tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76700522024-03-07T02:43:34.940-05:00Framework of the HeartA photo blog with accompanying commentary.Falk's Creative Outlethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00548289835685805069noreply@blogger.comBlogger236125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670052.post-82903643894835939052024-01-06T14:59:00.001-05:002024-01-06T15:00:53.363-05:00Getting it Wrong<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPFnVsv1kdM0Q9fygoCtC6DPvK_z7pG_mRWl6r9mzKxCX3_ljqMVNdMXNglKy4yKeKdfvm_PbgYiLOprDEHpg4sCXoV42pIp9eO3uy_b2FreBo7LZdY2zJITkl18mChHlYX3C3TuugFoCtSihnRy4WA1KjKheXIm9_ZkAP5aojB9q4G96DAo3IJw/s3329/IMG_7846.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="320" data-original-height="3329" data-original-width="2323" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPFnVsv1kdM0Q9fygoCtC6DPvK_z7pG_mRWl6r9mzKxCX3_ljqMVNdMXNglKy4yKeKdfvm_PbgYiLOprDEHpg4sCXoV42pIp9eO3uy_b2FreBo7LZdY2zJITkl18mChHlYX3C3TuugFoCtSihnRy4WA1KjKheXIm9_ZkAP5aojB9q4G96DAo3IJw/s320/IMG_7846.jpg"/></a></div>
It seems no matter how hard I try to make the right decision - no matter how long I take to ponder and weigh and question - I still get it wrong.
Still grieving from the loss of Cody to coyotes, I decided to foster a mama and her six kittens from the Lenawee Humane Society, with the option of choosing my favorite kitten for adoption. It was a hard choice because all the kittens were good ones, people friendly and healthy, but I finally decided on the little black and white cow cat. When I returned the kittens just before Christmas, I kept her.
When she was ten weeks, I was required to return her to the shelter for spaying. But she was still a question in my mind. She liked to climb the furniture and my legs with all four sets of claws. Me, well, I would eventually heal, but the furniture! I had worked so hard to earn the money for new furniture because our old furniture, besides being out of date, was clawed up by previous cats, especially Musi who insisted on being an indoor cat.
Musi was terrified of being outdoors. She scratched upholstery, walls, woodwork, carpets - everything. I tried all different kinds of solutions, but to no avail. At the age of 4 years and 6 months, Musi was diagnosed with a brain tumor and I had to have her put to sleep.
My next cats were Cassie and Cody. They loved out doors. I trained them not to claw the couch, but that was the old couch. It was being replaced, so I wasn't concerned with the damage. By the time my new couch and chair were delivered, they only scratched the rugs that could take it and survive.
But this cat would not have the option of clawing trees outside. She would have to be an inside cat because of the coyote pack that had moved into the neighborhood. I couldn't put her outside when she was feeling wild and crazy. Shadows of Musi. I kept envisioning my fine furniture clawed and damaged. I asked myself how would I feel about this two weeks from now?
So today, when I went to pick up cow cat (CECE) from the shelter, I told them I had changed my mind and would not be proceeding with the adoption. They said, no problem. She would probably be adopted by the end of the day.
I cried all the way home.
I cried on Tim's shoulder.
I felt her absence as if I had forgotten a member of the family. I called the humane society, but the little kitten was already adopted.
Now I don't care much about the couch and chair. Falk's Creative Outlethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00548289835685805069noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670052.post-16210429741266977142023-06-22T06:58:00.002-05:002023-11-12T16:02:39.807-05:00How to Work in the Garden<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ8-MDeBS4AVizwTYe6G9JWJHPEeD3QhzB1JlWoj-HIxgt7NC-abpt1BynpcdN5H-zOkL6PhciNlZsfqksPnnxQyK2w9SzWLVjZbtuKKa5FBPbSjQEtVl8p8Y7jS0guUVQ8GN9DknRJE8XcwCVDWnW6WPsekyX3RD0Dc3CB5vvb4xn-Q3MV1QLag/s4288/DSC_0295.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="2848" data-original-width="4288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ8-MDeBS4AVizwTYe6G9JWJHPEeD3QhzB1JlWoj-HIxgt7NC-abpt1BynpcdN5H-zOkL6PhciNlZsfqksPnnxQyK2w9SzWLVjZbtuKKa5FBPbSjQEtVl8p8Y7jS0guUVQ8GN9DknRJE8XcwCVDWnW6WPsekyX3RD0Dc3CB5vvb4xn-Q3MV1QLag/s320/DSC_0295.JPG"/></a></div>
When I go out to work in the garden, I put on a T-shirt and capris and flip-flops, slip cell phone in pocket and head out the door.
Stop.
It’s too hot for capris. Go back in and put on shorts. Head out the door.
Stop.
If I’m gonna be getting some sun, it would be better to be wearing a tank top so I don’t get a farmer’s tan. Go back in and put on a tank top. Go out the door.
Stop.
Go back in and get a hat to shade face and put on some sunscreen. Head out the door.
Stop.
The shorts have pockets that are too shallow to keep cell phone from falling out. Go back into bedroom and find a pair of shorts that have deeper pockets and put them on. Head out the door.
Stop.
Can’t use the shovel when wearing flip-flops because I need shoes with a harder sole. Go back in and put on Keens.
No wonder I don’t work in the garden more often.Falk's Creative Outlethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00548289835685805069noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670052.post-46730502280804564332023-05-04T06:20:00.001-05:002023-05-04T06:20:18.852-05:00I finally got rid of the enormous house fly that was buzzing our home and annoying us greatly for about a week.
Life would be great if I had a flyswatter, but I don’t, so when the fly showed up in the living room window, I got a towel and I snapped it. Bull’s-eye. The fly fell to the carpet, dead. I picked it up with the towel, but when I opened the towel to drop the dead fly in to the wastebasket, surprise! The fly had only been stunned. Probably faking.
It flew into the kitchen window. I used the towel to capture it again. I held the fly in the towel and squeezed tight to make sure that the fly would be dead this time, but when I opened the towel, it wasn’t. It flew back into the window and got behind the window and crawled on the screen. I shooed it into the upper part of the window, and then I took out the screen. It flew away into the wide world.
I hope I never see it again.
This is just so you know that there’s a giant housefly somewhere in the world that is very difficult to kill and is probably reproducing.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgrY7bKSbSDtF9kuqXp0bKErN-g-Z5jBTEOLuEGRC-OQmu5x2GJxtd17SUI0ZFsXVdE6de6hxqITqz_NAfCOG8qfsM_VLjncBgeSAGQDaCibz-5dMbg6PsGg7NgM9rA4RSoNQP7fMoCdo8Ce3Sx_MuddNUeBt8BHtdTHZAF0SoZAcLUVuUNk8/s3872/19879218542_77953ff025_4k.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: left; float: left;"><img alt="" border="0" width="400" data-original-height="2772" data-original-width="3872" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgrY7bKSbSDtF9kuqXp0bKErN-g-Z5jBTEOLuEGRC-OQmu5x2GJxtd17SUI0ZFsXVdE6de6hxqITqz_NAfCOG8qfsM_VLjncBgeSAGQDaCibz-5dMbg6PsGg7NgM9rA4RSoNQP7fMoCdo8Ce3Sx_MuddNUeBt8BHtdTHZAF0SoZAcLUVuUNk8/s400/19879218542_77953ff025_4k.jpg"/></a></div>Falk's Creative Outlethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00548289835685805069noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670052.post-82316170163933040302022-05-10T18:38:00.001-05:002022-05-10T18:38:12.735-05:00Harley's Last DayToday we bid a fond farewell to our rooster, Harley. He was a fine and peaceful bird as far as people were concerned, but he had established a reign of terror amongst the hen population. Submissive hens were provided for and herded benevolently around the yard. His favorites had no feathers on their backs. But those who rejected his stern attentions became the objects of his wrath. Lolly had to avoid letting him get anywhere near her, or she would be attacked. Cinnamon was targeted whenever she dared to leave the coop. He also had a “gang of three” who would join the attack and peck the helpless victim on her head.
Finally I couldn’t take the violence anymore. I grabbed Harley off of poor Cinnamon and put him in jail. This would be the fenced area in the coop on top of the laying boxes where we raise baby chicks until they are big enough to integrate with the hens. And there poor Harley stayed while we decided what to do with him.
Meanwhile, within a couple of days, peace returned to the flock. Cinnamon and Lolly rejoined the other hens, and other than a few minor skirmishes, harmony is restored.
So if you read all this, you are probably wondering what we decided Harley’s sentence would be. Return him to the flock after a while? Keep him in solitary confinement indefinitely? Send him to freezer camp? No.
A guy Tim works with has a friend who was willing to give Harley a home. He’ll have to deal with turkeys and guinea hens, but he’ll be free-ranging and that’s what he wants.
Bye bye, Harley.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy5-ulBhUlnf3n9O5qaVqRprz9Rtaf21_JKKXKNm2ZwmDv84O1FOB6ggbmHrgScQ1M8zp4gKJsmdZo14ztU-30vpcECM-YgcniOnW5BEn3SVKnztB5_J_wGhiJOmnYlRoKYwt7AsyfOokVTF6AHFNbA-gbUL9Dfsndc2TPZExnuDnP-498BmE/s2048/Harleys%20last%20day.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="400" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy5-ulBhUlnf3n9O5qaVqRprz9Rtaf21_JKKXKNm2ZwmDv84O1FOB6ggbmHrgScQ1M8zp4gKJsmdZo14ztU-30vpcECM-YgcniOnW5BEn3SVKnztB5_J_wGhiJOmnYlRoKYwt7AsyfOokVTF6AHFNbA-gbUL9Dfsndc2TPZExnuDnP-498BmE/s400/Harleys%20last%20day.jpeg"/></a></div>Falk's Creative Outlethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00548289835685805069noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670052.post-17675074022372015822021-12-01T16:29:00.004-05:002021-12-01T16:29:54.738-05:00Hunting With Cassie <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRQsxdjS7XzgxpbTQdKmS0vGi9WJfBKutTi2kFNhuhQfbN7_o9xkXIjcFBKCX01BzKmfjTbv_p9ocozFfg9DBH2wj8Vjx6x0i8AD9Js7rQJIGLjGP24GXbREmc_qztjgot4mKeTw/s2048/DSC_0389.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1393" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRQsxdjS7XzgxpbTQdKmS0vGi9WJfBKutTi2kFNhuhQfbN7_o9xkXIjcFBKCX01BzKmfjTbv_p9ocozFfg9DBH2wj8Vjx6x0i8AD9Js7rQJIGLjGP24GXbREmc_qztjgot4mKeTw/s320/DSC_0389.jpeg"/></a></div>
My last cat, Musi, who passed with a brain tumor, hated going outside. She was timid of pretty much everything. I thnk it might have been because I got her as a kitten around Thanksgiving, and I seldom went outside because it was cold, so she wasn't introduced at the beginning of her life to the wide-open sky. I missed having a companion on my woods walks.
Then I got these two kittens in July, I took them out for a little while almost every day. They because accustomed to being outside.
Yesterday I woke up to a beautiful snow. Cassie and Cody went with me into the winter wonderland. They ran through the snow, chased each other, pounced on weeds, climbed trees, and stayed fairly close to me. It was great. Falk's Creative Outlethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00548289835685805069noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670052.post-51519126648018338482021-05-07T21:49:00.002-05:002021-05-07T21:49:45.915-05:00<div class="kvgmc6g5 cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">I just now walked into the backyard to shut the chickens into their coop, and I heard a frantic, terrified squawking coming from the other side of the run. I ran towards it, yelling "Hey!" and an enormous redtail flew off into the woods. A big pile of red feathers by the fence. I was afraid of what I would find, but Cinnamon, our young Rhode Island red, had already hidden herself in the coop under the nesting boxes. I picked her up and carefully looked for blood, but there wasn't any. The hawk had defeathered her back neatly but hadn't broken the skin. </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"> I'm so glad I went out there just in time. Ten seconds later and a hawk would have had a chicken dinner, I'm sure. </div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">In the photo, Cinnamon is in the foreground.</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnkkxEHBeYm0x6yvbFuaECumgq2AJxuiW2dQhinLkGuKMSYwyp4cQHMOihiM7sSXUz1lYDTuoqD6M0EsxE7uyqrgFba_hD2NZwjCiRUBxrCwEt6KFH7dnN3ZFb1nvHVos52ysedA/s2048/IMG_9011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1783" data-original-width="2048" height="324" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnkkxEHBeYm0x6yvbFuaECumgq2AJxuiW2dQhinLkGuKMSYwyp4cQHMOihiM7sSXUz1lYDTuoqD6M0EsxE7uyqrgFba_hD2NZwjCiRUBxrCwEt6KFH7dnN3ZFb1nvHVos52ysedA/w371-h324/IMG_9011.jpg" width="371" /></a></div><br /></div></div>Falk's Creative Outlethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00548289835685805069noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670052.post-41944402812065763212021-04-02T09:12:00.002-05:002021-04-02T09:12:42.015-05:00Covid Experience<p> I have not written about this past year because I really don't want to remember it. At first having everything shut down and wearing masks and attending church online seemed like an adventure - an experience. I like experiences. But then it became tedious. At first I knew no one who was sick or had died. Now, a year later, I still don't know anyone who has died, although obviously many have. But plenty of people I know have been sick and recovered. Including myself. </p><p>My daughter and her son were sick with covid in October, but neither were seriously ill. We assume her two-year-old had it too, because he puts his mouth on every singly object in the house, but he would be asymptomatic. They didn't get him tested. </p><p>ON Tuesday, November 17th, I was feeling quite tired. My MIL and daughter and grandsons were over for dinner. On Wednesday morning I woke up planning a trip to the grocery store, and then I was going to drop off some groceries for a friend who was quarantined and couldn't get out. I felt extremely weak. After just a few minutes, I realized I wasn't going anywhere. In the afternoon I developed a headache and started running a fever. The next day I started blowing my nose and coughing. </p><p>I called my doctor and described my symptoms, and she recommended I go to Chelsea for a covid test. </p><p>I had already done this once when I was in Chelsea for a mammogram. I had a sore throat and this was when my daughter was sick, so I took the free test to see if I had it. We have to be careful because Tim's mother is in her 80s and frail. It wasn't bad at all. </p><p>So I go tht nose swab test again. This swabber was not as delicate as the other one. It brought tears to my eyes. We had to wait 5 days for the result. </p><p>Over the next week my fever disappeared, but my weakness was so intense, I could barely stand up for 30 seconds before I collapsed into a chair. AS long as I was seated in the lazyboy, tilted back and relaxed, I was okay. I only had a fast-beating heart when I was climbing the stairs to my bedroom. I had achy muscles but not too bad. I lost my sense of smell on the third or fourth day, and that's when, even though I hadn't got my test results back yet, I knew I had the thing. </p><p>It was fortuitous that my quarantined husband was there to take care of me. He waited on me, hand and foot. We tried to avoid him getting it, and he never did, even though he had been to the same places I had been to and was exposed to my germs often. </p><p>The only time my worry meter started rising was when I started coughing up blood in my mucus. It was also coming out of my nose. I called the doctor and she asked me if it was bright red. I said yes. Then she asked if it was liquid pure blood or mixed with mucus. I told her it was mixed with mucus. She said it was likely that it was just irritation from all the coughing and nose-blowing, and gave me a prescription for prednisone to stop the irritation. She said to call back if it got any worse, but it didn't. It was during this time that Tim bought me a pulse oximeter, so we would know if my blood oxygen was getting low. It stayed at about 94-95. </p><p>There was also this weird smell. It was in my nose. </p><p>Tim asked me, "What does it smell like?" </p><p>I couldn't tell him. I said, "It doesn't smell like anything I have ever smelled before, so I can't describe it. It will forever be to me the smell of COVID." I'm sure if I ever smell it again, I will recognize it. </p><p>Looking back, I realized there were only four possibilities of where I could have encountered the virus: 1. Walmart on Friday when I went there to get my prescription. 2. Church on Sunday, 3. Lowes, although there the possibility was "Low". and 4. the Big Boy restaurant where Tim and I went for a late breakfast after church. </p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(21, 23, 25); background-color: white; color: #151719; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: times;">It took eight weeks to get back to normal, even though I felt fairly good after five weeks. There is no day that you turn a corner. It’s more like one day you wake up thinking the worst is over and you’re getting better, and the next day you realize it was all a lie. It seems like it takes forever. Don’t compare how you feel today with how you felt yesterday or even the day before. Compare it with how you felt two weeks ago. Then you will see that you actually ARE making progress.</span></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(21, 23, 25); background-color: white; color: #151719; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(21, 23, 25); background-color: white; color: #151719; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: times;">My daughter and others told me it takes about eight weeks before one feels back to normal on a permanent basis. That was pretty close to what I experienced. I went back to teaching at about six-seven weeks and I could have used another week.</span></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(21, 23, 25); background-color: white; color: #151719; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(21, 23, 25); background-color: white; color: #151719; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(6, 6, 6); color: #060606;">Suggestions: Take vitamin D, zinc, and silver colloidal, use a vaporizer at night and take hot showers to breath in steam during the day. </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(6, 6, 6); color: #060606;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505;">Don’t fold laundry or vacuum or load the dishwasher for a long while. Let somebody else do it. I know it’s hard to watch your house go downhill, but don’t. Give yourself complete rest.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505;"> </span></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: white; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: times;">Patience, patience, patience...<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>This is the perfect excuse to be a couch potato and watch old movies. Milk it for all it's worth.</span></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHqsYM9z_62J86hEfa4aInfYTa-xMbBNFLqZCgJPjUsruhLUdrExESy3IDPRzjfQkRfyRR_UaZ_65Rk96ixu9c9ga_dGaDUKkd8zbtJNqV7aajmj2ilt-csi9i_Lf88buy4x-RFA/s2048/IMG_7211.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHqsYM9z_62J86hEfa4aInfYTa-xMbBNFLqZCgJPjUsruhLUdrExESy3IDPRzjfQkRfyRR_UaZ_65Rk96ixu9c9ga_dGaDUKkd8zbtJNqV7aajmj2ilt-csi9i_Lf88buy4x-RFA/s320/IMG_7211.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Falk's Creative Outlethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00548289835685805069noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670052.post-87999054307671526422019-09-16T11:18:00.000-05:002019-09-16T11:18:00.077-05:00<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
Continuation of camping report, Sept. 2019</div>
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Leaving Onaway State Park and moving to Fisherman’s Island:</div>
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September 4th: </div>
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In the morning the skies were gray and there were still whitecaps on the lake from the wind. This was our moving day, so we got up and got going. We’re heading over to Fisherman’s Island on the other side of Michigan.<br />We stopped for gas in Alanson and I walked across the busy highway 31 to a bakery called Dutch Oven Shops. Pastries! Expensive, but worth it. My favorite thing was the huge cherry turnover that was almost the size of half a cherry pie. Tim and I split it. I give it a 10 out of10.<br />A short while later we passed the Oden Fish Hatchery and turned around to go back and see that. Took the hike. Very enjoyable, made for visitors. Free. I recommend it.<br />Arriving at Fisherman’s SP, we found our site: #70 on the southern loop. Its incline didn’t look like much, but it was enough to make it difficult to level our trailer. We repositioned the camper twice before we could set it up. That’s my only complaint. Some of the sites are too small for a trailer, but ours was spacious enough. Only a few could be considered level. A short walk down a beautiful north woods path leads to the Lake Michigan beach. When I read up about Fisherman‘s island, the explanation was that, when the level of the lakes went down, the island became a peninsula, but I’m here to tell you that the island of Fisherman‘s Island is now an island again. As you probably know, Lake Michigan is exceptionally high this year. The camp ground is a beautiful forest with large trees and many white birch, my fav.<br />We were visited by a young raccoon that came inquiring about a possible meal? We politely declined. He didn’t seem scared of us, though he maintained a respectful 10-foot distance. I think some campers might have unwisely entertained him.<br />We went into Charlevoix for dinner. We were headed towards a restaurant called Terry’s, but ended up eating at The Village Pub (because it advertised walleye) instead. We were told that Terry’s is one of the best restaurants in town, but there was a 45-minute wait to be seated there. The food at the Village Pub was good; the fish was a little over done. It was expensive, but Charlevoix is an expensive place. You have to be prepared for it.</div>
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<br />After we returned to camp, we went down to the official SP beach to watch the sunset at about 8:15. There were no clouds in the sky so I wasn’t expecting much, but just as the last little piece of sun dipped below the horizon, I saw the green flash. I have read about the green flash but I’ve never seen it before. I wish I had been taking a movie. I could hardly believe what I was seeing and might’ve even gotten a photograph if I had been ready.</div>
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The next day we decided to take 31 S. We drove down around Torch Lake and we checked out some lots for building that were for sale because we were wondering exactly what it would cost to have a lakefront lot on Torch, the “third most beautiful lake in the world.” I called the realtor. A 1 acre lot was priced from about $400,000-$700,000, depending on how much of the lot was buildable. Our dreams are crushed. But not as crushed as the realtor’s when I didn’t follow through on the lot.<br />On the way back to camp we stopped at Friske’s Fruit-and-everything-else stand. I can approve of their cherry turnovers.<br />Back at camp Tim went for a dip in Lake Michigan, but I could only force myself in waist -deep. Too cold. We grilled brats for dinner.<br />That night clouds cancelled my sunset plans.<br />Sitting by the campfire, we heard what sounded like a large tree crashing to the ground north of us. Later that night while in my sleeping bag, I heard another tree falling. It was a little scary.<br />Rain rain rain rain...</div>
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Friday morning it was still raining. I took a quick shower in my bathing suit outside the camper. Tim didn’t want to overfill the gray water tank.<br />Still raining so we went into Charlevoix to look around. Great stuff but, of course, all high priced. We thought about dinner at Terry’s, but according to the menu posted out side the restaurant, dinner for two will cost you no less than $60-70, and we had spent our wad on the fish the night before. We decided my home-made chili at the campfire would be every bit as good.<br />We drove south on 31 to Bier’s Art Gallery. That was the highlight of our day. Such beautiful works of art! I totally enjoyed just looking around. We bought a small brass figure of a lion by Scott Nelles, because it was one of the few things we could afford and I wanted something from that place. Afterwards we popped back down to Friskes again so Tim could get a cherry turnover this time.<br />Back to camp for chili. The clouds are finally breaking up.<br />Our little raccoon visitor is back, quietly, unobtrusively surveying the perimeter of camp. Then he came right up to Tim who was sitting by the camp fire, but skittered away quickly as soon as Tim noticed him.<br />Now I am on the beach, waiting to see if there will be a sunset tonight or not. It’s one of those maybe things: mostly cloudy with a few breaks here and there. A thin rose-colored glow on the horizon suggests maybe there will be something to see. The sun peeks through the crack for a minute, and then goes to bed. It’s over. Nothing spectacular.</div>
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Saturday: time to go home.</div>
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<br />Last night I finally learned the secret of how to be comfortable in a sleeping bag. Most nights I wake up entrapped in my sleeping bag, the thing wound around my like a python, giving me a severe case of claustrophobia. But this night I tried something different. You put the slippery side in. That way it doesn’t wrap itself around you as you change positions in the night. Hallelujah!</div>
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Before we broke camp, I climbed a steep path - and by that I mean a heart-attack inducing path - that lead to the top of the ridge behind our site. I wanted to see what was up there. Turns out there is a beautiful trail that follows the top of the ridge. I went back to camp, changed into my Keens, and got my camera, my phone, and my husband. We found a less strenuous way to get to the path behind the water pump. The trail is twisty-turny and up and down, but it’s great! I highly recommend it for hikers. I understand the trail head is by the entrance to the camp and leads to the camp beach, a distance of about 3 miles as the crow flies, but not as the path winds, according to the camp person who drove by and stopped to answer our questions.<br />After returning to camp, we finished packing everything up and left about 11:30. All said, Fisherman’s Island is a favorite park for me!</div>
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Falk's Creative Outlethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00548289835685805069noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670052.post-73330229109836659592019-09-16T11:10:00.001-05:002019-09-16T11:10:19.882-05:00<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
Camping at Onaway SP last week - Julie Reporting</div>
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Sunday: arrived at Onaway State Park. Adequate sized spot, but crowded close to other campers. On Site 23, we are across the road from sites on the lake. View of lake somewhat blocked by trailers. Can’t see sunrise or sunset from this side of the lake, so walked to the beach area to watch the sunset.</div>
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The lake is rocky with what looks like angular pieces of limestone. Not good swimming lake for that reason, here, but the swimming area is sandy and looks nice. If it wasn’t so cold, I would go swimming.</div>
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That night our large group of neighbors were having a great time, and I was tired and wanted to sleep, but I could hear every word of their loud conversations. They talked standing right next to my tent. I think it was about ten when they quieted down, so that wasn’t too bad. However, by 6:00 am they were up and talking as they were breaking camp. After they left it was reasonably quiet again. That morning, being Labor Day, most of the campers cleared out, and now the camp is peaceful, although the weather is a bit cool. Tim and I went to see the falls. They were nice. We continued over to ROGERS City on Lake Huron. Traveling up the coastline, we stopped at Hoeft State Park to give it a look see. I loved this park, mostly because of the golden sandy dunes and the jewel-tone blues of the lake and paths running throughout. I put it on my list of parks to visit in the future.</div>
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We also checked out Cheybogen SP. lots of room between camp sites. We didn’t have time to do much more than take a quick look and move on because I was hungry.</div>
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We drove up to Mackinaw City for lunch/dinner and explored the touristy strip on the main road. We ate at Pancake Chef. I had the patty melt. I had to remove the onions that weren’t grilled because I don’t like raw onions, but other than that, it was very good. Tim said his hamburger was tasty. After that we got ice cream in waffle cones and walked around. We bought a large decal for the back of our trailer: silver plate metal in the shape of Michigan. So far Michigan is the only state we’ve camped since we got the trailer.</div>
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On the way back to camp, we drove by Aloha State Park and pulled in to check it out. Nice, but basically a big grassy parking lot by the lake. The lake is stony. I didn’t get out and look at the beach. Not my kind of camp ground. (Update: several people have kindly informed me that the lake at Aloha is stoney next to the shore, but gets sandy as you go deeper. Also that the swimming beach is sandy. Thank you to them.) (I still prefer widely-spaced wilderness woodsey campsites to grassy close-together campsites. I'm a nature fanatic.)</div>
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Beautiful evening on Monday. Lots of lakeside sites available now.</div>
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Tuesday we woke to pouring rain. It’s a good thing our noisy neighbors left on Monday. Their tent sites were underwater. FYI: Don’t reserve site 24.</div>
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Tim and I took showers. I would give the showers a rating of 10 for cleanliness, a place to sit, powerful hot-but-not-too-hot showers, two hooks (3 is ideal), BUT the shower drains were slow and pretty soon one is standing in two inches of water with people’s hair wads floating around one’s feet. So they get a 9.</div>
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The sun came out and it warmed up. Tim had no interest in going to Mackinaw Island, so we stayed at camp. We got out our new toy: an inflatable kayak. Although it was supposed to be suitable for two people, it really wasn’t. So Tim and I took turns kayaking the lake.</div>
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Clouds moved in and the rain returned. We had hobo dinners for supper, but the potatoes didn’t get done so we had to finish them in a frying pan.</div>
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That night there was more rain, but mostly there was wind. All night the wind whistled through the trees. Condensation appeared on the inside of the tent part of our hybrid camper and the wind shook it off on us occasionally throughout the night just let us know who was boss.</div>
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Falk's Creative Outlethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00548289835685805069noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670052.post-19972499590248965732017-01-31T22:43:00.001-05:002017-01-31T22:48:43.559-05:00<br />
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My Daughter-in-Law to be, a liberal, asked me why I
voted for Trump. Herein lies the explanation. I am not looking for arguments. If you want to criticize, the election is over; don't bother. <o:p></o:p></div>
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When Trump first appeared on the stage as a candidate for
the Republican nomination, I thought ‘he’s just there for something to do - to
put another notch on his belt and be able to say he was president.’ I never
believed he could win. I thought he was could even screw everything up; that
with the mood the country was in almost any Republican could win against
Hillary, if he would just get out of the way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Over time I changed my mind. I came to the conclusion he was sincere in
his desire to “save” our country. I also believed our country needed
saving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought, maybe… just
maybe…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But what really got me to vote
for him was that the alternative was Hillary Clinton. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p> </o:p><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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To start with, let me just state that I unapologetically align myself with
the Republican party.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I voted for Jimmy
Carter in the 70s, but went with Reagan in 1980 and have voted Republican ever
since. That does not mean that I would not consider flipping if the reasons
were there. <o:p></o:p></div>
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When Obama ran in 2008, I voted for McCain without much
enthusiasm. After Obama won, it was my sincere hope that he would do well and
that I could vote for him in 2012. It didn’t turn out that way. I had numerous
concerns about the direction our country was headed. Here are the main ones: <o:p></o:p></div>
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I hoped that Obama care would work, although I doubted that
it would, because I recognized that healthcare was in a downward spiral.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Insurance companies charged more and more and
covered less and less, and people with chronic conditions could not get insurance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought about it so much that I wrote a
five-page paper documenting my thought process over the situation – what was
wrong with the present system, but also what I thought would happen if the
government took it over. Here is a link to the paper in my blog:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><a href="http://falkspot.blogspot.com/2009/08/thoughts-on-healthcare.html">http://falkspot.blogspot.com/2009/08/thoughts-on-healthcare.html</a><o:p></o:p></div>
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Since writing this, I lost my healthcare, despite Obama’s
assurances that I would not. <o:p></o:p></div>
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My school said it could not afford the rising costs of
insurance, even though I was paying half, and I would have to go find my own
(private school with under 30 full time employees). I went to a company the
school recommended to get help finding insurance. I sat down across from a man
who told me that our best bet was Blue Cross Blue Shield, and that our premiums
would be $1,250 a month. Seriously.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
that was with a $5000 deductible. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
cried. But it would pay for a yearly physical exam and mammograms, he
said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Big deal. <o:p></o:p></div>
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After crying for a while, I bucked up and began praying. A
friend told me to look into a health share group, so I did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tim and I ended up with Samaritan Ministries.
Much better deal, even though it doesn’t pay for yearly checkups, blood tests,
mammograms, or prescriptions. Still way under $1,250 a month. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Since then other people I know, people who couldn’t afford
health insurance and signed up with Obamacare, were, at first, happy with it.
Then their premiums went up. Then they went up again. Their premiums doubled
and tripled. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Obama just talks about how everyone is signing up for his wonderful healthcare. He either doesn't realize it's not affordable for most people, or he just doesn't care. Probably doesn't know what to do about it. </div>
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Another concern I had was the lack of border control.
Members of terrorist groups hostile to our country have stated that they would
be coming in and establishing sleeper cells in the U.S.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I take the threats seriously. All you have to
do is look at what is going on in Europe as a result of unvetted immigrants and
refugees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am not concerned for myself,
but for our country as a whole. We aren’t perfect, but this is still a
wonderful place to live and I want it to stay that way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know most of the refugees are not a threat
and can actually contribute to our country, but I also believe that potential
terrorists are coming in with them, or maybe just people who do not accept our
laws and wish to promote Sharia law. It doesn’t matter that little has happened
so far; when it happens, it will happen all at once. We need to be proactive,
not reactive. We need a president who will protect Americans, and at the same
time help those refugees we can. If our country becomes a place of fear and
suspicion, if our economy doesn’t remain strong, we won’t be in a position to
help anybody. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not nearly as
concerned about Mexicans and South Americans coming over the border. We can
absorb them. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Another thing that bothers me was the huge increase in taxes
and regulations placed on businesses. Big and small businesses are the golden
goose of our society.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Democrats, like
Bernie Sanders who go around crying about the 1% or 2% or whatever, say the
goose is evil, and they want to strangle the goose and get all the gold eggs
right now. Republicans want to feed the goose so she lays more gold eggs and
will continue to lay eggs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most of the
money collected in taxes from our government comes from people with jobs. It’s
called income tax. People get jobs when they go to work for companies. Healthy,
growing companies hire more people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
government takes in more taxes. (I know it’s more complicated than that, but
this is not a book.) <o:p></o:p></div>
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It is tremendously important for our country to stay strong
economically – for the sake of a strong military, for the ability to help the
poor, even for the ability to protect the environment. All you have to do is
travel to a third world country and see that poor people cannot afford to be
careful with the environment because those people are just trying to survive
day to day: air pollution from burning trash heaps rises in the air; children
play in piles of trash that get blown about by the wind because the villages
cannot afford to pay for a dump truck to haul it away; poor sewage systems
overflow, and rivers stink… well, you get the idea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you want a clean environment, you won’t
get it by impoverishing the population. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I hate abortion. I can’t imagine that it’s not murdering a
human being.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I don’t believe that at
this point it will be criminalized. It’s possible that it could be restricted,
so that full-term babies are not killed, pulled apart, and sucked out of their
mother’s wombs. But since pro-choice people insist that that almost never
happens, that shouldn’t bother them too much. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The infrastructure! Experts have been warning us for years
that the infrastructure is getting old and we need to start modernizing it now,
not wait for it to collapse. By infrastructure, I mean the sewage and water
systems and the electricity grid, as well as the roads. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So this is what Obama did: He tried. He proposed a bill. The
GOP blocked it, they said, because of the way Obama proposed to get the money.
They said it would not be enough and was not sustainable. Eventually a huge
expensive bill got passed, but it’s very wobbly and still doesn’t have a good
outlook for a long life. Parties can’t agree on whom to soak for the money. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What about supporting Israel? Obama seemed to despise the country. His parting shot was to have our UN rep abstain from blocking the UN vote that would allow Israel to be declared an illegal occupier of the West Bank. He also sent millions of dollars to the Palestinians, no doubt to be used for peaceful activities. Trump says he will support Israel. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p>Supreme Court Judges. We need ones that will support the constitution, not legislate from the bench. A liberal Supreme court could make changes and laws that we will have to live with for the next twenty years or more. That's scary. </o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Another thing that bothered me was how people who had real
religious convictions against gay marriage were being sued and persecuted at
the whim of gay couples that decided to use them to make a statement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People who have worked hard to build their
businesses were losing them and even threatened with prison because they
refused to go against their convictions. If doesn’t matter what a person believes,
one ought to be free to run a business without going against your faith. Gay
people are free to marry and they can go elsewhere to get their flowers and their wedding cake. No one is
stopping them from getting married. They don’t have to force their beliefs on
others. And NO this is not the same as racism. And it’s definitely not the same
as abortion, so don’t even bring it up. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What I saw was that the president and the Democrat party did
not see things as I saw them. They thought (and Hillary actually said this in a
speech) that the border was under control, the National Affordable Healthcare
plan was working just fine, and Christians needed to change their beliefs; the
economy is growing [<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“</span><span style="background: white; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 11.0pt;">President Barack Obama may become the first
president since Herbert Hoover not to serve during a year in which the growth
in real GDP was at least 3 percent.” (<a href="http://www.cnsnews.com/blog/terence-p-jeffrey/obama-may-be-first-president-hoover-not-see-3-gdp-growth">http://www.cnsnews.com/blog/terence-p-jeffrey/obama-may-be-first-president-hoover-not-see-3-gdp-growth</a>];
</span>Planned Parenthood was a victim of an evil video entrapment scheme, no
one was selling baby parts, no one should be arrested... except the guys who made the video. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They did not even acknowledge that there was a problem. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was really angered by Democrats and even Obama himself
accusing people who disagreed with him on policy as – gee-whiz, they must be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">racist</i>. I am not a racist and I despise
racism, but I’m not going to go along with something I think is wrong just
because I’m afraid of being called a racist. And the Democrats seem to pull out
that word and fling it around every time they want to cow their enemies, along
with every other smear tactic they can think of.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Example: When McCain chose Alaska Governor Sarah
Palin as his running mate, she should have been the freaking poster child for
feminism, but because she was Republican, she was mocked, implied racist, called
stupid, her family was attacked, and every word that came out of her mouth was
twisted into something it wasn’t. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
couldn’t take it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t blame
her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Yes, I know Republicans do it,
too, but I don’t think to such an extent.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So when Hillary said about half the people supporting Donald
Trump: “<span style="background: white;">You know, to just be grossly generalistic,
you could put half of Trump's supporters into what I call the basket of
deplorables. Right? The racist, sexist, homophobic, xenophobic,
Islamaphobic -- you name it.” I thought – there she is. </span><span style="background: white; font-size: 14.0pt;">“</span><span style="background: #f4f3db;">The soul of the (wo)man showed itself for a
moment like an evil face in the window of a reputable house.” (O Henry, “The
Roads We Take”) </span><span style="background: #f4f3db; font-family: "helvetica neue"; font-size: 11.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That’s what she thinks of me and hundreds of thousands of
other Americans like me. Is it likely she will care about what I think or about
things that concern me? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The natural question that follows the above is, “Well what about
the disgusting, horrible things Trump says? What about his attitude towards
women? What about his verbal attacks on people?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Indeed. I do not take them lightly. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On to Trump. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: #16191f; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">Trump has shown
himself to have the potential to be obnoxious and offensive. He is hot-tempered
and quick to lash out. (But frankly, so is Hillary, she’s just better at hiding
it.) I don't blame anyone for having his/her doubts. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #16191f; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">There is reason to doubt the stories of some of the women who
accuse Trump of sexual abuse. Some of them have questionable history, the
stories of others have been contradicted by witnesses, and one in particular is
connected to Hillary’s organization and is motivated to lie. I also know that
if you want to destroy a man’s reputation, all you have to do is accuse him of
rape, or even just sexual impropriety.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>If there were only the two of you involved, you can’t prove he did it,
but he can’t prove he didn’t. Even an innocent man will have his reputation
destroyed and suspicion will follow him around for years. Would Hilary arrange
this to damage her opponent?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think she
would. BUT, having said that, I think there is obviously no doubt that he has
acted inappropriately towards women. When you listen to the tape, he says,
“They’ll let you do anything.” This implies that they were allowing his touch,
but still it is inexcusable. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #16191f; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">But I also think that he has learned a few lessons in the past 10
years. People are all a mixture of good and bad. If you really want to know who
the man is, look at the entire picture. He has also done much good. He hired a
woman to oversee the construction of a major project - the first time anyone
did that in New York. He hired a woman to be his campaign manager. Who else has
done that? Women who have worked closely with him have stated that he was
always respectful of them. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #16191f; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">He has apologized for his words and actions. He says he has
changed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But if it turns out that we do
have another "sexual predator" in the White House - well - we
survived the last one. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #16191f; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">There is also the old worn-out accusation of Trump being a
racist. Democrats call everyone a racist to the point it has become laughable
and easy to dismiss, but we must address it, because if he is, then that could
be a deal-breaker.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I see no evidence of
this. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People say he is against
immigrants. He has never said anything against immigrants - his statements
about many of the persons who come over the border being criminals pertained to
"illegal immigrants." Black people and Mexicans who have worked with
him say he is not a racist. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t fear Trump’s “finger on the button” because that’s
just hysterics. It takes a lot more than one decision from one man to launch a
nuclear missile. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #16191f; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">They both lie, but here I see, again, a difference in the type
of lie. Hillary’s lies are deliberate, skillful, manipulative, and dangerous. They
are also lies of convenience. Trump’s lies are lies of convenience, hyperbole,
miscalculation, and brain farts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If he’s
lying about the women’s stories, which he claims never happened, then I have to
add “personal.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So what we have here is two "flawed" candidates. </div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t particularly have confidence in either of their
moral characters. I perceive a difference in the category of flaws each has.
Hillary’s flaws could lead our country to disastrous consequences. Trump’s
flaws are more of a personal nature, like Bill Clinton’s debacles. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am not voting for best Christian, and I can’t vote on the
basis of morality. I don’t have that option, nor would a highly moral man or
woman necessarily make the best president. It takes guts, self-confidence, and
a certain amount of arrogance to think you can run the country. They both have
that. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So what is left?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Platforms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Which candidate’s
policies most closely align with mine? Who sees things the most like I do? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Trump.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The end. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Looking back at what I have written, I can hear the objections, the counter arguments, the ways I would respond, but it's unlikely many will read this anyway, and it's past time to go to bed. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Let me add a quick link to an article that I think explains my position almost perfectly: </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Wayne Gruden: If You Don't Like Either Candidate, Then Vote for Trump's Policies <a href="http://townhall.com/columnists/waynegrudem/2016/10/19/if-you-dont-like-either-candidate-then-vote-for-trumps-policies-n2234187">http://townhall.com/columnists/waynegrudem/2016/10/19/if-you-dont-like-either-candidate-then-vote-for-trumps-policies-n2234187</a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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</style>Falk's Creative Outlethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00548289835685805069noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670052.post-74322661076920250592016-01-16T17:52:00.003-05:002021-02-19T07:25:09.149-05:00My son and his girlfriend have had a child<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6cl8w2jbWwELVNESxPpb7cPHMEw7g0t6n9Hp-m1SCNMId5Uk68Eq93Xq_tYxmmsjc7fj0MVYD4y52yrXBJn93BQv7SZQyiR1pv2xPgZVmyNdt8i2xygq-Wr_lVgVEmGLHYDcwSg/s1600/IMG_8293.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6cl8w2jbWwELVNESxPpb7cPHMEw7g0t6n9Hp-m1SCNMId5Uk68Eq93Xq_tYxmmsjc7fj0MVYD4y52yrXBJn93BQv7SZQyiR1pv2xPgZVmyNdt8i2xygq-Wr_lVgVEmGLHYDcwSg/s320/IMG_8293.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
I am the grandmother again. This baby has no name yet, other than Falk. So precious! update: his name is Beckett. <div><br /></div>Falk's Creative Outlethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00548289835685805069noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670052.post-84119141845807490822015-12-18T07:23:00.001-05:002015-12-18T07:23:54.069-05:00It was 1978, I think. In the summer I was a counselor in a camp in Canada - Camp Pioneer on Lake Clearwater. Counselors got one day off every two weeks, and on this day one of the counsellors from the guy's side of the lake had asked me if I wanted to go see that new StarWars movie with him. So there we were in this grand old theater in Port Mary, a huge, wide screen in front of me. We had our choice of seats, because the movie had been out for a while, and most nerds had already seen it.<br />
The curtain in front of the screen opened and the now iconic wording rolled away into the vastness of space. Then the tip of a triangle-shaped spaceship appeared overhead. It grew and grew and kept growing as it gradually took over the screen, giving you the sense of how enormous it was and also the feeling of power and its inexorable advance. Then I was taken to another world....<br />
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<br />Falk's Creative Outlethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00548289835685805069noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670052.post-75233668829859759622015-11-25T19:34:00.001-05:002015-11-25T19:40:55.073-05:00Babysitting a Toddler<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Being a grandmother - It's a lot of work, but it's a chance to have little children in the family again, and that's worth anything.Falk's Creative Outlethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00548289835685805069noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670052.post-34981762143968166942015-07-05T15:14:00.000-05:002015-07-05T15:14:02.085-05:00Anything worth having<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">That which is worth having in this life requires no less than blood, sweat, and mosquito bites. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This is what I muse about while picking blackberries amid sharp thorns and swarming mosquitoes. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Blackberries might be my favorite fruit. There is nothing better on ice cream. Nothing. But trying to obtain them is a challenge. So after helping my husband build our long-anticipated chicken coop, I hoed the garden, then covered myself with a second coat of OFF with deet and braved the edge of the woods. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">First of all, and worst, are the mosquitoes. I believe the exchange rate is one bite per two berries. They literally swarm you, trying to find any little patch that is not protected by toxic chemicals that we willingly spray on our skin because anything is better than not being unable to sleep because of itching mosquito bites. They will bite through your shirt if it is not sprayed. The only spot on me that was without OFF was the tip of my nose, so one mosquito made that her target. I sprayed more OFF (I took the can out there with me) on a paper towel and applied it to my nose tip. So then, realizing that this might be her one and only chance to propagate, she went for my eyeballs. Not kidding. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">After you pick all the ones you can easily reach, there are still those that require a pound or so of flesh to pick because they are in the back. Perhaps blackberries also require blood, because - think about it: First they put their seeds in delicious little fruits, so animals will eat them and spread the seeds around. Then they grow deadly sharp thorns like barbed wire around the treasure, and for what reason? Obviously, blood is somehow needed. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Finally, blackberries ripen in July, hottest month of the year. Wearing long pants and sleeves might be helpful if it weren't for the fact that it's 86 F. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So there you have it. Picking blackberries is miserable, and yet I still do it. The taste is amazing. </span></div>
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<br />Falk's Creative Outlethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00548289835685805069noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670052.post-65591277478800828092015-01-24T16:48:00.001-05:002015-01-24T16:48:41.925-05:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Sixteen years ago our 8-year-old son began a campaign that started with the words, "Can I have a dog?" That spring all my reasons why having a dog would not be a good idea fell by the wayside. Why? Because of my love of photography and William Wegman, that's why. We purchased a Weimaraner puppy and named her Lucy.<br />
Nine years later Sam moved out and left us with the dog.<br />
Lucy has been a good companion and a naughty doggy.<br />
She mothered an abandoned 3-week-old kitten we took in in 2009.<br />
She loved swimming in the river and hunting muskrats.<br />
She used her claws to leaved deep scratches in the wood frames of the doors.<br />
She would suddenly break out into a deep, heart-stopping bark if something was outside the house, or even more commonly, when nothing was outside the house.<br />
She made the chair next to my computer her place. She kept me from sitting for too long by barking to go outside, and a few minutes later, barking to come back in again.<br />
She ate half a pizza carelessly left on the kitchen counter.<br />
She played fetch with frisbees and sticks.<br />
And she gradually got older and older.<br />
Yesterday she died.<br />
And the dog that I did not want left a hole in my heart.Falk's Creative Outlethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00548289835685805069noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670052.post-155444837994717942015-01-07T21:38:00.001-05:002015-01-07T21:38:29.625-05:00After a long break....Not that I am a regular writer, but since flickr.com no longer has an easy link to my blog, it doesn't occur to me to add to my collection.<br />
HOWEVER, some very important developments have taken place since the fall of 2013.<br />
I am now a grandmother. My daughter gave birth to a baby boy in July. Pretty significant, I'd say.<br />
I long for the day they move back to Michigan and I can see and hold my baby boy more often. But they are 18 hours away.<br />
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Falk's Creative Outlethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00548289835685805069noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670052.post-30730621237519462732014-03-04T14:45:00.001-05:002014-03-04T14:45:07.061-05:00London at 17<div style="margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0; font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/piper/10490383836/" title="London 17"><img src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5491/10490383836_7a585c17e9.jpg" alt="London 17 by CaptPiper" /></a><br/><span style="margin: 0;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/piper/10490383836/">London 17</a>, a photo by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/piper/">CaptPiper</a> on Flickr.</span></div><p>A dearly loved student. She cracks me up. Today, during play practice, she made a comment on another student's line: "We want to make sure to 'pronunciate' that word correctly." <br />I cracked up. the students thought I was laughing at the other student, but I was actually laughing at the irony of London mispronouncing "enunciate."</p>Falk's Creative Outlethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00548289835685805069noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670052.post-5883002654506162732014-03-04T14:32:00.001-05:002014-03-04T14:32:47.073-05:00What I Like About This Winter<div style="margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0; font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/piper/12580676564/" title="What I Like About This Winter"><img src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5485/12580676564_8e769f8b57.jpg" alt="What I Like About This Winter by CaptPiper" /></a><br/><span style="margin: 0;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/piper/12580676564/">What I Like About This Winter</a>, a photo by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/piper/">CaptPiper</a> on Flickr.</span></div><p>The deepest snow, the coldest temps, the fiercest winter in my memory. Also one of the most beautiful. <br />I'm sitting in my classroom listening to my drama class doing their first read-through of our next play. Some students are so good, and others are... not. I've got my work cut out for me.</p>Falk's Creative Outlethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00548289835685805069noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670052.post-10061692101156390062013-04-09T07:24:00.001-05:002013-04-09T07:24:56.560-05:00Playing in the White Sand<div style="margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0; font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/piper/8626016376/" title="Playing in the White Sand"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8107/8626016376_6e65b02aa4.jpg" alt="Playing in the White Sand by CaptPiper" /></a><br/><span style="margin: 0;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/piper/8626016376/">Playing in the White Sand</a>, a photo by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/piper/">CaptPiper</a> on Flickr.</span></div><p>We moved my daughter and her new husband to Alabama last week. We spent an afternoon in Pensacola on the beach.</p>Falk's Creative Outlethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00548289835685805069noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670052.post-1465460345197834942012-12-20T15:46:00.001-05:002012-12-20T15:46:21.511-05:00Cable Television<div style="margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0; font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/piper/69701817/" title="Brownie"><img src="http://farm1.staticflickr.com/9/69701817_6ca5c49d2d.jpg" alt="Brownie by CaptPiper" /></a><br/><span style="margin: 0;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/piper/69701817/">Brownie</a>, a photo by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/piper/">CaptPiper</a> on Flickr.</span></div><p>When I was a little girl, my father told me that someday we would have to pay to watch TV. I envisioned us paying for each individual program. I envisioned me wanting to watch TV and my dad saying couldn’t because he wasn’t paying for Lost in Space or Gillian’s Island. But above all, I just couldn’t believe that some day we would have to pay for something that was free, but he said that pay TV wouldn’t have any commercials. But he didn’t foresee the greed of big business.<br /><br />Finally, years later, cable television became a reality. As an adult, I resisted. Analog TV was fine; I refused to pay for cable, satellite, anything. I saw families, people I respected, falling, one by one, for the cable TV. Still I refused. I told the telemarketer that I wouldn’t get cable even if it was free because I already spent too much time in front of the boob tube. But they found a way. <br /><br />A couple of years ago, analog TV was ended and all signals became digital. I naively believed that the $20 converter would work. But when we plugged it in, our reception narrowed to two and a half channels. We could get channel 4 and channel 7, and 11 came in – kind of. So, if we wanted to have any kind of choice at all, we had to get cable. <br /><br />So now we pay about $60 a month that we weren’t paying before for many channels, most of which have commercials, just like always, and about half of which are just ONE BIG COMMERCIAL. I’ll admit that the reception is great. Also, I love the DVR that seeks out and records my favorite shows. Television is better. But if I could go back, I would.</p>Falk's Creative Outlethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00548289835685805069noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670052.post-10264337083177555772012-11-18T08:58:00.003-05:002012-11-18T08:58:53.339-05:00The Necklace<div style="margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0; font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/piper/8196428564/" title="The Necklace"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8200/8196428564_4a0f99367e.jpg" alt="The Necklace by CaptPiper" /></a><br/><span style="margin: 0;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/piper/8196428564/">The Necklace</a>, a photo by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/piper/">CaptPiper</a> on Flickr.</span></div><p>While wedding shopping last spring, Emily fell in love with these Nadri earrings we found at Von Maur in Briarwood Mall, but they were very expensive. Eighty bucks for high-end costume jewelry? Not happening. Then I told my sister about the earrings and her friend Dorthy overheard. Dorothy generously gave Emily the money as a shower/wedding gift to buy the earrings. <br />Emily found a pendant necklace that kind-of matched the earrings on the clearance table (same store, same brand) and bought it. But I found a necklace (pictured) on sale in the display case that matched even better. It was the perfect wedding piece to balance the simplicity of her dress. The regular price for this necklace was $145 and it was on sale for $80. I really wanted to buy it for her, but what with paying for the wedding, even on sale, I couldn't find a way to fit the necklace into my budget. I asked the lady working that counter if the price might go down further. She said it might - that Friday was the day further markdowns happened. I gave her my number and she agreed to call me if the price was reduced. The lady's name was Jan. <br />Faithfully, Jan called me for the next four weeks. Each week, the necklace was still there, but the price was still the same. I went on vacation out West and still received the calls. Finally, as we were headed back home, she called with the exciting news that the necklace had been lowered to under my price point target! She agreed to hold it for me until I could come pick it up. That night we arrived home, and the next day I drove to the mall and purchased the necklace, just in time for it to be Emily's shower gift. What a great sales lady! If you are ever purchasing jewelery at Von Maur, be sure to ask for Jan! <br />(Emily gave me her pendant to go with my dress and earrings. Perfect!)</p>Falk's Creative Outlethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00548289835685805069noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670052.post-41428107210903034882012-02-02T20:57:00.001-05:002012-02-02T20:57:20.327-05:00Pie-Making 101 - the dough<div style="margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0; font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/piper/2592112881/" title="Pie-Making 101 - the dough"><img src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3009/2592112881_f36438d32e.jpg" alt="Pie-Making 101 - the dough by CaptPiper" /></a><br/><span style="margin: 0;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/piper/2592112881/">Pie-Making 101 - the dough</a>, a photo by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/piper/">CaptPiper</a> on Flickr.</span></div><p>Sequences:<br />Making an apple pie for Sam's b-day:<br />Acquire ingredients. Fortunately, Tim went to the store to buy everything. Unfortunately, he forgot the apples. Go to store, buy apples. Get ingredients for crust on counter: can't find the pastry cloth - anywhere. Fortunately, I recently purchased a new one. Unfortunately, it hasn't been washed yet. Wash pastry cloth. First, remove and dry last load of laundry. NOW wash pastry cloth. Start to make crust. The recipe, which is always on the back of the Crisco can, is not on the back of the Crisco can. Can't remember precisely how it goes: go look on the internet. <br />At last - the pie is put together and in the oven. <br />Going by the test crust, this could possibly be the tenderest, flakiest, most perfect crust ever! As long as I don't burn it. <br />For the complete instructions on how to make a pie, go to my Flickr stream and click on the set "Making Pie".</p>Falk's Creative Outlethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00548289835685805069noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670052.post-71391676696743452792011-12-26T17:25:00.001-05:002011-12-26T17:25:22.236-05:00Rest in Peace, Callie<div style="margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0; font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/piper/6577573443/" title="Young Callie"><img src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7160/6577573443_b5f1836da7.jpg" alt="Young Callie by CaptPiper" /></a><br/><span style="margin: 0;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/piper/6577573443/">Young Callie</a>, a photo by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/piper/">CaptPiper</a> on Flickr.</span></div><p>RIP Callie: born April 27th, 1994, to Isabelle. Passed quietly in her sleep December 26, 2011, aged 17 years and 8 months; She lived a long and healthy life, for a cat; She was born in this house and lived here all her life. Callie caught many mice and birds; she vanquished strange cats; was never hit by a car, bitten by a dog, or even sick. She ruled her territory with an iron claw. She slept next to me when I was sick. She took many walks in the woods with me. She was beautiful. I shall miss her.</p>Falk's Creative Outlethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00548289835685805069noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670052.post-57655571539847191212011-11-05T20:05:00.001-05:002011-11-05T20:05:04.126-05:00The Martin Family, approx 1904<div style="margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0; font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/piper/6316866518/" title="The Martin Family, approx 1904"><img src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6106/6316866518_d6fa3d998f.jpg" alt="The Martin Family, approx 1904 by CaptPiper" /></a><br/><span style="margin: 0;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/piper/6316866518/">The Martin Family, approx 1904</a>, a photo by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/piper/">CaptPiper</a> on Flickr.</span></div><p>Lydia and Edward Martin pose with their sons, James, Merritt, and Irving. <br />Copy of letter written to Merritt Martin by his mother exactly as was written.<br />Clinton, Michigan, <br />Oct. 14, 1918<br /><br />Dear One & all: <br />My dear boy, tomorrow is your birthday – 38 years ago tonight about 9 PM, I knew there would be in our house within a few hours a little babe, your father sick and no help. Aunt Anna Martin came & staid that night with us. It was a beautiful night but no brighter than the eyes of a little boy they laid in my arms before daylight, and my baby’s cradle was the back part of his mother’s bed, where he nestled and got uneasy. Mother just drew him over to her & when he was where his mother was, he was such a contented child & he would open his eyes so big when mother talked to him & we were very happy together – just as you and I have always been & when I ask the question when I am so old and need my boys so much, why am I alone; I shall not complain because I have many things to feel thankful for. I never forget to feel grateful for my home & the comfort and peace there is here even if I do miss the once dear faces & today I have thought of you for the last few days & wishing I knew what I could send that baby boy for a birthday present. My money hasn’t come yet & I have nothing to buy with this time – take the wish for the deed & the knowledge that your mother loves you tonight as never before & and shall always love you dearly just as you love your children – somehow I have been thinking of you folks for the last few days wondering if you are sick. I hope not. It is nearly 10 & I am unusually tired & sleepy tonight, so I will wait and finish in the AM. <br /><br />After dinner, Wed. 2 PM & just before dinner I went up town & got a letter from Edie. It was such a good one, he has been promoted to mess chief, the same as sergeant for 150 men, pretty good, don’t you think? I feel quite proud of my navy boy. He will hold that position for 3 weeks & one half of that time is gone now & then they are going to send him to school for 3 months & he is very anxious to commence. I made a nice hickory nut cake today which I will send tomorrow for him & AJ. AJ is better & and out to work again. I got a letter from Anna this week, she isn’t feeling very good. Tom & Carrie I expect are in Cleveland – will stay until after Tom’s birthday which is the 9th of November. The children always make a big spread that day for their father. Everything in Clinton is about the same, they closed the school this AM on account of so many bad cols. Frank Parker and his older boy are sick in bed with Spanish influenza. Edie says they don’t put no sugar in any of their food so for 3 weeks I have sent him something - tomorrow a hickory nut cake for him & AJ – last week Mr. Quigley sent him a box of candy & some marshmallow cookies. I haven’t heard from Irving since the 3rd of Oct. Mrs. Clark got a letter – out of 20 men, Irv. head 10 are gone – so Gladys is helping him out in the office – isn’t it nice she is able to help out in that way. Schools and churches are all closed in Boston on account of the influenza. It is a beautiful day here today. Word came from Adrian about 1 o’clock Sat. nite that Germany had surrendered, I was woke out of a sound sleep by the fire whistle at the light plant, the woolen mill whistle & the church bells & men over at the depot pounding the building with a flat board & somebody shooting off guns & before I could get dressed thought the town was burning up – rushed to the corner I said to a woman standing there – “Where is the fire?” – “over in Germany” she said – “The Germans have surrendered” then I went back to the house & to bed – when someone fired a gun 3 or 4 times just a little ways from the house – I got to sleep about 4 in the AM – but they will have to do that job over some other time. Hope to hear this week that you are all well. Love to you all. <br /><br /> Mother Martin <br /><br /><br />Notes from Julie Falk, grand daughter of Merritt Martin. Nov. 5, 2011 <br /><br /> I typed this from a typed copy of the original and am assuming that the sentence structure choices, spelling errors, and use of an ampersand instead of and are all preserved from the original handwritten letter. The location of the original letter or if it still exists is unknown to me. <br /><br /> “Mother Martin” is Lydia Briggs Martin, born 160 years ago in 1851. She died 1936. She would have been about 57 at the writing of this letter. She was married to Edward A. Martin who died in 1906. I don’t have his year of birth. My Aunt Eileen (Martin) Austin showed me where Lydia lived – it’s a house on Railroad Street that still stands. They had three boys, James, Irving, and Merritt. I don’t know what in what order they were born, but I never met my great uncles, although there are photos of James as an old man. Lydia and James are buried in unmarked graves in the Clinton cemetery. Their names are recorded in the cemetery records, so I know approximately where they are buried, but in those days no one had enough money for things like headstones. Merritt was born in 1880 and died in, I think, 1970, but I should double-check that year. He married Genevieve Barr of Saline, and they lived in Saline where they raised six children: George, Eileen, Ruth, Charlotte, Warren, and David. (Ruth was my mother) Merritt and Genevieve are buried in the Saline Oakwood Cemetery. <br />The references to influenza and WWI make this especially interesting. We know that Germany didn’t surrender officially until Nov. 11th, so I’m not sure what the people of Clinton were reacting to when they celebrated Germany’s surrender, assuming the second part of the letter was written on Oct. 15th. It might have been expectation of Germany’s surrender. Germany suspended submarine warfare on Oct. 20th. Or it’s possible that she didn’t get back to finishing the letter until almost a month later, although that seems unlikely to me. Perhaps she was responding to the knowledge that it was only a rumor when she said, "They'll have to do that job over some other time." - Looking forward to the day when Germany made their surrender official.<br /> My grandmother Genevieve’s only brother, Hollis, died in 1918 at age 18 of the influenza. He was serving in the military at the time. <br /> I don’t know who Edie is, although he might well be a grandson named after her late husband. <br /> The phrase “out of 20 men, Irv. head 10 are gone” – A little confusing, but I’m guessing Irving was head of 20 men and 10 have joined the military.</p>Falk's Creative Outlethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00548289835685805069noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670052.post-23163434627367808842011-11-03T15:05:00.001-05:002011-11-03T15:05:19.003-05:00The Blue Sky Is Never More Beautiful Than in the Fall<div style="margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0; font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/piper/6308505475/" title="The Blue Sky Is Never More Beautiful Than in the Fall"><img src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6095/6308505475_15795b1b7a.jpg" alt="The Blue Sky Is Never More Beautiful Than in the Fall by CaptPiper" /></a><br/><span style="margin: 0;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/piper/6308505475/">The Blue Sky Is Never More Beautiful Than in the Fall</a>, a photo by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/piper/">CaptPiper</a> on Flickr.</span></div><p>This is what a northern Michigan color tour looks like from a convertible.</p>Falk's Creative Outlethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00548289835685805069noreply@blogger.com0