We met up with the Jrs at Ellis Park last Sunday for the final race of the season. I can’t win a bet to save my life, but Casey did alright, as did Samantha!
I had surgery on Tuesday to re-center my left optical lens and it went well. This time around the anesthesia left me drugged for a couple of days, more than in the past. Maybe I’m just getting old? After my follow-up appointment on Wednesday, we walked over to the downtown Market on Main. I’ve been meaning to visit since it started up in June, however, it doesn’t look like I’ve been missing much.
Anyway, I did drag around the garden, trimming and uprooting, harvesting, and arranging. Fall is in the air, and both gardens are finishing up their service.
My son, Michael, will be 44 on Wednesday, but we’re celebrating today at our usual celebrating place, so I’ll cut this missive short.
Family Stories will be a blog about the lives of my shirt-tail ancestors – aunts, uncles, cousins – and I’ve got some good tales to tell. For the Introductory post, I introduced myself and said a few words about my other ancestry blog. Looking for a photo of some sort, I came across a prose poem that hit me in my heart.
It appears that Della Joann McGinnis Johnson probably wrote the original version of this, but others may have edited/contributed. Whoever it was, I thank them. I’m happy to report that I’m not the only crazy person who feels the presence of their ancestors – even consulting with them – and who views graveyards as living things. This explains it…
THE STORY TELLERS
We are the chosen. In each family there is one who seems called to find the ancestors – to put flesh on their bones and make them live again, to tell the family story and to feel that somehow they know and approve. To me, doing genealogy is not a cold gathering of facts but, instead, breathing life into all who have gone before. We are the story tellers of the tribe. All tribes have one.
We have been called by our genes. Those who have gone before cry out to us: tell our story. So we do. In finding them, we somehow find ourselves. How many graves have I stood before now and cried? I have lost count. How many times have I told the ancestors you have a wonderful family you would be proud of us? How many times have I walked up to a grave and felt somehow there was love there for me?
I cannot say.
It goes beyond just documenting facts. It goes to who am I and why do I do the things I do. It goes to seeing a cemetery about to be lost forever to weeds and indifference and saying I can’t let this happen. The bones here are bones of my bone and flesh of my flesh. It goes to doing something about it. It goes to pride in what our ancestors were able to accomplish. How they contributed to what we are today. It goes to respecting their hardships and losses, their never giving in or giving up, their resoluteness to go on and build a life for their family. It goes to deep pride that they fought to make and keep us a Nation. It goes to a deep and immense understanding that they were doing it for us. That we might be born who we are. That we might remember them. So we do. With love and caring and scribing each fact of their existence, because we are them and they are us.
So, as a scribe is called, I tell the story of my family. It is up to that one called in the next generation to answer the call and take their place in the long line of family storytellers. That is why I do genealogy, and that is what calls those young and old to step up and put flesh on the bones.
Because I love writing this Report, because the format of “that was the week that was” is easy, because my loyal readers enjoy even the boring parts, I keep on truckin’. But, honestly, I want more people to read my stuff. I’ve got some stories to tell and they’re good ones. Hang with me while I get them written and published over at Family Stories. Until I get going, there’s a lot of good reads at All My Ancestors.
We’re off to the Races today with the Jrs (minus Nova, who has to work)! It’s perfect weather, and I’m feelin’ lucky…
Our #3 grand-daughter, Eliza Belle Mayne Jose, graduated from 8th grade on Thursday. She will continue on to 9th grade at the same school, Avenues The World School, so it’s called a “Stepping Up” celebration. We watched on Vimeo and I wasn’t much impressed with the videography, but when my beautiful grandie walked up to pick up her certificate, I felt that overwhelming surge of emotions where your heart swells up and pushes tears out of your eyes. I love this girl more that words can say – well, you know that. When she was little, we would do a pretend morning show together. She was the OG musical.ly and would often facetime me so I could watch her latest choreography, usually to music that made me blush. She was born with a fabulous sense of fashion and she’s the one who I consult on which sneakers to buy. I’ll get to see her at the end of July and I can hardly wait.
Happy Fathers’ Day to all the Dads out there! I had a good one, but he’s been gone 28 years now. He would visit me every Wednesday, an event we dubbed “Music Night”. He would play the uke and we’d sing; he’d have me play the piano and we’d sing; I’d play some good tunes on the stereo and we’d sing.
Me and Dad at the Eaton Family Reunion, Grayville, IL 1979
We also drank and smoked and talked and laughed and sometimes argued, but we’d always end up singing. I haven’t done much singing since he died and my voice has gone to hell, but in my mind those harmonies still play.
Had my second cataract removal on Tuesday and it’s gone well – not as well as the right eye – but every day is more clear. I expect I’ll be seeing a lot of fog soon, anyway.
“Surely we’ve had enough rain this week to last us a couple”, I wrote last week. Surely we did, but the ever-whimsical Spring disagreed and brought us a deluge of four inches on Friday, another 1.5 on Saturday. Luckily, we had most every plant staked or propped and there was very little damage to the gardens.
I would have preferred to be sitting in a lawn chair at the Handy Festival, but since our Entire Day here at Sonnystone was decidedly un-sunny, I assumed it was the same over in Henderson. I was soo disappointed when I found out on the evening news – rain still pouring outside my window – that it was sunny and dry just across the river.
Here comes the humidity! We still haven’t turned our a/c on, but looks like we will soon. I’m beginning to start moving books off of shelves in the family room so we can pull up the carpet back there. Casey is restless if he can’t work outside, so this might be a good time to start.
We had a nice Thanksgiving with this crew, for whom I am eternally grateful.
We woke up to a couple of inches of fluffy snow this morning — nice touch, Cosmo, and very conducive to our ongoing (and on) hanging of the Greens.
Three more weeks of waning light until Earth’s wobble will turn us back toward the Sun and these incredible shrinking days will slowly begin to expand. Until then, it’s time to make the best of those 5 or so hours of daylight!
I’ve been writing out a monthly dopamine menu, which is a list of activities to do that trigger the release of dopamine, our homemade pleasure chemical, in the brain. December’s menu pretty much writes itself: Do All Things Christmas-y: Play the Music! Bake cookies! Buy Presents! Watch the sappy TV movies! Deck the Fa-la-la out of the Halls! I’ll be working in a trip to Grayville for a cousin luncheon, a visit to the Zoo and the Eville Museum, and Nova has a Vocal recital on the 14th. We’re planning a Winter Solstice Celebration on the 21st, hopefully lighting a Yule Log outside in my circle. Did I mention that my daughter has a birthday on the 20th? It’s going to be a lovely month, full of love and family.
Since Emma is not home from Colgate until 12/18, we have had to change up our 20-year-old Rockettes tradition–We will be going to a 5pm performance on Boxing Day (12/26). Casey and I will fly out of Nashville on Christmas morning and stay with the Joses until the 29th. We should have time this trip to visit the Met and the MOMA, something we’ve missed doing.
Our Christmas with the Jrs. will be December 22 and will include “Moana 2” — I can hardly wait. We have more plans with my Local girls in the next weeks, so I’ll keep you informed. I know you’ll be waiting with bated breath…
It’s a short Holiday Season this year, thanks to a “late” Thanksgiving. The “4th Thursday in November” makes our American Turkey Day a moveable feast that often intrudes on the Christmas season and this year is about as intruding as it gets.
Our current Thanksgiving Tradition is having the Jr. Family over in the morning to watch the Macy’s Parade. They arrive just before the parade starts, Dunkin’ Donuts in hand. In NYC, the Jose’ Fam are also watching, but Santa and the Mrs. appear on their screen an hour before they fly into our broadcast, a feat of time travel that I do not understand, but it’s true. We lay out a spread of sandwich-makings, some salads, veggies, and chips, and throw in pumpkin and dutch apple pies for dessert. We talk. We laugh. We play a game of some sort.
Our tradition is nothing at all like the Norman Rockwell tradition I grew up with, and I don’t deny that I miss the crowded tables and loud rooms of people of those days, but all those fine cooks have passed on and their grandchildren have children (and grandchildren) of their own.
After the games, the Jrs. have an evening Thanksgiving dinner to attend, and the NYers are either already in Philadelphia or on their way, so by 3pm, we’re alone with the leftovers…and the Christmas decorating begins! I really enjoy decking the halls with fa-la-la and a lot of buffalo plaid…
Casey’s #70 birthday month has been a good one, filled with weekly presents and trips. We’ll sing a rousing rendition of HB on Thanksgiving Day, put a candle in his pie, and wish him well. The actual b-day-date is Saturday, the 30th, and we’ll probably go out for dinner or something.
Celebrating at Loco Burro, Gatlinburg
While we were in Gatlinburg, we went to a hard cider tasting at Smokin’ Banjo. These fruit-based samplings were right up my alley; I really wanted to love the Banjo Blue, made from blueberries, but my favorite was Sweet Heat, a raspberry concoction with a hint of jalapeno. We were persuaded to buy two bottles so they would give us a free bottle of Peach, which was pretty good. Since Michael and Jess are teetotalers, I may have to enlist outside help with drinking these fermentations…
With each sunrise I am granted, I give Thanks for Everything and All — for my Loved Ones (that’s You), for the sun and the moon and the stars and the wise trees, for my home and its gardens and all that grows here, for the many critters and winged ones who feast at my buffet, for the gifts of music and books, for the comradery of marriage, for the wisdom of my ancestors, for the Peace and Joy in my heart.
Sunrise at Sonnystone Acres, November 24, 2024
The composer Aaron Copland left us the beautiful song, “The Promise of Living” from the opera “The Tender Land”, reminding us that Thanksgiving Day was originally a harvest celebration.
The promise of living with hope and thanksgiving Is born of our loving our friends and our labor.
The promise of growing with faith and with knowing Is born of our sharing our love with our neighbor.
The promise of loving, the promise of growing Is born of our singing in joy and thanksgiving.
For many a year we’ve know these fields And know all the work that makes them yield. We’re ready to work, we’re ready to lend a hand. By working together we’ll bring in the blessings of harvest.
We plant each row with seeds of grain, And Providence sends us the sun and the rain. By lending a hand, by lending an arm Bring out the blessings of harvest.
Give thanks there was sunshine, give thanks there was rain, Give thanks we have hands to deliver the grain.
O let us be joyful, O let us be grateful to the Lord for his blessing.
Hope you’ll be having a grand Thanksgiving week-end!
It’s a wrap, folks! The long-awaited, highly-anticipated visit from the NewYorkers lived up to its hype. Both the “Last Camp” and the Disney Trip were wildly successful, and despite the efforts of the weather gods to sabotage our plans, we danced in the rain… I have a newly-installed video editing program and will be creating a couple of movies to chronicle the Fun.
Emma, Eliza, Nova, and Samantha snapping beans…
We’re taking a breather, but our August calendar is beginning to fill in. The Bluegrass in the Park Folklife Festival is coming up this week-end over in Henderson. Sunday, the 11th, is my dil, Jessica’s birthday and Thursday, the 15th is my sil, Eric’s birthday — that’s a lot of cake right there. We will be celebrating 44 years of wedded bliss on the 15th and if weather permits we’ll be camping in New Harmony again.
It feels good to get back to the old routine, and I am looking so forward to doing more writing across all of my blogs. Follow me, kids, and you’ll have plenty to read this month…
Two Sundays ago, we were arriving in Disney World, meeting up with the Jose Family for 5 days of Fun. Despite the hellish weather, we had a Great Time!
Last Sunday, we were arriving home from our Trip, overwhelmed with laundry and catching up with the gardens. Now This Sunday, we’re waiting as patiently as we can for Melissa, Emma, and Eliza to arrive to spend the next 5 days with us!
This is most likely our last Camp Sonnystone, but it’s going to be Super. I will share with you next week. Thanks for following me, dear Friends.
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
We will drive Goldie back up to Yellow Springs next Sunday with shovels and trimmers and such, stay a couple of nights, and get as much done as we can.
Casey’s been splitting wood and I’ve been planting mums — very autumnal, doncha think?
It was a fiddly, accordion-y, hornpipe and reel kind of week at the North American Irish Dance Championships. The sparkles, the tans, the wigs were in abundance, along with Moms and Dads, Grandmas and Grandpas, Aunts and Uncles, and Super friend/fans. This isn’t exactly a sport, though it requires intense physical training, but perhaps the Olympics should add it. Every kid there — and there were around 3,000 competitors — had worked their heart out. My girls danced beautifully. Emma placed 7th (that’s in all of North America). Eliza was headed for the top 10 when she “bobbled” – almost fell – and the judges don’t allow that. Funnily, if she had actually fallen, she could have gone again, which seems wrong, but hey, I don’t make the rules. We had left to come home before she danced that set and I’m glad I wasn’t there. I was already feeling emotional, and my heart is broken to just hear about it.
I have avoided competitive activities because 1.) I get too nervous, like throwing up nervous before a performance; 2.) I hate to lose. 3.) Did I mention sick anxiety? I have the greatest admiration for anybody with enough gumption to get out there, work real hard, and try their best. To me, that place was full of winners.
My garden continues to be plagued with blossom end-rot, now involving the bell peppers. I didn’t have time to find some calcium before we left for Nashville, so we put some wood ashes around them, but it was a token effort. I’ve got some stuff coming from Amazon on Tuesday and I want to believe it’s going to fix everything. The thought of no homegrown tomatoes this year panics me.
The Peace/Bird Garden got some visits from deer – a Momma and two fawns – several weeks back, feasting on my garden phlox, and the birds have chewed the leaves of my sedum. I dug up a couple of phlox to put them into intensive care, replacing them with a couple of pots of lantana. The bird bath continues to be popular, the hummingbirds are buzzing around, the songbirds flock to the suet and sunflower feeders, keeping the garden in motion.
It’s comforting to see the bees…
In just a little over two weeks, the New Yorkers will be here! Since we had just a taste of the Joy that is All of our Family Being Together, I am thirsty for Camp Activities, Donut Bank, and simply Being Together. In the meantime, I’ve got some projects going, hopefully including a trip over to Carmi to see my friends’ garden and on to Grayville to spruce up Grandma and Grandpa Eaton’s grave. Stay cool, my friends!
We had our Family Christmas Wednesday and the Love was Everywhere!
It has been a wonderful year here at Sonnystone! Various and sundry ailments kept us from traveling as much as we would have liked, but we did go to London, a long-time dream! Our gardens weren’t award-winning, but I’m proud of the “new” firepit area that we designed and planted. Most important, we enjoyed the company of Family, Extended Family, and Friends throughout the year. I hope one of them was You, dear reader, and if not, why not?
The News from Sonnystone Acres 