Last week some people from the Gideon Bible Company came and gave the older school children--down to grade four--little orange New Testaments. They were very impressed with our school. They’d just come from other Christian schools in town, and they commented, “These children sit quietly and listen!”
Yep, that they do.
They told us that they may not be able to continue passing out their Bibles as they have done for many years, because people are complaining that it is unconstitutional for them to pass out Bibles at public schools.
Do you know the story of the Gideon family? I used to read it to the children from the Gideon Bible one can find in any motel room, whenever we happened to be staying at a motel. It tells how the grandfather forgot to take his Bible on one of his journeys, and how badly he missed it each evening when he would rent a room for the night. He thought how wonderful it would be if there was a Bible in every room, provided for the traveler--and he spent the rest of his life trying to do just that. His family has carried on the tradition.
Also, some people who are missionaries to Wales came; Lura Kay took them through the school to Robert’s office; they, too, were very impressed with the school.
Monday night I made sandwiches for our friend Walter’s funeral--turkey ham, mozzarella cheese, American cheese, another slice of turkey ham, and lettuce on either onion or sesame seed buns spread with Miracle Whip, then sliced in half. They looked so good I finally had to try one--and they were every bit as good as they looked.
Okay, now what do I do with a sandwich with a big bite taken out of it? Can’t put it back on the tray; somebody might recognize my teeth imprints.
I put it into the refrigerator in a sandwich bag for Larry, to put into his lunch the next day, that’s what.
And he found it before he went to bed that night and ate it. So much for the next day’s lunch.
I made apple streusel cake, too. I finished at 3:30 a.m. and went to bed, which is a good thing to do at 3:30 a.m.
The funeral was at 2:00 p.m. Tuesday. We had to sit out in the school because of all the visitors, although there were not as many as for David’s funeral. A large-screen monitor was hooked up, and we could see and hear just fine. Quite a few of the young people sat out there, too. Hannah said Bobby’s and her name is engraved on their pew, so they didn’t have any trouble sitting where they always sit; but ours, she said, was only written in chalk.
It was very windy and somewhat chilly that day. There was a veteran’s salute at the graveside, and several of the babies got scared and started to cry, poor things. The veterans with the guns were standing quite a bit closer to the people than usual; perhaps that was why the babies got upset. Poor little Joshua Walker was one of them; he still remembers the awful bang the night the car hit their house. He didn’t used to cry about such things at all. One day when John H. (my brother-in-law, and his grandpa) opened the bedroom door and went in to look at the progress being made in rebuilding that part of the house, Joshua stood by the door peering in.
“Boom!” he said, and then he shuddered from head to toe.
Lura Kay said Daniel (he’s six, and the one who awoke first and looked into his parents’ bedroom) wrote her a note on her birthday card: “Losing Daddy was a trile to me, but I am doing better now.”
Michael too wrote her a note, saying that before his Daddy died, he’d been mainly concerned with what he wanted to do, and what he would be, when he grew up. “But that has all changed now,” he wrote; “that’s not what’s important to me any more. Now it’s important that I am ready to go to heaven, so that I’ll be sure to see my Daddy again.”
Doesn’t that get to you? I cried when she told me, and I cried again when I typed it now.
I told her how Michael (he’s nine) is so much friendlier than he used to be, and she told me that he prayed to get saved a couple of weeks ago. So there you are, already we see something good that has come of such a tragedy as David’s death. “And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.” (Romans 8:28) It’s absolutely true; it really is.
That evening, Larry, Victoria, and I went to Wal-Mart for a switch for the living room light, because Bobby and Hannah were here, and Hannah was playing the piano, Bobby his saxophone, and Teddy his trombone--in the dark, because the chandelier switch wasn’t working. We also got Victoria some new tennis shoes, which she’s been in bad need of, and some pink shoes for church because she recently grew out of her other pink shoes, and, according to Victoria, pink shiny shoes for church are an absolute necessity, ranking right up there with milk for your cereal and colors for your coloring book and other such imperative things.
When we came home, Larry played with Aaron, held him on his lap--and fell asleep, just as he used to do with our own babies. So much for fixing the switch.
But the band played on.
I doled out granola bars; at least we can eat those in the dark.
(Well, there is a light in the eastern end of the room.)
Aaron quietly played on his grandpa’s lap, glancing now and then at his sleeping face, then around the room to smile at the rest of us.
After Bobby and Hannah left, I hemmed Hester’s green dress (the shrunken one that used to be Dorcas’); she thought she had absolutely nothing else to wear to school the next day.
Wednesday, I cleaned my bedroom thoroughly, and then messed it all back up again ...because I brought up Christmas presents from the basement, wrote my Christmas list, and began wrapping presents, glad I’d taken advantage of that after-Christmas sale at Wal-Mart last December 26th. Now I know how many more gifts I need, and for whom I need to buy them, so that I can look for things when they are on sale.
That night, missionaries to Wales visited our church. He showed us an eight-minute video of Wales, including many closed churches around the country, some pictures of their parishioners, and their own church (Bethel Baptist). He preached (or, I should say, read [while trying to appear not to]) at the top of his voice. And I do mean the TOP. Or perhaps it was just at the top of my ability to hear.
But the strangest thing was that nearly the entire time he was ‘preaching’, lifting his head and turning it this way and that as if he was looking around at us--his eyes were shut. Only once or twice did he open them, and that only for a second or two. Guess we’re a scary-looking bunch.
Our octet did not sing as planned, because a baby belonging to two of the singers (the father is Larry’s first cousin, once removed) had to have emergency surgery on a lump on her side, which turned out to be a swollen lymph node.
We are all anxiously awaiting the results of the tests they are running on it.
Just as I’d warned Hannah, that her parakeet would escape if she left him out of the cage while going in and out of her door--he did. She called to tell me that he was in the trees across the street, chirping away. She set his cage outside for a couple of days, putting birdseed in his dish; but--no bird.
So off to Earl May’s she went, where she purchased another parakeet almost identical in color to the first--except this one, I think, is a male, whereas the first one was a female. He is very young, so young, in fact, that he is still a bit awkward at perching and has a tendency to fall off his roost now and then, after which he climbs back up, using his beak to help pull himself along, just like any self-respecting parakeet would do. Also, his vocalizations are like a teenage boy’s--part lovely warble, and part broken screech.
“But,” said Hannah, “if you can judge from the pieces of warble we’ve heard, I think he will sing a whole lot prettier than the other bird.” (He probably will; males trill and warble; females merely ‘call’. Big difference.) She sighed. “I hope she enjoys her freedom!” She rolled her eyes. “And I hope Grandma Swiney never finds out.” (You’ll recall, it was Mama’s bird before she had to stay in the hospital a while last summer.)
Caleb had an appointment with the eye doctor, Dr. Hobbs, Thursday. Last summer when he got his glasses, the doctor didn’t give him the full strength he needed, so he could better adjust to them. The doctor (in Grand Island) told us that he should have his eyes rechecked in six months to a year, and get the stronger glasses. However, just as happened with Hannah and Joseph, Caleb’s eyesight has improved. So it turns out that he needs glasses less strong, rather than more strong. His eyesight is 20/20 in the left eye, 20/30 in the right--but the doctor said he is really straining to get it that good. His pupils were dilated so the doctor could check his eye health, which turned out to be fine. Caleb had to wear sunglasses the rest of the day.
Last week Dorcas bought a used clarinet at the antique shop for $68. Thursday she had it all fixed up at Columbus Music store, and now it is much easier to play. There were air leaks in it, but those are all fixed now. From the tone of it, it seems to be a nice one.
At Wal-Mart, I bought a dozen cheap plates, a dozen glasses, a dozen bowls ($.88/4), and a set of 48-piece silverware to put in the pop-up camper. Larry had been working on the camper, and reported that the job was even easier than he’d expected, in spite of the camper people’s dire warnings that it was a rotten, lousy job to do. He replaced plastic pulleys with metal ones all around, so that the other side doesn’t wind up breaking, too.
I think all I did Thursday was to gallivant around town; but I guess gallivanting is in mothers’ and wives’ job description, yes?
Joseph helped some men pouring concrete down the block, and came home looking like he’d rolled in the mud.
Teddy finally finished the hope chest! He took it to his boss Tom’s shop, where he stained it, letting it dry while he came home for supper. Then he went back and sprayed clear-coat on it. When it dried, he affixed oak and brass handles on either end--and then it was done. All done!
Thursday afternoon, the fire chief called to tell me that Lydia had won first place for all her correction slips on fire hazards. I tell you, it’s a wonder we didn’t have our house condemned, she wrote so many. He would be at our home with her prizes in just a few minutes.
Upon hanging up the phone, I went to my bedroom window, from which I could see Lydia in our back yard playing ball with her cousin, Sharon. When I told her the news, she was so excited, she hopped up and down all the way over to Sharon to tell her. She’d thought she had forfeited her right to win anything since she was unable to attend the last Jr. Fire Patrol meeting, because it was held on a Wednesday night after being canceled the previous night on account of bad weather. And we have church on Wednesday nights, so she didn’t go.
Well, the fire chief came to our house and brought her a trophy with a gold figure of a firefighter, and on the ‘marble’ base is inscribed her name, ‘Chief Lydia K. Jackson’, the name of our school, and the date. She also got a pretty gold ‘Chief’ pin, and a five-dollar bill.
After he gave her the things and left, she ran at top speed across the street and down the block to show some of her other friends. And that was the last I saw of either Lydia or her trophy for quite some time.
Friday we went to the Salvation Army to look for pots and pans to put in the camper. We found all sorts of things, including a cute little cast iron pot and lid; a big enamel-covered pan with a lid, on the side of which is painted fruits; a couple of curved-bottom skillets; and a brand new pressure cooker. The pans were $2 each, the smaller skillets were $1.50, and the pressure cooker...only $5. I also got a few handfuls of utensils, such as spatulas, big spoons, slotted spoons, cheese slicer, can openers, and knives--at 29¢ each.
Then, remembering that Hester had said she wanted jewelry for her birthday, I looked at their jewelry case. Jackpot! It was stock full of pretty things. Sometimes the only things in that case are a few tarnished old rings that look like they came from a gumball machine, and that I suppose would only be useful to wear if one anticipated being mugged, in which case she could sock the perpetrator in the face with a fistful of those gaudy baubles, and there he’d be, then, at her feet, colder’n a mackerel.
Anyway, I got a bunch of necklaces, bracelets, and pins. Some were beaded, some were delicate chains with pendants, and some of the bracelets matched the necklaces. One little pin was a small cat carved into a piece of teakwood; that’ll probably be her favorite. Then, thinking that she would need another jewelry box for all that stuff, we looked on the ‘knickknack shelves’, as Victoria calls them, and found two little wicker boxes--one heart-shaped and woven with a delicate design, the other round and with seashells on top. We got a little ceramic flowerpot and a little flowered china ring box, too.
I also bought her three pairs of shoes for church, brand new ones with the tags still on.
Friday evening, Hester went over to Mama’s to take Dorcas a letter we’d received. She peeked in the window to make sure Mama wasn’t napping before she went in--and Dorcas saw her and nearly jumped out of her skin, which of course made Mama laugh and laugh. Mama asked Hester if she would like to stay all night there with Dorcas.
She would, and she did.
Saturday, Larry finished his work on the camper. He showed the boys how well it worked, rolling it down...and then back up--but rainwater had collected in the canvas top, and it proceeded to pour off in a gushing torrent onto Larry, who only managed to escape the worst of the deluge by back-pedaling pell-mell. All of this entertained the boys no end, as you might well imagine.
I put the new dishes, pans, silverware, and sheets into the drawers, and Joseph helped me bring the sleeping bags and blankets from the basement to the pop-up (or, as Teddy calls it, the ‘inflatable tent’).
Meanwhile, the littles went with Hannah out to Lake Babcock. They rode scooters or walked; she pushed Aaron in his stroller. There is a new paved bike trail out there that winds around the lakes for several miles; it’s called the Two Lakes Nature Trail.
The little yellow and black bird I saw at Willow Creek State Recreation Area last week was a common yellowthroat, which is not so common after all, since I’ve never before in my life seen one. I wonder what the bigger black and white bird was? I thought it was a bobolink, but I was wrong.
That night I made lemon bars for dinner the next day. I snitched a tiny bit in one corner when it came out of the oven, and determined that I should’ve put the layer of cream cheese filling in it, after all.
Sunday morning, Robert told us we will not be supporting the missionary to Wales. He acted like a totally different person once he got behind the pulpit, Robert said; and he’d thought he knew him, after spending several hours talking with him, and eating a meal with him. Robert thought that he got up there on the platform, looked at all those rows upon rows of young people not on the mission field, and it rubbed him the wrong way. Or maybe it scared him, and that’s why he hardly opened his eyes through his entire sermon--if indeed you can call it a ‘sermon’, when he read the whole thing (while pretending not to).
The family all came for dinner: creamy chicken vegetables and biscuits, salad, applesauce, yogurt, and lemon bars.
Teddy had the hope chest sitting in the living room, and was going to give it to Amy that day. He hadn’t told her about it; it was supposed to be a surprise. But Victoria met her at the front door and spilled the beans, even though Teddy was trying his dead level best to steer her off in another direction and hush her up.
Ah, the perils of having five-year-old sisters. If only I had’ve thought of telling her to keep still!--to let Teddy do the honors.
Oh, well; Teddy forgave his little sister, and the hope chest is still just as pretty as ever.
After dinner, Keith and Esther came with us to the cemetery to put flowers on the graves. Mama wanted to go there, but I didn’t know if she’d be able, so I took videos of all the gravestones of people she has known and loved. I played the video when I stayed with her Sunday night, and she enjoyed looking at all the names, and the many flowers.
This morning, the kids all rushed outside to play with their cousins and the go-cart and balls and Frisbees.
Caleb, looking at the calendar, misread, “Memorial Day: In honor of veterinarians.”
And then he wondered why everyone laughed.
Dorcas went with Bobby, Hannah, and Aaron uptown to Frankfurt Square, where there was a nice ceremony as they put up the veterans’ flags.
Keith and Esther planned to go on some sort of short excursion with Christine’s children. They will be missing David an awful lot today, you can be sure; he always did something special with them on the holidays.
Soon I had everything gathered together and loaded into the Suburban, and we headed off into the Sandhills, which is a very good place to go if you want to avoid the HHC (Human Holiday Conglomeration). And, as I’ve said, the Sandhills aren’t so sandy, really, but are covered with short-grass prairies. From early spring until late fall, there are wildflowers blooming all over the place: first the snowdrops, bellflowers, and violets; then the ox-eye daisies, purple thistles, and the wild pansies; and later, black-eyed Susans, Maiden Pinks, and Queen Ann’s Lace. Hundreds of thousands of birds sing their hearts out from morning till night.
As we started out of town, Larry told the children, “Sit still and buckle up, because there are a lot of cops and robbers on the roads today.”
We went first to Pibel Lake State Recreation Area. It has been fixed up nicely since the last time we were there, although it isn’t very big. It is side by side with Pibel Bible Camp, a new development that wasn’t there the last time we drove through. There are nice little cabins, bigger buildings, big pagodas, and they are putting in a baseball diamond. This is all built on the side of a wooded hill overlooking Pibel Lake, and would be a delightful place for children to camp, I think.
Since it wasn’t very big, and since there were quite a few people there already, we decided to continue on to Calamus Reservoir, which was 35 miles farther west. Calamus is the second largest lake in the state, after McConaughy, unless Harlan is slightly bigger. They seem to be about the same size, I guess.
On our way there, we happened upon a rodeo and roping contest west of Erickson, so we stopped and watched and took pictures for a while. We saw a Palomino that glistened a coppery-golden color in the sun, as if he’d been gilt with pure gold. His mane and tail were ash-white, and flowed back in rippling waves as he ran. He was sleek and beautiful and strong, and we immediately decided that what we really needed was a golden Palomino. None of us had ever before seen a horse colored so.
I took pictures of three little boys with a dummy calf made of metal, short horns, swinging heels, and all. They each had a coiled lariat, and were twirling and roping like anything. We saw a little girl, maybe about seven years old, on a Shetland pony. He was black and white with a swirled pattern, sort of like a marble cake, only fuzzier.
When we got to Calamus Reservoir, we decided to drive all the way around it in the daytime for once. The only times we’ve driven around it have been at night. We chose as our fishing spot the place we usually go to picnic and fish, on the east side not far from the dam, on a point between two arms of the lake.
And, would you ever believe, by the time we left, we’d caught seven--yes, I said seven--fish!!! Unbelievable. Us!--the Jacksons of Corn County, actually catching fish. Truthfully, and even more amazing, we caught eight, and the eighth one was a big’un; but it was a carp, more’s the pity.
You know the only way to eat carp, which is an extraordinarily bony fish? Here’s how:
1) Get yourself a good pine board (mark, only pine, now).
2) Fasten the fish firmly to the board (epoxy glue is not recommended).
3) Clean the fish.
4) Scale the fish.
5) Fillet the fish.
6) Turn oven on 350°.
7) Bake the board.
8) Eat it.
9) Throw away the fish.
A there was nary a pine board to be found in the vicinity, we let Carposteichthyesfish go, which seemed to please him immensely, judging by the speed with which he rocketed off toward Johnstown.
We had caught three fish before suppertime (and I use the term ‘we’ loosely, as I did not touch a fishing pole save to hold the handle once while Hester untangled the line), and Larry tossed the lines in and secured the poles while we went to a nearby picnic shelter and ate. We did not have the green beans I’d planned on, on account of the fact that Larry had forgotten the campstove.
And if Larry had’ve remembered the campstove, we still would not have had the green beans I’d planned on, on account of the fact that I had forgotten the pan.
I did not reveal this omission, however, and don’t you dare tell. Husbands should think things are their fault once in a while, don’t you think?
But we had plenty to eat: sandwiches of sliced turkey, mozzarella, and lettuce; plums, tapioca pudding, applesauce, strawberry juice, and sun chips, with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for dessert.
When we returned to our poles, we found four fish on the lines. Lights, camera, ACTION!
About the time the sun went down, a storm started rolling in from the west, which was the strangest thing, because there was a lower layer of clouds that was traveling west, fast. It was only the upper layer that was traveling east. That’s the kind of sky activity that spawns tornadoes, and in fact there was one near Kearney last night. Fortunately, it was out in the country, and there were no reports of any damage.
It was time to go anyway, so we gathered our things together and prepared to go. Across the lake, we could hear a pack of coyotes howling, and all around the narrow arm where we were fishing, bull frogs began voicing their noisy opinions.
On our way home, we saw jack rabbits, a couple of deer, and a raccoon. Yes, I like the Sandhills of Nebraska. They are wild and untamed, with mixed woodlands in the gullies and arroyos; humanity is few and far between; and the wildlife is abundant and varied. The many clear, spring-fed rivers have hundreds of thousands of fish, and there are just as many birds in the woods and grasslands.
Lightning flashed and flickered all around us the entire way home, but nary a drop of rain fell until we were safely in the house watching the video I’d taken. I’m pleased with it; I’m getting better at taping! I just started on the twelfth videocassette, and I only started using a camcorder in earnest last July. But it’s a far cry cheaper than taking photos, although I am quite partial to my 35mm; and the children really enjoy watching the videos.
Teddy beat us home; he’d gone with Amy and her brothers Kyle and Charles to SAC (Strategic Air Command) Museum. Actually, that’s no longer the name: it’s Strategic Air and Space Museum. This name change certainly ruffled a few feathers, because SAC (‘sack’) was well-known throughout the world, and people were afraid it would hurt tourism, if their advertisements were from some unknown place (SAS?).
Teddy bought Caleb a tie tac--a large pewter fighter jet; and for Victoria, he got a miniature Bop-It game. (Aarrgghh; just what we needed; another one of those things screaming and yelling.) Victoria is delighted. Well, Caleb is, too; but his tac isn’t so vocal as Victoria’s game.
Now Larry is filleting the fish, and I am sitting here typing while Kitty sprawls atop my desk, sleeping. She is having a dream--maybe even a nightmare--and her paws are jerking this way and that. Periodically her tail flaps wildly, and she shudders from head to foot. Perhaps she is dreaming that the ‘bird’ she thinks she captured has turned out to be a pterodactyl of the most ferocious persuasion?
P.S.: We recently sent our Aunt Lynn a bouquet, accompanied by a teddy bear, from her local florist. She wrote to thank us -- telling us, "--and he has such a cute belly button!"
Eh?!
I replied, tongue in cheek (somewhat): You’re quite welcome for the bear and balloon...but you say it had a (ahem, erm) circular indentation on its midriff?! Good grief.
You must’ve thought that was really funny, Aunt Lynn, knowing (or at least strongly surmising) that I would never in a million years have picked a bear with one of those. haha The truth of the matter was, I asked for a horse. (Second choice, a dog.)
Imagine showing it to people who know us, and saying, “Look what the Larry Jackson Gang gave me!” and them thinking, “Eh! They would choose something like that??!” hahaha snicker hee hee hee snort hahahaha breathe hee hee hee hooohooo hahahahaha
Okay, we have a solution: Please send dimensions, such as
a) length of bear from base of neck to waist
b) waist
c) chest
d) length of bear from waist to feet
e) length of bear from neck to feet
f) length of arms
g) width from shoulder to shoulder (outer shoulder, middle of upper arm, that is)
Once we know the amplitude of this omnivore of the family Ursidae, Hannah will crochet him a sweater, and very kindly implore him to wear it at all times.
Please conduct this operation with all possible expedition (while not neglecting to feed the various horses, goats, dogs, cats, mice, gerbils, hamsters, or guinea pigs of your menagerie), so that our ears may return to their customary hue, instead of this ghastly glowing garnet glaze.
This way, your bear will have more of a personal touch, which those long-distance flower-shop deliveries sometimes lack. Actually, I didn’t at all plan to do that, but all of a sudden I looked at the calendar, and, ohmeohmy, it was your birthday already and I had totally forgotten to send you something and I’d been intending to, all through the month of May!
One small brain, gone AWOL.
One small sweater, comin’ up. You want fries with that?
P.P.S.: By the way, what color is the bear? He’s not neon orange or something, is he? And he doesn’t have a thatch of lime green punk-rock hair standing straight up atop his troll poll, does he?
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