Showing posts with label Geri Ann. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Geri Ann. Show all posts

Tuesday, September 06, 2016

Summer Almost Over

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thursday, August 18, 2016

More Comings and Goings

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Saturday, March 26, 2016

Happy Birthday, Sweetheart!

Gerald’s birthday was well celebrated this year. He had phone calls and text messages and Facebook greetings from friends and family all day long. The calls started very early at breakfast with one from his granddaughter Leslie—a singer down in Nashville, TN—whose husband Mike shares this same birthday.

Then perhaps the most touching call came soon after from Katherine, who was not only able to make the call (sometimes she can’t) but she told her dad she wanted to sing for him. And she did, and Gerald said she sounded good! She too used to be a singer down in Nashville, but multiple sclerosis makes it difficult for her to talk sometimes; and singing which once defined her, is usually impossible.

Of course, Gerald was in contact with our son whose card from him and Vickie had come early, but he missed Jeannie’s evening call, because we were all out to eat with our youngest daughter and husband, Mary Ellen and Brian. Jeannie’s card arrived the next day.

We had a delicious meal with the Taylors, and granddaughter Brianna whispered about the birthday boy to the waitress, and she brought him a special piece of pie. He had to take it home as all of us were too full for dessert. Or at least we thought we were.

When we arrived at the Taylor house, we found out that more fun and food was in store for us there. Brianna had been baking. There was banana bread and an angel food cake for the birthday cake. Mary Ellen had sliced strawberries along with the whipped topping all ready for our dessert, and Brian made us coffee. Trent was at work, but maybe he celebrated when he got home later! Katherine has been enjoying the slices of banana bread Mary Ellen wrapped up for her.

When Gerry and Vickie lived in Athens, Georgia, Gerald always tried to go down to a softball game and considered that his special birthday celebration. When he saw that Texas A&M was playing at Georgia this birthday weekend, he knew he needed that special treat. He made arrangements with his nephew DuWayne to go with him, and that too is a treat since DuWayne helps out with the driving. I was going to go along if I could. Then just the other day, we realized that this was Easter weekend! But Gerald and DuWayne took off at 6 Friday morning, and I am sure they are having a great time watching great softball despite the opening loss.

Gerald taught me how to use his computer when we watched Oregon’s streamed game against Stanford Thursday night. I was able to see yesterday and today’s games sweep the series. I was more than thrilled seeing great work by our Geri Ann. Vickie was there to see it all in person, and I that too makes me happy. Having other grandkids in and out of the house makes this a special Easter.




Friday, February 26, 2016

Home Again after an Extra Long Weekend

We left Woodsong around 10 last Thursday morning and headed south. We watched as the roadside grass turned ever more green. Because previous winter trips to the South included some of the coldest softball games we ever endured, we’d thrown coats into the back seat of the car. When we arrived at Lafayette, Louisiana, we found ourselves in the land of live oak trees and where alligator and quail are on restaurant menus. Roses, pansies, and tulip trees were blooming, and coats were never necessary.

This was the closest to us of softball games on Oregon’s schedule this year, and we arrived there Friday in time to briefly see granddaughter Geri Ann before the Ducks began play against the Ragin’ Cajuns. Our daughter-in-law Vickie was already there, and soon Bryan and Tara with the three Archibald boys arrived also. Aidan, Maddux, and Payton were so excited to see their “Auntie G,” who was just as thrilled to see them.

In the first game, we were able to see Geri Ann hit and play in the outfield and then come in to relief pitch. It was a good game though we lost 3-2. At supper that night, Maddux was prepped to eat his first crayfish; and despite his reputation as the family’s picky eater, he pronounced it very good and shared with whoever had the nerve. Gerald and I ate gumbo although different kinds. Before our visit there was over, I’d eaten chicken, crab, crayfish, and shrimp in my gumbo. I’d heard of jambalaya in the song most of my life, so I had to sample a bite from Tara’s plate. After supper, we all gathered for a family visit in the hotel lobby before good nights were said and we went our separate ways although Aidan managed to snare a bed in Vickie’s room.

We were back at the ball park by mid morning and watched our only win over 7th ranked Lafayette 6-3. Cheridan Hawkins pitched most of the game and added nine strike-outs making her total this season 42, which is why she is 19th in the nation for strike-outs. This broke the Cajuns undefeated status to 8-1.

Our third game that afternoon against LLU had us losing again by one run: 5-4. This 30th Louisiana Classic with three teams had a different format from what I’ve previously attended anywhere. Very soon we were playing our fourth game--this time against Central Arkansas. Geri Ann pitched, and we won 8-0 in six innings.

As usual after the games, we went to the team’s restaurant choice to meet up there with the family for a final meal together. I really liked that establishment’s rustic decor, and I especially enjoyed the long wait before our table became available! (Much more fun than eating peanuts and throwing the shells on the floor!) On to the side of the dining rooms was a colorful country stage with a Cajun band in front of a small dance floor surrounded with benches for sitting as we waited to eat their locally famous Creole food.

When we entered, a little girls’ softball team was actively engaged in a combination of gymnastics, horseplay, and dancing, and I think our music lover Maddux was already out there with Geri Ann. Later Aidan joined them; and finally over his protests, Auntie G enticed Payton to join in the fun. Many older couples were obviously regular customers, and it was pleasant to watch their expertise at country dancing. Perhaps the most skilled was one young man with a cowboy hat that had circled the seated crowd commenting to us with thick speech that I could not understand. He found a partner near the band that I assumed he had danced with before, and they were so good it was a joy to watch.

None were cuter though than Oregon freshman Cherish Burks and her baby sister. Little Leah at eleven months had provided us with smiling beauty all weekend. She could almost walk, and everyone was expecting her to take off by herself any time. Perhaps she wanted to save those first steps to show off for her daddy when she got back home to California. I speculated she was such a pleasant child because her mother too was always smiling. When Leah was tired, she would take her bottle and go to sleep in her mother’s arms or in her buggy as her mother pushed, but always she had an audience because she was so engaging and so pretty. I may have watched her as much almost as the teams on the field. Well, on the dance floor, she was in her element. Those little feet that moved so well if someone held on to her arms as she walked were now stepping high in perfect rhythm. She also had a steady supply of partners picking her up and carrying around with the music. Just as cute were twin brothers, who were probably two since they were steady on their feet—too steady at times. (Watching their dad or mother race to intercept them as they would dart toward the opening into the main restaurant provided some humor.) Watching them interact with little Leah was so sweet as children always seem delighted to see someone else their own size.

Watching all this made me almost disappointed to be called to our table for food. (A screen in that room, however, let us hear and see the band and an even larger group of senior citizens circling the floor.) The meal was good and everyone was happy. That is until Geri Ann had to join the Ducks for the trip back to their hotel. Because the Archibalds had to return to College Station yet that night in order for Aidan to play baseball the next day, this was a final goodbye to Geri Ann. The team left, and Maddux sobbed. And soon Payton was sobbing also. Gma Vickie solved Maddux’s grief by inviting him to spend the night and go home with her the next day, so he was able to see Geri Ann again on Sunday after all. Bryan and Tara quickly figured out a solution for Payton, who would soon be fast asleep in their van going back home. At age nine, Aidan is very committed to his sport. And we heard that he pitched a very good game,

The next day many of Oregon’s younger players were on the field against Central Arkansas, and the score was even more lopsided with a 19-3 score in five innings. After the game, we were busy saying goodbye to Geri Ann, Vickie, and Maddux and getting on the road to Dickenson, Texas, so we did not stay to see Central Arkansas play the host team.

We arrived at Gerald’s special Air Force buddy’s home with the help of our GPS. I found out after we returned to Woodsong that I had mistyped one number in Gerald’s cell phone, so Ray and Gladys had been unable to reach us. (I am still confused about that because I know I checked it after I hurriedly typed it in a personal message on their Facebook page, but I guess I goofed.) We had a great two-hour visit while the guys reminisced and Gladys and I got acquainted.

We met their granddaughter and two great granddaughters temporarily staying with them. Camie, the younger of the two great granddaughters was 19 months, and she had a head of lovely soft black curls and a beautiful face. Gladys brought her into the family room when she woke from her nap, and she was all smiles for us strangers even though her mother and sister were not there right then. She too entertained us showing us how she walked with Gpa Ray’s shoes and sharing her doll and toys. After watching Leah and her, I began to wonder if babies don’t cry anymore.

It was hard to leave, but we needed to hurry on to Gerry and Vickie’s house in College Station. We were looking forward to it because we knew Gerry would be in a great mood. He had been with A&M’s softball team at the Mary Nutter Classic in California that weekend and had come through undefeated against all the great teams there. We had a good late evening visit and got re-acquainted with Chloe, Chance, and Nelly—their house dogs. (The bird dogs are exiled to a friend’s ranch during softball season.) Erin and Josh had been there dog sitting for Vickie all weekend, but they returned earlier in the day to their respective places. (Erin to her apartment to teach the next day and Josh back to Fort Hood.) We enjoyed sleeping in the bedroom decorated with all Erin’s softball awards and mementoes. however, and that made us feel like a partial visit with her. We are still looking forward to meeting Josh.

The next morning I slept late while Gerald and Gerry ran around, and I came downstairs to the smell of bacon and sausage and the sight of another beautiful baby—this time a little boy named Trent that Vickie cares for part of the day three times a week. He could pull himself up, but does not walk yet. His curls were blond. He is their sunshine, Vickie explained. He proved my theory that modern babies must no longer cry. At nap time, Vickie would put him in his crib, walk out of the room, and he would go to sleep until nap time was over. Nor did he wake up crying but all smiles. We enjoyed meeting him and watching him play contentedly with his toys and all of us. Soon after his lunch, he took another nap. We ate a late lunch with Gerry and Vickie and packed our bags. We were all out on the front lawn saying our final goodbyes when the Trent’s mother and little sister came to pick him up.

We traveled late on Monday to be further on the way home the next day. The grass was even greener than in Louisiana. And redbud and other shrubs were flowering by the roadside. There was sometimes even a hint of green in the dark limbs of the trees in the wooded areas. The starkness of the bare limbs was often broken with large balls of mistletoe.

We drove an hour or so before we stopped for breakfast on Tuesday to break up the drive. I believe it was in Arkadelphia that we stopped for lunch at a local barbecue place that claimed fame for having catered 10,000 folk at one gathering! As we traveled north, the green grass became more splotchy, and finally by Missouri, it was mostly brown again. There were large fields of bright green winter wheat, however. Once we saw a rice field covered with water and ducks. Then we were on Interstate 57 after stopping at Boomland for rest and cheap gas. We picked up our accumulated mail at the post office when we arrived in Marion just before it closed. After a bowl of chili at Pulleys, it was back to the farm and carrying in luggage. I sent text messages to our four kids that we were home all safe and sound. Made the coffee for the next morning and attended other details of living. I think Gerald checked the Internet. We fell in bed early for a good night’s rest and woke up to snow coming down outside our windows.

Wednesday, October 07, 2015

A Family of Teachers

After a weekend here to celebrate her tenth high school class reunion, granddaughter Erin left us with hugs and we waved her off. There was a text when she arrived in Saint Louis with the rented car to be gassed up and turned in. Another text when she was ready to catch her flight. And just as I was drifting into sleep an hour or so after Sunday midnight, I heard the loud musical signal that Gerald’s phone plays when a new text comes in. Loud enough to hear over the noise of a tractor, I suppose. I had not been waiting for it, but I knew instantly who it was and why. Gerald slept through it, and he would find it on his phone when he woke up at five or six. I rolled over and thanked God our granddaughter was safely back home in her apartment in Texas. I knew she would be getting up in a very few hours to go spend the day teaching 7th graders and then after school coaching the season’s sport for girls.

Erin is one of four women who together coach volleyball, basketball, track, power lifting. Seems like there was a fifth sport. Right now I think the season is volleyball. No softball for that age group, and oddly with all her softball coaching experience, Erin seemed to find that refreshing and less pressure on her. I do not doubt she is a fine coach.

But what I really am deeply pleased about is her class room and the 90 kids who come through it daily. I love hearing about her activities to help these kids be better writers. I enjoy hearing her enthusiasm and understanding for her “sweet babies” who may smart off or cuss her or who might even in an extreme case throw a desk across the room. I like knowing she is teaching them that is not the way to be. I like knowing that she does not take personally the bad behavior that results from a child’s life-time of home or neighborhood mis-education. (And sometimes even a lifetime of brutality.) I hate hearing the teachers who shake their heads and talk about how bad the students are today and, thus, excuse themselves from trying to earn their paycheck. This is Erin’s third year of teaching and the first in this city, and she has every intention of making a difference in students’ skills and, consequently, in their lives. And she will.

Many years ago I listened to Katherine’s stories when she taught inner city 7th graders sometimes taller than herself. Some were dangerous. Yet I never heard her talk bad about a student or hesitate to go talk to a parent in the projects if needed. She deliberately never locked up her purse; and if I am remembering correctly, she only lost one twenty dollar bill. Good teachers love their kids and never give up.

I love hearing our daughter Jeannie tell how she interacts with students in her classroom turned into an art studio. The kids are sometimes put into shock mode when they realize they must create and are not expected to do the same thing at the same time as a neighbor. For many kids this is an unsettling new experience. The freedom of not coloring within the lines (so to speak) has to be dealt with emotionally before their innate talent begins to express itself. This takes lots of time and lots of patience.

My own little long ago teaching experience was always in schools with less of the behavior challenges that Erin. Katherine, Jeannie, and my niece Kyna have faced. And I never taught long enough to master some things. So I vicariously enjoy hearing these descendants’ successes. Yet what many people do not understand is how far we have come from the days of one-room schools when teachers were routinely run off by over-grown 8th graders who liked to throw their weight (and fists) around. Yet the successful teachers—even tiny young women sometimes—could subdue the miscreants and charm kids is into learning, which all humans love to do if they find they can. (I am sure the teachers today who have died from guns would prefer yesterday’s fists, but I am avoiding that subject.)

I suspect teaching is like everything else—its success depends on determination. If one method does not work, something else needs to be tried. Quitting is not an option for a good teacher. I loved hearing my sister-in-law Vivian, whom I am sure was an excellent teacher, tell about a night class she took on discipline near the end of her career and how much she learned from that class. Good teachers are always learners and open to new ways if the new ways are better.

I did not mean to blog about teachers tonight, but education is one of my strong interests, and I got carried away. There are three or four teachers in our area whom I consider master teachers, and I always follow their careers when I can. My grandfather, who died before I was born, was a teacher. I had his teaching exam results framed for a gift for my brother, and I am ashamed to say that I loved it so much that it is still hanging on my wall. I always delighted in my brother’s stories of teaching also. One story: he became a principal in a poverty-stricken area and the basketballs were constantly being stolen by kids who did not have them. He quickly let them check them out and take them home with them, and then they were returned and none were ever stolen again.

My great grandfather did not want his son to leave the farm and ride his horse so far away the 20 miles or so to Carbondale to become a teacher. An older man in the community loaned him the money, and he was always grateful to that kind man, my daddy told me. Both my parents were teachers, and I heard them arguing their somewhat different teaching philosophies at many meals. (I saw how they respected differing opinions, and so today I value honest debate.) I saw them pile into a car with other teachers to go to Carbondale to take yet another night class in hopes of completing their degrees. Besides the loved ones I have already talked about, I have one granddaughter who taught before she had her three sons, and I have two grandchildren in their last year of college who are planning on careers in special education. I like to think this pleases that grandfather I never met.




Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Cooled Off But No Rain for Our Crops

Thunder was rumbling awhile ago, and so I shot up yet another prayer for rain. Someone said we couldn’t or shouldn’t pray for weather control, but I figure God knows what we need and He can take my prayer of what I think we need and translate it and transform it however He wills. He knows how much I want rain for our family, and I figure He is always glad to hear from His children just as I am to hear from mine. I have a friend, whom I respect, who says we do not need to add, “If it be Thy will…” to our prayers, but I am uncomfortable without adding that phrase, which I feel is important to qualify what I ask for.

We have had some rains in our area, and it has cooled off this week. But the rain has been spotty. Some places had six inches and a friend’s basement was flooded. Other places had good rains but winds knocked down trees. Despite our small rains here at Woodsong, when we drive the short distance up to where our son-in-law Brian has our crops growing, to what I call Wayside Farm on the Pittsburg road, there are no puddles by the roadside and the fields are dry. We think, however, Brian received some rain over on his rented land near Harrisburg. The extreme heat last week was making all the potted plants from the wedding dry out and burn up on our unshaded deck, so I moved them all to the downstairs walk-out patio. I only need to water them every other day now.

Jeannie exalted last night in a terse message on Facebook that yesterday she had done more than 100 miles on her bicycle—a personal goal of hers. The night before Rick had secured them a hotel room in Hannibal, Missouri, so a good night’s rest must have energized her. She mentioned Alton, so she is coming close to this end of the state.

Gerry and Vickie are with Geri Ann in Los Angeles, where they were flown because of Geri Ann’s winning the Gatorade High School National Softball Player of the Year. The program planned for these top male and female athletes in six different sports has been elaborate and I suspect life changing. I thought it was tremendous that the parents were also awarded these special days in Los Angeles.
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After supper prep, then eating with Gerald, and my starting kitchen clean-up, I am finally back to finish this blog. Gerald and I just finished watching the award dinner for the 12 student athletes on ESPN3 on my computer here in the office. Breanna Stewart and Johnathan Gray were named Male and Female Student Athletes of the Year. She was Basketball Player of the Year and Jonathan was Football Player of the Year. It was great fun seeing Geri Ann looking so pretty and having her softball career reviewed along with the other 11 student athletes. And, of course, I also loved it when there was an occasional glimpse of Gerry and Vickie in the audience.

While we were watching Geri Ann’s banquet, Jeannie phoned. She and Rick will be camping tonight in a park near Dupo. Tomorrow she rides to Chester, and on Thursday, she expects to be in Wolf Lake and probably on to Jonesboro to change from Route 3 to Route 127 for the final lap to Cairo. We plan to meet up with her and Rick on Thursday.

Our Young Adult Class that Gerald and I teach at our village church is studying the book of Judges right now. So my extra time today, when I have not been socializing on the computer or involved with housewifery, has been trying to understand Judges and also trying to prepare games and songs for Vacation Bible School next week.

A special friend from that village church was the late Rhoda Mae Cline. In my memory, I can see and hear her saying as she often did, “It’s a busy world.” I must agree with her. I better go finish the kitchen clean up and make tomorrow morning’s coffee. Not even heard any thunder recently.

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Another Postscript on Geri Ann

Today our granddaughter Geri Ann was in Rome, Georgia, for two high school state all-star games. Yesterday she participated there in the home run derby and won by hitting 31 home runs in the three rounds.

Today she was asked to be interviewed for an ESPN segment about yesterday’s derby. The first person she saw when she walked in was international softball legend Jessica Mendoza. Geri Ann has been interviewed many times but never by someone like the former Olympic athlete and the softball analyst for ESPN, who has been one of her all-time favorites. She admits that she felt a little nervous but answered questions the best she could.

What Geri Ann did not know until the middle of that interview was that Mendoza was really there to unveil and present to her the Gatorade National Softball Player of the Year trophy.

Many folks in our region remember Geri Ann as the little sister of two other outstanding softball players—Tara Glasco Archibald and Erin Glasco. Their mother Vickie would bring Geri Ann with an assortment of sand pile toys to keep her happily occupied while they played ball. Vickie would have this toddler looking so cute all spic and span. A half hour later, softball fans were laughing at the adorable grubby preschooler. (Now-a-days Vickie is bringing toys to entertain her three little grandsons at ball games—Aidan, Maddux, and Peyton Archibald.)

I remember long ago when Geri Ann’s father Gerry commented that the poor little thing was only two years old and had already attended some huge number of ball games. I think she was four or five when she played with her first team at the Johnston City park. If anyone got a hit, that player could probably count on a home run since these little beginners were not likely to catch the ball, and if they did, they wouldn’t be able to throw it very far. We parents and grandparents in the stands and on our lawn chairs would go wild cheering these tiny runners around the bases. It wasn’t Geri Ann but another little girl a year younger whose participation I remember most clearly. Tiny for her age, she was standing in the outfield desperately needing to go to the restroom. Finally she got her mother’s attention, and we all relaxed and smiled at each other. I still tease her about this when I occasionally see her. She is now one of the many girls from our region who have earned college scholarships because of their softball skills.

This morning I took Geri Ann’s cousin Sam to give his first trombone lesson to an eighth grade sister of a friend of his. She was already doing well in band, but hopes to get better. Sam was pretty excited after the lesson telling me how much he enjoyed sharing what he has learned. He realized that maybe a near-peer might still remember how it was at the beginning while learning an instrument. He said only this past year has some things he had been taught really clicked in for him.

Sam and I were at McDonald’s eating lunch at noon when I got the phone call from Gerald telling me the exciting news about Geri Ann. He started the call by asking if Gerry had called me. That question scared me because Gerry would not usually phone me on my cell phone. I said no and caught my breath. His next sentence was that Geri Ann was national player of the year. We know that players can be injured and end more than ball careers, and when I heard the name Geri Ann at the first of his sentence, my heart beat harder in total panic. And as he finished the sentence, I suspect it continued beating rapidly in total joy.

Sam was as excited as I was because he and his cousins are very close. His comment was he was not surprised having just read all the statistics when she won the state player of the year. He started citing them. I am not a numbers/statistics person and could not possibly remember them, but the ESPN news release said that during her senior year at Oconee High School, she led the team (38-2) to the Class AAA state title last fall. She posted a 19-0 record with a 0.50 ERA in the circle, while batting .564 with 62 RBI and a state single-season record 24 home runs. It continued, “A four-time first team all-state selection, she struck out 213 batters in 113 innings, firing 13 shutouts and four no-hitters. Glasco set the state career record for home runs (47) and doubles (58) I addition to finishing second in Georgia history with 207 career hits and fourth with 167 RBIs.”

Geri Ann is playing summer travel ball on Southern Force as she has since she was 12. Her father started Southern Force on a shoe string and a dream. Before they joined the staff at the University of Georgia, her dad coached her and then her sister Tara. Gerry is now associate head coach under Lu Harris-Champer, and Tara came on board as assistant coach there last fall. It is not surprising that Geri Ann has signed to play at Georgia. Her sister Erin, who played for Texas A&M when they won second in the NCAA Women’s College World Series, came close to persuading her she needed to go to Texas. Erin is now assistant softball at Southern Illinois University Carbondale. She will be going down tomorrow to attend the banquet in Geri Ann’s honor.

For more on her family, read the ESPN blog at http://espn.go.com/blog/high-school/softball/post/_/id/773/geri-ann-glasco-sticking-close-to-home.

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Postscript to Yesterday's Post

The rain came yesterday afternoon, and the rain gauge on our deck said we got an inch and three tenths of rain. We are very grateful. The fields at the other farm also got some of the precious water.

Gerald said Mary Ellen called and told him she did not leave the new house until yesterday morning. She was so pleased She had completely straightened everything and left house in good shape. I believe she may have even got some more painting done. I am constantly impressed with my children and their spouses’ work ethic. (Although I sometimes think they work too hard, I still admire them.)

Talking of work ethic, I am certain that my granddaughter Geri Ann’s recent selection as Georgia Player of the Year award was the result of all her hard work. She has natural athletic ability, of course, and she has had good coaches. Her family supports all her efforts. But she is the one who no matter what or where gets out to the field and has batting and pitching practices.

Sunday, July 17, 2011

Still Busy and Weather Still Hot and Too Much Going On

Teachers were asked at the Trail of Tears Institute how much they spent each year for class supplies out of their own salary. If you had heard their answers, your admiration for today’s teachers would increase. Some of these teachers were very young (possibly with student loans yet to repay) and with houses to buy and little children to support. Some were older with possibly older children in college. All were probably taking graduate classes and facing those tuition expenses. Yet every one of them spoke of spending a minimum of $300 to supplement their provided supplies. Some of the older teachers estimated they might spend $2000 or so. If it is true that your treasure is where your heart it, these teachers’ hearts are in their classrooms with their students. The very classroom we were sitting in was filled with books, posters, and all kind of learning accessories—all provided by that particular classroom teacher.

Some of us from the Illinois Chapter of the National Trail of Tears Association were meeting with these teachers who are preparing to use the Trail of Tears through Southern Illinois as their theme for this year’s project using original resources. There were interesting sessions and I was glad to be there for three of the four days of the Institute. I hated missing Tuesday, but I had other obligations that day. I also left at noon on Thursday and didn’t attend the field trip to the Crabb-Abbott Farm in Pope County. I knew from personal experience that Joe and Ethel Crabb would be terrific hosts for this field trip, but I needed to get back to the farm for a previous Thursday afternoon commitment.

As I drove home, I just relaxed and enjoyed the wonderful tree-covered hills between Vienna and Woodsong. New Burnside’s steep hills are one of my favorite spots in our region, and the leafy trees are at the height of their summer green glory. With responsibilities behind me, I looked forward to a deliberate agenda of doing as little as possible for a couple of days so that I would be ready to dig into my study of Vacation Bible School materials next week.

I had lots to think about as I drove home and most of it was pleasant. Gerry and Geri Ann had been at our house Monday and Tuesday nights, and Vickie had driven up with Ansley, a Southern Force player, on Tuesday. There had been fishing and playing with their new puppy Molly along with the visiting.

On Wednesday morning we had waved them off as they headed for the home run hitting derby that evening in northern Illinois. That would be followed by Thursday and Friday pool play for the tournament that started today. A phone call Wednesday night had reported that for the second year in a row, Geri Ann had won the home-run derby, and so as I drove home Thursday, I was eager to hear how they had done in their first games that day.

Gerald had a standing doctor’s appointment that morning, so I expected to hear that all his blood work and other tests would come back good and he would be feeling chipper about that. And I was hoping the doctor would do something positive about his shoulder that was hurting him. Erin was meeting with her surgeon to get her “stitches” out after her ACL surgery, and she was so excited. I was very happy for her.

Sure enough, Gerald was able to report at our late lunch that everything was good on his check up, and he would start taking some physical therapy on his shoulder next week. Later he reported Southern Force won their pool play games that day. I checked my Facebook messages and saw Erin’s happy report that she would be seeing the surgeon. I usually take a light supper into town on Thursday afternoons for Katherine’s family, so that David knows that one night’s meal is taken care of. At their house, Katherine told me with tears in her eyes that Sam had seen a later Facebook entry from Erin. She was in Carbondale Memorial Hospital because there was infection in her knee and she would have to have two more surgeries this weekend. Suddenly life had taken a scary turn, and I could no longer anticipate a pleasant weekend.

By bedtime, Vickie had driven down from the top of the state and was already sitting up with Erin at the hospital. I doubt that she got much sleep that night, because Erin was in enough pain to make her restless. Rick, her boyfriend, who is working nights this week, had already been up for 24 hours but was preparing to sit up all night too. But Vickie and Erin persuaded him to go home for a little sleep. He was back at the hospital very early the next morning as the first surgery was scheduled for that morning. Gerald and I arrived at the hospital by 9:15, and a lonely teddy bear with its leg in a bandage was the only occupant of her room. Erin was already long gone being prepped.

A helpful nurse took us to where Vickie and Rick were waiting. The four of us waited together, and a nurse would report to Vickie every hour or so. Finally before noon, the nurse reported the surgery was over, and the surgeon would meet Vickie to explain all that he had done. When that time came, Vickie invited us all to go into the consulting room with the doctor, and we heard him explain how he had flushed and cleaned out the infection. He had made the decision to put in “beads” which were infused with antibiotics so that Erin would have the antibiotic right on the site of the infection as well as antibiotics given through the veins. Because of this, the second surgery would be tomorrow rather than today so that the “beads” could continue their work a little longer. The cultures taken on Thursday would not be back for a day or two yet, so a general spectrum antibiotic would be used until they knew what specific one to use. And we will be holding our breaths until then.

While Erin was in the recovery room, we left to meet friends for lunch that had already been planned before Erin’s bad news. Afterward, a phone call to Vickie told us that Erin was back in the room and it would be okay for us to come in and see her. We stopped at the gift shop to get a couple of roses to take up, and Rick came in to buy a beautiful balloon bouquet to go with the teddy bear. In her room Erin was wide awake and quite pert and smiling entertaining one of this year’s top softball players, her Gma Shirley, and her Aunt Chris. We added our roses to Gma Shirley’s and visited a little while and said our goodbyes.

After one brief errand, we were back at the farm and Gerald and I both felt a nap coming on. He put a heat pad on his shoulder and sat in his easy chair and was soon fast asleep. His sleep has been interrupted lately by this shoulder pain, so I felt very glad he was inside in air conditioning instead of outside working as he usually is despite the extreme heat and the painful shoulder. He had taken one of his prescribed pain pills, and I was not surprised that he slept as long as he did. I had had a full night’s sleep, so my nap was not so long.

At supper, he complained he really did not feel good at all and felt feverish. When our kids were little, I could almost give an accurate temp reading with my hand. I cannot do that anymore, but a single touch of his forehead let me know that he had more than a little fever. I put a thermometer in his mouth and it registered over a 101. He slept through the evening, but had a very restless night, and at 3:30 I could tell his fever was higher. We both assumed we’d be looking up an urgent care center today since his doctor does not have Saturday appointments. Nor would we be going back to the hospital to visit Erin as she recouped and prepared mentally for tomorrow’s second surgery. (I have never understood the two surgeries, but from the Thursday appointment on, that was the announced plan.) She wrote on Facebook: “Surgery went well. In pain but surrounded with people who love me :)”

When I got to the breakfast table this morning, I was glad I had prepared the breakfast coffee as usual and laid out dishes because Gerald was there already dressed reading the paper he had walked down the lane to retrieve as he does every morning, and he had no fever. His pajamas had been damp when he woke up, and he said that he guessed this was what the old timers meant when they used the expressed “sweating out a fever.” The next thing I knew, he had changed into his overalls and was outside working with the weed eater. I think he did take a nap this afternoon while I ran into Katherine’s, but when I returned, he had already fixed himself a supper sandwich and was out on the lawn mower again for an hour or more.

Meanwhile, the Southern Force lost their game today in this single elimination tourney, so the rest of Erin’s Georgia family will be driving down tomorrow instead of Monday. I am sure everyone is sorry about the loss, but Gerry and Geri Ann are eager to be here to see Erin. Gerry told us on the phone that he had his grandson Aidan sleeping in his hotel room last night, and Aidan had already told him he is going to sleep there again tonight.

There is always good mixed with the bad if we look for it hard enough, and I am sure Gerry and Geri Ann have enjoyed seeing Tara and Bryan and those three charmers—Aidan, Maddux, and Payton. But it is difficult to concentrate on the good when you are waiting for cultures to be returned from the lab.

Monday, September 14, 2009

Visiting in Georgia

Kudzu-covered trees line the roadways with leafy green cathedrals. Eye lids close against our will against our will in the heavy September heat and we shake ourselves back awake. We are in
Georgia to watch grandaughter Geri Ann and the Oconee High School softball team.

Two opening games Friday at the annual Veteran Memorial Park Invittional were comfortably cool, but the three Saturday games were played in more typical sun-burning weather. Thanks to the large umbrellas Gerald has attached to our game-side chairs, I avoided the red face I saw on many by the end of the day.

The invitational hosted by Oconee North and Oconee County was not a traditional tourney with winners, but rather an opportunity for fourteen high schools attending from throughout the state to each meet five other teams at the four-field complex there on the outskirts of Watkinsville and Athens. For us it was an opportunity to acquaint ourselves with this year's team and to see Geri Ann's two home run bombs on Friday evening. And it was great seeing Courtney and Geri Ann pitch again.

After winning our first four games, it was a disappointment when our team lost the fifth game. We ended seven scoreless innings only to have Effingham's Lady Mustangs break the tie 2-0 at the end of the eighth inning. Our girls' desire to win was strong. As the loss sunk in and our girls realized what those last few minutes of play had wrought, there were some misty eyes and sagging spirits. We felt all those same emotins with our team. Nevertheless, Gerald and I have watched enough softball to not only feel girls' pain when they lose but to know our hurt has provided happiness to the other team, whom we would love too if we had a chance to know them.

That night the girls shrugged off the loss and gathered at the home of one of the players to watch the University of Georgias Bulldogs play South Carolina. Gerald and Gerry hurried to the stadium to join over 90,000 seeing the game there, and Vickie and I watched on the screen in the comfort of home. The day in the heat caused me to do as much napping as watching, but I saw the exciting ending with UGA winning 41-37. I was glad the Oconee girls had a winning game at the end of the day when Vickie left to collect Geri Ann. By now we were able to remember the four games won by a large margin as well as the final loss.

Yesterday we worshipped together singing our desire to embrace praise and justice. We rejoiced that love and grace comes flowing down from the One whose hands and feet were nailed to a tree. Then the pastor taught us we were made in the image of the Creator. He had made us wonder that we have to keep the doors of our cars and homes locked to keep out our fellow man created in God's likeness. Then he abruptly ended his sermon and the service with a question to ponder the rest of the day: What went wrong?

Sunday, June 07, 2009

Coming and Going at Woodsong

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunday, April 19, 2009

A Spring Week at Woodsong

As I drove into the Shawnee National Forest on Tuesday, the pinkish purple blooms on the redbud trees brightened the still bare tall black-limbed trees all around them. The drive there had been stunning with the redbud at the height of its glory. Inside the forest, there were also a few scattered dogwood showing white blossoms and foretelling that time was running out for the redbud. Sure enough by this morning, though still lovely, the redbud trees had begun to shed the blooms for green leaves. And everywhere in yards and roadside, the white of the dogwood was beginning to dominate.

Tuesday Gerald left the house early to go with his friend Herman on an Angel Flight. Before I was through my breakfast and coffee, however, he was back home because the weather had cancelled their flight. I unexpectedly needed to figure out something for his lunch before I left the farm, and I did and hurried on to errands in town and my plan to consider going up Hamburg Hill to revisit the cut of the 1838 road there.

I knew I would not go unless I completed errands quickly enough that I could go there and back in time for our grandson Samuel’s jazz band concert that night. Since this group of youngsters had just won superior at state recently, I wanted to hear their performance. Sam’s junior high band was playing at the high school before their jazz band played, and Sam and fellow trombonist Ben were going to be improvising together. Coming home, I cut through the country by way of Goreville, one of my favorite towns in the universe (cause my grandparents lived there), and I was home from the forest in time to fix our supper. Gerald and I were sitting in the auditorium as the curtain was ready to open.

Gerald did take the Angel Flight on Wednesday, so he wasn’t there for lunch. But I had the same sort of rushed day with emails and phone calls to take care of as I worked on the final collection of handouts to mail to Rend Lake College for copying for the thirteen participants who will be on our river-to-river van trip this week. On Tuesday we will traverse Route 146, the designated Trail of Tears auto tour across our state.

After I completed the handouts and stopped to replenish our fruit supply, I went through the drive-in for supper and then hurried to the car wash to get the mud from Hamburg Hill taken off so Gerald wouldn’t feel he needed to do it. I arrived early at our village church in Crab Orchard for a First Place meeting at 6. I had neglected the Bible study all week and needed to attempt to catch up before the others arrived. With only three of us there, we lingered sharing our thoughts, our troubles, and our opinions in addition to the Bible study review. Consequently, it was later than usual when I arrived home to hear Gerald’s stories about the day’s Angel Flight and find out who won Georgia’s and Texas A&M’s games. The stories were interesting as always, and we had won both games.

Thursday afternoon I left the farm with all kinds of extra trucks there as once again some service was helping Gerald burn off our fields of native grasses. I thought this was a government requirement for these fields, but he explained that it was just the recommended plant culture. The two women in charge were careful to burn by creating V-shapes that allowed wildlife to escape safely. The eggs of one turkey nest, however, required our brother Keith and nephew DuWayne to come rescue them for their incubator.

Again I had a tad of shopping to do, ran by Katherine’s, and got a sandwich at Subway before meeting Jari Jackson to go to our Southern Illinois Writers Guild meeting. It was a Critique Night. I had hoped to have something new to read, but hadn’t completed anything. I did grab an article out of the file cabinet marked for revision and was amused to see it was written when my youngest daughter was still in high school as her son is now. I decided it was a little too old to share, but I may yet revise it someday.

It was fun just to relax and listen to the wide variety of offerings presented by more prepared members. When I got back to the farm, Gerald was in bed with the light on and his book of Appalachian humor in his hands and was fast asleep. I debated whether I should wake him and tell him good night or let him wake on his own when the book fell from his hands. That seemed the simplest, so I went on downstairs to check emails and surf a bit.

Friday morning for me started with a long welcome phone call from that youngest daughter who has been too busy with house revamping lately for leisurely calls. The weekend soft ball games would start on Saturday, and Gerald was hurrying to mow the yard and finish his shop project of modifying a sprayer for Scott, the next-door neighbor. This lengthy project turned out to be more complicated and challenging than Gerald, a perfectionist, anticipated. He was glad yesterday to take the completed sprayer home to Scott. In the meantime, our son-in-law Brian had arrived at the other farm for some weekend farming, and at the end of the day he dropped in and ate a waffle with us.

Yesterday Vickie and Geri Ann had gone with Gerry to Auburn University to watch Georgia play, and we were following them and also Erin at Oklahoma University at Norman, where she started the first inning with a RBI double. Gerald was also trying to follow Lucas Hileman at Baylor in the other room on TV.

Interspersed with the games for me was a trip to the village to return overdue library books and collect Revolutionary Road that the library had ordered for me. The florist shop where I owed a bill was closed but the wonderful owner/hostess of The Mustard Seed in adjoining quarters assured me she’d see that LaRonda got my check. There in that haven of crafts and antiques, I could not resist a small good-looking and inexpensive alarm clock for a downstairs bedroom. Then I took a drawing and some photographs that needed framing up to Tom Ribedeau, photographer, wood craftsman, teacher, and owner of the most beautiful long driveway imaginable through a certified wildlife habitat. I went back to Woodsong for more softball inspired by the beauty of the drive and Tom’s delightful personality.

After sleeping with the sound of rain on the camper all night, Brian dropped in to say goodbye before he headed home to the city. I was able to hand him John Elder Robinson’s Look Me in the Eye that I had told Mary Ellen about and wanted her to read.

As always today I was inspired by siblings Miranda and Caleb as they participated in various learning activities in our preschool classroom. Watching their faces as they learn new things and discover new words and new concepts is a joy. Since our story was about Jesus healing ten lepers and only one saying thank you, we played with band aids and wrapped bandages. Miranda had noticed my tiny “owie” on my hand and her band aid is still there tonight. Caleb was very interested in counting the ten pennies, ten marbles, and ten pencils that Miss Kim brought. He quit his independent play to go over and sit on her lap to try and figure out what this counting was all about. He could say the word “two.”

Since Erin’s game today was on ESPN, we watched as we ate lunch and then went downstairs to the bigger TV to see the rest of the game. David dropped in to pick up some left-over vinyl for a project he was working on to try and make Katherine’s chair more comfortable. We were quite unhappy to see Texas A&M lose, but despite our sadness, we had to be proud of Oklahoma’s D. J. Mathis who was back on the mound after a shoulder injury. D.J. played with Erin for Southern Force here in Illinois and won everyone’s hearts with her enthusiasm, and probably knew she needed to keep walking Erin.

At our evening service, Becky Belt handed me her copy of The Shack that Kim had finished, so it looks like I have plenty to read in the week ahead.

Sunday, April 12, 2009

A Blessed Easter at Woodsong

After a leisurely breakfast with the newspaper, we went to our village church to celebrate the resurrection of Jesus.

Our three little ones in our preschool classroom looked adorable. Wearing pink with ruffles and lace, Miranda explained, “Grandma made my dress.” When Miss Kim took pictures, we knew we were not the first to admire these children today, because one-year-old Caleb without prompting posed and said clearly, “Cheese!” Bobby, looking sharp in dress pants and matching vest, was all excited that Grandpa was coming to dinner. The Easter card he made was to be for his daddy and grandpa.

In the service after Bible study, many had visiting family members with them to worship as a family on this special day. Our oldest member, Zella Cain had family members filling two entire rows. And that was only half of her family, she told us. We sang, “Up From the Grave He Arose” and other traditional hymns. Deanna Odom had a special reading for us, and we sang “Happy Birthday” to Dewayne Covey, who had been looking forward to this tradition, and he had visiting cousins and aunts and uncles there to participate.

Our beloved interim pastor had a second sermon prepared—he and several had gathered earlier at the church for the sunrise service and breakfast that Gerald and I seldom make. In the early years, I would have been out on the lawn hiding eggs and candies in our children’s nests they made on Saturday—just the way my mother was taught to do as a child. Then when our children took over the nest filling for their children, I would be in the kitchen preparing the ham and lunch for the bunch when we came home from church.

Today was different. For the first time in our 52 years of marriage, I did not dye Easter eggs. For the first time in decades, I did not cook Easter dinner. For the first time in several years, most of our children and grandchildren could not be with us. Yet it has been a special and blessed Easter.

We arrived back in Marion last evening from our trip to visit daughter Jeannie’s family and see Elijah and Cecelie participate in the 29th annual Showtime at Freeport High School. Before we refilled the gas tank and I ran inside Kroger’s to get fresh fruit and milk, Katherine phoned and said, “Mom, David has arranged to pick up a prepared Easter dinner for all of us, and we will bring it out to the farm tomorrow. There will be plenty for Mary Ellen’s family too if they are able to make it.”

We took Samuel on home as he was eager to check out the Easter egg doings at Josh’s house—his buddy just behind the park and their house. Sam carried in a large portion of the colored eggs that he had helped dye at the Eiler house and his Aunt Jeannie had sent home with him. So they became part of our dinner today.

He even was invited to participate in the dyeing session going on at my brother’s home when we stopped at Mattoon for a break. Jim’s wife Vivian, who always remembered her grandmother’s huge dishpan full of colored eggs for her many grandchildren, has always tried to approach that sense of bounty for her kids and grandkids. She and her sister Jo, who had arrived from Chicago by train the day before, were laughing and working with a dozen of so cups of color on the large dining table and assisted by my niece Judi getting ready for the egg hunt at their house today. When Sam unobtrusively took a wax crayon from the kit and put a star on an egg, his mother’s cousin Judi had a moment of wonder and confusion when she took a green egg out and unexpectedly saw a star on it.

So after we dropped Sam off at his house, we returned to shop for the few needed items. With the delightful surprise and neat gift for the next day arranged by our son-in-law, I did not even think about what I might need to buy to go with the little half ham I had stowed in the fridge for Katherine’s family and also Mary Ellen’s family if they were able to come down from Lake Saint Louis. I knew Easter dinner would be scant in comparison to some past feasts, but I also knew my children would understand.

David works extraordinary hours already both at the plant and at home helping care for Katherine and Sam, and that he would go to the work and trouble to arrange to bring an entire holiday dinner out to the farm was very touching—and absolutely lovely. When I phoned her an invitation, we found out that Mary Ellen’s family had gone to Springfield—she had known we might not even get back from Freeport for Easter.

So I took the usual leaves out of the dining room table. With Sam’s friend Josh added as a guest, we had six present. Thus, I was able to use the white china with pink roses that I bought long ago at the thrift store when our family had only six members, and the light green cloth that usually only fits the kitchen table. The green stemmed glasses (also from the thrift store) made a pretty table with lilacs and white tulips for the centerpiece.

While the men talked and rested, Katherine and I looked at photo books and enjoyed seeing Tara, Erin, and Leslie as tiny ones. Sam and Josh went looking for minnows and rode the “mule” and played with Scooter and whatever boys do outside.

All too soon the Cedars had to go back home, and Gerald and I were alone again at Woodsong after the flurry of weekend activity. We enjoyed ham sandwiches and reflecting on the day.

We knew from Facebook that Leslie, who’d been in Freeport for the weekend, had succeeded in getting her first car yesterday and was driving it back to Belmont. Tomorrow she finds out about her summer job. Gerry had been off work from recruiting and had been able to go to church with Vickie and Geri Ann at Athens. Like Gerald, I am sure they were in touch with Erin down at College Station and with Tara’s family in northern Illinois, who celebrated with Bryan’s family this weekend. We were still enjoying Gerry’s proud accounts of Erin’s winning home run on Friday and A&M’s second victory against Texas Tech yesterday. And the Georgia Dogs won all three games against Ole Miss this weekend despite rainy weather and lightning delays.

We know that softball is fun and despite its importance to our family, it is not that important in the grand scheme of things. We know that every one of our family members have challenges and concerns—some of which cause us to live life with broken hearts. We know that many good people are out of work in our state, and they didn’t sit down to ham and all the good food that David carried in. We remembered the poignant presentation of world hunger that we saw at Freeport’s Showtime. We know that they are still pirates and thugs and terrorists in the world despite our rejoicing at the captain’s release. We are grateful for a living God who is willing to help us through the struggles here on earth.

Thursday, April 02, 2009

Changing Plans

We thought we had the next two weekends all planned out. In fact, I wrote an email to our immediate family last night telling where we would be when.

However, our daughter-in-law Vickie’s grandmother here in our community died last night. Her visitation is tomorrow and her funeral is on Saturday. Consequently, people away from here are making plans in order to get here quickly.

Grandma Borum was a very dear lady, who has cared for many years for her adult daughter, who is handicapped and continued to live with her. Not too many years ago we enjoyed her and her daughter Janice’s company at all the wonderful family parties that Vickie gave for birthdays and various celebrations. As Mrs. Borum grew older and developed health problems and Janice’s health deteriorated, Vickie’s parents, who lived next door, pitched in more and more to help.

After Vickie’s father died, her mother has continued caring for her two loved ones with help from her brothers. Everyone has been amazed that she was able to handle all of this caretaking, and we knew it was only because of selfless love and dedication to her mother and sister that she endured always putting them ahead of herself. Fortunately someone had been trained to help very recently.

In the morning, Vickie and Geri Ann are driving up from Georgia and picking up Erin from the Nashville airport, so that Erin can attend the visitation. Gerald will be taking Erin over to Columbia, MO, after the visitation tomorrow night for the two games that have been rearranged for Saturday since rain is expected on Sunday.

Our granddaughter Tara and two baby boys, who were just through here last Sunday, will be coming down from the northern end of the state. We are grateful that her husband Bryan can come also to drive. I haven’t touched the bedroom where Tara had three hours sleep Sunday before driving north, so I guess you can say it is waiting for her.

With all this going on with the people we love, I will not be blogging again for awhile. We covet prayers for our family’s safety and health during all the traveling that is necessary during this time of sorrow. I’ll talk to you later.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Spring Is Blossoming Out All Over

Last Friday night, the first day of Spring, Gerald and I experienced the awakening as we drove down to Union County amid the white blossoming pear trees, tulip trees already shedding their pink blossoms, yellow forsythia, and golden daffodils in yards and roadsides.

We went early to have time before we met his brothers and wives, so he could take me up to Hamburg Hill again in Shawnee National Forest. I had taken the wrong turn with Samuel the week before and missed it. I wondered if it were a good thing. When Gerald and I went up, I knew I had been fortunate to miss the right road. The road was rough and I think if I had gotten as far as Hamburg, I might have been foolish enough to try to drive to the top of Atwood Hill, where the fire tower was. Gerald started also but soon turned around in a road so narrow that I closed my eyes and clinched my fists—even though I knew with my mind that he would make the turn safely. Somehow my stomach did not know this.

Although the grass was greening, the forest itself was still stark trees with leafless limbs—still beautiful in their abundance up and down the steep hills, but not yet breathtaking as they will be when the leaves come back. We were looking for the cut in the forest where the old road used to go. We did find the cut and the pioneer cemetery. We then explored another narrow road through the forest to the top of the hill, where other explorers had left behind their beer cans and trash. There was plenty of turn around room here, and after walking around a bit, we headed on to Fox Hollow for fish with the brothers and sisters-in-law.

This is definitely the time for seeing the countryside. Each day is greener and different as new plants come from the ground. I was able to carry in sweet-smelling hyacinths for the women from church who gathered at our house on Monday evening. I only picked two for each table because it was Gerald’s bulb garden he planted last year, and I did not want to have it too barren when he returns from his birthday trip to Georgia.

I had forgotten he had planted one yellow and one white daffodil there, so I was richer in daffodils than I thought. Each plant had three blossoms, and I picked one yellow and one white to stick in a tall narrow vase. I resisted the urge to pick a fifth hyacinth to go with the two daffodils for a table in the living room.

I had put out the elaborately painted eggs that my friend Jane Perr made years ago. She had learned the craft from an elderly gentleman from the Russian Orthodox Church in Royalton. So I invited Jane down to our meeting, so she could see I was still enjoying her beautiful eggs. She surprised me by bringing me another beautiful egg in its own little holder and also a purple hyacinth that completed the daffodils just the way I wanted the vase to look.

Today after eight hours sleep, I came out of my bedroom at 10 a.m. with the idea I’d walk down the lane to the mail box to get the newspaper that Gerald always walks down for at 6 or 7 a.m. I was somewhat startled to see daughter Jeannie walking out of the other bedroom.

“When did you get here?” I queried. “I figured you’d be driving back today. How did you get in the house?”

Evidently shortly after I went to bed at 2 a.m., Jeannie and Cecelie had arrived from Nashville to our dark house. When we built this house, we gave each of our children a key, but no one seems to remember that they have one. We, of course, leave the door open for them when we know they are coming. Fortunately, one of Jeannie’s kids had found her key and wanted to know what to do with and she had told them to put it in the van. So they had let themselves in and we all slept peacefully, and I got a report on her visit with Leslie as we ate a bite of breakfast.

Much too soon, we had a late lunch and she and Cecelie were off to Freeport although they planned a drop-in visit with her sister Katherine in town before they got back on I-57 to head home.

Cecelie had enjoyed a piece of left-over angel food cake from our women’s meeting, and I put another in a plastic bag for her to take on her trip–along with the left-over chocolate eggs that I knew I should not eat.

As I followed them outside to wave reluctant goodbyes, our eyes focused on the ornamental tree in the driveway’s circle, which is just starting to bloom. Jeannie commented on how she enjoyed our spring down here and in Nashville knowing it will still be three or four weeks before the trees blossom up north. So she will do spring twice.

When Gerald phoned later, he told me that it was chilly in Georgia. Nevertheless, he and Vickie and her mother Shirley, Geri Ann, Tara, Aidan, and baby Maddux were all heading out to the softball stadium at the University of Georgia to support Gerry and the Dogs, now ranked 7th in the nation again. They were to play Mercer. I read tonight it had rained but didn’t rain the game out, which was good since we won.

However, the inclement weather at Waco did cause a postponement of the A&M game with Baylor until April 29. I had to laugh when Erin blogged about the tailgate party last Saturday night for the team, friends, family, staff, and Sugar Daddies. The Broussard family had generously supplied an abundant supply of crawfish. Erin had to fess up, that as an out-of-state girl without crawfish in her menu background, she was grateful for the table laden with desserts.

Since Gerald took the car on his trip, I drove the pickup over to a small-group meeting at our village church. I stopped at the end of the lane and finally picked up this morning’s newspaper.

Sunday, March 15, 2009

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

Sunday, February 15, 2009

Mid-Winter Mish Mash

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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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

Sunday, February 08, 2009

"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.”