CYCLES OF THE PAST

Professor C. Denson Hill (otherwise known as our Denny) sent the following to me to share with the Class of ’57. I think you’ll enjoy it as much as I did. I was disappointed it didn’t come with a picture of him on his new unicycle.

"From the time I was in Jr. High, and throughout my High School days, in the summer, I used to go swimming almost every day. I would ride my bicycle there. As you probably remember, there was a quite steep hill leading down to the pool in the park. My bike was an old "Western Flyer", without gears like the modern bikes. If you stepped hard on the brakes, the back wheel would lock up. Since there was usually a bit of sand or fine gravel, especially toward the bottom of the hill, you could manage to "fish-tail" your bike, as you slid to a dramatic stop right near the front of the pool. Probably already in the 7th grade I learned how to go very fast at the top of the hill, then lock up the brakes, and fish-tail-all-the-way-down the hill, without falling down, just managing to stop right in front of the girls hanging out by the pool. 

I thought I was so cool!

A bit later, on level ground in front of my house, I practiced until I learned how to ride my bike backwards: You sit on the handle bars, pedal your feet backwards, and there is really no problem, except it is hard to see just where you are going; you have to look over your shoulder. In a few weeks I got to be rather good at it. So I would make figure eights, riding backwards, on the street in front of my house. It was natural to put the two things together. I started at the bottom of the hill, going down into the park, and tried locking up my brakes and doing a little fish-tail, while sitting on the handle bars and going backwards. Of course I fell down a few times, and skinned up my elbows and knees, but that was standard at that age. Finally I got it down. So to "impress" the girls even more, I would start at a good rate of speed at the top of the hill, sitting backwards on the handle bars, and fish-tail-all-the-way-down. There were times when it got really hairy, but fortunately I had practiced, so I was always able to (barely) pull it off before totally wiping out. In those days there was never any thought of wearing a bicycle helmet (I don't think I had ever even seen a bike helmet, up to that point in my life). Sometimes I did scare myself, but I don't think I ever really thought about how serious an injury one might get by falling down such a steep hill, at speed, and landing on your head. So everything went OK. (Now, I shudder and feel goose bumps when I think about it.) Having mastered the backwards steep hill fish-tail, with all of  my weight right above the front wheel, and with the back wheel swinging back and forth, acting like a rudder, I started to think that maybe the back wheel was not so important after all. 

That was when I decided that I should get a (homemade) unicycle, and learn to ride it. Of course that had to be done on level ground. After some really badly skinned knees and elbows, I soon learned to just step off the unicycle a microsecond before falling down. That way, you were left standing on your feet, and the poor unicycle went tumbling. After 4 or 5 days of practice, I finally learned how to stay up for a long time, and was able to ride a considerable distance before getting too tired to continue. But since unicycles do not have brakes, I was never able to do anything
on the hill going down to the park, except very slowly inch my way
down.

So if you ask: "Why did you decide to learn to ride a unicycle in high school?" I would say that "The hill made me do it." 

PS: As I write this, from my office at Stony Brook University, there is a unicycle here, just behind me. I had not touched one for maybe 35 years, so I didn't know if I could still do it. But, just to check it out, I bought one, and discovered that it is just like typing or swimming: I can still do it, but of course not as skillfully as before."

Editor:
Denny remembered it was a Western Flyer bicycle. The photo I put with this is probably very similar -- early 1950s. However, his was yellow and black with streamers from the handles.

Isn't it amazing how the City Park hill brings back memories to all of us? I think Denny's experiences riding backwards down the hill is even more dangerous than the boys riding on an old car hood. But maybe Coach Gosney would have thought teaching young teenage girls how to park on that hill would be the one most likely to end in an accident of some sort!

I'd still like to hear some of the "love stories" out there. There's never enough love in the world.

And don't forget... "Good stuff happens."

Marilyn

WINTER WONDERLAND

Classmate Gene Routh sent these beautiful photos. Pretty to look at, but makes one appreciate living where there is less snow and more spring-like weather in the winter. This part of Texas fits the bill!

"These pictures were taken just before Halloween 2006. We had about 24-30 inches of heavy wet snow in about 18 hours. No one moved for two days until the roads were cleared. If it weren't for my trusty snow blower, we would have been stuck for a week. Luckily, we haven't had a storm like this one this year. I still am looking forward to Spring. Front range Colorado has been cold and lots of snow, but nothing like Wolf Creek and the western part of the state...

Glenn's rodeo story was funny. That last photo you had on your Blog looked like the 4-mile causeway close to Glenn Smith's house to me. (It was!) I enjoyed the beautiful young ladies in the snow also.

I have been doing very well, saw my orthopedist last week for my six month post op on the ankle, and I am basically totally healed. I have enough hardware in my ankle to thoroughly alarm the airport security people, but I can live with that.

Keep up the good work on the Blog, it's nice to have a central spot to share memories with friends.
Tell all hello for me."

Nydah Ellet sent me the following update:

"I am making good progress. (Remember, she had knee replacement surgery in December.) I do not quite dance yet, but I do ballet barre stretches at home. I am doing out patient physical therapy for another week and then I am on my own.

I have not worked at my job in sooo long that I no longer want to do it. I have discovered that it is just great to be retired as I have lots more interests I have neglected for the past few years."

Editor's Note:
She went on to tell me she has plans to put together a book of her dad's memories, clippings, and notes over a twenty year period, as well as delve into her family genealogy. Nydah also indicated she wishes to get back to ballroom dancing soon. You go, girl!

Susan Herring Stahl wrote the following:

"Have you identified the 'snow bunnies'? I think one is Jerry Ann, one is Ruth Ann and one is Virginia, but not sure about the other two. I remember the one on the far left...don't think she graduated with us...just no name comes to me....alas!"

The 'snow bunnies' are Barbara Campbell Witte, who was our classmate for a while; yes, Jerry Ann Pruser Eaton, Virginia Harral Egan, Ruth Ann Henniger Wood, and (drum roll, please!) the bobby soxer on the far right is none other than June Hash Curry. I have to tell you all that June did not recognize herself!

"Was the other photo 3-mile crossing? or was it 5-mile crossing....? or was it some-other-mile crossing?" (Close, Susan. It was the 4-mile crossing on Elm Creek.)

Editor's Note:
Susan went on to say how much she enjoyed the anecdote submitted by Glenn Smith. Glenn, we could use another one of your little stories. How about one of your flying stories?

And, James... I hear you love to tell your flying stories. How about one from you, too?

In the last ten days I have been to Plano to visit my sister and my mother, who is in a nursing home, as well as my dad who lives in Mineral Wells. While in Dallas I stayed at a hotel with my daughter Carajean and my oldest granddaughter, Audrey, who was there to audition for the SMU School of Dance. We saw a unique ballet performed by the students at SMU. I also got in some visiting with my son Craig, who was kind enough to chauffeur me around.

I think of how scattered most families are today, and I sometimes long for a time when everyone in a family lived in or near the same community -- often the grandparents living in the same home with children and grandchildren. My father is still very independent at 89, but it is a lot to expect of someone his age to travel all over to visit family. Modern airports don't make it any easier on us as we age, either. The last time I flew to Amarillo to see my daughter, it took 8-hours from the time I left San Angelo! I can drive there in 4 or 4 and a half hours, but that is not something the kids want me to do alone. Do any of you get frustrated as I do at the difficulty experienced in visiting children and family members who live at a distance? As much as I love them, I am always glad to get home again!

February is the month of love. How about sending me some of your love stories? Check out the new slideshow in honor of February. There is a black and white photo of a honeymoon kiss. Can anyone guess who this couple is? One is a classmate -- and no, it is not me! This couple celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary this past summer.

Until next time remember, "Good Stuff Happens!"

Marilyn

BABY, IT'S COLD OUTSIDE

Who says it never snows in Ballinger?

This picture, if you haven't already guessed, was taken while we were in high school. Notice the cars parked on the right. How about those bobby sox and loafers? Can any of you name every one of the teen cuties in the picture?

In regards to the Ballinger baseball team that Jim Cowlishaw talked about, Jerry Eoff wrote that he thinks there was one named Ballinger Cats, a member of the original Longhorn League started in the mid-40s that included other teams such as the San Angelo Colts, Carlsbad Potashers, Odessa, and Artesia -- one was the Drillers and the other the Oilers. There were more teams in the league that he doesn't recall. He remembers "Stormy" Davis, a power hitter for the Cats, who was killed by being hit in the head by a pitch.

Eskell Powell, later a Ballinger Police Chief, came here as a player for the Cats, according to Jerry's recollection, and he thinks the Cats were a pro team. One team in the league was a farm team for one of the big leaguers, and Pee Wee Reese (even I remember him!), later a big league star shortstop (wasn't he with the Brooklyn Dodgers?), played on one of the teams.

Jerry says he has home movies of his Pony League team playing in what was called "Cat Park" in 1955. The scoreboard showed "Westerners". Perhaps there was a semi-pro team then. Cat Park was on top of the hill on the Bronte Highway a mile or so past the new high school when these movies were taken. Those have got to be fun movies to watch! Jerry, who were your teammates at that time?

There is a new feature (I know -- again?). I apologize to the January birthday folks for being late to put this out. Happy belated birthday to Jerri, Charles, and Tommy. And Paul - have a great day tomorrow. In the future I will post the birthdays at the beginning of the month. If your (or someone you know) birthday isn't here, please let me know.

If you wish to leave a comment, just click on "Comments" at the end of the article and follow the directions. They come through me first so I can keep "spam" comments or anything obscene or too offensive from being put there by strangers. I will also make minor corrections to spelling, etc.

Medical updates: Peggy Sharp says she is feeling like her old self. I am too, other than a little shortness of breath. I see a pulmonary specialist tomorrow to see if I need to do something about that. I haven't heard from Gene Routh lately, nor from Rosalyn Hoelscher... however, she sent me a forwarded email, so I know she's at home! I hope both of you are still well on the road to complete recovery!

James Hays is putting in two days a week at his Coleman medical office, and the rest of the time he's working on his old planes and guns. He sounds glad to have one of his sons now practicing radiology in Brownwood.

Did any of you play the "If" game with me? "If you had the ability to change three things in this world, what would you change?" I'll share my answers with you:

1) End all wars forever. 2) End poverty, and, therefore, all hunger in the world. 3) Stop global warming now!

Ahhh...if only we could accomplish even one of the above. What a difference it would make in the world for our children and grandchildren.

Does anyone recognize this spot?

Until next time, remember, Good Stuff Happens!
Marilyn

COURTYARD MEMORY

I wish I had asked someone knowledgeable about the history of Ballinger -- like Jerry Eoff -- when this pretty little courtyard with fountain and gazebo, across the street from the courthouse, was built. He did give me some information about the old advertising sign painted on the adjacent Petroleum Building, which now houses Home Healthcare services. His mother was a staunch advocate of many of the historic buildings around town, including the Carnegie Library and the old German Church located on the corner of 6th and Strong Avenue. It seems that Mrs. Eoff is responsible for saving this wonderful example of early American advertising as well. I remember when farmers made money by allowing such advertisements to be painted on their barns. By the way, you may not be able to tell, but this is for a brand of tobacco.

Jerry also gave me a lot of interesting information about pro and semi-pro baseball teams in Ballinger at one time. Sort of a followup on something brought up by Jim Cowlishaw recently. I will post that in a future issue of the blog. I am running late to head for the airport in San Angelo to catch a flight to Dallas for the weekend.

Rumor has it that Bob and Ann Burton, Ter Cothran, and girlfriend are headed for a cruise to Mexico this weekend. Ann: take some photos for me for the blog!

Ah, yes.... Good stuff happens!

Marilyn

HE DIDN'T GET THE JOB

I was happy to go to ACC to get away from all the farm work. I spent freshman year changing majors every six weeks or so. By sophomore year, I had tried nearly all academic emphases except agriculture. I still needed a major so I tried Agriculture, figuring 18 years on a working farm would give me a head start. A new faculty member taught Intro to Ag. He made up for his ignorance of farming by forming a rodeo club. "Join the club or drop the course," he announced. I elected to drop but discovered it was too late. Our first project was to sponsor a rodeo.

"Do you like a bucker or a twister?" Jock or Jake or Jack--I forget his name, sitting in front of me--turned to ask. I should have said "neither," but if you were in the club you had to ride something. I said, "Oh . . . a twister." "Me, too. I'm putting us both down for twisters." Five weeks later on a Saturday night I was in Clyde, 20 miles east of Abilene, sitting on a bull named something like "Awful" or "Devil" . . maybe it was "Awful Devil." I was to follow Jock who was on his twister in the chute behind me, making adjustments as he waited to ride. Some anonymous cowboy had helped us put on chaps. He had tied with rawhide the big rowels on our Mexican spurs so they couldn't turn. "When the chute gate opens, dig your spurs in and hang on," he advised wrapping the rope around Awful Devil's chest, then round and round my gloved right hand as he poured resin on to keep it from slipping. Jock signaled; his chute gate swung wide. His bull exploded into the arena. Jock hung on with dedication but something was wrong. He began slipping to the right with every jump. And with each thud, Jock rotated more. Soon he was under the bull, still holding on, dirt and hooves flying as the big animal bounced him against the ground. The 8 second signal blasted--two seconds after the bull's left back foot struck Jock in the solar plexus and slid down to the ground between his legs. Whirring red lights as the ambulance lumbered into the arena. Jock lay motionless, eyes closed, no sound as medics rolled him onto a gurney, hoisted and slid it like an ice tray into a freezer. Ambulance flashing and leaving, I nodded yes.

The chute gate opened. Stetson high in left hand, spurs pressing hard, I gripped the rope as Awful Devil jumped higher and came down harder than I thought anything could, knocking the breath from me with every crash landing. Still I thought to hang on, thinking 7 of the 8 seconds must have already elapsed. Then the left spur rowel cut through its rawhide. As my body rotated the bull went up again, twisting to the right. I pictured Jock carted away lifeless, and relaxed my right hand. Awful Devil dropped away like a spent booster at Cape Canaveral as I rocketed upward . . . then floated. . . and . . . floated. Hat still waving, grin permanently lockjawed, I sat there on a cloud, looking at individual faces in the crowd, watching the clowns tempt Awful Devil further away.

The photographer's second snap showed me high in the air, both legs extended parallel to the ground, right hand between my legs as if still gripping the rope, Stetson salute extended, my face wearing a broad grin. Then I hit, in seated pose, legs stretched parallel to the ground. I was scrambling out of the arena adjusting my Stetson when the 8 second buzzer honked. I decided it was safer to read about other people's adventures than to participate, so I changed my major to History.

Four decades later a physician studied x-rays of my S-shaped spine: "Looks like life's road had some pot holes," he said……… by Glenn Smith

**********************************

Okay, all you storytellers out there, send me your stories! They don't have to be very long. A paragraph or two. Let us hear about some event in your life. Something from high school or growing up in Ballinger...something funny that happened during the intervening years...a highlight of your career...anything you wish to share with us!

In the meantime, remember "GOOD STUFF HAPPENS"

Marilyn

GOODBYE DIANE

As I looked at the calendar today, I realized it is the one-year anniversary of the death of a very good friend and former co-worker. She was a beautiful young woman -- too young to die. Last year I was unable to attend her funeral, however, I wrote this little piece for her sister Carin and their wonderful family. Carin had asked us to remember the laughter and humor of knowing Diane. These were some of my memories. A portion of this was read at her funeral service.

My tribute to a beautiful little spirit...

GOODBYE DIANE

Perhaps one would have to know Diane and me really well to understand what I am about to relate; to know our backgrounds and the parallels therein. A few incidences, about which I will not go into detail, are our relationships with the men in our lives, and the dealings she and I both had at one time with IRS. I will say that the latter really turned out to be beneficial to each of us in the long run. The following events will remain in my memory as long as my memory continues to serve me!

When I started to work at Horn-Chandler-Thomas, Inc. in early 1995, Diane and I had both been through more than our share of rough years, however, she was already way ahead of me in putting the past behind her, and paving the road to success in front of her. From time to time, though, we would play “woe is me” with each other. 

I remember the time I came to work upset because I had seen a small snake in my bathroom. My little dog Fancy chased the snake under the bathtub – an old fashion claw foot tub, and I assumed the snake got out the same way it got in. Perhaps through a hole around a water pipe. (As it turned out, that was not the case…it went down my bathtub drain creating a monster plumbing problem!) As I was telling my “horror” story, I wondered why I was not getting the response I had expected. Carin sat at her desk with a slight grin on her face. Then Diane proceeded to tell me about the 4 foot long snake she had once discovered in her kitchen. (She never found out where it went!) Or the snake that dropped down on her as she was getting a sweatshirt off a shelf in her closet. Even today, that story raises goose bumps on me. 

Then she told me about the night she saw the snake stretched out on her windowsill as she was getting undressed for bed. Already unclothed except for her underpants, she quickly grabbed her cowboy boots and put them on, while picking up a short piece of 1X4 that she used to prop open the window. (She and I both were living in very rustic places.) By now the snake had dropped down onto the floor and Diane quickly pressed the end of the 1X4 behind its head. As the floor was carpeted, she couldn’t get enough pressure to kill the snake. Then she realized her predicament. What was she going to do now? 

You know, I don’t remember how she resolved that dilemma, but the picture in my mind of Diane naked except for cowboy boots and panties, bending over with a piece of wood holding down a snake in the middle of the night has caused me to laugh out loud many a time through the years. We laughed together that day, although I know it wasn’t funny when she was experiencing it.

As time passed, we shared more misadventures of our lives in the country. I complained about having squirrels get into my walls and attic. She countered with “How would you like to have skunks spraying under your house and keeping you awake nights?!” At one point, even her clothing had to be de-scented! 

I dealt with my squirrels and she dealt with the skunks the best we could. Then I had an influx of rats that must have been getting in where the squirrels did. One morning I reached under my kitchen sink without looking and tried to get the Windex to clean my glasses before leaving for work. Imagine my shock when I got bit by something! I screamed, Fancy started barking like crazy, and before I could get the broom, she had a large rat by the neck and was shaking it! I cried, wet my pants, and the rat died. As soon as I was able to speak, I called work to tell them I would be a little late. It turned out the rat bite didn’t break the skin, and the animal control officer told me to not worry about it. Everyone at work had a good laugh on me this time. I got busy and had my son help me seal places we thought the rodents were getting in.

Not to be outdone in the “misadventure department”, I believe it was that spring that Diane went out to her car one night with a long house robe on. As she walked back to her house from the drive, she was rushed by a skunk! It chased her, biting at her and catching the edge of her robe in its teeth. She yelled for a friend who had stopped by to come help her. As he rushed out the front door with a broom, the skunk ran in the front door and began spraying the house! They finally got the skunk out somehow. The end result was Diane had to take the painful series of rabies shots as the skunk was found to be rabid. Whoa! I had to agree that was much worse than my measly little rat bite.

Are you seeing a pattern here? However inadvertently, Diane was my teacher during those years. It was as though she were showing me, “If I can triumph over this, surely you can overcome your problems, too.” And hers were always bigger and worse somehow than what I had to deal with. It’s funny, though, that the smallest of creatures created the situations that caused each of us to give up on our country living and move on in life. The squirrels brought tiny little mites into the insulation of my walls and ceiling. They were impossible to get rid of in an affordable manner. As I was trying to decide what to do – and feeling like I was being eaten alive at times, Diane discovered that the country house she was living in and thinking of buying was infested with termites! I was outdone again!

During my final winter at the Barn, I became very ill. I really thought my time had come as I waited on the paramedics that night. I made all kinds of promises to God. When I was admitted to the hospital, the doctors thought I had pneumonia. Then an x-ray indicated a mass in one lung. I knew the moments when Carin and Diane and our group of Unity friends began to pray. I could feel – and at odd moments I thought I saw a physical presence in my room, and I was comforted. Two days later, a subsequent x-ray showed no mass at all.

When Carin emailed me this past December and said Diane had been admitted to the hospital with pneumonia, my first thought was how our lives still seemed to parallel. However, it had been seven years since my hospitalization. I had gone on to sell my property and move out of state. Diane had bought a brand new home and moved on to greater professional success. We both seemed to be over the rough spots. What was going on now? 

As I waited one Sunday to hear results of Diane’s tests, I stood at my back door drinking coffee and staring at a small hawk sitting on the fence not 15 feet from my door. I have bird feeders in the back yard, and I was feeling somewhat badly that I had attracted this predator, endangering my smaller feathered friends. As the CD I had put on played the 5th, 6th, and 7th songs, I began to realize this hawk was there for a reason. He and I never lost eye contact, even as he turned around on the fence. I finally went to my native lore books on animals and birds and rediscovered that hawks are known as messengers. He had a message for me. By now, I knew I must check my email. Sure enough, I received the sad message that Diane’s diagnosis was not good. She had a mass in her lung, too. 

This little hawk had never been in my yard before. The days that followed his appearance were full of prayers and messages regarding Diane. Everyone was pulling for a complete recovery of this bright, talented, generous, warm, beautiful loving spirit. As she prepared to leave the hospital to go to her own home for a short while, I prepared to make the trek to see her, planning to stay and be of help to her and the family. I had put a note out for the mailman, packed my bags and put them by the door to be loaded into my car when the telephone rang. It was Carin. When she told me Diane had left us earlier that morning, I moaned and walked with the telephone in my hand to the back door. 

As Carin told me of Diane’s last day and her brief visit to her home, consoling me, and assuring me how close Diane was to us still, I looked out my back door and saw the hawk had returned. In a tree this time, but keeping watch the entire time Carin and I shared our grief over Diane. I told her I felt this beautiful bird was a messenger from Diane telling me “goodbye”..

~~~

I can picture you now, my little friend, riding your beautiful horse -- long, golden hair blowing in the wind -- in an endless field of wildflowers, forever young. I learned a lot from you; I hope you learned a little from me. So until our next meeting, maybe in another lifetime.. ”Goodbye, Diane”. Your time with us was much too short. Perhaps the next time, we will be comparing all the good things happening in our lives.

With much love,
Marilyn

ACT III

Last year was a milestone for us. Of course, the 50^th Class Reunion was a real biggy! However, do you all catch yourselves asking “What’s Next”? I do. Now we also are in the zone of making resolutions for the coming year. I catch myself saying this is really going to be my year! My year for what? What is it I wish to do now in Act III of my life? And will I be physically able to do it? After all, didn’t I just have a heart attack two months ago? Is it too late to accomplish anything of any significance? Lots of questions!

A year or so ago I watched Jane Fonda being interviewed by Larry King. (I hated her – she looked so youthful and glamorous, and she’s older than we are!) She captured my attention when she spoke to him about how she looks at the stages of her life. To paraphrase what she said, life is one long drama – like a three-act Broadway play. In today’s world of better health, fitness, and medical advances, it’s feasible that each of us can live to an average age of 90. If you divide that by three, the first thirty years of our life is Act I, the second 30 years is Act II, and at age 60, each of us began the Third Act of our life drama. Jane went on to say that typically, in a three-act play, the Third Act is the time the whole play “comes together”, starts making sense, and reaches the conclusion.

Hey guys! We are well into Act III! Is it making sense yet? Are we solving the mystery; is good winning out? Are we getting our just rewards? Are we finally reaching a pinnacle of sorts? What kind of drama are you acting in? What is your role?

Marianne Williamson has written some books in the past that put a new spin on my outlook as a woman. (i.e., “A Woman’s Worth”) This morning I received an email from a publishing house I subscribe to regarding her newest book. I haven’t read it yet, but the excerpt sounds intriguing. Especially with the questions I (and maybe you) have been asking myself about “the future”. Here is the excerpt I read:

“Sometimes what we appear to have lost is simply something it was time to leave behind. Perhaps our system just lets something go, our having moved through the experience and now needing it no more. A friend of mine was sitting once with two of his best friends, a couple he'd partied long and hard with during the 1960s. At about ten in the evening the couple's twenty something daughter came home, saw them on the couch, and admonished them, "You guys are so boring! You never go out!" To which all three responded in unison, "We were out, and now we're in."

The mind is its own kind of dance floor. What this generation could do from our rocking chairs could literally rock the world. If in fact the highest, most creative work is the work of consciousness, then in slowing down we're not doing less; we're doing more. Having slowed down physically, we're in a better space to rev up psychically. We are becoming contemplative. We are shifting from the outer to the inner not in order to begin our demise, but to reseed and regreen the consciousness of the planet. And that's what is happening now: We're going slower in order to go deeper, in order to go faster in the direction of urgently needed change.” ……………Marianne Williamson, ”The Age of Miracles”

My fascination with the old familiar places, structures, and buildings in this town stems from a fear of losing something of value in a place where I experienced such joy at an important time in my life. Just as we are losing so much of our planet – the ice caps, the rainforests, the water tables, the animals, etc., due to our neglect and/or misuse of the earth’s resources, I feel a certain amount of pain when I see small towns like Ballinger starting to decay. I feel an urgency to capture some of these old structures before it is too late.

Many have done so before. I recently heard that Jerry Eoff’s mother was among those responsible for saving the Carnegie Library, and even a huge painted sign on the side of a brick building downtown. She helped save an old stone church, also. I plan to photograph more of these and post them in the near future.

From one of my daily inspirational readings, this one from “A Cherokee Feast of Days” by Joyce Sequichie Hifler:

“All that has been a part of the important past is a part of this more important present. We are bits and pieces of who we were yesterday and all the many yesterdays..This is the turning point, the place where we begin to see over the hill and around the bend… What might have been cannot govern or grieve us… Better, happier and more joy-filled times are looking for us. And they have found us.”

I’m not certain what all this reflection I am experiencing will amount to, but it won’t go away. I leave you with this question from a little game I like to play sometimes. It’s called “If”:

“If you had the ability to change three things in this world, what would you change?" Think about it. Can we still “rock the world”? 

Good Stuff Happens,

Marilyn

ROCK BRIDGE AT CITY PARK

Today I received the following from Peggy (Branham) Krumlinde. I believe she sent it to all of our class, but I wanted to put it together with the picture of the bridge. Also, to remind all of you to check out Peg's online store. She has some really neat things, and a good sale going on now!

"If I remember correctly, that little rock bridge at the park is where our Brownie Troop (Rena Northington was our Brownie Leader) met for our day camp one year; I have pictures of the group and will try to find them. We had a "Style Show" one day and the runway was that same little rock bridge - at one time there were either rock or cement benches down a little way from the bridge and that is where the "judges" sat.

That is one of my fondest memories of that period of my life - we were so young and didn't realize at the time what a blessing living and growing up in Ballinger really was. Great memories!"
Peg's Online Store!www.cookwarecottage.com

I'm looking forward to seeing the pictures of the Brownies! Perhaps Peg will scan them and email them to the blog.

In 2007, we said goodbye to three of our former classmates that I know of: Jimmy Smith, Manuel Alvarez, and Barbara Ferguson Rollwitz. A few days ago I received this from Bill King:

"This is to notify my friends and family of the loss of my sweet little step granddaughter in Denver, CO." Her name was Emily Hansen, and she was only 18-years-old.

It is so difficult to lose a loved one whether young or old. My condolences to the families of each of the above.

I'm sure you all have noticed some of the additions to the blog. The music box and two slideshows. You may click on a song you wish to hear or click on the big arrow at the top and it will shuffle them around and play the entire song for you.

When you move your mouse over a picture in the slideshow, you will see two arrows and a pause button. You may go back or forward to view, or just let it run on its own. If you double click on the picture, it will take you to the web album so you can see the titles/names of each picture. You may also order copies of the pictures from the web album.

I've been asked again to mention the "COMMENTS" at the bottom of each new post. If there is a zero there, no comments have been made. If you click on "Comments", you may read any that have been made or send one of your own.

I have lots of ideas, photos, and stories waiting in the wings. I just need to get this formatted to suit me. I really do want to hear your own ideas, criticisms, and stories, and will do my best to put your old or new family photos here. As all of you know, I recently left off an email that I thought might hurt feelings or cause too much controversy if I posted it. I really don't want this blog to be a forum for political opinions. There are enough of those already out there. Now if one of our members decides to run for office, that's another matter!

Weren't the photographs from Gene Routh marvelous??? Of course, shortly after those were taken, Colorado had that horrendous storm! Let us see what it looked like at your house after the storm, Gene. We have had temperatures in the 70s the past three days!

Until next time......remember "Good Stuff Happens",
Marilyn

THE ARCHERS' MIRACLE

My children spent the Christmas holidays together at my daughter, Carajean Archer's home in Amarillo. Her husband Branch's sister wanted them to join her and her children for a weekend ski trip to Wolf Creek, Colorado. My oldest granddaughter Audrey didn't want to go, so my son Matthew and his wife Amy said they would stay in Amarillo over the weekend, keep Audrey company, and be there when the Archers returned to celebrate New Year's Eve. My oldest, Craig and his son Cameron went back to Dallas.

The weather was bitter cold in Colorado, preventing the younger two children, Ashlyn 13, and Tanner 9, from really enjoying the skiing. They decided to come home early on Sunday. Even though they checked the weather report before leaving the resort, about two hours into their return trip, they experienced a sudden storm. Wind gusts of 65-mph, blew snow across the highway, which immediately turned to ice. (This same storm system shut down a long stretch of Interstate near Denver, stranding thousands of travelers.) Theirs was the first car in a string of accidents that sent cars off the road. Terrifyingly, they spun around on the highway, rolled into the ditch, and landed upside down, dangling from their seat belts. It had been only a few minutes since Carajean had told Ashlyn to rebuckle her seat belt, after she was searching for something in the car. (First miracle!) The children had taken their shoes off for travel and Carrie immediately thought of the possibility of their suffering from exposure. No one was stopping to assist them, and she was scared the car would catch on fire.

They got out of the car quickly, scrambling and sliding across the frozen highway, as cars began to slow, stop, and to slide off the road. Fortunately, one of them was an off-duty State Trooper who saw them flip over and already had called for an ambulance. (Second miracle!)

They were at La Veta, Colorado and the ambulance arrived quickly. The EMTs checked all of them for injuries, and kept them in the ambulance for over an hour to keep them warm while they attended to other victims of this sudden wind-blown storm. Miraculously, other than a few bumps, minor cuts, and bruises none of the Archers was injured! (Third miracle!)

The temperature with the wind chill factor was well below zero by now. The children watched as one impatient driver went around the stopped cars, having a head-on collision with a semi. Unbelievably, he only had his ear almost sliced off. Ashlyn and Tanner watched as he had it sewn back on by the EMTs. The State Trooper, much to the children's delight, took them to a nearby Inn in La Veta. He told them how lucky they were that they went off the road where they did. (Miracle number four!) Two miles further there was a 70-foot drop off!
By now Carajean had tried to call home to tell Matthew and Amy what happened. Her cell phone batteries were nearly dead, and the storm had caused a power outage in the town that increased our worry and anguish over their conditions. There was a flurry of anxious calls between all of us, and finally, at 9:00 pm Sunday night, I got to talk to Carrie and was reassured that they really were all right!

It was decided that Matthew would leave Amarillo the next morning and drive his 4-wheel drive Toyota, equipped with snow tires, to retrieve the family. He estimated the drive would take around 4 or 5 hours at most, but there was a snowstorm at Clayton, New Mexico that stretched the trip to six hours!

Yesterday was one of the longest days of my life. The unpredictable weather... worry over how the wreck might be affecting everyone in its aftermath... and Matthew turning around and driving another six hours... This mother's heart was heavy and I did not relax until I got the word they had safely arrived in Amarillo. (To me, this was another miracle... and evidence of prayers answered!)

I talked to one grateful young mother this morning. She said seeing Matthew drive up in that "safe" car was very reassuring, and that she was never so glad to get home. She vowed they would never drive to a ski resort again. I told Matthew he was "my hero" many times over. "No big deal", he answered. Oh, yeah... it was a very big deal!

Marilyn

SEND NEW YEAR'S GREETINGS TO THE TROOPS

This was sent to me by Jerri (Jerlene Piel) Steel during the Christmas holidays. I did it, and I think it is a great idea.

Marilyn


Something cool that Xerox is doing

If you go to this web site, www.LetsSayThanks.com you can pick out a thank you card and Xerox will print it and it will be sent to a soldier that is currently serving in Iraq You can't pick who gets it, but it will go to some member of the armed services.

How AMAZING it would be if we could get everyone we know to send one!!! This is a great site. Please send a card. It is FREE and it only takes a second.

Whether you are for or against the war, our guys and gals over there need to know we are behind them...