Once in a Blue Moon and Every Four Years

Thursday night as I traveled back to the farm from Katherine’s, the moon was near full and both bright and beautiful. I was somewhat surprised because it seemed as if we had only shortly before had a full moon, but time is passing so fast these days that I assumed it was a full thirty days since the last one. Even after a cloud passed in front of it, it shone through gorgeously luminous, and I allowed it to both light and lighten my trip home.

The next day I learned that Friday night was to be a blue moon—the writer explained that when we occasionally get two full moons in one month that is what a blue moon is. Someone else wrote that we would not have another until 2015. Friday night the rain clouds and the good gentle rain here at the farm kept me from seeing the orb again just as tonight’s rain is now doing, but it had been so beautiful that I am still seeing it in my mind. I feel unusually blessed that I had been allowed to enjoy it on Thursday night, because I needed that beauty.

We appreciate these rains, which while too late to help the corn crops, will help the later soybeans and will also help the ground be ready for next year. We are just sorry that others had to experience that terrible hurricane and flood damage for us to finally receive rain. I don’t know how people bear going home to flood destroyed homes—or out west to the fire destroyed homes. Certainly these brave ordinary people are heroes as they face starting over.

Gerald and I were at Katherine’s this evening when the television announcer was telling the people in nearby Carbondale to take shelter for a tornado. We were on the alert too until after 6 when things seemed to calm down, and as far as I know, no one had a tornado after all. But for the first time I ever remember, Carbondale fell victim to flash floods. Cars were flooded out and stalled, and the tow trucks were busy. We’ll find out in tomorrow morning’s newspaper how bad it was. Here although the rain continues, it is not harsh or in excess yet.

It is an unusual Labor Day weekend for us since we don’t have company. I thought Mike and Leslie might be coming up from Nashville, but then I found out that I had mis-remembered; it was Columbus Day weekend that they plan to be here. I think the Taylors are still coming down from central Illinois to their home here, but so far they have not arrived.

Gerry thought about coming if they did not have practice, but decided to stay home whether they did or didn’t. His clan was all at the football stadium today and saw Georgia win. Erin at University of North Texas and us Southern Illinois University fans were not so fortunate with our teams’ results. Marion High School played up at Mattoon last night (my brother’s town) and they not only won but Sam’s friend Josh, a sophomore, was put in for five minutes’ play again. Not being a football fan myself, I don’t really care who wins or who is playing whom, but hearing all the others’ football excitement heralds that fall is here. However, I am a kid fan, and I felt happiness just thinking about that great tall guy Josh playing the game he has anticipated since he was a little short guy pitching a football back and forth in Sam’s front yard.

I limited my television viewing of the Republican National Convention to evening hours throughout the week and plan to do the same with the Democratic Convention this week. I think I know how I will vote in November, and tell pollsters who torment me with phone calls who that is. However, I won’t be absolutely certain until nearer the election. Anything could happen between now and then. Who knew, for example, that a movie star would pull a stunt like one did Thursday night and be so vulgar and disrespectful to our President? I did wonder about the morality and patriotism of the folks who applauded him. (I often wonder that same thing about those supporting comics who mock the opposite party.)

I am grateful we have a good family man with either party’s candidate to set a good example for our youth. I love our present First Lady, but Mrs. Romney would succeed in that role. The emphasis this week on hard work bringing success was inspiring, and I am sure we will hear that emphasis this coming week also. I liked it that someone (maybe several people) pointed out that if we can keep our kids in school and if they will postpone sex and babies until they are properly ready, the statistics are in their favor for successful adult lives. I want good public schools for all children, and I am not satisfied with either party’s plan for achieving them.

I think whoever is elected will get credit when the economy turns around as economies always have in the past. I think the turn-around has started. I am not fearful that our nation will go down the drain as so many are predicting. But I know there are many hard problems that we must face, and I think we will do so just as those ordinary folks will manage somehow or other to survive and go on with their lives after all this summer’s natural disasters.

Time on the Flying Trapese

Has it been over a week since I blogged? Oh, dear. I used to assume that time would somehow slow when people retired. I have longed for time to slow down, but instead it goes faster and faster. Some have told me that time does this for people as they grow older. Certainly I did not calculate how much slower I would be with everything I do as I age. So the same activities fill up more time than in the past. I have heard so many retired people wonder how in the world they used to fit in an eight-hour-a-day work schedule. Life has a way of gobbling up time once someone retires. So that is my excuse for not blogging, and I’m sticking to it.

Katherine had been waiting patiently all summer and filling in aides shift by shift the best she could. She was comforted knowing that even though two of her summer workers were going off to college, she had two other aides coming on her staff who were highly trained and experienced.

As her always difficult life would have it, however, one of the two developed transportation problems that have prevented her from working so far, and yesterday the one who had begun this week somehow had an accident with a hospice patient in a Hoyer life. She ended up in the Emergency Room with three broken ribs! All this has certainly destroyed Katherine’s plans and hopes for consistent scheduling. Yet she keeps coping. It also does not help that Katherine has been quite ill with an infection that is being treated with an antibiotic. It does help that this time the infection is expected to be cured with meds taken only every 12 hours instead of the more frequent kind. Two extra pills a day is not that difficult for someone who takes a huge number already of various kinds for different reasons for a systematic disease like multiple sclerosis.

When David left Katherine to go to the farm today, I arrived at their house to replace him before noon at 11, and I found myself eating supper back here at Woodsong at l0 tonight and taking the eight pills I take daily with that meal. Like many women I will take thyroid pill when I wake up in the early morning hours since it must be taken with lots of water but no food. I know my good health prohibits me from griping, although when I was younger, I always refrained from any kind of pills if at all possible.

Katherine was up and dressed in her chair when I arrived, but she and I were busy for most of the time I was there: repositioning, eating lunch and a little supper and taking those many pills with apple sauce, adjusting ceiling fans and lap blankets as her needs changed, trying to make her more comfortable in that miserable wheelchair by pulling on the draw sheet on top of the seat cushion. Nevertheless, we did have time to watch Neil Simon’s Brighton Beach Memoirs, which she had recorded, and that was fun even though we kept being interupted. She watched a bit more television and napped a tiny bit while I was doing some kitchen clean up.

Sam slept late this morning recovering from the late night high school football game last night. I had taken him Thursday night for their marching band rehearsal, and I wondered how any director could get a band ready to perform in August so soon after the start of school. But he did, and Sam was enjoying every minute of it.

He also was enjoying his plans for today to be picked up by his cousins Trent and Brianna and their friend Sarah. They have all known Sarah for years, but she has just moved into her grandmother’s former home in our village of Crab Orchard, so now they can see her more often. They were headed to Trent and Bri’s new down-here home to watch movies. Their dad Brian was down for the weekend from central Illinois to work on his crops here. Mary Ellen was tied up in Springfield with a real estate responsibility and had told us yesterday she couldn’t come this time.

Gerald was mowing up at the other place when I left the farm this morning, and I left his lunch in the oven. He was already asleep when I returned this evening. But from notes left on my desk, I see he also made time today to do some shopping for a new mattress that the physical therapist has been advising him about. He had just started physical therapy this week, and already he is feeling better.

We communicated by phone a couple of times. It is interesting that families are often spread out over much more geographic territory than in the past, but with cell phones, texting, and Internet, families are more in communication contact than ever before in history. Our son was watching Little League baseball. Jeannie, of course, was riding her bike. Gerry and Vickie’s grandson Aidan in the first grade won his first football game today. Our piano rack holds three photos of three-year-old Maddux on his first day of preschool this week. Gerald copied them off the Internet as he also did the 8 by 10 photo of our beautiful Brianna, which now graces our bookcase.

I not only know about my own family today, but our young friend in the Washington, D.C., area talked to both of her college kids today, and she not only knows they are doing well, but thanks to Facebook, I know it too. I also observed her North Carolina aunt and uncle in a photo they posted showing their outing to a mountain. Another friend was celebrating with a family party tonight for their adult son’s birthday, and I know who attended. A young friend who has spent three weeks with her mother during a serious hospitalization sent me a return message on Facebook as well as posting her mother’s turn-around and great progress. One of Katherine’s classmates now out in Oregon told of problems they once had with their new-born and asked for prayer for another couple going through this same situation. I sent up a prayer for them.

On and on, I learned about various folks I care about and some folks I don’t even know. Maybe the wealth of information is one more reason I stay busier than I would like. Yet I find it happily amazing that I have all this information at my fingertips. This availability makes this century incredibly different than any previous time. Regardless, we must face that fact that time no longer marches on but that it flies with the greatest of ease while we try to keep our balance and embrace the experience.

Time on the Flying Trapese

Has it been over a week since I blogged? Oh, dear. I used to assume that time would somehow slow when people retired. I have longed for time to slow down, but instead it goes faster and faster. Some have told me that time does this for people as they grow older. Certainly I did not calculate how much slower I would be with everything I do as I age. So the same activities fill up more time than in the past. I have heard so many retired people wonder how in the world they used to fit in an eight-hour-a-day work schedule. Life has a way of gobbling up time once someone retires. So that is my excuse for not blogging, and I’m sticking to it.

Katherine had been waiting patiently all summer and filling in aides shift by shift the best she could. She was comforted knowing that even though two of her summer workers were going off to college, she had two other aides coming on her staff who were highly trained and experienced.

As her always difficult life would have it, however, one of the two developed transportation problems that have prevented her from working so far, and yesterday the one who had begun this week somehow had an accident with a hospice patient in a Hoyer life. She ended up in the Emergency Room with three broken ribs! All this has certainly destroyed Katherine’s plans and hopes for consistent scheduling. Yet she keeps coping.

It also does not help that Katherine has been quite ill with an infection that is being treated with an antibiotic. It does help that this time the infection is expected to be cured with meds taken only every 12 hours instead of the more frequent kind. Two extra pills a day is not that difficult for someone who takes a huge number already of various kinds for different reasons for a systematic disease like multiple sclerosis.

When David left Katherine to go to the farm today, I arrived at their house to replace him before noon at 11, and I found myself eating supper back here at Woodsong at l0 tonight and taking the eight pills I take daily with that meal. Like many women I will take thyroid pill when I wake up in the early morning hours since it must be taken with lots of water but no food. I know my good health prohibits me from griping, although when I was younger, I always refrained from any kind of pills if at all possible.

Katherine was up and dressed in her chair when I arrived, but she and I were busy for most of the time I was there: repositioning, eating lunch and a little supper and taking those many pills with apple sauce, adjusting ceiling fans and lap blankets as her needs changed, trying to make her more comfortable in that miserable wheelchair by pulling on the draw sheet on top of the seat cushion. Nevertheless, we did have time to watch Neil Simon’s Brighton Beach Memoirs, which she had recorded, and that was fun even though we kept being interupted. She watched a bit more television and napped a tiny bit while I was doing some kitchen clean up.

Sam slept late this morning recovering from the late night high school football game last night. I had taken him Thursday night for their marching band rehearsal, and I wondered how any director could get a band ready to perform in August so soon after the start of school. But he did, and Sam was enjoying every minute of it.
He also was enjoying his plans for today to be picked up by his cousins Trent and Brianna and their friend Sarah. They have all known Sarah for years, but she has just moved into her grandmother’s former home in our village of Crab Orchard, so now they can see her more often. They were headed to Trent and Bri’s new down-here home to watch movies. Their dad Brian was down for the weekend from central Illinois to work on his crops here. Mary Ellen was tied up in Springfield with a real estate responsibility and had told us yesterday she couldn’t come this time.

Gerald was mowing up at the other place when I left the farm this morning, and I left his lunch in the oven. He was already asleep when I returned this evening. But from notes left on my desk, I see he also made time today to do some shopping for a new mattress that the physical therapist has been advising him about. He had just started physical therapy this week, and already he is feeling better.

We communicated by phone a couple of times. It is interesting that families are often spread out over much more geographic territory than in the past, but with cell phones, texting, and Internet, families are more in communication contact than ever before in history. Our son was watching Little League baseball. Jeannie, of course, was riding her bike. Gerry and Vickie’s grandson Aidan in the first grade won his first football game today. Our piano rack holds three photos of three-year-old Maddux on his first day of preschool this week. Gerald copied them off the Internet as he also did the 8 by 10 photo of our beautiful Brianna, which now graces our bookcase.

I not only know about my own family today, but our young friend in the Washington, D.C., area talked to both of her college kids today, and she not only knows they are doing well, but thanks to Facebook, I know it too. I also observed her North Carolina aunt and uncle in a photo they posted showing their outing to a mountain. Another friend was celebrating with a family party tonight for their adult son’s birthday, and I know who attended. A young friend who has spent three weeks with her mother during a serious hospitalization sent me a return message on Facebook as well as posting her mother’s turn-around and great progress. One of Katherine’s classmates now out in Oregon told of problems they once had with their new-born and asked for prayer for another couple going through this same situation. I sent up a prayer for them.

On and on, I learned about various folks I care about and some folks I don’t even know. Maybe the wealth of information is one more reason I stay busier than I would like. Yet I find it happily amazing that I have all this information at my fingertips. This availability makes this century incredibly different than any previous time. Regardless, we must face that fact that time no longer marches on but that it flies with the greatest of ease while we try to keep our balance and embrace the experience.

From Jane Eyre to Shirley

After re-reading Jane Eyre, I decided I should read Shirley since it was right there in my bookcase tempting me. I almost quit sooner than I did a few years ago when I started this second novel of Charlotte Bronte. The foreword warned me accurately that the book sometimes dragged. That foreword had also excited me, however, with the explanation that when she was 15, Charlotte Bronte had heard a favorite teacher at Roe Head boarding school talk about the Luddite Riots in 1812. Charlotte was sufficiently fascinated with this era of English history that she used it as the background for this story.

I liked knowing also that the two main women characters, Caroline and Shirley, were based on real women including her sisters Anne and Emily, who along with their only brother Branwell had died of tuberculosis while Charlotte was writing this novel published in 1849 under her pen name Currer Bell. I am using the author’s given name not out of disrespect or unearned familiarity but to distinguish her from her Bronte siblings.

What almost stalled me in the beginning was the use of dialect that I could not read nor understand easily. For example, here is a quote: “Middling, middling, maister I reckon ‘atm us manufacturing lads I’ th’ north is a deal more intelligent, and knows a deal more nor th’ farming folk I’ th’ south. Trade sharpens wer wits; and them that’s mecyhanics, like me, is forced to think. Ya know, what wi’ looking after machinery and sich like I getten into that way when I see an effect, I look straight out for a cause, and I oft lig hold on’t to purpose; and then I like reading, and I’m curious to knaw what them that reckons to govern us aims to do for us and wi, us: and there’s many ‘cuter nor me; thnere’s many a one among them greasy chaps ‘at smells ‘o oil, and amang them dyers wi’ blue and black skins, that has a long head, and that can tell what a fooil of a law is, as well as ye or old Yorke, and a deal better nor soft uns like Christopher Sykes o’ Whinbury, and a greet hectoring nowts like yond’ Irish Peter, Helstone’s curate.”
As if that was not obtuse enough, then I ran into Charlotte’s frequent use of French, which I guess all educated women of the main characters’ day were somewhat fluent in. I always wanted to study French but did not, so these passages were Greek to me.

But even before I became caught up in Caroline and Shirley’s lives, I kept reading because it was enlightening to me that 200 years ago, the men who worked the looms manually to make cloth were strongly objecting to being replaced by machines. Without unions or any social protection, their families were literally starving. Yet because of England’s war with France and the upheaval in America destroying the market, cloth was piling up unsold and the mill owners were in danger of losing their businesses. Thus, they were compelled to cut labor costs with the use of machines.

As I continued reading, it was obvious that the life choices for women were as controversial in that day as they’ve been in past centuries here. Married women were usually fully employed with the many children produced without birth control, but an unmarried woman of Caroline’s class had no choice other than boredom or governess. The novel was very much about women’s place. I kept feeling the similarities between then and today’s world these two centuries later.

The style of writing, however, was definitely different. I suspect that in homes without radio, television, movies, or Internet, slow-moving 500 page books were very welcome to while away time. (Just as folks used to welcome two-hour sermons when there might be only a once-a-month opportunity or less to hear a speech at a public gathering.)

Probably also the reading public back then welcomed multi-syllable words, which showed off both the writer’s and the reader’s education and created pleasant prideful satisfaction. With my journalism background, I will always choose the shorter word if two words seem to be equally apt. One of Charlotte Bronte’s paragraphs included “lugubrious,” “approbation,” and “acquiescence.” Another paragraph contained “quiescent,” “aspirations,” “apparition,” “personages,” and “countenance.” She used “countenance’ often, where I would say “face.”

I realized when I read Jane Eyre that I could increase my vocabulary if I took time to jot down words I did not know the meaning of and looked them up. But doing that while trying to enjoy the story was not something I wanted to do. I did, however, learn that “beck” in England meant creek, and so I was glad to already know that when I read Shirley. And “wicket” is a small opening or gate. The frequent use in Shirley of “curate,” “vicar,” and “rector” stumped me with the difference and exposed my limited provincial knowledge of only “preacher” or “pastor.” (BTW, I only recently learned from my Irish friend Mary Wilkinson’s blog in Red Room that “potter” is the variant of “putter,” and “amble” can be a noun as well as a verb.)

Although other past reading had made me aware of the rigidity and extreme class consciousness in those days in that part of the world, Bronte made it extremely clear and involved me emotionally in that unpleasantness. With my love for education and respect for teaching, I was angered that the curate, rector, vicar, or whichever Caroline’s uncle guardian was would not approve of her desire to be a governess. I became upset when the retired governess in the novel told Caroline how difficult that position was in those fine snobbish manors. I liked that this novel may have brought about more democratic feelings and may have contributed to breaking down somewhat the smug belief in life-long status based on birth and not on character or achievement. So in that sense maybe we have come a long way, Baby, in 200 years.

I think I read Charlotte’s The Professor at the same time I first read Jane Eyre. Should I go ahead now and read Villette? Although I read Emily’s Wuthering Heights years ago, I’d like to read it again. And I want to read Anne’s Agnes Grey and The Tenant of Wildfell Hall. That last title seems so familiar that I wonder if I have already read it. I may or may not remember even if I read it now.

In the meantime, while Gerald was gone, I grabbed another novel from the bookcase set before and during the Revolutionary War. In it, I find a Tory family living in a class-conscious society in the New York area with people making marriage choices based on family wealth. Another group resent both England and local wealthy landowners supported by the labor of tenant farmers.

Gerald returned home from Texas Tuesday night. Geri Ann has started her freshman year at University of Georgia, Brianna her senior year at Lincolnwood High School in central Illinois, and Sam his sophomore year at Marion. Elijah and Trent will be starting their sophomore years at college soon. Granddaughters Leslie and Erin have started their new jobs, and everyone else is busy with their old jobs.

August Filling Up and Rushing By

I woke up this morning to a gentle rain. I need to go out on the deck and see how much we received so I can tell Gerald when we talk on the phone. He is in Texas.
Less than six weeks ago, Gerald helped granddaughter Erin move her huge sectional couch from the little house in Cambria to her new quarters nearer Southern Illinois University Carbondale, where she worked. I was emotionally prepared to be involved with her 2012-13 softball games there, and I liked thinking about the lovely new duplex she would share with another young woman professional. And I knew I would continue to enjoy her drop-in visits to Woodsong.

But life has a way of jarring us from what we expect. Erin had an offer from Denton, Texas, to become an assistant softball coach at North Texas University and she could not refuse this advancement. Suddenly she had to make a great many changes in a very short time. Her SIUC coach was wonderful and very supportive, and Erin quickly found another young woman to take her place sub-leasing the duplex. That did involve quickly moving her stuff to a storage building behind so this person could move in immediately and also putting that huge couch out on the sidewalk in hopes someone else might use it. Because the new renter had a pit bull and Sadie does not like pit bulls since she had been attacked by one, Sadie came to visit us this past week. And Erin stayed here when she returned from finding an apartment at Denton. Now she and Sadie must adjust once again to new quarters.

Because we have friends in the Denton area that Gerald has been wanting to visit, he could not refrain from saying he wished he could help Erin move and visit with his buddies down there. I am not sure he meant it, but that is how he became involved helping her load the U-Haul and taking it down to Denton behind his pickup. They made the trip in one long day and had her moved in so she spent the first night in her new apartment. The next day Gerald was breakfasting with his good friend Bobby Sanders and that afternoon he and Erin were able to attend Bobby’s birthday party. This afternoon he is visiting at a nearby town with Don and Helen Ruth Dillow. I can tell he is having a good time, and I was relieved that Erin had help moving in. I wonder if anyone ever picked up the couch from the sidewalk.

I was thrilled to have Leslie and Mike stop in Friday night on their way up to Freeport for a reception for friends in Leslie’s hometown. They had to be back at work this morning in Nashville, so they couldn’t stop on their return trip. (Mike sometimes has a 4:30 a.m. client. I wonder if he did this morning.)

Friday evening Gerald and I had picked up a friend from a Marion retirement center and gone down to Anna for supper. One of his classmates phones us with an invitation to this annual gathering of Wolf Lake classmates. We knew we’d be home before Mike and Les arrived from the drive up from Nashville after work, and so at the kitchen table over 10 p.m. cold cuts and deviled eggs and peaches from a local orchard, I loved hearing about Leslie’s new job at a music publishing company. And I knew I must learn more about the recent break-in at their duplex which caused Leslie to describe the “ransackage” on Facebook. I was relieved to find out that Mike had renter’s insurance for them, and they had a call on the way up that the police had already arrested one of the three suspects. So maybe their misfortunate will prevent many future ransackages for other Nashville residents.

Before I went to bed, I fixed a pot of coffee for the next morning with the special blend Erin had brought me as a souvenir when she returned from a tournament in Hawaii. She and I enjoyed our last visit together over Saturday morning coffee, and I confessed how very sad I was about her leaving even though I was happy for her new opportunity. Gerald and Erin were both long gone before Mike and Leslie woke up at a more decent time for a Saturday morning. Leslie and I had another visiting time over our coffee while Mike conscientiously ran into the gym before their 6-7 hour trip up to Freeport. I actually left before they did that morning as I had signed up to go to a preview of a new Sunday School curriculum in Marion that I was interested in. Yes, I drank another cup of coffee there. I caught up on my sleep that afternoon.

Yesterday I taught our Young Adult Sunday School class, but left before the worship service to go to Katherine’s since I knew she had not secured an aide for yesterday. We visited and later watched TV including Tangles, a Walt Disney production of the Repunzel fairy tale. The music was good and the visuals pleasing. I was surprised how much I enjoyed watching a children’s story. Sam is all smiles these days because he received his learner’s permit to drive, and spending time at the wheel with his dad telling him to slow down is now one of his favorite activities.

I came home, ate a late night supper, and tumbled into bed and slept for nine hours. The first thing I had to do this morning was to call our classmate friend who had left two phone messages on Sunday worrying if she might have dropped her billfold in our car Friday night. It was after l0 when I heard her message and I knew the billfold was not in the car, but I went out and looked anyhow so I could tell her I looked. But I felt it was too late to call her back for fear she was in bed.

One of her messages mentioned a black purse, and I remembered she had carried a light beige purse. I was aware of the purse because when we arrived to pick her up, she was in a dither about lost keys to her apartment inside the center. When they were finally located, they were in her black purse. She had changed to the beige one and she had forgotten to take the keys to the new purse.

So I was hoping my telling her that her billfold was probably in her beige purse would solve her problem. In the meantime, however, people there at the center had helped her look and someone had found the billfold, she said. The bad news was that she had put it up and could not remember where she put it. So she was looking again. Usually when I lose something, I look for it for a reasonable time (whatever that is) and then force myself to stop looking. I figure that the lost object will eventually show up on its own. That usually works, so that was all the encouragement I could give her.

She has always been one of my most admired acquaintances and she has achieved so much despite many disadvantages and problems that life threw at her. Watching her handle her present disability with grace and good judgment increases my strong admiration for her, but touches my heartstrings.

My only other item on my agenda today was to call my brother and sister because I have failed to do that recently. Before I made the first call, my sister called me and we had a long catch-up session. Before I called my brother, our cousin Kenny from California phoned to tell us about the death of one of our mutual cousins out there. He would later call our cousin Leonard in Michigan, and he called me back to give me the address of another cousin’s widow. He asked me to call Rosemary and Jim to let them know, so I had sad news to share when I called Jim for our long catch-up phone visit. Then I called Rosemary and talked to her again. Except to walk down the lane with Jake to retrieve the mail and the newspaper, that is about all I have accomplished today. Usually Gerald walks down every morning to get the newspaper and it is on the breakfast table when I wake up. Jake always bounces along with him as he did with me today, but I know he will be happy when Gerald, his best friend, returns.

August Beginnings

I can’t get used to school beginning in the beginning of August instead of the end. Does anyone know why? Is it because of air conditioning? I don’t think the number of days in the school year have been increased, or have they? I guess the old-fashioned calendar that allowed families to start school the day after Labor Day is gone forever. Anyhow in Illinois, everyone is buying school supplies and getting ready for the academic changes coming in their lives.

In fact, if anyone local reading this has size 8 boys blue jeans or clothing to give away, drop the clothes by the farm and I’ll make sure Katherine passes them on to a single mother who needs them for her son’s return to school.

Our granddaughter Erin spent the night here prior to driving to Saint Louis to catch a flight to Dallas. She will return Wednesday. Her dog Sadie is visiting the farm while she is away. I wanted to do something to wish Erin Godspeed, so I fried bacon to go with our breakfast cereal. Our dog Jake, who gets along well with Sadie, gave Erin a send-off by following her car down the driveway barking. Gerald can’t get timid Jake to stop that. Interestingly, Jake never chases our car or truck.

I visited with our daughter Katherine yesterday afternoon and evening as she did not have an aide scheduled. Her morning aide had gotten her ready for church, but by the time they finished, it was too late to go to Katherine’s church. Katherine suggested they go to the aide’s church, which started later—St. Paul’s Baptist Chapel in Marion. Katherine was thrilled with the pastor’s sermon there, and she could not help but be impressed when she learned he also taught at Southern Illinois University Carbondale. David took us in their van to their own church for the last evening service for their interim pastor before their new pastor comes on the field. Katherine is able to attend any service so seldom that going to church twice in one day was extraordinary.

There was an ice cream social after church in the interim’s honor. Katherine enjoyed visiting with friends and seeing how babies had grown and hearing good things about their son Sam. I saw several people we know, and a young woman came up and asked if I was the daughter of the late Clyde and Katherine Martin of Goreville. My parents have been gone long enough now that it is rare that I run into their acquaintances, so I truly appreciated her coming to talk with me.
Her husband was the grandson of Ernest Hancock, one of my parents’ friends, and she and I both knew the same wonderful story of this grandfather’s going to a country school at a very early age and sitting under the desk, not talking or reading. Then he finally came out, and of course he could read perfectly. As an adult, he was a Johnson County school teacher for many years. Rural schools sometimes met children’s needs in ways our present schools cannot as I doubt many teachers would allow a child to sit under the desk today.

But many rural schools were inadequate. Years ago I borrowed my cousin David’s copy of a self-published book written by a Johnson County retired country school teacher—back when self-published books were much rarer than today. I was so embarrassed by the man’s near-illiteracy and his seeming ignorance of his own inadequacies. I could not imagine how he could teach children much, but maybe I was wrong about that. He might have been empathetic and a better teacher than I figured he might have been. Teaching and learning come about in strange ways often times.

All five of the original GlascoFive (Gerry’s family) happened to be at the Premier Fast Pitch National Championship tourney at Irvine, California, last week. It was Geri Ann’s last travel tournament participation. She was playing on one of the Southern Force teams. Erin (recruiting for SIUC) and Tara (recruiting for University of Georgia) were able to share a hotel room and a lot of sisterly giggles. Erin loved all that time with her mother. It was a special time for the whole family.

Tara’s husband Bryan was home in Georgia supervising the three little boys--with the help of baby sitters when he was working in the other part of the house. Gerald thoroughly enjoyed thinking about this and hearing anecdotes about six-year-old Aidan’s first football practices. Three-year-old Maddox entertained himself very happily running the tract there, and since Payton is swimming like a fish these days, it looks like those parents will have a lot of sports events to attend to. Gerald was amazed to learn Bryan had even dared to take the boys bowling—including Payton who was able to get the ball half way down the alley and started by yelling with great enthusiasm, “Go Payton!” As the evening progressed, he was yelling, “Go me!!” I think Bryan and Tara have his self esteem in good shape despite his being overshadowed by two big brothers.

Some people criticize the emphasis these days on building self esteem, and some of the criticism is warranted. Yet it is difficult for a child (or adult) with low self esteem to have the confidence to learn. That is why building self esteem is important by parents and teachers. We all need to esteem ourselves as worthy human beings created and loved by God and desirous of learning from Him. Life long learning is a precious and necessary activity.

July Sliding By

I am not sure what has happened to the last week. We have had a couple of good rains butless just the few miles away where the crops are. We are grateful, nevertheless, for every drop we get. There have been lots of family transitions going on. I have had lots of rest, which unfortunately I am finding I require as I age. I have always resisted sleep and disliked wasting time on it, but now I welcome it. While I do not do much myself anymore, I get tired just hearing what others in the family are doing!

Not long ago, I resolved to start reading more fiction since I seriously have neglected that. I have not done too well with that resolution, but for some reason I read Sweet Caroline by Rachel Hauck—can’t even remember why I had that on a list to order but it was laying around. I re-read Benilde Little’s Acting Out, which I had picked up at Country Inn Suites with their good plan to let you borrow and carry out books. I re-read it because I could not remember what it was about. I need to return it and also Karen Hughes’ Ten Minutes From Normal the next time we visit Freeport.

Because Jane Eyre figured in Leslie’s engagement story and then her wedding invitation called Mary Ellen and Brian’s barn Thornfield Barn, I wanted to re-read that because I could not remember the story. I envy people who can remember and discuss their reading while I sit dumb, and I am always comforted when others confess that like me they too can’t remember what they read. I did enjoy reading it again. And now I have started Shirley, which has a book mark in early pages from long ago, so maybe I will finish it this time.

I have many more nonfiction books stacked around waiting for me to read and/or re-read. Sam is reading Elie Wiesel’s Night for his summer honors class reading, so I just finished reading it again. This is not a book that is pleasant, but I definitely think it is valuable for everyone to read. We need to recognize just how evil we humans are capable of becoming. Oddly, the love and humanity that Wiesel shares makes the book beautiful despite the ugly horror it shares.

I have also been reading in Judges reviewing the stories of Deborah and Barak, Gideon, Samson, and Jephthah and am horrified at the violence and ugliness depicted. I have to smile, however, at some men’s shame to be killed by a woman. I cannot imagine why one cares about the sex of the one who kills them, but obviously once upon a time, some people cared.

I seem to keep busy with watering the flowers, feeding the hummingbirds, reading the daily newspaper, and the two meals a day I prepare. The kitchen clean up surprises me at how long that takes with only two of us eating here. I don’t have nearly the time to read that I thought I would in retirement. But I am grateful to have so much waiting for me to enjoy reading, and maybe one of these days I will get organized to do some writing.

Whew! Watta a Week!

The house is quiet. After a week of much activity and fun, a quiet week will probably be needed for me to rest up. Having five teenage grandkids here all week has been a treat, and the energy in the air was delightful to observe. Now they have all gone their many separate ways. And all we have are memories.

These five kids and four other teens worked hard helping the children enjoy themselves at Vacation Bible School in our village, and they took a load of work off us adults. The neatest thing about their help is that the children enjoy interacting with those just a few years older than themselves. The little ones look up to these teen leaders and see kids they can emulate. I do not doubt that many of today’s VBS students will be working as leaders in the future.

Just as I have watched our grandkids grow up and I have fond memories of their early VBS, these kids too have watched younger children develop and mature. Brianna, once a shy little girl herself, was especially effective with a tiny little preschooler named Kayla, who was the essence of shy sweetness. Three years ago, I think it was, Brianna was assigned to walk with Kayla to various stations. They looked so sweet together holding hands, and even though they only see each other once a year for this week of VBS, the two of them have a strong bond of affection for one another.

Elijah and Trent have just completed their first year of college work, and so they have worked in our VBS for several years now. Sam and Cecelie are both bright enough to keep up with the older three, and they all five feed off each other’s presence. It is exciting to see them having a conference in the living room planning the next day’s skit for the closing assembly. (Or plotting their cousin afternoon or night-time recreation.)

Elijah has sung and acted all this life, and he is able to lead out with the large group as naturally as he breathes. But they all five help write the script for the skits, which has always included Brianna’s stuffed flamingo named Fred. Fred is a regular at most of their visits to the farm. This year Trent brought the huge koala bear he once won as a preschooler, and Eugene the Koala was prominent in this year’s skits with Trent supplying the voice from behind stage. Sam showed his acting ability playing Neville, who interacted with Grandpa Eiler (Elijah).

These grandkids play as hard as they work, and I could not keep up with all their stunts and made-up games that took them all over the farm with lots of water balloons and other accessories that they foraged in house, garage, and shop. The best I could figure out the object of one day’s game must have been to see who get the most dirt on themselves. (You can see the results on Brianna Taylor’s Facebook timeline.)

They sometimes piled in Brianna’s car and headed to town for refreshments or some project, and they spent one night by themselves up at the Taylors’ new house. From an agenda they left laying around, I see that the visit up there included telling stories out in The Barn.

Since the wonderful kitchen crew at VBS served lunch each day for the workers and any of their children, feeding the grandkids this week was easy. Our youngsters are used to helping themselves to cereal and juice on their own at breakfast, although mostly they didn’t because they stayed up late every night and snacked on peanut butter and jelly among other things—so they were not too hungry at breakfast time. I did fry bacon a few days—partly because Cecelie, who does not eat the bacon, likes the aroma when she wakes up.

Last evening their end-of-the-week plan was to eat out and go to a movie. (They had chosen to see Spiderman rather than Bat Man, but I did not know which until they returned home. But I was not worried about them.) Thursday evening we had invited the other teen workers to the farm for pizza and hanging out. (I cut a watermelon at the end of the evening—the first one I had bought this year—and it was really not ripe nor tasty, so I was disappointed at that.) But the other days, we had our evening meal together in the dining room, and the kids ate heartily and gratefully.

Before her wedding, Leslie had made two very large cakes just in case more was needed in addition to their large beautiful wedding cake. Neither was needed, so they ended up in my freezer. The kids were excited when they arrived and saw I had one of them out on the table in the teenage den—the junky basement room that started out as the little kids’ art room when we first moved into this house over a decade ago. When I found out we were having lunch at church after VBS, I took over the other cake Leslie made, so I got those out of the freezer to make room for the okra I am hoping to freeze from Gerald’s garden.

Jeannie and Rick arrived from Freeport last night to pick up Elijah and Cecelie, and we had to put Sam onto a couch to let them have that bedroom. Mary Ellen and Brian had come down to their house also, and they came over this morning to get their kids. They were taking Brianna down for a visit with her special cousin Savannah on Brian’s side of the family meeting up in Georgia and hoping to let the girls tour the University of Georgia campus. (And, of course, Brian would have a visit with his special cousin Randy.)

The last thing Trent wanted was an eight-hour ride to Georgia and back tomorrow with his parents while Bri stayed down. After Jeannie’s morning bike ride and a morning of visiting at the breakfast table, it was decided that Trent had the options of going to Georgia, staying here at the farm and/or at their new house on Route 13, or taking Uncle Rick up on his kind offer to go back by way of Springfield and dropping Trent off at his real home. Not surprisingly that is what Trent chose. So Brian (on his birthday today), Mary Ellen, Brianna, and Fifi left first for their long trip south.

Later after lunch, three kids, their suitcases, and the dogs Lucky and Leah, all piled into the Eiler van along with the last of the big pots of petunias from Leslie’s wedding. Jeannie’s bike went on the back of the van last, and after hugs and waves, the Eilers and Trent took off for their long trip north.

Then Sam and I started preparing for his return home locally. Gerald had kindly put a couple gallons of gas in my car because our warning light had come on yesterday since I’d failed to fill up in town Thursday afternoon. (Yeah, there was a little bit of finger wagging.) We stopped in town and filled the tank and went to Wal-Mart to get a couple of items for Sam’s trip this week with his church youth group to help in a VBS in Belleville.

The Taylors would have liked to have seen Gerry and Vickie and Geri Ann while in Georgia, but they are traveling too. As soon as they got back from California for all the Gatorade award and ESPY excitement and ceremonies, they went to New York City for Geri Ann to play ball there with the Wichita Mustangs at the Triple Crown tournament. This was a first visit to that city, and they really enjoyed it. They flew back to Atlanta for her to play with the Georgia Southern Force at Dahlonega today, and tomorrow they fly to Oklahoma City for a tournament and then on to a tourney in California. I am sure they will be glad to be home when all this fun is over.

After I returned from taking Sam home, I finally had time to get on Facebook and see the latest wedding photos that Leslie had put on yesterday and the family was talking about. If you want to see them, I think you can by searching for Leslie Eiler Thompson on Facebook and looking at her new album under the heading “Photos.” Someday I may learn how to put photos on here and/or Facebook, but so far, I have to depend on others to share pictures.

It has been a busy week, but I have made a point to get plenty of sleep every night but did not waste energy trying to get the teenagers to do so (and they didn’t). So I am ready for rest but not too tired. I am just grateful for one more special VBS week with grandkids.

A Sad Night in America

The paragraph about the nation’s grief over the events at Aurora, Colorado, somehow just got erased and I can’t retrieve it. And I am too tired to try and write it over if I could. One thing I said was that right now while we wait for the investigators and reporters to dig up the information we so desperately want, it may be better not to say anything. So maybe it is best that my paragraph was lost. It is natural for us to seek answers for something so terrible and unusual. Despite the horrible evil that took place, there was even more bravery and goodness shown. We are grateful for all the heroes among us and for all the officials who have done their work so well. In many places on the globe, people have to live daily with carnage, and I hope this event in our homeland makes me more compassionate and prayerful for those who deal with tragedy every day.

Celebration Time

Jeannie finished her 600 plus mile bicycle ride at 2:30 Friday afternoon and stuck her toes in the confluence of the Mississippi and Ohio Rivers at the southern tip of Illinois in Cairo. Then they loaded the bike on the back of the van, and she crawled into the van with her coach to drive to nearby Metropolis. There her coach (husband Rick) took her photo in front of the huge Superman statue. Her goal and plans had been completed. They next arrived at our house, and we had thawed leftovers from their daughter Lesley’s wedding for our supper. (It may take me awhile to empty the freezer of those.)

Actually we celebrated Jeannie’s achievement the night before. Gerald and I drove to Murphysboro and then up and down the steep hills there over to the Big River—the Mighty Miss. We met up with Jeannie and Rick at Grand Tower, where they were taking a break in the mid afternoon. They were running late after a late start because of some camping problems the night before. They also explained it had been rough riding because not only was the wind against Jeannie, but part of the Mississippi River Bike Trail had been on a graveled levy road. When it started lightning and they were traveling under electrical lines, Rick was ready for her to leave the levy and get back on Route 3.

We enjoyed driving through Grand Tower and seeing the Devil’s Backbone Park there by the river. We had a little circling to do before we found each other in this little town because our cell phones suddenly did not have service in one part of the town. But finally we got a connection, and they told us they were parked by the First Baptist Church there.

That was easy for Gerald to find because he knew exactly where it was. When he was eleven, his family had brought him there from their little country church, which met in a tiny country school building, to be baptized in the baptistry there. Their family friends, Johnny and Suzie Dickson, belonged there, and so it was a familiar building to Gerald’s family. We were there a few years ago for Suzie’s funeral. So we took photos of Jeannie and us in front of the outside sign and finally went back to Route 3 heading to Gerald’s brother Garry and wife Ginger’s farm. We were delighted to see rain puddles beside the road in Wolf Lake before we turned off on the road to the forest preserve. Garry and his son Kerry have had considerable more rain this year than we have, and their crops were looking good.

The Mississippi River Bike Trail actually goes through the Trail of Tears Forest Preserve near Gerald’s home place, where Garry and Ginger live now. They said they knew they frequently saw bicycle riders going on that road, and now they understood why. For some reason, the bike trail leaves Route 3 and goes into Jonesboro and heads down Route 127 for the final lap to Cairo.

While we waited for Jeannie and Rick, we called Gerald’s brother Keith and wife Barbara and Garry and Ginger’s daughter Vicki, who was in Carbondale when we reached her, and we let them know that Jeannie was finally in the area for supper rather than lunch as we had thought might be the case. We all met and celebrated and took more photos at a restaurant in Anna before Jeannie and Rick rode back home with Garry and Ginger and spent the night with them. This brought back a lot of childhood memories for Jeannie from the days when she visited grandparents there.

After Jeannie and Rick arrived to sleep their final night at our house, she rose early the next morning to ride her bike here, but it was raining. This was the first time they had been stopped by rain the entire trip. (I thought maybe nature was telling Jeannie she had ridden enough!) We got a nice rain, but unfortunately just a few miles up the road on the farm with our crops, we only got a wee shower. Nevertheless, we had a wonderfully lazy relaxing breakfast with the Eilers before they took off to meet their kids—Elijah and Cecelie--coming down from Freeport to Bloomington.

There Rick went on towards home, and Jeannie took the kids back down to the south Springfield area to Brian and Mary Ellen’s house. Later that night the two Eiler grandkids and the Taylor grandkids--Trent and Brianna--all arrived at Woodsong for the week. Of course, they stopped in town at Sam’s house to bring him out too. These teens have gone from coming to our house to attend Vacation Bible School to coming to help with it. They love being together. I did not think Elijah would be able to come since he was working, but come to find out, he had taken the job with permission to take off this week.

This morning Sam’s dad picked him up to go to his church in town, but the other four went to Sunday School and worship with us, and I was pleasantly surprised to see all four sitting up in the choir. (We have a very informal village church, and anyone is welcome to sing in the choir.) Behind us, our friends Don and Pat Boyd had sitting with them their youngest son Rod and wife Theresa and three of their four kids who had flown in from Florida. It was good to see this collection of so many grandkids sitting in the pews where it seems only yesterday their parents were sitting.

After lunch, the kids collected Sam again, and soon they were at the dining room table playing one of their favorite games that someone brings to the farm. We all went over the church house tonight to join others there decorating and setting up for tomorrow morning. Back home after a quick help-yourself supper, the house is now filled with giggles and voices as the cousins work on a skit they plan to do. Somewhere in the house Sam’s ukulele is sounding. This is all good and worth celebrating. Certainly we have problems and more than one grief going on in our lives also, but this part is good and we are glad.

By the way, Jeannie wrote on Facebook that it was a beautiful day for a bike ride up in Freeport.

Cooled Off But No Rain for Our Crops

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Traveling Down Illinois by Bicycle--600 Miles

With their daughter Leslie’s wedding behind them, Jeannie and Rick are now trekking from the Wisconsin border of Northern Illinois on down the Mississippi River Trail with the goal of reaching Cairo at the confluence of the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers. Jeannie is riding her bike, and Rick is in their van as her support team.

Rick is to go ahead of her and set up camp in their van, which has a mattress prepared for them. However, today she wrote on Facebook that he was pouring cold water over her to keep her cool, and then a swim was planned at wherever they had stopped before taking off to ride in the cool of the evening.

They left Wisconsin to ride to Savanna and on to Rock Island, and are heading to Keithsburg if I understood her last FB post. So far she is sounding enthusiastic, and she had to phone her daddy to say the scenery has been beautiful. I try not to think of her riding on the same highway as the big semi-trucks since much of the Mississippi River Trail uses the highways that follow the Mississippi River corridor. Of course, watching the outside temperature at 109 as we traveled in an air conditioned car today did not relieve my concern either.

A tentative schedule has her arriving from Chester to Wolf Lake towards the last part of next week. I imagine we might go there to wave as she goes by, and we will probably be going to Cairo to celebrate the conclusion of this dream of hers. We are all a little amazed by this venture, but we are following her FB posts with great interest.

A Quiet Fourth of July

Our flag is flying as always on the lawn of Woodsong. Gerald has never enjoyed fireworks very much although occasionally we took our kids to see them. In recent years, however, I have been content to watch Marion’s distant fireworks from our deck, but the dry weather has made all fireworks forbidden in our area, so I will not do that tonight. The day seems unusually quiet with no neighborhood sounds of popping.

Erin had talked about coming over to fish this morning, but she has been so over-busy lately with recruiting trips, moving to a new place, painting her new bedroom, giving lessons, and keeping up with her job on campus that I hope the reason she did not come was that she slept in for a change.

Her house mate Toni had finished her graduate study and her job in this area, and moved to Colorado to a new job. So Erin was ready to move on when a friend in Carbondale needed a new house mate. With the help of friends, she had done most of the moving to this lovely duplex, which is closer to campus and has a swimming pool in the back yard.

One thing remained, however. A huge very weighty sectional sofa given to her by Toni’s parents a year ago. She and Toni had covered it with wine sheets stapled over the old-fashioned pattern, and I think Erin was somewhat sentimental about this first living room furniture because Randy and Lori (her local stand-in parents) had given it to her.

Erin asked her grandfather if he could move it on his pickup’s trailer. Fortunately, he had the lights working and license up-to-date, so he was pleased to help her. I tagged along yesterday because it had been too long since we’d had a visit, and I wanted to see both Erin and her new living quarters. Erin was waiting on the steps of the little house she had rented in Cambria, but Sadie was already in the new place. It was such a peaceful neighborhood with the sound of birds all around, I wondered why she was leaving, but then later I saw that the new neighborhood was also peaceful and full of bird sounds.

I also soon understood why she needed her grandpa to help her move the humongous sectional sofa. She and Gerald tugged and pulled and lifted and rearranged the three heavy-weight sections of this sofa, but the biggest piece just would not go through the narrow door. Since she, Toni, Randy, and Lori had moved it in, Erin knew it surely could come out.

Finally Gerald removed the door, and they got the largest piece through. It was not so difficult to get it through the wider 36 inch door at the new place, but Gerald still took that door off also to avoid scratching it. I had asked if the new house mate did not already have a sofa, and Erin said yes but the living room was large. And it was—quite large enough to easily hold her sectional in addition to the other woman’s couch and her piano and small pieces.

Erin had to go on to her work place, and we had more errands to do in Marion, so we hurried off. After lunch in town, we drove home hoping that the overcast sky meant we were going to finally get some rain at the farm. We’d had a shower Sunday evening (not even measurable on the rain gauge) when some just south of us got two inches, but our farm crops just to the north on the Pittsburg road got nothing. We were thrilled when the rain came yesterday afternoon and we got almost three-tenths of an inch, but then we felt disappointment when we learned that again the crops got not a drop. So we are still hoping for yet another chance this afternoon or evening before it is too late to help much.

Since the creek bed up on the Pittsburg road farm was still bone dry, Gerald went up this morning to continue his work clearing it. Kroger was open today and the senior citizen day was in progress, so that was my day’s duty. I appreciated that once again a group of volunteers from the local Church of God wearing green T shirts were stationed to help us oldsters at the counter. After efforts to buy most of a month’s supply of groceries, having someone help to empty the cart is welcome.

I also accepted an employee taking the groceries to my car, but after I saw the beads of sweat on his brow from all that parking lot work he’d already done, I really felt ashamed I’d let him. When I apologized and thanked him, he was so sweet and said with enthusiasm, “That’s what we are here for.” All the kindness made my dreaded monthly expedition more pleasant than it could have been. (Of course, I still have to pick up needed items between these major shopping trips.)

To celebrate the Fourth, I bought some ribs for lunch from the employee smoking them on the front patio of the store. I felt sorry for him too working outside in the heat, and I wondered if Leslie were doing the same down in Nashville as she has some Saturdays this spring. At home, I quickly baked us a potato in the microwave to go with the ribs while Gerald finished carrying in groceries after I’d stashed the perishables. Together with our very first tomatoes from Gerald’s garden and the wonderful fresh cherries I had purchased, I felt we had a good Fourth of July dinner. Now if it would just rain…

Shifting Back to Normal--Whatever That Is

Our granddogs, Lucky and Leah, are probably back in Freeport by now. Jeannie took them away from Woodsong last night in preparation for her leave taking today. Jeannie has been sleeping over at Mary Ellen and Brian’s place while she cleaned up after the wedding. She has been busy sorting dishes, washing and ironing borrowed napkins, cleaning stuff out of The Barn, and returning items to the church house. Gerald has helped with the heavy stuff; and though I offered to help, I haven’t been called on.

I could tell Jeannie was becoming homesick for her family, and I am sure they are for her. Yet she has tried to work in bike rides every day, which she couldn’t do the last few days before the wedding, She is in training for her post-wedding adventure that she has been dreaming about for a year. She plans to start at Wisconsin and ride the length of Illinois down to Cairo. She had started shopping for a new bike up in her home territory, but still had not made the purchase before she came down. So the last couple days she was making phone calls and looking at bikes here in this part of the state.

Knowing how Gerald loves anything with wheels and that he was one one who gave her the first bike she really started riding distances back in her college days, Jeannie invited him yesterday to go shopping with her. (Come to think of it, he was the one who taught her to ride her first bike as a little girl. She was having trouble getting the hang of it and was distraught. In a family scrapbook, I have her little note asking her daddy for help. Of course, he helped.) I knew they would have fun on this shopping trip.

Gerald also made some phone calls, and they ended up going to Paducah to a bike shop there and found the light weight bike she really wanted. Looking brand new with almost no miles on it, the bike had been traded in by previous owner for a mountain bike. Jeannie was delighted to find what she liked for considerably less than she and Rick had budgeted for. She was all smiles when they came home.

We now are storing her older bike along with other residue from the wedding that would not fit into Rick’s pickup that she ended up with to haul the borrowed water tank back to their friend. I inherited the left-over flavored cans of soda from the wedding, so I have a huge supply here now for the grandkids, who will be back in a couple of weeks to help out with Vacation Bible School.

Gerry, Vickie, and Geri Ann had to leave immediately after the wedding because they were catching a plane out of Atlanta on Sunday to go to the annual exposure softball tourney in the Boulder area. Since this is Geri Ann’s last time to play in this tournament, Gerry was waxing sentimental since their family has been involved with playing and coaching there for several years. (This was Tara’s first time to not go in five years. She and Bryan and the three boys left here to visit his family in the Chicago area and should be back through here tomorrow afternoon.) Gerry was there the last few years as a recruiter for Georgia, and this year Erin joined him and Vickie out there. She was a recruiter for Southern Illinois University Carbondale, of course, and she had been recruiting the previous weekend at an Indiana tourney and was not even able to come to the wedding.

Knowing their family was there when a lightning strike near Boulder erupted into the huge fire just one mountain ridge away made me even more concerned about the Colorado wild fires. I had already been torn up at the larger fire at Colorado Springs. They saw the strike during one of Geri Ann’s pool play games, which consequently had to be postponed. Gerry sent a photo on Facebook, and I was ready for them to get out of there. But Gerry had phoned me later that it looked as if the fire would stay that ridge away and for me not to worry. (Ha. Fat chance.) My Oregon cousin’s grandson Ian is there now fighting these fires as he does during each summer, so I have even more to be concerned about.

Last Saturday I had actually mentally planned a light lunch for whoever was to be at Woodsong before the wedding, but I intended to also have cold cuts in the fridge in case the hair appointments in town took too long. They did. I failed to get by Small’s to buy the cold cuts; and just when I was wondering what people back on the farm would eat for lunch, our son-in-law David spoke up when we dropped Katherine back home. He explained that he had bought a smoked pork shoulder along with a rack of ribs from the fund raiser at Boynton Center that morning. He said he thought with extra people at the farm that maybe I could use the shoulder. (The ribs were for Sam.) He handed me a warm foil-wrapped wonderful smelling piece of pork, which we were able to let people eat for sandwiches at the farm.

There wasn’t time for me to eat lunch that day, but Gerald and I have been eating on that delicious hunk of meat all week. Jeannie had given us some left-over chicken and dumplings, so I haven’t cooked much with just Gerald and me here at Woodsong this week. Today Jeannie unloaded left-over sweets on us, so my freezer is getting full again.

A couple days ago Gerald brought over all the colorful petunias and other potted plants used to decorate The Barn. Some are for Leslie and Mike the next time someone goes to Nashville after they are home from their honeymoon. Most are for Jeannie when someone headed to Freeport has room for them. In the meantime, I have a gorgeous display of petunias and a few other plants on the picnic table on the deck just outside our kitchen doors, and I am enjoying them along with all the wedding memories.

Echoes of Wedding Bells

People were moving slowly today, resting, and reliving the last few days’ activities as we saw our granddaughter Leslie become the bride of Michael Thompson. People have been coming and going here at Woodsong, and Leslie has been the center of much fuss and attention. Many of the far away guests had already left the area last night, and our granddaughter Tara and husband Bryan left Woodsong with their three little guys this morning. Our daughter Mary Ellen came over to drink coffee and talk over all the happenings before I left for Sunday School and worship.

Jeannie and Cecelie came down last Sunday to start preparations, and Leslie late Monday night. The bridesmaids and friends started arriving Wednesday and were cloistered up at Brian and Mary Ellen’s recently purchased house when they weren’t involved in parties and wedding preparations. After the bridemaids’ brunch that Jeannie gave at the church on Thursday morning, they put on their gifts of aprons and pitched in helping make cookies and goodies in our beautiful new church kitchen with its two fine stoves.These were served at last night’s picnic at The Barn.

Jeannie really wanted to have the young women learn to make dumplings there too, which would have been a very practical experience for them and probably a lot of fun. (I would have liked that lesson also.) That did not work out, however, but Jo Barger, one of the best and most knowledgeable cooks in our region volunteered to obtain frozen dumplings from a friend of hers and prepare the large pots of chicken and dumplings for Jeannie. This kind of generosity with her cooking talent is overwhelming to me, but hundreds have profited by the meals she has invited them to or often taken to them down through the years.

Jo always worked full time in the family bookkeeping business (and still helps out at her son’s during tax season), but she and her late husband John gardened and shared produce with their customers—especially the older ones. Jo canned and cooked into the night because she enjoyed it. When she made one of her famous cakes, the understanding was that she had to wake John to lick the pan, and she was careful to be generous there too.

Jo not only published her own cook book, but they built a little cabin just for her with an old-fashioned wood-burning cook stove to entertain with huge country breakfasts. She knows how to prepare anything from a lovely dinner party in her dining room to prime rib for a crowd at a banquet. Jeannie made sure the young women had one of her cook books in the hand crafted monogrammed bags she made for each maid. Before it was over, Jo was helping Jeannie finish up her cobblers and even had the pots of corn-on-the cob ready for Rick to pick up and take to The Barn along with the chicken and dumplings.

While the bridesmaids gave Leslie a shower in their house Thursday night, Jeannie came back to our house along with Rick and Elijah, who had arrived from Freeport. Cecelie, who was designated “Sister of Honor” on Leslie’s wedding program, was deemed old enough to stay there for that all-girl party. Mike and his groomsmen, musician friends, and his parents were in Marion by this time doing their thing.

On Friday, after a fourteen-hour bus trip back from Washington, D.C., Brianna immediately drove with Trent down from the Springfield area to join their cousins here. So, of course, Sam came back out to the farm. Brianna had won this week-long sight-seeing trip sponsored annually by Rural Electrical Association with an essay she wrote. Everyone was wanting to hear about her adventures in the Capitol.

After some road construction on the way, the Archibalds with their three little sons arrived just in time for the rehearsal since Aidan was ring bearer. Geri Ann had afternoon entrance exams for the University of Georgia, so she and Gerry and Vickie did not arrive until long after midnight. (Gerald and I were already asleep, of course.) Rick’s family was also arriving in Marion to their motels there.

Mike’s parents had arranged a delicious dinner at the church following the rehearsal and thoughtfully invited grandparents to join them. Since the new fellowship hall was already set up for the reception the next day, this party was held downstairs in our former fellowship hall. I was somewhat embarrassed since this low-ceiling room looked barren and forsaken when I took the Thompsons and Mike’s grandmother down there Friday morning. But when we arrived that evening, the room was transformed by them to a place of light and beauty. Jeannie said it brought back some wonderful memories to her of all the meals and social times she had enjoyed there as a child. We filled three oblong tables placed in “U,” and the air was electrified by all the youthful energy in the room. We loved hearing the comments and stories when Mrs. Thompson invited guests to speak. Six-year-old Aidan and Jasmine, the adorable flower girl, were quite taken with each other and chose to sit with each other.

Brian and Tara shepherded their three sons through the festivities with grace as always, but the boys were no more eager to get back to the farm than Gerald was because he had the lime pile all ready for their play and they knew daylight was fast fading. Maddux wanted to ride the tractor before bed. Gerald had bought a third little shovel because Payton is no longer a baby but a big boy like his brothers. He caught on in a hurry to this game of lifting shovels of lime from the pile to the little wheel barrel and/or wagon on the toy tractor. He and Maddux tried both toy tractors that are left-overs from Erin’s preschool days. And, of course, there were tractor rides for all on the big tractor long after dark.

Jeannie had been looking all week for a trailer to offer a hay ride at the Saturday night party. She located one at her friend Polly’s parents’ house (more youthful memories), and Gerald started the wedding day retrieving that. He was already scheduled to take me and Katherine to get our hair cut and styled in town, so it was a busy morning that lasted into early afternoon. Somehow we got to the church on time (barely) for the two o’clock wedding, where we were greeted by Brianna at the guest book and grandsons Trent and Sam. I got to walk in on the arm of my handsome Sam in his new suit, since Gerald was going to bring Jeannie in.

I studied again the names of the wedding party and musicians listed on the program printed on the hand-made fans Jeannie had worked on all week, sometimes with Sam and Elijah’s help. Although it was not necessary in the air conditioning, I did use the fan to get in the mood for the vintage theme throughout the afternoon. Colorful potted plants in multiple colors filled the room, and two ivory candles lit up the choir rail.

Soon Mike came out looking handsome in his gray suit and followed by his groomsmen including Les’ brother Elijah all wearing gray trousers and white shirts with colorful ties. (Leslie grew up loving Seven Brides and Seven Brothers, and the bright ties reflected that.)

As we expected, Leslie looked absolutely beautiful in her mother’s wedding veil and remodeled wedding dress. The bridesmaids wore short dresses of lace with different colors beneath the lace. I could not help but notice that Cecelie, our youngest grandchild, could have passed for another college girl. LaRonda had done wonderfully colorful bouquets for Leslie and maids. I loved my bright corsage, which like the others contained left-over lace and ribbons from Jeannie and Rick’s wedding 25 years ago at Center. Aidan and Jasmine did a good job and charmed us with the cuteness.

Jeannie had taken a dress from my college days (that had hung in the kids’ dress-up closet) to Freeport. A seamstress there changed the bodice and sleeves and created a lace top in order to have the 1950s look she wanted. The music was as fine as I expected, and the minister, who had been Mike and Leslie’s Bible professor at Belmont did a good job explaining the love necessary for successful marriages.

Leslie had dried flowers all winter, and the fellowship hall was filled with arrangements from those. By haunting thrift shops and borrowing from friends, Jeannie had turned the room into a lace and linen throw-back to long ago parties. Plates of red strawberries gave just the right accent of color on the white or cream linens. Glassware was the 1950s party plates and cups. Candles beside ancient family Bibles of Rick’s father and grandfather, both ministers, decorated each table. (Jeannie grabbed very old books from the bookcase in our front hall for the tables left after she ran out of Bibles.)

The tiered wedding cake offered chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry choices, and my strawberry was yummy. Lemonade was served in the large punch bowl we used for Jeannie’s wedding. The walls were hung with clothesline filled with many black and white photographs of the bride and groom during their long courtship. I had not seen Rick’s brothers since his wedding, so it was especially fun for me to visit with David from Florida and Scott from Michigan as well as the other guests.

There was a pleasant break with time to change clothes before the picnic and party at Thornfield Barn at Brian and Mary Ellen’s new place. Men had brought the church picnic tables over to the lovely shaded lawn by the barn and we were surrounded there with green corn fields. The serving tables in the barn were loaded with the fried chicken, home-made yeast rolls brought up from Nashville, the chicken and dumplings, slaw, tomatoes, corn and green beans and a variety of desserts Jeannie, Jo, and the young women had prepared. Rick had brought a shiny watering trough down from a Freeport friend, and it was filled with iced colas and sodas.

The original barn owners had been very artistic. Left behind in the barn was a very large circular metal ornament of some sort for some unknown purpose with rows of circles. Gerald had repaired it with his welder and Jeannie had used large canning jars with candles on the outside row and tiny candles in small glass containers towards the middle. This was hung to create overhead lighting and was very pleasing as were all the bright colorful potted plants.

White we ate and visited, kids swung on the tire swing, and young men pitched horse shoes while young women sat on the grass watching as they loved and petted a little stray dog who showed up for the party. Chairs and mikes were set up inside the barn for a group of the couple’s musician friends, and the music throughout the evening was very special. Sometimes we just listened, and occasionally some danced. A special favorite moment for me was when my six youngest grandchildren spontaneously ran up and created a circle to do The Trent, a dance that was originated by him in Vacation Bible School many years ago.

As the evening went on, many crowded on the wagon for a hay ride. Someone built a fire in a fire pit. And most of us just circulated and visited. Then it was time for the Mike and Leslie to leave on their honeymoon. It was dark now, and sparklers had been passed out. The best man yelled out to light them and make a trench for the bridal couple to run through on their way to their decorated car. It made a lovely exit for the new Mr. and Mrs. Mike Thompson.

Wedding Week at Woodsong

The bride arrived about midnight last night. I woke up this morning to a quiet house as Jeannie, the mother-of-the-bride, was already out and about with her list of errands. The house was so quiet that I thought Leslie had gone with her mother. I had just started to read the morning paper with my coffee when Les appeared to eat her bowl of Wheaties.

I wished later I had stopped reading and visited with her a bit because the next thing I knew she was out the door. I asked if she were going to The Barn, and she laughed and said she was and then showed me her list of all the other places she also had to go today. Gerald was on his way to help with a project he got involved in yesterday for The Barn, which Leslie called Thornfield Barn on their wedding invitation. This is in honor of the part Jane Eyre had in her and Michael’s romance. (If that confuses you, you can check their proposal page on http://thethompsonwedding.us.)

I was feeling a little left out, but at least the living room floor was still filled with all the sign making Jeannie had Sam involved with last night before she took him home after midnight and went to get more poster board. The coffee table had the beginnings of the hand-made church fans Jeannie is making. The dining room table is filled with stuff because I have been digging in cabinets looking for glassware or anything vintage that Jeannie wants to use for the cake and punch reception at the church.

After I visited at Katherine’s this afternoon and was coming home, I passed Leslie going out on our rural road, and when I reached the farm, Gerald told that Les had packed up to go over to the house, which sits in front of the barn.

When I heard Jeannie upstairs tonight, by the time I left the computer and went up, she had the living room all picked up and her suitcase ready to roll to join Leslie for the next couple of nights. Mary Ellen and Brian offered the house to Leslie to use for her bridesmaids. (They still have their camper down here, which was what they used before buying this new place, so their family will stay this weekend in their camper on their rented lot.)

They did not paint the barn as requested, but Mary Ellen could not resist starting some redecorating before the wedding so it would look nice. As busy as he is all the farm work this time of year, Brian power washed the concrete barn floor and has the lawn all neat for company. David and Sam drove out and put up the tire swing Jeannie wanted for children, and Gerald is going to donate his washers and horse shoes for the party.

I am most looking forward to the music that Mike and Leslie’s friends are going to provide both at the church and Thornfield Barn. The friends are a talented bunch, so our spirits and our ears will be blessed.

Another Postscript on Geri Ann

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Postscript to Yesterday's Post

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

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

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

Changes

The rain did not come. The corn leaves are curling. Today it sprinkled a little, and we were hopeful. Then almost immediately it stopped. We will see what tomorrow brings.

At the end of this week, Jeannie took Sam and Cecelie to stay with her at the Taylors’ new house figuring she could get more done for the wedding up there. The house has a wonderful old traditional barn behind it. Mary Ellen was so thrilled to find that the huge star that Harold and Novella Rix used to hang on this barn every Christmas is still in the barn for them to use.

She and Brian offered the barn to Leslie for the party after her wedding. Leslie or Jeannie--one or the other--gave Mary Ellen strict orders not to paint the barn, which is naturally distressed, and that’s the look they want for their vintage theme. There are a couple of flower boxes on the front of the barn, and Jeannie planted flowers hoping they will be blooming by the time of the wedding. I have never been to a party in a barn before, but I am looking forward to this one.

Friday morning I had just woke up and Gerald entered out bedroom to tell me that Gerry and Vickie had stopped in the middle of the night at a motel in Marion to get some sleep. We knew they were on their way to a Southern Force tourney in Chicago area, where Geri Ann and the rest of the team were already visiting at a team member’s home up there. They said they must get back on the highway as soon as possible, but we were invited to come to town for breakfast with them. We hurried in and enjoyed out visit with them.

We also enjoyed Gerry’s latest story, which he explained to us because of his black eye. Last fall when their rental lease ran out and their daughter Tara and family were moving to Georgia for Tara to take an assistant softball coach position, Gerry and Vickie rented a very large two-story house with a finished basement. Without too much time to contemplate things, the two families decided to live together—the younger family upstairs and Gerry, Vickie, and Geri Ann on the first floor. Bryan planned to look for a job in Georgia, but his Chicago area boss persuaded him to get the right computer network to put in his home office in Georgia and to commute into Chicago when necessary. It has worked out really well for their two families.

One of the things Gerry has commented on before was how the little grandsons often come down and jump on him in bed in the morning to wake him up. He likes that, of course. But the previous day, Gerry was watching out for little 15-month Payton about to jump when 3-year-old Maddux jumped at the same time and unintentionally landed on Gerry’s nose. Tara was watching the boys and laughed—Gerry is the kind of guy who makes people laugh. Gerry said it popped and hurt really bad—Gerry is the kind of guy who would never admit pain. But Payton knew Grandpa was hurt and went running to find Vickie and tell her that Grandpa was hurt. His nose looks all right, but the eye turned black. Naturally, I had to laugh because Gerry is a great story teller; but at the same time, the mother in me is worried about that probably broken nose. But I am sure Maddux will be hearing this story the rest of his life. Gerald said they called from the highway going back home this evening, but there was no time to stop because they had to pick Geri Ann up at the airport in Atlanta.

Jeannie and Cecelie left from Mary Ellen’s house Friday evening to return to Freeport, and Sam went back to his house in Marion. Mary Ellen came down last evening from work to meet up with her husband Brian for the rest of the weekend. Of course, he and the young man who is helping him with the crops, were in the field, so she came over to Woodsong for a late evening visit with us.

After the church potluck in honor of fathers today, Gerald and I went to Mary Ellen’s house. This is quite a treat having her close enough to drop in on. It was surprising how much she has already accomplished up there in the little time she has had to indulge in this her latest project. They had somehow acquired a large amount of furniture at an auction they like to attend, so they have had considerable extra furniture to bring down here. I could imagine all the heavy tugging and lifting that had gone on to get the house nearly furnished so quickly. But they did it, despite the four careers the two of them are keeping up with.

She had to go back to the Springfield area yet tonight because of work tomorrow, so I hope she did not tackle any major endeavor after we left. She claimed she liked having us there, so she didn’t feel she needed to be up and doing. Except for taking us through the house to see the changes, we three just lounged on her comfy couches in the living room and talked. Later when I went by on my way to visit Katherine, however, I saw Mary Ellen out by her car cleaning up something. Although I waved, she didn’t see me as their house is on the other side of the side road parallell to the highway. It is fun having her close enough to causally wave at even if it is only during an occasional weekend. In a large family, there are so many changes with the normal flux of life.

What is so rare as a day...

We have a family wedding coming up on June 23 in our village church, and everyone is quite excited about these nuptials. I expect to have lots of comings and goings here at Woodsong in preparation for the event. In fact, when the Leslie, the bride-to-be, arrived early this afternoon, I was surprised since I had forgotten she was due in—although I looked for her car when I woke up yesterday, when I originally thought she was coming. She was delayed a day because her photographer friend had a photo shoot with her in the park.

As I explained to Leslie, I haven’t been able to keep up with who is in the house. Brian had brought Brianna over and walked through the kitchen as I was preparing noon dinner. I thought he was still downstairs when I called everyone up to eat, but I found out he had left an hour earlier out the front door. So there was still an extra plate on the table when Leslie arrived, and I hadn’t put the food away yet.
Daughter Jeannie and granddaughter Cecelie arrived while we were sleeping yesterday morning. I think around 3 a.m. We enjoyed the day with them. At Katherine’s house in the afternoon, we added Sam; and on the way home from there, a call came to pick up Brianna at the farm on the Pittsburg road, where she had been helping her daddy farm.

From then on, there was lots of chatter and giggling. Brian later picked Brianna up to go to their newest home—the house came with the farm acreage the Taylors bought. Brian and Mary Ellen have already graciously offered it for the bridesmaids’ lodging. Their family is bunking up there on couches when any of them are down here, and they’ve brought down a fridge from their basement in central Illinois. Mary Ellen is trying to get some painting done since she is looking forward to having a chance to redecorate the house, but she had an open house in central Illinois and wasn’t able to come down for her birthday weekend. Brian and Brianna came down after they went out for a family dinner together.

Last night I went to bed with two teens still up chatting. This morning was quiet since Jeannie was already out on her bike when I woke up, and the late night owls Sam and Cecelie were sleeping in. Gerald was taking advantage of the much too dry weather to mow at the Pittsburg farm. Jeannie was in and out as she had an 11 a.m. appointment with our village florist, and she came home all thrilled about their wedding flowers. Soon she and Leslie joined me at the dining room table where I was trying to clean up a scrapbook project mess.

Gerald had a spur-of-the moment opportunity last week to meet up with Gerry and Geri Ann in Memphis and go on to Oklahoma City for the first four games of the Women’s College World Series on Thursday. With no meals to prepare, I decided to get rid of a box of stuff I had saved for years to make Southern Illinois Writers Guild scrapbooks, which are about the only archives we have. I had completed earlier ones years ago, but this box just sat on the floor of my office daring me to throw the contents away. I figured I could complete the project easily before Gerald got home late Friday night, but as those things have a way of doing, the ephemera just seemed to grow and scatter. However, I also had other things to do during these days. After taking most of Saturday and all day yesterday off, I wanted to clear that dining room table. So I finally did today.

Jeannie had finally found her wedding veil safely stored in a very deep hallway closet and it brought down hoping Leslie might like it. Leslie had her mother’s wedding dress remodeled, and she had it with her. We had the privilege of seeing it on her as she tried on the veil. She is going to be a beautiful bride.
The TVs at our house have been turned on to the Women’s College World Series a great deal of the time the last five days, and everyone in the house watched the first game of the championship finals as Oklahoma beat Alabama. The winner must win two out of three games, so tomorrow we will know whether or not a third game as to be played.

Jeannie and Leslie came in from Carbondale, where they had gone to pay for the ordered wedding cake and whatever else they needed to do over there. Brian came to pick up Brianna. I hear noises upstairs now in the kitchen where the youngsters are fixing themselves a bedtime snack. That does not necessarily mean they are about to go to bed, but I am. Sam says there has been some lightning in the sky outside, so I hope the needed rain finally comes tonight.