Visiting Home: Jeannie, Gerry, and Jake

Life at Woodsong has been different this past week as a couple of our kids were in and out all week. Jeannie started the visits on the 8th. She had texted she might be down for a one-day visit if she could get her school work done enough to feel free to come. Next she said she was definitely coming, but she would have to attend a funeral at Johnston City during the brief time she was here. She did arrive that Saturday morning having stopped at motel on the way down. We had a good visit before she needed to leave for the funeral,

Come to find out, a very dear Freeport friend's mother had been on life support and had died upstate, but was being brought down state to be buried by her husband in one of our area cemeteries. Since Jeannie was already hoping to come down, that made it possible for her to attend the funeral.

After the funeral back at Woodsong, we continued catching up. I had been eager to hear about how she was adjusting to teaching art with kindergarten through fifth graders. I was afraid she would not enjoy working with younger kids, but I think she is enjoying the challenge. She teaches at two schools this year. One has a small art room; but at the other school, she has to teach from a cart in other teachers' classrooms. Now that is a challenge! Altogether she sees 500 students, so I do not know how she will be able to know her students very well. There is evidently sometimes another new art teacher co-teaching, but I did not understand how that works. I cannot imagine how one teaches from a cart going from room to room! Yet she does. She has been teaching already about lines and curves, and I saw some of the simple sculptures of colored paper strips made by students.

She had insisted she wanted to take us to dinner Saturday night, so we let her. That was very nice since there was no clean up--and then we came home for more visiting. Finally after her daddy went to bed, we ended up in the living room with Jeannie on the couch along with piles of small blue rectangles containing bolts. Lighting bolts, that is. Bolts on the blue flags. One of the two elementary schools she has shifted to from middle school are called Bolts—not bulldogs or cardinals or some ethnic group that would be criticized but Bolts! The kids would be walking in the high school Homecoming parade and waving their flags, and she was taping on crepe paper streamers before the kids taped on pencils to hold the flags to wave. Although Jeannie has never been a “Let's all do the same thing” kind of art teacher, there were lessons used with the flags. The difference between students' work was interesting. Some of the hand drawn bolts were quite clearly bolts and showed talent and/or neatness. Some few were almost blobs, and probably those children whose past had contained little manipulation of paper, scissors, and creating learned the most from the experience.

A couch full of art stuff was so typical of one of Jeannie's visits that I had to laugh. One pre-Christmas visit she was helping students create 1,000 cranes for decoration. Everyone at Woodsong was invited to join in that Origami project. I had never heard the Chinese/Japanese legend of their crane that lived a 1000 years and that making 1000 cranes would let a person's wish come true. From the 1700s until now, many people have found themselves trying to create 1000 paper birds. The cranes had life-long mates and came to stand for loyalty and faithfulness. They also have come to stand for world peace and healing and almost all good things. If you want to know more about the paper cranes, you might want to read Ari Beser's post “How Paper Cranes Became Symbols of Healing in Japan.”

We talked and talked as Jeannie taped the streamers on the flags, and it was much too late when we went to bed since she was leaving at 5:30 Sunday morning planning on stopping somewhere along the way to attend a worship service. Gerald, of course, was up at 5:30 and saw her off on her way upstate after the too-brief visit.

Soon our minds were focused on the coming visit of Gerry who was on his way from Texas. His bedroom was waiting for him; but it was actually already day time when he arrived on Monday after a two-hour sleep in the truck on his way here. (Yes, he did take a nap after arriving.) Bouncing around in our side yard were three adorable puppies--curly-headed black Boykin spaniels, which Gerry explained were the only hunting dog developed in he United States. He also had Vickie's Nelly because she was in heat, and also Jake, who used to live at Woodsong. One of the puppies was for Gerry's cousin DuWayne, who was good enough to keep all of them and also Nelly while Gerry traveled in and out of Woodsong. When DuWayne brought the Boykins back on Friday night and helped Gerry prepare for the trip back to Texas, he reported the grandkids there had a blast with these sweet good-natured puppies.

Jake stayed with us and acted as though he remembered everyone, and to my delight, he still ran with his little tail curled. (Unfortunately, he also still stayed at Gerald's feet making him have to slow down and watch out for tripping. So Jake went back to Texas after his visit home.)

Throughout the week, we had visiting time with Gerry—especially Gerald who was always helping when Gerry was here at the farm. Gerry was actually here on dog business, and I couldn't keep up with it all. There were bird dog deliveries or purchases at Atlanta and Birmingham and up near Chicago. And there were visits to Union County and with dog/hunting friends in Paulton and Hamilton County. Because his time schedule was so dependent on dogs and other people, Gerry insisted I not cook for him. However, as is typical of his visits, soon there was a plastic pail full of dove carcasses soaking in water in the garage fridge. Although he planned to run to town and get us barbecues, I think he liked it that I had already started frying the doves to go with biscuits and gravy for that supper. At least he bragged on it, and I felt I did a good job of seasoning everything.

Mary Ellen came over to see him when he wasn't here, so I had a good visit with her. And I even had a brief visit with our nephew Bryce.

When Gerry pulled out of the driveway Saturday morning in his pick-up followed by a trailer full of bird dogs, we recalled  those long-ago trips to Mexico for a season of hunting at his lodge. He delivered dogs and arrived home in time to rest up for his job at A&M.

The day after Gerry left, Gerald found the news release from the ScrapYard Dawgs announcing Gerry as head coach for the 2017 National Professional Fastpitch season. Guess this means we have one more team to follow next summer after the college softball season ends. Probably this is a good thing for us. Doctor, eye, hearing, and dental appointments are our major activities in this decade of life! If the kids had not come, that was all I would have had to write about!

September Starts with a Visit from Gerry

Together Gerald and I stood at the garage door and watched our son depart down our long driveway in his rented white van with a trailer full of dogs behind. He had called Gerald that he was coming on bird dog business and invited Gerald to ride up north with him, but Gerald could not accept because of a dental appointment. So Gerry only came by Woodsong on his way back from northern Illinois.

Sometime after 2 this morning, he arrived after long journeys to Louisiana and then up north with little sleep, and he fell into bed where I had left the lamp on for him. (I was in bed but still awake at 2, so that is how I know it was after 2.) Gerald had gone to bed early as usual but then woke up and was up when Gerry arrived. I slept until after 9 as usual, but Gerald and Gerry had already been up early taking care of the dogs and visiting a sick friend of Gerry in another town and back to the farm before lunch. Gerald had already brought in tomatoes from the garden to send with Gerry to Texas. Tomato recipients keep telling us they are the best tomatoes they’ve ever eaten. (I am inclined to think that enjoying delicious garden ripened tomatoes is sort of like every year believing your Christmas tree is the most beautiful one yet.)

Sliced tomatoes were on the lunch table with spaghetti that I’d planned before I knew Gerry was coming. But in his honor, I did slice up okra, dip it in cornmeal, and fry it in oil the way my mother-in-law taught me and the way our kids and grandkids like it. Gerry’s response was gratifying. And we had Gerald’s watermelon for dessert.

Then Gerald and Gerry picked the okra to send home with him and loaded in the tomatoes, watermelons, and cantaloupes. Knowing our three great grandsons would be eating the melons was very pleasing to Gerald since he had heard how much they liked the ones in sent home with them after their visit at the first of August.

Gerry told us at lunch that those three little guys were surprised at the seeds since their store-purchased ones had been seedless. I have smiled all afternoon guessing what three little boys were going to be doing with stray watermelon seeds in their mouths. Fortunately, their parents handle three boys beautifully and understand mischief like that. And fortunately, these three have good manners and kind hearts as well as all-boy energy and normal brotherly aggression.

Our social life this summer has included a trip to see friends in Ziegler and being invited to enjoy an area-famous loose beef sandwich at Maid-Rite in Christopher, visiting new friends and touring their antique-filled home including their bedroom with her wedding gown from over 50 years ago displayed on a manikin, and then seeing lots of friends from near and far at Katie and Alan Ozment’s 50th wedding celebration. Of course, Gerald regularly goes down home to Jonesboro to join brothers and nephews and others for breakfast at JR’s. (He takes any house guest willing to get up at 5 a.m. to make this gathering.) And a dear friend from down there phoned when their classmate and wife came down from Peoria for the McClure reunion; so once again we joined this group for supper in the back room at Anna’s Mexican restaurant.

Another summer highlight came last Friday when Gerald was caught up with all his projects and invited me to take off for a late lunch at the restaurant at top of Pirate’s Bluff looking out over the Ohio River at Cave-in-Rock State Park. The thick greenery beside the road and the deep summer green of the trees on the hills and in the hollows of Shawnee National Forest made the trip there especially lovely. I had never before seen hummingbird feeders held by rubber suction cups, but those feeders on the windowed view of the river and the large potted flowers on the deck outside brought hummingbirds and butterflies to enliven our lunch with their beauty. We spent the rest of the day driving along the river and enjoying the river towns we both find charming. Soon we may be returning as we often do to enjoy the fall coloration so abundant there, but I was grateful to be able to see this season’s green glory.

Blessed by a Gathering and then a Son's Visit

Monday evening I drove over to the little town of Pittsburg, one of several small towns or villages on our side of Williamson County—many of which came about or grew because of the coal mining industry, which used to reign in this region. No longer are most houses occupied by men with carbide lanterns on their hats and who carry their lunch in buckets down in the bowels of the earth. Despite the demise of many mines, some of our villages have survived but others have ceased to exist. When we first moved here in 1962, most of the people we met were miners. Most of those are now retired, deceased, or moved away when a mine closed. Sirens blowing and ambulances rushing on the highway are not as frightening as they used to be when you never knew what had happened at a mine. Right after we moved here, one miner was trapped in a mine. For several days, other miners risked their lives trying to get his body out until they were made to stop. Right now I can’t think of a single miner I know although we still have some mines in the area.

I digress. I went to Pittsburg for our monthly women’s meeting at Tally Taylor’s house. Wearing an orange shirt, she had sweet pumpkin figurines lighted for us and festive lights to welcome us. After yummy sandwiches with chips and dip, there was pumpkin cake, all served with colorful Halloween paper ware. Afterward, we sat at table savoring our cokes and coffee and visiting while we munched on candy corn. It was a neat social gathering with good friends on a cool fall night, but I realized anew how much can be done when everyone in a group pitches in a little.

In our meeting after singing and devotions, we had planned for a Thanksgiving dinner for the entire church and our many friends in the community. Two hams and three turkeys this year. That will provide plenty of take-out for shut-ins at the end of the evening. We eat this turkey and ham early in November because the Saturday night before Thanksgiving is deer hunting season, and some of our families depend on the hunt for their winter food. That works out well since we are hungry for turkey again with our individual extended families on Thanksgiving Day.

We also planned for our month to send Angel Bags home with some of our school children on weekends, our Christmas caroling with goody plates for shut-ins, and we had a volunteer who said she’d do the Christmas shopping for two needy children on the school’s list. Although we usually just slip in a dollar or so when a box or a dish is passed at our meetings, by December we usually have enough to give two children gifts.

No one of us could do all these activities by ourselves, but together, we do so without too much work by most of us. (Of course, some volunteers do the major work, but they have decided they have the time and energy and would get their reward with their enjoyment in the project.)

All over America right now, there are women’s clubs and units and friends’ groups who are busy planning similar activities. There are also business, civic, and fraternal organizations, where men and women are doing the same. I am convinced that such volunteerism has made Americans strong. Some volunteers in housing projects have caught on that to make our children strong, we need to involve them in giving. It is true that America has many self-absorbed and short sighted citizens, but it is an incomplete picture to not recognize the generosity of the many people who give despite their own struggle to pay their house payments, food and medicine bills, while trying to save for their kids’ college funds.

I was somewhat shocked when I came home from Tally’s and soon after had Gerald tell me our son was coming out from Marion. I had prayed for traveling mercies for him all weekend, but I had no idea his trip would include an extension north up through his home territory. Somehow in our discussions of this trip, Gerald and I failed to communicate perfectly. He thought I knew Gerry was coming our way. Although I would have prepared a different menu for Gerald’s left-behind supper when I went to Tally’s if I had known Gerry was coming in, there was adequate food available. (Mothers fret about such things. I remember how much pleasure my mother used to get planning meals when my brother was coming down. “Jimmy loves meat,” she would say as she decided her menu.) And even though Gerry thought he was too tired to eat after his late arrival, he did eat a bite while we visited before we all piled into our beds for needed sleep. The next morning we had time for a leisurely breakfast and more visiting. After lunch he took off for his home in the South and the work awaiting him there leaving behind his stories for us to giggle and talk about in our empty house. Tomorrow is his birthday, and I felt warmly blessed to have had his unexpected visit.

Suddenly It Is Green Again

Almost overnight the greening that nature has been brewing surrounds us. The bushes and shrubs. The grass. The leaves on the trees. The green has all come alive once more joining the beautiful flowering that has been going on for a few weeks now. The temperature was in the 80’s today. As always on April 26, the lilacs are showing lavender. They know it is their responsibility to do so because it is our daughter Katherine’s birthday, and lilacs are one of her favorites.

Driving to Carbondale for our first Illinois Chapter of the Trail of Tears Association this afternoon, I tried to drink in every mile of the roadside beauty. The newly remodeled Morris Library is a venue to make our region proud. With its completion, once again Special Collections has been able to move back home from its temporary hangout during the remodeling.

It was good to hear Melissa Hubbard and Dr. Herman Peterson review for us the work that the 1930’s historians--George Washington Smith, history professor, and John G. Mulcaster, retired Makanda station master--accomplished for the l00th anniversary of the Trail through our region. I especially liked Melissa’s explanation of how the professional historian worked one way collecting documentation while Mulcaster, the amateur like so many of us doing current research on the Trail, worked out in the field interviewing old-timers and thankfully taking the few photos we have of buildings that have since perished. And it felt good to hear Dr. Peterson express gratitude for both kinds of researchers.

We saw a short preview of the next episode of We Shall Remain that will be shown in our region at 8 tomorrow night. Vickie Devenport and Harvey Henson of Southern Illinois University Carbondale had the wonderful “Mapping the Trail of Tears in Southern Illinois” on display in the beautiful new round reception room where we gathering before and after the meeting in the new auditorium. It was fun to see the new coffee bar nearby named Delyte after our beloved SIUC president, the late Delyte Morris. He was there when the library was built in 1955 replacing the old Wheeler Library.

After the meeting at the library and the board meeting following, Gerald and I had a date with our daughter’s family to celebrate her birthday. Gerald had stayed home to follow both Gerry's and Erin's softball games--and I would have liked to also.

Katherine was hoping to be up to going out to get out of the house, but I had also offered to carry in our supper. That turned out to be her choice. So the menu was chicken and dumplings with slaw from Cracker Barrel with some of their old-fashioned bottled sodas. I’d taken one birthday cake in yesterday, and her sister Mary Ellen had sent a second cake yesterday afternoon along with a beautiful bouquet of lilies that Katherine adored. David brought out the ice cream.

Brian carried the flowers and cake into Katherine yesterday because Mary Ellen was much too sick to go in—not wanting to expose Katherine to the lingering cold that seemed to have suddenly turned into something worse. (Mary Ellen came down with Trent and Bri and Fifi in order to meet with a realtor about some acreage they are in process of buying. Brian was already down here farming.) By today Mary Ellen’s whispering voice was more inaudible than yesterday. When Brian took her to urgent care, she had to get four prescriptions from the pharmacy before she and the kids drove back to Lake Saint Louis. Since Brian stayed down to farm, he was able to join us for the birthday celebration tonight.

It was really fun and restful to avoid the crowds at the local restaurants, and Samuel and his buddy Tyler were able to join us for cake without too much interruption to their basketball playing in the driveway. Scooter was glad to be included in the birthday party too.

A Blessed Easter at Woodsong

After a leisurely breakfast with the newspaper, we went to our village church to celebrate the resurrection of Jesus.

Our three little ones in our preschool classroom looked adorable. Wearing pink with ruffles and lace, Miranda explained, “Grandma made my dress.” When Miss Kim took pictures, we knew we were not the first to admire these children today, because one-year-old Caleb without prompting posed and said clearly, “Cheese!” Bobby, looking sharp in dress pants and matching vest, was all excited that Grandpa was coming to dinner. The Easter card he made was to be for his daddy and grandpa.

In the service after Bible study, many had visiting family members with them to worship as a family on this special day. Our oldest member, Zella Cain had family members filling two entire rows. And that was only half of her family, she told us. We sang, “Up From the Grave He Arose” and other traditional hymns. Deanna Odom had a special reading for us, and we sang “Happy Birthday” to Dewayne Covey, who had been looking forward to this tradition, and he had visiting cousins and aunts and uncles there to participate.

Our beloved interim pastor had a second sermon prepared—he and several had gathered earlier at the church for the sunrise service and breakfast that Gerald and I seldom make. In the early years, I would have been out on the lawn hiding eggs and candies in our children’s nests they made on Saturday—just the way my mother was taught to do as a child. Then when our children took over the nest filling for their children, I would be in the kitchen preparing the ham and lunch for the bunch when we came home from church.

Today was different. For the first time in our 52 years of marriage, I did not dye Easter eggs. For the first time in decades, I did not cook Easter dinner. For the first time in several years, most of our children and grandchildren could not be with us. Yet it has been a special and blessed Easter.

We arrived back in Marion last evening from our trip to visit daughter Jeannie’s family and see Elijah and Cecelie participate in the 29th annual Showtime at Freeport High School. Before we refilled the gas tank and I ran inside Kroger’s to get fresh fruit and milk, Katherine phoned and said, “Mom, David has arranged to pick up a prepared Easter dinner for all of us, and we will bring it out to the farm tomorrow. There will be plenty for Mary Ellen’s family too if they are able to make it.”

We took Samuel on home as he was eager to check out the Easter egg doings at Josh’s house—his buddy just behind the park and their house. Sam carried in a large portion of the colored eggs that he had helped dye at the Eiler house and his Aunt Jeannie had sent home with him. So they became part of our dinner today.

He even was invited to participate in the dyeing session going on at my brother’s home when we stopped at Mattoon for a break. Jim’s wife Vivian, who always remembered her grandmother’s huge dishpan full of colored eggs for her many grandchildren, has always tried to approach that sense of bounty for her kids and grandkids. She and her sister Jo, who had arrived from Chicago by train the day before, were laughing and working with a dozen of so cups of color on the large dining table and assisted by my niece Judi getting ready for the egg hunt at their house today. When Sam unobtrusively took a wax crayon from the kit and put a star on an egg, his mother’s cousin Judi had a moment of wonder and confusion when she took a green egg out and unexpectedly saw a star on it.

So after we dropped Sam off at his house, we returned to shop for the few needed items. With the delightful surprise and neat gift for the next day arranged by our son-in-law, I did not even think about what I might need to buy to go with the little half ham I had stowed in the fridge for Katherine’s family and also Mary Ellen’s family if they were able to come down from Lake Saint Louis. I knew Easter dinner would be scant in comparison to some past feasts, but I also knew my children would understand.

David works extraordinary hours already both at the plant and at home helping care for Katherine and Sam, and that he would go to the work and trouble to arrange to bring an entire holiday dinner out to the farm was very touching—and absolutely lovely. When I phoned her an invitation, we found out that Mary Ellen’s family had gone to Springfield—she had known we might not even get back from Freeport for Easter.

So I took the usual leaves out of the dining room table. With Sam’s friend Josh added as a guest, we had six present. Thus, I was able to use the white china with pink roses that I bought long ago at the thrift store when our family had only six members, and the light green cloth that usually only fits the kitchen table. The green stemmed glasses (also from the thrift store) made a pretty table with lilacs and white tulips for the centerpiece.

While the men talked and rested, Katherine and I looked at photo books and enjoyed seeing Tara, Erin, and Leslie as tiny ones. Sam and Josh went looking for minnows and rode the “mule” and played with Scooter and whatever boys do outside.

All too soon the Cedars had to go back home, and Gerald and I were alone again at Woodsong after the flurry of weekend activity. We enjoyed ham sandwiches and reflecting on the day.

We knew from Facebook that Leslie, who’d been in Freeport for the weekend, had succeeded in getting her first car yesterday and was driving it back to Belmont. Tomorrow she finds out about her summer job. Gerry had been off work from recruiting and had been able to go to church with Vickie and Geri Ann at Athens. Like Gerald, I am sure they were in touch with Erin down at College Station and with Tara’s family in northern Illinois, who celebrated with Bryan’s family this weekend. We were still enjoying Gerry’s proud accounts of Erin’s winning home run on Friday and A&M’s second victory against Texas Tech yesterday. And the Georgia Dogs won all three games against Ole Miss this weekend despite rainy weather and lightning delays.

We know that softball is fun and despite its importance to our family, it is not that important in the grand scheme of things. We know that every one of our family members have challenges and concerns—some of which cause us to live life with broken hearts. We know that many good people are out of work in our state, and they didn’t sit down to ham and all the good food that David carried in. We remembered the poignant presentation of world hunger that we saw at Freeport’s Showtime. We know that they are still pirates and thugs and terrorists in the world despite our rejoicing at the captain’s release. We are grateful for a living God who is willing to help us through the struggles here on earth.

Everyone is Home Tonight--for Now

Well, everyone is back to their individual homes, and I am back on my blogging schedule while things are calm again. Because Gerry and Erin both had at-home games today, they got to stay there. I was in meetings at their game times, so I didn’t get to watch on the computer but Gerald did. He even had to fix his own supper. I think Erin and Gerry will be playing at home Friday and Saturday also. Both are free on Easter Sunday.

Leslie, however, will be arriving in Freeport tomorrow night from Belmont for the weekend, and we have reservations there for the next two nights. We are really excited about getting to see Cecelie and Elijah on Friday night in the annual extravaganza Showtime that knocks me off my seat and up on my feet every year. This is Cecelie’s first show since the grade school kids don’t always participate. For Elijah, it is his second year, and I am very eager to see him and the other talented crew since I had to miss his fall play.

I spent this morning looking at old 19th century photographs loaned to me by Betty Baker. I visited her yesterday afternoon after I had spent an hour on the phone interviewing 92-year-old Nola Hertel that Betty had connected me with.
At Betty’s, I heard more family stories and then was entrusted with the photos of the Isham and Laura (Annear) Harrison family of Mulkeytown, who were so important to Priscilla the Hollyhock Girl rescued off the Trail of Tears by Brazilla Silkwood. Priscilla spent the last 16 year of her life living with this family.

My morning was short today because I slept late after staying up late last night sorting and studying these Harrison family photos that Betty inherited from her grandmother Myrtle Snider Browning Penrod. Working with the photos at the dining room table, I was able to get noon dinner on the table for Gerald and me.

Then I shared the photos and information with two other folks this afternoon and evening, attended two back-to-back meetings at church, and in-between activities I got to pick up Sam and his trombone after jazz band practice and then visit with his mother Katherine awhile. She is excited about his upcoming concert next week with the high school band, so maybe I will finally get to hear this group that recently received a superior rating at contest.

Oh and I visited with Scooter, Sam’s dog, too. I forgot to put my large over-the-shoulder bag up when I entered the house, and Scooter rapidly found it and started scattering coins and stuff across the floor. I understand that when he escapes the front door, he gives everyone merry chases in the park next door. Yesterday it took their big dog Lucy, the golden doodle, to chase Scooter down and stop him until he had his lease on again. Today he scared Sam when he ran in front of a motorcycle driving through the park. I am sure he scared that driver too. Scooter is one of those little dogs who just seems to be everywhere. He is an adorable fluffy white puppy, and we can’t help but forgive him for his mischief.

Watching Softball at Woodsong

A weekend highlight happened Friday afternoon when our granddaughter Leslie dropped by Woodsong. She was on her way up from Belmont in Nashville, Tennessee, to see two girl friends at the University of Illinois.

The next day the three were heading over to Belleville to meet up with the Freeport High School speech team at the state tournament. Today Leslie made the long drive back to Belmont after going to church with a friend in Effingham. Her Aunt Mary and cousin Brianna were able to come across the river and have lunch with her at Belleville.

Otherwise our weekend was taken up with following Texas A&M softball team playing in the Marriott Houston Invitational tourney and the University of Georgia softball team hosting the 6th annual Georgia Softball Classic at Athens.

When Leslie arrived, we were able to report Texas A&M’s first victory where they beat Northern Illinois 14-2. Her cousin Erin’s exciting 5 for 6 hitting success with seven RBIs, which included a three-run homer, kept the phone lines buzzing between Woodsong and Tara up at Aurora and Vickie down in Georgia. Her heavy hit over the score board excited the game-tracker announcers—but not as much as Erin’s family fans. Oh, yes, she also put out the two Northern runners who were silly enough to try to steal. Later that night, A&M defeated Prairie View 11-1. More phone calls followed.

Ranked 16th in the nation now, Georgia also won both their Friday games, winning against Ball State 15-3 in five innings and Tennessee State 8-0 in five. We went to bed happy for Erin and happy for our son Gerry at Georgia, where he is assistant coach.

Saturday morning the grey rainy day suddenly turned to a snowy day. Since Gerald needed a tool at Sears, he volunteered to take me to my hair appointment in his pickup. I hadn’t thought about it being slick, but evidently it was because we passed a car on Route 13 that had flown across the medium and across our west-bound lane and into the ditch. We got home in time for me to fix lunch and for us to have it eaten before the afternoon games began.

After A&M shut out McNeese State 3-0, and Erin batted .500, we were pumped to listen that evening to the game against home-team Houston Cougars, who were ranked 18 while A&M had slipped to 19th because of recent away-game losses. After battling the wind in a come-from-behind game, A&M forced the game into an eighth inning. The game-breaker rule placed Erin on second base in this inning. She made third thanks to Alex Reynolds’ sacrifice, and then onto home, thanks to Kelsey Spittler’s game-winning single. We went to bed happy after that 4-3 victory. Georgia had won over Marshall 9-1 in six innings and over Indiana University-Purdue University Indianapolis 15-3 in five innings.

Today started with a very early phone call from Gerry to his dad, and I am sure they talked softball. We thought we would see both of “our” teams won their respective tournaments with five wins apiece. But that wasn’t to be. Georgia did win their tourney by defeating the University of North Carolina Greensboro 12-2 in five innings—their ninth straight victory with the mercy rule. They had hit 10 home runs in this tourney, and their tournament batting average was .425. Next weekend they travel to the National Fastpitch Coaches Association Leadoff Classic in Columbus, Georgia.

Texas A&M was to play University of Illinois for the championship at Houston, and the game was in the fourth inning when we got home from church. Soon Gerald had the game going, and I brought down chili for our lunch, which is what we also ate last night while we watched their game.

When Kelsey Spittler made a big hit in the bottom of the seventh to tie up the game, I thought for sure we’d repeat last night’s victory. But Illinois scored a run, and then despite our game-breaker runner making it to third, we couldn’t get the hits to bring her home. We lost 5-4 and are going to bed sad tonight, but I am sure we aren’t as sad as those kids on the bus heading back to College Station, However, they will be playing on their home field for awhile now, and I predict more sweet dreams next weekend.

Mid-Winter Mish Mash

One day the weather is Southern Illinois allows us to go coatless; and the next day when we try it, the wind makes us sorry. Today was pretty again although a jacket was in order.


Son-in-law Bryan and Brianna were down from Lake Saint Louis yesterday. Somehow Brianna and Sam ended up at the Illinois Centre Mall, where I spent the day with Southern Illinois Writers Guild members at our fourth annual Winter Book Fair. The mall sets up tables for us in the center section by the fountains, and we sell and sign books and SIWG anthologies while talking to mall strollers. It is always fun to table hop and visit with the other writers as well as talk with past and potential customers. With the economy like it is, no one expects to sell many books.


Brianna had been to the nearby movie theater with the older sister of Sam’s friend Josh. Not only do cousins from afar keep in touch by texting, but they meet and become friends with each other’s friends. Thus, Brianna came from Missouri and ended up at the movies in Illinois with Josh’s sister. Then Sam, who had been under the weather earlier in the day, was feeling better, so son-in-law David brought him out to meet Brianna to explore the mall until we wrapped up the Book Fair at 4 and they could ride out to Woodsong with me.


I needed to buy bananas to give us potassium, and we were out of grapes and getting low on oranges, so we ran by Kroger’s as I had planned and bought sandwiches from the deli there and gas for my near-empty car with our 15 cent discount on the Kroger credit card. Then Brianna, Sam, and I headed out to Woodsong, where Gerald and Brian were finishing up their afternoon projects.


We soon were eating the sandwiches and chips with ice cream and the cookies the kids chose for dessert. (I meant to send the rest of the chocolate milk and those cookies home with one grandchild or the other, so Gerald and I would not be tempted. However, in the concentration to get to Sunday School this morning, I forgot the cookies and milk, so maybe I can take them into Sam’s tomorrow or the next day.)


After helping teach our preschoolers during Sunday School, I stayed on for the extended session during worship. One of our high schoolers came in to help me. It pleases me when teens like Cody come in, because I can remember well many years ago when our son Gerry and his friend Tom were among the boys who helped with the babies and toddlers and preschoolers. Always under the direction of an adult, of course. What real training those sessions were for parenthood.


Worship must have been through hymns today and a little shorter than usual as our interim pastor became ill and had to go home before the service started. Cody said maybe it was a good thing he was not in the choir that long as he was tired. He had not slept well last night, so he got up and texted his friend over in Britain, where the sun was shining. Nevertheless, tired or not, he interacted with the children who keep us hopping.


Preschoolers crave watchful attention, and we give it. One-year-old Caleb delights himself when with intense concentration he learns to manipulate various toys or blocks. Then my heart melts when he looks up to make sure I am watching to admire his achievement. To know my watching means that much to him is as great a reward as our mutual handclapping when he gets the blocks stacked right or places the coin in the slot on the little toy farm barn that he gravitates to every Sunday.


After church, we headed down to the Old Home Place at Goreville to introduce the Taylors and Sam to Patrick and Tina’s new restaurant. Our meal was delicious but plentiful, so three take-home boxes were asked for. Sam left with Brian and Brianna for them to drop him off in Marion on their way back to Missouri.


Gerald wanted to check out an uncommon way back to the farm, so we wandered through country roads like Webb Town road, where we passed the Glen Webb Family Farm established in 1856, and on to roads with names like Wagon Creek Road and Creal Springs Road and finally back to Route 166 where we would turn off onto New Dennison Road and be home to check the softball scores.


The Georgia Dogs had had another good weekend with four shut-out victories in the Black and Red Showcase there at Athens. However, after winning a 14-inning game Wednesday at Huntsville, Texas, against Sam Houston and winning against them again on Friday in the opener at the Easton Tiger Classic at Baton Rouge, Texas A&M had a bad hair day yesterday losing to Ohio State and LSU. Then in bracket play today, they were ahead of LSU until the bottom of the sixth, when LSU rallied with three runs. A&M lost 3 to 4, so I know Vickie and Geri Ann left Louisiana with heavy hearts just as Erin did traveling back to College Station. But Coach Jo Evans was upbeat about all the things the girls did right.


With no church services tonight to allow our pastor to recuperate, we watched some TV, and I am reflecting early on the past week to write this blog. There was the trip up to Rend Lake College to the little restored school house on campus, where Lori Ragsdale had a reception to announce all the life-long learning opportunities coming up. I gave my pitch for our tour through Southern Illinois to revisit the Trail Where the Cherokee Cried. Since it was Lincoln’s birthday, Lori had arranged for Abe and Mary Lincoln performers to give a brief program too. Of course, I was also thinking about granddaughter Geri Ann's 15th birthday.


As always when I am passing by and have time, I pulled off at the Sesser exit at Whittington and visited the Southern Illinois Arts and Artisans Center. It truly is a visual buffet, and although I can’t afford the expensive art objects there, I like looking. I was able to pick up some books and items from the bargain table.


I stayed in Marion to attend Sam’s winter band concert, and before I headed home, I stopped off at Latta Java and was able to hear the last couple SIWG readers there.


Gerald had gone on an Angel Flight with his friend Herman Hood to Arkansas to pick up a patient in route to hospital treatments. I wasn’t sure if he would be at home when I returned or not. He had been playing with going down to Louisville, KY, to the annual farm show after the Angel Flight, but he was back at home asleep in his armchair watching television (ha) when I returned to Woodsong.


The next morning at 3:30 I woke up to see a wide-awake husband with his cap already on and a dance in his step as he scooped his change from the dresser and anticipated his adventure heading to Louisville. I wasn’t surprised, because I knew he really wanted to see all the new stuff that would be on display down there in the acres and acres under roof. I was surprised when he called before 6 that night and instead of staying all night in Louisville as he and his brothers’ custom was for years, he was already back in Illinois and heading home wanting to know if he should pick up supper in Harrisburg or would I like to celebrate with a Valentine’s dinner in Marion. I figured he must be tired, so I let him choose and soon we were eating a lovely dinner at my favorite restaurant in town.


It has been a good week with one afternoon spent studying Gary Hacker’s new book on the Trail of Tears through Johnson County and now several new books from Southern Illinois writers waiting for me to find time to read or at least skim through them. While I sat at the mall yesterday, I was able to read Joanne Blakely’s just published beautiful poetry chapbook. I certainly recommend it and Gary’s book.

Meeting Maddux Mark

When the phone call came that our granddaughter Tara and husband Bryan were bringing the new baby to meet his three great grandparents and one great great grandmother here at this end of the state, we were excited. It has been a long wait for us to meet Maddux, who was born December 9. With the holidays and bad weather and icy roads, it was not wise to come earlier. Now the plan was to leave the Chicago area after the boys woke up on Saturday morning, and we’d be ready with a late lunch when they arrived at Woodsong. .

All the Southern Illinois relatives were eager for this visit. And we were equally eager to see Maddux’s big brother Aidan, who will be three at the end of May and is a delight. Gerald had spent a week being sure the tractor, the lawn mower, the mule, and the special grandchild wagon were all ready to go. He knew that he and Aidan would ride all of them during the visit. And within a couple of hours of the family’s arrival, they had all been used by Great Gpa Gerald and Aidan. I think Gerald pretty much let Aidan run things out there, although he did have to decline when Aidan wanted to pull Gerald in the little red wagon.

The Taylors were down for the day from Lake Saint Louis, and the Cedars came out from nearby Marion. Aidan had a big time playing with his mother’s younger cousins and their friends. The cousins also liked having their brief turns holding Maddux. With people coming and going, lunch turned into snacks and then into supper time with food in the crock pots.

We had spent the week planning menus and making plans for this especially happy weekend. And it was. Maddux was as sweet as we knew he would be. He did not sleep much after his arrival on Saturday when he was being passed from one Glasco aunt, uncle, or cousin to another. And then for dinner and evening at Gma Shirley’s, he was passed and admired and loved by all his Johnson relatives.

But with the deaths of two community friends, it was an especially sad weekend also. Gerry drove up from Georgia for a burial and funeral, and we were all grieving for these families. Nevertheless, Gerry had the pleasure of seeing his two grandsons along with the rest of us. That was very good.

He had already met Maddux at Christmas time, and Aidan had stayed at their house almost a week before Christmas. Aidan was so happy to see Gpa Gerry again. Despite some sweet genetic shyness, Aidan is a wonderfully good natured child who is pleased to see anyone who loves him, and all of us do. He has a smile that can make you feel like a million dollars. And to our amazement, when we talked directly to Maddux, he also gave brief little smiles. Tara said that just started a week ago.

Today Maddux was ready to catch up on his sleep, and we discovered he was just as sweet sleeping in our arms as he had been awake yesterday. I got my turn holding him in the church nursery, and the other nursery worker knew I deserved this special treat. She knew I’d be serving lunch when we got back to Woodsong, so this hour was especially important to me. Aidan was quickly involved playing with Toby, who was just a few months older than Aidan.

After lunch, the Archibalds packed their van and were on their way back to Aurora. I hope they are at home and asleep now.

Gerry drove up to Mt. Pleasant Cemetery at Poor-Do for the burial of Jeannie’s classmate Mark Mocaby. Mark had been a freshman when Gerry was a high school senior and they played basketball together. Afterwards he visited with other friends in that neighborhood until the time for Estes Hosman’s funeral visitation. We were to meet him there at the funeral home. .

We did, but the line was backed up for a long distance into the street, and it was bitter cold. We decided we had best not brave that long stand outside in addition to another long stand inside, and we left Gerry standing to pay homage to his friend. It was Estes and Chester, who taught Gerry about horses when we gave him a horse rather than a motorcycle at the end of eighth grade. (Gerry knew how to negotiate.) Estes and Cheyl’s daughter Jamie was the flower girl at Gerry and Vickie’s wedding almost 30 years ago.

Our hearts are heavy for the families of these two young men (one 60 and one 47). Yet we felt very blessed tonight before bedtime to have this long unexpected visit with Gerry as we sat and talked. He saw so many friends today that he had not seen in many many years, and we liked hearing about these folks also. We will have another brief visit with him in the morning before the 11 o’clock funeral and he starts the long drive back to Georgia. It has been an odd weekend—certainly not the undiluted joyful one we had anticipated.

Getting Closer and Getting Done—I Hope!

Monday Gerald and I went to Carbondale as he had a hearing aide check up, and we thought we could visit some stores to shop. That much we accomplished. We planned next to go on down to Cobden after lunch and go by an orchard for apples and by Bill and Mickey Tweedy’s house for a quick drop-in visit. When it started snowing rather heavily, we decided we better get back to Marion. We did stopping for lunch on the way back to the farm. By then it had quit snowing so hard, and we took time to go by the Dollar Store for Christmas cards and a few other items. I found Aidan a battery-run play chain saw that makes a wonderful noise that I think he will love and his mother will hate me for. We stopped and picked up the Christmas letters from the fast print shop, where we had left them on our way over to Carbondale.

Back home I started working again on clearing up all the insurance papers, Medicare papers, and doctor/hospital bills on the dining room table. Ever since computers were invented, I have been unable to understand what I see on such bills. I hate messing with them. They come so many months after the event/appointment that I get very confused.

I miss the days when we had no insurance. I used to stop as I left the doctor’s office and write a check for $5 a visit if I remember correctly. (Gerald’s ag economics professor said health insurance wouldn’t pay off for a young farm family—and he was correct. The only year we had children in the hospital—two children, one of whom was in two different hospitals—we did have insurance. Gerald had bought group insurance, which a fellow farmer—older and much admired—had started more to help other people than himself. Gerald wanted to support his efforts. The next year we dropped the insurance. (Gerald said we would have been fine without the insurance—using the premium to pay the bills—but it was comforting to know we were covered.)

But we are no longer a young farm family, and times have changed. So we did get insurance many years ago. Yet it would be so nice to walk out of a doctor’s office and know the only paper we’d ever see would be the picture of the cancelled check when we received our bank statement. I have to wonder how much all that paper work costs per visit.

But I digress. I was determined to get those bills off the dining room table and a Christmas tablecloth put on before I started addressing Christmas cards on a table downstairs in the den. And I did it. Never mind that today I got one doctor’s bill back because somehow I had failed to put a stamp on it. I phoned the orchard to see about sending apples to my sister in Texas as I did last Christmas—but they explained it was too cold to ship apples now. Oh. I did not think of that.

Tuesday was made exciting with the belated arrival of Erin, our Texas A&M granddaughter. She started through Arkansas on Monday, where the roads were so bad that her grandfather and father advised her to get a motel that night. The next morning she started out only to soon have a two-hour delay while cars were cleared that had gone into the side of a bridge there.

Fortunately she had a book along to read. She also had a tiny black dog with huge ears named Acie to keep her company. No, it isn’t hers, but one she is keeping through the holidays for a housemate. Throughout the trip, she talked to her grandfather as she progressed to Illinois. Finally we were eating hamburgers together at the end of the day and getting acquainted with Acie, who somehow the next day ended up at Erin’s other grandmother’s house down the road apiece, and evidently they have quite a friendship going.

Erin has been busy and keeping us young as she comes and goes from Woodsong. She is connecting with friends here at home, helping her Gma Shirley (the dog sitter) get her Christmas shopping done, and visiting her high school teachers, We like having her around and teasing her about her “good jeans”—the ones with holes all up and down the legs—the expensive ones.

Yesterday I finished my first batch of cards, and today they were mailed. Who knows when the next batches will go out. I have sent cards (stragglers) in July. I like to keep in touch with old friends, and I know they have more time to read letters after the holidays.

I managed to finish my Christmas shopping Tuesday afternoon including a substitute gift for the apples I could not send my sister and husband. Gerald mailed that and her birthday present yesterday while he was in town. Gerald bought the men’s gifts today.

When he took over buying for the guys in the family a couple of years ago, he relieved me of my annual conundrum—what to buy for the men. This year he outdid himself and even wrapped them this afternoon while I was at Katherine’s house helping her when an aide could not come. We had fun going through her gift drawer deciding what she had stored away for various folk. I offered to wrap and was told she wanted that fun. (She had no idea how relieved I was.)

Sam came in with his trombone all excited about his school day. Instead of his regular classes, he had played with jazz band for the Rotary Club and a nursing home with lunch at McDonald’s in between. Two earlier performances this week were cancelled because of weather/illness problems, so he was quite pleased these were not.

Tomorrow we go to Lake Saint Louis for skin checks from a dermatologist there that our daughter Mary Ellen recommended, and we will visit with her family. Erin and Acie are heading to her family in Georgia, where she will also see her nephew Aidan, who flew home with his Gma Vickie on Tuesday. Gerry has been having fun watching cartoons with him, and of course Geri Ann loves having him around. He loves being around “G” and will be excited to see his “E” when she drives in.

After the weekend they will head to Aidan’s house. Tara says Maddux is missing his big brother Aidan. Gma Vickie will get to rock Maddux again while Gpa Gerry and Tara’s sisters meet him for the first time. Erin is taking our presents for that northern Illinois family by way of Georgia. Because tomorrow she is driving an older car of Gerry’s left in a shop here for repair, Erin’s is leaving her vehicle for their return stop from northern Illinois. So the rest of our presents for her family stay here. Come to think of it, it is not just the doctors’ bills that are complicated in this 21st century.

A Nice Fall Day

Fifty years ago today one of my fondest wishes came true. I had a new baby son. So naturally I have thought about Gerry all day today.

After I had put on a roast for our noon meal, I had time read a bit of Charles Frazier’s thirteen moons and regretted having to stop just when I got to the part of the story about the Cherokee Removal.

Being able to leave a clean kitchen to come home to barely gave me time to make it to the optometrist appointment at 2:30 in Marion. But I arrived early even after circling the block to find their beautiful new building, which still did not have an identifying sign since Dr. Power had only moved into it on Monday. Remembering the news account of a car accidentally slamming into his old office and sending patients flying, I knew he was relieved to be in a brick building with a little more space between the building and parking lot.

There I had a couple of concerns taken care of. On Saturday I had received notice from the insurance company that the over $200 left on my bill for glasses last December was not covered. I had already paid $95 in December and assumed the rest was all paid off. Immediately the women in the office assured me that this was properly covered because of its being related to the cataract surgery I had just had. They said the insurance company did this all the time and a simple phone call from them would fix it. (Why do I suspect that the insurance company enjoyed using the doctor’s money all this time?)

Then the doctor himself relieved my concern about the cataract on the other eye. I was afraid that it might have become so much worse that I would need to have the surgery before Christmas, which was exactly what I was planning to do when I had made today’s appointment many weeks ago. He assured me, however, that I could have the surgery safely with the new procedures despite being on coumadin. But also that it would probably not hurt for me to wait the six months until I am off coumadin. We talked politics during and after the exam, so the entire appointment was pleasant and interesting.

Then I was on my way around the block to Dr. Kaarsbery’s office in this newly developed professional park out by our new hospital. She wanted me to have another INR reading today to make sure she is adjusting the coumadin dosage correctly. Last week the reading had been high. A single prick on the finger and the meter assured me I was in the normal range this week.

By now it was getting cool and dark. I had to put on the jacket in the car that I’d avoided wearing. After a quick visit with Katherine, I was back to the Kroger store to pick up the prescriptions I had left there to be filled. I bought as few groceries as I could get by with because it was past supper time and I needed to hurry. With three baked chicken thighs from the deli and fresh fruit, I figured I had sufficient other foods to fill in the blank for Gerald’s supper. We were eating within l0 minutes after I arrived home, and I emptied the car after supper and Obama’s infomercial.

It had turned out to be a good day—just as it was 50 years ago.