Managing Church Records Part 2

Managing Church Records Part 1

Tony Robbins - Make Yourself Valuable (Tony Robbins Motivation)

Obituaries Can Be Time Capsules

I find obituaries to be time capsules, if those writing them put the person and personality of the dearly departed into the obituary.  Here is an example below and if you like it, I can publish her husband's next week.  It is equally interesting.

The Journal's County News Service, 

Melcher, Marion County, Iowa, March 26, 1930

Mrs. A. J. Tickle Aged 93 Dies at Dallas Home
Pioneer Woman was 93; Was Born in Covered Wagon 

Lucretia Helms was born on March 1, 1837, and departed this life at the family home, near Dallas, March 21, 1930, aged 93 years and 21 days.   In May 1861, she was united in marriage to Andrew Jackson Tickle. To this union, eleven children were born, two of whom preceded the mother to the great beyond. John died in May 1926, and Eddie, when 16 days old. 

The surviving children are George of Dallas, Mrs. Mattie Rood of Sedalia, Mo., Julius Tickle of Allerton, Mabel Tickle of Fairfield, Mrs. Barbara Green at home, Elmer of Dallas, Mrs. Raymond Stoddard of Guernsey, Wyo., Mrs. F. B. Wilson of Wheatland, Wyo., and Levi Tickle of Chariton.   Besides the husband and nine children who survive her, thirty-five grandchildren and seventeen great-grandchildren remain to mourn her loss. 

Born in a covered wagon at Davenport, Ia., as the parents were emigrating from Illinois to Iowa; growing to womanhood here in this vicinity of Dallas and Melcher, spending her married years in the same vicinity, living for twenty-three years beyond the allotted time for life, surely this woman spend a long useful life, and benediction to her children.   Her children say of her that she was a good wife and mother, that she lived a cheerful, prayerful, optimistic life. Not a member of any church, she believed in the things of the Kingdom. 

Serviced were conducted by R. V. Hughes at the Christian church on Sunday afternoon, March 23, at 2 p.m. Interment in Dallas Cemetery. 
--------
Note: Obituary shows marriage date as May 1861, but according to Marion County records Lucretia Helms and Andrew Jackson Tickle were married Nov 16, 1861.

Managing Old Records & Scrapbooks

This is an excellent video on how to manage old scrapbooks, record books, and other old books. I studied this in college. This Archivist does an excellent job explaining standard methods, and she tells you why. For this reason, I am posting here for others to learn and benefit.

The Character of Curtis H. Cline

My father used to say, "A man is only as good as his word."  When I was young, that did not make sense to me, but now I understand he was talking about honesty and integrity.  My father strongly disliked corruption, deceit, and dishonesty.  He was a man of principles.  In 1949 or 1950 farmer ordered limestone for their farms and fields, based on a government subsidy they had received for many years.  At the time, my father owned and operated five lime spreading trucks and had six or seven employees.  He was on top of the world.  He and my mother purchased rent houses and Dad, and a couple of his employees built an attractive duplex on Ingram Street in Sikeston.  In 1948, we took a month long vacation out to Colorado in our new Willis Jeep.  Life was good.

Then, after receiving orders for the product, Curtis ordered the limestone from Ste. Genevieve Lime Company. Within a week of receiving the limestone in a hopper railcar on a switch a block away from our home, the government announced that particular subsidy was eliminated for the next few years.  What!  Not only did it effect my father's business but several other lime-spreading companies in Southeast Missouri.  Dad sold his equipment, laid off most of the workers, and liquidated what he could to pay off the business account.  The loss of income mortified my mother and what she perceived was altered social status.  The other lime-spreading companies declared bankruptcy, but not my Dad.  He felt duty-bound to pay back every cent he borrowed toward the lime product. He gave his word to pay for what was purchased, and he did.  It took him ten years to pay back everything, but he did so with a good conscious.

He tithed ten percent of his net earnings annually to the First Nazarene Church in Sikeston.  After returning to the Sikeston area in 1995, many people told me stories of how he helped them over the years.  Curtis had a soft spot for widows.  He helped them any way he could, and rarely charged them full price for his nursery services.  One lady in Benton, Missouri told me that she had used his nursery services for many years to keep her trees pruned and free from insects.  One year, she recalled Curtis stopped to see if she wanted him to trim up her trees.  She was embarrassed to tell him she had no money for the work, and she barely had money for food.  She thanked him and went back into her house.   About an hour later, there was a knock on her door, and there was Curtis Cline with two bags of food and a bucket of apples and peaches from Diebold Orchard stand.  She said he had tears in his eyes when he told her that he knew what it was like to be strapped for money, and he never wanted anyone to go hungry.  She was shocked but grateful.  This act is only one of many stories I heard of his generosity.  He never told anyone about these acts of kindness.  Curtis H. Cline was a devout Christian, fair-minded, and righteous.  I was proud to call him Dad.

          

My Father's Hands

I wrote about my Dad, Curtis Henry Cline, in his early years a few weeks ago.  I want to reflect on him as a father today.  My father was physically strong due to working with his hands.  I loved my Father’s hands.  They were large, strong and tough from hard work.  On the emotional side, he was a tender-hearted man.  He used to read the Herald Of Holiness magazine from our church and tears would run down his eyes when he read of the needs throughout the world, or of an uplifting article.  He often picked me up in his arms and toted me around with him, when I was small, and I could feel the love he felt for me. I was a lucky child. I remember wanting a swing when I was about five years old.   I kept asking him to build me one in my sweetest voice. I knew he worked from sun up to sun down, but I was sure he could squeeze in time to make my swing.  He had a welding shop behind our home, and I guess I thought he would make it there.  One day he kneeled down on his knee to my level and with tears in his eyes said “Margaret if you want a swing as badly as you say I will build you one tomorrow.”  And he did!  He welded a metal bar across the top from our shed to another bar he buried next to our fence.  He hung log chains down from the cross bar to a wooden seat he made for me.  I thought my Dad was wonderful back when I was a little girl, and that he could do anything and continued to think so until he died December 21, 2002, at the age of ninety-one.  Curtis Henry Cline was my first hero.

Another time, I moved to St. Louis, Missouri and rented a small apartment on the third floor of the building.  Needing furniture, I asked Mom and Dad to let me use some of their extra furniture.  They agreed to help me and Dad loaded some furniture in his truck and drove from Sikeston, Missouri to my Aunt Beulah and Uncle Orville’s house where I was staying until I had furniture for the apartment.  He arrived about 10:00 am and we drove from the suburbs to St. Louis where my apartment was located.  I tried to help him move as much as possible, but it seems I was more in his way, with the furniture than a help.  Therefore, he strapped the dresser on his back and walked the three flights of steps to my new place.  He did the same thing with more furniture.  I carried the boxes and bedding.  When he got to the top of the stairs with the last piece of furniture, he stopped and asked me, “how much less are the rooms on the third floor than the ones on the first floor?”  I told him they were $30 a month less.  He said he would pay the difference for me to live on the first floor when I moved again.  He never complained, he only let me know he wished it had been on the first floor.  Whenever I needed anything, he was there for me with his usual smile.  There are many more memories I want to write but I want to concentrate on his ethics and character in the next issue.

Photographing Headstones Can Be a Challenge and a Delight

Like most genealogist, I enjoy visiting cemeteries.  In addition to photographing headstone, cemeteries are calm, serene, and provoke a sense of history.  I produce clear, readable photographs of the headstone I shoot.  I have been asked many times how I get such good shots.  Here are a few tips for visiting cemeteries and producing good pictures of your, and other people’s, ancestors.

1.     Always be aware of your surroundings.  This fact should be obvious, but there are undesirable elements in cemeteries, from snakes, to homeless people, to vagrants.  Take a long look at the area surrounding the section of the cemetery where you will be working before locking your car.  If someone make you feel uncomfortable, leave and come back later.

2.     Take time to enjoy the beauty of the cemetery.  Depending on the covenant or regulations in a given cemetery, many have beautiful artwork or sculpture work as part of headstones.  After you finish your work, take a walk to view the artwork and architecture or layout of the cemetery.

3.     Be respectful of the graves.  Do not step or sit on the stones. Walk, do not run, while visiting or working in cemeteries, and be respectfully quiet.  Do not disturb flowers or other mementos family members left on the grave.

4.     Use the sun. Taking shots at a slight angle can often make an unreadable stone suddenly come to life when the shadow cast in the etched names,  that is unreadable when viewed looking at it directly.  Of course, take photos with the sun at your back.  Cloudy days are better than sunny days at producing good headstone shots, and I avoid taking photos at noon-time because the pictures lack contrast.

5.     Problematic Flowers on Headstones.  Cemeteries or funeral homes often put the flower holder on headstones in a way that they block the view of the name.  When this happens, first take the full headstone shot.  Then, where possible, I temporarily remove the flowers from obstructing the view and take a close up of the name and date.  If it is not feasible to remove the flowers, gently hold the flowers aside long enough to take a photo.  Always return the flowers where you found them

.6.     Focus before you click.  Take a few extra seconds to make sure the picture is in focus before you take your photograph.  If you are using a cell phone to take the picture, two or three extra seconds can make a big difference in the readability of a headstone.  If a photo is out-of-focus, you have wasted your time in photographing a given headstone.

7.     Get out of the shot before you click.  Look critically at your proposed photo before you click.  Is it in focus, and is there anything showing in the picture that should not be there? Is there a shadow on the headstone making it difficult to read?  If anything is disruptive in the shot, move and try different angles. 

8.     Photograph the entrance to the cemetery. Other relatives may want to visit the cemetery, based on your photographs.  By take a picture of the entrance of the cemetery you do two things.  First, you have identified the name, in case you forget it, and second, you have given others a landmark to look for when they visit.

9.     Who is buried nearby?  Chances are that if one of your relatives is buried in a cemetery, then others are too. Take a walk down the row you were photographing, then go over two or three in each direction to see if you see a name with whom you are familiar.  If you do, take a picture while you are there.  Even if it is not an exact match to your family, it can be delete later and you took pro-active steps, just in case it was a match in the future. 

Other Items of Consideration

Set Your Quality of Photo High.   I use Adobe Elements, or like software, to enhance and organize most of my photographs. I adjust the quality on “high” and my Format to “Baseline Optimized,” and adjust the quality of the picture to 600 DPI resolution.

Don’t put off taking photos – I read somewhere that a photo today is worth more than a photo tomorrow.  This statement is true for three reasons.

  ·       Headstones age and with every year they are harder to read. I have a soft whisk broom I use to sweep away debris before photographing the headstone.  It is also better to shoot at a slight angle for readability and aesthetics.

  ·     Everything from vandalism, sink holes, storms than down trees, and more occur and your headstone may not be there a year from now.

  ·    Encroachment of new construction into areas where cemeteries exist. Often cemeteries are buried, without contacting anyone, to make way for new residential or commercial “progress.”

I strongly recommend that you photograph any and every headstone related to your family as soon as possible when good lighting circumstance is available.  Tomorrow may be too late.

        Margaret Cline Harmon lives in Zachary, Louisiana and can be contacted atmcharmon1@gmail.com.

Curtis H Cline – A Great Father and Role Model

This collage covers the early life of my father.  Curtis Cline enjoyed his parents, siblings and grandma Kline while growing up in a beautiful two-story home on the outskirts of Morehouse, Missouri.  He excelled in in his school work, especially mathematics, and wanted to go to college but the Great Depression stopped that dream.  He made All-State in Football and men who knew him from Morehouse High School, and Southeast Missouri said he could have played in the pros. 

Curtis loved his wife, Marie, and their three children and was very faithful to God and the First Church of the Nazarene.  He enjoyed teaching boys Sunday School class and stayed in touch with several of the boys after they graduated and left Sikeston.  Curtis Cline was the Sunday School Superintendent for a few years too.  Most of all, he loved working his mind and body.  He also loved food.  When he went somewhere with the family, often he took his bookkeeping with him because there was not enough time, he said, to get it done if we took time off to do leisurely things.  I remember him leaving the house at dawn and returning after the sun went down.  He was happiest when he was working or eating.  He was also happy when he was with family.  Often, he took his family with him when he drove one of the trucks to spread limestone, and to make collections.  Our family enjoyed eating out at restaurants too and some weekends, several families from church took the Tiptonville (TN) Ferry from below Charleston, MO over to Tennessee to eat catfish.  I enjoyed the ferry ride but I have never enjoyed fish or any food that comes out of the water.  I enjoyed the hush puppies.  I remember the restaurant in Tiptonville was on Kentucky Lake and most of the dining area was screened-in.  Of course, back then there was no air-conditioning.

My father was an excellent role model.  Every Wednesday, he came home at noon, went into the master bedroom, shut the door and prayed for one house.  He also fasted lunch every Wednesday.  Late in life, when he went to the nursing home in Sikeston, I received a call from the Director of the home complaining that he refused to each lunch on Wednesdays.  They tried everything but he would not eat.  They had to document it and could receive bad reviews from the State of Missouri if he did not eat.  I laughed and told her that was part of his religious belief and practice.  I had to send her a note in writing asking that he be excused from eating lunch on Wednesdays.  

He had one speed, fast.  He was funny, without trying to be, he was compassionate and had a temper now and then.  Once the temper exploded, he forgot about what made him mad within minutes.  He held no grudges and was honest as the day is long.  I feel privileged to have been the daughter of Curtis H. Cline.

Next week, I will talk about his middle to late life.

Make It Easy For People to Do Good

One of my many goals is to see all fifty state capitols in my lifetime.  I have seen thirty-four.  On a trip to St. Paul, Minnesota, I visit the state house.  I was impressed with what the people elected to write around the rotunda of that beautiful building.  They quoted one of Daniel Webster's coined phrases - “The proper function of a government is to make it easy for the people to do good, and difficult for them to do evil."                                                                                                           

We cannot have "government of the people, by the people, for the people", without the active participation of those people.   The very essence of democracy is participation.  Back in the 1800s when Henry Clay and Daniel Webster were in the Senate, people with differing opinions debated the issues.  However, they did not try to destroy the other person as they do today.  Many of us are disappointed with the elected officials in Washington, but we need to proactive, in a respectful way, by communicating our wishes and expectations. 

It is time for the far right and the far left to re-learn how to debate and disagree without trying to destroy others, show contempt, and disrespect. We may not agree with everything President Obama does, but he is our elected leader, and we need to respect his position and not degrade, demean, debase, cheapen and devalue him as a person, but especially as our president.  If things continue in the direction they are now, I fear that the disrespectful tone will deteriorate, degenerate and destroy our form of government, as we now know it.  We must reverse the negative and destructive manner of communication.  We must remember that both sides of the political spectrum are Americans first, then they are Republican, Democratic or Tea Party affiliated.

If we are unhappy with Washington bureaucrats, then vote them out!  A swiping change in elected officials would do wonders for our country.  We need citizens representing us, not career politicians and lawyers.  The problem I have seen is that everyone agrees with the statement, EXCEPT, it does not apply to "their" federal Senator or Representative.  Continued re-election is why we have the mess we have today.  We keep re-electing OUR officials and they are embedded in their jobs and worry more about re-election than those they were elected to serve.  

Let us once again elect citizen representatives, make it easy for them to do good, and difficult for them to do evil.  Lastly, let us encourage more diplomacy, and less grandstanding in Washington.  This idea of showing respect applies to the news media too.  Please participate in our governmental process and above all VOTE for the person you feel is best qualified.  Do not side with one side of the political pendulum before examining BOTH candidates running for office.  Daniel Webster was a wise man.  We must protect politicians from themselves, as well as us.  History has proven that too often more than eight years in Washington turns good men into negative, divisive, and too often corrupt.  Let America’s political system return to being diplomatic, not destructive, selfish, and tactless.  Our form of democracy is worth it. 

Margaret Cline Harmon

I Garden Every Memorial Day

   

Every Memorial Day I think of going to a Veteran's Day service, but for whatever reason, I stay home.  It is a tradition that I work in my garden on Memorial Day. I put my hands in the earth and plant beautiful young flowers that grow to bless me and others. I always think of the brave soldiers who gave up their lives for their belief in freedom and their love for America.  Some years it rains on Memorial Day, and I am unable to work in the garden, but my memories and thoughts of the heroes who died for our country is with me all day.

My brother C. F. Cline died from an Agent Orange-related disease. He served in the U.S. Air Force for ten years and was Honorably Discharged in 1967. He died in 2009 and I miss him. He made the ultimate sacrifice for this country. I am proud of him and his sacrifice. He suffered great physical pain from the results to his exposure to Agent Orange. 

 I grow red geraniums at the front of my house and have pots of them at the entry way. On Memorial Day, and on other solemn days, the red flower of the plant symbolizes, to me, the blood that our war heroes shed for our freedom.  I believe that the Lord greets those heroes and says "well-done soldier."  God bless the family of recently fallen soldiers, and God bless America.

Grandma Price-Austill was a loving Grandmother

Carrie Rettig-Price-Austill was my maternal grandmother. Grandma Rettig married Henry Price in 1914.  In April 1915, they had one daughter, my mother Marie, and were expecting a second child in the month of July 1916.  On June 5, 1916, a deadly tornado dipped down on the Price farm in New Madrid County, Missouri.  It killed Carrie Rettig Price's mother-in-law and sister-in-law instantly and severely injuring her husband, Henry Price.  My Aunt Beulah was born eighteen days later, and my grandfather died twenty days later on June 25, 1916.  My grandmother was a widow at age twenty-two with two young daughters to raise. She had a hard life with much work and little security.  Most impressive, she never complained and had a warm, caring, and positive attitude about life.

She briefly married Clyde Austill and, along with her daughters, raised his two sons.  She loved Mr. Austill but he drank too much, and she left him after a couple of years and was again without real means of support.  Upon her death, her two step-sons attended her funeral.  She took in cleanings and did what she could but was often forced to live with one relative or another during her daughters' formative years. About the time they were teenagers, she was employed by the International Shoe Company in Sikeston.  That allowed her to rent her a place, and she was much happier.

 She was a quiet lady who wore a hearing aid most of the time.  When she had her hearing aid in she was soft spoken.  Once Sunday after church, I went home with her for a few hours.  I played near her with childhood toys she kept in her closet for me.  All of a sudden, she said something to me so loudly it frightens me.  My parents said I got up and ran the three blocks home.  She did not have a telephone at the time, so she walked to my house behind me to learn what caused me to run off.  I told her she had never yelled at me before, and it scared me.  My mother laughed because she knew how Grandma talked without the hearing aid.   I think Grandma was embarrassed.  From that point on she never took her hearing aid out around me and I always looked to see if it was in her ear.  Back in the 1940 and 1950s they were worn outside the ear and were about the size of a nickel.

Grandma Price-Austill lived in small dwellings in the time I can remember visiting her.  One place was a small duplex with persimmon trees in her back yard.  She told me not to eat them unless they were dark orange.  One day I was in the back yard, and I just had to try one.  I had waited a long time for those persimmons to ripen.  I got a bucket to stand on, and I picked one that was mostly orange, but it had a bit of green on it too.  Oh my goodness!  That was the worst thing I ever tasted.  It puckered my mouth for hours.  Grandma did not scold me; she just told me I should listen to her the next time she gave me instructions about something. From that day forward I listened to her every word.

In the late-1950s, she moved to an apartment in downtown Sikeston, above the Collins Music Store.  I remember taking a set of very steep stairs to reach her apartment.  Once she opened the door to her two-room, one-bath apartment one was always impressed at how fastidious the two rooms were.  She was a second-generation German-American, and they believed that cleanness was next to Godliness.  You could not find a speck of dust on her floors.  The apartment had a tiny kitchen, with a divider between the small stove, refrigerator, and dining area.  The divider was where she kept her dishes.  The dining area was small, a standard table and chairs would not fit into the designated eating area provided, because space was only about four feet by five feet in size.  Instead of a standard table, she had a fold-down table, and two thin benches, one on each side of the table, where she ate her meals.  The table and benches worked like a Murphy bed.  Not once did I ever hear her complain about a lack of space.  She loved the little place she made her home.

On another of my visits, I remember Grandma taught me to like spinach.  When I was about five or six years old, I was spending another Sunday afternoon with her.  Grandma started cooking supper for us.  The vegetable was spinach.  After she had cooked it, she ate some of it and went on about how good it tasted.  She said there might not be enough for me.   After it had finished cooking, she put a big helping on her plate and a small serving on my plate.  That was not her normal way of feeding us.  I watched her eat it and heard her make noises of delight.  She had me wait until after everything else on my plate was eaten before eating my spinach.  When I finally tasted it, I thought it was the best vegetable in the world.  I still like it today.

She taught me many things in her unique style.  It is odd what we remember about the ones we loved after they are gone.  My paternal grandfather died when I was five, and Grandma Price-Austill was the only grandparent I had the privilege of knowing.  She was not well educated, but had good common sense; she had little in material wealth, but she was happy and a good Christian lady who I loved very much. 

Remembering 1977 TV Commercials

Do you remember TV commercials by what was going on in your life at the time?  This is a second in a series of memories of an unnamed person in various homes.  I did not put this together but received it as a YouTube shared item.  One thing that has not changed is that FOOD is still important to us all and is highly advertised.  There are many of these on You"Tube.  1977 was the year Tom, Tina and I moved to Baton Rouge, Louisiana.

Click on the following link to see how different the TV commercials were in 1977, compared to those of today.  You will need to copy the link and paste it in your browser.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9zzRp-jxx0E

My Mother Had Many Strengths

My mother was born Marie Ruth Price on April 27, 1915, in New Madrid County, Missouri in the area they called Big Prairie.  She was the daughter of Henry Price and Caroline "Carrie" Rettig Price.  Her father was born in Saline County, Illinois to a farming family.  He lived there until his parents moved to New Madrid County, Missouri about 1908.  Henry's brother Hillery Price married Clara Parma in New Madrid County on 17 Feb 1909. Finding this marriage in southeast Missouri somewhat confirms family tradition that J.D. and Anyan Grandstaff Price moved to southeast Missouri around 1908. 

The Rettig family, on my mother's side, were second generation Germans from Evansville, Indiana, and her mother Carrie Rettig was born in Evansville, Indiana among mostly German-speaking family and friends.  Her father Fred Joseph Rettig, born 1868 in Jefferson County, Kentucky, moved to Evansville with this family as a child.   After marrying Anna Krieg, he moved his family to Henderson, Kentucky, and then in 1911; the family moved to Scott County, Missouri near McMullin.  Fred Joseph Rettig was a farmer and died at the age of 77 years old at his son, Otto Rettig's house. Otto’s farm was six miles north of Sikeston, Missouri, on the east side of Highway 61.

So, within three years, both the Price family from southern Illinois and the Rettig family from Evansville, Indiana moved to New Madrid County, Missouri.  One of Carrie's sisters, Katherine, met and married Isaac Brummett, who lived on the adjoining farm to the Price family in New Madrid County.  That is how Henry and Carrie met.  They married within a year and had two daughters; Marie and Beulah Price.  Sadly, Henry was killed from injuries received from a tornado two days after the birth of his second daughter Beulah.

My mother and her sister grew up with a widowed mother who was undereducated and forced to live with one relative, then another, for most of their formative years.  Marie learned many things from her mother, however, including shared values and beliefs like honesty, faith, and the Golden Rule.  Marie Price married Curtis H. Cline November 2, 1935, in Sikeston, Missouri.  They had two sons, Eugene and C. F. Cline, and a daughter Margaret Cline Harmon.  Marie's favorite roles in life was that of being a mother and grandmother.

My mother enjoyed flowers and always had flowers around the perimeter of the backyard.  In the south-western back corner were roses and a bird bath.  On the north-eastern corner, she had her prized hydrangeas. She often cut these flowers and brought some inside the house which made it smell wonderful.

She had a beautiful soprano voice, and I loved to hear her sing around the house and in church.  At one time she sang on the radio on behalf of the First Church of the Nazarene.  She passed her musical talent on to my brothers and me.

She enjoyed visual art and took my brothers and me to St. Louis at least once a year to tour the St. Louis Art Museum.  I used to go antique shopping with her, and she was always drawn to paintings and sculptures.  Today, my brother Gene and I are artists and enjoy sculptures too.

I have fond memories of watching her sew my outfits when I was young.  She sewed beautifully.  I was always well dressed, and my clothes were unique.  I remember one time she was trying on an outfit, and I can still feel the love in her hands as she tried on the dress or whatever the clothing.  That is a memory I will always treasure.

After her children were grown, she felt lost.  She gained weight over the years and was not happy for fifteen or twenty years.  Later in life, she joined the Eastern Star, and that made her happy again.  She enjoyed the fellowship and sisterhood.  It also gave both my parents a conventional outlet to enjoy.  I am grateful for God blessing me with a loving mother who did her best to expose me to many opportunities in life.  I believe she is in heaven with my father now, and they are happy.  Before I know it, I will join them.

Life often gives us a Decoy

Life often gives us a Decoy

Life is seldom what we expect or desire.  Often we get a "decoy" or representative of what we seek, rather than for what we set our hopes.  Most of us set goals and dream, but few put their goals in writing.  Without a dream, there is little hope for the positive future.  Without a written plan on how to reach your goals, you have a slim chance of reaching them.  After I completed this painting, it occurred to me that we often set our goals and desires up on a pedestal - just out of reach.  We need to be realistic when setting goals.  They must be attainable and measurable. 
   

A "decoy" may be easily purchased but to obtain a real bird takes planning, patience, and a time frame for obtaining it.  You must also have the skills and knowledge required to accomplish the goal of catching or shooting a bird.  I continue to build and develop my skills and knowledge in the area of painting.  I am very pleased with the growth this painting exhibits.  I may not be an award-winning artist today, but I have identified areas I need to grow in, made a list of art teachers whose instructions I would benefit from, and developed a written ten-year plan to achieve my goal of being an award winning and prodigious artists.  I began painting three years ago.  I look forward to 2020 and achieving my goals as an artist.    

    

Set goals and then write a plan to achieve them.  Don’t accept a decoy if you want a duck or other bird.  Then choose to maintain a positive attitude and keep a sense of humor just in case life gives you a decoy instead of a bird.

April Showers bring Flowers

Growing up in southeast Missouri we were blessed with a growing season from April through October.  The snow belt ran about twenty-five miles north of Sikeston, Missouri.  I always looked forward to April, when the rains came, and the daffodils popped their heads through the earth.  The arrival of daffodils was uplifting, like seeing a happy smile.  

Around the perimeter of our back yard were various flowers to enjoy.  My mother had a prized red rose bush in the southwest corner.  Near the rose bush was a large bird bath that was often used by the birds in the summer.  I don't remember the name of the variety of rose, but the variety was one that was pleasantly fragrant.  Many days, I went to that corner of the yard to enjoy the smell, look at the roses, and watch the birds bathe and play.

We had several hydrangeas planted on the eastern border of the property.  One was pink, and the others were blue.  Many years had passed before I learned that the type of fertilizer made the difference in the color.  Occasionally, we brought in hydrangea cuttings and made a bouquet for the living room.

In the far southeastern corner of the backyard, tall bamboo cane grew many feet tall.  The best I remember, they grew eighteen or twenty feet tall.  On occasion, my parents cut some canes and made fishing poles out of them.  The problem with the cane plant is that it is invasive and grows where it is not wanted.  It was removed in the late 1950s, and removed again, to get rid of the predatory plant.  My Dad finally had to dig the roots up to remove the cane and to rid the property of the plant.

When I left Missouri the last time, in 2008, my intention was to take a cutting of one of the hydrangeas from my parents home and to plant it in Louisiana.  I failed to do that, but I dug up a bucket full of Liriope (ground cover or border grass) and moved it to Louisiana.  It flourished and over the years I have enjoyed sharing cuttings from the original Missouri Liriope with friends and family. 

Flowers and gardens are to be enjoyed by many and appreciated for their beauty.  The flowers start with the April showers and remain beautiful with daily and weekly watering by people throughout the summer.  Gardening is one of the few rituals still enjoyed reaching back to the medeival times.  For the next few weeks I will Blog about family memories and the joys of memory.

Memories of Sikeston, Missouri

                                         

Most of us who grew up in a small town have fond memories of our hometown.  For me, it was Sikeston, Missouri. We could walk anywhere, anytime and by yourself, if we wanted.  We knew the neighbors on both sides of our house and usually many more neighbors.  If my parents were not home for some reason and I needed an adult, I just went to a friendly neighbor.  We knew all the neighbor kids that went to school with us too.

I have posted pictures to bring back memories of the place.  From the library to the Bank of Sikeston with its painted mural (I believe it is a Thomas Hart Benton mural) on the back wall, to Kirby's Sandwich Shop.  Everyone knew you, and we were kind to one another.

  

Those of us born in the mid-1940s experienced a freedom of movement that children today could hardly imagine.  We could get on our bikes and ride all over town as long as we were home by the time our Mom told us to be home.  I was blessed with good loving parents, but I am sure there was some child abuse back then too.  We just never heard of it.  Not one of my friends talked badly about their parents.  Their siblings were another story.  That has not changed over the years.  It was not perfect, of course.  The relations between Blacks and Whites were not acceptable. Many Whites had a feeling of superiority over Blacks, and I was uncomfortable with that back then, and still am today.  As a child and teenager, you just seem to go with the flow.  Today, I defend my opinion, when different than the majority, in as non-offensive manner as possible. 

   

Who could forget the Jaycee Bootheel Rodeo?  I looked forward to purchasing my western clothes for the rodeo, the Rodeo Parade, and learning who the movie or TV star would be that year.  I wish I had saved some of the programs to remind me of all the stars that appeared at the Rodeo while I lived at home.

    

     

Another great memory is of the Gay 90's Village and all those moving and loud musical instruments.  I begged my Dad to take me there all the time.  We would go out to the Village about once a week.  Sadly, it is gone now, but I am grateful to Mr. Eakins for restoring all those beautiful instruments so they can continue to bring joy to old and young alike.  My husband Tom and I visited Eureka Springs, Arkansas in 2006.  In the lobby of one of their historical hotels stands one of the larger models roped off to the public.  In the front left corner is a sign stating, "purchased from Paul Eakins of Sikeston, Missouri."  Just think, I played the instrument in the Gay 90's Village weekly.  Today, it is by special invitation only.  I think a bit of each of us remains the child from our hometown.  Our hearts skip a bit when we connect to those formative years.

Remembering My First Home with Tom & Tina

I am looking back at some of the homes we owned over the year and found the first house we bought. It was only 1,400 square feet of living area, plus a basement but it seemed big to us when we first bought it. I think our house payment was $88.00 a month when we bought it in 1972. This picture was taken in January 1973. I could not find a front view in the summer. We spent five wonderful years there, and I remember watching Tina walk to the bus her first day of high school. It was sad, and I shed a tear, to know she was growing up so quickly. Thank you, God, for allowing me to retain my memories. The house was located at 13 Gloria Lane, St. Peters, Missouri. The house was active with our daughter Tina and her friends going and coming. My parents came up to visit every eight to ten weeks. Our friends from St. Charles visited often and I remember our New Years Eve party we gave in 1975! That is a story of its own.

I began researching my family in this house.  I had no idea how important genealogy would become in my life.  It led to my presiding over Scott County Historical and Genealogy Society, writing the Scott County Newsletter for five years, and serving on the MissouriState Genealogical Association in Columbia, Missouri for several years.

My father, Curtis H. Cline, planted a tree in front of the house.  We drove by the house in 2006 while we were in the area, and the tree was as tall as the house.  I wish my  Dad could have seen it before he died in 2002.  Tom and I built the house and the three of use visited it every few days until we signed the papers and moved in.  I enjoyed sharing my life with Tom and Tina in this house.  I hope the owners that followed us enjoyed it too.

There is Value in a Smile

I have noticed many times that a simple smile brings hope to those who are hopeless and feel defeated.  It cheers those that have much to be grateful for in this world.  A smile is nature's best remedy for discouragement and depression.   It brings rest to the weary, communicates sunshine to those who are tired and down on their luck.  We have all been there once or more times in our life.   It is imperative to care for our family's emotional well-being above all else.

A Smile is so valuable that it can not be bought, begged, borrowed, or taken away against anyone's will.  The important thing is you must give a smile away before it can do anyone good and it cost you nothing!  What a wonderful gift.
   

Show the tired, the grumpy or sick a smile.  Your smile could make a difference in the other person's life.  Who knows, they may start smiling at others too.  Now, would that not be a blessing?
   

A smile is a frown turned upside down.   We grew up hearing this, so in those days no one smiled at you, stand on your head and look in the mirror upside down - you will smile at yourself.  I learned to turn over my worries to God several years ago, and I have been smiling ever since.
      

Ask yourself what you want your family to remember about you.  Would a SMILE not be a nice thing to have them remember you?  Try smiling...you will be happier yourself and so will everyone else.

Developing Your Family History is Gratifying

To me, family history is the most fascinating story individuals can read. Or, where no family history exists, to discover it for themself and then write it.    
I remember the time I received my first requested military pension record. It was for William F. Cline, my paternal great-grandfather, pictured to the right. I learned that he was five feet ten inches tall, had a fair complexion, blue eyes, and light brown hair. Wow! I am five foot eight inches tall, have a fair complexion, am blue eyed and my hair was blonde when I was younger, and now I am brown headed.
To my knowledge, the best, and often the only place, to gain the knowledge of ancestor's physical description is from military records.
  There are billions of records, including military records, on-line through Ancestory.com, Findmypast.com, WikiTree.com and other on-line genealogy sites. These sites have annual fees to use their alphabetized and multiple historical databases. Are they worth the cost? You bet they are! Experienced genealogist, like myself, remembers the need to get in a car, drive to a distant courthouse, and often courthouses in other states, to learn, or confirm, information on ancestors. Once there, genealogist comb through county record book, after heavy record book, to learn birth, marriage, death and property records on our forefathers. Then genealogist would rent a motel room in the local county seat, or in a nearby town. Many county seats of government are in or near the center of the county and are small towns. Many do not have motels or other services for which most Americans are accustomed. Only once was I lucky enough to stay with a relative I only talked with by telephone, before my visit to where some of my ancestors lived. That was a treat, and I will always remember, and appreciate, the hospitality George and Brenda Kreig showed me in Ft. Branch, Indiana. They own a family farm north of Evansville, the county seat of Vanderburgh, Indiana.
  I am still working on the follow-up Blog of the Price Family that lost their house and the lives of family members in the Killer Tornado back in 1916. With the ability today to view period, and specific newspapers, and federal census records, writing non-fiction histories allows us to learn far more than expected. It is very gratifying to use documents and papers to bring the lives of our ancestors into readable existence. 
  To travel from county to county and other states in pursuit of family history is expensive. When you travel alone, it can also be lonely and costly. With the existence of Ancestory.com and related websites, the family historian can now develop their family history from the comfort of their homes.

1916 Killer Tornado Remembered

    My thoughts this spring, are on the 1916 Tornado that hit four states, including southeast Missouri. After they cared for the injured and recorded the dead, the headline read:

Tornado Killed 30 and Injured 75 in Missouri.

    My great grandmother, a great aunt, and five field hands were among those counted in the dead. My Grandfather, Henry Price, was reported as injured but he died nineteen days later from injuries received that sad, dark day.

     Related tornadoes reportedly killed 83 people in four states, but the number used to report Missouri's lost in that early report was only 14. The other three states experiencing the death and destruction from the storm were Arkansas, Mississippi, and Illinois. I wonder what the final total was after a week of recovery?

     The path of the tornado reportedly started near Jackson and traveled to Vicksburg, Mississippi.  It was next reported as capsizing the Mississippi River Packet Eleanore along the Arkansas banks of the Mississippi River. It then lifted up from the Mississippi River and followed the path of the river a few miles to the west in Arkansas. 

     The deadly tornado happened a century ago, June 5, 1916. One of the results from the storm was that my Mother always felt the loss of not knowing her father who died from injuries received the day the tornado swept the Prices' two-story home off its foundation and into a thousand pieces.  

     After the storm passed, Carrie Rettig Price first checked on her mother-in-law, Cummy Grandstaff Price (my Great-Grandmother).  She found her lying on the ground near the home's foundation.  Carrie soon realized Mrs. Price was dead.

    Carrie then hurried to find her husband, Henry Price. To her shock and horror, she found Henry alive but pinned to a tree by straw through his body. Carrie cried to others family members to help him. She then looked for her thirteen-month-old daughter, and could not find her. A group of surviving family members and neighbors began to search for the toddler.  The group heard a small child crying in a distant field of corn; the searchers followed the cry until they found her, nearly a quarter of a mile away from where she played just minutes earlier. She was scared but alive and well. That child was my mother, Marie Price-Cline.

     Carrie Price was eight months pregnant the day the tornado hit the Price farm.  Her husband was severely injured, and she was frightened and confused.  She looked in the direction of the small home she, her husband and young daughter shared nearby and it was still standing, seemingly unharmed.  She wondered why they fled the small house to go to the larger one.  They thought it would be safer.  They were very wrong.

     The patriarch of the family, James D. Price helped removed his son Henry from the tree.  He prepared his wife for the mortician.  Then he left the group to be by himself and with his thoughts.  He lost his wife, and a daughter-in-law that day, plus five field hands that also had to be prepared for the mortician.  When he returned, the farm was busy with neighbors and others from the area who came to help retrieve what they could for his family.  They also brought food and drink for the Price family, along with moral support.

     My grandmother, Carrie Price, told me the area looked like a war zone.  Carrie went into shock briefly but understood her new responsibilities would not allow for such a thing.  Her dreams were blown away along with the Price house and its contents.  On the 23rd of June, Carrie gave birth to her second daughter, Beulah Virginia Price.  Her husband saw her briefly before he sure come to infection caused by his injuries.  He died June 25, 1916.

    My Mother was always terrified of storms of any kind. Is it any wonder? The wind took more than her father and grandmother in 1916; it took her feeling of security for most of her life; it also made a widow of twenty-two-year-old Carrie Price.  The thought of the loss of her husband and the unknown future without him to help her raise two babies overwhelmed her for months.  Nothing would ever be the same again.  What would she do?