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.