Page 0: Page 1: Page 2: I was born after World War One; but I think you could say that I lived through a lot of the aftermath. I was raised up during the great depression. My dad could not find work and we were on relief. We never went hungry, but we did not have very many luxuries. I grew up on Madison Street in Chicago. I lived through World War Two; Gene was in the navy in the South Pacific when our fourth son was born. There was rationing, but it didn’t bother me too much. We did not own a car until we left Chicago, you didn’t need a car there. Public transportation took you wherever you wanted to go. I was on State Street in Chicago the night the war was over; so was everyone else in Chicago that night. You couldn’t drive a bicycle down State Street, let alone a car that day. It was a wild time, Strangers kissing strangers glad the war is finally over, and our men can come home. We had problems after gene returned, and we had to work them out. I was used to managing the finances, and making the decisions; and fixing what ever was broke at the movement. And Gene had gotten used to just thinking about himself, and living the moment. Page 3: Christmas: Mom and dad always had a nice Christmas for us when we were young. Dad and mom always made about forty pounds of candy each Christmas. This was for us and to give for presents. Always an apple an orange in our stockings, these were treats for us. Dad decorated the living room. One year he had an arch down the center of the room with garland and crepe paper; we had ten-foot ceilings at the time. He could not keep heat in the room all the time, he would build a fire in the stove in the colds evenings. When the crepe paper was cold, it stretched and sagged down, we loved to watch the crepe draw back up with the heat. Another time he had a circle about two-feet out from the chandelier with crepe paper and garland going up to the top of the chandelier and out to the wall. Dad would spend a lot of time doing this every Christmas. He tried to do it different every year. Page 4: Gene and I were sitting by the Christmas tree when he proposed to me. This was Christmas night in 1938. Christmas 1939 we had our own Christmas tree. I have put up a tree every year since. I even put a tree up for Gloria Jean the year we lost the boys. She was two that year. It was only a plastic tree with pop-beads for decorations; but at least it was a tree. One year in southern Illinois, I didn’t have an ornament for the top of the tree; so I made an angel out of a doll, I made wings and a halo out of cardboard, covered it with cigarette wrappers. It was too heavy for the tree, so Gene had to fasten it to the ceiling. That year Donny got a cork popgun for Christmas; the cork was fastened to the gun with a string. He loved to tell me “I’m going to shoot the angel.” We always opened the gifts on Christmas morning. One year, Charlie was in Iowa and we didn’t think that he would be home for Christmas; so we opened the gifts Christmas Eve. He had driven all night through a blinding snowstorm to make it home for the gift opening. We were all sick because we had opened them the night before. Mom and Dad always put the tree up after we were all in bed Christmas Eve. I continued this with my children until they were older. We always left the tree up until the day after new years day. These are just a few of the Christmases that I remember. Page 5: We did not have electric when we first moved to southern Illinois; no radio, there was no such thing as a television yet. Hey, we managed. The boys did their homework by lamplight. There was a lot of companionship around the kitchen table. I washed clothes on a board, and wrung them out by hand. When we lost the boys and my mother in the fire; I could not possibly pay every back that helped us. All I can do is help other people along the way, as I travel through this life. When a person loses a child, they cannot picture them as an adult. They always stay children in your mind. I have tried to picture each of them, as they would be now by comparing how they would look; with how the other members of my family look now. I can’t do it. I will always keep them as little boys in my heart and mind. Page 6: Pilot’s license I think it’s about time for me to apply for my pilot’s license. I should be able to pass the test. “I am very good at piling it here, and piling it there.” When I clean the Kitchen, I carry everything of the counters, stove and sink, and the Freezer and the washer and dryer and pile it on the table. Then I clean each surface and pile everything back in its place. Same with the living room and bedroom. When I sit at the table in the kitchen, I pile all my books and all that I need for the day. I love to let the mail, bills, round file magazines all pile up for days, and then I pile it all on the bed and sort through it. Page 7: Televised war: Our history instructor said “we will fight the revolutionary war next week”, I asked him if it would be televised. I lived though World War two. I doubt if there were as many people wrapped up in it like we have been about the gulf war, And Desert Storm. Most people were glued to there television sets when they were not working. The county lived it. At first I kept the TV turned to CNN, it was on all day on that channel. Waiting to catch a glimpse of my son who was stationed in Saudi, I got too depressed, worried sick about him (my only living son left.) Gail talked me into joining the support group for families with loved ones in the gulf war. Page 8: A long walk home: The blind deaf exercise in psychology brought back a memory of a walk I had with my four boys. The boys and I walked up to a neighbor’s house, about tree miles from home. They lived on the top of the hill. We didn’t leave early enough to get home before dark. We got down the hill and back on our road before it got pitch dark. It was in the dark of the moon and slick cloudy. We couldn’t see our hands in front of our faces. The boys were seven, six, five, and four. I had to feel the ruts in the road with my feet. We had two corduroy bridges to cross to get back home. (A corduroy bridge is made putting two logs across a creek, and putting logs across them; and two rows of lumber across the logs for cars to drive on.) The boys were all very frightened; and I was too, but I did not dare to let them know that. I had a hold of the two youngest boys, and the two oldest hung on my dress tail. We were glad when we could see the kerosene lamps in windows. I made sure from then on to get back home before it dark, unless there was a full moon. Page 9: Falling Leaves: The seasons are changing. The trees are putting on their beautiful fall costumes. What a spectacle they present for our enjoyment. I don’t think I would like to live in Evergreen County. I would miss the vivid colors. I still have to get out with my camera. I like to get pictures of some of the fall trees. They make a beautiful addition to a photograph album. I am not as good with a camera as Gail (my daughter) is. She is a photographer; I am not: I just aim and shoot. Gail checks the aperture, shutter speed etc. Gail gets the pictures that take the ribbons at the county fair. I just enjoy the pictures I take: No prizewinners here, just scenes I like. As long as they please me, that’s all that counts. The trouble with falling leaves is raking them. I doubt if very many people really like raking leaves. Page 10: Weight Loss: When someone says something about being overweight,” I tell them anyone can be little and cute like my daughter Gail, it isn’t everyone that can be big and wonderful like we are.” I have asked my girls if they thought I could lose weight and still hold all the wonderfulness. They seemed to think I could. I am trying to lose weight slowly. I want to be sure to compact all the wonderfulness. I wouldn’t want to be skinny and grouchy. I would rather be fat and jolly. I sang the song “ I love myself, I think I’m grand. I go to the picture show just to hold my hand. I put my arm around my waist, and if I get fresh I slap my face;” for some of my classmates when I did the paper on “Why I am, who I am.” Page 11: Leaverites: I started collecting rocks in the middle seventies. I accumulated quite a collection. A lot of the pieces I found or have bought while on our travels after Gene retired from the railroad; and after we had moved to Kentucky. One day I was walking with my grandchildren on our gravel road, Lynn picked up an interesting rock and gave it to me; because she had given it to me I put it in my pocket, I told her it was a leaverite. Well that started something I hadn’t planned on. Lynn, Jimmy, Tina, and Jeff each tried to out do each other in finding leaverites for gamma. It wasn’t until they got older that I told them what a leaverite really was: It’s really a dull rock; leave it right there. Well when Jimmy was at the house with his own daughter, and she was bringing gamma a leaverite. He ask me what a leaverite really was and I told him. He said “Thank you gamma for retuning the love we gave you by keeping the leaverites until we forgot about them. Page 12: A Rock Hunting trip: One Sunday afternoon, Gene took Jimmy, Lynn and I took a trip to the rock quarry at Green River Knob in Casey county. The gate was locked, so we had to leave the truck outside of the entrance gate. Gene and Jimmy stayed at the truck while Lynn and I went looking for leaverites. We climbed all over huge blocks of Limestone that day. We found some nice pieces of dolomite, and chalcedony. We had a good time and some very nice pieces to bring home. We were almost back to where the truck was parked, when I felt my foot start to slide out from under me; and I heard a sharp crack, Yep I had broken my ankle. Well I went down with a flop; with pain shooting clear up my leg. Fighting back tears so the Lynn couldn’t see. I felt very stupid. Lynn wasn’t much bigger than a minute, but all grown up as she said, “lean on me gamma, I help you get back to the truck.” Page 13: My greatest fear this semester: Can I do it? Can I complete two years of college, of classes? Is there too much water under the bridge? Am I too old, will the classes help me put my life in a book for my descendents. Will my health stand up to the test? Will I be able to keep a car running? These are just some of the questions that I ask myself as I’m writing in this journal for class. Page 14: Finals: 12/8/91 Next week is finals week. I thought about making myself superglue cocktail, before I study for them, but it might work too well. What would I do with all that information glued in my short-term memory? There would not be any room for what I have to learn next semester. I think will just try washing my hair in Elmer’s glue. Maybe enough will soak in through my thick skull and help the information to stick long enough to take the test. I could try eating a lot of fish, it is supposed to be good brain food; but how much would I have to eat? How much water would I have to drink for the fish to swim around in. I might have to spend all my time in the little girls room if I did that. Page 15: The first semester is behind me. I should know by the 27 th of Dec if I passed the classes. I think I wound up with a C average, I hope so. I don’t think that would be too bad for my age. I hope to do better next semester. I took the last final exam today, I think I did pretty well; it says here in small print. A New Year: What will it bring? I have one semester of college behind me. I hope and pray that my health will let me continue. I know it is very good for me to be out among people. It is very easy to just stay home and not put out any effort to get ready to go someplace… I will be glad when school starts again. Last year bought three new great-great-grand daughters. Each one is very precious. Page 16: The second Semester: I am in my fourth week of my second semester of college. I am enjoying it even better than the first. I am taking Writing 102, Public Speaking, Sociology, and History 1865 to the present. I am not worried about the tests as bad as I was that first semester. I am giving my first regular speech tomorrow. The speech is about people trying to get Waldo to cuss, and my opinion of it. The groundhog saw his shadow yesterday; so six more weeks of winter. I hope we do not have any bad roads to drive through to get to class this semester. Page 17: