It's a BEAR!

I had been told that neighbors here in Virginia had spotted a momma bear with two cubs around here.  No one had a camera handy, so no photos were available for proof.  Even so, I thought it would really be cool to see one - or three - before we left.

Throughout the day I'm always scanning the fields and treelines for any kind of wildlife.  Sometimes it seems there are deer within sight all day long; other times I may not see any.  Now with winter setting in I occasionally get the binoculars for a close up look.  From time to time there is a buck with the doe, and his antlers get bigger every day it seems.

Yesterday about 4:30 in the afternoon I was looking out the kitchen window through the binoculars at a buck and three doe.  Sometimes there are as many as thirteen deer, so I was scanning to the right to see if there were any more deer coming out of the treeline.  What I thought, at first glance, was a big dog became, as I adjusted the binoculars, a black BEAR!  Awesome!

Camera!?!  Is it fully charged?  It's almost dusk; will it even have enough light to grab the picture?

Uh-oh, John is due home from work any minute - what if he pulls up not knowing the bear is there?!

Where's the cell phone?  I need to call our landlord/hosts, too.

How can I do all of this simultaneously AND keep an eye on the bear!?!  Aargh.

First things first - a picture.  I go outside, zoom out as far as possible, get a quick picture, and then back the lens off and take another.  Then I dial John's number.  No, better call Cheryl and Jerry first to let them know, in case they need to get their cat and the cat food in so as not to tempt the bear.  Maybe I can do both - one on the cell and one on the house phone...  This is gettin' crazy.

Just then John pulls in the driveway.  I grab up the camera again and run outside to give it to him - he's a better photographer than I am - and that way I can call Cheryl while he snaps away.  The bear has moved a lot closer to us, but John's closing the van door scares him away.  John was able to get a couple of photos, but they look suspiciously like those famous Big Foot sightings. 

 Seems the first photo I took is the best of the lot:

But here's the second, just so you can see them all:

I never was able to get Cheryl to answer the phone, so I emailed her the picture.  She said Jerry REALLY wanted to see the bear himself.  Sorry, I tried... just couldn't get everything done at once.  But now there IS photographic proof that she's out there, so we will just have to keep our eyes peeled.  I'm guessin' I won't get anything done for days (if not weeks) for staring out the windows!

I wonder if she was stalking the deer?  I wonder where her cubs were?  I wonder how a bear-skin rug would look hangin' on the wall of my log cabin!!

Our Christmas Wish To You

As I blog I confess that sometimes I have the television on.  Through the Thanksgiving holiday there have been a LOT of Christmas movies on.  They always have a sad element, a time of hanging in there, and then by Christmas dreams come true.  Always corny, but the more I think about it, the more I realize:  Christmas happiness is a CHOICE.  It's like counting your blessings.  There are blessings all around, but if you don't want to acknowledge them, they just hang out in the background, giving to you but standing alone.  I think that's what counting your blessings is all about, the gathering together of joy and strength by the opening of your eyes and your heart.

There is a Christian hymn by Johnson Oatman, Jr. published in 1893 that is sung in all the churches I've ever been in:


When upon life’s billows you are tempest tossed,
When you are discouraged, thinking all is lost,
Count your many blessings, name them one by one,
And it will surprise you what the Lord hath done.

Are you ever burdened with a load of care?
Does the cross seem heavy you are called to bear?
Count your many blessings, every doubt will fly,
And you will keep singing as the days go by.

When you look at others with their lands and gold,
Think that Christ has promised you His wealth untold;
Count your many blessings. Wealth can never buy
Your reward in heaven, nor your home on high.

So, amid the conflict whether great or small,
Do not be disheartened, God is over all;
Count your many blessings, angels will attend,
Help and comfort give you to your journey’s end.

Through the trials and troubles of life, but especially over the Christmas holidays, please find (search if you have to!) find your many blessings, COUNT THEM, NAME THEM ONE ... BY ... ONE, and your joy will return ten-fold.  Which brings to mind a Bible verse, Luke 6:38:

Give, and it shall be given unto you; good measure, pressed down, and shaken together, and running over.  For with the same measure that you use, it shall be measured back to you.

Somewhere along my Christian walk I was told to think of a box of cereal.  (I always think of Frosted Flakes!)  When they fill it at the factory they top it off, but by the time it gets shaken together in shipping and I open the box, it's only about 3/4 full.  Whatever I give now (a smile, a hug, a dollar), I eventually realize it has come back to me, not just 3/4 full, but running over - everyone is smiling, I get genuine hugs from strangers and loved ones, the money?  Try it, you'll figure it out.

So, our Christmas wish to you is Frosted Flakes and a calculator (so you can keep up with all the blessings!)

Merry Christmas, Everyone !!

The Very First Thanksgiving was in ... Texas!

Francisco Vasquez de Coronado celebrated the very first Thanksgiving in 1541 - in Texas!  Who knew?  John and I did!  The facts say it was celebrated, along with other foods, with grapes and pecans.  Though John and I believe the Palo Duro Canyon location (one of our favorite places in Texas) is correct, others say, no, grapes or pecans don't grow there, so it could not have been.  They say maybe it was Blanco Canyon.

El Paso also lays claim to a first Thanksgiving in North America.  They believe it was in 1589 by Spanish explorer Juan de Oñate and his expedition on April 30, 1598.  They celebrated their survival of crossing the Mexican desert which very nearly ended in starvation and thirst by hundreds of men, women, children and animals.

Either way, these celebrations are evidence of Spain getting the first colonial foothold in North America, and it took the Alamo and the fight for Texas independence to move them south of the border.  The Texas territory back then was a section of land that ran almost all the way to the Canadian border.  Spain nearly split the continent in half !  Just think, we would have lost the "bread basket of the world" and lots of good buffalo/cattle country.  (Note:  there is no such thing as a "buffalo" native to North America - they are American bison.)

The TRADITION we think of every Fall, however, IS based on the Pilgrims in New England in 1623, with the first official one being established in Connecticut in 1639.  By 1649 Thanksgivings were established as an annual celebration.

Most other states held their own Thanksgiving celebrations before a national day of observance was established  by law in 1941.

Regardless of all the above,  these days of recognition were unquestionably taking time out of the routine of living to thank God for His providence.

An International Audience

How fun is this!  We have a way of checking where folks are logging onto our blog from, and our international fame is growing!  Now, besides Russia and Germany, we have folks checking us out from The Netherlands!  Woo-hoo!  I know a few words in Russian and a tad of German, but I don't know ANY Dutch.

From my love of all things John Adams, I know that while Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson were doing their best to get France as an ally during the American Revolution against England, Adams went to the Dutch and was actually able to get some financial loans.  His son, John Quincy Adams, was his secretary while Adams was our Ambassador over there, and he learned to speak and write French and Dutch fluently.  There are even books in the Adams' library in Massachusetts printed in Dutch.  But not me, I'm Dutch-less.

Oh, how I do hope that those overseas are reading things in the blog that would kindle their desire to visit America.  Wouldn't it be fun if I could meet them??!!  I never know where we'll be though, so I don't know how we might manage to make a connection.  I have an old friend that participates in the foreign exchange student program.  That would be so cool!

So, yes, our international audience is growing.  And so is our readership.  Getting close to 2,000 now.

Almost 75% of you log on using Windows Operating Systems, almost 20% by iPhone and Android, and a few by iPad and Linux.  One even logged on by iPod (? Can you do that with an iPod ???)

As far as browsers go, 36% log on using Chrome, 31% by Internet Explorer, 14% by Mozilla Firefox, 12% by Safari, 4% Mobile Safari, and one using Opera (does that go with the Linux?)

My stats page also shows a map of the whole world and highlights those countries that are reading our blog.  Do you know how big Russia is?  Put that together with the U.S. and the Netherlands and it's mighty pretty!

Thank you.  Thank you all for making me feel connected and even cared about.  You are all so special!

Black Friday is too late!

Yuppers, Black Friday is too late.  I already bought my Christmas present.  You see, we have this van and the passenger door panel has been popping lose and catching every time the door is opened.  John keeps "whacking" it back on, and if it didn't get permanently fixed pretty soon, I was gonna whack him.  Well, his whole workshop of tools is back home.  (Have I told you that he builds furniture for fun?  Sofa tables, end tables, microwave tables on casters, free-standing chess boards, solid-Cherry and glass what-not cabinets... even a four-poster bed made from pine trees he cut down from our forest.)  Anyway, his lifetime collection of tools is back in Texas, so, rather than whack him, I bought ME a cordless screw driver/drill for Christmas.  I have wanted one ever since I bought one for one of our grandsons.  It's not the big ol' man-size kind, but small enough to fit in my hand, not wear out my arm holding it up, and a lithium battery that holds its charge for up to 18 months when not in use.  So, John took my Christmas present and, for his gift to me, FIXED THE DOOR PANEL!  (Saved himself a whacking, too.)

And John is asking to get HIS Christmas present next weekend:  a 3-day trip back to Gettysburg like we did Philadelphia.  He really loves the Civil War things - has for years.  While we were in Kauai, Borders Books closed their store there.  John took advantage of that and bought a $75 book on the Civil War for $9.97.  (THAT'S the kind of shopping he likes to do!)  It's over 400 pages long, and he's been reading it almost every night since we came to Virginia.  Everything he's ever read about the War has been coming to life for him as we have gone around to these different battlefields - and more is revealed to him with every trip.  (Now he's getting pretty interested in the American Revolution, too.)

So, Black Friday is too late.  Christmas gifting is already done for us. Well, there are still the kids and grandkids ...

Our Little Farmhouse in Virginia

I should tell you more about our lodgings!  I suppose some folks might prefer a hotel concept for anonymity / privacy and having their "maid" service.  I simply can't imagine surviving on a microwave and ma-a-a-ybe a stove top (no oven) for weeks, or months even - not to mention the year-plus we were in Hawaii! 

Our Kauaian home was only one mile from the hospital, had an okay selection of kitchen ware, but lots and lots of beach towels, full-size washer and dryer, a huge dining table, a huge flat-screen cable-connected TV, a covered carport, and a covered lanai (patio).  There was only a 4-burner stove top which was a bummer, but a member of the church we attended loan us a convection oven the size of a microwave and that helped.  The host/landlord went out and BOUGHT a king-size bed when we expressed concern with our recruiter over John's Texas-size 6'4" size.  Can't get much more accommodating than that, huh?  When we arrived, they had chocolates on the bed pillows and orchids in the vase on the dining room table.  They were EXCELLENT hosts/landlords. 

Our rental car company, Island Cars, was beyond accommodating. 

Here in Virginia it's been pretty much the same thing.  The 2-bedroom home is FULLY furnished with two cable-connected televisions, high-speed internet connection, house-wide stereo/AM-FM/CD system, over/under washer-dryer, a whole wall of books, a wide front porch to sit on, and it is beautifully decorated.  It is a full kitchen with every kind of thing you can imagine including Pampered Chef cookware.  We are less than ten miles from the hospital and it takes about ten minutes to get there.  The fields were bursting with gorgeous tobacco plants and deer; now they fields have winter wheat, but the deer are still here.  Yesterday while John and I worked on Christmas gifts in the house, our hosts were out mowing, putting up Christmas decorations, burning leaves.  I almost felt guilty - but what can a Christmas elf do but work on gifts??

I cannot imagine why travelers would want anything different.  Except for not having family close by, it's just like being at home.  Best I can tell these places have been the same price range as extended stay hotels.  So why not stay in a more "homey" place?

Wreck of the Old 97

What a story!  It's like the Titanic in miniature.  The "company" says, we have a penalty clause in the contract that gets us fined for every minute we're late getting into Spencer, North Carolina, and we're an hour behind already.  So put the pedal to the metal and get us back on schedule.

I remember a TV commercial showing a terrible traffic accident with a caption, "He was in such a hurry to get to work that he killed three people."  Well, guess what...

In September, 1903, 33 year old Joseph A. ("Steve") Broady was the engineer, and ol' 97 was on the stretch between Lynchburg, Virginia to Danville.  (I don't know why they call it "Old 97" because it was brand spanking new.)  Coming into Danville there was a 3-mile down hill run and the brakes failed.  He reversed the engine and locked the brakes up.  A flange on one of the wheels broke, stuck in a railroad tie, and flipped the train off the trestle.  It was just a U.S. Mail train, not a passenger train, so only a few people were killed.  (That's good news - unless you were a family member of the dead!)

In the mural you see birds on the right side of the picture.  Apparently there were about 100 yellow canaries in the baggage car that were set free by the wreck.  It must have been eerie seeing those sweet birds flying around and sitting amidst all of the wreckage.


There was a song written about this one that has been sung by just about every country singer you can imagine.  I Googled "Wreck of the Old 97" and came up with some of the lyrics.  John sat down and sang them like I sing tunes of the 60's.  (Well, he sang on key, and I sing off key, but you get the idea.)  I don't know how he knows all of these songs, but he does love his music.  There are actually 11 verses to the whole song - one for every person killed in the accident.

Well they gave him his orders at Monroe Virginia

sayin' Steve you're way behind time,
This is not 38 this is old 97
you must put her into Spencer on time.

Then he turned around and said to his black greasy fireman,
shovel on a little more coal
And when we cross that White Oak Mountain
watch old 97 roll.

But it's a mighty rough road from Lynchburg to Danville
With a line on a three mile grade.
It was on that grade that he lost his air brakes,
see what a jump he made.

He was goin' down the grade makin' 90 miles an hour,
his whistle broke into a scream.
He was found in the wreck with his hand on the throttle
'a scalded to death by the steam.

Then the telegram come to Washington station,
and this is how it read:
Oh that brave engineer that run old 97,
he's a layin' in old Danville dead.

So now all you ladies you better take a warnin'
from this time on and learn,
Never speak harsh words to your true lovin' husband,

He may leave you and never return.

The Murder of Merriwether Lewis (of Lewis and Clark fame)

Our church here in Danville is planning a trip to Richmond, Virginia for lunch and a visit to the Science Museum/IMAX theater to see "Lewis and Clark."  We can't go when they're planning to, so we decide will go on our own.

I program ye' ol' GPS unit for a restaurant John has found on line, and we're off!

Lovely drive - especially with your best friend by your side - and just before we get to Richmond we know from earlier trips that there is a humongous Wal-Mart.  John decides to stop there and mosey around since we're a bit ahead of schedule.  I've been trying to get him to buy a coat before really cold weather kicks in.  Well, if you know John, he's part polar bear.  He's determined not to get a coat, but he will consider a light jacket of some sort.  I see a zippered hoodie that's super-soft and lined with super-soft faux-fleece - and it's only $20.  Surprise!  John likes it.

At checkout it rings up for something like $27 (with tax.)  We're certain the sign said $20, so I march off for confirmation.  Sure 'nough, $20 it was.  So we go over to the Customer Service Center, 'splain what we're there for, and SHE marches off for confirmation.  YEA! we were right.  (Duh.)  So we get our $7 refund and hit the road.

Now we're NOT ahead of schedule, but still doin' good.  Lil' Miss GPS is in control and in no time we're zeroing in on the restaurant address.  Only there's no restaurant.  There is a huge, gated corporate parking lot and no retail in sight.  Aargh.  We end up at (another) Long John Silver's.  It's good, just not the Mexican I was expecting.  Then off we go to the IMAX.

Uh-huh.  Another glitch.  Right at the intersection we have to cross to get to the IMAX parking lot the road is barricaded for a MARATHON!   I mean, come on, a parade can pass you by, but a marathon goes on forever...  As far as we can see to the left and right are police and barricades.

John, control the adrenaline.  Breathe.  There is either a way to drive across, or we'll park on this side and do a lil' marathon of our own.  So we start circling blocks, probing, penetrating the defenses.  By sheer dumb luck (no GPS involved) we find a tiny back street and, for whatever reason, the police direct us across the marathon route.  We end up behind the Science Museum and fumble our way to a parking lot that might work.

We hustle as best we can with my slight vertigo still aggravating me, and yea! we've made it. 

The Richmond Science Museum and IMAX Theater started out as a train station.  You might say it was a fancy building for a train station, but travel back then was almost considered exotic.  Look at the dinnerware used to serve travelers aboard the trains back then:

They had display cases with some pretty cool model trains and train memorabilia.

And it is a science museum so how about some two-story high human DNA:

Or a small airplane:

It is a beautiful building, and I'm sorry we didn't buy a ticket to go through the museum, too, but we opted only for the IMAX film, "Lewis and Clark."

Several years ago John bought a copy of the "Lewis and Clark" soundtrack, and it is one of my most favorite CD's.   I was really looking forward to seeing this film.  So, down we go into the bowels of this enormous building.  Down and down some more.  Finally at the bottom, we enter the theater and, guess what, up and up and up we have to walk to get to the "middle" seats.  Sound like a pain?  Try it with a mild case of vertigo.  At least the "down and down" part was in a series of staircases.  Inside the theater it was simply a one-line-of-steps-up ordeal.  Half dark as theaters are wont to be, everyone that had arrived before us watching, I stagger on like a drunk lil' ol' lady.  (Take comfort in the fact we were far, far from home and completely anonymous...  It's a good thing we DIDN'T come with the church!)

Finally, we reach the seats we think will be good, sit, and look up at the screen.  Uh, oh.  This may not be so cool.  After a little experimenting I find that if I close one eye the surround-motion that is the hallmark of IMAX isn't so "dizzying."  (Kind of defeats the whole concept of being "in" the moment, huh.)  I close the eye on the side away from John so that he doesn't know.  The film (as I saw it) was good, the story was great, the music was phenomenal.

In the after-film notes I catch something about the death of Merriwether Lewis at the young age of 35 in 1809, and William Clark living to a ripe old age with lots of children and grandchildren.  It triggers something I had read a few years back about Clark's "suicide" actually being a murder.  I Google it and find on the History News Network:

Here is an expert in firearms who bumbles along, shooting his head ("grazing" it or blowing away a "piece of his forehead") then his chest (side, back, or abdomen and possibly stopping to reload since Mrs. Grinder (the owner of the inn he is staying at on the Neches Traces) said there were three shots from his two single-shot pistols). He then crawls to the next cabin to beg for water, and crawls back to his cabin before lingering for several more hours in agony. Incredibly, some stories depict the medical officer of the Lewis and Clark expedition now unable to locate any vital artery as he slashes himself wildly with his razor before he finally perishes. This is the version that many claim is the most plausible explanation for Lewis's death.

His body was exhumed in the 1840's and the determination then was that he was shot in the back of the head.  (That explains the missing piece of his forehead.)  How many suicides have you heard of where the person shot himself in the back of the head? 

As for William Clark, as I said he lived to a ripe old age, but did you know he raised Sacagawea's son from the time he was six years old?  Check this out from the Lewis and Clark website:

Sacagawea’s son Jean Baptiste Charbonneau, or “Pompy,” was three months old when the Corps of Discovery left Fort Mandan. His parents accepted William Clark’s offer to educate him, and he moved into Clark’s St. Louis home when he was six. At age 18, he went to Europe for six years with Duke Paul of Wuerttemburg, an enthusiastic early tourist of the American West. Returning to the U.S., Jean Baptiste became a mountain man and fur trader, and a guide whose clients included John C. Frémont. He later settled in California, and died in Oregon, en route to Montana, in 1866.

And so, that is, as they say, the rest of the story.  Adieu.

Today on the Blue Ridge

Today we're going up onto the Blue Ridge Parkway and head north toward the Shenandoah Valley.  It snowed pretty good up there two days ago.  It's probably all gone now, but John wants to go anyway.

We rummage through all of the brochures we've acquired.  For a general overview we pull out the magazine- slick 100-page, "Blue Ridge Parkway" and the newspaper-like insert, "The Blue Ridge Digest."   Comparing maps and where we've been before, we think we will high-tail it (like a deer flagging as it flees from a sight or sound!), we'll high-tail it up to the Buena Vista / Natural Bridge area and pick up the Parkway then.

From there to the Shenandoah is about fifty miles and speed limits on the Parkway are certainly not your Interstate speeds, so it will be a good afternoon of sight seeing.  Young George Washington surveyed this entire area when he was just a teenager.  (Remember Natural Bridge where he carved his initials high up on the wall?) 

According to the "slick" version, we might mosey over to Natural Chimneys (made  from ancient seabed deposits by erosion), check out the Discovery Museum in Harrisonburg or the Museum of the Shenandoah Valley, or one of my favorites, a CAVE. Yes, yes, yes!  I love speelunking - especially if it's an "unimproved" cave.  There is also the Frontier Culture Museum which is a tight collection of seven working farms with workers in period costume from the 1600's through the 1800's.  John's not too excited about caves or the farms, but we'll see what the day brings, and I'll let you know!

Other Things at Tannenbaum

When you leave the map room, there is still lots more to see. 

All prices until after the Revolutionary War were in English pounds.  Below are the Tavern Rates for the County of Guilford in November, 1794 compared to today's U.S. dollars.  Almost $20 for a half pint of rum, but you could have lodging (for you OR your horse) for about $3.  Check out the price for a half pint of brandy!!!

The price of a meal hasn't changed all that much.

 

The British tried to control the colonists by manipulating currency (how people pay for things):

"There is no money; every one buys and pays with their commodities, of which corn, pork, pitch, and tar are the chief."  The British encouraged provincial dependence through various trade regulations, and by prohibiting the exportation of hard (coin) money from England. 

So, no hard coin money resulted in commodity trading known as commodity notes.  Product "x" equaled a designated value and "notes" were issued accordingly.  

There was paper money, but counterfeiting was pretty simple back then (no special paper or inks) and there was no consistency of value between colonies.

A little friendly, neighborly bartering seemed the most reliable way to conduct business.  So, you grew your crop, harvested it, and took it to the nearest mill.  Those mills were almost always driven by water, and we thought the three different ways water turned the gears that moved the millstones that ground the grain was interesting.

Just in case you ever wanted to build your own I thought I'd include a diagram of how it works. :-)  I supposed you could attach an ox or horse to make things go round and round, but water seems like the best idea to me.

So, you have your grain, and you bring it to the mill.

The owner can give you credit for all the grain, or you can have it ground up and he can keep some for himself as payment for his work.  Now you have flour or oatmeal that you can barter to someone else for, say, a new plow - or to the blacksmith for repairing your old plow!

If you're a fisherman at heart instead of a farmer, you might use one of the these traps to catch a bunch of fish and have your own product to trade for flour.

If you were a rancher raising cattle - I'll give you flour to make bread with if you'll give me beef to eat (ribeye, please!)  EVERYone is happy; the rancher isn't a "sod-buster" and the fisherman isn't tied to any particular piece of land, but everyone gets to eat and pursue "life, liberty, and ... happiness" in his own way.

However, if you didn't pay your debts, guess what happens:

Tannenbaum Historic Park, Greensboro, NC

Uh, oh.  The British under Lord Cornwallis are in the Greensboro area and have taken over the Hoskins farmstead as their staging area.  Cornwallis' 1,900 trained soldiers face off against 4,500 American militia and regulars in a battle that proved to be the largest fought in the Southern campaign for American independence.  (Well, for the British, I guess it was the Southern campaign against the colonist's rebellion.)

It's March 15, 1781, and it will almost be a fight to the finish.

Notice the tightly grouped ways folks fought back then.  In a formation like that even I could hit someone!

This diorama was cool because it had audio to go with it.  John pushed the button, the room went dark and this deep menacing voice came out of nowhere describing the battle.  Spotlights would go on and off, sound effects... It was a fun way to learn.

Pretty awesome detail, huh?

Makes me think back to when my youngest brother and I played with cowboys and Indians doing battle on a heaped up blanket that was supposed to be a mountain.  (Not a bad photo for a cell phone in a dark room.)

When all was said and done, another British "victory" like this would have wiped out the whole British force:  Cornwallis lost 25% of his men to win this battle.  Those that were later buried here on the Hoskins farmstead were said to have changed that little piece of ground to "forever England."  But that's the ONLY land England got out of this war!  Seven months later the war would be over. 

Our Founding Fathers persevered for the right to be free.  Free as no other group of mankind had ever been in the past.  Free to fail or succeed on their own merits, not because they were born with a title.

A Serious Moment

How does one transition from being a rebel country back to being a part of a united country?

It might have been different if Lincoln had not been assassinated.  It might have been oh, so much easier.  The horrors of carpetbaggers and reconstruction and racism might have been avoided.

But the federal government couldn't deal with "might have been."  They had reality staring them in the face, and they had to deal with it then and there.  To think of it as a whole had to be mindboggling. 

Step one was addressed by U.S. Grant when he instructed the Union army to grant permission to Confederate soldiers to simply "go home."  Passes were issued to each soldier individually:

The next problem was where to put the suddenly-freed slaves all across the south.  They had no money, certainly no savings, and much of the southern cities, landscape and wealth had been obliterated by the war, so ways to earn money were few and far between.  Northern abolitionist groups came to the rescue of some by funding housing and schools.  (Interesting how the federal government didn't jump in and spend taxpayer dollars for this.  It allowed private organizations to meet the needs.)

Much like the "Continental" in 1776, the Confederate money became absolutely worthless so even white men were penniless.  Once-wealthy plantation owners (think "Gone With The Wind") lost their lands and homes because they had no money to pay the taxes - and now no slaves to plant the crops to harvest to earn the money to pay the taxes.  Tens of thousands of men had been killed during the Civil War and their widows and children had no way to earn a living.

Segregation became the norm, so separate schools and restaurants and libraries had to be built.

Free elections had to be held, state constitutions had to be rewritten addressing all the issues involved with ending slavery.

Issues large and small HAD to be addressed.  Scattered through the Greensboro Historical Museum were clues to how all of this was accomplished.  I'm sure it was painful for everyone in the United States - and the pain lasted for a long, long time.

A Magic Lantern and Quaker Hats

From horse-drawn wagons to "modern" technology.  A Magic Lantern was a sign of enormous prosperity for a family.

Again I'm researching something for you on the world wide web and, surprise, surprise, I discover that, not only is there a whole museum dedicate to Magic Lanterns, but that it is located in ... Texas!  (San Antonio to be exact.)  The Magic Lantern is known as "the father of motion pictures and the grandfather of television."

In our church/museum they have showcased a series of rooms from a former home in Greensboro with the actual furnishings from that home.  I believe these were from the home of a furniture store owner so the furniture was exquisite.  The seating, however, was so SHORT.  But I guess people were smaller back then.  Really, they were.  No vitamins I'd guess.

I always like when a museum tells you the going price for items "back then."  For instance, to buy this handmade Quaker-style hat in the 1840's, hunters could trade 100 rabbit hides. 

Not so big a deal.  I remember one Christmas when we visited our grandparents.  The first night there us kids shot 53 cottontail rabbits - and this was like 1962!  (That's nineteen-sixty-two, not eighteen-sixty-two.)  We thought that was really neat - until Momma told us we couldn't come in out of the snow (yes, it snows in Texas - especially in the panhandle) until we had skinned and cleaned every one of them!  I was SO glad I was the baby of the family because after awhile Momma took pity on me and let me come in.  Rightly so!  They wouldn't let me hold a knife, so I was no help to them anyway!  (A gun I could hold, but not a knife.  Go figure.)  There was snow on the ground, and all I could do was stand there and shiver!


Just an aside:  Momma always said, if you shoot it, you eat it.  That was to keep my brothers from shooting everything that moved.  She meant it, too.  My brother once shot a huge turtle.  Momma made him clean it, and we ate turtle soup for what seemed an eternity.  I don't believe my brother ever shot another turtle - leastwise not one he told HER about.

In a Covered Wagon

Well, we are FINALLY moving on down to the second floor.  (Remember, the ancient man at the desk advised us to start at the top floor and work our way down...)

Just to remind us that we are in a church, there is a huge stained glass window beside the spiral staircase on our way down.  One of my favorite Biblical scenes:

When what to my wondering eyes appears.... a full-size covered wagon!

It's the Winecoff wagon.  Just like we have Fords and Chevys our grandparents had Conestogas and Winecoffs.  Though they look very similar, the Conestogas had blue paint on the body and red wheels.  Again with the giant horses (six) to pull this massive thing!  I have to seriously resist the urge to hop the rail and crawl up inside this monster.  Look at how big that wheel is compared to 6'3" John!  This is not a replica.  It was donated by the family of the man who owned it five generations ago!

Obviously, this floor tells the story of how people first came to Greensboro, how it got it's name (American Revolutionary War hero and one of George Washington's most trusted aids, Nathanael Greene), 

the history of gold and copper mining, (remember, copper was a major metal for cookwear - still is).  Remember Castle McCullock and panning for gold in North Carolina.

Speaking of cookwear, how about a couple of recipes?

Can you believe it calls for a tea-cup of yeast?!  Oh, you've never made a loaf of bread in your life?  Bummer!  It's a really fun thing to do.  If I put a tea-cup of today's yeast in my homemade bread it would blow the door off the oven.  It would make a great "I Love Lucy" episode for sure.

O. Henry and Edward R. Murrow

O. Henry is one of my favorite authors.  I'm always telling his "Ransom of Red Chief" story on our sons and grandsons.  Someone kidnaps a little boy and tries to ransom him back to the parents.  They refuse to pay the ransom and in no time at all, due to the boy being a Dennis the Menace type, the kidnappers end up paying the parents to take him back.  Sounds so much like our sons and grandsons.  :-)

So, one of the museum storefronts is a drugstore.  Turns out, Porter & Tate Drugstore was owned by Will Porter's uncle.  Will Porter used the pen name "O. Henry"  "O. Henry" used to work here!  He was born and raised in Greensboro, North Carolina.

Will had trouble remembering the names of customers so he began sketching them as a way to help learn their names.

Ever heard of Vick's VapoRub?  It was invented right here!  There was a whole collection of Vick's remedys on display here.

For small children there were jigsaw puzzles showing ingredients for standard remedies.  (Well, John had those puzzles put together in no time at all - must be his medical background...)

You can go to your spice rack today, take out a whole clove, put it next to your toothache and before you know it, the pain will go away.  No Chloroform necessary!  I thought everybody knew that.

Ever wondered what's in Pepto Bismol-type products?  Pepsin, a lil' flavoring, and phosphoric acid maybe?

You have to be AT LEAST as old as we are to remember Edward R. Murrow.  He was born here, too.  Murrow was a pioneer in broadcast journalism who brought live radio reports of the Nazi bombing of London in World War II into the living rooms of America.  He was at the forefront of journalism during the McCarthy era and essentially invented the traditions of television news. Over Murrow's career he was recognized with five Peabody Awards and six Emmy Awards.  "Good night, and good luck."