Do You Know Someone Who is “Red”?
No, not the color, but a man who soon earned the nickname Red because of his coloration, his Irish heritage, and childhood friends who sometimes called him “Patty,” (which he hated). So he went with “Red.”
Last year when my husband and I wanted to celebrate Stuart’s brother’s 75th birthday, we wanted to try and surprise Nolan. Red was a longtime and treasured friend of Nolan’s. Red jumped on board as soon as he heard about the party, and helped us with the details in various ways, and it was so much appreciated.
Planning and pulling off a surprise party for an older brother with 45 or so attendees was no easy task for my husband and me—we’re no spring chickens. Red helped bringing food, setting things out, and honored Nolan with fun stories and words, which everyone present enjoyed.
That was Red. Unfortunately, he died recently, after a stroke several years ago and being on dialysis three days a week. But his great attitude and fun ways can be a model for the rest of us. During covid years, my husband got to know him much better at an exercise pool which we chose to go to when our other pool closed down. I didn’t know him well, but knew he was always giving, laughing, joking and very helpful and kind.
His only daughter, Erin, gave one of the most uplifting, funny and sweet eulogies I think I’ve ever heard, helping us laugh, cry, and remember. She started by warning us her speech was about 1000 pages long, which of course was an exaggeration.
One of the things I remember was how she said her Dad had developed the custom after every large meal (like Thanksgiving, Christmas, and so on) to end the meal with blowing out a big long breath which was to help you settle all that food in your tummy. Who does that after a family meal? Red. Perhaps you’ll want to join in and try it like most of us listening to the eulogy did. A Red moment for sure.
She recalled how her dad would “sometimes call, tell a joke, and then just hang up.” He would also call and tell his daughter or granddaughters to look out and see the spectacular sunrise, or sunset.
But here is the most interesting story I found on the tributes left on Johnson’s obituary pages. This gladdened my heart, because we never knew what the situation was in Red’s family.
“Even though I am Red’s ex-wife, he became my best friend and supporter. He never held a grudge and invited me to join him along with our daughter and grandchildren to the beach, as well as other activities. Since then, we have shared many memories and supported each other in doctor appointments and just life. He will be greatly missed as a missing part of our family. He touched so many and will always be special in my heart.” – Cathy
This did my heart good too, because we never knew what the situation was in Red’s family.
And maybe this can speak to the rest of us: of the need to be kind, loving, and helpful.
In Loving Memory
Patrick “Red” Dennis Haile
August 17, 1954 – February 13, 2026
——————————–
Parts of Red’s obituary:
Red was born in Shamokin, PA, August 17, 1954, and attended Our Lady of Lourdes Regional High School, class of 1972, before continuing his education at Bloomsburg State College, where he earned a B.S. Degree in Business Administration and Accounting.
Red moved to the Shenandoah Valley in 1977 and worked for Kawneer and Banta before transitioning to Rockingham Cooperative, where he worked for 30+ years, retiring as Controller in the spring of 2020. He served as a member of the Turner Ashby High School Booster Club from 1997-2006, spending eight of those years as a board member. For his many years of service, he was inducted into the TAHS Athletic Hall of Fame in 2013, joining his daughter, who was inducted in 2012 for her many track and gymnastics accomplishments. To date, Red and Erin are the only father-daughter duo to be inducted into the TAHS Athletic Hall of Fame. While supporting his daughter from the track, Red began officiating local Valley District Track and Field meets, and continued to do so until he hung up his stopwatch after 27 years of service.
He held a particularly special place in his heart for the Unified Basketball and Challenger Baseball programs across the county. He believed deeply in the power of athletics to bring people together and celebrated those athletes with unmatched enthusiasm and pride. He showed spirit, loyalty and love to each athlete and he made lasting impacts that will continue to echo throughout the hallways of TAHS and around the community.
Red truly lived for his family. He took pride in every moment spent with his two beautiful granddaughters, Reagan and Avery, who affectionately called him “Big Daddy”. They were the light of his life. He cherished his many fishing trips with his brothers, looked forward to his annual beach trips with the family, and he loved listening to bluegrass and spending time in the mountains. Red truly never knew a stranger and was a light to all that knew him.
***
I welcome your own comments, memories, people or situations you have learned from
A Snow-flaky Quiet Sunday Morning at Home
I can’t say I mind the solitude of a quiet Sunday morning at home.
Even though a breaker (for our pump) went bad on our cabinet of electrical things in the garage, (the inside that I don’t think I’ve ever seen since it was put in over 18 years ago).
The quietness is comfort, even though details and dangers lurk when such things go on!
I brew a half cup of hot chocolate, my frequent companion. When I can’t sleep at night, I get up, read awhile, drink a half cup of hot chocolate (with very little actual chocolate in it, because hey, I do want to sleep when I can).
I don’t even have to wash dishes, because of the bad breaker. But gratefully, my dear hubby was able to go to town to get a breaker Sunday morning and fix it for us.
——
I go back over our day yesterday, a Saturday which was quite hectic, celebrating a 3-year-old’s birthday at a place called “Hyper Kids,” made for such parties. It was noise from the start, wild fun games like throwing balls at a wall, bubbles on a dance floor, and of course, pizza for lunch (and two lovely trays of veggies and fruits, thank goodness). Women with babies on the way were following their children around, mostly enjoying the madness. I think it should have been called something other than the hyper word. That’s JUST ASKING FOR IT, FOR PETE’S SAKE! Ha.
But it was fun and a place to connect with at least two of my daughters, a few glimpses of three grandsons, who were all over the hyper place, who took off a brief 5 seconds to give hugs to grandma and grandpa. (I did get to see them at lunch!)
My highlight of that party besides celebrating with our three-year-old granddaughter? Helping my 5-month-old granddaughter stand a bit, coming up soon on 6 months, (me keeping her safe with my handholds of course) and helping her “dance” as we moved back and forth and I sat on the floor. It couldn’t have been much better. 😊
——-
Sunday morning I did get to watch most of our church’s service online and counted who was there at church, where I should have been. (I can wear my robe and jammies while I watch, which is ok now and then. At least in my book it is.)
In the Good Book (Bible) that I’m now working to read a chapter of every day, I’m anxious to get past all the plagues in Egypt: the blood, frogs, gnats, flies, livestock dying, boils, hail, locusts, darkness, and finally the “firstborn sons of each family dying,” and Pharoah reneging 10 times on his promises to let the Israelites leave.
Ten bad things. Ten catastrophes, the worst of course losing sons in each family. Woe and wailing all over the land.
……..
Here, all is well with my soul. God is with us.
Hope you are doing well too!
Jealousy and Wisdom
Were you a younger brother or sister who was frequently jealous—chided by older brothers and sisters about their activities, what they knew or didn’t know, and about how smart they were?
Back in January, I shared how I had decided to read at least a chapter a day from the Bible. I say this not to brag but to maybe inspire others to get back to this amazing book, or even how startling the Bible is.
I was nearly finishing the book of Genesis (what an astonishing book in terms of the persons, mostly men, I’m guessing), who wrote it and at what time etc., and the precious true history it contains. How human these people were who lived in that time! And sometimes—who were a lot like us.
I won’t review here the various trips Joseph’s brothers made to Egypt to seek food when famine was gripping the land. Potiphar (one of Pharaoh’s officials) had bought Joseph from the Ishmaelites (remember how his brothers were jealous of Joseph’s coat and bragging) which ultimately ended up being a gold find for Joseph. Eventually he become a leader in Egypt, partially in interpreting dreams, and guessing (maybe?) what was ahead and knowledge about how to help. (Read Genesis chapters 41-45. It’s interesting!) You can skip the chapters about how Potiphar’s wife flirted endlessly (and uselessly) with handsome Joseph until the woman got fed up with Joseph NOT flirting and he ended up being jailed for a couple years. And then she lies and tells her husband that Joseph tried to sleep with her, which of course wasn’t true. (So very like so many things going on in the world today!)
Then comes a famine and Joseph again is very helpful for Pharoah and indeed in helping Egypt survive seven years of famine.
What made me smile about these chapters was when Pharaoh told Joseph to “bring your father and your families back to me. I will give you the best of the land of Egypt and you can enjoy ‘the fat of the land.’” Joseph, who was no longer the “little” brother who was always bragging about his dreams, probably took advantage of the situation a bit when reminding his brothers not to “quarrel on the way home.” He may have added a winking smile. That’s my guess.
At any rate, the stories in Genesis are rich. And worth re-reading if it has been a while. Maybe Joesph has a message and reminder for us in the 21st century!
***
One more thing. I’ve always thought it pretty cool that I grew up near Goshen, Indiana, and fascinated that the writers of the Bible mentioned “Goshen” or the Land of Goshen frequently. We went to a church named “North Goshen” (there was also East Goshen, and I don’t know how many other churches might have had the name.)
Since it is mentioned quite frequently, I decided to look up how many towns are named Goshen in the U.S.
Hmm. Not that many. Here’s my list, for what it is worth. I was also intrigued by which states were “downhome” enough to use the town name of “Goshen” in their states. Just 11.
Cities or towns named Goshen are in: Arkansas, California, Connecticut, Kentucky, Indiana, New Jersey, New York, Ohio, Utah, Wyoming, and finally Virginia, where the town Goshen has 338 people. More or less.
(I was a little surprised to find to find out how few “Goshen” towns there are!)
For what its worth. ….
***
How about you? You may not want to reveal what town or area you live in but towns/cities are important to us and our journeys, or homes, or for those who must move repeatedly – some who enjoy the newness and others who would rather stay put!
Right now, I’m enjoying the splendor of sunlight almost every day and beautiful mountains not very far away (45 minute drive?). And if you want gorgeous photos, check out Bruce Stambaugh’s blog, Roadkill Crossing – Writing generated from the rural life and great photography, and learning about birds you didn’t know.
What’s wrong with today’s canned frostings
We celebrated my birthday back in December—went out to a restaurant known for it’s pork (or fish, if you wish)—and while waiting for our seats, my sister-in-law and I gaped at the desserts in the glass shelves of the front desk. Mouthwatering!
So we did finish off our great dinner and while I usually say no to desserts at restaurants (having already stuffed myself), for my birthday—where I didn’t have a cake—I pushed us for a splurge, which we all ended up sharing a nice big piece of Carrot Cake.
Then my sister-in-law and I both marveled at how much better the cake’s frosting was than what you get in the plastic jars of various frostings that are so easy to pick up and use from any grocery store. The brands don’t matter. Those frostings all—while sweet—don’t quite come up to snuff for either of us.
So, I dug up a recipe from a great cook, who is now a “cheese wiz” with her own YouTube blog (she needs to make a cookbook, but all the recipes are there on her website for anyone to use and try and experiment with.
Which you can try too!
Here’s the frosting part:
8 ounces cream cheese
2 tablespoons butter
3 ½ powdered/confectioners’ sugar
1 tsp vanilla
Mix items together. Enjoy! Your cake and frosting too.
For the carrot cake recipe, and literally hundreds more recipes, I welcome you to visit Jennifer’s website at jennifermurch.com. Recently she wrote about “The Best Chocolate Cake of My Life,” and pretty much swears by it. I haven’t tried it yet, my tummy sometimes rebels on too much chocolate.
She also happens to be a nearby neighbor who says “sure” whenever we want to bring our grandsons and granddaughters to see pigs, cows, chickens, and horses (horses are in a nearby field). There are also nearby camels, on a different road!
P.S. Several of our grandsons are already connoisseurs of cooking–and planning boy scout meals. Some have coached me into making interesting salads with pretty decorations, and cookies decorated with a sweet slurry of frosting, and other delicacies, but now I’ve learned how to make a better frosting, which you see, above.
Round 2
I once wrote a poem about The Cat, and in that case, it was just about cats universal. It got published in WITH, our denomination’s church youth magazine at the time. I was paid, and elated. In some ways that inspired me to keep writing.
Today, I’m writing about our cat. Her name is Pumpkin. I’m getting used to her. I would say in the years when our daughters were all excited and in love, so to speak, about cats, I was mainly the cat mother and dealing with too many cats, because they kept having babies. One cat in particular birthed babies that were almost like Siamese kittens—dark colors on the face, ears, feet and tail. This was due to crossbreeding I guess but they were easy to give away, because they were so cute. We tried to keep no more than 5 cats or kittens at our house for our 3 daughters. Needless to say, when a cat was having babies, the children not only learned a lot about babies, but had a lot of fun. Me? Not so much.
Back to Pumpkin. My husband has been a big cat fan all his life and always had a cat at his home.
When he bought his own trailer to live in, he kept a cat there who LOVED him but hissed horrifically at me if I entered (when we were dating). When we got married and in a year had found our own house in the country which was just a nice size for a small family, he had a cat we called Tigger. He was tame and friendly. Again, I tolerated her just fine, petted her, fed her, whatever.
There was also a large cat named Ceasar, part Himalayan, who Stuart’s brother suggested that Stuart bring Ceasar to our house for Tanya, our middle daughter. Stuart brought him home but somehow she was not able to make friends with Ceasar. He insisted on sitting on Stuart’s lap instead. And lived many years loving Stuart most of all, and tolerating the rest of us.
I’m not sure of the exact number of cats we had over the years (the records below imply 38, most of whom we gave away to friends or neighbors looking for a cat (we actually published little notices in the newspaper about free cats!)
About 5 years ago, a neighbor I was acquainted with mentioned that two of her daughters were needing to find a home for Pumpkin because they were investing in a house for themselves too. Pumpkin had always loved going outside, but eventually was attacked by two dogs. They took her to an emergency vet hospital 20 some miles away, and after that decided that expenses keeping dogs, cats and other farm animals needed to be lowered. My daughter in Ohio noticed an alert online asking for a home for Pumpkin so together we decided we would try this cat out. She had been healed, but the sisters were looking for a new home for her.
The cat hid from us in the basement for about two days, then slowly began to adapt to her new home. She was not very tame for us at first, but my husband kept working on her, luring her to his good graces. Again, I tolerated my role of feeding, watering and petting her occasionally.
At first she didn’t try to go out, but slowly decided that she would try the outdoors again. She still is hesitant, and probably wise about where she goes. She hunts for insects, critters and birdies, sorry to say, and makes a meal out of them if she has a chance. That is what cats do, I guess, much to my chagrin.
And now, she basically rules the house. She loves to be petted, but she also demands her breakfast, lunch and dinner and snacks in between. She owns the chair in our bedroom with two blankets on it, where she licks herself and basically sleeps for the night, occasionally hiding under the bed if that suits her fancy more.
I now buy her a relatively expensive brand of catfood that seems to keep those allergic to cats from being bothered with her furr or fuzz.
Did I add she runs the house??
The dog barks loud and long when she sees or hears Pumpkin at one door or another and insists that we let Pumpkin in. Which of course we do. Our dog Velvet is her master, her cohort in the house. Velvet is all business—when she’s not barking for food or attention or crumbs.
They both run the house. And here I am writing about a cat. Again. Only this time I’m not being paid for any “poetry.”
I must share, for posterity, my daughter’s “Davis Cat Genealogy” from 1977-1997 as told by Michelle Davis Jan. 3, 1997. So if you need to find a name for your cat, here are some lovely options, courtesy of our three daughters who named them.
Feel free to share the name if you’re in need of good ones!
Tigger – male
Bibbs – male
Sunshine – male
Puff – male
Shelly – female – which began the Shelly Dynasty (for many years)
Shelly begat: Darkhorse, male; Boots, female; Butterball, male; Squirrel, female.
Then came: Muffin, female; Sad Sack, female; Blackie, female; Wonder (no one remembers her gender); Perfect, male; Inky, male; Autumn, male; Sicky, male; Torty, male; Bossy, female; Comet, male; Cleopatra, female; Space Bars (a.k.a. Tigger !!); Midnight, male; Bubbles, female; Sage, female; Paprika, female; Brainy, female; Sniffles, female; Reebok, male; Nike, female; Kodak, male; Lucky, (a.k.a. Rose who went to live at a friends house who now raises horses!); Tie-Dye, female; Larry, male; Curly, female; Moe, female.
Attention: most of these kittens did not stay at our house but were adopted, killed on the road, or loved for many years.
Anyway. Who runs your house? Cat? Dog? Husband? Wife? Yourself?
And a few more photos my pets urged me to put in.
I hate that word. It is usually not in my lifestyle or vocabulary.
BUT.
Today I think I would rather be in Haines Alaska where it is 35 degrees out, instead of the 1 or 2 here. I’ve been to Haines and I loved it because it was August and we were still wearing warm jackets, if needed.
And I’m tired of freezing! And worrying about slipping on the ice. And NOT WANTING TO STAY HOME!
Ok, I’m a baby.
How are you doing?
I’m tired of checking the fire every two or three hours, adding wood. My husband also adds wood, and we have plenty, but.
BUT!
I’m grateful. God gave me parents, siblings, friends, cousins, and a husband who … doesn’t seem to tire of cutting down wood, especially since so many people nearby have so many downed trees and we cut and pick it up. Free. Just a bit of exercise and work. I tell people we have wood that goes around our house but that’s an exaggeration. I need to be GRATEFUL.
And I am!
I’m just tired of being chilly and bored and ungrateful.
I want to go out and go for a walk, or go to a Lions Club meeting (so I don’t have to make supper), or run to town for some yeast so I could at least bake some bread on these wintry days.
I was born in Florida. Maybe we should move back there … but husband always remembers how COLD he was in north Florida when we visited Mom and Dad (before we got married) and he overnighted in the travel trailer they had … and he was sOOOOO cold. Yes it was that cold. My phone tells me that it is 26 degrees there right now, and by Sunday they will have a sunny 19 degrees, instead. Shall we move? Nahhhh.
So here is my bored and boring gratefulness for all that we have and the love we have and share with each other, friends, family, and bored people.
Have a great day anyway.
Thank you, God.
A Return to the Bible: How Long Has It Been?
At the beginning of January, many people make new promises to themselves to do better. I must confess that my Bible reading had fallen by the wayside. How long had it been since I read through the complete Bible, and what was I missing?
I don’t know if I can get through it all this year but I am trying to read a chapter each day. If one counts the total number of chapters in the Bible (some very short, some quite long), that makes a total of 1189 chapters so if I read one a day, it will take me somewhat more than three years to complete, which is doable. If I read several short short chapters a day, it might take less than three years. The shortest chapter in the Bible of course is Psalm 117, only two verses long. Obidiah, has only 21 verses. And I could cite more.
In one very small way, I am not too embarrassed to admit my hiatus in regular Bible reading the last number of years (I do not know and don’t really want to tell you how long it has been). I have read the Bible, yes, when I’m down or in the mood or dealing with grief or illness of friends or family. And there have been assignments or projects, particularly when I’ve read devotionals (Rejoice! Magazine, which I also write for), and study diligently when I have an assignment.
But since I’ve sat down and read a chapter a day since the beginning of January, I am enjoying it far more than I ever remembered. Genesis has stirred me and reminded me that even though I know there are more wars and rumors of war in the Bible than I will want to go through, and more begats etc. than I will want to read, the Bible is an amazing collection of history, of rights and wrongs, stories that have been buried in my long long ago memory.
I never went to seminary (but thought about it awhile), but I must give one of my high school teachers the birth of my true following of the Bible. His name was Darrel Hostetler and I just learned that he died in January of 2024—somehow I missed that news. His wife, Marian, is still living. They went to the same church I did for 17 years until we moved away. But he also was a robust musician, and loved leading music at Bethany Christian High School in Goshen Ind. I was intrigued by his obituary stating that “in his later years, Darrel worked as a CNA (Certified Nursing Assistant), drove taxi and medical transportation.” The Hostetlers lost one child which was devastating to me and my high school junior classmates, most of whom attended the service for little Alan.
But Darrel’s class my junior year studying the book of Genesis and later the book of Mark have stayed with me through these many years. I still have notes and tests that help me remember what I learned. Darrel spoke to those of us who were juniors about our futures—and how important it was to make wise choices for our mates, and how to deal with relationships.
I’m moved how a teacher’s love and studying in a Christian high school—how important that was to my life in the future. I’m so thankful that Mom and Dad paid for those years (a pittance in today’s dollars) but more than that, the love and dedication and beliefs they shared were so meaningful for my life. Now and in the future. Thank you God and thank you Mom and Dad!
Now, back to reading Genesis! And many more books of the Bible.
***
If you like reading online, try “Bible Gateway,” especially if you want to compare versions and interpretations and find verses that you want to remember: BibleGateway.com: A searchable online Bible in over 150 versions and 50 languages.
Who was a special teacher for you at church or school, or your friends and neighbors?
What advice do you give me for getting back into regular Bible reading?
Today, I think I will paint, lest I fall.
We had a 12-step set of stairs going into our basement and a couple years ago, I painted a white strip on the last step—which helped tremendously if it was darkish, (to not miss that last step and fall down). Very important for us oldies in our 70’s.
But there was a step toward the bottom which always challenged me, if, again, it was darkish outside and I hadn’t yet reached the light switch to light the way. My husband suggested we add white paint strips to the rest of the steps. Today I painted strips on those steps too, and I’m oh so happy. I hope it is at least 50% better than the steps were, and I hope both the young and the old will pay attention and not skip or fall on those steps.
I include the young because when the grandchildren come to our house, we have some play area in the basement (and this past Christmas dinner included a table downstairs for—in this case, all boys—including visiting cousins). And they tend to scamper down the steps without worrying about falling. Unfortunately, our grandsons also are apt to break arms and body parts as they play basketball, football, soccer, or just plain run, and some body parts are not quite developed yet in their bone strength. So it is not only the older ones of us who have to worry about falling. Eh?
I enjoyed my rather peaceful painting of the steps this morning, hoping that it would help both my husband and me—and visitors too, keep from injury. No guarantees, of course.
Above is my painting effort.
And here were the boys:
Liberating Lomie: Memoir of an Amish Childhood
I recently purchased a book at a local store that was harder to read than I expected. Saloma Miller Furlong has written her third book, Liberating Lomie: Memoir of an Amish Childhood.
Saloma writes very well, but sometimes I didn’t want to go on.
Her other books include Why I Left the Amish—a Memoir, and Bonnet Strings—an Amish Woman’s Ties to Two Worlds (published by Herald Press, where I worked for awhile). Her story had been featured in two PBS American Experience films, “The Amish” and “The Amish: Shunned.” I have also talked to her at a conference and perhaps another meeting here or there.
I will let the details to those who decide to get or read the book, but for sure the amount of beatings and whippings and bloody punishments mentioned throughout the book were difficult to read through. Saloma herself was no quiet kid who allowed such things to just happen. She fought back and succumbed with resignation to the treatments from her mother, her father who certainly was mentally ill, her brothers and even her sisters. I would not have wanted to ever live the life she experienced as a child. Just one example: when Saloma did not behave the way her mother wanted her to respond, at one point the mother put chicken poop in a rag and pushed it into Saloma’s mouth. The taste stayed with her for days.
When she was just 11 years old, an older brother began to ask her questions about having babies, and later she, under pressure, simply responded to her brother “What do you want me to do.”
I was left cold and sick. You can read more in the book.
But I was also left so very thankful that nothing like that ever happened to me, and so grateful for a loving father and mother and siblings who—while we argued and teased and occasionally threw tantrums (maybe?) and cry, and felt unloved at times, it was nothing compared to what Saloma went through for over 20 years, and then some. I don’t remember ever getting a spanking. Our family had its difficult times and yes, did wrong things—but nothing, NOTHING like Saloma’s horrible existence as a child and youthful girl.
I won’t go into more details here but if you want what I feel is a genuine inside look at what some families go through—Amish or not—check out Saloma’s book.
Saloma does not leave out the good times, closeness to her mother sometimes, and hopes she had as a child, but if you know anyone who is being mistreated by family, friends, or enemies, please help them reach out for help.
As the author says in the opening pages of the book “If you have experienced or are experiencing abuse, know that you are not alone. May you find courage to reach out for help from someone who cares. Makes sure abuse does not get transmitted to the next generation.”
If you are interested in more information related to her life today, check out her blog here: Biography – Saloma Miller Furlong
A New Look at Grocery Stores
I know, a weird subject maybe, but since I’m in my 70’s and experienced a year living in Eastern Kentucky, a photo caught my eye recently.
I was just 18 when I went to live in Kentucky. I am now a little amazed that my parents were enthused and excited for me to take a year of voluntary service through our Mennonite churches program which sent young people like myself to areas in need of volunteers. In fact, I remember Daddy often saying he hoped one of us kids would do voluntary service, similar to what he did during WW2.
This morning, a photo online showing an example of grocery stores in the years after WW1 and 2, suddenly sent my memory to the store in the community where I served. It looked much like this (I don’t remember seeing a row of brooms like this) but the owner or a helper stood in back of a long counter and fetched items on shelves that you wanted. This was 1969. There was an old fashioned cash register at the time if people had the cash, or if not, their purchases or total were written down in a book which allowed “credit” of sorts, until the person got their next paycheck or whatever. Not too different to today’s actual credit cards, of course, when you think about it.
I wrote a book (my first one!) about my experiences that year. Rachel’s store, as it was known, was the place “for everyone to stop at least once a day. Men stopped on their way to work at the strip mines, buy a pack of crackers and Vienna sausages for lunch, children dropped by after school for bubble gum, candy bars, potato chips, and ‘soda water’” as they called it. Women came for a gallon of milk or eggs during the day. On Saturdays, whole families would clamber on to the back of a pick up and go to the store to lay in supplies for a week or maybe more. Rachel’s son, Bert, a bachelor, tended the store and you could buy almost anything from a dusty can of deodorant to good mellow hoop cheese. My husband, today, loves buying cheese like that.
2: Your truly hurrying to a class for middle schoolers where I taught cooking and sewing. 3. The bounty of the garden in mid-summer, which fed six of us, plus neighbors who were happy to get veggies.
We are fortunate these days to live about two miles from a similar store, called Grandles, named for the owner, (now deceased) and now that I’m remembering things, it is quite a bit like the store we went to in Kentucky. The owner usually stands behind a counter and makes you sandwiches if you want to eat them there with friends, or sends home well-wrapped meats and cheeses. If I need something for a recipe, I can scoot down there and pick it up—a bit pricier, just like in Kentucky, but saved time and gas from running to our nearest town, about 8 miles away.
So yes, I’m old enough to live to remember these things and am so grateful for all that I learned in the hills of Kentucky but also from my own father-in-law here in Virginia and my own Dad. I learned how Stuart’s family butchered hogs and laid away the cracklings and “ponhoss” to fry, in addition to packaging pork chops and later, bacon and “country ham.”
But today I’ve very glad to just push my cart (or a bag) through the neat and clean aisles at our local Food Lion store (which originated over in Europe, I understand). In Brussels, Belgium, where our oldest daughter studied for a semester, we saw a “Food Lion” store, where three brothers started a store in the 1860’s and chose a lion as a symbol of strength. (While our Food Lion stores in Harrisonburg are not perfect, I think most of the clerks and managers at the store I go to would “know” me recognize me as a frequent customer. For what it’s worth!)
Mostly, I’m grateful for the foods that are so easy to buy, use, and enjoy—knowing that my credit card will take care of the money—at least once a month.
Yes, I’m getting old. And loving the gift of food that our God saw fit (read Genesis) for fruits, vegetables, meat (and eventually, bread and butter!) and cookies and cakes and casseroles and oh my!
This third day of 2026, I appreciate these wonderful blessings. Amen.
On Troublesome Creek: A True Story About… book by Melodie M. Davis (Still available (at times), on Thriftbooks.)
Did you ever spend a year or more in voluntary service–somewhere?
Local or in another state or country? While not for everyone, the experience can change persons for a lifetime. Right? And experiences are not all good. Just some personal thoughts here.
(Also, if you’re a little surprised at the shortness of my dress here, remember, I was 18-19 in 1969-70. Wearing warm tights.)
findingharmonyblog 