MAKING GRAVEL
In the 1950's, growing up on a mountain on 360 acres of land full of wild fruits, nuts and berries, natural springs and where hunting and farming was plentiful; where one could, and we did, raise, harvest or kill most anything we needed to sustain us. An occasional trip into town would provide us with the “staples” like flour, sugar, coffee, etc.
We had all the farm animals we needed. We planted a huge garden full of everything we wanted. In the wild, we could find Blackberries, Muskedines, Plums, Mulberries, Black Halls, Hickory Nuts, and Black Walnuts. We hunted and ate Squirrel, Rabbit, and birds. We would have the occasional winter Deer hanging in the breezeway for several meals.
So to say we were poor folks was not entirely true, even though we seldom had two nickels to rub together (Buffalo Nickels in those days). Being ‘po folks had its merits. We found ourselves being frugal with what we did have; “waste not, want not” would be the kinds of words coming from our Granny’s mouth. But being poor also meant we couldn’t always go and buy everything we wanted.
Making gravel comes to mind as I reminisce in my rocking chair today. There’s no doubt that the old farm grew Sandstone Rock in abundance! Why, we could hardly plow a new field without carrying and stacking enough rocks to make a fence around it! Also, what does a Dad do with 4 boys full of energy? “Hey!! Let’s make GRAVEL!!” Being a pipeline welder and having all the tools one needed for that trade, Dad would bring out the Ball-Pein (or Ball-Peen) Hammers, set us down in the middle of our Lane, in a low spot that needed gravel and bring us a pile of rocks! The Sandstone was easy enough to break up as we smashed and bashed our way through the pile, venting emotions and working up appetites! With no TV, Game Boys, videos or other electronic games to detract us, we managed to produce something that only a Dad could appreciate! Looking at the opening scenes of "O Brother, Where art thou?", takes me back to the good old days of child labor in the Lane. The only thing different, besides our age, was the cool, striped clothing and the chains. I suppose we were too poor to afford chains!
Mike Thomas
Survivor of
The Good Old Days
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Whatever happened to “The Fuller Brush Man”?
As a kid growing up on the old farm in Arkansas, the Fuller Brush man was as local as most anyone! In those days, (and I’m trying not to mention that this was the 50’s) everyone had to make a living doing something. Dad was a pipeline welder and traveled a lot; gone most every week and occasionally coming home on weekends just in time to give us the swat we deserved. Grandpa did some farming, although, Mom says he was a very lazy man and would go out of his way to NOT do something, even for himself!
Mom worked hard around that old farm; nothing was easy and she had to contend with all of it! It was seldom that we had company. Most of our neighbors were busy trying to put beans on the table and there wasn't much time for visiting! It was usually during the most inopportune times that the Fuller Brush Man would come around; the traveling salesman selling goods of all kinds, door to door, country farmhouse to country farmhouse.
Although this man had (or could get) most anything you would want, the one thing we actually lacked was the money to BUY anything! I suppose Mom hated to confront these high powered salesmen, like most of us today, too!
Our old house set off the main road (should I say the “main DIRT road”. Our driveway was called a “lane”, as it was fairly long, but visible from the road. Somehow Mom knew when the Fuller Brush Man was coming! He would probably stop and open our gate, then drive his old klunker down our lane to get to our house. Mom somehow always knew when he was approaching! Perhaps it was the barking hound dogs! Anyway, she would grab us kids and have us be quiet as we hid somewhere. The old house only had a screen door on it; no locks or anything. One could see all the way to “outside” if you looked.
So as the Fuller Brush Man drove down our lane, Mom would gather us kids like chickens and head us off into a closet somewhere, while the man knocked and knocked on our door. Mom made us be very quiet and still so as not to let on that we was home or anything! Eventually he got tired of knocking and left; then we came out and peered down the Lane just to make sure he was gone!
Then Mom would smile; satisfied that she fooled the Fuller Brush Man once again.
Mike Thomas
Old Guy
As a kid growing up on the old farm in Arkansas, the Fuller Brush man was as local as most anyone! In those days, (and I’m trying not to mention that this was the 50’s) everyone had to make a living doing something. Dad was a pipeline welder and traveled a lot; gone most every week and occasionally coming home on weekends just in time to give us the swat we deserved. Grandpa did some farming, although, Mom says he was a very lazy man and would go out of his way to NOT do something, even for himself!
Mom worked hard around that old farm; nothing was easy and she had to contend with all of it! It was seldom that we had company. Most of our neighbors were busy trying to put beans on the table and there wasn't much time for visiting! It was usually during the most inopportune times that the Fuller Brush Man would come around; the traveling salesman selling goods of all kinds, door to door, country farmhouse to country farmhouse.
Although this man had (or could get) most anything you would want, the one thing we actually lacked was the money to BUY anything! I suppose Mom hated to confront these high powered salesmen, like most of us today, too!
Our old house set off the main road (should I say the “main DIRT road”. Our driveway was called a “lane”, as it was fairly long, but visible from the road. Somehow Mom knew when the Fuller Brush Man was coming! He would probably stop and open our gate, then drive his old klunker down our lane to get to our house. Mom somehow always knew when he was approaching! Perhaps it was the barking hound dogs! Anyway, she would grab us kids and have us be quiet as we hid somewhere. The old house only had a screen door on it; no locks or anything. One could see all the way to “outside” if you looked.
So as the Fuller Brush Man drove down our lane, Mom would gather us kids like chickens and head us off into a closet somewhere, while the man knocked and knocked on our door. Mom made us be very quiet and still so as not to let on that we was home or anything! Eventually he got tired of knocking and left; then we came out and peered down the Lane just to make sure he was gone!
Then Mom would smile; satisfied that she fooled the Fuller Brush Man once again.
Mike Thomas
Old Guy
Friday, February 06, 2009
MARBLES.......A thing of the past?
As I recall grade school was fun. I suppose many of the not-so-fun memories have been suppressed, but I’m okay with that! Everyone likes to remember only the best anyway; I’m no different. One of my fondest recollections was the days of “shootin’ doogies” (pronounced dew -gies). Now if you know what a “doogie” is, I’m certain the word congers up some old memories of your past. Perhaps you had a favorite doogie; I know I did!
Another way to say all this is to simply say, playing marbles. Yes, marbles. This was a favorite game of many of us as we grew up through grade school. Things are much different today and marbles are pretty much history. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen kids playing marbles……probably in grade school, more than 50 years ago! Where has the time gone??
But for the sake of reminiscing, let’s go back in time and play a game. A small group of five or six of us would head out to an obscure corner of the playground, away from the runners and scufflers, so we had some privacy, then clean off a small area of the ground; removing the twigs, rocks, grass, leaves and any other obstruction. One of us would then draw a perfect circle in the dirt. This was our circle of play.
The group would determine how many players would play at a time; perhaps three or 4, at the most. Each player would put three or four marbles into the circle. Each player would take turns shooting his marble; first, from the line, into the mass of marbles within the circle, trying to knock one out of the circle; much like shooting Pool. We all had our own method of shooting. My favorite method was to cradle the marble between the tip of my right index finger and the first knuckle of my thumb. The back of the hand had to lie on the dirt. For our first shot, the knuckle of the index finger was positioned directly on the line as the starting point. The tip of the thumb to the first knuckle was restrained by the second, or middle finger. Mustering my strength, I would use much effort to push my thumb against the middle finger; at the same time my middle finger would not allow my thumb to move!
With a burst of movement, I would quickly release my thumb, which shot the marble forward towards my target. It’s amazing how much force you can generate and really get that doogie moving! The doogie would rocket forward; hit the target squarely in the middle (assuming all went according to the plan). The target would then be propelled forward, hopefully leaving the circle! If it did, I kept the opponent’s marble, FOR KEEPS…..if we played for keeps. Sometimes we didn’t, but it was more fun if we did!
Another way I sometimes shot was to cradle the marble within the inside of my right index finger, curling it around the marble, with my thumb being restrained behind my middle finger, as in the first example. My knuckles would be down on the ground to steady the hand, I suppose. With a burst of energy, I would release my thumb, thus, propelling the marble forward.
Sometimes, we would allow the “over-sized” marbles to play. They were much larger marbles and difficult to hold, so they could also be rolled, as in bowling. However, the starting point was from the line and the knuckle could not cross the line without penalty! A penalty would generally mean “losing your marble”. Sound familiar??
The word “Marble” meant any type of round, glass or steel) ball, about one half inch in diameter. They could either be “solids” (a single solid color), a “Cat’s Eye” (which looked like a Cat’s EYEBALL, or even one with the textured swirl of real marble. “Steelies” were of similar physical size, but nothing more than a stainless steel ball bearing. They were more difficult to launch, but their weight could knock ‘em out! They were not always allowed in the game.
Assuming we knocked our target marble from within the circle, we would get a second shot, as a bonus. Wherever our doogie landed, that’s where we made our next shot. If we had landed outside the circle, we would then shoot from the line again. More times than not, the circle was large enough that capturing another’s doogie meant having a nice, hard packed dirt field, and some serious speed on takeoff! Ideally, hitting another’s marble dead center would tend to stop our own from traveling too far after impact, again, much like in shooting pool. Real planning could mean our second shot was within inches of another doogie, which greatly improved our chances of more wins. The game would continue as we kept shooting until we missed! Once we missed, we let our doogie remain where it stopped, hoping no one would pick it off for himself, and waited until everyone had a turn before it was ours again.
I remember keeping my marbles in an old tobacco sack. In those days, loose tobacco came in a small sack, or pouch with a pull string top that closed. The tobacco would be opened by the smoker, who rolled his own. One of his hands would hold the thin cigarette paper, forming a trough, into which he poured a small amount of tobacco from his sack.. Once he had the right amount poured into the paper trough, he would hold one string in his other hand and lift the sack to his mouth, biting down on the other string. As he pulled the string, the sack would close. Tobacco sacks made great marble sacks! Some kids had a small leather pouch to keep their marbles in. Those were very cool! We never carried all of our marbles around with us, just about enough to fill a tea cup, or so; and just enough to show the kids we COULD win once in a while!
When the game ended, our hope was that we walked away with more marbles than we brought with us! Trading marbles was also good. If my sack was running low, I could always pull out my favorite marble; that especially unusual marble and start the trading! If not…….well, tomorrow was another day; another chance to win!
Another way to say all this is to simply say, playing marbles. Yes, marbles. This was a favorite game of many of us as we grew up through grade school. Things are much different today and marbles are pretty much history. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen kids playing marbles……probably in grade school, more than 50 years ago! Where has the time gone??
But for the sake of reminiscing, let’s go back in time and play a game. A small group of five or six of us would head out to an obscure corner of the playground, away from the runners and scufflers, so we had some privacy, then clean off a small area of the ground; removing the twigs, rocks, grass, leaves and any other obstruction. One of us would then draw a perfect circle in the dirt. This was our circle of play.
The group would determine how many players would play at a time; perhaps three or 4, at the most. Each player would put three or four marbles into the circle. Each player would take turns shooting his marble; first, from the line, into the mass of marbles within the circle, trying to knock one out of the circle; much like shooting Pool. We all had our own method of shooting. My favorite method was to cradle the marble between the tip of my right index finger and the first knuckle of my thumb. The back of the hand had to lie on the dirt. For our first shot, the knuckle of the index finger was positioned directly on the line as the starting point. The tip of the thumb to the first knuckle was restrained by the second, or middle finger. Mustering my strength, I would use much effort to push my thumb against the middle finger; at the same time my middle finger would not allow my thumb to move!With a burst of movement, I would quickly release my thumb, which shot the marble forward towards my target. It’s amazing how much force you can generate and really get that doogie moving! The doogie would rocket forward; hit the target squarely in the middle (assuming all went according to the plan). The target would then be propelled forward, hopefully leaving the circle! If it did, I kept the opponent’s marble, FOR KEEPS…..if we played for keeps. Sometimes we didn’t, but it was more fun if we did!
Another way I sometimes shot was to cradle the marble within the inside of my right index finger, curling it around the marble, with my thumb being restrained behind my middle finger, as in the first example. My knuckles would be down on the ground to steady the hand, I suppose. With a burst of energy, I would release my thumb, thus, propelling the marble forward.
Sometimes, we would allow the “over-sized” marbles to play. They were much larger marbles and difficult to hold, so they could also be rolled, as in bowling. However, the starting point was from the line and the knuckle could not cross the line without penalty! A penalty would generally mean “losing your marble”. Sound familiar??
The word “Marble” meant any type of round, glass or steel) ball, about one half inch in diameter. They could either be “solids” (a single solid color), a “Cat’s Eye” (which looked like a Cat’s EYEBALL, or even one with the textured swirl of real marble. “Steelies” were of similar physical size, but nothing more than a stainless steel ball bearing. They were more difficult to launch, but their weight could knock ‘em out! They were not always allowed in the game.
Assuming we knocked our target marble from within the circle, we would get a second shot, as a bonus. Wherever our doogie landed, that’s where we made our next shot. If we had landed outside the circle, we would then shoot from the line again. More times than not, the circle was large enough that capturing another’s doogie meant having a nice, hard packed dirt field, and some serious speed on takeoff! Ideally, hitting another’s marble dead center would tend to stop our own from traveling too far after impact, again, much like in shooting pool. Real planning could mean our second shot was within inches of another doogie, which greatly improved our chances of more wins. The game would continue as we kept shooting until we missed! Once we missed, we let our doogie remain where it stopped, hoping no one would pick it off for himself, and waited until everyone had a turn before it was ours again.
I remember keeping my marbles in an old tobacco sack. In those days, loose tobacco came in a small sack, or pouch with a pull string top that closed. The tobacco would be opened by the smoker, who rolled his own. One of his hands would hold the thin cigarette paper, forming a trough, into which he poured a small amount of tobacco from his sack.. Once he had the right amount poured into the paper trough, he would hold one string in his other hand and lift the sack to his mouth, biting down on the other string. As he pulled the string, the sack would close. Tobacco sacks made great marble sacks! Some kids had a small leather pouch to keep their marbles in. Those were very cool! We never carried all of our marbles around with us, just about enough to fill a tea cup, or so; and just enough to show the kids we COULD win once in a while!
When the game ended, our hope was that we walked away with more marbles than we brought with us! Trading marbles was also good. If my sack was running low, I could always pull out my favorite marble; that especially unusual marble and start the trading! If not…….well, tomorrow was another day; another chance to win!
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Saturday, December 27, 2008
The Thomas Family
Pioneers.
For those of you who know us, our family heritage, apparently, goes back to the early days of the 1880's, where Mule Skinners, Buffalo Hunters and Farmers were common folk. Life was not easy in the 1800's! We rose and slept with the Sun; educated our younguns
at home; raised our own food and put away enough to get us by during the winter snows. Our womenfolk had long days making do with what they had. What with washing clothes in a hot pot on a wood fire and scrubbing them on a common rub board; the rinse cycle did not involve a machine, but a fresh batch of water and a lot of elbow grease. Preserving and canning food was endless; fixing meals on a wood stove and in the iron pot inside the fireplace lasted all day, with cleaning up way lasting after dark.
The menfolk were busy tending the livestock and farm animals that supplied us with eggs, milk and meat. The Pig was slaughtered in the Fall and prepared as Ham, Bacon, Sausage and other ways, hung up and smoked in the Smoke House to cure, or as Salt Pork for the breakfast table. Most of our meat came from the woods. There was no such thing as Deer Season in the 1880's as we killed to eat, not for sport! The Good Lord provided for us in season. Nothing was wasted as we kept our dogs and cats fed, too. From Blackbird Pie to fried Venison to Catfish, we took what we needed.
The Buffalo were becoming more scarce and trapping was hard. It was hard work but the sale of hides was needed to earn the money to buy flour and sugar and salt and such. Seed potatoes was not cheap but we had to have 'em. My family's favorite was in the Fall we made Sorghum Molasses. The neighbors from miles around would gather at the old Likens place and worked 'til it was done. Everbody took some home; we sold the rest 'ceptin what we kept for ourslelves. Mom would bake up a big pan of biscuits and when they was was done and hot out of the oven........why, there was nothing tastier than opening up one of those big hot biscuits, laying on a generous chunk of homemade butter and drowning it with that golden Sorghum! The kids loved that stuff! It satisfied the sweet tooth, thats for sure!
We didn't have much trouble with Indians in the 1880's. They kept pretty much to themselves and worked hard to make a living like everbody else. Why, most of us had quite a bit of Indian blood in us anyway. My woman still carries a card that gives her rights to Indian help. My side never signed up on the Indian Rolls because of the "shame" of it in the early days
, but my granma's mom walked the Trail of Tears. That was a bad time for our Nation. We were overpowered and out-numbered by Europeans who wanted our land. We were hunted down and killed or herded up like cattle and sent off to unwanted lands to try to live. Our old and our children died in great numbers. It was a bad time for us. Our kinfolk was taken in marriage by kind and unkind alike. Our children were sold or taken by those stronger than us. WE were the ones called barbarians, can you believe it?
Not all stories have unhappy endings. We worked hard at trying to be like the other white men so we would fit in. My Aunt's family used to tell tolks they was Black Dutch, just so they wouldn't be treated like Indians, even though they was. All we want to do is just to be left alone. With so much white blood in us now, we don't look much like Indians. Sometimes we ain't too sure what we are! But one thing is for sure.....my kids are growing up and need to eat. I taught 'em what they need to know to live. They can blow the brains out of a wild Turkey at 200 feet! That comes in mighty handy for dinner!
Pioneers.
For those of you who know us, our family heritage, apparently, goes back to the early days of the 1880's, where Mule Skinners, Buffalo Hunters and Farmers were common folk. Life was not easy in the 1800's! We rose and slept with the Sun; educated our younguns
at home; raised our own food and put away enough to get us by during the winter snows. Our womenfolk had long days making do with what they had. What with washing clothes in a hot pot on a wood fire and scrubbing them on a common rub board; the rinse cycle did not involve a machine, but a fresh batch of water and a lot of elbow grease. Preserving and canning food was endless; fixing meals on a wood stove and in the iron pot inside the fireplace lasted all day, with cleaning up way lasting after dark.The menfolk were busy tending the livestock and farm animals that supplied us with eggs, milk and meat. The Pig was slaughtered in the Fall and prepared as Ham, Bacon, Sausage and other ways, hung up and smoked in the Smoke House to cure, or as Salt Pork for the breakfast table. Most of our meat came from the woods. There was no such thing as Deer Season in the 1880's as we killed to eat, not for sport! The Good Lord provided for us in season. Nothing was wasted as we kept our dogs and cats fed, too. From Blackbird Pie to fried Venison to Catfish, we took what we needed.
The Buffalo were becoming more scarce and trapping was hard. It was hard work but the sale of hides was needed to earn the money to buy flour and sugar and salt and such. Seed potatoes was not cheap but we had to have 'em. My family's favorite was in the Fall we made Sorghum Molasses. The neighbors from miles around would gather at the old Likens place and worked 'til it was done. Everbody took some home; we sold the rest 'ceptin what we kept for ourslelves. Mom would bake up a big pan of biscuits and when they was was done and hot out of the oven........why, there was nothing tastier than opening up one of those big hot biscuits, laying on a generous chunk of homemade butter and drowning it with that golden Sorghum! The kids loved that stuff! It satisfied the sweet tooth, thats for sure!
We didn't have much trouble with Indians in the 1880's. They kept pretty much to themselves and worked hard to make a living like everbody else. Why, most of us had quite a bit of Indian blood in us anyway. My woman still carries a card that gives her rights to Indian help. My side never signed up on the Indian Rolls because of the "shame" of it in the early days
, but my granma's mom walked the Trail of Tears. That was a bad time for our Nation. We were overpowered and out-numbered by Europeans who wanted our land. We were hunted down and killed or herded up like cattle and sent off to unwanted lands to try to live. Our old and our children died in great numbers. It was a bad time for us. Our kinfolk was taken in marriage by kind and unkind alike. Our children were sold or taken by those stronger than us. WE were the ones called barbarians, can you believe it?Not all stories have unhappy endings. We worked hard at trying to be like the other white men so we would fit in. My Aunt's family used to tell tolks they was Black Dutch, just so they wouldn't be treated like Indians, even though they was. All we want to do is just to be left alone. With so much white blood in us now, we don't look much like Indians. Sometimes we ain't too sure what we are! But one thing is for sure.....my kids are growing up and need to eat. I taught 'em what they need to know to live. They can blow the brains out of a wild Turkey at 200 feet! That comes in mighty handy for dinner!
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Happy New Year
Even though this has been a roller-coaster year for our family, we want to share with you some of its highlights. It seems like we always end our year with a longing to have spent more time with so many of you than we did. Each year flies by so quickly! Where does the time go??
Eric has been enjoying the year working for Kodak. He is a photographer, in Branson, Missouri at Silver Dollar City. Go and have your picture taken with some saloon girls! He also works part time as a waiter in a local Mexican restaurant. Stop in sometime and give him a nice, fat TIP!
Matt lives in Oklahoma City and works for a promotions company called Red House, http://www.thisisred.com, and also for a company that matches employers with potential employees, http://www.talentmax.net, as a “head hunter”. He just returned from taking a trip to Japan.
Teresa & Kevin still live here in Portland, not far from us. They are doing okay…could be better… but okay. Kevin works for the school district and Teresa does part time work cleaning houses. Emily, 16, is, and has been a run-a-way for quite some time. She dropped off her baby girl for mom and dad to take care of (more about that sweet girl in a minute). Thank you for your prayers for Aaron. He is now in his 3rd year of Chemo treatments. Although they are hard on him, he is doing quite well. He’s making mostly “A’s” in school and stays in shape by riding his new bike and bench-pressing his Tuba!
Evan is Evan. He is a busy boy! He loves video games and cutting up. He’s a bit hyper but he’s a good boy!
Melody Rose came into this world March 12th. She is a wonderful baby! We totally adore her! She is just now starting to crawl….well, mostly “scoot”. It won’t be long before she’s walking. I am her Great-Papa but Debby is still just “Grammy”, as she is in “D-Nile” about the “Great” part.
Debby is still the greatest teacher at Columbia Christian School. She really is! Her class is full….it usually is. Parents love to have their kids there for Deb to teach.
I just took on a new job as HVAC Service Manager with another company. I have been very pleased with it so far. My job is to build up the service department with work and manpower. I’m excited about it.
We didn’t take any stupendous vacations this year, but doing vacation planning for next year, perhaps to China. Debby & Ami took an educational trip to class Denver this summer. Debby also went to a class in Houston, Texas. I flew down to meet her and we spent some wonderful time with our friends, Bill & Debbie. I also took a group of 12, mostly Teens, from our church, into the Wallowa Mountains in August for a big backpacking adventure.
Our Grandson-of-the-heart, Dawson, is growing so fast! He’s 4 already! We just went with him and his family on a POLAR EXPRESS train trip in Hood River, Oregon. It was fun!
Natasha, our Daughter-of-the-heart, is in her last year of school at Cascade College. She “walks” in May. We are excited for her! She has been a great addition to our home these past 3-1/2 years.
Many more things have happened but that’s a taste of who we are.
May the joys of the Christmas holidays be yours to enjoy this year. We realize many families are fragmented and some are going through some hard financial times. The really important things, however, are free whether you are rich or poor, sick or healthy. THOSE are the things we wish for you!
Perhaps our paths will cross this next year. We can HOPE!
Happy New Year!
Even though this has been a roller-coaster year for our family, we want to share with you some of its highlights. It seems like we always end our year with a longing to have spent more time with so many of you than we did. Each year flies by so quickly! Where does the time go??
Eric has been enjoying the year working for Kodak. He is a photographer, in Branson, Missouri at Silver Dollar City. Go and have your picture taken with some saloon girls! He also works part time as a waiter in a local Mexican restaurant. Stop in sometime and give him a nice, fat TIP!
Matt lives in Oklahoma City and works for a promotions company called Red House, http://www.thisisred.com, and also for a company that matches employers with potential employees, http://www.talentmax.net, as a “head hunter”. He just returned from taking a trip to Japan.
Teresa & Kevin still live here in Portland, not far from us. They are doing okay…could be better… but okay. Kevin works for the school district and Teresa does part time work cleaning houses. Emily, 16, is, and has been a run-a-way for quite some time. She dropped off her baby girl for mom and dad to take care of (more about that sweet girl in a minute). Thank you for your prayers for Aaron. He is now in his 3rd year of Chemo treatments. Although they are hard on him, he is doing quite well. He’s making mostly “A’s” in school and stays in shape by riding his new bike and bench-pressing his Tuba!
Evan is Evan. He is a busy boy! He loves video games and cutting up. He’s a bit hyper but he’s a good boy!
Melody Rose came into this world March 12th. She is a wonderful baby! We totally adore her! She is just now starting to crawl….well, mostly “scoot”. It won’t be long before she’s walking. I am her Great-Papa but Debby is still just “Grammy”, as she is in “D-Nile” about the “Great” part.
Debby is still the greatest teacher at Columbia Christian School. She really is! Her class is full….it usually is. Parents love to have their kids there for Deb to teach.
I just took on a new job as HVAC Service Manager with another company. I have been very pleased with it so far. My job is to build up the service department with work and manpower. I’m excited about it.
We didn’t take any stupendous vacations this year, but doing vacation planning for next year, perhaps to China. Debby & Ami took an educational trip to class Denver this summer. Debby also went to a class in Houston, Texas. I flew down to meet her and we spent some wonderful time with our friends, Bill & Debbie. I also took a group of 12, mostly Teens, from our church, into the Wallowa Mountains in August for a big backpacking adventure.
Our Grandson-of-the-heart, Dawson, is growing so fast! He’s 4 already! We just went with him and his family on a POLAR EXPRESS train trip in Hood River, Oregon. It was fun!
Natasha, our Daughter-of-the-heart, is in her last year of school at Cascade College. She “walks” in May. We are excited for her! She has been a great addition to our home these past 3-1/2 years.
Many more things have happened but that’s a taste of who we are.
May the joys of the Christmas holidays be yours to enjoy this year. We realize many families are fragmented and some are going through some hard financial times. The really important things, however, are free whether you are rich or poor, sick or healthy. THOSE are the things we wish for you!
Perhaps our paths will cross this next year. We can HOPE!
Happy New Year!
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Thanksgiving
is my favorite HOLIDAY!
I can remember back a very long way!
The holiday that stands out in my memories the most,
is Christmas (of course!!).
As I have matured beyond Christmas stuff, as when I was a kid,
I have come to understand that THANKSGIVING is my favorit-est one of all.
Since I can remember, the whole house was filled with amazing smells of cooking.
The Turkey was always HUGE! The table was spread with the most delicious things imaginable! Home-made golden brown, extra puffy, hot rolls just waiting for a generous pat of home-made butter and jam; perfect dressing made from day old corn bread, green beans, sweet corn off the cob, red jello filled with fruit and nuts (always a crowd pleaser);
Cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes and gravy; and home made pies……lots of pies!
There was always much more food….too much to list and too much to eat! Nevertheless, we ate and gorged ourselves like there was no tomorrow! Not much has changed in that department. Sure, I can’t eat ALL that I would like, but I get plenty! The smell of THANKSGIVING will be forever etched in my memories. Every year those smells come alive on Thanksgiving Day!
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day. The house will be filled with those memory-making smells again! We have a HUGE Turkey that I will be preparing in the morning. We have my daughter’s family coming over, bringing my sweet Great Grandbaby Girl so her Great-Papa can hold her. All in all, we are feeding about 20 tomorrow afternoon! It will be fun! We are excited! You know, the next best thing to eating all those delicious foods is anticipating the SMELL!
Happy Thanksgiving to all of you, especially you whom I love!
is my favorite HOLIDAY!
I can remember back a very long way!
The holiday that stands out in my memories the most,
is Christmas (of course!!).
As I have matured beyond Christmas stuff, as when I was a kid,
I have come to understand that THANKSGIVING is my favorit-est one of all.
Since I can remember, the whole house was filled with amazing smells of cooking.
The Turkey was always HUGE! The table was spread with the most delicious things imaginable! Home-made golden brown, extra puffy, hot rolls just waiting for a generous pat of home-made butter and jam; perfect dressing made from day old corn bread, green beans, sweet corn off the cob, red jello filled with fruit and nuts (always a crowd pleaser);
Cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes and gravy; and home made pies……lots of pies!
There was always much more food….too much to list and too much to eat! Nevertheless, we ate and gorged ourselves like there was no tomorrow! Not much has changed in that department. Sure, I can’t eat ALL that I would like, but I get plenty! The smell of THANKSGIVING will be forever etched in my memories. Every year those smells come alive on Thanksgiving Day!
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day. The house will be filled with those memory-making smells again! We have a HUGE Turkey that I will be preparing in the morning. We have my daughter’s family coming over, bringing my sweet Great Grandbaby Girl so her Great-Papa can hold her. All in all, we are feeding about 20 tomorrow afternoon! It will be fun! We are excited! You know, the next best thing to eating all those delicious foods is anticipating the SMELL!
Happy Thanksgiving to all of you, especially you whom I love!
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Monday, November 10, 2008
THE OLD FARM HOUSE…..is a lot like people.
We spend our lifetime growing old from birth to death. We change so much that our childhood friends don’t even recognize us anymore. Why, we could actually rub shoulders on the street somewhere and never know “who the stranger was”. We spend our life failing to take care of ourselves, letting our body “go”, thinking we are invincible, or something. We fail to do much maintenance like eating healthy foods or exercising. We grow thin on the top and thick in the middle.
The old farm house is much the same. We “let it go” and do the minimum. We don’t know the meaning of the word “maintenance”. Like our body, we fix it if it needs fixin’ and “don’t fix it if it ain’t broke”! It begins to show major signs of wear and tear. Like us, it begins to sag in places where we rather it wouldn’t. Like us, any old barn looks better with a new coat of paint. But we don’t ever get around to doing much more than that.As we give up and desert the old place, the deterioration really sets in, then! Next thing we know, it falls apart and just can’t be fixed anymore! Then we are either buried or cremated. In this life, that’s all that’s left!
The old farm house where we grew up isn’t standing anymore.
As kids, we spent a lot of time there running in and out of that old screen door, climbing the trees and playing “Annie Over”. It’s quiet around there now. The kids have grown up and gone away; the house fell in and apart from lack of use and upkeep. Only the memories remain.Mom nearly worked herself to death keeping things alive. There was always wood to chop to be used for cooking and heating the house. Later, when we "modernized", Propane brought a whole new way of cooking!
We had a fireplace on each end of the old house, with a roaring fire to try to keep warm by. We had 360 acres of trees that we could cut, split and stack cords of firewood.
There was always water to boil for 6 kids to take baths in and to wash the laundry. That old ringer washer still sets outside in this picture.There are many good memories in that old farm. Life was much simpler then. As we moved on and sold the old homestead, we still go back into our memories and pull out the good times we remember, growing up in Northwest Arkansas.
The really only good thing about “the good ‘ol days” is that they are good and gone!
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
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