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?