Now I have not thought of this man in forever!

  There is no picture of this guy.  Well there is one of him in overalls standing in front of an orphanage.  That was where he lived.  See, many years before he met my mother, my father was married and had 5 kids.  Two of them died of something called "Sand Pneumonia".  A boy and a girl.  Then his wife died.  My father put the remaining 3 sons in an orphanage. Earl was adopted by a family named Siefert.  Richard by a family named Nichols.  Gene was never adopted and eventually left the orphange and went into the Army.  Both he and Richard served in World War II.

 Earl went to work at the power plant in Hutchinson and eventually retired from there.  He had a lovely wife named Gertrude and we of course, called her "Gertie".  They had a daughter, Lorainne, and two sons named Leon and Leonard ( I think).  Earl was a part of our growing up years.  Richard moved to Nebraska and then to Denver.  He never really fit in with society.   He was never married and came to visit us on rare occasions. 

  But Gene!  William Eugene Bartholomew!  There was a character.  I first recall seeing him when I was 4 or 5 years old.  He had just gotten out of the Army and came to our house in Nickerson.  Then he disappeared for several years.  Then he appeared again.  Every time he came he went to the Arkansas River to stay alone for several days. Then, poof! he was gone again.  By the time I reached high school I found out why he was disappearing .  He had a wife.  He had a son.  He had a bad habit of writing checks on some one elses account.  And of course, law enforcement had a bad habit of locking him up! Around this time of my life 2 things happened.  Gene was locked up and the movie "Picnic" was made in our town.  I took my brownie camera my brother Jake had sent me from Germany and went to take pictures.   The assistant director took my camera and went and took pictures of Kim Novak and Bill Holden behind the scenes.  He took 7 or 8 pictures.  I was on cloud nine when those pictures were developed.  I had pictures of movie stars!  So I took my precious treasures and tucked them in an envelope and sent them to my dear brother, Gene, in care of the Lansing Prison there in Eastern Kansas.  He wrote me lots of letters, you know.  Wrote them in Calligraphy!  Practicing his craft, I guess.

  And for years after that I told people that I "used to have pictures of Kim Novak and  Bill Holden that were taken on my very own camera".  I never saw the pictures again.  I do not know where the negatives went.  I never saw my brother Gene after he got out of Lansing.  We did search for him, but the last anyone saw of him was when he was in jail in Nebraska for vagrancy and they let him out on the edge of town headed west.  Never a word after that.  Like he walked off into the sunset and poofed.  Earl and Richard have long since passed and I am sure Gene has also.  But I will let you in on a little secret.  Promise not to tell? 

  In that closet right over there not 12 feet away is a box.  And in it are my treasures.  I have my grandma's braid.  I have Bret's ponytail.  And I have letters from Gene Bartholomew to our father that were written by a 10 year old boy in an orphange.  In one he is so proud because they got new overalls.  And in one he pleads for his father to write.  Somewhere in this world is a man named Billy Bartholomew.  He may not be alive any longer, but I bet he has heirs that would like to read these letters.  I know I would like to talk  to him.  Isn't it strange how we hide little pieces of our past and never pull them out or think about them and then when we least expect it, we wake up and find our selves recalling so much of the past that we can not even put it all down on paper?  Life has a funny little way of catching up with us and bringing us to our knees.

  And that is where you will find me this morning.  I have lost so much in my life.  Friends, family, pets, memories....  I want something to hold on to.  If there is anyone out there who knows a Bartholomew let me know.  My father, Ruben Floyd Bartholomew was born in Hudson, Kansas and is buried near there now with his son and daughter.  And my brother Delbert Leroy Bartholomew.

So I was watching television tonight and I flashed on this....

I rarely watch television, but tonight after Jeopardy! was over I found myself watching one of those mindless sitcoms.  I do not remember what it was and I am sure it had nothing to do with my mind wandering back to Plevna, Kansas.  I went to live with my grandma Haas and Great Grandma Hatfield when I was 15 years old.  Grandma Haas had suffered a stroke at some point in time and was not able to get around very well.  She was only 72 at the time (as I recall).  Great Grandma was 99 and taking care of her.  It was getting to be a strain on her and I was young so I could be of some use to them.  It was a learning experience for the three of us. 

First thing I learned was that Great Grandma had been married 3 times or almost 3 times.  The first husband was Frank Miller.  He was father to her three children; Louis, Mabel and Josie.  Josie was my Grandma.  After he passed she married a man whose last name was Hatfield.  He had a son named Steven who had a wife named Bertie and a stepson and step daughter.  When he died Steven remained devoted to Great Grandma who he called mother.  When Great Grandma was 75 years old she became engaged to another man whose name I do not recall.  Sadly , he croaked before they could get the knot tied and Great Grandma just gave it up.  Said she had buried enough men and would not bury another one.  She then sold her house on the Main Street of Plevna, Kansas and moved in with Grandma.  Grandma had been widowed several years before.

In typical fashion they became quite adept at surviving alone.  By the time I arrived on the scene they were very ensconced in routine.  The table was set at night before bed.  We each had a plate, fork, knife, coffee cup, and half an orange.  This was covered with a cloth.  The coffee pot was a drip-a-lator which was filled with water ,  coffee grounds placed in the middle part, and the unit set on a pilot light on the stove.  The egg poacher was filled with water and set on the other pilot light.  The toaster was set on a back burner.  I should note here that toasters in that time period were used over a burner, not like today when they pop right up.  Had to be careful or you could char the bread very easily.  The next morning the coffee pot was pulled forward and the burner lit.  Same with the egg poacher.  Bread was put in the toaster and that burner lit.  In less than 7 minutes, during which time we ate our half an orange, breakfast was ready.  One slice of toast, one poached egg, and a cup of coffee with heavy cream.  Course there was home made jelly or jam and bread and butter pickles.  And don't forget the freshly churned butter.

After breakfast I was allowed to pile the dishes in the dish pan and cover them with a tea towel because I had to hurry off to school.  The way the dishes were done was this; When I got home from school, I would put the tea kettle on and heat water which I poured in the dish pan.  Then I refilled the tea kettle to heat the water to rinse them.  No hot water heater in this house.  Oh, and yes, we had an "out house" for our personal use.  Uncle Ray had installed a "commode" for Grandma's use, but we did not want to take the chance of wearing it out so we did our business outside.  Kind of nice one with a concrete floor and all.  When I came home at noon for lunch Great Grandma always had a sandwich waiting for me.  She also had the market report on the radio.  Not that we farmed, but old habits die hard.  Those dishes went in the pan with the breakfast dishes.

After dishes were done it was time to water plants and such.  We did not listen to the radio at night.  One of us would read from the Bible while the other 2 crocheted.  I learned the fine art of handiwork from my Great Grandmother.  She was one of the most beautiful women I have ever known.  I mean inside.  She was a very regal woman and she seemed very tall to me, but course I was only 5 feet so every body seemed tall.  Grandma and Aunt Mabel had married brothers.  Josie married Frank Haas and he was my Grandpa.  Aunt Mabel married his brother Gottlieb Haas.  Uncle Louis had cast eyes on the sister, Lena Haas, but Great Grandma put her foot down on that one.  So Uncle Lou married Aunt Eva  and Aunt Lena was a spinster her whole life.  But she was a fun old gal.  She was the one that kept a horse tank full of water for us to play in on hot days and took us to the stock pond seining for minnows with our skirts.  She died when she was 100 years old.  Haas  and Gagnebein blood is strong genes.  My Grandma was 73 when she died and that was so sad because she was so young.  Great Grandma Hatfield was 104.  Uncle Goll was 98.  Uncle Ray was 96. I am not sure, but there may be some of them still alive.  They just seem to live forever.

But what I was thinking of tonight was the piece of furniture that was behind the stove.  It was not a couch.  It was like a couch except it was oak and very dark brown leather.  It was not for comfort.  It was functional.  So was the library table.  And the Hoosier in the kitchen.  It held sugar, flour, had a top that pulled out and you could stand right there in one place and make a pie.  Now I have oak cupboards and shelves that slide out.  I have two freezers.  I have hot and cold running water.  I have all the conveniences that these two women did not even know existed.  It was a two story house.  The 2 Grandma's slept in the front bedroom.  I slept on the couch.  There were two bedrooms upstairs, but they were afraid to have me away from them.  Some times I resented that cause that was one lumpy damn couch.  But looking back, and believe me, hindsight is always clearer then fore sight, I was the most blessed 15 year old girl on the face of this earth, because those two women loved me.  They taught me needlework that has won me many ribbons at the State Fairs.  And they taught me that life goes on without a television, or radio, or trash novels.  The one book we do need is the Bible and I never touch my Bible without thinking of the two women in my life who instilled in me my love for the Book.  One was the Matriarch and the other the sweetest little lady I have ever known.  And in the picture there Great Grandma is holding Grandma up to have her picture taken.  that is something the women in my family have always done, been there to hold each other up.  I sure hope I do not disappoint my kids and sisters.  I am going to try not to.  

Bet you did not know this one!

http://www.secondchancewildlife.net/

  Ever wonder what happens to that cute little fox or baby deer or bird or racoon when it's mother was hit by a car and it was left beside the road all alone in this big cruel world?  You contact the Department of Wildlife or someone who is caring and compassionate might help you pick it up and take it "some where".  By picking it up and putting it in your car you have just broken a Colorado law.   Let me tell you where it is going to end up at.

  There is in this city a very lovely lady by the name of Nancy J. Kelly who will take it in and nurse it back to health and then turn it back into the wild.  And want to know how much she gets paid for this from the State of Colorado?  That is it!  Nada!  Zip! Zilch!  She does have to have a license to handle wildlife, but it is a volunteer position and as such is not a paid postition.  Oh, and the food the animals eat, the medications, the bedding, the paper towels, detergent, and the myriad of things they need to recuperate and grow with are all coming out of her pocket.  She does have a few friends, but you should know, she needs a lot more!

  Since 1992 Nancy has done this all by herself, but as people and animals interact more there is more injuries and more need for Nancy and her friends.  I know there are times when wild animals are a definite pain in the butt.  See, I had 36 ducks out back along with 6 geese.  Over the past two years I have lost all the ducks and I know exactly where they went.  The fox had a den about 25 feet from my duck pen and she also had 4 or 5 babies.  Baby foxes got to eat and I watched my flock dwindle a duck at a time until I was down to 2.  Those two got relocated to Pueblo West to the big pond out there, I think.  Hope no one tells on me.  If they do, you should know I am old and borderline senile!

  I put you a link on up there so you can go read all about Nancy and her good works.  Two more things you should know.. Albertson's donates a portion of sales to Second Chance Wildlife if you have the bar code.  I am sure she will send you one.  But failing in that here are the numbers off it and I am sure the clerk will punch them in for you!   4  9001020490  9

  Now, the second thing is she is holding a Walk for Hope at the Nature and Raptor Center of Pueblo on Saturday, September 17, 2011.  I fully intend to be there and hope to see you.  If you don't or can't make it I am sure taking donations.  I can take money through paypal or a check or meet you somewhere.

  In the meantime, go check out this link and you will learn that I am a very lazy person and do all my work through links and such.  But hey!  Life is short!  Sing like no one hears!  Dance like no one sees!  And love some thing or someone every day.  It will keep you young!

Here is the television shop in Wales.

View all

Get your own

This is run by friends of Alex Campbell who lives in Wales.  He is a friend I met online.  Nice guy.  Wait!  That should be ...Nice guy?
Melanie runs this shop with her husband.  Since this is my first International interview, I am doing it the lazy way.  Above is a slide show that shows both the shop and the area around where they live.  I think that it would be lots of fun to be that near a large body of water.  Alex says this is the bay or something like that.  I can not remember everything!

So anyway, I asked her questions and she sent me answers.  To clarify who is who I will be the blue words and she can be the black words.  Black words carry more weight then blue words.  ;)

Hi Melanie,

Alex sent me pictures of your little shop.  He said I should talk to you about the blog.  Some people do read it and I will give you the link when I do yours and you can send it to your friends.  That will help us both.  I think if you poke your reply button, and then make your font a different color you will be able to answer the question in the space following it.  That should make it really easy to see and I can actually cut and paste the interview.  Maybe.  What i would like to know is:
How long have you had your store?We have been running it as a family for 10 years
My Dad took it over for 2 years but then he retired so its been mine and my husbands for 8 years.

How many square feet?Ohhhhh im not sure, LOL
Weve got a Shop, Office & Repair Workshop on the ground floor.
We live in the three bedroom flat above
Nice big 3 Storey building, great for partys, LOL

Where is it located?Barry the biggest town in Wales, UK
Were at 23 Thompson Street, Barry, CF63 4JL
Just off the main high street
Barry Island our beach area has been a popular holiday spot for over 100 years
The BBC made a TV Sitcom called  "Gavin & Stacey" about 2 familys and the town which made it more famous recently

Those appear to be transistor products.  Are they?We sell new Radios
The main brands we do are Roberts & Pure
There are a few old original 1960 / 1970 Roberts radios on display to show how reliable they are, not for sale though, my mini museum, LOL

My husband does Tv Installs, tuning and some simple repairs.
But we have a fully trained engineer that comes in twice a week to repair TV & Hifi & Radio

We also have engineers that install Satellites & Aerials

Where do you get them?We deal direct with some manufacturers or their wholesalers

Do you have a web address or how can some one like me be  able to purchase from you?Brian my husband is building our web site at the moment.
Were on Facebook if you search for Television Shop you will find us

This should hold me for a little bit, but be aware I am pretty nosey!  LOLThats OK so am I, LOL

X Melanie

Louhttp://www.loumercerwordsofwisdom.blogspot.com/

So that concluded the interview.  I find this just fascinating that I now know someone who lives in Wales, the United Kingdom.  I will probably bring you word of Melanie and Brian from time to time as we are now friends on facebook.

Just thought you might get a kick out of this!

Now you can finally meet the sister!

N

Do you remember this time last year when I went to Kansas?  Well, I think that was in July and I got there just in time to see this little gal born.  This is my sister, Donna Bartholomew who along with Karen Leshure owns Skaets Steak Shop in Hutchinson, Kansas.  Has for years.  I started working there when I was 17 years old and then Donna came on board when Ruth Herrington took it over from Norman Deschene.  Damn!  That was a very long time ago.  At one time or another all the little Bartholomew girls had a go at working at Skaets.  Skaets is steaks spelled backwards.  Little side note there.

  There were 5 of us girls and one brother.  Jake was killed in 1965.  Josephine left us several years ago, leaving just the 4 of us to carry on.  I am the oldest, then Donna, then Mary and last is Dorothy.  Dorothy is the baby.  Dorothy had a heart attack many years back and actually died and was revived twice.  I will have to write about that some day.  So Donna had bought Skaets and ran it with the help of Tom and Mary Shea for several years.  I lose track of time, but I do know that at some point in time Tom died, leaving Mary alone.  Then along in there some where mother had passed.  And at some point in time Karen Leshure, a long time friend of the family, bought into the restaurant.  Karen had a very sharp business acumen  and has been the stabilizing hand on the tiller for many years.  Course they are always talking about how they are going to retire and travel and Donna wants me to get my passport because we are going some where far away.  Well, I am sure I am going to get right on that!

But this is not about Skaets, or travelling or any of that stuff, this is about that little waif there in Donna's arms.  Isn't that about the cutest thing you have ever seen?  Her name is Adrianna and I do hope I spelled that right.  She was born in July of last year and I will not get more precise then that for obvious reasons.  Her daddy is Donna's only son Tom.  He is a salesman for Sysco Foods.  And a very fine salesman he is!   Sysco sells to restaurants and other food industry's in the Midwest.  I know the Midwest, and maybe farther away than that.  

Her mother is Alina.  Now here is a true test.  Alina is from Russia and was world kick boxing champion over there a few years back.  I can not remember her last name, but I know it now.  It is Bartholomew.  She is a beautiful woman and the sweetest little thing.  Course we know Tom would only have the best.  I give this woman a lot of respect for more reasons than one.  First she deserves it and secondly she could kick the crap out of me very easily!

Donna dotes on this little ball of fluff and I am sure it is a mutual admiration society.  They also have 2 little Chihuahua dogs which are spoiled very rotten.  I am starting to get pretty lonely for Hutchinson and my family there.  But first I better tell you that when we were kids at home Donna and Mary were always very close.  Dorothy was the baby and she mostly just cried and got her way.  But Donna and Mary just kind of hung out together.  Those three mostly got babysat when mother went to work.  Not always Donna.  Some times she followed me around, but as I recall we spent a lot of time worrying that a dog with Hydrophobia would come up the road and attack us.  We also worried a lot about the Gypsies who were camped on the edge of town kidnapping us.  And a lot of time we went to the cemetary to play.  Please do not ask me to explain that one.  I was probably the ring leader on that.  Always liked the cemetary because it was quiet.

Man, have you  ever noticed how I digress?  I am trying to tell you about Donna and her grand daughter.  The top picture is at her birthday party.  I think she ended up with a lot of frosting on her.  And I bet Donna loved every minute of cleaning her up and putting some new pink clothes on her.  All I can say is momma and daddy do not stand a chance with Grandma Donna on duty.  I think I am a pretty good grandma and Dorothy is also a good grandma, but Donna is making a career out of the grandma thing!

That is not hard to do thought because the little babies are so pure and innocent and they smell so good when they come out of the bath water and we rub them with baby powder and all the sweet smelling stuff.  And when they fall asleep in our arms with the little pouty lips, we are goners!

So you go Donna, cause I have words that I remember from way back when I had my first baby.  These may not be accurate, but it is close ..."Cooking and cleaning can wait for the 'morrow, for babies grow up we learn to our sorrow.  So cobwebs you hang there and dust go to sleep.  I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep". 

And with that I bid you a fond goodnight and very quietly turn out the light.

 

 

 

 

 

Time to start thinking about The AIDS Walk in the Garden!

It is that time of year again.  That means time for the Annual Walk in the Garden to raise money for AIDS.  Everything our team raises comes right back to Pueblo. We were the third highest fundraisers last year and we are trying to beat that this year.   So far it is just the 3 of us again.  Deven is in school.  Bret and Amanda have other things to do, but they have promised to help me raise funds.  We will see.  For now it is just us three and aren't we a motley looking bunch?

 Here are the three boy cousins that walked with me last year.  Can not seem to wrench a committment out of them this year, but as you know, I am a wily and persistent she-devil so we will see!

These are the shoes I wore last year.  I plan on aucioning them off on eBay soon.  My wiccan friend keeps trying to throw them in the trash and I keep digging them out.  She does not understand!

Ok, I have to get back over on the site and send out some more emails begging for money.  This is one job I do not like, but it is a necessary part of the process.  We are doing social events with the money we raise and I want you to know that we have more client involvement here in our little burg than they do up North.

Here is the link in case you missed it.  Go see what SCAP is all about!

www.kintera.org/faf/r.asp?t=4&i=489730&u=489730-227465622

I'm just gonna run to the post office...

Now those words are an understatement if I ever made one!  To begin with, the closest post office I can run to is over a mile away.  It is a sub station and I gave up going there because they cringe when I show up with packages.  See, I buy my postage online.  It is cheaper.  Seems like enough incentive for me!  But the substation does not get to collect a "pick up fee" from the post office so it is a free gratis thing.  UPS pays the stations a $1 pick up fee.  Course when they sell the postage there is a profit built in to the price.  But not with the USPS. 

Now back to my packages I have so neatly packed and labeled with my online package.  I have padded them and made them as sturdy as possible to avoid breakage because I know they are going to be dropped at least 4 times by the post office and way more than that by FedEx or UPS.  UPS gives free insurance for the first $100. Post Office gives you jack. 

After I pack them, measure them and weigh them  I print out my postage and apply the label to the box.  I then need to drop my boxes some where.  They have the 13 ounce rule, you know.  That means I have to take it in and hand it to the clerk.  The clerk will ask me, "Any thing explosive, breakable, liquid or illegal in here?"  I always say "No" and then I am done.  I especially like waiting in a long line with heavy boxes for this ritual to take place.  Occasionally I will get a clerk that will motion me to put them in the canvas box on wheels and then he will smile at me and I will leave.  That does not happen very often.  More like it happened once.

Now, I want to go on record here as saying Homeland Security and all that is just great.  After I leave the post office I feel I have been thoroughly  processed and my packages do not carry bombs or any of that stuff.  I am on first name basis with most of the clerks around town.  But occasionally some little guy gets himself hired and his job description seems to contain the words "must be able to piss an old lady off and make her cry in frustration."  Yesterday I met one such fellow.  No doubt he was promoted to something before I got to my car.  He was good!

The upshot was my one box had the word "Ale" on it.  Ale is hazardous.  Course it was not ale since someone had already drank all of it and I am assuming it was not hazardous since he was still alive or at least I assume so since I did not read in the obituaries of anyone dieing directly after drink one bottle.  So I told him that apparently the word  "paint"ball on the other box made it hazardous as well.  He was in complete agreement.  So I drove the 10 miles home, unpacked the boxes after carefully cutting the label off with a razor blade, turned the boxes wrong side out, repacked them, taped on the labels and took them back to town to the one in Belmont where the lady likes me.  I told her my tale of woe and she said "He must have been having a very bad day!"  Hey, Janie, what do you think he did for my day?  She thought that was funny.  Never was a very good comedienne, but it worked with her.  May have missed my calling.

Now get this, a year or so ago I sent a seed catcher to my friend in Niagara  Falls.  Then he ordered two more.  He then decided to send the first one back and have the size of elastic changed.  So I put a box with a return postage label all printed out to me and enclosed it so he could return the first one.  He dropped it in the mail box to come to me.  Three days later, it was returned to him because he had not taken it inside the post office and they thought it was a bomb because it was over the 13 ounce limit.  So I had spent $4.95 for the label.  Now he had to spend another $4.95 for the new label.  But the most asinine part was that it had been in the mail system for 3 days being returned to him.  It was never opened and he bought a new label and put it over the old label with out anybody ever looking inside.  So this made the $10 seed catcher cost a total of $14.90 in postage for no reason what so ever. If there had been a bomb in the goofy thing it surely would have detonated shortly after being put in the box. Or at the very least some time during the next day or so.

Then there was the time the doorbell rang and there stood the man who lived up on Bronco with a soggy box in his hand.  Hmmm.  Lou Mercer, yep that is me.  Oh gee is that the MP3 player I have been expecting?  Only silly me, I was looking in the mailbox for it, not in the irrigation ditch where he found it.  Let's see, that was about the time they took another 2 cent raise on postage.  Very well deserved if I do say so myself. 

So, I set here and think about my United States Postal Service and shake my head in wonderment.  Seems like we had a pretty good thing going when the Pony Express was in action.  Grab a saddle bag and ride like hell!

Back to the going postal thing.  See, I know these guys get a big kick out of being mean to us little old ladies, but I think they are also mean to each other.  Maybe they have left their station and gone across town and been mistreated by someone in another station and they are just getting revenge.  Why doesn't the powers that be teach these people to smile?  I have always found that sugar catches a lot my flies then vinegar.

You know what the first thing I learned when I went out into the work force?  I learned something called Customer Service and the golden rule to that was that the customer was always right.  Know who paid my salary?  The customer.  If we did not have customers I did not have a job so i always wanted them to come back.  Not so at the post office.  Or as far as that goes most government jobs.  Stop and think for one minute about what we have done to ourselves.  We sent a bunch of guys to Washington to pass a bunch of laws to make our life easier.  Then they had to appoint a bunch of committees to oversee the laws and make sure they were working.  Then we had to have people to check on the committees to be sure the committees were doing there job.  So now, guess what!  Everyone but you and me is now working for the government.  No wonder the post office people are so mean. I am the only one not working for them and they are afraid I will quit paying my taxes, so they want to make me suicidal and hope I do not have a will so the government can take all I own and put it back into circulation.

I keep hearing that the postal service is in trouble.  You know, I do not doubt that.  Gone are the days when you wrote a note and put it in an envelope and mailed it off to someone in another city.  Now we have a cell phone in our pocket and a computer on standby and we can touch someone electronically in a nano second.  But here is what I want you to ponder, if you will; Has electronics and such brought about the downfall of the postal system, or are the cell phone and email a result of a postal service that did not serve our needs?  Ah, it is indeed a quandary.  Might be too much for this feeble mind to comprehend.

When Bret was little........

This is Bret now.  Or at least it was several months ago.  Just every time he comes or goes I remember when he was little.  That was the good old days.  That was when I actually mattered for something besides the occasional  $20 for gas request.  Bret had been a regular visitor in our home since his birth.  As the closest grand son he was also most frequent.  He used to say cute things, like "Grandma!  Let me in! I have too many hands."  "oh, it is such a 'boo-fi-ul' day".  I babysat him as he got older and potty trained the little fellow and taught him to ride a bike.  He would spend weeks at a time with us especially after his mom and dad separated and she remarried.  When he came up for adoption we were the obvious choice.

When Kenny quizzed him about who would be his grandpa if we adopted him, he thought about it for a while and then announced, "Why, I would be my own grandpa!"  And after the adoption he immediately began calling me "mom" and continued calling Kenny "grandpa".  Kenny finally had to explain to him that we had to both be "grandma and grandpa" or "mom and dad."  He opted for the mom and dad one.

His first official act when he came to live with us was to shave off his eyebrow along with the mole over that eye.  Second was to throw a fit in the Library that almost landed me in jail for child abuse when I grabbed his young self up and loaded him in the car and had Shelly and Chris set on him till we got home. They called it attachment disorder and testing the limits and a few other things.  I called it being a spoiled rotten little brat.

Like I said,  he was so cute.  I have pictures of him and the neighbor kid (also an adopted grandson) learning to crawl toward each other,  running naked through the sprinklers, playing "dogs".  They broke the windows in the garage, made a general mess of everything they touched, but they never went to school together.  Skeeter went to town school and Bret caught the bus.

Now school was a complete waste of time for this kid.  I spent more time at the school than he did.  He never turned in homework and there was never a teacher who seemed to think it mattered until the end of the grading period and there were no numbers in his columns.  In the Fourth  grade he made the merit roll.  You could of knocked me over with a feather!  First and only time he ever bothered with academia!  I put him in the Church School in town and he did some better, but once again I was at the school more than he was.  I actually bought the curriculum and got him through the Seventh grade here at home.  I know he studied that 3 months.  His teachers just loved him and he loved them.  It was the whole school thing. Even tried the online school.  Nothing.

So now here he is working at Sprinkles Sewing Center as a certified Technician.  Everybody loves him and he does a really good job, I think.  At least Jerry and Cathy say so.  Sprinkles just opened a shop in Canon City and he and Amanda have added responsibilities there.   Amanda is his girlfriend and she works there also.   They are getting ready to move into their own home.  So, I guess I am not a complete failure since he did survive childhood.  And I survived his childhood.  We lost Kenny when Bret was 12 so that was hard.  Big adjustment for both of us.

As I write this he is in the shower and has been for over 20 minutes.  I am going to have hot water again when he moves out!  That and the light bill is going to plummet.  They buy most of their own food so that is no biggie there.  They do not eat like I eat.  In all fairness, though, Amanda did tell me that she will start eating healthy when she turns 20 so there is hope.  They are taking the deep fat fryer when they move.   

So now you have met 5 of my 6 kids. 

Oh, and he just turned off the water, so all the hot must be gone!  Glad we got rid of that!

I am going to do my sisters next if they will let me.  Course you have already met and are very familiar with Mary.  That just leaves Donna and Dorothy.  I will ask them and let you know!

Do they still have country roads?

I remember when I was a little kid running the country roads back home.  We would start out early and decide to "go some place."  There was Vincent's Sand Pit.  Old and abandoned and I do not know how far from the house, but that did not matter.  I was always barefoot.  We got shoes in the fall when school started and we better not wear them out, lose them, or grow out of them or we finished the year barefooted.  That was fine by me, but the kids in town did rather turn their noses up at this litle ragamuffin.  But, I get the last laugh.  I am still setting here barefooted and damn glad of it.
Mama always went off early to clean some lady's house in town so we were pretty much on our own.  Course the really little kids were babysat by the lady up the street who charged 50 cents a day.  But us "big kids" were pretty much on our own.  Now that I think back, I do not remember eating.  I am sure we must have , but who knows what!  I am still here so I am sure we did eat.  Wish mama was here and I could ask her.

So there was my brother and I, the two Reinke girls, Jimmy Davis from in town, Margaret Ayers and her brother Hibbly.  That seems right.  Oh, and my older sister who was supposed to be the one with the brains.  Now, at the time it was great fun.  Running down a dusty, sandy road in the hot noon day sun to get to a muddy pond of water that we were not allowed to cross the fence to get near.  Besides that there were big, very mean cows in there guarding it.  Then we could turn around and run back home.

Home was fun.  One day Jake and I decided to dig us an underground hide out.  We dug and dug and finally had us a suitable tunnel about 10 feet long, two feet wide and three feet deep. We then placed the boards across it and piled the dirt back on top.  Oh, that was great when we crawled in there.  It was all cool and dark.  Dark.  I got my young self right back out of there because I am scared of the dark.

Near the tunnel and across the fence the neighbors had a big tree and under it was our "cemetary".  In the country there are a lot of natural deaths of birds and rabbits and as a tender hearted  young girl these deaths needed to be attended and a proper burial was always in order.  Hence the cemetary.  Now these same neighbors raised pigs.  Really big pigs.  Very mean pigs.  The house where the pig lives is called a sty.  A sty is a short house, like a peaked roof that sets on the ground.  And as normal kids we liked to play a game called "I dare you!"  Now Jake knew I was scared to death of those pigs but he liked to dare me to jump from one sty to the next all the way across the pig pens.  It was probably a 3-4 foot leap, which was not far at all, but there was always that chance of slipping and falling into the pig pen where I would be eaten by the pigs.  As I look back, that was not the best game to play.

When it was dark we could play "Kick the Can."  Seems like I was always "It."  I had to cover my eyes and count to 50 while they all went and hid.  Then I had to go find them.  If I did find one I took that person back to the "base" and put them in a make believe "jail".  Some one would run in when my back was turned and kick the can and there went my prisoner, in the event I had actually found someone hiding. 

Another favorite game was "clod fights" which is exactly what the name implied.  Some one would plow the field, usually dad, and leave it "turned over" before a "harrow" was drug across it.  At any given point in the whole process, the dirt would dry, leaving clods.  And the longer they laid there the harder they got.  Getting the picture?  We would throw the clods at each other.  The most fun always seemed to be getting hit in the eye with a clod.  That way mama gave full attention to the injured party and the one who did it was really going to get a "licking."  Remember when our parents could give us a licking and not get slapped with child abuse charges? 

Ah, the "good old days!"  I remember going to school, but I do not ever remember studying.  I remember going to church and the most wonderful part was having a birthday, because then we got that many pennies to drop in the "Birthday Can" while everyone counted and then sang "Happy Birthday" to me.

Why is it as we get older, the past looks so much better?  I could spend all my time back in those carefree days.  We ate Bacon and used cream that was so thick it stood in peaks.  We ate what ever landed on the table and had no idea what a calorie or fat grams or sodium or any of that stuff was.  And I never weighed over 100 pounds until I was pregnant with my first baby.

I miss my mama.

In the hallowed halls of Washington.....

Now I do not usually get on a soap box here, but today is probably  going to be an exception.  As you all know, we have just come through another crisis.  Narrowly averted all of us old people being thrown out in the street because we did not get our social security checks.  Hey!  I am sorry I am such a burden to you idiots up there, but let me tell you how it works here at my house.

For many years both my late husband and myself punched a clock and collected a check with which we raised our children and sent them forth to do the same thing we did.  We knew how much money we had and we managed to keep a roof over our heads and food in our stomachs.  We had no deficit nor a debt ceiling we could move around.  We exhausted our borrowing power when we bought the house and the car and whatever else we needed.  But now that we are old and just want to kind of coast, we have a bunch of idiots in charge of the ship that are headed straight for the sand barge!  And to really add insult to injury , I am a supposed to be happy that they can now borrow more money.

I am sorry!  I had a step son once who came home all dejected from the bank where he had gone to borrow money for another car.  They turned him down because, while he had a stellar credit rating and unlimited borrowing power he had "no way to pay it back!"  And there in lies the key.  There is what our Congress is missing in the equation.  Sure we can borrow money, but how are we going to pay it back?  And when they start talking about a "super committee that can act alone" my heart leaps in my throat.  Congress already has more power than they should and now they want to appoint an elite group that even they can not control?  You see nothing wrong with this picture?

And now they are up there going around patting themselves on the back because they got together and passed a bill that they can borrow more money!  What am I missing here?  They are all proud because they are going to pass a bill that says they must have a balanced budget?  Where have I been? If my budget gets out of whack, I don't eat.  It is very simple.  But they want to throw my check out the window and let it bounce?  What about their checks?  What are we going to do with them?  Oh, reward them with a raise! 

You know I read about the survivalists that hole up in the mountains and do not even have to come to town to get bullets and I start eyeballing the Ford and wondering how quick I can get it to go up that hill!  I do it all like I am supposed to.   I read, I educate myself on the issues, I disregard party affiliation and vote my conscience.  I try to be honest and help the less fortunate.  I attend and support my church.  I listen and I talk.  And I live within my means.  Oh, there is one for the record books.  If I have it, I spend it.  If I run out, I find a way to earn more.  Or I simply do without!

Government!!  It is a bit early in the morning for me to start processing the drivel they want me to be fed.  So, here is the deal at my house and perhaps one or two of the government officials would like to come follow this old lady around.  First, I am going to fire up the lawn mower and mow my grass while it is cool.  That will save me paying someone else to do it. $20 back in my pocket.  Then I am going to list a bunch of stuff on ebay.  When it sells I will get a small percentage.  Sell $100 worth and after I pay my fees and such, there goes another $15 in my pocket.  Going to make some Gluten Free bread and brownies for a few friends who pay me to do that.  After I deduct the cost of my supplies, there goes another $15 into my pocket.  I will pull the weeds in the garden and toss them over the fence to my geese and save probably $2 on goose grain.  So today I will make $52 not by borrowing it, but by doing it myself.  Think the government could ever grasp this concept?  I start at 5 in the morning and quit at 9 at night.  That makes me a 16 hour day.  That figures to be $3.25 an hour.  Course I am free to come and go as I please and if it does not get done today, it will still be there tomorrow.   And the best part about earning money here at home?  I get to pay taxes on it!

Well, I must get my day started or I will not get my day done and I will be standing on the corner with my hand out.  I hope you all are as proud of that bunch we sent to Washington as I am.  ;)

Nostalgia? Damn good thing!

I happened to think back on 1959 when Buddy Holly, Richie Valens, and the Big Bopper were all killed in a plane crash.  I have to look up the date (February 3, 1959) but I know where I was when I heard the news.  Some things just work that way.  That was back in the day when Dick Clark held sway on the American Bandstand.  We had the sock hop every Saturday night at the Convention Hall and dreamed of going to to American Bandstand.  Talk about American Graffiti...we WERE American Graffiti!  I was "hanging out" with a guy named Johnny at the time.  See, I did not "date", but I loved to dance and for that I needed a regular partner and he filled the bill to a "t".  My kids would never believe some of the gyrations that went on at those dances, and most of them by their mother!

Johnny and I won more than one dance contest.  He occasionally dated and the girls were always jealous cause he always came back to me on dance nights.  They just could not understand that we were in sync and that was how that was.  I must pause here for a  moment to send Johnny on his way.  I do not know because I never saw him after high school, but I heard many years later that he was gay and had moved to California.  And then many years later, that he was one of the first to fall to the AIDS epidemic.  I think that info is accurate.  Course his name was not Johnny, but there are people out there who may remember.

But back to the three stars.  News was not instantaneous back then like it is now.  I was dating a kid from Medicine Lodge and when he picked me up that night he told me about the plane crash.  Of course it was several days before the news was confirmed to my satisfaction in a newspaper because the printed word (at that time) was gospel. Then the Three Stars song hit the charts.  Can you believe we used to actually stop by the record shop and pick up a list of the "Top Ten Songs"?  I think it was put out by Billboard?  Getting a little fuzzy here on some of the details.  I do remember Hayes Record Shop on Main Street. That was the place to go when the new 45's came out cause they had them!

When the kids were in band I rented instruments for them from Hayes.  45 RPM records were quickly becoming a thing of the past and 33 1/3 LP were the preferred product.  I had a little case of 45's that I left with my sister after I married and started my travels.  I never saw them again.  They were eventually swallowed up in her estate and probably wound up at the city dump.  Funny how that stuff happens.

Anyway, Elvis had hit the scene, but he went off to the service in 1958 leaving the stage clear for these three.  Besides, Elvis was different and these guys were "comfortable".  They were guys we could have gone to school with; and Elvis was a wiggle worm.

I guess what I am trying to say here is that I was out and about in one of the richest periods of Rock and Roll, Rhythm and Blues, Rockabilly, Gospel, Folk, Country and what ever went on at that time.  My daughter, Debbie, called the other day to express her surprise that I knew who Peter, Paul and Mary were!  Poor child!  The tales I could tell her.  One of the main reasons I married her dad was because he danced the same style I did, sort of a hip hop, stroll, exhibitionist dance to a different drummer.

So once more I will put the Big Bopper, Richie Valens, Buddy Holly, Gene Vincent, Fats Domino, Jerry Lee Lewis, and a plethora of names that I must stop here because I do not want to miss anyone to rest.  Sometimes when I can't sleep at night I walk the halls of Nickerson High and visit the Convention Center and I am young again.  That is the great part about Nostalgia, as long as I can remember I am young.  And when I begin to forget, well I guess I will cross that bridge when I get to it.  If I am really lucky when I lay my head down for that final nap the Big Bopper will sing me a rousing rendition of Chantilly Lace and Johnny will flip me across his back like in the good old days!