tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1379096619476477522024-02-20T23:39:02.574-05:00Bobbi's Mercer MemoriesThis blog is not connected in anyway with "Mercer's Magazine."Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15334812243182354729noreply@blogger.comBlogger74125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137909661947647752.post-10248740396168982762011-05-17T14:37:00.000-04:002011-05-17T14:38:12.860-04:00Happiness and Sadness of May<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTNZzIdULZ44s_1sCQkFIGF0TJooYJIsZEoze3KVy2xpW14pzS2IhSJOkVBBrBbPK_z1x4ozXz94Ik_q8yvkI-44XmWRWriCxdYYXUJ_TA8bgTJFiBcXqGgF37cd2WX_kF82QbAKIEhF0/s1600/Peonies_Iris+2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTNZzIdULZ44s_1sCQkFIGF0TJooYJIsZEoze3KVy2xpW14pzS2IhSJOkVBBrBbPK_z1x4ozXz94Ik_q8yvkI-44XmWRWriCxdYYXUJ_TA8bgTJFiBcXqGgF37cd2WX_kF82QbAKIEhF0/s400/Peonies_Iris+2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607748264433645266" /></a>Where has the year gone? Just yesterday we were celebrating the holidays and now I’m back to working in the yard. My Granny Devine always did say time speeds up as you got older, and now I’m seeing this is so true.<br /><br />While I’m not a hot weather, summer person, I am glad to finally leave the cold days of winter behind. Too many days of sub-zero weather has made my joints ache and creak, so I’m ready for a change. Warmer weather means more time in the garden, more time to walk and more time to soak up the daylight. Of course, it's still Kentucky, so we are still having some cold days - not to mention the inches and inches of rain we have had. <br /><br />The month of May is the perfect time to shed our winter skins and slip into the latest summer fashions. After months of cabin fever and overwhelming darkness, you feel an almost rebirth at the excess of sunshine and warmth.<br /><br />May has always been a transition month for my family. We are transitioning from the long winter and spring into the warmth of summer and from school to summer break. We are transitioning from slow time, early darkness and structured schedules to fast time, later sunsets and relaxed casualness. We say goodbye to prime-time television, large pots of chili and blue jeans with sneakers and say hello to drive-in movies, salad from the Farmer's Market and shorts with flip flops. <br /><br />I cannot believe I no longer have any children in the local school system. Christine has just completed her first year at Berea College and she is excited about her college career. It has been hard adjusting to no children in the house, but now I have her home again, even if it's only for three months.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirW4Pae7trHYBe6xoD3lcqMwL24u53EQUixo52haberymMYnlPOrgMR0wnKIzywZtF_LIPG0QisJBtrVjymJToLzo-0DRs4BxujzMIkApwaNNB64T5WXhtij4Rify-QNlsEIw7Fu7W8vQ/s1600/devon.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 337px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirW4Pae7trHYBe6xoD3lcqMwL24u53EQUixo52haberymMYnlPOrgMR0wnKIzywZtF_LIPG0QisJBtrVjymJToLzo-0DRs4BxujzMIkApwaNNB64T5WXhtij4Rify-QNlsEIw7Fu7W8vQ/s400/devon.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607745729574096994" /></a>I am so incredibly proud of all three of my daughters – I could not have asked for three better girls if I had tried to order them from a catalog. They are all intelligent and responsible adults and they fill my life with joy. My granddaughter, Devon Mikayla, is already a special girl - and spoiled rotten - she has us all wrapped right around her little finger.<br /><br />May 19th is a special day for Keith and I – it will be our 21st wedding anniversary. We have been together for 25 years and are happy to be celebrating such a great milestone. Like most couples, we have had our ups and downs, our sicknesses and health, our richer and poorer, but we have created a unique family with strong ties and our bond is even stronger today than it was 21 years ago. We have raised three beautiful, intelligent daughters and they are our pride and joy and we are both spoiling the granddaughter. We may not have done everything right, but we keep plugging away and try to keep everyone happy and on an even keel.<br /><br />A big event at Fort Harrod State Park – Bark in the Park - just took place last weekend (May 14th). The Community of Mercer County Writers - my writing group - has written our 2nd volume of "Prose and Poetry for Pets" and we sold them for $5 each. All proceeds go to the Mercer County Humane Society, the charity of choice for our group. Even though it rained cats and dogs - pun intended - there were several people who ventured out. Trying to keep our tent above water was our major problem.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXHhLBIJ0wo8hMl6pGjNTOdw0ZDntnBSy1EnYEXxaR6Kl9q3-LPBqGD0RrvcL7zFoiMESQKUkRIgH61T6PmjrkZJSzTHB-si3UEduM7Yi-mFPRgyQTmlBDUHF9fXi1OrHM1xL4crOp78U/s1600/Momma+HS+pix.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 309px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXHhLBIJ0wo8hMl6pGjNTOdw0ZDntnBSy1EnYEXxaR6Kl9q3-LPBqGD0RrvcL7zFoiMESQKUkRIgH61T6PmjrkZJSzTHB-si3UEduM7Yi-mFPRgyQTmlBDUHF9fXi1OrHM1xL4crOp78U/s400/Momma+HS+pix.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607746718247736578" /></a>May also brought us Mother’s Day near the beginning of the month (May 8th). This is the first Mother's Day without my mother, Brenda Sallee; I really didn't handle it well, hiding in the house and wanting to be alone. My mother-in-law, Christine Holtzclaw Rightmyer, is a special lady and I am blessed to have her in my life. I thank God everyday that she brought Keith into my life. <br /><br />Even though my Momma's first Angel Day is on the 23rd and I can't believe she has been gone one year, May is shaping up to be an exciting, memorable month,. It will be a time of great joy and happiness, grief and sadness and I look forward to making lots of new memories. Reconnecting with family and friends should be a priority this year, so why not plan some special events with your loved ones. Time is only getting shorter, so make the most of it while you still can. Remember, memories live on forever.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15334812243182354729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137909661947647752.post-70912481645723597742011-04-07T15:03:00.008-04:002011-05-17T15:35:47.215-04:00Pebbles<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimCNkdKqTCW-A7G2Uu5cxhXfKb2OwV1rvz7DfNYOCMFdtc-ii2sBDerkPAcoKXiH6PAr4vQz7yAQ0oOUVopa5B0N4GmXcC0lCD_aE5fjAF6peroEokcGhfggCc0zIm1qt0-l8hbDFsnwkt/s1600/random_pebbles2.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 375px; height: 281px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimCNkdKqTCW-A7G2Uu5cxhXfKb2OwV1rvz7DfNYOCMFdtc-ii2sBDerkPAcoKXiH6PAr4vQz7yAQ0oOUVopa5B0N4GmXcC0lCD_aE5fjAF6peroEokcGhfggCc0zIm1qt0-l8hbDFsnwkt/s400/random_pebbles2.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607769414462602914" /></a>The loss of a family pet can have a major impact on your lives, it is like losing a member of the family. About five years, our family experienced the death of our beloved dog, Pebbles. Although we have lost many pets over the years — mice, hamsters, fish, gerbils, iguana, cats — losing Pebbles was the first dog Christine had ever lost and she was taking it very hard. <br /><br />Pebbles was adopted from the Mercer County Humane Society in 1997 — Christine was about five at the time, so the two of them have grown up together. Pebbles was a Sheltie-mix and she was approximately one year old when she came to live with us. Keith had seen a picture of this cute dog in the Harrodsburg Herald and the next day he and Christine went to check it out. It was love at first sight and they adopted her on the spot. He took a picture of Pebbles to bring home and show the rest of the family because it would be two days before she was ready to come home.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhItcg5eDgROvxbAfXCfuyD3D-bgLg6zDZ6dQpsTFc8agWnrpiyLTPxZTMobjgvrnHLHHDeJTNyRYpGOZS8ndjlJpwhgTndiEjJZa_4S3Z8_eh-5_fB7jNnqUHQRJMWXVELzvZdMRK0Cxxz/s1600/pebbles_sign2.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhItcg5eDgROvxbAfXCfuyD3D-bgLg6zDZ6dQpsTFc8agWnrpiyLTPxZTMobjgvrnHLHHDeJTNyRYpGOZS8ndjlJpwhgTndiEjJZa_4S3Z8_eh-5_fB7jNnqUHQRJMWXVELzvZdMRK0Cxxz/s400/pebbles_sign2.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607769606207022594" /></a><br />Christine picked out the name Pebbles after the Flintstone’s Pebbles and Bam-Bam. Amber and Marie were also excited about the new addition to the family; they had been wanting a dog and we just kept putting it off because we had an indoor cat. Pogo was Keith’s cat and she didn’t warm up to new people or animals easily. After Keith and I got married, it took a long time before Amber and Marie were able to even get near Pogo to pet her, much less pick her up. We were afraid a dog would throw her into shock. We lost Pogo over 20 years ago — she was over 18-years-old.<br /><br />It didn’t take Pebbles long to become one of the family. She was most attracted to Marie, although she loved to be around all of us. After the first few weeks, Pebbles was not the same skinny dog we had originally brought home. She was happy and healthy and had put on some weight. Apparently, Pebbles had come from an abusive situation, because she had a tendency to “cow down” whenever anyone raised their voice.<br /><br />I could never get Pebbles to come to me when I would call for her — she always seemed to run in the opposite direction when I would call her. But she would always come to Keith’s call or whistle. Pebbles would do almost anything Keith would tell her to do, with the exception of getting her to stay down at meal time.<br /><br />Pebbles loved table scraps and she was not above begging everyone for a bite. We knew table scraps were probably not good for her, but she loved them so much. We also had a hard time keeping her out of the cat food, even though she always had food in her dish — she would always sneak back and finish up whatever the cats had not eaten.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmhSJIVU2yCDLGxP5xFov40vGRaTPr5ELpHWCoXqxSij2qC_xQlpcdWx8F9Wol8qX_9h4od-HLMXkAdoFw3LXz2UWU2N1uGji_CAcDyfDWKauCbf2JFHjI09bhyphenhyphentajzOzaV2OC6UxdLgDv/s1600/pebbles_santahat.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmhSJIVU2yCDLGxP5xFov40vGRaTPr5ELpHWCoXqxSij2qC_xQlpcdWx8F9Wol8qX_9h4od-HLMXkAdoFw3LXz2UWU2N1uGji_CAcDyfDWKauCbf2JFHjI09bhyphenhyphentajzOzaV2OC6UxdLgDv/s400/pebbles_santahat.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607769908231453106" /></a><br />Even though she would not come to me when I called her, Pebbles would follow me around the house like a shadow. Whenever I was home she would slept at my feet or follow me from room to room—even the bathroom. Pebbles could be a nuisance at times, but we all loved her and we could tell that she loved us.<br /><br />Pebbles would get so excited when it was time to go outside. She would jump and prance around the door waiting for someone to open it. Then she would charge out the door like the Calvary coming to the rescue. She would run several laps around the front yard just as fast as her legs would let her. She would sometimes bark and root her nose into the ground. <br /><br />Pebbles was a wonderful guard dog because she would bark at any noise she would hear outside. Once she became used to friends or relatives coming to visit, she would become excited to she them — running to the person or trying to jump up on them. The jumping up on people was something we were still working on with Pebbles, but we weren’t having much success.<br /><br />Over years, Christine and Pebbles became the best of friends and you could tell they loved being with each other. Sometimes Christine would but the leash on Pebbles’ collar and take her for a walk, other times they would just run and romp in the backyard or the back field. I can still see Christine rolling around on the lawn with Pebbles jumping on her, trying to lick her face.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNULn1_SpxIgPs4i5WE3JQWcr4un0aZRU6mu4y2MYuOyNNUditXT5C7gSFXG6yxsTuOoYzl5DziZqW3nPDpiWDz07sGJE0mPOBP7CEWPEpLaztajZst-L2W7w2iBjhvo9FAxNdjj9ZaMdg/s1600/random_pebbles.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 375px; height: 281px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNULn1_SpxIgPs4i5WE3JQWcr4un0aZRU6mu4y2MYuOyNNUditXT5C7gSFXG6yxsTuOoYzl5DziZqW3nPDpiWDz07sGJE0mPOBP7CEWPEpLaztajZst-L2W7w2iBjhvo9FAxNdjj9ZaMdg/s400/random_pebbles.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607770328220067938" /></a><br />When Pebbles died, we still had three indoor cats, but Christine missed Pebbles. She immediately started to talk about finding a replacement dog. Although there is no substitute for Pebbles, it would be nice to have another guard dog. We are trying to put Christine off — we wanted her to get over the initial shock of losing her first dog before we become attached to another one.<br /><br />Pebbles is buried in our pet cemetery, along with Pogo the cat, Tully the bird and Snowball the rabbit, WeeHawk the cat, and several more I cannot recall. I will occasionally see Christine near the pet cemetery and my heart aches for her sadness. We have a new dog now - Rusty - and even though he is a great guard dog and Christine loves him, he is no replacement for Pebbles. Pebbles will always remain in our hearts.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15334812243182354729noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137909661947647752.post-36595849415665548632011-02-03T05:05:00.001-05:002011-02-23T05:23:14.713-05:00Buildings of Days Gone By<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihU-vqiuCTTipmyOND_3GezS5pbf1p8l_l8pJkQtOhQ6FDjV4LWtte1F9Ap6pD1wyhLfCINMwl-T7n7N-2tkBCGnf5OChk4hNRlu0DaKxW0oRo28UDXZfvRdaUBvtUKMqTCEpGP0q5nW0G/s1600/barn_famr1000.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 301px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576824908834290866" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihU-vqiuCTTipmyOND_3GezS5pbf1p8l_l8pJkQtOhQ6FDjV4LWtte1F9Ap6pD1wyhLfCINMwl-T7n7N-2tkBCGnf5OChk4hNRlu0DaKxW0oRo28UDXZfvRdaUBvtUKMqTCEpGP0q5nW0G/s400/barn_famr1000.jpg" /></a><br />(Photos by Dan Felstead of <a href="http://woodandpixels.blogspot.com/">Wood and Pixel Narratives</a>)</div><br /><br />In recent months, I have been so proud of all the improvements going on in downtown Harrodsburg. Historic buildings are being refurbished and repainted and new businesses continue to struggle along in the struggling economy. Even older businesses are beginning to join in the remaking process.<br /><br />Three of my favorite businesses on Main Street are Studio G, Beehive Gifts and Kentucky Fudge Company. The first two are longtime businesses and continue to attract new customers every day. The Fudge Company may be a new face in downtown, but it is fast becoming a favorite spot in Harrodsburg.<br /><br />Studio G – owned and operated by Goldie Goldsmith-Vigneri – offers instructions and seminars for men and women fours years old and up. Pageant training, vocal and acting lessons, and confidence building are just a tiny portion of what is offered at Studio G. In addition to lessons, Studio G can also be rented for private birthday parties, meetings, dinners, weddings and casino nights.<br /><br />Beehive Gifts – owned and operated by Jim and Shirley Sprague – is a wonderful gift shop and great place to find all types of collectibles. Boyds Bears, Willow Tree Angels, Precious Moments, Tim Wolfe Sculptures, and Cherished Teddies are all available for purchase. Beehive Gifts also offers several different lines of candles, including Yankee, Bridgewater, Candleberry, and Woodwick. If you are having trouble finding the perfect gift, Beehive Gifts will offer the ideal suggestions.<br /><br />Kentucky Fudge Company – owned and operated by Tim and Jennifer Kazimer - is located in the historic Dedman’s Drugstore. In addition to the yummy homemade fudge, Kentucky Fudge Company also offers an assortment of ice cream treats from cones to milkshakes to sundaes. The café offers a different soup of the day, as well as the Harrodsburger, chicken salad, olive nut loaf and several other sandwich options.<br /><br />As I reminisce about my favorite Harrodsburg locations, I have a sobering reality of the historical places disappearing from our landscape, most notably the Mercer County Court House. I understand the need for more space in the Mercer judicial system, but watching the demolition of the court house has been very sad. I drive through down town Harrodsburg every weekday on my way to work, so I have watched the deconstruction of this building with a heavy heart.<br /><br />This also reminds me of the destruction of the Hat Factory several years ago. Until its demolition in 2003, the old St. Andrews convent – known as the Hat Factory – was the oldest residence in Harrodsburg. Although the ROC building owned by the Harrodsburg Baptist Church has been a huge success, I can’t help but wonder what our ancestors would think about our practice of tearing down a historic building to put up a gymnasium.<br /><br />Most rural grocery stores have totally disappeared, only to be replaced by convenience stores with gas pumps. Two of my favorite stores, Purvis’ and Peavler’s, both ceased to operate while I was still a little girl. The building for Purvis’ Grocery was totally removed, replaced by the Mooreland Avenue entrance into Mr. Kwik. Peavler’s Grocery was located on Magnolia Street, and although the building is still standing, it is a sad reminder of our past. Other small stores I miss were located in Bohon, Duncan, and Antioch.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfwpKboTpuXMsd37p15x0_hCJyn30LrdN_GboYEbMlekWAk1Q2WyAO2FDVsUAwxmJHXAq8uD9KHJaZkpDPrW8Lfl7dF-uEc6JHjDLNUstjvyXJOV5EL5UDXQ4_eE_vJ27V51G0QlHRgZsZ/s1600/barn_view_house1000.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 292px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfwpKboTpuXMsd37p15x0_hCJyn30LrdN_GboYEbMlekWAk1Q2WyAO2FDVsUAwxmJHXAq8uD9KHJaZkpDPrW8Lfl7dF-uEc6JHjDLNUstjvyXJOV5EL5UDXQ4_eE_vJ27V51G0QlHRgZsZ/s400/barn_view_house1000.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576827982738682562" /></a><br /><br /><br />Driving through the country, I also notice the many barns and outbuildings slowing falling into decay from lack of use. Tobacco barns and cattle barns with roofs falling in or lumber falling off, they are pictorial reminders of a life gone by. Occasionally you can still see old outhouses, smokehouse, spring houses and root cellars, but these are also disappearing with each day that goes by. Along with the shrinking of family farms, along goes the buildings that made small farming possible. I recently heard someone call old barns, “the graying bones of our past;” poetic, but true.<br /><br />Even the gas station where my father used to work is long gone. Once located at the intersection of Mackville and Perryville Roads, I have so many fond memories of visiting the gas station and being treated to a cold Coke from the old fashion machine. The old Mercer Roller Rink building is still standing, albeit vacant expect for one week during the year. When the Grand Old Mercer County Fair and Horse Show comes to town, the old roller rink is turned into the pride of Mercer County with the many exhibitors of the Floral Hall.<br /><br />The Harrodsburg City Pool is now nothing but memories – I actually cried when the pool and building was torn down. I spent so much of my childhood swimming in the pool and sunbathing on the decks overlooking the Salt River. Now the pool is only a memory and my children will never know the joys it could bring.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15334812243182354729noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137909661947647752.post-56788617975173217522011-01-05T05:36:00.000-05:002011-02-23T06:08:51.911-05:00SHADOWS OF MY PAST<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPla8os17I3VwyZNqo21wXKehSbND-qAZ1OZS_j4ER9zIPI0yuKcH-DJiT-BN-Fu_GHdxRZvh1JaVR9DBmZI0skFtV6NBLiiEWlR3HIpl-ZMDWzPMEihdZS5G28LdbArBuWJSMkMMdTkZl/s1600/bipolar"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 211px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPla8os17I3VwyZNqo21wXKehSbND-qAZ1OZS_j4ER9zIPI0yuKcH-DJiT-BN-Fu_GHdxRZvh1JaVR9DBmZI0skFtV6NBLiiEWlR3HIpl-ZMDWzPMEihdZS5G28LdbArBuWJSMkMMdTkZl/s400/bipolar" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576840167485904338" /></a><br />Five years ago I was a happy, energetic married mother of three beautiful daughters, and although I am still happily married with three beautiful daughters, but I was no longer happy or energetic.<br /><br />When my baby sister died in January 2005, my life went downhill fast, into a swirling, liquid, non-stop flight of depression and grief. I eventually quit my job as a Registered Nurse because I was suddenly unhappy with my work – or was it because my sister had been in nursing school and we had plans of her joining me at the hospital where I worked? Although I don't regret leaving my job for a single minute, I have isolated myself away from the world, surrounding myself into a cocoon of grief.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzpBcVLgHyW1LEx943uMmLB_XGAk7uYfai8VDs4aNQBaQMVn9EdYHFFDqd0A1JXk_ejaTaQNGhgUgdso9az-W3U1O-K9tHCAyTQqYr2eE-lg3dS5TaoqKqj1SD3JjgCjMhoEI9tju0XA_4/s1600/Amy+007.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzpBcVLgHyW1LEx943uMmLB_XGAk7uYfai8VDs4aNQBaQMVn9EdYHFFDqd0A1JXk_ejaTaQNGhgUgdso9az-W3U1O-K9tHCAyTQqYr2eE-lg3dS5TaoqKqj1SD3JjgCjMhoEI9tju0XA_4/s400/Amy+007.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576839103079381906" /></a><br /><br />I used to love working in my gardens, but the past five years, my poor gardens have been terribly neglected because I haven't had the energy or desire to take care of them. My home is also not as clean, my meals not as delectable, and my volunteer work has blown to the wayside.<br /><br />My wonderful hubby accepted me for who I was and loved me unconditionally, but I knew he was worried about me. The same goes for my three daughters – gone was the mother who participated in every aspect of her children’s lives, replaced by the shell of a mother who was just barely hanging on.<br /><br />Up until about four years ago, I was the "take charge" person in every crisis, methodically working through the problems to find the right solution. Only after the crisis was over and everything was going back to normal did I allow myself a moment of panic. But since the death of my sister, the "take chargedness" has left me. Suddenly I am a person who falls apart at the first little hint of trouble, and when things really get bad, I melt down and have to go to sleep. Sleep is my new coping mechanism, protecting me from having to deal with situations or problems that cause me great stress.<br /><br />For the past five years, I have been running from life - running from the grief of my sister's death. Her passing left a huge crater in my heart and it has been difficult to leap over the wide expanse of pain. My family has given me space – given me time to come to terms with my heartache and for that, I will always be grateful.<br /><br />Just when I think I’m ready to jump back into the real world, my mother dies. For three weeks, on and off, she was in and out of the hospital and with the exception of one night, I stayed with her every night. If I hadn’t stayed, my Dad would not have left her sight and I knew he needed his rest. And after all, I had been a nurse for 20 years.<br /><br />Again the pain and grief came crashing down on me. The only difference is my Momma had been sick for a long time, and I was comforted by the fact she was no longer in pain. I miss her terribly, even still pick up the phone to try and call her before I remember, I won’t be able to talk to her again for a long time.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOEqqQKv7RBbqVrLJU91OEhLfqfaoEWpZ9Heaiz6FSMdaHad9WnVSM0LpcVloxA6nevgk0lHT2zdJUogSNPRlCBj6lfiU4jrBOrpNCEtxaQP_91RsUZlfMkcOLpOlbBEfNapDyPJh2CFlI/s1600/Momma+HS+pix.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 309px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOEqqQKv7RBbqVrLJU91OEhLfqfaoEWpZ9Heaiz6FSMdaHad9WnVSM0LpcVloxA6nevgk0lHT2zdJUogSNPRlCBj6lfiU4jrBOrpNCEtxaQP_91RsUZlfMkcOLpOlbBEfNapDyPJh2CFlI/s400/Momma+HS+pix.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576834924533931666" /></a><br /><br />My bottomless pit of misery didn’t last as long this time, probably for two reasons. The first is as soon as I realized how sick my Momma was, I worked with my psychiatrist to change my medications to help me deal with the depression, anxiety and anti-social behavior that still plaque my life. I knew I would be in and out of hospitals, so my anxiety had to be more under control so I could be more in control. The second reason, I think, is because my sister’s death was so sudden, unexpected; she had just turned her life around. Amy had changed her life; Momma was very sick.<br /><br />Now it is time for me to begin living again. This year I am trying harder to pull my life together and enjoy the small things in life. Last year at my husband’s encouragement, I signed up for a writing workshop at my local public library. This was one of the best things to happen in my life for several years. <br /><br />Not only did this workshop jumpstart my writing career, it has made a huge difference in my attitude on life and has given me a network of other writers to lean on. For someone with a severe anxiety disorder and phobia of being in large groups of people, I have been forcing myself to participate in public readings.<br />To say these activities scare me to death is an understatement, but I can actually see myself growing as a person and a writer, instead of always hiding in the shadow. I realize that in order to introduce myself back into society, I am going to have to put effort into going out in public. <br /><br />After five years of self-deprecating pain and grief, I am now running toward life with new hopes and dreams. I'm still struggling, but the baby steps are turning into toddler steps and for the first time, I'm catching glimpses of my former self.<br />The shadows of my past are still leave scars upon my soul, but some are lightened with age; some are still fresh like a huge, gaping wound. The trials and tribulations which have shaped my life have been a mixture of feelings and hope, emotions and tears, lessons and sins. I have clawed my way up from the inside out, testing and trying to find the right way, hoping the shadow of painful memories will stop cutting me too sharply. I’m learning to stand tall again, learning to live life again and learning the mysterious lessons presented in my life.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15334812243182354729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137909661947647752.post-28902640522961014922010-12-29T06:03:00.008-05:002010-12-29T08:02:43.466-05:00Favorite Dolls and Christmas<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrEg30q0Jobo4qPXinYKYruQKg_K7rz2qe2EztmvfdsfWHYuwFpQvYBlkWapD8z7GT7ckpKRIwKtniBxiXJJJH4N1NVtTKAYpjW3fsQtZAYPZrTG6lZlOW9m8p8mXOtBLWmhknJbyl3trg/s1600/_2010_Devon+1st+Christmas+008.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrEg30q0Jobo4qPXinYKYruQKg_K7rz2qe2EztmvfdsfWHYuwFpQvYBlkWapD8z7GT7ckpKRIwKtniBxiXJJJH4N1NVtTKAYpjW3fsQtZAYPZrTG6lZlOW9m8p8mXOtBLWmhknJbyl3trg/s400/_2010_Devon+1st+Christmas+008.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556086907944320002" /></a><br />Growing up in the late 1960s and early 70s, dolls were one of my favorite things; they are probably the favorite toy of most girls all over the world. All I ever wanted to be was a wife and mother, so dolls were my childhood playmates, and a way to let my maternal side show.<br /> <br />Aunt Virginia Ann, my Momma’s sister, got me a baby doll in the mid-1960s and I cherished her for years. I honestly don’t remember what happened to my baby doll, but within a few years Barbie and Skipper had taken over my life. My babysitter’s daughter had a Barbie trunk with all types of Barbie and Skipper clothes and accessories. During the summers I could spend all day playing with these dolls and clothes, as well as my own. When school started again in the fall, I played with all my Barbies after school; that is until reading entered my life. I was so proud of my Barbie clothes because my Granny Devine had made many of the outfits. I only have one of the “polyester” dresses my Granny made for my Barbies and I still have my very first Barbie.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAnA2SM4mDWoN-GEVJwm3Jnq5z_pWFxDBXR7TXC3jwoXc8Osi_PUmNbgCO1rQInYh_8WuwwZWo6amd5WBoPlYGo1-DAHXArL2d4cUeUsl0gshn8Suz9c6PJy3AJHbTfEHWYheZwnONqa4B/s1600/_2010_Devon+1st+Christmas+016.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAnA2SM4mDWoN-GEVJwm3Jnq5z_pWFxDBXR7TXC3jwoXc8Osi_PUmNbgCO1rQInYh_8WuwwZWo6amd5WBoPlYGo1-DAHXArL2d4cUeUsl0gshn8Suz9c6PJy3AJHbTfEHWYheZwnONqa4B/s400/_2010_Devon+1st+Christmas+016.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556088494473146274" /></a><br /><br /> <br />My most memorable Christmas centered around one toy, which I still treasure today. The entire Harrodsburg family was at my Granny Devine’s house and after a huge meal, my Aunt began to hand presents to me and my brother and sister. I was around eight or nine years old and I couldn’t wait to tear into my package, but as usual, we had to wait until everyone had a present before we could open anything. Ready, set, go…away we went, ripping the paper and ribbons. I loved all my presents, but this year held a delightful surprise. Granny had given me a china doll…my very first china doll. She was so beautiful with porcelain black hair on top of her creamy porcelain face, with blue eyes, just like mine, and pink rosy cheeks. Her dress was pink with tiny white polka dots and she had a matching bonnet on her head. She even had a crinoline skirt and petticoat underneath her dress. I was ecstatic! It was such a grown up present and I was so happy my Granny thought I was old enough to have my first china doll.<br /> <br />This was 1970 or 1971, but I can still remember the excitement of this particular Christmas Eve. When the present were all finally opened and the wrapping and ribbons cleaned up, the kids watched television while the adults talked. This particular year, I took a long hot bubble bath in Granny’s miniature bathroom and changed into the new pajamas my Aunt had given me; new pajamas were a must for Christmas. I was all ready to go home to bed so I could wait for Old Saint Nick. I couldn’t wait to rush my parents home so I could jump into bed, listening to every creak of the house, just knowing that Santa would arrive at any minute. As for my china doll, Miss Betsy, she is still one of most treasured possessions. She holds a place of honor in my glass cabinet where I can glance at her every day. All three of my daughters have several china dolls apiece, but they never cared for dolls as much as I do. My dolls are a significant part of my heritage and, although I have had many china dolls since Miss Betsy, none will ever remind me of Christmas, or my Granny Devine, like this one special doll.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbJG6V4hGxN_kMsHwm7iy4b5yyKjVF6x2d2ayblIQjjl4GWAd8lVe7EMGlHjwp2oMIUk5YI9079IlOD8bz6ex8tLiPYIwSwaL4fHV5eXClaWBQbh49pa4QVcfSz_CNv335QJSRQL_aTyW5/s1600/_2010_Devon+1st+Christmas+012.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbJG6V4hGxN_kMsHwm7iy4b5yyKjVF6x2d2ayblIQjjl4GWAd8lVe7EMGlHjwp2oMIUk5YI9079IlOD8bz6ex8tLiPYIwSwaL4fHV5eXClaWBQbh49pa4QVcfSz_CNv335QJSRQL_aTyW5/s400/_2010_Devon+1st+Christmas+012.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556087744363611490" /></a><br /><br /> <br />Momma also loved dolls, although her obsession started when she was much older. Whenever she would go shopping or was on vacation, she would find another doll for her collection. At the time of her death, she had two china cabinets filled with porcelain dolls and stuffed Boyd’s bears. What I like about her dolls is the fact they all have real hair; I always wished Miss Betsy had real hair so I could brush it. Most of my girl’s china dolls also have hair, but as I said, they never seemed interested in the dolls. It took Momma about five years before she realized my girl’s had no desire to have a doll collection. Most of these dolls are put away, and when my grandchildren get older, I will give the back to their mothers. Some of my dolls are 40 years old, but the girl’s dolls are from 10 to 25 years old; what a collectable “hand-me-down” these dolls will be. <br /><br />Aunt Joyce, my Daddy’s sister, also has a large doll collection. Here dolls are all over the house and in the bedrooms. Several of these dolls I recognize because Momma would have one just like it. As with Momma’s dolls, my aunt’s dolls mostly have hair, and they all are very beautiful.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDPieh9YJFZsklPYrRh77i-PEqzQA2BsTO3IvysTy2AI-JQGTFltVxuyCfXzVjefR_9CWsDEjUZnM3HBOmHi8OOsrv1xHUKhd0Rxgzacify5jPqTkb3mVhaYhen0idSuk-t8hr1drzEr-N/s1600/_2010_Devon+1st+Christmas+010.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDPieh9YJFZsklPYrRh77i-PEqzQA2BsTO3IvysTy2AI-JQGTFltVxuyCfXzVjefR_9CWsDEjUZnM3HBOmHi8OOsrv1xHUKhd0Rxgzacify5jPqTkb3mVhaYhen0idSuk-t8hr1drzEr-N/s400/_2010_Devon+1st+Christmas+010.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556088168681501010" /></a><br /><br /> <br />Another person in my life who loves dolls is Mrs. Gertrude Reed of Harrodsburg. Gertrude’s daughter is in the process of having her mother’s old dolls restored. One that is my favorite, is a doll with a porcelain head and stuffed body and she rides in a little wicker stroller. Gertrude said her sister had a duplicate doll in a stroller, but she couldn’t remember if it is still around. Gertrude, or rather her daughter, also had several other of her old dolls refinished, and she is happy to show them off when she is feeling well enough.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBZxrmyV-DOOqt1BVZsrJ6oCLKSTvZ1fZbo6HRo4_9PO-GcwZLhT638sjoNeqsQTi3KZk7KYWnBpc9W6CAb57BNxbYBASGhr5TaTi-Ygq4zmEp4spaWtjSdc691iIRc99Ddb99TnBgdeFf/s1600/_2010_Devon+1st+Christmas+013.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBZxrmyV-DOOqt1BVZsrJ6oCLKSTvZ1fZbo6HRo4_9PO-GcwZLhT638sjoNeqsQTi3KZk7KYWnBpc9W6CAb57BNxbYBASGhr5TaTi-Ygq4zmEp4spaWtjSdc691iIRc99Ddb99TnBgdeFf/s400/_2010_Devon+1st+Christmas+013.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556087290354192018" /></a><br /><br /> <br />I still love my dolls, even though I do not play with them anymore. I will occasionally take one out of the cabinet and just sit and hold her. Every doll I own brings back certain memories, most are good memories, but I do have one or two bad memories mainly because of the person who gave them to me. I can’t wait to see if my grandchildren are going to love dolls. The youngest is only six months old, so she is much too little to show an interest; the other will soon be three years old, but right now she loves all kinds of toys<br /> <br />What dolls or old toys do you have lurking in your attic or basement? You never know what item you will find from your past. These things would make wonderful keepsakes for your loved ones. Anything you hand down to another person will have its own heritage, but it will bring precious memories of loved ones you’ve lost.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15334812243182354729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137909661947647752.post-22530774396356464982010-10-29T14:28:00.000-04:002010-10-29T14:29:39.636-04:00My Library Memories<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdn5votaD2xN-eV4Z3kAnYD3V1rErh1bmYGNDAfW3sHp3-Y9FRj7_MkIHEXY7JRM8DhPQx3m0fRdXvt50egMNhw-k8uPcLFFC9FqUeQel2XlBYJGwqRkZzNE5yc1a-6SVn4javb5vIXLFr/s1600/mercer_county_public_library_logo.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 152px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdn5votaD2xN-eV4Z3kAnYD3V1rErh1bmYGNDAfW3sHp3-Y9FRj7_MkIHEXY7JRM8DhPQx3m0fRdXvt50egMNhw-k8uPcLFFC9FqUeQel2XlBYJGwqRkZzNE5yc1a-6SVn4javb5vIXLFr/s400/mercer_county_public_library_logo.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533534409533942034" /></a><br />I can remember the first time I went to the Mercer County Public Library, it was still located in historic Morgan Row. The building was old and this was in the late 1960s, so the wooden floors squeaked as you walked across them. Although the building held only a limited number of books, it was like the church sanctuary to me. I felt calm and at peace and free to touch and look at all the old books.<br /><br />I didn’t get to go to the library much when it moved to the corner of Lexington and Main Street, but I did use the Bookmobile. I can’t remember what day the Bookmobile came to Riverview, but I always had a list of books I was looking for. Many times the Bookmobile Librarian would recommend a new book, but more times than not, she would have to bring the books I wanted back to me in two weeks.<br /><br />As an elementary student, my favorite library was at Mercer County Elementary School. Ms. Joy Gash instilled the love of books and reading into my heart and I’ll forever be grateful to her. She always knew the perfect books to choose for me and many times would quiz me on what I had read. Even at this early age, I grew an attachment to certain books and when I started my own home library, these were the books I started with. “A Wrinkle in Time,” “Little Women,” “Are You There God, It’s Me, Margaret,” and the “Betsy” books were just a few of my favorites. I never was much for Nancy Drew, but I loved Trixie Belden.<br /><br />It was my babysitter’s daughter who got me attached to Trixie Belden. I read all her books and then had to have my own collection. These were my pride and joy and I read each one of them so many times, I knew them by heart. Momma would always take me to J. J. Newberry Department Store on Main Street to find the newest book.<br /><br />When I was 16, I thought I had outgrown Trixie, so I let a neighbor girl borrow my books – I never saw them again. When I started having children of my own, I would buy Trixie Belden books to read to them, but by this time, the books were all paperback. If I’m going to have a book in my home collection, it has to be a hardcover –unless the book comes no other way.<br /><br />I had the Whitman 1970s edition of the hardcover books – the original 16 books. One year for Christmas, my wonderful hubby surprised me with a boxed set of all 16 of the Trixie books, just like the ones I had. He had monitored eBay for weeks trying to find just the right editions and the most perfect condition. You could tell that the girl who owned this new set of books had loved them and read them often, because I could feel her presence in every well-worn page and gently cracked spine. This has been one of my favorite Christmas gifts ever.<br /><br />When I had my first children, the library was one of the first places I took the girls when they were old enough to behave in public. At three and four-years-old, Marie and Amber would attend summer library story hour with Mrs. Kathleen Day and the girls loved it. We would check out several books for the week. It was harder to make time for the library when I started nursing school, but we made do by checking out even more books when we went.<br /><br />By the time Christine was born, Marie and Amber were not as interested in reading and had quit letting me read to them at bedtime. So, I read to Christine, even though she wasn’t old enough to understand.<br /><br />When Christine was old enough to attend the library story time, Mrs. Day was still there and Christine fell instantly in love with her. We couldn’t check out enough books to last a full week and we ended up making two to three trips to the library per week.<br /><br />Christine loved books so much, she started to have her own favorites, just like I did. If we would check out the same book more than four or five times from the library, then we would have to try and buy this book to have at home. Sometimes these books were easy to find; others were a little harder because they were older. One example is “The Best Little Christmas Tree” – we had to have it ordered from Tony Sexton’s bookstore that used to be where the Mercer Humane Society is now. We still read this book at Christmas and it still makes me cry.<br /><br />About three years ago, I started a book blog – Bobbi’s Book Nook – and would post reviews of the books I read. It is unbelievable the number of book review blogs there are on the Internet. I was shocked; I had no idea there were so many. Even though the blog was for my personal use – mainly to help me keep track of the books I had read – I soon realized I enjoyed writing books reviews. Now I have a book review column “Kentucky Monthly Magazine” and for “GoodReads.”<br /><br />With the opening of the brand-new Mercer County Public Library, I feel like a little kid again. No longer creeping across creaky wooden floors, but browsing almost 10,000 square feet of books and magazine. Some people may think enlarging the library was a waste of time and money, but for avid readers like myself, it is a treasure to the versatility of our community.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15334812243182354729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137909661947647752.post-82354882379917911772010-10-08T22:43:00.004-04:002011-08-02T08:58:44.890-04:00Hallowed and Hushed<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizHyV_Xw57sCIzTP1W7dlJ35hNEf6r5FFfFGkKMA_-jNgsutNFp-at0FzA6jpJT0B3LOjoX4kI5CbZo9qmB_3I-cikENE_sm5zxjAl9cqtfBUMSvnTrr_HDAXGgroc16E0CbiGvZWqMNSM/s1600/300_22035.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 221px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizHyV_Xw57sCIzTP1W7dlJ35hNEf6r5FFfFGkKMA_-jNgsutNFp-at0FzA6jpJT0B3LOjoX4kI5CbZo9qmB_3I-cikENE_sm5zxjAl9cqtfBUMSvnTrr_HDAXGgroc16E0CbiGvZWqMNSM/s320/300_22035.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636242239115851490" /></a><br /><em>Unknown. Hallowed and Hushed be the place of the dead. Step Softly. Bow Head.</em><br /><br />Living in Harrodsburg my entire life, I have a sentimental attachment to Youngs Park, located on Linden Avenue, between the Mercer County Fairgrounds and James B. Haggin Memorial Hospital. I have so many memories of playing in the park, eating picnic lunches and attending family functions. My Granny Devine lived within walking distance of the park and I’ve walked the short block from her home so many times, I could walk it blindfolded.<br /><br />Youngs Park has always been one of my favorite places to escape to when looking for a nice, quiet lunch. Many times I have driven behind the park to the lower picnic tables and enjoyed a sandwich while watching the antics of the squirrels. The squirrels have become so used to human contact, they will sit within easy reach of picnic tables or cars, eagerly waiting for a scrap of bread or a French fry to be thrown their way.<br /> <br />Many of my fondest memories of Youngs Park occurred during my Girl Scout years and our annual summer Day Camp. One week of each summer was dedicated to numerous scouting projects with a different theme for each day. I can remember tie-dying T-shirts, painting pictures, cooking over a campfire, learning how to mark trails, just to name a few activities. During the summer of 1971, our favorite song to sing – and we sang it at the tops of our voices – was Three Dog Night’s “Jeremiah Was a Bullfrog.” We thought we were so cool.<br />The highlight of the Day Camp would be the sleepover on Friday night. For the sleepover, the Boy Scouts would come and help us set up tents in the back portion of the park. Camping out was exciting and we looked forward to it every year. Campfires, homemade stews, and s’mores were all on the list of activities.<br /> <br />Another eager awaited tradition for the sleepover was the telling of ghost stories. Because most of the Girl Scouts ranged in age from 8 to 14, we were all susceptible to having the beegeezus scared out of us! And Youngs Park was the perfect backdrop for these scary stories because of the legend of the “girl who danced herself to death.”<br /> <br />I’ve heard the story all my life – an unknown young girl arrived at the long-gone Graham Springs Hotel and attended a lavish ball where she danced all night. She eventually danced herself to death, collapsing onto the ballroom floor at the feet of her partner. She was buried in an unknown grave on the Graham Springs property. It is only as I’ve gotten older that I’ve had the desire to check more into this legend.<br /><br />Historic Graham Springs was located in the area of the current Physician’s Park and Haggin Hospital and was on the site of a natural spring. There were numerous springs in the Harrodsburg area and they were reported to have healing and restorative properties. <br /><br />This Spring, that would eventually be called Graham Springs, was turned into a spa as early as 1807. In 1827, Dr. Christopher C. Graham purchased the Springs and in 1842 constructed the main hotel, Graham Springs Hotel. The hotel was a brick four-story building which Graham said would hold one thousand people. <br /><br />Graham charged a fee of $20 per month to stay at the Springs and “take the waters.” Not only did guests enjoy and benefit from healing waters, they also joined in a lively social season which lasted from June until September. Balls and other entertainment occupied the guests while they drank the mineral waters. Graham claimed the waters helped to alleviate the aches and pains of people who suffered from such aliments as gout, rheumatism, dropsy, neuralgia, and “Autumnal fevers.”<br /><br />Often called the “Saratoga of the West,” Graham Springs flourished until 1853, when it was sold to the United States Government for use as a military asylum for aged and invalid soldiers. Fire later destroyed main buildings and the place fell into disuse. <br /><br />Sometime between 1842 and 1853, legend says a beautiful young lady appeared at the Springs. No one knew who she was, but it is rumored she came from “down South.” When arriving at the Springs, she signed the guest register with a fictitious name. After her dancing death, she became known as the “unknown lady,” although most people from Mercer County still refer to her as “the lady who danced herself to death.” <br /><br />After her death and burial at the Springs, a mon-ument honoring her was erected. Currently, the tomb is located between the road and the shelter house, with a sign bearing the words:<blockquote><em>Unknown<br />Hallowed and<br />Hushed be the<br />place of the dead.<br />Step Softly.<br />Bow Head.</em></blockquote>As I child, I thought I saw the ghost of this mysterious lady on numerous occasions, but as I’ve grown older, I realize it was probably mass hysteria brought on by ghost stories around the campfire. Although, there was one night in 2004, as I was leaving work at the Haggin Hospital at three o’clock in the morning, I would swear I saw a woman dancing through the park. She appeared to be dressed in white and was walking near one of the large oak trees in the middle of the park. Thinking back, it was probably exhaustion or my mind playing tricks on me. But then again …<br /><br /><br /><br />Added note: As recently as 2002, an article appeared in the Mercer’s Magazine claiming to have finally learned the identity of this unknown woman. This article can be read in its entirety at: http://www.angelfire.com/tn3/masterdetective2/Old_Mystery1.pdf.<br /><br />Acknowledgement: I would like to thank my brother-in-law, Don Rightmyer, from the Kentucky Historical Society for helping me find information on Graham Springs.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15334812243182354729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137909661947647752.post-76296926512292765532010-09-03T22:39:00.000-04:002010-09-03T22:39:00.615-04:00My Favorite CatsI have always been a cat person. Don’t get me wrong, I love dogs, too, but cats are my favorite pets of all. I’ve had many cats over the years, but my first cat will always hold a special place in my heart. <br /><br />When I was seven years old, my parents allowed us to have an indoor cat. I’m not sure where the little kitten came from, but she instantly became a part of our family. She was a solid white Persian cat with faint black markings on top of her head. This little bundle of white fluff was so cute and my siblings and I argued over what to name her. They wanted cutesy names like Snowball or Fluffy; I wanted something unusual. Because of the black markings on top of her head were in the shape of the letter V, I convinced my siblings the name Vee Vee was appropriate for our beloved cat. And Vee Vee she would be all through my childhood. <br /><br />For those of you who have cats, you know a cat chooses her person, not the other way around. Vee Vee tolerated everyone in our family, but she loved me. She would sleep at the foot of my bed or lay on my stomach whenever I was reading. <br />She loved to sit on the divider between the living room and the hallway – a little half wall with spindles. She would sit very still and then swat at people with her paw, as they would walk down the hall. <br /><br />Or she would hide in a corner and jump out at your ankles whenever you passed by. <br />Vee Vee was especially bad at Christmas time when she would try and climb the Christmas tree. In the early 1970s, most ornaments were glass and we lost quite a few ornaments because of her adventures with the tree. <br /><br />By the time I was married, Vee Vee was over 10 years old and becoming slow with her old age. My brother and sister wanted a dog for a pet because Vee Vee was no longer fun to play with. I was unable to take Vee Vee with me and she was too pampered and set in her ways to start being an outdoor cat. So, Vee Vee went to live with a family friend for the remainder of her life, and she lived to the grand old age of 17. Although I’ve had many cats since that time, Vee Vee was the first and I will always remember her fondly. Rest in peace Vee Vee - 1969 – 1986.<br /><br />Sassy, Queen of Sheba, came into our lives when I was going through a rough patch in my life. Pogo our beloved Siamese cat (she deserves a story all to herself) had been gone for almost six months and although we thought about getting another cat, we had not done anything about it yet. With my 39th birthday fast approaching, Keith decided this was the perfect time to find a new cat.<br /><br />We first went to the Mercer County Humane Society and there were some really cute cats and kittens, but none of them seemed right. We left the shelter slightly bummed out, but still determined to find the right cat, so we headed to the Boyle County Humane Society to see what selection they had.<br /><br />As soon as we entered the “cat room,” I saw her – the perfect cat for me. She looked so much like Pogo it was eerie, almost like Pogo come back to life. A gray Siamese with blue eyes and a raccoon striped tail, only she was skin and bones, not fat and fluffy like my Pogo. But as soon as this little cat stuck her paw between the cage bars, I was in love.<br /><br />We were told she was found wandering the grounds of the Pioneer Playhouse and they weren't sure how old she was. When she had her adoption “operation,” the vet thought she was maybe five years old.<br /><br />We brought Sassy home and within a few weeks, she was pudgy and perky and full of life. We got her a silver rhinestone collar because she was the Queen of Sheba after all, and she soon was the rule of the roost.<br /><br />Although she loved my hubby the best, Sassy always knew she could come to me for a snackie-poo. She loved bits of cheese and the occasional potato chip, in addition to Arby's roast beef and popcorn. At times, she was really obnoxious if I tried to eat in front of the television, swatting my hand and trying to grab a bite.<br /><br />We lost Sassy sooner than we would have like – she was only with us for seven years. We've had several cats since the loss of Pogo and then Sassy, but nothing will ever compare to my Siamese beauties. Rest in peace Sassy - 2001 – 2008.<br /><br />We had a house fire last August and we lost our three house cats, so we have not been ready to bring another cat into the house. We seem to have many feral cats in our neighborhood and I have no idea where they come from. Christine does feed them, so they seem to stick around and I know we had a litter born this summer, because we could hear the tiny meows. I think it may be time to call the Mercer County Humane Society and have them trap these cats for the “Critters without Litters” program. I don’t mind having feral cats in the neighborhood because they keep the mice and vole population under control, but I don’t want the cats to multiple.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15334812243182354729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137909661947647752.post-56826391578194652822010-08-06T09:39:00.000-04:002010-08-10T10:18:37.321-04:00Dog Days and College Days<strong>Dog Days and College Days<br />By Bobbi Rightmyer</strong><br /><br />The dog days of summer have finally hit home and the heat and humidity that Kentucky is famous for is blazing forth in all her glory. Temperatures above 90 degrees, weeks and weeks without rain, and the sticky air that threatens for strangle the life from every living thing. I do not like heat. Just the least bit of heat is enough to raise my internal temperature to the boiling point. I like to be cool, or at least have some type of breeze to keep me comfortable. These days, I fell like someone is trying to smother me with a hot towel; my breath comes in labored gasps.<br /><br /><br /><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSBGhocWCS_ltNRWLIMAZNzZzkS16qC2F6T6c3S4XzNonM6w3H8KbK-sXIMCcIalBXHEzNqyW1NrSWKvpgATZJRwZYYXaCt9h06J_9vP0oTZ-5RpH6Wuo8yIeYSX8BOJFlYoRb0VGIi5NJ/s1600/_dog.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503784193393001554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSBGhocWCS_ltNRWLIMAZNzZzkS16qC2F6T6c3S4XzNonM6w3H8KbK-sXIMCcIalBXHEzNqyW1NrSWKvpgATZJRwZYYXaCt9h06J_9vP0oTZ-5RpH6Wuo8yIeYSX8BOJFlYoRb0VGIi5NJ/s400/_dog.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">Dog Days of Summer (copyright Google Images)</span> </p><p><br /><br />The hot, dry weather has turned most grass lawns brown and crinkly, but it will quickly revive itself when the first rains come. I really hate to see people watering their lawns in the summer, wasting the one natural resource we are destined to lose in the next century. I do keep my tomato plants and a few flowers watered, but I use “gray” water to do this instead of fresh water from the tap or faucet.<br /><br /></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifEJwJkc5Se4eIDnhuCvH6xcFqCBtMHDEmaDjSQnuVKq2KxNgeXwunZEHJvfOscu6rfdRVt3y0U7K1ONIaKHgIiiq_NK1WbdrfCEPZOnmL0-jldZ6wtg2mZeRpaUWc4YE3a3yS9ZV7yJy0/s1600/small_Plantago%20lanceolata.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503782335739367010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 250px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 302px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifEJwJkc5Se4eIDnhuCvH6xcFqCBtMHDEmaDjSQnuVKq2KxNgeXwunZEHJvfOscu6rfdRVt3y0U7K1ONIaKHgIiiq_NK1WbdrfCEPZOnmL0-jldZ6wtg2mZeRpaUWc4YE3a3yS9ZV7yJy0/s400/small_Plantago%2520lanceolata.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">English Plantain (copyright bdr)</span> </p><p><br /><br />Right now I have loads of English plantain flowers that I have been picking to dry for filling the bird feeders this winter. I have also been using the plantain leaves and flowers in my plantain salve – this is great for misquotes bits and for burnt fingers from cooking. It also helps to sooth and heals sunburns. I have continued cutting and drying several different grasses to add to the bird feeders in a determination to see which type of grass my birds like better, plus. The sunflowers have been slow to start due to the heat, and I may have to use grasses in my bird feeders this winter.<br /><br /></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRVkHFHI9_8N_R49eNncolFjaWflNTQVDukCimnuOp0HtlxS-oAvsVcWeyQ1STr8mlsjXZhOzEsm1KbKRRagEn8Vrkwy7JB5fgzMG9PzE7_Gx_MiOHKnUP9morusirR4OIKLZoYM8o0SuA/s1600/090714084959QueenAnnesLace1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503782074239809154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 384px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 370px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRVkHFHI9_8N_R49eNncolFjaWflNTQVDukCimnuOp0HtlxS-oAvsVcWeyQ1STr8mlsjXZhOzEsm1KbKRRagEn8Vrkwy7JB5fgzMG9PzE7_Gx_MiOHKnUP9morusirR4OIKLZoYM8o0SuA/s400/090714084959QueenAnnesLace1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">Queen Anne's Lace (copyright bdr)</span></p><p><br />The Queen Anne’s lace and chicory blossoms are so beautiful growing along the side of the roads and in the medians, so I’m trying to enjoy them before the county comes to mow. To me, there is noting more beautiful than the white lacy flowers of Queen Anne’s Laces hover above the delicate blooms of the purple chicory. They are like God’s gift to our little section of the world.<br /><br /></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggQkVjIJcyjEtpAK27Gl4sxktZVL8phKvSzpwotFDF6qPXlVl0q9QyyfmoD35VX_CatgXUxpALD73CraCxBUHAVreWDuSegSi_-CBPW7LJJbF8M5MMq6OnvldJHPaeYw6TXeLzXR56KTCV/s1600/_chicory.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503782735869953122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 301px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggQkVjIJcyjEtpAK27Gl4sxktZVL8phKvSzpwotFDF6qPXlVl0q9QyyfmoD35VX_CatgXUxpALD73CraCxBUHAVreWDuSegSi_-CBPW7LJJbF8M5MMq6OnvldJHPaeYw6TXeLzXR56KTCV/s400/_chicory.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">Chicory (copyright bdr)</span> </p><p><br /><br />Summer is a time for easy to cook meals or for firing up the backyard grill in order to keep the kitchen cool. You can through almost anything on a grill to make it taste better. Some of my favorites are corn on the cob, grilled while still in the husk; zucchini and other squashes; onions and peppers; as well as any type of meat you might enjoy. Chicken and fish are our two favorite meats to cook on a grill.<br /><br />Currently, the Farmer’s Market is full of many types of healthy lettuces along with all the vegetables you need to make a wonderful salad. Romaine, Bibb, Watercress, kale, spinach, and even dandelion leaves—these all make wonderful salad starters. Just add onions, carrots, tomatoes, squash, cucumber—whatever you have growing, or quick on hand—and sprinkle with your favorite dressing and you have the perfect “house” salad. Add that half piece of leftover chicken, or extra strip of bacon, or can of tuna or salmon and you turn the house salad into the main entrée; and it is so healthy for you.<br /><br />One of my favorite pastimes is watching a pair of Red-tailed Hawks soaring over the fields near our home. They apparently live in an old tree near the back of our property because we can occasionally here baby birds crying from the next. Red-tailed Hawks are beautiful birds to watch as they float high above the trees, gliding gracefully through the air.<br /><br /></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFk5YZOUP6L44hJGcbrmEEuQEhA4RY8vRGKFcvNxhCQCrG_1TjE175GVvP-OqaZF0dqdpn0YEdlJb60Qnm34CXt9cxCeIXjF74hQIEgZSDs0PlSnqGPa-XgbVuWwcmkxrNzRoZ_HUAI-wt/s1600/red_tail_hawk.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503783286009555730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFk5YZOUP6L44hJGcbrmEEuQEhA4RY8vRGKFcvNxhCQCrG_1TjE175GVvP-OqaZF0dqdpn0YEdlJb60Qnm34CXt9cxCeIXjF74hQIEgZSDs0PlSnqGPa-XgbVuWwcmkxrNzRoZ_HUAI-wt/s400/red_tail_hawk.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">Red-tailed hawk catching a snake for supper (copyright Google Images)</span> </p><p><br /><br />Mammals make up the majority of the Hawks diet, including voles, rats, mice, rabbits, squirrels and snakes. Many times you can see a mouse or a snake grasped firmly in their razor sharp talons, helping to keep down the varmint population. They will also eat other birds: starlings, blackbirds, bobwhites and pheasants. Personally, they can have all the starlings they want.<br /><br /></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIzvhhj7GtEfvblI3omJO2_xSTO9teXYTBa656tCenf-PwKyZcAUj4MFJvuqRbImdZBVJkgr6FtvXiQxZhyphenhyphentC3TVEJSmJO3OMyBNFIIZ76mD1SEpG9bA-X31sbmtYzRxQR9nLc92Wdu2TP/s1600/Funny+Faces.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503781852403926402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIzvhhj7GtEfvblI3omJO2_xSTO9teXYTBa656tCenf-PwKyZcAUj4MFJvuqRbImdZBVJkgr6FtvXiQxZhyphenhyphentC3TVEJSmJO3OMyBNFIIZ76mD1SEpG9bA-X31sbmtYzRxQR9nLc92Wdu2TP/s400/Funny+Faces.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">Christine and Hubby making "funny faces" at high school graducation (copyright bdr)</span></p><p><br />I guess the reason I’m rambling on about the dog days of summer is because I’m trying to keep my mind off the fact my baby will be leaving me at the end of the month. Christine will be moving to Berea the last full week of August and I’m trying – without success – not to think about it. I realize she will only be less than 90 minutes away, but with very few exceptions, we have never been apart for so long. Granted, she will be coming home some weekends, but I am going to miss our daily talks and all the sarcastic remarks she makes to me – only in jest. My grandbabies and great niece will help to fill the void, but it won’t take the place of seeing Christine’s smiling face every day.<br /><br /></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZUcHy_ukOGMvIxKaQiTTYuzw3n0EZn9SHEO1nRQ_nYtNfCEoDGR9LxOCjnMR9kQ88HOxEDVS7k5z6vkkkTIhgaKpeVF3iL-bx7dEQ160p_TrlOvHLcmQxnl583q4vLixx_QiAJkJgcHj1/s1600/itsy+bitsy+spider.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503781508933447586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZUcHy_ukOGMvIxKaQiTTYuzw3n0EZn9SHEO1nRQ_nYtNfCEoDGR9LxOCjnMR9kQ88HOxEDVS7k5z6vkkkTIhgaKpeVF3iL-bx7dEQ160p_TrlOvHLcmQxnl583q4vLixx_QiAJkJgcHj1/s400/itsy+bitsy+spider.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">My little Tadpole doing "Itsy-Bitsy Spider" (copyright bdr) - 4 weeks old</span></p><p><br /><br />So, get outside and enjoy the dog days of summer. Relish the bright sunshine and beautiful flowers all around you, chase a few lightning bugs and spray each one with a water hose. The days are already beginning to slow down and night is creeping earlier and earlier into our days. Old man winter will soon be knocking at our doors.<br /><br /></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15334812243182354729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137909661947647752.post-78159116577604295762010-06-24T09:53:00.001-04:002010-07-07T10:00:01.152-04:00What Can We Say?This is a poem in memory of my mother<br />Brenda Carolyn Devine Sallee<br />November 6, 1944 – May 23, 2010<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaM2kmsPZ6dCb_bGTK9ah78SWNpwED6ilFqRPB7ty59zGB7iAI3VViLJitCoy7k57yF7Nk8JaKHGV7sm1rgzcT6N7wToKlE0owksML13pU-z-LpIYzdVHSYn5wjTWopvdl9mEKfS8Xgedd/s1600/sky.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491163472237731090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 291px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaM2kmsPZ6dCb_bGTK9ah78SWNpwED6ilFqRPB7ty59zGB7iAI3VViLJitCoy7k57yF7Nk8JaKHGV7sm1rgzcT6N7wToKlE0owksML13pU-z-LpIYzdVHSYn5wjTWopvdl9mEKfS8Xgedd/s400/sky.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">What Can We Say<br /></span></strong><br />We learned about love from you, Momma,<br />by watching your caring ways.<br />You let us know your endless love<br />in so many different ways.<br /><br />We learned all we know about living<br />because you always gave life your all.<br />Your unfailing love was without limit,<br />as was your ability to soothe our hurts.<br /><br />We learned about joy from you<br />in many fun-filled yesterdays.<br />You made us feel important<br />with endless encouragement and praise.<br /><br />From you we learned forgiveness,<br />of faults both big and small.<br />With open arms and open heart,<br />you were gentle and yet so strong.<br /><br />From you we learned to comfort and care,<br />but your lessons stopped not with family.<br />You loved your patients and loved your friends<br />and never said "No" to any calls for help.<br /><br />Momma, we look at you and see a walking miracle;<br />you were our teacher and our comforter,<br />our cheerleader and our rock.<br />Your unselfishness kept us anchored,<br />every hour of every day.<br />You were dependable and full of comfort,<br />our cushion when we'd fall.<br /><br />You helped in times of trouble,<br />though we sometimes caused you pain;<br />it mattered not what we did,<br />you supported us all the same.<br /><br />How did you find the energy, Momma,<br />to do all the things you did;<br />to be teacher, nurse and counselor,<br />and full of inexhaustible love?<br /><br />Nobody's quite like you, Momma;<br />you were special in every way.<br />You cheered us up, you filled our cups<br />with tenderness, come what may.<br /><br />Nobody loved us more than you,<br />no matter what we did;<br />good or bad, happy or sad,<br />you were full of unconditional love.<br /><br />Nobody's equal to you, Momma,<br />you truly blessed our lives.<br />We love you so and want you to know,<br />you were the absolute best.<br /><br />We know we were all in your thoughts,<br />your love followed us everyday.<br />Thank you for all you've done<br />and given so generously.<br /><br />We love you, our wonderful Momma,<br />you will be our blessing from above.<br />You set us free and steered us straight.<br />We'll miss you come what may.<br />The examples you have shown us<br />and the lessons we have learned<br />will remain in all our hearts<br />until we see you again one day.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15334812243182354729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137909661947647752.post-14349216137649800952010-05-06T10:39:00.001-04:002011-05-17T13:21:18.676-04:00The Memories of MayWhere has the year gone? Just yesterday we were celebrating the holidays and now I’m planning for my daughter’s graduation from high school. My Granny Devine always did say time speeded up as you got older, and now I’m seeing this is so true.<br /><br />While I’m not a hot weather, summer person, I am glad to finally leave the cold days of winter behind. Too many days of sub-zero weather has made my joints ache and creak, so I’m ready for a change. Warmer weather means more time in the garden, more time to walk and more time to soak up the daylight. The month of May is the perfect time to shed our winter skins and slip into the latest summer fashions. After months of cabin fever and overwhelming darkness, you feel an almost rebirth at the excess of sunshine and warmth.<br /><br />May has always been a transition month for my family. We are transitioning from the long winter and spring into the warmth of summer and from school to summer break. We are transitioning from slow time, early darkness and structured schedules to fast time, later sunsets and relaxed casualness. We say goodbye to prime-time television, large pots of chili and blue jeans with sneakers and say hello to drive-in movies, salad from the Farmer's Market and shorts with flip flops. This year, May is bringing some major milestones to my family and signs of change are everywhere.<br /><br />As I mentioned earlier, Christine will be graduating from Mercer County Senior High this month and it’s a happy and sad event, all rolled up into one. Where has the time gone? My household is growing smaller and smaller every minute and it's a shock to the system. While I am extremely proud of Christine's accomplishments, it is going to be so sad when she is gone.<br />I cannot believe I will no longer have any children in the local school system. Christine has been offered a full four-year scholarship to Berea College and she is excited to get started on her college career. As we wade through paper work and make lists of everything she will need to take with her, my heart is feeling a little sad. She will be moving to Berea in August and I realize this is only a short distance away, but it is going to be strange to not have her close to me. What am I supposed to do without a child in the house?<br /><br />I am so incredibly proud of all three of my daughters – I could not have asked for three better girls if I had tried to order them from a catalog. They are all intelligent and responsible adults and they fill my life with joy. Next month, we will be adding a new granddaughter to our family, so we will have another girl to dote on and spoil rotten. Devon Mikayla is already a special girl and she will have us all wrapped right around her little finger.<br /><br />May 19th is a special day for Keith and I – it will be our 20th wedding anniversary. We have been together for 24 years and are happy to be celebrating such a great milestone. Like most couples, we have had our ups and downs, our sicknesses and health, our richer and poorer, but we have created a unique family with strong ties and our bond is even stronger today than it was 20 years ago. We have raised three beautiful, intelligent daughters and they are our pride and joy and we are both looking forward to spoiling the grandchildren. We may not have done everything right, but we keep plugging away and try to keep everyone happy and on an even keel.<br /><br />Of course, May also brings us Mother’s Day, and although I only think of myself as an average mom, I am blessed with two extraordinary mothers. My mother, Brenda Sallee, has always been there to encourage me and keep me on the straight and narrow. She is a special lady and I can never thank her enough for everything she has done for me. My mother-in-law, Christine Holtzclaw Rightmyer, is also a special lady and I am blessed to have her in my life. I thank God everyday that she brought Keith into my life. is also a great lady and I am so thankful she brought my hubby into my life.<br /><br />A big event my writing group – The Community of Mercer County Writers – is hosting this year will be on May 8th and we hope it will become an annual event. We are partnering with the Mercer County Humane Society to present “Prose and Poetry for Pets.” This will be on the block of Main Street near the Humane Society and The Harrodsburg Herald and will start at 11am. There will be lots of activities: pet paintings, poetry and prose readings, food vendors, pet adoptions and other animal relate activities. The Community of Mercer County Writers has published a chapbook - “Prose and Poetry for Pets” - which they will be selling for $5, with all proceeds going to the Mercer County Humane Society.<br /><br />As you can see, May is shaping up to be an exciting, memorable month. It will be a time of great joy and happiness, and I look forward to making lots of new memories. Reconnecting with family and friends should be a priority this year, so why not plan some special events with your loved ones. Time is only getting shorter, so make the most of it while you still can. Remember, memories live on forever.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15334812243182354729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137909661947647752.post-26831660195157286402010-04-02T10:44:00.000-04:002010-04-05T10:44:50.393-04:00Harrodsburg Born and Raised<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsieUNNJItB4rjCTkOwtCP6bmDIvlbEJOpCjDteW3HmHe1VN2_1sYEhqIsz5bwD5DnixWaBbuJqipK7mRLYrUstzQ5iAwos2QOdufVPDMzh9FM3rvt7ThYDRa9WLypxFQ4EwyxvAY7Axcz/s1600/Down+town.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456663852248011202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 234px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsieUNNJItB4rjCTkOwtCP6bmDIvlbEJOpCjDteW3HmHe1VN2_1sYEhqIsz5bwD5DnixWaBbuJqipK7mRLYrUstzQ5iAwos2QOdufVPDMzh9FM3rvt7ThYDRa9WLypxFQ4EwyxvAY7Axcz/s400/Down+town.jpg" border="0" /></a>Downtown Harrodsburg, Kentucky </div><br />Harrodsburg – what does it mean to you? Is this historic town just a stepping-stone in your life, or is it a life-long destination?<br /><br />I was born and have live all of my almost 48 years within the boundaries of Mercer County – all but four of these within a five-mile radius of downtown Harrodsburg. I have seen the ups and downs and many of the times in between, and my love for this town only grows with each passing year.<br /><br />When I was a child growing up in Riverview, most of my world revolved around our small neighborhood. My friends were there and we spent many hours playing together and planning our futures. The Harrodsburg City Pool was a popular spot and I spent glorious summer days splashing in the cool water and soaking up the sun. Back in the 1970s, we didn’t appreciate the dangers of long days spent in the hot sun. I was always tanned to a golden brown – “brown as a berry” as my Granny used to say. Actually, now that I’m older, I’m not sure what kind of berry is brown, and if it is, it is probably well past its peak.<br /><br />Family weekends were usually spent together and while I enjoyed camping trips and Sunday afternoons at the beach, my favorite times were spent locally. During summer nights we would pile in the car and head to Twin Hills Drive-In to watch a movie or two. I learned to lock Chuck Norris, Charles Bronson and Clint Eastwood movies, and to me, Roger Moore will always be Bond, James Bond. The good, the bad and everything between – the fun of the drive-in was being together as a family and visiting with friends in the twilight before the movies began.<br /><br />Another weekend activity was Friday and Saturday skate nights at the Mercer Roller Rink. I loved to skate, but more importantly, I liked to show off my mediocre skating skills. To this day, hearing the Jackson 5 song, “Rockin’ Robin” always makes me think of skate night at the roller rink.<br /><br />By the time I was 16, my family had moved to the, then new, Cherokee Heights neighborhood. Many of my summer and weekend nights were then spent cruising the loop between McDonalds and Mr. Kwik. Now a days, the cruising route has changed to the Diary Queen end of town, but cruising is still a Harrodsburg tradition, as it is in most small towns.<br /><br />For four months during the summer of 1981, I lived in downtown Cornishville and I loved every minute of it. I was still within the boundaries of Mercer County, but I felt like I was a million miles away from civilization. During this time, I worked at Anne’s Hallmark, so I made the trek into town at least five days a week. I enjoyed meeting and seeing the residents of Harrodsburg and being in town kept me close to the city’s heart. Weekends in the 1980s were usually spent at the home of our good friends, Sandra and Anthony Godbey, playing cards and talking all night.<br /><br />In 1987, I moved to the center of Harrodsburg and this was the first time I had ever lived “in town.” I raised Amber and Marie in a tiny four-room house as I put myself through college. It was during these tough years I came to love Harrodsburg even more. As a single mother, I depended on cheap entertainment, so we sought out all the opportunities Harrodsburg had to offer. The Picnic in the Park became a favorite place on Fridays during the summer. We would pack our lunch, pick a bouquet of flowers and walk to Old Fort Harrod. Once at the park, we would eat, enjoy the week’s entertainment and then climb on the Osage Orange tree.<br /><br />During this time in my life, we all grew to love the Grand Ole Mercer County Fair and Horseshow. Amber and Marie loved to paint, draw and make other crafts to enter in the 4-H show and Floral Hall, and I even got into the spirit by entering a few of my handmade items. When August would roll around, we couldn’t wait for Pioneer Days. The girls loved entering the Pet Show, visiting the arts and crafts booths, and watching the cloggers on Main Street. September used to bring Oktoberfest at Old Fort Harrod and the girls looked forward to the Wooly Worm Races and Osage Orange Crochet. The Night of the Great Pumpkin is the only event still ongoing in Harrodsburg and it always meant homemade costumes and decorated pumpkins. Following on the heels of Halloween would be the Holiday Gala at the Fort. The special essence of this night was seeing the hundreds of luminaries lining the park, taking candlelit tours of the cabins and stopping for hot apple cider in the museum. Christmas in Harrodsburg used to mean downtown, horse drawn carriage rides in addition to the parade.<br /><br />Since 1993, I have lived four miles from downtown. I’ve seen two daughters grow up and move on to their own lives and I have one more ready to leave the nest. Although Harrodsburg has changed dramatically over the years, it will always be home to me. I’m proud of the improvements I see every day on Main Street – with the exception of the huge “hole” where the Courthouse used to proudly stand. I’m proud of the businesses that have moved into the area to give Harrodsburg a try, but I’m sad at the historic buildings we have lost along the way.<br /><br />I don’t like to hear people complain about my town; all the complaints of “There’s nothing to do here,” made me mad. If people don’t like the lack of entertainment or shopping malls, then they should move somewhere else. I like the quiet, historic atmosphere of Harrodsburg – it is what keeps me here. I’m proud of Harrodsburg’s history, and while I also think progress can be a good thing, I think the progress in our town should be toward preservation, not expansion. After all, I’m proudly born and raised in Harrodsburg, the oldest settlement west of the Allegany Mountains.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15334812243182354729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137909661947647752.post-57477101202044339332010-03-04T10:05:00.000-05:002010-03-04T10:05:00.721-05:00Kids and DisneyLike most children, my girls grew up loving Disney movies and Disney characters. Amber loved “The Little Mermaid,” Marie loved “The Lion King,” and Christine loved and still loves “Lilo and Stitch.” Most Disney movies were fair game for everyone and our family has a group of favorites – “101 Dalmatians,” “Peter Pan,” “Dumbo,” and “Fantasia.” Although Amber and Marie loved the Disney Princesses, Christine has never been into the foo-foo characters, preferring instead to follow “Alice in Wonderland,” “Winnie the Pooh,” or “Mulan.”<br /> <br />When I was little, I enjoyed watching “The Wonderful World of Walt Disney” on Sunday nights with my family. “Swiss Family Robinson,” “Old Yeller,” “The Scarecrow,” “The Parent Trap” and “Treasure Island” were some of the many programs we watched as a family. Naturally, this was many years before the invention of VCRs or DVD players, so we popped popcorn ahead of time and had our drinks ready before the beginning of each show. Commercial breaks meant bathroom breaks and with only one bathroom, there was usually a mad scramble to see who could get to the bathroom first.<br /> <br />I didn’t get my first VCR until Marie and Amber were 3 and 5 years old, but owning a VCR didn’t mean I could afford to buy movies. We would rent movies almost every Friday night and the girl’s preferences were always Disney or other animated movies. “Pinocchio” was one of the very first Disney movies released on VHS, so it became a mutual favorite, but before long, we were renting “Rainbow Brite,” “Care Bears” and “Dr. Snuggles.”<br /> <br />By the time Christine was born, Marie and Amber were 8 and 10 years old, and we were starting to amass a large collection of VHS movies, with Disney remaining a favorite. During this phase in our family life, I was working 12-hour night shifts, so I’m ashamed to admit, my girls watched lots of movies for entertainment, mainly because I wasn’t home to supervise, but they also watched movies when I was home because I was always so busy. I can probably sing you songs or recite lines from most of their favorite movies because they were always on in the background - I may not have been watching, but I was always listening.<br /> <br />Like most families, my girls grew up and soon Disney movies were replaced with films about teen anguish, romance or horror. I found myself wishing we could leave the teenage years behind and return to the happy, carefree days of early childhood. We continued to have family movie night, but it was becoming increasingly harder to find movies we all agreed on.<br /> <br />Deterring a moment from my theme of Disney movies, my hubby and Christine have almost the same interest when it come to the make-up of a movie. Where I go to a movie purely for escapism and entertainment, they can tell you everything about a movie – the director, the producers, the main actors, the production team, when the film was released, where it was filmed, and the list goes on and on. They are like a walking encyclopedia of movies, my own personal Internet Movie Database (IMDb).<br /> <br />Fast forward to present day and 2010 is shaping up to be a memorable year for our family. Not only are we expecting our first grandbaby – a little girl due in June – but also our youngest daughter will be heading off to college. Even though Christine is finishing up her senior year and making grand plans for the fall, she is also having a resurgence of nostalgia for Disney movies. She has begun her own collection of DVDs with all her favorites; she even has a list of release dates for Disney movies so she is watching for her favorites. She has even invested in a few “stuff animals” for her room, with the newest addition being a large blue Stitch from “Lilo and Stitch.” She is looking forward to sharing her love of Disney with her new little niece.<br /> <br />I have a feeling I will be “knee-deep” in Disney movies again in a few years when my granddaughter, and future grandchildren, will discover their own love of the Disney classics. Some things just never go out of fashion, and in our family the Disney brand is firmly entrenched in our memories.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15334812243182354729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137909661947647752.post-46426314690161693492010-02-04T10:46:00.006-05:002010-02-04T10:59:14.622-05:00Dead Skunk in the Middle of the Road<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwwoYqIBOQF3d6szjf1fCjvtovzAokqWsc8yiPa01AkXaHpWbArAZ9V6HwU4AJBbT7DLBTTvdqyF2g3jaDDzwnsgRM5j-dXzFJ_aCPyCR60UGLR3QOxOX5CixWvwMdtl5xhLq7Etok6M8w/s1600-h/skunk_babies.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwwoYqIBOQF3d6szjf1fCjvtovzAokqWsc8yiPa01AkXaHpWbArAZ9V6HwU4AJBbT7DLBTTvdqyF2g3jaDDzwnsgRM5j-dXzFJ_aCPyCR60UGLR3QOxOX5CixWvwMdtl5xhLq7Etok6M8w/s400/skunk_babies.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434416740386403314" /></a><br /><br />Ah, after a long cold winter, spring is finally in the air. All around us is the sweet, aromatic fragrance of ... skunk. Yep, that's right, it's skunk mating season again! This is the time of year when skunks seem to come out of the wood works and they end up ... splatted on the side of the road.<br /> <br />I swear, I drive less than five miles into town to go to work, and there were at least 8 dead skunks along the way. Some of them were on the sides of the road, some in the middle of the road. All those dead skunks makes me think of the old 70s song, *"Dead Skunk in the Middle of the Road" by Loudon Wainwright.<blockquote><em>"Crossin' the highway late last night<br />He shoulda looked left and he shoulda looked right<br />He didn't see the station wagon car<br />The skunk got squashed and there you are!<br />You got yer<br />Dead skunk in the middle of the road<br />Dead skunk in the middle of the road<br />You got yer dead skunk in the middle of the road<br />Stinkin' to high Heaven!"</em></blockquote>Skunks are mammals best known for their ability to secrete a liquid with a strong, foul-smelling odor. Also known as "polecats" in many regions, skunks are actually a form of weasel known as Carnivora. Naturally, the word Carnivora refers to any meat-eating mammal, but skunks not only eat meat, they also eat many forms of plants, changing their diet with the seasons. It is the skunk's omnivorous diet that leads them to garbage cans in many urban areas. They have also been known to enter garages and out-buildings, especially of people who own pets because skunks have developed a taste for cat and dog food. They also like to lounge under porches, away from prying eyes.<br /> <br />A few years ago, Christine and I decided to take a paper route during the summer and although we delivered papers every afternoon, Monday through Friday, we also had to deliver at 3am on Sunday mornings. On these early morning deliveries, my wonderful hubby usually went with us. Of course, out in the county we saw all kinds of wildlife, but one of our routes was in the heart of Harrodsburg and we were privy to all kinds of nocturnal life roaming the city streets. I swear, there was one skunk that was in the same yard week after week after week – it must have been his home territory.<br /> <br />Skunks must be creatures of habit because we usually knew exactly where the skunks would be. They had a tendency to be in the same areas every Sunday morning and these were the homes we always used a flashlight to light the sidewalks. Once you've been startled by a skunk standing two feet in front, you learn to be careful about where you step.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-VZjiAFzw_JxWgaA5uye-6WA7DlyY8S2o-dEEwvMVq4ClDswY6UQKRSHRZx-3mt_0JZIGlaUBcnFv-ylfCKlycdQgRvLI8UdMd4utNKVhkJ4s2hLHPrkh9RWtiv_Sm8cFMQrMixjKqGwk/s1600-h/skunks.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 257px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-VZjiAFzw_JxWgaA5uye-6WA7DlyY8S2o-dEEwvMVq4ClDswY6UQKRSHRZx-3mt_0JZIGlaUBcnFv-ylfCKlycdQgRvLI8UdMd4utNKVhkJ4s2hLHPrkh9RWtiv_Sm8cFMQrMixjKqGwk/s400/skunks.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434417964867403202" /></a><br /> <br />Considering the number of dead skunks that line highways and roads during mating season, you would think skunks run in packs, but skunks are solitary creatures during the warm months of the year. During colder winter months, they will also seek shelter in the crawl spaces of homes or under porches close to a house's foundation. They will dig burrows for dens, or occasionally inhabit man-made or natural hallows. <br /> <br />Most people think skunks hibernate during the winter, but they are not true hibernators. They go through long dormant periods, but venture out every few weeks to find food. Female skunks may "den up" together for warmth, but males prefer to den alone. Mating season usually begins in late January and ramps into high gear by the middle of February.<br /> <br />Skunks range in appearance from species to species - some are black-and-white and some are brown or cream colored. Although they have an extraordinary sense of smell and hearing, they have very poor eyesight. This may account for the number of dead skunks on the roadways - the poor little things can see the huge motor vehicles coming. Skunks also have an extremely short life span, with very few living over three years.<blockquote><em>"Take a whiff on me, that ain't no rose!<br />Roll up yer window and hold yer nose<br />You don't have to look and you don't have to see<br />'Cause you can feel it in your olfactory"</em></blockquote>Anyone who has ever had a run in with a skunk will know that the most notorious feature of skunks is their anal scent glands, which they use as a defensive weapon. These glands produce a mixture of sulfur-containing chemicals which give off a highly offensive "rotten egg" smell. They can spray up to 15 feet away and the odor of the fluid is strong enough to ward off bears and other potential attackers and can be very hard to remove from clothing<blockquote><em>"Yeah you got yer dead cat and you got yer dead dog<br />On a moonlight night you got yer dead toad frog <br />Got yer dead rabbit and yer dead raccoon<br />The blood and the guts they're gonna make you swoon!<br />Dead skunk in the middle of the road<br />Stinkin' to high heaven!<br />All over the road, Technicolor man!<br />Oh, you got pollution<br />It's dead, it's in the middle<br />And it's stinkin' to high, high Heaven."</em></blockquote><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6p5ttWlBET_nHPTSDhNbd2n9-CfTZ_lWBy35-01wmZB5kBwXTT8pVeeTFU9g1CpMoLky2Rby68Yb-0jyG-f8A0iX69dhg2SzEPoznj4Xsszw-KCcigXuohUTLMs-paP6N5k7E6KuyyHc1/s1600-h/pepe.bmp"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 288px; height: 295px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6p5ttWlBET_nHPTSDhNbd2n9-CfTZ_lWBy35-01wmZB5kBwXTT8pVeeTFU9g1CpMoLky2Rby68Yb-0jyG-f8A0iX69dhg2SzEPoznj4Xsszw-KCcigXuohUTLMs-paP6N5k7E6KuyyHc1/s400/pepe.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434416580599091266" /></a>So, when you're driving down a country lane on a warm spring night and are overcome with an intense feeling of nausea, chances are it's the overwhelming scent of "od 'de skunk" wafting through the air. Ah, springtime in Kentucky ...<br /><br /><em>*“Dead Skunk in the Middle of the Road” lyrics copyright Loudon Snowden Wainwright III from “Album III,” produced by Thomas Jefferson Kaye for Columbia Records.</em>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15334812243182354729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137909661947647752.post-4086013283316849112010-01-07T16:04:00.001-05:002010-01-07T20:39:21.887-05:00A New Decade is Dawning<div align="left">Another year is here – where did the time go? 2010 is gearing up to be a great year, but it is also the ending of another phase in my life.<br /><br />For the past 27 years, I’ve had at least one child at home. From infant care, toddler days, preschool adventures and after school activities, Mom’s taxi service has hauled kids from one event to the next and I’ve enjoyed every minute of it. But 2010 will see my youngest child leave home to begin her college years, and I’m going to be left with an empty next. What am I supposed to do? How do you change a lifestyle you’ve had for 27 years?<br /><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNgWRemQcojssj96BuRxjAmPTUCjDUq3U9bHwbuFZ3Ey6glBNrhM8Fj11EOl0wdp5TQ2UZUfVm6Z7Rt547htBJ8GnbLrTswPwt58nNFJgJI-_4rPyH8A-lvUnkj-pgotdqnJaxtQqvKwdH/s1600-h/Amber+and+Jason+030.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424174224543682498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 312px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNgWRemQcojssj96BuRxjAmPTUCjDUq3U9bHwbuFZ3Ey6glBNrhM8Fj11EOl0wdp5TQ2UZUfVm6Z7Rt547htBJ8GnbLrTswPwt58nNFJgJI-_4rPyH8A-lvUnkj-pgotdqnJaxtQqvKwdH/s400/Amber+and+Jason+030.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"></a><span style="font-size:78%;">The Rightmyer family circa 1999 - Marie, Christine, Amber, Bobbi and Keith</span></p><span style="font-size:78%;"><p align="left"><br /></span><br />I already miss the days I used to volunteer at school. I always made time to help out several days a month when my girls were in elementary school. I’ve helped with Girl Scouts, band, choir, dance, soccer and academic practice as well as multiple church activities. When the girls got too old to want me at school, I found other ways to volunteer to show them the joy of giving your time to help others.<br /><br />At least my girls have left me a little at a time – this has helped my adjustment period somewhat, but it doesn’t take the pain away entirely. Marie was the first to leave and it nearly killed me when she moved out, but I realized I was going to have to let her go eventually. Two years later, Amber was gone and the pain was just as acute, but I knew I would survive.<br /><br /></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZCaRgQzk12QUiIXSY-619ayn-0BQlGyTJoypfkH0zrChZ850M1ptjmF5zdE84awAIBGkLzS6LVuJ_TtT_ctxbY-G1tSwXGcyE0swzsqwQXNJIdqK3XoNMlr9eHPJb5EOc08CZNEOkUHQC/s1600-h/Amber+and+Jason+028.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424174647486323906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 336px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZCaRgQzk12QUiIXSY-619ayn-0BQlGyTJoypfkH0zrChZ850M1ptjmF5zdE84awAIBGkLzS6LVuJ_TtT_ctxbY-G1tSwXGcyE0swzsqwQXNJIdqK3XoNMlr9eHPJb5EOc08CZNEOkUHQC/s400/Amber+and+Jason+028.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:78%;">Christine, Marie and Amber - circa 1999</span></p><p><br /><br />For the past 8 years, Christine has been my only child at home and we have grown very close. She sometimes complains she feels like an only child because there is such a large age difference between her and her sisters. Of all my children, Christine and I are most alike. We both enjoy reading and many times we will spend an afternoon reading, even though we are reading separate books. Or we have been known to brain storm ideas for writing projects, bouncing ideas off one another to see what we think might work for a story. We both enjoy volunteer work and Christine has been a big help to mean with many of the tasks I’ve taken on.<br /><br />Of course, Christine has inherited the “worry gene” from me; she worries about everything, just like I do. She is more concerned about keeping everyone else happy than she is doing things for herself. She is a true friend and someone you can count on when the times are hard. I really wish she wouldn’t worry so much – I want her to enjoy her happy teenage years while they’re here. But just like I know I can’t stop myself from worrying, I can’t keep her from worrying either.<br /><br />Looking forward into 2010, there are many things I am actually looking forward to. First and foremost is the fact that I will be a grandmother for the first time. I am so excited and I can’t wait to hold this little bundle of joy in my arms. My middle daughter, Marie, is expected in June and we are all eagerly awaiting this newest addition to the family.<br /><br /></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOdLR-DCKtroB1TflfY5bees103L6DnoiQrYqCUFJZbOVTwENVnKUJH6EhRUqN30gd4faJaiyqb3p-AQSdWI9iSBhMtGiswHsgVJ5E1t_Q-Uzlsrdk0sMcExfTTR7YUfiQt34AVs9xbywb/s1600-h/tadpole.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424175811159654258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOdLR-DCKtroB1TflfY5bees103L6DnoiQrYqCUFJZbOVTwENVnKUJH6EhRUqN30gd4faJaiyqb3p-AQSdWI9iSBhMtGiswHsgVJ5E1t_Q-Uzlsrdk0sMcExfTTR7YUfiQt34AVs9xbywb/s400/tadpole.bmp" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"> My first grandchild, the Tadpole - 12 weeks gestation, due June 2010</span></p><p><br /><br />This will also be the first year I have sent a child to college. As much as I wanted Amber and Marie to attend college, they had no interest in continuing their education. Although this saddened me at first, I realized it was their life and they should have a choice in what they wanted to do. So, instead of seeking a college education, they both entered the work force and they seem content with this decision.<br /><br />Christine, on the other hand, has been looking forward to college for many years. She plans to seek a degree in Art Administration and she also wants to study abroad, hopefully in Japan. At some point after graduation, she wants to join the Peace Corps before settling down with a career. This past fall was full of applying to colleges, filling out scholarship forms and researching all grant opportunities; I know this spring will be full of last minute preparations, but it will be a fun experience.<br /><br />This year is also the year I plan to have a book published. I have been working on many things, but can’t seem to narrow my focus down to one thing, so I’m not exactly sure what the book will be. I do know it will be one of the following possibilities: a collection of my Mercer’s Magazine essays, a poetry collection, a book about Harrodsburg, or a young adult book I am almost finished with. Because I’m interested in so many areas, it is hard for me to work on any one project for a long period of time, so I catch myself working on each one for a short period of time. This may not be ideal for most writers, but it is the techniques that work for me.<br /><br />I guess the most special thing I’m looking forward to is celebrating my 20th wedding anniversary and being able to spend more time with my hubby. Keith and I have been together for 24 years, but we’ve only been married for 20. Since we have been together, there have always been children in the house. Even though we had a wonderful week long honeymoon, we’ve never really had any time alone with children. And as much as I miss the kids being around all the time, I’m excited about the new status in our relationship.<br /><br />Where did the time go? I don’t know, but I do know that the older I get, the faster time seems to speed by. You’ve got to reach out and grab a piece of life while it’s spinning by, because if you wait for things to happen for you, it may be too late. I hope everyone has a Happy New Year and enjoys the fruits of a new decade. </p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15334812243182354729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137909661947647752.post-40523028397089686002009-12-03T11:39:00.001-05:002009-12-03T15:49:51.983-05:00Baby’s First Christmas – Again<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtrfU6VTOBZGPebyGSo5hkAVHzx9sBuXO87yMAt_HpHXf650iL0uTiWYNE-eRGeMiMXBWjJHaB_u6drdC1wi0XfRy2q5X9dm0wn9KQlhT06TvAa9sU3NS5KuBTCI_FpPNN8DFN7uXvp9Sg/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtrfU6VTOBZGPebyGSo5hkAVHzx9sBuXO87yMAt_HpHXf650iL0uTiWYNE-eRGeMiMXBWjJHaB_u6drdC1wi0XfRy2q5X9dm0wn9KQlhT06TvAa9sU3NS5KuBTCI_FpPNN8DFN7uXvp9Sg/s400/untitled.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411114787078780546" /></a><em>(Desiree Carter Semones; born October 28, 2009)</em><br /><br /><br /><br />The Christmas season is upon us again – where did the time go? It seems like the older I get, the faster time flies by. I no longer have any little children in the household, so our Christmas routine is somewhat different than it was years ago. I can remember the kids being so excited to get up early Christmas morning and open their presents. Christmas really is for children.<br /> <br />Although I can’t remember back to my first Christmas, after all I was only four months old, there is one picture of me I vividly remember from the Christmas of 1962. I am lying on my Granny Devine’s couch and there is a huge stocking next to me, the old-fashion type of man’s stocking. My Granddaddy had filled it with lots of baby food, or that’s what everyone has told me. I have no memories at all of my Granddaddy; he died when I was still a baby. What knowledge I have of him is from the stories my Mom has told me and the few precious photographs that still exist.<br /> <br />I can remember so many details of my first daughter’s Christmas in 1982 – Amber was only three months old. Of course, she was too young to know what was going on, but I enjoyed making memories and taking photos. She got lots of clothes and toys that have long been forgotten, but there is one precious gift that holds special memories. My parents gave her a solid white stuffed kitten – it was almost a duplicate of one I had as a child. I can remember Amber carrying this kitten when she got older, and I eventually had to store it away in a closet, least it fall apart and be gone forever. Since then, my other two girls have been given white kittens and this will be a tradition I will carry on with my grandchildren. My girl’s cats are all lovingly packed away with my own kitten and they will eventually end up in a shadow box or some type of display, but until then, I’ll keep them safe and sound.<br /> <br />When Marie’s first Christmas arrived in 1984, she was already walking and talking. At nine months old, she was a little pistol, trying to do everything her older sister was doing. This was an exciting Christmas for our family because Amber had just turned two and she was starting to understand what Christmas was all about.<br /> <br />This year, there were toys galore under the tree – rocking horses, Strawberry Shortcake, Gizmo and more. Although the He-Man castle was technically Amber’s, we had a hard time keeping Marie out of all the paraphernalia that went along with He-Man and Skeletore. This was also our first Christmas in our brand-new house – it seems like such a lifetime ago.<br /> <br />Christmas 1988 brought us the first Christmas of my niece, Ashley, the only child of my sister, Amy. Being a baby of three months, I’m sure Ashley doesn’t remember much, but she was the newest addition to the family and we were all happy to have another baby to love on. We’ve stored away memories and photographs, which are fun to look back on and remember.<br /> <br />When Christine’s first Christmas rolled around in 1992, our lives had changed so much for the better. We were a happy family blended together and the holidays were a joyous time. Christine was only three months old, but Amber and Marie were 10 and 8, so Christmas fever began before Thanksgiving was even over with. Again, Christine was too young to remember this first Christmas, but like the other girls here are tons and tons of photos, plus descriptions in her baby book.<br /> <br />Christmas 1993 brought us the first Christmas of a baby boy, my nephew, Ethan, son of my brother and sister-in-law, Brent and Patty. Like Marie, Ethan was nine months old, so he was almost walking and talking and enjoyed the excitement from his first Christmas. Now there were five grandchildren to fill my parents home and we all loved being together.<br /> <br />As the years have passed, we continue to gather at my parent’s home on Christmas Eve. A hearty meal my Mom slaves over all day gives us turkey and ham, mashed potatoes and dressing, corn and macaroni, broccoli casserole and oysters – we eat until we are so stuffed we’re miserable. When the kids were all younger, we had to rush through the meal because they were so anxious to open gifts. Now that the kids are older, the meal is more relaxed and less hurried. We have time to clear away the meal and spend time together before the rush of wrapping paper and ribbons start to litter the floor.<br /> <br />Although I continue to love spending the holidays with my family, it has just not been the same without little children in the house. I long for the days when my own grandchildren will gather around on Christmas Eve to celebrate the season. There is just something magical about a child at Christmas – a wonderment you can only see through their eyes.<br /> <br />Christmas 2009 will again have a new baby in the family, Desiree Carter, daughter of my niece Ashley. Although she is less than two months old, it is such a joy to have a baby at Christmas again. There will be lots of presents she won’t remember, lots of memories that we will remember, and plenty of photographs to show her when she’s grown. I know this is the beginning of a new phase in the life of my family, a new generation of babies to love and enjoy and I look forward to entertaining them all, not just at the holidays, but all through the year.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15334812243182354729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137909661947647752.post-5629956807362271162009-11-05T11:41:00.001-05:002009-11-10T11:16:06.437-05:00Giving Thanks<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheKsildn9ZVYuygt9se1NKJXVDI_yEbpb3UfUSt_JmESTnyw4HCfzL1iE7m6K625X4hPPVfRmHc7jr4u5YgydYYMTUYFXgClN1uGn2sKHjksL3ERMqSDjdTFWVDSOYnNbUWEu-BCJ-JssR/s1600-h/autumn_trees.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 225px; height: 276px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheKsildn9ZVYuygt9se1NKJXVDI_yEbpb3UfUSt_JmESTnyw4HCfzL1iE7m6K625X4hPPVfRmHc7jr4u5YgydYYMTUYFXgClN1uGn2sKHjksL3ERMqSDjdTFWVDSOYnNbUWEu-BCJ-JssR/s400/autumn_trees.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402509452371880722" /></a>Although I’ve never really taken Thanksgiving for granted, I have sometimes glossed over the true meaning of the holiday in favor of yummy turkey and mouth-watering dressing. I enjoy being with family and friends and remembering all that we have to be thankful for, but am I really giving proper credit to the things I am thankful for?<br /><br />This year has brought us two new members to our family and an expanding family is one to be grateful for. First is our new son-in-law, Jason Wilham, and although he an Amber have only been married a few months, he is the perfect fit for our family. Our second addition is a brand-new great niece, Desiree Carter, precious daughter of my niece, Ashley. Desiree is the first new baby in our family in over 16 years and we are thankful to be celebrating her first Thanksgiving. A new son and a new baby – my family is truly blessed<br /> <br />During this past summer, my family lived through a traumatic time in our lives - a fire at our home. This was not a total loss fire, but it did enough damage to disrupt our lives for several months. In addition to redoing the laundry room – where the fire occurred – we also had smoke and water damage to clean in the kitchen and living room. You don’t realize how much of a packrat you are until your pack-ratty ways are staring you right in the face.<br /> <br />Really? There are just so many file folders of corrected stories I can keep – why do I feel the need to hold on to every corrected copy? Really? There are just so many foam cups from Speedway my hubby can bring into the house – why do I feel the need to save every one? Really? There are just so many glass jars one family can own and use – why do I feel the need save them all instead of placing in the recycle bin?<br /> <br />Our clutter problem probably wouldn’t be so bad if it were just me, but my hubby is a packrat, too, and between us, we have a hard time letting anything go. Both of us can see objects in a new light, with a new purpose and we know that one day, we will need this item. The problem is, we never have enough time or energy to do anything with the item. I’ve saved old furniture thinking I can refurbish is, I’ve saved old pots and pans thinking I can use them as flower pots or seed starters and I’ve saved plastic bottles thinking to make mini-greenhouses for spring plants. I really do have good intentions, but for some reason, life just gets in the way.<br /> <br />For many years we used to eat Pizza Hut pizza every Friday night – it was a family tradition to have pizza and a movie on Fridays. I always saved the boxes because they could be used to make stepping-stones. At one time, I had a stack of boxes in my kitchen I called the “leaning tower of pizza.” I did make some stepping-stones with a few of the boxes, but the process took so long and the stones were so heavy, I couldn’t move them by myself. I did use some of the boxes as a weed barrier in a new garden bed and they worked beautifully when covered with mulch, but I could never use all the boxes I had saved.<br /> <br />After the fire, I was surprised to find a small stack of pizza boxes in the kitchen that had escaped the fire. It has been almost two years since we’ve routinely had Pizza Hut pizza on Friday night – two years! With the economy so bad, I’ve started making homemade pizza because it is cheaper and we can control the toppings. Why was I still holding on to old pizza boxes? I don’t know, but I took a deep breath and threw them in the trash.<br /> <br />Although I realize possessions can be replaced, we did lose a few things of sentimental value that will be greatly missed, our cedar wardrobe being the largest. The wardrobe actually belonged to my mother-in-law, but we’ve been using it since we were married over 20 years ago. I loved that wardrobe and I had always planned to have it turned into an entertainment center for our living room so we could see the beautiful wood. Inside the wardrobe were my wedding dress and the first quilt I ever made. I’ve saved them both, but they will never be able to be used again. Part of my packrat mind won’t let me throw them away because I may be able to turn them into a pillow or something, but who knows?<br /> <br />Other things, like the washer and dryer, deep freezer and clothes organizer – these will all be replaced. No sentimental attachment to these things. Old winter clothes waiting to be put back into use; we can always buy new clothes. Some Halloween decorations were also in the laundry room waiting to decorate for fall, but maybe I had too many decorations; maybe the universe is trying to tell me simple is really best.<br /> <br />This year at Thanksgiving, I’m thankful the rest of our house was spared. I’m thankful my husband, my daughter or myself were not at home. We grieve for the loss of our three beautiful cats, but we have lost pets before and I’m sure we’ll lose pets again. I am thankful for the love and support of our family and friends and I am grateful for all their thoughts and prayers. This year, Thanksgiving is blossoming in a new light. This year, it really is a season to give thanks.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15334812243182354729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137909661947647752.post-3714952896752637242009-10-25T09:23:00.004-04:002009-10-25T09:43:42.916-04:00Hallowed and Hushed<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBZgxAJdvZkSYCIJuJsJdplwta26MCfZBEVXYiw9MoteK6RYgfWg6Ye60cg2vZ1xkewbdqYUtsruL7BWOT8BkEJk7afetkwpTRAqWF4vbUXmSt3kMnLuABGYMTx1miw0mReD9UAiBqTkoB/s1600-h/image002.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 331px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBZgxAJdvZkSYCIJuJsJdplwta26MCfZBEVXYiw9MoteK6RYgfWg6Ye60cg2vZ1xkewbdqYUtsruL7BWOT8BkEJk7afetkwpTRAqWF4vbUXmSt3kMnLuABGYMTx1miw0mReD9UAiBqTkoB/s400/image002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396532788132118162" /></a><blockquote><p><em>Unknown. Hallowed and Hushed be the place of the dead. Step Softly. Bow Head.</em></p></blockquote><br />Living in Harrodsburg my entire life, I have a sentimental attachment to Youngs Park, located on Linden Avenue, between the Mercer County Fairgrounds and Haggin Memorial Hospital. I have so many memories of playing in the park, eating picnic lunches and attending family functions. My Granny Devine lived within walking distance of the park and I’ve walked the short block from her home so many times, I could walk it blindfolded.<br /><br />Youngs Park has always been one of my favorite places to escape to when looking for a nice, quiet lunch. Many times I have driven behind the park to the lower picnic tables and enjoyed a sandwich while watching the antics of the squirrels. The squirrels have become so used to human contact, they will sit within easy reach of picnic tables or cars, eagerly waiting for a scrap of bread or a French fry to be thrown their way.<br /><br />Many of my fondest memories of Youngs Park occurred during my Girl Scout years and our annual summer Day Camp. One week of each summer was dedicated to numerous scouting projects with a different theme for each day. I can remember tie-dying T-shirts, painting pictures, cooking over a campfire, learning how to mark trails, just to name a few activities. During the summer of 1971, our favorite song to sing – and we sang it at the tops of our voices – was Three Dog Night’s “Jeremiah Was a Bullfrog.” We thought we were so cool.<br /><br />The highlight of the Day Camp would be the sleepover on Friday night. For the sleepover, the Boy Scouts would come and help us set up tents in the back portion of the park. Camping out was exciting and we looked forward to it every year. Campfires, homemade stews, and s’mores were all on the list of activities.<br /><br />Another eager awaited tradition for the sleepover was the telling of ghost stories. Because most of the Girl Scouts ranged in age from 8 to 14, we were all susceptible to having the beegeezus scared out of us! And Youngs Park was the perfect backdrop for these scary stories because of the legend of the “girl who danced herself to death.”<br /><br />I’ve heard the story all my life – an unknown young girl arrived at the long-gone Graham Springs Hotel and attended a lavish ball where she danced all night. She eventually danced herself to death, collapsing onto the ballroom floor at the feet of her partner. She was buried in an unknown grave on the Graham Springs property. It is only as I’ve gotten older that I’ve had the desire to check more into this legend.<br /><br />Historic Graham Springs was located in the area of the current Physician’s Park and Haggin Hospital and was on the site of a natural spring. There were numerous springs in the Harrodsburg area and they were reported to have healing and restorative properties.<br /><br />This Spring, that would eventually be called Graham Springs, was turned into a spa as early as 1807. In 1827, Dr. Christopher C. Graham purchased the Springs and in 1842 constructed the main hotel, Graham Springs Hotel. The hotel was a brick four-story building which Graham said would hold one thousand people.<br /><br />Graham charged a fee of $20 per month to stay at the Springs and “take the waters.” Not only did guests enjoy and benefit from healing waters, they also joined in a lively social season which lasted from June until September. Balls and other entertainment occupied the guests while they drank the mineral waters. Graham claimed the waters helped to alleviate the aches and pains of people who suffered from such aliments as gout, rheumatism, dropsy, neuralgia, and “Autumnal fevers.”<br />Often called the “Saratoga of the West,” Graham Springs flourished until 1853, when it was sold to the United States Government for use as a military asylum for aged and invalid soldiers. Fire later destroyed main buildings and the place fell into disuse.<br /><br />Sometime between 1842 and 1853, legend says a beautiful young lady appeared at the Springs. No one knew who she was, but it is rumored she came from “down South.” When arriving at the Springs, she signed the guest register with a fictitious name. After her dancing death, she became known as the “unknown lady,” although most people from Mercer County still refer to her as “the lady who danced herself to death.”<br /><br />After her death and burial at the Springs, a monument honoring her was erected. Currently, the tomb is located between the road and the shelter house, with a sign bearing the words: <blockquote><em>Unknown<br />Hallowed and<br />Hushed be the<br />place of the dead.<br />Step Softly.<br />Bow Head.</em></blockquote><br />As I child, I thought I saw the ghost of this mysterious lady on numerous occasions, but as I’ve grown older, I realize it was probably mass hysteria brought on by ghost stories around the campfire. Although, there was one night in 2004, as I was leaving work at the Haggin Hospital at three o’clock in the morning, I would swear I saw a woman dancing through the park. She appeared to be dressed in white and was walking near one of the large oak trees in the middle of the park. Thinking back, it was probably exhaustion or my mind playing tricks on me. But then again …<br /><br /><br /><br />Added note: As recently as 2002, an article appeared in the Mercer’s Magazine claiming to have finally learned the identity of this unknown woman. This article can be read in its entirety at: http://www.angelfire.com/tn3/masterdetective2/Old_Mystery1.pdf.<br /><br />Acknowledgement: I would like to thank my brother-in-law, Don Rightmyer, from the Kentucky Historical Society for helping me find information on Graham Springs.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15334812243182354729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137909661947647752.post-1989143744960950662009-09-03T11:10:00.000-04:002009-09-03T11:10:00.764-04:00Buildings of Days Gone By<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtixrUbJ-dneOtDT8mXQGTVludHj0owIV3yxCSKgf0uOkuWIOn1ZUIc06G6v4d9HQhh5TG-f9GCWHYfgAGdSodLJMkUvdQWyQtIRkQWP5Z0y-zhv7dgTjNsIXkPbyhhiNAVin1cgIZ3itC/s1600-h/Coca-Cola+Barn.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 277px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtixrUbJ-dneOtDT8mXQGTVludHj0owIV3yxCSKgf0uOkuWIOn1ZUIc06G6v4d9HQhh5TG-f9GCWHYfgAGdSodLJMkUvdQWyQtIRkQWP5Z0y-zhv7dgTjNsIXkPbyhhiNAVin1cgIZ3itC/s400/Coca-Cola+Barn.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365755368981244258" /></a><br />In recent months, I have been so proud of all the improvements going on in downtown Harrodsburg. Historic buildings are being refurbished and repainted and new businesses continue to thrive despite the struggling economy. Even older businesses are beginning to join in the remaking process.<br /> <br />Three of my favorite businesses on Main Street are Studio G, Beehive Gifts and Kentucky Fudge Company. The first two are longtime businesses and continue to attract new customers every day. The Fudge Company may be a new face in downtown, but it is fast becoming a favorite spot in Harrodsburg.<br /> <br />Studio G – owned and operated by Goldie Goldsmith-Vigneri – offers instructions and seminars for men and women fours years old and up. Pageant training, vocal and acting lessons, and confidence building are just a tiny portion of what is offered at Studio G. In addition to lessons, Studio G can also be rented for private birthday parties, meetings, dinners, weddings and casino nights. <br /> <br />Beehive Gifts – owned and operated by Jim and Shirley Sprague – is a wonderful gift shop and great place to find all types of collectibles. Boyds Bears, Willow Tree Angels, Precious Moments, Tim Wolfe Sculptures, and Cherished Teddies are all available for purchase. Beehive Gifts also offers several different lines of candles, including Yankee, Bridgewater, Candleberry, and Woodwick. If you are having trouble finding the perfect gift, Beehive Gifts will offer the ideal suggestions.<br /> <br />Kentucky Fudge Company – owned and operated by Tim and Jennifer Kazimer - is located in the historic Dedman’s Drugstore. In addition to the yummy homemade fudge, Kentucky Fudge Company also offers an assortment of ice cream treats from cones to milkshakes to sundaes. The café offers a different soup of the day, as well as the Harrodsburger, chicken salad, olive nut loaf and several other sandwich options. Many groups have discovered the joys of meeting at the Fudge Company, including the Community of Mercer County Writers who meets every Tuesday evening at six o’clock.<br /> <br />As I reminisce about my favorite Harrodsburg locations, I am faced with the sobering reality that many historical places disappearing from our landscape, most notably the Mercer County Court House. I understand the need for more space in the Mercer judicial system, but watching the demolition of the court house has been very sad. I drive through downtown Harrodsburg every weekday on my way to work, so I have watched the demolition of this building with a heavy heart.<br /> <br />This also reminds me of the destruction of the Hat Factory several years ago. Until its demolition in 2003, the old St. Andrews convent – known as the Hat Factory – was the oldest residence in Harrodsburg. Although the ROC building owned by the Harrodsburg Baptist Church has been a huge success, I can’t help but wonder what our ancestors would think about our practice of tearing down a historic building to put up a gymnasium.<br /> <br />Most rural grocery stores have totally disappeared, only to be replaced by convenience stores with gas pumps. Two of my favorite stores, Purvis’ and Peavler’s, both ceased to operate while I was still a little girl. The building for Purvis’ Grocery was totally removed, replaced by the Mooreland Avenue entrance into Mr. Kwik. Peavler’s Grocery was located on Magnolia Street, and although the building is still standing, it is a sad reminder of our past. Other small stores I miss were located in Bohon, Duncan, and Antioch.<br /> <br />Driving through the country, I also notice many barns and outbuildings slowing falling into decay from lack of use. Tobacco barns and cattle barns with roofs falling in or lumber falling off, they are pictorial reminders of a life gone by. Occasionally you can still see old outhouses, smokehouse, springhouses and root cellars, but these are also disappearing with each day that goes by. Along with the shrinking of family farms go the buildings that made small farming possible. I recently heard someone call old barns, “the graying bones of our past;” poetic, but true.<br /> <br />Even the gas station where my father used to work is long gone. Once located at the intersection of Mackville and Perryville Roads, I have so many fond memories of visiting the gas station and being treated to a cold Coke from the old fashion machine. The old Mercer Roller Rink building is still standing, albeit vacant expect for one week during the year when the Grand Old Mercer County Fair and Horse Show comes to town. During this week, the old roller rink is turned into the pride of Mercer County with the many exhibitors of the Floral Hall.<br /> <br />The Harrodsburg City Pool is now nothing but memories – I actually cried when the pool and building was torn down. I spent so much of my childhood swimming in the pool and sunbathing on the decks overlooking the Salt River. Now the pool is only a memory and my children will never know the joys it could bring.<br /> <br />On some of my photography sessions throughout the Mercer countryside, I have discovered many old barns and buildings, and they are forever captured through pictures. One of my favorites is a small barn located at the intersection of Fallis Run and Bardstown Road near the Antioch Church. I think the reason I like this building is because of the large Coca-Cola sign hanging on the side of the barn. I have always admired these old tin signs hanging on buildings and they fetch a hefty price at flea markets and yard sales. Unfortunately, the last time I went to visit this old barn, someone had removed the Coca-Cola sign. I’d like to think the owners removed it to keep as a piece of nostalgia, but with the building being right next to the road, I have my doubts.<br /> <br />Take a drive in the country and admire the old barns and buildings before they are all gone. Think about the old courthouse as you watch the new construction on Main Street and visit the thriving businesses downtown. Our historic landscape is changing, so store up as many memories as possible to share with your children and grandchildren, because you never know when it will be gone.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15334812243182354729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137909661947647752.post-2588649925138334132009-08-06T11:58:00.000-04:002009-08-06T11:58:00.415-04:00CHILDHOOD MEMORIESHave you ever wondered if the childhood memories you have are actual memories, or just other people’s interpretation of your memories? I sometimes wonder if my first memories are implanted memories from old photographs or stories told by my parents or grandparents. I have specific memories of the first home I remember living in and I know I lived in this home from the time I was two until just before my sixth birthday, but how much of what I remember is true memory?<br /> <br />As the oldest of three children - my brother, Brent, is 21 months younger than me, and my baby sister, Amy, was 19 months younger than my brother - we were like stair steps, three blond heads in a row. I’ve seen many childhood pictures of my siblings and me and we were usually always lined up by size, but I have no recollection of having these pictures made. No memories of the tears I’m sure we shed during photography sessions, after all, my kids shed lots of tears on occasion when having their pictures taken.<br /> <br />I think I can remember my brother as a baby, lying beside him on my parent’s double bed. But is it really a memory? It may just be the picture I have hanging in my hallway, the one of the two of us laying on the bed. Granny Devine used to tell me I was like a little mother hen, but I think this is my recollection of her memory, not my own memory. I do have a vivid memory of pushing Brent in a toy car in the backyard and try as I might, I can’t find a picture like this, so I feel this is a true memory.<br /> <br />I have another vivid memory of my brother, and he was walking, so I must have been at least three, if not a little older. We were playing in the backyard with our Farmer See ‘n Say and I was trying to teach him the sounds of all the animals. When a thunderstorm blew up, Mom rushed us inside before it started raining, but in our hurry to get inside, we left the See ‘n Say in the yard. Mom tried her best to get me to run across the yard to get the toy before the rain ruined it, but I was too afraid of the rain. She ended up racing into the yard while my brother and I both cried at the back door. I don’t remember anything else about the See ‘n Say, but this is one toy I bought when I had children of my own.<br /> <br />I also remember the Inchworm riding toy we used to own. These toys were very popular in the 1960s, and they are still popular today. You can find them in most stores selling toys, or on the Internet. Brent and I, and later Amy, used to take turns riding the Inchworm – up and down, up and down, from one end of the sidewalk to another. This is another toy I bought for my own children and they loved it as much as I did.<br /> <br />One of my fondest memories is of swinging on our swing set and singing at the top of my lungs for my next door neighbor to come out and play with me. Diane was probably five or six years older than me, but I followed her around like a little puppy dog. I would get on the swing glider and sing; “Diane, Diane, come out and play with me.” I can vividly remember this and my Mom also remembers this. A few years ago I met Diane again for the first time in probably 35 years, and she remembered me singing for her to come out and play. I know this is not an implanted memory, because I can actually remember the tune of the made-up song I sang.<br /> <br />One other memory I have is of a baby chicken my brother and I owned. I’m not sure if it was an Easter present or not, but I think it must have been. The chicken eventually got too big to keep in the house, and we were going to have to take it to Granny and Granddaddy’s farm in Bohon. I cried so hard because I didn’t want the chick to leave. On the day we were to take the chick to the farm, I was in charge of carrying the chicken which we had placed in a closed box. On the way to the car, my parents were too busy talking, so I lagged behind so I could hide the chicken. Passing by the tobacco barn behind our house, I opened one of the side vents of the barn and threw my chicken in, closing the vent as quickly as I could. Unfortunately for me, we only got a few miles out of town before Mom and Dad missed the chicken and I was forced to tell them what I did. I’m sure I probably got into trouble, but I don’t remember that.<br /> <br />Real or implanted, pictorial or video, I have many memories of my childhood, but try as I might, I’m really not sure what my very first memory is. All I know for sure is that I love to share my memories with my children, and I love to listen to the memories they remember from their lives. Memories are special, and sometimes fragile, so go out and make some memories with your children today.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15334812243182354729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137909661947647752.post-44160714643082014742009-07-01T14:18:00.000-04:002009-05-21T14:35:09.202-04:00RED-TAILED HAWKS<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgvH_1VteOB1S_TE2BN1nDqcihKCpy4fErr6mSwCViyMz8EIfFzGm1ch9BC1peZI74BzhP7p5J5Od9PBMzOBUdoynoXZ8uVaShmqlsVpj-H7ex3GSDJpcQa9uD1N8BmeO9MgMKPLYfg4lk/s1600-h/red-tailed%2520hawk.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 321px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgvH_1VteOB1S_TE2BN1nDqcihKCpy4fErr6mSwCViyMz8EIfFzGm1ch9BC1peZI74BzhP7p5J5Od9PBMzOBUdoynoXZ8uVaShmqlsVpj-H7ex3GSDJpcQa9uD1N8BmeO9MgMKPLYfg4lk/s400/red-tailed%2520hawk.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338346240193478770" /></a>For almost 6 years now, I have enjoyed the antics of a pair of Red-tailed Hawks who live in a tree near the back of my property. I love to watch these beautiful birds floating high above the trees, gracefully gliding through the air. <br /><br />Red-tailed Hawks are large birds with razor sharp talons and can be very aggressive when defending nests or territories. They frequently chase off other hawks, eagles, and Great Horned Owls.<br /> <br />The Red-tailed Hawk is the most common hawk – raptor – in North American occupying just about every type of open habitat on the continent. This includes grasslands, roadsides, deserts, scrublands, pastures, parks and even rainforests. They love to soar above open fields, slowly turning in circles on their broad, rounded wings looking for prey. They also enjoy sitting on telephone poles or other tall structures watching for a meal. <br /><br />Mammals make up the majority of the Hawks diet, including voles, rats, mice, rabbits, squirrels and snakes. Yes, I’ve seen my Red-tails flying by with a snake clutched in their razor sharp talons. They will also eat other birds: starlings, blackbirds, bobwhites and pheasants.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_6iJVHnHAvjtjXPYr3-MWGkIoPQDIUzsMZHZibG4gVpeRRE24UIhETXSD1lJHJxctlObdFL5de4P9mqL3svWNaSVTBEJU6IxiV4MrbHWueOHl0xuRguvodWfcR2zAPD_O8rI3ZOX9A_0a/s1600-h/Red-tailed_Hawk_commissioned_1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 350px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_6iJVHnHAvjtjXPYr3-MWGkIoPQDIUzsMZHZibG4gVpeRRE24UIhETXSD1lJHJxctlObdFL5de4P9mqL3svWNaSVTBEJU6IxiV4MrbHWueOHl0xuRguvodWfcR2zAPD_O8rI3ZOX9A_0a/s400/Red-tailed_Hawk_commissioned_1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338346685160297986" /></a>It is this love of other birds that lead to a hilarious sight a few weeks ago when I came home from work. As I pulled off the highway into my subdivision, I noticed one of my Red-tailed Hawks frantically flying overhead, but he (or she) was not alone. Hot on the Hawks red tail were three Starlings. The Starlings were dipping and weaving, trying their best to attack the swift Hawk. I can only surmise Mr. or Mrs. Red-tail had decided on baby Starlings for lunch. As Starlings are the one bird I dislike, I was rooting for the Hawks.<br /><br />The Red-tailed Hawk has a raspy scream sounding exactly like a raptor should sound. It is this shrill calling that alerts me to the adventures of my Hawks. I enjoy sitting in the backyard and watching their aerial acrobatics.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCdzCCnsR6Q6AgZKosSwUfdcOCvWaRuVUV2EbVk1ZxPTPcf_kANDv6cGTUdSsgbhyphenhyphenTMXbZSpg33LQXSew5ztS-FIQ-AZQZiQWMT9cj8Rd7nE2G5wwGh6WjzuL3OdraElSQgVPqPBh9Rfg1/s1600-h/draft_lens1904107module9298121photo_1209320887red-tailed_hawk_enlarged.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 363px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCdzCCnsR6Q6AgZKosSwUfdcOCvWaRuVUV2EbVk1ZxPTPcf_kANDv6cGTUdSsgbhyphenhyphenTMXbZSpg33LQXSew5ztS-FIQ-AZQZiQWMT9cj8Rd7nE2G5wwGh6WjzuL3OdraElSQgVPqPBh9Rfg1/s400/draft_lens1904107module9298121photo_1209320887red-tailed_hawk_enlarged.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338346415376313026" /></a>The largest female Red-tailed Hawk only weighs about three pounds, but it is still one of the largest birds on the continent. The Hawks typically hunt in pairs, each guarding opposite sides of the same tree in order to catch a squirrel. <br /><br />Both male and female Hawks help with building the nest, many times just refurbishing their nest from a previous years – this is what my Hawks do, because their nest is always in the same tall tree. Usually the nests are tall piles of dry sticks and the inner aspect is lined with bark strips, fresh foliage, and dry vegetation. Red-tailed Hawks typically put their nests in the crowns of tall trees where they have a commanding view of the landscape. They have also been known to nest on a cliff ledge or on artificial structures such as window ledges and billboard platforms.<br /><br />Courting Red-tailed Hawks can be seen soaring in wide circles very high in the sky. The male will make a steep dive, and then shoot up again at an equally steep angle. He performs this ritual several times before approaching the female from above. He will extend his legs and briefly touch the female before flying away. Occasionally, the pair will grab onto each other by clasping talons and spiraling downward – they will then pull away before coming near the ground. Mated pairs typically stay together until one of the pair dies. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaL-uijXPg_sVqAZMaNifcAbcg4xo6mh0abEvAOhGrC2-lgIL3is5DtvNSX4YbpyLqb0duMD5dHfEkIsBWj6sEHHffhMpKOdRzAXqA9NLhgQrLmPda1t-SoEux1TL5v8BxR3LX2ytrxB6g/s1600-h/red-tailed_hawk_4238np.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaL-uijXPg_sVqAZMaNifcAbcg4xo6mh0abEvAOhGrC2-lgIL3is5DtvNSX4YbpyLqb0duMD5dHfEkIsBWj6sEHHffhMpKOdRzAXqA9NLhgQrLmPda1t-SoEux1TL5v8BxR3LX2ytrxB6g/s400/red-tailed_hawk_4238np.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338347122135985042" /></a>After courtship, the mother usually lays three eggs and sits on the eggs to keep them warm while the father hunts and feeds her. The babies will hatch after 30 days and they are covered with white down. The babies learn to fly just before they are two months old, but they still depend on their parents for food. During the summer, the fledglings follow their parents around, watching and learning how to hunt. Because Red-tailed Hawks are very territorial, it may be hard for the young hawks to find a new place to live. They typically leave the parents after the first year, but they are two or three years old before they mate and start raising babies of their own. <br /><br />I’ve had the privilege of watching my pair go through the mating ritual several times and it is beautiful to behold. For the past two summers, this ritual has produced two hatchlings each year. When I saw the first set of babies learning to fly, it was so fascinating. All summer and fall I watched the babies learning to hunt with the parents, but then when colder weather was here to stay, I lost track of the babies. <br /><br />By the following spring, the babies were not longer flying high with the parents. I’m not sure where the babies migrated to, but they haven’t stayed around with their parents. I guess when young Hawks fly the coop they stay gone.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpBGCYE4i5Xt5JQWXrUyqRcaIzEwr9nvQoVp5Y_HwnLN9sCBXhXiFY33VfuKQ4TqnMniVk0S2-Ujq9MeEb0jYhO8X8mBVb8nhLneRLD-JTKAPAplitAh9HTqvkB9ftRb-H7NI-xTujz_uF/s1600-h/hkrdtlfly.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 365px; height: 217px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpBGCYE4i5Xt5JQWXrUyqRcaIzEwr9nvQoVp5Y_HwnLN9sCBXhXiFY33VfuKQ4TqnMniVk0S2-Ujq9MeEb0jYhO8X8mBVb8nhLneRLD-JTKAPAplitAh9HTqvkB9ftRb-H7NI-xTujz_uF/s400/hkrdtlfly.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338345184247663682" /></a>Red-tailed hawks usually live six to seven years in the wild, so I’m preparing for my pair to be gone in the next few years. I just hope they are replaced by another pair of lovely hawks – maybe the offspring of my current pair - because there is nothing better than forgetting the stresses of the day by watching the free forms of the Red-tailed Hawk.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15334812243182354729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137909661947647752.post-5734582623729873742009-06-01T16:12:00.001-04:002009-04-30T17:52:24.266-04:00Wedding Bells<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmuGSqDHpXQdKPuRH-xCBunrHP5mr6GmVumLWthJ359PcbuEzPkAPhGWojaiA9bF6KIb0-al-_ihZuCqtPCEYGmMo5qm50AxzvFx2NisfPyf_gsibHSXZeuWuyP0xFLV22U8aLnZY1lb4/s1600-h/amber+age+18.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 312px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmuGSqDHpXQdKPuRH-xCBunrHP5mr6GmVumLWthJ359PcbuEzPkAPhGWojaiA9bF6KIb0-al-_ihZuCqtPCEYGmMo5qm50AxzvFx2NisfPyf_gsibHSXZeuWuyP0xFLV22U8aLnZY1lb4/s400/amber+age+18.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330603843052589506" /></a><blockquote><em>“Amber, I am going to try and make you the happiest, healthiest baby alive. I want to make sure I do everything right. I love you so much, I want you to have the best life has to offer. When you’re older, I don’t want you to hesitate to come to me with your problems – I will always be here for you and so will God. He is the one that made it possible for you to be here and he will always have the answers you seek. Amber, you are the most precious little girl alive. You will always be my little angel and I love you with all my heart.”</em></blockquote>(Excerpt of a letter by me from the baby book of Amber Dawn Huffman, written September 16, 1982)<br /><br />The day was rainy, but there was nothing but happiness in my heart. “Tuesday’s child is full of grace” – this verse from the Mother Goose rhyme “Monday’s Child” was making me smile in spite of the rain. My first born child will be a girl full of grace - a child I knew in my heart was a daughter, although I had never had an ultrasound. The date was September 14, 1982 and Amber Dawn Huffman came into this world, screaming at the top of her lungs, at 1:31 in the afternoon – a Tuesday afternoon.<br /> <br />At 20 years old, my dream of being a mother had finally come true. After a short labor and extremely easy delivery, my first bundle of joy – all 5 pounds and 14 ounces – was placed in my arms and I knew I was the happiest woman on earth. Even though she was three weeks overdue, she was tinier than I had expected, especially after gaining 20 pounds. I guess most of the weight was due to the plain M&Ms I consumed on a weekly basis.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy6zp5L_xauFhg_dR42K4cL45-bUJJmCWyyRbXTvR7E3jXp_ODaEw-ssR62YwGKl3FqDpWoWQ1c8yJQJj-P43UTbiJzOf5hWwMCa3K5LLO6LTC91HmcX1wxZbV5cloyWvw4leAEe4_Z44/s1600-h/amber+age+5+mths.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 349px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy6zp5L_xauFhg_dR42K4cL45-bUJJmCWyyRbXTvR7E3jXp_ODaEw-ssR62YwGKl3FqDpWoWQ1c8yJQJj-P43UTbiJzOf5hWwMCa3K5LLO6LTC91HmcX1wxZbV5cloyWvw4leAEe4_Z44/s400/amber+age+5+mths.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330598798311206690" /></a> <em>(Amber sitting on Granny Sallee's lap - age 5 months)</em><br /> <br />I was so scared the day we brought her home from the hospital. Her father worked nights, so I was going to be home all alone with a newborn. What if I couldn’t quiet her when she cried? What if I didn’t have enough breast milk to feed her? What if she got sick? What if, what if? I was so nervous I think I called my own mother three or four times before the night was over, and this was before speed dial and cell phones.<br /> <br />By the time Amber was one month old, she had doubled her birth weight – three cheers for mother’s milk. No longer a skinny newborn, my beautiful daughter now had little ham hocks for legs. And she was no longer bald because tiny wisps of blond hair were starting to peek through.<br /> <br />For her first Christmas, Amber was three months old and she was smiling and kicking her legs whenever she was awake. She was such a happy baby and she loved for family to carry her around - and carry her around they did. She turned into a typical first child who demanded to be carried whenever she was awake. She received a high chair from her maternal grandparents on Christmas Eve and within months she was able up and start on solid foods.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOWjioJGiz3Y4vgjdwEKqp_qZrRR3xMggpSWsrY723T5_m32SQ8HEQfppqysMYaN1TPvEiaK6nK9d2qXZPyreSQPJhSpek3WLH_tXnoZVeTn3j96pHzpZuuViimBhqL3D65GxyWsiRywo/s1600-h/amber+age+1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 359px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOWjioJGiz3Y4vgjdwEKqp_qZrRR3xMggpSWsrY723T5_m32SQ8HEQfppqysMYaN1TPvEiaK6nK9d2qXZPyreSQPJhSpek3WLH_tXnoZVeTn3j96pHzpZuuViimBhqL3D65GxyWsiRywo/s400/amber+age+1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330599508154979122" /></a> <em>(Learning to walk - age 1)</em><br /> <br />Before I could blink my eyes, I was planning Amber’s first birthday party. Where did the time go? We had a house full of family and friends to help us celebrate the day. Amber was taking her first tentative solo steps and she enjoyed tip-toeing from one person to another. When she stuck her entire face into the birthday cake I baked for her, I caught myself crying and wishing she would never grew up.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSo-9HqKaIsh1AoPBH13XKyGgPZ0eWkEkx_nIzgcsGCerC0bTy1qCZ2gdC7eQ2DtKqqGzW2xWGI55MLXaHBuSy92A-PFYM02fJ8DlNbrqaKfGEp47rW0xEECTQ_kNBexKRHlrm8qR-cT8/s1600-h/rainbow+brite+age+3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 255px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSo-9HqKaIsh1AoPBH13XKyGgPZ0eWkEkx_nIzgcsGCerC0bTy1qCZ2gdC7eQ2DtKqqGzW2xWGI55MLXaHBuSy92A-PFYM02fJ8DlNbrqaKfGEp47rW0xEECTQ_kNBexKRHlrm8qR-cT8/s400/rainbow+brite+age+3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330600138895181058" /></a> <em>(Dressed as Rainbow Brite - age 3)</em><br /> <br />For her second Halloween I dressed Amber up as Raggedy Ann. By her third birthday she was in love with all things Rainbow Brite and she had a younger sister, Carolyn Marie. When she was four years old she joined the Mission Friends group at church and sang in the preschool choir. The years were flying by at warp speed.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD1Lgh69s-PIiErwvDhOd_OUYLPhVgAJR4cAzJCYwza4f7MvBpWoCIEt9tAZgPOUypLrRafen6ec3TrYJ_B3PdadBoL8e9H7OrADO77GWsbeGZQjwlkKiurdZaHdzx28-MrZZy9ktES3s/s1600-h/my+college+graduation.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 334px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD1Lgh69s-PIiErwvDhOd_OUYLPhVgAJR4cAzJCYwza4f7MvBpWoCIEt9tAZgPOUypLrRafen6ec3TrYJ_B3PdadBoL8e9H7OrADO77GWsbeGZQjwlkKiurdZaHdzx28-MrZZy9ktES3s/s400/my+college+graduation.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330600847093943842" /></a><em>(My family at my nursing school graduation; from right to left: Amber, Marie, Mom, Dad, and Granny Sallee - May 12, 1990)</em><br /> <br />When it was time for Amber to start school, we both started at the same time – she in kindergarten and me in nursing school. Those three years of my nursing school career were the hardest times of my life. I was a single mother with two small children, but we all managed to survive healthy and whole, and we are stronger for it. Of course, I never would have made it through the tough times if it weren’t for my wonderful children – they were the reason for everything I did.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNxvruK-Ao-4HlkWySzTw_eMPRVEzNWbCHCsOUvFrlZoMmZd_IUZZdgG542Usor3CQq2GPzNn0y79ZY_9eQi6TAKE-IrSJ22pMTees8mqu9gZyTGbS0JU127-D_EuxDpiCdWmJ9ow-K5k/s1600-h/amber+3rd+grade.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 235px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNxvruK-Ao-4HlkWySzTw_eMPRVEzNWbCHCsOUvFrlZoMmZd_IUZZdgG542Usor3CQq2GPzNn0y79ZY_9eQi6TAKE-IrSJ22pMTees8mqu9gZyTGbS0JU127-D_EuxDpiCdWmJ9ow-K5k/s400/amber+3rd+grade.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330601837298595698" /></a><em>(3rd grade - 1990)</em><br /> <br />Elementary school flew by in a haze – PTO, teacher meetings, parent volunteer days and even though I was working the night shift, I always made time to attend all of Amber’s activities. Middle school brought her first dance and a whole new set of worries. Hormones and acne, boundaries and groundings, like most young teenagers she gave me a run for my money. But she was never in any serious trouble and always kept up with her school work. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJM6HZyJYWCtAPYpjOM7XZSP6QSbcyqouJAcDygeVPQBiMk6dE8s7Y4nDrNObEjs6SWk2TLU5B60Yb9rpWKOx2JjwEsbf07eyCfEoat6_4ey5-eP24MARgrFQSEl1WfQAqvPKV0Pz0FTY/s1600-h/amber+age+16.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 302px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJM6HZyJYWCtAPYpjOM7XZSP6QSbcyqouJAcDygeVPQBiMk6dE8s7Y4nDrNObEjs6SWk2TLU5B60Yb9rpWKOx2JjwEsbf07eyCfEoat6_4ey5-eP24MARgrFQSEl1WfQAqvPKV0Pz0FTY/s400/amber+age+16.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330603121066612514" /></a> <em>(Age 16)</em><br /><br />Soon she was moving on to high school, with an unpleasant surprise. Chicken pox at the age of 15 was a hard pill to swallow and we both learned that home schooling was not something we enjoyed. High school graduation was a blur of smiles and tears – graduating with honors, I could not have been more proud of my oldest daughter. Intelligent, beautiful and self-assured, Amber was ready to make her mark on the world. No longer a child, this young adult was now full of hopes and dreams of her own.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJSSsqk7mxzb_qfO4vmIisfm9yh2jxvVKDqPtDHRFBRJujI3IbN3ShFgAGY6NoKbA6CVbwwXrJ4Ht_vZHlKz6_DtYL2_u7H8n-cTiD3FCyRSOE_CwvkUCcYvlUuEjbHYRbGZT6dgxmflw/s1600-h/amber-17.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 281px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJSSsqk7mxzb_qfO4vmIisfm9yh2jxvVKDqPtDHRFBRJujI3IbN3ShFgAGY6NoKbA6CVbwwXrJ4Ht_vZHlKz6_DtYL2_u7H8n-cTiD3FCyRSOE_CwvkUCcYvlUuEjbHYRbGZT6dgxmflw/s400/amber-17.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330604404950544242" /></a> <em>(Age 17 - senior picture)</em><br /> <br />My baby is now 26 years old and beginning the next phase of her life. She has found the man of her dreams – Jason Wilham – and they will be married in just a few weeks on June 20th. I am so happy for the love my daughter has found and I am confident her future will be bright.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirzCet7uVt4o8YQ7NFhP8sKk-2hYFK6SxZsIYWC5Gzf_oZI-R8zeWZQuliGlGdFUg6Db_FyyHGrJbW5rLK5hWd6sj_l8eY3wABrIcuulMFMKqDBtaGl-gQa_2FPSJrdOaWQPI2Z8Ngczs/s1600-h/amber.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 275px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirzCet7uVt4o8YQ7NFhP8sKk-2hYFK6SxZsIYWC5Gzf_oZI-R8zeWZQuliGlGdFUg6Db_FyyHGrJbW5rLK5hWd6sj_l8eY3wABrIcuulMFMKqDBtaGl-gQa_2FPSJrdOaWQPI2Z8Ngczs/s400/amber.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329471271182958610" /></a><em>(Amber and Jason - Christmas 2007)</em><br /> <br />So as I stress and worry about the upcoming wedding, one thing is clear in my head – I’m not losing a daughter, I’m gaining a son. And although I’m not rushing things, I feel I’m one step closer to beginning the next chapter in my life with bundles of grandchildren.<br /><br />Congratulations Amber Dawn Huffman and Jason Wilham!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15334812243182354729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137909661947647752.post-46337679321368890642009-05-01T12:02:00.000-04:002009-03-23T13:45:17.477-04:00The Joy of Amusement ParksI have always been a sucker for theme parks: Silver Dollar City (now Dollywood), Ghost Town in the Sky, Kings Island, Opryland, and Beach Bend were just a few I visited as a child. But one of my favorite Kentucky attractions - Tombstone Junction – is no longer in operation.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrZuc5WxDlDOLnfLOgtGMWSrI6suWDpNZjuCRWT56YcjGPtg3FhPK5v6QyfSfKmmx07rm6H6DfGqXKJ4x9gJ8wkZ3DYCzBiCSxYbJ5suS44gDqUtQZdIBUsxDQrodBs9pK-xvHR0XsSXNB/s1600-h/tombjunction.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 232px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrZuc5WxDlDOLnfLOgtGMWSrI6suWDpNZjuCRWT56YcjGPtg3FhPK5v6QyfSfKmmx07rm6H6DfGqXKJ4x9gJ8wkZ3DYCzBiCSxYbJ5suS44gDqUtQZdIBUsxDQrodBs9pK-xvHR0XsSXNB/s320/tombjunction.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316414750639435298" /></a>Tombstone Junction was a Wild West themed park just outside of Corbin, Kentucky and it featured a real steam engine train and live “country” entertainment. Tombstone Junction had a railroad system of its own and was subjected to many “train robberies” over the years. These train robberies used to scare me as a child, but I always insisted on riding the train.<br /><br />As a teenager, I was privileged to see Tanya Tucker and Glenn Campbell, Conway Twitty, Waylon Jennings and a few others I’ve long since forgotten. Unfortunately, or fortunately as my hubby likes to say, I grew out of the country music phase, but as a young child, I loved listening to my parent’s music. I even had a real “Tombstone Junction” cowboy hat I used to wear to the park.<br /><br />All that remains of Tombstone Junction today is an empty parking lot, one crumbling shack, and some decaying bits of what was once the billboard, along with the memories of those who say the park in its glory days.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp2sgeFMHodAN5rcFziJbnjKi3yLL40QhRYa05qG-GO2u9p4oX2qbLD_l8FpcMcK7R_Hl8VsHuOlGjnE7nw2rMxuMW7BXPh1IpXQtcT5kBI5olo8z6su6zaqP3fi2liYPThuE30spMCMEH/s1600-h/silver+dollar+sign.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 205px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp2sgeFMHodAN5rcFziJbnjKi3yLL40QhRYa05qG-GO2u9p4oX2qbLD_l8FpcMcK7R_Hl8VsHuOlGjnE7nw2rMxuMW7BXPh1IpXQtcT5kBI5olo8z6su6zaqP3fi2liYPThuE30spMCMEH/s320/silver+dollar+sign.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316437820147367954" /></a>Another western amusement park I enjoyed as a child was Silver Dollar City in Pigeon Forge. Renamed Dollywood in 1986 when Dolly Parton bought the park, the old Silver Dollar City was started in 1961 - one year before I was born. It began life as Rebel Railroad, and changed names again in 1966 when it became Goldrush Junction, before finally becoming Silver Dollar City in 1977, named after the original Silver Dollar City in Branson, Missouri.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibEsyl3LMu8TeoJ2wnBQ3oD6V8ctF7HQalpfQm8OSbzzOR7CImatdc6gGrRoEdPfhyglsiPMmM4Eloi_es55vZl6GCSil4DthvWXaEgsvbgmFlZESJ-XXrW47ZYTqeqixchyKLJ4oS2FaR/s1600-h/dollywood+sign.bmp"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 208px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibEsyl3LMu8TeoJ2wnBQ3oD6V8ctF7HQalpfQm8OSbzzOR7CImatdc6gGrRoEdPfhyglsiPMmM4Eloi_es55vZl6GCSil4DthvWXaEgsvbgmFlZESJ-XXrW47ZYTqeqixchyKLJ4oS2FaR/s320/dollywood+sign.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316437594665466258" /></a>Dollywood is organized into several different themed areas including the Show Street, Rivertown Junction, Craftsmen Valley, the Country Fair and Timber Canyon. These areas reflect the historical eras and culture of east Tennessee. When Dolly bought the park, the Dreamland Forest and Adventures in Imagination areas were added and these emphasize Parton's life and imagination. Many attractions at Dollywood preserve the history and culture of the Southern Appalachian region.<br /><br />Show Street includes the Show Street Palace Theatre, were most of the musical shows are performed and The Southern Gospel Museum and Hall of Fame. Rivertown Junction includes the Tennessee Mountain Home, the Back Porch Theatre, and the Smoky Mountain River Rampage whitewater rafting ride. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgltOWcrTJszXK8AVRucTuli4O4NbQ1qgEEL4ReFFzKrgzbKF5b7XBaaLdD7AKFBIsSoiQVzf0QsksHsb-IKVyi3YbvT-tuNEyv9IbsifT3VOB-EKKB1MMwr90p7sipxzOkbkOaRK2k5JJP/s1600-h/Dollywood+grist+mill.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 241px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgltOWcrTJszXK8AVRucTuli4O4NbQ1qgEEL4ReFFzKrgzbKF5b7XBaaLdD7AKFBIsSoiQVzf0QsksHsb-IKVyi3YbvT-tuNEyv9IbsifT3VOB-EKKB1MMwr90p7sipxzOkbkOaRK2k5JJP/s320/Dollywood+grist+mill.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316438072896541090" /></a>Craftsmen's Valley is my personal favorite and I usually spend the majority of my time at Dollywood in this area. In addition to the Dollywood Grist Mill, this area includes the Eagle Mountain Sanctuary, Wings of America Theatre, all the craft exhibits and Blazing Fury coaster. Blazing Fury is an enclosed steel roller coaster and was built in-house by Silver Dollar City Tennessee in 1978, prior to the park becoming Dollywood<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw2StayX2LyzJADKd-zuciI3Cv_r4COpFASghTcJ7w523JNXtskHm6n0nDJgF-atOvibXp0C7JpmTVFsEyhymetjJv6JGvAC8CtDrkvfUeapfyx3upVijrPjA6e2n9By1hI3QD_8EDlfBY/s1600-h/Silver+dollar+city.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw2StayX2LyzJADKd-zuciI3Cv_r4COpFASghTcJ7w523JNXtskHm6n0nDJgF-atOvibXp0C7JpmTVFsEyhymetjJv6JGvAC8CtDrkvfUeapfyx3upVijrPjA6e2n9By1hI3QD_8EDlfBY/s320/Silver+dollar+city.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316440085677640066" /></a>Since my children are older, we rarely visit the Country Fair because this is the area with the children’s rides including the Dizzy Disk, the Amazing Flying Elephants, Dolly's Demolition Derby, the Scrambler, and the Wonder Wheel. We do visit the Village because this is where the train station is for the Dollywood Express steam engine – a “must ride” for every visit. When Christine was younger, the Dreamland Forest was her favorite area of the park, especially the Dreamland Forest interactive play area and the Mountain Slidewinder water-toboggan ride. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRYMPmhreq-gvi-gjSt_nOv6S04gMXwzdAt94R-ooyShTGPnX5cSRn_wr0jXQ5Z6DRl_taSsfEvZZVhqsCHT3OJZwqoi4GQMgZIZn-2Eomv7w5VPJevZf7PBunfylp7YBQCV3ywZlJ5Z35/s1600-h/p83972-Kings_Mills_(Cincinnati)_Ohio-Brady_Bunch_Kings_Island_Visit.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 234px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRYMPmhreq-gvi-gjSt_nOv6S04gMXwzdAt94R-ooyShTGPnX5cSRn_wr0jXQ5Z6DRl_taSsfEvZZVhqsCHT3OJZwqoi4GQMgZIZn-2Eomv7w5VPJevZf7PBunfylp7YBQCV3ywZlJ5Z35/s320/p83972-Kings_Mills_(Cincinnati)_Ohio-Brady_Bunch_Kings_Island_Visit.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316438982037914914" /></a>Kings Island is another family favorite amusement park, located just outside of Cincinnati, Ohio. The park owns close to 775 acres of land, but only 364 acres are currently developed. Kings Island was opened in April 1972, just before my 10th birthday, and I visited the park for the first time when I was 12 years old. Kings Island gained nationwide attention when it was featured on a 1972 episode of The Partridge Family, and again in 1973 on an episode of The Brady Bunch.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM4xjICPqQ7837H3Mdc-SfaBnbuNsBfsjWsK0N6C78Cj4jK_JcVD6ZtYFY48xjxOeYr9SuVq7UOcGO1IxrV2ShYt3Lb8MUPjPOyk7qTZU_RDYMPmZlRIA_SUBktOqZQHrP6LJeK5DWta-l/s1600-h/eifel+tower.gif"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 237px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM4xjICPqQ7837H3Mdc-SfaBnbuNsBfsjWsK0N6C78Cj4jK_JcVD6ZtYFY48xjxOeYr9SuVq7UOcGO1IxrV2ShYt3Lb8MUPjPOyk7qTZU_RDYMPmZlRIA_SUBktOqZQHrP6LJeK5DWta-l/s320/eifel+tower.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316438751111683010" /></a>The centerpiece of Kings Island is the Eiffel Tower, a one-third scale replica of the original Eiffel Tower. Elevators regularly take patrons up to the top of the tower, which offers a view of the entire park and, at park closing, offers the best view of the nightly fireworks display. Because of my extreme fear of heights, I have only been on top of the Eiffel Tower twice, once on my first trip to the park and once on the first date with my husband.<br /><br />One of the first star attractions of the park was the twin roller coaster, the Racer. The Racer is a traditional wooden out-and-back coaster and is credited for reigniting the second golden age of the roller coaster. To honor the Racer’s staying power, the American Coaster Enthusiasts the Racer an “ACE Roller Coaster Landmark” during a ceremony at the park in 2008, making it one of only 14 coasters in the world with landmark status. Ten years after Kings Island opened, the right car of the Racer was turned backwards and remained on a backward course until last year. For the 2009, both Racers will be once again running in a forward motion.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYKHxF7zEF-A5ySSzi7wI2-z7MG0Ye_QrBmYHNdrm5rh3gXb7nMFNVd3Y1mgykzQN9NNJbEVkYuxPLyhHE8gj4UdhF_5YVg46YbpZ5Bnd3F1fHxo8wTScH8DUiRbxAxJGxtnjrVSmbFgex/s1600-h/beast.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 203px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYKHxF7zEF-A5ySSzi7wI2-z7MG0Ye_QrBmYHNdrm5rh3gXb7nMFNVd3Y1mgykzQN9NNJbEVkYuxPLyhHE8gj4UdhF_5YVg46YbpZ5Bnd3F1fHxo8wTScH8DUiRbxAxJGxtnjrVSmbFgex/s320/beast.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316438399488315858" /></a>My favorite roller coaster at Kings Island is the Beast. When the Beast was built in 1979, it was the tallest, longest, and fastest roller coaster in the world at the time. After nearly 30 years, it still holds the title of the world's longest wooden roller coaster at 7,419 feet (1 ¾ miles). The Beast tracks spread across a densely-wooded, 35 acre site and the rugged terrain adds to the excitement of the ride. Top speed of this coaster is 70 miles per hour and the ride lasts almost four minutes. In addition to two huge vertical drops, the cars go through three dark tunnels and makes a 540 degree helix turn near the end of the line. The Beast has been my favorite roller coaster for almost 30 years.<br /><br />In addition to several more roller coasters – Vortex, King Cobra and Son of beast – Kings Island is home to several water rides and a huge water park featuring several slides, a wave pool, a lazy river and other attractions.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv1iHGtcX36cnebVfSTzPn6R_cpgNIjVm58rcHyBJbmgdmZiLSzI-43bfb3npg4naJ5pppxyBg-uss-nEgcEceJxYdpEFB5cJzwfISMKjv37HCQXJqWCfzY3XcpdBN6yK_HLWKpMRv3WjI/s1600-h/PKI8.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv1iHGtcX36cnebVfSTzPn6R_cpgNIjVm58rcHyBJbmgdmZiLSzI-43bfb3npg4naJ5pppxyBg-uss-nEgcEceJxYdpEFB5cJzwfISMKjv37HCQXJqWCfzY3XcpdBN6yK_HLWKpMRv3WjI/s320/PKI8.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316439216718087858" /></a>Of course, after spending all day enjoying the rides, great food and other entertainment, you must stay until closing time to see the spectacular fireworks display – it’s the perfect way to end a memorable day at the park. <br /><br />I’m not sure I will ever outgrow my love of amusement parks. Not only are they fun places to spend time with your family, but they are great at making you feel like a kid again. It seems like the older I get, the more I enjoy a great roller coaster ride. Now I’m looking forward to spreading this joy to my future grandchildren.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15334812243182354729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137909661947647752.post-77487306359148385252009-04-01T10:53:00.000-04:002009-02-11T11:12:54.086-05:00Most Days Lead to Granny<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjegEPqI3OGSLDLnZftNgQgY5yPcRosd6NH9oBIzjkg9dlP6XeP55ujjskTI-moLiVGK47ILhyphenhyphenTndMCQJ7uz_pgbaBH-YHusHrqGsitUSJhVab6CzkeNbVezmWK_CWgOMsbLS2r4KqwpTVZ/s1600-h/00.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjegEPqI3OGSLDLnZftNgQgY5yPcRosd6NH9oBIzjkg9dlP6XeP55ujjskTI-moLiVGK47ILhyphenhyphenTndMCQJ7uz_pgbaBH-YHusHrqGsitUSJhVab6CzkeNbVezmWK_CWgOMsbLS2r4KqwpTVZ/s320/00.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301572208206561522" /></a>Most days take me back to Granny. There in the warm coziness of her four-room house or outside in her tiny yard, I would follow her like a shadow on a sunny day, mimicking her every action. Granny would be crocheting a new afghan and I would sit patiently with my crochet hook like a surgeon wanting to start a delicate operation as I watched her knobby, arthritic hands manipulate the yarn with the speed of a typist. Granny would complete a row and then show me another stitch before moving on to start another row. I never did learn to crochet as well as Granny, but then again, I’ve never been able to do any of the miracles as well as she.<br /> <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgymmBPMe2wJZsFc3CnybEe5ZdZHrsFor2hNInictaQ7zc8ReZvxZAZJXnSDxiMsKH36MDb6iPTqlkAQGFn-8LY_ovQ9gBulHzGZ4iQBzi8lYqo_3cIOT-j9NGlQaxm5JH7-ltmhyQcwVO0/s1600-h/DSC02845-main_Full.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgymmBPMe2wJZsFc3CnybEe5ZdZHrsFor2hNInictaQ7zc8ReZvxZAZJXnSDxiMsKH36MDb6iPTqlkAQGFn-8LY_ovQ9gBulHzGZ4iQBzi8lYqo_3cIOT-j9NGlQaxm5JH7-ltmhyQcwVO0/s320/DSC02845-main_Full.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301572876854111106" /></a>Baking cookies was always a thrill and Granny never seemed to mind the mess, and believe me, there was always a mess. Mixing the thick sugar cookie batter and then rolling it out on a slab of marble. When the dough was rolled to the right thickness, Granny would hand me a juice jar to use as a cookie cutter. Dipping the open end of the jar into a bowl of snow-white sugar, I would cut out one cookie after another. I was married with a child of my own before I realized you could buy preformed cookie cutters in all shapes and sizes.<br /> <br />While the cookies were baking in the old gas oven, Granny would mix up the frosting, several different colors – red, yellow, green and blue. The green was always my favorite and by the time we had finished frosting each cookie, I would end up with green lips from tasting so much frosting. Back then no one worried about how bad all the sugar was on a growing child and grandmothers were always trying to feed their grandchildren. Later, when my Mom would pick me up, Granny would send us home with a fresh tin of cookies and fresh memories I would look back fondly on in my later years.<br /> <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkhV6DLrsqt_w8_eG1ERo3Jc05mtb06_h-jXmLAMbhfxe6LNjS7vG15KlKYMupLI5nUA8WFaykhZp03lUFYUHyPmLTwsTLPfeDLcsxCuDLhbwDXgXpf6duzBTUJgo4PU3ZriDB9uiaXq9L/s1600-h/graveyard_2860.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkhV6DLrsqt_w8_eG1ERo3Jc05mtb06_h-jXmLAMbhfxe6LNjS7vG15KlKYMupLI5nUA8WFaykhZp03lUFYUHyPmLTwsTLPfeDLcsxCuDLhbwDXgXpf6duzBTUJgo4PU3ZriDB9uiaXq9L/s320/graveyard_2860.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301573049502693474" /></a>Graveyards and cemeteries have always been some of my favorite places to visit, and when I was a child, I loved walking through row after row of old tombstones and statues looking for great grandfather so-and-so or great grandmother so-and-so or aunt and uncle so-and-so. This may be a morbid activity for a young child, but my Granny loved visiting these places and paying her respect for ancestors who have gone before us. Mom would usually take us – Granny, my brother and sister, and me – on Sunday afternoon drives. We would end up in the cemeteries of Deep Creek or Antioch or Bruner’s Chapel and my siblings and I would have free rein to run and play while Mom and Granny would clear weeds away from tombstones.<br /> <br />Although I have a fairly extensive family history I have been working on for many years, I can’t remember exactly who is buried in what graveyard, but I can find each family tombstone from all the cemeteries we used to visit. I remember walking down a deep hillside at Deep Creek, I remember walking up a small rise at Bruner’s Chapel, and I remember someone is buried near the old outhouse at Antioch. My childhood memories can carry me to these places like someone walking in a dream.<br /> <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIQ6FNMt8xMHernaeHZr0NGBfufvqve_ztiLOAoMk8bZ4SEICwlng8aVzulIEzYs7k8fni8R1Znt38y7lKPfAmhG2taxTmG4oMtUE5mB2LNC9mD3gWDLP49NDu0Bjl2Qycn2XRsbG8VDyu/s1600-h/63207846_af152992c2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIQ6FNMt8xMHernaeHZr0NGBfufvqve_ztiLOAoMk8bZ4SEICwlng8aVzulIEzYs7k8fni8R1Znt38y7lKPfAmhG2taxTmG4oMtUE5mB2LNC9mD3gWDLP49NDu0Bjl2Qycn2XRsbG8VDyu/s320/63207846_af152992c2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301572394945382706" /></a>Another autumn adventure occurring on these Sunday afternoon drives was gathering bittersweet vine for fall decorations. Traveling the old back roads to the out of the way cemeteries, we would find bittersweet growing wild on fencerows near the road. Now a day, I would never dream of pulling over to the side of the road and gathering wild vines, but in the late 60s and early 70s this is exactly what we did. We would go home with the car trunk full of bittersweet vines full of bright orange berries. Granny would make wreaths or table decorations to help brighten the house for fall.<br /> <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL-Ff5GtT7YuMFfOUKiKMGuC_P6dU07NOsxkwfG6uNyHXHHYIibV78W7JtvQNtnUjWO74ENHA_a0jYGexbUasjRU_MyhglVElcrYgu-UIEIm_u9dYfebYi7H4xGilq0qUApXsAdYwhUuBX/s1600-h/283479793_bbccb27b15_o.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL-Ff5GtT7YuMFfOUKiKMGuC_P6dU07NOsxkwfG6uNyHXHHYIibV78W7JtvQNtnUjWO74ENHA_a0jYGexbUasjRU_MyhglVElcrYgu-UIEIm_u9dYfebYi7H4xGilq0qUApXsAdYwhUuBX/s320/283479793_bbccb27b15_o.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301572581133477378" /></a>Gathering hickory nuts is another autumn adventure I loved to help with. Granny had friends who owned a farm near Perryville and one field of the farm had five or six hickory nut trees. We would fill several large sacks full of nuts, knowing Granny would use them in her wonderful jam and orange slice cakes, or in fudge or fruit salad. Once we had the nuts back home, we would sit in Granny’s side yard and remove the hulls from each nut. Although not as messy as working with black walnuts, the green hulls would still stain our hands. Mom and Granny would then crack the shell of each nut and carefully work out the sweet meat inside. It would take hours just getting a small bowl of nuts, but we knew the reward was worth it.<br /> <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQrNtrk0xPDmv9qnIG0PFQ8Mxkgs90jGF_JyO18eUWa041WmdVGxca5wENkL5gpjR3Swvbuxbqyfid2PI4RznBJfNUItUQfLYGijdbp8FPFpyipyCf9CziBCQDV4u90_q8ex55VgEqFUNz/s1600-h/colocasia%2520elephant%2520ears.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 261px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQrNtrk0xPDmv9qnIG0PFQ8Mxkgs90jGF_JyO18eUWa041WmdVGxca5wENkL5gpjR3Swvbuxbqyfid2PI4RznBJfNUItUQfLYGijdbp8FPFpyipyCf9CziBCQDV4u90_q8ex55VgEqFUNz/s320/colocasia%2520elephant%2520ears.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301572742266952914" /></a>Although my Granny loved to sew and make crafts, I think her first love was working with plants in her small yard. Elephant ears were one of her favorite plants and she would grow the same bulb over and over again every year. During the summer, the huge green Elephant ears would grow happily in old buckets on the back porch. When the air started to chill in the fall, Granny would drag the buckets to the crawl space below the house. After wrapping the entire bucket in layers of old newspaper, the elephant ears would over winter in the dark dampness of this small cramped space, getting just enough warmth from the furnace pilot light to keep from freezing and damaging the root bulbs. Every few years, Granny would repot the elephant ears, harvesting baby bulbs to turn into new plants.<br /> <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHAmsX1p6Nbsi-IDHqqJuRGsRTicShxeGZGJdznVZafLWVyd85vw3NBFxjFeo-Devy7n37IicVfttBOT1VMbiG_-sPyizLTZxczSZ1VsJ6vA9rdrZaQ5PIFy7qsokeHG9savZxzRC-_LlH/s1600-h/sage.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHAmsX1p6Nbsi-IDHqqJuRGsRTicShxeGZGJdznVZafLWVyd85vw3NBFxjFeo-Devy7n37IicVfttBOT1VMbiG_-sPyizLTZxczSZ1VsJ6vA9rdrZaQ5PIFy7qsokeHG9savZxzRC-_LlH/s320/sage.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301573263503841938" /></a>Granny also enjoyed growing sage in the tiny flower garden between her home and her next-door neighbor’s house. She kept the flowers plucked off each sage plant in order for the leaves to grow big and fat. During the late summer and early fall, Granny would start harvesting the sage leaves, lining them on paper plates and allowing them to dry on the back porch if it was a sunny day, or placing them on top of the refrigerator where it was warm. Granny would then use the sage for making her wonderful dressing on Thanksgiving and Christmas. My mother still grows and dries sage in the same manner as Granny and her dressing is always the highlight of the holiday season.<br /> <br />Sewing, gardening, baking and crafting, in my opinion, there was nothing my Granny couldn’t do – except maybe drive a car. Granny never learned to drive and never had any desire to learn to drive, depending on my Mom and aunt to take her the places she needed to go. It is because of Granny I love to work in my gardens, although my plants never seem to grow as good as Granny’s did. It is because of Granny I love to sew and craft, but my fingers will never be as nimble as Granny’s were. It is because of Granny I love to bake – although I hate cleaning up the mess – but my desserts will never stand up to the delectable sweets she would create.<br /> <br />Granny has been gone for 24 years, but I still think of her often. Although all my memories of her are happy memories, it saddens me to know my children and my husband never got to know her. In recent years the motto, “What would Jesus do?” has become very popular, but whenever I’m in doubt about something, I catch myself asking, “What would Granny do?”Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15334812243182354729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137909661947647752.post-13452527589355622792009-03-01T00:00:00.001-05:002009-01-25T00:22:16.577-05:00School Days, School Daze<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOvck_0mHnHm8tl_k-yZi4oO9sJ_18n72HC-Hee_ZP0MNZ99BLzwpcJqkXUUxeKUZ4P6tMpabp8YsMsEgiJLItM-ovpWqQsKimjmO88ynB-o47nxviwIZt1WsdqHDVDZJT32-2TkRzwJdr/s1600-h/School%2520Days.bmp"><img style="float:center; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOvck_0mHnHm8tl_k-yZi4oO9sJ_18n72HC-Hee_ZP0MNZ99BLzwpcJqkXUUxeKUZ4P6tMpabp8YsMsEgiJLItM-ovpWqQsKimjmO88ynB-o47nxviwIZt1WsdqHDVDZJT32-2TkRzwJdr/s320/School%2520Days.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295096803410194386" /></a><blockquote><em>School days, school days<br />Dear old golden rule days<br />Readin' and ritin' and rithmatic<br />Taught to the tune of a hickory stick ...</em></blockquote><br /><br />Are there people you try to remember more clearly, phantoms you'd like to reach back into the past and take a firm hold of? What do you remember of your early school years? High school years? College years? These are questions my best friend and I were reminiscing about a few weeks ago and I couldn’t believe it has really been 29 years since I graduated from high school? Where have the years gone? In recalling these memories, I was amazed at the details I remembered from certain years, while other memories I only had a vague recollection. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFOEK3rjD_LeRIAhL5yny_hvUOOvLQFh5Xu-0B5GD1CuEAAMY6ifdfiTdQM3b9BavMmWG_JyOQW6beLp1QSPkH-ZjLEZB-qFHNy1g2t6xqLpsBEvyeK4gM1yacCTlTeBSUrk52xv0EqZv2/s1600-h/schooldays.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFOEK3rjD_LeRIAhL5yny_hvUOOvLQFh5Xu-0B5GD1CuEAAMY6ifdfiTdQM3b9BavMmWG_JyOQW6beLp1QSPkH-ZjLEZB-qFHNy1g2t6xqLpsBEvyeK4gM1yacCTlTeBSUrk52xv0EqZv2/s320/schooldays.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295095707562140786" /></a>My first foray into the world of education was kindergarten at Lad & Lassie. I don’t remember much from this time in my life, but there are a few things I can remember with clarity. I remember the cold feel of the leather car seat on the backs of my bare legs as Daddy would drive me to school. I normally wore a skirt or dress with knee socks and this left the backs of my legs exposed to the elements when I would sit down. I remember the "play" we put on - everyone dressing and acting out a part in a circus. My best friend at the time Jennifer "General Foods" and I were the double-headed fat lady - both of us inside the same dress with our heads and one arm a piece in each sleeve. For the life I me, I don’t remember why I called her General Foods, unless it was because Jennifer and General sounded alike.<br /><br />First grade was at Rose Hill Elementary in 1968 - the last year the school was open. At six years old I had this huge puppy crush on Duane, who was an older man, a mature seven years old. I got in trouble one day because I wrote him a note and then pushed it through a crack in the wall between my classroom and his. I was humiliated when his teacher brought the note to my teacher and then proceeded to read it out loud to the classroom! I also remember having a field day or party day, and my Mom got to come and bring my little brother, Brent. I got so upset when Brent tripped and rolled down a hill on the side of the school yard. I was so afraid he was hurt, but he managed to end up with only a few scratches.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1aClEBx7aSmmNmYgD_rJU3ORs7ICFPXOZsETCq5fzLWrK4UdfihNc5JcJlnm81woHC3dJrSZAz-Ug5rr8XUoSSuNBqsZtRqmBqnNpDLwvWC0ahdl9bN61D5yxsuwFBgNYxk48YUD8xvmX/s1600-h/logo.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 219px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1aClEBx7aSmmNmYgD_rJU3ORs7ICFPXOZsETCq5fzLWrK4UdfihNc5JcJlnm81woHC3dJrSZAz-Ug5rr8XUoSSuNBqsZtRqmBqnNpDLwvWC0ahdl9bN61D5yxsuwFBgNYxk48YUD8xvmX/s320/logo.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295095147827908770" /></a>When the Mercer County Elementary School first opened, I was in the first second grade class. I don’t remember much from second grade, but third grade was a different story. I took my best friend's, Ella Jean, turtle out of his bowl on pet day and put him on the table. Then, during the morning Pledge of Allegiance, the turtle walked off the table and fell to the floor - Ella Jean was furious and the Miss McGinnis made me stand in the corner. I also thought it was okay to sharpen my yellow crayon in the pencil sharpener on the wall; this earned me my one and only spanking at school. Actually, I didn’t get a true spanking – the teacher took me into the supply closet and told me to never sharpen my crayons in the pencil sharpener again. She took the paddle and smacked her hand with it twice to make noise and then told me not to tell anyone. After that, Miss McGinnis was my hero!<br /><br />Seventh grade at Mercer County Junior High – we all thought we were so big back then. No longer with the younger kids at the elementary school, we were one step closer to being with the cool kids in high school. This was the year I let several people touch my legs because everyone thought I was wearing pantyhose with my shorts. Fact was I used to tan brown as a berry from days spent in the sun and my legs were just naturally dark. This was also the year I started to seriously keep a journal, something I’ve continued to do for the next 35 years.<br /><br />All four years at Mercer County High School, I dated the same boy and I was head over heels to the point that I began ignoring all my old friends and did everything I could to please my first love. The one person I managed not to alienate was my best guy-friend, Damon – he managed to stand by me no matter what and for that I’ll always be grateful. My only regret from my high school years was not listening to my family and friends when they told me I should not have settled for the first guy who caught my eyes. Oh well, hindsight is 20-20.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM62sFQKgqoNbknCOaLI62HgQ0jqxog5x1oVqefEVTmxNC9DNjxEKYZhhBwfPnjjw64SshfYNlcwo9zC24xgPAJJwBMS-peN43e8XWdt47WyISJuam5_nEU_6j0tlV9r-Ph0mYq0XhcGC4/s1600-h/midway-college_2.gif"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 220px; height: 220px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM62sFQKgqoNbknCOaLI62HgQ0jqxog5x1oVqefEVTmxNC9DNjxEKYZhhBwfPnjjw64SshfYNlcwo9zC24xgPAJJwBMS-peN43e8XWdt47WyISJuam5_nEU_6j0tlV9r-Ph0mYq0XhcGC4/s320/midway-college_2.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295095411951782866" /></a>Going to college as a single mother of two children under the age of six was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life, but it is also the thing I am most proud of. After my divorce I attend the Midway College nursing program. My children started school at the same time – Amber was in kindergarten and Marie was in Head Start. Those three years were so hard, not only because of raising my children, studying for classes and attending clinical rotations, but because I also had to hold down a job. This was 25 years ago and when I look back I don't know how I survived with my sanity intact, or how my children turned into wonderful young women. The majority of the credit goes to my boyfriend, Keith, now my loving husband of almost 20 years. He is the one who kept me going, helping me with homework and entertaining the girls while I studied for tests or wrote term papers.<br /><br />These are just a few of the memories my muse brought up when my friend and I were talking about our school years. The problem is I am nowhere near the tip of the iceberg on this subject. Just looking at school pictures can bring back an avalanche of memories. Capturing these memories on paper may take me the rest of my life, but I think I’m up for the challenge.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15334812243182354729noreply@blogger.com0