Lou Mercer Words of Wisdom

Another year down the tubes!

2023-12-27T07:38:00.000-07:00

Counting today, there are only 5 days left in this year.

Momma nailed it when she said "When you are over the hill you pick up speed." I look back over the years and try to find that skinny little girl that ran up and down Strong Street barefooted. If only my life could be lived in reverse! I see all my missed opportunities and think, "Woulda', coulda' shoulda' ", but I didn't. Now it is too late!

When I came to Colorado all those years ago, I did so on a temporary whim. I would come and live, but if Charlie and I parted ways, I would move back. We parted ways and I stayed, but only temporarily. But then one year turned to 2, and then 3. I stayed and married Kenny, but with the goal in mind that when he passed I would return to Hutchinson. When he passed, I didn't leave. Things and commitments kept me here. I own my home. I have 2 kids here, 1 in Lakin, two in Longton, one in Texas. My last husband is buried in Memorial Gardens and my name is on the other half of his tombstone.

I live all alone in a 2400 square foot house. My friend list gets shorter every year. We adopted Bret. I also acquired 37 ducks and 7 geese,. I built a pond. Kenneth passed away. I said when the ducks and geese were gone, I would move to town. The foxes ate the ducks. I said when the geese were gone, I would move to town. We are at a standstill now! I have 7 geese that are ageless! I keep buying feed and they keep eating it. Every night I close them in their house and every morning I let them out. Once a month I go to Big R and buy 3 bags of grain.

My grass is dead because I forget to water it. The 98 rose bushes I had at one time are all turned wild and been dug up and tossed on the heap. Bret married and moved away and started his second family. I just keep getting older. I think about going back "home". Where is home? Hutchinson? Nickerson? Garden City? Lakin?

Every year I think back to what I should have done and didn't. It is probably a little bit late for me to put the toothpaste back in the tube. So, I get up every morning and go to bed every night. Habit, I guess. I know any one of my kids would like me to come and live with them, but I just can not see that happening! I keep hoping I will get lucky and just not wake up some morning, but so far that is a pipe dream!

So, I close this and go let the decrepit old geese out, throw a rock at the neighbors cats that have wandered into my yard and look west at the beautiful mountains and remember why I never packed up and moved back to the flatlands of Kansas!

Peace!

As another year ends....

2023-12-24T18:53:00.000-07:00

Another year is drawing to a close. As I reflect back on this past year, I realize how much I have changed. You may not think so, since my appearance is much the same. Oh, a few more gray hairs and my complexion just a tad more leathery. My weight remains the same and the hair is still white. The changes are inside. The changes are subtle. I suppose it happens to all of us as we move forward from the cradle to the grave.

I moved into this house in 1982 with Kenny Mercer and my two kids, Sam and Susie. They were both still in school. Sam would go on to graduate college. The kids are both gone. Kenny has since passed and I remain here on my "Gods little acre." with 7 geese and a calico cat for company. The grandson that Kenneth and I adopted together is grown, married and has three children of his own.

Today was Sunday, December 24. Yesterday was December 23. On December 23, 1983 Kenny Mercer and I exchanged our wedding vows in front of retired minister in Canon City, Colorado. It was 15 degrees below zero. We topped the ceremony off by enjoying a doughnut at the local donut shop. Susie was in middle school and Sam almost ready for college.

Sadly, I lost Kenny in 2002. I have spent over half my life in this house. I look around at where I am in my life journey and wonder how this happened. It seems like only yesterday that I was surrounded by a vibrant loving family and the token dog and cat. How many sunburns did I suffer while on a weekend fishing trip? The children are gone, replaced by grand children and even great grand children.

I set here in my 2400 square foot house with a detached garage and an acre of land and wonder just where this will all end. I can't sell the house and move into town, because I have 7 geese left from the good old days when I had 17 geese and 47 ducks and a pond. They have only known this little acre of mine as their home.

And if I should move, where do I move to? Do I go back to Hutchinson, where I have only one sister left? I have no friends that I have kept in touch with. Do I go to Garden City, where I spent many years with my husband who is the father of my kids? He is since deceased. Do I go to Lakin where I have one daughter? Or Longton where I have two daughters. I have one daughter here and one son. And one son in Dallas.

Life would be so much simpler if the good Lord had not given us free will. We should be born with some kind of handbook on how to do this. But we weren't so I am stuck. Guess I will just keep putting one foot in front of the other until one day I just cease to be. Then it will be someone else's problem, won't it?

Peace!

The hidden lessons from Momma

2023-11-13T09:27:00.000-07:00

I was just watching something on the early morning show about sharing. Sharing is good and makes you feel good, but I already knew that. I remember when I was but a wee tot and momma would occasionally bring home something she received from one of the ladies at the end of her day. Maybe a few cookies, or a small amount of candy. It was meant for momma as a little treat, but she always brought it home to share with her kids. Usually it was a few store bought cookies, but it was always a treat for us! Momma would hand me a cookie and say "Share this with Mary or Dorothy, or Donna. And she always stood there as the cookie was broken in half. I measured carefully and then handed the chosen sister the biggest half.

It was an engraved in stone rule that the one breaking the cookie took the smallest half. This taught us many things.
#1 Always try to break it carefully.

#2 By giving the biggest half to the sister we were showing generosity.

#3 We were not greedy.

#4 We learned sharing and humility.

One day I had to go to cousin Paralee's house after school. Momma was cleaning Paralee's house that day. Paralee knew it was my birthday so she had planned a small party for me. Suffice it to say that in my younger years it was the only time my birthday was observed. I received only one gift, but I treasured it for years. It was a red cookie cutter in the form of Cinderella. Needless to say I never used it, but treasured it nonetheless.

Momma has been gone for many years, but she is always right there on my shoulder. I hear her many times a day and try as I might, I can never forget the lessons I learned at her knee. If I taught my kids anything, I would hope it is this: "That small voice in your head that is telling you to share, to be kind, to be helpful and understanding to others, to respect your elders, never lie and always talk to God, is probably my mother talking to you!"

Maybe someday one of my kids will be writing this blog and remembering me as a wise, caring, honest person. I can only hope!

Peace!

Minerva is right at home!

2023-11-11T07:23:00.000-07:00

So I have a puppy! She is about 6 months old. So far she has eaten the carpet on the stairs, 16 branches of the cotton wood tree, a hole in the wall, and many other things that I will no doubt discover at a later date. She is a heeler and puts the geese to bed each night and wakes them up every morning. She has found my sewing room and the cat's litter box which is 3 floors below me. I have barricades in place to keep her from that level, but it gets tiring to move a wooden barricade every time I need a pin, or something out of the freezer.

She is a very loving little dog, but she is a registered blue heeler and those of you on a farm know what that is! I would love to take her to my daughter, Dona, who actually has a farm, but she has 3 dogs already and has her hands full with those. Sadly they are just petting dogs and not working dogs, but it is what it is.

Right now I am at the computer with a cat on my left who will wake up and walk across the desk and step over the keyboard to set on my lap. This will cause the dog to put his freezing cold nose under my right elbow and root it out of the way so he can get closer. And that has now happened! I left the computer briefly, but they await my return!

Now, she has moved her Puppy bed to the stairs and after falling out of it and rolling down the stairs 3 times, she has given up on that endeavor. I was going to take a picture and post it for you, but this computer is way smarter than me and has hidden everything in a cloud some where and since John Tenorio passed away, I have no one to guide me through this process.

So now here I set, wondering just what I had on my little mind when I started this blog entry. I am sure it was important, but I think all I actually succeeded in doing is to make another copy of the 63,224 photos I now have in triplicate, and gave myself a headache. I do now know that today is Saturday, which came as a big surprise, since I thought I was on Friday!

So, off I go to let the geese out, after which I will shower and then wonder why I bothered since I have no where to go and nothing to do. That is how it goes in my world. How about yours?

Peace!

And that is not right either!!

2023-10-25T20:12:00.000-06:00

I finally got signed in so I can write my blog, but sadly this will not last long! I am locked out of every bank account, facebook, etsy, paypal, my mail, and anything else I ever hoped to do! My internet went south on me for a few days and when I got it back up and running everything else was new to me!

I had something I wanted to tell you, but I forgot what it was. I do have a new dog. Her name is Minerva. . She is a black and white Heeler and she actually likes me. Sadly she tries to hug my legs when I am walking, which makes me a little nervous since I have brittle bones and stuff! Not sure I can pay for a broken hip on my budget.

So hopefully, the Internet will stay up for a while and I can get in a few of my accounts and life will be good again. Sure missed writing the last month or so.

Right now I am very sleepy so I am going to bed. Hope to be in touch again tomorrow with lots of catching up to do!

Peace!

It is morning!

2023-09-04T07:53:00.004-06:00

Click here for the music!

I seem to function best back in the 1940's. It was the tail end of the depression and we had nothing, but that is where I was happy. Maybe not so happy, but secure. I was safe. I think that was what draws me back to that era. We were together in a 2 bedroom house with a wood stove in the dining room, front room, and in the kitchen for cooking. We carried water from a pump out back until we finally got a sink and pump in the kitchen.

A coal oil hurricane lamp in the middle of the dining room table gave us light to do our home work. My fondest memory is setting at that table with a red Chief tablet and a fat pencil printing my ABC's. I wrote about that years ago and a wonderful lady, Linda Kelp, who is Michael McQuire's cousin sent me 4 Big Chief tablets from her home up north. I still have them! I do not use them. I wrote on one page of one tablet where they came from and that is all.

It is sad some of the things I do and the things I hoard! My cupboards are full of cottage cheese containers because I can not bear to throw them away! We did not have them back then. I do not know when we became a nation of disposable everything. I remember when the city dump was a designated area outside of town and that is where people took their tin cans. Everything else was reused. Today we call it recycle, but mostly it just goes in the trash and is hauled to the dump. I understand it is then pressed into a big block and either buried or dumped into the ocean. I do not see either one of those solutions as being permanent! Burning it pollutes the air we breathe, so you tell me!

Well, once more I have gotten off track! I started this wanting to tell you how safe and secure I was as a child even though we had very little in material possessions, and end up wanting to clean up the world and save it for our children. This old age is not conducive to stringing and article together to a cohesive conclusion!

So, I guess I will make a pot of coffee and start my day with the local news followed by the national news, neither of which I can do anything about! I am better off just listening to Merle Haggard sing me back home (click that).

Peace and love!

Security?? For me or From me?

2023-09-01T14:12:00.002-06:00

Just spent several hours locked out of most of my accounts because I wanted to share a bit of good news on my blog! I must confess that after changing passwords on several accounts so I could get to his site, I have forgotten what the good news was! Not only have I forgotten the good news, but I have forgotten all the passwords and I rather doubt that when I get through posting this, that I will give a big rat's patootie!

Life was so simple when I first ventured into the blogging arena! But now, I find my desk covered with notes I have written myself, giving myself little hints on how to get into my account. I must admit, my life was sure a lot simpler back when I was stupid and no one wanted to steal my identity. Right now I do not even want my identity!

When I first ventured into this world of secret words and stuff I signed in to everything with "password". Worked for me and no one stole my identity. I could not imagine why anyone would want to be me! Hell! I did not even want to be me. As life in the world of secret passwords began to take on it's own life, my passwords became more and my attention span became shorter. It was not long before I hated the computer and all it's demands for longer and more complicated passwords. Gone were the days when one password would open any program.

Last night I got on to pay a bill. It should have been a 3 minute job. Needless to say, it did not end up that way. They insisted I change my password (in case it had been compromised). That having been done I then had to tranfer money from my bank account to the bill I was paying. Then I had to change the password on the bank account.

Now, I am going to post this. In the good old days I would just add a few labels , state my location and then hit the publish button. Hopefully this will publish and I can hit another key and it will appear on facebook.

The sad part is that I do not even remember at this time what I wanted to say to all of you. I know it was important, but that is all I remember.

So, until we meet again, Happy Trails and all that. May the wind be at your back and the road rise to meet you. The password for today is totalconfusion!!!!

Peace!

I am the old generation.

2023-08-21T06:55:00.000-06:00

Today I awoke with a cat on my bed and a dog beside the bed. The dog is not mine, but the cat is. As I lay there thinking what the day held in store, and it suddenly dawned on me, that I had no reason whatsoever to leave my little bed. Oh, sure the dog and cat need fed and let out for a bathroom break, but other than that I could just lay there all day and no one would know, or care.

Once upon a time I had a mother, father, 4 brothers, 4 sisters, aunts, uncles and lots of cousins. I had friends galore. I had places to go and people to see, but sadly that has all changed. My family is all gone except for one sister that I never talk to or see. The one friend that I had for many years moved down south some where. She had a daughter who was very disrespectful to me and my "brood", so we stopped communication. The friends that I made here in Colorado have mostly died , or pissed me off for one reason or another. I have no room in my life for deceit, disrespect, and judgementalists. So I guess, as Mother would say, "I have made my own bed and now I can just sleep in it". We all know how wise my Mother was!

I live in a 2400 square foot house, all by myself. I have a cat. The cat loves me. I have 7 geese who do not! They depend on me for food, water and a shed to keep them safe from the foxes and such. Bret was 8 when I got the geese as babies. He is 32 now. Geese, under ideal conditions will live about 16 years. This makes mine 24 years old. Every morning when I go to let them out, I expect to find one with his feet in the air, but it has not happened yet. Someone suggested that I give them to the zoo so they could use them as food for the lions. That is not happening.

I have always said that when the geese die off, of natural causes, I will sell this place and move somewhere else. My destination is not set in stone, just so it is some where else. I entertained the idea of buying a small van and just going from place to place, but even that seems like a lot of work. I could just call someone to handle an estate sale for me and walk out the door with one suitcase. That actually is the most appealing scenario at this point. I could visit each of my kids for a month at a time. They would be glad to see me twice that way (once when I came and once when I left!)

But for today, I will let the geese out of their pen so they can play in the pond I built for them in the garden area. I am toying with the idea of planting fruit trees in the garden area. If I cut down the cottonwood tree, I can fit 2 peach , 2 apricot, and 2 cherry trees in that area. Or I can just drink another cup of coffee and wait for Jeopardy! to come on this afternoon. I love that show. I turn it on at 3:00 and then I wake up about 4:00.

Peace!

I am a hero!!!

2023-08-05T11:13:00.002-06:00

Yesterday I became a hero! The day started out as just another day, only I had a grandson with me. He had spent the night so we had the whole day ahead of us. We usually take a fairly long walk and that was how we started this day. We walked up South Road toward 25th lane. The ditch angles off across the country in a sort of south easterly direction. Before we got to the ditch we passed the goat house. It is really not a goat house, but a man lives there who has raised goats since I have lived out here lo onto 40+ years.

We noticed a small goat with his head through the fence munching on a weed. We stopped to watch, but he just kept straining at the fence. My grandson noticed that his head seemed to be stuck in the fence. Crap! What to do? The gate to the yard where the owner had his house was locked. I called out a couple times, but there was not any sign of life forthcoming. All the rest of the herd was gathered to watch the small goat struggle.

I am not a animal person by nature. Dogs and cats and an occasional bird does it for me, but it soon became apparent that I was the adult in this situation and if the little goat was going to be freed from the fence, it was going to be me doing the freeing. I had a short conversation with God, wherein I asked if he could take care of this, but he did not answer. Great! I knelt on the ground and touched his horn. Yep. He was in there very solid. He was not going any where anytime soon.

Now when I find myself in a situation like this I always assume the one who got into the pickle was a male. I being the alpha female needed to solve this some how. With the grandson breathing down my neck I grasped the little guy with one hand on his nose, (in case a goat bites) and the other on the horn. He was very calm as I raised his nose so I could manuver the tip of his horn through the fence. That being accomplished the nose and other horn quickly slipped through the fence. He looked at me with what I hoped was a look of gratitude, turned to his herd, kicked up his back feet and ran for the barn, followed by the rest of the herd.

It was at that point that my grandson declared I was a hero! I had saved the goat! I must say, I did have a very warm feeling at that moment. It is kinda nice to have a kid think I am a hero, even if it was sheer luck that it worked out so well! The owner of the goat will never know what transpired while he slept, but my grandson and I know. I just talked to my son and my grandson never mentioned it to him, but that is alright.

For just a little while I was a hero and my grandson looked at me as something more than a cookie machine. The little goat has probably forgotten his predicament. He will no doubt grow up to be dinner on someone's plate.

It is called the circle of life!

Peace!

Do geese eat grasshoppers?

2023-07-31T07:30:00.001-06:00

There are grasshoppers in my yard bigger than my cat! They try to jump on my leg for a free ride around the yard, but I do not let that happen. I do not like their sticky legs. I do not like their little tight lips, nor their bugged out eyes. They are tricky little varmints. They can land on a light bulb and not fall off before propelling themselves off in any direction, except to the direction I thought they were going to jump.

They are not afraid of humans. Insect spray does not harm them. They eat everything in sight except weeds. They do not eat weeds. They travel in packs! They go from a tiny thing the size of a gnat into a 3 inch long giant grasshopper in seven minutes!

If it were not for the fact that they are the most destructive things on planet Earth, they would be fascinating creatures. They can fly. They can take off from a dead standstill and become airborne in a blur. They can jump further than a kangaroo. I think they fly. They are both aerodynamic and waterproof. I think they chew tobacco, although I do not know where they get it!

I do not know where they sleep, or if they sleep. I know I go out early in the morning and there is no sign of them, and suddenly the air is full of them. Insecticide does not phase them. I did buy something once that the man told me makes them sterile. Birth control for grasshoppers?? That did not work either. I think it actually increased the horde!

I have seen my mother goose try to catch and eat one, but she failed in that endeavor, so I am guessing the geese prefer grain.

So, I am praying for frost. It will not kill them, but it slows them down. Back in the days of the pioneers, they talked of "herds of locusts, that blocked out the sun!" They don't fool me. It was those damn grasshoppers!

They can put a man on the moon, but they cannot find a spray to eliminate the grasshoppers. So what can we do to get rid of them?

My answer to this is , "who knows?" Just pull up my big girl pants and move on! Winter will come someday!

Sunshine and grasshoppers!

2023-07-24T07:22:00.002-06:00

We are in the middle of a heat wave....again. This probably does not come as any big surprise to most of you. While the heat is almost unbearable, I have another problem out here in the country. That problem is grasshoppers. They are every where! Or at least they seem to be everywhere. I could rephrase that and say, "they are everywhere I try to walk!"

Grasshoppers are fascinating little creatures, to say the very least. They have barbs or something on there feet or legs that is very disturbing to my skin when they land on me. Now, granted, they do not make contact with me very often, but once was enough. The fact that they are ugly as sin does not help at all! So when one does land on me there is a lot of jumping and screaming going on from my body.

Now I have a lot of weeds out here on my little acre. I try to keep them at a manageable height with my mower called a weed whacker. It has 2 high wheels in the back and a nose out the front with a string trimmer. This thing is very powerful and can sling a rock the size of a lemon through the garage window in a split second, but it does not harm grasshoppers! Nothing harms grasshoppers!

Now, I speak as an expert on grasshoppers because I have tried everything! I even got a bag of something that is supposed to make them sterile. Now, it will not kill them and it takes a season to get them all sterilized, or so the instructions on the bag said. So the spray that was supposed to kill them only made them bigger and meaner! The sterilant appears to be more of an aphrodisiac then any means of birth control!

One would think that with a ratio of 40 grasshoppers per every square foot of weeds I have that at the very least I would get rid of the weeds, but that is not happening either. I have no idea what these beasts actually eat. They do not trim the grass. They do not eat the weeds. The trees still have their leaves and the geese eat the garbage.

I have thought about moving in to town, but I can not find an apartment or house that will allow me to have 7 adult geese. And on that subject, how long does a goose live? My friend looked it up on google. Now google knows everything!! It told us, a goose lives 16-17 years under ideal conditions. Ok. I got these geese for Bret when he was 6 or 7 years old and he is 31 now. You do the math! Hell, even Google is jerking my chain!

So, as I try to type with the cat laying across the keyboard and the grasshoppers laying in wait right outside the door, I am trying to count my blessings. Actually, they are many! I have a computer that works, a refrigerator full of food, and friends who love me!

Peace!

Talk about a flashback!!

2023-06-30T07:05:00.001-06:00

The fourth of July is fast approaching and holiday traffic is expected to set a new record, again. Some little chickadee was telling me this during a segment on the morning news, so I know it is true. Her segment was on traffic and how it will set new records. New records also means more accidents due to distracted driving. She gave me a few pointers on how to make sure I am safe when riding as a passenger. I am still in wonder at her nativity!

When I am riding as a passenger and I notice the driver fumbling with his/her phone I should simply take it from his/her hand and say, "Here, let me make that call for you." Anything that is distracting the driver should be taken care of by me. Alrighty then! Now I know.

My mind flashed back to my younger years as a young bride and later as a young mother, married to a man whose sole purpose in live was to remain in a degree of "plastered' in one degree or another. Had I shown the audacity to question either his sobriety or ability to operate a vehicle in any shape was sure to meet with resistance of one form or another. He was the man of the house and it was his responsibility to get the vehicle and the passengers in that vehicle from point A to point B. Far beit my right to question his ability.

Getting there was only half the battle as the reason for trips on the 4th of July was to blow up a weeks salary in a 15 minute frenzy. That and drinking several cases of beer and then playing poker with his brothers and brother in law. That was guaranteed to end in a fist fight. It was my job to take care of the kids. Since I did not drink, the 4th of July, like many other holidays was always something I looked forward to with a sense of dread, but so be it.

Looking back, in retrospect, those were the good old days. At least the kids remembered them as such and later in life, after the divorce, the kids always went to Daddy's for the holiday. He built a club house on 20 acres of land in Western Kansas and every holiday was cause for a party! The kids grew up knowing Daddy always had a party going on and that was good.

So there you have it. I hate the fireworks on the 4th, but it is what it is. I am rather a prude about most things like that, but that is just me. You all have a happy and safe 4th of July and keep the powder dry!

Peace!

As twilight falls....

2023-06-26T07:53:00.000-06:00

When I awake in the morning, I usually reflect on times gone by. Often they are waaaaaaaaaaaaay bygone, but sometimes more recent. This morning I was counting my blessing, one of which is that I still seem to have a healthy body and a good portion of my mind at my disposal! But then I drifted to a place where a friend of mine named Nancy was stored.

Nancy was a lady, to say the very least. She was very smart having a background in teaching both in primary school , but later in college. She was married with 4 children, grown and gone. The children were also very smart and successful in their chosen fields. She was always very well groomed and never seemed to be flustered by anything life handed her. She was a widow by the time I met her.

She and I were both retired and widowed. She lived with two sons who were old enough to have families, but had never married nor reproduced. My family was grown and gone on to build lives outside of the Pueblo area. So as two settled in our lives adults, we became friends.

As such we went to lunch usually once a week. Sometimes she prepared food and sometimes I did. But mostly I would pick her up and we would go "out for lunch". We took turns picking up the check or we went dutch. Just depended on our mood. We would then go for a walk somewhere interesting, like the Nature Center, or one of the nearby parks. Just two adult women killing a little time and catching up on the weeks events. But that all changed.

Sometimes there would be a lapse in the conversation that lasted longer than it should. I would ask a question and she would smile at me. Usually she was waiting on the porch when I arrived since I called her from a block away, but sometimes I would have to go to the door. It became my responsibility to do all the driving at one point.

Then I began to notice, her hair which was a beautiful silver, was not always combed. Our conversations became more me talking and her listening. Then our weekly lunches became further apart. She never called me, I always called her. So we began to drift apart. Then her daughter called to tell me that she had gone into a senior retirement home, temporarily. Of course I went to see her.

She was the perfect lady, as usual. She began to talk about how she remembered the kindness my son had shown her when he removed a tree from her yard. My son lives in Dallas, so I was sure that was a hallucination. The next visit she asked if I would like her to make us lunch. She explained that she had lots of food in her refrigerator and opened the door to reveal one orange and a bottle of water. I knew the facility had a dining hall so she was fed, but she sure was not equipped to prepare a meal from that meager refrigerator. My heart broke that day.

I never went back. She had no idea who I was, so I did not want to further confuse her. It just broke my heart that such a beautiful and brilliant woman could have this happen to her and she did not even know it was going on. She passed a few weeks later. I guess that is how this disease works. You forget your friends, your family and then your body. It is so sad, but then it is over.

I miss her. I will always miss her, but I miss a lot of people at my age. It looks like I am destined to live for a long time because I have the genes for it. I do not think I have the dementia gene because only one member of my family ever had it, to my knowledge. My hope is that I will get older, have a clear mind and then just drop dead watching the geese chasing grasshoppers in the back yard.

Momma always used to say "God will never give you more than you can handle." Momma is right.

Momma was always right!

Peace!

What the hell?

2023-05-17T07:19:00.003-06:00

I had a dream two nights ago that was so horrible I am just now able to write about it and analyze what it means in my simple life; Here goes;;;;

I dreamed I was setting in a lawn chair beside a green meadow. Beyond the meadow was a forest. To my other side was a parking lot with no cars and beyond that a super highway with parked cars.

As I gazed into the clear blue sky, I saw a round object pass from right to left. It was about 75 feet in the air. It was silver with blue trim. It had a door and one window. A banner over the door read DONALD TRUMP. It disappeared, but very soon reappeared again on my right and once more slowly passed out of my line of vision on my left. This happened several times. I do not know how it managed to disappear and then reappear unless it was orbiting the earth very fast.

After several times of passing from right to left, it stopped and hovered in front of me. The banner disappeared revealing a door. The door opened and what appeared to be Donald Trump stepped out onto the landing in front of the door. He was dressed in a peach colored tuxedo made of satin. His name was on a cream colored banner across his chest. His shoes were white and he wore white gloves. He waved at me and asked if I had a ladder.

I woke up. Now, it is the job of anyone reading this to explain to me what in the hell that dream was all about and where it came from. In my day to day life, politicians rarely even enter my mind. I like to bake cookies and watch soap operas. That is the extent of my existence;

So there you have it. Any thoughts?

Growing up on the Stroh place.

2023-04-17T07:13:00.003-06:00

According to records in my geneagloy collection and stories handed down, my dad had gone to work as a hired hand for Josie Haas, a widow woman. My mother had eloped and gone to Chicago with a man named Jack Walden, who was rumored to be a criminal who worked for the "mob". She was 19 years old at the time. She escaped in the dark of night and came home to grandma. Or so the story goes.

At that time Reuben Bartholomew was the handyman for Josie Haas. Christine Haas was her daughter. Christine and Reuben soon fell in love and married. What followed is history.

Of course, I was not born yet when that happened, so I can only surmise! My first memories are of life on the Stroh place outside of Nickerson before I started school. By coordinating my memories to what I recall I can figure out, I must have been about 6 years old when we left there and moved across town to the Ailmore place.

The big book that shows my genealogy is screwed up and shows my sister Mary married Tom Shea when she was 2 days old. So I am going to forgo dates and jump right into my memories. According to the birth dates that I am sure are correct, I was six years old when Dorothy was born. I remember momma bringing her home and she was crying all the time. Harvest was about a week away and when it came time to drive the truck that hauled the wheat to the silo in town, Dorothy went with momma. She was nursing and there was not much she could do, but take her.

So the dynamics of the home at that point in time were these:

Josephine, my half sister from mom's first marriage was 12 years old.

Jake was 10.

I was 6.

Donna was 4.

Mary was 2.

And Dorothy was new.

I did not like her because Momma always babied her. Of course, she was a baby, but that was not taken into consideration. My dad worked as a farm hand for a man who owned bottom land named John Britain. We did not know him very well., but sometimes Dad would take Jake and I to work with him. There was a slough that ran through the farm and sometimes it would have water flowing through it. The water fed through to the Arkansas River which was next to the land. If Jake had been lucky in his foraging he would have enough scraps of wood to build me a boat of sorts to float in the slough. If not we just poked around to find crawdads.

I recall one time when Donna who must have been about 3 years old at the time poked her finger at a turtle, which latched right on and would not let go. It was rumored that it would let go when the sun went down. Donna screamed he head off until John Britain took his pocket knife and severed its head from its neck. It let go then and I do not think Donna ever did that again.

As I recall, momma had geese and one time John Britain and dad snuck a goose egg into the chicken house and when John's wife found it, she was very excited! "Oh look at the size of this egg my chicken laid!" Not sure if anyone ever told her!

I started school on the Stroh place and one time it snowed very deep and Jake Stroh brought his horse to the school so he could bring us kids home to momma. People used to help people like that. It was called "helping your neighbor". It must have been one of the memories that makes me help people today. It was just "doing the right thing." Helping your neighbor.

We need more of that today. We need more kids playing with crawdads in a slough. We need more walks in the woods and more helping each other and less television time. I guess even televisions are going by the wayside and being replaced with computers, cell phones and the internet.

I may have outlived my usefulness!

Peace!

Ah! 'twas but a mere dalliance!

2023-04-03T19:36:00.000-06:00

As most of you know, I have been married several times and sent several lawyers on vacation. That having been said, I would like to clarify my current status. I am now a widow and that is the way I plan on staying. Kenny and I were married 20 years and he has been gone 20 years. I plan on remaining in my current state for the remainder of my life.

When Kenny had been gone 5 years I began to date. Now, you should know that I like tall men. Kenny was 5' 6" or so, but he had a lot of redeeming qualities. He was honest, compassionate, a very hard worker and most importantly of all, he had a sense of humor. Albeit a warped sense of humor, it pretty much matched mine. That and the fact that I had finally found a man of whom my mother approved made it a match made in heaven. We began our marriage living in sin but remedied that 11 months later. He passed away 20 years later. I did not date for 6 years, but then I met a man at Starucks who struck my fancy. His name was not important. He was from back east.

He was 6' 2". I am 5' 1". He was a Republican; I was a Democrat. He took me out to eat. We went for walks. His dog loved me. He was a retired plumber from Denver, originally from St. Louis. We had nothing in common, but we liked each other's company. I love country western music. He liked Opera. I liked to pull weeds. I volunteered at Hospice and he collected BMW's. We had nothing in common and one day it became too much and it ended in a screaming match. I did not see nor hear from him for 2 years.

I do not know if you know how the dyslectic mind works, but he was a classic dyslectic. He looked for me in the sewing machine stores. And the library and down on the levy where I used to walk. But he never thought to look in the phone book. Now if God has a plan, it always works out and one day my phone rang, and it was him! A friend in Denver told him to look in the phone book, and there I was!

He began talking like our last visit was yesterday. He now had prostate cancer and he was on Hospice Care. I had just started volunteering at Sangre de Cristo in the Eleventh Hour program so he became my client. A match made in heaven, so to speak. I was with him every day. We took walks. We shared meals. I did his laundry and cleaned his house. I took him to doctor appointments. When he was not feeling well, I walked the dog. We became close friends. His younger brother came to see him. Then his other brother. His sister in law. Friends from Denver. Another friend from California. He grew thinner and weaker.

When he began to grow thin and weak and we knew the end was near, he made the decision to enter a nursing home. He did not want to be a burden to me. His executor came from Denver and signed the papers to make it happen. His will was made and all the paperwork done. I would be in charge of the house and the dog until his death and then things would be settled. I was to get $5000. But then he had a change of heart! He decided he would marry me so I could inherit his estate! How sad he was that I said no. But I did tell him that since he had managed to stay single for 78 years, God would be happy to see him without a wife! I further explained that if his motivation was to make me his heir, the lawyer could easily change his will. So he went that route.

He was clear about what he wanted me to do with his estate. I got $5000 to spend as I wanted. Everything would be sold and the balance would be deposited in a special account and spent on charities of my choosing. So for a few days I owned a 4 story Victorian house with a round "witches hat". I gave the dog to a friend of his in Colorado Springs, and gave the house key to the executor.

I spent several months giving checks to various charities and different places in need of money. The last $6,000.00 was spent on a new motor for one of the volunteers at SCAP who did a really lot of volunteering and organizing and needed a vehicle that he could depend on for travel. And then it was all gone!

I look back on that period of my life with a woulda, coulda, shoulda feeling. I miss him in ways I can not explain. When I met him he was a fire breathing man who had no use for anyone who was not white and Republican. He hated minorities, gays, women, Democrats and most of all country western music. (Damned "Hillbillies!") He was a Catholic and I a Baptist. Watching him in the last months of his life was a joy I can not explain. He came to accept my gay friends and my blended family. Sister Nancy Crafton came to talk to him and I went to walk the dog. When I returned she was gone and he had a countenance about him that was an acceptance of things to come and included a reconnection with the Catholic church that had been so long forgotten.

In the name of love?

2023-03-25T08:21:00.000-06:00

How many of you have watched a friend struggling and wanted to help? Usually there is nothing you can say as you silently watch their world spinning out of control. Oh, there is much to say, but no one to listen. Without going into all the details, I will just say that you all know my little grandson that I picked up every Thursday in Florence and kept over night. I would then take him to his daddy, my son, on Friday at 3:30 at his jobsite. He would then return him to his mother Sunday afternoon. Everyone was happy, or so it seemed.

What changed? My son recommitted to some one else, as did his ex. My son now has another baby. His first baby momma has now decided that since my son now has another son, he does not need any contact with her son. Apparently, in her world, you can only love one person at a time. To me this is bizarre, to say the very least. To say her bubble does not balance, would be an understatement. Sadly, the man she now lives with who is also her "caregiver" stood next to a lawyer once or twice so he is now her "representative" in all legal matters. All of this is irrelevant.

What is relevant here is that my grandson has grown up in an environment filled with negativity and has had his daddy forbidden to see him until we go to court and get visitation rights which his mother does not want to give him. She explained it to me this way; "He has a effin son. I have a son. Now we are even. He can just leave my son alone."

Warped? To the max. So here I set. For 7 years my grandson and I have bonded. The first words out of his mouth when he sees me is "I love you." Those are the last words he says when he leaves me. He loves his daddy. He has a room here and he has a room at his daddy's. I took him and his step sister to the Dairy Queen the last time he was at his daddy's house. He watches over his step sister since she is smaller than him. He is a big brother to her and the new baby. His birth mother can not accept this. How sad is that?

So, until social services or whoever the powers that be are reach a decision in this "matter", we live in limbo. I can only pray that my little grandson is not being mistreated. I know he is being brainwashed because I have seen that in action. What his birth mother does not know, nor understand is that love goes on. Someday, he will be big enough and old enough to make his own decisions and what will happen then, Amanda?

Momma always said "The chickens always come home to roost." In the end, when that last trumpet blows and time will be no more, there is one thing you should remember and it is this...."As you have done it to one of these little ones, you have done it to me."

Sleep on that.

Let's start this off with a song!

2023-03-19T07:05:00.002-06:00

click here Now that right there is the truth if ever I printed it! Back in the days of sand and shovels life was so much easier! We walked to school in a cluster. Our family lived on Strong Street and there were 3 houses with kids. On the end were the Ayers kids. Willis, Ralph, and Marurite. Then the Reinke kids. Delores and Irene. Flo was older so she ignored us. Then came the little Bartholomew kids! Josephine, Jake, and me. Donna, Mary and Dorothy would come later. I attended all 8 years in that 2 story red brick building on the corner by the First Christian Church. I attended that church the same 8 years.

We all walked to school. Not so much in a group as one would think, but rather as a bunch of stragglers off to learn to be responsible adults some day. My brother Jake was pretty much a goof off but most of the boys in that era were. He finally joined the Army, because that is what boys did back then.

Now back then, if a kid misbehaved they were sent to the office where Mr. Houston would administer the proper punishment. That usually meant a spanking. Lordy! times have changed, haven't they? If your kid got a spanking at school, they would also get a better spanking at home. No mother or father wanted to have a kid that would misbehave in public. It just was not done! Period. End of story. The classroom teacher was not allowed to spank. She (and most of them were women) would walk up behind an inattentive, wiggly kid and whack them on top of the head with the edge of a wooden ruler. Trust me on this; I seen stars for days! Mrs. Howe was the only one who ever struck me. That woman was mean! I prayed every morning that she would not look at me, but God ignored my plea!

I still remember my teachers through grade school. First grade was Miss Donough who married in the middle of the year and became Mrs. Breece. She was so kind. Then grade two was Mrs. Wait. Grade 3 was Miss Holmes who was very sweet. Fourth grade was Mrs. Howe who was, to my recollection, the meanest woman in the world. Fifth grade was Miss Swenson who was kind and the first person to ever praise me for my feeble attempt at writing poetry. She actually got me published in a magazine that was popular at the time. Sixth grade brought Miss Lauver. She was strict, but very fair and probably one of the best teachers in the school. Old maid. Seventh grade was Mr. Schriber and eighth was Mr. Bollinger. I did not like men teachers. They were full of themselves. But in all fairness, Mr. Bollinger owned the movie theater so he was cool.

At the time I was in school there were less than 1,000 people in Nickerson. The red brick building has been demolished and a one story grade school built a block away. A bunch of houses occupy the lot where so many memories were made. The church I attended which set on the corner across the street from the school is boarded up now. There is one grocery store and it is in the building the appliance store used to occupy. I left Nickerson, Kansas 65 years ago, but in my mind, I am still there.

We never wore shoes to school in the fall. When the weather started getting cold the shoes were dug out and whoever they fit had shoes. The Montgomery Ward Catalog was dug out and feet were measured and new shoes bought for whoever did not get a pair of hand me down shoes. Life was hard back then, but poverty did not discriminate. New shoes were a luxury, but they were also harbingers of blisters on our feet because they were stiff and needed "broke in". I did not like new shoes.

I watched the kids getting on the bus in front of my house. They are in little uniforms. Shoes are all the same color. Wonder how that works for developing adults that are unique? Oh well.

Busy day ahead of me so I better get busy. The days of sand and shovels must go back in my mind and wait for another day. I hope I never get so old that I forget where I came from and the road I took to get to this day. School days, school days, dear old golden rule days! Reading and writing and arithmetic. taught to the tune of a hickory stick.........

Peace!

...

Grandma Haas and puberty.

2023-03-06T07:35:00.000-07:00

I was living with the grandma's the year I started high school. I was sent there by momma to "help take care of them." Grandma Haas was 62 and her mother, who was my great grandma was in her late 90's. Grandma used a walker to move from place to place, but great grandma Hatfield was as spry as a spring chicken. She was very tall as I recall and very regal. She had a very sharp and well-defined nose. All of her features were well defined and the word that comes to mind when I picture her is "regal". Grandma Haas was always happy. And kind. Very kind. She smiled at me with the sweetest smile that I am sure made the angels in Heaven dance with joy. Both of them had beautiful blue eyes. As blue as the summer sky.

Great Grandma did all the cooking. I do not remember what we ate for any meal except breakfast, but I am sure it was a sandwich and probably an orange. Oranges were plentiful at the grandmas' house. Grandma Haas owned a house on one corner and Great Grandma owned a house across the street. Great Grandma had been married 3 times and was on her way to the alter with number 4 when he died suddenly. At that point she gave up on men and moved in with Grandma Haas to take care of her. Enter me.

I started high school that fall in Plevna, Kansas. The grandma's wanted me to come home for lunch break and since it was only one block, the principal let me. I would step out the door and I could hear the noon stock report blasting from the old radio. This was one of those floor models that was wood and had a dial you turned with a knob. I was never allowed to touch the knob and the only time it was ever turned on was at noon for the stock and market reports. While the grandmas no longer planted wheat, it was still imperative that they knew what the market was. The world turns on the stock market, you know.

This particular day my grandma wanted to talk to me, and great grandmother busied herself in front of the Hoover, which was the cabinet which held the flour, sugar and other baking things.

"Have you started your menstrual cycle yet?"

"Huh?"

"Have you started bleeding down there yet?"

I immediately fell into a dead panic because I knew I was going to be bleeding or at least I was supposed to and I was scared to death and no one I could ask. The subject never came up again and when I got a little older I figured it out for myself. Sure glad they started teaching that in school shortly after that conversation. Well, not so much that, but the whole reproduction thing became more a matter of course then an enigma wrapped in a mystery.

I still have only the fondest memories of the grandmas. They were from a different era and they were blessed with my being sent to "take care of them". Sort of like the blind leading the blind. It was a strange time in my life and the grandma's taught me a lot. It was there I learned to crochet and do other "handwork". We read a chapter from the Bible every night. We never discussed it and it was just understood that if the Bible said it, it was true and I better do what it said. Period. End of discussion. I still hold that philosophy to this day. God said. I better do it.

There is not a day of my life that goes by that I do not think of the grandma's. Great grandma with her ramrod stiff back. She was like a rock. She never wavered. I don't recall her ever laughing. Course, she never cried either. She was the epitome of a lady. And my sweet grandma Haas. She was crippled from a stroke, but she always had a smile. Her blue eyes shone with love for me. She may not have actually taught me the facts of life, but she alerted me to the fact that someday something would happen.

One day I came home from school and Aunt Mabel had come from Coldwater. She was Grandma's sister. Momma came the next day and took me home. Grandma was put in Broadacres which was a hospital where old people went to die. Aunt Mabel took Great grandma Hatfield home to Coldwater with her. Grandma Haas died a couple weeks later. Great grandma Hatfield lived to be 104 years old. She was preceded in death by her parrot, Poly who lived to be 60 or 70 years old.

My grandma's live inside my head. I never knew a grandfather, but I still love my grandma's and can see them in my mind's eye as clearly as they were in that two-story white house in Plevna, Kansas. I have my own idea's about where we go after we die. I am sure I will make a stop in Plevna to see the high school and run home for lunch with the grandma's. And Polly will be there singing "Ater the ball is over, after the dancers have gone....."

Peace!

Queen of the Silver Dollar!

2023-03-04T06:33:00.002-07:00

Many years ago, when I was 18 years old in Hutchinson, Kansas, there were three taverns, better know as beer joints down on south main street. They were known as the 3 Queens. You should know that it was also about the same time the Navy base was being phased out. Now brother Jake and I liked to drink and I liked to dance. In Kansas, at that time any bar worth frequenting had a dance floor. So, let's set the mood here by clicking on the title of the song! queen of the silver dollar

So, this oasis down on South Main Street in Hutchinson, Kansas housed a plethora of bars. Brown Derby, Manhattan Club (which was my favorite), Anchor Inn, another one that slips my mind, and the Crystal Ballroom. The Crystal Ballroom, which had a giant crystal ball mounted high above the dance floor, was only open on Saturday night. It was mostly for old people. There actually was a bar called the Silver Dollar, but it was clear across town on Highway 96 on the way to Nickerson. I was only there once or twice. I did not like the ambiance there.

The Manhattan club was owned by a man known as "Dutch" somebody. I would sometimes work the bar so he could go do errands in the afternoon. A few notes here. At that time it was illegal to sell alcohol to Indians because it "made them crazy". It was hard for me to differentiate between them and Mexicans, who could drink until they fell over. Sure different from now when you are required to serve people of every nationality.

There were whores who worked the bars. I knew only one and her name was Seabiscuit. That was not her name, but it was her "working name." I do recall she drank White Horse Scotch with cream. Pretty sure those two things together would curdle, but not my circus; not my monkeys! I came to know her on a different level. She once had a family and a home like normal people, her husband had left her and taken the kids and South Main Street became her home and prostitution her means of survival.

There was another one who was a little "pudgy" and giggled a lot. I am not sure she charged for her wares, but rather did it for the sheer enjoyment of the work. Her name was Berniece.

My step brother, Gene had frequented the bars and they both remembered him. Since my maiden name was Bartholomew it was easy for anyone to link us together. Gene Bartholomew, Delbert (Jake) Bartholomew, Louella Bartholomew.

Fights broke out fairly regularly at the Manhattan Club, but as soon as the police arrived the fights stopped and they were warned not to do that again. I still carry a scar right below my ankle from a beer bottle someone threw across the floor that broke and went into my heel.

The last time I went to Hutch, I was going to go to South Main Street and check out my old stomping grounds, but I didn't. The next time I am going to make it a point. I am willing to bet that the bars have turned into antique shops. That time of my life was over 60 years ago, and time marches on!

My kids will no doubt, cringe in horror when the read this post. But then again, they may actually be relieved to know that momma was young once and wasn't always a prude. And they may understand how I figured out what they were doing because Momma done been there and done that!!!

The real state of your affairs.

2023-03-01T08:00:00.002-07:00

If any of you out there think you have your likes and dislikes and that you have any control over them being fulfilled as such, let me clue you in to this fact: Karma rules the universe. You are but a mere spot that shows up as a blip on the radar occasionally, if karma so decides. Sometimes it does and it is good. Life is wonderful! Sadly, this is the seldom ever scenario. Usually it sucks. Mostly we just plug along with one foot in front of the other until we get a little break and we are happy for a time. Usually it is the "blow below the belt" and we are left picking up the pieces of our broken dreams.

If we are happy it is usually at the cost of someone else being unhappy. I do not mean that we have to do anything to make this happen, it is just the way life happens. If I go shopping, my wallet is sad, but the store is happy. I smile and say "Hello" to strangers that I meet on the street and am usually met with a smile and greeting back, but not always.

Then when I get home and flip on the news. I listen to news about car jackings, murders, thefts, child abuse and some one waving a flag to save the planet. Inflation in out of control and law and order went out the window a long time ago. If your child goes to school and comes home without some nut shooting it, we thank our God.

What happened to our old fashioned values? You know, the ones about God and country? The one about remove the moat from your own eye before trying to get the one out of your neighbors eye? What happened to holding a door open for someone to pass through? Or picking up what the lady in front of you dropped and handing it to her? How much does it cost to smile at someone? You may be the only person someone meets today and a smile from a stranger might be enough to brighten their day so they can survive the night.

No doubt they sometimes think I am crazy when I go to the local grocery just to pick up an Avacado, but I go through the whole store and smile and make remarks to every person I see. Maybe it makes someone happy and maybe it is my way of socializing in this post Covid world, but it works for me!

So, just some thoughts today.

Remember: You cannot sprinkle showers of happiness on other people without getting a few drops on yourself!

Peace!

abuse and somebody waving a flag to allow abortions. What And then I come home and turn on the news to en

Skip a rope.

2023-02-26T05:42:00.001-07:00

I have pretty much lived my life as an open book. Not many secrets behind my closed doors. Oh, I may occasionally dash from the shower to the bedroom stark naked because I forgot to get clean underwear, but that is about it. And I may have an occasional carnal thought crossed my mind, but for the most part I live a fairly honest and open existence. Sadly, I find that is not the case with a friend or acquaintance. And that gives me pause to think back to my mother's words. Mother was the wisest woman I knew, but she also had a side that was what she called her "dark side." I think I may have one also!

Oh, it is not that bad! Just little things and thoughts that flash through my mind on its way to oblivion. But I am filled with consternation when I learn of someone actually acting on their sick little fantasies. Or maybe it isn't a fantasy, only a need to control someone else. And when that someone is a child, it enrages me.

Childhood is a time of sand and shovels! A time of play and imagination. A time to learn. A time to build up and a time to take down. A time of laughter and a time of reaching for the stars. A time when home is a safe place to grow. Not a time to be beat down and belittled.

I remember my childhood and while we lived in abject poverty, we had a safe home. If we did something wrong, we were punished. Not beaten down, but punished and we knew why we were punished. Never were we struck because mommy or daddy was having a bad day. In all fairness I do not remember ever being spanked. I spent time with my nose in the corner thinking about what I had done, but never put there just because someone bigger than me thought it was a good idea.

Being a grandmother is kind of fun. Little kids really want to please and they want to help. Sometimes, it takes a lot longer to do something when I have help and the cookies may come out rather dry or lopsided, but they are still cookies. We wash our hands, so they are safe to eat!

I let the grandson sleep with me when he stays the night. He used to have his own bed, but then he decided he needed to keep me safe. Not sure what had happened to make him think I was not safe, but if he needs to, he can. Maybe it is not so much me he is worried about!

I guess the purpose of this post is to convey to the adults who read this that children speak a different language then adults. The little body that is in the bed to "keep grandma safe", may be seeking it's own safety. Listen to your kids. I mean really listen. Listen to the children when the play. click here

Peace!

It will all come out in the wash.

2023-02-22T07:23:00.002-07:00

Sometimes I get down and feel sorry for myself. This is usually proceeded by something said or not said by a person in my life. You must understand that I have very tender feelings and my heart has been broken more than once by something someone said or did not say. They might not have actually said anything, but they may have looked at me and I thought maybe they were thinking about saying something. To say I am a tad bit paranoid may be an understatement, if you get my drift. I am sure that it all harkens back to the poverty days of my childhood. I take comfort in the fact that my momma did the very best she could. I did make a vow when I became the sole support of five needy little children, that I would do the very best I could. And I did.

Working meant leaving the kids in the care of a babysitter a lot. I hired a single lady from the south end to stay with the kids while I worked. Bless her heart she tried. Sadly the woman had a facial hair problem so did not fit in normal society. In the beginning the kids were scared of her due to the fact that she had a pretty full beard! She always wore an apron and in the pocket was 5 pieces of candy. This, at least, got her in the door! One for each kid. I do not know what they did all day while I was at work, but the house was still standing and there were no injuries to anyone, so I was good with that.

The kids had pretty much become accustomed to her when the boss's son was sent to Viet Nam and his wife needed a place to live. Exit Ida Mae, enter Janice, a live in babysitter. A match made in heaven, or so it seemed. That lasted about 2 weeks. Sam turned up with a long thin bruise on the side of his face. Seems like Janice had struck him with the edge of a wooden ruler. Exit Janice and enter a long string of temporary workers. I do not remember the string of temporary workers that went through my revolving door until finally the kids were old enough to want to go stay alone. Susie was younger so she stayed with Mrs. Bensing. Then, one by one they decided they wanted to attend school in Deerfield and later in Lakin, where their dad lived in Western Kansas.

And then I married Charlie and we moved to Colorado. Susie started school at Jefferson Elementary. Then I divorced Charlie, married Henry, divorced Henry, married Kenny and moved to the Mesa And now it is 40 years later.

After the kids graduated they mostly came back to Colorado. They migrated back and forth beween here and there. And here we set.

I am on the Mesa, a widow of 20 years.

Debbie is in Longton, Kansas married to Hammer who did 2 tours in Viet Nam. She has one son , one granddaughter, and 2 grandsons.

Patty is in Longton, Kansas. She has 2 daughters, one granddaughter, and 3 grandsons.

Dona is in Lakin, Kansas. She owns a beauty shop. She lost one son in an accident and has one living and 2 granddaughters.

Sam is in Dallas, Texas. He is married to Allen. They will take care of me when I get old, next week.

Susie is married to Tim and they have 4 dogs. She lives across town.

I have come a long way from Strong Street, but it is all good. Or at least I think so. I some times get confused and wonder what the hell I was thinking, but like I said up above...

It will all come out in the wash!!

Peace!

His name was Dewite Jackson.

2023-02-09T06:51:00.004-07:00

(That was not his real name, but rather a pseudonym that I shall use in case he is still alive and/or has family back in Nickerson, Kansas.)

Times were definitely different back then. Nickerson Grade School was a 2-story red brick building. Lunch was served in the downstairs Hall for everyone except the little Bartholomew kids who carried potato sandwichs tied up in a handkerchief. The kitchen was located at the end of the hall and right between the girls' bathrooms and the boys' bathrooms. Grades 1-4 were on the first floor and 5-8 were on the second floor. The Principals office was located on the second floor. The principal at the time was Mr. Somebody who was in charge of running the whole school and making sure there was harmony and a conducive atmosphere for learning.

Now, the first thing you should know is that back in those days, 70 years ago life was different. There was a thing that existed called "discipline." It existed in homes and schools across our fair land. It was usually dispensed at home, so schools ran on an even keel and if an incident happened at school (which was a rarity) it was handled in the principal's office.

At the time of this particular incident, I must have been in about the fifth grade. Dewite was probably an eighth grader. Mr. Somebody stormed onto the playground and grabbed Dewite by the ear and marched him into the school, up the stairs and into the Principals office. I have no idea what offence he had committed, but we all knew it was bad! Now we all knew that Dewite was just a little short in the social skills department. Back in those days it was referred to as "odd", and today it would be recognized as a social problem, but that was before the days of "awareness." Back to the story.

Mr. Somebody was a skinny fellow who always wore a suit and tie. Physically he was a skinny man who, in retrospect, would not survive an altercation with anyone else his size. And Dewite was bigger than him. We all stood on the playground looking at the office window which was open. We watched in further amazement as the black rubber hose that was used for disciplining errant students came sailing out the window and landed on the ground. It was followed very shortly with Dewite emerging from the back door of the school and walking across the playground to his home right across the street.

We never saw Dewite again. I think his mother just kept him home because back in those days there were not schools that could handle "special needs". Soon we forgot about him. The music teacher married Mr. Somebody's son, although she loved the coach. I knew many things back then, but few of them have survived the passing of 70 years.

I am rather glad that schools have changed, and students now have rights, which brings me to another point. With rights also comes responsibility. We learned that early in life. Seventy years ago, was a different world. We were taught respect for our elders at home about the same time we learned to walk. We never questioned adult authority and that was not always good. Some adults were not respectable, but we survived. We survived to live another day and to raise kids that respected elders but could also question authority if it did not seem right.

Several years ago, Dona Marie and I went back to Nickerson. They have built a new school and there are homes where the old school stood. Main Street is mostly deserted. Engles Candy and Book store is gone. Warn Appliance. The drug store. IGA moved and Flemings is gone. It is hard for me to realize that all this was seventy years ago! I can still see it in my mind's eye like it was yesterday.

The one thing I have learned is that no matter how things change, the more they stay the same! The schools have changed and discipline is no longer handled behind closed doors with a rubber hose. I think that is good, although I have seen quite a few instances where the old saying "Spare the rod and spoil the child" comes to mind.

Well, for the most part, I think I turned out pretty well, but I do wonder about Dewite and a lot of my classmates. Reminds me of something my oldest daughter is fond of saying, "What don't kill you will make you strong."

And so it goes!

Peace!

I did not write this......

2023-02-08T06:49:00.000-07:00

I did not write this nor do I recall how it got on this blog page, but here it is! I am sure I copied it from somewhere and put it here because it sure seems to hit the nail right on the head!

“If I get dementia, I’d like my family to hang this wish list up on the wall where I live. I want them to remember these things.

If I get dementia, I want my friends and family to embrace my reality. If I think my spouse is still alive, or if I think we’re visiting my family for dinner, let me believe those things. I’ll be much happier for it.
If I get dementia, don’t argue with me about what is true for me versus what is true for you.
If I get dementia, and I am not sure who you are, do not take it personally. My timeline is confusing to me.
If I get dementia, and can no longer use utensils, do not start feeding me. Instead, switch me to a finger-food diet, and see if I can still feed myself.
If I get dementia, and I am sad or anxious, hold my hand and listen. Do not tell me that my feelings are unfounded.
If I get dementia, I don’t want to be treated like a child. Talk to me like the adult that I am.
If I get dementia, I still want to enjoy the things that I’ve always enjoyed. Help me find a way to exercise, read, and visit with friends.
If I get dementia, ask me to tell you a story from my past.
If I get dementia, and I become agitated, take the time to figure out what is bothering me.
If I get dementia, treat me the way that you would want to be treated.
If I get dementia, make sure that there are plenty of snacks for me in the house. Even now if I don’t eat I get angry, and if I have dementia, I may have trouble explaining what I need.
If I get dementia, don’t talk about me as if I’m not in the room.
If I get dementia, don’t feel guilty if you cannot care for me 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. It’s not your fault, and you’ve done your best. Find someone who can help you, or choose a great new place for me to live.
If I get dementia, and I live in a dementia care community, please visit me often.
If I get dementia, don’t act frustrated if I mix up names, events, or places. Take a deep breath. It’s not my fault.
If I get dementia, make sure I always have my favorite music playing within earshot.
If I get dementia, and I like to pick up items and carry them around, help me return those items to their original places.
If I get dementia, don’t exclude me from parties and family gatherings.
If I get dementia, know that I still like receiving hugs or handshakes.
If I get dementia, remember that I am still the person you know and love.”

-Rachel Wonderlin