tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030978806247613682024-03-04T23:10:25.545-08:00maddashDashing through life, one day at a time.Silent Calhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16592908760103622995noreply@blogger.comBlogger35125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-603097880624761368.post-76369755331965960302023-12-03T07:02:00.000-08:002023-12-03T07:02:45.292-08:00Love of a Bug.<p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">Linda's Dad bought a new 1962 bug for his family of five in California. He was always sort of a "nutty professor" and he loved that car. Linda inherited it and I learned to love Volkswagens and bought a 1968 Bug while in the Navy. We were a 2 Bug family. It was a sad day when I posted this ad on the Sperry's (Navy ship I was on) bulletin board.</span></span></p><p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">FYI....Linda and I owned 4 Bugs, 1 Fastback, 2 Buses, 1 Rabbit in days gone by.</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBCb-eGxbp52vHhOtiSTVi6bbihsBpu_3T3aehfHCgdEpqxZAcQJ1bXgJZtA4S0M9pUWR9LIFgz3Uz3ASE3HNqBRqt4IjzTkgt-EooBlY19yNM0RJIm38Zc4gRPZ5fKwCVF3hXFLZWffPlYdXF_w1cT6Wq8AcxS1EOy8BdqfkueGJ6oRB7d1Vu8xo0/s911/JohnVWBugBigBear1972.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="876" data-original-width="911" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBCb-eGxbp52vHhOtiSTVi6bbihsBpu_3T3aehfHCgdEpqxZAcQJ1bXgJZtA4S0M9pUWR9LIFgz3Uz3ASE3HNqBRqt4IjzTkgt-EooBlY19yNM0RJIm38Zc4gRPZ5fKwCVF3hXFLZWffPlYdXF_w1cT6Wq8AcxS1EOy8BdqfkueGJ6oRB7d1Vu8xo0/s320/JohnVWBugBigBear1972.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiExNpoHLHgkFVXSotRtL9tAMU4k01TggCYL38YZL-IRMOLUsTqrnW3-G-6ZwiRVK-2EUbm2HbaICOyEboD-L1MA6W_Khj5sXyyfNGM69Tg3y4mTO5UGkM8BxNd1rPUTVSgRkYltsAk8lwaK8wN3nbpPUu7b75Rjn24Lrcq7VJ9DThypxHGidfsWH9l/s1000/62VWBugAd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="588" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiExNpoHLHgkFVXSotRtL9tAMU4k01TggCYL38YZL-IRMOLUsTqrnW3-G-6ZwiRVK-2EUbm2HbaICOyEboD-L1MA6W_Khj5sXyyfNGM69Tg3y4mTO5UGkM8BxNd1rPUTVSgRkYltsAk8lwaK8wN3nbpPUu7b75Rjn24Lrcq7VJ9DThypxHGidfsWH9l/w188-h320/62VWBugAd.jpg" width="188" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1WEIVW-OGk97ASyvL8GcpO1cRoPU4BBjmJ1Rtiw9YpBPi2WGEZLbKG-KTVXD84r4NAQWQjI9pmM-Tla1Kf2BrfIfC8AOlX-DvNLeI9PiHd2a4KAL1Q01aLLX-I1dgLhNgrmk8ltN8LY0Cm8CBAIk-lQT5iPw4vbQfra3dLRlTkEbHHMNLGKNZx83T/s1000/62VWStBernardHS.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="674" data-original-width="1000" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1WEIVW-OGk97ASyvL8GcpO1cRoPU4BBjmJ1Rtiw9YpBPi2WGEZLbKG-KTVXD84r4NAQWQjI9pmM-Tla1Kf2BrfIfC8AOlX-DvNLeI9PiHd2a4KAL1Q01aLLX-I1dgLhNgrmk8ltN8LY0Cm8CBAIk-lQT5iPw4vbQfra3dLRlTkEbHHMNLGKNZx83T/s320/62VWStBernardHS.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br /></span><p></p>Silent Calhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16592908760103622995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-603097880624761368.post-12029362783097885802023-11-11T05:58:00.003-08:002023-11-11T05:58:47.906-08:00A Story of WW2, by Paul Sell. Friend and relative.<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidh-cUKq9qtWeFNxU2lyMdzD3f-vmjEgNcxV6iwR_Uz8ZJTt82tlEJb_rdfzgIscj0ezygf3w-QrghtB0XX5P_dcadlhjdPHr9HQ0FXluUOvTO1d5GPfEbRJ1ufwVcEFGugRIbTGZ4NGwC8N2wrFwnXcp0JVMOKHadVI5H-Jl-W_Tkla3c07G2TNK7/s533/Paul_Sell.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="400" height="413" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidh-cUKq9qtWeFNxU2lyMdzD3f-vmjEgNcxV6iwR_Uz8ZJTt82tlEJb_rdfzgIscj0ezygf3w-QrghtB0XX5P_dcadlhjdPHr9HQ0FXluUOvTO1d5GPfEbRJ1ufwVcEFGugRIbTGZ4NGwC8N2wrFwnXcp0JVMOKHadVI5H-Jl-W_Tkla3c07G2TNK7/w310-h413/Paul_Sell.jpg" width="310" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><h1 class="post-title entry-title" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #1f1a22; font-family: inherit; font-size: 30px; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px;">One Day in My Life-A Story of WWII, by Paul & Lowell Sell</h1><ul class="post-meta entry-meta clearfix" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.75em; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><li class="byline" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; float: left; line-height: 1.5em; list-style: none; margin: 5px 10px 0px 0px; padding: 0px;">By <span class="author" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><a href="https://karenmillerbennett.com/author/admin96/" rel="author" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #1e73be; text-decoration: none;">Karen</a></span><span class="entry-cat" style="box-sizing: border-box;"> in <span class="terms" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><a class="term term-category term-1356" href="https://karenmillerbennett.com/category/sell/" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #1e73be; text-decoration: none;">Sell</a>, <a class="term term-category term-1357" href="https://karenmillerbennett.com/category/train-wreck-at-valery-en-caux/" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #1e73be; text-decoration: none;">Train Wreck at Valery-en-Caux</a>, <a class="term term-category term-334" href="https://karenmillerbennett.com/category/veterans-day-2/" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #1e73be; text-decoration: none;">Veterans Day</a>, <a class="term term-category term-892" href="https://karenmillerbennett.com/category/world-war-ii/" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #1e73be; text-decoration: none;">World War II</a></span></span></li></ul><div class="entry-content clearfix" style="box-sizing: border-box; clear: both; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding-top: 1.5em;"><div class="at-above-post addthis_tool" data-url="https://karenmillerbennett.com/veterans-day-2/one-day-in-my-life-a-story-of-wwii-by-paul-lowell-sell/" style="box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"></div><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;">Today, on the eve of Veterans Day, I am pleased to share this WWII story about a local WWII soldier, Sgt. Lowell Sell.</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;">A big thank you to Dr. Jerry and Connie Sell for sharing this story that involved Jerry’s uncle Lowell Sell in January 1945, shortly after Lowell arrived in France to begin his service in the war.</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;">Lowell Sell told the story to his brother Paul and Paul wrote the narrative in 1999.</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;">Four Sell brothers grew up on 707 south of Rockford. Three of the Sell brothers, Lowell, Paul, and Carl, and their cousin Otis “Leroy” Sell, all served in WWII.</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;">In addition to Lowell Sell’s story, their cousin Leroy’s father, Charles Dillon Sell, wrote a poem about sixteen Rockford-area men who served in WWII. His poem, <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">The Otterbein Sixteen</em>, appears here, after Lowell’s story. Otterbein United Brethren in Christ Church, aka Stringtown United Brethren Church, was located on State Route 707, about a mile east of State Route 118, south of Rockford. </p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;"><em style="box-sizing: border-box;">A STORY OF WORLD WAR TWO<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />This is an account written for my brother that took place when he landed in France during WW2. He told it to me and also presented a report that had been written in recent years to substantiate the occasion. This is HIS STORY and a story of the US Army, that they have been so reluctant to tell. <br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />–Paul Sell, Bluffton Indiana, 1999</em></p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;"><em style="box-sizing: border-box;">For my children and grandchildren…This is a story that should have been told and written many years ago, but it was only in recent times that research and investigation brought forth the facts. I have entitled it simply</em></p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;"><strong style="box-sizing: border-box;">ONE DAY IN MY LIFE</strong><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />(Sgt) Lowell Sell</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;">Have you ever heard the longing mournful howl of the wolf or the lonesome cry of a loon down along the lake shore late at night? Well, I was listening somberly to the slow-wailing, nearly monotone whistle of a creeping shaking troop train, some place in France, one day when World War II was raging. It was a lonesome sound and I was thinking of home—far away in Ohio. The sound of the whistle echoed and reechoed along the hills, valleys and villages as we passed through them slowly. It was blowed for a warning to those along the tracks, but little did we realize the danger that was before us, or we too, would have reacted to this cry of warning.</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;">The long day had started as we disembarked from our ship, the S.S. Henry Gibbons, at the French port of LeHavre. We had just crossed the Atlantic Ocean in a convoy on this troop carrier. We had departed from the East Coast on New Years Day in 1945. Our destination was a tent city near the French coast, known as Lucky Strike. This was to be a staging area to reorganize our troops and equipment for further military action. The United States Forces were firmly committed to the battle plans that had been escalated since its beginning on D-Day, in June of 1944. Our group was a vital part to that commitment.</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;">After many tedious hours of off-loading and marching through the war-ravaged town of LeHavre, to a decrepit train station that had been bombed out, it was about 11 p.m. before we were able to climb on board those old, rickety, wooden rail cars that were known as 40 by 8. The night was as dark as ink except for the occasional lights from our G.I. flashlights. At first, the group of men that I was responsible for, (the Fourth Squad) sat in scattered areas of the car, in an attempt to find a comfortable place to rest. Soon, however, a larger group of men from a tank division began to join us. As a result, I called our men together and we moved to a forward position of the car. Little did I realize it but that move saved our lives from the tragedy that was ahead of us.</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;">Hundreds of men clambered on those old cars of the French Railway, with some even sitting on the tops of the cars. Others were seated along the sides in the open doorways. The entire train was overloaded and crowded, but the journey was not long. We should be arriving at Lucky Strike on schedule the next day. There was no room to relax or to get a few minutes of sleep.</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;">Much of the night was spent getting the train out of the mostly destroyed railroad yard which had been heavily bombed and destroyed tracks were scattered about and not very usable. We had heard that General Patton was in desperate need for replacements due to recent heavy losses, as the Battle of the Bulge was winding up. He had sent a Colonel to the port of LeHavre to meet a tank replacement company that was vitally needed at the front lines, and they were on our train. Initially, the train crew refused to drive this train as it was in poor repair. The brakes were worn out. The engine had no acceleration gauge or speedometer, as well as other undependable items of equipment. However, the Colonel ordered-at gunpoint-the French crew to get the train underway. Additionally, the relief crew was not familiar with the route or knowledgeable about the long descent of the track at the end of the route.</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;">During the night the train stopped and started several times. When it was moving, the old cars squeaked and squawked as it crept slowly down the tracks. The journey was about fifty miles and it took over eight hours to cover the distance. We knew that we would reach the end of the rails at the resort town of St. Valery. Our camp would be only a short distance away-just a few miles.</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;">It was shortly after our last stop, when the original train crew changed places with the relief crew onboard, that we noted our speed was slowly increasing. We thought that was a good idea. Previously our speed had been around 10 mph on the level, but now with more speed, the cars were beginning to sway dangerously. On occasion we could feel the wheels rise off the tracks, bouncing along. The train was now going down a long slope that was many miles long. It seemed that the brakes were being applied by the train crew, but we soon realized they were not working. Our speed increased to 30 mph, then to 40, then 50, and by that time the train was completely out of control! An accident was inevitable and the continuous whistle sounded a warning to all. Those of us inside the cars could see men either falling or jumping off the tops of the cars where they had been riding. Did they see danger ahead? We felt the approach of a disaster and we were all trapped!</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;">The train sped faster and faster! The engineer blew the whistle frantically, as if that would help slow the train. We could see bystanders along the railway waving and shouting, but we could not understand. They seemed to know something that we did not. The train tracks ended abruptly just ahead, but few on board realized it!</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;">In a moment’s time, that seemed to stand still, the engine crashed through the barricade at the end and plowed ahead into the brick station house, crushing through the building and emerging out on the other side, its momentum and the force of several dozen cars behind, had propelled it forcibly onward. The tender car next to the engine however, broke through the station house floor and fell into a basement under the building and quarter of the station master, that was a portion of the building.</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;">As a result, the first car behind the tender broke loose and piled on top of it. The train crewmen who had been resting in the tender were forcibly propelled forward and their lives were saved from being crushed. When they first realized the danger that was before them, they wrapped mattresses from their bunks around themselves. This action protected them from serious injury.</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;">In the meantime, each of the succeeding cars were tossed upwards, some high enough to reach the top of the station house. Train cars piled up like dominoes. The front ends of many cars crushed the rear portions of the cars ahead. Many soldiers were immediately killed, crushed and wounded. Others, who had been sitting in the doorways, were cut in two by the huge sliding doors that were slammed shut when the cars suddenly stopped.</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;">I was thankful that my group was huddled together in the forward portion of our car as it had been forced up and over the car ahead and we came to rest on the top of the other, crushing it and the men below. The rear half of our car was unrecognizable-nothing remained but splintered timbers and broken and mutilated bodies of those who had been passengers with us, inasmuch as they in turn had been crushed by the following car.</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;">A deathly silence covered the area. Then there were cries for help coming feebly from the wounded and trapped scattered among the dozen or more of wrecked and crumbled cars. We carefully climbed down and through the wreckage in an attempt to find and join the rest of our Company. The living among us tried to help the wounded. Before long a group of nurses and medics arrived from the Lucky Strike camp. They had just arrived also the same day at the camp by a truck convoy from our ship. They came promptly and did their best to help the wounded and dying, but, alas, their equipment and supplies were still on the ship in the harbor in the process of being unloaded.</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;">When my men and I were able to leave the area of our wrecked car I went to search for an acquaintance, Robert Lugenbill, who was in a Supply Company. His hometown was Decatur, Indiana, near my home area. He, in turn, was looking for me. Fortunately, he had been riding near the end of the train where some of the cars suffered no damage and had not derailed. We were thankful to find each other during this time of tragedy and confusion.</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;">Eventually, other military personnel arrived from the base camp and the MPs cordoned off the area and the rescue work continued. The MPs soon took away any cameras found among us and would not allow any photographs of the accident. Photos that have been found later of the scene had been taken by the local residents of the village from their upstairs windows of their homes that were nearby.</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;">Scores of men were instantly killed and many more were maimed and seriously wounded-all on the first day of our arrival in Europe. Details of this train wreck were kept secret for many years and little information had been kept on file by the Army. At the time, it was understandable that this news would have been a morale booster to the German army nearby, as the Battle of the Bulge was being consummated. Apparently, the need of additional tank corps was required in this endeavor, and it was urgent that they had to be transported on this train.</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;">It was quite late when we eventually reached our destination and got our assignment. By this time we had gone two days with scarcely any food or sleep and the food now offered tasted good. I felt very grateful and lucky to have survived this experience. Even before we had disembarked from the Henry Gibbons in the harbor, another ship had cut in front of us to get into position first to unload. In a quick moment it struck a submerged mine in the harbor and blew up in front of us. There did not appear to be any survivors as it sank almost immediately. It could well have been our ship instead!</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;">I feel that Divine Protection had accompanied me and my group and the words of the poem written by my Uncle Dillon mean more and more each day. I will conclude this story by sharing with you his poem entitled:</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;"><strong style="box-sizing: border-box;">THE OTTERBEIN SIXTEEN</strong><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />by C. Dillon Sell<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />When the cruel tyrant, Hitler, menaced freedom in our land,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />When he had a goodly portion of the earth within his hand,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />There was a force he had not reckoned-a force to him was unforeseen,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />That Force was the God of Heaven–and THE OTTERBEIN SIXTEEN.</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;">Sixteen boys from Otterbein, all strong and true and brave,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Were called to don a uniform and sail across the wave.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />While our enemy was lurking in his hidden submarine,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />But God of Love was with them—with THE OTTERBEIN SIXTEEN.</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;">When our boys were called to leave us, to defend our country fair,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Then we prayed to God of Heaven, with a heart of Fervent Prayer.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Altho many miles from us, with the ocean, wide, between,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />We had faith in God of Heaven and THE OTTERBEIN SIXTEEN.</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;">We did not ask a path of roses for our boys beyond the foam,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Not a place for sweet reposes, but that he bring them safely home,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />That he protect them while on duty-that he keep them pure, serene,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />That the world might see His beauty in THE OTTERBEIN SIXTEEN.</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;">So, our boys were widely scattered, sent to many a foreign land. <br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />There they turned the tide of battle-there they stayed the tyrant’s hand.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />And our prayers have all been answered because to this our Lord hath seen,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />That NO ONE was killed or wounded of THE OTTERBEIN SIXTEEN.</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;">We know God’s hand was o’er them–we trusted in His care.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />As we petitioned for them, as we knelt in Fervent Prayer,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />We know God’s love abounded, who else could intervene,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />That NOT ONE be killed or wounded of THE OTTERBEIN SIXTEEN!</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;">The 16 service men, THE Otterbein Sixteen, were: Clifford Beougher, Charles Berry, Ned Berry, Bill Book, Rea Book, Russell Book, Albert Clutter, Lowell Deitsch, Jacob Keoppel, Harold Leighner, Carl Sell, Leroy Sell, Lowell Sell, Paul Sell, Henry Warthman, and Bud Williams. [end of story and poem]</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;">This is Lowell Sell’s 1938 Rockford High School yearbook photo (<em style="box-sizing: border-box;">Ancestry.com</em> photo):</p><div class="wp-caption aligncenter" id="attachment_20926" style="background: none; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); clear: both; color: #4a474b; float: none; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; height: auto; margin: 0px auto 1em; max-width: 100%; padding: 0px; width: 181px;"><img alt="" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-20926" class="wp-image-20926 size-medium" decoding="async" height="300" sizes="(max-width: 181px) 100vw, 181px" src="https://karenmillerbennett.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/Sell-Lowell-1938-RHS-181x300.png" srcset="https://karenmillerbennett.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/Sell-Lowell-1938-RHS-181x300.png 181w, https://karenmillerbennett.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/Sell-Lowell-1938-RHS.png 222w" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; height: auto; margin: 0px; max-width: 100%; padding: 0px; vertical-align: middle;" width="181" /><p class="wp-caption-text" id="caption-attachment-20926" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #818081; font-size: 13px; font-style: italic; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 5px 0px 0px; padding: 5px; text-align: center;">Lowell Sell, 1938, Rockford High School</p></div><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;">Tragically, 89 soldiers were killed and 152 injured when Troop Train 2890 wrecked at St. Valery-en-Caux, France, on 17 January 1945.</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;">I found a couple on-line accounts of this troop train accident, the stories of other survivors. Sgt Lowell Sell is mentioned several times in the recollections of Russell C. Eustice, who was also on the train. [1] Links to two other online articles about the wreck are below. [2] [3] The last link includes a photo of the wreck, probably taken by a French resident there.</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;">Sgt. Lowell D. Sell (1923-2011) served in the 1471 Engineering Maintenance Co. His brothers Carl A. Sell (1917-2003) and Paul I. Sell (1926-2014) also served in WWII, as did their cousin Otis “Leroy” Sell (1916-1968).</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;">This Veterans Day, thank you to all veterans for your service!</p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(74, 71, 75); color: #4a474b; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em; padding: 0px;">Thank a veteran today!</p><p></p><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /></div>Silent Calhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16592908760103622995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-603097880624761368.post-48798554918441825422023-11-09T17:47:00.002-08:002023-11-09T17:47:50.266-08:00It's a buckeye.<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5-Y_eqaakm52ywgCs0iItc3Nyz46UsvkPx3HXTJCeTLSQTKl2PD4gGjVL2WSaa3rjXJaz37w7MxWLslPN4Z0FoA2lrGIWQI1qvd_MADiwQWrUtQd6GGsGewT2tnETiQzVOTdZ3qWPNrlTO7a2Zhc72Iwdm7Mknakpwb5dlXCEUwOlR3alw0Wvkshg/s704/Buckeye.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="596" data-original-width="704" height="350" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5-Y_eqaakm52ywgCs0iItc3Nyz46UsvkPx3HXTJCeTLSQTKl2PD4gGjVL2WSaa3rjXJaz37w7MxWLslPN4Z0FoA2lrGIWQI1qvd_MADiwQWrUtQd6GGsGewT2tnETiQzVOTdZ3qWPNrlTO7a2Zhc72Iwdm7Mknakpwb5dlXCEUwOlR3alw0Wvkshg/w414-h350/Buckeye.jpeg" width="414" /></a></div></blockquote><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; white-space: pre-wrap;">We were at the Cleveland Clinic a few weeks ago. I stopped at McDonalds for a couple senior coffees for the road. Two old black guys were behind me, waiting for their order. I noticed the one guy had an Ohio State hat. I turned around and asked him if he was a Buckeye fan? He was hesitant, we were in a black area of Cleveland......I was the only white person in the whole place. He responded that indeed....he was a fan. I reached in my pocket and handed him a </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a style="color: #385898; cursor: pointer;" tabindex="-1"></a></span><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; white-space: pre-wrap;">buckeye nut. I told him I always carried one for luck and wanted him to have it. You would have thought I had given him a hundred bucks. “I have never seen a buckeye” he said, and gave me a heartfelt thanks. I told him the buckeyes always brought me luck and I hoped it did the same for him, I keep spares at home.</span></span></p><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">We parted ways friends.</span></div></div>Silent Calhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16592908760103622995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-603097880624761368.post-54500922205733455162023-06-30T09:01:00.002-07:002023-07-07T18:33:24.809-07:00Nora Peterson Rodenbeck<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">Congratulations Chuck.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">30 May 2023</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">Your daughter Rachel and her husband Mycal have produced your first grandchild, a beautiful baby girl. She is perfect, has two wonderful parents and is destined for a great life. I am so happy...but jealous.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi_l0UknRFwcTW7SiSclUPmZLrQsiKqKOKFRnGyhhbGg2b50vnT1lc39dvdAO-25LIv0Tno9oK42fKNjRED2-dBSGj0li-d4Q7YkYNDR3_L2aIBU-zlgitiYIP2k7GhhvW2TxYdhFiOh03oQRvXepWJW8q-BCm5Y3KetBIbSEZfpzKWXxIEbHaVAr0/s640/NoraPHoodie.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="572" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi_l0UknRFwcTW7SiSclUPmZLrQsiKqKOKFRnGyhhbGg2b50vnT1lc39dvdAO-25LIv0Tno9oK42fKNjRED2-dBSGj0li-d4Q7YkYNDR3_L2aIBU-zlgitiYIP2k7GhhvW2TxYdhFiOh03oQRvXepWJW8q-BCm5Y3KetBIbSEZfpzKWXxIEbHaVAr0/w358-h400/NoraPHoodie.jpeg" width="358" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">We met Rachel last week and took Nora in her first long stroller ride around Parkview Hospital. Linda and I were so glad Rachel </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">thought of us.</span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">We should have celebrated your 71st birthday this year but your name lives on in Nora Peterson Rodenbeck. You can be proud.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmOo6xmTX_fAiCOgD-wahEw84J_O8INtyl2uvYGc5g7RdU_I9dSoZSLVyn9ew928Slk9MBItA0W-F7ucGxZfbFsMDZH1ODfSd1AajIKl9zz5SW6WfqP6L4Z8Hf7KXFRc3vSg0AWHy-uxpOe_Jgw4Afhnn-jge33mK9r6c40t_ouwbPCjiDQcQ9g-a3/s800/ChuckRachelLatta1985.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="537" data-original-width="800" height="269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmOo6xmTX_fAiCOgD-wahEw84J_O8INtyl2uvYGc5g7RdU_I9dSoZSLVyn9ew928Slk9MBItA0W-F7ucGxZfbFsMDZH1ODfSd1AajIKl9zz5SW6WfqP6L4Z8Hf7KXFRc3vSg0AWHy-uxpOe_Jgw4Afhnn-jge33mK9r6c40t_ouwbPCjiDQcQ9g-a3/w400-h269/ChuckRachelLatta1985.jpeg" width="400" /></a></span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>Silent Calhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16592908760103622995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-603097880624761368.post-36595814861512615122023-06-29T06:48:00.002-07:002023-06-29T06:59:44.403-07:00The Sunshine Skyway Bridge.<p style="text-align: center;"> <span face="system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Sunshine Skyway, Florida. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span face="system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I crossed this bridge driving a large truck about once a week for 30 years. I once had a truck break down at the top. The wrecker had to leave from St. Petersburg, drive south across the bridge, turn around and cross the bridge going north (picking my truck up on the way).</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span face="system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We moved to Florida in 1982, two years before a freighter hit the old bridge in a bad fog, killing 35 people. The fog was so bad no one recognized the bridge had collapsed and cars and buses kept driving into the bay.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: medium;"><span face="system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; text-align: start;">The old bridge stood for years with one side gone. Mangled steel hanging....a reminder of the Greyhound bus that went over the side. My Mom always closed her eyes for the entire trip across. There is a telephone at the top </span><a style="color: #385898; cursor: pointer; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; text-align: start;" tabindex="-1"></a><span face="system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; text-align: start;">for suicide jumpers to make one last call. I talked a friend down at the top one night about 2am. Funny, he had a gun and was going to shoot himself before jumping? I told him to give me the gun...the fall alone was sufficient.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyClIlAqJM4ROS20WbytTk579yrrm0h8Mr-8U2mNCrzxNG5MHEcViJFYmAwgm7RCdDdo3XP_jtM9axNu-xrAcCXviAbnPF8n6WaL9qm8YwY6bOC4X0v0qlyKJl-mOWYmI0nZhj3oCs2Urn9KY6fdqesG3_Wf7RayPijD5OvR1iVCnoguajs2FSllRE/s960/357355461_10229883891945510_84919737489391571_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="768" height="516" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyClIlAqJM4ROS20WbytTk579yrrm0h8Mr-8U2mNCrzxNG5MHEcViJFYmAwgm7RCdDdo3XP_jtM9axNu-xrAcCXviAbnPF8n6WaL9qm8YwY6bOC4X0v0qlyKJl-mOWYmI0nZhj3oCs2Urn9KY6fdqesG3_Wf7RayPijD5OvR1iVCnoguajs2FSllRE/w412-h516/357355461_10229883891945510_84919737489391571_n.jpg" width="412" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><span face="system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif" style="background-color: #f0f2f5; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; text-align: start;"><br /></span></span><p></p>Silent Calhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16592908760103622995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-603097880624761368.post-82394019718365009292023-04-17T18:54:00.000-07:002023-04-17T18:54:50.433-07:00William Henry Harrison 9th President<p dir="rtl" style="text-align: center;"> <span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>William Henry Harrison</b></span></p><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">William Henry Harrison, an American military officer and politician, was the ninth President of the United States (1841), the oldest President to be elected at the time. On his 32nd day, he became the first to die in office, serving the shortest tenure in U.S. Presidential history.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">William Harrison was an aide to Mad Anthony Wayne, for who Fort Wayne, Indiana is named.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">My <span style="font-family: inherit;"><a style="color: #385898; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit;" tabindex="-1"></a></span>great great grandfather, Rev. David McMichael's second wife (Maria Harrison) was a 2nd cousin of President Harrison. Their child, Mary Caroline McMichael was the mother of Laura Boice....my mother's mother.</span></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKU7Ob10ZgpFiNCtzdImFjhDW7_3TpypHOTvtBq5H7HVwQFdsnJBAPNOIhJs3S4US-0tCNgIEBbQWSzjeBfGSrp8vVUS3xZ5vlWvSofOnAByAl4wJV2SuUsaU7_qgd7g--bG809qdz3m-oJSJJQtOagVuTJTG_-4bLruX8c6FjJ5XG5Q5SFWTOhQ/s1250/341276902_614565007379643_4159239155699589871_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1250" data-original-width="1250" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKU7Ob10ZgpFiNCtzdImFjhDW7_3TpypHOTvtBq5H7HVwQFdsnJBAPNOIhJs3S4US-0tCNgIEBbQWSzjeBfGSrp8vVUS3xZ5vlWvSofOnAByAl4wJV2SuUsaU7_qgd7g--bG809qdz3m-oJSJJQtOagVuTJTG_-4bLruX8c6FjJ5XG5Q5SFWTOhQ/w400-h400/341276902_614565007379643_4159239155699589871_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXJjXXKA6OaBhra_dAIgfFDC6jE0kqCnV_8j_5Yizk2mD87SQizlJFjVSS9DJmkFwPsQ7YY2K3M6DlELs27fAcTVcpWp34l28v0P_2jejqidwts6MqLlPar22IoGgMWpeJ3r_OdYQ3OFzdHYH2b-x_8eQBT2TjBj9FOYDa7UF1TnDqe_j6zCY6LA/s1000/341691403_592371809509447_1877623538721492941_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="539" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXJjXXKA6OaBhra_dAIgfFDC6jE0kqCnV_8j_5Yizk2mD87SQizlJFjVSS9DJmkFwPsQ7YY2K3M6DlELs27fAcTVcpWp34l28v0P_2jejqidwts6MqLlPar22IoGgMWpeJ3r_OdYQ3OFzdHYH2b-x_8eQBT2TjBj9FOYDa7UF1TnDqe_j6zCY6LA/w215-h400/341691403_592371809509447_1877623538721492941_n.jpg" width="215" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2StSc0NecBN-FB-VMFM-QNTs2j6yCXOYdcQ7TY4_rTJPbt4Ye_CS360kvJvUI0H6YSn8yI5L081Jl6ftI_mBiWVhkNaU4DEjUYQb20eeEpU16SF--Q4y9iS0FNiu5y6MSn01K573q9ol1WtYPrsRZA_Deqfyg0e9feBOgRVH0Ylux3SUziC2j0w/s900/341750592_531377972515897_5016634385561654251_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="900" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2StSc0NecBN-FB-VMFM-QNTs2j6yCXOYdcQ7TY4_rTJPbt4Ye_CS360kvJvUI0H6YSn8yI5L081Jl6ftI_mBiWVhkNaU4DEjUYQb20eeEpU16SF--Q4y9iS0FNiu5y6MSn01K573q9ol1WtYPrsRZA_Deqfyg0e9feBOgRVH0Ylux3SUziC2j0w/w640-h410/341750592_531377972515897_5016634385561654251_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /></div></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw32lXddLhBXgdxzNwesjT0EFGyQJyLE7EyKC_uvpAcJ2zzFJzBr2NNy4Vlda_uAw_VRryQC_JY5wVLib49wqkmGOgBJrUoYECArWxC-AS3xEonjj3Vjnhct_9ozL-xw3Q-8kbsUIOzjs0DkfavOowTQz-JhrbpzDWI361KGSm8wSEdll31THenA/s1000/341766366_245585684586434_730232696445644110_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="619" data-original-width="1000" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw32lXddLhBXgdxzNwesjT0EFGyQJyLE7EyKC_uvpAcJ2zzFJzBr2NNy4Vlda_uAw_VRryQC_JY5wVLib49wqkmGOgBJrUoYECArWxC-AS3xEonjj3Vjnhct_9ozL-xw3Q-8kbsUIOzjs0DkfavOowTQz-JhrbpzDWI361KGSm8wSEdll31THenA/w400-h248/341766366_245585684586434_730232696445644110_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div></div></blockquote><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;"><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div></div>Silent Calhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16592908760103622995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-603097880624761368.post-55077149822391863602023-04-06T07:09:00.000-07:002023-04-06T07:09:44.798-07:00A visit with the Lintons.<p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> <span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; white-space: pre-wrap;">A little history.</span></span><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></p><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"> I just rescued this old picture of my grandmother's family. Taken in 1928 in Midland Michigan. It's a great picture but has one caveat. One person, the baby in the picture, Irene Macklin Weaver is alive and well in Geneva, Indiana. </span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">My grandfather took some wonderful pictures with that Brownie Camera.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiZaguPU4dQiAo2DZkZMOnUuML6JdUfnO-5l1rMHudqHE44A1HhmwFy7S3ht5pQZifXQgCoCi-ydNmroSxIlDEtiVi9TdoPkUI60xu1gEOx195bOlmvs0uEdfsCtim9jSsHsfkpTz3qTIyuKh-uWp5f21RZNlOJUSbhv_sXrHEIDUKwhBlr4-yQqA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1224" data-original-width="1216" height="598" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiZaguPU4dQiAo2DZkZMOnUuML6JdUfnO-5l1rMHudqHE44A1HhmwFy7S3ht5pQZifXQgCoCi-ydNmroSxIlDEtiVi9TdoPkUI60xu1gEOx195bOlmvs0uEdfsCtim9jSsHsfkpTz3qTIyuKh-uWp5f21RZNlOJUSbhv_sXrHEIDUKwhBlr4-yQqA=w614-h598" width="614" /></a></div><br /></span></div></div>Silent Calhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16592908760103622995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-603097880624761368.post-44523632337429286722023-03-15T05:53:00.005-07:002024-01-04T18:33:33.482-08:00Shopping at Kroger.<blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">We were almost involved in a three cart pileup in aisle 14 at Dupont Kroger yesterday.</p></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px; text-align: center;"><br /></p></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">Linda was upset that there was no diet cranberry juice left so she pulled into traffic, almost t-boned a guy racing to the toilet paper aisle with one of those small, sleek grocery carts. After apologies we headed to the produce department for romaine lettuce…..too late.</p></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px; text-align: center;"><br /></p></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">Racing back to the egg cooler, we snagged one of the last three dozens, snatching the eggs from the hesitant old lady who was deciding if she would go organic.</p></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px; text-align: center;"><br /></p></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">Damn…..they are out of coffee creamer again.</p></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px; text-align: center;"><br /></p></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">Headed for the self checkout, carefully sanitizing the touch screen. Searching for UPC labels we scanned, paid and bagged our groceries. We failed to load all the coupons from the web site but still thanked the mysterious talking lady inside the checkout for her service. </p></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px; text-align: center;"><br /></p></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">Walking out we complained to the Bagging Guard that we didn’t get an invite to the Kroger company picnic. </p></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px; text-align: center;"><br /></p></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">The parking lot was packed, we dodged frantic shoppers searching for a parking space. Found car. Forgot eggs.</p></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px; text-align: center;"><br /></p></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">Heading home.</p></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiEniOb-0nKa-RdJRzjfL7mM73oMvpcOm1SbNIzMR1-Ymmy7bRi4Ld6RgpZQPuWnkq0fnpRcjAR0V725v5xoruta20wyYPrVE9bKsUl2CBLsJQyriASteCmB11mi7j07zYrCw4wO8PlQrYlMivdTdKia15Idxf1oJB_uk707meCi0Lv_U4owFzTHs8/s942/Shopping.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="606" data-original-width="942" height="479" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiEniOb-0nKa-RdJRzjfL7mM73oMvpcOm1SbNIzMR1-Ymmy7bRi4Ld6RgpZQPuWnkq0fnpRcjAR0V725v5xoruta20wyYPrVE9bKsUl2CBLsJQyriASteCmB11mi7j07zYrCw4wO8PlQrYlMivdTdKia15Idxf1oJB_uk707meCi0Lv_U4owFzTHs8/w484-h479/Shopping.jpeg" width="484" /></a></div><p></p></blockquote><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div dir="auto" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>Silent Calhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16592908760103622995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-603097880624761368.post-20360017037135408382023-01-27T09:29:00.001-08:002023-01-27T09:29:23.787-08:00Paradise Lakes Nudist Colony<p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyERjZrnixorNDidZ-95un1KsxlXelQh63ZcIoNNzaWkFtx_psgxKNcCeP8D84usWmLwEzJoErj9hvmQKvO9IgtHgEqwd2GA2BxSnSir5lcIhDz3cGj_HHkCj7g0TYh0XkS973UuN0vwP4GTciqnKriZYnl94WHiqJW2l4xq4IKDM0Mt3A4MjmBA/s259/images.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyERjZrnixorNDidZ-95un1KsxlXelQh63ZcIoNNzaWkFtx_psgxKNcCeP8D84usWmLwEzJoErj9hvmQKvO9IgtHgEqwd2GA2BxSnSir5lcIhDz3cGj_HHkCj7g0TYh0XkS973UuN0vwP4GTciqnKriZYnl94WHiqJW2l4xq4IKDM0Mt3A4MjmBA/w425-h298/images.jpeg" width="425" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <span>There are three or four Nudist Colonies north of Tampa, about 15 miles, near Land of Lakes.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">The largest one, Paradise Lakes was a customer of mine when we lived in Florida. They had condos, mobile home park, apartments and RV camping.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">I supplied them with mattresses.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">The property manager had contacted me about 1995 and I went to talk to him about deliveries. He insisted that price was important but he was more concerned about my delivery men. He was adamant about their behavior and wanted them to be discreet, make the delivery, no gawking....and get out.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">I agreed that I, personally, would make all deliveries with one helper.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> I got the job.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">I scheduled most of our deliveries on the day they had their Tennis Tournaments.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">I have a hundred stories...... but my favorite is this one:</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">We had a delivery for the Condos, queen set....upstairs. My oldest driver was with me, the residents put some clothes on and we soon discovered the box spring would not go up the stairs. Our plan was to put the mattress on the roof on my 26' box truck and then back up to a patio deck....lift the mattress over the patio railing and then carry the box through the patio doors.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Tom (a Jehovah Witness) and I struggled to lift the mattress about 8 feet up onto the truck's box top. We had the mattress in our hands, over our heads struggling to lift it when we heard a voice "do you guys want a hand?" I didn't look back, I knew someone had ridden up on a bike. I said "sure".</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Before we knew it a totally nude old man had climbed up on the truck top and was pulling the mattress, standing between us. We made our delivery, thanked the nudist and discreetly exited the grounds.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>Silent Calhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16592908760103622995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-603097880624761368.post-1706135329202616482023-01-21T09:21:00.003-08:002023-01-21T09:21:40.765-08:00Boices and Fort Amsterdam.<p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO2vnr-NzRdVMOvppqfkH_hJpIFjpL8DG_8Qpp4XSWEDrOHJmNzTjTXlgIa6YU75SEqUxn0aCJr3ir11yN8IfIin7dFNtH4GNNuJWcSZalOizqshWzbgNzhEG0cKOfx2HLJncfZv4vP-ELeVbTGgwFq-9LLS8_ZEPhpJW6mcXYA0QwaB5l6SNiZA/s954/BoiceTimelineFromAmsterdam.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="752" data-original-width="954" height="504" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO2vnr-NzRdVMOvppqfkH_hJpIFjpL8DG_8Qpp4XSWEDrOHJmNzTjTXlgIa6YU75SEqUxn0aCJr3ir11yN8IfIin7dFNtH4GNNuJWcSZalOizqshWzbgNzhEG0cKOfx2HLJncfZv4vP-ELeVbTGgwFq-9LLS8_ZEPhpJW6mcXYA0QwaB5l6SNiZA/w641-h504/BoiceTimelineFromAmsterdam.jpeg" width="641" /></a></div> <br /><p></p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAPshN5KkWIDemre8fCeHONtlB2PuYbFAepKnIpnRxYqlC6k4wyrOZC4fM_064ZLkbGfFgx_Bbany1NNiRtGmMbrPKm9R7NnIJ2bzuhWRtA_RAQfPjNEEKABbMUJ55-8e1XncnbhO-ZiPzhQi2UDwDZP4cvfhJy9hkkLfKOOu8UvCIoSO3UZb1Hg/s2354/FortAmsterdamOverManhattan.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2354" data-original-width="2150" height="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAPshN5KkWIDemre8fCeHONtlB2PuYbFAepKnIpnRxYqlC6k4wyrOZC4fM_064ZLkbGfFgx_Bbany1NNiRtGmMbrPKm9R7NnIJ2bzuhWRtA_RAQfPjNEEKABbMUJ55-8e1XncnbhO-ZiPzhQi2UDwDZP4cvfhJy9hkkLfKOOu8UvCIoSO3UZb1Hg/w568-h555/FortAmsterdamOverManhattan.jpeg" width="568" /></a></div><br />Silent Calhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16592908760103622995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-603097880624761368.post-66761501464701803342023-01-19T07:39:00.006-08:002023-07-07T18:36:11.302-07:00Karl Otto Moreland Wittwer<p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif;"><div class="x1cy8zhl x78zum5 x1q0g3np xod5an3 x1pi30zi x1swvt13 xz9dl7a" style="align-items: flex-start; display: flex; flex-direction: row; font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 12px; padding-left: 16px; padding-right: 16px; padding-top: 12px;"><div class="x1iyjqo2" style="flex-grow: 1; font-family: inherit;"><div class="x78zum5 xdt5ytf xz62fqu x16ldp7u" style="display: flex; flex-direction: column; font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: -5px; margin-top: -5px;"><div class="xu06os2 x1ok221b" style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-top: 5px;"><span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs xlh3980 xvmahel x1n0sxbx x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x x4zkp8e x3x7a5m x6prxxf xvq8zen xo1l8bm xi81zsa x1yc453h" dir="auto" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; display: block; font-family: inherit; line-height: 1.3333; max-width: 100%; min-width: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; word-break: break-word;"><h3 class="x1heor9g x1qlqyl8 x1pd3egz x1a2a7pz x1gslohp x1yc453h" id="jsc_c_mw" style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 4px 0px 0px; outline: currentcolor; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="xt0psk2" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; cursor: pointer; display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 600; list-style: none; margin: 0px; outline: currentcolor; padding: 0px; text-align: inherit; text-decoration: none; touch-action: manipulation;"><span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><a class="x1i10hfl xjbqb8w x6umtig x1b1mbwd xaqea5y xav7gou x9f619 x1ypdohk xt0psk2 xe8uvvx xdj266r x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r xexx8yu x4uap5 x18d9i69 xkhd6sd x16tdsg8 x1hl2dhg xggy1nq x1a2a7pz xt0b8zv xzsf02u x1s688f" href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/321941765228124/user/1354871533/?__cft__[0]=AZX-KtkW0Dvo9EWRbpqQEYzA-jcp4eOUfSdfX42x-Po9G7K1DyfZ4MSchY0E_7s7ln2I4vp8OIO4CgiMT7jYdJ9HhLwJRLXTZRpr7OTPZ_sLJd19M7bE5Ang7mql9_Ufpk5pDvliG6Qm7Y-tFn1QaT3s&__tn__=-UC%2CP-R" role="link" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; cursor: pointer; display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 600; list-style: none; margin: 0px; outline: currentcolor; padding: 0px; text-align: inherit; text-decoration: none; touch-action: manipulation;" tabindex="0">John Peterson</a> </span></strong></span></span></h3><h3 class="x1heor9g x1qlqyl8 x1pd3egz x1a2a7pz x1gslohp x1yc453h" id="jsc_c_mw" style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 4px 0px 0px; outline: currentcolor; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="xt0psk2" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; cursor: pointer; display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 600; list-style: none; margin: 0px; outline: currentcolor; padding: 0px; text-align: inherit; text-decoration: none; touch-action: manipulation;"><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">GreatGreatGreatGrandson of</span></strong></span></span></h3><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="xt0psk2" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;"><strong style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; cursor: pointer; display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 600; list-style: none; margin: 0px; outline: currentcolor; padding: 0px; text-align: inherit; text-decoration: none; touch-action: manipulation;"><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">Karl Otto Moreland Wittwer</span></strong></span></span></div></span></div><div class="xu06os2 x1ok221b" style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-top: 5px;"><span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs xlh3980 xvmahel x1n0sxbx x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x x4zkp8e x676frb x1nxh6w3 x1sibtaa xo1l8bm xi81zsa x1yc453h" color="var(--secondary-text)" dir="auto" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; display: block; font-family: inherit; font-size: 0.8125rem; line-height: 1.2308; max-width: 100%; min-width: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; word-break: break-word;"><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="x1i10hfl xjbqb8w x6umtig x1b1mbwd xaqea5y xav7gou x9f619 x1ypdohk xt0psk2 xe8uvvx xdj266r x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r xexx8yu x4uap5 x18d9i69 xkhd6sd x16tdsg8 x1hl2dhg xggy1nq x1a2a7pz x1heor9g xt0b8zv xo1l8bm" href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/321941765228124/posts/1247260519362906/?__cft__[0]=AZX-KtkW0Dvo9EWRbpqQEYzA-jcp4eOUfSdfX42x-Po9G7K1DyfZ4MSchY0E_7s7ln2I4vp8OIO4CgiMT7jYdJ9HhLwJRLXTZRpr7OTPZ_sLJd19M7bE5Ang7mql9_Ufpk5pDvliG6Qm7Y-tFn1QaT3s&__tn__=%2CO%2CP-R" role="link" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; cursor: pointer; display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-size: 0.8125rem; list-style: none; margin: 0px; outline: currentcolor; padding: 0px; text-align: inherit; text-decoration: none; touch-action: manipulation;" tabindex="0"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span aria-labelledby="jsc_c_n4" class="x1rg5ohu x6ikm8r x10wlt62 x16dsc37 xt0b8zv" style="display: inline-block; font-family: inherit; overflow: hidden; vertical-align: top;"><b class="xmper1u xt0psk2 xjb2p0i x1qlqyl8 x15bjb6t x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5" style="cursor: inherit; display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit; position: relative;"><b class="xmper1u x1qlqyl8 x1r8a4m5 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5" style="cursor: inherit; font-size: inherit; position: relative; text-decoration: inherit;">J</b><b class="x1qlqyl8 x15bjb6t x1r8a4m5 xi7du73 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5" style="font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit; position: relative; text-decoration: inherit; vertical-align: inherit;">u</b><b class="xjb2p0i x1r8a4m5 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5" style="font-family: inherit; position: relative; text-decoration: inherit;">l</b><b class="xmper1u x15bjb6t xi7du73 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5" style="cursor: inherit; line-height: inherit; position: relative; vertical-align: inherit;">y</b><b class="xmper1u xt0psk2 xjb2p0i x1qlqyl8 x15bjb6t x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5" style="cursor: inherit; display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit; position: relative;"> </b><b class="xt0psk2 x1qlqyl8 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5" style="display: inline; font-size: inherit; position: relative;">3</b><b class="xmper1u xt0psk2 xjb2p0i x1qlqyl8 x15bjb6t x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5" style="cursor: inherit; display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit; position: relative;">0</b><b class="xjb2p0i x1r8a4m5 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5" style="font-family: inherit; position: relative; text-decoration: inherit;">,</b><b class="xmper1u xt0psk2 xjb2p0i x1qlqyl8 x15bjb6t x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5" style="cursor: inherit; display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit; position: relative;"> </b><b class="xmper1u x1qlqyl8 x1r8a4m5 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5" style="cursor: inherit; font-size: inherit; position: relative; text-decoration: inherit;">2</b><b class="xmper1u xt0psk2 xjb2p0i x1qlqyl8 x15bjb6t x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5" style="cursor: inherit; display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit; position: relative;">0</b><b class="xmper1u x1qlqyl8 x1r8a4m5 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5" style="cursor: inherit; font-size: inherit; position: relative; text-decoration: inherit;">2</b><b class="xmper1u x1qlqyl8 x1r8a4m5 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5" style="cursor: inherit; font-size: inherit; position: relative; text-decoration: inherit;">2</b></b></span></span></a></div><span id="jsc_c_mx" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="xh99ass" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="xzpqnlu xjm9jq1 x6ikm8r x10wlt62 x10l6tqk x1i1rx1s" style="clip: rect(0px, 0px, 0px, 0px); font-family: inherit; height: 1px; overflow: hidden; position: absolute; text-align: center; width: 1px;"> </span><span aria-hidden="true" style="font-family: inherit;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span color="var(--secondary-text)" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 0.8125rem;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span color="var(--primary-text)" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 0.9375rem; white-space: pre-wrap;">Tomorrow, we, the descendants of Karl Otto Moreland Wittwer will gather in the Swiss community of Berne, Indiana, to celebrate our Swiss heritage amongst fellow relatives.</span></div></span></span></span></span></span></div></div></div></div></div><div style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); color: #1c1e21; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><div class="x1iorvi4 x1pi30zi x1l90r2v x1swvt13" data-ad-comet-preview="message" data-ad-preview="message" id="jsc_c_my" style="font-family: inherit; padding: 4px 16px 16px;"><div class="x78zum5 xdt5ytf xz62fqu x16ldp7u" style="display: flex; flex-direction: column; font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: -5px; margin-top: -5px;"><div class="xu06os2 x1ok221b" style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-top: 5px;"><span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs xlh3980 xvmahel x1n0sxbx x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x x4zkp8e x3x7a5m x6prxxf xvq8zen xo1l8bm xzsf02u x1yc453h" color="var(--primary-text)" dir="auto" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; display: block; font-family: inherit; line-height: 1.3333; max-width: 100%; min-width: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; word-break: break-word;"><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xdj266r x126k92a" style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 0.9375rem; text-align: center;">Karl's story: Karl, 39 and his wife Barbara, 38 departed LeHavre, France aboard the sailing ship "Germania". They had traveled from their home in Switzerland, probably by oxcart, 500 miles to reach the port in France. They had 4 children with them, ages 12, 9, 5, and 1. Barbara gave birth to another child <span style="font-family: inherit;"><a style="color: #385898; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit;" tabindex="-1"></a></span>11 days after they arrived in New York.</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 0.9375rem; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 0.9375rem; text-align: center;">This is what I imagine to be Karl and Barbara's trip to be like:</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 0.9375rem; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">The Emigrant Travels to Le Havre</span></b></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 0.9375rem; text-align: center;">Karl and his family likely booked their passage on a relatively small (197 passengers) sailing ship. Most passengers are listed as "Farmer" (many were probably landless day laborers) and the majority came from Prussia, although there were also travelers from Baden, Wuerttemberg, Bavaria, Hesse and Switzerland with lesser passengers from France, Italy, England and the United States. At first, it was necessary for emigrants to make arrangements for passage directly with the captains of the vessels. During the sailing season there were thus always several thousand persons waiting to leave. They could be obliged to wait for weeks, partly in lodging houses, partly outdoors. A German colony of innkeepers, shopkeepers and brokers materialized to service them. Agents began meeting the emigrants on the road to Le Havre to sign them up. After the French government required in 1837 that Germans present a valid ticket at the French border, local offices began to be opened in Switzerland and the German states. </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 0.9375rem; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 0.9375rem; text-align: center;">Again, as elsewhere, French authorities did not want large numbers of indigent would-be emigrants stranded in the port. Previously, the only document required to cross the border had been a passport. During most of this period, emigrants were required to bring their own provisions. It is sometimes thought that this was disadvantage compared to German ports, where early on, emigrants were provided with meals on board. In reality, many southern Germans were decidedly unimpressed by North German cuisine and such unfamiliar foods as herring, and preferred to bring their own. On the other hand, Bremen and Hamburg did take more steps to protect emigrants from unscrupulous agents and salesmen who sold them overly expensive and sometimes unnecessary goods.</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 0.9375rem; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 0.9375rem; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8yrsXWxeSav3OYzz9KlBY1MDhh4Z2bbrtsSoJBuSMDkBDq-a_YHCL0qil7O3Lob4Bjh4oYB3BSS-UJL42mLwfqUrJVgp551XZQqzZfu_XJXYc2wrpF2AOPE0GHyqqPkbCT6fWB6hzOdOqtPpUG8Yg1KTKfR0N_qlca6OBzKcXtlrKiIeneWJVww/s742/296786667_10227608022770203_1049656537513228215_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="688" data-original-width="742" height="371" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8yrsXWxeSav3OYzz9KlBY1MDhh4Z2bbrtsSoJBuSMDkBDq-a_YHCL0qil7O3Lob4Bjh4oYB3BSS-UJL42mLwfqUrJVgp551XZQqzZfu_XJXYc2wrpF2AOPE0GHyqqPkbCT6fWB6hzOdOqtPpUG8Yg1KTKfR0N_qlca6OBzKcXtlrKiIeneWJVww/w400-h371/296786667_10227608022770203_1049656537513228215_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 0.9375rem; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 0.9375rem; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: 700;"><span style="font-size: large;">Waiting for and Boarding Ships in Le Havre</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 0.9375rem; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: 0.9375rem;">"The accommodation of emigrants awaiting departure is a serious problem. The less fortunate sleep in the street, on the floor, or up makeshift tents on the banks of the streets and sidewalks of St. Francis and Notre Dame. Others took refuge in shacks close to the fortifications or in the plain with their baggage. In 1840, the "Revue du Havre" wrote that "the city is crowded with the poorest Bavarian immigrants... The floating population began to camp out on the ramparts of the east. They takes shelter under the elms; excavations in the thickness of slope ditches serve as their home ... Those who have two francs a day, can find accommodation among innkeepers of St. Francis and Our Lady, who specialize in taking care of immigrants. There are a dozen in 1850. As the Commissioner of the emigration noted, the high price of rents in the city of Le Havre force the landlords to establish themselves in the narrow streets in areas that are dirty and wet ... " Andre Corvisier There were two distinct categories of travelers - the passengers and the immigrants. The passengers in cabin class could take advantage to the comfort of ships that became ever faster and more luxurious. The immigrants were housed in steerage, just like the inanimate cargo they were replacing. It was usually miserable and overcrowded.</span></div><span style="font-size: 0.9375rem;"><br /></span><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 0.9375rem; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">We have to appreciate the fact that if Karl and Barbara had not endured this treacherous journey......none of us would be here.</span></b></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 0.9375rem; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 0.9375rem; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiioZ9LDMxYnaBW90aI1-5pQ2y7sXxJoHRgy0d3lG0n4dFsDufNFIfV2z3OvqCPuMKfhHnYGwJBXknhDXdHexCsbYs6JNuSnZt7acqG9nXr0_dJJRB4T471lUwpC-iI625AGYJaBOxnXFViIDLOC73yLGixIKSwd4BQizV-6atEqHBrie7YAJdrfA/s1187/296764895_10227608020410144_9217200603031376599_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1187" height="394" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiioZ9LDMxYnaBW90aI1-5pQ2y7sXxJoHRgy0d3lG0n4dFsDufNFIfV2z3OvqCPuMKfhHnYGwJBXknhDXdHexCsbYs6JNuSnZt7acqG9nXr0_dJJRB4T471lUwpC-iI625AGYJaBOxnXFViIDLOC73yLGixIKSwd4BQizV-6atEqHBrie7YAJdrfA/w426-h394/296764895_10227608020410144_9217200603031376599_n.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /></span></div></div></div></div></div>Silent Calhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16592908760103622995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-603097880624761368.post-57074730569122014502023-01-19T07:23:00.001-08:002023-01-19T07:23:04.100-08:00The Bluebirds of Happiness,<div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xdj266r x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">I have always loved bluebirds but wherever we lived, my bluebird houses were always full of English Sparrows. Some believe the bluebird is a symbol of joy and hope, others that they bring happiness.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">We have been here now for two years, living next to a 180 acre farm/park/nature preserve.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Salomon Park is a bluebird magnet! Hundreds of them, everywhere. A few weeks ago Linda and I saw about 25, joyously singing and flashing their brilliant blue around us. They congregate <a style="color: #385898; cursor: pointer;" tabindex="-1"></a>around our feeders and join me on my morning walk.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">I am not the only one who has noticed the blue birds. The adjacent Lutheran Church is going to construct a “Buebird Trail”. Dozens of houses will line the park and provide homes for the birds.</span></div></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">Now, that’s a blessing I can approve.</span> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQATgm5FV_WFqdVrgYJmBpsN9DZKi57wPMsbWbwC_C0P_cMEO-gvjFARg9HZEVU95xtxdQE6EZ-DSHX7xPMqQBLOsecfpKonqapjDj0Zi2KDa53Os_6jeZEQwLG6dRYAgQDK1PosOD2s8LmILKOE5djDCyea5RN7D-ObS4eaeDt5U_-k4M_w_2rQ/s1280/326576298_562858965475979_9206265007133892686_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQATgm5FV_WFqdVrgYJmBpsN9DZKi57wPMsbWbwC_C0P_cMEO-gvjFARg9HZEVU95xtxdQE6EZ-DSHX7xPMqQBLOsecfpKonqapjDj0Zi2KDa53Os_6jeZEQwLG6dRYAgQDK1PosOD2s8LmILKOE5djDCyea5RN7D-ObS4eaeDt5U_-k4M_w_2rQ/s320/326576298_562858965475979_9206265007133892686_n.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2mGr6pug0nvpXLP64yjOk1fHb_b6a36NMHA6wjOa6LW6242cf7ED4_Rr5u4jwWNoeB8hNL_2KYHKrwyHRs6lgS-7xi5UdgC9ConHoWjKQCKkOSvI_c1MJzQabTR6w3sNXFQX0EPK4uLMUXesfjwXGQTyPqqdX__zziNfUF1gQ0MAEmpTcy59p6g/s1280/325948815_1407182030025972_4612610900581618863_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2mGr6pug0nvpXLP64yjOk1fHb_b6a36NMHA6wjOa6LW6242cf7ED4_Rr5u4jwWNoeB8hNL_2KYHKrwyHRs6lgS-7xi5UdgC9ConHoWjKQCKkOSvI_c1MJzQabTR6w3sNXFQX0EPK4uLMUXesfjwXGQTyPqqdX__zziNfUF1gQ0MAEmpTcy59p6g/s320/325948815_1407182030025972_4612610900581618863_n.jpg" width="240" /></a><p></p>Silent Calhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16592908760103622995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-603097880624761368.post-28922054478339178572023-01-09T09:05:00.009-08:002023-01-16T08:02:42.290-08:00A Gift from George Wallace<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><div style="text-align: center;">I was reading the newspaper one morning in 1992 and was intrigued with an article about George Wallace, former governor of Alabama and presidential candidate in 1968. I was not a fan of George or his populist, segregationist view. What I admired about most about him was his lifelong support for blue-collar workers, and common folk.</div></span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">George Wallace was shot and permanently paralyzed below the waist in an assignation attempt on May 15, 1972. At the time he was a Democrat presidential candidate. Most people did not know that George Wallace renounced his segregationist ideology in the 1980's. He was reelected governor of Alabama in 1982 with substantial support of black voters. He retired in 1987 and spent the remaining years of his life raising money to send young people (both black and white) to his wife Lurleen's alma mater, Troy State University, in Troy Alabama.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">My daughter, Lisa, was in her first year of college at St. Petersburg Junior College. I told her about the article that said George gives a full ride scholarship to ONE Florida student every year....to Troy State. We decided to apply.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lisa and I sat down, wrote a letter to George and sent it to: Governor George Wallace, Montgomery, Alabama. (Nothing else). </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Yes, my daughter received that one scholarship. Her volunteerism, attitude, and wonderful personality was most important to Troy State. She was the winner of the Excellence in Leadership Scholarship.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">George Wallace gave us something that could not be appreciated at the time. Lisa graduated with a degree in Marketing in 1995, was active in a Sorority, made many friends and loved Alabama and "Southern Rock". </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lisa left this earth in 1999. Linda and I are so glad George and Troy State made her short life so wonderful.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiOhbDkrFRf2UHj-3cVCquE9hXl8AH52EtthldDT8PKT8muxs4Ww3hnGpGOxL-EP5cZxFVjKiJQvt3Y9lq_tn4nRJde0vbzspTXusys5ccmDV-_n6oc0ptSDZDKNgmcPMx-gVwkRz8qH5paV4BBW3sWH4hgein2LhhYMaph5D7I9zdKeGbQ_xDf1w" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1095" height="342" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiOhbDkrFRf2UHj-3cVCquE9hXl8AH52EtthldDT8PKT8muxs4Ww3hnGpGOxL-EP5cZxFVjKiJQvt3Y9lq_tn4nRJde0vbzspTXusys5ccmDV-_n6oc0ptSDZDKNgmcPMx-gVwkRz8qH5paV4BBW3sWH4hgein2LhhYMaph5D7I9zdKeGbQ_xDf1w=w264-h342" width="264" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkS4hkOa1knM0W8m_ZePTJ7ejhgC0TwtS1uuieBpMiJPN5KQdlyVSIaP5xKfw7tI370IyGJAKu6dgI_lJAmNat9wbZJ6wSudUWqjsJRSJWgGWF8o4dq3QdtDWdVgTnOXFsB-kh08uYVx9B5iqrroROc-mbc3IyOotObtpTM9Uod5f4_DZ3yzhSXw/s580/LisaScholarship.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="508" data-original-width="580" height="411" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkS4hkOa1knM0W8m_ZePTJ7ejhgC0TwtS1uuieBpMiJPN5KQdlyVSIaP5xKfw7tI370IyGJAKu6dgI_lJAmNat9wbZJ6wSudUWqjsJRSJWgGWF8o4dq3QdtDWdVgTnOXFsB-kh08uYVx9B5iqrroROc-mbc3IyOotObtpTM9Uod5f4_DZ3yzhSXw/w469-h411/LisaScholarship.jpg" width="469" /></a></p><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>Silent Calhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16592908760103622995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-603097880624761368.post-21678327689114737092023-01-09T08:21:00.003-08:002023-01-17T08:55:02.738-08:00My Earl List.<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Yesterday we were on our daily afternoon walk. It was Sunday.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">I was in front of Crash and Linda by about 15 feet, as usual.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">A young girl, perhaps in her thirties, was taking down her outdoor Christmas decorations. She lived in the condos at the entrance to our addition. We walk this route three or four times a week.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">I stopped, remarked to her that we enjoyed her decorations and that she had done a great job. Her display was a delight to see and we always looked forward to it.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">At first, I got the usual reaction when I go up to complete strangers, especially women, and start a random conversation. She shied away at first.....then......she got the biggest smile as both Linda and I talked to her. We made a friend.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>This brings me back to my "Earl List". </span><span>I'm not going into detail about it. I make a list every day of things I want to do. Being nice to someone, every day, is important to me. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">I told Linda that most people cannot recall any memory of trips to Disney, amusement parks, sporting events in days past. I am fairly certain this girl will remember us, every time she puts up her Christmas decorations.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Her smile will certainly remain in my memory bank.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdPhBzwesgA3UgzzLQu3Jr0mGlAd7neOZkjudKMwifQmYOxCt0KA5oKH4NUljxY2n8TrQrVKqctWiDu1EjHJpUtmb1S_fN0sSwwFghZZbJ8ZzXWOGQ5wCPMOEgWBB7Jmt_Ttb5VmXNqSmGcBgivpQLzTEdlq5eu22-rdpDvZWmikKYcNEcvnaW1A/s800/LisaXmasOrnament.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="600" height="436" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdPhBzwesgA3UgzzLQu3Jr0mGlAd7neOZkjudKMwifQmYOxCt0KA5oKH4NUljxY2n8TrQrVKqctWiDu1EjHJpUtmb1S_fN0sSwwFghZZbJ8ZzXWOGQ5wCPMOEgWBB7Jmt_Ttb5VmXNqSmGcBgivpQLzTEdlq5eu22-rdpDvZWmikKYcNEcvnaW1A/w327-h436/LisaXmasOrnament.jpg" width="327" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>Silent Calhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16592908760103622995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-603097880624761368.post-62693414678024256972023-01-04T17:47:00.001-08:002024-01-04T18:37:51.360-08:00Tampa Florida has a beautiful smell.<div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xdj266r x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;">I first experienced Tampa, Florida in 1969. I was in the Navy and sent to Tampa to catch a destroyer going out on maneuvers in the Gulf of Mexico. I arrived early....rented a motel room on Bayshore Blvd in Tampa, about two blocks from the famous Henry Plant Hotel/Museum. I spent two days walking the city before reporting for duty. I had never been to Florida and was eager to drink in as much of it as I could.</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;">Thirteen years later, 1982, Linda, Lisa and I packed up and moved from Indiana to the Tampa Bay Area. I bought a small trucking company and usually delivered to Tampa a couple times a week.</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;">There is no city, that I have experienced, that has the smells of Tampa. The smell of Cuban coffee on Adamo Drive going into Tampa in the morning. The smell of the Florida State Fair...pronto pups and cotton candy. Cuban bread baking at the bakeries in Ybor City or Holsum Bakery on Hillsborough Avenue. Orange blossoms driving down Armenia Avenue when there were groves on both sides of the road or smudge pots burning in the groves when a freeze was coming. Cigar tobacco around Yrbor City. Rounding the corner from the Columbia Restaurant and catching the noon lunch smells. I also can't forget the pungent smell of Tampa Bay's floor as the Tide moved out along Bayshore Blvd.</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;">Smells can be a powerful motivator to pull memories out of your memory bank.</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtWNs6OUcYemZ7DIqfg3N6JJ3Xf1ywPgWrNkaAZD1kXolSQVSSZYv4gkLIkHQpA7XgKsc-5gmADSpdNAxHhb7GGS946-PjMG0xp1amYjYgKdbYJr8nszATcKklQpEmyjz0o2-Hm0ric-Tkx4jAmkb7r6T9RAJMybGfgOXr_QyaIlyMHns5Sgdblg/s275/323356008_870482030867423_2113907742985877384_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtWNs6OUcYemZ7DIqfg3N6JJ3Xf1ywPgWrNkaAZD1kXolSQVSSZYv4gkLIkHQpA7XgKsc-5gmADSpdNAxHhb7GGS946-PjMG0xp1amYjYgKdbYJr8nszATcKklQpEmyjz0o2-Hm0ric-Tkx4jAmkb7r6T9RAJMybGfgOXr_QyaIlyMHns5Sgdblg/w442-h294/323356008_870482030867423_2113907742985877384_n.jpg" width="442" /></a></div></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpPAGYyulnAV_gQljrNL4mp8tlSqzBZnCXlmPhOx_tK57PdEEdOTkcq9qLiGWwa4XSD4NXroYv-Nl6CeM8mkbX-VaQt3AzX3fQGGk9SWhB8GQYyQ9p41akCmxPamgqbYFVLMp2uO2sSyXDaMWZluctP6w26ulxGhY8rAkBqkLIec6FHXn9Z6MrSA/s1440/Florida-Tampa-Henry-B-Plant-Museum-1440x961.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="961" data-original-width="1440" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpPAGYyulnAV_gQljrNL4mp8tlSqzBZnCXlmPhOx_tK57PdEEdOTkcq9qLiGWwa4XSD4NXroYv-Nl6CeM8mkbX-VaQt3AzX3fQGGk9SWhB8GQYyQ9p41akCmxPamgqbYFVLMp2uO2sSyXDaMWZluctP6w26ulxGhY8rAkBqkLIec6FHXn9Z6MrSA/w449-h300/Florida-Tampa-Henry-B-Plant-Museum-1440x961.jpg" width="449" /></a></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"></div></div>Silent Calhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16592908760103622995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-603097880624761368.post-47504367605000590662022-12-02T07:50:00.007-08:002023-01-17T18:13:36.339-08:00Electric Works<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #ffa400; font-size: xx-large; white-space: pre-wrap;">Electric Works</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span face="system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; white-space: pre-wrap;">Last week, Linda and I visited the new "Electric Works" project, near my old neighborhood in Ft Wayne, Indiana. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span face="system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; white-space: pre-wrap;">We ate at Mad Anthony's Brewery...and got a window seat, overlooking the corner of Broadway and Taylor streets. My family had moved near that corner about 1957. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span face="system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; white-space: pre-wrap;">My brother was in 1st grade, I was in 4th. Mom and Dad only had one car so Chuck and I walked the 14 blocks to Miner school, every day.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span face="system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sitting in that window brought back a lot of memories. That window was half way to </span><span face="system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a style="color: #385898; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit;" tabindex="-1"></a></span><span face="system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; white-space: pre-wrap;">school for Chuck and I....and a refuge from the winter weather for a few minutes. <br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1qnSauBQovLrDWSaqqZKj3kEY_Y-CUddpJlg6Cl7fCZrPJbEgx2tPJjdkcB0fHDiPfEC3IhaTDE2qCCkY5kQOxUVzRhfR1KzRMVzlop8OsMe6PoXE0L0S20jtROuK3S8RBFf_KwCe8DxxUg8qeM-lXWdFTnX4DaHO3EQudF0FBvAs7oUujgAqag/s1228/BroadwayTaylorFW2.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="590" data-original-width="1228" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1qnSauBQovLrDWSaqqZKj3kEY_Y-CUddpJlg6Cl7fCZrPJbEgx2tPJjdkcB0fHDiPfEC3IhaTDE2qCCkY5kQOxUVzRhfR1KzRMVzlop8OsMe6PoXE0L0S20jtROuK3S8RBFf_KwCe8DxxUg8qeM-lXWdFTnX4DaHO3EQudF0FBvAs7oUujgAqag/w470-h226/BroadwayTaylorFW2.jpeg" width="470" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9aouRPS9zBiOgA2FSV62huRtELnCChMluiaumEskaIL0V2dkL7nBsTXqQe9CUbnCq2hh5aRJh8MRnGmoOSSi1JALaZtAgYDlyovibJo-ZIwHC31ztwb8Y6YTaWLIPUGB4TkzyhI4U5-BD1i2q6NauvyqZkMUnUA6BRnxSo3SKrURRn5vJKyLbiA/s972/Broadway:TaylorFW.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="880" data-original-width="972" height="380" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9aouRPS9zBiOgA2FSV62huRtELnCChMluiaumEskaIL0V2dkL7nBsTXqQe9CUbnCq2hh5aRJh8MRnGmoOSSi1JALaZtAgYDlyovibJo-ZIwHC31ztwb8Y6YTaWLIPUGB4TkzyhI4U5-BD1i2q6NauvyqZkMUnUA6BRnxSo3SKrURRn5vJKyLbiA/w419-h380/Broadway:TaylorFW.jpeg" width="419" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6bJWkcO576YkuCLAD-A2eD5m6qIQTsNH9BaE6ZMfhm7P9S4-yYQ187JEVyNK-EaSWV1VSTpX0DdSELASJcgSauku0qN4WsRHIUvXJnlMo-189FTKFLYjukxt1DzxCJNSCdIebg_X8tY_GTpmxCythCsBg0_z5VkfhPgV6jJrJvxdyJPSuiB_5lw/s1228/BroadwayTaylorFW3.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="932" data-original-width="1228" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6bJWkcO576YkuCLAD-A2eD5m6qIQTsNH9BaE6ZMfhm7P9S4-yYQ187JEVyNK-EaSWV1VSTpX0DdSELASJcgSauku0qN4WsRHIUvXJnlMo-189FTKFLYjukxt1DzxCJNSCdIebg_X8tY_GTpmxCythCsBg0_z5VkfhPgV6jJrJvxdyJPSuiB_5lw/w411-h312/BroadwayTaylorFW3.jpeg" width="411" /></a></div><br /></div><br /></span><p></p>Silent Calhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16592908760103622995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-603097880624761368.post-53499578189655830732022-10-09T07:12:00.005-07:002023-01-01T07:57:15.160-08:00Life doesn't prepare you.<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQPE7wwH5Yg6mWq-E7LdNcDRN38fe2Z4lSsSFxawNuxlPLYxingMoaqxyvc8oe3XchWPU-qlj10-N1P8DebD_oCLIsIDUeUg55WGXIyFYsarmwKO6bD588iysvGialZ-Qfa7d1jJgKTQ/s766/LosingAChildStatue1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="613" data-original-width="766" height="324" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQPE7wwH5Yg6mWq-E7LdNcDRN38fe2Z4lSsSFxawNuxlPLYxingMoaqxyvc8oe3XchWPU-qlj10-N1P8DebD_oCLIsIDUeUg55WGXIyFYsarmwKO6bD588iysvGialZ-Qfa7d1jJgKTQ/w405-h324/LosingAChildStatue1.jpg" width="405" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span>Almost twenty three years ago I </span><span>found my daughter, my only child......dead in her apartment. She was 26 years old.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">The coroner said she died of a aortic dissection the day before, about 14 hours before I found her.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Her little Shitzu/Poodle, Meeka lay by her side all night.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>Linda and I made numerous calls the night she died. I even drove to her condo and tried to find out why she wasn't answering our calls. Her lights were on, music was playing...I assumed she was taking a shower or had fallen asleep. She was working two jobs and rose each morning at </span><span>5am to work out at Bally's Health Club</span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">After I called her office at Raymond James in the morning, and they said she never came to work. I panicked.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Life does not prepare you for this.</span></div><p></p>Silent Calhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16592908760103622995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-603097880624761368.post-13368553878019263792021-11-27T19:40:00.001-08:002023-01-17T18:13:56.104-08:00A Joyous Sound<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white;"> <b><span style="color: #e06666; font-size: x-large;">A Joyous Sound</span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(7, 55, 99);"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">I can't say my father did not like music. It's just that I never saw him listen to music. Ever. </span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(7, 55, 99);"><b>My mother, on the other hand, loved music. She was an </b></span><span style="caret-color: rgb(7, 55, 99);"><b>amateur guitar and accordion player and like me, only played for her personal enjoyment.</b></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(7, 55, 99);"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">We never had a record player growing up. Mom listened to AM radio, mostly WOWO and they had a limited selection of music. She favored country and old time gospel music and listened to it mostly in the car. </span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b style="caret-color: rgb(7, 55, 99);"><span style="font-size: medium;">All that changed late in 1962.</span></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b style="caret-color: rgb(7, 55, 99);"><span style="font-size: medium;">My sister Dee was born in Sept, 1962. I was 14 and my brother Chuck was 10. Two much older brothers that loved the new baby dearly.</span></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b style="caret-color: rgb(7, 55, 99);"><span style="font-size: medium;">Dee started out a normal baby. When she was about two months or so old, she started crying.....all day and most of the night. The family doctor said she had colic and treated her for it. </span></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b style="caret-color: rgb(7, 55, 99);"><span style="font-size: medium;">She still would not stop crying.</span></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b style="caret-color: rgb(7, 55, 99);"><span style="font-size: medium;">Mom was exhausted, staying up most of the night rocking and cuddling her. Mom, Chuck and I decided to assign shifts to care for Dee. Mom took the shift during the day when we were in school, Chuck and I took turns rocking her at night. Dad, as always was working two jobs and could not help. Chuck and I did a fair share of the cooking during this time.</span></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(7, 55, 99);"><b>My father made a miraculous decision that Christmas. He bought Mom a RCA stereo console and an aqua blue velvet rocker. Mom could now sit in the rocker, rock my sister, and listen to her music. And amazingly, Dee could feel the sound of the music close by and it seemed to sooth her.</b></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(7, 55, 99);"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">The doctor finally diagnosed Dee's problem as an ear infection. Today this is a minor malady. It caused Dee to lose about 80% of her hearing in 1962.</span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(7, 55, 99);"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">That RCA console always occupied a special place in my parent's home. Mom spent many an evening rocking next to it, listening to Johnny Cash, Fats Domino, Dean Martin, etc. It was an old friend.</span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(7, 55, 99);"><b></b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA0eQSWAYI3w5GvUzGO0NQ6F_JUX_ZJibeS9YIZ8n3FaCXleMWDpaK8u531wgx-TcYjRWvhkhpMCM_h7qhLDaRv3yUMy1QPFc4_98m3OtH8kSznHcpnFID7M9vMIqHp9TA5ZpEXu1aiQ/s800/iu.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="381" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA0eQSWAYI3w5GvUzGO0NQ6F_JUX_ZJibeS9YIZ8n3FaCXleMWDpaK8u531wgx-TcYjRWvhkhpMCM_h7qhLDaRv3yUMy1QPFc4_98m3OtH8kSznHcpnFID7M9vMIqHp9TA5ZpEXu1aiQ/w458-h381/iu.jpeg" width="458" /></a></b></div><b><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(7, 55, 99);"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(7, 55, 99);"><b><br /></b></span></span></p>Silent Calhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16592908760103622995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-603097880624761368.post-56438874886035557652021-11-27T08:29:00.008-08:002023-01-17T18:14:13.281-08:00Violet Elaine Boice<blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;"></p></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><h1 style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">Violet Elaine Boice</span></b></h1></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div style="text-align: left;"><b style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;"></b></div><p></p></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><p></p></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b></b></span></span></p></blockquote></blockquote><h2><span style="font-family: georgia; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div style="text-align: center;">I have always believed I inherited my mother's love of music and her fear of the poverty she knew as a child.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;">Mom was the daughter of a tenant farmer, she was born during the depression. She grew up poor in rural Indiana. There is no denying it.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Her father's first wife died of kidney failure at the age of 20 in 1925. John was 25, Myrtle 16 when they married. John was left with a 4 year old boy and a 1 year old girl to raise.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">John married Laura Linton in 1928. John was 33 and Laura 26. John had raised his two children for 3 years with the help of Myrtle's parents. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">John and Laura had four girls, my mother was the oldest. Life was tough. There were 9 mouths to feed, including Laura's mother who lived with the family.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Mom's father died in 1947. All four girls were still at home. John was 51 years old. Step siblings George was 26, Evaleen 23. Violet was 18, Ellen 16, Dorothy 10, Joyce 7.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzvnnftXbV0xzGY5cSs0khVsHwPgUMRhMN9BYiaYKKk4IjB5N-AgHSIVZlI6A8bIUCgR9PEp5NfsEvoXOwCwaAsChqjdP0nwjaDEPluKhp_QXL4eHy87JYpf7RLhTtXSKxJB9qDKGTSQ/s828/BoiceHomeE.Geneva.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="444" data-original-width="828" height="344" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzvnnftXbV0xzGY5cSs0khVsHwPgUMRhMN9BYiaYKKk4IjB5N-AgHSIVZlI6A8bIUCgR9PEp5NfsEvoXOwCwaAsChqjdP0nwjaDEPluKhp_QXL4eHy87JYpf7RLhTtXSKxJB9qDKGTSQ/w640-h344/BoiceHomeE.Geneva.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I believe this picture was taken shortly after Mom's father died. The grief at her father's death and the thought of six women surviving on their own had to be devastating. Mary, mother of Laura had moved in with the family when Dorothy was born. About 1936</div><br /></div><br /></span></span></h2><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p></blockquote></blockquote><p></p>Silent Calhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16592908760103622995noreply@blogger.com0Fort Wayne, IN, USA41.079273 -85.139351312.769039163821155 -120.2956013 69.389506836178839 -49.9831013tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-603097880624761368.post-83857037663916900622021-06-27T18:47:00.004-07:002023-01-17T09:04:02.319-08:00A State Of Mind<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: #ffd966;"><b>Leaving Latta Lake</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"><div style="text-align: center;">Well, we departed Latta Lake after living there full time for 9 years and owning rental property for about 20. It was a bittersweet breakup. I am going to miss all my vegetable and flower gardens, my intercourse with all the fishermen, the wildlife and the beauty of a sunrise each morning, over the lake.</div></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">I won't miss the long trips to find a decent restaurant or grocery store. I won't miss drive 35 miles to Mass every Sunday. I won't miss being removed from the creature comforts I yearn for, at 72 years of age. We won't talk about winter and the struggle to get up our steep road when the snow flies.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPqE8rynR2m7CFCkfzIx8WIeEFEH-hl-QMETRW8CuZbuDWw0fJyihaj_vL3_f8yt6mqq8RUmnJ6YSiSZ6ho30lGEvtiHab07WQzYcdlfm-S4O8tAtVmMW_PA-y6osm_L3o_YpSBYaWKQ/s1200/JohnLindaDogsCuyahogaParkCleveland.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="900" height="335" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPqE8rynR2m7CFCkfzIx8WIeEFEH-hl-QMETRW8CuZbuDWw0fJyihaj_vL3_f8yt6mqq8RUmnJ6YSiSZ6ho30lGEvtiHab07WQzYcdlfm-S4O8tAtVmMW_PA-y6osm_L3o_YpSBYaWKQ/w296-h335/JohnLindaDogsCuyahogaParkCleveland.jpg" width="296" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><div style="text-align: center;">The biggest reason we moved will seem trite to some people. Linda and I are walkers. Real walkers. We spend a couple hours each day walking and Latta Lake had nearby trails, that were accessible if you drove. We wanted to walk out the door with our dogs and walk in a safe, comfortable environment. So, we sold the lake house, and had a villa custom built to our life long ambitions......near some great walking trails.</div></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">This is the 5th house we have built, in 49 years of marriage. We don't get attached to houses or cars. This one has all the mowing, snow removal, raking, trimming and outside painting done for us. I now have time to do all those things I dreamed of doing in retirement, but never did in 9 years. I have never had a minute of boredom in retirement. I can't find enough time to accomplish all the things I want to do.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">This is our last move and last house.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div>Silent Calhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16592908760103622995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-603097880624761368.post-25886770525328686842012-04-28T04:33:00.003-07:002023-01-17T18:14:30.705-08:00Latta Lake<span class="Apple-style-span" face="Tahoma, Verdana, Arial, sans-serif"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG9V9efLnbos6rPaaQB50knu12Wh0dWbvu44GcRpNw9MMP3SImoqCHing_3eHf4FGOcEYdyQ-GOHgHh_8DJRX06QVetXRWVbhfnTVWybumt_5lUhGk_3b3EUtCL56yCLgMvLswZ5XRbQ/s1600/LattaPoster.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="415" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG9V9efLnbos6rPaaQB50knu12Wh0dWbvu44GcRpNw9MMP3SImoqCHing_3eHf4FGOcEYdyQ-GOHgHh_8DJRX06QVetXRWVbhfnTVWybumt_5lUhGk_3b3EUtCL56yCLgMvLswZ5XRbQ/w244-h415/LattaPoster.jpg" width="244" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">We live on this lake in northern Indiana. It is not a large lake, about 50 acres or so. Just big enough. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">My family owns most of the lakefront property. It has been handed down from </div><div style="text-align: center;">generation to generation. My wise grandfather bought it about 1954. It is a special place. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">We allow fishermen to launch their boats for a fee of $3.00. It is on the honor system and most are honorable people. I have often thought that honor and fishingwent hand in hand. Other than the occasional fisherman, we seldom see outsiders on our lake, especially in the winter. I like that. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Our lake has a soul. It lives and breathes like any of God's creatures. It even suffers. I think of this lake as a member of the family, a kind, giving uncle if you please. The lake talks to me in the morning as I sit out on the patio drinking my coffee. </div><div style="text-align: center;">
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<div><div style="text-align: center;">Sandhill cranes, splashing bass, honking geese........our lake has many voices. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">When I am hungry, the lake provides me with food. When I am hot and stressed, the</div><div style="text-align: center;">lake caresses my body. When I am tired, the lake lulls me to sleep with it's </div><div style="text-align: center;">gentile symphony of evening sounds. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">My mother often told me that there are three things in life that soothe the soul. Watching a dancing fire on a cold night, watching wild creatures go about their </div><div style="text-align: center;">daily lives........and watching water. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I have the best of all those worlds currently, and I am very grateful for it.</div></div>Silent Calhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16592908760103622995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-603097880624761368.post-60846392665209137412011-11-20T04:45:00.000-08:002022-10-09T07:16:38.073-07:00Civility<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge48-OWwsH4N_h70rvqiRRpBsKh9WOehP07lSn9S_nuHfjoJMdoUwoSxrtgihccyCNeYSsFiwaHSa8d2FCW0t5P7P2SDUi8FwNPGvV0yd0axA2B_2MJXIwQTtcprYc5HPk-3mDy6Lctw/s1600/SunsetOzona.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5677108355270859122" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge48-OWwsH4N_h70rvqiRRpBsKh9WOehP07lSn9S_nuHfjoJMdoUwoSxrtgihccyCNeYSsFiwaHSa8d2FCW0t5P7P2SDUi8FwNPGvV0yd0axA2B_2MJXIwQTtcprYc5HPk-3mDy6Lctw/s320/SunsetOzona.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 240px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 320px;" /></a>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 100%;">We currently live in the most densely populated county in the state of Florida.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 100%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 100%;"> No, it isn't the Miami area, we live in the Tampa Bay metro area.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 100%;">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 100%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 100%;">We have lots of sun, warm weather and beaches. We also have more people per square mile than any other area in Florida.</span><span style="font-family: "lucida grande"; font-size: 100%;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: "lucida grande"; font-size: 100%;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "lucida grande"; font-size: 100%;">It's the people I don't like.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 100%;">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 100%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 100%;">When the human race lives in this sort of chaos, the simple act of civility toward your fellow man seems to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">disappear</span>. We get on each other's nerves. I see road rage on a daily basis, if the clerk at the 7-11 takes too much time checking us out, we get irritated beyond the norm of civil behavior. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 100%;">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 100%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 100%;">Those of us from the New York, New Jersey area are the worst. They have escaped from that hell of extreme population density to Florida. Upmost in their minds is to make Florida just like what they left, and complain about Florida at every chance. They are part of the problem.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 100%;">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 100%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 100%;">Here is the funny part. Those sun lovers who moved here, and spoiled the area, are now moving north. No, not back to New York, but to the Carolinas, Tennessee, etc. The natives of that area call them "Half Backs". They have moved half way back to New York.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 100%;">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 100%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 100%;">At least they left Florida. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 100%;">
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</span></div></div>Silent Calhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16592908760103622995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-603097880624761368.post-83763711281415341392011-09-20T05:18:00.000-07:002023-01-17T09:08:20.028-08:00The Stare.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc8iHFuKodi-8dHjQ3jgLEChyphenhyphenL2aWRh405sFEx5JZFmV-UjtM74YWgcq30vCapyjBIyuF24yc34SWVV35WY7c263rPUpT7A91-Hp3mkDeCoMFc1-iA7A1h8kX0Aw0g5tKZ1P404dUlIA/s1600/LisaTelephone1974.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654418402819220882" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc8iHFuKodi-8dHjQ3jgLEChyphenhyphenL2aWRh405sFEx5JZFmV-UjtM74YWgcq30vCapyjBIyuF24yc34SWVV35WY7c263rPUpT7A91-Hp3mkDeCoMFc1-iA7A1h8kX0Aw0g5tKZ1P404dUlIA/s320/LisaTelephone1974.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 320px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 223px;" /></a>
<div>You know the one I am talking about. When they pull their cell phone out of their pocket and give it the stare.</div><div><br /></div><div>
</div><div>It could also be called a glare, it is intense. They just stared at their phone two minutes ago, but there they go again. What exactly are they waiting for?</div><div><br /></div><div>
</div><div>One would think they were praying to some cellular god that lives inside their phone. "Please god, have someone call or text me". I am so lonely.</div><div><br /></div><div>
</div><div>Cell phones, like computers, have empowered the meekest and weakest of us with a sense of power. Someone has texted me, therefore, I am important. If I were to miss a call......it would be the end of the world, as we know it.</div><div><br /></div><div>
</div><div>I spend a lot of time waiting in airports. I feel like Woody Allen, observing life on this planet. For the most part, everyone in the airport is looking at their cell phone. That L.E.D. light emitting from the phone shines on their face. Perhaps God is really talking to them from his enlightened throne.</div><div><br /></div><div>
</div><div>I am no exception. I do have a rule that I do not take my cell phone into stores when I have business with the owner. I am old fashioned, to answer a phone while in a meeting is rude.</div><div><br /></div><div>
</div><div>We have our house for sale. I interviewed three realtors. One of the realtors had a blue</div><div>tooth stuck in her ear, every time she came to the house. This told me something about</div><div>her priorities. That phone call, that I might get, that might be important, that can't wait..</div><div>.......is more important than you.</div><div><br /></div><div>
</div><div>She didn't get the listing.</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" face="Tahoma, Verdana, Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12px;"><pre style="font-size: 9pt;"></pre></span></div>Silent Calhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16592908760103622995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-603097880624761368.post-81430133142778434432011-08-31T05:27:00.001-07:002023-01-17T18:18:15.862-08:00The Little Things......<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj513juEoLqJ-ZvM76DEykebrKYazrmnKV-OzkSKqnXSrT5VSBecNpK7BFzUnhWDXmEBUZ3m4G0Y6Il-VGJaDuIU9ToeJ0LQziAVtBWSThPNnm1xycx3RwiGaJeUhHOfUIBLgvJWhyWeA/s1600/RoOzonaSunset.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646999946337165122" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj513juEoLqJ-ZvM76DEykebrKYazrmnKV-OzkSKqnXSrT5VSBecNpK7BFzUnhWDXmEBUZ3m4G0Y6Il-VGJaDuIU9ToeJ0LQziAVtBWSThPNnm1xycx3RwiGaJeUhHOfUIBLgvJWhyWeA/s320/RoOzonaSunset.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 214px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 320px;" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">The Little Things</span></span><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: large;">Technically, we don't live in Palm Harbor, but a lot of our neighbors do.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: large;">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: large;">We live in Ozona and gladly pick up our mail each day at the tiny Ozona post office. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: large;">Our next door neighbors, like many others who live on the fringe, walk outside each day and get their mail from a street side mail box. They lead double lives. Their mailing address is Palm Harbor but they proudly profess being Ozona residents. They don't know what they are missing.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: large;">
</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">I have often wondered if this area is some sort of secret witness protection haven. Garmin </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">Tom-Tom, Mapquest, none of them can find Ozona. Handy, I suppose, if you are in hiding.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: large;">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: large;">One rural carrier took care of the whole town of Hoagland, Indiana when we lived there. I remember an incident in 1980, our daughter was about seven. Another child relative had sent her a birthday card from California. It was addressed; Lisa. Hoagland, Indiana.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: large;">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: large;">Lisa got the card. To this day I don't know if Lisa was the only Lisa in town or if Don, the mail carrier, recognized it was a birthday card, and knew it was Lisa's birthday.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: large;">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: large;">This brings me to one of the little things about Ozona that we love, our Post Office.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: large;">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: large;">It is a gathering place. We meet and great. We talk about the weather and who is under the weather. We pocket our cell phones and actually converse, face to face.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: large;">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: large;">The Ozona post masters have been a mixed bag over the thirty years we have lived here, most pleasant and efficient, some not so. For many years, if we got mail without our box number, it was sent back to the sender.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: large;">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: large;">We have a gem currently. Her name is Linda. She has a tattoo on her wrist and a sublime smile. I have the feeling she is grateful for her job. I have never seen her complain.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: large;">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: large;">I recently sent off one of those large manilla envelopes, destined to the IRS. I guessed at the postage and dropped it off on my way to work. Later in the day, I checked my box and found a note; "your package was 12 cents short in postage. I paid the difference, you owe me 12 cents". Linda</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: large;">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: large;">A little thing.</span></div></div></div>Silent Calhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16592908760103622995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-603097880624761368.post-34823411976905468652011-07-13T05:42:00.000-07:002023-04-06T07:14:29.992-07:00Reflections of my great grandmother, Rosina<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">
</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: large;"><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; font: 12.0px Helvetica; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span"> I spent my early years in a small house directly behind “Great Grandma” Neukom’s house on Penn Street </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span">in Decatur, Indiana.</span></span></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; font: 12.0px Helvetica; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span">
</span></span></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; font: 12.0px Helvetica; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span"> I lived there from from the age of 1 to 8 years of age.</span></span></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; font: 12.0px Helvetica; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span">
</span></span></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; font: 12.0px Helvetica; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span"> I remember Grandma Neukom had a huge garden that she seemed to tend daily while wearing either an old fashioned bonnet or straw hat. She was a small feisty old woman to me and didn’t seem to show affection towards many people.</span></span></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; font: 12.0px Helvetica; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; font: 12.0px Helvetica; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span">
</span></span></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; font: 12.0px Helvetica; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYHp5mDQkaLelefYNbK-QiwbC8-uhfhWGFxzm8myD5iVS9OoxRfOUgTzsnXlgTqzbOW36Gano1XSBICxhLsszD4gKuarT7WSLslhMspR32LiY8XxK2cmO7RT4TYU4kkuK87JO66xP3Dg/s1600/Rosina.jpeg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628820417127025410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYHp5mDQkaLelefYNbK-QiwbC8-uhfhWGFxzm8myD5iVS9OoxRfOUgTzsnXlgTqzbOW36Gano1XSBICxhLsszD4gKuarT7WSLslhMspR32LiY8XxK2cmO7RT4TYU4kkuK87JO66xP3Dg/s320/Rosina.jpeg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 320px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 221px;" /></a> My father (Charles) said he had helped build her house when Christian, her husband died. It was a small bungalow-type house with a small basement loaded with canned fruits and vegetables. It was always immaculate and Grandma Neukom was especially proud of her flowers and garden. She allowed me to go down there occasionally. All I remember is jar after jar of sauerkraut.</span></span></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; font: 12.0px Helvetica; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; font: 12.0px Helvetica; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span">
</span></span></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; font: 12.0px Helvetica; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span"> It always seemed to me that she was mean-spirited towards my grandmother (her daughter, Edna). As a yound boy I didn’t realize she did this to perhaps make her blind daughter stronger and more self-reliant. I remember very vividly the wire strung between her house and Edna’s so that her blind daughter might travel the distance between houses more easily, and her yelling at </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span">her daughter if she stumbled or got off path.</span></span></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; font: 12.0px Helvetica; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; font: 12.0px Helvetica; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span">
</span></span></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; font: 12.0px Helvetica; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span"> Grandma Neukom spoke in a heavily accented German voice. She died on the 9th of June 1973 (the day my brother, Chuck, got married) after living her final years in the care of her daughter, Edna........the independent, blind one. </span></span></p></span></div>Silent Calhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16592908760103622995noreply@blogger.com0