THE MIERS FAMILY NAME

I am continuing with the story as I remember it about my my ex-late-husband, the father of my daughter, the grandfather of my grandchildren.  I said in a past post that he was an adopted child.  These things are what I remember I was told by him and his family during the fifteen years that he and I were married.

When Bob was a newborn, Irene said that Homer was a 'company man' superintendent over an oilfield and that she and he lived in oilfield housing in Silsbee, Texas.  They had an adopted son, named Homer Sidney Miers that hey called "Bunn", short for bunny because he had a thatch of soft white hair. Bunn had several wives, and when I met him in 1966 he was living in Las Vegas married to Pat.  Bunn and his first wife, I think her name was Jackie or Monty had a son named Butchie but as far as I know he had no other children.  Butchie lived in Nashville, Georgia.  I don't know what happened to any of that part of Bob's family.  Eva told me once that Bunn was there when Irene died but that years later she went to visit him where he'd lived on one of the streets off the Evangeline thruway in Lafayette and that his old house had been torn down. When Bunn was about four years old, Homer and Irene adopted a second baby.  

A doctor friend of Irene's who oversaw the home for unwed mothers and orphanage located at the Texas Women's College in Denton, Texas called her to let her know that there was a baby available because a 15-year old girl who was giving her baby up for adoption.  I think that means Bob's mother would have been born in about 1926 but I have no information about her. Irene told me that Homer could not go with her, so she drove from Silsbee to Denton alone to get the baby boy and bring the newborn back to his new home.  Irene said that she filled out the birth certificate before she left the orphanage and that she named the baby after Dr. Robert Bruce.  . 

Irene said that Homer had a twin brother I think his name was Floyd.   One time Bob and I drove to Daisietta and visited his wife named Flo. She had two children, Bob's cousins.  We stopped in Beaumont and visited his cousin Charles, and his sister Angela came over for a few minutes to meet Bob's new wife.  I see on my "find a grave" that a Florence Kathryn Miers of Liberty County is buried in the Forest Lawn Memorial Park in Beaumont and I think she must have died.  

Homer was from Texarkana, TX and Bob and I went one time to visit the old 'homestead' which we thought we found from the address Homer had given us in southern Arkansas, but it was a tumbled down bare old shack and I don't know if I have any pictures of it.  I remember visiting with Bob's Aunt Drew in Texarkana but don't remember the names of the other Aunt or the Uncle who lived in Texarkana.  

I only little about Irene.  Her maiden name was Cupit and she was born in a little town in Mississippi. When she was just starting school, she said that her mother died and that her father remarried to a girl who was only fifteen, the same age as Irene's sister Christine.  I met Irene's stepmother when Eva was born.  They called her and her husband Mammie and Mike and they were from New Orleans.   Mammie had worked for years lining coffins with silk at a casket factory and she made some clothes for my newborn baby in the blink of an eye and she helped me resize my own clothes to make them fit after I had the baby Eva.  

I met Irene's sister, Bob's Auntie Chrissy once when he and I went to Union Church, Mississippi.  Her married name was Varnador and I remember meeting one of her sons, Rayford (I think was a "junior" and had his dad's name) who owned the one little store in the town of Union Church.  I met his teen aged children and his wife back in the mid 70's when Eva was in about the first grade.  Eva asked me about Rayford once and had me look in my journals from back in the day.  I thought she was going to try to find people who knew Irene, but she never told me anything more.  I remember telling her about meeting Irene's brother Tom Cupit and his wife Rosalee who lived in Beaumont.  I told her more about Irene's friends than her family because I'd helped Irene send out baby announcements to Alice and Howard Brock in Austin.  I sent letters to her friend Jo Boudreaux in Lake Charles and to another in Norman, Oklahoma named Maggie Thrailkill and she had a friend in Lafayette named Mary Foss. I remember Irene once telling me that her father had 13 kids, but I didn't meet any others.  Irene said that her oilfield 'family' was sometimes closer to her than her real family.  Irene told me stories about how wanting nothing more than to get out of Mississippi and that when Tom moved to Beaumont she did everything she could to be able to go stay with him and Rosalie until finally permission was granted.  Once, on a trip to Beaumont Irene and I went to a big old office building and Irene told me that when she was in her teens she was the elevator operator and that's where she met Homer because his oil company's main office was in that building and he rode the elevator and told her how beautiful she was whenever he got the chance.  Homer and Irene always seemed to be in love and she was very distraught when he died. After she sold the house she'd lived in for a quarter of a century on Rena Drive in Lafayette, she developed heart problems and Irene had open heart surgery and a heart valve bypass back in the day when it was a very new thing for a doctor to operate on a patient's heart.

I met Bob when he was 24 years old and I was 19.  Ours was not a love at first sight.  It was more like a curiosity about one another.  Bob was a good listener and asked me lots of questions about what it was like for me growing up.  He seemed to like hearing about my moving around from place to place.  Even though he was a man of few words, I liked listening to him tell me about growing up in Lafayette.  He showed me the house he lived in and the schools he went to and introduced me to lots of his friends.  He always made me feel like what he had to say was important because he didn't always have a lot to say. 

We married in 1966.  We drove to Orange Texas to get married because a 3 day wait was required after the blood tests were taken and the marriage license granted in Louisiana. Once the decision was made between us that we were going to get married, instead of waiting 3 days, we drove to Texas.  In Orange, the courthouse staff was happy to help us get the license and steer us toward a doctor who'd give us blood tests and they even helped with suggestions about what preachers might be available to perform a wedding ceremony. We were married in the First Methodist Church in Orange and the preacher's wife and the church secretary acted as witnesses.  We had not made many plans, so the honeymoon was a trip to Houston where Bob put in some applications to do oilfield work overseas and the wedding dinner was a trip to the White Castle.  We went by and visited my Aunt Denny and Uncle Narb in Houston though and got hugs and congratulations and we drank a toast to our new union.  Then it was back home to Lafayette, where we lived at Bob's parents' house while he looked for work and I looked for housing.

THE END OF THE LINE

DEATH MAY NOT BE PROUD BUT IT IS INTERESTING

Yesterday, while talking to my granddaughter, the granddaughter of my first husband, I realized that she didn't know where her grandfather came from and barely knew his full name.  Her mother, now deceased seemed to care very much about that branch of the family and used her maiden name, Miers all of her life.   Now I know I am on some kind of right path to delve through my memories so that there will be a little record of the things I know.  My first husband was adopted when he was a newborn so genetically speaking, I don't know very much about him.His name was Robert Bruce Miers (b.12/21/1941; d. 1986; buried beside his parents Homer and Irene Miers in Greenlawn Memorial Park in Lafayette, Louisiana.) There is no exact date of death in February, 1986 because the circumstances surrounding his death are not clear.  Because I had been divorced from him and had not seen him for five years, before he died, again I know very little.  Gossip, though, is a thing that people in southwest Louisiana thrive on, so I do know some things.

I got this tale from my sister in law who told me that her sister's boss' son found the body.  The boy was about 15 and was visiting someone who lived along Bayou Tortu in St. Martin Parish.  The boy borrowed a pirogue from the people he was visiting, and floating along down the bayou, digging in the water with a long stick, found a chain that he could not get loose, so he hung it over a branch and went on along the bayou exploring and fishing ...and later he came back to dislodge the chain he'd found.  When he finally got it loose, though, a hand floated up with the chain.  The boy was terrified, ran his boat up onshore and sprinted to a nearby farmhouse.  When the sheriff's department came, they loaded up the boy and his boat and took him home to his mother.

St Martinville sheriff's deputies travelled to Alvin Texas to give me and Mike a lie detector test.  They told me at first that I was their prime suspect in a murder.  I knew already about Bob having died because our daughter had called me.  I told them what I knew...that if I was their prime suspect that they didn't have much of anything to go on because I didn't know anything about it.  After Mike and I passed their test, the officers gave me a little more information saying that Bob had a bullet wound behind his left ear and that his body was tied to a cement block with a come-along around his waist and that his arm was thru the hole in the cinderblock.  After making sure I wasn't going to admit to murdering Bob, a Louisiana police woman told me what she thought, that Bob had committed suicide.  She said the reason they thought it was suicide is that before he died, Bob got his affairs in order and that he gave away a lot of his belongings and that those were the actions of someone planning to kill themselves.  I personally thought that was a typical Louisiana police explanation so that the case could be marked closed.   Eva never did consider suicide as the answer and thought always that her father had been murdered.  She said that a life insurance policy that she had seen many times was missing from his file box that had been gone thru by the police.  The police confiscated all Bob's valuables, guns, jewelry, coins and called it 'evidence' and would not give it back to Eva.  Also, something that made Eva think the police were no good was that they picked her up at Bob's 'visitation' and took her back to the St. Martinville Sheriff's office and grilled her, an 18 year old girl, for over ten hours before Tony, who was with her got so mad he made them let her go.  Eva told me that the officer who treated her the worst, not long after Bob's death retired from the department and bought himself a big chunk of land with a fancy house on it so she always thought he stole the insurance policy and collected on it before she had any chance to request a pay off.  I never decided.  Cajuns do thrive on telling tales.

In another tale from my sister in law, a different sister of hers worked in a dentist's office in Lafayette, and it just so happened to be the very same dentist whose records helped to identify the jawbone that was brought in as belonging to Bob Miers.  The body definitely belonged to Bob.

MAYBE IT WAS, MAYBE IT WASN'T

My current husband's brother who at one time worked for the Sheriff's Department in Lafayette called the St. Martinville Sheriff's department for me although I am not sure I wanted him to do that because I wanted more fodder for my Cajun gossip or whether I needed closure.  Either way, there was not much information. The cause of death listed on the death certificate was "bullet wound to the head".  The Sheriff's Department estimated that the death had to have been about a month earlier, and speculated that the bayou did not have much water in it when the death occurred probably the first week in January.  They showed my brother in law pictures of when the body was found, but he said that it was very had to tell anything about the position of the body after they raised it because the waterlogged skin did not hold together well when it reached the air and they had to be very careful not to make any new marks.  They speculated that the death might have been a suicide because they said Bob had wrapped himself with the brick and pulled the come along tight and pulled the trigger on the gun.  All the things found with the body belonged to Bob himself, including the comealong and the rope.  They didn't find any signs of anyone else having been there, but signs could have been erased by the passage of time.  They didn't find the gun either, but from the bullet that was in the wound they identified the gun as a 25 caliber which they speculated probably belonged to Bob.  Many months later my daughter said that they went back and looked at the site again and did find the gun and that it was indeed the gun that had belonged to Bob.  I  don't know if that's true, but I do know whoever killed Bob, himself or someone else, meant for the body to not be found any time soon.  And Eva called me a dozen times during January and February asking me to try to find addresses for anyone where he might have gone to visit.  She told me that he'd told her that he planned to go to Montana, but the people he knew in Montana didn't know anything about it.

My daughter told me that the initial identification of the body was made by Bob's mother Irene (b.12/4/1916; d.5/19/1988) and was based on the clothes taken from the body.  Bob was cremated, and the arrangements for his memorial and burial services were handled by the Delhomme Funeral Home in Lafayette and Eva said they were in the same place where her grandpa Homer's services had been held.  Irene, when I knew her in the early 70's was working as a 'sitter', a home care nurse and her job for quite some time was taking care of one of the Delhomme family's sons who had been in a major car accident, so there is a connection there.  I myself visited the cemetery where Bob and his parents were buried only once...when Homer died in 1967. While I was standing at the gravesite, Bob told me a story about another grave just above Homer's that was the final resting place of Homer's old bookkeeper from back when Homer owned M&M Rig Builders in the 50's in Lafayette.  Bob said the bookkeeper (I forgot the name that was on the grave) had embezzled money from the company and had absconded to South America and apparently only came home after he was dead.  Bob said that Homer was very likely unhappy with the fact that his grave was next to that of the bookkeeper he hated.  Like I said, tales are of major importance in Louisiana and I have heard some stories, me

From Colorado To Louisiana

Continuing to write stories from my past to take my mind off the things that make me depressed I will write on about how I came to live in Louisiana...my grandchildren's home state.

From Colorado to Louisiana

As a college student, I moved to Lafayette, Louisiana in the fall of 1965  to live with my older brother Gary and to attend the University of Southwestern Louisiana.  My younger brother Doyle who had been living with our parents wanted to stay in one place for his senior year in high school, so he was there, too, and enrolled at Lafayette High School.  We lived at first with Gary in an efficiency apartment off College Street on Bacque Crescent.   There was only one room and a bathroom The room held two sofas and a table in one corner and in the opposite corner smaller than the bathroom was a kitchen nook with an all in one unit that included the sink, refrigerator, a stove burner and a drawer and cupboard. 

When I got there we spoke to the landlady about getting a bigger apartment because ours was too small, and since there was no other apartment available, she said we could break the six month lease if we would clean the place thoroughly before we moved out.  Driving around looking at apartments in Lafayette, I saw White Real Estate offices near four corners and when I went inside, the secretary gave me my first contact with a real Cajun accent.   I’d heard that accent before, but never to actually speak to someone who butchered the English language so nicely and called me ‘cha’.

The secretary told me that Mr. White did indeed have apartments and houses near the college campus.  My two brothers and I rented an upstairs apartment in a fourplex that had two bedrooms a bath, kitchen, and livingroom and was only about four blocks from USL.  I got the bedroom with the full sized bed and the boys got the one that had twin beds.  The place was a terrible mess and we worked hard to clean it and make it liveable like my mother always did when she’d found us a new place to live near the warehouse.  We made it look so nice that while we lived there Mr. White came, looked and made arrangements for the livingroom floor to be sanded and restained and varnished and for the carpet to be replaced in the hallway.

Louisiana was a wonderful place.  It was the fall and it rained almost every day.  The raindrops were warm!  Gary and I had gone to college in Greeley, Colorado and the weather was completely different there than in Louisiana.  In Colorado the winter weather brought snow.  In Louisiana it was so warm I never needed a coat.  When it rained, I just got wet and even then didn’t feel cold.  The winter was so mild to me that I wondered why the locals were ‘freezing’ and wore heavy coats when it was only about sixty five degrees outside.  

Our parents moved their little one bedroom trailer to Houston, Texas and on some weekends we would go ‘home’ to visit them in Gary’s car.  Sometimes we stayed at school because it was midterm testing time or one of us would have some kind of project or report to do.  We'd met Bob Miers on Mardi Gras (see the story following this one) and he stayed with us some days when he was on his 7 days off from his work on an offshore drilling rig.  One weekend we went to Houston to visit my parents and Bob went with us.  (My father was very angry that Bob had come there and said that Bob was my 'boyfriend' and that I was simply not admitting it.  Today I realize that there were reasons why my Dad disliked Bob, but back then, once again I think I must have been so rebellious that I decided that I would make Bob his son-in-law because my dad was wrong.  Although it was awhile before that happened, eventually it did, not because I was angry at my father but because Bob told me that he loved me and wanted to spend his life with me.)

One Saturday night Bob brought us back to visit his parents because his father was cooking “the best steaks” ever outside over charcoal.  I remember that Gary bought a huge sirloin steak about two inches thick over for Bob’s dad Homer to cook…and Homer made it taste absolutely wonderful…even though he called it “almost a whole cow”.  And Bob’s mother Irene fixed corn on the cob and tater tots and the best tasting, most simple salad and the coldest most wonderful iced tea I ever drank.  Bob showed us around Lafayette and introduced us  to “the strip”,  Voorhies Roof Garden and the Brass Rail.  On Sunday Lafayette was dry and Bob showed us the places to go outside of town to Breaux Bridge, Poor Boys and Paul’s Place, Mulate’s and Pat’s where you could drink with your dinner or dance or see a fight break out.  Gary had gone once to the Bayou Club on the Lafayette/St. Martin Parish line but by the time Doyle and I got to Lafayette that place had burned down.  We paid our cover charge and danced at all the other Cajun dance halls from Church Point to Butte La Rose on the  Henderson Levee.

At the end of our school year in May, Doyle had graduated and gone back home.  After Gary had a car wreck, he left Lafayette.  Bob, without Gary's transportation, wasn’t around much any more.  He did manage to get rides and introduced me to his friend Dukie that he'd gone to high school with, and I met his brother named Homer Sidney that everyone called Bunn who came from Las Vegas.  I got to know Robbie who married his girlfriend Jackie because couple lived close by at her mother's house.  And I met others of Bob’s friends including Virgil Dinsmore and Jerry (Dugas I think) who had a water well drilling company.  But it was quiet on the home front which gave me space to finish writing papers and study for final tests at the end of my junior year.  On the day of my last final test, Bob’s mother brought him by my house and he told me that he was going to go overseas on a drilling rig to Cameroon in Africa.  I gave him my address in Houston and the next day went with him and his mother to see Bob off at the airport.  School was finished and I packed and went to ‘home’ for the summer. 

Back in Houston, I did tell my mother that I was expecting to get a letter from Bob so I would know where I could write to him overseas, but it was quite awhile before I heard from him.  I went on about the business of getting a job at Reserve Life Insurance Company in the heart of downtown Houston and helping with a building project my mom was working on to attach a "cabana" room to the front side of their small trailer.  My brother Stan was there and Bryan, the baby but Gary and Doyle went to work for the summer on the pipelines.  After a few weeks, my mom and the baby went to join my dad on a job in Beatrice Nebraska and Stan stayed there with me.

It was a long summer but a fun one.    I was working every weekday, but it was never dull because Stan was ten...lots of fun to be around and he took good care of me and of mom’s house.  He always cleaned up after himself before he went to visit around the trailer park.  When I'd get home in the evening I’d find him over at a friends house or just coming in from his 'fishing hole'.  I cooked sometimes, but most of the time I tried to bring home some fast food or Stan and I would go out to eat.  On the weekends we'd go see a movie or go check out some fun place.  Some days we’d go visit my Aunt Denny and Uncle Narb, in fact some weekdays I’d go to work early and drop Stan (and his bicycle) off to visit while I worked the day then went back to pick him up in the evening.  I had grown up fun, reunited with a childhood friend, Jimmy Newbould who took me out dancing or sometimes or I would go dancing at one of Houston's clubs alone. And I wrote letters to Bob, who sent back one sentence letters to me, telling me what it was like living on a rig 14/7 or having his days off in a war-torn African country or making friends with the 'chef' who cooked for the men on the rig and the two of them deep sea fishing because he was bored.  He told me that he missed me and that when he came back to the USA he wanted to see me.  I don't remember him saying that he loved me, but I do remember him telling me how badly he wanted to be near me. Both his almost love of me and his life on the rig were exciting to hear about.  Bob worked for a company called Global Marine.  I have a picture of the rig he was on and will try to find it and make a digital copy and post it here.

At the end of  the summer Doyle let me know that he was coming down from Nebraska on a motorcycle he’d gotten and would be going to Lafayette to start college at USL.  He planned to be there for Memorial Day weekend.  Bob had been working overseas offshore from Cameroon and Nigeria.  On the very same weekend that Doyle was due to arrive, Bob came back from overseas and called me to come get him at Hobby Airport so he could visit with me on his way home to Lafayette.  When Doyle arrived the next day on his motorcycle, Bob was there.  

Doyle was so beat from his ride that he went to sleep.  Bob tried to teach me how to ride Doyle's bike, but I was not good at it and didn't know how to brake and almost clotheslined myself in my landlady's yard before he yelled at me how to stop the thing.  Needless to say, motorcycles have scared me ever since then.  When Doyle woke up, he complained that he never wanted to ride his motorcycle again. Bob had been trying to convince me to take him to Lafayette for the weekend instead of taking him back to Hobby to catch a plane home, so I suggested that Bob ride the motorcycle and I would take Doyle to Lafayette in my car...which we did.  I was supposed to be back to work on Monday morning even though it was a holiday for most everyone.  (My boss had promoted me and didn't want me to miss a single day of work because I had much catching up to do to be able to do both my new job and my old job.)  

The trip was too hard on my car, though, so on Saturday I ended up trying to find a mechanic who would fix it.  I did, but the mechanic wanted to keep the car until Monday afternoon.  I called my boss on Monday morning to tell him that I could not make it in to work until the next day and he told me that I was, of course, fired for not coming in to work...then informed me that I would still need to come back in to train someone new to take my job.  I called my parents and told them that I was in Lafayette and cried because I had gotten fired.  My father was very angry.  He informed me that I should not have taken the car he gave to me, his car, out of town, let alone across a state line!  He was very upset about Bob and told me that I should just give the car keys to my brother and not ever go back to the trailer in Houston.  

My dad sent my mother to Houston to go and be with Stan and she came over to Lafayette to get the car.  Instead of her taking that car back home, she came to Bob's house, talked to his parents and to me about whether Bob and I had been sleeping together and whether we were truly in love.  Bob told her that he loved me and that he would ask my Dad for my hand in marriage if he had come instead of her.  After that Mom drove me back to Houston and I took her to Hobby to fly back home.  (She had done what my Dad told her to do, but she didn't want to be long away from baby Bryan.)  From Houston, my mom said I needed to take Stan to Beatrice Nebraska so he would be able to start school there.  He and I drove for almost two days to get there, never stopping except to eat and get gas.  I remember reading in the paper the day after I got there that the roads we traveled had been closed due to flash flooding.  It had rained much of the trip, but going thru Nebraska the night skies were pretty clear...and we didn't see any flooding at all.  

My dad was still very angry at me and told me I should either denounce Bob or just get out of his house.  I retaliated by telling him that Bob and I were in love and were going to get married.  Bob had, after all said that he loved me and wanted to marry me, right in front of my mother.  Dad simply stomped out.  Then he sent my brother and my cousin over to ask me out to a dance.  The next day was just about the same only at the end of it he sent my sister to come and talk to me and tell me how I should not get married.  The next day was not quite the same.  My mom, apparently having had enough, and having decided that my dad's wishes were not going to come true took me shopping and bought me a pink lame suit and a white blouse and a new purse and shoes that matched then took me to the bus station and bought me a ticket to Wichita where she told me that her sister Leila would pick me up and take me to the airport to catch a flight back to Houston and on to Lafayette.  She paid for it all and let me know that I was not to tell my dad anything about the plan.  That night I simply went to bed early.  I don't know what she said to my dad...she never said. and the next day I took the bus that went to Wichita.

I have been advised to direct my story telling toward a specific end...a goal.  Thinking this advice over, I have decided that I want to try and write down some things I remember from my own past.  I am hoping that one day I will be able to pass these stories down to my grandchildren, my great grandchildren, so that the history of their mother, their grandmother and grandfather will not be lost.  I think that perhaps the first story I ought to tell is:

When Bob Miers and Myra Maggard first met.

It was 1966 and I (Myra) lived in Lafayette, Louisiana with two of my brothers (Gary and Doyle) in an apartment near to the USL (University of Southwestern Louisiana has since changed its name to U.La La.  Ooolala!??!!  The University of Louisiana at Lafayette!) where I was in my 3rd year of classes.

Mardi Gras in 1967 was on February 22nd!  Lafayette doesn’t have the weeklong celebrations that New Orleans is known for and begins the celebration on the weekend before plus the Monday and Fat Tuesday.  My brothers and I were looking forward to a real Louisiana Mardi Gras!.  It’d be a first for me and Doyle, but my older brother Gary had been to a Mardi Gras celebration a few years earlier in New Orleans.

My younger brother Doyle went to Lafayette High School because our pipeliner Dad moved from town to town, warehouse to warehouse on the job and Doyle wanted to spend his senior year going to only one school.  He was, at the time, dating a high school girl named Shirley.  I think her last name was Arceneaux.    I do remember her nickname, “Chevrolet Grill” because when she smiled you could plainly see she wore silver braces on her teeth.  The girl wanted me to meet a ‘blind date’ friend of hers downtown named Robbie.  On Mardi Gras I walked to town before anyone else, excited to look at everything and watch the costume judging for children at ten and the parade at noon.  There were lots of floats in the parade with the people aboard throwing treasures out to the crowds of onlookers.  The one that stood out for me was from Breaux Bridge and the people aboard were throwing boiled crawfish out to the crowd.  I caught one, and the people around me must have noticed how excited I was because they gave me crawfish they’d caught.  I asked around for someone to show me what to do with them, what part was good to eat, but everyone was busy and no one answered.

 I went inside a barroom and the bartender gave me a paper cup to put my crawfish into until I could find someone to help me.  Inside the bar my brothers and Shirley came up.  She introduced the guy who was with them as “Bobby” and me, thinking it was my blind date and wanting to know how to eat a crawfish asked him how to peel the ones I had in the cup.  He immediately took one and zip, zip, zip had it peeled and popped it into his mouth.  *gasp*  I only had three!  I told him and he said that he’d take me out to eat crawfish that very night and he slowly peeled one of the two I had left to show me how it was done.  About then another fellow came up and Shirley introduced him as “Robbie” but I was so interested in learning how to peel a crawfish I never noticed the similarity of names.   The first fellow invited us all to go to his house down off the Abbeville Highway on Rena Drive. And there we spent the afternoon of Mardi Gras with Bobby Miers and his parents, Homer and Irene, talking and drinking beer, boiling and peeling and eating crawfish and listening to Bobby’s music and admiring his stereo and speaker system.  I didn’t realize until much later that the second fellow, not the first fellow was supposed to have been my blind date.  Bobby took an immediate liking to all three of us Maggard kids.  And when it was time to go, he rode back to our apartment and spent night there sleeping on the sofa.

We three students went back to our classes the next day and Bob stayed at our house and when we got home in the afternoon, he’d cleaned up our kitchen and he’d made sandwiches for us all.  I didn’t think I liked tuna fish sandwiches…my mother always made them using Miracle Whip and I always thought that was mayonnaise…but I tried Bob’s sandwiches just to be polite…and learned the difference between salad dressing and mayonnaise.  I don’t like salad dressing.  It’s sweet.  But I do like mayonnaise. 

Later in the week Bob left to begin his 7 days of working on an offshore drilling rig as a derrick man.  Our Mardi Gras partying took place during his seven days off.  He liked that we had room enough for him to stay with us.  He liked that Gary had a car.  Bobby had a car but could not drive it because his license had been suspended.  As soon as he got back onshore for his 7 days off he call us to party some more and he spent at least as much time at our apartment as he did at home with his Mom and Dad. 

A SOLUTION TO DEPRESSION

Lately I have felt sad.  Depression has hit me like a ton of bricks.  Every day I work a little to get past these feelings but it seems to be a slow process.  I feel better for a little while and then I fall back down into the dumps.  Someone suggested to me that I write it all down.  Someone else told me how much they loved my stories and how they wished I would write them down and tell them to more than one person.  Putting the two thoughts together, here goes...

I'll start with a story about the two black labs that live in our back yard.  The two of them look a lot alike, being black labs both female, both fixed, the 'puppies' now grown are the the offspring of Gypsy.

THE STORY OF GYPSY

The story Gypsy goes like this.  Gypsy is half German Shepherd and half Timberwolf.  My son Joshua got her.  He made arrangements with someone in Lafayette, Louisiana to take a puppy when the litter was old enough to leave the mother shepherd (who'd been bred with a wolf).  Before he and his new bride could get the new puppy, though, someone hit his car that had been parked on the street in front of his mother's house. The Lafayette policecould do nothing more than take a report and he had only liability insurance.  Since he had lost his ride to work he called his job and when he said he could not make it in, they fired him on the phone.  He made arrangements with his Dad to come to our house in La Porte, TX.  The last thing that happened before Josh left Lafayette was that the people with the puppy told him he needed to come and get his dog.  So in mid June of 1999 Josh and his pregnant wife and a six week old puppy moved in with us.

I'll make this part of the story short.  Gypsy was a ball of fur when she was a puppy, but she got big fast. Gypsy lived in the back yard of our subdivision house.  She loved it when anyone came into the back yard and gave her company. Gypsy loved to eat, but most of all she loved being petted.  Gypsy was trained.  She could  sit and shake and jump up to hug an adult or squat and reach out with her paws to hug a little one.  Did I mention that we had a little one at our house?  Josh's daughter was born end of August, 1999, and Gypsy was her dog.  The two of them were practically the same age.  My son, 7 years Josh's junior loved the dog too, and when Josh and his new family found another place to live, Gypsy stayed with us and became Uncle Sonny's dog...and eventually Gypsy became our dog.

ARKANSAS

In 2007 my husband and son and I moved to retire in Arkansas.  I will never forget moving Gypsy to our new home.  We had a huge U-haul truck and I was going to drive our little SUV.  Our granddaughters' stepfather had loaned us a dog crate that we hoped would be big enough.  Our big tall friend Ranzy was there helping us to pack the truck.  He and my husband decided to put Gypsy into the crate and then see if they could lift the crate up and into the back of my vehicle.  That worked but the cage was so big it went from side to side in the car and there was not any way to open the door on the end of it without taking it back out again.  I felt so sorry for the dog I left right then, knowing that I had about a 7 hour drive to bring Gypsy to her new home.

Gypsy was a wonderful passenger.  I was a bundle of nerves trying to stop and start slowly so she would not be tossed around in her crate.  I talked to her constantly, and Gypsy never seemed to be bothered but I was a terrible mess.  I got all the way to Atlanta, Texas, more than half the trip before I realized that I needed to stop and get something to eat and stretch my legs.  Gypsy made no fuss at all...she just sat calmly in her cage while I went inside a McDonalds to use the bathroom and get some french fries and some water.  Back on the road again, I got to the welcome center in Arkansas just east of Texarkana and thought I would stop again and maybe let Gypsy out in the dog park there.  But, when I was parking, I saw Mike's big old truck and hurried to catch up with him instead of stopping.  When we got to our little town, about an hour later, Mike had to stop in Bismarck to get gas.  I drove on to our new house.  I don't know if Gypsy smelled that Sonny was there or how she knew, but for the first time since we left La Porte the dog who had been so awesomely patient began to try and move around in her cage and make whining noises.  As soon as I got to the house I went inside to get Sonny and he and I lifted the cage out of the back of the car and opened the door and you never saw any dog so happy, not so much to be out of her confinement, but she sure did seem happy to see Sonny again after not seeing him at all for about six weeks!

THE STORY DOESN'T STOP THERE

The next part of the story takes place about two months later.  Our house in Arkansas has a couple of acres of land that goes with it and it is surrounded by trees that stretch for miles behind us.  It was a really big place for a dog who'd known only the back yard of a subdivision house her whole 8 years of life.   Too, we were worried that if we let her run, Gypsy would scare someone (she looked so much like a wolf) and get herself shot.  We tied her up, but her leash was short and confining.  We got a swivel and a long chain and tied her up to that.  Gypsy did everything she could to get loose.  If we put her near a tree, she would run around and around the tree until she had no slack on her chain then throw herself against it trying to get it to break.  Every morning it was the same tangled chain story and every day we would try to figure out a way to give Gypsy some freedom without having her take off running to explore her new world on her own.  In the end, we decided to fence the yard, so we got some of those metal posts that you push into the ground and some of that wire that has the big 3" squares in it and fenced her a yard.  After that, Gypsy spent most of her time lying inside the yard, in fact, lying in front of the french doors outside our bedroom.  Never once did it occur to me that the dog could get out of that fence anytime she wanted.

In late fall, right after Halloween, Gypsy started howling lots more than ever before.  We ignored her or sprayed her with water and made her quit, but apparently although unnoticed by me, after not having done so for years, Gypsy had gone into season.  Two black labs, one old and the other young came to visit her.  The young one was so spry that he could leap over that fence, no problem.  And he did.  When I would walk out the back door, that black lab would be over that fence in a flash!  The old one didn't jump.  He'd go around the bottom of the fence, pushing on it until he found a place where he could push himself underneath.  He didn't run when I came outside, though.  He just didn't budge, no matter what I would do.  I could scream at him, threaten him, hit him, kick at him and all that old dog would do is stand and look at me.  He would not leave until I went back inside.  Once I'd see him leave see the spot where he got inside our fence so I could take out the slack. I never saw either dog hooked up with Gypsy, but Mike told me that he did.  And after a few days, the black Labs didn't come back any more and not long after that, we put in a chain link fence that was nearly six feet high with real posts and locking gates.

In March, the tv weatherman predicted snow.  Mike's brother had said to let him know when it was going to snow and he and his wife would come up to visit us.  When he and his wife got here, we had a great visit the first night, going to get Arkansas barbecue and visiting the bakery and buying wonderful desserts.  On Saturday we went to antique stores and again had a good time...and when we got home, the temperature started to drop.  Gypsy was a mess, crying and whining and trying her best go go under our back porch, digging a huge hole under there to get out of the wind.  We tried putting her on the porch, but she didn't stop whining and crying.  Finally we decided that since she had not ever seen snow before we would put her inside on the sun porch and block off her entry into the house.  All was quiet, and we slept thru the night and the snow came down and turned the whole world white.

The next morning when I got up, Mike's brother was already awake and had poured himself a cup of coffee.  When I got into the kitchen, he said to me, "I think I hear more than one voice out there on that sun porch.  When I checked, sure enough, Gypsy was guarding a little black puppy, no bigger than her own paw.  She seemed excited for me and everyone else to see what she had done. She kept licking it and muzzling next to it and practically showing it off when anyone came to check on her and her tiny offspring.  Thank goodness that dog only had one puppy...I read where a wolf could have a dozen puppies and a shepherd could have as many as sixteen!  Good night!!

The next day, again my brother in law was awake before me.  And when I went down to the kitchen, he told me that he thought there were two puppies.  What??!!  Impossible.  It was over 12 hours that we waited for Gypsy to be finished with her birthing and nothing happened and she didn't seem to be in labor any more.  But out on that back porch, Gypsy had two little black babies!

SATURDAY

SUNDAY

And that's the story about how today we have two black labs living in our back yard.  It isn't the whole story.  I haven't told you yet that Gypsy died last year at the age of 13.  (There is a blog about that, but the date on it is far back from this one.)  I haven't told you that we call the black dogs Red and Blue--which is another story.  At first we'd named them Saturday and Sunday, but we could hardly tell them apart they looked so much alike.  Mike got them collars when they were about six weeks old.  The collars were red and blue, so we put them onto the puppies and renamed the dogs Red and Blue.

GYPSY'S PUPPIES WERE MOVED OUTSIDE.  THEY ARE SEVEN WEEKS OLD.

RED AND BLUE AT 17 WEEKS OLD

GYPSY WITH RED AND BLUE AT 20 WEEKS OLD 

RED AND BLUE AND GYPSY IN THE WINTER SNOW OF 2009

I haven't said that we nicknamed them 'our dog alarm' because they bark and run from gate to gate when anyone so much as pauses at the far end of our driveway and they don't stop until we come out to greet our company.I didn't tell you that we can now tell the puppies apart, or that Blue is nearly blind or about how just like Gypsy their favorite thing even above eating is to be petted.  

Cheerleader Princess

Homecoming Week.Favorite Team Day

Cheerleader Zoey

Homecoming Week Crazy Hat Day

Homecoming Princess

Football season has arrived and my great granddaughter Zoey is taking a cheer class after school.  She loves it according to my granddaughter and really looks forward to class.  She does her cheers all the time whenever and where ever she can, in the car, in the yard, in her room, everywhere.  Zoey is from a small town in southeast Texas.  When the high school in her town has homecoming, everyone gets involved and when they elect a king and queen, they also choose a prince and princess.  This year, on September 7th, Zoey was the Homecoming Princess!

My father died.  I have not mentioned my father much in my blog, but he was always there, an important part of all of my life.  He was my Daddy.  Obituary of L.M.(Jack)Maggard will tell you about him...when he was born and who preceded him in death and who survives him.  Those things are history.  My thoughts about my Dad are like me, bits of history that breathe and have a heartbeat and life.

At the age of 93, my Dad lived a long and full lifetime and I was part of that life for over 66 years.  I love my Dad, and I will always know that he loved me.  Dad married the most remarkable woman and I always got to call her Mama.  My mother was one of those people who spoiled everyone and my Dad knew it and never objected.  He instead had a hand in the spoiling, tossed in with the teaching and the obvious pride The two of them were a couple in love and there was never any doubt about it.  Daddy and Mama gave me five siblings, four brothers and a sister.  We are all grown now and each of us has given them grandchildren and some of us, great grandchildren.  At his funeral services, when I had the chance to speak, I mentioned that we should not grieve, but rather we should celebrate my Dad's life.  One of the most noticeable things about my Dad was his sense of humor.  He laughed and joked about nearly everything and could see something to laugh at everywhere.  My mother and my sister and my daughter all preceded him in death and now those three have a fourth for pinochle.  When he'd call me on the phone, my dad would say, "Hello der" and when I called him he would say, "Howdy" and for just about every other situation, be it good or bad or just a spot where he didn't know what to say, he would say "Oh Boy"  I was with him when Daddy breathed his last.  He died in his own house, in his own bed, sleeping peacefully.  Dare I mention his snoring or would that just go to show I inherited his sense of humor?

These two are not just my great granddaughters, they're the greatest!!

June 21, 2013, Mike and I got up and packed and got on the road to Saratoga.  We got to Ashley's house about 4 o'clock...in time for me to get to see the new little Stella (5 1/2 months old) and collect bunches of hugs from Zoey (5).  What a long time it has been since I last saw Ashley and Chris and Zoey and that was the first visit I've ever had with Stella.  She is a doll of a baby!

 

Ashley and Chris are wonderful hosts.  Supper was terrific and the visiting was great!  In the evening I got to go with them to the final day of Zoey's Vacation Bible School and to see the closing ceremonies.  Those sweet Hiltons gave us their bed at night because Mike still has minor problems using his leg getung down on something low.  Their bed was wonderful, so tall I nearly needed a ladder to get up there myself and perfect for Mike, we had a great night's sleep.  The next day there was more visiting and us using Chris' phone (because ours didn't pick up a signal ) and arranging for Brandie and Debbie and Lucas and Myles to bring Chloe and Trinity to meet us and travel back to Arkansas to visit here for a couple of weeks.  First we went to the Subway at the Valero station because that's the road that goes back to Dayton....but when we called Brandie was far away then Ashley and Chris (with Zoey and Stella) came by us and stopped to tell us they were on the way to go out to eat Mexican food on that same highway, only about a block from Highway 59...so we called Brandie back and we all met at the Mexican Restaurant in Cleveland....and from there it was quick to get onto our road home...and only 6 hours later...back to Bismarck.

Freezing Rain
Yesterday was a beautiful day....warm, in the 60's with the sun shining brightly.  That's a very good thing too because on Monday (Feb. 19, 2013) the house "next" door, the big white house behind the church was demolished in a wind anomoly: News Flash: is a link to our local news on the day of the storm..  All of us here, Mike and Mike2 and me watched the wind pass by our house.  It was really strong.  Mike, who is on crutches still from his broken leg six weeks ago was just getting ready to take a shower.  He changed his mind when the wind started whipping up outside and made his way toward the livingroom.  Sonny and I were in the kitchen talking about how dark it just had gotten outside when the noise started...and we talked briefly about whether or not the sound was hail...but the strong winds were short lived and by the time Mike got here and Sonny and I finished our conversation, the little storm was gone.  The clock on the oven said 2:46.  Our electricity blinked off and looking out the kitchen window I could see that outside, a lot of branches were down and the back yard full of debris.  Without electricity, we could not finish cooking dinner...meatloaf and baked potatoes--since the power was not immediately restored.  We left the supper in the oven and the cupcakes Sonny had been making stayed on the counter waiting until we would be able to use the oven again,

Outside, cardboard and branches had blown into the woods from off the burn pile.  The guttering that Gary removed from the house to make the repairs after our snow storm disappeared from my view because it had blown across the yard.  I didn't see that the chicken cage had blown end over end , but one of the chickens got out and came into the garage...which caused me to notice.  I had put the chickens up into the coop earlier because it looked like rain and I didn't want to have to go out and get wet if it was still raining when it was time to put them up later.  When I got outside I realized that the coop was overturned, the nests upside down and that the other two chickens were still inside unable to figure out how to get out.  I don't know how the third chicken got out and into the garage.  Maybe she blew. I have not heard yet whether it was actually a tornado or if it was a sustained wind gust that blew up in our yard and across behind the church and obviously to the Thornton's house behind. While Sonny and I were outside uprighting the chicken's coop, Cynthia, our insurance agent, pulled up into the yard and said, "I heard on the scanner that the house next to Hickory Grove Baptist Church was deomolished and thought that it was you, but everything looks fine here."

That's when we walked over to the edge of the yard and saw that the house to the East behind the church was completely toppled.  We walked over to the church and were told that everyone was out of the house...five or six people and that only one was hurt, a son-in-law who'd been in the shower one minute then found himself outside in the yard the next.  An ambulance came and took him to the hospital in Hot Springs.  Our electricity didn't come back on.  Entergy said that they hoped to get it back on by 7 in the evening...but when I called at 7 they said it would be two a.m.  We decided that we would start up our gasoline generator so we could have a light and the tv.  Sonny lit a fire in the fireplace so it was warm even though the temperature dropped to nearly freezing in the night.  When I called at midnight they said the lights would not be back on until 5 a.m.  The power was finally restored the next morning a little after 5am.  Finally we could finish baking the cupcakes!

Lots of the people who live in Bismarck came to help on Monday and again yesterday.  I hope the Thornton family we able to save their belongings!  Today little clean up would be possible.  It's too cold and wet.  It's freezing, and raining with some sleet in the rain and the spitting raindrops freeze as soon as they hit the ground.  Icy.  I went out and put the chickens up in their coop and covered part of it hoping it helps them to keep warm and out of the wind.  I fed them and fed the dogs and brought the cat in.  I drove to Bismarck and got milk and bread in case tomorrow we are not able to get out on the highway.  The daffodils are blooming outside along my back fence and I imagine that they will die back some from the cold.  So will the camelias blooming on the bush outside my kitchen window.  I hope the peach tree and pear tree survive all right and I am glad I did not plant my garden outside yet.

Zoey celebrated her 5th birthday on February 15, 2013

Mike and I went to Little Rock for his last doctor's appointment on the 25th of last month.  The first thing they did was remove his cast...then he had x-rays taken so that when we saw Dr. Nicholas he finished removing the staples from Mike's scar, checked the x-rays and the surgery and told him that he was making exemplary progress, then sent him him with just his knee brace, no cast and told him he would not need to return for a couple of months.  His next appointment is set for March...after the Pipeline Reunion in Shreveport that I am planning to go to (March 7-9) hoping to see my Dad and several of my brothers and their families.  I will make a definite plan about that later.  Mike is still progressing nicely from his broken leg. He is not supposed to bend it or put weight on it because the Doctor said that he needs more time to heal and for his bones to knit a bridge.  He has been going wherever he wants on his crutches, but I don't really think he will want to go to Shreveport to the Diamond Jack casino there.  We'll see.  Today when I went to get milk in Bismarck he offered to go...and said he would drive!

It takes a really long time for a broken bone to heal

Yesterday (Friday, January 19) Mike and I traveled to Little Rock to see Doctor Nicolas at UAMS.  He didn't do much more than unwrap the surgery so he could have a look at it.  He removed about every other staple in the foot long scar Mike has down the front of his leg, rewrapped the knee in the same old splint that Mike came in with and told him he needs to come back next Friday again to have the rest of the staples removed.

Today, Gary came to replace the gutters along the back side of the house.  Mike has had to stay in bed, so Sonny and I are here to help as much as we can.  We made frankengutter using a lot of the old pieces and all of the new pieces Mike had gotten the day before he broke his leg and if I say so myself, it looks pretty good and I think it will withstand a pretty big snow sliding off the roof if we have any more of that this winter.

Meanwhile I am busy catching up with the bills and the phone calls and the things I've left undone.  Mike is getting a little better every day.  A home health evaluator called Friday morning while we were leaving for Little Rock and told me that the physical therapist who would be taking Mike's case had the flu.  I think the evaluator is going to come out to visit us on Monday, but maybe she is just going to call Monday to talk about when she can make an appointment.  Mike is able to get out of bed and walk to the bathroom and is much better at picking his heavy leg with the fiberglass splint on it using his other leg to lift.  Ten days down and another thirty or so days to go.

Mike's niece Crystal and his brother Danny have been wonderful about calling Mike regularly to help take his mind off his healing process.  I am a mess myself, my mind keeps wandering.  I sometimes think about how many birthdays there are to celebrate at the end of January.  My niece Katie will be three  on the 22nd.  My youngest brother Bryan's birthday is on the 25th, my grandson Craig celebrates his 24th birthday on the 27th of January and my nephew Gary has his birthday on the 28th.

All those birthdays help to make me think about other things than that my daughter Eva will have been gone for a year on the very last day of this month.  I think I have prepared myself for the sad thoughts about Eva's death, but when I least expect it my thoughts are all of her and how sad it all is.  Eva's father was adopted and never knew his birth parents.  His adoptive mother and father are both deceased and although they adopted an older son, Eva was never able to find her uncle again after her grandmother died.  She always remembered that her maiden name was Miers, but now that she is gone, it looks as if the name Miers went with her.  I gave her all the things I had from my first marriage for her to remember her father and her grandmother and I don't know where any of that is now.  I do understand now, why Eva was so insistent that her father be remembered....for without Eva to keep his memory, he would be gone.  Eva left behind two wonderful children, both of whom are parents.  She had a granddaughter and a grandson when she died and a few weeks ago another granddaughter was born--a most beautiful baby girl that I know Eva would have loved and held and cuddled the same way she did her first granddaughter 4 years ago and the same way she held and loved her grandson three years ago.  The thought brings a smile to my face.  I am the great grandmother and I love Eva's children and their spouses and her grandchildren.  Now I understand why Eva did her best to keep her father's memory alive  and I will keep Eva's memory alive for all of my own life the same way!

Tonight after Gary finished working, Sonny was too tired to cook supper and he told me how to make his meatloaf.  I put a couple tablespoons of chicken bullion powder and a little water, two eggs, two thirds of a cup of oatmeal and about a pound and a half of hamburger in a bowl, mixed it thoroughly with my hands then  filled the 12 cups of a rubber muffin pan with the meat (the middle ones had the least meat because Sonny says they don't cook as quickly as the outside cups), put the muffin pan into the oven at 375 degrees for ten minutes. I made a glaze--of a tablespoon of brown sugar, a couple teaspoons of ginger and a quarter cup of ketchup and when the ten minutes was up I glazed 8 of the little meat loaves.  I left the glaze off of mine since I don't eat sugar.  Back into the oven for another 18 minutes, I set a timer and started some macaroni and cheese to make a meal.  (Then I started writing this blog...and it's time for me to go finish supper now!)

Say No to Ice Skating and Break Dancing!!

My husband Mike fell on the ice a week ago Saturday, January 5.   It snowed on Christmas Day and on the day after, more snow fell so that in all we got about ten inches.  For several days after that, the snow melted some in the daytime, but at night the temperature would fall below freezing and the next day there would still be snow.  After nearly a week the snow finally melted enough to start sliding off the roof, huge chunks of it that made it look like it had recently snowed the way it piled up beside the house.  On the day that Mike got hurt Gary, the man who comes to work here when something calls for an extra set of hands or some special knowledge, came to help us repair the damage to the gutters that the heavy snow had caused pulling them down and breaking some of them.  Gary was the one who came inside to tell me that Mike had fallen and that he might have broken his leg.  Things have gone double time around here for me ever since.

Mike was sitting up right on the front cement walkway with his leg across the pile of frozen snow.  I brought him his knee brace and crutches that he asked for trying his best to get up, but none of it worked so I came inside and dialed 911.  I tried calling his doctor in Malvern and his surgeon in Little Rock and even the emergency room at the hospital, but none of them had any suggestions for me.  The emergency crew who came to help Mike from off the front sidewalk first slid a plastic stretcher underneath him, then slid the stretcher onto a gurney, all of it heavy duty work because the ground outside was uneven and slanted and there was little room to do much of anything in the tiny space of the cement walkway between the garage and the hedges.  Once inside, the ambulance driver told me she was going to take him to St. Joseph/Baptist Hospital in Hot Springs.  I had never been there before, but I followed the ambulance all the way there.  The trauma crew checked Mike in, put him onto a bed and he waited for the Doctor to come and order xrays and something for his pain.  It was a couple of hours before the doctor came and when he did, he turned out to be a very young resident who had no experience at all in orthopedics.  He ordered and looked at the X-rays of Mike's knee and upper calf then in another couple of hours came back to the room to ask Mike if he felt better and could walk.  He said he didn't see any kind of break on the pictures of Mike's knee and said Mike should go home and keep the knee propped up and take pain killers and that the knee would most likely be better the next day.  It was tough getting Mike back home again.  The hospital gave him some kind of delauden to kill the pain for the twenty mile trip and it took a lot of time for him to go inside, slowly sliding out of the car then hobbling on a walker and crutches into the garage, across the six feet, up the high step into the house.  Sonny was here to help and he and I brought Mike's wheeled office chair from the computer room and pushed him across the expanse of the livingroom but Mike had to negotiate the three steps up into the bedroom hall all by himself, one tiny movement at a time.  From there it was still not easy going down the hall and across the bedroom and it was not any small task getting up onto the bed without moving the knee but Mike told Sonny and I what to do and we managed.

It was a long wait until Monday,  The trauma Doctor had said to call and speak to an orthopedist, so on  early as possible Mike called to see when he would be able to get in and see Doctor Nicholas at UAMS, the surgeon who had treated him two years ago when he'd had the Giant Cell Tumor at the top of his fibula. At first Mike had an appointment for Friday, 5 days away, but throughout the day he talked to the nurses at UAMS until finally he asked me if I would be able to take him in right then so the doctor could see him that afternoon before three.  It was a long trip to Little Rock, the biggest part of it being the walk across the house, down the three steps into the living area and the one big step down into the garage.  After that, pushing and pulling himself up into the back seat of the car must have seemed like a piece of cake and when we got to UAMS there was a wheel chair and a technician waiting to take him into the hospital itself.  

First we went to radiology for xrays then we went to the 7th floor clinic to see Doctor Nicholas, with half an hour to spare before the 3 o'clock deadline.  Dr. Nicholas showed us on the xrays that Mike did indeed have a break in his fibula and a tear in some tissue that needed repair.  He said that he could not do the surgery until Wednesday but that he would check Mike into the hospital to stay off his leg and not bend his knee or do any more damage before the surgery that would be first thing in the morning on Wednesday.  He introduced the resident surgeon, Dr. Dooley.  Since Mike was only in the hospital so he could stay off his leg, the time before surgery was easy with nothing to be done but to watch tv and play on the computer tablet.  I spent the night Monday because it was dark before we were finished checking Mike into his hospital room and it's a long way to drive home.  On Tuesday, though, I decided to drive back to Bismarck and do the things I had not been able to do before I left and get ready for what I knew might be a long time gone if Mike's surgery the next day didn't go as planned.  I went home via Hot Springs so I could fill up with gas at a familiar place and so I could get a couple of prescriptions filled for Sonny (who'd been to the doctor the Thursday before in Amity) and stock up on milk and eggs so Sonny would have provisions if I was gone for a long time.  That night I showered in my very own shower and slept in my very own bed.  I'd talked to Mike on the phone and he'd warned me that the weather was going to be bad on Wednesday, so I left as soon as it got daylight hoping to be back in Little Rock in time for Mike's nine thirty surgery.  I did get there a little after nine, but when I got to his room Mike was gone.  I hurried down to the 2nd floor but Mike had already gone into the surgery rooms.  I missed him completely, but I checked in at the desk and waited until about noon when Doctor Nicholas came to talk to me and tell me that the surgery had gone fine.  (They talked about replacing Mike's knee, but they repaired the bone break and tissue damage instead using metal rods in the top of the bone and cement and sutures to put it all back in place to heal.)  Mike got out of recovery and back into his room a little after four.  And then it was a night of him being groggy or asleep and me watching tv or using my laptop.  Thursday was a day of Mike in pain.  There was not so much groaning as one might have expected though and several of Mike's family and friends called to talk to him.  The hospital is very efficient and comfortable and everyone who works there is very nice.  When the doctors made their rounds on Thursday they told Mike that he could go home as soon as he was ready.  On Friday they made arrangements for him to check out and about noon we headed for home.  Again it was a chore to take Mike from the car thru the garage, across the living area, up the stairs and down the hall into his bed. 

Now, all is well.  Mike is resting peacefully or awake watching tv or using his tablet, taking as little pain medication as he can and exercising, flexing his calf muscles and wiggling his toes and occassionally standing up beside his bed using his crutches and strengthening his good leg so it will hold all his weight.  I am still on double time having to take over some of his chores along with my own.  Thank goodness for Sonny who has taken on the rest of Mike's chores.  He has been wonderful cooking the three squares a day Mike needs to get back on his feet.  I think we will be going back to see Doctor Nicholas in Little Rock next Friday.  Meanwhile, on Monday a home health physical therapist should be coming to visit to make recommendations about what Mike might need.  There's nothing else to say about it all except ....get well soon, Mike.

A New Years Post...
I wrote this post as 2012 was drawing to a close.  It was hard for me, looking back, not to dwell on the sadness and pain and grief that came during the year, so this final entry took a long time for me to finish.

In 2012, I faced a parent's greatest nightmare, the worst fear of them all.  On the final day of January, the only daughter I birthed, Eva, died at the age of 44.  My grief has not ended. I miss Eva in my life. 

In October of 2012, my friend, my husband's mother, Norma Becknell died. My mother in law and I saw one another regularly for 30 years, from 1982 when her youngest son brought me home to meet his parents until the day of her death. We enjoyed coffee, garage sales, her husband Gadget (who died in 1996), their "full of personality" dogs, their wonderful friends and family, both new and old.  I liked Norma's artwork and portraits.  We had fun making beds and cleaning and cooking together.  The smallest things brought laughter and joys.  Together!.  After years of smoking together, we quit together.  Always through the years, we chatted together, we shopped together, and together we had a great time. Norma will always be a blessing to me.  I miss her in my life.

Last Thanksgiving I wrote the following--I am thankful for my children.  I will always wish that my daughter and my son had a better, fuller life, that they’d been able to travel more widely and meet more people and that they’d been exposed to more ways of doing things and seen more of life….but my best wishes for my daughter and my son are just one more way that I know I am thankful for them both.  I am thankful that my daughter, although she is an adult with a family and friends and problems and joys of her own, she stops sometimes and tells her mother that she loves her.  She doesn’t forget me.  I am thankful that my son although he is an adult, helps out with things that need to be done, cooks deliciously, steps in to lend a hand when things are too heavy or too much hard work, occupies himself without looking to me or my husband to keep him from being bored living in the country with no place to go…and he, too stops sometimes to tell his mother that he loves her.  

I would have to make changes to the note above.  My daughter died January 31, 2012.  I am thankful that I knew Eva from the moment of her birth until the time of her death, all  44 years of her life.  For her, I still grieve.  For her I always wished a wonderful life full of travel and people and ways of doing things and seeing things that would make her life one of blessings and joys.  May my daughter Eva now rest in peace.   As an adult with a family and friends and problems and joys of her own Eva always stopped to include me in her life and she always stopped to tell her mother that she loved her and that she hadn't forgotten me.  I am thankful for all the times we were together and will never forget a single one.  Sometimes my son and I talk and he tells me that he misses having Eva in his life.  It has been tearful for me to see and talk to my grandchildren, but I am thankful to know them both, parents today, I'm delighted to see Eva mirrored and see how she has given some of the best parts of herself to her children and in her grandchildren!

More about the old year

In the winter months of 2012, it never snowed.  It was very cold in the spring so I was late to put my winter garden plants into the ground.  We got baby chicks, but it was so cold for them that I worried how they would fare.  Spring came then after everything was covered in tiny green buds the weather froze one last time.  Our property taxes fell due and I hadn't saved enough money to pay them.  The price of gas was so high we stopped most of our traveling.  We stopped eating out.  I occupied much of my time looking for coupons and discounts and rearranging our spending habits, saving for the next taxes and insurance that would fall due.  Our stock market investment share value fell from a few dollars to a few cents and my IRA lost its worth.  In the summer months it was very hot and very dry.  There was no rain for long stretches and my garden simply burned up.  My electricity bill stayed healthy though, and my water bill.  I caught the flu Thanksgiving and was abed for a week before I went to the doctor to find out that the flu had evolved into pneumonia and that Mike, too had the flu.  The year ended with stormy weather and loss of electricity for long periods of time.  The world didn't end as predicted on December 21.

There were, however, in 2012 many pluses!  The chicks were fine and healthy.  In spite of my worries they grew up and started laying eggs before the summer was over! I enjoyed being a grandmother when Chloe and Trinity came and visited us for a couple of weeks in the summer.  My niece Crystal came and spent the night with us and brought her husband Mike and Alley, her teenage daughter.  In August I went to the Nagel Family Reunion held at the resort next door to my brother Doyle's farm in Gainsville, Texas.  Nagel is the last name of my maternal grandparents, my mother's parents.  I enjoyed seeing my Aunt and my Uncle who are still living and cousins and and their children and grandchildren.  I saw some of my forever friends, some cousins I had not seen in a long time,  and some cousins for the first time. My daughter Dawn came to visit for Thanksgiving and brought her son who is just learning to drive and her daughter who is in preschool.  The springtime was welcomed and was beautiful.  The summer included swimming and exploring.  The fall was a wall of vibrant color and brought holidays and love.  December brought Christmas and reminded me once more that my daughter was a wonderful person.  She was one of those people who, no matter how far away in time or distance was someone she called friend, she always remembered to let them know she loved them.  My mailbox was full to the brim with cards and letters from my own family and friends and also good wishes and hugs from those who loved and missed my daughter, sharing their own Christmas with me.  The world didn't end as predicted on December 21.

The New Year came in quietly.  Mike was asleep and Mike2 and I had only beer to make a toast with.  The neighbors shot few fireworks, so when  Mike2 found some old bottle rockets, we shot two of them into the sky and we each said "Happy New Year".  Welcome 2013! I will always remember 2012, but as the year draws to a close, I know that my memories will be full of both laughter and sadness...bittersweet.

It was a wonderful Thanksgiving....Mike's daughter came to visit with her sixteen year old son and her 4 year old daughter.  We had deep fried turkey with all the trimmings.  I made cornbread so we had cornbread dressing and rice dressing both.  I visited with my grandkids on Wednesday night and all day on Thursday, but on Thursday night I felt sick, feverish and achy and lots and lots of coughing and coughing and coughing all night long.  I felt so bad I didn't get up out of bed on Friday and so my daughter and her kiddos left for home that next evening.  I don't even remember Friday, or Saturday, or Sunday, and I barely remember Monday.  I had thought that by Monday if what I had was the flu I would be feeling better after five days of not much besides sleep to keep me going.  But Monday was no different, and neither was Tuesday.  Mike got sick on Monday...and so both of us were down.  Thank goodness for Sonny who cooked and fed us because Mike and I were both too week and dizzy and feverish to stay out of bed for long.  On Wednesday Mike and I felt good enough to go to the doctor.  He checked us both for the flu and said that Mike did indeed have the flu and put him on an antiviral.  He said that I was over all my flu symptoms and was not contagious...but I have pneumonia.  Since then I have slept a lot, have been eating light and drinking lots of fluids and taking my antibiotic every day the way the doctor ordered.  Tonight (It is December 2nd, Sunday night) I have eaten my dinner, taken my medication and feel like I am better today, still awake after being out of bed for a few hours.  Tomorrow should be even better!  I have three days of antibiotic left to take.