Bob Gibson, Tim McCarver, Bob Uecker, Ken Boyer, Julian Javier, Curt Boyer, Lou Brock, Mike Shannon . . .

Those names came out of my memory from the mid to late 60's.  Surprise!
I was a big Cardinals' fan due to the influence of my brother Glen, who was very interested in their game.  We listened to games on the car radio a lot.  Anyone else remember that? 

I became an addict.  I would actually keep score during a game.  I knew all the players and lots of players from other teams.  Yep, Lou Brock could steal those bases now!  

When I left for college, I lost baseball and discovered people.  I fell in love with the game of tennis and played for hours at a time.  I continued this until after I was married.  Tennis remained in my life for awhile but I lost tennis. 

I played intramural basketball in college, and I was lousy.  I wasn't good at anything but free throws.  I once won a tournament making 22/25 shots.  My claim to fame.  haha 

I loved Field Hockey in a class I had. 

I played horse shoes with my elderly neighbor and with my brothers at home.

I read a lot and didn't feel I was really a tomboy.  But I practiced hitting balls to my brother so much that I could place them where he wanted them to go.

I played on a softball team after we were married, at Plato.

When Phil met me, he thought I was a jock.  So he told me the other day.  Not true.  Just loved sports.

Also loved card games.  Love interaction.

Places We've Lived and a Few Other Things

While I was vacuuming a few minutes ago, I thought, "Wow, we've lived here 61/2 years.  That's a record for us in the last 10 years!  Then, I started thinking about all the places we've lived and recording it is more fun than vacuuming!  BREAK TIME!

Phil and I met in June, 1973, and were married in Dec. 1973.  For about six weeks we lived in my little apartment in the back of a house at Lynchburg.
I loved to watch the sunsets there!  Next door lived a little girl whom I taught in kindergarten, Toni Sue Coomes, who is now my very grown up Facebook friend.  The sunset looked like it happened right on their farm!

Next, we moved down a gravel road (same one as Vaughans, Tracys, Messengers, and Penleys) into a trailer owned by a man named Kenneth Royster.  We had a flat yard (a commodity I've come to appreciate). 

This was the first place Stacy and Stephen visited us for three months.  Here, one of my most horrible memories is getting up in the morning and finding a dead mouse that had been roasted in the toaster.  Phil had eaten toast and gone to work.  I wouldn't touch that creature, but Stephen who was about six would climb up on a chair and look at it all day long.  When Phil came home, he took the toaster apart and cleaned it, because we were too poor to buy anything.  I "swore" never to eat out of "that side" of the toaster again. I'm pretty positive I kept my word --yep!

Another memory I have is being so sick, both of us, with the flu at once.  Kenny and Carol came over and risked getting the flu, and our trailer was a mess.  I remember that. 

We could walk through a field and make a long trip down a hill to the banks of Roubidoux.  I remember sitting on a rock and catching one blue gill after another.  Now, that's fishing!

Place number three probably happened by the next summer.  We moved into what Phil called "Uncle Frank's house."  It was an old, old house.  Cecil Benson had owned it, and Phil's brother Kenny had bought it.  He and Phil put in a new FLOOR and a new linoleum before we moved in.  We had no furniture, so Phil went looking in Mtn. Grove where he worked at a Richard's Brothers Grocery Store.  He found a couch, chair, refrigerator, bed, and washer and dryer and more for $500.  We probably borrowed that.   Stace and Steve slept in the old upstairs which had a bare wood floor, and I'm talking boards.  Phil's mom bought some big pieces of carpet so they could have a space at opposite ends of the upstairs.  Phil shot through a packrat hole and we never saw the pack rat again, but I knew I had married a crazy man.

(For some of my friends on Facebook:  Pam, Penny, Jessica, Diane Barnes, Dee Dee Connelly, and others, you were a bunch of beautiful little girls running around the town with Stacy.  I was in a lot of trouble that summer for not letting her be gone from home too long at a time.  Schoolteacher me. I was supposedly the only one who had those rules?  I doubt that now.

READ THIS PARAGRAPH IF YOU READ NO OTHER.  At this time, Phil and I decided we needed to move our church membership from Roby and go to Plato Baptist where we lived where we felt they needed us most.  We weren't all that mature, but we hit upon a wise fact!  At this time, we were squeezing every penny, and I'm not exaggerating.  We were borrowing money for plane tickets for the kids and paying it back all year, and doing it again the next year.  Our  groceries were exactly what we needed and nothing more.  We paid cheap rent, child support, and that's about it.
But we made a decision.  WE DECIDED TO TITHE ON OUR INCOME--10%.  We decided to do it at the beginning of the month, 'cause God said, "Try me and prove me in this area in His word."  I'm pretty sure we didn't have the faith to think this would work and then we would be in financial straits by the end of the month.  THAT DIDN'T HAPPEN; IT WAS A MIRACLE.  HE MET ALL OUR NEEDS.  I'll never forget that, never, never, never.

Since then, we've tithed our 10 percent, and God has blessed us unbelievably in many areas of our lives, including financially.  Although it took years of hard work to accomplish a lot of things, we saw God's hand almost immediately.  We, who started with nothing but responsibilities, saw God make it possible for us to buy a house . . . a nice little three bed home very well built.  It is the one Bill and Laura own now, and Bill, Kay, and Laura have made it into a beautiful place.

As for us, we bought it from a man and wife who had six children.  It was "a mess."  And the biggest blessing you can imagine!!!!!!
We had a friend from school redo the hardwood floors but they were pretty scarred up.  It was dirty, yes.  The yard had sprouts and rocks.  Phil did a lot of work on that yard.  We were there for two or three years, and we would've been a lot longer if my dad hadn't gotten a wild hair to move to Texas County.  We sold him the house on impulse.    He moved back to Ripley County after a couple years to be near his parents.

In this home Stacy and Stephen had their own rooms, and Stacy spent quite a bit of time with the girls up the road.  Steve seemed to be a loner or there just weren't as many guys around.

When we sold the house, we had some profit.  We rented an old farmhouse with a separate building with an outhouse.  We bought some land and started having a house built by a carpenter, Elwin Tracy, who worked by the hour!  What a blessing, and what a strong house he built.  This was in the fall, and it didn't get finished until the next April. 

Meanwhile, Josh was born.  Two days later the house we were renting, while waiting for the new house to be built, burned and we lost all our stuff.  (The new babe and we were at my parents).  The Plato community rallied and took such good care of us.  We stayed with my parents for six weeks and Phil's for six weeks and then we moved our new baby into the new house.  It was April and I think the 100 dogwoods around our house on a two acre lot were in bloom.

We lived there for 12 years.  The boys had Bo, the dog, and Arrow, the cat.  They had trails in the woods nearby and lots of fun there.  Stacy and Stephen spent time there as well.  It was there that we woke up one night to see a skunk in our bedroom.  That's another story!

Jordan was born and was brought home there.   Grandpa George Hall, Stephen, and Josh were sitting on the front porch waiting for him to get home. 

In 1991, we decided to move to Houston, MO.  I had left Plato Schools and started teaching in Houston, and we loved the community.  The boys had good friends and a good education there.  We lived above the Big Piney River and could see some of it.  We had 11 acres and four or 5 to mow.  Those boys know how to mow, don't let anybody tell you otherwise!

In 2003, Phil and I retired and moved to Cape Fair.  We lived there when Hannah, Reagan Rose, Sophie, and Judah were born.  We had a wonderful lake view but I pushed until we moved closer to grandchildren.  We had some wonderful times there and in the First Baptist Church of Cape Fair.

So we moved here to Ozark.  Both Phil and I believe that is what God did in order to help with grandkids, because then two little boys, the lights of our lives, Levi and Jackson were born, and we cared for them in our home quite a bit.  (Yes, God just moved them to IN, as he moved Jordan's fam to Mt, but He's the boss, and He knows what's best).

Now, that's the somewhat, not so interesting, story of our residences.  I could've made each more interesting by taking them one by one.  However, I wanted to just get it down.  I don't proofread and I don't rewrite.  Better to write something quickly than nothing at all, I guess.

New Normal for Rose and Phil

Hmmmm.  My last post was in December, 2009.  How can that be?

We are starting a new normal around here.  Our son Jordan and family moved to Montana 5 years ago.  We have lived in Ozark over 6 years where we have been hands-on grandparents to Josh and Rachel's kids who are now 10, 8, 5, and 3.  A week ago they moved to Camby, IN, near Indianapolis to "plant" a church.

So what are we doing--just us--like we started out over 39 years ago? We are just fine.  Phil is hanging my new popping poppy canvas over the couch.  We are expecting new carpet in the next two or three weeks.
We are moving some long-time "blue" pictures to the computer room, as we call it.

We continue to find small toys tucked away here and there and are putting some away for when the grandkids visit.

We are looking forward to having our granddaughter Maddie visit the last week of July and the Hall reunion on Aug. 3.

It is our plan to meet Jordan and Mandy (Reagan Rose, Judah, and Baby Piper) somewhere in the next couple months--maybe in Denver. 

God is so good to us.  We are appreciating our home, our yard, our church, the wonderful people that make up our church, and looking forward to taking care of "life." 

My blogs may be boring, but I plan to do some again!

Remember, Jesus loves you!

The Stars Fell From the Sky

THE STARS FELL FROM THE SKY!

I love my grandchildren more than all the stars in the sky. That's what I tell them, and that's what I mean! That's a lot, a whole bunch! When I say I love them more than all the stars in the sky, I'm not talking about just the number of star although that's an awesome number. I'm also thinking about the brightness of the stars on a very clear, cold night. I'm picturing the beauty of the stars above Table Rock Lake where I was on the top of the world looking down on God's amazing and wonderful creation. I'm remembering the stars near the creek where I grew up and had the blessing of looking at the stars, most of my growing up years, with no artificial lights to dim them.

When I ponder on the beauty of the stars, I am taken back to the time the "stars fell out of the sky."

It was awesome, spectacular, unbelievable, and very frightening. It was November 17, 1966,
when my mom was cooking breakfast prior to daylight. She noticed "sparks" out the window and thought the house might be on fire. Instead, it was soon apparent that stars were zipping by the dozens at a very fast speed and all at once from the sky. Was the world coming to an end? What was this?


My dad insisted that I run to my grandparents' house slightly less than a quarter of a mile "across the creek" and wake them, because whatever this was, they wouldn't ever see it again.


What an absolutely terrifying trip, over the footlog, and across the way. Again, I say, it appeared to me that every star in the sky was falling and at a fast speed. (I'll never see it again). By the time I got Grandpa and Grandma woke up, alas, the show had stopped, and the world was still turning.



We soon found out, via the radio, that this was a magnificent meteor shower. I looked it up on the internet and found that the "November 17, 1966 Leonid Meteor Shower was the largest meteor shower in our lifetime with a reported 150,000 meteors entering our atmosphere every hour, that's over 40 per second."




That was was one of the most memorable moments of my life and I wanted to record it. God is such an awesome God. I'm thankful I'm a child of His, and that when the world ends as scripturally defined, I am ready. I am happy to have seen this spectacular God event, and I am so blessed to love my sons and daughters-in-law and grandchildren more than all the stars in the sky!!!!!

Once Upon A Creek

Oh, the creek. My thoughts. My dreams. The clear, quiet rippling water with its crawdads and minnows. The loud roar of a small creek during a flood. The calm, clear high water after the flood.

The creek was. I didn't give it a lot of thought. But I "thought" many, many hours while staring into the clear ripples. Sitting on the gravel near the creek, I dreamed the dreams young girls dream. It was "my" place. There was just enough of a creekbank so that I could hide behind it and not be seen from the house. The creek coud be so PEACEFUL. (And let me tell you, I can skip rocks with the best of them from the practice I had while"thinking").

Our house was basically in a valley but sitting on a small knoll. When the creek "got out of its banks," as small streams do very quickly with heavy rains, I was, when I was small, afraid it would come up and wash away our house. It always stopped just short of the knoll, not that far away. Before the creek escaped its boundaries, it was a roaring train, taking with it everything in its path. We watched trees washing down that body of swelling water. We threw in sticks to watch them bounce down the creek. A "flood" was great reason for excitement, and nature gives the best!

There were many times when the creek spilled from its banks and filled the field almost up to our house. The most memorable time for me is when the tractor and wagon were sitting in the field. The water isn't that swift once it's out of the banks but it still carries a bit of power.
My dad asked one of my brothers to wade down to the tractor and unfasten the wagon, for he feared a log would catch it and carry the whole thing down the stream. The wagon was unhooked, and lo and behold, it went floating down the field and creek. Whoopee!

The creek didn't have a bridge to wash out, and it always filled up with fresh, loose gravel in the crossing. My dad would figure out the best way to ford the creek by finding where it was most solid. The interesting part was when visitors, usually relatives from afar, came across the creek, they inevitably sunk into the fresh gravel and sand, and out came the tractor to the rescue.

There were, of course, times when that little creek became such a monster that nobody could cross it. It had a footlog. The footlog was a large tree that had been felled across the creek. It was fastened with a log chain to a tree or roots at the high bank. At the lower bank, on the opposite side, I think it was loosely tied. Above it, from one tree to another, was a strong rusty cable that one could hold onto while crossing the footlog. That cable was literally a lifeline.
I was terrified of crossing the creek especially when the waters below were swirling and angry from flooding. "Don't look down. Don't look down."

We needed to traverse the creek to go to school, so the footlog was a daily experience.
In addition to the main stream, we had to cross two other branches that flowed into it . Those we could usually cross by stepping on rocks and jumping from one to another, getting our feet a little wet, at times. Those smaller tributaries could roar, also. One flowed along side of my grandparents' house. The other crossed the main road. I remember one time that first little nothing branch was high enough that Dad put a blanket over the hood and blasted through it. I was frightened!

In the spring of my 17th year, coming home from a date when all the streams were out of their banks, I convinced my boyfriend to just let me out of the car right before the third branch from the house. I knew I could go around it if I walked up the bank, found a barb-wire fence and followed it to my grandparents' house, thus avoiding the first two creeks. He didn't hesitate much that I recall! So, there I was, in total darkness, finding and holding onto a barbed fence, walking through tons of wet leaves. (I'm a brave girl)! I don't think I attempted the last footlog, and, therefore, spent the night at my grandparents' house. No way of communicating that to my parents without phones, but that's creek living.

One experience I'll never forget is one time when the footlog, which it sometimes did, washed away from the lower bank, and could not be crossed. My dad went some distance in a field further up the creek and felled a tree across the creek, so we could get to the school bus. The pool over which the log rested was clear and deep and COLD from the recent flood. I've always had ear problems and bad balance, vertigo, and a fear of falling. I did NOT want to cross that log with no cable to hold onto, but I DID want to go to school. I remember I had books and a little clear zipper purse with tangee lipstick in it. I remember falling into that COLD creek. I remember going onto my grandma's house, but I don't think I made it to school that day. By the way, the water was COLD.

Summers in the creek were something! Down the creek was a pool deep enough for swimming and playing. Summers were so hot, and the days were long. There wasn't air conditioning, surprise, surprise! I remember doing what many MO kids did, sitting under a shade tree drinking water from a pint or quart jar. But mostly, I remember the creek. Our clothesline was full of jean shorts and such all the time because my three brothers and I went to the swimmin' hole several times a day if we wanted.

The thing I remember most about swimmin' were the leaches and occasionally the snakes. I wasn't as big a fan as my brothers of the swimmin' hole because I didn't like either (snakes or leaches--and sometimes my three brothers). That's putting it mildly. First, we would splash to bring on the leaches. Then the brothers would catch them and pound them between rocks. These leaches were four or five inches long and fat with blood. They just didn't want to die. Later when I saw what they called leaches in Texas County, I couldn't believe those little short, brown mini-babies. I guess I was pretty over-careful because I don't remember ever getting one of those blood suckers on me.

The creek remains in my heart and soul, and I have memory pictures (in my mind) that I will hang onto forever. Once I sat on the banks and dreamed. Now I dream I'm sitting on the banks . . .

Jordan Daniel - Second Born - Loved-First Class

I couldn't bother blogging on the burning of our home before talking about the birth of my son Jordan Daniel Hall, so the house story will have to wait.

When we talked about having a second child, we didn't know he was more than ready to join our family. First month we tried, Bingo! My family doctor said, "Well, you may be Fertile Myrtle," now! So much like Jordan to get the show on the road. He's been one of the stars of our show ever since.

I have to say carrying Jordan brought me great joy, but he made me just as sick as Josh did, and I again took nausea meds daily througout my pregnancy. When Jordan was conceived, I was teaching a combination fifth-sixth grade, I believe, but down in the primary building where I had taught first grade for a number of years. Jordan was very kind to plan his arrival in June, so that I would have time off both before and after his birth. The next fall, I taught 7th grade and put a picture of Jordan on my classroom door with, "What's new? Jordan Daniel Hall."

It was a great year looking forward to this babe. Somewhere in the middle of that expectation, Phil bunged up a knee, twisting it climbing a telephone pole on his very good job with the phone company. He was promised a job but it might be an office job near St. Louis, and we couldn't handle that, so Phil was unemployed. That's another story because Phil found jobs to earn a living for his family. In February that year, Phil's son Steve arrived from California; he was an 8th grader. He did not want to be in Missouri, and much of Jordan's time in the womb was tumultous as there were lots of upsets, worries, and problems in our household. That's a story, but I don't want to go there.

Jordan was due June 24, 1981, and his name was to be Jeremy Phillip or Rachel Ann Hall. I felt that if we had another son, he should carry his dad's name just as did Joshua Phillip. Strange I am!

Jordan has always had a way of doing things his way, and he managed to do just that. He didn't come on June 24, but on June 25. I was cleaning out my bedroom closet (standing on a chair) while Phil and Steve were arguing over a wheelbarrow of rocks in the back yard, when Jordan made it known that he might just not wait 8 days past his due date to come like Josh did. In fact, he would come on time but just enough off to let us know who was in charge!!!

So, I had some regular pains, and Phil, with the roads clear, still had no intention of waiting around. Steve, 14, and Josh, 29 months, were taken to Grandma and Grandpa Hall's house. Phil and proceeded to go to Houston to the doctor's office to see just what this child was trying to say. Our great doctor wasn't sure at that point if I was in labor, so he suggested we go walk in the park. It was a HOT June day and humid, and I was pretty miserable walking in the park.
Before noon we were back in the doctor's office and were placed in a COOL back waiting room. We were there two or three hours, I think. The nurse checked me and said it would be about 10 or 12 hours. She, afterall, used to deliver babies in a doctor's office in Mountain Grove, and she had spoken, and I believed her.

I was very upset because my pains had become quite, quite severe, and I really couldn't tell where one ended and the next started. I just gritted my teeth and smiled at Phil after the pains when there was a dip in the wave of never-ending pain. Phil, bless his heart, was looking at a magazine and talking about skylights in them. I'm saying, "Phil, I can't stand this for 10 more hours." Phil always was my rescuer, and I always could depend on him not being shy like I was. He went into the hall on the hunt for Dr. Wall as soon as he heard him come back from lunch. He said, "Dr. Wall, I think you need to check her. Her pains are too close together."

The good doctor humored him and eventually came into the room. He brought with him a student nurse whom he had check me. She said, hesitantly, that maybe I was a "two." Dr. Wall followed up, got this commanding posture, said, "She's complete! Phil, where's your car?"

The nurse said, "Can you walk?" This was the same one who said it would be 10 or 12 hours.
I said, "Yes," but was surprised to find that there was a very low heavy weight, and walking was a little slow. We made it to our car, and Phil ZIPPED across town to the hospital. When we got there, a wheelchair was outside waiting for us. Dr. Wall wasn't far behind.

No time for prepping. No time for anything. To the labor room. Throw some orange antiseptic on, do a small episotomy, and this kid is born screaming--surprised? He had orange hair from the antiseptic, and he was crying before he was all the way out. Sorry for the details, but that's our Jordan.

I laughed and laughed. Literally. I could NOT believe he was born. I could not believe things were CLEAR this time. I could not believe any of it. The nurses admitting both of us to the hospital because they didn't have time before. They called Jordan the 19 minute wonder for we were there 19 quick minutes before he was born. Thank you, Jordan. I'm not saying I didn't have pain, but I appreciate you screaming your way out.

I remember coming down the hall with Phil, beside Jordan who was on a bed being wheeled where-ever, and Phil saying, "He looks just like Josh." There definitely was a resemblance at birth. Still is, but many differences in facial structure that people don't notice at first.

Also, again this should have been a clue that Jordan was going to be a self-thinker. Somehow his dad just LOOKED at him and knew that his name was NOT Jeremy Phillip. He looked like "Jordan" (a name we had discussed along with Phil's middle name Daniel).

We called Phil's parents and the boys. Phil's mom and Stephen wanted to call him Daniel Jordan, and I think Phil didn't really care that much which, but I said, "Jordan Daniel it is." I'm not at all sure Jordan didn't name himself. He has a way of figuring things out!

Another thing. I had gained only 22 pounds with Josh but quite a bit more with Jordan. And yet, he weighed less than Josh by quite a bit. My husband had to say, "You told me that weight was the baby, and then you kick out this 6 lb. 12 oz. baby!" He was MOSTLY joking.

Jordan was born on Thursday at 3:44 p.m. and came home on Sunday. Grandpa and Grandma and the boys, Steve and Josh, were waiting on our front porch to welcome this sweet little package. (To Be Continued)

Happiness Beyond Explanation

With the due date for my much wanted and longed for baby just past, the weather hit! Up the hill and over the road (through the field) to the to the old huntin' lodge we lived in became a feat some couldn't accomplish. My protective mate, who was gone long hours at work while I was at home on Christmas vacation from school, decided we should move to my parents' house until the baby came. We packed up the basinett and a few things and moved a few miles away to wait.

Little did we know, we would never return to our lodge home. We would never use cousin David's baby chest we covered with a fresh coat of white paint and decorated with decals. Our baby would not use the blankets, outfits, and other gifts generously given to us at a church shower and at school. We would never again sit under Phil's grandfather's table. More about that coming up in the next blog.

Sometime after midnight, beginning the new day of January 7, I awoke with regular pains. Phil and I watched a movie, and just before dawn, we were ready to head for the hospital in Houston, MO. Just one minor problem--the roads were covered with both ice and snow, it was STILL snowing hard and VERYcold, registering 18 below zero that night or the next, I can't remember which. Anyway, again my protective husband to the rescue!He decided we needed an escort to the hospital, a good 28 mile trip. He called "Brother Bill," or "Willy" as he fondly called his older brother to follow us. Always good in a pinch (or a baby's birth) Bill came to the rescue. Good idea . . . the snowplows hadn't run, visability was terrible. The only glitch, in the very slow trip, was when Phil decided he was nervous enough he had to stop and relieve his bladder. That worked out all right but must have gotten Brother Bill going -- either laughing or calling Phil names for stopping. We'll never know!

Arrived at the hospital. Long story short -- the doctor decided after several hours that I wouldn't be delivering that kid that day but kept me in the hospital. Too far home in bad weather to turn around and come back, so he said, and I'm grateful. Not long after that announcement, my water broke, and the hard labor began. Brother Bill made the treacherous trip back to Plato and picked up my sis-in-law Kay and my mom who both visited with me some, but I don't remember it well. Somewhere along the way, I was given demerol although I tried to go natural, and things became crazy hazy.

Actually, the labor lasted way too long with some collateral damage, but Joshua Phillip Hall was born at 7:55 p.m. and needed a moment to start breathing. His daddy said he was a little blue "around the edges"--fingers, toes, etc. But, I remember, Dr. Wall saying those famous words, "It's a boy!!" Before that I remember him saying, "Let's have that baby," and the forceps did their work and damage. :)

I will never forget Daddy saying, "Hi, you little bugger," and talking to his son so naturally. I never loved him more. I was elated, on some kind of natural endorphin, and didn't sleep the whole night. Phil spent the night in the waiting room and slept the night away. Nor did I see the baby all night either since we didn't breast feed as much back in those days, and the nurses took care of him.

The wing of the hospital was new and the heat in the nursery wasn't sufficient, so they put Josh in an "isolater" to keep him toasty. While we were in the hospital three nights, only two other babies were born, red-headed girls, both, so we knew we brought home the right babe.

On the fourth day, we came home from the hospital; the roads were still terrible. Friend and neighbor Dianne Ingalls came up with her studded tire car and held Josh in the front seat while Phil drove and I "lay" in the back. No sitting for me.

Joy! What joy to have a new baby!

On the second evening home, somewhere around supper time, Mom and Dad's neighbor, pounded on the door, saying, "Your house in on fire, and I think it's gone!"
To Be Continued.