Harold Lee and Annie Laura on the Trent River

I like these pictures of Mom and Dad enjoying time together on the Trent River. These were taken before they were married and before Daddy went into the Army. You can tell Dad has not been in the Army yet, because he is still skinny in this picture. He hasn't gotten any of that good and plentiful Army food that finally filled him out. Mom is holding the makeshift paddle and Dad appears to be enjoying the ride. Somebody told me that they had never seen any two people any lazier than Harold Lee and Mom's brother, Archie. I was shocked by the statement, because I had never heard the word lazy used in reference to my Dad. I questioned this person to see if she had really meant to say, "lazy". "Are you sure that you mean lazy? I can't imagine my daddy as ever having been lazy. Is it maybe that he didn't want to do what other people wanted him to do because he was so BUSY doing what he did want to do?" She agreed that was a better way to describe it. My Dad and my Mom are busy, they always have been. Tonight mom was snapping greenbeans for canning and Daddy was probably getting ready to feed ten deerhounds, a beagle and a labrador retriever. Earlier that day he had fed three dogs for Gary and had mowed Gary's yard. The church yard was mowed, so he must have done that, too. There were 4 or 5 wooden redfoxes in the yard that he had cut out and painted and they were being chased by a pack of hounds, but the two or three black bear cutouts were not being bothered by the hounds, they were just stepping out of the cornfield. I've never seen my parents being lazy. No, not my Mom and Dad.

Harold Lee and Robbie

Daddy looks all filled out and healthy here with my cousin Robbie. He must be home from the army? Aunt Noni, help me out here. All you have to do to leave a comment, I think, is to sign up with blogspot and then click on comment under this post. Otherwise, email me.

He says he never got enough to eat when he was at home. He thinks he was always hungry at home. That is hard for me to comprehend. We've had nothing but an abundance of good food as long as I've been alive. Daddy says that my Mom's family had more food and better food than his family did. Mom says they never went hungry, but she knows her Daddy did. Mom says they might not have always had a variety of things to eat at a meal, but there was enough of whatever they had, even if it was just a big pot of potatoes.

We always had a big garden when I was growing up. Mama canned and froze and pickled so that we had more than enough food. We had a cow, Louise, and she gave lots of milk. We had homemade butter! With this abundance I could even be a picky eater. That's a luxury, to be a picky eater! Can you imagine a hungry person being picky about what was offered? I liked chicken, chocolate milk, corn, sandwiches, steak, ham, boiled potatoes. I didn't like pickles, pickled beets, butter bean, green beans, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, okra, tomatoes, onions, collards, cabbage and so many other things. I enjoy eating all of these things now. I think that if I had ever been allowed to get hungry I would have learned to like all food.

I went to a Karate tournament with a neighbor when I was about 16. I had money to buy something to eat. I somehow got really hungry and ordered a hamburger. They put lettuce and tomato on it and that was awful, but I was so hungry I didn't even bother to take them off. I just bit into it and it was so good. I couldn't believe that something I hated so badly could taste so good. My thinking slowly changed after that and I began to try new things.

I've grown to appreciate my parents hard work to make sure we never went hungry. The abundance we have enjoyed was provided because of hard work and careful planning. My family was frugal and never wasteful. Mom managed the family's money carefully. There was never enough money to spend freely. I talk about the need for a budget to keep from spending too much in one category or another. I have categories like "entertainment" and "spending money" and "vacation" in my budget. My parents didn't have that option.

But you know what? My parents were careful and diligent and frugal because they had to be. Later in life when they didn't have to be so careful, they still lived the same way, it was a habit, no it had become their character. They have freezers full of fresh vegetables and pantries loaded with canned goods and they can feed an army at a moments notice. They have a nice home and they create an environment that keeps us coming home. They have all they need and more. The excess spills over and touches so many people.

But I'm only talking about material things. They have so much more to offer. Do you know what it is? Give them a chance and they'll give it to you, too.

tailgate

Once when Daniel was a little fella' we were driving up the lane toward the highway from the Big House. There was a box turtle on the road and of course we stopped to pick him up. I sent Daniel out to grab him. That was no problem for Daniel, he had experience with turtles and all kinds of animals. He picked up the turtle and came to the truck door and would have gotten in the truck holding the turtle except that I said, "Put him in the back of the truck and shut the tailgate". My experience had taught me that when you pick up a turtle it is best not to have him in the floor of the vehicle crawling around. If he gets under the accelerator it's hard to go and if he gets under the brake it's hard to stop and if he gets under the seat he's hard to retrieve.

"Put him in the back and shut the tailgate". Daniel just stood there holding the turtle. Daniel even at 4 was a man of action. For him to just stand there with a blank look on his face, that was perplexing to me. He was always good at following directions especially if he heard them twice.

"Daniel! Put the turtle in the back of the truck and close the tailgate so he won't get out!" Daniel looked at me, then at the turtle. He turned the turtle over. Have you ever played with a box turtle? If you have you know that they have a hinged shell that allows them to shut themselves up completely so that no flesh is exposed.

Daniel turned the turtle over and with his finger he punched the flesh beside the turtles tail causing him to pull himself in and shut the rear part of his shell for protection. Another little punch with Daniel's finger and the "tailgate" was closed. He put the turtle into the bed of the truck and started to get back in the truck.

Stella, you were there. You are my witness. Am I telling it right?

I nearly cried, it was so funny. I didn't want to offend Daniel, so I restrained myself, only smiling with tears in my eyes. I love him so much. He is so perfect. He is strong willed and active, but still sensitive. He likes to be right. I have to be careful not to embarrass him. I hold back with all my might. "Daniel, the door on the back of the truck, the gate-thing that we close back there to keep things from rolling out, we call that the tailgate. Go back around to the back of the truck and shut it for Daddy. That'll keep the turtle from getting out if he decides to start walking around back there."

Later that day I told the story and laughed and I told it in Daniel's presence. I wanted him to see the funniness in the misunderstanding. I wanted him to laugh with us. He did NOT think it was funny. Over the years I told of the incident occasionally and often Daniel was there to hear it. Each time he heard the story he always found it to be very NOT funny. "Oh no, not that, not again".

One day, many years later when Daniel was nearly a teenager, I found myself needing to tell it just one more time. (Every time I tell it, my heart is so full it could almost burst with my love and admiration for my son, Daniel. I almost choke when I tell it. My heart feels like it will burst. It was just one of those things that happens in a family, one of those things that'll never go away. It is a moment frozen in time and it will last forever. It has to be told. Daniel was so smart and he understood everything that he should at his age and so much more. His granddaddy had said when Daniel was two years old, "I don't know what I'm going to do, I've taught him almost everything I know!" Well almost everything.... Granddaddy rarely had a tailgate on HIS truck and THAT was one detail he had not had the opportunity or need to explain for Daniel. )

In that moment with the turtle in hand, it was so important to Daniel that he should understand his dad's request. He had heard it, he had pondered it, he had decoded it and he had taken the appropriate action.

Perfect. A perfect moment. The whole world pivoted on that one little poke of a turtle's tender flesh.

Daniel laughed.

Ancient cypress

This is one of the very old cypress trees that stands in an area within the Black River, a tributary of the Cape Fear River. These ancient trees remain uncut, partly because of their inaccessability and some were undesireable for lumber because they are hollow. Because they were spared, they stand as the oldest trees east of the Rocky Mountains. They are surpassed solely by the bristlecone pines near Death Valley, California.










Dendrochronologists doing a climate study in 1996 took a core from one tree and counted the rings. It was over 1700 years old! The core was taken at 15 feet above the ground so the tree would be older than 1700 years. There are many trees that are larger than the one that they cored but because they are hollow the rings cannot be counted. Some of the trees here are expected to be over 2000 years old. I saw this grove of trees this summer (2007) when the water was low. Here is a picture taken looking up at the top of one of the larger ones. Now that I have a Kayak I want to go back soon.

Nine moccasins

We used to have 'frog fries' out in the yard when I was growing up. A big black pot would be hung on a tripod over a woodfire until the lard was sizzling hot. Breaded bullfrog legs were lowered into the hot grease and the frying was on. Smelled great!

Before a 'frog fry' it was necessary to go bull-froggin'. We would take a small boat out into the pond and shine a flashlight or spotlight along the bank and look for the glowing eyes of large bull frogs. The frogs would often be heard sounding their characteristic low song, "Oh- -woe-woe-want". We'd paddle close until they were in reach and then use the three pronged bullfrog gig to spear the prey. Sometimes the frog would scream a loud "aaaaaeeeeeee!" when the gig hit him.

When a sufficient number of the unfortunate bullfrogs were collected in the burlap sack it was time to return home to prepare them. If the frog was still kicking I remember someone striking them on the head with the knife handle and again it might cry "aaaaaaaeeeeee!". The legs had to be cut off and this was more easily done to a stunned frog. I think that we preferred ours frog legs fried with the skin off. I don't remember any of the frogs' spots showing through the fried batter like it does at some local restaurants where the skin is left on.

This picture was taken when my brother, Gary, was quite young, maybe four years old. I would have been a newborn if I'd been born at all. This photo is the most worn and damaged photo among the hundreds of photos that mom recently went through and organized. This photo was probably shown more times than any other of our photos. I bet Gary took it to school many times to impress his friends, too. These are the nine moccasins that were killed during a frog hunt that Gary participated in. That's our dad at the other end of the stick. He's doing all the work. Gary only THINKS he is helping Dad hold the stick up.

All these snakes remind me of the night that we had fried rattlesnake for supper. Dad had killed a big rattler and he'd cleaned it and cut it up so that it looked more like a bowl of chicken backs than anything else I can think of. Mom didn't want to cook it. She had always been afraid of snakes and had nightmares about them frequently. She didn't want anything to do with them. Dad insisted and she gave in to his wish. I remember her crying over the stove as the snake fried. Me and mom didn't eat any of it. I'm sure Gary and Dad feasted heartily. I did eat rattlesnake, turtle, bear, deer and alot of other things later in life, but that night seeing mom's distress, I couldn't bear the thought of it.

Phenomenal nature spectacle begins, Neil secures parking spot

Some local guys were drinking beer and fishing on posted property on a point of land on the north side of the Neuse River. When I approached them one of them lamented, "I know! This property is posted" He was sure that I was there to tell them they would have to move on. I said, "No, I'm looking for a place to park so I can put my kayak in sometime next month." One of them asked, "Are you a southerner?"

Even though I proudly passed the 'southern' hurdle, these guys didn't have the authority to grant me the permission that I sought. Like themselves I had a good reason to be there, but I'd have to look elsewhere for the parking pass.

The purple martins having raised their young are beginning to congregate in increasing numbers underneath the Neuse River bridge near Bridgeton across the river from New Bern as they have been doing for many years. The martins will gather nightly at this spot from late July until around the middle of August. Each morning they'll take flight with their young and return to the neighborhoods where they have fledged this year's brood. They'll consume quantities of insects during the day and then near days end they'll fly again toward New Bern where they will spend the night in this huge communal roost. Some have speculated that all the birds from a hundred mile radius will commune at a roost like this. The numbers are staggering when they come swirling in like clouds just before dark. I haven't yet witnessed the spectacle of their departure, but I have heard that one morning around the middle of August they all take flight together and head toward their winter feeding grounds in South America. Some evening this August I plan to paddle my kayak near the bridge to observe the martins as they come streaming in. I'd like to get some flash photos of the birds huddled shoulder to shoulder underneath the bridge on the steel I-beams that serve to support the bridge surface.

Tonight we drove to a neighborhood as close to the bridge as we could get and I made arrangements with a homeowner who will allow me to park in her driveway and put my kayak in from her dock. I was lucky to find Ms. Mary Walker checking her mailbox this evening. Having a sure parking spot will help to make this outing come off without a hitch. Ms. Walker was aware of the congregation of martins each year and she said that the roosting has already begun.

On the way back home we stopped at the foot of the bridge to watch the martins coming in for just a few minutes . Luke was impatient and didn't let us stay too long. I'll be back. You are invited.

Of course I remember you!

Here is a letter from someone who knew my mom and dad when they were growing up. Hope the print is big enough for you to read it.

Millpond and Kayak

I've wanted a kayak ever since I heard the work 'kayak'. I probably didn't hear the word until high school or the first year in college, but even so, that's a long time to want something. Not that I've been deprived or that I've felt deprived. I've always had access to the water. I've been canoeing a long time and I practically grew up on the water. Dad got a boat about the time I was 12 and we had summers with camping and fishing and skiing and boating. Later Dad and Mom had a place on the Bay River where they set nets, worked crabpots, even tried shrimping. That lasted nearly twenty years it seems.

But the kayak. The smallness of it. The simplicity. The ease of transport. The solitude. Those things appealed to me. l

The 23rd of June, 2007 I bought two of them. I found them at Sam's club. They appeared good enough. The price was right. Now I can carry one on my head or drag it to the millpond anytime I want. I don't have to plan ahead. I don't need any help. It's easy. I just decide and go.

I've been out on the kayak many times this past few weeks. Stella and I have been out. Daniel and I have gone out. Michael and I have paddled. I've been with Keith. He liked it enough that he bought his own. I've been out alone alot too. I always take my camera. I'm trying to get a picture of the geese coming in after sundown. I haven't gotten the perfect picture yet. I have gotten a few pictures of other things.

The other night I was waiting for another flock of geese to come gliding in. I noticed this storm of little fly-bugs swirling around my head. I shot a few pictures and when I zoomed in on these miniscule winged things, I was surprised to see that they were actually tiny people, with wings. Look at the pictures here and see for yourself. I saw them again last night.

In the daytime there were leaves floating on the pond. I saw this one with red on it. It may be a Virginia Creeper leaflet. That's what it looks like. They often turn red by late summer.

I can comfortably reach some places with the kayak that I might not have seen otherwise. With the paddles out to the sides it is harder than the canoe to maneuver in tight places, but once you get into a tight spot it is easier to turn around with the kayak because of it's shorter length. There are pros and cons with everything.

I am glad I bought them. I can do fun things alone and I can do fun things with people I love. Wonder if Mom and Dad want to give it a try?

The millpond is around 300 years old. When it was empty after the dam broke, I went to count the rings on a submerged cypress log. I estimated that it was over 900 years old when it was cut. They can live to be over 2000 years old I've since discovered. The old ones on the Black River near Wilmington have been proven to be in that age range. I saw them by canoe with my friend, Ron. It was an otherworldly place. I want to go back there and show them to You. If you don't get to see them in person, at least see my pictures at www.flickr.com/photos/crowdive in a set called 'black river'.

Here also is a picture of my dad and friends standing atop the dam at our millpond back in the late 40's or early 50's.

Unfortunate accident

We went North. All of us. Not all of us. So many of us that it seemed like all of us. We are the blended family. The combined family. Yours, mine and ours. Eight is enough. Cheaper by the dozen. We are practically newlyweds and the baby is two weeks old. It is right and good that we should go north to visit her side of the family. It would be great to make this a family vacation. Money is in short supply. Gas costs almost as much as milk. Five teenagers, a new baby, and Wendy and I.

I like pulling the camper, the mother ship. It is long and shiney with rounded ends. A huge family vacation. My agenda: see moose, hear french.

We go to Gettysburg. I want Stella and Daniel to get a chance to experience the battleground. This time we get a dry old man guide to drive our car around and tell us about things. He only talks about the terrain, the lay of the land, the hills, the valleys. He was boring. Last year we got a passionate, war-between-the-states, woman book writer and she brought Pickett's charge to life. This year was not as good. No one was impressed. How can you take a guided tour at Gettysburg and not be impressed? It happened to us. Next time will be better.

Next stop is at Springboro, PA to visit brother Matt, Grandma Ginger and Grandpa Dan. We had two or three days there and had a great time. Matt played the accordian and Luke was introduced to the music of his gypsy ancestors, no, not really, but maybe Croatian polka music? I'm not sure. All we know is that Matt can play alot of instruments and he can write music and he jokes around alot. We only stayed two or three days, because there was so much that I wanted to do with this trip North.

Stella has always wanted to see Niagara Falls. I have decided to take her there. The Falls are big and wet. The colored lights are tacky. The power company has diverted 75 percent of the water to generate power. You don't miss all that water. It looks like it is all there. Stella was sad that day. I didn't know how to make things better. She just got better later. We saw Niagara Falls. Our hair stood up. All but Michael's.

We continued on around the Canadian side of Lake Ontario. We drove all the way around and then re-entered Vermont. We were looking for moose in earnest now. I had read that June was the best time to see moose, because they liked to come out in the evening and lick the salt off the roads.

We began to see lots of signs about moose. Moose next 15 miles. We kept our eyes on alert. Everyone helped. Somewhere along the way we saw moose trails and tracks. I was excited. They looked fresh. "If we never see a moose, at least we've seen fresh tracks". Later I said, "If we never see a moose, at least we've seen fresh moose droppings" This became, "If we don't see a moose at least we have a skull and some leg bones from a moose that died last year".

Then in New Hampshire it happened, someone yelled "MOOSE!" And there the little moose was. Standing in the tall grass. We looked at him and he at us. I took pictures of him standing. I took pictures of him staring. I got some pictures of him leaving. Mission accomplished. We saw a MOOSE!

On to Quebec. With moose bones. Illegal to take moose products into French Canada? We didn't know. It was hard at the border crossing. There were step children and stepchildren and natural children with different parents some of whom were in Iraq. There were questions and explanations. Was Wendy escaping to Canada with her X husband's children? Maybe she was! We had to allow an inspection of the camper. The moose bones were wrapped in plastic and then a towel and then more plastic and then a dark, black, large garbage bag. The kind of bag that human remains are sometimes hidden in. Drugs are hidden this way too. I had to open little doors that were locked on the outside of the trailer. I had to worry that our bones would be found, that we would be detained, denied entry, imprisoned, fined. What if they confiscated our moose skeleton? The border guard had a french accent. He had to know our occupations. I told him I was a speech therapist, nodding to emphasize my veracity. He told us to continue. I could not believe my ears. Anyone could tell we were hiding something. Something was definitely wrong here. Still we were released.

On to Quebec City. In the french speaking province the trailer had brake trouble and we had to stop in a small village and ask for repairs. The repairman was away but his girls said he would return soon. It was already after hours and with our prejudiced conceptions of the French, it was certain that we were going to be turned away. All of my French language skills had been swallowed by my more recent exposure to spanish and I couldn't pull out any more than, "Merci" and "s'il vous plais".

The owner returned and he went right to work diagnosing the problem. He drove the trailer around the village. He crawled under the trailer. I went under with him to encourage him and to show my interest and appreciation for what he was doing. He found a broken wire and and he fixed it. I had the audacity to doubt that he had found the problem. I managed to tell him that I didn't think that could be the solution. He challenged me to drive it around, so I did. He rode with me and he raised his eyebrows asking me in french "is it not fixed?" It was. Now the moment of truth. What does a frenchman charge and ugly american who has shown up after hours on his extravagant family vacation to a foreign land with 5 teenagers, wife and baby? What does a frenchman charge for his services when his ugly american afterhours patron has doubted his ability to repair the brakes?

"How much does this cost?"

He shrugged and smiled, "Ten dollars"

I look at him and nearly gasped. I don't know enough french to tell him he should charge more. He must see I am disappointed. I am, And it shows. I am disappointed that I can't adequately express my thanks.

Something happened to the French in the New World. These adventurous french, who left their country and crossed the sea. The french who came to the frontier to befriend the indians, the french who trapped and traded and canoed and settled in this land, something had happened. Something had changed them and made them new and different. Or maybe they they were isolated from the mother country and never evolved into the proud and arrogant people that we all know they.....woops.

He was a nice french canadian. That is enough. My stereotypic ideas about the french had to be modified.

On to Quebec City. We ate expensive food at a sidewalk cafe with an automated rain canopy in the most european city in North America. Lemonade was four dollars and fifty cents. There were street performers with music and antics. We had bread and butter. There were shops decorated with windowboxes. It rained. We camped near the big bridge.

On to Maine. At the border a nice Maine lady smiled and welcomed us back to America. We told her we had seen lots of moose related things and even a little moose in NH the week before. She frowned and said that unfortunately a moose had been killed on the road just 10 miles further. "Be careful, I think they just pulled it to the side of the road".

"You think there is a dead moose on this road? The road we are on? Hey guys, we might see a dead moose!" A freshly killed dead moose!. I was already thinking of how I might saw off the antlers or a hoof, or clip off the tail or an ear. I know this sounds sick and morbid. I can't explain it. I have wanted to see a moose ever since I was a child watching Captain Kangaroo and Mister Moose and Mr. Green Jeans. Years before I had gone all the way to Yellowstone and Glacier National Parks and the Tetons and I had not yet seen a moose. Seeing a moose was important. Bringing back a souvenir of the culmination of this life quest was, at least, explainable.

Did you know that on the west Coast the same year that we didn't see a moose, we also didn't see a killer whale? We did everything we were supposed to do. We went to the right place, paid the full price, got on the whale boat, went out in the fog. Orcas had been seen for 52 straight days and yesterday they had disappeared going west. The day we went we saw fog and we saw seals. No Orca. I had even prayed and had drawn and colored a picture to ensure that we would see whales. But God had another plan. He had earlier given me the unexpected pleasure of close encounters with mountain goats, and that was enough. I know he was right to do this, but at the time I questioned his motives.

We found the moose. We looked at it long and hard. The eyes were gone. Crows and ravens and vultures go for the eyes first. There were no antlers. It was as big as a horse. I already had a moose skull. I'll not have to take any more moose parts. I was satisfied. I had seen enough. I'd had my fill.

That evening we were late finding a campground. We found the town of Jackson with a river called, Moose River, and a campground called Moose River Campground. We checked in. They offered wireless internet. We needed that. We hadn't had internet since Gettysburg. Still excited about our previous successes, I told the lady. We saw a dead moose today.

She looked up and smiled. "Do you want to see a live one?"

She seemed to be serious and she seemed to be sure. She wasn't teasing me. She said hurry and set up camp and disconnect your tow vehicle and drive the road from here to there and be careful, drive slow or you'll .....

Oh my gosh! Collide with a moose. By accident we were at MOOSE GROUND ZERO!! We disconnected with haste and with just enough light to see, but not enough to take photos......we saw moose after moose after moose after moose and on until even after dark.....moose!

Later I read the modest pamphlet providing information about the campground and area. Not a word was written about moose. I suppose that at ground zero, it doesn't merit mention.

Hogs devour local man

When I was very young I heard the old folks telling a story that was both gruesome and shocking. The story was told at Granddaddy 'Will' Smith's house. I think that he was the one who was telling it. I remember that there were adults around, other family members I'm sure. I was young enough not to know what a skull was. There was the mention of a skull and I remember imagining that a skull would look like an egg yolk. At what age did I come to know what a skull was? Surely by age 5 I would have know. I guess that I heard this story before or around the age of 5. I recounted this little bit of family lore to my dad this year and he said that he had never heard it, but that he had heard of things like this before and he said it might well be true.

The way it was told, the way I remember it, it was as if it was something that had happened very near and I was sure at the time that they were talking about something that had happened long ago just behind the house, in the hog pen or the cow lot. There had been an old colored man, his name was given, but I do not remember that detail. This old man walked through the woods where the hogs were kept on his way to where he often had to go. He was proned to heavy drinking. He was missed by his folks for a time and noone knew where he had gone or where he might be. Eventually someone discovered a gruesome clue to the mystery surrounding the disappearance of this old man. A SKULL !! A skull was found in the hogpen, just a skull and a skull alone. A shining yellowish squishy rounded thing glistening on the dark wet ground. That is what I imagined a skull to be. I didn't know what a skull was, but I understood the implication that this skull was all that was left of that poor man. They speculated at that time and again as the story was recounted, that the man had stumbled and fallen or had passed out or laid down to go to sleep and the hogs had found him and probably had begun to eat him alive. They tore him apart and shredded him to pieces. They devoured him completely, his flesh, his bones, his clothing.....all gone. All gone except the slippery yellowish rounded thing. Why hadn't they eaten it? After all it was soft and squishy. Maybe it didn't taste as good as a bloody, muddy shirt. But for whatever reason, that is all that was left, only the skull.

Luke is a walking person

Luke walked 57 consecutive steps yesterday. Up until then he had been averaging maybe 5 steps. I hope I can embed a video of him taking about 20 steps yesterday evening. He was quite pleased with himself.

The Pollock reunion since ....1947

The descendants of William Washington Pollock will be gathering within 2 miles of the old homeplace (no longer standing). Daddy has kept up the graveyards, our old burying grounds, so that our Pollock people can visit and ponder their past. Both of the graveyards are in the edge of the woods on some of the old Pollock land. Grandma told me that when her nephew Victor was release by the Japanese in 1947 the Pollock reunion was born and it has been going on ever since. We remember with a candle WWPollock and his three consecutive wives and the 21 brothers and sister. Everyone brings food and we eat. There are alot of mini reunions going on within the big one as the members of various extended families pull up close to each other.

Last year, my new son, Luke was born on the 3rd of June and he and his mom didn't get released in time to attend. I rushed the doctor but to no avail. Wendy says I rushed labor, too. It didn't pay off in the end. Live and learn.

Now it looks like Luke's birthday is going to come around at the same time as the reunion.....every year. Our closest kin will start coming in tomorrow and converge at Mom and Dad's and that is where we will have a well attended party for Luke. We are going to have cake and a wading pool, and probably a few other things. Here is a picture of Luke just getting ready to turn one year old.

Pulling the seine net

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Originally uploaded by crowdive.

This weekend dad and I cut some trees in the wooded area near the pond. We are clearing a site to put a trailer. I found an old trailer that a woman was giving away just to get it out of her yard. It is pretty beat up and needs alot of work, but the repairs will be mostly cosmetic. I was thinking about setting it up as a rental, but after some thought, Wendy and I decided we could fix it up and maybe even live in it ourselves. We'll see.

After the work on the lot we got everyone together and went to the pond. Mr. A.L. Andrews got there first. He said he was going to catch the first fish, and that he did with his simple cane pole. Dad wanted to repeat the excitement of last year when he pulled a seine net and caught about 200 fish. Daniel encouraged him to wait until Angela and Jason could also be present this weekend. You can see all the pictures from Saturday on my flickr site. The catch was not as big as last year. We think that the net lifted and let alot of fish out. We caught a nice sample....several blue bream, sun perch, crappies, a shiner and a mud turtle. Everone had a good time.

Friendship Original Freewill Baptist Church and Cemetary

Friendship Original Freewill Baptist Church and Cemetary
Originally uploaded by crowdive.

I told you about this place in any earlier entry. This is the place where Grandma Smith, Granddaddy Smith, Aunt Vera, and her son Darrel are buried. It was the home church of my Great Granddaddy Allen Taft Smith, I'm pretty sure about that, but I'll need to ask Dad to confirm this. It is nice here and well kept. All of my people are buried in Jones County going back at least 200 years. I'll show you the rest soon. Most of them with 10 miles of each other.

Our little corner of the Pleasant Hill Cemetary

Our little corner of the Pleasant Hill Cemetary
Originally uploaded by crowdive.

This is where our people are buried. In the far right, back corner of the church cemetary. We have Reynolds' and Heath's here. That would be Granddady Heath's people and Grandmama Reynolds Heath's folks as well. You'll remember from a previous post that my grandparents met in the Plantation community between Comfort and Trenton.

This little church yard is quiet and sweet. I have been here to visit only a few times. Once or twice with Mom on one of her annual visits to place flowers on the graves of all our known kin. She does this every year and she came here in the past with her mom to do the same. My son, Daniel says he came here with her once, too, so this place is also know to him. Now you, too, know about it. Will you help me to remember to bring flowers to these graves when it is our time to remember? I know you will.

Looking at Boats

My brother Keith and Mom, Wendy, Luke and I all went together to Beaufort to look over a particular trawler that Keith wanted to inspect. He is looking for a boat that would be suitable for living aboard for awhile. I think that sounds like a great life, for a while anyway. I had also considered the possibility of owning and living on a boat some years ago. I eventually decided on the Airstream Camper/Trailer instead of getting a boat.

The boat we looked at was a used one with some obvious wear and it was in need of many improvements. It was large by my standards.....forty feet long. It had a galley and a head and it could easily sleep six. It was dry docked so we had to find a ladder to get into it. It was a little precarious trying to get Mom and Luke up so high, but we made it without injury.

On our outing we stopped to eat at the locally famous "Sanitary Seafood Restaurant" which now seats 600. We all had fried seafood and it was good.....fish, oysters, scallops, shrimp with hush puppies and sweet tea. The restaurant is on the water with a dock around it just outside the big windows. The sun was so bright reflected off the water. We watched boats as they passed and read the names and ports of origin. The weather was perfect. We left home at 10 and got back around 5:30. Daniel and Daddy were fine when we got back. They had found something to eat and had entertained themselves in our absence.

We'll have to get out like that again soon. Keith is still searching for the right boat. Maybe we can help him decide on the right one.

Friendship Original Freewill Baptist Church

This is the church of my Great Grandfather Allen Taft Smith. I have a picture of him in a large crowd standing on the bank of the river at a baptismal ceremony held by his church. His son, my Granddaddy Smith, and my Grandmama Lena Rivers Pollock Smith are buried there. It is a pretty place. Aunt Vera Mae Smith Collins and her infant son Darrell are buried here, too. My Aunt Vera was not extravagant in her demonstrations of love, but she was consistent and dependable and you knew what you could expect of her. I remember the little things that she did. She never forgot a birthday. She gave me sixteen pennies taped to the inside of a birthday card for my sixteenth birthday. They were arranged in the shape of the number "16". She was very meticulous when it came to preparing collards. When she washed them she would inspect the leaves carefully and tear out any part of the leaf that had been bitten off by a caterpillar.

I remember that she loved to spend time with me and my little brother Keith. Grandma said that she had a special feeling for little boys because of the one she lost. She talked to us alot and told us things that she thought were important. She explained that the exclamations, "Gah", "Gosh", "Golly" were really derived from the exclamation "God!" and that even those words might be in a sense be a form of taking the name of God in vain. Anything she told us or shared with us was done in a loving way. She didn't belittle or embarrass anyone in the way she corrected. She was sweet and good. She died suddenly and young, at fifty something. It was a terrible loss for so many of us.

Grandma told me about the big dinners that she remembered going to under the oaks at Friendship Church. They had long tables covered with cakes and fried chicken and biscuits and corn and green beans and all of the good things grown by the people of the neighborhood.

The cemetary and church are at Davenport's Crossroads at the intersection of SR 1002 and Highway 41 a little north of Trenton. Stop in for a visit there some Sunday. The people there will welcome you. Tell them I told you so.

They both help

They both help
Originally uploaded by crowdive.

This is the old cradle that has held all the babies in our family for a hundred years. Grandma Smith's cousins, Ed and Myra McDaniel gave it to her when she began her family. It originally had rockers, but when my mom needed it for her babies Granddaddy Smith took off the rockers and put wheels on it so mom could easily pull it from room to room. By the time I got to use it for Sarah (1982-1983) it had two or three of the spindles missing. I don't know how long they had been gone. I wanted to repair it long ago, but didn't get around to doing it then, nor did I do it when Stella and Daniel needed a cradle (1992 and 1993). Still all my children slept in it. My mom made it safe by making a soft bumper pad to go around the inside edges. Finally when Wendy and I were expecting Luke, I did get to work on the old cradle. I took it apart and had new spindles made by a local man, Mr Rawls, who lives on Pole Pocosin Rd. He made the replacements out of poplar. They were from the heartwood which is green in color. You can see two of them, one at each end of the cradle, in this picture. This picture shows mom and dad helping me to get it all back together. If you ever have to take it apart again, do color code or number the pieces so it goes together more easily.

I also repainted it all white again when we were finished with it. We only have need of it for 4 or 5 months and then the babies become too active.

Using the cradle for all of our babies is a tradition and we hope you will use it, too, as you begin your families. It is just a little piece of furniture that we treasure and it has a special place in our family history. The rocking chair that grandaddy and grandmama Heath gave to mom for rocking her babies and the little red rocker that they gave to mom for her children are the other special pieces of furniture that have a special meaning to us. More treasures that come to mind are great great granddaddy James Mack Pollock's little religious instruction book for young christians. Then there's the little darning basket which was the only thing granddaddy Heath had that had belonged to his parents (they died when he was 4). Aunt Mary Elizabeth gave me that and I love her for it. Also there is William Washington Pollock's bull horn that he used for calling his hounds and Great granddaddy Smith's gold pocket watch, and there are a few others that I can't remember right now.

I think that grandma Smith's old foot powered National Sewing Machine (purchased in 1916 according to the receipt in the drawer) is a treasure. Other things are becoming treasures because of the thoughts and feeling they bring forth. Mom's sewing machine would be hard to part with because I have seen her spend so many hours making clothes for herself and us. She has used it to hem pants for me and still does. She altered Sarah's wedding gown and made new bedding for the cradle when Luke came. I remember the "yenyenyenyenyenyen" sound that it made all these decades.

I treasure Dad's bear tooth, bear claw and rattlesnake rattle necklaces/truck ornaments. I will discover lots of other treasures as time goes on. These objects are most valuable because of the memories they evoke. They remind of us a story from the history of our family or they just give us a feeling when we look at them. I keep Grandma Smith's old linens and lace just because I saw her handle them with love and care. I remember the way she looked at them and that they evoked powerful memories for her. I haven't located the old socks that were made from the cotton on her daddy's farm and dyed with indigo that they also grew, but I can still see her handling them and I can still hear her speak of them as she carefully lifted them out of the old trunk and slowly unfolded them.

Happy Birthday in the Smith House

There's my young good-looking dad in the rear in front of the window. Aunt Naomi is almost hidden by grandma's hair. Aunt Daphne in on the far right and Aunt Vera is on the far left. Grandma and Granddaddy are in the center. It must have been Granddaddy's birthday. No one remembers what was in the box unless you can tell me? It looks like it was a real happy day.

All my grandparents together in the big house

In the rear are my dad's parents, Will and Lena Rivers Smith, and in the front are my mom's parents, Columbus and Annie Laura Heath. This picture was taken in the big house, The Curtis Place, or the McDaniel Plantation, as it was earlier called. Mom and all her brothers and sisters called that big house 'home'. They all moved there from a one room house, all 12 souls, when mama was about 5 or 6. The house was already old at that time as it was built around 1840. It was a good and sturdy old house though. My mom's family lived there at least until mom finished high school. I like this picture very much because it has both sets of my grandparents in the living room of the house that I eventually bought and restored. By the time I got it the house had fallen into disrepair and had been vacant for a decade. The windows were rotted and most of the glass had fallen out. There were large holes in the plaster walls. It was a mess. But that is another chapter......

My mom's family and my dad's family lived less than a mile from each other and the two families were good neighbors to each other and the families worked together to get their crops in. My dad's family owned a farm and a house. He says that he never got enough to eat until he left home to join the army. He tells us that mom's family had more and better food than what he remembers his family having. Mom's family were tenant farmers, living in a house and working land that belonged to someone else. Mom says they always had plenty to eat even though it might not be what they wanted. Grandma cooked biscuits every day and they were good biscuits. She told me when she was in her eighties that her mom had made big biscuits while hers were smaller. "I think I make a pretty biscuit", she said. They were distinctly hers and they weren't just pretty, they were good, too. Granddaddy taught us how to hollow them out in the middle with a spoon or finger and pour honey into the hole, just enough so that when you squeeze the biscuit the honey would rise to the top of the hole but not run out and make it messy. They were good.

My mom and dad, you see, were neighbors and they grew up knowing each other, working and playing together. I think that's sweet.

Also in the picture is a little girl. I have been told that it is probably my Aunt Naomi's daughter, Jo Ann.

Kite cam....Neil is in the picture

Kite cam....Neil is in the picture
Originally uploaded by crowdive.

Keith came home on Saturday and brought his kite and camera with him. He taped the camera to the kite and launched it. I have lots of pictures. This is a group of us watching the kite cam video. We had a great time. Wish you could have been here with us. Also Granddaddy and Gary and Rhiannon made a kite out of plastic and string and dog fennel weed stalks. Dad used to make kites with us when we were little. At times he would fly them completely out of sight! Once the string broke and we had fun following the string for a half mile to find the kite. Dad told us on Saturday that he and his Dad used to make kites together from newspaper. The glue they used was made from egg whites and water and he said he thought he remembered rubbing beeswax on the paper to make it stronger.
We have many good memories. And we keep creating new ones.

My Boy, Daniel

Daniel smiles
Originally uploaded by crowdive.

Here is Daniel all grown up. I can't keep up with all the words he can say now. He doesn't mispronounce anything any more. He is into guns and dogs and hunting and granddaddy and beef and trucks and some other things. I think he is pretty cool.

Lizard and Rhiannon

Lizard and Rhiannon
Originally uploaded by crowdive.

Rhiannon was the second initiate of the day. She is visiting with us for three weeks. She is my niece and she lives in Germany. We don't see her often enough, but at least she was initiated into the Sisterhood of the Lizard. Her life is forever changed. What will her boyfriend, Daniel, think of this when he finds out?

Ask an Ag Agent

Ask an Ag Agent
Originally uploaded by crowdive.

I keep running into people who have never hung a lizard from their earlobe. We've been doing it for our whole lives and it is just a coming of age rite around here. Some girls never enter the Sisterhood of the Lizard and some guys never become Brothers of the Lizard, but once you have been initiated you'll never be the same. The major effect of having been bitten by the lizard is that whenever you encounter a lizard and you happen to be in the company of the uninitiated, you will be compelled to chase and catch the lizard. If you catch it you will strongly encourage your acquaintences to take the bite. Other changes my also occur in the personality of the bitten, but these are not as well defined. Never attempt this alone, it is a meant to be done in the presence of others.

Here you see Stella with the lizard hanging from her ear. Franky, her brother-in-law, is trying to get the lizard to release. Some lizards release quickly while others are very reluctant to give up their grip. This one was reluctant and he held so tightly that it left a mark on Stella's ear. See her holding her hand over her heart?

Colored Ladies

Our current house is directly in front of the Jones County Fairgrounds. We haven't had a county fair since @ 1977 or thereabout. I have the fondest memories of going with my family to the county fair when I was young and then going with friends when I was in Junior High and High School. Cotton candy, bright lights, loud motors, mocking calls of the carnies, diesel fumes, exotic hoochie coochie dancers, bicycle drawings, snaggle tooth contests, beauty queens and champion livestock....all kinds of delights. Gosh, If I had know that the county fair was destined to disappear from my neighborhood forever I think I would have looked at it differently.

The old door pictured here was about 50 paces from the back door of where we now live. It is one of the doors of the public restrooms which stood near the entrance of the fairgrounds. I remember very well the separate water fountains and restrooms labeled Colored Ladies, White Ladies, Colored Men, White Men. In 2006 these old facilities were demolished, but as you see, not before I was able to get a picture of the door labeled, "Colored Ladies". The letters were bleeding through layers of paint that had been applied over the years in an attempt to erase evidence of a past that evoked shock to some, anger to others, shame to a few and pain to many. In my childhood I saw these things but didn't understand what I was seeing. Society was changing at a quickening pace so that by the time I began to understand my world it would transform itself again and I still find myself trying to catch up with it.

Daddy lifted me to the stage one evening to enter me in the snaggle tooth contest. I was reluctant to be thrust into the lights, but I also expected to win because my daddy couldn't be wrong. I had to be the most snaggle toothed child in the county. But I wasn't. I think the consolation prize was a piece of gum. Some years later I did win the yellow banana bike and I have considered myself a lucky person ever since that day.

We were a farm family and we only had one night a year to enjoy the sights and sounds of the fair. The very best part though was after all the fun and excitement, on the way home, daddy would stop the station wagon at the millpond across the water from the fairgrounds and we would sit for a moment and watch the lights of the rides....the ferris wheel, the zipper, the bullet, the scrambler, the tilt a whirl, the merry go round.... reflected off the water of the pond. It was magical.

I have seen the lights of Las Vegas, New York City, the aurora borealis and the fireworks on the fourth of July, but the feelings evoked by these do not compare with the feeling of being safe and tired with my mom and my dad and my brothers all together in the station wagon sitting quietly looking across the water of the millpond at the lights of the county fair. The knowledge that it was the biggest event of the year and that it would be a long time before it would be back again made it a very special night. And now it is gone.

Daniel's First Words....

Well, little Daniel, it's time to talk about your first word, son. These pictures show you on your birthday, 0 years old, you eating your favorite....noodles on the back porch and you lying asleep on the floor in the doorway between the hall and the back room of the old house.
The first dates I have written for you on the crumpled yellow paper are 11/24 & 26/1994 and it is not about a word you said but about another great accomplishment. It says "Began walking long distances (4-5 yards)". You were one year and one month old at that time. Then on 12/04/1994 you were able to say something like "dog" and "thank you"Noted beside these words it says that you have been refining these words for 1 to 2 months. I know they must have sounded more like "da" and "dot doo". So that would mean you started talking around the same time as you started walking. On Christmas day 1994 you could say "uh oh" when you were near something that you knew you weren't suppose to touch. On 1/08/95 you could day the chihuahua's name "Tump". The next day I wrote down that you said "Eat, eat, eat". On January 19th you called "Sarah woman" and Stella then said "old woman". Not all your
words were pronounced correctly, of course, and on Feb. 3 you said "fiss" for fish and "dop" for stop. On March 3 you said "Mama mama", "Eat eat eat". That meant you were hungry and mama had to get you something. Oh and don't think you weren't talking between the dates that I have written, you were, but I didn't write things down all the time. On May 15 I recorded "dog", "no", "thank you", "no no". You would call many vehicles "big truck" or "bih tuk" but you hardly ever called a car that. If it really was a big truck you said it louder and with more emphasis. You could make motor sounds too, and ask the question "what that?" or "who that?". Also on May 15 Stella set up a tea party on the bottom bunk and you joined her and pretended to drink tea.
On May 27 you said "too" for "shoes". You pronounced Sarah and Stella the same way, "ehwa" or "dehwah" I heard Stella answer you one time, "I not 'dehwah'" She thought you were saying Sarah. In June sometimes you would just make some talky noise like "blah blah blah Boo Boo blah blah" while looking at an insect bite. You also liked to play a game where I would shake my hair and get it over my eyes and you would push it out of my eyes. In June I heard you say "hot!" and you could imitate "mimi". You started saying "mine!" and "uh huh"

In July you said "mimi" on your own and "ae piss" for "apples" and "poo poo" was the word for "doo doo". In August you asked me "what's that daddy?" and then you answered "doggy". You could tell Stella, " 'mon della" which meant "come on Stella" and I heard you say "see boach" for "see boat".

Jump forward to March 1996 and you said, "Doats 'side dark" meaning the "goats are outside in the dark". "Dat's Lolly book" (grandma Laura's book). You were hungry and standing in front of the refridgerator and said "hmmm, I know" and then you opened it to get what it was that you knew you wanted. You told Stella "Don't sing that, NO, Barney" ---"Don't sing that Barney Song!!" Also you told someone, "you not baa tub" meaning "you're not in the bathtub".

In April of 1996....Once you were proud of yourself... " I dot top....yeah!" (I got the milk jug lid off all by myself) .I asked you 'where's your cup?' and you answered "In mama bed.....I dit it". ( I'll get it ) Describing a toy...."It funny, funny bunny rabbit, funny hat". Also in April "that my bed", "I help my ma", but it sounded more like "ae' my beh" and "I hep my ma". Also, "I fall down" , "an oo elp me?" (can you help me?), "hey mama watch this". We must have had a string of lights up for something in April and you said "a light in trees...hmmmm", "a light on house too....hmmmm". In that same month you saw some missing bricks under the house and said "a hole". That month I also heard you say, "that mommy room" and "daddy look, that my hand". April was a big talking month for you....."Tim, I want go, I want go Tim", "Tim dawn de work", "della in mama bed, I dit in mama bed too", "I want hot dog".

At the end of April, Stella didn't want help turning her shirt around from backwards. She said, " I'm four, I'm four, I'm not a baby anymore" I wrote this on your word page, Daniel because it was cute and new and Stella's word sheet had long been put away in a safe place.

Finally in May I could ask you, "who's that?" while pointing at you and you could answer "dahnool" instead of "nahnool". On May 8th you had a fever and I held you and you went to sleep for the first time in my arms since your were a tiny baby. I liked the way it felt to hold your sweet warm body in my arms while you slept. You never were very cuddly, so it was an extra special event to hold you close for so long.

Later in May...."I 'oant 'awnt a do it"...."I don't want to do it". " I 'awnt put in tuh"==I want to put in the tub (candy)". I had to tell you "no Daniel!" and you asked. "why?...Why daddy? .. .Why?" You could be contrary at times....lots of times!

Of course for much of this time you were calling granddaddy "Ha Daddy" and I heard you say to him once, "I had it First!"

June 26, 1996 I asked you, "Do you need to pee pee in the potty?" and you answered, "Uh uh, I'm already pee pee in the potty" Not long after that I asked you to tell what you had done today and you answered, "Pee pee Pot, come home, P(l)ay toys!"

In July of 1996, "I want nuther hot dog din (again)", "you hair putty (perty) you". "Daddy you a doctor.....I a firetruck, OK?"

In August you saw me looking in the hall closet and asked, "Daddy, what you looking for?......" And Stella was still saying "bigoshuwa pudding" for "butterscotch pudding".

It sure has been fun watching you grow up my young man. I won't stop admiring you.....never....never.....I'm so proud of you.

smile all

smile all
Originally uploaded by crowdive.

Combining families has gone better than anyone should expect ....Jason and Michael in the rear, Stella and Angela in the middle and Daniel in the front. This one was taken in Grandma and Granddaddy's pool. We have all had alot of fun there. Granddaddy threatened to stock the pool with fish and to stop keeping the water treated and clear (it's alot of work if noone's swimming). The children conspired to swim alot to keep the fish out. So far this has worked. We don't know what next summer holds.

airstream and suburban in the desert... wow

airstream and suburban in the desert wow
Originally uploaded by crowdive.

This picture evokes the best of memories. This was taken about 6 or 7 years ago somewhere in the southwestern US. There is something about the west, I don't know what it is, but I like it and I knew I would. We drove all the way to California and back, my dad and mom and Daniel and Stella. This trip had been in the making since I was in the second grade at Trenton Elementary School. My teacher, Mrs Tiny Hammond talked to us about her trip out west, the desert, the cacti, the mountains, the Mexican children begging for chicle (gum), the sands and the Sequoia trees. My teacher's description of her experiences started my interest in seeing the West for myself, and about 35 years later it became a reality. Thank you Mrs Tiny. Thank you mom and dad. Thank you Daniel and Stella. It was the perfect trip--full of anticipation, expectancy, adventure, mishaps, discovery. This trip exceeded my expectations and my expectations were high. It would be impossible to repeat it. It couldn't have been done earlier. The time was just right and it will never come again. I thank God for orchestrating our lives so that we could make this trip together, the five of us. Look for more pictures to be added later.

They are posing

They are posing
Originally uploaded by crowdive.

We couldn't leave well enough alone. So we sent Michael off to Virgina Tech to make him even better. This is one time when we went up there to get him for a break. We had to wait around for him to play his trumpet at a military ceremony. Then we brought him home. Doesn't he have a pretty mom?

Neil and Wendy on the Dock with Gulls

a posed picture
Originally uploaded by crowdive.

Neil and Wendy.....oh look, Neil's airwalks are new and that shirt was a favorite. Wendy's looking good, too. Wendy was a bit pregnant that day. Oh and what a good mother she turns out to be. Every baby should be so fortunate. Oh yeah and a great wife and friend, too. She can talk about just about any subject and is often very reasonable. She doesn't nag either. Some men just get lucky?

Tigger kisses Luke

tigger kisses Luke
Originally uploaded by crowdive.

Luke was happy to kiss his Tigger toy last night. He did it several times at my urging and was quite happy with himself (and with Tigger). Uncle Matt gave this Pooh Original Tigger to Luke when Luke visited him at Princeton near the last of February. If you don't recognize Tigger....this is the original Tigger before Disney altered him. We think this one is more appealing and so does Luke. Obviously.

Holy Crow!

02-21-07 098
Originally uploaded by c.updegrave.

Look at this! I've been looking for this shot for a long time. Perfect. I wonder if this flickr member will let me use it?

Stella's first utterances

Stella Dare, I found your list of first words tonight, so I'll start with you.

Around October of 1993 you were a year and a half old. You could say:

Bubble, Bah, Duck, dog, 'tat' for 'cat', dada, papa, bowl, Mimi, wa-wa, 'boon' for 'moon'. By the end of November 1993 you could say: 'bup' for 'burp, bag, 'dot dog' for 'hot dog', 'bommy' for 'barney', 'pi' for 'pig', 'dock' for 'sock', 'didi' for 'sissy'. On December 1993 you were jumping up and down on the bed and I was holding to your shirt for safety, you told me, 'dop mama.....dada' Once you called your mama 'didi' by mistake (sister). Around this time you saw fried chicken gizzards for the first time and called them 'doo doo'. It was January 1994 when words started coming out two at a time.....'mama bubble', 'daddy up' (pick me up), 'up didi up' (sarah pick me up!), mine (not Sarah's), Hi daddy, Hi didi, 'stop don't' (don't cry Sarah), Bye duck, 'didi buh' (sister's bus), off (mittens off), doo doo pot (potty), night night didi, 'rain' (in shower).

In February 1994: Eat pig, like like no like (tangerine), rain peas rain (please turn on the shower), bonnie bed (barney?), 'tote off' (coat off), 'mon sissy' (come on sis), 'ting' (string), 'mouf look' (look a mouse), 'nap peas' (napkin please), 'mama dipe' (mama diaper--kotex), 'mama butt mouse' (mama your barrette looks like a mouse), 'didi dool buh' (sister's school bus), 'burn hiney' (commenting on Jack be Nimble), 'tolor' (color). In March of 1994 you could say: look Barney shoes, 'mou didi dot' (sister's got a mouse), party hat on, Peas read dis, I want bobbie (bottle?), 'what?' (when we called her), dool buh tum back home, back home noon, take me mimi house (to grandpa), mama pank me, ki didi hiney, mon didi-law house ( come on sissy to grandma laura's house), wet heavy white one (pigeon).

In April of '94 you could say: do it tef ( I can do it myself ), daddy lightbulb gone, please comb my hair didi, no-baby (her answer to 'you're a big girl like didi), grandpa be here take me mimi house, (cow killer) bite me go hosp doc), didi bus my tee.

May and June: what animal got those ducks? (had heard us talking about a bush hog mishap), like daddy did (clean my nose), he might bite me (dog- Tumpy), mad you mama, I like it ---good!(weiner), big girl--me big girl, uh huh dats right daddy (we are putting the pegs in a board), I love barney, I love my budduh (brother), Me hae booboo on my leg, put right dare daddy, Tim got me pink pool take mimi house, I feel better now, And you can sing Twinkle Twinkle and the Barney Song.

In July of 94 you can say... I don't want it (meat), I ate my tereal bowl all gone, cowboy daddy, I love my dara (with a big hug).

Stella, the last date on your word list is 8/20/94.... moon not here anymore--get up. Let me see outside, dawn (gone) working outside.

It sure was fun watching and listening to you learn to talk. I love you!!!

Great-great granddaddy James Mack Pollock's little book

After Grandma died we found this book in the closet under the stairs in her house. This closet was the place where Grandma hid her treasures like silver dollars and a peg from the joinery of her daddy's house. This old book was her granddaddy's. It was published in 1854 and it is a religious instruction book for young people. I don't remember her ever showing it to me. Maybe she thought that it was special to no one but herself. I remember once she told me a story about a treasured object (I can't remember what it was) and I told her I thought it would be good for someone to write it down so it wouldn't be forgotten. She thought the idea was funny and she joked, "what good are you if you can't remember it?" Knowing how memory fails me, I think it's best that I record these things. She would forgive me, I'm sure.

doggie dental disaster

There is nothing that sets the mind to turning like finding your toothbrush wet when you know it should be dry. That is the position that I found myself in one day long ago when Sarah was little. How little? I don't know, pretty little. She told me today that she doesn't remember this incident though she has heard it spoken of a number of times.

I found my toothbrush.....WET! Yuck! It couldn't have fallen into the sink. Someone had to have handled it. But who? But why? After some reflection I thought to ask Sarah if she knew which toothbrush was hers. Yes, she did know and she showed me. I asked her if she knew why daddy's toothbrush was wet and yes, she also knew the answer to that query. "I brushed Digger's teeth with it", she stated calmly. I dug deeper, "You brushed Digger's teeth with Daddy's toothbrush?" showing her the one that I was speaking of. "Yes", she answered. I felt a little queasy and a tad violated and I said to her, "Honey, that's daddy's toothbrush, that's the one I use to brush my teeth, daddy doesn't like to put a toothbrush in his mouth after it has been in the dog's mouth, OK?" Sarah answered "OK" and as far as I know she never used my toothbrush in that way again. I don't know if she found other jobs for my toothbrush. I don't remember finding it wet again, though. It was soooo funny after I got over the initial shock of it. I didn't over-react. I didn't get angry. I just expressed calmly that I didn't like sharing my toothbrush with anyone, not even our sweet doggie. Shocking, but soooo funny. I wonder why she chose mine and not mama's or her own? I guess good sense prevailed? I hope I never forget that day.

Another bathroom story. Sarah was in the bathroom running water and entertaining herself. Children have legitimate things to do with water and bathrooms, no problem..... About that time I hear water hitting the floor, Sarah comes running out of the bathroom exclaiming, "Daddy! Daddy! The sink is UNDERFLOATIN'!!!!" I was there in a flash and sure enough the sink was overflowing or underfloatin' or something. I don't know which one makes the most sense. If you look at the words logically, when a sink is full and water is flowing over the edges.....the sink is actually somewhat UNDER water and so could be described as underfloatin'. Contrarily the word OVERFLOW might evoke a picture of a sink OVER something. But this sink was not over, it was under. Flow and Float, well they're almost the same word when you are young. It is all so confusing. And in an emergency........ well, anything will do!

I have lots of stories about my babies' speech and language development. I jotted down the words and sounds and sentences they spoke when they were very young. I kept a sheet of paper on the fridge for each one of them just for that reason. It was so much fun to do it and even more fun to share these stories with them....and you. Stella had a special word for fried chicken liver and Daniel was rather late learning the meaning of tailgate. I can tell you about that later. I've just got to dig out those crumpled, stained pieces of paper with the words scribbled beside the dates of occurrence. I've started a new one for Luke just a week or so ago. I hope I don't miss anything.

There are plenty of failures in my life and yes, a few regrets, but one thing I know is that I have savored my children. I watched them closely. I met them at their level and I saw the world fresh through the eyes of each one. This has been the ultimate experience of my life. My best and proudest accomplishment is that I was a part of their upbringing and that maybe I played some small positive role in the development of their personhood. I have very good parents. They set a high standard in parenting. I am thankful for that. I hope I have been a good one too.

The Crows at Trenton Station

Originally uploaded by crowdive.

We were lucky on the morning of our departure. The crows from a nearby rookery were dispersing for the day and we saw thousands of them perching on powerlines and trees as they moved toward their destinations. In the winter crows gather in huge flocks to socialize and to benefit from the safety found in numbers. The owl is the predator that most torments the crow family and in these huge flocks the odds are against any one particular crow being eaten. Crows have held my attention since I saw my first small flock about 30 years ago. Crows in our area had been nearly exterminated by poisons used in agriculture so that when I was small there were no crows to be seen. When I was a young teenager I saw a flock of 5 crows and several years later I saw a flock of 11. From there the numbers increased each year so that now I see crows daily and occassionally am luck enough to learn the whereabouts of a roost where many thousands of crows sleep overnight during the winter and early spring. I'll have more to say about crows and ravens later...

A Weekend with MATT! at Princeton

We're back home after visiting Matt at Princeton where he goes to school and teaches. While we were there Matt showed us around the town and the university. We saw the beautiful chapel where Matt's award winning piece, Ana Beko' Ach, was first performed. He showed us the grave of Aaron Burr and we saw some water fowl that I have not yet identified. We watched a South Park Movie and visited his synagogue. Matt cooked for us, took us out to restaurants, played the piano and sang for us. His wit and intelligence was an endless source of entertainment. Isn't that what we all want.....to be entertained? We took scads of pictures and you can see all of them at my flickr photo site. Our pictures include: the unidentified water fowl, the Princeton Chapel, the restaurants, the foods we ate, Matt's apartment, Matt's office at Princeton, the Choir College, the cemetary, the crows leaving Trenton Train Station, our train ride, the Selma train station, oh, and of course, Matt.

The mill dam repaired and working

The mill dam repaired and working
Originally uploaded by crowdive.

Here is a full view of the dam and the mill house. The gates under the mill are closed and the millpond should stay full for centuries. The wildlife will return in time. People will be seen fishing here again soon. My family has already been canoeing several times. I'll never take our pond for granted again. Neither should you.