Between the Holidays

The snowman the kids built on the deck has melted away along with all the snow on the hillsides where the sledding took place. But the photographs and the memories still exist.
The Christmas tree lights are shining brightly, and I will continue to feast my eyes on them until after New Year’s Day. Christmas cards continue to dribble in, and I have more time to enjoy them than I did the earlier more numerous daily offerings.

Tired of left overs, tonight I fried the quail Gerry had put in our freezer some months back. With a can of biscuits along with quail gravy, supper was a success when Gerald got back from Cape where he had been shopping for a new front door.

Earlier he had taken his latest version of a wheelchair footrest pad to Katherine’s house and replaced the pre-Christmas one. I had not realized it was the new pad itself that prevented the footrest from being turned up when needed. (I thought the new leg pad prevented that and was, thus, left off.) The pre-Christmas one was definitely an improvement with air bubbles in the middle so Kate could not feel the metal edges with her feet. She had bragged so on the improvement on Christmas Day about the first one that I thought it was just the behind-her-legs pad that had yet to be improved.

But the material on the one Gerald finished today is made of a smoother material and had some feature to allow the footrest to be turned up as it is supposed to be when needed. Now he is going to make the pad behind her legs of the same smooth material. David and Gerald have both made pads in the past and tried various wrappings; and although they helped at the time, they would eventually wear out and the problem remained.

Multiple sclerosis makes every touch and every movement felt much more intensely and painfully than sensations feel for those of us who still have myelin protecting our nerves. A too hard touch or a heavy hand on a swollen ankle can cause harsh pain. A too gentle touch can cause a tickle that is maddening to the patient—and that can sometimes be helped by rubbing hard on the tickle. Pain is invisible and so is hard for the rest of us to even begin to fathom.

I don’t dare try to fathom it. In order to function, I have to not allow myself to empathize too much with that pain, but leg spasms are not invisible, and there is no ignoring them. Learning to break up a spasm is a challenging task since what works one time does not necessarily work the next time. The stiffness that can come in just a second is almost incredible even though you are witnessing it. Katherine had a Tysabri infusion at the hospital yesterday, so we are hoping she will in better shape by tomorrow. The day after the infusion is usually needed for rest. Katherine is my hero for the way she endures this imprisoning disease as cheerfully as she does.

We are following our kids’ and grandkids’ between-holidays activities with the comments and photos they put on Facebook. Soon the ones who traveled south will be coming back by the farm on their way home to work and their 2011 responsibilities. And later Leslie in northern Illinois will be coming south to return to her Tennessee campus.

Like the rest of the nation, I feel very bad for those who spent their holidays locked into airports without many comforts and missing out on their planned family visits and festivities. I feel concern for those still living and struggling on unplowed streets. I hope the sheer danger and difficulty they have lived through gives them the needed adrenaline and that the challenges give them the grit to recover and face the new year even stronger despite the terrible holiday disappointments.

The Quiet After the Storm

The house almost seems spooky quiet when the last of the families leave after a holiday season. Gerald took off soon after the Archibald family and Gerry and Vickie and Geri Ann left to stop by a few minutes at Gma Shirley’s on down the road to say goodbye before they all drive on to Georgia.

Brian is on vacation this week, so after celebrating with his family up north, the Archibalds left Aurora early Sunday morning and arrived at noon in the village of Cambria at Erin’s new rented place for her first holiday hosting. Gerald and I were invited over, but it was good for their family to have some together time with less competition to hold those three little boys.
So Sam, Gerald, and I had lunch together here at Woodsong after church before Sam and I headed back to his house for my Sunday afternoon visit with Katherine. I hope Gerald got a nap in after we left, because later in the afternoon the Glasco-Archibald group came back for more sledding on one of the hillsides here. On Christmas Day after our afternoon dinner, everyone had done the same--except for Erin, Katherine, and I. We preferred to watch the snow falling outside the window while we visited. The sledders could imagine how much fun those little guys were going to have sledding when they arrived, and the photographs proved them correct.

Aidan and Maddux both throw themselves into any activity with laughing gusto, and Maddux was delighted to have a new ride to add to all the “tractor” rides that Gpa Gerald provides. It was amazing how much Maddux’s vocabulary had grown since he was here at Thanksgiving. Maybe having that second birthday did it for him. Baby Payton was crawling on all fours since the last visit rather than “swimming” as he did before. He isn’t talking yet at nine months, but he jabbers happily and smiles most of the time. I think he is understanding most of what is being said to him.

The Archibalds didn’t open our presents until this morning, and it was satisfying to see how much Aidan and Maddux liked the inexpensive tiny shiny little lock boxes and little lamps we gave them. I remember writing in a journal a couple decades ago how much their mother Tara appreciated gifts and never grew blasé despite our concern that she may have had too many toys, just as most kids do since the Great Depression ended.

With so many living grandparents—something many of us never had—it seems almost impossible to keep toys held down to a reasonable amount. But I notice modern parents are good to pass on outgrown toys these days. My own dolls and toys and my children’s toys were scarce enough that they were usually too worn out to pass on.

When I used to visit parents in housing projects, I always saw plenty of toys inside and out of the homes. I know there are plenty of American children who may not get many toys for Christmas; but with the help of angel trees and the work of various groups that collect toys. it is usually possible for diligent parents (if not too sick to ask for toys for their children) to provide some presents under their trees. And toys need not be expensive for children to learn from them and have fun with them. The play with the boxes the toys come in always proves that. The bath toys at our house are all collected plastic odds and ends, and I have been pleasantly surprised at how much the kids enjoy them.

Gerald was heading to get his truck serviced since the manager said it was a slow day at the shop, and then he was going to explore Calico Country for materials. He spent a lot of thought and energy before Christmas trying to figure out how to alleviate some of the pain-causing footrest problems that Katherine’s chair has. His research and development efforts did pay off on the footrest itself, but the pad behind her legs did not work out. So he is determined to keep trying to solve this.

Erin gave me two new books for Christmas, so while the house is quiet, I think I will go enjoy.

Perfect Moments

Our youngest daughter, Mary Ellen, wrote something on Facebook that has really helped me this season: "There's no such thing as a 'perfect life,' but there are such things as 'perfect moments.' And I appreciate each and every one of them!" I asked her on the phone if she created this thought, and she said no she had heard it several times. I had not heard it nor thought it through on my own before. And I thought it so profound that I am going to share it with you.

Mary Ellen and her family are soon going to be driving down for supper and to spend the night and tomorow here before they leave for Florida on Sunday to go see Brian's mother. She brought three wonderful casseroles for Thanksgiving Eve supper, so I would not have to cook two days in a row. Although they were delicious, we were unable to half finish them. So I froze them. We will be having them tonight again when the Taylors get here. I am looking forward to them. So I am not having to think about cooking. Gerry and Vickie have been here since Tuesday, but they are eating with the Johnson Clan tonight, and David and Katherine and Sam are celebrating with the Cedar family. Our family Christmas dinner will be tomorrow. We will all be together except for Jeannie's family and grandaughter Tara's family both in northern Illinois. Jeannie's Leslie keeps us updated with remarks and photos on Facebook, so it is almost like having them around. I am enjoying sharing their holiday. I wish they were here--but I am glad they are having time to enjoy one another without that terrible drive down.

I can't believe I am having time to blog on Christmas Eve. Every time I have thought this fall I might be caught up, something happened. Thjs week I lost a day because I woke up with itching wrists one morning. Cream for another purpose stopped the itch--but when I went to bed late that night, I had whelps and rash all over me from the neck down. Some kind of allergic reaction--maybe from the face moisturizer I had applied to Katherine the day before. A predisone shot, and lots of meds, which I will be taking for days yet, got the situation in check pretty quickly. I was so grateful I did not have shingles since the rash circled my waist. I felt free as a bird when I left the doctor's office--one of those "perfect moments" to appreciate. Katherine had shingles recently and I had been so smug that because I had paid $200 for a shot a couple years ago I did not catch them. Then I thought my pride had brought my fall--and what was I going to do with all these loved ones--including the babies coming to our house during Chirstmas??? So I was really filled with gratitude and appreciated just having an allergic reaction. Funny how I appreciated my good health more after being covered with a rash than I would have if I had not had anything wrong.

If you are still Christmas shopping, let me share another Facebook quote that Tammy Morris Waters, a Southern Illinois writer, shared: Reposting this wonderful quote I just read: "Christmas gift suggestions: To your enemy, forgiveness. To an opponent, tolerance. To a friend, your heart. To a customer, service. To all, charity. To every child, a good example. To yourself, respect."
~ Oren Arnold

Tammy posted an article on and it is an important one on bullying. Let me share it if I can. (I do not do well with figuring out how to do things mechanical. I almost never figured out how to start the windshield wiper on our new car this morning. I tried and tried to no avail. I stayed in the parking lot and got out the book--and it made no sense. Right before I panicked, I pushed the lever the right way. I long for the days when engineers were smart enough to use simple instructions like "off" and "on" and not confusing symbols. These new engineers are evidently not as competent as the ones a few decades ago. Ah well.

Here is Tammy's article, I hope: Is There Life After Bullying? - Associated Content from Yahoo! - associatedcontent.com

www.associatedcontent.com

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, Everyone!

Almost Christmas and Rosemary's Birthday

Cards are all sent, both trees are aglow, all the decorations I plan to put up are up, but the pies still aren’t made. I cannot find the pumpkin pulp in either freezer. I know it is there, but we had so many left-overs from Thanksgiving that somehow I have covered up the pumpkin. I may have to buy canned pumpkin when I go to town tomorrow. I did make one pan full of bar cookies today—the first cookies I have made since I made some for the Women’s Club at the first of the month.

Erin had flown down to Georgia this weekend to help her dad and Geri Ann in a softball camp, and she and Geri Ann drove up last night in Geri Ann’s car. (Erin’s car and dog Sadie were here at the farm.) It was almost 2 a.m. when they arrived here this morning, so we were glad to find them sleeping here when we woke up this morning. Erin had to go to work, so she and Sadie were off fairly early although she did delay a bit after Gerald told her he wanted to wash the salt off her car when he used the high-pressure washer on his truck.

Geri Ann had a well-deserved opportunity to sleep in before she took off to have lunch with her friend C.C. and to go to her cousin Drew’s away game tonight and then on to Crainville to spend the night with Erin at Erin’s house.

When I sat down to blog awhile ago before midnight, I realized as I had early this morning that today is my sister’s birthday and I had not phoned her yet! I knew her card would not have reached her yet in far-off Amarillo, because when I got ready to send it last week, I could not find it. I had bought a special card weeks ago, and it has been on top of the dining room buffet waiting.

Alas, it had disappeared when I was ready to mail it. (I found it today when I put up the last of the Christmas cards off the dining room table. It has been covered up so well that even though I looked there, I did not see it.) So I sent her a substitute non-birthday card I had saved for her in the distant past because of the roses on the front. (Her name is Rosemary, and we usually call her Rose or Rosie.) The envelope for this substitute card was missing, but I found a substitute envelope that worked even though not perfectly. But this was a few days after I intended to mail her card. Since I still haven’t mailed her little birthday gift, I will just enclose the real birthday card with that.

With all this forgetfulness going on, I did not want to also neglect the usual birthday phone call. Fortunately, Rose and her husband Phil are night owls and don’t go to bed until 1 a.m. or so. So I am just not back to blogging after a good birthday talk with my sister.

I learned all the latest news of their very large and complicated extended family created by their adopting four daughters long ago. Philip Todd is still in Iraq (again—many times), and his wife Jennifer and son Philip Ray had come down from Colorado Springs for a pre-Christmas visit in Amarillo before she goes back to spend Christmas Eve with her mother. They were at Rosie and Phil’s most recent weekly Friday night supper for all the gang who wants to come. Shiloh had brought his date and introduced her to the family that night. Katelynn, Ty’s daughter by his first marriage, was in town to visit with her Gpa Herman and Gloria, so she was there with them. And on and on.

It is always fun to hear about all their great grandkids who love to play together at Phil and Rosie’s—just as their parents used to do. Rosemary said today she had practiced saying, “I am 85,” but it still seemed unreal to her. It is unreal to me too since she goes to Tai Chi twice a week, teaches at an after-school Good News Club once a week, plays the organ every Sunday and Wednesday at church, and on and on.

Rosie has always been my mentor and inspiration, and she continues to set a standard I will never live up to. She was eight when I was born, so she loved lugging me around, our mother told me. When I was in grade school, she was off to college, but came home on the weekends and led our children’s group at church on Sunday nights, and she was always giving us parties at our house. When I was in high school, she was still my confidant and gave me good advice. Sometimes in my journals, I have called her my mother-sister because she has always been there for me.

I am glad Phil cooked her a special breakfast this morning of two strips of bacon and egg, toast, apple butter and coffee—all prepared just the way she likes them. She needed that substantial breakfast for energy to enjoy all the cards, visits, and phone calls that kept her busy all day continuing through my near-midnight call.

Weather Outside is Frightful

High winds after a Sunday of falling snow caused schools in our area to be called off today. Our pastor said yesterday that he wondered about calling off morning services, but he was glad he didn’t since most people made it. The director of our children and youth program yesterday afternoon wrote on Facebook that the crowd was bigger than usual, so the decisions not to cancel were correct. It is always difficult to know.

Gerald took me in the pickup into Marion to see the Cedars yesterday afternoon, and it was slick getting in and out of their house just as it had been at church. (But our pastor was out helping us safely inside at church, and Gerald did the same for me at the Cedars.)

It was exciting to open the Southern Illinoisan yesterday and see a front-page story and photograph of Hua-Ling Hu holding her new book The Undaunted Women of Nanking. When this busy season is over, I am going to settle down and concentrate on these diaries of this Illinois missionary and her Chinese assistant as they worked together with grit and pure moral courage and saved the lives of many women and children in Nanking. This new book with their translated diaries is available through the University Press at Southern Illinois University, Barnes and Noble, and, of course, amazon.com.

I stayed inside today and enjoyed looking out the windows at the beauty there while I felt snug and cozy. Despite the cold, actually the roads were better today than yesterday. (Our driveway had drifted last night but snow was blown the rest of the way off by this morning,)

Granddaughter Erin said she had no problems on our roads when she came over to pick up her dog Sadie. Gerald has been dog sitting while she went to the coaches’ convention at San Diego. Since Sadie would ride with him or walk with him to the mailbox, Gerald grew fond of her. Although Sadie is a house dog at Erin’s, she was seemingly quite content to sleep in Gerald’s shop, and she absolutely loved playing in the snow and running around the farm.

I had the downstairs tree in the family room decorated last week, and Saturday night Gerald put together the new pre-lit tree for the upstairs living room that we bought that day at Paducah. I had replaced the downstairs tree with a pre-lit one last year and was determined to do the same upstairs this year. The stores were already out of some of the advertised trees. (Erin got the old tree with its strings of lights for her house.)

Today while I listened to the music of Susan Boyle, I put the ornaments and the roses on the new tree. I set up the manager scene the Taylors gave us one year, and put batteries in the clock that plays carols that the neighbors gave us in 2003. I have wreaths on three doors and a couple more to go. Maybe tomorrow I’ll get the rest of the decorations out of the big boxes sitting in the guest room and place them. Most are gifts from previous years and so they carry memories.

Gerald put the first batch of cards in the mail for me today when he went to a doctor’s appointment. But that annual correspondence project has just barely been started. The dining room table is awash with envelopes, stamps, et cetera, and it will probably stay that way for awhile. It does every year. And sometimes I finish up the job after Christmas. When cards have come back because of wrong addresses, I have sent them out with another catch-up note in July.

I had hoped to start baking and freezing the Christmas pies this week. We’ll see. I’ll be going to town tomorrow. Sam has a mid-day orthodontist appointment, and I need to buy some Christmas cards and more stamps. So pie making may not start until Wednesday—if even then. I learned a long time ago that what I want to do but don’t get done will not really matter on Christmas Day.

Once Again

Once again, Dear Abby printed a letter accusing those of us who write annual Christmas letters of being egotistical, boring, etc. One part of her advice was on target, however: Just toss them if you don’t like them. If you are a decent friend, you will not pick apart a friend’s efforts and make fun of them behind their backs or to their face.

I always get tickled that Abby, who presumes she has wise answer for multiple problems of other people, thinks it is egotistical for someone else to share news about his/her family. Ah well. I am glad for the advice columnists, but I am also very grateful for those who love me enough to share the news about themselves that I am longing to know.

I understand that some people do not have the time, energy, nor desire to share their lives with others and simply send greetings. I appreciate those lovely cards and the thoughts and efforts behind them. But even more, I love the cards that include a letter telling me what is going on in their lives and news about their children and people I care about. These letters keep me connected and aware of what is happening in others’ lives. I like to read them when they come in and re-read them on New Year’s Eve and maybe once or twice during the year as I think about those people and their families.

Although there are years when I have felt I needed to share sadnesses and troubles and have done so, I usually try to write only about the good things in our lives. That is what I also usually do in my blog posts. Some people consider that bragging. That is ok with me. I feel it is merely appreciating and sharing the blessings that come our way. I know it is better for my mental health to concentrate on the good things even as I struggle with many many problems and heart aches.

I have never wanted folks to think that our life on the farm was idyllic and free of strain and grief. I also know that sharing struggles often helps people too, so sometimes I am even generous enough to share the bad things of my life. The Bible says we need to rejoice with those that do rejoice and to weep with those who weep. Christmas letters are one way to allow people to do so.

So thank you to everyone who will send me a letter this Christmas, and below is my gift to you. If you don’t have time to read it, don’t feel guilty. If you don't like Christmas letters, don't get mad--just don't read it. Just enjoy it if you want to review our year with us:

Woodsong Christmas 2010

Dear Friends and Relatives:

Thanks to Bryan and Tara Archibald, our third great grandchild was born March 7, and this beautiful smiley baby is named Payton Dean. His two big brothers--Aidan, age 4 ½, and Maddux, age 2--are fascinating to him and they seem to like him too. Bryan continues work as an architect, and Tara keeps their Aurora home and three sons well cared for with his help. She also cares for a friend’s baby girl and manages Southern Force 16U softball team, which requires a lot of traveling but also allows her to see her parents and Geri Ann frequently.

Gerry and Vickie are still at Watkinsville, Georgia, where Geri Ann, an Oconee High School junior, was just chosen as Class AAA pitcher of the year and a member of the all-state first softball team. Vickie amazes us with all she does including caring for Jerry and Lu Champer’s adorable Mia and a neighbor’s little boy, Matthew, during the week. She gets in lots of grandmothering with Tara’s three boys. Georgia Bulldogs Softball went into the semi-finals at the Women’s College World Series at Oklahoma City again last May. We were there to cheer them on, and afterward we drove down to Amarillo to visit my sister Rosemary and husband Phil and their families.

After her graduation from Texas A&M, Erin spent several weeks with her family in Watkinsville doing softball camps for University of Georgia and getting ready for her summer in Europe, where she played for the Austrian Sharx. She was with her family again after her return until she became assistant softball coach at Southern Illinois University Carbondale. She and her dog Sadie now live in a small house in Cambria, which she is renting from Brad Boyd, a Crab Orchard alum. We think that is kinda neat!

Only one of our four families has stayed in the area--Katherine, David, and Sam Cedar. David is still with General Dynamics, and Katherine is still battling multiple sclerosis. Sam is in the eighth grade and one handsome guy in his tux when he plays trombone with the symphonic band,. He recently attended the junior high IMEA all-state festival at Edwardsville, is active in his youth group and plays basketball with his church league, and is on the Scholar Bowl team.

Granddaughter Leslie can break up her trip to Freeport from Belmont University in Nashville, TN, by stopping over night with the Cedars as well as with us at Woodsong. Les is a junior now and works in the health department office and as a resident fellow in her dorm. Music and church activities and a certain guitar player with red hair keep her schedule full. She coached music and drama last summer at the Barefoot Republic camp in Kentucky. Gerald took her to Texas last spring to visit seminaries and they also visited Don and Helen Ruth Dillow, Bobby Sanders, and Erin at College Station.

The Eilers of Freeport--Jeannie, Rick, Elijah, and Cecelie--stay busy. Rick heads the high school math department, coaches track, and runs daily. Jeannie teaches art in fifth to eighth grades and is on her bike whenever possible. Elijah had the lead again in this year’s musical How to Succeed in Business without Really Trying. Bryan and Mary Ellen, Trent, Brianna, us, and Sam were all able to attend. Afterwards, Lige began speech contests. Cecelie, our youngest grandchild and family violinist, is in sixth grade now and keeps up very well with her older cousins. Last spring Brianna and we saw Cecelie singing in her first musical and attended Elijah’s Freeport High School thirtieth annual Showtime also.

The Taylors, near Watkinsville, also keep busy. Bryan continues to do a great job farming our land and works for Stone Seed Company, north of Springfield. Mary Ellen stays busy with real estate, homemaking, and band parent activities as well as chauffeuring, counseling, commiserating, and cheering on Trent and Brianna and Lincolnwood High School friends. Trent, a senior, is a whiz at computer and Internet and is teaching himself to weld--with Gpa Gerald’s help. A sophomore, Brianna is an academic and clarinet success. Their band also went to IMEA all-state festival but at Charleston. She especially loves to write--but much to my delight, all of our grandchildren are writers.

As you can see from this letter, the children and grandchildren and their activities are what make this season and my life bright, I write about them frequently in Woodsong Notes, my twice-a-week blog. (I am also trying to write some Martin family history.) I was very proud of myself that I drove up to see Elijah in the lead of Enter Laughing visiting the Taylors on the way up and back and being able to attend Brianna’s band concert. Afterward I drove over to Mattoon and had a great visit with Jim and Vivian, my brother and wife.

Trent, Elijah, Sam, Brianna, and I all worked in Vacation Bible School at Center. Cecelie was the only one young enough for class this year, but Aidan has already informed me he is coming to VBS next summer! Geri Ann couldn’t be here that week, but she and some softball friends stopped over for a couple of days, so we had company 14 days straight in July.

Everyone came at the same time during the Thanksgiving holidays. (Thank goodness for the Taylor camper and the Cedars living in Marion because beds and couches were full!) We had a wonderful time despite the fact that 15 of 23 of us caught stomach flu. We won’t forget this Thanksgiving.

Gerald stays busy not only taking care of our lawn and garden and acreage around the house but occasionally helping Scott next door and sometimes helping Brian move machinery or clean up ditches or roadsides. He has made softball tees for Gerry, Tara, and Erin’s use in clinics and coaching. One of his busiest jobs is taking Maddux and Aidan on tractor, “mule,“ and lawn mower rides. Maddux made sure of that with constant pleas for “Tractor!Tractor!Tractor!“ Most of the year Gerald taught the men’s Sunday School class, and he frequently helps a child or grandchild with a special project or need. Of course, there are visits with his brothers Garry and Keith. He is not averse to making a trip to Lexington or Georgia to see Geri Ann play softball or hopping in the car with Tara and her three sons to watch Tara coach Southern Force. Gerald’s sister Ernestine and our niece Leah visited and introduced us to Emerson, Leah and Derik’s daughter. Once again we attended the SIUC BSU friends convention.

We look forward to Christmas with deep appreciation for what Christ did for us. Here is a verse to share for my Christmas gift to you: The Lord is my strength and my song; he has become my salvation. Psalm 118: 14.

Love and Merry Christmas, Sue

Daily Doings and a World Premiere

Beds are back in order now. That feels good. Left-over holiday food has been eaten up, frozen, or thrown out. I am working on the Christmas letter and enjoying early cards from those more efficient than I am.

It was good to go again to Jackie Hancock’s rural home yesterday for the Women’s Club Christmas party. Last year she wanted us to come and see all of David’s beautiful outside decorations, and I am sure this year she wanted for things to be as normal as possible as life goes on without him. Her son and wife are still home from the Middle East, and Scott greeted us and served as valet taking our car keys, turning the cars around in the back yard with its beautiful forest, and having each car facing outward so we could leave without any problem. That was the nicest thing I have ever experienced at someone’s home. (Once I knocked into a mailbox, once I got off into slinging mud, and many times I have been nervous as I backed out hoping I was not going to do harm to someone’s car or tree or flower bed—or land in a ditch and have to be pulled out.)

We had met at the Marion library to car pool. I was delighted to have three lovely ladies ride with me. The youngest was 90, one was 94, and one was 95. Two of these three had driven to the library, and one had picked up the non-driver. These women are not the oldest in the club, but they are inspirational to us and give us hope that we too may be able to stay this active.

After the meeting I went by Katherine and David’s, and I barely got home in time for Gerald and me to turn around and go back to town for Sam’s symphonic band concert at 7:45. It was impossible to make the earlier concert of the younger Cadet Band. There was another group performing in another gym, and parking was scarce. We may have gotten the last space in that parking lot.

People were excited anticipating the world premiere of David Gillingham’s work “Lucid Dreams” written specifically with Director Jim Childers’ 47-member group in mind. Gillingham is a well known clinician and guest conductor, who is a professor of music theory and composition at Central Michigan University. Gillingham had heard and been impressed with Childers’ wind ensemble performance at the Illinois Music Educators Association’s All State Festival in Peoria a few years ago. Childers remained in contact with Gillingham, who has written many college band compositions and who wanted to branch out into writing for high school and advanced junior high levels.

From the program notes, I learned what lucid dreams are. Dutch psychiatrist and writer Frederik van Eeden coined the term to describe dreams where the dreamer is aware that he is dreaming. The composition began with controlled awareness and then darkened to “multiple dreams of various levels of fright.” Finally, Gillingham noted in the score that the composition “succumbs to lucidity and ends calmly with a hint of mysteriousness.” The standing ovation the crowd at the junior high gym gave the band at the end of the premiere presentation was lucidly appreciative. So were Sam’s two grandmothers after the concert seeing him in a tux that made us aware this young teen has mysteriously grown up when we weren’t watching.

Although I am sure Gerald was tired from his day’s outing to Union County and Cape to visit with his brothers, he pleased me by taking the long loop home so I could see the Christmas light display at the houses on Cherry Valley Road. Ahhhh.

That Time of Year

Driving home from Katherine’s on Sunday night, I took my preferred route—through the country roads rather than the highway. What to my wondering eyes should appear but the brilliant glow of the two houses on Cherry Valley Lane that celebrate Christmas with spectacular light displays. I only discovered this elaborate display a couple of years ago, but now enjoying it is part of my personal Christmas tradition.

Usually rural displays are somewhat modest, but these two side-by-side houses go all out with front and back yards aglow with fantastic assortments of decorative accessories and scenes. I was in a hurry to get home and fix Gerald a bite of supper, so I did not turn off the Creal Springs Road to drive up Cherry Valley, but I enjoyed the bright colors and the anticipation of making that extra loop while going home in the future. I really want to know who these generous folks are that light up the countryside each year.
I had already gotten my first Christmas card the day after Thanksgiving. I was expecting it. Valerie, my cousin Jack’s widow, makes a point to get her cards out this early every year. I am still not sure if I have any cards bought ahead, and I know it is time to write my annual Christmas letter.

I have just a few presents picked up ahead of time during the past year, but felt rather smug about those few. Then someone on Facebook wrote that they had their tree up and decorated and all their shopping done and presents wrapped. That made me nervous and left me feeling way behind. I am still straightening up and putting away from our Thanksgiving celebration.

Last night I made my first Christmas cookies—something I don’t indulge in to the extent that I did in the “old days” when our children were small and we gave them for their teacher/leader gifts. But I am supposed to go to my first Christmas party this afternoon with the Woman’s Club, and the inviting letter said to bring home-made cookies. I missed the last meeting, but I think these cookies are for some sort of in-club bake sale.

Gerry and Vickie have pecan trees in the backyard of their Georgia home, and they have enjoyed gathering and sharing their harvest. They brought me two containers of beautiful huge shelled pecans for my birthday—probably about fifty dollars worth if I were to buy them from the store. So I liked being able to use those in the Russian Tea Cakes I made last night. One of my favorite cookie recipes in the Betty Crocker cookbook, this cookie shows up with slightly different ingredients and other names in other cookbooks. Rich and not too sweet, the little white snow balls make a pretty accent on cookie trays with other kinds of cookies. I really am not fond of cooking for bake sales where products are supposed to be “nice.” I do not have the patience to make all my little cookie balls the same size nor fuss with them. I like feeding people and do a lot of that, but I am not a very good cook. However, hungry people don’t pay much attention to that.

I bought our Christmas ham at senior citizens’ day at the grocery yesterday, and I’ve started thinking of a menu that will not be a repeat of Thanksgiving although dressing, friend okra, and cranberry sauce will be expected.

When I get the house back in order from last week, I will quickly mess it up again getting out the artificial trees, which always shed when being assembled. Boxes of decorations will come down from high closet shelves. For a few days we will be living in chaos, but eventually Christmas memories will surface with the appearance of the accumulation of candles, manager scenes, Santa novelties, and lovely flower arrangements given to me in years past.

Dropping Like Flies

“Dropping like flies” was the comment of one of the grandkids describing our family Thanksgiving vacation at Woodsong. The holiday started early when a call from Goreville Tuesday morning said that Gerry and Vickie with Geri Ann and their grandson Aidan were almost here from Georgia. We happily invited them and Erin to lunch with us at Honeybakers, so I had a real birthday party. The Georgia gang were all excited to go see Drew Johnson play in the Crab Orchard annual Turkey Tournament, and Geri Ann was able to have her long-time Johnston City friend Cece over to spend the night with her.

On Wednesday I made pecan and pumpkin pies, and we had chili for lunch. By Wednesday evening, David had brought Sam out from Marion, Leslie had arrived from Belmont, the Archibalds were down from Aurora and the Taylors had arrived from central Illinois with Mary Ellen bringing three large versions of a marvelous casserole. Leslie made our salad, and I served canned peaches and a little store-bought cake for dessert—not letting anyone touch the counter full of pies saved for the next day, Jeannie, Rick, Elijah, and Cecelie arrived during the night. Katherine and David came out the next day. Before I went to bed while the others had gone to see Drew play again, I washed and prepared the turkey for the oven early the next morning.

I had the small upstairs oven at 350 degrees and the turkey roasting by 5:15 on Thursday morning and stumbled back to bed for a couple more hours sleep. I figured the turkey would be done by 11 and would have time to sit before Gerry carved it for us. The only hitch on Thursday was when I stumbled back into the kitchen shortly before 8. I discovered we had had a power surge that turned off the oven with the baking turkey. (This had never happened to me before.) Not knowing how long the oven had been off, I worried if it would be done by noon but quickly had it going again. (I knew Gerry and Vickie and their families would be going to an evening dinner at the Johnsons, so I did not want to serve the noon dinner too late.) But all went well with all the help I had, and we were eating earlier than usual before 1 o’clock.

Mary Ellen arrived from their camper with all the ingredients to make a both a broccoli casserole and a cauliflower casserole in the downstairs oven, which we’d moved over from our old house. (The huge pan of dressing, green bean casserole, and sweet potato casserole filled up the main upstairs oven.) Jeannie had carried in a yummy dessert and ingredients for a special salad. The Archibalds brought a spinach dip with chips that went over great while people waited for the feast to begin.

People were getting up at their own pace (except when someone made too much noise and awakened them), Gerald was busy giving Aidan, Maddux, and even little Payton tractor and “mule” rides. I think Aidan enlisted Sam, Elijah, and Trent in various activities including digging in his lime pile. And Maddux, who is now talking in sentences, was given his very own little shovel for the lime pile. The men were visiting and having fun while the women of the family cooked, enjoyed the little ones, and visited. The meal was bountiful and people were thankful for many things as evidenced by the blessings written on construction paper turkey feathers that the kids posted on Mary Ellen’s turkey poster hung in the dining room.

As we rested after the dinner clean up, the shoppers in the family scoured the newspaper for all the Black Friday ads and got excited about the fantastic bargains. Before they knew it, plans for a competition developed. Vickie and Tara have evidently worked cooperatively on this before, and Mary Ellen was enlisted with Erin to form another team and see who could outdo the other team in obtaining bargains. Since the toy store was to open before midnight and others continued afterwards, I realized this was an all-night activity, which was amazing to me.

What I did not know until reported the next morning when this crew came giggling into the kitchen before a little sleep (very little) downstairs, Erin had not shown up. She had phoned Geri Ann that she really did not want to go once she quickly got the comforter and towels she needed for her new place. Geri Ann thought there was a simple solution—just don’t go. So Mary Ellen’s team lost and she was particularly kind to go ahead and get her small kitchen appliances on sale for Erin at yet another store.

As they met up at Steak and Shake for a break, they plotted revenge for Erin’s backing out. Someone had told them a story about someone making money last year by claiming limited large items, which they really did not want to buy, and then before checking out giving the item over to another hapless customer for $20 or so, which still made it a cheap purchase for that customer. They had pondered if that was not illegal. So as they took their break, they decided that they needed to phone Erin and tell her they had tried it on some item and they had been arrested. They were going to ask her to come to the Marion police station but whatever she did not to tell her daddy because then he would never let the women go shopping again on Black Friday! They had quite a story cooked up to tell her only to have their revenge aborted when Erin had her phone turned off. (So I would not get unwanted night-time phone calls, Erin reported the next day.) But I think they had plenty of fun dreaming up this revenge and talking about it the next day.

One of the new aspects of this holiday gathering was all the teen drivers. These kids decided they wanted in on the Black Friday excitement. They piled into Leslie’s or someone’s car and went looking for fights in the stores as peaceful Elijah explained as they ran around town taking movies and having a great time standing in lines where they intended to buy nothing, and of course visiting Steak and Shake. They came in hours before the adult shoppers and eventually went to bed on various couches, but I did not even hear them since I was sleeping peacefully.

Peacefully that is before one grandchild came in to whisper he had just been sick. I sent him back to his couch and to make a long story short, I mopped a floor and had only gotten back to bed an hour or so before the adult shoppers came home in with great high spirits. I had not gone back to sleep because when I went back to bed, I remembered the oven going off with the turkey. I had horror visions that maybe this was food poisoning from that cold oven after starting the turkey cooking and what if I had poisoned my whole family? Jeannie kept reassuring me that from her experience in her college days with a major food company at a summer camp where hundreds had food poisoning, that was not what was happening even though we found out at breakfast that Bryan had been up during the night also with little Aidan throwing up.

As it turned out, the early sick ones were through the worst within 24 hours as is typical of stomach flu victims, but they all needed an extra day before the color came back to their cheeks and they were no longer weak. They had unintentionally spread it to the Johnson family so then I knew it was not my turkey. The next night the teens, who had not gotten the flu yet and felt like running around again, went to a movie in town, and Gerry had to go get Geri Ann when she became sick there.

On and on it went. Let’s see—Aidan, Sam, Leslie, Geri Ann, Erin, Gerry, Cecelie, Jeannie, Brian, Mary Ellen, Brianna, me, and finally Elijah right before they left this morning. The Archibalds had such a bug a week or so ago and seemed to be immune except for Aidan, who had spent that week at Gerry and Vickie’s. I am hoping they did not get the flu on their long way home today as Rick did as the Eilers traveled back to Freeport. Katherine, David, Vickie and Trent seemed to have escaped so far. Gerald had gotten a head cold on Wednesday and it kept getting worse each day and he became weak but did not seem to catch the flu. We were truly dropping like flies and it has not been a pretty picture at Woodsong for the last two days. My washing machine is running now and probably will be for the next day or two with blankets and towels. Everyone has agreed it has been a Thanksgiving to remember.



























“Dropping like flies” was the comment of one of the grandkids describing our family Thanksgiving vacation at Woodsong. The holiday started early when a call from Goreville Tuesday morning said that Gerry and Vickie with Geri Ann and their grandson Aidan were almost here from Georgia. We happily invited them and Erin to lunch with us at Honeybakers, so I had a real birthday party. The Georgia folks were all excited to go see Drew Johnson play in the Crab Orchard annual Turkey Tournament, and Geri Ann was able to have her long-time Johnston City friend Cece over to spend the night with her.

On Wednesday I made pecan and pumpkin pies, and we had chili for lunch. By Wednesday evening, David had brought Sam out from Marion, Leslie had arrived from Belmont, the Archibalds were down from Aurora and the Taylors had arrived from central Illinois with Mary Ellen bringing three large versions of a marvelous casserole. Leslie made our salad, and I served canned peaches and a little store-bought cake for dessert—not letting anyone touch the counter full of pies saved for the next day, Jeannie, Rick, Elijah, and Cecelie arrived during the night. Katherine and David came out the next day. Before I went to bed while the others had gone to see Drew play again, I washed and prepared the turkey for the oven early the next morning.

I had the small upstairs oven at 350 degrees and the turkey roasting by 5:15 on Thursday morning and stumbled back to bed for a couple more hours sleep. I figured the turkey would be done by 11 and would have time to sit before Gerry carved it for us. The only hitch on Thursday was when I stumbled back into the kitchen shortly before 8. I discovered we had had a power surge that turned off the oven with the baking turkey. (This had never happened to me before.) Not knowing how long the oven had been off, I worried if it would be done by noon but quickly had it going again. (I knew Gerry and Vickie and their families would be going to an evening dinner at the Johnsons, so I did not want to serve the noon dinner too late.) But all went well with all the help I had, and we were eating earlier than usual before 1 o’clock.

Mary Ellen arrived from their camper with all the ingredients to make a both a broccoli casserole and a cauliflower casserole in the downstairs oven, which we’d moved over from our old house. (The huge pan of dressing, green bean casserole, and sweet potato casserole filled up the main upstairs oven.) Jeannie had carried in a yummy dessert and ingredients for a special salad. The Archibalds brought a spinach dip with chips that went over great while people waited for the feast to begin.

People were getting up at their own pace (except when someone made too much noise and awakened them), Gerald was busy giving Aidan, Maddux, and even little Payton tractor and “mule” rides. I think Aidan enlisted Sam, Elijah, and Trent in various activities including digging in his lime pile. And Maddux, who is now talking in sentences, was given his very own little shovel for the lime pile. The men were visiting and having fun while the women of the family cooked, enjoyed the little ones, and visited. The meal was bountiful and people were thankful for many things as evidenced by the blessings written on construction paper turkey feathers that the kids posted on Mary Ellen’s turkey poster hung in the dining room.

As we rested after the dinner clean up, the shoppers in the family scoured the newspaper for all the Black Friday ads and got excited about the fantastic bargains. Before they knew it, plans for a competition developed. Vickie and Tara have evidently worked cooperatively on this before, and Mary Ellen was enlisted with Erin to form another team and see who could outdo the other team in obtaining bargains. Since the toy store was to open before midnight and others continued afterwards, I realized this was an all-night activity, which was amazing to me.

What I did not know until reported the next morning when this crew came giggling into the kitchen before a little sleep (very little) downstairs, Erin had not shown up. She had phoned Geri Ann that she really did not want to go once she quickly got the comforter and towels she needed for her new place. Geri Ann thought there was a simple solution—just don’t go. So Mary Ellen’s team lost and she was particularly kind to go ahead and get her small kitchen appliances on sale for Erin at yet another store.

As they met up at Steak and Shake for a break, they plotted revenge for Erin’s backing out. Someone had told them a story about someone making money last year by claiming limited large items, which they really did not want to buy, and then before checking out giving the item over to another hapless customer for $20 or so, which still made it a cheap purchase for that customer. They had pondered if that was not illegal. So as they took their break, they decided that they needed to phone Erin and tell her they had tried it on some item and they had been arrested. They were going to ask her to come to the Marion police station but whatever she did not to tell her daddy because then he would never let the women go shopping again on Black Friday! They had quite a story cooked up to tell her only to have their revenge aborted when Erin had her phone turned off. (So I would not get unwanted night-time phone calls, Erin reported the next day.) But I think they had plenty of fun dreaming up this revenge and talking about it the next day.

One of the new aspects of this holiday gathering was all the teen drivers. These kids decided they wanted in on the Black Friday excitement. They piled into Leslie’s or someone’s car and went looking for fights in the stores as peaceful Elijah explained as they ran around town taking movies and having a great time standing in lines where they intended to buy nothing, and of course visiting Steak and Shake. They came in hours before the adult shoppers and eventually went to bed on various couches, but I did not even hear them since I was sleeping peacefully.

Peacefully that is before one grandchild came in to whisper he had just been sick. I sent him back to his couch and to make a long story short, I mopped a floor and had only gotten back to bed an hour or so before the adult shoppers came home in with great high spirits. I had not gotten back to sleep because when I went back to bed, I remembered the oven going off with the turkey. I had horror visions that maybe this child had food poisoning from that cold oven after starting the turkey cooking and what if I had poison my whole family? Jeannie kept reassuring me that from her experience in her college days with a major food company at a summer camp where hundreds had food poisoning, that was not what was happening even though we found out at breakfast that Bryan had been up during the night also with little Aidan throwing up.

As it turned out, the early sick ones were through the worst within 24 hours as is typical of stomach flu victims, but they all needed an extra day before the color came back to their cheeks and they were no longer weak. They had unintentionally spread it to the Johnson family so then I knew it was not my turkey. The next night the teens, who had not gotten the flu yet and felt like running around again, went to a movie in town, and Gerry had to go get Geri Ann when she became sick there.

On and on it went. Let’s see—Aidan, Sam, Leslie, Geri Ann, Erin, Gerry, Cecelie, Jeannie, Brian, Mary Ellen, Brianna, me, and finally Elijah right before they left this morning. The Archibalds had such a bug a week or so ago and seemed to be immune except for Aidan, who had spent that week at Gerry and Vickie’s. I am hoping they did not get the flu on their long way home today as Rick did as the Eilers traveled back to Freeport. Katherine, David, Vickie and Trent seemed to have escaped so far. Gerald had gotten a head cold on Wednesday and it kept getting worse each day and he became weak but did not seem to catch the flu. We were truly dropping like flies and it has not been a pretty picture at Woodsong for the last two days. My washing machine is running now and probably will be for the next day or two with blankets and towels. Everyone has agreed it has been a Thanksgiving to remember.

Thanksgiving Is Almost Here

The hunters left Woodsong Saturday morning very happy as the one carrying the gun got an eleven-point buck. The camera guy caught it all on tape. We had a restful weekend although Gerald was busy on a project in his shop for a surprise for our 17-year-old grandson Trent.

Erin was briefly in to borrow a staple gun for the couch upholstery job--with sheets--that she and her friend Toni were doing on the couch Toni’s folks gave Erin. I bet those two make it look up-to-date. Erin hopes to be in her little rental house in Cambria by the middle of December. Her folks are bringing up several pieces of furniture she painted down in Georgia. They are also bringing up her dog Sadie, and Erin is very excited about that. Gma Shirley has donated a kitchen table, and Toni’s folks (whom Erin calls her adopted folks) also donated beds, so Erin will soon be closer to her new job at Southern Illinois University.

The turkey was put in our fridge yesterday to start thawing. Final grocery lists are made for shopping tomorrow to be ready Wednesday to start preparing Thursday’s dinner. People will start arriving tomorrow night for the holiday and weekend. Beds are ready and plenty of sheets are ready for the couches, which will all be full by Thanksgiving night. Glad Mary Ellen and Brian have not winterized their camper up at Wayside Farm since we definitely need that sleeping space.

While we are enjoying this holiday family time at Woodsong, the family history scrapbooks and scads of miscellaneous papers are temporarily put away, and writing family history is put on hold until next week. I have been doing much more reviewing than writing so far. Recalling, relearning, and looking at past work, which I have already forgotten, are necessary to limit propagating errors.

I have also done a little sorting and filing as I find piles placed haphazardly in boxes or even within the scrapbooks when bits and pieces of information have come in and I have been busy with other projects.

We were saddened by the death of a second cousin’s daughter at the end of last week out in Colorado. It is the nature of family history that it has no ending and no beginning—much like the love of God. Family history spreads out in all directions as you look to the past, and you notice the constant addition of new families. You see the same thing happening in the future as you watch young families forming and new blood lines constantly being introduced to the family. You soon realize that we are all one family of man.

I’ll get my hair fixed early this week in order to get my favorite stylist since she is off work on Wednesday, which is good since I plan to be baking pies that day. Gerald and I have a luncheon date in town tomorrow to celebrate my birthday before company starts arriving.

It looks like I will be too busy living for the next several days to do much writing. But if anything super exciting happens, I might have to run down here to my office and blog about it. Otherwise, I probably will be blogging again next Monday.

Watch out, Bambi!

If you live in Southern Illinois, you probably know not to go walking in the woods tomorrow. Today has been a busy day for hunters--putting up tree stands, getting guns and ammunition ready to go, looking for deer scrapings, and getting camouflage and red coats laid out for an early morning in the woods when deer season begins tomorrow.

Many local families depend on venison to keep their families fed. Others will pay to have their kill processed at local butcher shops and donate the meat to the soup kitchens. We farmers who have fed these deer all year are grateful to have them thinned to reduce the damage to our crops next summer. We are also grateful that lives will be saved by keeping some of these slain animals off our highways since deer cause many accidents, some of which are fatal to humans.

When our kids were at home, we had a son who loved to hunt—although he seriously considered hunting with a camera at one time rather than a gun—and we had one daughter who loved animals so much that hunting greatly upset her. (So did knowing that the little pigs she loved to hold down at our farrowing house would grow up and be sent to market.) Consequently, every night during certain times of the year, we had an ongoing debate about the virtue/vice of hunting.

Anyone who has seen a large beautiful buck running and leaping over a four-foot fence and off into the woods knows what a glorious vision that is. And a baby deer beside the road as we saw Monday on the way to Cape Girardeau to pick up our car is a visual joy. A doe with twin fawns is a thrill to see. So we understood Jeannie’s sadness that they are killed. Yet as Gerry explained over and over to her at the supper table hunting is beneficial to the deer. When the deer over populate and start dying from starvation, their lives are not only taken but their lives here on the planet are much less pleasant. Anyone who has had a car wrecked or a child in a car killed or a house destroyed by an invading deer knows that the graceful beauty of the animals is costly.

I understand the sadness that people feel about hunted animals or domestic animals raised for the market. Many will be moaning the death of the turkeys, which are now in our freezers or still at the super markets, waiting for next Thursday’s feast. I respect vegetarians whether from reluctance to eat another animal or for other reasons. But I also acknowledge that none of those turkeys or swine or beeves raised for the market would have had any life at all if not for those of us who eat meat. They just would never have been born in the first place. Gerald has a cousin who has a herd of cattle for pets because he loves them so much that he can’t sell them, but most of us could not afford that luxury. A few domestic animals would be in zoos or in sanctuaries, but that would be a very limited number of animal lives allowed to exist on the planet.

So I will enjoy our Thanksgiving turkey without guilt next week just as I liked seeing Gerry and his three hunting buddies enjoying pork chops and ham with their biscuits and gravy at lunch today at Woodsong. Actually Gerry just came up to get the other guys acclimated to the best hunting spots for tomorrow and to be in the woods with them as they prepared for tomorrow. (He has already left for home to pick up a softball recruit at the Atlanta airport on his way back to Athens.) Erin was here this evening between softball lessons at Future Swings to visit with her dad and was able to be in on the story telling taking place at the supper table. Hunting and softball both seem to encourage story telling, and we’ve had great stories throughout the day.

Hunting in the next day or two will add to many hunters’ repertoire of stories. Often those memories of fun and adventures are as valuable as the meat for our tables.

Succeeding with Elijah, Cousins, and Buddies

Bouncing through the streets of Freeport in the pickup last night, I felt great waves of success as I listened to the constant giggles of the two young teens and one near-teen in the back seat. I think Gerald felt it also.

As the three cousins—Brianna, Sam, and Cecelie—planned and plotted, they were oblivious of their grandparents up front. We could have been miles away for all their awareness. They were in their cousins’ world, which started back at Jeannie and Rick’s house where we’d just had a delightful relaxed dinner with Mr. Higgens, their very special former neighbor who has meant so much to the Eiler family. The adults were at the dining room table, but those three and three others had filled their plates and were in the living room pleasantly occupied catching up with each others’ lives.

Elijah had left first for Jeannette Lloyd Theatre to prepare for the second night’s performance of How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying. Jeannie and Rick, Mary Ellen and Brian were all on their way too. Trenton, a senior like Elijah, was riding, I think, with his cousin Leslie, who had driven up all the from Nashville, Tennessee, to see her brother Elijah play the lead role of J. Pierrepont Finch. (She’d had a late dinner Thursday night with her cousin Erin in Southern Illinois and then spent the night at Sam’s house with her Aunt Katherine before she started the seven-hour drive upstate to her home town.) Mr. Higgens like some of the rest of us had already seen the Thursday night show.

As I heard all that excited backseat talk as we drove across town, I knew one of my life goals had been achieved. I wanted these grandkids to be close enough that in the years ahead if they happen to travel through Chicago or Podunk or New York or Hong Kong and they have a cousin there, they will feel free to phone (text?) and say they need a couch to sleep on and know they will be more than welcome.

After the usual outstanding performance by the Freeport High School drama students and orchestra, we relished seeing all the performers in the backstage hallway where traditionally family and friends meet up with their thespians. It was a homecoming, of course, for Leslie seeing old friends, but we were all pleased and proud to be waiting to congratulate Lige and cast for their fast-paced hilarious rendition of this highly successful 1961 musical that will be reprised on Broadway in February with Daniel Radcliffe as J. Pierrepont Finch.

We were happy to visit a bit with director Tim Connors, who amazes me at his skill in consistently producing challenging musicals and drama with large casts. Thursday night was fantastic, and I thought Friday night was even better. They surely could not be any better tonight. The shows were not just error free, but musically and artistically completely satisfying. Cameron Rockwell and Elijah were perfect foils for one another as ambitious competitors at the World Wide Wicket corporation. I had fun imaging how much fun Connors had figuring out what terrific synergy these talented two would create together.


Back at the Eilers, Rick got the fire going in the fireplace and Jeannie spread food out again for late night socializing before Gerald and I headed back to the Country Inn where Mary Ellen and Brian were also staying although they were up for a little later stay than we were. I suspect Jeannie and Rick had a very late night slumber party with all the cousins at their house. We have still not heard all about that yet because shortly after we picked up Sam at 7 this morning, he was sleeping soundly as we headed down to the middle of the state for him to reach his friend Josh’s birthday celebration.

Josh’s birthday and the Freeport musical unfortunately conflict each year. Last year Sam went to the musical and he was especially desiring to see this year’s since Elijah is a senior. Yet he naturally wanted to be with Josh and their buddies for this super birthday party which started with the Illinois-Minnesota football game. So we made plans to skip tonight’s performance and help Sam connect with the birthday gang. With text and phone messages, we managed to meet up with Josh’s mom and dad and their van load with surprising ease.

Watching these eighth grade boys happily and confidently take off walking to the stadium, I felt more waves of success that we had actually made it safely from the opposite ends of the state and realizing how near those kids are to not needing us any more. (I’ve heard from Katherine that they are all back to Josh’s house now for a sleep-over and birthday cake and the guys all loved the exciting game despite the Illini loss.) I also found myself admiring Kirsten and Chad’s bravery in hosting this extraordinary party providing these lucky kids with a memory for a lifetime.

We reached the farm with the hope they’d be a message saying our car was repaired. If so, we planned to take off to Cape Girardeau to retrieve it. (We’d been told it would done in three days, so we had expected to drive it to Freeport, not the pickup.) The only phone message we had was from our neighbors Winnie and Jay Payne telling us to let them know when we returned home because they had prepared fish ready to bring over to us. Too tired to go to the church Thanksgiving dinner, we had a wonderful fish sandwich for supper, watched some of the Georgia-Auburn game and caught up on two days’ newspapers and mail. We watched the slide show of all the photos Gerald took of the cousins and the rest of us, and as you might have guessed by now, I again felt great waves of success. We did not have a book like J. Pierrepont did to guide us and we tried really hard, and we had a very successful weekend.

The Rape of Nanking

A wonderful surprise came in the mail the other day: a new book by my friend Dr. Hua-Ling Hu, who is soon moving back to Southern Illinois from Colorado. Hu is also the author of American Goddess at the Rape of Nanking: The Courage of Minnie Vautrin.

This new book The Undaunted Women of Nanking: The Wartime Diaries of Minnie Vautrin and Tsen Shui-fang is edited and translated by Hu and Zhang Lian-hong. It is published by Southern Illinois University Press as was the first book.

An Illinois missionary to China, Minnie Vautring stood up to the Japanese soldiers and their bayonets during the military occupation of Nanking, China. I only learned about her from Hu's first book, and I am eager to learn about her Chinese assistant and trained nurse Tsen Shui-fang in this new book. This new book is the first translation and publication in English of her diary.

It is estimated that anywhere from 200,000 to 300,000 Chinese were killed by the Japanese soldiers during the occupation. Between 20,000 to 80,000 women were raped. Despite Vautrin's and Shui-fang's exhaustion from turning their college into a refugee camp and protecting more than l0,000 women and children, both women kept diaries during this time. Shui-fang's diary is the only know daily account by a Chinese national during this terrible time.

Co-editor Zhang Lian-hong is professor of history and chairman of the Center for Studies on the Nanjing Massacre of Nanjng Normal University as well as associate chairman of the Modern Chinese Historical Society of Kiangsu Province and Nanjing Historical Society. He has co-authored or co-edited seven books published in Chinese.

Books abound at Woodsong, and I am always behind in reading all I want to read. But I am especially eager to read the stories of these two women written under great pressure as they faced evil and saved so many lives.

Potato Soup and Other Homey Things

After anticipating it for weeks, I finally got around to making us potato soup for supper with grilled cheese sandwiches. It was not even chilly today—in fact, I think it tied records at 76 degrees earlier in the day. I did my town errands with short sleeves and no sweater. Nevertheless, the soup tasted good. I used some of the Yukon Gold potatoes Gerald grew—his first potato crop. (For years Dad Glasco provided us and a lot more people with potatoes, so we never got in the habit of planting them.) They are very flavorful, and I do like the gold tinge of color. Ours are very misshapen. I wonder if that a characteristic of Yukon Gold or if it the result of the late summer drought. I fixed more than we needed, but I was glad I did when son-in-law Brian stopped by needing a ride up to the other farm. He was down disking his harvested fields today and will be tomorrow too.

Next door neighbor Sonja dropped by this morning to pick Gerald up to go to the annual Veterans Day program at the Crab Orchard Grade School. Scott met them there. I think I went last year, but too many things had to be done today for me to take off. Katie always invites us to special programs since her grandparents live so far away. Her class signed as well as joining the younger children with their songs. I enjoyed the short visit with Sonja while Gerald finished getting ready because it seems as if both of us are too busy for much neighboring lately. Katie, who is one of the top young swimmers in the nation, is taken to daily swim workouts, lessons, and then weekend tournaments.

We had hoped our car would be repaired by today, but it wasn’t so I had to use the pickup to do my errands this afternoon. It is so big in comparison to a car, and I have trouble pulling myself up to the driver’s side. I am uncertain how much space it takes to park it, and I could barely reach the drawer when I went through the bank drive-in.

Gerald has been working hard at catching up the farm record books, and he is celebrating that he has finished and is ready for the appointment with Doug Hileman, our farm management field man.

One of the items I found while working on Martin family history was a 1922 yearbook photo of my aunt Myrtle Martin Ball. Cousin Carolyn Stanley-Tilt has found it and sent me a copy. I took it to my hair appointment today and asked Stefeny Grear if she thought I could have that simple straight cut in a few weeks rather than a perm I have to go to another shop for. She said we could always try it. If anyone can make it look okay, Stef can.

Then I took that notebook with Aunt Myrtle and Uncle William’s information, photos, and records on to Katherine’s house as she had asked about her lately. She was a favorite great aunt of Katherine simply because Myrtle was so loving and dramatic. We rarely saw her since she lived in Texas, but Katherine cherishes a little kangaroo pin that she once complimented Aunt Myrtle on. With great presence and flair, Aunt Myrtle took it off immediately and presented it to Katherine.

At one of our last reunions, Katherine had asked my cousin Joe for one of the vaudeville posters that the Ball family had when they spent a summer (or more than one summer?)touring with a family show. I grew up with my mother’s copy of the poster showing then young Aunt Myrtle in a granny costume and numerous other photos. But I don’t know what happened to that copy. Living to age 98, Aunt Myrtle was made professor emeritus of speech at the El Paso branch of University of Texas—I think the third name given to the institution where she and Uncle William taught.

One of her charms for me was knowing she had hidden letters (love letters perhaps?) in the walls of her childhood home she named Mount Airy Farm and where we spent summers. There was one attic room without a floor and you could go in that dark place walking on rafters only and put things down in the walls. When Mr. Maze came and did some remodeling for us, some of the letters tumbled out. My mother who loved Myrtle burned them and would not let us invade her privacy by reading the long hidden letters. I have to admit I would not have been so ethical. I would have read them every one.

Woodsong Comings and Goings

Gerald, Tara, and the three little guys returned during the early morning hours yesterday after Southern Force lost 3-2 in the evening championship overtime game. Nevertheless, they reported a good time with family and friends. Tara had driven the entire way back to Illinois. They quickly settled down in waiting beds and all but Gerald were able to sleep in that morning although it was still a short night.

Gerald had to get up early to take our car down to Cape Girardeau to get “my” dent repaired in the new car. (He didn’t call it that; he has been very nice about my little dent that is costing a small fortune to repair.) His brother Keith happened to be in Cape for blood work, so he and Gerald had breakfast and later lunch together and Gerald caught a ride back to Keith’s farm, where I met him in the pickup to bring Gerald home. Despite spending the weekend with Tara and the boys, he really regretted not being able to see them Monday morning before they left for northern Illinois and the busy week ahead for Tara.

Aidan woke first and came quietly upstairs to the kitchen where I was eating my breakfast, and I thoroughly enjoyed our time together. He ate bacon and an entire cup of yogurt and a few bites of toast in spite of telling me he wasn’t hungry yet. Maddux arrived at the table next, and then Tara and a smiling Payton. I was somewhat concerned that Maddux would be in a terrible fix when he discovered Gpa was not there to give him tractor and boat rides. But he not only woke up smiling but kept smiling and seemed to understand my explanation that Gpa wasn’t there. Tara persuaded the two older boys that they needed shoes and coats to go outside, and together we accomplished that and headed out to the lime pile.

Despite our only having one little child-size shovel, Aidan and Maddux shared it with no fights much to my amazement. They climbed the pile over and over, scooped lime into the wagon and wheelbarrow, and played together so well. Mary Ellen wrote on Facebook that one of these days Aidan will catch on that all his work is going from pile to wagon and back to pile—and then he will be ready to help Uncle Brian with something productive. Fortunately, he still enjoys all the digging and dumping with no need for productivity.

When both boys were thoroughly covered with lime dust, it was time for them to get on the road. Payton was still smiling when Tara brought him out to the van. Maddux had just asked to see Barney, who was waiting for him in the car. I brushed him off as well as I could, and he quickly climbed in as did Aidan. Tara was pleasantly surprised at how quickly they settled into their car seats, and I was grateful for her since she had a long day of driving ahead of her and probably interrupted sleep behind her when various boys needed night-time attention. But she too was smiling and we all waved goodbye.

Erin dropped in on her way home from work to pick up some mail, and I was able to get an update on Gma Shirley, whose scheduled 4 o’clock surgery Friday turned into late night surgery because of someone else needing the operating room. In intense pain, she was kept over night and didn’t get back home until Saturday night. I am glad Erin is there with her right now.

Today Gerald took Katherine to the Herrin Hospital for the first Tysabri infusion she has been allowed to have after a shingles attack. It was a difficult procedure today, but she told Gerald she was already experiencing improved sight.

I worked a bit going through some old letters from my cousin Carolyn Stanley-Tilt who has discovered and shared so much Martin family information. And I accomplished a few other things including loading yesterday’s dishes into the dishwasher and starting to carry my winter clothes upstairs to our bedroom closet. I even stopped for a cup of tea in the afternoon; and when I realized what time it was, I turned on Oprah. Her guest happened to be President Bush, whose book was released today. Then it was time for the news, which I watched as I fixed a bite of supper for Gerald and me for when he returned from the hospital.

In just a short time from one local news cast to the next, the fire in our Shawnee National Forest over west of Grand Tower has grown from 300 acres to 400. The dry fallen leaves on steep slopes there prohibit fire fighters from getting the fire under control. Fortunately, there are no homes or buildings there in the forest. The sparsity of rain in late summer has caused wide-spread bans on burning, but a dropped cigarette by a roadside can do a lot of damage in a hurry. I hope the fire doesn’t spread too much more.

Whew!

Whew!

The Archibald gang arrived before noon. Erin and Gma Shirley came over right behind them. (I am not a cell phone fan because I can seldom hear mine; and when I do, I can’t get it into my hand and opened before the ringing stops, and I can’t do messages cause most of the time I keep the cell phone in the car so I won’t forget it and I don’t want people thinking they have left me a message not knowing I may not see it for two days. Nevertheless, it is truly miraculous how texting and calling can keep us in touch with loved ones at all times and places, and I appreciate that very much. I am sure Erin received a “we’re here so come on over” when Tara turned into our country road.

Gerald was changing the oil in the “mule,” and he was so excited at their arrival and greeting them that he forgot where he put the plug after he had started draining the old oil. (He had carefully laid it on the back wheel but it took him a while to remember that!) Maddux wanted to ride that “tractor” immediately. (He calls anything that moves at Gpa’s farm a “tractor.”) However, he had to be changed. I had already held Payton while Tara unloaded the “big” boys and diaper bags to change Maddox. Payton went to me and snuggled happily at first. But little wet Maddux was howling about having to wait to ride the “tractor,” so Payton figured something must be wrong and decided he needed to cry too. So as soon as she could, Tara took him back, and then Gma Shirley and Aunt E arrived and had to have their turn inside the house with Payton. As always, we marveled at how calmly and competently Tara got all three boys reorganized and acclimated after the long drive from the top of the state.

I watched Maddux outside in Gerald’s machine shed while Gerald finished the oil-changing. Maddux was happier waiting on his “tractor ride” sitting under the steering wheel, but he still was demanding, “Maddux ride tractor.” I was afraid he would turn on the key to the “mule” because he kept reaching for it. So I kept telling him those were Gpa Gerald’s keys. He would repeat “Gpa’s keys” and look at me and smile that smile that is going to break a lot of hearts in the years ahead. All this time, Aidan was happily filling his wheelbarrow and red wagon and with lime from his lime pile. Erin came out to take pictures of the boys on her phone, so I went back inside where Gma Shirley showed her skill being able to hold Payton and feed him his bottle despite her arm being broken in two places.

Finally Gerald was ready, and he and the “big” boys were off for their ride up and down the road and around the lake and the fields. After that they rode the real tractor before they came in with red cheeks from the chilly weather although Tara and Auntie E had made sure they had coat and caps. Maddox entered the house talking about riding the tractor, and he continue talking about it. Food had little appeal for him since he knew they’d be more rides after lunch. Gerald is an early riser, and his breakfast cereal had been used up long before and it was now way past noon, and the rest of us were also ready for lunch. Aidan dug in with gusto that would make any cook happy.

Gma Shirley could not eat or even drink water since she was facing surgery on her arm at four this afternoon. She stepped up to entertain Maddux after Tara’s persuasion didn’t succeed for him to eat the banana he’d asked for. He did not last long at the table because he wanted to stand beside Gpa and ask for more tractor rides. Shirley took him out on the deck and they talked about birdies and that lasted a little while. Finally she had him back in the living room watching Barney on some modern invention that is a blessing to traveling children.

Gerald finished his lunch, and then Maddux, Aidan, and he were off for a second round of tractor rides and then to ride in the boat. We women lingered visiting round the table and enjoying Payton who at eight months was able to sit comfortably in the high chair that a little time ago Maddux sat in. I’d put Maddux on the kitchen stool that used to be Aidan’s, and Aidan sat quite well in an adult chair. We did move briefly into the living room and were able to admire Payton’s swim-like crawling before it was time for Erin to have Gma Shirley at the hospital at two o’clock.

Gerald had about given up going to Chattanooga with Tara because a call last night to their motel and another favorite chain of ours both said there were no non-smoking rooms available. But seeing the boys and re-anticipating seeing Gerry, Vickie, and Geri Ann stirred his resolve and he made a final call to yet another motel and got a room in that crowded city with so much going on this weekend. At this point, he was scrambling to pack his bag, camera, and sleep machine while Tara changed the little guys once again, refilled bottles and drinking cups, and reloaded the car. We said our goodbyes and there was a quick turn around for the razor Gerald almost forgot. The mail carrier arrived at the same time in the driveway to deliver the gift that one of Erin’s softball students down in Texas had sent her, and suddenly everyone was gone. The house is quiet. I could take a nap. Or read a book. Or write a blog.

The Boys Are Coming

Sheets are clean. Meds put up. Lime pile watered down to be soft enough for Aidan to dig and rearrange and put into his wheelbarrow. Water being pumped out of boat because Maddox will want a boat ride. Easy lunch planned for tomorrow, so Gma Sue will have time to hold Payton. Every thing is at the ready when granddaughter Tara arrives with her three boys. We thought they might be arriving in the middle of the night as so many of our northern Illinois guests do.

However, Tara phoned this evening to say that she just could not have everything ready to leave this evening, so she hopes to be up and on the road to here early in the morning when her husband Bryan leaves for work. We are disappointed because Erin was going to come over from Gma Shirley’s for breakfast with all of us.

Erin drops in and out while she is temporarily staying with Gma Shirley, but she is actively involved with her first career after her graduation last spring from Texas A&M and then her summer in Europe playing softball with the Sharx. She started the last week in October as the new assistant softball coach with Southern Illinois University Carbondale with head coach Kerri Blaylock.

Before that she helped Gma Shirley with her move back to her own home next door after the time Shirley spent taking care of her younger sister Janice, who died last spring. Unfortunately, Gma Shirley fell recently and broke her arm. That is what the ER told her. Then at her first appointment to get it taken care of, she was told that the x-rays showed it wasn’t broken. But at the next appointment, it was determined it was broken in two places and the swelling kept it from showing up correctly on the x-ray. So tomorrow she will have surgery.

Tara is on her way to Chattanooga, where Southern Force has a softball tourney. Her younger sister Geri Ann will be playing for her. Her mother and dad, Gerry and Vickie, will be there to cheer and take care of the boys. Erin had talked of riding down with her, but she wants to be with Gma Shirley now for the delayed surgery. So Gerald has decided to ride down with Tara to help with the driving and enjoy his three great grandsons—at least until Vickie and Gerry claim their attention.

I am glad he has an extra pleasant weekend to look forward to. He hasn’t been doing his favorite things this week. He’s been busy trying to get our farm records up to date on his computer before the farm management field man arrives for his mid-November appointment. Also he has been getting estimates and an appointment to repair the first dent in our new car that I was responsible for. After attending a Trail of Tears board meeting Monday afternoon, I managed to get hit in the SIUC parking lot. So a good dose of love from three great grandsons will definitely increase serotonin in our systems.

Whatever Floats Your Boat--An Evening on the River

We had hoped to be in Georgia this weekend celebrating our son’s birthday on Friday and watching Geri Ann in the state high school softball tournament. It was not to be as Oconee lost the championship game in the previous tournament. I think Geri Ann may have taken it better than us adults did because she wrote on Facebook: “Focus on giants-you stumble. Focus on God- your giants tumble.” Nevertheless, we were doubly sad since we were disappointed for her in addition to our own disappointment.

Perhaps as an attempted antidote for our missed trip to Columbus, Gerald wanted to take a fall outing to the Garden of the Gods. This was definitely the right weather for it, and there was a break in the baseball series that Gerald watches hoping Texas will continue to make history. We hurried through tasks after lunch Friday to take off on the spur of the moment for the beautiful Shawnee National Forest. After a most pleasant drive through hills and vales and finally along a road parallel to tall cliffs seen behind the still leafed trees there, we arrived at one of our favorite parks. There were numerous cars, both instate and out-of-state, for others also wanted to view the fall leaves and enjoy the chill in the air.

We took a brief hike along one of the trails leading up to giant rocks, which we used to climb without thinking. It was always exhilarating to view the scenery from that high vantage point. Gerald is still steady on his feet, but I am much less balanced than I was the last time we visited the park even a year ago. I could hear the concern in his voice as he pointed out that one of the rock stairways going down (before it went up again) with neither rails or rocks on the side to balance with would be much harder coming back. I hated to quit, but I did not want to ruin our fun by creating a problem, so I turned back and sat down on the very comfortable bench that some kind employees had created for seeing that lovely vista without climbing the rocks to the very top. We met numerous other hikers on the path, and without exception, they all greeted us with great friendliness and camaraderie.

Our ultimate destination was the Ohio River, where we like to eat fish on a small floating restaurant there at Elizabethtown. We deliberately chose a road we were uncertain of to explore, and enjoyed the lovely drive and eventually did end up as desired at E-town. We had probably not been there for three years. We started once, but heavy rains made us abort that trip and eat elsewhere.

Before we went on down the hill to the floating fish eatery, I wanted to run into the gift shop at the Rose Hotel to see if Sandy Vineyard could use any more of my books. I had autographed some before I left home and was glad I had because she was out of those I left three years ago.

The Rose Hotel was built in 1812 and is now a beautiful bed and breakfast on the banks of the river. We spent our fiftieth wedding anniversary there in 2006. The rooms are lovely and the breakfast delicious in the dignified dining room. Sandy said the rooms were all taken that night, and she assured a tourist, who dropped in worrying whether the boat restaurant was open, that it served until 8 each evening.

I was grateful to know we could eat an unhurried dinner as we drove down to the boat’s parking lot and lingered a minute to enjoy the sunset dancing pastel colors on the river. We appreciated the new firmer wooden walkway out over the water leading to the boat where people were on the deck waiting for their turn at the crowded tables inside. Our wait was very short, and we enjoyed sharing a table with another couple and two bright youngsters. Their cuteness enlivened our meal. We were separated by a set of chairs, so we weren’t bothered by their conversations nor they by ours, but I did hear the young teen laughingly exclaim when we first sat down, “We went to a health fair today, and every booth gave us candy!” She was well aware of the irony of that, but evidently the adults who planned the health fair were not.

Although there were choices of farm-raised catfish and other entrees, we both wanted river catfish in that environment. The menu proclaimed they would serve all we could eat, and that was true. The original plates were generous and were all we could eat. We didn’t have to ask for the extra servings that they gladly brought to those who were still young enough to need more. I had a moment of panic in the middle of the meal when I frantically thought I might be getting sick—for a second I felt dizzy as though I were swaying although I had felt fine all day. Then I remembered that we were on a boat, and a barge had just gone by outside. Finally feeling pleasantly full and refreshed, we climbed the slight hill leading up to the parking lot for a night ride back to Woodsong and a good night’s sleep.

Fall Pleasures and Family Memories

Our little maple tree is completely covered with red leaves now. Few have fallen. The early bright red trees on the drive to town and last week at Goreville are half bare now.
However, the woods in the distance surrounding us, unlike other years, are mostly a growingly unpleasant green or brown. Wonder if the lack of rain is reducing color this year? There was one perfect brown oak leaf lying in our driveway when I walked down to mail Gerry’s birthday card. It had a long blow from the distant woods, but winds were high again today. As usual, brown corn husks from the fields beside our lane are landing in the yard.

After going to the mailbox, I had a little time to work on Martin Family history again downstairs. My cousin Dick, who wasn’t home when I visited Goreville last week, had returned my call yesterday and we had talked for over an hour—maybe two hours. So I was downstairs reviewing notes from that call and looking at other papers and notebooks I have laid out on a table in the kids’ den.

I had to quit to go pick up Sam from jazz band, and I rushed out the back door and stumbled into Gerald’s chair where he puts on his work shoes. The chair was scooted over so I could not miss it and there were papers in the chair about the family I had just been looking at downstairs. It took me a second to figure out that Dick had been there and left pages and pages of wonderful genealogical data from his computer program. There is no doorbell in our garage and I had left the door there open when I got back from the mailbox. So I had not heard Dick knocking. He and his sister have given me so much information.

When I wrote him and thanked him tonight for his gift, I shared the few memories I have of my Grandma Sidney after she moved to Broadway Street in Goreville. I had just turned seven in November when she died on January 1, 1941. I will share with you too:

My only memories of Broadway house and Gma Sidney:

1. Being disappointed once when I thought she had baked a yellow cake and it turned out to be cornbread. Somehow I remember her small red kitchen cabinet--not a wall cabinet. And a sorghum pitcher, which I have now.

2. Uncle Home and Aunt Vivian visiting with another couple, whose names I usually remember but can't right now. I think they may have been returning from Mexico. (Were the names Eddie and Olga?)

3. I remember playing with the box of broken jewelry that Gma kept for grandkids. How I loved that.

4, I remember a beautiful pillow made with satin and velvets. I inherited it at her death, and I still have it and love it.

5. I remember the beautiful chandelier Uncle Homer put in her front living room. And I remember her trinket case, which Jim helped Gerald rescue from the falling-in tenant house at Mt. Joy Farm. It is one of my pride and joys.

5. I remember the kids next door across the street on same side as Gma and playing in their barn loft once.

6. I remember Gertie Dennison laughing down the street on her porch in her corner house and the laughter always carrying up to Gma's house on the night air.

7. I remember loving to sleep in her folding bed with a feather bed mattress. I felt secure knowing if it rained, my head was under the high top part of the folding bed. I wonder if I slept there more than once.

8. I think there is some kind of a memory about mulberries, but I don't know what that is about.

9. I remember wanting to be flower girl at her funeral in old Baptist Church and getting to do so. I think we marched up to the choir loft when we carried in flowers or perhaps flowers were there and we carried them out. Mother had just started making me rag curls for Sunday School, and I think she made me curls for the funeral. I am not sure Gma had ever seen my curls.

10. I remember sitting on the front porch with cousin Jack and eating our buggers. I first thought this may have been at the time of her death, but since it was January, we would not have been on the porch at that time of year, so it must have been earlier.

Long after that, I can remember crying and missing her at Mount Airy Farm when I looked at her yellow and red rose bushes--almost forming a hedge out by the well. Many years ago I went to Mt. Airy Farm to see if I could get a start of the yellow rose bush, altho I am not good with plants. The lady there said they had been frozen out a year or two before, so I was too late.

Fall is a good time to reminisce, and I am enjoying thinking about the only grandparent I ever was able to meet.

Ferne Clyffe Dedication Plaque to Emma Rebman in 1974

I am continuing to go through papers and think upon Martin family history. I could barely read this 1974 manuscript, so decided to retype it. Ferne Clyffe was aways very important to our family not only because my parents and two siblings lived there one summer but also because it lay beside land my parents owned.In fact, Mom and Dad sold the enormous rock called "Boat Rock" to Miss Rebman. During the 1920s, Miss Rebman operated the park for the public for a small admittance fee. She later moved to Vienna, and I met her once when I went there with Mother. I have one fading memory of her room where we visited--crowded with papers. I loved it then, and claim it is her influence that makes me so addicted to papers today. I remember after she left the park that it became grown over and almost deserted during my childhood except for the one-room house where Alf Girtman lived. Miss Rebman insisted on allowing him to continue living there after the state bought the park. Once when Daddy was plowing on his nearby ground and I was hanging out with him that day, Daddy took me over there for a wonderful drink at one of the springs built into the rock cliff. Those springs are not available for families to fill their Thermoses with today. Our family was very happy when it became a state park in around 1950. The car anecdote below was often told by my mother, and she gave a detailed description to Fran Grabow when she drove our gang down there in 1951. Fran knew to put the car into low gear and go slow--and she said she was grateful for Mother's warning.

Here is what I just finished typing:


Copy of talk made by R.C. Martin at the dedication of a plaque to Miss Emma Rebman at Ferne Clyffe Park on Sept. 14, 1974.

Mr. President, Members of the Historical Society and Friends.

I appreciate this lovely tribute to Miss Rebman, I am sorry she does not know that it has been done. Maybe she does know. I want to thank President Bradley, Mr. Ralph Zech, the Historical Society, and Don Cole, Division of State Parks of Illinois for making this possible.

Miss Rebman had many outstanding traits of Character. I’ll just discuss two of them.

Many years ago we had the good fortune to share the old Club House which was then Miss Rebman’s home with her. It was a pleasant and happy experience.

The Club House had a high porch on the east side, many feet off the ground. The house was divided by a corridor running east and west. We lived in rooms north of this corridor.

One of the traits of character Miss Rebman displayed was courage. She demonstrated this quality many times. My wife had only recently learned to drive. She said anybody could teach a woman to drive better than her husband, I had forgotten to tell her how to drive down steep inclines. The old entrance was still a dirt road, She, with Miss Rebman at her side, started down the hill. She not only put on the brakes but threw the car into neutral. Of course the brakes didn’t hold, and the car raced down-grade. They managed to make the first turn, and away they rushed until the grade started up and slowed the car. Miss Rebman sat quietly and never spoke until the ordeal was over. She was completely cool and collected and continued to ride the remainder of the way in the car.

As County Superintendent she visited some 50 or 60 schools annually. The mode of travel then was by horse and buggy. One of these schools buildings was off the public road some distance. The teacher or one of the larger boys usually met and guided her to the school.

Another one of her traits of character was her love of nature. She loved the small animals in the park, grass, flowers, ferns and trees. In the hunting season she was always disturbed when she heard guns firing. She would often go out on the porch and call out, “Quit killing my squirrels.” She was partially repaid by an increase in their number. They were frequently seen near the house, and walks everywhere were made pleasant by their presence.

She wanted very much for the state to make Ferne Clyffe a state park. She worked long and patiently to this end. It was not just to help her sell the park.

I personally know she was offered the same price by individuals as she was offered by the State. However, she turned down this offer down because she wanted it to become a state park.

[This talk was on a typewritten sheet in R. Clyde Martin’s papers, which my mother saved. I suspect there was at least a closing paragraph on a second sheet, but only this much was saved.]