February '23 Book List

Nine books this month. I've finished reading my way through all the Baldacci's and Lisa Gardner's until new titles for those two authors come out.

The Christmas Train by David Baldacci is a departure from his usual fare - still a mystery, but less mayhem.

Smoky Smith - The Legendary Life of Iowa's "Mr. Country Music" by Terry Manley is a book a read because a) I decided it was time to read a biography and b) as soon as I saw the title I thought, "Now there is a name I can connect to." I *really* think I saw him perform in Des Moines once or twice, but I don't have any specific memories of where or when. He did perform with Maurie Goode and the Country Gentlemen some so maybe that is where I saw him. 

The Killing Hour, Gone and Say Goodbye all by Lisa Gardner.

Nothing Ventured by Jeffrey Archer is just the first book I will be reading by this 'new to me' English author.

One Summer is the last David Baldacci for me until I get my turn for his latest book. He's a popular author at my library.

Takes One To Know One by Susan Isaacs is also the last book left for me to read by this author. 

When You See Me by Lisa Gardner was also the last unread book for me by this author.

Obviously, it's time to find a few more good authors, preferably some who have already published a number of books. 

Before February Slips Out - A Little Poetry

Paiute Late Winter Song 

Loud are the thunder drums in the tents of the mountains

Oh long, long

Have we eaten chia seeds

and dried deer's flesh of the summer killing.

We are tired of our huts

and the smoky smell of our clothing.

We are sick for the desire of the sun

And the grass on the mountain.

(This poem chosen because we had thunder here last night, not close and sharp, but loud enough. And rain. It was still raining when I got up this morning.)

A Calendar of Sonnet's: February

Still lie the sheltering snows, undimmed and white;

And reigns the winter's pregnant silence still;

No sign of spring, save that the catkins fill,

And willow sterns grow daily red and bright.

These are days when ancients held a rite

Of expiation for the old year's ill,

And prayer to purify the new year's will.

(By Helen Hunt Jackson, one of my favorite authors.)

And lastly, because today is the anniversary of his birth --

Afternoon In February By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)

The day is ending, 

The night is descending;

The marsh is frozen,

The river dead.

Through clouds like ashes

The red sun flashes

On village windows

That glimmer red.

Soon spring will be here. The peepers will be calling and violets will be blooming.  And I will be grateful for my 79th spring. And who knows what else? All the wild weather fluctuations have me wondering what we may be in for next. 

The sunset photo is one I took Saturday evening. It was the clouds. 

Belated Second Birthday Party

 

It's the photos that are belated, not the party. Friends and family gathered to celebrate great-grandson Louis' 2nd birthday last Saturday on his birth day, the 18th. It was held at the Des Moines Children's Museum.

We had a private room for the cake, gifts, lunch, etc., but the museum was open for all of us to explore. At first I questioned the use of the word 'museum' because it was just one huge area of toys and playthings and total bedlam with all the little ones running around. Then I realized it is a museum - where so many child friendly activities and teaching moments have been curated.

So here are some random photos from the party.

I call this one "Find a Friend". The little girl was already in the cart. Louis joined her. She didn't seem to mind too much. 

Fireman Louis.

My daughter-in-law, Shalea, with her grandsons Louis and Greyson and cousin Brynley.

Ayden and great-grandpa Bud. He is the most loving little boy. He always runs to greet us with a hug everytime we see him. 

Great-granddaughter Brynley giving me one of her cheer leader poses.

Her mother and Louis' mom are first cousins.

Louis' aunt Deise when she found the dill pickles.

 First cousins, Greyson and Louis eating lunch.

Louis opening his gift from the great-grands. I can't afford to give my greats much. It's always a card in the mail with a five dollar bill. But if we go to their party I try to give them a little present in addition to the card and money. It is usually a book, but for Louis, on this day, it was a package of puzzles. 

I don't know if his parents will appreciate them. When my kids were little it seemed like I was constantly picking up puzzle pieces. 

Probably my favorite pic of the day - me and the birthday boy. I'm still blown over by the fact that his parent's named him Louis - which was my dad's name. 

Hubby Dearest wanted his photo taken with this mail box. He is always giving our mailman a bad time and wanted to give him a copy of the photo. 😄

It was a wonderful, memorable day, but great-grandma came home totally wiped out. It is fun, but tiring, trying to keep up with those little ones.

Sign above a doorway at the children's museum. I'm so very grateful to have all this day's moments among my memories. 💗

33 Hours Without Water

In the "you don't appreciate what you have until you don't have it" category all I can say is HOW TRUE! From the time I got up yesterday morning at 5:00 and realized we didn't have any water until 2:00 this afternoon felt a lot longer than thirty-three hours. 

HD was sure it had to be frozen pipes while I was imagining the worst possible scenario - like the yard was going to have to be dug up because it was the line from the main to our house - it was going to cost a small fortune - they'd have to break up the cement patio to get to it - etc., etc. etc. 

And my reasoning that it wasn't just frozen pipes? In the fourteen winters we've lived here the only times we've had a pipe freeze was the one to the stool in the master bath and a few minutes with a hair dryer had it thawed out. But all the pipes? When it wasn't even below zero? Never.

I went to Wally and bought four gallon jugs of water and another case of 24 bottles to add to the case and half we already had while Bud hauled a five gallon bucket of water from the club house at least four or five times so we could flush the stools. And, of course, we tried to get a hold of a plumber. Not one answered their phone or called back when we left a message. 

So after lunch HD borrowed a forced air propane heater and an hour and a half later we had WATER. Oh, how wonderful! It seemed a lot longer than a day and half. Two showers, a sink of dirty dishes and a load of laundry later, we feel human again. The time without water is already dimming. But I swear I won't take turning on the tap for granted again! 💧😌

Addendum: Thank goodness I have a spouse to get me through times like these. I can't imagine being alone and facing even something like frozen pipes. 💞

A Valentine From Family Search

When I went to my Email account this morning I had a "Discover Your Ancestor's Marriage Event" message from my Family Search website. My first thought was, "Oh, cool, a Valentine's wedding". But when I opened it, I found that it was sent yesterday. So, an 'almost Valentine's wedding'. 

My great-grandparents, Bernard (Barney) Thomas Lynam and Nancy Emma Gravett were married 135 years ago, February 13, 1888 - a Monday. This family photo was most likely taken around 1899 because that little boy, my great-uncle Ralph Vincent Lynam (1895-1974), was born in 1895 and looks to be three to four years old. Others in the photo are my grandpa, George Albert Lynam (1891-1947), great-aunt Agnes Lulu Lynam Thomas (1888-1964) and great-uncle William James Lynam (1889-1960). 

Great-great Grandma Nancy was born in 1869 and died in 1914 - the same year as her father. She was only 45 years old. What I read about her death was that she had attended the funeral of a friend, went home and suffered a stroke and died three days later. 

Great-grandpa Barney was born December 16, 1863 and died September 20, 1919, at the age of 55. I found a copy his death certificate signed by G. H. Sumner, M.D. (a name I had never run across before) which, though barely legible, reads cause of death as "Cancer of Oesophagus". Again, something I didn't know. 

As long as I had her page open, I decided to look again at the Gravett family tree. I knew she came from a large family as I have this Gravett family photo. In 2010 when I wrote about them I said there were ten surviving children and five deceased. 

 I was wrong - they had seventeen children. Poor great-great-grandma Malinda Jane - pregnant or nursing from 1863 to 1900. The children were: William Ellis (1863-1934), John Wilson (1865-1916), Frank M. (1867-1911), Nancy Emma (1869-1914), Sylvester Crane Isaac (1871-1955), Roiena (1873-1879), Della (1873-1874), Mertilla (1874-1875), Kattie Rowena, (1875-1877), Stella (1878-1879), George Washington (1879-1951), Lulu Grace (1881-1958), Beulah (1881-Deceased), Elma Viola (1883-1973), Jeanette Mabel (1885-1940), Joseph Cecil (1887-1971), Kattie (1890-1890).

Great-great-grandpa George Washington was GWII, meaning the George Washington born in 1879 was GWIII. Jeanette's daughter-in-law, Bernadette, was the woman who gave me the Gravett family photo after her husband, Paul Hunt, died. I don't remember Lulu Grace, but I worked in the school library for her daughter, Ruth Wyatt, who was the highschool librarian. Uncle Joe, I did know and remember. I also remember seeing some of the graves of at least three of those little girls in the Findley Cemetery. (There's more about the Gravett's in my blog post of October 22, 2010.) I'm curious about Elma Viola, who lived until 1973. I don't remember ever hearing anything about her, but without a married name, I doubt I'll be able to trace her. But I'm going to try! 

I hope you are enjoying the day - Happy St. Valentine's Day! 💘

What Can Muscle Memory Help Us Do?

I've heard or read the term muscle memory several times lately and I have a fair idea of what it means. But for a precise definition it is: "A neurological process that allows you to remember certain motor skills and perform them without conscious effort." For instance what I am doing right now - touch typing - a skill I learned sixty-three years ago, although now it is referred to as keyboarding or just keying.

"When a movement is repeated over time, the brain creates a long-term muscle memory for that task, eventually allowing it to be performed with little or no conscious effort." 

"Skill retention from muscle memory can potentially last forever." Which leads me to this question:

If I were presented with a pony, a buggy and a harness, would I still be able to harness the horse, hitch it to the buggy and go for a ride? I haven't harnessed a horse since I was fourteen or fifteen years old - 65-ish years ago. I have very little memory of how to do so. But if I tried, would my muscle memory guide me through the process?

I don't expect to ever know the answer to that question. It's just something on my mind this morning. The photo of me with our horse Queenie was taken when I was around ten or eleven years old. Dad taught me how to harness the horse to the buggy by myself. I don't remember if Betty ever learned to do it alone, though I remember her helping me. Just looking at those reins and harness brings back some procedural memories. I almost believe I could still do it! 

Watching the Super Bowl Commercials

"People Are Saying Sarah MacLachlan's Super Bowl Ad for Busch Light Is a Masterpiece" was one of the first articles I noticed on my home page this morning. It used to be you had to wait for the actual airing of the game to see the touted commercials, now many are released early. 

I'm a big fan of Sarah MacLachlan's music so naturally I had to watch the :30 second ad. It is something of a spoof, a take off, of MacLachlan's ads for the ASPCA commercials which feature neglected animals in need of shelter; a home. Her song Angel plays in the background. And while I love the song I always mute those commercials. They are meant to play on your heartstrings, invoking sadness, and they do. I can't watch nor listen to them. 

From 1994 to 1999 there was a TV show I adored. It was Due South about a Canadian RCMP Constable attached to the Canadian Consulate in Chicago. Partly police drama and partly comedy, it was a weekly must see.

But what really caught my attention was the song playing during the introduction. It was so hauntingly beautiful. It took quite awhile before I discovered the singer was Sarah MacLachlan. Once I did, I bought her cassette, Fumbling Toward Ecstacy. On it was Possession, the theme song that had me captivated. 

I have several of her cassettes and CDs, but Possession remains my favorite tune. 

Possession

Listen as the wind blows from across the great divide
Voices trapped in yearning, memories trapped in time
The night is my companion, and solitude my guide
Would I spend forever here and not be satisfied?
And I would be the one
To hold you down
Kiss you so hard
I'll take your breath away
And after, I'd wipe away the tears
Just close your eyes dear
Through this world I've stumbled
So many times betrayed
Trying to find an honest word to find
The truth enslaved
Oh you speak to me in riddles
And you speak to me in rhymes
My body aches to breathe your breath
Your words keep me alive
And I would be the one
To hold you down
Kiss you so hard
I'll take your breath away
And after, I'd wipe away the tears
Just close your eyes dear
Into this night I wander
It's morning that I dread
Another day of knowing of
The path I fear to tread
Oh into the sea of waking dreams
I follow without pride
Nothing stands between us here
And I won't be denied
And I would be the one
To hold you down
Kiss you so hard
I'll take your breath away
And after, I'd wipe away the tears
Just close your eyes...

Three of my four NFL Divisional Playoff choices won but by the time it was down to the final four the only game I really cared about was the KC Chiefs against the Jacksonville Jaguars. That was intense, especially when Mahomes was injured. The Chiefs won the AFC championship and the Philidelphia Eagles won the NFC championship so it will be those two teams vying on Super Bowl Sunday. It's the Chiefies for me. Also, who cares about the Super Bowl commercials?

Hitchin' A Ride

 ♪ A thumb goes up; a car goes by; hitchin' a ride, hitchin' a ride, ride, ride, ride, hitchin' a ride. ♪

This isn't the first time Vanity Fare's 'Hitchin' A Ride' has been the early a.m. wake up song in my head. Between that and today's word of the day - fraught - as in 'fraught with danger' - it seems time to tell one of my highschool memories. 

Hitchhiking was not uncommon in the 1940's and 50's. I don't remember it, but Mom told me Dad used to hitchhike to town when the roads were impassable, a distance of five miles. He had to walk the first mile over to the highway before, hopefully, catching a ride.

My older brother also hitchhiked, but for girls it was a big no-no unless you knew and trusted the person who stopped and offered a ride.

My first two years of highschool, the bus route made me one of the last to get on which was great; I didn't have to get up early. The downside was the v-e-r-y l-o-n-g ride home in the afternoon. More kids rode the buses then. The daily ride was long and noisy and I often had a problem with headaches between the noise and the motion. The bus passed within a mile and a half of our place fairly early along the route. In nice weather I would ask the bus driver to be let off at the corner west of the farm. I don't remember if I had to have Mom give him permission to let me off there or if he just trusted that it was okay. 

I only did this in nice weather, of course, but it was such a relief to walk down the road in peace and quiet. There wasn't a lot of traffic along that stretch, but every once in awhile a neighbor would stop and offer me a ride which I would accept because that meant I could get home and get my chores done earlier and then start on homework before supper.

One afternoon an old black '49 Ford stopped. The guy asked if I wanted a ride. I recognized him but I didn't 'know' him. I had been told not to get into a car with anyone I didn't know and trust. So I said, "No, thanks. I'm almost home." He realized I was leery of him. He said, "I know your Dad, it's okay to get in." Then he said what his name was and that I knew who his son was. Yes, I knew his son even though he had graduated highschool and gone on to college - he was a star basketball player. Still, I didn't know enough about the driver to accept a ride. I kept refusing and he kept trying to convince me it was okay. It seemed like it took forever though it was probably only a few minutes, he finally realized I meant it and drove on.

I hadn't panicked even though I felt like it when he wouldn't take no for an answer. I was so relieved but it bothered me so much I didn't mention it to my parents. A few days later Dad told me the guy had seen him in town and with some amusement, told him about me not accepting a ride home. I felt as though my father was also a bit amused by it, but, hopefully, also a little proud of me. The following school year our bus route changed and my sister started highschool so there were two of us getting on the bus. No more lone walks home for me.

I think the fact that I still remember that day so vividly indicates how scared I was at the time. I may not have known first hand about any abductions but I had read about them.

My highschool sophomore picture. I felt a lot older than I look in this photo. Wise beyond my years?

Ride, ride, ride - no hitchin' a ride for me. 

Castor Beans, Castor Oil, Castoria?

Some mention of castor oil I read online a couple of days ago started me thinking about my childhood. Didn't my mom give us castor oil for some reason? I vaguely remembered a dark bottle of syrup with a red and white label. But nothing listed for the uses of castor oil seemed right. 

Then I found this vintage picture of Dr. Fletcher's Castoria. That was it and there on the box was what it was used for. Confirming what I remembered, it was a laxative. Oh how I hated taking it. It's been too many decades since then for me to remember the taste, but old ads say it had a prune flavor or anise. The new version says it has the flavor of root beer.

I probably gave castoria to my children if they needed it, but I don't recall their reaction to the flavor.

At some point during my gardening years I wanted to plant some castor beans as an ornamental. I had seen them in someone else's garden and thought they were very attractive. 

I believe it was when we lived in the little house and I think I had already obtained some seeds but my mom warned me about planting them if there were children around because the seeds were poisonous.

I didn't plant them, but I do remember having the seeds around for a long time, stored in a glass jar.

Which brings up a whole new 'jar of beans'. (Definitely a mash-up of idioms - can of worms, hill of beans.) How long do dried beans keep? My mom shelled and saved these for me, maybe even planted and raised them for me because I wanted to try black beans. That's her handwriting on the 'label'. She has been gone 19 years and quit gardening at least four or five years before that, so these beans have to be around 25 years old. They've been setting on a shelf in the garage since we moved here in 2008. One website tells me dried beans will remain edible for 25 to 30 years. One of these days, maybe today, I'm going to try cooking a few to see.

But before I do, I double checked what castor beans look like.

I wouldn't want to poison us. 😅

Walk The Way The Wind Blows

After the small steel windmill down by the pond rusted away and was removed, I thought, "Good. Now it won't be messing up my photos". Then they went and replaced it with this wooden one. It is more attractive and in a less obstructive place for my picture taking, but still...

Now I've decided I like it. I like being able to look out the window and know which way the wind is blowing - much like we did when living on the farm.

Earlier I took a picture of a deer standing still on the dam, looking into the distance with its nose raised. When I posted it I commented: "Checking to see which way the wind is blowing." So two prompts toward today's blog post.

After we bought our little bungalow on 4th Street in Valley Junction and got acquainted with the neighbors, I learned from one of the retirees about part time jobs with the West Des Moines Schools. Many of their buildings were used for evening adult classes, meeting spaces, etc. The district hired people to oversee the after school hours activities. I substituted in a couple different buildings a few times and then got hired to work at Rex Mathes elementary three nights a week. It was my job to be in the lobby answering questions like where to go for a certain class, etc. I was also to clean any spills or black shoe marks on the gym floor, etc. after people left. Most classes ended by 9:00p.m., but when the WDM City Council held open meetings in the auditorium, they might be there until 11:00! 

I had a very good full time, 8 to 5 job in downtown Des Moines, but I wanted to get some credit card debt paid off and Bud worked nights, so I had my evenings free. If I remember right, I had to be at the school by 5:30 or 5:45, not enough time to stop at home and get something to eat, but time enough to hit the drive-thru at Wendy's. Mmm, grilled chicken sandwich, fries and a coke. An excellent way to gain weight! 😉

Wednesday nights there were always catechism classes in several classrooms in the upper level and usually something going on in the gym, soccer practice, volleyball, etc. One night a week there was a ballroom dance class in there which I especially remember because before every class the instructor played a Kathy Mattea tape which was one of my favorites....

Walk The Way The Wind Blows

Up along the hallway
Down along the stairs
I can see the pictures
We've made down through the years
And it makes me blue, darlin'
Thinking of the past
And I'm truly sorry
I couldn't make it last

Walk the way the wind blows
Cry the tears, I've cried
Hopin' for you, darlin'
To be here by my side
I've gotta do some thinkin'
Of where to go from here
Walk the way the wind blows
Wipe away the tears

I remember darlin'
When you first came to me
All the air was sweet then
And all our time was free
But like the leaves that wither
Our hearts fell away
I think I'll just go out alone
And walk my blues away

Walk the way the wind blows
Cry the tears, I've cried
Hopin' for you, darlin'
To be here by my side
I've gotta do some thinkin'
Of where to go from here
Walk the way the wind blows
Wipe away the tears

(Song written by Tim O'Brien)

Unless some other tune comes along, this song will be in my head all day. And that's okay with me.