Another of the Greatest Generation has passed into eternity. Sunday morning, at 1:08, my 93 year old grandpa crossed the threshold of death after three weeks in the hospital.

Born December 10, 1922, Grandpa had lived a full life. He grew up on a farm, played basketball in high school (which he enjoyed), served his country during WWII (though never did he see combat), later farmed, fished commercially, and kept bees--in addition to a thousand other things like building his own house from the foundation to the roof (including doing the wiring himself) and mechanicing until he no longer could. He raised four children and his several grandchildren were all honoured and privileged to know him.

Below I have posted some of my favorite photos of him--some from far, far before I was born!

Yesterday, the 27th of July, two-thousand and six, we laid Grandpa to rest.

If you find photos the deceased and funerals morbid, I beg you forgive me. I just think the funeral home did such a beautiful job with him...he looked so peaceful and happy that I could not help smiling back.

For the second time now I was a pall bearer. Once again, for a grandfather.

The other pall bearers were Daddy, Savannah, Katherine, my cousin Danny, second cousin Denny, and Fred and Davy (our farmers). 

I have no true assurance, but I do have hope, that one day I will see my Grandpa again in heaven. The peace I have had throughout this whole time can only have come from God.

I said "Good-night, Grandpa" last Saturday evening before kissing him gently on the forehead. When I got up Sunday morning, I found a note beside the coffee pot written by my mother. I didn't have to read it to know that he was gone. Just it being there told me the story. So now I say, "Good-bye, Grandpa." I'm just glad I had those few minutes with him a few days before he passed when he was awake and clearly aware that his family was around him.

I salute you. 

I did this interview with Grandpa Thanksgiving 2013.

Forget the Battle Hymn of the Republic...first time I remember hearing this song, I watched my Dad try not to cry. He was one of these guys. His paratrooper days are some his proudest (just watch him when he talks about jumping). He almost got killed on his last jump...

HOOAH! Paratroopers are the awesomest dudes--ever. (I'm much to chicken to ever jump out of a perfectly sound airplane.) 

Sorry if the language offends anyone. 

I have been rather neglecting my blog lately...for various reasons. I'm welcoming myself back with a post of potentially gargantuan proportions.

Some of you all may be some what surprised that I have yet to fling myself into the controversy surrounding the Confederate Battle Flag. I know that it's petered out to a great extent, but I have kept thinking on it on and off--as have many others by the various posts and comments I have seen on social media. And last evening, I watched a video (or half of one; I couldn't get through the second half) which set me off again.

The subject of the video: A black woman who proudly carries a Confederate Battle Flag. The commentary given after the interview with this lady was done by a black man who obviously disagrees with her. However, so you better understand, let me kind of give you a brief synopsis of what the lady said.

First off: she was originally from New York--Muslim it sounded like--and "people are so racist it's not even funny". She moved to Virginia and started thinking differently about white people when "people I had never seen before waved at me". I am going to assume, though she did not say so, that she started doing some research because she essentially said that she agrees with the Confederate position--and she did say she believes in very limited government. I suspect that she has Libertarian leanings from something else she said, but that doesn't matter here. But...what the talk host really took issue with was this: "I believe that slavery is a choice".

Whoa. I had never heard anybody say that before...and I had never considered it. But you know, I think that she is right to a degree. However, back to the very indignant black man. "Slavery is a choice". Well...I listened to him for a little bit until he started prating about how this woman could only say the things she did if she were "uneducated"...and then brought up the slave revolts (Nat Turner in particular) and runaways. 

For starters, if you just look at it like that, then his reasons really just gave her more credence. Now, I am unaware of how many slave revolts there actually were--other than Nat Turner's unsuccessful one. What really burned me though was his passing her off as 
"uneducated" simply because she disagreed with his point of view. He was angry, you could see that, even if he was keeping his voice nice and level.

Anyway, I wanted to talk...to get some of the stuff in my mind out...perhaps coherently, perhaps not. 

Then...I saw this this morning in another article that is connected to the murder of the valiant and unarmed service men at the Chattanooga recruiting station: “Don’t listen to the lies of the leaders of our country telling you that Islam is not evil and that it’s just another religion,” he said. “It’s not. Those same leaders who are trying to turn the North versus the South, and whites versus black, are dividing this country greater than we’ve ever seen. ”

The speaker nailed it on the head. I do believe that the government, by making a stink about the Confederate Battle Flag on a monument is doing exactly that. Trying to plunge us into another Civil War (bah!) Tell you what folks, we need to stand steady and not do anything foolish--but, at the same time, we can't just let our rights be torn down, spat upon, and destroyed. As my sister says, ever since Obama was elected the first time, it is as though the nation has just been waiting for the other shoe to drop. I believe the evil people in charge are trying to push us over the edge before they find themselves out of power--just as firmly as I believe that Obama's reelection was achieved only by fraud. 

However, to go back to the Flag...I initially got all fired up after reading Joel McDurmon's article (which I am not going to go take the time to dig up). If you read it, you may remember his three reasons by which he justified his call for South Carolinian to "Tear down that flag!" Slavery really was the primary one. He took the mainstream line on that one. It infuriated me. (Each of his three reasons, the first of which I'm having trouble recalling, could just as equally be applied to the US flag.) I stewed on it for days...I raved to available family members...I think I even cried a little bit in frustration. I was mad.

South Carolina buckled. I guess Savannah is right, it was the only thing they could do without starting another shooting war--which is probably why the media camped on it as they did. (If you have yet to grasp that the mainstream media is just a tool of the liberals [I don't care if either Democrat or Republican...or Libertarian...they all stink alike], it's about time to. Don't trust them--at all.)

Since it seems impossible to talk about the flag that so many godly men served and died under in defense of FREEDOM from governmental tyranny without bringing in the fact that some of the men who fought and died under that flag owned slaves; I want to address slavery as an institution. But real quick, just to put this into prospective, here are the numbers: of the white's in the antebellum South only 1% owned slaves. Amongst the freed blacks 10% owned slaves. Oh, and as someone mentioned someplace, not all slaves were black. Slaves in the South may have been primarily black, but it was not so much "ethnic" as perhaps we have been told--seriously...blacks sold blacks to whites (those slave ships never came into Southern ports by the way; the slave trade was carried out by Northern shipping companies). Whites bought them, tis true, but so did other blacks. 

(And no, I will not use the politically correct "African-American". I think it is insulting to a black person whose family has been here almost as long, if not as long, as my own blood line. If it's not, then I, a white woman, should be insulted because I'm not called a "Scots-Irish/English-American". Foolishness. They are just as much Americans as I, they just have a different pigment!)

Slavery then. As with anything and everything we should not try to justify it by circumstances et al. No, let's go to our Bibles. What does the Bible say about slavery? Does it ever condemn it as morally wrong? 

The first time I ever had that question scamper across my brain, I probably changed channels pretty quick. This is a subject that is vicious and vitriolic. "I won't think about that yet..."

Well, as I have become more and more confident in my Confederate-ness and more and more nailed to my gray heritage (to the extent that I barely ever introduce myself to anyone without pointing out the fact that I am a Southerner), I have naturally had to look at the subject. I have yet to sit down and do a comprehensive study on slavery, but I cannot say that I see, from Scripture, that slavery in and of itself is a moral wrong. I'm not trying to justify the fact that many of my Confederate heroes owned slaves--or even that my very own great-great-great grandfather owned eight. (Though, I confess, I have more moral issues with the fact that he fathered a child with one of them, Rachel Davis. However, even the outcome of that demonstrates that blacks and whites were "family" as H.K. Edgerton says--for, as far as we can determine, my great-great Uncle Lloyd was as much the son of John as his other, fully white, sons. I actually think Lloyd, being the youngest, was the one that took care of his aging father. That is speculation, but founded on actual reasons which I won't go into here.)

So, is slavery a moral wrong? I do not think so:

• God sets forth standard for slavery in the Law. Even what would be called "ethnic" slavery--those from other nations. A Hebrew had a seven year work cycle--after which they were either a) set at liberty or b) could become, of their own volition, permanent slaves. Slaves taken from other nations were permanent unless they a) were set free or b) bought their freedom. That part isn't mentioned in Scripture, but I imagine that it is a logical deduction.
• If slavery, as an institution, were morally wrong, God would have told us so. Take for instance: "Bondservants, be obedient to those who are your masters according to the flesh, with fear and trembling, in sincerity of heart, as to Christ; not with eyeservice, as men-pleasers, but as bondservants of Christ, doing the will of God from the heart, with goodwill doing service, as to the Lord, and not to men, knowing that whatever good anyone does, he will receive the same from the Lord, whether he is a slave or free. And you, masters, do the same things to them, giving up threatening, knowing that your own Master also is in heaven, and there is no partiality with Him." (Eph. 6:5-9) 
  Notice that Paul does not tell the masters to free their slaves. And don't tell me that "bondservants" doesn't mean "slaves"--this was the Roman world. 
• Nowhere, at least that I have seen, does God condemn slavery in and of itself as a moral wrong. 

Now, I do not think that slavery is normative, nor do I want to appear to be advocating a return to enslaving other men in our nation--not the way one initially thinks when they hear "slavery". I believe that many, many persons, both black and white (and a variety of other "races") are already slaves in this country. Slaves to Big Government.  I feel myself to be so to a degree as well. (Seriously. Inheritance Tax? Land Tax? Income Tax? Those are morally wrong! The State declaring that it owns you.) So with that being said, let us take a quick look at antebellum Southern slavery.

Was there abuse? Absolutely YES.

Are pictures like this one "doctored"?

No. I don't think so. There was cruelty. However, I seriously doubt that most masters would have treated their slaves in such a fashion. Evil men are evil and will commit evil acts regardless of whether they are slave owners or not. 

This photo also brings up a question I hadn't considered before, until listening to H.K. Edgerton speaking. What did this man do that warranted that?

Mr. Edgerton points out that "we are told about these [punishments], but we aren't told that that black man had just burned down a barn with ten other black men inside it!"  (I will post the video this came out of down at the end.) [Not that I am claiming that to  be the case with the man in the photograph...I know nothing about him or his situtation.]

In general, punishments were a little more harsh back in previous centuries anyway--no matter what your colour. Just thought I would tack that on for consideration. Public whipping wasn't unheard of for a white man either.

Did slaves have to work long, hard hours out of doors in the sun? Yes. But no more (and perhaps less) than poor white farmers who could neither afford to buy slaves (who were quite expensive) or maybe even hire temporary help. 

Could slaves own anything of their own? Yes. In fact, I've seen where slaves had enough gold stored up to have purchased their freedom and THEY DID NOT. (So maybe that lady we started the post with has a valid point...)

Was their mutual respect between white and black? I believe, for the most part, there was. Take for instance, the following story which I read in JEB Stuart: The Last Cavalier (B. Davis): The Yankee's had come through and in their ransacking of a plantation, they stole the old house slave's gold watch. Well, some of Stuart's men came through and heard the story. They caught up with the thieves and apprehended them. Capt. Blackford (the man in charge) demanded the gold watch and returned it to it's rightful owner--a black man. A slave. 

Could a black man be educated? That one varied from state to state--and doubtless, some masters violated rules and taught their slaves to read and write and do arithmetic. One thing I do know is that a large portion of slave owners saw to the religious education of their slaves. Ever wondered why there are so many old black spirituals?

Was there justice for black men--free and slave? More or less. I confess I need to do a whole lot more study on this particular question, but I suspect that law and order applied to them in much the same way as it did to whites. (Going back to the video I mentioned at the beginning, one of the claims the host made was that the "police forces" were really more "slave control". I honestly doubt that. White people are just as prone to thieving and murdering and arson as persons of different colours.)

Was there discrimination? Yes. Of course. There was also discrimination against Indians, against white people of different nationalities...and it wasn't universal and it was as much in the North as it was in the South. Northern factory workers hated blacks because the blacks would work for less than the whites. There is STILL discrimination amongst whites against other whites and blacks against other groups of blacks and so forth. Discrimination is a sin problem, not a colour problem. 

So yes. There was slavery in the South. Slavery that probably, quite frequently, fell below the standards of biblical slavery. And no, I do not try to justify where it failed...but neither do I discredit the righteousness of the cause of liberty for which brave patriots--some of them black men who loved freedom from governmental tyranny and justice just as much as their white brothers-- fought and fell for beneath this flag.  

Give me my flag, Tyrants! (And that goes for you, you modern KKK scalawags who have used it for tyranny!!)

May God preserve the Memory of the Faithful Men who Fought for Liberty beneath the Cross of Saint Andrews--Black, White, and Indian. 

As promised, the inestimable H.K. Edgerton! I want to meet him...a lot.

If you have ever watched Columbo (an old TV detective show), you may be hearing Peter Fualk's distinctive, "Just one more thing..." However, that is not the philosophy behind "one thing", regardless of how amusing the apparently bumbly Columbo can be.

My mother coined our "one thing" in order to help her household of Lymies to be a little more productive. I, at any rate, seem to have difficulty completing anything. I frequently cannot place my finger on anything at the end of the day that I can say was really productive--or I simply cannot remember what I did. This is where the "one thing" comes in.

At the beginning of the day (or the night before as the case may be), we set ourselves one task to complete. Once we complete that--we set ourselves our next "one thing". 

Yesterday, I moved a small whiteboard off the refrigerator and stuck in on the air duct running up the wall next to my desk. (Yes, there is a metal air duct running through the dining room and into my room that is not covered by dry wall.) I find that lists are helpful...and that I tend to bury the ones I write on paper. So I thought the whiteboard would be useful. 

I scribbled my "one thing" (which was actually very related conglomeration of three things) up on the board, plus an all caps reminder of something very important. I can see this board from my seat at the dinner table. 

And you know what? I got my "one thing" done!

Now...about that then. :) 

Forgive me if you find this a bit morbid, but I spent the day working on the recording of my Granddaddy's funeral.

I took the following two pictures with the still camera in my HMC40 before the funeral started and before I turned the video recording on.

They closed the casket (and slipped the casket spray in next to his hands) before the funeral actually started. 

I do not know how long funerals usually run, but Granddaddy's was close to an hour (give or take some). We sang twice, one of the songs two of my cousins and I played our guitars. It would have made him so proud. :) The pastor read the obituary (which I think Aunt Laurie wrote?) and gave a short sermonette. Three of the granddaughters eulogized. Savannah's eulogy was pre-recorded. (Later on, Tommy and Ricky told me that they could tell how much better she was doing just from that short little recording.)

At the very end, my aunt and one of my cousins played echo Taps. And if you want to know when I really, really wanted my hankie and didn't have it...it was this:

Well, anyway...what I did was adjust volumes (i.e. turn the singing/music down and turn up the speakers) and inserted the video of Savannah's eulogy since you can't see the totality of the church media screens as well as the photo of Granddaddy that we had on the wall for his final farewell, singing "It is Finished".

Then, I went in and reassembled the slideshow (thank-you, Katherine for taking the time out of your day to turn all those slides into JPG's for me! [I don't have PowerPoint on either of my machines.]) It only ended up with five of the songs out of...ten? because the slideshow was shorter than the music playlist and so that looped as the music played during the viewing. Anyway, I put the whole of it on a DVD...the funeral and the slideshow. For folks who want the full music playlist and/or the slideshow, something else will have to be worked out (like a USB drive or a data disk). I would, in the future like to put at least some of his songs up on YouTube, but I have another project (or two) to finish before I seriously think about that.

However, to give you a taste of the slideshow, here are some of my favorite pictures from it (clicking on the photos makes them larger so you can see them better; along with the captions):

There. I have tackled my first "one thing" of the day. My next "one thing" is another one of those multi-faceted ones...Cow Cavalry related! 

Blessings on your day!

Mmm...yeah? So? 

Well...that means lots of work! Lots of good, hot, dirty, sweaty work! 

I sound excited, don't I? 

To  be honest, I really do like working out of doors, hard and steady. I think I've done pretty good at that so far this week, even though the temperatures have sneaked up into the low 90's and the humidity has peeked a little (though still not humid like Florida). 

Monday morning I helped Mum do some weeding in the garden. Or rather "scuffle hoeing". The goal was to get all the crab grass out before the expected rain later this week. She has been working on that steady for the last couple of days...I have really only helped with that Monday when I did two rows (I did much more than that on Saturday however! Sunday my left wrist was rather painful.)

Monday afternoon I spent bouncing around on the lawn mower. I really can't make that sound overly exciting. I didn't even "almost take my head off on a tree branch", so I cannot regale you with that tale!

Once I got done mowing, I raked up the grass and rebuilt the compost pile I had created last Saturday. I remembered to cover it with a tarp this time. That keeps the heat in and the rain out and causes the stuff to rot down faster.

Tuesday morning (I guess that was yesterday), well...I'm drawing a blank on what I did in the morning....but I do remember being outside. I spent the afternoon indoors, playing my guitar for a good portion of it. I was pleased to find out that I could manage to play with the brace on my left wrist.

Today...that was spent mainly behind the string trimmer. First I did the rhubarb patch, then sprawled on to the rest of the places that needed doing. Late this afternoon I flipped my compost pile...

But anyway...have some pictures from my week:

In case you want to actually see me in real motion...here's a compost flippin' video for ya. ;P 

Today also just happens to by my aunt's birthday--we had a special sort of supper (Gulf shrimp!) and Katherine whipped up a "double batch of brownies" to make a cake:

Happy Birthday, Aunt Terry!!

Hi, Y'all!! 

If you don't mind continuing with yesterday's theme/story for another day...I have here a little documentary put together by a fellow filmmaker friend of mine, William A Moore.

It is called "Operation Deadstick" and it about the British 6th Airborne Division's part in the D-Day invasion. 

Anyway, without any further ado--Operation Deadstick!

(It was rather interesting as we watched "The Longest Day" Thursday evening--we got to the part that William tells about in his documentary and I got excited because "William's releasing his documentary on this tomorrow!" :D)

I've been busy today...dishes/kitchen, bathrooms, laundry...stuff of that order. (Somehow, when I spell it out, it never seems to be all that much.)

But...it's been one of "those" days. It was not the busyness of the day, though I certainly kept busy enough, nor really the low pressue system continues to bestow a new layer of snow on the ground. And I can't even say that Granddaddy was really that much of a problem, even though I just about let my steam boil over at him. I can't quite understand why he won't tell people when he has to go to the bathroom...I supose it is kind of embarrassing to have to ask your granddaughters to help you, but sometimes it seems more like he just expects you to read his mind. (I have gotten to the point where I do not do anything for him unless he asks...he needs to be doing something, so instead of jumping every time he makes those noises that mean "pay attention to me", I just pretend like I don't notice. It's not just preversity of nature either--there is a practical side to the process.)

Events have conspired to prompt another household shift (not the least being the old man has started getting out of bed and urinating on the floor at night). Daddy brought in a hospital bed (it has rails) that got acquired sometime in the past two years and got that set up in the TV room (where Granddaddy spends most of his time anyway). Mama and Daddy will be moving back into their bedroom--freeing up the living room for a guest set to arrive in three weeks (it may actually be a little less than that).

Anyway, the upheaval and the stress of life tackled me today and I ended having a good cry in the middle of the afternoon. I don't know why this particular situation has me so stressed--I have always been the kind of person that usually bounces back pretty easily, but this whole rigamarole has had me very upset multiple times. I feel often enough that I'd like to just go crawl into a hole and stay there until the storm is over. Providentially, I don't have that hole. You think maybe God is trying to teach me both patience and perseverance?

I told Mama this afternoon that I've been missing my horse...partly because I would just love to go ride and get away from everything. I am not going outside hardly at all (unless I have to) because it's so cold--and I'm a Florida girl now. (Weird how one puts down roots...more due, I really think to my Cow Cavalry research than any thing.) I look forward to spring when I can get outside and play in the dirt. I love such work.

After bawling for a little bit (I'm grateful the Lord gave us tears to ease our emotions at times), Savannah, Katherine, and I played a little music. We're all three rusty, but I'm probably the most 'in-shape' at the moment since I have played several times this past week. Anyway, that was a lot of fun and I no longer feel blue or like I would enjoy yelling at my grandfather for being a old, selfish, inconsiderate curmudgeon. (That is said without anger--it's simply calling a spade, a spade.)

Ah well, life goes on...and I bid ye farewell with a smile!

P.S. I took time over my lunch coffee to watch this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G_7380lKDhA

I haven't anything to complain about compared to the Scottish Covenanters.

An old friend my mine from a long time back just completed his second short film!! It's a hilarious little Western. What makes it especially fun is I know (or knew) everyone but two of the actors!

Enjoy!

That pretty much sums up my day. Oh, and of course, dishes. :)

I got going at a bit more normal time that I did yesterday morning. (I went to bed early Sunday evening and got up late next morning!) However, it was still almost ten by the time I got around to breakfast because I had some unexpected chicken emergencies to deal with. First off, while actually on my way to the pens to feed the heifers, I noticed a dead rooster. (Third one in two days...they sure enjoy killing each other off!)

I jumped out of the golf cart, entered the coop and was fixing to exit when I noticed another rooster hunkered down--with a bloody back. "You'll be next," I said. Then I scooped him up and tucked him under my arm. I was surprised with how little fight he put up. I hauled the dead rooster to the burn hole and went into the house, where I hollered at Savannah to come help me. I decided that I would go ahead and move the two hens from the 'hospital' back in with the other hens--along with the one Rhode Island Red in with the roosters--and put the rooster in the hospital after we doctored him. Well...the hens attacked the black and white one so severely that I almost immediately removed her again. So, she and the rooster are sharing the kennel now.

I went and fed the heifers. On my way back, I noticed the little hen (the one they had almost killed previously) was already bleeding again. I almost got mad. I charged into the coop (if one can be said to 'charge' into that thing seeing how it's built) and grabbed her up. "You're not going to kill her after I saved her life!" Once again, I went into the house and hollered for Savannah. She came and we put some 'goop' (sulfer based stuff) on the little henny's head. Since there isn't enough room in the kennel for three birds, we placed a laundry basket over her. She's tame enough that I can grab her pretty easy so she's the best one to tuck under a laundry basket--besides the fact that she's the smallest. Still, I need to rig up something better.

I came in, changed my shirt--since it had enough sulfer stuff on it to make me reek all day, ate breakfast, and washed the dishes. Then I went for a ride. The left stirrup is a bigger problem than the left one--and I believe Savannah figured out the problem. It is actually too high, so it's twisting my foot around. I have gotten cramps in my arch and up the back of my leg both times I've ridden in my new saddle. The right one fits better since that leg is shorter by a little bit.

After lunch and dishes and a few minutes of TV while finishing my coffee, I played my cello for nigh on an hour and then my guitar for about 45 minutes. From there I got the hair brained idea to go test the lawn mower again.

I went out, aired up the back tire that insists on going flat quickly, hopped on, turned the fuel line on, and cranked it up. It took a tiny bit of messing with the throttle to get it to come all the way to life, but I got it. I backed out, engaged the blades, and took off. It didn't die on my today! I have no idea really why it died yesterday, but I'm just glad that it worked. I mowed the driveway first then moved into the yard. I didn't do behind the barn very well because there was too much stuff out and about that I need to pick up before next time. I got horrendeously gritty. (*big grin*) To such a degree in fact that I looked rather like I had a 5 o'clock shadow! Or at least a mustache...

Anyway, it is satisfying when stuff works for you. (Oh, and I did remember to shut the fuel line off this time!)