Back in the early 1990s, I was part of a three-person research team working on a project for the local Civil War Roundtable. Our project was to trace the path of an autograph book originally owned by John S. Chapman of Union County, Kentucky. In the course of the research, we became acquainted with Chapman’s grandson, Joe Chapman. “Uncle Joe,” as he was called by his great nephew, Tom Chapman, who introduced us, was a slight man, but tall with courtliness and kindness. He showed us his grandfather’s dress sword, the family Bible, and a photograph of his grandfather. He was the perfect example of a southern gentleman, anxious to please and to put us at ease. At that time, Uncle Joe, who must have been in his early 80s, was still hauling cattle to market.
This morning’s newspaper contains the obituary of Joe Chapman, age 96, who died Friday at a nursing home in Providence, Kentucky. Services will be today at Sacred Heart Church. Rest in peace, Uncle Joe.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
Wordless Again!
Would you believe it - I am completely wordless today. I'll return when those words are available again.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Memories - May Day
Once upon a time, ‘way back about 1950, there lived a little girl with her family in small town America - actually in southern Illinois. One of the most anticipated events to herald the coming of spring was May Day, a day of light-hearted weaving and winding around the tether ball pole on the school playground. A select few of the students, including the little girl, were chosen to dress in bright, homemade costumes to lead the May Day event.
The little girl’s mother, an excellent seamstress, made the little girl’s dress of bright yellow crepe paper. Crepe paper could be used to quickly fashion costumes and it was very inexpensive. Gathered at the shoulders and stitched just so at the sides to allow room for the arms, it hung free to the knees. What a sight it was! The little girl was so proud of this extraordinary costume that she persuaded her mother to let her walk home from school so that all the neighbors along the way could see how pretty she looked.
Being a normal little girl, it wasn’t possible to walk sedately along the sidewalk. No, that wouldn’t do. So, at every mud puddle, the little girl skipped and splattered right through and did a hop and skip on the other side. Unfortunately, crepe paper does not retain its color when wet. It streaks and runs onto everything with which it comes in contact. Unfortunately, too, crepe paper tears easily. With all that skipping and hopping, the beautiful yellow crepe paper dress was soon just a few strips of a sodden mess and the little girl had lovely yellow stripes running down her legs, staining her knees, socks and shoes.
News travels faster than the speed of sound in small towns. The mother received several calls, accompanied by snickering, from well-meaning neighbors about the condition of the little girl’s attire. Needless to say, that was the end of crepe paper costumes for the little girl.
The little girl’s mother, an excellent seamstress, made the little girl’s dress of bright yellow crepe paper. Crepe paper could be used to quickly fashion costumes and it was very inexpensive. Gathered at the shoulders and stitched just so at the sides to allow room for the arms, it hung free to the knees. What a sight it was! The little girl was so proud of this extraordinary costume that she persuaded her mother to let her walk home from school so that all the neighbors along the way could see how pretty she looked.
Being a normal little girl, it wasn’t possible to walk sedately along the sidewalk. No, that wouldn’t do. So, at every mud puddle, the little girl skipped and splattered right through and did a hop and skip on the other side. Unfortunately, crepe paper does not retain its color when wet. It streaks and runs onto everything with which it comes in contact. Unfortunately, too, crepe paper tears easily. With all that skipping and hopping, the beautiful yellow crepe paper dress was soon just a few strips of a sodden mess and the little girl had lovely yellow stripes running down her legs, staining her knees, socks and shoes.
News travels faster than the speed of sound in small towns. The mother received several calls, accompanied by snickering, from well-meaning neighbors about the condition of the little girl’s attire. Needless to say, that was the end of crepe paper costumes for the little girl.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Salad Time!
It’s that time of year when I want - no, I crave - what I can’t have - fresh, home grown tomatoes. Never has the thought of biting into a red, juicy tomato sounded so good and so far away. It’s true that tomatoes are available from other places even in the cold, dreary days of winter, but they aren’t real tomatoes. I think they are really made out of cardboard. Real tomatoes are grown in the ground, nurtured by the sun and caressed by warm breezes.
The best tomatoes come from John’s Island, South Carolina - down near Charleston. John’s Island is the largest producer of tomatoes in this country. I am fortunate that my favorite daughter lives there and, if I can visit during tomato season, she has a bagful waiting for me when I arrive. There is nothing better than a tomato sandwich for breakfast, tomatoes on a salad for lunch and sliced tomatoes for dinner. Yummmm - combine those tomatoes with fresh corn on the cob and a big glass of sweet tea and you have a real, finger-licking meal - no meat needed, thank you.
Since it isn’t tomato season in South Carolina yet, I have to make do with a box of those Santa Sweet tomatoes from the grocery store. Not high on taste, they are still better than the hot house variety from other countries that are stacked waist high in the display cases.
Wishing for spring made me think of tomatoes, which made me almost drool thinking of a good pasta salad. So what if it’s still technically winter! I am going to have pasta salad for dinner - multi-color rotini tossed with Italian dressing (fat free, of course) and chopped Santa Sweet tomatoes, green peppers, onions and a few dried cranberries. It’s not the same as an in-season salad, but it will do until spring comes.
The best tomatoes come from John’s Island, South Carolina - down near Charleston. John’s Island is the largest producer of tomatoes in this country. I am fortunate that my favorite daughter lives there and, if I can visit during tomato season, she has a bagful waiting for me when I arrive. There is nothing better than a tomato sandwich for breakfast, tomatoes on a salad for lunch and sliced tomatoes for dinner. Yummmm - combine those tomatoes with fresh corn on the cob and a big glass of sweet tea and you have a real, finger-licking meal - no meat needed, thank you.
Since it isn’t tomato season in South Carolina yet, I have to make do with a box of those Santa Sweet tomatoes from the grocery store. Not high on taste, they are still better than the hot house variety from other countries that are stacked waist high in the display cases.
Wishing for spring made me think of tomatoes, which made me almost drool thinking of a good pasta salad. So what if it’s still technically winter! I am going to have pasta salad for dinner - multi-color rotini tossed with Italian dressing (fat free, of course) and chopped Santa Sweet tomatoes, green peppers, onions and a few dried cranberries. It’s not the same as an in-season salad, but it will do until spring comes.
Friday, February 6, 2009
I Swanee!
People up north think folks in this area talk funny. They don’t have a clue what we are talking about. To my way of thinking, they have some learning to do.
They don’t know what we mean when we say we are “fixing” to go to town. Why, any fool should know it means we are getting ready and will go “dereckly.” What’s so hard to understand about that?
If I said “It’s coming up a cloud,” do you think they would know that means it’s time to shut the winders and bring in the cushions from the rocking chears on the front porch? Not on your life! They’d probably stand there with their necks all crinked up looking at the sky until rain hits them full in the face.
And if I told them that the young couple down the street “ate supper before saying grace,” do you think they would know it means the unmarried young woman is going to have a baby? No siree!
And they sure as shooting wouldn’t know what my old Grandma meant when she said her next door neighbor wore her blouse “hind part before” yesterday. Why, everybody knows that means she had it on backwards.
I bet if I told them to “Come on back” as they were getting their coats on to go home, they would think I meant to come back right now. Now, you and I know that means to "come on back and see us sometime." Didn’t their mamas teach them good manners?
I swanee! There’s no accounting for some people. They just don’t understand polite English.
They don’t know what we mean when we say we are “fixing” to go to town. Why, any fool should know it means we are getting ready and will go “dereckly.” What’s so hard to understand about that?
If I said “It’s coming up a cloud,” do you think they would know that means it’s time to shut the winders and bring in the cushions from the rocking chears on the front porch? Not on your life! They’d probably stand there with their necks all crinked up looking at the sky until rain hits them full in the face.
And if I told them that the young couple down the street “ate supper before saying grace,” do you think they would know it means the unmarried young woman is going to have a baby? No siree!
And they sure as shooting wouldn’t know what my old Grandma meant when she said her next door neighbor wore her blouse “hind part before” yesterday. Why, everybody knows that means she had it on backwards.
I bet if I told them to “Come on back” as they were getting their coats on to go home, they would think I meant to come back right now. Now, you and I know that means to "come on back and see us sometime." Didn’t their mamas teach them good manners?
I swanee! There’s no accounting for some people. They just don’t understand polite English.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
"Play Like ..."
I have another cousin besides the one who helped me torment our grandmother. This one was on the other side of the family. As almost all of Mother's kinfolks lived in western Kentucky, we spent a fair amount of time there when I was growing up and there was a cousin near my age who had a name that rhymed with my own.
Having vivid imaginations, my Kentucky cousin and I created many scenarios in her side yard. We used chopped wood to outline a square and called it our house or our school. We would point to a corner to indicate where the chair was or the bed or the school desk. We didn't need actual props; our imagination supplied them.
We didn't use words as grand as "Let's pretend" or "Make believe" It was always "Play like ..." "Play like this is our house and you're the mother and I'm the daughter." Or "Play like this is our classroom and I'm the teacher and you're the student." That's all we needed - a few words and our minds were off and running - creating entire scenes we pulled from our memories or imagination.
I haven't heard the words "Play like ..." for a long time, but today I am saying them out loud. "Play like the snow and ice are all gone and everyone has had their electricity restored. Play like it's spring and the flowers are starting to bloom." See what your imagination can do!
Having vivid imaginations, my Kentucky cousin and I created many scenarios in her side yard. We used chopped wood to outline a square and called it our house or our school. We would point to a corner to indicate where the chair was or the bed or the school desk. We didn't need actual props; our imagination supplied them.
We didn't use words as grand as "Let's pretend" or "Make believe" It was always "Play like ..." "Play like this is our house and you're the mother and I'm the daughter." Or "Play like this is our classroom and I'm the teacher and you're the student." That's all we needed - a few words and our minds were off and running - creating entire scenes we pulled from our memories or imagination.
I haven't heard the words "Play like ..." for a long time, but today I am saying them out loud. "Play like the snow and ice are all gone and everyone has had their electricity restored. Play like it's spring and the flowers are starting to bloom." See what your imagination can do!
Monday, February 2, 2009
Five by Five
TwigTalk chose to give me a blog award last week. Because of all the snow and ice we have had, I neglected to acknowledge the award. The compliment is appreciated. Thank you, Sheri.
In accepting this award, I am to list five things I am addicted to. Guess what is Number 1? Yep!
1. Genealogy. My pride, my passion, my profession.
2. Sweet tea. Enjoyed winter or summer; it can't be beat.
3. Road trips. I love visiting courthouses, especially in Kentucky.
4. Facebook. Chatting with friends and relatives, some I have never met face to face.
5. Computers. Could not live without them.
I am supposed to list five blogs I enjoy. This is a difficult task and certainly does not represent all of the ones I enjoy.
1. Genealogy, Middle Age & Life
2. Taneya's Genealogy Blog
3. Genea-Musings
4. Building Blocks
5. Old Salem, Kentucky
In accepting this award, I am to list five things I am addicted to. Guess what is Number 1? Yep!
1. Genealogy. My pride, my passion, my profession.
2. Sweet tea. Enjoyed winter or summer; it can't be beat.
3. Road trips. I love visiting courthouses, especially in Kentucky.
4. Facebook. Chatting with friends and relatives, some I have never met face to face.
5. Computers. Could not live without them.
I am supposed to list five blogs I enjoy. This is a difficult task and certainly does not represent all of the ones I enjoy.
1. Genealogy, Middle Age & Life
2. Taneya's Genealogy Blog
3. Genea-Musings
4. Building Blocks
5. Old Salem, Kentucky
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