My Housemates

by Pa Rock

Amiable Curmudgeon

On a clear day my oldest son can almost see fifty.  He currently resides in my home, a situation that has not always been the case, nor, with his active eye for the ladies, is it likely to remain the case - but for the time-being it is what it is - and it works out surprisingly well.  His dog, Riley, and my dog, Rosie, also inhabit our abode.

I broke my arm last spring, and having Nick handy proved to be a godsend throughout the spring and summer.  He has a job, he brings in his share of the groceries and then some, and he pitches in with the housework.  (I let my two Amish cleaning ladies go as the pandemic began to worsen.). Nick does the dishes, vacuums relentlessly, and keeps things picked up.  My forte is the laundry.

Generally we get along well, even if our view of the world is rooted in two very distinct generations.  One area where we do occasionally see things differently is with regard to the other person who shares our home - Alexa.  Nick sees her as an eavesdropper who is always on the listen for family secrets that can then be transmitted to Big Brother or the space aliens who are likely to be hovering over West Plains - and I see her more as buddy who will tell me the news, answer questions, and play my favorite songs on demand.

The other day Nick made some remark related to the weather, and I quickly informed him that Alexa said that we would have rain on Sunday and Thursday.  "Dad," he said, rather sternly, "You do realize that Alexa is not a real person, don't you?"  

"Yes," I admitted, and then quickly added, "But that's what she said."

And we were okay for awhile, until I brought up Yogi Bear.  "Do you remember the old "Yogi Bear" cartoon show on television?"  I asked.

"Yes," Nick said, smiling.  "I do remember it."

"Alexa knows the theme song!"

And then Nick went out to the garage to play darts - by himself!

Alexa also knows the theme song to "Mister Ed," but I think that I will keep that to myself for now!

"A horse is a horse, of course, of course,

And no one can talk to a horse, of course,

That is, of course, unless the horse is the famous Mister Ed!

"Go right to the source and ask the horse,

He'll give you the answer that you'll endorse

He's always on a steady course,

Talk to Mister Ed!"

They just don't write them like that anymore!

A Moveable Feast

by Pa Rock

Reader

"If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast."   Ernest Hemingway 

American novelist Ernest Hemingway cloaked himself in a life that was every bit as exciting and colorful as those lived by the characters who populated his novels.  Hemingway was born in Oak Park, Illinois. in 1899, the son of a country doctor who was an outdoorsman and a culturally refined mother who pushed her son toward the arts.  Young Hemingway tried  to join the US military as an infantry "foot soldier" in World War I, but was turned down because of poor eyesight.  He ended up volunteering as an ambulance driver for the Red Cross on the Italian front, and after serving heroically and suffering multiple shrapnel wounds, he  went on to enlist in the Italian infantry and saw service on the Austrian front.

Hemingway and his first wife, Hadley Richardson, moved to Paris in 1921 - a century ago this year - where he wrote dispatches for a newspaper in Toronto and did freelance work for other newspapers and journals while honing his skills as a professional writer of stories and novels.  Ernest spent his days holed up in the cafe's of Paris where he did much of his writing, while Hadley explored the city and pursued her own interests.  Together they traversed the Paris cultural scene and managed to see and experience much of Europe.

Ernest Hemingway spent the better part of seven years in Paris (1921-1928) and kept the experiences that he and Hadley had while living there in a series of notebooks.  He had always intended to eventually write about those early years in Paris.  Sometime during the course of the 1920's and 1930's, the author lost track of his notebooks.  Then one afternoon in 1956 while sitting in the lobby of the Ritz Hotel in Paris and enjoying a drink with the manager, a friend from the old days in Paris, the manager suddenly mentioned that he still had the two small steamer trunks that Hemingway had asked him t safeguard before World War II.    Hemingway retrieved the wayward trunks, and as he was digging through the remains of his youth in Paris, he found his long-lost notebooks.

The last writing project that Ernest Hemingway undertook was the editing and organizing of those notebooks into a book format.  He had not completed the project when he died of his own hand in Idaho in 1961 as he avoided the final ravages of cancer.  Hemingway's third wife, Mary, completed the project.  Not satisfied with her effort, Hemingway's son, Patrick, and his grandson, Sean, reworked the project again after Mary's death.  This is a review of what is now referred to as the "Restored Edition" of Ernest Hemingway's final work.

Hemingway's Paris is alive with the people who were the pillars of twentieth century literature and the arts.  He talks of visits to Gertrude's Stein's apartment and her enthusiasm for his writing.  Stein also encouraged him to spend his money - which was very limited - on "pictures" (art) rather than on clothing.  At one point he confided to Hadley that Miss Stein could be quite a bore, and Hadley replied that she would not know because she was just a wife and she was relegated to only speaking with Miss Stein's friend (Alice B. Toklas).  Hemingway's bent toward snobbishness is hinted at in his recollections of visits at the Stein apartment.  He never refers to Toklas by name - only as Miss Stein's friend - and although he talks of several encounters with Miss Stein's maidservant - and mentions her personal kindnesses to him - he openly admits that he could not even remember her name.

Hemingway in A Moveable Feast focuses on F. Scott Fitzgerald and his wife, Zelda, more than any of his other Paris literary contemporaries.  He tells a wonderful tale about him and Scott, not long after they first met, going to Leon to retrieve Fitzgerald's automobile - which had broken down - to drive it back to Paris. It turns out that the trip to Leon was the first time Scott had spent a night separated from Zelda since their marriage.   

The car they retrieved was a small Renault that had suffered damage to its top, and instead of having the damage repaired, Zelda had ordered that the top be removed.  Right-on-cue as the two young authors began their road trip back to Paris, the skies opened up and it began raining.  They spent several hours driving in and out of rain before deciding to get a room for the night.    As soon as they settled into a room for the evening, Scott decided that he was sick - and he wanted his temperature taken.  

F. Scott Fitzgerald put his neurotic character on full display as he demanded that Hemingway or a member of the hotel staff produce a thermometer - of which there was not one to be had.    Eventually after much complaining by the author of The Great Gatsby, a staff member showed up with a bath thermometer - with a wooden back and "enough metal to sink in a bath."  Hemingway joked that Fitzgerald was fortunate because it was not a rectal thermometer, and the clueless Scott then asked where it did go.  His quick thinking friend told him that it was for an under-arm reading and proceeded to take his temperature and then announced that it was normal.

But Scott did not trust the doctor's son who had at one time been an ambulance driver for the Red Cross, and he demanded that Hemingway take his own temperature as well so that they could compare the readings.  Hemingway complied and then announced that his numbers were the same and that he was fine - so F. Scott Fitzgerald decided that he must have recuperated.

And then there was the issues surrounding Zelda Fitzgerald.   Scott was totally besotted with Zelda, and Hemingway figured out quickly that Zelda was trying to sabotage her husband's writing through alcohol and a lifestyle centering on partying.  At a point not too long after their first meeting, Hemingway also experienced the sudden realization that Zelda actually was insane.

Ernest Hemingway seemed to show disdain for many of the characters with whom he interacted in the Paris of the 1920's.   A pair of notable exceptions were poets Ezra Pound and Evan Shipman.   Every mention of Pound was almost reverential, and he described in glowing terms Pound's efforts at setting up a charitable foundation to free poet T.S. Eliot from the soul-depleting drudgery of having to work in a London bank to support himself.  Young Evan Shipman was an unpublished poet who earned Hemingway's respect and lifelong friendship by doing things of a practical nature like actually digging in the soil to produce gardens to feed others.

Ernest and Hadley's only son, Jack (later the father of Margaux, Mariel, and Joan), was born during the Paris years while they were home in Canada in 1923.  He returned to Paris with his parents as a tiny infant who had to be barricaded into his ship's bunk during a hard trans-Atlantic winter crossing.  The new parents nicknamed their son "Bumby" and raised him in an unconventional manner.  According to the father's recollection, Bumby, who was a good baby who seldom fussed or cried, was sometimes left in the care of F. Puss, the family cat, while father wrote in the local cafes and mother ran errands.  Bumby and the cat would curl up together and sleep on the apartment floor.  Later, as Bubmy began becoming more mobile, he would accompany his father to the cafes where he knew to sit silently and observe others while his father wrote.

Hemingway and Hadley split up in their sixth year of marriage as he began having an affair with a friend of Hadley's who was living with them.  He describes that slow and very painful transition from one lover to another in a chapter in The Moveable Feast entitled "The Pilot Fish and the Rich."  It is the best writing in the book.

Hemingway's breakup with Hadley clearly impacted him deeply and reached across the decades.  In several "fragments" of his writing that he had penned especially for this effort and that his heirs chose to include at the end of the book, he referred to Hadley as the "heroine" of the stories.  Clearly he never got over her.

And there is so much more to this fine memoir.  Time spent reading it is time that will be savored.

The feast moves onward and continues to nourish.

Ancestor Archives: Nancy Anthaline Scarbrough (1857-1935)

by Rocky Macy

(Note:  Today's entry completes the profiles of my eight great-grandparents.  Next week I will begin exploring some of the other limbs and branches in my family tree.)

Nancy Anthaline SCARBROUGH was born on May 28, 1857, in the state of Missouri to James M. SCARBROUGH and Mary Jane SMITH SCARBROUGH.  She married Samuel James ROARK in Newton County, Missouri, on December 10, 1876.  Nancy spent the rest of her life on the family farm that she and Sam owned and operated in northwest McDonald County, and she passed away there on July 2, 1935, after being a widow for almost ten years.
 
Nancy first appears in the public record in the 1860 US Census as the three-year-old daughter of Mary J. Scarboro (age 30) and James M. Scarboro (age 27).  (Curiously, Mary Jane was listed first on the family census entry, a position usually held by the “head of household.”)   One other daughter is listed in the household:  Sallie A. Scarboro, (age 7).    Sallie’s birth seems to predate the parents’ marriage of August 7, 1856, in Logan County, Kentucky, by around three years – which would indicate that she could have been Nancy’s half-sister by either parent, or a full-sister born out of wedlock.  (“Sallie A.” is listed as “Sarah A.” in the 1870 census.  Sallie was a common nickname for Sarah at that time.)
 
Although James M. and Mary Jane SCARBROUGH seem to disappear from the public record after the 1860 census, they apparently had two more children.   Catherine (a name shared by Mary Jane’s mother) was born around 1862 in Missouri, and the youngest child, James William SCARBROUGH was born in Texas on December 13, 1868.  His obituary lists the location in Texas as “Sien,” but this researcher has yet to locate a Texas community of that name.  That same obituary, which was likely written by his older sister, Nancy, who was with him at his home in Kansas at the time of his death, stated that their parents had “died young.”
 
Nancy's death certificate in 1935 lists her father simply as “Scarobrough” (with an extra “o”) born in England, and her mother’s maiden name as “Smith,” born in Tennessee.  Nancy’s son, Claude Roark, was the informant on her death certificate.  Her younger brother, James William Scarbrough, died on August 12, 1911, in Kirwin, Phillips County, Kansas during the first month that death certificates were officially in use in that state.  His certificate appears to have been carefully prepared and written in a beautiful cursive script, and although no informant is listed, Nancy was with him in his home at the time of his death and undoubtedly helped in providing information about her brother’s family background.  That certificate lists the deceased as “William Scarbrough,” and his parents as “George Scarbrough” born in England and “Mary Jane Smith” born in Tennessee.
 
By the time of the 1870 census, the four SCARBROUGH children were living in the home of their maternal uncle, William C. SMITH, and his wife, Lucinda, of Buffalo Township in Newton County, Missouri.  In that census they were listed as “Sarah A.” (age 22), “Nancy A.” (age 13),  “Catherine” (age 8), and “William” (age 4).    
 
(William and Lucinda SMITH were wed in 1868 and had no children of their own during the forty-one years in which they were married prior to Lucinda’s death.   Nancy and Sam named their first daughter Lucinda Comfort, apparently in honor of her stand-in mother, Lucinda SMITH, and Sam’s mother, Comfort POE ROARK.)
 
According to an article entitled “Our Rural Schools” which appeared on page three of the “Neosho Daily News” on August 16, 1976 and was based on information provided by Nancy’s grandson, Sam NUNN, Nancy attended school in “Number One School (District 85)” which had been built after the Civil War and was what Mr. NUNN referred to as a “log building’” that was also used as a church.  “Number One School” served students in the extreme southwest corner of Newton County in a district that was bordered by McDonald County on the south and Oklahoma Territory on the west.  Nancy would have attended in the original log building.  It was replaced by a newer structure in 1912, and the original building was taken across the road and converted into a barn.   “Number One School” was consolidated with Seneca Schools around 1965.
 
Nancy’s formal education was over by December 10, 1876, the date on which she married Samuel James ROARK at the home of William and Lucinda SMITH.  She and Sam soon had their own farm in northwest McDonald County not too far from the places where each of them grew up.
 
Children were an important factor in farm life in the 19^th century, and Nancy and Sam had eleven, the same number that Sam’s parents had.   The eleven that Nancy gave birth to included:  James W. (possibly “James William” after her younger brother) (1877-1879), John Henry (1881-1942), Robert Austin (1883-1953), Samuel Lafayette (1886-1918), Nancy Jane (my grandmother) (1889-1953), Lilly B. (1890-1892), Martha Carol (1893-1978), Claude Smith (1896-1960), Mary Melinda (1898-1964), and Nathan Wilbert (1902-1950).  
 
Nine of the children grew to adulthood, and of the nine only Claude Smith ROARK remained single.  The others and their spouses were:  Lucinda Comfort (Fred G. WILSON), John Henry (Phoebe GRUNDEN), Robert Austin (Sylvia BUZZARD), Samuel LaFayette (Bertha BAILEY), Nancy Jane (Daniel A. SREAVES), Martha Carol (Peter B. NUNN, Mary Melinda (Ernest C. TUCKER), and Nathan Wilbert (Virgie ELLIS).
 
Not only did Nancy attend school herself, one of her children, Samuel Lafayette, became a teacher.  He taught eighth grade in Vinita, Oklahoma, and later in the high school there.  After marrying a teacher in Vinita, Samuel and his bride moved on to teach in McAlester, Oklahoma, and Greely, Colorado.   Samuel taught “manual training” to high school students.  He was also the superintendent of the Baptist Sunday School in Vinita.  In his marriage announcement on the front page of the “Vinita Evening Sun-Hearld” on June 5, 1916, Samuel was twice referred to as “Prof. Roark.”
 
Nancy SCARBROUGH ROARK may have been a strong-willed farm woman who gave birth to eleven children and raised nine to adulthood, but she was also surprisingly diminutive in stature.  The article that her grandson, Sam NUNN, wrote about her and her husband Sam for the “McDonald County Sesquicentennial Family Histories” in 1999 contains a photograph of the couple that was taken by a professional photographer in a studio.  In the photo Sam is seated with Nancy standing next to him with her hand on his shoulder.  Standing, she is only a few inches taller than Sam is sitting!
 
My mother, Ruby “Florine” SREAVES MACY described her Grandmother ROARK as being “tiny” and “just the sweetest little woman.”  Mom said that her grandmother’s oldest daughter, Lucinda or “Lou,” was “little like she was,” but that the rest of the daughters were all “big girls.”
 
At this point in time it is not known what became of Nancy’s two sisters, Sarah. A. “Sallie” and Catherine SCARBROUGH, but her baby brother, James William SCARBROUGH  had grown from less than two-years-old through young adulthood at the home of their uncle, William C. SMITH, of Buffalo Township in Newton County, Missouri.  He died in Kansas in 1911, leaving behind a wife and five small children.
 
One of the defining events of Nancy ROARK’s later life was a lawsuit that she was a party to, and possibly instigated, over the estate of her uncle, William C. SMITH, the relative who had taken her and her siblings in when they were orphaned children.  Over the years, in fact, William and his wife, Lucinda, had taken in several homeless relatives, and at the time of his death William C. SMITH had a niece and her family from Arkansas living in his house with him.
 
Lucinda preceded William in death, and so did his six siblings.  A couple of years before William passed away in 1920, he went to see a lawyer and had a will drawn up.  In that will he stated that upon his death his estate was to be divided equally among the fifty-three heirs of his siblings.  At that time William owned a farm and personal property in Newton County, Missouri, three lots in Miami, Oklahoma, as well as some debts owed to him by others and whatever cash he had saved.
 
Six of the fifty-three inheritors were unhappy with the terms of the will and went to court in an effort to partition the other forty-seven out of the estate. The six plaintiffs were mostly from the Seneca area, and were likely the ones who had had the most contact with William and done the most to provide for his care in his declining years.  (They may have felt they were more “entitled” to William’s wealth than the others.)  A series of lengthy legal notices ran in the Neosho newspaper over several weeks that listed the six plaintiffs and the forty-seven defendants.  Nancy A. Roark was always the first plaintiff listed, and the defendants included William’s niece who was still a resident in his home, as well as the five children of James William SCARBROUGH, Nancy’s own nieces and nephews.  The case finally went before a judge who determined that the terms of the will should be followed.  He ordered all of the property sold, the debts to be paid, and the proceeds to be divided among the fifty-three heirs – just as William C. SMITH had originally intended.
 
After Sam ROARK died in 1925, Nancy spent the next ten years as a widow.  She lived in her own home along with her unmarried son, Claude Smith ROARK.   Also in that household was a grandchild, Julia “June” ROARK, the daughter of “Professor Sam ROARK and his wife Bertha BAILEY ROARK.   June had been born in Greely, Colorado in June of 1918, two years after her parents’ marriage in June of 1916.  Bertha passed away from a prolonged illness three months later in September, and Sam died three months after her in December of 1918.   It looks like the infant, June, entered her grandparents’ household at that time.  She was seventeen when her grandmother passed away in 1935.  At the time of the 1940 census, June (age 21) was still living in her grandmother’s house along with her uncle, Claude ROARK.  
 
(Julia “June” ROARK eventually married and raised a family of her own.  She passed away in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, in 2006.)
 
My mother related one story about her Grandmother ROARK’s later years.  She said that her grandmother had severe rheumatism and reached a stage where she was unable to walk.   She didn’t have a wheelchair, but instead sat in her rocking chair and had her son, Claude, pull her chair from room to room across the hardwood floors.
 
Nancy Anthaline SCARBROUGH ROARK passed away at her home in Buffalo Township of McDonald County, Missouri, on Tuesday, July 2, 1935.  The following obituary ran on page 11 of the “Miami (Oklahoma) News Record:”

 

“Death of Old Resident”

 

“Mrs. Nancy Roark, 78 years old, died Tuesday at her home south of Seneca.  Mrs, Roark was an old resident, having lived in this community for many years.  She is survived by four sons, John Roark of Seneca, Robert Roark of California, Will Roark of Kansas, and Claud Roark at home;  one granddaughter, June Roark of the home;  three daughters, Mrs. Ernest Tucker, Mrs. Pete Nunn, and Mrs. Dan Sreaves, of the Hart community;  and several other grandchildren.  Funeral services were held Wednesday afternoon at the Swars Prairie Baptist church, conducted by the Reverend Jent of Belfast.  Burial was in the Swars Prairie cemetery under direction of Mitchell undertakers.”

 

The “Old Resident” was finally at peace.

Prosecutor Gets Trump's Tax Returns - Finally!

by Pa Rock

Citizen Journalist

My father, who was an independent businessman for most of his life, managed to keep his yearly receipts on a twelve-inch metal spike.  At the end of each year he would carefully pull them off and then go sit at his desk and figure his taxes.  

Unlike my father, I usually worked for wages and most of my tax information was printed onto W-2 forms.  But as the tax laws became more complex for us "little people," the ones whom Leona Helmsley famously noted actually pay taxes, I found myself accumulating more and more paper related to income and expenditures over the years.  I keep all of this in a wooden box beneath my bed, and every spring I drag it out, dump it onto the kitchen table, and sort all of the paper into little piles which I then total up and report to the lady who does my taxes.  Some of the paper gets thrown away, and the rest I keep in brown paper grocery bags for ten years.  

I used to have a full grocery bag for each year, but now, as a retiree, I am down to about two-thirds-of-a-bag per annum.

But at even just two-thirds of a bag, I still pay a lot in taxes, and I don't complain - too loudly - because I appreciate being able to drive on paved roads and knowing that I can summon a policeman, or a firetruck, or an ambulance to my house if I need one. I'm glad that my grandchildren have the opportunity to attend publicly-funded schools and affordable colleges.   I also appreciate having a standing military that is ready to repel those treacherous Canadians if they come storming across the border trying to give us all free healthcare!

Taxes are important.  I pay mine, usually without complaint.

Donald Trump doesn't keep his tax records in paper grocery bags.  This morning it was revealed that the office of Manhattan District Attorney Cyrus Vance has finally taken possession of Trump's tax records from 2011 through 2018, and that those eight years of records contain "millions of pages of documents."  The accounting firm that housed those records must be awfully good because it had earlier been reported that Trump, who claims to be a billionaire, only paid $750 in federal taxes for two of those years (2016 and 2017).

For years Trump has steadfastly refused to make his tax returns public, as per the usual practice of presidential candidates, and he had viciously fought to keep the records out of the hands of prosecutors and the state and federal levels.

But now the dam has broken.  Last week the US Supreme Court declined to block the release of Trump's tax records, and on Monday they were delivered to Vance and his team of investigators.

Justice may at last be at hand.

Leona Helmsley went to prison for tax evasion.   Maybe Trump will, too.

Leona and Donald didn't do much to pay for America's prisons, but a lot of us little people did - and it appears to be money well spent.

Donald, when that big metal door finally slams on you, just think of it as more free public housing.  Sleep peacefully on your metal cot that is bolted to the floor knowing that you are once more scamming the taxpayers.  And enjoy the communal sauna, but don't drop the soap!

Beto and AOC are Good People - Ted Cruz, Not so Much

by Pa Rock

Citizen Journalist

If the United States Senate gave a "Dumbass of the Week" award, Ted Cruz would no doubt be a regular contender for the honor, but last week he would have won it hands-down!  Last week while Texas was suffering from snow, freezing temperatures, and power outages, Senator Cruz thought it would be a fine time to gather up the wife and kiddies and fly to a resort in the sun-drenched seaside city of Cancun, Mexico.   Poor naive Ted didn't see anything wrong with his quickie vacation until he was in the air, heading south, and suddenly began seeing pictures of himself and his luggage on social media and having his name trending on Twitter.  By the time his plane touched down in Cancun, he had decided that perhaps he would be wise to head back home.

But by the time Teddy made his way back to Houston the next day, it was already too late.  Permanent political damage had been done.  He was a laughing stock on social media, and plenty of Texans were good and pissed.  A member of Ted's staff had leaked information about the senator's trip to the press, and now neighbors were also sharing his wife's vacation texts with members of the Fourth Estate.    Protestors were gathered on the front lawn of his nice home in Houston, and someone even had the brass (pun intended) to hire a mariachi band to show up at the senator's residence and give an impromptu concert.  All that was missing were the taco trucks!

Teddy Boy went into full damage-control mode.  He had a photographer snap his picture as he loaded, completely by himeself, a case of bottled water into the back of a very nice SUV - in a parking lot that appeared to be almost completely empty.  And while that photo-op was undoubtedly intended to show Ted doing his bit for the relief effort, it could just as easily have been a snapshot of him doing his own personal shopping.

Meanwhile, in a less-advantaged part of Houston, New York Democratic Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and several prominent Texas Democrats had their sleeves rolled up and were working the lines at a Texas food bank - real relief efforts with real people who had been seriously impacted by the statewide weather and energy disaster.  Not only was AOC, a person often vilified by conservative Republicans such as Cruz, working to directly connect Texans with life-saving food, she had also raised nearly five million dollars in donations for several Texas relief organizations.

And meanwhile, on the other side of the state in El Paso, Beto O'Rourke, the young dynamo who almost beat Cruz in the senate race two years ago, was also hard at work providing care to his fellow Texans.  Beto was working to connect people with warming centers and to get the homeless off of the streets.  He also created an internet relief effort that raised more than $1.4 million, and he was seen loading water onto trucks for distribution to poor households in the Rio Grande Valley.  There was even one report that he had personally driven an SUV loaded with bottled water more than eight hours from the El Paso area to people in need living in Austin.

Everywhere poor Ted Cruz turned he bumped into contrasting realities - and they were spectacular.  Others were energized, focused, raising money, and saving lives with actual on-the-ground hard work, and then there was Ted, bumbling around, trying to seem relevant in a world gone mad with caring and sincerity.  

Ted just not fit in.

So he went back to Washington where he could do his Senate thing - and yesterday his Senate thing was questioning people about why police efforts to protect the Capitol failed during the riots of January 6th, riots that he helped instigate.

Beto O'Rourke is the future of Texas, and Alexandria Occasion-Cortez is the future of Congress.  Both are focused on the needs of people and getting things done.  They represent the strength and ideals of our nation.    Ted Cruz, on the other hand, and people of his stripe represent themselves and focus on meeting their own needs.  

As sentient human beings with at least a modicum of free will, there are always choices we can make.  We can choose to do our bit to feed, clothe, and shelter those in need, or we can fly off to Cancun.  Our choices define us and inform the world as to who we are.

Beto O'Rourke and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez are good people.  Ted Cruz, not so much.

Voters Beware of a Fist in the Air!

by Pa Rock

Citizen Journalist

Josh Hawley may not have had a Mariachi band show up on his front yard yet, like the one that performed uninvited on Ted Cruz's lawn earlier this week, but he knows that it's only a matter of time until he wakes up to the lively sounds of horns and guitars.  Hawley hates those brown-skinned people who cross our southern border in search of sub-minimum wage jobs every bit as much as Ted Cruz does - even more!  Yesterday he used his time in questioning Attorney General nominee Merrick Garland to score points with the nativist base of the Republican Party.  

Hawley hates immigrants - and he is damned proud of it!

Josh also hates "antifa scum," a term he used to describe the peaceful protestors who walked up and down the sidewalk in front of his embarrassingly expensive Virginia home.   (Protestors are far less likely to bother Josh and his family when they are back home in Missouri - because the Hawley's have no home in Missouri.)   And Missouri's junior senator does not lose any sleep worrying about the needs of Missourians anyway.  Right now his energies are focused on the extremely important needs of people in places like Iowa - and New Hampshire.  

If you are "anti" the anti-fascists, what does that make you?

Josh Hawley is dreaming big.  The job of being a US senator was only a stepping stone to get him onto the national stage, and now that he has made his fist-in-the-air entry into national politics, he is running full-on for president.  He is no longer just Missouri's bane and embarrassment, Josh has expanded his playing field and he is now an embarrassment to the entire country and a threat to democracy and our way of life.

The American presidency has had its share of scoundrels and people who were controlled by scoundrels, but the institution and democracy itself were never threatened into near extinction until Trump came along.  Now some may see working to subvert democracy as the new normal, and they may no longer feel the need to be subjected to the vagaries of voters.  Hawley put his fist in the air in acknowledgment of the group who were on their way to storm the US Capitol, and later that same day he voted to ignore the will of American voters.   

Josh Hawley does not seem like he sort of person who would willingly relinquish power once he has it.

Voters beware of a fist in the air!

Monday's Poetry: A Farewell

by Rocky Macy

I lost a good friend over the weekend.  Mertie, who was 93-years-old when she passed, led a full life and managed to live independently until suffering a stroke about four years ago that left her in need of full-time care in a residential setting.  That was a hard adjustment, but friends and family stayed close providing love and companionship.

Mertie and I met when my family moved to Noel, Missouri, in 1958.  Her daughter was one of my fifth-grade classmates.  Over the years our lives crossed paths many times.  She knew all of my children from the time they were born, and each considered Mertie to be sort of an auxiliary grandmother.   The last time we met face-to-face was a year ago this month when I joined her for lunch at her care facility in northwest Arkansas.

And then the awful pandemic hit and the nursing homes hunkered down and stopped in-person visits in order to protect their residents, and thousands of America's elderly were cut off from the outside world as even relatives were unable to have face-to-face contact with their loved ones.  I sent Mertie cards during the year in isolation and the staff included me on a zoom birthday call for her in July - and though Mertie had lost the ability to speak, she still managed to express displeasure at my long pandemic hair and unruly beard - but she did it in a good-humored manner!

The enforced isolation was just starting to come to an end when my friend passed away.   She had received her COVID inoculations, but fell ill to another malady which ultimately defeated her.  Mertie had a good life, I know that, but it is such a shame that she and so many others were denied personal contact with family and friends at the end of their lives - a situation that many did not even understand.

There were so many "farewells" that went unsaid.

Farewell, and rest well, Mertie.  Your labors here are done.

Here is a farewell for the ages from former British Poet Laureate Alfred Lord Tennyson:

A Farewell

by Alfred Lord Tennyson

Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea, 
Thy tribute wave deliver: 
No more by thee my steps shall be, 
For ever and for ever. 

Flow, softly flow, by lawn and lea, 
A rivulet then a river: 
Nowhere by thee my steps shall be 
For ever and for ever. 

But here will sigh thine alder tree 
And here thine aspen shiver; 
And here by thee will hum the bee, 
For ever and for ever. 

A thousand suns will stream on thee, 
A thousand moons will quiver; 
But not by thee my steps shall be, 
For ever and for ever.

Rush Limbaugh was No Saint - Regardless of What Jason Smith Says!

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

My congressman, Republican Jason Smith of Missouri's 8th congressional district, sent out his weekly email newsletter this morning, and it was centered on the congressman's thoughts regarding Rush Limbaugh, a controversial radio figure who died from lung cancer earlier in the week.  Smith was full of high praise for the conservative loudmouth, which, considering Rush was born in this congressional district, is undoubtedly good politics.  But, from an honesty perspective, Smith's words rang hollow.

Here are the first few paragraphs of my congressman's false praise of Limbaugh:

"Missouri has lost one of its favorite sons, and the country has lost a hero. For over three decades, Rush Limbaugh inspired millions of people and was a leader of the conservative movement. He guided generations of us towards a deeper love of America and enduring respect for the Constitution and the liberties and freedoms we enjoy.

“With talent on loan from God,” as he used to say, Rush was able to cut through the spin and propaganda to provide clarity in a complicated world unlike anything we’ve ever seen. Even though he may no longer be with us, his presence and influence will continue well into the future.

"Rush didn’t use his powerful platform to court and bend to the elites. Rather he used it to stand up for the little guy and the forgotten men and women in communities all across our country. He was a voice of the working class who never forgot where he came from, no matter how big he got."

(Included with the piece was a photograph of Rush taken at last year's State of the Union address in which Trump cheapened the Presidential Medal of Freedom by awarding one to Limbaugh.  In the photo Rush was smiling like a fine Missouri hog as he stood between his fourth wife and Trump's third.  God love GOP family values!)

Congressman Smith's remarks were, of course, nonsense.  It's hard to equate a love of the Constitution and "liberties" with Rush's history of celebrating the deaths of gay men from AIDS, or his sexist attacks on women whose politics he disliked.  Limbaugh spent his entire radio career promoting hate and division across American society, and it is little wonder that he was held in such high esteem by people like Donald Trump.

Congressman Smith was also using his newsletter to remind his constituents of just how important he (Smith) is.  He talked about meeting Rush at the ceremony where he (Limbaugh) was honored with a bronze bust of his large head being unveiled at the state capitol in the exhibit of famous Missourians, and he talked about watching Rush introduce Trump in Cape Girardeau, Missouri, Rush's hometown - and a part of Smith's rural district.

And then, of course, Smith also wanted to make sure that his constituents knew that he, too, was at the State of the Union address where Trump's wife hung the Medal of Freedom on the bloated bigot.

Good work, Jason.  Now that you've proven you can write fiction while patting yourself on the back, why not get to work and see if you can pump some economic and educational opportunities into your district - and maybe some of that infrastructure stuff, too - like better roads, bridges, and reliable internet access.  Rush Limbaugh did not do anything for Missouri, but you, Sir, could if you were of a mind too.

Mitch and Trump Split the Sheets

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist 

One developing political story this week that got swept aside by Ted Cruz's fun-in-the-sun Cancun vacation was the widening rift between Moscow Mitch McConnell and Putin's other puppet, Donald Trump.  Trump's focus was, is, and always will be on  whatever benefits him, whereas Mitch seems to be more attuned to the survival and growth of the Republican Party, which, in turn, will keep him in power in his beloved Senate.

For the Republican Party to sustain itself and grow, Mitch has to focus on two groups.  First he has to keep the Trump base in line and loyal to the party - and second he has to somehow placate the GOP's big-money donors, many of whom quit writing checks to Republican office holders as a result of the Trump-instigated attack on the Capitol on January 6th.

For weeks McConnell allowed the rumor to circulate that he might vote for conviction in the Trump Senate impeachment trial - and his wife, Trump Transportation Secretary Elaine Chao resigned her cabinet position early in what seemed to be a personal protest of the way Trump had handled the attack on the Capitol.  But then the day before the vote in the impeachment trial, Mitch gave a political nod to Trump's base by announcing that he would vote for acquittal.

Not long after the impeachment vote, Mitch McConnell stood on the Senate floor and delivered a blistering attack on Trump, one in which he blamed the former President both for encouraging the attack and for not doing anything to bring it to an end - and a day or so later he wrote an opinion piece in the Wall Street Journal which also excoriated the ex-President over the insurrection.  McConnell spoke out against Trump in order to let the important donors know that the adults were once again in charge of the Republican Party.

Trump, of course, fired back.   He issued a statement (obviously written by someone with a more expansive vocabulary than his own) calling his former court-packing accomplice "a dour, sullen, and unsmiling political hack."   Then he went after Elaine saying that the McConnell family had "substantial Chinese business holdings," a not-so-subtle reference to the Chao family's shipping firm that is linked to Chinese state companies.

The former lovestruck duo, who between them filled one-third of the Supreme Court and a multitude of federal judgeships, is breaking up - and not in a polite way.  It's already a loud and messy split, and, with any luck at all, it will get worse.   Spill those family secrets, guys, as you struggle for custody of your party.  Drag that dirty laundry out and hang it from the rooftops.  And never - ever - forget:  it's not about what's right for the country, it's about you keeping your power!

Now fill those buckets with warm, aromatic manure and start slinging.  America will cheer you on!

Ancestor Archives: Samuel James Roark (1855-1925)

by Rocky Macy

(Note:  There are several references in this profile regarding either locations or actions in Newton or McDonald Counties, and some may feel that the profiler spends too much effort delineating between the two counties.  Newton County is to the north and adjacent to McDonald County.  The townships in both counties that join in the area where Sam and Nancy ROARK grew up – her in Newton County and him in McDonald County - are both called “Buffalo,” so locations can tend to get confusing.   Also, once they married, Sam and Nancy’s home was in Buffalo Township of McDonald County, but they owned land on both sides of the county line.  I have tried to be specific with county references in order to benefit future family researchers who might be digging through documents, such as property or tax records, which are filed by county.  Apologies in advance . . . )

 

Samuel James ROARK was born in Missouri (probably in Granby Township of Newton County) on February 25, 1855.   His parents, William Carroll ROARK and Comfort POE ROARK, and six older siblings had arrived in Missouri from Allen County, Kentucky, sometime between 1852 and 1855, and Sam was their first child born in Missouri.  Four others would follow for a total of eleven children.
 
Sam ROARK married Nancy Anthaline SCARBROUGH at the home of her uncle, William C. SMITH of Buffalo Township, Newton County, Missouri, on December 10^th, 1876.   The bride, who had been orphaned at a young age, grew up in the home of her maternal uncle, William C. SMITH, and his wife, Lucinda, along with her siblings.  
 
Sam ROARK passed away on November 30, 1925.  His death certificate lists the place of death as Newton County, Missouri, but one of his grandchildren, Sam NUNN, who knew his grandparents, related that the event actually took place in McDonald County – and his obituary states that he died at home, which would have been near the community of Hart in McDonald County – although the obituary misreported it as being in Newton County.)
 
US census records reveal that young Sam was living with his family in Granby Township of Newton County, Missouri, when that 1860 census for that area was taken on August 2, 1860, when Sam was five-years-old.  By 1870 the family had relocated to what the census taker referred to as “Elk Township” in McDonald County, and Sam would remain a resident of McDonald County for the remainder of his life.  (There was no “Elk Township” in McDonald County, and the census taker was probably referring to “Elkhorn” Township or possibly “Elk River” Township.) By the time the 1880 census Sam and Nancy, his bride of four years, were at home in Buffalo Township of McDonald County along with a daughter, Lucinda Comfort ROARK.
 
The couple actually had one child prior to Lucinda Comfort.  James W. “Jimmie” ROARK was born in 1877 and passed away in 1879.   He was probably James William ROARK, named for Nancy’s younger brother, James William SCARBROUGH, who was still living at the home of their uncle, William C. SMITH, at that time.
 
Sam and Nancy went on to have nine more children, for a total of eleven, the same number that his parents had.   Sam and Nancy’s children included:   James W.  (1877-1879), Lucinda Comfort (1879-1935), John Henry 1881-1942), Robert Austin (1883-1953), Samuel Lafayette (1886 - 1918), Nancy Jane (my grandmother) (1889-1953), Lilly B. (1890-1892), Martha Carol (1893-1978), Claude Smith (1896-1960), Mary Melinda (1898-1964), and Nathan Wilbert (1902-1950).
 
Of the nine children of Sam and Nancy ROARK who reached adulthood, Claude Smith ROARK was the only one to remain single.   Lucinda Comfort married Fred G. WILSON, John Henry married Phoebe GRUNDEN, Robert Austin became the husband of Sylvia BUZZARD, Samuel LaFayette married Bertha BAILEY, Nancy Jane became the wife of Daniel A. SREAVES, Martha Carol married Peter B. NUNN, Mary Melinda wed Ernest C. TUCKER, and Nathan Wilbert married Virgie ELLIS.
 
Sam ROARK was a farmer, but he occasionally managed to make it into town.   There are several mentions of him in local newspapers stating that he had spent a certain days in either Neosho or Pineville “on business.”   Usually in those mentions he was referred to as being from “Anderson,” the closest community of any size to his home.
 
I also found an article in the October 20, 1922, issues of the “Neosho Daily Democrat” (page 4) telling of the case of Samuel ROARK versus James DALE regarding Mr. ROARK’s attempt to claim damages from an automobile accident that had occurred the previous August.   There was one other Samuel ROARK mentioned occasionally in the news, a cattle trader from Carthage.
 
The newspaper article did not make it clear which Samuel ROARK was involved in the civil suit.  However, at about that same time, Nancy A. ROARK, the wife of Sam ROARK from McDonald County, was the lead plaintiff in a lawsuit over the estate of her uncle, William C. SMITH – so it may just be that Sam and Nancy ROARK, at that time in their lives, were prone to be litigious.  
 
I never pictured my great-grandfather, Sam ROARK, who farmed his whole life and died in 1925, either owning or operating a car, but he could have.  It could have also been possible that he was a pedestrian, or in a wagon, or on horseback, and was injured as the result of an encounter with an automobile. 
 
The Samuel ROARK who was involved in the accident won his court case and was awarded damages of one hundred and forty-five dollars.  (Nancy lost hers.)
 
Sam NUNN (mentioned above) was the son of Martha Carol ROARK and her husband Pete NUNN.  He wrote a profile on the ROARK family for the McDonald County Sesquicentennial (1849-1999) Family Histories book.  In that fine piece Sam NUNN had this to say about his grandparents’ farm:

 

“Samuel James and Nancy A. Roark lived their entire married life on a farm in McDonald County, Missouri.  They also owned land across the line in Newton County, Missouri.

 

“They lived in Roark Valley.  His parents and two brothers owned farms in Roark Valley.  The farms all joined together with one being in Newton County, Missouri.  Roark Branch flows through the farms, and (crosses beneath) Highway 43 in Newton County, Missouri.  The highway department has a sign marking the branch.”

 

Sam NUNN also noted at the time he wrote the article for the sesquicentennial book (1999) that descendants of Sam and Nancy ROARK were living in Washington, Oregon, California, Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, Florida, Arkansas, Idaho, and Missouri.
 
I interviewed my mother, Ruby “Florine” SREAVES MACY about her grandparents in 1983 just a couple of years before she passed away.  Mom, who would have been four-years-old at the time of her Grandfather ROARK’s death, said that she had no memories of him, but that she could remember going to his funeral.  She said that she carried flowers, and then added that all of the granddaughters carried “flower barriers” or “whatever you called them.”
 
The following obituary ran in the “Anderson News Review” newspaper out of Anderson, McDonald County, Missouri:
 

“Samuel Roark Dies”
 
“Samuel James Roark, an old citizen of Newton County, died at his home on Swars Prairie last Monday morning.  He was buried Tuesday last in the Baptist cemetery at Swars Prairie.  He was seventy-one years old at the time of his death and had lived in that community for many years.  He was stricken by paralysis two years ago and had almost recovered when he was stricken again a short time before his death.”

 
(The obituary not only had his county of residence wrong, it also incorrectly listed his age, which would have been seventy.)
 
Sam and Nancy are at rest in the Swars Prairie Baptist Cemetery, the place where his parents, Nancy’s guardians from her youth, several of Sam’s siblings, and numerous descendants of Sam and Nancy are also buried.  Anyone wishing to do family research on the southwest Missouri ROARK family or the SREAVES family would be well advised to start there – and plan on spending awhile!

Where in the World Is Ted Cruz?

by Pa Rock

Citizen Journalist

Just two days ago - on Tuesday - 89-year-old Texas resident and news legend Dan Rather tweeted that he and his wife were without electricity at their Austin home, but were more fortunate than some because they still had running water.  Rather knew that the water pipes of many Texans were frozen and many would break by the time they thawed - and some households would then face flooding issues.  Yesterday Rather was still cranked-up and tweeting:

"Apparently America can put a man on the moon but Texas can't keep the lights on.  Houston, we have a problem."

I haven't heard any updates on the personal situation facing Dan Rather and his wife, but it looks as though they are surviving and Mr. Rather is still managing to maintain his sense of humor.   After social media lit up this morning with stories - and photos - of Texas Senator Ted Cruz and his wife, Heidi, flying south for a resort vacation in Cancun, Mexico, Dan Rather posted this gem on Twitter:

"There's an old Texas saying: When the going gets tough, the tough go to Cancun. (No, there actually is no such saying)." 

Many years ago I had to good fortune to visit Cancun in February.  It was warm and lovely. 

America's premier fact-checkers, snopes.com, hasn't weighed in yet on the veracity of the claim that Ted and Heidi Cruz are in Cancun, but if he isn't there, no one seems to know where he is.  However, the location of Cruz's 2018 senate challenger, Beto O'Rourke, is known.   Beto is in his hometown of El Paso, Texas, where he is working diligently to connect people with warming centers.

Beto is out on the streets saving lives - and Ted isn't.

'Nuff said.

The Snow Still Blows

by Pa Rock
Farmer in Winter

Yesterday my son dug snow from around the car so that he could get me to a medical appointment in the morning.  It wasn't a critical appointment, but the doctor had come to work, so I felt like his patient should, too.  I was almost completely out of bird feed - sunflower seeds - so Nick went to the feed store while I was in the doctor's office.  After we got home from that trek of several miles through the snow - most of the roads still were snow covered - I was sitting by the front room window typing and watching the birds gather at the feeders when my good neighbor, Rex, suddenly pulled into my drive on his tractor and proceeded to plow the driveway!  It looked great by the time Rex left and headed on down the road to take care of the rest of his friends.

And then last night, of course, it snowed another couple of inches and is still snowing as the clock edges toward noon today.  The driveway is once again white, the bird feeders need attention, and the cats are hunkered down in the chicken coop - in the part that didn't collapse from the snowfall - waiting on someone to bring them their breakfast - which will now be more of a brunch or lunch than the predawn breakfast they used to enjoy.

This is Wednesday.  Two days from now - Friday - is the day that me and 2,800 others are scheduled to be at the Civic Center for our second COVID shot.  I'm not worried about getting there, not yet anyway, because I will figure something out.  But I am worried that the massive staff required to make the inoculation clinic work will not be able to get there and get set up - and then what???

But on the positive side, power is still on throughout my community and my house is warm - and the cupboards are stocked.  

May every Texan soon be enjoying the warmth and comfort that so many of us take for granted.

Winter can be beautiful - and also deadly - and the snow still blows!

If Hypocrisy was a Flower, the GOP Would be in Full Bloom!

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Rachel Maddow's blog ran an interesting piece yesterday that compared the way some members of Congress voted on two separate impeachments:  those of Bill Clinton in 1998-1999, and the just completed Trump impeachment and Senate trial.  Just over twenty years separate the two events, which means there are people serving in the House and Senate who were around for both.

First of all, with regard to a comparison of the charges, Maddow quoted lawyer George Conway, Kellyanne's outspoken husband, who termed it this way:

"As someone who knows something about what happened 22 years ago, I can state unequivocally that there's no equivalence and no comparison between Clinton's lying about consensual sex in a civil case and Trump's attempt to overturn constitutional democracy."

Nicely put, George.

Bill Clinton was impeached by the House on two counts, both related to his attempted cover-up of sexual dalliances.  One count said that he had perjured himself before a grand jury, and the other count centered on obstruction of justice.  Two other proposed charges were voted down in the House.  The Republicans controlled the House, and Speaker Newt Gingrich had been assured by a private polling firm that pursuing an impeachment of Clinton would result in GOP gains in the House of up to thirty seats.    Instead, that November (1998) as the House was pursuing impeachment charges, the Democrats picked up five seats.  They were still in the minority, but the embarrassment was too great for Gingrich who announced his pending resignation from Congress.    Louisiana Congressman Bob Livingston was his replacement-designate, but Livingston, too, had to step aside when it was revealed that he had had an extra-marital affair.    Other sexual indiscretions by GOP congressmen were revealed as well during that time.

When the Articles of Impeachment were brought to the Senate floor for a trial in early 1999, the Senate make-up consisted on fifty-five Republicans and forty-five Democrats.   Both Articles against Clinton needed a two-thirds vote (sixty-seven) in order to convict.  Article One, that of perjury before a grand jury, failed by a vote of 45 "yea" to 55 "nay," with all Democrats voting "nay" along with ten Republicans.  Article Two, Obstruction of Justice, failed on a fifty-fifty vote with five Republicans joining the Democrats in voting it down.

Bill Clinton won the day, while Newt Gingrich, Bob Livingston, Henry Hyde and a couple of others in Congress clearly lost.

But there were four GOP senators who voted "yea" on both Articles of Impeachment on Clinton who are still in the Senate and saw fit to vote "nay" on convicting Donald Trump of what many see as a far more serious and provable offense - fomenting an insurrection against a co-equal branch of government, an act which placed the well-being and lives of members of Congress and Senators in danger.   Those four were Mike Crapo of Idaho, Chuck Grassley of Nebraska, Jim Mountain Inhofe of Oklahoma, and Mitch McConnell of Kentucky.  Senator Richard Shelby, a Republican of Alabama, voted for convicting Clinton on one Article of Impeachment and then voted to acquit Trump two decades later.

Susan Collins of Maine was the lone Republican Senator who went the other way.  She voted to acquit Clinton and convict Trump.

Interestingly Mike Crapo was a member of the House when the Articles of Impeachment were passed - and he supported them there, and then he was promoted to the Senate in time to vote to convict Clinton on both charges there.

Several other GOP Members of the House voted to impeach Bill Clinton, and then by the time Trump was impeached they were serving as US Senators where they voted to acquit him:  That group included Roy Blunt of Missouri, Lindsey Graham of South Carolina, Jerry Moran of Kansas, Rob Portman of Ohio, John Thune of South Dakota, and Roger Wicker of Mississippi.

And one more note regarding my senior Missouri senator, Roy Blunt.   Ol' Roy is nothing if not sanctimonious, and less than five years after voting to impeach Bill Clinton over matters rooted in sexual conduct, Blunt filed for divorce from his wife of thirty-five years, the mother of his children - and less than six months after the divorce was granted he married a pretty and much younger Washington, DC, lobbyist.

Matters involving sex seem to shock Republicans, until all of that nasty stuff affects them directly, but the overthrow of democracy and constitutional government - not so much.

If hypocrisy was a flower, the GOP would be in full bloom!

The Snow Blows

by Pa Rock
Farmer in Winter

When I arrived at The Roost in early March of 2014 I had to spend some time breaking ice off of the cement back porch so that I could make it safely into the house with the items that had been crammed in the car with me all the way from Arizona.  There was still snow on the ground from a fairly substantial snowstorm, snow that had chased me out of Texas and forced to spend a couple days in Kansas City before making it on to my new home in the Ozarks.  

The Ozarks did not experience any significant snowfall for the next seven years - until today.  Last Thursday the temperatures slid into the freezing range, and  the sleet which fell most of that day formed a hard and very slick shield over everything.    It wasn't until yesterday that the roads cleared enough to where I felt that I could safely make it into town to visit the ATM and pick up a couple of prescriptions at the Walgreen's drive-up window.  My windshield wipers were frozen solid and it took most of the trip before they finally broke loose.  My windows were also frozen closed, a fact I did not realize until I pulled up at the ATM.  I had to park out of the way and then walk back to the banking machine to do my business.  I assumed I would have to put on a mask and walk into Walgreen's, but the driver's side window broke loose as I was pulling into the store's parking lot.

Then I headed for home and waited on the snow which started falling that afternoon.  It was light, but what fell stayed and slowly began to accumulate.  (The temperature since Thursday has been single digits, positive and negative, always havering near zero.)   Forecasts a couple of days ago called for as much as two-feet of the white stuff, but those numbers kept coming down as the winter blast got closer.  Today we have about two inches of snow on the ground with drifts up to a foot in depth, and a blowing light snow in the air.  The temperature is still right at zero, so what hits the ground blows around but does not melt.  

The snow, it blows!

The bird feeders in my front yard are hoping with cardinals, woodpeckers, finches, and sparrows.  One hungry squirrel stopped by but soon decided to get back to the warmth of wherever he was sleeping - perhaps in a snug corner of my old red barn.  At some point fairly soon I will have to traipse out into the wind and snow to refill the feeders.

This winter storm appears to be everywhere.  I heard on the radio that every county in Texas is suffering a winter "emergency" and that President Biden is sending federal relief to the state.  My daughter in Oregon sent photos to me of the mammoth evergreen trees that surround her house and are now bent to the ground under the weight of ice.  She said that power has been out in much of her city - Salem (Oregon's capital) - for the past couple of days and that many residents have moved into motels.  (The power at Molly's house was just out for a couple of hours, so she and hr family were able to remain at home.)    Chainsaws and tree-trimming are apparently the order of the day in Salem, Oregon.

When Google Snoop Mail saw that Molly had included photos, Gmail assumed they were of grandkids, or perhaps pets, and gave me three automatic replies:  "Very Nice!"  "Love it!"  and  "So Cute!"  So Molly, your wintermageddon is very nice and so cute!  I love it!   Well, I may not actually love it, but apparently some soulless algorithm at Google does!

But love it or lump it, winter is here and it's a blast . . .  from the Arctic!

Doctor Valentine

by Pa Rock
Former Teacher

This is Valentine's Day, a holiday, a day for sharing love and messages of love, often in the form of elaborate cards, heart-shaped boxes of chocolates, roses-by-the-dozens, fancy dinners in expensive restaurants, and sometimes even memorable events such as marriage proposals or actual weddings.

But the day isn't just all hearts and flowers, it also stirs darker memories like the infamous gangland murder of several rum-running mobsters in a Chicago garage in 1929, an event known in history as the "Saint Valentine's Day Massacre," and the more recent Parkland school shooting in Florida that occurred three years ago today when a former student armed with automatic weaponry entered the main high school building where he killed seventeen students and teachers, and wounded seventeen more.  Parkland was (and is) an affluent and well educated community, and the shooting there stirred a level of student anti-gun activism that was unmatched in previous mass shootings.  Today many of those former high school students are in college and are still active in the national push to enact commonsense gun safety reforms.

All of which makes Valentine's Day a day of love and happy thoughts as well as a time of remembrance and getting to work on things that matter,  Our nation's new First Lady, Dr. Jill Biden, a professional educator, saw the holiday as a time to begin addressing the bitter wounds that divide our nation.  Sometime in the wee hours of this past Friday morning, Dr. Biden slipped quietly out of the White House and began putting up large valentines on the yard for her fellow Americans to see and appreciate over the Valentine's Day weekend.  Her large heart-shaped posters contained words and messages of healing, hope, and love.

Teachers decorate for the holidays, that's what they do, it's in their DNA - and Jill Biden is a teacher.  She had something important to say and she presented it in the way she knew best.  It was a message about her love for America and our love for each other, and it is still on display on the White House lawn for the whole world to see and appreciate.  

It's Valentine's Day, and it's definitely a new day in America! 

Thoughts on Democracy

by Pa Rock

Citizen Journalist

I am tired of the contemptuous evil and the moral degeneracy that is Donald John Trump, and for the past week I have tried to avoid, at least in this blog, the second Senate trial of the man who for four years sought to divide us as a people and to destroy us as a nation.

It now looks as though the Senate will fall at least ten votes short of the sixty-seven needed to convict Donald Trump of the crime of inciting an insurrection against the very government whose Constitution he had sworn to uphold.   Some of the Republicans who will stand by the man who put their lives at risk will do so because they believe it is unconstitutional to impeach a President who has already left office (or so they say), and others believe that Trump was within his rights to say anything he pleased because of 1st Amendment protections, death and destruction be damned. 

But now there are stories circulating about a different reason that some senators may vote to acquit:  fear of retaliation by Trump supporters.   Not voter retaliation, but actual physical retaliation by low-intellect bullies with guns against sitting United States Senators and their families.

If we have reached that point we might as well close down the United States of America and reopen under another name.  Is "Nicaragua" still in use?

Donald Trump lost an election, and he does not like to lose.  His answer to that loss was to deny it.  He claimed to have been cheated, never mind that almost all of the states where he felt he was cheated were controlled by members of his own political party.  He tried to bully election officials into changing results - to no avail, and he tried to have courts throw out election results - again, to no avail.  He roared about cheating, but never produced any credible evidence that votes had been rigged.  He just did not like the results.  Donald Trump was at war with democracy, a war that he ultimately lost.

Perhaps we owe Donald Trump a debt of gratitude for showing us how a despot operates, and that even something as rugged and enduring as our Constitution is subject to insidious attack from within.  

Godspeed to the prosecutors around the nation in places like New York and Georgia who are using their offices to clean up part of the mess that the national government has seen fit ignore - and godspeed to the individuals who have suffered personal injury from Donald Trump as they slowly make their way through a court system that often seems designed to protect the privileged.

The United States Senate may dodge its responsibilities to the Constitution and the American people - again - but the American people will ultimately win out.   Democracy is our heritage and our future.  It must be preserved!

Winter Has Arrived and There's Chili in the Crockpot!

by Pa Rock
Farmer in Winter

It took awhile to get here, but winter has definitely arrived in my part of the Ozarks.  It sleeted two days ago, and we have had a hard crust of ice on the ground ever since.  The paved road out front is passable today, but yesterday a couple of different drivers slid off of the road within view of my house.  I went to town for a dental appointment Monday morning and haven't left home since.  Alexa says that is's eighteen degrees outside right now, and that it may get up to twenty-eight.  Snow is forecast for Sunday and Monday which should settle in nicely atop off of this accursed ice!

I went out and fed the cats this morning - and walked extremely gingerly on the ice.  (One more broken bone would probably get me a one-way ticket to "the home!")   I have four cats now that Mother Fiona has left the stage.  They include one enormous yellow tom who only shows up a few times a month, one fairly large yellow tom who seldom leaves, and is usually in the chicken coop or the barn - which is where I want him, and two adolescent toms, another yellow and a black.  The black tomcat looks as though he, too, will eventually be enormous.  

Despite all of the bitter cold I have been able to maintain my 10,000 steps a day health regimen as well as my in-home physical therapy for last spring's broken arm.  It is not yet noon, and I have already clocked over 6,800 steps for the day.  Of course now I am sitting at the computer, and soon I will shift to lunch and reading and possibly even watching a television program or two, so the steps will level off, and by bedtime tonight - always early - I will be somewhere between 10,000 and 12,000 steps for the day.  Then by the time the sun rises tomorrow I will already be up and stepping off a new day.

And the big news today is that I have homemade chili in the crockpot.  After feeding the cats at daylight, I came in and began browning hamburger and onions.  (My son bought half-a-beef from one of his friends, so we currently have plenty of lean hamburger!)  Then I dug through the pantry and came up with kidney beans and chili beans, a can of diced green-chili tomatoes, a couple of cans of tomato sauce, and some good Williams Chili Seasoning - and wal-la - there is chili simmering in the crockpot!  (My mother always said that Williams was the best chili seasoning, and, IMHO, she was right!)

And now as the clock inches closer to noon, I am ready for a bowl of steaming hot chili!

Ancestor Archives: Mary Jane Ellis (1866-1936)

by Rocky Macy

I would like to begin this profile of one of my maternal great-grandmothers, Mary Jane ELLIS SREAVES, by sharing a beautiful remembrance that one of her granddaughters wrote sometime during the mid-1980’s.  That writer, my first cousin , once removed – Mary SREAVES CLOTFELTER of Monett, Missouri - submitted her tribute to the literary magazine at Crowder College in Neosho, Missouri, where it received the “Gold Quill Award” for the best submission from a member of the community.  I used it with Mary Clotfelter’s permission in my newspaper genealogy column, “Rootbound in the Hills,” on June 28, 1988, and in this blog nearly twenty years later that on April 11, 2008.   Now, nearly thirteen more years have passed and here it is again!  Please enjoy!

 "Made from Scratch"

by Mary SREAVES CLOTFELTER

Since I have been appointed to help compile a "centennial cookbook," I remember my widowed paternal grandmother who was a "scratch cook," and wish I had her recipe for horehound candy. Beginning with the leaves of the horehound plants that grew beside her chicken house, she produced pieces of medicinal cough candy which became the forerunner of today's molded cough drops.

Then there was her smothered chicken, which she served when her large family returned home for big pot-luck family dinners on Sunday. Since Grandma hatched her own eggs, she had a surplus of roosters, and they, one by one, became the main dish for those special occasions. Hen's were granted a reprieve because they were destined to become layers of eggs for breakfast, ingredients for the good sorghum cakes Grandma made, and, most importantly, farm income.

Most young roosters are elusive birds and prone to making erratic turns and skids, sometimes becoming airborne when pursued. This made capture difficult for a grandmother past her prime. As a result, Grandma had a "chicken catcher," a long bamboo fishing pole with a wire noose attached at the end. With the aid of this contraption, the target rooster never lived to crow another morning, but did utter a few squawks when he was beheaded. This, of course, was the beginning of Grandma's smothered chicken, a real meat stretcher of tender fowl covered with some sort of steaming cream gravy and seasoned with a pinch of this and that. I wish I knew the spices she used.

I also remember the rich blackberry jelly Grandma made from berries she foraged, scratch by scratch, from her rocky hillsides. This delicacy, combined with sweet cream butter churned daily, spread atop a warm slice of her fresh sourdough bread, was a treat to be remembered by her grandchildren, and then passed on! Her house always had a lingering smell of all the good things she had cooked from scratch on her old wood stove.

Now as I reminisce, I realize Grandma was a real "made from scratch" pioneer filled with fortitude and grit. Perhaps it was passed down to her from her ancestors, the earliest settlers of Nantucket Island, and the other hardy folks, including native Americans, who had added to her gene pool along the way. Then there was the circumstance of providence which had helped to give her a preserving spirit.

I wish my children and their children had known this gentle, brave lady, Mary Jane SREAVES, who chose to spend her remaining years on her wilderness land and face the thorns of life. Now owned by the Missouri Department of Conservation and the people of Missouri, it has been set aside as a natural history area.

Little did Grandma know that the last residents of her land would be the wild things, but I think some of her Indian heritage would cause her to be pleased. The wild plum thickets drop their overripe fruit on the ground, the blueberries stain the mouths of the creatures who relish them, and the blackberry brambles cover the old paths and encroach upon the abandoned garden. Daffodils mark the edge of Grandma's long-ago yard, and the sweet smell of her lilacs permeates the springtime air.

 

 

Mary Jane ELLIS was born in Huntsville, Madison County, Arkansas, on October 12, 1866, the daughter of William J. ELLIS and Matilda J. COOK.    She married Alexander SREAVES on January 15, 1888 in Arkansas.  Mary Jane passed away at the home of her daughter, Ethel, in Newton County, Missouri, on March 15, 1936, at the age of sixty-nine.
 
Mary Jane’s life can basically be divided into two parts:  the Arkansas half and the Missouri half.   Up until sometime in her thirty-fifth year she lived in and around the small community of Huntsville, Arkansas.  She was born in Huntsville, and that is where she and Alex began their married life and started their family.  But something serious and unexpected happened in 1901, reportedly a conflict with a neighbor, that caused the SREAVES’ family to suddenly pack up and head north to Missouri.  They settled in McDonald County, the southwest corner county of Missouri, where Mary Jane and Alex were destined to live out the rest of their days.
 
Five children were born to Mary Jane and Alex while they were living in and around Huntsville, Arkansas:  Daniel Alexander  (1888-1972)  (my grandfather), William “Jess” (1890-1956) (Mary Clotfelter’s father), Ira “Jackson” (1892-1928), Ethel May (1895-1982), and Fannie Matilda (1898-1990).  After settling in Missouri, the couple had two more children:  Alice Christine (1902-1944), and Lula Elizabeth (1904-1983).
 
All of the children grew up and married local people with the exceptions of Jackson who was born with a heart defect and never married, and Alice Christine who married Henning G. Anderson and moved with him back to his home state of Nebraska.  Henning was a cousin of Harry B. Anderson who married Alice’s oldest sister, Ethel.
 
Of the other children, Daniel Alexander married (1) Nancy Jane “Sis” ROARK (my grandmother, whom he outlived), and 2.  Martha Adeline THOMPSON ROARK;  Jess married Lula Mae ANDERTON;  Fannie Matilda married Andrew “Joe” ULMER;  and, Lula Elizabeth married Wesley “Wess” Robert KELLEY.
 
More than eighty years after the family came to Missouri in two covered wagons, daughter Fannie wrote about the trip and their early years in McDonald County.  Her  brief family history was published in this blog on February 1, 2021. Fannie’s account says that the family moved in two covered wagons, with the second being handled by Mary Jane’s younger brother, Tommy ELLIS.  She said that they camped out three nights before arriving at their new home in McDonald County.
 
One of my favorite story’s in Fannie’s account is when her mother, Mary Jane, left a basket of eggs sitting atop her sewing machine, and the family’s pet raccoon got into the eggs and began throwing them on the floor.  She said “Mama whipped the raccoon!” Her recollections of those early days in Missouri also describe other animals that played important roles in the family – like their dogs and horses.
 
Although it is unclear how much formal education Mary Jane had, entries in the US Census indicate that both she and Alex could read and write.   Education appeared to be valued in their household.  My grandfather, Dan SREAVES attended a one-room school before the family left Arkansas, and Fannie’s family history makes references to schools the kids attended in Missouri.  At one point she said “we all finished school at Hart” and then she went on to describe it as being a two-room school with grades one-through-four in one room and grades five-through-eight in the other.  While the SREAVES boys went on to farm, two of the girls, Ethel and Alice became school teachers, and Lula ran a successful business with her husband.
 
Alex passed away in April of 1927 and Mary Jane continued to live on their farm for almost nine years before she died.  Family stories indicate that she worked hard during that time taking care of the place as well as the necessary livestock such as her pair of work horses, Dolly and Ribbon, both mares.  My mother related that her father, Dan SREAVES, bought Dolly and Ribbon after the death of his mother.   Granddad SREAVES wanted to make sure that his mother’s horses were never mistreated, and he never let anyone else work them except himself.  Mom said that each of the mares, Dolly and Ribbon, had a colt while her dad owned them.  Granddad SREAVES kept his mother’s horses until they died.

Although I never met Mary Jane ELLIS SREAVES, I know what she looked like because a large oval framed photograph of her always hung on the wall in my grandfather's house.  His wife, Nancy Jane "Sis" had it made from a small photo of his mother, and she gave it to my granddad at a big surprise birthday party that was attended by much of the community.  It was one of his treasures.
 
As mentioned earlier, Mary Jane ELLIS SREAVES passed away at the home of her daughter, Ethel, just across the line in Newton County, Missouri, on March 15, 1936.  It is likely that Ethel provided the information which follows, but it is odd that the obituary failed to mention Mary Jane's son, Jackson, who had preceded his parents in death, and two of her daughters who were still living at the time of their mother’s death:  Fannie and Alice.  Those omissions were likely the fault of the newspaper.
 
This obituary was taken from the “Miami News Record” of Miami, Oklahoma, dated Wednesday, March 18, 1936 – page five:

 

“Death of Mrs. Sreaves

 

“Mrs. Mary Jane Sreaves 69 years old, died March 15 at the home of her daughter, Mrs. Harry Anderson, on Swars Prairie.  Besides Mrs. Anderson, she is survived by a daughter, Mrs. Wes Kelley, and two sons, Dan and Jesse Sreaves, all of the Swars Prairie community.  Funeral services will be held at the Swars Pairie Methodist Church, conducted by the pastor, the Rev. G.M. Foster of Seneca. Burial will be in the Swars Prairie Cemetery under the direction of Buzzard Undertakers.”

Another true pioneer had been laid to rest. 

(Note:  While many of the SREAVES attended church at the Swars Prairie Methodist, almost all of the ones who remained on Swars Prairie appear to be buried at the Swars Prairie Baptist Church cemetery, including Alex and Mary SREAVES.  The cemetery at the Baptist Church seems to function as the primary cemetery for the residents of that community, regardless of their church affiliation.)