JACKS, Mother and Daughter and childhood games

Depending on how old you are, you might or might know what this is a picture of.

• It's Jack's. This picture is rather traditional in appearance. I remembering having multi-colored ones too. My Mother taught me to play Jacks. I love to play with her sitting on the front stoop in Marion where I grew up. I can see us there now. The stoop was small and off to the right side was a metal box for the milk man. It was a great game for mother and daughter to play because it really didn't take much time, you could stop and start if you got interrupted easily. Which Mom, usually did to run inside and start a load of laundry, or to hang another load on the clothes line out back. As I got better, we'd play with 2 sets. You really had to get good at bouncing the ball higher to scoop up that many Jacks. You also had to have a bigger hand. Somewhere along the line I remember a friend showing Mom and I a "special ball" she had that really bounced; allowing you more time to scoop up those Jacks. It was the inside of a golf ball. You'd crack open the golf ball, unwrap the rubber bands that were there and inside you had a "special ball".

A fun memory, Thanks Mom.

Did you play Jacks?

If you're new to my blog you might not have seen these Alphabetical Memories of My Mom:


A=Advice, Afghan, Apples
B=Bread, and Bernie
C=Camping, Creativity and Courage
D=Dancing and Delaware Dam
E=Energy and Etiquette
F=Friday
G=Gown (wedding gown), grape pop
H=Hammocks and Holidays
I=Ice Skating and Isaly's

No No, Not SNOW

Snow, that's what this is folks. Ugh. Remember it will soon be this time again. Moving pictures from memory sticks, CD's, and my old computer; trying so hard to get everything on the computer and into proper folders then do a massive back up and pitch the old stack of stuff. Always trying to get more organized. In so doing, I came across this picture. Sorry it's a bit blurred and dark. I took this looking at the window at my fabulous neighbor. You've gotten a glimpse of my bad neighbor with his dandelions...now you can see my wonderful good neighbor as he's snow blowing for me.

Thought you'd get a kick out of this, if it's still hot wherever you are. And sadly, it's a reminder to us all of the season ahead. Can you imagine being homeless, living outside without a roof over you head in these conditions? I can't either, and yet I know it happens. If you're not aware of my homeless project, please hop over Here and read about it. See if there's a way you can help. Thanks.

Do you dread winter and snow?

Do You See What I See?

"Do You See What I See?" Way in the sky little lamb? As I typed the title to this post that Christmas Carole came to mind. Though that's not what this post is about.

Do you? See what I see? This tree is huge, the circumference that is. Not very tall anymore; as it's been cut so many times. Damaged through storms and time, not much is left. This tree speaks to me. Partially I think because given it's size, the hundreds of years it's grown; think what all it could tell us. This tree truly does call out to me. It's located in Green Lawn Cemetery here in town. Green Lawn is the 2nd largest cemetery in the state. It's quite old, historic and interesting. It's not possible for me to go to this cemetery without stopping to visit, my tree. Even my friends call it, Sandy's tree. I feel quite spiritual when I'm there. This is the front of the tree, I see a body; do you? Like a person is facing you.  And below

Is the back of the tree.  Do you see the back of a body? I do.

The first time I photographed this tree was almost a bit spooky. I was driving by on my way out of the cemetery,(had photographed for people doing their genealogy). I spotted it and had to stop. After parking the car and walking over I felt a chill, an odd sensation. I walked in silence around the tree and wondered about it. I started to leave after photographing it, when I felt compelled to stay a bit longer. Almost like I was visiting. Once again I decided I really needed to leave, choose a different path to exist by and there in front of me a tombstone of Frank Schoenfeld. I looked at it several times, as well as his family members around him. I didn't know he had died. Frank Schoenfeld had been my favorite teacher. He was my 7th grade homeroom teacher, taught Ohio history. He was a fabulous teacher, which I think is why I loved history so much. Now to appreciate how odd it was for me to find the memorial you need to understand the size of Green Lawn. It is 360 acres, founded in 1848 and has hundreds of thousands of memorials.

Until they painted a couple of the roads it was not uncommon for people to get lost there. Even now with the roads painted, I never go without a map of the cemetery in hand; and I'm pretty familiar with it. People used to joke about leaving bread crumbs so they could find their way out.

The list of who's who buried in this cemetery is very impressive, from President G.W. Bush's grandfather, to Governor Rhodes, to Eddie Rickenbacher, to slaves in unmarked graves from years back. The tree surely has witness much.

Do you see what it speaks to me?  Do you see what I see?