Category: People

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208 Steps

I put on my shoes and went out for a short walk a few minutes ago – because I wanted to measure the steps from my front door to a redbud tree just down the street. Carefully counted, there were exactly 208…..

When I was a little girl, I always knew that my birthday was coming soon when I saw the spring flowers – especially jonquils, in bloom. (We called them “Easter Flowers”.) Those bright yellow blossoms made me happy back then – and they still do. I love spring and all of its beauty….jonquils, lilacs, hyacinths, dogwoods, and redbuds. It is such a beautiful time of year! Anyone who knows me well knows that I love taking pictures – in fact they might tell you that’s an understatement! Nevertheless, in the spring I am always looking for pretty scenes or bright blossoms to photograph and share with others. It has been a hobby of mine for a long time.

This year is no exception. As I drive to and from work each day, I am eagerly searching for pretty places to stop and shoot a few pictures. I dearly love sharing beautiful or useful or enjoyable things with others. (Possibly whether they want to see them or not! I am sometimes probably too enthusiastic!)

About a week ago one of my neighbors, Sharon, messaged me and told me that there was a beautiful redbud tree she wanted me to see. She thought perhaps I might like to photograph it. I was delighted that she wanted to share the information with me, but I was very busy and didn’t have time to pay attention to the tree for a couple of days. The Ozarks are heavy with redbuds this time of year, and the landscapes are cheerful with their color. In fact, I had already taken several pictures of redbuds this spring,and I didn’t really expect this tree to be all THAT much different. I was very definitely wrong!

I finally decided to check it out one afternoon. Camera phone in hand, I started down the sidewalk. I didn’t get far before I saw a house painter sitting on an overturned bucket eating lunch in the shade of the redbud. As I walked on down the sidewalk, I was studying the tree and trying to decide what made it seem special to Sharon. Was it the shape? No, that couldn’t be it. The shape was nice – but really nothing out of the ordinary. Was it the height? I decided that probably wasn’t it either. This tree was really not any bigger than most of the other redbuds I see. Was it the color? Maybe that was it…maybe….this tree did perhaps seem a little bit brighter than most. I wasn’t really sure. As I got closer, the man eating his lunch put down his sandwich and looked at me questioningly. I smiled and told him that I was sorry to interrupt his break – that I was just there to take a few pictures of the redbud tree. He smiled and said, “Yeah, I took some pictures of it too. I’ve never seen anything like it before!”

That’s when I first noticed the trunks of the tree. They were covered in brightly colored shoots – little clusters of blooms all along the trunks and branches. It was breathtaking! I had truly never seen anything like it! I then became excited, trying to decide the best angle to photograph the beauty of this unique tree. The sun was bright, which made the lighting a little difficult. I liked the challenge, though. I was so happy to have a chance to shoot the beautiful pictures. I enjoyed every minute! That night, I had fun going through the (MANY!) different shots to select which ones I wanted to share. I was so grateful to Sharon for calling the tree to my attention. It is literally only 208 steps from my front door. (Remember, I counted!) I had already seen the tree several times this spring. It is just down the sidewalk from my house! I never noticed how unique and beautiful it was though. It was a redbud tree – and I expected it to look like a typical redbud – so even though my eyes saw it every day…I didn’t truly see it. I didn’t take the time to stop and really notice the obvious and unique beauty.

I have thought about that several times since. It makes me wonder what else I am missing – in the landscapes around me, but also in the people I encounter and the opportunities available to me every day. From now on, I am really going to try harder to see and appreciate them. I don’t want to miss the good things. I am delighted to think about what I may find.

I really hope you enjoy the pictures. I am excited to share them.

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Was it a Good Day, or Was it a Bad Day?

Actually, that day in 2003 started out as a pretty normal day. I was at home in my apartment in Springfield, Missouri. I got up that morning, had breakfast and visited with my Mother by phone. She and Daddy were planning on going to Harrison to run some errands and they were looking forward to a nice day out. Mother loved to shop, and Daddy wanted to stop by and visit his friend, Bob Myers. Daddy and Bob had been friends for years, and whenever Daddy was in Harrison he liked to stop by Tom-Bar, Inc., Bob’s business on Industrial Park Road, to say hello and catch up a bit.

Mother and Daddy were going to invite an older friend to go with them. They wanted to give her a chance to get out of the house and let her get her grocery shopping done. I had been searching for a new table lamp for my living room, and Mother mentioned that she would look to see if she could find one that fit what I was wanting. She has always loved to shop!

Daddy wasn’t much of a shopper at all, but he did like to get out and about. He enjoyed people. Since his early retirement due to his Parkinson’s disease, these days were good for him. He liked driving his truck and getting out of the house. He had gotten that truck second hand from his brother, my uncle Jerry. It was a nice one, and we all enjoyed it. In fact, when I was home, I would often ask Daddy if I could drive his truck up to Sonic to get a Coke. It was pretty sharp… and also a fun truck to drive, so I know Daddy was looking forward to a pleasant afternoon.

It looked as if was going to be a good day for all.

Just before lunch, my cell phone rang. Mother called to tell me about a lamp she had found. She was excited – she thought it was exactly what I was wanting. She said it was a tall, narrow table lamp with an antique brushed gold colored finish. It sounded perfect. I told her to buy it and I would give it a try. I was happy she had found something and so was she. She loves to help! In fact, she would make a great personal shopper!

After lunch, I was doing some computer work when my cell phone rang. I looked at the number and smiled when I saw the name “Mother” displayed on the screen. I wondered if she had found another lamp she liked better – or if this was perhaps going to be a call about a good buy she had found on a package of ground round or a 5# bag of potatoes, wondering if I might want one also. Pushing away from my desk and leaning back in my office chair to relax, take a break, and visit a bit, I flipped open my phone. Everything changed instantly when I heard a strange voice say, “Is this the daughter of John and Jean Carlon?” Jerking up in my chair, I quickly replied “Yes, what’s wrong?” The strange voice continued, “They are all right, but they’ve been in a pretty bad wreck. Your mom is hurt worse but she is awake and talking. Your dad seems to be okay. They are taking your mom and the older lady that was with them to the hospital by ambulance. The older lady seems all right – just shook up. This is Bob Myer’s daughter, Laurie. I will stay with them until you get here. I’ll keep your mom’s phone if you need to call me.”

I hung up in shock – rushing to grab my purse and put on my shoes so I could get out the door and on my way to Harrison. I’m typically pretty calm – but this hit me hard. I called my friend Kay and asked if she could ride to Arkansas with me NOW. She was wonderful – waiting outside when I drove in to pick her up. We headed for Harrison – an hour and a half away. The thing I kept thinking about was that Mother hadn’t talked to me. Since I was a little girl, she has always worked so hard to reassure and protect me. I knew absolutely that she would have asked to call me and let me know she was okay if she could at all. It would be one of her priorities. She hadn’t called.

We got to the Harrison hospital emergency room as quickly as possible and I saw Daddy sitting in the waiting room. Laurie Myers was there also, as she said she would be. She handed me Mother’s phone and purse and updated me on all that she knew. She gave me her phone number on a piece of paper and told me to call if I she could be of any more help – then she said goodbye to my dad and left. My strong, quiet, kind father was sitting in that waiting room looking so shaken and lost. The physical and emotional trauma of the accident, coupled with the fact that he had now missed a dose of his Parkinson’s medicine, had left him unable to walk or talk well. Without his medicine, his body would just sort of lock up and his voice would reduce to barely a whisper. I hugged him and asked him if he was okay. He assured me he was and whispered urgently, “Go check on Mama.” I headed for the emergency room.

Mother was definitely hurt. Her knee had hit the dash hard and broken the truck’s stereo completely in half. The knee was badly injured, and her leg was gashed so deeply it was alarming to see. She was struggling a bit to breath due to the pain of multiple broken ribs, but she smiled when she saw me. Even though her eyes definitely showed she was in pain they were bright and clear. I instantly felt reassured.

The lady with them was also glad to see me. She was lying alone in the emergency room bay, and she looked relieved when I walked in. Her injuries were not as severe. Mother was definitely the one hurt the most. The doctor discussed the details and assured me that she would be fine – it would just take time for her injuries to heal. I was so grateful.

Mother and Daddy’s pastors, Mark and Joanna Bryant had arrived at the hospital before me. They had stayed until I got there and had prayed for Mother in the ER. When I arrived, they said they were going to check on Daddy’s truck – that Mother had mentioned that she had bought a lot of groceries that day. I will never forget the Bryant’s kindness. They somehow found the lot where the truck had been towed and gathered up all the spilled groceries and other items (including my new lamp) from Mother’s shopping. They came back by the hospital to tell me they had retrieved them, and would take them back to the church so the groceries could be kept in the refrigerator until we could pick them up.

The wreck, it turned out, really was a pretty bad one. Daddy was driving west on Industrial Park Road in Harrison. Mother was sitting on the middle seat, which was set a little higher than the main bucket seats. Their friend was sitting in the bucket seat to the right. As Daddy went through the intersection of Industrial Park Road and Speer Drive, a car driving south on Speer Drive was traveling fast and ran the stop light, hitting Daddy’s truck on the front driver’s side and knocking Daddy unconscious. The hard impact turned the truck to the right, headed straight toward Vikki Hudson’s Insurance Agency. Crossing the intersection diagonally, the truck headed over a brick retaining wall and crashed down onto the parking lot below. Still moving forward, they were headed straight toward the corner of the insurance company’s brick building. Despite her injuries, Mother half stood and got her leg over Daddy’s to slam on the break and stop the truck. They were just a few inches from hitting the building head on.

I stayed at the hospital until Mother and her friend were settled into a room and as comfortable as possible for the night. They were exhausted but smiling when I left – and I felt comforted knowing they were in a room together. I took Daddy, now completely exhausted, home to get his medicine and get some rest. When I laid down that night, I finally let myself relax and think everything through. I thought about how pleasantly the day had started and about the phone call from a strange voice that abruptly changed everything. I thought about Laurie Myers Mayfield giving up her time to stay at the hospital until I arrived. Even though I had never before met her personally, I felt comforted knowing she was there with my parents and would call me if the doctors needed to speak to me or if anything happened I needed to know about. She was my lifeline that day, and I will never forget her kindness. I thought about Mark and Joanna Bryant who dropped everything and rushed to the hospital when they heard about the wreck. I thought about them going to the trouble of locating Daddy’s truck and working patiently to gather all of the items from the day’s shopping and keep them safe for Mother. They didn’t have to do that – but it meant so much that they did. I thought about the EMT’s, police, and others who worked the wreck that afternoon, caring for my parents and getting them the help they needed. I thought about Kay who rushed to be with me at the hospital and had been there to help in any way she could. Lastly and definitely most of all, I thought about the fact that my Daddy was safe at home resting and that my Mother was safe, and stable in the hospital – her body already beginning the slow process of healing so that she could come home.

The lamp Mother bought that day was slightly bent in the wreck, but the damage is difficult to see unless you examine it closely. I did keep it. In fact, it still sits in my living room today. When I look at it, I often remember that day 16 years ago.

As it turned out, that day was a very good day.

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Meals Are Important

I made one of my absolute favorite recipes for supper this evening. Many of my friends know it as my Mexican Chicken recipe, because I make it often. In truth, it’s really my Mam-ma’s. It was one of my favorite meals when I was a child – and it still is one of my favorites today. Even though I know it by heart, almost every time I prepare it I drag out my copy of the Morrilton Assembly of God cookbook and turn to page 58, middle of the page. The recipe, just as Mam-ma wrote it years ago, is there for me to follow. I always smile when I get to the sixth ingredient listed – “½ of a 43 cent package of Taco Flavored Dorito”. In case you ever stumble onto this cookbook (which is not likely!) and want to prepare Mam-ma’s Mexican Chicken – let me translate that for you… The “43-cent” means the 9¾ ounce package – and it will cost you around $3.00 today.

I was only a toddler when this old cookbook was published and sold. To have one of my own, I had to run photocopies of my Mother’s cookbook – and I’m so glad I did. The recipes are treasures – and so are the names listed inside and faces they cause me to recall. Preparing this old casserole recipe brings so many precious people and wonderful memories to my mind. It connects me to people and places that I enjoy thinking about.

Cooking is like that for me. It connects me to others in a lot of different ways. Recipes that have been passed down, meals that have been enjoyed…..they all link back to people. When I make Mexican Chicken, I think of my Mam-ma. She was a driving force in my life, and I was so blessed to have her with me for my first 21 years on this earth. Mam-ma’s recipe originally required boiling and deboning a chicken – a task I’ve never really enjoyed. This past year, I purchased the Magnolia Table cookbook. Now, I follow the “Poached Chicken Breasts” recipe on page 85 – and I am grateful to Joanna Gaines and her team for the wonderful shortcut. What a great time-saver – and another connection. I also think of many great evenings when I served this dish to different guests and we spent time around the table laughing and talking.

Several weeks ago my pastor, Billy Burris, shared a brief devotional before our communion service that has really stuck with me. He talked about the significance and the intimacy of sharing a meal with others. When we eat together, bonds of friendship and/or family ties are strengthened. He talked about the importance of making meals special – of setting the table nicely, of preparing things well, of setting aside time to listen and connect. At mealtime, he said, we become vulnerable. We serve one another. We desire to share with others that which nurtures us. Bro. Burris’ message was a good one, and I have thought of it often since. Meal time is important!

Having a meal with someone is often a game changer. Acquaintances become friends. Friendships grow closer. Family ties are strengthened. Memories are made.

I remember seeing a T.V. interview with Dr. Maya Angelou many, many years ago. Oprah Winfrey was conducting the interview and she started enthusiastically talking about the fabulous meals she had eaten at Dr. Angelou’s table. Maya Angelou smiled and stated that preparing a meal for others is a very important task – because sharing a meal is a most intimate experience. She talked about the importance of every ingredient – and how she thinks carefully about her guests and what they would like. She talked about the opportunity you have to make others feel special by preparing a meal for them. I have remembered it until this day. Meals can be important events – with joy, strengthened bonds, and treasured memories as a result. People will remember the good experience!

Here’s an example. My Mother is almost famous for her tacos. (Its because they are incredible!) She has made thousands of them through the years – and people still (routinely!) ask her to prepare them. They are really, really good! In fact, several years after my Mam-ma passed away, her husband Harry (my mother’s stepfather) called to ask a favor. Would Mother be willing to drive down to North Little Rock and make tacos for him? He was getting older, he said, and he would just love to have her tacos one more time. He mentioned that he had tried to explain to his new wife how to prepare them, but they just weren’t the same.

That next weekend, I rode with Mother down to Harry’s. We carried in all the groceries and she settled in and went to work. When she got ready to fry the tacos, Harry (who usually always sat in the den watching T.V. until the food was ready) was this time sitting at the table waiting eagerly for the delicious meal he was anticipating. Mother heated the grease and dropped the first taco in to fry. The hot grease sputtered and began to sizzle loudly. I saw Harry’s face just light up. He looked at his wife beaming and said, “There! That’s it! That’s the way they always sounded!” It makes me smile now thinking about it. Those tacos brought Harry a lot of joy that day – and we all had such fun sitting at the table eating and sharing.

Meals are important.

If you would like to try Mam-ma’s Mexican Chicken, click here for the recipe:  Mam-ma’s Mexican Chicken

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Thank you, Mrs. Turner – Teachers Make a Difference

I remember a time a few years ago when a good friend of mine, Bob Leftridge, asked me if I knew the answer to a trivia question – and thankfully I did. He chuckled when I told him the answer – and then said in his pleasant, musical drawl – “Well, that’s pretty good, but I’ll bet you can’t say your alphabet backwards!” I instantly lit up – because, in fact, I CAN say my alphabet backwards…..really….and I had been waiting many years for someone to ask!

I learned to say the alphabet first from my Mother. As a toddler, I had a little desk with all the letters of the alphabet painted around the edges. I would point at them one at a time while she would tell me the names…until I could finally identify and say them by myself. I thought it was great fun! When I turned five years old in April of 1972, kindergarten was not offered in Conway County, Arkansas public schools. I loved to learn, so Mother and Daddy enrolled me in Mrs. Reba Turner’s half-day kindergarten that fall.

I was so excited and nervous the first day of school, but Mrs. Turner quickly put us all at ease. I looked forward to going to school every day. In her kindergarten, we started every morning with a prayer – and then we said the alphabet together. Mrs. Turner had the alphabet strip neatly tacked on the wall above the chalkboard. She would lead us by walking along and touching one letter at a time with a pointer. When she got to Z, she would slowly move back up the list until we returned to the letter A. Therefore, to this day I know my alphabet forwards and backwards.

Mrs. Turner’s kindergarten was held in her home. I suspect our little school was originally a carport – but it now served beautifully as our classroom. She had a lovely space for us to learn – and a fun playground out back. She was strict but kind, always well-prepared, and conscientiously dedicated to our success. I can remember one day when one of my classmates showed us how much fun it could be to break crayons using only one hand. We watched his demonstration carefully, then excitedly dug into Mrs. Turner’s big bucket of crayons and began practicing our new skill. When Mrs. Turner saw what we were doing, she had a talk with our little group about the importance of respecting others’ property, and how we should take care of things rather than ruin them. I still remember that lesson to this day. (I truly think we broke every crayon in the bucket.)

Of all my days at Mrs. Turner’s kindergarten, one in particular has always stood out in my mind. Mother dropped me off as usual that morning and I went into our little classroom. The lights were off, and there was no one to be seen. I went up and knocked on the door that led into Mrs. Turner’s home. She came to the door, and I could tell she was a little surprised to see me. She quickly apologized for not being in our classroom to greet me and started turning on lights. She explained that every single one of my classmates would be absent that day because it was “Orientation Day” for upcoming first graders at Morrilton Elementary. Because I lived out in the country, I would attend a different school that fall and was not involved in the special day. In other words, Mrs. Turner obviously thought she had a day off – until I showed up. As it turned out – it was a wonderful morning…because I had Mrs. Turner all to myself. I sat in her lap while she read to me. We colored a picture together. We sang songs, and I got to help her straighten up our classroom. I loved every single minute! When Mother came to pick me up at lunchtime and found out that I had been the only one there all morning, she was embarrassed and apologetic. Mrs. Turner quickly and calmly assured her that it was fine – there was no reason to apologize. Years later, I would have to agree – because it provided me with a pleasant memory I cherish to this day.

Mrs. Turner’s little private kindergarten was a wonderful way to begin my many years of schooling. She started me off well on my educational path, and I am forever grateful. I can honestly and wholeheartedly say I owe her a lot.

Before she began her home kindergarten, Mrs. Turner taught all grades (1-8) together in little one-room schools. In fact, she taught my mother and my aunt in a small community known as Lords Schoolhouse. Even though Mrs. Turner grew up only about 10 miles or so from that little neighborhood, she boarded with my grandparents while she taught school there. In rural Arkansas in those days, it was the school parents’ responsibility to house the teacher. Room and board were part of the compensation teachers received. Reba Turner moved in with my grandparents and stayed until the end of the school term. Just little girls, my Mother and Aunt Helen would walk with her to school each day. They lived almost a mile from the school, so when the weather was cold or rainy the walk was a challenge. My Pap-pa bought an older used car for Mrs. Turner to drive to school. Even though it was not a great car, and from what I have heard it was often hard to start – it was still appreciated. One morning, my grandparents left home early, leaving Mrs. Turner at home with their two little girls. When it came time to leave for school, the stubborn old car once again wouldn’t start. Mrs. Turner had an idea. She and her two little students pushed the car to the edge of the drive just before it sloped sharply down to the highway. She pumped the gas pedal a few times to get it primed, then Mother and Aunt Helen worked together to give it a push and started it rolling down the incline to the road. Using that momentum, Mrs. Turner got the car started and carefully braked so that her two waiting students could catch up, get in the car, and head to school. They worked together to solve the problem – and it makes me smile to picture it in my mind.

Through the years, I have often thought about what Mrs. Turner (and others) modeled for me regarding education. When I started out as an educator, I patterned my teaching after those I had learned from myself. From their examples, I firmly believe one of the most important things a teacher can do for their students (of any age) is work to build relationships from day one. Getting to know students and letting them know you care is a critical element to their academic success. Students, just like everyone else, need to connect with someone. When they view their teacher(s) as their partner(s) in learning, their attitudes, their self-esteem, and their chances for success improve drastically. I tried to always remember that during my years spent teaching in the classroom, because it’s a great practice. I know. I learned it in kindergarten.

Mrs. Reba Turner passed away this month at the age of 86. According to her obituary, her remarkable teaching career spanned 58 years. During that time she taught approximately 2200 students.

Thank you, Mrs. Turner. You made a difference in our lives. We, your students, are forever grateful.

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Hodgenville, Kentucky – Birthplace of President Lincoln

The history of people and places has been a passion of mine since I was a little girl in elementary school. I can remember going to the library as a third grader at Berryville Elementary and always heading straight to the shelf that held the biographies. In fact, I can still picture in my mind where that shelf was located. I couldn’t wait to get a new book each week. I read about amazing people like Amelia Earhart, Orville and Wilbur Wright, Babe Didrikson Zaharias, Daniel Boone, Davy Crockett, Clara Barton……and Abraham Lincoln. I’ve continued that love of biographies and history through the years. I think I get some of that interest from my parents. Daddy enjoyed visiting historic sites and learning the significance of people and places. Mother is a reader – and she enjoys learning of the contributions and relevance of others. Whatever the reasons, I really enjoy digging into history to explore and learn new things. I believe there is so much value in learning where we came from, knowing the challenges and accomplishments of those who went before us, and recognizing the impact of others on our world today.

One week ago today, while heading from Nashville to just outside Cincinnati, I turned off the highway to detour through Hodgenville, Kentucky. Only a few miles off I-65, Hodgenville has a population of just over 3,000 people. Each year, this little town in rural Kentucky gets around 250,000 visitors from all over the world…because it is the birthplace of a man of great and long-lasting impact on the world, President Abraham Lincoln. If you’re ever in that area, I highly recommend taking a detour to spend a couple of hours seeing all the little town has to offer. The address of the birthplace is 2995 Lincoln Farm Road – but don’t bother writing it down. If you can find Hodgenville, you can find the birthplace!

President Lincoln was born just outside Hodgenville in February of 1809 – twenty-seven years before the town was officially incorporated. “Sinking Springs Farm”, the President’s birthplace, is a United States National Historic Park. Even on a chilly Sunday in March, several people were there visiting the site. We couldn’t all speak the same language verbally, but we were affably united in our admiration of the 16th President of the United States as we moved around the grounds. I remember a story Clay Cooper, a Branson, MO entertainer, told on his show. He and his wife Tina visited the Lincoln Memorial in Washington several years ago, and Mr. Cooper talked about how he noticed all of the different languages being spoken by the people around him as they walked up to view the monument. It really emphasized for him the far-reaching influence of President Lincoln that so many people from so many backgrounds and countries chose to visit the Memorial and pay honor. It was the same for me last week in Kentucky.

The cabin where President Lincoln was born is long gone. A replica cabin was built in same spot where the original cabin sat. A large stone memorial building has been built around that cabin. It’s really impressive and beautiful to see on the hillside above the spring. President Theodore Roosevelt traveled to Kentucky to officially lay the cornerstone for this building on the 100th anniversary of President Lincoln’s birth in 1909. Two years later, in 1911, President Taft visited Hodgenville to give the dedication speech at the completed memorial. (The Lincoln Memorial in Washington D.C. didn’t open until 1922 making this the “First National Lincoln Memorial”.) Since then, President Franklin Roosevelt and President Eisenhower have also visited the site.

We started at the visitor center. There are beautiful displays showing information about Lincoln’s life, his family, inspirational quotes from the President, and examples of life during the early 1800’s.

A walnut table built by President Lincoln’s father, Thomas Lincoln, is on display. It was beautifully made!

The Lincoln family Bible was also in the visitor center. I thought that was a treasure!

Despite being cold, it was a beautiful day. There is a nice board sidewalk from the visitor center to the memorial. It was a pleasant walk through the woods. It’s going to be really beautiful there in a few weeks when everything buds out. They keep the grounds very well-tended!

The Memorial building and the Replica Cabin sit on top of a hill above the old Sinking Spring. I worked to get pictures without others in them – so it looks as if it was not busy that day. Actually, there were several people there milling about the grounds. Everyone was quiet, polite, and friendly. It was a very pleasant atmosphere.

After the birthplace, it is a less than a 10-minute drive to the Knob Hill farm where the Lincoln family lived from the time Abraham was 2½ until he was almost 8. In 1860, President Lincoln wrote, “My earliest recollection is of the Knob Hill place.”

During the summer, the National Park Service has crops and farm demonstrations available. This time of year, it’s just a pretty spot to see. Informational markers are located around the grounds to read and imagine what life must have been like. President Lincoln’s baby brother, Thomas, was born at the Knob Hill Farm. He died shortly after birth and was buried with a simple marker made by his father to denote the grave. That marker is now on display at the Birthplace Visitor Center and a new marker has been donated at the gravesite.

According to the informational markers, Abraham Lincoln once almost drowned in Knob Creek. He and his boyhood friend, Austin Gollaher, were crossing the creek on a log footbridge when Abraham slipped and fell. Neither boy could swim, and the water was deep. Thinking fast, Austin Gollaher quickly pushed a long stick out for Abraham to grab so that Austin could pull him to safety.

Driving back into Hodgenville, it was too late to go to the Lincoln museum. It closes early! There are two impressive statues of President Lincoln that sit in the center of the city square. The first shows the President as a little boy. I loved it that he is posed reading books!

The pose of the second statue reminded me of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington. Even though it is located on a city square with traffic, this may have been one of my favorite parts of the visit to Hodgenville. This statue was dedicated in 1909 and has stately sat on the Hodgenville square for 110 years. President Lincoln’s son, Robert, attended the dedication ceremony to honor his father.

Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address and his Second Inaugural Address are engraved on the city square. It was nice to stop and remember the courage and significance of this man, to reflect on his simple beginnings and his powerful impact on the world then and now. According to the information at the Birthplace Visitor Center, President Lincoln had less than three years of formal schooling in his lifetime. Even so, he served as a lawyer, a legislator, and one of the most remembered and respected Presidents of the United States. Most importantly, President Lincoln emancipated the slaves and preserved the Union during the U.S. Civil War. Only 56 years old at the time of his assassination, President Lincoln’s life is inspirational to many and his impact long-lasting and far-reaching.

I really enjoyed my afternoon in Hodgenville. It was a beautiful and relaxing place to spend some time. More than that, it was nice to stop and think about the great contributions of President Lincoln that are still affecting us today. There was an article online that I read after visiting the Knob Hill Farm. It was talking about the afternoon that Abraham Lincoln nearly drowned as a young boy – and speculating how things could be different today had President Lincoln never lived until adulthood. It made me wonder what potential lies in all of us to have a lasting effect on the world around us in a positive way.

More information:

Abraham Lincoln Birthplace National Historic Park: https://www.nps.gov/abli/index.htm


Abraham Lincoln biography at History.com: https://www.history.com/topics/us-presidents/abraham-lincoln


Gettysburg Address: http://rmc.library.cornell.edu/gettysburg/good_cause/transcript.htm


Second Inaugural Address: https://www.ourdocuments.gov/doc.php?flash=false&doc=38&page=transcript


Emancipation Proclamation: https://www.archives.gov/exhibits/featured-documents/emancipation-proclamation/transcript.html


Interesting article about Lincoln’s near drowning – https://www.newspapers.com/clip/3549859/abraham_lincoln_saved_from_drowning_by/

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My Pap-pa

Clifford Quinton “Joe” Clark
My Pap-Pa

When I was a little girl, it seemed like my Pap-pa was almost always working. From the stories I’ve heard all my life, it started when he was just a little boy…

His father, Ike, became sick, and eventually died young. I’ve never been certain what my great-grandfather’s illness was – but I do know that he suffered tremendously for many years. Pap-pa had to drop out of school to work the farm, care for his father, and support the family. He was young – but he was the oldest son. His sister Floy was four years older, but his brothers Woodrow and Dude were younger….so Pap-pa shouldered the responsibility. He grew up early.

He was only able to finish a third grade education at a little one-room school in rural Arkansas – but he had learned how to read and write, and thankfully he had a good mind for arithmetic. Those skills served him very well throughout his life.

I’m sure working the farm was hard enough, but Pap-pa had to carry even more responsibility. I heard stories as a child about how he alone was the one who cared for his father. From stories my grandmother would tell, it was gruesome work. Whatever the malady, Ike had dressings that had to be painfully changed and infections that had to be tended. His son, my Pap-pa, took care of it all. He was responsible for the family. I just can’t imagine.

He married my grandmother when he was only 17 and she was 14. They moved into a little house (more of a shed) behind his parents’ home. His father, almost completely disabled, required constant care – and Pap-pa continued to provide it. Working hard every day to support seven people would be grueling. Even more difficult, I think, was being responsible for so much at such a young age. In my entire life, I never once heard him complain about any of it. In fact, I don’t remember ever hearing him even talk about it. I heard the stories from others.

He got his first calf from a neighbor. He fed it, cared for it, and raised it to sell. That young calf became the first of many. Pap-pa found that he enjoyed tending cattle. He was good at it. For the rest of his life, Pap-pa earned a good living buying, tending, and trading cattle. He built and ran sale barns, he owned packing houses (a southerner’s term for a meat processing plant), and he raised cattle. When I spent time with him as a little girl, it was out in the pastures tagging along when he fed the cows, or hanging out at the sale barn he owned. He was happy to take me and my cousin Amy along when he tended his cattle. We would ride in the back of the truck (usually up on the sideboards) while he drove through the pastures to feed. It was fun – especially when he was out in the bottom land near the river. When he would drive over the levees, we would laugh and giggle – and hang on for dear life! Sometimes, Mother and I would ride with him to a sale. I loved the excitement of that! I would listen and try to understand what the auctioneer was saying……and sometimes Pap-pa might let me bid. It was big fun!

Those are good memories – but the best memories I have of Pap-pa are meals I have eaten at his table. You see, my Pap-pa also loved to cook. He mostly cooked at breakfast time – frying sausage, ham, and bacon. It was wonderful! He was very particular about the meat that he bought. He liked to get sausage from Atkins, Arkansas, because the recipe they used there to mix it is so very good. The ham had to be Petit Jean – because it is simply just the best there is. He bought slab bacon and hand sliced it himself with a sharp butcher knife. Since I grew up watching this, I never thought anything about it……until one day when I was in my 30’s I decided to try it. I bought a slab of bacon and nearly cut my fingers off trying to slice it. I finally admitted defeat – it was just too hard. Who knew???

The only recipe of Pap-pa’s I have today in my recipe box is his “Taco Dinner”. It’s really good! A couple of years ago, I made this recipe for guests at my home. My cousin Betty recognized it – and it thrilled me. She remembered an evening when she and her husband Billy ate supper at Pap-pa’s house many years ago – and he served his Taco Dinner. I love adding that memory to the files in my brain.

Pap-pa would have turned 101 last month. He left us in 1999.

Fairly often, I pull out his recipe and have his simple but delicious Taco Dinner for supper. Every time I prepare it, I think of Pap-pa……and I smile. In case you’re interested, I thought I would share the recipe with you. It’s a good one. I really hope you enjoy.

Click here for recipe