Posts Tagged "Nebraska"

Cowboys in the Park

Posted by on Jul 23, 2016 in Blog, Home Is Where The Story Starts |

Cowboys in the Park

In honor of National Day of the Cowboy, I am digging out an old piece. This was written originally for the Newberry Observer as a column. Then, it made it into both of my non-fiction books. Enjoy! Cowboys in the Park It’s not like I was hurting for something to do last Friday. I had a huge list of tasks that needed accomplished and a class for work on Saturday, so I really needed to stay home and put my nose to the grindstone.   However, once I saw the notice in the paper that the concert in the park downtown was Cowboy Music I knew there was nothing on the list that couldn’t wait—or wouldn’t have to.   When I got to the park I couldn’t believe my eyes. There were cowboy hats in the town square. Cowboy hats on people wearing jeans and cowboy boots. I could feel my heart rate jump. I picked a park bench close to the microphones. I wanted to hear every word.   Oh my. For the next hour I sat and alternately resisted the urge to jump up and twirl across the grass like a child unable to contain her joy, or sit and wail because I missed my family, especially my Grandpa Jones.   They sang a lot of the old cowboy songs and the crowd sang along. I heard comments about memories from the picture show when they were children. My memories were a bit different.   I remembered helping Grandpa saddle Brownie, the horse he kept for the grandkids to ride. I remembered riding with Grandpa to get some cows in and having my glasses knocked off my face when I failed to see a branch. I remembered watching hours of the old westerns on TV on Sunday afternoons at Grandpa and Grandma’s ranch. They all paraded through my head.   When they sang a song by “Grandpa Jones” from the Hee Haw TV show I laughed because my Grandpa Jones loved watching that show. When they sang a song asking where the cowboys have gone I wanted to stand up and shout, “THEY ARE STILL THERE!”   I thought of my cousin Gordon, riding across the Sandhills of Nebraska on his horse as he works his ranch. I wished every one of those people there could see a real cowboy, on a real ranch. I felt like I knew something they didn’t know. I felt blessed.   It was cool—one of those two nice days—and there was a chilly breeze. If I closed my eyes I could imagine myself in Nebraska or South Dakota. By the middle of the concert I was shivering but I certainly wasn’t going to get up and go anywhere.   I was right where I wanted to be, enjoying an evening in Nebraska and South Dakota right here in downtown Newberry, South...

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Where In The World Has She Been?–Missing in Action

Posted by on Jul 2, 2016 in Blog, Home Is Where The Story Starts, Uncategorized |

Where In The World Has She Been?–Missing in Action

It has been far too long since I posted here. Every weekend and Wednesday it has been on my to-do list. Yet, no posts. I’ve thought of ideas that came and went. But yet, nothing. So, here in pictures is my past month!       So there you have it. A pictorial diary. Look for upcoming opportunities to get your copy of the newest book here and on my Facebook page. It is available in online stores as well!        ...

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Ocean or Prairie View – Home Is Where You Make It

Posted by on Jan 21, 2016 in Blog, Home Is Where The Story Starts | 2 comments

I have this picture for the background on my phone. I put it there this autumn after our trip to South Dakota, Nebraska, and Kansas. It reminds me of home. Let me tell you why. When I am at the ocean I have no problem waking up early. Most mornings I wake up automatically, while it is still dark. I don’t want to miss the sunrise. Oh, I’m not necessarily waiting for that moment when the sun creeps over the edge of the horizon, although I have to admit that the first pinpoint of orange does make my heart beat faster. “Here it comes! Good morning, Sunshine!” I love sunshine. No, the effect I like actually comes before the sunrise. It also comes just after sunset. It is the pastel phase. There is a blue, pink, peach, gray and green haze along the horizon that is just breathtaking. The colors mute together and remind of an impressionistic painting, my favorite type. As the sun comes or goes the colors continually change, but in such slow motion you hardly notice until BAM, there comes the sun. Then it changes all over again. It is incredible. In November we were driving from Rapid City, SD to Gordon, NE. Shortly after crossing the state line the sun set. I started snapping pictures with my cell phone. It was so beautiful, there on the edge of the Sandhills. So much wide-open space. Kind of like the ocean. I flipped back through the pictures and one caught my eye. It reminded me of. . .  no, it couldn’t be. But it was. It reminded me of the ocean. I stared at it. Then I knew. It was the colors. The blue, grey, pink, peach of the dusk. The brown of the winter grass contrasted with those colors and they stood out. Just like they do at the beach when they contrast with the sand along the beach. I smiled to myself. Maybe this is one reason I feel so much at home at the ocean, even though I did not grow up anywhere near one. Maybe it is like the quote from Sarah Plain and Tall, one of my favorite movies. There she is on the prairie, thousands of miles from her beloved ocean yet she, with the help of young Caleb, discovers a similarity. Caleb Witting: What color is the sea when it storms? Sarah Wheaton: Blue and gray and green. Caleb Witting: Now I know what’s missing from your drawing. Colors. Colors of the sea, blue and gray and green. So, maybe the prairie didn’t remind me of the ocean. Maybe it’s the ocean reminding me of the prairie. Either way, either place I am, it feels like home. And that reminds me of the words of advice Uncle Jim gave me when I married. “Home is where you make it, Miriam.” Yes. Yes, it...

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Goldenrods and My Faith

Posted by on Sep 11, 2013 in Blog, Home Is Where The Story Starts, Uncategorized |

Goldenrods and My Faith

“Aren’t those yellow flowers beautiful?” I pointed out the window of the pick-up at the mass of wildflowers in the ditches alongside the road. “They’re all along the road up the mountain too.” I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the glorious yellow flowers as I’ve driven back and forth to Hendersonville the past few weeks, and here were more of them between Newberry and Banner Elk. “Those are goldenrod,” Bruce said. “They are terrible allergens.” My mouth dropped open. “Goldenrod? That’s the state flower in Nebraska. What’s it doing out here?” And then, it happened. Yes, if you know me and my love of Nebraska, you will know what happened next. I started singing. There I was, riding through the North Carolina foothills singing Beautiful Nebraska at the top of my lungs.                                     Beautiful Nebraska, peaceful prairie land. Laced with many rivers, and the hills of sand.   Then I realized what I was doing and I stopped. You see, the song and the Nebraska lore are so deeply engrained in my mind that it is automatic. I don’t even think about it. I just sing. After all, I spent eighteen years of my life in Nebraska. But I wasn’t in Nebraska. Just singing the Nebraska song didn’t change my location. For that I would need to get in a car or hop on a plane and head west. Yesterday on my walk I saw more goldenrods all along the path to the park and it started me thinking. It struck me that my Christian upbringing has similarities to the goldenrod influenced outburst of Sunday evening. Bible verses and hymns are the stuff of my childhood. When I hear the word “joy” a song immediately jumps into my mind. Many phrases pull a verse up from my subconscious. But, the truth is just having a culture of spiritual songs and scriptures isn’t enough. That doesn’t make me a Christian. No, that required a decision to place my trust in what Jesus did for me on the cross. Yes, I’m glad I have a Nebraska heritage. I’m also thankful for my Christian heritage. But, above all I’m thankful for the saving grace of God, for without it I’d just be singing about a destination I’d never see!   P.S. The Grandparents Day book drawing was won by Carol Weeks. Congratulations, Carol! Your book will be in the mail tomorrow! Thank you to all who commented on my...

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