Ready or Not, January Is Over and February Is Here

The lake is green-tinted blackish now and completely thawed after the previous few days of melting swirls of silver ice still lingering there. A flock of wild ducks came in on Sunday and a few were still swimming there when I looked out our bedroom window this morning. There are no longer any small spots of snow left over in shady places; all is brown. We had an absolutely beautiful warm final January weekend here in Southern Illinois.

But like much of the nation, we are threatened with the possibility of blizzard-like conditions tomorrow. So the landscape may turn white again. Gerald has an appointment with his truck early in the morning. I’m supposed to take Sam to the orthodontist before lunch, and Katherine has an appointment for a Tysabri infusion in the afternoon. We’ll see whether the weather permits us to keep our appointments.

Although we had seen several cardinals, a blue jay, and a woodpecker back when the snow was on, I was again seeing only the small birds at the feeder that Gerald keeps on the deck. Today, however, I saw one bright red cardinal, the blue jay, and another big black and brown bird I did not recognize. I had to wonder if they knew they better fill up in case the blizzard comes. When they left, the six little sparrows, who had been waiting, had their breakfast. The prettiest sight was when I went downstairs to the computer and saw a pair of doves on the lawn enjoying the grain that had dropped down from the deck above them.

On Saturday mid-morning, Gerald came in from his shop that he has been busy reorganizing. He had worked too many hours on the concrete the day before, and was ready to let that project go for awhile. I had started several things—bed stripped, laundry going, meat thawing for lunch, but I was still relaxing at the breakfast table in my pajamas slowly reading the morning’s paper. He needed to go to Carbondale to an office supply store and to Lowe’s to get some dowel rods he can only get there and asked if I’d want to go, and if so, how soon could I be ready?

With that challenge, I quickly stuck the thawing meat in the fridge for Sunday, jumped into some clothes, and collected the Christmas gift card for the J.C. Penney card that I needed to spend and I was ready in record time. Never mind that I’d have to finish the bed with clean sheets and fold the laundry when I got back. I had left my purse at Katherine’s accidently on Thursday, so we met up there, and I climbed into the truck.

We took the long way to Carbondale so he could show me where Erin is living in Cambria even though we thought she would already be at softball practice. In my rush to the truck, I forgot my coat in the car, but was glad I did since I really did not need it. We saw children playing outside in shirt sleeves as we drove through Cambria. We took some unfamiliar back roads to reach Carbondale where we stopped for lunch before Gerald dropped me off to shop while he did his errands.

I couldn’t resist the sale racks, but I can’t stand anything with a high neckline and so all the turtle neck stuff was passed over, some colors were wrong for me, and some of the other garments had much too low necklines when I tried them on after I finally was able to find a dressing room. It has been years since I had been to that particular store, and I was totally surprised at how I kept finding new rooms with these sales going on. I think I was going in a circle. I felt confused and disoriented and even though I was not buying jewelry, I tried to keep aware of where the jewelry department was just so I felt a little less lost.

I had my arms full of a second batch of clothes to try on if I could only find a dressing room again, when Gerald phoned to say he was done and how was I doing. I was relieved when he said he would come on inside and visit the men’s department. So I finished before he did and sat resting in the mall lounge outside the store. By then I really needed that rest.

Gerald came out a few minutes later with two new pair of trousers that were on sale. I had bought three items during all his errand completion at other stores. Obviously he is a more efficient shopper than I am. I really had intended to go to the household/kitchen department but hadn’t found it until I wandered there by mistake with the last load of clothes over my arm looking for that dressing room. All three garments that I bought were on sale for $4.98, so I still have most of my gift card left to spend later! That was fun. Next time maybe I will find the right department to begin with.

Grown Grandchildren and Life's Changes

Yesterday was Elijah’s 18th birthday. His mother’s comment on Facebook that she now had another adult child made me wake up to how old I am! Soon Trent will also be 18. It all seems kinda amazing this passing of time! We were so excited when these two grandsons were expected. Trent was supposed to be born first, and Elijah about two weeks later. I kept worrying that Trent would be a week late and Elijah early and they’d be born on the same day states away from each other, and I would be torn wanting to be with both new babies and their mothers.

But totally unexpected, Elijah came six weeks early in a most dramatic way. Jeannie had to persuade Leslie to quit watching her television program. Then she drove herself to the hospital with little Leslie because it took awhile for Rick’s boss to locate him and send him to the Marion Hospital just in time for Elijah’s arrival. (I bet he speeded getting there!)

Fortunately, Leslie’s Aunt Vickie was working at the hospital and was able to take charge of her when Jeannie arrived needing to be admitted immediately. I will never forget Gerald calling me on the farm radio while I was driving home from work in Benton. (No one had cell phones in those days.) By this time, Gerald had Leslie and Erin, I think, and they were headed to the Dairy Queen. I almost went into a state of shock, and it did not help when I saw Elijah with oxygen all warm in an incubator when I arrived at the hospital. Fortunately, he was fine, and they were back at their Crainville home with little delay.

Leslie has just posted some photos of those early days in Crainville on Facebook, and I have enjoyed again those two beautiful children that I said were our artist Jeannie’s masterpieces. (Of course, she outdid herself again with the birth of Cecelie up in Freeport, who was special born on her great grandmother Ada Glasco’s birthday.}

I realized it then, but even more now I realize how blessed I was that the Eilers lived in Southern Illinois during the early days of their family and that we were able to share more of those beginning times for Les and Lige. Despite the distance to Freeport, we actually saw Cecelie fairly often during her first couple of years, but that is no longer true. A couple of frightening winter trips while we watched nearby cars spin in circles on the icy highway put an end to trying to be present for Elijah’s January birthday and other winter trips.

Being between Freeport and Nashville while Leslie is in college has really been a joyous thing for us, and I am already concerned about the end of that privilege. Lige pointed out to his cousin Sam, however, that he will be three hours closer to us next year when he starts at Illinois State.

Yesterday I drove to Carbondale for a check up appointment for my new hearing aids. Although I am grateful for the improvement in my hearing, having to add those as well as glasses when I dress each morning re-enforces my age awareness. The only reason I don’t have to put on dentures is that I learned over 40 years ago that I could not tolerate the partial I obtained back then.

As much as having all these grown grandkids—five of them after Trent’s upcoming birthday--these old-age aids plus the increased nervousness about climbing on the footstools that a short person has to keep in several rooms make me take stock that times are changing. That is just the way it is supposed to be.

But I missed Cristaudo’s Café and Bakery, my favorite lunch place on the strip mall yesterday since its long-time family owners have retired. SoI treated myself to a visit to a long ago favorite gift store at that mall--The Apple Tree. I knew the ownershp had changed and the store was enlarged, but it was missing the china and crystal that brides used to register for there. A sweet dog wandered around sniffing at people’s feet, and that was a fun change. I didn’t find anything I couldn’t live without, so that was a changen from the past.

Since two or three years ago, the Neighborhood Co-op moved across town to this strip, I also treated myself to a walk-through there looking at all the fruits and vegetables and interesting items. I was rewarded by bumping into Marion Carroll that I knew from my John A, Logan teaching days. Although younger than I am, she too has retired and has returned from taking care of her mother in Australia, who died at 99 years old. It was good to see her and renew our acquaintance. I bought some cilantro and a loaf of their wheat bread and had had all the change I wanted.

Since Cristaudo’s was no longer available, I came back to Marion to eat at Honeybaker’s, my favorite lunch place there. I can get a cup of their always delicious soup with a luscious hot roll and have water served in a glass with a slice of lemon. (That thick glass filled with ice and water is a visual treat.) I can rest in the quietness there as I eat, and I’ll be refreshed in less than a half an hour and ready for the next set of errands. Yesterday, however, even though I ate after the regular lunch hour, the place was full. The quiet I expected was replaced with chatter and laughter, and for the first time I was aware of, music was playing in the background adding to the clamor. I made a conscious choice to not mind the change. I was glad for their increased business and pleased that the hurried waitress was as kind and thoughtful as always. I figure if I learn to enjoy change, maybe I can stay some of the stress of aging.

Frozen Lake, Winter Illnesses, Friday Night Fish, and Church Potlucks

The lake beside our house has been a changing collage of black and white throughout the week. The frozen places are covered with white snow; the unfrozen water is black. When the snow melts—despite the below-freezing temperatures this week--we seem to have black and silver areas throughout the lake looking like the drawings in a notebook of some bored student doodling and filling in loops and lines with a black ball-point pen.

Since her coughing and congestion were not better, Gerald took Katherine to the doctor on Monday for fear she might have caught the viral pneumonia of an aide who had to be off-work with it. The doctor called Katherine’s problem bronchitis, and this stopped our worry about the pneumonia. The doctor gave her a stronger antibiotic to stop the one remaining infection. Oddly after her first dose, she completely lost her voice the very next day, but it was back on Wednesday although she was hoarse. But she is improving and is much stronger than she was a week ago. Sam has been hoarse all week, but he wasn’t about to go to the doctor and he is better also by today. Most schools in our area had two snow days this week, but Sam’s school only had one on Friday.

With all the snowy roads—mostly cleared off by Friday—Gerald surprised me by asking if I could go to Fox’s Holler for fish if he could arrange it with his brothers and our friends Bill and Mickey Tweedy. Gerald’s brothers and wives have a regular date to do this, but Garry was probably wise not to go this week so soon after his shoulder surgery. But Keith and Barbara and the Tweedys were up for Foxy’s fish. We met the Tweedys in the Wal-Mark parking lot at Anna to ride down together. The men let us out as close as possible to the door and went on to park in the crowded lot. Mickey laughingly said we could hold hands over the icy part of the walk inside so that if one of us fell, we could both fall. I wasn’t sure of her logic, but the safety precaution worked and we did not fall.

Flu, pneumonia, and the like are rampant in the community, and lots of folks did not get to go to church today. Nevertheless, we had a full house in our village church, and most stayed for the annual January potluck after the morning service. Our friend Eddy from Orient was there despite being in pain from a strained back.

When I saw he was there, I realized I had not thought to make the baked beans he always brags on and that I often send home with him. So I sent home some of my left-over German chocolate cake for him and Angie, who was at home or maybe with her daughter who is out of the hospital but on bed rest until her baby is born. I knew that was a favorite kind of cake for Eddy, and I felt bad I hadn’t made him baked beans.

I still had some cake to take to Katherine’s house when I visited this afternoon along with some of the fried chicken the church had furnished for the potluck. Our friend Charlene suggested I take some of her delicious chicken and dumplings to Katherine’s house. Charlene had made two crock pots full of them for all of us, and they were almost all gone. Although he and his dad had eaten lunch at the town’s most bountiful buffet after morning church, Sam sure did enjoy the chicken and dumplings
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When he was just a teen, Eddy asked me how I made my baked beans. Since I never make them the same way twice, I stumbled around trying to remember what nearly empty catsup and bottled dressings I had rinsed out and added that particular day—and did I use molasses or brown sugar? Sweet pickle juice? Real onion or onion flakes?

Shortly after that, Eddy took off for Michigan and was away a few years. When he came back, he repeated to me how I made my baked beans and bragged on them again. Loving the flattery, I tried to take baked beans to potlucks that I thought he might be attending. And often German chocolate cake to send some home with him.

Quite frankly, my beans are not that good , which I make the easy way from canned pork and beans.. However, thanks to Eddy, that is probably my only signature dish that I have ever developed a reputation for. (And that reputation is only with Eddy.) I did fix a big skillet full of friend okra that I used to make especially for Pam White, and I noticed Dean Newbold was happy to see okra on the bountiful buffet. Maybe I’ll get a reputation at church for my okra, which my grandchildren are always generous to praise.

Since Katherine was so much stronger, I helped David get her ready for Sunday evening services at their church in Marion. We got to hear our friend Wendell Garrison again, and we were happy to worship with her, David, and Sam. It was a nice ending to a good day.

Winter Time

Walking towards the grocery store after finally finding a parking place in the very full lot, I met a young woman coming towards me from the store laughing and shaking her head. “Is it bad in there?” I asked knowingly. “Bad!” was her reply. Everyone was stocking up before the predicted snow tomorrow. The kids are all hoping for another snow day.

I’ve not blogged because it seemed to me that all I had to tell about was the same repeated activities I wrote about last week. Only this week it was Gerald’s brother Garry that had surgery on his shoulder, but he didn’t have to stay at the hospital over night. That was good since Ginger gets very anxious when evening comes if Garry is not home as soon as she hopes. Their daughter Vicki took him to Cape Girardeau for the surgery while Ginger’s aide Alice stayed with her. We were relieved to find by a phone call to Vicki that he had done well while she was waiting for him to be out of recovery.

Tonight I found out that Vicki had been reporting the day’s events on Facebook—but I didn’t know it as I did not have time to get on the computer. I was busy with numerous details of life that seemed to pile up over the holidays. I have finally faced going over my medical bills, Medicare reports, and insurance papers saying, “This is not a bill”—a huge stack of papers and unopened envelopes. I know I should be very grateful that Gerald and I are relatively healthy and our bills our tiny. I really am grateful and ashamed that I gripe.

But I get in a foul mood trying to figure out all those papers and what they mean. I am not smart enough to understand them. It is not enough to pay a deductible when I leave the doctors’ offices. Little bills seem to dribble in—maybe for $7 or $3.02 or $13. And these come from so many sources—doctors’ group practices, medical centers, anesthetist, labortories. The medical organizations are like the banks—using names that I cannot keep track of, so I have to look at dates to figure out what the bills and papers are about. From far-away cities, the bills come in months after the actual health care.

I look back with fondness for my uninsured days when I wrote a small check using the name of the doctor at the end of an appointment and that was that. Although I could not afford medical care now without insurance, I dislike having insurance corporations involved with my health care. I do not like their making money from my trying to stay healthy. As I sit at the dining room table writing checks, I grow more and more frustrated trying to figure out what all my bills mean, and I envision their executives riding around in private jets, eating expensive meals, and not caring that I have to spend 44 cents on a stamp to pay $7 for something I thought was already paid for. As I said, I am ashamed I am griping, but I know the complexity of today’s medical care is not cost efficient nor well thought out.

Brightening my mood this week, however, was the discovery of my mother’s scrapbooks that I had forgotten all about. I was trying to clean up a far bottom shelf in my office and found them, and that was the end of my straightening. Now they are all out of place instead of stored away where I had forgotten them. I stayed up way past my bedtime two nights in a row feasting on the information and memories in her scrapbooks and marveling at the diversity of her interests. I thought I might write more about them, but again it is way past my bedtime, and I better hush.

A Busy and Sad Week

Most people agree that time goes faster as one ages, so I guess time will never drag for me. However, I would really choose for January to be a long slow month without much going on—a time to hibernate, to rest up and absorb all the good things that happened over the holidays, to stay inside from the cold and to read lots of books. As delightful as that fantasy is, reality is much different. It seems that one week tumbles into another with not much time between Sundays. January is now half over, and I wish it were not.

I have continued making phone calls to community people who have told me about Cherokee ancestors. I’ve written notes in response to some Christmas mail, and sadly I’ve also had to write three sympathy notes. Katherine has been fighting infections this week, which made her multiple scleroses exacerbate, so Gerald and I have visited there more than usual. My brother had to have cardiac catherization followed by two stints and two days in the hospital, but I did not even consider driving to Springfield because of the slick roads up there. Because I wanted to help pack the “Angel Bags” that the churches in our rural community send home with kids on the weekend if they are likely to go hungry, I made the effort to go to midweek prayer and Bible study even though I was late for the 6 p.m. service. This is our church’s month. With many hands participating assembly-line style, it did not take long to fill the 29 bags the school said were needed.

Like the rest of the nation, I have grieved as I listened to the newscasts about the Tucson tragedy. My heart has broken thinking of the fiancée of Gabe Zimmerman and the parents of Christina—two beautiful people cut down so early in life, but I have also grieved for the parents of the assassin. None of us can even imagine what they may have gone through long before this terrible tragedy as they watched their son change and deteriorate. While most people with a mental illness are not harmless to others, a few are. The Tucson massacre should stir us for more research and more efforts to prevent such tragedies.

I was comforted by the enormous gathering of mourners and President Obama’s address at the memorial service for Judge John Roll, Christina-Taylor Green, Dorothy Morris, Gabe Zimmerman, Dorwin Stoddard, and Phyllis Schneck. I was cheered by his news that Representative Gabrielle Giffords had opened her eyes that afternoon. I was inspired by his urging that we make Christina’s death cause us to work for a better nation.

Tara's Blog--"OH BOYS"

Want to see our beautiful great grandsons? Check out Tara’s new blog:

•OH BOYS...: Lunch with Daddy....
http://archibald5.blogspot.com/

Check Out New Blog About Haiti

I have trouble with modern stuff, but I am trying to see if I can post Tori Danae Huftalin's new blog. She is my son-in-law Brian and wife Mary Ellen's neice. She will soon be going to Haiti as a nurse. You can follow her work on this blog called For the Passion of Survival:

http://heartforhurting.blogspot.com/

A Productive Week

Although I learned long ago that I will never get “caught up”--whatever that means--this week has been a productive beginning to January.

The Christmas trees and decorations are down and put away. (I do not doubt that just like in other years, I will be surprised someday to find a stray candle or some other seasonal item still waiting and wondering why it was left behind. It is not unusual long after Easter to find a egg—hopefully plastic-- or stray bits of purple or green grass peeking out from some unexpected place.) But as far as I know, all the decorations are stored for another year, and January visual plainness is a restful relief after December excess.

I received my first hearing aids on Tuesday, and they are working very well. I am really surprised. Although I wanted to hear better for years, this was the first time someone had said I could be helped. I had decided maybe I just had a processing problem, and I still suspect that I do. I was tested before Christmas and made this appointment to take the aids for a trial. I almost cancelled this appointment thinking I should not waste the technician’s time nor my time. I figured hearing aides would drive me nutty.Gerald says if I wasn’t born with something, I can’t handle it.

That is the truth about dentures, necklaces, and earrings. Until my eyes really got bad, that was also the way it was with my glasses. I would evidently be bothered by them and unconsciously take them off, and later I would have no idea where they were. As long as Mary Ellen, our youngest, lived at home, that was not too big a problem. I could ask her if she had seen them, and she would have noticed their location and retrieve them for me.

After she left home, I suffered until my eyes needed the glasses to see all the time, and somehow then I adjusted to them. I still lose them when I open an oven door and they steam over and I yank them off and leave them in some weird place in the kitchen. But most of the time, they stay on my face and I don’t feel too uncomfortable wearing them. I thought maybe—just maybe—if I tried real hard I could adjust to hearing aids, so I kept the appointment. Gerald was kind enough to take me to Carbondale since this is his technician also and he had recommended him.

Nevertheless, from what I had heard others say about background noises with hearing aids, I was not very hopeful I could stand them. However, I have not been bothered at all. In the car, there are noisy turn signal beeps and windshield wiper swishes, which are now more of a loud thump than swish when the wiper hits the far left. But once I realized what the sounds were and that all was well, these are not unpleasant sounds. I do not feel the tiny aids in my ears at all, so I am not pulling them off. I think I am going to like these little modern technological gems.

Wednesday was the monthly senior citizen day at the grocery store, and it a crowded and challenging time. I appreciate the discount but am usually too tired afterward to finish putting up the groceries until the next day.

Thursday is my day to pick grandson Sam up from his trombone lesson after school, so I told my son-in-law David that I’d start seeing they had something for supper that night giving him one night a week that he doesn’t have to think about that. So I fixed a big pot of spaghetti sauce at home for our supper and had plenty to carry in for theirs to put over the whole wheat spaghetti I bought the day before.

Friday was the first Women’s Club meeting for 2011, and we enjoyed lunch at O’Charley’s to start the new year. After a few errands in town, I was back at the farm hoping that Leslie would arrive from upstate before the temp dropped and roads got slick. There was still enough spaghetti to feed the three of us, and I was grateful when I saw her car lights coming down our lane arriving to spend the night on her trip back to campus in Tennessee.

Leslie is always fun, and she is a fan of old musicals. I loved hearing about the Eiler Christmas and watching State Fair with her after Gerald went to bed. I saw that movie as a child or teen and had not seen it since. She was the only one here, so she was able to sleep in everyone’s favorite bedroom--what we call the brown room—the only underground bedroom in the house. It is like a cave in there, and I did not see her again until lunch time Saturday. I felt good she was fully rested to start the long drive on down to her dorm where she was reporting for duty as a resident fellow at 5 that evening.

Before she left, the three of us had a bowl of home-made vegetable beef soup and “lunch surprises” for dessert. Actually I had made them as “breakfast surprises” but with the sleeping in, we did not eat them until lunch. I had not made these for many years. They were sort of a joke when our kids lived at home. I put a little butter, brown sugar, and nuts or coconut in the bottom of a muffin pan and topped them with canned biscuits. It took awhile for our kids to catch on that “breakfast surprises” and “supper surprises” were the same thing. This time I used Apriva for the sweetener and Gerry’s gift of Georgia pecans, and they were good.

David had meetings all weekend because of a Monday deadline at his plant, so I went out to Katherine’s Saturday evening as well as making my usual Sunday afternoon visit today. Gerald stayed home and was able to visit with Erin and her cousin Sarah when they came to the farm to pick up Erin’s dog Sadie, whom Gerald had cared for while Erin was in Arizona.

Since David was at work, Gerald came out in the late afternoon to help Katherine make it to the parent meeting for Sam’s youth group at their church. Their church has just called Wendell Garrison, a dear friend of ours, to be there for interim pastor. Gerald and Wendell were college roommates the year before we were married, and they still act silly when they get together.

We have not lived close enough to see each other too often down through the years, but we have always kept up with each other as much as we could. We used to receive Wendell’s weekly sermons through the mail, and we have his devotional books. We enjoy his annual Christmas letter, which always impresses me with its brevity that includes an amazing amount of information about their blended family that was created after both Wendell and Mary lost their first spouses. (I keep trying to imitate his letter and failing.)

So tonight after we dropped Katherine and Sam off for the youth meeting, Gerald and I grabbed a bite to eat nearby and were able to return to the church to hear Wendell preach for the first time in many years. It was a fine ending to the first full week of January.

Beginning a New Year and Back to Normal

All of our families are back home now to their individual bailiwicks.

Tara, Bryan, and the boys arrived at Woodsong Saturday night quite exhausted from their drive up from Georgia. The oldest and youngest son had slept, but the middle son, two-year-old Maddux, had been awake and unhappy almost the entire trip. He had just gone to sleep when they were almost here, and they were afraid of what would happen when he got woke up so soon. Tara said they almost kept driving towards Chicago, but they had pecans in the car that her dad had sent up for his aunts, so they pulled off for the night at the farm. Although he did wake up unhappy when they carried him in and cried again for a bit, Maddux and everyone were soon asleep.

We enjoyed a good visit with them the next morning. Before daybreak, Gerald and Aidan were out riding Gerald’s new John Deere Gator that he bought after he sold the“mule.” Maddux woke up happy as a lark and soon joined them. (He was not happy about leaving the farm, however, so I am hoping their trip home was not as difficult as coming up had been.)

Payton is almost always smiling, and I got to hold him a bit although he adores being held by his mother. Erin came over to visit with them too. They wanted to get on the road again when we left for church in order to reach their home and get another good night’s sleep before their work routine began this morning.

I loved hearing Tara tell about their anniversary trip to Savannah while Gerry and Vickie cared for the boys in Athens. Bryan and she had walked all over the city seeing as many of the 21 beautiful squares as possible, and they’d had a great lunch at Paula Deen’s restaurant. Tara described the city so well that I felt as if I’d made the trip. Gerald was in and out of that city once with a truck, but I have never been. Now it is on my wish-to-do list.

As I headed out to Sunday School, I grabbed the crock pot out of the fridge, slid it into its electric container, and turned it on. I wanted to leave it reheating our New Year’s ham and beans for our lunch. I’d saved the Christmas ham bone for the beans, which had cooked all Saturday afternoon while Gerald and I ran around visiting his two brothers and wives down in Union County—our home country. We had the ham and beans with corn bread for supper Saturday night, and there was plenty still for our lunch and also a little bowl of beans to take in to the Cedars.

Gerald and I had visited with Katherine and David Sunday afternoon, and the two men worked on the wheelchair footrest again. It is still not perfect, but Gerald hopes they are getting there. Gerald also is following a more complicated wheelchair project with Larry Cheek of Ullin, who likes to experiment and invent. Larry has had surgery, so that project is temporarily on hold right now—though Larry is always thinking, thinking, thinking. Gerald and Larry have a trip planned to seek out a more comfortable seat for the chair that Larry is working on.

We ate a Sunday night sandwich, checked emails and Facebook connections, watched some television and went on to bed after Mary Ellen called that their family was just nearing Chattanooga. I made sure there were clean towels in the downstairs bathroom and left the light on for them at the downstairs walk-out door before I went to bed on the first floor. I wanted to leave the Christmas tree lights burning, but I didn’t since I don’t like to sleep with tree lights on. They came in at 3 a.m. and had collapsed in beds as soon as possible. We did not even hear them.

Although I kept sleeping, I did hear Brian before six this morning quietly leave after he gathered an accumulation of stuff to take back home in his truck. They had left brief cases and boxes and presents in the corner of their upstairs bedroom when they took off the day after Christmas for Florida to visit Brian’s mother at The Villages. He and Fifi were headed for work today in central Illinois. (Their family had driven down on Christmas Eve in two vehicles since Brian needed the truck here for some farm purposes. It has been a long slow drive down that night seeing cars in ditches all along the way and wondering if someone might slide into them at any moment. Being careful made it much later than normal when they arrived to eat supper at 11 that night.)

This morning Mary Ellen, Trent, and Brianna were able to sleep in. But I was still in my pajamas when Mary Ellen joined me in the kitchen for toast and cereal, and I was able to hear about their family visits and their anniversary celebration at Disney World. Brianna had even been able to see her special cousin/friend Savannah who happened to be enroute with her dad from Georgia to their home in deep Florida. These two girls have always done projects together and kept in constant contact by texting and Facebook despite the distance between them. (Savannah had approved Bri’s Christmas dress that way.) Trent is very good with younger kids, and he did his usual gracious hosting sharing video games with Savannah’s little brother. And they were able to see their special cousin Caleb and wife Stacy, who were also visiting Gma Dot.

Disney has played an important role down through the years with their family vacations, and they never miss a chance to check in at Orlando when they visit Gma Dot. They have been multiple times to Epcot and all the facilities and even taken the family cruise once or twice. They have had camping and traveling vacations too, but Disney has always been their special place. This year Trent and Bri were old enough to be on their own part of the time celebrating New Year’s Eve while the anniversary couple enjoyed some together time. Then they all four watched the midnight fireworks together. With Trent’s high school career almost over, they know these family vacations are likely ending.

Even though Brian had taken so much home in his truck, Mary Ellen was still hard pressed to find room in their car for in all the clothes from the closet and all the large Pyrex serving dishes she’d carried down with food for our holiday feasts. (The clothes and some of these dishes were left behind after the Thanksgiving stomach flu epidemic.) Since Trent and Brianna have to take their postponed final exams at school tomorrow, they left before noon to get home for a little study and preparation. A snow day did the same to the Marion high school kids here, and I really feel bad for all of them having to start the new year with final exams.

Jeannie and Rick and their children started back to school today in northern Illinois, and Jeannie said her students were definitely not sleepy as she had hoped they might be. They were well rested and wound up. She moves from one school to another, and kids come into the art room oft times with other agendas than creating fine art. But she has her methods of getting them down to learning.

So for right now, our children and grandchildren are settled back home. Not for long, however. Gerry will be in clinics south of Athens this week. This weekend Leslie will be heading back to campus. Gerry, Vickie, and Geri Ann will be flying to an exposure softball tournament in Arizona. Tara will fly there from northern Illinois, while Bryan will be caring for the boys. She will coach Southern Force, and Geri Ann will play for Southern Force. Erin will be there also representing Southern Illinois University Carbondale, and she and Gerry will both be scouting. I am sure Elijah will have a speech tournament somewhere, and Trent and Bri and Sam will all have some sort of special plans.

Mary Ellen told me once that she remembers when she was little that life for her was sometimes sort of a blur as she watched her three older siblings constantly running, jumping, and having adventures all around her, That also describes how I sometimes feel as I constantly send up prayers for traveling mercies and try to remember which grandchild is going where and what our adult children are involved in. In the meantime, I am trying to get back to some of my own activities and make some contacts with some of those I have heard about whose ancestors dropped off the Trail of Tears here in Southern Illinois.

Between the Holidays

The snowman the kids built on the deck has melted away along with all the snow on the hillsides where the sledding took place. But the photographs and the memories still exist.
The Christmas tree lights are shining brightly, and I will continue to feast my eyes on them until after New Year’s Day. Christmas cards continue to dribble in, and I have more time to enjoy them than I did the earlier more numerous daily offerings.

Tired of left overs, tonight I fried the quail Gerry had put in our freezer some months back. With a can of biscuits along with quail gravy, supper was a success when Gerald got back from Cape where he had been shopping for a new front door.

Earlier he had taken his latest version of a wheelchair footrest pad to Katherine’s house and replaced the pre-Christmas one. I had not realized it was the new pad itself that prevented the footrest from being turned up when needed. (I thought the new leg pad prevented that and was, thus, left off.) The pre-Christmas one was definitely an improvement with air bubbles in the middle so Kate could not feel the metal edges with her feet. She had bragged so on the improvement on Christmas Day about the first one that I thought it was just the behind-her-legs pad that had yet to be improved.

But the material on the one Gerald finished today is made of a smoother material and had some feature to allow the footrest to be turned up as it is supposed to be when needed. Now he is going to make the pad behind her legs of the same smooth material. David and Gerald have both made pads in the past and tried various wrappings; and although they helped at the time, they would eventually wear out and the problem remained.

Multiple sclerosis makes every touch and every movement felt much more intensely and painfully than sensations feel for those of us who still have myelin protecting our nerves. A too hard touch or a heavy hand on a swollen ankle can cause harsh pain. A too gentle touch can cause a tickle that is maddening to the patient—and that can sometimes be helped by rubbing hard on the tickle. Pain is invisible and so is hard for the rest of us to even begin to fathom.

I don’t dare try to fathom it. In order to function, I have to not allow myself to empathize too much with that pain, but leg spasms are not invisible, and there is no ignoring them. Learning to break up a spasm is a challenging task since what works one time does not necessarily work the next time. The stiffness that can come in just a second is almost incredible even though you are witnessing it. Katherine had a Tysabri infusion at the hospital yesterday, so we are hoping she will in better shape by tomorrow. The day after the infusion is usually needed for rest. Katherine is my hero for the way she endures this imprisoning disease as cheerfully as she does.

We are following our kids’ and grandkids’ between-holidays activities with the comments and photos they put on Facebook. Soon the ones who traveled south will be coming back by the farm on their way home to work and their 2011 responsibilities. And later Leslie in northern Illinois will be coming south to return to her Tennessee campus.

Like the rest of the nation, I feel very bad for those who spent their holidays locked into airports without many comforts and missing out on their planned family visits and festivities. I feel concern for those still living and struggling on unplowed streets. I hope the sheer danger and difficulty they have lived through gives them the needed adrenaline and that the challenges give them the grit to recover and face the new year even stronger despite the terrible holiday disappointments.

The Quiet After the Storm

The house almost seems spooky quiet when the last of the families leave after a holiday season. Gerald took off soon after the Archibald family and Gerry and Vickie and Geri Ann left to stop by a few minutes at Gma Shirley’s on down the road to say goodbye before they all drive on to Georgia.

Brian is on vacation this week, so after celebrating with his family up north, the Archibalds left Aurora early Sunday morning and arrived at noon in the village of Cambria at Erin’s new rented place for her first holiday hosting. Gerald and I were invited over, but it was good for their family to have some together time with less competition to hold those three little boys.
So Sam, Gerald, and I had lunch together here at Woodsong after church before Sam and I headed back to his house for my Sunday afternoon visit with Katherine. I hope Gerald got a nap in after we left, because later in the afternoon the Glasco-Archibald group came back for more sledding on one of the hillsides here. On Christmas Day after our afternoon dinner, everyone had done the same--except for Erin, Katherine, and I. We preferred to watch the snow falling outside the window while we visited. The sledders could imagine how much fun those little guys were going to have sledding when they arrived, and the photographs proved them correct.

Aidan and Maddux both throw themselves into any activity with laughing gusto, and Maddux was delighted to have a new ride to add to all the “tractor” rides that Gpa Gerald provides. It was amazing how much Maddux’s vocabulary had grown since he was here at Thanksgiving. Maybe having that second birthday did it for him. Baby Payton was crawling on all fours since the last visit rather than “swimming” as he did before. He isn’t talking yet at nine months, but he jabbers happily and smiles most of the time. I think he is understanding most of what is being said to him.

The Archibalds didn’t open our presents until this morning, and it was satisfying to see how much Aidan and Maddux liked the inexpensive tiny shiny little lock boxes and little lamps we gave them. I remember writing in a journal a couple decades ago how much their mother Tara appreciated gifts and never grew blasé despite our concern that she may have had too many toys, just as most kids do since the Great Depression ended.

With so many living grandparents—something many of us never had—it seems almost impossible to keep toys held down to a reasonable amount. But I notice modern parents are good to pass on outgrown toys these days. My own dolls and toys and my children’s toys were scarce enough that they were usually too worn out to pass on.

When I used to visit parents in housing projects, I always saw plenty of toys inside and out of the homes. I know there are plenty of American children who may not get many toys for Christmas; but with the help of angel trees and the work of various groups that collect toys. it is usually possible for diligent parents (if not too sick to ask for toys for their children) to provide some presents under their trees. And toys need not be expensive for children to learn from them and have fun with them. The play with the boxes the toys come in always proves that. The bath toys at our house are all collected plastic odds and ends, and I have been pleasantly surprised at how much the kids enjoy them.

Gerald was heading to get his truck serviced since the manager said it was a slow day at the shop, and then he was going to explore Calico Country for materials. He spent a lot of thought and energy before Christmas trying to figure out how to alleviate some of the pain-causing footrest problems that Katherine’s chair has. His research and development efforts did pay off on the footrest itself, but the pad behind her legs did not work out. So he is determined to keep trying to solve this.

Erin gave me two new books for Christmas, so while the house is quiet, I think I will go enjoy.

Perfect Moments

Our youngest daughter, Mary Ellen, wrote something on Facebook that has really helped me this season: "There's no such thing as a 'perfect life,' but there are such things as 'perfect moments.' And I appreciate each and every one of them!" I asked her on the phone if she created this thought, and she said no she had heard it several times. I had not heard it nor thought it through on my own before. And I thought it so profound that I am going to share it with you.

Mary Ellen and her family are soon going to be driving down for supper and to spend the night and tomorow here before they leave for Florida on Sunday to go see Brian's mother. She brought three wonderful casseroles for Thanksgiving Eve supper, so I would not have to cook two days in a row. Although they were delicious, we were unable to half finish them. So I froze them. We will be having them tonight again when the Taylors get here. I am looking forward to them. So I am not having to think about cooking. Gerry and Vickie have been here since Tuesday, but they are eating with the Johnson Clan tonight, and David and Katherine and Sam are celebrating with the Cedar family. Our family Christmas dinner will be tomorrow. We will all be together except for Jeannie's family and grandaughter Tara's family both in northern Illinois. Jeannie's Leslie keeps us updated with remarks and photos on Facebook, so it is almost like having them around. I am enjoying sharing their holiday. I wish they were here--but I am glad they are having time to enjoy one another without that terrible drive down.

I can't believe I am having time to blog on Christmas Eve. Every time I have thought this fall I might be caught up, something happened. Thjs week I lost a day because I woke up with itching wrists one morning. Cream for another purpose stopped the itch--but when I went to bed late that night, I had whelps and rash all over me from the neck down. Some kind of allergic reaction--maybe from the face moisturizer I had applied to Katherine the day before. A predisone shot, and lots of meds, which I will be taking for days yet, got the situation in check pretty quickly. I was so grateful I did not have shingles since the rash circled my waist. I felt free as a bird when I left the doctor's office--one of those "perfect moments" to appreciate. Katherine had shingles recently and I had been so smug that because I had paid $200 for a shot a couple years ago I did not catch them. Then I thought my pride had brought my fall--and what was I going to do with all these loved ones--including the babies coming to our house during Chirstmas??? So I was really filled with gratitude and appreciated just having an allergic reaction. Funny how I appreciated my good health more after being covered with a rash than I would have if I had not had anything wrong.

If you are still Christmas shopping, let me share another Facebook quote that Tammy Morris Waters, a Southern Illinois writer, shared: Reposting this wonderful quote I just read: "Christmas gift suggestions: To your enemy, forgiveness. To an opponent, tolerance. To a friend, your heart. To a customer, service. To all, charity. To every child, a good example. To yourself, respect."
~ Oren Arnold

Tammy posted an article on and it is an important one on bullying. Let me share it if I can. (I do not do well with figuring out how to do things mechanical. I almost never figured out how to start the windshield wiper on our new car this morning. I tried and tried to no avail. I stayed in the parking lot and got out the book--and it made no sense. Right before I panicked, I pushed the lever the right way. I long for the days when engineers were smart enough to use simple instructions like "off" and "on" and not confusing symbols. These new engineers are evidently not as competent as the ones a few decades ago. Ah well.

Here is Tammy's article, I hope: Is There Life After Bullying? - Associated Content from Yahoo! - associatedcontent.com

www.associatedcontent.com

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, Everyone!

Almost Christmas and Rosemary's Birthday

Cards are all sent, both trees are aglow, all the decorations I plan to put up are up, but the pies still aren’t made. I cannot find the pumpkin pulp in either freezer. I know it is there, but we had so many left-overs from Thanksgiving that somehow I have covered up the pumpkin. I may have to buy canned pumpkin when I go to town tomorrow. I did make one pan full of bar cookies today—the first cookies I have made since I made some for the Women’s Club at the first of the month.

Erin had flown down to Georgia this weekend to help her dad and Geri Ann in a softball camp, and she and Geri Ann drove up last night in Geri Ann’s car. (Erin’s car and dog Sadie were here at the farm.) It was almost 2 a.m. when they arrived here this morning, so we were glad to find them sleeping here when we woke up this morning. Erin had to go to work, so she and Sadie were off fairly early although she did delay a bit after Gerald told her he wanted to wash the salt off her car when he used the high-pressure washer on his truck.

Geri Ann had a well-deserved opportunity to sleep in before she took off to have lunch with her friend C.C. and to go to her cousin Drew’s away game tonight and then on to Crainville to spend the night with Erin at Erin’s house.

When I sat down to blog awhile ago before midnight, I realized as I had early this morning that today is my sister’s birthday and I had not phoned her yet! I knew her card would not have reached her yet in far-off Amarillo, because when I got ready to send it last week, I could not find it. I had bought a special card weeks ago, and it has been on top of the dining room buffet waiting.

Alas, it had disappeared when I was ready to mail it. (I found it today when I put up the last of the Christmas cards off the dining room table. It has been covered up so well that even though I looked there, I did not see it.) So I sent her a substitute non-birthday card I had saved for her in the distant past because of the roses on the front. (Her name is Rosemary, and we usually call her Rose or Rosie.) The envelope for this substitute card was missing, but I found a substitute envelope that worked even though not perfectly. But this was a few days after I intended to mail her card. Since I still haven’t mailed her little birthday gift, I will just enclose the real birthday card with that.

With all this forgetfulness going on, I did not want to also neglect the usual birthday phone call. Fortunately, Rose and her husband Phil are night owls and don’t go to bed until 1 a.m. or so. So I am just not back to blogging after a good birthday talk with my sister.

I learned all the latest news of their very large and complicated extended family created by their adopting four daughters long ago. Philip Todd is still in Iraq (again—many times), and his wife Jennifer and son Philip Ray had come down from Colorado Springs for a pre-Christmas visit in Amarillo before she goes back to spend Christmas Eve with her mother. They were at Rosie and Phil’s most recent weekly Friday night supper for all the gang who wants to come. Shiloh had brought his date and introduced her to the family that night. Katelynn, Ty’s daughter by his first marriage, was in town to visit with her Gpa Herman and Gloria, so she was there with them. And on and on.

It is always fun to hear about all their great grandkids who love to play together at Phil and Rosie’s—just as their parents used to do. Rosemary said today she had practiced saying, “I am 85,” but it still seemed unreal to her. It is unreal to me too since she goes to Tai Chi twice a week, teaches at an after-school Good News Club once a week, plays the organ every Sunday and Wednesday at church, and on and on.

Rosie has always been my mentor and inspiration, and she continues to set a standard I will never live up to. She was eight when I was born, so she loved lugging me around, our mother told me. When I was in grade school, she was off to college, but came home on the weekends and led our children’s group at church on Sunday nights, and she was always giving us parties at our house. When I was in high school, she was still my confidant and gave me good advice. Sometimes in my journals, I have called her my mother-sister because she has always been there for me.

I am glad Phil cooked her a special breakfast this morning of two strips of bacon and egg, toast, apple butter and coffee—all prepared just the way she likes them. She needed that substantial breakfast for energy to enjoy all the cards, visits, and phone calls that kept her busy all day continuing through my near-midnight call.

Weather Outside is Frightful

High winds after a Sunday of falling snow caused schools in our area to be called off today. Our pastor said yesterday that he wondered about calling off morning services, but he was glad he didn’t since most people made it. The director of our children and youth program yesterday afternoon wrote on Facebook that the crowd was bigger than usual, so the decisions not to cancel were correct. It is always difficult to know.

Gerald took me in the pickup into Marion to see the Cedars yesterday afternoon, and it was slick getting in and out of their house just as it had been at church. (But our pastor was out helping us safely inside at church, and Gerald did the same for me at the Cedars.)

It was exciting to open the Southern Illinoisan yesterday and see a front-page story and photograph of Hua-Ling Hu holding her new book The Undaunted Women of Nanking. When this busy season is over, I am going to settle down and concentrate on these diaries of this Illinois missionary and her Chinese assistant as they worked together with grit and pure moral courage and saved the lives of many women and children in Nanking. This new book with their translated diaries is available through the University Press at Southern Illinois University, Barnes and Noble, and, of course, amazon.com.

I stayed inside today and enjoyed looking out the windows at the beauty there while I felt snug and cozy. Despite the cold, actually the roads were better today than yesterday. (Our driveway had drifted last night but snow was blown the rest of the way off by this morning,)

Granddaughter Erin said she had no problems on our roads when she came over to pick up her dog Sadie. Gerald has been dog sitting while she went to the coaches’ convention at San Diego. Since Sadie would ride with him or walk with him to the mailbox, Gerald grew fond of her. Although Sadie is a house dog at Erin’s, she was seemingly quite content to sleep in Gerald’s shop, and she absolutely loved playing in the snow and running around the farm.

I had the downstairs tree in the family room decorated last week, and Saturday night Gerald put together the new pre-lit tree for the upstairs living room that we bought that day at Paducah. I had replaced the downstairs tree with a pre-lit one last year and was determined to do the same upstairs this year. The stores were already out of some of the advertised trees. (Erin got the old tree with its strings of lights for her house.)

Today while I listened to the music of Susan Boyle, I put the ornaments and the roses on the new tree. I set up the manager scene the Taylors gave us one year, and put batteries in the clock that plays carols that the neighbors gave us in 2003. I have wreaths on three doors and a couple more to go. Maybe tomorrow I’ll get the rest of the decorations out of the big boxes sitting in the guest room and place them. Most are gifts from previous years and so they carry memories.

Gerald put the first batch of cards in the mail for me today when he went to a doctor’s appointment. But that annual correspondence project has just barely been started. The dining room table is awash with envelopes, stamps, et cetera, and it will probably stay that way for awhile. It does every year. And sometimes I finish up the job after Christmas. When cards have come back because of wrong addresses, I have sent them out with another catch-up note in July.

I had hoped to start baking and freezing the Christmas pies this week. We’ll see. I’ll be going to town tomorrow. Sam has a mid-day orthodontist appointment, and I need to buy some Christmas cards and more stamps. So pie making may not start until Wednesday—if even then. I learned a long time ago that what I want to do but don’t get done will not really matter on Christmas Day.

Once Again

Once again, Dear Abby printed a letter accusing those of us who write annual Christmas letters of being egotistical, boring, etc. One part of her advice was on target, however: Just toss them if you don’t like them. If you are a decent friend, you will not pick apart a friend’s efforts and make fun of them behind their backs or to their face.

I always get tickled that Abby, who presumes she has wise answer for multiple problems of other people, thinks it is egotistical for someone else to share news about his/her family. Ah well. I am glad for the advice columnists, but I am also very grateful for those who love me enough to share the news about themselves that I am longing to know.

I understand that some people do not have the time, energy, nor desire to share their lives with others and simply send greetings. I appreciate those lovely cards and the thoughts and efforts behind them. But even more, I love the cards that include a letter telling me what is going on in their lives and news about their children and people I care about. These letters keep me connected and aware of what is happening in others’ lives. I like to read them when they come in and re-read them on New Year’s Eve and maybe once or twice during the year as I think about those people and their families.

Although there are years when I have felt I needed to share sadnesses and troubles and have done so, I usually try to write only about the good things in our lives. That is what I also usually do in my blog posts. Some people consider that bragging. That is ok with me. I feel it is merely appreciating and sharing the blessings that come our way. I know it is better for my mental health to concentrate on the good things even as I struggle with many many problems and heart aches.

I have never wanted folks to think that our life on the farm was idyllic and free of strain and grief. I also know that sharing struggles often helps people too, so sometimes I am even generous enough to share the bad things of my life. The Bible says we need to rejoice with those that do rejoice and to weep with those who weep. Christmas letters are one way to allow people to do so.

So thank you to everyone who will send me a letter this Christmas, and below is my gift to you. If you don’t have time to read it, don’t feel guilty. If you don't like Christmas letters, don't get mad--just don't read it. Just enjoy it if you want to review our year with us:

Woodsong Christmas 2010

Dear Friends and Relatives:

Thanks to Bryan and Tara Archibald, our third great grandchild was born March 7, and this beautiful smiley baby is named Payton Dean. His two big brothers--Aidan, age 4 ½, and Maddux, age 2--are fascinating to him and they seem to like him too. Bryan continues work as an architect, and Tara keeps their Aurora home and three sons well cared for with his help. She also cares for a friend’s baby girl and manages Southern Force 16U softball team, which requires a lot of traveling but also allows her to see her parents and Geri Ann frequently.

Gerry and Vickie are still at Watkinsville, Georgia, where Geri Ann, an Oconee High School junior, was just chosen as Class AAA pitcher of the year and a member of the all-state first softball team. Vickie amazes us with all she does including caring for Jerry and Lu Champer’s adorable Mia and a neighbor’s little boy, Matthew, during the week. She gets in lots of grandmothering with Tara’s three boys. Georgia Bulldogs Softball went into the semi-finals at the Women’s College World Series at Oklahoma City again last May. We were there to cheer them on, and afterward we drove down to Amarillo to visit my sister Rosemary and husband Phil and their families.

After her graduation from Texas A&M, Erin spent several weeks with her family in Watkinsville doing softball camps for University of Georgia and getting ready for her summer in Europe, where she played for the Austrian Sharx. She was with her family again after her return until she became assistant softball coach at Southern Illinois University Carbondale. She and her dog Sadie now live in a small house in Cambria, which she is renting from Brad Boyd, a Crab Orchard alum. We think that is kinda neat!

Only one of our four families has stayed in the area--Katherine, David, and Sam Cedar. David is still with General Dynamics, and Katherine is still battling multiple sclerosis. Sam is in the eighth grade and one handsome guy in his tux when he plays trombone with the symphonic band,. He recently attended the junior high IMEA all-state festival at Edwardsville, is active in his youth group and plays basketball with his church league, and is on the Scholar Bowl team.

Granddaughter Leslie can break up her trip to Freeport from Belmont University in Nashville, TN, by stopping over night with the Cedars as well as with us at Woodsong. Les is a junior now and works in the health department office and as a resident fellow in her dorm. Music and church activities and a certain guitar player with red hair keep her schedule full. She coached music and drama last summer at the Barefoot Republic camp in Kentucky. Gerald took her to Texas last spring to visit seminaries and they also visited Don and Helen Ruth Dillow, Bobby Sanders, and Erin at College Station.

The Eilers of Freeport--Jeannie, Rick, Elijah, and Cecelie--stay busy. Rick heads the high school math department, coaches track, and runs daily. Jeannie teaches art in fifth to eighth grades and is on her bike whenever possible. Elijah had the lead again in this year’s musical How to Succeed in Business without Really Trying. Bryan and Mary Ellen, Trent, Brianna, us, and Sam were all able to attend. Afterwards, Lige began speech contests. Cecelie, our youngest grandchild and family violinist, is in sixth grade now and keeps up very well with her older cousins. Last spring Brianna and we saw Cecelie singing in her first musical and attended Elijah’s Freeport High School thirtieth annual Showtime also.

The Taylors, near Watkinsville, also keep busy. Bryan continues to do a great job farming our land and works for Stone Seed Company, north of Springfield. Mary Ellen stays busy with real estate, homemaking, and band parent activities as well as chauffeuring, counseling, commiserating, and cheering on Trent and Brianna and Lincolnwood High School friends. Trent, a senior, is a whiz at computer and Internet and is teaching himself to weld--with Gpa Gerald’s help. A sophomore, Brianna is an academic and clarinet success. Their band also went to IMEA all-state festival but at Charleston. She especially loves to write--but much to my delight, all of our grandchildren are writers.

As you can see from this letter, the children and grandchildren and their activities are what make this season and my life bright, I write about them frequently in Woodsong Notes, my twice-a-week blog. (I am also trying to write some Martin family history.) I was very proud of myself that I drove up to see Elijah in the lead of Enter Laughing visiting the Taylors on the way up and back and being able to attend Brianna’s band concert. Afterward I drove over to Mattoon and had a great visit with Jim and Vivian, my brother and wife.

Trent, Elijah, Sam, Brianna, and I all worked in Vacation Bible School at Center. Cecelie was the only one young enough for class this year, but Aidan has already informed me he is coming to VBS next summer! Geri Ann couldn’t be here that week, but she and some softball friends stopped over for a couple of days, so we had company 14 days straight in July.

Everyone came at the same time during the Thanksgiving holidays. (Thank goodness for the Taylor camper and the Cedars living in Marion because beds and couches were full!) We had a wonderful time despite the fact that 15 of 23 of us caught stomach flu. We won’t forget this Thanksgiving.

Gerald stays busy not only taking care of our lawn and garden and acreage around the house but occasionally helping Scott next door and sometimes helping Brian move machinery or clean up ditches or roadsides. He has made softball tees for Gerry, Tara, and Erin’s use in clinics and coaching. One of his busiest jobs is taking Maddux and Aidan on tractor, “mule,“ and lawn mower rides. Maddux made sure of that with constant pleas for “Tractor!Tractor!Tractor!“ Most of the year Gerald taught the men’s Sunday School class, and he frequently helps a child or grandchild with a special project or need. Of course, there are visits with his brothers Garry and Keith. He is not averse to making a trip to Lexington or Georgia to see Geri Ann play softball or hopping in the car with Tara and her three sons to watch Tara coach Southern Force. Gerald’s sister Ernestine and our niece Leah visited and introduced us to Emerson, Leah and Derik’s daughter. Once again we attended the SIUC BSU friends convention.

We look forward to Christmas with deep appreciation for what Christ did for us. Here is a verse to share for my Christmas gift to you: The Lord is my strength and my song; he has become my salvation. Psalm 118: 14.

Love and Merry Christmas, Sue

Daily Doings and a World Premiere

Beds are back in order now. That feels good. Left-over holiday food has been eaten up, frozen, or thrown out. I am working on the Christmas letter and enjoying early cards from those more efficient than I am.

It was good to go again to Jackie Hancock’s rural home yesterday for the Women’s Club Christmas party. Last year she wanted us to come and see all of David’s beautiful outside decorations, and I am sure this year she wanted for things to be as normal as possible as life goes on without him. Her son and wife are still home from the Middle East, and Scott greeted us and served as valet taking our car keys, turning the cars around in the back yard with its beautiful forest, and having each car facing outward so we could leave without any problem. That was the nicest thing I have ever experienced at someone’s home. (Once I knocked into a mailbox, once I got off into slinging mud, and many times I have been nervous as I backed out hoping I was not going to do harm to someone’s car or tree or flower bed—or land in a ditch and have to be pulled out.)

We had met at the Marion library to car pool. I was delighted to have three lovely ladies ride with me. The youngest was 90, one was 94, and one was 95. Two of these three had driven to the library, and one had picked up the non-driver. These women are not the oldest in the club, but they are inspirational to us and give us hope that we too may be able to stay this active.

After the meeting I went by Katherine and David’s, and I barely got home in time for Gerald and me to turn around and go back to town for Sam’s symphonic band concert at 7:45. It was impossible to make the earlier concert of the younger Cadet Band. There was another group performing in another gym, and parking was scarce. We may have gotten the last space in that parking lot.

People were excited anticipating the world premiere of David Gillingham’s work “Lucid Dreams” written specifically with Director Jim Childers’ 47-member group in mind. Gillingham is a well known clinician and guest conductor, who is a professor of music theory and composition at Central Michigan University. Gillingham had heard and been impressed with Childers’ wind ensemble performance at the Illinois Music Educators Association’s All State Festival in Peoria a few years ago. Childers remained in contact with Gillingham, who has written many college band compositions and who wanted to branch out into writing for high school and advanced junior high levels.

From the program notes, I learned what lucid dreams are. Dutch psychiatrist and writer Frederik van Eeden coined the term to describe dreams where the dreamer is aware that he is dreaming. The composition began with controlled awareness and then darkened to “multiple dreams of various levels of fright.” Finally, Gillingham noted in the score that the composition “succumbs to lucidity and ends calmly with a hint of mysteriousness.” The standing ovation the crowd at the junior high gym gave the band at the end of the premiere presentation was lucidly appreciative. So were Sam’s two grandmothers after the concert seeing him in a tux that made us aware this young teen has mysteriously grown up when we weren’t watching.

Although I am sure Gerald was tired from his day’s outing to Union County and Cape to visit with his brothers, he pleased me by taking the long loop home so I could see the Christmas light display at the houses on Cherry Valley Road. Ahhhh.

That Time of Year

Driving home from Katherine’s on Sunday night, I took my preferred route—through the country roads rather than the highway. What to my wondering eyes should appear but the brilliant glow of the two houses on Cherry Valley Lane that celebrate Christmas with spectacular light displays. I only discovered this elaborate display a couple of years ago, but now enjoying it is part of my personal Christmas tradition.

Usually rural displays are somewhat modest, but these two side-by-side houses go all out with front and back yards aglow with fantastic assortments of decorative accessories and scenes. I was in a hurry to get home and fix Gerald a bite of supper, so I did not turn off the Creal Springs Road to drive up Cherry Valley, but I enjoyed the bright colors and the anticipation of making that extra loop while going home in the future. I really want to know who these generous folks are that light up the countryside each year.
I had already gotten my first Christmas card the day after Thanksgiving. I was expecting it. Valerie, my cousin Jack’s widow, makes a point to get her cards out this early every year. I am still not sure if I have any cards bought ahead, and I know it is time to write my annual Christmas letter.

I have just a few presents picked up ahead of time during the past year, but felt rather smug about those few. Then someone on Facebook wrote that they had their tree up and decorated and all their shopping done and presents wrapped. That made me nervous and left me feeling way behind. I am still straightening up and putting away from our Thanksgiving celebration.

Last night I made my first Christmas cookies—something I don’t indulge in to the extent that I did in the “old days” when our children were small and we gave them for their teacher/leader gifts. But I am supposed to go to my first Christmas party this afternoon with the Woman’s Club, and the inviting letter said to bring home-made cookies. I missed the last meeting, but I think these cookies are for some sort of in-club bake sale.

Gerry and Vickie have pecan trees in the backyard of their Georgia home, and they have enjoyed gathering and sharing their harvest. They brought me two containers of beautiful huge shelled pecans for my birthday—probably about fifty dollars worth if I were to buy them from the store. So I liked being able to use those in the Russian Tea Cakes I made last night. One of my favorite cookie recipes in the Betty Crocker cookbook, this cookie shows up with slightly different ingredients and other names in other cookbooks. Rich and not too sweet, the little white snow balls make a pretty accent on cookie trays with other kinds of cookies. I really am not fond of cooking for bake sales where products are supposed to be “nice.” I do not have the patience to make all my little cookie balls the same size nor fuss with them. I like feeding people and do a lot of that, but I am not a very good cook. However, hungry people don’t pay much attention to that.

I bought our Christmas ham at senior citizens’ day at the grocery yesterday, and I’ve started thinking of a menu that will not be a repeat of Thanksgiving although dressing, friend okra, and cranberry sauce will be expected.

When I get the house back in order from last week, I will quickly mess it up again getting out the artificial trees, which always shed when being assembled. Boxes of decorations will come down from high closet shelves. For a few days we will be living in chaos, but eventually Christmas memories will surface with the appearance of the accumulation of candles, manager scenes, Santa novelties, and lovely flower arrangements given to me in years past.

Dropping Like Flies

“Dropping like flies” was the comment of one of the grandkids describing our family Thanksgiving vacation at Woodsong. The holiday started early when a call from Goreville Tuesday morning said that Gerry and Vickie with Geri Ann and their grandson Aidan were almost here from Georgia. We happily invited them and Erin to lunch with us at Honeybakers, so I had a real birthday party. The Georgia gang were all excited to go see Drew Johnson play in the Crab Orchard annual Turkey Tournament, and Geri Ann was able to have her long-time Johnston City friend Cece over to spend the night with her.

On Wednesday I made pecan and pumpkin pies, and we had chili for lunch. By Wednesday evening, David had brought Sam out from Marion, Leslie had arrived from Belmont, the Archibalds were down from Aurora and the Taylors had arrived from central Illinois with Mary Ellen bringing three large versions of a marvelous casserole. Leslie made our salad, and I served canned peaches and a little store-bought cake for dessert—not letting anyone touch the counter full of pies saved for the next day, Jeannie, Rick, Elijah, and Cecelie arrived during the night. Katherine and David came out the next day. Before I went to bed while the others had gone to see Drew play again, I washed and prepared the turkey for the oven early the next morning.

I had the small upstairs oven at 350 degrees and the turkey roasting by 5:15 on Thursday morning and stumbled back to bed for a couple more hours sleep. I figured the turkey would be done by 11 and would have time to sit before Gerry carved it for us. The only hitch on Thursday was when I stumbled back into the kitchen shortly before 8. I discovered we had had a power surge that turned off the oven with the baking turkey. (This had never happened to me before.) Not knowing how long the oven had been off, I worried if it would be done by noon but quickly had it going again. (I knew Gerry and Vickie and their families would be going to an evening dinner at the Johnsons, so I did not want to serve the noon dinner too late.) But all went well with all the help I had, and we were eating earlier than usual before 1 o’clock.

Mary Ellen arrived from their camper with all the ingredients to make a both a broccoli casserole and a cauliflower casserole in the downstairs oven, which we’d moved over from our old house. (The huge pan of dressing, green bean casserole, and sweet potato casserole filled up the main upstairs oven.) Jeannie had carried in a yummy dessert and ingredients for a special salad. The Archibalds brought a spinach dip with chips that went over great while people waited for the feast to begin.

People were getting up at their own pace (except when someone made too much noise and awakened them), Gerald was busy giving Aidan, Maddux, and even little Payton tractor and “mule” rides. I think Aidan enlisted Sam, Elijah, and Trent in various activities including digging in his lime pile. And Maddux, who is now talking in sentences, was given his very own little shovel for the lime pile. The men were visiting and having fun while the women of the family cooked, enjoyed the little ones, and visited. The meal was bountiful and people were thankful for many things as evidenced by the blessings written on construction paper turkey feathers that the kids posted on Mary Ellen’s turkey poster hung in the dining room.

As we rested after the dinner clean up, the shoppers in the family scoured the newspaper for all the Black Friday ads and got excited about the fantastic bargains. Before they knew it, plans for a competition developed. Vickie and Tara have evidently worked cooperatively on this before, and Mary Ellen was enlisted with Erin to form another team and see who could outdo the other team in obtaining bargains. Since the toy store was to open before midnight and others continued afterwards, I realized this was an all-night activity, which was amazing to me.

What I did not know until reported the next morning when this crew came giggling into the kitchen before a little sleep (very little) downstairs, Erin had not shown up. She had phoned Geri Ann that she really did not want to go once she quickly got the comforter and towels she needed for her new place. Geri Ann thought there was a simple solution—just don’t go. So Mary Ellen’s team lost and she was particularly kind to go ahead and get her small kitchen appliances on sale for Erin at yet another store.

As they met up at Steak and Shake for a break, they plotted revenge for Erin’s backing out. Someone had told them a story about someone making money last year by claiming limited large items, which they really did not want to buy, and then before checking out giving the item over to another hapless customer for $20 or so, which still made it a cheap purchase for that customer. They had pondered if that was not illegal. So as they took their break, they decided that they needed to phone Erin and tell her they had tried it on some item and they had been arrested. They were going to ask her to come to the Marion police station but whatever she did not to tell her daddy because then he would never let the women go shopping again on Black Friday! They had quite a story cooked up to tell her only to have their revenge aborted when Erin had her phone turned off. (So I would not get unwanted night-time phone calls, Erin reported the next day.) But I think they had plenty of fun dreaming up this revenge and talking about it the next day.

One of the new aspects of this holiday gathering was all the teen drivers. These kids decided they wanted in on the Black Friday excitement. They piled into Leslie’s or someone’s car and went looking for fights in the stores as peaceful Elijah explained as they ran around town taking movies and having a great time standing in lines where they intended to buy nothing, and of course visiting Steak and Shake. They came in hours before the adult shoppers and eventually went to bed on various couches, but I did not even hear them since I was sleeping peacefully.

Peacefully that is before one grandchild came in to whisper he had just been sick. I sent him back to his couch and to make a long story short, I mopped a floor and had only gotten back to bed an hour or so before the adult shoppers came home in with great high spirits. I had not gone back to sleep because when I went back to bed, I remembered the oven going off with the turkey. I had horror visions that maybe this was food poisoning from that cold oven after starting the turkey cooking and what if I had poisoned my whole family? Jeannie kept reassuring me that from her experience in her college days with a major food company at a summer camp where hundreds had food poisoning, that was not what was happening even though we found out at breakfast that Bryan had been up during the night also with little Aidan throwing up.

As it turned out, the early sick ones were through the worst within 24 hours as is typical of stomach flu victims, but they all needed an extra day before the color came back to their cheeks and they were no longer weak. They had unintentionally spread it to the Johnson family so then I knew it was not my turkey. The next night the teens, who had not gotten the flu yet and felt like running around again, went to a movie in town, and Gerry had to go get Geri Ann when she became sick there.

On and on it went. Let’s see—Aidan, Sam, Leslie, Geri Ann, Erin, Gerry, Cecelie, Jeannie, Brian, Mary Ellen, Brianna, me, and finally Elijah right before they left this morning. The Archibalds had such a bug a week or so ago and seemed to be immune except for Aidan, who had spent that week at Gerry and Vickie’s. I am hoping they did not get the flu on their long way home today as Rick did as the Eilers traveled back to Freeport. Katherine, David, Vickie and Trent seemed to have escaped so far. Gerald had gotten a head cold on Wednesday and it kept getting worse each day and he became weak but did not seem to catch the flu. We were truly dropping like flies and it has not been a pretty picture at Woodsong for the last two days. My washing machine is running now and probably will be for the next day or two with blankets and towels. Everyone has agreed it has been a Thanksgiving to remember.



























“Dropping like flies” was the comment of one of the grandkids describing our family Thanksgiving vacation at Woodsong. The holiday started early when a call from Goreville Tuesday morning said that Gerry and Vickie with Geri Ann and their grandson Aidan were almost here from Georgia. We happily invited them and Erin to lunch with us at Honeybakers, so I had a real birthday party. The Georgia folks were all excited to go see Drew Johnson play in the Crab Orchard annual Turkey Tournament, and Geri Ann was able to have her long-time Johnston City friend Cece over to spend the night with her.

On Wednesday I made pecan and pumpkin pies, and we had chili for lunch. By Wednesday evening, David had brought Sam out from Marion, Leslie had arrived from Belmont, the Archibalds were down from Aurora and the Taylors had arrived from central Illinois with Mary Ellen bringing three large versions of a marvelous casserole. Leslie made our salad, and I served canned peaches and a little store-bought cake for dessert—not letting anyone touch the counter full of pies saved for the next day, Jeannie, Rick, Elijah, and Cecelie arrived during the night. Katherine and David came out the next day. Before I went to bed while the others had gone to see Drew play again, I washed and prepared the turkey for the oven early the next morning.

I had the small upstairs oven at 350 degrees and the turkey roasting by 5:15 on Thursday morning and stumbled back to bed for a couple more hours sleep. I figured the turkey would be done by 11 and would have time to sit before Gerry carved it for us. The only hitch on Thursday was when I stumbled back into the kitchen shortly before 8. I discovered we had had a power surge that turned off the oven with the baking turkey. (This had never happened to me before.) Not knowing how long the oven had been off, I worried if it would be done by noon but quickly had it going again. (I knew Gerry and Vickie and their families would be going to an evening dinner at the Johnsons, so I did not want to serve the noon dinner too late.) But all went well with all the help I had, and we were eating earlier than usual before 1 o’clock.

Mary Ellen arrived from their camper with all the ingredients to make a both a broccoli casserole and a cauliflower casserole in the downstairs oven, which we’d moved over from our old house. (The huge pan of dressing, green bean casserole, and sweet potato casserole filled up the main upstairs oven.) Jeannie had carried in a yummy dessert and ingredients for a special salad. The Archibalds brought a spinach dip with chips that went over great while people waited for the feast to begin.

People were getting up at their own pace (except when someone made too much noise and awakened them), Gerald was busy giving Aidan, Maddux, and even little Payton tractor and “mule” rides. I think Aidan enlisted Sam, Elijah, and Trent in various activities including digging in his lime pile. And Maddux, who is now talking in sentences, was given his very own little shovel for the lime pile. The men were visiting and having fun while the women of the family cooked, enjoyed the little ones, and visited. The meal was bountiful and people were thankful for many things as evidenced by the blessings written on construction paper turkey feathers that the kids posted on Mary Ellen’s turkey poster hung in the dining room.

As we rested after the dinner clean up, the shoppers in the family scoured the newspaper for all the Black Friday ads and got excited about the fantastic bargains. Before they knew it, plans for a competition developed. Vickie and Tara have evidently worked cooperatively on this before, and Mary Ellen was enlisted with Erin to form another team and see who could outdo the other team in obtaining bargains. Since the toy store was to open before midnight and others continued afterwards, I realized this was an all-night activity, which was amazing to me.

What I did not know until reported the next morning when this crew came giggling into the kitchen before a little sleep (very little) downstairs, Erin had not shown up. She had phoned Geri Ann that she really did not want to go once she quickly got the comforter and towels she needed for her new place. Geri Ann thought there was a simple solution—just don’t go. So Mary Ellen’s team lost and she was particularly kind to go ahead and get her small kitchen appliances on sale for Erin at yet another store.

As they met up at Steak and Shake for a break, they plotted revenge for Erin’s backing out. Someone had told them a story about someone making money last year by claiming limited large items, which they really did not want to buy, and then before checking out giving the item over to another hapless customer for $20 or so, which still made it a cheap purchase for that customer. They had pondered if that was not illegal. So as they took their break, they decided that they needed to phone Erin and tell her they had tried it on some item and they had been arrested. They were going to ask her to come to the Marion police station but whatever she did not to tell her daddy because then he would never let the women go shopping again on Black Friday! They had quite a story cooked up to tell her only to have their revenge aborted when Erin had her phone turned off. (So I would not get unwanted night-time phone calls, Erin reported the next day.) But I think they had plenty of fun dreaming up this revenge and talking about it the next day.

One of the new aspects of this holiday gathering was all the teen drivers. These kids decided they wanted in on the Black Friday excitement. They piled into Leslie’s or someone’s car and went looking for fights in the stores as peaceful Elijah explained as they ran around town taking movies and having a great time standing in lines where they intended to buy nothing, and of course visiting Steak and Shake. They came in hours before the adult shoppers and eventually went to bed on various couches, but I did not even hear them since I was sleeping peacefully.

Peacefully that is before one grandchild came in to whisper he had just been sick. I sent him back to his couch and to make a long story short, I mopped a floor and had only gotten back to bed an hour or so before the adult shoppers came home in with great high spirits. I had not gotten back to sleep because when I went back to bed, I remembered the oven going off with the turkey. I had horror visions that maybe this child had food poisoning from that cold oven after starting the turkey cooking and what if I had poison my whole family? Jeannie kept reassuring me that from her experience in her college days with a major food company at a summer camp where hundreds had food poisoning, that was not what was happening even though we found out at breakfast that Bryan had been up during the night also with little Aidan throwing up.

As it turned out, the early sick ones were through the worst within 24 hours as is typical of stomach flu victims, but they all needed an extra day before the color came back to their cheeks and they were no longer weak. They had unintentionally spread it to the Johnson family so then I knew it was not my turkey. The next night the teens, who had not gotten the flu yet and felt like running around again, went to a movie in town, and Gerry had to go get Geri Ann when she became sick there.

On and on it went. Let’s see—Aidan, Sam, Leslie, Geri Ann, Erin, Gerry, Cecelie, Jeannie, Brian, Mary Ellen, Brianna, me, and finally Elijah right before they left this morning. The Archibalds had such a bug a week or so ago and seemed to be immune except for Aidan, who had spent that week at Gerry and Vickie’s. I am hoping they did not get the flu on their long way home today as Rick did as the Eilers traveled back to Freeport. Katherine, David, Vickie and Trent seemed to have escaped so far. Gerald had gotten a head cold on Wednesday and it kept getting worse each day and he became weak but did not seem to catch the flu. We were truly dropping like flies and it has not been a pretty picture at Woodsong for the last two days. My washing machine is running now and probably will be for the next day or two with blankets and towels. Everyone has agreed it has been a Thanksgiving to remember.

Thanksgiving Is Almost Here

The hunters left Woodsong Saturday morning very happy as the one carrying the gun got an eleven-point buck. The camera guy caught it all on tape. We had a restful weekend although Gerald was busy on a project in his shop for a surprise for our 17-year-old grandson Trent.

Erin was briefly in to borrow a staple gun for the couch upholstery job--with sheets--that she and her friend Toni were doing on the couch Toni’s folks gave Erin. I bet those two make it look up-to-date. Erin hopes to be in her little rental house in Cambria by the middle of December. Her folks are bringing up several pieces of furniture she painted down in Georgia. They are also bringing up her dog Sadie, and Erin is very excited about that. Gma Shirley has donated a kitchen table, and Toni’s folks (whom Erin calls her adopted folks) also donated beds, so Erin will soon be closer to her new job at Southern Illinois University.

The turkey was put in our fridge yesterday to start thawing. Final grocery lists are made for shopping tomorrow to be ready Wednesday to start preparing Thursday’s dinner. People will start arriving tomorrow night for the holiday and weekend. Beds are ready and plenty of sheets are ready for the couches, which will all be full by Thanksgiving night. Glad Mary Ellen and Brian have not winterized their camper up at Wayside Farm since we definitely need that sleeping space.

While we are enjoying this holiday family time at Woodsong, the family history scrapbooks and scads of miscellaneous papers are temporarily put away, and writing family history is put on hold until next week. I have been doing much more reviewing than writing so far. Recalling, relearning, and looking at past work, which I have already forgotten, are necessary to limit propagating errors.

I have also done a little sorting and filing as I find piles placed haphazardly in boxes or even within the scrapbooks when bits and pieces of information have come in and I have been busy with other projects.

We were saddened by the death of a second cousin’s daughter at the end of last week out in Colorado. It is the nature of family history that it has no ending and no beginning—much like the love of God. Family history spreads out in all directions as you look to the past, and you notice the constant addition of new families. You see the same thing happening in the future as you watch young families forming and new blood lines constantly being introduced to the family. You soon realize that we are all one family of man.

I’ll get my hair fixed early this week in order to get my favorite stylist since she is off work on Wednesday, which is good since I plan to be baking pies that day. Gerald and I have a luncheon date in town tomorrow to celebrate my birthday before company starts arriving.

It looks like I will be too busy living for the next several days to do much writing. But if anything super exciting happens, I might have to run down here to my office and blog about it. Otherwise, I probably will be blogging again next Monday.

Watch out, Bambi!

If you live in Southern Illinois, you probably know not to go walking in the woods tomorrow. Today has been a busy day for hunters--putting up tree stands, getting guns and ammunition ready to go, looking for deer scrapings, and getting camouflage and red coats laid out for an early morning in the woods when deer season begins tomorrow.

Many local families depend on venison to keep their families fed. Others will pay to have their kill processed at local butcher shops and donate the meat to the soup kitchens. We farmers who have fed these deer all year are grateful to have them thinned to reduce the damage to our crops next summer. We are also grateful that lives will be saved by keeping some of these slain animals off our highways since deer cause many accidents, some of which are fatal to humans.

When our kids were at home, we had a son who loved to hunt—although he seriously considered hunting with a camera at one time rather than a gun—and we had one daughter who loved animals so much that hunting greatly upset her. (So did knowing that the little pigs she loved to hold down at our farrowing house would grow up and be sent to market.) Consequently, every night during certain times of the year, we had an ongoing debate about the virtue/vice of hunting.

Anyone who has seen a large beautiful buck running and leaping over a four-foot fence and off into the woods knows what a glorious vision that is. And a baby deer beside the road as we saw Monday on the way to Cape Girardeau to pick up our car is a visual joy. A doe with twin fawns is a thrill to see. So we understood Jeannie’s sadness that they are killed. Yet as Gerry explained over and over to her at the supper table hunting is beneficial to the deer. When the deer over populate and start dying from starvation, their lives are not only taken but their lives here on the planet are much less pleasant. Anyone who has had a car wrecked or a child in a car killed or a house destroyed by an invading deer knows that the graceful beauty of the animals is costly.

I understand the sadness that people feel about hunted animals or domestic animals raised for the market. Many will be moaning the death of the turkeys, which are now in our freezers or still at the super markets, waiting for next Thursday’s feast. I respect vegetarians whether from reluctance to eat another animal or for other reasons. But I also acknowledge that none of those turkeys or swine or beeves raised for the market would have had any life at all if not for those of us who eat meat. They just would never have been born in the first place. Gerald has a cousin who has a herd of cattle for pets because he loves them so much that he can’t sell them, but most of us could not afford that luxury. A few domestic animals would be in zoos or in sanctuaries, but that would be a very limited number of animal lives allowed to exist on the planet.

So I will enjoy our Thanksgiving turkey without guilt next week just as I liked seeing Gerry and his three hunting buddies enjoying pork chops and ham with their biscuits and gravy at lunch today at Woodsong. Actually Gerry just came up to get the other guys acclimated to the best hunting spots for tomorrow and to be in the woods with them as they prepared for tomorrow. (He has already left for home to pick up a softball recruit at the Atlanta airport on his way back to Athens.) Erin was here this evening between softball lessons at Future Swings to visit with her dad and was able to be in on the story telling taking place at the supper table. Hunting and softball both seem to encourage story telling, and we’ve had great stories throughout the day.

Hunting in the next day or two will add to many hunters’ repertoire of stories. Often those memories of fun and adventures are as valuable as the meat for our tables.