Penny Sanford Porcelains

I still wonder what was in those tunnels

Found some more pictures and papers from Unc's time in the U.S. Army in Occupied Japan.

This first picture is supposed to show the widespread damage in Nagoya..a bit hard to see in this faded old black and white picture.

Unc has talked a lot over the years about how few structures remained that were intact or were not in danger of falling down at the time of the U.S. Occupation of Japan.

Nagoya was apparently hit with lots of "regular" bombs...no atom bombs and not incendiary bombs. I have not had time to research that, and I am curious.

The place where Unc was assigned to work was in an old Mitsubishi Airplane Plant where the Japanese made Zero's. From what I read on the Internet, the Nagoya Mitsubishi Zero plants were referred to as "Airframe" plants, which would suggest that just the frame of the zero was made there, not the engine...but I may be wrong.

Unc said the plant had been cleaned out before he and other U.S. Army personnel set up in the building to repair guns. There were no spare parts or unfinished planes or equipment lying around in the building.

This was an interesting and well researched website about the production of the various versions of Japanese Zero airplanes in Nagoya.

The article refers to production in the third Mitsubishi plant in Nagoya, but I have no idea which plant is depicted in the photograph from Unc's box of memorabilia.

I'm also remembering from a History Channel program that toward the end of the war, the citizens of Japan dug up the roots of pine (?) trees to distill into fuel for the airplanes. I forget how many thousands of trees were required to fill the tank of one of the fighter airplanes. Amazing determination of the rank-and-file citizen of Japan to help win the war.

One passing comment from Unc's reminis -cences this time made my hair stand on end.

Apparently there were under -ground shelters or tunnels or spaces under the Mitsubishi Airframe Plant where Unc and others worked.

Unc tells some fun tales of sounds heard from underneath the plant, but he was not aware if any US Army personnel had ever checked out the tunnels.

HUH?  I think I would have been asking about that...like...every day!  And remember that U.S. Army personnel were not allowed to carry guns in Occupied Japan!

Unc did tell of an anti-aircraft gun being discovered under a rice drying rack near their barracks well after the Japanese surrender.

Uh, after that live gun discovery, I think I would have been back at the headquarters strongly suggesting a thorough check of those underground spaces at the Mitsubishi Plant!

Ha! Something tells me the Army would not have appreciated the overactive imagination of a pushy broad!

Unc was assigned to the 359th Ordnance Maintenance Company. He could repair anti-aircraft guns and big mounted machine guns. I'll have to come back and put in the correct calibers. The letterhead of his second promotion calls it the 72d Ordnance Group...so maybe they moved him around?

During basic training, Unc tested with an IQ of 149, and the powers that be tried to get him to go into officer training. He respectfully declined.

Then he was shooting so well that a wise old Sargent quietly explained to him that the Army was needing snipers and that snipers had a life expectancy of...a very very short time. Ya know, Unc's target accuracy decidedly declined after that?

Unc wanted to do his duty, and he wanted to serve his country, but he wanted to come home and be a farmer, carrying on the family tradition. I think he lived up to his IQ tests.

He kinda morphed into being an acting supply person without the rank. He was scheduled to come back home about the time the job opened up, so he filled the position and trained the new guy without getting the promotion.

I guess that is why a gun mechanic has paperwork dealing with laundry. He has quite a few stories about signing out a truck and a driver and what they encountered on their way to and from some task. 

Unc also laughs about the little Japanese kids trying to confuse the GI's who delivered big bags of laundry to the authorized Japanese Laundries. The kids would count in Japanese, but out of order, while the poor GI was trying to keep the number of bags straight.

Unc quickly learned to count in Japanese so that the cute little tykes could not confuse him. He said they would just laugh and giggle when they discovered he could count in Japanese. I wonder if much of their laughter was because of his pronunciation with a Southern accent?.

It pleases and amazes me that the Japanese children instinctively knew they could tease and would not be harmed by the GI's.

I think our soldiers around the world find basically the same reaction from the kids in the exotic countries in which our soldiers are stationed.

It did fascinate me to see his promotion orders in his box of memories. The paper on which all of these routine tasks were printed is very thin...all that was available at the time and in that location.

If by some miracle, you know any of the people listed on these old Army documents, please let me know. I'm sure Unc would be thrilled to hear how their life turned out.

The last document was maybe someone's guide to learning Japanese? Unc does not now remember why he has it or what it meant.

If you can translate, it would greatly please an 82 year old veteran of World War II. (You can click on a picture to make it larger.)

All of this has greater meaning to me because Gordon and I are hoping to hear from the soldier we adopted through Soldiers Angels. Getting to know him as a person will put a face on this war for us.

You may have already read that we have not had any active duty soldiers in our close family since Korea.

These stained and creased papers that Unc has saved all these years made him choke up while sharing some of his memories.

I'm trying to get my mind around how Unc's experiences in the Army changed his life and impacted the decisions he would make after the Army.

Something similar may be going on with the soldier to whom we are sending letters and care packages in...that place that has a lot of sand.

I enjoyed hearing from you after the previous post on this topic, both in the comments and via email.

A Personal Perspective on Memorial Day

Korea was the last war that called on any of my immediate family members. My uncle on my mother's side of the family was re-called to active service for Korea. Army. 

In World War II, two uncles on my mother's side of the family (both of her brothers), and three uncles on my father's side of the family served.

D-Day, the Battle of the Bulge, and the Occupation of Japan were the world-changing events in which my relatives played a one-man role.

I came late to a family with many child-less couples, so no relative I personally knew served in the Vietnam War, the Cold War, Grenada and any of the military actions during the Reagan years, or the Liberation of Kuwait (the First Gulf War).

A cousin spent time in Iraq as a psychologist during this Second Gulf War. Gordon has a cousin who was a Navy Seal in Afghanistan.

But before Korea and WWII, there was hardly a war or military action that did not have representatives of our family. The more genealogy we research, the more veterans we discover.

I am immensely proud of that.

Gordon has just as many, if not more veterans in his family lines. I'm still learning about them as Gordon shares his genealogy research with me.

For the most part, The Lord has seen fit to protect the men of our family in war and bring them back home. 

My grandfather Clyde Hamer almost died from the Influenza Pandemic in WWI. He and others in his group fought the deadly virus by burrowing down in the hay in a barn in France to stay warm.  A French farm woman gave him kerosene.. for medicine. It was the only available medicine.

The War Between the States saw almost all the men of age in all my family lines go to war.

In one of Gordon's lines, his Great-great-great grandfather William Henderson Fikes, signed up at age 56 to fight for the Confederacy, along with his two sons from the Buckley's Store Community, Lauderdale County, Mississippi.

Can you imagine signing up to go to war at the age of 56?  That tough ole fella served for half a year before a hernia forced him to go home with an honorable medical discharge. Amazing determination.

In the War of 1812, our ancestor Durham Kelly signed up in Tennessee to fight with Andrew Jackson against the British. He was paid $8 per month, and his horse was paid $12 per month!  Durham Kelly fought with Ole Hickory all the way to New Orleans and the end of the war.

We have chuckled for years that the horse was more valuable than the ancestor.

In America's War for Independence from England, the American Revolution, we have found some 20 ancestors who fought for Independence. Of those, my mother and I have proved our lineage to 10 of these men (that means we have done the exhaustive paperwork, including all the paper trail of proof.)

So far, we have not found any ancestors in any of our lines who remained loyal to the Crown.

So today, I share with you how we honor our ancestors who are buried in Montgomery County and the surrounding counties.  These photos were taken right before Christmas when we put out red (silk) roses on graves that would not otherwise be marked. The ancestors have been gone too long to have any living next of kin.

From the little country church in Scroggins, Texas, where four generations of Gordon's family is buried, I discovered a fabulous way to put flowers at a grave that would withstand wind, mowers, etc.

Those smart Texas folks had figured out that driving a one-foot piece of PVC pipe into the ground and then stabbing the flowers directly into the compressed soil inside that PVC pipe is wonderfully weather proof.

Since we have been using that method back here in Mississippi, our flowers have survived tornado weather, flash floods, and even Hurricane Katrina when she passed over the farm.

The flowers we had in pots turned over, were sucked out of the pots, and at times have been scattered around the cemetery. So far, this PVC method is really working great.

Now why is that such a big deal? Well, when we were filling clay pots or plastic pots with sand in which to stick the flowers, we had to go to three cemeteries after each windy storm to put the flowers back in place at 14 graves.

With the PVC method, we have been able to put silk flowers at some 40 family grave sites in cemeteries in several counties. The silk flowers will last in this Mississippi weather for about half a year.

We put out red for Christmas, Valentine and Mother's Day. Then we try to put something yellow or orangy in the early summer that will be appropriate through Thanksgiving.  When we paid our respects to fewer ancestors, we changed the flowers three times a year.

So, what does it matter if Thomas A. Dunn, who was born in 1774 and Nancy Ward Dunn, who was born in 1776, have flowers on their graves? They are buried in the small Dunn-O'Neal Cemetery in the middle of a cattle pasture off in north-east Montgomery County,

They are my great-great-great-great grandparents on our Dunn line. Four Greats. It just awes me that they were born at the time our country was being conceived and born. Standing at their grave site is deeply, deeply moving, and I can't quite put it into words.

We are conservative protestants, Baptists. We believe the graves of our ancestors hold only the bones or ashes of the people who died. We don't worship our ancestors. Our ancestors are all, hopefully, waiting for us in Heaven.

I look hard throughout the year to find silk flower bargains so that we can mark these 40-something graves with appropriate dignity. Mama, Unc, Gordon and I all participated in putting out the new silk flowers before Christmas. In other words, it is a family activity, and it has been a family activity for as long as I can remember.

When we all stepped back from putting flowers on the graves in these photos in the Oakwood Cemetery in Winona, MS, I felt such deep pride.

There was pride in my family, in their accomplishments and sacrifices that played a part in the modern life that Gordon and I enjoy in America. I feel a similar pride when we put flowers on the Fikes graves in Jasper County near Meridian, Mississippi.

I feel pride in the sense of family responsibility that Mama and Daddy and Unc passed on to me. They had learned from their parents and grandparents. Generations teaching the next generation by spoken word and especially by example.

In 1991, I traveled with the Alabama National Guard to report on their participation in what turned out to be the last REFORGER military training exercise in Germany. I fell head-over-heels in love with Bavaria during that trip (another topic for another day).

What wowed me on that trip was a particular Saturday in cold, dreary January with precipitation that could not decide whether to be rain or sleet or snow. Townspeople were in the cemetery, sweeping up leaves, cleaning around the graves, showing respect.

I don't know if it was a "clean up day" called by the Town Council or whether it was something the local residents did on a regular basis, but it was deeply moving to me.

We may not have had a big family gathering today on Memorial Day. We don't have any close relatives who have served, whom we can personally thank. We were not able to participate in any community ceremony of placing a wreath at the monuments of past wars.

In our own quiet way, today we have thought about and even talked about those in our family who fought, were injured, one or two who died in war, and their women who stayed at home and kept the respective farms running.

This blog allows me the forum to thank all of our service men and women who are protecting this country from posts around the world. Thank you also to their family members who are separated from their loved ones and have sacrificed in other ways to protect our United States.

May God continue to protect us from those who would do us harm.

The last photo: Someone (not us) had put identical flowers on the Unknown Confederate graves in Oakwood Cemetery. I would like to know who to thank for this gesture of respect to solders from 148 years ago.

Men and Their Wallets

This morning I stopped and just watched Gordon performing a strange male ritual.

He started to take his worn, tattered, custom- shaped wallet out of the dresser drawer, but he stopped and picked up one of the two brand new sleek black leather wallets out of his drawer.

One I gave him almost four years ago, a new bride's attempt to gently nudge her new husband into a new wallet that was not tattered and dilapidated.

The second sleek black leather wallet was given to Gordon by his best friend, Don, back in Texas. That gift was presented at least two Christmases ago.  I deduced that I was not the only one to note Gordon's bedraggled wallet.

Gordon held one new leather black wallet beside the other new black leather wallet. He turned them over several times. One was shorter than the other. One folded more flat than the other.

One had more sleeves for photos. One had an inside zipper. One had a little tab to attach a key ring (I think).

Gordon looked in every little crevice as if money would miraculously appear in these never-used wallets!

I did not move... just stayed very still and watched, hoping he would finally give up his tattered, old, worn out, dilapidated, bedraggled wallet.

Gordon pondered this heavy decision for a bit, and then he put the two new wallets back in the dresser drawer and with a swift, practiced move, slid his custom-shaped wallet into his back jeans pocket.

Man and wallet moved as one as he walked out of the room.

What IS it about men hanging onto their wallets until they practically fall apart? Maybe it is just the men in my family?

I don't remember Daddy carrying around a bedraggled wallet... but then, there is a family story...

It seems at the age of about four or five, I asked Unc to take me to town so that I could buy a Christmas present for Mama and Daddy. He thought that was cute, so he drove me to Winona.

We stopped at Mormon's Drugstore which carried a nice selection of gifts. I picked out a nice wallet for Daddy and something for Mama, and proudly took them up to the cash register to check out.

Apparently, I plunked down my precious saved Christmas money... literally just some change, and beamed a toothless grin at Unc and the lady behind the counter, so proud because I had just completed my Christmas shopping "all by myself"! 

A Unc tells it, the cashier looked at my little collection of coins and then looked at him expectantly. 

I, oblivious to the shortfall of money, was watching Unc because the lady was watching Unc.

Unc obediently pulled out his wallet and made up the difference. 

In the hundreds of times he has told this story on me, he has made a point to say the wallet I picked out for Daddy was the most expensive wallet in the store... which left both Unc's wallet and Daddy's new wallet empty!

Ah, yes, we women learn early how to handle men and their obsession with their wallets! Maybe the tattered wallet thing is an defense mechanism men try to hopefully discourage their womenfolk from raiding their wallets.

The photos were taken along Highway 404 in Montgomery County, Mississippi. These structures are not far from Duck Hill in either the Alva Community or the Sweatman Community. 

If you know the name of the family that built these buildings or farmed these farms, please share with me. If you have fond memories of the little country stores or these farms, please also share.

Memories of Easter Past

 

I adore Easter and the beauty all around us at this time of year. These old  Easter-related photos bring back happy memories.  I just adore dying Easter eggs, but I've not done that in years. 

Those egg shell tulips on the piano picture are made by blowing out the raw eggs and gently breaking the shells in half, then dying the empty shells.  Multiple steps in there, but the little craft should be available online somewhere. 

I remember the eggshell tulips being fun to make, and I wish I had time to whip up a tutorial for you to share with your little Easter bunnies!

One of these years, Gordon could hide even some plastic Easter eggs around the house or yard. He could put chocolate in most of the eggs and then something nice (think jewelry) in one very special egg.  Now THAT would be one very special Easter Bunny!

There has been no extra time this early spring for any little projects, but it would have been fun to make a bunch of Easter-themed collar covers and gather the six Westies and three English Shepherds for a fun photo shoot among the daffodils.  Why, we could put some yummy puppy treats inside the plastic eggs and hide them among the flowers for the dogs to find!

Oh yeah, that thought makes me smile!  I'll have to make a note of that idea to carry out another year!

My project for Easter this year?  Well, I did stitch half of a leaf on one of my applique quilt blocks yesterday.  *sigh*  That's better than the zero stitches I have had time to put into a quilt in the last month!  One stitch at a time, right?

Tending Family Before Easter

This is what I grew up with.  Peaceful, twisting gravel roads in Montgomery County, Mississippi.

Vivid green country roads with little tableaus like this. Naturalized daffodils flowing down an embankment like a refreshing waterfall.

Forsythia shrubs in a riot of golden yellow like small sunbursts captured on earth.

The sparkle of redbud is beginning to burst into bloom, lacy spots of fuscia that lend to the spring landscape the same sparkle that electric strings of lights bring to Christmas.

This is one of my "Through The Windshield" shots, through a polarized front van window, so judge the colors appropriately.j

The second shot is another view from my life in Mississippi. Outdoor tables and benches for Church Homecomings, also known as All Day Singing and Eating on the Ground.

My father dubbed them All day Eating and Singing on the Ground events! These tables, covered with strong wire instead of planks, stretch far to the left of the picture and in the distance far to the right of the picture.

Just picture this area covered with bright tablecloths of many hues, home-made food from one end of the tables to the other, women fanning the food to keep the flies away. Children in colorful Sunday Best garb darting here or there until they are ready to curl up to Mama or Daddy and take a nap on the quilt the family spread out on the ground.

This photo was taken at Shiloh Baptist Church in Montgomery County, MS. Loads more photos to come from the four hours we spent driving to the isolated little curches, putting fresh silk flowers on our ancestor's graves.

Annie went with Mama and Unc and me. She rode on a huge pillow in Mama's lap in the front passenger seatl We all enjoyed sharing the adventure with little Annie!

She was a perfect little Angel, despite the look on her face in this picture! We were careful to give her plenty of time to tend to her business before letting her romp with us inside the cemeteries we visited (so that she would not accidentally disrespect the cemetery.)

More I wanted to blog about today's famly ritual and trip down memory lane, but I was stung or bitten on my left hand, making typing more than a bit uncomfortable tonight.

I had put a tombstone arrangement back on top of the tombstone..not one of our relatives. I did not even notice the name on the tombstone... a tiny little good deed. 

The arrangement was really flat from having been blown on the ground and then rained upon, so I was fluffing the arrangement. When, Whammo! Something stung me from within the silk leaves.

The swelling is down some, but I can feel the burning/itching sensation creeping steadily up toward my elbow.

Wasps, yellow jackets, etc., are very potent this time of year, or it may have been another critter that bit the top knuckle of my finger on that hand. Regardless of what bit me, it has been more than six hours since the bite, so it is time for this nuisance to go away! I need my hands to sculpt tonight!

More as soon as I can...

The abandoned school bus was on either Shiloh Road or Sweatman Road in Montgomery County, Mississippi.

Back from Hospital; Thankful

Mama is home. It was another stroke. The CAT scan showed more damage.

Thankfully, neither her speech nor her mobility was affected by the stroke. We return to the doctor tomorrow to learn more about the test results. She is much weaker, and I can tell her mental processes are affected a bit more than from the 2004 larger stroke.

One CAN improve from a stroke for up to a year or more, so we will step up what we are already doing to keep her feeling needed and a vital part of the family.

(These pictures are of the three applique quilt block projects I worked on while staying with my mom in the hospital.)

We took a lap robe that fit perfectly on the end of the hospital bed.  It was a homey, happy, colorful taste of home that gave her something on which to focus her attention.  Actually, we have a small collection of these lap quilts from previous,  much longer hospital stays so that we can change the little lap quilt every few days and give her something different to enjoy visually... and something different to talk about with the nurses. 

I also use the matching pillow shams on some pillows we take from home. She does not have to fight the pillowcase slipping off of the plastic hospital issue pillow.

Once home, everything we took from house shoes to pillows gets washed in HOT water with vinegar.  Pillows get washed in HOT water and bleach. Even the cloth bags in which we carried her things are getting a disinfecting wash.

I had several completely-sleepless nights in the hospital (and several more mostly-sleepless nights) to think about other things I plan to sew (quilt, applique or just construct on the sewing machine) to have ready to go to the hospital next time. Since the mid 1990's, we've kept Mama's bag packed for a quick trip to the hospital, but it is time to re-think the contents of that bag and prepare better.

I've thought about:
1. A colorful hanging toiletry bag for her toothbrush, toothpaste, brush, shampoo, handcream, etc., to hang on the bathroom door.  I don't really  want to put her stuff in those drawers that I am sure never get scrubbed  out with disinfectant.

2. A pretty matching bag or tote for cleaning stuff...spray bottle of disinfectant and antibacterial wet wipes and some cleaning rags. 

Since 1997, I've done my own daily disinfecting of my mother's hospital room, including floor, and to date, she has not caught a secondary infection in the hospital, as many do (pneumonia, staph, etc).  I keep the door handles inside and outside the doors wiped down several times a day. 

3. A matching colorful quilted bag for gowns, housecoats, bed jackets, underthings, house shoes, etc.  When that comes back home, it will all go straight to the laundry room to be sterilized.

4. Cheerful hospital gowns that will be pretty, quilt-y, IV and heart- monitor- friendly, etc.  I'll be sharing this design process with you for your ideas and suggestions.

Lazy Girl Designs has a free hospital gown pattern you can download and make.  There is a great story behind the development of that pattern for a quilting friend. 

I've got something different in mind, but I did want to share the marvelous pattern already in existence and copyrighted by Lazy Girl Designs.

5. Two or three pretty dirty clothes bags, one to send home each day, one to fill each day.

6. Applique or pieced lap robe-sized quilts for the end of the hospital bed and matching pillowcases or shams ...made by her daughter instead of the commercial options made out of country.

7. A colorful bed rail caddy to keep that TV control/Nurse Call thing from running away or falling on the floor. She could put her glasses and tissues in a small caddy. It is hard to reach over a bed safety rail to  access these things on the bedside table. Mama has a hospital bed here at home, since her 2004 stroke, so I will have real hospital bed rails to practice on...something that will not get in the way of quickly lowering or raising the rails.

8. An eye-catching small modesty lap robe to cover arthritic knees when one travels by wheelchair for cat scans and x-rays, etc. The standard lap robe would be too large and cumbersome for this task. Think of the many wall hanging patterns that would be perfect for this!

These will eventually be developed ideas or patterns that I will be sharing on my blog...as time permits. I'd love your input or ideas or thoughts! 

Sharing our ideas... or Friendship Quilting is what inspires me about our shared  passion.

We know there will be other hospital stays in my mother's and my uncle's future, so I plan to have stuff made and packed and ready to grab when needed. 

Mama is enjoying being a part of this plan to sew pretties for her next hospital stay, and she does not see it as a morbid activity.  I think she is feeling pampered by the process of sewing pretties for her.

For my grandmother's declining years and the inevitable trips to the hospital, my mother and uncle kept a bag packed, ready to grab on the way out the door. It proved to be a wise time-saver. Probably a previous generation had a similar arrangement. We do learn many of our family traditions by watching the immediate older generation, don't we?

Back to some more porcelain before getting some sleep. We're waiting for a nasty storm front to hit in the next few hours, and we are under a tornado watch. Tornado warnings are creeping closer in counties surrounding us.

Gordon is watching the storm front approach via computer and television and weather radio, and he even parked the van in the barn to protect it from a hail storm. Tornado watch in effect for next five hours.

The dogs are restless, so we may be in for some nasty weather here on the farm.  Wind has picked up considerably.

Others in the path of this storm front across the country have met with property damage, injury and even loss of life. Prayers for them.

I'd better post this before Gordon unplugs the computers. Just about everything else is already unplugged.

It makes me proud the way he works to protect our things and keep us safe by watching approaching weather. He and Unc were our "knights in shining armor" on the days Mama was in the hospital (and I was staying with her 24/7).  Dollie and Mary kept the business running while we were in hospital mode.

My eternal thanks, folks, for your prayers and emails and messages of concern and encouragement. Those prayers make all the difference! I do want to respond to each of your comments and messages... just be patient with me, please.

A Primitive New Year

Our New Year's Day was a bit more primitive than we planned.

Worked on the hand-carved dough bowl... That's definitely a primitive item from pioneer times.

Gordon and Unc cut up a deer carcass to be ground into venison hamburger meat.  Except for the electric meat grinder, the whole hunting and butchering your own meat thing could easily be considered a primitive endeavor.

We allowed the dogs, all 11 of them, to chew on specific venison bones in the back yard. That harkens to their primitive carnivore origins, and made for some very happy dogs.

But we did not plan on the electricity suddenly being cut! The wind had picked up considerably, bringing in a sharp cold front, and apparently a branch had fallen on the electric lines somewhere between our little compound and the nearest asphalt.

In five or six hours, the power was restored.  It was such a dreary, overcast day that we had to light the kerosene lamps as soon as the power went out. 

These two lamps illuminating the venison processing belonged first to my great-great-grandmother Alice Penelope Kelly Hamer or to her father C.D. Kelly, another link to more primitive days.

Yes, we  had black eyed peas for luck and greens (in our case cabbage, but it was still a leafy green vegetable) for money in the new year. I wonder if that is just a Southern tradition, or if it shares similarities in other parts of the country or in the world?

Gordon, who never eats any vegetables, did not eat even one black-eyed pea or even a tiny bite of cabbage.  If 2008 holds bad luck and money shortages, then we know who to blame, don't we?  *wink*

Our Fourth Anniversary

4:45 a.m. December 31, 2007.  Exactly four years ago, I was a sleepless, nervous single woman of 41, about to begin the greatest adventure of my life.

This early morning, again sleepless, I've been looking back through a huge library of photos we have taken in those four years and the family photos Gordon has scanned and remastered.  I've not been able to pick out anything that can convey the roller coaster ride of these past four years.

And then it hit me.  This current dough bowl project is a perfect visual representation of the best four years of my life.

They have been difficult, exhausting, emotionally draining four years, primarily because of external circumstances.

I've never felt as loved or protected or blessed as I have felt in these past four years. Gordon and I can, in hindsight, clearly see the positives that have come from each external problem we have had to face.

God is slowly carving away the junk we each brought into this marriage... the emotional baggage... the  expectations that are not God's best for our life together.

We've cut a few new hurts in the past four years, but with each pass of God's chisel, we reach stronger hardwood.

I spent another wonderful four hours on this dough bowl yesterday.  It is shaping up nicely.  I think God would say the same of this marriage that He put together.

There is still some decayed sapwood to be removed.  There are still some deep cuts to carve out.  This dough bowl (our marriage) has many hours (many years) of work still to be invested.

The grain of this cherry hardwood is tight and beautiful and strong.

With each problem we have faced, overcome or learned to live with, God has been making our marriage stronger... more beautiful.

Four years ago, I had no concept of how difficult was the task of growing a close, loving marriage.

Four years ago, I had no concept of how beautiful it is to love and be loved in this way.

Thank you, my dear husband, for your strength of character, your faith in God and in our future, your patience in helping take care of my mother and uncle, and above all, your steadfast love.

Purple Heart Found in Trunk

Earlier this year, we were going through 76 years of accumulated family ephemera in my Grandmother's house... the one Gordon and I will move into if we ever finish with the renovation.

Gordon was moving a trunk, and he peeked inside. There at the top of the contents was this little black box with the words, "Purple Heart" hotstamped on the surface.

It was earned by my uncle, Clyde Dunn Hamer, who now lives in Pine Bluff, Arkansas.

Actually, there are two Purple Hearts represented in this little box.  If I understand correctly, the little bar in the fourth picture represents the second combat- related injury for which Uncle D earned a Purple Heart.

Uncle D was assigned as a replacement officer to Company A, 116th Infantry, 29th Division of the U.S. Army on the Allied front lines in October, 1944.   (If I have left out some of the official name of that unit, please let me know.)

His location was near or on the Roer River, just north of the area on the map that is considered the Battle of the Bulge... but he was involved in holding the Army's position at Aachen during the period that is called the Battle of the Bulge.

Here is ax excerpt of history of the 116th that Uncle D joined, riddled with losses after a trail of heavy fighting:

"Pinched out of line in August (1944), the 116th was sent to Brittany to reduce the Wehrmacht fortifications at Brest, chief port on the peninsula, and fanatically defended by Nazi paratroopers. This mission accomplished, the Division took off on a 200 mile move across France, Belgium and Holland to attack the vaunted Siegfried Line. They smashed through at Aachen and became the first allied Division to reach the Roer River, holding its position throughout the Battle of the Bulge to the South.

"In February of 1945 the 29th crossed the Roer and pushed on to the Rhine. On 02 May 45, the Blue & Gray made the historic link-up with Russian forces along the Elbe River. A few days later the war ended and the 29th counted its casualties; 19,814 killed, wounded and missing."

Uncle D stayed with the 116th until the war was over, and he returned home to the family farm in Mississippi in June, 1946.

Gordon found the medal in that trunk a few months back, and last week we sent the Purple Heart to one of Uncle D's daughters. She plans to have the medals framed in time for his birthday in February.

I'd love to hear Uncle D, now age 83, tell how he earned those Purple Hearts.

It was fun researching the Purple Heart tradition that has roots in the American Revolution, 1782. That is the image of George Washington on the face of the medal.

Here is some history of the medal.
Here is information about the Military Order of the Purple Heart.
Here is history of the 116th Infantry, now named the 116th Infantry Brigade Combat Team, 29th Infantry Division.

Earlier this year, a cousin on the Sanford side of my family traveled to France to walk in her father's (my uncle) footsteps on D-Day and the following weeks.  What a deeply moving trip that must have been.

The last photo is of (from left), Clyde Dunn Hamer, Alice Elizabeth Hamer (my mother), and Charles Kelly Hamer (the uncle, "Unc", who lives here on the farm). I'm not sure whether this photo was taken before World War II or afterward.

Back to the porcelain deadlines.  Tonight is the last almost all-nighter before Christmas.

Gordon and I are rather run-down from the deadlines, as we are every year at this time.  But, you know, compared to Christmas in a war zone, this is a piece of cake!

45 Years Ago...

It was before 7:30 p.m. on September 22,... forty-five years ago tonight.

Our beloved family doctor, Dr. Homer Howard, M.D., in Winona, MS, told my mother that he wanted to watch a football game on television, and that she had better get busy and have that baby! 

It was Ole Miss vs. someone.  (Ole Miss is the University of Mississippi.) Dr. Howard was probably only partly teasing.  He was quite focused about his football!

At any rate, Mama took Dr. Howard seriously, and popped me out in time for him to get home to cheer for his alma mater (or so I am told).  I hope Ole Miss won that night. 

From the family slides and photos Gordon continues to digitize and re-master (clean up scratches and restore color), it appears I was a bit of a camera ham!

See that stack of books on the table behind my mother and me in the first photo?  That was 1964; I was two. 

I've never outgrown that love of reading!  Thanks, Mama and Daddy, for spending countless hours reading to me as a child.

My love of dogs and other pets began early too.  This mechanical dog was a Christmas present in 1964.  That is about the same look that bursts forth on my face with each new pet that blesses my life, even now.

March, 1966 (age 4), I was the cover girl for Volume 30, Issue No. 1 of the Mississippi Library News. 

From that same photo shoot, a billboard was created that popped up all around Mississippi in 1966.  As I understand it, local businesses around the state sponsored the billboard encouraging children to read.

Wow, I'm 45 years old tonight! How did that happen so fast? 

My mother was 40 when she gave birth to me... an only child.  She and Daddy waited four years for me.  They had just about given up hope.

Now, after almost four years of marriage for Gordon and me, I struggle at times with the steel thud of realization that we won't have a child of our own.

That was just not a scenario that I ever thought would play out for me. I always thought I would have a child late in life like my mother.

I never thought I would personally understand the deep ache of an empty womb and empty arms and an empty corner of my heart... or the sense of failing as a woman in an area God designed just for women.

For whatever reason, God has chosen that Gordon and I should expend our energies elsewhere.

Our life is full and happy... and overflowing with responsibility.  We nurture my 85 year old mother and 81 year old uncle, both of whom live on the farm with us. 

Our arms are full of rescued dogs and one rescued cat, all of whom absorb all the love we have to give them. They return that love many fold.

It is still not the same as giving birth to a baby who came from the love that Gordon and I share... and seeing on Gordon's face the same look that is on Daddy's face in this picture as he held me, age two.

We have a choice in how we respond to the vagaries of life. I have to choose (sometimes many times a day) to see my vase half full, not half empty.

God has a reason for allowing us to remain childless. Whatever He has ahead for Gordon and me will fill us completely. 

But sometimes, at some significant milestone of our journey, I have to stop and allow myself time to cry. No regrets. Not even what if's. Just a woman's need for cleansing tears from time to time.