Shifting Back to Normal--Whatever That Is

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Echoes of Wedding Bells

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wedding Week at Woodsong

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another Postscript on Geri Ann

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Postscript to Yesterday's Post

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

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

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

Changes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What is so rare as a day...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Life Goes On

Our niece Vicki Sue picked up Ernestine, Leah, and Emerson yesterday afternoon to take them up to the Saint Louis airport. It was sad to see them go, but little Emmy’s antics kept us smiling during the repeated hugs and reluctant goodbyes. While the trunk was being loaded with luggage, Emmy helped me water the flowers again and she had opportunity to tell Jake goodbye there in the driveway.

Probably I am one of the few to use both of Vickie Sue’s names. But when I came into the family, she was called that, and I remember well that beautiful little blonde when she was Emmy’s age. I have persisted in using both her names, however, because before she married Ernie Escue, we had three Vickie/Vicki Glascos in our family. The two spelled “Vickie” even had their medical records mixed up once before our daughter-in-law moved from the region. So I have designated these three “our Vickie” for our daughter-in-law, “DuWayne’s Vickie” for our niece-in-law and Vicki Sue for our niece. It saves time and confusion sometimes to use the designations, and I enjoy the memories of the little blonde that name conjures up for me.

One of the challenges of aging is coping with the piling up of memories on top of each other. Just when I thought I had our large extended family figured out, the children grew up and got married, and new generations came about, and it is now happening yet again. Now I have to think hard sometimes to keep from calling a young woman by her mother’s name. It seems so impossible that little Vicki Sue is a grandmother. Life goes on.

Although we did not get around to having a family reunion during this visit by Ernestine, we did create memories. The Old Homeplace is a pleasant restaurant in Goreville in Johnson County, and it lies between Union and Williamson Counties, where most of our clan lives. Those who could make it met there for dinner one night, and then the traditional brothers’ breakfast was also there. Since their brother Kenny’s death, often the three remaining brothers only fill one table with just them and our sister-in-law Ginger and maybe a nephew or grandchild or two. But quite a few tables had to be put together for the fifteen who breakfasted together on Saturday. Kenny’s son Bryce was there to everyone’s joy, and Ernestine and crew and Vicki Sue had lunched with her Aunt Opal and her cousin Kyna the day before. Life goes on.

Our daughter Mary Ellen was down from central Illinois and was able to make the breakfast. Then after she and Brianna returned from taking Trent to his friend’s graduation party Saturday night, their family was sleeping at the new place they have bought where they had been renting a large building to store their combine this winter. Brian and a young farm hand are still busy farming, but Mary Ellen was using her Memorial Day off to paint some of the rooms in their new Williamson County home.

She and Brianna came over on Sunday afternoon to watch the last day of the NCAA Super Regional softball tournament on television. Because the Saturday 3-2 game had been so very close, and I was convinced that a Georgia player called out at home had really been safe, I expected Georgia to come back and win that second game. This would cause the two teams to play a third game since the tournament winner had to win two out of three games to be one of the eight teams to go on to the NCAA World Series in Oklahoma City.

That is exactly what happened. Senior pitcher Erin Arevalo gave up just two hits to earn a complete game win of 1-0. After Garry and Ginger showed up to say a final farewell to Ernestine and family, there were nine of us in the Woodsong family room rooting for Georgia and getting especially excited when we saw Gerry or Tara. I was up in the kitchen briefly and missed seeing Vickie, Brian, Aidan, and Maddux in the crowd.

Thirty minutes later after our win, the third game was played in that Knoxville heat. The game remained scoreless for four innings. Again Erin Arevalo pitched. Then Georgia scored and we thought the game was ours. But two runs by Tennessee in the sixth inning gave them the game. It broke our hearts for Erin Arevalo, who had given such a stellar performance, to not go back to the World Series as a senior. We could tell it broke all the Georgia players’ hearts and certainly Tara’s. But if anyone beat them, Georgia would want it to be Tennessee, another SEC team filled with friends. Life goes on.

Partly to get our minds off the game, but mostly to please Emmy, we piled into the car and went to Barb and Keith’s for the evening so Emmy could play with their great granddaughter Gracie, who I think had just finished second grade. She was visiting and had brought the three fat little puppies in the house.

Gracie and Emmy were immediately enraptured with each other—Gracie being proud of taking care of Emmy and Emmy delighting in being considered a big girl to play with Gracie. They went into the room Barbara has always used for kids, and wallowed with the puppies on the carpet there. Leah and the rest of us adults were not allowed in there, but ever so often the two little girls would come out either to get one of Barbara’s throws to wrap a puppy in or to show us something, including Gracie pushing Emmy on Barbara’ s fancy walker with the three pups snuggling in its large basket. Of course, Emmy would have stayed forever, but eventually we had to go although we did run by the Cedars’ house one more time so that they could say goodbye to Katherine, David, and Sam.

Yesterday morning was reserved for breakfast, packing, and lunch. There was more visiting when Mary Ellen came over to say goodbye and bring Emmy a stuffed animal gift to remember her trip with, and then she returned to her paint work. Lunch was leftovers from the week, and then the afternoon leave taking took over when Vicki arrived.

Gerald and I had just finished supper, and he’d gone back outside to work. I’d cleaned the supper dishes and gone out on the deck to read and swing awhile. And then three grandkids—Trent, Brianna, and Sam--showed up with the explanation that their mom had evidently had enough of their help with the painting. They were in top form enjoying being together, and were soon swinging on the deck while Gerald and I sat with them in lawn chairs there. After milk and cookies at the kitchen table, they went down to their grandkid den to do whatever they find to do there—always something different—and they also visited my computer to connect with friends before they headed home. Life goes on.

Sumertime Brings Family Visits--Ernie, Leah, and Emmy

Happy squeals, giggles, uninhibited howls of displeasure when the occasion calls for it, and the patter of little footsteps have filled our home this week. It is a pleasant addition to the household to have this tiny little girl, who won’t be three until June 6, making all that noise. With blonde hair, light blue eyes, and an almost perpetual little smile, our great niece Emerson has an interest in everything she sees and a near unlimited amount of energy. Fortunately, she has a doting grammy and an involved mother taking constant care of her as she comes to visit in strange homes and meet all her many relatives here in Southern Illinois.

Ernestine is Gerald and his brothers’ only sister. She and her daughter Leah, haven’t been here from Rock Springs, Wyoming, since Emmy was ten months old. Although there have many adorable phone photos sent since then, of course, nothing is a good as getting to experience this particular slice of Emmy’s childhood.

Raised in a stimulating home and with much time spent with her grandparents in their book-laden home, Emmy knew all about the farm life that her grandmother Ernestine lived as a little girl. So she came here with expectations of horses and cows and feeding chickens—just like she has seen in her books. Since we have none of those animals on our farm anymore, it is probably for the best that she first visited our brothers’ farms before Gerald went to Union County and brought Ernie, Leah, and Emmy up to finish their visit here with us at Woodsong.

At Garry and Ginger’s, there were multiple kittens, and she was taken by Uncle Garry through his fields on his four-wheeler and saw the wheat that bread is made from and fields of corn and soybeans growing in neat rows. It was there that she began to learn she has all kinds of cousins here in addition to the single cousin she has back in Wyoming.

Ernestine’s cousin Judy and husband Morris had a pen of ducks just waiting for a little girl to enjoy, and Keith and Barbara’s place is a veritable paradise for a little animal lover. Ducks and geese and chickens and rabbits abound there. I don’t think Barbara still has terrapins peeking out from under furniture in her living room, and I know the raccoon she once had was long ago released, but Keith’s dog Hash is ready to be petted and will always travel with Keith, who is more than ready to show off his cattle herd. Emmy liked the ones with horns best and has photos to take home to show her family back in Wyoming.

Best of all, perhaps, was Emmy’s trip to Keith and Barbara’s son Tim and wife Glenda’s farm just down the road. In addition to more dogs and puppies, there are horses and an arena there. Just as Emmy was not afraid of any dog including her cousin Sam’s huge golden doodle when she visited Katherine last night, she was right at home in her cousins’ arms on top of a horse.

At our house, she likes Jake, and we have shown her the fireflies, martins, and hummingbirds. Going out into the yard after dark with her grandmother, she wondered for the first time if she needed to be afraid. “What is that noise?” she asked. Ernestine had to assure her that the crickets and frogs down at the lake were not coming up to get her.

She seemingly adjusted to farm life very well because she announced to her mother that farm girls did not need to take a nightly bath. No one is quite sure where she got that information, but she sure looked sweet after that bath with a shiny face, snuggly clean pajamas, and her shiny shampooed hair.

Making money flow to the writer--Kathie DeNosky knows how

Standing at the ironing board pressing Gerald’s short-sleeve summer shirts this afternoon, I mulled over last night’s Southern Illinois Writers Guild meeting and re-enjoyed it.

Our president Cindy Gunnin gave us a very helpful handout and a brief update on a young writer who recently not only had her anthology essay totally changed in serious bad ways but was then scolded by the scam publisher from whom she had planned to buy copies.

Cindy introduced us to James D. Macdonald’s advice, which came about when he became angry over an agent taking advantage of a novice writer. Macdonald called this Yog’s Law, and this rule is one that every writer should hard wire into his/her brain: Money flows toward the writer. That simply means that if anyone ever asks for money to publish you or to be your agent, you know that person is a fraud and not to be trusted.

Not being a science fiction/fantasy reader, I was unfamiliar with the names of Macdonald and his wife Dr. Debra Doyle or the titles of their many books, but actually I had read about some of his efforts to protect writers from unscrupulous publishers and the so-called agents and editors who prey on our desire to be published. Just googling and surfing a bit made me want to know more about these two authors. (Although I read little fiction, I like to know about real people, such as Macdonald and Doyle.)

Cindy Gunnin’s handout was the perfect segue into introducing Kathie DeNosky, our evening’s speaker. Kathie is the author of more than 30 romance novels with a world-wide reading audience who has sold over 30 million books for Harlequin. A life-long resident of Southern Illinois, this former housewife definitely has money flowing in the right direction to allow her to live on her writing career income.

Kathie was generous in sharing her experiences. She spoke of both the bad and good in her life as a well-known writer. (Some negatives were weight gain and shoulder damage from all the keyboard time and getting letters from inmates, which finally caused her to ask to be on the FBI’s no contact list.) Obviously the good outweighs any disadvantages for her or she would not keep writing. It was plain to me that accomplishing her goals has demanded intelligence, talent, perseverance, focus, flexibility, and hard work that many of us lack. I came away impressed not only with her work ethic and determination, but also with her humor, warmth, and the meticulous research that has not only pleased her publisher but earned fans from around the world. I am not a romance reader although I did read her first two books, and they are on the book shelves with my collection of local writers’ books. Again as with Macdonald and Doyle, I found myself delighting in coming to better know this real live writer who is even more fascinating than her created characters.

Kathie admits that when she is up against a deadline and is putting in fourteen-hour days, she gets what she calls “deadline dementia.” She had just the previous morning completed two books she has written since the middle of February. At this point, Cindy reminded Kathie that she had also revised a book during that same exhausting time frame. Now Kathie has until sometime in August to complete her next romance, and she made it clear she is happy to anticipate a slower pace, which will allow her to do some living in addition to writing.

During the eight years she struggled to learn her craft, she wrote four or five romances and collected a slew of rejection letters while doing so. However, once her first book was accepted twelve years ago by Harlequin, she has been in constant demand by them. She quickly secured an agent and turned all time-consuming negotiating over to him. She told her editor then that this opportunity was one she craved and she was willing to work hard to continue producing for them.

She has done that—even through the long illness of her late husband, Charlie, who in her earliest years had served as her business manager. Despite caring for him with medical procedures that I know must have been time-consuming and demanding, Kathie said she kept turning out the contracted books her publisher wanted. She usually writes at night when the phone is not ringing, and if anyone rings her doorbell, she doesn’t intend to answer it anyway.

She knew writing would have to be her career and means of support after she lost her husband, and she forced herself to sit at the computer and turn out books through this difficult time. (Her youngest child had just graduated high school when her first book sold, and although she had enjoyed teaching craft classes in folk art and basket weaving at a local store, she did not want to depend on those skills for her living.) I would imagine writing was also a means to escape the sadness that her husband’s illness caused her.

She admitted the only time she has not written in the twelve years since her first book was published was after his death, as she found it very hard to write of romance when she had just lost the love of her life. Also she was suddenly plunged into the business end of her writing, and she had to file her own income taxes and make crucial decisions on her own. She took the time she needed to grieve and adjust and then returned to the second love of her life—using her imagination to tell stories.

Despite explaining drawbacks in a writing career to us, she was quick to share the joys of working for a traditional publisher who takes care of all the editing, printing, promoting, distributing, and legal aspects of her career. (If someone pirates and posts one of her books online, she will call Harlequin and the post will disappear within the hour.) All she has to do is write. The shelf life of romance novels is extremely brief before they are yanked for return, but Harlequin also puts her books online and translates them and ships them abroad. So she was able to tell us that even her first book has never gone out of print. The royalty checks for it and the others are still coming in--no wonder with her books published in 29 languages.

Her use of time was interesting. She doesn’t like to fly, so when she goes to see her son and wife and two grandbabies on the west coast, she goes by train--in her own compartment with bed and bathroom and her laptop. She has two whole days to write without interruptions before she arrives at her loved ones’ home. (And the same coming back, of course.) By using their location for one of her novels, she is able to sightsee and complete area research in addition to visiting. She schedules spring and fall visits to the Smokies and shuts herself up to write without interruptions while enjoying the mountains and the markets that she loves.
It was there that a friend phoned her that she had made the USA Today best seller list. She thought her friend was kidding, but she went down the street and found the paper and saw her name on the same page as the likes of John Grisham. That she was last on the list did not take away her awe and pleasure, and she later learned she was the first Harlequin author to make the list.

She was open to answer questions from the aspiring writers listening to her. Yes, she could usually complete a book in two or three months. (The shortest time she ever accomplished was three weeks.) At first she sent a synopsis and a number of chapters to show she could write. But since her books sold well, she quickly was able to cut that to a synopsis and three chapters and then one chapter. After selling fifteen or twenty books to Harlequin, she was finally only asked to send them a synopsis, and her editor would say go ahead with it. Most of the books in the line she writes for contain nine or ten chapters. How many pages are in her synopsis? She said usually eight to twelve pages and that becomes her roadmap for the book.

She often concludes with an epilogue because readers want to know what happened in the future. They want a happy ending, and she always gives them that. She gave us a happy evening also, and I am sure some of us went home dreaming of that phone call when a publisher says yes. And instead of being asked for money to see one’s book in print, the message would include that the advance would soon be arriving and money would be flowing in the writer’s direction.

The Whirring of Wings and Whizzing Softballs

The hummingbirds are back. It took a day or two before one must have found the feeders and told their friends. Tonight the air on the lake side of our house was literally alive with birds.

The martins were chirping noisily on the long perches on the monster house Gerald built for them near our deck. Then suddenly they or a group from yet another martin apartment building on other side of our house would take flight. Too many birds to count would fill the air flying up and down and swooping over my head seeming to rejoice at their ability to do acrobatics together in the air.

At the same time, the tiny hummers were flying in and out and onto the feeder in front of me with their whirring wings adding to the twilight bird music. I relaxed after a lovely day of Bible study, worship, and family time until with daylight gradually fading, it became too chilly to linger outside any longer without a sweater.

On Friday, Gerald took the van up to the Rehabilitation Institute to bring Katherine home from Saint Louis, so that her husband David did not have to miss work. Along with a beautiful bouquet and special cake and goodies, David and son Sam had a huge welcome home banner waiting for her as she rolled into the house. She seems considerably stronger.

We were all watching the Georgia Bulldogs play a tremendous game of softball against Alabama, but as soon as possible we left for the farm to see the end of the game there while the Cedar family were together again after two and a half weeks. Unfortunately, despite the tremendous game pitched by Erin Arevalo, one home run left the ending score 1-0 in favor of the Crimson Tide.

That put our Georgia team out of their single elimination Conference tournament, but we were comforted by knowing that earlier that day, our Southern Illinois University Salukis had beaten the number one seed and would be playing for the Missouri Valley Conference championship the next day.

Yesterday after a hurried lunch, phone calls assured us that Mary Ellen and Brianna had arrived from their home in central Illinois and would go with Gerald and me to see SIUC play. They were waiting beside the road at the new farm house their family recently bought to give Brian yet more acreage. MET and Bri jumped in, and we stopped only to leave a car seat at our sister-in-law Opal’s house. That was so our niece Vicki Sue could pick it up and have safe transportation for our great niece Emerson from Wyoming. Vicki picks up Gerald’s sister Ernestine, her daughter Leah, and little Emmie in Saint Louis this coming Friday.

Mary Ellen could not keep from being upset at not being able to take time to visit with her Aunt Opal, who was outside with a plant sale going on opposite her neighbor’s yard sale. But we had to hurry onto Carbondale and the stadium. Gerald dropped us off at the gate and found a place to park while we found seats inside.

What should have been a thrill to see SIUC place second in their conference was diluted by the lopsided score, but we still clapped loudly when that second-place trophy was awarded. That trophy does not come without lots of dedication and hard work by young women who also manage to study and take final exams as well as attending practices. But meeting our granddaughter Erin for pizza at Pagliai’s after their team meeting did soften our disappointment.

We agreed to meet again at Woodsong for lunch today although Gerald would have gladly taken us out to eat for Mother’s Day. But I’m not too enthusiastic about waiting in line at an eatery on a holiday. So I thawed a couple small roasts and stuck them in the oven with veggies before we left for our village church at 9 a.m. The Cedars came out, and I was able to hear a little more of the new therapies that the St. Louis multiple sclerosis doctors are recommending for Katherine. Also good news is the return of a favorite young woman aide from a couple of summers ago, who is moving into their spare bedroom.

Our evening ended tonight when Gerald and I watched the NAAC Selection Show for Division I Softball. The 64 teams in the nation who will be playing in the sixteen Regionals this coming weekend were announced. Number 10 ranked Georgia will be hosting their regional in Athens, and I am sure Erin was happy to see her alma mater Texas A&M ranking 8th and hosting their regional. Our entire family was bound to have been pleased to hear praises for Mel Dumezich at A&M, who is a Southern Force alum, and, of course,for Georgia’s Erin Arevalo. Their whizzing softballs have earned them well-deserved recognition.

Now I suppose the birds are bedded down for the night, and Gerald is as well after falling asleep in his recliner the minute the selection show finished. Probably it’s time for me to also come to the end of a good day as soon as I make the morning coffee.

Just Swingin'

When we planned our house over a decade ago, I thought we would use our deck looking out on our little lake a lot. We and guests do go in and out and stand out there often enjoying the view and the air, but we do not use it as much as I anticipated. Only occasionally do we actually sit and have long conversations out there. It so often seems too hot or too cold if not raining.

I thought Gerald and I might eat out there frequently. We don’t. It is easier and quicker to serve meals inside the kitchen than on the outside table; and when Gerald comes in from outside work, I figure he enjoys the air conditioning inside as we watch the view. We can also watch the birds at the feeder from inside, but the birds would not likely gather there if we were sitting outside.

The birds are one of the things we have enjoyed most about the deck, but they are also one reason we use it less. The bird droppings are not always as attractive as the birds—especially when a splatter hits a newly washed window.

In my imagination, I planned dinner parties for the deck, but except for an occasional picnic meal for grandkids, no dinner parties have happened. I thought I would read out there, but the very first summer we lived here, I kept getting rained out when I tried that and, therefore, never took up the habit.

A friend told me she would sip her morning coffee out there, and it sounded so good that occasionally I do that. This week I have a couple of times. I enjoyed as always the martins swooping by with their lovely aerial ballet. I was reminded it was time to cook up some nectar and put out the hummingbird feeders as I always like having them fly close to my head when I sit in that swing in the summer time. So when Gerald and I shopped at Kroger on senior day Wednesday, I picked up a new feeder on sale to go with the ones I need to get out from last summer. Now I must make that nectar.

I talked by phone with Katherine at the Rehabilitation Institute of St. Louis last night. She asked how her dad was, and I was able to give her good reports since he spent Wednesday going to appointments. First he had a dental appointment and they checked out his new partial with a wax mold. The dentist and his father (who makes the dentures) will refine it further, and Gerald was well pleased. Then he hurried up to Benton to get a part for our son-in-law Brian who is working night and day with the planting right now.

We’d agreed on an early lunch, but Gerald had to eat hurriedly so we could leave for Carbondale for his two appointments there. I traveled along so that I could recycle the stuff accumulated in the garage. I’d packed both the trunk and the back seat of the car the afternoon before with newspapers, cardboard, tin cans, plastic, and glass. I was able to accomplish that unloading task while he was pronounced in good shape by his cardiologist who monitors his atrial fibrillation. I also had time to take my Birkenstocks to Shawnee Trails to be sent off and resoled.

We had a little time before an appointment at The Hearing Place, so we visited the near-by air conditioned McDonnell’s and Gerald treated us with a cup of ice cream and diet cola. I had Darrel Dexter’s book I am reading to entertain myself while he saw John Reimbold, and then we had time for two more errands before we stopped at senior day at Kroger. Gerald helped me get the trunk load of groceries (a month’s supply of many items) inside before we ate the on-sale tacos we’d picked up at a Marion drive-in window. Then he did another task either in his shop or for Brian I cannot remember which. Anyhow I felt the busy day should prove to Katherine that her dad was in good shape.

Today Brian has finished planting our farm and our sister-in-law Opal’s farm, and Gerald is helping him move machinery over to the acres that Brian rents near Harrisburg. Everyone will breathe a sign of relief when all the crops are in for everyone. Of course, by then I think Brian’s wheat crops will need harvesting. Those fields are beautiful right now.

It is a busy time for farmers, but I may go sit on the swing again tomorrow and see if I have attracted any hummingbirds yet.

Longest Game in History

Gerald and I just watched the longest softball game in both Georgia and Louisiana State University history. UGA won 1-0 in the 15th inning. The pitching duel between LSU’s Rachele Fico and the Dawgs’ Erin Arevalo was amazing, and as the announcer said as we watched Game Tracker, neither pitcher deserved to lose.
Until the 10th inning, Arevalo had pitched a no hitter. After the one hit then, she struck out 13 consecutive batters.

Georgia got several hits off Fico, but could not score and kept leaving runners on base. The announcer and everyone thought they had scored in the 14th when a runner came home from third, but then found out the batter was called out for hitting out of the batters box. So the game continued through the bottom half of the inning when Arevalo quickly shut LSU down again.

I was feeling sorry for both pitchers knowing they must be very tired, but the announcer kept saying that Arevalo just got better and better during those last record breaking innings.

There will be another game tomorrow and the next day, so they should be very interesting.

Southern Illinois University Carbondale’s softball team will be observing Senior Weekend at home when they play a double header against Northern Iowa tomorrow and a third game against them on Sunday.

We are hoping all the Dawgs win tomorrow—Georgia Bulldogs and Southern Salukis. In the meantime, Gerald has just put our little dog Jake up for the night, and we are heading to bed here at Woodsong. We are tired from all the excitement.

Busy Busy

A friend down in Florida phoned and indicated she had noticed my slowed-down blogging. That was good to hear. It is nice to be missed. Especially as a writer.

I like to stay busy. However, sometimes life throws you a series of activities, duties, and responsibilities that keep you not just in your chronically behind state but rather into a stop-and-take-care-of-the-most-important-things-now state. That seems to be where I am recently. Interestingly, just pausing and limiting my activities seems to sometimes feel less busy. Focusing on the necessary, I call it. I can’t say if that is good or bad, but what has to be has to be.

Our daughter Katherine has been very ill, and one of the causes of my busyness is sitting at the dining room table with papers spread out making calls to people on various caregiver lists. This is the second time since Christmas I have had this gig.

After my first efforts, Katherine had secured an excellent night worker who transferred her very well, but almost immediately that woman was hospitalized and cannot work at this time although she asked to be allowed to work again when she gets well.

The agencies that provide the lists of caretakers for their populations (Hospice, aging, disabilities) have no obligation to provide me the lists and are just doing so as a service, and I am very grateful. Nevertheless, although the lists have recent dates on them, they are hopelessly out of date.

One woman proudly handed me a new list and said it was all updated. When I started working with it, I could see it was almost identical to the list a couple months before with its many discontinued phones. Part of that particular problem, of course, is the trend toward giving up house phones and going to cell phones. But cell phone numbers are also often discontinued, message boxes full or never set up.

Calling these potential caregivers is an interesting experience. I had to smile when I called one number and the man answering said, “She has not lived here for five years.” I figured he was an exasperated ex-husband. Maybe not. I didn’t ask.

I also get amused at the people who are looking for work who may answer the telephone with a gruff voice and maybe just one lazy-sounding syllable: Lo. Then when you explain why you are phoning, they use a completely different voice. Not so amusing, however, is my learning that some people with a very pleasing voice turn out to have assault records. I have had to admit that I cannot judge character by voices. (At one time I thought John Edwards seemed liked a kind upright man. How else could he have won someone like his wife? Obviously I cannot judge character. At least, that was before I learned about the price of his haircut, which gave him away.) Sorry for my digression.

Many on the lists are people who merely sit with the elderly or ill person. That is a necessary service often times, but in our daughter’s situation, she needs care—not just someone to visit and serve as a companion or watch her sleep. But you cannot know what services a person is offering when all that is listed is a phone number. Some people do list one line of information about themselves in terms of their training and what services they offer. Those are the ones I called first.

People on the list are often now employed, and I am grateful for their sakes that they are. Many only have part-time jobs, however. If applicants want part-time jobs to coordinate with their child-care and homemaking duties, that is great. But most want more work; yet it is difficult to coordinate your needs with someone who already works MWF or from 9 a.m. to 1 p.m.

I think the majority of workers would like to work full-time for ordinary eight-hour shifts and be paid accordingly. Yet most people in need of a caregiver cannot afford to pay for even eight hour care, let alone the 24/7 care they may need—nor can the government agencies that help provide care. Consequently, these personal assistants and caregivers have great difficulty making a decent income.

I remember years ago when trying to help young mothers find work that many of them could only find restaurant work for two or three hours at a time and then have to drive back to work several hours later for another couple hours work during the supper rush. Driving to work twice instead of once a day ate up a lot of their income, and that was before gas was so high. These caregivers that I am calling often combine two or even three part-time jobs and, therefore, have these same gas concerns as they leave one home and hurry on to a second care-giving job in another town.

Often there is sadness in the voices of the women I call. (Most of the caregivers on the lists are women.) They need a job now because they have just lost their last job due to the death of the aged patient they had grown very fond of. Or they may be very aware that they will soon lose their client to death and consequently lose their income and ask me to call back later. There is no security in this line of work.

As wonderful as many caregivers are—and many are absolute saints—this seeking applicants for Katherine to interview has made me cynical. What many say they can do has no relation to what they really can. She has had some horrific experiences of being dropped, left hanging from a Hoyer, and other even worst offences.

I have been shocked at people who sounded as if they desperately want a job, and then that same person fails to show up for the interview appointment given them. Nor do they phone to cancel or explain. This has happened three times since Christmas. It is hard for me to realize someone could be that dishonest. The lack of consideration for my daughter’s time and efforts to get ready for the appointment makes me glad that person showed her true colors, however.

Suddenly right now Katherine does not need the care I have been busy phoning about. On Tuesday, David took her to an 8 a.m. appointment in Saint Louis with a Fellow working on a special Multiple Sclerosis study under Dr. Barbara Green with offices in the Barnes-Jewish Hospital complex. Unexpectedly, they asked Katherine to stay for tests and further consultation to see if they can stop the progression of this disease.

Today is Katherine’s birthday, and she spent it in the hospital keeping very busy with doctors and technicians in and out of her room all day. She missed the dozen roses her brother Gerry and wife Vickie sent to her home in Marion since they did not know she was in the hospital. Mary Ellen found out after she had ordered flowers to Katherine’s house, so she was able to change her order to Saint Louis. The best news today was that on Monday, she is going down the street to a rehab facility.

Our Little Lion

Our daughter Jeannie early on dubbed her first born her little lion. With her flowing blond hair and her lion-hearted enthusiasm for life,it was a fitting title for our Leslie. This past weekend Leslie’s family and her two grandmothers traveled from Illinois to Nashville, Tennessee, to enjoy Leslie’s senior recitals at Belmont University and to attend her bridal shower on Saturday. So did two of her high school girl friends—beautiful young women who prove that brains and beauty go together. Her fiancé Mike’s parents came all the way from Ohio, and her Uncle Scott’s family all the way from Michigan. We were not disappointed.

Somehow our little lion juggled all the out-of-state company, thrilled us with her singing, impressed us with her local bridesmaids who gave her such a fun-filled pleasant Saturday afternoon party, and I think she even managed to get her final paper done that was due this morning!

Jeannie and her youngest child, Cecelie, had been at Woodsong since before Easter. Her husband Rick met his mother, Rosy Eiler, and they picked up the only son, Elijah, at Illinois Normal. Cecelie was not only excited to see her daddy, brother, and grandmother, she was eagerly awaiting her first eye glasses that Rick was delivering to her. They were a very cute addition to her braids she has attitudinized in recent weeks. Since the group was arriving at Woodsong late Wednesday night, the plan was for everyone to sleep in Thursday morning.

I left breakfast on the kitchen table, and I was able to keep an early Thursday morning hair appointment before I ran by Katherine’s. So typical of her difficult life was the fact that the aide she had scheduled to go with their family so she could attend Leslie’s events had ended up in the hospital the week before. On top of that, her daytime aide’s daughter went to the hospital to have her baby. So that aide was off work unexpectedly on Thursday and part of other days. Katherine had made hotel reservations before any of us, and she had to cancel when all efforts to get another aide fell through. She has grown used to grieving so many things she can not do. We grieved with her that she could not make this longed-for trip to her old Nashville stomping grounds to participate in her special niece’s special times.

Back at Woodsong, we ate a hurried lunch, told Gerald and Jake goodbye, and six of us piled into the Eiler van for music city. Rick wanted to show the campus to his mother. Belmont in all its springtime glory was a lovely spectacle indeed. Rick found parking in the parking garage, and we had an excellent dinner in the university cafeteria with its many choices of entrees, veggies, and salads. There was no room for the enjoying the lavish dessert bar, although I think Elijah succeeded.

We did not want to bother Leslie while she was readying for the 6:30 rock ensemble recital, but she made time to greet us anyhow. Leslie had completed her ensemble of black jeans and boots with a thrift-shop T shirt that she deeply fringed. Her mother could not have been more pleased. Why? The shirt from someone’s school team proclaimed: Lion Challenge.

We were seated near the front of Massey Concert Hall as soon as they would let us in, and soon we were listening to the talented guitarists Cody Keener, Carter Murphy, Nathan Phelps, Logan Ramp, and Eric Shadrick. Sheree Pantuso and Matthew Roberts pleased us on their keyboards. Andrew Fleming and Bryant Lowry amazed us with their drumming. But, of course, for the Eiler gang, the star we loved most was the vocalist, our little blond lion. The only criticism was the concert was too short.

We took Leslie and Mike out to eat afterwards although Mike was getting up at 4:00 the next morning for an early appointment with a fitness client at his gym. Elijah and Cecelie went home to their sister Les’s apartment. Even though our desire was an early bedtime, it was quite late when we finally settled in our hotel rooms. But we could and did sleep in Friday morning before we started another afternoon of sight seeing and then meeting up with the Eilers coming from Michigan.

I had not seen Rick’s brother Scott since he ushered me into our village church at Jeannie and Rick’s wedding in 1987. Although I had never met his wife Susan and their daughters Stephanie, Madelyn, and Lizzie, I felt like I knew them from the photos and stories down through the years. It was nice to meet them in person. Cecelie was delighted with her cousin companions, and they started giggling and probably didn’t stop until we left Saturday evening.

It was funny that when Jeannie went to the Kroger store, where Leslie works part time, to get flowers for her recital, she not only met up with Les’s friend, the flower lady, but surprisingly she met up with Mike’s parents and his grandmother in the store. Soon we were all in Massey Hall for the 8 p.m. recital visiting until they allowed us in.

Accompanied by Rose Rodgers on the viola, Melodie Morris on cello, Carleton Coggins and fiancé Michael Thompson on electric guitars, Johnny Williamson on acoustic guitar, Sheree Pantuso on keys, and Paxton Williams on bass, Leslie looked beautiful and sang with her usual lion-hearted enthusiasm. I wished for more musical knowledge so I could really appreciate all the talent I was hearing. We were all glad to see Bryan Lowry again on drums although he was more restrained than the night before, and I don’t think he broke a single drum stick. Five numbers were definitely not enough, so our only criticism again was the program was too short.

We wanted to stay for yet another recital later, but we were hungry and were ready to enjoy the wonderful dinner Rosy treated us to. Part of the fun was watching Cecelie and Elijah at the booth with their cousins.

Saturday was filled with packing, check out, and various people meeting up before all the women went to the bridal shower. First we had all managed to go by Leslie’s apartment she shares with a roommate Bridgett after she tired of dorm life. I was eager to see this under-the-eaves place that Les calls “the shire.” There was generous back-yard parking, and we took an outside wooden staircase up to a generous deck looking out on a tree-shaded lawn.

As long as you are not tall, the apartment seemed amazingly large—plenty of room for siblings to bunk out. The two bedrooms were joined in the middle by a living room, with a small kitchen and bathroom in back. In front under a window, there was a cute little cubby hole with a couch.

We hurried from there to the bridal shower in “The Living Room” at Leslie and Mike’s church. Since one of Leslies’ many enthusiasms is British life, the theme was a royal tea with the invitation telling us hats and pearls were optional. The hats were definitely fun, and Cecelie decided instead of dressing up that she would go as the Royal Rebel with a British flag shirt and pigtails under a red bandana.

The bridesmaids, Jenny and Anna Catherine, had done an extraordinary job of filling the large room with beautiful flowers and refreshment tables with luscious hor doures in addition to the tea and punch on one end of the room with lovely decorated white tables and chairs on the other. There was a special cake for Mike (who was not present, of course) and special sugar cookies with British décor. After we ate, we gathered in the middle for games directed by Helen Bush, and then Leslie sat in her special settee to open all the pretty wrapped gifts for her entry into the role of homemaker.

She kept us laughing, and older women noted that this generation did not seem to even know the old custom of making much fuss about how many ribbons the bride-to-be might break—indicating how many children she might have. Obviously these bright young women have other goals in life than just creating children, but I do not doubt they will do a good job with the babies also. Jenny’s mother had driven from a town a couple hours away to help with food and dishes and to take photos. Another friend was also snapping, so there were photos to put up on the Internet for Katherine to see.

People were enjoying being together, but we finished final visiting at the party, and took off for the last item on our agenda—to see where Leslie and Mike will be moving in late June. They are near downtown on a tree-lined road going back into the hills. The apartment duplex is built into the side of a hill with a large staircase leading to their front door, which the landlord is going to paint red just for Leslie. There are new appliances waiting them in the living/kitchen area and place for a washer/dryer hook-up. They have an idea for putting a shelf above the laundry area to make more counter space. Everything is clean and inviting, and the landlord and landlady, who are holding the apartment for them, live next door and keep all the neat green lawns around the complex in good shape. As well as the master bedroom, there is a room for the couple to share as an office for some of the freelance music work they plan to do. After college housing, this new home is a step up in life for them.

All good things must end, and Rosy and Rick had to say goodbyes to their Michigan loved ones while Cecelie and Elijah hugged the cousins one last time. It was beginning to darken as we left for Woodsong for a night’s sleep before the Illinois Eilers left for the north end of our state on Sunday morning.

Unsuccessful efforts had been made both nights to Skype the recitals for Katherine, but Jeannie finally had to settle for putting the video tape on Facebook, which Leslie did before Saturday morning. You can watch it too by going to her Leslie Eiler home page on Facebook. If you do, I hope you enjoy hearing our little lion roar.

Easter and its Aftermath

Throughout the weekend, it was not uncommon for a dozen or more pairs of shoes to be kicked off in the front hall and several at the backdoor. (I never taught my kids to take their shoes off on entering the house, although Gerald always conscientiously changed into house slippers when he came in from the hog barns. I would never insist or even suggest folks take off their shoes here at Woodsong, but, evidently, my kids have taught the grandkids this nice habit. I am sure it has saved a lot of dirt being tracked onto the carpet, so I am thankful.) Yet the row of shoes lined up always amuses me, and I had Gerald take a photo of it once for a souvenir.

Jeannie and Cecelie were already here, and Gerry had come in Thursday for the memorial service for his high school basketball coach. Others also started arriving on Thursday and were coming and going all weekend. Elijah came down from Illinois State on the train, and Jeannie and the kids all met him in Carbondale Friday evening.

Saturday was our oldest grandchild Tara’s birthday, and although we would have loved to have had the Archibalds and those three little great grandsons here, we were happy for them that they were able to have quality family time together all weekend in Georgia without the pressure of travel.

Saturday afternoon a large number of the family attended granddaughter Erin’s SIUC softball game against Indiana State. And it was fun to see the Salukis win. That was where we met up with Vickie and her mother, Geri Ann and her friend Bridgett who’d arrived at Shirley’s from Georgia. We came home for sandwiches, but I did fry the nice mess of fish for Trent and Sam that they caught that morning. I was grateful that our son-in-law David took them home and cleaned them for us while we were at the game.

Later Gerry, Vickie, and others fished and caught a huge catch, which Gerry cleaned and put in the freezer. As in childhood, Mary Ellen was his friend and cleaned up the electric knife he used, and she put it in the garage with hopes of eliminating the fish smell before he cut the ham with it on Sunday. No, it didn’t work, but as Gerry explained, that is now our fish-cleaning knife. Ha. It is back in the garage still airing out, but I suspect I need to shop for another knife for Thanksgiving.

Despite getting to bed late, everyone arose Sunday morning for church. Gerald and I were pleased to have grandsons Trent and Elijah in our young adult Sunday School class at Center. Elijah sang for us in the worship service, and I insisted he play and sing again at Woodsong after dinner so his mother, who had been at Katherine's could hear him.

We were all eager to meet Erin’s boyfriend on Sunday because we liked the story that he had once been her third grade boyfriend at Harrisburg before their family moved to Johnston City. Sometime or other the two had re-connected on Facebook and ran around with the same group before they started dating. I won’t tell them that when they took their walk around the lake that one grandchild could not resist using the binoculars we keep for bird watching.

Later in the afternoon several were out on the lake without a paddle in the old ocean-going fishing boat that Gerry’s used down in Mexico. When the motor died on them, they had an adventure. I was never quite sure how it all ended, but I did look out and saw a crew in the paddle boat towing the bigger boat in.

The Georgia gang left later Sunday afternoon to go a second Easter meal that evening at Gma Shirley’s house. This was with my daughter-in-law Vickie’s siblings and their families. Then they were back on the road Sunday night to Georgia to be there for early morning batting practice—just as Erin was going to be at early morning batting practice at SIUC.

Brian and Mary Ellen were up at their new place and some of us followed Mary there to see the wonderful vintage barn. She had to go back to central Illinois yet that night, but Brian and Gerald had business breakfast plans in Vienna yesterday morning to meet up with some guys who gather there every morning.

After people started leaving, the remaining cousins and I went to Southfork to Sam’s other grandparents’ home where he had had Easter dinner. Katherine and David were there, and she looked very pretty in a new dress, which the necklace Jeannie took her that morning matched perfectly. Sam’s Grandma Darlene offered us carrot cake, but we were still much too full to indulge. After the kids visited there awhile and went down to their lake, we headed back to Woodsong for their final time together. They had a long agenda of last minute plans to carry out, and I went to bed by l0 or 11.

I slept in yesterday. So did Sam and Cecelie. When I got up, there were only two pair of extra shoes at the front door and two at the back door. That is because there were only those two grandkids left at Woodsong out of the eight plus a couple of their friends who were here over the weekend.

Jeannie had left at 4 a.m. to get Elijah to an 8 o’clock at Bloomington. She was back to Woodsong yesterday afternoon, but she took a nap rather than a bike ride. Brianna had already woke up on her own and taken her brother Trent up to Springfield for his early class.

However, there are three pair of shoes plus one suitcase in the living room left behind accidently by grandkids. They were so busy playing their games, riding the Gator, and doing their last minute visiting long into their final night together that they didn’t plan their packing up too carefully for yesterday morning. But eventually everything will get back to whomever it belongs.

Later in the morning yesterday, I took Sam back home to Marion because his break was over today. Now only Cecelie, our youngest grandchild is here. That is because Elijah and his dad and his dad’s mother are coming through tomorrow night to pick Jeannie, Cec, and me to leave Thursday for Leslie’s big weekend at Belmont in Nashville.

We are still eating boiled eggs that the kids colored. And ham and other leftovers--although I did fix fresh pork chops yesterday for dinner lest we get too tired of the ham. I will devil the remaining eggs tomorrow unless I get ambitious and serve creamed eggs on toast, which I have frequently done with Easter eggs in past years.
My friend Linda came this morning for a couple of hours and ran the vacuum for me. The plunger has been moved from the upstairs bathroom back to the downstairs one, where it was needed yesterday morning. A load of towels and a couple other loads of laundry have been done. Mary Ellen and I did most of the post-dinner clean up on Sunday, and I finished washing a couple of soaking pans yesterday.

Jeannie, Cecelie, and I were even able to run into Marion this morning and shop for vintage hats at Salvation Army for the bridal tea on Saturday. We lunched at Jasone’s so Jeannie could get acquainted with Marion’s newest bed and breakfast in case guests need it in June. I knew Jeannie would love this marvelous old house with lunch room tables covered with lace and where delightful fresh food is served.

I ran by Katherine’s after lunch, and Jeannie went on to do some errands for herself and for me in Carbondale. She had time for her bike ride this afternoon. Gerald and I watched the Georgia ball game against University of South Carolina on his computer and then the slide show of all the photos he took of the fifteen here for Easter dinner. We are winding down from all the fun and excitement.

Dogwood and Azalea Time

The red azaleas are blooming in the front lawn, and our little dogwood out there is so pretty. The garden is plowed and waiting for someone to plant something. The martins are back and more numerous than ever. When resting together, they fill both electric wires all the way down the lane to the mailbox. Their familiar swooping and swirling are a welcome sight overhead.

After our return from Erin’s softball game at the Southern Illinois University field at Carbondale on Saturday afternoon, we quickly tuned in to game tracker to see how Georgia was doing in their second game against fourth-ranked Florida. They completed their rain delay game from Friday night with a victory, but unfortunately lost that afternoon game.

Adjusting to the hot spring weather is draining, so though I wanted to stay on at SIUC for their double header, I was glad to get out of that hot sun. But I sure would have liked to see that second game that resulted in a win for the Salukis--as did Sunday’s.

I tried to stay up and read Saturday night until Jeannie and Cecelie, our youngest grandchild, arrived. But I kept falling asleep and dropping my book. Finally I woke up miserable and went on to bed at midnight. I heard them arrive shortly after. They are on spring break from Freeport. Everyone who visits here soon learns to find a bedroom wherever one is available and make themselves at home.

We visited at the breakfast table Sunday morning, and Jeannie drove on down to Paducah go to church and to visit with her special friend and neighbor, Carrie, from their Carterville/Crainville days. Cecelie went to Sunday School and worship with Gerald and me. Back at Woodsong, I hurriedly warmed leftovers so Gerald could fill his plate to go down and watch the third softball game between Georgia and Florida. (Sadly we lost.)

As soon as I cleaned the kitchen, Cecelie and I went in to Katherine’s. The new weekend and night aide we were so thrilled about, come to find out, had ended up in the hospital on Friday and was still unable to return to work.

Her day-time aide, who is wonderfully dedicated, had lost her father to cancer and was off at the end of the week. She had only begun to work for Katherine a couple of months ago when her father went to the doctor for what he thought was flu. He came home with the diagnosis of two Stage 4 cancers and an order for hospice. One of the things we have learned during Katherine’s illness is that many people have terrible trials and troubles, and that our lives are not the only ones with challenges.

I went in to Katherine’s bedroom to help her with lunch, and we did quite a bit of television watching. Cecelie had stopped off in the family room with her cousin Sam and his friend and neighbor Josh. Katherine explained that this was the day that Josh’s family were having their annual Easter egg hunt for friends in the park, which is just outside her window. So soon the teens had gone to Josh’s house to help prepare for the hunt when hundreds of candy-filled plastic eggs would be splashed in the grass throughout the small city park.

We stayed alert for signs of the hunt, and in late afternoon here came the teens and several adults with plastic grocery bags full of the bright colored eggs. We watched the hiding, which was more like sowing than trying to conceal. When we saw the number of wee little ones helped by parents in addition to all the older children, we knew why it was good the eggs were in abundance and everywhere for the picking. Mamas and daddies were helping the smallest children, some who were barely walking, while the older kids ran grabbing eggs here and there to quickly fill their baskets. It was a beautiful sight of adorable children running and scooping with excitement and joy.

Katherine and I realized it was also April Fools Day, and I guess for the first time in my adult life I did not spring a joke on anyone. She and I tried. We plotted, and she rang up Sam’s cell phone telling him that one of the little kids had escaped the park and ended up their back yard which is beside the park. “You better come and get him,” she texted. And we had a text all ready for her to send him when he showed up saying, “April Fool!” Unfortunately in all the activity, he did not answer the phone, and the joke did not materialize.

Cecelie and I took Sam to his church youth group, and she declined his invitation to go along for the evening. (I had been so proud of how she had enthusiastically participated in the egg hunt with teens older than herself, and I was sort of relieved she did not go on for an evening with yet another group of older kids she was not acquainted with. However, she is unusually poised for 13, and she has spent a life time coping and participating with her older sister and brother’s friends, so she probably would have been comfortable if she had gone with Sam. I was the one feeling shy for her.) At the end of the day, Jeannie was home from Paducah and had taken her bike ride and picked up Cecelie shortly before I had finished helping Katherine with supper and David had come in for their television watching in the family room.

So once again at Woodsong we gathered at the kitchen table to review our days while we snacked, talked about the coming week, and headed to bed.

Jeannie has a very long list of things she must accomplish during her spring break and her week off next week—including faxing plans, if necessary, to her substitute if the art substitute for some reason is unable to be there as planned. She has total confidence that the former art teacher sub will do a good job without coaching, but for a non-art sub to keep grade school kids on task for a 45 minute period is no easy duty. But that concern is next week.

The last two days, Jeannie and Cecelie have been going around town shopping and trying to pare down Jeannie’s list. Of course, Jeannie is also enjoying the beautiful weather and roads and trails in this end of the state as she rides her bike twenty or more miles a day trying to build back up and surpass last fall’s eighty mile achievement before winter weather stopped the riding until recent weeks. After her daughter Leslie’s wedding in our village on June 23, she has plans and hopes of taking her first major bike ride.

Tonight we indulged in the Mackey’s pizza that Gerald and Cecelie brought home from Harrisburg and their Rural King visit there to get a new pedal boat. Jeannie put the bike back on the rear of the van before she and Cecelie refilled the van with their suitcases, Lucky and Leah, and Cec’s violin. I hope they have arrived at Leslie’s apartment by now and get a good night’s sleep before they tackle such things as ordering the wedding invitations and planning Cecelie’s part in the music at the wedding reception. They will be back at the farm by Thursday night for the weekend if all goes well. That is when other family members will be arriving, and Cecelie wants to be here as soon possible after her cousin Brianna arrives.

Next week they will be returning to Nashville for Leslie’s two senior music recitals at Belmont and a bridal shower on Saturday afternoon, and I will be tagging along. Consequently, I began switching winter and summer clothes today as the very warm weather is demanding, I started planning what I will wear for next week’s festivities. What with Easter coming up and a shower gift to purchase, I realize I need to make a list or two also.

Freedom to Speak. Freedom to Quote Scripture.

A hoodie is not a hat. Why does Rep. Gregg Harper, R-Miss, think so? I wore a hoodie last Friday night for warmth at a ball game down in Mississippi. If someone had asked me later if I had a hat on a the game, I would have said no, I was wearing a hoodie. A hoodie is a very useful garment these cool spring evenings. No dictionary nor catalog calls a hoodie a hat. No one except Gregg Harper.

Why did Harper not let Bobby Rush speak? Did Harper just not want Bobby Rush to quote scripture? Or does he disapprove of someone expressing sympathy for the killing of a child? What was Harper’s motive? Why was Rep. Bobby Rush’s freedom of speech taken away? Why do I think that if our Illinois Rep. Bobby Rush had been a white Republican from Mississippi he would have been allowed to speak? Bobby Rush deserved the five minutes he was entitled to.

His very dignificed delivery of Micah 6:8 and Jesus’s words reading from Isaiah as found in Luke 4:18-20 should not have been objectionable to any reasonable person. As Harper banged his gavel, the decorum of Bobby Rush, who lost his own son to gun violence, was above reproach. He wore a dignified suit and tie onto the House floor. When he took off his jacket and revealed the hoodie underneath, which he then pulled over his head, he demonstrated clearly that he was still the same man despite hoodie. He also demonstrated his sympathy for people who are arrested or shot too often because someone rushes to judgment because of their color or clothing.

I do not want any child of any color being followed and shot because of their clothing. Our nation could profit from hearing the scripture Rep. Bobby Rush was trying to quote when Harper kicked him out of the House. I want our children to be safe on our streets.