

Now, I am the mother.  I am the Matriarch!  My momma told me that.  The Patriarch died many years ago.  He is gone, but he is not forgotten.  60 years ago Lucy and Duansie built the framework of the Seeger Empire.  After we divorced and he built his home in Western Kansas we thought about reconcilling, but that was not to be.  We were now two completely different souls. Several years later we met some where and I asked him, "Well Duane, how is the Seeger Empire nowadays?"  Without missing a beat he replied, "The Seeger Empire is a tad bit shaky!"

But it was his dream and he lived it.  I am glad I was there for part of it anyway.  Humble beginnings is what life is all about.

Fly high, my first love!  We are leaving a legacy in the five kind, loving children we bore and raised to adulthood.  

Gotta' take credit for that!

Is there still love even at my age?

 When I first met Earl Duane Seeger 68 years ago, I knew immediately what love was.  One look in those sky blue eyes, a toss of that sunshine blonde hair and the muscles rippling in his arms and I was in a tailspin.  He was fresh out of the service and looking for love!  He had a job and a car and lived with 2 of his brothers.  A short 3 weeks later we were standing in front of the minister in the Presbyterian Church on Sherman Street  in Hutchinson, Kansas.  His mother had come in from Jetmore, Kansas and a blizzard sent her and Walter back before the service began.  October 30, 1960.  One or 2 of my sisters were there.  I can still close my eyes and remember my first love.

They say you never forget your first love and I believe that to be the gospel truth.  I know he loved me till the day he died and I still hold a very special place for him.  The marriage lasted 10 years and produced 5 beautiful, healthy children!  We shared custody and no one paid child support.  Some times the kids were with me and some times with him.  Even when I married husband #3 and moved to Colorado, the kids traveled back and forth.  Child support was never an issue.  Early on when the kids were with me full time he made the statement "Why should I pay you child support?  You have the kids and I have nothing."  Made sense to me!

So now, many years later he is gone.  I am a widow of 20 years from my 5th husband.   I live in a 2400 square foot house and do not even date.  Church on Sunday, Lagrees grocery through the week and occasionally the little grandson spends the night.  I do have a male friend and sometimes I make lunch or supper for us.  I have coffee with his brother a couple times a month if I remember.  I work as a seamstress for the local uniform store to make a little extra money.  That is my life.  That and taking walks around the neighborhood several times a week and going to the doctor in the spring for my annual checkup.

So what I am wondering this morning, is when did the fire go out and complacency set it as my new normal?  There was a time when I marched for gay rights.  A time when Martin Luther King's dream was also my dream.  When child abuse and neglect would bring me toe to toe with the offender.  A time when I would grab my fishing pole and head to the river all alone to catch the "big one".  A time when a man in a pair of tight Levi's was like waving a red flag in front of a bull!

I guess what I want to know is this:  At what point did I become an old woman and leave the vibrant being I used to be soaking up the sun in a solarium some where?  Is there an internal clock in all of us that one day just shuts off all the emotions I used to have and turns on the nap in front of the television through the news mode?  And through the Jeopardy! I used to like?  I still like to cook, but that is because I need to eat.  I take a shower every morning, but I do not even see the reasoning behind that because I do not even get dusty most of the time.  When did dancing all night end and 8:30 bedtime begin?  Is this all there is to life?

Do not misconstrue this missive as me complaining about my life.  My life is good.  I am secure in my retirement.  I do not want to join the Red Hat Club or volunteer at the local food bank.  Sixty five years ago my dream was to be a missionary in Africa.  I wanted to feed the hungry and comfort the sick, but instead a blonde headed, blue eyed Greek God crossed my path and I never got back on track.  I guess what I want to know is this:  Do any of you out there ever regret the path you followed?  

Momma always said, "You can not get the toothpaste back in the tube."  That just means that nothing once done, can ever be completely undone.  If I had never met Earl Duane Seeger, my life would definitely be different.  Better?  Probably not because I would not have the kids I have today.  They are my legacy and my life.  

But sometimes I just wonder had I actually made it to Africa, would I have made it back home?  I could have been in a pot and been dinner for a bunch of cannibals!  God works in wonderous ways, his miracles to perform.  

Peace! 

Life in the land of Covid.

 Wending my way through this life has been interesting to say the least.  As I enter my (what I hope are) twilight years, I find myself in a unique position.  I have gone though my life without a lot of medical problems.  The removal of my tonsils when I was 12 was the only surgery I really needed.  I still have my appendix and have very few medical issues.  A few tetanus shots, necessitated by stepping on rusty nails, was all I ever needed.  Until now.

Welcome to the land of Covid!  I did the responsible thing I got my vaccinations.  I had 4 of them to be exact.  I wore my mask.  I isolated.  I did everything just like the CDC recommended.  And for the first  year all was well.  And then I had some work done on my house.  Very nice man.  Single and only a few years younger than me.  An anti-vaxxer.  He was careful.  He wore his mask.  Ya da, ya da, ya da. He caught Covid.  When he was first diagnosed, he called and enquired as to all my family and friends, sure that my house was ground zero.  Nope.  I didn't have it, nor did any of my friends.

He finally traced it back to some one he had worked with on some plumbing job.  So he let me off the hook on that one.  Yes, he was going to get vaccinated!  Then, no, he was not getting vaccinated.  He did not know what was in the vaccine.  Of course he doesn't know what is in the food he grabs from the deli every day either, but you know how men are.

And then, after two years of dodging the Covid bullet, I finally seen the second line appear on my covid test.  I was devastated.  I had been so careful, but I had him for supper one night and the next morning he tested positive for a second time in only a few months. That was all it took.  Responsible?  I think not.  Talk about Typhoid Mary!

I do have to say this, if you are vaccinated and still get Covid, you will have a lighter case.  I am very glad I was vaccinated, because had I not been, I am sure I would not be writing this today!  For the first day I slept most of the day and ate very little.  Second day was not much better.  I am still in quarantine.  I do not care if I ever leave this house again.  I do not want this again!  

The above was written several weeks ago, but it is still fresh in my mind.  I do not want to get that crap again, but here is the deal.  It is still out there.  It is still being passed around and I am sure it is still killing people.  I have the masks that I wear which are the approved ones, but I seem to be the only one wearing one.  I went to Walmart yesterday and there was myself and one other old lady with a mask.  I go in the neighborhood drug store and they wear no masks.  A few employees wear masks at LaGreese, but very few of the customers wear one.

I used to have Covid stats in my toolbar and checked them every day, but then I decided that was no longer necessary.  So where do we stand on Covid?  I do not know.  I sometimes think I am the only one worrying about it, but then I may be the one in charge of worrying.  The sad thing is I remember the days of iron lungs in hospital corridors and the death toll from polio.  I remember the days before vaccines for childhood diseases when quarantine signs were tacked on the front doors of houses and the inhabitants could not leave until the doctor said they were clean and free of germs.

I also remember that when I had my babies, I dutifully took them for thier  "childhood" vaccinations.  There was never a question of whether they wanted them or not, just something we did.  It was being good citizens and that is what good citizens did.  It is a little hard to find people of my era that does not carry the small pox scar. And now there is something going around called Monkey Pox.  De ja veau?

Could very well be!

The other shoe just dropped!

 Whether our friends know it or not, Roe vs. Wade was the glue that held it all together.  It actually made it possible for women to have a say over there own reproductive organs.  It made us "equal" in more ways then just one.  For years I have watched and listened to the debate over right and wrong as to the use of my reproductive organs and finally became comfortable with my body and choices I made for it.  Roe vs. Wade saved a lot of lives in the years it was law.

Abortion is not an easy choice, as some people might think.  I can still remember back to when I was still in high school and the gossip was rampant about a woman who did "back alley abortions."  I forget her name, but I still remember snippets of gossip about "Mrs. Somebody" who, for a price would perform an abortion supposedly on her kitchen table.  Some one pointed her out to me and she just looked like a normal everyday woman.  No appearances of a "baby murderer" to me.

Time passed and abortions became more common.  I cannot spout dates and laws, but I do know that at some point the "procedure" became legal.  Of course, there were steps that had to be taken and it seems to me that maybe the father even had to give consent.  I did know a girl who had one and when it leaked out she was shunned and eventually moved away.  But of course, my memory of that is not clear.  Time has passed and a lot of things have changed, but apparently, the need to put limitations on what a woman can and cannot do with her body has not.

What you do in the sanctity of your home, with your body is none of my business.  Apparently, it is the business of the Supreme Court and the judges that set on the high bench and decide what some law that was passed many years ago.  What lofty goals they must have!  How they can set on the highest court in the land and pass judgement on a lonely, scared little girl in a back alley abortion clinic is more than I can understand.  I am sure there is a story that brought her there.  

The sad part of the whole thing is there is no right or wrong to this ordeal.  My God knows the paths I have walked and the places I have been.  He knows the decisions I have made and why they were made.  I have been divorced 5 times.  Divorce is wrong.  Hope they do not decide to set my divorces aside because that could get damn messy!

The fact of the matter in this is that women have now taken a back seat to the functions of their own bodies.  It is not a man over woman victory here,  it is a statement that basically says, "Do as we say.  We are better than you at deciding what you do."  Many years ago when I campaigned for gay rights, which will probably be the next right to fall, there was a speech that went like this:

• 
  
• 
  
• 
  
• 
  
• 
  
• 
  
• 
  
• 
  
• By David W. Virtue

www.virtueonline.org3/26/2007

When the Nazis came for the communists,

I remained silent; I was not a communist.

When they locked up the social democrats,

I remained silent;I was not a social democrat.

When they came for the trade unionists,

I did not speak out;

I was not a trade unionist.

When they came for the Jews,

I did not speak out;

I was not a Jew.

When they came for me, there was no one left to speak out.

Winter doldrums, spring fever and summer sweat.

 My world is a wonderful place!  Winter is behind me and since it was a mild one and all the geese survived, it was a fairly good one.  Spring bursts forth with a wonderful display of leaves, foliage and flowers to stir the juices in my soul and make my heart sing.  Now we enter summer.  I like summer.  Not sure why, but I do.  It brings out the bugs, bees, hummingbirds, and vicious summer storms.   The first three things I really like.  The summer storms I can do without!

Now, Kansas was a different story as far as storms go!  Most days were just days.  Some were hot and some were hotter.  Some times it rained and some times it poured!  But always in the summer we watched the sky line for the clouds that could bring the tornadoes.  There always seemed to be a feeling in the air of what could be.  The tornado clouds were low and dark and the storm trackers were in their element as they scurried from one area to another to get a closer look at impending doom.  The air seemed to be full of electricity from the approaching storms.

Since I had a nest full of kids at the time, I watched the sky line and wished that this time I had a house with a storm cellar.  Now when I did have a house with a storm cellar I never went down there.  Storm cellars were just for that purpose and since no one went down there, spiders were prolific and BIG!  I harbored the idea that the tornado would suck all the webs and spiders out before I got down there, but I am not sure that was a rational thought!

A side note here on the cellar business.  When we lived in Glasco, which is in northern Kansas, we lived in a farm house that had a root  cellar.  This was a nice root cellar with concrete walls and floor and ceiling.  It even had a light hanging from the ceiling.  Of course, the first thing Duane and his brothers did was to "set" a crock of grapes which would ferment into wine.  Also something that would turn into some other form of alcoholic beverage in time.

The rules on this was that under no condition was myself or Maude, Larry's wife, to go into that root cellar.  That was "man business".  I also at that time had a little Chihuahua dog named Jake. (Jake will enter the story again!)  A couple weeks passed and the men went to work and the women stayed home.  We were very compliant about not going into the root cellar, but alas!  Much like the forbidden fruit that tempted Eve, the root cellar called to us.  What was going on down there out of our sight?

So one day we decided to just go look.  Two crocks were setting on the ledge and we lifted the cover and peered in at a stinking mess of grapes and water  with foam on top.  That was one foul smelling concoction, so we quickly covered it back up and scurried up the stair.  We saw no hope of any of that mess being of any use at all to us.

So the men returned home.  Supper was on the table so we ate.  Then Duane said, "Where is the dog? I haven't seen him since I got home.  That was unusual since Jake was usually there in case somone lost control and threw meat on the floor.  We began the search.  No dog.  After looking in all the usual places we gave up.  Duane then decided to check his alcohol progress in the cellar.  Lo and behold!  There was Jake shut up in the cellar!  How did he get there?  Were we in the cellar where we were not supposed to be?

Oh, no!  We would never break the rules!  Then how did that dog get in the cellar?  And try as I might, I could not lie my way out of that one!  I will not go into the scene that followed, but suffice it to say, I never disobeyed another rule that man made.  Never went into the root cellar again and the biggest blackest clouds could come and the storm that followed was mild in comparison to a husband who had been lied to by his wife!  

That was 60 years ago.  Jakie and Oopsie, my two dogs have been gone for years.  There is no one left to share my memories with anymore.  That is sad to me.  I often wonder if my mother had memories she wanted to share and I did not have the time nor the inclination to listen?  

I miss my momma!  I miss the old aunts and uncles!  I miss the history that I will never have a chance to learn now.  But most of all, I miss who I was then.  I was a 90 pound girl and the world lay before me.  Mother always said, "Hindsight is 20/20, looking back."

So I set here and remember and try to document just some of the history so some day maybe my grand kids and great grandkids will read some of this stuff and know that grandma had hopes and dreams and wants and needs.  Just maybe they will find a tiny corner of their hearts where they can bask in memories that will never pass this way again.

Peace and Love!