Old Pictures

We have been busy cleaning, and sorting at Grandma's house, since her passing last month.  We are finding all sorts of things!  Some of which are pictures from years gone by.  Some are funny, like this one:

On the back it says: "If you have any mice they will leave. Virgil [my great grandpa] dont want me to send this crazy one But here goes.  We wanted to look sober so Cloris yelled out the door at us, and made us laugh. Don't share it to any one."  :)  We all got a nice little snicker out of that photo, didn't we?  It was so worth sharing.

I like this one.  It's Grandpa with his brothers.   It says "Taken July 14th 1957".  Grandpa is the third from the right.  Or the left.  Whichever way you look at it, he's the handsome one in the middle with a watch on his left wrist.

L - R: Jim, John, Lloyd, Dick, Russel

The outcome of this barn does not look good:

"Pee's barn burning Summer of 1949"

And last, but not least, my Great Grandma:

"Franzel in Bowman orchard The rear view"

Groundhogs as Neighbors

Whoever thought to call an animal a ground-hog?  I mean, really?!  A groundhog hardly even resembles anything close to a hog!  Anyway . . .

My Jack Russel dog turned sixteen years old this year.  The first year we had him, he brought in around twenty small groundhogs within two days.  He would run around in the fields, bring a groundhog in, leave it lie, go out, get another one, bring it in, let it lie, go out - . . . . You get the picture.  Corkie kept us busy disposing of his hourly door prizes. 

Now that Corkie is getting up in years, he is more interested in seeing the insides of his eyelids while lying in the shade and dreaming about his younger years.  His inactive hobby of hunting groundhogs has caused a slight increase of these so called 'hogs' around the farm. 

Groundhog hole

Our intruding visitors have wasted no time in setting up house keeping on the banks of the lagoon (or manure pit.  Whichever term you prefer to use is fine, everyone at the Liberty Livestock farm will know what you're talking about). Our neighbors are helping themselves to the beans: 

See the area that has no beans?  (It must be gleaning season in their option.)   But who could blame them for wanting to save on gasoline money by shopping for food close to home?

As comfortable as our new residents have become, they are trespassing on private property.  In hopes of getting this message across to our ground-dwellers, mom made a special beverage for the new family on the block: Pepsi and Golden Malron.  To our dismay, they weren't thirsty.  So mom and dad set up walls.  These walls have peep holes so dad can spy on them . . . While he's holding a wood stick . . . That shoots out little balls of 'firecrackers', and has the potential to put things to sleep rather quickly.

View from spy hole

Because dad is over six feet tall and we don't want our trespassers to see him over the wall, mom provided dad with a chair.

Every now and then mom and I would hear a "Ka Boom"! and see dad walk away from his breastworks with the gun propped over his shoulder in a relaxed way.  Mission accomplished for one day. 

Update: Due to the storm (mentioned in previous post), the walls got blown over.  But then again, we would have been taking the them down soon anyway. . . Either dad got all of them or they got wise, packed their bags and left.

There Was a Storm

It popped up so quickly.  I clocked out of work at 3:30 and tired not to speed on my way home, in an attempt to beat the darkening storm clouds that were chasing me.  I talked to myself after glancing in the rire view and side mirrors. "We will be OK.  God will not give me more then I can handle.  Whatever happens will be for His glory, and He will help me to get through this.  We'll going to be OK."

Twenty minutes later I was pulling into our drive way.  The wind was hurling around the barn yard and dust was blowing everywhere.  The yellow milk wagon was  rolling across the drive way by itself, which I thought was rather funny. 

It ended upside down.

I drove into the barn, due to the garage door not opening because the power was already out.  I ran through a cloud of dust, dirt, chicken feathers, straw and hay to close the barn door and found mom struggling with it already.   "Go close the windows!" Mom said.  

As I entered the house, an older lady got out of her Equinox and called out "Can I stay in your basement?"  I welcomed her in and we both started closing windows before heading to the cellar.  Mom soon joined us and the two senior ladies started chatting. 

We sat in the cellar waiting for the wind to finish it's temper tantrum for over 15 minutes.  At last we emerged to find leaves and twigs all over the yard and one tree branch down, which had just missed the house.

Apples all over the yard.

One of the old silage wagons got blown to pieces.  (It wasn't in very good shape to begin with.)

The silage wagon parts caused the auger to over turn.

We were without power for about fifteen hours, most of which were during the evening. 

The clean up began the next day.

That storm was in early July and as I finish this post, we await the coming of another Derecho storm expected to hit sometime this afternoon. This time mom and I are ready: barn doors, closed and chained.  Vehicles, under cover.  Auger, put away. Gasoline for generator, in the barn.  Mom, cutting watermelon so we'll have something to eat (looks like she's eating every other piece she cuts).  Dad, on his way home from work in hopes of cutting a tree limb down that's hovering over the electric line.  Me, on stand by to get clothes off the line and close windows. 

Death is a part of Life

Mom and I got a call last Monday saying that my paternal grandma had fallen in her bathroom and was on the way to the hospital.  Mom called Dad, who was at work.  He met the EMT at the hospital, just as they were taking Grandma in.  Grandma had had a stroke, and it was too late for the local hospital to be of much help.  So, she was life flighted to University hospital where she had a two hour surgery to have the blood clot on her brain removed.  However, the clot was too stuck and the surgery was unsuccessful.  We were told that Grandma could have another stroke in the next 2-5 days, and if there was any swelling on her brain, she would die. 

Wednesday, I was at work.  Lunch was over and while putting dishes away, I heard my name over the speaker phone: "Tiffany: line one."  It was Mom and Dad, saying that Grandma was having some very light therapy done, and during that time she became non-responsive and was put on a ventilator.  We knew Grandma's living will declared that she did not wish at any time to be put on a ventilator.  We had no choice but to do as she wished. 

I left work early so I could head to the hospital with Mom and Dad.  I didn't want to regret not saying good bye to Grandma.  We walked into Grandma's room in ICU and 'visited' with her for a few minutes.  We held her hand, talked to her, asked her to squeeze our fingers, etc.  But there was no response whatsoever.

The Dr. came and after a few minutes of discussion, we all agreed the best thing for Grandma was to take her off the ventilator, in line with her wishes. 

We left the hospital not knowing how long it would be before we received 'The Call'.

 It came Friday evening around 11:25 p.m.  Grandma had died at 11:01 p.m.  I thought I would be ready to hear the news, but I don't think anything can prepare you for the real thing.  I had a hard time falling back to sleep that night.  I worked all weekend; I felt numb to the recent death in our family.  I was treating it like a death at the nursing home:  write it on the board that so-and-so expired, feel sad for the day, yet somewhat glad there is one less mouth to feed.  

The viewing was Tuesday. I thought the realization of Grandma's death would hit me, but it didn't.  It was a long three hours of people giving me hugs, most of whom I didn't know.  The funeral was Wednesday. Again, I thought 'this will be the day I have a break down'. I cried, but not very much.  When everyone had left the church's sanctuary and we had a few minutes to be alone, Natasha looked at Grandma lying in her final resting bed, and said "Gate Gam-ma [Great Grandma]. Sleeping."  My heart melted, right then and there.  Even a day or so later, Natasha would still say "Gam-ma sleeping. At. Church."

Great Grandma and Natasha 2010

The past two weeks have felt like a whole month, yet they have gone by so fast.  I have felt numb the past week and a half.  I feel out of sorts.  I wasn't like this when Grandpa died . . . I think it's because all of Dad's family is now gone (he was an only child).   Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas won't be the same.  Grandma, nor Grandpa will be there.    

Grandpa and Grandma (Lloyd and Wilma) 2006

Mother and son Christmas 2010

Good bye, Grandma.  I look forward to hearing you play the harp when I get to Heaven.

Love Tiffy 

Grandma and me fall 2009

No farewell words were spoken
no time to say goodbye
you were gone before I knew it,
and only God knows why.

~ Author Unknown

My Life in June

Here is a list of reasons why I might have been too busy to write a new post for the past few weeks:

   I co-hosted a surprise 60th birthday party, visited my sister and her family, watched Prince Caspian with my friend Hanna, celebrated my twenty something birthday, attended the Berean Bible Fellowship conference for a week,  played special music, met new people, donated blood to the Mosquito Foundation, ate ice cream with a group of singles around 10:15 p.m., sang in the choir, attended mom's cousin's husband's funeral viewing,  prayed for rain, fixed food for the elderly at the nursing home, watched MASH while trying to get over a nasty cold, slept for twelve hours (I was sick), and said good bye to my blind cow Helen that I raised from a calf. 

And now for pictures:

Janel's new kitchen

Carol (birthday girl) and I cutting a birthday cake that had a balloon in the middle.

(I knew there was a balloon inside.)

:)

New friends

Special music with new friends Terry and Jennifer

Helen and me in 2006

Helen and new born Polly 2010

A Daddy and his daughters (and granddaughter)

Verse of the week:

"After Job had prayed for his friends, the LORD made him prosperous again and gave him twice as much as he had before."

Job 42: 10

Remembering

I had to work all of Memorial Day weekend, therefore I did not get to attend any of the local ceremony's at the cemeteries.  And because we don't have a TV that works (only for DVD's and VHS use) I couldn't even watch the Memorial Day Concert on PBS.

Mom, dad and I went to cemetery over the weekend and walked around.  I stood there and looked at all the flags, standing watch by the tombstones of those who stood for my freedom and liberty by serving this country. There were so many flags.  And to think that this was just one cemetery of thousands . . . "How many people does it take to protect a country?" I asked dad.

I read this article at work on Monday.  The picture of 19 year old Army Pfc. Kevin is what grabbed my attention.  He's only 19 years old and has lost both legs and an arm.  He looks so young.

What does his life hold for him?  He most likely will have a very challenging time getting a job, because of his disability. Why should employers not give him the job when he voluntarily offered his life, for that employer's freedom?!

US military in action 2010

2010

I attended a Civil War reenactment with my unit two weekends ago.  I had been looking forward to it, but when I got there, I didn't enjoy it like I thought I would.  The men went out and shot at each other; the cannons went off, the crowd cheered at seeing the smoke rings from the cannons. I sat there watching the battle, wondering if this was how the towns people felt when they left to watch the first battle of Bull Run.

I could not help but sit there and wonder how we had come so far from what our real reaction would be to see men fighting and dying.  Why do we think of re-living a horrible war as 'fun'?  Back then, you would cringe to hear a cannon go off, because the dirt around you would be descending on you as your messmate friend is blown off his feet, never to walk again due to one or both of his legs being blown off, or worse.

"Would the real men from the Civil War be pleased to know we are honoring them by pretending to kill each other?"  I wondered.  I thought about that all weekend and came away with an answer:  No.  I don't think they would be pleased to be honored in this way.  Yes, they would be glad that we are not forgetting them. But there has to be a different way to remember them than re-living such horrible battle scenes.  We re-live the battles, but we (reenactors) don't take the battles seriously.  Yes, the commanders take things seriously, but not all the soldiers do.  When someone takes a hit, their fellow soldiers stand over them in the ranks and laugh at how 'pretty' he looks, laying there in the grass.  (I use to portray Sarah E. Edmonds who disguised

herself as Franklin Thompson and was a soldier, nurse and spy.  That's how I know a little bit of what takes place when seeing 'the elephant'. )

Conner Prairie 2012

This Memorial Day has stirred me into wanting to honor our fallen soldiers.  But honestly, I'm not sure how to go about doing it.  Mom suggested I check into the Daughters of Union Veterans, due to my diminishing passion to see Civil War reenactment battles.  Don't get me wrong - I will be the first to admit how much I love to see the brothers in arms stand and face each other, sending volley after volley of black powder into the air! (Although there are times when I mentally tell them to dress the line, or start taking hits, or advice the ice angels to start giving aid to the men.)

Conner Prairie 2012

But after this Memorial Day, I have changed.  I no longer care to honor our fallen military personnel in the way that I have.

I have not yet thought of how to honor the military people who gave so much . . . but I will think of something. Even if it means personally visiting as many cemeteries as I can. 

Morgan's Raid bridge, Conner Prairie 2012

Welcome Home

My sister, her husband and their daughter are finally back in the good old USA after living in Panama for about five months.  They spent two days with us before heading north. 

We all had a good time catching up on a variety of things, before the little family of three departed to visit Daniel's family, over three hours north of us.  It is so nice knowing my sister is back in the states! 

Verse of the week:

"For if their purpose or activity is of human origin, it will fail.  But if it is from God, you will not be able to stop these men; you will only find yourselves fighting against God." 

Acts 5:38b - 39