Working to Beautify Buildings and Gardens

Dropping by the Little Egypt Arts Association yesterday on the Marion Square, I was not surprised to find Neal and Patty Morrison hard at work with the exciting remodeling going on there. LEAA is revamping their building's upstairs after decades of not being in use, and they are uncovering history at the same time. Marion residents remember the downstairs as the home of Albrights, where we could find nice men’s shirts and ties for Christmas presents. Not many remember ever being upstairs.

Volunteer electricians, plumbers, painters, the Morrisons and others are in the midst of making this fine building, donated by the Powell family, a fitting home for the visual and performing arts. Located in a prime location close to the Civic Center, LEAA is giving our area something to look forward to with pride.

Gay blocks of multicolored tile greet you as you enter the first upstairs room from the new second staircase, which was required by fire and safety codes. (The old staircase on the opposite end of the building enters from the street from the days when doctors and others used the upstairs as their office quarters.) Last week the Morrisons carefully laid the donated blocks to create the most attractive pattern possible. Patty also said they had learned to “mud” to cover up flaws and problems with the ancient walls. The result looks good. A center upstairs room with lesser amounts of light is planned for quilters and watercolorists, which will help protect their work.

Much thought and effort is being exerted in making this major expansion of LEAA headquarters into an even greater valuable addition to the Marion Square. The children who take art classes and those of us who love to view the beautiful paintings in the downstairs gallery have always appreciated LEAA. Now we will be enjoying the improvements made by all this donated labor for years to come. Working in the l00-year-old accumulation of dirt and grime is not easy nor pleasant work, but the results are pleasant.

Continuing to Katherine’s house, I relished seeing the beautiful tall healthy lilies blooming brightly around their front lawn lamppost. In their backyard, I see my mother’s lilies that Katherine dug up at Pondside Farm before we left there. Out her bedroom window is the only remaining lilac bush that survived of the eight small plants she dug from beneath the old bush we loved so. This lilac bush too is healthy and growing taller each year, and Katherine hopes it will bloom next spring. Maybe I will get a start from it. She had dug the lilacs up from hard baked earth in hot July sun five years ago, when no one with MS should have been outside--let alone digging up plants.

She had also transplanted some of the lily of the valley plants that lined our walk at Pondside Farm, They were given to us by our late friend Helen Lee, the mother of Katherine’s friend Karen who died at 18 in a tragic car accident going to work in Harrisburg. Unless there is a plant or two left in her far-back shade garden, which we didn’t check yesterday, these plants did not make it through last year’s remodeling construction. These flowers were against the park fence and not in the path of the construction, yet the plants and the protective brick around them oddly disappeared during the late fall when the family had to be out of their house.

Yesterday morning Katherine had noticed two young men with weed eaters working at her next-door neighbors, and she wheeled out to ask them if they’d use their weed eaters for a quick front lawn task she needed done. She quickly wheeled back in to get her check book thinking whatever they charged would be worth it and came back with the check partially written out. The young men would have none of the check. She laughingly said she planned to tell her husband that she had weed eated yesterday morning and see his reaction. All of us are profiting from the beauty she created with much effort and pain before her chair became a full-time necessity.

Generous volunteers and good-hearted workers creating beauty make life richer and worth living.

Duckling Disasters and Foul Fowls

What a difference a day makes. One day we were happy and confident in this year’s duckling population. The next day things changed.

We woke up last Thursday in a hurry to take off for Green Tree Elementary School at Lake Saint Louis, where Gerald was to be an honored guest at the fifth graders’ luncheon. This event climaxes the biography project, and the students present the honorees with spiral-bound books of their life stories.

As we both frequently do, I started my day by looking out our bedroom window. Gerald likes to see the large carp feeding in the lake early in the morning. I always hope to catch a glimpse of the multi-colored ducks with their amazing and beautiful feather patterns. That morning I was wondering if any baby ducks might have hatched overnight in the nest below our window. Sure enough looking down, I could see movement of baby ducks and felt excitement at their birth. Then to my horror, I looked up and several feet away in a weird position the mother duck was lying motionless. I ran calling Gerald, who always gets up hours before I do. He hadn’t looked out the window that morning. We ran outside to find the mother duck was headless--we blame an owl. Gerald gathered up the eight ducklings (altho he could not get the little wiggly things counted right then) and he took them to a warm overhead light in a pen in his shop, gave them water, and starter mash. He had not planned to mother any of our ducklings this year; he was going to let nature take its course under the mother ducks’ watch. However, there was already one duckling there under the light in the little pen.

Why? Well, we’d been bragging on the first mama duck who had hatched her eggs this season. For several days, she had been keeping all eight ducklings alive. Even the afternoon before, we had looked out and enjoyed seeing the mama duck walking across the lawn. Only five babies were left to follow her, but that is better than most of our mother ducks have done, so that was good enough to make us happy. And they were so cute. We noticed a couple of drakes nearby.

It had started sprinkling, and we were leaving the farm to go look at plant nurseries for some flowers to put in the new rock garden Gerald is creating beside his shop. As we passed where the ducks had been in the lawn, there were the five little ones huddled together and no older ones around. Gerald was upset, but I wasn’t. In my heart, I was confident that mother was probably close by in the shrubbery or someplace. I could not imagine her deserting those tiny fluffy little ones.

When we got back home, one baby duckling was alone on our patio. Gerald caught it and cuddled it and rode all over looking for the mother and the others thinking it may just have gotten separated from the gang. Not only did he not find the deserting mother and the four other ducklings, neither was there any sight or sign of the second mother duck who had hatched about the same number of little ones.

So we left for Lake Saint Louis with heavy hearts altho our friend Scott and little Katie were to look out for the ducklings in the shop while we were away. They did a good job, and we had eight ducklings under the light when we checked on them Saturday night.

Sunday morning I started that day by hurrying out the front door to check the setting duck under the azalea bush. I stopped abruptly. Our front sidewalk was covered with droppings. And our front porch. Not a pretty sight. I had been so amazed that with all these ducks around, our patio and front porch and sidewalk remained clean. Our experience with the geese years ago at the other farm house had not been so pleasant. I found it odd that after four years we suddenly had this problem. But I got a bucket of water, soap, and a broom and cleaned the area. (What I did not know was that Gerald, who had gone downstairs when he got up, had seen the same thing all over our walk-out lakeside patio. He cleaned that with a hose later in the day.)

Not too much later, I looked out the front door again and there on the sidewalk were the two parent geese and their seven children, who are now quite gawky and amazingly large. When I started out the door, the nine geese ran off and oddly have not been back on the sidewalk or patio since. I guess our being away lured them up to our quarters to investigate. Although the ducks are all over our yard, usually the geese have kept their distance at the edge of the lawn down by the lake.

So now I know one important difference in ducks and geese: ducks have better potty habits. When we walked around the lake the next day, I loved seeing the two adult geese guiding their seven goslings off the island and into the water. I just hope these geese continue to know their place!

Spring Green and Other Delights

A quail is whistling, “Bob White,“ as I walk to the mail box. The killdeer are screaming fiercely for my attention as they fly up and away from the gravel in our lane. They really don’t need to fuss and try to fool me like that. I will not likely find their eggs in the gravel at the edge of the roadbed even though I will look for the nest. I did see one nest last year. The eggs were in plain view, but still were almost invisible lying there camouflaged with the gravel around them.

Everything is lush and so brightly green that it is almost overwhelming after winter’s duller colors. The lavender iris that Scott and Sonje gave us from a family farm up north are blooming profusely, and I saw one yellow bud on the day lilies beside the house. Gerald’s garden is up and growing.

We found out that the “bachelor goose” that was honking so incessantly was indeed guarding a nest and not a bachelor after all. Gerald and I were riding the “mule” around the lake and saw a head sticking up in one of the floating nests he had made a couple of summers ago. He had earlier seen a duck nest there that evidently the predators had reached. Yesterday he pedaled out in the pedal boat and saw the nesting goose there on her eggs.

We have had two nests of ducklings hatched. The first mama had eight babies, and so far she has kept them alive, which is very different than our previous experience. Gerald thinks maturity has somehow taught this second-time mom ways to be more wary. We haven’t seen the second set of baby ducks since the mother took them to water. There is yet another nest outside out bedroom window and one in the front lawn under an azalea bush.

The martins are peering out from the openings in their house, and we assume there are little ones inside. The hummingbirds are back from Mexico. The red-bellied woodpecker still comes to the deck for a treat of suet that Gerald has stuffed in holes he made in a beaver-log turned bird feeder.

Gerald went to the island and had to knock five ticks off his clothing when he left there. I have been wanting to go over, but that slowed my desire. He has mowed a wide swath all around the lake for walking, and so far I’ve not had any unwelcome visitors. Ticks are definitely not one of spring’s delights.

Two-Parent Family with Seven Goslings

Gerald and I looked up from the breakfast table this morning to see two adult geese marching with great dignity across our lawn with their seven babies parading behind. How those children are growing! The family were on their way to the gravel in our long driveway to get some rock for their craws, I think. Later they turned back to the lakeside and headed south and eventually went back to water. They can also be seen down the lane crossing the gravel to get to our neighbor's wheat field.

I did not see the family when I took a walk around the lake at twilight last night, but one lonely goose was talking at the top of his voice the entire time I approached that side of the lake. We keep wondering if he has a mate someplace with a nest, but if so, Gerald has not found it. He stayed in place until I was very close. I tried talking to him soothingly as I approached assuring him I would not hurt him. But he left anyway. Jumping in and swimming out into the lake, he kept honking noisily.

Remembering my brother Jim's story this weekend about our father having a problem with his sheep herd being attacked by dogs or other animals, I started singing to the goose. The goose did not respond to the song. Jim had recalled that Daddy could not get the sheep to come up to safety at night. One evening with his work done, he went out on to the porch in the cooler air to play his violin. Before he knew it, here came the sheep. His problem was solved. He played for them each evening and they came up to their pen.

Although my singing did not attract the swimming goose back to lakeside, the goose's vocalizing may have had a similar effect on his friends. As if the honker had called them in, here came two geese from the field across the road below us to fly low over the water toward the other end of the lake. I stood and watched in awe at their beauty, strength, and skill as they glided rapidly through the air over the lake which was reflecting the pink and lavender twilight clouds above. As I continued walking, the sky was darkening and, thus, the lake was also. The ducks were gathered on the small dock near the lawn seemingly ready to settle down for the night. I undid the arms of my jacket tied around my waist and put it on and headed for the house.

Sharing about Priscilla at Schingoethe Center for Native Americans

Fields of yellow mustard now brighten the Southern Illinois countryside. Most of our flowering spring trees are already green, but as I traveled up to the northern part of the state to Aurora, I was able to enjoy the flowering red bud, pear, dogwood, and other blooming trees all over again.

I left Woodsong on Saturday to go to Mattoon to visit my brother Jim and his wife Vivian. Finally I got to meet 17-month old Willow, my great grand niece. Her mother Leana (my great niece) and her grandmother Judi (my niece) were visiting with Jim and Vivian when I arrived. Just like I had been told, Willow is a live wire who was busy every minute exploring. I did not try to hold her because a success would have lasted only a few seconds. Instead I enjoyed receiving the magazines and other items she rushed around the room gathering and bringing to me and her great-grandparents. With blue eyes, light complexion, and lovely blond curls, her beautiful face would have made an exquisite doll. As the evening progressed, she did not slow down but her little face registered fatique, and I bet she was asleep in the car seat before her mother had her back home to Charleston.

On Sunday I met Dr. Darrell Latch at Arcola in front of his power lifting gym to ride the rest of the way to Aurora University where the Illinois Trail of Tears Association was meeting at the Schingoethe Center. A beautiful facility with artfully arranged displays in the museum, the small library, and auditorium, the curator Meg Bero has crated an exciting and colorful environment to help us appreciate native Americans.

I enjoyed sharing the story of Priscilla, the Hollyhock Girl, who was freed from slavery off the 1838 Trail of Tears in the southern part of the state. And I invited folks down to the annual Memorial Day weekend open house held at Silkwood Inn, where Priscilla lived, from l0 to 4 on Saturday and Sunday. Sponsored by the West Franklin Historical Society as well as the Mulkeytown Historical Society, the museum in the former Mulkeytown School will be open as well.

Arriving back in Mattoon to Jim and Vivian's, I was ready to relax over late-evening sandwiches and with late-night visiting. We finally went to bed a little after midnight and slept in very late Monday morning. More visiting over a late breakfast and an afternoon lunch at Sullivan, where Jim took me around the square so I could at least see the theater there that I have read so much about. Finally at five, I figured I better be on the road again to head home. Gerald and Gerry were also headed home from Louisville, KY, where they had gone back to see Erin and Notre Dame play a double header after the games were rained out on Sunday. We hoped to possibly meet at Mt. Vernon for supper, but I was enough ahead of them that we didn't try that rendevouz.

Not an Eagle but an Osprey

Having lunch with our son Gerry and his buddies at the Johnston City McDonalds, Gerald was telling Gerry about the eagle. Immediately Gerry said, "I bet it was an osprey."

Sure enough, Gerald came home and looked up osprey on the Internet and found out it is the only bird that hunts for fish in the way he saw this big hawk doing yesterday. The Internet article said that it is often confused with the bald eagle.

Son-in-law Brian dropped in late last night to copy some records for the a local government farm office before he headed off to Lake Saint Louis. He was feeling great with this crop all in before today's rains. He didn't arrive home until 1:30 this morning, but I'm sure he would tell you it was worth it.

An Eagle at Woodsong

When I came home to the farm yesterday evening, Gerald was excited and disappointed that I had missed the excitement. A neighbor had phoned him, and he went out on the deck and watched the first eagle anyone have ever seen on our lake. First, he said it dive-bombed out of a tree and into the water and under and came up empty-mouthed. Then as he continued to watch, the eagle fished again in identical fashion and this time came up with supper. Watching it huge wing span as it came out of the water was quite a thrill.

We've already been excited about our new baby geese, who are being supervised and guided with the utmost care by their two parents. There were seven eggs, which Gerald has been watching for some weeks, and there were seven goslings hatched. We hurried down to see them, and the parents were already taking them for a swim. One little fellow had bravely (fool-heartedly??) gone out and away from his family to two ducks quite a way off. Then he took off all by himself--barely out of the egg and he was able to swim the great distance without trouble. But his parents and their more submissive brood swam out to him, and I like to think he was relieved to be back in their care.

We have held our breaths because last year the one geese family that hatched took the babies away the next day--we think to more isolated neighbor's pond. We also were afraid that predators would capture one or more of the goslings as so often happens to our ducklings. However, they are old enough now that we feel they are staying and also likely to survive since they are less vulnerable everyday.

We have at least four duck nests still around the house. Some have been deserted, and one was broken into early on by some creature. One mama duck is exactly in the spot in the day lily bed where last spring we had a batch hatched out on Mother's Day. I suppose it is the same mama duck.

I kept noticing a middle-size black bird with brown head at our feeder, and I wondered what it was. Ben Gelman's column came out just in time to tell me: the brown-headed cowbirds are back in the area! I don't think I had ever seen one. And if they destroy other birds' eggs, they aren't as welcome as they would be otherwise.

Easter Joys

Everything is beautiful in Southern Illinois right now, and it is impossible not to rejoice at the loveliness. I have no idea what the earth looks like at this time of year in Jerusalem where Jesus rose again, but here in the southern end of our state, nature seems to be applauding his resurrection. Jeannie and three children arrived Good Friday morning a little after seven after a harrowing trip down from Freeport through rain storms and fog. After an hour or so of sleep before Cecelie tried to join her in her bedroom, she was up for the rest of the day. She loved seeing the spring season here that is ahead of the northern part of the state: the flowering trees and the lavish green abounding everywhere.

We enjoyed lots of grandchildren visits with kids coming and going. Some left to sleep over with local cousins and then back the next day for more adventures: dying eggs, making nests outside with the plants and field flowers, fishing, riding the "mule" and the Taylors' "gator," hiking at the lake, watching the ducks and martins, and spending a great deal of time on a new game the kids have made up. I don't really know what the rules are or what they call it, but every time they come lately, I see pieces of paper with clues left all over the house. I've been picking them up since the house emptied. Example: Clue 3 says, "Go to the place you will find a real, cool game that puzzles your mind." As I clean out the area downstairs that we call the "art room," I am always impressed at how much writing/drawing/reading/creating practice the kids have gotten as they enthusiastically play as hard as they can while they are together. They never seem to run out of ideas for play. (I almost forgot one weekend activity. On Friday afternoon while Gma Sue was keeping her hair appointment and then going for the pizza, Gpa was in charge. It was in the 80's and hot. He'd taken the kids to the island and other such doings when he later saw them near the water's edge. He didn't have the heart to make them get out of the water when they couldn't resist getting in--street clothes and all. Some kids were washing their clothes in the machine in the garage when I brought the pizza home. I guess starting the swimming season early wasn't too bad a thing.)

Add to the mix of grandkids. the Taylors' dog named Fifi and the Eilers' dog named Lucky, and there is a lot going on when our family gathers. Rick did not get to come down with Jeannie as he coaches tennis as well as teaching math at the high school, and he had a tennis match to attend on Saturday. Since he also cared for their dog Leah, who has just given birth to six Shit-zu puppies, the kids here were really disappointed he and those seven dogs did not come. Everyone had wanted to see these babies.

Special weekend highlights included celebrating Samuel's ninth birthday with cake, several of the kids going to the Easter egg hunt on the lawn at Center Church, Lige and Trent playing by the creek at Wayside where they had spent Friday night in the Taylor camper, the women and girl cousins attending the baby shower for their cousin Tara up at Gerry and Vickie's house, meeting their Taylor cousins' other grandmother--G'ma Dot here from Florida, listening to Leslie sing, and finally worshipping together on Easter Sunday at Center.

We met the three Notre Dame softball players that came home with Erin at the shower on Saturday afternoon, but with warnings of possible storms, they left right after early morning worship at West Frankfort. Although I would have loved for them to be here with the other 18 family members for Sunday dinner, after hearing about the Eiler family's travel through the storm, I was relieved they did not delay leaving for their long trip back to northern Indiana. They were playing at Northwestern today.

We finished Sunday evening watching old videos, so Bryan Archibald could see Tara at age ten pitching and batting in the Marion park with her arm in a cast. Brian Taylor arrived back to join us after delivering his mother--G'ma Dot--to the airport in Saint Louis. Finally whoever was still here had a late night meal of leftovers from dinner. (I am still serving leftovers to Gerald and putting some in the freezer.)

We now have two Brian/Bryans in the family, but at least their names are spelled differently. Brian Taylor had started farming up at Wayside on Friday, and he stayed over to work at the farm on Monday. The fields are disked, and the anhydrous is on.

Fish from the Ocean

Living as we do on a small lake, it may seem odd that neither Gerald nor I fish. He has a fishing rod, but I doubt if he has fished four times in the over four years we have lived here.

Over at Pondside Farm, it used to be an ambition of mine to learn to fish and to clean them, so that I could take the grandchildren fishing, let them help me clean them, and then fry them. But I never did that, and I have given up the ambition.

However, good friends and neighbors, Jay and Winnie Payne, not only bring us fish, but Jay cleans it ready for our freezer!! And on occasion, Winnie has even called and told us she is bringing us fish and fixings for our supper. Winnie is such a good cook that I wouldn't dare tell her not to, or I'd be in trouble.

I don't really think anyone can fry fish so it is not tasty, but I know it is not necessarily good for us. So for years I tried to bake fish according to recipes, and all I ever got for my efforts was a stinky kitchen and a not very good fish meal.

We went to visit friends Sonje and Scott and Katie recently when they got back home from visiting her parents in Florida. We enjoyed all the photos of the HUGE fish Scott and his father-in-law's party had caught. Scott presented us not only with oranges but also with a couple of packages of fish he'd caught in the ocean. I was excited at the prospect of cooking fish from way out there in the deep. Admittedly I can and have bought frozen fish at the store, but that did not seem the same as fixing fish that Scott had caught.

I got up my nerve to fix the snapper, and decided to bake it with lemon and butter as Scott said he sometimes does. With the fish thawed, I realized that I didn't have a lemon in the house, and on the farm you don't jump in your car and drive to the corner grocery.

But I had lemon juice which I mixed with melted butter and probably put some sort of spices in the mixture. I can't remember now what I did use exactly; I started to say cumin, but that was what I added to the soup last week the second night I heated it up and thought it had been a bit dull the night before.

Then having recently heard a TV cook advise using capers on fish, I added some capers. (I'd bought them probably a year ago for another recipe, which I misplaced before I used them. I do that more than I'd like myself to do.) I'd learned from the TV cook that capers were pickled flower buds--the dictionary says from a Mediterranean shrub. Although I can't say Gerald or I liked the cooking smell, the snapper was delicious, and we enjoyed knowing we were eating healthy.

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.