Celebrating Gerald!

A few years back, Gerald decided he needed to go see a softball series to celebrate his birthday. I cannot remember whether that trip was to see our son coach or one of our granddaughters play. Nevertheless, a tradition had begun. I think he has managed to go see games for his birthday ever since.

This year the softball series nearest his birthday was March 18-20 when Texas A&M would play Ole Miss. Nephew DuWayne was ready to be a willing driving assistant; the two of them always have a good time watching Gerry's teams. I was not up to sitting on cold bleachers instead of following the games in the comfort of home, so I declined.

I thought I ought to start the project of uncluttering my office. However, as always, I became too interested in old papers and would have to read them, so I did not get far on that project. I did manage to fill a big tall wastebasket and get those papers into the trash barrel in the garage. This is good for me because I am addicted to paper, and it hurts me to part with long-ago drafts or saved interesting articles that I might want to use someday for research. Long before researching on Google was possible, I had files of saved research on family history and other interests for writing I have never had time to accomplish unfortunately.

Since A&M swept the weekend series, Gerald came home in great spirits Sunday night. The shared the bleachers with fans, who with gave them credit for helping win and urged them to come to all the games. I heard the radio broadcaster telling how great the food on the Oxford square was, which was what Gerald had told me the night before. Vickie had primed Gerry to be sure Gerald had a birthday dinner there. With only one game a day, Gerry had time for visiting with his cousin and dad, so the whole weekend was successful. Gerald slept good that night back at the farm.

By Monday, the texts, phone calls, Facebook greetings, and birthday cards had started. Gerald gave me DuWayne's message that not only would Gerald's birthday breakfast be in Marion for our convenience, but they would even delay it until eight if I could come. I was flattered and embarrassed at the same time, and I assured Gerald to tell DuWayne I could surely make it to a 7 o'clock breakfast once a year! When Ernestine was here, I told her she was the only one I would go clear to Jonesboro early in the morning to eat breakfast with, but that was an exaggeration-–a synonym for a lie. Actually there are many people I would rise early for, but just not on a regular basis. Ha.

So on Tuesday morning, Gerald and I calmly traveled to town to share breakfast and laughter with his brother Garry and Vera and five of our nephews—DuWayne, Tim, Kerry, Bryce, and great nephew-in-law Eric. We felt even better when we learned that oddly all of the younger generation were actually working up in our neck of the woods that day anyhow, so coming up to Marion instead of Jonesboro for breakfast worked out well for them too.

Gerald continued getting birthday messages all week, and Wednesday brought the most beautiful one of all. This brightly multi-colored handmade card was an elaborate fold-down one with even its large envelope brightly decorated by our artist daughter Jeannie. Gerald had to take it in to show Katherine on Thursday.
Gerald's last official party was one Mary Ellen cooked up for Saturday night. Brianna had been on spring break all week, but at the same time, Mary Ellen was selling real estate and finishing up their April issue of House2Home's magazine. They had hoped to find time to look for Bri's apartment for next year at Murray, but they were pushed shopping for her upcoming trip to a roommate's California beach wedding at the bride's grandparents' home this weekend.

Our Freeport granddaughter Cecelie was also on spring break from high school, and her brother Elijah had put her on a train in Chicago to travel down for a week's visit their sister Leslie in Nashville. So on Saturday, Leslie was bringing Cecelie up here to catch an early Sunday morning train in Carbondale back to Union Station, where Elijah would meet her. So I was looking forward to seeing them.

Naturally they were planning to see Brianna and Trent. Mary Ellen and Brian invited us all to meet and have pizza together to celebrate Gerald's birthday. We were shocked to find when we arrived at the designated pizza place, there was not a single parking place available—not one! We hastily called Mary Ellen, who called the others, and we all ended up at another favorite place, where parking was available. And their pizza was delicious as always. We had a good time talking and laughing, and the younger four got together for even more visiting while we went home to contemplate our blessings. Cece ended up staying all night with Brianna, and I enjoyed a wonderful end-of-the-evening talk with Leslie hearing all about her new work as an independent worker in her home office. Going rogue she calls it. She and Gerald visited briefly over the coffee pot the next morning, and I assume Cecelie caught her 7 am. train and Leslie made it home to Nashville and Mike.

This week has not been so pleasant for Gerald as he had serious dental work yesterday, which was checked again today. He looks great in his new dentures, and he has seemed to enjoy soft meals I've served him of mushroom soup, jello,and ice cream.

Before they left for Mississippi, Gerald had hurried to get some CRP ground burned off, a storm-damaged shop roof repaired, and a couple martin houses cleaned out. The martins are already nesting in them. Today he was replacing a handle on the downstairs toilet that had quit working. No wonder we celebrated that 87-year-old man!!

Summer Almost Over

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beautiful Belle

The curtain opened and there was a brunette peasant girl with apron and her basket going to the village bookstore. I caught my breath. How could that possibly be our youngest granddaughter—one of our three blond granddaughters? First of all, in my mind I often still see her as the tiny little girl who was too shy to sing. And always the blond hair defined her pretty looks. If we had not known that our Cecelie was going to be Belle in Beauty and the Beast at Freeport High School’s fall musical, I don’t think I would have recognized her.

We had traveled all day one more time to see one of FHS’s outstanding theatrical events. Freeport is only 12 miles south of Wisconsin, and going up the length of Illinois is always a challenge. But we have met that challenge first to see Leslie and then Elijah in their plays, musicals, and the traditional Show Time performances. We have missed a few, and I still feel regret over any we did not see even if we have a video. Now it was our joy to see the youngest Eiler sing and act.

We pulled off Interstate 57 to stop at Cracker Barrel in Urbana for lunch and use up a Christmas gift card one of our kids gave us. Then on Route 72 over to Bloomington where the long trek up Route 51 and 39 begins. We look forward to seeing the windmill farms to break the monotony, and there were new ones since our last visit.
Finally at the edge of Rockford, we turn west for the brief last lap of the 400 mile trip. I love the big farm houses along Route 20 going back to a time when farming was more profitable in the region there. Arriving in Freeport, we stopped for flowers and checked into our motel room, and then headed to Jeannie and Rick’s, where Jeannie had chili and sandwiches and yummy pies waiting for whomever and whenever people showed up. Cecelie and her boy friend Ryan had to get to the theater early. Elijah was there from Jacksonville already, and so were Leslie and her husband Mike. Jeannie’s food was good, but the colorful fall arrangements and bright paper ware on the table and buffet pleased me even more. I’d already enjoyed the autumn door wreath and the large pumpkin by the door—Jeannie explained it had grown up this summer from where last year’s pumpkin had ended up! (I had to turn my back to avoid looking at the huge unseasonable Christmas tree in the lobby/lounge at our motel.)

The night before, Leslie and Mike had arrived from Nashville and slept at our house, but they left Woodsong hours earlier than we did since they and Rick were going up to Madison before the musical. There a car was waiting for Leslie that she had managed to buy long distance from two states away thanks to a Nashville friend formerly from Madison and to her dad for checking things out. I had to be impressed that our little lion (Leslie) could deal so well. Leslie’s old car was to go to Cecelie, who needs it to get to work. Somehow Cecelie manages to work at a local consignment store as well as taking her studies seriously. Knowing how hard our children and grandchildren work, I feel irate if anyone talks about today’s youth lacking a work ethic.

Jeannie had secured great seats for us, and we crowded into the almost full house and greeted Cecelie’s other grandmother Rosie and friend Jerome, who always come over from Naperville for these events. Soon warning lights flashed; and before we knew it, a loud voice filled the auditorium introducing the story about to begin

Then the curtain opened and we were transported back in time. The student orchestra always impresses me. Once more it added greatly to the atmosphere whether the scene was happily bucolic or frighteningly dangerous.

Not only did Cecelie and the other students gift us with great singing and acting, but the sets were outstanding this year and created by a technical math class of high school kids and their math teacher. I was sitting by the head of the math department (Rick) and I could tell he was rightfully proud. Both the village set and the villagers’ singing and dancing were delightful even if they did not appreciate Belle’s love of learning. Of course, someone did because there was a book store in the heart of the village.
Even more extraordinary was the set for the enchanted castle with its stairways, upper rooms, and many details that were proof of the skill and care of the students who made it.

The screen that came down for the forest scenes was magical with its three dimensional illusion. Although they did not, of course, I felt the characters were actually going in and out of the big trees on that flat screen.

There is a long tradition of outstanding theater at Freeport going back at least if not earlier to Jeannette Lloyd, who designed the theater. (I think for her doctorate.) After the final stage calls and ovations, we joined the traditional throngs that crowd an upper hallway to hug and congratulate the cast, present bouquets, take photos, and greet alumni from previous shows. (This is one of my favorite parts of the FHS experience.)

There I discovered from a huge banner on the hallway wall that the student orchestra was over 150 years old! In 1864 during the Civil War, someone started at orchestra for the students there! (Many of our high schools in the southern end of the state were not started until the 20th Century.) I would love to know the story of the origin of that orchestra. I am certain some dedicated teacher musician worked overtime to start it just as dedicated teacher musicians have worked overtime to continue its success.

We skipped the after-theater reflection time at Jeannie and Rick’s house because we were tired enough to go straight to the motel and bed. Gerald would let me sleep in the next morning before he left to go back home for some obligations there. I was staying and catching a ride back with Leslie and Mike so I could see the Saturday night show. After we arrived, however, we found out that for the first time in 26 years, there was to also be a Saturday matinee since this show was so great for children—some of whom showed up in Belle dresses. So I saw three of the four performances! I would have loved to see Thursday night’s opening too, of course, but I felt well blessed.

Mary Ellen and her kids, Trent and Brianna, broke away temporarily from the Taylor family plans to stay in Freeport that night and see Cecelie. (As it turned out, Trent did not have to work that weekend after all, so he came too.) Thus, I had one granddaughter on stage and four grandchildren and a grandson-in-law in the audience cheering her on. Housewives don’t always get promotions or noticeable rewards, but I cannot describe the joy and pride I felt for the family love present that night. (And I knew that Cecelie’s other states-away four cousins would have liked to be there.)

Jeannie fed nine of us for dinner before the Saturday night show; and to my amazement, I learned she was hosting the cast party afterwards. Fortunately she had explained to me that she always fixes more food than necessary—just in case. Well, the case was that instead of the 30 or so she expected to come, there was probably 60 or so! She had enough food! Since they have an ordinary size house, I am not sure how there was enough room, but it sounded fun to me. Mary Ellen, Trent, and Bri were able to attend the party and the kids spent the night. Mary Ellen picked them up the next morning. I think the last guests left at 3 a.m., and Jeannie got to bed at 4. Pretty good for such a recent cancer survivor I’d say. Everyone was still high from the fun and excitement of the night before when we gathered to drive down to Cedarville for worship.

I think Jeannie fed eight of us lunch (plenty of left overs) before the siblings had their last visit together. Finally we had to make our exit, and I crawled into the back seat of Leslie’s new car for its journey to Woodsong. The sunset and clouds were beautiful as we drove that long stretch to Bloomington, and then I slept some when darkness came and before we stopped for supper at Effingham.

We were at Woodsong by 10, and Les and Mike went right to bed since they had to get on the road by 6 the next morning. Les had taken the day off to register her car and stuff; but Mike, a personal trainer, wanted to make his 9:30 appointments. (He explained to me that he had someone cover for him until then, but he usually starts meeting clients at 5:30 on Monday mornings.) I told them goodbye as well as good night because I knew I’d be sleeping in. I went downstairs to check email and Facebook and ruminate on the weekend’s fun.

A Better Week

This morning started with hearing laughter in the kitchen while I was still drugged with sleep – even though it was almost nine.   I assumed it was Gerald watching television until I became more awake.  As I gradually began to think more clearly, I realized that it was conversation I was hearing and it must be Mary Ellen and Brianna at the kitchen table with Gerald.

I hopped out of bed as rapidly as I could (which is not very fast since age had made me do everything slowly) and hurried to the kitchen in my flannel pajamas to see our guests.  It was already on my agenda to be sure I saw Brianna today since this evening she is heading to Florida for her spring internship at DisneyWorld.  She and Trent grew up going there, taking Disney cruises, and celebrating at this magical place, and the internship program had been a dream for her.   She has worked so much during her first two years of college that we all are hoping (even though she is going to be working there too) that this will be a spring of fun and relaxation.

Well, finally I think all the Christmas decorations are  hidden away in closets for another year.  I used the word “think” because just like the artificial grass or even  stray jelly beans have  a way of popping up in surprising places weeks after Easter, so do remnants of the Christmas season sometime. 

I still want to look over the Christmas cards and re-read the letters. I used to always do this on New Year’s Day, but I haven’t managed that for a couple of years now.  I also  have a handful of envelopes to check to make sure the address has not changed from what I have recorded on my very worn and messy lists.  The computer lists with addresses that I once knew how to use to print address labels are long gone with long-ago computers.  There are so many things I used to know how to do on older computers that I have never learned to do on this one, which I have had for several years now.

I have always managed to transfer over essays on Elder William “Cedar Billy” Martin that  have been started and stopped for many years. My last  summer project was to update and finalize all I had discovered about my great great great grandfather as a Christmas gift for my children.  That project was abandoned back in October when I had to stop and prepare for a Trail of Tears presentation.  I had planned to finish with Cedar Billy by August 1 and then September 1.  Then I was into October and still working on it when I had brief times to write.

Over and over I was almost done with this grandfather’s story,  but I kept finding details that I needed to check out or questions to try to answer. I was also trying to go through entries on a family Internet group had been  made over many years about our family history.  Completion just kept being delayed.  Finally I had to discipline myself and quit writing and start reviewing what I once knew about the excruciating 1837-38 march that our government forced the Cherokees to make through our region on their way to what later became Oklahoma. 

I feel this historical journey is one that should be known by all Americans in order for us to acknowledge that we too have sometimes acted as brutal terrorists. Only one vote in the Senate caused an illegal treaty to be passed.  Yet in the midst of that sinful federal debauchery, there were many kind souls who refused to bow down to Satan and Andrew Jackson, and those people  ministered to and helped the Cherokee and the other tribes sent west.  It is  important to know some stood up for what was right regardless of the laws passed. Many of our ancestors had no way of understanding what had transpired since prominent citizens and much of the media quoting those self-serving citizens and officials gave misinformation to the masses.  Many, of course, could not read anyway since educational opportunity was scarce back then. 

 I think it is important for us to be aware that we may do terrible things and think we are fighting for righteousness. So back in October I put aside the family information I was working on.  And I struggled to get ready to talk about the terrible trek one group of humans made another group of humans take through Southern Illinois when the two bounding  rivers froze over and the snow on the ground between the rivers was spotted with blood from feet whose moccasins had worn out.  And the aged and the infants were buried in our soil.

The stack of papers and the notebooks on my grandfather has been moved around several times since then, but I have never gotten back to that undertaking, which I assumed I would start up again in November.  But I didn’t.  Now I know that  I must review, sort through all those papers and try my best to wrap up that project. Sometime. But not this weekend.  Family is coming in tonight, and I am happy and excited.  Maybe next week, I will restart.  Reckon I will have it completed for my gift to the children next Christmas? 

A Weekend Away

It had been much too long since we visited Mary Ellen and Brian’s family in central Illinois.  When I heard that Brianna had the lead in their school’s musical, I knew I had to be there.  This news was extraordinary because Brianna had never sung in public before.  Yes, we knew she was musical since she played first chair clarinet and participated in the state band, but even though both her parents were singers, Bri had never expressed an interest in being a vocalist. Nothing like starting at the top! We drove up Friday afternoon and went straight to the school.

Lincolnwood Junior and Senior High School at Raymond (just a little south of Springfield) have an outstanding auditorium for a school its size, but there has not been a long tradition of theater there.  Mrs. Weatherford came six years ago, if I understood correctly what she said when she honored Patrick Crawford for six years’ participation in drama under her direction.  Brianna came to Lincolnwood as a freshman; and although she participated in the chorus or in small parts each year, she had never aspired to a lead role.  She doubted that she could act, but she definitely can. (I have always noted that shy students are often extremely effective on stage.  Shy is not a completely accurate way to describe our Brianna because in so many ways she is self assured and deservedly quite confident. Yet she is often quiet, never pushy, nor does she have to be in the lime light.)

Despite the lack of a good sound system or sets for quick scene changes, Mrs. Weatherford has managed to gradually increase the difficulty of the annual musical each spring,. This year’s presentation of Guys and Dolls, based on Damon Runyon’s story and characters, was the most challenging school production in her career there, and the results were most impressive. The amount of talent for a school that size was evidence of her hard work and the training she has provided the kids.

Brianna seemed a natural Sarah Brown, and the twinkle in Patrick Crawford’s eye made him an excellent Sky Masterson. Tanner Butler was quite believable as Nathan Detroit, and Alicia Benning as Miss Adelaide was as believable as anyone could be to have put up with a fourteen year engagement. Her smile was adorable, and I enjoyed the beautiful smiles of all the Hot Box girls.  They had obviously been well coached.

Despite the dinner Brian treated us to after the show, I had to have a muffin when we reached their country home and Trent greeted us with hugs and hot homemade muffins.

Gerald broke his record by going to both nights performances.  He knew I would want to see both nights as I always try to do when we visit the Freeport grandkids’ shows.   I explained to him that each performance is different, and it was just like wanting to see both games in a double header or all three games in a weekend series.  I still expected him to stay at home the second night, but he was right there to applaud with the rest of us.  Getting to meet two of Mary Ellen’s friends I’d heard her talk about was a special treat for me.

Jeannie had driven down from Freeport with Cecelie and they’d stopped by Illinois State to pick up Elijah for the Saturday performance.  So Brianna had a couple of cousins in addition to her brother Trent and her friends there that night.  When she got home from the cast party, I am sure the younger generation had another party downstairs.  I don’t know what time she got home because after we all visited and feasted on Mary Ellen’s buffet, Gerald and I headed to bed.  But since Jeannie had told her two that they would need to be back on the road at 4:30 a.m. Sunday, Cecelie was concerned because she heard Bri tell her mom she’d be home by 3:30.  Mary Ellen had to explain to us that was a standing joke between them, but Bri would be home at a decent hour.

Brian reminisced throughout the performances because his high school had also done Guys and Dolls.  He had been Nicely Nicely Johnson and his sister Vicky had been Miss Adelaide.  Watching his pleasure at those memories reinforced what I have always known:  Theater participation provides students with invaluable group bonding and gives them perks that last a lifetime.

We slept late Sunday morning and had a leisurely breakfast and then visited more before we headed into Raymond again to worship together.  It felt good to pray with others for the victims of the Boston bombers.  After church, we drove to Litchfield to the same restaurant where we’d had dinner after the Friday performance.  We lingered as long as we could before we had to be back on the highway to head home to Southern Illinois.

Baby green leaves on the trees lining the roads were accented with the white and purplish pink blooms of the occasional dogwood or redwood. Despite the chilly winds, it was a beautiful day.  Gerald was driving, and I was relaxed. My lunch soon demanded a siesta that no amount of trying could postpone.  When I awoke, we were almost home.  It was good to have been away.  It was also good to be home.

The Busiest Time of the Year

This always busy season is even more so this year because our daughter Katherine has been very ill fighting an infection. After her brief hospitalization, she was sent to yet another doctor and is being treated at home. Unfortunately, her usually excellent insurance will not pay trained personnel for this treatment. If it were not for her husband at night, her beloved morning aide, and her dear and highly qualified friend Michele Otto, who happens to be on “vacation” until we ruined it, I do not know what we would have done. We have gone through a series of being told one thing by those in charge and having things be another way. Yet we are very hopeful that this excellent doctor will find a way to end this infection. Gerald will be taking her to Carbondale on Tuesday to see how well these at-home infusions have worked.

After months of more surgery and therapy, we are thrilled that granddaughter Erin has conquered the scary infection caused by her summer knee surgery. She is all smiles these days when she drops in without crutches. She is working out to make that leg as strong as her good one.

Erin and her dad both were among those softball coaches in Los Vegas last week for conferences during their “dead” non-recruiting period. And I guess our great niece Tracy’s husband Cody Brown was there about the same time winning the World Series of Team Roping with his partner Tyson Campidilli. They split the $200,000 prize money. Tracy’s family members here in Southern Illinois are as involved in roping as our son’s family is in softball. I find it interesting but understandable that families seem to gravitate to the same fields and competitive passions. Our daughter Jeannie’s family is our music-drama bunch.

Gerald took our grandson Sam up to Assumption today to meet his Uncle Brian who took him onto Waggoner to participate in the first ever Homecoming at Lincolnwood High School. Lincolnwood’s basketball game was last night, but Sam could not go up then since he was playing with the pep band at the high school basketball game here in Marion. Tonight is Lincolnwood’s coronation, and he will be there to represent our family as his cousin Brianna participates as a member of the court for the junior class. I can’t keep from wishing I were there. Brianna has Sam fixed up as a blind date with one of her friends at the dance afterwards.

Gerald enjoyed visiting with Sam on their trip and then visited a John Deere dealer up there—always a pleasant outing for a farmer. He was home after 3 p.m. and said he realized after he got here that he had forgotten to eat lunch. (He and Sam had plans for a late breakfast in Mt. Vernon, so I imagine that he why he forgot lunch.) Kindly he found left-over pizza in the fridge and had fixed his own lunch before he told me anything about it.

I made some very good beef-veggie soup Wednesday morning, so that is what we are having for supper tonight. For my lunch, I had finished the left-over plate of the spaghetti that I’d made for us and the Cedars on Thursday night. With left-overs in the fridge plus things bought at Senior Citizens Day at Kroger Wednesday, the fridge has been overfull, so I am glad we can use the leftovers.

With no cooking today, maybe I can have Gerald get down the big boxes of Chirstmas decorations in the guest room closet and I can start going through them. Earlier this week, he got down the two boxes in our closet, and those swags and accessories are already in place. The two trees must be unboxed also and put together to hold all the pretties in the boxes, and I hope that can be accomplished early next week.

Part of my Christmas shopping is done, part is ordered, and part is still to be done. None is wrapped. My sister’s little birthday present was mailed yesterday to Amarillo. Oh, yes, I also really want to send out the Christmas cards that are waiting. I bought the stamps this week. These are all fun things that in the grand scheme of things will not matter whether I accomplish them or not. Being busy is part of the holiday tradition, and I am glad for the good part of the busyness—and praying that her time-consuming medical treatment brings better health to our daughter.

Gotta Get Up in the Morning

I better not write long tonight, because morning will be here before I know it. No sleeping in this week as I usually do. The grandkids have been unusually good this year to go to bed early and not giggle too late. They are growing up. Of course, they are also tired from outdoor play, hiking around the lake, and all the activities they dream up. When they act bored, I try not to make suggestions. Then they come up with a plan.

For many years when they were small, I went to bed with them and we told stories to each other and tried to settle down that way. They don’t need that anymore.

The girls went over to Katie’s house next door this afternoon. It was really nice of her to invite them because she is extra busy not only with her daily swim lessons, but it is also 4-H show week. She will have to have her projects ready to be evaluated. Bri and Cecelie left Woodsong wearing amazing garbs with picture hats. I figure Katie was somewhat surprised. Elijah drove them over in the “mule.”

Sam had left Vacation Bible School with one of the teachers in order to be home in Marion for his trombone lesson, but his dad brought him back out to the farm afterwards. That gave Sam and Lige some afternoon man time together before they drove over in the “mule” and brought the girls back home.

I fixed a large meat loaf for supper, since our kids seem to like it. They were hungry I’m sure. After supper, there were more outside activities. In fact, I got nervous when they were out in the “mule” after dark. We hollered across the lake at each other and I had visions of their being stuck—but they were just having a good time and were ready to call it quits and come back to the house. More giggling and play acting.

They have been preparing a skit for the opening exercise each day since Elijah makes a great director as well as actor. (He should because there is not doubt that Freeport’s high school drama coach is one of the best in the state, so he has a mentor.) Lige did a good job explaining how to project your voice. When it gets really noisy, I might wish he hadn’t done so well.

That’s all folks. I am going to bed now.

Death Where is Thy Sting?

Mary Ellen wanted us to come see their new home, so yesterday we drove up to the central part of Illinois to see where they have moved for Brian’s new job assignment. Thus, I am blogging a day late.

Although they both grew up on farms and have talked about wanting to be in the country for years, it took this move for them to accomplish that. Now with their house sitting on five acres and a second detached garage to hold their truck and tractor, they are feeling like true country folk again. Mary Ellen was mowing the huge yard when we arrived, and Gerald could not resist after lunch going out and mowing a bit himself. But Brianna finished up the major part of it. Although he has a bedroom upstairs, Trent is relishing all the space in the finished basement for his computer, games, and activities.

Their mailing address is the town of Waggoner with a population of 250, a grade school, a tiny town hall, and the post office all on the main street. Their water comes from Farmersville, where they also have secured library cards. The two teenagers are enrolled in high school at Raymond, which is a small school with a good academic record.

The difficulty of answering the question, “Where do you live?” is part of rural living. Our children went to school in the village of Crab Orchard, and we go to church and use the library there. Our mailing address is Marion, where we buy our groceries. We are a mile down the road from the village of New Dennison. Our telephone exchange is Crab Orchard/Paulton.

Today Gerald and I went down to Union County to attend the funeral of a 97-year-old mother of a friend. Gerald and Jerry Pirtle had been friends for years before they found out that they were also cousins--third or fourth--I have forgotten which. We should have wondered about it earlier since Gerald’s maternal grandmother’s maiden name was Pirtle. Jerry’s father had died when he was very young, and as an adult Jerry became interested in family history. Finally Gerald and Jerry realized they shared a family tree. Today we met Jerry’s sister Joan.

Their mother had a second marriage, but it too ended with a husband’s death. She did not let any of this defeat her. She lived not just a long life but a productive one always caring for others and showing her love through service and hospitality. Photographs and the statements of friends and relatives made that clear. Joan told me how her mother always ate good food (cooked it also I learned) and exercised. Even after she could no longer live alone but went to live at the Lutheran Home in Cape Girardeau, she walked a mile a day in the halls using her pedometer.

After the funeral service in Anna, we joined the cortege that traveled up through the hills of peach country to Alto Pass, and we sadly watched as Mrs. Pirtle was laid to rest beside the youthful husband she had lost so many years ago. This is the same cemetery where Gerald and Jerry’s oldest known common ancestor Polly Pirtle is buried. She reared a large family by herself, and no one was ever sure what happened to Polly’s husband.

While watching the casket was being lowered into the awaiting grave, I had the odd experience of suddenly realizing I had been stung by something. I never saw the perpetrator, but I pulled out the stinger in my leg and even got some of its poison in my hand before I was able to throw it down. The poison hurt, but fortunately I am not allergic.

Our car was trapped between all the other cars on the narrow cemetery road, and the usual remedy of a paste of baking soda that I always applied to the children’s stings was not available. After we left Alto Pass, we cut through the country on a beautiful narrow road surrounded by green leafy trees—along with many fallen trees from the storm. The stinging pain would subside and then come again, but I distracted myself with the leafy loveliness.

By the time we got to Carbondale, where we had planned to have lunch and get Gerald’s glasses adjusted, only the red spot remained and the pain was gone. I sat in the car and studied for next week’s Vacation Bible School while he visited the eye place. We stopped in Marion at my doctor’s for me to get a scheduled INR reading, and that reading was good. We were home in time for me to do a bit more study and Gerald to mow more of the yard that he started earlier in the week. He had time, of course, to find out how Southern Force teams were doing at the softball tournament in Boulder, Colorado. As we ate a sandwich for supper, we reflected on those friends from his childhood with whom we had visited at the funeral. And we knew that Jerry and Joan and their loved ones were reflecting on their mother’s century of living.

Coming and Going at Woodsong

Summer is almost here and school is out. People are taking advantage of places to go and people to see. Five adults and one teen sat in the Woodsong living room this evening and stared and rejoiced at one little baby boy named Maddux. Almost six months old, he kicked those precious chubby legs, sat himself up, rolled over, army crawled, and completely disassembled the little wooden train set on the bottom of the coffee table. Of course, his audience thought each move was magnificent, and he enjoyed our complete attention.

He had already been passed around with each of us taking our turn snuggling and hugging this little lover with turgid skin and the ability of fit against you so you feel you are wealthy beyond measure. He had cooed and talked and flirted and coughed. Once he starts coughing and sees it pleases you, he really carries on big. When he ducks his head to the side shyly, we all melt. And when he flashes that good natured smile that brings his dimples into sight, which is something he does often, we think he is the greatest baby we’ve had since the last one.

The visit was very short because he and his mother Tara had yet to drive up the state to Aurora for bedtime. As reluctant as we were to see them leave, we knew it was important for them to get on the road again. Fortunately, Maddux is a wonderful traveler usually sleeping in his car seat.

They had arrived late Friday night for Tara to pick up Southern Force softball uniforms in Johnston City for her 18-and-under summer traveling team. The next morning Gerald and they headed to Birmingham to make it for Geri Ann’s first game at l0. Geri Ann and parents were there as she was playing with both the 14-and-under and the 16-and-under Southern Force teams. This means she gets to be with her Illinois friends again. Brianna was there cheering her on and ready to come back to Woodsong with her Gpa Gerald and her cousin Tara.

Her dad Brian and brother Trent and Fifi had shown up at midnight Friday for Brian to work on the farm. They had spent the week in their camper near Springfield (Illinois) for Brian to start his new job assignment. Mary Ellen came down today from Lake Saint Louis (Missouri), and she and Brianna went back to a final week in their house there. The plan is to close on their new house on Friday. Everyone is eager for this transition to be over and for them to start their first experience in rural living as a family. (Of course, Brian and Mary Ellen grew up on farms, but it has been years since they have been able to live on one.) Their kids are in for a new lifestyle.

Once again the house is almost empty, but Jeannie and part of her family are coming down Tuesday or Wednesday. The only guest on the place now, however, is the sweet female dog that showed up last weekend while we were gone, Brian said. She has a collar on and she is very friendly. Surely someone is missing her, but inquiries have not yet discovered who.

Spring Breaks and the Western Part of the Trail of Tears through Southern Illinois

Spring breaks have started for our grandchildren. Samuel like all the kids here in Williamson County has been off school this week. And so has Geri Ann down in Georgia, which allowed her to go with her mother to see Erin play softball in Boca Raton. Her sister Tara, husband Bryan, and the two little boys also took a vacation there. Leslie was in Puerto Rico with her church group since Belmont was having spring break.

The Eilers up at Freeport will be off next week, so Jeannie is bringing Cecelie thorough here on their way to visit Les at Belmont while Elijah goes to Mount Rushmore and that region with his high school choir performing most of Showtime at various venues. They’ll be well rehearsed when they get back to perform at Freeport. Trent and Brianna will be off that week also and are going to Florida to see their Grandma Dot.

I wanted to grab some time with Samuel while he was on vacation, so we planned a day trip down to Union County to see the western part of the Trail of Tears through Southern Illinois. We first stopped at the Trail of Tears rest stop on Interstate 57. Oddly, that rest stop has pictures of Cairo but no mention of the Trail of Tears. Our Illinois Chapter of the Trail of Tears Association finally got permission to place brochures there—something Sandy Boaz, Illinois TOTA president, had tried to do for years but wasn’t allowed. But the brochures were all taken the day Sam and I stopped by. We obtained an Illinois road map there, and Sam was able to follow our journey to the west where we were to cross the Mississippi River.

The Trail of Tears rest stop is actually on top of the trail. When I-57 was built, that spot on the highway goes over a short tunnel on the road beneath it, where the Cherokee actually walked. To see that, Sam and I exited I-57 less than a mile down the highway and were on State Route 146, Illinois Designated TOT highway and also the National Park Service’s TOT auto route.

Next we took the first country road to the right and were driving through beautiful rural land, which has been built up with many fine homes in recent years. Soon we were down below I-57 and drove through the tunnel and down the actual Trail. It was chilly enough that we weren’t tempted to get out and hike, and we turned around and went back to the cemetery where Southern Illinois University Carbondale geologist Harvey Henson and his students have located at least 19 graves in the area that oral tradition had always indicated the Cherokee had buried their dead during the bitter cold of December 1838 and January 1839.

Since there had been perhaps as many as 3,000 camping there at one time and more before and after those weeks, it is a sign of land owner George Hileman’s kindness that there were so few deaths. He allowed them to cut down the woods to obtain firewood for warmth, and he sold them corn meal from his grist meal for sustenance to go with the wild game they foraged. He approved their graves in his pasture where he and his wife had buried two small children a few years earlier. Later he was to donate land for the church established there, and he donated more land for the cemetery.

Sandy Boaz, a descendant of Hileman, has been searching for what roads went from Camp Ground over to Jonesboro in the first half of the 19th Century. As a favor, she recently was helping someone with their genealogy questions, and serendipitously found some good hints about the road, which she intends to investigate. She has often talked about Dog Walk Road, and since Sam and I were not on schedule, we decided not to return to Route 146 but to leave on the Camp Ground Road going west until we came to Dog Walk, which we took over to the Lick Creek Road and finally back to Route 146. It took a little longer than it should have since I have no sense of direction, and I turned in the wrong direction on the familiar Lick Creek Road. I turned around when I noticed on the dash we were headed east. On 146 in Anna, we soon were passing the Trail of Tears Junction, the elaborate gas and more station owned by Ron and Deb Charles, who both descended from Cherokee families around Elco.

We were hungry by then, and we stopped at the Country Cupboard, more often called The Potato Barn, created in the old Goddard Feed Store, where county farmers always headed to buy garden seed, tools, and bib overalls as well as feed. As always, the food there was absolutely delicious. I had a bowl of creamy potato soup and a Reuben while Sam had a shrimp basket. I should have ordered either soup or a sandwich since both turned out to be over-sized. I had fun explaining to Sam the complicated family connections to the Bridgeman daughters who own the restaurant now. His great Grandma Ada’s Aunt Ollie Bridgeman is seen holding Sam’s mother in the first baby photo we have of Katherine. Part of the pleasure of going to the Potato Barn is wandering around looking at the antiques and artifacts, so we took time for that before we got back on the Trail.

We left Anna by Heacock Street and down Boettner Hill, and I was able to tell Sam how folks used to block off traffic on a few nights when the snow made that hill a perfect place for sledding. I took him out to the Old Fair Grounds, where Lincoln and Douglas gave one of their 1858 debates while running for the Senate. Sam enjoyed the new statues there of the two famous debaters.

And then it was up to the Jonesboro Square, where the bank stands on the storehouse site of Winstead Davie. Behind the store was his and Anna (Willard) Davie’s home, where the Davies invited Rev. Jesse Bushyhead and his pregnant wife Eliza and another “chief” and his wife and baby to stay with them. The name for this second so-called chief has been confusing, but I am convinced this was native preacher Rev. Stephen Foreman and his wife Sarah and baby boy Jeremiah Evarts Foreman. Darrel Dexter tells us that Davie applied for a license to keep boarders the very day that little Jeremiah was born, and Davie family tradition tells of the Cherokee baby and parents who stayed with them.

On the west side of Davie’s store on the other side of the road from the Old Fair
Grounds was where Davie’s brother-in-law and competitor William Willard had his store. Sadly William never married but died of tuberculosis at age 31 in 1843. His two brothers, Elijah and Willis, ran the two ferries near Willard’s Landing on the Mississippi River. (Some folks still called the Landing by its earlier name—Green’s Landing.)

Sam and I drove down Cook Avenue past the school , and I showed Sam where I grew up. Then we drove as far as the road went to the top of Bauer’s Hill where some Cherokee crossed over and down to the other side to camp at the southern end of Dutch Creek. We came back and got back on Route 146, now also called Willard’s Ferry Road.

Because of the swamps in The Bottoms by the river, the Cherokee were backed up in the Dutch Creek-Clear Creek area. Perhaps as many as 5,000 or more were waiting for the ice floes to melt or float away. We turned at the Lockard Chapel sign onto Berryville Road and explored one of the many routes some of the 11,000 took. As usual I got lost and took a wrong turn before we reached Hamburg Hill and Atwood Tower, but eventually we were back on Route 146 and continued to the village of Ware.

Directly west of Ware was the road that took early travelers to Willard’s Landing, where there was a storehouse and some homes to greet the boats bringing merchandise from Pennsylvania for Davie and Willard’s Jonesboro stores. (The eastern boats came down the Ohio River to Cairo and then up the Mississippi.) Since the river has changed and been changed so radically by levies and flood control since 1838, we have never discovered any residue of Willard’s Landing.. Several Cherokee detachments crossed here including Jesse Bushyhead and his wife Eliza Wilkerson Bushyhead, who gave birth on January 3, 1839, to Eliza Missouri Bushyhead at what is now called Moccasins Springs. There Bushyhead’s sister Nancy Bushyhead Walker Hildebrand died and was buried.

We drove on south now on Route 146 past Ware Baptist Church, where Sam’s mother was enrolled in Sunday School as an infant, We continued on the TOT Auto Route past the fine goose-hunting and corn-growing farms there in The Bottoms. At Reynoldsville, we noted the road crossing called The Old Cape Road, but we kept on the new highway to the Flea Market, where the Route 146 turns back west to cross the bridge to Missouri. In Cape Girardeau, we enjoyed the beautiful murals on the river flood walls u before we turned to go back across the stunning Bill Emerson Bridge into Illinois.


We did take the Old Cape Road on our way back to Jonesboro because no doubt some of the Cherokee detachments went to the ferries at Hamburg Landing through there. Either there or further south, some Cherokee found themselves crossing on the Smith Ferry and going to Cape Girardeau. We got Sam back to his house, so he could get to bed early for the spring vacation trip his dad had planned for him on Friday to Saint Louis sites.

Yesterday I went to Sam’s last Upward basketball game and found out that son-in-law Brian and daughter Brianna had come down late the night before from Lake Saint Louis to their camper up at Wayside Farm. So in between watching softball games for Georgia and Texas A&M, Gerald and I had Samuel with his new puppy Scooter and Brianna .with Fifi to play here at the farm on Saturday afternoon.

That was a good diversion because Gerald is still at a painfully red and quite ugly stage of his skin peel treatment and has been reluctant to get off the farm much. He did take neighbor Scott to Carbondale to catch a train, but they went through the drive-in for breakfast rather than going inside. We hope by his birthday next Sunday, he will have skin as soft as a baby’s. Reckon?

Mid-Winter Mish Mash

One day the weather is Southern Illinois allows us to go coatless; and the next day when we try it, the wind makes us sorry. Today was pretty again although a jacket was in order.


Son-in-law Bryan and Brianna were down from Lake Saint Louis yesterday. Somehow Brianna and Sam ended up at the Illinois Centre Mall, where I spent the day with Southern Illinois Writers Guild members at our fourth annual Winter Book Fair. The mall sets up tables for us in the center section by the fountains, and we sell and sign books and SIWG anthologies while talking to mall strollers. It is always fun to table hop and visit with the other writers as well as talk with past and potential customers. With the economy like it is, no one expects to sell many books.


Brianna had been to the nearby movie theater with the older sister of Sam’s friend Josh. Not only do cousins from afar keep in touch by texting, but they meet and become friends with each other’s friends. Thus, Brianna came from Missouri and ended up at the movies in Illinois with Josh’s sister. Then Sam, who had been under the weather earlier in the day, was feeling better, so son-in-law David brought him out to meet Brianna to explore the mall until we wrapped up the Book Fair at 4 and they could ride out to Woodsong with me.


I needed to buy bananas to give us potassium, and we were out of grapes and getting low on oranges, so we ran by Kroger’s as I had planned and bought sandwiches from the deli there and gas for my near-empty car with our 15 cent discount on the Kroger credit card. Then Brianna, Sam, and I headed out to Woodsong, where Gerald and Brian were finishing up their afternoon projects.


We soon were eating the sandwiches and chips with ice cream and the cookies the kids chose for dessert. (I meant to send the rest of the chocolate milk and those cookies home with one grandchild or the other, so Gerald and I would not be tempted. However, in the concentration to get to Sunday School this morning, I forgot the cookies and milk, so maybe I can take them into Sam’s tomorrow or the next day.)


After helping teach our preschoolers during Sunday School, I stayed on for the extended session during worship. One of our high schoolers came in to help me. It pleases me when teens like Cody come in, because I can remember well many years ago when our son Gerry and his friend Tom were among the boys who helped with the babies and toddlers and preschoolers. Always under the direction of an adult, of course. What real training those sessions were for parenthood.


Worship must have been through hymns today and a little shorter than usual as our interim pastor became ill and had to go home before the service started. Cody said maybe it was a good thing he was not in the choir that long as he was tired. He had not slept well last night, so he got up and texted his friend over in Britain, where the sun was shining. Nevertheless, tired or not, he interacted with the children who keep us hopping.


Preschoolers crave watchful attention, and we give it. One-year-old Caleb delights himself when with intense concentration he learns to manipulate various toys or blocks. Then my heart melts when he looks up to make sure I am watching to admire his achievement. To know my watching means that much to him is as great a reward as our mutual handclapping when he gets the blocks stacked right or places the coin in the slot on the little toy farm barn that he gravitates to every Sunday.


After church, we headed down to the Old Home Place at Goreville to introduce the Taylors and Sam to Patrick and Tina’s new restaurant. Our meal was delicious but plentiful, so three take-home boxes were asked for. Sam left with Brian and Brianna for them to drop him off in Marion on their way back to Missouri.


Gerald wanted to check out an uncommon way back to the farm, so we wandered through country roads like Webb Town road, where we passed the Glen Webb Family Farm established in 1856, and on to roads with names like Wagon Creek Road and Creal Springs Road and finally back to Route 166 where we would turn off onto New Dennison Road and be home to check the softball scores.


The Georgia Dogs had had another good weekend with four shut-out victories in the Black and Red Showcase there at Athens. However, after winning a 14-inning game Wednesday at Huntsville, Texas, against Sam Houston and winning against them again on Friday in the opener at the Easton Tiger Classic at Baton Rouge, Texas A&M had a bad hair day yesterday losing to Ohio State and LSU. Then in bracket play today, they were ahead of LSU until the bottom of the sixth, when LSU rallied with three runs. A&M lost 3 to 4, so I know Vickie and Geri Ann left Louisiana with heavy hearts just as Erin did traveling back to College Station. But Coach Jo Evans was upbeat about all the things the girls did right.


With no church services tonight to allow our pastor to recuperate, we watched some TV, and I am reflecting early on the past week to write this blog. There was the trip up to Rend Lake College to the little restored school house on campus, where Lori Ragsdale had a reception to announce all the life-long learning opportunities coming up. I gave my pitch for our tour through Southern Illinois to revisit the Trail Where the Cherokee Cried. Since it was Lincoln’s birthday, Lori had arranged for Abe and Mary Lincoln performers to give a brief program too. Of course, I was also thinking about granddaughter Geri Ann's 15th birthday.


As always when I am passing by and have time, I pulled off at the Sesser exit at Whittington and visited the Southern Illinois Arts and Artisans Center. It truly is a visual buffet, and although I can’t afford the expensive art objects there, I like looking. I was able to pick up some books and items from the bargain table.


I stayed in Marion to attend Sam’s winter band concert, and before I headed home, I stopped off at Latta Java and was able to hear the last couple SIWG readers there.


Gerald had gone on an Angel Flight with his friend Herman Hood to Arkansas to pick up a patient in route to hospital treatments. I wasn’t sure if he would be at home when I returned or not. He had been playing with going down to Louisville, KY, to the annual farm show after the Angel Flight, but he was back at home asleep in his armchair watching television (ha) when I returned to Woodsong.


The next morning at 3:30 I woke up to see a wide-awake husband with his cap already on and a dance in his step as he scooped his change from the dresser and anticipated his adventure heading to Louisville. I wasn’t surprised, because I knew he really wanted to see all the new stuff that would be on display down there in the acres and acres under roof. I was surprised when he called before 6 that night and instead of staying all night in Louisville as he and his brothers’ custom was for years, he was already back in Illinois and heading home wanting to know if he should pick up supper in Harrisburg or would I like to celebrate with a Valentine’s dinner in Marion. I figured he must be tired, so I let him choose and soon we were eating a lovely dinner at my favorite restaurant in town.


It has been a good week with one afternoon spent studying Gary Hacker’s new book on the Trail of Tears through Johnson County and now several new books from Southern Illinois writers waiting for me to find time to read or at least skim through them. While I sat at the mall yesterday, I was able to read Joanne Blakely’s just published beautiful poetry chapbook. I certainly recommend it and Gary’s book.

Busy Week Did Not Help My Absent Mindedness

Well, I just this moment discovered that I did not blog on Wednesday night. Why? I have no idea! I proudly announced at Writers Guild on Thursday night that I blog twice a week, and I thought I was telling the truth. It did not occur to me then or until now that I somehow missed Wednesday night. What was I doing Wednesday night? I have no idea. Probably surfing. Or maybe I went to bed early. I cannot even remember. Ah well.

As I have written before, I have been absent minded all my life, and unfortunately aging has not improved things. Well, that is not quite true. I use a lot of tricks and techniques now that I did not know to use as a younger person. I write lists and mark off tasks accomplished. I try to keep everything on a calendar. I establish routines and know to do certain things automatically. (Writing on Wednesday night is one of those certain things, which shows that technique is not fool proof.) Enough of this nonsense. I just called myself a fool, and I totally disapprove of that, so I will be quiet about my failure and get on with tonight’s blog.

It has been a busy week. My daughter Katherine’s aide had finally gotten back her car from being repaired and took her children to school Monday morning. Then a semi-truck driver ran a stop sign and plowed into her and totaled that car. She was very grateful her daughters had already been dropped off when the truck slammed into her car. She was injured too much to work again until Friday.

As I mentioned, we had Southern Illinois Writers Guild on Thursday night, and it was great to hear Harry Spiller speak again. We’ve missed him since he retired from the college last spring, and we recognized him with a plaque and a life membership in the guild, which he sponsored from 2001-2008.

As a former English teacher, who always considered myself a linguist as opposed to a grammarian, I enjoyed again hearing him confess how he had always failed English and was considered hopeless by those who taught people how to write. Of course, none of those discouragers have ever written a book, and Harry has published twelve now and is read by scores of people, who would never had read the English teachers’ books if they had written any. Having a story to tell beats correct grammar anytime in my opinion. I felt the same way about public speaking. I used to tell students that having a good speaking voice and good delivery was worse than worthless if there was no content there worth delivering.

Speaking of stories to tell, Gerald and I took the three grandkids here at Woodsong this weekend—Trent, Brianna, and Sam—down to Vienna this afternoon to hear Tony Gerard’s newest one-man enactment. That is not quite accurate. Perhaps we should say one-man and one-dog enactment. Gerard was accompanied by his huge beautiful dog Pelo, who was very important to his impersonation of an 18th century American hunter.

His fictional character Jean-Baptiste was the son of a French man and a Kaskaskia Indian mother. Fortunately, before his father drowned when Jean-Baptiste was a little boy, his father encouraged him to learn English in addition to the French and Kaskaskian. And though he struggled with this third language, he was able to communicate with us in his heavy accent as he struggled for the right English vocabulary. Jean-Baptiste was an excellent story teller.

Gerard said he collected those stories from others’ tales in his reading of history and from his own experience. Without mastery of the English language, Jean-Baptiste was nevertheless quite compelling. He had great ability to help us visualize with his hands as he acted out his adventures.

Pelo’s sweet gentle nature was apparent as he wandered amongst us and charmed us. Yet we had no trouble believing Jean-Baptiste that Pelo was friendly with people but vicious with bears. Gerard’s knowledge of history was amazing as he answered impromptu questions from the audience.

Of course, I had to admit to Mary Ellen and Brian when they came back from their weekend trip tonight that my own knowledge of that era is so limited that I would not have recognized a factual mistake if I had heard one. But part of Gerard’s talent is to make his character so believable that you do not doubt that Jean-Baptiste was being accurate in his account of his life in the 18th century here in our part of the state.

We understood that he did not know what year it was nor did not understand why the Fench missionaries said Jesus wanted him to only have one wife. We also could clearly see that here was a man who knew the woods and the animals and the people who roamed them with first-hand knowledge, and he did not need mastery of the English grammar to share those stories.

Where Is It? Let's See Now

Mary Ellen called from up the road apiece on Friday that they had discovered the controller for the TV in the den was accidentally in their basket of games picked up just before they left our place to head to their other family’s home. Should they return it? Naw, just wait until Christmas when you come down. They can also then retrieve Trent's black left-foot shoe (a thong it is too cold to wear often now). Later Mary Ellen reports that Elijah’s coat was left in their camper. Brianna’s coat, however, was left at Geri Ann’s Grandma Shirley’s house.

Leslie and Gerald assured me that Erin’s winter A&M jacket was left behind at Woodsong deliberately because she won’t need it down there until she is back for Christmas break. So it is in the coat closet waiting for her. Geri Ann’s charger for her I pod is ready to be taken to the post office. Trent’s Nintendo is on the table in the den. Jeannie left behind ingredients she brought down for a cooking project she started but didn’t get to finish. Someone’s electric toothbrush is still in the guest bathroom. I recovered my purple comb from Katherine’s vanity yesterday, where evidently someone must have been primping with it there.

Katherine got tickled thinking that all over America, families are trying to find and retrieve and figure out where their possessions are after all the Thanksgiving holidays. Most families in our area try to visit both sides of their families, and it is a challenge to keep belongings under control.

I used to marvel many years ago at the goodness and the energy used when my daughter-in-law would bring her little ones to my parents’ home in Goreville and then hurry on to another Christmas Eve gathering at her grandparents. The next day after she and Gerry observed Christmas morning at their house, they would come to ours for Christmas dinner and then onto her folks’ home for yet another dinner.

After the grandparents no longer had their observances on Christmas Eve, life did temporarily get simpler. However, now Gerry and Vickie are in far-off Georgia. Tara, their oldest, is in Aurora far north of us. We are all eagerly awaiting the birth of Tara and Bryan’s second son any day now, so holiday celebrations are definitely complicated. We will welcome whoever is able to show up before, on, or after Christmas.

Jeannie and Rick are entertaining his family at their house for the first time this year, so they won’t be down from Freeport either. She’ll experience left-behind objects at her house no doubt.

We received our first Christmas card on Saturday from cousin Valerie, who wins that contest every year. Our second card came today. I better start thinking about mine. When we can’t get together with friends and family at this time of year, it is lovely to connect by mail. And belongings stay in their rightful place when we visit by that method.

Fifi's Loaning Me Her Rubber Chicken

My three-week search for a rubber chicken for VBS has been successful. Brianna told me Sunday afternoon that Fifi has a rubber chicken. I called Mary Ellen the next day to double check and told her to ask Fifi if I could borrow it. Everyone agreed Fifi said yes. Brianna said Fifi didn’t like the old thing anyway. Now if the Taylor household can locate Fifi’s rubber chicken and not forget to bring it down to Woodsong, I have escaped the dreaded thought that I was supposed to spend $l0 on one. (I had decided as a matter of principal that I would not, but I had not been able to think of another way to pull off the on-going gag each day about the safety of the captain’s pet parrot.)

The called-for colorful ten-foot “parachute” was neatly packaged and delivered to my front porch today while I was away. I have never played with a pretend parachute before, so I have to learn how to explain to the children how to rolls balls around on it and flip them off. Kim coached me tonight. (I still better read those suggestions in my leader’s book again.) Probably some of the kids have already done this and can teach me.

In the same box was my copy of The Cherokee Trail of Tears by photographer David Fitzgerald and with text by Duane King. I had just finished reading Marilyn Schild’s copy she loaned me, and it was so beautiful that I had to add it to my TOT books. I wish I had time to sit down and read it again.

Sonja filled the side of our garage with inflated animals yesterday while I was gone, and tonight I hauled them to a storage room at church. My back seat was filled with sharks, whales, a sea horse, a flamingo, and other air-stuffed objects to use in and around the tropical island I am supposed to create for our games. These are joining the stuffed cat that Charlene has loaned me and the monkeys from Samuel’s house.

The dining room table is still covered with boxes, papers, and the things I had laminated yesterday for the children to use. Tomorrow will be my first day at home this week, so I will need to finalize plans and make efforts to clear that table before grandkids start arriving.

We were saddened when our crop of seven ducklings quickly reduced to three. Gerald was somewhat comforted, however, by getting to see a nest full of baby quail make an appearance.

The ducks and geese cross our lane all day long going to the wheat field for the grain left behind after Scott combined it. Something about an approaching car causes them to want to go from whichever side of the lane they are on to the other side. I slow down and talk to them as I wait. I talk sweet when I am feeling patient. When I am not, I tell them to get off the road. They don’t act like they hear me. Reckon they have bird brains?

We received a gentle half inch rain last night and another during the day today while Gerald and I were both off the farm. As I went in and out of stores this afternoon, the rain wasn't good for the new perm I got this morning, but Gerald says this is just the right time for Brian’s pollinating corn.