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!

Plevna, Kansas, class of 1959

I woke up at 2:30 this morning thinking about my classmates in Plevna, Kansas.  It was my Freshman year and I was living with Grandma Haas and Great Grandma Hatfield.  The high school was on one end of Main Street and Grandma's house was on the other end.  Main Street was 2 blocks long.  The High School, the bank and the filling station was on one side.  On  the other side was Hinshaw's Mercantile, the phone company and Grandma Hatfield's house.  The next house was Grandma Haas's house and then then church.  Great Grandma Hatfield's house was empty since she had moved next door to take care of Grandma Haas.

Great Grandma was a legend in her time.  She was born Helen Gagnebein.  She had married Frank Miller and had 3 children, Lou, Mable, and Grandma Josie.  When he passed she married a man named Hatfield who had a son named Steven.  I always liked Uncle Steven because he had a very round face and always seemed to be happy. Rumor had it that she was headed to the alter with #3 when he suddenly died.  She declared that she had buried 2 husband and the love of her life and was now done.   So she moved across the street to take care of her daughter, my grandmother.  All this has absolutely nothing to do with my Freshman year!

The point is that Grandma had suffered a stroke and could no longer live alone and take care of herself.  Great Grandma needed help and I was the chosen one.  Thus when I left Nickerson Grade School, I was thrown into High School at Plevna, Kansas.  As I recall there were 30 kids in the whole high school.  The Freshman class had like 8 or 9 kids.  When I was laying in bed before I started this missive I could remember 6 of them and clearly see their faces, but as soon as my fingers hit the keys, my brain went south.  I remember Norma Daily, Janet Pastier, the twins Dean and Dale Hinshaw and that is all.  Seems like there were 8 or 9.  I do remember the principal was named Mr. Miller.

They did have a girls basketball team, but I was not allowed to do that because it entailed wearing pants and neither of the grandma's approved of that!  So while the basketball season was on I played ping pong in a room above the stage in the auditorium.  I was not very good at that either.  Everyone brought their lunch except me and I had to run home and check to see if the grandma's needed anything.  Great Grandma would have an orange peeled for me.  When I left the school I could hear Great Grandma's old stand up radio blaring the noon market report.  While we had not farmed for years there were relation who did and the market report kept Great Grandma apprised of the price of wheat, cattle, corn and pork bellies.  I never really gave a shit, but it was important to them!  I would then dash back to school before the bell rang.

Now the most thriving business was the Hinshaw Mercantile.  Dean and Dale would some day fall heir to that!  They were twins, but you would never have guessed it.  Dale was the one who must have gotten to the table first because he was a pudgy, red hair and freckles, pale skinned, mean spirited creature (for want of a better description) fellow.  He never had a nice thing to say to anyone and I sincerely hope he grew out of that!  Dean was a skinny, tanned, dark haired little fellow with a very beautiful smile.  They were as different as night and day.  Needless to say, I thought often about how maybe someday, Dean might hold my hand.  (It never happened.)

The grandma's were united in their way of raising me. The only reading material allowed in the house was the Holy Bible.  No newspaper, no magazine except for the Workbasket which was a crochet magazine that was treasured beyond all else.  I was taught to crochet and that was my past time.  My Grandma Haas and her sister Mabel married brothers.  Aunt Mable would come for a visit from Coldwater, Kansas with her husband  Uncle Goll.  Once she brought her textile paints with the intent of teaching me how to do something besides crochet.  We went to the Hinshaw store and she bought me a white bath towel to paint a design on.  Sadly it was shop worn and the brown outline of where it had lain never faded, but I did paint a water lily on it and she made me feel like I was 10 feet tall.  Damn!  How I miss those days!  I gave the towel to my mother and you would have thought I had handed her the moon!  Things like that used to matter.

If I live to be 200 years old, I will always cherish the memories that were made in that little house there on the end of main street in Plevna, Kansas.  I will always remember the round oak table with the crocheted table cloth and the two grandma's I lived with for a time.  I learned to crochet by the light of a kerosene lamp because, though they had electricity, they did not use it very often because they did not want to wear it out!

I can still see the 2 little white heads bent over their needlework and how occasionally one would look up and smile at me.  They both had the most beautiful blue eyes in the world.  I have often wondered if I really was any help to them or if they were helping me.  I do know, if I were able to go back in time that I would not change one minute of my time spent in that house.  Well, maybe I would.  I would listen next time.  And when we read the Bible (which we did every night)  I would read an extra chapter.  Living with those two women was the best part of my whole entire life.  I just pray that they know what an impact they made on my life all those years ago.

Thank you God for the gift of Grandmothers.

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Holy shit! An attack mouse at grandma's house!

The grandma's both worried about me and mostly it was needless.  Life was pretty mundane there in Plevna.  Get up and eat breakfast.  Now you need to know it was pretty well ready the night before.  The egg poacher held 3 eggs.  The water was put in the poacher and the poacher was placed over the pilot light.  The eggs were in a bowl on the table.  The coffee pot was a drip o later and it was filled with water and the coffee grounds put in the basket.  Our plates were on the table with 1/2 of an orange on each one. The jelly was in the middle of the table.  The table was covered with a cloth.  While we slept the waters were staying warm over the pilot lights.  The next morning the poacher and the coffee pot were both pulled forward and the burners turned on.  The eggs were broken and placed in the 3 places for them to poach.

Now I can not remember just how that damn coffee pot worked, but it seems like the water somehow was vaccumed up into the upper chamber and then the burner was turned off and it slowly dripped through the grounds.  Bear in mind that all happened 60 years ago, so I am not real sure that my memory is completely accurate on this little detail.  I do know the toaster was set on the burner and the burner was real low and toasted the bread just right as long as you did not try to dash out to the outhouse while it was toasting.  The whole breakfast was on the table in short order.  We always prayed over our food.  Always!  Both grandmothers told me in no uncertain words that if I did not pray I would most likely choke to death!  I was not going to test that theory since I had what I hoped was a brilliant future ahead of me.  And here I am!

After breakfast was finished I was allowed to put all the dirty dishes in a pan under the sink to wash later.  They did not want me to be late for school because the principal would administer punishment in the form or a whipping with a rubber hose.  I never tested that theory either.  You may not believe this, but I was pretty much a model child and it was all because I did not want to be beat.  I was secure in the knowledge that when I dashed home for lunch great grandmother would have a sandwich ready for me.  That plate also went under the sink.  Now for the evening meal, I do not recall at all what we had.  I am sure we ate something, but I do not know what it was.  So after supper, I pulled the pan out and started washing the dishes.  Then I dried them and put them away and after I laid out the breakfast for the next morning I was free to do whatever I wanted to do.  Bear in mind there was no such thing as television.  The radio was for the market futures and I was not allowed to read anything but the Bible.  I could crochet, but I was still learning the basic chain stitch.

Now one chore I had which I did on Saturday morning was trash.  We did not generate much trash back in those days.  There was a trash thingy over by the door going into the front room.  That was emptied by grandmother into a wooden crate like barrel right outside the kitchen door on the enclosed back porch.  This particular Saturday, I picked it up and headed for the burning barrel which was located a safe distance from the outhouse.  I spotted the outhouse and decided I needed to use that facility at that moment.  So I set the barrel down, availed myself of the comforts and then started to pick up the container and finish my job.  I recoiled in terror because there was a mouse that had crawled up through the trash and was perched on top!  In my world a spider is the scariest creature on earth, but a mouse is a very close second.

What to do?!  My mind was in a quandary.  If I picked up the barrel the mouse might jump on me.  If I screamed, grandma would no doubt jump on me.  She was very old and I surely did not want to get her too excited.  I knew if I could just get the barrel to the burning barrel and tip it over the mouse would fall into the barrel and I would light the trash and my problems would be solved.  So I got a stick and threatened the mouse.  He was defiant! I whacked the side of the barrel and he fell into the trash out of sight.  I grabbed the barrel and made it a few feet closer to the burning barrel, but the mouse reared his head out of the trash.  I immediately dropped the barrel and it fell over.  Horror of all horrors, the damn mouse was now free to eat me or whatever he had planned.  I screamed in terror and grandma appeared on the porch.  That woman surveyed the scene, saw the mouse, stepped forward and whacked it with her cane.  My savior.  She turned and went back into the house leaving me to gather everything up and put it in the burning barrel.  The incident was never mentioned again.  That is how the pioneer women did it.  I like to think I am just a fraction of the woman my great grandmother Helen Gagnbein Miller Hatfield was.

I am still afraid of mice and I have a cat that brings them in and turns them loose.  I hate that damn cat, but she is the only friend I have now days.  I would like to say that since the dogs are no longer here that she has taken mercy on me and has not brought a mouse in for quite some time, but as sure as I say that she will know and go get me one.

I lay in bed at night and think about my grandma's.  If I could go back in time I would do things differently.  I would listen.  I would listen and I would remember.  And I would teach my kids about the stock we come from.  The chickens, the molasses great great grandpa made and the way my great great grandmother Gagnebein nursed the sick, delivered the babies and then came home and whipped out a lemon chiffon cake without even reading a recipe.

I would if I only could.

Aunt Lena

Woke up this morning with Aunt Lena on my mind.  Aunt Lena has been gone for many years, but she still resonates in my mind on a regular basis.  Aunt Lena was my Grandfather Haas's sister.  She was, and I must put this delicately, a "spinster lady who rented rooms to other spinster ladies who were school teachers." 
Back when the Haas family migrated through Ellis Island and settled in and around Abbyville, Kansas things were very different.  The patriarch of the family, Johann Jakob Haas, had already buried his first wife, Elizabeth Beck who bore him 7 children.  This was known as the "first family.  He then married the woman who took care of the first family, Dorathea  Schade and started another family.   This family consisted of 9 children, but one died an infant.  When plans were made to migrate, the two oldest girls, from the first family, boarded a steam ship and then a train to travel to Nickerson, Kansas to stay with their Beck relation who lived on the outskirts of Nickerson.  As a tiny girl, I remember going to the Beck house once.  That is all I remember.  I went to school with a boy named Ronnie Beck, who I am sure was a shirt tail relative.  I never dated in Nickerson because I was a distant cousin to everyone there one way or another and I just never wanted to do the incest thing!
But, I digress.  As a teenager I went to live with my grandmothers in Plevna, Kansas, and became well acquainted with my Aunt Lena.
That was when I learned why she had never married.  Seems back in the dating years. that Great Grandma Hatfield (nee Gagnibien), was at the time married to a man named Franklin Miller.  They had 3 children, Lou Miller and 2 girls, Mable and Josie.  Next farm over was the Haas family with lots of marriageable kids.  Mabel married Goll Haas.  Josie married Christoph Haas.  Uncle Goll was checking out Lena Haas when Great Grandma put her foot down and said her whole family was not going to turn into Haas family and so Uncle Lou and Aunt Lena said their goodbyes and he married a complete stranger.  Aunt Lena embrassed spinsterhood and moved into Plevna and starting renting rooms to school teachers.  Back in those days school teachers were predominately women and more often than not, single.
Aunt Lena always seemed tall.  She stood ramrod straight at all times and talked with her teeth clenched together.  Her teeth were always clenched.  I used to think she might have lock jaw, but I think that is just how she talked.  Expect there was a lot of "Keep that mouth shut!"  with a total of 16 kids running around and her being towards the end of the line they all bossed her! 
Aunt Lena always wore a dress.  Always.  Well, I can't say what she wore during harvest and before I knew her, but I am betting it was a dress.  But trust me, when she wanted to go wade in the creek, or chase a calf across the field, she knew how to modify her dress.  She would slam on the brakes in that old jalopy she drove and jump out of  the car.  "Come on, kids!"  She would spread her legs and reach back between her knees and catch the hem of the skirt in the back, pull it forward and up and tuck it in her waistband.  Instant culottes!  And she taught us the fine art!  She would put one foot on the bottom barbed wire and pull the wire above it up so us kids could crawl through with out ramming a barb in our back, usually.  Then off we would gallop across the field in quest of what ever Aunt Lena had seen.  Sometimes we ended up wading in a creek.  Sometimes we picked Sand Hill Plums.  Sometimes we just walked across the field and kicked clods. 
Aunt Lena kept a horse tank in her front yard.  In the summer it was always full of water and when we went to her house we could jump in and cool off.  The only item of clothing we removed was our shoes.  When we got out we just "dried out."  Kansas gets very hot in the summer and those little dips were always just what us kids needed. 
I remember the last time I seen Aunt Lena.  It must have been about 1992.  She was born in 1893.  She died in 1994. She would have been about 99 years old.  It was at the Auditorium in Plevna where I had gone to high school  The school was gone, but they used the auditorium for reunions and such.  I had a cousin of sorts, Earl Boyd who was at the time 88 and legally blind.  Had been for years.  He and Aunt Lena were talking and it went like this.
"Oh, Lena, I would love to see the old homestead, but I don't have a car."
"Oh, Earl, I have a car, but I can't drive."
"Well, you have a car!  I can drive us there.  It is just a couple miles and it is all dirt roads."
"But, Earl, you can't see!  How can you drive?"
"You can see, Lena!  You can tell me where to go."
"Do you think it would work Earl?"
"Sure!  Let's plan on doing that someday soon."
I don't think they ever made the trip, but it made me happy to know they wanted to.  I thought several times, after I returned to Colorado, that I should make the effort and make that happen for them, but I never did.  It was the procrastination thing that always trips me up. 
And now, I am the older generation.  Now, I am thinking I would like to make a trip back to the old home place and I keep putting it off.  Maybe some day.  For now, I will set here and remember.  I miss my mother.  I miss my husband.  My brother, sisters, uncles, aunts, grandparents and on and on and on.  I can see them all, just like they were.  Is that a sign of old age?  Senility?  Or just wishful thinking?
 

I know I showed you this, but...

I just want to point out some things of interest.  Like see that thing in the lower left hand corner?  Do you know what that is?  That is a sewing kit that sets on the cabinet or some where that it will be handy.  The whole thing is wooden and usually hand made.  The bird has a pair of scissors that makes up his head feathers and the blades are his beak.  Under the beak is various colored spools of thread.  In the center is a pincushion and in the pin cushion will be a needle.  I can walk in anyone's house now days and tell them I need to sew a button back on and I will be met with blank stares.  Needles and thread are just not the common items they were 50 or 60 years ago.
The couch they are setting on is a dark blue sort of plush fabric.  It is called an overstuffed divan.  The pattern etched in the fabric would have been some sort of leaf design or flower.  The walls are papered it is matched!  It is very neutral, because bold statements were not made in those days.  The pillows are of course, hand sewn, probably either by hand or on an old treadle.  I just don't remember the sewing machine at grandma's , but I am sure there was one there.
But the crème de la crème can be seen on the back of the couch between mother and grandma Haas.  See those white round things?  Those are crocheted sets that go on the back and arms of anything you set on.  These particular ones are made by first crocheting the round things.  They are made up of probably 85,000 tiny crochet stitches and probably in a size 20 thread.  Back in those days these were considered necessary.  If they were not on there the couch was "naked."  And trust me, it would have been more acceptable for me to cavort naked in the street as for that couch to not be finished with it's crocheted trimmings.  And the matching overstuffed chair would have a set that matched.  Heaven forbid that it looked any different.
And any table that was in any room would have a doily on it.  The center of the dining room table, a very large,heavy, round oak table had a big pineapple doily as the centerpiece.  It was about 2 feet across and the pineapple ruffles stood about a foot high.  When this was "soiled" it was washed and then "finished" by soaking it in a very heavy sugar water and then placed on a towel to dry.  The ruffles were pulled to full height as it dried and when it went back on the table it was perfect and looked like it had been ironed.
So that is it for this picture.  Oh, one more thing.  See how they are dressed?  Dresses, aprons, hose, shoes, the whole nine yards.  When those women came out of the bedroom this is how they looked.  They were dressed "for the day" and that was that.  You might catch me in my jammies at about any hour before 10, but not them.  I do not think I ever saw grandma in her night gown any time except when I put he in it at night and took it off in the morning.
So much for the grandma's for today.

(I know there are some of you out there who read this blog as a means of keeping up with family history.  You should know that I have my blog converted into a pdf. file  regularly and if you would like I can send it to you as an attachment.  I have not done it for this year, but just let me know if you want one and I will make sure you get it when it is ready.)









 

This is friggin' unbelievable!

Do you see this picture?  Of course you do.  I was bringing my big Philedenron in and happened to wonder what I kept in the trunk it sets on, so I opened it up and riffled through the papers inside.  There was a plastic bag which contains a "Slip and Slide" Plastic thing that fits on an iron to make ironing of clothes easier.  It appeared to have my sister Josephine's handwritting on the outside.  Inside was the thing for the iron along with this picture.  This is 5 generations.  Well, it was at the time. 

Since Mary Jo was born in 1951, this picture had to have been taken in 1952.  That is 60 years ago!  The lady in the upper right corner is my great grandmother, Helen Hatfield.  She is a history lesson in herself.  She was born November 22, 1861 in Madison County, Illinois.  I have diaries that show her younger years in Abbyville, Kansas.  Her mother was Julie Calame and her father was James Gottlieb Gagnebin.  He was born  July 13, 1830 in Geneva, Switzerland.  Apparently they migrated to the Abbyville, Kansas area, because he was a farmer and raised sorghum for molasses and geese and turkeys for meat.  He hired the brothers out to farms in that area, but here is the best part: my great, great grandmother Julie was a nurse/doctor/midwife of sorts.  When someone was sick they sent for her and she would leave the family and go to the home where she was needed.  I can see a lot of her in my way of life. Great gandmother died in 1964.

The next lady is Josie Haas. She is the daughter of Helen Gagnebin.  She was born Josephine Miller on January 8, 1881 in Nevada, Missouri.  She married Christoph Haas and begat my mother along with 3 brothers and a sister.  Grandmother died prior to 1964 because Great Grandmother took care of her until her death.  Than she moved to Coldwater, Kansas and lived with Aunt Mabel until she passed in 1964.  Mother is there on the left end of the top row.  Can you imagine the history in the picture?  I am going to elaborate on these women in the next couple weeks. 

Then down on the bottom is my sister Josephine and her daughter Mary Jo.  Mary is the only one left in that picture.  I am so happy I found that!  Also in the same trunk is a picture of my brother when he was in about the 6th grade.  And that is not all, there is a picture of him as a grown man.  I had been lamenting that I had no pictures of him as a grown man and up pops this picture.  I did not even know it existed.  So my work is cut out for me!  I shall regale you with memories from now until Thanksgiving.  I just love to relive the past, so stay tuned!

 

 

************************************************************************ This is the novel I have for sale on Amazon. Do not be confused by the title. Chapter One simply means this is my first book. There may never be another, or there may be many more. I am very proud of this endeavor and guarantee you will enjoy the book in it's enirety. Lou Mercer

From the back cover

Chapter One...Loose Ends
Lou Mercer

Meg Parker led a simple life.  She was a widow of three years and lived on a chicken farm at the foot of the mighty Rockie Mountains.  Life was good and her little store on eBay made her extra spending money.  But snow and wildlife were not the only things lurking in the forest above her house.  Nor did it stay in the forest for long.

Marshall Purcell came home a wounded veteran from vietnam.  He still had his dreams, but they were of an incestuous past that threatened to consume him.

When Meg and Marshall met it seemed an inconsequential meeting, but it changed both their lives forever.  And change is not always a good thing.

This is adult fiction at its best without all the sex.  Well, maybe just a little bit. 

About the author.  Lou Mercer was born in Nickerson, Kansas. She came to Pueblo, Colorado in 1977 and is now a product of the majestic Rockie Mountains

The roots of my raisin' run deep!

This is the top shelf of my computer desk.  I managed to click this photo while Icarus, the devil cat, was on break.  Starting with the big picture in back on the left is Mother.  Then Uncle Charlie, Uncle Frank, Uncle Ray, and Aunt Lola on the end.  This is probably the last picture of all of them together.  This is actually the only picture I know of that has all the 5 in a group.  And now that I think about it, I do not know if there is a formal picture like this of my siblings.  There is a picture somewhere of us 5 girls, but Jake was not in it.  So it would not have been complete.  And we were setting in the kitchen of Dorothy's house when she was married to Ernie and they lived out o 4th Street in Hutchinson.  Course Jake and Josephine are no longer with us so a picture is completely out of the question.
I will tell you about the other pictures and then come back and tell you about my Aunt and Uncles.  The small picture on the left is mom and dad, before they were mom and dad.  You know, back when they were Christine and Rueben Bartholomew.  This is their wedding snapshot, I think.  The picture on the right is mother's high school yearbook picture.  And of course the little angel in the back would be me!  That frame is now 69 years old.  I should sell it on eBay, but I want to keep it, so I will.  I always get what I want!
Now to the family picture.  Most of you probably knew mother, but doubted the existence of any other relatives.  The first is Uncle Charlie Haas.  He was married to Aunt Edith and they lived in Missouri.  Independence, I think.  They had one daughter, Donna.  Donna was not well and could never live on her own.  One year when I lived with Grandma Haas and Great Grandma Hatfield, Uncle Charlie and Aunt Edith sent me a birthday card with a Silver Dollar in it with my birth year.  I damn near broke both legs getting to the general store and getting rid of that money.  Most money I ever had at one time in my life!  At one point Uncle Charlie bought land in Woodland Park, Colorado, and built a new house.  Unfortuneatly he could not live in the high altitude due to his high blood pressure and had to sell it.  Mother and I tried to find it once from his description, but had no luck.  Uncle Charlie died first, then Aunt Edith.  Donna spent her remaining days in a nursing home and passed about 5 years ago.
Uncle Frank married Aunt Lila and lived in Lawrence, Kansas for the duration.  He was a farmer and she was a school teacher.  They had no children.  I was always scared to death of Aunt Lila.  I do not know if it was because she was a teacher, or she just looked very intimidating to poor little me.  When they retired they bought a home on 30th street in Hutchinson, Kansas.  He worked on the old tube type radios and had an extensive collection.  When they could no longer function at home they moved to assisted living in McPherson where they lived until he died and then her.  Mom and I used to go visit and it was so sad.  Uncle Frank was very hard of hearing and had dementia towards the end. The last time we were there he was setting at the desk tearing magazine pages into one inch squares and piling them very neatly.  He smiled at mother with the sweetest smile I have ever seen on a living human being.  He asked her what her name was and she replied "Christine."  His eyes lit up and he said, "Oh, I used to have a sister named Christine!"  At this mother lit up also.  "Why Frank!  It is me!"  He looked at her and you could see the wheels turn and he added. "Oh, no, she died a long time ago."  Of course mother was crushed.  Uncle died soon after that visit.  He was 90 something.
Uncle Ray was the most wonderful man in the world and I shall not try to tell you about him in this post, but will save him for a special time.
The lady on the end was Aunt Lola.  Aunt Lola was married to Alvin Farney and they lived near Plevna, Kansas and of course, were farmers.  They had one son, Carl, and 3 daughters, Alvina, Rosetta, and Marilyn. Marilyn had a very high fever when she was about a year old.  It did brain damage and disfigured her face.  But she was a wonderful girl and helped Aunt Lola keep house and cook.  Aunt Lola died younger than most of her brothers.  See, in our family we live to be 100 years old with amazing regularity.  Good genes and all.  Mom was 80 and that was very young.  So, the kids of Aunt Lola are my cousins and the only ones I actually know/knew.  I am afraid I did not keep up with them.  I do know Alvina and Rosetta married and had children.  Josephine used to keep me up on that stuff, but alas, no more.
When mother used to tell me tales and the grandmother and great grandmother would remember the good old days, I did not listen.  In one ear and out the other, so to speak.  So now here I set and have no clue.  We do have a genealogy book that traces our family roots back to Germany to the 1500's.  I love to read the stories and am absolutely fascinated by what those pioneers went through to bring this squalling little brat into the world.  Stop and think.  If one thing had been different, I would not be here.  It is all in the grand scheme of things.  Everything that transpired all those years ago led to this day and this hour.
Think about it.  My roots run very deep, but they are no different than your roots!  Have a good one!

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Woke up this morning, Nickerson on my mind.

That should be a country western song!  Woke up this morning, you were on my mind.  Forget who sang that, but this morning I woke up remembering when I was a little girl in Nickerson, Kansas and for some reason I was remembering the layout of the school and the lunch room.  Lunch room?  Who am I kidding?  The school was a red brick which was 2 stories tall.  There were 4 double doors to get into the school; two in front and two in back.  Face the school and on your left was the main entrance.

Well, here I made a little sketch of it.  It is not drawn to scale, but let me tell you, on top is the bottom floor.  See you come in the main entrance which is the upper left corner.  On your right is the first grade room.  I remember the alphabet marching above the black board.  But that is not why we are here.  See that hallway running down the middle?  See that table and those benches?  That was the lunch room.  At the end of the hall was the kitchen, restrooms and janitor.  Here was the heart of the school as far as I could tell!
Now this is what I looked like back then.  This is actually my mother, but even today I could pass for her.  Look at those shoes!   Button ups!  I wore brown Buster Browns.  Remember that ad?  "Arf!" then "That's my dog Tide.  He lives in a shoe.  I'm Buster Brown, look for me in there too!"  They came in two colors.  Black and Brown.  I mean you could get a pair of Black shoes or a pair of brown shoes.  In later years they introduced white and then combined white with them and the Saddle Oxford was born!  That is a whole nuther story.

Ah, the kitchen!  When we arrived at school the ladies were all ready at work cooking.  Mrs. Ritchie was the cook and her brother-in-law, Mr. Ritchie was the janitor.  I think that was right.  In later years, I think he committed suicide.  I recall her as a short, kind of heavy, very sweet lady.  He was always very kind.  Anyway, at the appointed time the kids were allowed to file past the end of the table and pick up their plates and a carton of milk.  (I think it was actually still in glass bottles at that time.)  That was if you could afford the meals.  If not you took your lunch sack, pail, or box and set at the far end of the table.  Seems like the far end was always more populated than the hot meal kids. Although I remember eating hot meals there, so it must have happened a  time or two any way.  I know I carried my lunch in a paper bag which I must be sure to bring home.  Do not remember what I ate, but I do remember that meat was a rarity and peanut butter was a real treat!  And bread was a nickle a loaf!  (I also remember being very jealous of the kids who had the fancy tin lunch boxes.  And today they sell on eBay like gold!)
And another thing, showing that the government was always taking care of us was that once a month, in the middle of the morning, we were sent down to the tables where we were given a paper cup full of orange juice.  This was given to us so we got out vitamin c and did not develop Rickets or some such incurable disease.  I am sure that the one glass of orange juice once a month was the only thing standing between me and being dead today!  But it sure was good orange juice, and the only time we ever had it!
Now a lunch room is a far different thing.  No way would kids be allowed to eat in the hallway.  I know when they were building the new grade school in Nickerson, one of the selling factors was that it would have a lunch room!  Course it was built after I left grade school, so I never got to see it.
Another thing that stands out in my mind is the music room.  It was at the head of the stairs and very small.  There were shades on the windows that were designed to block out light or to keep light from escaping.  This was in case the Germans or Japanese or  some one came and bombed us.  I do not think we ever used them, but you just never knew back then what might transpire.  Early in my school days, the district purchased an older frame school building and moved it to the property and it became our new Music Room.  When it was time for music we marched single file out the door, across the school yard (being careful to stay on the side walk so as not to step on any of the weeds.), and into the music building, which was very big and very airy and we loved it.  Miss Barkiss was our teacher and some years later she would marry David Houston, son of the principal of our school.  That is all I know about that!
I do remember the last day of school was always cause for celebration.  We would be full of anticipation for the coming summer, but we would be sad because we would not see our friends.  Seems people did not visit then like they do now.  Oh I would walk over to my best friend, Barbara Hawk's house and we would play, but that was a long ways over there and when I left she would walk me half way home.  But school ending was always a big deal.  We may have had a picnic!  I think we did!  And the band would play and we would listen. And my eighth grade year which was my last, a bird flew over and pooped right on Gay as she played her Clarinet and she did not even wince, just kept right on playing!  Always admired her for that though I never told her so.
I often wonder about my teachers. Miss Donough  was first grade and she married a guy I think was named Breece in the middle of the year.  Mrs. Wait was second grade, Miss Holmes was third,  Mrs. Howe was fourth.  (She got a thorn in her intestine and almost died.)  Miss Swenson was 5th, Miss Lauver was sixth, Mr. Bollinger was 7th and Mr. Schriber was 8th.  At least that is how it goes in my mind.  Nobody ever quit.  Nobody ever got fired.  Nobody ever molested anybody and as far as I know they are still all there in Nickerson, Kansas where I left them.  Mr. Bollinger owned the movie theater and tickets were 7 cents.  It was open on Friday night and Saturday afternoon.
When I was in 4th grade Aunt Helen came and enrolled me in Brownies, which was the precursor to Girl Scouts.  Bought me a brownie dress and hat.  She was very rich and had no kids.  Her brother was Frank Wocknitz who made bologna named "Tony's Bologna" and it was the only kind we ever ate and was carried by both grocery stores.  Lord only knew what was in that other bologna.  And when he died, that was the end of the business cause he took the recipe to the grave.
Well, I could gas all day long here, but I need to get busy.  The memory is a wonderful thing.  I am sure mine is accurate.  But if it isn't one of two things will happen; either someone will email me with their memory or they will say, " Oh, I had forgotten that!  I am so glad she remembered!"  But if there is anyone out there who remembers my good old days, and me, give me a holler.  We will have a great visit, if we remember why we came.

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

I look at this picture and I can see a lot of myself in it.  Our teeth were identical; the same smile lines.  We both have the blue/gray eyes that change from one color to the other depending on what we are wearing and our mood.  My cheek bones are higher than hers.  We both had auburn hair.  In later years her's was completely silver.  Mine is still salt and pepper.

Mother worked hard all of her life.  I never knew a time when her hands were not busy.  I guess the first recollections I have of mom and dad were when we lived on the Alemore place in Nickerson.  It must have been located about a mile Southeast of town.  I had not started school yet.  We lived in a 2 bedroom shack with a kitchen and front room.  I call it a shack because it was not painted, not insulated, no electric, the water was in a pump out the back door.  Sister Josephine was in charge of us little kids while mom worked in town cleaning houses for the rich ladies. 

Now I am sorry to tell you this, because I know her kids read this sometimes, but my sister Joanne, as we called her, was very mean.  I recall once when my brother Jake and I walked up to Bull Creek and caught the biggest bull frog you ever seen.  I put it in my dress tail and ran home to show her so she would give me a box to put it in.  Well when I opened my dress tail that damn frog leaped out right in the front room.  She went ballistic and started beating me with the broom.  "You catch that damn thing and get it out of here!  Hurry up!  Hurry up before it pees on my clean floor!"

Well, I do not work well under pressure and crawling around under beds trying to catch that jumping frog was definitely not something I was good at.  But she solved the problem by whacking it with the broom and then beating it to death there in the middle of the bedroom.  And guess who had the honor of cleaning up that mess?  Thirty minutes later my beloved frog was in the field out back and the floor was once more spotless.  She did not know that Jake and I buried the frog and I cried.  Seems like I spent most of my childhood in tears over one silly thing or another.  Jake was always my friend.

Up the road from us was the Rumble's house.  They were an old couple who always waved at me when I went by and sometimes I stopped.  He taught me the words to Buttons and Bows  and when I sang it alone the first time he gave me a shiny dime!  Back in those days a dime was a lot of money.  I lost it and that was that.  Across the road lived the Barthold sisters who were school teachers.  They had a forest behind their house and Jake and I used to crawl through the underbrush when they were in the back yard having tea and spy on them.  Damn!  That was exciting!

Back in those days we had phones and we were all on party lines.  The way you used the phone was pick up the earpiece and then crank the handle on the side for what ever the person you were calling's ring was.  That is if they were on your party line.  Other wise you cranked a long ring and got the operator, Mrs. Humphrey.  We were fond of picking up the ear piece and cranking in someone's ear who was talking on the phone.  Got a lot of lickings over that little trick.

My dad liked to drink in his younger days.  One year he was going to the fair in Hutch and mom made him take all of us.  Well, as soon as we hit the fairgrounds he found the beer tent.  He lined the three of us up on a bench ( little kids had to stay home) and told us to stay there for a little bit.  Hours later he bought us each an ice cream cone before he went back in to have "just one more and then we will go home."  As I recall that ice cream it seems like it was probably pineapple sherbert.  It was not good.  I was hot and tired and kept falling asleep, but we were all three scared to move cause where could we go?  Let me tell you, see that sweet little woman up there?  She damned near ripped that man's head off his body when we arrived home and she found out we had spent the whole day on a bench while he drank.  I actually think that was the end of his drinking days!

Our stay at the Ailmore house ended when a tornado (but they called it a cyclone for some reason) hit and blew everything away except the house and the big cottonwood tree at the end of the drive.  But what does any of this have to do with my mother?  I will tell you.  That period of our lives was spent in abject poverty.  That was the period of time when I learned, although I would not realize it for many years, what a real woman must do to survive with her children.  My mother had a will of iron and a spine of steel.  She went without so us kids could eat.  She worked all day and mended our clothes at night.  She foraged and canned food for the winter.  She could wring the neck on a chicken and have it plucked and in the pot with out ever losing the ethereal quality that shone from her eyes. 

There is a passage in the Bible that tells about my mother.  It is the one that says "Her husband shall call her blessed and her children shall adore her.  She shall rise up early in the morning."  That was my mother.  If I could be a fraction of the woman she and my grandmother were I would die a happy woman. 

I recall the very last time I saw my mother.  I had gone for my usual 5 day visit and when I left she was having some problems.  I remember looking into her eyes and seeing the my soul reflected back at me.  I recall thinking "I will never see my mother alive again."  And I was right.  I talked to her every Sunday at noon.  I always called her at that time so she would not be confused about whether I had called or not.  We would talk for about an hour about everything under the sun.  I rarely told her my problems, and she was always fine. 

As I begin to face my mortality it is the memory of those blue/grey eyes that makes death almost a welcome relief.  It is her down to earth common sense that has helped me over the hills and through the valleys of life.  I could fill a book with things my mother taught me, and never cover all the lessons.  So, I say this to you....If you have a mother cherish her.  If you don't then learn to cherish life, because some where some one gave life to you.  God did not put us on this earth to just take what it gives, he put us here to prepare it for those who follow behind us.  I hope I am doing that in some small way.  As I transition from Louella Bartholomew to Lou Mercer and back to Louella Bartholomew, I have remembered all you taught me.

And so,  Good night, dear Momma, you did a wonderful job and I will be there one of these days, so watch for me!

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

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

 

Friday, September 25, 2009

My Mother

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

Rueben Floyd Bartholomew

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

Mother had a daughter from her previous marriage who was barely a year old. My brother Jake was born on October 5, 1937.  He was killed in a car crash on October 31, 1965.  I was born on October 1, 1941  and I am not allowed to say when the other three sisters were born.  They are vain little things.  However, as matriarch of the family I am proud to be my age.  (Oh, do the math for crying out loud!  I am 70 this year.)  I never knew my dad as a young man since he was 23 years older then my mother.  I do know that when we lived in Nickerson, Kansas he farmed.  He always had horses and always a matched team. 

He share cropped with a man named John Britain.  His wifes name was Salina and they had a daughter and as I recall her name was Mary Ella.  I thought that was nice as it kind of matched with sister Mary and my Louella.  John Britain had been a carpenter and back in those days he held his nails in his mouth as opposed to an apron.  As  a result he had cancer of the jaw and had part of his face removed.  Guess it is kind of funny what sticks in a young kids mind, huh?

I also remember that John Britain would pick dad up and sometimes I could go.  John had a shack on his land which was located South(?) of the Arkansas River in Nickerson, Kansas.  I also remember he had a stove to heat water and he would put cocoa and sugar in a cup and then fill it about half with boiling water.  The rest he filled with canned milk.  That was hot cocoa.  The elixir of the Gods!!  Best stuff in the whole world to this barefooted ragamuffin.  Now I must tell you that since those days I have tried many times to make the same hot cocoa and failed miserably!  Why that stuff would "gag a maggot off a gut wagon!"  (Kenny used to say that, so blame him for that.)

I have since decided that I grew up in the post depression and World War II years and things were sure different then.  When I talk about the "good old days"  I am talking about abject poverty and a time when the wolf at the door was a very real thing.  When meat on the table was the exception rather than the rule.  When Carp and fried apples was standard fare and an egg was best saved for the hen to set on and hatch.  When a wonderful, beautiful Christmas was finding a coloring book and a red ball and an orange all for me under the tree my big brother had drug home from the school room the day before.  Back when a feast was prepared because many people brought a dish and we all shared.  Or Momma got tired of that old Rooster being mean and lopped off his head and he was soup de jour!

After the busy season is over here in my little corner of the world, I am going to drag out the pictures of days gone by and scan them and let you meet my brother, sisters and the old cemetary where most of them are.  Until then, I have my memories and a driving need to make Lotion, Body Butter and print out the Inventory List for the Weaving Sale.  But at night I can walk the furrowed fields of my mind and make notes on how to best present the days gone by.

Today is the first day of the rest of your life!  Better days ahead.

So I was watching television tonight and I flashed on this....

I rarely watch television, but tonight after Jeopardy! was over I found myself watching one of those mindless sitcoms.  I do not remember what it was and I am sure it had nothing to do with my mind wandering back to Plevna, Kansas.  I went to live with my grandma Haas and Great Grandma Hatfield when I was 15 years old.  Grandma Haas had suffered a stroke at some point in time and was not able to get around very well.  She was only 72 at the time (as I recall).  Great Grandma was 99 and taking care of her.  It was getting to be a strain on her and I was young so I could be of some use to them.  It was a learning experience for the three of us. 

First thing I learned was that Great Grandma had been married 3 times or almost 3 times.  The first husband was Frank Miller.  He was father to her three children; Louis, Mabel and Josie.  Josie was my Grandma.  After he passed she married a man whose last name was Hatfield.  He had a son named Steven who had a wife named Bertie and a stepson and step daughter.  When he died Steven remained devoted to Great Grandma who he called mother.  When Great Grandma was 75 years old she became engaged to another man whose name I do not recall.  Sadly , he croaked before they could get the knot tied and Great Grandma just gave it up.  Said she had buried enough men and would not bury another one.  She then sold her house on the Main Street of Plevna, Kansas and moved in with Grandma.  Grandma had been widowed several years before.

In typical fashion they became quite adept at surviving alone.  By the time I arrived on the scene they were very ensconced in routine.  The table was set at night before bed.  We each had a plate, fork, knife, coffee cup, and half an orange.  This was covered with a cloth.  The coffee pot was a drip-a-lator which was filled with water ,  coffee grounds placed in the middle part, and the unit set on a pilot light on the stove.  The egg poacher was filled with water and set on the other pilot light.  The toaster was set on a back burner.  I should note here that toasters in that time period were used over a burner, not like today when they pop right up.  Had to be careful or you could char the bread very easily.  The next morning the coffee pot was pulled forward and the burner lit.  Same with the egg poacher.  Bread was put in the toaster and that burner lit.  In less than 7 minutes, during which time we ate our half an orange, breakfast was ready.  One slice of toast, one poached egg, and a cup of coffee with heavy cream.  Course there was home made jelly or jam and bread and butter pickles.  And don't forget the freshly churned butter.

After breakfast I was allowed to pile the dishes in the dish pan and cover them with a tea towel because I had to hurry off to school.  The way the dishes were done was this; When I got home from school, I would put the tea kettle on and heat water which I poured in the dish pan.  Then I refilled the tea kettle to heat the water to rinse them.  No hot water heater in this house.  Oh, and yes, we had an "out house" for our personal use.  Uncle Ray had installed a "commode" for Grandma's use, but we did not want to take the chance of wearing it out so we did our business outside.  Kind of nice one with a concrete floor and all.  When I came home at noon for lunch Great Grandma always had a sandwich waiting for me.  She also had the market report on the radio.  Not that we farmed, but old habits die hard.  Those dishes went in the pan with the breakfast dishes.

After dishes were done it was time to water plants and such.  We did not listen to the radio at night.  One of us would read from the Bible while the other 2 crocheted.  I learned the fine art of handiwork from my Great Grandmother.  She was one of the most beautiful women I have ever known.  I mean inside.  She was a very regal woman and she seemed very tall to me, but course I was only 5 feet so every body seemed tall.  Grandma and Aunt Mabel had married brothers.  Josie married Frank Haas and he was my Grandpa.  Aunt Mabel married his brother Gottlieb Haas.  Uncle Louis had cast eyes on the sister, Lena Haas, but Great Grandma put her foot down on that one.  So Uncle Lou married Aunt Eva  and Aunt Lena was a spinster her whole life.  But she was a fun old gal.  She was the one that kept a horse tank full of water for us to play in on hot days and took us to the stock pond seining for minnows with our skirts.  She died when she was 100 years old.  Haas  and Gagnebein blood is strong genes.  My Grandma was 73 when she died and that was so sad because she was so young.  Great Grandma Hatfield was 104.  Uncle Goll was 98.  Uncle Ray was 96. I am not sure, but there may be some of them still alive.  They just seem to live forever.

But what I was thinking of tonight was the piece of furniture that was behind the stove.  It was not a couch.  It was like a couch except it was oak and very dark brown leather.  It was not for comfort.  It was functional.  So was the library table.  And the Hoosier in the kitchen.  It held sugar, flour, had a top that pulled out and you could stand right there in one place and make a pie.  Now I have oak cupboards and shelves that slide out.  I have two freezers.  I have hot and cold running water.  I have all the conveniences that these two women did not even know existed.  It was a two story house.  The 2 Grandma's slept in the front bedroom.  I slept on the couch.  There were two bedrooms upstairs, but they were afraid to have me away from them.  Some times I resented that cause that was one lumpy damn couch.  But looking back, and believe me, hindsight is always clearer then fore sight, I was the most blessed 15 year old girl on the face of this earth, because those two women loved me.  They taught me needlework that has won me many ribbons at the State Fairs.  And they taught me that life goes on without a television, or radio, or trash novels.  The one book we do need is the Bible and I never touch my Bible without thinking of the two women in my life who instilled in me my love for the Book.  One was the Matriarch and the other the sweetest little lady I have ever known.  And in the picture there Great Grandma is holding Grandma up to have her picture taken.  that is something the women in my family have always done, been there to hold each other up.  I sure hope I do not disappoint my kids and sisters.  I am going to try not to.  

Let's just give some thought to this circle of life thing here>

It is a stretch to see how that tiny little happy baby over there on left, turned into this old woman here on the right.  No one is more stunned by that transformation then I  am.  That little baby there is pure and innocent and knows nothing at all about the causes this woman holds dear.  But if you stop and think, my mother was once a tiny baby like that.  All I remember was when I was little life was so easy. I never had to worry about a place to live or food to eat or being warm or anything.  All my decisions were made for me.  I did not even have to wear shoes and clothes were just something we put on because we were supposed to do that.

Then my sister got married and then my brother joined the Army and I started high school and I figured out there were boys.  But the most fun was finding cigarettes!  Thanks for that LaVeta!  Oh, and the Home Brew.  You kids today missed all the good stuff! 

"I belong to the Beat Generation.  Ain't nothin' troublin' my mind.  I belong to the Beat Generation, and everything's goin' just fine!"

Do not remember what that was about, but it rears it's little head sometimes in my memory.  I knew there were drugs out there and I knew the names of them at the time, but alcohol was my drug of choice along with Pall Mall cigarettes.  And can only thank God that he kept me away from the drug scene.  Sure was not any good sense on my part, I just was not interested.  This was all at Nickerson High School.  We later moved to Hutchinson in my senior year and that was the end of my formal schooling.  Take a lonely little country girl and throw her into the mainstream of a big city school and you will lose her every time.  And so it happened with Louella Bartholomew.

And so life went on pretty much without me.  I fell in love, I got married, I had 4 babies in 4 years, I took a 4 year break and had another one.  I divorced, I married, I worked, divorced, married until that one sounded like a broken record.  And then one day I realized that my kids that had been the whole reason for living and working were now marrying, leaving and having babies of their own.  I was a grandma.

And now those babies are having babies and I am a great grandmother.  There is a very good chance that I will be a great, great grandmother before I get out of this mess.  There was a point in my life that I dreaded growing old.  A time when I thought it could not happen to me.  You know what I mean?  Well, I have to be honest here and tell it like it is.  Vini, Vidi, Vici!  I did that!  I can not think of anything in this world that I wanted to do that I did not do.  

I ran away, and I came back.  I have ridden motorcycles,  and drag raced after midnight.  I have ridden horses that no one knew about.  I have fished and hunted, hiked and boated.  I have loved and laughed and had my heart broken more then once, but I got what I gave.  I have been rich and I have been poor.  I have held a newborn baby kitten and held people as they died.  I have heard angel wings when a soul leaves the body, but only once. 

When I was young, I had the fire in my belly, but now I have the fire in my soul.  And I guess that is how the circle of life goes.  Someday I will need to set by the fire and nod as the kids take care of me.  I was once the carefree little girl and then my children were and now it is their children.  And that dear people is the circle of life as I know it.  When I was that tiny baby up there, my great grandmother was the Matriarch of the family, and now, alas, it is me.  I always thought the Matriarch was to be revered and respected, but now I find myself in the postition of being Matriarch and I find it is just a word I am not sure I spell correctly.  I am the same person I was before someone died and left me in charge.  I am still confused by the events of my life and am in no way able to advise anyone else.

So here is the deal; we are born, we grow up.  Some of us have kids some of us don't.  Some of us are happy, some are not.  Some of us are rich and succesful and some of us are not.  It all boils down to this, we all put our britches on one leg at a time. We all love some body at some point and when it is all said and done we are a light that gets put out.  I like to think that I am important and that I have made a difference.  This is what I know; when my light goes out, some will mourn for a time, but life goes on as it will.  Some one else will look in the mirror and say, "Oh dear, this leaves me as the Matriarch!"

That, my friends, is the Circle of Life!

It is me and my momma!!

Do you see those 2 youngsters up there?  The one on the left is me and the one on the right is my momma.  Course I am a lot younger there and from the way I am propped up on the pillows I appear to be about 7 or 8 months old.  But just look at that smile!  I was pretty happy about something.  Probably had just been fed and was nice and dry! This picture is in a silver frame that is absolutely beautiful so I am sure my momma loved me when she stuck me in there all those years ago.

Now take a look at momma!  I bet she is about 4 or 5.  Got her a puppy and is one happy little girl!  I think she might be setting on the porch of whatever general store they lived close to. I imagine it was in Plevna or perhaps Abbyville.  I do love those leggings and boots!  Wish I could get me a pair of them right now!!

I have a picture in my store on eBay of a girl herding a flock of geese and I swear it could be my mother.  Has the same leggings and boots, but has a head scarf on her head.  Remember those?  Well, most of you probably don't!

So I am going to take these two pictures out of the bottom of that box and put them here on the computer desk so I can just glance over there and remember my roots.  That way when I get to thinking I am nobody important I can remember that it was women like my momma and her momma and grandmother that made this country what it is today.  I still got those same genes pulsing through my body and through my children's blood.

So I will go out singing

"I am woman, hear me roar, in numbers to big to ignore!"