Fay's Reflections on Minnie's Home In The Hollow

Fred and Cyntitha Phillips My mother-in-law is about to turn a hundred years old and in the nursing home now. We're fortunate enough to have her life's story told by her to me when she was in her early nineties. Her memory was keen. I taped Minnie as I questioned her so I had her story in her words and added details. I self published her story for her large extended family so everyone would be able to have a reference book when questioned by grandchildren and great grandchildren. Even I have to go to Minnie's book and look up details. That's what happened when I brought home a framed and matted poem titled The Home In The Hollow Minnie had cut from a magazine or newspaper years ago. I've studied the poem and wondered what special place it was that Minnie connected the poem with. Finally, after going through the book, I had a duh moment. I've been in this family fifty six years and have been to the home in the hollow that Minnie felt was so special. Those of us who have been in the family half a century have all felt the same way, because each time we went to the home in the hollow the couple that lived there made us feel at home. Minnie probably couldn't phrase how she felt about place, and the poem did it for her. Now I am thrilled to be the keeper of the poem. This couple, Fred and Cyntitha (pronounced Sin tith a) Phillips were Minnie's parents. Behind Fred and his beloved Tithe, down the hill from the house, is Dye Creek. This is the last farm they owned together and was called the Dye Place. The roads are winding red clay and before street signs everyone gave directions to travelers to go by whoever lived along the road at the time. Fred and Tithe lived on this place from 1948 until Fred died in 1981 and shortly there after Tithe moved to Thayer, Missouri. I imagine the family named Dye were the first to homestead that farm or at least lived there for so many years that no one living could remember the first owners. Therefore the creek was given their name and the Dye place name stuck from years of their living in that hollow. No need to change it to the name Phillips place. Others wouldn't know here the farm was by that name. Harold knew his way around the area well since he started life there. We went so often that even I could find my way around. We'd get to a country driveway that headed north and one that headed south. The north one went to Minnie's sister Ethel and her husband Frandell Risner. The south driveway went to the Dye Place. The road had cattle guards on it to keep the cattle that grazed on grass and tree sprouts from getting out. Made for easier driving when we didn't have to get out to open and shut the barb wire fence gates. In no time, we made a bend and there was the meandering Dye Creek in the hollow and on the hill was Fred and Cyntitha's house with an open porch in front and one in back. The yard was fenced with a picket fence and yard gate. We drove through Dye Creek past the spring house that the cold spring water rushed through. In side that shed was milk, cream and butter chilling. In days gone by, that was the refrigerator. Fred and Tithe met us at the yard gate with greetings and hugs. The days there were spent eating Tithe's good cooking and resting under in the shade of the trees. Come dusk we listened to the crickets, frogs and whippoorwills. The very birds the poet was referring to.

Home In The Hollow by Frank Dycus 1987 There's a home in the hollow with a bubbling stream. Where I can lay down and dream and dream; And I can go places I've never been. And I can be old or a young child again, A home in the hollow where peace lives on, Where life can stand still with the breaking of the dawn. There's a home in the hollow with tall, tall, trees, Where wee creatures live way high in the leaves; And each night they join on their porches to sing, With the frogs and crickets by the ponds and the spring; And all the nightbirds join in on the song, And the home in the hollow feels like it belongs. There is a home in the hollow where the morning sunrise is a great breathless wonder to the beholder's eyes; Where a child can grow happy, wiser, and strong. And family ties can go on and on; Where people can share in the joy they give, At home in the hollow where the good people live. I'd never heard of Frank Dycus so I looked him up. Here is his biography. He is best known an accomplished songwriter. b. Marion Franklin Dycus, 5 December 1939, Hardmoney, Kentucky, USA. Dycus initially had no thoughts of pursuing a career as a songwriter. At school he was reckoned to be studious and was writing poems to his mother when he was 14. He relocated to California in 1955 and soon afterwards, he enlisted in the US Air Force. He learned to play guitar and with his friend, singer Don Gonsalez, formed a duo called Don And Frank. They attempted to be soundalike Everly Brothers and found regular bookings over two or three States sometimes opening for touring stars such as Jim Reeves and Buck Owens and for a time they were regulars on KPEG Spokane. After discharge in 1962, Dycus spent a short time in Nashville but failed to find work and eventually settled in Wichita, where he worked for Boeing in the aircraft industry and also hosted a radio show on KATE. In 1967, he returned to Nashville and worked as a songwriter in Pete Drake’s music publishing company. In 1970, Dycus formed his own company, Empher Music, in partnership with Larry Kingston and Roger Fox. They achieved several minor hits including Wynn Stewart’s Top 50 with ‘Paint Me A Rainbow’. In 1972, they sold their company to Dolly Parton and Porter Wagoner and Dycus joined Parton’s Owpar Publishing. He also managed Parton and Wagoner’s Fireside Recording Studios. At Wagoner’s instigation, Dycus made some recordings of a skiffle nature as Lonesome Frank And The Kitchen Band, with Wagoner helping out with backing vocal on some tracks. In 1979, he worked in Sweden with Abba’s drummer and other local musicians before returning to the USA to record an album that gained Swedish release on Sonet Records. In 1981, George Strait gained his first two Billboard chart hits with Dycus’ songs namely ‘Unwound’ (number 6) and ‘Down And Out’ (number 16) and the following year Strait gained another number 6 hit with the Dycus song, ‘Marina Del Rey’. In 1987, Dycus, who had been in failing health for sometime, had heart bypass surgery and was inactive for more than two years. In 1990, after initially deciding to retire from the music business, he formed a new publishing company in Nashville and gained further success with George Jones’ recordings of ‘I Don’t Need Your Rocking Chair’ and ‘Walls Can Fall’, songs he co-wrote with Billy Yates.

The Cave AKA Our Root Cellar

Here is an old picture from 1959 on our farm at Schell City, Missouri taken when I was a child by me. Mom gave me free rein with our camera and now I'm glad she did. My father had taken my Uncle Bob Hammontree, Uncle Moe Bright and Cousin Marvin Hammontree squirrel hunting on a fall day. My mother and Aunt Short were in the kitchen fixing lunch for all of us which included me, brother John and cousins Don and Keith. In the picture is the top of our large chicken house showing over the root cellar. My parents had leghorn layers and sold many of their eggs to a hatchery. Dad checked the eggs by witching with a wire. If the wire waved back and forth, the egg held what would someday be a rooster and if the wire made a circle the egg would become a hen. I don't know how accurate he was, but the hatchery bought the eggs anyway. The hens that stole out a nest of eggs and hatched chicks were taken care of and in a few weeks those chicks became our fried chicken dinner when we had company. As usual when Dad took a break he filled his pipe. This is the picture I used in a story I wrote and sold to Good Old Days magazine about our root cellar (the mound of rocks behind Dad) which we called the cave because it was a dark, damp, cold cement cellar in the ground with snakes in it sometimes. It sit right behind the house. Mom stored her canning from our large garden and fruit trees, plus strawberries from our garden patch and blackberries from the pasture on the two shelves over the bins of potatoes. That was our food for all winter. When a storm was brewing, we'd remove the wooden egg box on an old bench at the back of the cave and sit down, bundled up in a quilt. The egg box stored the eggs from our large flock of hens until it was full. What we didn't eat, Mom used to trade for groceries. That's why she always called shopping going to do her trading. Besides eggs, she traded blackberries, strawberries and potatoes. Storms in the middle of the night in tornado alley always kept Dad jumpy. Fearing a tornado, he paced from window to window to watch the sky. Us kids would get woke up after the rain started to pour, the wind roared and lightning split the sky to make a run for the cellar until the storm stopped. Dad must have liked to watch the storms. He stood in the doorway. As soon as it was safe, we all went back to bed. Stories had it that once before we moved to that farm a tornado came alongside the house without doing much damage. Our dog, Ginger, had a liking for all babies. She had carried a litter of kittens up and laid them on the back steps. The mother cat wasn't too happy with her. Another time, she fought with a mother hen to catch a new hatch of baby chicks to take care of. She gingerly carried each chick in her mouth down into the cave to keep safe for herself. We came home from town and found the hen angry with feathers fluffed up, attacking the dog from behind all the way to the cellar. On investigation, we found out why. About half of the hen's baby chicks were in the cave. We had to give them back to the hen and shut her up somewhere until Ginger forgot about adopting the chicks. The cement steps to the cave were always cool in the summer. Mom was always sending one of us to the cave to get her a jar of something to cook. I always hated finding a large black snake laying on the steps. Usually, I'd put up a fuss until Mom or Dad came and moved the snake. One time I was getting a jar off the shelf and noticed a jar next to it had a baby snake curled up in it. I quickly backed out of the cave, leaving the jar Mom wanted sit. Dad went down to the cave and put a lid on the jar with the snake in it and carried the critter away so I could go back after the jar of food Mom wanted. She canned meat as well as garden produce and fruit because we didn't have a freezer in those days to keep the hog or cow Dad butchered by hanging the carcass on the limb of the large mulberry tree behind the cave. It was a lot of work to can quart jars of food on hot summer days on a wood-burning cookstove. Our wooden refrigerator, called an icebox, was on the back porch where it was cooler. It had a space that held a large block of ice which kept it cool to hold leftovers and lemonade and ice tea until the block melted. Under the ice space the melting ice dripped into a pan Mom had to empty often. Each time we went to Schell City to get groceries and gas in the car, Dad stopped at the ice house next to the gas station and bought a block of ice. This all took place for us in the forties and fifties in Vernon County, Missouri. My how times have changed now, but for me it is fun to look back on those carefree days when my parents worked so hard to make their family a home and I enjoyed the freedom of exploring over our  farm.

Ebooks On Sale For A Cause

Ebooks on sale for a cause. From today until April 20th, smashwords.com is having a sale of books by many of it's authors at 30%, and 60% off and for free. The reason is to make the ebooks afordable for so many people quarantined or willingly staying in their home. If you have a favorite author check to see if there are books by that author on smashwords. Or if you like bargains, check out the site to find a book to read. My ebooks are on sale for 30% off and I have listed them below so you can see what choices I have written. Nurse Hal Among The Amish Series A Promise Is A Promise Doubting Thomas The Rainbow’s End Amish Country Arson Hal’s Worldly Temptations Second Hand Goods As Her Name Is So Is Redbird Emma’s Gossamer Dreams The Courting Buggy Joyful Wisdom Bender Creek Bridge's Troubled Water Amazing Gracie Historical Mystery Series Neighbor Watchers Poor Defenseless Addie Specious Nephew Will O Wisp The Country Seat Killer The Chance Of A Sparrow Moser Mansion Ghosts Locked Rock, Iowa Hatchet Murders The Wayward Preacher Who Killed The Schoolmarm Westerns Stringbean Hooper Westerns Tread Lightly Sibby The Dark Wind Howls Over Mary The Blue Bonnet-novella - Small Feet’s Many Moon Journey A Coffin To Lie On-novella Ella Mayfield's Pawpaw Militia-Civil War Christmas books Christmas Traditions - An Amish Love Story Christmas With Hover Hill Leona’s Christmas Bucket List Fiction Listen To Me Honey – novella Cowboy Girl Annie -novella Jacob's Spirit - novella Robot Grandma – novella Katrina's Gift – novella Haunted Teapot On Whistler Street -novella Nonfiction about Alzheimer’s disease Open A Window - Caregiver Handbook Renee Brown Mystery Series The Answering Machine Knew - novella One Big Bat – novella Crystal's Beau-novella Innocent Until Proven Guilty-novella Mrs. Pestkey's Cat knew-novella

Signs of Spring Maybe

Signs of Spring Maybe Usually my first thought of spring comes with the robins. Might be too early for them to show up though. I suppose they're held up somewhere south by the Missouri snowstorms. However, I've been paying attention to other signs right here at home. Two weeks ago one evening after dark, I looked out the window and noted the Case tractor in the machine shed was glowing in the dark. It might have been the way the yard light on the barn shone on it. So I poked my head out the back door for another look. The west end of the machine shed was lit up all right, but no way was I going to tread through ice and snow in the dark to turn of a light when I knew I'd come face to face with a raccoon. The next morning when I turned off the light, one of the two wild hens who spent the winter in the machine shed was missing. That night the machine shed was lit up again. The next morning the other wild hen was gone, and both ends of the machine shed was lit up this time. I knew the reason was a wiley raccoon. He left tracks in the mud the size of a dog. He weighed almost as much as a dog, too. I'd say his eyesight and smell were failing him if he needed the lights on to catch the hens. Yesterday I noticed seven eagles in the cornfield across the road. They always show up in February, and each year the number of the flock increases. They spend a month or so in a small timber by us and go on to one of the rivers to nest and fish for food. The flock looked to be in a conference about how to get a chicken or one of my cats. They may have already had a rabbit dinner. The two rabbits I've seen scampering around here haven't been sighted for a few days. Not that it bothers me. The rabbits can eat their weight in garden plants and then some. Three days ago I let the chickens loose. They didn't care about the strong north wind, and that it was cold underfoot. Freedom felt good after being shut up since October. I've found they have good memories. Odd Man rooster headed for the barn, ready to go to his second home. I had the doors shut so he went on a sit down strike in front of the walk in door. He crowed for hens to join him. None did so he sat all day with a cold north wind ruffling his feathers as he stared wistfully at the door and crowded for me to open it up. At dusk, I shut the chicken house door and thought Odd Man went in. Next morning there he was just after sunrise, stubbornly doing his sit down strike again in front of the barn door. I don't what snow bank he hid behind, but he'd hid out. I was determined he wasn't going to be a raccoon's meal so I didn't open the barn door. That evening I didn't see Odd Man anywhere. Before I shut the chicken house door I peeked in. Odd Man was close to the door as if he might bale out if one of the roosters gave him a hard time. Two nights of being outside was enough. I felt as if we'd played a game of chicken for two days, and I won. Yesterday afternoon. was the goat revolt. I was about to leave home when I looked out the west window. All eleven head of goats were grazing by the garden. They had been shut in the barn for months. When Oliver Billy decides he has had enough of being closed in by four walls, he does something about it. This wasn't his first escape. He'd butted the roll door until he could squeeze though a crack, and every nanny followed him. I have wanted to let them go, but right now there is an ice berg in the gate hole, and the gate is open. The snow was supposed to blow on through and across the lot. That didn't happen. The goats came over the drift and were free, proving they always find an open gate hole. I picked up a two gallon pail I keep on the porch and walked outside where they could see me, calling, "Come on." The herd came running, but would only go over the icy mound if I went first so I walked them back to the barn and shut them in. I knew that wouldn't work for long so I improvised by using what I could find to close the gate hole. Note the picture and realize I'm not an experienced fence maker. Don't laugh until you had to get in a billy and his nannies.

Just as I was leaving for the third time to get the plywood, one of the nannies squeezed out the roll door again. She ran to me and followed me. I knew if I didn't hurry I'd have to get the other ten in again. Once I had the plywood in place, I opened the roll door and let the goats go. Even the freedom to roam where they live didn't satisfy Oliver Billy. He nosed my fence and butted the plywood to see if it would fall over. I popped him on the head with my pail. He got the message for the moment and backed up to follow the nannies to graze in the hay field.

What I found this morning was Oliver's message about my gate. He knocked the plywood down and went back to the barn to wait for to be fed. Just proves to me, I'm never going to win playing a game of chicken with him. Tomorrow is to be a warm spring day. Hopefully, the ice berg melts fast or softens up so I can shovel out enough of it to close the gate. If not, I'm going to be chasing goats daily and even in my dreams. If these are signs of spring, I'd rather go back to the tried and true signs like robins and morel mushrooms. The story I just posted about signs of spring is one of the many experiences that I've had taking care of animals. These real life experiences are what I use in my Nurse Hal Among The Amish series by Fay Risner. Nurse Hal has had many livestock related incidents that actually happened to me first. Want to read any of the Nurse Hal series and try to pick out what really happened to me first? Starting March 1st for a week my ebooks are going to be on sale for half price at smashwords.com.

Meet Curious Cat - continued

My cats are barn cats, very independent and usually appear for food, stand back until I feed them and then dig in. In no time, they disappear again. Curious Cat is different from the rest of the pack. My first sight of her last spring was when I headed for the chicken room in the loft. I reached the top of the stairs and saw the long haired, gray mother cat stretched out on the floor letting five kittens nurse. One a long haired gray like Mama, two black and whites, a dark gray and a long haired black kitten. I exclaimed to the alert mama that they were a pretty bunch. The sound of my voice sent the kittens racing to wedge themselves in a space behind two hay bales. All but one that is. One of the black and white kittens came toward me. I'm guessing they were two weeks old since they had lost the wobbly gait of newborns. I picked the kitten up and patted her, wondering why she was so friendly, and she began to purr. It's not usual to find a kitten that small that will take up with people. Usually, they hiss, spat and growl to keep people way from them. It occurred to me this kitten should be doing just that. She needed to be cautious if she was to make it to a adult cat. I took her to the spot I saw the others head and sat her down with them, hoping the hissing and spatting her siblings aimed at me taught the kitten what to do. A couple weeks later, the kittens were out of the loft and exploring the barn. Dangers were many in the barn such as wild animals after the cat food and stray tom cats. I spoke to the kittens. They scattered for cover all except the black and white kitten. She came to me. As I patted her, I heard a ruckus at the foot of the loft stairs. A grumpy, sitting hen came from the loft after some food and water. The long haired black kitten ran over her feet in his haste to hide. She mistook him for a rat and before I got to them the kitten was a goner. Lesson number one for the other four kittens. Grumpy sitting hens have the right to be irritable. They lay eggs for three weeks and spend three more weeks sitting on their eggs in a dark hiding place, only coming out for something to eat and drink. The next phase of the kittens lives I enjoyed watching. They spent hours tumbling over each other and batting at grass or a feather. Finally, the time came for the kittens to be taught how to hunt. Long haired Mama cat took the mirror image of her and headed to the machine shed to have him spend three weeks in training. She taught the kitten how to tight rope on the rafters to catch roosting sparrows and to sneak up on mice skittering on the dirt floor in the dark. She might not have been so selective, but he was the only one who seemed interested in learning. The dark gray and the black and white male didn't think they needed help. The friendly kitten preferred to hang out with me in the barn which wasn't teaching her how to be a cat. Finally, Sideways cat convinced the kitten to hunt with her. I didn't mind as long as they stuck to the hay field or the garden, but I worried about the kitten when I saw Sideways cat streak across the road without looking either way, down in the ditch and up the other side with the kitten behind her. They disappeared into the cornfield. I feared Sideways cat might get lost or lose the kitten. There was a reason I felt that way. She has a few loose screws from what happened three years ago. Sideways cat darted across the road and was struck by a vehicle. I didn't see it happen but know that must have been the cause of her infirmity. For a long time she was stiff and sore enough she rarely moved. I carried her food and water. When she could walk, the cat walked sideways. Her head went right and her backend listed to the left. I wanted to pass her many a time and was never sure which side to go around. Her peculiar gait finally got better, but her head cocks over to the side, and she twists her neck to look up at me. I shouldn't have worried. She took good care of the kitten, and soon the hunting lessons ended. One day while I made up the next morning's feed, the kitten showed me how much she'd learned from Sideways by batting at loose hay, smelling for mice and inspecting the corn sack. At that moment, I was hoping she didn't come up with a mouse. I've had experience with many of the fast, furry rodents jumping up to run away as I screamed and went the opposite direction. The kitten went back to following me while I d0 chores. She jumps up on the cat food container and rides with the lid over to the top of a lambing pen. As soon as I feed the cats, she rides back to the container and jumps down to gobble a few bites before she catches up to me to watch me feed the goats. She follows me upstairs and waits for me outside the chicken room. She has adopted me so I decided it was time to name her. I pondered how she stretches her neck out as she watches my every move closely. It's almost like she is job shadowing, but since she can't carry a bucket or hay bale I decided she must be just curious about what I do. So her name is Curious cat. Actually that name wasn't my first choice. Nosy cat came to mind, but I didn't stick with it. I was afraid I'd hurt her feelings.

Meet Curious Cat

Leona's Christmas Bucket List by Fay Risner

I have one more Christmas book to share. This one is on Amazon, kindle, Barnes and Noble and nook and smashwords. We’re always hearing the phrase bucket list, but I hadn’t thought about making one until I was in Walmart one day. The store had just changed the soap dispensers to hand activation in the bathroom. I was looking for a button or lever, not paying any attention to the lady next to me until I noticed her hands were soapy. I asked how she got the soap. She said just wave my hand under the dispenser. It worked. She laughed and told me I could erase that off my bucket list. She left and I found myself with bigger worries. I’m studying myself in the mirror wondering what made her think I needed a bucket list. Ideas began to turn into a story which was helped along by a newspaper article about a woman and her doll. The winter's pace poem waa a Christmas writing by nephew Shane Herman and I asked him if I could use it in my book. It fit perfectly.

synopsis When Leona Krebsbach found out just before Thanksgiving she didn't have long to live, she took charge of her life like she had always done since the doctor thought she might die in a month. She bought a small spiral notepad and titled it Christmas Bucket List. On each page of the notepad, Leona listed something she needed to get done while she still had time. Details like her funeral headed the list. She didn't want to leave anything for her daughters to have to worry about after she was gone. She kept her illness a secret until after Thanksgiving when she had all but one thing completed on her bucket list. Finally, she was as ready to die as she was ever going to get. She called her daughters and invited them to a tea party. Now was the time to tell them. At her age with a long life behind her, Leona Krebsbach wished she felt better prepared mentally for the end. She should have been ready to go, because she would be with her beloved Clarence. If only she had managed to atone for that one regretful time that happened so many years ago. If that didn't weigh on her, she knew her mind set would be different, but she couldn't change the past. Even if she wanted to, she didn't have enough time. She reasoned her bucket list wasn't designed to take care of that one regret unless a miracle happened to change Leona's Christmas Bucket List. RRA Winter's Pace By Shane D. Herman The summer air and springtime flowers have quickly been replaced By that time of year more cold and frigid A kind of arctic place The ice nips at your fingers and bites at your toes As falling snowflakes kiss at your face So light up the tree and hang all the stockings And drape all the holiday lace As Christmas approaches with unbridled cheer And the people shopping make haste It is when friends and family come together as one That makes this a season to embrace So from me and mine to you and yours And everyone else in the holiday race I invite you all to take in the moment As we all move at a Winter's Pace. Chapter 1 Goose feather size snowflakes glittered in the street lamp's golden glow, floating lazily like crystalline down. The ground outside the basement window of Limestone City, Minnesota's United Methodist Church turned white in a hurry. The scene made Leona Krebsbach imagine angels in Heaven with a wing shedding problem. Suddenly, the elderly woman felt light headed. She leaned her thin frame against the window sill for support and frowned. Please not now. The sinking feeling brought annoyance with it. Here in church of all places. Why couldn't this wait to happen until she was home? Why did she have to be bothered while she wanted to enjoy the winter view? Leona knew full well the weak spell made her face head on, that after years of watching similar scenes, this would be the last time she'd see a first snowfall. She wouldn't stand at this basement window ever again, gazing out at the dead grass between the church and the parsonage as the ground turned white. Out of all the snowfalls in a winter, she aways favored this first quiet, slow snowfall of the season. Quiet except for the banging of the lanyard against the flagpole in the post office yard across the street. Heavy nostalgia built as agonizingly as any pain might in her chest. At least, she hoped that was the cause of the unwanted pressure. With all the twinges she'd had lately, she couldn't be sure these days if she needed to brace herself for the end right away or not. So far the twinges had been false alarms. When the feeling passed, Leona sighed deeply and straightened back up. She took a deep breath and tried to bolster herself to face the fact she had to get ready for far worse moments yet to come. She had already decided she didn't have any intention of immediately taking to her sick bed and going quietly from this world. Not as long as she had the energy left to keep up her winter's pace. No telling how long she would have stood at the window, mesmerized by the gently falling snow, if Pastor Jim Lockwood hadn’t cleared his throat softly. Slowly, Leona turned to face him. The minister gave her a warm smile. He probably wondered why she hadn't left yet so he could lock the church basement exit door and go back home. The rest of the bible study group had cleared out some time ago. Leona admired the dark haired, dark eyed young minister. He was just like the son she'd wanted to give her husband, Clarence, and couldn't. She wished Jim Lockwood could grow old as pastor of this church while her grandchildren needed guidance, but she knew that didn’t usually happen. After a few years, ministers always got the call to go far away to another church. They moved out of the lives of the parishioners that had grown fond of them, leaving the congregation to have to get used to another minister. At her age, Leona knew she was a fine one to talk about getting used to changes. She figured out a long time ago she shouldn't mind changes in everyone else's life if the changes were for the better. In fact, she always looked forward with excitement to the new changes she made in her own life over the years. Like the time when she went back to school at the community college to learn to use a computer so she'd be able to carry a conversation with her grandchildren. She had to learn about the digital age after her grandchildren said her typewriter was as extinct as dinosaurs. These days when she made herself think about the changes ahead of her she wished time could stand still. She knew that was an impossible thing to ask the Lord to do for her, but she still wished just for a short time she didn’t have to face the inevitable. Putting off telling everyone that needed to know wasn't going to make a difference. She was pretty sure if she kept her illness a secret that wouldn't stop her death from happening. That would be a cruel thing to do to her family. She had to suck in how she felt and get up the courage to tell everyone that mattered in her life her days on earth were numbered. The twinges she'd felt lately were just a warning signal to prepare her. Her disclosure better be soon. At her age with a long life behind her, she admonished herself that she should feel better prepared for the end than she did. If only she had managed to atone for that one time she regretted so many years ago. If not for that moment in time, she knew her mind set would be different, but she couldn't change the past no matter how much she would like to do it. No bucket list was designed to take care of a tall order like that one, especially on such short notice like the one she'd been given. Leona gave the minister a wan smile. “You been standing there long?” “Didn’t want to sneak up on you and startle you while you were deep in thought,” he said as he crossed the room to look out the window with her. “You looked very pensive. Are you thinking about anything in particular?” “Several things. Life for one,” Leona said. “I was thinking how the seasons are like my life. I remember with fondness the spring time of my youth with loving parents and siblings. In the summer of my life, I married a wonderful man and raised two great daughters. Sharing the years of fall with a loving husband, that left me too soon, gave me many memories to keep me warm in the winter of my life. I've lived a long time and have been truly blessed thanks to God.” Pastor Jim put a hand on Leona's back as he stared at the snow. “You always manage to have a parable or story to fit the moment. Beautiful outside, isn’t it? God designed nature to paint everything white in time for the holidays. If only the snow covered landscape could stay pristine all winter instead of turning a dirty brown.” Leona chuckled. “I know exactly what you mean, but no way can we criticize the dust that blows in from the fields. That dirty farm land is what makes the income for farmers and businesses around here. Not unless you’re willing to make due with smaller collection plates.” “Smaller collections are a given this time of year anyway. Especially with the way the economy is now. The whole community has had to learn to make do, but we must keep praying that times will get better soon.” Pastor Jim gave Leona a sincere look. “I'm sure you know how to make do better than my generation. You had experiences in your life with tougher times then the rest of us will ever know. Times when you had to make do.” Leona sighed. “I expect that’s right. Make do and do without sometimes, too. That's something younger people today have no idea how it was. If the same thing happened to them, I fear they wouldn't know how to cope with the struggle. During the depression in the thirties, I saved everything, even broken items just in case I had a use for them or needed parts off the junk for later on. Clarence and I were savers just like the Krebsbachs before him and my family before me, the Palmers. My daughters would tell you I still save too many useless things even now when I shouldn't worry about finances. That's why my house has so many cluttered closets, and the outbuildings still hold things that Clarence couldn't bear to throw away. When I was first married, Clarence and I didn’t have money to buy writing paper so I could keep in touch with my parents. They were just two counties over, but we didn't have time to go see them as much as I would have liked. Sometimes, it was a matter of not having enough money in the budget to buy gas for the car. I wrote my mother as often as I could. I made do by tearing pages out of old Sears and Roebuck catalogs. I’d write my letters on the margin. Even then, I still had to sell enough eggs to pay for the envelopes and stamps.” “I’m sure your parents were happy to hear how Clarence and you were getting along no matter what your message was written on,” Pastor Jim assured her. “In those days, faith in the Lord, a good husband, loving family and friends put our struggles into perspective. I always felt rich in ways that counted. That rosy outlook is what kept Clarence and me going and looking forward hopefully to a promising future. That outlook paid off as you can see,” Leona told him. “Well put. I'm working on a Thanksgiving sermon to emphasize that very thing, wise lady. We should all learn to count our blessings just like you had to do in hard times, and I'm sure you still do now. When days are difficult, we have to learn to look forward to better days. Once a lesson is learned, we don't soon forget it, do we? My parents saved many things just like you did. No one knows how to save these days, and we do need to learn to recycle more than we do. I hear all the time that this nation is a country of wasteful people.” “Clarence always said you can look in the review mirror and lament the past. Or, learn from hardships faced by others, meaning our parents, and do a better job in your life time,” Leona said sagely. Pastor Jim nodded agreement. “A wise man, your Clarence. If you don’t mind, I'd like to quote you.” “I don't mind.” “Have a good attendance at bible study today?” He asked. “Yes.” Leona fiddled with the straps on her black purse. Assuming she was nervous about the drive home, Pastor Jim cautioned, “Drive carefully going back to the farm. Doesn’t take long for a wet snow like this one to make the roads slick. With night coming on, black ice is hard to see when it forms on the salt brined pavements.” Leona glanced out the window. The snow hadn't let up. If anything the flakes were coming down faster. “I’m a safe driver. I've had long years of winter driving practice to prove it.” She clutched her purse to her waist and turned to face the minister. “Pastor, I’m not ready to leave yet. I've been waiting for you to show up, because I have something I need to talk to you about.” “You sound serious. Now we must be going to get to the real reason you were so pensive when I came in. Let’s sit down.” Pastor Jim took her elbow and led her over to the black folding chairs lined up around one of the long white tables. He pulled out two chairs and held onto one until Leona eased into it. Leona plopped her purse and bible onto the table. As Pastor Jim sat down, she shifted the chair to face him. She had to look him in the eyes so she could use his strength to get her words out. “I need to tell you this will be my last time leading bible studies.” “What? Th -- this is so sudden. I hate to hear you want to stop. What will we do without you?” He blurted out, flustered. “Don’t worry.” Leona patted his hand reassuringly. “I’m not leaving you in the lurch. I took the liberty of asking Becky Smallwood to take my place. I thought I would make my leaving easier on you if I help you find someone else.” “Thank you for thinking about me. Becky’s okay, but just the same no one can take your place. You've been the best teacher for the job for so many years,” Pastor Jim said adamantly. “Besides, I’ll miss talking to you on Wednesday nights.” “I appreciate that. I know I’ve been as predictable as this snow, showing up here for years. Don't worry. Becky will be a fine teacher. She is very knowledgeable about the bible and a fast learner.” Leona licked her lips, mustering up the courage to continue. “Things have to change from time to time. That’s just the way life is. Sometimes, we aren’t given a choice so we have to make the best of it.” “Did someone say you can’t lead bible study anymore? Tell me who it is. I’ll have a talk with that person right away. I don't want you to stop teaching,” demanded Pastor Jim. “Actually, I was talking about you in regard to your accepting this change. You're right though. Someone did let me know I had to stop teaching bible study classes.” Leona paused, giving the minister an amused look. “I wager you talk to that someone every day, Pastor. Just the same, no amount of your pleading or praying will change the fact that I have to quit. What I need to tell you now is the hardest part, the reason why I'm quitting.” Looking into her sad, brown eyes, Pastor Jim's brow furled. “I’m not going to like this, am I?” “Probably not. Don't feel bad though. I’ve had trouble facing this myself so I know how you will feel when you hear my news. It's time to start talking about this problem out loud so I picked you to be the first. I want to practice on you. I hope you don't mind. I need to face this dilemma I have head on, but it has been hard taking the first steps. So in order to help me stay motivated, I've made a bucket list.” “A bucket list,” Pastor Jim echoed. “Yes, I have many details I have to take care of right away. Actually, I don't have much time to do get them done you see. One of the first details on the list is now taken care of, finding my replacement for bible studies.” “Making a list to remind you to get things done for the holidays is fine, but calling this list a bucket list might be a poor choice of words,” Pastor Jim reproached. Leona gave him a doleful look. “No, I used the right words.” “What’s wrong?” Pastor Jim croaked. “I’m going to die soon. I have liver cancer,” Leone said bluntly. The young man combed his hand through his hair and fixated on the floor. “I've felt something was wrong for a while now. You’ve lost weight, and your complexion is pale. I hated to bring it up. Knowing how efficient you are, I prayed you were on top of the situation and going to the doctor.” “Your prayers must have worked. I did get checked out. The doctor said there wasn't anything that could be done for me. You see I didn’t have much warning. Apparently, I'd had the cancer for some time and didn't know it. The doctor said I have only a short time left to live.” Leona rifled through her purse and brought out a small spiral notepad with Christmas decorations scrawled over the cover. “So just to show you I'm not joking, this is my bucket list, and I have to get the list completed as quickly as I can. Actually, I'm calling this a Christmas Bucket List, because that might be my deadline,” she said with dry humor. Pastor Jim combed his shaky fingers through his dark hair again. “I want to do anything I can to help you. Is there some of that list I can take care of to help you complete it?” Leona flipped through the notepad pages. “On page two of my bucket list is get details out of the way for my funeral to take the burden of details off my two daughters. Of course, I want to ask you if you will conduct the funeral service here.” The minister took her hand. “That’s a given, dear friend.” “Good. Now for scriptures, since I've lived in the country my whole life I've always been partial to the twenty-third psalm. You can pick the rest of the scriptures you want to fit into the service. The two songs I want the choir to sing are Amazing Grace and How Great Thou Art. If my girls have a hymn they like, they can add their favorites to make them feel better if they want to do that.” “All right. Done,” Pastor Jim said briskly as if they were planning details for a soup supper. While she read the items aloud, Leona was busy checking off the details in her notepad. “I was going to ask Becky Smallwood to sing a solo, but I didn’t have the heart to heap bible study duties on her and burden her with my demise and performing at my funeral all at the same time. So maybe she could lead the choir.” “What did you have in mind for her to sing just in case?” “Becky nails any song she sings. How about The Wind Beneath My Wings?” Leona asked. “I think everyone likes that one.” “That would be a super choice and fitting for you. Please allow me to work on these details in this bucket list of yours,” Pastor Jim insisted. “All right. I still have to contact the pallbearers I decided on to make sure they are prepared when Arlene calls them. I’ve already been to the funeral home, made arrangements there for the visitation and settled the bill. The casket I picked out is very pretty. It's dark pink with roses on both sides the handles.” Leona stopped to catch her breath. “You have been very thorough, I see. Not that I'm surprised. This is just the way you tackle everything you have always set out to do. Head on,” Pastor Jim said softly. “Yes, I’ve managed my life the way I wanted until now. I don’t see any reason to leave the details of my funeral for my family to have to do,” Leona assured him. “Besides, there’s some comfort in knowing how my life will end, and what will happen at my funeral.” “Not many people have your courage to face the end, planning like this, dear lady,” Pastor Jim said admiringly. “Well, it took some doing to get to this point. I’ve reasoned with myself about dying. You see, I've done my best to live a decent life. At least for the most part, I think my family will be proud of the way I lived. I think I know where I’m headed, and that's a comfort,” Leona said, pointing a finger toward the ceiling. “Carrying out my final details for my daughters so they won't have to gives me peace of mind.” “I can vouch for the honorable way you have lived your life. I'm as sure as you are that you will go to Heaven. I've always admired your self control that allows you to take charge of any task. Even at such a difficult time in your life as this one. You have the presence of mind to make your final plans by yourself, and do whatever else needs to be done. You always handle adversity head on, because you're a very strong woman,” Pastor Jim complimented. She cocked her head to the side. “I think the modern term the grandchildren and my daughters use for me is control freak. I've always put myself in charge, and I figure on doing that until the end so I know everything is done right to my satisfaction and goes smoothly.” “When it concerns the end of your life, no matter what anyone would say I will stand with you on this. I think you’re entitled to run the show the way you want it,” he joked with a weak smile. “Thank you,” Leona said as she reached over and patted his arm. “Somehow I just knew you would be on my side.” Pastor Jim looked worried. “Always, dear lady. This is upsetting to me to say the least. How is your family taking the news?” With averted eyes, Leona said, “They don't know yet.” “What! Your daughters need to be told. You should do that soon, before they hear the news from someone else,” Pastor Jim cautioned. “I will. So far the people that know, I told to keep this to themselves until I've had time to tell my family. I'm dreading that so much, but I plan to tell them right after Thanksgiving is over. Arlene will want to smother me with kindness or boss me around. Diane will be a basket case that we'll all have to take care of. So why spoil the last holiday we'll have together for the rest of the family,” Leona explained. Pastor Jim nodded. “I understand that, but you've been their rock for all these years. This will seem like a sudden blow to your daughters and hard for the whole family to absorb for a while. I guess you will not be able to come to church soon. Where will I find you for visits? The farm?” “No, my health will decline fast. I’ll need medical care very soon, and I don't want to burden my daughters and their families. Right after Thanksgiving, I’m moving into The Willows, a hospice house on the outskirts of town. Come there to see me whenever you have time.” Pastor Jim took a deep breath before he spoke. “Can I borrow your bible? I didn’t realize there would be a need to bring mine with me from the parsonage just to lock the church door.” Leona handed her worn thin bible to him. “Let’s pray,” he said, already bowing his head. She glanced out the window. The wind moaned a wailing cry as it whipped around the building, churning the snow into a furious haze. She needed to head for home right away. All she left home with was her handbag, and a prayer that this winter day would go well. She wasn't sure that would be enough to guarantee her a safe return home the way the storm had intensified. Other winters, she had always put an emergency supply kit in the car, but she hadn't gone to the bother this time. “I appreciate the prayer, but you know you don’t have to pray for me right this minute. I’ve accepted what is coming, and I certainly do expect you to be by my side to bolster me later on when I weaken,” Leona insisted. Gripping her bible in his hands, Pastor Jim said, “And I will be very glad to be there anytime you need me, dear lady. Just bear with me this once. I'm not only praying for you. I have to pray for strength for me so that I will be able to help you. I'm not going to be able to take your news too well until I get used to it,” he said, his eyes a misty blur. Leona laid a frail, blue veined hand on the pastor’s strong one. She said with a touch of humor, “Can you make it a short one, Pastor? I need to head for home soon. Like you said the roads will be slick. You see I can’t die in a car wreck today. I haven’t finished all the arrangements for my funeral yet, and I still have to complete the rest of my bucket list.” A few minutes later, Leona turned off the tree lined street and drove down Main Street. She noticed the last minute shopper hustle that always went on the day before Thanksgiving. Almost every parking place had a vehicle in it. That wouldn't change now until after Christmas shopping was over. Loretta Abbas hustled along the sidewalk, her arms loaded with bags. She stopped by her car and looked up as Leona drove by. Loretta fumbled with her car door, got it opened, set the bags on the back seat and managed to wave at Leona all in a heartbeat. Loretta was probably in a hurry to get home before dark, too. Seeing the woman was a reminder that Leona needed to call her. She wanted Loretta to head up a coat and clothes drive from one year to the next for the Indian Settlement. If Loretta turned her down, maybe the woman would be kind enough to find someone that did have time to volunteer. Suddenly, Leona felt maudlin about not being able enjoy the Christmas holiday. She had always looked forward to Arlene and Diane's yearly visit right after Thanksgiving. They spent a day with her, putting up the tree and decorating the house just like they did when they were children. Leona relished buying just the right gift for each member of the family and baking Christmas cut out cookies with the grandchildren. She made a large amount of fudge and divinity so the girls could take a box home. After a few failed attempts over the years, Arlene and Diane gave up trying to make candy. They told her they would rather enjoy the candy she made. The effort Leona put forth to make the holiday special for her girls and their families when they came home had always been a labor of love. After this, the girls and their families would have to make due with special memories from this Thanksgiving. She wouldn't be doing anything about Christmas except taking care of her bucket list if it wasn't done by then. Suddenly, Leona realized she was coming up to the grocery store parking lot. If she was going to make pumpkin pies, she needed more milk and eggs. Leona stepped on the brakes and fishtailed. She negotiated the turn into the parking lot and realized the lot was full of cars. Near the entry door, Leona spotted an empty handicap parking spot. She shouldn't park there. She wasn't legally able to, but she considered this an exception. She had to be careful. Falling on the slick concrete and breaking a hip wouldn't enhance her Thanksgiving plans. Luckily, Leona found one shopping cart left in the corral. She grabbed it and took off for the milk and egg section. By staying in the middle of the aisles, she dodged past the other shoppers, lingering along the sides. There weren't too many jugs of milk left. Leona put one in her cart. She thought better of that and picked up another. Her grandchildren drank milk. She was reaching for an egg carton when someone tapped her shoulder. Leona turned and found her son-in-law, Steve, grinning at her. “Fancy meeting you here, Leona.” “I guess. Looks like most of the town is in here right now. I was lucky to find one shopping cart not in use.” Steve nodded agreement. “Me, too. So about ready for the big day tomorrow?” “You bet and looking forward to every minute of it,” Leona assured him. “I thought you might be.” Steve turned serious. “Leona, how you feeling these days?” Leona questioned sharply, “Where did that come from?” “My secretary said she saw you coming out of Dr. Crane's office last week.” Steve shrugged. “Arlene hasn't mention you not feeling well so I thought I should ask.” Leona fumbled around with the egg carton, trying to find just the right place for it in the cart. “Leona, are you stalling?” “I might be,” Leona said stiffly. Steve came along side her cart so he could see her face. “There is something wrong, isn't there?” “Steve, you're a dear to worry about me. I plan on talking to Arlene and Diane right after Thanksgiving about my doctor visit. Can you keep what your gossiping secretary saw to yourself until then?” Steve grinned. “Sure.” “Promise me. I know how hard it is to keep from telling Arlene something like this, but this is important to me,” Leona implored. “All right, I promise, but only until after Thanksgiving. I might break my promise if Arlene doesn't get an explanation from you soon,” Steve said earnestly. “Now aren't you the hard taskmaster,” Leona teased. Steve shrugged. “I'm just concerned about you. Is there anything I can do for you until you talk to Arlene?” “Just enjoy tomorrow with me,” Leona said, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I'll handle the rest in my own good time.” “Fine, but like I said make it soon. You're right. I don't like keeping secrets from Arlene. You know, driving isn't great tonight. Out in the country it has to be hard to see where you're going. You want me to take you home? We could leave your car in the parking lot, and Jason could drive it out tomorrow as we come,” Steve suggested. “Certainly not. If it's hard driving now, then you would have to come back to town by yourself. It will probably be even worse after dark. I don't want to have to worry about you making it home. I'll be careful. This isn't my first experience at driving on slick roads you know,” Leona chided. “Now I best get to the checkout lines. Might be a long wait for my turn. See you in the morning.”