Another Saturday Night Story: January 2007


Saturday, January 27, 2007

Go Now......Out Of Iraq

Kelly Casilio, dressed as a U.S. soldier, stands silently at an anti-Iraq war protest in Boston, Massachusetts January 11, 2007. The numbers on Casilio's face represent the number of U.S. soldiers killed in the war.
The War in Iraq continues. Seven more of our troops killed today. Yes.........there was a huge demonstration in Washington today. This demonstration was unique, with Hollywood actors, and with Jane Fonda attending. She said it was her first demonstration against a War in 35 years.
At the rally, 12-year-old Moriah Arnold stood on her toes to reach the microphone and tell the crowd: "Now we know our leaders either lied to us or hid the truth. Because of our actions, the rest of the world sees us as a bully and a liar." After Moriah spoke on behalf of those concerned, I really don't think there is much more to be said, in my opinion she said it all.
The State of Kansas is probably one of the most conservative States in the country. Kansas State legislators rallied this week to send a private memo to President Bush, very short and sweet, "Get the Hell Out".

I really like some of the signs that were at todays demonstration.

Bush..................Custer and Mr. Magoo were better deciders than you!
Democracy is the will of the people..............not the will of the president.
Kill one person and it's murder.....Kill thousands and its foriegn policy!
Still lying!!.....Stop lying!!
Yes to God...No to torture!
Words of Mass Deception
Lying is not Leadership............Impeach Bush & Cheney

I keep telling my brother, two more died, then 4 more died, and then 7 more died. No one is keeping track. Will they be remembered? What a waste of young men so talented. They had there whole lives ahead of them. I can tell you the brotherhood of the Marines will remember, "Farewell Marine".

Song of the Week
Mary Gauthier sings some very deep and dark songs. But whether we like it or not, she speaks the truth. One of my favorites is "Mercy Now".
Have a Good Week

Saturday, January 20, 2007

In the News

Democratic Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton entered the 2008 U.S. presidential race

Yes...........I am ready for a woman President..............are you? A woman can be a better pacifier, be the devils advocate, play cat and mouse, much better than any man. I think Washington needs a good enema, what better way to wake up these yes men politicians than vote in a woman. At Least we will finally have someone who will listen to the American people, with passion and sensitivity. One piece of advice for Hillary, and the same advice I gave to one of my lady manager colleagues. Find the biggest, and meanest man you can to stock your store, and watch your back. Im sure Hillary can be mean when she wants to be, but you always need back up. Besides, it would be entertaining to know that Bill is doing the cooking now! I would also like to see Gena Davis as Vice President. If you have ever watched Gena in any interviews, you will know she is pure CLASS!

U.S. helicopter down in Iraq, all 13 aboard dead

This makes me sick. There was a total of twenty US troops killed today in Iraq. The most recent election was overwhelming in telling the President to get out of Iraq. Republicans voted out of office in almost every state. Do you think this administration got the message...............Heck No!!!.................we are sending another 20,000 troops to Iraq. In 1968, Walter Cronkite anchored the CBS Evening News. Each night there was a body count for that day and a total dead for the duration of the Vietnam War. They dont do this anymore........why?..........because the media doesn't get that information anymore. That information is suppressed now days until our government decides that it is comfortable acknowledging our loses.
There is a National Geographic Special on Sunday Night, "Iraqs Guns for Hire". About mercenary soldiers doing missions in Iraq, that quite frankly, our government can't. Should be interesting.

Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie

They are moving to New Orleans. These people are for real. They obviously hate Hollywood, and are sick of the rederick. I believe they are truly humanitarians. What better place to live than NO. Besides they need to get to know my sister Abby and her husband Frank who live in the French Quarters. They know everyone there, Brad and Angelina will be know different. I miss those fresh oysters on the halve shell, a large Hurricane drink, and the street musicians. I love the "Mile High Pie" also, from the Poncetrain.

Song of the Week

It is snowing cats and dogs here. We will get over 8 inches since this morning. How bout this old song. Brooks Benton, "Rainy night in Georgia".

Saturday, January 13, 2007

Oklahoma Land Run, 1892

This is a early photo of settlers waiting for the "Run of 1892" in Clinton, Ok.

Tonight I would like to finish writing about that great journey my Grandfather, Lloyd M. Rice, and my Great Grandfather, Boone C. Rice, made in 1889. Their migration from Polk County, Mo., to the Rice homestead, outside Elk City, Ok., in Roger Mills County, was not an easy one. The migration of families is the most important part of what built America. Our country built from East to West. The Rice(Rhys) family from Wales to England, then to Jamestown in 1656. From there, the family seeds follow lands opened to the West into Kentucky by Daniel Boone, then to Missouri, and Illinois, which became public domain after the Louisiana Purchase. Now, Boone C. Rice compelled to move his family to the last unoccupied, and uninhabited lands left in America. These are my thoughts after reading and researching what Lloyd M. Rice wrote about what happen so many years ago.

Prior to the passage of the Organic Act of 1890, an Indian Commission of three men were appointed to work with the Indians and persuade them to take their lands by allotment. The surplus would then be opened for settlement. The Indian Commission worked with the Cheyenne and Arapaho tribes at Fort Sill for several years, and finally the Jerome Agreement was signed. The Tribes were allotted their homesteads, and the remainder of the rest of the area would be available for settlement by others. The lands of the Cheyenne - Arapaho country were to be decided by a "land run", a race for claims in the reservation. This run was held April 19, 1892.

There were some prominent stock men (cattlemen) in the Walnut Grove township, Polk County MO. I believe Boone C. Rice , according to Goodspeeds Biography, made frequent trips to Texas to sell cattle, or mules, selling to the Southern Market, and then returning to Missouri. Then eventually, I believe is why he settled in Roger Mills County, Ok. To homestead a cattle ranch. By 1880, there were no more cattle drives to be found. Moving cattle was now in the hands of the great railroad system. The Railroad had bypassed the town of Orleans, Mo., close to where Boone lived. Eventually Orleans became non-existent. Boone is now forty-five years old, but he needed to move on. Boone brought his cattle with him to Oklahoma in 1889. They lived in tents for almost two years, in the Arbuckle Indian Territory, close to Purcell, Ok., and then participated in the "Oklahoma Run", in 1892. During this time he leased land to grow feed for his cattle. Lloyd M. Rice wrote " In a few minutes he (Boone) came back to the second wagon, pulled by four horses and driven by my twin brother. The wheel horse was saddled and one of us rode it while the other drove. Sometimes one rode a horse and herded the cattle following behind the wagons", "The Land is again a cattle ranch. However, there are no small boys chasing coyotes to their dens in this modern age". To put this in perspective, Lloyd and Leslie were only five or six years old when they made this trip. Here was one twin boy on a horse, and the other twin pulling at the reins of a covered wagon.

Even though the "Run" had been announced in 1889, due to government bureaucracy, the run did not take place till 1892. There were problems getting some of the Indians off the land, and some of the Indians got first choice of properties, which had to be formalized. The land also had to be surveyed, which took a substantial amount of time. Maybe Boone thought it was going to happen quickly, which it didn’t, but at any rate, they lived there in limbo for some time. I have been told by reliable sources, that almost twenty-five thousand settlers lined on the Texas side of the territory, and they ran south to north. The U.S, Calvary was there, and fired the gun to start the "Run", and yes, there were those who jumped the gun, now called "Sooner’s". It would be almost another fifteen years before any roads were built around Roger Mills County. When Boone settled on the land, they made a "dugout" to live in until they built the house.

When, my brother Tim, and my father visited there in the mid-seventies, the old dugout was still visible, the windmill was still standing. It must have taken months getting the lumber to the land to build the home. The lumber was hauled one hundred and fifty miles from the end of the railroad. It is overwhelming for me to think of this land with no roads, no fences, wild prairie grass growing to shoulder length while on horseback. It would be another fifteen years before this land was even to become a state.
From Judy Tracy, Roger Mills County
Prior to our Land run, we were cordoned off in quarter sections (160 acres) and then Cheyenne was made into town lots. The Cheyenne and Arapaho Indians were given first choice of their 160 acres and paid $75, in 1891, because they were here first. Basically the land run began when the Cavalry men (who had been here for a year or more getting things ready) shot their guns in the air all along the lines. The lines were on the north of County "F" (our county prior to the government being formed here who later named the county Roger MIlls in 1893) and on the east it ran north south through Ft. Reno (El Reno of today which is located just west of Oklahoma City) and on the south down to Old Greer County and on the west at the Texas line. Prior to our statehood, November 16, 1907, our Roger Mills County included Beckham County and half of Ellis County of today. Beckham County was not established until November, 1907.

The Great Western Cattle Trail
When driving between Lone Wolf in Kiowa County and Granite in Greer County, on Highway 9, or west out of Sentinel on Highway 55, even the natives of the area has trouble imagining six million Texas Longhorn cattle with hundreds of trail bosses, chuckwagons, and remudas of 40 to 50 horses ambling through and grazing contentedly in the lush, green grass during the period from 1866 until 1885. In addition to the many enormous drives, cattle herds also traveled in fewer numbers until 1892 when homesteaders located and began fencing Oklahoma Territory. Local lore and history tells about the Great Western Trail traversing this area with it's origin at Bandera, Texas, just to the NW of San Antonio, about 450 miles south of the Red River, and it's destination of Dodge City, Kansas, about 45 miles north of Indian Territory. Some historians called the trail the old Doan Trail, because it crossed the Red River at Doan's crossing. Others called it the Old Dodge City Trail, because it ended at Dodge City. Some even confused it with the Chisholm or Chisum Trail, which actually lay further east near El Reno. Oklahoma State Highway Department called it the Old Texas Trail on their map published in 1933.

The Great Western cattle Trail was only a few miles west of Elk City, and the Rice Homestead. After the land had been settled in 1892, there were others who used the old trail. Lloyd M. Rice wrote: Father had a windmill on the place, which furnished an everlasting stream of pure, cold water. So, all the freighters, all the hunters of homes, all the outlaws, all the people who were running from "you guess what" came by our different times we met Frank and Jesse James, Temple Houston and others who were nameless. They stopped, drank our water, watered their horses and slept in my fathers house, ate his bread and went on their way.
Song of the Week
Who would have thought that my favorite song in the whole wide world would have been from a band from my hometown of Springfield, Mo. The Ozark Mountain Daredevils were very popular during the seventies, with alot of big hits. I even knew some of the bandmembers, afterall, they went to the same high school I did. I never thought they would have written a song for veterans. This song "Standing on the Rock", almost sounds Gospel. Well, I guess it is to me.
Have a Good Week

Saturday, January 06, 2007


My Grandfather was Llloyd McMehen Rice who married my Grandmother Ira Belle Word. The records from LDS, and the Social Security index indicate that Lloyd Rice was born June 14 1886. I believe this to be untrue. The following notes left by my Grandfather, include short stories of the Rice family journey from Polk County, Mo, to the Arbuckle Territory of Oklahoma in 1889. From these writings, himself, and his twin brother Leslie drove the wagon, and mustered the cattle from behind during this journey. He had served in WWI, and when all of his sons had been sent off to War during WWII, he himself enlisted again, lieing about his age. I suspect my Grandfather was born around 1880 or 1882, five years prior to his birth date given to the Social Security Administration.
I remember my Mamaw and Pappy as very kind and gentle people. Mamaw would always have a candy dish for the kids. You guessed it!! Filled to the rim with lemon drops. I remember when I was twelve or fourteen years old, spending some time with Pappy. We went fishing everyday. He drove that old red Ford Galaxie to Lake Hefner in Oklahoma City. He would wear beige pants and a red and white plaid shirt, and he wore this big straw hat. We would pack a lunch, and he would pack a beer, or two. We would stop and get minnows, but he preferred the old "Catfish Charlie" stink bait most of the time. We never caught a fish. But we enjoyed the sun and wind hitting our face. He would tell fish stories about the big ones that got away, and give a hand gesture to his forearm to show the length of the fish. This was a lot of work for a man in his seventies. I know he enjoyed every minute of his time out fishing. I remember Mamaw had this coffee table with a glass top, and kept pictures of all us kids there, it was always full of new pictures. Pappy had this old standing ash tray with the Masonic Emblem on it, and of course there was always a pack of Pall Mall cigarettes there too. I suppose he smoked till the day he died.
These words to follow written by my Grandfather and transcribed later by my Uncle Jack, will always be embedded in my mind. I have read it many times over the years, and each time, the stories, giving me a different visualization of the good times and hard times, the old and the new. A different story is found each time I read these musings. Daniel Rice

These words were written in longhand, with pencil, by my father....during the days after his 80th year. He gave them to me in a small black memo book and ask me to type them for him. I am sorry I did not get them finished before he went to see, "The Old Man with the Long White Whiskers" during his 84th year.....God Bless Him!
Lloyd M. Rice Jr.

July of 1979

Lloyd McMehen Rice Sr.
June 1, 1886 - July 3, 1970
The West was won by a Man on a horse. Here he is. I hope you like him. He is on a horse, a big black horse. A horse named Tom. Tom is tall, leggy and the kind of black that doesn't fade with the seasons.
The Man is also tall. More than six feet, He wears "Duckins" and a faded shirt covered by a black vest. He wears a slouchy white hat. Booted feet are in stirrups. Under that slouchy, dirty hat is a bearded face and VERY blue eyes.
As he rides Tom across a green valley, he stops at the top of a red hill. He can see for miles down the valley and stands in the stirrups and looks in all directions. He must have liked what he saw, as he said to himself. "Yes, this will do. I will go for my family and my cows."
He often talked to himself. He looked back over his shoulder and promised these red hills that he would be back.
This is the way it was. I was there. The Man was my father.
Somewhere among these scribblings you will learn how we stopped and stayed among those red hills. Here I spent my boyhood, my youth and my young manhood.
It was a raw and untamed country in those days, but to me and mine it was and still is the most wonderful country in the whole wide world! Yes, the West was won by a Man on a horse .... followed by a Man with a plow, a team of mules and a roll of barbed wire¼..and that ended the cattle range.
In spite of what you may be thinking, the Man we saw on the big black horse did not wear a "six-gun" on his hip. He rode with a 44 carbine Winchester in a gun boot on the side of his saddle.

"What did Delilah do with her shears after she gave Samson his haircut?"

The house on the Old Homestead sat a short distance off the old "Cheyenne Trail" over which all the freight for all the country North and West of there was "freighted". There were no fences, no bridges and the trail followed the "divides" between the creeks, canyons and rivers. It started always at the end of the railroad and went North and West, right by our Homestead.
Father had a windmill on the place, which furnished an everlasting stream of pure, cold water. So, all the freighters, all the hunters of homes, all the outlaws, all the people who were running from "you guess what" came by our Homestead¼ different times we met Frank and Jesse James, Temple Houston and others who were nameless. They stopped, drank our water, watered their horses and slept in my fathers house, ate his bread and went on their way.
Let me sit on the banks of a lake with a fishing rod in my hand. Let the wind blow around me and let the sun shine in my face.
Have you ever watched a gull or a tern fall straight down out of the sky like a rock falling and come up from the water with a fish in his claw?

Genesis: ll.1 " And the whole earth was of one language and of one speech."
While you are running this mad rat-race that we call life, you had better slow down once in a while and look behind. The Old Man with the Long White Whiskers and the Scythe may be gaining on you!

May the Good Lord hold you in the hollow of his hand, make your trail all down hill may the sun shine in your face and the wind stay at your back.
Our Lord rode into Jerusalem on the back of a borrowed Burro...was crucified, died and was buried in a borrowed grave.

Someone has said that Man's life span is "three score years and ten". Today I reached four score. During these four score years I have done and seen many different things. I have lived in a dugout with dirt floors, walls and roof. I have lived in a tent. I have lived out-of-doors with only the ground at my back and the sky for a roof. I have lived in rat-holes .... sometimes called "apartments". .... So what, "Four score years"!!!???
I have fed cattle in blinding snow and sleet storms! Walked a hundred miles, leading a saddled horse to keep from freezing to death So what, "Four score years"!!!???
I have ridden many miles through dust storms, looking for a recognizable Landmarking; many miles along drift fences looking for shelter, and finally found it...So what, "Four score years"!!!???
I have ridden all day looking for water for me and my horse ....finally finding a spring...poisoned. So what "Four score years"!!!???
I have been thrown off a freight train in the dead of night and walked till daylight and then asked for breakfast at a back door...So what, "Four score years"!!!???
I have attempted to ride broncos that no one else would try...and landed on my face in the dirt. I have fished and hunted through all these years and have loved every day of it. I have worked for others, and have owned and operated my own business. I have worked for my government. I have proudly worn the uniform of my country, together with my three grown sons and the husbands of my two daughters, and we all made it back home again. Some were a little the worse for wear, but we all made it….So what, "Four Score years"!!!???
Today I live in a modern house with the same woman I started with more than sixty-two years ago, and I still have my three sons and two daughters, with fifteen grandchildren and one great grandson. Today I mow my own lawn, help care for the flowers, raise a small garden and go fishing every day the sun shines and there is beer in the ice-box!! So what,
"Four Score years"!!!???

I wonder what became of the little boy who gave our Savior the loaves and fishes which he Used to feed the MULTITUDE????
May the Lord bless you and everyone in your house.

Since three-fourths of the Earth's surface is water, and only one-fourth is is clear to me that the Good Lord intended that man should spend three times as much time fishing as he does mowing the lawn.

Our Arrival in a New World
The sun was still a couple of hours high on a warm winter day, father, who was driving the lead covered wagon, stopped his team. He climbed down over the front wheels of the wagon, walked out a few yards onto a small hill and looked out over the rolling prairie. He pointed to a cottonwood tree about fifty yards away to the North. He came back to the wagon and helped my mother to the ground and walked her to the tree. In a few minutes he came back to the second wagon, pulled by four horses and driven by my twin brother. The wheel horse was saddled and one of us rode it while the other drove. Sometimes one rode a horse and herded the cattle following behind the wagons. He told us to follow him and we drove past the tree to a bit of higher ground and camped. There was a spring near the tree. We unhitched the horses, hobbled them and other loose stock, and put up the tent. My mother spread the benches in the tent and we soon had a good fire going, using wood brought from the previous night's camp. We checked the animals after a good supper, prepared over the campfire and then we all, my youngest brother inside the tent with Mother and Dad, the rest of us outside, went to sleep. Little did we know that we would spend the next year and a half in this camp in Roger Mills County, Oklahoma.
My father put one-by-twelve boards around the tent on the ground and piled dirt against them to keep the wind and water outside. He also put a 'brush arbor' over the front entrance for some shade. We placed a small enclosure inside a single barbed-wire fence to hold the animals. Our father rented forty acres from a homesteader who lived a bit East of us and planted it in feed for the horses and cattle.
And so, with a few improvements, such as cleaning out the spring under the cottonwood tree and making an enclosure to keep some chickens (which my Mother got from a settler), we "settled in" our new home.
Thus, our tall, blue-eyed father and our short, black-eyed mother established a home, as many other settlers were doing in that year of 1892. It was a long way from Missouri.

We children did not know, nor did we care, that our father would go a few miles West of the 'tree camp' and homestead one hundred and sixty acres...and that we would build a real home (after a year and a half in the camp) in the edge of the "Red Hill" country of Roger Mills. On this claim, we three boys spent the remainder of our boyhood and most of our youth.
After this claim was completed and we were grown (almost), I met a neighbor girl, married her and, after three children born on this original homestead, we left...but that is another story.

More, SHADOWS OVER MY SHOULDER, continued .....

We three boys, my twin brother and myself and the 'little one', grew to manhood on the old homestead. Then they drifted away. .oh, they returned for visits often, but they never lived there again.
It seems like we lived on the old ranch for a lot of years (we still own it) and I try and go back at least once each year and look around. It seems that the red hills get higher and the canyons get deeper every time
I see it. But, I have never seen a more beautiful country than this in the spring, with the hills covered with prairie flowers, the hills always seem to me to be looking for someone...could it be three small boys chasing coyotes on painted ponies? Between the hills are the green valleys where the best grass in the world grows. I remember when it grew as high as the shoulder of a boy on a pony. As I stop my car on a hill overlooking the site of the old ranch house, the hills and the valleys resemble a varicolored saddle-blanket spread out over the world. As I sit in this modern machine that covers more ground in a day than the old wagons did in months, I get a wave of homesickness. I look, but I cannot see, three small boys who lived, worked, rode and played among these same age-old hills so long ago. Here they grew to manhood: the freckled twin and the youngest went out into the world from here. They lived their lives and are both buried far from the red hills they both loved so much. My tall, blue-eyed father and my short black-eyed mother are buried in the old country graveyard just a few miles from the old ranch...I stop and say hello to them each time I go back. Most of the old neighbors (pioneers), who made the land what it has become, are buried with them. The land is again a cattle ranch. However, there are no small boys chasing coyotes to their dens in this modern age.

YEAH !!!!
News reports say Dallas "resents" Ruby. Resenting seems to be the biggest thing Dallas does. First, it was Vice President Lyndon Johnson and his wife. THEY were "resented" so much that the people pushed and shoved them, knocked their hats off and trampled on them. They "resented" Adlai Stevenson, one of the greatest workers for world peace we ever had, Dallas "resented" him so much that they manhandled him, slapped his face and spat in his face. Then one of the Dallas "resenters" bought a rifle, some ammo and a sandwich, sat down in an easy chair and, as the President of the United States drove by, he shot him dead. Now they "resent" Ruby, one of the head "resenters".' Resenting is the biggest thing Dallas does...Big D...Big R!

Here is what I saw six small bottles of catsup do:
On the first trip we made to the new country, my twin brother and I drove four horses hitched to a covered wagon. One of us rode the 'left wheel horse' and drove the team of lead horses. Our father drove a two-team hitch pulling a covered wagon ahead of us. On this day, Father became uncertain of the trail, (as it could not be called a road). We finally met a tribe of Indians, Cheyenne’s, moving everything they owned on "wicki-wakis" behind their ponies. Father attempted to talk with them about the "road". They refused to talk. We finally came to where the trail divided, one going Northwest and the other due West. We finally came to a Indian Trading Post, our fellow travelers still not talking. At that time it was known as "Seger's Post". Today it is the site of the town of Colony, Oklahoma. We stopped at the store and my father bought six bottles of catsup. Stepping to the side of the trail, he held out a bottle of bright red mixture. The first Indian to pass attempted to grab the bottle. My father finally gave it to him. .and, after the brave had drunk the catsup, held up a second bottle, and gave him the catsup only after talking for awhile. After the sixth bottle had been disposed of, my father had talked to a number of Indians and decided he had learned the correct trail to where we were going. Afterwards, he remembered he might have purchased the entire reservation for one more bottle of catsup!!!
We lived for several years near the reservation and they called my father "Man with Whiskers Good Brother". We three boys rode with the young Indians all over the countryside.

Do you believe in dreams?
During World War I, when my twin brother was in France and stationed at a base hospital near Verdun, site of one of the longest and bitterest campaigns of that terrible war, where "They did not pass". While he was there (I did not know where he was) I had the same dream night after night. I could see my brother walking along a bluff above a stream of deep, black water, The trail was slippery and the side of the bluff was covered with large stones and strung with barbed wire. At the crest of this bluff, fighting for his footing, I seemed to see my brother (I was in a tree). As I reached for him I never reached him...he never fell, but a hundred times I thought he would...this was a recurring dream, every night for months. Finally, I received a long delayed letter from my brother. He had moved on. After returning home in the Fall of 1918, he spent some time with me. I described my dream. He said that he knew exactly where it was (the bluff), just below the base personnel were forbidden to go there, but he and some others went, to get away from the war for a time. They slipped down and looked around. He was told that 1,000 men had died attempting to climb that bluff!! After the first visit, he said they never went back again.
Do you believe in dreams? Neither do I!!!

When my work is ended and I am called by the Lord...Grand Architect of the Universe (Masonic), to cross that river to "that home of many mansions not made by human hands". HE will find me sitting in peace, "under my own vine and fig tree"

Last week I stood on the site of the old ranch house where I grew up and spent the last part of my boyhood, my young manhood, married and started my own family.
There is nothing there now, just some large stones are all that is left of the foundation of the original "shack"; the lumber of which it was built was hauled one hundred and fifty miles from the end of the railroad. As I sat there, on one of the stones, my thoughts went back a lot of years. Where I sat people had been born and had died...long gone, they had laughed, talked and suffered. Here, "once upon a time", my father, mother and three half-grown boys had stopped for a place to call "Home".
Here we had "pitched camp" and my father and mother lived out their lives. Two of those half-grown boys are now gone. I, alone, am left to sit on a stone and "remember". As often as I can, I visit this "site of what was once a home". On my way out, I stop at the "grass-grown" and wind swept hill where, with many other pioneers, my father and my mother are buried. You would, perhaps, say it was a wild and lonely place, but to me, it is BEAUTIFUL. It is covered with the original stone and in summer, brown in winter…wild it it was in the beginning. My people and all those other pioneers would have it no other way.

Another thing: What became of the little burro that Mary rode from Nazareth to Bethlehem? Or the Swine that "dined on husks with the Prodigal Son? Or the "little" man that climbed a sycamore tree to see his Lord? Or the Roman Soldier that lost his ear in a meeting with Peter?

Who stole the rock I sat on while I ate a "bowl of beans"? Who sawed off the limb the Wise Old Owl sat on for so many years?
Song of the Week
This is an old tune, somewhat melancholy, and reminds of those fishing days with my Fathers. America "Old man Took".

Have a Good Week