Grandma Haas and puberty.

 I was living with the grandma's the year I started high school.  I was sent there by momma to "help take care of them."  Grandma Haas was 62 and her mother, who was my great grandma was in her late 90's.  Grandma used a walker to move from place to place, but great grandma Hatfield was as spry as a spring chicken.  She was very tall as I recall and very regal.  She had a very sharp and well-defined nose.  All of her features were well defined and the word that comes to mind when I picture her is "regal".  Grandma Haas was always happy.  And kind.  Very kind.  She smiled at me with the sweetest smile that I am sure made the angels in Heaven dance with joy.  Both of them had beautiful blue eyes.   As blue as the summer sky.

Great Grandma did all the cooking.  I do not remember what we ate for any meal except breakfast, but I am sure it was a sandwich and probably an orange.  Oranges were plentiful at the grandmas' house.  Grandma Haas owned a house on one corner and Great Grandma owned a house across the street.  Great Grandma had been married 3 times and was on her way to the alter with number 4 when he died suddenly.  At that point she gave up on men and moved in with Grandma Haas to take care of her.  Enter me.  

I started high school that fall in Plevna, Kansas.  The grandma's wanted me to come home for lunch break and since it was only one block, the principal let me.  I would step out the door and I could hear the noon stock report blasting from the old radio.  This was one of those floor models that was wood and had a dial you turned with a knob.  I was never allowed to touch the knob and the only time it was ever turned on was at noon for the stock and market reports.  While the grandmas no longer planted wheat, it was still imperative that they knew what the market was.  The world turns on the stock market, you know.

This particular day my grandma wanted to talk to me, and great grandmother busied herself in front of the Hoover, which was the cabinet which held the flour, sugar and other baking things.

"Have you started your menstrual cycle yet?"

"Huh?" 

"Have you started bleeding down there yet?"

I immediately fell into a dead panic because I knew I was going to be bleeding or at least I was supposed to and I was scared to death and no one I could ask.  The subject never came up again and when I got a little older I figured it out for myself.  Sure glad they started teaching that in school shortly after that conversation.  Well, not so much that, but the whole reproduction thing became more a matter of course then an enigma wrapped in a mystery.

I still have only the fondest memories of the grandmas.  They were from a different era and they were blessed with my being sent to "take care of them".  Sort of like the blind leading the blind.  It was a strange time in my life and the grandma's taught me a lot.  It was there I learned to crochet and do other "handwork".  We read a chapter from the Bible every night.  We never discussed it and it was just understood that if the Bible said it, it was true and I better do what it said.  Period.  End of discussion.  I still hold that philosophy to this day.  God said.  I better do it.

There is not a day of my life that goes by that I do not think of the grandma's.  Great grandma with her ramrod stiff back.  She was like a rock.  She never wavered.  I don't recall her ever laughing.  Course, she never cried either.  She was the epitome of a lady.  And my sweet grandma Haas.  She was crippled from a stroke, but she always had a smile.  Her blue eyes shone with love for me.  She may not have actually taught me the facts of life, but she alerted me to the fact that someday something would happen.

One day I came home from school and Aunt Mabel had come from Coldwater.  She was Grandma's sister.  Momma came the next day and took me home.  Grandma was put in Broadacres which was a hospital where old people went to die.  Aunt Mabel took Great grandma Hatfield home to Coldwater with her.  Grandma Haas died a couple weeks later.  Great grandma Hatfield lived to be 104 years old.  She was preceded in death by her parrot, Poly who lived to be 60 or 70 years old.

My grandma's live inside my head.  I never knew a grandfather, but I still love my grandma's and can see them in my mind's eye as clearly as they were in that two-story white house in Plevna, Kansas.  I have my own idea's about where we go after we die.  I am sure I will make a stop in Plevna to see the high school and run home for lunch with the grandma's.  And Polly will be there singing "Ater the ball is over, after the dancers have gone....."

Peace!

Queen of the Silver Dollar!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The real state of your affairs.

 If any of you out there think you have your likes and dislikes and that you have any control over them being fulfilled as such, let me clue you in to this fact: Karma rules the universe.  You are but a mere spot that shows up as a blip on the radar occasionally, if karma so decides.  Sometimes it does and it is good.  Life is wonderful!  Sadly, this is the seldom ever scenario.  Usually it sucks.  Mostly we just plug along with one foot in front of the other until we get a little break and we are happy for a time.  Usually it is the "blow below the belt" and we are left picking up the pieces of our broken dreams.

If we are happy it is usually at the cost of someone else being unhappy.  I do not mean that we have to do anything to make this happen, it is just the way life happens.  If I go shopping, my wallet is sad, but the store is happy.  I smile and say "Hello" to strangers that I meet  on the street and am usually met with a smile and greeting back, but not always.

Then when I get home and flip on the news.  I listen to news about car jackings, murders, thefts, child abuse and some one waving a flag to save the planet.  Inflation in out of control and law and order went out the window a long time ago.  If your child goes to school and comes home without some nut shooting it, we thank our God.  

What happened to our old fashioned values?  You know, the ones about God and country?  The one about remove the moat from your own eye before trying to get the one out of your neighbors eye?  What happened to holding a door open for someone to pass through?  Or picking up what the lady in front of you dropped and handing it to her?  How much does it cost to smile at someone?  You may be the only person someone meets today and a smile from a stranger might be enough to brighten their day so they can survive the night.

No doubt they sometimes think I am crazy when I go to the local grocery just to pick up an Avacado, but I go through the whole store and smile and make remarks to every person I see.  Maybe it makes someone happy and maybe it is my way of socializing in this post Covid world, but it works for me!

So, just some thoughts today.  

Remember:  You cannot sprinkle showers of happiness on other people without getting a few drops on yourself!

Peace!

 

 abuse and somebody waving a flag to allow abortions. What And then I come home and turn on the news to en 

Skip a rope.

 I have pretty much lived my life as an open book.  Not many secrets behind my closed doors.  Oh, I may occasionally dash from the shower to the bedroom stark naked because I forgot to get clean underwear, but that is about it.  And I may have an occasional carnal thought crossed my mind, but for the most part I live a fairly honest and open existence.  Sadly, I find that is not the case with a friend or acquaintance.  And that gives me pause to think back to my mother's words.  Mother was the wisest woman I knew, but she also had a side that was what she called her "dark side."  I think I may have one also!

Oh, it is not that bad!  Just little things and thoughts that flash through my mind on its way to oblivion.  But I am filled with consternation when I learn of someone actually acting on their sick little fantasies.  Or maybe it isn't a fantasy, only a need to control someone else.  And when that someone is a child, it enrages me.  

Childhood is a time of sand and shovels!  A time of play and imagination.  A time to learn.  A time to build up and a time to take down.  A time of laughter and a time of reaching for the stars.  A time when home is a safe place to grow.  Not a time to be beat down and belittled.

I remember my childhood and while we lived in abject poverty, we had a safe home.  If we did something wrong, we were punished.  Not beaten down, but punished and we knew why we were punished.  Never were we struck because mommy or daddy was having a bad day.  In all fairness I do not remember ever being spanked.  I spent time with my nose in the corner thinking about what I had done, but never put there just because someone bigger than me thought it was a good idea.

Being a grandmother is kind of fun.  Little kids really want to please and they want to help.  Sometimes, it takes a lot longer to do something when I have help and the cookies may come out rather dry or lopsided, but they are still cookies.  We wash our hands, so they are safe to eat!

I let the grandson sleep with me when he stays the night.  He used to have his own bed, but then he decided he needed to keep me safe.  Not sure what had happened to make him think I was not safe, but if he needs to, he can.  Maybe it is not so much me he is worried about!

I guess the purpose of this post is to convey to the adults who read this that children speak a different language then adults.  The little body that is in the bed to "keep grandma safe", may be seeking it's own safety.  Listen to your kids.  I mean really listen.  Listen to the children when the play.  click here

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!

His name was Dewite Jackson.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so it goes!

Peace!

I did not write this......

I did not write this nor do I recall how it got on this blog page, but here it is!  I am sure I copied it from somewhere and put it here because it sure seems to hit the nail right on the head!

 “If I get dementia, I’d like my family to hang this wish list up on the wall where I live. I want them to remember these things.

If I get dementia, I want my friends and family to embrace my reality. If I think my spouse is still alive, or if I think we’re visiting my family for dinner, let me believe those things. I’ll be much happier for it.

If I get dementia, don’t argue with me about what is true for me versus what is true for you.

If I get dementia, and I am not sure who you are, do not take it personally. My timeline is confusing to me.

If I get dementia, and can no longer use utensils, do not start feeding me. Instead, switch me to a finger-food diet, and see if I can still feed myself.

If I get dementia, and I am sad or anxious, hold my hand and listen. Do not tell me that my feelings are unfounded.

If I get dementia, I don’t want to be treated like a child. Talk to me like the adult that I am.

If I get dementia, I still want to enjoy the things that I’ve always enjoyed. Help me find a way to exercise, read, and visit with friends.

If I get dementia, ask me to tell you a story from my past.

If I get dementia, and I become agitated, take the time to figure out what is bothering me.

If I get dementia, treat me the way that you would want to be treated.

If I get dementia, make sure that there are plenty of snacks for me in the house. Even now if I don’t eat I get angry, and if I have dementia, I may have trouble explaining what I need.

If I get dementia, don’t talk about me as if I’m not in the room.

If I get dementia, don’t feel guilty if you cannot care for me 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. It’s not your fault, and you’ve done your best. Find someone who can help you, or choose a great new place for me to live.

If I get dementia, and I live in a dementia care community, please visit me often.

If I get dementia, don’t act frustrated if I mix up names, events, or places. Take a deep breath. It’s not my fault.

If I get dementia, make sure I always have my favorite music playing within earshot.

If I get dementia, and I like to pick up items and carry them around, help me return those items to their original places.

If I get dementia, don’t exclude me from parties and family gatherings.

If I get dementia, know that I still like receiving hugs or handshakes.

If I get dementia, remember that I am still the person you know and love.”

-Rachel Wonderlin

The Ailmore Place in Nickerson

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who says you can't go home again?

Peace!

Walmart dinner rolls/no expiration date

 One of the girls brought this bag to Thanksgiving Dinner last year.  That was November 24, 2022.  Today is January 13, 2023.  That makes these rolls 2 months old at the very least.  They are still soft.  They have no real smell.  There is no expiration date any where on the bag.  I did poke a hole in one of them and it appears to be soft.  No one opened them until I opened them today to poke my finger in one.  Now this is troublesome to me.  

See, I thought that the government had some sort of control over the food that is stuck in a bag and put on the shelf at the grocery store.  Must have been in my dreams.  The fact that there is no expiration date on the bag is in itself troubling.  So I know they were made prior to November , 2022 and the list of ingredients is nothing I have ever read before.  Bread on my table is made with flour, salt, olive oil, sugar, yeast, and water.  That is it.  My rolls will be starting to dry out the next day and by the third day, mold will be starting.  This tells me there is no preservatives in mine and they are easy enough to make that I make them a couple times a week.  Everyone likes them.

So,kids, this is the lesson for today.... read the label.  Do you really want to actually eat something you cannot pronounce?

Sorry about ratting you out, Ozark Hearth, but I only have this one body and I am trying to keep it healthy, so I am not going to eat these rolls.

Peace.

Baily

 Life goes on, or so I hear.  I look back over the years and remember life growing up at home and it seems there was always some sort of dog or cat that was hanging around the back door.  Animals were not allowed in our house back when we were growing up, but that all changed when I married and had my own home.  Below are Icarus, who now shares my bed, and Daisy and Elvira who were my last two dogs.

I still have Icarus, but Daisy and Elvira have been gone for several years.  Before them were Chile Dog, Calico, Boots, Jake, Oopsie, Tammy, Kitty, Sysnyck,  and many others.  They were all members of my family and I shared my bed with all of them.  They all hold a special place in my heart and there is a special place behind my house for their ashes and everyone of them still lives in my heart.

Most of my friends are animal lovers and have special dogs and/or cats, but occasionally a person will come to my home and not understand that Icarus is looking at them like "that" because they have chosen to set in "her" chair.  Of course, the dog is going to sniff you when you come in.  You are invading her space and she needs to know that you are "alright".

There are only a few places that my animals are not allowed to go.  They are not allowed on the table or the kitchen counter.  On top of the kitchen cabinets that end right below the ceiling is discouraged and does not happen very often.  This having been said, you should know that I am an animal person and that is that.

So it is with a heavy heart that I post this poem for my friend, Steve.  It pretty much says it all.  

Rainbow Bridge

Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.

When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge.
There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together.
There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.

All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.
The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.

You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....

Author unknown...

RIP Beckham

Momma and the mink jacket.

 I recall the growing up days in Nickerson as the worst kind of poverty.  Looking back there are a lot of things I endured that were worse than the stigma associated with the Strong Street years.  Many times, I have longed for the security of that dilapidated old house with the outhouse behind it.  Through all the times of trouble and strife Momma kept food on the table and Dad kept the wood box full of wood to burn for both heat and cooking.  I remember the first butane cook stove we had.  What a luxury that was!  It was only used for cooking special meals.  But I digress!

When momma finished her course at the Salt City Business School, she found a job with Franklin Fee Investment Company.  She wore a dress to work and set at a desk doing desk stuff.  We finally moved from Nickerson to Hutchinson.  We first lived on Avenue A, but then Momma got a chance at a house on Fifth Street that she could buy.  We became homeowners.  At that point in my life, it meant little to me. What mattered most was the house next door.  It had an enclosed front porch and a sign out front that said, "Elledge Furs".  Inside the window stood a mannequin wearing a mink jacket.  Her eyes were blank as she stared into the abyss that was her life.  But that jacket caught my mother's eye!  

Mother went to Mrs. Elledge and made arrangements to pay money on that jacket "every time I get a little extra".  And she did!  We never missed a meal, but sometimes momma would pick up a little babysitting or house cleaning and that was "extra", so it went on the jacket.  We never missed a meal and at some point, the jacket was paid for, and it came to reside in our closet.  I am not sure I ever seen her wear it, but the glory of it was that my Momma had it and it was real mink!  She modeled it when she brought it home and that was the last I saw of it.  I will have to ask Donna whatever became of it.

The last time I went to Hutchinson, I drove down 5th Street.  The plumbing shop was a sewing shop and Elledge Furs, along with our house and the next few houses around it was now an apartment complex.  Dillons was still across the street, but it had gotten a lot bigger.  So much has changed since I lived there!  I recall an old adage, "You can't go home again".  Momma said that and you know what?  Momma was right!

Momma was always right!

Peace!

Aunt Beck

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!

December 23, 1983

 That was a very long time ago!  A lot has changed since then, but a lot has remained the same.  It is 0 degrees right now, then it was -8.  Kenny and Gene Baugh had been working on a drive line for the tandem dump truck.  They went to Pueblo Brake to pick up the repaired one and they were closed.  Gene went home and Kenny and I went to Canon City, picked up a marriage license and proceeded to the Senior Citizens housing where we found a retired minister to "do the deed".  

And here I set 40 years later.  Temperature is hovering around the zero mark with no hope of warming in the near future.  I am alone now in this house where I have lived for 40 years.  There are a lot of memories here.  Some are sad but they are mostly happy.  I used to have 2 dogs and a couple cats, but now I just have one cat.  I have driven the same car for 6 years and have no need to buy a new one.  I have one calico cat.  I don't want any other color.  Her name is Icarus and for those of you who know who that is, yes, I do know that Icarus was a male and yes, I do know my cat is a female.  Sherman named her.

It was so cold yesterday that the geese never left their house.  I opened their door, but they stayed inside the wire part.  I will not be surprised to find a dead goose out there today.  I have had those things since Bret was 7 years old and he is 31 now.  I do not know how long they live, but I am strongly thinking they may outlive me!

I started this yesterday and lost interest.  Today is actually the day before Christmas, or Christmas Eve as it is known.  I will not be going to church tonight as I have become pretty much a hermit because of Covid.  I had a friend stop by yesterday afternoon to tell me he would pick me up and take me.  He had a little trouble understanding that I am afraid of crowds.  Covid has pretty much left me crippled socially.  A lot of people do not understand what a panic I go into when I think of going into a crowd of people.  But it is what it is.

So today, December 24, 2022, I want to tell all my friends, Merry Christmas.  Sorry my phobia is getting in the way, but there you have it.  I love Christmas and I like to watch it from the safety of my home.

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!

Peace.

Santa Claus is coming to town!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peace!

Hindsight is 20/20 looking back!

 My momma, the wisest woman in the world told me that years ago. I sometimes wonder if my kids will ever look back and remember anything I said.  I sure hope they do.

Growing up in a house that was home to six kids we all had our place in the hierarchy.  When my father married my mother, he had 3 sons from his first wife who had died.  They had been placed in an orphanage because he could not care for them.  The younger two were adopted into homes but kept in touch over the years.  The oldest left the orphanage at age 18 and mostly wandered the world.  

Of my family growing up, Josephine was oldest because she was the first born to my mother.  She had a different father than my dad.  Her father was supposedly a gangster in Chicago.  Who knows!  Then came Jake, who was the only son, simply because he was the only son.  Then came me, a bright and shining star on the roster of children!  Not really.  That put me in the middle child position which is not a place anyone wants to be.  But there I was, nonetheless.  Then the others who mostly tended to favor my father in coloring and mannerisms.  Donna and Mary were next followed by Dorothy who was the youngest.  Her sole claim to fame is that she was the last one born to my mother. 

Mary was always my dad's favorite.  There was never a question about it: It just was.  When Mary went to Junior High School and they had a dance, my dad went to town and bought her a beautiful white prom dress.  It was so soft.  Mary met and married her future husband when she was 13 or 14 years old.  He was 15 or 16 at the time.  I think.  I am a little foggy on the ages, but they were both very young. I do know I borrowed her prom dress when I married Earl Duane Seeger in 1960.

I look back down the road that I have traveled, and it makes me very sad.  My mother tried to give us kids everything we wanted and needed when she herself had been through trauma that I would never know about.  There are only two of us left, me and Donna.  I wonder if Donna ever thinks about our childhood.  I wonder if she remembers it the same way that I do?  I do know she squeezed a baby rabbit so hard once that it bled out its mouth and she put it in a drawer and covered it up with a washcloth, but it died anyway!

For the record, Lavender is still my favorite color, and my mother is still the angel that I remember.  The only difference is that instead of living on Strong Street in Nickerson, or on Avenue A in Hutchinson, she is walking on the streets of gold.  She is not in any pain, and she gets to look down on me and see that she raised a very strong woman after it is all said and done.  She is waiting for me to take that leap from here to where she waits for me.  I just hope she knows how happy I am that I was raised at her knee.

We all different mannerisms as is common in big families.  Josephine was the oldest, so she was bossy.  Jake was the only boy, so he was expected to do boy things, like chop wood, take the old tomcat that ate the baby chicken to the forest and chop off its head with the same axe, and mostly just do boy things.  He did let me tag along sometimes.  Of course, we all had to cater to Mary and Dorothy, because Dorothy was the baby, and Mary was the pretty one.  Mary was also Dad's favorite.    I do not think he liked me at all, but that taught me how to raise my own kids later in life.  

I bent over backwards to make sure that I did not favor one over the other.  If I spent $20 on one for Christmas, I spent $20 on each of the others.  Later my son pointed out to me that this was wrong.  I should have bought each one a gift especially chosen for them regardless of price.  He also pointed out that he was the only boy and should therefore be granted special status!  Little turd!

But this blog is actually about my high school prom.  Mom had somehow managed to get her hands on enough shiny polyester fabric in a beautiful lavender color.  She then scraped together enough to buy several yards of lavender net to pair with it.  She sewed me a beautiful prom dress all my hand with a pattern in her head!  It was beautiful!

It is at this point that the adage, "You cannot make a silk purse out of a cow's ear." comes to mind.  The softest net is very soft and lays differently than the cheap net that momma could afford.  When the skirt was stitched together with the bodice, it left the stiff net to completely encompass my waist.  What started out to be a fairy tale night, ended up being a torture.  By the time I got home to take the dress off I had a very raw waistline that was actually bleeding. It was packed away in a box under the bed and I do not know what ever happened to it. 

Lavendar is still my favorite color.  Always will be.  Lavender is still my favorite scent, and the beautiful fields of Lavender in Grand Junction is my favorite place in the spring.   

Momma told me long ago that my childhood would be what defined me in my later years.  She sure hit that nail on the head!  My experiences of those long-ago years guide me in everything I do in my old age.  When I think of momma it is always the house on Strong Street and the old wood stove and the ducks and chickens out back.  It is the Peach Tree by the chicken house and the treadle sewing machine and the Catalpa tree by the road.

Wonder it that is what heaven is like?  I sure hope so!

Peace!

Bamboo toilet paper at my house.

 For many years I used recycled toilet paper at my house.  I thought that was the complete answer to doing my part in saving the planet.  One day it came up in the conversation with a man friend and his son.  The son was most interested to know just how they went about recycling toilet paper.  I explained that it is made from recycled paper into toilet paper.  I buy this stuff online so it is purchased by the case.  Lasts a very long time since I live alone basically.

Now, recycled toilet paper is made from recycled newsprint and things like that, so the name is rather misleading.  Granted, if you are used to the thick, soft stuff like Charmin and other high dollar products, you are not going to like my recycled stuff, nor the bamboo that I am currently stocking my holder with, however, I am definitely on the environmentally friendly side of the ecosystem.

And, as for price I pay roughly $1.46 a roll for this. That is a bit more than what I paid for recycled.  Actually, I pay $1.29 for the recycled from Who Gives a Crap.  It is never easy trying to save the planet, but I try in little ways.

I actually prefer the bamboo because it seems to be a little stronger than the recycled stuff, but honey, my old butt is not real picky!

So, the point of this is, I guess my assessment of recycle versus bamboo is what I am trying to convey.  Bamboo is a very fast growing grass that is used in lots of ways, toilet paper just being the one I am familiar with in everyday use.  Not sure if any of these can be purchased at the local grocery store, but since I just got my shipment, I am good for a while!

I do think there is a product out there called Seventh Generation which is readily available on the grocery store shelf.  Or Walmart.  Or wherever you shop;

Oh, and either one is septic tank friendly which makes both myself and the man who pumps my septic tank happy.  So go forth today and think about what you are using in your kitchen and bathroom, and have a blessed day!

Peace! 

Getting ready for new beginnings!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Momma was always right!

Yesterday is gone, tomorrow is far away.

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

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

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

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

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

Peace!

Depression rules this month!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Momma knows!

October is almost gone!

And for that I am grateful!  October is a busy little month around here. I was born on October 1.  I have 2 children born in October.  My only brother was born October 5, 1937 and died October 31, 1965.  I was married the first time on October 30, 1960.  I might have actually been married another time or 2 in October, because I just love the whole month.  I am a Libra.

Libra is the horoscope sign designated for me and pretty well fits me and my brother to a "t".

People born under the sign of Libra are peaceful, fair, and they hate being alone. Partnership is very important for them, seeking someone with the ability to be the mirror to themselves. These individuals are fascinated by balance and symmetry, they are in a constant chase for justice and equality, realizing through life that the only thing that should be truly important to... astrology-zodiac-signs.com

• Element: Air
• Color: Pink, Green
• Day: Friday
• Lucky Numbers: 4, 6, 13, 15, 24
• Strengths: Cooperative,diplomatic, gracious, fair-minded, social
• Weaknesses: Indecisive, avoids confrontations, will carry a grudge, self-pity
• Libra likes: Harmony, gentleness, sharing with others, the outdoors
• Libra dislikes: Violence, injustice, loudmouths, conformity
• Greatest Compatibility: Aries, Sagittarius
• Career: lawyers, judges, diplomats, designers, composers, In search for truth and justice, they are good lawyers and judges, and can also be successful as diplomats, designers and composers if they have nurtured their artistic side from childhood.

And that about says it all.  

I need to think before I speak!

 It was one of those conversations that happen when you are on one subject and your fellow conversee is on another.  Ross was on his way out of town.  It was my job to take care of the cats until he returned.  He has many cats and they all have names, but the two old cats who live inside are named Queenie and Sparky.  They are not to go outside, so they receive special treatment.

The first afternoon he called and I wanted to tell him Queen Elizabeth had passed in case he had not heard.    The following conversation ensued:

"I'm inside the fortress!  Did you know the Queen is dead?"  There was a long pause during which I heard the sounds I could not identify. End of conversation.  

It was not until later when I received the following message in my email, that I realized I might have been misunderstood.

Hey Lou,

sorry not to be as sensitive about the death of the queen when I called. I was confused when you said the queen died cuz I was thinking my cat. And then the gas pump was spewing gas out of the car so it just was a confusing time.

 

OMG!!!!  I am sorry!!!  Although I am snorting coffee out my nose as I write this!!!  

 If one of the critters does not survive till you return, I will break it to you gently. I think a couple escaped to the outside.

 Your Queen is fine, although Sparkie did not greet me yesterday, but I did touch him and he was not cold, just sleeping. 

Just thought it would be fun to share this today since it is cold and dreary outside.

Peace!

Life in Plevna, Kansas

 It must have been about 1955 when I went to live with my grandma'a in Plevna, Kansas.  It was also the year I started high school.   Now there were only about 40 kids in the whole high school.  High School was on the second floor and grade school on the first.  But all that is irrelevant.  

What matters is that it was in this place I began my high school education.  Now, as luck would have it, the lady who lived right next door to the grandma's was the daughter of the man who lived next door to my home in Nickerson!  They also had an old car that ran pretty good and traveled back home to Nickerson a couple of times a month.  Mother made arrangements for me to ride with them when they did go to see her and father.

Now it becomes a little fuzzy in my mind, but I think the lady was named Elsie and I think she was blind.  I do not think they had any children.  All that is irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. So once a month, I think, we would pile into the car and settle in for the 20-mile drive.  The man would fit the crank in the front of the car, wherever he fitted it, and give it a hard pull.  The engine would roar to life and he would jump into the car and as soon as the engine was running smoothly, he would retrieve the crank, close the hood, and prepare to drive the car.  It was when we traversed the road to highway 50 that the fun began!

He liked to sing!  I strongly suspect that he may have also liked to drink a bit!  Of that I am not sure!  But he did like to sing.  One of the songs went like this:

" Oh, I won't go hunting with you, Jake, but I'll go chasing women!

So put them hounds back in the pen and quit your silly grinning!

The moon is right and I'm half tight, life is just beginning!

I won't go fishing with you Jake, but I'll go chasing women."

His wife would try to hush him because there "was a child in the car," but he just sang all the louder.  He seemed to know lots of songs. but that is the one that sticks in my mind.

Sundays at our house were always special because we usually had meat of some sort.  Special was when we had a roast.  That did not happen very often, but there was always hope!

At 4:00 we would hear the car roar to life next door and momma would make sure my face was clean.  Then the horn would beep (ooga, ooga) and I would run out to the street.  The man would open the door, I would jump in, and he would close the door.  Then began the 20 mile one hour drive back to Plevna.  

I wish I could remember his name, but I don't.  Life was so simple back then!  Needs were few.  Pleasure could be found in walking barefoot in the hot sand road of Strong Street or running the back road to the sandpit.  Kick the can was the game of the night and the moon was the only light we had after the sun went down.

Go to sleep, all my childhood memories!  I sometimes long for the day when I can run out the door, jump in an old jalopy and go see my momma.

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!