Category Archives: family

De-Cluttering Is Hard

This is less than half of the total volume of stamp collections I’m dealing with.

About a year ago Lynda and I came to the realization that we had to begin decluttering. Maybe that realization came longer ago than that, but it wasn’t strong enough to begin taking actions toward making it happen.

Then, in May of this year, when we had to move a bunch of stuff to make way for workers to do a certain task, we saw the stuff being moved was the fruit of over-accumulation and un-noticed hanging on. De-cluttering was suddenly real. We couldn’t just talk about it and think that no longer accumulating meant we were de-cluttering. We had to actually get rid of stuff.

The stamp boxes Dad made. When the collection goes these will stay, and be repurposed.

So, since then, we’ve actually been getting rid of some stuff. Perhaps not fast enough and not enough, but we are actually getting rid of stuff. We put out an old exercise bike for a special trash pick-up this week. It’s a bike that worked but which we never used as we have a better one. Wednesday I took a load of electronic items to the County solid waste center. I also took the old microwave that died back in April. That felt good.

About two weeks ago I started tackling the stamp collection. Or rather, collections, for I have three here. I’ve written before about how stamp collecting was a big part of our growing up. From the time I was 8, for the next ten years barely a day went by that we didn’t work on stamps. Our albums grew large. Dad built stamp boxes out of old TV cabinets from Uncle Kenny’s shop. Before long these overflowed, as did our large Harris Citation albums.

I continued collecting into adulthood, but not in a very organized way. We bought the new stamps as they came out and “sort of” filed them. We bought used stamps from dealers and put them in albums. We saved all stamps that came into the house. We soaked stamps off paper and put them in shoe boxes. In short, we did everything we had done when I was growing up.

Mom used to sit by the hour and bundle stamps by the hundreds, which she used for trading with dealers for stamps we needed.

We couldn’t get our kids interested in it. I eventually lost interest when the pull of career and other interests came on. Two periods of overseas living, with the stamps in storage in the USA and us wondering if they would survive their boxed exile, helped to lessen the desire. By the mid-1990s the collection was in boxes, in closets or the garage, unseen and untouched.

Then, when Dad died in 1997 we had all the stamps in his house to deal with. I was the one designated by the will to handle the collections, so we packed them into our van and brought them to Arkansas, to rest beside their cousins in other boxes. Then, in 2001, my brother made a visit here and brought his stamp collection with him, asking me to sell it when I sold the others.

The stock book I worked on last night. I still have a few stragglers to add to it (which fell out before my work commenced), plus perhaps some re-distribution.

We’ve known since then that the collections would some day be sold, but sitting down to organize everything seemed to be so big a job that I didn’t want to devote the time to it. Every now and then I did some internet searches about selling stamps, but that was it as far as actually working on them. The stamps continued to sit. I decided there was no point in trying to interest the grandchildren it stamp collecting.

Fast forward now to May of this year. Stamps were pulled from different places. I realized the time had come to do something. The first task was to bring them all together. I did this, and found the work massive. But slowly I’ve been doing more on it. Over the last two weeks I:

  • Separated the catalogues and how-to books from the 1960s out and put them in a separate pile. I think it’s unlikely any dealer or individual who might buy them (if, indeed, I find there’s any market for stamp collections, which I’m questioning).
  • Separated out what are really nothing but recyclable materials, such as sheets of cardboard, old envelopes, plastic bins from old cookie boxes used  for sorting stamps, etc. I have a pile of these that I’ll get rid of before long.
  • Putting all the sheets of new stamps together and then into a mint-sheet notebook or a small box. I got that done last week, realized the notebook was bulging and something else was needed. On Wednesday I came up with a better solution and completed that on Thursday.
  • Organizing a stock book of  duplicates. I’m not sure why, some years ago, I put this book together. But now it’s over-stuffed and bulging. Yet, it had empty pages. Yesterday I tackled it and found that the bulging was due to a poor distribution of stamps in the book. Yesterday afternoon and evening I put all my time into reworking that book, and found the stamps all fit with only minor bulging—and I still have some empty space in it. I may be able to eliminate that bulging if I spend all my time this evening on it.

So, where does this leave me? I should have all the stamps organized and stored in one place by this time next week, maybe sooner. I’ll discard/place for recycling those things that are no longer needed. I’ll check with one person who I think might want my brother’s collection. Then, I’ll break off to do some other things. I have two books in progress that I’m doing a little on simultaneously, but a little more concentrated effort and I’ll be able to finish and publish them.

It was easy to accumulate over 45 years of adulthood and 43 years of marriage. De-cluttering, which really means de-accumulating, is proving hard. I’m sure I’ll shed a few tears when the stamps leave my possession, not to storage, but for the last time. At that time I’ll tell myself “Better with someone else than put in my coffin with me.”

The Heckler’s Veto

I haven’t said much about this recently, but our son is Dean of Students at the Law School at the University of Chicago. He’s been slowly working his way up through university administration since he earned his PhD in 2011, a degree he worked long and hard for.

In past positions (not at the Law School) he’s had a lot of interesting things come up, such as a student who presented letters saying he was a C.I.A. operative and therefore needed some type of special treatment. Or such as the student who forged her admission papers, showed up at registration, and tried to force her way into enrollment and housing. Some things weren’t so benign, such as student deaths to deal with when Dean on Call.

How may the right of free speech be abridged, if at all?

An interesting situation came up on April 9, 2019, when pro-Palestinian protesters interrupted a talk by a pro-Israel speaker. The talk concerned the boycott of Israel wanted by Palestinians. The talk was by a visiting professor. The Palestinians entered the room and began shouting, preventing the speaker from continuing. Someone called the campus police. Charles was close by in the law school, and so came down and tried to restore calm and allow the talk to continue. You can read about it in this article in The Chicago Maroon, the university newspaper.

Embedded in the article, in tiny print, is an e-mail Charles sent to the students later in the day, explaining what had happened, what his actions were, and how all this applied to University policy, especially the policy of free speech. I particularly liked this from his e-mail:

The heckler’s veto is contrary to our principles. Protests that prevent a speaker from being heard limit the freedoms of other students to listen, engage, and learn.”

This brings me to something concerning free speech that I’ve been thinking of for quite some time. It’s relevant to me now as I work on my next book, Documenting America: Making The Constitution Edition, especially in relation to the discussions on the Bill of Rights. Freedom of speech is covered in the First Amendment:

Congress shall make no law…abridging the freedom of speech or of the press, or the right of the people peaceably to assemble….

As has been pointed out many times, the Constitution was written in a way to restrict the government, not the people. Laws of Congress restrict the people, but not the Constitution. Over time this has been re-interpreted as applying to the people as well. In certain areas, people must restrict their behavior based on the provisions of the Constitution.

Well done, Dean Todd!

What about in this case? The professor who was speaking has a right to free speech. The protestors who were preventing others from hearing him have a right to free speech. Do those in the audience have a right to hear the speaker? Is there any free speech when hearing is prevented?

Which brings me to something I’ve thought of for a long time. The right of free speech doesn’t guarantee the one speaking or publishing will have an audience. This, I think, is sometimes a problem with the press, especially the broadcast press, who decry alternate voices that crowd them out when they consider themselves to be “legitimate” news outlets and the others not. Sorry, but no one executing their right of free speech or free press has the right to an audience. No one.

But what about those who came to hear the speaker? Do they have a right to hear? I’m not sure. Certainly civility would say that they ought to be allowed to hear the speaker they came to hear, and that the protesters should find a different way to protest. Silently holding signs, confronting the speaker before and after speaking, establishing an alternative talk in another place. These would all be ways for the protesters to be heard and seek to gain their own audience.

This brings me down to what I’ve been thinking about: when rights clash. I have freedom of speech, but not where that right clashes with someone else’s right. I have freedom to practice my religion, but not where that right clashes with someone else’s right.

In a clash of rights, whose right should come out on top? Maybe before I ask that I should say, when rights clash, find a way to accommodate both people’s rights. Then, if you somehow can’t do that, whose right should come out on top? In the USA we have always said it should be the right of the weaker person.

I hope our nation always takes that position. The government was established to protect our God-given rights. When the rights of two people clash, and when no reasonable accommodation of both can be found, then the right of the weaker person should prevail. I can think of one huge area where, in a clash of rights, the Supreme Court and some of the States have come down on the side of the stronger party, but that will be a subject for a different post and perhaps a different blog.

 

Notre Dame

It was a once-in-a-lifetime trip for us.

I imagine just about everyone who has a blog and who at some time has visited Notre Dame will be making a post about it. I’ll join that army.

We visited Notre Dame in July 1982 while touring Europe en route to the USA from Saudi Arabia. We had just finished our first year in Saudi. Charles was 2 1/2, Sara a little over a year. Perhaps we were foolish taking two youngins’ on such a trip. We were young ourselves back then—and probably foolish.

Hard to get close enough to see people and much of the structure.

Lynda’s must-see city in Europe was Rome and mine was Paris. So we started our 28-day tour in Rome and ended it in Paris. It was a magical time, a once in a lifetime experience. Lynda and I have lots of good memories of that trip.

And a few photos. I think it was our last full day in Paris that we went to see Notre Dame. We had five nights and four days there. The day we arrived we learned the Louvre was closed due to a labor dispute. Bummer. We did other things, and I think the third day we were to go to Notre Dame, but the Louvre opened so we went there, leaving the famous cathedral for the last day in Europe.

Wish I were a better photographer.

We were at Notre Dame somewhat late in the afternoon. After relaxing and taking photos around the outside we went to go inside. A worker stopped us, saying mass was just starting. Not being Catholic that didn’t lure us in, but they would let you in if you wanted to attend mass. Lynda did that while I kept the kids outside, then, maybe ten or fifteen minutes later we switched. I felt a little guilty telling the worker I wanted to attend mass when I didn’t really, but, sometimes we do what we have to do. This was our last opportunity on the trip.

The interior had many beautiful views.

I remember inside as dark but beautiful. I made a quick pass around the inside perimeter, admiring all that I saw. I don’t have specific memories of this or that piece of artwork, but no matter. I went, we went, and that’s what was important.

While inside I snapped some photos. We had a good camera, a Nikon SLR with a telephoto lens, but I wasn’t much of photographer I’m afraid. You can see them on this post, not quite in focus, looking like they were taken in haste instead of with care. Alas.

The cathedral dominated the entire area.

I don’t remember which of us took the outside photos, but it was probably me as I’m not in any of them but Lynda and the kids are. They might be a little better than the inside ones.

We didn’t keep a trip diary then, so have no notes of what we saw, only the photos and perhaps a postcard or letter mailed home, which parents saved and gave to us years later. If time allows, I’ll find them in a file and see if I have anything to add. Given that this was our last day and we were then to head home to see parents, I don’t think I’ll find anything in there.

The fire was, of course, devastating. It’s a shame, though we look forward to rebuilding. I suspect I won’t ever get back there again, as there are too many places in the world to see should I ever again make an overseas trip.

Back in the Saddle

Last night, around 8:30 p.m., Lynda and I pulled into our driveway, 1318 miles and 11 days after having pulled out. We drove to Big Spring Texas where we spent time with our daughter Sara and her family. We watched the kiddos Friday-Sunday the first weekend and Friday-Saturday the second weekend.

The three older ones are in school, so, with just the 2 yr 4 mo old there in the daytime, and with our daughter there on weekdays, it was sort of vacation for us. Yes, we helped out during those days and times, but I found time to work on stock trading and make a number of trades.

I also found time to make two blog posts, without revealing my whereabouts, and to do significant research on Documenting America: Making the Constitution Edition. I read a lot, and extended my outline to the point where I had 23 of 30 chapters identified. This morning I completed my outline. I still have reading to do, but at least I know my destination now.

I accomplished a number of other, perhaps more important things while in Texas. I took my oldest grandson to his Cross-over Ceremony, where he graduated from Webelo to Boy Scout. That was excellent to see. I also helped him build an A.T.A.T. out of cardboard around his top bunk. We didn’t quite finish, but we got close. And, we had a number of talks—nothing terribly profound or earth-shattering, but simple conversations.

With my next-oldest grandson, we had several times of Bible reading together. He’s seven, and decided he wanted to read the Bible through. He’s currently on Deuteronomy. We read about ten chapters in it, maybe a few more. I also teased him with his portions at meals, something he came to expect and I think enjoy.

With the two youngest, there was playing with blocks and roughhousing and playing runaway blanket.

I didn’t have much time to help with projects around the house, such as hanging pictures or getting a few things put where they should go. I’ll have another trip to do that. I fixed several meals for everyone, and was the founder of a couple of times eating out.

All in all, I declare this to have been a successful trip. Now I’m ready to tackle at-home tasks, the list of which is not being shortened in retirement.

No Post on Friday, Late for Monday

Yes, here it is 9:00 p.m. on Monday and I’m just getting to my blog post. That’s after not having done one on my regular Friday. No excuses, of course, but I do have two good reasons.

First is this cold. I think I mentioned it before. I first noticed symptoms on Tuesday, January 22. The cold was in full blast by Thursday the 24th, and Saturday-Sunday seemed to be the worst—I thought. But the whole next week was about as bad as the weekend. I had good days here and there but, as of last Saturday, Feb 2, I was almost as bad. I don’t know why this is hanging on so. I’ve been taking over-the-counter meds, which gives some relief. Today I felt a little better. I’m still way below full speed, but I anticipate the healing to soon come.

The other reason, perhaps more valid, is we babysat the four grandchildren this past weekend. While their parents were away at ministers and spouses retreat, we tried to do right by the kids (ages 10 to 2) while keeping our heads and our sanity. I actually think it went well. My cold kept me from doing a Saturday morning activity with the two older boys, though they didn’t seem mind. We bought food for two suppers, and managed for other meals. We were all glad to see the parents return Sunday afternoon. They seemed pleased to see the kids dressed, having had baths on Saturday and been to church on Sunday. They told of another couple who said they got their kids back from grandparents in the same clothes they were in all weekends, no baths, questionable meals. So, we feel like we maybe did okay.

Meanwhile, what’s going on in my retirement world? I completed the third round of edits of Adam Of Jerusalem. It is now with a beta reader, and will go to a second beta reader next time I see her at church. One chapter went to the new critique group, and I’ve had feedback from three people. I’ll send a second chapter in about a week, then I expect I’ll be at the publishing stage.

In the meantime, I have resumed research in the next volume of the Documenting America series. This is the Making The Constitution Edition. I plan to have 30 chapters, as I did in the first volume, each chapter following the pattern of introductory paragraph, 700 to 1200 word quote, discussion of the document in its history, and tying it to an issue of the day. Based on past and recent research, I have 24 chapters identified. The remaining six shouldn’t be two difficult. I think I could find them in a week of research.

That means I’m a month or so away from starting the writing on this volume. That seems good to me. I’m anxious to get back to some additional writing.

R.I.P. Esther May (Moler) Cheney Barnes

Esther as a young adult, around 1945

On Nov. 7, 2018, my mother-in-law, Esther May (Moler) Cheney Barnes left this world and entered her heavenly dwelling. She had been ill for some time, with her physical condition rapidly deteriorating in the two weeks prior to her death. She was 93 years old.

Esther grew up in Meade Kansas, a rural area southwest of Dodge City. As a child and teenager during the Great Depressions, she had memories of hard times and dust storms. She graduated high school in 1943, went to junior college, then was pressed into service teaching, as there was a shortage of teachers.

With her children, around 1950

In 1946 she married Wayne Cheney of nearby Fowler Kansas. They had three children (one of whom died shortly after childbirth) and Esther miscarried at least twice. She and Wayne divorced around 1953. Esther remarried in 1986, to Chester Barnes. Chester had five children, three of whom were by his first wife; he and she divorced and he wasn’t close to the children. He had two daughters by his second wife, and these became like additional daughters to Esther.

She was city clerk for the City of Meade for 35 years, retiring in 1988. Her starting salary was $0.99 per hour. She had a difficult life as a single mom. For some time she and the children lived with Esther’s parents in Meade. Esther paid rent to them, however. It was a difficult life, with the three of them sharing a bedroom, Esther working her main job plus other jobs such as babysitting and washing to help make ends meet. She got through it, however. And her children grew up to become responsible adults.

In her later years; she still played occasionally

Esther was a rock-solid Christian. She was saved at a very early age, before memories carried into adulthood, and lived a consistent Christian walk after that. She joined the Church of the Nazarene (the church of her parents and grandparents), and, wherever she lived, this was her home church. Despite her financial hardships, she was a faithful tither. Her ministries in the church were pianist, organist, choir member, board member, and Sunday school teacher.

In 1988 she and her second husband retired to Benton County Arkansas, where Chester had been given a few acres. There they had a retirement farm where they raised cattle, ostriches, and emus. In 1996 they left this farm for full retirement in Bentonville. Chester died in 1999, and Esther was a widow for her last 19 years. She gradually “downsized”, from her house to an apartment to an independent living apartment to living with us for a few years, then finally to an assisted living facility in Bella Vista, about a mile from our home. It was there that she seemed happiest.

Wither her two oldest great-grandchildren, Ephraim and Ezra

Esther leaves a good legacy for her family. She knew her two grandchildren and four step-grandchildren. She knew four great-grandchildren, and enjoyed them being part of her life when they came for a visit.

Our family will miss her. At the same time, we are rejoicing that she has reached her heavenly home, safe in the arms of Jesus.

Turns Of Life And Death

My intent had been to post my 3rd Quarter sales results today. Alas, I’m not going to. My mother-in-law, age 93, has taken a turn for the worse. We will have to move her to a hospice care facility today. Not sure how close her death is. And I’m to make my last of four trips to Minneapolis tomorrow, up and back in a long day. I’ll have to see if I can even go.

Blogging is on hold until the situation clears.

What’s Up With August?

About a week ago I remembered that I was right about the time of an anniversary—within a day or two of it. It got me thinking about all the things that have happened in the Augusts of my life. That’s not to say all momentous things happened in August. I met the woman I would marry in May, and we were married in January. Our children were born in January and April. All but one of our various moves happened in other months. Yes, the entire calendar is filled with important things, spread out.

But, it seems to me that August has claimed more than its fair share. Several of these events are wrapped around my genealogy research, so are not really a result of outside causes.

Here they are, in the order they occurred.

  • August 19, 1965: My mom died. I was 13.
  • August 2, 1990: Iraq invaded Kuwait, which was my expatriate home. We were in the USA on vacation at the time, and couldn’t go back as a family, though both Lynda and I got to go back, recover some things of our life there, and say goodbye.
  • August 26, 1997: My dad died, at age 81.
  • August 1998: I don’t remember the exact date of this one; it was toward the end of the month. Using clues I found when we cleaned out Dad’s house after his death, I made contact with my mom’s family. She was an only child and supposedly had no cousins. In fact, on her mom’s side, she was one of 11 first cousins plus 5 step-first cousins. I had my first phone calls with them in August, and met the first ones in November.
  • August 13, 2005: I was contacted by one of Lynda’s cousins, a first cousin once removed, to share genealogy information. I had this woman’s name in a file based on what Lynda’s dad left behind, but had no idea how to contact her. She found me based on my posts on various genealogy internet sites. This was a branch of the family I had little information on. Now I have it complete.
  • My half-sister and me in Branson, MO; Oct 2014

    August 11, 2014: A cousin in New York—one of those 11 first cousins of my mom discovered in 1998—contacted me, saying she had been contacted by a woman who had been adopted at birth but who, DNA testing revealed, was related. Looking at the data, it appeared my mother was her mother. I talked with the woman the next day and we began the process of confirming what the data suggested. Sure enough, DNA confirmed she was my half-sister. That confirmation came on September 1, 2014. Missed August by a day.

  • August 2015: No longer able to live on her own, my mother-in-law came to live with us.
  • August 2017: I’m not sure the exact date, but probably before August 10, using DNA triangulation, I was able to determine with great certainty who my mother’s father was. Before that I had a name, given me by my not-always-truthful grandmother, but had reached a dead end confirming it. That confirmation came when three of us had certain common relatives on 23andme. That allowed me to know what to search for, and in a matter of two hours I had found many official documents about my grandfather, including his World War 1 Canadian military record. That gave me 13 new first cousins (well, half-first-cousins, but let’s not be picky) and numerous other relatives. I haven’t put together the full list of my mom’s first cousins. DNA confirmation of this information came several months later.

So there’s the list. I don’t know how they strike you, but to me they are all momentous events.

But, am I over-thinking this? Might I not find, if I searched my life, that each month would have it’s collection of momentous events? Perhaps. For now, however, I’ll stick with August as the pivotal month in many of the years of my life.

Joyfully Babysitting

Yes, the wife and I are babysitting the three older grandchildren, while their parents have some engagements that required both of them. It’s been a great couple of days, and the end is not yet. I’m working half-days while we are sitting.

So, I wasn’t able to get a real post written and uploaded for today. Once I finish my work for the day, I shift to writing tasks. My main one is re-reading The Gutter Chronicles: Volume 2 in a rapid manner. Rather than looking for structural edits, line edits, or fixing typos (all of which I’ll do if needed), I’m looking for duplication. When I read it aloud to Lynda, I noticed some areas that seemed repetitious—such as repeating something about a character three or four chapters apart, something that only needs to be mentioned once in the book.

I’ll be back with a new post on Monday, possibly a writer interview.

Book Review: The Day of Battle

During World War 2, my dad had an interesting story. Older than the average G.I. at 26 when the war broke out for the USA, he found himself in North Africa, staging to go on the invasion of Italy. Just before he embarked, he was transferred to the Stars and Stripes, the G.I. newspaper and on his way to Algiers to set type. Before long he was in Italy, setting type on the mobile unit of the paper: within sound of the guns.

Rick Atkinson is an excellent war historian and writer.

So, some years ago I found The Day of Battle: The War in Sicily and Italy at some discount store, I grabbed it. It sat in my reading pile for a couple of years, until I finally read it beginning last fall and ending in early January.

I’m glad I did read it. Rick Atkinson has done a wonderful job of making the war in these areas come alive. He deals with the generals and the soldiers. He helps the reader see what it was like to be pushed forward by Patton. Or how impossible missions were undertaken in Italy and men slaughtered as a result. I had never read any detailed information about the campaign in Italy. Atkinson brought it alive for me.

I’ve read some of the reviews on Amazon. Most are positive, though a few are that are negative. At least one criticized Atkinson for using obscure words. He did have a few of those, but, in my mind, not many. I only looked up one or two. I was able to pass over the others without loss of meaning. A few seemed to be military technical terms.

This book is a keeper. I have a fair collection of WW2 books. Most I’ve never read, and those I’ve read I haven’t retained as well as I wish I had. Someday in the future I might pick this one up again, and re-read it. Or, if I ever do get around to writing that memoir of my mom and dad, this could be source material for the conditions Dad worked in.

If I review this on Amazon, I’ll give it 4 or 5 stars.