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!