DEER HUNTING AND FOREST FIRE - VARGA STORY NUMBER 3

My late mother's half-brother, Bob, continues to relate some of the stories about the times my sister and I lived with them in Mt. Shasta, California. This was the last time we were there. I was 12-years old (almost 13), Jean and Evelyn were 10, and Bob must have been about 8 or 9. He has wonderful memories of growing up in California, but now lives in Texas. I love his stories and told him I think he is a great storyteller. I'll bet his grandchildren feel the same way.

When my sister Jean and I lived there for a few months in 1952, I have memories of going up on a mountain (maybe Mt Etna?) deer hunting. The only time in my life I had such an experience, and it is vivid in my memory...especially when they shot the first deer from the truck as we were driving up. We all jumped out of the truck to watch when they went to get the fallen deer. As I approached, they (your dad or James Vernon) had slit the stomach open. The ghastly memory of seeing the stomach and all contents in the abdomen -- and all of it moving, including the heart I can still picture. I thought the deer was still alive, and of course, I cried. (And immediately got sent back to the truck!)

Most of that trip was fun, although I got all of us in a lot of trouble for wandering off "exploring". (I was the oldest and  "leader" of our little pack, and I loved to boss the younger ones around.) I remember the adults put pine branches on the dirt floors of our tents, which we slept on in our sleeping bags. I think that was the first time I ever wore insulated underwear as well!!

Uncle Bobby answered me with the following story. His memory is much better than mine. 

"The mountain was Mt. Eddy and we went up Dale Creek, a tributary of the Shasta River. We camped at 'Dale Meadows', which is a beautiful green meadow with Dale Creek running through the middle of it. It’s about one mile long and a quarter mile wide. Fir and pine trees surround the meadow and grow half way up the slopes on both sides. The elevation is about 8000 ft. and it gets cold at night. You needed long underwear!" 

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"In 1961 James and I spent four days on a small lightning fire near the same spot that your Granddaddy had set up deer camp back in 1952, when you and Jean were with us. The U.S. Forest Service drove us up there in a little military jeep and dumped us out with our two days of K-rations, sleeping bags and all of our fire fighting gear. Forest Ranger Chitwood told us to get the fire out and he would be back in a day or two. He said there were lightning fires all over and he had to get back to Headquarters. He had planned on staying and helping, but the fire was too big and he couldn’t stay the time it would take to put it out! He figured it would take about four days for James and I to get the fire out completely. He left us with the rations that he had brought and he took off down the mountain in his little jeep.

"James and I had a fire line around the fire before dark and we took turns the rest of the night keeping a watch on the trees that were burning inside the fire line. The next morning we used chain saws to cut down all the trees that were still burning. We put them out after they were on the ground, cleaned up our tools and then went fishing. We had roasted trout for lunch! We saved the K-rations for a special occasion!

"After lunch, James and I talked a lot about you and Jean and our family deer hunting trip back in 1952. We had a good laugh about us four kids getting a whipping for wandering so far from camp that we couldn’t hear Mom hollering for us. My whipping didn’t hurt that much. Did yours? I guess Mom got pretty scared when she couldn’t find us."

It must not have hurt me very much, as I don't even remember the "whipping". I do remember how scared and angry your mom was. My dad probably would have killed me! I was probably thankful we only got her whippings.

"We also laughed about the deer killing that took place. We were on our way home, not going up to camp. As I remember it, we were about a mile from where we had camped when we all saw that big five-point buck about the same time. Mom told us kids to be quiet and to stay in the truck! James was the first one to jump out

James Vernon Varga
Ca. 1952

with his gun, while the truck was still moving! Your Granddaddy got the truck stopped, grabbed his gun, jumped out and saw that James was about to shoot the buck before your Granddaddy could even take aim. Your Granddaddy started hollering, 'Don't shoot James!', Don't shoot James!, Don't shoot!', then BOOM! Your Granddaddy shot and broke the deer’s back. James had to shoot the buck in the head. Your Granddaddy and James started dressing the deer out, while quarreling over what your Granddaddy had just done. James said to Granddaddy,  'I had a good bead on his neck, but I didn’t shoot because of all the hollering that you were doing. I thought there must be a good reason for me not to shoot. Like, if I did I would kill somebody!' Your Granddaddy said, 'I figured you would miss and I couldn’t get a bead on his neck, that tree was in the way, so I decided to break his back. I knew you could finish him off!' About that time they were rolling the guts out and you showed up and started screaming. Your Granddaddy was upset and a little ashamed of himself and he was a little harsh telling you to get back to the truck. You probably had never seen so much killing with blood and guts before. You know your Granddaddy, and know he felt bad about the way he spoke to you, even if he never told you. 

"We all had a good time most of the time on that deer hunt and camping trip!"

Uncle Bobby, the description of what you told me happened is so gruesome I almost get sick reading it. I know that's why I have never wanted to hunt or go with anyone to do so. The trauma of that scene stays with me to this day. Because of it, I don't even remember Granddaddy scolding me.

"Back to the Forest Fire! James and I spent the rest of the day just fishing and playing. We did cut a bunch of fir boughs for our beds that night. Sure better than sleeping on the cold hard ground. About sundown a Forest Service plane flew over us and dropped out a big box by parachute. James and I got really excited and ran out into the meadow where it had landed. We dragged it and the parachute over by our campfire and opened the box up. We could hardly believe what was in it. A bunch of insulated containers with four steaks about a pound apiece, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, dinner rolls and enough sweet rolls and donuts to kill the two of us. All of it was still hot! There was also ice cold butter, milk, and jelly. We ate good those four days we were there at Dale Meadows. We also used the parachute as a tent at night and for shade during the heat of the day while we were resting. They did finally come and picked us up."

I'm glad you remember some of the same things I do... only better! Scary that you and James were all alone fighting that fire. Bet they don't do things like that anymore. Must not have been the horrific drought back then as we've had in recent years. Glad you two made it okay!

"Just so you know, about 95% of forest fires are started by lightning and are not dangerous. The only danger involved in that 95% is to the people fighting the fires and them making stupid mistakes. The other 5% become dangerous because they are started by people at lower elevations or the environmentalists have had a hand in, or 'Let it burn. It's natural', governmental policies. James and I weren't ever in any danger. We worked hard for a few hours, then played the next few days until we were picked up. James was a great brother. He always found ways to make whatever the situation was fun and memorable."

You know what what, Uncle Bobby? I'll bet you always made every situation fun and memorable, too!

Here's to good memories,
Marilyn

Calf Branding and Horse Breaking - Varga Story Number 2

Having reconnected with my "Uncle" Bobby, I have had the opportunity to share my memories of the times my sister Jean and I went to live with his dad, my Granddaddy, in our childhood. Bobby, his sister Evelyn, and older brother James Vernon were my mother's half-siblings. I told Bobby that I remembered very little about Granddaddy other than he was very good-natured, and I really loved him.

The first time we went to live with them was in early 1945, during World War II. My mother was having a hard time taking care of us while working and it was very difficult to find a place to live that would take children as well. When my dad was stationed at Fort Chaffee in Arkansas, Mother went to work in Little Rock. A young woman also married to a soldier was living with us to share expenses. Children were not allowed in the apartment we lived in, but this young woman took care of me and my sister during the day while Mother was at work. We had to be very quiet and never go out of the apartment. Of course, we were eventually discovered and Mother was given a 60-day eviction notice. That may have been the reason we were taken to Granddaddy Varga's in Mount Shasta, California. Uncle Bobby answered the questions I had about not only the events I recalled, but gave me a fascinating look at my grandfather and the life they lived. These were some of our written conversations.

My strongest memory from that time was of going to a roundup of cattle. We ate food from what was known at one time as a "chuck wagon". I was watching cowboys throw a calf they had roped to the ground, then brand it with a hot branding iron. I was horrified and started crying because I could hear the calf's cries, and I knew it must have been hurting. An adult pulled me away. There were lots of people there, not just our family. I have no idea who's cattle they were.

That must have been the first time we lived with you, as I was only about 6-years old. I also remember around that time watching Granddaddy through a wooden rail fence as he rode on a bucking horse. One story I heard was that he once broke horses for the Forest Rangers. True?

"Your Granddaddy was a cowboy at heart and he loved working cattle. The ranch you remember was the Robinson Ranch in Shasta Valley near Edgewood, California. Your Granddaddy and your Great-Aunt Babalou’s husband (Shorty) went to work there in the 30’s (The Depression). Your Granddaddy didn’t have a job there at the time you were there, but always volunteered his services during branding time. He and Mother always loaded us kids up and we always got to go, too. At one time or another I think someone from the Varga family worked there until 1968. I even worked there for about four months. It was a great ranch for kids with ponds and creeks and hills to climb. There were ducks, fish, deer and cottontail rabbits to hunt. The women folk kind of turned us kids loose.

(Pinterest)

"Anyway, the 'chuck wagon' you remember was there to ensure there were plenty of supplies to feed everybody. There were usually 4-8 families plus numerous single cowboys that would show up, knowing if they worked hard they would get a free meal. All the women brought salads and desserts. The Chuck wagon furnished the tables, benches, pots and pans, beans, flour, salt, pepper and lard to fry up the meat for lunch and supper that night.

(Public Domain)

"The cowboys would round up some of cows and calves on horseback. Then a cowboy, on a cutting horse, would cut out a calf, rope it by the neck and drag it over by the branding fire where he would jump off his cutting horse, throw the calf to the ground, tie a piggin’ string around three legs and hold the calf to the ground. Then, another cowboy would run over from the fire with a hot branding iron, two buckets and his pocket knife. He would brand the calf, and if it was a bull, cut off its testicles, throw those in one of the buckets, reach in the other bucket, that was filled with antiseptic (It smelled and looked like creosote to me!), take out a brush and doctor the calf’s little injured area. The cowboy holding the calf would take the noose off its neck, untie the piggin’ and let the calf run back to its mommy. The cowboy would coil up his rope, get on his horse and go cut out another calf and the process would start all over again. The cowboys all switched jobs with one of the other boys when they got bored with doing the job they had. It always looked to me like every cowboy enjoyed it all, especially your Granddaddy. There was always a lot of bawling from the calves, mooing from their mothers, and yelling and hollering from the cowboys. I would think a little girl of six years would find all this exciting!! You might have helped the women prepare the meat for lunch and dinner.

"While all this was going on the women were cleaning and cutting up the meat, putting it in a seasoned batter of milk and eggs, then rolling it in seasoned flour, frying it in lard until it was golden and crispy, like Colonel Sanders' golden chicken tenders. They were also setting up the tables and benches, putting the salads and desserts on the table, setting individual places at the table with a plate, a glass, a knife and fork. When everything was ready one of them would ring the big triangle dinner bell. The kids came running from the ponds and creeks and hills and fields.

"The men came running from the pastures and corrals and barns and sheds. What a wonderful meal with family and friends and your Granddaddy. By the way Marilyn, that one bucket was completely empty by then! And you thought you were eating 'chicken nuggets'! (Smile)

(Paul Vernon Varga)

"Your Granddaddy did break horses for the U.S. Forest Service. In fact I have a picture, somewhere, (see above) of him on a bucking horse in the Shasta National stock corral there in Mount Shasta. He worked steady for the Forest Service from the late 30’s to around 1950. He also planted fish in most of the lakes in northern California. Most of the high mountain lakes were barren of any fish. Now they are brimming with Eastern Brook, German Brown, and Rainbow trout. The environmentalists are now trying to get the government to poison all of these lakes because fish were not native. (Stupid!)"

I have more recollections to come of the time we all lived together again in 1951. It's a wonder we survived some of these escapades! Stay tuned.

Peace,
Marilyn

A Nation Cries in Outrage

Chernobyl Reactor after meltdown.

"I remember Dan Rather saying about Chernobyl, 'If it weren't for the wind, nobody would know this story.' The wind was the person that told the story. Left to humans, it would have remained secret and hidden".. Linda Hogan

Not that long ago. Today we might say, "If it weren't for that iPhone, nobody would know the truth of what happened to George Floyd or Eric Garner or Ahmaud Arbery." 

A nation cries in outrage as another example of racism in our country is exposed. What do policemen like Derek Chauvin and Daniel Pantaleo think while they are in the act of murdering someone in full view of the public? Are they in an altered state and not aware of the consequences of their actions? Can they understand the pain they are inflicting? Surely they know they are in no danger with other officers standing by. They also know there are other means of subduing the suspect.

Daniel Pantaleo's chokehold on Eric Garner in 2014 caused an acute asthma attack, killing him on the sidewalk as he, too, pleaded to be allowed to breathe. Pantaleo was placed on desk duty and received full pay and benefits for 5-years until a Grand Jury failed to indict him. Only then was he fired from his job -- the only punishment. (I did read that his wife divorced him. Good for her!) Again, "if it weren't for the iPhone videos", we might not know the full truth of what happened. 

Punitive action appears to be taking place much sooner this time, as all of the officers involved in George Floyd's death have been fired and charges brought against Chauvin for the brutal act of kneeling on another human being's neck for nearly 9-minutes, all the while listening to the pitiful pleas from his victim that he cannot breathe. It may take a speedy trial and conviction on murder charges to put an end to the chaos and riots resulting from what began as peaceful protests across our nation. 

(Kent State - 1970 - The Guardian)

I cannot help but think of the 50-year-old Kent State shootings "Kent State Massacre" as I hear the National Guard has been brought in to try to control the riots now happening all over the country. That resulted in only four deaths at Kent State. However, the state of our country today is in such turmoil, and the rise of groups such as the White Nationalists, agitators, gun lovers, and racists insert themselves in protests at every opportunity to create even more divisiveness. I suspect that peaceful protests were the aim at first in Minneapolis, then those types infiltrated the original groups.

(Police Station Burns in Minneapolis - KMOV.com)

Most of us have much appreciation for law enforcement. Heroic deeds by most of them go unnoticed on a daily basis. It is a dangerous profession which takes brave individuals to lay their lives on the line. However, there are many "macho" types who go into police work thrilled to be legally carrying a gun and having the opportunities to show their strength and ability to use whatever force necessary to subdue "criminals". No doubt many -- as in all professions -- are racists at heart as well. Statistics bear witness to the fact that minorities far surpass the numbers of arrests, convictions, and residents of our prisons.

Recruitment of policemen should definitely include background checks of their involvement in any suspicious groups. (Maybe they do.) It goes without saying that those such as Derek Chauvin who have multiple complaints about excessive force should not be allowed to continue to serve. 

Of course, it's easy to sit back and observe and judge from the comfort of home and easy chair, watching with criticism what the TV cameras are projecting to our screens. We know that sensationalism is what creates ratings, so they will show enough that raises our hackles. Surely there are nonviolent protests about these horrific deaths. In the meantime, we can pray that something or someone -- certainly not the likes of our President, who does more to incite -- can put out the flames of injustice we are witnessing. Even a 12-year-old understands better than Trump.

Yesterday "Obama said. 'But we have to remember that for millions of Americans, being treated differently on account of race is tragically, painfully, maddeningly ‘normal’ — whether it’s while dealing with the health care system or interacting with the criminal justice system, or jogging down the street, or just watching birds in a park.'"

Words to remember.

Peace..

VARGA FAMILY STORIES - NUMBER I

I have recently heard from my late mother's half-brother I call Uncle Bobby - even though he is much younger than I. My mother's parents divorced when she was very young, and both remarried. My grandfather, Paul Varga, married a woman named Neva (I called her Aunt Neva as a child). They had four children and Bobby was the youngest. James Vernon was their oldest. My mother Viola, and her brother Bill were Granddaddy's first children.

My mother and dad separated and divorced when my sister and I were young. At those times, Mother would send us to live with relatives. Very few wanted to take on two small children at the same time. Granddaddy and Neva agreed two different times in my childhood. They lived at Mt. Shasta, California at the time. 

I have a few memories of those times, and I shared what I remembered with my Uncle Bobby. I told him I feel I don't know enough about my Granddaddy. Bobby answered me with many wonderful stories about him and their lives. I know my children will enjoy hearing about such a different way of life and a great-grandfather that only one of them ever met. This is Story Number One:

GENTLEMAN GRANDDADDY

"Your Granddaddy was the nicest, gentlest man I have ever known. He was polite and respectful to everyone, especially towards all women. However, he demanded respect from other men. The only time I can remember him cussing around Mother was when James Vernon came out of the bedroom into the living room on New Year’s Day, 1953 with your Granddaddy’s old 12-gauge shotgun. Mother, Dad, Evelyn, the cat and I were all lounging around the living room after eating New Year's Dinner, waiting on Mother to get our pie. She had made four different pies that morning and they were all lined up on one of the countertops in the kitchen. 

James Vernon Varga

"James Vernon stood there in the living room by the wood stove, which was burning really good because of the cold weather, and said, 'Well, I’ve got it fixed Dad!' He pumped a round into the chamber and the gun went off! What a loud BLAST!! The cat, which had been sitting on my lap, climbed up my chest, on up my face, launched itself off the top of my head to the ceiling, ran across the ceiling and came down somewhere in the kitchen, and it was GONE! Your Granddaddy said, 'Well, I’ll be God Dammed, James!!'  We all looked at Dad and it got real quiet as the living room started filling up with black soot and smoke, then we all burst out laughing, including your Granddaddy!

"James had shot a big hole through the stove pipe! The blast made a hole through the living room wall, came out the kitchen wall, sprayed all the pies with sheetrock, went through the kitchen ceiling, into the attic and out the roof! 

"Dad got up from his chair and put out the wood stove and went outside in the snow to get new stove pipe and put a tarp on the roof. Mom went into the kitchen and started cleaning up the pies and the mess. James sneaked back into his bedroom to put away his tools and the shotgun, Evelyn and I looked at each other and laughed until we cried. What a wonderful day after eating all that pie!

The highlight really was the cat!"

Uncle Bobby

I laughed quite a bit myself! Thanks a lot, Uncle Bobby.

Stay tuned for Story Number Two.

Peace and love,

Marilyn

SYNCHRONICITY II

It has only been in recent years that I started noticing a unique – to me anyway – series of “synchronicities” in my life. I first wrote about them in 2015. SYNCHRONICITY Some of those I repeat here.

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When I moved to Burnet, Texas in 2009 I met my delightful new neighbors. One family in particular captured my attention when I discovered that the wife, Audrey, had the same name as my first granddaughter Audrey. Then to my surprise it turned out that her husband had the same birthday as mine! November 11. Not the same year of course, as they were a young couple with two little boys close in age to my youngest grandchildren, who often stayed with me and developed a friendship with them. They also had two big Great Danes named Jade and Piper.  I had not heard that name used since the 1950s when a movie star name Piper Laurie was popular.

Vince and Audrey were good neighbors, their children adorable, and the Great Dane Piper and I became great buddies. 

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I moved to Austin in 2012. Imagine my surprise to find out my new landlord’s wife’s name is Piper. They have three beautiful children, and the youngest one’s name is Truman.

I have known of only two others named Truman that I can recall. The first we all know – the former President Harry S. Truman. After living here in Austin for a few years, I found out that one of my former classmates lived nearby in San Antonio. When I was working on a biographical handbook to give to my 1957 high school classmates at our 50th class reunion, there were several that we could not locate after so many years. The one I finally located in San Antonio was named (you guessed it) Truman! We have developed a friendship closer than when we had in high school.

About a month ago, new neighbors moved in next door to me. The husband’s name is Erick and his wife's name is Michelle. It just so happens that of my two oldest granddaughters, one is married to an Erick and the other one is in a loving relationship with her Erik.

A couple of years ago I connected with a distant relative from the Moragne side of my family who lives here in Austin. I discovered her by accident on the internet. Last month I got an email from her telling me that her family was going to celebrate on April 13th, the anniversary of the first Pierre Moragne arriving in the Americas. See AN EASTER BLESSING. This cousin’s name is  Michelle.

(Is the Universe telling me to expect good things from these new neighbors?)

I'm certain there have been many more "coincidences" that I cannot recall at the moment, but one last one.. Until my newest neighbors

moved in next door, I had a delightful friend live there, April is her name. I knew there had to be something synchronous about our friendship when we hit it off so soon after her arrival. Recently, it dawned on me. April's beau is named Oliver.  It just so happens, my first grandchild's middle name is  Oliver!  Now how many people do you know named Oliver?

I know that this is just light-hearted fun for most people. However, I have given thought to my own coincidences and why they might have occurred. Always, they have been accompanied by a blessing or blessings of some kind. Some I may not have recognized at the time, but looking back it's much easier. One of the most recent ones is from my friendship with April. She works from home, and is a gifted technical writer for a government agency. Not very long after we met, she got in a bind with a work overload and needed someone to help out. Just to check her work and do some light proofreading, which I was happy to do. I tried to resist any payment, as being needed for something at my age was really a boost to my self-esteem. However, she paid me generously as well as becoming a dear friend. I really did need the money, and it has enabled me to be something of a blessing to others at times.

Searching for memes regarding synchronicity to accompany this post, all of a sudden one appeared with only the numerals 11:11. As that is my birthday I had to go to the site and read an article regarding it. In all my years, I've never heard that this is supposedly a "spiritual" number. My mind is still trying to absorb some of what I read. This is definitely illuminating, and may be the source for another blog post. 

Happy coincidences,
Marilyn

Springtime During COVID-19

Yours Truly

Son Craig

Last month my family that has descended from the first Pierre Moragne to arrive in early America toasted at the same time the anniversary of that date even though we were all in lockdown mode due to the COVID-19 outbreak. We took these photos to share with other Moragnes across the U.S., each toasting in our own way! Water, iced tea, wine, and beer!

Daughter Carajean

Son Matthew

Yesterday, which was Mother's Day, I was tickled to have all of them show up with their families for porch visits. (Well, almost all of them - minus three of the grandchildren who were not available). They staggered the visits so there was room for all to stay comfortably socially distant. There were lovely flowers and gifts, one of which would surprise most folks.. Son Matthew has turned out to be a fine cook, and for Mother's Day the entree happened to be filet mignon. He surprised me with one of them right off the grill in time for dinner! Matt knows I am complaining of late about having to cook for one... His delicious treat will actually be enough for me to have at least two or three meals! Hint: you don't have to wait for a special occasion to share one of your grilled treats, Matt.

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This is the second year in a row that birds have inhabited the same nest in the eave of my front porch. It's above my front door and visible through a high window in my living room. I've read that birds nesting over your front door means "good luck"! This year as I have been sitting on my sofa more than usual, I watched a pair of little birds coming and going for a few weeks. I was so excited when I saw tiny heads pop up over the edge of the nest. I took the following photo through the glass on the day after Easter. These sweet little ones flew away from their nest one at a time over the next three days.

I searched the bird books in my library without success, seeking to find my resident birds. A Google search of images was of no help either. The nearest to resemble them were barn swallows. Mostly because their nests were similar. When my granddaughter visited yesterday I asked her help on identification. You see, Audrey - among her many talents - is a "birder"! Here's a photo of her in 2013 with bird in hand!

As we all sat on my front porch yesterday, the little mama bird flew from one tree to another in the yard. She was visibly upset that we were so close to her nest, and she was fearful to approach it until after everyone left. Audrey had easily identified it as an Eastern Phoebe! This is what the adult looks like.

 

(I wish I had been able to photograph it, but when I took my photo for the family toast I dropped my camera and broke it!!)

She was obviously nesting again. Imagine my surprise this morning when I saw a little head pop up as the adult bird flew up to the nest.. bug in beak! She already has another brood. Less than a month after the first ones fledged, there is at least one new chick in the same nest. 

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I love to see the significance of events relating to the circumstances of our lives. As so much sickness and death happening in the world today tends to depress us, how life-affirming it is to watch new birth occurring in nature. Trees and flowers budding and birds hatching in the tiny world I'm confined to lift my spirits. 

Celebrating ancestors and family and sharing so much love, it's almost impossible to believe anything so catastrophic as the COVID-19 pandemic is swirling around us. Believe it we must. At least until a cure or vaccine is available. Until then, treasure your porch or yard visits, stay home if at all possible, and when you must go out, wear your masks and keep a safe distance as required. 

Look for the goodness surrounding us on a daily basis. You cannot help but notice the kindness being demonstrated by so many. Even commercials have a quiet peacefulness to them (except for a few loud insurance, car, attorney, and pharmaceutical ads - one really cannot miss them). The generosity of so many corporations and individuals, both private and celebrities is heartwarming. The creativity exhibited by people stuck at home gives one faith that we will survive and be better for the isolation. Everything is changing, and will be permanently changed, I think for the better. 

(New Scientist)

While we count our blessings living in the United States, let's don't forget the third-world countries. I fear that we have not been shown enough of their sufferings. Imagine not having running water, much less enough food to eat. They need more than our prayers, they need as much in the way of donations as we can spare.

Share your thoughts of your experiences during this time of difficulty. This may be the most historical event you will live through. Write them down - the good and the bad. You'll feel better for it. In the meantime, smell the flowers and listen to the birds sing.

Peace, love, and good health,

Marilyn

AN EASTER BLESSING

Easter Morning over Lake Travis

Before I got out of bed Sunday morning, my daughter sent me a text with these photos, taken from her deck. What an inspiration,  so badly needed today - the day of resurrection celebrated by Christians the world over. The rainbow is a symbol of hope and healing in many cultures.

As our family is closely following shelter-in-place guidelines, we wished each other a Happy Easter via texts and emails. I watched a church service on TV. It happened to be a "rerun", but it was all about surviving difficult challenges in life. A good topic for now. As I was busy with church, then more texts and emails, I missed someone sneaking onto my porch. A little later I saw through the blinds a blue cup. I darted out quickly (as I was still in my pajamas) and retrieved the object. I was surprised to see it was filled with candy and a small book. I washed my hands carefully after taking the book out. There was no name attached or written on the book to indicate my secret admirer.

I spent some time contacting all of my children to see if they had left it...no. I asked one of my neighbors if she left it...no. All efforts exhausted, I have come to the conclusion that it was left by a child.

The top two candies are Ring Pops - something a child might receive in his or her Easter basket.  A mama must have assisted by putting

in the small book. It happens to be an excerpt of a book on near-death experiences (NDEs) by NYT best-selling author John Burke, from his book Imagine Heaven. Don't you just love the synchronicities of life? A book on people who have experienced death and come back, given to me on "resurrection" Sunday. John also happens to be a minister here in Austin.

Maybe the gift is from my new neighbors next door who have two little  boys ages 4-years and 7-years. Or the two little girls down the block who last fall sold me candy to help their school. I may not find out until we are freed from the fear of COVID-19, as I have no way of contacting them. At any rate, I thank them very much for sharing their Easter goodies with me.

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Speaking of the dreadful Coronavirus spreading around the globe, we are blessed with so many people pitching in to help any way they can. Medical professionals, grocers and the myriad of people getting the food to our tables - farmers, truckers, cashiers, delivery people - all putting their own lives at risk. My daughter-in-law Amy and my youngest granddaughter Kelly have been staying busy making face masks for the following group:

I am so proud of both of them for thinking of others in this difficult
time we are experiencing. These will be good memories of "paying it forward" for young Kelly years from now. She will always remember being a "Covid Ranger".

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A couple of years ago I discovered a distant relative on my father's Moragne side of the family. She lives here in Austin, and although we haven't met in person yet, we have shared a bit of family history. She sent me the following:

"My dad isn't too happy with his current cognitive decline, but at 98 - and turning 99 in June - I think he's doing pretty well! He dictated this to me so I could set it up on the page well and send it out to our immediate family. Enjoy!

Moragné History Alert

"On July 30, 1763, Pierre Moragné of St. Avit de Tizac in the Montravel area near St. Foy on the Dordogne River traveled in the middle of the night to Royan on the coast of France with approximately 200 fellow Huguenots. They caught a ship to England where they stayed until they could get passage across the Atlantic to the Americas. They arrived on the rising tide in Charleston, SC on April 14, 1764.

"So, this coming Tuesday, April 14th will be the 256th anniversary of the arrival of the first Moragné in the New World.

"I suggest we all savor a decent French wine at some time on that date. That area of the Dordogne is primarily a red wine appellation, but I feel sure the old Huguenot would not be offended if you prefer a white, rosé, or champagne."

Signed,

"Candidate Presumptive for Eldest New World Moragné"

AKA John Hutchins Moragne

I think he is doing very well, indeed!

To which my oldest child, Craig, responded:

"I would actually prefer a nice dry Beaujolais if I was forced to drink wine. I'll raise my tea glass, nevertheless."

*******************************

(Capt. CSA) Isaac Pierre Moragne - Father of John William Moragne (My Great-Great-Grandfather)

It is pleasing to me to note that he was "..a Democrat..and quite a politician (who) took an active part in everything connected with his state and locality. ..he went twice to the (Alabama) Legislature."..."Moragnes in America".. Howard and Quinn

His political nature has passed down to more than one of my children and grandchildren!

Cheers!

Marilyn