Sometimes life is bittersweet, isn't it
remembering the days when
people in our lives celebrated
special days with us?
Days like St. Patrick's Day!
I was always well aware of
being Irish.
My grandmother was an Owen
and her family immigrated
from Ireland.
She died long before I was born
so I never had the pleasure of
knowing her.
The family unit I knew as a child
is all gone now.
A father, a mother and
one younger brother.
We celebrated 17 years
of Sundays together
before I left home.
17 years out of a lifetime isn't much but
0h! the memories created then.
My parents were not religious people
but they were believers.
I grew up right next to
a Catholic church
but never attended there.
This was taken from
but never attended there.
This was taken from
the road in front of our house
before the road was paved..
I don't remember my father ever
going to a church service.
before the road was paved..
going to a church service.
My mother took us kids
sporadically over the years.
When I was a young teen,
I started going on my own
I started going on my own
with some cousins.
A little country church
with a marvelous pastor,
Melvin Shultz.
His wife, Thelma, had
the voice of an angel
and I loved
and I loved
to sit as close to her
as I could on a
Sunday morning..
My father always
pared the farm work down
to a bare minimum on all
Holidays and every Sunday,
Holidays and every Sunday,
doing only the chores
that were necessary to
get by for the day.
My Grandfather,
My Grandfather,
dressed in his Sunday suit,
would stand here by the
road on a Sunday morning
would stand here by the
road on a Sunday morning
to greet people
on their way home from
on their way home from
the Catholic church
just up the hill.
He lived with us for about 5 years
until I was 6 or so.
I remember when my father planted
the elms on the left hand side
to give some shade to the front yard.
They were mere saplings then.
The house burned to the ground
15 years ago or so.
The shed that you see
The shed that you see
in the picture above
(that is hidden behind the trees)
is the only building that remains
of the original farm buildings.
I remember when my Father
(that is hidden behind the trees)
is the only building that remains
of the original farm buildings.
I remember when my Father
and two neighbors
built that shed for wood,
built that shed for wood,
storage and butchering.
Going the other way, down the hill,
the road makes a sharp curve
Going the other way, down the hill,
the road makes a sharp curve
then leads down
to my Aunt Bessie's house.
She, too, is gone these many years.
to my Aunt Bessie's house.
She, too, is gone these many years.
I spent a lot of time in the woods
that grew along the road..
Memories of coffee percolating
on the kitchen counter-
on the kitchen counter-
Watching the sun rise
and flood the East facing kitchen
with light.
Bacon sizzling in the frying pan-
the sharp crack of eggs
against the side of the pan-
Biscuits with home-churned butter
Biscuits with home-churned butter
and honey
from the bees from the hives
down past the little pond.
Sunday Memories-
Sharp-
Strong-
Stored Forever-
down past the little pond.
Sharp-
Strong-
Stored Forever-
And----just so you don't think
I have gone
all smarmy and sappy on you
here is what I plan to serve MyHero
for breakfast St. Patrick's Day
all smarmy and sappy on you
here is what I plan to serve MyHero
for breakfast St. Patrick's Day
morning if he
doesn't shape up.
doesn't shape up.
It will go great with a side of
You can order your very own
SKULL EGG SHAPER here..
SKULL EGG SHAPER here..
I guess I got sidetracked from a
St. Patrick's Day Post...
but that is what you get when you
visit me. lol...
You never know what lane my
mind will go down.
ANYWAY~
I hope you have a wonderful
St. Patrick's Day &
upcoming weekend.
Make the day special and
tell someone
you love them.
As for me--
I'll be looking for leprechauns
and I really need to visit
the Blarney Stone
before I die!
Who knows what I could talk
MyHero into after that!
MyHero into after that!
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