The stormy clouds finally cleared and the sunshine has been abundant since Thursday. It was still gray and gusty on Tuesday when I met up with my brother, aka Brother, for lunch at Olive Garden. It was a make-up date from Christmas and an early celebration of my February birthday. We try to get together every couple of months and I always look forward to it.
I love swapping stories with Bro. He does have a name — Rick — but I have called him Brother since I learned to talk. He’s almost six years older than me, happily married for nearly 57 years, three daughters, eight grandchildren — just a great guy.
Other than that foray to the East Side, we’ve been home. We set up a little picnic down at the firepit in the grove on Friday and spent some time staring at the fire.
Oh, but the birds continue to fascinate us. The hawk has given up on our feeders since we moved them under the porch and no squirrels have attempted to raid them, so we’ve left them there.
The sunshine makes such a difference in attitude, doesn’t it? I feel like my battery is fully charged! Hope you’re feeling energized in your neck of the woods.
The wheel is turning and we can’t slow down… My New York Irish Dancer grand-daughters both had birthdays last week. Eliza, my #3 grandie, turned 13 on the 21st; Emma, my #1 grandie, turned 18 on the 24th. I am a little dizzy thinking about how the time has flown. They are gems in my crown and their futures look so bright that I gotta wear shades…
My #1 and #3 grandies,
Emma Magnolia Mayne Jose:
Eliza Belle Mayne Jose:
The old seasonal celebrations, passed down from ancient times, inform us that we will be celebrating the half-way mark of winter this week. Nearly every ancient culture divided the year into four parts marked by the Winter Solstice, the Vernal Equinox, the Summer Solstice and the Autumnal Equinox. Today, we still recognize these as demarcating our seasons. Our ancestors further divided the year at the halfway points between the solstices and the equinoxes. These divisions are the Cross Quarter Days: Feb. 2, May 1, Aug. 1 and Oct. 31. You probably recognize those Cross Quarter Days as Groundhog Day, May Day, and Halloween, though August first is usually just another hot day in Southern Indiana…
The ancients did not call it Groundhog Day, though I’m sure they would have loved the movie; they called it Imbolc. Punxsutawney Phil’s emergence may advise us whether we celebrate only 6 more weeks until Spring, or commiserate 6 more weeks of winter, but I’m going to celebrate the three hours of daylight we have added since that shortest day on December 23. This winter has been foggy and gloomy lately, and we need a little perking up. Folks of yore sure did like their bonfires and we’re going to stir one up this week. The temperatures are predicted to be balmy and I’ll be happy to get outside…verrry happpy to go outside.
The toe is healed, I’m getting around like a champ, and I’m ready for my own birthday month. The Jubilee Year wasn’t quite up to snuff for me, so I’m considering making them all a Jubilee. How ’bout it? Let’s dance… I’ve got plenty of room on my dance card…
I’ve been putting it off for a couple of months, waiting until “after the holidays”, so I saw the podiatrist last Thursday to remove an ingrown toenail. So exotic, eh? I’ll spend the next 2-3 weeks propping up the old gam, doing daily epsom salt foot soaks, and limping around in my birkenstocks. It’s a good time of year for this, as I’m not a fan of cold weather, and I ‘m ready to surge ahead with my Goodreads book challenge, whilst watching videos trashing Harry & Meghan on YT, and snacking. Such fun…
Oh, the Birds are fun, too. We’ve had a Cooper’s Hawk hanging ’round for a while now, but he/she mostly stayed back in the wood line. Recently, we’ve spotted him/her very close to the feeders, though the birds seem to be aware of her/his presence. In case you didn’t know, Hawks feed on other birds, especially ground-birds like robins, doves, etc. but they’ll eat songbirds right off the feeders if they can. At feeding time we host 3+ dozen birds, usually cardinals, titmice, finches, wrens, and woodpeckers, all of which would make a nice treat for a hawk, so we moved the feeders to hangers under the south porch where the hawks can’t swoop to them. They like a nice gray squirrel, too, and I wonder if that’s why we haven’t seen many of them lately.
I should be able to get the next chapter of my “Mayne Saga” published this week. That will be over at “All My Ancestors” and you’re always welcome to visit. Most of my writing goes on over at that blog, but you really can’t tell because it’s mostly edits. I’d like to put it all in print this year, so that’s where the intense scribbling is happening…and why this little journal is so boring…
It’s getting wintry around here…bundle up and stay warm!
2023 gave us such a rough ending, so we are grateful to turn the page and move on. The Jubilee year wasn’t much of a Jubilee, actually. Seems like everybody jumped on the bandwagon and turned 70 in uniquely fun ways, both intimidating and inspiring. I learned so many lessons last year, a surprise since I thought I’d just about figured it all out, but from my current perspective, there’s still so much more. So, Welcome 2024, a fresh slate, a blank page, full of possibilities…
I hope to blog more on this blog in 2024. I have been keeping busy editing and researching my family tree over at All My Ancestors, neglecting this little community. I truly appreciate those of you who read my words and continue to follow me, though the posts are sporadic. . Thank-you from the bottom of my heart.
My “motto” for 2024 comes from Rabbi A.J. Heschel:
Today is the Winter Solstice, and here in our neck of the Northern Hemisphere there will be 5 hours, 16 minutes of daylight — thankfully we’ve had some sun. Now begins the entrance of the Light, adding minutes of brightness each day until June. I always feel quite relieved at the Solstice, as if I’ve passed a test by still being in my right mind, such as it is.
We flew from Nashville to NYC last Friday for our Annual Christmas in New York with the Jose’ Fam. On Saturday we headed to SoHo for some shopping, stopping first at a random restaurant, Jack’s Wife Freda. Great restaurant, if you ever have the chance. The girls picked out their Christmas presents, Melissa, Casey, and I went to a Maira Kalman pop-up, and we came back to the casa.
That evening, the daughter and I went back to midtown and watched “& Juliet”. It was great, made you laugh, tap your toes, and even think.
The next morning, we hit Radio City Music Hall for the 10am performance of the The Rockettes Christmas Spectacular, viewing the show from our usual third mezzanine seats, sipping Jameson and ginger, singing along with Hark! the Herald! It was our 18th visit — would have been 20 except for the Covid — and it has gotten better each year, adding more great choreography.
As is our tradition, we met the guys over at Bill’s Burgers, where they had already wrangled a big table. We had just ordered our food and gotten our drinks when Melissa got a phone call. I watched as she burst into tears, crying out Oh, No, and telling the person on the other end she’d be right there. She was melting with tears and grief as she told us that Michelle, Aunt Mich to the Emma and Eliza, had died sometime in the night. We knew little more than that for a long while after. Melissa took off to help Michelle’s husband and kids (who call her Aunt Mel). We sat there, stunned, and cried. Unbelievable. ·
From Melissa’s FB page…
It is with deepest sadness and grief that we must share the news that Michelle Starrs Bissell, beloved mother, wife, daughter, and friend, passed away suddenly on the morning of December 17.
Anyone who knew Michelle knows that she was a beacon of kindness and love, a brilliant talent, an absolutely devoted mother, and so much more; a bright light to all she encountered. Please hold Abram, Ella, Ava, Susan, and all of Michelle’s dear family in your hearts; we appreciate your love & support as we begin to navigate this unthinkable loss.
Memorial arrangements/details to follow in the new year.
Yesterday was my daughter’s 49th birthday. She and her friend always celebrated together and had already planned to see some shows next month. Michelle would record “Happy Birthday” with her daughters and send it to her. I wish I could take away her pain. Insert cliche’ here.
The Wink grief had gotten me behind on Christmas gifts for the Jr girls, but we’re going to the Mall tomorrow for lunch and some shopping. We’re going to make snickerdoodles, too, so here comes the sugar-bingeing.
Sorry to bring ya down. I’m working on getting back up.
This has been one of the saddest, toughest weeks of my long life. Casey and I decided together that it was time and made an appointment with the vet, who was out of town until today. So today is the day.
In 2011, I wrote a story about Wink going missing, telling the story of how the little imp came to live with us:
geez, why do we have pets??? as if people-relationships aren’t enough, we crave the domesticated animal to feed and stroke. so it was that i came to own a 1-eyed cat called wink. my aged feline, the legendary Sonny (of Sonnystone Acres fame) died at the venerable age of 16-or-so…i was volunteering at the lutheran school library when the librarian noted my distress and decided that i should take on a new kitten. this kitten had been thrown out on her countryside property with its eye hanging out of its socket. her brother is a veterinarian (which is why she gets a lot of throwout-animals) so she took it to him. at first, they tried eyedrops and such, but finally his eye was removed and when i met him he was about 3 months old and his stitches were still covering his missing orbit. he was playful and seemingly unaware that he was different—i fell in love and brought him home. he hides…especially from children (who i think may have contributed to the eye-loss). he’s a Great friend…loves feet…vigilant protection from lizards…always hungry. he never went outside of the house, but when we built the screened-in back porch we would keep the window open so he could go from the kitchen in and out. i’ve never seen him try to get out of that porch, though he runs wildly window to window when critters come near. i’m thinkin’ he must have been planning this escape…like the shawshank redemption…he probably would wait until we were soundly asleep and throw himself at the screendoor (held shut by a snap-latch) until…last night…he finally broke out….
he won’t talk about where he’s been for the last 24 hours. we just kept checking, listening, and finally he showed up at the screendoor…hungry…”okay, rub me, but feed me Now”…he’d lost his collar (we put his old leopard-skin-bell back on)…i’m pretty sure he’s going to write a book, though, so i’ll let you know.
His was a wonderful life, loved by all, but especially by his Mom and Dad. We were empty-nesters and he was our baby. He was well-traveled, going from New Mexico to Tennessee (he saw a bear!) and three times to Disney World, where he saw the fireworks every night.
He has been my sleeping companion, my shoulder to cry on, my beloved familiar. “Give momma a kiss” I would say and he’d oblige as I puckered up and his scratchy tongue licked my nose. My morning routine began with feeding him; my night-time routine ended with him cuddled nearby.
He’s been trying to die on his own, and maybe if I didn’t have to go to NYC, he would have, but this is the way it has to be. I am bereft.
Y’all know what I’m talking about, don’t you? Let’s join together to beam out Love for all of our pets, living or not. They are a precious gift in this life.
He liked to lay on the dining table and watch me write…
He loved Christmas
Wink’s last picture, with bowls…
I wrapped him up in a blanket and carried him in my arms to the vet. He laid his head down on my shoulder and trusted me. Because he was so dehydrated, they couldn’t get a vein, so it was best that I let them take him back and do the procedure without me. He offered no resistance. They carried him back wrapped in a blanket and we brought him home. Casey had already dug the hole and the gravestone was ready. He rests easy now.
“How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.” –Winnie The Pooh
Geez, this is heart-wrenching. May Peace be with us all…
Of course, you did! It’s been over a month since I regaled you with News from Sonnystone Acres, and I apologize for leaving you hanging there, waiting with bated breath, wondering what’s goin’ on in my fascinating life.
We started November out by celebrating the Days of the Dead aka All Saints/Souls Days at the Marion Church Cemetery. I’d been up there with my brother a couple of weeks earlier and had noticed that many of my ancestors’ graves were quite black. We did some research on gravestone cleaning and spent a few hours there using Wet ‘n Forget. I made some videos telling the stories of the people buried under the graves we were cleaning, namely my great-uncles Chester and Herbert, and great-aunt Nellie. The next day — seriously, the very next day — I discovered I had Aunt Nellie’s story All Wrong, so I’ll have to make a new video when we return. The WetnForget is supposed to work over time, and we’re excited to go back up there this week.
Researching my ancestors took up a lot of my time. I managed to publish a newly-revised bio of my great-great-great-grandfather, Benjamin Franklin Mayne on November 9, and moved on to my great-great grandparents, Emma and Leander. I thought I knew their whole story and would only be editing the previous version, but surprise! (no surprise) my research uncovered new info. Still a work in progress…
Cousin Lana and I attended the UE performance of the musical Rent on the 19th. They did a great job and the girls’ voices were impressive. We always enjoy the Sunday matinee; flat Ronna didn’t make the trip this time…
Thanksgiving was fun! The Jrs were here for the Macy’s Parade and some lunch….
My old man had a birthday, #69… He is such a baby, never catches up with me no matter how I try to lag behind and wait for him. Sure glad he was born…
December 2 found us (Casey, Samantha, and me) at the New Harmony Christmas Parade. A lot of firetrucks, tractors, and even a marching band this year! entertained us.
But The Grinch stole the show…
All this time, Wink has been giving us a lot of consternation. His eating slowed, he slept more, seemed out-of-it, but no real complaint or pain. By Thanksgiving, he couldn’t make it upstairs to his catbox anymore, so we moved it to our bedroom, but now he’s not pooped in ages and barely pees. He can no longer jump. He’s stopped eating, though we try to feed him anything we can think of. He does drink water. He can’t move his legs too well, but he insists on going out on the back porch every morning, even went out on the front porch the other evening. We look for any sign that he might get better, but at the ripe old age of 19 1/2 years, it’s doubtful. Because we’re leaving for NYC on the 14th, we feel like we have to make a decision on his future. We’re just so sad.
Sorry to leave you on that low note, but it’s Reality…and Reality bites. Thank goodness we’re in the Christmas Season and have family get-togethers and such to distract us. Who could be uncheery while watching the Rockettes?
It’s been unseasonably warm, but seasonably beautiful this past week. We walked through scrunchy red and yellow leaves, admiring the sunlight through the canopy of colour, grateful to have such beauty in our backyard.
If I were a bird, I would fly about the Earth seeking the successive autumns.
George Eliot…
Now the rainstorms have arrived, and tonight a cold front will push through, plummeting the temps below freezing. The heater is in the birdbath, feeders are full, ready for a season of caring for our feathered friends. The gardens are stripped down to seed-heads, and the herbs are potted and safely ensconced in the conservatory. Wood smoke fills the air and we’re ready to hunker down for a spell.
Nova, Samantha, and I have a date to see “The Nighmare Before Christmas” at the theatre today. We don’t get trick-or-treaters here at the manse, so this is my chance to eat candy!
Hope it’s warm and cozy in your neck of the woods…
I just can’t seem to get this column written weekly. My best excuse is the beautiful Autumn weather, perfect for a stroll through piles of crunchy leaves; warm temperatures and blue skies, inviting me to go outside and play. We’ve got just two more days of it and I’m making every moment count.
When we were up in Yellow Springs, Ohio, we visited a place called Young’s Dairy, renowned for its ice cream and full of the usual pumpkin and apple butters and pies. They have a corn maze and give regular hayrides in the Fall, so the parking lots were overflowing on the week-end, but we stopped in on an early morning Tuesday for some pictures.
Young’s is about a mile or so from another major Fall Attraction: Yellow Springs Sunflower Fields. We loved it so much that it will become an annual visit.
I hope to take advantage of this weather to do my “Day of the Dead” work at the Southern Illinois cemeteries. Yeah, I’m obsessed. My brother and I visited about a month ago and I discovered several of the graves are past the point of reading. I’ve done some study and we’re going to try to clean up a couple. I’ll let you know how it goes, you can bet!
Hope you’re enveloped in the warm colors of Autumn where you are!
Our Ancestor Archaeology has completed Phase 1. It was Hot, but an otherwise perfect day. Casey is a wizard with a hatchet and I’m pretty good at hauling off limbs, so I’m really proud of what we accomplished.
Let me tell you the whole story, copying from past blogs…
First visit to Emery Chapel Cemetery, 9-14-2023:
We took a mid-week trip to Ohio to visit the church founded in 1854 by my 4x great-grandfather, Adam Mayne. The building has been, of course, altered since then, but still sits in the same spot. There is also a cemetery where Adam was buried in 1857, possibly the first person to be buried there. Y’all know how much I love cemeteries and I was pretty excited to see this Major Patriarch’s gravesite, so imagine how bewildered I was to find that a tree – at least 50 years old — had grown up in the center of the Maynes’ headstones, a shrub had sprouted that added to the damage, covering several, and that the base of the tree was being used to throw broken limbs like it was a trash heap!!!
I was devastated. There were two guys working on the door of the church and I tried not to sound too hysterical when I expressed my dismay. They immediately recognized Adam’s name as their founder and took me inside to show me a glass case with a picture of Adam and Catherine, their bio, a picture of the original church, a plaque that honored him —
One of the reasons I want to be cremated and my ashes spread around is because I believe that a gravesite becomes a responsibility of your descendants, but that’s a way old-fashioned idea and who knows what my 4x great-grandchildren will think? I regularly visit five burial grounds in Southern Illinois, some down gravel roads or in the middle of cornfields, As I’ve haunted the cemeteries, I’ve never seen one so neglected, outright violated like this one, and I am moved to correct the situation. Keep your fingers crossed that the church-people will let me, because I have a Plan…
The church/cemetery is about 5 miles from John Bryan State Park where we camped. It’s a nice park and adjacent to Yellow Springs, a busy little village with a Hippie Vibe, interesting shops and restaurants. There are various and sundry nature preserves, biking trails, and even springs–ha! As part of the Plan, we’ll be happy to stay there again.
from “The Plan” posted 9-24-2023:
Thought I’d fill you in on my “cemetery rescue plan”…which is more like a “gravestone rescue plan”. I spoke with the Pastor of the church my 4x great-grandfather founded and he is fine with us going in and cleaning up the area where my Greats are buried. He was unsure about cemetery regulations, but I pointed out that I’m not going to actually Move anything, just uncover them and try to piece them back together. He offered the help of the church, talked about a re-dedication service when we have finished, and asked me to give a little talk about Adam and my other grandfathers who were central to the history of their church.
This is what Emery Chapel looked like in 1854
And now from our last trip, October 1-3, 2023
We felt a bit hurried by the changing weather, especially since the cemetery is North of our locale and frosts are imminent. Fall is a time when campsites are full-up, so we were lucky to find a couple of nights available October 1-3. It’s a nice 4.5 hour drive and we took off last Sunday morning.
I’m so proud of what we accomplished! I already knew that the gravestone of Sarah Ellis Mayne, my 3x great-grandmother, wife of B.F., was broken, but its engraving was still clear. I knew that other stones had been thrown in a heap under the shrub that was allowed to grow right through Sarah’s grave. We had not located Adam’s grave at all, though 4x great-grandmother, Catherine, and B.F.’s 2nd wife, Elizabeth, were both intact, sort of. All of these stones had originally been upright.
Here it is in pictures, best I could do…
This is before of the broken stones thrown into the bushes…
A work in progress as Casey dug out the shrub and used the weed-eater…
Before and After…
Can you believe the difference? What was most rewarding for us was finding the stone of Tobias and Emory, two of Sarah’s children who had died in infancy. Their stones had been thrown under the shrubs, (see the white ones above) so I don’t know where they originally stood. Sarah’s marker was a pretty even break, so we laid it down on the original base, leveled it, and put the babies’ stones at her head. I heard angels singing as we reunited the mother and infants.
Emory’s name is on the other side…
One of the broken stones looked to be the bottom third, showing an illegible epitaph, of a larger grave that we assumed had been Adam’s. We also found a hand-size broken “rock” with an A and part of an M engraved on it, so I figure it’s probably going to be like a jig-saw puzzle.
Adam’s gravestone
It was a great day and after a shower back at camp–the shower nozzle was the size of a sink faucet and sprayed everywhere except on me, so I did a little dancing–we enjoyed an even in camp with hot dogs and fire-staring…
As we were leaving, we made one last trip by the cemetery. As we checked and admired our work, we noticed a stone sticking up – it almost tripped me, and ran down to grab a shovel. Sure enough, it is Adam’s stone, I think, but we didn’t have time to do a total excavation. We covered it back up and started planning to return.
Reuniting Sarah with her babies has brought me great joy. My ancestors haunt me in the best way, so I know that Adam is thrilled we took care of that first. Now it’s his turn and I’m so honored. We’re planning a return trip in the Spring…
Oh, yes, while we were working, a neighbor and church member came by and told us where Travelers’ Rest by A. Mayne was located! Just 3/4 mile down the road, there is a golf course where my family’s stagecoach stop stood nearly 200 years ago! No wonder I feel at home there.
We’re getting ready to fire up the wood burner, watching for the leaves to color up, and spending these cool days doing the Autumn chores in the garden. Hope you’re feeling cozy in your neck of the woods.
The News from Sonnystone Acres 