Personal Experiences Hurricane David Savannah GA, Sept 4, 1979 Sometimes we are able to live through a disastrous storm and be able to find pleasant memories about it years later. September 4, 1979, Hurricane David made landfall at Savannah, Georgia, after a devastating path through the Caribbean. My husband, son and I were living in there in a row house near the historic downtown area.  My husband was a native of Savannah so he knew how to prepare for the storm. I had grown up in eastern Montana and Wyoming so I had no experience with hurricane storm patterns. Row Houses Early that day, as the rain was already filling the storm drains and causing street flooding several inches deep, we hurried to the grocery store and got chicken and vegetables, other necessary foods and some presto logs to use in our fireplace.  Then it was home again so I could start cooking meals that could be heated in the fireplace. I finished the stove cooking just a few minutes before we lost electrici...

By National Photo Company - Library of Congress Prints & Photographs Online Catalog, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=6992872 Aunt Beulah's Memory "The forest fires were very bad that year.  A number of men’s lives were lost in this part of the country.  In one instance, Papa’s good judgment in using the “back-fire method” (only one other man stood by him in this decision) prevented serious losses in the Blue Creek area."   Beulah Stowe was born on the Stowe farm located on Tubb Hill above Coeur d'Alene Lake May 6, 1910.  In memories collected by her son, Larry Strobel, in 1968, she wrote the paragraph above.  Of course, she was less than four months old when the fires occurred that summer but the devastation and years of recovery certainly made an impact on her life and her family. Beulah Stowe Strobel,  Stowe Memories of Coeur d'Alene  1968 A collection of stories written by Beulah Stowe Strobel and her sister, ...

The recent flooding destruction and tragedy in the hill country of central Texas shows us that people often choose to live close to danger. Closer to home, remember when " Mount St. Helens erupted for nine hours on May 18, 1980 destroying plant and animal life in the surrounding 230 square miles of forest and killing 57 people. In this post-eruption image, Spirit Lake is buried by debris." Famously, Harry Truman refused to leave his home on Spirit Lake, and is presumably buried under the debris shown in the photo below. Mt. St. Helens from  https://catalog.archives.gov/  via Picryl.com Recovery from this utter destruction seemed impossible, but the next photo shows that nature is creative and resilient—and so are we humans.  Aerial photo of Mount St. Helens (center), with Mount Hood (in the distance, far left), Spirit Lake (on left with floating log mat), and St. Helens Lake with a little ice cover (lower left). USGS image taken by K. Spicer on June 6, 2024. Public Domain...

Library at St. Florian Monastery - Goodwill Librarian at Facebook Many, many years ago, in what seems to be another lifetime, I read a little story about books in a library that comes back to haunt me.  The story was in an obscure book or magazine in somebody else's possession, so totally inaccessible. The closest answer to an internet search reveals, The Book of the Elders, Sayings of the Desert Fathers  translated and compiled by John Wortley, 1993; several years after I read the original story.  This book is available on Amazon for over $41, a bit outside my budget. The basic premise of the story was that there was a monastery which had an extensive library, faithfully maintained by the monks. One evening the abbot of the monastery was enjoying the evening air as he walked around the walls when he encountered Satan. In a conversation that followed, Satan boasted of some recent accomplishments in the downfall of men but he also voiced a complaint to the abbot. "As long ...

Image by  Suzanne Morris  from  Pixabay   In Flanders Fields BY   JOHN MCCRAE In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row,      That mark our place; and in the sky     The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below. We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,     Loved and were loved, and now we lie,         In Flanders fields. Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from failing hands we throw     The torch; be yours to hold it high.     If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow         In Flanders fields. Human need to honor The need to remember our dead seems to be part of our human psyche. From prehistoric and Viking burial mounds to Egyptian tombs and Roman coffins, from Victorian mausoleums to battleground burials and monuments, humans from the beginning hav...

Battle of Lexington and Concord, from a Public domain scan of the vintage historic postcard by Picryl. By the rude bridge that arched the flood,     Their flag to April’s breeze unfurled, Here once the embattled farmers stood,     And fired the shot heard round the world. (1) April 19 is the semiquincentennial, the 250th  Anniversary of the Battle of Lexington and Concord, the beginning of the Revolutionary War . From our grade school history classes, most of us remember about Paul Revere and his midnight ride to warn the colonists that the British were coming. It was at Lexington and Concord that the first skirmishes occurred and the "shot heard round the world" was fired. When you think about events that happened during an ancestor's lifetime, do you wonder if your ancestor was present at that event?  I do. This was during my fourth great-grandfather Jonah Stow's lifetime and through my early research of his military records, I knew that he wasn...

Book Jacket from Amazon  November, 1896  Salford, England On a very cold day in industrial Salford, England, Harold became the newest resident of the local workhouse.  His wife and children had gone home to her family until Harold could find work to support his family.     'So, what's your story, mate? Why are you in here?'        'It's a long story.'      'I'm sure it is, but we've got a long time.' . . . 'We likes a good story, mate. So what's yours?'      For a second, a memory of his grandfather sitting round a fire telling his stories of  t he past came back to him.  Maybe it was time to tell what had happened and why he was here.      The scent of the tobacco helped him decide.     'I was born in the Moon when Trees Crack with the Cold, or what you would call February in Salford. . .' 1 March, 2024 Manchester England Martin and Isobel Walker are brother and siste...