When Leaves drop

 

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, and me.The roads roll ahead.

People who went before you

 The pillar is still readable, in its own way.  Who was there and what they were is still a possibility.This group was from the Shive family, from all sorts of places and people.

This was Janie C.--she traveled to Oregon in a covered wagon, hated it, came home. So I have been told. At one time, her father wanted her to win an election, so he handed a bunch of money for her to throw from the Ferris wheel. Did she win, probably not.

It is said that death bestows gifts upon all.  I won’t try to name them, but the one I like is: Death washes the past and gives sanctity to the dead.

Julia, Nora, Bessie, and ?

At least, so I thought.  Recently I visited my favorite and remaining Aunt Vada in Macon, Missouri.  It was the first week of October, with all the beauty of fall giving glimpses of what colors were to come.  We visited non-stop, words filling the air.  Aunt Vada is a gifted writer, with a way of placing words exactly where they need to be. 

 

James W. Shive, died at age 3 years, 3 months, and 16 days.

One of our days involved traveling to my mother’s hometown, across the Mississippi River into Pike County, Illinois. 

We visited Crescent Heights Cemetery high on the bluffs in Pleasant Hill, IL, where Mom’s parents and relatives were buried.  Each time I have been there, I vowed that this place has the most incredible view of any cemetery.  

It is also the only place I can get cell phone coverage in the whole of Pike County.

We stood silently over Grandma and Grandpa’s graves, and then examined a family pillar on which Grandma’s side of the family were recorded.  I have seen that thing hundreds of times over my life there, but I never knew.  I never knew the stories that Aunt Vada shared with me.

My grandparents

Oh. Really?  No, not back then…  Those were my words and reactions as she touched each name and told the highlights of some very rowdy, randy, and raunchy ancestors. 

 

Martin Van Buren Shive, patriarch with the names of his children carved on all sides of the monument.  Lots of children. He was a veteran of the Civil War. He came home after a few years, having been injured drastically.

 Moonshiners, fornicators, adulterers, underhanded politicians, swindlers—they broke every sin listed in the Bible. I heard the stories from my Grandma Cardiff. 

I tell you, check out your ancestors while you still have relatives who know the whole story about them.  And, it might be a good idea to look at your own life, since someday you’ll be the ancestor about whom stories will be told. 

 

 Posted in 2016. Grandpa Cardiff was born in 1892, Grandma was born in 1901.

 

 

 

Wash my hair

 

Photos from those in snowy frozen land are incredible. Beautiful, white, crystalline snow glistens in the early Winter season. 

 Winter is all good until February hits.(I personally feel that February is the hell of winter.). But, until then, this post is a reminder that at least Bing Crosby, Danny Kaye, Rosemary Clooney, and Vera Ellen anticipated the joy of snow. Didn't happen (!), but it was something else later on.