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The Loves of my Life  For a long time I have been reluctant to post any pictures of "the loves of my life". I'm not sure why unless I'm just being over-protective, or maybe even possessive. These girls are all my granddaughters. (The youngest is missing in pic to the right). These three girls are all cousins - none are sisters. Gramma and I like to get all of them for a week every summer for pictures - and fun. Hopefully we will one day be able to get all the grandsons together and do the same thing, but we may end up trying it with half now - half another time. There is getting to be too many of them to have them all at one time. (Or maybe we're just getting too old!). Anyway. I sure think I'm a lucky grandfather.
  You all take care, now.
L e e My Street Marker - A Porta-Crapper! Portable Outhouse, aka "thunderbox".
aka Porta-Crapper, aka Sanitation Device
I live in a neighborhood that 25-30 years ago was actually considered 'out in the country'! It has pretty much built up in that period of time. I've lived here 34 years and have watched it grow. Heck, a block away from me used to be a private airport. Now, one of the state's largest high schools sits on that property.
As is the norm, new streets were laid for the subdivisions, but little was done to the main roads that was there long before they ever started building subdivisions - until recent. Apparently they couldn't put them off any longer. So, they finally got around to completly re-doing one of the main roads (a two lane road), opting to straighten it out eleminating several turns, building a new bridge over the creek, making it four lanes, and in some instances, just rerouting it (since there is another town involved in the completion).
I use that road, when it's open, to go/come from the mall since I walk at the mall 5-6 mornings every week. Well, there is so much construction going on widening it, and straightening it out, and rerouting it, that many of the cross street signs have either been removed or run over by construction equipment. Others are set way back off the road, easily missed. So, now the whole street has taken on a new appearance. It passes through subdivisions that it never used to. Quite a different view.
After they reopened two lanes, and for several days on my way home from the mall I kept missing the street that I turn on to get to my house. I kept looking for some landmark that I could use. And, THERE IT WAS! An outdoor Porta-Crapper! The road crew had set up a Porta-Crapper in the median right where I needed to turn. Bless there hearts. They must have been thinking of me and my delemma.
Now, I know that the scheduled completion date for that street, or road, or boulevard, whatever they decide to call it, is to be March of 2010. Gosh I sure hope they have street sign in place where they can be seen by then. If not, I guess I can go back to using the freeway again. (Maybe they'll leave that Porta-Crapper there in place! LOL
When you think about this for a bit you can't help but wonder 'whatever did we do before Porta-Crappers'!
Take care, my friends. Life is great!
Lee Texas WeatherWhen someone starts talking about Texas weather, the first thing you must do is find out what part of the state he is representing. Now, that's has nothing to do with 'bragging rights' or the like. You can find just about any kind of weather within the State of Texas. Just depends on where one is standing.
Living in the Fort Worth-Dallas area we are, at present, enjoying some cool weather for a change. Well, that actually depends on whether you consider 91 or 92 daytime temperature 'cool'. For us is surely is. Actually, we consider that temperature "tolerable"! I've heard or read of various ways to describe weather in different parts of the country. But, the best description that I've heard doesn't have that much to do with the actual temperature since the level of humidity plays a very large part on the 'comfort zone' of people. And that description simply describes the weather as either "tolerable" or "intolerable". It kind of describes whether you move from air conditioned space to air conditioned space, or heated space to . . . . well, you get the point.
As I age my "comfort zone" has changed from, say, when I was teenager or in my twenties. I could work/play out in the high heat/humidity and never really give it much thought. But, the older I get the less tolerant I am. I don't know, maybe it's just because I know I don't have to work in it any longer. I can remember all too well travelling around in a company car, or an airplane with air conditioning, but when I got up from my seat, my backside would be wringing wet with sweat!
Anyway, my favorite place to be in the summer (without leaving Texas, that is) would have to be out in the Davis Mountains near Big Bend National park. It is such a beautiful area, and high enough in the mountains that it never really gets uncomfortible. That's in the summer. Now, in the winter, where you don't want to be is up in the panhandle area. That's the only place that I've ever been where my windshield washer solution (full strength) froze solid.
Enjoy, for what it's worth.
L e e Living Well, Living Long
Well, here I am posting in my blog again. I don’t know how much, or for how long, but I’m going to leave that door open for those times that I have a surge in energy. (LOL) Anyway, I had a little accident a couple of weeks ago, and bruised or cracked several ribs. Doc said there was nothing they could do but give me a Rx for some pain pills. I took one on the day it happened, one-half of one the next day, and have just been taking aspirin ever since. I find the aspirin is more effective, and I don’t have to walk around ‘spaced out’! So, there I was. . . . up on a step ladder, using a broom to try to knock some of the pine needles off the roof of my one-story house. Needless to say, I reached too far and the ladder went out from underneath me. On the way down, it’s amazing how fast things cross your mind. The first was that there was nothing to grab hold of to break my fall. The second thing that crossed my mind was “Oh, s-hucks, this ain’t gonna be good! (Or maybe there were some other words that I used – can’t remember.) In any case, gravity had challenged me, and I lost! Maybe things like these happen just to refresh our memories that when we do stupid things, HE is willing to give us another chance to count our blessings. That is, once we get past the indignity of doing something stupid, and have had a chance to regain our composure! (LOL) So, yep, getting older is the only way to live a long life! It helps to stay off ladders, too. Cheers, my friends. L e e West Texas Cowgirl  Recently my wife and I returned from a few days in Southwest Texas. This is our most favorite 'retreat'. Sparsely populated, but you will find a lot of very nice folks out there. This is also the land of the very old, large ranches - many that are still owned and operated by descendants of the original ranchers. If you met one of these ranchers on the street, you probably would never know that he/she ranches a few hundred thousand acres. And, by all means, I point out that several of these are owned/operated by women. I know of one that is owned/operated by three women who share the same last name. I'm not sure how that breaks down.
Having been born/raised in the country, it always feels like home whenever I do get back there. On the other hand, my wife was born/raised in Chicago and has never lived anywhere but a city. Try as I did, I could never get her to move to even a small town. But, she admittedly enjoys living here in Texas, and enjoys going with me on my excursions. However, when she is along we have always had to stay at a resort or hotel. This year, and for a change, I convinced her to stay out on a ranch that I knew had a guest cabin.
So, yes, once you leave the road there are several cattle gates to open/close before getting the ranch HQ and guest cabin. And, yes, there were cattle in the pastures.
As a reference I mention that we were in my red (maroon) pick-up truck. After stopping and unlocking the first gate, and driving through, and subsequently stopping to go back and close/lock the gate, my wife decided that she could do that so I wouldn't have to get out of the truck on both sides of each gate. She got the hang of it pretty good. But, whenever we stopped by one of the gates, she noticed that the "cows" we're starting to move over towards us, and thought that 'greeting' was kinda nice. That was I informed her that, first of all, those weren't cows. They weren't even steers! They were a herd of 'young boys' that had been separated from the cows. Then she became worried because we were in a "red" truck. "They don't like red, do they?". So, then I told her that they cared less what color the truck was, and were coming over because they thought we were bringing a load of hay for them to feed on!
After than, she didn't waste any time opening/closing the gates. Then I told her that using the term a bit loosely, she would now qualify as a "cowgirl". Or maybe a "bull" girl. Anyway, I promised to buy her a hat next chance!
I really have to credit her though. She (we) did so thoroughly enjoy those few days on that ranch. We were hardly in to it before she was already making plans, not for next Christmas, but for this coming spring. The only comment to her that I made was "see what I've been talking about all these years?"
 From our front door we could see McDonald Observatory on top of the mtn.
Cheers, Y'all
L e e
My Year BookA bit early for New Year's Day, but I won't have a chance to post it between now and then.
My Year Book
The Master gave a "book" to me,
with pages pure and white;
And then He said, "Most carefully
Upon it you must write.
No blot shall mar a single page
Of such a volume fair;
Each word you write will always stay
Forever entered there."
For 12 brief months the "book" was mine.
And then He came once more;
To give a new one all unsoiled,
As He had done before.
He took the "book" away from me,
Although I begged of Him
For just a moment more of time -
I'd fill it to the brim.
With effort to correct a page,
To cancel each bad spot;
But opportunity was gone,
Old years cannot be bought.
A new year lies before me now,
Its pages clean and white;
"Dear Lord", I cry, "Oh, take my hand
and guide me as I write."
Happy New Year, my friends
L e e The old "ring down" telephone
This story is not a part of my "Memoirs", but is a memory never-the-less. Recently I read a very well written article about the experiences someone had as a very young boy talking to that 'voice on the other end' of an old wall mounted telephone. That story brought back so many memories for me that I could have written the story myself. If you wish to read it (and trust me, it will touch you!) then click on (sorry, the link is no longer active or was moved). From earlier blog entries you would know that I not only grew up on a farm in central Illinois, but I was born on that farm. We had one of those wall mounted telephones with the hand crank ringer on the side. We didn't have electricity so it was powered by two rather large batteries which were replaced annually, and then used to power an old radio until there was no life left in them. It was an amazing device. Very early on I knew that you could talk to (somebody or something) through it, but 'only if it was an emergency'. (Awesome! Hey brother, did you know we could talk to someone on that thing?) (Yeah, but only if it's and emergency!) (Let's watch what Mom does the next time she calls someone!) . Well, that time seemed to have never come. That telephone was more of a wall ornament than anything. Or we were always too busy doing something outside on those rare occasions someone did call or Mom called. As I continued to grow up, I began to know more and more about that telephone. I found out that because of where our farm was located between two towns that we could call either town 'operator' - one long ring for one town phone switchboard, or two for the other towns' switchboard operator. We could find out all sorts of things from either 'operator' like the time of day (needed because someone let the old wind-up clock run down) to what movie was being shown at the community house on Saturday night. Or maybe "is anything going on at the high school tonight"? Always a source for local information. Once when we were concerned about a neighbor (whom we hadn't seen out working his farm for several days) we called the 'operator' to see if anyone knew anything of him only to be told "yes, I saw him down at the blacksmith shop, or hardware store earlier today", or some such. Everyone around locally new the 'operator' by name in either town. She was usually a single lady, and she lived there in the telephone office. We always knew that if she didn't answer our 'ring' right away that she was doing some chore in her 'house' and would answer momentarily. In an emergency all that was needed was to call the 'operator' and tell her what the emergency was. She would take care of calling whomever was necessary. (Operator, there are some cows out down the road from me. They must belong to the Rademakers down the road a ways.) (O.K. I'll call around and see if I can find out who they belong to, and get someone out after them). Anyway, I guess those days are gone for good. Friendly neighbors. Friendly telephone operators. My paternal grandfather and friends and neighbors formed a community "Co-op" back in the early 1900's for the purpose of putting in a telephone system in that farm community. They purchased all the material needed, set telephone poles, strung up telephone wire, and, in effect formed a local telephone company encompassing the two towns. It was never intended to be a profitable venture. From the early 1900's to about 1975 or 1980, they never collected a penny over and above actual cost. But, they hadn't allowed for modernizing the equipment either. So, by this time (1975-80) the equipment badly needed updating. Almost no one from the original "co-op" was alive any longer. The two towns got their heads together and came in to agreement that the best thing they could do would be to merge with a big phone company that would completely update the entire phone system within the co-op. And that was when a problem arose. After recovering all their expenditure, the big phone company started making a profit from this little co-op community. As it turned out, my oldest brother was apparently the oldest living descendant of our grandfather. He was presented with a check for something like $68.00 which the big telephone company was required to pay. Grandfather had a lot of descendants so splitting a check of that sum 35 or 40 ways compounded by generations (if all can be located) creates a problem. My brother, in his wisdom, established a fund with the local florist. That florist then in turn places flowers on the graves of our grandparents annually - from now till (?) . Blessings, my friends L e e Growing Up in the 40's & 50'sWhen I started writing my memoirs over two years ago, I started to recall things that I hadn't thought about in a very long time. I hadn't delved into it very far before I realized a problem that hadn't occurred to me that I would have.
The problem is that so many things that I experienced early on living on a farm just no longer applies. It just no longer exists. Life on a farm has evolved so much from when I was a kid that farm kids of today currently living on a farm or ranch have absolutely no idea what I'm even talking about. Current economics are such that they never have and never will experience so many of the things that I did. I think they would find it hard to believe. I have mixed feelings about these things. I have always wanted my offspring to have a better life than I did, and to not have to go through so many of the hardships that I endured. But, the older I get, the more I wonder 'with progress, what are we giving up, what are we losing?' And, is it really worth it?
I remember early on when we still farmed with horses. Oh, not me, I was too young. We didn't have a farm tractor yet, or even electricity. No indoor plumbing. Still used a 3 - holer outhouse! (complete with Sears or Montgomery Wards catalog. The index pages were the softest). All of the farming was done Monday through Saturday, absolutely never on Sunday.
But, it was never boring for us kids. Born and raised there, we grew up learning how to amuse ourselves without the advantage of other kids. Lots of playing cowboys and bad guys with home made toy guns. Or one of my favorite things was to make toy airplanes - until I discovered that you could buy model airplanes in a kit from one of the stores at the county seat. And then I started building model race cars. One day I came up with the idea of mounting one of my solid fuel rocket motors onto a race car that I had just built. I lit the fuse, and that model car took off much faster than I ever imagined - and disintegrated when it hit the wall. I think my mother was ready to give me up for adoption about then!
Without electricity, we had no refrigerator or deepfreeze. So, we butchered our own livestock, and 'salt cured' the meat for storage. So, when hunting season came around it was a real treat for us to 'bag' some wild game. I don't remember how old I actually was when I first started hunting with a gun. All of us at some point had to go through a learning process where we had to walk along with adults a year or two before we were entrusted with a gun.
Back then, hunting for wild game was a means of contributing to the dining room table. When hunting became a sport was also when I stopped hunting. But, by then we finally had electricity installed, bought a refrigerator and deep freeze (and a farm tractor!), and the need for fresh wild game was no longer a necessity.
We knew all of our neighbors very well, and they us. So, when we (kids) wandered around we soon got to know just about every inch of ground for at least a mile radius. In one area we used to walk out to where a natural spring surfaced. It was a great place for a kid to while away some time. Out on the backside of our property was an old hardly ever maintained dirt road that only the locals used to harvest a crop, or to move livestock from one pasture to another. Sometimes that old road got more use after dark than it did during the daytime.
One day my brother and I had gone back to the old one lane bridge on that old road - another great place for a kid to amuse himself. Then we started walking that old road working our way (in a very roundabout way) back home. We came across about a half case of beer in the tall grass beside the road. Just in case someone should come back for it, we moved it, and stashed it under the old bridge. You know, I don't really remember what happened to it after that. (hehehe) (Actually, that is the truth. We knew we were much too young to be drinking it. )
Many Blessings, friends
Lee
My Early YearsNext Installment of my Memoirs I grew up in an old two story house in central Illinois that in the winter, once the old coal kitchen stove burned out at night, it was also the end of our heat for the rest of the night. So, it was a rule of necessity that everyone had to sleep with someone else. And, since there were eight kids in our family, that wasn't a problem - especially since we had a limited number of beds. I remember some of those winter nights it being so cold that we didn't dare get up until we knew our Mother had the old cookstove blazing away. The living accomodations during the winter months was limited to a large kitchen where we also had our meals, and the bedrooms which were upstairs. As a young boy, I spent a lot of my time in a 'play area' which was directly behind the stove. Whenever any of my brothers and I began to get 'cabin fever' we would head for the hayloft in the barn. There we would have moved all the hay bales to one end of the hayloft, and put up a basketball goal on the opposite end. That wouldn't have gotten us a warm place to play basketball, but it did give us a level surface with which to play on out of the cold wind. We'd play basketball until our hands got so cold that we would have to go back to the house and warm up. (Have you ever tried to play basketball with gloves on? LOL). Several years later after several of my older brothers moved out and on their own, we finally had enough room (bedrooms) for me to have one all to myself. It was about then that I started repairing old radios in my room just for the experience (hey, we didn't have TV's or PC'S yet!). As word got around, friends and neighbors used to give me their old radios. I would take parts from one to make others work. But, late in the evenings I had one old radio that was especially good at 'pulling' radio broadcasts from distant places. I used to lie awake just looking for a new distant radio broadcast and dream about what it must have been like where it was being broadcast from. I don't remember all of them any longer, but a few were "WWL" which was broadcast from on top of a hotel in New Orleans; Or maybe "WLAC" (?) which was broadcast from Galatin, Tennesee (outside of Memphis, I think); WBAP was from Fort Worth; "XERF" from Del Rio, Texas. Sometimes I could also pick up a radio station from Schenectady, N.Y. Ah, well, I guess that is what memories are made from.
Blessings, friends L e e That Darned Rooster !An excerpt from my memoirs, second installment.
That Darned Rooster !
I was born on a farm (literally) in central Illinois. I was the seventh in a family eight. Three boys, then two girls, and then three more boys. Back then a large family was necessary for the operation of a farm. As the oldest siblings matured and subsequently left the farm (as fast as they could), the younger ones became old enough to fill the shoes left by an older sibling.
Saying that our operation was just the normal farm no longer exemplifies our situation. Back then most or all farms raised beef, swine, poultry, sheep as well as hand milked a few cows, all in addition to crop farming. Oh, yes, we also raised plenty of barnyard cats. Cats were a must if you were to control the rodent population. And then, of course, was the farm dog. A well trained farm dog was nearly an absolute necessity. They could herd livestock, horses, or sheep so much easier and all with ease.
One of my earliest memories on that farm was of an old rooster that we had that just delighted in chasing me. I'm sure I was no more than maybe four or five at the time. I was scared to death of that rooster. Other family members would tell me to just pick up a stick and hit that rooster to make him stop chasing me! But, at that early age, I was terrified of him.
If I ventured out of the house, I tried always to have someone with me. But, one day, for whatever reason, I was trying to get out to the barn. And with no one available to go with me, I decided I'd chance staying out of sight of that old rooster. As I was about half way between the house and the barn, wouldn't you know, that darned rooster came running, almost flying out of the chicken house, and right at me. I froze in my tracks. I know I was yelling for anyone within earshot to come to my rescue, but, no one did.
Out of shear desperation, I looked around and saw a fairly good sized stick within reach of where I was standing. It was then that I remembered my siblings telling me to pick up a stick and hit that rooster. And, I reacted! Boy, did I ever. The first contact I made with that stick, I hit that old rooster in the head and stopped him in his tracks! All that I knew was that he wasn't chasing me, and I ran as fast as I could back to the house.
Then, after recapping all the events, I began to realize just what had happened, and that I had STOPPED that rooster!
I'm guessing that after I got through shaking, or maybe even the next day, I found myself another stick - and I went looking for that old rooster. I no longer remember if I ever caught up with that rooster or not, but I do remember having chicken (rooster?) for Sunday dinner soon after.
Lee Moments That I CherishIn an earlier blog, I indicated that I would publish some excerpts from memoirs. This is the first installment.
In 1966, I met who would become my wife when she was in school in Beaumont, Texas. Upon graduating, she returned to Chicago to fulfill a commitment she had made to her mother. After several months living/working in Chicago during a very cold and snowy winter, I finally convinced her that if we were to continue our relationship, she was going to have to return to Texas where I lived. She finally agreed indicating that I would have to drive up there to move her back to Texas. This normally would not have been any problem....except that my car happened to be a very small two seat Austin Healey sports car.
But, we were young, and love conquers all. I took a few days off from work to make an extra long weekend, and drove to Chicago. We stuffed her personal belongings and anything else that we could back behind the seat in the area normally reserved for a trunk (Austin Healey's didn't have a trunk). Everything that we couldn't get into the car, we strapped on the rear of the car and headed for Texas. I'm sure we must have looked like something out of the movie "The Great Race" where they carried all their spare parts and luggage wherever they could fasten it down.
There were several different routes that can be taken from Chicago to Beaumont,Texas. I have absolutely no idea why we chose to travel U.S.Highway 51 that runs more or less down through the middle of Illinois, into and through Kentucky, and then in to Tennessee. Since this trip took place back in 1966, I also don't remember just what freeways/interstates were available. But, our plans were to take this Hwy 51 to Memphis where we would cross over the Mississippi River and continue to Texas.
Everything was going well, and pretty much to plan. By nightfall we had entered Tennessee, and had hoped to make it to Memphis before stopping for the night. But, soon after entering Tennessee we passed through a police roadblock - a couple of inmates had escaped from a prison and they were checking vehicles. (One glance at us and they knew we certainly didn't have room for anyone else!)
Then, several miles further down the road on that pitch black moonless night I heard a sudden rush of all the radiator coolant draining. I knew it had to be serious to lose all the coolant that fast. Immediately the engine temperature started rising, so I pulled of the highway. There we were .... out somewhere, no flashlight, and not a light of any kind in sight! My next thought was of how far from that roadblock had we come as I certainly wasn't looking forward to facing a couple of escaped inmates.
My heavens was it dark out there! I couldn't see ten feet. The only light that I had was a cigarette lighter (remember those?). I had no idea what I was going to do next when before long this old black gentleman and his family happened along, and going our way. I don't remember if I flagged him down, or he just took mercy on us and stopped, but it was a blessing! So I explained what had happened, and that without a flashlight, I had no idea what the problem was. He suggested we get some water and pour it in the radiator to see where it was coming out. I asked how far we'd have to go to get that water. He replied that we could get it at that barn that was just across the fence from where we were! I hadn't seen any barn, and still didn't even after he said that. But he dug through the stuff he had in the trunk of his car and came up with a rather beat up old bucket. After getting the water, we poured it into the radiator, but it drained out as fast as we poured it in.
By this time my thoughts were only of getting my future wife and her belongings to safety, so that I could attempt to get repairs made on the car. Well, the old black gentleman offered to tow me in. I asked if he knew where and how far he was planning to tow us when he remarked that we were at the very outer edge of a town, and that there was a truck stop just on the other side of town. Not having seen any lights at all, I began to wonder if he knew what he was talking about, but decided that since he knew about the water at the barn that I didn't see, I would trust his judgement. And, again he rummaged through the trunk of his car and came up with some sort of strap (the stuff he carried around in his trunk was awesome) and towed me into the truck stop.
We had no more than pulled into that truck stop when a couple of truckers came over to see what the problem was. We decided to get more water, and with light that a trucker supplied, determined that a coolant drain plug on the back of the engine had vibrated out, and was obviously lost somewhere back on the road. Now, I knew that little English car used Metric sizing, so my thoughts were 'where the heck am I going to find a Metric plug that would fit when one of the truckers went back over to his truck and started digging through his spare parts. He did find a plug that was Metric and did fit!
I have so many times thought about this situation over the years. How was it that that old black gentleman and his family just happen to be passing by then. How was it that a trucker had a Metric plug in his American made truck (that only used standard SAE sizes).
I was near desperation that night. I was so fearful for my soon to be wife. But, the one thing I'm now sure of is that we had a guardian angel looking after us that evening. I don't think it was just 'luck' that the old black gentleman and his family just happened along that late at night. And how was it that the trucker just happened to have the exact metric size plug in his truck tool box?
I thanked those truck drivers, and the old black gentleman and his family from the bottom of my heart. I offered to pay them, but none would accept a single cent. I didn't get their names, but perhaps one day I will be able to thank them again. Oh, and by the way, my wife and I are still married - forty two years later.
Yep, it looked just like this one! I wish I had it back. It would be worth a lot of money now.
Trust in the Lord.
Lee
My MemoirsMy Memoirs
What a dilemma I'm in!
The first thing is - I never expected so many people (friends) would be interested in my memoirs. I am so honored. Thank you dear friends. I'm so amazed that I haven't gotten past the 'awe' yet. My life has not really been all that interesting. Or maybe it is best described as boredom interspersed with moments of sheer terror. The problem is, I'm really unable to elaborate on much of the 'sheer terror'. It's just best that way.
In my 'Forward' I pointed out that there are things or incidents that are best left unsaid. I think most everyone has one or two of those (or more). I'm no exception. Memoirs should be nothing short of the truth, and not a fiction novel. I strove for that - as I saw it. And that is as it should be. An incident viewed at the same time by several people will produce several different viewpoints. (I wonder how the police sort that out after interviewing several different people. The newspaper reporters don't seem to get it right.)
When writing a book, memoirs, or any article, you are directing it toward a specific reader. Memoirs are usually directed to one's family, and perhaps lifelong friends, and, of course, your offspring. This was the course that I took because of the references to incidents that occurred years ago that only family/close friends would remember or be interested in.
However, I do want to point out that I have posted some of the funnier, or more notable incidents in this blog , or that of my other 'space' you can reach by clicking here , (and then just scroll down). Remember I've been working on my memoirs for about two years so you will need to go back a ways. As soon as I get organized, I'm going to transfer some of the blog posts from my other 'space' to here.
In my other 'space' I wrote a post about about the incidents incurred when I moved my girlfriend (now wife) from Chicago back to Beaumont, Texas that I think would be interesting. For clarification of the 'back to Beaumont, Texas, this is where I lived when I met her while she was finishing college. I do want to thank "Kimmie" for confirming my memories of an incident in 'her town' on that trip. (See Kimmie in 'friends' list.)
I also thank and acknowledge Cathy (friends list -" Everyday is Wednesday") for the beautiful poetry that she wrote for me and I included. Cathy has been one of my very best virtual friends for several years. I'm always in awe of how wonderfully she can translate everyday into beautiful poetry.
So, at this point, I'm just taking a break. I'm also checking out resources for getting this thing printed up. I have used my own office equipment to print up two copies for my own use. (Wow, does that ever use up the ink!)
Secondly, I may have to wait until I win the lottery before I can have my memoirs printed up - or else I'm going to have to take out all the full color pictures and clip art . Wow, does that ever run the price up! Also, I may have to print up two versions - one for family, and one for friends. But, I'm not certain that will work.
Thanks to all my many friends. You have really made me sit up and go - WOW!
Lee
Forty-Five Lessons of LifeEvery so often, I receive something in my email that arouses enough interest in me to research it . . . or the person that wrote it. When I researched this lady, Regina Brett of The Plain Dealer, Cleveland, Ohio, I discovered a lot more than I had ever expected. This lady is nothing short of awesome! Among many other awards, she was a finalist for the 2008 Pulitzer Prize for Commentary. Several of the columns that she writes for The Plain Dealer have also been submitted for Pulitzer Prize consideration. I'm sure we all will hear more of this lady in the future.
So, what follows was written by her, Regina Brett of The Plain Dealer in Cleveland, Ohio.
To celebrate growing older, I once wrote the forty-five lessons life taught me. It is the most requested column I've ever written. My odometer rolls over to 50 (in August of 2006), so here goes:
1. Life isn't fair, but it's still good.
2. When in doubt, just take the next small step.
3. Life is too short to waste time hating anyone.
4. Don't take yourself seriously. No one else does.
5. Pay off your credit cards every month.
6. You don't have to win every argument. Agree to disagree.
7. Cry with someone. It's more healing than crying alone.
8. It's OK to get angry with God. He can take it.
9. Save for retirement starting with your first paycheck.
10. When it comes to chocolate, resistance is futile.
11. Make peace with your past so it won't screw up the present.
12. It's OK to let your children see you cry.
13. Don't compare your life to others. You have no idea what their journey is about.
14. If a relationship has to be a secret, you shouldn't be in it.
15. Everything can change in the blink of an eye. But don't worry; God never blinks!
16. Take a deep breath. It calms the mind.
17. Get rid of anything that isn't useful, beautiful or joyful.
18. Whatever doesn't kill you really does make you stronger.
19. It's never too late to have a happy childhood. But the second one is up to you and no one else.
20. When it comes to going after what you love in life, don't take no for an answer.
21. Burn the candles, use the nice sheets, wear the fancy lingerie. Don't save it for a special occasion. Today is special.
22. Over prepare, then go with the flow.
23. Be eccentric now. Don't wait for old age to wear purple.
24. The most important sex organ is the brain.
25. No one is in charge of your happiness except you.
26. Frame every so-called disaster with these words: "In five years, will this matter?"
27. Always choose life.
28. Forgive everyone everything.
29. What other people think of you is none of your business.
30. Time heals almost everything. Give time time.
31. However good or bad a situation is, it will change.
32. Your job won't take care of you when you are sick. Your friends will. Stay in touch.
33. Believe in miracles.
34. God loves you because of who God is, not because of anything you did or didn't do.
35. Don't audit life. Show up and make the most of it now.
36. Growing old beats the alternative - - dying young.
37. Your children get only one childhood. Make it memorable.
38. All that truly matter in the end is that you loved.
39. Get outside every day. Miracles are waiting everywhere.
40. If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else's, we'd grab ours back.
41. Envy is a waste of time. You already have all you need.
42. The best is yet to come.
43. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up, and show up.
44. Yield.
45. Life isn't tied with a bow, but it's still a gift.
And there you have it, with all due respect to Regina Brett. What insight this lady has.
I invite you to visit her website where you can read of some of her accomplishments: http://www.reginabrett.com/
Further information can be found at email: library@plaind.com Or you can contact her direct: rbrett@plaind.com
Oh, and did I mention that she is also a breast cancer survivor?
Enjoy, my friends, and Blessings all.
Lee Memoirs - Finished At Last!Memoirs - Finished At Last
I'm not really sure when I conceived the idea of writing my memoirs, but I know that I have been working on them for at least two years (off and on). I suspect that my sister planted the idea several years ago when she kiddingly commented that maybe I should write a book about my life. Seems she thought it would make interesting reading. Personally I don't think so. I've just tried to take each day as it comes and handle it the best I knew how.
Not having done anything like this before, I did some research in to 'how' 'why' etc. that I should write about. Then after I started writing it, I went back and researched a lot more. Perhaps if I had done more research before starting, I might not have started in the first place. But, once started, and with encouragement from my daughter-in-law, I made the determination to complete it. But, you say, how does one complete their memoirs - and still be alive? Well, that determination wasn't that hard to make. When you can't think of anything else to write about, you just type "THE END" ! LOL.
So, for anyone contemplating writing their memoirs, let me pass on some tips - information that I gleaned from research that I found to be right on target!
"Be prepared for a complex journey of self-discovery and soul-searching. Memoir writing can be a therapeutic and beneficial experience, but it is emotionally exhausting. And it will demand emotional honesty and bravery". I found this to be very true! You really have to reach deep within you to find that interesting aspect with which to write about. There are any number of things with which to write about. It's a perfect time to make amends with someone. I read of one person who had had a very difficult relationship with the father. That person couldn't write anything of the father while he was living as it probably would have been too intrusive or impertinent. But, after his death, and the heart was healed or right, that person could and did write of the father.
Your memoirs are not an autobiography, in fact they are pretty far from them. Also, one cannot imagine how different it is to write about the real . . . and the unreal. You are, in effect, communing with your significant dead, and this is a very exhausting thing. Not unpleasant, but still hard work. Once you stray from the real you may as well call it a novel rather than your memoirs.
Unfortunately study material is difficult to come by as memoirs are usually of most interest to family, relatives, and close friends - people who you have known, and have known you for large part of your life. You are not going to be able to go to your local library for much reference material.
If you are truly interested, you might start with this site.
Don't be the least surprised if you re-write every chapter several times. One of the first things that I did was to go back correct facts as best I could. Even later I added more material that I would remember. One of the last things that I did was to go back to correct my English and punctuation (in case my old English teacher was still around!). And my wife proofread it a couple of times.
I haven't printed it up yet but my daughter-in-law has said she is first in line. But, I have a great niece that has known that I've been working on this since the beginning, and she also has spoken for the first complete copy. Actually, I've been kidding my sons that I just might wait until I have CRS (what? you don't know what that is? It's "Can't remember s _ _ t" before I distribute it.
Enjoy, friends. Before long I'll be back to normal! LOL
Blessings to all
Lee
Whitewater RaftingWhitewater Rafting
You probably couldn't help but notice the whitewater rafting pictures above, and I want to impress upon you that if you haven't done it, you really don't know what you are missing! My kids and I (when they and I were younger) used to go hiking/camping/backpacking quite a bit. We've hiked/camped some of the most beautiful areas of this country, and will have those memories forever. Quite often we camped/hiked near a river where whitewater rafting was popular. In the back of my mind was the thought that I really wanted to try that one day, but kept putting it off for one reason or another.
About twenty years ago, my family, their spouses, and all the kids and I started going out to a resort near Almont, Colorado (between Gunnison and Crested Butte). WOW! This place was awesome! You could really go all out in any outdoor sport that you wanted. I've never been much in to fishing, so after those who wanted left to go fishing, several of the rest of us would go hiking, or just sightseeing. Or, we could just sit out front of our cabin and watch the kayakers and whitewater rafters pass by (and the occasional empty kayak! LOL). For one week we were in bliss!
I don't remember ever mentioning that I wanted to try whitewater rafting , but I apparently I did at some point. So, since my birthday falls in July, and specifically during the time we were there in Colorado, my boys made reservations for me to go rafting! They knew that I was apprehensive about going - you know - doing something that I had never done before.
So, I went whitewater rafting for the first time. My sons and DILs came along 'to make sure I went!' It was awesome! I had more fun and enjoyment that I wondered why I hadn't done it before. Since then, we have gone every year. We even go whenever we go out to West Texas. (They whitewater raft down through the canyons on the Rio Grande River on the West side of Big Bend National Park. If you go there, they put in at a town called Lajitas, Texas which is right at the mouth of the canyons.)
I have always enjoyed hiking and backpacking, but then I could add whitewater rafting to that. So, yeah, if you ever get the opportunity, don't pass it up. It is so much fun. But, go with a river guide. He/she will keep you out of trouble. Up on the Taylor River in Colorado where we used to go I saw a family that had purchased a large raft and attempt to raft down the Taylor on their own. They only made it about 300 yards before rupturing their raft, and having to swim to shore. And let me tell you, that water was snow just a couple of days before.
They are mostly memories now. But, oh, what memories!
Cheers to all, my good friends
Lee
(Oh, yeah. I'm not in this raft pic. Someone had to take the pics! lol. But, my grandson is seated nearest the left leg of the river guide)
Mockingbirds (Mimus polyglottos)Spring.........in Texas! I do so love this time of year. The weather is awesome, temperatures are warming interspersed with a cool day now and again, and the birds are busy hunting material with which to build a nest. And the songs being sung by the different species is more audible now than any other time of year.
But the all time leader of song has to go to the Mockingbird. Especially in the spring the male Mockingbird is in fine tune in his attempt to lure a mate. The Mockingbird has such a large repertoire of songs to sing. No other bird can come close to equaling the Mockingbird. The songs of as many as 40 other birds has been recorded from one Mockingbird. And, if that is not enough, they have been known to 'mock' the sounds of a barking dog, cackling hens, and whistling. They continue to learn new sounds throughout their lives.
There are few things in life that I enjoy more than having coffee out on my patio in the morning while listening and watching the Mockingbirds perform, or listening to the cardinal sing, and watch the robins searching for food.
It appears that the Mockingbirds get so excited when they perfect a sound, or learn a new one that they dance on the power lines or fence top in glee. And it seems they know when I'm about because their song is continuous albeit loud. It's like they are putting on a performance just for me. All their imitations are repeated three or more times.
Besides for their song, they are great to have around for their apetite for insects. Of course, they also like fruit, so owners of fruit trees or a vegetable garden would just as soon they were somewhere else. However, when a mockingbird and its' mate share a clutch of eggs, the can be fiercely protective from anything they feel a threat. I have seen them dive or swoop down at a cat or dog, and have heard they (and bluejays) would also do the same to people. But, I can honestly say that neither species has ever made a pass at me. I'm not sure if it is because they see me often, and don't feel I'm a threat, or what. I know my Siamese cat rarely ventures into the back yard when bluejays or mockingbirds are nesting.
Mockingbirds are found throughout North America except the far North of Canada. But, they have become the State bird in Arkansas, Florida, Mississippi, Tennessee, and, of course, my home state of Texas. In the springtime, only the male mockingbird is vocal wheras later in the year the female is the more vocal. It is nearly impossible to distinguish between the male and female in song. It is said that the female has a 'softer' or slightly quieter song.
A few years back, my wife and I were camping in Palo Duro Canyon (near Amarillo, TX). Everything was as good as it gets, we had our
tents up and were settling in for the night. I did manage to go right to sleep but only for a short while. Next thing that I knew there was a mockingbird (it sounded like he was perched right on our tent) serenading us like there was to be no tomorrow! Now, at one or two o'clock in the morning, it was just a bit much! I finally had to get up, locate a couple of rocks and threw them at the nearest tree that I suspected it was in, to chase it off so I could get some sleep. It must have the right tree, thank God!
Have a great weekend.
Lee
The Butterfield Overland Mail Service (and Stagecoach)This is a follow-up to the article of the same title that I wrote (below).
After having written the original article, I continued to research out of curiosity. I guess mainly because there really isn't just a great deal of information available that can be authenticated. I have found a lot of bits and pieces - probably notes from someone that rode the stagecoach from/to intermediate points. But, finally, I was able to get my hands on probably the only authenticated source of information that covers the entire Southern route from St. Louis to San Francisco.
A Mr Waterman L. Ormsby, a reporter for the then New York Herald, rode the very first stagecoach from St. Louis all the way to San Francisco, documenting it as he went. This first trip started out from St. Louis around the middle 1856. As Mr Ormsby was able, he sent his documentation back to the Herald Newspaper who, in turn, published it in September, October and November of 1856, and was later put into book form. This book is quated from nearly exclusively.
I've run across several anecdotes expressed by some of the passengers that- on the one had I have to think "God, what they must have had to endure", and on the other hand I had really good laugh!
As the stagecoach/mail service proved itself, more and more passengers were opting to travel by stagecoach. It became commonplace for the stagelines to 'oversell' seats. On some routes there were probably as many people riding on top as there were inside the coach. It was not at all uncommon to have as many as twelve people in/on the coach. Now, keep in mind, the stagecoaches used to run day and night. There was no place with which to lie down. You simply sat up in your seat and slept as best you could. However, it is said that if a seated passenger did fall asleep - and fell forward - he probably lost his seat to someone standing!
Another comment made by a passenger after travelling many days was "no matter how bad you imagine this trip could be - it is worse!" Mr Ormsby was a bit more optimistic. He noted that the scenery was very rewarding. But, then, he had the coach to himself. He was also from NYC. And he rode the steamship back to NYC - even though it took longer!
Blessings, my friends
Lee
The Butterfield Overland Mail (and Stagecoach)The Butterfield Overland Mail (and Stagecoach)
Here in Texas, I live in, or very near a community that was once known as "Tate Springs" whose origins go back to around the middle 1800's or earlier. You won't find it on any current map. It no longer exists by that name even though most residents in the area that have been here any length of time still know it as such. Historical records describe it as "a Baptist encampment, and school". Tate Springs cemetery still exists. Tate Springs Baptist church still stands there and is very active in the area, and the school is also. The latter two have gone through many transformations over the years. I, myself, have lived here well over thirty years and my offspring, including a grandson, all went to this elementary school.
I have always known or heard that this area was also a stop on the Butterfield Overland Stage Lines, as were so many other places here in Texas. I discovered that the town of Fort Davis out in the Davis Mountains of west Texas was also on the stagecoach route. And further, on hiking trips in the Guadalupe Mountains National Park I learned of a place within the park that was known as "The Pinery" that, too, was a stop.
Located at Fort Davis, Texas
Over the years, I have often wondered about where the 'stagecoach' went, and particularly, where did the route that passed thru "Tate Springs" come from/go to. Other than all the hype that was portrayed in the old Western movies, which carry little or no authenticity, not a great amount of information has been available without doing some serious research, something I have often aspired to do - but just never got around to - until recently.
I have now done so much research that I no longer remember even how I started! What I do know is that the results have brought about some very surprising results to me. It's not what I had envisioned. So, what follows can only be described as my summation.
First of all, the route these stagecoaches travelled was determined by the U.S. Post Office. These were mail routes first with the added capability of carrying a few fare paying passengers. Some coaches seated only four, some six. Sometimes seats were oversold (sounds familiar, doesn't it?) and those without a seat were allowed to either sit on the floor, or if they happened to be carrying a gun(s) they were asked to ride up on top as robberies were prevalent in different parts of the country.
The Post Office awarded the mail routes which consisted of getting the mail from point "A" to point "B". Some routes were short, some were long with mail stops in between. Essentially, the idea was to get the mail from East to West or back faster than by ship. So,the actual route between point "A" and point "B" was left to the operator of the stage lines. And what determined that really was determined by the availability of fresh water along the way. A "relay station" could only be established where there was water because their purpose was to provide fresh horses or mules that allowed the stage to continue on (after a short people break). The actual ground route changed occasionally necessitated by a water hole drying up (perhaps seasonally) or maybe becoming contaminated from a carcass, etc.
So, in effect, a 'route map' may have existed but only as a line drawn from point "A" to point "B". The actual ground route was probably a far cry from that 'straight line', and it varied as was necessary. My research focused on the Southwest, or the area encompassing all or parts of Oklahoma, Texas, and New Mexico. Butterfield Overland Mail had probably three major routes. One carrying mail from St Louis to San Francisco which I think consisted of a Northern route and Central Route. Because of the winter inconvenience, the Post Office opened up a Southern Route that they hoped would remain open year around. That did prove to be so, and the southern route thru Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and subsequently into California came in to being around September 1858. Mail was dispatched from both St. Louis and Memphis and united in Ft. Smith, Arkansas for points west.
The mail went through almost without exception in the twenty-five days allowed. Postage rate was ten cents per half ounce. Anyway, during my research I did find what a couple of the routes were. The problem is that many of the points mentioned no longer exist (by that name, anyway) such as "Tate Springs". The Pinery is no longer a spring, but a historical marker as are probably many others. What was known as Franklin, Texas is now known as El Paso! Below is one of the few maps that I've found that shows where basically the 'Southern Route' of the Butterfield Overland Mail Route traveled through Texas.
Another bit of information that I discovered was that all of this mail service by mail coach started somewhere in the middle 1850's. And it all came to an end very shortly after the beginning of the Civil War (early 1860's). Since the Confederacy was being supported by the Southern states which included Texas, and the mail routes were being financially supported by the U.S. Post Office, it became evident that support for all routes in the Southern sector was to come to an end.
At about the same time the railroads were making their presence felt, and mail contracts were subsequently being given to them. For a few years, there still were some mail contracts being let in to some remote areas of the country, but even those soon came to an end. To this day, I can take you to an area in Texas where freight is trucked in only when they have sufficient load.
I didn't really find out what I had set out to find, but the wealth of information that I uncovered was so interesting that I know I used up a lot more time that I ever thought I would have. The site that I used for most of my research has so many interesting links to follow that I found it hard to stop chasing them and to stick with my research.
For anyone that is wanting to research an ancestral name, an old town or village, the old ranches, local famous and infamous names, or any of many areas that I haven't yet researched but plan to, I give you the primary link below that I used. This site is continually updated as new information is discovered. So, I give credit to and highly recommend:
The Texas State Historical Association also credits the:
The University of Chicago (which was a focal point for much early history)
The University of Texas
and others as they have described on their site.
The Handbook of Texas Online is a project of the Texas State Historical Association
I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I have enjoyed researching it.
Blessings to all, my good friends
Lee
Old Farm BuildingsOld Farm Buildings
One of my hobbies is photographing old farm buildings. It's just one of those things that I have always thought was beautiful, and interesting. Sometimes while photographing them I have to just sit there and wonder what that old building could tell you if it could.
Located near Lincoln, Illinois (if still standing)
Growing up on a farm in Illinois many years ago, I know only too well how it was then.....yet I wonder how was it even before then. All the ups and downs, the years crops were good, the years they weren't; the years the livestock market was good, the years it wasn't.
My maternal grandparents were "Sooners" in the eighteen hundreds. They "homesteaded" in Oklahoma. They came over from Northern Germany seeking a new and better life. I don't think I can even come close to imagining what it must have been like for them. They could barely speak English, but, they had endured meeting each and every obstacle head on. But, what they had most of was will-power and determination. This is a tribute to them.
Mr & Mrs E.J. Luken
Ostrfriesland, Germany,
Edmund, Oklahoma
Emden, Illinois
R.I.P. They are 'home' now.
Cheers, to all my good friends
Lee Rico, ColoradoOur holiday in Colorado
The pictures showing now are of our recent holiday in Rico, Colorado. Now, you may not know where Rico, Colorado is but, if you know where Telluride, CO is on the map, then look about thirty miles Southwest and, if you have a good map (lol), you will see Rico. Rico is a small town or village that is at about 8,900 ft. altitude up in the moutains. It is not anywhere near as pricey as Telluride (yet), and the people living there live there mostly year around (I believe I could handle that!). But, the town is small enough that everyone is friendly, and everyone knows nearly everyone else.
I had a little problem with the tire chains on my car and couldn't make it all the way up to the cabin. So, with no cel phone service there, I managed to get to the one and only gas station/convenience store and call my son to come down and get us. The people at the convenience store were so kind and helpful offering to let me leave my car in their parking lot until we either got it up to the cabin, or left to come back home.
Anyway, it was great to get a week away. We got all our Christmas cards (yes, I said Christmas cards! Not "Seasons Greetings" cards!) finished. I took them to the local post office and asked the lady postmaster if she would use the local postmark on them. After giving me this 'song and dance' about bulk mail needing to go into a mail center probably in Denver, she informed that "of course" she would use a local cancellation on them! She was only too helpful!
 Merry Christmas to all, my good friends
Lee |
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