This is my reply to Ad Crucem News's article "Alienated Lutheran Young Adults. What does this mean?"

Original article here:  https://www.adcrucem.news/p/alienated-lutheran-young-adults-what 

I have care of my father who has something like Alzheimers/demenita/needs counseling and won't go.  I have a house to keep running with a husband who works a very needy job. So I am late to every game.  

I am a life-long LCMSer, and I am Gen X.  Jon said what I said when I was in high school and college (1989-1998).  I remember being told by my parents' generation that I was incapable of understanding the liturgy after I had an entire religion class on it when I was 7 -- the real liturgy, the historic, goes back milennia liturgy.  We were supposed to fall all over the Pass it On song book, which we all hated.  When I was in high school I had to work (my mom was a single mother and I had to help pay bills).  When I went to college, I commuted because I couldn't afford to go away to college.   I had two responses to working Sundays: I was supposed to find a real job where I didn't have to work Sundays; and well, you're supposed to be gone because you're in college, so we don't treat you like we do "real" college students because it's your choice to work.  In college I found a retail job that paid better than the nursing home kitchen, and yes, there were a lot of church crowds who went out to eat every Sunday.  I know because I served them.  I knew when each church in town let out.

When I went to the Voter's Meetings because they wanted young people there, I was given complicated instructions that I had to go to multiple meetings to actually be able to be accepted as a voter.  It was in violation of the church constitution, I learned later.  When people (my parents' generation) in the meetings talked about the youth, I would speak up and I was told I wasn't normal youth and had nothing constructive to say.  (Ask my pastor, who I went to grade school with, he will tell you the same story as will other of my classmates).  

Then came the day I went from being "too young" to know anything, to "you're too old and out of touch with the youth."  I had one kid and was in my 20s.  So I turned to online Lutheran fora to find Lutheran friends (I don't dare write forums to this day), and I found out quickly that whether it was my home church (where I spent 32 years of my life) or the internet, these truths still held:

~I was out of touch with the youth

~It was my choice to break the 3rd commandment with work.

~No matter what I thought I knew about Lutheranism, I was wrong and not a real Lutheran

~Online, I was supposed to know every pastor who never used titles and I was being disrespectful when I had no way of knowing who was a pastor and who wasn't.  

So I went away from online and kept a low profile in my church, until the days came when it became personal.   When my husband was warned by his boss that there had been a call from someone in the church threatening his job if I didn't stop going to voter's meetings, our kids were in the school.  At the same time, my mom was threatened by one of the church members with IRS audits for the rest of her life if she didn't quit asking why the balance sheets didn't add up.  (He worked for the IRS.)   Then they retired the senior pastor and brought in an interim who exibited multiple signs of demonic possession.

We left and went to my grandparents' church the next town over.  There things were better, until it was always the older generation running things.  But I will say this about the church I'm still at.  We had a rough go for a while, but younger families are finally coming and the older generation is letting them in.

But if you're Gen X, don't think that generational name is unintentional.  It was designed to destroy an entire Generation, whether in the political world or religious world.  We don't exist and never did, and that's when this destruction began.

   

Difficult thoughts on a doubly difficult day...

 I have a lot of thoughts going, but it's hard to write them down.  On top of everything else, it's the 24th anniversary of 9-11, which I will never forget.

~I remember the threats when I was getting married to a local cop and some local idiot threatened to shoot up the wedding reception.  

~I remember all the people over the years who drove past my house to get to court because I live on the main drag between that city and the court.   There is a lot of "by the grace of God" that those people didn't realize where the house was, or chose not to mess with it.  

~I remember the night my husband almost didn't come home because of a crazy person, who was not right when we were kids.  (So much more to that story.) "By the grace of God..."

~I remember 2020 when my husband was on mobile field force and gone all summer.  Remember?  When school supplies and seeds were illegal to purchase, and don't go camping or to your self-owned cabin ---- but please feel free to go protest all you want because it's your civic duty.  And don't forget to write down and report any of your neighbors to the police who aren't doing what you think they ought.  

Then call the police liars when those who witnessed the pallets of bricks and other events at the protests talk, because the media said otherwise.  One of my local firefighters called my husband a liar to my face over the pallets of bricks.  That firefighter was one of the first to hole up and not leave the house in 2020, when my husband had to keep working through the hell that was going on.  There is a reason I no longer vote for millages for my local fire department.  (It's volunteer, so my house will burn down anyway before they arrive.) 

There are so many more things I want to write and I cannot.  I'm not allowed to.  I'm not sure it would matter, because like that firefighter, if one's mind is made up, no amount of proof  will change it.  Anything I say is just wasted words.

But I'm already seeing and hearing something horrible.  We have had a lot of politicians and political people shot and killed this year.  This newest assassination is no less or more horrible than any of the rest.  Why is it to remember one is to imply that everyone else is forgotten?  

So I'm going to mention a few truly forgotten individuals, people who never got national recognition for their deaths.  You'll have to look them up yourself and figure out why I don't forget.  And no, none of it makes sense at all.  Tragedy doesn't make sense, even when you look through the lens of the cross.  I can't make anyone do that.  

Jessica Nagle-Wilson

Mark Sawyers

Aaron Ureel

Something Humorous...

 I wrote this 4 years ago, making fun of a typical situation one might find in any job.  Enjoy.  I still think it is some of my best work.

January 4, 2021

MEMO

RE: Punctuation Misuse by all employees.....

This is an extremely simplified explanation as there have been way too many people misusing punctuation... I can't believe I have to explain this, What are we, in the 3rd grade?  

There should only be one point at the end of the sentence... unless you are combining it with a second sentence to create a linear thought, at which point you use 3 points (...) to combine the sentence into a multiple thought. When you are extremely annoyed.... four points should be used.... to join the sentences in order to stress your point and make everyone understand it is getting important. In the event it is an extremely important point..... or very annoying to the person writing the memo..... then 5 points must be used. You cannot use 5 points to make a linear thought... you must use 3.  At no time can 5 points be used to join two sentences..... unless I'm getting ready to yell at you. And I am yelling..... knock it off!!!!!!

Obviously you were all sleeping in english class when punctuation was discussed.... what is this world coming to??? Apparently none of you pay attention either... since I am now writing this Memo after I spent all my time on the last one!

I hope that I will not have to yell about the misuse of exclamation points next!!!!!!

 

The Patent 469199 Machine name list

 Because of the interest in my little write up about The Patent 469199 Machine (Needlebar classification National Seamstress class), I decided to collect the names I know of this machine being called.  It seems to have been a popular badge machine, a machine sold in batches with the purchaser's desired name on it.  

As I find memorabilia or names are sent to me, I'll add them here.  This is a call out to the sewing machine community, because without everyone's help this kind of information can't be collected.

Known Patent 469199 Machine names

Arlington

Burlington Hawkeye

Germania (name of many German language newspapers in USA)

New England Queen 

Pokrok Zapadu (Czech language newspaper in USA)

Seamstress

Seebote (German language newspaper in Milwaukee, Wisconsin)

Texas Advocate

Possible:  Courier Journal (an ad resembles this machine but none have showed up in person)

Serial numbers:  Both 5 digit and 6 digit numbers have shown up.  My Germania is SN 33,255.  The Pokrok Zapadu was in the 500,000s.  There is no idea of how long these machines were made, or if they were their own separate serial number list. 

Thank you to:  Marion, Robyn, Laura, Damascus Annie, John, Judy (aka dvrtiska from ISMACS)

PS -- if anyone knows what happened to Judy aka dvrtiska, I'd like to know.  She sent me the below scans from Pokrok Zapadu newspaper Nov 3, 1897.  It matched her family machine, which I helped her ID as The Patent 469199 Machine.

The Patent 469199 Machine (National Seamstress model)

The Patent 469199 Machine aka National Seamstress model

 Every once in a while a machine shows up that convinces everyone it is a New Home. I don’t know how many times I have heard “only New Home had a machine that looked like that.” As long as I live I will call the “impostor” out.

My relationship with The Patent 469199 Machine began January 9, 2009 when the late Katie Farmer sent Marion Kish (then Mikula) and me this email:

I am forwarding this e-mail from Robyn on to you.

The machine & cabinet are gorgeous (!), but White

never made a leaf tension machine to my knowledge.

Can you please let Robyn know if it is a badged New Home?

Thank you!

Katie Farmer

 

Robyn had sent Katie an email about a badged machine that looked like a New Home called the Texas Advocate that didn’t seem to fit any of the known series of New Home. (New Home referred to their machines as “series” not “model”.) Someone suggested to her it looked more like a Minnesota B, so she contacted Katie. Katie contacted us, and a long run of emails began. My first thought was it was a New Home, but when Robyn shared the serial number in the 500,000s, something seemed wrong. Then Marion popped in and said she also thought it was a New Home, but could we get more pictures. After more pictures, Marion said, “Wait a minute, it looks like a machine I have that I thought was a New Home but I’m not so sure.” Hers was called Arlington.

Marion emailed me pictures and we spent several hours on the phone discussion ad nauseum discussing this machine. Then I pulled Damascus Annie in who researched National. She was (and probably still is) an absolute whiz with National. She had been convinced that these machines were New Home, but after I was done with my method of sewing machine identification, she was convinced it could more likely be a National.

This machine would show up in many incarnations: Texas Advocate, Arlington, Pokrok Zapadu (Czech newspaper in USA), New England Queen in a Morley Bros treadle stand (Standish, MI), Germania (name of multiple German newspapers in USA), Burlington Hawkeye, Seebote, and Seamstress, just to name a few that I have run across.

Many more emails, a few years later on November 22, 2013 I was told “a lot of collectors decided that this machine cannot be a National.” This after I found the patent for the machine, patent 469,199 awarded to Willis S Brown, with witnesses David Patton and B. Eldredge. If you do not know who these men were, let me explain. Willis S. Brown was Superintendent of National SMCo; David Patton was secretary of National SMCo; and Barnabas Eldredge was none other than the president and interesting personage of National SMCo.

(More about these men here: https://books.google.com/books?id=YBcVAAAAYAAJ&pg=PA31&dq=national+sewing+machine&hl=en&newbks=1&newbks_redir=0&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjLtIX159iLAxXXRzABHWs2O_YQ6AF6BAgKEAM#v=onepage&q=national%20sewing%20machine&f=false

 At that point, in a moment of frustration, and yes, anger, I began referring to these machines as “The Patent 469199 Machine.”

 I was given one of these machines on October 28, 2012. Mine is a Germania. It sews like a champ and is a machine I quite enjoy. They seem to be good little machines, even if they do try to look way too much like a New Home.

Following is my guide to differentiation between a real New Home and the “impostor” National machine. For this I used a 1923 New Home A and my Germania.  I used the New Home A because that seems to be the machine The Patent 469199 Machine is most commonly confused with.  (I used to have an 1895 New Home that I gave to a really nice ISMACS member, but the 1923 does a really good job showing how similar these machines are.)

Exhibit A -- Two identical machines that... aren't.

The Impostor Germania is on the left, the New Home is on the right.  (Hey, I've seen people miss the name on the arm before!)  First differences, look at the top tension bar.  New Home has a different lever on theirs.  The bobbin winder is in a similar but different place, but I'll talk about those differences later.

Note the tension bars top view.  I marked the differences and think they are pretty self explanatory. 

The Patent 469199 Machine has a bend upward in it which doesn't show up in this picture; New Home is flat, flat, flat (like the world!  just kidding.)

Handwheel comparison:

Look at the center of the wheel with the clutch knob and the design in the wheel.  The Germania has the clutch in the middle like a Singer; New Home As have the little knob offset from the center.

Rear view -- yup identical... oh wait -- look at that lever for the presser foot, the screw above it, and the knob for the pressure foot tension.  I think this picture proves that National was up to no good with this machine.    

Now for the real fun, in case you thought I was wrong....  The New Home has a machine latch to hold it in the bed; The Patent 469199 Machine does not.  That alone is hardly proof, so by number:

1 -- The New Home has a rounded spring, a rounded plate with 1 screw to support the flat bar; The Patent 469199 Machine has a square plate with 2 screws, no spring, and the corresponding bar is round.

2- -- The stitch length bar.  Besides the fact the end of the New Home stitch length bar end is rounded and The Patent 469199 Machine is squared, New Home used a squared support piece with a screw compared to the rounded connector of The Patent 469199 Machine.  

3 -- If I have to explain this.... I have no words.  This is the definitive point of difference between the New Home and The Patent 469199 Machine

4 --- Sorry, it was late at night on another busy night so I mislabeled #4 as 5.  But I will point out that there are so many other little differences -- have fun finding them.

5 -- Note the difference in the pivot for the arms.  Oh, and on The Patent 469199 Machine note the diamond shape by the shuttle carrier.

And if for some reason you aren't convinced at this point.... The New Home has cast into it New Home SMCO Orange Mass.

Next up, the faceplates.  Pretty self explanatory, I think.  The arrows point to the difference in needlebars -- New Home is flat, The Patent 469199 Machine is round.  The thread take up levers are in two different places.  The needle clamps are totally different.  And if you aren't sure, the New Home (right) is slightly smaller than The Patent 469199 Machine.  This picture does a good job of showing the size difference.

Now for the bobbin winders.  I was going to mark this one up, but it's so hard to.  Note the arm difference behind the thread guide; New Home is flat, The Patent 469199 Machine is curved.  The thread guide arm is different, though I will concede that The Patent 469199 Machine winder highly resembles the old style New Home arm winder.  However, note the case around the cam wheel on The Patent 469199 Machine, and the lack of one on the New Home.  

Once final glaring difference:  the serial numbers.  New Home did not put their serial numbers under the slide plate until Free became involved.  Let me repeat that: New Home *did not* put their serial numbers under the slide plate until Free got involved.  (New Home serial numbers are a topic for another day, and a topic that gets my goat as well.)  National was well-known for putting their serial numbers under the plate.  Another later point of difference is the release button for the shuttle, but not all New Home As have that.   This one happens to.

 

I hope this helps explain the differences between the New Home and The Patent 469199 Machine.

And yes, I still love my New Homes... but I am fond of my Germania as well, even if it does try to look like something it isn't!

Edit:  Forgot to mention... The Patent 469199 Machine has a National shuttle.  New Home shuttles don't fit.  

Injustice

 People wonder sometimes if I really mean what I say about injustice in Michigan.  Michigan is the land of injustice.  Criminals walk away free, allowed to continue with their crimes.  Today was set a precedent that it was acceptable for a police chief to ADMIT he misused the law enforcement information network (LEIN) on someone he didn't know, without a valid reason.  Before today, people were FIRED for looking their own family members up, which is also improper LEIN use.  But today a jury decided it is perfectly acceptable.

To say I'm sick is an understatement.

So let me talk about injustice in Michigan.  Here's what it looks like:

Aaron was a classmate of mine in high school.  He had an absolutely amazing ability to imitate SNL, and some of my fondest memories of high school are of sitting next to him in math class on Monday mornings as he relived the best skits.  Somehow I always ended up in math class with him and ended up sitting next to him despite assigned seats.  At the time of his death he was working on some pop art/comic/ mix of crazy.  I found it after his death, and it took me back to high school math class.  Once in a while I still go look at it at Internet Archive, just to remember his unique sense of humor...

Lots of stories later, graduation, then I remember the last time I saw him at the grocery store in Richmond, ca 1997.  Fast forward to 2006, and a mutual friend from high school (best man at my wedding), who had NO idea Aaron and I had been friends in high school, said that he'd mentioned  my name to Aaron.  By then I had a husband and two kids who kept me busy, but I finally was able to type an email to him as our mutual friend's wedding came closer.  Aaron was supposed to be best man.

The morning I wrote my email, Aaron was sitting at a traffic light, waiting for it to turn so he could turn left and go to work.  A 17 year old kid, who was on drugs and drunk, on a suspended license, drove into his car at over 70 MPH.  Aaron's car started on fire.....  Look it up.  The article is still online.

The kid who did that, whose dad was in for dealing meth at the time, got 4 years of schooling on the state dime, and got to walk away. 

I still miss my friend.

EDIT 8/16/2024:  Looking up the person responsible today, I discovered he died suddenly on July 16, 2024 at the age of 34, leaving 6 children.  Every so often I used to check and see if he was out or in jail.   I don't need to anymore.

I'm a (Sheaffer) girl...

 Anyone else remember the song Barbie Girl by Aqua?  (There I go, dating myself.)  I can't stand the song.  That's what makes it so funny it's in my head right now.

Anyone remember Sheaffer Pen Company of Fort Madison, Iowa?

I'm a Sheaffer girl... in a Sheaffer world.....

My first fountain pen was a Sheaffer No Nonsense, bought at M&R Drugs.  I still remember that day.  I was 12, it was 1987, and I still don't know why I knew what a fountain pen was or why I wanted one.  I had a choice of two -- red or green translucent, and I chose red.  I also remember there being jars of ink, but I didn't bring one home.  Wish I had, now.

That pen didn't survive the move to Richmond 4 years later.  I'm not sure why.   Neither did my two No Nonsense ballpoints, pale yellow and the Christmas one.   But by then, I had gotten a Parker Vector calligraphy set from Arbor Drugs.  Those were the days when little towns had real drug stores where all sorts of things could be purchased without needing to travel to large centers.  

In 1996, I  remember drooling over the ads for the Christmas pen Sheaffer put out.  That was way too expensive for my pocketbook at that point.  And then..... nothing.  No more pen ads.  I was in college and busy and no longer came across fountain pens anywhere.

When my grandpa died in 2012, I had a little break from the dying people in my family.  I started writing again and listening to music, and memories of the fountain pen came back to me.  For fun I started looking them up just to see if they still existed, and I found that there was a world beyond my dreams... 

Not long after I rediscovered there were still fountain pens, I found a pen that reminded me of that first red one.  But the memories of the first one haunted me... but what was it?  A lot of leg work and hours and I found something similar thanks to PenHero.  I was sure that the picture he had up wasn't quite right for what I remembered.  However, it gave me a place to start and I haunted used pens until I found it.....

Exactly as I remembered.  It even had a dried cartridge of Sheaffer Jet Black in it.

And then the rabbit hole appeared, as everyone knows in the sewing machine world.  At least these are smaller than sewing machines.  I am NOT trying to collect all the colors.  (I am NOT going to collect all the colors....I am not going to.... oh, that Bicentennial No Nonsense looks cool... )  Some of those have fine nibs, which I had no idea they came with.  And the blue one is the latest variant of the No Nonsense, meaning ca 2000.  That one has an italic nib.

I just recently added the two ballpoints, in memory of the Christmas ballpoint No Nonsense and the pale yellow one I wish I still had (it had the lanyard, not the clip.)

This is my whole Sheaffer family of pens.  

Top Row, L to R:  2 Sheaffer Imperial II Deluxe, Sheaffer 440, Sheaffer Stylist 444, Sheaffer Craftsman (non-working but cool), Sheaffer Vailiant Touchdown, Sheaffer Cartridge pen early 1960s.  

Bottom Row: 9 No Nonsense fountain pens, 2 No Nonsense ballpoints, and the rest are Sheaffer cartridge pens (aka unofficially "school" pens).  

 

The red and black No Nonsense pens belong to this kit:

Parker makes good pens, and I'm very fond of my Edisons .... but I keep coming back to my Sheaffers.

House drama, part 2 -- success

 My life lately seems to feel like it is one failure after another, which is anything but the truth.  Life can be like that.  One is on a beautiful road, but you only see the potholes which threaten to eat your tires.

That said, it has been long enough I can post about this success.  I'm going right to the best picture first:

Look at that!!!  I don't think it has ever looked that nice, not in the 23+ years I have lived here.  It was a process.  For anyone who comes across this and wants to know what I did, here are the gory details:

Mix peroxide and baking soda into a paste.  I wish I had learned this years ago.  It works well to take iron off of tile and tub.  You just use your hand and fingers to rub it.  No other tools necessary, and it washes off with water.  I will say, after a while you have to just walk away.  I don't know if the peroxide continues to work or if the brain holds the old memory.  When I think it doesn't look like it's working, I walk away for an hour and come back.  Peroxide and baking soda got me to this point below.  Did I mention that there was no finish left on the tub in places?

So I slept on it.  Something triggered in my memory, and I mixed up some iron out and made my own spray.  If you do that, WAIT to put in in the spray bottle until it is done foaming.  I killed a spray bottle by not waiting.  Another word of warning here: DO NOT MIX ANYTHING WITH IRON OUT.  I sprayed and walked away a few times.  

Once that was finished, then it was time for Porc-a-fix.  If one is a perfectionist, trying to match color is the difficult step.  I didn't care enough to try harder, because seriously, a 1976 bathtub is going to be hard to match.  I suppose had I really wanted to get creative, I could have picked another color and made polka dots.   Husband and I tag-teamed the patching.  He'd see a spot I missed.  I found one he missed.  I decided that since there was no finish at all around the drain I was just going to paint it like crazy.  

After the Porc-a-fix was set, then we used a tile and grout sealer (smallest bottle I could get from Home Depot) to seal it.  Bill did that part.  Two coats, and water actually *beads* now.  That has never happened in 23 years.  

It's not a new bathroom, but it sure looks better.  I hope this inspires someone.
   

Growing up in Richmond

 I have been going through my mom's things, cleaning things out because my dad can't and won't try.  While going through some of the stuff that miraculously survived my half sister and her two -- ahem! -- kids, I have found a treasure trove of high school memorabilia from my mom's times at RHS from 1962-1965.  The class prophesy, which has my mom 10 years later married to Alfred E. Newman and working like MAD on their March edition.  You know, the good stuff.  Like her pins, the GAA letter and certificate, and reading all the stuff people wrote in her yearbook.

Is this the point where I mention that only ONE of her classmates finally commented on her death on "Memories of Growing up in Richmond Michigan" facebook page?  And only after I posted through my mom's account in the thread discussing the members of 1965 who had died.

Yup.  Good Old Richmond, Michigan.  You can spend your whole life there, and generations of your family as well, and, "Who are you?"

As Emily Dickenson put it so eloquently, in what I call "The RHS poem":

I'm Nobody, who are you? 

Are you -- Nobody -- too? 

Then there's a pair of us -- don't tell! 

They'd banish us, you know.

Here's a picture of nobody.  My mom is in the last row, second from far right

House Drama for a change

 So, for the couple of people who might actually check this out... I know it's been a while.   More drama than I'm ready to discuss.  (TLDR, my mom died, battle and court case with their adopted grandkids with State of Michigan, dealing with Dad who has dementia, and Mom did everything until she literally dropped dead walking into the house.)

Back to the house of a thousand stories.....

The biggest gripe I have had over the years are the people who say, always with that snide tone, "Oh, it's so nice your husband makes enough money so you don't need to work."

Well, they say a picture is worth a thousand words.  Here are two thousand:

This, dear reader, is our bathtub.  Original to the house, I might add, so from 1976.  Yes, I have been working on the iron stains (there is no finish left in part of the tub), but if you look closer you will see the chips in the porcelain.  I spared you several others.  We have patched some of them for years.  This poor beast isn't getting better with age, but replacement isn't in the near future.

There is white tile around the tub (of course, with all the iron in the water) which I'm also working on.  I'm trying to get the tile clean so we can actually seal it.  😏

In case you wondered, the floor in the bathroom is peel-and-stick tile.  When we had to redo it a few years ago, we found remains of the burgundy carpeting that was original.  Did I mention our house was built in 1976?

This is how we have made it on his salary for so long.  Cheap furniture.  I've re-upholstered, used sheets for furniture covers, and mended and patched until I am sick of doing so.  We still have original carpet in the house, too.   I had to fight for insulation and got it when I proved the wind was blowing through the house.

And now I'm learning how to try to save a dead bathtub.  

Useful hint, which I wish someone had told me about sooner -- making a paste with baking soda and peroxide is the best iron remover.  Unfortunately, the finish was already off the tub when we bought the house.

The Stupid Things I Save...

While clearing out some files tonight, I found this. I forgot I wrote it, much less saved it. I never received a reply. Of course not. Those who write about "rural" issues and live in large cities prefer to not discuss matters with those who live "in ground zero," if you will pardon the phrase.

Three years have gone by.  I have only one correction to make.  We are now "Detroit" up in Macomb County, and medical marijuana is what is driving up the housing market.  Those from the city are buying up housing and setting LARGE operations then financially destroying the rural townships who have ordinances regulating operations.  This is Michigan, after all.   Take your beating, residents, because that's what the Michigan state government is for, to destroy its residents.

That said, here's a laugh for everyone:

In your article “Getting Real about Rural America”, you wrote, “I’m sure that some rural readers will be angered by everything I’ve just said, seeing it as typical big-city condescension. But that’s neither my intention nor the point. I’m simply trying to get real. We can’t help rural America without understanding that the role it used to play in our nation is being undermined by powerful economic forces that nobody knows how to stop.”

Yes, I am angry; No, not at you. Perhaps I am more tired and annoyed than angry. I live in Southeast Michigan, an area that constantly is tossed in with Detroit though it is not Detroit yet. While health care, child care and infrastructure are problems that we all can agree exist, the real issues facing the rural areas here are greedy real estate moguls, the change of agriculture to agri-business, and the mafia. More localized are the natural gas issues and increasing crime as the gangs travel north.

I am 43 years old. I do not want to bombard you with my experiences, because in my experience those who write for newspapers are only interested in something that gets him or her 5 minutes of glory, not actually dealing with the issues at hand. No one wants to talk about the “immigrant families” who five and six generations down still have to work twice as hard as others to get an education. No one wants to talk about how small farmers have been destroyed so that a few could take over that which Thomas Jefferson lauded as the basis of freedom. No one wants to talk about how one person’s reality is so very different from another’s. If you care to read about some of my experiences, you will find them here: 

Don’t take my word for it; come and see for yourself. However, NO ONE wants to come up here and see. Half the battle of fighting stereotypes is to come and see, and it is easier for Michigan if no one notices what has been going on for generations. Should you come to Michigan to see, look me up and I’ll show you the forgotten areas and what life is really like for some of us Americans.

Elvis has left the building.... Maybe

If you go back in time on this blog,  There is a post about something called "Triangle Island."  Triangle Island was a quilt along run by Captain Dick of Treadle On, when Treadle On was still Treadle On.

Two posts are here http://claraspet.blogspot.com/2009/11/triangle-island.html  and http://claraspet.blogspot.com/2011/02/im-off-island.html

(Great Howe, the link to the TO site in the post still works!!!)

Then there was the mystery quilt, Survivor - Rectangle Island from 2009.  For that one, you will have to visit Internet Archive. 

But I'm sorry to report, folks, Elvis has left the building.... maybe. 

The man, the mystery, the slightly goofy Captain Dick hasn't been around much due to advancing age.  Recently, he made a comeback until the Bobbits forced him into a semi-exile.  Then came the injury with a table saw -- and his internet presence is gone now.  All that remains are the memories of the good times and rumors of the Evil Twin -- not the one that looks like Tom Selleck -- and dremls -- dragons --- bears -- remember Romance in the Afternoon (aka Lust in the Rust)?   The soap opera of sewing machines.... that went where no one dared go.  

But folks, this isn't like when I was 15 and had to walk away from my cats and home, go live in town and work in a nursing home kitchen.  (Yes, at 15.)  Treadleonia -- the mythical land some want to forget -- can still live on in us.   Shame on us, those of us left, if we let Olde Treadleonia die.

Like Vincent Starrett wrote in his poem 221B: 

Here dwell together still two men of note

Who never lived and so can never die:

How very near they seem, yet how remote

That age before the world went all awry.

But still the game’s afoot for those with ears

Attuned to catch the distant view-halloo:

England is England yet, for all our fears–

Only those things the heart believes are true.

A yellow fog swirls past the window-pane

As night descends upon this fabled street:

A lonely hansom splashes through the rain,

The ghostly gas lamps fail at twenty feet.

Here, though the world explode, these two survive,

And it is always eighteen ninety-five.

Olde Treadleonia is still west of Inspiration and north of Reality.  It never existed and so cannot die.

LONG LIVE TREADLEONIA!!!!!

Links to the old days:

https://web.archive.org/web/*/www.dickwightman.com

https://web.archive.org/web/*/www.treadleon.net

Note 1:  I wrote a research paper on Sherlock Holmes in 1994.  Pre-internet days meant I had to pay research services because all my newspaper articles were from the 1910s-20s.  There is serious research out there about a man who never lived.

Note 2: Bobbits.  In the spirit of Captain Dick, I created them while recording the latest saga..... maybe I'll get brave and post it some day.  I will mention that I moonlight as a writer for The Underground Richmond Press News (URP News, cf. Foxtrot strip August 6, 1997.)

Note 3:  I've still got it.  Treadleonia AND Sherlock Holmes AND Foxtrot references in one post.  That one's for you, Bill Amend.

Armada Tornado

 We had a lively night, Saturday night.  An EF-1 tornado hit the village of Armada, just two miles north of me.  We watched it from our house.    Not a very good picture, but we were too worried for everyone, and too busy watching the sky at our house.  We had rotating clouds by us, too.

The wall cloud after the tornado had passed:

The National Weather Service says it was max wind speeds of 105 MPH, 3.6 miles long, 700 yards (0.4 miles) wide.  There are damage pictures galore out there, so search "Armada MI tornado" and you'll see them.  One office building has become the face of the village, but at least 5 houses will have to be demolished and rebuilt.  Many more were damaged.  There is a good video up at Macomb County Scanner facebook page.

There seem to have been no injuries, Thank God.

The night of the tornado, our County Executive Mark "Media hog" Hackel was right in Armada, like he really gives a rip.  NO ONE in this damn county gives a rip about us up here, unless it means something to their political campaign or means money.  Sorry Mark, I know you were once one of the good guys.  Go crawl back to your Macomb Township home and stay there, in the cancer of the county.  

I'm writing this from my uncle's house, as I haven't had internet that completely functioned since June 25.  No, really, I can't get anything else and have been put on waiting lists, assuming one day we won't be a dead area anymore.  That is due to the Michigan Telecommunications Act https://www.michigan.gov/documents/mpsc/pa179_453242_7.pdf

There's the humorous part of the tornado, if humor can exist in such a thing.  It weakened to an EF-0 when it hit the schools, and the electrical poles and some trees got the worst of it.   The schools survived.  Unfortunately, too many homes and a couple businesses didn't.  But the people survived.

This is what has been going on

 If a picture is worth a thousand words, this should be worth a million.  These signs showed up in my township the last few days:

The entire text of the proposed ordinance changes are here:  

https://www.raytwp.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/02/Proposed-Zoning-Amendments.pdf

All that is missing from the text is the ordinance requiring all those without an approved income, lifestyle, or house value to be removed from the township.  

Perhaps I would be less upset if the eejits hadn't tried to raise my taxes on my garden lot 90%.  Or if they hadn't, oh, told me I didn't really live in the township.   As the old billboard on Featherstone Road in Pontiac read, "A bullet in the head would be more merciful than 20 years of political torture and..." 

EDIT:  I spoke with the township supervisor.  He had the ordinance removed from the proposal at the last meeting and he was not in favor of it.  Unfortunately, this points out another issue in the township -- communication.  Zoom meetings work when you have decent internet, but there are those of us who don't.  I am so grateful that I don't have to fight this battle that I can live with the rest of it.

 

Food for Thought

- As another community member said when he saw the kinds of seeds I gave Donna, "There is so much that we forgot to take with us before the flood."  Enduring Seeds, Gary Paul Nabhan

That sentence makes me cry every time I read it.

"The flood" refers to the Garrison Dam.  Built from 1947-1953, it coming into existence meant that the Mandan, Hidatsa, and Arikara had to leave the lands they had lived on for centuries.  Most accounts say they accepted payment of 5 million for their lands; but anyone who ever dealt with a large corporation and/or government knows what that really means.  "We're taking your land, and here's some money that you have to sign this paper for."  In the end, they got about $33 per acre.  They lost their homes, their way of life, and even their seeds.  (Look up the full story.  Everyone should have to hear the brutal truth what happened.  Better yet, read Bury My Heart At Wounded Knee.)

Yet some of their seed survived, which made their way into the hands of seed savers.  More importantly, those seeds are still with their people, or have gone back to their people.

That's more than I can say for my ancestors' seeds.

Some of my ancestors came from the German/Poland border (then called Prussia), from Mecklenburg, and from France (Hugenots who lived between France and Germany) on my mother's side.  On my father's side, from Moravia, from Germany allegedly (that great-grandma claimed a lot that can't be proven), and from Ireland and Scotland.  

So they grew.....  well....  there's those family seeds from.....  

I suppose that's one of the issues with being from an immigrant family.  Anything you had that survived until the World Wars, you lost to patriotism.  Language included.  Today it is popular to point fingers and scream "white," but even 30 years ago, when I was in high school and college, you had better not show anything that made you look less "English."  No accent or speech patterns.  No religion.  I once was mistaken for having a Canadian accent.  I should have let that individual think that.  

So this year as I plan my "culturally diverse" garden, I will think about all the different places my seed has come from and rejoice at the variety.... but part of me will always wonder "what did my family grow?"

Happy 2021

I wish everyone a very good 2021, with hopes that this year turns out better than it promises to.

Perhaps I would have more hope for the year if I wasn't watching, while at this moment, news reporters are calling people who oppose them "anarchists." In Michigan, we watched as real anarchists took over Seattle last year and ran massive protests. I watched and prayed, as close to my own home, we were invaded by those same anarchists from Washington and Oregon. They were supported by our governor while it was a crime to leave our homes because of a virus. Visit the anarchists' websites, if you don't believe me.  

I declare this year's heroes should be the late Group Captain Harry "Wings" Day of the RAF (1898-1977), and the late Colonel Jerry Sage (1917-1993). Their books are well worth the read, and they ought to be read in the schools. (I hear the laughter.)  

And so, my ode to 2021. At the rate it is going, Lewis Carroll's Jabberwocky is the poem of the year.

To Lewis Carroll, poet brillig,

Now raise your bloody* glass!

Jabberwocky, Bandersnatch,

We’ll drink an ode to you.



For common sense let’s raise a pint

To common sense, now dead!

Let’s take a cup of kindness yet,

Before that, too, has died.

CMK 2021

*British word used in place of something else

Dark Winters and Seeds

 I received an email a few days ago from Seed Savers (SSE).  This is what I read:

How are you doing? If you were able to plant seeds this year, were they for food, or beauty, or both? Did your garden, whether a large plot or a small community space or a windowsill, bring you peace, joy, and nourishment? Did you save any seeds, or share them? I would love to hear about your experiences this year, and how you are finding ways to connect to the seeds and to the people around you.

Instantly I was transported back in time to earlier this year, when in Michigan, lottery tickets and alcohol were essential items, and seeds were considered non-essential items by our governor.  Right then and there I was grateful I am a seed saver.  I laughed at the idiocy which made me want to cry, and I planted my rebellious garden with a quiet gratefulness that I had learned about SSE nearly 20 years ago.

I grew up on my grandparents' farm, born the same year SSE came into existence.  Now and again I find pictures of gardens past on the farm, but it was a dwindling farm by the time I was around.  My grandparents were in their 50s when I was born, and ten years earlier they had fallen victim to the destruction of the dairy farmer the State of Michigan so strongly desired.  When I was a kid, we had pigs and beef cattle, Polled Herefords for those who care.  On the land that wasn't pasture Grandpa grew hay, wheat, corn, and Maple Arrow soybeans (the last few years.)   And of course, there was The Garden.

I tried to mark the estimated location of The Garden, but if you look closely, you can still see the marks.

.

In my mind I can still see it.  Pear trees on the fence line.  The barbed wire twisted into the trunk of one of the trees from one of the tornadoes that went through.  Green peppers.  Eggplant.  Tomatoes.  Chucking rotten tomatoes over the fence line towards the tower line.  Beets.  Green beans... the never-ending row of green beans.  The rhubarb we got from Uncle Norman, beautiful large plants.

I was about 10 years old when I wanted to be a farmer like my grandpa, and he told me there was no future in farming.  I believed him even while it hurt to hear that, but knowing my grandpa, I'm sure it hurt him to say it.  He was an old-type farmer, where 80 acres was enough until government got involved.  He was right.  Just a couple years later when I was 12, the State of Michigan began another major assault on rural Michigan.  I remember 7th grade well because everyone talked about taxes doubling and tripling overnight.  The two major topics among my classmates were taxes and the Richmond Community Schools trying to kill busing for parochial school students (of which I was one.)  (That was also the same year U2's The Joshua Tree came out.  Just sayin'.)

   

Rural area in the 1980s, folks.  Even the kids understood more than most politicians today.

We never saved seeds.  I only remember hearing my grandpa say, "You can't save seeds," and I remember Grandma said it was too hard to grow tomato plants from seed.  Years later, after I had learned otherwise, I asked Grandpa why he always said "you couldn't save seed" because I was.  He looked at me with that look I knew so well ("how dumb can you be"), and said, "It was all hybrid seed."  (Diane Ott Whealy does an excellent job in her book  Gathering: Memoir of a Seed Saver talking about the issues in the 70s and 80s.)

The garden on the septic field, 1976.  Even at a year old you knew where I would be! 

In the last few years, as I have been trying to rebuild any knowledge of what my family would have traditionally grown, my mom has been some help.  With her help, I know that one great-grandma grew Victor tomatoes and some peas of some sort.  (The seeds she saved were probably thrown out after her death.)  The other great-grandpa favored Burpee's Stringless green beans, which were grown until no one could get seed any longer.  (I remember Blue Lake something-or-the-other.  One number was OK, the other not.)  My grandpa, however, gave me the most clues to figure out what seeds would have been grown.  He told me, when I asked what varieties we grew back when, that he didn't remember but Ferry Morse was good seed.  ("Well, it used to be," he said.)  Thanks to Internet Archive a few years ago, I found a whole collection of Ferry Morse catalogues.  They were from Detroit originally -- and our farms were all just north of there.  (Erin Twp, Clinton Twp, Sterling Twp, Lenox Twp.  Don't ask what they look like now.)   But anyway, thanks to those catalogues and the descriptions, I was able to figure out the Victor tomato.  It's something, anyway.  

So what about "dark winters"?  Well, 20-some minutes ago, while I write this, Michigan is "Pausing", not in lockdown.  Not yet.  We have a vindictive governor.  Give her time.  That said, other than screwing up my son's ability to take Woodshop 2 in high school and the economic issues, I'm not too worried about a "long, dark winter."  I find winters are way too short to do what I need to, and it won't be long before I'm starting seeds in the house.  (I stocked up on what I needed for when seed-starting supplies are deemed "non-essential" again.)  Besides, Internet Archive has many more seed catalogues.  So many old catalogues, so little time.  Last year I got into trouble with the Isbell Seeds catalogues from Jackson, MI, and found a kick-tail tomato called Golden Colossal.  If you are reading this, you really need to check out a tomato so popular it lasted 30 years in the catalogues...

Take it from someone who is expendable.  Don't fear a long, dark winter -- read a seed catalogue!

2020's garden in June.  From 80 acres to less than one, between two gas companies.  It proved that 2020 wasn't all bad!

There is no United States of America

 There is nothing quite like being slapped into reality.   Silly me, I believed that it was still possible for a nobody like Abraham Lincoln to be elected president.  I believed that the so-called Land of Opportunity was still that.   If I am self-depreciating enough, I will admit that I actually believed, oh, that there was still justice in this country, even a little bit.

Yeah, I'm dumb.

The court update with my parents, about their grandson (my half-nephew) who has abused them and threatened to kill them is this:  my parents were coerced into signing papers they didn't understand so they are at fault.  MDHHS -- that brilliant bastion of complete stupidity who answers to no one -- claims my dad has early onset dementia, because the nephew's psychiatrist says so -- because the 11 year old boy said so.  If my dad does, then how can they coerce him into an admission that isn't true?

Oh, and the overall goal, besides taking all the money CPS can from my parents, is to put the grandson back in.  Yes, the same one who threatened to kill them, and who held my dad hostage while my mom almost died in the hospital.

The referee, the lawyers, CPS and MDHHS, are all more concerned with making money and getting on the golf course than solving the problem of a child so horribly abused that he never should have been placed with his grandparents.  Except the State of Michigan was more concerned with getting the kids out of the system, and so their facilitator lied -- and was paid a $10,000 bonus.  $5,000 per child.  The Brockitt case was worth $20,000.

As some of you know, my mom almost died in January.  She is not able to walk very well, and frankly, I have been in the middle ground of my parents, as my mom is in denial about what she is and isn't able to do.  She is unable to do very little, and I can't see how she will be able to stay on her own once my dad dies of the stress of this situation.  (No one seems to recall his heart problems, or that his grandson attempted to kill him.)   There are days I don't understand how she can be home at all. 

But hey, there's a lot of people who need to make their money and hurry up to get out onto the golf course.   Maybe we should hang the lawyers, judges, social workers and others who can't be bothered with their jobs.....  but they make too much money.   Must be nice to consistently replace an abuser into the same home, and not be held liable for breaking the law, eh Samantha?  The law says an abuser cannot be placed back into the home.  Must be nice to be able to watch elder abuse occur and not be named as accessory when you refused to stop it, eh Keith? 

"Cut the telephone line and the story's the same."

"Live Free and Die" Memorial Day 2020 under occupation

"It's "Live Free or Die", not 'Live free AND die'," said Michigan Governor Whitmer at one of her coronavirus briefings.  SNL parodied it, and that is all that is out there now.

This post began as a commentary on the ridiculousness of her statement and comparing what she is doing to the book 1984.  Instead, I will let these timeless words, written by a Canadian soldier during the war to end all wars, say what needs to be said in indictment of Gretchen Whitmer.

We also received word that Bluewater gets to build compressor behind us "but we should be proud" that we lost.  We should be proud that a corporation can destroy our homes and lives, that we should be afraid and live in fear of a virus....  I don't recognize America, do you?  Would the soldiers, who lie sleeping in their graves from WWI and WWII -- would they?  What would they say to us, who hand away without thought, what they gave their lives for?   Not all wars are fought with artillery, and we must be willing to keep faith with those who fought for our futures.

In Flanders fields, the poppies blow,

Between the crosses, row on row,

  That mark our place; and in the sky

   The larks, still singing bravely, fly

Scarce heard among 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.

~John McCrae, 1872-1918

Crazy House, Part 2...

One serious note:  As I make fun of my house, let it be known that I love my little house, and I am fighting tooth and nail to keep it sane in a world where it no longer fits.  This house and I have an unusual relationship.  I get annoyed at the idiosyncrasies from past residents, and it drips water on my head when no one is around, with no sign of a leak anywhere.  

I started this post last May.  That says a lot.

On with the fun and craziness of this house because who can't use a little fun and crazy of this sort right now with the governor  -- I mean virus -- running loose.

My house is a never-ending source of amusement for those with a strange sense of humor.  I hope the biggest thing to come out of the kitchen redo is that we get rid of the ant hill, and maybe one of the places mice like to come in.  After 20 years of living with them, I'm ready for a "Richmond Divorce"  (from the mice and ants, not the house.) Yes, I have lived here longer than anywhere else in my life, surpassing my beloved Bates Road.

Before I enter the fun and crazy, a little background...  I found a house plan, courtesy Internet Archive, from Modern Home Plans ca 1955, which is the closest I have yet found for my house.

Look at that linen closet!  In my dreams...

A few differences:  the plan has stairs for a basement ; no laundry room; kitchen and dining are flipped; and the bedrooms are larger in this plan.  Also, the closet is next to the bathtub, whereas ours is in a row with it. 

My attempt at drawing our house layout.  2 squares = 1 ft

Classic ranch-style, I believe.  It had a one-car garage at a point, where the plan I found had a car port.  I don't know my garage sizes, but I assume a 14 ft wide garage is a one-car.  I don't have enough experience with garages to know.

Not a bad house at all, but certainly not standard to today's standards.  We hit 1400 sq ft because of the garage, but we lose a bit to the furnace and everything that would be in a basement, if we had one.  Originally it didn't have a furnace but a heat pump outside, which explains a few things that never made sense.

I have always thought the pantry in the hallway was a nice touch. 
It took me years to realize it was supposed to be a pantry.

This shows the current layout of the kitchen and laundry.    The washer and dryer are 9" off the wall due to the sagging floor and the way the dryer vent comes through the floor.  All of the appliances are in the same spot, helping cause the sagging floor.  The rest of the floor issue involves an old leak which rotted the joist and cracked it, conveniently where all four appliances meet.  This is what really is setting off the "kitchen redo." We should have fixed the floor sooner, but we couldn't find anyone willing to help.   We were even told leveling the floor couldn't be done.  Thank God for friends who say, "Oh, I've seen worse than this before..."  We couldn't have made it this far without that kind of encouragement.  I can understand now why people buy a house and completely tear it apart.