The end of our family's presence.

In l872 our Williamson great-grandparents and their  family homesteaded in Saunders County. There were no trees. Nebraska's land was virgin prairie with grasses six feet tall. Children got lost in it. Pioneers who buried their treasures overnight, couldn't always find them in the morning, but they persevered carving out homes and lives. Great Grandmother, Charity Williamson, was a mid-wife. In the only picture we have of them, she and her husband, George Washington Williamson, looked jolly. One story was passed down about her. Some kid had his ear almost cut off. She held it in place until it healed with the lining in an eggshell.

The land was harsh, unforgiving. Grandma Mae Simmons Williamson was from Lynn, Kansas. She remembered being frightened by Indians coming to their home. She and her brothers hid under the bed. Her mother gave the Indians bread and whatever else she had.

As a grown woman, Grandma had a fear of iron bridges. If we didn't put her in the middle seat, she'd get out and walk across the Platte River bridge.

Both sides of our father's Swedish ancestors homesteaded in Saunders County, too. His mother, Ann, is my namesake, and I look like her. She died when he was eighteen months old.

I moved to Mississippi with the pioneering spirits of my grandmother's Mae and Ann. When my sister moves to Virginia, it will end our family's 150 years presence in Saunders County. It makes me sad. I miss the cemetery. I can call and talk to everybody else. My  Nebraska friends are my anchors to my roots.

2012 Red Convertible Travel Series

How does love find us?

Our maternal grandparents were unacquainted in Illinois. As young children their families packed up their covered wagons and headed west in the late 1800's. Grandpa's family homesteaded in southeast Nebraska, Grandma's in northeast Kansas.

Settled on the prairie, Mae took piano lessons at home from a traveling pianist. All was well until he made unwanted advances. She and her girlfriend switched two of his buggy wheels making the buggy lopsided. He left and never came back. At sixteen Mae took the teaching test and was certified as a teacher. Several of her students were older than she, typical of a farming community and the times.

LeRoy learned to play the fiddle and harmonica for himself and dances. In 1910 he joined a wheat threshers crew to work from Nebraska into northern Kansas, about 100 miles. One of the crew's favorite meals was roasted prairie chicken. Of course, they had to catch and kill it, coat it with thick mud, dig a fire pit and roast it.

Near Linn, Kansas they set up their machinery for the Simons. Mae, her mother and two other women cooked for the crew four times a day for two days. Resting in the shade of the thresher, LeRoy stopped mid-bite on his thick slices of fresh bread slathered with sweet cream butter and quince jam when a young woman crossed the farmyard carrying a pail for water. He had to meet her.

Mae was cutting cake when she noticed a man ride through the yard toward the watering tank. That was odd. The thresher was the opposite direction. He took off his hat and wiped his brow. Dark wavy hair flowed over his collar, a young man.

Music drifted up to the house at dusk. Mae peaked out through a curtain. Some thresher was playing Turkey in the Straw on a harmonica. A pleasant distraction, soothing after a long hot day. Dancing music. Toe tapping at the least. She sighed. If only. Her father was concerned no one had asked her to wed. 'Ought to be married by now,' her brothers said. Not even a promise. Two locals were interested, but she wasn't.

When the threshers finished and were packing up to move to the next farm, a man came to the house and tipped his hat. "Thank you ladies for your hospitality. We'll be going now."
Mother was surprised and pleased, a man with manners. "Do come in. Mae, come fix a sack for, what's your name?"
"LeRoy, Ma'am."
Mae saw him and gasped. The dark-haired yard rider had twinkly, dark eyes. Handsome. He nodded, "Afternoon Miss." It was all she could do to shut her mouth and nod. Heart pounding she gathered two loaves of fresh bread. If he could just look into her eyes, he could see if she was interested. She handed him the bread, looked up quickly and blushed. He could see her heart pounding through her high-necked blue dress. So was his. "I'd best be going. Much obliged, Miss." Breathless, she followed him to the porch. He mounted his roan, looked softly at her and said, "I'll be back." A half-smile crossed his face.

Stunned, she watched him out of sight, her heart filling with hope. Doubt crept in. He doesn't know I'm too old. It would never work. He lives in Nebraska, but if he comes back, it's meant to be. I'll keep busy with school. Her fourth year.

January of 1911 Mae was in the kitchen, as usual, when her father answered the door. A man asked for her. She frowned, wiped her hands on her apron and went to the parlor. It was him, LeRoy. She could have fainted, but Simons' women didn't. Her father saw her blush and excused himself.

When they were alone, LeRoy's eyes pierced hers. "I said I'd be back." She blushed and nodded unable to speak. A knot the size of a loaf of bread sat in her stomach. Flustered, she asked, "Would you like some feefee and tea take?"
He laughed. "I don't know about the feefee, but I'd drink some buttermilk and taste your tea take." She shut her eyes in embarrassment and tried to stifled a laugh.

Two days later they were married in her parlor. He took her back to his home in Nebraska where they loved, laughed and supported each other 58 years. This year would have been their 98th anniversary.

How does love find us? Love finds a way.

2009 Red Convertible Travel Series

Traveling Furniture

Ours has logged more miles than we have. Occasional furniture it's called. Occasionally we need it for a project or an illness. We move tables, chairs, benches, anything we can mange, from attic to main floor, to basement, garage, back into the house, up to the attic. Portables would be a better name.

Then there are those pieces that won't go away. A 3 x 4 oak library table has been in the office, garage, basement, for sale and is currently in the basement holding my Eiffel Tower clock.

Covered wagon travelers carried their most prized possessions as far as they could. Some made it all the way to Oregon. However, the trail was littered with what didn't: furniture, dishes, linens, musical instrument, tools, and books books books to name a few. An empty wagon would have been the way to travel.

I can tell Krysia is feeling better; her furniture is on the move.

2008 Red Convertible Travel Series

MAY 2008 MEMORIAL DAY

Each flag represents a fallen veteran from our community, Leonard and George included. Leonard shook his fist when he said, "Freedom is worth fighting for." He should know. He was drafted before WWII and came back when it was over: 4 years, 2 months and 27 days total.

My grandparents called Memorial Day Decoration Day, which it was until 1971 when Congress declared Memorial Day a national holiday. Decoration Day was declared May 30, 1868 to commemorate the sacrifices of Civil War Soldiers.

We decorate our graves with fresh peonies, if we have them. Cool weather can keep the buds from opening and makes the ants work harder. In nature everything has a purpose/job.

My ancestors came from Sweden and England to make a better life. Leonard's came from Moravia. They traveled by covered wagon, broke sod and built barns with pegs not nails. Their dead were buried in unmarked graves along the trails.

As I decorate and contemplate where family "rests," my late husband, Leonard, my parents, grandparents and Aunt Bobbe lived a total of 463 years. Methuselah lived more than 900 years. We are living longer than our ancestors. Do you want to live to be 100, or 150? If I could be assured I would look as good as I did at thirty and feel even better, I might. But what would we do with 40 or more years of retirement? Would we get everything done? Can we afford it?

Contemplate this: It's your 150th birthday. All your descendants come for the party, and the Fire Department, really. Don't worry about accommodations for sleeping, they won't. The problems will be parking, having enough food and toilet paper, and the neighbors. Better invite them too. And have a Happy Birthday!

I hope you have a pleasant and safe Memorial Day.

2008 Red Convertible Travel Series