Keith DuWayne Glasco, Sr. (Aug. 8, 1937 to Feb. 16, 2017)

On a beautiful rural hillside caressed by balmy warm weather, we said goodbye to the body of Gerald's youngest brother after his long fight with heart problems. We knew Keith was in a better place and no longer in that beautiful wood coffin as we listened to the final words of his pastor. Barbara's parents and others of Keith's family were already buried in this rural cemetery not far from Keith and Barbara's home where the long funeral procession had stopped briefly for Keith's dog Hash to join us for this final farewell.

Our great niece Jennifer Jade Escue from Kansas City hurried to our car and joined Gerald helping me tranverse the upward climb on the soft thawed groud to the tent waiting over the grave site. Before we left, all were invited to go on to the church fellowship hall a hill or so away. Amid the visiting, some were taking a rose from flower arrangements to remember Keith with. Keith had been honored in every way his many friends and family could accomplish.

From Thursday morning when Gerald along with others of Keith's family saw Keith peacefully breathe his last breaths shortly after his pastor had visited and offered what turned out to be a final prayer with him, everyone wanted to remember all the good things Keith and Barbara had done for others.

Our granddaughter Leslie was already up in northern Illinois for the high school state speech contest on Saturday that her sister Cecelie was in, so Les had planned to stop at the farm on way home to Nashville. Now our daughter Jeannie and husband Rick also came down to grieve with us. It was good to be able to worship with them on Sunday morning. Although a previous appointment made it impossible for Leslie to stay over for the funeral, she did delay her drive back to Tennessee until after the visitation for Keith.  There she was not only able to see our daughter Mary Ellen and husband Brian but her cousins Trent and Brianna as well as more  distant cousins--some of whom she had never met.

Sunday evening we gathered at the funeral home on the Jonesboro Square, where in the past we have said goodbye to so many family members and friends.The line of grievers soon reached the bank next door, and the people kept coming until time to go home. While some had arrived from a distance, most were neighbors and local friends. Barbara and her sons and their spouses and the grandchildren and great grandchildren were hugged over and over as they listened to the expressed grief and affection. Sometimes tears came down the cheeks of those already missing their friend, and sometimes laughs and smiles were shared.

The next morning we gathered there again for a funeral service that was joyful and reassuring as we bid farewell to the dear one peacefully lying there with his hands holding one of his late brother Kenny's pocket knives and also a little metal angel a great grandson wanted Grampy to have. The pall bearers had been asked to wear jeans with black shirts, and the word had gotten around so those garments were seen throughout the congregation as well. I was silently thanking God that our son Gerry had arrived safely at 4:30 that morning after driving all night. His cousin DuWayne had tried to dissuade him from making that hurried trip, so I did not bother. I did try to not take away any of the very brief rest time he had at our house, but I was glad to visit with him a bit at that bountiful feast the church provided in the large fellowship hall packed with people. Soon Gerry would start the trip back to Texas to be at batting practice the next day, and we took Jeannie and Rick to their car to start their long trip upstate.

Twelve Days of Christmas--or More

Our Christmas was different, but it was a good one. Our first pre-Christmas guests were Gerry and Vickie and Geri Ann, who had already had their family celebration at College Station. We had a good breakfast with Glasco kin at Cracker Barrell the morning after they arrived around midnight. There was a second Glasco breakfast there a week later when was Jamie Escue was home from Louisiana, but I was at Katherine's the evening before and didn't get to go to that breakfast. Gerry and Geri Ann were giving two softball clinics in this area while here, and Gerald even went along to the second one and was impressed. As well as to be with the Johnson and Glasco family celebrations, Vickie was here to help her mother who was recovering from surgery

Gerry did not stay as long as the other two.Vickie took Gerry up the Friday before Christmas to catch a 4:30 a.m. plane to south Texas for hunting and bird dog work, which Gerry loves so much that it is more fun than work. We fed him favorite foods that we had stuck in the freezer to save for him since he could not be here for the Thanksgiving feast. On Christmas day, he was texting Vickie trying to get pity for missing the family dinners and claiming to eat from a bag of chips, but I refused to feel even a mite of pity. His hunting work continued through the New Year celebration when Vickie and their three grandsons joined him for the weekend, and he really enjoyed himself then.

Jeannie and Rick with Cecelie came through Woodsong for a brief overnight visit on their way down to Nashville to spend Christmas with Leslie and Mike. With Geri Ann here from Oregon and Sam here from Baylor, and the Taylor kids off school, they made the most of Cecelie's visit. They also made plans then for a second cousins' celebration the day after Christmas when Cecelie would be back through and Elijah also would be driving up after his Nashville visit. In fact, Vickie agreed to stay an extra day just so the six youngest of the cousins could have yet another night together, and Sam's special friend Anna joined them since they consider her one of the cousins. (When I say night together, I am not exaggerating. They started early and left Woodsong for dinner in Carbondale and a movie and I think a bowling alley visit and ended up at Woodsong where the hardiest of them stayed up till 4 a.m. I was told. Since that was about the time Vickie and Geri Ann were gathering up their suitcases and three dogs to drive to College Station, I am not sure Geri Ann ever went to bed.) That same night Jeannie and Rick and I saw the same movie, Fences, in Marion. That was a late night out on the town for me, but I think we were probably home soon after l0, and Jeannie and I did not talk too late since they were also driving home the next day.

Christmas Day itself was a small affair for us, but quite lovely for me since once again Mary Ellen had us over to their farm for dinner. Vickie and Geri Ann enjoyed the Johnson celebration on Saturday, and her mother was up to that gathering.  On Sunday, they attended church at Stonefort with her brothers' families and were very happy to hear Louie and Terry sign together. The Taylors and us worshipped in Marion together and enjoyed beautiful music, the sermon, and seeing friends. While the Taylors went on to the farm and check the ham and last minute meal preparations, we were able to go by Katherine's and give her pills before lunch. Later Mary Ellen and I took her in Christmas dinner, and Mary Ellen fed her, and we all enjoyed the Christmas tree Sam had put up in her bedroom  the night before for the special dinner he prepared and the evening they had together. Geri Ann and Brianna came adding to the afternoon  festivities, and our visit probably wore her out before we finally departed.

Mary Ellen's house was decorated inside and out this year; and when we drove by, we had already been enjoying Brian's white star on the barn—the same star the Rix family put up there for years. As we stepped into their large kitchen and were greeted by Fifi, our eyes were delighted with her lovely colorful table with its many candles and places waiting for the nine of us. Our noses were delighted with the wonderful smells, and soon our mouths were rewarded with all the good food they had waiting for us. Sam arrived from going to church with Anna and Vickie and Geri Ann were there.  Like Gerry, Fifi wanted us to feel sorry for her not having the yummy food; but remembering her vet's warning after she got sick on human food, I did not give her a mite of pity either. After we had indulged in the dessert table with its colorful fruit, pies, Brianna's angel food cake and the chocolate covered peanut butter drops she had also made, we all gathered by the tree in the living room to exchange gifts and stories. (I love the stories about the pinball machine decorating one back corner of their living room.) We were all having so much fun and laughter that Trent almost forgot that he was supposed to be at work by 2, but he wasn't very late.  Sam was able to go on and help his little niece celebrate her first birthday at his brother Davie and Krissy"s house.

The day after Christmas I enjoyed visiting with family still at the farm, but I was saddened to attend the funeral of a writer friend.  Jari Jackson had asked for a "journalist funeral."  The funeral director and her pastor were not sure what that meant, but Mayor Bob Butler, Jon Musgrave, and  Pastor Bob Dickerson did an excellent job of creating one for a long time journalist who wrote for big city papers and then retired in her hometown and continued writing pro bono promoting good things here.

Gerald and I celebrated New Year's Eve by driving into Marion and having our evening meal at the new I-HOP, which we had not yet visited. Waitresses with bright clothing and bright smiles greeted us warmly as we entered, the food was delicious, and everything was so new and clean. We were surprised at how large it was, which will be great next summer for the baseball crowds.

Altogether it was a very nice Christmas season despite our no longer all being together on one day and despite the horror of multiple sclerosis. Our one tree is still up and quite beautiful to me. I usually leave a tree up until New Year's Day because that is what we did at our house when I was a child in Jonesboro. Once or twice, however, when the weather was so bad the kids had school cancelled, I left a tree up till Old Christmas that I learned about from Jesse Stuart, a day some English immigrants continued down in Kentucky and which some Amish still do.  Tomorrow is Old Christmas or Epiphany and our tree will be there to help us celebrate. The truth is I am leaving it up till I get around to it, maybe during the weekend or maybe afterward. Taking off all the ornaments and putting them away in their proper box and then pulling the tree apart takes up a large part of a day, and the family room will be a jumble until the job is finally finished. So my twelve days of Christmas may stretch out to fourteen or so.  

Happiness Is

Happiness is seeing Katherine smiling in bed with a pile of Sam’s photos on her lap. The framed one of him in his Baylor band uniform was especially good looking, and now it and the others are over on her bookshelf where she can see them from her bed. Sam’s girl friend’s mother had been down to Waco to see her daughter Anna, and she brought the photos over when she came to visit Katherine and report on the Texas visit.

Happiness is the relief on Brian and Mary Ellen’s faces knowing harvest was good and is all done for another year. Now they are ready to enjoy Brian’s mother’s visit from Arizona. And Mary Ellen and Brianna are ready to travel up to Freeport to see niece and cousin Cecelie in Beauty and the Beast.

Happiness is not one new job but two for grandson Trent. One at the college—something to do with computers and the Internet, which is what he is studying and excelling in. (You can tell by my vagueness how little I understand this new age we live in.) The other job is at the theater, and I know how much Trent enjoys and understands the film world, so I like thinking about his getting to be in the theater with the new films. I do not see Trent much now; and with two jobs plus college classes, I can expect to see him even less, but I am so proud of his ambition and hard work.

Happiness for my son Gerry is and has always been tramping in the fields with a bird dog. Right now he is training newly acquired dogs and loving it. Lots of other things make him happy too, but this bird dog hobby lets him be outside enjoying autumn. Adding a grandson or so to the mix even makes his pleasure greater.

Happiness for Gerald has always included being useful and working hard for others. As always, he is doing just that. I appreciate that he has time to pitch in and help me with little things more than when he spent long hours working at the barns or in the fields.

Happiness for all of us has been knowing Gerald’s youngest brother Keith is feeling better under the care of DuWayne’s doctor. When a Glasco brother is too sick to meet up with the others for breakfast, it is concerning. His brother Garry also was recently unable to meet others for breakfast. Garry’s family has had a flurry of hurt ankles: Vera’s broken in a car wreck, Vicki Sue hurt for awhile from a trip and fall, and Kerry out of commission the remainder of the harvest season when he broke his ankle so severely that the doctor warned he must not do anything or he might mess up those pins. So Garry came out of retirement and finished harvest! But this week on Tuesday, Gerald was able to go down to the Jonesboro restaurant to meet his brothers and nephews and be spoiled by the sweet waitress there. He came home in a very good mood.

Happiness is having a grandchild in the house. Leslie and Mike arrived at Woodsong from Nashville on their way to Freeport to see Cecelie’s show but also to pick up a new car in Madison. They will be leaving, Leslie hopes, by 6 in the morning, but it is nice to have them sleeping here tonight.

Happiness for me has always been when I know my loved ones are content and enjoying what life brings them. And there has been a lot of that lately. There has been a lot of difficulties too, of course, but happiness is dwelling on the good things and being grateful.

"Ate Up With Softball"

A few years back, one of our son Gerry’s cousins pronounced him “ate up with softball.” No one argued. What with his own coaching and his three daughters playing on various teams, their family spent much time at the ballpark. Consequently, so did Gerald and I. And also his siblings and their families when time and location allowed them to attend and cheer the three daughters on.

Starting with watching Tara play summer ball at age 7 or 8, then Erin even earlier with a coed team, and finally Geri Ann on the diamond, we often filled our spring, summer, and fall calendars with dates of the various games since school teams were added when the girls reached the age for that.

Their mother Vickie, who had also played softball, coached some of the early teams, but then Geri Ann was born. Vickie became an expert at watching her older daughters and keeping Geri Ann happy at the same time. I remember Gerry saying once when Geri Ann was about two that she had already attended 2000 games or some other hyperbolic number.

By the time Geri Ann was ready to play, the local park teams started at an even earlier age. I know her buddy and teammate Allison was a tiny three-year-old when I first watched her play—so Geri Ann must have started playing at four. They didn’t keep score with these kids, but no one competing for a state championship could have been more determined and competitive than Allison. Home runs were frequent, and balls in the outfield required movement by committee. Daddies were ready to comfort any hurt or disappointed player—whether it was his child or someone else’s. We have photos of these kids playing, but I don’t need them because the mental “photographs” still exist, and they make me smile.

We have a large collection of lawn chairs from those days, and I still wear some clothes I rushed up to the dollar store to add to my original clothing at one spring all-day tourney at Johnston City. (The wind was much colder than I expected.) I have watched ball in winter coats and gloves with a blanket added and also watched with sweat blurring my eyesight. I have frozen on the aluminum bleachers and come home with a sun burn despite sunscreen.

One of the results of Gerry’s family moving from nearby Johnston City to Georgia, where Gerry is assistant softball coach to Lu Harris-Champer of the Georgia Bulldogs, is that our social life has diminished locally. Of course we had already gone to California, Georgia, Michigan, Alabama, Iowa, and other away places to watch the granddaughters as they progressed to college ball. And then after her college graduation, Tara began coaching, and we had to see her games when they were close enough and we had the time.

With Erin at Texas A&M last year, we couldn’t go to many of the games, but we discovered we could watch or more accurately listen to game tracker on the computer and sometimes even a video of the game. Thus, Gerald and I found ourselves in his office eating meals and cheering as we watched.

Well, the college softball season started this weekend, and we were at his computer watching again on Friday and Saturday. Texas A&M was hosting a tournament there, and Vickie was in the stands to cheer Erin. Gerry was at a tourney in Cathedral City, CA, with the University of Georgia team. (Geri Ann was in friends as she had a high school basketball game to play.) Gerry's games were not on game tracker that we could find at least. We had to keep up with his team by phone calls or emails from the Georgia website. Both of “our” teams won their two Friday games, and both split yesterday.

I was relieved they did not play today, so we did not have to rush home from church with Gerald getting the game going in his office downstairs while I hurriedly fixed us a bite to eat and carry down. We were having a Valentine potluck after worship at church today, and I am really glad we didn’t miss it.

Shirley Butler had outdone herself making the basement dining room absolutely gorgeous. She has great talent for decorating. (Her daughter’s wedding reception in our outdoor pavilion was the prettiest fairyland I even attended.) Adding to the fun was a beautiful birthday cake for our interim pastor’s wife, also named Shirley, who had driven out to join us. The cake featured bright red roses and a black piano in honor of this Shirley’s talent. (She plays at her church in town, but she frequently manages to come to our six o’clock evening service. When she and Kim Barger play together, I feel as if this must be what the music in Heaven will be like.)

Barbecue and Italian beef sandwiches from Patrick and Tina Barger’s new restaurant in Goreville was our featured main dish. The aroma was wonderful when we went down the stairway, and the sandwiches were as good as they smelled. As always there was a multitude of congregation-brought side dishes and desserts.

I had taken baked beans because at our last gathering our friend Eddy Wiley was there all the way from a not-so-close village hoping I’d brought the baked beans he liked as a teenager. And that I have taken especially for him many times since. I like to send the beans and left-over German chocolate cake home with him. But that day I had not fixed them.

Of course, today when I did fix them, Eddy wasn’t there. (No one had thought to send him word.) So I sent the remaining ones home with someone with kids since Gerald and I can’t eat them. Some of the left-over cake was used on the plates Shirley Butler was fixing for shut-ins, and I left the rest in the car, so we wouldn’t be tempted here at Woodsong. It will be delivered to Katherine’s family tomorrow. But we will be eating a barbecue sandwich tomorrow. Shirley was encouraging everyone to take sandwiches home. I couldn’t resist that. All the food sharing is part of the fun and fellowship in our village.

Also tomorrow we’ll have to get softball game times off the schedules and in our minds for next weekend. Some folks might say that Gerald and I too are “ate up with softball.”

Coming and Going

The presidential candidates are all over the map meeting up with America’s citizens to win their votes. The citizens themselves also find travel much more a part of their lives than any other time in history. Not very long ago, it was not unusual for someone to say when someone died that the person had always lived in a certain locale and had never been further than the nearest city. After the Depression, many young men and a few young women served overseas during World War II. As that Greatest Generation dies off and leaves us, we read in their obituaries of the foreign soils they traveled to.

With the cheap gas of the last decades, Americans have enjoyed and become habituated to going and coming often more limited by time than expense. People have to commute to work in places miles away. Many folk travel to shopping in larger cities without much thought. Then as our local stores went out of business, we began to find out we didn’t have anywhere else to shop but at larger communities in our regions.

Gerald and I were so tied down by livestock on the farm that we couldn’t travel for years and looked forward to that opportunity in retirement. In fact, as soon as Gerald retired from farming, his first project was buying a new truck and modifying it to haul efficiently. For the next three years, he worked as a trucker—whenever he chose to take a trip or whenever he could get a load. He loved going all over and seeing the industries back in the mountains or learning to navigate in a new city. When he travels in the same territory today, he still likes recalling those trips, and he is constantly aware of other truckers and can get envious in a hurry when he sees a beautiful truck.

Gerald left for Columbus, GA, yesterday in order to see Geri Ann’s Oconee High School softball team in the state tourney this afternoon. His plans were to stop in Nashville for a dinner date with Leslie, his blond granddaughter at Belmont University.

This is also the weekend that Erin is using some flier miles to come from Texas into Nashville. She and Les will also be having dinner together. Erin will meet a fellow Johnston City friend there and they’re driving home to Johnston City for another friend’s wedding.

I don’t even know where all Gerry’s work has taken him during the past two weeks. I do know he was able to see his grandson Aidan briefly last weekend while in Chicago. And he and Vickie like the other softball parents will be in Columbus motels right now. Tara wanted in the worst way to go with Gerald to see her little sis in the state tourney, but she knew she needed to stay in Aurora. Her December due date is taking its toll on her traveling comfort. But Mary Ellen’s family is excited that she is to be coaching in Lake Saint Louis next weekend for a Southern Force tourney. I’m excited that Jeannie’s family will be spending Halloween night here (briefly) as they arrive from Freeport on their way to spend weekend with Leslie in Nashville.

I was planning on going to the Georgia tourney also, but my doctor on Monday felt it was a risk with me still healing from the blood clot in my leg that had caused the lung clots. So I am at Woodsong instead of on a trip, but I have had a variation in my life style.

Son-in-law David is working in California this week, so I’ve been going into town to spend nights with Katherine and Sam. I come back home during the day. Katherine had a tysabri infusion yesterday and her morning aide was able to drive her to the hospital. Suddenly Tuesday night she realized she needed a ride home and both David and her dad would both be out of town. Fortunately, the evening aide came to get her instead of coming later in the evening.

Gerald believed I could drive the van, which has a lift for Katherine’s chair, but I never have and I was fearful of trying with no one to back me up if I failed. The only time I tried to drive the van, I did not get out of Katherine’s driveway. I quit to avoid hitting Sam’s basketball goal with the projecting side mirror as I backed. I also don’t understand the lift’s operation. The van certainly takes enormously more gas than the wise choice David has for travel to his work place, but we’ve come to expect that those in chairs should no longer have to live their lives confined to their homes.

Our other sons-in-law and our next-door neighbor are also often away from home for coaching events, conventions, or meetings. Our only other near neighbor travels nightly from her farm to her job in a plant over an hour away. This time of year we pray for her safety from the deer dashing across the highways, and soon we will once again fear the icy roads for her.

While the increase in travel is partly pleasure gratification, travel has been built into our work lives. We can never go back to living in insulated geographic bubbles with little contact with the outside world no matter how attractive that nostalgic pull feels. I have always loved reading about village life and also loved experiencing it. How people connect and interact is fascinating and when people can’t easily go elsewhere, there is no question their local community connections are more vigorous and often more life enhancing. One of my all-time favorite books was poet Elizabeth Bishop’s translation of The Diary of Helena Morley, the actual diary of a young teenage girl who told of her life in her village of Diamantina in Brazil in 1893-1895,

The same sort of village or community life is created within cities as people connect with those of common interests. When two of our daughters lived in the same city, we had to laugh at the interconnectedness that made it just as indiscreet to talk negatively about someone there as in it was when my mother moved to Dad’s hometown of Goreville, where everyone was either our family’s relations or relations of relations.

Now we have farm friends and city friends who are hurting while trying to keep gas in their cars to get to work. We have friends who have had to cut out attending functions they really want to attend in order to save gas. We have wise friends with no economic problems who, nevertheless, have cut gas consumption because it is astute to do so and because it is patriotic to do so.

How our nation will come out of this dependence on foreign oil and our present economic crisis will be interesting to observe. I have a feeling that we are going to find out what we are made of in the next few years. Will we be as strong as our grandparents who survived the Depression with much suffering and ingenuity? Will we be as self-sacrificing and as tough as the Greatest Generation who helped us survive World War II?

Home Sweet Home

Dear All--

Late yesterday afternoon, Gerald brought me home from Barnes-Jewish Hospital after 5 days there following our combined trip for BSU reunion/cardiology appointment/stress test for Gerald//visit with daughter Mary Ellen's family in the west St. Louis area.

Gerald's test results were good,, and Dr. Alan Weiss was kind enough to work me into Gerald's appointment time and send me to the hospital, where it was determined I had blood clots in lung making my breathing difficult.

I am in good shape with no serious harm done. No restrictions at all on my activities tho I was warned that my energy level will be low for a week or so, and that is true. There was no pain involved in any of this except for minor pain of shots, etc. What caused this clotting? Nobody knows. Doctors focused on traveling, and Gerald wondered if it was the hours at the computer! (Surely not!! Ha. Ha.)

The serious blood clots are now dissolved. As I understand it, the coming six-month regimen on warfarin (blood thinner) will help the body in its natural fight to keep blood from developing too-large clots. After six months, if all goes as expected, I will go off the warfarin. (For your edification, Gerald is quick to call this med "rat poison." He is quite experienced on all this INR coumadin testing, etc.)

I am grateful for the blessing of having the timing on this episode work out so that I was seen by Gerald's cardiologist, whom daughter Mary Ellen had researched and recommended to us. I felt very comfortable knowing I was being seen by one of the best in the nation, and I felt that was comforting to our children. I was as relaxed as one can be in the hospital when every few minutes, someone was in the room asking questions that often I did not know the answer to--or taking me for yet another test. No time or energy for phone calls, etc. After all the tests, I am reassured that my heart is just fine.

I know to never again postpone going to ER if I get breathless again. Actually I already knew this. And in a difference set of circumstances, I would have gone to Marion ER earlier--but I was not at Marion. So oddly, the timing on this turned out to be perfect. This makes me feel that I am meant to complete some writing projects important to me and to de-clutter my messy office that I am very ashamed of. So I thank God for the new lease on time on this planet.

I also thank so many of you for your kind thoughts and prayers. Last night as I worked my way through emails and read your notes saying you were praying for me, I felt very loved and encouraged and grateful for good friends. You will hear more from me when my energy returns and I catch up. Tonight I have to listen to the debate.

Love from Woodsong,

Sue

Going to Lake Saint Louis

As soon as we eat a bowl of soup and sandwich, we will be packing to go to our daughter Mary Ellen's in Lake Saint Louis. We have been wanting to go up to visit with her and Brian, Trent, and Brianna, and this worked out well.

We have our annual reunion of the 1940's, 50's, and 60's Baptist Student Union members from Southern Illinois University Carbondale at Meadow Heights Baptist Church in Collinsville on Thursday and Friday. We have 94 registered thus far. Gerald has been busy running to the bank to deposit everyone's checks.

In fact, Gerald is in his office right now trying to get the database to print out the way he wants for a register. I tried for an hour or so to see if I could figure it out. However, I have not been able to figure out how database stuff works since two computer crashes back. I was proud when I conquered the first computer we had. I tried when we got a new one because I liked having our snail mail addresses to print out for Christmas cards. My handwriting leaves a lot to be desired. But I could never learn the new computer.

Six months or so ago, Gerald's cardiologist suggested some routine check-up tests at his office in Saint Louis. We were perturbed when we realized recently that these conflicted with our BSU reunion. Gerald was able to change them a bit, however, so he has the stress test tomorrow morning and appointment on Friday afternoon. So with price of gas like it is, maybe this conflict is a good thing.

We plead guilty to being prodigal in our use of gas for many years. We used to try to limit out trips to town from the farm to once a week. With cheap gas and a little more affluence than in our younger days, we relaxed our standards. (We also have had a need to travel to town more often as we helped with our grandson's transportation to school for a few years and other needs when he was younger.)

Nevertheless, we need to reign in our wasteful use of gasoline wherever possible. To keep making ourselves dependent on foreign oil is the most unpatriotic thing any of us can do right now perhaps. Patriotism during WWII was not judged by waving flags and patriotic talk, but rather how people abided by the rationing rules of tires and sugar. Making do and doing without and saving resources for our war effort were the true tests of patriotism. Black market users were shameful traitors. Now is the time for us to cut back on gas usage whenever possible. We need to make heros of our motorcycle riders and car pool folks.

The Eve of 9/11

Our son-in-law David is celebrating his birthday tonight. I hope their family party is peaceful. Last night was supposed to be, but someone drove out in front of his mother, who was out on an errand. So David was to and from the hospital and finally followed his dad home to help get his injured mother out of the truck and into their home with her broken foot. Her car and the other car were both totaled, and so were her plans to go to a wedding in Chicago and afterwards stay to visit and help her sister. David is to be best man at this friend’s wedding, and sometime he has to find time yet to acquire a buttercup yellow tie for that occasion since he didn’t get to shop for it as planned last evening. Life has a way of upsetting the best laid plans.

Certainly in 2001, things changed horribly for all America. In addition to the sorrow, fear entered our lives in a new way. David was in Virginia and was not allowed to leave and we worried about him. With Mary Ellen’s family in the Saint Louis area, I wondered if that city might be next. We were building this house, and the building workers listened not to music but to the account on the loud radio they had going; I put up a small flag in the dirt here. Friends from California were at a motel in Marion after our Anna-Jonesboro Class of 1951 reunion, and they came out and we sat for hours in horrified silence watching the television screen at Pondside Farm. Later they were stranded for hours in long lines in the Saint Louis airport trying to get back home while their daughters worried.

Area writers were invited to bring any 9/11 poem, essay, or special memory to Latta Java tomorrow night on this anniversary. One member emailed she could not be there but had thought of William Butler Yeats’ poem soon after the tragedy and returned to it throughout the time of trauma. She sent the link for us:
http://www.potw.org/archive/potw351.html.

Another special memory of that day for me was to get an email telling of the birth of little Noah, a baby many in our community had been anticipating. To learn he was here safely was a joyful and comforting message of normalcy and hope. Under different circumstances, I would have been happy, of course. But on that day when the email arrived, I remember the odd mix of elation on top of the horror.

Tomorrow is also our granddaughter Erin’s birthday. At first I was fretful that her special day that meant so much to us was “ruined” in 2001, but I have come to feel that it can never be ruined. She is one of the good things associated with 9/11, and the terrorists could not take that gratefulness away from us.

One of the most impressive things that day and in the days following was the magnificent reaction of the people of New York. The people there disproved any notions we had that cities are cold and uncaring places. I hope that city knows that the thoughts and prayers of the nation are with them tomorrow.

Ouch! Into the Losers’ Bracket

Shortly before noon, our granddaughter Erin showed up at Woodsong, and we headed over to Henderson, Kentucky, where the Southern Force 16-and-under softball team was playing today n the Amateur Softball Association nationals.

Erin is helping her older sister Tara, the Force coach , but Erin has been driving back and forth because motel rooms are few and far between in this area. With 140 teams competing, this is one of the biggest national ASA tourneys ever. Erin thought she would sleep better at home than in Tara’s room with her beloved nephew Aidan.

After lunch in Harrisburg, we traveled on to the Shawneetown bridge across the Ohio River and into the beautiful hills of Kentucky. Next as we drove between fertile fields of corn and soybeans, Gerald was reminiscing about his frequent trips to Owensboro to the soybean processing plant in our old hog-raising days when our little children sometimes rode along. He declared these were the best crops he has ever seen in that region.

The tourney hosted by Owensboro, Kentucky, has games spread out at different fields and towns, so Henderson was a little closer trip than Gerald made on Monday when he drove over to see the first game in pool play. Southern Force won that and also yesterday’s pool play game. Unfortunately, playing the Arizona Hotshots today, we lost our first round of bracket play 3-0 when a great Hotshots hitter did us in with a home room that brought in two other runners after five scoreless innings.

We had five hits and once also had two runners on base—but we did not bring them in, so the most dreaded thing happened. Southern Force is now in the losers’ bracket, and it will take 17 wins to bring them back to play in the championship game against the winner of the winners’ bracket. (Tara’s team did this very thing last year at the nationals in North Dakota and won second in the tourney. But that is a very difficult and usually impossible way to get to the championship.)

It was very hot when we arrived in mid-afternoon. We immediately met our daughter-in-law Vickie, who was headed to the truck to get a bucket and shovel for Aidan to play in the huge sand pile by picnic shelter. She pointed the way to the shelter, where Marie Miller was watching Aidan for her. It was in the perfect location to watch Southern Force play.

Since we had forgotten to throw our lawn chairs in the trunk, I was very grateful to be in the shade with a breeze there instead of on the bleachers under the blazing sun. Gerald was tough enough to stand with Gerry or others most of the time, but I had the extra pleasure of watching two-year-old Aidan.

Seeing him get dirtier and dirtier as the afternoon wore on, we had to remember that it seemed only yesterday that we were watching Tara and Erin play ball while Geri Ann carried her sand bucket around with dirty face and feet. Vickie would bring her to the ball park sparkling clean with shiny face and neat hair, but Geri Ann threw herself into the sand pile play as hard as she does on the ball field now. (She was DH today and got two hits, but not the homerun that put the Hotshots ahead.)

Marie Miller co-cared and co-fed Aidan along with Vickie. She helped Aidan start playing in the sand pile by showing him how to dig holes and shovel sand. She willingly put his shoes and socks back on when he tired. Then when he wanted another session—but with company—she placed her lawn chair and sun umbrella on top of the sand pile to keep Aidan company even as she watched Danielle play. (Danielle got one of our hits.)

Of course, when K.J. and Jett showed up (big kids!), Aidan had all the company he needed as he followed them around in the fenced-in grassy area on the other side of the shelter as well as on the sand pile. Marie kept him hydrated with a bottle of cold tea and Gma Vickie offered a icy snow cone that he loved digging into. Both were pulling snacks out of their bags.

Beyond the fenced-in area and way way over on a hill was an attractive play ground with equipment. Aidan was very outspoken about wanting to go there. Vickie had to show and explain the locked gate on the fence that made it impossible. He kept asking Vickie for a key to that lock, but finally accepted that she had no key.

We were all a little startled when our peace was broken because three boys showed up running from the playground and crawled over the five-foot gate. They saw our worried expressions and hastily explained that they had tickets to the ball game in their pockets and just did not want to go way way around to get in. We were concerned that Aidan would be trying to climb that fence too. He didn’t, but he had a great time with K.J. and Jett trying to figure out how to pick that lock.

Since going into the losers’ bracket meant that Southern Force would be playing at 9 o’clock in the morning instead of sleeping in, Erin needed to stay over and didn’t come back with us. (We weren’t sure we could get her wherever they play by 8 in the morning.) We had a pleasant trip home stopping at Subway for supper.

Lightning flashes and darkening sky with the promise of a welcome rain made it even more pleasant after we came into Illinois. We arrived at our garage just as the first sprinkles began, and it has been raining ever since. We are going to bed with visions of Brian’s corn lapping up the moisture and growing bigger and better ears while we sleep.

Meals Plus Snacks Are Necessary

“Grandma, can we make corn dogs?’ (Never mind, that we just ate supper a little after six—less than three hours ago.)

Actually, I was glad that while rummaging in the freezer for ice cream that they found the corn dogs that I had bought for this week—and then forgotten about in all the excitement and busyness of the week. I suspect a corn dog is as good a snack as any. So I gave permission for them to fix the dogs in the microwave—but not the oven which they would have preferred for some reason. It is just too hot to use the oven unnecessarily.

As an experiment, I had put a new jar of peanut butter and box of crackers in the den, where I keep grandkids’ treats in the fridge there. So far the peanut butter has been untouched. None of our kids have a weight problem, and I thought the protein better for them than sweet treats. They are definitely not couch potatoes.

With the heat like it is, they have pretty much stayed inside under the AC during the afternoons. This makes me appreciate a big house. I can get away from the noise--most of the time. We have too many grandkids to downsize yet.

What kids like and do not like to eat always amazes me, and, of course, it varies from kid to kid. The three here this week won’t touch a green salad. Yet our church kids adore salads—maybe because their Gma Jo makes some of the tastiest salads in the world and they and their friends found salads habit forming.

I can remember never liking pickles until some cousins were at our house one summer and encouraged me and my brother to start eating pickles off the table before supper was served. We ate the whole bowl of pickles, and I learned they were acceptable food for kids.

When our Erin was little, she liked Neopolitan ice cream and called it "sandwich ice cream." Consequently, the other cousins followed her lead and liked "sandwich ice cream." But this group doesn't even remember that, and they turned up their noses at Neopolitan the last time I bought it.

Meals definitely change while the grandkids are here. However, I did fix a pot roast with all the veggies yesterday, and we ate that again today also for our main meal tonight. Gerald was having lunch again with Gerry today. For the kids, I fixed macaroni and cheese to go with ham and some left-over vegetables (which no one ate) when we got home from VBS. Although I knew our kids always liked macaroni and cheese, I thought their enthusiastic reaction was a little strong. Come to find out, some TV show they watched yesterday had featured macaroni and cheese and threw a craving on them. I was glad I fixed two boxes, so they were free to eat all they wanted.

"Someone stole June"

A friend wrote, "Someone stole June." June happened much too quickly for me too, and now it seems July is already hurrying by much too quickly. I want to yell: Slow down, Life!" Where are those lazy hazy days of summer?

The dining room table is covered with boxes for Vacation Bible School. I am gathering up all the stuff called for in the teacher's book. Stickers, colored feathers, stuffed monkey, etc. Sonja emailed me that she has some of the items I need. Charlene phoned that she has the stuffed cat I was looking for. But I still need a parachute (not a real one--the kind kids play with), a rubber chicken, six foam balls, some egg-splat balls, etc. etc. The writers probably have a staff or a wife to order and gather up all this junk. GRRRR. And they probably have a bigger budget than I do for foolishness. I hope they do some soul searching to decide if they are using their budget wisely, however, just as I do.

Since I was in Carbondale yesterday afternoon, I made a point to stop by the toy store there. I found a rubber chicken, but I wasn't sure I wanted to spend $10 for one. I bumped into Jon Musgrave as I left the store and entered the mall, and I asked him if he had a rubber chicken. I explained: "I don't want to buy one. I want to borrow one for the one day I need it for a five-minute gag." He said he didn't have one, but I had to wonder after I commented that no one I knew owned a rubber chicken and he quipped, "Not that they will admit to."

Making decisions on what to spend money for becomes a problem once you have a dollar or so extra beyond the absolute necessities. The starving people around the globe haunt me. The beautiful faces in magazines of the children with cleft palates who only need $250 for surgery torment me.

Yet I know Jesus approved the costly perfume Mary used to wash his feet. And small extravaganzas that I have given to individuals have blessed me sufficiently that I was sure I had done the right thing.

I have always believed we are wise to build good-looking public buildings and fine highways and beautiful bridges because so many people are helped by these. When we are going down the highway without another car in sight and Gerald points out the million dollar roadway just in front of us, I not only luxuriate in this great richness, but I also know that more people than I can count will also benefit from it just as we are. And when we read about a bridge disaster, veterans being mistreated, or children in bad buildings in inner city schools, we know we have been penny wise and pound foolish. (Or people making those decisions have been. But the decision makers have to have the public's support.)

I have come to realize that I can buy a good product for our home without qualms of conscience (if I can afford it) because I know if there is any use left in the item when we can no longer use it,I will pass it on. If not to someone I know, then to the household giveaway sponsored by the Ministerial Alliance in Marion. Clothing can be taken to Salvation Army and glasses to one of the Lions' collection boxes. I would never deliberately burn something that someone else needs.

I remember reading that wealthy big spenders in the Depression who gave lavish parties argued that they were giving jobs to people who needed them. That made perfect sense to me. Yet there still remains something distasteful when someone gives ostentatious affairs while other are suffering.

On the television today I heard someone explain an advantage to the high gas prices. With fewer people on the road, fewer deaths are occurring. If it were one of my family saved from death, I'd have to choose the higher price if I could prevent the death. Isn't life complicated?

I must go online and decide if I can get a rubber chicken that with postage costs might cost less than the local store. And I must decide whether a few minutes of fun is worth it to the children. All the while I will be remembering that some research shows that we learn better and retain information better if we are having fun. And that is the point of VBS. We want youngsters to learn Bible truths that they will incorporate into their lives. We hope their lives will be spiritually richer and more effective because of this study.

My sister reported that their VBS in Amarilo was one of the most satisfying experiences she had ever had. Picking up and teaching two great grandchildren was part of the reason, but hearing other children also respond with how much fun they were having and wishing VBS could last even longer made her feel she was well paid for her efforts.

Playing and Cluttering at Grandmother’s House

Driving home from the exciting program that novelist Laura Benedict presented for Southern Illinois Writers Guild tonight, it occurred to me that last night was Wednesday night and I had forgotten to write in Woodsong Notes.

After a fun flurry of company from Wednesday through Sunday, I guess I just forgot last night was Wednesday night. I was concentrating on getting ready for tonight’s meeting and had also been busy catching up on life’s details.

After a visit from the grandchildren, life’s details increase. I clearly heard Jeannie explain to her 9-year-old to pick up before they left for their seven-hour trip back to Freeport. However, there had also been a 17, 15, 13, and 11 year old here; and with all their activity, there was much too much for her to put away.

I really don’t care. I completely understand that there is no time to put stuff away as we stop the kids from one activity to scurry them onto a movie or whatever is planned next. Parents say it is time to go, and kids have to go. Often the grandkids want to return to some unfinished project later, and stuff needs to be left out.

Frankly, I like to see that the kids have gotten into to closet for old clothes (“costumes”) that I keep for them in the den. (Now that most of the grandkids are teens, I’ve changed the name of “their” room from “art room” to den.) The little plastic chairs they used to sit on are still there for Aidan and future great grandchildren. And I started shopping before Easter for another couch so I could move an old one in there for the teens, but I got busy with other things and never completed that shopping task. It is on my summer to-do list.

Despite the change in name, the den with its beat-up table still sees lots of art projects carried out. I love it when I see the children working with all the scraps, ephemera., crayons, and papers that I keep for art supplies. Often they are using every minute they have to write a book or create a game with so many pieces that, of course, they will leave behind a lot of discarded junk. I have to admit that I would rather see them their limited time here working and creating than cleaning up. (Let’s admit it. Cleaning up has never been one of my favorite things to do, so why should I want grandchildren spending their precious time together doing clean up.)

I know it is good training for them to put all the colors back in box, and I really do want lids put back on magic markers. Since I delight in keeping things from years ago, I definitely want materials treated well. Children need to learn to be neat and to be responsible. I know all that and believe all that.

But I figure one of the joys of being a grandparent is that I can let their parents teach them all those good things. Not that I don’t appreciate it when the grandchildren neaten the rooms. Nevertheless, I really don’t mind doing part of that decluttering myself as I think about the fun they have had and the occasional glimpses I’ve been able to enjoy as they have used their imaginations acting, drawing, writing, and creating.

The collection of hats is now returned to the large leather hat carrier I once bought at a garage sale. The assortment of clothes (some their parents used to wear in the “old days”)has been gathered up and carried to the den. Maybe tomorrow I’ll hang them back in the closet so they can find them next time they come and need to put on a play or make up a story glorified by a costume. I’ll be smiling when I do thinking of the children I love.

I am also smiling because we had two high school freshmen in attendance at Writers Guild tonight. Both girls from local high schools miles apart are already busily writing fantasy, and both girls had a parent attentive enough to their daughters’ talents that they were willing to use expensive gas money to bring their daughter to hear Laura Benedict.

A week ago we left Oklahoma City. I woke with a mild sore throat that vanished early in the morning, so I believed it was the drainage problem that I sometimes have. By the time we reached my sister Rosemary’s in Amarillo, I was a little stuffed up but was hoping it was just the continuation of allergies I had experienced in Oklahoma. By the time we retired in our motel that night, I knew I had a cold and was trying to stay away from people. But that is not easy to do when you are seeing loved ones you have not seen for months.

By Saturday night on the way home, I noticed Gerald sniffling a bit. Sure enough he woke up with a very sore throat the next morning. He has been coughing and choking ever since. I will feel better one day and worse the next, but I am counting on this being over soon. Gerald has pretty much stayed with his regular routine—working outside and coming inside to rest or work on photographs. Even today after his getting stung three times by a wasp that had decided to make a nest over our garage door into our kitchen, he managed to accomplish a lot including killing the angry wasp who did not understand that this was our home first.

When I called Rosemary yesterday, I heard my cold in her voice and knew that the one thing I did not want to give her had happened. And yes, when I asked, Phil had waked up yesterday morning with a very sore throat. I feel like a heel carrying a cold down there, and I am hoping that none of my three nieces and husbands picked it up.

Nevertheless, we had a wonderful relaxing time in Amarillo. I tried to sleep off the cold. (It didn’t work.) Gloria took me and Rosie shopping so I could see a store called Tuesday Morning conveniently located next door to Big Lots that we also had to wander through. And finally we stopped at Target although all I bought in any of the three stores was a big box of tissues.

Friday night is the night I want to be at Rosemary and Phil’s, and Gerald kindly allowed us to stay through that evening. Phil prepared his great brisket for the gang, and there was the usual variety of delicious side dishes Rosemary prepared followed with chocolate upside down cake and some more of the yummy frozen dessert recipe she had served Thursday evening. I think there were 14 of us there that night, which is a common number although sometimes there are more children as we only had Eric and Desi. Both had grown up a lot since last fall.

Jerry and Cyndi drove up from Hereford to see us Thursday night, but Herman and Gloria and Chuck and Candy showed up for the Friday meal. I especially appreciated Candy coming over as she was sick all week.

Because of conflicts, we missed seeing niece Heather and nephew Tydale and their families this time, but there was still a breakfast bar full of the young adults laughing and enjoying each other’s company. We especially appreciated seeing quite a bit of Shiloh this visit because he drops in after work to see if he can do anything for Rosie and Phil, and Rosemary loves having him at the supper table.

The next morning I woke us up coughing and we could not go back to sleep. The motel started serving breaking before the appointed 6 a.m. hour, and I was amazed at all the early morning diners. We were on the road to Illinois by 6.

We didn’t plan to make the trip in one day, but even though we stopped mid-morning and mid-afternoon for breaks as well as for lunch and supper, we were home by 9:30. No bed could have slept better than ours. When I am not coughing or blowing my nose, I am still trying to catch up on everything. Geri Ann was playing softball with a local team last night at Crab Orchard and Gerald ran over, but I was just not up to being in the heat.

Jeannie and daughters Leslie and Cecelie arrived late this afternoon as Leslie is making a required trip to Belmont. They are leaving at 3 or 4 in the morning to arrive in Nashville by 8 a.m. Cecelie is staying with us, and we are excited to have her. Brianna is coming down to join her when her dad comes down to farm on Friday. So things will be livelier here at Woodsong for awhile.

Posting Blog that Hasn't Appeared on Book Page

We got home from Amarillo Saturday night, and I posted on AmazonConnect last night about the tourney in Oklahoma City. The post appeared in the blog there, but oddly has never appeared on my book page. So since it has been so long since I have posted on Woodsong Notes, I am going to copy and post the blog here. Then I will try to post on schedule on Wednesday night on Woodsong Notes.


We Had Fun!
by Sue Glasco at 10:57 PM PDT, June 8, 2008

The NCAA World Series for women’s softball, as seen through Gerald’s camera lens, is now on display in the living room at Woodsong, which is temporarily serving as a gallery for the photographs. We had fun, and being second in the nation only to the fantastic Arizona State team was quite a thrill.

Despite the horrendous heat the first two days when we played afternoon games. Despite having our car vandalized for the GPS navigator we’d forgotten to hide when we went to the game in Mary Ellen’s vehicle. Despite the day and a half that it took Gerald to talk to police, insurance agents, and then find a glass shop that could get tempered glass to replace the broken window. Despite never really figuring out the roads in Oklahoma City with or without the help of navigators. Despite the disappointment of losing both games in the championship playoffs. Despite my waking up with a cold on Wednesday morning when we left for Amarillo to see my sister and family. Despite Gerald’s waking up this morning with my cold. Despite it all, we consider it a successful trip and we will always cherish those happy times.

Meeting the parents and grandparents of Virginia Tech’s Angela Tincher in the rest stop as we traveled before we arrived for the Thursday afternoon games started our softball pilgrimage. Angela had been chosen Player of the Year at the tourney banquet the night before. And though Virginia Tech quickly fell to the losers’ bracket in this double elimination setup, Angela was among those chosen for the all-tourney team for her phenomenal pitching.

By the time we had seen the first day’s games, we realized that every one of the eight teams who had advanced that far were capable of beating any other team under just the right circumstances. No game was going to be easy, and we were exhilarated as we remained in the winners’ bracket.


Yet although the teams in the losers’ bracket have a more difficult path, the possibility of their entering the championship playoffs remained real. So when we played Florida Sunday night after they had given us our first defeat that afternoon, we were thrilled to come back and give them their second loss in that nine-inning game, thus, knocking out the team many expected to win the tourney,

Texas A&M, who started the year with two All American pitchers, had what many thought would be a season destroyer when Amanda Scarborough had to have surgery on a fractured foot. She spent the season on crutches and on the bench. Amanda and Megan Gibson had grown up playing together on summer teams and would have been an amazing pitching and batting duo to have brought to the World Series if life had gone as expected.

Instead, Amanda proved her outstanding character as she worked hard in the dug out tracking statistics for calling pitches and helping her coaches and teammates in multiple ways. But sadly she could not alternate with Megan as in the past. So senior pitcher Megan Gibson dueled alone through exhausting inning after inning. To leave the tourney with the second-place trophy was a feat that reflected Texas A&M’s grit and determination. Indeed it was fun for the Aggie fans.

Adding to our fun was getting to be with Gerry and Vickie and Geri Ann, Bryan and Tara and Aidan, Mary Ellen and Brianna. We even had a couple meals with our favorite catcher Erin, although most of the time, team members were not available for family gatherings.
Fortunately Saturday, Aidan and his daddy Bryan’s common birthday, was a free day for our team. We celebrated the birthdays with lunch at the Cheesecake Factory and with supper at the team’s tailgate party. The Archibalds were able to stay through Sunday before Bryan’s job necessitated their leaving for the Chicago area.

By Monday, Brianna was sporting a manicure with maroon nails and Texas Aggie spelled out on ten fingers. Mary Ellen’s birthday supper that night was diluted by our first loss to Arizona State and all the difficulty we had finding a restaurant open that late after the game. But we still found some things to laugh about, and we were proud to just be in town after six other teams had left.

When Gerald phoned an Air Force buddy from over 50 years ago (whom he had only seen once since then), he found him in the hospital as a precautionary thing while a new med was being tried, and so John welcomed company there. After Gerald delivered the car to the glass shop, Mary Ellen dropped him off to visit his friend. And the next afternoon after we picked up the car and had all the glass fragments vacuumed out, we were able to return to the hospital for a second visit.

Although we would have been delighted to stay on to play two out of three games, that was not to be, so we took what pleasure we could from the early departure on Wednesday morning. The extra day would make our visit with my sister Rosemary and family more leisurely. Gerry, Vickie, and Geri Ann were already on the way to Johnston City when we left, and Mary Ellen and Brianna slept in before heading back to Missouri. It had been a fun week with memories for a life time.

Oklahoma Bound!

We were supposed to leave right before lunch, but Gerald and our neighbor are still working on a tractor problem caused when parts for two tractors did not work on both as the salesman, who looked the part numbers up on the computer , said they would . So they are still not back from Sikeston—where they were getting new wheels or something. I hate it that Gerald will be driving late tonight.

We are going to see Erin play at the World Series and we are excited. I think Gerry’s family has probably already left. Mary Ellen and Brianna will be driving out tomorrow. Tara, Bryan, and Aidan will be driving after he gets off work Thursday night. On Saturday we will celebrate Aidan’s second birthday. (And it is also Bryan’s birthday.) Monday is Mary Ellen’s birthday. So it is going to be an exciting time.

Then we are going to Amarillo to see my sister and husband. The only fly in the ointment is missing granddaughter Leslie’s graduation festivities in Freeport. We want to do more things than we can do. I remember years ago reading an article discussing the pros and cons of big families versus small families. The writer pointed out that those with larger families have both more joys and more sorrows. That has certainly proved to be true. I realize our family is not nearly as large as many, but I still keep fully scheduled, and sometimes want to be in two places at once.. I always wondered how my cousins Kathie and Dot did so well with their families. And they are still keeping up with all of them!

Soybeans Are Planted! Spring Activities in Full Swing!

Brian planted soybeans on Monday. We had T-bones at our house that night to celebrate. I made Brian a cake, and I took the remains to our daughter’s house today to get it away from here. Granddaughter Geri Ann and her cousin Lex were graduated from 8th grade last night at Johnston City, and families of both kids were there to cheer for them. In fact the high school gym was packed with students’ admiring loved ones. Baby boy and baby girl gifts are laid out on the dining room table to be wrapped for a shower and for a welcoming visit for new babies. Spring is in full swing, and now that the rains have stopped, the weather and the scenery are delightful.

The 8th grade graduates at Johnston City were all dressed in jeans or jeans skirts with matching class T shirts. I think that was the class members’ names on back. What a great idea! Nobody had to wreck the family budget nor waste time shopping to buy new suits or dresses. The excitement of high school graduation with the robes and mortarboards will not be diluted by having worn them at the end of grade school. There were lots of awards and recognitions for these youngsters—proof that they had worked hard and achieved much.

Not only was Brian able to plant soybeans, people here were finally able to start working on their gardens, flower beds, and lawns this week. I dug up some day lilies that had almost been destroyed by grass mixing in with them. They had been mulched, but I did not know to lay down plastic beneath the mulch. Consequently, some clumps had grass come up and mix with the lily.

When the plants were young, I wasn’t able to distinguish between the lily shoots and the grass stems. By the time both plants developed, I was not strong enough to separate the grass and pull it up. This had gone on for a couple of years now, so some clumps of day lilies were in bad shape. Finally this week I dug up the invaded clumps and separated the grass and replanted the lilies. I am watering them and hoping they grow quickly to make my line of lilies uniform.

The same neighbors who gave us the day lilies also brought us iris to plant that they had dug up from a family farm up north. That flower bed is truly beautiful right now with the large purple blooms blowing in the breeze. Gerald and I planted three new rose bushes last week, and the three planted last spring are perfuming the air already.

It is a good time to work outside and get dirt under the fingernails. It is not too cold nor yet too hot. It is also refreshing to bring out the spring clothing and start putting away the heavier clothes. Spring events make us want to dress up a bit. Who cares if the bleach only partly cures my work-damaged hands?

A Country Day at Woodsong

The sound of tractors in nearby fields has come into the house all day. Farmers are hard at work getting the soil ready for planting. Our son-in-law Brian finished his corn planting up at Wayside Farm on Saturday.

Gerald was helping the men involved with burning off our native grasses at Woodsong this morning as the law requires. Today was the deadline, and finally it was not raining so the job was completed. Those fields are black now, but soon new growth well green them up again. A distant neighbor Gayla had observed all the smoke and phoned to see if she and her husband could look for deer antlers in the burned off areas. She and Mary Ellen were classmates in the Crab Orchard Class of 1981, so it was good to visit with her a few minutes.

As soon as noon-time dinner was over, Gerald was back outside to help our neighbor Scott with disking. Occasionally working part-time for Scott has added interest to Gerald’s retirement as well as to his finances.

He quit in time to come in to watch Erin’s game on television. I scrambled eggs and carried down our supper to the family room, so we could watch on the bigger screen there. Winning this game cinched the Big 12 Championship for Texas A&M, so it was an important game. Being able to watch it on TV was much more fun than using game tracker and an audio account.

It was fun seeing Gerry and the other fathers cheering wildly when we got our home run that put us ahead in a tied-up game. I am sure it was just as fun for their fans when University of Texas made their homerun. It was delightful for us to see Erin pick-off a runner to prevent scoring again and hearing the announcers praise her throughout the game.

After the game, coming into the computer for a final check on the day’s emails brought a welcome forward from a friend. The forward was New York Times sports writer George Vecsay telling about a senior for Western Oregon getting her first home run in her college career. That would have been a neat experience, but how she got it was indeed an incredible story as the email promised.

Sara Tucholsky thought she had hit a three-run homer against Central Washington when she hit the ball over the fence. She was not used to that and watched in awe as the ball soared. However, she missed first base and turned back to touch the bag. The turn must have torn her knee ligament and she collapsed. She had to crawl to the base crying and unable to get up. Her coach knew if any of her teammates touched Sara, automatically she would not be able to advance. The umpires ruled that Sara must touch all the bases or she would be credited with a two-run single.

That is when the incredible happened. Central Washington’s first baseman Mallory Holtman politely asked the umpires if it would be okay if she and a teammate carried Sara around the bases. The umpires considered and gave permission. Mallory and shortstop Liz Wallace lifted her onto their crossed arms and carried her around lowering her to touch each base. Sara got her three-run homer to finish her senior-year career, and Mallory and Liz got a standing ovation from an emotional cheering crowd laughing and crying at the same time. I shed a few tears just reading about it.

How Green Are My Valleys, Hills, and Lawn

Wherever we look out-of-doors right now, we see green. Gerald says the intense green we are enjoying is partly the result of the nitrogen in the late winter’s snows and rains. As tired as we are of rain, it is pleasant to think of the benefits.

Earthquakes have been the topic of much conversation in our area lately. I felt the first one at 4:38 last Friday morning, and I learned later I had done the correct thing by staying in bed. I was too sleepy to do anything else. Although there have been several, I have not felt the after shocks since. I was in the laundry room at my daughter’s when the second shake came. She was in adjoining room and felt it. I guess I assumed it was the washer-dryer shaking the house and did not notice it.

I learned at our women’s meeting at Shirley Butler’s on Monday that some of our Coal Valley Water customers had been without water since last Friday. Shirley had seen and heard the repair work going on near her home the previous evening, so her first reaction to the quake was thinking it was the water department still working.

Unfortunately, the quake evidently made the water problems intensify in that region of our water district. (We seem to have been immune to the problems here on the west side of the district.) Workers are trying hard to get all the breakages fixed. Most people had water back on fairly quickly, but not all. Some people are going to friends and relatives to take showers.

When the water was turned on for our friend Jo, the pressure was so great that it broke the pipes beneath her house. She was blessed to have her son Scott willing and able to crawl under the house and repair the messy muddy leak there. Next door, Kim said when she ran her washer, the pressure causes huge scary noises making her hope their pipes don’t break. Scott isn’t eager to do a second repair job.

Our son-in-law was down over the weekend and early part of this week to start farming. The tiling job last fall was a real help this spring when these heavy rains came. Brian joined us for supper Friday night when our granddaughter Leslie and friend Veronica Tolbert from Freeport stopped off on their way down to Nashville, Tennessee, to visit the national college speech events being held there on Saturday. We didn’t get the return trip stop because there was a boyfriend waiting in Charleston. Ah well.

Our big weekend entertainment was listening to Texas A&M’s two home games. We did the same tonight when they played a non-conference game against Texas State. What a night freshman pitcher Rhiannon Kliesing had. After a week off the mound, she pitched her first no-hitter of the season, and despite no recent opportunities to bat, she made her first home run of the season.

It is pitch dark outside. After this game, Gerald is out there mowing that intensely green grass. It is hard to keep up with right now, and he had to be away all day.

Sunny Spring Days Are So Welcome

While the pear trees’ blossoms have blown away, the redbuds in yards and roadsides have burst into full bloom. The daffodils are fading, but the paperwhites are in their glory. Soon the dogwood will join the redbud. Gerald has daffodils, hyacinths, paperwhites, and tulips all blowing in the wind and adding color to his new welcoming flower bed at the top edge of our retaining wall.

It is a glorious time of the year on a day like today. The sun was shining and a light jacket was all one needed to be comfortable in the pleasant breezes. Since Gerald was going to Kentucky with his brother for the butchered beef, I assumed they’d be away at lunch as they were last week. Instead they left early this morning to enjoy breakfast together before they picked up the frozen beef and had to hurry home. I had made plans to spend the morning with our daughter in town and go to lunch with a friend, so I hurriedly fixed something for Gerald to eat when he returned for lunch.

After a delightful afternoon visiting after lunch at the friend’s house, I made a final stop back by my daughter’s and was privileged to hear Samuel tell about his Longfellow School field trip to at Art Day at Southern Illinois University Carbondale. He liked seeing the glassblowing and the pottery making, but the blacksmithing was his favorite.

When I arrived back home, Gerald was already listening to Erin’s game at Oklahoma State. Gerry had driven all night long to get to Stillwater for this double header that Gerald had wanted to go to in the worst way. We went there ranked fourth in the nation. Unfortunately, tonight after eleven straight victories in the Big 12 Conference, Texas A&M lost their first conference game to the Cowgirls 6-5. But Gerry got to see Erin go three for three in the first game and have a fourth hit in the second game, which the the Aggies won. Of course, we are still first in the conference. Between the games, Gerald and I ate a hurried bowl of chili in the kitchen and then had a cup of yogurt for dessert as we watched the second game.

I spent a while reading emails and thinking about tomorrow night’s Writers Guild meeting. Allison Joseph spoke to us five years ago, and I have always considered that one of our finest programs. She will be with us again tomorrow night. Here is the news release I sent out as program chair:

Poet and Associate Professor Allison Joseph has carried a love of language from the Bronx to Southern Illinois University Carbondale while earning degrees, fellowships, and numerous poetry awards. She will share experiences and expertise she has gained at Southern Illinois Writers Guild on Thursday, April 17, at 7 p.m. in the Terrace Dining Room Annex at John A. Logan College. The public is invited.

What Keeps Us Here published by Ampersand in 1992 brought her the John C. Zacharis First Book Prize. Four more books have continued her success: Soul Train published by Carnegie Mellon in 1997, In Every Seam by University of Pittsburgh Press in 1997, Imitation of Life by Carnegie Mellon in 2003, and Worldly Pleasures by Word Press in 2004.

Born in London of Caribbean heritage, she grew up in a Bronx neighborhood she often has written about. Influenced by the late Illinois poet laureate Gwendolyn Brooks and a story teller like her father, she often writes free verse as she tells brutally honest narratives with remarkable human insight that are sometimes autobiographical and sometimes imaginative. She also writes fiction.

Perhaps New York’s poets-in-the-schools program along with the writing she did at Bronx High School of Science inspired her to start the Young Writers Workshop at SIUC in 1999. The creative writing faculty and graduate students are used in this effort and offers a four-day residential summer program that draws high school students from both in and out of the area.

Holding the Judge William Holmes Cook Endowed Professorship, her many honors have included fellowships from the Illinois Arts Council and Bread Loaf and Sewanee Writers Conferences. In 2003 alone, she received six prizes. More recently she was awarded $5,000 for her poems “Cartography” and “Emergency Librarian” in the 2006 Dorothy Sargent Rosenberg Poetry Competition and then received a second Artists Fellowship in Poetry in 2007 from the Illinois Arts Council for $7,000. She is the editor and the poetry editor of Crab Orchard Review, an international literary journal of SIUC.

She was graduated from Kenyon College in 1988 and was awarded a Master of Fine Arts from the University of Indiana in 1992. She taught two years at the University of Arkansas at Little Rock before coming to SIUC.
-30-

Springtime Beauty in Egypt

In the spring, I feel nothing could be more beautiful than what we enjoy in Southern Illinois. Of course, I feel the same way in the fall. If you are from Southern Illinois, you understand the title of this blog because you know that our region has long been called Egypt. Some call the area Little Egypt, and there are heated objections among the purists as to that little word.

Others of us differ whether we should write southern Illinois or Southern Illinois. As a former English teacher, I would say that southern Illinois is correct. As someone who loves the area and sees it as a very distinct entity, I choose to write Southern Illinois. We are also sometimes called The Land Between the Rivers or River Region. Whatever we are called, we have four seasons, which is one of the reasons I wanted to live out my life in the region of my birth. Like most people living here, my favorites are spring and fall.

Right now I am intent on enjoying spring. (I can barely resist capitalizing spring. I just checked the Associated Press stylebook on my desk, and I was correct not to capitalize a season. And yet I almost went back and capitalized Spring and Fall anyhow! For me this season brings the emotions that call for capital letters and exclamation points.)

Gerald’s brother Keith and nephew Tim have grown beef for our freezers, and Gerald and Keith took them down to Kentucky recently to have them butchered there by an Amish butchering shop. Monday they will go bring back the processed beef. This is the first time in a few years since we have purchased a beef. So yesterday my friend Linda came and helped me defrost the freezer in our garage to get ready for this abundance.

Yesterday was a great day to do this task since it was not miserably cold, and yet it was cool enough that I didn’t worry as we emptied the freezer contents into tubs and buckets and covered them with blankets while we did the defrosting and cleaning work. At the other farm house, my daughters used to be enlisted to help me do this job. I don’t want to waste much time lest foods start to thaw. At that house, the freezer in the laundry room was right next to the children’s bathroom, and we could store the frozen foods in the bathtub and cover with blankets while we cleaned.

A few bits and pieces of previous meals that I had saved when my thriftiness was in overdrive had to be thrown out. Quite a few items I’d saved and forgotten were placed in the refrigerator to be eaten in yesterday and today’s meals. I thawed a beef roast and prepared it today since we will be getting this new supply Monday.

I would be lying if I did not admit that I feel smug every time I pass the freezer and imagine all that nice clean empty space inside thanks to all the sorting and rearranging we accomplished.

With the lovely weather, I have also made a start at cleaning out the flower beds—something that did not get done last fall. I have carried away four bags of leaves, weeds, and dead plants to add to the organic material out in the field. Gerald has rolled the lawn and mowed it for the first time. The beautiful green is so intense that the many blossoms on trees and flowers give a welcome relief. There is still work to be done, and if the predicted rain comes tomorrow, that will be the end of working in the yard for awhile.

Maybe that will help me get to the bills and letter writing duties awaiting me on my kitchen desk.