The Other Shoe

This pic is an addendum to the post. Marilyn snapped it without flash during the snow storm. The light was from the porch light. The near blizzard conditions never materialized. It was actually just normal Nebraska weather for the second month of the year.

We're waiting for the other shoe to drop. About a week ago the National Weather Service began forecasting a near death experience storm to pass through the area. Today it arrives and like most winter storms, it's going to depend on where you live. The two feet they began forecasting for this area has dwindled steadily down to what is now 8" for later today. I do know there is a major event south of here with the two feet and an inch of ice. It makes our forcast look pretty tame.
Todays agenda includes plugging in the engine heaters on the snow blower tractor and the emergency farm generator tractor, putting the semi tractor-trailer inside and unload the srap lumber in my pickup into the burn pit. I must attend a 9 AM meeting at the courthouse and then we'll count our blessings.

Why I Prefer The Embassy Inn and Suites

On January 12^th, we passed the 125th anniversary of the Blizzard of 1888. I’ve read varying accounts of the storm and about the devastation it caused and about the horrible tragedies, death and heartache. It hit on a day that started out calm and unseasonably warm and struck with hurricane force winds that continued on for days. The temperatures dropped from near 30F to in some cases, -40 degrees below zero and it deposited nearly 4 feet of snow in the time span of just a few hours. The winds were so strong it blew the roof off of barns and school houses and left many trapped or pinned down right where they were when the winds hit.  Some school teachers were considered heroes because after losing the roof to the building, they led their students to the safety of a neighboring farmhouse.

Of the 235 people who lost their lives in the storm, most were school children. Other folks died within a few feet of their home, unable to find their way in the blinding snow and unable to hear loved ones banging on pans from the porch. It’s worth taking the time to find and read the accounts of that storm. It points out the fact that when Mother Nature throws her best punch, we lose.

I recall a storm we witnessed firsthand. In the late 1970’s we put afloat with several families and boats from near our place on the Missouri River in route to near Ponca Nebraska. We were going to caravan (or would that be (boatavan) up stream to camp, fish, and basically carry on with family activities on the banks of the wide Missouri for 2 glorious fun packed days and nights.

Our armada was beached all in a neat row that Friday night, in what turned out to be a sandy beach/picnic area/cow pasture. The cow herd left us kindling for the fire but none ready to use on that trip.

We pitched our tents and the volleyball net. I picked the beautiful spot for our tent that we were sharing with friends.

We ate supper and the sky turned nasty looking. It was bedtime soon after that and we all bedded down in our tents because it was beginning to rain and it put the fire out. It began to rain very hard. The winds came up and the lightning was ferocious. The river where we were camped wasn’t too wide. I would guess it to have been maybe 200 yards wide and there were several strikes within a quarter mile of us over the next two hours. At about midnight my friend on the other side of our big tent said, “Cliff, push down on the floor of the tent.” I did and it felt like a water bed. I had to push down about 7 or 8 inches before I could feel the ground. We were in trouble. We and our wives were in more trouble than the others. My choice spot was actually in a depression caused by rain water running to the river. We bailed out of our tent and everyone headed to try to save their boats that were all sinking from the rain water. Five gallon and minnow buckets were pressed into frantic service. All of this scooping action went on as the lightning intensified. When the rain finally quit, some of the runabouts had their tops and storm covers put up and the kids and an adult were moved from the soaked tents to the interior of the wet boats. Most of us spent the rest of the night huddled around a fire trying to dry our clothes. It didn’t work. Dawn finally broke after what seemed to be an eternity and we began loading 50 pound sleeping bags into the boats, along with even heavier tents, coolers and unused food and we said good bye to our glorious weekend retreat. We’d all been up 24 hours to that point and we had to navigate muddy, turbulent water to try and get home. The two hour trip home took nearly 5 hours. We had to steer clear of picnic tables, large cottonwoods trees, old sows, steers, footballs, and 55 gallon drums all churning in what appeared to be chocolate milk.

We got home to read that the storm that night dumped over 7 inches of rain near Ponca in a two hour period. We could attest to that.

Lessons learned that night were many. One neighbor sold his tent and vowed never to sleep on the ground again; and he didn’t. I vowed to pick spots for my tent that were a bit higher than the surrounding terrain. My other big lesson for camping in the rain was to get up at the first sign of a storm and keep your bedding dry. Then you can go back to bed.

But the biggest lesson of all is that Mother Nature always wins the big fights; all we’re ever left with are the stories.

This Is A Great Speech...

By a great Man. I wish he were President.
His level of intelligence and understanding of society were clearly far above and beyond anyone else in room. He dwarfed everyone. I can see why this wasn't covered by the mainstream media. It didn't match their agenda.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OQfGm919A9o

Quote

Failure should be our teacher, not our undertaker.
 Failure is delay, not defeat. It is a temporary de-tour, not a dead end.
Failure is something we can avoid only by saying nothing, doing nothing, and being nothing.
~Denis Waitley~

I Just Read...

where Punxsutawney Phil is accurate only 39% of the time. No wonder we wait for his prediction. He's more accurate than the people we've been using.

"Hands Where I Can See Them Ladies!"

One of my sons just called to say he'd gone to a gun show in Lincoln this morning with his two young sons in tow. The facility is a sprawling event center out on the edge of town capable of hosting two or more big events.
Today they had the gun show and the other show was a giant craft bazaar.
He said the State Patrol had a presence there, but not at the gun show, it was for the craft show.
The boys have friends who are policemen who have told them that on a traffic stop, they know before approaching the vehicle whether or not the owner has a concealed carry permit. The policemen also say they don't mind those stops. The well trained nature of concealed carry permit holders means they know and follow the rules. They know the first words out of the mouths of the drivers will be, "Officer, I have a gun in the car."
It's not concealed carry permit holders or the gunshow attendees the cops are worried about. There are no amount of laws that will affect the people they are worried about, those people don't follow the rules or the new laws sent down from Washington.
By the way, I'm fat, so I want all forks and spoons banned.

New Kennel Progress Report

        I took a bunch of pictures of the inside of the new kennel and then realized they all look the same. They were all similar to looking at a row of me standing there. You know, a bunch of studs in a row. So this is all I'm putting up. The pic above is of the break room taken from the grooming area. The HVAC and plumbing and electrical are mostly all roughed in.  The pic below is deceptive because from where the camera is located to the other end is 73 feet and it just doesn't look that far. That part of the ceiling is finished and insulated. The two hanging wall heaters will be used to heat the 'outdoor' part of the building.

Favorite Christmas Day Photos

We all gathered at our Son Tom's new house for Christmas Dinner. It was melancholy at best without Great Grandma being there but we carried on.

 

This is our Daughter Juli and her niece Georgie. That of course would make Georgie Girl one our 5 Grandaughters.

 

The next two photos got hooked together by Blogger so I'll describe them from here. The top one is our buddy Ralph with one of my daughter-in-laws after the funeral on January 5th, and the bottom pic is of another Grandaughter, Danica, who found Christmas day much, much to long for her taste.

Maddie

Note: The reference to McPherson Kansas in this post may seem out of place but the magaizine this was written for covers all of Nebraska and Kansas.

McPherson
This has been a grueling Holiday Season for the Morrow’s.  Marilyn’s mother passed away just before Christmas and it was quite unexpectedly. It was complications from emergency surgery so our opportunity to prepare mentally for all of this was short. I guess we’re never prepared for such things but it’s hard to think that the head of our family has been cut down. She was the singular head because my parents have been gone many years, Marilyn’s Dad died mid 2012 and that left Maddie as the sole surviving Matriarch.

G G was 91 years old. She never could grasp the thought that she was old enough to be called Grandma but Great Grandma was the last straw and G G was her idea to avoid having to hear the words “Great Grandma” from 13 little renegades.

Maddie was fearlessly proud of her Scottish heritage. She was born Madeline McPherson. She was a card carrying member of the McPherson Clan and had traced her lineage deep into Scottish history.  Her family tartan and crest were proudly displayed in her abode and was eager to talk about them.

Maddie and I butted heads sometimes. Okay often. Well, really it was nonstop from the day we first met back in 1970. She always had a singular focus and wanted things done ASAP and I did did them for her but usually not soon enough.

 She moved from Denver to be near me, (or maybe it was my wife she was moving to be near) in 1995. That’s when we really began to know each other.  She had a keen sense of humor and cutting wit about her. I once called her at night; I was trucking near Wichita Kansas and explained that I needed a phone number from back home. I told her I was driving and couldn’t write the number down. She came back with “Cliff, here’s the number and it’s so easy, even you will be able to remember it.”  She laughed, I didn’t.

Other times she would get her jabs in early. She was always glad when I came for a visit but she would sometimes open the door, and then say in a disappointed tone, “Oh, it’s you.” But she did it with a smile and then invited me in.

She moved from Denver to our small town, and just like her daughter, completely embraced this farm community and the people. Maddie dove head first into her church, her bridge club, quilting group and those with whom she dined. She seldom missed concerts and recitals and grandkids at sporting events and as well as 4-H shows. She was quite proper about all things and kept her appearance up right to the end. Like her Father and Grandfather she was fiercely independent, completely organized, and documented her life in diaries and when the funeral arrangements were made they were made well in advance, by her.

She had a special place in her heart for McPherson Kansas that bore her maiden name. Marilyn took her mother down to the ‘Highland Games’ there in central Kansas. For those unfamiliar with them, the Highland games are athletic events originating from ancient Scotland.  They involve many events that require brute size and strength.  Like throwing what appear to be telephone poles so they flip forward away from the thrower. The poles are big enough to require a power company truck to perform the same stunt if you don’t have a Scotsman handy.

They also throw BIG hammers for distance, and heave stones over standards set quite high. I would tell Maddie that the show of strength by these guys were pretty amazing especially for some guy in a dress. The comment was meant to get a rebuttal and did. Immediately. “Cliff, those aren’t dresses, they are kilts, and by the way it’s pronounced Mc-‘fur’-son not Mc-‘fear’-son. So of course I always used the latter. But she loved the pageantry and rituals of being Scottish.

As a sidebar, I suspect the Highland Games in McPherson, KS are sponsored by the local hernia specialist.

In the game of gotcha that Maddie and I played with each other, I was always behind and trying to catch up.  Her ‘coup de grace’ for me was the time I took her to a Robert Burns banquet (famous Scottish poet) and she had me unknowingly try ‘haggis.’ I’ll not explain the ‘delicacy’ just in case you’re dining while you read this, but suffice it to say ‘she got me.’

Every place we went in our home town we’d hear, “Wow, you’re Mom is really something Marilyn.” Well, she was something. Trusting me with her daughter the past 41 years was top among my reasons to agree. Maddie, on the other hand, would have told you that very fact just showed a lack of sound judgment on her part.

But only if she thought I was within earshot.

Rest in peace my friend.

Maddie   1921~2012

Now I'm Worried

We've been going through some old family photos and found this picture of Marilyn and Santa. I have now ordered DNA Testing on my 3 kids.

OR...it might have been the year Santa brought that new Crosby Prix de Nations english flat saddle to her as a gift.