Autumn has arrived

 

Every October, the blog world is bedazzled by posts with autumn photos taken by the blogger her/himself.  It makes me hunger for and a little bit jealous of the world “back where” there is such a thing as autumn.

Here in Wildfire season in California, the fall colors don’t exist, except for a sweet gum tree that also sheds little spike balls. What I do have are photos taken in late October 2009 on a walk with my brother, Don.  The photos taken were put into an album to give as a Christmas present for my mother who was in fading and failing health.

So, here are some memories of Autumn and a small town, Pleasant Hill in Illinois in 2009:

An old house next to the bank

Mom's neighbor.  Mom could tell me who they are, who their parents were...

Small rental apartments next to the train track.  This

used to be a veterinarian office when I was young. 

A house near the local funeral home

After my father retired from farming, he visited with at the John Deere

store almost every day.  Sometimes he drove to another John Deere store to pick

up parts.  These was pre-computer ordering.

The Methodist Church (which is in the sidebar).  Young couples 

would meet on benches (out of sight) and talk/kiss.

This log house was saved and then moved to this site.  It dates back to 1820 

and across from Stark Nursery, where the first Delicious apples were

created by someone who brought up a "scion" from Kentucky which

was grafted and cross-pollinated.

This house was restored and is now occupied by some very hard working 

people whom my mom knew.  Yes, she could cite their lineage. We

stopped and peeked in the windows while it was still

under construction.  Mom had no shame, and was friendly with everyone, who 

also knew her lineage.

Somewhere this road will come to an end, in Calhoun County

These are Autumn memories from a past shared by Mom, brother Don Peck.  This is a post from 2009.

Monster Mash 2016

 
One knows that Halloween is at its end when all Halloween stuff has left Lowe's, and Christmas stuff is in its place.

So, as a last homage to Halloween, this is given to you:

To you and Halloween monsters knocking at your door, Happy Hallowed 'eve.

Adventures in the Kansas City Library

                                                         Kansas City Library

 Another hot day in Kansas City began by 9 a.m., and David sighed.  Why the hell did we move here?  Why? Chicago to Kansas City was a leap of insanity, especially in July.

David found himself on the library steps, trudging up into the brisk cool air of books and tables, musty and old.  

Purposefully, David headed back to where he had last tossed “The Adventures of Lord James St. John” onto the floor.  The book, of course, had been shelved by some over-zealous librarian.  Even so, he caught the sapphire blue spine among other lined up remnants of insipid adventure fiction books.

Sitting in a dark corner on a battered leather chair, David experienced a surge of anticipation.

“…the ground rumbled beneath him... as he raced ahead of the cave-in, only to sense burning vitriolic acid mist surrounding him, engulfing him.  The air morphed into a freezing mixture, combined with rotten egg scent of  liquid sulfuric acid…

Oh, come on!  Sulfuric acid AND gaseous nitrous oxide?  Together? Ancient tribes would have no knowledge…Idiot writer…Do your research, why dontcha? David sneered.

“Misfortune loomed as the fumes waved over him.  Coughing through a torn shirt sleeve, he had an epiphany. Holding his breath, he crouched and crept along the craggy cave floor, breathing through the rock and dirt.  

Stay low, stay low…out of the mist…David whispered.

 A light gleamed ahead, a source of rescue. St. John tumbled and rolled into the bright daylight.  He snatched grass and twigs to pull him the rest of the way until he could escape the fumes. Lord James revived just enough to see his worst nemesis towering over him. Lord James St. John groaned.

David smirked. Well then…this was unpredictable. He should have been taken captive, tortured, or something.

A tall man glared down at him.  “…had to take another gamble, didn’t you?...A man who finds  misfortune, unworthy to bear the colors of the St. John banner…”

James lost consciousness blessedly, but when he came to, the man was still there, still haranguing at his son.  “…you impertinent worthless…."

Can’t he just shut up…just shut up…David growled.

First you deny the privilege of serving Queen and Country…A PACIFIST….”

David groaned. His dad.  Just silly plot twist.  Come on, really?

Lord James William Arthur St. John, puffed out his medal covered chest. “Why, in my day…”

Lord James St. John gazed through a haze at the self-proclaimed hero of martial glory.  Before passing out with a fading smile, he whispered, “You peacock you…”

David chortled.  Flipped a few pages ahead, Lord James St. John was already on another adventure.

Why not?  He took the book to the check-out desk.

The underlined words were provided in 2015 from Wednesday Words, started by Delores and maintained by several talented bloggers: Elephant's Child, River, . Over the years, the words have been challenging and entertaining.

After editing and rewriting and then editing more, this emerged. It was a load of fun, but then, isn't writing just that?

This was published in 2018.

 

 

Classics 

CardBoard Town

 

               

 

Cardboard Town
Where the bounced are trounced, 

The in-flamed are out-flamed.

Variety of rich to poor,
Poor to beyond poor.

Raspberry, Blackberry,

Gangrene black
Creep and seep.

Down and up,
up and down.

All in Cardboard Town.

 

This was a Wed. Word 2014, given by Delores from 13 years ago.  She passed the writing genre challenge onto  Elephant's child and River/

.

Word from 2014, re-posted in 2018, the Words would be have to locate from posts that far in the past.

My son lived in Chicago and drove us through town.

there was an encampment under overhead roads, Winter? I asked. No easy answer could be given.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yuma, gotta love it.

 

Staring into the light was the onset of despair.  Rolling dunes as far as could be seen robbed her of balance and Sheila fell, tumbling and rolling hard.  Get up, I must keep moving, she muttered as she stumbled to an outcropping of rounded stones and palm trees. 

Sunstroke was a distinct possibility in this heat, driving her to find rest in the shade. There was a drink, a green icy drink, within her grasp. 

 

Source

Sheila reached out to it, finding it to be an illusion. Yuma is not all the holiday place advertised. She kept crawling to toward the sound of happy people.  Were they really happy? Were they even there?  How the hell do I get outta here?

 

No disrespect is meant to Yuma, AZ.  Yuma is set among beautiful scenery.  When we drove through Yuma long ago, it was 115 degrees F. at 8 AM.

This was a post of 2014. The underlined words are from Wednesday Words created by Delores from Under the Porch Light. She passed the baton to other bloggers,  River and Elephant's Child.  There is some good writing at those sites.  Check them out.

 I had surgery on the right hand, and it is slow healing. I had 1st session of P/T. It will not be fun. 

  I can hunt and peck, so I can answer some posts.  Yay!

From Attic to Cellar

The cellar, Jackson sighed as he descended moldy steps.  Having worked from attic to cellar, Jackson had just eaten a copious number of brownies Grammy forced on him.  Oh, Jackie!  What an industrial (industrious) little boy you are!  Have another brownie…

After a pot of black coffee and a belly full of brownies, Jackson was galvanized to tackle the dank cellar. The first few boxes were with junk.  Then the third box yielded treasure.

An old camera from long ago era, 1870s maybe Civil War? Riveted by the tin-type photos carefully labeled with names, Jackson could pick out physical resemblances in his own generation.

Jackson froze when one branch of the family turned and headed to here-to-fore hidden family names, absent from family conversations.  One of the great-great-grandfathers was Amos Lee, a black soldier and his black wife, Martha Lee held a child on her lap…Jackson Lee. 

It was a page turner.  Tin-types led to Seneca tribes in New York and then onto Oneida tribes, some twigs went to the Lakota tribes in the West. 

Well, that’s a hell of a thing…Jackson smiled.   Trees have to have deep roots.

 

 This was a Wednesday Words challenge from 2014.

Delores started this challenge TO challenge bloggers to try other genres. She started this to challenge bloggers to try different genres. She passed the baton onto

 http://myjustsostory.blogspot.com/  and river

Check them out!

 

Delores passed the baton onto Elephant's Child and River, who now post those words for us to take on and whip those words into shape

Head over to their sites. 

 

Note: I cannot edit out the LOONG space to comments.Why, I don't know.

                              My gr-gr-grandmother Elizabeth Lucy Nichols

                                                    

Where my great grandfather (one of eleven) was born, top left side, "Mrs. Nichols" Iroquois Nation honor the matriarchy society.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                

Israel, God's people

 

Draiman with his son

                                   Disturbed, with Draiman singing the Israel anthem.

David Draiman is Jewish, was educated in Israel, studied in America.

                                                        The Light with David Draiman

Each is about 3 min. long, worth listening to at least part of it.  This is a real departure from what I had heard before. His voice is hypnotic.

I met the Disturbed music quite by accident. It was my 10 yr. old gr-daughter who showed me the new cover of Sound of Silence played some selections that I really enjoyed.

Thing is that if I had not fallen in love with David Draiman and his powerful voice, I would never have gone to find his work, even listened to him. Happy accidents.

                                                     One of the guitarists brought his 9 yr old

                                               son, Justin Donegan's birthday. One time

                                              Draiman introduced his pregnant wife with

                                             her pregnant belly.  He was so proud of his

                                          family, and his love for them is awesome.

 HERE: some about his training.

 

Draiman was trained to be a cantor, given the voice.  "As a child I had trained as a cantor, who leads the Jewish congregation in prayer, so I’d had quite a bit of vocal training. And that’s still with me to this day."

 

Daiman considered studying Law or becoming a rabbi. He felt his interest in becoming a rabbi was discarded.  He studied law, planning to become a lawyer, but his voice and talent were not in a law book.

  

Before David Draiman became famous as the singer of the heavy metal band Disturbed, he trained to be a cantor. That didn’t go so well. Growing up in Chicago, he was expelled from three different yeshivas, and after a rowdy night of Purim drinking as a teenager, he blew up his high school rabbi’s van.

 

 

I know that Disturbed is a rock band of some fame, which I am just discovering.

Just really enjoyed listening to his voice and songs. The musicians are incredibly 

talented

 His voice fills the stadium. 

 
There you have it. I have fallen in love Disturbed and David Draiman.


This is a repost from Jan. 2022.
Watching the war in Israel and Palestine, how can we not
be horrified

History teaches so much. Sadly the younger university
students seem to be skewed. Lack of understanding history will
doom generations whose minds reach only so far.

Pray for the Israel. Pray for its people. 

ג וַאֲבָרְכָה, מְבָרְכֶיךָ, וּמְקַלֶּלְךָ, אָאֹר; וְנִבְרְכוּ בְךָ , כֹּל מִשְׁפְּחֹת הָאֲדָמָה3 “I will bless those who bless you, and him who dishonors you I will curse.  Genesis 12:3

 

 

   

 

 

 

 

When you're old

 

Old is when....

                                                                        every single stinkin' night

Pinterest

And that's all she wrote.