Life Stories By Shel

 On the battlefield at Gettysburg Pennsylvania there sits a monument known as The Irish Brigade. On that monument, these words are engraved. 'Of those who in their manhood died to blot out Slavery's stain, And rear aloft in all its pride, fair Freedom's flag again' 'Tis ours to raise this cross on high above the Irish dead, Who showed mankind the way to die, when Truth and Freedom led."   From, Our Fallen Comrades, by William Collins, 1888. My husband Jerry and I recently visited this monument on our trip to Gettysburg this past year. My dear sweet friend Amy Clum had sent me a book, Ghost of Gettysburg Walking on Hallowed Ground by Drs. Dave and Sharon Oester.  The book was a gift, for my trip. Yet, it was more than a gift, it was a balm for our suffering souls.  For, my husband and I had experienced a few monumental losses in the days and weeks that preceded our departure for the land of Pennsylvania.  Amy's well-intentioned gift gav...

google.com, pub-2115235636283523, DIRECT, f08c47fec0942fa0 Do you know where the phrase" Sleep Tight, don't let the bed bugs bite" originated from?  The Sleep Tight part of the phrase was actually started somewhere in the 1600s.  Folks used to sleep on something called a rope or cord bed. Rope beds were constructed of wood, usually maple or oak. The style of the bed is a basic Shaker style with a simple headboard, footboard and two side rails.  Wooden pegs lined the wooden rails.  Heavy cording or rope was woven like a net and pulled taut or tight.  A mattress made of cloth and downy feathers was laid atop the cording.  Hence the phrase "sleep tight" or make sure the cording of your bed is pulled up tight.  I think the bed bug part was added later.  Probably during a bed bug epidemic but don't quote me on that last part.  The very thought of bed bugs makes me shudder.   Recently I was given an assignment for a creative wr...

As a small child, I would sit in the window sill of my second story bedroom window and watch the scene that was outside.  I would see the crooked ole tree that grew just beside the house, extremely close to the edge of the hill side. That tree both frightened me and amazed me.  In the fall when the winds began to whip and the skies were cloudy and dark from a storm, that tree would begin to sway and unfurl its long tendrils and rake its limbs across my bedroom window.  The sound was grating and dreadful and It gave me an awful scare.  In the spring the sun would hit the back side of the house and illuminate that tree and thought it was one of the skinniest trees on our property it would stretch out its arms and sprout shiny new green leaves that swayed softly and gently in the early spring breeze.   Many bird's and the insect's used that tree as home and I got to witness it almost daily for the first fifteen years of my life. That small story is but a sna...

Raymond Stanley Hill  was my maternal grandfather and my hero. I idolized this much beloved old fellow  Every time my Grandpa entered or left a room I could smell his signature scent.  It lingered in the air.  It was a odd mix of High Karate cologne, sweat, tobacco, and sawdust.  His skin was leather like and rough and his hands were hard and calloused. Grandpa had a firm handshake and his fingers were slightly yellowed from decades of smoking Salem Menthol cigarettes.   He was a beekeeper, gardener extraordinaire, farm hand, truck driver, paper mill retiree' and WWII Veteran.  Sargent first class, USA, Army  all the way.  Often times, I'd find my grandpa toiling away the day in his small woodshed that sat off to the side of  house that he shared with my Grandmother.  I would sit in their for what seemed like hours, just watching him.  He'd carefully measure, sand and piece together his beautiful wooden creation's. H...

Copy code snippet The famous 60's rock band The Byrd's sing one of my favorite songs.  Turn, Turn, Turn.  The  lyrics are an adaptation of one of my most beloved passages in the Holy Bible: Ecclesiastes 3:1 I do believe that there is a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to sow. a time to kill, a time to heal and a time to dance.  I try to keep this song and these words in my mind as I recall events that have happened in my life.  Everything in my 52 years of proliferates growth has happened for a reason.  I often look beyond my multiple years to the centuries of life that preceded me and I wonder, did my ancestors believe the same? My season of life is marked by two tragic turns of events.  The first event happened on my Maternal Grandmother's side of the family.  I'll call this the Season of Slain.  My 7th Great Grandfather's name was Benjamin Slane.   By all accounts, he is a true sur...

I have a daughter in Lgoogle.com, pub-2115235636283523, DIRECT, f08c47fec0942fa0google.com, pub-2115235636283523, DIRECT, f08c47fec0942fa0aw who knows how to give good gifts.  She is such a fantastic gift giver that she will gift you with a present that you didn't even know yourself that you wanted, nor did you know that you needed it. I swear this girl is so good at gifting presents that, if there was a place called gift giving heaven, she would have already achieved nirvana. I received one of those glorious presents this past summer for my 52 birthday.   My youngest son and daughter in law gifted me a membership to Ancestry.com.  This very special gift opened up a whole new world for me.  With my new ancestry membership in hand, I began a journey of self-discovery that would lead me to some faraway places and bring me into contact with some very interesting characters. I've always understood that I was a citizen of the good ole USA.  I knew where I fit ...