tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-198446022024-03-06T23:28:08.445-05:00Scilly's SpotJust a chronicle of my exciting life.Priscillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17112988669895238674noreply@blogger.comBlogger741125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19844602.post-57499590082786868652019-04-13T12:11:00.002-04:002019-04-13T19:05:11.649-04:00Slave Stealers by Timothy BallardI have just completed reading a most incredible and inspirational book. It truly makes me want to be a better person. To “be the change” so to speak.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Slave-Stealers-True-Accounts-Rescues-Then/dp/162972484X" target="_blank"><b><i>Slave Stealers</i></b><b style="font-weight: bold;"><br />
<br />
</b>by Timothy Ballard</a><br />
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Slave-Stealers-True-Accounts-Rescues-Then/dp/162972484X" target="_blank"><br />
</a> <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHeCAXepog4obuWkdLjK-U0ntc3ztzTTFUMK_lxSqINfh2Lu9NN9oFgTJA07EnYbltnmfb7fHntP0sM4aLOuZz0RSAZ8oBO65Z_oyyaYzBM_tdP7tUpEem2F64t67V_5Pzd-hv/s1600/IMG_1350.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="331" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHeCAXepog4obuWkdLjK-U0ntc3ztzTTFUMK_lxSqINfh2Lu9NN9oFgTJA07EnYbltnmfb7fHntP0sM4aLOuZz0RSAZ8oBO65Z_oyyaYzBM_tdP7tUpEem2F64t67V_5Pzd-hv/s320/IMG_1350.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<br />
<div>
In this book, Timothy Ballard parallels stories of slave rescues in our nation’s history to slave rescue stories of today. Yes...slavery is alive and thriving in our world today. Just because we don’t see it, doesn’t mean it isn’t happening. It is happening right in our nation and around the world. Ballard founded the organization called “<a href="https://ourrescue.org/" target="_blank">Operation Underground Railroad.” </a> This organization has been instrumental in rescuing 100s of children and young people from the evil grip of the sex-trafficking industry. O.U.R is working, even as I type this blog post, to free even more.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
This is a fascinating book because it appeals to both lovers of history and also to the human rights activists. I’m always enthralled by a good story. This one didn’t disappoint. While I have read about <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harriet_Ann_Jacobs" target="_blank">Harriet Jacobs</a> before, this retelling cast new light on her story. Her courage and bravery (along with that of others like her) is awe inspiring. She was part of a cast of people who were instrumental in freeing black people from the cruelty and bondage of slavery in America. I love how the book flips back and forth between history and what is happening today in regard to freeing people from bondage. The stories Tim tells of the rescue missions that his team has taken on put me on the edge of my seat...not wanting to put the book down. I just had to read what would happen next.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I believe awareness is the place to start to lead to change. I have become more aware by reading this book. Awareness brings a sense of responsibility to help bring about change. The question remains as to what I will do with this awareness. My first step is to share this book with you and encourage you to read it.</div>
Priscillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17112988669895238674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19844602.post-80136053914387522582018-12-29T14:37:00.001-05:002018-12-29T14:37:40.986-05:00Searching....<br />
<a href="https://dannygregorysblog.com/community/edm-challenges/" target="_blank">EDM</a> Challenge #109: Draw a Clock You Have Around the House.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://newoilybrush.wordpress.com/">https://newoilybrush.wordpress.com/</a><br />
<br />Priscillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17112988669895238674noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19844602.post-54669674562817293132018-12-27T14:06:00.001-05:002018-12-29T14:40:06.720-05:00Where is that girl?There is an artist inside me....but she is lost. I can’t find her anymore. There is also a pianist who is lost too. I can’t reach her and it makes me sad. There is a playful girl who laughed easily...and she is scarce. She was a girl who danced, played the piano constantly...often creating her own compositions. She dabbled in art work and only occasionally read a good book. There is someone inside of me who yearns to be more colorful and eccentric...but she has been imprisoned. That girl has colorful dishes, and interesting home furnishings..that bring smiles to people’s faces and generate discussion. She has a studio of her own...where she never is required to “put away” her stuff. It’s always out and beckoning her (and others) to sit down and play. On the walls of her studio, she has magazine clippings, a color pallet, photographs, and prints of inspirational artwork. There is music playing. The place is a bit cluttered...but in a fun and creative way.<br />
<br />
I’ve never been described as eccentric, but a part of me always wanted to be. I was never brave enough to do it. Is it too late to find my more creative and colorful self?<br />
<br />
This past year I committed to a book challenge of 100 books on Goodreads. The high number was chosen with the idea that some of these would include audiobooks. I did it! 45 listened to and 55 read. I succeeded...but at what cost? While I’m proud of that, the pressure to live up to the challenge was too great. I felt pressured to read or listen at almost every given free moment. I’m not doing that again. I sacrificed things I’m not willing to sacrifice again. I want to find that lost girl and maybe the list girl can fade a little more into the background.<br />
<br />
I started missing that lost girl in the summertime. I bought oil paints to try to find her. She started to emerge a little bit, and then school started. Pride wouldn’t let me relinquish the book reading/listening challenge. It was just too much to keep at it. I’m not giving up though. I won’t. I’ve got to find that girl before she disappears entirely and forever.Priscillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17112988669895238674noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19844602.post-35463975733214260792018-09-26T20:58:00.001-04:002018-09-26T21:55:45.008-04:00School Has StartedNow that school has started, I have not done any painting. Perhaps that will change once I get acclimated to my schedule. I’m not giving up on it. It is just delayed a bit.<br />
<br />
I have come home most nights absolutely exhausted. It’s like I stumble through the front door, put my book bag down, set a timer on my phone for 40 minutes, and then collapse onto the couch and sleep. Dinners around here have been rather bleak, as I have little left to offer. The good news is that we are still eating!<br />
<br />
Today I finished the last of 12 freshman orientation classes. Yes....I repeated the same presentation each time over the course of 4 days. I even repeated the same jokes. Today I was really growing weary of it. It’s especially hard if I have a non-responsive group of kids. That was the case today during first period. I would offer forth my joke to them and....nothing. Dead pan. Deer in the headlights. At least I had gotten a chuckle or two out of most groups, but this was a tough audience. Even the teacher told me that they are tough to work with because they are so quiet. My favorite group was one of the classes that came in yesterday. They were a riot and even laughed at my jokes. They answered when I asked them a question. A couple of the boys in the class were rather witty, but not disrespectful at all. That’s the kind of group that gives positive energy back to a teacher. They had me laughing. The other thing that makes a difference is the teacher. I have teachers that work with me and add their own dialogue to the presentation (and humor), which gives energy too. I also had another teacher who sat at a back table and just graded papers. Not much added energy there.<br />
<br />
In all, I had 176 students come into the library today. The vast majority spent significant time in the library, but some just came in briefly to check out a book or to print something. I really love my job. I love my school. My administrators are really great. I like most of my coworkers (See...I’m honest). I really enjoy the students. I feel very blessed. (But tired too)<br />
<br />
<br />Priscillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17112988669895238674noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19844602.post-49882439147152626582018-07-29T21:05:00.003-04:002018-07-29T22:04:22.422-04:00You can look for me herei have decided to document my progress with my art in a slightly new forum. A blog over at Wordpress. I tried it, and it seemed clumsy at first, but when I went to go publish pictures, it was so much easier than blogger!<br />
<br />
I am not totally abandoning blogger, but I do really like Wordpress.<br />
<br />
Here’s the address.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://newoilybrush.wordpress.com/">https://newoilybrush.wordpress.com/</a><br />
<br />
Come visit me!Priscillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17112988669895238674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19844602.post-31241122013030988542018-07-28T14:32:00.000-04:002018-07-28T16:25:20.016-04:00“You better get started”I have been dabbling a bit in the oils. So far...it feels very clumsy. Of course it does. It’s an entirely new medium. The thing is, I have to admit that I am a little used to immediate success with my art work. I have not felt successful yet. Oils have an entirely different set of rules than acrylics, watercolors, and colored pencils. I’m trying to get a feel for what they do right now.<br />
<br />
I completely botched a painting of sunflowers that was just too overwhelming and complicated for me to start with. Luckily I find this tutorial on YouTube. Painting the good old Apple to start with. Of course! Rudimentary!<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lcML3d7umKI">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lcML3d7umKI</a><br />
<br />
It comes complete with a link to a reference photo. I also found out through this young woman that there is such a thing as canvas paper. Much cheaper to learn on! You can also cut it up into smaller pieces for smaller studies. So I ran out to Michaels to purchase a pad of it. I’m ready to start again...except for it is almost 5:00 and that means I will run out to a party to celebrate the recent marriage of a friend’s daughter. Alas...another day!Priscillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17112988669895238674noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19844602.post-4235537415905123752018-07-14T11:48:00.001-04:002018-07-15T23:18:02.701-04:00A New Endeavor<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
When I was. A little girl, I used to love to look at the oil paintings that my grandmother and her two sisters created. I would look and look...and dream. I already was aware that I had inherited the artistic talent that they all had. It had definitely been passed down to me. I promised myself that I would someday learn to paint with oils and do as well as they did. I had admired my father’s Aunt Harriet’s work in particular, as she had perfected oil painting the most. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I planned to be an artist. Being an art major was what I was going to do. That all changed my senior year of high school. That was the year I was taking an AP art class (don’t laugh...the course exists and it isn’t for the faint-hearted). My teacher was not familiar with me from any years previous, because I was basically attending a brand new high school (We were the first graduating class...the school was formed after combining 2 previously separate high schools. This teacher had taught at the “other school”) I just couldn’t keep up with the demands and pace of the class. I was getting farther and farther behind. I finally had to drop the class, or fail it. I had talent, but I didn’t like being told what I had to paint. I also didn’t work well with tight deadlines. I painted and drew at a slow rather dreamy (some might say passive) pace. That’s just who I am.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Mr. Stevens sat with me and agreed that I needed to drop the class. He basically told me that I didn’t really have what it took to pursue art as a career. I remember that during class he mostly talked about art majors becoming commercial artists. That was where the living was made. The goal was to get a lucrative career. I totally agree that I did not really have what it took to become a commercial artist. Commercial Artists have very high demands on their time and mostly have to cater to the desires, tastes and whims of their clients. Mainly, the art is created with the goal of advertising. To be fair to Mr. Stevens, I remember him saying that keeping art as a hobby was something I should do. However, at 17 years of age, I was basically shattered. All I heard was failure. All of my goals came crumbling down to the ground. I had very high marks in mathematics. I picked myself up, dusted myself off and decided I would become a math teacher. (A very poor fit, as it turned out)</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Looking back, I wish I had studied art in college. At the very least, as a minor. I would have learned so much from it. Maybe I would not have ended up with a lucrative career, but honestly at the time, I wasn’t looking for one. I mostly wanted to become a wife and mother. I dreamed of being the homemaker with a little art studio in her house. I still think it sounds wonderful. If I had studied art in college, years later I still could have gone on to become a librarian (which is a really great fit for me). Years later when I went to inquire about becoming a librarian, I found out that I could have had any undergraduate degree...in literally anything at all. I know of at least one high school librarian who had studied art during her undergraduate years. She now is retired and spends most of her time doing artwork. She is having a grand time painting and making quilts.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Looking back with regret does nothing helpful to anyone. Things happen for a reason. I guess I don’t really regret the path I have taken. I am me...largely formed by my experiences...both the happy and not so happy ones. Now I must move forward. I decided to try to make good (as much as possible) on the dream to learn to oil paint. One of my cousins heard that I was interested in learning to oil paint. She gave me a little oil set that she had picked up years earlier and had never used. Unfortunately, it is a cheap and junky set. This particular set is a no name brand and runs for about $11 from Amazon. You get what you pay for in art supplies. If you use poor products, you will only be frustrated and that can set you up for failure. I learned that in the past with a set of very cheap watercolors. I was miserable. I finally went to my friend Claudia for help. She is an accomplished water color painter. At her request, I brought my paints with me. She demonstrated that she really couldn’t paint well with them either. She could paint better than I could with them to be sure...but even I could see the difference once she pulled out the good stuff.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
So off I went to Michaels to look at oil paints. I found the price of good oils to be very expensive! What would I do...purchase one tube of paint at a time? My husband would totally freak at the ~$100 price tag for a basic collection of fairly good stuff (and even these were mid-grade oils, NOT top of the line). We are talking about a set of 10 tubes that each hold 37mg of paint. I checked eBay and found some incredible deals! Wow! I found a great set of Winsor & Newton oils for $60 that I estimated to be worth about $120 from Dick Blick art supplies. I wanted them, but knew that my husband would frown upon it. (Unless he saw success and commitment first) I ended up bidding on a small set of Winsor & Newton 21mg/tubes. Nine of them. I could only find this particular set (that must have originally included 10 tubes) to be available for sale in Great Britain. In the U.S.A, I couldn’t find any set that had tubes smaller than 37 mg in the Winsor & Newton brand. The set on eBay was missing lemon yellow, but included 3 bonus tubes (37mgs each) of a German brand along with another bonus 37mg tube of Winsor & Newton Indian Red. I bid on it and won it for $15, + $7.50 shipping and handling. As luck would have it, I had a $13 credit on my paypal account, due to selling something on eBay a year ago that I had actually forgotten about. So I ended up feeling the payment of $9.50! I’m happy. Now all I need to do is figure out how to buy quality brushes and learn how to do this thing called oil painting.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQwrH9geCHwgmKziPqp2F-vahiPjS5kgaaTOHTDsbY6ADqkgiRwjFBo6BdwdndSFUcc4TFw3rzrhtKhFixaGqknP447toT5shoW5oe6pOuILMSVh7XWme2_EFxxuYiCP3JizW3/s1600/IMG_0981.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQwrH9geCHwgmKziPqp2F-vahiPjS5kgaaTOHTDsbY6ADqkgiRwjFBo6BdwdndSFUcc4TFw3rzrhtKhFixaGqknP447toT5shoW5oe6pOuILMSVh7XWme2_EFxxuYiCP3JizW3/s320/IMG_0981.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFiRTbC7BLwMQNU87DTyZMmi9jpmITpQK01t080fIyFBZHpGRET_YyXrQgWtEr8X4LdJBPMvmyup2Uk2XU80oWP5TVB6_wZG5IUp7WZ5DNYzdFW6p5DITO3OY5rX_NGCvfgVZG/s1600/IMG_0980.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFiRTbC7BLwMQNU87DTyZMmi9jpmITpQK01t080fIyFBZHpGRET_YyXrQgWtEr8X4LdJBPMvmyup2Uk2XU80oWP5TVB6_wZG5IUp7WZ5DNYzdFW6p5DITO3OY5rX_NGCvfgVZG/s320/IMG_0980.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Incidentally, last weekend, my husband and I, along with our oldest daughter, took a day trip to the Thousand Islands where I took pictures of this sailboat that I can hopefully use some day as a visual while painting. Nice, don’t you agree?</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtrGRdBcKO4yBKZvyw3T1Ob5MbDkuYVGoLC9cFCTTLOcNyN08NqPT0VzBKROjgIfFE7RAnP_BMjUXxemhOEeWSxMFt-S_2ToeHJnvudyKzEFXOELMdsjAt5M2Nkyb_qF1trvGf/s1600/IMG_1148.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtrGRdBcKO4yBKZvyw3T1Ob5MbDkuYVGoLC9cFCTTLOcNyN08NqPT0VzBKROjgIfFE7RAnP_BMjUXxemhOEeWSxMFt-S_2ToeHJnvudyKzEFXOELMdsjAt5M2Nkyb_qF1trvGf/s320/IMG_1148.PNG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Here is the set I won on eBay! All of my readers (all 3 of you) must hold me accountable to learn to oil paint with your inquiries as to my progress with it.</div>
<br />Priscillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17112988669895238674noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19844602.post-26435541264152588242018-06-30T12:12:00.001-04:002018-07-01T17:59:30.181-04:00God Gives Us Way More that We Can HandleAll of my life I have heard this: “God never gives us more than we can handle.” I’m sure you have heard it too. I am here to say that it is NOT true. I ran across <a href="https://nicholasmartindavis.com/all/hope-help-1-800-273-8255">this devotional</a> today and it completely resonated with me. Please take a minute to go to that link and read the blogpost of the pastor who wrote it.<br />
<br />
Over the course of about 15 years now, I have pondered something that happened to me while I was in college 31 years ago. I was 19 years old, going on 20 when I became very ill with one devestating bipolar episode that was brought about by extreme stress. (I will pause here briefly to state that I do NOT have bipolar disorder. Contrary to what the “experts” say, it is not always a lifelong sentence that you cannot heal from. I recovered from it and have never had another episode, but that’s another post) That illness changed my life. It changed my thinking: the way I looked at the sufferings and “sins” of other people. It changed some of my core beliefs. <br />
That episode completely crippled my ability to function in all relationships (no matter what the commitment level) and made daily living a complete chore. Everything I did, from getting up and dressed in the morning, to going to classes, trying to complete homework, interacting with people...and even to the simple acts of daily decision making (like what to eat), became extremely difficult. I could no longer nurture relationships and consequently lost someone very dear to me. Even my relationship with my own mother suffered dearly.<br />
During this time, I remember believing that I was a terrible failure as a Christian. When I tried to reach out for help from my Christian friends, I was simply told to “pray about it.” I kept believing that I was simply a rotten person who deserved to be punished. I became a terrible girlfriend to the boy I was dating, and I believed that I deserved to be hated and rejected by him. I was a lousy roommate. Sometimes I couldn’t get out of bed and just cried all day. It was no wonder she wanted me to move out...more rejection that I believed I deserved. I thought that maybe even God was mad at me. Maybe he even hated me and that was why I was suffering. No matter how much I called out to Him and read scripture, He didn’t seem to listen to me or even to care. I couldn’t pull it together. I kept believing that if I tried harder to “snap out of it” that I could. I failed completely. (Another interesting note here: I had no idea that I had a medical condition. It apparently wasn’t part of God’s plan for me to figure that out for another 14+ years) The aftermath was me being completely broken by the experience. The truth was this: it was way too much for me to handle.<br />
It was too much for me. God had given me something that I could not bear. I despaired even of life. I felt the sentence of death (2 Corinthians 1:8-9). Honestly, I often look back and marvel that I survived it. I only survived because it wasn’t too much for God to handle. I had to get to the end of myself. The end of myself happened when I acknowledged that I couldn’t put my hope and faith in anyone else but God alone. Up until that point, I had largely relied upon myself. I had been a very “together” sort of person. I had congratulated myself on being smart and not falling into the “pitfalls” of drugs, alcohol, or sex. I had gotten very good grades. I could always think clearly. My memory was impeccable. I considered myself to be a strong Christian because I was good, attended church regularly, was pretty well-versed in the Bible and church doctrine, and of course had “prayed the sinner’s prayer.” I was even dating another very put together person, the salutatorian from my high school class (I knew how to pick a winner! Not like some other people I knew). I was honest, reliable and trustworthy. People could count on me to be loyal. I was the one who could come through. Congratulations self....until the year all of that crumbled apart.<br />
<br />
Make no mistake about this: <u>God definitely will give you more than you can handle</u> at some points during your life. This is to show you that you need Him. This is to sharpen your faith. It is messy. It is painful. It can seem devestating. What is faith that has not been tried? It is nothing! You have to go through these things in order for faith in God to grow (Not to mention empathy toward others too). It sounds so cliche...but that’s it. The good news is that once you get to the end of yourself,...and you realize that you can’t put your faith in anyone other than Christ...it gives you a sense of peace. You can rest in Him and stop being so hard on yourself and on the people who failed to be there for you. Life doesn’t get better instantly, but somehow He gives you the strength you need to carry on. You still have to journey through life and it will be hard sometimes. Set your hope on Him and He will deliver you, although not always in the way you think He will.Priscillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17112988669895238674noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19844602.post-36892823069646691932018-04-21T11:23:00.002-04:002018-04-21T11:31:17.126-04:00Currently...<strong style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; color: #191919; font-family: Trebuchet, "Trebuchet MS", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15.729999542236328px;">Reading ...</strong><span style="background-color: white; color: #191919; font-family: "trebuchet" , "trebuchet ms" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.729999542236328px;"> In the Bible I am reading through the book of Numbers with CBS (Community Bible Study). I’m at the end. Moses has just commissioned Joshua as the new leader of the Israelites. It is at the end of his life just before the Israelites enter the promised land. In fiction I am reading <i>Cold Sassy Tree</i> by Olivia Ann Burns. I’m reading it because 2 teachers in my building expressed shock that I hadn’t read that classic yet. So far, I am enjoying it. It’s a nice change from the typical YA book, which I read quite a bit of since I am a librarian in a HS. Non-fiction: <i>Daring to Hope: Finding God’s Goodness in the Broken and Beautiful </i>by Katie Davis Majors<i>.</i></span><br />
<br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; color: #191919; font-family: Trebuchet, "Trebuchet MS", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15.729999542236328px;" />
<strong style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; color: #191919; font-family: Trebuchet, "Trebuchet MS", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15.729999542236328px;">Playing ...</strong><span style="background-color: white; color: #191919; font-family: "trebuchet" , "trebuchet ms" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.729999542236328px;"> I have not been playing enough lately. That means it is time to schedule another</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #191919; font-family: "trebuchet" , "trebuchet ms" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.729999542236328px;"> family game night...or to take time to join the Uno game that some students usually break out with after school in the library.</span><br />
<br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; color: #191919; font-family: Trebuchet, "Trebuchet MS", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15.729999542236328px;" />
<strong style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; color: #191919; font-family: Trebuchet, "Trebuchet MS", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15.729999542236328px;">Watching ...</strong><span style="background-color: white; color: #191919; font-family: "trebuchet" , "trebuchet ms" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.729999542236328px;"> I’ve been watching <i>Escape to the Country</i> lately which is a British house hunting show on Netflix. I love the quirky old houses made of stone. I would love to live in one. I love the little villages. It is such a refreshing show to watch compared to the American house hunting shows because it is down to earth. They show very normal down to earth homes of reasonable size and the clients seem genuinely content with the homes rather than looking at massive million dollar homes where the beautiful kitchens “must be updated” or complaining that the large master bedroom is “much too small” or that it doesn’t have a walk-in closet.</span><br />
<br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; color: #191919; font-family: Trebuchet, "Trebuchet MS", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15.729999542236328px;" />
<strong style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; color: #191919; font-family: Trebuchet, "Trebuchet MS", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15.729999542236328px;">Cooking ...</strong><span style="background-color: white; color: #191919; font-family: "trebuchet" , "trebuchet ms" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.729999542236328px;"> Lately I have been cooking more meatless dinners. Probably 2 or 3 a week, loaded with veggies and whole grains. They are surprisingly satisfying. My new favorite is <a href="http://bitesofflavor.com/mexican-zucchini-stir-fry/">Mexican Zucchini Stir fry</a>. I serve it over a bed of rice, topped with fresh mixed greens, crushed tortilla chips and a dollop of guacamole. Delicious! I do not miss the meat, cheese or sour cream at all. However, last night we had salmon, baked potato and broccoli.</span><br />
<br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; color: #191919; font-family: Trebuchet, "Trebuchet MS", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15.729999542236328px;" />
<strong style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; color: #191919; font-family: Trebuchet, "Trebuchet MS", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15.729999542236328px;">Calling ...</strong><span style="background-color: white; color: #191919; font-family: "trebuchet" , "trebuchet ms" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.729999542236328px;"> I rarely call anyone. However, I just tried to call my husband on his cell phone and then immediately heard it ringing inside of his gym bag in the corner of the kitchen. That means he forgot it. Oops!</span><br />
<br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; color: #191919; font-family: Trebuchet, "Trebuchet MS", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15.729999542236328px;" />
<strong style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; color: #191919; font-family: Trebuchet, "Trebuchet MS", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15.729999542236328px;">Crafting ...</strong><span style="background-color: white; color: #191919; font-family: "trebuchet" , "trebuchet ms" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.729999542236328px;"> I have not been crafting much lately. I did manage to mend the queen sized quilt I made 23 years ago. I cut off the worn out borders and sewed a brand new binding all around it. It still is large enough to fit on our bed. That is a relief since I was concerned that it wouldn’t.</span><br />
<br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; color: #191919; font-family: Trebuchet, "Trebuchet MS", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15.729999542236328px;" />
<strong style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; color: #191919; font-family: Trebuchet, "Trebuchet MS", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15.729999542236328px;">Loving ...</strong><span style="background-color: white; color: #191919; font-family: "trebuchet" , "trebuchet ms" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.729999542236328px;"> sunshine today and warmer temperatures. In the 50s today...still cold for the end of April in NY...but considering that we had snow on the ground yesterday morning, I won’t complain!</span><br />
<br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; color: #191919; font-family: Trebuchet, "Trebuchet MS", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15.729999542236328px;" />
<strong style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; color: #191919; font-family: Trebuchet, "Trebuchet MS", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15.729999542236328px;">Disliking ...</strong><span style="background-color: white; color: #191919; font-family: "trebuchet" , "trebuchet ms" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.729999542236328px;"> that none of my children will be living home this summer (other than a few short weeks). We are truly entering the phase of being empty nesters.</span><br />
<br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; color: #191919; font-family: Trebuchet, "Trebuchet MS", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15.729999542236328px;" />
<strong style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; color: #191919; font-family: Trebuchet, "Trebuchet MS", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15.729999542236328px;">Celebrating ...</strong><span style="background-color: white; color: #191919; font-family: "trebuchet" , "trebuchet ms" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.729999542236328px;"> That each of my children are doing well and are growing up to be fine adults! Praise the Lord!</span><br />
<br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; color: #191919; font-family: Trebuchet, "Trebuchet MS", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15.729999542236328px;" />
<strong style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; color: #191919; font-family: Trebuchet, "Trebuchet MS", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15.729999542236328px;">Feeling ...</strong><span style="background-color: white; color: #191919; font-family: "trebuchet" , "trebuchet ms" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.729999542236328px;"> calm. I am not worried about anything lately. Content and happy.</span><br />
<br />
<strong style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; color: #191919; font-family: Trebuchet, "Trebuchet MS", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15.729999542236328px;">Listening ...</strong><span style="background-color: white; color: #191919; font-family: "trebuchet" , "trebuchet ms" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.729999542236328px;"> to an airplane flying over the town. I also can hear a few birds singing and a neighborhood dog barking. I am not bothered in the least by the barking dog. Dogs bark.</span><br />
<br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; color: #191919; font-family: Trebuchet, "Trebuchet MS", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15.729999542236328px;" />
<strong style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; color: #191919; font-family: Trebuchet, "Trebuchet MS", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15.729999542236328px;">Wanting ...</strong><span style="background-color: white; color: #191919; font-family: "trebuchet" , "trebuchet ms" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.729999542236328px;"> to take a significant vacation somewhere. I haven’t done much traveling at all and it’s would be nice to go somewhere special just to be able to experience something new and to say that I did.</span>Priscillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17112988669895238674noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19844602.post-88807648057140007982018-04-01T14:37:00.003-04:002018-04-01T15:00:33.912-04:00Evidence of SpringYesterday was a beautiful sunny day with blue skies. It got to be about 55°F out. Even so, I was feeling miserable. I woke up with a headache and little energy. I was sloughing along with coffee and a slow start to the day. I finally forced myself to go outside for a walk. I didn’t want to...but made myself. I’m so glad I did!<br />
<br />
I decided to make it an “Evidence of Spring” walk. It is still very brown here in upstate NY...bare looking trees and a bit of snow still on the ground, but spring is on the way. I saw evidence and I took pictures. (Make sure to click on each picture so you can see it better.)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbPDGzyeNPhdSdcB4uUVB48z1ZK_6oQ5etgag2XwyrXVTX8BcBkGT2DhMxtisvoVV2-VaYXA9HKnyCGEX6BrKHgWuJ-0MnZq0jXaXOE5-s2ql8jey3fgU97pUZjFiX_z-ZxrQR/s1600/IMG_0902.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="656" data-original-width="1600" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbPDGzyeNPhdSdcB4uUVB48z1ZK_6oQ5etgag2XwyrXVTX8BcBkGT2DhMxtisvoVV2-VaYXA9HKnyCGEX6BrKHgWuJ-0MnZq0jXaXOE5-s2ql8jey3fgU97pUZjFiX_z-ZxrQR/s320/IMG_0902.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj3bXC1UhNXCcvmFl2oIa9w73-0GMnq1Go5lGIT_oEIpFbiwozWRECb-tiMoN8Xb9jeuwtvY4EAwKzjy5qxAKINLm815ncToRgrK0a1LGqVuDBIWigX6NjY9PnUZt8NOA23vZL/s1600/IMG_0901.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1308" data-original-width="1600" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj3bXC1UhNXCcvmFl2oIa9w73-0GMnq1Go5lGIT_oEIpFbiwozWRECb-tiMoN8Xb9jeuwtvY4EAwKzjy5qxAKINLm815ncToRgrK0a1LGqVuDBIWigX6NjY9PnUZt8NOA23vZL/s320/IMG_0901.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK-Pk7gwI80N2wHNmJSoJlTrfnZX0XzONBmKFYvwZL8mKX4ALo54kK9rFIXfyRqMXGylNZNeV_yFW8dfToV9n-Yf7gxQv88nW9WBCzPxJBTqIqjW1Ajz1THmewwmSP-gpCNZ9p/s1600/IMG_0905.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1382" data-original-width="1391" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK-Pk7gwI80N2wHNmJSoJlTrfnZX0XzONBmKFYvwZL8mKX4ALo54kK9rFIXfyRqMXGylNZNeV_yFW8dfToV9n-Yf7gxQv88nW9WBCzPxJBTqIqjW1Ajz1THmewwmSP-gpCNZ9p/s320/IMG_0905.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimkfTXvVo10i9awCz_2qfqBWRVFJ1MeZl6L84Nd7yob5ytYvRdjStNTyZoiHMW272n2WvIXalAvBMXThdBu2SrAvfdAt_zoMPhTzLjMgDnunYIKrOyzW3xgukLBYkJLqStRVUQ/s1600/IMG_0908.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1097" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimkfTXvVo10i9awCz_2qfqBWRVFJ1MeZl6L84Nd7yob5ytYvRdjStNTyZoiHMW272n2WvIXalAvBMXThdBu2SrAvfdAt_zoMPhTzLjMgDnunYIKrOyzW3xgukLBYkJLqStRVUQ/s320/IMG_0908.JPG" width="219" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtSByR6rYliQYXX4jvHhtNwyx_-qHXPRmsGrpCtcof-2U5RbBi0Cd-yNZSyPa6AtY73TQhbPC1XQr9FHO_10QTyde9bCZ0-SHi4D5PfvgSw-9z-QF8YPdDBbJ6n7ceKExMICMX/s1600/IMG_0904.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1371" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtSByR6rYliQYXX4jvHhtNwyx_-qHXPRmsGrpCtcof-2U5RbBi0Cd-yNZSyPa6AtY73TQhbPC1XQr9FHO_10QTyde9bCZ0-SHi4D5PfvgSw-9z-QF8YPdDBbJ6n7ceKExMICMX/s320/IMG_0904.JPG" width="274" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAXQYl6OxyKoPEpcRCsoRIOv8MzVQPdJxepK_OZ3CUYb-d5nSZf0nlHjPvCuHBJTUa-XUfs2NHI0uM9m0dJie23iHgWEEar1zZULq8gXx5LDRO2BGeVqFNH3jWn2cALXk_PQFm/s1600/IMG_0898.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1527" data-original-width="1600" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAXQYl6OxyKoPEpcRCsoRIOv8MzVQPdJxepK_OZ3CUYb-d5nSZf0nlHjPvCuHBJTUa-XUfs2NHI0uM9m0dJie23iHgWEEar1zZULq8gXx5LDRO2BGeVqFNH3jWn2cALXk_PQFm/s320/IMG_0898.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH-neT9lEbGtY7BsY1S5W05ou1pywG-o6wMEn3Lmc5yAxkPd2VDImK8hkypVLYz0E7O7G2rnZJqAkUoDf96F5nf-B7g4vOGnOad0IiSkVrVZjyHiMGEztNBruLnSZcmw68AD1r/s1600/IMG_0916.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH-neT9lEbGtY7BsY1S5W05ou1pywG-o6wMEn3Lmc5yAxkPd2VDImK8hkypVLYz0E7O7G2rnZJqAkUoDf96F5nf-B7g4vOGnOad0IiSkVrVZjyHiMGEztNBruLnSZcmw68AD1r/s320/IMG_0916.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBd3K7NTNM4jDYJK4A-SYvIhArU2k6fEhPLphLXncII-4ARMQ4hGBYvkkni7ckhPOYd7OBNOvK7_SVKcj76FZD2-I5v7u7pr9btTl7-SVgdBMT79sH13p8AG2nWwh_b67SUzZC/s1600/IMG_0907.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBd3K7NTNM4jDYJK4A-SYvIhArU2k6fEhPLphLXncII-4ARMQ4hGBYvkkni7ckhPOYd7OBNOvK7_SVKcj76FZD2-I5v7u7pr9btTl7-SVgdBMT79sH13p8AG2nWwh_b67SUzZC/s320/IMG_0907.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
He has risen!Priscillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17112988669895238674noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19844602.post-48656767500973665582018-03-24T17:36:00.001-04:002018-07-16T14:25:35.783-04:00Reading is Enriched with the InternetAs most of you probably have figured out, I am a reader. No surprise there since I have chosen librarianship as my profession. I constantly am reading and also listening to audiobooks. While I read, I quite often will pick up my iPad to look something up. I’ll be reading and something will strike my curiosity. Sometimes it is the mention of a place or a historic event. I have explored castle ruins and have strolled through the streets of small towns in Europe using Google Earth. I have googled historic names and events, sometimes to see if they really existed or happened....or to simply learn more.<br />
<br />
Today I am reading a book called <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Alice-Network-Novel-Kate-Quinn/dp/0062654195" target="_blank">The Alice Network</a></i>. It is a book about a young teenager named Charlotte (Charlie) who embarks on a daring journey to England just after the end of WWII to try to locate her beloved missing French cousin, Rose. Adding to the adventure is the fact that Charlie has a “little problem”...she is 3 months pregnant. She had originally been in England with her mother on a stopover enroute to Switzerland to take care of “it.” After ditching her mother to pursue her real purpose for arranging this stopover, Charlie goes to London to meet up with a woman who may know something about her missing cousin. Enter Eve Gardiner, who has a story of her own that takes place during WWI. The story commences by toggling between Charlie and Eve’s stories every other chapter.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_eIlJ_lrs1z5Z0Py-lJksbBOb8nVREwhCYsoB4ZtkAD68tEezw6t2wD3oaNt3_pvv0J_8o0dkGQBNVv0SYi67_1Os3VrvBLHr-GTChCpy2liyq60wVytCXyoacQgAeHnfrFGJ/s1600/IMG_1105.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="327" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_eIlJ_lrs1z5Z0Py-lJksbBOb8nVREwhCYsoB4ZtkAD68tEezw6t2wD3oaNt3_pvv0J_8o0dkGQBNVv0SYi67_1Os3VrvBLHr-GTChCpy2liyq60wVytCXyoacQgAeHnfrFGJ/s320/IMG_1105.JPG" width="209" /></a></div>
<br />
So far, this story has prompted me to look up clothing styles of the 1940’s and 1914-1918, small towns in England and France, what a <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=Lagonda+LG6&prmd=simvn&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjKvNqK-YXaAhWLuFMKHVcDCrUQ_AUIEigC&biw=768&bih=922" target="_blank">Lagonda LG6</a> looked like, and to find out more about the <a href="http://www.remembrancetrails-northernfrance.com/history/the-department-of-nord-and-the-coal-basin-under-german-occupation/resistance-to-the-first-german-occupation.html" target="_blank">spy network</a> mentioned in the book. Seriously, what did I do while reading before the existence of the Internet? The only negative is that it can slow reading down and the completion of a novel...but I think that’s a rather small trade off to learning so much!<br />
<br />
Incidentally, this book has been made into a movie starring Reese Witherspoon. As soon as I’m done reading this, I am definitely seeing it.<br />
<br />
Does anyone else enrich their reading experience using the Internet? It’s really great! I’m only on the 4th chapter and I can tell this is a great book. If you are looking for a great historical novel to read, consider picking this one up.<br />
<br />Priscillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17112988669895238674noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19844602.post-24864695602006773472018-03-14T16:41:00.002-04:002018-04-01T15:02:01.239-04:00K-k-k-Katie!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvKCy5T_VDqzwBzujRpDXpY8GTeRwktj5DZYYFCOA68YmDtiG7Fi5_9sIWBOFpai5y92LXDKkA6QMvqaddtNUdjA3YkJ2uLd5jrGS7QoVy4ZkYvLTXsM_hLF4Y07w4HTk2vVeK/s1600/IMG_1099.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="639" data-original-width="630" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvKCy5T_VDqzwBzujRpDXpY8GTeRwktj5DZYYFCOA68YmDtiG7Fi5_9sIWBOFpai5y92LXDKkA6QMvqaddtNUdjA3YkJ2uLd5jrGS7QoVy4ZkYvLTXsM_hLF4Y07w4HTk2vVeK/s320/IMG_1099.JPG" width="315" /></a></div>
<br />
Here is Kate, the dachshund we had when we were kids. She was referred to in the last post. In front of the old stove was one of her favorite spots to be....that and right next to us if we were eating anything. She was a terrible beg! This was “her” rug. The picture is probably taken in the early 1980s, although it might have been earlier, judging from the old linoleum floor. I can’t remember what year Mom and Dad had carpet put in.<br />
<br />
Those are my father’s boots there on the hearth...another familiar sight.<br />
<br />
Thanks goes to my sister, Martha for contributing the picture.Priscillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17112988669895238674noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19844602.post-73107105092661053602018-02-28T09:38:00.001-05:002018-02-28T21:23:06.666-05:00Poor Old Friend<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
A few weeks ago, I was driving down a road that I had never driven down before and I did a double take when I saw this sitting in somebody’s front yard. I had to turn around to make sure I saw correctly. My heart sank when I saw a familiar “face” looking back at me. He was rusty and neglected looking, and it broke my heart.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw1zcnggNHQztJj6bq45lydqxbK9z1GNPAtipNmHc5yRndh54gk4TGO-6xDuRP7MIxxkzmOj6kJ8yP-Ir6ucHvMEE2NgCmpf_cs7sh6Mb8c0olwksLhyWHiFaiIPf9nsPSu4WD/s1600/IMG_0885.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1219" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw1zcnggNHQztJj6bq45lydqxbK9z1GNPAtipNmHc5yRndh54gk4TGO-6xDuRP7MIxxkzmOj6kJ8yP-Ir6ucHvMEE2NgCmpf_cs7sh6Mb8c0olwksLhyWHiFaiIPf9nsPSu4WD/s320/IMG_0885.JPG" width="243" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
When I got home, I immediately sent the photo to both my sisters. I knew they would understand. I asked my older sister if she had pictures of the wood-burning stove we grew up with. I was happy when she sent the following pictures.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEginIIpQwi2AyubJ87NcCnnAhs3Q5i_vt77vZaNT5eYroT99ryMD26T3MLHkFF1wnC0d_bIWZwGwylJ0-dc5OEKer1BKqBvOj1SN7YLLkMVaSWWcUkWkoRH2iARiQl89wzQYS6p/s1600/IMG_1091.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEginIIpQwi2AyubJ87NcCnnAhs3Q5i_vt77vZaNT5eYroT99ryMD26T3MLHkFF1wnC0d_bIWZwGwylJ0-dc5OEKer1BKqBvOj1SN7YLLkMVaSWWcUkWkoRH2iARiQl89wzQYS6p/s320/IMG_1091.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPf-hBXUvTgmbfAuhWdIGSzarkuH-RiZmWp5maiuRf2-KSlkkQ57ICs-fGvH44fb3dK9nVMlPniCnZGDc0HGdTKIrqNqFecIEmEH1_pxlhGrDiDYRo_5Hpnd1-IJgnq_MS5q6K/s1600/IMG_1092.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPf-hBXUvTgmbfAuhWdIGSzarkuH-RiZmWp5maiuRf2-KSlkkQ57ICs-fGvH44fb3dK9nVMlPniCnZGDc0HGdTKIrqNqFecIEmEH1_pxlhGrDiDYRo_5Hpnd1-IJgnq_MS5q6K/s320/IMG_1092.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I have such fond memories of warming myself by this old friend during my growing up years. I slept in a room that used to be the attic. While it was insulated, it had no heat run and used to get quite chilly. Sometimes I would run downstairs on a frosty morning and dress for the day in front of this old stove. After an afternoon of ice-skating, sledding, or simply romping in the snow, I would come into the house with frozen toes and fingers. I remember leaving my snow covered boots, hat, scarf and mittens...and even my skates on occasion, on its hearth to defrost. I would lay on the rug in front of it, stretch out my feet and rest my frozen toes on my friend's "chin." He never minded.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPgc11TrLxDr1_SDctEjvPI2lr-rRrvNRh4dOC6ykh6_4doilF6eScnvSn2mV18ImVzlIyE_VIpC8OdyoHccPhWSKtvAiu6ILFEXBF4BxuLSR_cmnXyqse0B62exK9jkm2u0Vh/s1600/IMG_1093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPgc11TrLxDr1_SDctEjvPI2lr-rRrvNRh4dOC6ykh6_4doilF6eScnvSn2mV18ImVzlIyE_VIpC8OdyoHccPhWSKtvAiu6ILFEXBF4BxuLSR_cmnXyqse0B62exK9jkm2u0Vh/s320/IMG_1093.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I wish I had a picture of our dachshund. I could almost always count on finding her roasting herself in the heat of the old stove...sometimes splayed out on her back...basking in the warmth. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
So when I saw one of my old friend's cousins...just sitting out in a front yard, exposed to the elements of time and weather, I couldn't help but feel some sadness. I'm also glad to say that my older sister, my niece, and my niece's husband and baby all live in the house where my old friend still resides. He's still safe and loved.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Priscillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17112988669895238674noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19844602.post-67194322429753302482018-01-01T11:36:00.001-05:002018-01-01T11:43:42.681-05:00Your Shoebox Gift(s) Have Shipped to....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisqBL_FegMtzT6NrWzJxjy81irA4Qk5GzRWw9oFBSWp2-ffW4cmqjs-YqQDfM1aIXSwbqkj7-0ErlikVubvO-OXcCGqwUPcXxhzUUOUCjqwtpfUMeoFU3L7DqSzSvP5yhgpBZf/s1600/IMG_1086.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisqBL_FegMtzT6NrWzJxjy81irA4Qk5GzRWw9oFBSWp2-ffW4cmqjs-YqQDfM1aIXSwbqkj7-0ErlikVubvO-OXcCGqwUPcXxhzUUOUCjqwtpfUMeoFU3L7DqSzSvP5yhgpBZf/s320/IMG_1086.PNG" width="240" /></a></div>
This year when Jamie and I sent out 3 boxes for Operation Christmas Child, we elected to have the boxes tracked. I got an email saying that our boxes were shipped to the country of Togo.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Having a box tracked is a new option that I think it is very cool. Years ago, we would get a newsletter with a few pictures of children around the world opening their Christmas boxes. I was left to wonder where the boxes we sent ended up. Then, one year when I opened the newsletter I saw a picture of a girl in South Africa holding a shoe box with wrapping paper that was the exact same same wrapping paper I had used to wrap up one of the boxes we sent out. I like to think that the box actually <i>was</i> one of the ones we sent out. My husband, ever the very practical one, said, “Other people could have used the same wrapping paper.” Bah humbug! I was so pleased to see it and the joy on her face, that I cut out the picture and have carried it in my Bible ever since.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqs6Mn4qHZgRQa0heKGsZBUB1pcYAXbxM-NtZG26HX6YpycaxzrKs-WZ7OTi9rWuTFMIicYR0XVtV-ur2aZccpSOs5RKXOzWgp4JWCKwB5DsXI2mpB_nZtXNogiz0qlwQZlp3-/s1600/IMG_1087.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1196" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqs6Mn4qHZgRQa0heKGsZBUB1pcYAXbxM-NtZG26HX6YpycaxzrKs-WZ7OTi9rWuTFMIicYR0XVtV-ur2aZccpSOs5RKXOzWgp4JWCKwB5DsXI2mpB_nZtXNogiz0qlwQZlp3-/s320/IMG_1087.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
Here is the picture that still brings me joy whenever I look at it. The box I sent is the one that is wrapped in green and red plaid wrapping paper.<br />
<br />
After taking the picture of the newsletter article I clipped out years ago and getting ready to post it here, I noticed the footnote on the bottom of the page in my Bible. Click on the picture to enlarge it and look at the footnote. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
If you go to <a href="https://m.youtube.com/watch?list=PL5F6F14354FA2F0EE&params=EAEYATgBSAFYNWILMmtoYzR1d3RJdWNoMw%253D%253D&v=nyyvzpJbSvE&mode=NORMAL" target="_blank">this link</a>, you can watch a series of videos of children around the world opening their gifts.<br />
<br /></div>
Priscillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17112988669895238674noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19844602.post-72423615629174165892017-12-24T14:37:00.001-05:002017-12-24T14:41:49.752-05:00Merry ChristmasI haven’t been so great about posting lately, but I at least wanted to wish everyone a Merry Christmas!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv8osNr1MJpWnsreYXsaIkEvOTCH-LtlnR_pWcHqREbBPWoKVpC9FgxBSDaLnrp5Zm68Pgv4_Rf0HvIw0e744b06-jR6caEq6J6zqF5FP5Fvd2RiUA_feUupUWmwr-SsDkewjw/s1600/IMG_0725.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1196" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv8osNr1MJpWnsreYXsaIkEvOTCH-LtlnR_pWcHqREbBPWoKVpC9FgxBSDaLnrp5Zm68Pgv4_Rf0HvIw0e744b06-jR6caEq6J6zqF5FP5Fvd2RiUA_feUupUWmwr-SsDkewjw/s320/IMG_0725.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
<br />Priscillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17112988669895238674noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19844602.post-38456400335821946722017-11-24T10:20:00.000-05:002017-11-24T10:20:33.386-05:00Happy Thanksgiving <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg00y8NKEqbrhwG7UB-Mc1hD8jWs68dNMGKbJqS-HS6Tsu3uFQVGNUtp2MQoDNb5knro_ZK3el-zkutcF9OskHF9AvEkpThjfSgjsE9g5aprtt75Bobo7tnlpvhL0c3jvdpKRl/s1600/IMG_0841.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg00y8NKEqbrhwG7UB-Mc1hD8jWs68dNMGKbJqS-HS6Tsu3uFQVGNUtp2MQoDNb5knro_ZK3el-zkutcF9OskHF9AvEkpThjfSgjsE9g5aprtt75Bobo7tnlpvhL0c3jvdpKRl/s320/IMG_0841.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
We had a smaller gathering than other years for Thanksgiving, but it was nice just the same. We gathered at Jamie’s sister’s house. It was the year that her own children were somewhere else for the holiday...so we only had 10.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDUAD4UYIY3umg94dT9LY9skz86FlQ0bV-NwuQ2I9I_ylHnWvqRAXWFH1vJ4ROPZQHUL0jHnxl75tD8adfSY7924KMoMbztGF7MysI1UKcJjj-ymcC_MLBGL04acUkSddaTZTi/s1600/IMG_0844.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1423" data-original-width="1600" height="284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDUAD4UYIY3umg94dT9LY9skz86FlQ0bV-NwuQ2I9I_ylHnWvqRAXWFH1vJ4ROPZQHUL0jHnxl75tD8adfSY7924KMoMbztGF7MysI1UKcJjj-ymcC_MLBGL04acUkSddaTZTi/s320/IMG_0844.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div>
It has been nice having all three of our children home again. Since they are all still single and relatively close to home, we don’t have to share them yet!</div>
Priscillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17112988669895238674noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19844602.post-54009016077113507042017-08-28T11:15:00.003-04:002017-08-29T22:10:11.066-04:00Empty Nest<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkY78YXFq2xPMZ9KVykJgZH616-gMVAJS1mQne7tbIDDMK0luzBX_9WFy1Jo9t4yYve1moNnMMQZzX00PPYJAUbsj_ZVRNmRs3sSj8JrAm9xedfKnIej-STjmDtGVWkEhMls5S/s1600/File_000.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1216" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkY78YXFq2xPMZ9KVykJgZH616-gMVAJS1mQne7tbIDDMK0luzBX_9WFy1Jo9t4yYve1moNnMMQZzX00PPYJAUbsj_ZVRNmRs3sSj8JrAm9xedfKnIej-STjmDtGVWkEhMls5S/s320/File_000.jpeg" width="243" /></a></div>
<br />
Our latest news includes dropping off our youngest child at her college in western PA on Thursday morning. I am blessed by knowing that she is in a good place. Today is her first day of classes and I wonder how she is doing. It hasn't fully hit me yet that she is really gone because so often during the summer, she took off for days at a time to stay at her Aunt and Uncle's house over in Seneca County. I got used to the comings and goings. Any minute now she should barge in the front door with her older sister, both of them dumping their overnight bags in the entryway.<br />
<br />
When we dropped her off. I couldn't help thinking about what my parents must have felt like when they drop me off at college 31 years ago. Their experience was quite different. My school was a secular university and the one Alicia is attending is a Christian one. While my parents were greeted with the similar scene of a very large number of other students moving in all at once, their move-in experience with me was devoid of "helping hands" and RAs who were going room to room to pray over the incoming freshmen. My parents had to come to terms with a very worldly environment and entrust me into the Lord's hands. There would be no reassuring speech from the college president that would be peppered with scripture throughout and then culminate with a prayer for both incoming students and their parents who were saying goodbye.<br />
<br />
My roommate had arrived before me and had hung up posters of Bruce Springsteen all over her side of the room. That, in and of itself, wasn't terrible but included among those posters were ones depicting the importance of beer consumption and also one of nude downhill skiers. Although the nude skiers poster was in comic form, I knew my very conservative mother would be shocked (and she was). That sort of makes me chuckle now because that was so mild compared to what I was to face in the next several weeks. Suffice it to say that I had moved from my very conservative protective Christian home to a very secular university where virtually anything sinful was bound to go on. I do not remember my parents lingering much beyond the time it took to move me into my dorm. Maybe they took me out to lunch before saying goodbye...I'm not sure anymore. They were not invited to a speech given by the college president or to a welcome picnic following this speech, as we were. During the drive home, how did my parents feel? Did my mother feel like turning around and snatching me up in her protective arms? Did my father worry about the presence of men living on the floors above and below mine?<br />
<br />
My husband and I helped Alicia move into an all women's dormitory, where signs are posted on the walls that stress the rule that no men are allowed into the dormitory (this did not include fathers and brothers assisting on move-in day). Thirty one years ago, my parents and I rubbed shoulders with young men who were also moving into the same dorm building. Although individual floors were designated "men's" and "women's"...there were no rules or hallway locks keeping anyone from either coming into other places unannounced, or even from staying the night there. (Rest assured we <i>did</i> have locks on our individual doors, which we used.) While helping me move in, instead of being greeted by a helpful crew of upper classmen called "helping hands," my parents and I struggled with boxes and packages on our own, and were given salutations of blaring hard rock music and bad language in the hallways and stairwells. When we interacted with my new roommate, it was readily apparent that she held a very different set of values than I or my family did. She also had a polar opposite personality than I did. That isn't entirely a bad thing since we all need to learn to interact with people who are very different than we are, but it caused a bit of anxiety for my parents and I. I was quiet and conservative and introverted. She was loud and crass and extroverted. I was the goody-goody...she wasn't, and didn't pretend to be. It was enough to set me and my parents on edge.<br />
<br />
I understand that just because my daughter goes to a Christian college, it doesn't necessarily mean that all the students attending there will embrace Christianity and its values. However, I am reassured that the overall environment of this school is supportive of our values and many of the students will be as well. I will miss her, and wonder how she is doing. I will worry about her and hope that she is getting all the support she needs personally...but I am confident that she is in a good place. The support system there is strong, as long as she seeks it out if and when she needs it. Although we felt a bit melancholic, there was no agonizing as her father and I drove home that night.<br />
<br />
I really admire my parents for their bravery. No...not bravery, but for their <u>faith</u>. Many years later I asked my father what they thought as they drove away from Potsdam State University all those years ago. His response was typical of him. It was one that demonstrated the deep faith my parents had in the Lord. He stated that he knew that I had a good head on my shoulders, that they had seen evidence of my personal decision for Christ, but most of all that they knew the Lord would be with me and watch over me, just as the scriptures promise. Transitioning to that school was very rough and proved to be a pivotol point in my faith for me. It still marks one of the most painful and spiritually trying times in my history, but my father was right. The Lord was with me....even in the depths of hell that I would later face as I wrestled with a serious depression and consequential brokenness.<br />
<br />
Thirty one years ago my parents drove away from a much less than reassuring setting than Jamie and I drove away from this past Thursday afternoon. These memories and the legacy of the faith of my parents remind me that the Lord is faithful. He is with our daughter, just as he was with me...and he has been and is with my other children as well. He has been faithful all along and will continue to be.Priscillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17112988669895238674noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19844602.post-72341270334739843192017-07-25T20:53:00.000-04:002017-07-25T20:53:01.558-04:00Train Ride<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL1rLWDy584H4zVaK_WFDC8WOTQ5eyXPJEj361qKRKKFzwzBzXMNEf1GUMVzoH6z9qb1WcFH1uqdFkURNNOJPqWJrk-Ba5Wx6dRsxn3LzmBhTIhfNBqVweB2MgydZisoZXRtyV/s1600/IMG_0781.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL1rLWDy584H4zVaK_WFDC8WOTQ5eyXPJEj361qKRKKFzwzBzXMNEf1GUMVzoH6z9qb1WcFH1uqdFkURNNOJPqWJrk-Ba5Wx6dRsxn3LzmBhTIhfNBqVweB2MgydZisoZXRtyV/s320/IMG_0781.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Jamie and I took a day trip up to Old Forge on Saturday. It takes about three hours to drive there from our house, so we left early in the morning. Allen has been working at a camp up in the Adirondacks and he had Saturday off, so he met up with us. We were able to spend the day together. Allen is recovering from an infection and is generally exhausted from working at the camp, so he didn't want to do anything too strenuous. Therefore we did not go hiking, which is what we usually do. Instead, we took a scenic <a href="http://www.adirondackrr.com/adkrr/" target="_blank">train ride</a>, walked around Old Forge and then went to The Strand to see the movie <i>Dunkirk</i>. It was really good. I highly recommend it. The story is based on actual events during World War 2. We all enjoy history.<br />
<br />
After we saw the movie, we went and ate at the <a href="http://sistersbistro.com/" target="_blank">Sisters Bistro</a>. Jamie and I discovered that restaurant two summers ago and it has become a favorite. This was our third summer taking a day trip to Old Forge and our third time eating at this place. I highly recommend it. It was delicious!<br />
<br />
Sometimes I wish I were a bit more like my sister, Martha...who totes her camera everywhere and documents everything so beautifully. I'm lucky if I remember to pull out my phone and take pictures at all. This is one of the few I took and it's not all that great.<br />
<br />
We had a wonderful day. It was so nice to see Allen.Priscillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17112988669895238674noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19844602.post-17697972957388848292017-05-29T00:21:00.000-04:002017-07-20T21:48:08.779-04:00Letter to my sister regarding our mysterious Jewish maiden name<div style="color: #313131; font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; font-size: 16px; word-spacing: 1px;">
<div style="color: #313131; font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; font-size: 16px; word-spacing: 1px;">
I wrote this very long letter to my sister today, and I was so fascinated by the subject of it, that I decided to post a record of it here.<br />
<br />
Dear Martha,</div>
<div style="color: #313131; font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; font-size: 16px; word-spacing: 1px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #313131; font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; font-size: 16px; word-spacing: 1px;">
So...it will be interesting to see what Rachel's DNA results are. I'm thinking since she is the only one between the four of us who can get a tan, her percentage of "Italy" will probably be higher. I just found out from my children that they had discussed the possibility of buying me a DNA test from ancestry.com for Christmas. Turns out that Audra had already purchased a gift for me and the price was too steep for Allen and Alicia to foot just between the two of them, so the idea was dumped. (Blah hah!☹️) Now I'd really like one.</div>
<div style="color: #313131; font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; font-size: 16px; word-spacing: 1px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #313131; font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; font-size: 16px; word-spacing: 1px;">
This is lengthy...but I think it will interest you.</div>
<div style="color: #313131; font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; font-size: 16px; word-spacing: 1px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #313131; font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; font-size: 16px; word-spacing: 1px;">
The very low percentage (1%) of European Jew surprises me. However, maybe it shouldn't. Grandpa insisted that he was German and that they came from Germany. His first language was German, the food his mom cooked was all German, their customs were all German..even being part of the Lutheran church. He had a German Bible from childhood...which he complained to me once that he had lost. I had gone over there to bring him some soup once when he wasn't feeling well during those last months that he was living alone and he told me that he couldn't find his German Bible anywhere. He was troubled by that. He was sure that he had never gotten rid of it. I look back and wonder now if he somehow instinctively knew he was at the end of his life (after all...he was stubbornly still around at 94 years young). Maybe he was reflecting on his life and wanted to think about spiritual things...making him really want the Bible he had used as a kid. Also, in a conversation with Gudrun once, I told her about my Great Grandfather coming from Germany. She was very interested and told me that "Emil" was a very German name. It doesn't sound like Grandpa's family was very Jewish to me....but the very Jewish name of Plotzker is a puzzle! The other curious thing I remember Grandpa mentioning to me was that his father was fluent in several languages. I was either in my teens or early 20s when he told me that. I remember being surprised and saying something like, "He was?!" but curiously, I never thought to ask him what other languages those were...or to tell you or Rachel that interesting little tidbit of information until many years later. Was Emil fluent in Hebrew? Russian? Yiddish? Polish? English?...Was German actually a secondary language for him?<br />
<br />
Thanks to Audra, I have some more theories about his parents and background. Only guesses, but read on.<br />
<br />
<div style="color: #313131; font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; font-size: 16px; word-spacing: 1px;">
The record that ancestory.com has of the ship that G'grandpa and G'grandma came over on says that they came from a city in Poland (which one was it, again?) and their nationality was Russian. I was talking about this very recently with Audra, (my little IWU history major). I was telling her how it didn't make much sense to me because it seemed to us that they were Jewish or maybe Polish or maybe even German. She told me that it made perfect sense because of the "Pale of Settlement" imposed on the Jews during the period of time that they would have immigrated. I didn't know what she was talking about. She started to explain to me that the Russian gov't imposed Pograms on all the Jews living in their territory (which I actually knew about). What I didn't know was that something called the "Pale of Settlement" was created by Russia and part of that expanded into what had previously been known as (and what is today once again known as) Poland. Russia and many of its people didn't particularly like Jews, and since they had taken over Poland, they had even more of them to "deal with." They imposed laws on them. One of the ways to solve the "problem of the Jews" was to force them all to live in a specific region called "The <a href="https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pale_of_Settlement" target="_blank">Pale of Settlement</a>." Russia wouldn't allow Jews to live anywhere else and they also imposed all sorts of other rules on them like what sorts of professions they were and weren't allowed to have, having extra taxes, that they couldn't live within any major cities in the region, and other terrible things.</div>
<div style="color: #313131; font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; font-size: 16px; word-spacing: 1px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #313131; font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; font-size: 16px; word-spacing: 1px;">
Much of this settlement was in Poland and present day Turkey. At some point it even included part of what had been the Kingdom of Prussia (which we now see as Eastern Germany). Over the years, between its creation by Catherine the Great (who particularly disliked Jews, I guess) in 1791 and it's eventual disbandment in 1917, the western border fluctuated quite a bit. Anyone living within the Pale in what we now recognize as Poland, technically belonged to Russia during this time. Therefore, <a href="http://archiver.rootsweb.ancestry.com/th/read/POLAND-ROOTS/2003-03/1047174681" target="_blank">they would be considered "Russian" even if they lived in Poland</a>. (Thus the stamp of nationality when they came over). </div>
<div style="color: #313131; font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; font-size: 16px; word-spacing: 1px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #313131; font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; font-size: 16px; word-spacing: 1px;">
During the turn of the century, many Jewish people immigrated to America and other parts of Europe to get away from the persecution. Anti-semitism was on the rise throughout all of Europe during this time (Satan was alive and well...and prowling around like a roaring lion...wanting to devour the Jews). With the surname of Plotzker, people would have recognized Emil and Berta as Jewish...even if they no longer considered themselves to be Jewish. By then, the Plotzker family may have left the Jewish faith altogether, generations earlier, and even intermarried with Gentiles (watering down that European Jewish blood). Perhaps Emil found sympathy in a very pretty miss Berta Arndt because she was of a similar background. (Didn't you say that her last name was also of Jewish origin? Some of my searching says that too, but other sources say it is Anglo-Saxon...more puzzling, but not if she was in fact, a German girl) Could he have gone to Germany at some point and met her...and maybe even brought her "home" to the Pale (Poland)? (Didn't someone say something once about her hiding in a barn somewhere from "communists?") </div>
<div style="color: #313131; font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; font-size: 16px; word-spacing: 1px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #313131; font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; font-size: 16px; word-spacing: 1px;">
According to Grandpa, his mother only knew German when she came over and she had to learn English after she came here. I don't think she ever spoke it very well. According to Dad, her English was very broken, with a strong accent (which was very entertaining to her grandchildren at times...poor g'grandma)...and he remembered her reverting to German on occasion. G'grandpa was apparently very well educated, but I don't think G'grandma was. I remember hearing about her superstitions, which Dunja told me was very common of the older generation during her childhood in Germany. Maybe the German background they supposedly had was really only hers. ? Or here's another thought, maybe even she didn't know she had marrried a man of Jewish ancestry.</div>
<div style="color: #313131; font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; font-size: 16px; word-spacing: 1px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #313131; font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; font-size: 16px; word-spacing: 1px;">
The original Plotzkers came from a town called Plotzk (also known as Plotke, Plock, or even <span style="color: #222222; font-family: , "helveticaneue" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/P%C5%82ock" target="_blank">Płock</a>), a </span>well known Jewish settlement in Poland-inside the Pale. Everyone in Poland and Russia...and probably even eastern Germany would have known this. Which would also explain why my Spanish professor at MCC, a woman in her 50s or 60s, who was originally from Poland, disliked me <u>very</u> much! At Christmas time that year, she told the class to ask me about Hannukah because I would know all about it. When I acted very puzzled and told her I wasn't Jewish...she said "You are <i>too</i> Jewish," and then seemed very annoyed when I kept insisting that I was <i>not</i> Jewish and knew <i>nothing</i> at all about Hannukah. As I left the classroom that day she said to me, "You <i>are</i> Jewish." I just thought she was an absolute nut at the time and I came home with yet another weird story to tell at the dinner table about this awful professor I had. I couldn't figure out why she hated me from the first day of class. On the first day of Spanish class at MCC, my professor was calling names for the role call and hesitated when she called my name. She stopped and looked full into my face before going on with the rest of the names. I remember thinking it was a bit odd and almost expected her to ask me about possibly being related to another Plotzker she knew or something, but she didn't. After that, she made it obvious to everyone that she didn't like me. At first I thought it was my imagination, but as I ignored it, it intensified and other students came up to me to ask me why the teacher hated me much...to which I replied, "I have no idea." All the students thought she was a bit mentally off (and I'm fairly certain they were right) and they dismissed it at that. I remember trying to ignore it...but it persisted. I complained to Eric Shadd, who tried to convince me to report her to the dean of students. I didn't do that...and when I received a very low grade from her I really wished that I had. Years later, when you made the discovery of our surname being Jewish, I was very surprised. A few years later, after I had read more on the history of the holocaust, particularly about the intense hatred in Poland towards the Jews, the memory of this professor came back. It all made sense. She would have been very familiar with the name "Plotzker" and would have been a young woman during WW2, either in her teens or very early 20s, soaking up all the hate propaganda...which very likely could have persisted years later in her prejudice against Jews in general.</div>
<div style="color: #313131; font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; font-size: 16px; word-spacing: 1px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #313131; font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; font-size: 16px; word-spacing: 1px;">
Pretty much all of the Jewish citizens of Plotzk were massacred during Hitler's reign of terror. Terribly sad and tragic. Evil. I already told you that I once found a record of someone named Plotzker on a list of arrivals by train to Dachau. 😞</div>
<div style="color: #313131; font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; font-size: 16px; word-spacing: 1px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #313131; font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; font-size: 16px; word-spacing: 1px;">
I'm sure that Emil and Berta experienced anti-semitism no matter where they lived and wanted very much to get away from it. They came over to the USA in 1903...perhaps with a strong resolve to never mention their Jewish heritage to anyone, even their children. They were done with all of that. They could put it behind them, right? (If only they had known about the Internet back then. You can run...but never hide). They joined up with other Christian family members in Rochester (more Plotzkers who were decidedly not Jewish) who could help them settle here and start a new life. I would say they got out of Germany at a very good time. Yes...now that I've reflected upon this, I DO believe that they were in Germany at some point, but somehow found their residency to be Poland just previous to coming here. I don't know how...I can only surmise.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Audra had only begun to explain the Pale of Settlement to me when we arrived home in the car. Our conversation ended at that point, but it piqued my curiosity enough so that I started researching it during the last week. I was pretty excited to share my newfound wisdom with you and had just told Audra the other night that you had sent in the DNA test. I thought it would be interesting to see the results, fully expecting to find the percentage of European Jew to be much higher. I had planned to tell you all about my original theory...which I had to tweak a bit in the last 24 hours or so. I still think it might shed some real light on our mysterious Jewish surname.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Only now I find it quite ironic that Mom and Dad decided to bestow honor on a woman who was so nasty to our ancestors and their friends/family by naming the family dog after her! LOL! 😂!*</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Love, </div>
Priscilla. </div>
<div style="color: #313131; font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; font-size: 16px; word-spacing: 1px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #313131; font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; font-size: 16px; word-spacing: 1px;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="color: black; word-spacing: 0px;">
*Author's note: when we were kids, we had a high pedigreed dachshund called Kate. Named for Catherine the Great.</div>
</div>
Priscillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17112988669895238674noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19844602.post-75513097031873905032017-05-06T21:20:00.003-04:002017-11-05T19:34:19.766-05:00Third Time.....My youngest has made a decision to attend Grove City College in the fall. I am very pleased and a bit excited about her choice. I had wanted to attend this same school when I was looking to transfer to a four year school when I was finishing up my first year at Monroe Community College. I was so disappointed to get waitlisted by GCC. I tossed the idea of looking at Grove City College out to my first two children as a possibility, but never pressed the issue. Allen never even applied. Audra did, got accepted, but decided against it.<br />
<br />
Well...the third time is the charm.Priscillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17112988669895238674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19844602.post-23664041872497240862017-03-23T21:23:00.001-04:002017-03-28T20:00:56.365-04:00The Necessary Fire of Affliction <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-w4ddhYvxQTk/WNR1BbnU9HI/AAAAAAAALPw/xhZMWi1eX1YJuc6u5FRPCaOjUsQgpPXtgCPcB/s1600/Fire%2Bof%2Baffliction%2B.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-w4ddhYvxQTk/WNR1BbnU9HI/AAAAAAAALPw/xhZMWi1eX1YJuc6u5FRPCaOjUsQgpPXtgCPcB/s320/Fire%2Bof%2Baffliction%2B.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #555555; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 22px;">And when you begin to see that person (someone you love and desire to know Christ deeply) in the middle of a difficult and painful struggle, don’t try to prevent it, but pray that his difficulty will grow even ten times stronger, until no power on earth or in hell could hold him away from Jesus Christ. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #555555; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 22px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #555555; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 22px;">We are indeed amateurs, coming in and actually preventing God’s will and saying, “This person should not have to experience this difficulty.”</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #555555; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 22px;">~(From tomorrow's Oswald Chambers devotional)</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #555555; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 22px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><i>"The bride belongs to the bridegroom.</i></span><i><span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-26150A" data-link="(<a href="#cen-NIV-26150A" title="See cross-reference A">A</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span></i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><i> The friend who attends the bridegroom waits and listens for him, and is full of joy when he hears the bridegroom’s voice. That joy is mine, and it is now complete. He must increase, but I must decrease." John 30:29-30</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #555555; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 18px;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #555555; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 18px;">Recently I have been watching as someone I love struggles. I know that this person needs to go through this. They can't go around it. I hate to see him struggle...I hate to see him hurt...but I know it is necessary. It is the fire of affliction that will bring him closer to Christ. I want him to hear the bridegroom's voice.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #555555; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #555555; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 18px;">I've wanted to take away this person's pain. I've wished I could share some of it in order to lessen his burden, but would that be best? I think of my own fire of affliction and know that it was the best thing I could have gone through. It was the trial that ultimately made me surrender to the will of God. I must step back and allow the Lord to work in this person I love. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #555555; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #555555; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 18px;">When learning to trust the Lord with all of your heart, you must go through a time when it is difficult to trust. It is a time when you ask, "Lord, where are you?" When you think you can't possibly survive the pain...the loss, the brokenness. That is when you get to the end of yourself and throw yourself at his feet in total surrender.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #555555; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #555555; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 18px;"><br /></span>Priscillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17112988669895238674noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19844602.post-84701453735835395802017-03-19T22:29:00.001-04:002017-03-28T20:03:45.203-04:00<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Trust in the Lord and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways, acknowledge him and he will make your paths straight. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Proverbs 3:5-6</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I've been struggling with this one all of my life. Trusting him. And once I get past a rough part...there is another challenge to face. Fire. Quicksand. Flood. Desert. Okay...not literally. I've never faced any of those. I just like figurative speech. I have a thing for analogies and metaphors. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I finally came to the conclusion that life is not about living happily and comfortably after. It is not about meeting someone special, falling in love, getting a good education and career, buying a house, having a family, saving for a comfortable retirement....And then when you are old, and good and ready to die, you do...but in your sleep without any pain or suffering. It is really about learning to trust the Lord in everything. It is also learning to love those around you.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We all know that life isn't wrapped neatly in beautiful packages and tied with bows. Sometimes when a package is opened, we don't like what we see, we say, "What is this, Lord? I didn't want this one. Can I exchange it for something better?" It reminds me of that old show we used to watch when we were kids. <i>The Price is Right.</i> There were always three doors to choose from. You never knew if you would end up on a cruise in the Bahamas and a brand new sports car or the dud gift-like a lifetime supply of frozen peas. Should you choose door number one? Door number two? Or door number three? There was always a mixture of anticipation and trepidation when we watched contestants make their choice. But...don't get me wrong. I don't think that the Lord is really back stage chuckling at our disappointments. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">If everything fell exactly into place in my life...what would cause me to feel a need for the Lord? Nothing, that's what! I'd have it all together. Life is challenging. We meet new challenges all the time. Jamie and I are facing some of our own. Is this anything unique to the human experience? No. Worldwide, we have that in common with people everywhere facing challenges. <i>There is nothing new under the sun. </i>That is what Solomon wrote in his old age. He had a lifetime to draw wisdom from. I'm getting smarter as the years roll by, but that is not always a consolation.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">One consistent truth has come back again and again. "Everything is going to be all right." We've always been taken care of. We always have enough to eat, clothing to wear and money to pay the bills. Even in the face of death- yes...that has happened too. My brother when I was only 16, my father and my mother. In the face of illness...things are going to be all right. In the face of setbacks....things are going to be all right. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Because He lives, I can face the future. Because He Lives, all fear is Gone....Because I know He holds the future, and life is worth the living just because He lives." I can hear my father singing this in my memory and it is reassuring. My parents were great people of faith and I will be forever grateful for the examples they were to me.</span>Priscillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17112988669895238674noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19844602.post-48494073173932416852017-02-23T16:01:00.000-05:002017-02-23T16:02:36.425-05:00GoogledEvery once in a while I google myself just to see what comes up. This morning I googled my name using its maiden name form and found someone resembling me a <i>little</i> bit. It had my correct age, my childhood home as my current address (haven't lived there in 24 years), and my phone number as the old land line number that Jamie and I had when we were first married (which is no longer connected). But what was most puzzling was the occupation that it listed for me. It listed me as being in a managerial position for Payless Shoes.<br />
<br />
Very weird because I've never worked there. I don't even shop there. I've never worked at any shoe store in my life.Priscillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17112988669895238674noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19844602.post-23475396451234350872017-01-28T21:26:00.003-05:002017-01-28T21:26:52.357-05:00Adulting I think being the parent of adults is quite distressing at times.Priscillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17112988669895238674noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19844602.post-8906718114798566832017-01-22T13:15:00.000-05:002017-01-22T21:58:09.601-05:00Something Needs to GiveI'm really interested in the minimalist lifestyle. I could see myself totally paring down to only the necessities. It's just hard to do when no one else is with me on it. I could even see myself living in a smaller house. Not a tiny house...while I like looking at tiny houses, I'm not interested in living in one. Small, yes....but not tiny. Right now my house isn't even that big. About 1500 square feet.<br />
<br />
Today's sermon went right along with what I've been thinking about a lot lately. One thing I did was disable my Facebook account. That was yesterday.<br />
<br />
It just seems like I don't do anything that really matters anymore.Priscillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17112988669895238674noreply@blogger.com3