April Showers and April Storms

At the breakfast table on Saturday morning, we were treated to watching gentle showers out our kitchen window, an appropriate beginning for the month of April.

I was already prepped for April 1. On Friday I had gone into Katherine's to be around while she kept a re-made dentist appointment. The night before Samuel had become even more croupy as he had been progressively doing at night. She figured it was allergies from much outdoor play with Josh. But she was afraid to send him to school; and with the weekend coming up, she made an appointment with his doctor, whom he had not seen in quite awhile.

As soon as she got back from the dentist and hurriedly ate a sandwich, she took Sam to the doctor, where she said his office was crowded with other kids suffering the same symptoms. The doctor agreed it was allergies and advised to keep that cool steamer going at night, gave Sam encouragement to be faithful to take his allergy medicine right now, and assured his mother it was fine for him to play outside despite all the allergens in the air.

Samuel came home ecstatic that he could go get Josh for their usual after-school outdoor play. I saw him coming alone across the park, and he burst into Katherine's bedroom where we were visiting to announce: "Josh can't come over. He broke his leg riding his bicycle today!" As we were commiserating with poor absent Josh and also with Sam's loss of a outdoor playmate, Samuel added, "April Fool!" and Josh appeared in the doorway. We were appropriately amused and irritated even if the boys were jumping the gun with their tomfoolery by one day.

So as Gerald and I ate breakfast, I tried to think of an April Fool joke. Gerald mentioned that if I weren't going any place, he might like to drive the car to Pinckneyville to the softball tournament since it takes less gas than his pickup. Thinking of our ridiculous and almost unbelievable trouble with our beautiful new car (which now drives like a dream, by the way) I carefully mentioned that I had not wanted to ruin his sleep the night before, but somehow or other someone had evidently put a dent in our new car. Gerald acted appropriately also when I giggled, "April Fool!" Maybe his relief saved me from disaster, reckon?

After the shower, the weather on Saturday was so lovely that it was difficult to bear all the dire storm warnings as Sunday came to a close. After the flu and our trip, I had never recovered my energy level and by Sunday evening, I had not been feeling up to making the effort for getting out of the house and driving several miles to our village church for evening Bible study.

We had a quiet restful Sunday,however, and I had decided I was going to Sunday evening services at 6. And I decided the tornado and hail warnings weren't going to cause me to change my mind, tho I considered it. The sky was a very funny color, and that frightened me more than the TV announcers. I took along my raincoat and umbrella and carried them in with me altho I did not need them. We heard hard hard rain during the service, but going back to the car as I avoided the many puddles, again I did not need the raincoat nor umbrella.

As I drove home, I was meeting the cars coming from Arnold View Church. I noticed the last one blinked lights at me, and I wondered if my dim lights seemed that bright to the other driver. Almost immediately as I topped a hill, there was a tree across my half of the road. Fortunately there were no more cars coming and I could go to the other side. The peculiar twilight color was still ominously present, and it was really difficult to see the various limbs and trash that kept popping up in my lane. I was relieved to turn off of Sarahville Road and go west towards home although I still felt the danger of debris lurking in the deepening darkness. I was glad to get home.

While I was gone, brother Garry had called and reported on the huge hail he had gathered at their Union County farm on the banks of Clear Creek. He'd stuck some in their freezer to show off. We were so sorry to hear the TV reports of all the damage up at Christopher and Dix and then this morning to learn about the devastation and deaths in Tennessee.

April storms are as unwelcome as April showers are welcome.

Phone calls from Cecelie

Our youngest grandchild is now a very grown-up seven, and a phone call from her while she was on spring break was a welcome spring treat. She called Friday to tell me that later in the day they were going into Chicago to select her American Girl doll.

Feeling most of today's children have too many toys, I decided long ago that I would try to just buy each granddaughter one doll and that would be at age seven. (And with a few inexpensive exceptions, I have followed my own rule.) I started by buying the oldest granddaughter a special china doll from a special doll store in a nearby town. But a few granddaughters later, small china dolls were abundant many places, and by this time, the American Girl dolls were available. I think they are pricey, so I decided that such a doll might be better than a china one and might be helpful to mamas on a budget and something special for the seven-year-old.

I absolutely love the beautiful catalogs--better than the real dolls actually--and I love the concept of having a book for each doll. And when I was buying a couple at once, I was glad that particular Christmas that there were clothes to fit them in local department stores that were not as expensive as the brand clothes in the catalog.

Anyhow, Cecelie is seven and it was her choice to get an American Girl doll. And her mother decided a one-time trip to Chicago for the tea party and the musical/dance review offered at the store might be a special event for Cecelie to remember. Older sister Leslie and her girlfriend tagged along to shop in the area near the doll store. I am sure Cecelie enjoyed being the one tagged along with since she is usually having to attend her big sister and big brother's theatrical and musical events. And since Elijah had just returned from the Freeport seventh graders trip to Washington , D.C., it was neat for her to have some focus on her actitivies. So far, Cecelie does not think she wants to partake of the theater world, but she is a very fine actress, so we shall see. She is also athletic, and that may turn out to be her world.

In our Friday conversation, she was going that morning down to her neighborhood friend Tiffany's house, where they had a meeting planned with only girls allowed. They were going to have snacks, and Tiffany was going to continue to teach her to write cursive. I commented that was quite an achievement for a first grader, but she explained she had her friend to help her.

When we got in last evening from going to see the softball tourney at Pinckneyville, where our oldest granddaughter is assistant coach, there was a message on the answering machine from Cecelie. First she was explaining to her mother in the background that we were "not available." But evidently her mother quickly explained about leaving messages, and Cecelie did leave a very mature and delightful message thanking us for the doll and telling about her fun day. And furthermore, she added that when she had children someday, she was going to tell them about her American girl doll. What more could a grandmother want?

We have frozen at so many Pinckneyville tourneys in the past, that it was great to be there when the weather was just delightful yesterday afternoon. Although by the time Pinckneyville played Tara's alma mater Johnston City for third place around 4 or 5, everyone went to their cars and got out very welcome jackets. We sat on Pinkneyville's side out of loyalty to Tara, but I mentally cheered not only the Panthers but also all the girls we know and love from JC. There was no way that I wanted either side to lose, but someone had to do so, and yesterday it was Tara's team.

We could not take Tara and her husband out to supper as we would have liked to do, because they were quickly heading to South Bend,Indiana, where her dad, mom, and younger sister already were for yesterday and today's games on Notre Dame's Ivy Field. This was going to be Tara's only opportunity this spring to see the middle sister Erin play in the double header today.

We drove on back to Marion to eat supper, so that we could meet up with our youngest daughter and husband and children--the Taylors from Lake Saint Louis--who had made a very hurried trip down to get their camper opened up for the summer up at Wayside Farm. They were invited to the tourney, but the kids wanted to hang out at the farm and do all the fun things they do there. In fact, Trent was ready to leave the restaurant as soon as possible to get back to the camper and light the campfire he had already built. We were too full to go along for the s'mores and goodies over the campfire. Besides I had already talked to Jeannie up in Freeport, and I was eager to get home and hear Miss Cecelie's phone message.

Blogging About Tahlequah on AmazonConnect

One of the younger women was telling some of the other women at class meeting the other night about my blog, and I was asked how often I write. Since there really is no rhyme nor reason to my frequency (other than available time), I did not know how to answer.

At that point, it dawned on me that I had not shared my blogging on AmazonConnect. For some reason, Amazon calls the entries a "plog" rather than calling it a blog. I had not meant to be secretive. But first I had trouble getting approved or validated or whatever phrase is used. And then we went on our trip and I did not write, and since returning, I have also had some problems with the system. And there is no easy e-address for the blog.

However, if you are interested in our recent trip to Tahlequah, there are a couple of entries on that subject. You can simply google "AmazonConnect" and go to the master directory of all the authors who have responded to Amazon's invitation to interact with one's readers by blogging there. The directory allows you to click on letters of the alphabet, and if you click on "G" you can find "Sue Glasco."

Or if you simply go to Amazon.com and select books and "Sue Glasco," you will go to my book. Click on the book and go to the second page. (I don't know why all books have two pages, but that is the way it is.) On that second page below the description of the book are my most recent posts. And a place at the end to click for previous posts.

I thnk that second page also has a place for reader reviews, and I would love it if you would write one on Down on the Farm--if it is a nice review. Ha. Ha. Months ago a friend in Colorado was going to write a review, and for some reason at that time neither she nor I could locate the spot for writing a review. I don't think it was there at that time.

Another puzzlement I have about the Amazon site is the Listmania--folks can write a collection or list of books. It can be your favorite books or any other category you want to create. I was put on someone's list, and their list is on my book page. I created a list of "Southern Illinois Authors," and for awhile it was on Jon Musgrave's book page only, and now it is not even there. I thought the list of recommendations would be on the pages of all the Southern Illinois authors I listed. Jon's picture of his book did not show up on the list even tho he had a picture on his book page and I tried to get it on the list just as I did for the other authors. I always blame myself when something on the computer or Internet doesn't work quite right, but I really think I did everything correctly. Ah well. I think there is a directory of all the Listmania lists someplace also, but I don't think I have found it yet.

Birthday Breakfast with the Brothers

We woke early at our house as we had to get into Cracker Barrell, where Kenny, Garry and Ginger, Keith, and nephew Tim were all awaiting Gerald for his birthday breakfast. The standard order of the brothers is Country Morning Breakfast with "mock" eggs to go with the biscuits and gravy and a side of grits. The "boys" usually have to ask for more biscuits and gravy although the long-time waitresses know to bring it without being asked.

Garry encourged Ginger to order some sausage to go with her breakfast, as she is able to eat this meal better than any other since her stroke over four years ago, and he worries about her. She had to go to the gift store to find something for Easter for her great granddaughter, and she did. A darling little fuzzy lamb that made a baaa-baaa sound when squeezed. She had forgotten, of course, that she already had purchased the little girl a rabbit already at home, but Garry was happy to see her happy.

A Glasco brothers breakfast means constant laughter. Kenny was telling Tim all about his disappointment last night with his dog that did not have as good a nose in the cold as he'd hoped. Tim just smiled, but I fell for it never dreaming that Kenny (who I did not think coon hunted anymore) had made up the entire episode. Keith was proudly telling about his two baby Egyptian geese that have already hatched out. He was sure they'd freeze, but he says the tiny little darlings are marching around like they owned the world and the world was warm instead of cold. Garry entertained us with stories of going up on airplane rides with local friends and other chatter about local folk.

Before we got home, a phone call from our son let Gerald know Gerry was flying out today to go get his last load of dogs from Mexico. Actually his friend Rick had kinda filled us in on that plan before we left the Cracker Barrell. So suddenly Gerald's plan for his birthday was to take Gerry to the airport in Saint Louis. Since he had been trying to catch up to visit with him to hear about the Notre Dame games in California, Gerald was pleased.

With lots of cards and emails along with telephone calls from children and grandchildren, Gerald says he has had a good day. Of course, he did not get 60 yellow and peach roses like his sister in Wyoming did last week, but I don't know where we would have put 60 roses anyway!

First Day of Spring--BRRRRR!

I woke up on this first day of spring hearing rain, sleet, and wind as I dozed in and out of sleep and kept on dreaming. Then one big bang made it impossible for me to go back to sleep when the wind somehow slammed our porch swing right outside our bedroom up against the deck banister. The wind has never done that before.

We had beautiful weather last week, and daffodils and forsythia are blooming brightly. And since we have had a warm winter, perhaps it is only "fair" that we have a chilly start to spring. But I have loved the warm weather so much that I could not help but be a bit disappointed at this bitter weather snap.

March has always been a Glasco birthday month. We enjoyed an account of the birthday of Gerald's sister out in Wyoming, and the brothers here are planning for Gerald's birthday breakfast day after tomorrow. We were gone when the brothers celebrated Garry's birthday, so Gerald is still planning on getting together with him. Nephew Kerry has had his birthday already, and our grandson Trent turned 13 on the 2nd of March.

Granddaughter Cecelie had her seventh birthday yesterday up in Freeport, on what would have been Gerald's mother's 98th birthday. She used to cook up a storm in March fixing birthday meals for her brood. But she died young at just 66, so we have been without her in our lives for a long time. We still miss her. She was so good to all of us.

Missing Phil and Rosie's Good Cookin'

It is a let down to come home to my own food after all the good restaurant meals and the exceptional cuisine one always gets at Phil and Rosie's. Both are such good cooks and have the skill of seasoning ordinary food so it is much better than the average bear's.

Inspired by Phil's sweet smelling and tasty meatloaf made with salsa sauce, I decided to experiment. Except oddly I was out of salsa tho I usually have it on hand. So I decided to open a jar of picante sauce I have had in the pantry for months for some recipe (have forgotten what) that I never got around to trying. Well, first I put in a bit more than I intended cause it plopped out when I poured from the jar. Then I forgot to coat the top with catsup, so the finished product was dry and maybe I cooked it a mite long. I made two small loaves so I could take one to our daughter, and they were edible--but they surely were not yummy like Phil's.

Rosie had made a great salad with onion rings and orange slices. I've done that too, but again her salad was more flavorful than mine. Nevertheless, I will be using that variation on green stuff again soon cause my mouth waters thinking about her salad. I came home with her broccoli cornbread and dill biscuit recipes that we enjoyed, and wished I had asked for her chop suey recipe that she served one lunch.

Like so many of our retired friends, Rose and Phil have gone to two meals a day plus snacks. But they still insisted on fixing us three. We might be as slender as they are if we could make the switch. But Gerald works so hard outside that I would feel bad not fixing meals according to our regular three times a day custom. I already do not cook breakfast since he gets up so much earlier than I do--anytime from 4 a.m. to 6:30 a.m. while I like to sleep till 7 or later when I get a chance.

So I fix coffee the night before, lay out the dishes for his orange juice and cereal, etc., and occasionally Gerald varies his menu with an egg he fixes in the microwave. Once or twice a year or more I actually cook breakfast, but frankly it is not very good when I do. Nor are most of my other meals since one of my goals is to fix five-to-fifteen minute meals whenever possible, so I have time to do other things. However, I will try to create Phil's scrambled eggs with onions and green chili peppers. Now that was a breakfast!

Shiloh got to eat some too when he dropped in to clean their backyard for spring. Phil and Rosie are always ready to feed a hungry grandchild who stops by before or after work. Their pantry, fridge, and freezer are always full of good things to eat. (You'd have to see it to believe it. They are ready for earthquake, tornado, bird flu, or terrorists if the roads get shut off, but then they always have been.) They feed a lot of people often. Yet my sister could give lessons on how to be thrifty in buying groceries. I admire that skill of hers also. She studies the ads and stores and buys thoughtfully. They like to share, and their culinary and money management skills are used to that end. The grocery carry-out boy followed me and Rosie to her car to be sure that Phil knew he was not going to be at the grocery store during his birthday week as he was taking off on vacation to do another job. But he knew Phil always brings him a birthday cake--and he wanted Phil to know he would have to have it early this year!

I have never eaten a cookie I did not like whether it was my own or someone else's. However, I won't even try to compete with Phil's famous chocolate chip cookies and all the variations he makes. The orange extract he puts with the chocolate and butterscotch chips make them very special.

Because of the need to have the car in Tulsa on Friday, we left Thursday morning even though I really would have loved to go to Hereford to meet my new great great niece Autumn Rose and to see her three brothers again, who were so adorable two years ago at their Aunt Tori's wedding--the last time I got to see them. We were invited down for a meal with Autumn Rose's grandmother,Cyndi, and she is a great cook too just like her parents. If we had gone, it would have been after Rosie's tai chi class on Thursday mornings and so it would have been evening when we got back to Amarillo and we would have needed to spend the night.

Once we woke up on Friday, I would have been very reluctant to leave. Friday is the weekly gathering at Rose and Phil's when all the kids, grandkids, and great grandkids who aren't working or otherwise occupied come to enjoy Pop's cooking. He was smoking a ham the weekend we left. Rosemary fixes great side dishes to go with the chicken, brisket, hamburgers, tacos, or whatever meat Phil fixes in the smoker. They usually have ranch beans, which are much better in Texas than the ones I buy in Illinois. And, of course, a yummy dessert or two altho their kids aren't too into desserts I'm told. Although they may have l0 to 20 there, they always have an extra plate or two to send to a neighbor or shut-in. I really would have like to have been there to participate last Friday night. I enjoy the Friday night feasts and fellowship vicariously whenever I talk to Rosie on the phone.

But fortunately we left on Thursday to get the car fixed. Thus, we had a very pleasant trip on Highway 40 without even suspecting that the Saturday we might have come home was the day when the wildfires would kill four travelers on that road. We hear they are having some rain now, and we are so glad.

It also is raining in California, and Notre Dame's softball game was postponed. Since Gerry, Vickie, and Geri Ann's tickets home are for Sunday morning, they are concerned they might miss a game or two if everything gets postponed too long.

Tulsa, Texas, Tahlequah

The reason it has been two weeks since I have written any Woodsong Notes is that the last two days of February, when I was supposed to be packing and preparing to leave on our long-planned trip, I had the old-fashioned respiratory flu replete with chills, fever, cough, running nose, and lots of misery thrown in for good measure. (Yes, I had a flu shot last fall.)

Gerald suggested it might be wise to postpone our trip, but I could not bear that disappointment on top of the misery. I argued that I might as well as be sick on the road as at home, and surely by the time we arrived I would feel better and far enough along to not be contagious. I did feel better, altho I am just now getting back my energy level and the cough is hanging on.

We stopped at Branson where we saw The Magnificent 7 and then onto Tulsa to see grandaughter Erin play softball with the Notre Dame team. When we planned the trip at home, we had tried to get a room at the same motel as the team, but they were full and recommended one, which we thought would be nearby. Actually it wasn't and was a little old to please Gerald, but to me a room in hand was better than tostart over to find a room, and besides the room was very large and well appointed with king-size bed, small couch, and large TV screen, etc. I did not see how we could do much better.

It was bitter cold when we arrived on Friday despite some green in the turf on the field at the University of Tulsa stadium. On Friday night and then on Saturday, we wore double-layered sox, slacks, and shirts topped with a winter coat and then surrounded with blankets. We had carried chairs with us as we've had too much experience with aluminum stadium seats in the past. However, the Donna J. Hardesty stadium had very comfortable concrete-rock seats. Nevertheless, our chairs with windbreaking rugs on the back were warmer.

By Sunday after worship downtown at First Baptist Church, which is in an exciting remodeling project and whose pastor brought a very worth while message, the weather was warmer and we were beginning to see blooms on the pear trees and even an occasional daffadil.

We had enjoyed seeing our son and his wife and their youngest daughter at the tourney, and they took us out for Sunday dinner after the game. Eventually we were allowed to travel across the town to meet up with the team before they flew out of Tulsa, so that was good. (Because of losing in the 8th inning, we could not immediately visit with the team.) Our son's family was to fly out shortly later.

We went back to our motel, and I immediately went to sleep for several hours as I did anytime I sat still for awhile. My flu was better but my energy level was zilch. After I woke up and we were relaxing watching television and snacking, we suddenly had the electricity in our room go out. We called the office and the repair person could not fix it and suggested we move to another room. (Yes, ours was the only room without electricity!) I could not imagine trying to pack up in the dark. We decided it was time to go to bed anyhow. So we did not move. We packed the next morning with a flashlight and the light from the area outside our draperies.

We were up early to get our beautiful new car back to the garage which had almost got it fixed on Friday when we arrived with all kinds of flashing warning lights. But a couple more warning messages showed up and the garage was closed until Monday morning. To make a long story short, the mechanic who replaced our main computer when the car had 150 miles on it had left the electrical harness on the exhaust. Quite naturally the harness had started to burn up with wires melding together. (So much for buying a new car to insure a peaceful relaxing drive. Ha.)

We were anxious to get on down to Amarillo to see my sister Rosemary, which was really the main purpose of our trip. Robert, the very sharp technician there at the garage, thought he could get it fixed if he had all day, but Gerald only gave him till l0 a.m. since we really had meant to be on our way the day before. So he did get most of the trouble cleared up and once again we had cruise control, and only one little warning light.

We had a great visit in Amarillo, but cut our visit short by a day or so in order to get back to the Tulsa garage to give Robert all day on Friday to figure out the remaining problems. Gerald had great confidence in the personnel there. As we traveled back, the brown highway scenes were broken up by occasional green wheat fields, some with cattle grazing on them. We loved seeing the huge modern windmills providing electricity along the way as well as the old-fashioned windmills that provided water for pastures. We stopped and had an excellent meal at a Cherokee restaurant and gift shop as we had also done on way down to Amarillo.

So we spent Thursday night in Tulsa again but at a different motel with electricity this time, and the next day while Robert fixed the car, we took a loaner pickup to Tahlequah and had a great day there at the Cherokee Heritage Center.

Our trip home was boring without any flashing lights and entertaining calls to OnStar to amuse us, but everything was greener by the hour as we drove through Missouri. There were lots of daffadils now and many blooming trees, and even greener wheat fields along the highway. We managed to connect by phone with all of our children as we drove along, and it was good to know everyone was okay and everyone's lives were full and busy on a Saturday morning.

Maybe we took too many breaks because we missed picking up our accumulated mail at the Marion post office by about 30 seconds. As Gerald rushed in, the employee had just shut the door and locked it. We stopped for some fresh milk and orange juice and other groceries, and then pulled into the farm in the middle of the afternoon.

Our son-in-law was down, and soon he and Gerald were working on the lights on a trailor he wanted to take back to Lake Saint Louis. I started deleting emails, listening to 14 phone messages and returning calls, and doing the first two loads of laundry. (I had two phone calls from cousin Helen Sitter, who so pleased with a genealogy left in her door that she assumed I had left for her! Since I hadn't, I had to plead innocent and helped her decide it was her nephew Dick who had probably left it for her!)

Having heard about the heavy rains and wind while we were gone, we were pleased and grateful to see everything in good shape. Two duck nests were filled with eggs beside the house, and Gerald hurried to take all the ducks some corn as Gerry had done for them earlier in the week. Gerry had told us we had some teal show up, and we were glad they were still there on the lake. I was pleased to see two hollyhock plants had survived the winter and were making a good start toward adulthood. The day lillies are green again, and I made a mental note that I must get busy cleaning out the flower beds of winter's dead grass and debris. Rosemary called before I had a chance to call her to make sure we had made it home safely, and I was able to report that I'd talked with our cousin Helen after we arrived home and she was doing well.

Hanging with Writers and Friends

After my usual Saturday routine of changing the bed linens, putting the sheets in the washer, and enjoying my coffee, yogurt, and bagel with the morning paper, I was off early to get to Samuel's Upward Bound basketball game. I was impressed with the progress in skills that the boys have made.

After a very special conversation with another team member's grandmother who had gone to school to my mother and dad at the Jonesboro Grade School and who took me down memory lane, I hurried down to Union County to treat myself to attending the Writers Group there. It is really too far to go often, but since Pat Evans had sold my book to a fellow church member, I had a special reason to attend: Pat could take her the autographed book tomorrow. At the Stinson Library parking lot, I enjoyed seeing bright red letters on the outside of the downstairs windows beckoning us in with the word: WRITERS. It was very satisfying to know I was wanted inside!

Today the program was done by two UCWG members: (1) our president Joanne Blakely, who does literacy workshops with both adults and children encouraging them to express themselves through poetry and (2) Barbara Steffans, a friend from long ago, giving instructions on binding a book--for those who might want to gift a grandchild or someone special with a very personal copy of a handmade book. And there was lots of chatter about upcoming meetings, workshops, conferences, places to submit, and writing experiences as the members found delight in communing with others who share their interest and enthusiasm about the solitary occupation of communing with our computers.

Afterwards it was fun eating Chinese on the main street restaurant there in Anna with Pat and also Lois Barrett, who had driven all the way from Harrisburg, defying those who want her to slow down after her surgery. Lois was sporting a T shirt with her name and her book's name: When the Earthquake Spoke on the front and on the back an actual picture of the cover of her novel about the 1812 earthquake in this region. After a laughter-filled lunch, I headed back up Route 57 to the farm to get ready to travel to Harrisburg ourselves for the 25th wedding anniversay of Basil and Melody Holmes.

The Holmes' church have a school and a youth minstry in the old Malan Junior High School at Harrisburg, so there was a large auditorium for the solemn and impressive ceremony, where their three beautiful daughters and others sang, and Melody and
Basil renewed their vows with a salt covenant--something I had not seen before. Their declarations to each other of their continuing love and of being each other's best friend brought tears to most eyes.

Next we moved up to the school's cafeteria for a lovely dinner and visiting with friends, and we got to see the bridal couple kiss again. After the wedding cake, we saw their anniversary dance. It is good to see couples still in love after 25 years together.

Snow Didn't Stop the Trail of Tears in 1838.

I went to bed early to be rested to head to Marion, Kentucky, which would be quite an adventure for me. I was planning to go to Samuel's basketball game at 8:30 in Marion, IL, but leave early to meet Pat Evans in the church parking lot and take off to Harrisburg and eventually cross the Ohio River to Marion, KY, and meet Dallas Cain and a group of Cherokee including someone from Tahlequah. My hope was that one more person, who is especially knowledgable, might know or hear about someone who "owned" Priscilla, the little slave girl freed on the Trail of Tears in 1839.

With snow all over ground and travel advisories coming in on our little radio/warning system that someone gave us for Christmas once, it was obvious when I got up at 7 that this was not a good travel day. Before I had called her, Pat called and agreed. I called Dallas and he too had decided this was not the day to go to Kentucky. I don't plan to even go down the lane for the morning paper or for our mail when it arrives.

Gerald and his brother Garry along with our son-in-law Brian and our grandson Trent went to the annual farm show at Louisville, KY, early yesterday morning. In our phone call last night, Gerald thought the weather would still be good today and encouraged me feel competent to drive to the gathering in Kentucky. Now I must worry about their group getting home safely. We avoid going north this time of year after more than one harrowing trip back from our daughter's home in Freeport. But the trip to Louisville has not usually been a concern.

Nevertheless, I am thinking of the ones up north. Leslie is involved with the state speech contest today, which is in the Chicago area this year after being at Carbondale last year. So I know their family had to leave Freeport today. My friend Roberta's granddaughter Katie is also representing Johnston City High School at the state speech contest in radio speaking, I found out last night when we talked on the phone. And my granddaughter Tara and new husband Bryan are up north, where his family is giving a lovely reception for them. Fortunately we did not accept that invitation although we would have loved to be there.

Tara's mother had already made flight arrangements in December to be in Las Vegas to see Erin play at the opening tournament of Notre Dame's softball season yesterday. We were not surprised when Gerry managed to make arrangements to leave his lodge in Mexico so that he could be there with Vickie to see those important first games of the season.

ND lost their first game yesterday (barely) and won the second. By now they have played the third game, and I am expecting a phone call any minute from Gerald about the results of that one. I got excited when the phone rang awhile ago. I did not appreciate the recorded phone call from Bruce trying to make me rich by a home business that involves making phone calls. I am on the do-not-call list, but I still get these irritating interuptions by phone.

Grandma Shirley is taking care of Geri Ann while Vickie is away, and we were all relieved when Geri Ann got back from the volleyball game at Anna Thurday night, and the threatening tornadoes did not develop, just as I was glad to be home safely from the Writers Guild at Carterville the same night.

Except for Samuel's basketball game across town this morning,I am hoping that the Cedars don't have to leave home today. I bet the snow was pretty through their many windows and skylights. I suspect Mary Ellen is tooling around in the Lake Saint Louis area showing houses whether there is snow or not. Brianna is probably snuggling in if she doesn't have a girl friends' outing or unless she decided to run around with her mother.

One of the disadvantages of a large family is that we can be strung out from here to yon, and there is always the possibility of travel accidents. On this snowy frigid weekend, I will be glad when everyone gets back home to their own snug beds again. But I know they won't stay there long.

Volleyball, Valentines, and Viewing Very Old Videos

Geri Ann is now into volleyball games, and we hadn't been able to go to any because of conflicts. We finally made a game last night. For that matter, we have only seen one of Samuel's Upward Bound basketball games on Saturday morning thus far. It is difficult to do all we want to do. And,of course, seeing the away-from-here grandkids in any of their activities is always a very rare treat.

My valentine celebration could not have been more perfect. Gerald took us to dinner and then we went on to the one-woman (almost) play based on the book about the fictional diaries of Mary Todd Lincoln. The author of the book was also the one-woman (almost) actor in the play. The "almost" is because Lincoln spoke and was shown in silouhette behind a screen occasionally. I had never seen that done before, but it was very effective. Then at the reception afterwards, Gerald bought me the well-researched book by M. Kay duPont and she graciously signed the books for all of there at her table. What a delightful evening seeing and talking to friends at the Civic Center and being allowed into the heart and mind of Mary Todd Lincoln and her husband for 90 minutes. I have already started the book, but made myself put it down.

Gerald has been viewing old videos for a few days now. He was doing so on Saturday, and I was miserable wanting to join him. I could hear the giggling and very young voices of our long-ago grandchildren drifting up the stairway, and it took discipline for me to not go to the family room. But I was preparing for a presentation on "Priscilla on the Trail of Tears" at the Genealogical Society of Southern Illinois the next day. Spending the day watching videos wasn't the plan. But this week, I have joined him. It is startling to see the now grown-up grandkids once again as the delightful tots they were back then. And it is sad but stirring to see our parents and some friends we no longer have with us.

A Warm Winter So Far

All this wonderful "spring" weather we have been having in Southern Illiois has caused our ducks to think it is nesting time. We have had all seven of the ducks Gerald raised last summer along with the two geese, who think they are ducks, wandering in our front and side yards looking for nesting spots. I am grateful for the warm weather for all those that have avoided the potentially high heat bills that would have occurred if we had a "normal" winter with much cold weather. I am also grateful for the Cedars who are continuing to work on their house. It is much more pleasant to do so in warm weather than in bitter snowy cold weather. We occasionally have a biting wind at some point in the day or night, but overall the weather has been especially nice this winter for our area.

I ran by the Cedars for the first time in awhile this afternoon and ended up staying with Samuel while his parents were out on business. Josh came over and the boys played in the park. When they came in with bright rosy cheeks, I teased that they had on too much rouge on their cheeks. Not to be outdone, Josh told me I should have seen the mud on their shoes before they scraped it off in the grass. Sam and I were two inches taller, he declared.

I am enjoying the driving the new car since it has been repaired with a new computer module from Texas replacing the defective one. Then the other 17 computers had to be reprogrammed so they could talk to the new module. I am glad somebody understands all this. At least I hope somebody does. Of course, I never understood how old-fashioned cars worked, so I don't need to expect to understand how computerized ones work. I can remember in high school general science class believing that I understood how refridgerators work. Occasionally I think about that and wish I could remember. I hate to think how much I have forgotten over the years.

We enjoyed a visit from our friends Willitt and Carolyn Pierce as they passed through our area from north of Chicago on their way to visit a son's family in Atlanta and then on to a time-share in Florida. They were also going to visit some high school friends of Willitt in our area who have retired from a career in Africa as missionaries.

On Saturday a number of us signed books at the first Winter Book Fair at the Illiois Centre Mall. Our tables were scattered from one end of the mall to the other, so the writers missed getting to visit with one another as we often do. But it was good to see Kestner Wallace again as his table was next to mine. His children were with him, and when he substituted for Violet Toler as a reader, I was told his daughter read for him. My table was just outside the community room, and I wanted to go hear that and other presentations, but I couldn't leave my table of course. Also on our end of the hall was Lois Barrett getting to make her first signing since her surgery, and she was accompanied by her two sharp teenage grandchildren: Noelle--already a published poet--and Matt Fowler, who serves as Lois's webmaster. I appreciated Pat Evans showing up to show support for Southern Illinois Writers Guild members who were there, and it was great to have her at my table when it was my turn to read. It was also exciting to have Deb Tucker, our Guild newsletter editor, wandering around taking photos for our newsletter--photos will be a first for us.

Sunday was a potluck at church after morning worship, and as always the food was too good. We have some exceptional cooks. There was a big pot of beans, corn muffins made with yeast, a wonderful bowl of cooked cabbage, and just about anything else one might think about wanting to eat on a winter day. The pies and cakes on the dessert table were almost too pretty to disturb. Our hostess Shirley Butler had the basement dining rooms decorated with bright red and white Valentine accessories and tablecloths, so our meal was in a visually delightful environment.

As we sat talking after the meal in that pleasant place, confidences were exchanged as someone at our table asked probing questions of our oldest active member. Zella Cain raised two handicapped children as well as four handsome healthy ones. The questions came because several of us have children and grandchldren with disabilities, and Zella has always been an inspiration to us. Zella did not disappoint us as she shared some of the ways she coped and talked of the pain that comes when we see our children suffer. We came away knowing what we already knew: there are no easy answers and no one knows for sure what is always the right thing to do. Yet we also knew that Zella had made it through the difficulties and has a host of descendants and friends whose lives are made stronger because of her example through trials and tribulations.

Searching for Priscilla on the Trail of Tears

Wednesday was a good day for us, but a sad one in our community. Because a credit card deal spurred Gerald into New Car Fever, he traded on Tuesday and was to pick up the new car on Wednesday. I reminded him when he came in all aglow on Tuesday night that I had an luncheon appointment with Virginia Davis, a descendant of Winstead Davie--an appointment I had been trying to find time to arrange for three years. (So I felt a bit of a let down that suddenly someone else was making plans for "my" car on Wednesday.)

I had also planned to drop by the coffee shop for coffee with Union County Writers Group, who meet there informally at 9 on Wednesdays. And there were several other things I hoped to work into my day concerning my search for answers to the mystery of the little slave girl, Priscilla, whom Brazilla Silkwood bought off the Trail of Tears. I wanted to hang loose and do what I wanted to do. Frankly, I did not want anyone else along cramping my style. (Cause then I would have to be nice and try to do things they would want to do as well. And I felt justified to want to selfishly focus on my plans.)

So I felt a bit put out that suddenly my carefully planned day was going differently than I had supposed. I am a nervous driver to begin with and driving new cars always make me even more nervous until I get the kinetic changes absorbed and feel comfortable again. Gerald kindly said I could take the old car to Anna and pick up the new one later in the day--but I knew he was eager to drive the new one, and I didn't want him to have to wait. And I speculated what would happen if I drove the old car and had a wreck and messed up his trade before we picked up the new car. (I think like that. That is why I am a nervous driver.)

So he promised he would "be good" and we could use our cell phones if we ended up at different places. We went to bed Tuesday planning on our both going to pick up the new car after we dropped by the Cedars and took Samuel to school since we were going to be in town anyway. Then we would take the drive down to Union County together. By this time, I was looking forward to his company extremely grateful that I did not have to drive the new car.

Wednesday morning it occurred to me that having a new car to drive would be a perfect excuse to go across the Mississippi and visit the Missouri State Park called the Trail of Tears--something else I have wanted to do for three years. So after the delay in Marion for paper work and getting the free On-Star account set up, we were off on our trip to Missouri with just enough time to make it there and back and be at our 1 p.m. luncheon date at the famous Dixie Barbecue in Jonesboro, where people have been known to run into the likes of Jim Edgar and other well-known folk mixing with the farmers, townspeople, and housewives and others brave enough to stand the smoke.

We stopped in Cape down by the river and read all the information on outside markers of the the recently restored "Red House," where Meriweather Lewis had dinner with the trader and his Shawnee wife. There we looked at the large map for tourists, which showed the Trail of Tears park and started on. When we got uncertain of our directions after not wanting to take time to stop at the Chamber of Commerce, we used our On-Star and a young lady in Canada quickly told us exactly where we were and how to continue confidently to make it to the Trail of Tears Park.

We got back to Dixie at 2 minutes till 1, and so did Virginia and that went very well. We had an almost two-hour visit, and she shared her extensive knowledge of the Davie genealogy and Gerald went uptown and made copies of what she shared with me. And we talked about people we knew from our childhood. Except for bumping into each other briefly at the Potato Barn and at a funeral, we had not seen each other since those pre-1950 days. It was a good visit.

Failing to make contact with Michael Scott, who has researched the Trail of Tears through Southern Illinois extensively, we went on to our friends Harlan and Carmen Coffman, who have just purchased and moved into the "Ticky" Norris home in Jonesboro. We had been sent a photo of the house in their Christmas card with an open invitation to come by anytime even though they had just moved in. It was wonderful to be back in that beautiful home, where I spent many happy hours as a child with my friend Lenora. Mrs. Norris was always so beautiful and kind to all of us children, and she always made her children's friends welcome and she gave parties for us. It is always fun to visit with Harlan and Carmen, but we almost did not get away when the two men started sharing their recent experiences talking on the phone for hours with their wireless phone company trying to get stuff straightened out.

We started for home and commented on the Anna hill how great the car ran. We had been bragging on it all day--especially in the TOT park where we had wonderful roads and a great car and no one else on the roads. We knew how rich Americans were as we drove along the beautiful area, and our hearts were ashamed to think of the difference in our comfortable travel and that of the Cherokee there in the same place.

We made it up the big hill on Route 57 at the Lick Creek area with ease. Before too long, Gerald noted that the car was kicking out of cruise control. Odd. By the time we got to the construction area near Marion, suddenly we were losing power, lights were flashing scary messages on the dashboard, semis were zooming by us, and for the second time that day we call On-Star. The man who answered did a diagnostic test (how in the world??) and told us to get to the dealer as soon as possible. But when he called them, just as we supposed, they were already closed. He said it might help to pull off, shut the car down, and then start it again. Of course, in the construction zone, there really was no place to pull over, but when we could we did. It seemed to help a little and we did make it home safely. We were feeling pretty down and disappointed with life and the new car, when we began to hear reports of the terrible wreck on Route 57.

We went to bed with the knowledge that six people had been killed shortly after we had been in that very spot. Fearing our car would die completely and we'd be hit, we had been very grateful to get on to a safer place on the road. We had been very grateful to make it home despite the nerve-wracking surges as the car would lose power over and over. But we knew we were blessed beyond what we deserved when we found out about the terrible loss of life on that highway. Life is very strange and never fair in any way that humans can figure out. Nevertheless, we all know that strange and unfair though it is, life is very precious and the loss of six people at once, three of whom were such beautiful children, is difficult for the all of us to deal with.

Cedar Family Goes Back Home

Late Saturday night Dave and Katherine and 8-year-old Samuel loaded their van and car with clothes, pajamas, and miscellaneous supplies and headed back to town to sleep in their own home, which is undergoing extensive remodeling. Some of their things are still here at Woodsong since the new closets as yet lack any kind of organizational fixtures. Davie, who has helped so much, had moved in a couple days before, and the family is enjoying being together again.

Their new home is beautiful with lots of sunlight flooding in with a view of trees, birds, squirrels, shrubs, and the park next door. The spaciousness that allows Katherine's motorized wheelchair to navigate easily from one room to the next through wide hallways is restfully delightful to all of us.

Unfortunately, there is still a great deal of work to be completed. And it will be done as soon as possible. In the meantime, the family is luxuriating in simply being back at their very own place. There will be weeks of hard labor yet to complete the master bath and update the furnace and other needed work. They must still empty the rented storage units and unpack the many many boxes. But they will be doing this in the privacy of their own home and in the midst of the new beauty that their hard work has created.

Since I have not completely reorganized my life since we moved in to Woodsong over four years ago, I can only hope that the Cedars are more efficient than I am. Regardless, they will thoroughly enjoy their new quarters.

I must admit that Woodsong seems quieter and somewhat empty. But not to worry. The Taylor family are coming this weekend. Brianna wishes Samuel stayed here all the time. She liked knowing when she arrived at the farm that Sam was waiting to play and visit. And I am sure Trent feels the same way since within minutes of arriving, he and Samuel were deep into a world of their own.

Writers Guild Critique Night

A critique session was our program at the first 2006 meeting of Southern Illinois Writers Guild last night. Critique nights are alway exciting as we get to hear such diverse offerings. Of necessity, readings must be brief, with 19 in our large reading circle. Yet it is kinda nice to be left wishing for more. Our new program chair Deb Tucker kept the flow of readings going rapidly with comfortable discussion and comments after the readings. Not everyone read, but everyone told a little about themselves and their particular writing interests. Because writing is a solitary experience, most writers relish contact with others who understand their frustraions, problems, and pleasures. I've also found that writers are extremely generous in offering help to other writers, who could be considered competitors, but instead are considered colleagues and friends with a shared passion for words and stories.

Bill O'Shea, author of the compelling The Foot Post, a few years back has completed another novel--though he said he did not expect to write a second one. After four years as as a CASA volunteer, Bill felt he had to do something to help the public understand what molested children go through. His topic is not a pretty one, but the reality of child abuse makes it necessary for a humane community to wake up and recognize what is going on in the homes and schools and lanes of our cities, towns, villages and rural areas. His purpose is to help us understand. When the book is published, Bill plans to donate all profits to prevent child abuse. We'll keep you posted when the book becomes available.

A Brief Snow

Fluffy white flakes filled the view out of our windows last Friday, and they comforted me as I wrote a sad condolence note to a friend who had just lost her husband. Driving to Crab Orchard for my hair appointment, the bushy cedars beside the road were tipped in white, and all the other trees had trunks painted white on their north side. The next morning when I stepped out of my bedroom, Samuel had already been outside, and he was standing in the front hall eating snow out of his mitten. But the snow soon melted and only patches in the grass remained.

Because of the snow, Gerald did refill the bird feeder on the deck that the wind had tipped over, and we are getting some small birds. They are brown with some reddish feathers.I think they are finch. We have hoped to see our pair of woodpeckers again who came all last winter, but so far we haven't. We rarely see cardinals here at this house while we used to have an entire side lawn full of a flock of them occasionally over at Pondside Farm. So it was especially sad for Gerald to find a dead cardinal on the deck the other day.

We assume it ran into one of the glass doors. We hadn't had the problem here. (Barn swallows used to do that on the porch at the other house.) We do have hummingbirds who get into Gerald's high-ceiling shop and can't find their way out, and he cannot shoo them out. It amazes me that they can find their way to Mexico and back and yet they cannot find their way out of the large open doors that they flew through into the shop.

Without snow on the ground, there is no need for birds to come to the deck. The current government conservation plan for farmers to plant native grasses for ground cover provides abundant bird seed. Our fields are full of birds feasting there. They don't usually need our handouts. I'm not talking about the ducks and geese, however. Gerald has them spoiled for regular snacks of corn spread beside the lake. They gather at the edge in the lake below my bedroom window and noisly breakfast most mornings.

The Cedars and we had a hello/goodbye lunch in a Marion restaurant yesterday with Erin, who drove in Saturday evening from the Chicago area after her California trip. She left us to complete her "grandmother run" to go on past our place to her other grandmother and great grandmother's houses. I suspect by now she back on the highway again returning to South Bend. Her spring semester classes begin in the morning. I bet the snow hasn't melted there.

Save Those Empty Medicine Bottles!!

Mindy Hammonds explained that one way the Hands of Hope family clinic saves money is to use donated medicine bottles.

So today I searched out a cardboard box from the tornado shelter and will label it before Sunday and place it in the church hallway. I had taken bottles there before so this was not new information to me, but several had no idea that their old bottles could have practical value to someone else.

Mindy told us that we do not even need to remove the labels since they have volunteers who put the bottles in a steamer that takes care of removing them. The first time I took bottles there, I had conscientiously removed the labels. What a job!! And what a relief to find that was not necessary. You may of course if you desire for privacy, but you don't need to for the clinic's sake.

If you live in Williamson, Johnson, or Franklin Counties, just drop your bottles by Hands of Hope Family Clinic at 808 West Prairie in Marion. Or better yet, collect as a group, and then only one person will need to make the delivery trip. That saving of gas can help our environment even as your medicine bottles help the working families who cannot afford health care.

If you live elsewhere, find out if there is a clinic somewhere near you that could use your empty bottles after you use the meds. The clinic brochure tells us that nationwise, over 44 million Americans are either uninsured or underinsured. Putting off needed health care creates more serious problems for those who are already struggling to live on a low income.

The Hands of Hope Family Clinic accepts no fees for services and cannot bill Medicaid for public assistance. These families are not elgible for such help because they are working and make more than allowed.

The brochure explains, "The clinic is organized as a tax-exempt , Illinois not-for-profit corporation and is governed by a board of directors made up of area health care and public health oficials, business professionals, physicians, clergy, and lay people. Day to day operations of the clinic are overseen by a paid director and two part-time employees. All other medical, nursing care, case management services, and clerical support is provided by volunteers."

If you have time and needed skills to volunteer, see if you can help. If you have money to donate, the clinic can use it. Otherwise, save those empty medicine bottles and help out in this small way!

Hands of Hope for Working Families

Our church hosted an associational women's meeting on Monday, and we were pleased to learn more about Sarah Bethel's Hands of Hope Family Clinic. Actually Dr. Jack Keller and many others from First Baptist Church and other churches dreamed this dream and brought it to fruition. But Mindy Hammond, director, let us know that Sarah was instrumental in causing her to give up her well-paid job and come to direct the clinic.

Mindy paid much well-earned respect to Sarah, her former supervisor at Marion Hospital, who with others established this clinic for working families. Despite being employed, these families ccannot afford health care nor health insurance. Mindy told us that the average salary of people they help is $7 an hour. Figure that out with a 40 hour week (which many people cannot obtain) and you will quickly see why these citizens cannot afford doctors nor expensive medicines.

Hands of Hope is open to see patients on Tuesday evenings and Thursday afternoons thanks to Dr. Keller and Dr. Jeff Parks and many other volunteers. The clinic is not designed for emergency care, and patients must have an appointment, which they can obtain by calling (618)998-8282 for information.

People can call Monday through Thursday from 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. Clinic workers will determine if they are elgible when they call to set up an appointment. Patients are asked to bring proof of income and residency in Franklin, Johnson, or Williamson Counties to their first appointment.

The brochure passed out explains the types of care available to uninsured working families who meet the income criteria and do not have access to Medicaid, Medicare, or Veterans Benefits.

Available care includes: scheduled primary care, check-ups, physical exams, acute non-emergency medical care, diagnostic tests (such as lab work or X rays) at designated hospitals when ordered by clinic physicians, help with obtaining prescription medications, and referrals to other agencies. Mindy also stated that prayer is used not only to keep the clinic open, but to help those who need better health.

Since the clinic was established in 1999, thousands upon thousands of dollars' worth of care and medications have been provided to working families. At the beginning, no other such clinic existed south of Springfield. Now both Carbondale and Saline County also have clinics.

Many more serious health problems can be prevented when early care is provided to people. How good it is that so many have donated time, service, and money to keep the clinic going. If you gave to United Way in Marion, you helped the clinic financially. But other donations are always needed along with your prayers. Why not drop by 808 West Prairie Street in Marion and take them a small check? Or a big check if you can afford it!

Can you say "cantonment"?

At the monthly meeting of the area genealogical society yesterday, not only was it confirmed for us that "cantonment" meant camp as we thought, we also learned to say that middle syllable to sound like "tone."

On January 1, 1800, Cantonment Wilkinson was established on a riverside slope near the Chain of Rocks that caused boats to slow down at that spot on the Ohio River. Unlike Fort Massac or other forts with a barricade to protect the smaller group of men inside, the cantonment was a collection of small log cabins closely built together with each one probably housing six men. Because France was frightening the United States with the possibility of cooperating with Spain in a threatening way that might shut off our access to using the Mississippi River, forces were thought to be needed in this area. The camp existed until late summer 1802 when the threat diminished.

Although the camp housed close to 2000 men and was the largest camp of its time, all above ground traces of the camp were gone. Until 2003, historians were not certain exactly where it stood. At that time, SIUC archeologist Mark Wagner and local residents were able to identify a large farm field on private land where a portion of the camp was located.

During excavations in the summer of 2004, Wagner, his students, and volunteers discovered thousands of fragments of glass, ceramic, and brick along with military buttons and other artifacts. Writer-producer Richard Kuenneke filmed the Summer 2004 excavactions and produced a four part series about the work that aired on WSIU-TV. We were able to see part of this during the program.

With that many soldiers crammed into a small space and sanitary provisions leaving much to be desired, many soldiers died of dysentary and malaria and were buried at the camp. A lovely picture of a farm pond was shown with the explanation that when it was built, human remains indicated that had been part of the burial grounds. Among the many that did not die of illness were six soldiers who became a part of the Lewis and Clark Expedition.

These excavations of Cantonment Wilkinson indicate the importance that men like George Washington and Alexander Hamilton placed on our part of the country at the time when this lower Ohio River Valley was on the fringes of the frontier.

After the camp was abandoned, a group of Cherokee moved into the deserted cabins and stayed there until 1808 I think it was. (Did they come from Tennesee? Why did they come? Why did they leave?) According to Wagner, this was the only established Cherokee camp in our region. Soon the cabins were gone. It is possible that boats on the Ohio River pulled over and helped themselves to the lumber and hauled it on down the river to sell. The pits where refuse was burned were gradually filled in and soil and grass covered them over. The land was farmed and all surface traces of Cantonment Wilkinson ceased to exist. Beneath the earth, however, the story of the camp still existed waiting for discovery.

South Padre Sunday and Crab Orchard Sunday

Just a week ago, Gerald and I had Brian and Mary Ellen drop us off at Island Baptist Church as they left South Padre in their rented car to return to Houston airport and catch their plane to St. Louis. (A long car trip with two children in the back seat was ahead of them.)

We enjoyed an excellent Sunday School teacher in a class of "Winter Texans." Everyone was so friendly, and the upcoming activities so attractive that I found myself temporarily wanting to become a "winter Texas" as opposed to a "weekend Texan."

The best was yet to be when we went into the crowded auditorium filled to capacity with chairs set up in the aisles. (They have a building program going to to relocate to a larger place to hold people who want to attend the services. It was announced that today the congregation would change to three services to hold the influx of "winter Texans." There will be two traditional services and one service more contemporary as the one we attended last week was. The pastor invited folk to come to all three if they wished but admitted he would preach the same sermon at all of them.)

A friendly soul shook our hand as we entered and said, "I'm Bill." And we soon discovered he was the pastor. The music was great, and Bill's sermon has stayed with us all week inspiring and encouraging us to put first things first as Mary did when she sat at Jesus' feet rather than attending to "duties." I could easily imagine what Bill meant when he said he found he was often in the Martha-mode when he took his pastoral and counselling duties too seriously and forgot to sit at Jesus' feet first and then fill his left-over time with those duties.

We walked back to our hotel with balmy breezes as we started out making the temperature just perfect. We stopped for lunch at a new KFC and some of the folk we had just met at the service smiled and spoke to us. The longer we walked after lunch, the more the breezes seemed to slow down. With the temperature in the 80s, we got warm before we finished our two-mile walk, but we enjoyed it. We reached the hotel to find family playing on the beach again. Wedding pictures were already available on the groom's laptop. That evening after great hamburgers at a local eatery with the wedding party, we gathered in the lounge to view the photos and eat left-over wedding cake. Some went to Wal-Mart and brought us all a disk of the photos.

Although yesterday was spring-like, today I woke up here in Southern Illinois with a heavy wind catching the screen on the top of the swing on our deck. I went out quickly in pajamas and changed the screen the opposite way fearing the swing might crash into the house. It was really quite warm for January at 69 degrees this afternoon, but the wind was strong all day whipping our flag and this afternoon messing up hair anytime we were out of the car on the way to the Genealogical Society of Southern Illinois where we went to hear about the excavation of Camp Wilkerson in Massac County.

Brian, Trent, and Brianna had showed up at the farm yesterday afternoon as Brian said it was too pretty to stay in the city. (Mary Ellen had to stay at home.) While his parents were in town working on their house, Samuel was supposed to take a nap here because of having spent Friday night with his friend Josh and consequently getting less than a full-night's sleep. He was in rest mode when his cousins arrived, but then there were things he would rather do than nap. The kids played hard till l0 p.m. By 11 except for David who was still at work, I think everyone was mostly through the bed switching and finally settling down. Poor Brian ended up with two kids in bed with him tho they started in other places.

He and Gerald got up early to go have breakfast in town with brother Kenny--something Brian enjoys. He took stuff up to their camper (closed down for the winter months) and checked out his farm while he was here, and he and Gerald looked at last year's records and made plans for next year. The Cedars slept a litle later this morning, but Samuel was up with the cousins since he knew they'd soon be leaving for Lake Saint Louis.

Gerald and I headed off to Sunday School in our village church, where the 35 in Sunday School were joined by a few more in morning worship. Unlike Island Baptist, we had plenty of extra seating. Our pastor, Sam, preached on Nehemiah, which he thought was going to be appropriate January Bible study for our congregation since we are contemplating building a new fellowship hall sometime in the future. We need extra space on the ground floor where we can gather for the frequent dinners and fellowship times we enjoy without having to worry about people climbing stairs or being bothered by allergens in the basement. We decided sometime ago, we would rather use money on a new hall than to install an elevator or lift of some kind.

Living in a rural area where the coal mines closed down, we have gradually lost a good many members who had to move from the area. Others from the city have moved into our area, and sometimes we succeed in convincing them that we want them to worship with us. A touching part of today's service was a heartfelt goodbye on the part of a young family who joined us last spring. Thanking us for our love and prayers and asking the prayers to continue as they move on as the husband's job requires, the wife did not realize how thankful we were that they sought our services out and joined in helping in Vacation Bible School, choir, Sunday School, and countless other ways of participation. Because we are a small community with a small congregation, we love fresh new faces and learning new life stories and enjoying delightful new children in our midst.

There were similarities and differences between services in a crowded church and worship in a small church such as Center in Crab Orchard, where everyone knows most everyone and we all feel the other person's children and grandchildren are almost ours as well. Both kinds of churches have their advantages and disadvantages, but fortunately both kinds have access to the throne of the Creator.

After the Wedding

Returning to the winds of the St. Louis airport after the warmth of South Padre Island in Texas woke us all up to "the real world" as Erin put it. She really should not talk since she will soon be leaving to go with softball friends to visit in California and enjoy the beach again there. I hope she soaks up sufficient sun to keep her warm when she heads back to snowy South Bend and Notre Dame and the hard work awaiting her there.

Four days of travel, relaxation, visiting, eating, shopping, and getting acquainted with the groom's family during wedding festivities had certainly given us a break from our real world. We'd stepped off the plane at the airport to see lots of green grass, palm trees, bright red bougainvillea, yellow hibiscus, mesquite, cacti, blooming petunia plantings, and no need for the coats we wear here in Southern Illinois. There were beautiful lights all up the driveway between the palm trees and more Christmas decorations inside the LaCopa, where we stayed, but the decorations had a Spanish look. Our ears often heard the Spanish language spoken in the shops and restaurants as well in our hotel. Gerry got to come over a couple of days from his lodge in Mexico to join in although he could not stay as long as he wanted since this is his busiest season.

Weddings make us stop and think and reminisce about the past and look forward to the future and somehow temporarily transport us to another way of seeing life. A beautiful ceremony by the ocean was especially moving as we contemplated the waves and the waters stretching out forever, the youngsters playing on the sand, the white gulls and the colorful kites overhead, and of course the momentous changes that come not only to the bridal couple but to their families as they abruptly cut off things as they were and change to the way things have become. Watching three sisters (Tara's two and Bryan's sister Beth)with dark tresses and red dresses looking gorgeous while supporting Tara in this life-changing ceremony, we older ones remembered how it feels to see a daughter or son leave the home nest with its frequent contact, communication, and fellowship with siblings and then move on to new and better things.

We hung around for photos after the ceremony and watched the bride and groom frolic in the ocean before the whole group headed off for dinner and wedding cake. This was also the fourteenth anniversary of Mary Ellen and Brian's New Year's Eve wedding on Music Row,and we insisted on an anniversary picture under the arch. I hope Trent and Brianna enjoyed seeing their parents kiss under their cousin's wedding arch as much as we did when we finished singing "Happy Anniversary" to them. Mary Ellen had been Tara's first baby sitter the summer Tara was born, and Tara paid her back by being Trent and Brianna's nanny summer before last.

When Erin fixed hair for the bride and her maids in the hotel room, as she no doubt has done so many times at home, there were lots of giggles and inside jokes and wisecracks. There were also a few tears when something of the grandfather who is no longer with her was passed on to Tara. I remember the April that Tara was born and how that grandfather stopped every day after work at Gerry and Vickie's trailer to see their new baby. It is odd how close the past seems during a wedding week. The other grandmother and I both thought of Tara's parents' courtship and wedding--and sometimes the past seems more real than the present. Tara should still be making Gerald stop at McDonald's two and three times during a truck trip. Erin should be the little mischievious tyke who cut her hair and screamed when we brushed it--and not the lovely glamourous young lady with hair up with scarlet ribbon. Little sister Geri Ann (almost 12) should not be looking like a shorter 16-year-old version of Erin. After making the past so close, weddings also make us admit that yesterday has evolved into the present and there those children and grandchildren stand by the wedding arch: all grown up and beautiful and anticipating the future in the real world.

Kestner Wallace: A Dollar the Hard Way

For many years I've read articles by Kestner Wallace about his life near Womble Mountain in Saline County, but I had never met him. I was delighted when his son Ray and he showed up at the group book signing at Cata's on December 17 and I had a chance to buy his book A Dollar the Hard Way: Growing Up in Tough Times in the Ozark Foothills.

As a surprise for his 85th birthday, his son Ray and his daughter LeAnn Wallace had published a collection of his stories in a beautiful hardbound book with a beautiful book cover. The book is dedicated to his beloved wife of 55 years--Evelyn. The truth is most of the people who come into Wallace's life become loved by him, and it is a worthwhile to read his shrewd observations on human nature.


This World War II veteran had lost his father at an early age, and he had assumed responsibilities early on that were daunting. Whether he is off to Michigan to get employment to help the family, hitchhiking to high school to get an education, or going fishing to have a good time, Wallace has a way of attracting interesting episodes with interesting people that he can share. Despite the family and the nation's poverty during the 1930s, Wallace, who begins teaching school with only a high school education, goes on to SIU where he completes not just a college education but advanced degrees even as he continues his career as an educator for for 42 years.

He and his son Ray lives on the land that has been in the family for five generations. His daughter LeAnn lives in Raleigh, North Carolina.

Lewis and Clark Two Hundred Years Later

Probably everyone has experienced walking up to two women excitedly talking about someone else's lives and listening in trying to get oriented and figure out if you know these people who have such dramatic happenings going on. Then you find out the two women are talking about the latest development in their soap opera.

At our house right now, we must constantly realize that no matter the topic, when Gerald joins in the conversation with an appropriate anecdote or observation that he is talking about William Clark and Meriwether Lewis. He is so into their adventures two hundred years ago that he is making the men very real to all of us.

He is fascinated that these scholarly men--truly brilliant men--spell words several different ways in one paragraph. So he likes to share their spelling with us too. He is amazed at their medical practices, which the rest of us don't always feel make the best meal-time subject matter. But most of all, he is impressed with the the hugeness of their accomplishment going into uncharted land and finally reaching the Pacific Ocean despite illness, accidents, hardships unimaginable today, and extreme dangers.

They were accompanied on their trip by Sacajawea (also spelled Sacagawea and Sakakawea by some people and probably other ways). It can hardly be considered anything less than providential that she was along. She had been kidnapped from her Shoshoni tribe by the Minnetaree Indians on the Great Plains. A French-Canadian trader named Toussaint Charbonneau, who lived among the Minnetaree, bought her as a wife when she was 13. Lewis and Clark recruited them for the expedition and their son Jean Baptistte or "Pomp" was born on the journey. It was from the Shoshoni Indians that Lewis and Clark knew they must obtain horses when they left the rivers behind and had to cross the Great Divide. Amazingly when they met up with the Shoshoni, Sacajawea recognized the chief as her lost lost brother. They got the horses. Her parents were dead and so was her sister, but she was able to immediately adopt her sister's son. Clark much later took in Sacajawea's son to live with him in Saint Louis so Pomp could obtain an education. What a story!!!!

Although they were only here through lunch yesterday, our son-in-law Rick and our granddaughter Leslie got to hear quite a bit about Lewis and Clark the same as the rest of us. Rick had gotten out of bed early despite the few hours' sleep and taken the van to be checked out. As he thought, it was just a mis-cueing warning light and not a problem, so he felt comfortable for them to continue their journey to Nashville. While I fixed lunch, Gerald took Les and Samuel up to see their cousins Erin and Geri Ann yesterday morning, so that was neat. Erin got another of Leslie's songs recorded to share with roommates back on campus.

I'd managed to take the children's presents and hide them at their Freeport home, but we hadn't gotten Jeannie's and Rick's presents to them yet. So Rick brought in presents for us and took theirs. One gift he carried in was a huge wrapped box that turned out to be Cecelie's handcrafted martin house project. With the help of her mother, I am sure, Cecelie had done quite an astounding research job, excellent paper and beautiful poster plus made the model of a multicompartment martin house--all for a first grade project. Gerald and I also got a clay-like molded bird made by Cecelie also--mine was a yellow finch and his was a blue-black purple martin. My living room coffee table is now decorated with a rather large cardboard accessory, and Jeannie's problem of what to do with the painstaking martin house creation is solved!

December 26th--A Great Holiday

Always I have loved the time between Christmas and New Year's Day. My responsibilities as a housewife are over. Gift getting and wrapping are behind me, dinner has been served, and at least by New Year's the extra dishes are all put away--even if all of them aren't yet today. Yet the Christmas trees are still glowing and I leave them up to New Year's Day at least. (One year when it snowed during break and the children couldn't go back to school, I left the tree up through Old Christmas and the twelth day of Christmas. This week cards will still be coming in from friends and loved ones. I usually have time to look through and enjoy the ones already here. Because there are leftovers to eat for awhile, cooking time is reduced. It is a lovely mellow time of the year where it is proper to give oneself a rest and a true holiday from working. December 26 is a lovely holiday indeed.

Gerald and I spent the morning drinking coffee together, talking, and each reading on our current book. Not only has he been reading the daily account of Lewis and Clark in the Southern Illinoisan, he has also been reading the journal of Lewis and Clark that we bought at the gift shop two springs ago when we took a carload of grandkids to see the movie at the theater at the Arch in St. Louis. I have been reading Kestner Wallace's book and finished it this evening before I fixed us all a bite of supper.

Christmas morning was the first morning in 49 years that Gerald and I woke up alone in a house without a single child or grandchild present. The Eilers were waking up in Freeport since they come every other Christmas, and they were here along with the rest of the families on Thanksgiving. Then there were heading to Naperville yesterday afternoon for celebration with Rick's mother. The Taylors were in Florida with Brian's mother, who has just moved there from the New York area. This was their first Christmas not here, but they don't usually get to come on Thanksgiving, so it all worked out well.

The two local families are usually only here for the dinner and gift opening and visiting, and that was true this year also. On Christmas Eve, after the Cedars had gone to David's family for their Christmas get-together, they then went in the rain to their house--still in process of being remodeled--and slept on the floor just so Samuel could wake up on Christmas morning in his own home again. It has been hard on Samuel, since his parents were originally told by the contractor that they'be be back home in September soon after school started. Then they were told they could move back in by Thanksgiving. They have spent the month of December working much too hard--doing themselves what had never gotten done. Yesterday morning after they had their family time together opening the few presents they had at their house, they came back to Woodsong before noon and welcomed the beds here last night. Samuel was very pleased with their celebration. I think Samuel finally has some hope that someday he will be back home in his own room again. Today friends off work poured into their house to help David, and they are working yet tonight.

Gerry had come in from Mexico on Friday and Vickie met him in St. Louis and took him back there this morning to catch his plane to the border and back to the lodge and his hunting business. It is always good to see him after he's been away although he is always cold in our climate after Mexico and he will be distracted by what may be going on while he is away. Erin was still chilled out from her new cold and snowy environment at Notre Dame. When Gerald took Samuel and Geri Ann on the mule for a ride in the little wagon around the lake in the chilly air, Erin declined to leave our cozy house. Jeannie had dreaded the Northern climate for her knowing how she felt the year they moved to Freeport and the snow started before the Halloween parade and their first winter there was colder than any year since. It was strange not having Tara here on Christmas Day. But appropriately she and fiance Bryan were in Chicago area with his family. So with only nine at our dinner table, we were able to all sit at one table, and the dishes were fewer.

Rick just phoned from Naperville with their change of plans. He and Leslie are going to check out Belmont College in Nashville, and they were scheduled to be here on Thursday only to find out that was also the day we were leaving for Brownsville, Texas, for Tara's wedding. But the Cedars would welcome them here, and I had the upstairs guest room ready for them. However, with a little light flashing on the new van, which is driving fine, Rick decided he would like to have it checked out in Marion tomorrow morning. Therefore, I will be leaving the porch light on and the door unlocked for two tired travelers arriving around 3 in the morning. I am pleased that I am going to get to see them on this trip through here after all.

Enjoying the Lights and Attending Programs

Gerald has the outside lights up--something we never did over at the other farm house--and we enjoy the beauty of them as we come up our lane. I've done all the decorating inside that I plan to do. And with the attack of sciatica, I decided to not do anymore Christmas shopping. One minute I am fine, and the next I am in pain, so I don't get too excited thinking about running around stores. I had bought some gifts last summer, and I've wrapped them--even taken some to the houses of the two daughters who can't come to Woodsong this Christmas. Gerald kindly chose the men in the family their gifts--including the one I am giving him. That was a tremendous help.

I meant to bake cookies early in the month for the "Cookie Crumble"--an annual affair where churches take homemade cookies for international students at SIUC. I was disappointed when I was not up to it, but was relieved when our church's representative said there was more than enough without my contribution. I did manage to bake some brownies and one batch of cookies to take some goodies for the trays we take to our church shut-ins when we go carrolling. That was a fun event with a couple of youth going with us to especially please the ones we visited.

Next there was our church's Sunday afternoon youth Christmas program, an evening musical with Katherine and Samuel at their church, and then Samuel's third grade Christmas musical.

Last Sunday morning, I sang in our adult cantata and then again that evening when we presented it at the Carrier Mills Nursing Home. We went to that home this year because one of our dear and long-time members recently went there to live. Her husband is with her every day, and we wanted to give the concert there in her honor and to show support for his bravery. She was wheeled down and looked dignified as always soberly listening to us, but she didn't know us. We hope the hugs from those of us who have loved and admired her for so many years benefited her in some subtle way. It benefited us to know we did this for her. She not only served as a teacher in our church but served as an outstanding teacher at a nearby university as well as traveling all over the nation teaching servicemen. One of our teens laughingly recalled that she always called him prescious in those years she taught him in Sunday School before her illness made it impossible to continue. A large crowd of her fellow residents were there in the attractive hall with her, and it was a pleasure to see their smiles and enjoyment. We were given applause after every song and a multitude of compliments at the program's end. They joined in with great participation when our pastor led us in congregational singing of "Silent Night" and "Joy to the World." When we finished, we were urged to come back again soon. Their graciousness and enthusiasm was a wonderful gift from them to us.

Finally yesterday Gerald and I traveled to Lake Saint Louis for the purpose of seeing Brianna's fifth grade musical and Trent's junior high fall band concert. Trent's concert had been snowed out last Thursday, and we were disconcerted when it was rescheduled the same night at his sister's musical. But Bree figured out that if we got there at ten in the morning to see the fifth grade's presentation to the younger students at Green Tree Elementary School, then we could all attend Trent's concert that night. It was a push to get there that early, but we would have made it.

Except Mary Ellen phoned that she had no sooner delivered both Trent to junior high yesterday morning than the school phoned that he was sick. Although Brianna had been ill over the weekend, Mary Ellen was hoping he wasn't that sick, but of course he would not be allowed to be in the concert that night since he was not at school that day. So she told us that we could slow down and go straight to their house and only have one program to see in Lake Saint Louis. Contrary to her expectations, Trent was even more ill than Bree had been over the weekend, so we felt very sorry for him. Bree's fifth grade musical was called "Lighten Up!" and was a tribute to humor. We heard a lot of jokes and saw some cute song skits, and enjoyed how pretty our blonde granddaugher was. And again we did some group singing that made it seem a lot like Christmas.

Today Gerald and Mary Ellen took me to a nearby mall so I could shop for an outfit for the upcoming wedding of our oldest grandchild on New Year's Eve. Stopping for groceries on the way home, it was late afternoon by the time we got back to farm and turned on the Christmas tree lights.

Snow, Sciatica, and Crab Orchard Open Houses

Plans fall by the wayside when snow makes our country roads slick and dangerous. I had to cancel lunch plans with Deb Tucker when Gerald phoned from Route 13 telling me about the cars off the highway there between Murphy and Carbondale. We just try to stay home as much as possible. That isn't hard to do for me right now since my sciatic nerve has been attacking me ever since the day after Thanksgiving. I am getting better, but I do a lot of moaning. When I move just wrong or stand up, I do some breath taking and sometimes screeching. I never know when I stand up if I will have to walk bent over grabbing the furniture or if I will bounce along without a pain in the world. I finally got up my courage to get down on the floor and do some of the exercises on the sheet the doctor gave me. Our groceryman said it took his wife six months to get over a bout like this. I hope I am faster.

Since I have been afraid to make any kind of plans for book signings this month because of the sciatica, I thought I would at least take in the Crab Orchard Open Houses today. I couldn't get up my nerve to go to the morning concert at the Methodist Church for fear I would not be able to walk after I got there. After lunch with the family, it took me till almost time for the concert at the Baptist church at 2 to decide to attempt the fun outing. I was glad I went when I heard Jeff Beasley and daughter Krista singing the Christmas songs. Jeff's "White Christmas" is more beautiful than Bing's. I finally met Rosalee Mocaby Fields, who sang and played the piano so beautifully for us, and it was fun singing carols with neighbors and friends.

The big reason I wanted to go to the open houses was to see the Poordo Store. When we first moved to Crab Orchard, our youngest two daughters were invited to a birthday party there as the birthday girl's family lived in the living quarters behind the store. The store has been closed a long time now, and Bill Jones has built a beautiful house beside it. An huge old-fashioned cedar Christmas tree was set up inside the front door. A group was sitting in a circle enjoying the talk and coffee and hot cranberry tea when I got there and they were still talking when I left--just like the olden days. All kinds of refreshments were served as well as goodies and crafts displayed for sale to benefit the community. I brought home some home-made candies and peanut brittle. On the wall were framed clippings of newspaper accounts of the history of Atilla--now called Poordo--and wonderful ancient photographs of the Welborn family and their two-story house that burned in the 1940s. (It sat where Bill Mandrell's house does now.) Bill Jones' mother Pearl Jones was the Welborn's daughter if I got that family history understood right.

I managed to squeeze in a visit to Larry and Kay Woodson's lovely lakeside home filled with family furniture and memories. I enjoyed thinking of our late friends Bill and Altha Brown while there. By then it was almost 4 p.m., when the events were to shut down. So I hurried to Gary and Faye Ellen Chamness's newly remodeled home that I am been eager to visit all summer as the porch is so inviting--even more so with all the lovely Christmas trim. Everything was beautiful, and the living room tree gorgeous, and the tall rustic cedar tree in the back sun room brought back memories of our trees in Jonesboro that Daddy always cut from the farm at Goreville.

Although there wasn't time to visit the library, the business open houses, the quilt show at the Methodist church, or to see the Montgomery log house I've always wanted to see, I had a good time, enjoyed visiting with other Crab Orchard folk, and went home in the Christmas spirit to turn on our lights on our trees and sit and look at today's Christmas cards.

The snow is too dry for snowmen making, but somehow Geri Ann and Gerald found wet snow on our picnic table on the deck and made a snowman there yesterday while she was out of school. It wasn't fair that Samuel had to go to school yesterday when Marion schools were in session and everyone else in the county were dismissed. But at least he got in on the sled riding with Gpa after Gerald and Geri Ann picked him up from school. Today Sam figured out that he too could use the deck snow, which for some reason was wetter, and now we have his snow man also atop the picnic table.

The Crab Orchard School Christmas program had to be cancelled with Thursday's snow, so I understand it was tonight instead. Bet that played havoc with the families that had tickets to the SIUC name tonight.

Our church children's program is tomorrow afternoon at 2 at Center. Neither snow nor sciatica stops the approaching Christmas. I better find time for cards and finishing my shopping soon.

Christmas at Jo's

For the women in Center Baptist Church, going to Jo's for our December meeting and annual Christmas party is part of our life's tradition. We know we will be greeted by luminaries in the yard as we get out of our cars as well as other outside lights. Inside will be old and new decorations--two gingerbread dolls were new this year--one from a niece and one Jo bought at the first Extension Bazaar recently.

I especially cherish getting to see the annual display of tiny ice skaters from Jo's childhood. Each year they skate on a mirror on a table in the living room. After we have sung from song sheets that are so old no one knows who typed typed them, we will hear a devotion and poem or two and have a business meeting before we move into the family room to enjoy the fireplace and beautiful Christmas tree there. In that room those who have drawn secret sisters will try to guess who they are before gifts are opened to reveal the sister. Last but not least, there will be excellent food because Jo Barger is one of the top cooks and most knowledgable persons about foods in the Midwest. We will move to the game room and find the pool table transformed into a large serving table filled with pretty and delectable choices. Most of us have a hard time choosing between the lime sherbert punch served in Santa Claus cups or the hot cranberry tea, and some of us indulge in both. Doing things mostly the same way from year to year has a certain comforting quality that makes such annual events special enough to bring back former members as well as new. Jo might decide to use a different punch some year, but I hope she doesn't!

Among the new ones attending this year were the two babies born to our church members this year. I know it was an effort for the young moms to bring the babies out, but we had lived and prayed through the two pregnancies with the mothers and we were thrilled to have Bobby Jo and Toby with us in their Christmas finery.

Getting back to our traditional song sheets with the words of carols and popular Christmas songs alike: I can always imagine some harried housewife or perhaps it was a working secretary already putting in a 40 hour week someplace laboriously typing the master copy for the memographed sheets. And then, she used green or red construction backs to staple the sheets on. Thus, they were sturdy and attractive. I wonder when she (or perhaps a committee) did the sheets if she wondered if this job had gotten out of control and she really shouldn't be putting that much time and effort into something for folks outside her own home. At this time of year, many women get trapped in those kinds of extra activities, and they sometimes find their pleasure spoiled by wondering if they should be involved at all. I am assuming whoever typed our song sheets not only must have moved from our community years ago but perhaps has already died. I am so grateful to that person. With the ease of computer typing, we could make new song sheets with half the effort--and someday we may have to--but I would never enjoy singing from the new ones as much as I have enjoyed using the old ones. I am grateful to that unknown woman who put herself out to make them. I think of her as I sing, and I wish I could tell her that her effort is still appreciated.

Christmas Is Coming--Ready or Not

Gerald came home from our friend "Bun" Handkins' house the other day and informed me that "Bun" has his candy all ready to offer the carrollers from our church when we make our annual call to his home to share carols and prayer with him. When his Rose was first shut-in, we began going there usually first on our carrolling night, and they always insisted we come inside and have a piece of scrumptious candy. For a few years now, it has just been "Bun" to sing to, but he does not forget our candy. He is 93 and very alert still going to town most days as well as keeping check on Gerald's crops and ducks. Gerald could not keep from boasting, of course, that he had already had the first piece of candy during his visit with "Bun." I still have the candy canes that Noami Richey gave us carrollers and place them on our tree each year in remembrance of her. Funny how much a piece of candy can mean to you when it is from someone you love.

There is a wreath on our front door and a few decorations set out. I meant to ask Gerald to get down the heavy box from top closet shelf tonight but forgot. Mary Ellen's manger scene (a gift from her one year) is set up. The tiny set from our children's babyhood is waiting for me to set it up on the floor by the piano in the living room--although most of our grandkids are getting too old to play with it anymore. (Actually the original set came into our marriage with me as I had bought it for my college dorm room for the Johnson Hall Christmas open house. So the original set is well over 50 years old.) When some of the little hollow plastic figures broke after years of handling, I replaced them with the same size chalk figures I found at a rummage sale someplace.

I am enjoying the lights going up around the community and feeling sorry for the homeowners who fight the blown-down balloon-type decorations each morning that I see when I drive Samuel into town to his school.

I am trying to decide what to do and what not to do during this season of celebration. I've written an annual letter for many years and always enjoy it. But I had been thinking that since I am moving slowly this week with the first bout of sciatica I've ever had that maybe I should not do so this year. Then today I got the sweetest email from a young cousin-in-law telling me she loved to read it when she was a little girl at home. Hmmm. Do I really want to drop that tradition? I started it when cards and letters were the main adult part of the season for me since I really couldn't afford to give expensive gifts. When Gerald got embarrassed after all the critical letters that appear in Dear Abby/Ann type columns each year, I dropped his name from the letters. But by then, I could not stop writing the annual letter because I received so many nice notes from older friends and relatives saying they cherished getting them. So I decided that if those types who hate the letters and consider them brag-sheets weren't smart enough to throw them away without reading them, I would just have to let them suffer. I was not going to disappoint those people like me who really love knowing what long- ago friends and far-off relatives are doing. I even like reading my adult children's annual letters as it helps me review their past years. Just as writing my letter helps me review our year.