More for Kenneth

During our conversation Saturday I told Kenny I had found two or three Kodachrome slides crumpled in the bottom of a box.  One was of Ann, which I posted yesterday.  He said, "Do you still have all those slides?'  I told him I did. He said, "We used to have so much fun setting the projector on your bed and showing the pictures on the wall."

I told him that if I could locate the pictures I might share some of them here.  Then this happened.

 One of my favorite snapshots of Frieda, my children's mother.
On Queen Anne Hill, Seattle, Washington, 1956.

 The kid's grandfather, D.W. Lacy.  Backyard picnic,
Wilkinson, Indiana 1960

 Their grandmother, Vera Morrell Lacy

 Our first-born, Ann Marie

Seattle

 Ivanelle Beth

Wilkinson

 Delbert Wendell

Lebanon

 Lebanon, Indiana c. 1963

 Grandmother Mary Matilda Palmer Morrell.
She was 83 when she visited us in Lebanon.

Ann and Ivy with cousins Coleen and Joanne 

and their Aunt Mildred Morrell Stone.  Lebanon, 1963.

 Little backyard mechanic, Converse, Indiana, ca. 1965

 Mom with her three chicks. The fourth still a couple of years in the future.

 Dad and Mom in Converse.

 Grandpa and Grandma Lacy at their home on Maish Road,
Frankfort, Indiana  ca. 1972.

With Grandpa in Frankfort

 There's Kenny!  His brother is at the wheel.

 No comment.  From me, anyway.

 The "lineup" is against the wall of the Gateway Arch ca.1972.

Names, Kenny.  People and pets.

In front of the chicken house in which we lived in Portland, Oregon, 1968.

Kenneth is nine months and walking.

Ann Marie

I found a crumpled Kodachrome slide in the bottom of an old box.  Flattened it best I could, laid it on the light screen and took a snapshot.  Here is the result.  My eldest child beside her grandfather's nearly new 1956 Ford.  Muncie, Indiana, clearly a very long time ago.

My Daddy

Father, Daddy, Dad.  This man grew up hard-scrabble on Colorado's high plains, raised a heathen, God reached down and drew him into His family when the boy was seventeen years of age.  From that point on Dad dedicated his life to the service of his Master, preaching the gospel of Jesus Christ and salvation through His atoning Blood.

Dad went home to his Heavenly Father nineteen years ago.  I still miss him, but the love, the guidance, the teachings that he left with me remain with me.

  

Delbert W. Lacy 1910 - 1999

First Trip to California #T

I recall four trips from Colorado to California during the 1940s.  Details are sketchy, but vignettes were impressed deeply in my memory.  I would have been about seven years of age during the first of these trips, thirteen at the time of the last.

The first journey was from Canon City to Los Angeles via the Santa Fe.  This would have been, I think, in 1941.  We, the family I mean, boarded the train at Pueblo and traveled through Raton Pass into New Mexico, and this provided one of the most vivid memories of the trip.  The train was drawn by a steam engine.  The Super Chief War Bonnet powered by diesel electric also ran this route but we were not Hollywood celebrities or movers and shakers.

At Trinidad helper engines were added to the train to assist it in making the grade and a very steep grade it is at 3.5%, which my seven-year old self did not know.  I looked it up.  The locomotives were chuffing up the grade, smoke pouring copiously into the atmosphere.  We discovered that on certain curves one could look out the window of our car and see the engine in the rear pushing us along.  I can see it yet.  Mallet, Dad said.  Mallay, I  heard, which is the pronunciation of the word.

Santa Fe Station, Raton, New Mexico

 Other bits of memory from this trip include the red peppers hanging on the sides of the houses around Bernalillo and across New Mexico; the more-or-less interminable transit of the desert lands between Albuquerque and Los Angeles; the arrival at Union Station in L.A. where we were met by the Uncle and the reunion with Mother's family began!

Cousin, Cousin

My cousin, Eunice, passed away this fall.  She was the oldest living descendant of Samuel Harvey Morrell, my grandfather.  So now I am the patriarch of the clan, if primogeniture has any bearing.

Once about every third whip stitch a meme pops up on fb reminding us that our cousins were our first friends.  And that may well be true for many people, but not all human experiences are shared by everyone.  There are, for example, those whose parents had no siblings and thus they have no cousins. Or, in my case, I have forty-eight first cousins, some of whom I never met and never will, for some of them are gone now.*

The circumstances of various lives determine friendship and acquaintanceship.  In my case, the parents moved from the community of my nativity when I was but six months old.  Moved a good long way away, too.  Most of my father's siblings either stayed in that locale or moved themselves a good way away to somewhere we weren't.

My mother's people all packed up and moved to California when I was about five years old, and there went that opportunity to develop a "best friend" relationship with any of my maternal cousins.  Over the years I met all those cousins and even developed friendships with some of them.  To this day there are three of them who are facebook friends and another three or four who are "Christmas card" cousins.  But all of them reside on one coast or the other.

During my early years there were three of my dad's siblings with whom we exchanged visits and I came to know their children.  Uncle Wayne and his family even lived in the same town we did during my teen years.  Uncle Ben's son is a fb friend and his sister and I correspond on occasion.

Otherwise the familial relationships were characterized by a cousin whom I met via the expediency of stopping in his town while on a trip several years ago.  When I was met at the door by his wife it was clear that she had little interest in who I was or what I wanted, but she did call her husband to the door.  We made arrangements to meet in a restaurant for supper after BBBH and I checked into a motel.  We met, neither of our wives joined us.

During the course of the visit he remarked, "We Lacys aren't very sociable."

Pretty well summed it up, at least so far as family interactions are concerned.

*Thirty five on Dad's side, 13 on Mama's side.

Backyard Mechanic #T

I saw the motto and knew instantly what was being advertised-- brand name and all.

How long has it been since you saw an ad for piston rings?  Everyone, well, nearly everyone, owns some but no on gives them a second thought.  That is unless he is a combustion engine mechanic by profession.

Back in the. . .  Well, you know, when I was a lad it was not uncommon for the family vehicle to develop a bad habit of belching smoke due to worn piston rings, among possibly other causes.  It was also not uncommon for Pops, or Daddy by whatever moniker he was known in the household to purchase a set of piston rings and a few other things, pull the car under the shade of the elm, and proceed to correct the problem.

This just isn't done anymore.  Isn't necessary, and scarce is the man who has the know-how to accomplish the task.  We resolve our automotive issues in different ways these days.  But here is a brief story, true story, a memory from my kidhood, circa 1945.  Faithful reader Vee will verify or correct the date.

Little sister having been stricken ill was hospitalized and the appendix was removed.  Daddy had a real concern regarding payment of the accompanying medical bills.  I think I remember numbers, but in the interest of correctness in reporting I shall tell the story without naming dollar amounts.

Dad had access to a small amount of cash but not enough to meet the obligation.  A new neighbor recently moved into town had a 1934 Ford sedan he wished to sell.  But the little V-8 engine was afflicted with the problem cited above, along with other foibles.  Father bought the car, pulled it into a garage on the back alley, and disassembled the engine, laying the parts carefully on the workbench.  We were cautioned, nay warned, that to touch, move, knock over, or in any other manner disturb this arrangement was to put our very lives in peril.  Kidding.  Dad did not threaten our lives, but he made it clear that we might wish we were dead if we messed up his work.

He bought piston rings, some bearings, and whatever else he found he needed, cleaned the old engine, rebuilt it and reassembled it.  He sold the car for enough money to recover his investment and pay off the medical bills.

Hastings had nothing on my father who was also "tough but gentle."

Halloween Throwback Celebration

For this year's Halloween celebration, let's revisit Uncle Japtha's tale of a certain Halloween on the High Plains, 1924,

Happy Halloween, Mr. Principal
 
Did I tell  you about the time your Daddy and your uncles pranked the principal on Halloween? Well, them boys was sump'n, let me tell you.  Now I don' 'spose your Daddy's ever tole you of the onry-ness a them kids?  Anyways, there was a whole passel 'n'm kids, mostly boys and your pa right in the middle the bunch.  Now one a them boys was just a year older'n your pa, and another'n a year younger.  Whut a trio they made.  No, they warn't no singin', but mischief! Lawd, ha' mercy.

So anyhow there was this October when they was prolly 13, 14, and 15 year ol'.  Halloween a comin.'  Now the principal a the school over there was Ward Livengoodll, he was "livin' good," what with his nice income from the second-best job in the county.  Har! har! Livin' good.  I sometime crack myself up.  Anyway, ol' Ward, he come out here from Indiana, had him a dee-ploma from Oakland Normal School, doncha know.  What was the best job in the county?  Why sheriffin', I reckon.  You got no idee the ways them fellas can line they own pocket.  But that's a tale for another time.  So ol' Livengood marry a sweet thang from over to Terre Haute, and headed West.  Lureen Tuttle, she was, and the only way I would know that is she never cease from tellin' ever' one she meet about "the Tuttles from Terre Haute."

So Principal Livengood got the school over there, an' that school were the centerpiece a McClave. They had just built hit a couple years afore, and it were a two-story brick, three ya count the basement.  Now Livengood drive him a little ol' Model T Ford car, runabout, they call hit.  So anyway, morning of November 1 he walk on over to school-- didn't even notice his car wasn't aside his house, on account he only drove hit to work but rarely.  But he get to school, unlock the building and clumb on up the stairs.  Imagine his surprise when he get to the second floor, and there a settin' in the hallway smack again' his office door is his very own personal Model T!


And do you think that trio and they cohorts had anythin' to do with that?  Not much, they didn't; no more'n hit was them left Fred Sparks's outhouse in the middle George Watt's broom corn field.

© 2013 David W. Lacy

 I resurrect this annually for I have yet to find a better Halloween cartoon.
















This one is pretty good but not limited to Halloween.

2√2b²

Family Altar

I was blessed as a child to live in a home with two devoted Christian parents.

Needless to say it was a different time and in today's world not all families can practice the routine we followed.  But just to be clear: it is important for each family to make time for devotions within the home and insofar as possible that time should include all family members.

Our day started with gathering at the breakfast table where we partook together of God's provisions for the start of our day.  As soon as the dishes were cleared we all sat in the living area for "family altar."

A portion of scripture would be read aloud.  Each member of the family, even the youngest who could read, had a turn at reading. We discussed the verses read, Mama or Daddy leading but all were included and each person was encouraged to offer thoughts or questions.  Then we talked about the things we would address to the Lord in prayer. We all knelt at our respective places and in turn each person would pray aloud.

Following the devotional period the individual family members went about the beginning of his or her daily duties:  Daddy to work, Mother to the kitchen to make preparations for the maintenance of the home and the family's well-being, the children off to school or off to play depending on the age and the season of the year.

Whatever traditions are built and maintained in the home it is my opinion that none is more important to the spiritual health of the family and its members than is the "family altar," a cohesive devotional time.

Image: preparedtoanswer.org

Rockport's Unwelcome Visitor

 

 Rockport seems like our second home, so many years we wintered there.  Ground zero when Harvey made landfall, Rockport is in shambles.  Hurts our hearts and we pray for the good people there, those we know and those we don't know.

It will take months to clean up and who knows how long to rebuild.

Now Houston is being pummeled with rain and some models predict the possibility of 40 inches of rainfall by the time Harvey is through with Texas.  Some places have already received more than two feet of rainfall.  Heartbreaking.

 Port Aransas where we have stayed on several occasions is also victim of terrible destruction from the storm.

The Big Tree on Goose Island near Rockport is said to be over 1000 years old.  A spokesman for Texas Parks says it survived the storm.  "Didn't get old by being weak," or words to that effect.

On this date I usually note that it is the anniversary of my mother's birth.  Sometime in the middle of the night August 27-28, 1908 Vera Morrell was born near Hartman, Colorado.  In the excitement of the moment no one checked the exact time.  She always celebrated the 28th as her birth date.

Mama with Dad, their children and the first four of their grandchildren.  The youngest person in this picture is now 58 years of age.  Mom would have been 52 here.

The Old Man and the Old Cars

Two of the boys, Kent and Ricky, picked me up Saturday morning and took me to a car show in celebration of Fathers' Day.  The show was the 30th Annual John Dillinger Legendary Bank Robbery Run in Daleville, Indiana, a bucolic thirty-minute drive from the house.

Whatever the show had to do with John Dillinger I failed to see, but it was a great car show!  Tons, literally, of entries ranging from '27 T-buckets to Cadillac road arks of the Fifties and Sixties and MoPar muscle cars of the Seventies.

To my surprise one of Kent's favorites (he's big on MoPar muscle cars) was a '63 Rambler 440.  He also was amazed at the Willys vehicles which he said he had never seen.  Ricky was enthralled with the Cadillacs.

After I was worn out and had seen about all the old iron I could process in one session, Kent treated us to a steak dinner, then home.

Great day!

Sheep, Kine, Donkeys, and Camels

Last week we referenced Genesis 32 in which Jacob is given a new name.  Continuing the reading through the chapter and into the next, we find Jacob with his family and his worldly goods approaching the land which had been promised to Abraham and his descendants, the land he had left many years prior.

It seems to be running through Jacob's mind that he and his twin brother Esau had not parted on the best of terms.  And he had to know that the trick he had played on his father, at his mother's behest, which deprived Esau of his rightful inheritance might weigh in Esau's assessment of his brother, and might in fact prove perilous to Jacob.

Then Jacob gets word via his scouts that Esau is approaching with an army of 400 men.

In a tactical maneuver, Jacob divides his camp into two contingents thinking that if one part of his party were attacked, the other part might escape.

But more, Jacob prepared a gift for his brother: 580 animals with their tenders.  These, too, he divided into blocks, sending several groups "with considerable space between them."  When the first group meets Esau the herdsmen are to tell him it is a gift from Jacob.  Then the next group will arrive with the same message, and so on until all the animals have been presented.  Then Jacob himself will show up.

Then the guys saw each other.  Clasping one another, hugging, tears of happiness at the reunion!

Esau said, "What is the meaning of all these beasts?"

"They are from me to you.  I have prospered and I want to share my wealth with you."

"Nay, keep your livestock.  I have also prospered.

"No, please take them.  They are yours."

"Okay."

Esau of course invites Jacob to join him, come with him to his land.

You  need to read the story to discover how much the newly reunited brothers trusted each other.

There is a moral in here somewhere, perhaps many of them.  But, Praise the Lord! I am not a preacher so it is not incumbent upon me to ferret them out and present them to you.

Have a blessed Lord's Day.  As Jacob did, follow God's lead in your life.

My Daughter and Me

 

Bright sunny day but colder than bears. 4^oF when I looked a few minutes ago.  I am in hospital as I write this.  The patient is my daughter, Ivanelle.  The staff just wheeled her away for the procedure and I wait here in room 8, surgery.

Fifty-seven years ago I got the call telling me that her mother had been admitted to hospital in Ft. Wayne.  I was in Muncie.  An hour later I was at Frieda's side.  Perhaps it was a holiday for Indiana Highway Patrolmen.  But having arrived about 3:30 in the afternoon it was nevertheless 11:30 before Ivanelle made her debut.  Not saying she has always been stubborn, but she is tenacious.

I have changed her diapers, picked her up when she has fallen.  I have bandaged her skinned knees and I have taken her to doctors when the need was beyond me.  I was with her when she was in labor with her first child.  What she said then about her husband was not nice, but they eventually had two more kids and they are now loving grandparents to seven.  I have been with Ivy through birthdays of children and grandchildren, through graduations and the celebrations of them.  But today is the hardest thing I have ever done with her.  The symptoms she suffers are scary and we can but trust the doctors and the Good Lord.  It is in their hands.

Update: Doctor says there were no signs of cancer and the irritation in the stomach can be treated with diet and medication.  I brought the lady to the house and she is resting.

Bicentennial Celebration

In 1816 Indiana was admitted to the Union of the United States.  In celebration of the state's bicentennial a torch is being carried across all 92 counties.  Our grandson, David K. Lacy, is honored to be one of the torchbearers in Tipton County.  He is making this run today, October 6 on the 106th anniversary of his great grandfather Lacy's birthday and just one day before his own 31st birthday.

Five days ago David was promoted to the rank of Sergeant in the Tipton Police force.

A Quick Trip

A drive to Mt. Vernon, IL, a funeral and visiting with relatives.
A night's sleep, a drive home through rain, rain, rain.
Elapsed time: 32 hours, 15 minutes.Condition: Exhausted.

Frame of mind:  Thanks be to God for travel mercies and safe arrival home.

Respect and Love

"All my kids are too smart for their own good.  Sometimes I wish they would dummy up."

I heard that and I knew what she meant.  It does not mean she wants them to quit talking to her; she simply wishes they would quit talking long enough for her to express her feelings or thoughts on the subject.  But, "No-o-o; they know everything."

 I have heard the old saw, "When they are young your children walk on your feet.  When they are older they walk on your heart."

I don't believe for the most part that they intend to walk on your heart.  It is simply a case of being too smart for their own good.  And thoughtless.

May all your familial relationships be bright and fulfilling.

Need a nice place for your retail business?

The venue for Sunday's party was this building in Frankfort.











History would doubtless suggest that this facility was once known as the Bankable Building.  Bankable, if I am not mistaken, was a cigar brand.









The locals know the building as the National Cigar Company, the home of El Verso Cigars.  Cigars were rolled here for 96 years.  At times in its history, the company employed up to 150 people here.  When they closed the doors in March 2015 seventeen employees lost their jobs.  Federal taxes were cited by the owners as a principal factor in the decision to close.

There now remains but one cigar factory in the United States.  It is located in Tampa, Florida.

This building was recently purchased by BBBH's granddaughter and her husband, Crystal and Chris Reichert.  They are making plans to develop a group of boutiques, artisans, and cafes to occupy the acre of floor space available.

The listing agent named here is BBBH's d.i.l.

Zoo on a Mountain

Cheyenne Mountain Zoo opened its gates to the public in 1926, thanks to Spencer Penrose.  The zoo has cared for its creatures and provided educational opportunities to the people of the Pikes Peak area for ninety years.  The zoo is on 140 acres on the side of Cheyenne Mountain of which forty acres is occupied by the zoo itself.  It is laid out in such a way that one hikes up the side of the mountain as he observes the creatures in their individual habitats, then continuing onward, turns down again toward the exit. 


Now a memory from the mid-40s when I was perhaps 11 or 12 years of age.  We lived no more than twelve miles from the zoo so it was an easy day-excursion.  My Aunt Bill and three of her children, then in their teens, were visiting us from Kansas, that magical Land of Oz.  On this day Mom, having prepared sack lunches for the gang, and Dad having insured sufficient gas for the outing, crammed the gang into the car, and off to the adventure!

The details of the day have naturally been largely lost in the mists of time, but a vivid episode imprinted itself upon my memory such that virtually every step for a few hundred yards, every word spoken as we made those steps, are still in my mind.  We had probably eaten our lunches in a rest area midway through the trek.  We no doubt oohed and aahed over the antics of the gibbons and monkeys, admired the plumage and overall beauty of the creatures in the aviary, were satisfyingly repulsed by the creatures that creep and crawl on the earth without benefit of external appendages.  Now we had made the turn, headed down hill, the enclosures for the beasts over the wall to our left as we descended.

We were almost within sight of the parking lot, but for a remaining turn in the road, when we came to a display representative of an African veldt which was populated with animals indigenous to that far-distant part of the world.  This included a few spotted hyenas, one of which seemed as curious about us as we were interested in it.  Here Cousin Ward said, "Make him laugh, Uncle Delbert."

Now my father was noted for his uproarious laughter when he was in a jovial mood.  Dad liked the idea and burst forth with his trademark roar, which did indeed resemble the call of the hyena.  "Now, Delbert, you ornery thing," my mother said as she headed on down the hill, insisting that the rest of us come along.  Ward and Dad stayed with the canids.  As we were rounding the last curve we could hear from behind not only Dad's laughter, but a response from the hyena.  What an uproar when its companions started barking as well.  Father's laughter turned from teasing to genuine out-and-out hilarity, the cacophony increased as the other inhabitants of the zoo joined in-- the screaming of the monkeys, the squawking of the macaws, the roar of the lion, and by the time the elephant trumpeting began Dad and his nephew had caught up with the women and children.  We all hastened to the car, somehow again fitting eight people into a vehicle designed to transport five, six at most, and departed the premises.

Image: Wikipedia

Hunstable and Moore

A mystery unfolds yet remains a mystery.  Last Thursday  I posted a picture of my great uncle William H. Lawson in front of his shop in Big Stone Gap, Virginia.  Included in the packet of pictures given to me was the above picture labelled simply "Bill Lawson."  I can see that one of these gentlemen could be a younger version of the shopkeeper in Thursday's photo.

But here is the mystery.  Remember that I know nothing of Mr. Lawson's career other than the line in the obituary of his mother and the snapshots I am sharing.  I attempted some online research and found that Hunstable and Moore established a bootery in Dallas, Texas about 1885 or 1886.  As the only other leather works with a similar name that I could find was a Hunstable firm in Berrien Springs, Michigan, I might, correctly or erroneously, conclude that this picture was from Dallas.  Now I do know that Mr. Lawson was born in Tennessee and died only a few miles away in Virginia.  But I do not know that he ever traveled to Texas.  But he might have done.  So the mystery remains.

Any Lawson descendants who can shed light on my mystery?

The Moore of H & M died in 1894. Some shenanigans, apparently an outgrowth of admixture of business and personal funds, landed the firm in court, the proceedings and outcomes of which are much too convoluted for me to explain.  Heck, for me to understand.   Since I've no personal interest in H & M and since it happened over a century ago, I gave up reading the court documents long before the end.. 

Word of the day: admixture

Old Times in Virginia

William H. Lawson, shoe repairman Big Stone Gap, Virginia.  Mr. Lawson was my grandmother's uncle.

As is often the case in genealogical research one finds many relatives not directly in ones line. Such a case, for example, would be great great uncles or a great aunt and their descendants.  We are related, yes, but the pursuit of their lives and their offspring is not our primary concern.

A few years ago I received a packet of pictures which included  a number of the offspring of my great great grandmother.  William H. Lawson was among them.  I know from his mother's obituary that he was "a well-known shoe repairman" in Big Stone Gap.   From the photo I infer that he not only could sole your shoes he could block your hat and "French dry clean" your whatever,   whatever that is.  The picture is really cool though.

Word of the day:  infer
STSTT post #2200

*French dry cleaning is a process whereby hand spotting and hand pressing and close attention to detail is employed. I looked it up.

Grandma, meet Grandma #T

I met a man the other day who said he was from East Tennessee.  I told him my mama's people were from East Tennessee.  Something in common.  We shared a few stories.  I told him an abbreviated version of this one.

My mother's uncle, her mother's youngest brother, married my mother's daddy's first cousin, a relationship which has no bearing whatsoever on the story, but it is interesting and something for you to puzzle over.  Mama's cousin, a granddaughter of this couple, told me this story many years after both the elders had passed.  She said

I did not know my grandmother chewed tobacco  until many years after her death. Grandpa and Grandma had dressed for an ocasion and Grandpa had gone ahead, was sitting behind the wheel of the car waiting, as men are wont to do.  Grandma came to the car, opened the door and got into the seat.  She reached back, pulled the door closed and died.  Grandpa realized she was gone and reached over, tenderly removed the chaw from her mouth.

Grandma was fifty-five years old.

My new acquaintance then shared this tale.

Our family has a big ol' reunion in the hills ever' summer. Always have eighty, hundred or more people.  To raise funds to continue the tradition we have an auction every year, the items mostly being family trinkets or heirlooms which get returned to the sale time and time again.  The item that brings in the most cash, ever' year for the past several years, is Granny R's spitcan.  She was the matriarch of the clan and has been gone now for twenty years.  Last year the can brought seven hundred dollars! 

Word of the day: chaw