"Home"

 

 

This is the edge of town.  What town?  Bakers Summit, deep in the mountains of southern Pennsylvania.  My grandfather and his brother left this area when they were young men.  To my knowledge they never came back.  My grandfather went to Kansas first to work as a hired man.  Then he moved to central Illinois, met my grandmother and settled down, working as a carpenter and then in the local foundry.  His brother married a local girl also and farmed the rich, fertile Illinois land. 
You may wonder why I made a detour in my trip back from the East coast a few days ago....a short distance to visit a place I had never seen before.
My great-grandfather was Jeremiah Myers.  He was married to Catherine Holsinger.  I know very little about them, only what my dad told me and what I have found in searching the records in that area.
A few years ago I came very close to making a visit to Bakers Summit.  We were  traveling the same road...back to Missouri.  But I looked at the busy interstate ahead of me, saw the tract houses that had been built there and thought that I couldn't bear to see my grandfather's hometown made over into a suburb of Altoona, or worse yet, fallen down and shabby, full of empty stores and windows.  A ghost town..memories crowding the lanes and corners where my ancestors lived and died.
We drove through the little town....it is just one street with houses and an old school, several places that could have been stores.  I was so happy to see new paint, no broken windows, flowers in roadside gardens, a peaceful scene set in an idyllic place.
Down a country road I had Andy pull over and park.  Wonders of wonders I saw the sign on the church.  Holsinger Church of the Brethren.  The door was open and I could hear the congregation singing....For the beauty of the earth, for the glory of the skies....my heart sang right along with them.  This was my family's home church.  I walked through the graveyard but I knew I wouldn't find my people here.  There were Myers and Holsingers.  Probably distant cousins.  My great-grandparents are buried somewhere out in the country...away from the little village.  But I walked among the stones and read the faded names...each one probably knew my family, my grandfather, his brother.  I wonder, did they ever wonder what happened to them?
I may never get a chance to  visit this place again.  But I am glad that I took the time to stop just this once.
Home is home.  And where you are from still draws you back.  Connecting with family places and scenes makes life seem right somehow. 
With a smile on my face and joy in my heart, I climbed into the car, ready to go on now that I had visited 'home'.

Somedays I sit and think.....

As age creeps up on me like a stealthy thief, I find myself sitting more.  And some days I sit and think.  And some days I just sit.

 What a wonderful time I have just being at rest with my thoughts.  I don't think of myself as a profound person.  I pretty much take life one day at a time.  That is what seems best to me, right now.  I have a roof over my head.  Food to eat.  Some money in the bank.  A car and a truck to drive.  Friends.  Family.

Solitude is a marvelous thing.

On a good day I can bring forward those happy memories that I choose to remember.  The bad creeps in from time to time, but I have learned to ignore it and it generally leaves me alone. 

When I was younger I often wondered what my grandmother did all day, sitting and rocking and smiling to herself from time to time.

Now I know.  Not that I am ready to sit and rock from sunup to sundown.  But, every now and then I like to sit.  Sometimes thinking.  Sometimes not. 

  

Cold Water

Come down to the river.  Aren't we blessed with abundant cool water in our hottest of days?  There is nothing like jumping, or walking, or creeping into the fast flowing streams that dot our area here in the Real Ozarks.  We are so lucky to have  clean, running, cooling water.  But it IS cold.  Some of the rivers are warmer.  Other rivers are warmer in some places.  But for a refreshing dip on a smoldering hot summer day....the river, the creek, the pond is the place to be.

I love the feeling of icy freshness that I feel on my arms and legs and feet when I dip down into the water, until it comes up to my chin.  And wonder of wonders, I can see my feet down below.  Such a wonderful treat...clear, cold water to revive my spirit. 

Take your choice.  The Bryant with its tree lined banks and glassy pools,  The Norfork with its rocky rapids and meandering ways. Go to Warren.  Go to Bertha.  Go to Patrick.  Go to Dawt, or Hodgson, or any place where road or path meets the icy stream of cold, clear water.  Your skin will soon develop a frozen rind that only thaws when you take your towel and sit in the sun for a minute or two.  And then.....you'll take that dive again.  Into the cold water.

July

Steamy July has arrived on my hilltop home.  And with it the smells and sounds of summer come rolling up the valley in a cloud of green leaves, swaying grass, and bird song at break of day.

My morning walk is earlier now.  Cool breezes make the climb up and down the hill easier.  Shadows shield the climbing vines growing daily as they cover last fall's leaves with velvet tendrils.  A sunbeam spotlights the fresh face of a black-eyed  Susan, nodding her head in the early morning light.

I hear the call of the morning meadow lark.  Nesting now and feeding their young they are busy catching food, keeping a wary eye out for danger with every move they make.

In the distance a tractor begins the day with a loud and steady rumble.  Now is the season for work and very little play.  The days are long and full of things to do.  Bring in the bounty of the garden.  Tastes of homegrown food, fresh to the table whet my appetite for more and more and more of Nature's bounty.

How wonderful you are July.

And here in the blessed cool before the heat of the new day, I smile, looking forward to another summer day.