Unique Journeys

December 4, 2016

"Okay, kiss your grandmother, and get out." My pronouncement this morning as it began to "really" snow.  Not the most motherly approach to looking out for our oldest son and his girlfriend, but the looming 8 to 9 hour drive home to Milwaukee was the motivation.  As soon as Mark and Allie were on the road, our youngest was promptly shoved out the door to begin his drive back to UCM campus.

Now, nearly an hour later, Keith is dozing on the sofa, our daughter, Coby, is catching up with friends and her squad through the wonders of social media, and Mom is checking in with my brother, Jake, about ranch details and the watching of the upcoming Chiefs game.

I am sitting in my office, fireplace going, music in the background, watching the huge snowflakes tumble to the ground. The wonder of God's nature always gives me moment of pure pause,  How awesomely complicated and finely orchestrated nature can be!  There is always beauty and wonder to be found, we just don't always take the time to pause and see it.

The snowflakes are so large today, and they are cascading down onto the surface that was enjoying 60 degree weather just a week ago.  Each flake, as we learned as children, is unique. As I watch the snow fall, and enjoy a majestic view out my window, I am thinking of my kids, they are like snow flakes. Each very unique and beautiful.

I have often reflected on how fortunate and blessed Keith and I are to have such amazing children.  Raising three kids is full of challenges, homework issues, social struggles, dating dilemmas, responsibility lessons and lectures, mommy meltdowns, yelling, crying, pouting, and above all laughter.  Our kids are not, and never have been perfect.  I thank God for that fact.  I have always been proud of my kids, and continue to be in awe of who they are as adults.

Today, as the weekend winds down and the work week looms ahead, I am already missing the two sons who have departed, and dread tomorrow when mom and Coby leave.  Yet, I wouldn't want it any other way.

Our youngest has final exams this week, and several plans for the following week, so he won't be home for the Christmas break as early as usual.  His focused, matter-of-fact approach to the holidays prompted him to bring matching, gawd-awful sweatshirts for each of his siblings and Allie.  We have pictures of all four of them in these ugly clothing items, that each of the four was proud to wear!

I was fortunate enough to share a few private minutes with Mark this morning, and it was so nice to see him relaxed and comfortable.  We had the privilege of attending a wedding this weekend, where Mark served as best man.  He was so very "together", taking his role very seriously.  Yet, he was at ease, well spoken, and so adult!  It was a joy to see.

Our oldest, who is now napping before the game, will be back on duty next week, involved with Shop with a Cop activities, finishing her shopping, and making sure everyone in our family is lined out for the Jacobsen Christmas gift exchange. Last evening I overheard her in a passionate discussion about the electoral college with a friend of ours, quoting stats, making her case, and yet listening to others who were throwing in opinions, comments, and questions...her eyes sparkling and her laughter rang throughout the house.

Each of our children is unique, yet strongly devoted to the other siblings.  They argue, pick on each other, hold each other to task, and truly enjoy spending time together.  There are loud card games, a few drinks, riotous laughter, and hugs!  Allie joins in and survives the chaos of a family gathering.  We even managed to get family pictures taken without too much turmoil and uncooperative pranking.

Now they are all on their new journey for December.  Promises of Skype sessions and phone calls were made as I was pushing the boys out the door. The snow has now stopped, and has nearly melted away.  The laughter, noisy teasing, and hugs have melted away. My journey has begun, anticipating the next time we can all be together. An like a new snowfall, it will be unique and wonderful.

Journey Forward

November 9, 2016

Today I had the privilege, once again, to teach junior high students about the Presidential Election. Since beginning my teaching career in 1985, I have had the opportunity to teach the day after the election nine times!  It is a thrill to do so, even if the candidate I was supporting did not win the election.  My principal was also conducting my formal evaluation during the class, so I was very prepared, but not rehearsed. The students had interesting questions and were enthused about what happens next.  In all, the students were excited, and for most, their choice of candidate did not win last night.

This election has seemed more heated and more contentious than previous elections, but maybe not.  Sarah Palin wasn't given any break, and the election of 2012 wasn't kind either.  However, with social media and the distinct differences in the two candidates, it appeared to me that this election did not bring out the best in the average man, or woman.

It appears that the election results are mostly tabulated and Mr. Trump will be our next President.  Mrs. Clinton spoke today of her disappointment and the importance of letting Mr. Trump lead this country.  President Obama has extended an invitation to the White House.  It seems to me that the big players in this election are behaving fairly well.

There is great disappointment for many Americans, and I can certainly understand and empathize.  We are a passionate people when it comes to our political views, and it is natural that we take the defeat of our candidate personally.  There have been several elections in which I was terribly disheartened over the end results. But, we power on and face the day!

Regardless who was to become the next President, there was to be great disappointment and an abundance of disbelief.  Yet, we all get up the next day and head off to work, or what else was planned for us to do today.  I am amazed at the total despair I am hearing and reading from friends and acquaintances.  Why must we always assume the worst.  Where did our patriotic spirit go?  My preferred candidate dropped out of the race back in early summer, but I continued to watch, read, listen, and ponder about the other candidates, making up my mind yesterday, in the poll, as to who I would support.

I do not believe we need a high  concrete wall along our southern border, but I do not believe our new President is out to get all Hispanic immigrants. I am very concerned about terrorism coming to our shores, as it did on 9/11, but I do not believe there is a plan to rid the country of all Muslims.  I am a woman, obviously, but I am not frightened of what the new President might inflict on my rights as a citizen just because I am a female.  (Mr. Clinton and Mr. Kennedy are not men I would use as examples of respecting all women.)

Why are we, the disappointed citizens, so sure this result is disastrous? He hasn't taken office yet.  And to be fair, if Mrs. Clinton had been elected, this mayhem of bitterness would have probably been no different, the tone would have been the same.

It is now time to get on board and look to our leadership.  If our elected officials do not keep their word, do not follow the law as determined by the U.S. Constitution, and do not serve us to the best of their ability, then by all means, we have the right to hold those officials accountable.

I awoke this morning thinking, "at least this election is over, and we can move forward."  I don't see many people willing to do that.  It is time to journey forward and rely on that American determination that has served this country well for nearly 250 years.

Journey to the Polls

November 6, 2016

In two days, we Americans journey to the polls to cast our votes in the national election.  For me, this is an exciting event, reinforcing my love of country and gratitude for the rights and responsibilities each election reinforces for me. I enjoy voting, and since our marriage nearly 29 years ago, Keith and I go to the polls together if at all possible.

My first experience voting in a presidential election was in 1980, Carter versus Reagan.  At eighteen, I knew everything!  I researched the candidates, listened to the "grown-ups" cuss and discuss the finer points of the election, and actually paid attention in government class.  I was a proud and prepared voter! My parents took me with them to vote, and Dad was as excited as I was about voting.  We arrived in New Albany, the polling location for our township, and entered the charming one-room school house that housed the elections.  Three women of retirement age, and dressed as if attending church, manned their stations with friendly, yet serious focus.  Pencil and ballot in hand I stepped into the booth and pulled the curtain.  My parents were on either side of me, and it was a serious, solemn and exhilarating experience.  I was casting my vote for the U.S. President!

Those emotions travel with me each time I cast my vote in an election.  On Tuesday these emotions will still be with me.  Am I happy with this year's brawl for the office of U. S. President? No.  I can honestly say I am disgusted with the tone and behavior of this election's campaigning.  If my children had acted the way this nation, as a whole, is behaving, consequences would have been swift and harsh.  If my junior high students said anything remotely like the top two candidates have said, and with the tone most often used, Saturday detentions would have occupied the last two months of my free-time. However, it not just the candidates I hold responsible.

I hold us, the American people, responsible.  We find the tasteless campaigning and mudslinging entertaining, especially if our candidate scores a great verbal punch.  We believe everything and anything on social media.  Worst of all, we do not do our own research!  We are lazy!  It is easier to soak in all the foul conjecture from our favorite news source, consider this garbage gospel, and then become offended if another intelligent person disagrees with our view! The First Amendment protects our freedom of speech, but when did we begin to interpret that as permission to be controlling, judgmental, and hateful to those who disagree with our views?

The person we elect on Tuesday will be our President.  That person will be working for us.  No, President Obama does not know who I am, and I am okay with that.  However, he serves this country, therefore, he serves us, the Americans.  He works for me, a citizen of the United States of America.  The next President will work for me.  I want to know the right person had been selected for the job.  Most people really want the right person for this very important job.

When deciding how to vote in an election, especially one as contentious as this election has become, I reflect on the issues that are my priorities, the issues I want the candidate to also see as priorities.  I care less about the political affiliation and party politics.  I want a candidate to understand that all life is important.  As a Catholic, pro-life and the protection of all life is my number one priority.  I want all of the rights guaranteed by the Bill of Rights to be valued and protected.  I want a President who will lead all citizens, not just special interest groups and dissatisfied factions upset about racial and economic injustices.  While these injustices need to be addressed and corrected, it is not the President's personal responsibility to choose a side and pass judgement.  It is the President's job to lead all citizens into correcting our faults and building a better country. I want a President who will respect and support our military men and women, and who will honor all promises made to these brave Americans, whether in active duty or as veterans.  I want a President to do his, or her job as spelled out by the U.S. Constitution: see that the laws are enforced.  This requires a well-trained and well prepared law enforcement presence.  Without law enforcement, laws cannot be enforced. While these are my top priorities, they may not be the priorities of my neighbor.  Okay. So?

We all need to vote.  We should vote wisely and by our conscience.  We should research, learn, listen, discuss, not argue and get hateful, and above all, we should pray.  Yes, pray! We need to pray for our country, our leaders, our citizens.  It matters not to me what religion you claim, or do not claim.  Those of us who find comfort and guidance in religion need to pray for this Great Nation.

We are not a perfect country, but we are a great country.  One reason we are so great?  We, the people, vote.  We need to vote for our convictions, not the convictions of others.  Your vote is private and no one has a right to know how you cast your vote.  There is absolutely no risk involved in voting.

This Tuesday, all Americans should journey to the polls and elect our leaders. I will stand in line at the polls with my husband this week, visiting with neighbors and anticipating how valuable this responsibility of voting is for each of us.  I will check in, receive my ballot, say a prayer, and make my decisions.  I will vote!

"God Bless and Save the United States of America!" (Jon Beal)

Hometown Tour

June 19 2016

We, all of us, live in a community. That community might be a large metropolitan area, a mid-sized city, a small town, a suburb, a rural community; but we all belong to the area in which we live.  Depending on how long we have made said community our home, we have a sense of "knowing" our town or city.  But do we really know our community?

As a history buff, my children and husband would say I am a "history addict", I find it fascinating to learn about the new places we visit.  I research and grasp onto the age of a town, who settled there first, what was the main economic foundation, is there any Civil War relevance,  what other note worthy events happened throughout its history, etc...

My immediate family settled in Fulton, Missouri 20 years ago.  I was, and still am, working at St. Peter Catholic School, and the house we purchased was two blocks from school.  I love Fulton, Missouri, and respect its rich history.  I am knowledgeable about the Iron Curtain Speech, Margaret Thatcher's visit, Gorbachev's visit, the movie King's Row, and the connection with the Gray Ghost Trail.

Fulton is home to fine academic institutions, including our home parish of St. Peter.  There is the Missouri School for the Deaf, established in the 1850s, two colleges, Westminster and William Woods, Kingdom Christian Academy, and a public school system that served our children well. The nuclear plant outside of town employs many residents, as does the Dollar Store Warehouse.  We have Ovid Bell Press, a hospital, two grocery stores, and amazing theater, several drug stores, a newspaper, five banking establishments, and an amazing downtown area known as The Brick District.  Fulton also serves as the county seat for Callaway County.

Because I was familiar with Fulton, I assumed my children were as well.  Because I am a history teacher, and because two of our children had me for a junior high teacher, the kids know the HISTORY of Fulton, but I don't believe they truly know the residential fibers that holds this small American city together.  Why do I believe this?

My daughter Coby, the police officer, has a friend at work that is very interested in historical homes throughout Missouri.  She and Coby visited recently about the abundance of history throughout our Show Me State, and Coby mentioned growing up in Fulton.  As the conversation continued, Coby said she would bring back pictures of the lovely homes in Fulton to share with her co-worker.  So, off we went yesterday to check out and photograph the beautiful homes throughout Fulton, Missouri.

Coby's dog Griffen was our companion for this short outing.  Coby asked me to take her down Court Street, "where all the pretty houses are."  Admittedly, there are beautiful houses along Court Street, and I always enjoy taking that route to the downtown area.  However, there are many amazing homes throughout the city!

We walked Court Street, stretching our legs and letting Griffen enjoy the warm afternoon.  Coby took several pictures, finding something unique and interesting with each subject.  Her friend at work is very interested in homes with the original windows or with stain glass.  Of course, Coby took several photos of her favorite house on Court Street.

After visiting Court Street, I began to drive to other areas of town, pointing out several houses I thought were photo-worthy. I was aware of homes designed by Morris Frederick Bell, who made Fulton his home in 1871. We also drove passed the Hockaday House, which I find fascinating for its historical value and endurance of nearly 200 years.

As we enjoyed our  hour and a half, 33 mile tour of winding through the tree shaded streets of our quiet town, Coby often remarked that she didn't know about "this home" or "that" historical point.  I was surprised that she was excited by the residential history of our historic town.

Do we really know where we live?  Do we take the interest, and then the time, to learn about our communities?  History is made each and every day.  At the time, many people do not realize how important that event, speech, or person may become in the annuls of American History.  And most events, speeches, and persons are forgotten after the moment.  However, each is important to our neighborhoods, towns, and possibly our states. We must take an interest in our local history.  It is the life of our communities.

As the summer days have arrived, and it may be too uncomfortable to be outside in the yard during the early evening, take a tour of you hometown.  With the internet, anyone can start researching the amazing buildings, parks, museums, and monuments each town has to offer.  Local libraries are still the best source of information, as is the local historical society.  With the amazing cameras in cell phones, a driving tour is easily photographed through the car window.

These short day tours can lead to exploration in history, architecture, culture, or at the very least, an interest in the "pretty houses".  We are part of the community, and we need to know our community; it is our home.


If you live in Fulton, Missouri, here are a few websites that will help you explore the local history of our fine city.
http://shsmo.org/historicmissourians/name/b/bell/

http://www.kchsoc.org/fulton.html

http://thebrickdistrict.tripod.com/

http://www.dbrl.org/callaway-county-public-library

Legacy of Fatherhood

June 17, 2016

Within the last week I made the time to clean, I mean really clean, my office.  No this post is not going to be about cleaning my office. However some items I found while purging through 20 years of accumulated stuff caused me to reflect on my father's sense of humor.

Kirk Hartnett had a wicked, dry sense of humor.  Our family has always been big on story-telling, especially telling stories about each other.  We have some fabulous stories about Dad and the stunts he would pull.  While cleaning through my office this week, I found a life-sized poster of Dad in his deputy's uniform that he gave my husband.  In the back of a desk drawer, I found a tiny "review mirror" to be clipped onto one's eye glasses.  He loaned that mirror to me so I could convince my students I had eyes in the back of my head.  Two years ago, with dad's plan and advice, I hid a cordless speaker in a colleague's classroom and then played Christmas music at random times throughout the day, interrupting her class. He would torture my brother Jake with the TV's volume via the remote. He loved pulling one over on a friend, a son, or a son-in-law.

Growing up, as most daughters do, I saw my dad as a bigger-than-life hero!  As the teen years and college day rolled around, I saw him as blending of John Wayne and George Patton. He was not a saint. in fact he could be very hard headed and encouraged and expected the best from all of us. His temper could be quick, sharp, direct, then short lived when dealing with us kids. He was not terribly social, and he and I clashed often these last ten years as we each called the other out on what we perceived as rude behavior.  Kirk was certainly the patriarch of our family.  Mom, Jake, and I have referred to him as "Mr. Good News" and "Himself" throughout the years, as he could be very definite in his opinions and views on how things should be done.  He had a "it's my way of the highway" motto; one my brother swears I have inherited.

Kirk had a softer side that many didn't always see, and that he didn't share easily.  He loved the beauty of nature; the old time flowers, dew first thing in the morning, a whippoorwill's or quail's call, a new born calf standing for the first time, a storm rolling in from the southwest, seeing eagles on the drive to church. He truly enjoyed his grandchildren and was a good listener and sounding board for each one as they grew to adulthood. His softest, most gentle side was saved for Mom.  Our "golden rule": never make mom cry.

With Father's Day coming up on Sunday, I have been mentally working on a post for the occasion, but have been struggling with how to approach it.  Regardless of our relationships with our fathers, each father is a very important corner stone of our own foundation as a person. Very few of us had a Mike Brady or a Ward Cleaver for a dad.  We had, as fathers, human beings, men who were doing the absolute best they could to fill a demanding role, that of someone's father.

Fatherhood looks very different today than it did 100 years ago, fifty years or even 20 years ago.  Families look different, but that does not demean the role a father has in the life of his children.  Father's Day is a day to honor and appreciate our fathers.  This is usually done with gifts, bar-b-cues, family time, and hopefully love and appreciation.

A father's influence does not include one generation, but filters down through generations, leaving a family legacy.  My dad was a third generation member of the Kansas City Board of Trade, following the example of his grandfather John Hartnett and father Dris Hartnett.  Dad worked in the grain business most of his adult life, started out at ground level and working his way up to be general manager of the Fredonia ADM plant.

Dad was a hunter and a fisherman, as was his father. Dad's passion for archery and deer hunting was stronger than Dris's, and that passion has been passed onto my generation and my children's generation.  My memories of Grandpa John are of a quiet, stern man, and both Dris and my dad, Kirk, could be the same.  As my children can attest to, I can be rather stern. Kirk had a very strong moral compass and expected everyone he dealt with to have the same.  A high school friend of mine referred to dad as "the last honest American".  My brother Jake, my three children, and I have that same corner stone in our foundation.

Kirk was fair.  Whether it was a business deal, a child raising issue, or welcoming a child's new spouse to the family, dad was fair.  My husband, Keith, was not a rancher, hunter, small town, country boy when we married.  In fact he was very different than the rest of us, and that was his charm.  My dad worked very hard to get to know Keith, even though "he dressed funny".  These two men forged a very close and solid friendship, a unique relationship of jokes, sharing dreams, outdoor channel marathons, hunting, advice, and companionship. Dad set another stone in the family foundation, and I see that stone in Keith when we are loudly discussing politics or starting a big household project.

The 11:00 a.m. Mass this Sunday at our parish is being said for Kirk, and I will be thinking of him as we pray, sing the hymns, and honor all fathers.  I am sure that there will be a glass or two raised in his name that afternoon, and there will be stories shared and laughed over.  This is the first Father's Day that I won't be calling Daddy, or sending a card, but I have many reasons to celebrate the day. My husband is an amazing father to our three children! My dad left a wonderful legacy of true fatherhood to his children and grandchildren. Future generations will exhibit the traits and values Kirk held dear, and they will know and share the stories.

Objection to Acceptance?

April 23, 2016

Tatoos; not a fan.  While I must admit, some tatoos are beautiful pieces of art, I generally do not like the idea.  My daughter has a college friend, a beautiful young woman, who has at least one 'sleeve' and other tatoos of vibrant colors and intricate designs.  I know each tat has a story and symbolism; telling her 'story', but I can't help but wonder if she will ever regret the ink when she is my age.

Coby, our daughter, got her first tatoo a few years ago, after she had left home and was self-sufficient.  It is a nice Celtic knot on the top of her foot.  She held her ground when I made comments about permance and a rather nasty comment about branding herself like livestock. When my parents first saw the Celtic knot, and reacted much more calmly than either of us anticipated, Coby explained that the Celtic knot represented for her the Holy Trinity and the bond she has with her two brothers.  My dad was accepting, not encouraging, but accepting.  He teased her about it, but that was it.

After my dad died, our kids discussed the idea of having a tatoo designed to honor their grandfather.  I had sternly laid out the rule of "No tatoos until you don't need my info for college financial aid applications", and I was not asked to lift this edict for our youngest who is attending UCM in Warrensburg, Missouri.  Yet, the more the kids talked about it and tossed about some differnt designs and the placement options, I lifted the 'ban'.  Mark, the oldest son, nailed down the design, but decided he was not committed to a tatoo.

Last evening, Coby, and her youngest brother, Jerimiah, made that committment and acquired a tatoo to honor and remember their grandfather.  They chose a representation of the Timber Rock brand, originally designed by dad when our family established the family cattle business, Timber Rock Ranch.

I must admit the tatoo artist did an excellent job, and the tatoos looks just like our family brand.  I like them.  Perhaps the circumstance has softened my originally firm objection. Maybe I have 'mellowed' some over the last four or five years.  I am still not a fan, overall, of tatoos, but these two are adults and have a right to make their own decisions. The permance of a tatoo is probably my strongest objection; I am not sure.

I do admire Coby and Jerimiah for holding firm to their decision to honor their grandfather.  I also am proud of Mark for standing by his decision not to participate.  As close as my kids are, they each stay true to their individual paths.

Would my dad be pleased? I honestly do not know how he would react.  He loved his grandchildren and respected their opinions. I think it was a brave, bold, probably somewhat painful, and respectful gesture that will make their bond even stronger.  In later years, it will make a great beer drinking story!

Tatoos; not sure if I'm a fan...

A Sixty Year Journey

April 16th, 2016

My parents, Madeleine and Kirk Hartnett shared an amazing journey for 60 years,  It began at a 'mixer', de la Salle Academy and Notre Dame de Sion had a school dance.  De la Salle was a military Catholic high school, and Notre Dame de Sion was a Catholic convent school. A school dance; a true love story began.

Kirk met Madeleine at the mixer, the evening went well, and he asked her to his school formal the next week.  As family tradition tells the story, the formal was a success and Kirk returned home and announced he had met the woman he was going to marry!

There was mom's business, MLZ Enterprizes, dad's stint at Kings Point in New York, mom's freshman year at the university, and a wedding on Thanksgiving morning 56 years ago.  The newlyweds moved to Atchison, Kansas where dad attended Benedictine College and they both ran the local drive-in picture show.  Oh the stories Daddy would tell about dollar-a-carload night!

The Hartnett's returned to Kansas City, living in Prairie Village. I arrived. Dad worked on the Kansas City Board of Trade and Mom worked for her family's business, Zahner Diaper Service.  My brother Jake arrived, and the young Hartnetts moved to Fredonia, Kansas.

Kirk had a beautiful house built behind St. Margaret's Hodpital, and life was good.  At one point, my folks enjoyed an inheritance and pondered buying a boat or buying horses.  The horses won out.  That was the beginning of an adveture that became the family business that exists today; Timber Rock Ranch.

A sixty acres parcel of property was purchased. A 75 year old farm house was refurbished. The Hinthorne homestead was purchased and Santa Gertrudis Herford cross cattle were the stock of choice.  Another 140 acres was purchased, and the ranch became a lifestyle.

Kirk worked 35 years for ADM in Fredonia, and Madeleine managed the daily running of the ranch; haying the cattle, cutting ice when necessary, repairing water gaps, and overseeing the books of the business, The two raised their children, made wonderful friends, and instilled a great love of family in my brother and me.

After my brother and I had become adults, and moved from home, the cattle business was dissolved and property was sold.  Kirk pursued another interest; law enforcement.  Shortly there afterwards, Madeleine also went to work for the Wilson County Sheriff's Office.  Riding horses wasn't done often, but they bought a boat.

Grandchildren arrived on the scene and great memories were made aboard the Rainmaker II! Retrement came to visit, and then they both went back to work when a new sheriff was elected.  A grandchild followed in the law enforcement footsteps, and grandsons came to "help out" during summer breaks from college.  There were minor surgeries, a broken wrist, major surgeries, new cattle purchased, a serious addiction to archery, trips to Fulton, Missouri for grandchildren's graduations and theatre productions, and life marched on.

Retirement, once again from law enforcement was the advent of the 'golden years', but Kirk's and Madeleine's journey took a differnt turn than they had anticipated.  Poor health and a broken hip tied dad close to home, and mom was beside him, helping, encouraging, pushing, and praying.  The years had not always been easy, but the two of them were partners and journeyed forth with the knowledge they could face anything together.

This last November Kirk and Madeliene celebrated their 56th anniversary.  Their kids and grandkids all convened on the homestead to celebrate, and the weekend was wonderful.  Dad's health was failing and he was facing an uphill battle with cancer, but spirits were high and everyone enjoyed the holiday.

Photo by Alexandra Stoysich

Ten days later, Kirk was gone.  The beautiful journey of 60 years had taken another unexpected and unwelcome turn.  He may be gone, but the love my parents shared is still very much alive in the memories and the smiles of his family.  His son continues to manage Timber Rock Ranch.  His granddaughter continues in the family tradition to "protect and serve". His grandsons live each day in the knowledge that hard work has great rewards. Madeleine continues onward, completing 'projects' the two of them had planned to accomplish in the future.  We all remember his motto of "work hard, play hard".

The journey isn't over, it is just different.  The old, seemingly trite, expression of "life goes on" is true.  We all face a different path then we had planned on, but we continue to travel on. 

Madeleine, mom, is beginning a new journey as she and a valued family friend, Mary Jo, head out for Houston, Texas this week, and then--just because-- on to New Orleans! What a wonderful adventure the two ladies will enjoy as they visit Kirk's brother and then enjoy a Jazz Festival weekend in the Big Easy. One journey may seem to end, but  in reality, it changes.  Daddy will always be on mom's journeys, he is a silent partner now. He is remembered everyday, and his influence is constant in our decisions.  It began as a sixty year journey, but the travels will go on for many years, and his memory will be with us each mile of the way.