I Shoulda Done That

We decided to go to a nearby town of Bandera for lunch. This is a very small town that claims to be the Cowboy Capital of the World. With just over 900 inhabitants, this claim seems a bit far fetched. Although, every town wants to have some claim to fame. We have visited here several times in the past and enjoyed the pretty drive through the hill country and the excellent barbecue once there. Well, we could not find our favorite restaurant and finally decided that it was now closed and tried a new place, sitting on the patio near the street. As there was a considerable amount of traffic, this was not apparently a good choice, but, we persevered and merely talked louder. We then were asked by the waitress if we wanted any appetizers or something to drink and happily ordered a Texas favorite - Shiner Bock Beer. She returned to inform us that this particular beer was still warm and did we want it over ice or a lot of crushed ice. ( A little voice began to nag inside my head) I do not care for beer over ice nor does HW2. We listened to the other types of cold beer available and ordered frozen margaritas, since we do not care for light beer either. (The little voice kept nagging). The margaritas arrived and had been made from a mix and were quite sweet, but we sipped them and ordered.

I wanted barbecued brisket, and HW2 wanted a medium rare fillet mignon. Sides of salad, vegetables and fries were finally agreed upon. The waitress returned to inform HW2 that they had not made the blue cheese dressing and after some discussion she ordered vinegar and oil, to be told they had raspberry vinegarette. So she ordered ranch (not her favorite). (The voice was nagging much louder now) Salads arrived with ranch dressing and were eaten. The main entree arrived. I was served green beans but had ordered corn. HW2 got a strip steak, not a filet, which was well done and called the waitress over to ask to speakto the manager. She brought out another waitress, who found a small bit of pink and stated, " That is a rare steak, and that is a fillet mignon." Now HW2 does not suffer fools, explaining what a fillet looks like and exactly what rare means and sent the whole thing away. The only satisfaction was to have her part of the order removed from the bill. (talk about the nagging voice now yelling in my head) I was supposed to eat while she sat there. I ate some, ordered a box, and mentioned to the waitress that my beans did not look like corn. She replied, "I said to the chef, "he ordered corn," but he replied we only have beans, take it out there." None of this was her fault for sure. She tried to be a good waitress but was not backed up by the people in the kitchen or other wait staff.

I paid the bill and tipped our waitress. I felt sorry for her. As we left, as is usual for us, we both said in unison,"Why didn't we get up and leave in the beginning?" (THE NAGGING VOICE WAS OUT IN THE OPEN) We drove down through town to discover that the restaurant we had been looking for was still there, further down the street. Maybe we will return some day, however, we will listen to our nagging voices, as we "shoulda done that" in the beginning.

Favorite Museums

When we are traveling, I have a rule that I follow: Only one church, one castle, and/or one museum per day. After awhile they all look alike to me, and I really do want to visit a limited number of these places. However, over the years I have visited a number of museums that stand out in my memory. The Guggenheim in New York is spectacular. I think the best way is to take the elevator to the top and slowly wind your way to the bottom. A wonderful setting for art! The Norman Rockwell Museum is a favorite. They rotate the collection, and yet you get to revisit favorites everywhere you look. He thought of himself as an illustrator, but indeed he is an artist. He painted his version of idealized American life, and, to my mind, there is nothing better.

In Paris, if you like the Impressionist painters as much as I do, then you'll understand why a visit to the Musee d'Orsay (thanks, Rachal!) leaves me overwhelmed with their many works. Of course, a visit to I. M. Pei's pyramidal entrance to the Louvre, leads the visitor downward to a visit of one of the four parts of this wonderful museum. I can only manage one section at a time and always want to revisit The Mona Lisa or Winged Victory.

A visit to the Museum of Art in Chicago will surprise you by its extensive collection. You turn a corner to see a Grant Wood or impressionistic hay stacks or lily ponds. When in Omaha, visit the Joselyn Museum which though small by the examples suggested above, has good representations of most art. I particularly enjoy the two glass sculptures by Dale Chihuly. Now these are a few of my favorite museums, and I am sure that you, the reader, have your own favorite ones. Let me know your favorites, and maybe it will be the one museum that I visit some day.

The Padded Room

Not long ago, Michelle said, "I am going to have to put you two into a padded room." Michelle manages the reception desk for about a dozen doctors at the hospital about a mile from where we lived when we were in Omaha. When we picked Dr. Drval as our main doctor, we met Michelle. Each time as we did annual physical medical stuff, we got to know her better. Then HW2 had her carpel tunnel surgery on her right and later her left hand by Dr. Ayoub, out of this same office. As HW2 recovered from these surgeries, we talked to Michelle about our upcoming barge trip to France and the Bordeaux region. She wanted to go, but she needed to work, as she is a single mom and is the sole support for her daughter.

Imagine her surprise to be called from New York on the way back from France to ask to set up an appointment with Dr. Aoub for HW2, since she had badly broken her finger in a fall there and wanted the doctor to look at the surgery and her progress in mending. Michelle got us an appointment as soon as we returned to town, and, of course, heard all about how it happened. HW2's hand was examined, and he thought the French surgeon had done a wonderful job and took out the wire structure holding the finger in place while it healed.

Some time later, I fell going down the basement stairs and broke a bone in my foot. A week or so later, after returning from a quick trip to Albuquerque to put stained glass in a gallery there, HW2 made an appointment for me to see a doctor, get x-rays, and have a cast put on my foot. When we emerged from the doctors office to the reception area, with new cast on my foot, Michelle said, "I am going to have to put you two into a padded room." We really try to be careful and look where we are going so that we can avoid the dreaded padded room. We walk around the park here each morning, and recently, as we were taking our tour around, we went over a small bridge over a ditch, and suddenly there was HW2 on her fanny, sliding off the bridge. It had gotten cold enough to have some frost on the surface, and HW2 fell. "I'm OK, I'm OK," she said as she got back onto her feet. Now she is really quite sore on her left side but slowly improving each day. Padded room, watch out, here we come!!!!!

"Who's your daddy?"

I just love the expression, "Who's your daddy?" I can think of many times when I say it to HW2 and then get to enjoy the look on her face or the laughter that bubbles up right afterwords. Sugar Daddy fits into this category, but implies, to me at least, too much money and a younger woman carrying on with an old coot. So I guess I will leave off "sugar" and stick to "daddy."

Last night HW2 was getting ready for a shower and nipped out into our living area, which caused me to say, "Look at the cutie girl outfit!" That caused much laughter, too, on her part. Now she did have some items of clothing on, but I will leave that to your imagination. Cutie Girl got her shower, and we settled down to read before turning out the light. "Good night, Cutie Girl. Your daddy loves you!"

River's Edge Tuscan Grill

Last night we treated ourselves to dinner out. We almost went to 2-3 places before settling on the Tuscan Grill. This restaurant has the most beautiful setting. It is located on a bluff overlooking the Guadalupe River which has been dammed up in several places and is quite wide and deep at this location. You park on the street and walk onto the roof of the restaurant and then either wind your way down into the building via a ramp or stairs. We were seated at a table by the window and could watch the ducks swimming down the river and the sun setting behind the hills of Kerrville.

We ordered bruschetta which arrived with our beer (Texan) and wine (Italian). HW2 also ordered a salad Gorganzola which had a reduced balsamic dressing. I tasted her salad, and it was very good. I finished the bruschetta, which is toasted bread topped with diced tomatoes, basil, cheese, and onions.

For the main dish HW2 had veal picatta, and I had scallops wrapped with prosciutto ham over linguini in a sauce of reduced white wine, garlic, and tomatoes. We each tasted both items and pronounced them wonderful. At the end of the meal we were visited by the owner/chef, who hoped we had enjoyed the meal, and we assured him that we did. When asked where he had studied to learn the fine art of Italian cooking, he replied, "I ate and drank my way across Italy... well, mostly drank." He certainly served up credible Italian fare for us. Would we go back? In a heartbeat! Now you knoow one of the many reasons we like to stay in Kerrville.

Hawaii

We wanted to get away from New York State winters, and after completing graduate school I felt fortunate that I had found a job to teach math and physics at the Iolani School in Hawaii. We sold our trailer that we had been living in and took a three week trip through this beautiful country, shipped the car from San Francisco, and boarded a plane for Hawaii. It was 1964. Hawaii had been the 50th state for only five years.

Iolani was a private Episcopal Boys' School, and at first I was a bit concerned about teaching just boys but looked forward to the new challenges. I quickly found out that in this school, all graduates were accepted to and attended college or university. Most started college with advanced placement credits, and some started college as sophomores. It was a wonderful teaching situation with little discipline necessary. The parents of the boys had spent much money for their tuition and expected serious scholarship in return. Imagine, the entire class with homework done every day, ready to take notes, and asking good questions! Sounded like paradise to me as their teacher.

When not teaching we could explore the island of Oahu on weekends, go to the beach in the early evening with our small hibachi (grill), cook out and play in the surf, and watch the sun go down. The views of the volcanic mountains with the backdrop of the Pacific Ocean were spectacular, especially to this farm boy from the rolling hills of New York. Particularly of interest were the unusual flowers and flowering trees which could be seen the year around.

My brother-in-law Todd and his wife Marti were stationed in Schofield Barracks while we were there, and although he had two tours of Vietnam which caused us worry, it was wonderful to have family in town. While we waited for our car to be shipped, we were loaned the use of a Jaguar convertible from another officer who was TDY elsewhere. I quickly learned to like driving Jaguar convertibles.

For three years we explored the islands, entertained visiting family and friends, and enjoyed our growing family. Scott and Chris were born in Hawaii and therefore Kamainah(native). Here we met the cousin with the same name, born within two weeks time of my birth, and another distant cousin who also taught at Iolani, drove an Edsel, and lived with her family high up on the hills with a beautiful view of the city and ocean. We even got to house sit for them.

After three years of endless summer and mild weather, we were ready to continue our education and moved to Tucson, Arizona, to attend the university. It was hard to leave Hawaii, Iolani, and our friends, but the challenge of earning a PhD drew us away. All of my family has returned for visits, with Scott being the most recent visitor. Even grandson James was born there! Maybe someday HW2 (also born in Hawaii) and I will again visit the Hawaiian Islands.

Potty Mouth Story

Do y'all remember a short while back when I wrote about the woman who was arrested for shouting profanities at her overflowing toilet? (That is, of course, something neither HW2 or I would EVER do .... SURE!) Well, a column appeared in this morning's San Antonio Exress-News which referred to the same story, and which is hilarious! We both laughed out loud reading it, as it expressed our sentiments exactly. So here it is for the rest of you to enjoy.

FROM THE BELLE TOWER
Overflowing toilet really is one big deal
CELIA RIVENBARK
Hons, I'm a little nervous after reading that a Scranton, Pa., woman was charged with disorderly conduct and could spend 90 days in jail for shouting profanities at her overflowing toilet.
In her own home.
As Dawn Herb explained it, "I was in my house. It's not like I was outside or drunk. The toilet was overflowing and leaking into the kitchen and I was yelling (for my daughter) to get the mop."
Only apparently she asked for the "#$%@!" mop.
A neighbor, hearing this agonized cry, did not respond with plunger in hand but rather reported the cursing to the police, who cited Ms. Herb. Along with possible jail time, she could be ordered to pay a fine of $300, which could be better used to pay for three minutes of a plumber's time, if you ask me.
So why does this story give me the shivers? Well, because I live in an 85-year-old house and I know what it's like to stand in questionable water every now and then, screeching for help.
The last time this happened, about two weeks ago, I seem to recall saying something like, "Oopsie daisy! This silly goose of a toilet is overflowing all over the place. Let me just shut the water off and grab a few towels! It's no big deal!"
No! Wait a minute. That's not what I said at all. It was more of a "Oopsie #$%^ daisy! This @#$%^ toilet is overflowing all over the @#$%^ place. Let me just shut the @#$% water off and grab a few @#$%^ towels! It's a big @#$% deal!"
Fortunately, the neighbors didn't report me. Presumably because they also have 85-year-old plumbing and were busy cussing out their own toilets.
Have we become so sensitive that a person can't even cuss out their own toilet without fear of being arrested?
I'm not proud of it, but I've cussed out every appliance in my home at one time or the other. The !@#$% food processor usually gets the worst of it followed closely by the !@#$% vacuum cleaner. They're a pair of @#$%^'s, those two.
I also feel sorry for Ms. Herb because she said the cursing began while trying to get her daughter to fetch a mop.
Having both a toilet and a daughter of my own, I can say with great certainty that the daughter was probably listening to her @#$%^! iPod and wouldn't have noticed unless the toilet had pulled away from its base and lurched into her bedroom itself demanding a mop. At which point, the daughter would just say, "Mooooooommmmm! The !#@$$% toilet is in my room again."
Y'all know I'm right.
ONLINE To read past Celia Rivenbark columns, go to her page at MyrtleBeachOnline.com.
Contact CELIA RIVENBARK at celiariven@aol.com or visit www.celiarivenbark.com.

Candle or Potpourri Smells in Stores

Yesterday in the afternoon HW2 and I went downtown to purchase a present for a member of our family. We started to go in one of the stores, and I could tell before I had gotten more than my head in, that this store enjoyed the smells that some candles or potpourri provide, thinking that the customers will enjoy the smells and perhaps buy more things while there. Unfortunately for me, I get an instant headache. Hw2 knows this, and said, " You'd better not go into this store because of the odor." So I stayed, and even just having my head in the door, I immediately got the headache, which lasted for the rest of the afternoon and evening.

When we met Joe and Nellie in Fredericksburg, the problem of the smells in stores and resulting headaches came up because I had seen Joe waiting outside of a store while Nellie shopped and asked him about that. Joe gets the headaches too. Now he is the only other person that I know to whom this happens. I wonder if you readers have come across this problem and would appreciate your comments.

I do not know why these smells would cause a headache, but they do. Any ideas?????

Weather Fronts

Two nights ago Jennifer Broome (our San Antonio Weather lady) had said that we were having a series of weather fronts go through the area, and after the fourth we would notice a significant change in the weather. Well, at about 2:30 a.m. Monday morning, I woke up to hear the wind pounding us from the northwest and got up to close some windows, because we had loose papers on our kitchen table, and they were getting blown everywhere. Job done, back to bed, to hear the start of rain on the roof, and then the storm really hit and lasted till morning. Our motor home took the winds and rain in stride, since we were still parked here in the morning. However, our tent, which I had put up over a table nearby, had collected a bit of rain, and I had to take a broom and help the collected water depart. I picked up our chairs and plants and then decided to put the plants inside, since the chairs and plants kept being tossed about by the wind. Our temperature had gone from about 90 to the 50's. Winter, Texas style, had arrived.

We still managed our morning walk, although it was still very windy, and we needed to put on coats, sweat shirts, and long pants instead of shorts and tee shirts. This weather is supposed to last all week, and we are enjoying the change, since HW2 has been not too happy about weather in the high 80's or low 90's. Now she is very happy. I had to move all my glass-making activity inside because it was too windy to work outside and too cold, too. Best of all we dug out our down comforter, and it has kept us toasty warm for the past two nights.
I think we need to head further south.

PS from HW2: When we got up this morning, it was a chilly 38 degrees here, even though it is supposed to warm up to the low 70's. We seem to change clothes three times a day to accommodate the fluctuating weather! But so much more comfortable, I think! How absolutely delightful to put on jeans and a sweat! YEAH!!!!

Phyllis M.

Almost twenty years ago, I was asked by the superintendent of schools to put together a proposal to the General Electric Foundation in which I would detail ways to improve my school, Valley High School. Over the years I had either written or helped write several successful proposals, and so I selected a group of teachers, and we went to work writing our proposal. There was a two-page outline from the foundation on what GE was looking for. Phyllis was our contact person at the foundation, and when we finally put together our ideas, we faxed the end product to her. She called and said that there was a conference in Ruidoso that she would like to attend, and could our committee go there as well, where we would refine the proposal. We picked Phyllis up from the Albuquerque airport and drove to Ruidoso for the conference. During the entire conference we all worked on the proposal and incorporated the necessary ideas to meet the GE goals, which were to double the number of our high school graduates who would be attending college over a four-year period.

Some weeks later we learned that we were to be granted a large sum of money and could start to implement our proposal. Phyllis agreed to be on our board, and she faithfully visited Valley High School for each quarterly board meeting. She had to travel all the way from her home in Fairfield, CT, to NM to attend these meetings. During the summer GE arranged for personnel from each grantee school to attend a conference to share ideas and to learn from visiting scholars on excellent school practices. Over the years of the project, the school personnel became friends, especially appreciating the wonderful support we received from Phyllis. She listened to our concerns when things went sour and listened and heaped praise when things went well. She became a friend.

After I retired, Phyllis asked HW2 and me if we would help her in her work, and perhaps we could visit school and help new schools with their proposals. For some two years we continued to work, this time directly for the foundation. In that process we were able to see schools improve, and others begin the process, marveling at the patience of and farsightedness of Phyllis and the foundation staff. She was working with many high schools throughout the country and doing other work as well on scholarships, doing it all very well. What a joy it was for us to be able to help and perhaps take some of the travel burden off her!
We still keep in touch, talking or emailing frequently, and when possible we visit, too. After the death of her first husband, Phyllis found a soul mate in Pat, and we were honored to be with them, friends, and family when they were married. I do not think that most proposal writers are privileged to develop such a friendship very often. Phyllis is a mover and shaker in the corporate world, and in her special way has made a significant impact on secondary education. What a wonderful legacy for all, but, for us, the best part was the friendship!

cows

Now if you live on a farm, it well may happen that you also have cows. When we were growing up we had a Guernsey cow named Beulah. She was milked twice a day by dad and we got all the rich unpasteurized milk that we could drink. We also had plenty of cream and at times my folks made butter with a hand churn. When the milk was refrigerated, the cream rose to the top and usually was skimmed off before we poured a glass of milk. Then we moved to Waterville and no longer had our cow so we got products from the daily visit by the milkman. Several years later we moved to Newark Valley where my folks bought a small farm and at some point, Maurice purchased his first cow, another Guernsey, named Holly. She provided us fresh milk, cream and butter.

While Maurice was in high school he frequently helped out our farmer cousin, Zelner who lived across the road. Zelner had a herd of Brown Swiss cows that had been in the family for two generations. Sadly, Zelner was a passenger in a car that was hit be a drunk driver and later died of his injuries. The result of this tragedy was that Maurice purchased and took over Zelner's farm and began his lifetime love of farming on his own. For many years he maintained the herd of Brown Swiss cows and even had young stock quartered in our barn which I reluctantly took care of before and after school. Not my favorite job. Our Guernseys were so mellow that you could put your arm around their neck and they would go along with you. To this day I think that Guernsey cows are beautiful to look at and am delighted that I do not have to take care of them.

As I went through high school I kept wondering what I was supposed to do when I completed school. My junior year English teacher was a crackerjack of a teacher and asked me one day, "Where was I going to college?" Thinking quickly, I replied, "Where did you go to college?" She replied, "Albany State." I said, "That's where I am going too." She replied, "You can go there but you better never try to be an English teacher." I guess she had evaluated my English abilities and felt that any other field would be an improvement. Can you imagine my relief? I was going to college and did not have to become a farmer and take care of cows. My brother may have loved the life of a farmer but I did not.

Starting School

Starting school was an exciting time. I got to ride the school bus, which picked us up down at the corner. I think that the name of our bus driver was Mr. Heath. His job was to get us all to the Bel Sherman Elementary School in Ithaca, NY. Our principal was a lady, and so were our teachers. My older brother was in third grade and did not want to put up with a younger brother tagging along. I was four years old and in the first grade. One of the girls in our room had an accident in her pants because she did not ask to go to the bathroom. That was quite something, if you are four years old. She was very embarrassed, but I do not remember any other kid having that problem again. My first grad teacher was Miss Squires. Why I can remember all of this, I do not know. For reading we had Dick and Jane. Father went to work each day, carrying his briefcase, and mother stayed home taking care of Dick, Jane, and baby Sally. It seems to me that there was a black puppy and maybe a cat too. These were great adventures as we all learned to read.

I did not think that it was unusual to be four years old and in the first grade. In later years my social immaturity caused me some problems, but not in elementary school. Later on, I asked Mom why had I gone to first grade and learned that first grade was free, but if you were in kindergarten, the family had to pay a fee of $100, and we did not have the money. What I really think is that I was driving her nuts at home, and she could not wait for me to get out of the house and begin my schooling.

At one point Mom was requested to come to school to meet with the teacher and another parent. It seems that I was kissing the daughter of this other parent in the bushes, and the teacher thought the parents should hear about this activity and take care of the problem. I do not have any memory of any discipline about the event, but when asked, Mom said she wanted to meet the parent that would allow her daughter to be kissed in the bushes.

Glass Making Continues

Today I finished some Christmas stars, put framing around works created recently, and then used a patina mixture to darken the panels. This work seemed to take the majority of the day but now feel like we are caught up on projects under way and can start out tomorrow with some new panels. My goal is to complete thirty pieces before we go to the Nov. show in Albuquerque, and so far I'm up to about 28, counting the small stars. I have even sold one cross to a neighbor, and another has been dickering about a cross design.

HW2 has been a real trooper completing business cards, a brochure showing pieces that can be purchased, and is currently battling with setting up a web page. A lady in the printing business across the street, who is printing our brochures, thought it would take about 7 hours to set up a web page and would be glad to help us only charging $70 per hour. That monetary figure sent HW2 back to trying harder than ever to create a web page. Now I ask you, who could be more supportive than that? We have a great partnership going here and have had for all the years of our marriage. I think that after other failed attempts, we both finally got it right in the marriage department, as we work well together. I dedicate this blog to HW2 and her many supportive efforts. Love ya, Sweetie!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Winter

The winter season means snow, cold, cheery fires, and Christmas to me. When we were growing up, either we had lots more snow then, or we were short, and it seemed like we had a great deal of snow. We had snow suits which included pants and coat, hats, gloves, and galoshes. When we were really little, Mom had to help us get all this stuff on, and when finished, I usually had to go to the bathroom which meant taking it all off and starting all over. Sounds like a real pain to me now. Then we were allowed outside, usually to ride our sleds down a nearby hill, dig snow caves, make snow angels, throw snowballs, and generally freeze our buns off. Finally when made to come in, off with all the winter weather clothes and get all tingly while we tried to warm up.

As Christmas neared, we started to look and dream about the toys illustrated in the Sears catalogue. Maybe a train or basketball or books to read, or even (lowest priority) clothes. Grandmother Roe gave us silverware for quite awhile, although we never understood why. Grandmother S. knitted us new mittens each year, which proved useful when making snowballs. Christmas day found us home in the morning and usually off to Grandma Roe's for a family dinner in the afternoon. We got to see all of the relatives and also probably get some cologne. Boys do not generally smell very good, as they resist taking too many baths, and so the cologne was a hint from some relative that we could do better in the hygiene department. It seldom got used enough so that by the next Christmas we still did not need another bottle but received another anyway.

One winter we made a very large snowman that turned out to be Martha Washington. We knew it was Martha because she had very large breasts and so couldn't be a snowman. Martha was about 7-8 feet tall and lasted for some weeks until a spring thaw put an end to her. She really was spectacular, and I was quite proud of her and took her picture which is in some scrapbook in storage these days, or I would add her to this blog. So I am sorry that you will miss seeing her in all her statuesque beauty.

One last memory. We lived in Ithaca at the time and got a tremendous winter storm which I remember to be at least four feet of snow. Two things stick in my mind. The snowplow got stuck trying to plow out our hill and was there until spring (This might be an exaggeration), and I fell off the back porch into the snow, all four feet and disappeared (I thought forever). Maurice probably wished it was so. Everyone laughed as I tried to climb out of all the snow, and Dad saved me from a cold certain death. We really did not play much in that snow because it was too deep. Today I think that we really lived in a Courier and Ives print each winter and feel sorry for all the people who live in hot climates and do not get to experience snow and winter.

Newspaper Tidbits

In the San Antonio Express-News, October 17, there was a short article entitled "Bits and Pieces"which I read this morning. One that was interesting was called, "Kids' boat ride not a good idea." It seems a grandfather wanted to take four of his young grandchildren for a spin in his boat and treat them to food in an area restaurant. All were unrestrained, and all were around the age of four. The grandfather was stopped on a busy street using his lawnmower to pull his 15 foot motor boat. He was driving an unregistered vehicle and not charged. The police thought he did not willfully put his grandchildren in danger. Somehow, I can empathise with this grandfather, even though he does not seem to think his actions through. I guess I'd better sell my boat.

The other article was called, "Real potty mouth now facing jail." Apparently Dawn H. faces up to 90 days in jail and a $300 fine after she directed a profane outburst at her overflowing toilet. She said, "It doesn't make sense. I was in my house. It's not like I was outside or drunk. The toilet was overflowing and leaking down into the kitchen and I was yelling for my daughter to get the mop." The article continues with the ACLU taking up her case as it related that you can't prosecute somebody for swearing at a toilet. I think that I will also sell my toilet. Have a happy day.

Broken Bones

Did you ever break one of your bones? When I was a senior in high school, I took my sister and younger brother on a sled nearby to our creek, which had frozen over. We had fun trying to stand up on the ice, and I would get the sled sliding in a circle to give them a fun ride. Well, I slipped in the process, falling on my face and breaking one of my front teeth. That ended this outing, and we went home, where a trip to the dentist became the order of the day. Mom drove me to a nearby town of Dryden, where we visited a dentist, and he made me a temporary cap while fixing me a replacement tooth, which meant more trips to install it once made. He did a great job, and that fake tooth worked for many years until it finally had to be replaced several years ago.

I don't think that breaking a tooth exactly qualifies as a broken bone, and I had felt lucky that I had not done that so far in living my life. Well, if you live long enough, you get your come-uppance. In Omaha about 2-3 months ago, I was hurrying down stairs to tell HW2 that I had successfully removed a broken tree branch and cut it into firewood pieces. Guess who completely missed the bottom step? Yup! Me! Of course, I fell and really twisted my right foot. We were both shocked, but quickly I managed to get up and with HW2's help, started the icing process. Well, it swelled and turned black and blue and in a few days, lots of other colors. She even got me a cane, which proved very useful to get about. Other than the swelling, it really did not hurt, so I decided that nothing was broken, and we got on with our activities, which included a sudden trip to Albuquerque, about 900 miles away. My foot didn't hurt, so I drove using cruise control as much as possible. We spent a few days there, and then driving back to Omaha my foot seemed to begin to hurt inside as if a bone had been, maybe, broken???

HW2 put her foot down, and within a half hour of arriving home we were at the hospital and had x-rays taken. It was broken. It had been swollen enough that they said this was probably the first date that they could have cast it anyway. An hour later, I got driven home and with a lovely cast on my right foot and up to just below the knee. Suddenly HW2 had to do all the driving. I could get around with the cane but was not good for much distance work.

I discovered motorized carts in grocery stores. They are really fun to drive, and I kept trying to find fellow sufferers who might become racing companions, but no luck. Each store seems to have their own brand of motorized cart, and it takes a bit to get used to its functions. I even wore one out at Sam's Club and had to walk back to the front of the store to get another.

I met a lady walking in Old Town with a cane and tried to see if she would trade canes, but all I got was a smile. People even opened and held doors for this cripple. How thoughtful people can really be when they see the need.

After three weeks in the cast, we returned to the hospital and tried to talk a physician's assistant into removing the cast, as Ashley's wedding was that next weekend. X-rays were taken, and she announced that not one, but two, bones had been broken, and I would have to remain in the cast for at least two more weeks. We pleaded, and she arranged for a visit to an orthopedic surgeon the next day. Now visions of surgery were going through my head, and with great trepidation we returned to the hospital to meet the surgeon. He had the cast removed. It was a toxic waste dump by then. He looked at the x-rays and announced that I was to now stand up, and not only that, but to stand balanced on my broken foot. This did not seem like a good plan if I was really having two broken bones, but I complied with his request. Nothing happened!!! He said, "You are good to go. I can see no evidence of a second broken bone and the first bone is healing well." Whew! What a relief! I had prepared myself to face certain surgery and now, I was good to go. Thank heaven for that.

Broken bones or teeth can humble you very quickly, and suddenly you are at the mercy of your surroundings and very limited in ways that you are not used to. Now when asked, I can really say, "Yes, I have broken a bone. Have you?"

Famous People

Did you ever meet a famous person and get to talk with him, even for just a short time? When I was in college, I worked summers and Christmas holidays at the Lake Placid Club in the Adirondack Mountains of upstate New York. This beautiful old club provided a lovely setting for the very well to do and many captains of industry would spend a holiday or summer there. I got to check in people like Mr. Gouldon of Gouldon Mustard, Mrs. Otis of the elevator family, and the real mother in the Cheaper By The Dozen movie/book, Mrs./Dr. Galbraith. They proved to be nice people and appreciated the services that we rendered to make their stay pleasant. Most were interested in what we were doing and encouraged us to complete our college education.

At times Lowell Thomas (he gave the nightly news on radio for 15 minutes), would be there, and I checked him in and some time later, out of the Club. While getting his bags from his room and preparing to take them to his car, he asked me if I had any cash on me, as he wanted to leave a tip for his maid. I do not remember how much money he wanted to leave her, but I was able to loan him the money. I got his luggage to his car, packed it in the trunk, and watched him drive away. He never paid me back for my small loan or even offered to give me a tip for my efforts with his luggage. Most guests at the club would give tips for any service rendered. The tips we earned were saved for college expenses, and we lived on the small salary provided by the club, which was less than $10 per week. The tips I earned actually paid for most of my college expenses. My opinion of Mr. Lowell Thomas was always colored by this event, and even today when I hear his voice on an old recording or News Movie that he narrated, I remember him driving off and stiffing this poor college student.

Thank you's are Important

In church today the sermon was, "And He Was a Samaritan!" from Luke 17: 11-19. The Rev. Rob Lohmeyer delivered this sermon and concentrated on a time in the life of Jesus when he was walking from one area to another, and during this time He was approached by a group of 10 lepers who asked Jesus for his help. He told them that they would be returned to health and should report to their priest to show that they were now clean, so they could then return to interaction with society and no longer be shunned. The ten hurried off, but one returned to Jesus, prostrated himself at his feet, and thanked him. Jesus responded, "Where are the other nine?" Now the pastor went on to talk about this one man who thanked Jesus, and that he was a Samaritan, as well.


I started to think about the need to thank people when they do something for you, give you a present, or help you in some way, and how the act of thanking seems to complete this cycle in a very positive way which makes the giver feel validated even though he may not expect that. My mom has talked about why people do not bother to thank someone when they have been given a gift. Should she even bother in the future? She feels guilty if she were to cut someone off for not giving the courtesy of thanking and continues to give, but is sad that they think so little of her that they do not thank her.

One grandson James is particularly good at saying thank you, and he seems to have taken this notion to his heart and probably will do so throughout his life. Another grandson, Jonny got a present of clothes from his Grammy and got on the phone and thanked her for, "the cutie boy clothes." What a smile this brought to his Grammy's face and the recognition that Jonny's mom liked to call him, "her cutie boy."

I think that it is important to thank others and try to do so as much as possible myself. When my kids were growing up I used to say, "You can have and or use the present AFTER you have thanked the giver."

My question to you, the reader, is, "How important are thank you's to you?" I would love to get your comments as well as suggestions on how to help others learn to return thanks to the giver.

Grandson Christian

There are two years between Jonny and Christian. We were up helping when Christian was about arrive and took care of Jonny while his mom gave birth to his baby brother. Christian arrived home and seemed from the outset to go at life full tilt. He was a happy baby and did all the baby things well. After all, he was their second child, and they could put all that hard earned learning about babies to use with fewer concerns than when they started with Jonny.

Now Christian is three years old and a happy boy. Yesterday, we learned that he can ride his two wheel bike all by himself, without training wheels and did so all the way to the soccer practice at the elementary school blocks away. He thinks that he can do anything his brother does and frequently does. He should be even taller than Jonny, probably 6' 6" or taller. These are going to be big boys and the tallest of all of the grandchildren. He loves to get on the phone, especially to Grammy and tell her all about something that happened. Early on it was a bit hard to understand, although he speaks very clearly, and you can understand almost everything he is saying. The problem is that, of course, he tells it at top speed, so you have to listen, really listen. Fortunately, mom is near to explain when necessary. It will be fun to watch him develop and to see what he wants to do as a teenager or as an adult. Stay happy!

P.S. from HW2: His parents frequently call him the "oyster boy," because he thinks the world is his oyster! He goes into everything with the idea that it will work out perfectly and everyone will love him, and they do! He is probably the happiest of all 13 grands, and we find him irresistible! Every morning when we are visiting, and he is up before I am, when I come down the stairs, I am greeted with a "Good morning, Grammy!" and a big smile and a hug! What more could a grandmother ask for?

Grandson Jonny

We were there when this young man was born. His arrival had made us twelve grandchildren, and we feel so blessed by them all. He arrived home, and his mom and dad started getting used to having a baby in their family. Soon the nursing, crying, diaper changing, and all that new baby stuff started to be familiar, and we returned to Texas. When Jon was just starting to walk, his mom brought him here to Kerrville for a visit, and we got to watch him take his first steps unassisted. We also got to show them all around the area and ate in several of the great restaurants that are located here.

That summer his mom got a three-week job teaching clarinet at Interlochen National Camp for the Arts and wondered if we would like to bring our motor home up there and take care of Jonny while she taught her students. We decided this would be fun, so we drove up, found a Michigan State Park across the road, and parked our rig there while we took care of Jonny. We had a lot of fun doing breakfast, watching Baby Einstein videos, taking field trips, and wandering all over the place. This is a great music camp, and lots of talented youngsters come for several weeks to learn more about their instruments. Literally, music seems to drift through the woods as the kids practice and take lessons. Well, in the process, Jonny and I bonded, and he really did not want to even go home with his mom or even his dad when he visited on the weekends. It was very touching to me, and his parents also handled this quite well. Somehow, we manage to maintain the bond to this day.

Jonny is going to be very tall, maybe 6' 4'' or more. He is way ahead in his schooling, which will provide many challenges for him, his parents, and his teachers in the future. It will all work out, with patience on the part of all concerned. He knows a great deal about music, since he has been hearing his mom practice since he was conceived. He can tell you he wants Beethoven or Mozart and which piece he wants to have played. When we are there and taking him to school, I pretend to be playing the piano, and he will conduct the music and laugh and say, "Grandad, do it again!" How blessed we are to be involved in even small ways in the lives of our many grandchildren.

P.S. from HW2:
We stayed with Kim and Chuck during the following winter to help with Jonny (almost age 2) when Kim was pregnant with Christian, so the bond between Jonny and his granddad increased. After Christian was born, we were heading to Omaha to help Kristy and Tim move, and we got up early to leave. At the bottom of the stairs, standing there to say good-bye were Chuck, Kim, and Jonny. Chuck softly explained to Jonny that Granddad and Grammy had to leave now. Big tears welled up in Jonny's eyes, and he said, "Jonny go, too?"
We almost stayed!

Nannook of the North

Six years ago, we were in Ann Arbor helping Kim and Chuck and waiting for their first child to be born. At that time they lived in a Cape Cod style house which really had a lot of room. The main floor had an 'L' shaped living room/ dining room combination, kitchen, bathroom and two bedrooms. Upstairs was a sitting room and another bedroom. There was also a full basement. This baby was due in early January, and we had driven up from Texas to be there before Christmas and were enjoying being together and trying to be helpful. Well, it is cold in December in Michigan, and frequently they have snow and wind and stuff like that. It was quite different from the weather in Texas.

We were staying in a bedroom on the main floor, and the bed was directly under a large window, where the air would get chilled by the window and drift down onto the bed. The room was small and therefore was not easily rearranged, so we tried to put up with the cold air falling down on our heads and neck. Finally, I got an idea of putting a blanket behind the pillows with enough remaining to be pulled over our heads like a scarf. One night Chuck came by to say good night and caught me under my head-covering blanket and said, "Goodnight, Nanook of the North." He really thought I was a bit of a wuss until one night much later HE was lying on the bed and got caught by the cold air cascading off the window and realized what had been going on when we had been there. We were glad when the baby boy joined our family, and I was glad to head back to Texas with my new nickname firmly in place.

Baps and Peewadin'

Now I get very interested in words, especially when I have no idea what they mean, or how they are used. Several years ago, HW2 and I were beginning a trip in the British Isles and were staying in Canterbury in a bed and breakfast which had been made out of a hops barn. Now hops, a flower, are a key ingredient in beer, helping to preserve the beer and give it a taste that is not sweet, and so it is very important. We had decided to go into town to get lunch and preferred to get lunch in a pub. We ordered beer and a sandwich and were enjoying them and, especially, the conversations around us. Several people were reminiscing about what it was like to live in England during WWII. They included us in their conversation and then asked how we liked the bap. Not knowing what a bap was, it was a hard question to answer. But, not being shy, we asked what was a bap or bop, or whatever it was. They all laughed and told us that a bap was a roll, and we were eating one right then as our sandwich. So, if you get to England, you have a head start and can impress the natives by ordering a bap with your lunch.

The first time we came to visit Kerrville, we stayed in an RV park right in town and were not always careful to come in the entrance, since we were parked very near the exit. One day, I pulled the car in the exit and scared a lady pulling out. She rolled down her window and shouted that I had scared the peewadin' out of her. Unlike the bap, I had an idea what I had scared out of her, but I went over to her car and apologized for coming in the exit and scaring her. She forgave me and asked if I knew what peewadin' was and I agreed I did. Have you ever had the peewadin' scared out of you?

We Take A Break and Meet Tom H. and Merryl R.

You can only keep working for so long,and then you need to take a break. So, after lunch I asked HW2 if she wanted to take a break, and she agreed she did, so we went to town for a few things like ant traps, a mat for outside, and some few groceries. Then we decided to explore Ingram which is slightly to the west of where we are staying, since we heard that there was a glass store there, and I could use some supplies. The glass shop was found, but the owner was away; but she had rented quarters in the rear of her store, and we went there to see if he knew where the glass shop owner might be. He thought that she might have gone for lunch and then started explaining what his work shop was for. Tom H. makes Odds and Ends with Wood. He refinishes and makes new furniture to meet the requests of his clients. He retired in 1995 and after two weeks of completing 'honey do jobs' for his wife, he decided he'd better do something or go crazy. He opened this shop and has probably three months of projects waiting for his attention. He helped us locate some glass stores in Fredericksburg and in San Antonio, and we discovered that he was from Pennsylvania and had attended a military prep school in New York very near West Point. Deciding that the military life was not for him, he did not attend West Point but did his military service in Texas and fell in love with the state. He gave us a hand-made toothpick holder, two phone books, and we departed back toward the front of the store to see that the 'glass lady' had returned.

We went inside the store to meet Merryl R., who has been doing custom stained glass for thirty years after serving a four-year apprenticeship in stained glass in Cleveland, Ohio. Now this is one well-trained glass professional. She showed us a door panel project under way and suggested that the best store for glass supplies was in San Antonio. She didn't have supplies, but if we needed something, she would try to help. What nice people we meet, so friendly, and so helpful and willing to share their expertise.

Barbers

Now if HW2 can write about her excellent trip to get her hair done, I thought I could write about the 'Mars' version of the same event, going to the barber. In Omaha I first tried to find a barber near our house and set out one morning down Ames Street. I went up and down the street looking, finally found a shop, and went in to find it catered to black people, I think. But, needing a haircut, and in for a penny, in for a pound, I went in and sat down. I was asked if I needed a cut and said yes. A young barber said to check out the styles on a chart and let him know which came closest to what I needed. There were few that seemed to be what I needed, as I am not into afros and dread locks, but I picked out one, and he started by saying that he had never cut the hair of a white man. Well, he snipped and snipped, and a half hour later I paid and was told I only had to pay the amount for Seniors and did so with a tip for the young man. When I returned home, Kristy was there visiting, and when she heard about my trip to the barber on Ames Street started to laugh and said: "Don't you know that is the Black part of the city?" I replied, "I do now."

Another time, Kristy and the kids were visiting us in Albuquerque, and James was in need of a haircut, as was I. I offered to take him, but since he was a little tyke, he did not like to get too far from his mom. With significant reservations on my part (what did I do if he began to cry?), we set out for the barber shop. I said if he was a good boy in the chair, I would get the exact same haircut, and this interested him. He was great in the chair and got his haircut followed by me, and we proudly went home with our crew cuts. Kristy laughed and laughed, and HW2 kept saying: "Why did you do that?" I liked having a crew cut again, which I had all through college. It was so easy to take care of, just wash and dry. Now days, sadly, it is too thin to have a crew cut.

Finally, in Omaha the minister of our church told me about his barber, who liked to do stained glass, and when I went there not only did I get a great haircut, and we also could talk glass making. We even took a class on making lamp shades together since we found out that we had had the same teacher in our previous glass classes. Bob also likes to ride his motorcycle and take his family (usually his school teacher wife) on weekend bike rides.

Now, I am left with a question for the reader. Almost all the barbers I have come in contact with are men who like what they do, have outside interests and their families to talk about, as they cut your hair. When HW2 goes to a beauty shop and has a male person cut her hair, it seems to me that he frequently is gay. Now why is that?

Restaurants

One of the reasons we really like the Hill Country of Texas, especially Kerrville, is the many good restaurants. Since we got here we have been planning to go to Mamacita's for Mexican food. Yesterday we went there for lunch. My horoscope suggested that eating out was a great idea, and HW2's agreed. How wonderful is that? So at lunchtime we stopped in and saw the newly renovated building that can house many patrons and started with chips and two types of salsa. They make a guacamole mixed with sour cream that is quite good, and you could make a meal of this alone. Their other salsa is chopped more finely than we are used to having but it was very good too. The best part is the homemade tortillas brought warm to the table along with the entre. We have watched them make the tortillas and that is another meal in itself.

Grandson Tyler

Tyler is currently in the first grade and loves school, reading, his bike, which he rides all over the neighborhood, and going full tilt at life. He is redheaded and full of it, all boy. He is fun to talk with on the phone, but you can quickly lose him, as he is onto something else and gone in a flash, leaving the phone to others in the family.

When he and cousin Andy are together, watch out. They go and go till they drop. They have enjoyed last Christmas together and visiting Disney World in Florida. When together you can see that they look quite a great deal alike and probably have Dads that are brothers.

It will be fun to see what Tyler makes of life and of himself and whether this high level of energy is continued. Go Tyler!!!

Neighbors and Ants

We are gradually meeting the neighbors, who seem delightful, and the ants, which are not. Apparently, there has been too much rain here this year, and the ants have taken this opportunity to multiply by the millions. Now, these are the small black ones, but the fire ants are a problem here too. We learned when here before to watch where you stand because the fire ants will attack, and their bits are very painful, thus the name. Well, yesterday we noticed a small herd of ants visiting our pantry area, and the fight was on. The pantry is now empty, and everything is bagged or thrown out. Three or four garbage bags later, there is less food in the pantry supply. Many of you know that HW2 keeps a full pantry, so that we are able to throw a party for twenty at a moment's notice, or well, maybe ten in the motor home. We could actually seat ten though it would help if all were friendly. So today I will request that the management spray under the motor home, and my neighbor to the north says that will last for about ten days. So, the fight is on.

Geral is our neighbor to the north and warned me about the ants. Carl is a neighbor to the southeast and tried to get me to play poker, but I am not a poker player and hate to gamble since I always lose. Anne and Ken are neighbors directly south and stopped to introduce themselves, saying this is a great place to winter, as there is always something going on. Having wintered here in the past, we thought that might be the case. They all complain about the ants and crickets. We have not had a cricket yet. I'll keep you posted.

Twin Granddaughters: Lydia and Sarah

K and T wanted to have four children, but the fourth turned out to be twins. Lydia was born first and then Sarah. They are not identical and only sometimes seem to look much like each other. They are encouraged to dress as they wish and usually do not dress alike, although they did for Ashley's wedding.

They play soccer on a city 'Y' team, and both are competitive players. It is fun to watch them run, block, kick, score, or play goalie. Such good exercise! They both take piano lessons and have surprised and delighted us when they play during church service. Grandparents can not help being proud and beaming or having a tear or both at such times.

When Sarah was just old enough to get out of bed by herself, she was discovered by her mom pretending to read in the middle of the night. When asked if she was reading, responded, "Maybe." "Did you climb up the stool to turn on the light?" "Maybe." "What is your sister doing?" "Sleeping." "Won't you wake her?" "Maybe." She does her own thing and listens to her very own drummer.

Now, Lydia is very matter of fact, gets you organized, and provides as much information as she can to be helpful. If dishes need to get picked up, she gets in there and does the job without being asked. She is very much like HW2, and I tell HW2 that Lydia is her clone. Pink is her favorite color but that might be changing. She wants to have a car like a Volkswagen when she grows up and when asked if it will be pink, replied, "No, it will be red with black dots, a Liddybug." How clever was that!

Both like to sew, make cookies, make lunch, and we thoroughly enjoyed our Monday's together. While the older brother and sisters went to piano lessons, we got to enjoy the twins. Sometimes we would go out for lunch, and the 'olders' when coming to get the twins immediately wanted to know, "Where did you get to go for lunch this time?" They always found out because Keliah would ask Sarah, and out would tumble the answer.

It will be fun to see what develops in the coming years, and what they turn into as adults, but best of all they will always have each other. I always wanted to be a twin.

Fredericksburg and Meeting Joe and Nellie

Yesterday we decided to go to Fredericksburg ,which is about 25 miles north of Kerrville. In the late afternoon, after I had been working on stained glass crosses, we drove up there, quickly found a parking place, and walked to the nearby convention/park to enjoy Octoberfest. We paid our admission and learned that the event opened at 6 pm. So we turned around and walked down main street, which is a large tourist attraction with many shops full of stuff to buy. We managed to buy only one thing, which was a rack which could hold a large piece of stained glass such as a fireplace screen, since we thought it might be useful at the show in November. I kept saying to HW2 that we needed to find a pub because Digger needed a beer (Octoberfest, you know). When we crossed the street we saw a brew pub and naturally went in, only to find that many of the other folks on the street had the same idea, and the place was very full.

HW2 spotted a table near the bar that had a couple of empty chairs and asked the couple there if the chairs were taken and could we sit there. They kindly invited us to join them, and I went in search for two beers. When I returned I found HW2 enjoying their company and at some point in the conversation, we formally met Nellie and Joe, from Socorro, NM. Now imagine, since we had lived in NM for many years, finding fellow New Mexicans, in a brew pub in Texas. Joe had worked for many years at White Sands and had been at a demonstration that our son worked on when he was 'making better bombs.' It was quite a powerful explosion and intimidating, since it was nearly like an atom bomb explosion, but from fertilizer and oil, as is used in some truck bombs. Joe and Nellie have been married for 54 years and have four kids, one of whom is a medical doctor, and the two of them have just built a new house on a hillside and are taking a break from cement work around the house. They are on their way in their motor home, vacationing, and then going to see another kid who raises pecans near San Antonio. The conversation never lagged, and it quickly became time to go to Octoberfest. Our Christmas list is getting longer, I think. We wondered when we parked the car who we would see that we know, and, instead, made new friends. Cin, cin!

Granddaughter Keilah

When Keilah was a little tyke, her parents and grandparents (that's us, or is it "we"?) took the rapid transit (BART) and went into San Francisco to be tourists, and at the end of the fun day, we found a nice restaurant for dinner before returning on BART. Imagine our horror when Keilah managed to grab her mother's hot coffee at the end of the meal, knocking it over and, of course, burning herself in the process. As we rode BART back to our car, Keilah whimpered, and we all felt just terrible. Now that is one sad memory, but she got better quickly, had no scarring, and we all relearned to keep hot items far away from reaching babies. This was a good lesson, since Keilah now has four sisters and a brother.

One time while visiting us when she was little, Keilah began fussing, and her mom quickly sent her to her room, "Until you can be happy!" A few short minutes later, we all heard, "I'm happy now," said with a mildly sobbing voice. She was allowed to return and was then quite cheerful. She has grown to be a tall and slender, pretty young lady, who will probably break many a young man's heart in the next few years. She and her girlfriends giggle and whisper, ignore everyone else, and have a wonderful time.

Keilah wanted to learn how to make stained glass windows and was a quick learner, very precise in her efforts, enjoying the whole process. She didn't like the occasional glass cut but didn't complain. Once she got burned by the soldering iron, but again no complaining. She heals quickly. Best of all, she can solder like a pro. This is not easy to do. Some people have the touch and I wish I did. She even sold one of her windows when I was exhibiting at a show.

She takes piano at the Omaha Conservatory of Music and has become quite proficient. This has been due to her hard work and many hours of practice. However, she would prefer not to have to give concerts in front of other people. She does it though, and we all are proud of her efforts and results.

She is the typical older sister in a large family and very competent in dealing with brother and sisters. It is fun to see her mother the twins, the youngest ones. They adore their older sister.

As a grandad I have felt her at times to be my best buddy, and I particularly enjoyed her saving me a seat at church and sharing secret jokes about bad singers nearby. What a joy to watch and share in her growing up years!

Dad was born in a log cabin

When we were kids, occasionally an adult around us would tell family stories. Dad was inclined to stretch the truth a bit, and, especially as he repeated the story over the years, the story would change somewhat. By the time we were teenagers, we had the idea that Dad's stories might have some kernel of truth but also might be stretching the truth a bit. When asked why we immigrated from England, he suggested that our ancestors were either horse or fish thieves, and we had to get out of that country quickly. We still do not know which item was stolen, but I hope to learn soon.

We decided to take a family car trip to Missouri to visit relatives and to see the place where Dad was born. After several days on the road we arrived at cousin Dortha's house in Lebanon, Missouri, and unpacked (Dortha was a sister of Zelner, who lived across the road from us). The next day we went to a small bump in the road named Conway and then nearby to Bear Thicket (there really is a place with this name), an even smaller bump where Dad was born. A schoolhouse and church was all that remained in Bear Thicket. Several miles further was the farm where Dad had been born.

Maurice and I were on the edge of our seats to be the first to see the farm, because Dad had always told us that he was born in a log cabin. Imagine our delight when we pulled into the abandoned farm to see a two-story frame house. So much for Dad's story. He had added that in the winter the snow drifted into the room even up onto the blankets, the flies froze and were swept out the door in the morning. Now it does not snow much in Missouri either, and Dad was less than two years old when they moved away to resettle in New York. So how did he know all these things? Why did our family 'Go East, young man, go East' instead of 'Go West........?' That's another story.

Well, Dad did not have much to say, and that was the end of THAT STORY. Well, maybe not. Some years later I again visited Lebanon and went to visit the farm where Dad had been born to discover this visit that it was now inhabited. The lady of the house invited us in, and we found a frame house that was kept clean, but not much of the house was plumb, and walls and windows seemed to have a life of their own. After all, the house was very old. She asked if we knew that the front corner of the house was originally a log cabin, and then she showed us the window sills and size of the walls, etc. So Dad was partly right, and, as usual, partly stretched the truth a bit to make it interesting. He was born in a log cabin which was also a two story house at the time. I delighted in telling him that indeed he had been born in a log cabin. Now about stealing horses, or was it fish....

Texans, Again!

We did it, finally, even if it did take two days. The first day we got the car registered, HW2 got her driver's licence and voter registration, and then we were asked about the weight of the motor home. While it was technically fine when empty, we were concerned that it would exceed the weight requirements when loaded ,so I got to read road regulations for large trucks. The next day, a bit jittery I must admit (probably too much coffee, don't you think), I took the written test which seemed to focus on reflectors, how many you must have and how high, and other very interesting, if obscure, facts, and then watched it being graded. Now I have not watched a test being graded since HW2 and I had to take a test while helping Arthur run his Bed and Breakfast. All food handlers in Washington State must take a course and test on food handling. That was a few years ago, and we both did pass it with flying colors. Back to the written road test. It had 20 questions, and I had to get 70% correct if I was to pass. So I watched the grading with quite a bit of interest, trying to remember to breathe in and breathe out. I passed, whew, a relief, but then I had to take a road test in the motor home, being graded on how many pedestrians I missed, telephones swiped, or curbs run over while trying to turn the thing. At 2:30 I returned to this Texas torture, found the emergency blinkers, put them on (I had never used them to date), and went to get my person who would ride with me. It was a lady person, and she informed me exactly how I could fail, and we were off down the road. I never have driven this carefully and somehow got us back to the starting point, completing each task as asked. I did miss the pedestrian and the telephone pole and the curb. I passed!!!!! Then they granted me a license, and I am registered to vote too, if a day later than HW2.

Of course, we had to celebrate, and so after putting the motor home back in it's place in the RV park, we went to Walmart and then out to dinner. Steven met us at the door of this grill and sat us at a table with two cold brewskies (Texas Brew, I might add, Shiner Boch), followed by filets and potatoes and salad. He was very funny and smiled like I envision Prince William smiles (he must smile sometime) and hoped we would get dessert. Not having eaten all the potatoes or cleaned my plate, there was no dessert. I did miss the Nebraska touch of, "I'll grab that for ya" or, "no bother." We got "Y'all come back now, heah." We definitely are back in Texas, Y'all.

P.S. And, guess what? Our new license plate is BLG, which makes us think of BLOG! Isn't that cool? AND, best of all, I can remember that one (maybe)!

Other Members of the Family

When I was a kid, my family bought a small farm. It was the first house that we owned, having been renters for many years. Our farm was across the road from cousin Zelner and his wife Alberta. At one point I asked Mom how were we related to Zelner, and she didn't know, but thought it was distantly. Well, this lack of information got my interest going in the family genealogy. About that time I began asking older members in the family when various people had been born, married, died, had children, and had been buried. I kept notes on all the conversations and began to compile family records.

While in college I worked summers and Christmas vacations at the Lake Placid Club in the Adirondack Mountains of New York as a bell hop. At one point, I was checking in a guest who happened to have our family name. He wanted to know why I was a bell hop, and I explained the need to make money to attend college. When I asked about the family, he mentioned a cousin who was also interested in the family genealogy and had recently published a book on the subject. He thought if I contacted her that she might be able to explain how we were related to the cousins whose farm was across the road from ours. I wrote Ethel a long letter explaining my question and included as much information as I had collected to that point.

Several months passed, and I had forgotten about my request to Ethel, since I was back in college, and there was little time for genealogy research. Much to my surprise, I got a letter in the late fall from Ethel running to more than thirteen pages detailing exactly how we were related. It was indeed a distant relationship, since I think we were seventh cousins or something like that. This infusion of information caused me to purchase Ethel's book which was dedicated to the man I had checked into the Lake Placid Club so many months before. One of the highlights of my life was meeting Ethel and her husband and having dinner in their lovely home in Madison, Wisconsin,

Whenever I would get to a new city, I would look up in the phone book to see if any of the entries included people with the family name. I had learned from Ethel that we were all related since all descended from one immigrant to this country. One time I called to speak to a Carl and discovered that he had just died, and why was I calling at this time. This struck my funny bone, and I weakly said I was so sorry, but that I researched the family genealogy and hung up, laughing for a long time. After that experience, I only called a few more and did so gingerly.

One person I called in Hawaii had the same name and the same middle initial. He was an ensign in the Navy and stationed there. We got together and started to share family stories (his family lived in Colorado), and he had a middle initial from his mother's maiden name as did I. We were born within two weeks of each other, and he said that I looked much like his two brothers. We still keep in touch and he did make the Christmas list.

One Fine Woman

We frequently get comments when we interact with people when we are 'out and about'. If you have been reading our blogs then you have learned a bit about what I mean. One comment that we get from younger people is: "You're such a cute couple." Now I think this means: (1) We are very old, (2) We are getting smaller, (3) We are funny , (4) We are well preserved, or (5) The commentator hasn't a clue on what to say. If you had just met us and said this comment, what would you be meaning by it? Suggestions left in the comment box would be appreciated.

HW2 and I were checking into the airport to leave on a trip, and a porter fellow came up to HW2 after helping with our bags and said, "Now don't be offended or take this wrong, but you are one fine woman!" I just laughed because: (1) HW2 is one fine woman, (2) I appreciate others thinking what I think, (3) He probably was a widower and looking for a new mate and might do me in to get HW2, or (4) Think of the reaction Jayne Mansfield would have received. If you have to have Jayne explained, substitute Dolly Parton, and you'll be on target. Regardless, we have both laughed and frequently the expression, "You are one fine woman," gets into the conversation. That comment is too good to forget. Have a happy day, and remember the comments you get today.