Wasn't it I who said, "I'll never have a computer!" ? Wasn't it I who could not figure out what was so exciting about video games? Wasn't it I who was so against sitting in front of a keyboard of a screen wasting hours and hours and hours? Yes, I'll admit it...it was I.
These days I do have a computer, in fact I think since I bought my first one in 1996, I've had either four or five of them. I have discovered great joy in computer word games, especially one called Word Builder. If that was the only thing I did on the computer to waste time, it would still be too much time spent. The thing is, it isn't the only thing I do on my laptop. I write emails, and visit with friends via Facebook. I do genealogy research, I write and read blogs, I do a weekly devotional entry for my neighbors church, I check scrapbook and craft sites, I explore decorating options, and I hunt for travel attractions and accommodations. I look up phone numbers for contractors and friends. Honestly, I could spend all day at the keyboard. I usually don't, but there are those days when it's cold and nasty outside, and I'm just not inspired to do any crafting ...or housework.... and before I know it, it's almost dinner time!
I'll fess up. I'm hooked. Hooked up to the world, hooked on the danged information highway. I've got to blame someone, so I'll blame it on all my friends who have gone out to work, leaving me home alone with nary a gal pal in sight to chat with. So...what's a woman to do? Talk to daughters and far away friends via the net, rather than the phone. Being a multi-tasker, it allows me the freedom to chat while I look at pictures or play a game while waiting for slow typists to respond to my statements.
Well, the day is rapidly getting away from me, so I'll close the lid on my little laptop and see if I can find a human to talk to while he rests on the front porch. Believe it or not, I'm much more addicted to him than I am this little black box.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Spring Songs
She often writes my thoughts...or at least, inspires some. Today she wrote about the 'humming' of Springtime as the world revs up their machines for mowing and blowing, lawn vacuuming and wood chipping. Ahhhh yes...the songs of Spring.
Here in our neighborhood, you can tell it's the weekend in Springtime. All of those John Deere motors are running, as well as a few others. We've got a lot of teenaged boys in our area, and when the weather breaks, they come away from their inside video games and computers, and they bring out the remote controlled cars and the four-wheelers and the motorized dirt bikes. The air-field across the tree line is alive with activity as the model planes soar and dive into the blue skies.
I've got to say that I notice the noise, but it isn't really bothersome. I've always had a knack for sorting sounds, and when I'm outside, sitting on the porch, I seem to naturally separate the natural from the man-made songs. I hear the birds twittering and screeching. I hear the dogs barking at the high pitched motors, I hear the 'dumble' bees. (we call those huge bumble bees that nickname because they are always flying into the porch railing or the house.) I hear the children laughing, or the toddler screaming because he's not allowed to follow the remote controlled car on the street.
At dusk, the activities of the neighbor hide behind the walls of each home, and the world becomes still. The whippoorwill sings and the crickets and cicadas click, but those are the sweet songs of Springtime that bring a peace to the heart in the evening. I think it's my second favorite chorus...the first being the early hours of a quiet morning.
On second thought, maybe those sounds of mowers and blowers and lawn vacs and chippers are bothersome to my ears.
Here in our neighborhood, you can tell it's the weekend in Springtime. All of those John Deere motors are running, as well as a few others. We've got a lot of teenaged boys in our area, and when the weather breaks, they come away from their inside video games and computers, and they bring out the remote controlled cars and the four-wheelers and the motorized dirt bikes. The air-field across the tree line is alive with activity as the model planes soar and dive into the blue skies.
I've got to say that I notice the noise, but it isn't really bothersome. I've always had a knack for sorting sounds, and when I'm outside, sitting on the porch, I seem to naturally separate the natural from the man-made songs. I hear the birds twittering and screeching. I hear the dogs barking at the high pitched motors, I hear the 'dumble' bees. (we call those huge bumble bees that nickname because they are always flying into the porch railing or the house.) I hear the children laughing, or the toddler screaming because he's not allowed to follow the remote controlled car on the street.
At dusk, the activities of the neighbor hide behind the walls of each home, and the world becomes still. The whippoorwill sings and the crickets and cicadas click, but those are the sweet songs of Springtime that bring a peace to the heart in the evening. I think it's my second favorite chorus...the first being the early hours of a quiet morning.
On second thought, maybe those sounds of mowers and blowers and lawn vacs and chippers are bothersome to my ears.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
The Olden Ways: Wash Day
There are days when I'd love to find the door to the past and walk through it, just to see how things really were. It was a slower time, but a busy one. Work was always there to do, even if it was just around the house.
My least favorite chore is the laundry. I don't know why. It's so simple to throw a load into one machine, and when it's finished churning,to toss the clothes into the other one to dry. With permanent press fabrics, there's usually little ironing to do, but I dislike the entire process.
Press rewind. We are now in the 1800's. It's Monday...and the women of the household are doing their laundry. They've built a fire and placed the huge cauldron of water on the hook of the tripod to heat. The white clothes will be set into the boiling water to keep them their whitest. The few items of colored clothing owned by the family are awaiting the strength of the arm muscles to rub them over the corrugated washboard. Then all the wash will be rung out by hand and hung on the line in the air to dry, It doesn't matter how hot the day is, the women must stand by that fire and tiring work must be done.
The garments will be stiff after the sun and wind have sufficiently dried them. The natural fiber items will be full of wrinkles too, from the wringing. One of the girls must heat the cast iron flat iron, being cautious not to burn herself, and the clothing will be ironed free of creases. It will be a full days work.
Weeks before that laundry day, a hog had been slaughtered and butchered. The fat, the lard, had been set aside for the making of the lye soap. This, too, was woman's work.
Suddenly, I'm back in 2010, and grateful to be, as it is time to do my laundry in my quiet front load washer, with the little beeper to tell me when it's finished its agitating, and the 'electric wind machine' which will dry the heaviest of my wash loads. Today, as I think back to my great-grandmother's wash day, my chore doesn't seem half-bad.
My least favorite chore is the laundry. I don't know why. It's so simple to throw a load into one machine, and when it's finished churning,to toss the clothes into the other one to dry. With permanent press fabrics, there's usually little ironing to do, but I dislike the entire process.
Press rewind. We are now in the 1800's. It's Monday...and the women of the household are doing their laundry. They've built a fire and placed the huge cauldron of water on the hook of the tripod to heat. The white clothes will be set into the boiling water to keep them their whitest. The few items of colored clothing owned by the family are awaiting the strength of the arm muscles to rub them over the corrugated washboard. Then all the wash will be rung out by hand and hung on the line in the air to dry, It doesn't matter how hot the day is, the women must stand by that fire and tiring work must be done.
The garments will be stiff after the sun and wind have sufficiently dried them. The natural fiber items will be full of wrinkles too, from the wringing. One of the girls must heat the cast iron flat iron, being cautious not to burn herself, and the clothing will be ironed free of creases. It will be a full days work.
Weeks before that laundry day, a hog had been slaughtered and butchered. The fat, the lard, had been set aside for the making of the lye soap. This, too, was woman's work.
Suddenly, I'm back in 2010, and grateful to be, as it is time to do my laundry in my quiet front load washer, with the little beeper to tell me when it's finished its agitating, and the 'electric wind machine' which will dry the heaviest of my wash loads. Today, as I think back to my great-grandmother's wash day, my chore doesn't seem half-bad.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Our Stories
For the last three Friday evenings, we watched an NBC show called 'Who Do You Think You Are?" It takes one celebrity per show, through their search of their ancestors, and it's actually quite interesting. Sarah Jessica Parker discovered that one of her early great grandmothers was accused at Salem, Massachusetts of being a witch. Fortunately authorities had recently passed the witch hunts off as a hoax, so Sarah's ancestor was spared a hanging, but still, her name appears on the records of those who were accused. Last night a former pro-ball player, an African American, discovered his roots in slavery and that his early great grandmother was the product of a slave named Mariah and her slave owner, meaning that he had some white blood in his family. He stopped his search of that line with Mariah, because of his realization that her mother had more than likely been violated, and then sold off. It was hurtful to him.
These celebrities had no idea when they started their searches that their families had been a part of any historical events in America. They were surprised, impressed, and upset to find some of their historical connections. We all have histories, some may be famous, some may not be as obvious. Some of the stories may be hurtful or upsetting, some may be glorious and noteworthy.
Even though we are not responsible for decisions which brought about the events, it is passed on down the line. Whatever it is, it is ours. It happened, and it is not something we can go back and change. We must embrace it, or hide it in a closet, out of sight, if we so choose....but still, it is our own history.
In my own searches of our family lines, I've discovered many things, occupations and stories. With each new clue leading to facts on record, I am thrilled. I enjoy the investigating, the mysteries, but I am elated when I find an answer. My own family was fairly easy to trace, as the majority of us had stayed in the same area of over 300 years. When I began to work on my husband's line, it was a little more difficult. He knew nothing...he had no information past his own grandparents. But, armed for the challenges, I charged on. We were lucky to have his eldest living relative within 9 miles of us, and she was very willing to give all the information she had. Not only did she have names and places, but she had an attic full of written matter, documents, letters, photos, which aided me greatly when constructing her side of Mike's family history.
His father's side, however, still proves to be somewhat mysterious. His GrGrandfather is my 'brick wall' and I cannot get past him. I'm told he was a young immigrant, coming alone at the age of 14 from England. I have not been able to locate him on ship's passenger lists or with any groups of orphans and waifs. I have his marriage information in 1890. I do have census information back to 1900, showing what information was given to the census taker. However, other years of census does not always line up with the same information or with his social security application. So far, I have not located his parents in England or the United States or Canada. It's one of those things I'll just have to keep looking for.
All in all, I think we're lucky to have as much information as we have about our ancestors. I'm happy that we have as many momentos to place in our books, as these give more 'personality' to the faces who stare at us across the pages...across the ages. I know that it will be more difficult to gather information about our women, but that will be my next undertaking. If I cannot find actual facts regarding the females, I will investigate the times, and add things that would be common to a woman of that day.
Whatever your history, whatever your stories, pass it along. Keep it, for it is part of what shaped you into who you are.
These celebrities had no idea when they started their searches that their families had been a part of any historical events in America. They were surprised, impressed, and upset to find some of their historical connections. We all have histories, some may be famous, some may not be as obvious. Some of the stories may be hurtful or upsetting, some may be glorious and noteworthy.
Even though we are not responsible for decisions which brought about the events, it is passed on down the line. Whatever it is, it is ours. It happened, and it is not something we can go back and change. We must embrace it, or hide it in a closet, out of sight, if we so choose....but still, it is our own history.
In my own searches of our family lines, I've discovered many things, occupations and stories. With each new clue leading to facts on record, I am thrilled. I enjoy the investigating, the mysteries, but I am elated when I find an answer. My own family was fairly easy to trace, as the majority of us had stayed in the same area of over 300 years. When I began to work on my husband's line, it was a little more difficult. He knew nothing...he had no information past his own grandparents. But, armed for the challenges, I charged on. We were lucky to have his eldest living relative within 9 miles of us, and she was very willing to give all the information she had. Not only did she have names and places, but she had an attic full of written matter, documents, letters, photos, which aided me greatly when constructing her side of Mike's family history.
His father's side, however, still proves to be somewhat mysterious. His GrGrandfather is my 'brick wall' and I cannot get past him. I'm told he was a young immigrant, coming alone at the age of 14 from England. I have not been able to locate him on ship's passenger lists or with any groups of orphans and waifs. I have his marriage information in 1890. I do have census information back to 1900, showing what information was given to the census taker. However, other years of census does not always line up with the same information or with his social security application. So far, I have not located his parents in England or the United States or Canada. It's one of those things I'll just have to keep looking for.
All in all, I think we're lucky to have as much information as we have about our ancestors. I'm happy that we have as many momentos to place in our books, as these give more 'personality' to the faces who stare at us across the pages...across the ages. I know that it will be more difficult to gather information about our women, but that will be my next undertaking. If I cannot find actual facts regarding the females, I will investigate the times, and add things that would be common to a woman of that day.
Whatever your history, whatever your stories, pass it along. Keep it, for it is part of what shaped you into who you are.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Body Shop
Some years ago I remember asking my wonderful Dr. White if he knew of a good body shop. He understood my question, completely, and we had a good chuckle. We had just gone over my body parts with a fine tooth comb, and all was well, but I felt as if I was wearing out. I thought if I could replace a few parts where the mechanisms weren't quite as moveable, things would certainly run more efficiently.
Alas, there is no such thing as a convenient 'body parts' store, as there is an automobile parts place. You can't just run in and buy a knuckle or a wrist or a new disk for your spine and figure out a way to insert it yourself. However, the wonderful thing about medicine is that if you do actually need something like a new joint, they are available through the proper channels!
After these last few weeks of nursing my aching back, I've done a lot of thinking about 'realignment.' I believe in chiropractic, but would not even attempt the trip to the office for an adjustment, until the acute muscle pain let up. I thought of every other scenerio, though. I've never had acupuncture because I'm not big on becoming a pin cushion...or worse yet, a voodoo doll. I do believe that it works, because two people close to me have had it in the past, and it brought them great relief. Even knowing that, I cannot bring myself to yield my body to a handful of needles.
And so I remain with the remnants of pain as I rise from a chair using my knees and attempt to work to an upright posture. This morning, once again, I found myself thinking of how wonderful it would be if all the aches and pains could be remedied by an immediate purchase and a simple disconnect/reconnect of things...sort of like changing a battery in a flashlight. Wouldn't that be nice?
Alas, there is no such thing as a convenient 'body parts' store, as there is an automobile parts place. You can't just run in and buy a knuckle or a wrist or a new disk for your spine and figure out a way to insert it yourself. However, the wonderful thing about medicine is that if you do actually need something like a new joint, they are available through the proper channels!
After these last few weeks of nursing my aching back, I've done a lot of thinking about 'realignment.' I believe in chiropractic, but would not even attempt the trip to the office for an adjustment, until the acute muscle pain let up. I thought of every other scenerio, though. I've never had acupuncture because I'm not big on becoming a pin cushion...or worse yet, a voodoo doll. I do believe that it works, because two people close to me have had it in the past, and it brought them great relief. Even knowing that, I cannot bring myself to yield my body to a handful of needles.
And so I remain with the remnants of pain as I rise from a chair using my knees and attempt to work to an upright posture. This morning, once again, I found myself thinking of how wonderful it would be if all the aches and pains could be remedied by an immediate purchase and a simple disconnect/reconnect of things...sort of like changing a battery in a flashlight. Wouldn't that be nice?
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Forever Sister in Law
A Facebook message from my daughter gave me the news that my former, yet forever, sister -in-law had passed away in the night. It was not unexpected, but still it puts a tear in my eye.
When I became engaged to her brother, she embraced me with her kindness and accepted me into the family, more so than any of the others did. We became relatives at the wedding, and oddly, double relatives, as she was not only my sister in law, but she was married to my cousin, too. Her children were a few years older than my own were, but they connected well as cousins.
We did many family things, beach gatherings, parties, holidays and Sunday dinners. Even after both of our marriages dissolved, we both felt connected, and vowed to be 'forever' sisters in law.
As life would have it, she remarried, and much later, I did too. We didn't see much of each other in those days, but it always seemed the same when we'd meet somewhere. She worked for my doctor, my kids' doctor, so at times we saw a good bit of each other. We did live differently, lifestyles which were far distant from each other, but still, we didn't feel distant.
Today there is a sadness, a sorrow for her loss, though I'm sad to say we hadn't had any sort of communication since we moved away from East Hampton. I find myself wishing that I could embrace her daughters today, to take them under my wing, and 'be there' for them. They say they were ready for her leaving, but are we really ever ready to lose someone we love? My heart goes out to them, and to their step-father, who I never really got to know well. I grieve for my former husband and his remaining two younger brothers. They are all that is left of the family which once numbered eight children.
Life is a muddle of happiness, sadness, living, dying, and a whole bucketful of other things. While there is joy in the coming of a new baby, there is sadness in the loss of someone we love. It's all a part of life, I guess, and somehow we must accept it.
Thank you, K., for being a part of my family...a part of my life. Rest easy.
When I became engaged to her brother, she embraced me with her kindness and accepted me into the family, more so than any of the others did. We became relatives at the wedding, and oddly, double relatives, as she was not only my sister in law, but she was married to my cousin, too. Her children were a few years older than my own were, but they connected well as cousins.
We did many family things, beach gatherings, parties, holidays and Sunday dinners. Even after both of our marriages dissolved, we both felt connected, and vowed to be 'forever' sisters in law.
As life would have it, she remarried, and much later, I did too. We didn't see much of each other in those days, but it always seemed the same when we'd meet somewhere. She worked for my doctor, my kids' doctor, so at times we saw a good bit of each other. We did live differently, lifestyles which were far distant from each other, but still, we didn't feel distant.
Today there is a sadness, a sorrow for her loss, though I'm sad to say we hadn't had any sort of communication since we moved away from East Hampton. I find myself wishing that I could embrace her daughters today, to take them under my wing, and 'be there' for them. They say they were ready for her leaving, but are we really ever ready to lose someone we love? My heart goes out to them, and to their step-father, who I never really got to know well. I grieve for my former husband and his remaining two younger brothers. They are all that is left of the family which once numbered eight children.
Life is a muddle of happiness, sadness, living, dying, and a whole bucketful of other things. While there is joy in the coming of a new baby, there is sadness in the loss of someone we love. It's all a part of life, I guess, and somehow we must accept it.
Thank you, K., for being a part of my family...a part of my life. Rest easy.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Not Quite Time...
With our days reaching nearly 70 degrees since this past weekend, I find myself thinking of the gardens. I walk around the yard, daily, to watch the progress of the green shoots of daffodils and tulips, expecting to actually see them growing. They do not disappoint me. I examine the branches of the pink dogwood, and take note that the leaves are budding...still tiny and not yet ready to unfurl. But, in time they will burst, and there will be profusion of the cross shaped blossoms. The pussy willows will soon open and show their silver fuzz.
But, it's not quite time. As the catalogues of bulbs, plants and seeds arrive in the mail, I feel the call to get outside and clear the spot where the vegetable garden will be this year. I circle the items I want to order, and I want to get them into the ground. But it's not quite time yet. There is still danger of a night-time freeze, and we who plant, dare not do so until 'tax day' arrives, April 15. Then we have a pretty good chance of seeing our plants survive.
There is much clean up and preparation to do before anything can go into the ground. The horrible Bermuda grass, which sends its roots crawling into places it doesn't belong, takes over in the flower beds. It comes up between the wanted blossoms, and is a dickens to pull out. It's never really gone, but it lies under the soil, just ready to push up and take a place with the flowers. It's my nemesis as it appears to be stronger than my muscles are.
I'm waiting to do battle with the weeds and the earth. With a bad shoulder that hangs on and a strained muscle in my back that has given me excrutiating pain for the last few weeks, I must wait. It's not quite time to attempt anything that requires use of those muscles.
The Bible says, "to everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under Heaven." Though my mind is ready to work, my flesh is weak, and the weather is a trickster. In light of my desire to get my hands dirty, today I will fill my four window box containers with gardening soil, and I will plant some lettuce seeds and some flowers, and set them into the sunlight in our back room. The tomato plants, the squashes, the peppers, and the corn I hope will yield, must wait for a little longer...because it's not quite time.
But, it's not quite time. As the catalogues of bulbs, plants and seeds arrive in the mail, I feel the call to get outside and clear the spot where the vegetable garden will be this year. I circle the items I want to order, and I want to get them into the ground. But it's not quite time yet. There is still danger of a night-time freeze, and we who plant, dare not do so until 'tax day' arrives, April 15. Then we have a pretty good chance of seeing our plants survive.
There is much clean up and preparation to do before anything can go into the ground. The horrible Bermuda grass, which sends its roots crawling into places it doesn't belong, takes over in the flower beds. It comes up between the wanted blossoms, and is a dickens to pull out. It's never really gone, but it lies under the soil, just ready to push up and take a place with the flowers. It's my nemesis as it appears to be stronger than my muscles are.
I'm waiting to do battle with the weeds and the earth. With a bad shoulder that hangs on and a strained muscle in my back that has given me excrutiating pain for the last few weeks, I must wait. It's not quite time to attempt anything that requires use of those muscles.
The Bible says, "to everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under Heaven." Though my mind is ready to work, my flesh is weak, and the weather is a trickster. In light of my desire to get my hands dirty, today I will fill my four window box containers with gardening soil, and I will plant some lettuce seeds and some flowers, and set them into the sunlight in our back room. The tomato plants, the squashes, the peppers, and the corn I hope will yield, must wait for a little longer...because it's not quite time.
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