Joy Neal Kidney's Blog, page 91
February 7, 2020
Little Doris Helps Clabe With the Horses
Dad drives the horses in from the field,
to the water tank, where they guzzle.
Smarter than tractors,
they head to the barn on their own.
I follow Dad to the barn.
He unstraps harnesses,
a slapping leather sound,
takes the metal bits from muzzles,
the big creatures snort.
Dad adds halters, flings flynets over,
strings with knots tied at ends.
Aroma of dust, leather,
and horse sweat.
Dad gives me a three-pound coffee can
to measure corn for the manger down the center,
room for six to eight horses,
teams double-stalled together.
I add so many double handfuls of oats
from the bushel basket while Dad
pitches hay down from the mow,
then into the manger.
Munching is comforting,
I feel safe with my dad,
helping him with the horses.
After they eat, Dad lets them out
in the pasture, where they lie down,
feet flailing, rolling to scratch their backs
February 5, 2020
“Three Little Things” by Patti Stockdale
This dear historical novel has been released just this week!
The Book
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One forbidden love. Two broken hearts. Three little things.
Hattie Waltz should forget the troubled neighbor leaving for boot camp in 1917. He forgot about her ages ago. It had always been the Waltzs verses the Kregers, his family pitted against hers. When she hands him a farewell gift, a chemistry lesson unfolds. The good kind.
Arno Kreger can’t leave Iowa or his old man fast enough. He’s eager to prove his worth on the battlefield and stop blaming himself for his brother’s death. Before entering the train, he bumps into Hattie. He’s loved her forever, always from the sidelines, because nobody crosses Hattie’s pa.
One innocent letter soon morphs into many. Arno and Hattie share three little secrets in each letter and grow closer together. But he’s on his way to a war across the ocean, and she’s still in her father’s house. Their newfound love will need to survive dangers on both fronts.
The Author
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Patti Stockdale loves hope, history, and a good happily ever after. She can’t remember numbers, so she married a statistician. Thanks to him, she’s lived all sorts of places and worked all sorts of jobs. While employed by an NFL team, she once answered the phone by the wrong team name. She doesn’t work there anymore.
For 11 years, she directed the programming at a nonprofit senior center and hosted an annual talent show, rocking a Dolly Parton wig, Annie Oakley boots, and a sweet–although snug–Batman costume. She no longer works there either.
These days, Patti writes books and occasionally educational assessments and magazine articles. Please visit her at http://www.pattistockdale.com.
My Thoughts
“Three Little Things” is a delightful story set during World War I. It’s filled with a fetching cast of characters and borne along by the author’s entertaining sense of humor. The narration reminds us that many folks were suspicious of people with German ancestry during the war, even though they were American citizens and even using the common term “gesundheit,” and that children of German immigrants were drafted to fight against their parents’ former countrymen.
Young Iowa men were trained into soldiering, where there were still rivalries–some about girls back home, some about German sympathies–and sent across to fight the Kaiser’s troops in France. Some didn’t return home, some came back with broken bodies. There is a compelling scene with wounded veterans in a local hospital, at least one scarred on the inside and fighting his own private battle.
This winsome story also carries themes of acceptance, forgiveness, strangers becoming friends, reframing troubles from the past, and reveals a nickname for someone named Shamrock. An engaging story on many levels. Highly recommended.
February 3, 2020
Reverse Shoulder Replacement – Say What?
Already bionic, now even more so.
[image error]That top tendon tore away from the bone and is slipped back to where it can’t be mended.
That top tendon was probably tearing over several years. A cortisone shot in November didn’t faze the pain. Even when I’d shake hands with someone, shocks ran through my arm. Much of the time I could find no relief from that awful ache, except when unconscious. Wore shawls and capes–no sleeves to struggle into.
Amazing things they can do these days. This orthopedic center’s motto: Helping You Get Back to Living.
I like that.
I told them I’m only 75, just published my first book, have two more to go, and am not ready to give up. . . .
*Fearfully and wonderfully made, but sometimes there are breakdowns. They called it a “farmer shoulder” but I haven’t tossed any bales of hay for decades.
Blog posts (Monday, Wednesday, Friday–as usual) are already scheduled through February (Danny Wilson was MIA in Europe 75 years ago this month so will commemorate that). My right hand and fingers will swell so I may not be doing much interaction with feedback (my favorite part).
You may find me uncommonly wordless for several days. . . .
*Psalm 139:14
January 31, 2020
She Burst into Tears at the Doctor’s Office
Last week I experienced an emotional interior life as I read Joy Neal Kidney’s nonfiction book Leora’s Letters: The Story of Love and Loss for an Iowa Family During World War II.
I first met Joy through her blog attached to her website: JOYNEALKIDNEY.COM
Gradually, I realized that her family story was quite remarkable, and that Joy had put it into book form. Since Joy is a joy to communicate with on her blog and mine (articulate and kind), I decided to read her book, which was written in conjunction with Robin Grunder, although WWII is not really “my area.”
Before I started the book, I already knew the gut punch of the book; it’s not a secret that one finds out only by reading. The horrifying reality is shared right on Joy’s website. Joy’s mother Doris had five brothers. All five young men entered the war on behalf of the United States. Only two brothers came home at the end.
Although it might seem counter to know this fact up front, it actually heightened the suspense because I was reading carefully for the details of their lives as the war began and then continued, luring one by one of the brothers into the war. I wasn’t sure who would survive and who wouldn’t—or what would happen to them before they died and how they would die. What a page turner!
I was captivated by the life of these Iowa farmers from the beginning. Hard working and smart, they also were satisfied with so little—simple, healthy food; satisfying work to perform; family togetherness; and aspirations for the future. I fell in love with each one of these brothers as they shared their hearts and lives through letters to family members, especially their mother Leora. They were not small-minded or selfish, but operated out of honor and a humble pride.
During the last section of the book, I was reading in the doctor’s waiting room because I couldn’t put the book down except when I absolutely had to. I read something so really small, but so powerful, that I burst into tears right there in front of the other patients. That’s a warning to you if you read the book in public.
This book is not a novel. It doesn’t have the frills of one. Joy curated the letters and wove the story around the letters in a very graceful way. I was so impressed with the powerful and understated writing skills that went into crafting the book. The editing job was also well done. Now I have much more feel for what my father-in-law went through in WWII. And for that entire generation.
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My father-in-law Murray Scheshko (later known as Castle) was part of the 353rd Fighter Group that flew bombing missions over occupied Europe. They are considered heroes in England. Murray was not a pilot. He was staff sergeant, an “armourer,” which means that he was in charge of the weapons for the group. His file was destroyed in the 1973 National Archives fire, but there are records associated with his payment history. According to a transcript of the record he also served in the following “battles and campaigns”:
Air Offensive Europe
Central Europe
Normandy
Northern France
Rhineland
Ardennes-Alsace
Here is a photo of Murray:
Murray died in 1984 from a heart attack he experienced while on a commercial plane flight.
I never thanked him for his service.
Luanne is the author of the marvelous collection of poetry and short fiction capturing vignettes of her family history, Kin Types–the only book of poetry I’ve featured on my website. A refreshing way of capturing the people on one’s family tree.
January 29, 2020
Things Unseen: Living in Light of Forever
The Book
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Blending pastoral warmth, philosophical depth, storytelling skill, and literary craft, Mark Buchanan encourages Christians to make heaven, literally, our “fixation” — filling our vision, gripping our heart, and anchoring our hope. Only then, says Buchanan, can we become truly fearless on this earth, free from the fear of losing our life, property, status, title, or comfort; free from the threat of tyrants, the power of armies, and the day of trouble.
Buchanan reawakens the instinctive yearning for things above, showing that only the heavenly minded are of much earthly good.
The Author
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Mark Buchanan is a pastor and freelance writer/editor who lives with his wife, Cheryl, and three children on the west coast of Canada. Educated at the University of British Columbia and Regent University, he has been published in numerous periodicals, including Christianity Today and Books and Culture.
My Thoughts
I’d been pondering the bittersweetness of life, even doing some writing about it, suspecting that unexplained longings were actually a longing for heaven. Mark Buchanan does, too, exploring this theme chapter after chapter.
Those of us familiar with the movie “Karate Kid” will enjoy Chapter 15, “Wax On, Wax Off,” suggesting that just as Mr. Miyagi’s curious instructions to Daniel were a secret apprenticeship in learning karate, one day we may discover that our mundane and even excruciating days are apprenticeship for heaven.
January 27, 2020
Danny Wilson: Combat Through January 1945
Starting early New Year’s eve and lasting through the day, Dan’s base in Italy had a heavy wet snow. To bring in the New Year, the guys in all the shacks “put up a small barrage” outside with their .45s. Danny had several tracers in his clip which made long continuous streaks in the dark.
New Years day, he and one of his “shackmates” went on a hike, shooting at rocks and clods in the snow. “Was certainly O.K. to walk around in the snow, even if it wasn’t back there in Iowa where there’s a little game along with it.” He said that they didn’t have time for an interesting all day hike like they used to take back in Iowa.
Two of the men in his shack were from Iowa and one from Oklahoma. “The Okie can’t make out worth hell in arguments in this hut. ha. All are a bunch of damn swell buddies.” He said they had the best looking hut, inside and out, in the squadron.
[image error]Pilots Wilson and Tomlinson
He often looked over the pictures his folks had sent of their new place near Perry. “It sure looks keen, and they were taken even before ‘the Wilsons’ took over. Yes, it’s even on the best land; in the best State; in the best damn country in the world. That’s for damn sure.”
The target on Danny’s ninth mission was the Doboj railroad bridge in Yugoslavia on January 5. His was one of eighteen fighters that rendezvoused with bombers of the British Royal Air Force over Brac Island in the Adriatic Sea. There was flak in the bridge area and also at Doboj. They could see the bomb hits on the bridge and on the road at both ends of it.
Later that day Danny wrote home. He’d just gotten three letters and a package from them and a letter from Donald. He said he’d read the letters over two and three times.
His mother Leora had included a Des Moines newspaper. Danny said it showed a farmer in Italy using donkeys, like the ones where he was. In other areas they used mostly oxen.
On January 8 Danny’s Lightning, along with forty-one others, rendezvoused with B-17 Flying Fortresses and escorted them to Linz South Main Marshalling Yard in Austria. The fighters dropped chaff and closely escorted the bombers at the target. They were over the marshalling yard ten long minutes, buffeted by bursts of flak. They landed safely, although two were low on fuel and landed at friendly fields.
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Danny was on the list for the January 20 mission to Austria. Over forty Lightnings escorted B-24s of the 49th Wing over the Linz North Main Marshalling Yard. They were met by flak during the seventeen minutes they were over the yard. One of the bombers exploded. No parachutes were seen. A minute later, another bomber was hit by flak and went down on fire. No chutes.
Eleven of the fighters also strafed in the Graz area on the way back to their field. They damaged a locomotive and a boxcar were destroyed, three boxcars and three freight cars damaged. The other P-38s escorted the surviving bombers to the Austria-Yugoslav border. They dodged more flack at Triest and Treviso, Italy. When they got back, two Lightnings had been lost. One of the caught fire, rolled over, and crashed. The other turned back with an escort but was lost in the overcast.
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Danny’s January 21st mission was to again escort bombers and drop chaff, along with thirty-nine others. The bombers were B-17s of the 5th Wing. The target was the Vienna Lobau Oil Blending Plant. One was hit by flak at Klagenfurt, Austria. Another fighter was lost, last seen in the target area. Two crash landed at their home field.
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“I just received the jackpot on mail,” Danny wrote home. They’d waited several days for the mail to get to their squadron, but he got two letters from home, and one each from Darlene, Junior, and Doris. He said the picture of his folks when Junior was there were sure swell, but I couldn’t find the photo he referred to.
Yes, he said, he could see Spats running around with a mitten. “Wonder what Spats would do if he saw Dale. Or, I should say, the other way around. I wouldn’t know who would be most tickled.” Dale had been missing in action for over a year.
Italy’s weather was hindering what they pilots were there for, with snow and half an inch of ice over the puddles. During bad weather, they had classes anyway, and practiced in the Link trainer.
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The 14th Fighter Group only flew twenty-nine missions during the month of January, 1945, six of them bomber escort. The rest were photo reconnaissance or supply dropping escort. The weather had been miserable–rain and snowstorms. Italian Alpine troops assisted the engineers with better drainage to reduce the mud and flooding at the base.
The Group had lost seven planes and five pilots that month, which made the war that much more real.
According to Air Force Combat Units of World War II: The Concise Official Military Record, the 14th Fighter Group consisted of four squadrons. I couldn’t ascertain how many P-38 Lightnings were in each squadron.[image error]
January 23, 2020
Understanding Suicide – a Remarkable Guest Post
Writer Mark Buchanan talks about “the crucible of shared emotion,” in his book, Things Unseen.
Mike Wombat Walrod, a Facebook friend, lives with it every day, even more so when he officiates at a celebration of life service for someone who’s taken his own life.
This quote from Mother Teresa was part of his Facebook post, January 19, 2020:
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by Reverend Michael “Wombat” Walrod
Good morning my brothers and sisters.
After officiating at a Celebration of Life yesterday for a young man who took his life thought this to be very befitting. Was a very sad and emotional day for many. Did have some humorous moments and hope that some how those in attendance found some comfort, peace, and somewhat of an understanding.
To stand there and hug a father whose pain you know and understand, to hug a sobbing mother who found comfort knowing you have been through what she is going through, to hugging and talking with a 13 year old boy who is hurting, confused, and feeling guilt over his dad’s death, to having a 4 year daughter of the deceased giving you a hug because she knows you need one, to hugging his friend after he eulogized his dead friend, to hugging people you don’t know but are in pain and they need comfort, to meeting a brother and son who has the best behaved children and great wife to support him, to talking with a man who found his son before it was too late.
Yesterday, on the way over to Adel for service a lot of memories from 17 years and 4 months ago started flooding back. The time when my family went through this with Clint. I prayed for strength, for Clint to stand beside me and he did, for understanding. And suddenly something hit me that l think l have actually known all this time but just have never grasped it.
I finally realized in understanding suicide, one must get to the point of understanding there is no understanding it. And when you do you will find some peace. I found that yesterday.
As l looked out my window after this hit me I watched a bald eagle fly over and stop and hover as l passed. The Spirit was speaking. Always remember, it gets better no matter what.
Hope all can find some peace and happiness today. Stay warm and GO CHIEFS. Peace and enjoy life.
Oh yeah also at service l screwed up when l was talking about how a child’s death is harder on the mother. How their bond starts before birth, how she carried him for 9 months, fed him, and then l said she nurtured him but l slipped up and said neutered him. One lady corrected me right away. A lot of laughter filled the room after that one.
RIP Cade Long!
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Mike Walrod has a heart of gold. Since his ordination four years ago, he’s held close to sixty celebrations of life services. Working through many losses in his own life has given him such empathy for grieving families.
Last month Mike shared his childhood story, “Saved by Nativity Scene.”
January 22, 2020
Tap Code by Col. Carlyle “Smitty” Harris
The Book
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When Air Force pilot Captain Carlyle “Smitty” Harris was shot down over Vietnam on April 4, 1965, he had no idea what horrors awaited him in the infamous Hoa Lo prison–nicknamed the “Hanoi Hilton.” Harris was the sixth American POW captured in the air war over North Vietnam, and for the next eight years, Smitty and hundreds of other American POWs–including John McCain and George “Bud” Day–suffered torture, solitary confinement, and abuse.
Their dignity was taken, their wills were challenged, and their bodies were bruised and battered. But in the midst of the struggle, Smitty remembered once learning the Tap Code–an old, long-unused World War II method of communication through tapping on a common water pipe. He covertly taught the code to many POWs, and in turn they taught others.
Simple and effective, the Tap Code quickly spread throughout the prison and became one of the most covert ways for POWs to communicate without their captors’ knowledge. It became a lifeline during their internment–a morale booster, a vehicle of unity, and a way to communicate the chain of command–and was instrumental in helping them prevail over a brutal enemy.
Back home, meanwhile, Harris’s wife, Louise, raised their three children alone, unsure of her husband’s fate. One of the first POW wives of the Vietnam War, she became a role model for many wives, advocating for herself and her children in her husband’s absence.
Told through both Smitty’s and Louise’s voices, Tap Code shares a riveting true story of ingenuity under pressure, strength and dignity in the face of the enemy, the love of family, and the hope, faith, and resolve necessary to endure even the darkest circumstances.
The Author
Carlyle Smith Harris rose to the rank of Air Force Colonel. During his Air Force career he received two Silver Stars, three Legion of Merits, the Distinguished Flying Cross, to Purple Hearts, and the Eagle Award through the Gathering of Eagles Foundation.
His tin cup from his days as a POW is now in the Smithsonian.
He lives with his wife, Louise, and is surrounded by his large family in Tupelo, Mississippi.
My Thoughts
What an incredible chapter in the lives of a couple separated for nearly eight years because the husband was a POW of the North Vietnamese. Smitty Harris captured when his F-105 Thunderchief was shot down over North Vietnam. Louise Harris was pregnant with their third child, so endured those years as a single parent. Their stories are told chapter by chapter, with the most remarkable episodes endured by the POWs themselves.
Even though shuttled from camp to camp, being ill-treated and subjected to incessant propaganda, they learned to communicate in several ways, the most ingenious being the Tap Code that Harris had learned and taught the others. They also adhered to a soldier’s Code of Conduct that was noteworthy. Harris relied on his faith in God, in his wife Louise, and in his military training to return home with honor, which was his goal.
An exceptionally fulfilling book.
January 20, 2020
Facebook: a Place of Grace and Redemption?
Why the need to save old history? Why start Facebook pages for old history? For one thing, it’s fun. And it’s a place to share old photos and stories with people who have connections to them.
One Friday in 2018, the Historic Guthrie County, Iowa, Facebook page became a place of grace and redemption.
One man I’ll call *Phil recognized another’s name, giving feedback to something I’d written about an ancestor. He wrote a note right on that Facebook feed:
“Dear *John, I am now at an age and distance where somethings I’ve always wanted to say to you I can and will. Admired you year by year. . . You were always friendly to me at school . . . letting me inside the conversations now and then. . . you were kind to me, I was so lonely, etc.”
*Charles joined the conversation, saying that he didn’t know Phil had been through so much. Another healing connection.
Then *Dave wrote that he admired Phil’s courage for his note.
Four men of a certain age, reconnecting on a Facebook page, because of a story I wrote about an old ancestor in rural Iowa.
How amazing, and humbling.
*Names changed
January 17, 2020
Husky, Wilson’s Pet German Shepherd
When Wilsons lived SE of Dexter, Clabe saw an ad for a German Shepherd pup. He wrote to ask if the owner would take a revolver in trade, the one he’d used as a night watchman. The deal was made so Clabe mailed the firearm, and the pup arrived on the train.
They named it Husky for Beatty’s dog, which had accompanied Clabe from 1921-1925, when he made rounds as the Stuart nightwatchman.
A German Shepherd’s ears stand up, alert. Husky’s didn’t. Clabe wrote the seller about the ears. He suggested rubbing them. They did, but Husky’s ears always lopped over, left ear forward, right ear cocked back. They loved him anyway.
The new pet liked Leora best and minded her, probably because she was the one who fed him.
Husky flinched when he saw a gun and didn’t like to go hunting. During a thunderstorm, he’d push into the house and hide under the big round table. Leora told the kids to just leave him alone, that he’d be okay once the storm was over.
He’d follow the Wilson school bus buggy and sneak into the school. One time the teacher allowed him to lie by Delbert and Donald at their desks. Once he found Doris in first grade. He lay by her desk until recess, when Doris was mortified that he scattered sand out of the sandbox.
[image error]Nancy pulled the “school bus buggy” with Delbert, Doris, and Donald. Delbert left the horse in a barn, which belonged to their landlord, which was near the school.
Doris and Donald rode in a one-seat buggy with their dad two or three miles south to get a black and white rat terrier pup as a companion for Husky. Donald got to hold it on their way home. They named it Tricks. Tricks liked to hunt and was bossy. When the dogs would come upon some prey, Husky would let Tricks catch it. Even if Husky had a varmint in his mouth, Tricks growled until Husky gave it up.
[image error]Delbert with Tricks, Husky, Donald. SE of Dexter. About 1925.
Tricks died after being hit by a car. The whole family grieved, especially Doris.
Husky moved with the family to south of Dexter on Old Creamery Road in 1926, to the Peyton Acreage on the south edge of Dexter in 1927, and to the Hammond House in town in early 1929. The Great Depression has already begun for the Wilson family.
A farmer in the area discovered dog tracks when he tried to determine what was killing his sheep. I wonder if Clabe suspected Husky. One night he caught the Shepherd leaving after the family was in bed, and found the Husky’s tracks leading to the farm. He talked with Leora about having no money to pay for the dead sheep.
While the kids were at school, Clabe shot and buried their pet dog.
While the whole family grieved, according to oldest son Delbert, it was especially hard on Clabe.
