As I was preparing for yet, another family Thanksgiving dinner, I was frantically scouring all of the local thrift shops for older/used items to decorate our garage/party room. It’s hard to decorate a garage with any true style (mine is rustic, country), but as long as it’s clean and filled with family and friends, for me, it will be perfect.

I’m sure some of you are shocked that I would be thrifting for Holiday items, as others that truly know me, know this is what I do. I love things that had a life of its own, one that was loved and used by someone before me and hopefully someone after. Items that someone liked enough to make or purchase, items that have been used for family gatherings, and enjoyed by all those that gathered there. I know I’m waxing poetic here, but to me, that’s what the Holidays are all about. It’s the mushy stuff that makes a family memory.

A colorful mistake!

As my daughter Mandy and I were wandering through a place called, The Meander Thrift Store, this past week, I found an old “back of the couch” yellow afghan, that I’m about 99% sure that my mother had crocheted. It was a ripple pattern (which I’m displaying here in this picture). This picture is of the one I talked my mom into making for me; one huge teenage mistake. I’ll give the full story on that in a bit…

Now two of my mom’s favorite patterns were the ripple and the broom stick lace, but I digress. I only mention the afghan, because I should have been thrilled to get my hands on such and rare find, an item that took my mom weeks to create, but this one I just couldn’t get excited about, so I had to leave it there. Instead of it filling me with a since of pride in her accomplishments, in addition to having a nice throw to use on my old glider in the garage, I was filled with feelings of disgust and emptiness.

Now, I know you’re all shocked by my last statement. So I better explain briefly without bringing everyone down. Most of you know that my mother was killed a few weeks before my 17th birthday. After her funeral, for some reason hoards of people came into our house in Springboro and took almost everything that wasn’t nailed down, without rhyme or reason, they just took it. I do remember that my sister Sharon flew in from California and took all of the pictures and a little white crocheted poodle dog on a bottle, she said that was all she wanted and it fit into her suitcase. I wish I had stopped her from taking some of the pictures before we could make copies, or at the very least gone through them with her, but I was young. I’m sure she is taking the best care of them.

My stepdad didn’t try to stop anyone from taking anything or it didn’t seem like it to me; he just went outside and let them have at it. I’ve never made peace with any of this, in all these years, nor have I understood it. We didn’t have that much to start with and no one has ever said why they did it. I’ve always said, “you got along without it before you had it.” and now you know why. I often half way wonder if we had borrowed everything that we owned from them and maybe they were just reclaiming it all. I really have no idea, but I have always fondly referred to these people, as the vultures.

So, I did what any mature adult would do, I put it down and came home and dug out the one my mother made “just for me”… this ugly black, white, watermelon and gold afghan (see picture), I really wish she hadn’t listened to me when she made it. She and I worked on this God awful throw for weeks. She would let me get 4 to 8 rows in and then take it and rip all of them back out. She would say, you’ve missed a stitch here, can you see? As she shows me my mistake, I’m like; you wait ‘til now to say something, and why not when I was on that row? I guess she was secretly hoping that I’d hate that watermelon color, as much as she did, and would agree to another color before we finished, but no such luck, for I was a stubborn teenager, as most are, and not likely to, see the err of my ways, none to easily, I might add.

They say hindsight is 20/20, and in this case, it’s as clear as the nose on my face. Every time I see this afghan, I’m reminded of all the bad decisions I’ve made, and use this to try not to repeat them. I’ve kept it in a clear plastic bag for many years, so how it even got these stains is beyond me, I guess at some point the kids spilled on it, without mentioning it to me, as kids can do from time to time. No matter, I’ll keep it anyway. I’m sure there is some technique that will get them out. I’ll start with a little Shout and move on from there; hoping for the best. Even if all of the stains come out, it will still be a hug eyesore.

This afghan is a prime example of why you don’t let teenagers make their own decisions. Well none that will affect the rest of their lives anyway. I will always love this afghan, and hopefully pass it on to my children. Although, I’m fairly certain that it’s meant to spend its entirety in a clear plastic wrapper in the top of a linen closet, somewhere.

For this is truly one ugly remembrance of my childhood in every fashion of the word. It will remain a constant reminder of all the bad decisions, I’ve made in my lifetime, and I will love and cherish it for all the good and bad reasons. I can’t wait to toss it on the back of the glider in the garage and to hear all the jokes that come from my grand’s.

I do hope to share with them, the story of my mom and me in the making this afghan. I’ll leave out all the yucky stuff, and just tell them, of another life lesson, that I had to learn the hard way. Lesson being: That when you’re young you’ll make decisions, good and bad, which you’ll wish later in life, you’re parents, would have and should have overrule you on. Instead of them letting you make your own decisions and forever living with the confusedness. Yes, I did mean to say confusedness in stead of consequences there, because I was so confused, no one in their right mind would choose watermelon as a color, except a confused or crazy teenager.

I should add that I liked it so well, I crocheted matching shams that I used for years in the kids rooms as doilies on the night stand or dresser. Sorry kid, you were little and it matched your orange bedroom, which is something else that I’m sorry for. I didn’t learn until later, that orange stimulates a child’s mind and prevents sleep. Who knew?

This should give you a little insight as to where my mind goes at the Holiday’s. I try to keep in mind, that the things I make, the purchases that I make and the things I introduce into my family gatherings, that I’m making lasting memories for my children and grandchildren, and I want them to be good memories.

So, I’m not stroking over my using orange ribbon for the bows on my place cards, instead of the jute, that I wished I had used, or having one place setting too many and/or even being short one chair. Life goes on and on and on and I want to make the most of every minute of it, and to be truly thankful for what God has given me and for all the things He will extent to me later. Because at the end of the day, the only thing that remains my memories, and I really want them to be good ones.

Note: You better believe that if Mandy wanted watermelon color clothes (and she did) she got them as a tweenie, but as for the items that she will be keeping long-term, she got unique and simple things worth keeping, nothing that can get outdated or in tens years from now, someone say, what were you thinking? Well, not from me anyway. I’m sure she was gifted oddities that she in like turn, regifts to someone that she feels is better suited for them or can use them (hopefully, just teenagers). Because ew…

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November Events:
I wanted to wish my son-in-law Alan a very happy belated birthday, my brother Ralph and his wife Jana a Happy Anniversary, my nephew Michael Terrance a very Happy Birthday, to my beautiful Granddaughter Miss Averi Marie a very Happy Birthday, indeed and last but certainly not least, to JJ aka Justin Joseph a very, very Happy Birthday.

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Book Club:
Is reading the Blood Meridian and I for one am not a fan. I had no idea of the language or content when I decided to read it, and will try to make better choices in the future. Wow! I’m going to finish it, but its not my favorite.

I did just make two new purchases: A friend of a friend, Kellie Lynn Ketcham wrote a book called Advancing Backward, that I’m excited to read and the other is The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot, which apparently is on audible, that I could have downloaded for free from my local library. I never remember to check that. I usually forget my PIN, so I have to call anyway.

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Family Events:
• Steven called and said his grades are looking up. Yeah… Thank you Lord! He also wants to apply for a job as a pizza delivery driver in Cincinnati. Now, that scares me to death. I guess he hasn’t seen the news this week.

• My Grandson Trey (Alan Edward) just appeared in local production of Nut’s with his play group, he’s been grounded ever since, so he may not be seen in any thing else, if he keeps this up. Its okay Trey, Gram loves you.

• I’m also thrilled to announce that my Great Grandniece was just born yesterday, named Addison Faith, she came into this world 2:18 p.m. 7 lb 10 oz to my Grandniece Diana (Grubb) and Matthew Reeves. Congratulations!

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Special Thanks:
To my friends: Kelly Richmond for redressing, Ms. Kelly Scarecrow for my fall vignette and to Renee Thomas Dale for getting me 15 of my 26 blown glass pumpkin place card holders, these two additions will make my Thanksgiving memories all the more special.

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Top Searches:
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I hope you’ve found everything you’re looking for, and/or if you have something new or old (light chuckle here) to add, please do so. I welcome all ideas and suggestions.

Thanks as always and Welcome to the Family,
Sheila Jean Adkins Metcalf

TO ALL – thank you for teaching me some of the great lessons and listening when I needed to be heard. ~ Kellie Lynn Ketcham

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I’ve had some major events happen this week; some good… some???

I felt like a funeral crasher yesterday when one of my favorite uncles when I was a young girl, and still is today, died this week and I attended his funeral, without my older sister Shirley by my side. I can honestly say, that I only knew 3 or 4 people there, it was uncomfortable to say the least.

I slid in – in my usual manner; late.  Realizing at that moment, I’d forgotten to send flowers, for the first time ever in my life. I don’t know where my head was at? But in the grand scheme of things, I guess it was par for the course. Hopefully, no one really noticed, few people there knew me anyway.

Afterward, I attended the farewell gathering, where I was hit with, yet another big bombshell… when my aunt just plainly announced to the woman seated across from her and talking about her husbands family, that the son she had cared for since he was only two years old, after the death of his mother, was not her husband’s son, but my dad’s.

I know… she nor I had a clue what to say, so I thought… just roll with it… shake it off.  So in my usual fashion, I got his name and the name of his late mother. You know the genealogist in me… I was going to get the story. Not gossip since my other aunt sat there and agreed to it all. I guess it was common knowledge. Not to me or her, but you know that dang elephant in the room.

I have to admit… I do love those sudden foot-in-mouth experiences. They tend to always get you stirred up. But somehow, way down deep, I must admit it felt deliberate. Maybe I’m wrong. But I guess, I now have yet another brother. Don’t worry, I won’t drop his name – like it was dropped on me yesterday.

I come from a long line of goings-on, so this came as no shock to me. My dad had admitted to me years ago when we lived in California that he had a son with Doris Fox, but I shook it off as just more stupidity aka a drunken confession.

I don’t really have any desire to meet or to know him, but would like to hang him off a branch of this twisted old family tree. That is all I’m going to say on the matter.

I knew my father had lived with other women when he and my mother split up and had numerous affairs. He carried on an affair with Helen for years – the old bar maid from Hello Dolly’s in Trenton. She was married at the time but I don’t think any of my dad’s friends and family were too faithful to anyone. One uncle carried on and affair with some old lush by the old Dry Cleaners for years and years and yes, she was married to. Yuck! Luckily, they never had any lasting evidence.

I’m thinking things must have been really different back then, because everyone we knew at the time had been married three or four times and still carrying on with anyone that would have them. Men and women alike.  Not sure how their marriage vows read… (they had to have been very different from mine)… all I can say is Nasty… is the word that comes to mind now. No excuse. And Tiger Woods thinks he invented it. (shaking my head and laughing here) The bible says there is nothing new under the sun but there are still things that make me crazy.  This just heads the list.

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I did get a major answer to prayer this week. I had prayed for 7 long years for a wrong to be made right and not two hours after I finished praying… it happened and all I can say is… “THANK YOU, LORD!” Now, I will continue to pray that it is made known.

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I called my brother Ralph today, I know… he was shocked too… if you know me, then you know I never dial the phone, I just wait for it to ring. So after he was over the initial shock and after assuring him that there was no emergency, we had a nice long conversation about dad and his numerous affairs. Then we started reminiscing about our childhood. He was cracking jokes about how we were related to everyone around Middletown and the surrounding areas. He told me that whenever he was sneaking around doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing, someone would have already called Mom and alerted her to the situation. He felt like there were relatives aka spies everywhere. We laughed and swapped a few more similar stories before we hung up. It was almost a very nice talk.

I had called him while I was on my way to the worst dinner I’ve had in a very long time at Lone Star in Middletown. I let Steven pick between Olive Garden & Lone Star before he drove back to college tonight and of course to ruin the evening, he chose Lone Star. It was a nightmare. I think they were trying to break the sound barrier with the noise and the volume was actually louder outside than in, if you can imagine that. So there was no escape. Babies screaming and numerous dishes breaking, I will repeat… a NIGHTMARE! I swore I will never return but I said that the last time, when it was all things considered,  were actually worse.

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My niece Teresa Ann Parsons has a birthday this week, so I’m thinking, if her mother is feeling better maybe… just maybe we will go for a Girl’s Night Out! I know that I for one… could use it.

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That’s about it for this week, I did get several genealogy requests that I will try to look up tomorrow with a heavy work week ahead, but we all know that it’s my passion in life. So until I get the time to read more books, write more posts about what really needs to be said and done, I will just wish you all a very happy work week and may God watch over and keep you all. And to my newest discovery I will just say, “Welcome to the Family!”

Vision without action is merely a dream. Action without vision just passes the time. Vision with action can change the world. ~ Joel Arthur Barker

Things that cost nothing but a moment of recognition include…

 

…a hug or a kiss or a smile

…the scent of new flowers or fresh-mown grass or a rain shower

…the giggle of a child or the sight of a new puppy

…the look of delight when a child opens a gift

…the beauty of a sunrise or a sunset

…the sounds of a football game

…the delight in racing to lick an ice cream cone before it drips

…the sight of a loved one whom you’ve not seen for too long a time

…the joy when we see the price of gas drop a nickel or dime

…buds on a tree reminding us that spring and summer are almost here

…a thank you from a neighbor or a stranger whom you’ve helped

…a compliment you’d not been expecting

…the feeling when a tough job has been completed

…the smells of a clean tee shirt as you pull it over your head

…the beautiful new vehicle that catches your eye

…the feeling of relief when your physical exam turned out well

…falling asleep in your own bed

…being loved even when we might not be so loveable

 

This isn’t very bowdlerizing of me, I know, but we’d each do well to reflect on the many small treasures with which we’re blessed each and every day.  

 

A day will come when we’d give almost anything to be able to see or enjoy just a single one of these treasures and we’ll be unable to do so.

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“Give a man a horse he can ride, Give a man a boat he can sail.”
-James Thompson

Headlines That Could Stand Some Editorial Oversight…

 

·          Something Went Wrong in Jet Crash, Expert Says      Really?

 

·          Police Begin Campaign to Run Down Jaywalkers     I’ll bet even the Chief W. L. Wilcox would think this a bit excessive.

 

·          If Strike Isn’t Settled Soon, It May Last Awhile     I suspect that is the case.

 

·          Kids Make Nutritious Snacks     I’m sure I’d prefer peanuts or chips or something.

 

·          Juvenile Court to Try Shooting Defendant     Seems like a fair and impartial trial might be better.

love what you do… till you do what you love!

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“Feel the fear, and do it anyway.”
-Susan Jeffers

Jesse Adkins
Birth: 1754
Henrico, Goochland, Virginia, USA
Death: 1833
, Pike, Kentucky, USA

 

JESSE ADKINS FAMILY TREE

 

Father
William Vincent Jr. Adkins (Born: 1718-1884)

 

Mother
Lydia Owens (Born: 1724-1882)

 

Spouses
Mary Unk Adkins (Born: 1754)
Marriage: 1771 Henrico, Virginia, USA

Anne Poteet (Born: 1755-1825)

Marriage: 28 Dec 1815 Floyd, Kentucky

 

Known Children

Thomas Adkins (Born: 1775-1829)

John Adkins (Born: 1775-1845)

Joseph Adkins (Born: 1780-1847)

Spencer Adkins (Born: 1785-1830)

Jesse Jr Adkins (Born: 1788-UNK)

Isham Adkins (Born: 1790-1873)

Elijah Adkins (Born: 1794-1830)

 

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Notes: Son Jesse Adkins Jr. on the 1830 Pike County Census Jesse calls himself Jesse Adkins Sr. so he had to have a Jr. This Jesse maybe the son thought to be Winright’s – Jesse Adkins – we may need to move him. Also an Absalom Adkins of same age is found here. Need family info on him.

Note: Jesse spells his name Jysee so on one census it looks like Joyce Adkins.

  • 1810 Census Floyd, Floyd, Kentucky
  • 1820 Census Floyd, Kentucky
  • 1830 Census Pike, Kentucky

Drawing on the diaries, letters, memoirs, and research notes a good genealogist never tires of the hunt. We check every nook and cranny to seek out whatever shred of evidence we can find on a persons life as if we were going to write the Biography of each and every person in our distant past for all of history to receive.

 

We use our cunning wit to leave no stone unturned in our never ceasing quest for answers.  We hunger for names, dates and places as others for food. We call every person we can think of to try to find that one tiny piece of evidence that we have the right person.  We check; birth, marriage and death certificates and all the physical resources we can think of; courthouses, libraries, historical societies and cemeteries to find that last missing detail.

 

If only, our loved ones would have taken a few minutes to write their own stories or those closest to them had jotted down a few precious moments they’d shared together, then we could read of their life stories and share their history with our children and they with theirs.

 

Every good publisher says that each person has at least one book in them. I would challenge you to write your own Memoir and/or autobiography as if you were detailing it for future generations. Add your own flair and personality to every page so that your great grandchildren would know you if they met you on the street one day.

 

Keep a journal or daily diary to connect your ideas and current events. Write tales of; happy times, past love’s, your daily life, mistakes, sickness, heartbreak and misery make your record a living, breathing piece of history, an archive of grace and beauty for future generations to cherish.

 

In the end, the trick isn’t necessarily what goals and values you pick, though. You know yourself and where you want to be. The real trick is disciplining yourself to consistently write it down. Just as the architectural wonders of the world always being with a detailed blueprint, your hopes and dreams are far more likely to materialize when you put your plans and values down in writing.

 

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“If you would not be forgotten, as soon as you are dead and rotten; Either write things worthy of reading, or do things worthy of writing.” — Benjamin Franklin, May 1738