National Christmas Tree Lighting

It was an unusually warm day for December 3 - about 60 degrees - but it got cooler and windy after the sun went down. Security checkpoint

Mounted park police

Tree after the Obama family flipped the switch

View of Obama on stage

Harvest

Pickles and a few jars of pickled green beansGreen Beans

Tomatoes

Peaches

Applesauce

Still to do - jelly from berries picked in the spring.

Millenium Quilt 2

FINALLY, I finished the second quilt for my grandson Joshua's birthday. It was about as thrilling to him as getting socks and underwear, but hopefully he will appreciate it one day.

Family Reunion/Vacation With the Boys

Another wonderful family reunion

Lots of good food! Happy family members! More good food! Swimming! Fishing! A little rain. More good food! A get-together at the house to roast weenies and make s’mores.

Pauline, Missy and Judy

Mikey Mike, Pat & Louise

Joshua and Tony in the pool

Mike, Mikey, Pat, Aaron and John

My Uncle Pat and me with our "Murphy's Bar" t-shirts I brought from Ireland.

We plan our vacation around the family reunion so we can bring our grandsons, Tony & Josh, with us for a week. They love being in WV. They remembered the reunion at Audra Park last year and walking the trail around the park. They talked us into doing that on Sunday afternoon after everyone had left. Little did I know! It was hot and humid and little did I know that the trail was miles long. It took over 2 hours to walk it. Along the way, we stopped and took a dip in the river. When we started out again, Joshua ran into a yellow jacket nest and was stung three times; Tony was stung twice and Glenn once. Kinda put a damper on the hike. Some interesting sites along the way:

Doesn't it look like this tree just sat down to take a rest?

The boys had seen a show on tv about the Mothman of Point Pleasant. And I had seen a show on Food network about Hillbilly Hot Dogs in Lesage. So, I told them I’d take them to Point Pleasant to see the statue of the Mothman, but on the way we’d stop at Hillbilly Hotdogs. I didn’t know it was 3 ½ hours away! The boys didn’t know what to expect when we pulled into the hot dog place. Joshua’s words were “this is quite unexpected.”

The outside of Hillbilly Hotdogs.

This is the attached bus that served as the seating area.

On the counter inside was a marker and everyone (and I mean everyone) wrote their name somewhere. Here's where Joshua and Tony wrote theirs (Joshua's is down by his right hand on the wooden bar):
After getting a corn dog and plain weenie, we were off to Point Pleasant. What a lovely little town right on the Ohio River. And everyone was so nice. We saw the Mothman statue and went to the Mothman Museum and the River Museum and walked down by the river. By the river there is a flood wall with murals painted on the river side depicting some battle between Chief Constalk and Gen. Andrew Lewis. There were even statues of them. We even got to see the artist painting a section.

Glenn and I took the boys on a four-hour train ride from Elkins on the New Tygart Flyer. We went to the top of Cheat Mt. Along the way we had a great buffet lunch. At the top of the mountain, the train stopped and everyone got out to look at the falls of cheat. Then we started back down the mountain. For some reason, the generator on the train stopped working and we had no lights or a/c. It got over 80 degrees in the cars. Someone got the bright idea to open the door between the trains to let some air in, but all we got was diesel fumes and the doors were quickly closed. All in all, a very nice trip.
On the last day of our vacation, we went to my niece’s for a crawdad boil. Frank and Vicki did a great job. Even Tony tried them. For those of us who didn’t eat crawdads, Vicki made some great lasagna.

May Flowers

Guess the April showers worked!

Tea Rose
Bell-flowers (not sure of their real name)

To show you how tall the foxglove gets!
Close up of foxglove

Azelia

I Remember, Dad

On this Father's Day, I remember, Dad.


I remember, Dad, every spring you getting all us kids kites and taking us over to Swecker's field to fly them. You always had a box kite.

I remember, Dad, how you would come home from working at the mines with coal dust from head to toe and go to the basement to shower.

I remember, Dad, you carpooled with fellow miners. I remember one particular day when you came home and told Mom that a couple of your fellow miners were killed that day in an accident at work.

I remember, Dad, you and Mom having friends over on Saturday evening to watch the fights or play Rook.

I remember, Dad, your famous fudge--gritty and sometimes hard as a rock, but the best fudge I've ever had.

I remember, Dad, that even after working in the mines five or six days a week, you found the time to build onto our little house, making it big enough for all of us. You build the basement and I remember, Dad, you building the rooms above the basement and onto the front of the house. I don't know how you did it, Dad.


I remember, Dad, you always had a garden every year. You grew rhubarb, but never ate it. When I asked you why, you said because it looked good. One day you were planting something in the garden and I asked what, and you said pickles. Not knowing any different, I asked if they were sweet or dill pickles. I think that was when you chased me out of the garden.


I remember, Dad, you making a peach run to Romney toward the end of the summer. You'd take a pickup truck and come back with it loaded with peaches that you and Mom sold at the store. You also made runs for apples too. Now I made runs to Romney for peaches and apples. They are the best!

I remember, Dad, you taking all of us on Sunday drives and having picnics at a roadside park.

I remember, Dad, you being in the Ruitan Club and one year, when Mom was still alive, I rode on the float, along with the children of other Club members, in a parade in Philippi.

I remember, Dad, you taking us bowling on Sundays afternoons.

I remember, Dad, that you could say the ABCs quicker backward than forward.

I remember, Dad, you going hunting--squirrel, rabbit, deer.

I remember, Dad, your favorite chair. You would never have to ask any of us to move, we KNEW!

I remember, Dad, how you fought to keep us kids together after Mom died. You won, and I believe you did a pretty darn good job for a man in his 40's with four kids at home.

I remember, Dad, the first Christmas without Mom. It was hard on all of us, but you did a great job. You gave me a bonnet-style hair dryer. I still have it and it's in great shape even after all its use.

I remember, Dad, how you helped me learn to cook. I was only 12 or 13 and had to cook for you, Jim and Junior. We never had anything fancy, but you taught me a lot.

I remember, Dad, how you had to take me to emergency room again and again. You grumbled, but you made sure I was okay. I was always climbing (and falling out of) trees, racing bicycles, jumping on horses bareback and getting thrown off.

I remember, Dad, going to Clyde & Maude's after I had the bicycle accident. Maude did a little dance and chant around me. I guess it was for healing, but it scared me.

I remember, Dad, when you married Elma and gave me two more brothers and a sister instantly. I wasn't happy about it at first, but we became one family.

I remember, Dad, one Thanksgiving you were in the hospital. I baked a turkey overnight and got up early and packed the whole dinner in my car and drove it to the hospital so you could have a home-cooked Thanksgiving dinner. When I brought it in, you grunted a little and said you'd wait to see what the hospital was serving. After all that work, you didn't want it!

I remember, Dad, as you got older, your driving ability lessened. I was hearing about accidents you had. One was almost hitting a person who was raking leaves in his own yard! Another time, you hit a utility pole in a parking lot and got a concussion from hitting the windshield. When I came home to visit, I noticed your car didn't have any exterior missors or trim from you side-swiping things. When it became apparent you couldn't drive anymore, the state police revoked your license.

I remember, Dad, me driving from Maryland (5 hours) to WV to pick you up to take you to Ohio (another 5 hours) for Porky's graduation party. We had to make stops along the way so you could get a beer out of the cooler in the back. Needless to say, I was tired by the time we go there. Then, after a couple of hours, you came up and told me that you were ready to go home! Go home?? I just drove over 10 hours! I told you that if you wanted to go home to call Greyhound because this bus wasn't leaving until morning.

I remember, Dad, calling you every week or so and how you stammered through those conversations.


I remember, Dad, the day you died. It was a Thursday. I had just been to WV to see you the previous Sunday. I remember going to the funeral home to make the arrangements. All the kids were there except Junior and he was on his way. When the family was able to see you, your hair was all wrong. I combed your hair the way you wore it and changed the watch you were wearing. Why you needed a watch, I don't know.


I remember, Dad, that your will specified that everything, including the house, was to be sold at auction and the proceeds divided between the 8 kids. Expecting the house and all the furnishings to be sold at auction, I said goodbye to the place. Brother Jim climbed to the top of one of the pine trees Mom had planted and got me some pine cones so I could have a small piece of the place. I left, not returning for the auction or expecting to return. When the house didn't sell at auction, Donna Jo and I came up with a plan to buy it. Somehow we scraped up the money and kept the old place in the family. Now, after almost 17 years, I am the sole owner. Jim and his family lived there for 12 years. After several years of renovations, it's my "home away from home" again. I want it kept in the family and intend to will it to my grandson.


It's hard to believe that almost 17 years have passed since you left us. When I walk through the house, you are there too. I remember when you put the floors down, had the paneling put in and when you built the basement. I think of you when I see that old furnace--still working!

You may be gone, but I remember you, Dad.

I Remember, Mom

On this Mother's Day, I remember, Mom.


I remember, Mom, that 12 years wasn't enough time with you, but I keep the memories of you with me.


I remember, Mom, that you were left-handed, that you always wore a watch, but I never saw you wear a ring. You would never give us kids an answer when we asked about wedding rings.


I remember, Mom, the bruise on your middle finger nail bed from a sewing machine needle.

I remember, Mom, your feet with cracked heels.


I remember, Mom, that you were afraid of snakes and one time when I was mad at you for some reason, I put a rubber snake in your purse. Yeah, you were scared, but not as much as I was for getting caught!

I remember, Mom, that you almost always wore dresses.

I remember, Mom, that you made me dresses out of flour sacks. I wore them and was never embarrassed they were flour sacks.

I remember, Mom, your letting me help you make pancakes. I would stand on a step stool next to the stove and "help" pour the batter.

I remember, Mom, helping you warm bottles for my baby brother.

I remember, Mom, you using a wringer washing machine and hanging clothes on the line to dry. Even though I have a automatic washer, I still like to hang my clothes out to dry.

I remember, Mom, when I cut my arm open on glass and you and Dad had to take me to the emergency room. You had wrapped my arm in a nice, white towel to stop the bleeding. When we got to the hospital, and the doctors/nurses unwrapped it, you passed out. There you were on another gurney next to me. Fourteen stitches in a seven-year old's wrist looked really bad but I got special treatment for a while.


I remember, Mom, how you run "Winans' Grocery" and gave credit to everyone.

I remember, Mom, you at the store taking a little boy in a diaper and setting him on the counter and giving him a Black Cow sucker. I'm sure you gave something to his big sister and brother, too, but I don't remember. The little boy was sticky from head to toe. How could we know, Mom, that years later that little boy (Elwood), his big sister (Diane) and brother (Ray) would become my step-brothers and sister?

I remember, Mom, that you didn't get your drivers license until your mid-30's because you were afraid to ride in a car with a policeman.


I remember, Mom, trips to visit Aunt Ninny in PA. I remember one trip in particular. We had all piled into the car and we had only got just past Philippi on Rt. 119 when we were hit by a dump truck. It was a miracle no one was hurt. But I remember, Mom, that there was a trickle of blood on your arm from a piece of shattered window glass. I remember crying because you were hurt.


I remember, Mom, all us kids climbing on the bed with you and you telling us stories and singing us silly songs.

I remember, Mom, how each of us kids always had a special birthday. We would have cake and ice cream.

I remember, Mom, all the weiner roasts we had.

I remember, Mom, how angry you were when Donna Jo eloped.

I remember, Mom, how you would try to keep my hair cut short. I hated short hair. When I wouldn't let you cut it, you made me keep it in ponytails. One time, you decided to give me a perm. Oh, how embarrassed I was going to school with hair that looked like Bozo--frizzy and sticking straight out, somewhat resembling curls.



I remember, Mom, the day you died. It was a sunny, warm first day of Spring. I was looking forward to coming to the hospital to see you that evening. I was 12 then and was allowed to visit. But when Junior and I got off the school bus, something was off. There were lots of people at the house. No one would look us in the eye. Then Aunt Polly took us in another room and told us you had died.


I remember, Mom, so many people coming to the funeral home to pay their respects. You had so many people who loved you.


I remember, Mom, going back to the house and feeling the void you once filled. The void remains to this day, but I remember you, Mom.