Well, It Sounds Good......

Every family has its stories. We tell the stories and we hear the stories and they get passed down as we remember them, for generations. One of my families stories involves the ancestry of my Great- grandmother, Jennie Stanley Wintle. For years, my sister and I were told that she was an American Indian. There are only a few people remaining that knew Jennie, and they also believe that she was a least part Native American. We cherished the notion that we were somehow long lost Indian Princesses.....along the line, perhaps of Sacagawea or Pocahontas.

Well, I've been doing quite a bit of genealogy research on the Wintle-Stanley Family. My discoveries tell me that Jennie, may actually have been named Jane. She  was born in Illinois, and lived in several places in Kansas, during her lifetime. Her mother's name was Emily and her father was Charles B.  One of her brothers was named Sherman, which is also my grandfather's (Jennie's son) middle name. Jennie's father was a miner, as was at least one of her brothers. I discovered that this brother, also name Charles, was "blown to shreds" in a mining accident in the early 1930's. 

Jennie and Walter Wintle had eight children, that reached adulthood. They all lived in and around the same small town in Kansas, along with several generations of their offspring.  I have photos of all of these people, and many pages of newspaper articles and notices, documenting their lives. But, nowhere can I find any tribal connection for Jennie Stanley Wintle. 

I am not an Indian Princess. I am just an average old American woman, with ancestors coming from many different places to America, years and years ago. I can live with that.

Dear Lord. We are, very simply, your children. We belong to Your Family. Show us how to live together in peace and harmony.

PATINA

 My husband and I proudly exhibit, free of charge, what everyone seems to be paying oodles and oodles of money to get. We have PATINA!

Take barn wood, for example. Numerous houses, in our neighborhood, have been enhanced with weathered, beat-up, nail-holed barn wood. It's an attractive look, and I'm letting you know that we have the same attributes.

Distressed fabric and leather are also "in". The more wrinkled, shredded and torn the better. Guess what? As 75 year olds, we're there.

Hammered Copper? That's us. Rusted iron? Of course. 

We are aging naturally.......and we're worth thousands.

Dear Lord. Thank you for sticking with us, for the long haul. You are our constant.

Gene and Roy

 Our brother and sister-in-law went to a performance of the "Sons of the Pioneers", last week. However, no one they know, in their Texas town, was old enough to remember that illustrious Western Swing Group, so they had to call us, their oldest living relatives, in order to find folks to tell about their experience.

If you mention phone booths, door to door delivery of milk and live phone operators, to your children, they might call your doctor. They probably never went to a shoe store, where clerks fitted and helped you choose shoes. You have to be at least 70, to know about or have experienced most of those things. Do they still have stick shift or manual shift cars? Who remembers gasoline, with lead, and the men who used to pump it in the gas tank for you. Linoleum floors? If you do, you're old.

Old is okay. Old makes you wiser, although very few young folks will give you credit for knowing anything. But, we know they will appreciate our knowledge, eventually.......when they are old and they themselves are, "Drifting Along with the Tumbling Tumbleweeds".

Dear Lord, Your Steadfast Love Endures Forever.

  

Speaking of Numbers....

 I'm having another birthday. It's no big deal. Fact is, that birthdays occur once a year, whether we choose to count them or not.  However, this year it's the big Seven Five. Three quarters of a century. Who would believe it!!!

Did you ever stop to consider the list of numbers that we need to know and use every day? One is your Social Security Number (everyone has one...a nine digit number). Until recently, your SSN was also your Medicare number. Now, thanks to the wisdom of our government, all seniors will have another number to remember, as our Medicare numbers will change.
Then, there are telephone numbers. Most everyone, these days, has a phone that will automatically dial a number associated with a name, which was previously entered into the memory of the phone. But, we still have to remember our own phone numbers! Yikes!
How about your house or apartment number, zip code, or employee number from work? If you have certain medical issues you might need to keep a mental record of your blood sugar count or your blood pressure (one number over the other), or the numbers of your good cholesterol and your bad cholesterol (which is which?????), and report them to your doctor. More numbers! Then, when you are still reeling from trying to remember those numbers, the same nurse will ask you what year you had your last tetanus shot or when and if you had a flu shot, in the last 12 months.  More numbers!
License plate numbers, credit card numbers, bank account numbers, tax numbers, number at the DMV counter, etc. I could never list all of the numbers we must know.
After all, they are just numbers.

Dear Lord. You are number one. You always have been. All of the other numbers are just temporary.
Remind us to put You first in our lives.

Pieces and Parts

Today, I threw out an ancient tome of history......a lap-sized 1950's, Junior High Scrapbook.  Now, it could be that you do not know what I am writing about, so I will explain. Pre-teen girls traditionally keep stuff, and the neatest way to archive that stuff, years ago, was to paste those items into a big book. My book had really "groovy" graphics on the front and dozens of construction paper pages, and it was full of my very important keepsakes.

My scrapbook contained a few newspaper articles, now brown and brittle with age. I had pasted dance cards and party napkins from some school dances on several pages. Programs and player rosters, from basketball and football games. were apparently worthy of keeping. I kept birthday cards and a few photos of classmates. Post cards from various friends, as they made family trips, were treasures, too.

Since I have hauled this awkwardly sized scrapbook, from residence to residence for 70 years, it was a bit difficult to pitch. But, I did it. I told myself that I was saving  my kids are from having to do the job, in the future. Seriously, the pages were crumbling and making a big mess. I kept a few of the treasures and I plan to send them to a few old friends. I'll let them throw them away!

Dear Lord. Thank you for our memories. Stuff, mental and physical, is just stuff, and all of us need to let it go. We are blessed.