With Joy In My Heart

 

I’m engaged in the joy of packing in anticipation of moving to another villa. In going through some boxes, I’m finding things I have seen in quite some time. The “With Joy In My Heart” piece was one of them. This was written about 35 years ago. There are a few other things, but though I’ve been putting thoughts on paper for most  of my life, I discarded them instead of keeping them. Go figure!

 

With joy in my heart

For each little thing,

That You in Your wisdom

Into my life did bring,

For You’ll shape my destiny

If I but yield,

My life unto You

As do the lilies of the field.

I can enjoy today

And not fear tomorrow,

For I am your child

 

In both joy and sorrow

February 2013

Last day of February 2013, my birthday month. A lot of birthdays have come and gone since that first one. February has a bad reputation for weather, but it was a fairly good day weatherwise. Also a good birthday, otherwise. Barbara came down for a couple of days. We went out to lunch and to the casino. Made playing money, but no good vouchers to turn in. Still came home with money left over. They are so heavily into the penny machines, you can hardly find anything else, and I intensely dislike the penny machines. I don’t think they are fun.


Carolyn’s good wishes came from afar and Jan was having foot surgery, so Russ was on standby, but I I talked to him on the phone. I had a lot better day than she did, plus the recovery time is not great from most of the people I’ve talked to that have had foot surgery.

They tell me the weather was, and had been bitterly cold, the day I was born. My Grandma Bowen had died on February 13th and on the 15th, she was being buried in Adams Cemetery a few miles outside St. James. Dad and Grandpa Bowen had left that morning with the rest of the St Francois County family for the funeral and got back late that evening. Mother , expecting the birth of a baby soon did not go. In those days with Model T and Model A Fords, plus gravel roads the approximately 65 miles or so was a long and tiring trip, in addition to the loss of wife and mother,. I’m not sure those old cars had heaters yet.

When Dad and Grandpa got home, I was already there, born about 5:00pm. Mother was very displeased that Dad was away when I arrived, and I don’t think she ever forgave him for that; or me either, for that matterm on my choice of timing on entering the world. From what memories I have of him, I think Grandpa was glad I had arrived that day, and this new baby was a good distraction for him in his grief at losing Grandma. He became my special friend.

As of this birthday, I’ve lived through 60 years of marriage, had four children, losing the first one at the age of two months, but still got to raise three great kids. I have 10 grandchildren and 18 great-grandchildren, and in a few months will have been a widow for ten years. Not one of those things we get to choose. We just do the best we can, one day at a time. Life is sometimes annoying and frustrating, but rarely humdrum. At this point, my vision problem is my greatest health concern.

Why I Will Not Vote For Mit Romney

Over the period of the past weeks of the presidential campaign, there have been a number of political references on Facebook. Except for one comment, all I have seen on pages that I have access to, havel been pro-Romney. I have refrained from using Facebook as a political forum, but at this point, I feel compelled to tell you why I WILL NOT vote for Governor Romney. The first requisite I look into when voting for a candidate is judgment. I believe Gov Romney has demonstrated a lack of judgment in several instance.



His seeming lack of knowledge of world affairs troubles me and his reliance on the war hawks for advice is scary to say the least.


Have you actually listened to what he has said he will do: Earlier on? A bit later? And lastly? The word, chameleon comes to mind. How can I vote for a person, who does a dizzying dance step in changing his position? Or whose campaign has to explain away his mis-statements? And when presented with facts that belie what has been said, are told, “We will not allow our campaign to be determined by fact-checking?” Since when doesn’t the truth matter? How can I vote for a person I cannot believe?

Lastly, and I think this also relates to judgment. I do not believe a person’s religion should be a factor in the campaign, though that was certainly a part of the last one. I do not question whether Governor Romney is a Christian. What bothers me is this: Does the church he actively supports consider any of the rest of us Christians, if we are not baptized into the LDS church? Their mission is to save everyone; not unusual, but to do so they must baptize us into THE church; if not in person, then by proxy, without our knowledge or permission? Even, our long dead ancestors, regardless of that person’s religious affiliation. I protest this practice in the names of my two great-great-grandfathers: Thomas Bowen and Samuel Right Brookshire; both Methodist Episcopal South Ministers, who worked mightily for the Lord in their lifetime. Thomas Bowen of Tennessee and Samuel Right Brookshire of Tennessee and Missouri. Yes, I question Governor Romney’s judgment; for this and other instances in the campaign.



Others have spoken their opinion. This is mine.

The Importance of Accurate Information

Today a hint popped up on my family tree on Ancestry. I found out that my mother’s dad was William G Stricker. And that Willie Stricker was the son of Minnie Nevada Ivie. Interesting isn’t it? Since neither is correct. I also found out that Willie was born in Japan. Which must have been difficult since neither of his actual parents, nor his stepmother were ever in Japan.


I recently had some interesting correspondence with a researcher, who had Uncle Amos as a husband and father to a wife and daughter in Iowa. I would have been willing to bet that Uncle Amos was never in Iowa in his life. He was married to Aunt Oma when they were quite young and still married the day he died.

We corresponded back and forth. She was convinced she had the right individual and told me it wouldn’t have been more than 2-1/2 hour drive to Randolph, Missouri from where her people lived in Iowa. That didn’t sound right, so I did the Map Quest check, and even with today’s cars and roads it would be a 5 to 6 hour drive from where Uncle Amos lived to the place in Iowa, and no one in the family had a car as yet.

She did some more checking and now she has happily found the right William Amos for her. Someone else has done the same thing to the poor man, and I’m sure he is not guilty this time either. I just haven’t had the heart to take on that one yet. Ancestry has a lot of good records, many collected by the LDS. Some trees have a lot of incorrect information.

Since the LDS {Mormon Church} is counting on getting these people into heaven by proxy baptism, even after death, I wonder if it will make a difference it the wrong name is assigned to the wrong person. Wouldn’t it be awful to think you might go to hell just because you weren’t identified properly!

Fourth of July – Independence Day

Lucky are we – in so many ways – to be able to celebrate our Independence Day.

I remember one particular Fourth in my childhood. I’m not sure of my exact age, but I’m guessing I was five or six, because we moved away from that town when I was seven. The others are a blank, but probably similar; however this is the one Fourth that sticks in my memory.

Dad was big on celebrating the Fourth and apparently liked having a lot of people around. We always had plenty of ‘company’ and the yard was full of people [neighbors and family]. A ‘really big’ lard can of booyah was cooking outside. I don’t know what else we had to eat, but there were likely other foods in the kitchen. Though the booyah was by far the main item.

Dad filled a big wash tub with ice and Nehi soda. They bought ice cream in 5 gallon dry-ice containers. All in all, it was a kid’s delight, in those days. I’m sure we ran around playing, running and yelling as kids will do. We probably asked for ice cream and soda and found it hard to wait until after we ate. The adults visited while waiting for the booyah to be ready.

After we finished eating, we probably walked over to the town park for a baseball game if there was one. I remember doing that, but I can’t say for certain we did on that day. If a game was being played, I’m sure we attended because Dad really liked baseball. For a time, he was manager of the local baseball team. Several of his grown nephews were members of the team. I think they were called “The Leadbelt Cubs.” We have a picture of the team, which maybe I’ll post here later.

They usually had a carnival in the park on the Fourth too, though I’m not sure when they began doing that; or if there was one that particular year. When they had both, we alternated between watching the game and begging Dad for nickels so we could go on the rides [Ferris Wheel and Merry-Go-Round] and maybe buy pop corn or cotton candy.

Yes, there were fireworks for after dark, mostly sparklers and fire crackers. I never liked the noise the fire crackers made, which did not change when I became an adult. The noise made me jump and unexpected noises still do. Just ask the “balloon lady.” Some of the boys would toss them near your feet. Not smart – and I’m sure they were reprimanded if they were seen doing so.

In some stories I’ve read [set in days many years back in the ‘old’ country] fireworks were set off on other holidays, such as Christmas and New Year. That was apparently passed down in Dad’s family. His cousins I met told me that they remembered one Christmas Dad’s family spent with them and the boys brought along fireworks to set off. She seemed to like them about as well as I did. I enjoy the beautiful fireworks visual displays, but I’ve never been able to figure out why making of lot of loud noise is supposed to be fun.

Happy Fourth!

My Mother - Her 110th Birthday

One hundred and ten years ago today, my mother, blue-eyed, red-haired Mary was born, seven months after her dad died of pneumonia. She, her mother, and older brother and sister lived with her maternal grandparents until she was nine years old, when her mother remarried. They became what today we call a ‘blended family.’ His, hers, and then two more children which were theirs. When they were a little older, she and her older sister took turns looking after their grandparents’ household due to the frail health of their grandmother. Their grandmother died in the 1918 influenza epidemic while Mother was living with them. Pa was there, and Mother went racing across the fields to get her mother when her grandmother seemed in distress. As she said, she was scared to death.


While Mother and her family lived with their grandparents, one of Grandma’s older sisters, who didn’t marry until she was about 40 years old, was still living at home. So they had a mother, grandparents and an aunt telling them what to do on a daily basis, plus other relatives when they were at hand. As Mother put it, “Everyone told them what to do,” and she made up her mind that when she had children, no one was going to boss them around except her, and their dad, of course.

As I said, from what I was told, Dad was full of mischief when he was growing up. And from what Mother told me about herself, she apparently was quite willful. She said Aunt Lee told her she was a misery to herself and everyone around her. And they said “Pa,” her grandfather, spoiled her. I suppose he did, because she said when she got in trouble, she knew that if she could get to Pa, no one could touch her. And apparently the temper that we were well aware of as children made itself known early on. She told me of a time when she made a pan of cornbread. I don’t know what went wrong, but she was not pleased with the results. She said she threw the pan upside down in the floor and then stomped on it. Mother’s younger half-sister told me that their Mother had a very quick temper too.

I only knew my mother as a parent. What I know of her as a child is what she told me. And what I know of Dad as a child is what Mother and his cousins told me.

Relating what I’ve been told is not meant as a put down of them. Just giving you a look at their lives  as it was told to me. They were not perfect as we are not; just real people.

Their lives were not easy growing up. They worked hard; but it was the norm, except that Mother never had a chance to know her dad. And as adults, they both worked hard to raise their children. So, smile Mother and Happy Birthday. There are no tempers in Heaven - or reasons for one.

Remembering My Dad

Today is my Dad’s birthday. He was born 114 years ago. He was the second of twin sons born that day. His brother was accidentally killed when he was only 20 years old. My Dad lived to be 82. He never talked about his twin brother, and I always thought it was because it was too painful for him. What I learned about my uncle, I learned from my mother. In early years the two of them looked a lot alike in a picture we have; but where Uncle Alfred’s hair was straight, Dad’s hair was curly. In pictures of them as they grew older, to me they looked quite a bit different. Though if I could have seen them together, I would probably have seen resemblances between them. Resemblances and identical are not the same, but we all see things differently. For instance, when I was a young woman, I was in the small town where my sister lived. I went in a store where she had been shortly before. The clerk said to me, “You back already? You just left? My sister was a few years older than I, slightly taller, and at that time at least 20-25 pounds heavier than I was. Her hair was darker and styled differently. I admit that we resembled each other, but I’m not quite sure how the clerk could have seen the same person.


The twin brothers apparently were unlike in personality also. Dad was always talking, laughing, joking, picking and teasing [ometimes maybe too much so]. Uncle Alfred was quiet and serious, maybe even somber. In one or two of his pictures, he seems even a bit morose. One of his cousins that I met after I began researching family history told me how much Dad teased the girl cousins when the families visited when they were young. She said his twin was very quiet. Dad always told us that “Pa” was mostly Scots-Irish and “Ma” was German. However, as I found out, his mother was only half-German on her mother’s side; not sure about her dad nationality. So, they were, as I’ve heard it said, “mostly Scots-Irish.” It seems Dad got the ‘jolly Irish’ part and Uncle Alfred to the ‘dour Scots.’

In a school group picture we have when they are about 10/11 years old, they are not standing together. Dad is on the back left corner, and Uncle Alfred is on the back right corner, with their youngest brother in front of him.

Dad was full of mischief apparently, and my other grandmother was said to have referred to him  as "that curly-black-headed little deveil" when he was about 12 or so and incurred her wrath for some reason when they all lived near by each other.

It has occurred to me that the two boys being so different in personality, they might not have got along as well as one might think twins would. What I’ve learned is that someone who likes to pick and tease can’t abide seeing someone going quietly about, minding their own business. They have to shake things up a bit and get something going. With his picking, teasing ways, Dad might have done his share to make Uncle Alfred’s life uncomfortable. And I strongly suspect, Uncle Alfred didn’t know how to handle his more rowdy twin.

None the less, my Dad was a good man and a very good father. I’m glad he was mine.

Those Were the Days My Friend -

I want to write something for my blog and I don’t feel compelled towards anything in particular. It has been a cloudy and sometimes rainy day. I started to go for a walk a short time ago, but when I looked out, I decided not to bother. I’ve been busy with small chores most of the day, and walked a bit in the villa from time to time.

At this point in my life, I find myself looking back at times, trying to remember what the world was like when I was young. Some things I remember, but a lot is gone. We probably should record our thoughts and activities on how our world is from time to time, and I occasionally did that, but not enough to help much. And in the earlier years, I never kept the writings I did.

I was thinking of the things we did to occupy ourselves when weather kept us inside, in those pre-television, pre-computers and computer games back in the dark ages. The game that came to mind first was a word spelling game called Hang-man. I believe my daughters played this game too when they were young. Our younger son grew up alone, but probably would have been more interested in his trucks and other such occupations.

For the uninitiated, one person chose a word, lined out a space for each letter. The other player, or players, guessed a letter. If you guessed an incorrect letter, a part of a stick person was added to the pre-drawn ‘stick’ scaffold. If you didn’t guess all the correct letters before all the stick parts were added, you lost the game and were “hanged.”

The name of the game is gruesome I suppose, but I don’t believe any of us thought of it in the context of anyone being hanged. I know I certainly didn’t. I won’t expound on that, except to say that I, personally, am against hanging anyone and do not see it as a viable means of punishment. However, the game was fun at the time; it also helped a bit with spelling words, and was played without evil intent.

Raising Prices by Downsizing

Several years back, businesses began the practice of reducing the size of their product instead of boosting the price a bit. I don’t know with what product it started, but I noticed it first in coffee and sugar. The pound size disappeared and became an odd number of ounces. I believe it may have begun gradually [I call it sneaky, meant to mislead, so maybe you won’t notice the price has actually been increased, with less product for the same price, nearly the same, or maybe even a little more].

There was nothing gradual about the recent downsized product I encountered. I use a doctor recommended eye drops product to try to stave off further vision damage due to dry macular degeneration. A few days ago I bought a new bottle. I took the bottle out of the package, set it down by the nearly empty bottle of my last purchase. Even my faulty vision flipped my eyes open wider when I saw the difference in the size of the two bottles.

The outside package was still the same size, or so nearly so, you couldn’t tell the difference. I looked at the info on the bottles and I found that the previously purchased product was 2/3 ounce; the recent purchase was 1/3 ounce. Half as much! The price of this product [includes several variations to choose from]is in the approximate $10. to $13. range. What I paid for that 1/3 ounce was about the same price I paid for the 2/3 ounce size earlier, or close enough not to make much difference. That is, or close to, a 100 per cent increase.

I also take a doctor recommended eye vitamin for the same purpose. A few weeks ago I bought a new bottle of these vitamins with a few still remaining in the old bottle. The recent purchase contained 60 capsules. I checked the other bottle. It had contained twice as many capsules, with cost approximately the same. Another approximately 100 per cent increase.

I find it very hard to believe the production costs have doubled. Fair profit? Bigger profit for investors while squeezing the consumer?

2011 – 2012 - Happy New Year

Out with the old, in with the new! Happy New Year to all I hope 2011 ends well for all of you and 2012 begins the same, and continues to be even more so.

2011 has been a trying year for our country and the world in general. Many weather tragedies occurred in the US as well as other countries, with the tornado in Joplin, Missouri at the top of the unwanted list for us, with the many deaths and destruction. Much suffering and unrest has occurred around the world. Yes, I am a loyal, patriotic American. Like it or not, and I don’t, in this present-day world we live in, we are affected by what happens in the rest of the world, and what we do affects many other countries.

We share the planet with many others. If you believe in creation, as many say you do, then God is responsible for everyone in this world, everywhere. If God is responsible for all creation, then why are some so mean and others not? Oh yes, ‘free will.’ We freely get ourselves into all kinds of trouble.

I am disturbed by the militant Christian who rants, raves, shouts and uses ugly word protesting what he/she feels is discrimination against Christians. In a simple example, I’ll go back a few years, when many put bumper stickers on their car that said, “If you love Jesus, honk!” Well that day, I decided to honk. The driver responded with very rude words and gestures. A Christian demonstration? Are we convincing anyone we’re a Christian with our words and actions? It's that "Walks like a duck, talks like a duck" thing. Oh, I know no one is perfect, but maybe we could be a little less imperfect?

Many have had personal tragedies in their families this past year, as mine has. The loss of jobs and homes has, and is being borne by many. Which way to turn? Wet to do? How to keep your family fed, housed and closed, not to mention healthy?

One of the seven deadly sins is greed. I believe that one of the reasons for our current financial situation is corporate/investor greed. Not satisfied with a good, healthy profit, but pushing for a bigger and bigger profit. There is nothing wrong with making money, making money is a good thing, depending on what you have to do to get it, and who you have to walk on. The Bible says that the love of money is the root of all evil, not money itself, but the love of it, when you are willing to do anything to get it.

Wherever you are, whoever you are, whatever your life was in 2011, my hope for you is a better 2012. Please, have a safe and happy New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day.

Have you heard of “Do One Nice Thing?” One woman’s [Debbie Tenzer’s] attempt to make the world a better place by doing an act of kindness for someone, somewhere; simple or more complex. Is there a good deed you can do? Even a small deed will make a difference to someone. I’ll leave you with an old adage, “If you would change the world, first change yourself.”

What Happened to November

I know it took 30 days for the month to go by, and there were four weeks and two days in the month, and 24 hours in each day. But it seemed to go by so fast that it was like picking up a book, opening the cover and arriving at the back side of the book while bypassing all that was in between.

Needless to say, I don’t now participate in many of the same things I once did, due to age, health and the circumstances of my life. So, what did happen in those 30 days?

I admit to spending a good portion of my time with my Kindle. What a boon that is! My eyes were getting to the point where I had great difficulty in reading new books; either purchased or borrowed from the library, due to font size and the faintness of the ink used in printing. My Kindle has the advantage that I can enlarge the size where it can be comfortably read.

I spent part of each Wednesday afternoon with a group of women who have an interest in handcrafts, plus a few others who don’t ‘craft,’ but stop in to chat and look over what we have done. Most of us crochet, though there are a couple of knitters and one woman makes quilts. Such pretty and useful items emerge from this group. I only crochet, and as I have said before, it is fun to see what you can make out of a straight piece of string.

There were two or three trips to the grocers during the month, and one stop at the local yarn store. Shopping has never been one of my favorite activities, so I avoid it as much as possible. There was little else I needed, and I made a relatively small online purchase for those items. Of course, there are the odd bits and pieces of daily life, plus phone calls from family, conversations with neighbors, and so on.

I had to renew my car license this month, so had it inspected and winterized, and it’s good to go. Also had a medical checkup, which went well, except I have to follow through on one thing, which I have not yet done. Tomorrow, I promise myself I’ll call about that appointment.

Of course one must allot some hours to eating and sleeping and attending to various household tasks. I usually make daily checks to see who said what on fb, read and answer emails [at least some of them], check out genealogy correspondence, and do a little research. However, there has been a day or so in the past few months when I haven't even turned on my computer. Strange!!!

Last, but certainly not least was the Thanksgiving holiday. I had a great dinner as usual, with Russ and Jan and their family. I enjoyed being with them, also as usual, while missing the one who couldn’t be there.

Well, there you have it. Whatever I missed, you don’t need to know, and I don’t need to say; but in enumerating the events of the month, now I know what happened to it.


Tomorrow begins December. Our family has an important birthday on the next day. Towards the end of the month is the most important holiday of all, so...

Merry Christmas, Everyone!

My Own Little Room Full of Books

Because of Winn-Dixie by Kate Dicamillo
Main Characters: a ten year old girl (Opal) and a dog named Winn-Dixie.

This isn’t a book review, so I won’t try to describe the book, except to say that it leaves you with a pleasant feeling. I just want to tell you about one small incident in the book.

Ten year old Opal meets an ‘old lady’ in the small town’s library; the woman who owns it. During their getting acquainted chat, the librarian tells Opal that when she was twelve years old, her father told her that for this special birthday, she could have anything she wanted. Anything! She explained that he was a very rich man, and she had no problem coming up with what she wanted. She wanted a library of her own, just a small one, of course; a room/house full of nothing but books, which she would share with others. To her great delight, her father built a small house and filled it with books, where she read them and shared them with the townspeople throughout her lifetime.

Having fallen in love with books myself, even before I learned how to read; I can only imagine the joy she got from that very special birthday gift. My father certainly wasn’t rich, but even if he had been, I’m sure it never would have occurred to me to ask for such a fantastic gift. Yes, the best birthday gift ever. In its way, my recent Kindle gift is my own little room full of books.

Family Loss

This has been a week of loss for our family: two family members in just two days. One, a grand-nephew only 49 years old, who fought a valiant battle against pancreatic cancer, succumbed to that terrible disease. He and his family knew that he was going to leave them. Being of Christian faith, they are secure in the knowledge that he is now in a much better place. That does not change the fact that there will be a great gaping hole in the lives of the family left behind: his parents, wife, children and other family members will be confronted with this empty space, which can only be dealt with one day at a time. I recall a song that says, “One day at a time, Lord, one day at a time.” And I believe living “One day at a time,” is part of the Alcoholics Anonymous creed. Attempting to look at a possibly long road ahead without the person we’ve lost can be overwhelming. Just too much to contemplate.

The day following David’s death, my youngest sister, aged 63, died suddenly and unexpectedly in a car-train accident, where she apparently drove in front of an on-coming train at an unprotected crossing. I’m sure she neither heard nor saw the train, but of course I don’t know why. Was she distracted? Was there a medical reason? A medication side effect that made her less aware of her surroundings?

Susan was not only my youngest sister, but the youngest in our family of 12 children, eight boys and four girls. Now there are only four left, two boys and two girls. The two younger girls were born after I married and were near the age of my own two daughters. They grew up together, more like cousins than aunts and nieces.

The news about Susan was so unexpected, I was in shock. The blood pressure soared and I couldn’t speak without stuttering for a while, until it began to descend to a more acceptable rate .

She, too, has a family: a husband, children, grandchildren, and I’m sure they are having trouble comprehending (if indeed it can be done) so great and sudden loss. She too, is of Christian faith, so no worries for her after-life; but oh, those left behind, who will now have to find a way to live without her. God help them and sustain them. God help us all.

What can I say to you Susan? I don’t know,words fail me. Perhaps, only as I said before: Susan, Susan, Susan!

Making a Mess

Two years ago yesterday on July 31st, I began this blog. The day before, on Sunday, I spilled a full cup of coffee when I attempted to set down the cup on a side table while watching that couple dance their way down the aisle to be married. Not paying enough attention to what I was doing, I set the cup too close to the edge, it bobbled, I lost control of the cup, and the “whole cup of coffee” spilled onto the floor.

Two years later, plus one day, I did the same thing again this morning, though for a different reason. This time I lost the cup as well as the coffee, so every drop went on the floor. Not a great start to the day.

When we were raising our family, I had a motto about making a mess: When you make a mess, there’s just one thing to do about it, and that is clean it up. I’m talking about the accidental, unintentional things that will occur in a home and in a family. I see no reason to get excited about something that wasn’t done as a result of mischief. In that case it would be the mischief that needed attention. Goodness knows, I got scolded and punished plenty of times for the sometimes broken dish, as a result of my clumsiness in the kitchen. I was the family klutz it seems. Yes, I know the reason.

I did have a word or two for myself this morning, due to my not paying attention to what I was doing. Not having the luxury of maid service, I had to take my own advice and clean up the mess. When the carpet dries, I will see whether or not I have to go over it again, and I strongly suspect that I will have to do just that.

Since the ‘spill’ episode, the day has gone by much as usual, doing this and that small task. Among other things, I finished the edge of a crocheted scar and have begun a small baby cap, which is about 2/3 finished.

When I go out again, and pick up new batteries and a charger for my camera, perhaps I’ll post some pictures.

Hope you haven’t had any messes to clean up today; but, if so, I hope they’re all small.

P.S. Being right is good, except when it isn't. More spot cleaning [a realllly big spot] coming up.

June 2011

Another fast-traveling month has zipped by with more storms, but not so violent thank goodness. The aftermath of the really bad ones will be felt for a long time by many.

I’ve been quite busy with one thing and another, and I find myself as usual with not enough time or energy, to do all that I would like to do, so by the end of the day I feel a bit used up.

I have been enjoying visiting with the ladies in the craft class/club here, while we work on various projects. It is nice to see these beautiful things emerge. And good to see the pleased smiles of those learning to do something new. I don’t want to take on any projects that I would have no place to put them when they’re finished. I only crochet, choosing various items, which don’t take a long time to do, and will eventually benefit someone somewhere.

I hope you had a good month and will have a good Independence Day celebration with your family, while we remember all who have made this possible and those who still give their service to our country.

May 2011

Another month has gone by. I bemoaned April because of the bad weather: too much rains and too many killer storms. The month of May night not have had as many tornados as April, but it had one of the deadliest. In addition to the many lives lost and people who were injured, I heard this morning that 8,000 homes were destroyed in Joplin. It sends your head reeling.

I applaud the volunteers and government officials who have done tremendous work in the area and all still have much to do. Sever years ago after my husband died, a friend asked me how I was doing. I said I don’t know, I just get up in the morning, do what I can, go to bed exhausted and try to get some sleep, then get up in the morning and and do it all over again. There are so many things that need doing in the tornado aftermath, the one foot in front of another regimen must be very trying indeed. God help you all and give you strength to do what you must.

April 2011

Here we are at the end of April 2011. In just a few more hours, four months of this year will have zoomed by. Tomorrow will be May 1st and rent day will have arrived again. I have always heard it said that times goes by faster as you get older, but it seems to me one week goes into another and one month to another, until we arrive at another year before we’ve hardly begun. What was it Eddie Albert said in the song? “The years dwindle down to a precious few.” Actually they don’t dwindle, they seem to be like Superman and rush by with the speed of light.

As it is, I don’t think anyone will regret seeing the end of this April; such a horrid weather month. So many homes destroyed and lives lost, though we were so very fortunate, in that there was no loss of life due to the tornados in our area. Other states, and especially Alabama were not so fortunate.

It seems we have been bombarded with “bad,” by many things: weather, wars, loss of homes, the jobs we need to support our families, kids [and some older folks too] messing up their lives with drugs, which leads to crimes and sometimes their deaths or that of others. So much trouble, not only in our country, but around the world. But among all the bad, there is also much good, as exemplified by the many helping hands reaching out to those who have lost so much.

Welcome to Winter/Spring

Surprise: Woke up this morning to find several inches of snow on the ground and on top of my car, and still snowing quite heavily. Weather people did say a front was coming through and snow could be mixed in. Looks to me like it wasn’t mixed in, but on top of… Supposed to be up around 40 this afternoon, and then maybe more rain, so the snow wouldn’t last long. Really!

About mid-morning, I looked out and the snow had almost stopped, so I thought it was winding down. A few minutes later, it had wound up again, with lots of big, heavy snow flakes. Old Mother Goose was really shaking out her feather beds. After a couple of hours, the snow lightened some, but it has continued to fall all day, and is still going strong.

We’ve had a lot of storms this winter, and most of the time we were on the light end of the accumulation where I live. This morning, they said the forecast had changed and this area was to get more than other places. I guess it was our turn.

One granddaughter, who was raised in Missouri, went to Florida to live, when her family moved there while she was in college. She always missed the change in seasons, and longed to see snow again. Her own children had never been exposed to snow and winter weather. Late last summer they moved back to Missouri, and I’d say they are now well acquainted with snow and ‘snow days.’ Maybe a little more than they would have liked.

I, too, like the change of seasons, but it has been a very long time since I thought snow was a great thing to have. Driving to and from work in snow and ice; the slush, the mess, the concern for people on the roads has long since lowered its appeal for me. I was fortunate never to have had a weather related accident, but one day on my way home from work, I slid on ice six ways from Sunday. [How long since you’ve heard that expression, if ever?] And never touched a thing. Talk about guardian angels!

My children, like many others, thought it wasn’t Christmas without snow. As far as I’m concerned, some of the best Christmas weather we had was when our kids played badminton in the yard with their Dad on Christmas Day. And later, another good Christmas weather day occurred, when the grandchildren were able to eat Christmas dinner at a small table out on the porch. That kind of weather is very much to my liking.

It is still snowing here, but it is now somewhat lighter. At any rate, all you drivers have a safe trip home this evening, and as someone on a television show used to say [I think it was Hill Street Blues], “Be careful out there!”

Grandpa Bowen: A Childhood Memory

William Cornelius Maguire Bowen, "Grandpa" Bowen, as most elderly people did at that time, lived with one of their children. He alternately lived with my family, or his daughter, Aunt Edith Cooper. He is one of my best childhood memories.

When I was born, he was 71 years old. His hair had been black, but by that time his hair was gray, and, he had a long, white beard. His eyes were a beautiful blue. I can still see those twinkling blue eyes in my mind. My brother, Tom, had those same twinkling blue eyes, with mischief added to the twinkle, as a boy.

Of Grandpa's four brothers, three were tall. Two were lean and lanky; the other also tall, but had a bit more muscular build. One other brother died when he was about 30 years old, and I never knew him, or had a description of him. Grandpa William M . C. Bowen was slim, but he was not tall like his brothers. I suspect he minded, as siblings will, that he, the eldest son, had to look up (in height) to his younger brothers.

He was injured by a falling tree while cutting timber when he was in his 50s and his leg was broken. Apparently it was not set properly, and he walked on crutches for the remainder of his life. This curtailed much of the physical work he had previously done, but he made himself useful around the place doing what he could do.

My grandmother, Sarah Jane Deskin Bowen, died two days before I was born. Grandpa and Dad were away at her funeral, and when they arrived home, they found a new baby girl. I suppose this new child helped fill a small hole in the empty space left in my grandfather's life, by my grandmother's passing. He was a very special part of my life as a child. He died much too soon for me, when I was only seven years old, and I missed him sorely. He was my special childhood friend.

My mother told me that when I was a baby, she would pile pillows in a rocking chiar, lay me on the pillows and Grandpa would watch me while she did her housework. If I woke and got fussy, Grandpa would put his foot on the rocker and gently rock the chair until I quieted, or Mother could come to do what was needed, if I was insistent.

Mother said she thought "Pa" Bowen was cranky. And one of my brother's, a little older than I, expressed the same opinion. I don't remember him being particularly crabby with me, except that once he told me to go get him a 'couple of sticks of wood." Being a literal minded child, that is exactly what I did. If that was what Grandpa wanted, that was what he got. I brought in two sticks of wood.

He fussed at me because I didn't bring more wood. And being this literal minded child, I didn't understand why he was displeased, when I did exactly what he told me to do. In my defense, I might add that I was a 'small' child, and unless the sticks were also pretty small, I probably couldn't have carried much more than that anyway.

I do remember that I pestered Grandpa, probably too frequently, to "Please let me look in Grandma's trunk." For some reason, I was fascinated by what was in this trunk and I delighted in going through it. However, I can only remember one item specifically, that it contained. That was the little clay pipes that it was said Grandma smoked, as did older women of some cultures. Grandpa promised me the pipes would be mine when he was gone; but he was not living with us when he died, and noone would have paid any attention to a child my age anyway. Later, I asked my cousins if they remembered anything about the trunk, and what had happened to the pipes, but neither had any memory of them. I suspect that all, or most of what was in the trunk was discarded as having no value.

As often as I asked Grandpa to see what was in the trunk, he had plent of opportunities to be cranky with me if he wanted to, but if he was, I have never recalled it. Cranky or not, I wouldn't have traded him for anything. When he left us, there was an empty space in my life too, and there was noone else to fill it for a very long time.

Readers' Choices

Recently another birthday came around. Admittedly, the numbers are getting pretty high. I celebrated with family members who live in my vicinity and received lots of good wishes from others farther away. I’m grateful to, and for, all of you. I also received cards from some of my neighbors here at W.P. And someone sang happy birthday to me over the phone. When the friend called, I was at my family birthday party. The next day, when I checked the answering machine, instead of leaving a message, she had sung Happy Birthday. Nice, Martha!

Anyone who knows me very well knows that I have been an avid reader for most of my life. I fell in love with the printed word as soon as I learned how to read. Or perhaps before I could read, because my desire to do so was what led me at age four, to take my little brother and run away to school, so I could found out what was in those books. Growing up, I can remember hearing my mother say so many times, “She is probably somewhere with her nose in a book.”

As I got older, libraries and book stores became two of my most favorite places. Since I couldn’t seem to walk out of a book store with only one book and ended up with an armful, I forced myself to stay away from book stores and spent more time at the local library instead - much more economical for me.

Much has changed since that day I ran away to school so many years ago, including my vision, unfortunately. For some time I have frequented the ‘larger print’ section of the library for the most part. The fine print of newer books makes them very difficult for me to read. As do other books with smaller or very narrow fonts.

Recently, I saw a news item where book publishers were going to make these types of fonts even more prevalent, because they would use so much less ink and cut their printing costs. I wonder if they have given a thought to eye strain for the reader!

Another big change for readers is the ability to download and read books on a small computer-like ebook, called a Kindle. That was my special birthday gift this year, along with a gift card to load up [download] some books. Needless to say I was/am very pleased.

I remember the fleeting thought of wondering if I would have a problem with the font size. Knowing my love of reading and my vision difficulties, the first thing my daughter-in-law pointed out to me was that the text size could be changed to suit the reader. The case has its own built in little light, so you don’t have to worry about having sufficient light, as well as a reading size that is comfortable.

I’m looking forward to many hours of enjoyment with this new reading tool. I’ve got the Kindle and gift card register, am learning how to use it, and have downloaded one book so far. I still have one library book to finish reading, so I can take the books I now have out on loan, back to the library. Then I can concentrate on this new reading experience. That’s the special gift I mentioned, Trish.