Home Place

Pictures from the Home Place

Hello everyone. I am attaching a few old pictures from the Home Place. Enjoy! Karen

ANCESTORS

Please note the "Links of Interest", on the left. I have sat up a special page just for the ancestory and family history. All you have to do is click the link and it will take you there. Please if you know of any other family members email send my way. Or if you want to add other sites that you think others would be interested in, just add to the link column, or send to me. Thanks!

I thought about this last night and realized that I will need to redo a bit on the access to ancestor and family history section. I will need to send everyone an additional blog invite so that everyone can author it like the homestead blog. Bare with me this is a work in progress and I really am not very experienced at the computer. I will also check with Mike when he gets back from deep sea fishing, and see if he has some suggestions for creating sections on the family blog.

BACKROADS

Hi everyone! Thought I would do another post, because I cannot figure out why the comment key appeared on the first blog but not the last two. Sandra Jo, if this one comes up with a comment at the bottom of the page, just click it, then send me a message back to show me that you know how to post a comment. OKAY?????????? And if you want to edit something on this page, just click the little pencil. OKAY??????????? But don't do it unless you have a very good reason to do so. OKAY???????????
This is a little song that I have intended to ask Teresa and Tommy if they might work up and add to their list of musical numbers. I think it could be the Longan theme song???????? ( or at least for some of us ). It is an old Kate Wolf song.

I'll take the back roads home, by the open country side. Letting things slip by in drawn out time. I will take the long way home on the back roads of this life, taking time to see what goes by.
Coming and going there is no dividing line, what you are heading for someone left behind. And the shortest road ain't always the best, sometime let a back road take you home.
A back road is so easy it just rambles on and on, take it or leave it as it rolls along, drifts through things it cannot change and doesn't even try, wouldn't
that be something for you and I.
Coming and going there is no dividing line, what you are heading for someone left behind. And the shortest road ain't always the best, Sometime let a back road take you home.
Anywhere you are bound, you will get there someday, you are the one that chooses what you see along the way.
And when the heartaches seem to much for you to bear, there is a back road winding everywhere.
Coming or going there is no dividing line. . . . . . . . .
( Does this song remind anyone of those good back road drives?)

Fountain Photo

Just a photograph of one of the Kansas City
Fountaints. Kansas City is suppose to have
more fountains than any other American city.
I live less than a block from this fountnain.

Perhaps the World Ends Here

The world begins at the kitchen table.

No matter what we must eat to live.

The gifts of earth, are brought and

prepared, set on the table. So it has

been from the beginning of creation,

and it will go on.

We chase children or dogs away from

it. Babies teeth at the corners. They

scrape their knees under it.

It is here that children are given

instructions on what it means to be

human. We make men at it, we make

women.

At this table we gossip, recall enemies,

and ghosts of lovers.

Our dreams drink coffee with us as they

put their arms around our children.

They laugh at us with our poor falling

down selves, and as we put ourselves

back together again at the table.

This table has been a house in the rain,

an umbrella in the sun.

Wars have been began and ended at

this table, it is a place to hide in the

shadow of the terror. A place to

celebrate the sweetest of victories.

We have given birth at this table

and we have made plans to bury our

parents and loved ones.

At this table we sing with joy, with

sorrow. We pray of suffering and

of remorse. We give thanks.

Perhaps the world will end at the

kitchen table, while we are laughing

and fighting, and crying, and eating

of the last sweet bite.

Poem by Joy Harjo