Joy Neal Kidney's Blog, page 92

She Said Yes–Guest Love Story by Jacque Johnson

Adel Quilting & Dry Goods Co. calls itself “The Little Quilt Shop on the Prairie” is owned by at least a 4th generation quilter, my cousin Jacque Johnson.

They offer several Block of the Month programs each year–to display a quilt and to break down into monthly steps. Customers come in once a month to pick up the instructions and the fabric for part of the quilt, along with part of a short story that loosely references some of the block names in the quilt.

The Story Quilt is designed by Patience Griffin. Local quilters may begin to recognize Yes and No in this story, but the rest of us will enjoy the sweet spirit behind it.


[image error]Flying Geese block

She was asked to: Host a family dinner – She said yes. Babysit a friend’s kids – She said yes. Organize a fund raiser – She said yes. Play piano at church – She said yes. Make a quick raffle quilt – She said yes. Take a temporary position as a choir director – She said yes. Chaperone prom after party – She said yes. 

If requests came in a written sequence like this, it would be easy to recognize getting in too deep. But, that’s not the way it works. Presented one at a time with days or even weeks in between, these questions all seem like doable or charitable tasks so yes was always the answer that popped out. Sometimes it felt like geese were flying east just to circle and fly straight back west. 

Unfortunately, she was married to a man that always said no. You may not know this but, being married to a No man when you are a Yes woman comes with its challenges. Want to hear a story? 

Moon and Star Blocks

The year was 1994 and Yes had been invited by No to go to the state fair. It was a beautiful evening. They took a ride on the double Ferris wheel, swinging so high the moon and stars seemed just a short reach away. 

I don’t believe either Yes or No expected much of the evening. Maybe that’s why it worked so well. It ended at a George Strait concert where No pretended he couldn’t remember where he parked his car but Yes didn’t believe him, or maybe she just thought it would be fine to sit there together until all of the other cars had left the parking lot. 

Bachelors Puzzle and Crossroads Blocks

Yes was a busy mother of teenagers and No was a bachelor. The choice to not live together but rather just to enjoy each other’s companionship between ballgames and high school concerts was an easy one. So easy it went on for 7 years and included an anniversary trip to the state fair every year. 

One Christmas Eve, No got down on one knee and Yes said – – – – well, she said yes! They were married on the 7th anniversary of their first date. It was wonderful and it was transformative. 

House Block and Heart Blocks

No was used to living alone and it took some gentle nudging to get him to move over enough to let Yes into his space. Because Yes was always saying yes to everyone for everything, No sometimes felt left out or pressured to do something out of his comfort zone (also known as the recliner and TV). After a particularly heated debate on the topic followed by a cooling off period, Yes was fixing supper and not wearing a very happy face. Safe to say that supper may have been a little burnt around the edges that evening. No walked into the kitchen and said, “I am just an old man, stuck in my ways and I know I can be aggravating. Will you forgive me and will you still love me?” – – – – – She said yes. 

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Tree applique’

Love is like a tree. The roots go deep and sustain us through the gentle breezes and the brutal winds. The trunk tethers us together while the branches allow us to go our separate ways – – – – even from Earth to Heaven.

Adel Quilting & Dry Goods Co.
909 Prairie Street
Adel, IA. 50003

If you would like to participate, call us at 515-993-1170. We ship!



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Love is like a tree. The roots go deep and sustain us through the gentle breezes and the brutal winds. The trunk tethers us together while the branches allow us to go our separate ways – – – – even from Earth to Heaven.

Forgotten Fifteenth: The Daring Airmen Who Crippled Hitler’s War Machine

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About the Book

November 1943—May 1945—The U.S. Army Air Forces waged an unprecedentedly dogged and violent campaign against Hitler’s vital oil production and industrial plants on the Third Reich’s southern flank. Flying from southern Italy, far from the limelight enjoyed by the Eighth Air Force in England, the Fifteenth Air Force engaged in high-risk missions spanning most of the European continent. The story of the Fifteenth Air Force deserves a prideful place in the annals of American gallantry.

In his new book, Forgotten Fifteenth: The Daring Airmen Who Crippled Hitler’s War Machine, Tillman brings into focus a seldom-seen multinational cast of characters, including pilots from Axis nations Romania, Hungary, and Bulgaria and many more remarkable individuals. They were the first generation of fliers—few of them professionals—to conduct a strategic bombing campaign against a major industrial nation. They suffered steady attrition and occasionally spectacular losses. In so doing, they contributed to the end of the most destructive war in history.

Forgotten Fifteenth is the first-ever detailed account of the Fifteenth Air Force in World War II and the brave men that the history books have abandoned until now. Tillman proves this book is a must-read for military history enthusiasts, veterans, and current servicemen.

The Author

Barrett Tillman (b. 1948) was born into a NE Oregon ranching family and developed an early interest in aviation history. He learned to fly as a teenager, was first published at age 15, and graduated from the University of Oregon with a journalism degree in 1971. He has worked as a newspaper reporter, book publisher, and magazine editor, but has been self employed all but seven years since graduating from college. Though best known for his histories of US naval aviation, he also has published six novels plus short stories, and has sold a screenplay.

Tillman continues writing nonfiction books and has written more than 550 articles in the US and abroad. He frequently appears as a commentator on TV documentaries in addition to his speaking appearances. The recipient of six writing awards, he lives with his wife in Arizona.

Tillman’s web site and blog are found at http://www.btillman.com.

My Thoughts

Lt. Daniel S. Wilson served in the 15th Army Air Force, 14th Fighter Group, 38th Fighter Squadron, based at Triolo in the Foggia complex, near the Adriatic coast of Italy, from late 1944 through early 1945. His brother, Lt. Dale R. Wilson, was Missing in Action in New Guinea, having flown several times over the treacherous Owen Stanley Mountains.

Dan Wilson also flew over mountains, the snowy Alps, on his missions. Established by Maj. Gen. Jimmy Doolittle (in November, 1943, before being transferred a few months later to command the 8th Air Force in England). Bomber and fighter groups of the 15th Air Force were based around the same area of Italy. Their missions were mostly in Austria, Yugoslavia, and eventually Germany.

The winter of 1944-45 was a miserable one, with heavy persistent rain and dense clouds, keeping operations from proceeding. Dan Wilson experienced that, but was also kept busy trying to scrape together materials with other pilots to build a shack for a decent shelter during the winter.

Forgotten Fifteenth takes the reader from Tunisia to the move to Italy and combat over occupied Europe, especially oil refineries, through heavy flak and anti-aircraft fire around these heavily guarded industrial sites.

An appendix lists all the units of the 15th Air Force and the name of their bases, bombing statistics, names of leading aces, sources, notes, and a bibliography. Very thorough.

Danny Wilson: Last Letter

Dan Wilson’s last letter was written on lightweight airmail paper. The fountain pen ink bled through a little so is hard to read.

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February 11, 1945

Italy

Dear Folks,

Received your V-mail letter of Jan. 27, yesterday. Very glad to hear from you. I hadn’t had any mail for about a week. Also received the Jan. Reader’s Digest. I’ve read several of the stories and articles in it already and the other three men in this shack have read it also. It’s interesting reading for everyone. Thanks a lot for sending it, Mom.

I wrote in my last letter of several prisoners being freed at Manila. I found out later that the majority were found to be civilian internees; but there were several hundred military personnel included. The more territory that the American armies take from those Japs, the damn sure closer it becomes to the day when we hear from Dale.

When you wrote that Dale was missing on a straffing [sic] attack on an airdrome, I can understand the circumstances they were up against.

Well, I have been flying some this week; but the rest of the time has been the same routine procedures. When it rains, a guy can’t do very damn much anyway. Today is cloudy, but it’s not raining, yet.

I think I’ll wait for the noon mail to see if I received any. If I do, I’ll probably have something to write on in answering them.

Well, I got some mail alright! A big letter with picture of frosty trees in front of place from you written on Feb. 1. Also a good letter from Junior and a V-mail from Doris.

I think I’ll just answer your letter as you have them written in your letter.

Glad you got the map that you have. Seems that you can spot things out damn well on it.

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Glad you’re sending that film you mentioned. I figure that it will be plenty of film alright. The ones with the cameras and film like to keep the negatives themselves; and send them home to have them printed, as it’s hard and sometimes impossible to get them printed here. To get them developed into negatives is a simple process and can be pretty easily done here, though. So, I’ll soon be able to gather up some negatives to send along with the pictures, and maybe you can get a few extras made of the better ones and send one of so to each of the rest of the Wilson family.

Yes, Junior is too far along in flying to be taken out of it. They have been taking air force personnel into the infantry, but as yet I haven’t heard of air-crew personnel transfered [sic] to it.

Junior is doing O.K. there with the AT-6. Says it’s foggy there in the mornings; being along the coast. His letters recalls to me of the same things I did. Seems that they’re trying to get some of them into being a damn “Flight engineer” on a damn B-29. Of course that doesn’t go for a pilot that’s all out for fighters. Junior’s in line for the P-51 or P-47.

I haven’t heard from Donald for some time. He’s without a doubt the one in the family who’s seeing and in on the most action.

I’m glad you wrote in detail about what happened to Dale’s plane. And those letters the other folks have written to you. I think it’s great of you to all correspond with each other. Yes, Dale will be walking in there at home sometimes, soon.

This is about all for now. I’ll put in a couple of pictures that I have now.

Wishing you the best of everything.

Love always,

Dan

[image error]Leora noted, “Rec’d Feb. 24”

 

 

 

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

“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.

Reverse Shoulder Replacement – Say What?

Happening this week.

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

She Burst into Tears at the Doctor’s Office

Book Review: Leora’s Letters OR How I Learned Empathy for Americans During WWII

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.

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.

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]

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.”