Getting a little weepy in my old age.

If you have ever been to my house, you know how I love flowers and the Lilac is one of my favorites.  I have seven or 8 altogether, but the one at the end of my back sidewalk is my favorite since it is also my biggest.  It has been blooming now for almost a week.  Every time I go out back, which is a minimum of times a day doing chores, I am met with the most heavenly fragrance.  It is strongest in the early morning and early evening, but all day it is on the air.

There is just something about a Lilac that invokes my younger days.  Seems like there has always been a Lilac bush every where I lived.  All the old Aunts had Lilac bushes.  Lilacs and Spirea.  Oh, and Forsythia.  My Spirea bush is about to croak and the Forsythia quit blooming years ago, but the Lilac is better than ever.  My Lilac bushes came from roots at a lady's house where she was ripping hers out cause she was "sick of the damn thing."  Lilac's are very hardy and can me started from a thought of one. 

Back to the weepy part.  When I pass this Lilac I always stop and breathe deeply.  My mind flits away to Grandma's house and a much happier time in my life.  But it makes me sad.  I know that this will only last a couple weeks and then it is gone until next year.  There is no way to capture the smell.  I have Lilac fragrance that I use in my soaps and lotions, but the headiness I experience at the end of my sidewalk is irreplaceable.  I stand there and just wish I could stop time.  My friend in New York sent me pictures of the Lilac festival there a few years back.  At the time I thought how nice that would be to go visit, but then I thought how nice it is to stroll around my yard and touch my own little crop. 

The one by the sidewalk is getting very big and I have to trim it so it does not close my sidewalk.  Today I am going to dig up some roots on the sidewalk side and take them out back and plant them for the geese.  I know I will have to put a fence around them because 13 geese can trample a lot of my transplanting efforts, but I don't mind.  I just want to share with them.

I don't remember being weepy over a smell before, but I am now.  So I attribute this to the fact that I am getting old and probably a touch of senility is setting in as well.  Or it could also be that I am getting older and have learned to appreciate the little gifts that God has given me in the form of a beautiful bush and a fragrance to carry me back in time.  I am sure that when I get to the Pearly Gates, there will be a Lilac bush on either side, and they will be in full bloom and I will just follow that fragrance right on in and up those streets of gold!  

And that, my friends, makes me smile!

Victory!!! I found out how to do the slide show. Damn Google any way!!!

Sleepin at the foot of the bed.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_tkEotkyjHU 

Remember this guy?  This song and "Out Behind the Barn", "Got Company Comin'".  Everyone of those songs hits a chord with me.  We grew up pretty much in abject poverty, which made us right there with everyone else.  We had just come out of the big depression and things were changing.  Dad farmed with John Britan which wasgood because John had a tractor and 40 acres across the river.  Dad had horses because he did not trust that new fangled stuff.  We wanted to go some place, we walked.  Laundry was done on a scrub board before we graduated to the wringer washer.
We had a two bedroom house and there were 6 of us kids.  That made 8 humans sleeping in 3 beds.  Dad had his own bed.  Mom shared with Mary and Dorothy which left us 4 older kids on one bed.  I do not know where Jake slept, but I think he had a pallet on the floor.  Not with us girls, that was for sure.  There was no such thing at our house as privacy.  We had an "out house" and that was pretty private.  Well not really, cause it was a two holer.  But there was a latch on the door.  I often wondered if the latch was to keep me in or some one else out.
I can remember 2 wood heating stoves and one wood cooking stove.  Lord, when it was winter and the wind whistled through the cracks in the walls there just was no keeping warm.  We would hunker down under a pile of quilts, but they were not the pretty ones I have now.  These were what ever we could piece together to cover the old wool army blankets that seemed to pile up over the summer and fall.  Those things were made of something that does not ever  rot, wear out, shrink away, or stop scratching.
The amazing part was, if someone were traveling through and they stopped at our house, there was always a place for them to sleep and a meal for them to eat. Looking back I seem to think that the hayloft out in the barn was the warmest place we had and I think sometimes us kids slept out there.  I do remember when Jimmy Dickens was singing these songs that I could not imagine any other kind of life.  That was just how it was.
Of course, now I am older and look back it was terrible times.  No human should ever live like that, but we did not know any different so we just played in our little piles of dirt or climbed the tree, or chased the chickens and hid from what ever we were afraid was going to carry us off, like the gypsys out North of town.  I was always scared to death the gypsys would get us and to this day, I would not know a gypsy if one grabbed me!  And what would they want with me any how?
Well, I just wanted to tell you about the Jimmy Dickens songs.  Guess this is one reason I only listen to County Classic Radio.
Got to go take a nap.  I have made myself very sleepy thinking of the good old days.  You know what?  I would not trade one minute of my early years for a mansion on the hill.  they are what made me who I am today, and I am just pretty pleased with myself most of the time.
Have a good one.

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2 Blue Stars

Kathleen M. Goodrich

SGT U.S. Army Veteran

You all know that I sell on ebay.  A couple months back I grabbed a handful of lapel pins and put them on as a lot.  The one little bar with a red band, white background, and two blue stars was the one that ended up as my display picture. 

I have had the best luck in the world with my customers on eBay.  If I list something and it is not right, someone will call it to my attention.  If I do not know what something is, someone will email me and tell me what it is and where it came from and what it should bring.  And so it was with this little pin.

In this day of the "me" generation it is refreshing to meet some one who still holds to the value and honor that our Armed Services represents.  This young woman was kind enough to start a dialogue with me and teach me just what this little lapel pin represents.  The following is our correspondence:

Dear loumercer3,
The 2 "Blue Star" Pin is typically worn by a Mother who has two Sons or Daughters serving in the Armed Forces Overseas. In the unfortunate event that one or both of her Children are Killed in Action the Blue Star Would be changed to Red. This pin at one time belonged to a very proud Mother. I thought you might like to know what this pin means.
Kathleen M. Goodrich
U.S. Army Veteran
- kathyvfw

Dear kathyvfw,
Thank you for that information! I am going to take that ad down and relist with this information if that is alright with you? I may not relist it. Seems rather derogatory to sell something that important on ebay along with a pile of other worthless stuff.
thanks again.
Lou Mercer
- loumercer3

Dear loumercer3,
On behalf of myself and all Vetereans, Thank You for giving this most precious symbol of a Mother's Love and Pride the Dignaty and Honor that it deserves. If you must sell it please sell it separately. I am a bit doubtful that someone will bid on it as it most assuredly has been worn by By a Mother and is quite sacred for that reason. I am a U.S. Army Veteran but I am also A Mother of a U.S. Army Veteran and I Proudly wore a Blue Star Pin.
You may think you have a pile of wothless stuff but please remember your Heart is priceless.
Thank You
Kathleen M. Goodrich
SGT U.S. Army Veteran

- kathyvfw

Dear kathyvfw,
I will call the local VFW tomorrow and see if they would like to have it. Or the heritage museum.
First I am going to do a short blog on it.
Thanks again,
Lou

-loumercer3

Dear loumercer3,
Thanks again for caring. My apology for spelling Veteran incorrectly I had spelled it Vetereans possibly a tear or two got in the way. The pin belongs where it is known as much more than a peice of metal. Many Thanks for taking it on it's final Journey.
Kathy

-kathyvfw

And there you have it; what the little pin with blue stars represents.  It is no longer in the bag along with the other pins.  It is now in my jewelry box and when Frank and Kay get back from Texas I will give it to them and they will find a nice home for it where people will know what it represents.  At that point in time it will be accorded the honor it deserves after spending several years in a box of junk jewelry that I picked up for $15 at a garage sale.

I do want to thank Kathleen M. Goodrich for finding my listing and for sharing her knowledge with me.  I am sure her mother also wore a pin like this. 

And my words of wisdom for today ring very true....There are some things that even money can not buy.

Do you know what this pin represents? three guesses!

I put this on an auction and a very lovely lady was kind enough to give me the information on this pin .  It is about 1/2 inch long and 1/4 inch high.  It is a lapel pin.  I will give you exactly two days to tell me what it signifies. 

Post your guess either on the comments here or on face book.

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Been working on the family tree and my mind is boggled!

Well, I decided that I would just bite the bullet and figure out who Reuben Floyd Bartholomew was.  I found me a place called Ancestry.com.  There I typed in Reuben Bartholomew and the approximate year of his birth.  And up he popped!  Also found his mother and her parents.  Apparently her maiden name was Pratton and she had 3 brothers and 3 sisters.  Right now I am a little busy, but I will fill you in as I make discoverys and if anyone might be interested in helping me just feel free to jump right in and go for it. 
As for now, it seems that William G Bartholomew was born  in Grand River, Missouri about 1867.  The lovely  Luella(Louella) was born in 1870-71 in Jefferson, Indiana.  Some how the star crossed lovers met and married and little Reuben appears to be the first child being born on February 3,  1894.
Now you recall that back in the early years, census records, birth certificates and such were all filled out with a pen and ink.  So some things are up for debate.  For instance, on the first census record he is recorded as Ruby.  Louella and Luella and Luela all appear to be the same person. 
the point is, this is some fascinating stuff and I may have to give up my day job!  So hang in there.  I will have updates as I find them relevant.

Many years ago and far, far away.

Way back in the dark recesses of my mind is probably the first memory of my life.  It was before I started school.  Before sister Dorothy was born.  I must have been 4 years old when we lived on the Stroh place outside of Nickerson towards the Arkansas River.  I have many memories of that place, so we must have lived there for a while, or that was when my tiny mind was first starting to grasp things.

See there, how innocent I am?  So anyway, back to this memory.  We had an uncle. Well, we had several, but this one I am not sure how he was connected.  Was not on mom's side  unless it was a way distant one.  So it must have been one of the renegades from my dad's side.  His name was Uncle Ode.   That is all I know.  No last name.  Anyway, one day he came for a visit.  I probably seen him two times in my whole life.  Uncle Ode smoked a pipe, and like all little kids, I was fascinated with that pipe.  So he let me have puff.  I recall I must have done something because all the adults laughed.  He gave me several puff off that pipe and every time the grown ups laughed.  Then I got sick.  Oh, very sick.  And then the grown ups were not laughing any more.  Served them right, I think.

On the Stroh place, mother used to go to "Club".  I do not remember how often or where, but I remember "Club".  Us kids went with her, because there was one lady designated to watch over us and we better be good, and we better be quiet and there better not be any bad reports.  Back then parents ruled the home.   Now there is a tradition that I wish had been kept!

We had a chicken house and several times something had gotten in and got a hen.  So dad set out back and when the weasel showed up, he killed it.  Now, I do not remember our family ever owning a gun, so I am wondering just what he killed it with,  and I was way to young to remember much about that ordeal.  I think it was a weasel.  Could have been almost anything.

I remember us being on the porch one day and the cat came to the yard with a baby chicken in its mouth.  Mother dispensed Jake and the cat into the forest and I remember Jake had a hatchet.  When he came back he still had the hatchet, but I never seen that cat again.  Big yellow tom cat.

Jake and I were in charge of taking the old milk cow down to the road and letting her eat the grass in the ditch.  She would amuse herself like that for quite a while and when we seen her looking towards the house, we were supposed to go "bring her 'round".  One of our favorite ways of doing this was to grab her tail.  This would cause her to run for the barn a lot faster.  Otherwise we had to walk behind her with a switch and touch her rump when she stopped to eat grass.  That was pretty boring!  Course when we made her run, she did not give much milk.  No winning when you are 5 years old.

Sister Donna poked her finger at a turtle once and it latched on to her finger.  Much discussion on that one.  Cut it off?  No way!  It will never let go if it is dead and she will have that thing hanging on her finger for the rest of her life.  And try to catch a husband with a turtle head on your finger!  But be patient and it will let go when the sun goes down.  I do not know how that one played out, but I do not think she still has it hanging off her finger!  So it must have been resolved.

My brother Gene came home from the Army for a brief visit and then was gone and wound up in prison for writing hot checks.  But it was not his fault!  It was that damn Banks boy that made him do it.

The best part of that time in my life was learning to take care of my hair!  Sarcasm there.  The way we got haircuts back then was to have a bowl placed over our head and then trim around the edge of the bowl.  Hence the term "bowl hair cut".  This was second only to washing of the hair for pure enjoyment.  This is how that went down.  We had no hot water, and the only source of water was a pitcher pump in the corner of the kitchen.  This pumped into a sink (of sorts) which was attached to a pipe that ran through the wall and outside into the yard.  Mother would tuck me under her arm with one hand supporting my flopping head and sister Josephine would start pumping.  Ice cold water was pouring into my hair at about 7 gallons per second.  Shampoo and lather and rinse.  I learned very early not to scream , beg, and whatever I did do not wiggle or try to kick free because that just prolonged the ordeal and got my butt beat royally!  And you think you had it rough! 

Well, I could reminisce all day here, but this is not getting the chores done.   When we left the Stroh place we moved to the Ailmore place.  I think my next book may cover some of my childhood lived in abject poverty, but you know what?  I would not have it any other way!

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