Random Comments

[Sandy Eggo]

I've watched SO many kids play various versions of ball, gymnastics, dance, cheer, etc and from time to time I see things that make my heart melt b/c I can tell that it's a defining moment or building block when a child feels pride and trust of themselves and feel valued as a team and respect from their coach.

Tonight watching my daughter's softball game, a field full of awkward tweens, I saw almost all of them throw back their shoulders and stand a little taller, smile a little wider or become more intent about the task at-hand...all because a coach or parent noticed their momentary contribution and loudly called out what a good call, eye, hit, run, catch, steal or even try it was. I looked at their faces and almost cried with the pride I saw there.

I've been "cursed" with perception and sensitivity. I get caught up and emotional because I just know that these are the good things that will help shape these young people.

Meanwhile, my kids are going to end up on Dr. Phill because their mom is always on the sideline all misty-eyed

[Moonglow]

pickled is good 2

[followsthewolf]

I've watched SO many kids play various versions of ball, gymnastics, dance, cheer, etc and from time to time I see things that make my heart melt b/c I can tell that it's a defining moment or building block when a child feels pride and trust of themselves and feel valued as a team and respect from their coach.

Tonight watching my daughter's softball game, a field full of awkward tweens, I saw almost all of them throw back their shoulders and stand a little taller, smile a little wider or become more intent about the task at-hand...all because a coach or parent noticed their momentary contribution and loudly called out what a good call, eye, hit, run, catch, steal or even try it was. I looked at their faces and almost cried with the pride I saw there.

I've been "cursed" with perception and sensitivity. I get caught up and emotional because I just know that these are the good things that will help shape these young people.

Meanwhile, my kids are going to end up on Dr. Phill because their mom is always on the sideline all misty-eyed

Hmmm. Same thing happens at all the games I attend. There's this older dude that has to walk away and blow his nose when stuff like that happens. (Dang. Gonna have to stop and get some more hankies on the way home.)

[Sandy Eggo]

I'm not surpeised that you'd understand, FTW

My son used to say, "Mom, I understand why you root for everybody on my team, but do you have to be so loud when you root for the other team too"

I can't help it. They're all kids and they should know they've done well.

My daughter doesn't seem to mind and I've seen her getting caught up and doing the same. Her expression is funny when she realizes she just clapped for someone she's competing against.

[~vxn~]

i found some mantis pix...

(still searching for any mating mantids i may have posted....)

http://sxyvxn.deviantart.com/art/Bee-Guts-97314231  mmm... bee guts

http://sxyvxn.deviantart.com/art/Lefty-the-one-armed-Mantis-1-39085215  lefty eating

http://sxyvxn.deviantart.com/art/Grasshopper-Mating-Season-63363589  hoppers mating to tide you over until i find the real action.

[LOsborne]

My son used to say, "Mom, I understand why you root for everybody on my team, but do you have to be so loud when you root for the other team too"

My daughter doesn't seem to mind and I've seen her getting caught up and doing the same.

Maybe this is a female attribute. Some years back I coached rec-league girls soccer. When the other team showed up a player or two short, I would pare my line-up down to match theirs. What's the fun of beating someone with a handicap? My kids were always supportive. In fact, once when the other team was real short and I had plenty, three of my kids put on different colored shirts and played for the opponents. They didn't really care about bragging rights -- they just wanted to play.

But the most rewarding moment of all came in my last year. The kids were sixteen thru eighteen, and this was the last year for most of them too. It was a play-off game and the score was real tight. One of the refs made a totally horrendous call, and awarded my team a penalty shot. None of the girls wanted to take it. When the ref got nasty, and threatened to forfeit us if we didn't kick the penalty, the best player on my team squared up to the ball, and kicked it gently into the opposing keeper's arms.

The kids wanted to win that one. But they wanted to win it fair. (They did, too.)

Those were wonderful days. Eight years after the last game I coached, I still see one of "my kids" on the street, and just glow when she hollers, "Hi, Coach!"

[Anne]

I don't know what is going on but now my 16 year old granddaughter lost a friend in a car crash a few days ago. His brother was driving and (thankfully) was not seriously injured. I don't know the details but it really upset my granddaughter. Brought back too many memories. Her mom said she was up all night shaking Tuesday night. The funeral was today and I hope she got through that ok. She talkes to her mom about things like this so I think she will work through it with her help.

[followsthewolf]

Maybe this is a female attribute. Some years back I coached rec-league girls soccer. When the other team showed up a player or two short, I would pare my line-up down to match theirs. What's the fun of beating someone with a handicap? My kids were always supportive. In fact, once when the other team was real short and I had plenty, three of my kids put on different colored shirts and played for the opponents. They didn't really care about bragging rights -- they just wanted to play.

But the most rewarding moment of all came in my last year. The kids were sixteen thru eighteen, and this was the last year for most of them too. It was a play-off game and the score was real tight. One of the refs made a totally horrendous call, and awarded my team a penalty shot. None of the girls wanted to take it. When the ref got nasty, and threatened to forfeit us if we didn't kick the penalty, the best player on my team squared up to the ball, and kicked it gently into the opposing keeper's arms.

The kids wanted to win that one. But they wanted to win it fair. (They did, too.)

Those were wonderful days. Eight years after the last game I coached, I still see one of "my kids" on the street, and just glow when she hollers, "Hi, Coach!"

Understand.

Coached junior high and high school football for 11 years.

Drove back to the area 2 weeks ago to check on some property I still own there, and stopped into a small corner restaurant for coffee.
The waitress and cook were former students, and the next guy that walked in looked at me and said "Hi, coach."

Dang hankies.

[Sandy Eggo]

I'm watching a program about Appalachia and it's making me homesick.

[Palehorse]

i found some mantis pix...

(still searching for any mating mantids i may have posted....)

http://sxyvxn.deviantart.com/art/Bee-Guts-97314231  mmm... bee guts

http://sxyvxn.deviantart.com/art/Lefty-the-one-armed-Mantis-1-39085215  lefty eating

http://sxyvxn.deviantart.com/art/Grasshopper-Mating-Season-63363589  hoppers mating to tide you over until i find the real action.

Those r just 2  VXN!  Thanks for sharing!

[Sandy Eggo]

Still watching this program and it's causing me to want to do more research about my family.

My great great grandmother was Native American. I grew up with my great grandmother and she said that she couldn't tell me which tribe. I was always fascinated and curious. She had told me that it was a small tribe and not one of the larger tribes like the Cherokee. I didn't realize that the Cherokee were basically settled in the Appalacians in the 1700s. Supposedly, her mother married a Scotch Irishman and was shunned from the family as a result. At another point, my great grandmother said that her mom was tired of the hard life of living with the tribe and opted to move away with her husband.

Although, the timeline doesn't fit because my great grandmother was born in 1896 and guessing that perhaps her mother had been born 20 years or so prior, then that would still be the late 1800's and removal of the Cherokee had started long before that.

I just want it to be so because I just found out that the women of the tribe held the power (pre-European invasion) . That would explain why I was born roarin' It's genetic

A fond memory from my childhood - we used to play cowboys and indians and I was always the indian, but my male neighbors and cousins said that I couldn't be chief because women weren't chiefs. Mom (my greatgrandmother) gathered feathers from the different birds on the farm and made me a headdress so that I could be chief.

[Sandy Eggo]

This is a good series on PBS if you are interested and ever want to watch it. Now I'm learning about the plight of the mine workers in WV and KY . My new hero Mother Jones:

The elderly woman smoothed her black dress and touched the lace at her throat and wrists. Her snow-white hair was gathered into a knot at the nape of her neck, and a black hat, trimmed with lavender ribbons to lend a touch of color, shaded her finely wrinkled face. She was about five feet tall, but she exuded energy and enthusiasm. As she waited to speak, her bright blue eyes scanned the people grouped beyond the platform. Her kindly expression never altered as her voice broke over the audience: "I'm not a humanitarian," she exclaimed. "I'm a hell-raiser."

http://www.kentlaw.edu/ilhs/majones.htm

http://www.aflcio.org/aboutus/history/history/jones.cfm

[Moonglow]

Still watching this program and it's causing me to want to do more research about my family.

My great great grandmother was Native American. I grew up with my great grandmother and she said that she couldn't tell me which tribe. I was always fascinated and curious. She had told me that it was a small tribe and not one of the larger tribes like the Cherokee. I didn't realize that the Cherokee were basically settled in the Appalacians in the 1700s. Supposedly, her mother married a Scotch Irishman and was shunned from the family as a result. At another point, my great grandmother said that her mom was tired of the hard life of living with the tribe and opted to move away with her husband.

Although, the timeline doesn't fit because my great grandmother was born in 1896 and guessing that perhaps her mother had been born 20 years or so prior, then that would still be the late 1800's and removal of the Cherokee had started long before that.

I just want it to be so because I just found out that the women of the tribe held the power (pre-European invasion) . That would explain why I was born roarin' It's genetic

A fond memory from my childhood - we used to play cowboys and indians and I was always the indian, but my male neighbors and cousins said that I couldn't be chief because women weren't chiefs. Mom (my greatgrandmother) gathered feathers from the different birds on the farm and made me a headdress so that I could be chief.

And then they killed u.

[Palehorse]

Still watching this program and it's causing me to want to do more research about my family.

My great great grandmother was Native American. I grew up with my great grandmother and she said that she couldn't tell me which tribe. I was always fascinated and curious. She had told me that it was a small tribe and not one of the larger tribes like the Cherokee. I didn't realize that the Cherokee were basically settled in the Appalacians in the 1700s. Supposedly, her mother married a Scotch Irishman and was shunned from the family as a result. At another point, my great grandmother said that her mom was tired of the hard life of living with the tribe and opted to move away with her husband.

Although, the timeline doesn't fit because my great grandmother was born in 1896 and guessing that perhaps her mother had been born 20 years or so prior, then that would still be the late 1800's and removal of the Cherokee had started long before that.

I just want it to be so because I just found out that the women of the tribe held the power (pre-European invasion) . That would explain why I was born roarin' It's genetic

A fond memory from my childhood - we used to play cowboys and indians and I was always the indian, but my male neighbors and cousins said that I couldn't be chief because women weren't chiefs. Mom (my greatgrandmother) gathered feathers from the different birds on the farm and made me a headdress so that I could be chief.

Dad and his mother were full blooded Cherokee, my mother was 1/8 Cherokee and Dutch Scot made up the rest. I've been told that I can obtain government endorsement of my heritage, but that's not what this is about anyway.

Dad had a life long Friend, Richard Perry, who was also half blooded Cherokee half Ojibwa. His great grandfather lived in Wisconsin and was full blooded Ojibwa. Dad and Perry took me with them anytime I was out of school, and so I got to meet the great grandfather many times.

After dad died (Perry had gone before him by several years) I came into possession of Perry's old Johnson outboard motor, which I took along on my next trip with some very close friends to fish walleye, perch, and musky up that way. The second morning there the wind was howling out of the north and the lakes were really white capping. We all agreed we should find something else to do, so since they all wanted to go back to bed, I decided to try to find old George. I'd been to his shack a dozen or more times as a lad,  so I had a pretty good idea where he was.

An hour later I rolled up on his shack and since smoke was coming out of the stovepipe I knew someone was in there. I knocked on the door and in a few minutes he was standing before me, bright eyed and sharp as a tack. And he knew who I was right off. He served me a nice stew along with some fried bread, and we washed it all down with iced tea. (Unsweetened, just the way I like it). After we were through eating and catching up, he asked me why I was here. I told him that since the rest of our little crew had already crossed over, I thought it would be nice if he could join me in my boat the next morning; for a day of walleye, perch, and maybe musky fishing.

He was standing right outside my door at 0400 waiting on me. (He had to be in his 90's). I told him I was going to come pick him up, but he said he had a friend drop him off here, that way we could get onto the water before the sunrise, which we did.
I had the Johnson strapped onto the boat, and his eyes went right to it as he climbed aboard. He just nodded his head and said lets get going. The other guys were off to run our "milk run", but George and I had another plan in mind. George had been fishing these waters his whole life and so he knew a lot more about it than the rest of us combined.

This could go on for awhile so I'll try to shorten it up a bit. George and I caught our limit of perch and walleye by mid morning, and so we spent a large portion of our afternoon hunting muskies. George had one on that appeared to be in the 70 inch class, but he lost him when he wrapped around a sunken sump in the weeds. I also lost on that was just slightly smaller, when the drag burnt out on my reel and he just ran the spool dry on me and snapped that 40 pound test loud enough to sound like a rifle shot. We both laid down in the bottom of the boat laughing like little girls after that one.

We were both hungry, so we beached the boat under a stand of really tall pines, while George got the fire started, I began putting the fillet knife to work on a couple of the perch and walleye we had caught. George started piling the carcasses under a tree about 10 feet away fro our cook site. I told him it could draw bears, but he said, "No, those great birds over there want us to pay them tribute". As I was taking the last fillet out of the pan he said, "Here they come".

Two adult Bald Eagles coming straight for us. They lighted in the tree momentarily, then came to ground to feast on the remains George had placed there. So we pretty much ate with them. Once George was done he tossed a rather large side of walleye toward them, and it brought them to within 5 feet of us. It was amazing to see.

The birds were molting a bit too, and both had left some really nice specimens of Eagle feathers on the ground in front of us. George asked me to gather these up for him, which I did, and he placed them into his bag.

We arrived back at the cabin to discover the rest of my party had experienced a rather disappointing day, barely catching enough for a meal. George tossed our stringers over the side of the boat and told them thatif they could clean them they could eat them. They did just that as I loaded George and his equipment into the truck to take him home. As I was taking the engine off the boat he asked me why I was doing that. I told him it rightfully belonged to him since it was his great grandson's. No. . . it is yours. I am too old to fool with such things.

I dropped him off and he made me promise to stop back by on my way back home. That he would have something for me to take home with me.Saturday came and the guys bitched about having to swing up toward Hayward, but I told them I had promised him and that was that.

As we pulled up front he waved us all into his shack. He'd had some of the younger women come in and fix us this massive breakfast. As we were eating George began educating us on the meaning of the indian head-dress, and how each feather within it signifies an action undertaken by the wearer that served the tribe ahead of himself. How it was a great honor to receive one from your people, and told us how his grandfather's grandfather had received his. He said most started as a young man, when he made his first significant kill that served to feed several families. Some of the feathers came from wars as well, but that the most valued ones had nothing but eagle feathers in them, black with white tips. For these were worn by those who had achieved greatness, not in war, but in protecting the people, the land, the crops, and most importantly the elders. These men were greatly admired because everything they did was for the good of the tribe.

Then he went into the back room and brought out his own, resplendent in eagle feathers, it fell halfway down his back. Then he came out with another one, that contained only black feathers with white tips. While not quite as long as his, it was a sight to behold. Then he walked around in back of me and placed it upon my head.

I told him I was not fit to wear such a sacred head dress, but he refused to listen. He said that my trips up here with his Grandson and my own Father had brought him many years of great joy. That my obvious willingness to learn and be taught were of great comfort to him. And when I showed up at his door and asked him to go fishing with me, he knew right then that I should be honored by his people for my actions. . .

I told him that since I am not a card carrying member of any tribe I could not be in possession of such an honorable piece of work, since it was made of eagle feathers. He said he understood, but that it was mine and it would be left to me in his will.

A year later a member of the Ojibwa tribe called me and said that they were in town to deliver a message to me from George. The man came to my door with a box in his had, and said that there was paperwork inside that I needed to keep safe. That head dress was in the box, along with a notarized statement from the Chiefs of the Ojibwa nation that stated this head dress was presented to me with the hope I would accept their invitation to join the tribe. George had crossed over and in any case the head dress was mine to keep; legally.

It now sits inside a glass case on the mantle of the fireplace in my late grandfather's home. I spent some time with it last week, and even put it on for a few minutes. If everything goes right it will be coming home with me sometime this year.

If so, I'll snap a picture of me in it for your amusement. But every time I have had it on I can tell you amusement is the furthest thing from my mind. It's the symbology and history, and traditions it represents that hit me like a Mack Truck. And the feeling I am not worthy. . .

[Moonglow]

Dad and his mother were full blooded Cherokee, my mother was 1/8 Cherokee and Dutch Scot made up the rest. I've been told that I can obtain government endorsement of my heritage, but that's not what this is about anyway.
Only if u can provide original birth certs of all decendants of those on the Dawes roles