My friend and I were somewhere in
the flatlands of farm country when I told her childhood is the word for the
week. "You've written often enough
about childhood; you can write anything you want!" Which seems like great advice since that's
what I wanted to hear. Be forewarned,
this is a photo heavy post.
We stopped in Mount Gilead, Ohio
and ate in a Masonic Temple. I gotta
say, the creme brulee French toast was awesome and Korki loved her breakfast
scramble. The diner was filled with
locals and I watched as a waitress helped an elderly woman with a bunged up
shoulder out of her coat and settled her comfortably in her seat. Korki and I agreed "You don't see that
very often anymore" as we smiled at the vintage manners and decor.
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| Korki demonstrating good natured tolerance while getting sleeted upon |
Korki was humoring me by
accompanying me on my visit to the dead ancestors. My facebook cousin Michael Miller posted pics of our ancestors'
graves in Morrow County, and I thought it would be a great day trip. Let me be start by being fair and saying
Michael gave me clear enough instructions.
It's not his fault Korki and I drove a couple miles one way, then
several miles another, to backtrack and reattempt the first failed direction
before going back to the last correct thing we'd done with Michael's
instructions where we immediately found Rt. 156 next to the river just like
he'd said we would.
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| Barn we saw when we were on the wrong road |
It was a sludgy day with a flat,
gray #5 sky. The entrance to the
graveyard is a long, narrow drive of mud and brambles. We parked the car because we worried about
getting stuck and slogged our way through the muck while getting gently sleeted
on. Then the hill of stones appeared in
the woods. Duntadaduuuuh!
I'm pretty sure I'm related to
just about everyone on that hill in one way or another. A lot of the stones are down or broken, but
my direct ancestors' stones were up and waiting for me. Someone put stars and flags on the vets'
graves which pleased me. Some of you
know I'm a life-long pacifist who really wants wars to stop -- and yet I can't
help but be pleased that my ancestors repeatedly fought for freedom. From the Revolutionary War, the War of 1812,
the Mexican War, and the Civil War, my people were willing to bleed for the
country's right to exist.
Korki is a very good sport and let
me tromp around taking pictures and reading illegible stones despite the
inclement weather. She was an extra
really good sport when I was unsuccessfully rocking my car in the mud. She got out and gave a push and we managed
to get out of the muck.
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| Christenia's stone is broken. It should match Jacob's. |
We stopped at Grandpa'sCheese Barn on the way back home.
I was the one who wanted to go there, but oh my was it busy! Between cheese, trail bologna, lime
pickles, chocolate turtles, and fudge, well, I'm poorer than when we went into
the place and that doesn't even give me credit for all the stuff I decided not
to buy.
It was a good day despite the muck
and weather. The best part of it for me
was getting time to just yackety yack in the car. Some of that actually included discussing the ancestors, and
maybe here's where I'll tie this all in with "childhood". Korki pointed out that I may be interested
in genealogy because I spent a lot of time on Grandma's porch while she talked
about the people long gone. I sat on
her lap while she rocked, and I loved listening to the cadence of her voice as
she talked about the people who made me.
It's a gift of childhood that I hope many people give to the children in
their lives.
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| No idea if this is a good idea or not, but I like limes and I like pickles? |
