Tuesday, October 18, 2016

Visiting Home: Jeannie, Gerry, and Jake

Life at Woodsong has been different this past week as a couple of our kids were in and out all week. Jeannie started the visits on the 8th. She had texted she might be down for a one-day visit if she could get her school work done enough to feel free to come. Next she said she was definitely coming, but she would have to attend a funeral at Johnston City during the brief time she was here. She did arrive that Saturday morning having stopped at motel on the way down. We had a good visit before she needed to leave for the funeral,

Come to find out, a very dear Freeport friend's mother had been on life support and had died upstate, but was being brought down state to be buried by her husband in one of our area cemeteries. Since Jeannie was already hoping to come down, that made it possible for her to attend the funeral.

After the funeral back at Woodsong, we continued catching up. I had been eager to hear about how she was adjusting to teaching art with kindergarten through fifth graders. I was afraid she would not enjoy working with younger kids, but I think she is enjoying the challenge. She teaches at two schools this year. One has a small art room; but at the other school, she has to teach from a cart in other teachers' classrooms. Now that is a challenge! Altogether she sees 500 students, so I do not know how she will be able to know her students very well. There is evidently sometimes another new art teacher co-teaching, but I did not understand how that works. I cannot imagine how one teaches from a cart going from room to room! Yet she does. She has been teaching already about lines and curves, and I saw some of the simple sculptures of colored paper strips made by students.

She had insisted she wanted to take us to dinner Saturday night, so we let her. That was very nice since there was no clean up--and then we came home for more visiting. Finally after her daddy went to bed, we ended up in the living room with Jeannie on the couch along with piles of small blue rectangles containing bolts. Lighting bolts, that is. Bolts on the blue flags. One of the two elementary schools she has shifted to from middle school are called Bolts—not bulldogs or cardinals or some ethnic group that would be criticized but Bolts! The kids would be walking in the high school Homecoming parade and waving their flags, and she was taping on crepe paper streamers before the kids taped on pencils to hold the flags to wave. Although Jeannie has never been a “Let's all do the same thing” kind of art teacher, there were lessons used with the flags. The difference between students' work was interesting. Some of the hand drawn bolts were quite clearly bolts and showed talent and/or neatness. Some few were almost blobs, and probably those children whose past had contained little manipulation of paper, scissors, and creating learned the most from the experience.

A couch full of art stuff was so typical of one of Jeannie's visits that I had to laugh. One pre-Christmas visit she was helping students create 1,000 cranes for decoration. Everyone at Woodsong was invited to join in that Origami project. I had never heard the Chinese/Japanese legend of their crane that lived a 1000 years and that making 1000 cranes would let a person's wish come true. From the 1700s until now, many people have found themselves trying to create 1000 paper birds. The cranes had life-long mates and came to stand for loyalty and faithfulness. They also have come to stand for world peace and healing and almost all good things. If you want to know more about the paper cranes, you might want to read Ari Beser's post “How Paper Cranes Became Symbols of Healing in Japan.”

We talked and talked as Jeannie taped the streamers on the flags, and it was much too late when we went to bed since she was leaving at 5:30 Sunday morning planning on stopping somewhere along the way to attend a worship service. Gerald, of course, was up at 5:30 and saw her off on her way upstate after the too-brief visit.

Soon our minds were focused on the coming visit of Gerry who was on his way from Texas. His bedroom was waiting for him; but it was actually already day time when he arrived on Monday after a two-hour sleep in the truck on his way here. (Yes, he did take a nap after arriving.) Bouncing around in our side yard were three adorable puppies--curly-headed black Boykin spaniels, which Gerry explained were the only hunting dog developed in he United States. He also had Vickie's Nelly because she was in heat, and also Jake, who used to live at Woodsong. One of the puppies was for Gerry's cousin DuWayne, who was good enough to keep all of them and also Nelly while Gerry traveled in and out of Woodsong. When DuWayne brought the Boykins back on Friday night and helped Gerry prepare for the trip back to Texas, he reported the grandkids there had a blast with these sweet good-natured puppies.

Jake stayed with us and acted as though he remembered everyone, and to my delight, he still ran with his little tail curled. (Unfortunately, he also still stayed at Gerald's feet making him have to slow down and watch out for tripping. So Jake went back to Texas after his visit home.)

Throughout the week, we had visiting time with Gerry—especially Gerald who was always helping when Gerry was here at the farm. Gerry was actually here on dog business, and I couldn't keep up with it all. There were bird dog deliveries or purchases at Atlanta and Birmingham and up near Chicago. And there were visits to Union County and with dog/hunting friends in Paulton and Hamilton County. Because his time schedule was so dependent on dogs and other people, Gerry insisted I not cook for him. However, as is typical of his visits, soon there was a plastic pail full of dove carcasses soaking in water in the garage fridge. Although he planned to run to town and get us barbecues, I think he liked it that I had already started frying the doves to go with biscuits and gravy for that supper. At least he bragged on it, and I felt I did a good job of seasoning everything.

Mary Ellen came over to see him when he wasn't here, so I had a good visit with her. And I even had a brief visit with our nephew Bryce.

When Gerry pulled out of the driveway Saturday morning in his pick-up followed by a trailer full of bird dogs, we recalled  those long-ago trips to Mexico for a season of hunting at his lodge. He delivered dogs and arrived home in time to rest up for his job at A&M.

The day after Gerry left, Gerald found the news release from the ScrapYard Dawgs announcing Gerry as head coach for the 2017 National Professional Fastpitch season. Guess this means we have one more team to follow next summer after the college softball season ends. Probably this is a good thing for us. Doctor, eye, hearing, and dental appointments are our major activities in this decade of life! If the kids had not come, that was all I would have had to write about!

Monday, October 03, 2016

Memories of The Way We Were

As Gerald and I entered Giant City State Park with the green of huge trees blanketing both sides of the road, I felt both anticipation and nostalgia. Here it was that we used to come for Baptist Student Union retreats from nearby Southern Illinois University. Memories of those days started as we arrived for the 24th reunion of Baptist Student Union. This event was begun by a few 1940s alumni in someone's kitchen having so much fun that they decided they ought to plan to meet again the next year and invite all their decade's BSU alums. Eventually the 1950 and 1960 BSUers were invited, and now the older alumni are mostly gone. We probably need to start recruiting 1970s kids! Gerald and I were relaxed because we were even a mite early after keeping my Carbondale dental appointment followed by some successful shopping.

We came to the lovely rustic lodge created during the 1930s Depression proving again that good things can come out of bad times. Beverly Walker and Betty Arnold greeted us with smiles as we entered and received lovely programs and even a memory paper full of questions to jog them. Name tags to hang around our necks had large first names to help our aging eyes recognize each other. I didn't immediately see anyone I knew. After a foray past the stuffed buffalo to check out the shelf of books by local authors, I returned to the leather couches. My seat mate was a Audrey Deppe, whom I had not met. That conversation was one of the reunion highlights for me as we found out we'd both lived at Woody Hall the year it opened, and we both shared stop and start careers interspersed with baby and child care just as so many women in our generation did. I learned that Roger had been in administration with the Saint Charles, MO, schools, and Audrey laughingly told me how she worked herself down (not up) from fourth grade to kindergarten, her specialty both by training
and choice. That conversation gave me more confirmation on the importance of preparing children for a lifetime of successful learning.

When I became aware of a man on the opposite couch, somehow I heard he was Al Fasol. In Fall 1954, Al had been a student editor in George Dennison's journalism class as well as in Alice Hoye's speech class when I did my student teaching at West Frankfort High School. Al and the late Richard Darby, also an editor, were the only two student names I remembered. Al said he was in that speech class to overcome fear. He explained his family moved down from Chicago when he was in seventh grade and he was so shy that he took a lower grade in English class rather than read his essay aloud. (I bet it was an A essay too.) Miss Hoye helped him overcome that fear of public speaking, and later he began to preach as well as do radio announcing. He remembered coming down to preach at tiny Ware Baptist Church with the late Lucien Bozarth in 1960. He was dissatisfied with his preparation and consequently with his sermon, but he said he learned an important lesson about the need to prepare. Ware was our church then because Gerald was farming Lucien's mother and uncle's farm in the Mississippi River bottoms. Later Al was with Marion's Station WGGH from 1960-63. He left just as we came to farm in the Marion area. I was delighted to catch up with a former student, but he spoke with so much modesty that I did not guess his many degrees and his 32-year career in Fort Worth as an outstanding preaching professor and that he would be our main speaker on Friday.

As time for dinner approached, we were invited into the reserved dining room. The hall way was crowded, but I was able to visit a bit with Jane Walker Sims from Harrisburg. When I asked about Richard Stewart, she explained he had not been able to come because he had broken a leg in a golf cart accident. She'd been to see him before she came. She asked about my sister Rosemary Martin Parks, age 90, and her husband Phil, and I could tell her they were good down in Amarillo. (They still cook supper every Friday night for their kids and grand-kids and whoever wants to show up which can be 10-20 people.) Beside Jane were a younger couple whose name tags said Robert and Marilyn Parks, and he explained he was Phil's nephew. I was so disoriented that even when Marilyn said their son was named Phil, I did not catch on this was Dr. Bob Parks and Marilyn Scarborough Parks, whom I once knew as Curt Scarborough's teen-age sister. Later Ken Cannon introduced them since this was their first reunion and told us they would have to leave early since Bob had duty early the next morning. As they left, Bob handled the old joke about doctors practicing with good humor, and Ken hoped they would return next year.

We had been blessed to find ourselves at table with Marc and Doris McCoy and Earl and Delores Dungey. Marc is a graduate of Eastern Illinois University and was active in BSU there. He began attending the reunion to bring his late father, but he has become one of our most ardent supporters. The SIU yearbook exhibit he brings each year is just one contribution. Marc works at an Indianapolis bank, and Doris is a nurse at the Methodist Hospital there. I so enjoyed getting acquainted with her and also with Delores Dungey. Gerald and Earl's paths cross, but Delores and I had never visited even though we live close in rural Marion. She is a sister to one of the Emery brothers I do know, and I learned more of the history of their earlier skating rink that burned down before we came and where her 16th birthday party took place. Earl had mowed their yard before they came because they were leaving next day on a bus tour to Maine. That is how they travel because Earl says every thing is planned and taken care of. Among other places, they've been to New Orleans, Boston, and Washington, D.C.

Music was an important part of the reunion as it was when we were in BSU. Even before the blessing, Barb Eidson played and introduced our theme song “The Way We Were.” In the absence of Darrell Molen, Marc led the blessing, and then table by table we chose from the bountiful buffet serving a country dinner menu, which featured dumplings and their famous fried chicken.

I had been looking forward to our annual visit with the Molens. Roberta Hollada, who graduated from Mt. Vernon High School with Betty, explained to me that at their recent reunion, somehow Betty's wheel chair hit a bump and she was so injured she had to be hospitalized. Roberta had talked to her this week on the phone and Betty has recovered enough for therapy.

We were also missing Wendell and Mary Garrison, and it was explained Wendell had to cancel as he preached the funeral for Keith Stanford. Copies of Wendell's fifth devotional book A Joyful Journey through Philippians were there. We came home with two to add to his others on our shelves, and Gerald is already reading his roommate's latest book.

A varied program followed dinner with Ken Cannon as master-of-ceremonies. Bob and Oleta Barrows led the Confessions Game, and Gene and Ginger Wells answered questions to see how much in agreement they were. We learned they agreed that Ginger was the better driver. Gerald thought perhaps this was the result of an extra long trip Bob took them on as they returned from the now annual school-year trek to Georgia where they enjoy helping out with grand-kids while their daughter teaches. Ginger asked for prayers for her she drive through Atlanta on Sunday.

Becky Searle, Ginger Wells, Roger Deppe, and Harlan Highsmith sang “All in the April Evening,” a hymn Becky remembered was sung by the choir each spring at Walnut Street Church. Oleta Barrow performed as “Eski Honey.” Then Nada Jo Fuqua explained that thirty-five years ago she had been Eliza Doolittle, Terry had been Professor Higgens, and his mother was Mrs. Higgens in their Kentucky community's production of My Fair Lady. Then Nada Jo sang “Wouldn't It Be Loverly” followed by Terry's masterful rendition of “Hymn to Him.” Ernie Standerfer performed his famous “Sam Shovel” routine before group singing of fun songs led by Bob Barrow and Charlie Baker with Barb Eidson at the piano. (Thanks to Doris McCoy for use of her electric piano for two days and to Marc who probably carried it in and set it up.) Barb led us in singing “The Way We Were” before Bill Eidson gave the evening address on “Memories of BSU.”

Bill, who had a career teaching history at Ball State University in Indiana, told of being a first generation college student who was welcomed into Doyle Dorm, where he found encouragement and life long friends. A job in the cafeteria helped finances but included mashing huge quantities of potatoes with equipment sending up steam in his face that did not help him stay awake as he went on to his first history class. Being a diligent worker, he and his roommates decided one Saturday morning to really clean their room. They moved furniture out of the way and prepared a bucket of hot soapy water, which they then splashed on their floor. Two irate resident fellows from the room below them appeared quickly at their door complaining about the water coming down and putting out their ceiling light. I suspect they left floor cleaning to the janitor after that. Bill shared other memories, and then he encouraged the audience to share theirs and gave us categories to prompt us. People told how the inspiring Chester Swor visited noon day chapel and how other chapel services usually by students provided peace and support in the middle of the school day.

Not all memories were serious. Johnson Hall girls made some confessions including rolling coke bottles down the hall to upset a strict house mother. Another Doyle Dorm story was about the room that put a bucket of water over a door to plunge down on a planned victim. Instead President George Johnson showed up to invite one of the young men to supply the pulpit in an area church. These mighty nervous boys did not want Dr. Johnson to know of their mischief, but neither did they want him to find out by bumping the door. They escaped calamity when Dr. Johnson left unharmed, but the ministerial student had to make a trip to his office the next day to find out where and when that supply sermon was to take place.

It is always fun to hear stories of romance, and some were shared. My favorite was Delores “Dee” Barrow's telling of deserting her girl friends to sit by herself in the cafeteria hoping Tom Gwaltney would take the bait. Her plan worked, and they have had many years of marriage as a result. Someone remembered Bill Fulkerson and Carol Stuckey's unique story from last year. Bill climbed a tree, and when Carol walked under, he began a spooky rendition of Carol, Carol, Carol, Carol Stuckey. That plan worked also.

After many more memories were stirred, Bob Barrow and Carol Smith presented “Spirit of BSU” written by Archie Mosley and Bob Entrekin, our state BSU director who meant so much to many. The choir for the next day gathered to practice with Barb Eidson while the rest of us had a chance for a few more visits before we left for our homes or park cabins.

Memories of so many people and so many long ago events came into our minds during the evening that I figured if a neuroscientist had invented an instrument to record all the ding, ding, dinging in our brain cells, we would have probably exploded the thing with overloaded synapses as those rusty memory cells raced down neural pathways. Back at the farm, I was tired. I usually sleep well, but I was over stimulated from the evening and wondered if I could sleep. Fortunately, soon I was out of it. However, at 2 a.m., I am not sure if it was fortunate or unfortunate because memories surfaced and flooded my brain. Maybe I needed to remember those things. In a notebook filled with letters from those who could not make the reunion, I had read my Johnson Hall roommate Fay Eddings' note saying she could not come. Of course, she couldn't drive that far with neuropathy. My mind reviewed her successful Illinois career teaching Spanish among other things, and how I read about her being awarded newspaper faculty sponsor of the year. She told me once by phone about a mission trip to somewhere in South America and chatted excitedly about her participation in her local church and, yes, she still supports the Cardinals. She is now living with a niece who works for Asbury College in Wilmore, KY. That led me to thinking about our other roommate Alta Ruth Smith, who was one of the sweetest girls I ever knew. Her wardrobe was limited, but her closet was as neat as she was. I remembered her letter to me from the nursing home in my hometown when we were still fairly young asking me to let her come live with us, and I had to write that was not possible.

I thought I should go back to sleep. Silently I mentally said: Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. But instead I found myself recalling Warren Littleford. He had just graduated when I arrived, but I soon heard much about this football hero and passionate young preacher. Later he came for a revival at our chapel and I was able to hear him preach. He visited dorms, and I believe Dick Gregory, another campus standout, may have come to that revival. The only other off-campus speaker I remembered was a woman who had just been named Illinois mother-of-the-year. I am sure she gave us good advice on marriage and rearing children, but I only remember her saying as she sniffed her little nose that it was far better to be single than to be married to some people. I have quoted that on more than one occasion to a young woman. Noon day chapel gave many of us our first experience giving a devotional. I cringed as I remembered that for some odd reason I once chose to speak on Peter's and Judas' failures. While I have always identified and learned from Peter, I've remain puzzled by Judas. Certainly I was not theologically prepared to talk about Judas (then or now) , and I have no idea what I said about him in that devotional, which maybe is for the best.

Sleep, sleep, sleep I chanted again and again but I kept remembering dear long ago people. One BSU retreat at Giant City a gang of us went hiking with flashlights as we hiked through the streets between the giant rocks. Sitting on the lichen covered rocks, someone pointed a flashlight up the limbs of the nearest tree, and we had a spontaneous devotional service. The only one I can remember on that hike was the lateGail Crockett, who went by Dave after he came back from studying in France. He had a successful music career and once came back to Marion to live. Our daughter Katherine was blessed to take voice lessons from him. Gerald and I went to the open house for Dave and his bride, and they came out for dinner at the farm. Dave realized that as a child he had once come with his parents for a prayer meeting in that house. His twin Dale taught at Berea College in Kentucky and wrote a book while there. After retiring, he and wife Ruth (Bays) lived in Florida, and I caught up with them on the Internet. When they moved north, I lost tract again. Ruth asked me to write the story of their wedding for the society page in Marion's newspaper. Sleep, sleep, sleep.

I watched the clock go to 3 and to 4 and later. I am blessed that I can rest in bed awake and not hurt even though I get up stiff and in pain every morning. So I told myself to relax and enjoy the memories and that were probably from spots in my brain used for the first time in years. What a good mental exercise! Finally I fell asleep and woke with a strange dream when it was time to get dressed and hurry to Friday's reunion. Fortunately, Gerald knew a short cut through the country and we arrived in time for the coffee and breakfast goodies.

Tables were decorated with candles and autumn items given for our use by Ramona Ambrose, Sharon and Cal Reynolds' daughter. We returned to our same table with Doris and Marc and the Dungeys. Joe and Nellie Claxton of Mount Vernon had missed Thursday because of the Stanford funeral, and they joined us as did Joseph Hargis of Ellis Grove,who has retired from teaching in the Cobden high school and knew Gerald's cousins there.. The Claxtons had both Cobden and Grand Tower connections, so there was no shortage of conversation topics. They knew Elaine Dickson's and Jay Hauser”s parents, who were close friends of Gerald's parents. I am always fascinated by the web of connections that strangers often have.

The morning session started with more time for shared memories led by Marc and Lora Blacwell-Kern carrying the mikes. I loved Lora's stories of high school life in Carbondale. She did not go to teen town but rather played ping pong and hung out with BSUers at the Foundation. College students at Walnut Street Church shared after-service social time with the teens. Lora was our first leader to work with internationals at SIUC, and she later had a career teaching in Anna. She lives a nature-filled life on a farm at the end of a rural road near Anna. I visited her once to take books she had recruited at our reunions to send to other nations.

After the memory sharing, we worshiped with music led by Bob Barrow and Charlie Baker with Carol Smith at the piano. Barb Eidson and Carol gave us the reunion choir singing “Precious Memories” and the less familiar “And Can It Be.”

We were ready for Dr. Al Fasol's message. He talked a bit about his work encouraging young preachers in their careers and his emphasis on preparation. And then he told a story. One of his Doyle Dorm roommates was shot down over Viet Nam and was imprisoned there for five years and seven months until his release in March 1973. Tom was not a Christian and could not believe there was a God. When Tom was finally back home, they met and talked, but Al mostly listened because Tom needed to talk. Down through the years, they met up as often as possible, and Tom continued not believing. Al continued to talk, listen, explain, and encourage. Finally Tom came to believe there was a God; but after what he had experienced, he did not want anyone controlling him. So while he liked the part about being saved, he did not like the Jesus as Lord part. Years passed as the roommates stayed in touch. And then the day came when Tom decided to accept Jesus as his Lord and Savior. He and Al became brothers in Christ as well as dorm brothers.

After “Wonderful Grace of Jesus” was sung by Bob Barrows and Carol Smith, Ken Cannon led us in a short business meeting. The current reunion committee with co-chair couples, Ken and Jo Nell, Cal and Sharon Reynolds were retained, along with members Lora Blackwell-Kern,, Bob and Oleta Barrow, Marc McCoy, Carol Smith, and Gene and Ginger Wells. Ken invited anyone who wanted to join the committee for next year to do so. People discussed the pros and cons of meeting at Giant City rather than at a church. It was agreed to let the committee choose next year's location. Before we were dismissed to give those in park cabins time to check out, every woman was able to pick from the lovely colorful circle of flowers on a display table, and we learned these were actually a holder for a candle. Betty Arnold had made two tiny pumpkin flower arrangements as door prizes for each table.

A very good soup and sandwich lunch was served us in the public dining room at noon before we came back together for the final session. As Carol Smith played softly, Gene Wells led our memorial service honoring the names of those who died during the past year. People were invited to mention memories as names were announced. To conclude, Bob Barrow and Carol sang “Precious Memories.”

Finally we heard the afternoon address “Keep Making Memories” by Ginger Wells. In a short time,she presented much wisdom and inspiration encouraging us to keep engaged in service and life. I needed this since now that I am old and tired, I really do not relish change and new experiences as I used to. Ginger gave us practical suggestions on achieving new memories. She noted we might need to overcome shyness in new surroundings and be willing to make the first move. She told how as they left their beloved home and church here in Illinois and started a new life style, she and Gene determined they would make new friends and live life as fully as possible in Georgia. Proof of the value of that decision came when Gene received eight birthday cards from new friends. As we continue to age, we may have to be more open to change in order to keep making good memories.

It was time to go home, and Cal Reynolds led our closing prayer, Barb Eidson once more presented our theme song “The Way We Were” as the postlude. All that was left were goodbye hugs.

I felt reaching into the past and resurrecting old memories buried in my brains was helpful to my mental health. I liked hearinng others' good memories from BSU days. Remembering who I used to be perhaps makes me a little more knowledgeable of who I am today. I did make new friends and new memories at this year's reunion. Next year's reunion promises opportunity for making more.

Friday, September 23, 2016

Our Last Summer Visitor

Our last summer weekend was made special by a quick Friday-Saturday visit from our granddaughter Leslie from Nashville. Somehow her guitar had ended up at Woodsong for her to avoid taking it on a plane, and now she needed it. I was delighted she was coming to claim it with time for me to catch up with her life. It is invigorating to talk to young adults whose lives are full of activities, goals, and with years left ahead to achieve the goals. I am in the stage of life where I am crossing off goals and ambitions—not because they have been achieved but because they are no longer possible or sometimes even desirable. (For example, I always wanted to travel to Europe. It was a lifetime goal. Although I still wish I had done it, I would not now want to have to be at the airport at such and such a time. I no longer want to walk in strange foreign cities. Nor in American cities for that matter. I do not have that kind of energy or strong legs anymore.) But I love listening to stories my grandchildren tell me about their busy lives.

I love visualizing their travels and their careers and their fixing up of apartments and first homes. Vicarious living through real live people is much more satisfying than vicarious living through reading although that too is very pleasant. And, of course, if those real live people are ones you have watched from babyhood on, the interest and pleasure is even greater. So Gerald, Leslie,and I talked and heard about Mike's new career—he couldn't come because he is on day shift right now with the Nashville police. We heard about their plans for the renovation of the three upstairs rooms they have really not used in the three years they have lived in their first purchased home. I loved hearing about their interactions with kids driving in their neat neighborhood, close to heart of Nashville.

After staying up visiting a little later than usual, Gerald went on to bed Friday night, and Leslie was kind enough to continue our talking, which we also did on Saturday morning. She knew I would be interested in her planned trip to New York City to sing someone's song there at a conference. And, of course, I liked hearing about yet another interaction with someone connected to Hamilton. I believe it was the guy playing Thomas Jefferson who came to Nashville for some reason or other and she got to sing with him. And she knew I would be thrilled that the young man from Cairo, who was in the New York production, will now be playing the lead in Chicago. I am hoping on one of her trips to her hometown of Freeport, that she can get tickets for the Chicago show. Then she will have another story to tell me.

We both slept late Saturday morning and had breakfast coffee together as we talked. I fixed her one of our customary one-second eggs with her toast and told her to teach Mike so he can have an egg when she needs to sleep late on Saturdays and he is just coming in from work when he is on the night shift.

All too soon she had to get back on the road even though I had a new chicken recipe (pineapple marinade) cooking in the oven. Mike would be off work at 3 and they would go to lunch together then. She would use the driving time back to Nashville to think about the worship service songs she was to lead the next day.

I am grateful for today's young adults and love it when they share their modern ways of living with me. One reason I am not as fearful of the future as some are is because I respect and admire today's young adults. We are leaving some big problems for them to solve, and Gerald is concerned about that and so am I. I wish our generation had solved more problems—especially the national debt. Yet I suspect the newer adults will do better with those problems than we have.

Tuesday, September 06, 2016

Summer Almost Over

Tall corn stalks are now brown. As we drove our granddaughter Geri Ann over to see Garden of the Gods and to have supper on the river at Elizabethtown, we saw the first harvest going on just east of Harrisburg. A wagon load of shelled corn provided a golden bit of color along the highway where green leaves still dominate. Soon, however, a drive through Shawnee National Forrest will be multi-colored and we will exalt at its beauty, but being surrounded with the great greenness of summer is also a beautiful drive.

We have enjoyed Geri Ann's visit after she finished her first summer's professional softball with the Akron Racers. Her friend Cece had picked her up at the Saint Louis air port and brought her to the farm the next day. For over a week, Geri Ann was in and out of Woodsong while visiting her other grandmother and her Johnston City friends. Getting to help care for Cece's five-month-old Matthew was one of her special blessings, and helping Allison start looking for bridal finery was another.

Vickie, our daughter-in-law, arrived Thursday night at Woodsong in order to visit her mother and the rest of the Johnson family and to attend the Crab Orchard High School reunion of the 1975, 1976, and 1977 classes at the school multi-purpose room. We enjoyed seeing the posted photos of the teenagers we knew forty years ago. In my mind's eye, I still see them as they looked then, and some I recognized and others I did not. I liked hearing updates on them. Vickie really enjoyed visiting with her long-ago friends, and everyone was rightfully praising LaRonda, who has been so generous with her time and talent in arranging COHS get-togethers. Already she has been enlisted to plan another in two years for all the graduates in the 1970 decade. Gerry was disappointed he was unable to attend this one because A&M had a gathering of softball recruits during this weekend with the first football game of the season. Maybe he will be able to come two years from now.

Geri Ann was able to spend some weekend nights with the Taylors and enjoy Brianna and Trent being home from Murray and Southern Illinois University Carbondale. She even was initiated into the college sport of Quidditch which she and Bri attended at SIUC to watch Trent play. They had to explain this Harry Potter game to me as best they could even though the players use a substitute for brooms and do not actually fly like they did in the book.

Brian and Mary Ellen prepared a wonderful evening meal for us Labor Day Sunday, When Gerald and I stepped from our car, we were greeted by the smell of burgers Brian was cooking on the fire pit. Inside the table was set for an indoor picnic, and Mary Ellen and Brianna were busy with side dishes while we caught up with Trent on his life on a new campus. Vickie and Geri Ann were also scheduled to be there later after they finished the Johnson family's early celebration of Gma Shirley's birthday. Hearing the laughter and noise of the three cousins greeting each other for their second weekend was almost as pleasurable as the delicious food. Brian is busy preparing for harvest and Mary Ellen is busy with duties selling reality, so this holiday gathering was especially appreciated; and to top it off, Mary Ellen insisted on sending left-overs home with us for yesterday's lunch. Vickie and Geri Ann had left early yesterday morning to drive back to Texas, and we were grateful when we learned they were safely back home.

Even though I've had to face the fact that it has been 40 years since I was involved with COHS teenagers and that I can no longer safely climb the rocks at Garden of the Gods as I used to do, I can adjust to life's changes. While Gerald and Geri Ann went on down the rough rocky walk to see the view from higher places, I rested on a bench surrounded by tall pines and oaks and relished the sound and feel of the cool breeze after the previous week's 90 degree weather. The shorter sassafras had already dropped bright red leaves on the sidewalk at my feet to announce summer was coming to an end. A red bud had replaced beautiful spring blossoms with its still green heart-shaped leaves, but its limbs now contained brown seed pods insuring life would go on in the forest. Every season has its beauty, and so does this in-between season on the edge of autumn.

Thursday, August 18, 2016

More Comings and Goings

As I drove home from Katherine's, the brilliance of the full moon comforted me with its beauty, and I knew no matter how many miles apart all our loved ones are going to sleep soon under that same moon.

It was sad when grandson Sam pulled out of our driveway for the last time this summer. He'd packed up his stuff here a couple days before to go back to his home in Marion and also pack up his stuff there. He came out to say goodbye to Gerald, who happened to be at the other farm. Sam needed to be at the high school shortly for his end-of-the-summer job helping out with the marching band's preparation for its fall schedule. So they had to say goodbye by phone.

Sam had been in and out of Woodsong a lot this summer, and that meant occasionally we also were able to see his sweet friend Anna. After he finished his first summer job, he'd already taken one car load of possessions back to Waco earlier when he went down to see friends, talk with his academic adviser, and attend a music pastor's concert near Dallas. Then he'd taken off with a couple of high school buddies for a camping trip in the West. Then we again enjoyed his time with us a few more weeks. With all the rain reports the day he left for his second year at Baylor, his mother was concerned, but she felt a lot of confidence that all would be well since Anna's family was traveling to the same destination at the same time.

That very day our son Gerry arrived for an unusual amount of time—a four day visit. He had come to visit his friend Shannon in the hospital at Saint Louis; and between the two trips up there, he crammed in as many visits to local friends as he could. We loved having him here, of course, and hearing his stories and reports on his friends' doings.

On Sunday we decided to attend church with Mary Ellen and Brian to share Gerry and also so we could see Brianna who had just come in the afternoon before from her summer working at Disney Land in Orlando. Trent had flown down to help her drive back with all her stuff. Somehow after they arrived home, Mary Ellen and Bri had shopped and not only found the perfect headboard for her apartment down at Murray, but it was already repainted Saturday night, and Mary Ellen had put on a top coat of something yet that very morning! They were taking Bri to move in that afternoon, and Bri would be starting classes on Tuesday. Despite the afternoon move ahead of the Taylors, we six had a relaxed dinner together after church, and Gerry regaled us with his series of stories about a coyote road kill. (You do not want to know.)

The next day Gerry went back to Saint Louis for another visit with Shannon, and Tuesday morning he and his dad were up early for their trip to have breakfast with Gerry's uncles and cousins in Jonesboro before Gerry started his long trek back to Texas. His truck was loaded with sweet corn from the Taylors and cantaloupes from Gerald's garden as well as one of his watermelons, which unlike the cantaloupes have not been plentiful this summer. Now Gerald is relishing photos and messages about the great grandsons enjoying them.

Gerald and I are looking forward to Geri Ann's visit after she completes her first summer of professional softball. She called us from Alabama last night where the Ohio Racers are in tournament. We are looking forward to Vickie's visit too when she comes to pick Geri Ann up for a Texas visit before she has to start her last terms at Oregon. Sadly Gerry will not be able to come back with Vickie as originally planned, and he has to miss his high school reunion because of coaching duties with a gathering of recruits that same weekend.

Today is Gerry and Vickie's 37th wedding anniversary, and I loved seeing their wedding photo posted on Facebook. In some ways it seems only yesterday that they were that beautiful young couple in white tux and bridal dress leaving their reception at the school's multi-purpose room for a honeymoon on the Gasconade River in Missouri. But three adult daughters and those three grandsons make us realize it was not yesterday, and we are grateful for all the blessings.

Also on Facebook, I learned today was the day that the Taylors moved Trent into his new apartment at Carbondale to complete his education at Southern Illinois University, where he will be a fifth generation Saluki. His great grandfather rode his horse there every week and boarded before riding back to Goreville for the weekend. And the same moon shone on him that we enjoy tonight.

Wednesday, August 03, 2016

Comings and Goings

Just as June was a blur, July continued to often cause me to catch my breath to clear my head. It was exciting when Jeannie and Rick came through for a good evening visit and bringing us some of Rick's honey from his Wisconsin hives, and showing the maps that taught me the Mississippi River extends way beyond New Orleans into the Gulf. They left the next morning before we were even out of bed. (I am guessing maybe 4 a.m.) They were eager to reach Louisiana to start the last leg of their goal for Jeannie to ride her bicycle the complete Mississippi River Trail. Earlier this spring they had done Mississippi and crossed over the bridge at Natchez to Vidalia. As her coach, Rick has gallantly and with bated breath watched her ride in Canada and now to the lowest part of the Mississippi River on crowded highways, darkening lonely ones, rough graveled trails, and scary bridges. They have endured hot weather, cold weather, rain, and unkind winds and irritated motorists.

Another night I was coming home down our lane after a late evening helping Katherine, and I saw vehicle lights heading my way. When the lights suddenly swooped around and headed back, I should have guessed Gerry, but he was not known to be anywhere near us. But there he was walking around the end of the garage when I got to the house. (Gerald had texted me Gerry was here, but somehow the text had not gone through.) He gave me a hug and explained he had recruited for two or three days and now he had done his laundry at our house for the next round of recruiting. We had a good visit; and for some reason, I assumed he'd spend the night. But, no, he was back on the road to head to Saint Louis to be there early the next morning for a friend's very serious surgery. Shannon made it, and Gerry continued recruiting.

Since she lives near us, Mary Ellen often drops in and out unexpectedly when she is in the neighborhood on the way to a client or to see someone visiting here or to bring us one of her great meat loafs. When she was expressing a bit of concern about having to climb up to the second floor of an abandoned building in a nearby village, Gerald decided he would go along. He reported her trepidation was well founded in his opinion. Hopefully the new owner is on his way to successfully reclaim the building's usefulness.

When our granddaughter Erin realized her schedule was clear of her travel ball coaching duties and her military husband was called to California for a few days, she headed to Illinois. She had missed seeing some dear ones when she was here in June. She especially regretted not getting to see her friend Candace's twins on their third birthday. She not only had a good visit with us and her other relatives, but this weekend visit she was able to spend catch-up time with Candace. On Sunday afternoon before she left, we were treated too when Candace brought the twins to the farm. Gerald gave them a “fishing” and boating experience. (If I understood it, the adults caught the fish and the Jamison and Mathison caught them with their hands from the bottom of the boat and threw them back in the lake.) I was home from Katherine's when they came inside to holler “Gma Sue Gma Sue!” and want to play and explore the house with me. In our crowded tornado shelter, of course, they immediately found two badminton rackets and headed back upstairs. By the time I got up there, one boy was asking me for his and I could not see it anywhere. Two days later, I saw both neatly placed by their mother on the fireplace mantel out of view. With curly blondish locks, they are absolutely adorable but all boy, and I knew exactly why Candace hid the racquets. It was several more days before I thought to have Gerald get down the diet soda carton that Erin wisely placed on the very top of the kitchen cabinets to solve that problem when they were snacking in the kitchen.

One of my favorite summer visits was from Trent and his friend Rachael from New Jersey. They had first come while I was at Katherine's, so Trent called the next day and made an appointment because he knew I wanted to meet this young woman with the beautiful red hair—my favorite hair color. These two and Brianna have been friends since childhood via some game on the Internet that was safely monitored for kids. They kept in touch through an alumni group or something. A couple of summers ago, Trent was treated to a week in New York City visiting Rachel's parents and grandparents. And now Rachael has experienced farm life in rural Southern Illinois.

Our July visits were completed by Jeannie and Rick's return from their successful mission. We loved hearing their stories and were grateful Jeannie made it safely through New Orleans by going very early during day-break hours. They stayed with us a couple of nights, but Jeannie was still enjoyed her return to riding form, so she had to ride 93 miles to Carbondale and around to get her fix the day in between the night-time visits. With her last summer's cancer delay, we were filled with awe and delight that the Mississippi River journey is complete and that now she is riding Freeport trails with relish until the school year begins and she must return to work. Rick actually started work on Monday with the annual math review that some high school kids elect to take before the formal school year starts.

Saturday, July 16, 2016

Too Much Going On

     Standing on the deck with feisty tiny hummingbirds buzzing near me, I looked across the lake where the wild geese rest in water near the edge of the island shaded by leafy trees overhead. The hot summer air in front of me is filled with young martins gliding in circles while their shadows on the grass below create a duet of grace. I enjoy a moment of calm and peace and hope it stays that way for awhile.
      I had thought that once our anniversary celebration was over that the summer would suddenly be lazily unencumbered with plans or conflicting duties. Not so. The first two weeks of July flew by with needs, responsibilities, and appointments bumping into each other.
      My wristwatch that I felt so smug about quickly replacing with a new battery quit again after two weeks. I really like my inexpensive watch because I can clearly see the time easily, but I guess I need to go back and replace it with more than a battery. I avoid that huge store because I have to park so far away that I once got lost trying to find my car. And once inside the store, there is much more walking to find anything.
      Since my watch quit working, I tried to carry my cell phone more to be able to check the time. When I had pockets that was not a problem; but once when I didn't, I carelessly dropped it and it fell into two pieces. Yes, it was one of the old ones with a little cover. I resisted everyone's suggestion I might need to replace it with a more modern cell phone because I knew how to answer it, make calls, and text. There were some uses I never had bothered to learn, but I sure did not want to figure out a new phone. 
     That breakage, however, required another trip to the mall at the other side of town, where the phone store has limited parking and a long wait. There I found out the clerk had to call Gerald for his permission for me to replace my phone. I listened as she explained there was a $40 upgrade fee but became somewhat embarrassed as she incorrectly told him I'd said he had wanted me to get one of the 99 cent phones. I explained to her afterwards that he had not said I was to get the 99 cent phone, but that was my desire. I had two choices and chose the one with a pull out screen that I hope makes texting a mite quicker.   
        However, the store was out of that one, so I am waiting for it to be delivered and then I will need to either follow directions to set it up or go back to the store and they will kindly and gladly do it for me. Since I am a poor at understanding directions, I suspect I will need to make another trip back to the other side of town once my new cell arrives. I had no trouble parking the other day, but I had a scare when a big truck almost backed into me as I exited. I took comfort that at least it would have been his fault if he had not seen me in time.
      On yet another day, I had finally made the needed appointment to get my eyes checked—at the same mall on the other side of town. I found out the reason I kept thinking my left lens was dirty was that a cataract on my left eye needed to be corrected. Now I've made that appointment for August—the earliest they can take me. There have been a couple of appointments to keep current on my INR level, which I am conscientious about after two hospitalizations in past years for pulmonary embolisms. Now I need to make a check-up visit with the dermatologist since I found out it had been three years when I checked my files.
      The worst summer busyness, however, resulted from serious health threats to loved ones. All three of our brothers had serious problems. Gerald couldn't go see Keith while he was in the hospital because Gerald was fighting an infection himself. The other two brothers both received good enough reports that they did not have to be hospitalized, and Gerald is feeling good again. Katherine, however, had to spend ten days in the hospital at Carbondale to take care of two serious infections and other issues. By the time she returned home, her already short staff was decreased by one, so I needed to go to her home each evening. After many phone calls, texts, and interviews, she thinks she again has a full staff. So today I am not leaving the farm.
      I am using all this busyness as my excuse and not blaming (or admitting) my age caused me to get mixed up on the time for a dentist appointment in Carbondale. Gerald kindly took me for the appointment and dropped me off saying he would complete our recycling job. I had filled the trunk because we like the center in Carbondale where you can recycle all items at once from paper to cans, glass, etc. Our plan after the appointment was to drive down to Keith and Barbara's in rural Union County since Keith had gotten home from the hospital the day before. Imagine my embarrassment when I found out my appointment had been that morning not that afternoon.
      Yes, the office had called me and reminded me, but I either misheard or just got mixed up. I phoned Gerald to come back for me as soon as he was through recycling, and I have to brag on him for not being the least unpleasant about my mental failure. In fact, as we left in the direction of Keith's, he pointed out we were on the same street our friends Rich and Ann Lipe live on. He commented that I'd been wanting to see them, so why not stop and see if they were home! We had a wonderful long neglected visit with the Lipes before going on down and having another good visit with Keith and Barbara. We stopped in Marion for supper and took a bite by Katherine's to feed her supper and give her night pills.
      These time-consuming irritants and obligations and worry for ourselves and family members are small in comparison to the heart-rending news we have heard on television this month. The gun violence and the resulting weeping fill the screen. Once again someone with serious mental problems, increased by his association with hate groups, went on a shooting spree and took five of our finest police, who had just stood with peaceful protesters. We hold our breath to see how things go with Britain out of European Union. And now we hear about the uprising in Turkey, and we feel concern as to how that will affect our fight against ISIS. We worry about the slaughter in Syria. We experience the need to turn the television back on to find out the latest development and at the same time a reluctance to possibly hear of yet another tragedy.
      I am grateful to be able to look out occasionally and watch three bright yellow finches who have finally found the net holding seeds for them there. I am grateful for all the flowers piled in sympathy on the police cars in Dallas. I am grateful for the ten-year-old who wants to become a policeman someday because his mother who shielded him was shielded by a policeman. I am grateful for the wisdom-filled words of grief-stricken15-year-old son whose father was shot by police. I am grateful for those who risk criticism and danger to remind us that black lives matter. And for those who include black lives when they say all lives matter. I am grateful for Chief David Brown and his good thinking and quiet leadership under duress and for his faith that he so naturally shared with the nation. I am grateful for President Bush and President Obama who stood in unity condemning gun violence and encouraging us to become a better nation.