Rumblings on the Prairie

The incessant rumble of motorcycles from I-90 reaches the quiet of the ranch. Sturgis draws a huge crowd for it's annual rally, and this year the prediction is for a million bearded, bare skinned, bandanna-wearing bikers to visit. Traffic jams, loud vulgarities, over-crowded facilities, over-worked law enforcement, wrecks, wailing ambulances, and incarcerations are suddenly common in our peaceful world.

The venders and tattoo artists are waiting, rubbing their fingers together in anticipation of huge crowds and money to be made. Many Sturgis locals have moved out. And the rest of us stay off the roads and stay out of the Hills until rally days are over and the same rumble that brings the bikers in can be heard taking them back home. Sadly, some go home in body bags. Fatalities are high this year. DUI arrests are high. Drug busts are common.

And now that you have this picture in mind, consider what our lovely lady, Jolene, (from my book My Lady) thinks as she unwilling comes to South Dakota on a Harley during the Sturgis rally. Jolene, who loves to ride her horse Tango and is happiest on the family ranch, finds the noise and rabble almost unbearable. To add to her misery is the nagging fear that the man she loves has ulterior motives for dragging her into this mess. And it gets worse.

When she confronts him with his strange behavior, they have a ferocious argument. It gets physical as he slaps her, and she, with country girl grit, slaps him back and accuses him of-----murder. Her main thought, after she locks herself into her room and hears him leave, is to escape. She's scared, and she's praying. And she runs to the sanctity of the prairie.

Such are the thoughts that came to mind many years ago when we found ourselves driving through a mass of motorcycles on I-90.  Who knows why a writer's mind forms a book around one little incident, but that's the way it was, and Jolene and Dexter, and her other loves, are forever immortalized in a book.

Have a good and Godly day, and be careful on the roads!

My Lady is available on amazon, barnes and noble, and Tate Publishing. It's also available in local stores, and from my web site www.prairieflowerbooks.com

Prairie secrets

 

Using my imagination, I stood where I thought the steps of the little church would be. Dakota prairie in the fall, minus the fence, would have greeted the congregation of the United Norwegian Lutheran church as they ended their worship service on the banks of Brave Bull Creek.

 

The details of the memory are dim, but the impact of that long ago day when Dad and I went searching for a stray cow has resulted in an important part of the Goodbye, Belvidere trilogy.

I suppose I was riding old Rusty, a kind and gentle mare who liked to mosey along at her own pace. Dad must have known his ride would take twice the time with me along, but never-the-less, he succumbed to my begging, and saddled our horses with his usual good humor.

When we reached the hills above Brave Bull Creek, he surprised me and took a small detour.
"There used to be a church here," he said, getting off his horse and studying the ground. And then he grinned and showed me the remains of a rock foundation. "And over there are some graves." He pointed to several depressions in the ground. "My baby brother is buried here," he added, and found himself answering a hundred questions from my all too curious mind.

I don't remember if we ever found the stray cow. However, the story of the little church on the banks of Brave Bull never left me. A couple of years ago, I returned to my favorite childhood haunt. Once again I found the rock foundation, and tried to imagine the people who worshipped in that very spot. By now, the prairie had gently blanketed the graves with waving grass, and my quick search gave no evidence the sod had ever been disturbed with shovels and tears.

In the far distance, St. Pete's church steeple still pointed to God, just as I remembered. It's a different church now then when Dad and I gazed eastward, but this newer church still glistened white, and the steeple carried my thoughts far above the sparse clouds to the deeper blue of the sky.

What were the people like who built a church on the prairie, buried their loved ones, worshipped, grieved, loved----lost? How could I blend fact and fiction together to make it all come alive? Should it come from a homesteader's viewpoint? Or should a cattleman tell the story? Or maybe neither one----maybe a man of God who witnessed the free range days, and then the influx of homesteaders? Maybe a man called-----CJ Crezner. Would he be the first pastor of the church?  Hmmm.

But what were the facts? With help from the local courthouse, I learned that homesteader Nels Christensen, in 1911, donated this parcel of land to build a United Norwegian Lutheran Church. What happened to the church? Fact gets a little fuzzy here, but it is believed it was moved to Nowlin, a little village along Bad River, in about 1921. And then? More research. Those detail will have to come in the third book of the Goodbye, Belvidere series, which I hope to get started on soon.

But in the meantime, readers, enjoy CJ and Joanna's adventures in His Eye Is on the Sparrow, the second book of the trilogy. Some surprises are in store for you. Discover why Isaac is heading west, without saying Goodbye to Belvidere or his family. Enjoy this time on our Dakota prairies, and catch up on a little history for good measure.

Have a good and Godly day!

www.prairieflowerbooks.com

Ranch musings

We were a happy trio as we putted along in the side-by-side heading out to the corrals to join the rest of the family.

Bud the dog,  Little Guy (youngest grandson) and myself were taking cold drinks and goodies for everyone, and we had a light breeze, fluffy clouds, and blue sky as our companions. Not all the family was waiting for us; our oldest daughter and her husband were at the hospital, waiting for her to have surgery, but we felt she was in good hands and didn't expect any complications.

The cattle were sorted into the right pastures, everyone enjoyed a brief break before heading home, and Justin joined  Bud, Grandson and me.  We quit puttering when he took over the driving, and shifted into high gear----there seemed to be fences to check, gates to close, and everything whizzed by us at high speed. Grandson pointed to the seat belts, and I nodded in agreement.

After some time of bouncing through ruts, dodging puddles, and tearing down steep hills, Justin made the mistake of bouncing out to pound a staple in. I quickly slid under the wheel. There are some things that a person just can't tolerate, and one of them is racing through a beautiful day without taking time to enjoy it.

We were back to puttering. Past an old homestead where the yellow irises still bloom, moseying through the grass filled draws, stopping to tip over a struggling turtle that had flipped over on his back, smelling the wild roses, watching a lone antelope as she kept a wary eye on us. The good things of life. Even my cowboy was in a relaxed state of mind when we reached home.

During supper we had an urgent phone call. No, not from our daughter at the hospital, but from a tow truck operator who had gotten stuck in a muddy pasture where he was trying to pull out some Missouri prairie dog hunters, who were very stuck. It wasn't long after Justin and our son left to rescue the stranded ones that I received another urgent call. Not only was the tow truck and the hunters stuck, but also---you guessed it----the rescuers. Now they needed someone in a four wheeler to bring them back so they could get the tractor and, hopefully, pull everyone out.

Our daughter-in-law headed out in the deepening twilight to find them, and once again, Little Grandson, Bud the dog, and I are a trio, but this time we are at Little Grandson's house enjoying the rocking chair. Shortly before midnight everyone is unstuck, headed back to civilization, and the message on the answering machine said our daughter's surgery was successful, and she was resting comfortably.

A slightly untypical day on the ranch.

Have a good and Godly day----even if it is a little unusual----
www.prairieflowerbooks.com



Our happy trio

Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad!

My folks were married on May 18, 1937. They started their married life slightly in debt, lived on a rented farm, and endured drought and a depressed economy.

Actually, I never heard them lament about any of the above facts; except once in a while when they were in the middle of a heated argument and they sometimes questioned why they married each other. They were  generally upbeat and seemed to handle with good humor most of life's situations.

Dad worked hard, but he seemed to enjoy it. Mom didn't exactly work hard, but she detested slothfulness, and kept a wonderfully clean home and a full pantry of baked goods. They bought a place, farmed, raised cattle, and encouraged their kids to be honest, to work, and to be kind to others. Dad suffered a heart attack and died 40 years ago this May. All the years mom was a widow, she was able to live comfortably on what he had provided. I truly marvel at this. She was thrifty in her own right; yet she was able to buy what she wanted. It speaks well for their common sense and financial planning.

Besides all of these good attributes, they gave us something immeasurably precious. We have the assurance they are both in heaven. I believe the most precious gift we can ever receive from our loved ones is the calm assurance that they know Christ, and they understand He was crucified for their sins, and they are looking forward to eternal salvation in paradise. It is an unspeakable heartache to wonder where loved relatives and friends might be spending eternity when they give no assurance of their faith.

I especially appreciate this when I realize that neither of my parents were raised in a home that emphasized church or church attendance. They were baptized when they were in their 30's, and they made the commitment to raise their kids in the church. The older I get, the more I realize what a rich and wonderful blessing they gave us with their decision and their commitment.

Mom passed away this spring. She went to sleep and snoozed her way right up to heaven. After all these years, she and dad are together again. I shed happy tears when I think of them in their new glorious bodies celebrating with each other and with friends and family who also reached heaven's gates.

Talk to your loved ones about your faith. They will appreciate the conversation after you're gone.

Have a good and Godly day!

 

I love to tell the story

The Countries of Whine and Roses is now available through Tate Publishing at this link:
  Tate Publishing

The release date is May 5, 2015 and then it should be available from distributors like Barnes and Noble and amazon.  I should have books here by the end of March.

This is labeled a juvenile book. I'm new to the world of illustrated books for youth, and it has been a fascinating journey. Sometimes a frustrating fascinating journey, but never-the-less a learning experience.

Several years ago, while I was still teaching 3rd grade release time classes, a story crept into my mind of a beautiful country of happiness where a good king lived and ruled, and people loved both him and the prince. Coupled with that thought was the joy of Heaven and what it must be like to live in the presence of God.

 But another thread was unraveling in the story.  How did the Heavenly residents react when they learned Jesus was leaving them to come to the wicked world? Surely they must have wondered why their beloved Christ had to endure harshness and evil from the prince of this world, the devil himself.

Who would watch over the Christ Child? Who would make sure He found His way back to Heaven? What would give them any comfort or joy while they continued without the Son of God? God and the Holy Spirit must have reassured them Jesus would return.

So---once upon a time, in the country of Roses, a good and kindly king sent his beloved son, the prince, to the country of Whine to convince the unhappy people there that a better life was available to them. And for awhile the Whine people listened, but eventually, they began to disbelieve the message and hate the messenger.

The good folks of Roses were ready to fight for their prince, but the king said they mustn't. And HS, the one entrusted to ensure the prince's safe return, agreed with the king. There had never been such an unhappy day in the country of Roses. Even Diamond and Thunder, the majestic horses the prince and the king rode, put their heads down in sorrow.

But joy and laughter return when HS brought the prince home again, as he had promised he would do. While Mac held Diamond's reins and watched Rainbow Hill along with everyone else, the prince appeared suddenly and greeted his people with joy.  Shouts of laughter! Dancing in the streets! The country of Roses is still celebrating.

I love this story. The release time kids always listened quietly, (which was a rarity in itself----I'm not good teacher material) and asked fascinating questions when it was over. It is a great way to explain the Holy trinity of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

 I also love the fact that this Easter (and every day) we can all shout and celebrate because Christ has risen from the grave and has returned to His glory in Heaven. And--the Holy Spirit is as busy as ever living within our hearts. He constantly  reminds us of God's great love and Christ's great gift. We serve a wonderful God!

Have a good and Godly day-----spring is coming!

Joyce Wheeler
www.prairieflowerbooks.com

Our cuckoo sneezer

"A-choo! Cuckcoo."

We looked up from our menus in surprise. Who would have thought we'd hear a cuckoo clock in beautiful McKinley lodge at Denali Park?

After we placed our orders, we heard it again. "A-choo! Cuckoo." Hmm. Obviously the little bird had allergies. Behind the counter, one of the gals also had allergies. She was a cheerful young lady, but often interrupted by her own sneezing.

Because I was facing the counter and could see her, it soon became apparent this gal could not only sneeze happily, she also cuckooed.

"A-choo! Cuckoo." I giggled when I heard it. "It's the gal beyond the counter," I informed the others. "Every time she sneezes, she cuckoos."

Justin was indignant. Absolutely not, he claimed. There was a clock somewhere  that was making the sound. I looked at my son-in-law and shrugged. Oh well. If the man wanted to think it was a clock it didn't matter to me.

"A-choo! Cuckoo." Ever try not to laugh out loud? I looked at the other diners and noticed most of them had the same problem I did. My undoing was glancing at the daughters and watching the  hilarity on their features while sweetly listening to their father scoff at my information of the sneezer/cuckooer.

"A-choo! Cuckoo."  Once again my beloved looked in vain for a clock, which was the rest of group's undoing. We laughed until we cried and our sides hurt. It's interesting what can trigger an outburst of uncontrolled laughter.

Yesterday I sneezed. From the living room I heard a distinct "Cuckoo." Justin grinned at me from the recliner. I guess it was his way of saying it probably really wasn't a clock he was hearing at McKinley lodge.

                                                   VALENTINE'S DAY IS COMING SOON!

Join your friends at Dempsey's Pub in Uptown Watertown South Dakota on February 12. Their Art night @ The Pub happens every 2nd Thursday and on the 12th of February they are celebrating all that is February with a RED SHOW.

I won't be able to be there, but have submitted a reading called The Red-Head and the Redneck. It's an excerpt  from my book, Laughter in the Wind. Hope the folks will enjoy it. My friend, Jane Green, who writes for several newspaper in the area, is handling the details for me. Thanks a whole big bunch, Jane!

                                                                        

New tracks in the snow

 

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It snowed again the other night. By morning all the old tracks were obliterated, and the prairie was a clean canvas, waiting for a new picture to be drawn with paw prints. It reminds me of the new year that already has arrived.

2015 is a clean canvas this first day of January, waiting for us to begin putting new marks across it. I truly enjoy this month and usually have a burst of energy as I sift, sort, and throw away last year's accumulation of 'stuff'. Why did I cram those little pieces of paper in a drawer with miscellaneous names and phone numbers? It would have been just as easy to copy them in a great little book made for such things.

Somewhere along the line, I quit making  resolutions. After reading the same thing over year after year, I realized some things just 'ain't gonna happen'----like losing 10 pounds. Nope. Never.

Our community has had a sad December as many folks lost loved ones. Some deaths were expected, some were totally unexpected. Every week seemed to bring us together to grieve with another family and to honor the memory of the life that was gone. Small communities mourn together. Usually we've known the person and the family for a long time, and most of us have gone through a similar time of saying goodbye and can sympathize. I think of all these people now that the new year has come. There will be changes in their life, in their lifestyle, and for some, even different addresses. They'll be sorting out the accumulations of their loved ones, and it can be a daunting job.

Which brings me back to tracks in the snow. Footprints walking into a new life---not sure what the future holds, and maybe feeling alone. What a relief to know that Christ has the journey for  each one of us mapped out and wants to add His holy steps alongside of ours.

One last thought from our house to your house--- may your home fires be warm and inviting, the coffee freshly brewed, love and laughter long and lingering, and this grand and new year of 2015 full of blessed walks with our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ .

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

www.prairieflowerbooks.com

Remembering Korea

Truthfully, I never read much about the Korean war. I don't recall studying it in school. I don't remember many people talking about it.  I have relatives who fought there and I heard some of their stories, but somehow the significance of this war eluded me.

Merry Helms and her book Prairie Boys at War has sharpened my focus. I bought the book for Justin, and when he saw the size of it, he sighed. But once he began to read it, he continued. And he has recounted what he has learned.

John Durand writes : "In this riveting narrative, Helm sought out the fast-disappearing Midwest veterans to----reconstruct their countless acts of sacrifice and heroism, their almost unbelievable suffering, and the horror of captivity experienced by many----I am reminded of Winston Churchill's tribute to the Royal Air Force----: 'Never have so many owed so much to so few'."

I never realized how many American's were prisoners of war in Korea.  Merry Helms writes "Many surmise that when all was said and done, the Hadong-Taejon prisoners may have suffered a fatality rate that surpassed anything ever endured by American prisoners in any war".  The accounts in her book from the survivors tell of atrocities that numb the mind.

Prairie boys going to war. Cousin Eddy said when the recruiting officers asked him what he could do he told them he was 'just a farm boy'. A couple of weeks ago when we visited with him, he began to recount his own war stories. In his early eighties now, his eyes are clear, his hand steady, and his mind is sharp. He told us of some humorous events, and then he clicked his tongue and sadly said he lost some good buddies.

I think of our young men leaving home and everything they know and love. Going to a foreign country where they are hated. Protecting the good from the evil. Coming back home to settle down and raise a family. Putting most of the memories on lock down, and trying to forget what they saw.

I believe in prayers for our soldiers, prayers for their families, prayers for the wisdom of our leaders and the military. Prayers that all those young soldiers in any war have not died in vain. And prayers that all of us will remember those who sacrificed so much to keep America free.

Have a good and Godly Veteran's Day, Tuesday, November 11

www.prairieflowerbooks.com

Rediscovering memories

Marie Wheeler, Grandmother-in-law, was a young woman when her friends urged her to come to West River Country and file on an 80 acre homestead. There were available jobs, a chance to own some land, and adventure! Since Marie was an orphan, and accountable to no one, she heeded the call and boarded a train as far as Philip.

Her claim was near a little outpost called Marcus, and with fortitude, a strong faith in God, and good and caring friends, she made her way into the north country and picked a spot to put her shack.

When she wasn't at her homestead, she worked as a waitress, cook, and 'gofer' of a general store and eating establishment in Marcus. I would underscore this----Marie worked and Marie learned the English language. She was born in France, orphaned, and immigrated to America as a young child. When her aunt died, Marie was eleven years old. Basically, she raised herself from that point on.

So, the homestead shack was her first very own home. She loved all 160 square feet of it. She wall papered with newspaper, used apple crates for cupboards, kept a white tablecloth with bouquets of prairie flowers on her homemade table, and fulfilled the requirements needed to call this piece of ground hers.

When she was in her eighties she discovered her homestead shack was still in use. The daughter of her good friends invited Marie and her family to come and see it at her ranch, and so on a lovely South Dakota day, two carloads of us trekked up to Isaac's ranch. We loaded kids, food, and our spry little Grandmother and spent time reminiscing of homestead days.

We recorded Marie recounting how she paid $50 for her shack, and how the folks she bought it from hauled it to its new location. She also told us how she bought a Montgomery Ward saddle to ride her horse back and forth from Marcus to her shack. She was overjoyed to stand inside the doorway of her first home, and pointed out where she had placed everything.

For years the little cassette tape gathered dust in Justin's gun cabinet. Recently our daughter Jackie took it and recopied it onto a disk. Once again we hear Marie's voice, her laughter, and we relive that special day when the past  became the present, and wonderful memories were made.

Goodbye, Belvidere is a tribute to those brave and hearty souls who settled this country. And in 'A hundred and sixty acres', the brave and daring

Joanna takes a wild stagecoach ride with a driver who hitches broncs alongside of somewhat tame horses to complete his team. Meet Art Wheeler, the love of Marie's life.

Family stories are a treasure. On this beautiful October morning, I'm going to take the coffee cup outside and remember the folks who settled here before us to make this part of the world "home".

Have a good and Godly day!


prairieflowerbooks.com

Fall and Festivals

Fall is such a fleeting season. Only a few days ago the box elder tree was a glorious sight to behold; today its leaves have practically deserted it and bare branches are waving in the wind.

The time seemed to go equally as fast this week-end at the South Dakota Festival of Books. The South Dakota Humanities Council had a full roster of presenters and  those who attended seemed well satisfied. The exhibitors had use of the Falls room at the Holiday Inn, and we were well satisfied with the crowds. A big thank-you to all the organizers----you did a great job!

It was a book lover's paradise. Booths of books of every shape, color, genre, and price---and authors ranging from young to old---men and women--- we had the kinship of sharing writing experiences.

I bought a book for Justin. Both he and I had uncles who served in the Korean War, and Merry Helm has put together a fascinating book called Prairie Boys at War---this is the first of three volumes about the Korean War and those who fought in it. For more information about this book and M.M. Helm, go to www.PrairieBoyBooks.com  My non-reading husband is already on chapter five.

I bought other books also----and wished I could have bought from every vender! They all looked so interesting. And---I sold books, which was the main purpose in going, and came home with less books, and more friends. Now that's a wonderful trade-off!

When we got home, the granddaughters told us they saw a goat along the creek. We don't raise the little buggers, and we didn't know of any neighbors who did, but  finally figured out where a goat herd was located, and it was at least 10 miles away. At any rate, grandson Kyle came after supper and said he needed a little help. He had roped the critter,  tied him up, and needed some more hands to get it to the barn. Bud the dog, Justin and I and Kyle all piled on the four-wheeler, and in short order, the little brown goat had bleated and bunted his way to the barn. Another new experience :)

I hope you're enjoying the beauty of fall, and getting ready for the freshness of winter. There's a nip in the air, and it makes me want to curl up in the green chair with a good book and a cup of coffee.

Have a good and Godly day!

www.prairieflowerbooks.com

Counting Blessings

Island Princess

 Since we last visited, Justin and I and some of our family boarded the Island Princess and sailed up the Inside Passage to Alaska. We fine dined, listened to great music, ate ice cream cones, walked the deck in the moonlight, ate ice cream cones, and  watched gorgeous scenery float by. Ocean and mountains were spell-binding, and ice cream cones rated high on Justin's favorite list!

Loved the long beautiful evenings on the water!

When we got to Wittier, we boarded the Alaskan Express Railroad Train and started the nine hour trip to Denali.

Looking down on tree tops----from the train. Oh boy.

Our little curly headed tour guide told us we were crossing a trestle bridge built by Americans in the 1920's. Gulp. The train crawled painfully slow over this canyon, and almost came to a stop. When we were finally safe on the other side, he cheerfully announced that we needn't worry about the soundness of the bridge, as they tested it every day. And he thanked us for being the testers on this day.

Mount McKinley, caribou, moose, bears and more cheery tour guides awaited us in Denali National Park. Also more ice cream cones, more family fun and adventures, and all too soon, it was time to pack up and fly home. We found we can really sprint in airports when we have 20 minutes to catch the homeward bound plane.

The folks at the ranch had been busy while we were gone. A new  woven wire fence graces the calving pasture. It weaves around the creek and should prevent baby calves from drowning in the spring. Also a grand high poled gate that's high enough for the tractor to pass under had been constructed.

We are so blessed. Our world is  beautiful. Whenever we travel we realize every spot has its own story to tell and sights to see. And family adds all the finishing touches!

 Already it's September. The leaves are beginning to turn, it has frosted at Deerfield Lake in the Black Hills, and the fall cattle work has begun.

 My calendar tells me that I'm scheduled to visit the Jackson County Library in Kadoka on the afternoon of the 19th when Homecoming is celebrated. Deb, the librarian, mentioned coffee after the parade---hope to see you there!

I'm also going to be in Sioux Falls, SD for the Festival of Books, September 26th and 27th. Looking forward to meeting and greeting folks at my booth in the Holiday Inn Centre Fall Room. I'm joining a group of other exhibitors and we will have books, books, and more books!

Until next time, have a good and Godly day!

http://www.joycewheelerbooks.com
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!

Old boots etc.

 These boots are not made for walking. I found that out a number of years ago when I wore them to an all day and half the night affair at the Black Hills Stock Show.  Vanity can be a miserable companion. You have no idea the struggle the boot jack and I had getting them off at 2 in the morning. Justin shook his head and went to bed.

I still love 'em though. These Blucher boots were custom made in Fairfax, Oklahoma a number of years ago. When my first pair was wearing out, Justin suggested I order another pair. You could pick the design and color from a little catalog,and the Bohemian in me became carried away with color. Even the boot maker was dubious and double checked to make sure I wanted blue and orange.  I should have told the fine folks in Fairfax that these colorful characters  won a contest for prettiest boots on the Family Wagon Train. It probably helped that the wagon master was also Bohemian.

They're all polished up now and still look good. And though I've worn them quite a bit, they're not my first choice when we're working cattle. I save that honor for this pair: 

 

The green tops with the yellow butterfly was my first pair, and  Justin ordered them from Olathe, Kansas about 49 years ago. They carry me through dust and manure and lots of miles in the saddle. They're a comfortable old pair but lately they've been grumbling about retiring. And, they also tell me a little cleaning and polishing wouldn't hurt either. The sad fact of the matter is that after I'm done riding, my bones and body feel the same way these boots look. And, as one of the characters say in Goodbye, Belvidere, 'that ain't purty.'

Aw well, most likely the boots and I both have some saddle time left. Not only that, but I have the second book in the Goodbye, Belvidere series to write, and it's sure to include both boots and Bohemians.  Of course there's also grandkids to hug, and great grands to hold,  friends to have coffee with----new music to play-----maybe I should retire the butterfly boots and start wearing the horseshoe/heart ones more----after all, with all the help in the corral from kids and grandkids,  I could just stand on the sideline and yell encouragements. Oh, even better, I could sit on the four wheeler and yell. With a cup of coffee in one hand----

Have a good and Godly day!


www.joycewheelerbooks.com
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Fifty

And here we go again. I'm starting a new blog site. Down and away with the old---actually, the old site just disappeared one day, and so goes one more tie with the old and defunct publishing company, WinePress. I'm sure you're hoping I won't bore you with yet another blog of WP Woes, and I promise I won't!

Actually, what I wanted to yak about was the Fourth of July. Fourth, Fun, Family, and Fifty. Justin and I will be married fifty years this fall, and our son and daughter-in-law surprised us with a small gathering of family and friends, and our original wedding party---

Don't laugh. Our wedding party was as small as we could make it. Our friend George, and Justin's sister, (my future sister-in-law) Charmaine stood up with us. Our parents, the minister, and Justin's grandmother were the only other guests. When we talked 'small wedding', we were seriously meaning 'small'. Actually, plan A was to sort of elope, but we settled for plan B, which included minimal family.

It was a cold and snowy day in November----and we had already postponed our tiny event once. Justin had pneumonia and my Dad had a horse wreck which resulted in a broken ankle.  After the ceremony, Justin and I had a wreck when someone ran into his beautiful '57 Chevy.

So, standing in the snow, just barely croaking, was my new husband, my father with his ankle in a cast, and the rest of the crew. In those long ago days, everyone always opened up the hood and looked at the motor. Usually they sighed, nodded, and fixed whatever looked fixable. In this case, it worked, and we continued on our honeymoon.

And in those days, Gillette, Wy. was not a huge booming town. It was a quiet little village, and the only theater had just burned down. In the morning, the doors to the yellow and white '57 Chevy had frozen shut. I don't remember how long it took to unthaw them.

 We finally started for home via Devil's tower. We were young, in love, and to shower us with loveliness, a beautiful full moon was rising above the Black Hills. I thought it was romantic, but Justin was frowning.

The Chevy was jerking. The Chevy had a bearing going out. The Chevy needed a doctor. We ended our honeymoon in a garage in Spearfish.

Now, fifty years later, we are planning on sailing to Alaska via Princess Cruise Lines. It's what I would call a perfect second honeymoon. We hope the boat doesn't sink. (This is the second time we celebrated with an Alaskan cruise---the picture below is from our 45th wedding anniversary)

Justin and I have fought, argued, laughed, raised our children, cried, and hopefully, matured a little. We've been blessed with great kids, grandkids, great-grandkids, family, friends and fun. And we're grateful our wedding day has provided us with many a merry telling and re-telling. With a start like that, the rest of our marriage seemed like a breeze!

Have a good and Godly day!

joycewheelerbooks.com