You know my normal writing style (style may be a stretch) is “from the heart” or serious with an occasional attempt at humor.  This one is from the top of my head, nothing serious and it remains to be seen if there will be any humor; just some random thoughts.

It is New Years Eve and I am home alone. I believe that is a first; oh I have spent a lot of them at home but not alone.  Although it wasn’t uncommon for Sharyl to say goodnight about 10 o’clock and leave me to bring in the new one however I wanted as long as I was quiet and didn’t try to include her in my little celebration.

You notice the title is simply ’13.  I think it is time to quit saying twenty thirteen or, heaven forbid, two thousand thirteen. I guess it is okay to write it, but don’t say it.  If it were still last century we would just say ’57 or ’72 or ’91.  I’m not going to talk about it but I think the Y2K fiasco deserves a mention. A hundred years from now I can just picture one of my great or great great grand sons griping because people are saying twenty-one thirteen instead of just ‘13.

I’m back; I had to put the black-eyed peas in the crock-pot.  My mom and Sharyl always fixed those for New Years.  I think they were supposed to bring prosperity for the coming year.  I’m not sure they worked, but I’m afraid not to eat some.  I really don’t much like the things; I can’t stand the ones that come out of a can.  I’m cooking the dry kind, and will put enough other “stuff” in them to disguise the pea taste.  I hope that “stuff” doesn’t affect the prosperity thing.

I had a call this week from a technology challenged relative.  They were not home, I guess they are advancing because they do have a cell phone; they wanted me to look in my phone book and find an address for them.  I hadn’t seen a phone book, much less used one in a year or two.  Against my better judgment I complied with their request instead of using my trusted source, the computer.  I gave them the wrong address; the place had relocated a few months ago, I should have used this.  I hope they don’t read what I write; I don’t think they even know I write.

I am also technology challenged, recently Braxton helped me with Instagram and Rylie helped me transfer my music from CDs to my IPOD, but it isn’t because I don’t try.  I honestly don’t know how I would have made it through the last four years without my computers, IPAD and cell phone.  I must be careful here or I will get into some of that “from the heart” stuff. I promise I won’t go there tonight.

I have used this thing for everything from medical research, to shopping for hard to find stuff, to just killing time.  I even learned to blog a little bit and when it became necessary for me to learn to cook I could look here for recipes:

Or I could look here:

Thank god for Google; I couldn’t find anything in those books and most of the time I didn’t understand the instructions anyway.

I think I need to upgrade my word-processing software; spellchecker didn’t recognize Google.

I just looked at the clock; I think this is the first time I have “blogged” in a New Year; anyway “HAPPY NEW YEAR”

Thanks for helping me get ’13 off and running and forgive the goofy mood. I promise, the strongest thing I have had to drink is a Pepsi One. There has been a little bit of George Jones, Loretta Lynn, Willie and some other Country Legends blaring in the background, I’m surprised you didn’t hear them.  I’ve gotta mention one of my old favorites, Roger Miller, talk about marching to a different drumbeat.

Keep me in your prayers.

Good Night and God Bless.

Dave

Ah the week after Christmas, it is like no other.  Unlike other weeks it starts on Thursday or Tuesday as often as it starts on Sunday, this year it started on Wednesday.  The one constant is, it starts the day after Christmas and ends with the beginning of the New Year.

Kids everywhere take advantage of the break from school to enjoy their Christmas stuff; it makes it just a little bit better if it snows.  It was a long time ago for me but I still have fond memories of Christmas breaks when I was a kid.

Social calendars can become difficult to manage because it is a popular week to get together with family and friends.  I know, for me, back in the day it was a heck of a party week.

The business world seems to back off the accelerator or maybe even kick it out of gear and kind of coast for the week.

It is also a good time to review or reflect on the past year and to regroup or refocus and get ready for the new one.  I prefer the terms reflect and refocus, they don’t sound quite as complicated.

There is another “re” word that comes to mind when talking about a new year.  The word is resolve or resolution.  I guess those things work for some people; I never took them very serious and if I made one at all it had normally fallen by the wayside by sundown on New Years day.

For many years I did the “reflect and refocus” thing.  I didn’t make a big deal of it, I just kind of quietly looked back and looked ahead and tried to improve on the way I did some things.  The last time I did that was in 2007.  In ’08, ’09, ’10 and ’11 I reviewed everything I did on a daily, if not hourly, basis.  Any regrouping or refocusing we did was driven by PET scan results or visits with the Doctor; not by some idea I had in late December.

I am once again in a position to reflect on the past year and look toward the new one.  To quickly summarize what I see in the reflection.  The year started with the expected but extremely heartbreaking loss of the best thing that ever happened to me.  Sharyl lost her 3+-year battle with cancer.  A short forty days later Conner was suddenly and tragically taken from us.  As I look in the mirror those losses remain crystal clear.  I love you guys dearly and miss you every day.  The rest of the year is somewhat blurry.  I see a tired old man struggling to refocus, regroup or re something and get things figured out.  I also see a family and some dear friends doing everything they can to help the old man in his effort.

I don’t know what ’13 has in store, I know it could also be filled with tragedy but I like the odds and I am excited (excited might be a little strong) but I am anxious to have a go at it.  I plan to continue to work toward getting things figured out and put back together.  I have made some progress; I’m not the basket case I was in the spring but I still have a long way to go.

To be a little more specific; about five months ago one of my posts contained the following paragraph.

During the latter stages of Sharyl’s illness, to pass some time on sleepless nights I would dwell on things I needed or wanted to do.  Three recurring things were: lose some weight, get the yard back up to our specifications and enjoy some time at the lake. For about the first four months I really didn’t care how I looked or how the place looked and I didn’t have fun if I went to the lake.

I have learned to enjoy spending time at the lake.  The place still needs some work, but I have made some progress and procrastination is not the problem.  The weight loss thing isn’t going well.  I said I didn’t have a timetable as long as the trend was down.  The trend has been down, but I need to pick up the pace.  At the rate I’m going I will be at least 107 years old when I reach my goal.

I know that just because I turn the page on the calendar things won’t suddenly be okay.  I expect the first two or three months of the New Year to be a continuation of the past couple months.  I also believe this time next year the reflection I see will be much brighter than the one I see tonight.

I had a very brief post in mind when I sat down tonight.  I guess I got a little carried away.  I hope your New Year meets your expectations.

Please remember me when you say your prayers and consider a donation to the cancer research organization of your choice.

Good Night and God Bless.

Dave.

It has been a few days since I’ve been here.  I really don’t know why, I have just had no desire to write.  The days since Thanksgiving have been a little tougher than I was expecting, but those tough times normally drive me to the keyboard, not away from it.

From my business travel days I still remember the real good trips and the real bad ones; the others have kind of faded.  I guess I could say the same for the Rodeos I did.

Christmases in my life fall into two categories and there are no bad ones.  I guess because they have all been good, like the mediocre business trips, specific memories of each one have kind of faded.  A few of them have been unusual for a variety of reasons; those are the ones I remember.  And yes I will bore you with some of those memories.

I know I mention from time to time that we didn’t have much money when I was a kid, I don’t do that for sympathy, it is just a fact.  When I was a little kid Mom and Dad always managed to get innovative with the family budget and put smiles on our little faces on Christmas morning.

We always went to the country and cut a Red Cedar for a Christmas tree, most of the time we went to the Lazenbys’ farm, they were friends of my parents and they had an abundance of cedar trees.  I remember the first time we had electric lights on the tree; I think the string had about eight bulbs and when one of them burned out they all went out, but hey it was a start.

The first one I will share really wasn’t unusual, but for some reason the memory became vivid this past week.  The year was probably about 1949 or 50, times were tough, and I wanted a cap gun and holster.  Christmas morning Santa had left me this killer (no pun intended) 2 gun and holster deal.  I noticed it had some damage on one of the holsters, Mom said Santa probably damaged it in the sleigh.  I had actually got a pre-owned or second hand set. They did what they needed to do to put a smile on the kid’s face.

We all took our guns to school, when we returned after Christmas break.  We played Cowboys and Indians at recess.  I don’t remember how we determined who would be Cowboys and who would be Indians but I know it had nothing to do with skin color or ancestry. If either of those happened today it would be the lead story on the 10 o’clock news. Times have changed.

Sharyl and I shared our first Christmas in ’63.  I was home on leave from Ft. Polk Louisiana. I really don’t remember a lot of detail; I think we spent some time with my family and with hers. We would do forty-eight more before the string was broken.  It is a little tough to accept, the last time she wasn’t with me for Christmas was in 1962.

Three short years later 1966, Sharyl was about 7 months pregnant. I think one of the common side effects of pregnancy is an occasional kidney infection.  Even then she had this thing about side effects. She spent Christmas Eve and Christmas Day in bed, but we were together and other family members stopped in for a visit.

Fast forward to Dec 23, 1983, it was bitter cold (like below zero) Sharyl suggested we leave some faucets dripping.  I assured her we were okay.  Three weeks and 1000 feet of new water line later we were, as I had assured her, okay. I can still hear my feisty sixteen year old saying “WHAT NO WATER, HOW AM I GOING TO FIX MY HAIR”. We showered all over town for that three-week period.  It was still a good Christmas.

The last four certainly fit in the unusual category.  I won’t repeat what was previously written about each of them.  I will just say I consider them good because we were all together.

I have been blessed to spend 69 consecutive Christmases surrounded by those I love.  I plan to continue the streak in a couple days.  I know this one will be a little somber or melancholy, but it will be good because I will be surrounded by those I love.

Although it goes without saying, I will say it anyway.  We always remember the true meaning of Christmas is to celebrate the birth of our savior.

To Sharyl and Conner: I love you guys dearly and I miss you every day.  I’m sure you will enjoy spending this Christmas with that savior.

To each of you: I hope you are surrounded by those you love and that you have a very Merry Christmas.

Good Night and God Bless.

Dave

Four years ago tonight I received an email from Lori. It contained a link to a website I had never heard of.  She asked me to read it, run it by her Mom and if we were OK with it we would tell a few people about it.  The following is what was at the other end of the link:

wishes & reality

Posted on December 10, 2008

What I wish is that there was not a need for this blog. Not a need to have a place to post updates about my Mom, not a need to keep our friends and family informed,  not a need to talk about cancer. I wish my Mom didn’t have cancer……
But she does, and we are so fortunate to be reminded daily that our family is not traveling this road alone.
I think it is an understatement to say that Mom has a lot of friends, and each of  you in whatever way you chose to reach out has been a source of comfort for our family.

Writing has always been a trusted outlet for me, so I hope by  sharing my thoughts I can keep those who care about Mom informed, updated and in the loop.   So with Mom’s blessing this blog begins, I’m not sure where it will take us but I do know that we will have love, prayers and friends on the journey with us, thank you all.

Lori

Sometimes it seems like yesterday.  Sometimes it seems like a very long time ago.  I agreed to help her a little with some of the technical or medical stuff.  I guess somewhere along the way, like my daughter, writing became a trusted outlet for me.

The two blogs have produced 356 posts, 1,307 comments and 70,386 times someone has cared enough to see what was going on in our lives.

I guess I’m just feeling a little nostalgic tonight, please accept my sincere 70,386 Thank Yous.

Do you remember that car fever I talked about?  It just took about three months but the fever is gone.

Your thoughts and prayers are still needed and appreciated.

Good Night and God Bless.

Dave

Four years ago this week I became a blogger (Is that a word?) since then I have done more than 200 posts.  This is the most difficult one I have written.  I normally spend from fifteen minutes to maybe three hours putting one together; I worked on this one off and on for three nights. It wasn’t emotionally difficult; I just couldn’t get my mind to convert what was in my heart into words we can understand.  I hope you understand it, I’m not sure I do.   

Maybe next week I can return to the lighter side.

If you check with Merriam-Webster, definitions for the word “grief” range from the casual, as in “Good grief Charley Brown” to the serious: “very deep distress caused by the loss of a loved one”. I probably should talk about Charley Brown but I need to share some thoughts about the other kind of grief, or the grieving process.

I have talked about the excruciating emotional pain I experienced with the loss of Sharyl and Conner.  I haven’t attempted to put into words the complicated process of dealing with that pain.

There have always been two distinct and different kinds of hurt or two separate holes in my heart.  I guess the process started immediately following Sharyl’s death; no one ran a flag up the pole and said okay the process has started. There is no scoreboard, time clock or schedule.  There is no sure way to measure or document progress; just a self-assessment or “gut feeling”, that is subject to sudden change and that change is not always good.

I think I was naïve enough to believe I was simultaneously processing the grief for both losses. Recently the pain caused by the second loss has been very intense.  Apparently I wasn’t capable of dealing with the two separate and distinctly different types pain at the same time.

I think two important milestones in the process are acceptance and not for the pain to go away, but for it to stabilize, (the hurt today is about the same as the hurt yesterday).  I think, at least temporarily, I have reached those milestones for the loss of Sharyl.

I am not to that point with the loss of Conner; I think I have made some progress but I struggle daily with acceptance and the pain certainly isn’t stable, and I hope it doesn’t stabilize at the present level.

I believe I will always miss Sharyl more, because we shared every detail of our lives for forty something years. The loneliness and remembering the “little things” are a part of my daily life, I don’t expect that to change and honestly I’m not sure I want it to. The loneliness could go but I believe the memories drive the loneliness and I want to hang on to the memories.

Emotional pain is difficult to understand and even harder to explain, but I expect that pain to forever be more severe for Conner, simply because of the youth and “what could have been”.

I love both you guys dearly and I miss you every day.

There is another kind of pain that is very much a part of the process.  I think of it as secondary pain, it is the pains derived from seeing those I love grieve the loss of a son, mom, brother, Maw Maw, nephew or cousin.  Sometimes I think this is the most difficult and complicated part of the entire process.

With God’s help, and your prayers, we will be OK, never the same but OK.

Good Night and God Bless.

Dave

I’m not sure where this one will go; I just know it is another of those nights when sleep is a few hours away if it is there at all.  I usually know what I want to say when I approach the keyboard; then I figure out how to say it as I go along.  Tonight I really don’t know what or how.

For obvious reasons I have been very concerned about how I would handle November, December and January.  I was expecting them to be tough. November met those expectations but I was kind of prepared and I think I am doing OK.

I have spent some time; actually I have spent a lot of time, in the kitchen this week.  I haven’t cooked much because it is almost impossible to cook in an upside down kitchen.  I have almost completed the difficult task (physically and emotionally) of converting the place from Sharyl’s kitchen to my kitchen. It wasn’t the sort of thing I wanted help doing; I probably needed help but I wasn’t smart enough to ask.

I had time to think about or revisit the kitchens that have been part of my life.  There are three of them and if it is OK I will share some of the things that crossed my mind as I emptied and rearranged the cabinets this week.

One of those kitchens belonged to the lady I called mom, my kids called her Granny Pearl. One of them belonged to the lady my girls called mom and my grandkids called Maw Maw.  The third belongs to a tired senile old man; I shudder to think what others may call him.

I know sometimes kitchens are shared, that wasn’t an option with these three kitchens.  Thinking about my mom and Sharyl sharing a kitchen is laughable.  They got along great, thought the world of each other and they both were very good cooks but their philosophies regarding kitchens and cooking were completely opposite.  Technically Sharyl and I shared for about three years, but I really just used hers and I tried not to change anything so on her good days she was comfortable there.

Sharyl’s kitchen was my home kitchen for more than forty years. She was a good cook; however if she would have made a list of the things she liked to do, cooking wouldn’t have cracked the top twenty-five. She cooked because it came with the territory and approached it kind of like she approached life.  She stayed between the lines, she didn’t vary much from the printed recipe she had in front of her.

I remembered one of her social outlets in our early years was an occasional Tupperware party because I discovered quite a bit of vintage Tupperware tucked away in the dark corners of the cabinets.  She also was a heck of a homeroom mother because if the oven was big enough I have enough muffin tins to do 68 muffins or cupcakes at one time.

Our daily use cookware is some Salad master stainless steel we bought at one of those party deals in 1965.  We couldn’t afford it, but we managed to pay it out over the next three or twelve years.  I guess it was a good investment because I think I still have all of it and it is almost good as new.

The first twenty something years of my life I took my nourishment in this lady’s kitchen.

Mom would have placed cooking at or very near the top of a list of things she liked to do.  I’m sure she had some printed recipes but I don’t remember ever seeing one.  Mom’s cooking was a little like her life it didn’t bother her to get outside the lines from time to time.  Honestly I don’t think there were lines in her kitchen.

I think it is a little characteristic of those ladies that lived the great depression to be very innovative in the kitchen.  My mom became an adult and started her family during that time.  If she had a pound of ground beef and enough saltine crackers, she could make enough meatloaf to feed an army.  During some of the tough years when I was a kid we frequently had sauerkraut and wieners or “kraut and weenies” as we called it.  Often when the bowl got to me there weren’t many weenies left.  I accused my brother of getting all the weenies; fact is there weren’t many weenies to begin with.  Mom did what she needed to do with what she had.

She knew how to make lye soap and to render lard from hog fat.  She canned everything imaginable; I spent a lot of summer days washing fruit jars to support her canning habit and I guess she canned to support our eating habit.

She continued to can, primarily pickles, relish and jellies and jams as long as she was physically able.  One time she was making plum jelly and apple jelly, at the end of the day she had a little bit of each juice left, the old do not waste it depression mindset kicked in.  Did you ever have apple-plum jelly?  My girls loved it; every year thereafter she would make the girls some apple-plum jelly.

Mom cooked professionally for several years, primarily as a pastry cook.  In ’62 she made a scale model (I guess that is what you call it) cake for the dedication ceremony of the Raley Chapel at Okla. Baptist University.  One time Sharyl and I delivered a very large wedding cake on snow covered roads for her.  I think it was about a thirty-mile trip.

The problem with not using written recipes is; things don’t always taste like they did last time.  Most of mom’s stuff was always very good but when she made meatloaf or dressing as in turkey and dressing; we learned to approach it with caution.  Sometimes it was very good and sometimes you wished you would have only taken a small helping.  I would like to try one more slice of that meatloaf.

The third kitchen in my life is still very much a work in progress.  I should have shared kitchen duties with Sharyl over the years, I didn’t, no excuses.  We were very compatible in a lot of the things we did; cooking was not one of those things.

When she got sick some wonderful friends fed us very well for about two months.  If I would have allowed it they might still be bringing meals and yes I have had second thoughts.  I tried to fix what Sharyl could and would eat.  She was appreciative and forgiving because she knew I was trying.  I’m not sure if genetics or environment is the primary driving force in my cooking style.  I use recipes but I usually deviate a little, I have always preferred to at least step over the line just a little.  I think if I was smart enough or experienced enough I would probably be more like my mom.  Don’t accept an invitation if I’m having meatloaf.

The conversion is almost complete, if I took a before and after picture they would look almost the same.  The in process picture would be scary.  I have a few lids without containers and some containers without lids, but mostly I just put this where that was and that where this was.  Kind of done it my way.

I’m sorry this one got a little long.  I’m not real sure when I’ll be back, I don’t have anything in mind to write about but I’ll probably have a goofy thought worth sharing in a few days or a few weeks.

Thanks for reading what I write and god knows I still need your prayers.

Good Night and god Bless.

Dave

About ten or twelve years ago Sharyl reluctantly agreed to let me fry our turkey for Thanksgiving. She didn’t like it; I think it was because it was fried and because it wasn’t our traditional Thanksgiving Turkey.

Thursday we had fried turkey again.  We liked it; I think it was because it was fried and because it wasn’t our traditional Thanksgiving Turkey.

We will probably have fried turkey again next year, maybe that will become a Thanksgiving tradition at our house.

Our day was good, it was not necessarily a day to remember but I am sure I will always remember it. I think holidays will always be a little difficult, especially Thanksgiving Christmas and Easter.  They (whoever they is) say the first time is the most difficult; we have done two of them.  I guess I need to see if I can find the Christmas tree and get ready to face the third one.

The long weekend is rapidly coming to a close.  Cale should be back to Morgantown in a couple hours.  Another Monday morning waits.

The Beat Goes On.

I have stopped to give thanks for my family, my friends and all the positive things going on in my life.

I hope your Thanksgiving was everything you wanted it to be.

Good Night and God Bless.

Dave

When I think of traditions I think of sporting events, especially college athletics and their mascots. I also think of the family holiday traditions I have experienced.

Texas A&M is known as a tradition rich college.  I understand they even have yell practice the night before games, which seems unnecessary; I never met a Texan that needed to practice yelling.

Oklahoma State has this cowboy with a big head, imagine that a cowboy with a big head, he has been around a long time he has had the big head since about 1958. I believe that qualifies as a tradition.

The Oklahoma Sooners had this guy known as “Little Red” on their sidelines for about 15 years.  He had attained tradition status.  A national push to become politically correct banished him to the locker room about forty years ago. They also had this crazy dog, running all over the gym during basketball games, an administrative decision sent him to the pound a few years ago.  They do have this wagon and horses, approaching 50 years of age.  Not the same horses, I know horses don’t live that long. I think that qualifies as a tradition. The gym is not a good place for horse drawn wagons.  They replaced the crazy dog with a couple guys dressed as horses.  I don’t think they will attain the coveted tradition status.

It is almost 1:00 am and quite frankly college sports is not the reason I am wide eyed and pounding this keyboard.  Speaking of the keyboard, you should see this thing. It is covered with tear, coffee and Pepsi One stains, little bits of popcorn, peanuts, and other assorted food items.  I should clean it but I’m afraid the high strength stuff I would need to use would ruin it and keyboards are a little like old shoes, it fits and I don’t want to break in a new one.

Thanksgiving is rapidly approaching, life has once again made it necessary to modify or maybe even start some new traditions.  It happens every few years in all families.  This time will be a little more difficult at our house.

In the movies everyone goes to Grandmas house. Grandpa carves the turkey at the table.  There is enough room for everyone at the table.  After the meal the women all put on aprons and clean the dishes.  The men and boys including Grandpa go to the front yard and play football.  They then come back in the house and watch some football on TV.  It didn’t work that way in my family.

When I was a kid I don’t know who carved the turkey, because kids didn’t sit at the big table.  I think the women did clean the dishes, I don’t know about the aprons.  I don’t remember even having a football and the first Thanksgiving day NFL game on TV was in 1956; I was already14 years old.

My earliest memories of Thanksgiving are family gatherings with my dad’s parents and his siblings and a bunch of my cousins. We went to Grandmas house or Aunt Ruth’s house. That was a long time ago and I really don’t remember many details but the memories I do have are good.

My crazy years, late teen to early twenties, if I was in town and wasn’t working, Mom would make sure I was at her house at the appropriate time.  It is amazing how screwed up my priorities were during that time in my life.

During the first twenty-five years or so of our marriage Thanksgivings were pretty structured and traditional.  Not movie traditional, we didn’t play football, grandpa didn’t carve the turkey, and we didn’t all fit around one table.

We did lunch with her family at Aunt Nova’s. The number of family members varied from year to year but there was always a big group.  Nova knew how to do Thanksgiving right.

We slipped in a short visit with Sharyl’s grandparents and her dad’s family on the way to my parent’s house for dinner.

Most of the time all my siblings and most of their kids were there. Mom and Dad didn’t have a very big house so it was pretty crowded. We always enjoyed the visit and I could write an entire post on my mom’s kitchen escapades.

By the time we got home Sharyl and I felt like we had ran a marathon, especially when the kids were small.

My mom’s death in ’91 brought that tradition to a close.  The girls were grown, in fact Lori was married, and we were brand new grand parents. We started doing thanksgiving at our house with our immediate family.  Cale and Conner went to Grandmas or I prefer Maw Maws house for their first Thanksgiving.

We continued to go to Nova’s for a few more years, and then about ten years ago suddenly we were the old generation.

The marathon days were over for Sharyl and I.  The girls were learning about marathons and traditions and keeping everyone happy.  Sharyl and the girls did all the cooking, however Grandpa or I prefer Paw Paw carved the turkey. I didn’t do it at the table; it is much easier to carve a turkey on the cabinet with an electric knife. The ladies cleaned the dishes but I don’t remember seeing an apron, if there is one in the house I haven’t found it.  We didn’t play football but we usually watched a little.  We tried afterward but really 2007 was the last traditional thanksgiving at our house.

Thanksgiving day ’08 Sharyl and I came home from the hospital with this thing called cancer.  She felt pretty good in ’09 and if the elephant hadn’t had a place at the table we would have had a traditional “Dave and Sharyl” Thanksgiving.  Elephants at the dinner table are hard to ignore. I will just say we went through the motions in ’10 and ’11.

Our plan for Thanksgiving 2012 is for the immediate family to be at our house.  The girls and I have the menu planned, we are changing some things and know who is responsible for what; I am confident the food will be good and there will be plenty of it. Last year there were eleven of us; this year there is nine. The elephant this year will be the two empty chairs. We will each handle it in our own way.  The mission is to enjoy the fellowship to the extent possible and to focus on the many things for which we are truly thankful.  Maybe some new traditions can take root.

I hope you and your family enjoy your kind of traditional Thanksgiving.

I could probably use an extra word of prayer this week.

Good Night and God Bless.

Dave

OK I know, give me a break; I couldn’t think of a title.

On November 4, ’08 Sharyl cast her ballot for her choice to lead this great nation for the next four years. It is a secret ballot so I don’t know if her guy won.  One week later on November 11 she made the drive to Seminole for just another routine day at the office.  It was the last time she would do either of those things.

I also made that trip to the voting booth in ’08, I returned again this week.  I think I only voted one time in between, which was in the general election in ’10.  During that four-year period I didn’t really care who was elected sheriff or senator or mayor or whatever.  But one of the 15-year-old kids that I coached in summer softball more years ago than the kids or I care to recall was trying to become governor of the state of Oklahoma. I had to help Mary see if she could govern better than she could play softball; thank god, I believe she can.  We weren’t very good but we had a lot of fun.  If any of you girls read this stuff, thanks for the memories.

Sharyl and I almost always voted, not just for president or governor, we cared who was mayor, school board member, councilman, or county treasurer.  Our political views were usually the same, neither of us was vocal or actively campaigned we were just members of the silent majority.

My first presidential election was ‘64; the choices were Lyndon Johnson or Barry Goldwater.  Barry’s campaign slogan was “In Your Heart You Know He’s Right”.  We didn’t get to find out but, in my heart, I still believe he was right.

Sharyl’s first ballot was in ’68 the choices were Richard Nixon (Tricky Dick) or Hubert Humphrey.  I am just proud to live in a country where it is OK to call the President “Tricky Dick” or “Slick Willie” or “Peanuts” or “Dubya”.  I have kind of been out of touch, I don’t know if the guy we just reelected has a nickname or if he is OK with that sort of thing.

The real reason I am at the keyboard tonight is not to talk about politics.  Politics is one of the four things I don’t seriously discuss with friends.  The other three are religion, family doctors and motor oil.  Maybe I will explain the motor oil deal later.

The four years following that final routine trip to Seminole is the real reason I’m here. Sometimes it seems like yesterday.  Sometimes it seems like a very long time ago.  I use the word routine because she continued to go to the office occasionally until last November 4^th but those trips were not the “love you babe, have a good, day I’ll see you about 5:30” kind of trips.  I almost always took her and, if she was having a good day, 3 hours was a long stay.

The past few weeks I have struggled with my inability to get better.  I shared that struggle in a recent post. A few days ago something drove me to read the original entry to the “ourmom” blog.  I kept reading, not because I wanted to.  I read it because I needed to or had to.  I read every word of the 312 posts and every word of your 1084 comments.  I won’t share that experience; it is much too personal.

When I finished what Lori and I wrote, from Dec 10 ’08 through Jan 29 ’12, I was a basket case, I am proud you weren’t here.  I took a little break, regained enough composure to see the monitor again and read the final 11 posts.  God I’m glad I wrote those last eleven.  I think I have taken another small step back up that hill.  I know I feel better; at least for a little while.

When I was a kid I hung around the corner gas station a lot.  There was always a bunch of old men sitting around drinking RC Cola and talking about life, politics and sometimes they talked about motor oil.  I thought there might be a fistfight to determine if Gulf Pride was better than Havoline or Trop Artic or Pennzoil.  If they would have listened to a kid I could have settled it because Dad didn’t hang around the gas station but he knew about cars and he always used Gulf Pride.

I decided not to risk a friendship over motor oil; as I got older I added doctors, religion and politics to the list.

Please consider a donation to the cancer research organization of your choice.

Thanks for coming along; please keep me in your prayers.

Good Night and God Bless.

Dave

Each of us has two biological parents, four grandparents, eight great grandparents then sixteen and thirty two; I don’t want to hunt a calculator so I’ll quit there.

If you read what I write you knew it was coming.  The genealogy bug has bitten me, I am now a dues paying member of Ancestry Dot Com. That looks kind of funny with Dot appearing as a word instead of just a . doesn’t it?

Most of the people I have encountered, that are anxious to share their genealogical research with me, have found a Prince, a war hero, a Pulitzer winner or some other type of fame or royalty in one of those many branches. They normally don’t say much about the other branches.  So far I didn’t find that guy and quite frankly I don’t really care.

Two things tweaked my curiosity enough to take a peek up among all those branches.

I have always been a little curious about my Native American heritage. I have no desire to put my name on any tribal rolls. Kind of like the war hero or royalty, it wouldn’t change who I am.  I have just always wondered, after all I was born and raised in “The Home of the Redman”.

I had the pleasure of spending time with three of my grandparents as I grew up. I spent more time with my mom’s mother, we always called her gram’ma; I know it is spelled grandma, but we didn’t use the N and P when we said it. I have always wanted to use her picture in a blog.  I don’t know when this was taken because she always looked like that.  I also don’t know if she had knees because I never saw them.

If she looks familiar, just think about Sylvester and Tweety Bird, and yes she always had a bird and some cats.

That fourth grandparent is the other reason I have joined forces with ancestry.com. I didn’t even see a picture of him until I was almost 70 years old.

The only thing I knew was that he went after that proverbial “pack of cigarettes” when my mom was about 7 years old. Leaving the sweet little lady pictured above to care for five kids, the oldest was about 10 or 11, the youngest about 2 and severely physically handicapped.

He came back (I don’t know if he found the smokes) about 7 years later.  He only stayed a short time. This time my uncles, now in their late teens, sent him for cigarettes and suggested a one-way trip would probably be in his best interest.

What I have learned: He was born in Fannin County, Texas in 1882.  I think I know who his parents are but I’m still looking for proof.  The 1890 Fannin County census would provide that proof, but those documents were destroyed by fire.  I suspect his parents may have burned the evidence and changed their names because I haven’t found them since 1884.

In 1900 he was 17, still in Texas, and listed as a “lodger” with a family.

In 1910 he was In Oklahoma married to my gram’ma, they had two of the eventual five children.  He was still there when he registered for the draft in 1918.

The 1920 census shows him in Newkirk, Ok married to a lady named Nora; gram’ma’s name isn’t Nora.  For the record he and my grandma never divorced.  He was living in California with the Nora lady in 1924.

There is no documentation to prove this but I believe it was about 1926 or 27 when he came back to grammas house for the short stay.

The 1930 census lists him as an inmate at San Quentin Prison in California; maybe he stole some cigarettes.

In 1940 he was living in Arizona with a lady named Gerta, again this wasn’t gramma’s name.

He died in California in 1946.  I’m sure his side of the story would have been interesting.

I have learned a couple things. If you can’t handle the answer, don’t ask the question (I already knew that) and just maybe some of my problems are genetic.

If I happen to find that super hero I will share that with you, just remember I shared the rotten branch first.

I think I have the initial answers to the Native American questions.  I always thought I was 1/8 Chickasaw. I based that on what I thought was good and logical information. Based on the documents I have reviewed recently I now believe I am 1/16 Cherokee.

I plan to spend some long gray winter days running the various branches of the tree.  I promise I won’t use it as blog material again anytime soon.

I had a good run to the lake last week.  I think life is getting a little better, but it is still up and down kind of like the Yo-Yo.

Please keep me in your prayers; I know the next few months are going to be a real challenge.  Thanks for all you do.

Good Night and God Bless.

Dave