Proving Lineage to Miles Standish

From the Buffalo Courrier Express, Buffalo, N. Y., Sunday Morning, May 8, 1927:
"Standish Genealogy Recorded on Historic Quilt
Gives Vital Statistics on Progeny of Famous Miles
"Patches are from dresses belonging to descendants of character celebrated in song and glory.
"Albion, May 7 - Mrs. George W. Shourds is the proud possessor of an old family quilt, the story of which is stranger than fiction.  To tell its story one must go back a the settlement in Orleans County of the settlement in Orleans county of Asa Standish, Mrs. Shourd's great grandfather, for the history of the quilt is Standish history.
"In 1816 Asa Standish journeyed from his home at Benson, Vt., to Orleans.  With him came his wife and seven children.  A number of the children were married and had youngsters of their own, so it was quite a caravan that made the long journey by ox team.  Gaines was at that time the most thriving community in the county and along with many other pioneers Asa Standish took up land in that village.  He and his family settled upon a farm of 365 acrea, the site of which was near the present Transit church.
"Asa Standish was the great grandson of Miles Standish of Colonial fame.  He was born at Norwich, Conn., in 1763.  At the age of ten he moved with his parents to Williamstown, Mass., and later to Benson, Vt., where he lived many years before settling in Orleans county.
"Now it happened that some of Asa's descendants had migrated to California and one of them became desirous of joining the Society of the Mayflower, which she could not do without definite proof that the Asa Standish, whose birth was recorded at Norwich, and the one who settled in Orleans county were one and the same.  Therefore, she employed a renowned geneologist, Mrs. Idah Stowbridge of Los Angeles to assist in the search.  Mrs. Stowbridge wrote Mrs. George W. Shourds of Albion, whom she knew was of Standish descent, asking her help.
"Mrs. Shourds set about her task with a hopeless feeling.  She had been told from childhood of how Electa burned the family records and she felt sure that there was no written proof in all Orleans county that the Asa of Vermont and the Asa of Gaines were the same.
"Finally Mrs. Shourds called upon Mrs. George Mitchell, whose husband was a great grandson of Asa Standish.  Mrs. Mitchell, like all the other members of the family knew of the Miles Standish ancestry, but said that she had no proof.  As Mrs. Shourds was leaving the house she suddenly asked, "Wouldn't you like to see Mother Mitchell's old album quilt?"
"The quilt is a quaint and gay affair with a white background, orange stripes and squares of bright colored calico, pieced in the friendship pattern.  Sewed into each square is a piece of white material with the record of some member of the Standish family written in ink upon it.  It is supposed that the squares are made out of dresses belonging to members of the family and that each one's particular block is made out of her own garment.  The names Standish, Stacy and Mitchell predominate.  Charlotte Standish, daughter of Asa, who married William Stacy, is said to have started the quilt, and her daughter, Maria, who married Azuriel Mitchell, a Baptist minister of Riches Corners, completed it.
"The instant that Mrs. Shourds saw the quilt her eye caught the blocks, "Asa Standish.  Died Sept. 1, 1828.  Aged 65 years."  "Rebecca Standish.  Died April 30th, A. D. 1839.  Aged 74 years."  Inasmuch as the records at Norwich, Ct., gave the date of Asa Standish's birth as 1763, which would have made him 65 years old in 1828, Mrs. Shourds felt sure that here at last was positive proof that the two Asas were the same person.  Furtherwore, although the family had always understood that his wife had been Rebecca Sherwood, there was no record to that effect.  Photographs of the two blocks were taken and sent to Mrs. Stowbridge and these with the necessary affidavits, were accepted as the missing links in the Standish chain of proof.
"Mrs. Mitchell died in 1924.  Before her death she presented the quilt to Mrs. Shourds, giving as her reason the fact she had no children, while Mrs. Shourds has both a son and a daughter to carry on the family traditions.
"Asa Standish is buried in the old Standish burying ground, near the Transit Church at Gaines.  There is no marker for his grave.  If there were, the long search for proof would have been unnecessary.  He was at one time justice of the peace of Gaines, as a time-worn subpoena signed by him shows.  This subpoena was discovered between the leaves of an old justice book of the town of Gaines.  He served in the Revolutionary War, as did his father, Thomas.  Thomas was the son of Samuel, Samuel of Josua and Josua's father was the celebrated Miles of song and story."

Hi, How Are Ya?

I met a fella the other day, we hadn't seen each other in a while, 'n we got ta talkin' 'bout how we were 'n it set me ta thinkin' – not my usual manner of spendin' the day, but I do admit, it was some entertainin'. Seems ta me that there's a certain order of preference in answerin' the question “How are ya?” Here's what I worked out, based on actual live conversation:

1. Ya got ten, fifteen minutes ta spare?
2. Lousy!
3. Not too good.
4. Better than yesterday.
5. I'm alright, so far.
6. I'm okay.
7. Doin' fine.
8. Wonderful!
9. Terrific!
10. Best I felt in years!

So next time someone asks 'n ya don't feel like jawin' 'bout it much, just give 'em yer number. Who knows, it may be the same as there's.

The Good Old Days

While many young men and women were in the service in 1943, those on the home front had some rules to follow to help bring the war to a close. Here are some “Rationing Reminders” excerpts from a December 1943 newspaper:

PROCESSED FOODS - Processed foods rationed under War Ration Book 4 are canned and bottled fruits, most canned and bottled vegetables and vegetable juices, all frozen fruits and vegetables, all dried beans, peas, lentils, etc.

MEATS, FATS AND OILS - Meats, canned milk, fish, fats, most oils and cheeses are now under point rationing.

SUGAR - Coupon No. 29 in War Ration Book 4 is good for five pounds through January 15. Additional rations up to 15 pounds per person for canning may be applied for at any time during the canning season.

AUTOMOBILES - 1941 models driven less than 1,000 miles may now be purchased and used in gainful occupation without application to rationing boards for certificates. New cars costing over $2,500 are unrationed and may be sold to anyone having an unserviceable car at present, regardless of occupation.

GASOLINE - A coupons are good for three gallons; new B and C coupons are worth five gallons each. . . Farmers may now obtain gasoline for their tractors, engines and other non-highway equipment for a period of six months instead of three months, as formerly.

TIRES - Motorists holding only basic rations are not eligible for new or used tires. Drivers with total rationed mileage of more than 120 miles per month but less than 601, may obtain a certificate for a Grade III tire. Only C book holders who drive more than 600 miles a month may obtain certificates for Grade I tires. Owners of recappable tires should have them recapped at once.

SHOES - Stamp 18 in War Ration Book 1 is good indefinitely for one pair of shoes in any store that sells shoes. Stamp 18 is transferable among members of a family living in the same household and related by blood, marriage or adoption.

FUEL OIL - Period 1 coupons, good for ten gallons a unit for household use, are good through January 3. Period 2 coupons also are valid and will remain good through February 7; they, too, are worth 10 gallons.

ANTHRACITE COAL - Rationed by the trade, but not through rationing boards.

STOVES - Most common types of coal, wood, gas and oil stoves are obtainable only upon issuance by local ration boards of certification based on proof of need.

BICYCLES - Pupils who need bicycles for travel between home and school are eligible for purchase certificates providing the daily mileage is at least three miles and the bicycle is used at least five days each week. Anyone gainfully employed or doing voluntary work contributing to the war effort or to public welfare, who needs a bicycle on his job or for travel between home and work, can qualify for a purchase certificate upon meeting the same requirements.

HNY

The stitches are out!  Now I'm ready for a new year.  May you all have a happy, healthy 2014!  May all your goals be reached.

Today, 30 December 2013

I had my 4th shot of Hyalgan in my right knee this morning.  One more to go.  It's supposed to replace the natural lubricant in the knee joint that has disappeared over the years.  Then tomorrow the stitches come out from my back.  Nurse Shirley has been doing a wonderful job of cleaning and bandaging it for me.  I started our monthly job of printing the Villager magazine, then turned over the reins to Shirley while I went to the doctor's, then came back just in time for the last 30 (of 500 total) to be printed.  Lunch next.  And now to relax.

After and Further After

Here are photos of the site of the melanoma on my back after the biopsy was taken and then after the excision and stitching of the wound.  The melanoma was about the size of a quarter; the redness above the site is an allergic reaction to the tape used on the bandage.

To Card or Not to Card

The folks in the younger generation are arguing amongst each other whether or not to send Christmas cards to family and friends.  I think if you can’t spare a few minutes to sign a card and a few dollars to send one, then you need to reevaluate your priorities.  Phone calls fade from memory, but a card is a physical reminder that you are special to someone.  That's not to say that phone calls aren't important; they are.

One is Not Enough

I've been reading a lot of P. G. Wodehouse's books lately.  I like his type of humor.  One thing I've noticed is that he seems to feel that three or four are better than one, whether it's adjectives, paragraphs or sub-plots.  Try one of his "Jeeves" books.  You might get hooked, too.

Straining the Brain

I decided to write my memoirs.  Should be easy, right?  So far, I have 6 chapters started, including one titled "Afterthoughts."  The first chapter takes me through the first ten years when we lived in Batavia, NY.  The second deals with the early years in Rochester, NY; the third with more Rochester stuff.  The next two continue on into college.  What I find is that I'm continually going back to "finished" chapters to add a person or event that has just come to mind.  And I find myself jotting down notes as reminders of things while I'm watching TV or reading a book or out walking.  It's surprising to find that my brain is able to dredge up from the depths all those things that haven't been at the surface for decades.  I use photo albums as aids and sometime in the future I'll try to find journals I've kept sporatically.  I wonder if any of the people from my past have thought of writing their memoirs.  Try it, you'll re-learn things about yourself you've forgotten.  Happy memories!

Progress

I just got back from getting a haircut.  While I was waiting, I counted 36 shelves loaded with products for the care and cleaning of ones hair.  Back in the olden days, I remember only Ivory shampoo.  In my high school days, some guys used some sort of goop to get their hair into a fancy wave.  I guess the industry took off from there.  But 36 shelves worth? 

The Quest For Family

It was many years ago (about 1951) that I asked my parents for information about their families.  What they wrote down was very limited, not more than one or two generations past.  My mother had her parents’ Marriage certificate, her own Birth certificate and her mother’s Bible.  My father had his Birth certificate, his parents’ Marriage certificate, a Deed to the cemetery plot where his mother was buried and his grandfather’s Naturalization certificate.  Most of that information lay dormant while I was raising a family and establishing a career.  Occasionally, a new document or piece of information would float my way, including a letter confirming my maternal grandfather’s naturalization on Sept. 18, 1899. The death of my parents provided me with a few more items, including my mother’s photograph albums, neatly labeled with names and sometimes dates. 

It wasn’t until the late 1970’s that my wife, Shirley, and I started a more rigorous quest.  We attended a lecture about genealogical research given by a Mormon couple at our local library in Ontario, New York.  We have since scoured the Local History section of the Rochester (NY) public library, viewed the local Historian’s files and original church records at Lyons, New York, traveled to Salt Lake City to the great archives of the Mormon Church, spent time researching at NEHGS in Boston, visited many historians’ offices in the northeast, and eventually spent time in England, Germany and France.

One of my early memories of school is hearing the story of the Mayflower, Plymouth Rock, the Pilgrims and the first Thanksgiving feast.  After the story, we were to draw and cut out images of Pilgrims, Indians, turkeys, whatever we thought was representative of that story.  I cut out a pair of Pilgrims, little knowing my future quest would bring me to Plymouth Rock and the Pilgrims first settlement.  What I later found was a link through my paternal grandmother, Lennie Mann, to her paternal grandmother, Nancy Standish, which led directly to Myles Standish.  Taking this news to a family gathering, I made the announcement of this discovery, to hear my brother say: “I knew that.  Dad told me that years ago.”  Shirley and I have since visited the Plymouth Rock area including the Standish monument.  We have had the pleasure of holding the “Standish Quilt” housed in the DAR Museum at Albion, New York, which was used to make the genealogical connection from Myles to Asa Standish, who settled near Albion.  A distant cousin provided copies of family information from Nancy Standish’s Bible and two photographs of Nancy, which have been added to her Overview on Ancestry.com.  We also have visited the Standish Cemetery where Asa and other members of the family are buried.

Based on my research, I found that members of my mother’s father, Henry Göbel, came from a small village in Germany, named Breitau, and that my mother’s mother, Clara Marie Steinmetz, was born in Kassel.  My father’s father, George Müller, came from Lembach, a small village in France near the German border; he was German, although the Naturalization Certificate reports him as a citizen of France.  Shirley and I visited these places in 2000,  and I left a copy of my family tree with the minister of the church in Breitau.  Subsequently, I received an e-mail from the son-in-law of my second cousin, Martin Heinrich Göbel, who still lives in the family homestead.  We made arrangements to visit and two years later we were sitting in the Göbel house, being treated like royalty.  We met other members of the family living in the area, and I had a telephone conversation with a cousin with whom I had corresponded in the late 1940’s.  I have since found on Google Earth that the Maginot Line ran quite close to Lembach and there are still remains of that fortification in the area

In 2004, we visited England to trace Shirley’s roots, taking us to Doncaster,  Farnham, Ewell, Hatfield, Fishlake, Bramouth, Snaith, Rawcliff, Whitgift, Whitby, Plymouth and Southampton.  Through Ancestry.com, Shirley has contacted a cousin in England and they have visited us to look at houses and gravestones in Rochester, New York.

Because most of our families lived in the northeast, we have used fultonhistory.com extensively to find newspaper articles about them.  Many official documents – birth, death and marriage certificates - were found on the microfilms available through the Mormon Church Library; these have provided information about other family members.  The church archives in Rothenburg, Germany sent records of the Göbel line from their microfilm files.  I was able to copy records from the original church books in Lyons, New York and Gerstungen, Germany.  The tree keeps growing.

Of course, we have hit brick walls.  For example, I have not been able to find the parents of my 3^rd great grandmother, Martha Conklin, nor for her husband, Thomas J Patterson.  Likewise, the line through Jesse Mann, Jr. to his father, Jesse, Sr. to his father, Amos Mann, leads to some mystery; there are several possibilities for Amos, none of which I can conclusively claim.  So the search continues.  To date, there are over 3600 people in my Ancestry.com file – “Miller/Mann/Goebel/Steinmetz Family 2006.”  It’s a public file, so take a look to see if we have anyone in common.  We could be cousins.

 

A-Rod and the New York Yankees

Even though nobody has asked me, I’ll tell you anyway what I think about A-Rod and the New York Yankees.  There seems to be a lack of ethical standards in that group.  A-Rod was found guilty of using performance enhancing drugs and was suspended by the baseball league, acting in the best interests of professional baseball.  A-Rod has appealed the suspension, ignoring his guilt on the charges.  The Yankees management has ignored his guilt and continues to play him, when he should not even be sitting on the bench.  What kind of message do those actions send to our youth? 

The Education System

Think the educational system is in trouble?  We started out in Grammar School, where they taught us, among other things, grammar.  If we passed all the strict tests, we finally made it to High School.  After a while, the starting point was Elementary School, where they taught some things, mostly elementary stuff, Watson -  maybe even grammar.  High School was broken up into Middle School and High School.  Why it didn't become Low, Middle and High, I'll never know.  Finally, we have K-12, and it's anybodys guess what's taught there.  Somewhere in that progression of name changes, our federal government decided we needed a Department of Education.  What I'm trying to understand is - what did the millions of dollars we spent for that department do to improve our educational level?  Anybody?

Our Postal Service

If you ran a business, would you like a group of hundreds setting the rules for you?  That’s exactly what the Postmaster General faces.  Every year, he oversees a business that loses money, with no hope of changing conditions within the Postal Service that would make it at least break even.  Take away the restrictions imposed by Congress and he would have a good shot at running in the black.  Would that ever happen?  Ho, ho, ho, naïve one!

I Wonder

I wonder if the people living as the Ice Age was ending ever thought about global warming.

Giving Thanks

I’d like to thank the person who introduced Frank Arthur Miller to Wilhelmina Henrietta Goebel.  Thank you, whoever you are.  I’d like to thank  Frank for proposing marriage to Wilhelmina.  Thank you, Dad.  I’d like to thank Wilhelmina for accepting Frank’s marriage proposal.  Thank you, Mom.  Without those three actions, neither my brother, Fred, nor I (and our families) would exist, so next time you think of us, say a word of thanks to “whoever”, to Frank and to Wilhelmina.  Thank you.

Fuzzy

When the children were young, we recited this verse:

Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear.

Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair.

Fuzzy Wuzzy wasn’t fuzzy,

Was he.

My grandfather, William Francis Miller, Sr., was called Fuzzy because he always had his hair trimmed close to the skin. (In his older years, his youngest son, Uncle Bill, would trim it for him.) He was born in Lyons, New York, the seventh of eight children, but spent most of his life in Batavia, where he raised his family. There were 10 children, 7 of whom grew to adulthood. His wife, Lennie, died from complications during childbirth of the 10^th child, Thomas, who was stillborn; daughter Rachel died at 4 months from cholera; their first daughter, Violet, died in her first year, also. He was a lather, said to be the fastest in that area. Before plaster board, lath strips (about 1 inch by ¼ inch) were attached to the studs of a building to hold the plaster. The laths were spaced about 1/4 inch apart so the mason could force the plaster through the spaces, which allowed the plaster to stick to the wall. I can imagine it was difficult to keep the family together in those days while working throughout the county. His sister-in-law wanted to take some of the children but he refused. The family grew up relying on one another for support. In 1893, he was kicked in the leg by a horse; the break was not set properly and caused him to limp and use a cane. In 1905, he made the newspaper by defending his 16-year old daughter from the unwanted attentions of a stonemason; he was fined and his revolver confiscated. In his elder years, Fuzzy lived with his oldest daughter in Rochester, where he passed away at age 93.

Rochester After Dark

Joe Squeezer owned a bar on Lake Avenue, near where State Street ended and Lake Avenue began.  He featured live music; the stand was in the middle of the bar, up so everyone could see.  We were just old enough to be legal, drank 7 & 7 and smoked Raleigh cigarettes – you know, where there was a coupon in every pack you could save up to send for merchandise, but we never seemed to save up enough for the good stuff.  When we walked in and saw the organ on the stand, we knew it was Doug Duke and it was gonna be a great set, with those sounds only Doug could coax out of the organ.  Some jazz, some danceable stuff.  Our dates didn’t like that we only wanted to watch and listen, so we tried to keep them occupied with stuff like who was that in the back room who didn’t want anyone to see who they were with, or who was the doll in the fur that just walked in and who was she with and all kinds of things like that.  We were busy with the music.  And sometimes it was a piano and Joe Mooney up from Florida for the summer.  Joe was to the piano as Duke was to the organ.  Pure rapture.  Smokes and 7 & 7 and live music.  Life couldn’t be any better than this!  Afterwards, we’d head to Cutali’s, before he moved south, for spaghetti and meatballs and a glass of beer, just around the corner from Sibley’s.  Rochester after dark, in the 50’s, was a great place to be and we made what of it we could.

Technology and I Have Parted Company

Technology and I have recently parted company. It was beginning to tire me watching as things kept going by faster and faster. We signed on together when a crystal, cat’s whisker and head phones were required to listen to a radio station; when airplanes were guided from one beacon light to the next; when phonograph players needed to be wound by hand and the Bakelite records were one-sided. Placing a telephone call required interfacing with an operator; when pen and ink wells were on our school desks; letters (remember those?) were either hand-written or typed on a manual typewriter. You begin to get the picture?

As we proceeded, vacuum tubes then transistors and integrated circuits enabled radios to grow smaller, televisions to grow bigger and thousands of songs to be carried around in the palm of my hand. Telephones moved from the wall to everyone’s pocket or purse and even took photographs. Then came fountain pens, ball point pens and even pens that could write under water; I never felt the need for one of those as every millisecond of being under water caused too much panic for me to want to capture my thoughts for posterity.

Airplanes are now flown by computer (I always say a prayer for the programmers that they’ve got the correct code in the proper order) based on information from space satellites. Computers grew from using our fingers to abaci to adding machines and now the hand-held devices that do everything but drive the car. And whatever happened to slide-rules?

So I got off the train with my HDTV, DVR, HP computer with Windows 7, cell phone that doesn’t do text messaging or e-mail but can take photos if I could ever remember which buttons to push and, oh yeah, a DVD player and VCR player that aren’t plugged in because the instructions are written in some sort of code. But I do know how to use the word processing capability of my computer which is how I’m able to let you know that technology and I have recently parted company.

One of "The American People"

Remember back a short while ago when the candidates were talking about what “the American people” wanted?  Well, I’m one and I thought I’d have a go at stating for the record just what it is that I want.

 

First off, I want the two Senators from each state to share an office.  Regardless of political affiliation, they were elected by the voters of their state to work for the best interests of that state.  In order to do that they should be in the same room working on common problems, not in separate buildings where who knows what the other Senator is up to.  Work in the same room!  No walls separating their desks!  Each able to share with the other!  And look each other in the face!

 

Next, the two Senators from each state should have desks next to each other on the Senate floor.  No more of this “across the aisle” foolishness!  Work together!

 

As for the House of Representatives, the same restructuring – all the Representatives from each state in a single room (some will be LARGE as in the case for California) and all sitting together on the House floor.  How can they possibly work on common state goals if they can’t interact with each other?  How can they possibly agree on common state goals if they’re separated by office and building?

 

Simple solution?  I think so.  Achievable?  Not with the current thinking in Washington.

Autumn

This is the time of year when we eat breakfast on the balcony.  It may last for only a week or so before we shift to lunch out there, but it's very enjoyable while it lasts.  People up north are closing their pools and getting out their bowling balls and parkas, while we look forward to walks out-of-doors during the middle of the day.  Life has a different perspective depending on which part of the world in which one lives.

A New Path

Yesterday, I started down a path new to me but one which many others have trod.  The doctor said the biopsy was positive and I have cancer of the urinary bladder. The first treatment was yesterday.

The procedure is: check my urine for bacteria, if any, abort.  If OK, drain bladder via catheter, add BCG in 50 cc saline solution (about a large shot glass).  Go home.  Lie on all four sides, about 15 minutes each.  After 2 hours, empty bladder.  Resume normal eating and drinking except no caffeine or alcohol for 24 hours.  So far, there have been no after effects.

Treatments will continue for five more weeks.  Three to four weeks after treatment stops, an examination will be made to assess results. I think they found it early enough that there shouldn't be any problem in erasing it.

Emotional Music

Bruce Pulk, a percussionist for the Phoenix Symphony Orchestra, recently gave a talk about Bohemian Rhapsodies at Westminster Village.  The last orchestral piece he played stirred us emotionally and was variously described as a violent storm, the destruction of a village, inner turmoil, etc.  Afterward, I talked with him about how emotional I felt when listening to Symphony No. 7 – the Leningrad Symphony by Dmitri Shostakovitch.  I related the music to the war years when the German army had besieged the city.  Bruce encouraged me to read Testimony: the Memoirs of Dmitri Shostakovitch  by Solomon Volkov to gain an understanding of the origins of the symphony.  It turns out that I was way off base, that Shostakovitch had begun the work as a tribute to the people of Leningrad who had suffered through the purges and starvations of the Stalin era leading up to the siege of the city.  That throws a completely different light on the music, but certainly does not diminish the emotions the piece stirs; it only redirects the origin of the suffering to Stalin, who had no compunctions about torturing and murdering his own countrymen.  One can only hope that those days of terror are gone from Russia forever.  In any event, I encourage you to listen to the complete symphony and analyze your emotional reaction to the music.

Art?

I've tried something new for my great-grandchildren.  Hidden in the squiggles is a message that I hope they can find.  I put two up recently and my granddaughter was able to find the message for her son too quickly.  Here are the original and the message.

How old?

Tomorrow my body turns 81 years of age.  My brain isn’t so sure.  Sometimes, it’s 16 and dishing up ice cream cones at Bowker’s Dairy in Rochester, New York.  Or it’s 58 and hauling a travel trailer into the Valle Del Oro park in Mesa, Arizona.  Wait a minute, it’s really 21 and in a cap and gown in Stillwater, Oklahoma, waiting in line for that diploma.  Oops, it’s 35 and camping in the Adirondack Mountains with my brother and our sons, looking for the elusive trout.  Well, actually it’s 80 and waiting for all the fireworks to celebrate the eve of my birth.  Happy Fourth of July, everyone.  How old is your brain?

Meteorologists Have Gotten Lazy Lately

Meteorologists have gotten lazy lately.  It used to be, not too long ago, that the rule for determining when the monsoon started here in the Valley of the Sun was when the relative humidity had reached 55 for 5 days in a row.  Now, it has changed to the 15^th of June.  So what happened to cause the change, you ask.  Well, here’s what I think.

Tom, Dick and Mary, all esteemed meteorologists, were gathered around the office water cooler one scorching hot June day, discussing various and sundry meteorological matters when their boss came along and reminded them that it would soon be time for the annual monsoon decision.  Their conversation went along these lines:

Tom:  Oh rats, now we’ve got to get out our charts and start keeping track of the relative humidity.

Dick:  Yeah, it sure does louse up the day to have to go outside with those dumb equipment things.

Mary: You mean the humidity measurer doohickeys?

Dick:  Yeah.  I can never remember from one year to the next how to work the dumb things, let alone where we stored them.

Tom:  And we never can get anyone else to go out and do the measuring for us.  There’s got to be an easier way. 

Mary:  Maybe we can somehow come up with a better formula, like after it rains two days in a row.  That would make it easier.  We wouldn’t have to use those dumb charts for such a long time.

Tom:  We wouldn’t even have to go out, we could just watch out the window for the rain.

Dick:  I’ve got it!  Remember how those guys over at Stonehenge figured out the solstices were all tied to calendar dates, like December 21^st and June 21^st and, um, those others.  Why can’t we tie the monsoon to the calendar?

Tom and Mary, in unison:  Great, Dick, you’ve hit on the solution.

Dick:  Okay, now what date should we use?

Mary:  Well, today is the 15^th of June, it’s right in the middle of the month, easy to remember, why not use it?  And besides, it usually rains sometime around now, according the local paper.

Tom and Dick, in unison:  Right!  Let’s go tell the boss how we’ve managed to make the work around here simpler for everyone.

And that’s the way it was one day at the meteorological office water cooler.

It's Summer, Tra La

Summer began on Sunday here in Westminster Village.  That's when it was too hot to sit out for breakfast.  It was 80, and the mornings will stay in the 80's until a monsoon raises the humidity and lowers the temperature.  Or raises the temperature.  In any event, we're in for the duration.

One or Two?

Clay Thompson writes a feature for the Arizona Republic newspaper called “Valley 101” in which he attempts to answer questions submitted by his readers on any subject.  Recently, someone innocently (we assume) asked whether there should be one or two spaces at the end of a sentence.  I don’t remember the answer he gave, but apparently it caused a flurry of responses.  A large number of readers questioned his intelligence, which happens quite often, by insisting that one space is the correct number, citing various epistles such as Wikipedia, the Encyclopedia Britannica, Roget’s Thesaurus, and various English teachers from the far distant past, to justify their position.  An equal number of irate readers said that two was the only true answer, citing the very same epistles, and emphasizing the level of his incompetence as shown by his response.  He has since asked that we are free to use one or two, whichever suits us, and to please consider the matter closed, as he is tired of his mail being cluttered with angry threats and comments about his manhood.  So please don’t write him (clay.thompson@arizonarepublic.com) to join in the fray.

I myself have used two ever since I was weaned away from cursive writing and was sat down behind a keyboard, be it typewriter (remember those?), word processor or computer.  There’s something about automatic spacing using two empty spaces at the end of a sentence that appeals to my esthetic nature.  So whatever your preference, one, two or whatever, count me as a “two spaces” guy, and don’t bother trying to convert me.

Patio Time

This is that time of year when we open the patio doors when we roll out of bed.  We have time for a cup of coffee and to read the paper before the temperature drives us indoors.  It won't be long, though, before it'll be too warm.  A short period in the spring and then again in the fall.  So we soak it up while we can. 

Jerking Sodas

The hardest times were the hot, humid days when families would crowd around the counter, all wanting me to serve them their ice cream cones first.  The frustration was twofold; first, trying to decide who was next, and then, trying to hold up to four cones in one hand without crushing any before they were handed over to the eager eaters.  The best times were after all the orders were filled and we could go in the back where the ice cream was coming out of the mixer and we were free to sample the soft, creamy delight.  The year was 1947, the place was Rochester, NY, the store was Bowker’s Dairy Products and I had just finished my junior year of high school and had my first paying job. 

Soda Jerk.  It doesn’t sound like much, but it was a life of adventure for me; a place to serve the paying public; a place to meet girls; a place to satisfy my sweet tooth for free.  Let me explain that last part:  we were told when we were hired that we could eat all the ice cream we wanted as long as the customers were served; that if we made a mistake on an order, we were free to put it aside for future consumption.  How close to heaven could this be?

It didn’t take long to learn the various recipes.  Chocolate milk shake: milk up to there in the container, 2 scoops chocolate ice cream, 2 squirts chocolate syrup, put on the mixer, then pour into a tall glass.  Lime soda: 2 squirts lime syrup, soda water up to there, 2 scoops vanilla ice cream, stir and serve.  Black and white sundae: one scoop vanilla ice cream covered with chocolate syrup, one scoop chocolate ice cream covered with marshmallow syrup, whipped cream and a maraschino cherry on top.  And so on.

It was a fun time: good music on the jukebox; friends dropping by; a cool place in the summer heat; and all that ice cream in all those wonderful flavors!  My favorite was any kind I happened to be eating at the time.  Well, enough of the reminiscing, time to hit the Garden Café for a scoop or three.  Happy sundae!

The Standish Burying Ground

From The Standard, Holley, N. Y., October 23, 1930: "Standish Record Proved By Writing On Quilt
"From its organization, the members of Orleans Chapter, Daughters of the American Revolution, have been keenly interested in the marking of the graves of the Revolutionary soldiers buried in Orleans County. Sunday afternoon the grave of one of the most interesting of these old heroes, Asa Standish, great-grandson of Miles Standish of Colonial fame, was marked with simple and appropriate ceremonies and the resting places of four 'real' daughters received similar honor. A real daughter is the daughter of one who fought in the War of the Revolution.
"The graves of Asa Standish and his daughter, Electa, both lie in the old 'Standish Burying Ground,' near the Transit Church at Gaines. The marker that was placed on Asa's grave Sunday is the first it has worn. Had there been one there before, one of the most interesting searches yet known to genealogists, would never have taken place.
"The story of the effort to find the 'missing link' in the Standish chain of descent is now a matter of history. Again and again one has heard of how the descendants of Asa Standish, though they knew they were descended from Miles Standish, were unable to furnish concrete proof of that descent, and became known as 'the unplaced descendants of Miles Standish,' until Mrs. George Shourds of Albion, Asa's great-great-granddaughter, by chance came upon an old family quilt, into which was sewed a block giving Asa's birth. This block of cloth is the only written record concerning Asa Standish and it is interesting to note the lack of evidence concerning him is due to the fact that this very Electa, whose grave was marked Sunday, in a spell of New England 'ridding up' the house, burned all the records as so much trash.
"The ceremonies at the grave of Asa Standish were impressive. Following the Assembly Call by Sheret Post, American Legion, the invocation was given by the Rev. A. L. Pollock of Gaines, a World War veteran. America was sung by the assembled crowd, and Troop 92 of the Boy Scouts then gave the Salute to the Flag and the American's Creed. The bronze marker was then presented by Mrs. Avery V. Andrews, Regent of Orleans Chapter, Daughters of the American Revolution and Cleon Standish of Medina accepted in the name of Asa's descendants. The marker was unveiled by two small great-great-grandsons of Asa Standish, Eugene W. Standish, son of Mr. and Mrs. Cleon Standish of Medina, and Hubert Standish, Jr., son of Mr. and Mrs. Hubert Standish of Utica.
"Following the unveiling, a history of the Standish family was given by Mrs. Ida Standish Shourds (Mrs. George Shourds) of Albion.
"The services at the graves of the daughters were brief. At each the Regent of Orleans Chapter, Mrs. Avery V. Andrews, led the chapter in the salute to the flag, the Lord's Prayer and the benediction, after which the markers were unveiled. Elizabeth Shourds Green (Mrs. William C. Green of Belmont) wearing Electa's own dress, unveiled the marker of her ancestress. Mrs. Green is a great-great-niece of Electa. The flag was placed in the marker by Elizabeth Waldo, Daughter of Homer Waldo of barre Center, a great-great-niece of Electa."

Fooling Around With Clocks

It's 2:27 Mountain Standard Time, or Pacific Daylight Time, whichever you prefer. The good citizens of Arizona have the good sense not to fool around with changing our clocks twice each year. I've often wondered why it wouldn't be so much easier to just change working hours, starting work at, say, seven instead of eight.

Bruno

Here's Bruno, Westminster Village's African Spurred Tortoise, in case you missed him at wmvaz.com.

Latest Drawings

These are my latest ink drawings.

An Anniversary

Today, January 16th, is the anniversary of the day in 1919 when the 18th amendment to the Constitution was enacted in which Congress, in their infinite wisdom, decided that their fellow Americans shouldn’t be allowed alcoholic beverages. Of course, the natural progression was for the American public to begin buying the prohibited joy juice form the gangsters. That, in turn, gave rise to an increased size of law enforcement to overcome the profiteers who reacted to the prohibition. Finally, believe it or not, Congress became aware of what had been happening (they were too sober to notice right away) and in 1933 repealed the amendment. 1933! Fifteen years! So how long do you think it will take before they notice the drug wars?

"A Queer Case"

From The Holley Standard, Holley, N. Y., Thursday, November 20, 1879:
"'A Queer Case
'Our usually quiet community is much excited over a new development in a case which has caused much speculation during the summer. The facts are something like these: Mrs. Jesse Mann and her daughter Hannah, living alone on a farm west of Martin's Corners, have been annoyed and at times greatly alarmed by some parties coming to their house and throwing stones in the windows, destroying house plants, cutting doors, and even carrying fence posts into neighbors' yards, and in harvest time pulling down shocks of wheat and scattering them in the highway. These demonstrations have been so persistent as to injure the health of Mrs. Mann through fear of personal injury. Her son Gad and others have repeatedly staid (sic) in the house all night, but never on these occasions have the parties been heard or seen, until Saturday, the 3rd, about midnight, when Gad Mann and Geo. Odell, his brother-in-law, once more secreted themselves about the house and succeeded in capturing a lady, who has admitted participation in the whole series of attacks on the peace of the family but refuses to reveal any accomplice. She was detained until Sunday morning, when a warrant was procured for her arrest. Upon being taken before Justice Fowler at Two Bridges, she plead not guilty, and examination being waived she was bailed in the sum of $550 to appear in court. We withhold the name of the guilty party, thinking it well from the nature of the case to ask a suspension of public opinion.' - East Carlton Correspondence Orleans Republican."

I found this article while conducting research, but have not yet found anything further about the case - yet. Mrs. Jesse Mann is the former Nancy Standish, my second great grandmother, who was a direct descendant of Myles Standish, who we all know as the Captain of the Pilgrims' militia.

The Miller Challenge

The challenge is to find when George Miller (Müller) immigrated to the United States.
This is information about George:
He was born 5 July 1815 in Lembach, Bas-Rhin, France to George Müller and Sophie Catharina Guthöhrel. He was naturalized on 22 October 1851 in Lyons, Wayne County, New York. He belonged to the First Lutheran Church, where the records of his children’s births are recorded. His wife was Magdalena Rössel, born 15 December 1820, in Lembach. He first appears in the US census in 1850 as George Mills in Lyons. His oldest child, Magdalena was born 22 June 1843 in Lyons, so he must have immigrated before that. In the 1900 census, the first year the question was asked, Magdalena said she had immigrated in 1855, which is obviously incorrect.

Early Morning Plan

I woke up this morning with a plan for legalizing marijuana, don't ask me why, I don't know. So here's the essence of the plan:
First, pass federal legislation to treat marijuana the same as any and all tobacco products. That would allow tobacco companies to start producing marijuana cigarettes, and would include collecting import taxes for all marijuana coming across our borders.
Second, include a 30 to 90 day amnesty program, to be managed by the tobacco companies, during which people could turn in their supply of marijuana for coupons to be used in exchange for marijuana cigarettes. That would include credit for all living plants, which could be used to start legalized farms. After the amnesty program expires, the same protections and penalties that currently exist for tobacco products would be applied to marijuana products.
Comments?

Quakin'

If you go on Google Earth and search around Prague, Oklahoma, to the west, you can find quite a few earthquake records. Look between Prague and Meeker, both sides of highway US 62. The largest I found is 5.7, stronger than I'd like to feel. About 6 or 8 years ago, there was a quake in California that rolled through Arizona. Our house felt as though it was on a small roller coaster, and our dining room light was swaying. Fortunately, there was no damage. But it sure was a strange sensation.

Just In Case

Just in case you were wondering, Grandma and I did not partake of the Black Friday activities. We need our rest.

Didya Hear?

Didya hear about the young fella who sold his business because he heard that Congress was going to give him "some help" and he decided to get out before they could?

The Holiday Season

We made it past Halloween, so all the ghosts and goblins are back in the attic or under the bed for another year. Next up is Thanksgiving, which some think began with the Pilgrims back in the 1620's. The fourth Thursday in November, after a series of changes, was officially set as THE date by federal legislation in December 1941. I don't know what kind of celebration was held in the early years, but it probably didn't involve one day of over-indulgence followed by three days of bicarbonate of soda and ice bags. Or was that New Years Eve?

Once we get past Thanksgiving, we look toward Christmas, even though the merchants have been reminding us since Labor Day.

Joe and Petey

We lived in Rochester, New York, and I was in high school at the time. The family next door were from Ireland and had two sons, Joe and Jim, Joe being the oldest, three years younger than me. Joe introduced me to Petey. But first, a little background.

Joe was curious by nature. As an example, his mother came home from shopping one day with an archery set for Joe, who promptly took it out in the backyard where Jim was playing. Trying to find out what might happen, Joe took aim at the sky and let an arrow fly. He learned that what goes up must come down, and come down it did - right onto his brother’s head. Fortunately, the arrow had a blunt point so no physical damage was done to Jim, but Joe couldn’t sit down for a while. There are other examples, like the time he sneaked his father’s pistol out of the house, went into the woods and accidentally shot himself in the hand, requiring the fire department to bring him home. And there was that other time… Well, I did say a little background.

Our neighbor across the street was raising a Cooper’s hawk and a Peregrine Falcon. The falcon’s name was Petey, but I don’t remember the name of the hawk (probably Cooper). The owner was going on vacation and asked Joe to feed and water his birds. Everything went well for a day or two until Joe decided to find out if he could let Petey out and call him back to the cage. Well, Petey didn’t come back to Joe, instead flying around a bit before alighting onto a chimney down the street. Joe was frantic that the bird was going to disappear. He called to me and explained the situation, so I took a piece of raw beef and the leather glove that Joe had and walked down the street to where Petey could see me. I waved the meat back and forth and whistled to call him down, and, lo and behold, he did. He landed on my gloved hand and went for the meat. I took hold of the straps on his legs (there’s a name for them which you probably all know) and made sure he couldn’t fly away, then walked up the street and put him back in his cage. Joe swore me to secrecy. As far as I can tell, the owner never did find out about Petey‘s freedom flight. And Joe went on to other days of infamy.

Hmm, just wonderin'

I don't know what it's like in your area, but we seem to be in the midst of the monarch butterfly migration. The air is filled with them. We have a bog garden and they love one of the plants that is now in bloom. Do you think that the word "butterfly" might be a Spoonerism for their original word - flutter-by - that is more descriptive? Just askin'.

Found Wood

There is an exhibit at the Desert Botanical Garden of big bugs created out of found wood. The artist uses different types of wood that he picks up here and there to make sculptures such as this giant Praying Mantis.

Essays

A book of essays can try the patience of a saint. Whenever I pick one up, I set as a goal to read one each day. That gives me the opportunity to mull over the author's moral point, if there is one, or to enjoy the humorous incident related, or just to revel in the choices of words. However - and you knew there'd be a "however" - sometimes it just isn't possible to wait the twenty-four hours for the next experience. So I've been almost racing through this new book from the local library, because my patience took a hike. The book is "I'm a Stranger Here Myself" by Bill Bryson, who spent twenty years in England before moving back to America, specifically, Hanover, New Hampshire. Yesterday, I zipped through three - THREE - before I even realized that my goal had been much surpassed. Now the dilemma is, should I not read any more for the next two days, or just press on while attempting to maintain my daily ration? Sometimes life is just a series of hard decisions.

New Drawing

The latest ink drawing.

Goodbye Facebook

I had said a few months ago that I was cancelling my Facebook account, but found out that it was not that easy. Every photo had to be individually deleted and it was so bothersome that I stopped and decided I was too lazy to finish. Then, this week when I logged on, I was confronted with a screen that was alien to me. Facebook changed! And so did I. So I checked out the process for cancelling my account once again and found it only takes one click. So one click I did. The next message said I would be given 14 days to change my mind after which my account would be permanently erased. By now, I've forgotten when the 14 days started, so I'll just let it go.

The MIM

Yesterday, Grandma and I ran a few errands then went to the Musical Instruments Museum in Phoenix. We spent about 2 hours walking through the exhibits, which are amazing. There are instruments from almost every country in the world, with accompanying audio of them. Among the missing countries is North Korea. There is a space reserved, so if anyone knows how or where to find any, please contact them at www.themim.com. We had a sandwich in the Cafe before we left. A nice place to spend time. There is one area where the instruments can be played - a great place for children. Gongs, drums, xylophones, mandolins, etc. A great display of player pianos, player woodwinds, including an exhibit that tells how the piano rolls are created. They have one of the machines that converts the pianist's music into holes in paper, quite an amazing invention. Two of Elvis's jump suits are on display, along with some Hank Snow items, among others. One area displayed bagpipes from the many countries where they are played; some are as primitive as a calf skin, others as elaborate as the Scottish instrument. And they have a schedule of concerts in their auditorium which is said to have perfect acoustics (would you expect anything less?). So next time you find yourself in the Valley of the Sun with some time on your hands, drop in at the MIM.

Drawings

Here are my latest ink drawings.

Genealogy

One of the new features added to Ancestry.com shows the relationship of everyone in the file to the primary entry - me, in my file. As I was cleaning up some records, I found one line that goes back to my 21st great grandfather. The shortest line ends at a 3rd great grandfather, Thomas J. Patterson, and a 3rd great grandmother, Martha Conklin, who married Thomas. They lived in Hanover, NY before moving to Batavia, NY; anyone have any information to share? Using the Fulton Newspaper site - fultonhistory.com - I've been able to find articles about other relatives; such items as marriages, obituaries, travels, travails, etc. Also, I've been contacted by distant cousins who have found a common relative and have provided additional information about that family line. The nice thing is that there is a way to keep living people's information private, which I do. My family came from England, France and Germany to western New York state, and now grandchildren reside all over the United States.

Stealing Great-granddaughters

William Wordsworth wrote a poem that started:
“My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky;
So it was when my life began;
So is it now I am a man”

Upon the birth of his daughter, Ogden Nash wrote a poem that starts:
“My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky;
Contrariwise, my blood runs cold
When little boys go by.”

His lament is that some boy will grow up and marry his daughter and carry her away, when she has just entered his life. And that thought crosses my mind when I hold my great-granddaughters and they smile up at me: Who will be the lucky one who steals their heart away as they have stolen mine.

Great-grandchildren

A few of our great-grandchildren from our visit to Rochester.

The Debt "Crisis"

Anyone care to solve the debt "crisis"? My own view is that our politicians aren't willing to apply sound, honest business principles to running our federal government. How many corporations can stay in business by spending more than they earn year after year? At the first sign of declining profits, they would initiate cost-cutting strategies, such as reducing spending and reductions in staff. Think any of our politicians are willing to give up any of their staff or reduce their spending? So how will they reach a compromise? First off, increase income by raising taxes, exempting themselves, of course. Next, announce a "reduction in spending"; translated, that means reducing the rate of planned spending increases. Isn't it time we stopped voting for politicians and elected some businessmen/women to better manage this country's finances? I'm ready.

The NFL Brouhaha

What's the big deal with the NFL controversy? It's just a bunch of millionaires fighting over how to split up billions of dollars. None of which will ever find it's way back to the fans who contributed to the pile in the first place. Most likely, after the dust settles, the fans will have to pay more to go to a game. Which means another brouhaha over the profits looms in the future. Unless the fans wise up and boycott the games. No money, no argument.

Recovering

Sorry to have been so quiet lately. Grandma and I have been on a driving trip to upstate New York via Las Vegas, NV, that took 28 days out of our lives. Will write more after I recover.

This 'n That

The results are in and the By-laws changes we proposed have been accepted overwhelmingly by the residents. So that's one less thing to worry about.

We're in the final stages of packing for our trip. I hope to have everything in the car by tonight, except for the things we need every day. We pack one small case for the things we need during the trip, and one large case for the days in Rochester. The final items go in tomorrow just before we head out. Cell phones and cameras are charged and ready to go. The Tom-Tom has been updated, too. After we leave Las Vegas, we have a reservation in Grand Junction, Colorado, after which we're free-wheeling until we reach Rochester.

Today, we're meeting our friend, Jonteel, and her special friend, Charlie, for a mid-morning pastry and cuppa, then plan to attend the Residents' Birthday Party at 2 p.m. It's always a temptation when they start serving ice cream and cake; I can usually pass up the cake, but the ice cream gets me every time. I was born with a strong love for ice cream, and it has never diminished.
Have a great day!

The BIG TRIP

We're starting to get things together for our BIG TRIP. To Las Vegas to visit granddaughter, Jeana, and her family. Then off to Rochester, NY to visit the rest of the family. For my 80th birthday party. And Shirley has a cousin and husband, whom we've never met, coming over from England. Should be a great time. This time, we're taking the northern route through Colorado, just south of Chicago, Toledo, etc. Routes 15, 70, 80 and 90. We've driven the route through Oklahoma City so many times, we could make it blindfolded (but we won't try!). I just hope the Escape will hold everything we plan to take.

Happy/Sad

Yesterday, the receptionist called to tell me there was a gift waiting for me, so I rushed down to find a guitar waiting, along with a very nice note. HAPPY! The note and guitar were from Laura, who was one of our teachers at ASU (see a previous blog entry); she is packing up to move to Seattle and thought that I would appreciate having the first guitar she ever owned, as it would be too much to take with her. HAPPY/SAD; it's wonderful that she thought of me, but sad because she had to say goodbye to her guitar. HAPPY that we will still be in touch after she gets settled and is back up on the Internet. SAD that I won't be able to give her a hug for this wonderful gift. Now I have no excuse to practice and "make it sing" (Laura's words). Thank you, Laura, and God speed.

Empty

I was just reading Rick and Jilda Watson's blogs about they can't seem to find anything to write about. Well, today is Art Workshop here at Westminster Village and I suddenly find myself wondering just what the heck I'm going to work on. Haven't a clue. It's still a few hours away, so maybe the Art Gods will send down an inspirational message. Time will tell. Have a good day, wherever you are.

Rose in Black and White

Here's the latest ink drawing. I like this medium almost as much as watercolor.

Songs My Father Sang

My father used to like to sing. Most of the songs were from the First World War, like "Give My Regards to Broadway", "Over There" and "Pack Up Your Troubles in Your Old Kit Bag". But the one that I remember because it was a humorous ditty went like this:

I run the old mill over here to Reuben's-ville
My nane's Joshua Ebenezer Frye.
I know a thing or two,
You can bet your life I do,
They don't ketch me for I'm too darn sly.

I've seen Bunco men, allus got the best o' them,
Once I met a couple on the Boston train.
They says, "How be you!"
I says, "That'll do!
Travel right along with your darn skin game.

Chorus:
Wal, I swan!
I mus' be gittin' on!
Giddyup, Napoleon! It looks like rain.
Wal, I'll be switched!
The hay ain't pitched!
Come in when you're over to the farm again.

There were a lot of verses to it, and I've heard it on the radio only once in my life, back in the 70's, by some folk singer whose name I never did learn. If you ever hear the number, let me know.

Our "Band"

Here we are, "The Lovely Bunch of Coconuts" in all our glory. In the foreground are Gina from Taiwan and Laura. Back from left to right are Michelle, Michael, me, Jonteel, Dorothy and Lou. Gina and Laura were the student instructors, Michael their supervisor. Laura has graduated and is on her way to Seattle; Gina is going to Chicago. Lou is holding the guitar his wife bought him a few years ago. At the time, he said he would wait until he was 90 to take lessons because he was just too busy. When the opportunity came for the ASU sessions, he signed up, even though he's a year shy of 90, just to have someone tune his guitar. Jonteel was so taken with the first couple of sessions with drums that her son bought her a snare drum; she has since been taking lessons from a professional drummer. One of these days, I'll look into buying a guitar; right now I'm too busy with other activities. But I do know all the notes to "Love Me Tender"!

Dad

I've been thinking of my father a lot lately. He was quite a craftsman. He made desks for my brother and me as well as our children. Bookcases and storage cabinets. A train table for me. Tools for building model airplanes. In his later years, he worked on some projects at his church, including building a new set of steps. He was a mason/bricklayer by trade, having worked with his father and brothers since he was 13. He lost his mother when he was 8 and quit school at age 13 to help the family - his father and 7 siblings. He suffered from a form of pemphagus, which caused large sores to form on his neck and under his arms. Treatments in those days, before it was diagnosed correctly, included radiation, boric acid salves, zinc oxide ointments, all to no avail. It was difficult to work because he couldn't always raise his arms to plaster ceilings. But he always managed to live through the attacks. He took time off from work to build houses for my brother and me after we married. He collected books on the West and Spiritualism; he belonged the the Spiritualist Church in Rochester, NY, and was active in Lily Dale, NY. He died recovering from prostate cancer surgery; the surgery was successful, but the cause was a pulmonary embolism.

Music Therapy Finished

Monday was the last in a series of classes at Arizona State University Music Department, and it was sad/happy. Sad because it was the end and we would probably not see the student teachers again. Laura would graduate this month and move on to the Seattle area; Gina (from Taiwan) would be spending her summer in Chicago. Michael, their supervisor, will stay in the Valley to teach and play in drum circles, so we might run into him from time to time.
Happy because we got to record a song we wrote the lyrics to, had photos taken of the group, and had a CD cut of us singing our song. Laura, Gina and Michael put together the CD with some of their favorites, along with Jonteel reading a poem she had written thanking them, as well as "The Lovely Bunch of Coconuts" singing our song.
We did also have time to play all of "Love Me Tender" on guitars, so we are ready to go out into the world and serenade. Are you ready, world?

Birches - In Progress

This is my next project. Hard to tell how it will look when done.

Musical Therapy Class

Back in February, the Activities Department said that the Arizona State University Music Department was going to conduct a program in which we could learn how to play a variety of musical instruments, so I signed up. We went every Monday afternoon for an hour. The sessions were (and still are for two more weeks) conducted by two students studying Therapy By Music - or something like it. They were supervised by a graduate. One of the teachers is from Taiwan, her name is Jeana (but probably with a more Asian spelling - I'll ask next week) and, since I have a granddaughter named Jeana, I told her to call me "Grandpa", which always comes out as "Grandfather".
We started out with a drum circle, in order for them to get to know us better. The initial group was 12 residents, but dwindled to 4 regulars plus someone from the Activities Dept. Drums for 3 weeks, followed by xylophones for 3 weeks, then on the keyboards for 3 more. We learned the first few bars of "My Wild Irish Rose", since it was getting close to St. Patrick's Day; have you ever heard an Irish song sung in English with a strong Taiwanese brogue? One day was spent trying out a variety of percussion instruments, whose names I can't recall and couldn't spell even if I knew.
Finally - finally, we started on the guitar, which the real reason I signed up. The rest was interesting, but I really REALLY wanted to find out if I had the ability to play a guitar. Well, that day, I learned the first two lines of "Love Me Tender"! Now I'm hooked! I can't wait to go back to class for more. And I'll be looking around for guitar stores. Who knows, maybe I'll be serenading the neighbors by Labor Day. Wish me luck.

Sunflower

Here's the latest done in ink.

Olympics Fun and Frolic

It's been a busy two weeks here. We just finished the 2011 Westminster Village Olympics games. Registration took place Sunday, Monday and Tuesday (the 27th, 28th & 29th), followed by two days of Contract Bridge. Duplicate Bridge finished out the first week. On Monday, the Torch was escorted from the front gate into the building, where all in attendance were treated to a hearty breakfast. The day continued with the Bocci preliminary games, Table Tennis preliminary games, ending with the Indoor games. The Indoor games included Ladder Golf, Horseracing, Bean-bag Toss and something with Table Tennis balls and glasses of water. Tuesday, the activities were: a Walking contest; Bocci playoffs; Table Tennis playoffs; Croquet and games in the Assisted Living complex. Wednesday: Watersports; Lap Swimming (if a third person had signed up, they would have automatically received third prize!); Putting; Whiffle Golf; Trivia-rama; Home Run Derby fot the Staff and Wii Bowling. Thursday started with Indoor Games in the Health Care unit, followed by the Electric Cart "Rumble" (in which electric cart users were timed through a twisting course); next were Billiards, Basketball for the Staff; Lawn Bowling; the last activity was Outdoor Games in the Health Care Center. All in all, a very busy week for the volunteers who coordinated and conducted the games. And a very fun-filled week.
Shirley and I volunteered to help with registration, the Indoor Games and the Walkers. Also, I was tapped to take photos of the Walkers, Putters, Billiards players, Horseshoe throwers and the Contract Bridge players.
On Friday, all the photos of all the events were continuously projected on two screens in the main auditorium during the Awards ceremony (yours truly won a gold medal for Billiards). Needless to say, Saturday and today are days of well-needed rest.

Ink Work

I've been trying my hand at ink drawing, so here are the latest.

Done!

After five mornings on the roof, scraping old paint, patching stucco, putting on a sealant and finally adding the top coat, the parapets are finished. That should last for 5 or 10 years or until the next damaging hailstorm. Last October, the hailstones were as big as golf balls - some even larger - and they did a great deal of damage here in the Valley of the Sun. Car dealers were selling new cars at record low prices as is because of the dents and damaged glass. Roofing contractors are still trying to get to all the repair jobs. One contractor said his company had enough work for the next two years. Here at Westminster Village, 67 skylights needed to be replaced along with numerous window screens. Fortunately, our cars are under cover, so there was no damage there. So, no more mornings on the roof! Hooray!

Roof Repair

I spent half the day on the roof of our house - it's flat - repairing the parapets from the damage caused by the hail storm last October. The main roof had been repaired by a local roofing company, and when they completed their final inspection a week or so ago, they informed me of the problems they didn't repair. It involved stucco damage, which they don't do. So, following the advice of a neighbor, I hied myself off to Home Depot for the necessary materials and proceeded to set to work. Most of the time was spent scraping and cleaning out the problem areas. I was able to clean and apply the sealant coat to about a third of the complete area. So tomorrow, if you're looking for me, I'll be back on the roof. Some neighbors stopped to talk as I was cleaning up, and I told them I was getting to the age when I don't want to go up and down ladders anymore. I think that's one wish for my 80th birthday in July - no more ladders, please. It's not that I don't like ladders, they've been very good to me. It's just that I'd rather keep at least one foot on the ground when climbing them.

Fuzzy

When the children were young, we recited this verse:
Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear.
Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair.
Fuzzy Wuzzy wasn’t fuzzy,
Was he.

My grandfather, William Francis Miller, Sr., was called Fuzzy because he always had his hair trimmed close to the skin. (In his older years, his youngest son, Uncle Bill, would trim it for him.) He was born in Lyons, New York but spent most of his life in Batavia, where he raised his family. There were 10 children, 7 of whom grew to adulthood. His wife, Lennie, died from complications during childbirth of the 10th child, Thomas, who was stillborn; daughter Rachel died at 4 months from cholera; their first daughter, Violet, died in her first year also. He was a lather, said to be the fastest in that area. Before plaster board, lath strips (about 1 inch by ¼ inch) were attached to the studs of a building to hold the plaster. The laths were spaced about 1/2 inch apart so the mason could force the plaster through the spaces, which allowed the plaster to stick to the wall. I can imagine it was difficult to keep the family together in those days while working throughout the county. His sister-in-law wanted to take some of the children but he refused. The family grew up relying on one another for support. In 1893, he was kicked in the leg by a horse; the break was not set properly and caused him to limp and use a cane. In 1905, he made the newspaper by defending his 16-year old daughter from the unwanted attentions of a stonemason; he was fined and his revolver confiscated. In his elder years, Fuzzy lived with his oldest daughter in Rochester where he passed away at age 93.

The photo at the top shows Fuzzy eating a slice of home-made pie; the other, in Rochester, returning from a local saloon where he enjoyed a glass of beer and a cigar when in his 90's.