Another Reason For Pictures

I am still uncovering some pictures that my mother had in a little 4"x7" scrapbook. I knew I had them somewhere. I started looking for a picture of my sister Juanita a few days ago. I found one. It's a group picture, it will have to do. They were all black and white and chock full of love and history as well as insight into some of the stories my mother used to tell.
My mother was raised close to Cherokee, Iowa on a farm that had originally belonged to my Great Grandfather Nathan Hayes. He gave it to  my grandmother, Lulu E. Hayes Banister for a wedding present. She had married my grandfather, G.D. Banister son of G.W. Banister one of the original settlers of Cherokee, Iowa.
It happened that my father being single  was looking for work. The Depression was in full swing. My grandfather hired him for a hired hand around the farm. Dad had experience doing farm work in what he used to call The Dakotas. He helped thrash oats and picked corn and a general farm hand. You see my father was raised by his elderly grandmother due to his mother's very early death and his father being a victim of a stroke. He was a determined young man and vowed to finish high school. That he did at the age of 27. He had to work to pay for his clothes and food. When he had enough he would go back to school. He was part of the Cherokee basket ball team which he was very proud. My brother still has the Year Book with his picture in it. When his money ran out he would go back to work. That's just how much an education meant to him.
Well, in those days a hired hand was part of the family and ate meals with the family at the kitchen table. The kitchen had a west window that allowed the sun to shine on my mother's auburn hair. He told me one day that he fell in love with that beautiful woman with the sun glowing in her red hair. I'm sure that the sun made the red more red when it was directly shining on it.
Here are some pictures of the two people that ended up being my parents for many many years.
My brother, Keith R. Johnson and my father look so much alike. This picture looks like he is at a park pavilion, note the picnic basket in the background. My daughter mentioned that she would always recognize his posture. He stood like that even in his older age.

The next picture asks many questions. He is wearing an apron which he did in latter years as a lineotype operator at the Cherokee Daily Times newspaper, but I cannot determine exactly what he is doing in this photo. Again he and my brother are mirror images.
My father's birthday will be soon in January. He was born in 1903. He was nine years older than my mother. This picture of her makes me smile. There are many pictures of her always wearing a hat. Note pants and high heel shoes. She was making a fashion statement that's for sure. (I have a feeling that my grandparents were not impressed.)
And the last picture is of them together. Very much in love.
He lived to be 75 and my mother lived until she was 90.

Christmas When I Was A Small Child

When I was a small child I lived in an old farm house. It had a roof and windows and kept the rain and wind out. However, it had little else. No air conditioning, no calking around the windows to keep the dirt and cold out on windy days. The walls were not insulated with anything but perhaps some plaster over the fragile thin slats of wood that were beneath layers and layers of wallpaper.

LuAnne
8 months

My father hated rodents worse than my mother and was constantly warring the battle of intruding mice. He would find their holes that they had successfully chewed through from inside the walls and cover them with the lids of tin cans. I can still see him using tiny nails to try to inconspicuously as possible keep them out.
When it was Christmas time as far back as I can remember we had some kind of tree. I remember once it was a scrub bush type tree. I remember that because of some grumbling/murmering discussion about it between my mother and father. I was so young that I couldn't understand what the problem was, I loved that little scrub tree.
I also remember we had no tree stand. My father again, with his trusty saw and hammer and nails would make one to surround the tree. It always looked to me like wooden feet. Mother would always cover up the "feet" with a clean white sheet.
If you have read very many of my childhood memories, you will remember how very poor we were, but there always seemed to be a dime for a box of silver tinsel. I can remember my mother teaching me just how to hang it on the tree to cover the barest parts. When we were through, you could not see through the "holes." We had bubble lights that had a mind of their own. Often my dad left the lights on the tree even though they didn't work, because during the day they were pretty. Different colors of yellow, green, and reddish orange as I remember. Mother tried so very hard to keep her glass ornaments safe year to year. However, each year it seemed that she had less and less to choose from.
 She had "rags" that were pieces of old sheets that she wrapped some of her favorites with, but she also saved some of the peach wrappers when she canned peaches. She used some of those to protect her treasures also.  There were no paper towels in those days that I knew of.
That's it except for the star topper. I don't even remember what it looked like now, it's been so very long ago. But I do remember it was a star.
I can remember the very "lean" years, not with sadness at all, but with so much love that I was always surrounded with. Christmas was one  purchased gift and one homemade gift and church. And don't forget our stockings on Christmas morning which always had an orange and some peanuts in the shell and Christmas hard candy in them.
 We were taught from our very young ages that Christmas was not about gifts, but about kindness to others, and the Christian meaning of the beginning of Christmas. We knew the Biblical story of the birth of Baby Jesus by heart by the time we were 6 or 7 at the oldest.
Over the years my parents finances and circumstances improved. The trees became more lush, some flocked, some with pine cones, and some were artificial during the end of their lives.
I can remember the last tree that they had they used over and over again. I was never disappointed because it remained the same year to year. It was home when I walked in the door.
That's what I remember; home. Not fancy, not a very warm house when I was a child, but warm hugs and lots of laughter. Christmas.

My Dad And Veteran's Day

My dad was a quiet spoken and gentle man. He seldom raised his voice. He loved his family with a fierce love that equaled few. He was not a veteran.
 I was born in 1944. As I have mentioned several times in my posts, I was constantly asking questions. As I got older and went to school, of course, I learned about Veteran's Day.
I went to school in Cherokee, Iowa. My grade school was called Lincoln Elementary. I can remember asking for a nickel to take to school to watch the Veteran's Day movie upstairs.

Upstairs was a long ways up for a little girl. I can remember the steps were cement and the edges showed silver all the way across from hundreds of people using them for years and years.
In those days, Veteran's Day was observed on the 11th day of the 11th month at 11:00 in the morning. It was then that an armistice was signed to end war and start peace among all nations in the year of 1918. It was the day that the first world war had ended. The world had never seen anything like WWI. Over a million people had been killed. Nothing like that war was ever expected to happen again. But of course, it did.
My ancestors had fought for our freedom since the Revolutionary War. My great great grandfather fought in the Civil War and my Uncle was in active duty during WWII. My brother was in the Navy for several years as well.
Well, of course I asked my daddy if he was a veteran. I can actually remember him hanging his head when he answered me. He said, "No, I didn't pass the physical." His brother had been in active service also. Mom and Dad would get letters in the mail from both Dad's brother and Mom's brother.
It took me a few years of growing up to understand just how important Dad felt that his brother and brother-in-law's jobs were compared to his.
My father was a farmer at that time. He did his duty for his country by helping feed the folks that were still left in our country. I can remember them taking food into town for folks at the church that needed help because their "bread winner" was in the service. I can also remember someone stealing food out of their car one night. Mom told me she was sure that whoever stole their food was hungry. That's the way folks used to be. Yes stealing was wrong, but hungry children is wrong also. We had very little money, but we did not ever go hungry.
My children's father was a veteran of WWII and won the Silver Star for saving lives of his men from a German attack. He often said to me, "I just don't understand why I was saved when men that fought with me were not. They had wives and children at home. I did not." He had several brothers that were in the service at that time also.
My mother-in-law had brothers that either served in the service or helped our nation by building bridges and roads. Her mother hung their pictures proudly on her living room wall I was told by one of her nieces. When the war was over one of her brothers joined the Navy. Marie said that her mother was not a bit understanding of that decision, saying, "The war is over, you don't need to go." I think many mothers feel the same way. My mother was when my brother left. The fear of him being hurt and also just missing him was told many times over the years.
My husband had three children in the service as well. It seems everyone knows someone that was or is a veteran. Thank you for all that you do to protect our flag and our freedom. Do not ever hang your head because you don't pass the physical. There is so much you can do for your country at home.

Voting Day A Long Long Time Ago

When I was a little girl, I have often mentioned in my posts that I had an inquiring mind much to my grandfather's chagrin. He thought that little girls should be quiet and never enter into grown up conversations. I do remember my mother standing up to him one time. Seldom in those days did children, even grown up children stand up to their fathers. But this time she did. Mother told her father that if LuAnne didn't ask questions she wouldn't learn new things. She continued to tell him that she had every right to ask questions. Wow! When I think of that conversation now it just makes me smile. He was such a stern man and he liked to think he ruled the roost. Only at this time he wasn't ruling my mother's roost. Ha!
Eventually, however, my constant questions and singing and talking at our table did make my own quiet spoken father take action. He did indeed tell me that at the table there was to be no singing and I could speak when spoken to. You have to remember that this was when I was six to eight years old or younger.
As I grew older I was more aware of not only my home environment, but also aware of what was going on in the country due to current events in school. Elections were talked about and discussed in school.
One evening my mother and father left my brother and me home alone with my sister while they went to an old school house to vote. Two things to note here; they rarely if ever left us home and another we lived in the country.
 Of course, as soon as they got home I asked them who they voted for. Oh my, I got a lecture! I was told that it was no one's business who people voted for and furthermore do not ask again. My parents did not react like that. Both of them were quiet, my father more so than my mother. Since I got that stern response I never asked again, or for that matter didn't ask why I couldn't ask who they voted for. What was the big deal?
I found out when I was older why the secrecy of their voting when I was a teen and young adult; McCarthyism. There was a movement in the early 50's that wreaked havoc with Americans. Many Americans would be accused of being Communists and would be Black Listed. There were even movies stars that would be Black Listed and their careers were ruined. It was a terrible time. I remember watching  at that time what were called "News Reels" at the movies about him.
He was a very influential man because for one thing he was a Senator from Wisconsin. He professed to have a list of card carrying Communists. Even the folks in the White House feared but also hated him. In later days it was discovered that he in fact had "lost" the so called list.
Because of our constitutional right of free speech he was allowed to speak in public forums which were also covered by the press. Before long there was a mass fear among our citizens both from the city and the rural areas albeit my folks.
He was finally defeated by not only alcoholism but by the good people of the our United States.

I was reminded of this horrible time not only today, Election Day for the Mid Term elections, but by the open way people now tell everyone how they vote. The days of McCarthyism is over thank goodness. We are once again free to voice our opinions because we live in a freedom of speech country. We may not always agree with the people that we hear make speeches, but we can say, that we do not agree with no recriminations like in the early 50's.
This is a fun picture of my parents in 1955. I actually was allowed to take this picture with Dad's Kodak Brownie camera. Cherokee, Iowa Bluff Street at my grandparent's house.

I'm Sad Today

She left us the other day. I miss her more than words can say.

She saved cards, and letters, knitting books and pictures.

She made beautiful sweaters and blankets and mittens and hats.

She made microwave cakes, and dolls, and of course, that's not all.

It was my job to choose what things she saved to give away.

It was my job to throw her candles away.

You see, she saved her candles.

The candles from each birthday cake.

That job today was most difficult for me.  Her house was sold,

 so regardless of how I felt, I needed to do it.

Today was a day I shan't soon forget.


I cried a lot today. I wasn't crying for

Marie. I was crying for me. I miss her so.

It will soon be time to smile and laugh, Marie would

 have it no other way.

Marie was seventeen when she had her first birthday

 party. That's all she told me. I have no one to ask about that party. I'm sure she

had a good time; music and laughter, no doubt, with her love of family and friends.

Speaking of time, it's time for me to say a final good-bye.

Yes, I'm very sad today.

Another "Melanie Question"

Once again I happened to read one of my daughter's daily questions on Facebook. This one said, "What was your favorite summer activity when you were a kid?"
Well, my life was pretty boring, let me tell you. We lived on a farm. My mother didn't drive. She baked for a local grocery store to help put my sister through nurses training. I read and played piano.
But I thought, I did do something that was fun when I was about 8 or 9. I looked at the comments that people had answered Melanie's question with and it went like this: swimming, swimming, swimming in the river. (I was one of the very first people to read her question.)  "Hmm," I thought, I had only gone swimming once in my life and didn't like it when I was a little girl. I can still "smell" the chlorine in the air at the pool in Holstein, Iowa.
So I decided to answer my daughter's question truthfully.
When I was young, yes, I was an avid reader. Along with the Little House On The Prairie books, I loved the Boxcar Children books. I had and have an avid imagination so I asked my mom if I could go hiking and take a lunch. She said, "sure." and packed my lunch in one of my dad's farmer hankies. It was really fancy; homemade bread and butter and a quart canning jar with water in it. If she sprinkled sugar on my bread and butter, I wouldn't be surprised. She did that a lot for an afternoon treat.

Cattails by the creek

Okay, I was "hoboing" it and off I would go. I walked  through Iowa prairie grass that followed a very shallow little creek that seldom had more than three or four inches of water in it. My life wasn't as exciting as the orphans, but to me it was as good as it got.
The first thing that I would do is to lay down in that tall grass and look up into the sky. I loved looking at the clouds and imagining shapes of animals etc. that they made. My sister, Rosie, taught me how to do that from our bedroom window.
A person has no idea how noisy a field of prairie grass is if you had not done as child as I did; just being still and listening. There were no airplanes, trucks, tractors, cars going fast down the highway. We lived about a quarter of a mile off of the highway. To an adult walking through the grass the air was only disturbed by birds chirping. Down on the ground I could hear crickets, grasshoppers, and the swishing of the grass itself in the breeze. There must have been a gazillion ants and beetles and who knows what, but I loved it! Would I do it now, no way.
When I tired of that I would eat my lunch and drink some of my water and catch tadpoles in my canning jar. I was fascinated with them. My mother was not. She was not happy with the condition of my grass stained dress either. No slacks for little girls in those days.

Melanie asks the questions I get to reminisce!

I did go "hiking" again once or twice, but it was not as fun because I had to worry about my dress getting stained.
I'm sitting here typing thinking, "It was too bad you didn't have a dog to go with you on your hikes, you might have enjoyed it more." We had off and on dogs. They were strays I think sometimes by their own choice. Another story someday.

You Say Too-mah-toe I Say Tomato.......

Yesterday things weren't all great in my life. My best friend had suffered a severe health condition which caused a lot of people great worry and made me cry. I don't cry very often. More often than not, I cry when I'm mad. Well that situation made me mad too, so I cried off and on most of the day.
To top my day off yesterday afternoon I almost stepped on a gecko. I am thinking that a bunch of his cronies and him had applied to Geico to audition for a part in their insurance advertising campaign. I am not scared of these little guys, but I was on the war path and he caught the brunt of my frustration. I called Fran and said, " I have a slithery thing that I almost stepped on and you had better get down here and get him out of here!" I had him trapped under a Kleenex box and was not going to move until he joined the Wonderful World Of Outside Where You Belong Club.

Not cute!

So Fran came down and picked up "the poor little feller" and said, "Why are you so upset, he doesn't bite, sting, or anything to hurt you?" Then he said, "You know, there are a lot of these out in the yard this year. Must be the weather."
Have you ever paid attention to the conversations concerning things that are out of the ordinary or difficult to explain. Folks tend to say, "Must be the weather." Awk!!

That's cute!

Geico Mascot

If you have watched the Geico commercials as long as I have, I much preferred the two squirrels that caused an accident and gave each other the high five in satisfaction. Squirrels do not slither. I hate "slithery" including geckos. So no matter how you say it, Geico or gecko do not bless me with your presence again, "poor little feller."

No Partridge, But It Was The 13th

My life is generally the same day after day. I am not superstitious so I was unaware that it was Friday the 13th yesterday. I only look at the calendar to make sure that I water Marie's Christmas Cactus every two weeks. I mark the dates of this task religiously. She warned me repeatedly that this must be done or it would surely die. Yes, it probably would.
We had her 103rd birthday party last Friday. I love baked beans and peach cobbler, so I had purchased gallon cans of each. When her brother and I attempted to open said cans, all she had was an electric opener. The job was not doable with an electric can opener. We needed the real deal! So I sent her grandson to our camper across the road to get us a manual opener.
 I had not cleaned her cupboard drawers. They were her cupboards and it is her home. But yesterday I thought she is unable to tell me to find her things that she needed anymore like she had always done so I decided to clean her cupboard drawers.
I filled an old plastic mixing bowl that needed a new home for the soapy water  I needed to wash out the drawers. Marie needed me so I left my task and was gone about 5 minutes. When I returned the kitchen floor was flooded. I thought, "What in the world!?" I thought for sure there was a plumbing problem. I quickly picked up that old bowl and emptied it in the sink. For some reason I held it up to the light. I circular crack all the way around the bottom of the bowl TWICE! How could that happen? The bowl found a new home alright, into a black trash bag. What a bother, now I had to scrub the floor with a whole big bunch of water. I let the floor dry.
When the floor was dry I resumed my three drawer job. Yes, folks, only three drawers. Top drawer was for silverware I presumed because it had a silverware holder in it. That was where I was always instructed to get the majority of her things that she wanted/needed. I knew that her straws were in there. Oh, such surprise finds did await me. There were a mutlitude of cheese slicers (6) and a many many things that I could not identify their use. They were all in their original plastic bags that they came in. The brand new inhabitants of Marie's silverware drawer were also accompanied by thank you notes. The notes were accompanied by Certificates of Achievement by many different charities. Marie believed in giving to children, the American Indians, to Disabled Veterans, and of course, the dreadful Publishers Clearing House. I say dreadful because the odds of winning the Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes is almost the exact same odds as winning the Powerball Lottery per Google.
The drawer and silverware holder are all spotless and now holding appropriate pieces of eating utensils.
The second drawer was off the track and took me approximately ten minutes to get that fixed. Remember what day it was. It held a variety of tools, and larger cooking utensils. I had in fact added to the disorder that drawer was in because she needed bowl covers. So there were several of those that I had thrown in disregard to order. That drawer is now all clean and sorted.
The third drawer was the most interesting to me. It held 2 can openers!! A turkey baster, which we needed for our turkey on Friday. It also held, a variety of packaged cooking additives that were long out of date. She is a lot like my husband. Buy new something or other because you probably don't have it at home. I know this because last week I cleaned our cupboard drawers. Oh, my.
You probably would have shook your heads if you would have heard me talking to myself saying, "I wonder where the partridge is at." Nope, never found one.
This morning when I was fixing Marie's breakfast I was at a loss. All the things that used to be on the counter for fixing her meals were now hidden away in her cupboard drawers. What a nuisance! I will have to get used to my orderliness that's for sure.

Charlie's Dog, Smokey

If you have been reading my blog on a regular basis, you will have found several posts about Charlie. He is my mother-in-law's brother. He was in the Navy for over twenty years. He and his wife, Nancy, and their children had the chance of a life time to experience life all over he world. Charlie, or Uncle Charlie, as a lot of his family call him was at our house to help celebrate his sister's 103rd birthday. He also got involved in repairing his sister's granddaughter's car. She lives in Texas and that is a long ways away without a running car 90+ degree heat, two small grandsons, plus the air went out on the way here.
 Most of the relatives had for the most part settled down for the evening. Charlie and Fran and I, however, were just sitting in the living room visiting. We hadn't seen him for three years. I love to listen to his stories. Once again, I messed up and did not record this story. He is a great story teller and uses hand gestures to  make the story even more fun.
This is Charlie's story, not mine. For the most part it will be in quotes just the way Charlie told it to us that hot evening in July 2018.
"Smokey was a dog we added to our family when we were stationed in Spain. He was a Wire Haired Terrier, the runt of the litter, but that's what the kids wanted so that was that.
Nan and I started teaching him easy tricks such as sit up, roll over, and turn around. Then we started to try more difficult tricks such as speak on command and progressed to counting by barking to hand signals and voice commands. Like 1 finger is one bark,  2 fingers is two barks etc. He could count to 3 and subtract from 3 to 1 at first with voice commands then to just hand commands.
Nan taught him to close doors because the kids would run into the house and fail to close the door. One day I came home from shopping and I had my arms full. I told Smokey to close the car door. Little did I know that our neighbor was in the front yard watching this. He (Smokey) jumped up and pushed the door but it did not close so I told Smokey to go back and close the door which he did. My neighbor came over and said that if he had not seen this with his own eyes that he would not have believed it. He said, "I wish I could train my children to do what he just did."
Smokey did not like to be penned up in the back yard and would dig his way out of the fenced back yard. I finally took two pickets off the fence at the bottom so that he had a way out. When I did that, he stayed in the back yard until one of us came home; then he would greet us in the FRONT yard. (I capitalized Front not Charlie. This story just amazed me.)
We were moving to Dallas from Austin and put the house up for sale and put it in a realtor's hand. We told the realtors to leave the dog in the back yard when they left the house. They put him in the back yard and proceeded to lock the house and put the key in their lock box on the door handle. She looked down and there was Smokey. She was sure that she had left him in the back yard, but she unlocked the door and went in the house. She opened the sliding door and put Smokey back in the back yard. She left the house, locked the door, put the key in the lock box and lo and behold there was Smokey! She proceeded to call me and swore that she had left him in the back yard. I told her that it was ok because he had his own key!
We used to play hide and seek with him and the kids would go hide. He would go find them. He sometimes would cheat by peeking to see where they were going. So I would have him cover his eyes with his paws til they were hidden. Then I would tell him to go find them. He would always go to the last place he found them and then would search the rest of the house and as always found them all.
All of the things that we taught him were done without treats after each trick. He would do them for anyone as long as they spoke clearly.
He loved to play games that the kids played and tried to do everything that they did. We lived across from a playground and there was a slide that the kids were using. He would climb the slide ladder and slide down with them just like it was a natural thing that dogs did.
When it was bedtime, the family would say prayers before going to bed. We taught Smokey to lay his head in my lap and cover his eyes while we prayed. Every once in a while he would uncover his eyes to see what was going on and I would scold him and tell him to pray. He would cover his eyes until we were done."
In his email he said at the end " to be continued."

Charles and Nancy Aubin

I can't wait to hear the rest of the story again. Hopefully Charlie will send pictures of Smokey with his family.
I hope you enjoyed this story as much as Fran and I did. I shared it to Marie's Memories also.

S.A.M.A. (Stockton Area Ministerial Alliance)

This little thrift shop is not so little. It has long arms that stretch to the big city of Springfield about 50 miles or better away from our little town. Our area citizens donate and buy from here to help our needy people and to help themselves.
Our citizens in our small county are for the most part kind and generous to each other. Because of this many of our seniors and folks that need a hand are always welcome here.
 Fran and I shop at this little thrift shop frequently. We also donate to them whenever we have nice things, but don't fit! Hmm seems to be a problem of continuing to grow out of our clothes? We also donate household things that we don't need anymore. We just don't have parties, or company of groups of four to twenty- four for the most part anymore. I think that is the sad part of growing old. Outliving your most wonderful friends, family living far away, and  not able to drive to see them unless it's daytime, or the trip is divided into short hourly parts for us anyway.
My mother-in-law needed many things as her health deteriorated. She needed tops that could be made into a hospital gown type opening. She is a girl and I thought that she "needed" girly stuff to decorated her home and tables. I needed clothing that not only fit, but was easy to wear to take care of her and her needs.
One day I told my husband that I must be getting shorter. He asked why I thought that. My answer was "I have to stand on my tip toes to reach a coffee cup. The cupboard is almost always empty of cups in the front so I have to reach clear to the back to get myself a coffee cup."
My youngest son at times comes over for coffee and I have a feeling some of my cups may be in his shop. We also have a fifth wheel camper that we use for guests. I searched out there and there were not many cups in that cupboard either. You guessed it; Marie's house was short of cups also. We have a missing coffee mug mystery! (Not unlike missing socks in the laundry.)
So to the S.A.M.A. Thrift shop we go. I bought a dozen coffee mugs. I need tall mugs with wide handles so that my hand shaking doesn't lend to me spilling my coffee. They were a quarter a piece. I even bought Marie a cute Happy Birthday mug to help her celebrate her 103rd birthday.
So last night I again had to reach for a coffee cup. I said so very sweetly loudly, "Fran, where in the world are my coffee cups I bought? I can't find but two or three in the cupboard. Are they all in the dishwasher? (It was running.) Fran replied, "No they are out there." And that was the end of the answer. Well, I dug in my heels and said, "Where out there, I want a cup of coffee!" (Voice a bit raised.) The answer I got was an index finger pointing to the kitchen because he was watching TV.

I tromped out to the kitchen followed by Fran thinking I might be a bit P.O.'d. There they all were because he said he didn't know where I wanted them; sitting on a shelf above the microwave. Mercy!
I love my new cups that are now resting nicely in my kitchen cupboard.
I also love that Marie has new cups and now the camper has way too many cups. Just can't please me. Seems like I've heard that somewhere before.

Uncle Charlie Sees "Project Rhonda" Through To The End

Marie with Rhonda and her 2 great greats

Some of you may know that years ago I repaired appliances for Sears. I had my own truck, toolbox, and backup in my tons of manuals! What I did not have was confidence in my ability from not only my colleagues (men) and many of my customers. I was good at my job. What I did not repair was automobiles. I knew that they had a motor, needed gas and oil and occasionally a tune up. So when Rhonda and Brian's car broke down I did not have a clue what the part was that had given up the ghost; a harmonic balancer or something like that. I looked up the part on Google and this is what it looked like to them. It was good enough for me to understand that it had nothing to do with music. I really thought it would be spelling Philharmonic like in orchestras. Anyway this is a picture that would be similar to the part whose bolt flew out onto the parking lot.

Rhonda was trying to explain to me that she was driving back to the motel via the grocery store when she heard a wap wap tap tap sound. I know, you had to be here. She was not happy but did go into the store and was so upset she forgot half of what she needed. When she started the car again she portrayed a sound of a metal spoon whacking a drinking glass (ping!) At that time she actually saw a 3-4" bolt fly out of her car onto the parking lot. She got out or Brian did and got the bolt and actually drove the car a few blocks back to the motel and backed it in so that the motor would be accessible for her dad to help inspect it to find the problem other than the obvious.
The power steering had quit so she had to manhandle it, the alternator belt had jumped off, therefore, all the guages had lit up ultimately saying, "I am not working!!!" When they opened up the hood the pulley was actually sitting on the frame. It was a definite save!
This story could go on for pages, however, it was an ultimate "fixed it" so that Rhonda and her family did arrive back home last night safe and sound. What a relief not only to us, but to Rhonda's whole family. 
And, Uncle Charlie with his helpful supervision and ideas was able to be there for the turn of the key to a smooth running automobile. 
The fun part of this story if there is one, is that Rhonda's husband, Brian, and Fran, Rhonda's dad, worked as a team fixing Brian's car 32 years ago, even before Brian had married his daughter.
I wanted to tell this story because page after page of this long story could have been told in one word: FAMILY

Marie 103 to youngest 5 years old= family

Charlie Gets Involved in " Project Rhonda"

This story actually began in the late fall of 2017. I was in a discount store and discovered that they had four remaining box fans on clearance for $8.00. I just could not pass up that good deal; no matter I did not need a box fan.

Okay, I have now given you a bit of trivia you are all wondering what does that have to do with Uncle Charlie?

About nine o'clock in the evening the night before Marie's birthday, the phone rang; it was Rhonda. Why would she be calling if there was not trouble. I immediately asked her if everything was okay. She said, quietly, "I need a mechanic. We all knew that her air conditioner had gone out on the way up here so me, being naive thought it was the problem. Not the problem. She again said quietly, "I need to talk to Dad." When she was telling me the story after the fact, she said she kept remembering a sign she had seen in Branson at the Toy Museum. It said, "If it's broke, call Dad open twenty four hours.

The problem was extensive too extensive for me to comprehend. Her dad seemed to understand what she was saying. He called my son. He and Fran went to the motel where Rhonda and her family were staying.  My son called mechanics that he knew and also a garage that took one look at it and I'm two weeks out and I would have to order parts and besides that, I am not going to touch it. It seemed that no one in our small county would work on it. Her family was 751 miles from home! Rhonda's dad and my son had put her car on Fran's big trailer, so they brought it home and backed it into our carport.
 Enter Uncle Charlie. I thought I kept hearing him say Gorilla Glue, but just shook it off and went about my business.
When I came home from Marie's house there was the biggest mess I ever saw. I wanted to take a picture, but I didn't want to make Rhonda mad. I found out she was disappointed that I didn't. There were two box fans, Aha, my box fan that I did not need, paper towels, tools, and a myriad of car parts on the floor of the carport. At one point her Uncle Roger, Uncle Charlie, cousin Chuck, brother Joe, my son, her father, and of course her husband Brian were all entering into the project with a variety of opinions. They were working into the early evening and Fran just quit. He said, "I can't see in the dark, I've had a Crown or three, it's hot, and I'm done." Uncle Charlie came in the house and said, "I think I'll have a few fingers of your Crown now." Again I could have sworn I heard him say something about Gorilla Glue added with a chuckle.
Fran told Rhonda to take his pickup and take her family to the motel; everything would be fine the next day.
Charlie and I were having coffee on Marie's deck yesterday morning at 7:00 and Fran comes up the sidewalk and said, "Charlie, you and I are going for a ride." He looked at me with a look that said, "Don't ask," so I didn't.
Family was starting to leave and Rhonda was anxious to say the least.
Oh, but wait, I haven't told you what was wrong with the car and how the whole mess started out complete with sound effects
. Part 3 tomorrow if I can. I promise I will finish the story, but my time is not always my own. This was a 2 1/2 day project, so my story is rather lengthy, but fun.

Charlie, Minus Five Hours

Charles Aubin is my mother-in-law's 86 year old brother. Charlie or Uncle Charlie as most call him, is handsome, white haired, story telling, skier, hunter, good humored, and easy going, but most of all a friend to most.

He literally came tripping in the front door the day before Marie's birthday and said, "Hey, did you miss me?" He gave me a warm hug and said, "Thank you so much for taking care of my sister. I know with a certainty that you will go to Heaven for being so caring and kind." 

The first afternoon

I returned with a quip, "I'm sure I am paying for all of my past sins." Everyone that had arrived before Charles laughed with a certainty that I was probably telling the truth. After a variety of back slapping, hugging and asking by name how each one of Marie's/his family members were, he went in to see Marie. She was unable to speak and did not give any sign that she recognized him. He tried and did all of the right tricks to no avail. He said, "That's ok, I'll try again after while." And now as Paul Harvey used to say on his radio show, "Here is the rest of the story."

Orion and Jesse

He immediately asked me if there was anything that he could do to help me. I said, "Yes, you talk to your family they are on the porch listening to Marie's grandson, Chuck, play guitar and sing." He grabbed a bottle of water and out he went to a welcoming group of family and there I thought he would stay.

Within the hour he came in and said again, "What can I do to help?" I again told him that I had it covered because we were just having hamburgers on the grill and chips etc. He accepted that and went back to his family.
Grandchildren and great grandchildren and finally Rhonda and her husband Brian arrived with Marie's two great great grandsons.
They had taken this week as a vacation week and meandered towards our house at a leisurely pace because it was a vacation. They had fun at the lake and got nice and sunburned! The main subject they conveyed was that their car air conditioner quit on the way here. I couldn't imagine being without air with two little boys and 90+ degree temperature. We had a great time. I went home because I was going to get up really early the next morning to start a turkey to add to the brisket that Marie's son, Roger was going to start on the smoker at midnight. This birthday was a big deal.
Later in the evening Rhonda called and said that their car had completely broke down and needed a mechanic. That will be part 2 of this post.
The next morning Fran accused me of waking the dead just because I dropped a great big roaster on the floor. I didn't wake the dead, but poor Charlie stumbled out of his room wanting to know if everything was okay. I assured him it was and was so sorry for waking him, but since he was awake.........

Charles Aubin

The poor man did dishes 7 times while I was baking and cooking. He stirred, he tasted, he added, he let me know if "it" needed something. He floured my bread board, he empties bag after bag of garbage. He fixed extension cords, he found serving spoons I didn't know existed at Marie's house. While doing all these things for me, he visited with Marie, he laughed with his nephews, and Marie's great grandchildren as well as her great greats. He enjoyed and knew a little bit about all of his sister's family. It was amazing for me to watch. He was constantly on the move going from group to group, eating and laughing and reminiscing about everything you could imagine. In most of these activities he had a-fixed to his hand a constant cup of hot tea. He packs tea bags in his duffel bag probably knowing I don't drink the stuff!
 I have made an executive decision and have decided that I am going to write a couple more posts about him on Lu's Place. He was a part of my life this weekend that I shall not soon forget. He even taught me how to pack and repack a small refrigerator to fit the proverbial ten pounds of stuff into a five pound bag ie. refrigerator.
I was snoring away last night while he was out on our patio with his extended family listening to Chuck Boudreau play guitar and sing as well as the beautiful "canary" sing which is Chuck's daughter, Emily.
 His eyes were sparkling when he said this morning, "did you hear the music last night?" He knew darn well I was sound asleep.
I am now looking at the clock realizing that Charlie's plane landed only a few hours ago in Texas. Marie's house is silent, but oh how the memories of Charles Aubin ring loud and true, never to be forgotten by this lady this evening.
Soon I will be posting about Charlie's part in
Project Rhonda and Brian's Car Dilemma!

I Can Pencil You In At 2:00 P.M.

Marie using her Mom hand!

In November of 2017 I started a Facebook closed group to keep my mother-in-law's family informed of her health status. At one point she was very ill. My husband and I decided to share her huge accumulation of photos and memorabilia with her family on both sides; maiden and married. The three days of taking photos of photos of  her family and posting them I learned so much about them I actually felt like I knew more about his mom's family that she was born into than my husband did. What a legacy they left for future generations!
During this process I became Facebook friends with many of Marie's nieces and nephews. I also became aware of birthdays, anniversaries, and illnesses, births, and one death that I remember. I learned about their families, hobbies, sense of humors, and fur babies. I learned to love some of these folks that I had never even seen pictures of. Many folks use pictures of pets, cartoons, silhouettes or hobbies as profile pictures.
I knew some of Marie's grandchildren, but not well. I also knew some of her greats and great great grandchildren. Most of her grands, greats, and great greats live far away so getting to actually know them is not feasible.
This information is a lead in to what my nature is. I am a worrier. I have mentioned this before. If Marie gets sick, I worry. If my grandchildren get hurt or sick I worry. This trait skipped a generation to my maternal grandmother. She was the family worrier.
Well, one of Marie's nieces had an operation that went south. I worried. She had to have another operation to fix the first operation. I really worried. I like her. She has a sense of humor that just fits into my style; love it.
This is what I said to her the other day: "Should I worry about you? I have a couple of hours free this afternoon that I could do that for you." She didn't answer me directly, but I think I could hear her smile at me.

100 Years 100 degrees

Isn't worrying actually another word for caring? I care very much for my extended family. Marie's family love her as do I. Marie loves them very much. Therefore, since I am a member albeit by marriage, I can pencil people into my "worry schedule" as I wish.
Hopefully we will be celebrating Marie's 103rd birthday in a few days. I will have another opportunity to get to know more about some of her family. That will make my "worry" schedule with more folks to schedule.

My Order Of Operations!

I am seventy-four years old and fairly  very set in my ways.  When I was in school many many many okay enough years ago. I did fairly well in school. I got mostly A's and B's except in Math. I had to work for my grades in Math. It goes clear back to fourth grade in my memory. My poor teacher, Mrs. Fransisco, had the privilege of attempting to teach me long division. Of course, my mother always went to parent/teacher conferences. She told my teacher I almost committed Harakiri. I spell it Harry Carry when I got a C in Math that quarter.
Ok, I keep drifting away from the subject. I'm trying to confess my school day sins. I could easily memorize things for tests. I crammed the night before the test and Aced it the next day. And easily forgotten never to be thought of again.  Not happening with long division. It just did not compute. When Mom got home from the conference we had a chat. Oh, how I hated that word when it had to do with a quiet visit with my mother. She informed me that every day she would help me with my homework. I also was informed that my C would improve to at least a B because of my doing my homework and not playing piano etc. etc. She was very nice, but I knew she meant business. It was not about just my grade. She wanted me to understand what I was being taught, not just a "get it done" attitude which I may have had. She got the job done and I indeed understood what my teacher was saying. I now, years later can do and understand long division.
Along comes Facebook sixty plus years later with their silly little "tests" people enjoy taking. Oh, oh, I saw one that I knew the answer to, I was so proud. However, since I am seventy-four I read the comments before I put my comments down. What?? I did not understand why my "correct" answer did not match most of them. I read and reread the test and then I asked my husband what he thought the answer was. He agreed with me. Hmm, I still did not want to commit to stating my answer to the test. So, being logical, I sent the test to my daughter. I said, Why is the answer xxx according to many folks that took the test. She said that is correct. It is called the Order of Operations. Well, I"m sorry, I don't care if she has a PHD, I was not satisfied with her answer, and neither was Fran.
Google, being my right hand man explained to me in many different ways that my daughter and most of the people that took the test was correct.
You need to go to the beginning of this post and let my fourth grade C in long division sink in. Oops, I let my freshman Algebra get in my brain long enough to pass the test and promptly forgot it. Fran didn't take Algebra so at least he and I were on the same playing field. I still think if the Facebook test would have used parenthesis I would have come up with the correct answer. Oh well, like I always used to say, "When will I ever use this stupid subject?" Enter Facebook stage right sixty years later.

Miss Fransisco my favorite teacher!

I Was A Young Mom And Didn't Think

You know people joke about doctors practicing medicine. When you hear that most generally they aren't smiling. They are being sarcastic and say something to the effect that "I don't want them practicing on me." Well, I think that being a young mom is essentially the same thing. There are no manuals. Plus, you get advice on "how to do everything from A to Z. You get advice from your family and friends and no advice from your husband because he doesn't have a clue. I don't feel that I was any different in many ways. It was trial and error. I had had one child when the "accident" happened and had not had any major problems.

He was two!

We were replacing the furnace in our great big house. It was September in South Dakota which meant you needed a bit of heat to keep the chill out. I had a two year old daughter and a ten month old son. The furnace installation had been delayed for more than one reason and then another. I needed the kitchen to be warm for my crawling baby. He was a busy baby, but I was right beside him when in a flash he grabbed the hot bake element. Needless to say his father and every other person in the world it seemed was furious with me. No one ever said anything mean to me, however, they did question how in the world such a thing could happen. No one could say anything worse to me than what I was saying to myself.
Once at the hospital an E.R. nurse grabbed a harsh hospital wash cloth and started washing his hand. I screamed at her and yelled "get him a lollipop!"
She looked at me like I had lost my mind, but did just that; he quieted. I understood what she was attempting to do, but I couldn't stand his screaming in pain. In my eyes she was increasing his agony.

Joe has a cool laugh

My baby boy did not drink from a bottle. He had thrown that away some weeks before. In those days there weren't pacifiers abundantly popular like there are now. I tried giving him a bottle again, but he threw it in anger. It just seemed like there was nothing I could do to comfort him. He would not be soothed with anything but a very soft cloth that was very cold against his bandages. Thank you God for the rocking chair. His dad bought a big box of what they called in those days "dum dum suckers." I just realized that they still sell them by the bag. Those seemed to keep him busy and occupied from the pain.
The doctor told me what creams to use and what exercises to do with that poor little hand. As he got older the scars were more faint. However, when I last saw him I noticed the scars of my careless act were still very apparent on his hand.
Isn't it astounding that in one split second his whole life was changed. He had grabbed the bake element with his right hand. He was forever more left handed.
 Hopefully, my boy may read this and once again hear my apology.

The Miserable Life of Lu's Refrigerator

I was originally a beautiful black refrigerator. I was sitting on the Sears showroom floor beautifully polished and proud of my finish and working mechanisms. I was not a cheap floor model, I was something to have and behold in your home.
 Then it happened; I was sold to LuAnne and carted off to a home that has no pride in my surface. The first thing that happened is that LuAnne got sick and fell face first and dented my front. I felt sorry for her, but my goodness a dent? I was only a month or two old. Her glasses got the brunt of the damage. She had a headache for several days. Concussion was a word used a lot in those days.
The dent was going to be the least of my problems it seemed. In those first days LuAnne's son visited a lot. He was always opening and closing my doors looking for stuff to eat. Then he had the audacity to put beer in me. The worst thing about it was that LuAnne's husband didn't care! He kept offering beer to Mike. That meant opening and closing my big door. Then the ice cube maker decided to go crazy and made too many ice cubes. I got blamed for that! How could it possibly be my fault that the ice cube maker decided to go hay wire?
Mrs. LuAnne has a penchant for pictures; little pictures. She also loves magnets, and do-dads. One day I was horrified to see her just putting all kinds of grandkids pictures, friend's pictures, her pictures, her husband's picture, emergency numbers and even a picture frame her niece had given her. She at least polished my surface before she put all that stuff on my front. Don't forget to look at my top: freezer bags, apple peeler, foil, coozies, paper plates, the list goes on and on.
One day her cleaning lady came and started cleaning out my insides. She and Mrs. LuAnne talked about me the whole time like I had no feelings whatsoever.
They talked about how it was impossible for me to keep things from spoiling because I just wasn't big enough, didn't have enough crisper controls, didn't have big enough space in the door. I'm telling you what, I was wounded. But the day that Mrs. LuAnne started putting potholders and chip clips on me I felt just mortified. The days of being prideful are gone. Oh, how I miss the showroom. I was so beautiful. Just think it was only four years ago, what a way to live my life. Oh, you think I am spoiled? You should see the fingerprints that people leave on me. Oh! I could tell you stories that you just wouldn't believe.

LuAnne and her husband are having company soon. They need to clean me out so that I can perform at my highest efficiency. I wonder when that will happen. I'll tell you when. The day that they quit complaining about my color, the day that Grandma Lu quits putting graduation pictures on me. Don't forget the sunflower thermometer! It is never going to happen. Remember when you buy a beautiful refrigerator like me to be kind and gentle with it. I wonder if there is a support group for abused "fridges." There should be a law!!

Question Of The Day By My Daughter

Recently my daughter started something interesting on Facebook. She asks a fairly generic question most days. I'm always interested to see what her FB friends will have for answers. One day she asked what their favorite kitchen utensil was. I answered, "My husband!" I'm not sure if she wants humor, honesty, or something entirely interesting and not general. Well, most folks that know me, know that I have a tendency to inflect my humor into things like this.
Today's question was, "What was the greatest life lesson given to you by a family member and who." I immediately knew exactly what the lesson was and who.
When I first started taking care of Marie her mobile home

living room had a hospital bed, sofa, chair, dining room table and chairs. The television faced her chair. The sofa faced the hospital bed. Are you getting the picture? No where for me to sit and watch television! No where for me to be a companion to Marie. There has always been a wooden rocking chair that sat to one side of her electric organ. It had an afghan that she had crocheted on it. No one ever sat on it. I never gave it a thought.
I think that it was on the third day of not having anywhere to sit that I dragged the rocking chair over by her and sat down so we could watch television together. Oh, my gosh, all kinds of screaming and carrying on started happening!
Exact quotes were, "No, no, no! That's my grandfather's chair. No one can sit in that chair!"
That's when I knew that my rocking chair and footstool from the camper were coming to live at Marie's house. I would have some place to sit. Of course, I immediately put the rocking chair in the corner where no one could sit on it and informed my husband of the move.

Marie Rose Lizotte

One day when Marie was in bed I took that chair out and found a manufacturing sticker on the bottom of it. Well, I called the company. The chair was not her grandfather's chair. It may have been her father's or her husband's. The company had not been established in her grandfather's time frame. So the lesson that I learned was from my dear almost 103 year old mother-in-law. The lesson was never, ever sit on a chair that is empty unless someone invites you to have a seat that lives in that home.
Mercy on us that was a very "loud" lesson. My daughter didn't ask about a "Loud Lesson" (smiles)

I Would Like A Softly Padded Soap Box, Please

Every day Marie and I used to watch the Hallmark Channel. The show in the afternoon that she loved, Dr. Quinn M.D. is still on the air, but she is not able to stay up to watch it anymore. I would often change the channel for her to Seventh Heaven and Touched By An Angel. Those shows came on before her "doctor show."
I do not make my opinions known very often except to my poor husband. He is my sounding board. When I need to vent no matter how hard he tries to hide, I find him and do my thing;  get on my soap box!
Today I am going to get on a softly padded soap box. I had this wonderful idea. When I say "Fran, I have this cool idea," he literally disappears. For a big man his disappearing act is so smooth. I don't even know where he goes to hide. Unbelievable.
Okay, my idea is cool. Not just for Christians. I thought, "Wow, what if big corporations had Touched By An Angel or 7th Heaven break for their employees. They could only watch fifteen minutes at a time. See where I"m going with this? Efficiency that's where! I would work myself  into a dither so I could get to my break to finish the segment.
Oh, I know that there would be naysayers, but just think of the possibilities. There could be incentives for those that watched during their breaks. Possibly less hate for others, more empathy and sympathy for coworkers and neighbors. Maybe even lower gas prices. You just have to look at the big big pictures, folks.
My little idea could go across the ocean to include big oil companies.

Snake Oil salesman on his soap box

I hate the thought that Hallmark cancelled these shows because of low Neilson Ratings. I also hate to think that folks of any age wouldn't love these shows. I do and  because if them I am more efficient at Marie's house. I hurry to get my work done so I have time to watch the end of the story. Paul Harvey used to say, "and here is the rest of the story," I say Hallmark continue on with all of those stories. Oh, how we need to hear them and learn from them.
Okay, I just stepped off my little soap box. I just needed to say my piece after watching the news.

Marie, Egg Yolks, and Google

I have been taking care of my mother-in-law for about seven months. In those seven months there is one thing she does that drives me nuts! She has bacon and eggs plus other things for her breakfast every day. She has always had the same breakfast since I have known her.

Gotta grin!

When she finishes her breakfast she puts her coffee cup, or her sauce dish, and/or any other dish that seems to irritate her onto her empty plate. The thing is that her plate is not really empty. Her plate is covered from side to side with egg yolk.  I have asked her not to do that, but I guess it is a habit she formed long before I ever entered the picture. Marie likes her place mat to be empty except for her plate. I think that she is showing me that she is finished and that I should clear her dishes. I can be sitting right next to her and she will do the same exact same thing so fast that I can't catch her. Oh, my husband laughs. He'll say, "there she goes!" Once again, too late.
 I have often told him that someone along the way should have invented some kind of glue made from egg yolks, because if you don't wash a" egg yolkie" plate, fork, and cup it is there to stay unless soaked in hot sudsy water.
This morning I decided to see what Google had to say about uses for egg yolks other than in a hundred dozen recipes for custards, mayo, cakes, cookies, meat loaf, meatballs, etc. etc. etc. This was prompted by Marie, once again, putting her cups and sauce dish on to the "yolkie" plate.
You would just be amazed! I was not the first to realize the potential for this high protein food that the world's population consumes by the truck load every day.
You can use it to make your hair shine, your dog's fur shine. You can use it on your skin to make it nice and soft. You can even use it to make low grade silver jewelry shine. Egg yolks ARE used for craft glue. Aha! Boil eggs and save the water and water your plants with it. They said some first aide uses
with the membrane from boiled eggs, nah too much trouble; a Bandaid, thank you. You can clean leather ie, shoes, chairs, and purses. Nope, I will not do that either.
What I will do, is to continue to wash Marie's "egg yolkie" dishes and grin. She's not going to change, and really, who wants her to?

It Was 1972....

In 1972 The Vietnam War was raging. I was a mother of a four year old daughter and a two year old son. Our family of four was a small family that lived in a small town. My husband's large family was raised in this small town. Some of his brothers and one sister still lived there. We had lots of fun with them. I remember one day an elderly gentleman came to my door and asked, "Does this young man belong to you? I figured he did because he had red hair and he is a Grafing." That's how small the town was. The townsfolk also knew how busy he was.
In 1972 long distance was expensive. Folks on the low end of the salary ladder like us didn't use it unless it was necessary. We didn't just chat we had a purpose ie., "Hi mom, I need some help with my buttonholes." Go ahead and laugh, but in those days, when you made a coat, the buttonholes had to be "bound button holes" or some people call them French buttonholes. The reason that they "had" to be bound buttonholes is because they made the coats look very expensive. The last thing you wanted people to think was that your clothing looked"homemade".
My friends and family knew that I sewed. Other family members sewed also for themselves and/or their children. I used up the scraps of material from my clothes to make my kids clothing. It was fun. Of course, my husband was pleased that his children had nice clothing, and not hand-me-downs. He would not let me buy yard sale clothing because he had had  nothing but used clothing when he was a child and that "was not going to happen to my kids!"
The day I called Mom for help she was very nice. I think it pleased her to be able to help me. We lived about 2-3 hours apart. The more she talked, the more confused I got. The coats for Melanie and I were for Easter and I wanted them to be as perfect as I could get them. Finally I think Mom knew that telling me on the phone wasn't cutting it. She said, "I tell you what, I'll make one and send it to you. You can look at it, tear it apart if you need to. I will also send you the directions. It will be much easier if you can read and see the finished product at the same time." Little did she know.
Today, I turned to YouTube and watched a video with a lady showing us how to make bound buttonholes. She took her time. The video was 7 minutes long. Just watching the video made me antsy. Listening to my mother forty-eight years ago made me extremely antsy. I made those buttonholes and they looked pretty good. I wore the coat gingerly that Easter Sunday, fearful that there may be a wardrobe malfunction. There was none that showed.

 The elderly people at church told Melanie how pretty she looked in her pretty yellow coat with matching dress. Someone had given her a piece of candy and she had gotten sticky fingers. I reached in my coat pocket to get a tissue and discovered that I had forgotten to sew the pocket in my coat completely together. I wonder where those tissues went that I had put in there before we left. (Not a joke!)

Our No-Pay Renters Cry "Fowl!"

Yes, we are not known for our lenient rules and working indoor plumbing. Utilities are free, however, and the accommodations are spacious. The home interior decorating is done for the tenants before they move in and they don't have to sign a lease. We do occasionally, evict our tenants without notice. This rumor/fact has spread throughout the county. The future tenants know the facts, but they continue to move in without a care to their future living arrangements.
Our tenants generally choose the apartments that contain flowers and lots of leaves. That happens because we do not provide built in blinds on our rental windows.

fifty cent rental

It seems during the spring and summer months we have a lot of trouble with ongoing vandalism. We also experience tenants that have no couth probably due to the poor parenting that they experienced when they were young.
We also rent to all breeds, sizes and colors. All that we ask is that they make their
homes in the TREES!!
This morning a bird flew into my artificial basket of flowers that I paid fifty cents for several years ago with a feather in his beak. The basket started rocking back and forth. Yes, they have no care where or when they start remodeling our rentals. Oh, Fran laughed. There is another family in my birthday basket of begonias. There is a family of starlings in my artificial ferns in the patio at home. They have no class whatsoever!!
Marie loves that basket of flowers that I bought and will laugh when I tell her that my basket is going to be the home for probably a gazillion birds.
Our deadbeat renters will probably contact the Audubon Society for protection and better housing. Let us hope!