And that is not right either!!

 I finally got signed in so I can write my blog, but sadly this will not last long!  I am locked out of every bank account,  facebook, etsy, paypal,  my mail, and anything else I ever hoped to do!  My internet went south on me for a few days and when I got it back up and running everything else was new to me!  

I  had something I wanted to tell you, but I forgot what it was.  I do have a new dog.  Her name is Minerva. .  She is a black and white Heeler and she actually likes me.  Sadly she tries to hug my legs when I am walking, which makes me a little nervous since I have brittle bones and stuff!  Not sure I can pay for a broken hip on my budget.

So hopefully, the Internet will stay up for a while and I can get in a few of my accounts and life will be good again.  Sure missed writing the last month or so.

Right now I am very sleepy so I am going to bed.  Hope to be in touch again tomorrow with lots of catching up to do!

Peace!

Security?? For me or From me?

Just spent several hours locked out of most of my accounts because I wanted to share a bit of good news on my blog!  I must confess that after changing passwords on several accounts so I could get to his site, I have forgotten what the good news was!  Not only have I forgotten the good news, but I have forgotten all the passwords and I rather doubt that when I get through posting this, that I will give a big rat's patootie!

Life was so simple when I first ventured into the blogging arena!  But now, I find my desk covered with notes I have written myself, giving myself little hints on how to get into my account.  I must admit, my life was sure a lot simpler back  when I  was stupid and no one wanted to steal my identity.  Right now I do not even want my identity!

When I first ventured into this world of secret words and stuff I signed in to everything with "password".  Worked for me and no one stole my identity.  I could not imagine why anyone would want to be me!  Hell!  I did not even want to be me.  As life in the world of secret passwords began to take on it's own life, my passwords became more and my attention span became shorter.  It was not long before I hated the computer and all it's demands for longer and more complicated passwords.  Gone were the days when one password would open any program.

Last night I got on to pay a bill.  It should have been a 3 minute job.  Needless to say, it did not end up that way.  They insisted I change my password (in case it had been compromised).  That having been done I then had to tranfer money from my bank account to the bill I was paying.  Then I had to change the password on the bank account.  

Now, I am going to post this.  In the good old days I would just add a few labels , state my location and then hit the publish button.  Hopefully this will publish and I can hit another key and it will appear on facebook.  

The sad part is that I do not even remember at this time what I wanted to say to all of you.  I know it was important, but that is all I remember.  

So, until we meet again, Happy Trails and all that.  May the wind be at your back and the road rise to meet you.  The password for today is totalconfusion!!!!

Peace!

Do geese eat grasshoppers?

   There are grasshoppers in my yard bigger than my cat!  They try to jump on my leg for a free ride around the yard, but I do not let that happen. I do not like their sticky legs.  I do not like their little tight lips, nor their bugged out eyes.  They are tricky little varmints.  They can land on a light bulb and not fall off before  propelling themselves off in any direction, except to the direction I thought they were going to jump.

They are not afraid of humans.  Insect spray does not harm them.  They eat everything in sight except weeds.   They do not eat weeds. They travel in packs!  They go from a tiny thing the size of a gnat into a 3 inch long giant grasshopper in seven minutes! 

If it were not for the fact that they are the most destructive things on planet Earth, they would be fascinating creatures.  They can fly.  They can take off from a dead standstill and become airborne in a blur.  They can jump further than a kangaroo.  I think they fly.  They are both aerodynamic and waterproof.  I think they chew tobacco, although I do not know where they get it!

I do not know where they sleep, or if they sleep.  I know I go out early in the morning and there is no sign of them, and suddenly the air is full of them.  Insecticide does not phase them.  I did buy something once that the man told me makes them sterile.  Birth control for grasshoppers??  That did not work either. I think it actually increased the horde!

I have seen my mother goose try to catch and eat one, but she failed in that endeavor, so I am guessing the geese prefer grain.

So, I am praying for frost.  It will not kill them, but it slows them down.  Back in the days of the pioneers, they talked of "herds of locusts, that blocked out the sun!"  They don't fool me.  It was those damn grasshoppers!  

They can put a man on the moon, but they cannot find a spray to eliminate the grasshoppers.  So what can we do to get rid of them?

 My answer to this is , "who knows?"  Just pull up my big girl pants and move on!  Winter will come someday!

As twilight falls....

 When I awake in the morning, I usually reflect on times gone by.  Often they are waaaaaaaaaaaaay bygone, but sometimes more recent.  This morning I was counting my blessing, one of which is that I still seem to have a healthy body and a good portion of my mind at my disposal!  But then I drifted to a place where a friend of mine named Nancy was stored.

Nancy was a lady, to say the very least.  She was very smart having a background in teaching both in primary school , but later in college.  She was married with 4 children, grown and gone.  The children were also very smart and successful in their chosen fields.  She was always very well groomed and never seemed to be flustered by anything life handed her.  She was a widow by the time I met her.

She and I were both retired and widowed.  She lived with two sons who were old enough to have families, but had never married nor reproduced.  My family was grown and gone on to build lives outside of the Pueblo area. So as two settled in our lives adults, we became friends.  

As such we went to lunch usually once a week.  Sometimes she prepared food and sometimes I did.  But mostly I would pick her up and we would go "out for lunch".  We took turns picking up the check or we went dutch.  Just depended on our mood.  We would then go for a walk somewhere interesting, like the Nature Center, or one of the nearby parks.  Just two adult women killing a little time and catching up on the weeks events.  But that all changed.

Sometimes there would be a lapse in the conversation that lasted longer than it should.  I would ask a question and she would smile at me.  Usually she was waiting on the porch when I arrived since I called her from a block away, but sometimes I would have to go to the door.  It became my responsibility to do all the driving at one point.

Then I began to notice, her hair which was a beautiful silver, was not always combed.  Our conversations became more me talking and her listening.  Then our weekly lunches became further apart.  She never called me, I always called her.  So we began to drift apart.  Then her daughter called to tell me that she had gone into a senior retirement home, temporarily.  Of course I went to see her.

She was the perfect lady, as usual.  She began to talk about how she remembered the kindness my son had shown her when he removed a tree from her yard.  My son lives in Dallas, so I was sure that was a hallucination.  The next visit she asked if I would like her to make us lunch.  She explained that she had lots of food in her refrigerator and opened the door to reveal one orange and a bottle of water.  I knew the facility had a dining hall so she was fed, but she sure was not equipped to prepare a meal from that meager refrigerator.  My heart broke that day.  

I never went back.  She had no idea who I was, so I did not want to further confuse her.  It just broke my heart that such a beautiful and brilliant woman could have this happen to her and she did not even know it was going on.  She passed a few weeks later.  I guess that is how this disease works.  You forget your friends, your family and then your body.  It is so sad, but then it is over.

I miss her.  I will always miss her, but I miss a lot of people at my age.  It looks like I am destined to live for a long time because I have the genes for it.  I do not think I have the dementia gene because only one member of my family ever had it, to my knowledge.  My hope is that I will get older, have a clear mind and then just drop dead watching the geese chasing grasshoppers in the back yard.

Momma always used to say  "God will never give you more than you can handle."  Momma is right.

Momma was always right!

Peace! 

It will all come out in the wash.

 Sometimes I get down and feel sorry for myself.  This is usually proceeded by something said or not said by a person in my life.  You must understand that I have very tender feelings and my heart has been broken more than once by something someone said or did not say.  They might not have actually said anything, but they may have looked at me and I thought maybe they were thinking about saying something.  To say I am a tad bit paranoid may be an understatement, if you get my drift.  I am sure that it all harkens back to the poverty days of my childhood.  I take comfort in the fact that my momma did the very best she could.  I did make a vow when I became the sole support of five needy little children, that I would do the very best I could.  And I did.

Working meant leaving the kids in the care of a babysitter a lot.  I hired a single lady from the south end to stay with the kids while I worked.  Bless her heart she tried.  Sadly the woman had a facial hair problem so did not fit in normal society.  In the beginning the kids were scared of her due to the fact that she had a pretty full beard!  She always wore an apron and in the pocket was 5 pieces of candy.  This, at least, got her in the door!  One for each kid.  I do not know what they did all day while I was at work, but the house was still standing and there were no injuries to anyone, so I was good with that. 

The kids had pretty much become accustomed to her when the boss's son was sent to Viet Nam and his wife needed a place to live.  Exit Ida Mae, enter Janice, a live in babysitter.  A match made in heaven, or so it seemed.  That lasted about 2 weeks.  Sam turned up with a long thin bruise on the side of his face.  Seems like Janice had struck him with the edge of a wooden ruler. Exit Janice and enter a long string of temporary workers.  I do not remember the string of temporary workers that went through my revolving door until finally the kids were old enough to want to go stay alone.  Susie was younger so she stayed with Mrs. Bensing.  Then, one by one they decided they wanted to attend school in Deerfield and later in Lakin, where their dad lived in Western Kansas.

And then I married Charlie and we moved to Colorado.  Susie started school at Jefferson Elementary.  Then I divorced Charlie, married Henry, divorced Henry, married Kenny and moved to the Mesa   And now it is 40 years later.

 After the kids graduated they mostly came back to Colorado.  They migrated back and forth beween here and there. And here we set.

I am on the Mesa, a widow of 20 years. 

Debbie is in Longton, Kansas married to Hammer who did 2 tours in Viet Nam. She has one son , one granddaughter, and 2 grandsons.

Patty is in Longton, Kansas.  She has 2 daughters, one granddaughter, and 3 grandsons.

Dona is in Lakin, Kansas.  She owns a beauty shop. She lost one son in an accident and has one living and 2 granddaughters.

Sam is in Dallas, Texas.  He is married to Allen.  They will take care of me when I get old, next week.

Susie is married to Tim and they have 4 dogs.  She lives across town.

I have come a long way from Strong Street, but it is all good.  Or at least I think so.  I some times get confused and wonder what the hell I was thinking, but like I said up above...

It will all come out in the wash!!

Peace!

Me, covid, and liver and onions!

 That sentence right there breaks every rule in the English language!  That having been said, let me forge ahead with my tale.

Over the last 2 years I have become pretty much a recluse.  I venture out to the store and church and that is about it.  I am fully vaccinated, but I did contract Covid about a year ago.  I did not like it.  I was incapacitated for 2 full days and nights.  I would not call it "sick" because sick entails a lot of throwing up and I rarely get sick.  I did take to my bed for two days with respiratory symptoms that caused me to once more renew my lifelong commitment to God, Mother and the flag.  That was over a year ago!  I had a small gathering for Thanksgiving and a granddaughter tested positive for Covid, so she gathered her brood and left.  Her mother remained with me and she immediately tested positive, so we quarantined for about a week.  So...

I test weekly and wear my mask when I go to the store.  Now I have always been a fairly "out and about person", but Covid has changed that.  So I have decided to make a greater effort to be social again.

Last night I had my dear friends, Rebecca and Ron over for liver and onions.  I like to cook and I like to have people in for meals.  I think most people are gregarious and that old saying "No man is an island unto himself." comes to mind.  Now on to the jest of the conversation that led to this blog post.

The subject came up of the blog that I have, that you are now reading.  I used to write regularly, but now it seems my main thing in life is to doze in front of the television while Ken Jenning regales me with the afternoon version of Jeopardy! 

Well, to make a long story short, I invited them for supper last night and the fare was Liver and Onions.  A good time was had by all and I sent the leftovers home with them.  It was nice to have someone to talk to beside myself!  Conversation is defined as an exchange of ideas between two or more people.  Now granted, I do occasionally talk to myself, or sing out loud, but this is different.  I say something, then they say something and it goes on like that!  

So, thank you, Rebecca and Ron, for coming to my house and talking to me!  We will have to do this more often!  Next time I will cook something besides Liver and we will include Ross in the dinner party! That should be fun!

Peace!

Trick or Treat!

 Halloween is fast approaching and while it is fraught with bad memories for me, there are also a few that bring me fond memories.  October 30 is/was my first journey into the state of Holy Matrimony.  While that did not last and has a lot of sadness connected with it, it nonetheless gave me all 5 of my children.  That is good.  It is also the day my brother was in a car cras and death claimed him the next day.  So this year I am going to take a journey back to Halloween when I was but a wee lass!

As I recall, Nickerson, Kansas boasted a population of 1200 souls.  Not every street had a street light, but most of them did.  Our costumes usually consisted of paper grocery bags that momma had saved from the Fleming grocery or Berridge IGA.  These were laid out on the table after mother had cut a mouth and eyes in them.  She then dug out broken crayons that she had saved from school last year.  Each one of us colored our grocery bag as we chose.  Jake always made a scar face on his. If you recall, he had a scar on his cheek that he carried all his life because a horse kicked him in the face when he was very young.  Anyway....

We were sent into the world of free candy carrying some sort of bag which we hoped to fill with candy.  We were also reminded to say please and thank you.  And don't be greedy!  Only take one piece.  Now back in those days we did not have to worry about some one putting razor blades in apples or dusting candy with LSD.  Our biggest worry was that the next house would  have a big bowl of candy corn and our greatest hope was that maybe somebody would give us a Hershey Bar.  Candy corn was gross and chocolate was hard to come by.  A lot of the homes had home baked cookies, which was good.  Back in those days the crazies had not yet came out of the woodwork and we could do that.  Not anymore!  Now the sacks have to be filled with individually wrapped items, taken somewhere and x-rayed before eating out of them.

It was always fun going from door to door and knocking.  Usually, some lady or her husband would come to the door and appear to be surprised and pleased to see us.  Usually.  If the porch light was not on that meant they were out of candy, so we just passed them by.  The hardest part of the whole thing was when we came to a block with no houses.  That is where the big boys hid and would jump out and steal our candy sacks.  They were high school kids, so we did not know them, and it only happened once to us, so we were careful to stay in the well-lighted areas.

The best part was when we got home and momma went through the sacks.  She examined each piece to be sure her babies would not bite into a razor blade.  She did not worry about the candy being laced with drugs, because back then, we did not know about the existence of such things.  Oh, the innocence of youth!

The short time I was in Plevna with the grandma's was probably one of my best Halloween's!  Population of Plevna was 109.  Of those few souls, several of them managed to steal a horse drawn buckboard from somewhere and hoisted it onto the roof of the gymnasium at the school.  Not sure they ever figured out who did that, but I think it was some ornery little rascals from Abbyville!  Or maybe Pretty Prairie.

So, here I set in my house that sets on a back acre.  No one will come to my house, because they cannot find it.  I will buy a little bag of miniature Heath bars or Almond Joy bars, just in case.  Course those happen to be my favorite candy bar and if  someone one comes to my house, I will give them one.  But if no none comes, I will have to eat them.  I hate to think of eating something I don't like.  

So there it is!  This year instead of mourning my brother or the demise of my first marriage, I will focus on the positive!  I will remember how happy I used to be all those years ago when we lived in abject poverty on a dead end street back in Nickerson, Kansas.  All I have left of those years is one sister.  The grandma's and aunt's and uncles are all gone.  I have a couple shirt tail second or third cousins, but that is it!

I also have my memories of days gone by and the best part of that is that they are mine and I can remember them as I choose to remember them.  Sometimes my memories make me very sad, but sometimes they are very happy and I can feel love over the years and the miles.  

That is the best part of old age!

Peace!

Lagree's on the Mesa

My favorite grocery store is a pretty well kept secret.  It is one mile up the road and I pop in there several times a week.  I have actually popped in there several times a day if I am having one of those days when I am completely disorganized.  

I moved out here on the Mesa when I married my last husband 40 years ago.  At that time it was Chet's grocery store.  Kenny was a wise man and told me that we needed to support the local grocery store or the time would come when we needed a loaf of bread and we would have to make a 30 minute drive to town and back.

Sadly, the original owner sold to someone else and the store began to go downhill.  Then the roof began to leak.  Lack of maintenance began to show.  The shelves began to carry inferior brands and the store soon became a place where one shopped as only a last resort.  I think it actually sat empty for a while.  

Then, Hark!  A new owner!  The first thing on his agenda was to repair the roof!  Not more walking around buckets of rain water to shop.  It is my understanding that Lagrees also exists in Alamosa, and another town in the mountains.

You can click on the article on my facebook page and save me a lot of typing!  Here is what I want to tell you.  Lagreese is a very user friendly store.  Clerks, stockers, and even the person cleaning has a smile and will say hello.  I live a mile away from the store and twice left my purse in a cart out in the parking lot.  Both times it was retrieved and returned to me.  Not sure I can do that at King Soopers.  (Not sure I should do that any where!)

And if you think just because they are a small store you will not be able to get something, think again!  Canning supplies, dog bones, organic produce, fresh cut meat, dairy products!  All there.  If you can not find something, just ask one of the stockers.  From lye for soap making to Filet Mignon for a romantic supper.  All there.

Kenny said it best when he said "We have to support out local businesses or they can not survive and when we need something we will have to drive all the way into to town and pay the same price, plus city tax."  

Kenny was wise.  Kenny and Momma.  They would have made a good match!

Kansas at it's best!

I did not plan a trip to Kansas, but here I am,  I knew I was missing my sister and my nieces and nephew, and it was my desire to travel back home a some point, but just not right now.  Kansas is rather notorious for tossing a tornado into the mix when you least expect it and that is why I had not wanted to come here at the height of tornado season,  But here I set!

Today I had lunch with my friend Joe at Skaets Steak Shop, which is owned by my sister .  Then on Saturday my daughter and her husband will be here with 3  great grandkids,  Probably have supper with Alina and Tom, spend some time with Evelyn and then get up on Sunday and head back to Colorado.  I grew up in this neck of the woods so i know a few people.

Right now the weather is kind of cool, but it knows how to get hot and humid when it wants to!  I am hoping it will not do that, but who am I?  The wheat is looking good and I think there will be a bumper harvest this year!  I tried to call cousin Daryle, but no answer.   Sister Donna is asleep on the couch, so I am left to my own devices.  I think I will wander down stairs and see what became of the room I used to sleep in when I came.

Guess I am at a loss for something to do.  Just wanted to check in,

Momma never really left me.

 Momma is still with me.  I see her arm and hand coming out of my sleeve.  I see her eyes watching me in the mirror.  I even hear her voice in my head when I am faced with one of my dilemmas. (She would be proud that I spelled dilemmas correctly on the first pass!)  My mother was very smart.  She was also very pretty.  When I went to live with the grandma's at the start of my freshman year, I was enrolled in Plevna High School.  Mother enrolled me and at that time girl's were automatically enrolled in Home Economics.  There were no such thing as electives, it just was what it was.

To get to the crux of the matter and set the background for this post, the Home Economics teacher was a lady named Ms. Crawford.  Ms. Crawford had gone to school with Christine Haas, who just happened to be my mother, Christine Haas, at the time.  Now my mother was not only very smart, she was also beautiful.  She had the prettiest hazel eyes, trim figure and flawless skin that was to die for.  I inherited my skin clarity and tone from her.  All through puberty when the other kids were battling acne,  my skin remained smooth as silk.  To this day I do not recall ever having one of those things called a pimple.  I was very lucky.

Back to the topic of Ms. Crawford.  Home Economics in the Plevna High School encompassed all 4 years.  As a Freshman in a class of 12 meant that the Home Ec class meant there were 7 of us girls in her class.  The first day she picked me out as that little Bartholomew girl.  Her nose sure looked long when she looked down it at me and announced to the class that she had gone to school with my mother.  Something about the tone of her voice when she said "your mother" made my blood run cold.  Her whole demeanor to me was different then with the other "farm kids".  It was my first case of being disliked simply because of jealousy over which I had no control.

Needless to say, I flunked Home Economics with flying colors.  There was no way in the world I could do anything to please that woman.  My other grades were high, but there was no hope in that class.  Suffice it to say, after that debacle I grew up to work as a cook, manage a restaurant, and own a restaurant, so I must have learned a lot after I left there!  

I have often wondered just what caused the animosity between those two women.  I guess it was not between them, just on Mrs. Crawfords side.  Momma  picked me up take me home to Nickerson one time and Mrs. Crawford passed us with her nose in the air.  I told Momma that she did not like me and Momma said, "It has nothing to do with you.  That is just how she is.  She does not like me."  That was all that was said about it.

And here I set 65 years later wondering what that was all about.  I could never fathom what caused the animosity between those two and now there is not a soul left that could tell me.  I just know this, my mother was the sweetest, kindest, most wonderful woman to ever grace God's green earth and it was Mrs. Crawfords loss.  

And another thing momma told me was "You never know anyone.  You know of them.  You know the part they let you see."  Momma was right.  Over the years I have known many people, but I have not really known them.  I have loved many times, but not known most of them.  A leopard never changes its' spots.  Momma said that.  Momma was usually right.

I miss my Momma.

Life before the street lights came on.

 I started first grade a month before I turned 5.  I remember my teacher was Miss Donough when we started and she was Mrs. Breece when school was out for the summer.  We lived on the Stroh place when we started, but moved into the only home my father ever bought before school was out for the summer.  I have few memories of the Stroh place, but those I have are vivid.  Dorothy was born there.  Mother went to club every month there.  There was a big mudhole by the house that we were not supposed to play in there.  Donna poked a turtle with her finger and it latched on and John Britan had to cut its head off to make it let go.  Jake was kicked in the face by our Shetland pony.  He carried the scar until the day he died. Our old cow caught some disease and died, leaving us with no milk for the baby.  But in the spring, we moved to our own house on the other side of town out by the cemetery.  Dad bought another cow.  That was Strong Street.  709 North Strong Street to be exact.

I do not remember where the street light was located, but it seems to me it was right past the Reinke house and before the Smith house.  Probably right in front of the Goodrick house.  I do know we went out every night after supper to play in the "hood".  We had to be careful not to speak to any strangers because they would kidnap us and kill us or sell us to the Gypsy's which was a fate far worse then death!

Strong Street was a destination, not something you came across by accident, so we were fairly safe there.  Hank Windiate, the old crippled man with the horse and wagon lived on the end of the street, right across from Jerry and Ora Ayres.  First was our house, then the Reinke house, then Jake Smith and then Hank Windiate. The Ayres house, which was seperated by a vacant lot from the Goodrick house was the last house on that side of the street.

  

Our house, the Reinke house and the Ayres house were the only houses that had kids.  The Reinke girls, whose mother had died after giving birth to her last child, were not allowed out after dark.  Neither were the Ayres kids who were older, so it was basically just us.  So every night it was a rousing game of "Kick the Can!"  Now, for those of you who do not know how to play this, I will explain the rules.

First, you must have a can.  Now back in the 40's, a tin can was a coveted item.  First it meant your parents had enough money to buy a can of vegetables, or your brother had gone to the dump and foraged around and found a nice solid tin can!  Jake was good at that!  The can was placed upside down over a place that was designated as "home" and was usually located by the old Catalpa tree.  Whoever was "It" closed their eyes and counted to 100 while all the kids ran and hid.  Then "It" would go and find the hiding kids.  That kid would be brought back to the can and placed in "jail."  The only way to get out of jail was for one of the "hiders" to wait for the "jailer" to wander off and look for another hider to tag and "arrest".  When the jailer left someone could run in and "kick the can", thereby freeing all the kids held in the jail.  Some times one of the kids from "town" would come by and play.  That always made it more fun.

We were allowed to play for 30 minutes after the street light came on.  We knew when 30 minutes was past because mother would holler for us to "get in here and get ready for bed."  Now "getting ready for bed" was another ritual.  That simply meant washing our feet in the wash bowl in the kitchen and drying them on the ragged old towel that hung from the back of the chair.  Now that may not sound like much to you, but to this day, I can not go to bed with dirty feet.  Of course, now that I have shoes AND socks, dirty feet are a rarity around here, but some memories never die.  

Sometimes I find myself looking at an empty can and thinking how Jake would immediately think about using it for our next game of "Kick the Can."  I wonder if my sister, Donna Bartholomew remembers those nights on Strong Street?

The years have dimmed my eyes and slowed my feet, but my mind continues to relive some of the best times of my life back when the hardest thing I had to do was "Kick the Can" and save my sisters and brother.  I wonder if that helped make me into the woman I am today, that marched in the Gay Rights Parade and held the hands of the hospice clients as they crossed to the other side?  I like to think so.  

I do know Mothers Day is just around the corner and I would give my right arm to just be able to see my mother one more time and look into her gray eyes and tell her I love her.  I think she always knew, but I never said it often enough.

I host a high tea at my church the Saturday before Mother's Day.  Tickets are $25 if you are interested.  This year I am going to have a table for "Mothers pictures."  If you are interested in attending contact me here on facebook or call my church at 719-544-1892 and leave a message with Jill.   My number is 719-546-1555 here at home.

Cleanliness is next to Godliness!

 At least that is what momma always told us.  Now back in the day that she preached that, we did not have running hot and cold water.  We never actually had any running water in the house.  We had an electric pump out by the horse tank.  Horses need a lot of water.  Since their water needed to be clean, we were not allowed to play in the horse tank no matter how hot it was.  Of course, I was terrified of those big horses with their big, yellow teeth.   There was no way in the world that I would let them come near me.  Of course, my dad was not the best fence builder, so it was not unusual to find they had escaped.  That meant we had to go find them and lead them home.  "We" was usually Jake and I.  I digress.

Summers in Kansas are very hot!   Very hot and usually very dry, but occasionally we did get a rain.  When that happened, Strong Street was usually flooded.  Since we had an old car that was only used to go to Grandma's house, we walked everywhere.  Now you should know that barefeet in the mud is one of the small pleasures we had.  A mud puddle was meant to be walked through barefooted!  I think that might have been a law back then.

Now, you should know that bare feet and cool water in a mud puddle is not the only joy of my childhood!  When the mudpuddle began to dry up, we did not walk in it.  We waited patiently for it to dry up and when it did there was a whole new joy!  When it was completely dry, it formed a crust.  The crust then turned into a curled- up crust and we could step on the curls and feel them crumble beneath our feet.  Oh, my vision of heaven contains a lot of mudpuddles!  Of course, this was the bane of my mother's existence!  Before we came in the house we had to go to the pump and wash our feet.  "You are not getting in that bed with those filthy feet!"

So, Jake and I would take turns pumping for the smaller kids and each other.  Bonding was different back there on Strong Street than it was on Avenue A in Hutchinson.  When we moved to the big city with running water, we were afraid to use it.  We did not want to "wear it out" or "use it all up".  We did like to set in the bathtub with no water on hot days and watch the little red haired boy who worked at the film developing place across the alley.  Forgot the name of it, but the boy's name was Tommy and my little sister, Mary ending up marrying him!  Sadly, they are both gone now.  There is  nobody left but Donna and I.  

Funny how that works, isn't it?

It makes me sad.

 As life goes on, so does my memory, which is actually a good thing until it wakes me up in the middle of the night.  Last night I woke up remembering my oldest sister and, of course, Nickerson, Kansas.  I was 15 years old and my sister, Josephine was pregnant.  She had a little girl who was 3 or 4 as I recall.  Her husband was at work in the oil field.  As I recall his shifts were 24 on and 24 off, but that could be just something that came into my head, because I never really paid much attention.

On this particular day I had been sent to stay with her to keep an eye on her daughter, who shall remain nameless for this story.  I liked the little girl so it was no problem to entertain her.  Josephine was another matter.  She stayed in bed and appeared to be in some sort of distress, but how was I to know what was actually happening?  I had no idea where babies came from and was not interested in learning about the birds and the bees at this point in my life.  I was there to entertain my niece, and that was what I was doing.  But Josephine had other ideas.

She called me into the bedroom and told me to take her daughter, my niece, and go get help because the baby was coming.  I grabbed my niece and ran next door to the preachers house.  He called the grocery store and told his wife, who was a nurse, to come home right now.  He assured me it was all under control and that I should take my niece and go to my house where mother was and send her to Josephine.

It was only 3 blocks, but it seemed like it was miles.  I carried my niece most of the way which was not easy as she was heavy for me.  But we made it.  Mom left on foot because we had no car.  To make a long story short, the baby was stillborn.  It was a little boy.  

The next day, Jack Lamb, the mortician, brought a tiny coffin to the house.  He brought it in and set it on the coffee table.  He opened the lid to show us a very tiny little boy wrapped in a soft blue blanket.  His little hand was positioned to hold the blanket closed and I would have thought he was only sleeping had I not known.  That was so sad and a picture in my mind that will never fade.  

Since that time, I have attended many funerals, but I always see that tiny baby in my mind.  I went to visit the Nickerson cemetery several years back and visited the tiny grave of Baby Boy.  He did not have a name, but he will never be forgotten.  Although he never breathed a breath on this side of the veil, he still lives in my mind and my heart.  65 years later he is still in my mind holding his blanket together under his tiny chin.

Some memories never die.

Way back when

 Back when I was a wee lass and protected from the harsh reality of the world, Thanksgiving was different.  Our mode of transportation was mostly on the back of an old plow horse or our two feet.  Of course we rarely left Nickerson, but occasionally we did.  The grandmas and aunts lived in Plevna which was 20 miles.  But this one time I am remembering my dad had a son that lived in Hutchinson and invited us to Thanksgiving dinner.  That was a 12 mile trip and central Kansas in the winter is nothing short of brutal.  So, us kids were all a twitter for the upcoming adventure.  

Since it had snowed the night before we awoke to a freezing cold landscape with a brilliant sun shining.  Mom and dad figured it would take us about 3 hours to make the trip.  We bundled up in our coats and scarves and prayed to the good Lord above to please, just keep us out of the ditch.  Mother had heated rocks in a bundle to help keep us warm since the cars back then did not have heaters.   We had wool army blankets to huddle under.  And off we went.

We sailed down the highway at about 6 miles an hour.  Of course we carried cans of water because the radiator leaked and we stopped regularly to add water to the radiator.  We arrived at Earl's house before noon and we were so relieved to be there.  His wife's name was Gertie.  The house was heated by a "gravity flow heater".  The heat was transferred to the house by means of an open grate in the floor.  One of the boys (Leon I think) had crawled across the grate and been badly burned.  Back in those days this was a fairly regular occurrence. He did carry the scars for as long as I knew him.

I do not recall the dinner, perse, but I know it was good and I know there was pie.  And corn, mashed potatoes, gravy, turkey, dinner rolls and casseroles of something.  We prayed over our dinner.  We never ate a meal that was not prayed over by the men of the household.  Well except at the grandma's because there were no men there.  We used to pray about everything that affected us from the moment we got up until the prayers were said preparatory to bed.  I kind of miss that.  But back to the trip.

We had to leave as soon as the midday meal was over and the kitchen "redded up" in order to be home in time to do the nightly chores.  So loaded with leftovers we began the trip back to our house.  We knew if we waited too long the roads would "freeze up" and make driving hazardous.  Every one of us had to make a last stop in the necessay room to avoid having to pee alongside the road where "God and everybody would see our bottom!"

Even back then at the tender age of 8 or nine, I loved my family.  All of them.  Even the ones I did not know.  Looking back is always better because I have my selective memory and I was bound to my sisters and brothers with a blood line that would never change.  Or so I thought.  I have one sister left.  We are not in touch any more.  She is busy and I am in Colorado.  It used to bother me, but not any more.  I have friends who are closer then any blood could ever be.  I have children that think I hung the moon! I just had my 80th Thanksgiving and there was no one there that carried my blood in their veins, but that does not matter.  I was thankful for the meal and the comraderie and the 2 dogs that showed up later.

The trip up and the trip back was uneventful and with traffic like it is, uneventful is good!  So this Thanksgiving I can give thanks for those that I love and those that love me.  Thanks for friendships and kinships that make my world go around.  And most of thank the universe for spinning and holding me to the earth, grounded in friendships, kinships and the tiny flowers that are going to sleep for the winter and will burst forth next Spring to thrill me with their beauty.

But most of all thank my God for surrounding me with the compassion of my friends and family who have accepted me as I am with all my faults and short comings.  Thanks to God for giving me a clear mind and a strong back and an innate insight that lets me see people as they are and overlook their shortcomings.

Today is the day that the Lord has made!  Let us rejoice and be glad in it!

Peace!       

Life goes on in spite of it all.

 I woke up at 3:10 AM this morning missing my momma.  I am not good with dates and have to consult a book when pressed to put a time, place and date on any given event.  Seems like Bret was 3 or 4 years old when momma died and he is pushing 30 now.  I know Kenny has been gone almost 20 years.  And here I set!

I know God has a purpose for me, but I am not at all sure what it is!  Covid has us so limited in our lives that my volunteer work is pretty much out the window and the church is closed more than it is open.  Every where I go I wear my protective gear, race home and wash my hands and face.  Pueblo County is now the hot spot for the virus.  I have had my vaccination and am ready for my booster next week and the numbers just keep climbing.

It saddens me to see how little regard the populace has for us old people.  When I do venture out it is usually to Lagreese and back.  I hurry in with my list in my hand and grab what I need and scurry back to the car and home to my sanctuary.  I used to meet a friend at Starbucks and have a Green Tea Frapaccino or Latte, but I now go through the drive thru alone.  Life is not the same as it was 2 years ago.  For Christmas last year I received a $100 Starbucks gift card from a dear friend .  I have used it once.

Life is just easier living in the past.  There is no present and the future looks like it is going to be Republicans and Democrats fighting over who can spend the most money and do the least good.  The other countries seem to be pulling it together and controlling the spread of this virus, but we are so busy fighting about whether your rights supercede mine or vice versa.  I just want to go to Kohls and buy a couple new towels and maybe a bra, but I am afraid to venture that far from home!  And is Kohls still out there?

As the road before me gets shorter, the road behind me looks better.  There was a time when we helped old ladies across the street and picked kittens up out of the gutter and took them home.  There was a time when we gathered in the park for birthdays and played volleyball!  There was a time when I got a mohawk hair cut and went to the Eastside Safeway and the "gang bangers" smiled at me and gave me a thumbs up.  Not now.  Safeway was torn down a couple years ago and I do not even know if Louie is still cutting hair because I never see his barber pole turning, but then again, I never get to town to check.  Once a month I pick up my prescription at Blende Drug.  The rest of the trips are one mile North to Lagreese and one mile South back home.  Church is on Sunday, but it is not always open.

I do have a job taking supper to a man in town 3 evenings a week and that is nice.  We play a game of checkers after he eats and then I hurry home to put the geese to bed.  The cat is always glad to see me, but even she is on her downward spiral!  And I have to be alert around her because she bites!

So it is almost 4:00 AM and I am on my second cup of coffee.  Whoopie!  I noticed yesterday that the tin shed has blown full of leaves so when the sun comes up I will go out and sweep them out into a pile and burn them.  I mean if the powers that be are allowing burning today.  If not I will sweep them out and let them pile up some where else.

Maybe I will make cinnamon rolls today.  Maybe I won't.  While I moan and groan about my lot in life you should know that it beats hell out of the alternative!  And remember this: You can not sprinkle showers of happiness on other people without getting a few drops on yourself!

I heard that line of crap some where!

I got a doorbell and installed it just in case someone came by and I did not hear them knock, but Janet came and she said she rang it and I never heard it!  $30 down the crapper on that one!

Closing of the season.

October is a sad month.  It does not start out as sad, but it ends on a very low note.  1965.  October 30.  Dona Marie turned 1 year old.  Sam was 26 days old.  Duane and I had been married 5 years.  My brother was in a bad car wreck in McPherson, Kansas.  We left the kids with Duane's sister in Jetmore and drove to McPherson hospital arriving about 1:00 AM.  

My mother was alone in the room.  My brother lay swaddled in bandages on a hospital bed that held him in a semi raised postition.  His right leg kicked  constantly.  Mother said they had gone though a stop sign and broadsided a loaded gravel truck.  She thought he was trying to hit the brake, although he was not the driver.  He was incoherent.  Mother was already planning in her mind how she would bring him home and she knew he would be an invalid, but that was her son and she would take care of him.  Jake was her only son.

His name was not Jake, it was Delbert Leroy Bartholomew.  He was born October 5, 1935.  He carried a scar on his right cheek that he got when he was about 9 years old because he snuck up behind a Shetland Pony and "goosed it".  Of course it reacted and kicked him.  What did the silly little shit think would happen?

 

He introduced me to my first husband.  After that we sort of drifted apart.  Distance had a lot to do with that as well as guilt that my husband was not the knight in shining armour that Jake had anticipated for me.  The fact that he fell in love a couple times and now had a son he needed to help raise and another on the way made the distance even greater.

 

I missed Dona's first birthday that year and my sister in law cared for my only son that was 26 days old.  To say I was devastated by his death would be an understatement.  He was so young and vibrant.  He had his whole life ahead of him and I needed him in mine.  But, God had other plans.  

And, that my friends, is what this is all about.  God has a plan for our lives.  I do not know what his plan for me was, and I may never figure it out.  I do know that the little girl above being held up by her sister and brother could have aspired to soaring heights, but fell short of the goal!  I look back and try to see just where I went wrong and it is a mystery to me.  I wanted to be a missionary and when that fell through I just pretty much drifted along with the tide.  So, in all fairness, I think maybe God just put me here in Colorado to kind of shake up the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. 

I have worked to get AIDS awareness to the forefront and what was a killer disease is now a manageable health condition.  

Gays are now accepted as a segment of the population.

I worked the Eleventh Hour in the Hospice program and helped many people smile as they crossed the bar and looked back before leaving this earth in a cloud of fairy dust to meet their saviour.

My children all seem to be successful in one way or another and are responsible citizens.

The important part of all of this is that as I mark this anniversary every year.  I will spend October 30 crying most of the day, but I will do it where no one sees.  I have a shoulder to lean on that even I can not see.  They say "seeing is beleiving," but that is not always true.  I have never seen God, but I do know that without him, I would not be here today. When I am happy he smiles with me.  We have even been known to laugh out loud.  When I cry he holds me.

So rest in peace, my dear brother.  Jake, Josephine, Dorothy, Mary, Mother, Dad, Grandma, Aunts, Uncles, friends, lovers, in-laws and outlaws.   click here