Finally SIWG Meets Again

A week before I did not go to our village church business meeting because of the icy roads. Since the meeting was postponed, I attended this week in spring-like weather. I was glad I did. because we were able to vote to give $500 to our homeless shelter in nearby Marion that feeds many families, vote for Jo Barger to begin making plans for a free monthly fellowship meal and social time for local senior citizens, and renew our commitment to our church food pantry for families in need. (Oddly despite increased unemployment, we had ended up with donated food in our pantry growing old. So we had to empty it and quickly give items to the homeless shelter to avoid waste.) Now we will have a volunteer to take charge of the pantry and a plan to insure the pantry is emptied at the end of each month by taking it to some family, who can use it. There were other good ideas and good deeds discussed, and it was a worthwhile evening.

Then last night--again in warm weather but with March-like winds whipping car doors closed and making steering difficult—we finally had a Southern Illinois Writers Guild meeting at our community college. Years ago we quit meeting in December because of members’ busy schedules, and then this year bad weather caused our January meeting to be cancelled. So it was truly good to see everyone again.

It was inspiring to hear Heather Stewart Harris, a young middle-school teacher, tell openly of her bi-polar illness, which caused her to feel a need to share her story so that more people can understand that mental illness is not something to be ashamed of. The title of her book The Love That Will Not Let Me Go was based on the hymn her pastor shared with her during her hospitalization. She expressed her awe that the lyrics published by George Mattheson in 1882 were exactly what she needed during the 21st Century to help her heal. She expressed appreciation for the right doctor and proper meds as she learned to overcome her extreme perfectionism that had haunted her throughout life.

A highlight for me was seeing Charlotte Hartley back after several years’ absence while she focused on her career as a speech language pathologist in the public schools. She reported that after being immersed by her career, she now in retirement has time to read and write again. Her presence was especially meaningful to me because she presented me with a chapter book Cherokee Boy by Alexander Key published in 1957. I did not know of this book, and I started reading it today.

Erin is in Starksville, Mississippi, with the Salukis this weekend, and University of Georgia is hosting its second at-home tourney. Gerald and I are listening to the audio on his computer. He is coughing and try to recover from the winter cold he probably caught last weekend. DuWayne, a softball enthusiast, had so much fun last weekend that he is back at Athens at the Jack Turner Stadium again this weekend with his wife Vickie.

Took Two Grandmothers

Whew! Just finished two of the busiest weeks of my life with house guests for 14 days straight. All family, so no real stress—just lots of fun. Most were grandkids or their friends, and they were all very well behaved since they are growing up real fine! But time was taken with VBS, funeral visitations, and meals for five to twelve oft times. Groups overlapped, and it wasn’t always possible to visit with individuals the way I would have liked to do.

Gerry came in Wednesday night and picked up his daughter Geri Ann and two other Georgia Southern Force players, Courtney and Samantha, who been dropped off earlier on their way home from a Chicago-area tourney. Vickie and another player dropped off Geri Ann and Courtney on Sunday evening—not even coming in the house--and then drove all night to reach home in Georgia. On Monday, Sam’s parents and sister dropped her off after a visit with central Illinois grandparents

When Gerry arrived Wednesday night, the girls had their gear packed after three days of visiting friends in Johnston City, boat riding, fishing, and relaxing. They watched a lot ot television and a video that Geri Ann found of one of her cousin Elijah’s plays. When Lacey, who plays on the local Southern Force team, stayed all night here, she took them to Marion for snow cones. They visited Gma Shirley down the road and she insisted of cooking their supper. Softball players live such disciplined regimented lives that it was good to see them plan their own agenda while they were at Woodsong.

Since it would be raining down the highway, they put their suitcases in black garbage bags before putting them in the back of Gerry’s pickup, where Gerald added the new batting tees he had worked hard in this summer heat to complete before Gerry arrived. They too drove all night after leaving here and arrived in Georgia the next morning.

I had two down days to relax myself, put fresh sheets on all the beds, catch up on some reading, and thought I might blog yesterday for the first time since the flurry of activity started.

However, Tara phoned Friday night explaining she and the boys (aged 4 years, 19 months, and four months) were coming down for a tourney Saturday afternoon at the softball stadium at Southern Illinois University Carbondale, where the local Southern Force team was playing.. She was just stopping by on her way to her parents’ home in Georgia for a practice of the Georgia Southern Force team, who would go from there to College Station, Texas, to play in the nationals there.

We immediately put our heads in gear to see how we could take our turn helping with the three great grandsons. Tara handles them with great calmness and efficiency—it is sweet to see three little outfits and shoes all laid out in a row the night before. Gerald wanted to see Lacey and the Johnston City girls play, so he was the logical one to drive with Tara and Aidan, the four-year-old, to the game. Aidan, just like Tara and Gerald, would not pay any attention to the sweltering heat.

It hurt my ego to admit that I could not handle the two younger boys by myself since Tara, a tiny thing, lugs three little ones around so easily, but I knew I could not. So Gma Shirley came to the rescue and arrived to help. Believe me, we kept busy all afternoon! We both enjoyed all the snuggling, rocking, giggling, singing, and playing with our mutual grandsons. Maddux kept wanting to go outside, and Gma Shirley finally accommodated him for a brief time after it cooled off a tiny bit, but Maddux was sweating when he came in and I think he understood why we had been telling him it was hot, hot, hot outside.

The gamers arrived back with pizza in the early evening, and Tara took a brief nap downstairs while Gma Shirley and I had final loving-time with Payton. It had cooled off, and Gerald was outside taking Aidan and Maddux on all the rides they demand when they are here—the lawn mower, the tractor, the “mule,” and the boat. And they both had to hit off the little tee fixed for them. I even “caught” a few balls off the ground and threw back for them. Soon Tara was up and organized as always and had all three happily in their row of car seats in the back. She would be driving all night to reach Georgia and was planning on the boys sleeping.. I am sure Gma Shirley and I were both saying a silent prayer for their safety as they drove off in the dark. We went back inside tired but pleased with our afternoon.

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.