My mother was not exactly forthcoming about her family's history; I do know that there were some bad feelings between some of the siblings, but I haven't yet learned who was involved, what happended, etc. She and her closest siblings are now all gone, and it is likely that I'll never know the entire story. I have some older cousins left who may be able to shed some light... But one of them has already said that she had no idea why our mothers kept the family history such a secret. It is fairly obvious that there is at least one skeleton in the closet. In the early 20th century this might have been the way to deal with it, but today, it almost makes me mad that there were family members that I never even knew about. Family members who could have told me sweet stories about my mother's childhood. Family members who could have introduced me to their own expanding families. I have first cousins who were adults when I was but a child.
However, I have been doing some geneology work on the Starbuck side of my family and have successfully linked to the Massachusetts Starbucks. I was close to accomplishing this in 2004, but was at least 1 generation away. As it turned out, I was 3 generations away. In Dec. 2011, I made some discoveries in the Starbucks which pulled it all together for proving to me that we were actually related to them. Mom had told Aunt Marilyn that she had plenty of relatives in Nantucket, but she provided no data to back it. I was sooo close in making the connection, and it wasn't until I went to the brother of one of direct ancestors that I was able to make that final connection. Old census records had bad information, stating that this one Starbuck ancestor was from North Carolina. Had that been true, then there was no link to Massachusetts. But I found one record listing a brother, and the brother listed the birthplace as Massachusetts, and he was younger than my ancestor. What I think has happened is that, because my family has a long lineage of farmers, the man was in the field when the census takers came. Knowing that their mom was from North Carolina, they assumed that their father was too, since he and their mother had wed there. Therefore, the story of him being from NC was perpetuated. There are too many Federal Census records with the same people listed for this not to be so.
I had heard the story that Mom was one of 10, comprised of His, Hers, and Ours, and that her sisters Anna and Beatrice were her only full siblings. Well, as it turns out there is some truth in the foregoing statements, but not the entire truth. Mom's father was married to another woman, and had 3 children by her. So that is the His Kids. He then married Mom's mother and they had 7 kids together. This means Mom had 7 full siblings and 3 half siblings. That gives the 10 kids. But there is no Hers kids, so that much of what I'd heard was wrong- or at least, it is wrong with what I've been able to find out so far. Stranger things have happened in geneology searches... I asked my brother about it, and he'd never heard that story. But he also had no clue that Mom had 9 siblings with 4 of them half-siblings).
We used to have Thanksgiving meals with some of Mom's relatives, but I always thought that Anna was her half sister. That part is false; Anna is her half-brother's wife, not Mom's half-sister. I'd also been told, or at least understood, that Mom's half-sister-in law Anna (wife of Earl) was older than Dad's mother. That doesn't seem to bear out as well. I don't know why we stopped going to Camden, or why we never had them to our house for holidays. Of course there were zero cousins and half-cousins my age; they were all several years older, so the visits were very boring to me. BORING!!! But I was probably 8 or 10 years old, so that was not exactly an outcome which should have been expected. After all, this half-brother was an adult when Mom was born...
I had started a trace on Mom's mother's side of the family, but hit a brick wall because I didn't know where her mother haled from lineage wise. I made an erroneous assumption that my brother and maternal cousins nearest me in age would be as ignorant as I was about the family, but in talking with them I have learned differently.
They have memories of Mom's parents and their elder cousins. Even after 60 some years after my mother's mother died, we are still finding out things about her that we didn't know. What a shame that I didn't get in to genealogy long before this; family members with knowledge are nearly non-existant, and so I try to gather as much data as I can, to be added to the family history. Even if I am unable to complete the job myself, there will be amble information for someone else to take up the challenge and finish the job.
Mercy, with birth records being what they are from the 1800s, it is a wonder that anyone can find out. There are alternate birth years, usually one or two years on either side of what I've already found, and that is to be expected. We have to rely on the memory of someone other than the ancestor in most cases. Birth dates were not so important even a hundred years ago, let alone two hundred or more. Sometimes a child would have no idea of when he/she was born simply because it didn't matter to the parents. It was, after all, the mother who imparted family history to her children, and with the fact that women often had 8 to 13 children, they didn't all have time to sit down and tell their offspring about the family. Survival was the name of the game. The present was what counted, not what went before. As for families being recorded in government records, well, if you didn't own property, you were a non-entity when it came to most records. Church records were the most common sources of family members, here in North America as well as in Europe. Were you fortunate enough to be from a well-to-do family, there would be housekeeping records and journals and letters, newspapers. Court houses and churches burn. State government building are destroyed by nature. Hospitals are damaged by storms, or merge with other hospitals, and records are lost or not considered relevant. I just found out that the 1890 Federal Census was burned, and there are but a few scraps left. Think of it - thousands and thousands of recorded lives no longer can be examined. The only way to find things from 1890 is to look at the state level census. Towns die and disappear and so do records of people living there. But so long as there is the internet, or whatever will someday replace it, the records of our lives won't be lost. I'm going all optimistic here and saying that we are not going to destroy ourselves, and that Dec. 21, 2012 is not going to be the end of the world -or at least the world as we know it. Our records will go on and on.
On thing which I have noticed is that not everyone maintains their online family records in the way that they should. A case in point is one family member I located who had multiple birth places, radically different birth dates, and multiple places of death. This person, according the family record I was purusing, was also married at least 4 times, a couple of times to different women at the same time. When these smoking guns were located, it required a significant amount of delving in to all these alternate records to locate which ones were relevant and which ones were not. What I assume happened was that they person researching her family tree found several people with the same first and last name in the same state. She added all records with no regard that there were at least 3 different people involved. She may have been in too big a hurry to realize that there were problems with all the information or was inexperienced enough not to know to really look at the data and figure out which sources were valid and which were irrelevant. I was able to locate my relative
in the midst of this chaos, and made certain that any incorrect records I had imported from this source were cleansed so that maybe someone else tracing down this family member might find the real deal. As good as Ancestry.com is when trying to find family members, people can and do enter invalid information which in turn sends those who come after looking up the wrong trees in the forest of family history.
We always want to connect to the past, and these electronic and digital records will continue to provide this connection. I don't and will not have any children who will carry on my side of the family. I'll just be the sibling of Eaton family member who has sent his genes forward - 3 generations worth now. But not being anyones direct ancestor is OK with me. I enjoy being the one who is taking up the challenge and linking all of us to our pasts.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Dad
DAD:
I never imagined that my first blog after the initial release of the blog for others to read would be such a painful one. You see, my dad died this past Monday, 2-20-2012, at age 95. The death was not unexpected; he'd survived a bowel resection 2 years ago, but started deteriorating from there. There were multiple episodes of hospitalization and nursing homes but he'd pull out of each one over these past two years. Except this final one. They released him from the nursing home back to the apartment on Sunday because they could not longer help him progress there, so he was placed in home hospice. The move back to the apt. was stressful on him, to say the least, but at least he was home in the apt. he shared with his wife of 29 years, Glory. The curtains of his bedroom were opened and he saw his greening rose brambles outside, and knew he was home. He knew that my brother and I were both there, with our spouses. I held his hand for quite a while, and fed him some orange sherbet. He loved orange sherbet. It was like feeding a baby bird as I spooned in small amounts...he had his mouth open for more before the previous spoonful was completely melted. I could almost here a "Cheep! Cheep! Cheep" in that bedroom!
Dad deteriorated overnight, after my brother and I had headed for our distant homes, and slipped into a coma on Monday. The home hospice nurse called us about his condition. I had to stop for gas for the truck en route back to Dad's, so that caused me a delay. Not wanting to be pulled over by the police on the interstate, I held to the speed limit. My brother arrived ahead of me since he lives nearer Dad. I was about 6 minutes away from Dad's when my brother told me to come straight in the patio door. And of course every delay that could happen in those six minutes did happen. The parking lot at the complex was very full and as I hurried towards the patio door of the apt. my brother was standing outside. When I crossed the drive into the grass he shook his head "no" and my legs suddenly went limp. Down I went to my knees as I started sobbing with the broken heart that possessed me in that awful moment. I had been calling out to God and to Dad to let me get there, to let me hold his hand one last time, but it didn't work out that way. I was close, so close. But he was gone.
After the first spate of crying subsided and I was able to take in the sight of him as he lay there in his bed, the one thing that I really noticed was that for the first time in months Dad's hands were warm. They had been so cold, and slightly purplish for so long. The same for his feet. Yet Dad swore that he was always too hot. The air conditioning in the apt. was turned on to help keep him cool. How odd that his hands were so warm to us immediately after he passed.
The world lost a great man when Dad died. He always put others ahead of him. He still gave up his seat and stood even when the person was younger than he was - and Dad had a balance problem that put him at risk for falls . Yet he'd give up his seat to another. He was a caring man, and he had the opportunity to be an attentive grandfather to his stepson's kids. He was always so busy with work when my brother and I were growing up. We knew that his hours were not ones he chose to work, but hours he had to work, that it was the nature of the job. I didn't notice it as much in grade school because of the early bedtime, but in junior high and high school Dad would be up out of the house before I got up to to to school, and he'd come home at night after I was in bed during the winter time. He did come home and eat supper with us but he had to go back to work afterwards. I knew the work was for other people, and that Dad was giving us a very comfortable lifestyle. Yet I did notice the lack of his presence oft times. And when my brother married and gave Mom and Dad two grandsons, Dad was still very busy. He didn't have the time to go to their ball games, mostly because of the distance involved to do so. But he was as active in their lives as he could be. Both nephews have great memories of his involvement in their lives. Dad retired a few years after Vaughn's kids were born, and therefore Dad had a lot
of time to spend with them. He relished the role of being their grandfather, a role that life's choices had somewhat robbed his of with his own son's kids; he had an opportunity not to miss out again, and he took it! It is not often that a man gets to lay grandfather to two different generations of grandkids.
If Dad had worked any less hard he would have been false to himself. He had a great work ethic, instilled in him by own parents, and passed that to his children. That work ethic provided us with a nice home, good food, and money left over to do things which we enjoyed. And he was generous to a fault. My brother told a story that I had never heard before; a woman was destitute and would be unable to buy any presents for her children, or to provide them with a holiday meal. All on his own Dad purchased relevant presents for that woman so that her children would not have a horrible Christmas. He had my brother deliver them so that the woman would not know who provided for her. This was done in a time when such generosity was not common. He ensured that those innocent children had a decent Christmas that year. It would not surprise me to find out that he did this more than once.
Dad was a loving man, and he loved my mother dearly. When cancer robbed us of her, I had to be the strong one and be there for Dad. I had to make sure that he was moving on with his life and wasn't left alone. We had a date every Tuesday to go out to a local restaurant for dinner. Those dates were good for both of us, and getting out in the public helped Dad heal. Half a year after Mom died, Dad decided to attend a singles group, and when he became active there I knew that I'd done my support job well; he was finally looking to the future instead of dwelling on the past. When Dad remarried a little over 2 years after Mom died, I was very happy for him because he found someone with whom to share his life, someone in good health and who would probably outlive him. The blending of the families was not always smooth, but Vaughn and his family treated Dad very well. Living minutes away from Dad, they were the ones who were there when Dad had to be taken to the hospital or emergency room. They were the ones who had to drive Glory back and forth to the hospital to visit Dad. Their proximity was important to him, and to Glory because my brother and I couldn't be there.
He was compassionate and devoted, strong and fair. He never complained no matter what was happening around him/to him.
He hated bothering the nurses and aides for things and therefore if he did ask, he really needed the service for which he was asking!
He was a kind man, a good man, and a loving husband and father. The near-loss of my mother some years before she finally passed frightened him, and it was not uncommon to see them holding hands when they were close to one another. Of course I had been much younger and may have missed seeing this some of the time, but I do know that they were more openly affectionate after we nearly lost Mom. And I know he treasured every hour with her that God granted her presence.
Dad was a gardener. Glory was the one who really involved him in it as they landscaped their home, and she gardened as long as her physical condition permitted her. Dad kept it up for a few more years, but each year he managed less and less, until it was time to sell their home and move in to an independent living retirement center. Even there he puttered around in the dirt outside their ground level apt., planting all sorts of flowers, and roses. He loved roses! He enjoyed the attention that they brought him. He had always been someone who talked easily with strangers and friends alike, and being outside the apt. brought him in to contact with many people. Last summer his physical strength was sorely taxed and he was not able to do very much at all in his small garden, and I know that he was terribly disappointed by it. Having to give it up was probably the beginning of the end for him, because he started going downhill rather rapidly thereafter.
Ironically, two weeks before his death, Dad made the comment to Glory and I that he had this feeling that he'd be feeling better come warmer weather, and he'd be back outside working in the yard. I was acutely aware of the fact that it was unlikely that he was going to leave the nursing home center alive, and it tore me apart to think that he wasn't going to be able to follow through. Glory and I looked at one another in shared pain. I managed to avert my eyes from Dad so he couldn't see the pain there, the pain of knowing that I was going to lose him probably before warm weather arrived.
Dad is not feeling any pain now, and if there is a garden in Heaven then he is most certainly working away in it. Maybe that was what he really trying to tell us - he'd be tending God's Heavenly garden in a few weeks! As it turned out, Dad did make it back to the apt., but he survived there for just over 24 hours. He was essentially but not totally bedridden. Perhaps it was the sight of his roses which allowed him let go of his tenuous grip on life. But even to the end, his gardening efforts were very important to him. He'd never had time to garden much until he retired...Now, he has all the time in God's Heaven to do so. I imagine that the flowers will be even more beautiful there now that he has shed his husk and gone Home to the Lord.
I'd bought him one of the Hallmark roses that opened and closed via a battery, and had given it to him so that he could have an ever lasting rose in his room. He kept having the home aides push the button so he could see it open, and close. I have that rose back with me now, and every time I see it I think of him, and of how he had Katie and Heather operate it for him. In the center of the rose was the message Love You Lots! Dad had that physical reminder of how much I loved him in his sight every day those last few weeks of his life.
The same day I gave him the rose was the day I started sitting on his bed, holding his hand. At one point me commented that it had been a long time since we'd held hands like that. And he was right; I had to have been a little girl well over 55 years ago. I made certain that every subsequent visit I sat there and held his hand for as long as it was comfortable for him to have it held, and take it up again a while later.
My dad was blessed with a long life. He was blessed by decent health for most of it. He was well blessed with many many friends, and couldn't go anywhere - even out of state - with running in to someone he knew. He had two wives who loved him, each in her own time of his life. He was married for a total of 74 years. He raised 2 children to be self-sufficient, and watched 4 grandchildren grow to adulthood and leave the nest. He met 7 of his nine great-grandchildren, and met the eldest of his two great-great-grandchildren. His own father passed at age 96, and his mother just shy of 99. Dad made the best of the time which was given him. We should all live our lives to this extent. And men should strive to be like him.
Gazing upon his stilled face, at peace at long last, I knew that Dad had not been racked with pain in his last few months of life. All of us had ample time to visit with him, to listen to his stories and tell a few of our own. We had given him implicit permission to let go of this life and journey into the next, where he would be reunited with his parents and the mother of his children. His family was with him at the end and didn't begrudge him his choice to go. Darrell said that he made a couple of sounds just before he ceased breathing, and I want to believe that he was greeting those who had gone before him, that he was welcoming path to the Light of our Lord's love, or perhaps, saying his final goodbye to all of us.
I never imagined that my first blog after the initial release of the blog for others to read would be such a painful one. You see, my dad died this past Monday, 2-20-2012, at age 95. The death was not unexpected; he'd survived a bowel resection 2 years ago, but started deteriorating from there. There were multiple episodes of hospitalization and nursing homes but he'd pull out of each one over these past two years. Except this final one. They released him from the nursing home back to the apartment on Sunday because they could not longer help him progress there, so he was placed in home hospice. The move back to the apt. was stressful on him, to say the least, but at least he was home in the apt. he shared with his wife of 29 years, Glory. The curtains of his bedroom were opened and he saw his greening rose brambles outside, and knew he was home. He knew that my brother and I were both there, with our spouses. I held his hand for quite a while, and fed him some orange sherbet. He loved orange sherbet. It was like feeding a baby bird as I spooned in small amounts...he had his mouth open for more before the previous spoonful was completely melted. I could almost here a "Cheep! Cheep! Cheep" in that bedroom!
Dad deteriorated overnight, after my brother and I had headed for our distant homes, and slipped into a coma on Monday. The home hospice nurse called us about his condition. I had to stop for gas for the truck en route back to Dad's, so that caused me a delay. Not wanting to be pulled over by the police on the interstate, I held to the speed limit. My brother arrived ahead of me since he lives nearer Dad. I was about 6 minutes away from Dad's when my brother told me to come straight in the patio door. And of course every delay that could happen in those six minutes did happen. The parking lot at the complex was very full and as I hurried towards the patio door of the apt. my brother was standing outside. When I crossed the drive into the grass he shook his head "no" and my legs suddenly went limp. Down I went to my knees as I started sobbing with the broken heart that possessed me in that awful moment. I had been calling out to God and to Dad to let me get there, to let me hold his hand one last time, but it didn't work out that way. I was close, so close. But he was gone.
After the first spate of crying subsided and I was able to take in the sight of him as he lay there in his bed, the one thing that I really noticed was that for the first time in months Dad's hands were warm. They had been so cold, and slightly purplish for so long. The same for his feet. Yet Dad swore that he was always too hot. The air conditioning in the apt. was turned on to help keep him cool. How odd that his hands were so warm to us immediately after he passed.
The world lost a great man when Dad died. He always put others ahead of him. He still gave up his seat and stood even when the person was younger than he was - and Dad had a balance problem that put him at risk for falls . Yet he'd give up his seat to another. He was a caring man, and he had the opportunity to be an attentive grandfather to his stepson's kids. He was always so busy with work when my brother and I were growing up. We knew that his hours were not ones he chose to work, but hours he had to work, that it was the nature of the job. I didn't notice it as much in grade school because of the early bedtime, but in junior high and high school Dad would be up out of the house before I got up to to to school, and he'd come home at night after I was in bed during the winter time. He did come home and eat supper with us but he had to go back to work afterwards. I knew the work was for other people, and that Dad was giving us a very comfortable lifestyle. Yet I did notice the lack of his presence oft times. And when my brother married and gave Mom and Dad two grandsons, Dad was still very busy. He didn't have the time to go to their ball games, mostly because of the distance involved to do so. But he was as active in their lives as he could be. Both nephews have great memories of his involvement in their lives. Dad retired a few years after Vaughn's kids were born, and therefore Dad had a lot
of time to spend with them. He relished the role of being their grandfather, a role that life's choices had somewhat robbed his of with his own son's kids; he had an opportunity not to miss out again, and he took it! It is not often that a man gets to lay grandfather to two different generations of grandkids.
If Dad had worked any less hard he would have been false to himself. He had a great work ethic, instilled in him by own parents, and passed that to his children. That work ethic provided us with a nice home, good food, and money left over to do things which we enjoyed. And he was generous to a fault. My brother told a story that I had never heard before; a woman was destitute and would be unable to buy any presents for her children, or to provide them with a holiday meal. All on his own Dad purchased relevant presents for that woman so that her children would not have a horrible Christmas. He had my brother deliver them so that the woman would not know who provided for her. This was done in a time when such generosity was not common. He ensured that those innocent children had a decent Christmas that year. It would not surprise me to find out that he did this more than once.
Dad was a loving man, and he loved my mother dearly. When cancer robbed us of her, I had to be the strong one and be there for Dad. I had to make sure that he was moving on with his life and wasn't left alone. We had a date every Tuesday to go out to a local restaurant for dinner. Those dates were good for both of us, and getting out in the public helped Dad heal. Half a year after Mom died, Dad decided to attend a singles group, and when he became active there I knew that I'd done my support job well; he was finally looking to the future instead of dwelling on the past. When Dad remarried a little over 2 years after Mom died, I was very happy for him because he found someone with whom to share his life, someone in good health and who would probably outlive him. The blending of the families was not always smooth, but Vaughn and his family treated Dad very well. Living minutes away from Dad, they were the ones who were there when Dad had to be taken to the hospital or emergency room. They were the ones who had to drive Glory back and forth to the hospital to visit Dad. Their proximity was important to him, and to Glory because my brother and I couldn't be there.
He was compassionate and devoted, strong and fair. He never complained no matter what was happening around him/to him.
He hated bothering the nurses and aides for things and therefore if he did ask, he really needed the service for which he was asking!
He was a kind man, a good man, and a loving husband and father. The near-loss of my mother some years before she finally passed frightened him, and it was not uncommon to see them holding hands when they were close to one another. Of course I had been much younger and may have missed seeing this some of the time, but I do know that they were more openly affectionate after we nearly lost Mom. And I know he treasured every hour with her that God granted her presence.
Dad was a gardener. Glory was the one who really involved him in it as they landscaped their home, and she gardened as long as her physical condition permitted her. Dad kept it up for a few more years, but each year he managed less and less, until it was time to sell their home and move in to an independent living retirement center. Even there he puttered around in the dirt outside their ground level apt., planting all sorts of flowers, and roses. He loved roses! He enjoyed the attention that they brought him. He had always been someone who talked easily with strangers and friends alike, and being outside the apt. brought him in to contact with many people. Last summer his physical strength was sorely taxed and he was not able to do very much at all in his small garden, and I know that he was terribly disappointed by it. Having to give it up was probably the beginning of the end for him, because he started going downhill rather rapidly thereafter.
Ironically, two weeks before his death, Dad made the comment to Glory and I that he had this feeling that he'd be feeling better come warmer weather, and he'd be back outside working in the yard. I was acutely aware of the fact that it was unlikely that he was going to leave the nursing home center alive, and it tore me apart to think that he wasn't going to be able to follow through. Glory and I looked at one another in shared pain. I managed to avert my eyes from Dad so he couldn't see the pain there, the pain of knowing that I was going to lose him probably before warm weather arrived.
Dad is not feeling any pain now, and if there is a garden in Heaven then he is most certainly working away in it. Maybe that was what he really trying to tell us - he'd be tending God's Heavenly garden in a few weeks! As it turned out, Dad did make it back to the apt., but he survived there for just over 24 hours. He was essentially but not totally bedridden. Perhaps it was the sight of his roses which allowed him let go of his tenuous grip on life. But even to the end, his gardening efforts were very important to him. He'd never had time to garden much until he retired...Now, he has all the time in God's Heaven to do so. I imagine that the flowers will be even more beautiful there now that he has shed his husk and gone Home to the Lord.
I'd bought him one of the Hallmark roses that opened and closed via a battery, and had given it to him so that he could have an ever lasting rose in his room. He kept having the home aides push the button so he could see it open, and close. I have that rose back with me now, and every time I see it I think of him, and of how he had Katie and Heather operate it for him. In the center of the rose was the message Love You Lots! Dad had that physical reminder of how much I loved him in his sight every day those last few weeks of his life.
The same day I gave him the rose was the day I started sitting on his bed, holding his hand. At one point me commented that it had been a long time since we'd held hands like that. And he was right; I had to have been a little girl well over 55 years ago. I made certain that every subsequent visit I sat there and held his hand for as long as it was comfortable for him to have it held, and take it up again a while later.
My dad was blessed with a long life. He was blessed by decent health for most of it. He was well blessed with many many friends, and couldn't go anywhere - even out of state - with running in to someone he knew. He had two wives who loved him, each in her own time of his life. He was married for a total of 74 years. He raised 2 children to be self-sufficient, and watched 4 grandchildren grow to adulthood and leave the nest. He met 7 of his nine great-grandchildren, and met the eldest of his two great-great-grandchildren. His own father passed at age 96, and his mother just shy of 99. Dad made the best of the time which was given him. We should all live our lives to this extent. And men should strive to be like him.
Gazing upon his stilled face, at peace at long last, I knew that Dad had not been racked with pain in his last few months of life. All of us had ample time to visit with him, to listen to his stories and tell a few of our own. We had given him implicit permission to let go of this life and journey into the next, where he would be reunited with his parents and the mother of his children. His family was with him at the end and didn't begrudge him his choice to go. Darrell said that he made a couple of sounds just before he ceased breathing, and I want to believe that he was greeting those who had gone before him, that he was welcoming path to the Light of our Lord's love, or perhaps, saying his final goodbye to all of us.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Going Public!
Initial Post - Going Public!
This blog will cover a variety of things, all relevant to me and many of them relevant to others in some manner. Some will be straight forward, others funny, and some will be sarcastic; I do speak Sarcasm fluently! It will cover my hobbies and other interests, past, present, and future. But most of all I hope to provide something worthy of your interest and worthy of being followed, and by the Grace of God, it will be so!
Writing comes very naturally to me, and I discovered my talent early in high school. I wasn't smart enough to focus my talents then, but college and life taught me to become more focused, and my personal style emerged.
The face of the blog may change as I try out the options and add pictures and things to make this a place you want to come to to entertained and educated. After all, I am a teacher at heart no matter what my line of work has been, going back to my high school years. I don't think that any of my old teachers would be surprised to find that out. I believe that I have something to say, and the only way to do this is to try out the blog. Who knows where this could lead?!
This blog is not going to be a timeline. There will be current events, world history, local history, personal history, and maybe even some ficticious delvings to see the reaction to those. I will be honest because I believe in facing reality, not in wearing "rainbow shades". I've weathered some severe tests and facing reality has gotten me through far better than burying my head in the sand ever did as a kid. I don't do things half-measure and try to face things head on, so expect some very passionate blogs if the topic warrants. I despise game playing, but life taught me how to become a player and win the game when forced to play it. And let me warn you - I am a bit of a bull-dog, and I don't like losing-but I do not stoop to dirty tricks. I rely on intelligence and skill to maneuver my way to a win, or at least a draw. Those traits are not endearing, but they do make life interesting!
So, welcome to My World - my thoughts, my desires, my prayers, my successes and even my failures. And I hope you will keep coming back.
This blog will cover a variety of things, all relevant to me and many of them relevant to others in some manner. Some will be straight forward, others funny, and some will be sarcastic; I do speak Sarcasm fluently! It will cover my hobbies and other interests, past, present, and future. But most of all I hope to provide something worthy of your interest and worthy of being followed, and by the Grace of God, it will be so!
Writing comes very naturally to me, and I discovered my talent early in high school. I wasn't smart enough to focus my talents then, but college and life taught me to become more focused, and my personal style emerged.
The face of the blog may change as I try out the options and add pictures and things to make this a place you want to come to to entertained and educated. After all, I am a teacher at heart no matter what my line of work has been, going back to my high school years. I don't think that any of my old teachers would be surprised to find that out. I believe that I have something to say, and the only way to do this is to try out the blog. Who knows where this could lead?!
This blog is not going to be a timeline. There will be current events, world history, local history, personal history, and maybe even some ficticious delvings to see the reaction to those. I will be honest because I believe in facing reality, not in wearing "rainbow shades". I've weathered some severe tests and facing reality has gotten me through far better than burying my head in the sand ever did as a kid. I don't do things half-measure and try to face things head on, so expect some very passionate blogs if the topic warrants. I despise game playing, but life taught me how to become a player and win the game when forced to play it. And let me warn you - I am a bit of a bull-dog, and I don't like losing-but I do not stoop to dirty tricks. I rely on intelligence and skill to maneuver my way to a win, or at least a draw. Those traits are not endearing, but they do make life interesting!
So, welcome to My World - my thoughts, my desires, my prayers, my successes and even my failures. And I hope you will keep coming back.
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