Chick's Country Corrected, by GJ

Have received comment from brother Chick's part of NW Illinois."Anonymous" says my guess about Lanark and Shannon is too far SE from Stockton to be the towns that sprang up on my great grandfathers' acreages. The writer wonders if two villages named Elizabeth and Scales Mound might have been the ones in question. Who knows? It doesn't really matter all that much, except that where railroads went, towns sprang up to accommodate them, with stores, banks, hotels, etc. (One rumor had it that two railroads crossed in one of those places, which probably resulted in a somewhat larger town, I'd think.) (Always glad to hear from you, "Anonymous." You sort of keep me honest!)

Mac Davis, a good buddy, by GJ

I would appreciate hearing from anybody who knows (or knew?) of Mac Davis. (Seems to me he lived in Washington State in 1984? Could it have been Spokane?) I corresponded with him quite a bit, and we enjoyed each other's jokes. He wrote some memoirs, too. If anyone wishes, I'd be glad to see if I can find them.

Mary Ellen Stelling, my poet laureate, by GJ

This is to inform Mary Ellen's fans that I may have some of her verse dating back to 1984 which has not appeared elsewhere. We communicated by letter and phone several times, but I never knew which might have surfaced in other media. I would appreciate hearing from anyone who enjoyed her work as much as I.

Henry W. Baumann, champion by Grandpa Jim

This is to reassure my readers that I have several great memoirs by Henry, dating back to 1984. Among them, are; "Those Fox-tail Reeds," "A Day at Rosedale Pond," and "Mr. Platz's Fishing Trip." If there is any response, I'll gladly try to post them.

"Chick's Country" by Grandpa Jim

My brother Chick always used to say that his part of far northwest Illinois was “God’s Country.” It’s not exactly the ONLY area that people call this, of course. Anywhere that there is some natural beauty and fierce pride qualifies, apparently.

If you are in the market for a tour, however, I’d recommend giving it a try. There is an old, genuine “river town” called Savannah, for instance. Coming from the east, you really drop down into the town, because eons ago, the Mississippi River etched out a deep ravine for itself.

Just east of Savannah is another small, old farm-town, Mount Carroll, the county seat of Carroll County. It is also the site of what used to be the Frances Shimer College for Women, and also for a short-lived television series of 20-some (?) years ago. I recall Savannah as the home of some distant cousins when I was small, and Mount Carroll as the home of one of the only movie theaters for miles around.

Just north of M.C. is a wide spot in the road called Pleasant Valley, the home of a close cousin when I was growing up. He was Willy Willson, a breeder of draft horses, mainly Belgians, I believe. I didn’t know until just a few years ago that Belgians, Clydesdales, and Percherons are all just about the same size. (I had always thought that Clydesdales were larger.)

North of P.V. is Stockton and the home of one of my grandfathers, who owned a harness shop. Legend has it that two of my ancestors received acreage (some say 150) as reward for military service. One was “Captain Tommy” Harrison, reportedly kin to President William Henry Harrison. These two great-grandparents are supposed to have been disappointed in the acreages and traded them. (One for the harness shop, a turn-key business, I presume.) Later, it is said, railroads bought up a lot of land that ran through these acreages, and towns grew up there to accommodate the railroads. (Yes, the acreages would have increased in value, perhaps greatly. The towns may have become Lanark and Shannon, possibly?)

Before I leave Mount Carroll too far behind, I need to mention that one of my grandfathers earned credits from the women’s college there! He worked part-time for the school, tending the furnaces in the winter, and was allowed to attend some classes as part of his wages.

I always though it was interesting that my late brother (Chick) was so proud of this area. After all, he didn’t move out there to live until he was 16! (He left school and home for a place that appealed to him more. I will never know of all his motives, and it doesn’t matter. There is evidence that he truly enjoyed working with, and being around, horses, and Willy was glad to have the help.) In my next post, I’ll add some more places in “Chick’s Country.”

Some following posts refer to this author’s experience in a large, affluent, suburban high school of 30 to 40 years ago. It wouldn’t surprise him if he were to discover that much has changed. It was, obviously, another time, another place. At the root of the matter, however, are some observations that contain some truths. Grandpa Jim has spent 30 years as a full-time high school teacher, and another 15 years as a part-time instructor on the elementary, community college, and university levels.

Van Delinder has wondered, in recent times, if maybe public education can long endure. He sees a terribly wide gulf between large and small, city and rural, modern and out-dated efforts to educate our young. There is little emphasis or practice in the skills of writing. There is little reward for delving into older literature, which was usually the basis for the modern writers. Mathematical ability seems to have declined deeply into the ranks of cashiers and tellers. One can point to example after example of how far education has fallen behind in many walks of life. Tradesmen seem to struggle with basic measurement, those who should be able to read blueprints can’t always do so, etc.

Please do not take personally his assault of that system he once knew. He protests not the victims of labeling, he questions the labels and those who resort to them. If one had only the labels “smart, dumb, and strictly average,” would you want your child (or anyone’s child) to have to enter that class, let’s say based on an IQ test?

Grandpa Jim welcomes all comments.

Mrs. has a Comment

Mrs has left a new comment on your post "Just a Christmas thought for today by GJ": I love Snickers Candybars, and I love Jean's, "When will I be married all of my life?" My grandmother married my grandfather when she was only 16. When asked if she felt as if she'd been married her entire life, she replied, "Only the best part." Looks like Jean feels the same way!

Just a Christmas thought for today by GJ

According to a booklet I found, the month Jean was born, February, 1930, the first red and green traffic light was installed. (I’m not sure how that really pertains to Jean, but there it is.) In November of 1930, the first non-stop flight from NY to Panama occurred. (That’s of indirect, highly questionable importance to today, I guess.) For you sports fans, the Detroit Lions played their first NFL game and won it, 13 to 6. (Very mean thought for today= have they won, since?)

In international news for the year 1930, Constantinople was renamed Istanbul, Donald Duck made his screen debut, as did the Lone Ranger on radio, and Blondie in comic strips. Here’s a flash…frozen foods are sold commercially for the first time.

Back to the sports page... (heads up, Janeene…The Packers were pro football’s champions.) The Indy 500 was won at an incredible speed of 100. 4 MPH. Babe Ruth signed a Yankee contract for two years worth $160,000. Yankee General Manager Ed Barrow is quoted as saying, “No one will ever be paid more.”

Life expectancy in 1930 was 59.7 years, and Jean has been married almost two years more than that. Actually, she has been married for 78% of her life. When we celebrated our 17th, I told her she had been married 50% of her life. When we celebrated our 34th, I told her she had been married for 66 2/3rds of her life. She asked me, “When will I have been married for all of my life?"

The inventions for 1930 included: twinkies, sliced wonder bread, and Jean’s favorite, Snickers candy bars. Cost of Living in 1930…new house…$7,146. Average income…$39 per week…new car…$610. Average rent…$15 per month…Tuition at Harvard…$400 per year…movie ticket, 25 cents….gasoline…10 cents/ gallon…postage stamp…2 cents…milk 56 cents per GALLON…fresh ground hamburger…13 cents/ pound…fresh baked bread…9 cents/loaf.

All I can conclude is that I praise the Lord every day for the 78 years He has given to Jean.

The Seven Days of Christmas

I just walked into our "quarters" and asked Jean if she were all right. She looked up from her book, peered over the top of her glasses, smiled, and said, "Fine." I told her I'd be back shortly, and came in to share with you what that does for my day. Here it is, almost the 62nd Christmas we have spent as husband and wife. Were all 62 perfect? Not at all. By far, though, the preponderance were wonderful. Was the ancient stable perfect? Not at all, but look who lay in the manger! And look at the witnesses! There are so very many little things that can make our holidays "happy," I pray that we can focus on them, rather than some of those things that seem like imperfections.

A brief memory that warms my heart right now is one Christmas with our son-in-law, David, no longer with us. I don't know where the balloon came from, but it had some sort of gas in it that compelled it upward. We happened to have a two-story living room, so when the balloon got away from one of the grandchildren, Dave walked up the stairway to retrieve it from the ceiling.

We both had the same idea...how much weight could the balloon hold and still rise? We fastened some sort of "basket," perhaps a match box, to the string and placed something in it and released it over near the stairway, of course. It took several tries, but eventually we found the proper number of paper clips or rubber bands or safety pins to make the balloon stay at floor level. I doubt if anyone recalls any particular gift, or what we had besides turkey, or even what the weather was, but those fifteen minutes or so have lasted many years.

May you find a similar, little thing, to enhance your day. Love, Jim.

A Christmas Idea by Grandpa Jim

Just had a thought that others might benefit from. If you know of anyone who needs, or would enjoy, or in any way deserves such attention, may I suggest a variation on the “12 Days of Christmas” theme?

I just finished my version, which is stickers for the girls. We have three great granddaughters, 7, 5, and 3. Like all little ones, they enjoy stickers. I made out 36 envelopes, put in a handful of stickers, many of them different from their sister’s supply, tagged with numbers from 12 to 1, and dated them. They’ll be instructed to open one each day and that, alone, is kind of fun for them.

But it doesn’t have to be stickers, and it doesn’t have to be for kids. I once did this for a woman who has become a valued member of our extended family. She is a single, retired missionary who had to go up to Pennsylvania for her job several years back. Because she was away for the holidays, and ill part of the time, I thought it might make it easier for her to have twelve packages to open while there. There was nothing all that major in those presents, maybe an ornament, as I recall. I won’t try to list them here.

Now there is nothing all that essential about the number 12 if one can’t get it done in time.
Plan B would be to label the project 12 (cross out) 11 (cross out) and then “The 10 Days of Christmas.” (The 12 start on Sunday.) Plan C, of course, would be to postpone until Christmas of 2009, save up ideas, take advantage of sales, and make it a “whopper.”

I guess I can’t help but think about those people who find Christmas lonely, or isolated, or shut in, or whatever…maybe even neglected?

One could even put 12 (or whatever number) of different greeting cards in the envelopes, couldn’t they? Some could be seasonal, but some could be humorous, maybe? Some stores have a lot of “miniatures” which might work well.

If someone lives near enough, you could deliver one each day. Even anonymously? (Careful, Jim, you’ll get carried away here and you surely have been accused of THAT before.) Good luck! And Merry Christmas!

THE response to "Places" challenge by Donna

Donna Magliano has left a new comment on your post ""A SOD Story," by Grandpa Jim": My "take" on the end of 'Places In The Heart':I think the characters who "appear" to be sitting in the church pew with Sally Fields and her children at the end of the film, are literally the people who had a place in her heart. So even though they are gone she still carries them in her heart. Such as her husband, even the young man who shot him, and, of course her handyman. The SOD is that they appear to be sitting there, but they are not. Donna

S. O. D. Thoughts by Grandpa Jim

Before I see if any responses come in, and thus before I might be influenced by them, I’ll put down my own ideas.

Ninety-nine percent of “Places…” is quite down-to-earth realistic. Everything about it seems historically accurate. From the script to the credits, it is a marvelous movie. It deserved even more Oscars than it won.

Only in that final setting of the church service do we need to suspend our disbelief. There are people in the pews “who couldn’t be there.”

Yes, they couldn’t be in that church, in reality.

They could be “in our hearts,” of course, just as they are in the hearts of those sitting next to them. If we can accept this, we can be saddened and uplifted at the same time as the camera scans the players.”

My mother, who has been gone for 72 years, seems beside me and in church when certain hymns are sung. (She often hummed them as she went about the housekeeping.) My father, who has been gone for 47 years, seems beside me at odd times, because I am reminded of funny things he was in the habit of saying. For one, as we would cross the bridge from Illinois, he would take an audible, deep breath and remark, “can’t you just smell that fresh, Iowa air?”

Our late great-granddaughter, Ellie, looks over my shoulder whenever I pass sticker displays.