DID I EVER TELL YOU I HAD A BONNET?

It is Saturday morning, the weekend is here. Its 4:30 and "I" has gone out into the yard. I keep looking for her from the door but the darkness has swallowed her up. Somewhere out there she is looking,. looking for the white cat that comes to antagonize her. Laying just the other side of the fence, sending"I" into a barking frenzy. The white furry little creature knows "I" cannot get to her. After all this time "I" does not know this yet. This is sort of like what I do. Yap and bark at something I want or something I want to change, not stopping to realize I have been doing the same thing for years and it changes nothing. "I" and I are slow learners.


Please check out the photo that is at the top of the page Until several years ago I didn't know it existed, My Aunt Dora had it.. Until that time I never knew I ever had a bonnet.Now I'm not talking hats, everyone has a hat at sometime or another. I'm talking a honest to goodness bonnet. The kind like the pioneer women use to wear. I tell you I was quite pleased to see that I had at sometime in my life owned one. Now I can't really tell you just what thrilled me so about this but it did. Number one didn't I look cute. Really one shouldn't brag I know. But there I was stepping high in my little dress, wearing a bonnet. Now probably back in those days is what inspired me to become a stepper. Wearing that bonnet did it for sure.

This picture was taken probably about 1945. Mom of course in the middle. Bud the little fella in the overalls. He said Mom always made him wear overalls and he hated them. He said he made a vow when he grew up never to wear them again. Now that he is older he wears them much of the time. He says they are very comfortable. See how the years can change our minds about things.

I look with tenderness on this picture. It was taken by a street photographer. Mom said he stood downtown on the street and when people walked by he took their picture, got their address,. When they were developed he brought them to the house and you had the option to buy them. I'm glad Mom had the money to get this one. We three are immortalized forever, walking down Main. Who would have ever thought all these years later, I would sit down at a computer and print this to my blog page. "Computer," someone would have said. "What the heck is a computer?" if we could have only taken one of those steps we were taking into the future it would have been mind boggling.

Actually the last twenty-five years have been pretty amazing. There was computers twenty-five years ago but not like today. Or who would have ever believed in cell phones. That everyone would be running around with a phone stuck in their ear. Everywhere you look there are people with phones. Nobody worries about missing a call anymore. Your trusty phone right in your pocket. The problem sometimes is getting away from the phone calls.

Life was simpler back then. Main street was wonderful. You could wear your cotton dress, your Mom tie on your bonnet and go downtown. I know I am getting older because I look with such longing for those times, those days. Then I remember when we lived on Indiana street. We had no bathroom in the house. I was only about four but I remember Mom dragging the old tin tub into the kitchen on Saturday night for baths. No fans even, we didn't have one anyway. Though I am sure some folks did. No AC, the iceman brought ice to the door. And Mom kept a pan under the icebox to catch the drips as the ice melted. You had to empty that pan several times a day so it didn't over flow. So I have to admit to myself maybe the good ole days wasn't perfect either.

All of these memories so woven through my mind. I only wish I could remember the bonnet. I really wish I had one today. I'd wear it to a family function. My grandson wanted to know when I would dress age appropriate? I wonder if he'd like the bonnet. Maybe he would. I would like it better than the "Mau Mau" he suggested I wear. My poor kids and my grandkids. Talk about crosses to bear. I smile as I write. For surely I am all of theirs.

So as I we slide into Saturday I am hoping the rain stays away until later. As I am going to garage sales this morning. This of course is what I need more things. Tonight a Bowling Banquet. My grandson and his daughter Amber both get awards. Big morning, big evening. I am excited. I am getting out into the world today. So I hope you are doing exciting things too. I hope to see you later, for now I'm outta here.

I HAVE BECOME A SERMON.

Friday morning again. The weekend edging in on us. It is very early. I am waiting on the coffee. "I", for whatever reason will not go out. I open the front door, she stands at the edge, peering out into the darkness. As if she is seeing or hearing the unknown. She lays here now by my feet as if she is my gauardian. I sure do love my dog.

Yesterday once I hit the publish button on the Blog I started feeling a lttle guilty. Because no matter how I tried to joke around it. I was griping about my son. I griped because he called me a heathen. Griped because he didn't want me quoting scripture. Poor me. Poor Jer. Now I have written this for the world to see here on the Blog. Although I know very few see it. It still is spinning out there in cyber space, waiting to be read by the masses. And I had shown no Motherly compassion. I had written in a unfavorable light about my son. I felt as if the parent patrol would come revoke my license or something.

He called about 8:30.He was in his car, waiting for someone.Jer does not read my Blog, there was a good chance he'd never know. He said, "Good morning." In guilty haste I blurted, "I wrote about you on my Blog. If you have a minute I'll read it to you." At least I thought if he is really mad I can jerk it off the Blog and all will be well. I started reading it through. It sounded worse to my ears than when I had written it. I finished, he laughed. Laughter coming out of my son at one of my misdeeds he feels I lay upon his shoulders.

"Whats funny," I demanded. "When did you write this? Was it this morning?" he asked. "No, not really." I answered. "I wrote most of it yesterday evening and edited it and published it this morning." "Well," he said, "when I preached last night. I really preached hard on this person I had talked to and how they didn't go to church. And how they said God didn't lead them too. I really came down hard, then I said I wouldn't mention no names. Then I said, yes I will. It's my Mother."

Well if that wasn't a fine kettle of fish. Here I was raking myself over the coals for writing about him and he is using me for fodder for his sermon. Now not only am I a heathen, everyone in his church knows I am.

Well, I guess there is just some things you can't keep secret and it seems I am one of them. I started laughing too. At the very minute I was bent over the computer keys lamenting about the injustice that had been heaped upon on my head. He was in the pulpit lamenting about the cross he has to bear, his Mother.

Isn't life just plain funny sometimes. So if any lesson can be leatned from this, just in case you were wanting to learn a lesson. The point of view that is the right one, depends from what perspective you are looking at it from. From my perspective I had been the one who had been wronged, from his it was him. That just goes to show there is two sides to every story and depends on who you are listening too what side you will hear. I wrote mine, he preached his. I'm smiling now at the irony of it all. But for now, I will glide away and leave you here in Blog land. I am going off and thinking about who I might write about next. For now I'm outta here.

MY SON THE THEOLOGY STUDENT.

Here it is Thursday. "I" and I stayed in bed till five. I feel lazy. It is suppose to be nice today, then rain. I saw someone looking at the house next door yesterday. Maybe new neighbors soon. The dogs and I raced from window to door, from door to window, trying to see. If they knew the kooks(the dogs and I) that lived next door they would drive on fast and not look back.

I've talked on here many times about both my children I am proud of them both and love them both. They are different, I am sure I have mentioned that before too. Billie more serious, work driven, reliable. Jer more like me a dreamer. He's wandered off many times to follow those dreams. Four years ago he did a complete turn around with his life, quit drinking and any other things he might have been doing and started serving God. The last three years he has been in Bible college, studying to be a Minster. He works as a assistant Pastor at a church called the "Road." A church dedicated to helping people get back their life 's once they are off drugs. I never doubt one minute Jeremy has a true calling on his life. He has endured some hard times to be able to pursue this calling.

I think I have mentioned here before too that Jeremy thinks I am a heathen. This can be a little hard on someone who's trying, working hard to be a Minster. Nobody wants a heathen for a Mother, especially if you are wanting to be a Pastor, the two just don't jell together. And I have to confess sometimes I try to tease him by saying I have become, a Black, Muslim woman. Now of course he knows I'm not Black but he's a little worried about the Muslim part.

I carry it just a little farther, assuring him that all sorts of religions will be in Heaven, even Muslims. Poor Jer he gets really upset on that one. We go round and round about our belief's. Really if you look closely at this, we don't believe too much different from each other. I will say I probably am a little more Liberal. Thinking that the "Love thy neighbor," rule a little more important than any others after believing in God and his son.. Of course he is a Bible student, so the letter of the law. The law of the Church is what he believes. But what I try to point out to him is that we can all take one verse and interrupt it many different ways. I for one believe Salvation is easy. "John:3:16," you know it right? I think if you believe in God and accept his son, then you're in like Flynn. Of course it helps to treat others fair and square. Keep the Commandment's and read the Beatitudes. Those are what Jesus preached at "The Sermon on the Mount." There is eight of them and they are how Jesus taught we should live.

The problem I see we get into is that many churches preach Doctrine and forget about salvation. These are two very different things. The only problem Jer seems to have with me other than I am a heathen, is because I don't go to church, I should not quote scripture to him and act like I know the Bible. Well if you lived with my Mom for all those years and grew up going to church four or five times a week. You are going to learn the Bible. I had scripture quoted at me all my life. I know the Bible pretty well.
Of course he has studied it three years now. And I know he's getting it down solid. But I have my beliefs and I am afraid there will probably be no changing them. I'm sorry.

Jer is getting very astute on the Bible. he has giving his self to a calling he feels on his life. I am a woman who has made many, many, wrong turns in my life. I pale in comparison to him. As he respectably pointed out, he said it was being said respectably. That I had done nothing about my beliefs. He was trying to do something wth his. Touche, Jer, you are right. But the amazing thing that happens is called, "God's Love." It has even included a heathen like me.

I think we all go through life, steering our ship along. Jer has taken control of his ship. I am proud. I am sort of like the little dingy out there being tossed about. But thankfully I have on God's life jacket, thrown to me from the dock by my Mother, who taught me about God.

THE BEATITUDES



"Blessed are the poor in spirit,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are they who mourn,
for they shall be comforted.

Blessed are the meek,
for they shall inherit the earth.

Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
for they shall be satisfied.

Blessed are the merciful,
for they shall obtain mercy.

Blessed are the pure of heart,
for they shall see God.

Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they shall be called children of God.

Blessed are they who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven."


Gospel of St. Matthew 5:3-10

NORMAL IS A CYCLE ON A WASHING MACHINE.

4:00 in the morning, I'm waiting for the coffee. Another early day. Both dogs are outside and I still hear the quiet. Now if only the newspaper carrier will not slow down to throw the neighbors paper we'll be okay. "I" will go yap crazy if a car acts as if it might stop. I probably got four hours sleep last night so I am good to go for another day.

I have the last few days been reading others Blogs. At the top of the page it reads next Blog. So I have traveled over in Blog land to the next county. Checking out other's Blogs and what they are like. I am very envious of some. I love their art work, their layouts. I want to learn to make a fancy layout. There were a few plain Jane's like myself but for the most part they are beautiful and expressive, there is nothing expressive on mine. There is no art work that shows my personality adorning my page. Well maybe there is no art work that would show my personality, but heck I could try. I want to be fancy. That has become my battle cry.

One I stumbled across was very dark and foreboding. The name of the Blog was called,"Dark and Twisted." There was pictures I assume of himself that looked very dark and twisted. I don't want to try for dark and twisted. I defnately won't be trying to steal ideas from that one.

Another was called the "Amen Mom." Of course on first seeing it I assumed she was a preachers wife and a Mom to a Preachers children. I was wrong. She said on the Blog that her husband worried when she wanted to start a blog that she might use their name in someway and he didn't want that at all. So she used the first initals of each of their names, which happened to spell Amen, she added the Mom. Presto a cute witty title. I came across one that I don't remember the name but she had this quote, "Normal is a cycle on a washing machine." I rteally liked that one. Everybody seeking to be normal and it turns out being normal will only end up washing you at a fairly high speed and spinning you out. I knew I never wanted to be normal, now I know why.

Then I came across this great Blog, I got so into it that I didn't write the name down. The artwork was flawless. A woman from Austraila, I think. She had these great quotes and wrote about the wishes for her life. It was awesome. She told how she had written down three dreams for her life and put them under her matress. To dream on she said. To make them come true. I loved that idea. She had this one quote about worrying. I looked around, it would take too long to try to write down. Quickly I highlighted it and swung over to Blog land to paste it to a empty page. To come back today and steal it. Well I really wasn't going to steal it and use it as a orginal idea, just borrow it. When I tried to get back to the page it was gone, no title, no idea of how to get to it again. Then when I tried to go to the page I had pasted her words on, it was gone also. Thats what I get for borrowing without permission. She had a wonderful page, what a gold mine to learn from. Gone with a click of the mouse.

So today my Blog is still a plain Jane, but I now have the determanation to make mine beautiful too. And I will, I hope, at least I'll try. But one thing I did come away with on my trip through Blog land is most are put together really well. Not mine, most have beautiful art work, not mine. The one thing I have in common with them is for the most part they ramble on about what they feel. Just like me, so now I don't feel quite so bad. I want to gussy it up though. Be delightful to the eye, so to speak. It will probaly take me a another month or more to get there. But if you ever think of me, picture me with hammer and nails. A bucket of paint and a brush. Trying to beautify my site. Please wish me luck. I have a feeling I'm gonna need it.

WHO HE WON'T DATE AFTER I'M GONE.

It is three in the morning. I couldn't sleep, neither could the dogs. They are out in the yard and I am praying "I" loses her voice till she is back in the house. I hate these nights when I can't sleep at all. I guess everyone has them, when sleep is elusive and not your best friend. I envy these people that can go to sleep instantly and drift into a deep peaceful sleep. I am not one of those. I probably will never be.

Yesterday just wasn't one of my better days. Of course I have always believed our days for the most part are what we make of them. Undoubtedly I was not putting the right things into it because quite frankly it sucked. Steve out of the clear blue assured me if I died first I had not one friend he would do anything with. He would tell them all to scoot on down the road. Excuse me please, "Why are we talking of my demise?" I sure hadn't brought the subject up. He wouldn't leave it alone though. He kept naming them over and assuring me he would not have another woman. Not nary a one. I felt so much better. But finally after ten minutes of this I told him not to worry if he died first I would never have another man. I would do quite fine with my dogs and all of his Social Security instead of the small part I draw now. He looked at me strange and muttered something about hoping I wasn't going to try to rush it along. Smiling I assured him I had no such plans and hoped he wasn't trying to rush me either.

Our talk was on the way to the casino where I promptly lost every Penny I had. My day wasn't looking up at all. On the way home he asked if I wanted to go on "Judge Judy," as he heard we could both get 500 dollars a piece just for being on the show.. I asked why in the world would we go on "Judge Judy," what could I sue him over. He promptly said, "Alienation of Affection." I'm still shaking my head over that one. Once home depressed over the fact I lost my little bit of money and Steve was talking of his plans after my death. I promptly headed for the kitchen. Imagine the shock when I found there was no Little Debbie in the house. Not only was she gone, all the Keebler Elf's had left with her. I felt a total sinking feeling in my stomach. How could I possibly cope with all my problems with the gang all gone? All of a sudden I remembered yesterday he brought me home a box of Fiddle Faddle. I raced back to the kitchen. Then the ugly truth hit me. I had ate the whole box ten minutes after he brought it into the house. I felt tears in my eyes. This was too much to bear.

Later after I settled down a little, I got to thinking. I always get into trouble when I do that much. We never really know what other people are thinking. We sometimes think we do, but really we don't. I am riding along nicely in the car and he starts talking of what he would do after my death. Makes me wonder just how long he has been turning that over in his mind. I catch myself looking at him often since yesterday. Wondering just what is moving around up there anyway. All I can say is I am very glad we have no Insurance. Good grief I just remembered something. Just last week he said we should think about getting some. it looks as if I just might have a problem.

I guess from my talking about Debbie and the Keebler brothers you have noticed I have not stuck with my diet. Oh well if I am leaving anytime soon I guess I might just as well eat what I want.You know when I think about it, he has been buying me many snacks lately. Hmmm, I wonder if his thinking could be, the fatter I am, the slower I will run away if he's after me.. Something I should think about. Tomorrow I am dieting for sure. But for now, I'm outta here.

LIFE IS LIKE A MOUNTAIN RAILROAD

Hello, its Monday again. You know the drill by now. How can it be Monday when it seems it was only Wednesday yesterday. Time flying by, I want to reach out and grab it. Its going to fast. Slow down, how can I smell the roses or even see them when time is on a fast lane to older age and I can't see or smell when you're going that fast.

Yesterday I called my brother. You know "Smiling Bud," I had this song running through my head. I just kept repeating the few words I knew over and over to myself. "Life is like a mountain railroad, with a engineer that's brave. You must make the run successful, from the cradle to the grave." Over and over I sung the words. Till I was driving myself crazy. "Bud," I asked, when he answered the phone. "Whats the words to that old gospel song, Life is like a mountain railroad?" He began to sing, in his clear sweet voice. The words coming back to him quickly. I of course joined in on the chorus. As I cannot sing on key I should have left him to sing it alone. He sounded good and I loved the words.

We then talked about the old gospel music and how the new Christan music they call,"Contemporary Christan music fails in comparison. Now I know there are many who love the new Christan music and I have heard many singers and songs I like. But there is something about the old gospel music that can't be beat.I suppose part of that is brought about by the kind of church we grew up in. Where there was a guitar picker or two. Someone on the piano and maybe even a tambourene. The old as Bud called it, "Brush harbor music." Everyone sang, clapped their hands. The words could be joyous or ones that touched your heart like the,"Old rugged cross." But whatever the words when you heard them you knew you had been to church, or felt like it even if you wasn't in church.

Its sort of like the new country music, there are some good new singers out there and some good songs. My brother Bud does not listen to any of the new country, just the old classic. But you just don't hear that old country where George could bring tears to your eyes and Ernest ,"Walked the floor over you." Oh I know, times changes everything. But I believe not always for the good. Give me the good old gospel, let me listen to Vern Gosden. Sing me "Amazing Grace," or "How great thou are."

Picture this in your mind if you will. It's back in the late thirties. Which was at least before my time, thank goodness. But picture if you will a Saturday night and the family gathered around the old radio. Listening to the Grand Ole Opery." Things were tough in the thirties, "The great depression," you know. But on Saturday night everyone gathered around the radio. No televisions blaring, no kids with their video games or the computer flashing. Just that old wooden radio. Not much money, everyone just doing their best to survive. The announcer brings a young singer up to the mike and he starts singing the song called, "Life is like a mountain railroad." The Dad leans forward in his chair as the crackle of the radio brings the words across the airways. "Keep your hand upon the throttle and your eyes upon the rail." Dad was trying his best to feed his family, to raise them right, show them the way, the right way to go and to trust in God even in bad times. He smiled at his wife as he leans back in his chair. You can hear the mandolins and Dobro in the background. Giving the song that old Bluegrass sound. "Thats a good song Momma," he says. She smiles back, her heart lifted up at the words to the song. You know things haven't changed all that much because when things get tough just, "Keep your hand upon the throttle and your eyes upon the rail. Words to the song is as follows.



LIFE IS LIKE A MOUNTAIN RAILROAD
"by"
ME ABBEY

Life is like a mountain railway
With an engineer that's brave
We must make the run successful
From the cradle to the grave

Heed the curves and watch the tunnels
Never falter, never fail
Keep your hands upon the throttle
And your eye upon the rail

Blessed Saviour there to guide us
Till we reach that blissful shore
And the angels there to join us
In God's grace forevermore

As you roll across the trestle
Spanning Jordan's swelling tide
You will reach the Union Depot
Into which your train will ride

There you'll meet the superintendent
God the father, God the son
With a happy joyous greeting
Weary pilgrim, welcome home

Blessed Saviour there to guide us
Till we reach that blissful shore
And the angels there to join us
In God's grace forevermore

In God's grace forevermore

I'M NOT WRITING ABOUT PICKING PEACHES TODAY.

It is Sunday morning. I hope you read this today Jackie so you can see I can get my days straight. It isn't raining but is a little cool. "I", will not go out. I am not sure why, she definitely has a mind of her own. I call her a little person who was born with two extra legs. None of us can be perfect, right?

I keep thinking I am going to write about when I picked peaches in Colorado but it never seems the right time. I am not sure exactly why, well maybe I really know the answer. But just seem to not be able to do it yet. I have been too many states. Never out of the country. I would love to go to Mexico, I have mentioned that here before I know. I refuse to abandon my dream. I may never get to go but I will always keep that dream flickering inside my heart. I don't want to go to the big cities but the small villages scattered around the country side. I love their language and the fast expressive way they communicate. I know I have mentioned that before too. But I still like it.

I use to say if they kicked me out of Missouri, I would go live in Colorado because of the beautiful mountains. They seem so large as they loom silhouetted against the sky. I do not know how anyone can see the mountains and not believe in a creator, God. I do not believe the Mountains evolved from a lump of dirt thousands of years ago. I believe that God just waved them into existence. The trees in Colorado make a Colorado lover out of me. The dense forests that inhabit the mountains. I can say the word, "Colorado," and I smile.

I loved Washington, and the west coast with the ocean. So vast and overpowering in its beauty. I loved the East coast too. The harbor in New York with the statue of Liberty and the Holland tunnel. I would love to spend a week just getting to see the entire city of new York.

Going down from New York, down through the Appalachian Mountains, Tennesse. It was all breathtaking. I love to travel. To see the new places, feel the new experiences.

But then there is Missouri. We have no mountains, just graceful, rolling hills. We have no Ocean but beautiful lakes and creeks. Where a body can grab a fishing pole and sit under a tree and let the rest of the world go by. We have rivers too. And hundreds of different varieties of wild flowers that look as if a painter has decorated the fields. Our trees in the Ozarks can rival anywhere you might go. I guess what I am trying in my wordy way to say is there is just no place like home. Home where the visual delights are maybe just everyday things that you are use too. But nothing anywhere I have ever been to me is as beautiful as the early morning hours just sitting out under my trees.

I have wandered quite alot in my lifetime. Some regrets, but I am glad for all the places I have seen and the vast variety of different people I have met. But right here in my very own hometown, in my own yard. With the trees blooming, the dogs barking. I have found my paradise. Isn't it funny how sometimes we have to go so far to find the buried treasure right here under our noses, in our own backyard.

This is one of those bad ramble days. I sort of sound like a travel agent. Maybe I should have just written about picking peaches. Did I tell you the Mexican women there at the Peach orchard called me, "Skinny, crazy, white girl." Well they wouldn't call me skinny anymore. Though I am still white and defnitaley crazy. Oh well we all change some with time. For now I am leaving, to go drink my coffee and figure just what the day has in store for me. See ya.

DID YOU KNOW HE DANCED ON SKATES.WOW!

Good grief its Friday again. ( A small add on if you don't mind. This is Saturday not Friday. Thanks Jackie for catching my mistake. You're a sweetheart.)Fast forwarding days, zipping by at lightening speed.The weather has been wonderful and just keeps filling you with the desire to be outside. Today my Blog is a little different as I am writing it about someone my kids love and care for, their Dad. And also his wife because Al and Mae just go together, just like cake and ice cream. So have a great day. Here goes.

Well I made it through my two day mini Blog crisis and here I am. A total nut, I would never try to discourage that theory. Truth must sometimes stand alone. The Blog I am writing today is about a Champion rollerskating dancer. It is his birthday today.He is seventy-seven years old. I suppose there will be some who might feel that it might be in bad taste to run a picture of your ex-husband and his wife on your Blog. I must confess I don't feel that way at all. Take a look at the picture at the top, the young couples on the right. Al and his partner, she must remain nameless as I don't know her name. Back in his younger years Al was a accomplished skater and danced in competitions and won many. Isn't that cool. I wonder if all the little ones know that their great-grandfather could skate with the best. All dressed up in a snazzy suit, he whizzed around the floor, danced, did them all. I for one think that is a great accomplishment. So today Al, I would like to say happy Birthday.

Also at the top you will see the picture of him and his wife. Her name is Mae and I think so highly of her. They are a great couple, soul mates. That I believe. They have been married for twenty-three years. And have always been a active part in the kids life.

I get aggravated sometimes when younger people look at older folks. Thats just what they do, look and say "Oh there is a old man, there's a old woman. They never see deep closely at the person who lives inside that shell. The woman might have been a nurse, heck even a Doctor. The man a sailor, or even a dancer, one on skates. The years that have aged their outside bodies has not taken away the inside. The singer, the optimist. Whatever they were, they still are. My Momma use to say, "Don't judge a book by it's cover." Don't judge a older person by the fact they have a few wrinkles, oh okay in my case alot, but look beyond the years, see what all they have accomplished. You might be surprised if you took the time to talk to them. Find out about their life's. Al was a sailor. Aboard a big ship during the Korean war. I'm sure he has stories, many stories that could hold you spell bound for awhile. So though this may be your birthday Al and folks might think you are getting older. Really who you are is still that Dancer on skates, that wowed the crowd. I think so anyway.

Well another day. I am so proud I wasn't late today. Who would have ever thought a little thing like a Blog could cause me so many insecurities. I want to finish this, I truly do. So as I wander off to the edge of Blog land and think about what new Blog lies ahead. I leave you with the wish you call the Dance King and say Happy Birthday. See ya.

BILLIE AND THE VOLKSWAGON

It is Thursday morning. I have been up for hours but have not wrote my Blog. I didn't write it yesterday. I decided enough was enough that these silly wandering words of mine would be better off corralled away in my mind. I have been sad at the prospect but felt it was probably what I needed to do. My Billie just called. "Where is your Blog?" So though my mind is scrambled with confusion.. My fingers stiff, I have opened the corral of my mind up again. Let the horses run. I will write this Blog, no more gaps. But now it will be for 366 days to make up for yesterday. Poor you.

Since I have no clear cut ides what this should be about today. Not that I ever have many clear cut thoughts. As I am the Queen of jumping from one subject to another.Maybe today I should tell you about a Ten Mile race I was in one time. The boys were all small. I had never been in a race before. I started out pretty good, but fell by the wayside quickly. Before long the only ones in the back of the pack was myself and a little girl with baseball cleats on. She was only about nine. Her Mother kept driving along encouraging her every step. She wanted to quit. I had no baseball cleats on, fairly good running shoes to be exact but I was at about the seventh mile and was barely moving. Every little bit Billie would drive by, the little boys hanging out the car yelling, "Go Grandma." Billie on the other hand would call, "Are you okay, you look awful, you're so pale." But the main thing, they stayed right on my trail. As I plowed along the highway, as the planes roared off from the airport. There they were, in the little Volkswagen. Yelling at me, as I slowly moved one leg in front of the other. As I curled up in the chair this morning, feeling like heck for giving up. For being a quitter, the phone rang. I could almost see those little boys their heads stuck out the window, as they watched their crazy grandma try to limp to the end.

This is twice since I started I have been discouraged, twice I have said I am so silly. But once again Billie in her little blue Volkswagen has pulled up and saved the day. Oh I know it looks like a Van she drives, and the kid in the back is Ryan. But that's okay. In my mind eyes its her and the boys. I am making a promise, the no break kind. I am back, back to stay. Matters not if they are good or stink. I'm back. So this will be short. But tomorrow back to my rambling self. So as Billie shifts the Blue Volkswagon in to gear. I'm outta here. See you tomorrow.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LORI, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU.

It is Wednesday morning, early morning, about three. I just could not sleep. I have been laying awake, so finally just gave up, got up and here I am, drinking coffee. I have been fighting little Debbie the last two days and she won the fight. Dang that Steve for bringing them home and Debbie for making me eat them. Oh well another day to try and not smell their tantalizing ordor. For there is another package left. I hate you Little Debbie for controlling my eating habits. Do you not know life is not made up of only cake alone, not veggies, not fruit, just cake.


On April 21st, 1963. James and Geri Moody welcomed their first child, She was born three minutes before midnight. She had a head of ash blond curls, fair skin and was pretty from day one. Her Mother was in labor for hours. I had went to work at six am that morning and my Mother picked me after work at two. It seems if I remember right we went straight to the hospital but as it has been a few years I may be wrong, it could have been a little later but not by much. The hours creaked by as we waited for the big moment. Geri having her first child at twenty-seven was having a rough time of it. She moaned with pain. This stubborn little girl, although we didn't know at the time it was a girl, was not coming out willingly. The funny thing, though of course there was nothing funny going on to Geri, was that in between pains she would go sound asleep and snore like the dickens. You could hear her in the hall. She was so tired and this had gone on for hours. I myself was getting pretty tired as I had been up since five. But of course I was in no pain. About seven I went out to Mom's car to try and sleep awhile. Mom came out and got me by nine. "It won't be long now," she said. But it was almost three more hours till Miss Lori decided she would give up and come on into this world. The Moody family has not been the same since.

Lori was a doll and is still a doll. Her little sister come along a little over a year later and when they were small Lori use to be ornery to her sometimes. When they were both very little young James and Geri came to Leavenworth to live. I was over there early one morning. Geri and I heard crying coming from the bathroom. It was Mickie Jo. Geri hurried in there, myself right behind. Mickie was sobbing. She had all kinds of stuff in her mouth, in her eyes. Lori had been fixing little sister up. And although she was crying, she was letting Lori do it to her. I am sure she has outgrown all that now, right Lori?

I haven't been around the kids as much as I would have liked as they grew up. But I always have those two little faces imprinted on my memory when the two girls were small. Both born here in Joplin. Lori at the old Joplin General, Mickie at the other one built on
34th street. I remember being in Easton and making cookies with the girls it seemed like it was handprint cookies. And Lori is a girl after my heart. She does not let the number of her age affect how she wants to look. Good for you Lori, I hope you never do.

I just wanted to use my blog today to tell her I love her. And wish I could have been more a part of her life growing up. So have a good day Lori, enjoy your birthday. You are a year younger. I think going backwards is the way to do it. So go girl. Catch you all later. I'm outta here.

I THINK I SEE INDIANS.

Tuesday morning. A little nippy outside but that won't last long. "I" is outside barking so I will be getting up and down from this computer it looks like. I didn't get up until five AM so sleepy head I am. I'm running late. I am looking for a beautiful day weather wise.

Yesterday I wrote about things I didn't like. I rambled on and on. So today I thought I should give equal time to things I like. But I asked a few others for things they liked, things that made them happy. The results is as follows.

My sister Geri said, Number one was hearing from her kids and grandkids. She worries about them and it pleases her when they call. Number two was her country music on the radio. Number three was beautiful scenery, quiet scenery. She said to ride in a car' looking out the windows at the rolling green hills, dotted with trees and flowers. Picturing in her mind the days that Indians roamed those Kansas hills. These are the things that make her happy. My brother gave me one answer and after careful thought. I have decided maybe I shouldn't write it. All I will say is that it has to do with disposing of food you have eaten. Make your own answer. I think it will come to you.

My daughter Billie said quickly, Number one is her grandchildren. We all knew the answer to that one. The greatest grandmother walking. Number two, Quiet, pure quiet. For someone who is as busy as she is I can certainly understand that one. Baby sitting, working, someone constantly wanting her time. It must surely be a joy just to settle into the night after work on her computer, letting the peacefulness fill her soul.

Brandi said, Number one, Doing things with her boys. Riding bikes, walking, just doing fun stuff. She is such a good mother. She is maturing and has become a very good mother and person. Number two is, Eating and then she also added quiet too. For a mother of three boys that one is understandable also.

Ryan who is four said, Number one the neighbors, a big smile on his face as he said it. He likes the neighbors. Brandi added you couldn't keep him from their house. Number two was, Lara, he smiled very big at that too. "Oh " I said smiling, "So the neighbor is a girl?" Brandi says, "Yes she's a girl alright. She's thirty, has black curly hair and good boobs. She said Brett liked her too. So there shows what neighborly love is all about.

Steve said number one is, Sitting out in the frontyard. Just enjoying the quiet and watching the cars go by. He said that makes him happy. Number two is riding his shiny red lawn mower around the yard with a can of Bud in the cup holder mowing his lawn. Its not hard to see the yard and the trees, birds singing with our two dogs close at hand makes him happy.

Jer says number one is, Serving God and doing the church work he is involved in. He also likes women. But then what man doesn't for the most part.

Now for myself. Number one, Sitting out in what I call my green room. In my swing under our two trees, My Saul and Sarah trees. I can go sit out there morning or night and just let the sounds flood over me. This to me is perfection. It brings me joy. Number two is hearing from my kids. Knowing they are okay. I try not to call them much, both of them being so busy. But a phone call from them puts joy into my heart. Pure happiness. Number three is talking to my sister every morning. Knowing that miles away she is sitting, still filling her corner of the world, that also brings me happiness. There are many things I like alot. My dogs, my husband, my friends. Yesterday my daughter called,"Want to go with Brandi and me to NBC store?" It didn't take a second to say yes. So her, Brandi, Ryan and I went to the store, then out to lunch. What a treat, it was of course another golden memory tucked into my mind and heart. Number four is, The quiet I have in the early hours of the morning. Up sometimes I feel before the rest of the world. I drink in the solitude.

Several in the bunch talked of the quiet. I think it shows that the world has become very noisey, radios blaring, people hollering, cars honking. Everywhere noise. I said yesterday sometimes I just get sick of hearing my own voice. So I after my rant yesterday I just wanted the world to know there are some things I do like. So I am going now and in a hour or so the world around me will start getting noisey again. But for now I'm enjoying the quiet. See ya.

A FEW THINGS I DON'T LIKE.

Monday morning again. Here I go again about time flying by. Days slide into days, wrapping themselves together. I am forever getting days mixed up, they all seem so alike. Ask a person who works Monday till Friday, they can sure tell you what day it is. For Monday starts a count down until Friday. The weekend comes, then the count down starts over again. I think I need a job.

I was sitting around yesterday trying to figure out what I might write about today. Several things popped up but I quickly tossed them aside. After I ramble on for several paragraphs, you will wish I had tossed this aide too. But oh well, here goes. I am listing a few things I don't like. I am sure this probably will not be of much interest to anyone but me. But since I am the writer I am jotting these down.

Number one, This of course will not come as a surprise to anyone who knows me or has read a few of my blogs. I don't like prejudice of any kind. I don't understand it, can't work it out in my mind. To choose a group of people, a race, a religious belief or someones sexual preference and direct your hate at them is not understandable. To me it shows a very small ignorrant mind. I did a paper in college for English. I did it on prejudice, a five page essay. I did quite a bit of research. It was mind blowing to read some of the facts of the deeds hate can produce. And it all comes from prejudice from one against another. People can't help if they are born black, or have blond hair and blue eyes. Get over it.

Number two.- I don't like people who say rude and cutting remarks to people, then say, I was only joking." Using the mask of humor to cut someone down. If you don't like someone, want to make fun of them in front of a group of people. Have the moxy to just say it,don't do your dirty work, then call it a joke. That just irritates me to death. Excuse me, you're not funny.

Number three. I don't like violence of any kind. People who use their hands, bodies and minds to be violent to another person is high on my list of meaness. Think of a little child and a large tall adult looms over you, slaps you in the face because you have made them mad. What does the child learn. Oh I know, when you are mad or upset, just hit someone that will make everything better. Men who feel intimidated about some woman and wants to control her. And uses force to try to attain that purpose. Anyone who uses force against another person should be shipped to a island and forced for them all to live together. There they can beat on each other to their hearts content and leave the rest of us alone.

Number four, This one ties in to the one above. People who look around and see a woman who is in a violent relationship and says and this usually is a man that says it, "She must like that rough treatment. Some women do you know." Wake up and get your head out of a paper bag, you're breathing your own stupid fumes. I have heard of this sexual bondage thing. Now there is another thing I do not understand in any way. But believe me that is not what a violent abusive relationship is about. This pal is one sided, when a man beats, punches and sometimes kills the woman to be able to control her. Also he does it because he can. Because we have been a society for years that looked the other way and allowed a woman to be treated as if she was a possession to own and control. Sorry, this is one I should have skipped. Because I feel so strong about this subject. But please believe me, there is no woman alive who wants her eyes blacked, her ribs kicked and calls it fun and pleasurable.

Number five, People who have no time for just a small kindness to others. It takes just a minute to be thoughtful. To smile at someone and be courteous. The whole world is not about just one person, you. I am a strong believer we are all for the most part doing our best. Stumbling through this life, trying to make it through. Then along comes some jerk that treats everyone around them in a selfish, mean spirited way. It leaves a nasty taste in my mouth.

Number six, I am not saying this one shouldn't be number one. Drunk drivers. People who never learn from their past mistakes and just keep drinking and driving around. Playing Russian roulette with others life's.. There are many people who have used bad judgement and made the decision to crawl behind a wheel when they shouldn't have. But they realized the horrible results of what their decision could have cost and they stopped. I have nothing against drinking, just don't bring others into your decision. Drink at home, ride a cab, call someone to pick you up.Nobody wants to take your fun away. Just don't let your fun make someone else, or sometimes a whole family pay with their life. There are many who after several DWI's are still driving, so drunk they can hardly see. To me that is pure selfishness. Thinking only of your ownself and what you want.

Number seven. Relax this I promise will be my last. Men who have children and then gleefully walk away and leave these young mothers with children to support. Then goes out and makes another family. Our society needs to take more notice of our young mothers in their struggle to raise their children. These men walk away without more than a slap on their hands if they are not supporting their children. It makes me mad and truly don't care who knows it. Not all young mothers are lucky as a few that have familes that help them. It is over powering for these young girls trying to raise their kids alone. Its hard for the ones that do have supportive families. Shame, shame on the men who make these babies then walk away. Leaving these children to grow up wondering why they their Dad's didn't love them. Shame. You should be branded with a "Deadbeat Dad sign." So other unsuspecting girls will know the truth about you before they fall for your line.

This has certainly been a ramble today. Now you can see why know one wants to get me started about anything. If anyone reads this it might irritate you but I truly feel better by writing it. So I guess I will let it stand as is. I certainly hope if you have stumbled by that you drop back again. Then maybe nobody will stumble by, so at least I won't have offended anyone. But for today I'm outta here.

I DIDN'T KNOW THAT STEPPERS DIED.

A cool April morning, Sunday to be exact. The dogs are outside. Its only a little after five so I am hoping this will be a quiet morning. The beauty of the outdoors gets more scenic with everyday. Everywhere you look new beginnings, trees loaded with blooms, bushes, As if a artist has been at work. The hand of God leaving his strokes for us to see.

Until yesterday I was really under the impression that if you were a stepper, then you would just keep on stepping. The steps would never stop. I have learned that is not true, Steppers stop stepping. We are not invincible after all. I dug my trusty dictionary out this morning, trying to find the word stepper. That actual word is not in there. Of course step is there, so is stepped and stepping, But not stepper. Under step, stepped and stepping there was eight definitions. The one I liked best and myself assigning it to the word stepper is,"Stage in process." I like that, I am in process. Because you see maybe I never mentioned but I am,"A stepper."

I have said that for years. "You can't get me down," I would say, "I'm a stepper." I felt like I was an energizer rabbit. I was a stepper and would just keep going. My sister works sometimes at the Assitance Center, voulenteer work. Her friend Peggy also works there, she is a woman who lives in the senors apartments. Geri called one day, telling me about this little short guy, who strutted around. He helped her one day by carrying saomething, she thanked him. He said that was okay, he was a stepper. She smiled thats what my sister always says. "That she is a stepper." "I am the real stepper," he told her. "I've always said that about myself." Geri smiled again, "So does my sister." She told me, Well, I thought I didn't know there was two of us out there.

Jessie later started dating her friend Peggy. He bought her gifts, flew her on vacations, bought her roses every month and was all around very good to her. So we know that not only was Jessie a stepper he had money too. Alas, this stepper has no money.

I did not know Jessie. I only heard about him. Geri had told me was very sick. I asked about him from time to time. After all he was a stepper just like me. Yesterday my sister called. "I forgot to tell you this morning that Jessie died last night." I felt sad, I truly did. Because you see there is not many of us steppers left out there, we really couldn't afford for this world to lose another.

You see I really didn't think he would die. When I heard he was sick, I was sure he would bounce back. Isn't that what us steppers do? Bounce back with springs on our feet. So as silly as it may seem to anyone who might by chance read this Blog today. I would like to say good-bye to Jessie. I do not know what kind of man you were. If you were a good father, husband or friend. I do not know how you spent your eighty plus years on this earth. But Jessie you were a stepper. You stepped into Peggy's life and was good to her. You smiled at my sister and gave her loafs of bread from the supply room and eggs. Many days egg sandwich's was what she had in the house to eat. You donated your time five days a week to help others. You certainly sound like a stepper to me. So farewell Jessie. I would like to believe somewhere , only a heartbeat away from our world, you are stepping still. March on my fellowman, march on.

BUT THAT WAS EONS AGO.

Saturday morning is here.Its about five. I let "I" out and the cool air welcomed me. But it doesn't seem to be raining . So maybe the garage sales are still on. I need more junk you know. I may still have one square inch with nothing on it.

Eons ago, in a land far away was a place called Ninth Street. I have talked about ninth street before. In that land lived a family called the "Munch's". There was a mother, Father, three sisters and a brother. Just an average family. They were poor but the story goes they were a fairly happy bunch. The oldest sister, hmmm, let us call her Geri. She seemed to think the middle child, we'll call her Billye was a a brat. Now the truth of the matter she probably was a brat. She was the baby of the family until the little sister called Brenda came along. Billie in turn thought the sister Geri was mean to her. Now whether she was or not, depends on whose memories you are believing. I am telling this from the point of view of Billye, take the truth as you see it. It matters not. But you are about to hear about, "The bobby pin episode". So you'll just have to bear with me, Okay?

Geri was about twenty, Billie fifteen. Back in the olden days they had what we call bobby pins on which they rolled their hair. No heat rollers, no blow dryers, no curling irons. I told you it was Eons ago. The sad fact is they only had one set of bobby pins. Not enough for both girls to roll their hair at once. The younger of the two girls was home all evening. She wanted to roll her hair but she just kept waiting. I am not totally sure why. She was rather a strange girl. Or so I hear from others.

Geri came home from a date. Ready to roll her hair. Billye makes a sprint, grabs the pins and starts rolling her hair. Geri makes a grab to yank them out of her hand. "No," she yelled. "I have to work tomorrow, I need them." Billye yanks them back, "No I need them." She wouldn't let go. By this time the silly girls were on the front porch, hollering at each other. The door to their Fathers bedroom open for the cool evening breezes, no AC Eons ago you see. This went on for a time. Their Father hit the floor. "Shut up girls," he demanded, " I'm trying to sleep." He worked very long hours you know. Geri and Billye looked at each other. They had woke Father. Oops, he was not happy. They grabbed each others hands and started running, up Ninth, turning on Pennsylvania, over to eight. The school, there was the school. Good ole East Central, they were saved. Laughing very hard by now they run up the steps, and tucked themselves into the dark recess's of the front entrance.

Their they waited, each laughing softly. Then they heard it, the soft putt, putt of the old Studebaker. They knew she would come looking for them. "Mother," she would always come. Even if they were silly and old enough to know better. She would always come. They could hear her softly calling their names out the car window. They stood very still, finally they heard her putt, putt away.

They grabbed each others hands again, running down the stairs, headed back to the old house on ninth street. Once there they sat on the steps and divided the pins, happy as could be. Never thinking how their Mother, who probably got yelled at for taking the car out that late at night. Or how their poor Father who worked twelve hours a day probably couldn't get back to sleep. No, they never thought of this at all. I think of those girls from time to time. Of that old car and the Mother circling the neighborhood. Softly calling their names. But of course that was another land, another time. But oh I remember it still. Even if it was Eons ago. On the stillness of some evenings I listen, standing very still. Hoping to hear her voice that was spoken on that night so many years ago.

I listen but of course I cannot hear. But I wonder sometimes if somewhere is a capsule with all the prayers and soft words spoken by Mothers locked away somewhere. Still echoing if you could only listen hard enough. So that is my story. I will leave Blog land for now. I hope all is well in your land. But for me, I'm outta here.

ROSA PARKS

Thursday morning. Its only "I" and I up. One of those quiet mornings with the darkness still settled around us. I sip my coffee and am at peace with myself. Both doors open and the cool breeze surrounds me. I am grateful to be alive.

I have been thinking since my talk with Bradley the other day. As he told me who he thought were great men. He stopped all of a sudden and pointed at his chest. "It doesn't matter Grandma what we look like on the outside, its whats we're like inside." I wanted to hug him. The concept is so simple but many people just can't get their minds around it. It doesn't matter if you're tall, short, thin or fat. If your hair is green pink or purple. If you have tattoos, a ring in your nose or you are just the average Joe. We all are the same, are blood still flows, we breath, we eat and sleep. The difference in us is how we feel with our hearts. How we treat others.

I saw a talk show back in the seventies. There was a doctor that had written a book on,"Out of body experiences." You know people who have been pronounced dead, but started breathing again. He said that all their stories had one thing in common. They saw Jesus, he asked one question,"What have you done for your fellow man?" To me thats pretty deep.

Some people are so bound up with prejudices, filled with hate and anger at another race, another's sexual preference. Its scary really. And though many of us don't believe that way, we sit in a group of people and let someone ramble on, spewing their hate with angry, hurtful words. When does one say, enough. This isn't right. "Arron Tippin," had a song that had a line. "You've got to stand for something or you'll fall for anything." There comes a time when as a responsible adult you have to say, this is not right. You have to stand up and be counted for what you think is right. How sad to live our life's never standing and speaking up against a injustice. That's what Rosa Parks did, and in doing that one act triggered a movement that has changed the face of America. Not that there is not still prejudice but we have come such a long way. I have included a short version of what happened to Rosa Parks that day. I want to thank Bradley for his clear youthful version of how we as humans should act. If you happen to read this today forgive me for my preachy spirit but in the words of Bradley."Its how you treat others that really counts."

ROSA PARKS

On December 1, 1955, Rosa Parks, a 42-year-old African American woman who worked as a seamstress, boarded this Montgomery City bus to go home from work. On this bus on that day, Rosa Parks initiated a new era in the American quest for freedom and equality.
She sat near the middle of the bus, just behind the 10 seats reserved for whites. Soon all of the seats in the bus were filled. When a white man entered the bus, the driver (following the standard practice of segregation) insisted that all four blacks sitting just behind the white section give up their seats so that the man could sit there. Mrs. Parks, who was an active member of the local NAACP, quietly refused to give up her seat.

Her action was spontaneous and not pre-meditated, although her previous civil rights involvement and strong sense of justice were obvious influences. "When I made that decision," she said later, “I knew that I had the strength of my ancestors with me.”

She was arrested and convicted of violating the laws of segregation, known as “Jim Crow laws.” Mrs. Parks appealed her conviction and thus formally challenged the legality of the Jim Crow law.

I would like to be remembered as a person who wanted to be free... so other people would be also free.
Rosa Parks

KEEPING MY WORDS CONCISE AND FLUID.

Wednesday again. The midweek stop. I had to get up at fifteen till four. Got Steve up at four. It is now almost five. Now I get up every day very early. But when I know I have to get up its a different story. I am dragging around. It is ridiculous.

I have no topic, nothing pre-thought for the Blog. I am searching for the golden words that will fit together concise and fluid. I like those words, don't you? Concise and fluid, as if I have ever been that in my lifetime or my words. I am like a three ring circus, with something going on in every ring. My thoughts the same way, spilling out in a scramble. So today I am looking to write sensible and with forethought. That's another good word, huh? My trouble is I never put much forethought into anything I say or do. I open my mouth and what comes out is what you get. Sometimes that's okay but sometimes not as a good.

I have never been able to really understand if I am outspoken or just nuts. I probably am not the one to answer that question. I of course would say I am out spoken. Other's would probably go with the latter.I seem to always have so much to say and then when I am through talking I realize I never really said much of anything. Actually there are times when I am out in a crowd I get nervous. It is then I really babble. I hear these incoherent words going on and on. I think, "Who in the heck is that idiot?" Then I realize the idiot is myself. Oops.

So what can I say today that will sound sage, interesting and lucid. Hmmm, to be honest I am not sure. And sounding lucid is not really one of my strong points either. But surely there is one piece of good advise I can leave you with. I know, "What goes around, comes around." My Momma always said that line. It kind of goes hand in hand with the Karma bit I believe in. So leave happiness in your path behind. Because if it catches up with you, you don't want to be dealing with a bunch of Bulls--t. For what you scatter around is the very thing that will come back latter and hit you in the face. Make sure it is smiles and laughter. Its much easier to take. So though I have not written wisdom, no sage advice. Just keep a smile on your face and keep on moving. But for today, I'm outta here.

OUT OF THE MOUTHS OF THE YOUNG.

Good morning, I am up and getting on with my day. It was glorious yesterday and here is hoping its the same today. I am now able to sit in my green room. I love my swing, love my trees and love the weather. Thank-you God for the great outdoors.

Yesterday afternoon Brandi's boys came over for a couple of hours. Each of the boys and I talked a little. I have learned the most interesting things from them. Especially Bradley. Bradley has certain opinions and ideas. I am sure he is very smart and listens at school. We talked about God, Jesus, Abraham Lincoln and Martin Luther King. Bradley puts Mr. Lincoln right up there with God. But he is also very grateful for Martin Luther King. He knew about Rosa Parks. We talked about Rosa Parks and her not giving her seat up on the bus. I was pleased to hear that he had learned about her and hadn't forgot. I remained him that the Constituting said all men was create equal. he brought the conversation right back to Lincoln.

Oh yes I also learned that it is good that he is a little chunky. Because he has enough meat on the bone to stop a bullet. I advised him not to try it, that it might stop it but I was sure it would hurt. No he assured me, he would be fine because of the meat on his bones. I am not sure who told him that story. But I certainly hope he learns the truth very soon. Having a couple of extra pounds will not stop you from being shot.

I also learned Rayn has a hobby of wanting to stick corn chip bugles up peoples noses. Trying to reason it might hurt the other person did not seem to a be reason to change his mind.

Brett announced a list of people he respected. He started with his Mother and finished with his grandma Billie and grandpa Ron. He has learned you can love someone and not respect them, Which sometimes is a hard lesson to learn.

I also taught them something. That Grandma Billie is really Grandma Willamina. Bradley's eyes become very big when I suggested he call her Grandma Willamina. "Oh no," I assured him. "She will love you knowing her name." I laugh, we'll see how much she loves it. But Bradley is rather afraid to try it.

All three boys wanged away on the inside wind chime. Just to hear Grandpa Steve yell and threaten them.He finally shouted ," Enough is enough, not one more time." Ryan looked around, the blue eyes dancing. Softly he stole over and gave them a wack. He raced to his seat. Steve came into the room. "Who did that," he bellowed. Without missing a beat Ryan turned towards me. "She did," he cried.I smiled, bring the roaring beasts on. I don't care. I smiled sweetly, "yes I did, it was me." He shook his head and left the room. See sometimes the righteous do prevail.


So for one more day I have overcome the Blog. It might have won but I certainly have waged a war. So for today may only the lovely sights of spring surround you. But what ever you do, if you see a speeding bullet aimed at you, dodge if you can. Even if you're chunky. It might be the wise tHing to do.

LITTLE DEBBIE CAKES

Tuesday morning. What a beautiful day yesterday was. I find myself in the middle of cleaning wandering out to sit in the swing under the trees. I think I may have a touch of spring fever. How could you help but have after that cold winter? I just drink it all in.

I am on a diet. Not a make believe diet like I have been on the last year, but a real diet. A diet where I am trying to give up Little Debbie cakes. Now I know how a smoker must feel trying to quit cigarettes, Jonesin out for a fix. I want a Debbie cake. I want it bad. I think I smell them. I'm serious, I try to think about something else but my mind comes right back to the cakes. I use to be able to say I'm going to lose five pounds and do it. I had the inner strength too. I no longer have that strength.

Sweets use to never be that big of deal to me. I don't know when they started being, just one day I couldn't get enough. So I should just stand and say, "My name is Billye Swift. I am a Little Debbie cake addict." I am not sure just when my hunger for sweets reared its ugly head. There was a time a cake could lay around the house for a week, no problem. Then I began to realize one was not enough. If I had one, I wanted two. And so on. Then I would buy a box and in twenty-four hour period I would eat the whole box. Telling myself after three and two hours later that maybe I should just eat them all and diet tomorrow. That has been my battle cry,"Diet tomorrow." I am sorry to learn tomorrow never comes. The next day I start over eating all over again.

Over a week ago on Saturday I bought some groceries. I bought little Debbie cakes. I promptly had two as soon as I put the groceries away. What had I done, hanging my head in shame and muttering, "Bad, bad Billye. " I pomised myself then and there it was over. There is one cake left in the box. It has been there over a week. I sit in my chair at night trying to watch television and think I hear it call my name. I think why not just eat it and get rid of it. I can't because one will not be enough. It is never enough.

I wonder if they have a group for people who are addicted to sweets. Don't laugh, I can see a group of us huddled togeter telling horror stories of how we ate a whole box at one setting. I am sure there are more than me out there. You can tell us by the tale tell signs. Thunder thighs and a big butt. I look in the mirror and shake my head in disgust. It has been a week since my last fix. I awoke the other night dreaming I was eating a Zebra cake. Oh how I love the striped Zebra cakes. I felt pain. I awoke chewing on my own finger. Times are tough.

I am being strong. I tell myself it will get better but I am not sure I am there yet. We went to the Birthday party Friday night. There was a whole table of cakes. A Princess cake and boxes of cupcakes. My first urge was to shove all the children out of the way and start shoving them in my mouth. I was shaking, I walked out into the yard, telling myself,"|I don't need them." No I don't need cake but I want cake. I shall be strong, I will over come. I will be thin again. At least I hope so. Hope I am not depriving myself for nothing.

So I will go for today. I will fight the urge. I will be strong. But if you should pick up the newspaper and see the headlines, "Joplin woman overdoses on Little Debbie cakes." You'll know who it is for sure. Wish me luck. I'm gone for today. See ya.

YOUTH IS WASTED ON THE YOUNG.

Monday, another new week. We are into the middle of April almost. The weather is so great and makes me want to be out in the woods or down by a river somewhere. The house next door on the north has Lilacs blooming, the house on the South of us has a cherry tree in bloom. Fall is my favorite season, but Spring runs a mighty close second. The beauty of everything starting to be in bloom is breathtaking

My brother tells something a friend of his says. That God has things backwards. That people should be born old and grow younger as they go along. Sort of like That movie "Benjamin Button," I guess. Don says that when we finally get smart, we're old and die. You know he just might have something in that theory. Our whole perception of life changes as we age. We see everything clearer and realize what is important. And usually it is not what we thought was important when we were young.

I suppose if you were born old with wisdom that comes with age, then slowly become young you would still have that wisdom. And really be able to enjoy your youth and use it wisely. We don't think much about our health when we are young, about taking care of ourselves. We eat what we want, push our bodies. Then wonder why when we are old why we're in such bad shape.

The one thing I am becoming more aware of is that as people grow older, so many seem so concerned about their health. Its all they think and talk about. It controls all their conversations. Try to have conversation with a person over sixty-two and all they talk about is their aches and pains. Please Lord is my prayer not to complain every time I have a joint ache. I guess as we grow older we are more aware the days are running out and every pain scares us. we think this may be the big one. It's really kind of boring actually to listen to older people's converstaion. Everyone trying to top the other with the fact they hurt the most.

But if we were born old, with the pains of old age, then become young and more healthy as we went along. Quite probably we would appricate it more and take better care of ourselfes.Now that might not be the way it would work out at all but it seems to make sense to me anyway.

I din't worry about much when I was young. I always believed there would be plenty more tomorrows to take care of everything in. So youth I think is wasted on the young. They don't know how to appreciate it at all. Smooth skin, sleeping good at night, knees don't creak. You can see, have your own teeth.You just don't realize what getting older is going to do to you.

You want to grab these young people and say, "You're letting it get away." It will be gone and believe me it won't come back." But they wouldn't listen. I never listened, so why should they. I wonder sometimes if I could go back and do it over would I make better decisions. Oh I certainly hope so. But you never know. I could do worse. So if I ever get to talk to God in person. I'm going to ask him. "Do you think you might have gotten it backwards.?" Just to see what he thinks.

Well I have rattled on again. So I will leave this keyboard, wishing the words that have appeared here had been better. I'm always saying that, aren't I? Maybe someday, maybe. For today, I'm outta here.

THE CORVETT CONVERTABLE RIDE.

Sunday morning is here again and Spring is all around us. I can feel it in the air. My Saul and Sarah trees are sprouting more everyday, reaching closer to each other. I can almost here them sigh, "Soon they whisper, soon."

On Easter at Billie's, Ron's son Ronnie came driving a Black Corvett convertable. "Wow," was all I could say when I saw it. I love convertables and a Corvett to boot. Talk about class. I have never been big on speed but sit me in a sports car and let it fly and I am happy. I know I gushed about the car. I am sure on and on. Pretty soon Brandi came and led me to the car. Ronnie was taking me for a ride, with the top down. All right Houston clear the runway for take off. I was plain thrilled. We headed out, just chatting about the car. 1995 Corvett, orignal red leather interior. Cherry let me tell you, not a mark on it. We flew down Maiden lane, turned on seventh, went to Shiffendecker, then onto 2nd. My heart sank, 25 miles an hour here, my flying was over. We got into about a block and he geared down and off we went. I felt just like Jimmy Johnson at Indy. The wind blew, the sun shined, it was perfect. We pulled back up at the house. I know I was smiling ear to ear. "Ronnie, thanks," I cried. "Well grandma," he said. We were going 85 miles an hour back in that 25 mile an hour street." We both smiled. We speeded and they didn't catch us. What a ride, what a Easter. What a cool young man to take the time to drive me.

I think he takes his daredevil ways from his Dad.As I remember a late night ride him and Billie gave us through high weeds , cutting across fields, driving fast in a Mercede Benz. That was at Hornet before they moved in there. So as Dix would say, "Its in the blood."

So another memory put back into my mind. To bring out on dark and gloomy days. I can't be getting old. I rode shotgun in a Corvett. "What a life."

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MIKAYLA

Saturday morning, five am. I woke at four and couldn't get back to sleep. The dogs have been out and back in, No loud barking this morning. Maybe like me they are breathing in the quiet. The neighborhood lays around us in its quiet mode. Peaceful and siren. Hmmm, wonder how long that will last.

Last night was a big night in our family. Mikayla will turn six on Monday. This last year has been such a terrible period for her and her family. To see her smiling, her hair growing in so soft and dark. It makes you smile down deep in your soul. Only four months ago, when she was going through such a terrible time, it seemed impossible this could be taking place. Such a fun, magical evening. She definitely was the star of the show. Her parents going all out to give her this special party. Many came and oh yes they brought presents.

There was laughter, food, smiles. And the most important of all God's presence. I think of the thousands of prayers that have went up for her since she first become sick. The cries and frantic pleas sent to the throne of God. Also some whys, hurry up. And from me, "I'm mad God." But through it all he had a plan. I could feel him smile last might. Because the beautiful part of all this. Is he saw back in all those months, last night. Her smile, her happiness. I watched the happy people. And I thought of all of those who had banded together for this little girl. With her tiara on and that wonderful smile.

All the hours so many put forth for the fundraisers and most of all for the prayers. People stopped their busy life's and talked to God. My Billie kept saying through it all, God has a reason, a plan. And she was right. I think he did. In the midst of all the craziness of our life's we forget sometimes just to stop and pray. Mikayla's illness brought together many people. The ones who drove miles to walk in the fundraiser, people who donated who maybe didn't have a extra dollar. God's love that shone through people was extraordinary.

So sitting in the twilight hours last night. I said thank-you God for this miracle. A little girl who in the joy of the evening had forgotten all the pain and misery she had been through. It never touched her spirit or her smile. That smile was always there. I also watched Mikes two brothers and his sister. All of them there, helping, working to make the party a success. Her grandmother Billie and Grandpa Ron. All the ones who gave of themselves, over and over. I looked around as Brandi cooked burgers and smiled. I am a very lucky woman to be a part of these wonderful people. Good going God. Thank-you for that blessed evening. You have done a wonderful job.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR BOBBY.

Here we go again, Friday morning. Now I won't repeat that same old line I use all the time. That time is flying by, but alas it is. So the weekend looms ahead. I hear the weather should be good. So enjoy.

On April 9th 1959. Robert Everett was born. To us that knew and loved him, he was Bobby. Bobby had a sense of humor, he was hard working and had a gentle spirit. Bobby was a kind young man who had knew many disappointments and spent many years trying to fit into a mold of what people wanted him to be. he was never able to make everyone happy. Many judged him without ever really getting to know him and what a great guy he was. If they never gave him chance. They were the loser.

My daughter Billie and him were not quite two months apart in age and were always best friends. She loved him and he loved her. When they were about three a friend of ours Nancy lived a block down from Mom. Dixie was at our house one day visiting Mom. The two little ones were outside playing. When Mom went to look for them, they were gone. I was at work. Mom and Dixie went hollering around the neighborhood looking for them. They were both scared to death. Dixie looked up the street ans saw them in the next block, in Nancy's yard. Mom started after them, she was so upset. Because she was so scared. When she got to them she hollered, "You two get home now." She reached down and swatted Billie on the butt. Mom said Bobby started laughing because Grandma Pearl had never spanked him and he didn't believe she would. She caught up with him and gave him a swat too. Mom said he looked at her in disbelief and started crying. His fat little legs taking him back to the house and his Mother.

They were sidekicks those two, Billie and Bobby. They did everything together. They told each other secrets, they went skating, movies. They lied for each other. Everyone said they even looked alike. Bobby spent lots of time at our house in their growing up years and we all loved him so.

When Bob become sick at age twenty-seven it was heartbreak for his Mother and all that loved him. I know it was a heavy heartache for Billie too. She spent the last year of his life driving her Aunt Dixie back and forth from here to Texas. When Bobby passed from this life, she sat on one side of his bed, his Mother on the other.

As I said Bobby was a gentle spirit. He could have lived his life in bitterness and anger at people who slighted him. But I for one never heard him complain or be bitter. I know when Bobby stepped from this life as we know it, there were many there to meet him. Oh yes I believe that to be true. And he never has had to face rejection from the people he cared about again. So Bobby you have been gone from us for twenty-two years. I would love to see you today. I know how proud you would be of all the kids. So Happy Birthday Bobby. You touched each of our life's and always will.

I am including a poem I wrote for Bobby in 1982. I know its not probably right to run in one of my own poems. But since its my Blog, I'm doing it anyway. It's called "Bobby's Song.


BOBBY'S SONG


Come walk with me, and be my friend.
And I will tell you tales.
Of empty days and lonely nights.
And silent trips to hell.

Though I walk a different path,
than others seem to go.
I do the very best I can.
Its the only way I know.

So walk with me and dream a dream,
If only for awhile.
Then maybe you will understand
That I am still God's child

And though I may be different
Than the world would have me be.
Be my friend,
For just a time.
Come and walk with me.


by Billye Swift

THE CELLAR OF LIFE.

Thursday morning, on the backside of the week. Or at least we are sliding into it. I slept till five and now I cannot get my motor running. At least the one that connects the brain. Its chilly out this morning, not cold, But definitely a nip in the air.

This is one of those mornings when have no idea what to write. I did not prepare ahead of time. No words perched on the edge ready to come to my rescue. No snappy lines to fall back on. A empty vacuum rambles around in my head. This will be hard for those that know me to believe but I am wordless this morning.

I suppose we all have days we are not quite as motivated as others. Usually I can bring forth something to to spark a interest that will fuel my self into action. I am not sure this is going to happen today. I usually do not have dark days. Days when I would like to crawl into the cellar of life and just stay there. Snarling at anyone who approaches as if I was a old dog that someone stepped on. I do not believe anyone would call me Mrs. Sunshine today.

Hopefully as the day edges its way into reality I will snap out of this and get with the program. I have always thought self pity was a total waste of time. Because quite frankly there just isn't anyone who really wants to sit and listen to all your problems and a list of slights you may believe have been heaped on your head. Get over it, on with it. Its very boring to launch a self pity party. Because believe me there is nobody that will want to attend.

Its the same thing when someone gets mad and unleashes a torrent of angry words at you. Of course in self defense we unleash right back all the angry verbs, nouns and adjectives we can muster.I have found this to be so useless. It raises my blood pressure and leaves a totally nasty taste in my mouth. Being mean on purpose can really be a bad feeling. When we know we or at least we feel we are innocent of any wrong doing its hard sometimes to keep my mouth shut. I strongly advise myself to work harder on doing that, just keeping my mouth shut.

Isn't it odd the way people argue, especially couples. Its as if there is a no holds barred sign that flashes on and any subject that might bring the opponent to their knees seems to be fair to use. Actually that's very petty. And I myself refuse to ever be pulled into one of those no holds barred matches again.

There is a little chorus, "Brighten the corner where you are." You know the bare truth is that life just isn't always fair. There are times when people just do not treat us as we think we deserve to be treated. Sometimes there is no one going to pull the light on in your corner but yourselves. So as I write these words, I'm going upstairs and get in my corner and turn on my light. It's time to brighten my corner. I sure hope I can find the light switch.

The Blog makes no sense at all. I sure do have those days. But I am alive, Thank you God for that fact. All is well in Billye land. I hope yours is the same. See ya!

THE GREAT PUDDLE BOUNCER

Hey, it Wednesday morning. It was beautiful yesterday, but suppose to be cooler today. Have you checked out that wind? Fierce at times. This is just what you needed, huh? A weather lady . I am plum giddy from this weather.

My son Jer is thirty-four. When he was about two and a half his cousin Bobby got married. They were married at Mom's church but Dixie had the reception at their house. I was excited. I wanted my boy to have a suit for the wedding. We both agreed he needed a suit for the big day. So off we went to Sears. We decided on a dark blue jacket with blue plaid pants. We also bought a dress shirt and tie. He was slick. His Dad and I thought he looked just wonderful. I also bought a new dress at Sears and usually they were out of our price range. But heck we thought, Bobby's getting married. A family wedding, we were going to looking our best.

The big day arrived. The ceremony went well. I had promised Dixie I would help with the reception. So we hurried back to the house. And their were others of our family helping too. Together we got everything set up. A champagne fountain, the works. The house was crowded. Dixie had not known the girls family. She had only talked to the Mother on the phone. They had a large amount of her family come. Dixie, I and the others were kept busy getting and keeping everything running smooth. Refilling bowls, all that good stuff. I thought Jer was with his Dad. Well he started out with his Dad. It just didn't turn out that way.

Bud and Dixie had bought that house about four years earlier. It had been built for them in a new development. The street was gravel, the drive was gravel. When ever it rained the yard become muddy because the yard was not seeded well yet and the drive become muddy too. Al came into the kitchen. "Is Jer in here with you?" he asked. I shook my head no as a nervous feeling came into my stomach. For the last minute I had been hearing the roar of laughter coming through the laundry room door. That door led to the garage and the drive. "Oh no," I thought. I ran for the laundry room, out the garage door. There was a group of strangers, the brides family, circled around this giant mud puddle. They were drinking champagne and having a great time watching something. All of a sudden this small figure with flying hair bounced up into the air into view. The figure was covered with mud. My heart sank, for there was Jer, my bouncy, trouncy Jer. Bouncing up and down in the middle of that mud puddle. In his brand new suit. His eyes were shining. He was having the time of his life. He was the center of attention. I rushed to the edge of the puddle, shooting mean glances at all the adults who hadn't even tried to get a small child out of a mud puddle.

"Jeremy Preston," I yelled sternly. "Get out of there now." Smiling he shook his head no. He wa shaving a great time. Why in the world would he want to come out? I had to get him, I knew that. The people parted as I waded in, new dress and all. I picked him up. He did not want to go. Holding my head up as high as I could I stalked out of puddle and through the kitchen headed for the bathroom. we were leaving mud and water with every step. He was covered from head to toe. Dixie looked up. Her face paled, "Good grief Billye, what happened." I couldn't speak. I just kept moving.

I got in the bathroom and locked the door and started trying to clean him up. "Jer," I wailed. "Why did you do that." He just kept laughing. He was so dang happy. I know people will say I probably should have spanked him. But I could not do it. He was so delighted. How do you get mad at a first rate puddle bouncer. He looked just like he had springs on his feet. As I stood looking at his muddy little face and that big smile. I had to smile too. So him and I in our muddy clothes and his Dad, left the party early. Thats okay really I didn't much like the brides family anyway.

MY HUNDREDTH DAY!

Tuesday morning, April 6th. It is 3:45. I am up, the dogs are up. I couldn't sleep. The weather seems good, so we shall have to let the day go forward and see what it brings.

I personally keep listening for a drum roll. Thinking there should be one somewhere for me. Today is my hundredth day. Can you believe it? Now I know that seems no big deal to anyone else but it is to me. I started this on December 28th, I had watched a movie I had received for Christmas, I thought it might be fun to try. I was feeling kind of low and thought why not. I made this big brag. I would do this for 365 days, One year. Probably not really meaning it, just saying the words. Then a odd process began. I started thinking of what it would mean to leave a little piece of me behind.

I hope if you read these words that lay before you. That you will first take a look at the pictures at the top of the page. This is them, the crew, the greatgrands, yes these smiling guys are the Greatgrands. What a bunch. When this was taken our famous family hero Malachi was not old enough to be in the picture. So I have left his picture on below the one of theirs. I cannot simply sitting here at this computer covey to you what this bunch means to me.

As the days passed with this blog, I began to think if I could just stay true to this, then have them put in book form. Maybe thirty years from now one or two of them will see it, pick it up, read it and say. "Oh yes, I remember Granny Billye. You know they say she always showed her cleavage." But they will remember, and they will read the words, my memories and my thoughts. I love the idea of that happening.

They are so special. We will pull up at Billies, they each usally come up to me at different times. A hug, a smile. They never know what those small gestures mean to me. They each are different, they each are a small part of me. So kids if years down the road you come across these words. I hope you know that each of you has given me such pleasure and joy.

Writing this Blog has been a challenge for me. I intend to do all in my power to finish this year. I have always had a love of writing. I am not a great writer, but could always take a idea and make up a story. Make these people come to life to me. The end product was never always good but I still have had that ability to create them. But this Blog is a really different concept. This hasn't been make believe. So I have stumbled around and sometimes have written a page that was totally pathetic. Actually may times. If you have read these then you already know about those many days. But thanks to one person, I have been able to prevail these last hundred days.

Geri, my sister has listened every morning before six o:clock to these ramblings of mine. She has encouraged. When I have written pure fourth grade type essay's, she has still kept urging, keep going. When I said this is silly nobody reads this trash. She has kept the praise up, the little red engine theory going for me. "Oh yes I can." Now I realize one hundred days does not a year make. But for me to stick with it for that long is a serious step for me.

These daily blogs may not mean much at all. Just silly words of a rambling woman. But a little part of my memories, feelings, thoughts and beliefs I hope will be left behind. So with the thought of these smiling faces at the top of the page I have kept going. My long term goal to have them all put together at the end of the year. So one day years from now they can say, "We had this crazy greatgranny who wrote a daily blog for a year. She was a hoot." So for all you guys, Angel, Andrew, Orien, Damien, Darian, Mikayla, Malachi, Kiefer, Amber, Victoria, Brett, Bradly, Ryan. These pages guys are for all of you. A small part of me to leave behind, so you won't forget me. I love you all.

So with my first hundred days behind me and only 265 more days to go. I will take a deep breath and keep on rolling. Because as I told my sister Geri a couple of weeks back it doesn't really matter if anyone reads these. It matters to me that I finish it. So tomorrow once again I will be back. I will try to do better. But you know the drill. For now I'm outta here.

WILL THE BARTENDER

Monday again. With lighting speed the weekend is over. The weather was beautiful yesterday. A little windy but that didn't matter. If I had ordered the weather it couldn't have been better.. Now the new week is here. Laid out with all its surprises and everyday occurrences. So hold onto your hats. We're in for another ride.

Breakfast at my Billie's was fun. The food good the company great. All were there except for Mike and family and Rob and family. I always feel a little bad when Billie works so hard on a family event. It seems she is always working at something or another. I admire both my children as I have written before but Billie has this unselfish nature that Jer and I lack. I think I give, Jer gives. But we both have a spirit where we think of ourselves too. Billie seems not to have that. She is driven to give, give, give. So Easter 2010 was perfect for me.

We met my brother later in the afternoon at the bowling alley, Smiling Bud. Its always good to touch base with him especially on a holiday. I am not a drinker. I have never been much of one but a week or so ago I had a mudslide at bowl East. Made by my daughter. It was good. She wasn't working yesterday. So I asked Will if he knew how to make them. Well, I think he staggered back a step or two. "I am." he chided me, "A bartender." I can make anything Mom can. " So Will my hat is off to you. The mudslide was great. The only thing they may have been just a tad bit stronger than I am use too. Billie always goes a little easy on my drinks. Knowing I am a pansy waist when it comes to liquor.

The kids were cute, funny, and each special. Oh I know all grandma's say that but all of ours really are. I always wanted to live till my kids were grown. Then I wanted to live till my grandkids were grown. Now I want to stay till the greatgrands are grown. They are all so special. So see how I am. There I guess will never be a time when I am ready.

I had told myself I would start walking this morning. I am tired. I have made the excuse that it looks like it might have rained. The bare line truth is the two mudslides that may have been poured with a slightly heavy hand may have taken my motivation away. So I think I may postpone the walk until tomorrow.

Another day when there has been nothing witty, inspirational or mind blowing written. I always laugh when I write that line. As if I have previously wrote all those things. But this morning just the thoughts on my Easter. Oh I rode in a beautiful Corvette converitable. But I want to tell you about that ride some morning when someone sends me the picture.. What Easter morning wouldn't be great when you have rode in a red convertible? So I wll fade away for another day. Sip my coffee and try vainly to clear the cobwebs from my mind. I will be on the look out today for all these magical signs of spring that are every where I look. It might behove you to do the same. But for now I'm outta here.

HAPPY EASTER

Easter 2010. Another Easter. I am happy to see one more. I really hope to be around next year but then you never know. We are going to Billie's for Easter breakfast. Lots of little children and candy. A wild and crazy morning. The weather is suppose to go good, so here's hoping.

Easter was traditional at our house. We went to church, but we went to church three or more times a week holiday or not. We colored eggs. Mom always filled cups of water with food coloring and we dunked and decorated away. But the spiritual was the main focus. We knew what Easter meant from a very early age. The Resurrection, the cross, the heavy price paid. Then the fulfilment of the promise on the third day that Christ had arisen. I wonder today as so many children have their little baskets filled with candy and their crisp, bright new clothes have ever been told the story of Easter. The promise this holiday holds.

It matters not what church you go to. Or even if you go to church. If you have new clothes, or a sad old dress or shabby pants to wear. What matters is that you believe that Christ willingly gave his life that we might always have life. Even after this life as we know it is over.

We have a two bags full of twenty-five peeps. I will eat my meal with my family. I will love every minute of it.I'll even have a bite of candy or two. And that's okay. But be sure you and yours knows what this holiday is all about. Jesus, His price, his promise. I have picked a poem to run today. I hope you all have a great Easter and spend it with those you love. So till tomorrow. I'm outta here.


Easter Joy

Jesus came to earth,
To show us how to live,
How to put others first,
How to love and how to give.


Then He set about His work,
That God sent Him to do;
He took our punishment on Himself;
He made us clean and new.


He could have saved Himself,
Calling angels from above,
But He chose to pay our price for sin;
He paid it out of love.


Our Lord died on Good Friday,
But the cross did not destroy
His resurrection on Easter morn
That fills our hearts with joy.


Now we know our earthly death,
Like His, is just a rest.
We'll be forever with Him
In heaven, where life is best.


So we live our lives for Jesus,
Think of Him in all we do.
Thank you Savior; Thank you Lord.
Help us love like you!


By Joanna Fuchs

THE SAD DAY PEEPS DIED.

Hey, wake up it's Saturday morning. They are saying beautiful weather today. I am so ready for it. We had rain yesterday so hopefully the sun shines today and tomorrow. I am going to a garage sale today with my friend Joan. Yahoo, I love those things.

In Easter of 1961 before Billie turned two in May. I decided I would buy her a baby chick for Easter. We lived with Mom and Dad on Missouri street. Several times the week before I had walked past the feed store that was at thirteenth and Main. All that week in the window they had baby chicks running around in a pen. I wanted her to have one. On Friday I told my Mom I wanted to go to the feed store after work on Saturday and buy a baby chick for Billie for Easter. Mom kind of frowned. "I don't know," she said. She's pretty small to have one. "No she's not," I argued, "She'll do good with it, I know she will".

So the next day after work Mom drove me to the feed store. She sat in the car with Billie while I went in to get the surprise. Mom had even brought along a towel to wrap it in. I went inside and looked the chicks over. One cute little yellow fluff caught my eye. "Peeps," I thought. I bought him, carefully wrapping him up, bought seed and went to the car. "Look Billie," I said as I unwrapped the little Peeps. "See what I got you." She laughed, she reached for him. "No," Mom said. "Don't let her have him yet. Wait till we get home and get him in the box." Mom had already fixed a box in the dining room and a small cup of water. We were set. Billie had her first Easter chick. Life was good.

We got home and put him in the box. I got down on the floor with her and took her little hand and let her touch him. "Peeps," she would say softly. All of a sudden she got up and came back with her little red rocking chair and a small blanket. "Wanna rock Peeps," she said with little arms out stretched. Mom and I both said, "Oh how cute. She wants to rock him"

I gently picked him up and we put him in her blanket. She started rocking with all her might. With all the maternal instincts a two year old can have. Mom and I sat at the table saying how cute she looked. How sweet she was. She was an angel rocking her little Peeps.

After a little bit Mom said, "You better put him back in the box awhile. She's got a pretty tight hold of him." I took Peeps away over Billie's protest. I put him in the box. He staggered a little but soon seemed to get his bearings again. And walked around the box scratching and peeping. Billie laughed, she was happy. I was happy, Mom was happy. Then she reached into the box. "Wanna rock," she said. I looked at Mom. "Well maybe for a little while more, but not much. She has him covered up so tight," Mom said. We gave him back to her. She started rocking, we started smiling again. Then after just awhile Mom said, "You better put him back in the box." Over Billie's protest I reached for the blanket.

I opened the blanket. Peeps lay there very still. I touched him with my finger. He still didn't move. "Mom," I screamed., "He's not moving." I thrust the blanket with the little corpse towards Mom. Billie watching us her eyes big. "He's dead," Mom whispered. "I knew that,"I whispered back. She handed the towel to me. You better take him out and get rid of him. I jumped back. "Not me," I hissed. I scooped Billie up. "I've got to explain to her where Peeps has gone. I raced for the living room. The last I saw of Mom she was headed for the back door, shaking her head.

I told Billie Peeps had to go back to his Mother. He was too young to stay away. She cried but soon was playing with her doll and forgot all about Peeps. I never asked Mom what she did with him. I didn't want to know. But I stayed away from the trash can for a week, just to be on the safe side.

The moral to this story is if you have little ones do not buy them a cute little live animal for Easter. No matter how sweet and fluffy they are. I shudder now to think we sat there and let her rock the poor little fluff ball to death. All the while saying, "Look how cute she is." She was cute, but only two years old. Not even quite two yet. She did't know. Mom and I didn't speak of Peeps again. We both felt so bad. Every year Steve buys those little marshmellow chicks for all the greatgrands for Easter. He calls them Peeps. "I've got to buy Peeps," he'll say. That really brings back bad memories. Poor Peeps, may he rest in peace. But for now I'm outta here.