Gotta Be Careful

I guess I am not politically correct enough in my speech and I have to be careful of that.  I hate having to stop and think before I make a wise crack.  I don't want to hurt any one's feelings.

I don't think I have a racist bone in my body.  Growing up out in the rural farm area, there were no other races to be racist about.  People were judged on the way they lived their lives.  Honest people or dishonest people.  Pretty plain and simple.

Growing up, I don't think anyone is my family was racist.  After all, my Grandmother had a Japanese man working for her during WWII.  He was a professional chicken sexer and came every Sunday to determine the sex of the baby chicks that we had just pulled from the incubators, and before the chicks were sold.  None of our neighbor's had a problem with him either.

His entire family, who were born in the US and all citizens, but who lived in California, were put into interment camps by President Roosevelt, but he wasn't bitter about it.    It was as it was.

When I was older, we had men from Flint come out to the farm.  They wanted permission to train their coon dogs back in the woods.  If asked, we would have called them "Negros".  They were great guys.  

They never trampled down a fence back in the woods.  They never damaged anything.  Not like some of the white guys who came out and wanted to hunt in the woods.  After my Daddy saw the careless way they acted and hunted, he quit allowing them that privilege.  If asked, we would have called them, "City People", which was not a nice connotation back then.  

My Daddy had a bad experience with a couple of neighbor boys who had moved out from the city. They wanted him to show them how to repair a wagon.  He did.

After they left, he found most of his tools missing.  The tools were laying on the ground under the wagon they had repaired.  "City people!  They'll steal anything that isn't nailed down," was his comment.

After I was married and moved out, my Uncle told my Daddy about a man he knew, who knew a man, who knew another man who had been living with his niece and nephew.  The niece and nephew were moving away and the man needed a place to stay and work.

Daddy hired him and moved him into a trailer on the farm.  The man could not write and he barely spoke English.  "I just dumb Pollock," he always said.

He was a hard worker and a very sweet man.  We called him Pete, because that was his name.  When he died many years later, with no family around, we had a funeral and he is buried on our family plot in the nearby cemetery.

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BUT--phrases or comments made back in the old days, that elicited no response or carried no offense then, now do.

On Face Book the other day, a friend had posted a video showing a Black Labrador dog running around and around and around a tree.  Round and round and round.  I commented, "He reminds me of Little Black Sambo", but before I hit the "post" button, I reminded myself that it was not PC to say that.

 Didn't we all grow up with the story about Little Black Sambo?  He and that tiger ran around and around that palm tree until the tiger turned into butter.  The little boy lived in Africa.  His skin was black.   He was cute and I thought his name was cute.  Not so cute nowadays.

When I was a little kid, I had a Hopalong Cassidy cap pistol/holster set, a black cowboy hat and vest and a pair of cowboy boots.  I used to get on my bike and ride up and down the road, shooting (imaginary) Indians that were hiding in the bushes and going to ride out and scalp me.

My Mother also made me an Indian princess dress out of burlap, a beautiful headband with a feather in the back, bought me a pair of beaded moccasins, and also built me a 10 feet tall Tee Pee out of canvas.  I had an Indian blanket in the Tee Pee and I'd play in there all day.

One of my favorite things were the cardboard dividers that came in the Shredded Wheat box.  All about Injun Joe and how to make a stove out of an old Crisco can.  Or how to make a whistle out of reeds found in the roadside ditch.  Or how to make a halter to tie my big dog up to the sled or wagon to get a ride.  My Mother and I spent almost one whole day making a Wikkiup, for that big dog to haul around.

I still love anything Indian Native American. I have had that doll since I was 8 years old.  I watched as those sand paintings were made.  The lady who made them was such an artisan!

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I didn't think any of these scenarios were racist or prejudicial.  As I ventured out into my adult life, I had no prejudices that I knew of.  I met my first Negro African American, when I attended college at age 24.  Her name was Lorena and we shared a gym locker in Phys Ed. class.  

A strange conversation that first day.  All the other girls got their lockers and put away their clothes to change into shorts and T-shirts. I asked Lorena if I could share with her.

She said, "Are you sure?"

"Sure.  Unless you don't want too."

"No one wants to share with me," she said.

"Why?"

"Because they think niggers stink and I will stink up their clothes."

I was speechless.  She was the only Black, Black American, African American, girl in the class.  We became friends, although that was the only class we shared.

<back in 1964 the term "Blacks" was still used>

We met in the Cafeteria for lunch every day.  I sat with her friends.  She teased me because I ate my Muskmelon with a fork.  I teased her because she called is Mushmelon.  "It's not MuShmelon," I'd say.
It's MusKmelon."  We jokingly argued about that.

Then she said, "Let's just call it Cantaloupe.  You eat it with a fork and I'll pick it up and eat it like your "possed" to."

"Huh?  Cantaloupe?  I thought that was the green kind of melon."

She just shook her head at the uneducated, farm girl I was.

================

Then I met two guys in my Sociology class.  One was sort of light brown color, with jet black, straight hair.  He had a very aquiline nose and broad forehead.  I thought he was probably an Indian.  The other kid was almost purple he was so dark.  He was kind of small and his speech was fast and quick.  I could barely understand him.  We used to meet in the Student Union every afternoon for an hour between classes.  One day, we were joined by a blonde guy.  He was very handsome.  His name was Len.  Then a beautiful girl joined us, she had olive colored skin .

We looked liked the United Nations, sitting there. 

Over the course of time, discussing our Sociology class, and life in general, I looked at the guy I thought was Indian and said, "Are you an Indian?"  Before I could answer, the kid who was purple black said, "No.  I'm Indian, he's Native American."

"Huh?"

Then the blonde guy said, "I'm German."

"Oh.  So am I," I replied.

"Yeah, but I'm a  German Jew."

"Huh?"

Then the girl piped up and said, "I'm Lebanese."

<Oh, she must be a Catholic, I thought.  What did they call them?  Chaldean Christian?>

"I'm a Lebanese Jew."

"Huh?"

They kind of looked at me and all I could think of saying was, "Oh--I'm just a country farm girl and I don't know anything!" 

===============

I grew to love every single one of those kids.  Every day we met in the Union for that glorious hour.

I learned that the Indian had grown up on a reservation up near Midland Michigan. He was part of the Isabella tribe. When little, he had been forced into a white school to be "indoctrinated."  The purple Indian was from India. His father was a professor at the college.  He was Catholic, instead of Hindu.  The Lebanese girl's family had fled because of religious persecution from the Arabs, even though---she was Arabic!  The blonde German had grown up in Germany during WWII.  He had the scars on his legs to prove it.  A beating, with chains, by a Nazi youth group.  His family fled just as the persecution of Jews was beginning.

And---there I was.  Just a white  pinkish colored farm girl who had never gone through anything scary or ever been persecuted.

============

What I've learned, doing genealogy?  ALL of our ancestor's have been persecuted in some way.  Whether because of their religious beliefs, or ethnicity, or just because of where they lived.   AND--every single one of them had the same desire.  To make a better life for their descendants.  

Every.  Single.  One.

We all have different ethnicity's in our DNA.  We think we are, "German, English."  or,  "Catholic, Protestant, Jewish"  and then we find out, waaaaaay back in time, our 10 Great Grand Father married a Native American.  Or our Protestant 9th Great Grand Father married an Irish Catholic girl.  Perhaps, like a guy I met once, his 3rd Great Grand Father (white) married an African American girl.  There have been wars fought over religion and ethnicity and yet...somehow people ignored that in the name of love.

We really are all the same on the inside!  We have absolutely no reason to be biased against any other human being.  However, I do think we are allowed to judge individuals on how they live their lives and how they act.  

I do not discriminate against any ethnicity, religion, creed, lifestyle or political leanings.  I have ALL in my family, or have known all.  But...I do want to spend my time with those that are loving, kind, gentle and honest.  If they aren't, I don't want to spend time with them.  So...I guess I am judgmental.

Be they white, black, yellow, tan or red.  Be they Catholic, Protestant, Jew or Muslim or my Wiccan neighbor.  Be they Conservative or Liberal.  Be they NRA members or anti-gun.  Be they straight or gay or somewhere in between.  Be they mentally whole or slightly over the edge.  Or even those "City People"!

I just have to be careful and more PC and more sophisticated and not respond like the uneducated, naive, farm girl that still lurks inside my head. LOL   

Who Am I? Where Am I?

Like the proverbial chicken with her head cut off,  I am running around, minus my head sometimes, which results in ------not taking time to blog!

I would catch you up and tell you what I did Wednesday, but I have quite forgotten.  LOL  I do remember driving up to the print shop to have 2 copies made of the genealogy pedigrees I am finishing up.  I do remember that when the copies came out of the Xerox machine, there were mistakes.  I do remember hurrying home to fix and reprint the pedigrees so I could get back to the Print Shop before they closed.

I distinctly remember Dar walking in about a half hour later and staying for 2 hours.  

"I'm so upset.  I had to come over so you can calm me down!"

<Dear Lord.  Who made me responsible as the guardian of the health of this woman's mental stability?>

When her blood pressure was down and she was feeling better, she left.  Half an hour later, John stopped by.  He is worried about his dog, Maizey and he needed reassurance that he is doing the right thing about NOT putting her down just yet and spending $800.00 to bring her back to life!

It was 9:00 by the time he left.  I had had no supper.  I needed to feed my Purry Furries and I was exhausted!

I swear to you--I am about to hang out my shingle and become Lucy.

 

============

I go to bed at midnight, so at 10:30, I sat down in front of the computer to fix the pedigrees so I could get them printed on Thursday morning.  

For some unknown reason, my printer refused to print!  I shut if off, waited, turned it back on, and it printed out some sort of gobbley-gook!  

I have been having trouble with it for weeks.  It's about 10 years old and I do a whole lot of printing.   Last Sunday night, I got so frustrated that I got on E-bay and ordered one exactly like it--remanufactured!

I went to bed.

==============

When I woke up Thursday to a torrential rain storm, I remembered, lunch with the Old School Gal Pals.  I had to leave at noon.  I finished the pedigrees by coaxing my printer along, but didn't have time to drop them off at the Print Shop.

I took off and I felt like a storm chaser!  Every time I drove out of a rain storm, I could see dark clouds ahead and within a few miles, I was in another one.  Wipers going 60 miles and hour, slowing down to a crawl, trying to see the edge of the road.  This happened twice.

Just as I got about 6 miles from where I was going, the rain stopped and everything was dry.  So dry that I noticed lawn were "July Brown".  It looked like they hadn't had any rain for a month.

I was first to arrive at the little hole-in-the-wall where we were doing lunch and went in a got a table for 8 set up.  9 showed up, counting me 10.  I sat on the end of the table, which I usually do anyway so I have a place to stick my long legs out to the side.

We had a great time!  Even the two ladies that drive us nuts, with their competition to dominate the conversation, were rather quiet.  We all got to talk and comment back and forth.  No political talk--we know better than that!  A tiny little pizza restaurant, I think I had the best Antipasto salad ever!!!!!

As we were about to leave, someone mentioned how they wished it would rain.  I stepped to the door to go out and it was pelting down rain so hard we could barely see across the street.  More than one of us stated, "I do have an umbrella with me. Unfortunately, it's in the car!"  I told them they all owed me a debt of gratitude for bringing the rain with me and they gave me a rousing cheer!

A an interesting part of our meeting--one of our friends showed up with a "surprise" guest.  We were all asked if we knew her.  She did look a bit familiar, but none of us could come up with a name.

"She was in the band."  Hm-mm.  I should know her then.  "She was a cheerleader."

I knew she hadn't graduated with us, so I begged to be enlightened.  "It's been fifty-nine years since we graduated.  We've all changed a little bit.  Tell me your name!"

"Judy Streeter," she said.  "I moved between eighth grade and high school."

"Oh my gosh!" I said.  "That's sixty-two years ago, but I remember you!"  and I gave her a hug.  "You haven't grown an inch since then."

"Well, you have!"  she replied.  We all had a good laugh and we invited her to our class reunion in August.

================

Then I headed out to The Farm in the rainstorm.  Chuck & Susan were ecstatic that they were getting the first rain in weeks.  I once again proclaimed that I deserved the credit and Chuck bowed to me.

Susie and I chatted for about an hour and then I headed out and stopped at Pammies.  She has started a new summer work schedule at the school. To work at 7:00 and out of work at 1:30 pm.

She had taken her brother Mark to his 3rd chemo treatment the day before and I asked how she handled it.  Pammie can't even stand to see someone get their finger pricked, let alone IV's inserted.  She said, "I turned and looked out the window while they were getting him set up and then I could look."

I found out that Jennifer is home staying with Karen and working at her old Law Office this past week and all four of the kids are headed up north to Karen's in-laws cottage for a weekend together this weekend. They will celebrate Father's Day with their Dad who only lives a few miles away.

"How wonderful!"  I said.  "I hope you all have a great time!"

<not a trace of bitterness in my voice>

Did they all gather around their Momma on Mother's Day? You ask.  Their Mother's birthday is this Tuesday.  Are they going to gather around their Mother, the woman who gave them birth? You ask.

Maybe I need to buy a cottage up north on a lake and I would see them more often?

================

I got home about 6:15 and Dar walked in at 6:30. EGADS & LITTLE FISH HOOKS!

Her Father was taken to the ER in the middle of the night and she was very upset that her brother hadn't called to tell her until 8:00 in the morning.

So, I listened to her rant and agreed with her on some points (because that's what a good psychiatrist does).  Then pointed out to her that most probably her father didn't want her brother to call and disturb her sleep, because, "You've been going through so much lately." and she calmed down.

Now she is having a problem because she told her son he had to move out by month's end and the other day he mentioned, "I guess we'll have to live in our van again."  

"I feel sorta bad for them."

"Well, they lived in their van for three months before they showed up at  your house.  You have offered to go with him to find government housing.  You have offered to get him on Welfare.  You have done all you can."

"Plus, Daddy wants to come live with me in July.  And, my sister-in-law told my brother she is done and wants "the old man out of my house!'"

"I just wish your Dad would consent to go and look at the beautiful senior living places they have around here.  He can afford the best and they are beautiful places.  He wouldn't be lonely and he would get so much attention from all the women residents...he'd be in heaven!"

"Well, he won't.  He told me I am going to retire and he will pay all my bills and we will go places and have a great time."

"Okay.  I thought you wanted to stay working."

"I do!"

"Well, you better get all that settled before he moves in or you will start to resent him when you have to stay home all day."

She left.  

John stopped by within minutes.  Thankfully, now that it's summer he is only coming by once a day--usually in the evening.

===========

I got up this morning and got my genealogy pedigrees done and off to the Print Shop to get them copies and then up to Walmart to get cat food.

My new "old" printer arrived this afternoon.  I set it up and got both genealogy books finished.  One is in a three ring binder and the other I will take up to the Print Shop Monday to be bound into a book and then mail them off Tuesday.

   

This is what my living room looks like when I am working on putting the final touches on a genealogy book.

Tomorrow will be clean up day---until my next project.

A Mixture

Do we ever have a day in our life where everything just goes along all fine?

Well, yes.  Some day's are like that for me.  Thankfully more days are like that, then days of complications.

Today was not one of those days!

I got a call early this morning.  They are delivering my new FREE refrigerator next Friday!  YAY
I got a UPS delivery with my special printing paper I ordered from Staples on Sunday.  YAY.  Now I can get the book(s) finished for my client.
I got my mail and there was a letter from DHS (Welfare) that my food assistance has been too low at $15.00, so for the next 4 months they have raised it to $65.00 a month.  YAY.
I ran up to the print shop and got my pedigrees for the genealogy book all printed out.  YAY.

Then, I had lunch, watched my Soap and the day turned to crapola!
=======================
I got a registered letter from the Social Security Administration that stated, the DHS of Michigan will no longer pay my Medicare Part B, and they shouldn't have paid it last month, so on July 3rd, my SS benefit will be $735.00 instead of $978.00.  From August on, it will be $835.00 a month.  I can barely make it on $978.00 a month as it is, but was getting caught up on the Dentist and Chiropractor's bill, and got my car fixed and now?  

My expenses are $1,108.00 a month.  That doesn't include food!  Electrical bill went up.  Car insurance went up.  Comcast bill came down, food assistance went up.  Still, I am once again back to being short every month.

I got on the phone and called my case worker.  They NEVER answer the phone, so I left a very calm message asking if she knew why they were not going to pay my Medicare, as my income has not gone up and I have two new doctor bills to pay off.  

Then I decided today was a good day to drive on up to the Secretary of State's office to renew my driver's license and get my new tabs.  I checked on-line and it said "Tuesday or Wednesday afternoon, between 2:00-4:00.  I got there at 2:15.  The lady said it would be about an hour and forty-five minute wait.

I thought she was kidding because, although there were a lot of people waiting, there were 5 clerks working and the numbers seemed to going quite quickly.  Half an hour later, 4 of the 5 clerks took their break.  No one covered for them.  That meant, one person was working.  Their break lasted 30 minutes.  

The lady lied to me.  It didn't take an hour and forty-five minutes.  It took an hour and fifty-five minutes.  I had not taken a book with me.  I can hardly sit still for 2 hours, and I had to pee every 45 minutes.  So walking to and from the bathroom eased my back from sitting on the hard plastic chair for 2 hours.

Thankfully, here in Michigan, we only have to renew in person every 4 years.  Plus, they don't have us do the written test anymore--which I actually thought the funnest part of going there!!!

The painter, that I contacted on May 16th, who said he'd get back with me, didn't so I called him the other day.  He asked me to "refresh his memory."  Professional painter and he can't remember the appointments he has made?  He was supposed to call me back either yesterday or today to schedule my paint job.  I may just cancel him.  Lord knows, I will need that money I've saved up to live on the next few months!!!
=================
I am staying calm and positive.  I have no control over any of this.  I asked God to handle it for me.  I've been talking the talk, about not worrying or stressing about things, to Let Go and Let God.  Now I gotta walk the talk.

Bragging Rights

Karen & Mark's youngest son.  

Stephen had his White Coat ceremony Friday night.  He starts medical school at Michigan State University, in two weeks.

<isn't Karen pretty?>

Madeleine is safely back home after two weeks in Guatemala--she went to just visit her host Momma and ended up helping to build another house.

 Quite the family

Lets see:  

#2 child, Susanna Elaine: got a Track scholarship to Grand Valley State University (Grand Rapids, MI), lives in Portland, OR. , works for New Balance shoe company, travels all over the states and runs in marathons.

#1 child, Helene Mary:  Master's Degree in some sort of satellite engineering.  Lives in Ann Arbor with her hubs Mike, expecting a baby girl in October, works for a government contract company, viewing images from satellites in space. 

#3 child, Marcus James:  Master's Degree in Nuclear Engineering.  Lives in Ann Arbor, works for the largest electric supply company  in the State, in their nuclear power plant.

Mom Karen Helene:  Master's Degree in education.  Teaches math at a Catholic girls high school  Home schooled all five children.

# 5 child, Madeleine Sophia:  Studying nursing at a local community college.  Wants to be an Elder Care nurse.  Dances ballet.  Builds homes in poor countries in South America.

#4 child, Stephen Charles:  Just graduated with a degree in Physiology.  Starts medical school.  Wants to be an ER doctor.  

...and I suppose I should mention their father:  Mark Thomas, who also has a Master's Degree in the same field as Helene and she works with him at the same company.  What they do is quite secretive.

Quite the family.

SpookyThings and Oddities, oh...and Dar Too.

Have you ever had a really, unexplainable coincidence, that was so spooky it gave you goose bumps?

Yesterday morning, John called just as I was getting into the shower.  He said he'd wait 45 minutes to take Maizey for her walk.  That would make it a bit late in the morning for their visit, but at least I would be dressed and ready for the day.

He stopped in and I was so glad to see Maizey.  She has been poorly lately and he and I both, expect one of these days soon, Maizey will be saying, "Nite Nite" for the last time.

He had just sat down to talk and there was a knock at my door.  I was expecting it to be Dar, so when I opened the door, it took me a few seconds to recognize a woman I started Kindergarten with and went all through school with.  I hadn't seen her in three years.  We squealed and hugged and squealed some more.  She was on her way to lunch with her daughter's and only had about 15 minutes.

I introduced her and John.  I just happened to mention that John grew up in Munising. (that's in our Upper Peninsula--many miles from here)

Janet said, "I have friends in Munising.  Do you know Bob and Jean Porter?"

John said, "Yes.  Bob was my neighbor.  We went to school together."

OH.  MY.  GOSH.

They started tossing out names of mutual friends--sometimes each having a hard time bringing the names up from their memory bank.  I just sorta stood back and watched.

Then Janet said, "Do you remember Pee Wee?  He worked with my husband Jack at Howell Metal."

John said, "Pee Wee?  Yeah.  I worked at Howell Metal too.  You don't mean Jack Sear do you?  Is he your husband?  I worked with him too!"

Then the light slowly started to dawn.  

John said, "Janet.  Are you Janet Sear?"

Janet said, "Yes.  What's your last name."

John told her and then the hugs came.

John turned to me and said, "My ex wife and I went to a party at their house.  Way out in the boonies."

I said, "I lived just a half-mile west from Janet and Jack's."

Then John looked back and forth at Janet and me and said, "You two girls have known each other...how long."

Janet said, "First day of Kindergarten."

I replied, "Seventy-two years."

Then Janet said, "but she's older than I am.....by two weeks."

We three stood there and looked at each other.  I said, "What a spooky coincidence.  John if you had come by earlier, you would have missed Janet."

Janet said, "I was 15 minutes early and just decided to swing in and see if I could find where you live."

John said, "I think God arranged this.  There is no other explanation."  Janet and I nodded our heads.

What a fantastic happening!  Janet also knows Merle and Pearl.  They lived across the road from one another at one time.  Janet said, "Next time I come this way, I'll stop and you and I will go and surprise Pearl!"

"She lives two houses up, in the gray house.  You'll see it on your way out."

=============================

I had my 6th month "meet and greet" with my doctor yesterday afternoon.  He was out so I got to see his PA--whom I like better than him.

She walked into the room and the first words out of her mouth were, "Holy Shit!"

I was so shocked I said, "WHAT?"  I really never expected that kind of talk from her!

"Your blood work is amazing!  I have never seen anything like it from a person your age!"

"Yeah...doc told me in January that my blood tests were like that of a fifty year old."

"I'm a fifty year old and mine aren't this good! 

She waggled the report at me and said, "This report is like someone in their thirties!"

She lays the stethoscope on my chest, "You've got the heart of an athlete.  Strong, steady and slow.  Do you exercise a lot?"

"Never."

"You must walk a lot then?"

"Nope.  The only time I walk is when I go to Walmart, grocery shopping."

Then she put the stethoscope on each side of my neck to check my carotid arteries.  "You don't have a bit of plaque!  Do you eat a healthy died?"

"Nope".

Then she checked all over my back and had me hold my breath and then cough really hard.  "Lungs are clear and good.  No rales, no wheezes.  You stopped smoking years ago, right?"

"Nope."

Then she looked at the blood work report again.  "Your kidney and liver function is perfect!  Do you drink a lot of water?"

"Nope.  I drink a lot of Diet Pepsi though."

"How often do you drink alcohol?"

"Never."

"I don't mean like a glass of wine once in awhile, I mean like a cocktail."

"I don't ever drink alcohol.  I never have."

She stepped back and leaned against the little sink in the corner of the room.  Crossed her arms and said, "I can honestly tell you.  I have NEVER met anyone who doesn't drink a little alcohol once in awhile.  Even my minister has a little wine every now and then."

"Well, here I am!"

She shook her head and said, "Okay.  We're done here."

I stood up, she looked up at me, "I'll bet you don't have osteoporosis either, do you?"

"Nope.  I do have arthritis though."

"Well...at least that's something!"

"Okay", I said.  "I'll see you in six months?"

"How about six years!"

===========================

It has taken me three years to get my doc to lengthen my check-up out to six months.  Because of my AGE--he thinks I should come in every four months.  I always bargained with him and went in every five months.  Then in January he said I could come in every six months.  I think.....if I am feeling well, I just might take it out to a year!!

<or, I could drop dead of pancreatic cancer by September.  We just never know.>

==================

I barely walked in the door when I got home and there was Dar, coming in behind me.

EGADS and LITTLE FISH HOOKS!!!

She had been back to see her "special" medical physical therapist and she wanted to tell me all about it.  She WILL have to have an EMG--the doc said there was no other way to tell what nerves are causing the numbness in her arms.  

She went into a rant about the fact that she told her son and his kids to GET OUT by the end of the month, and he still hasn't started looking for a place to rent.

"Why should he?"  I asked.  "He's got it made at your place."

"Well, he HAS to leave.  I can't stand them anymore.  I wanted Daddy to come live with me and he wants to, so........................".

"You don't think your Dad would drive you nuts after awhile too?"

"I am rethinking that.  We just found out he has an aortic aneurysm.  It's at 4.  I don't want it to rupture and him bleed all over the place and die if he's living with me!"

"Oh my Gosh, Dar.  That's very serious!"

"I know.  He's going in to a vascular specialist next week.  They are going to do an Echo on him to see just how big it is and if they will operate."

"That's a very serious operation, especially at his age."

"Well, we are going to have a birthday party for him on the nineteenth, for his ninety-fifth birthday and Father's Day."

"Gosh.  I'm sorry."

"I invited him to come live with me and now...I don't know how to get out of it."

<because it is ALWAYS all about Dar>

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Have a great weekend!  It is supposed to be hot and steamy with some bad storms around here on Saturday.  I think I will stay hunkered down inside with the A/C on and work on putting the genealogy book together.

Later--------

  

Family Tree Book

In regards of how I do a genealogy book,  the image below is how most family trees look.

I think that is way too confusing.
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My family group pages look like this:

Plus a bit of a background story, if there is one.

Plus a separate page showing, more clearly the information:

On this page would also be photos of the person, stories, proof of their military service, obituaries, photos of their gravestones, anything I can find on them.

Plus a separate page that I make on Excel with the pedigree.  Sometimes these Pedigrees go back 25-30 generations.  I print them out.  Cut and paste them together and have the print shop, copy them onto architect paper which is 11 x whatever length necessary.  It has to be 11" on the left side to be punched and fit in the book.  I then fold them up, inside the book, so the person can unfold them to whatever length they may be.

When I have all the information I can glean, I make a Word document, in story form.  I start with the person's father and work from his oldest ancestor DOWN.  At times the wives have an interesting lineage, so I include their pedigrees and stories of their ancestor's too.  Trying to keep all this information in a cohesive, understandable format can be challenging.

Then, I start the second section of the book with the person's mother and work my way UP through her lineage.

Most of the books end up being 100 pages or more.  I use nice sturdy matte paper ($41.00 for a box of 150 sheets) to print it out, then have it "combed" (punched) by the print shop with a nice clear cover, showing a family tree and a sturdy back cover, on a heavy duty coil for the spine.  This keeps the pages from tearing out and the pages lay flat for easy reading.

Sometimes these books take two or three months to do.  The research is what takes the longest.  There are so many places to look for whatever I can find.  I love the writing and creating the book part the most!

While I am writing the story, I am thinking of all these many ancestor's--hundred and hundreds of them.  What trials they might have gone through.  Some very wealthy, minimal trials, but perhaps died young.  Some dying on a battle field somewhere.  Crusader Knights, leaving their wives and children for years at a time.  

Some, very simple people, but with a courage I would not have had--to leave family, get on a ship and sail clear across that big ocean to start a new life here.  Many indentured servants, working for land owners and saving every penny, until they could buy land of their own and start their own family dynasty?

What about our Native Americans?  Living their own happy, contented lives, until unknown, strange looking white human beings came and kept pushing them off their own land.  Taking their land by force and not paying them a cent for it.  Killing their food supply for sport.  Pushing, pushing--ever backward into a concentrated area.  It makes me weep.

The African's that my 7th Great Grand Father's brother brought on a British ship to Virginia to be slaves.  Thankfully not my own Great Grand Father, who was a minister, but his brother.  What about them?  One time, back in the 1960's, while sitting in a motel in Virginia, I opened up the phone book and found hundreds of names with my Great Grand Father's last name.  No--I am not a direct descendant of a Virginia slave, but they carry the last name of my mother's family.  

Some ancestor's living in European, war-torn countries.  Persecuted for their religious or ethnic beliefs.  Hoping their children can escape to a new, free land.

The Irish caught up in the Potato Famine, of the religious wars.  The Saxon's of Germany.  The English and French, fighting each other.  New rulers came in and made new religious laws.  A few years later, another ruler came in, changing those religious laws back to the original laws.  The women, sailing across the ocean while pregnant.  Dying in childbirth.  

So many dying from the Black Plague or even the Influenza epidemic of 1918, here in this country.  I have 3 family members from my 3rd Great Grand Father's family, his siblings, who died on the same day.  November 2, 1918.  A brother aged 24, a baby sister aged 3 and another baby sister aged 6 months.  On the same day!  How would a mother and father go through that and keep their sanity?  They had a strong faith in God?

and yet....our direct ancestor made it!  I always wonder...if my 8th Great Grand Father had died, in the Civil War, as his son had, who would I have been born to?  Where?  What name would I have?

We carry the DNA of every single one of those direct ancestor's!  Just imagine that for a moment.  How far back?  Adam?  Noah?  It boggles my mind.

That's why I love genealogy.  I am obsessed with it!  Each person I research, each book I make is filled with time and love for the history of that family. Their names get stuck in my head, like they are my own ancestor's.  Thankful.  Experience.  Silence.  Methitable, some of the women's names.  Conradus, Casper, Evin, Bodic, some of the men's names.  

It is all just history, but it is OUR history!  

Yawn

For some reason, I had a rough night last night.  At least I think I did.  I slept well, but groggy all day today.  

This morning, ran up to the doc's office to get blood work done for my visit to him on Thursday.

Came home, ate a snack, sat down and fell asleep for two hours in my chair.  Rarely, if ever do I do that.
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If one bloom is pretty, how about 3?  And two more buds to open.