Another Gladys Box (Part Two)

 

Remember this?  I finally got it sorted through and put away.  It was quite a job.

I found a huge bin for Family Archives, to replace the little one I could no longer fit them into.

Which led to a storage dilemma.  It was simply too big for any of my hidey-holes and I don't want to have to go down to my storage for archives.  

So I started playing bin roulette.  

The one on the floor I bought for Lego blocks, intending to slide it under my loveseat.  It was too tall.

The quilting supplies on the loveseat went to their intended recipient, but I kept the bin.

The green lid is what I was keeping the archives in, Barbie bin held my Lego blocks until it overflowed, and I don't remember were the purple-latch one came from.  

(The little one with the purple lid and checkerboard tin are for gift wrapping.)

The Lego got divided into Barbie and Purple Latch.  For now, anyway.  More on that in a bit.

The two flat bins hold the archives now.  Photos in the smaller, other stuff in the larger. They fit under the bed, where it simply did not occur to me to put Lego.  

This lady remains unidentified.  I still feel very strongly that she's close kin to those surrounding her.

The tinted tots did turn out to be the same kids as in the black-and-white.  Arthur and Marian Parker, my uncle and my mother. 

The storage where I keep holiday decorations is big enough to hold the new huge bin!  Halloween abandoned its red bin for that one.  I think I'll dump all the Lego blocks into the red one, which will fit into a hidey-hole.  Barely. 

Another Gladys Box (Part One)

 These pictures are all kinds of out of order.  Bear with me.  

Second Sister discovered a box of things we believed to have been passed down from our Great-aunt Gladys, socked away in her closet since before I was appointed Family Archivist.  She promptly contacted me and Eldest Sister so we could see what kind of treasure we had.

I kept this felt bookmark-thing because it has my name on it. 

Turns out this Bible belonged originally to our great-grandmother Maggie!  

We figure it went to Gladys at Maggie's death, then possibly to our grandmother (Gladys's sister-in-law) and then to the granddaughter most known for photo albums and keepsakes.

There were two other Bibles, both in better condition than this.  No identification of ownership on them and they've been adopted by The Boy.

The Bible was crammed with newspaper clippings.  Most of the dates were in the 1920s.  A relative few could be connected to my tree, which were taped into the Family Tree Binder.  That gallon baggie up top holds the rest. 

The Bible in question and a few larger, flat keepsakes.

The box after the Bible-in-a-bag was removed.   

Ignore the messy apartment. 

One of the keepsakes.  James Cox ran for President in 1920, with FDR as a running mate!

Photo compare for possible identification.  

The larger ones were in the box, the smaller ones are known to be Arthur and Marian Parker.  

Another comparison for hopeful identification.  The center lady gave us Purkiser vibes, so here she is with some possible kin or even herself.  The known elements are Maggie Purkiser Parker (original owner of the Bible and our great-grandmother), Dora/Anna  Hayes Purkiser (Maggie's mother), and Lida/Lydia Purkiser (Maggie's sister).

One of the few identified photos in the box.  Maggie Purkiser.

Notice the different handwriting as the Bible changed hands.

The Dora on these pages is not Maggie's mother, but her stepdaughter.

*****

More to come... 

No Kings Day

 The situation here - my personal situation - has held steady.  My SSDI hasn't been interrupted, thank all the gods ever.  My food stamps and Medicare/Medicaid haven't changed, but I worry more the longer this goes on.  My area is rife with food pantries.  But not so much Prozac and Metformin pantries.  So I worry more about the meds. 

It's becoming more and more difficult to remain nonpartisan.  MAGA has weaponized the party division even worse than the 2016 election meddling did.  I always hoped, believed, that the Elected would eschew partisanship to fight a blatant abuse of power.  A few of them have and I applaud them.  But far too many of the Republicans are sitting on their hands.  

Most man-on-the-street Republicans are not okay with things as they are.  Nobody I know (or at least nobody I respect) voted for Trump because they hate immigrants.  I suspect gas and grocery prices had a lot to do with it.  Many people blamed Biden for the post-pandemic inflation that the whole world is dealing with.  People vote what they think is best for "me-and-mine".  They expect our checks and balances to, ya know, check and balance. 

The government is in shutdown as I write this.  Both parties are more focused on their own agendas than on what needs to be done. (Nothing new there, but I digress.)  Federal employees, including but not limited to the military, are either going without pay or facing that possibility.  On what planet is this preferable to giving a medical care to non-citizens?  

Today people all over the world are holding No Kings rallies.  Protests about the overreach and abuse of power by the current POTUS.  I have chosen not to participate, mostly due to my crowd phobia and the distance I'd have to drive to find one, but my heart is with them.  And I honestly think we'd be surprised how many of those protestors voted for Donald Trump.  

People who voted for him are now suffering from his policies.  Those who opposed him from the start are gloating! This is not cool.  No one deserves to be screwed out of their livelihood by a person they trusted. They put their trust in the wrong man (or men, considering the failure of the legislative wing to stop this), and now they need compassion.  Now they need to be shown forgiveness for their error.  

We The People can get through this.  But not by continuing this partisan bickering. Certainly not by assuming that, because I'm from a certain demographic, that you know how I voted. Some of those farmers losing their homes voted Harris or third parties or maybe didn't vote at all.  Just give each other a break, benefit of the doubt, and be kind.  Stand together with your fellow Americans.  Hell, with your fellow earthlings.  

  

State of Unrest

That title could apply to the political situation, in which I see little glimmers of hope.  Some of the state governors are standing up to the federal government's overreach.  Most of them are, of course, members of THE OTHER PARTY, but we gotta start somewhere. 

My dreams have had a recurring theme for a while now, that of moving into or cleaning out a hoarder house.  A sure sign of my dissatisfaction with my current domicile situation.  There are, of course, the issues you get in any apartment building.  The air flow in individual units sucks.  Some of the close neighbors are inconsiderate.  No private yard.  But all told, and compared to previous homes, it is good. 

The hoarder house part intrigues me.  In part, I can blame a certain YouTube channel, which frequently buys such homes or the contents of such homes and takes me along on the exploration.  In one such home, he found artwork worth more than he paid for the entire house!  Both of my parents were hoarders to a degree.  My father because he grew up on a farm and survived the Great Depression and my mother because she had a plethora of untreated mental issues.  I declutter regularly to avoid leaving that kind of mess for my heirs. 

Flipping houses interests me.  The notion of turning a place that's been used and abused back into a viable home really appeals to me.  In a way, it would feel like healing the house.  But in the dreams, I have to empty the house before I can flip it. (It just occurred to me that part of the healing process is removing or rearranging stuff. Especially if the wound has been festering for a while.)  

I get like this from time to time.  Probably soon I will whack off my long hair and rearrange the furniture.  But this time it feels different.  Maybe because I'm no longer playing with Publishers Clearing House.  Funny how much comfort I've always taken from that long shot.  We gotta have dreams or the bastards really will grind us down. 

Anyway... thanks for joining me on this little journey inside my head.  See ya next time. 

Still Scared - And Now Angry

 My situation has changed for the better since my "I'm Scared" post.  My loan is now paid off, which means I'll have a bit of a financial cushion if the government turns on me specifically.  I still hold out hope that the checks and balances will check and balance this mess. They just need to hurry up.  

I really don't want to jump on the Hitler/Nazi bandwagon.  Even now, with what's going on, it seems too much like hyperbole even for me.  But the historical and cultural parallels are there.  If you're an informed reader, you know what I refer to.  If you're willfully ignorant or choosing hatred, nothing I say can change your mind.  I won't dwell on it beyond this:  I have loved ones I fear for.  

I've had to block a sibling on Facebook because every time I opine on the political climate, I get told I'm stupid.  I am a great many things but stupid is not one of them.  However, my family situation has never been the healthiest, and he doesn't know me very well, so I can understand why he assumes I'm lacking brainpower.  

I'm contacting my senators and representatives regularly, expressing my doubts as to the fitness of POTUS.  I'm amazed at how many Americans, even veterans, think Due Process is only for citizens.  

The Polarization is returning rapidly to 2016 levels of Us vs Them.  If you start a conversation or discussion with me by asking how I voted, I will refuse to answer the question.  My opinions and my actions speak more of what I am.  

I am, once again - or maybe still, sick of living in the Divided States of America.  

Arcane by Nonni Lumen

I picked up this book at a Rummage Sale.  It says it's "a true account of ongoing paranormal Phenomena".  I found the business card for a local B&B inside.  Since the book is set in rural Ohio, I wondered if there might be a connection.  As I struggled through, it became pretty obvious that this book is, in fact, about the B&B on the card. Unless there's some other B&B a mile from one town and 8 miles from the one it has the zip code of, near Swings Corner-Point Isabel Road, in rural Ohio. 

I say I struggled and that's no exaggeration.  The author occasionally uses the wrong word for one that's spelled similar.  (Gall/gull being my favorite.   I can't believe she had the seabird to publish this.)  The real obstacle is punctuation.  She randomly sprinkles semi-colons throughout.  At one point she quotes the Bible and her semicolon completely changes the meaning.  This change contradicts the point she's making.  

She references often her NDE (near death experience) but doesn't explain that until chapter ten. The first half of most chapters is list of words and definitions, specific to the author's belief system.  The timeline jumps around like a bunny rabbit on crack.  

****

Here's the story summary: We bought land to build a B&B on.  It is haunted by victims of the KKK and of witches. There is a demon infestation, including but not limited to Lillith herself.  At the end of the book, all is not well and a second book is promised.  Not even good fiction, frankly, and it claims to be true.

Meanwhile, she is moving her family into this place.  For more than a decade she moves family members in and out of the demon-infested B&B.  She is renting rooms to strangers.   She brings in priests to bless the place and there's even confusing mentions of an exorcism.  None of the sacraments have a permanent effect. 

Her son-in-law is possessed by one of the demons and/or his mom cursed the marriage because she's a witch. A nearby shop with a black-flamed candle on the sign is run by a coven which curses the author herself.   Any symbolism not specifically Christian is demonic.  

The area is racist and antipapist and antisemitic.  We're talking caricature levels of yeehaw rednecks. No one she asks for information on her property tell her anything, but one told her there was a mill there once.  She never contacts county offices for access to public records on the land.  Yet she somehow learns that this mill was operated by the KKK as a front for lynching people.  Whites on one tree and Blacks on another.

Swings Corner-Point Isabel road is not named for the two communities it once connected, but for a hanging tree and one of the B&B ghosts.  The word picnic is not derived from eighteenth century France, but from the lynching term "pick a nig".  

**** 

The writer in me is repelled.  This book is badly written by any definition.  

The Bethel Girl in me is enraged at her character assassination of the population. 

Oh, and the second book has not appeared.

Money for Babies

One of the reasons I was bullied in junior high?  We were Welfare People.  Why else would anyone have seven kids in the space of a decade?  The more babies you have, the more money Welfare gives you. The truth of the matter? My father was Catholic.  Birth Control was against his religion.  There were other Catholic families around, with a house full, and I honestly can't say if they got this treatment as well or if I was just an easy target. 

As an adult, I worked in stores and restaurants.  My coworkers were prone to making the same assumption about any woman with many children, especially if she was anything less than a fashionista.  Even the coworkers who got government help to supplement their meager income, or the ones who had a house full of kids themselves.  

I never had children, but was often seen with minions in tow.  I once had to stop my grandmother from "boxing his ears" when a man in the grocery store said something snide to us.  He saw an old lady, a young woman, a teenager, a preteen, and two smaller children shopping.  He jumped to the Welfare Mom assumption.  

I'd be a liar if I claimed I never used government assistance.  Hell, the name of this blog comes from the fact that I'm on SSDI and Food Stamps.  I'd also be a liar if I claimed I've never known a woman who gave birth for more benefits, or who simply accepted that if she couldn't support her surprise baby, she could get Welfare.  

I am in no way shape or form standing in judgement of Welfare Moms.  What I am saying is that for my entire life THEY taught me that "having babies for government money" is a vile thing to do.  But now there's talk of stimulating the declining American birth rate by... wait for it...  paying people to reproduce.  With government money.  

The dichotomy blows my mind, especially since it's coming from the same people who refer to "the parasite class".  What is the difference?  Anyone who thinks it's okay to cut every birthing mother in America a check needs to reconsider how they feel about Welfare Mom.