I suppose that I should be outside cutting the grass that has been waving at me ever since this cool spell, but on this Sunday afternoon; I have a better idea! So, here I am in front of this old computer again looking you in the eye and sipping coffee that tastes a wee bit like vinegar. Clean pot--clean pipes-short rinse-- whatever! I will be back.
Sunday is Mother's Day. A mother is a woman who can take the place of others, but whose place no one else can take. I miss mine.
Toward the end of the week ahead, I'll visit her grave next to the home place, in Restlawn. The lilacs are in full bloom now. A sprig of dogwood will add a special touch to her bouquet. Hopefully, the blooms will last until that time. If not, Mother loved dogwood and once told her little girl what the blooms represent. I will fill a container with more. My love for her I carry in my heart.
Last week Matthew and Lindsay Terry, Brownsburg celebrated their seventh wedding anniversary. Lindsay is my eldest granddaughter. I wish them much more happiness.
Today Lindsay attended a beautiful bridal luncheon, given in honor of her forever friend, Heather McCullough. The gathering was held at the Chateau Thomas Winery in Plainfield.
Heather McCullough and Bryan Walborn will be married in Indianapolis May 31.
The bride-to-be is the daughter of Mike and Joyce McCullough, Brazil and Jerri and Bruce Gooding, Brownsburg. Her grandparents are the late Richard (Dick) and Mary McCullough, Brazil.
Those present at the luncheon from the Brazil area were, Heather's aunt, Theresa McCullough, Gail Sims, Paula Whitted and Mary McCullough.
Paul and I have been enjoying healthy helpings of morels this season. Now, as the vegetation thickens, I am almost ready to pitch the stick. Besides, there is more garden to plant. The long slender stalks of rhubarb, yet to be harvested, have my jarred jaws juicing and begging for pie. There is much to do. I think I will sit here for awhile and rest my tired brittle bones. This chair fits my mood.
This week, one of my phone callers asked me a couple of questions that I could not answer. She was seeking the name of a dance band that was popular and known to play locally, often at a church hall, in the late 50's and early 60's. What were the name of the dance event at the church and the popular dances of the day? Sock Hop was ruled out.
I married in November of 1957 and moved out of state during that time period. When I came home, in 1960, my dancing shoes were long lost in the shuffle. I danced around barefoot, with Starla cradled in arms to the slow soothing rhythm and sound of many lullabies. I did the same for Starla's brother, Paul, and sister, Lori. One doesn't have to be a good singer or a dancer to please a baby. Being there matters most.
Did I ever tell you that I once danced with the great country singer, Ferlin Husky, at the Bostonian Ballroom, in El Cahon, California, at his request?
A tipsy and rude woman wearing western finery with three buttons missing below the collar and a hemline ahead of its time spouted in a crude delivery, " Ferlin must be drunk to have picked that little blond to dance with."
Even though the entertainers singing performance was superb, I think he had been nipping at the sauce more than lightly that warm spring night, but the squeaky clean dance floor was ours, the crowd responded and I had the approval of my little sailor. I left my coke behind and the rest is history.
I haven't danced since. Will I again? I shall never ever say, never! Will anyone ask? I doubt it!
Well folks, the old clock on the wall tells me it is almost time for the Sears guy to hang it up so must I.
I send my condolence to the family of Ruth Kidwell.
I can be reached at 446-4852 or drop me a line to 613 North Elm St., 47834 or by email at firstname.lastname@example.org.