Snakedoctors, dragonflies, damselflies, whatever...

Before I wrote last night's blog after returning from Horseshoe Lake, I should have done a bit of research. I thought I remembered from childhood that the fleeting flying insects with brown boides and two pair of transparent wings were called dragonflies and that the beautiful blue ones were called snake doctors. Since she too is from the Midwest, I was surprised when Dorraine Darden asked me what a snake doctor was. Hmmm.

So tonight I googled and found out that there are Odonat that are damselflies and others called dragonflies, and the difference is that the damselflies hold their often iridescent or transparent double set of wings close to their bodies when they are at rest. Dragonflies hold their wings straight out when at rest.

I was surprised to see pictures of these insects in various colors in addition to the dark and blue bodies that I have been familiar with. The photo most like the pretty blue flying insect I saw yesterday was labeled a dragonfly. But other sites showing blue flying double-winged insects labeled the photos as familiar bluet damselfly. I saw none of these insects at rest yesterday--all were flying beside or over the edge of the lake. So I do not know whether their wings at rest were at their sides or held straight out.

Regardless, the slender flying creatures were lovely and added to my enjoyment of our outing. They do not bite us humans, but do help keep down the mosquito population. They stay near water as they lay eggs in the water and seem to be in many countries. One site said that Dictionary of American Regional English lists 80 names for the dragonfly. The names I noted tonight were darner, darning needle, devil's darning needle, ear sewer, skeeter hawk, spindle, needle. If you want to know more, google.

A Sunday Afternoon Drive and an Evening Visit

We woke up Friday morning to the most beautiful weather anyone could imagine. The weekend has been cool with gentle breezes, and every where people have been in their gardens, going on picnics, and relishing being outside in pleasant comfort.

We took off after morning worship stopping by the house only long enough for Gerald to get his camera. After a bountiful dinner at The Old Home Place at Goreville, we drove down I-57 towards Gerald’s goal of Horseshoe Lake hoping to see eagles there as we did several years ago. The eagles were not out and about, but the serene beauty there was worth the trip.

Because Illinois is such a long state, we have both northern and southern ecological extremes. At the very tip we have cypress swamps that remind you of the deep south rather than the Midwest. There is the Cache River watershed in Johnson and Pulaski Counties, where the state has three nature preserves, and we love going out on the boardwalks to see the l,000 year old cypress trees.

But today in even farther south Alexander County, we were seeing the fish and wildlife preserve the state has on this large lake shaped roughly like a horse shoe, which has long provided folk with places to fish and hunt. We were not there to do either, but to find places to enjoy and photograph.

We traveled along the lake stopping at various pull-over sites to view the algae covered lake with cypress knees and tall cypress trees knees growing out of the water. The green algae as far as you could see in many places looked like a perfectly kept lawn of grass with the buttressed cypress growing in park-like conditions. But when you walked out on the shaky boardwalks, you could look down and see the dots of black water beneath the green covering and occasionally hear a fish breaking the water. Except for the birdsong and an occasional motorcycle group, the peaceful quietness was as lovely as the view.
The only wildlife we saw today were the darting blue snake doctors and an occasional butterfly. In only a few places could we look out and see the moving blue water farther from the shore. At one breath-taking stop, there was no room for cypress as every inch of the water seemed to be covered with blooming water lilies.

Finally we left the lake and the few camping families at one or two sites, the kids fishing at the dam, and the cycle gathering at one picnic area. Taking Route 3, we headed back north and stopped in Thebes on the Mississippi River to see again the restored 1848 rock courthouse high on a hill looking out across the river to Missouri.

A handwritten sign on the locked door gave Saturday hours and the Sunday hours from 1 to 4. Either today’s volunteer did not show up or left a few minutes early as we and two men on motorcycles from Missouri were there shortly before four. So we could not go in, but all of us walked down the hill to see the columns on the river side and the staircase there leading up to the court room. The wide locked doors there would have taken us into the jail part of the building, and we saw the iron bars as we walked down the hillside.

Below and between us and the river were a lovely playground, a picnic area, a modern ball field, and the railroad bridge going over to Missouri. Since many years ago Gerald and Wolf Lake High School team had played baseball against the Thebes High School team somewhere along the river here, we explored that area trying to find a remnant of that memory of two high schools that no longer exist. We gave up and came on up through Anna going through the drive-in to quench our thirst and were back at Woodsong by supper time.

I fixed Gerald a sandwich and drove on over to our village for the evening church service since this had been my Sunday to teach the preschoolers during morning worship.

I had barely gotten in the house when Gerald said, “I want you to go up to the other farm with me. I want to show you something.” Only when we almost there did he share that Brian and Mary Ellen were down and Mary Ellen was in the camper needing a ride to Woodsong while Brian looked over his corn crops. Thus, the day ended delightfully with visiting at the kitchen table over bologna sandwiches and fresh peaches from a local orchard. When Brian arrived from the other farm, he had to visit with Gerald awhile, and Mary Ellen and I had a little more time to talk in the living room before they took off in the cool darkness for the long drive to their new home in central Illinois.

Let it Rain. Let it Rain. (And Please Let it Stop.)

More rain. We have had enough. It is muggy and hot again. I’m grateful it was not so last week, but the weekend rains were so heavy that we surely did not need more today.

I have been running around. Sunday afternoon I rode to Sikeston, Missouri, with my friend Roger Poppen, who had invited me to go to Heartland Writers Guild to share my blogging experiences. We met in front of the Cobden museum and drove down narrow leafy-lined Mountain Glen Road to Route 146 and it was so beautiful. I always thrill when I see the Mississippi River, and now the new Cape bridge is an extra visual treat. It was fun talking to the writers at the lovely meeting room at the Episcopal Church with walls covered with a fine collection of textured Biblical murals made by someone or some group. (I could just imagine a group sitting around a table creating these.) The writers there had been encouraged at a workshop to start blogging and wanted to know more about it.

Most promotion experts suggest blogging as a way to sell more books, and I had to confess that I doubt if I have sold any books because of blogging. But I gave them these reasons that I like to blog:
(1) I enjoy writing, so blogging is one more outlet for fun for me. I used to tell students the way to becoming a good writer was to read, read, read, and write, write, write. Blogging provides that important writing practice.
(2) I like for people to read what I write. Blogging provides instant publication. No rejection slips! I love it when I am out and about and people tell me that they read my blog. (Of course, you can blog and keep it a private journal, but I like to share my life because I enjoy reading about others’ lives.) I especially like it when people comment on the blogs. [Hint. Hint.]
(3) I like to interact with other people. So I can sit at my desk at the farm and still have an online friend in Ireland who tells about walking with her dogs in the bog by the sea, one in Brazil who tells about her teaching and translating work there, and in California one who writes about the shootings and the sadness in the ‘hood she is acquainted with. And many more lives that make mine richer.

Of course, I had to be honest and admit that blogging and microblogging on Facebook, Twitter, etc. is an enormous time waster that may be keeping me from getting more important writing done. (I must get an article done for next year’s Southern Illinois Writers Guild anthology if I meet the August 1 deadline.)

It had rained so hard over on the Illinois side of the Mississippi that when Roger and I returned through Mountain Glen Road, gravel and some big rocks had washed down the hillside and onto the road. I had planned to cut through the country to drive back to Woodsong, but I decided I better stick to the highway and go back to Carbondale the way I had come.

Then last night I had dinner at B.J.’s in DuQuoin with the Perry County Historical Society. Lance Feik had invited me to come up and speak to them about the Priscilla on the Trail of Tears. The group was very interested and quite knowledgeable about Mulkeytown’s Hollyhock Girl, who was freed from slavery on the Trail. I learned a new story from one of the gentlemen there: he had been told that Priscilla was first buried behind Silkwood Inn and only later was reburied in the family plot at the Reid-Kirkpatrick Cemetery. I’d never heard of that before, so now I will be asking people if they know anything about that! (I’d considered visiting the cemetery on the way there, but the rains made that unwise. I sure did not want to get stuck up on that hill and miss the meeting.)

Two of the society’s members are working on a website with the history of Pinckneyville’s business and professional people. A photo of a gorgeous quilt that some of the members had made for fund-raising revealed more talent. Although there were all ages represented, I was most impressed with the two women in their nineties at the meeting. Jean Ibendahl, who is vice president, told how the 4-H Club that she once led raised money and took a tour to Tahlequah. Jean had just had surgery, so she had a helper driving her, but Gertrude Smith, 93, assured me she had driven herself to the night meeting. I can only hope if I live that long that I will be as lively in mind and body as these two women were.

I drove home through the dark down Route 51 through Dowell, Elkville, DeSoto, Carbondale, and onto Route 13 through Marion to Woodsong feeling quite young after being with this inspiring bunch. I did get up early this morning and have coffee and read the paper with Gerald before he took off for an Angel Flight to Waterloo, Iowa, with his friend Herman. But then I went back to bed and slept through the gentle rain till I was all rested up. Tonight I droved through a harder rain to a book study at church and got quite wet just getting in the building.

What Was Happening July 6-10, 2009

At Woodsong:
Me waking kids up singing, “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning!” (Except Brianna was usually already up. Elijah and Sam would roll over and go back to sleep until the second call.) At least five pairs of shoes at every door. (There weren’t that many kids in the house—only four—but they each had more than one pair of shoes and Cecelie found old shoes of mine to dress up with.) Towels all over the bathroom floor. (What are towel racks for anyhow?) Fred the Flamingo joining in conversations. (Brianna is his voice.) A beautiful golden trombone on the living room couch. (Open case awaits on the floor.) A hair drier and cord draped over the bathroom sink upstairs still there after all are gone. (Gotta keep in handy.) Toothpaste fleks decorating the downstairs bathroom. (Gma wants us to brush our teeth.) Kids planning skits for opening of VBS each day. (Gma was proud. And she says to please speak louder.) Fred the Flamingo getting in on the act. (Aren’t I important too?) Elijah and Sam making realistic looking bloody wounds with an old lipstick they found. (Now that we have scared Gma, let’s scare Brianna and Cecelie too.) An almost full moon. (The better to see with while riding the “mule” around the lake.) Unmade beds. (We will be using them again tonight!) Gma looking for ticks in hair. (She even wants us to shower before bedtime to wash off any crawling ticks! They deserve a night’s sleep also.)

At Center:
Elijah leading us in fast-moving happy songs in the assemblies. Three-year-old Braden in the middle of the church aisle doing all the movements with great concentration. Teens lingering in the church parking lot while having serious conversations about concerns for their friends’ problems and how they might help. Little Miranda being the best mother to the baby Moses doll in his basket. Little boys acting like little boys rolling on the floor and under the tables. Little boys standing in straight lines and doing rhythm chants and songs. A sweet sweet smile on shy Kayla’s tiny face each time we sang “Itsy Bitsy Spider” with the three-year-olds. Keegan putting all his heart and feet into “If You’re Happy and You Know It.” Three-year-olds lining up and tiptoeing behind Miss Linda for water and bathroom break. Three-year-olds taking turns during water and bathroom break. Kids playing hop scotch on the sidewalk. Older kids rushing to put on “spy clothes” for relays. Fred the Flamingo taking part in the skits. Tyler in his first acting role when he brings Fred on stage. Addison, Allison, Avery, Autumn—lovely “A” names on lovely girls--hard for a teacher to keep straight. Eight-year-old Duane showing empathy and kindness to a difficult classmate. Kids smilingly opening doors for others after conversations about showing honor to others. Older kids racing through phone books to find clues. Kids learning Bible stories and Bible verses. Everybody and their parents, grandparents, etc. eating well in the final picnic under the shelter. Kids playing at the picnic on the new playground equipment that two men took off work to put together for them. A cluster of young teens from various towns hanging out after the picnic exchanging phone numbers, e-addresses, hugs, and tears. Telling Fred and each other how much they are going to miss each other.

Gotta Get Up in the Morning

I better not write long tonight, because morning will be here before I know it. No sleeping in this week as I usually do. The grandkids have been unusually good this year to go to bed early and not giggle too late. They are growing up. Of course, they are also tired from outdoor play, hiking around the lake, and all the activities they dream up. When they act bored, I try not to make suggestions. Then they come up with a plan.

For many years when they were small, I went to bed with them and we told stories to each other and tried to settle down that way. They don’t need that anymore.

The girls went over to Katie’s house next door this afternoon. It was really nice of her to invite them because she is extra busy not only with her daily swim lessons, but it is also 4-H show week. She will have to have her projects ready to be evaluated. Bri and Cecelie left Woodsong wearing amazing garbs with picture hats. I figure Katie was somewhat surprised. Elijah drove them over in the “mule.”

Sam had left Vacation Bible School with one of the teachers in order to be home in Marion for his trombone lesson, but his dad brought him back out to the farm afterwards. That gave Sam and Lige some afternoon man time together before they drove over in the “mule” and brought the girls back home.

I fixed a large meat loaf for supper, since our kids seem to like it. They were hungry I’m sure. After supper, there were more outside activities. In fact, I got nervous when they were out in the “mule” after dark. We hollered across the lake at each other and I had visions of their being stuck—but they were just having a good time and were ready to call it quits and come back to the house. More giggling and play acting.

They have been preparing a skit for the opening exercise each day since Elijah makes a great director as well as actor. (He should because there is not doubt that Freeport’s high school drama coach is one of the best in the state, so he has a mentor.) Lige did a good job explaining how to project your voice. When it gets really noisy, I might wish he hadn’t done so well.

That’s all folks. I am going to bed now.

Tomorrow's Adults

Although I was not involved, I was delighted to see this front page story on the Southern Illinoisan yesterday. I thought it was a neat tribute to the young descendants of the Cherokee who came through our region with so much suffering in 1838-39.

I was so pleased that Joe and Ethel Crabb and his family of Pope County and Dr. Herman Peterson of Southern Illinois University Carbondale were on hand to make these young people welcome this time to our state. I could not think of a more fitting way of celebrating our country’s freedom than showing this kind of friendship and hospitality to these young adults seeking their heritage and who will be leading our country in the years ahead.

Cherokee descendants visit Trail of TearsThe Southern - Carbondale,IL,USABy Codell Rodriguez, The Southern DIXON SPRINGS - Bicyclists with Cherokee heritage are retracing the Trail of Tears, beginning in Georgia and ending in ...

I have just settled down four grandkids who arrived at various times this evening for the annual Vacation Bible School. First Mary Ellen and Brian brought down Brianna. She was able to go over to the church house with me and help set up the room, where Natalie and I will be teaching—the communications bay for an imaginary satellite in space. Other of our high schoolers were also there helping, and Gerald showed up to hang some objects on the wall for me. Then David brought Sam out from Marion. Granddaughter Leslie and her friend Mike just dropped off Elijah and Cecelie and headed down to Nashville for classes in the morning. They had spent the weekend at Cornerstone—a Christian music festival that Les had also attended last year. Then they met up with Jeannie and Rick and the siblings to celebrate Leslie’s birthday in Springfield and brought Lige and Cec on down to Woodsong.

They have all had a hot dog, etc. Elijah has already had them practicing the actions for some songs he will be leading. Cecelie has had ear drops put in her ear. And I really think they are going to be sleeping soon. I am glad they settled down early, which is hard for them to do since they have not seen each other in awhile. We will need to leave here at 8:30 in the morning.

So I better get to bed too. It is going to be a very busy week. One by one as they get into high school, our kids quit being students and become helpers. I look at these tall kids in amazement. How did this happen? It seems only yesterday Lige was a preschooler, and now he has his driver’s license? It is neat to have tomorrow’s adults in the house again.

Death Where is Thy Sting?

Mary Ellen wanted us to come see their new home, so yesterday we drove up to the central part of Illinois to see where they have moved for Brian’s new job assignment. Thus, I am blogging a day late.

Although they both grew up on farms and have talked about wanting to be in the country for years, it took this move for them to accomplish that. Now with their house sitting on five acres and a second detached garage to hold their truck and tractor, they are feeling like true country folk again. Mary Ellen was mowing the huge yard when we arrived, and Gerald could not resist after lunch going out and mowing a bit himself. But Brianna finished up the major part of it. Although he has a bedroom upstairs, Trent is relishing all the space in the finished basement for his computer, games, and activities.

Their mailing address is the town of Waggoner with a population of 250, a grade school, a tiny town hall, and the post office all on the main street. Their water comes from Farmersville, where they also have secured library cards. The two teenagers are enrolled in high school at Raymond, which is a small school with a good academic record.

The difficulty of answering the question, “Where do you live?” is part of rural living. Our children went to school in the village of Crab Orchard, and we go to church and use the library there. Our mailing address is Marion, where we buy our groceries. We are a mile down the road from the village of New Dennison. Our telephone exchange is Crab Orchard/Paulton.

Today Gerald and I went down to Union County to attend the funeral of a 97-year-old mother of a friend. Gerald and Jerry Pirtle had been friends for years before they found out that they were also cousins--third or fourth--I have forgotten which. We should have wondered about it earlier since Gerald’s maternal grandmother’s maiden name was Pirtle. Jerry’s father had died when he was very young, and as an adult Jerry became interested in family history. Finally Gerald and Jerry realized they shared a family tree. Today we met Jerry’s sister Joan.

Their mother had a second marriage, but it too ended with a husband’s death. She did not let any of this defeat her. She lived not just a long life but a productive one always caring for others and showing her love through service and hospitality. Photographs and the statements of friends and relatives made that clear. Joan told me how her mother always ate good food (cooked it also I learned) and exercised. Even after she could no longer live alone but went to live at the Lutheran Home in Cape Girardeau, she walked a mile a day in the halls using her pedometer.

After the funeral service in Anna, we joined the cortege that traveled up through the hills of peach country to Alto Pass, and we sadly watched as Mrs. Pirtle was laid to rest beside the youthful husband she had lost so many years ago. This is the same cemetery where Gerald and Jerry’s oldest known common ancestor Polly Pirtle is buried. She reared a large family by herself, and no one was ever sure what happened to Polly’s husband.

While watching the casket was being lowered into the awaiting grave, I had the odd experience of suddenly realizing I had been stung by something. I never saw the perpetrator, but I pulled out the stinger in my leg and even got some of its poison in my hand before I was able to throw it down. The poison hurt, but fortunately I am not allergic.

Our car was trapped between all the other cars on the narrow cemetery road, and the usual remedy of a paste of baking soda that I always applied to the children’s stings was not available. After we left Alto Pass, we cut through the country on a beautiful narrow road surrounded by green leafy trees—along with many fallen trees from the storm. The stinging pain would subside and then come again, but I distracted myself with the leafy loveliness.

By the time we got to Carbondale, where we had planned to have lunch and get Gerald’s glasses adjusted, only the red spot remained and the pain was gone. I sat in the car and studied for next week’s Vacation Bible School while he visited the eye place. We stopped in Marion at my doctor’s for me to get a scheduled INR reading, and that reading was good. We were home in time for me to do a bit more study and Gerald to mow more of the yard that he started earlier in the week. He had time, of course, to find out how Southern Force teams were doing at the softball tournament in Boulder, Colorado. As we ate a sandwich for supper, we reflected on those friends from his childhood with whom we had visited at the funeral. And we knew that Jerry and Joan and their loved ones were reflecting on their mother’s century of living.

Weather Cooling and Excess Sharing

When the preschoolers said in Sunday School that we’d be having our annual dinner honoring fathers down at the picnic shelter rather than downstairs, I thought surely they were wrong. Surely we wouldn’t eat outside because surely it was too hot to eat there, but they were right and I was wrong on two counts. We did eat outside, and it was extremely pleasant.

I imagine our church hostess and husband, Shirley and Butch, checked it all out for us and made that great decision. Not only was there a wonderful breeze, but I had forgotten that the shelter is usually much cooler than the lawn surrounding it. (I’ve had to get a sweater more than once.) Butch reminded me that a barn’s open-ended outer hallway also always seemed cool. It has been many years since I’ve been in a barn’s hallway, but his comment brought back memories. Not only was it cool, but the aromas there were always marvelous—leather lines and bridles hanging on the wall, the warm pungent smell of the horses in their stalls, and redolent straw underfoot.

Our main dish for the fathers (and blessedly for everyone connected to a father as everyone is) was barbeque and Italian beef that Patrick had delivered to us The Old Home Place, his and Tina’s great down-home restaurant at Goreville. Then there were the great variety of salads, the multitude of vegetable choices, and a dessert table laden with everything from fruit to decadent choices. Because it was so quickly gone, I didn’t get a piece of Don Boyd’s coconut cream pie, but I heard it was good.

Yesterday morning I had quickly baked a cake from a mix to add to our luncheon sandwiches at our Clean Up Day at church. There were so many desserts there that most were left over, so I just left mine for today’s dessert contribution. Over 20 of us were there emptying long neglected storage rooms and pitching out papers and equipment no longer used or needed. We bought a lot of space that way! Tracy spent the morning just organizing and placing left-over art and educational supplies in a new cabinet for that purpose. (Over and over volunteer workers will buy supplies and leave the extras, but no one knows where they are when needed.) Tracy suggested our new slogan: Shop here first!

The men got the worst of that work because they were outside in the heat loading heavy items on trailers—a load for the dump but everything possible to be recycled, one load of no-longer needed but comfortable furniture to be shared at our homeless shelter which takes donations for when folks move out and need furnishings in their new place. A set of metal folding chairs went to the Ministerial Alliance’s household give-away. Kitchen chairs often go before the kitchen table does, so extra chairs are always welcome.

When I worked with families, I became aware not all families had enough chairs for family members at their table. I also saw young mothers use magazine pictures to decorate their living room when they lacked framed pictures. I was touched by their efforts and bragged on them for doing so. I always remember this and pass on any “pretties” or accessories I no longer use. One of our members, who is a teacher, knew children with head lice whose pillows had no pillow cases—let alone clean pillow cases. She was always collecting extra bed linens for such homes.

A great majority of Americans have much too much stuff (hence the storage building industry). Many people do no realize how bare and needy some homes are. A lawyer, who has generously volunteered down through the years at the household giveaway, which is housed in his church building, told me about a time when almost everything donated had been claimed after many winter fires. On that unusually scant day, only one old couch was there with one missing cushion. He told how thrilled the children were with the mother who claimed it because they were going to have a couch to sit on.

Most of us aren’t exposed to that kind of need. We sometimes forget that no one should burn or dump furniture or clothing that someone else needs. I have city friends who are able to simply put giveaways on the sidewalk and know someone will claim and use it. We can’t do this in the country, but with a little effort we can usually share our excess and spare our landfills.

Summer Starting with a Heat Wave

The heat is bad, but the mugginess is worse. On Facebook, young friends write about canning green beans, helping with baby calves, and working in hay fields, and I am glad I am retired. Gerald is quoting Geri Ann who emphasizes she does not mind playing in the heat because she does not want to get soft. As much as I admire this hard-working younger generation, I get re-tired just thinking about these young women with these activities—many of which, such as playing softball in this heat, I never had to endure.

What is especially bad is that there is still so much hard work facing people cleaning up after the derecho--seven weeks now after it hit. (Of course, uprooted trees in the woods and even on people’s lawns may still be there ten years from now.) I hear people quoting estimates of $3000 and more to remove a single big tree from their yard. How many can afford that unexpected expense?

Seeing people on their roofs is a common sight, and lots of us still have tarps or pieces of plastic protecting us. When Scott Miller came last Saturday morning to repair our roof, he found the shingles were so hot that they were sticking together in such a way that he decided he’d have another man come look at it. I notice some people are replacing damaged roofs with metal roofs. They will be ready for the next derecho, but the newspapers tell us that may not be again in our lifetime. I hope the prognosticators are correct.

This heat is especially difficult for people with multiple sclerosis or other conditions that make them heat sensitive. I guess Katherine had a difficult time day before yesterday.
However, with skylights covered to keep out sun and multiple fans moving cooled air, her home was wonderfully cool yesterday when I stopped by for a visit. Scooter was content to take a nap in his kennel when Katherine did as it was much too hot for him to want to leave the air conditioning and go outside.

Her evening aide dropped by unexpectedly with her two adorable little girls dressed in sweet new swim suits, and the two-year-old told us, “I went wimming.” They cooled us off and cheered us up just to look at them with their beautiful curls and deep brown eyes, and I was especially entranced when Kiki decided to call me grandma after we explained that I was Sam’s grandma. Mar-Mar, age four, was the perfect responsible big sister helping and correcting (bossing) the little one. I was there when friends dropped Sam off from band camp at Southern Illinois University Carbondale, and I wondered if it were cool in the buildings there where they worked hard all day rehearsing for tonight’s end-of-camp concert. It was cool enough then that he took Scooter outside as I went on to get a few groceries while I was in town.

Enjoying the roadsides as I drove home, I noticed that the brown-eyed Susans and the orange tiger lilies have joined the Queen Anne’s lace and replaced the multitude of daisies in fields and ditches. (I know the golden flowers are correctly called black-eyed Susans. But when I was a child and we went to the farm each summer, I remember the annual greeting by the bright yellow flowers as we went down the steep hill with a rough rock-bed road that led to Mount Airy Farm. Since my own eyes are brown, I renamed the blossoms in order to claim them for my special flower.) The summer beauty at least gives us a reward for enduring the muggy heat.

Hurricanes, The Mad Gasser, and the Kokomo Hum

For the second Thursday evening in a row, I saw writer friends. On the second Thursday of the month, Southern Illinois Writers Guild sponsors an open mike at Latta Java in Marion. When I can, I like to go to hear others read. I might not have made it this month since Jeannie and Cecelie were visiting, but I had a phone call that morning from Lois Barrett that she was in town from Texas and she planned to be there. I told her to be sure and bring copies of her newest book—her fourth novel.

Despite a crazy afternoon where a hair appointment was cancelled because the shop kept losing their electricity off and on all day, Jeannie was encouraging. We managed to get back to the farm, feed everyone, and be at Latta Java at 7. We heard some wonderful readings including the first chapter of Gulf Coast Love Affair: 19th Century Hurricanes, which is based on Lois’ research about local hurricanes. I haven’t had time to read it yet, but as sit lies on the table, I am enjoying the cover by her grandson Matt Fowler of Harrisburg. When Lois still lived here, I used to engage in email conversations with Matt, who did Lois’s website for her while Matt was still in high school.

Then this Thursday my friend Jari Jackson and I scurried over John A. Logan College for our regular SIWG monthly meeting to hear Jason Brown. After teaching at Southern Illinois University Carbondale, where he studied in the Creative Writing Department, and teaching at JALC, he became a part of the faculty at Eastern Illinois University up at Charleston. But we are fortunate that he is still living at Murphysboro this summer and could visit SIWG. A poet and short story writer, Jason had been much praised by our president Jim Lambert ever since Jason and he met last summer when both had won scholarships to Ropewalk Writer’s Conference in New Harmony, Indiana.

Much published as a poet, Matt talked some about his aggressive submission of his poetry and encouraged us to do the same. He gave us copies and read us some of his poetry in his fine reading voice. (He thinks we enjoy most when we can both see and hear poetry at the same time. I agree.) But he spent most of his time talking about the novel he has been working on nightly to the exclusion of most of his other writing. One of his handouts was copies of articles in the Mattoon Daily Journal-Gazette, a town near EIU where Jason and his wife will be living when fall classes begin. That handout instantly piqued my interest since down through the years since they have lived in Mattoon, my sister-in-law has frequently sent me clippings from that newspaper telling of activities and successes of their family.
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However, I had never heard them mention the “Anesthetic Prowler.” Jason is basing his novel on a happening in Mattoon in the fall of 1944 (long before my brother’s family moved there) when several families reported being attacked in their homes by the sickening sweet fumes coming in from an outside window. They suffered nausea, slight paralysis of their legs, burning eyes and mouth, and other unpleasant symptoms. Footprints outside windows and even a cloth permeated with the mystery gas left on a front porch escalated the excitement. National newspapers picked up the story and there was widespread terror in the town. No one was arrested, the incidents stopped, and it is still debated today if this really happened as reported or if mass hysteria played a part. Oddly when I just checked Wikipedia, I found that l0 years earlier a similar situation occurred in a Virginia community.

I couldn’t wait to call my brother the next day and ask him about this story. “Oh, you mean the Mad Gasser?” he asked. No one had talked to him about the historic event, but sometime in the past decade the newspaper had run a feature about the Mad Gasser and he had read about it.

That brought to mind that shortly after our youngest daughter Mary Ellen and husband Brian left Kokomo, Indiana, and moved to the Saint Louis area, we heard about the Kokomo Hum. They had not heard it while living there, but evidently many people did and reported headaches and health problems because of it. That story too was picked up the national newspapers, which is how I learned about it. Come to find out, there was also a Taos Hum and numerous other Hums in cities around the globe, and certain people were affected negatively by these reported mysterious low-frequency sounds.

Brian has been down to Woodsong for the weekend hauling off soybeans and checking his crops. He will be doing the same tomorrow. After a job assignment change, their family just settled in this week in their new home in rural Wagoner, Illinois. Their five acres is somewhere up by Springfield, Litchfield, Raymond—all towns I’ve heard them mention during their house hunt in that area. I wonder what new legends and stories will come from that area, where Lincoln used to walk. Brian had me laughing at the extreme burglar alarm system in their house including a search light on their roof. They haven’t turned it on. If the Mad Gasser shows up, they will be all fixed to scare him away.

Fifty-three Years and Counting

After learning at church on Sunday that the women’s class meeting was to be at Charlene Morris’s the next night, I knew I had a conflict. My job as song leader meant I was supposed to show up with the bag of song books from the choir room and have songs selected to sing. I have been known to forget the song books or the selection and even on occasion the entire meeting. Yet I knew I would not forget the next night because that was June 15, our wedding anniversary.

Not being reared on a farm but only summering there, I was accused early in our marriage of thinking of the farm as a vacation resort—which is was for my birth family. Do not misunderstand. My teacher parents worked hard the four months each year we moved to the family farm while schools and salaries were shut down. Nevertheless, moving to the farm for us children was definitely a wonderful vacation.

So it is not surprising that I did not realize that the month of June was already an over-busy time for farm families. Even if I had known, I’d probably still have planned a June wedding. That was the time the school year ended and we were able to have our wedding after my year of teaching in a Chicago suburb.

However, as we began our farming career, I quickly learned that a dinner date to celebrate in June was often impractical. I loved the busyness and excitement of June in those days. Our main goal was to be sure that we had a crop in and thriving for that year’s survival. Consequently, we were quite flexible about when we celebrated. I can remember one year that we finally had that time in November! Therefore, it was not difficult for me when Gerald suggested we go out to dinner on Monday night to explain about the class meeting and ask if we could wait until Tuesday night. And we did. It was fun to relax and focus on each other rather than having others at the table as we usually do when we eat out.

Since our restaurant was near the mall and we saw the department store I’d been wanting to visit right there in front of us as we left the restaurant, I asked if we had time to let me run in. (I had on the light weight summer jacket that I was wanting a new blouse for. The blouse I had on was not as perfect as I had hoped when I bought it.)

Gerald was quite agreeable, and he cooperated beautifully when I found a sale rack and ended up buying not just the different blouse but six other garments. The bundled garments packed tightly into the plastic covering was heavy enough that I was grateful when he showed up from the men’s department at the perfect time to carry them to the car. Not wanting to give Gerald too much time for boredom, I had chosen them quickly and took them home to try on the next morning. (I was able to keep all but one, which I returned yesterday.)

I had not bought clothes in quite awhile. I don’t usually like to shop, and I was overdue. I think the new garments I wore this spring may have been purchased in the fall of 2007. Now I have wardrobe additions in the closet ready for next fall as well as the new blouse for the summer jacket.

We were out of bananas, which we keep for potassium purposes to go with one medicine. So next we went to the local warehouse store to get bananas and to also renew our membership there and get rid of that dunning letter I had laying in the front seat of the car as a reminder. I don’t remember that store ever not having bananas before, but there were no bananas Tuesday night. After I stocked up on the large jars of pickles we purchase at the warehouse store, we added another store to our agenda in order to obtain the bananas. While Gerald gassed the car there, I purchased bananas, grapes, oranges, and strawberries and we were able to return to the farm with our fresh supply of fruit.

That was not a particularly romantic evening although Gerald had suggested we might want to go to a nearby town to a favorite lodge we went to when we were dating. However, we were both tired and a nice local restaurant sounded more appealing than a long drive. And while we were in town, it seemed convenient to accomplish the other tasks.

When you live in the country, you learn to combine errands in town to save gas. That also was one of the first lessons that I learned as a new bride living in a rural four-room “doll house” that we were able to rent for $10 a month. (The landlord decided to knock off $5 rent since Gerald was a student at the time.) We were sitting outside on the little concrete front porch one hot summer night and I suggested we drive into town for an ice cream cone. Cones were five cents in those days. Gerald educated me on how much per mile that it would cost to drive us into town. I quickly decided I did not want a five-cent cone that much. (In all the years that boy friends, including Gerald, had driven me places, I had never once caught on that it cost money for them to run a car. Now that many young women own their own cars these days, they probably cannot imagine my ignorance. I was a little appalled at that ignorance even back then.)

We have been a little more romantic in our anniversary celebrations in some past years; and we may expend a little more planning in some future years. Yet the older we get, the more we simplify. I wouldn’t want to say our marriage is as comfortable as an old shoe because that is definitely a less than romantic description. Let’s just say that we know each other pretty well now and it does not take a great deal of extra effort to please each other.

Jeannie's Back Home!

Jeannie’s back home, and we miss her and Cecelie already. Although they told us good-bye last night, I was sure I would be awakened when Jeannie and Cecelie departed this morning. I had been briefly awake when Gerald was getting ready to leave Woodsong to go on an Angel Flight with his friend Herman. When I awoke again, I thought I better be quiet so as to not wake Jeannie and Cecelie. Then I looked at the clock and saw 8:45 and knew they were likely gone—and they were. They were eager to get home to Freeport and see Elijah who returned from Kentucky yesterday. And, of course, they were missing Rick too. From the frequency of his phone calls yesterday, they had decided he was lonesome for them.

But I have a small sweet wild flower bouquet in a little bottle on my desk. A daisy, some clover—red and white—and a small Queen Anne’s lace blossom and a couple of other miscellaneous stems. Cecelie brought it in yesterday and presented it during an afternoon she spent (as she had the day before) appearing in various ensembles from the “costume closet” of old clothes from long ago. The previous day was spent with her cousin Samuel. That evening after starting to look for fireflies, they had filled the downstairs den with quite a collection of frogs, which they kindly released at the end of their frog hunt.

Since next-door Katie did not seem to be home, for the next two days, Cecelie entertained herself (and consequently also entertained us) dressing up. Using various hats and shoes chosen for her outfits, she looked beautiful in every one of them.

The tattered pink formal was once bought by my sister Rosemary, I believe, for college banquets. Since she and Phil have been married 60 years, that gives you an idea of how old that dress is. Topped with the pink picture hat I wrote about in a 1960s column, the entire attire was ancient but lovely on this l0-year-old granddaughter. Other clothes had been worn by her mother and aunts. One bright skirt had been a long skirt my mother had when long dresses were the fashion, and she wore it to a Christmas party.

From the clothes and stories told, Cecelie (our youngest granddaughter) found out who Gma Katherine was--my mother whom Cecelie’s Aunt Katherine was named after. Summer is the time for families to be connected again and the proper time to share family information with the young generations. Only the oldest two granddaughters ever met my mother, but my mother was aware before her death that Jeannie and Rick were expecting Leslie—their first child. I have always been happy that Mother knew that exciting news.

Leslie and her friend Mike had driven up from Belmont University at Nashville on Saturday while I was working on the Trail of Tears bus tour. Mike placated Cecelie, who really does not like to share her big sister, by watching a movie just with her. Leslie and Mike had to leave Sunday afternoon in time for her to get back to her dorm, where she has a summer job welcoming teens who come in for Centrifuge and other conference guests at Belmont. But we enjoyed their jam session Saturday night while Les and Mike, both guitarists, practiced some of the original songs their band is working on right now. I’d gotten up much too early to get to Golconda that morning, so I fell asleep mid-concert. Nevaertheless, I did enjoy hearing their lovely chords and sounds as I drifted off. I have slept late two days in a row now, so maybe I am caught up on my rest.

Oh, by-the-way, we found out Saturday who owned the strange dog who had been here for over a week. A far-neighbor came to collect his dog Roxie after seeing our sign on the mailbox. Unfortunately, Roxie left Woodsong the day we posted the sign and we have not seen her since. But we have heard from other far-neighbors here in our countryside that she has become known as the “traveling dog” since she goes from neighbor to neighbor to visit.

Jeannie's Here!

Jeannie’s Here!

After finishing end-of-school tasks, middle daughter Jeannie and her daughter Cecelie just arrived from the long drive down from Freeport. We have had our late but brief mother-daughter catch-up chat, and they have gone to bed. I hadn’t turned off the computer yet, so decided I should come down here and blog on schedule.

Elijah could not come because he is in Kentucky with his youth group. Every year the youth go down and conduct a Vacation Bible School there, and they grow very close to the kids in that community. This is Elijah’s second year. Leslie did this for four years, I think. She will be arriving this weekend from her summer job at Belmont to visit her mother and sister here.

Gerald said Mary Ellen phoned and she and Brianna were spending the night in a motel since their Lake Saint Louis home is no longer their own. However, on Facebook, she said the moving van would not be arriving at their new home in rural Waggoner until Monday. After they close on the house on Friday, she and Brian will be doing some painting and lawn landscaping this weekend getting ready for the furniture’s arrival.

There is so much transition in our family right now that my head is spinning trying to keep up with everyone. Geri Ann will be playing softball this weekend in the Lake Saint Louis area, I think, but Mary Ellen and Bri will have gone to the Springfield area by then. No, maybe it is Geri Ann’s older sister Tara who will have a team playing in that area this weekend. (In the past when teams played at those area parks, everyone got to hang out at the Taylors, so we are going to miss that Lake Saint Louis connection!) But I do think I will finally get to see the new Abraham Lincoln Memorial in Springfield now.

Granddaughter Erin has moved to Kississmee, Florida, for the summer to play professional softball with the United States Specialty Softball Association (USSSA) Pride which partners with the National Pro Fastpitch League. I was so excited to learn that Kristin Schnake, just graduated from University of Georgia, has also signed to play with them this summer. Erin and Kristin’s enthusiastic personalities remind me of each other, so those two will have fun playing on the same team this summer. (Actually both Erin and Kristin will have fun wherever they are.)

USSSA Pride flew to Chicago yesterday and opened their season tonight against the Chicago Bandits. So far I have not managed to find out from Twitter if they won. Earlier results were not posted, and now it is storming outside—yes again—so I can’t get on.

Pride has a five-night run with the Bandits, and then a week from tonight, they play at Rockford (near Jeannie in Freeport) for five nights.

My sister and husband, Rosemary and Phil, were married 60 years yesterday. They do not want big parties in their honor, so their children surprised them with a family party on Memorial Day. They loved that. Family is what they are all about. I got to hear about it while we were in Amarillo.

Jeannie came to Woodsong with plans to help us find the owner of the stray dog. It really is a puzzlement why a dog with a collar would suddenly show up and stay around here for two weeks. When we arrived back from vacation, she was limping. But Brian said the previous weekend when she first showed up, she was not. So we do not know what happened to her. Cecelie is eager to meet her, and of course wants us to keep her, but that is not an option, so it is a problematic puzzlement.

Coming and Going at Woodsong

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

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

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

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

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

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

Home Again

While a restful return to normalcy is welcome, the excitement and heightened emotions of the past week are still right under the surface.

We are coming down emotionally from seeing the University of Georgia Bulldogs softball team not only participate in the Women’s College World Series but coming close to making it to the finals. Following that tournament with a trip to Amarillo to visit my sister and her husband and families there gives me even more to think about and to try to absorb. Never mind that there is laundry to do, weeds to pull, and much catching up with our usual life at Woodsong to accomplish.

We arrived at Oklahoma City and settled in on Wednesday, the night before WCWS’s opening game. Our son Gerry and the Georgia team, where he is assistant coach, had arrived early in the week. Our daughter-in-law Vickie had been given permission by her doctor the day before to drive there with Geri Ann, and they were already there. We met up with our daughter Mary Ellen and our granddaughter Brianna at the park at noon on Thursday. From then on, Geri Ann and Brianna were inseparable, and we all enjoyed watching their teenage enthusiasm and antics.

Although University of Washington put us into the losers’ bracket that very first game, we were not discouraged. It takes two losses to be eliminated from this tourney. (Washington ended up winning the World Series the following Tuesday night against first-ranked University of Florida, and we were quite aware that losing that first game was no reason for shame. In fact, at that level, any loss is no cause for shame. Just being there to participate is an honor, but Georgia women were determined to make their first appearance at the WCWS count.)

We were able to enjoy the Friday off that all teams had until that evening when the four winners from Thursday were to play. We met up with our niece Cyndi and her friend Gwen for lunch. It was fun for Geri Ann and Bri to get acquainted just a bit with their dad and mom’s cousin from far-off Hereford, Texas. Of course, we wished that Cyndi’s daughter Tori and husband Randy had been there, since we had not seen them since their wedding in that city five years ago. But if they had been, we would not have seen Cyndi, who was house sitting for them.

Saturday we were to play two losing teams from Friday night. With a second loss, any team would go home. We played our 11 a.m. game against Missouri, who had startled those watching their Super Regional with a mercy rule victory over UCLA. We eliminated Missouri from the World Series with a 5-2 win, and we did the same to Michigan that night with a 7-5 win.

That put us in the Final Four on Sunday. We would play unbeaten Washington, and Alabama would play unbeaten Florida. If Georgia or Alabama--both teams from the losers’ bracket--won their first game, they would have to play and win a second game to send either of these unbeaten teams home.

We were going into Sunday games with our senior pitcher Christie Hamilton worn out from the two games in high heat on Saturday. In an excruciatingly long game, we played Washington from 12 noon until 4:20 in nearly l00 degree weather. We used four different pitchers--including center fielder Taylor Schlopy after Sarah McCloud and a brief stint by Hamilton. Finally, freshman pitcher Erin Arevalo was put in with the score tied at 8-8. In the ninth inning, we loaded the bases and Brianna Hesson battled until a force walk brought fleet-footed Lasaira Daniels calmly to home plate to claim the 9-8 win and the opportunity to play the Huskies again that night after Alabama played Florida.

We wanted to see Alabama play Florida because we had gotten acquainted with Lauren Parker’s grandparents, relatives, and friends sitting in front of us. (Lauren’s life story of injuries and challenges was inspiring as most of these young women’s stories are.) But we had to get out of that heat and we scurried to a place to eat with air conditioning and a ESPN. We even were able to have Gerry with us briefly as he hurried to eat and return to the team.

We were disappointed Alabama lost to Florida, but proud that three teams that day were from the Southeastern Conference. We returned to the park for a 9:30 game and were disappointed again when we played Washington for the third time in this tournament and lost. Washington would win from Florida on Monday and Tuesday nights to become the 2009 champions.

The young Georgia team with only two seniors and no juniors knew it was an achievement to be the only team there that defeated Washington. In fact, the Bulldogs scored more runs against Danielle Lawrie than any other team this year.

My favorite Georgia player was senior Kristin Schnake, who graduated from Nashville, Illinois, high school. She led the team in accepting their defeat with celebration that they had come that far. No one plays harder than Schnake. No one encourages other players more than Schnake. No one has a better attitude than this hard working agriculture student and athlete. No one could have made us prouder than the way the team rejoiced even in defeat.

We would have loved to have stayed for the final two games, but instead we wanted to get on Route 40 to Amarillo. We arrived at Rosemary and Phil’s Monday afternoon and feasted with them and Shiloh at supper. Before our final good-bye visit on Wednesday morning, we had also seen Candy, Gloria and Herman, Jennifer and Trevor, Tosha and Jeremy, Desi, and Eric, and we were able to meet Allie Jean, the l0-month old princess of the Amarillo Parks family. We missed a few of the families including Philip Todd and Jenna and Philip Ray, who are now stationed in Hawaii, where Desi was headed the next morning to spend six weeks with her uncle’s family. But it was a satisfying visit, and we left in cool weather under the big Texas sky with the highway bordered with mesquite and golden fields of wheat ripe unto harvest.

On through the green tree-bordered highways of Oklahoma and Missouri, we enjoyed glorious weather and the cattle on a thousand hills that we passed by. Finally in the flat Missouri Delta, we saw fields of young cotton, rice, and some soybeans. After a bounteous late lunch at a Charleston roadside cafeteria, we were soon in Illinois; and, of course, we drove up to look at Brian’s corn and soybean crops before we returned to Woodsong.

Taking a Break from Woodsong and Trauma of the New Computer....

Yesterday we had company arriving at 4 a.m. and last bunch arriving at 4 p.m., so it was busy but fun around here. Mary Ellen fixed us all biscuits and gravy for breakfast yesterday morning. Then I fixed lunch and I think there were 14 who ate lunch between 2 and 4:30. Ha. At 7 or 8 p.m., the house was suddenly quiet again.


Mary Ellen’s family were down on Saturday to their camper to finish their planting—so they were in and out taking showers, etc. Her husband Brian finished planting his soybeans yesterday after he and Mary Ellen went to Centralia plant and got more seed. He worked late Saturday night expecting to finish and have Sunday off--then ran out of seed unexpectedly at 2 a.m. So he worried about getting more seed on a holiday and was grateful someone was there. He finished yesterday, and then he replanted a tiny bit of corn—but his corn crop looks beautiful.


He starts new job assignment in middle region of Illinois on June 1. He and Trent will stay in their camper up there until their new house becomes available. Mary Ellen and Brianna are going to World Series. Mary Ellen phoned tonight jubilant with the news that their house in Lake Saint Louis sold today. They completely redid the kitchen just to help it sell. She said it was definitely her dream kitchen, but she was not attached to it because she knew she was doing it for someone else. I don’t know how they do everything.


We are almost packed to leave early in the morning for the opening softball game on Thursday at the Women’s College World Series. University of Georgia will play Washington, and some people think Washington will will the tourney. We will see. It is University of Georgia’s first time at the World Series. When these two teams played earlier this year, each team won once.


One of my Texas nieces will also be in Oklahoma City area at the same time we are. She is house and animal sitting for her daughter and husband as daughter in vet school is away in California for some kind of internship or project. I am so pleased that without any planning on our parts, we will get to see each other there.


After Oklahoma tourney, we hope to go on to Amarillo to see my sister and her husband and their children and grandchildren. We’ll see.


My new computer is driving me crazy, but I am sure I will get used to it. The Outlook Express is now in Office Suites—and I can’t get e-addresses to record without individually entering each one by hand. GRRR. Mostly my address book (rather what used to be called address book but now is not) is empty. Very inefficient. I wish I were not so dumb. I wish even more that Outlook Express worked like it used to when it was easy to record e-addresses with a click. GRRRR.


I am glad to be taking a break from breaking in this new machine.


I will write again when we return if not before.

Storm, Software, and Softball

The recent inland hurricane (now being called a derecho) provides a background for life in Southern Illinois. Carbondale alone lost over 3000 trees, and communities in five counties share similar losses. Every roadside woods contain blown-over and uprooted trees in the midst of the surrounding standing trees.

As friends come in contact with one another, the first question is often, “Did you have much damage?” Because we all know of those with destroyed cars and homes, mostof us have to say our damage is small compared to many others.

Nevertheless, the storm changed our landscapes and our lifes and our prioities. Gerald has pitched in and helped other recover since our minor damage has not yet rated the attention of over-worked insurance adjustors.

He has also had to help me cope with my new computer. Now I have to learn to use it. Not everything is “go” yet despite a wonderful neighbor who came over and helped us install some programs. I hope to still find some lost files and to learn the “improvements.”

Softball games have filled our lives as much as the storm has. Last weekend we watched five games switching from seeing Erin and Texas A&M on ESPN in Gainesville, Florida, and sometimes switching to watch Gerry’s Georgia Dogs on game tracker as they played in Chapel Hill, North Carolina.

Georgia started touney play on Thursday and won their regional tournament by Friday. Erin began their regional tourney by making a homerun in the first inning—the only score in their game against Lehigh. In a double-elimination tourney and knowing they would face first-ranked Florida the next morning, we were rejoicing. Then we knew disappointment on Saturday evening to see Erin’s last game in her college career. After the somewhat expected loss to Florida (although they beat them last year in the World Series),they had their second loss against Lehigh that evening. So Lehigh was the team that advanced to play Florida, who won the Central Regional on Sunday. Erin, named an all region catcher, will be playing professional ball this summer before she returns to finish her A&M senior year.

Now we are watching Georgia and Ohio State play for two out of three games in the Super Regional down at Athens, Georgia. Bryan and Tara and the two little boys drove all night to arrive for this game.

Excitedly Awaiting New Computer

Yesterday we went to Carbondale, and I had my old computer checked out and bought a new one. It was the monitor gone bad as I suspected. However, the computer was old, and I figured while I was in the mood, it was time to go ahead and purchase a new one--hopefully the last I ever have to buy. (Hmmm. We will see how that plays out.)

Just getting all those wires untangled and the computer unhooked to take to the store was a big job; putting it all back together seemed daunting although Gerald would probably have helped as he installed it the first time.

I am at home now trying to clean my office a bit (an overwhelming impossibility for someone who collects paper) in preparation for the new computer's arrival. Gerald has gone for an eye exam and will bring the computer home. I am very excited. (Despite how I dread learning anything new. I do not like change.)

I need to leave my husband's computer now and go upstairs and put a roast in the oven for our evening meal since he is not to be here for lunch. I told my daughter after last night at Sam's wonderful 6th grade band concert that I'd bring them dinner tonight. She is getting her Tysabri infusion this afternoon that had to be postponed last week because of remaining infection from a pulled tooth. She is so very weak that I am praying the infusion will strengthen her again.

Maybe I will be ready to blog again in a day or two.

The Calm After the Storm

Most Southern Illinoisans now have electricity, and life is returning to somewhat normal. One dog who refused to sleep where he was when the storm hit is now willing to return to his proper house. Some kids will go back to school tomorrow, but some communities haven’t opened their schools yet. People are having to clean out freezers full of spoiled food. The sound of chain saws fill the air. Tempers flare easily. Emergency rooms are tending to people injured doing clean-up. Gerald says that the trees with huge roots still on them are really difficult and tricky to deal with and make the chain saws more dangerous than usual.

This note from a writer friend is probably pretty typical of most folks’ situation: “The house was spared, but we lost at least half of our trees, including one we had planted 2 years ago. (It was crushed by another tree.) We were in the Minneapolis area when it happened. Our son, who lives out by Lake of Egypt was able to come over and unload our freezer and save the major freezer stuff. It will take me all summer to get the yard cleaned up.”

Everyone is grieving lost trees but very grateful that rather amazingly there was only one fatality.

Since our village of Crab Orchard did have electricity turned back on last night, it was decided to not cancel our annual women’s banquet at church this Friday night. I just got home an hour or so ago from helping Kim Barger and Sharon Odom decorate the downstairs dining room.

Our speaker is artist Marie Samuel, who has done a lot of research and art work with aprons. So now we have aprons—beautiful ones, utilitarian ones, well worn ones, and never-used fancy ones—all over the walls. The sweetest apron of all is one the right size for a four-year-old, which was made for Sharon when she was about that age.

One apron I took over has this story pinned on it: “Cheryl Hall worked in Center’s Vacation Bible School the year of her wedding. Cheryl asked two of the students in her class--Tom Richey and Gerry Glasco-- to be in her wedding to Noel Bascom, which was at Center Baptist Church on July 10, 1970. Cheryl and her mother Betty Hall asked Helen Richey and Sue Glasco to serve at the reception held in the educational building--with all the folding doors open making a nice reception area. Helen and Sue were given these pretty hostess aprons to wear while serving.” The apron reminds me of the two special deceased friends, Betty and Helen, and a young bride who is now a grandmother living in Springfield, Missouri. And the two young boys are middle-aged men living in Florida and Georgia.

The tables are pretty with pink gingham cloths and special napkins and little apron refrigerator magnet favors someone had made for us. Candles inside white vases donated after a special young lady’s wedding grace the tables. With the lids off, the candles are already filling the air with the smell of vanilla. Sharon is planning on going to Stevens tomorrow for some rose runners to put between the candles. You can rest assured they will be stored afterwards for future parties.

We’ve developed an inexpensive way to decorate at our village church by choosing a theme and then asking everyone to bring whatever fits the theme. With minimum expense, we can usually turn the dining room into whatever atmosphere we want to create. The stories and the memories evoked are always enjoyed. I especially enjoyed the ancient antique can of Old Dutch Cleanser that Kim brought. The familiar hard-working wooden-shoed woman in her apron reminds me of the respect that good housekeeping brought to women whose homes were their careers.

An Ill Wind

At 1 a.m. on Friday, we woke up with terrible noises pounding on our roof and against the many windows. Wind and lightening were as bad as I could remember and the hail as large as I had ever seen. Not quite golf ball size nor was the hail covering the ground like some images I have seen on television reports—but as large as a quarter and as scary as I have experienced. Both Gerald and I were wide awake because of the noise, and we walked around looking out the windows and out at the sidewalk at the hail. Deciding there was nothing to do about it and observing that the house was withstanding the noisy attack, we went back to bed and slept soundly until the next morning when we finished packing and headed on our trip to Erin’s conference tourney at Oklahoma City. Everything looked great at Woodsong when we left at 8:30 after our breakfast.

In Missouri we drove through heavy rainfall for a long time and knew it was headed in the direction we had left. The first phone call came after lunch. Our next-door neighbor phoned to say there had been some high winds that blew a big tree down on their Katie’s play house and that we had some shingles off. Scott said not to worry he was checking the roof and if needed, he would patch it up so there’d be no leak in the house. We’d left garage windows open to keep garage cool, and Scott said the wind had evidently whipped in and bowed the garage door slightly behind our pickup—but nothing serious.

An hour or so later, our daughter Katherine phoned. She started out very calm thanking me for some help I’d given them during the week and saying they were enjoying the good leftovers of some food I’d brought. I was waiting to tell her the excitement about our roof damage. Before I had a chance and after she’d skillfully made sure that I was all calm and would be thinking everything was good with her family, she launched into the account of the inland hurricane that hit Southern Illinois. (Our neighbors had not been to town yet when they phoned about our roof.)

Katherine and her aide Beth had heard and watched one big tree after another at the park next door falling over. The master bedroom in their house was designed to look out on those beautiful trees—one of which was a huge fir and a favorite of her and Sam. (As he pointed out, it had been there outside his bedroom window through his entire life.) Windows on the other side of their bedroom look out on the back yard, which also has always been special with ancient trees both in their yard and on the city alley immediately behind their fence.

Although she and Beth went into their large windowless bath that accommodates her wheelchair, they could hear the trees falling one by one. The lovely old tree in the neighbor’s yard on the other side of the back yard came crashing down destroying their fence and the gazebo roof. The remainder of the tree is still hanging precariously there. The front yard had only one tree, and it was mangled so much that it had to be cut down today. Beth left to go pick up her daughters from school and had called a half hour later and was stranded by tree limbs and downed wires from reaching the school—ordinarily five minutes away. This much Katherine knew when she phoned, and our few missing shingles seemed tame in comparison.

Then the phone reports kept coming. Scott and Sonja drove to Marion, and were astounded to see all the destruction there and the big trees in Ray Fosse Park uprooted and on the ground. Our nephew’s wife working at Southern Illinois University Carbondale had been herded with other employees to the basement and could not believe the devastation when they were allowed to come back up. The softball coach at SIUC talked to our son and told about the many large old trees on campus being uprooted and lying on the ground. Evidently the ground was so saturated that the 120 mile per hour winds simply pushed the big trees over and their six-foot circumference root systems came out with the trees leaving behind a huge hole.

Many roads were not passable and Interstate 57 was closed that night because of the trees and limbs. A four-county area was without electricity and land phone service was no more. (Places to charge cell phones became very valuable. Towns affected have curfews yet tonight.) However, Scott was taking care of our roof and our daughter Mary Ellen and Brian and kids were going down on Saturday and they would hook up a generator for the fridge and freezer. David’s friend had loaned him and Katherine his generator, and Brian said he’d bring his down also.

Conference tourneys were not kind to “our” two teams. Seventh-ranked Georgia was upset by Tennessee in their first game on Thursday down in Knoxville, and they were, therefore, out of the tourney. Consequently, our son Gerry left to see a high school game in Dallas and another game in Oklahoma City, so we connected with him and he got to see Erin play with Texas A&M against Baylor on Saturday morning.

Since A&M had beaten Baylor twice during the season, we expected to play again at 5 that night and hoped to play for the championship after that. Not to be. A&M did not play their best, and Baylor beat us and we were out of the Big 12 Conference Tournament. None of us felt celebratory as we tried to console each other before Erin had to leave with the team for lunch. We did enjoy seeing D. J. Mathis pitch an inning on the field still playing around the corner. However, the next day Missouri put an end to our hopes if we could not win the conference that D.J. and Oklahoma would.

We had a lovely dinner down in Bricktown Saturday evening on an outdoor patio with Erin and with Gerry before he drove all night back to Dallas to catch a plane home to Atlanta. We kept congratulating Erin on making the Big 12’s first team as catcher, but she’d rather have beaten Baylor and stayed in town. She was to leave for College Station and her two remaining final exams at 6 a.m. the next morning. Nevertheless, we had a good visit and a good time with each other.

We went to bed early and left at 5:30 on Sunday morning dreading what we were going to find when we returned to the storm zone. A sweet older lady, who laughed a great deal, presented me and the other woman in their restaurant at breakfast with a carnation for Mother’s Day. Later I got Mother’s Day phone calls from the kids. We unexpectedly connected with Mary Ellen and Brian, Trent and Bri as they returned through Saint Louis after they had spent the weekend helping at our house and Katherine’s, so we had a fine 3 p.m. Mother’s Day dinner at the second restaurant we found next door to the first one we went to. (The first one was going to have a 45 minute wait.)

We shared and re-hashed all the stories Gerry and we had heard by phone about the hurricane and listened to the first-hand information from the Taylors. People were thinking it might be two weeks before all the power was back on. The talk did nothing to relieve our dread of having to see what was coming even though our house and Katherine and David’s house were both in good shape in comparison to the many that had a big tree land on their roof.

We were in Marion before dark and drove through the limbs lining the trees watching out low lines overhead. People took turns patiently where traffic lights did not work. As soon as we had checked on the Cedars, we came on to Woodsong, ate peanut butter and crackers for supper and sat on the deck until the outside light was gone. We went to bed in deep country darkness, and Gerald planned to reconnect the generator this morning.

Very soon the land phone rang. Our neighbor was telling us that our Rural Electric Association power was back on. Gerald turned on the main switches on the control panel in the garage that had to be turned off when the generator had been running for the freezers. He stayed up and I went back to bed after enjoying the electric lights that got me there instead of my flashlight.

Today the truncated newspaper, which had to be printed in Paducah, Kentucky, during the emergency, carried photos of the damage and of many of the volunteers and workers pouring in to help. Rather amazingly, it is being predicted most people will have electricity by midnight tomorrow. Feeding stations are set up in all the area towns, and there is a great deal of backyard grilling going on. David took Sam and Beth’s daughter Emily uptown and came home with tacos for all the gang as some establishments must have alternate generators. Gerald and David worked in the back yard wielding chain saws on all the fallen trees there. I cleaned off the bits and pieces of leaves beaten against the back windows as Mary Ellen had to do for our front door.

David’s workplace and the colleges and schools are all closed at least until Wednesday, and people are hard at work repairing damages. Today was beautiful, but rain is predicted. Most houses are just fine, which makes it especially painful when you see those that will never be livable again. We stopped at Kroger’s on our way out of town and a friend appeared just as I was leaving. She had come in to get repair supplies for her husband. “I need a hug,” she said. “My bed has a tree in it.”




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