Tag: Family

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Connections are Special

Being surrounded by family was normal for me when I was a little girl growing up in Conway County. The roots of all sides of my family are deep there, and I was blessed to grow up being loved by so many. I was only 8 years old (almost 9) when Mother and Daddy decided to move to Carroll County, and I remember what it felt like for the first time in my life to go to school, to church, to the grocery store, even to the park and not run into family or familiar friends. We were the only Carlons in Carroll County, and it felt unfamiliar and strange to have no connections. It seemed to me that my classmates knew everyone – that they had those local roots and connections that I was used to…. I wasn’t sad – it just felt….different, like something was missing.

When I started junior high, the halls on the high school wing of the building were lined with pictures of all the classes to ever graduate from Green Forest. Those pictures dated back to the late 1800’s. In addition, the sidewalks we walked on going to the cafeteria every day had the names of each of the classes recorded in the concrete. It all fascinated me – and I loved reading them – seeing the names of so many of my classmates’ siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, parents, and grandparents – I loved history and family and connections even then!

I remember how excited I was when I learned that my Great-Uncle Ira and Great-Aunt Oretha had lived in Green Forest at one time. I remember when Daddy told me – I was eager to find out where their house stood and when they had lived here. I was full of questions – wondering why I hadn’t been told this before! I was very excited to find out that their oldest daughter Sarah, my first cousin once removed, had graduated from Green Forest High School. It may sound silly, but it was almost comforting to know that I had a connection too. I remember eagerly searching for her name as I walked the sidewalks. Knowing that both she and I graduated from the same high school – the only members of our family to do so – has always made me feel a kindred connection to her.

Discovering connections and learning the stories of my family’s roots and the journey from long ago to today is important and enjoyable to me. I’ve been having such fun with my ancestry research….

A few weeks ago, I posted a story about my 6th great-grandfather, U.S. Brigadier General Levi Garrett Casey, a decorated hero of the Revolutionary War. My link to him runs through my great-grandmother, Maggie Beeson – and I have found his stories fascinating.

While researching great-grandfather Casey and his family – I found some information about his brother, Jesse, that revealed another interesting connection. Jesse was born in Maryland and later moved with his family to South Carolina. He had five sons, one named Aaron. Along with his father, his uncles, and his grandfather, Aaron fought in the Revolutionary War, serving under Colonel Benjamin Roebuck.

One of Aaron’s sons, Abner (named for his great-grandfather), married and in 1834 moved his family to Arkansas, settling on the Buffalo Fork of the White River in what is now Newton County. I was surprised to discover that his homestead was located 40 or 50 miles from the house I live in now. (I think that’s so cool!)

According to information found in the Springfield (MO) Greene County Library, Abner, a millwright, built one of the first water mills in the area. He also built one of the first Baptist church buildings. He and his wife Elizabeth lived the remainder of their lives on their Newton County farm and are buried near Parthenon.

Here’s where I think the story gets really interesting!

Abner and his wife Elizabeth had four sons. One was named Levi (presumably after his great great uncle). After living in Arkansas for several years, Levi moved his family to Taney County, Missouri and settled on a land grant on Swan Creek near present-day Forsyth. He cleared the land and built a cabin, living there many years for the remainder of his life. The cabin was loved and stayed in the family for many years….until the late 1940’s when Bull Shoals Dam was being built. The construction of the dam meant the property would need to be sold, so Levi’s great-granddaughter, Opal McHaffie Parnell, sold the land with the stipulation that she could relocate and keep the treasured family home.

Years later, the beloved relocated cabin is still standing – in fact I visited it recently….as I have done many, many times through the years – never knowing of the family connection. The beautiful old dog-trot cabin, built by Levi Casey (my 3rd cousin 4X removed), is the McHaffie Homestead located on the grounds of the Silver Dollar City theme park.

Ironically, it’s one of my favorite places to visit at the park! Through the years, I have sat on the porch of the old dog-trot cabin many times listening to the City’s storyteller – Judy Dockery Young, watching depictions and demonstrations of pioneer life, or enjoying the beautiful music of the “Homestead Pickers” band.

Now, each visit is going to be a little bit more fun.

Connections are special.

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The Story of Margrette

A little grave marker, nestled among the familiar names of my relatives, was how I first met Margrette Ruth Blasingame. It was an unexpected discovery in the quiet, peaceful grounds of Old Hickory Cemetery, a place where my family’s history is literally carved in stone. In 2021, my Mother and I made several trips to the cemetery – working on a project we had undertaken to clean and restore family gravestones. Many of the old headstones were darkened and overgrown with lichens, making them difficult to read…..but one little stone in the family plot was virtually unreadable. I remember tracing the stone with my finger trying to determine what it said….and failing. We completed the first treatment, then waited, returned, and completed the second……then repeated the process again.

Finally, the darkened stone was clean, and the rough surface of the old gravestone bore a name, with the brief dates of a life etched beneath:

Margrette Ruth Blasingame
Born July 21, 1926
Died March 27, 1929.

She was my first cousin, once removed – the second child of my Great-Aunt Zilby and her husband J.H. Blasingame…

I remember my Aunt Zilby —she taught me how to play Yahtzee when I visited her on a trip with my parents to California when I was six years old. She also gave me a beautiful blue glass vase – an unusual gift for a small child – but one that I have kept and treasured through the years because it came from her. It sits proudly in my guest room today.

Aunt Zilby married J.H. Blasingame in 1923 when she was just 16. Their first son was born the next year. Two years later, another baby was born – a daughter named Margrette Ruth. Two more years – and another son was born to the little family. Shortly after his birth, they left Hattieville and moved to the Little Rock area. Daddy used to tell me of a general mercantile store, possibly much like the one Aunt Zilby’s father (my great-grandfather) operated in Hattieville. The store they ran was located on Highway 10 – a country road outside of Little Rock that carried travelers to and from the capital city. Over the decades, the growing city has swallowed much of that countryside…and the location of the long-gone little store is now part of the busy city on Cantrell Road.

For the past few years, that little gravestone was all I had—a stark, poignant reminder of a life cut short at only 2 years, 8 months, and 6 days of age. I often wondered what kind of sudden tragedy had stolen a child so young, and I thought about how devastating it must have been for Aunt Zilby and J.H. to bear.

Some pieces of the puzzle were finally uncovered when I found Margrette Ruth’s death certificate on Ancestry.com. What I found was not the record of a sudden, instant loss, but of a drawn-out, painful struggle. Her small life didn’t succumb to an accident, but to an illness—one that was relentless and, in those times, unbeatable. Margrette Ruth did not die at home; she passed away at Little Rock’s General Hospital. The certificate shows that a physician attended to her illness from March 7, 1929, until her death on the 27th.

The official cause of death was listed as “pyemia.”

The word was new to me – I had to look it up. Pyemia is a severe form of blood poisoning, a widespread systemic infection—a type of sepsis—that spreads through the bloodstream, leading to abscesses and multiple organ failure.

In the year 1929, it was typically a death sentence.

As a great-niece looking back though the decades, I can only imagine the helplessness – the panic – the family must have felt. They endured three weeks of watching their child fight a relentless, unseen enemy in a hospital room, hoping against hope that the doctors could turn the tide. But in 1929, no effective treatment existed.

The reason is simple: the age of antibiotics, something we take for granted, had not yet dawned. Pyemia, contracted likely from a simple injury or untreated infection, was a death sentence. Hospitals were full of people—children and adults alike—dying from infections that today are routinely treatable.

The life-saving drug, penicillin, and the resulting antibiotic age were still more than a decade away. Before this discovery, a simple cut or scratch or common illness could lead to a deadly infection, filling hospitals with people suffering from maladies for which doctors could offer little hope. Pneumonia, rheumatic fever, and yes, pyemia, were often insurmountable foes. It wasn’t until mass production efforts began in the United States in the 1940s that penicillin and later other antibiotics became the widely available healing medicines we know today.

As I think about little Margrette Ruth suffering for weeks in a hospital, her young parents watching helplessly—I am struck by a profound and painful realization: had she been born just fifteen or twenty years later, a simple course of medicine could have saved her life. The medications that we now use routinely were then only a future reality that arrived tragically too late for my great aunt and uncle’s little girl.

My study into Margrette Ruth’s short life turned out to be a poignant lesson in medical history. It made the familiar comfort of a doctor’s visit, a course of medication, or a simple preventative measure feel like an incredible, life-saving blessing. We truly are blessed by the advances of modern medicine, as well as the scientists and researchers who are constantly working to develop new treatments and improve our health care. I carry with me a deep gratitude for the countless lives that are now saved—lives that, in Margrette Ruth Blasingame’s time, would have been lost.

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The Stories I Wish I Knew

old books

I’ve been researching my ancestry for the past several months and I have so enjoyed all of the family members I am “meeting” and all of their stories I am discovering. I’m so grateful to the people and organizations who have recorded history – whether it be census data, official records, written family accounts, cemetery information, and so on. They help to piece together the stories of the people that came before – the people who worked and sacrificed and tried and failed and tried again and created…..blazing trails for all the rest of us. I’ve said it many times, we stand on the shoulders of those who came before us…the people who pioneered the land, developed communities, organized our systems and structures, built the roads….those who invented, created, established, loved, learned, and grew….

I’ve posted about some of my relatives recently….but so far none have had a name so interesting, so unique, as that of my great-great grandmother……but I’ll get to that in a minute… 🙂 When I was a child attending first grade at Wonderview Public Schools, I rode the bus roughly 9 miles from Hattieville to Wonderview every morning….and 9 miles back every afternoon. Those familiar with this area will easily know that the school bus passed through the community of St. Vincent, Arkansas on the way. It’s interesting to me that I have ridden (and later driven) Arkansas highway 95 so many times through the years – and didn’t know that some of my ancestors were buried in a tiny family cemetery neatly fenced off in the middle of a little pasture beside the highway. The little cemetery has only five graves….my great-great grandfather, Thomas Jefferson McReynolds (a pretty interesting name in it’s own right, don’t you think?), my great-great grandmother (the one with the fun, interesting name), and three others.

Okay – back to the name! I hope you like it as well as I do. My great-great grandmother’s birth name is Tennessee Turnbow. Say that one out loud! C’mon – it’s fun! 🙂

According to some of the records, her family called her “Tennie”. So, as an adult her married name was Tennie McReynolds…. I like it – it’s also got a pretty nice ring to it – but I have to admit I like Tennessee Turnbow even better!

Though I’ve tried hard to learn about her, information is very limited. Diligent searches over time have put together the following very short biography:

“When Tennessee “Tennie” Turnbow was born on April 24, 1850, in Maury County, Tennessee, her father, John, was 41, and her mother, Cathryn, was 35. The entire family moved to Pope County, Arkansas when she was a young child and she grew up there. She married Thomas Jefferson McReynolds on December 22, 1869 and they set up their first home in Dover. Later they moved to Conway County, Arkansas. They had five children during their marriage. Tennessee died as a young mother on September 10, 1880, in Hattieville, Arkansas, at the age of 30. When she passed away, her children were ages 8, 7, 6, 4, and 1½. How hard this must have been. She was buried in St. Vincent, Arkansas – the first grave in the McReynolds Cemetery.”

Five years after her death, my great-great grandfather remarried a lady named Isabelle Templeton and soon more children joined the family.

The information leaves me curious – I can think of so many questions. Without Tennessee Turnbow, I would not be here. In fact, the first time I saw a young picture of her daughter – my great-grandmother Sarah Florence – I was surprised to see how much I look like her. I like that.

But…I know so little about my 2nd great-grandmother…. What was she like? What were her hopes and dreams? What color were her eyes? Her hair? Did she have a nice smile? Did she have a favorite recipe or recipes? Did she like to sing? Was she artistic? Was she practical and quiet? Was she fun loving? What caused her death at such a young age? Was the land she is buried on the family farm? How did my great-great grandfather manage alone for several years with five little children?

The stories I wish I knew make me thoughtful….

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The Privilege of Prayer

Southern Sideboards cover

I said a little prayer for Mrs. Hunter Gates and her family this week. I guess that’s a little strange because I’ve never met Mrs. Gates, never spoken with her, and in truth I know almost nothing about her. In fact, I am not even certain that she is still living…

Okay, let me back up a bit…

I really enjoy cooking, and I like trying new recipes. It’s popular today to find recipes through internet searches – and I know that can provide a real convenience … .but for me, I much prefer tried and true recipes when I can….recipes that are shared from people – family, friends, or even strangers. Recipes that are handed down through generations – that have traveled with families as they moved about, that have been saved carefully because they are important. The connections these recipes provide make preparing and enjoying meals all the more significant and special. For example – baking a Mexican Chicken casserole using my Mam-ma’s recipe adds a whole new dimension to the cooking experience….connecting me to her, to all the times she baked and served and enjoyed that same casserole to dear family and friends…connecting me to wonderful, loving memories. I can close my eyes and be transported in my mind to her kitchen – smelling the wonderful smells and feeling the love that she shared.

Mexican Chicken Casserole

Preparing my “Creamy Tacos” recipe given to me by my mentor teacher, Marti Hancock, early in my teaching career connects me to her…..and to my teaching team at Branson Cedar Ridge….and to all the wonderful memories of my students during those years when I was learning the craft of my profession.

Creamy tacos

When I make baked eggs for breakfast, a unique and delicious recipe from my cousin Nicki Jean, I am reminded of all the Beeson quail breakfasts on Christmas mornings in Hattieville through the years – the first place I ever tried baked eggs…and it makes me smile and be thankful for those wonderful times.

baked eggs

When I travel, I often search for a local cookbook to bring home as a memento of the place I have visited. Each region of the country has such unique food preferences, cooking styles, and culture. I especially like church cookbooks or junior league cookbooks….because the recipes in these are carefully selected by folks who have taken great pride in preparing unique and delicious dishes for family and friends. The recipes they have chosen to be printed are some that they consider their best….and they are sharing them to bring joy to others.

When I visited Biloxi and Jackson, Mississippi many years ago (2008) for a t-ball tournament my nephew played in, I purchased a cookbook called “Southern Sideboards” which was organized and sold by the Junior League of Jackson, Mississippi. On page one, it states that it features “tested recipes”….and boy, they weren’t kidding. First published in 1978, the cookbook was in its 17th printing and was listed as a “Southern Living Hall of Fame” winner when I purchased it. Of all my cookbooks, it has become one of my very favorites through the years, because it’s so reliable! Every recipe I have prepared from this book has been so good.

Southern Sideboards Cookbook

This week, I tried a new one – “Wild Rice Quiche” by Mrs. Hunter Gates. I was looking for a new quiche recipe – and this one caught my eye because it was so unique…..and because I love wild rice. It was very easy to prepare, and it turned out to be delicious. I will make it again! (That’s the mark of a good recipe for me – will I make it again? If the answer is yes, that means it’s a winner!)

Okay….forgive me….back to the beginning. Whenever my sweet Mother prepared a recipe given to her by a friend or family member, she tried to always say a simple prayer for that person….and she taught me to do the same.

A great cook herself – Mother would often be asked for her recipes – and she would gladly share them. Many years ago, she began including a handwritten note at the end of each one.

“Please say a prayer for me when you make this recipe.”

It was a simple request – but such a very powerful one. Can I be honest? When I was younger, I was a little embarrassed when Mother started writing the little phrase on her recipe cards. I worried (too much!) about what people would think of it….thinking perhaps they would think it silly or inappropriate…

I’ve grown up – and I do not feel embarrassed of it anymore. Instead, I am very proud – and very grateful for her example and the lessons she taught me!

Please say a prayer for me...

In today’s world, social communication platforms, busy schedules, changing social norms, and even the media seem (in my opinion) sometimes bent on dividing us – on breaking down connections and in some ways even encouraging isolation.

Isn’t it much better when we enjoy, support, respect, and care about one another? More importantly, isn’t it a powerful and wonderful privilege and responsibility to pray for one another?

Many of us say a blessing over our meals, we pray for family and friends….and a lot of us say a prayer for strangers when we see an ambulance or emergency vehicle pass by. How fitting that we can also say a quick prayer for others when a trigger brings them to our mind….a trigger such as a recipe they have shared with us. I think it is actually a pretty great idea!

James 5:16

“Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working”

Ephesians 6:18

18 And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people.

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Broken Bits

My Pap-pa was born in the little community of Rex, Arkansas…..a place I had never heard of until after his passing. We never really talked about where he was born…in fact, throughout his life he wasn’t even completely certain what year he was born…..but that’s another pretty good story for another time! 🙂

My Mother, always the explorer, decided that we needed to find out more about her daddy’s birthplace….so on a warm summer day about 24 years ago, we did just that.

After a little research, Mother and I drove up a dirt road in Van Buren County to the small mountain community of Rex. I was feeling doubtful that we would be able to locate any information about Pap-pa’s birthplace since over 80 years had passed….but goodness! I should have known better. First, I feel very confident that Mother had already prayed for success that day….and the Lord listens. Second, when Mother was determined she was determined…and so we drove along until we passed a house with some folks out in the yard. Pulling over – Mother got out, introduced herself, and talked with them a bit. The gentleman gave her directions to an older couple’s home just down the road a ways who had lived in the area all their lives, saying they would possibly have the answers Mother was looking for……

So……onward we went…pulling up in the couple’s driveway just after lunchtime… They were such sweet people (somewhere in their 90’s), and listened carefully as Mother explained why we were there. They were eager and happy to help in any way they could. I’m embarrassed to admit that I don’t remember their names. I so wish I did. For the purpose of this story, I will call them Mr. and Mrs. Smith.

Mr. Smith assured us he knew exactly where my great-grandparents’ house once stood – the house where my Pap-pa was born. He remembered it well from his childhood. In fact, he told us, he could also take us to the homeplace of my great-great grandparents as well. Mother and I were grateful – and excited to see both places.

I thought this meant we would drive, but that was definitely not the case…. Starting out by crawling under a barbed wire fence, we walked quite a ways through several cow pastures, crawling under a few more fences before we came to an obvious rock foundation of an old home…..sitting quietly and alone – far removed from roads or towns. A few burned boards, almost completely rotted away, were all that was left of the structure itself. Mr. Smith assured us that this was the place, telling us that Ike and Sarah (I was surprised and impressed that he knew and remembered the names of my great-grandparents) had built the home and lived there when they started their family. However, after their first son, Woodrow and later their second, my Pap-pa (Clifford) were born, the house burned, causing them to move down off the mountain never to return. The abandoned remains of the house had been left to the elements and the animals for over 8 decades.

As I walked around inside the old foundation of the little house, I found some small broken bits of china and stoneware – remnants of dishes and bowls belonging to a great grandmother I do not remember. I gathered as many as I could find and put them in my pocket, taking them back through the pastures with me – this time traveling a longer, different route to visit the site of my great-great grandparents’ home place as well. It was so interesting and such fun.

When we finally returned to Mother’s van, I wrapped the little pieces up in an old, crumpled paper towel Mother had in the car…..later placing the little bundle in a bottom dresser drawer when I got home….and that’s where they stayed for another 2+ decades.

broken bits

One autumn a few years ago, while attending a Laura Ingalls Wilder celebration dinner in Mansfield, MO – a benefit auction item caught my attention. One of Mrs. Wilder’s plates had shattered, and the museum staff had taken the broken pieces to a jeweler in Springfield, MO who had turned them into beautiful jewelry pieces. I quickly thought of the broken pieces of my great-grandmother’s dishes I had saved all these years….and decided to see what could be done with them.

The next spring, on my Mother’s 78th birthday, I took a day off from work to spend it with her. We went out to eat, shopping, and sightseeing…..and to Gerzens’ Jewelry in Springfield, Missouri. John Gerzen, the jeweler, and Mother worked together to pick the pieces she liked and then tried different patterns for putting them together. They narrowed the possible choices down to 2 or 3….and we left to give her time to think about it.

Unfortunately, the necklace was soon forgotten. Mother began her fight with cancer and other plans drifted to the background…

The broken bits, still in that same ancient paper towel, went back to the dresser drawer….until this year. Several weeks ago, I took them back to Gerzen’s Jewelry in Springfield, MO and finally the now over 100 year old pieces were made into a necklace….

I was so excited when I got the call that the necklace was finished. I couldn’t wait to see the finished piece…..and I was so pleased with Mr. Gerzen’s work. To me, it’s so unique and so pretty.

The best part though, is that when I wear it (as I did today), I think of my Mother….and my Pap-pa, and my great-grandmother Sarah….

I am so very happy to have it.

https://www.gerzensjewelry.com/

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The Blessings of a Godly Mother

I’ve heard the story of my birth for as long as I can remember…not that it was all that remarkable or out of the ordinary…it was just that my Mother liked telling the story and I loved hearing it. I was expected to make my appearance toward the end of April, 1967. On the afternoon of Friday March 31st, Mother drove to town for a checkup at the doctor’s office, a hair appointment at the beauty shop, and a few other errands. However, when Dr. Magie examined her, he said she needed to head on over to the hospital immediately because she was about to have her baby. Mother laughed, thinking he was joking. After all, I wasn’t expected for 3 more weeks – she had felt no labor pains – he was scheduled to go out of town for a short hunting trip (planned so he could be back for my birth), and she was headed to the beauty shop! She truly believed he was kidding with her. In fact, she told him she had a hair appointment and asked if it would be all right if she got her hair fixed and then head to the hospital. He assured her she needed to go straight there – so she called Daddy and Mam-ma to come join her, then settled in nervously and excitedly to wait. Dr. Magie was right – I was born just after 4:00 am the next morning, an April Fool’s baby who fooled her family by arriving a few weeks early.

As a little girl, I always smiled a big smile when Mother told me this story. I loved thinking I had played a clever trick on my family with my surprise arrival.

The hospital where I was born closed shortly after my birth when a new hospital was built across town. The beautiful old building sat up on a hill empty and abandoned for years. One day when I was around 8 years old, Mother drove me up that hill and around to the back of the deserted building. She said she wanted to show me something. We got out of the car and had walked only a few steps when Mother pointed up to the unique round balcony on the 3rd floor. “I walked out on that balcony the night before you were born and stood for the longest time praying over your life”, Mother said. “I just wanted you to know that – that I prayed earnestly for you before you were even here.”

Photo credit: Betty Patterson (Thank you, Betty.)

Even as a child, I was humbled by what she said – it seemed like such an important thing to me that day….and it still does. Every time I remember her words, I feel so honored, so blessed by her gift.

I just did the math – I have been on this earth a total of 20,290 days since my April 1 birth all those years ago – and I feel absolutely and 100% completely confident that my Mother has prayed for me on every single one of those days. What an amazing blessing!!!

So, my precious mother prayed for me before I was born and every day since then. I have never lived one single day on this earth without being covered by her prayers. Not one single day. What a difference, what an impact this has had on my life.

It made me thoughtful recently, thinking how I would miss those prayers someday when she is no longer with me…..

…but several weeks ago, Mother was talking to me and thanking me for helping her with some things. “I pray about your future”, she said, “and I’ve prayed that when you get older and perhaps need help, that there will be someone there to help you like you’ve helped me.”

She has prayed for my future! Those thousands of prayers have included specific, thoughtful petitions regarding challenges we all face in this life.

I firmly believe our wonderful, loving Heavenly Father hears our prayers – and I am so grateful that He does. I also couldn’t be more humbled or thankful for the prayers of a Godly mother, devotedly approaching the King of Kings on my behalf.

Thank you, Mother. I love you so very much. I am forever grateful.

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Teaching by Example

autumn leaf

I saw a 1000 different pictures on my drive to work today…. Okay, to be realistic, maybe it wasn’t actually 1000….but it really was close! I like to leave early in the morning so that I can stop and take pictures on my drive, but I was running behind and didn’t allow as much time today…..and of course – the morning was just spectacular. The grasses are still green in the Ozarks and there was a foggy mist rising up from the ground. It was just beautiful. Often when the mists are rising, the skies are a foggy gray, but that wasn’t the case this morning. They were brilliantly blue overhead with just a hint of peach and pink on the horizon. The clouds were fluffy and white, and edged in gold as the sun came up behind them. There were hints of autumn color showing here and there. I wanted so badly to stop, set up, and take some shots….but there was no time, so I just drove along happily enjoying the beautiful views.

I was taught from an early age to watch for beauty – to notice it and celebrate it. My mother always enthusiastically does just that – noticing every detail and appreciating the beautiful blessings of God’s nature. She has set a wonderful example.

A few weeks ago, I wanted to get a picture of autumn leaves beginning to turn so I went out for a drive and invited her along. The colors really weren’t easy to find, and I was about to give up for the evening. Mother, always trying to help, mentioned that she had noticed a pretty little tree with some nice color in a parking lot near the pharmacy. She had ridden there earlier in the day to pick up a prescription – and noticed the tree as she passed by. I drove across town, and there it was. She was right – and I happily took a few shots. Success! I was so impressed that she noticed it – just a little tree in the middle of a concrete parking lot she had ridden by during a busy day. I’m thankful that she has taught me by example to watch for the beauty and blessings, but I am even more grateful that she has taught me to share it.

About a week ago, she and I were walking together down the sidewalk in my neighborhood. The leaves were showing some color and there were a few pretty red ones on the ground. Mother was delighted – and each time we passed one that was lying face down, she carefully stooped down, picked it up, and turned it over. “There”, she would say, “now everyone walking by can see how pretty it is and hopefully enjoy it too.”

It may seem like a small thing – just turning over a leaf – but it’s really not. Mother’s back bothers her some – so her actions were not without challenge or pain – but it was worth it to her….even though she will probably never know who appreciated or enjoyed her efforts.

I’m so thankful for her examples and what she teaches me. Finding beauty and sharing it with others makes my days better. It brings me joy – and I hope brings joy to others as well.

Thank you, Mother.

autumn leaf
Autumn leaf – ready for someone to see and enjoy

Want to see more pictures?
Please visit my website at www.lisacarlonphotography.com

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Decoration Days – Honoring Our Roots

In the American South, springtime means jonquils, hyacinths, lilacs, and roses; baby birds hatching, frogs croaking on the ponds, gardens being planted, Easter Sunrise Services, and Decoration Days at community cemeteries. Decoration Days have always been a part of my life. As a little girl, I would go to the cemetery with my Daddy the day before a Decoration Day. He would rake and clean the graves and then carry in soil to shovel and build them up. When he finished, each one would be raked free of grass, mounded up with fresh dirt, and carefully smoothed. Gravestones would be washed and gleaming and bright flower arrangements would be placed to adorn the headstones or the grave itself. It was hot work, but there were always others present carefully tending the graves of their own families, so it was a bit of a community social event as everyone worked to prepare the cemetery. It always looked so pretty when we left – everything mowed, and raked, and clean, and beautiful with flowers of all colors and shapes.

The next day (always a Sunday), we would go back after church, this time dressed up in our Sunday best. There was always a crowd – old friends, family members, and schoolmates my parents hadn’t seen since the last Decoration Day the year before. People traveled home from other towns and even other states. Everyone would walk around and look at the different graves, remembering those who were buried there and telling stories about the old days. Children would play (quietly – and outside the cemetery fence because it wasn’t respectful to run and play around the graves) and adults would eventually gather under the trees where the shade helped cool things down a bit. They would continue to talk and reminisce – and I always loved to listen to the stories they told and people they remembered.

There would be a short “Decoration Day” church service at 2:00. Some of the people gathered would go inside to attend and others would stay outdoors laughing and telling stories. I always heard that “back in the day” (before my time) there would be a potluck – a “dinner on the ground” where everyone brought food to share and picnic together. I’m sure people who were not raised with this tradition could think it strange to hold an annual community/family reunion in a cemetery – but to me it is a perfectly natural thing to do. After all, I was raised with it – and I think it’s a lovely tradition that celebrates our heritage….our roots.

I say often that we all stand on the shoulders of the people who came before us – and I mean that sincerely. Without the hard work and innovations of others from years past, we would not have our many modern conveniences and practices. Without them, we would not be able to live the lives we are living or accomplish the things that we do. Because of that, I love the days when I am able to pause, take some time, and look back at those who came before, learn from the memories and stories of others, and honor family members and friends who have left us.

The old tradition still continues. Today I traveled south with my mother to attend the Decoration Day at the cemetery where my Daddy is buried. Unlike those days in the past, we did not arrive a day early to clean and prepare the grave. The tradition of bringing in dirt to “mound up” the graves is gone. (It makes it so much harder for caretakers to mow that way.) Instead, we went out early this morning to clean and decorate the grave, then left to freshen up, have lunch, and return to visit with old friends and family. I still look forward to it every year. There are still so many stories to hear and so many wonderful memories to revisit.

I walked around the cemetery this afternoon admiring the flower arrangements and studying the names on the headstones. The ground was soft and uneven making walking slightly difficult, and the weather was hot and humid. Even more important, you have to carefully watch where you step to avoid the numerous small, almost hidden mounds of fire ants. Still, it’s pleasant to take time to pay respect and remember. Every year, I think about counting how many family members I have buried in that old cemetery. I always start this task and somehow never seem to finish. Today I counted 46 relatives and many more old neighbors or friends. I didn’t cover the entire cemetery so there are undoubtedly several I missed. Perhaps next year! I am who I am partly because of these people (even the ancestors I have never met), and I am grateful that I can take the time to honor them.

As I said earlier, Decoration Days may seem silly or strange to some, and I can understand that……but I am so thankful for this connection to my roots. This wonderful tradition links me to my past, strengthens bonds of family and friends here today, and impacts the future because of the firm foundations it provides.

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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