BACK HOME IN INDIANA

 Ken and I longed for one last visit to my Indiana roots.  As his health deteriorated, we continued to hope but alas, it was not to be.  After his death in January 2022, I expressed a desire to take a trek back in time.  Terri, my daughter, was quick to assure me that she would accompany me and Gary -- my son --  supported our plan.  I consulted my various Doctors who supported me without reservation. 

On July 30, Gary took us to the airport and waited until he was sure that we were in good hands. He watched as our airport attendant rolled me to the departure area.  We had a four-hour connecting flight out of Phoenix during which, I enjoyed my favorite pastime people watching.

At the time I reserved our flight I reserved a car.  Upon texting my family, about the plan, I immediately received a telephone call from my nephew,  David, ordering me to cancel the car rental. He and his brother, Tom, would pick us up at the airport and drive us approximately 90 miles to French Lick.  My friend, and high school classmate, Phyllis Jones Lemon, had generously offered us accommodations in an apartment that she maintains there. 

We arrived in Indianapolis a few minutes late but adjusted for today’s travel standards, on time.  It turned out that David was still suffering residual fatigue from a recent co-vid event and his daughter, my great niece, Katie, and nephew, Tom, were waiting. While Tom drove around the arrival area, Katie met us at baggage claim and helped us to the car.  It was 830PM by the time we were on the road to Bedford.  They delivered us to the Hampton Inn, and Katie extended an invitation for brunch the next day which we accepted.  Once checked in we were quick to relax,  already acclimated to our new time zone.

Sunday morning, Tom picked us up at the hotel and drove us through the scenic countryside by great nephew, Luke's abode, and great nephew, Kyle’s recently built new home.  We stopped and chatted a minute with Kyle who was working in the yard.  After a warm welcome from Katie and Cody, we were introduced to my two great great nephews, Henry almost 3, and Charlie, almost one.  

After a wonderful lunch capped off with multiple desserts, including a banana pudding to die for, we proceeded to French Lick where we were greeted by Barbara, Phyllis’ sister.  Phyllis owns Ballard apartments, and she graciously offered us an apartment for the week. We drove in two cars because my niece was loaning us her car for our use during the week.  Do you get the idea that we were privileged? Everyone enjoyed a short visit but, aware of our two days of activity, were soon off and we were left to unpack and relax. 

Terri and I settled in and Terri went for a walk while I relaxed.  Phyllis's brother -- Eddie -- came by to welcome us “home” and we shared memories of the “old days.  After my mother died in 1947, my father moved us into town.  I was just beginning my sophomore year of high school. Phyllis lived down the street from us and we walked to school together and soon, became great friends.  I became a frequent guest (pest?) in their home.  Her parents and entire family treated me with great kindness and caring.  Although her siblings were younger than I, they remembered me, and I remembered the large, wonderful family where I had enjoyed so many good times.   What a wonderful first day.

Monday was intended to be a “laid back” day in deference to my age and related limitations.  Nephew, Steve called and came by to say hello and give us a welcome hug.  Niece, Debby, texted her welcome and we issued an invitation to visit, and she accepted but first, she had chores to complete.   While we waited for Debby, Terri and I drove over to Milos for breakfast.  Milos now occupies the site previously called The Villager and before that, it was a drive-in restaurant called The Chatterbox, if my memory serves me correctly.  I remember the Chatterbox because it was built and owned by another of my High School friends, Martha Harrison’s grandparents, the Lashbrooks.  They ran the soda fountain in  Deremiah Drug Store during my High School stint!  If my memories do not agree with the facts, these are my memories and for the record, fact should rule over fiction!  Although the restaurant has changed and is only open for breakfast and lunch, I had begun my visit to the haunts and memories of my youth.

Back at the apartment, great nephew, JD, dropped by to welcome us during his lunch break from a business call nearby,  Soon after JD left, Debby arrived. We exchanged greetings and reviewed the latest happenings in our lives.  After bringing each other up to date, we decided to take a brief ride out into the countryside.  The green lush terrain was delightful.  It is something we do not see much of in drought-ridden California.  We drove through the hills of my youth and arrived in Red Quarry, past the farm where I grew up (and the house in which I was born).  We drove past the Church that was the source of my spiritual awakening (for lack of a better name) and to the farm where my Grandparents lived and where my parents lived until circa 1920.  I do not know the exact date they moved to Red Quarry, but my dad’s parents died in 1918 and I believe it was sometime after that.  I know that my four elder siblings, Floyd, Trevor, Thelma, and Dorothy were born there and that both my brother Carl and I were born in the Red Quarry home. The drive back to the homestead site was rather hazardous but Debby is an adventuress driver and was not deterred.  In reviewing this trip with my niece, Zoe, she reminded me that a family by the name of Clark had bought the old home place, which triggered my memory. Sometimes it takes two faulty memories to make a good one!

After our side trip to the old farm, we proceeded on to Powell Valley and over the hill to Rusk where we joined Highway 150 for a trip to Debby’s house which she and her husband recently purchased. It is where she grew up after my brother, Carl, was discharged from the service. Carl purchased the property from another niece and nephew, whose father built the home, so it has strong memories for all in the family. After interrupting Debby’s husband, who works at home we texted nephew David, who had suggested meeting us for dinner earlier, and asked if he and his wife, Becky, would like to meet us at the Lake House in Loogootee for dinner. They texted agreement and said my niece, Joy, would join us as well. On our way to Loogootee, we visited Hindustan Falls where my older brother, Floyd, frequently camped and fished during his youth. After dinner, Debby returned us to French Lick. Our second day in the "hinterlands" was an unequivocal success. 

In a conversation before my trip, David mentioned that he had done a one-day trip to Murfreesboro, TN.  I asked how far that was and he said roughly 250 miles.  I asked if he did that in one day and when he said he did, I asked if he would be willing to drive me there during my Indiana visit.   He agreed to do so.  Our long-time dear friends, Bruce and Gwelda Haselman live in Murfreesboro.  They are extended family, and their family is our family.  We had set Wednesday as the day for the trip to TN and in preparation for the day of travel (4 hours down, four hours there, and four hours back) it was agreed that I would relax and be leisurely on Tuesday.  That is what I did while Terri walked and explored the town.

Wednesday morning, we were ready to travel at 630AM when David and Steve appeared for the trip to Murfreesboro.  We had a comfortable scenic drive to TN.   As we crossed over the Ohio river, I realized that I had forgotten the beauty of the midwest with its many rivers and lush green pastures. The elitists among us may think they are the "end all"  for a good life but have they experienced the beauty of the countryside? 

We arrived in Murfreesboro at 10A.  David  and Steve visited an aunt-in-law in the hospital while Terri and I visited with the  Haselmans.   On their way back from the hospital David and Steve picked up lunch and an ice cream cake for a belated celebration of Gwelda’s birthday.  Kimmy, the youngest Haselman child, and her two sons joined us for lunch and an ever so brief visit back in time.  What wonderful memories we share with the Haselmans. Grudgingly, we left at 2PM as previously agreed upon.  We arrived back in French Lick a little after 7.  I had been skeptical of riding in David's truck for that distance but to my surprise, it was extremely comfortable and I didn’t fall asleep once.   We met Bruce while attending a real estate class in the early 70s.  Later, Ken and Bruce worked together during their weekend "2nd" job. Bruce and Ken became members of an investment group that purchased a ranch in Northern California.  From that association, our friendship grew into many extended activities, real estate partnerships, sailing adventures, vacations together, and in later years many reminisces via phone, texts, and e-mail.  We have shared many good times, adventures, and yes, near disasters. 

Thursday was the day designated for our cemetery tour, a tradition that goes back to my visits home when brothers Trevor and Carl would take me to the cemeteries where the family is buried.  During those outings, they would review with me their memories of the various family members buried there.  It was always an all-day trip, and this day would be no different. 

David rented a van and nine of us (including 3-year-old Henry) left the apartment at 10AM. Our first stop was the Baptist Cemetery where my grandfather, Singleton Pinnick, and many of our ancestors reside.  From there we went to the Ames Chapel Cemetery where my parents, grandmother Murray, brother, Floyd; sister, Dorothy, and her husband Tommy Powell, rest.  Moving on from Ames we went to a cemetery where my Great Great Great Grandfather James D. Pinnick (aka Grandsire) lies. Grandsire (I don’t know where he got that title, but it is the title I have always known him as) served in the Revolutionary War according to stories handed down by past generations, although specific genealogy of the family cannot be tracked. There are suggestions that the family may have been Quaker and thus, Grandsire and his brother may have changed their name or perhaps my ancestry simply crawled out from the proverbial rock.

We then proceeded to Red Quarry for a delightful visit to what will always be my “home”, the house in which I was born and the farm where I grew up and lived until I was 14 years old.  Paul King who now owns the property is always so very kind and generous to visit with me and bring me up to date on changes that he has made.  Ninety-two-year-old Paul acquiesced in my request for a tour of the farm in his “farm cart”.  I delighted in sharing my memories of areas where once an apple orchid stood, gooseberry bushes and raspberry bushes thrived, a grapevine covered a path to the smokehouse and cellar (which still stands) and hen houses occupied space now filled by Paul’s vision.  Paul has a thriving garden of tomatoes, vegetables, and two wonderful persimmon trees as well as he reminded me of the Quarry from which Red Quarry gets its name and the old coal mine that once provided the coal to heat our home.

After our extended visit with Paul and his wife,  Barbara, we stopped at the Red Quarry Church.  Workmen let us into the Church and though it has changed significantly from the Church I attended in my youth, it still brought back man memories of my life as a youth.  My parents were instrumental in the formation of the church and as a youth, I used to look at the pictures of the church in its construction stages and my mother would point out various faces of people who had participated in the construction.  Those pictures (or copies) now hang on the wall at the back of the church, and I enjoyed revisiting the memories of that proud period in my parents’ life.

 We then visited the property where we visited with Debby on Monday.  I also pointed out the location of what I believe to be the log cabin of my father’s maternal Grandparents, Davis and Sarah Emmons, and related my stories of visits to the old log cabin where an aunt-in-law resided during my youth.  

From my semi-fictional reminisces of a story seeking authentication, we drove to the Stanfield Connel cemetery, deep into rural Martin County, where my mother grew up.  My  Great Grandparents, Hiram and Anna Connel, and many of the Stanfield/Connel family are buried there. My Great Grandfather Connel was injured in the Civil War and suffered throughout his lifetime from those injuries.  The area surrounding the cemetery is now all grown up, but I vaguely remember visiting there when I was very young.  My mother shared many stories about her life there as a child and the school located on the farm that she attended. In the early to mid-1800s, someone in the family built a schoolhouse and (presumably) hired a teacher to educate the children in the neighborhood.  nd d neighborhood children whose parents wanted to learn.  and his grandchild.   Debby remembered that there is a spring near where the old schoolhouse once stood from which the family received their water. How I wish I had been a better student during those tours in earlier years. 

The rented van had to be back by 5PM and it was now well past lunchtime, so we rushed through the country roads to Highway 56 and the Hill Country Club where we had lunch in the clubhouse overlooking the beautiful Donald Ross Golf Course.   What a day and what a wonderful trip down memory lane with my very special family.  I just wished they could relive the many similar trips that I have taken with my two brothers.  Trevor was the historian; Carl’s stories bordered a bit on the mystical at times.  Although Debby thought we were in the vicinity of Peggy's Hollow (a favorite story of my brother Carl) I am not sure we were actually on the road that I was led to believe where the events actually happened.  

DONALD ROSS COURSE (1 OF 3)

Back at the apartment, I basked in my reminisces and rested while Terri continued her exploration of a town with three golf courses, two major hotels, one main street, and a population of 1,791 (roughly the same as when I lived there in 1950). 

       RESORT GOLF COURSE (2 OF 3)

Friday, niece Joy and nephew, Tom picked us up at 11 AM for another scenic drive to the Overlook of the Ohio River in Leavenworth Indiana. There we had lunch at a restaurant with a beautiful view of the river and surrounding farms and woodlands. We watched as a barge filled with coal was pushed downstream.  We surmised that it was on its way to a coal-burning plant downriver that we passed on our way to TN on Wednesday. California with its ocean, mountains and hot, dry desert has its classy beauty but Southern Indiana captures its own beauty that encompasses woodlands, hills and green grass.

On our way back from Leavenworth Tom drove by the Moores Ridge Cemetery where my nephew, Kenneth and his wife are buried. Both of Floyd's sons have passed on. Kenneth was two years younger than me and Donald was five months younger. Donald is buried in Paoli and we did not get there or to Antioch, Mundell, or Springhill where other members of my family are buried. Too many locations for a limited visitation agenda. I do believe in paying respect to those who have gone on before. I may meet them someday and need to give an accounting.

Our weather was relatively pleasant throughout our week with a reasonable humidity level.  I enjoyed sitting out on the porch of the apartment in relative comfort throughout the week and we had used minimal air conditioning throughout the week.  Our good luck changed on Saturday. 

 Saturday morning proved to be decidedly warmer with high humidity.  It was a day that the Pinnick family was meeting for a potluck lunch.  When I was a youngster growing up, the Pinnick reunion was the highlight of my dad's summer.   It was always on a Sunday and on the appointed day my mother would rise early, fry a chicken, cook a pot of green beans, and my sisters, Thelma and Dorothy, would make appropriate side dishes which I remember as including potato salad, rolls, coleslaw, etc. Cold drinks and ice cream were provided.

 It was the one time of the year that my dad had to visit with his many cousins and family who lived in Bicknell and surrounding areas too far for regular visits.    It was a special time, and I cannot recall a reunion that my siblings did not attend if they were within commuting distance.  During the last few years, those reunions have not been held.  I was glad to attend what I hope will be a regular reincarnation of the event. 

1926

1967 

                           (Last reunion Tom Pinnick and Tommy Powell attended - both died in 1968)

2022 (SHRINKING IN SIZE ?)

Unfortunately, the clubhouse where the picnic was to be held was not air conditioned and the humidity and heat did little to encourage family time. Nevertheless, I was able to see many of my family that I would not otherwise have seen. All of my brother, Trevor’s, children were there. Tom, Joy, David (with wife, Becky), and Steve (with wife, Terri). Nephew Tom’s wife, Shirley, passed away in February. Tom’s two sons and their wives, (Scott and Lana and Brad and Angie) and granddaughter (Brook) and her fiancée (whose name I either failed to get or have forgotten) were there. Brad and Angie also brought their grandchildren, Jeremiah and 1-year-old Harper (our youngest attendee). Kyle, Steve’s son was there with his two children, Jaxyn and Jedda).  Carl’s daughter, Deborah, and husband Scott were there along with their daughter, Erin, husband John, and daughter Kynlie.

Brother Floyd’s youngest son, Kenneth’s daughters, Mary Duncan, Judy Edwards and  Beverly  Dees along with brother Carl’s daughter, Deborah were instrumental in the planning of the event.  Crudos to all.  They did a fabulous job, but the weather did not cooperate. It precluded me from being more active in seeking out and visiting with more of the family.  I had also looked forward to meeting Donald’s daughter, Donna, but she was not feeling well and felt that she should stay home.  She was diagnosed with covid the next day.  We all thank her for her diligence in protecting the rest of us and we are glad that she was diagnosed in time for an early recovery.  

In years past, I always tried to see Donald and Kenneth during my brief visits home but alas, I never met any of their family except maybe Donald’s youngest son – I believe his name was Donald also.  My memory is vague, but I think we all met at the Villager.  Ahhhh so many memories and not enough data storage. I regret that I did not get to spend more time visiting and getting to know the Floyd Pinnick family. 

I was delighted to meet the daughters of Orlando Pinnick, Jr.  They are descendants of the Bicknell branch of the Pinnicks.  I would have loved an afternoon spent visiting with them and getting feedback on the history of the Bicknell family.  I enjoyed sharing my fond memories of how my brother Carl and I always looked forward to the annual reunion and seeing Jr and his sister, who I remember as being called Missy (Mitsi?).  Orlando Pinnick, was close to my father’s age and the son of my dad’s favorite Uncle Will.  It did my heart good to know that they treasured their memories of the annual reunions as do I.  My father had 4 paternal Uncles and 8 paternal aunts and 4 maternal Uncles.  Looking back, I was only aware of two that seemed particularly close to my father, Uncle Will on his father's side and Uncle Ark on his mother's side.  There were others, but less significant in my memory.   

 Lunch was served at 1PM.  I was moved by Mary Duncan’s husband, Travis' eloquent words of reflection on the value of family ties in his request for blessings on the food and the gathered family.  I regret that I did not get to visit with him or Mary. 

Too soon we learned that people were leaving, and we rushed to get a family picture which tended to conclude the gathering.  I was left feeling a bit sad with the thought that perhaps the concept of family may have lost its luster.  I was also grateful for the relatives that were there and I was able to visit.   I hope that the planners were not disheartened and the tradition will continue. 

Nephews Steve and David with wives, Terri and Becky, and niece, Joy joined us for a short visit back at our apartment for a delightful finish to a good day. When all had gone, I relaxed on the porch, enjoying the silence of the small town with the tweet of birds and sounds of nature in the background.  It was a lovely day and a good memory to carry with me in these, “my golden years”. To my delight, Eddie, my benefactor’s brother, stopped by to say goodbye and we had a second memory back down memory lane.   What a great way to close out a special day.

Sunday morning, Terri and I packed, tidied up the very pleasant and comfortable apartment so graciously loaned to us for the week, and prepared to move out.  Barbara, my friend’s sister, came by to take the keys and say goodbye.  What a wonderful family from my childhood.  I think that I have been the most blessed person in the world with many good and wonderful friends that I have been so lucky to know.   Few people have been so privileged. 

Terri and I drove out to Red Quarry for a quick visit with another old and dear friend, Norma Kerby Jacobs.  Norma and I go back to elementary school. After my mother died, I think I stayed more nights at her house than I spent in my own home.   Norma had a sister, Donna, who was two years older than us but she, too, was like a sister.  We did everything together and Donna and I met our boyfriends while we were all out walking with another friend, Joan Daugherty. Norma and Joan ignored the flirting young boys in a car that drove by and honked the horn.  Donna and I were willing to flirt back.  The boys ended up stopping and talking with us while Norma and Joan walked on ignoring them.  Expressing our need to catch up with our friends, the boys let us go after we agreed to a later date.  Our life had changed, and we had moved into that brave new world of “twosomes” and the double date of yore.    After Donna moved on to other “prey”, I continued to date my friend off and on throughout High School.  Norma, Donna, and their parents were my extended family of yesterday and today, I remember them with the love and hold my memories of them close to my heart.  It was sad to again, bid Norma goodbye, both of us fully aware that we were probably saying goodbye for the last time, at least on this sphere. 

My final visit o my Red Quarry itinerary was completed, Terri and I drove by the former Target mansion, now the home of the Pete Dye golf course for my last visit to the home that I always longed to live.  As a youth, I would sit in our front yard and look, enviously, at the beautiful home on the hill and aspire to live there one day.  Only someone who believes deeply in the hope and freedom of a country that encourages those dreams can have those kinds of dreams.  True. I never realized my dream, but that dream provided me with a vision that life can be good and thus, I realized my vision. Life has been good. 

Golf Course 3 of 3

We checked in at the hotel and coordinated a time for dinner with the nephews and nieces. It was our last hurrah. Over a dinner of good Indiana food, we laughed and shared our last minutes together. Great nephew JD and wife, Kim, stopped in for a quick visit in route back from a concert in Nashville. It was with a heavy heart that I bade my Indiana family a final goodnight. David and Katy would pick us up Monday morning at 9AM for our drive to our Indianapolis airport departure.

UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN

The next morning, great nephew Luke, joined us at the hotel for a brief visit before we said goodbye to Becky and the great great nephews, Henry and Charlie.  En route to our lunch with niece, Zoe, and great-niece, Rachel Baum, we stopped for a quick visit with another friend from my childhood, Joan Daughtery Ward.  Joan’s family, like the Kerby’s, were my extended family and I look back today and know how truly fortunate I was to have such good friends and families. I often think of Hilary Clinton’s book IT TAKES A VILLAGE. Village is a word. I think the key is inhabitants and perhaps my title for the book would have been “IT TAKES A GENTLE HEART” It is not the Village.  It is the people who make a difference. It is the heart! 

Joan and I shared our memories, our many good times together with Norma and Donna Kerby, and the many trips to Spring Mill with her parents in her dad’s school bus; our church; school days, and our memories of our teacher who we always called Miss Mae.  What a wonderful childhood we had in spite of the many challenges that we experienced. 

After our stop at Joan’s, we met Zoe and Rachel for lunch at the Cracker Barrel, a must-visit for Ken wherever one is located.    Another three hours of visiting and sharing and we had to leave for the airport.  David and Katy dropped us off and we said a final goodbye, checked in, and awaited our flight to Phoenix and home.  Everything went smoothly until we got to Phoenix where we were met with a 5-hour flight delay.  We were supposed to get into Burbank at 905PM.  In fact, we arrived at 130AM.  But who is complaining?  We got home safe. I didn’t fall. I loved the trip down memory lane.  No Aunt has ever experienced more attention, caring,  gracious hospitality, and unconditional love. I am truly blessed with a .family that I am so proud of and friends that are the very best.  Yes, Indiana is truly the land of GENTLE HEARTS AND GOOD PEOPLE, many of whom are my family, extended family, and friends.  

I want to add a special thanks to my wonderful daughter who accompanied me and made this trip possible.  She was diligent in her oversight, a good sport, patient and thoughtful.     

THANK YOU ONE AND ALL FOR A VISIT THAT WILL BE LONG REMEMBERED 

 

 

 

IN MEMORY OF KENNETH ROBERT BURNS

AUGUST 16, 1931 - JANUARY 14,  2022

Kenneth Robert Burns was born August 16,1931 to Robert W. and Helen Gray Burns at the Glendale Research Hospital then located near the location of Adventist Hospital where he passed away January14, 2022 at the age of 90. Ken joined the army in 1950 and served during the Korean War as a Physical Reconditioning Technician at the Percy Jones Hospital in Battle Creek Michigan. He met and married Patricia (Pat) Pinnick in 1951. He is survived by his wife; daughter, Terri Ann; son, Gerald Kenneth (Gary); daughter-in-law, Marci (Helmstetter) Burns; granddaughter, Lauren Heather Burns; grandson, Sean Robert-Gerald Burns; sister, Barbara Helen Burns, a missionary in Joao Pessoa, Brazil and brother, Donald Lawrence Burns of Cottonwood, Arizona. 

At an early age Ken inherited a love of sailing from his father and accompanied his parents on frequent day sails and Catalina trips in a sailboat built by his dad. Later, his mother owned a boutique on the Pike  in Long Beach and later, a fish and chips stand for which Ken peeled a bucket of potatoes every Saturday to earn money for the movies. He owned a 41-foot sailboat from 1982-1997 and skippered eight bareboat charters in the Virgin Islands, Bahamas and sailed from St. Lucia to Grenada. His love of the ocean and sailing remained a passion to the end. 

 After his army discharge, he studied pre-med in Flagstaff, Arizona and San Diego, California until the reality of family survival led to a life in sales and manufacturing. In 1967 he acquired a custom fiberglass manufacturing business and in 2002 he retired. In retirement, he and Pat visited 45 States (including Alaska), Mexico and Canada in their 32-foot RV. Their extensive travel by air, land and sea also included visits to over 100 countries and concluded with a world cruise in 2015. 

 Ken had a lifelong faith and in his later years, he joined Glendale Presbyterian Church where he served as an Elder and Sunday School teacher. Ken will be greatly missed and in his own words.  

 Life has been a great adventure

Ken Burns memorial service 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cpn3OWpMJRY

MERRY CHRISTMAS

Another year has seen fit to skirt by without too much change in our life. Ken celebrated his 90th birthday in August and, in spite of ongoing issues with hyportension (low blood pressure), hypertemsion (high) and pulmonary fibrosis, he expects to be 100 in ten years, barring no unforeseen events. Ken’spulmonary fibrosis seems no worse but he had to take a break from a medicine developed to reduce the spread of the fibrosis because of side affects. Since he has been off the drug his appetite and digestive problems have improved leading us to hope he will be able to resume the medication. We will readdress the matter with the lung Dr. after the first of the year. I do not want to leave you with the impression that I am without symptoms of aging but otherwise, I am good except for some minor pauses for a foot problem and currently, the discomfort of knees that are complaining of their old age. I am awaiting scheduling for surgery on my right knee while the left one awaits further attention. In general, we are lucky. Terri lives with us. She provides on-site surveillance and Gary helps as chauffeur and errand boy on his days off. Ken and I often lament to each othe that we were once the ones giving orders, but that role has changed. We try to be as mindful as they once were. Speaking of our children, Terri continues to maintain her practice from home via telemedicine every day except one when she goes into her office. Gary and Marci just returned from a European vacation and are contemplating more travel when they finally conclude their years of working and reach their retirement goals. Sean and Laren live in San Diego. We don’t get to see them often enough but we appreciate and welcome their text greetings and phone calls. Lauren comes to Glendale more frequently than Sean, so we see more of her. She brings lunch or dinner when the timing works. We wish you, our friends and family, a very Merry Christmas and a Happy Healthy New Year. Wishing you a Happy 2022 The Burns’ (Ken and Pat)

THANKSGIVING REMINISCE

 

It is the day after Thanksgiving and I am indulging in melancholy of Thanksgiving’s passed.  Bear with me.  It is an old aged thing but recall filled with love from the riches of my Thanksgiving repertoire.

There have been many wonderful holidays spent with family and close friends but for this memory back in time,  I am going to focus on some deeply personal glimpses.   

I remember Thanksgiving 1942 during the height of World War II.  My father was working at the Naval Ordinance Depot in Crane Indiana and it was just my brother and I with my mother.  Early in the day my brother had gone rabbit hunting and returned with two rabbits that would provide the foundation for our Thanksgiving dinner when my Father returned from work.  It was a rare day of sharing my Mother’s kind, loving and very special story telling persona.  It was one of the rare times in my life that I recall feeling as if I was sharing with my brother the true depth of our mother’s love for us. This is a memory for which I am deeply thankful.

I was 17 years old when I left home in early October 1950. I went to Crawfordsville, Indiana to attend a special trade school in pursuit of employment with a company that was then viable and successful, the Western Union Telegraph Company.  (Does that date me or not?) I would complete my training the week after Thanksgiving and have a week off between completion of my schooling and starting my first assignment with the company.   Distance, economics and travel connections prohibited my going home for the holiday and thus, it would be my first holiday away from my family.

I will never forget my happiness and surprise to see my sister and brother-in-law (Thelma and Oscar Shipmen) drive up to the house where I was staying.  They had driven from Shoals Indiana to Crawfordsville, Indiana, a distance of 100+ (In those days 100 miles round trip in one day was significant travel) for the express purpose of taking me out to Thanksgiving dinner and sharing the day with me.   My family’s traditional Thanksgiving celebration was sacrificed that I not be alone.  I am so truly thankful for my beloved sister whose love at that age I accepted as my due with little thought as to how lucky I was.  I am so very thankful for this special memories and blessings of my sister and my family.

On a lighter moment, Ken and I celebrated our first Thanksgiving with another couple who was also celebrating their first Thanksgiving together.  Both men were stationed at the Percy Jones Army Hospital in Battle Creek Michigan. The hospital served a traditional Thanksgiving feast to which staff and guests were invited.  Neither the other wife nor I could yet imagine ourselves preparing anything resembling a Thanksgiving dinner and thus our thoughtful husbands decided that the four of us would join the hospital sponsored feast.   After the meal, stomachs full and time on our hands, we decided to drive to Chicago and perhaps, take in a movie.  On the way the conversation somehow developed into a discussion regarding burlesque and by the time we reached Chicago, the two young husbands had decided to treat their wives to a theater named Minsky’s. From the discussion both husbands gleaned that their wives did not know anything about burlesque and certainly not that Minsky’s was a burlesque theater. Looking back I can only imagine the amused delight that our husbands anticipated when their naïve trusting wives found out the reality of the planned Thanksgiving Day celebration. 

To cut to the chase, both the other wife and I were good sports and since neither of us knew the other very well somewhat embarrassed but needless to say it was a Thanksgiving to remember.  It was my first and only visit to a burlesque and I suspect it was the same for my partner in surprise but it made for many good laughs in the almost 70 years since.  We remained life- long friends and though Ken’s buddy has passed away, we are still in touch with his wife. I am thankful for this wonderful memory from our youth and it brings a smile to my face to still be able to remember that we were young and reckless once.

I also remember Thanksgiving 1952 when Ken went deer hunting to Northern Michigan with friends and I spent Thanksgiving alone but without rancor.  I was scheduled to work and thus, Ken was tempted by the invitation to do something that he had never done, deer hunting.  I encouraged him to go and he had a wonderful memory. My Thanksgiving was subdued with work the highlight of my day but I am thankful for blessings that we had.

 I am thankful for our good fortune in the many wonderful memories that we have had in what has truly been a charmed life. There were years when our good fortune was fleeting but we knew we had much to be thankful for in spite of sparse conditions at the time.  I hope that all of your Thanksgivings are as happy as those I choose to remember today.  I felt the need to share but these few. But be assured there is a lifetime of memories awaiting recall.

 

FOURTH OF JULY REFLECTION

Today we celebrate the Declaration of Independence that our forefathers cared enough to suffer to achieve. Few of us can remotely identify with anything near the adversities that they endured to provide us the freedom to live the lifestyle that we are privileged to enjoy today. 

My family and that of my husband date back to the early colonies and the American Revolution.  This holiday is a reminder to us of our heritage and the legacy that our ancestors provided to us in the 200+ years since that Declaration of Independence.  Subsequent generations have defended the principles of those first Colonists, but none paid a higher price than those who fought in that cause or the subsequent Civil War to defend the principles of equal justice for all.  Two of my Great Grandfathers fought and were wounded in that war and they carried reminders of those wounds with them for the rest of their life.  I was raised to respect the sanctity of human life, respect my fellow citizens and above all, appreciate the values on which my country was founded and that my ancestors fought to preserve. My parents instilled in me pride for what had been given to me and respect for the values from which they sprung.

This year as in no other year in my 87 years I am apprehensive for my country and the traditions that I was taught to respect and value. I am appalled at the disrespect for our history, traditions and moral values that have been exhibited in the past weeks. How many of those who now attack the foundations of patriotism share the history of a forefather fighting in that great revolution under almost insurmountable odds or in the unfathomable conditions under which my Great Grandfathers and many other similarly dedicated men fought in the great Civil War?  I do not in any way discount the wrongs of slavery, but I would remind those who may not otherwise know, a rarely acknowledged fact.  There were many good Americans who voluntarily withstood incomprehensible conditions in order that slavery and the wrongs of a misguided group of our citizenry might be righted.  I find myself resentful that the price my Grandfathers paid in the cause of freedom should now be looked upon with contempt  without recognition of the price that was paid for them to now engage in the acts of despicable anarchy and hate that we are forced to endure.  I understand that we have witnessed many appalling acts of hate by people whose moral yardstick is challenged.  But what is to be accomplished when that hate is met by a hate of the same misguided acts of vindictiveness?  I abhor those who would disrespect and dishonor their fellow man.  Those people do not share my moral values and I do not share theirs, but neither do I share the moral values of those would strike back on the same revengeful premise.

I do not believe that those who do not respect others irrespective of race, color, creed or nationality are part of our American tradition.  This holiday celebrates our Declaration of Independence and for me a special tradition.  It is a celebration of who we are and not what those who would destroy our beliefs and traditions with hate and vindictive acts of anarchy would have us be.  I fear that their abuse of the freedoms that our forefathers fought so hard to provide us will destroy not only their freedoms, but yours and mine as well.  Let us all reach out, one unto another, in a new dedication to preserving that which we have rather than joining those who would destroy that which has been given us.  A first step might be to recognize that hate in any form must be acknowledged and eradicated and that it must begin with you and me.  That would be my wish for all my family and friends on this Fourth of July 2020.

TWO OLD FOLKS LIVING THE LIFE

As you may not have noticed, I have been quiet at the old keyboard of late.  I have had other things to do – like preparing a final plan upon my demise, making the big decisions and – of course – writing my memoirs.  Actually, none of the above is really true.  It seems that the primary event in our life is the Doctor of the day.  Whatever would old people do for a social life but for the Doctors?? That said, I really must share with all of you what was, for this old person, a momentous event in our life. (Ken and I, of course!)

In the early 80’s, Ken and I (who am I kidding – Ken – I just helped pay for it) purchased a time share in Key West Florida.  Ken refers to our visits there as his visit to a Caribbean Island to which he can drive.  In truth, through the years we have loved our visits to the Galleon and in spite of a few instances of rain that exceeded expectations, basked in the sun, enjoyed the local flavors and, on one occasion, Ken sampled the hospitality of the local hospital. During these visits we have enjoyed the company of many family and extended family and it has all been good and filled with great memories.  As wonderful as our prior visits have been, none compare with our latest visit.  Let me tell you about it!!

Terri took us to the Burbank airport for our early flight to Tampa Saturday morning May 11.  All went well and as scheduled, we arrived safely and on time in Tampa.  We picked up our rental car and put the rubber to the road for our 90 minute drive to Sarasota plus a stop off at the Cracker Barrel for a reintroduction to the delightful flavors of Southern cooking..  On Wednesday we drove to Ft Meyers to pick up our niece Joy Neeley. Joy resides in Southern Indiana where my roots are as deep as the American Revolution according to family folklore. Our, however many greats back one must go, Grandfather and his brother were among the patriots who served in the revolution that heralded our freedom from England. Let no one doubt that I am proud of my family and my heritage.

Early Saturday morning, Joy, Ken and I departed Sarasota for Key West. Our first scheduled stop would be the Fish Company in Islamarada. (One of many established traditions over the years.) There we were joined and treated to lunch by nephew,  JD and his friend, Kim. After our hearty lunch, we proceeded down the Keys under blue skies with a few fluffy clouds gliding overhead.  Thus, began our week at the Galleon.

In addition to Joy, another niece, Deborah Wood, and her husband, Scott, would comprise our resident guests but at other locales, two nephews and four  nieces, spouses and/or travel partners were settling in.  Mid-week three other nephews and a niece  would arrive, making our party complete.   To tell you that I felt overwhelmed with pride and affection would be  an understatement.  Indeed I do not have the words that can convey the emotion and love that I felt in having my family devote precious vacation time in the company of an old and sometimes grumpy Aunt.  You gotta admit, that's kindness in a world where there is too little. 

Mostly, Ken and I enjoyed the view from our balcony and awaited  visits with the more active family members who shared with us their adventures out and about. Their activities included jet skis, snorkeling, swimming, sightseeing, boating,  night life and yes, eating.  As you might guess, the food in Key West can be spectacular.

Sunday morning was our first venture out as a group and on the recommendation of our son and daughter in law, we opted for Sarabeth's. We were able to get reservations for all 13 (Ken, Joy, Zoe, Karen, John, Alice, JD,  Kim, Stephanie, Adam, Rachel and me).  Scott and Debby were still on the road.  It was a great start to a great week and we were lucky to receive accommodations for that many on short notice.  Thank you Sarabeth!!

                               

Monday Everyone joined in the barbecue at the Galleon (a routine event) where exposure and insight into things to do, places to go, people to see was provided. Rachel picked up her "bestie", Amro, who arrived after a red eye flight from St Louis where he completed his latest theater performance. After a quick nap, Amro was ready to join the group in pursuit of  fun and excitement.

 Tuesday I insisted that we needed to do the Key West Trolley for a ride around town and tips for things to do, places to go and people to see in Key West. That may have been a good idea but it was a bit of a disappointment.  For Ken and me that was our big whoopee doo in pursuit of fun  in the sun.  The bright sun and heat conveyed an undesired discomfort and being old, we succumbed to watching from the sidelines.  We were committed to living vicariously from the comfort of our balcony shaded by palm trees occupied by birds who provided both entertainment and irritation. Cool drinks flowed freely and frequent visitors reminded us that life can be cool. .

Wednesday, we lost JD and Kim to the reality of real life and return to work. Later,  the nieces joined us for people watching from the balcony and lunch, while the younger members of our group pursued other ventures out and about.  

Thursday, we enjoyed quiet time on the balcony while we waited  with anticipation for the arrival of Steve, Terri, Kyle and Jaxson, who were driving down from Ft. Lauderdale.  Thursday evening we were treated to a wonderful bbq dinner hosted by the Baum family at their condo in the Truman Annex.  Dinner included a surprise birthday celebration in honor of my pending ascension into another age year. I was overwhelmed and very impressed with the delicious cake made for me by Stephanie Baum, my very talented, beautiful great great niece.  To say my cup was running over would be an understatement.

Friday three of our group returned to the ocean for snorkeling and water appreciation while the rest of us boarded a boat to Sunset Key for lunch at The Latitudes. Sunset Key has become a favorite last hurrah and lunch during our visits to Key West. We highly recommend lunch or dinner there  if you are in the area of Key West but do be prepared to wait if you are ordering  beignets for desert!  My patience was severely tested, giving insight into the grumpiness for which I have renown. 

Saturday morning, everyone scurried with early checkouts, planes to catch and things to do.   After a little effort (and too late for four of our group) we were able to all get together at The Southernmost Beach Café on the beach  at the end of Duval Street for breakfast, goodbyes and last minute photo ops.   We were lucky that they were not too busy and they were wonderful with their patience in accommodating a large group on a "walk in"  basis.  Southern charm and manners are alive and well in Key West.  

As we said goodbye and departed one from another, my heart filled with the emotion of how important family is both from the past, in the now and to our future.  Few people are as blessed as I have been in the past or as I am today and my heart is filled with a love like no other for my family, extended family and circle of friends. 

BALCONY VIEW

KEN AND SCOTT ENJOYING THE VIEW

ME WITH MY THREE NIECES, JOY NEELEY, DEBBY WOOD AND ZOE BAUM

ZOE AND JOHN

RACHEL, ZOE AND KAREN SUNSET KEY

KYLE, JAXSON, STEVE AND TERRI PINNICK

STEPHANIE AND ADAM 

DEBBY, AMRO AND RACHEL

JOY AND ALICE

ZOE AND TREASURED GRANDDAUGHTER, STEPHANIE

SUNSET AT KEY WEST

MORE MEMORIES OF OLD TIMES

TWO FOR ONE DRINKS HELPED 

On route to Sarasota, we stopped for dinner in Naples at a favorite restaurant on the dock in Tin City.  Our last visit there was for lunch with friends from Canada that we met on our South Africa trip, Bill and Maureen Poutney and Rob and Aurielle.  Memories are the blessings that sustain old age for those lucky enough to be blessed with it (and the memories).  Ken and I are among the lucky ones.

Our Sunday was brightened  by a visit from our friends, Kitty and Ed, from Palm Coast who, upon hearing that we were in Sarasota scheduled a special stop over on route home from a camping trip in their RV in Ocala. What a treat it was to see them both and enjoy memories shared.  Dinner and catch up occupied our afternoon.

Debby, Kitty, Pat, Ken and Ed

Monday morning,  after treating ourselves to a good Amish breakfast, we waddled off to our car and drove Joy to the airport for her return trip home  Later, Kitty and Ed joined us for a drive to Bradenton, for lunch on the beach. Later, we were able to manage a brief hello with Frosty, Kitty's poodle of many years and met, Sparky, the "labadoodle" (or something like that) replacement for Jingles who has gone on to his doggy reward. Sparky is all paws, alive with youthful energy and still in training.   Our friendship with Kitty dates back to a cruise from Spain to Portugal in 2000.  We met her and her late husband Bob in Barcelona and they, together with Marvis and Bob Gersten, shared our tourist adventures on that trip.  We three couples enjoyed our time together and kept in touch through the years.  The two Bob's are gone but our friendship has endured with the addition of Ed and Arnie who have not tried to replace their predecessors but rather are comfortable in their own skin.  

We enjoyed the Bradenton Beach Restaurant so much we repeated the occasion with our neighbor and friends in the apartment next door.  They had not been to the Bradenton restaurant and we didn't mind repeating the always pleasant experience of lunch there on the beach.

Debby, Alice, Ken, Pat and Louise

On Saturday,  I was once again treated to the birthday scene inasmuch as it was the actual date. My niece was ever so kind and treated us to dinner at Rosebuds in Osprey in honor of my special day.  Rosebuds is another favorite place from our years of scouting places to eat in the Sarasota area.  Rosebuds was first recommended to us in or around 1994 and after numerous visits, it  has never disappointed us. 

Sunday, Ken fulfilled his ever present desire to do a little fishing and thus, he had his day of fishing.  He had a good day, came back tired but satisfied. You guessed it. We enjoyed a fried fish dinner and for cooking that is uniquely mine (bad), it met expectations.

   

EXCITEMENT?

                               

THE DETAILS

THE CATCH

Monday, we boarded our plane home and Terri met us at the airport with open arms and a welcome smile.  Cooper seemed rather ambivalent about our return but the next day when Terri went to work, he seemed to grasp the benefit of having us around as a substitute for long days alone.  We were glad to be home, but we treasure the memories!!  

Well, there you have it -- our big whooppee dooo for the year.

Now, do you believe me?   Old people ought not be allowed out"!!