Category Archives: family

Danny Tompkins Short Stories, family, Writing

Limited Writing Time

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This week looks to be a dud as far as writing goes. We have out-of-town family in-town. Not staying with us, but staying in the area and performing each night at the Country Gospel Music Association convention being held in Springdale. I believe the performances are each night from last night through Friday, and maybe some during the day on Saturday. We went last night, not getting home until almost midnight. The 5:45 AM alarm seemed kind of early this morning.

And actually, I didn’t get much writing done over the weekend. On Friday this illness that has beset me, be it Lyme disease or whatever it is, seemed to flare up a little. Saturday we went to see a matinée performance of the last Harry Potter movie, then shopping. I came home and felt totally wasted, perhaps the result of all the popcorn I ate. By Sunday afternoon I was better and was able to…

…format and upload “Mom’s Letter” to Smashwords. It was easier than expected. The Smashwords Style Guide is long, but as it turned out my MS Word file was mostly according to the style guide. Almost immediately I had a sale, and I’ve had the sample portion downloaded four other times. I like the statistics that Smashword gives; much nicer than Kindle. You can see more items, and have a better feel for what’s going on. That’s all on the page for the book if you are logged in as the author. Then there’s another stats page that gives even more information. As I say, very nice.

So, I don’t know if I’ll be going every night to the sing or not. I suspect so, in which case I’ll get little writing done this week. I’ll try to make a blog post or two, before work, on breaks, or on the noon hour.

family, Writing

Planning and Scheming

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In early June two events take place in the Chicago area that are a lure for us to make the 10.5 hour drive there. Of course, with our son living there, attending grad school at the University of Chicago, we didn’t need too many excuses. Still, the pull to make the 3.5 hour drive to Oklahoma City to see grandbabies is just as big of a lure, and the less cost and time means we make that trip much more.

The two events are the Publishers Row Book Fair and the Write To Publish Writers Conference. The book fair is in downtown Chicago, on June 4-5. We went to it a couple of years ago (or was it three?), and had a great time despite intermittent rain. Numerous publishers and booksellers set up shop on city streets and hock their wares, mostly used books, but some new as well. Some writer organizations were there, such as the Romance Writers of America. I know Lynda got to meet one of her favorite romance authors and get her purchases signed. Some readings were included. I got to talk to a couple of publishers, both of which turned out to be dead ends.

That year, on the same weekend, was a large art fair in the Hyde Park area of the city. We went to the book fair on Saturday and the art fair on Sunday. We bought on Sat. and looked on Sun. Both were interesting.

I attended that writers conference back in 2004, the first national conference I attended. I haven’t been back since, partly because it’s on the expensive side. It’s held in Wheaton on the Wheaton College campus. I think it’s a beautiful campus, though in 2004 a lot of construction meant we were dodging and weaving on odd paths and not exploring the campus. I learned a lot at that event, and have been wanting to get back to it, though our trip to the book fair a couple of years ago did not include conference attendance. This year it’s June 8-11.

This year is different. We actually have three events to attend. On June 11 Charles will receive his doctorate, a PhD in Philosophy. Last week he successfully defended his dissertation, so the degree will be conferred and he’ll be “hooded” on the 11th. It’s been a long haul for him. He earned his masters at Tufts University in 2003, and might have finished his doctorate a couple of years ago had he not had to work to make ends meet. We’re happy for him. In a future post I’ll say what his disertation title is and maybe describe it. I read one of his papers derived from the same subject matter. Actually, how about I just link to his website and let you look it up.

So that’s the main reason for the trip. Knowing we were going, I applied for a scholarship to the writers conference, and was one of eight to receive one. I doubt I would have applied had we not been going to Chicago anyway, but I figured why not. So I will be attending that with all expenses paid (except transportation). I have an evening event on the 7th with the other scholarship winners. So we’ll go up early and attend the book fair as well, make a long trip of it. If the art fair is also on, perhaps we’ll drive up on the 3rd, attend the book fair on the 4th, the art fair on the 5th, the writers conference the evening of the 7th through the morning of the 11th, and graduation on the 11th. Lynda will stay with Charles, not with me at the conference.

Planning and scheming are in progress. It would be nice to have a print copy of Documenting America in my hands to show everyone. Maybe I could even lure a publisher into picking up future volumes in the series. Although I’ve decided to self-publish, I haven’t completely given up the dream of being judged worthy of acceptance by a legacy publisher.

family, Writing

The Last Five Days

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Yesterday afternoon when Ephraim got up from his nap he asked for “Grandpa Todd” to play with him. And last night he wanted Grandpa Todd to read him stories and put him to bed. Unfortunately, Grandpa Todd had left Oklahoma City as soon as Ephraim was put down for his nap. The four day weekend was over.

It was chock-full of activities. On Friday I took a day of vacation and drove there with my mother-in-law, Lynda already being there. Once in OKC we stopped first at the library of Oklahoma City University, where I accessed a certain periodical needed for my Wesley research, which I had electronically looked for in other places but found there. That was a half hour. Then it was on to Richard and Sara’s house for the family activities. On Saturday we celebrated Ephraim’s third birthday, with a family and church folks party. It was a madhouse, but fun. All the Oklahoma people had their ears glued to the radio for the Thunder vs. Grizzlies game.

On Sunday Ezra David Schneberger was dedicated, not by his pastor-father, but by the District Superintendent. I knew this DS and his wife from my brief single days in Kansas City, back in 1974-75, but we hadn’t seen each other since. It was nice to be reacquainted. Then after church we celebrated Mother’s Day by going out for Indian food. We figured most restaurants would be jambed, but this ethnic one would have seats available. It did, and the food was good as always.

Monday I took another day of vacation and we hung around until 2:15 PM, then drove back. In the morning Ephraim and I went for a walk, about 30 minutes, during which time he found many treasures to take home. Then I gave Ezra a bottle (pumped breast milk), and held him a long time outside, constantly moving him to help him work on his balance and exercise his arms and legs. He finally fell sound asleep and we didn’t hear from him for a couple of hours. I’d have held him longer if I wasn’t called in for lunch.

In still moments I read some in a technical paper for work, and about 30 pages in the first volume of John Wesley’s Journal. This was all introductory material, not the journal itself. Talked with Richard, talked with Sara. Simply enjoyed the time.

So I know all of you wondered why I let five days go by without a post. I should have prepared a post or two ahead of time and scheduled them, and will try to do better the next time I’m to be gone. I didn’t totally forget about writing those last five days, just subjugated it to family needs.

Of course, I told Ephraim when he went down for his Monday nap that I wouldn’t be there when he got up, and that I wanted to read him a story and see him to his bed. “NO! Daddy do it” was his reply. That’s okay. A three-year old has to learn lessons of opportunity. And he’ll learn them, and I’ll have lots of other times to read him stories.

family

Ezra David Schneberger

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At 6:32 AM, in Oklahoma City, our daughter Sara gave birth at home to our second grandchild, Ezra David Schneberger. He was born at home, in a birthing pool, after just 1 hour and fifty minutes of labor. Mother and child are fine.
His brother Ephraim slept through the big event, and looks kind of sleepy holding his baby brother.
Off to write a cinqain commemorating the event.
ETA: 7lb 6 oz, 20 inches
family, Genealogy

A Bounty of Photographs

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The last three days has brought me just that—a bounty of photographs. Old ones, family ones.

On Monday we received a package in the mail from Lynda’s cousin Robyn. She had been in touch with Lynda via Facebook and e-mail, saying she had some Cheney family photos passed down from her mom. Given that I function as the main family historian, she thought we should have it. Also included were some papers: a souvenir marriage certificate for their common grandparents, a deed, and some other things.

One of the photos is a view of the Cheney ranch, south of Fowler, Kansas. It shows men on horseback or on foot, women on horseback, and four children, probably boys, atop a shed; twelve people in all. You can see a number of outbuildings, including a large barn, a stone shed that is still standing, buildings that show in other photos, and I think the homestead house in the background. In the foreground are cattle in a barbwire corral.

I already have a copy of this, but it is only a photocopy of it. And, either on the original or on the first photocopy, someone wrote what each thing was and drew arrows all over the photo! Not smart. This one is clean, the top right of the photo being damaged, but it shows only sky and could probably be restored. Other photos include siblings, uncles, scenes. At least one other photo is one I’ve never seen before, and I’ve never had a real one of the ranch scene.

On Tuesday I received a phone call from my nephew, Chris. He was contacted by a man in England. That man had photos of our family (though I don’t think he’s related) that were in the possession of my grandfather’s oldest sibling, Mabel Todd. The photos sent so far are of the two brothers who came to America, and one wife (not my grandmother, though that’s supposedly coming. Actually, the one I’m calling a wife of the brother of my grandfather is not identified, but it’s by the same photographer who shot the brother, so it makes sense. I don’t know if more photos are coming or not, but I think so.

It’s amazing what’s out there for your family history is you only look. This contact from England was out of the blue. Chris wasn’t even researching Todd genealogy at the time, when up pops the e-mail: Hey, I’m in England, I’ve got pictures of your family; want them? That’s called a random act of genealogical kindness.

Now, when I issue the next edition of Seth Boynton Cheney: Mystery Man of the West, I’ll have a decent quality photo to include of the ranch scene, not that old one that was barely viewable. And if I ever write a book about the Todds, I’ll have a bit more to go on.

Now, someday, I hope to organize everything. I had an antique dresser that’s close to full of photos. Some are ones we took back in our constant picture taking days; some are accumulated Todd-Vick-Sexton family. In a couple of binds I have Cheney-Stephens family photos, also needed organization and better preservation. Oh how I need to get to all of that and not leave it to my children when I reach room temperature.

family

The Ephraim Factor

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I’m in The Dungeon on a quiet Sunday afternoon, but not for long. After a good Sunday school hour and church service, we met our daughter and son-in-law for Mexican food, a party of six all together, including my mother-in-law and number 1 grandson, Ephraim. You see, he has been with us for the last few days. Sara and Richard were given a two night stay at a resort in northwest Oklahoma, which they took Friday-Saturday. Richard let his associate fill the pulpit this morning.

They came up Thursday, stayed a night with us, left Ephraim here and went on to their time away. Ephraim has been a delight. Two and a half years old on Thursday, he is gaining all the skills we expect of a child at that age. Motor skills, body strength, ability to play by himself, use of numbers for a purpose, not just as an exercise. Ability to put simple sentences together in correct context.

Yesterday he helped grandpa in the “woods”, the vacant lot next to ours where I’m slowly cutting up a fallen tree. Mostly he played around, but he was with me. Last night it was great to see him play with new toys, watch a video (Dumbo), and hear stories read.

I just spent a wonderful hour of typing on the passage notes in my harmony of the gospels. The sounds of the house were ever in the background: a heater fan in the downstairs bathroom. Acorns hitting the deck or roof, somewhere way above me. Water running—perhaps Lynda starting a load of laundry, with many footsteps across the floor above. Richard getting up from his nap. Sara getting up from hers. Finally, there was the other expected sound. Not the pitter-patter of little feet, but the explosion of toddler energy in rapid footsteps accompanied by high-pitch cries. Ephraim is up from his nap!

Why am I still down here? I have only a few more hours with him. Eight o’clock, or maybe nine, and he’ll go down for the night. Unfortunately, a very high workload means I have to follow a normal schedule tomorrow, or maybe even go to work early. I’ll be drinking my second or third cup of coffee by the time someone peeks in his room and finds him happy and ready to get up.

So I shall leave writing for now, as I have all weekend. Ephraim is up. I will go play with him, and perhaps sing about lollipops and teddy bears and do the hokey-pokey one more time, or twice. His younger brother is making his cameo appearance at the house, safely in amniotic fluid, not expected to breathe on earth until March 19, 2011. It’s good to see him in his bump. But I go and spend the time with Ephraim. Farewell to The Dungeon for the day.

family, Fowler, Meade

Road Trip No. 2 is Over

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We returned last night from southwest Kansas, 1067 miles after starting. The main purpose for the trip was my wife’s high school reunion, but I scheduled much more around that. We had time with aunts and cousins. We visited two family cemeteries. We attended the old home church. We went to the county fair. We took late evening walks of more than a mile, after the temperature dropped below 90, and marveled at the clarity of the Milky way. We visited the hometown museum, which is much changed since I last went in it thirty years ago.

And we visited the old homestead where Charles and Zippy Thompson lived for thirty years. No, Zippy is not a nickname. I’ve often wondered why Isaac and Sarah Chappell named their second daughter Zippy Ellen Chappell, but they died about a hundred years before I knew her name was Zippy, who herself died in 1962, fourteen years before I married in. Lynda’s mom was with us for the homestead tour. In fact, she’s the main reason I wanted to make the trip. Well, I wanted to see it too. Thirty-four years of trips to Meade and no one ever suggested we try to find the place where the sod house was built into a hillside, and the spring house kept the meat and produce cool. No, the fixation was always on the Cheney family and the last stop of the wandering 49er.

But Esther had spent much time at her grandparent’s farm/ranch on the Finney/Haskell county line. She helped tend the vegetable garden, pick flowers, slept on a mat on the earthen floor, used the outhouse, and spent a rustic week of enjoyment with grandma and grandpa. Esther enjoyed the visit most of all, carefully stepping over a variety of critter holes, abandoned farm equipment, and building debris with her 85 year-old legs, and getting Texas tacks on her slacks, recalling what she experienced seven or eight decades previously. Lynda enjoyed it too. Her cousin Trish carried off a souvenier, an old over cover.

We also visited a scene of less happy memories, where my wife’s two aunts perished in the blizzard of 1948, the year before my wife was born. Esther and Faye, the two remaining sisters who were not with the others for that fateful car ride, showed where the car got stuck, where Louise’s body was found three days later at the bottom of a ravine, where Phyllis died, and where their friend Marvin apparently tried to make it back to the car but failed in hie attempt. That visit was harder than the other, which is likely the reason we never did that tour before. We drove that road maybe thirty years ago, but no one asked, “Where exactly did the girls die?”

One other unhappy but necessary visit was with Lynda’s cousin Bobby, from Cimarron. His 33 year-old daughter committed suicide a year ago. We talked with him a couple of months after it happened, but this was the first time to see him. He explained how nothing helped with the healing. I hope something we said did, though. Bobby keeps up the Cheney plot in Fowler Cemetery, and was driving down on Sunday to do so when we suggested we drive up to see him. So we met at Aunt Rosa’s house in Fowler and again at the cemetery. One lighter moment came when he pointed out that a man buried right next to the Cheneys was named Jerry Garcia. Bobby says he has a lot of fun telling people he mows Jerry Garcia’s grave, and they think him a celebrity of sorts. Not being a Grateful Dead fan that went over my head until Bobby explained it.

Many memories made, and recalled, on a good six-day trip, concluded by meeting up with other cousins at Baxter Springs, Kansas, as we returned home yesterday, and dining on old Route 66. May there be many more such times and trips.

construction, family, miscellaneous

The End is not Yet

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I can’t believe how busy I am. Even while in Oklahoma City this last weekend to celebrate my grandson’s birthday, and Mother’s Day, I had much to do with the church parking lot–e-mails and figuring. By Saturday evening I was mentally exhausted, and sat down to watch Saturday Night Live, something I haven’t done since 1974. And something I won’t do again for perhaps another 36 years. What a disgusting show.

Work is very busy. I have no time to write, no time to read for pleasure. No time to exercise. No time to keep up this blog. I’ll keep trying. The first glimmer of light should pop up around the 19th.

family

Ephraim’s first big adventure

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You all might be wondering why I haven’t posted more this month. Of course the bout with pneumonia was the first thing. Then Tuesday night I came down with a stomach/intestinal virus of some sort. All “action” was done by Wednesday morning, but I too weak and tire to go to work. So I slept in, then spent time between the couch and my reading chair–not reading but just laying my head back. By the end of the day my stomach felt much better and I had a little energy. Still went to bed about 10 PM.

But, the other reason for my lack of writing is: grandson Ephraim is with us! We have kept him a time or two before, but only for a night and a day while the kids got away. With son-in-law Richard in Boston on a two-week residency for his doctor of ministry degree, daughter Sara and wife Lynda decided we would keep Ephraim for at least one of those weeks, allowing Sara to get caught up with many things around the house. So last weekend we made the drive to Oklahoma City and drove him back to Bella Vista.

So far, all is well. Mother-in-law Esther came out from Bentonville to stay with us and help out. Ephraim knows grandma real well from all the times she’s stayed with them, but not grandpa so much. So I’ve had to work hard to get him to warm up to me. It’s working. He’s letting to read to him, and enjoys when I build block towers that he can knock down.

On Tuesday night (before I knew I was coming down with that thing) he let me do the honors of reading and rocking before bedtime. After reading, I took him into his room and sang to him–not baby songs, but some of the old hymns of the church. Then I prayed with him–not baby prayers, but a grown-up prayer for his sleeping through the night and getting over the little bit of cold that is lingering in him. When I put him in his crib he was not asleep, yet he laid down fine with no complaints. This is a change, for when Lynda does that he cries and wants her to hold him and rock him some more. Ah, it must be grandpa’s touch.

I think the current plan is that daughter Sara will drive up to see us this weekend, but will leave Ephraim here for another week. That’s fine with me, though it may continue to put a crimp in my writing. That’s okay, as he will never be 20 1/2 months again. Writing can wait.

family, miscellaneous

The Best Laid Plans…

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Yesterday afternoon, 5:30 PM to be precise, I was basking in the solitude of a quiet house, and the prospect of several days with evenings to myself and the time to begin work on my new writing gig while at the same time work on this blog and articles for Suite101.com.

Then a call came from my wife. She drove our daughter and grandson back to OKC yesterday (son-in-law having left the day before that to be in his pulpit Sunday morning). It seems our daughter did not have her main suitcase; would I check in the basement bedroom? Sure enough, there it was. She had said something to me about her suitcase still downstairs and might have asked if I would bring it up, but that was 30 or more minutes before they left. I asked her right as she left if she had everything from downstairs. She said yes, I suppose assuming I had gone downstairs to get the suitcase. I almost asked her to go down and make one more sweep. Should have.

We made tentative plans to meet tonight, maybe in Tulsa, and do the transfer. Meanwhile Lynda did some checking on-line, and determined a bus company had a bus leaving from Rogers at 1:50 AM and would have the suitcase in Oklahoma City by 2:30 PM. I spent some time debating whether to do that, or just to wait and see what I could do today, since my office is just a couple of miles from that bus stop. I decided to not be lazy and instead to tie up the suitcase, put it in the pickup, and drive the 15 miles. I got there at 12:30 AM. The bus would arrive at 1:30 AM. I had a pleasant time reading in my current selection from the reading pile for that hour.

The bus arrived on time–Great! But then I learned that the driver can’t accept freight that wasn’t already ticketed. I would have to come back during normal business hours and have the agent ticketed. Oh, well, about two hours wasted, and a late night to bed. At 1:45 AM I headed home.

But, I must first backtrack. About a mile from the bus stop (which is at a convenience store at the highway exit), the truck began acting rough–loud engine noises. What was going on? Was it low oil level? I was several thousand miles behind on having it serviced. No, the oil pressure gauge showed good pressure. I left the convenience store and headed home, deciding to drive through town and avoid the high speeds of the convenient Interstate. This took me right past our new office, the Ford garage near the office, and the Wal-Mart Supercenter. However, despite the rough sounds of the engine and the oil pressure gauge now pegged at zero, I kept going.

It got to sounding so bad that I decided to stop at the Phillips 66 station/convenience store in Bella Vista. In the near darkness I couldn’t really see what the oil level was, but it looked low. I put in two quarts, started the car, and the oil pressure gauge showed a good level. Headed down the road and the gauge pegged zero within a block. I stopped, checked to make sure I had the cap on tight, and decided to drive the remaining seven miles home. When I got there I was too wound up to go to bed, so finished the chapter in the book and got to bed at 3 AM.

Up at 7:30 AM, called the Ford garage four miles from the house, and after I described the problem they said to drive it in. Got there at 8:10 AM. Sat till 8:45 AM, when they told me the engine was blown. It was just a matter of time before it locked up, maybe a mile, maybe a month. Why did it do that, I asked them? Low oil? Oil pump quit? Long term damage that just reached a critical point between 12:30 and 2:00 AM on a Monday morning? No way to know. I waited some time at the dealership before telling them to go ahead. And while they are at it, to check the clutch too. The other Ford garage told me a year ago it was bad, and I’ve been nursing it, trying to get by for as long as possible.

They gave me a loaner for the duration. Went home, ate an early lunch, headed to the bus depot, got the bag on the 12:30 PM departure, and arrived at the office.

With my equilibrium and my tranquility quite upset. Haven’t gotten much done today, but will try to knuckle down as soon as I get this posted. Did I cause the engine damage by letting the servicing go? Was it just time for it to happen, and it happened in the wee hours when my back-up transportation and cell phone was in Oklahoma City? All I know is the outcome, which is in a week I will be considerably poorer, with my emergency fund, auto repair fund, and savings significantly drained.