Yet More Old Pics

This picture is from Hong Kong 1968 at the Tiger Balm Gardens (since destroyed to make room for apartments I understand). Aren't we a happy bunch?


The following picture is of me and some of my friends at a Christmas party I had during my senior year of high school. I graduated early, and never went back after the holiday break, since classes began at BYU the first week of January. I finished my first semester and came home, got a job, and graduated with my class. The red dress I'm wearing had been my mother's.


When I was at BYU, I lived the first couple of year in Heritage Halls. I served as the vice president for my dorm (Gates Hall) one year, and the following year Charlene Stout--who had been president when I was vice president) served as the president of entire Heritage Halls Council (all the dorm presidents). Chuck Sprout (as she was nicknamed) asked me to be her secretary/historian. This picture is from a leadership training meeting we attended at Brighton.

Korea

I started school at the South Post Dependent's School in Seoul, Korea back before there was dirt. I was going through one of the photo albums my dad gave me, and decided to share a few pictures of the Korean dresses my mom and I had. I still have my mom's dress.

Here's my mom and me:


Here's my brother David and me:


Here's me in my dress in front of our quarters (duplex):


Here's a picture of some friends of my parents at their home in Seoul.

I remember going to their home, them coming for Thanksgiving (I think), and eventually seeing some extended family members who were in the U.S. years later.

Not Quite So Old Pictures

This is Ed in elementary school:


This is Ed a little bit older:

(He has a couple of pictures where he looks not at all like someone I would have dated. But here . . . shhhh, don't let him know I think he looks dang cute--it will go to his head.)

This is me in 3rd Grade:

Notice the huge gap between my front teeth. I used to be able to put a nickle there--hmmmm . . .not such a good thing to do. But I fixed it later this school year. I tried to do something tricky while throwing a baseball and ended up doing a face plant (or chin plant, actually) instead. I put my front teeth through my bottom lip and all my teeth moved forward. No more gap. But they were afraid I might lose my front teeth, so we watched forever to see if the nerves would die and the teeth turn black. Fortunately, all I ended up with was a scar and sensitive teeth for a year.

This is me in 9th grade:

Aren't those bangs horrible? I grew them out in the 10th grade, but there was SO much hair--especially during PE. Ugh!

Here are the senior pictures for me and my brother Dave (can't tell we're related, can you?):


Here's our younger sister, Darcy, at graduation (her picture wouldn't fit the same row):


Here's a picture of me when I was in the Army:

Poor Ed

It's just as well I broke my tail bone and couldn't get to California to see the family this weekend, because Ed's made it so we couldn't have gone anyway. The blood thinner they have him on because of the lung blood clots he dealt with last March have some unhappy consequences. One is that you bleed a lot easier.

Well, at the end of last week, Ed and the boys were doing a tile job and Ed was on his knees. He uses knee pads, but evidently he busted a blood vessel and his poor left knee is a mess. They tried draining it yesterday and it's a very painful. He's using a cane right now. He's not in horrible pain once he gets moving, but when he's had it up (to decrease the swelling) and first gets moving . . . wow, it's bad.

Poor guy! He can't win. His birthday is the 31st of the month, and we have two more years before he can retire. I hope we can make it that long!

Pioneers

I thought I would share this, since Friday is the celebration of Pioneer Day here in Utah.

My great grandfather, William Lonzo Kaneaster, was born in northern Georgia in 1861 and actually remembered both armies (Union and Confederate) going through the area by his home at the end of the war. The troops stopped for water and soldiers would bounce him on their knees. I guess it's a good thing they were "po' folks", so there was no need for those Yankees to burn the place to the ground. Many years later he drove a wagon as a profession and traveled around the west--you can tell the different places he and my great grandmother lived by the birth locations of the children. My grandmother, Hazel, was the youngest of their 11 children and was born in the Territory of Arizona.

Here's a picture of William and his wife, Mary Melinda Duke (born in Mississippi):


William's father was Josiah Kaneaster, who fought on the side of the Confederacy during the Civil War. William's mother was Sarah Hamblin.

William and Mary eventually joined the LDS Church, and when he was an old man, there was an article in a Church publication that talked about an incident that happened in the early days of the Church in Georgia. It involved the murder of a missionary--Elder Standing--at the hands of a mob. It just so happens that William was intimately involved with the incident, and he felt the story of the tragedy was not completely told. William decided to write down his account of what happened.

For additional articles on this event, click here, here, here, here, and here

The Martyrdom of Joseph Standing - July 21, 1879
as remembered by William 'Lonzo Kaneaster

I am going to write a little history of the Joseph Standing martyrdom in the state of Georgia at my old home. He was killed on my grandfather's farm, an old place in the hills where no one liked to live. But I must tell this as I know it to be from the time the Elders first arrived in our community for I came across the LDS Biographical Encyclopedia, Volume 3, page 719 at the Mesa Temple while on research work and opened to the reports of that tragedy and found some important bits of information left out, although I don't blame anyone for doing it intentionally.

In the month of September 1878, I was staying with grandfather Kaneaster as a nurse. He had had an accident and got his collarbone and shoulder blade broken and I had to stay with him six days out of the week. On one Sunday morning in September the party that came to relieve me told grandfather the Mormons were going to preach at Smith Chapel at 10 o'clock. That was new to me. I went home to fix to go to hear the strange people and my mother asked me where I was going. I told her I was going down to the school house to hear the Mormons.

"My," she said, "I wouldn't go to make any such people as that congregation."

"Yes, Mother, I am going to see who they are, and what they have to say," I said.

About the same time my mother's grandmother, my great grandmother, was shining herself up to go and grandmother said, "Mother, where are you fixing to go?"

"I am going over to the school house to hear the Mormons and see what kind of people they are." So, she and I were all that went to listen.

Elder Standing sang the first Mormon song we ever heard, "O, Say What is Truth," and Elder John Morgan delivered the first sermon. He spoke two and a half hours as fast as he could talk, and he wasn't slow. When we got home, "Grandmother," said Mother, "what did you hear?" She pointed her finger and said, "I heard the first sermon I ever hear in my life." She was eight-five years young.

When I landed home Mother said, "William, what did you hear?" I told her I heard the best sermon I ever heard." That set my three mother's and Mother's sister, Aunt Molley Hamblin, to going and on New Years Day, 1879, these three mothers of mine were baptized by Elder Standing in the same water hole in the creek, besides several neighbors were baptized. Brother Standing and I were coming from town in February and on the way I asked him for baptism. He walked several steps with his face toward the ground and when he spoke he said, "William, I think you will be of more value out of the Church for awhile yet."

I told him, "All right, I will put it off for the present." I wasn't baptized until 1891, about twelve years later. Six years after, I was married.

Later on, Elder Standing and Brother Charles W. Hardy left our settlement and went to Fannin and Union Counties. In April Brother Hardy was released from his mission. He came to Varnell Station settlement to catch a train and failed to reach the depot in time. The train had been gone about ten minutes.

He came to our house and said to me, "William, if you will rustle in a few of the saints, I will hold another meeting." So my brother Mat and I got a nice little crowd together at my father's house and had the meeting. Just as the meeting concluded someone looked out and saw a bunch of men coming. This was the first mob. Elder Hardy asked the women in the house to raise the window and let him out. He did not want to cause any trouble. As he was going home, he left through a field of corn to reach the road he would travel to the railroad. They raised the window and this was the farewell day, April 20, 1879 to Brother Charles W. Hardy.

The next mob was about May the first when Brother Rudger Clawson came on his way to take up his mission with Brother Standing in Fannin County, about seventy-five miles east of Varnell Station. As my memory serves me, he only stopped one night in our settlement and went on his journey with team and hack.

The following night after Clawson was gone after we were retired and asleep, someone rapped on the front door. I got up and opened the door. This time it wasn't the Elders visiting us. It was a yard black with black looking men in the shade of night. The inquiring visitor said, "Where is the d----d Mormon preacher?"

I told them, "I don't know that it is any of your business."

Another spoke up, "Don't be too loud about it, there are seventy-five of us."

I told them, "I don't care if there are a hundred and seventy-five. Get out of the yard!"

Another little fellow spoke up, "Yes, we understand you've got a gun."

"Yes, and it is in my hand and your time is about up."

I was ignorant enough to think it an honor to shoot somebody. No thought of law entered my mind. They were soon gone from Joe Kaneaster's. Next they called on Brother Elledge. He was an aged man, his hair was gray. He had been captain in the Southern Army during the Civil War. He went to the door when the visitors rapped to see who his callers might be, but found it wasn't LDS Elders.

The inquiry was, "Where's the d----d Mormon preacher?"

He said, "I don't know that it concerns you, get out of my yard."

"There are 75 of us," said one of the party.

"Well," said Father Elledge, "there never were enough men made to scare me," and stepped inside for a gun. But someone had taken the gun and, he had no gun. He came back to the door in time to see the last man going out at the gate. This caused some little excitement, threats of what they would do. I was going to school at Varnell Station and sang some Mormon songs on the way going and coming to school. Brother Loggins stopped his son and daughter from going to school for fear the mob would take action on me for singing Utah and Mormon songs along the road.

Here is what I learned from the LDS Encyclopedia, Vol. 3 at the Temple. Brother Standing had a dream that bore on his mind and Brother Clawson and he came to Riley Loggins, one and a half miles from Henry Holstens, expecting to stop over-night, Saturday night, July 19, 1879, and were turned down absolutely. Brother Standing saw his dream being fulfilled and said, "Where can we go to get shelter for the night?" Mr. Loggins referred him to Henry Holstens.

They came on half a mile further and called at my father's house, rapped on the front door. I got up and found it to be Brother Standing and his new companion as we called him. I invited them in to stay all night and Brother Standing said, "No, we will feel safer at Mr. Holstens, as he is an old sheriff and has a reputation. We would like to leave our valises here until Monday." Then they said, "Dress yourself, William, and go with us." I slipped into my trousers and shoes and went with them to Mr. Holstens. On the way, Standing asked me if I wouldn't go to Mr. Housten Martin's in the morning and ask him to command peace. Martin told me he didn't see any disturbance to demand peace on.

I went from Martins to Holstens and told Elder Standing what Martin said, and my mother and her mother and grandmother and her sister, Aunt Molley Hamblin, were there a good portion of the day.

There was a mob along behind us Saturday night, the 19th. The mob lay on the cut-off trail where footmen and people on horseback cut over the hill instead of following around the hill. As I came back from Holstens, some whispering spirit told me to go around and I obeyed and took the road and was at home in bed while this bunch lay waiting for me under a pine tree on the top of the hill. I heard this later after Brother Standing was murdered and gone.

Sunday, July 20, 1879 had singing and conversing of the scriptures until late in the evening about 5 pm, when all went home. Above all, the Elders came first with us there under the trying conditions and persecution.

On Monday morning July 21, 1879, I went to school rather early. I had two miles to walk. Mother said I hadn't been gone long before the Elders came after their clothing. It was at Josiah Kaneaster's where they left their valises instead of Mr. Loggins where the history said they left the clothing, as it was Brother Loggins that turned them away and would not keep them.

Brother Loggins had stopped Jennie and Robert from going to school after the big mob turned out May the 1st, 1879 hunting for the Mormon preacher, Brother Rudger Clawson. This put great fear in Brother Loggin's folks. This is where his dream is fulfilled. This was in Whitfield County. Holsten lived in Catoosa County, one mile from us, and Mr. Loggins was a mile and a half from Holsten, but near the line of the two counties lay a mob of twelve ignorant men. I happen to know them: Jasper Nations, Hugh Blair, Dave Nations, Mac McCluer, Andrew Bradley, Joseph Nations, James Faucett, Benjamin Clark, Jefferson Hunt, William Nations, and A.L. Smith.

The Elders were on their way to Heywood Valley to a conference, when the mob was waiting on the road for them. The mob took the Elders up to an old wood road to a spring in a field near a house that was vacant at the time. No one lived here that year. These fellows knew it was an very isolated part of the county. On the way up to this place, my Grandmother Hamblin and her daughter, Aunt Molley Hamblin were going over the hills through the woods trying to overtake the Elders and tell them the mob was coming but were too late. They ran into the mob with the Elders. What these women had to say to the mob, I don't know, but it caused the mobbers to want to burn their houses. It was strongly threatened. I told some of them I would burn them 'til they would be tired of fire.

Tom Nations and Holsten rode out to public places and told that when these old ladies were burnt, the fire was just started. Dr. Wells and Mr. Headrick drove out to the public places and told the people to hush that fire talk, nobody wanted his property burnt. The Mormons would furnish these fellows money to leave on.

But let's go on up the draw to the spring where Elder Standing was shot down in cold blooded ignorant prejudices. After Brother Clawson had layed his companion out and was let go of the mob, he went to Holstens and told the sad story. Holsten had gone home, but Miss Kate Holsten had gotten Brother Clawson horse, saddle, and bridle and directed him to Catoosa Springs, about four miles from where the coroner lived. On his way he met seven of the mob that came over the hill from the massacre. Brother Clawson was riding in a fast lope and these fellows asked him where he was going. He said, "I'm going west," which he was and while he was gone for the coroner, Miss Holsten and old Granddad Leatherwood went up to where Standing was. He was yet alive but was unconscious with a small pistol bullet in his forehead, just a little above the eyes and between the eyes. There were so many men running from one tree to another and from one thicket to another, the old man and Kate Holsten got afraid to stay and went home. When the coroner came, the mob had shot him a second time with a double barreled shot gun, one lead where the first shot was and one above. It was done at close range. His right hand had about a dozen scattered shot about over the hand. All was scattered and no two were together. I never could figure that out; the two holes in his forehead were about large enough to turn a man's thumb around in without touching the fractured parts.

Late in the day or evening of this date, Aunt Matilda Huffaker met Jud Smith coming out of the woods on this same old trail from this place where Brother Standing was slain and Aunt Tilda said good evening to Smith. "It's a good day." She hadn't yet heard of the killing.

Smith said back to her, "Ah, law, the day of grace is gone." Later someone told the old lady what had occurred and she then could see what Jud Smith was mixed up in. This same man had killed a negro about three years before and was running from the law until James Tinsley of Dalton, Georgia, lay for Smith at Varnell Station at a beginning of a protracted Methodist meeting. He met Smith with his girl and was shaking hands and told Smith to stand and don't try to different or he would kill him. Then he led him out to one side and had another man put the manacles on Smith. Then Tinsley told Smith, "I will do all I can to clear you, it is the thousand dollar reward I am after." He went to jail and came out in self-defense and was cleared and turned loose.

A deputy sheriff of Dalton in Whitfield Co. Georgia, Henry Holsten, and Thomas Nations, a cousin to these four brothers in the mob, went into Tenn. about twenty mile to Charley North's place. North happened to be a brother-in-law to Nute Nations, Dave, Bill, and Joe Nations. Seven of this bunch were sleeping in North's barn and taking meals at North's and stating they would not be taken by anybody; but these three men got into the bunch just before daybreak in the morning and got a man a piece out of seven. The other four made their get-away through a corn field. These three captives were chained together and marched back to Georgia afoot, and they were informed on the start that if a mob came to release them, they would make breast works out of the prisoners and take their chances with the mob.

I saw men on horse back running after they had reached Georgia, trying to stir a mob and these three crying to anybody they met, "Don't come with a mob, they will kill us first." They stopped at Uncle Billy Morgan's place and ordered dinner. While Holsten and the sheriff were at dinner Jane Morgan, an old maid, went out to the shade tree by the road to give Tom Nations a cussing out.

She said, "Tom Nations, aren't you ashamed of yourself to be guarding your own blood cousins to jail?"

Tom said, "No, all I am ashamed of is that I haven't got the others." These three were landed in the county jail at Dalton, but were released by some reckless swearing of alibis by their friends.

I met Brother Rudger Clawson at the dedication of the Mesa Temple the first time he left Holstens with his dead companion for Salt Lake City about ten o'clock in the night of July 22, 1879.

It surely was a treat to behold his face again and hear him talk. My oldest daughter was with me. He told us about a trip he had made to view that spring just forty years later.

He said Brother ----- (I have forgotten the name) and I got off the train at old Varnell Station. The town hasn't improved a bit and we went over to the post office and asked the postmaster if he ever heard of a Mormon Elder being killed in that part of the country. "Yes, that occurred over here at Mormon Spring."

"Can you tell us how to go to get there?"

"Yes, you go this way so far and that way so far, you will soon be there. It is only two miles." They lit out like two tramps and found to their surprise that someone had built a new barn there in the forty years and there was a family living there.

Brother Clawson said they went up and called on them and asked them if they had ever heard of a Mormon Elder being killed in this part of the country.

"Oh, yes, that happened out here at our spring."

"Can you tell us any of the particulars how it happened?" and he said they told a pretty fare story about it up to where the man that was with him folded his arms to be shot and they stopped. He said, "We waited a moment to see if they were coming any further and then I went on and told them they were talking to the man that folded his arms to be shot and finished telling them the story."

"Yes, any of the Mormon people are more than welcome to come and view this ground any time." he said. "We went on to Dalton and called on the county recorder to see the court documents on the trial of these three that were caught in Tenn. The recorder stepped around and brought the documents forth. He wanted this friend to see them. He said, "They even thought enough of us to come down to the train and bid us goodbye when we were leaving. It surely was a wonder how prejudices had vanished away in the forty years."

I will tell you of the last time I was at this spring and old house where Brother Standing was cruelly murdered. It was on Sunday evening, two weeks after his death. I had put a small flour sack in my pocket on leaving home to go to this place to get some apples to make pies to take to school. I lay in the mill pond, swimming most too late. It was after sundown when I was going up to this place. The wild hogs had rooted the ground, upside down all around where his blood was spilt, and as I was passing over this place a warm breeze hit me. It was the strongest smell of blood that I ever experienced. The old house stood open and hard and looked lonesome. The big owls went hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo. The whip o' will was talking in all directions. I got some apples, but wasn't much stuck on stopping very long. I surely can tell you, Mr. Reader, with all sincerity that I know that the blood of the martyred cried up from the ground. This was nearly two weeks after and extremely hot climate, naturally all blood would have been gone if even there had been no hogs.

We left our old home for middle Tennessee the 26th of August, 1879. Left crop of corn in the field, they would not buy it. I have never been back to Georgia since that time. Brother Mat went back in 1913, went to the old home and called. An old lady with glasses on came to the door. Mat asked if this was where Joe Kaneaster lived.

She said, "This is where he lived, but he is dead now. I am his wife."

Mat said, "I am one of his boys." This was his first introduction to his stepmother. Our mother died at Manassa, Colorado in spring, 1880.

Grandkids Visit

The five grandkids:


Erin's Family:


Dave's Family:

Returning Soliders

Ed was one of those Vietnam vets, who was almost afraid to come home because of the way the troops were treated back then by the gracious public the troops so willingly (ever heard of the draft?) sacrificed to serve. Our "all volunteer" military today's sacrifice is no less.

The following was written by a fellow HP moderator who served in Vietnam and is a college professor. It was too beautiful not to share:

A Simple Request

A few days ago, I caught a brief reference in the news to the return of a handful of Marines from Iraq, met by a small but vocal group of protesters. The incident brought back more than a few memories. I feel compelled to speak to my academic colleagues.

Sooner, perhaps, than we are ready, we may be faced with an issue Academia has not really faced in a generation, large numbers of young veterans enrolling in our classes, beginning new lives and new careers.

Having stood where they shall stand, I hope I can help you to understand what they shall face and how they will behave.

They shall face, as I did, professors who will inform them on the first day of class that they may as well drop out now because anyone too stupid to avoid military service is, obviously, too stupid to pass the course work. Many will respond by scoring 100% every test you give them, getting their A's not because you "give" them A's but because they "take" those A's by brute intellectual force, driving themselves with a self discipline few who have never served in a combat zone can imagine. These young people have worked fifty-and sixty-hour days in unbearable heat for months on end, performing exacting but mind numbing tasks upon which, literally, the lives of other people depend. They shall not be overwhelmed by your reading lists. Like all veterans, they know that the rest of their life is a gift.

They shall be called, as I was called, names like fascist, rapist, and baby killer--by both faculty and students alike, often in class and to their face. But they have had worse things thrown at them. They've been trained to stand their ground under fire. More importantly, they know the truth; they know that they built clinics and schools and gave first aid to children shot, burned, cut, and blown up by an enemy who indiscriminately destroys anyone who appears to be friendly to Americans—even small children. It is easy to sit here in America watching CBS or CNN, believing you "know" what all those young people are doing. I am often amused to see professors who regularly rant about the unreality of TV falling into the very foolishness they condemn.

They shall be used as pawns in games of political propaganda by professors trying to make political statements. But these young veterans have, unfortunately, been used on occasion by foolish and inept officers who see their own military "exploits" not as something contributing to national security, but as some kind of political currency to be traded later for votes. These young vets know an "A-hole" when they see one. They know how to protect themselves.

Be warned. Often they will be smarter than you—no, not better educated or more well read—but wiser, faster. Many of them are going to graduate with honors—magna cum laude, Phi Beta Kappa—and then they are coming after you, coming to take your job, where they know that someday they can make a difference in how this nation treats its young veterans.

I don't care how you feel about them; they don't care either. My simple request is that you treat them fairly. Give them the chance they have earned and the grades they deserve. Don't make them fight a second war against intolerance and bigotry here in their own country.

As for me, I will embrace them as comrades.

~~Bert

My Garden

I finally got around to taking some pictures of my garden again. I planted some new bulbs, and I'm really liking them. Next year I really need to get new bark down BEFORE everything grows.

This was the garden in April:



This is from the garden yesterday:

My friend Carole sent this, and I just had to share:


Recently, in large French city, a poster featuring a young, thin and tan woman appeared in the window of a gym. It said:

THIS SUMMER DO YOU WANT TO BE A MERMAID OR A WHALE?

A middle aged woman, whose physical characteristics did not match those of the woman on the poster, responded publicly to the question posed by the gym.

To Whom It May Concern:

Whales are always surrounded by friends (dolphins,sea lions,curious humans).. They have an active sex life, they get pregnant and have adorable baby whales. They have a wonderful time with dolphins stuffing themselves with shrimp. They play and swim in the seas, seeing wonderful places like Patagonia, the Barren Sea and the coral reefs of Polynesia. Whales are wonderful singers and have even recorded CDs. They are incredible creatures and virtually have no predators other than humans. They are loved, protected and admired by almost everyone in the world.

Mermaids don’t exist!! If they did exist, they would be lining up outside the offices of Argentinean psychoanalysts due to identity crisis. Fish or human? They don’t have a sex life because they kill men who get close to them not to mention how could they have sex? Therefore they don’t have kids either. Not to mention who wants to get close to a girl who smells like a fish store?

The choice is perfectly clear to me; I want to be a whale.

P.S. We are in an age when media puts into our heads the idea that only skinny people are beautiful, but I prefer to enjoy an ice cream with my kids, a good dinner with a man who makes me shiver and a coffee with my friends. With time we gain weight because we accumulate so much information and wisdom in our heads that when there is no more room it distributes out to the rest of our bodies. So we aren’t heavy, we are enormously cultured, educated and happy. Beginning today, when I look at my butt in the mirror I will think, ¨Good gosh, look how smart I am…¨

Half Blood Prince

Okay, I found a YouTube video done by HBO on Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, which comes out a week from tomorrow (have my tickets already).

Click here

All I can say is "SQUEEEEE!" It looks so good!

*takes a deep breath*

Okay, I'm trying not to get too excited about this for fear of being disappointed.


How am I doing?

Pics from the Dave & Doris King Family--Early Years

Here's my Mom, Dad,and David Jr. as a baby:


Don't you love Davey's little suit?


Here's little cowboy Davey:


This is Davey with his new little baby sister (me). My mom said he was unimpressed. I was an an RH baby, but it was some time before the doctors figured it out. Mom said I was the color of a yield sign when I came home from the hospital. Eventually I had to be completely transfused, and the doctors worried that I would be disabled mentally and physically--some would argue that I am ;)


Here's me in what I think must be my blessing dress:


Davey and me when I'm a little older--I wonder what the other guy looked like as that's quite the scrape on Davey's face:


Here's a little montage of David from school pictures. The one on the right looks like it was probably from when we were in the Philippines:


Me, a little older yet:


And a little older yet:


I don't have a lot of pictures of my younger sister, Darcy when she was very little. She's 8 years younger than I am. My folks decided not to have anymore children after they nearly lost me, but decided to give it a try. A little baby girl was delivered in September 1961, but she was stillborn because he umbilical cord strangled her. She is buried in South Korea.

My folks tried again right away, and Darcy was born on the 22nd of September in Sacramento. The doctors were all set and ready to do a transfusion, but it turns out that Darcy was RH negative like Mom!


Here's a picture of when she was getting ready for Kindergarten, when we lived in the Philippines:

More Old Pics

I found another old photo album that my mom must have put together early in my folk's marriage. I remember when she died (ripe old age of 41) my father spend hours upon hours going through 20 years of photos that they had accumulated. He told me how hard it was to remember people from that far back all by himself. I always promised myself that I wouldn't let that happen to me. Some of my albums aren't in the best order, but at least they are in albums.

Well, except for the duplicates. I hate to confess that I have a box full of pictures--most of which I think are duplicates. Ugh.

Anyway, here's a picture of my grandmother holding her twins (fraternal), Jim and Dave. They were her first children and they were 8 pounds apiece. There's eight years between the boys and Barbara.


Here are those same twins, years later when they joined the Navy--at the ripe old age of 17:


And here's Herb and Ella (their parents):


Here's another picture of Jim and Dave and I believe cousin Betty:

Matt Lewis - aka Neville Longbottom

Okay, I was recently made aware of a current picture of Matt Lewis, the actor who plays Neville Longbottom in the Harry Potter films. Wow, what a change over the years!


Here's Matt from the first HP movie, The Sorcerer's Stone.


And here's a more recent picture of him. Like I said--wow.

I think that probably of all the child actors in these films, Matt has changed the most. Of course, they make him look different by wearing some dreadful teeth.

It's funny because they should probably have been making Emma Watson (Hermione) wear some big teeth until Goblet of Fire, when in the book she was involved in a magical shoot out between Harry and Draco and ended up having to have her teeth magicked smaller.

Old Pictures 4

Here are some more old pictures I scanned and cleaned up:


This is my brother David and me in front of my Grama Hazel's outhouse on the Southern California desert. She and her hubby homesteaded out there.



Here's my only memory of having visited the Grand Canyon. My mom must have been taking the picture. Once again it's my dad, me, and my brother Dave.



This is a picture of my dad's mother and father (on the right), and my dad's sister, Barbara. I have no idea who the older lady is to the left.



Here's another picture of my Grampa Mahaffey when he was in the Cavalry during WWI. He died when I was very small, and I don't remember him at all. He was quite a bit older than Grama Hazel.

Hazel's the one on the right:


The beauty on the left is my Aunt Helen--oldest daughter to the two above:



Here's another military picture--a more modern one. This is my brother David in his Naval Academy uniform circa 1969-1970.

Holy Cow Update

Spencer will need to fly to Hawaii to interview, so obviously it's not a done deal that they are moving, but it looks really good. Erin says she is looking forward to living somewhere with a slower pace.

Okay, that makes me smile, because it's all relative. Yes, we are much faster paced here than in some places, but compared to very large metropolitan areas, we are seriously Podunk. My city has a population of about 92,000 people, but Erin's city is substantially smaller.

Well, the island of Kauai will be a great place for them, then, because in the 2000 census there were fewer than 60,000 people on the entire island. Of the islands we visited on our cruise last January, Kauai was my favorite.



Boy, it would just break my heart to have to go visit them. ROFL

Evidently if they make the move, Paul wants to go there, too. That will be interesting though because Paul refuses to fly--anywhere!