The apple doesn't fall far.....

If it's true that our genes determine a lot about who we are and what we will become, then Rita knows a lot more about us than we might guess.

Her extensive research into our family tree, our ancestry, makes her the keeper of the kingdom.

When I visited with Rita and Don last week-end, I was astonished at the volumes of information she has amassed about all of us and our forbears. Did you know, for example, that a young woman married to a Glenn Simpkins died at her home at the age of just 33 after sustaining a blow to the head -- and that her death was ruled a homicide? Now Glenn seems the likely suspect to me, but Rita hasn't found court papers yet to verify that.

And her latest foray into the Falter family reveals that Grandpa Falter had a sister who was all of 29 years older than he was! We know also that the mild-mannered Shafer side of the family had a not-so-well-kept secret in that Pa Wilson, my great-grandfather and Grandma's grandfather, was born "illegitimate" and that his mother remarried but had several other children born out of wedlock.

Rita can also tell you that we appear to be a family with longevity on our side. With several exceptions, our relatives have lived long lives. And it will probably surprise none of you to know that we don't seem to be related to any famous people nor that we have had an abundance of men named James in the family.

Practically anything you ever wanted to know about our family is on Rita's "Simpkins Family of Ohio" ancestry site, including pictures of many of you, newspaper articles and public records. If you're curious about where you come from and what you might have inherited, give Rita a call. She's got the goods on all of us. Woudn't it be fun if we looked a little something like this?

missed me?

i have, of late, not been a very active member here, simply because i have not been around enough to be active. but here i am with, for the first time in weeks, a few spare moments. laurie, glad to hear that the baby is still safely inside you...he isn't allowed to come out for a little bit longer, okay? anywho, i'm here in ireland, taking globablization which i love, strangely enough, and enjoying life here as usual. my class is great and it is so nice to see all my friends as well as make so many new ones along the way. i have no roomate this year which means i am sleeping at night (which is terribly sad. we only have one week left, which means that i have been away for three and as lovely as getting away was, i'm kind of missing home for the first time ever. i think there is something to do with the fact that i like it there, i have friends there. lots of them and i enjoy living where i do now, whereas in the past there hasn't been much insentive to come back. (kevin isn't bad insentive, either.)
i have to go but i'm going to leave you with one image....me with about three inches of hair!!!!
love you all, cecilia

Ready...Set...Keep Waiting!

Since this will be my blogging debut (although there are several blogs that I visit on a daily basis), please forgive me if my performance is not up to par. I shall do my best!

With the due date of the newest member of our clan just over 2 weeks away, I have officially entered the pregnancy doldrums. I have been fortunate to have experienced a very easy pregnancy thus far, but I am now quite ready to be finished with my gravidity. Perhaps it is nature's plan to fill the last weeks with aches, awkwardness, and insomnia so that we will actually looked forward to the labor and delivery. I know that prior to the last few weeks, I felt apprehensive about this whole "giving birth" process, but now I just can't wait to get this baby out!

The good news is that our OB/GYN has confirmed that the baby is in proper position for take-off: head down and back facing out. The bad news? The little guy has not begun to drop, and (avert your eyes, squeamish readers) I have not begun dilating or effacing. So I was a little disappointed about that. Keep your fingers crossed for more action at next week's appointment.

Here's a question for you experienced moms. Did you notice any connection between your child's activity levels in utero and it's energy level later in life? Because I am starting to be concerned that this kid is going to be hyperactive with all of the action going on in there!

Hope...

Mr. Nicolas Nobis will be 1 year old on Aug. 1st, and then following shortly we have two more family members of the best type following right behind him! :) Thomas Falter and yet-to-be-named baby girl Kovaleski will both arrive in August, too! (I'm rooting for "Annie" because it seems like a Stephanie and a Sarah ought to have a little sister named Annie, and Ann is such a nice family name from Rita Ann, Debra Ann Libby is over course Elizabeth Ann, and our family could do a lot worse in girls' names than Ann which also go with Kovaleski! ;)

So yea for August! I gladly relinquish what I've always thought was MY special birthday month to these 3 Leos! Of course we've also got Grandpa/Uncle Don K a Leo, and our August Virgo, Don, Jr, and of course Mom/Grandma/Greatgrandma and Dad/Grandad/Greatgrandad were August Virgos. So let's here it for August bringing in and bringing up some badly needed fresh blood in this family!! :)

It's lonely at the top

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Not that kind of top.

Ajax Rock. It's kinda' lonely here.

There's plenty of room for you. Do you want to read? Play make-believe? Orate? Have a picnic? Talk or nap?

In the beginning, it was two sisters who hoped they weren't too big to fit on an old rock they used to play on. We wanted to remember our childhood, reflect on our family, and mourn the loss of our parents. Remember?

Sometimes it got kind of crowded, but we always scooched over to make room for more. There was always room for one more in our house, growing up. One more chair at the table or one more bed that could be made up on the couch.

Now Ajax Rock is more of a one-woman journal, not a family gathering hole. It's not so much fun, playing all alone. I've tried imaginary playmates, but since I always had Lois, I'm not too good at that.

Guess I'll let the summer dwindle down and see if anyone comes out to play before it's over. All these grown-ups must be too busy doing important things. Too bad. Maybe I'll make a lemonade stand. Wonder if anyone's thirsty out there?

An argument for youth over wisdom

Photos courtesy of flickr.com

The age-old struggle of youthful optimism and ancient wisdom is an interesting one, and it's being played out in our presidential politics, as well as in every walk of life.

Hopefully, we do gain wisdom as we age, though certainly we're not all so lucky. And there are plenty of kids who seem wise beyond their years from day one. Cecilia was one of those children. I remember getting the odd feeling that she was "in charge" when she was still crawling. She always seemed calmly responsible, and she got the joke, long before she could speak.

Am I really wiser than I once was -- or is it an illusion? It's certain that I'm more cynical, but that's not a good thing. Is it possible to grow in wisdom and not need to be right? Isn't a big part of wisdom knowing when to be still, when to listen and wait?

When I hear the voices of my children and grandchildren, nieces and nephews, it occurs to me that it's time to applaud the younger generation, to realize that they have more of a grip on what's going on than I do and to trust them to use their expensive educations and connected knowledge to lead us out of the no-man's land we've left for them. Maybe it's time to retreat to the sidelines and cheer them on, just like we did when they were kids playing weekly soccer games. What the heck did I know about soccer? They are our greatest natural resource, so they should have at it. I can't do cartwheels any longer, and I don't know many people who can.

It also feels like the time to hand over the nation's top leadership to someone who is not a baby boomer -- and who is neither a Bush nor a Clinton. We had our chance and failed to get it right.

That's a big part of the appeal of Barack Obama, for me and for a lot of his supporters. I don't dislike John McCain, but he is too well-seasoned for the job, too resistant to change, too likely to do the same-old-same-old. (And he is entirely too much at-home with war.)

I still want to sit on the sidelines and add my two cents' worth, but it's time to scoot off stage and bring on a whole new cast of characters. Same is true for Ajax Rock, by the way. We need new energy, new ideas, new perspectives, new voices.


Maybe the most important question of the day really is, "Got hope?"

Goin' to hell in a handbasket

Photo courtesy of www.flickr.com

What is it that's making so many of us pessimistic? It's not just the economy, stupid, although the economy pretty much stinks. Skyrocketing oil prices, corruption in financial markets and a tanked housing market. Food prices going up hour by hour. No, it's not a pretty picture. But a lot of us have been through that before, and we know how to be resourceful and do without, how to hunker down and make do when necessary. We're lucky that our momma and daddy taught us that by example.

And it's not just our politics, either -- our long, national nightmare of the Bush administration -- though it's been an agonizing seven-plus years of watching our nation's moral capital eroding, hearing about torture and suspension of civil rights and realizing with horror that it's not some third-world country they're talking about but our own good, old U.S. of A. After seeing our president on television last night, I actually had a stab of pity for the man. What would be good for him and for the country is for him to just go back down to his ranch in Crawford and start cutting the brush down there. Maybe it will be therapeutic for all of us and keep him from destroying anything else he meddles in. Just keep tidying up that ranch until your term is over.

And it's not just our conspicuous-consumption culture either, worrisome though that is. I mean, look around the world and pick out another country you want to flee to (except for Canada, of course, since we all want to go there or should want to go there, if we knew what was good for us). Until recently, I would have said Scotland, but the dollar is so weak that I couldn't even buy myself haggis for supper with what I've got.

Repressive regimes, genocide, illegal elections, war and famine and trigger-happy bomb lovers.

It's a bit too much, isn't it? Makes me want to bury my face in a good book, turn off the media, pull out a board game, pop some popcorn and ask someone to let me know when it's over.

Guess I'm officially an old fogey now that I've come right out and said it: We're going to hell in a handbasket.

How do I stop this train and get off?

Gettin' on in years

All photos courtesy of www.flickr.com

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about aging -- about how quickly time goes when you least expect it to fly, about how, when you're young, it seems as if the hands on the face of the clock are stuck, and the time between Christmases and summers is much too long.

When he was in his 80s, Dad told me his philosophy about how the years seem to pass: They way he reckoned it, each decade went by twice as fast as the one the preceded it, so that his 30s seemed to go by 40 times faster than his boyhood did. "Yikes!" I thought. "This can't be good. Better hurry up and get something done. Better not wait for the 'right' time to do what I want."



Of course, sometimes when you're inside that decade, time seems to slow to a crawl, and the days seem endless, but overall, I think Dad got it about right. What seems like yesterday to me can easily be ten, twenty-five or forty years ago. It all sort of blobs together in my mind, and I'm often startled to realize that I'm talking about the "olden days," not yesterday.

And another thing starts to happen: You're not relevant. The world prizes "new" over "wise," "fresh" over "experienced." So just when you start to really get it, to figure out some of the mysteries of life, someone has changed the subject, and you really aren't all that interested in the new topic. You really don't want that new iPhone thing, and you're not even a Luddite. It just seems so inane, so immaterial somehow. You've seen too many fads come and go. Too much waste. Not enough substance.

See, you've got your education, both in school and in life. You've been around the block a few times. You know what makes people tick. You see history repeating itself, and nobody seems to be paying attention. Your pearls of wisdom are ready to be dispensed, but the game has changed while you were going along, gathering up experiences and weighing their consequences, refining your outlook and storing up memories.

Then you realize that your time could be up any day now. You've gotten your AARP card. You get discounts just for being old. You are a grandma or, like George will soon be, a great-grandpa. I mean, Rita has been a great-grandma for years! How is that possible? She's my big sister, not somebody's great-grandma, for heaven't sake!

Then you remember Peck's formula for the passing of time, and you realize that he wasn't exaggerating one bit -- that once again, "Peck was right." And you hope it's not all been about the destination. You hope you've been enjoying the ride.

You change your mind about at what age a person is "old." You weigh the risks and benefits of aging and realize that just living longer is not the purpose of life. While old age completes the cycle and allows you to reap the fields and enjoy the harvest, there's a price to pay for that privilege, just like everything else. You lose people you love, you experience grief, irrelevance, aches and pains and fear of more loss.

You need to get your perspective back, learn not to care that others are playing a different game, spend your time doing what you enjoy -- and learn to give back a lot of what life gave you. You learn, I hope, that getting old is a special kind of privilege.


While it certainly isn't always a picnic, who ever promised that it would be? I'm in for the duration. I hope I don't waste whatever time I have left. I hope I give more, worry less, take my foot off the brake now and then and hold on to my philosophy that everyone's entitled to my opinion, whether they want it or not. I want to live like my daddy did -- and let go when the time comes.

What effrontery! What chutzpah!

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Move over, Beth, and give me a bite of that venison burger.

While I've pretty much given up on growing anything on my property except for yarrow, lavender, daffodils and a few other things deer don't eat, excusing them for their bad manners because they're being squeezed out of their native habitat, I've drawn the line: The flowers in my pots on the front porch are mine, okay? You guys have the entire two acres. I just want a few pots of flowers outside my door.

Yesterday I discovered that my New Guinea impatiens on my front porch in a pot on a small table near the front door, as well as my begonias potted in a larger pot on the top step had been chomped off, without so much as a by-your-leave, by the deer running rampant through our neighborhood.

Now I'm mad. I'm going to take human hair, mix it with soap chips and tie bags of it around my porch. Or why bother? The flowers are gone. Summer's half over. Deer herd: 2; Nanny: 0.

Yeah, chill out and let nature take its course. Open up a bottle of beer to go with that venison burger, and, hey, I'll take a slice of tomato and onion on mine. What? They ate the tomato, too? Okay, then, I give up.

Deer: 3; Nanny: 0.

Summer's bounty

Now that we're in the thick of it -- summer, I mean -- at the Triple H Ranch of hazy, hot and humid, it's necessary to look harder for summer's virtues. And here they are! If there were not one other thing to celebrate in these dog days, then the food, in all colors, shapes and sizes, that seems to erupt from the earth in all of its nutritious, tempting and delicious glory would be the reason for the season.



Ripe tomatoes with nary a trace of salmonella! Just-picked corn with tassels still damp! Melons as fragrant and heavy as the ones Dad got down at the Wabash River and brought by the truckload to Athens for us to sell one hot, summer week-end,

Fat, sweet blueberries! And here in orchard country, bushel baskets of just-picked, ready-to-eat peaches! Cobblers, pies, pancakes heaped with fresh fruit!

What is prettier than rainbow chard, tied in a bundle? And heaps and heaps of green beans, their ends breaking off with a satisfying "snap"! And squash in bright yellows, deep greens and creamy browns, waiting for the frying pan!

Yes, I'm singing an ode to produce, to food that has a name and a date of birth, to local farmers who still find a reason to plant and tend and harvest in that endless cycle that celebrates life, whether in a baby lamb or in a pod of okra. With most of the world starving, I know how lucky I am that today is Butler's Farm Market day. Butler's. Where I can drive right to the farm and park near the cows and see the bounty being brought in from the fields. For that, I'll suffer all the other indignities of summer,

Bethy, Bethy, quite contrary, how does your garden grow?

My camera-shy daughter actually allowed me to take this picture of her, as she surveyed the damage done to her shade garden by those so-called "rats on stilts." Because she labored so long over the creation of her garden and had flowers ready to bloom on her toad lillies and her mystery lily, in the blink of an eye, she went from a lover of deer into a savage huntress-in-waiting when she found the buds chomped off her lillies.

So we found spray for the plants, but it was too late for this year. Alas! I can see the "wait-until-I-taste-you-in-a-venison-burger" look in her eyes, even now.

The thing is, when Beth and Dave moved into their house, it was adorned with hideous plants in the front, including some sort of shrub that looked like a giant toaster or a VW bug under a car-cover, just outside her front door. She has grown a green thumb, attacked the ugly plants and created quite lovely gardens, a sun garden in the front (Note the wonderful, sputnik-like plant in the middle, called a euphorbia pinea, that has saucer-shaped leaves that sprout more saucer-shaped leaves, etc., culminating in tiny yellow flowers on long spikes in the spring -- a plant that was orphaned somewhere in her garden center and seems to have been left there just for her to find, since they claim they don't have any)--

--and her shade garden on the side, with the gorgeous blue hydrangeas and now-virgin lillies:











Watching the photo-op are the pack of which she is the undisputed leader. See Kirby Lee, Harvard Charles and Fiona Cuthbert peering out the front door. What a handsome group they are!


Here's to next summer and the blossoming of the lillies. And, by the way, how was that venison burger?

A small-town 4th of July

By mid-morning, our resident veteran had hung the flag to signify the 232nd birthday of our country. It was an overcast and humid day, with the unmistakable feel of rain in the air.

As I was ready to doze on the sofa, sure that the Shepherdstown 4th of July parade would be rained out, the sun peeked out. So we drove into town, easily found a place to park and walked over to German Street.

A few years ago, I could have done this without seeing anybody I knew, but today it seemed that we knew nearly everyone, so it was like a neighborhood street party. I took plenty of pictures, too.

This man, Phil Hill, is a retired attorney I met when I volunteered for the local CASA (Court-Appointed Special Advocates) several years ago. Dig the pants -- pants he's had since the Bicentennial. But, Phil, with a hot pink shirt? Well, even lawyers can celebrate the 4th, right?

Next, in the lineup for the parade, we came across the Boy Scouts, the pack sponsored by our church and led by Tom White, an Eagle Scout in a family of Eagle Scouts (all three men, father, son and grandson, are Eagle Scouts). That's Tom in the middle, in front of the Episcopal Church. And there, just behind the Boy Scouts, was my neighbor Diane, on Shepherd Grade Rd., just before Glen Road, riding one of her horses, with riders on the other two. Those self-same horses often clomp down Glen Road, dropping piles of manure as they trot along!























Now, these guys I don't know. But they were marching with a car carrying a surviving nurse from the WACs in WW II. And they wanted their 15 minutes of fame on Ajax Rock.

Then, we bumped into some of the Tom and Lolly Martin family. Lolly was finishing up in the garden, but George took her place in this photo with Tom (a new city council member who "stood" for office but refused to campaign. He won big-time.) Next to him is a guy named Bob Smith, another friend of Tom and Lolly. And Susie, Lolly's sister who is an artist and a sweetheart, is on the right. Except for her mother, Lolly is the most liberal, kind and intelligent person I know here. And she has the greenest thumb of anyone on the planet. Just ask Bethy who got a private tour of Lolly's "Secret Garden."
Now, in the parade itself, we had some classic cars, but I chose this one for the blog because it's a '57 or '58 Chevy (I think), and it reminded me of Don. K.'s old black and white Chevy, the one that made him one of the coolest guys in Athens County, back in the day.
We also had an old-time Appalachian string band playing from a trailer on the back of a local tree-service truck. And they were good!
I especially liked the mother-daughter entry, the little girl carrying a sign with an important message: "Vote. It's patriotic."















Then, we looked across the street to find our pastor, Dee-Ann, with the Dixon-Gross family. That's Dee-Ann's mother, originally from the Phillippines, on the left, with husband Dave Gross in the middle and son Miles on the right. In front are daughter Maya, Dee-Ann's dad, a retired Forest Service employee (who, with her mom, live in Washington state but are here visiting), cute-as-a-button Dee-Ann and son Jordan. This is a picture of America today, and I love it!



















Now, this woman is a hoot! She's an actress who was helping to promote the annual Contemporary American Theater Festival, which is in its sixth year in Shepherdstown. New plays are premiered at the festival, and it draws people from all over the U.S., many from New York. Several years ago, Joyce Carol Oates launched a new play here. My friend Linda Figueroa will be coming down from Penn. to see a play with me this month. This is from one of last season's sets, but ya' gotta' love the sunflower and cactus combo.
















Finally, Asbury United Methodist Church had a contingent of its congregation marching in the parade, and since I volunteered to organize our Martin Luther King, Jr. Choir Festival in February, I had the privilege of meeting the man below, one of the Mighty Men of God in Asbury's choir. And this big guy can sing to please the angels!! I half-expected him to belt out a good old "Praise the Lord" right then and there.











So there you have a blow-by-blow of our little parade. When you think of how many little towns all over the U.S. throw birthday parties like this, it really warms the cockles of your heart, doesn't it? Even a disheartened left-field person like me is a patriot. I just happen to think that being patriotic means fighting to see your country be the best that it can be. And sometimes, living here, I think how lucky I am to live in a town where everybody looks and seems just as "big" and important as everyone else.

Tomorrow night we will go across the Potomac to our neighboring town of Sharpsburg, Md., to see the fireworks at the Antietam battlefields. We'll have a good vantage point from the porch of the McNally family, where we'll eat a hotdog, drink a glass of lemonade, and offer a toast to better times ahead, not just for us but for every citizen in our country and for all of the legions of individuals who wish they were.

Happy Fourth of July, ya'll.

one last shebang.

the summer has settled into a usual pattern of seeing friends, trying (and not suceeding) to sleep, and swimming when i can. there has been the fruitless search for the 'perfect' bathing suit, keeping in mind that i do NOT have the perfect bathing suit body, and drinking my body's weight in water. Some days it is windy and cold but most are mild and sunny. Perfect for a tanktop and jeans. I see the girls, hang out with the boy, occasionally even enjoying a day with my family.
Soon i will be taking off for my great adventure. I will, on tuesday be getting on a bus at seven thirty in the morning to Boston and then off to New York where i will spend the night before getting on a plane with Mike for Dublin, Ireland. In the next few days there is so much i want to do, so many people i want to see. in previous years i have not had this problem, and yet, this year there are so many people that i'm going to miss terribly and so, my leaving will be bittersweet. I'm thrilled to go though. i am so excited to see them all soon.
Kate left monday and i already miss her but she is having a wonderful time and is taking off today for Peru from Maimi. Anyways, i have been having a lovely summer and thought that i would touch down at ajaxrock before i jet off on my little adventure. i thought i would share pictures just because i can and i have them and my friends are beautiful. We have had several get-togethers and have been astablished as the crew, plus or minus a person or two. so here they are (drumroll, please):

this would be me at Alyse's sixteenth birthday party. we had fun and danced in the rain. below me is Angela who is probably on my top five favorite people list.


we did a girl's night out last night (Wednesday) we went to the concert on the common and, of course, a BOY crashed the party. his name is Bubba and he seemed nice enough.

Aubre, the tall thin one.

we are the goofy trio. we have so much fun together. Me, Abi, and Angela.

I hate the word cute, but it really fits Abi, doesn't it. she is just so darn adorable.

above would be Alyse attacking the mail box on mainstreet plymouth for kicks. she is completely crazy. (are you noticing a trend with the names? Alyse, Abi, Amy, Angela, Aubre.)

this was taken after we had had an indepth conversation about finding apartments in New York and Kevin and Sarah and hair. I love this girl so very very much.
This is our group. (usually minus Bubba and plus Bobby)in order starting with me. Me, Abi, Alyse, Bubba, Aubre, Angela. and Amy was taking the picture.
this was after the concert and i actually like the picture.
we have had our fun. there has been TONS of it. and tomorrow it will just continue. to end this farely long post, bar far the longest in a while i will leave you a picture of kate and I on vacation in DC, and a request.
the request first, i would love to at least think that i would send postcards so if i can have addresses that would be fantastic. (i am NOT promising anything) and here is Kate and Me.


i'm off to schedule hair appointment, eat, clean, call kevin, maybe sleep, start the laundry for my trip, clean my room, clean myself, etc. bye to everyone if i don't talk to you and i will talk to you again in August!

How much fun can I stand?

If you don't hear from me, you'll know from this photo what to search under! I am determined to get these files in order! Living in two houses with mail going to 3 different addresses has resulted in chaos and I want to just throw it all out but I WILL prevail! I am my mother's daughter, and I WILL make order out of it! :)