Communication Plus

It's always nice to have the youth visit. This 4-H group from Pennsylvania was part of an exchange program with several of our local counties.



Communication. It's so important. I think of uncomfortable, sad, confusing occasions resulting because of its absence. I can remember the time Brad received a phone call to serve as a pall bearer at a funeral. The person on the other end asked if he would serve as a pall bearer for their mother. Brad agreed, no questions asked. After the call we both discussed who this person might be and decided maybe we would recognize people when we got to the service. Brad lost his parents and the genealogy of his family has some holes in it, so occasionally we are in question of our relationship to certain people, and we have no immediate family to ask. We attended the service, he served as pall bearer but because of poor communication, we were never sure for who!

Then there was yesterday. My dad loves animals...dogs, cats, birds, horses, you name it he loves it. A mother Kildee had laid her eggs in our son's driveway and he had placed an old cream can next to it so people wouldn't drive over them. He told my son about the eggs, but no one else. I drove in last week and questioned Newley, our son, if I needed to move the can. He explained the Kildee situation, so I left it. A large group of 4-Hers were coming to our place, destination for their noon meal was our barn. Their route; through Newley's driveway. My dad and I drove up to turn into the driveway to our barn to meet the group. We commented as we drove in the driveway about the crowd that was there, 30 or so people were gathered. Suddenly he asked me, "Where's the cream can?" I had forgotten about it. As we approached, a good protion of the group was standing on the location of the nest. My dad asked one of the 4-Hers about the cream can explaining it was protecting Kildee eggs. One of the boys said he'd moved the can afraid that someone might run over it. Everyone immediately started looking around for the eggs. At the feet of one of the boys the three eggs lay in pieces. I thought my dad was going to cry...I almost did. Everyone felt terrible. The mother bird was screaming and fluffing her feathers. We were all sad...because of poor communication.

This morning I read the story of Jacob, Rachel and Leah. Lack of communication left Jacob waiting another 7 years for Rachel's hand. He had to marry Leah, who was older and not his true love, first. I wondered as I read the story if Jacob ever questioned his communication ability asking himself, "Shoot, why didn't I check this out 7 years ago."
As I get older I've learned to never assume anything, don't be afraid to ask questions and life is simpler, happier and more productive if you make communication a priority.

Punkin Ridge

Today I swept the old white one room schoolhouse my mom and dad moved onto our property about 15 years ago. Punkin Ridge had been left to deteriorate on one of our places but my folks decided to salvage it. My grandfather Lenard, my dad's dad, used to tell about watching his first motion picture there. Today visitors- mostly past reminiscing students-enjoy coming by and telling about the time when...
The old schoolhouse stands neglected much of the time, but tomorrow a bus load of Pennsylvania 4-Hers are coming to visit our place and the school house is one of the stops. Today I sweep the dust from deep crevices in the rough hard wood floor, some of that dust probably tracked in from my grandad's shoes as a little boy, I think to myself. As I sweep, I catch a glimpse of my 11 year old grandson through the tall glass paned windows. Trystin's job today is to mow the large lawn the surrounds the Punkin Ridge and our family cemetary . My grandparents are buried there. I watch as he stops the mower, gets off and starts to carefully pull weeds from around his great-great grandparent's headstones. A feeling I've not experienced consumes me. Overwhelming gratitude and humbleness. I thank my Lord for this moment and the life I've been blessed to live.

Liberty Lost?

"Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness," "Give me liberty or give me death," Lady liberty. LIBERTY. What is it? Do we know or care? Webster defines it as: the quality or state of being free, the power to do as one pleases, freedom from physical restraint, freedom from arbitrary or despotic control, the positive enjoyment of various social, political, or economic rights and privileges, and the power of choice. Like a spoiled child tiring of a new toy doll, I had used her and tossed her aside. I didn't purchase her, someone else had and I haven't been taking very good care of her. I had taken her for granted. Thanks to over 40 million men and women who fought for her, she was given to me as a gift. Because of that gift I can fear God and keep his commandments, pack a pistol, speak my mind, run MY business, vote and make a difference;drive the car I choose, to the bank I choose, to get money I earned, to purchase food I like to eat, then visit the doctor I prefer. Until now I have been able to do pretty much what I wanted (within reason).
For the past 8 months or so I've decided to pay a little more attention to her, take better care of her realizing her value. Her price: over a million patriots. Since January I can feel her being pulled from my hands, but the spoiled kid in me is coming out. You'll have to fight to take her away. I've reclaimed her and I think she's pretty special.
P.S. If you don't know what despotic means I looked it up for us...it's the opposite of LIBERTY. A ruler with absolute power and authority, a person exercising power tyrannically.

P.S.S...and if you don't know what arbitrary means I looked that up too. Yep...opposite of LIBERTY. Not restrained or limited in the exercise of power: ruling by absolute authority, an "arbitrary" government, marked by or resulting from the unrestrained and often tyrannical exercise of power.

P.S.S.S. If you haven't gotten involved in one of the Conservative groups fighting for her I would suggests the 9-12 Project and American Majority. They hold meetings across the nation. In Oklahoma there are several chapters.

Directions...Not My Speciality

I just thought I was dragging last week. Saturday and Sunday were busy and I thought I was going to get to turn in early last night. Nope. Brad checked the alfalfa about 8:00 p.m. and said he thought it was ready to bale. I rake...about twice a year.When we got to the field he got in my tractor (the one I drove two years ago) to refresh my knowledge of knobs. His directions: "O.K. you remember this knob does this and that one does that," and got out. I thought to myself, " And you probably know how to thread my serger, don't you?" I didn't say anything, but tried to go over in my mind the instructions he'd given me. By now it's dark. His directions for following the swathed trails are pretty much the same, "Just follow this path (what path??) until you get down there to that tree (what tree, it's dark??) and turn right, then you may have to swing back and pick up that other part... blah, blah, blah." The directions made absolutely no sense to me...but I didn't say a word. I just nodded "yes" and did my best. This morning when we went back to finish up, my nocturnal inattention to details was evident.
Another puzzling activity we do every summer that involves directions from my husband is the: "You Take Me Over To The Smith Place I'll Road This Tractor Back to the Ford Place You Take The Chevy Pickup Go Home and Come Back Then I'll Take This Tractor With the Baler Back to Canton We'll Both Get Back In The Tractor Sit For a While Then We'll Road It Back Home Again." On those days I need a road map explaining what's on his mind.
I was so confused Saturday night that I left him in the field until 11:00 p.m. He called and said I was suppose to have picked him up at 8:30 p.m. When he called I felt like I was on Jeopardy. "Where did I ask you to take the pickup?" Da,Da,Da,Da,Da,Da Daaa, Da, Da,Da,Da, Da,dadadadada...just before the buzzer, I answer "What is the Haskin's Place? "Yes." he said (whew, got that one right!) "Now where did I tell you to go after that?" " What is Home?" I say. BEEEEEP (whoops, got that one wrong) "No, that's not what I said, I wanted you to come back and get me." he said. At that point he asked me, "Where am I now?"... I said with weak uncertainty " What is The Humphrey Place?" "Yes." he said in an exasperated voice, "Now can you come and get me?" I did, with many apologies.
No chance of a "Returning Direction Taking Champ" title for me.

Makin Fun Out of Nothin At All

At an early age I wanted to go with the guys to "pull a calf" ("deliver a baby" in ranch terms), round up cattle or just ride in the pickup while my dad cut open gunny sacks full of "cow cake" ("food for the cattle" in ranch terms) shaking it out of the back of a slow moving vehicle put in "granny" (low gear)....I pretended I was driving the 1954 Ford. I absolutely loved doing this and would get in with anyone that was going through our driveway. My favorite past time when left in our feed truck for long periods of time was to get into the steering wheel draping my legs through the open spaces, grasp the top of the wheel and swing it from side to side. I would also analyze all of the knobs and buttons on the dashboard. I can still remember what the dashboard of the feed truck looked like.
I said I would get in with anyone that would take me. My mom told of a time I got in with the hired man at the age of 2 or so and went with him 45 miles to one of our other places. No one knew where I'd gone. Finally, Ella, the hired man's wife from the other place called and said I'd gotten in with Iman and was over at Lenora. Iman was our hired man and my best friend. He worked for us for the next 15 years.
Other times I enjoyed studying the dashboard of the truck was when I would go out with the guys to a place we leased in Cheyenne Valley and wait while they rounded up cattle. There were large Diamond Back rattlesnakes on that place and my dad would warn me not to get out of the truck. That terrified me so I would roll the windows up and wait. I know I probably shouldn't be alive today because it probably got over 115 degrees in there! My husband's family bought that ranch after we leased it in the 1960's. We didn't know each other then, but today he and I own it and we still go out there. Diamond Backs still call it home and when we're out there and I'm left in the pickup for extended periods of time I still keep my windows rolled up...with the air conditioner running and study the dashboard.

Blessings In Small Packages

It's been a busy week. Worked at my daughters flower shop on Wednesday. I'm dragging. Wheat harvest has officially ended tonight. We are still baling/swathing hay and cutting canola. Meals are still going out to the field... they're getting skimpier. We celebrated Malachi Mahan's birthday last night with around 20 familiy members showing up to swim, eat hamburgers, cake and ice cream. Malachi is one of our grandsons that, until recently, had been living in a cubicle in the Washington D.C. area among the other 9 million people...with a yard the size of my bathroom. His family had the opportunity to move back home and start working on the ranch, so this guy is excited everyday about being on the farm! This morning he walked with me over to our office which is next door to our house. I commented on the fact that it was getting dry and I wished the Lord would bless us with a little rain. He said, "He will Drammaw Andy, you just have to be patient." From the mouths of babes...

Cyclone Back to Oz

Got back last night from Kansas, then had to turn around and go back again today by myself.
Brad, my husband, is a pilot. He offered to take me...but I don't fly. He is continually telling me how much time could be saved if only I would fly. It's not that I don't trust him...I don't trust gravity. The extra trip was to take more water resource info to our lawyer. We had been gathering affidavits, etc for over two years and our file was huge. My house was teaming with activity; grandkids were swimming, I was making trips back and forth to our office which is next to our home, people were in and out of the office, the phone was ringing off the wall and harvest men were needing fed. Finding an opening to exit, I grabbed my purse and headed to Medicine Lodge, KS. At Seiling, which is 10 miles from our home, I realized my reason for going had been left behind...but where? Almost in tears I called home and told Brad I thought I left the file on top of the car and I bet those papers were scattered all over Dewey County. A flashback of the time I left my purse on top of our car and drove around with it on top came to mind. I turned around and headed back. Brad left our house and headed towards town to check for flying papers. No sign of them. That was a relief. I must have left them in the chair by the door. Sure enough they were there. I was 30 minutes late for my appointment, but I had my stuff...The Lord Takes Good Care of Me...someone has to!