Wrong day yesterday, today is October 29.

Yesterday I started to do this blog and my little mind wandered and I think I wound up chasing the cow down the ditch bank.  This is my older brother.  He is about in about the eighth grade in this picture.  I think that because back in those days, it had to be a special occasion to have our picture taken.  Those were few and far between and usually marked a very big event in our life.  See that scar on his cheek?  Today I will tell you how he got that.
Like I told you yesterday, we were living on the Stroh place right outside of town.  One day Dad went to the sale and came home with a Shetland Pony.  Oh, we were in seventh heaven.  We had our own horse.  Now why we needed a horse is more than Mother could fathom.  Years later as I put the pieces together I came to the conclusion that Dad was probably drunk and meant to buy a milk cow since ours had died.  In his befuddled mind he decided that we would get more use out of a pony then a cow any way.  The mere facts were that my father did not know he had children most of the time and while he did provide for us, the pipe and slippers and kiddies on his knee were not pictures I recall of my childhood. Back in those days, men were not "soft" like they are today and I was not the first nor the last kid in those days to only feel my fathers hand in anger, never love.  More about my father in a different blog, when I can deal with it fully.
But all that aside, a horse it was.  I remember seeing it unloaded in the moonlight.  It was the most beautiful horse I had ever seen and coming down the ramp from the trailer it looked very tall.  Daylight would bring many surprises.  I could barely sleep that night as Jake and I talked into the night about the wonderful horse our wonderful father had brought us.  From sounds drifting into our sleeping area we gathered that Mother was not near as happy as we were.
Morning found us gazing into pen where the horse was.  He was spotted and not very tall.  He had a long mane and it was spotted too.  There was a sort of star looking spot on his forehead so we named him "Star."  He came with his own saddle and blanket, but we were not allowed to saddle him or ride him until Dad was there to show us how.  We had never been this close to a horseso the chances we could saddle it up and ride away were very slim.  Unfortuneately Dad was not feeling well that day, so we only got to stare at the horse through the fence.  I think that we thought if we looked at Star long enough he would grow taller.  Ever see a Shetland pony?  They are by nature much smaller than the big ones we watched Dad work with.  See, my Dad was one of the last men in the area to give up the "team of horses" and go to a tractor, but more about that later.  This is about Jake and his scar.
Mom and Dad played cards once a week with friends and that evening the friends came and brought there kids and we were left to our own devices.  Of course we wanted to show off our new horse, so we gathered at the corral.  I do not remember the exact chain of events, but I do recall the chaos that followed.  Jake was always curious and tonight and the showing off for the kids was no exception.  I remember the kids all screaming and Jake holding his face as blood squirted every where from his right cheek.  Very quickly Mother and Jake were loaded in the back seat of the car and the couple visiting whisk them off the 11 miles to Hutchinson and the nearest medical attention. 
I do remember being so afraid that Jake would die.  We were sent to our beds and the visiting children were made pallets in the front room.  I surely drifted off, because some time in the night Jake woke me up to show me his bandaged face.  I cried.  He had been such a handsome boy and now he had this horrible injury and he would carry the scar the rest of his life.
Over the next few weeks the story of what really occured that night in the moonlight came out in bits and pieces.  Dad was going to shoot the horse and Jake confessed that maybe it was not all the horse's fault.  Seems one of the boys visiting "dared" Jake to creep up with a stick and "goose" the horse.  The horse reacted just like one would expect a horse to react and kicked backwards at the offending stick.  Jake just happened to be on his hands and knees right behind the horse.  And no one could see that coming?
Over the days and weeks ahead Jake slowly healed.  Star remained in the corral because we were all afraid of him.  Sometimes I would try to pet him and he would let me.  Dad did finally saddle him and ride, but the horse was way to short for Dad.  Josephine finally ended up riding him most.  She would put us on his back and give us a ride around the yard, but we were always terrified that Star would kick us so that was really not much fun.  I do not know if you know about Shetland Ponies, but they are mean by nature and I think they were looking right at Star when they wrote that definition.
So, my dear brother carried a very ugly scar on his right cheek until the day he died, but no one seemed to notice.  He was such a charamatic kid that the scar never mattered.  Nothing could have detracted from the personality that was my brother.  And why am I telling you about him today?
Today is October 29, 2012.  On October 29, 1965 I lived in Garden City, Kansas.  I had two daughter's ages 2 & 3 years old. I had a daughter who would turn 1 year old tomorrow.  I had a son who was 25 days old.  Tomorrow  would be my 5th wedding anniversary.  And today, October 29, 1965,  my brother, Jake, was returning home from a day at work and the driver of the pick up he was riding in went through a stop sign near McPherson, Kansas and ran into the side of a loaded gravel truck. 
Tomorrow I would not have parties; tomorrow I would travel to McPherson, Kansas to visit my brother as he lay comatose in a hospital bed with his right leg kicking as if to apply the brake.  He would not know I was there.  He would not know my mother sat by his bed from the moment he was brought there.  Or would he?  I like to think that on some level he knew.
He died early the next morning....Halloween. 

My dear brother, Jake 

 

Delbert Leroy Bartholomew

10/ 4/ 1937-10/31/1965



Do we ever forget? I mean completely?

Kansas is a very flat state as you enter from the West.  You can see for miles.  Even a Prairie Dog will catch your eye.  So sometimes the foot tends to get a tad bit heavy on the gas pedal.  I know it does for me, especially when I am driving West and headed for my home in Colorado.  I had spotted these two roadside markers on my way down, so I was watching on my way back. 

The stretch of road between Syracuse and Lakin is as straight as a laser beam.  There are a few rolling hills, but if you have ever driven Kansas, you know just how little those rolls are!  The distance is about 35 miles.  That is why I was a little surprised to spot these and the sad part is, they are just a few yards apart and they are very new.

I could have researched this and found out all the details of who, what, when, where and why, as good reporters do, but I did not.  By being on the side of a highway, they by virtue of the location become public.  The details matter, but are of little relevance in this piece.   They can only serve as a reminder and memorial to the  people who placed them there for that purpose. 

I must confess that as I passed the first one, the blue cross, my foot came off the gas just a little.  The second one, brought it up a little more and by that point I was probably obeying the speed limit.  

I know these little markers can be found all along every highway in this proud land.  As we speed past a little beacon flashes on and makes us aware that some one died on that precise spot.  This has been marked by friends or family of the deceased and thereby committed forever to memory.  Or so it seems.  But years will come and go and the memorials will become faded and then turn to dust.  They will be replaced by newer ones with a different name and date.  That is just the way it goes.

My brother Jake was an enigma.  He was my only brother and I loved him dearly.  After I married and left home we sort of drifted apart, but not really.  I knew he was there.  I knew if I needed him he would be where I was, somehow.  His name was Delbert Leroy, but we never called him that.  We called him Jake.  Mostly Shakey Jake.  He made people laugh, and everyone loved him.  He had a scar that ran  from the bottom of his eye, across his cheek and down and back up.  A horrible looking thing that came from a horse kicking him in the face, but nobody ever noticed it.  He was that kind of guy!

My brother was killed in 1964 at an intersection some where near Inman, Kansas, I think.  Or maybe it was McPherson.  I know he had just gotten off work and he and his friend, John Rogers were heading for home.  Probably they were in a hurry.  Jake had only recently discovered the Lord and I think he was hurrying home to go to church.  He was not driving, but that is not important.  What matters is that there on a very lonely stretch of road, my brother and his friend went through a stop sign and into the side of a loaded gravel truck.  Clearly they were at fault.

Efforts were made to save Jake and he did in fact live long enough for me to get home from Western Kansas.  He wrecked on my daughters first birthday which was also my 4th anniversary.  He died on Halloween. I never went to see that intersection.  I never went to see the pickup or the gravel truck.  The day we buried him the doctors amputated Johnny's leg.  Four days later we buried him.  That was a bad year.

I did not put up a cross, but I have one in my heart.  I thank God every day from October 31, 1964 to this very day that he found Jake before he became a statistic.  I need no marker and hardly ever visit his grave.  He lives in my heart today bigger and stronger than ever before.  I think of Johnny occasionally and am secure that all the markers in the world would not make a difference.  I think he and Jake were talking about how great life was when the conversation ended abruptly.  I do not think either of them seen it coming.

So, when I came to this particular place on Highway 50, I stopped.  I stood for a while and thought about Jake.  And I thought about Johnny.  I can still see Jake in my minds eye.  Johnny has fade, but Jake remains there still 29 years old and still with his lopsided smile.  He will never grow old.  He will never loose his boyish grin.  His eyes will forever twinkle and I will forever think of him along a lonely stretch of road, or up in the mountains, or down by the river, and I will pray for him every time I pray.  I will never cease to thank God for the chance to know this little fellow that slipped through my life and brought me so much joy!



Dedicated to my brother

Delbert Leroy Bartholomew

October 5, 1939-October 31,1964

And my life is full and rich...

This is the Daisy dog. She has not had a bath in over a month!

This is the Elvira, Mistress of the night dog. She just had her bath and she is very pretty.  I look around at my life and I see that it is very good. I have the Cherry Tree right outside the office window, the Redbud blooming in both the front yard and the back yard, the Flowering Pink Almond, Lilac's  and tons of the pretty little yellow flowers all through the grass. Now what more could one woman ask from life? The companionship of the doggies is enough to satisfy any longings I have on the cold winter night. Barely enough room in the bed for me to sleep!

I have a car to drive, a roof over my head, clothes for my back, and food for my tummy.  I have friends and my church for a social life, a mind to think , and a marker at the cemetary that is already engraved. Can you think of anything that is missing? When I bought my marker, the guy at Imperial said the date of my death would be engraved later. I tried to talk him into helping me just set a date and we would work from that, but the guy had no sense of humor. In his line of work I think I understand that.

So, just wanted to share that with you while I had it on my mind.  Dogs come and dogs go. Cats come and the owls eat them. The duck flock is slowly thinning itself and I am sure the geese will follow suit.  A couple years ago I had 36 ducks. Now I am down to 21. It is called the cycle of life.  I have friends who are concerned that the world will end in 2012. First it was 1984, then 1999, then 2000, and I am still here. See, I read the Bible and I like the part about. "No Man shall know the hour of my coming. There shall be 2 people working in the field, the one shall be taken and the other left behind..."

So I shall set here with my doggies, very patiently waiting. In the meantime, I think I will do a lot of living and there is a lot needs doing out there. Think I will go find some to do.

Haiti

My God! The devastation on that tiny island is almost more than I can bear to watch! How can they survive through something like this? Haiti is home to some of the poorest of the poor as you know. What now that people who had next to nothing now have nothing at all?



Can you imagine something like this happening in your neighborhood? Suppose you were fixing supper or lunch and all at once there comes an earthquake that just flattens your home. Imagine further that you were under that rubble. Imagine further that you are still alive under all that wood and concrete. What would you do? Imagine your husband or children were outside. What would they do? I am sorry, this is a scenario that I do not even want to think about. It is hard enough to read about this in the papers and to see the devastation on the television.



I will, of course, send money. That seems to be the easy out every time. No problem is too large if we just throw enough money at it. I can not go to Haiti. If I did I would be more of a hindrance then a help. Haiti is not the first catastrophe, nor will it be the last, so I am going to make a plan. I want a plan whereby I can do the most good for more people. I have noticed that anytime there is something like this occurring there are 2 groups of people who are there before the government, before any other humanitarian group. That is Doctors Without Borders and The International Red Cross.

The work those people do is phenomenal and the reason they do it is most admirable. Both are there when there is any kind of need and they are there first and they are there last. They are very good at what they do and all they ask in return is a little bit of releif for these people. They do need money, because these operations take money. Someone has to furnish the water, food, bedding, medical supplies and the list goes on and on.

So, since I sell on Ebay and Ebay has a giving program, all I have to do is set here in my nice secure home and list things to sell, giving a large (or all in some cases) portion to these two groups. I already list occasionally for SCAP, so this is just an extension of that.

So now, I will say my prayers for the people in Haiti and the rescue workers who are already there. Then I will get busy and do my tiny little part of trying to make this world a better place to be.

May the good Lord take a like'n to you!!