tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76898049385508279182024-03-18T18:48:06.953-05:00Beauty Without Within"What we wish beauty to be is not necessarily the same as what beauty is." (Arthur Marwich, Beauty in History, 1988)
Our current society's beliefs about beauty don't just define how we look, but also powerfully influence what we think about ourselves. God's speical lady is beautiful without and within.Elizabeth "Libby" Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17145264016754286426noreply@blogger.comBlogger979125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689804938550827918.post-21262772932591174142024-03-13T05:30:00.034-05:002024-03-13T08:58:58.319-05:00Green Pi Hodgepodge<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"><i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgEKaOf6f1hlg8uMVjetaGdrtCWRoHFbWHY4RLuVFoWfqOwOf29294wdKOKcWl9aSwZATb7j_q8-DFa7nb9wbho3jzZT55QyiJHoSrdqhAZJv4ydL2tIyd5NzVTg8QnX7NaBulg2iFHiMzNJRf7COahs1I1lZFpmAvF-S3ZRRJqzoorZtjcWcxga5AKVHk" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgEKaOf6f1hlg8uMVjetaGdrtCWRoHFbWHY4RLuVFoWfqOwOf29294wdKOKcWl9aSwZATb7j_q8-DFa7nb9wbho3jzZT55QyiJHoSrdqhAZJv4ydL2tIyd5NzVTg8QnX7NaBulg2iFHiMzNJRf7COahs1I1lZFpmAvF-S3ZRRJqzoorZtjcWcxga5AKVHk" width="240" /></a></div><br /></i></span><b><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"><i>Click here for a song to help celebrate National Pi Day - </i></span><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OnFlx2Lnr9Q">"That's Amore"</a></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="font-family: Quicksand;">Thank you, <a href="http://www.fromthissideofthepond.com/">Joyce</a> for giving us such a variety of questions to consider each week.</span></i></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"><br /></span></i></b></div><div class="from-this-side-of-the-pond-button" style="margin: 0px auto; width: 273px;"> <a href="http://www.fromthissideofthepond.com/" rel="nofollow"> <img alt="From this Side of the Pond" height="273" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SNGI3xwxjTg/WVmWedFfZaI/AAAAAAAAPAA/lsgY_VeWUnU4Y7mezjBvT7KgxwvT_GslgCLcBGAs/s1600/hodgepodge-button.png" width="273" /> </a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Quicksand;"><b>1. Thursday is National Pi Day...are you good at math? What was the last thing you had to calculate? did you use your head or technology? Last slice of pie you ate?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Quicksand;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Quicksand;"><b><i>No, math was never my strong suit inspite of all my dad's efforts to turn that around.</i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Quicksand;"><b><i>The last things I calculated were totals for my tax forms.</i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Quicksand;"><b><i>I definitely used technology!</i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Quicksand;"><b><i>The last slice of pie I ate was the last slice of peach pie in the pan provided by a sweet friend.</i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Quicksand;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Quicksand;"><b>2. What makes a house a home?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Quicksand;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Quicksand;"><b><i>The people who live there!</i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Quicksand;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Quicksand;"><b>3. Your current favorite green thing?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Quicksand;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #444444; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh49cvOl7FSmu-XQ9KDg7bRRbQSvZdsbvQ2yz3B7K-849AS2Kp9epYPFfRxG4epFnx6581pnAdbrrujA3Mad9vXQoZThQ82fW-TyWCfxoGPpkWcxka-fn3tqiAUdPfEAnQLxdrO7V7-ZUBZjR219dXyZpStmXnZRQ2HqwobZNIdn9fmHkif8MymtbAZaOA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="445" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh49cvOl7FSmu-XQ9KDg7bRRbQSvZdsbvQ2yz3B7K-849AS2Kp9epYPFfRxG4epFnx6581pnAdbrrujA3Mad9vXQoZThQ82fW-TyWCfxoGPpkWcxka-fn3tqiAUdPfEAnQLxdrO7V7-ZUBZjR219dXyZpStmXnZRQ2HqwobZNIdn9fmHkif8MymtbAZaOA=w278-h400" width="278" /></a></div><br /><span style="color: #38761d;"><i>Green is not one of my favorite colors but I do love my green plants. I brought this bamboo into my bedroom so I can keep it watered and enjoy it from my bed. Dick gave this to me years ago and it continues to thrive.</i></span></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Quicksand;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Quicksand;"><b>4. How do you define achievement? How does your personal definition look similar to, or different than, society's definition? What's something you think is worth achieving in life?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Quicksand;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Quicksand;"><span style="background-color: white; text-align: left;"><b><i>Definition: a thing done successfully, typically by effort, courage, or skill</i></b></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Quicksand;"><span style="background-color: white; text-align: left;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Quicksand;"><span style="background-color: white; text-align: left;"><b><i>My personal definition isn't too different from the one above. I have never achieved something without putting forth an effort to do so. Those achievements also came with a lot of perseverance and determination as well as failure. That being said, nothing I have ever achieved was done so by my own power. I believe that I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength, according to His purpose, because I am among His called.</i></b></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Quicksand;"><span style="background-color: white; text-align: left;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Quicksand;"><span style="background-color: white; text-align: left;"><b><i>The thing I most wish to achieve is learning to love God above all else, and my neighbor as myself. </i></b></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Quicksand;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Quicksand;"><b>5. What song is a good soundtrack for your life right now?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Quicksand;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Quicksand;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/1rmAi9XmlIo" width="320" youtube-src-id="1rmAi9XmlIo"></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Quicksand;"><b>6. Insert your own random thought here.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Quicksand;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiujaxFpwyRVfKGkmlTDh9XRD_zHLXYW_I22SRDN59vX9rRr6wBRUT2suPHkO1Zz9jO6CgPQkuRg50zAoQKViGLRVys3yszbUq0OAuIAy-3T_W3dWjdGgenRZKgp6aHagAkeKQVJ6cbveEY-tuR0z3ngU_UbOtFr4lEnG6qhbgWuw7lHNNDLLVlbMZpDFg/s1600/Cassidy%20Collage.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiujaxFpwyRVfKGkmlTDh9XRD_zHLXYW_I22SRDN59vX9rRr6wBRUT2suPHkO1Zz9jO6CgPQkuRg50zAoQKViGLRVys3yszbUq0OAuIAy-3T_W3dWjdGgenRZKgp6aHagAkeKQVJ6cbveEY-tuR0z3ngU_UbOtFr4lEnG6qhbgWuw7lHNNDLLVlbMZpDFg/w640-h480/Cassidy%20Collage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Quicksand;"><b><i>Our granddaughter #2, Cassidy, spends most of her time traveling abroad. Recently, she posted these pictures from Milan, Italy. She could have stepped off the fashion runway.</i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Quicksand;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Quicksand;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjf47ARKcqT2Nqk5jWOfYUV1xwpWOSDqN9OkT77l8vzxx-fDTQ-yZcOvVyEm8ASEMIBuGo-uZFDRRkKV8wRQxHhbwT0FVStbGAjL1rQIAewZNZiYqXfheTpDd3L6CqHm34TKn5SIBy612iYVPlod7eEcxJCm_fKykkh9qTvvmvxNysfR06344UTa2Qysfc" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="481" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjf47ARKcqT2Nqk5jWOfYUV1xwpWOSDqN9OkT77l8vzxx-fDTQ-yZcOvVyEm8ASEMIBuGo-uZFDRRkKV8wRQxHhbwT0FVStbGAjL1rQIAewZNZiYqXfheTpDd3L6CqHm34TKn5SIBy612iYVPlod7eEcxJCm_fKykkh9qTvvmvxNysfR06344UTa2Qysfc=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><i>Granddaughter #6, Ava Grace, spent last week on a mini-mester mission trip in the Amazon. Above, they are swimming with a pink dolphin. She is on the left and I'll let her facial expression tell you what she thought about it.</i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Quicksand;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Quicksand;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNqb9WvKn1S8oR2oX3lZGTpoLzJyLvc_JZnjMK6o91d54jxo8CDFLD0hcKlPmLGTR6FWKbujW0WFW_9CueJoZRLeSPZ9PmIY0Glea0TkMQivVVE8Mi77PiUiqdcXVIHYUyOsCN7K7NqC8-a4jw7NpF9UyFJpa6BRi454g17PKuWjF8kTiHJrioCxiACzA/s1600/Chan%20Collage.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNqb9WvKn1S8oR2oX3lZGTpoLzJyLvc_JZnjMK6o91d54jxo8CDFLD0hcKlPmLGTR6FWKbujW0WFW_9CueJoZRLeSPZ9PmIY0Glea0TkMQivVVE8Mi77PiUiqdcXVIHYUyOsCN7K7NqC8-a4jw7NpF9UyFJpa6BRi454g17PKuWjF8kTiHJrioCxiACzA/w640-h480/Chan%20Collage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> <i>Their older sister, granddaughter #1, Chandler has been doing some modeling of her own. Check out <a href="https://www.instagram.com/stylekalon/">@stylekalon</a> on Instagram to see other fashions worn by this beautiful mom.</i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Quicksand;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Quicksand;"><b><i>And that's just three of my amazing granddaughters.<br /></i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="85" data-original-width="140" height="86" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8qooMDXiFYI/XrtcM-iznKI/AAAAAAABMG8/T-hXkoZ_iCA3WFjt6UFV7jIc93iY-qQyQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/libby%2Bsig%2B140.png" width="140" /></a></div>Elizabeth "Libby" Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17145264016754286426noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689804938550827918.post-50038590821844536542024-03-11T15:11:00.003-05:002024-03-11T15:16:11.673-05:00Oh the Trials - Woe is Me!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Have you ever noticed that the thing(s) you can no longer do, are the very things you need to be able to do?</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I have also noticed that I am a very clumsy person. Who knew!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">A few years ago when I had to have surgery on my right hand and underwent PT for three months to regain the use of the hand, I started dropping things. All kinds of things. My toothbrush, a dish towel, a clothing item, etc. I forgave myself liberally for these little mishaps because I was able to lean over and retrieve whatever had fallen. All was forgiven and I moved on.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Now that I have had my left hip replaced, I am denied the ability to bend over or lean too far, at least for another two weeks. All of a sudden I am reminded that I really am a cluts. On top of recuperating and having to have help for the simplest things such as putting on socks, to again be reminded that I really am a clumsy person might make one feel a bit sorry for oneself. Just say'n.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">For example, I dropped a dryer sheet and it had to lie there on the floor until Dick either slipped on it or noticed it. I dropped crumbs from a brownie and there they lay, hoping Dick would notice them before they got ground into the tile.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Several times, I have dropped a vitamin or pill just as I thought I had it in my mouth. Normally, I would have picked that bugger up off the floor and reinserted it where it belonged. But not now. This morning I dropped a Tylenol on the bathroom floor. As I was using the bathroom I saw our visiting grand dog come looking for me and instead found the pill on the floor. Since she is deaf, I clapped my hands real loud to stop her from tasting it. It scared her to death because she thought it was a clap of thunder which is the only thing she can hear. She thankfully ignored the pill, but kept looking for the lightening and shivered for an hour.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Who drops a pill out of their mouth? Anyway, that seems to be the new challenge this week - make sure the pill(s) are properly inserted in mouth before removing the fingers from said pill.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">On top of all that, I dropped my grabber. That's right, I knocked over the grabber I keep by my bed in order to help retrieve items that I have dropped and are out of reach. NOTE: It doesn't work with pills or crumbs. Now I find I need a backup grabber to pick up my grabber.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Oh the trials of post-surgery!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">All this aside, I continue to make amazing progress and remain pain free. I am so grateful for my sweet hubby who doesn't seem to mind being my human grabber and sock putter-oner.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="85" data-original-width="140" height="86" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8qooMDXiFYI/XrtcM-iznKI/AAAAAAABMG8/T-hXkoZ_iCA3WFjt6UFV7jIc93iY-qQyQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/libby%2Bsig%2B140.png" width="140" /></a></div>Elizabeth "Libby" Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17145264016754286426noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689804938550827918.post-18729197637056448842024-03-06T05:30:00.018-06:002024-03-06T05:30:00.148-06:00A Purrrfic Wednesday Hodgepodge<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgb9eKgXBMXXRUPwyT8LXg0RxxM22iEr8MTbtGOZytsY_apC3r5yWrhYGw1GZbtDkbxAUlJopvML7sT_XN-DIy4RSnQ0HWezsmbzyUKDajQm4e7_hyMSyrK_ubM3MHKlj0pP7J4D_OMhCjMqr6GPTVr1V_qHX2PJI5Ldz80oej9HqZyfYrKwNKtTVmrM0c" style="font-family: verdana; font-style: italic; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="554" data-original-width="716" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgb9eKgXBMXXRUPwyT8LXg0RxxM22iEr8MTbtGOZytsY_apC3r5yWrhYGw1GZbtDkbxAUlJopvML7sT_XN-DIy4RSnQ0HWezsmbzyUKDajQm4e7_hyMSyrK_ubM3MHKlj0pP7J4D_OMhCjMqr6GPTVr1V_qHX2PJI5Ldz80oej9HqZyfYrKwNKtTVmrM0c" width="310" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>Welcome to another <a href="http://www.fromthissideofthepond.com/">Wednesday Hodgepodge</a> with Joyce asking the questions.</i><i><br /><br /></i></span></div><div class="from-this-side-of-the-pond-button" style="margin: 0px auto; text-align: center; width: 273px;"> <a href="http://www.fromthissideofthepond.com/" rel="nofollow"> <img alt="From this Side of the Pond" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SNGI3xwxjTg/WVmWedFfZaI/AAAAAAAAPAA/lsgY_VeWUnU4Y7mezjBvT7KgxwvT_GslgCLcBGAs/w200-h200/hodgepodge-button.png" width="200" /> </a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: verdana;"><b>1. Has March come in like a lion where you live? If not a lion then what animal would you use to describe the weather in your area this first week of March? Does the weather affect your emotions? When did you last feel 'under the weather'?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #666666; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiOuOFyY6J2H4M-GgsQSGNZ6xks_LTje0NkBwAm4Bbz7QMWJwuZvRyjnoizXXHApr-AiiGZt-MkS4KxbFf4dxLutjzG8oHTGKo6OXCpJFjDj1HdXlMZsnzEfgtxjF0Cyri-YrelmDyhCyeLYBf0T-cyWYSVaZXLbNGc6kEJXWYDbxr2BgUd6HQY2lD3QhA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="236" data-original-width="236" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiOuOFyY6J2H4M-GgsQSGNZ6xks_LTje0NkBwAm4Bbz7QMWJwuZvRyjnoizXXHApr-AiiGZt-MkS4KxbFf4dxLutjzG8oHTGKo6OXCpJFjDj1HdXlMZsnzEfgtxjF0Cyri-YrelmDyhCyeLYBf0T-cyWYSVaZXLbNGc6kEJXWYDbxr2BgUd6HQY2lD3QhA=w400-h400" width="400" /></a></div><br /><i>March certainly did <b>not</b> come in like a lion in Plano, TX. Instead it was more like a frisky kitten who loves to chase anything that moves when not lying out in the sunshine. We have had plenty of sun and wind. The only weather that affects my emotions is a storm. Bad weather seems to feed my soul and I feel very content. I don't remember when I last felt 'under the weather'. Even two weeks post surgery, I have not felt bad at all.</i></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: verdana;"><b>2. Do you know what your name means? Does the meaning of your name fit with your personality? Do you like your name? If you have children did you consider the meaning of their names before choosing them?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>Elizabeth: My God is abundance</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>Claire: Clear, bright or light-colored</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>Yes, I think both my given names fit my personality. My God is all I ever need. As for the meaning of Claire, it is true I am probably more clear and bright some days more than others, but always light-colored.</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>Yes, we considered the meaning of our children's names.</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>John: </i></span><span style="background-color: white; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>"Yahweh has been gracious"</i></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>Christina: </i></span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><span style="background-color: white; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; text-align: left;">"Follower of Christ".</span><span style="background-color: white; text-align: left;"> </span></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: verdana;"><b>3. It's National Sauce Month...what's your favorite sauce? Last thing you ate that used a sauce?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>I found the most delicious tomato basil sauce at Home Goods a while back that we have used as a soup more than a sauce. I bought all they had and wish there had been more. I don't remember the last time I used just a sauce.</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: verdana;"><b>4. Something you've seen, tasted, done lately that you'd describe as 'awesome sauce'?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>I discovered Cauliflower Gnocchi a while back that I used in making a Chicken Gnocchi Soup. It has quickly become a favorite dish for us and for sharing.</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: verdana;"><b>5. What kinds of things do you love to collect?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>I no longer collect anything. Space is too limited for collecting. In the past I collected white pottery pitchers and still have some of my favorites. I also, for a period of time collected vintage and antique gravy boats. When we moved three years ago, I gave all of my collection to a friend.</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: verdana;"><b>6. Insert your own random thought here.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg_Lz_JwGo7OHY_7y8LxMDSGwbipslukEviSWxddvU70Je_jV4bNH3GctgRvgZPV2TQO5EHZCZLAYrZUyC4PdahMangI-higYycKMrIGnEHefCC-SSNjS5QFXGv_JfViQRihrG2xkDk5AqZTEl_U5D_n__w65EGCvufZZ26diRVcTcBDwxCAKt0-1WSvTw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="752" data-original-width="564" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg_Lz_JwGo7OHY_7y8LxMDSGwbipslukEviSWxddvU70Je_jV4bNH3GctgRvgZPV2TQO5EHZCZLAYrZUyC4PdahMangI-higYycKMrIGnEHefCC-SSNjS5QFXGv_JfViQRihrG2xkDk5AqZTEl_U5D_n__w65EGCvufZZ26diRVcTcBDwxCAKt0-1WSvTw=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="85" data-original-width="140" height="86" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8qooMDXiFYI/XrtcM-iznKI/AAAAAAABMG8/T-hXkoZ_iCA3WFjt6UFV7jIc93iY-qQyQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/libby%2Bsig%2B140.png" width="140" /></a></div>Elizabeth "Libby" Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17145264016754286426noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689804938550827918.post-3660772578020532272024-03-02T06:30:00.002-06:002024-03-05T14:52:20.458-06:00Saturday 9 With Eydie<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">It has been forever since I participated in the Saturday 9 meme and since this weeks song harks back to my teen years, I thought it would be a fun Saturday to join in.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I do not have any special memories associated with this song although I did think Eydie Gorme and Steve Lawrence made the sweetest couple.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjtvrAgpCvMUywU_do1qAoJPmAfaAuY0RbdWst8LsEIPAOdHw8A47JjsDkE-HHNf6FgTC_ju93pxxTVLLiPOFPBSR4gcGCvw7fSg9TsdcKfXyt7aPUe1NGI5phFHxKAKk-dWU200y2yhy9EfIhrOaR3GFb_ucRhAWxvhbvX2twEn6hX2A1ekePWj71Y-vo" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="259" data-original-width="240" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjtvrAgpCvMUywU_do1qAoJPmAfaAuY0RbdWst8LsEIPAOdHw8A47JjsDkE-HHNf6FgTC_ju93pxxTVLLiPOFPBSR4gcGCvw7fSg9TsdcKfXyt7aPUe1NGI5phFHxKAKk-dWU200y2yhy9EfIhrOaR3GFb_ucRhAWxvhbvX2twEn6hX2A1ekePWj71Y-vo=w370-h400" width="370" /></a></div><br /><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b style="color: #323232; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15.456px; text-align: start;"><span face=""calibri light" , sans-serif" style="font-size: 18pt;">Saturday 9:</span></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b style="color: #323232; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15.456px; text-align: start;"><span face=""calibri light" , sans-serif" style="font-size: 18pt;">Blame It on the Bossa Nova (1963)</span></b><br style="color: #323232; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15.456px; text-align: start;" /><br style="color: #323232; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15.456px; text-align: start;" /><span face=""calibri light" , sans-serif" style="color: #323232; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 18pt; text-align: start;">Unfamiliar with this week's tune? Hear it <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7XpWOBEZLEs" style="color: #cb0098; text-decoration-line: none;">here</a>.</span></span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b style="color: #323232; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15.456px; text-align: start;"><span face=""calibri light" , sans-serif" style="font-size: 18pt;"><br /></span></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgs--whM0eUyNeYC0dUOaLDicuJceJPeve8LcH7XkzgsI017S54Dwc9iZavA_cYS_erBlaSmtfIkGxev_wMH7-VHt4zaWz1CIEOpxmEX1xXvq8GybN1jiZlT9QqoxWUIADNiKj2taTYyL-soJQPSrBSZ6JgxjglUg3WV0BinQpq_Nu8CScubtiOvEIVceU" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1192" data-original-width="1200" height="397" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgs--whM0eUyNeYC0dUOaLDicuJceJPeve8LcH7XkzgsI017S54Dwc9iZavA_cYS_erBlaSmtfIkGxev_wMH7-VHt4zaWz1CIEOpxmEX1xXvq8GybN1jiZlT9QqoxWUIADNiKj2taTYyL-soJQPSrBSZ6JgxjglUg3WV0BinQpq_Nu8CScubtiOvEIVceU=w400-h397" width="400" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span face=""calibri light" , sans-serif" style="color: #323232; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 18pt; text-align: start;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span face=""calibri light" , sans-serif" style="color: #323232; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 18pt; text-align: start;">1) This week's song tells the story of a girl who found love at a dance. Share a happy memory from a party, prom or dance you attended.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span face=""calibri light" , sans-serif" style="color: #323232; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 18pt; text-align: start;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span face=""calibri light" , sans-serif" style="color: #323232; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 18pt; text-align: start;"><i>As a sweet little Baptist girl and a preacher's daughter, I did not dance, nor did we have proms back in the early 60's; therefore I do not a specific dance memory to share. This did not keep me from enjoying American Bandstand and other teen bopper dance programs on TV.</i><br /></span></span><p style="color: #323232; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15.456px; text-align: start;"></p><p style="color: #323232; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15.456px; text-align: start;"></p><p style="color: #323232; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15.456px; text-align: start;"><span face=""calibri light" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 18pt;">2) This record was a big hit for Eydie Gorme, which surprised her. When she first heard the song, she disliked it and had to be convinced to her record it. Tell us about a pleasant surprise you had recently.</span></p><p style="color: #323232; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15.456px; text-align: center;"><span face=""calibri light" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 18pt;"><i>A friend sent me a huge gorgeous bouquet of roses as a get-well-soon gift. An hour later I received another one exactly like the first. Come to find out, the first was supposed to be delivered the day before, and when it wasn't they delivered a second one. Needless to say we loved having twice the beauty and the house smelled divine.</i></span></p><p style="color: #323232; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15.456px; text-align: start;"><span face=""calibri light" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 18pt;">3) "Blame It on the Bossa Nova" is about love at first sight on the dance floor. Eydie's husband Steve Lawrence maintained he fell in love with her the first time he heard her sing. Have you ever felt a sudden, powerful attraction to someone? If yes, did you act on it?</span></p><p style="color: #323232; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 24px;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzdyQbw7Wfv0q5i5QSqEkty59MfVwfE2591p6S0j-dueku81abw_nYpdTmWpQ2UYA_whzp4MJ8xcIUDJN939CTpZqafinbCeV9O7mqTZgAuDJe-Rv0PL-evaeU5ZCAwHtKt6pg-Ecz9NXzrJukp1GGry2EYsL8fIKWq7mBYZ0sz5nvhmiDCe8WDjbNDfk/s206/13923691_10209907760033618_3957806672137689200_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="206" data-original-width="206" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzdyQbw7Wfv0q5i5QSqEkty59MfVwfE2591p6S0j-dueku81abw_nYpdTmWpQ2UYA_whzp4MJ8xcIUDJN939CTpZqafinbCeV9O7mqTZgAuDJe-Rv0PL-evaeU5ZCAwHtKt6pg-Ecz9NXzrJukp1GGry2EYsL8fIKWq7mBYZ0sz5nvhmiDCe8WDjbNDfk/w400-h400/13923691_10209907760033618_3957806672137689200_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p style="color: #323232; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 24px;"><i>Yes, in fact, my husband and I met on a blind date and had an immediate attraction to each other. We met on Feb 6, 1965 and were married on Sept. 4 of that same year. We acted on it pretty quickly.</i></span></p><p style="color: #323232; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15.456px; text-align: start;"><span face=""calibri light" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 18pt;">4) While this was a solo success for Eydie, she was also known for recording and performing with Steve Lawrence. He was just 22 and she was 29 when they married. Eydie admitted she was self-conscious about the difference in their ages. Do you think age matters in a romantic relationship?<br /></span></p><p style="color: #323232; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15.456px; text-align: center;"><span face=""calibri light" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 18pt;"><i>There is no blanket answer for this question. I have known couples who were several years apart in age whose marriage lasted until death parted them. One couple I know, the woman is considerably older than her husband and they are a perfect match. For a couple months each year my husband is five years older than me and I think its great.</i></span></p><p style="color: #323232; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15.456px; text-align: start;"><span face=""calibri light" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 18pt;">5) Eydie was fluent in Spanish, which enabled her to pay for her classes at City College by working as an interpreter. Tell us about one of your early jobs.<br /></span></p><p style="color: #323232; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15.456px; text-align: center;"><span face=""calibri light" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 18pt;"><i>My first job was gift wrapping during the Christmas holidays at a large department store. I actually did this for three Christmas seasons and enjoyed it.</i></span></p><p style="text-align: start;"><span face=""calibri light" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #323232; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 18pt;">6) In 1963, when this song was popular, The Rambler was </span><i style="color: #323232; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 18pt;">Motor Trend's</i><span style="color: #323232; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 18pt;"> car of the year. It was a 9-passenger station wagon, perfect for families. What do you remember about your childhood family car?</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #323232; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 18pt; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgowrAJLm93k_xljhcGdeEzA6BIi-amj3nqKcLjVHI2nEFBzv-fzUL_Xd7ia-XpR6JRk2zNMw9hD8T4ljRxG7nd1uznpXbScZJxKNQ6EI3XZlXsGKrLBnOh_hoGLzc2HQNMGkqIMDm7zYc9aAcaoZrroohSAgIuJaBk6hSlfxKBSoeAg6aQ_c8wXn8X0Tc" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="372" data-original-width="639" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgowrAJLm93k_xljhcGdeEzA6BIi-amj3nqKcLjVHI2nEFBzv-fzUL_Xd7ia-XpR6JRk2zNMw9hD8T4ljRxG7nd1uznpXbScZJxKNQ6EI3XZlXsGKrLBnOh_hoGLzc2HQNMGkqIMDm7zYc9aAcaoZrroohSAgIuJaBk6hSlfxKBSoeAg6aQ_c8wXn8X0Tc=w400-h233" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #323232; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 24px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #323232; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 24px;"><i>We had a Studebaker that my sister and I loved to sit in and take many a pretend trip. What adventures that car had.</i></span></div><p></p><p style="color: #323232; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15.456px; text-align: start;"></p><p style="color: #323232; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15.456px; text-align: start;"><span face=""calibri light" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 18pt;">7) Also in 1963, President Kennedy made a state trip to Ireland. Have you visited the land of your ancestors?<br /></span></p><p style="color: #323232; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 24px;"><i>Most of my ancestors hark from England and Scotland, but no I have not visited these countries.</i></span></p><p style="color: #323232; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15.456px; text-align: start;"></p><p style="color: #323232; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15.456px; text-align: start;"><span face=""calibri light" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 18pt;">8) The pilot for <i>Gilligan's Island</i> was filmed in 1963. Were you a fan of the show?<br /></span></p><p style="color: #323232; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15.456px; text-align: center;"><span face=""calibri light" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 18pt;"><i>Oh yes, I suppose most households watched that show during its run. I eventually got tired of it but in 1963, it would have been a must see each week.</i></span></p><p style="color: #323232; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15.456px; text-align: start;"></p><span face=""calibri light" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #323232; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 18pt; text-align: start;"></span><p style="color: #323232; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15.456px; text-align: start;"><span face=""calibri light" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 18pt;">9) Random question: Crunchy, smooth or organic peanut butter?</span></p><p style="color: #323232; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 15.456px; text-align: center;"><span face=""calibri light" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 18pt;"><i>It depends on how I'm using it. For a PBJ sandwich, I prefer smooth. For a favorite PB snack, I prefer crunchy and being organic is not important to me.</i></span></p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/B9qu_o0laLs" width="320" youtube-src-id="B9qu_o0laLs"></iframe></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="85" data-original-width="140" height="86" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjThkQ3geDj5iiveEGhDZ3n47usipcfUCv-dmw2DzQc57m6OOVwo2yxw2eHTWMRu1wMAb71C3-G78BpKffGICXAqUIfhCp-zSPkX0yo6loKam-a6TFHFYcnXl54sMxVnlliUqhpQkgt49E/s1600/libby+sig+140.png" width="140" /></a></div>Elizabeth "Libby" Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17145264016754286426noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689804938550827918.post-2684389521370799872024-02-28T05:30:00.000-06:002024-02-28T05:30:00.129-06:00End of February Wrap Up<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Two blog posts in two days is a new record for me, but it is so good to have nothing else to do but think about doing something a bit creative for a change. If you are interested in seeing how I do little vignettes in my house, <a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2024/02/creating-interesting-vignettes-in-your.html">click here</a>. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiKuCqObZZ6PuPk5q5RUb34I3O6kxXIGfTpeWooDwm8APXOOND1Q4hT0892OUXYAr_9z1ysz9qr49KgpGtZn4XSBKcFFg48CpimRJODk9_xm0KKoEErBMMdYuKsaLU-NTZW8_TeUeJZPkIpQ-FKl73piaE3t1y9ualT12gfq5dUMkDppk8DCsZggIM7op8" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1725" data-original-width="1440" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiKuCqObZZ6PuPk5q5RUb34I3O6kxXIGfTpeWooDwm8APXOOND1Q4hT0892OUXYAr_9z1ysz9qr49KgpGtZn4XSBKcFFg48CpimRJODk9_xm0KKoEErBMMdYuKsaLU-NTZW8_TeUeJZPkIpQ-FKl73piaE3t1y9ualT12gfq5dUMkDppk8DCsZggIM7op8=w333-h400" width="333" /></a></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">A BIG HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO OUR BIG BOY, JACKSON!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Love you to the moon and back!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div> <div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.fromthissideofthepond.com/" rel="nofollow"><img alt="From this Side of the Pond" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrOYbCAZFE_Ni_c-CzgU2llCgpcvIqw6442jPkjXFgFPwaGLPDxNN1SBS71zSbHF7eYtepEETWvXG4rvLwvOntdHS2GcAXlR6JDtaxkmX-Tro9wjh9TWBTlcgZIBG6XciiPFRkjXIr8w/s1600/hodgepodge-button.png" width="273" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>1. February is coming to a close. Give us a two-word phrase that tell us something about how yours went.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">February came in with a lot of pain and closed with the elimination of said pain. Thank you God for sending your angels of healing.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>2. If you had to describe how you're feeling right now as an amusement park ride, what ride are you on? Explain.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhfOW2vnqqfWsS-en-zuihkkYqXj2FDFtdnUfwamEoC-eyKryjOuYWMgjQgFR0B2dAn48qA8-DEgbP50g3Da_8vyCQzMXVc3A6QvE0zivXmCwmaWvIcpK6tlbPlrS189ePgofeD44Yf-OhH1nvy5TPFX-wSyXvmjm6HaBT1MlA4hXhA6H08V5XkQh9Hx_Q" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1504" data-original-width="2000" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhfOW2vnqqfWsS-en-zuihkkYqXj2FDFtdnUfwamEoC-eyKryjOuYWMgjQgFR0B2dAn48qA8-DEgbP50g3Da_8vyCQzMXVc3A6QvE0zivXmCwmaWvIcpK6tlbPlrS189ePgofeD44Yf-OhH1nvy5TPFX-wSyXvmjm6HaBT1MlA4hXhA6H08V5XkQh9Hx_Q=w400-h301" width="400" /></a></div><br />The carousel seems to fit what's going on with me right now. It was one week ago as I'm writing this that I had my left hip replaced. My surgeon has a regime to accomplish maximum healing but it isn't overnight.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">My daily schedule is going round and round and getting up and down doing 5 - 10 minutes of walking every hour; icing the incision; increasing the reps of exercises every day and then simply resting in bed. So round and round and up and down about describes my month of March.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>3. What's something on your desk or a nearby wall that cheers you up when you see it or walk past?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhbINYLGoZE-snNDQyTfcqqDrOlW8X7G4sJ9zU8zZbnHniBQ1St5U2IzzU-V-qf81SL00jzEyTDHhetpRzwMZ7jsOe3DOqYQM9_tskLQAXtNUkJyyUGShDpgcVJSzAoljHYLwdyh6Hiyf2k7cNaOcUFRitXZOrxh3kgxBpoRCt1ctNXJCx5nrWDlb6hUi8" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhbINYLGoZE-snNDQyTfcqqDrOlW8X7G4sJ9zU8zZbnHniBQ1St5U2IzzU-V-qf81SL00jzEyTDHhetpRzwMZ7jsOe3DOqYQM9_tskLQAXtNUkJyyUGShDpgcVJSzAoljHYLwdyh6Hiyf2k7cNaOcUFRitXZOrxh3kgxBpoRCt1ctNXJCx5nrWDlb6hUi8=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></div><br />Since my lap is my desk right now, my view is this large beautiful piece of furniture that holds a TV I rarely watch, a glass vase I enjoy seeing and all the printed copies of my yearly blog posts. On top are two favorite pieces that were purchased in Greece many years ago. There also is a tiny picture from my dad's last driver's license. Normally, those doors would be closed, but I enjoy the view.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>4. Are you a salad eater? How many salads do you typically eat in a week? Your favorite kind of salad?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Yes, we are salad eaters and typically eat one a few times a week. My go-to salad is a Cobb with black beans, corn, chicken and all the fixins'.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>5. Without telling us the category give us your top five ---</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><ol style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><span>Sitting in my sunroom on a bright sunshiny morning</span></b></span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><span>Walking outside on a brisk cool morning</span></b></span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>Doing Facetime with a great grandson</b></span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>A good nights sleep</b></span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>Waking up alongside my beloved</b></span></li></ol></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>6. Insert your own random thought here.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I know you are more than ready to get caught up on our great grands since it's been a while since an update.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjUgHDsfy20xM5DoSdt1DJJF29gutNhFLBhndXJ_d0JBDkiHLfe6Eix7B-zxIokpcMiaIeyoDFrHsGv6lvbherEStXrE0i5DEobhsiHXvCXjfFiykA5KepfH25-TOamm4NhwKDNKsVVP9WjEqlUT0Bgb0iRrn8-gV7AKuPauqt-1pd5LE8KSOk-nswttcM" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="481" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjUgHDsfy20xM5DoSdt1DJJF29gutNhFLBhndXJ_d0JBDkiHLfe6Eix7B-zxIokpcMiaIeyoDFrHsGv6lvbherEStXrE0i5DEobhsiHXvCXjfFiykA5KepfH25-TOamm4NhwKDNKsVVP9WjEqlUT0Bgb0iRrn8-gV7AKuPauqt-1pd5LE8KSOk-nswttcM=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div>Landon, who will be 2 in April entertained me on the foot of my bed the other day with his "happy face" and sweet antics. He is such a little ham and so full of life.<br /><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg9UMQ1GlHToaUY1UUjbB3PEd_USF4KMkb4v4-8CHDJ3NdxwiaMBKgUeEjMRGrGE8zgAFrVa_Lp6Ts0NqqqnixUeBnMsCwVhmpiOgb6PDlnF-TdESzpGRogIic929pxiwQ9q97FKXqbLzf4TEIwb5vKn-hzR28sbNDISPOKhRwE5ecEinU6D-AtGDxXWZs" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="360" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg9UMQ1GlHToaUY1UUjbB3PEd_USF4KMkb4v4-8CHDJ3NdxwiaMBKgUeEjMRGrGE8zgAFrVa_Lp6Ts0NqqqnixUeBnMsCwVhmpiOgb6PDlnF-TdESzpGRogIic929pxiwQ9q97FKXqbLzf4TEIwb5vKn-hzR28sbNDISPOKhRwE5ecEinU6D-AtGDxXWZs=w225-h400" width="225" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Jax is so fascinated by all the new house building going on in his neighborhood and loves to watch for the dump trucks and excavators. We love our FT visits with this Indiana baby boy who will be 2 in July.</span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj1lkYHciK2AGyDWoQ9CD0vDAMVbNxV2w0_9za--1ksD5l0CciBqDNuyZeuAxLZdqwrBnWB3y5wRpndA6G8EKI0LeEuvbQ9uzD-nHz9FlSF1gdtyeyXzO9hxnKdQfTjbu29wsb2MSHYM22soSjzvs2FSNdwUzHgLgrF1vo9mK6Fd9hZwNSMEm-o6x7zb64" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="360" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj1lkYHciK2AGyDWoQ9CD0vDAMVbNxV2w0_9za--1ksD5l0CciBqDNuyZeuAxLZdqwrBnWB3y5wRpndA6G8EKI0LeEuvbQ9uzD-nHz9FlSF1gdtyeyXzO9hxnKdQfTjbu29wsb2MSHYM22soSjzvs2FSNdwUzHgLgrF1vo9mK6Fd9hZwNSMEm-o6x7zb64=w225-h400" width="225" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Jasper Rex lives in Fayetteville, AR and is not quite 1. Isn't he an absolute doll?</span></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh9kn6YR12EPHHfl_awLmSvfqxqBLtqaOmnznINEHfoNXlpVIDeRDYOw__09etNK_eSLJK4zGPu8lA3Fr9kqRZQ7Ae03Q5y2nce78fXsg2AYf4PwT1MBbyQwjn6vvI3RZ7fpbZliU1TQ3fMRmw6J_68156sSroNhydfp519h-O9JhyKYIZaaAUFovzzpMQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="523" data-original-width="501" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh9kn6YR12EPHHfl_awLmSvfqxqBLtqaOmnznINEHfoNXlpVIDeRDYOw__09etNK_eSLJK4zGPu8lA3Fr9kqRZQ7Ae03Q5y2nce78fXsg2AYf4PwT1MBbyQwjn6vvI3RZ7fpbZliU1TQ3fMRmw6J_68156sSroNhydfp519h-O9JhyKYIZaaAUFovzzpMQ=w383-h400" width="383" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Four months ago I was adopted as grandmother to this precious little girl, Piper. She has stolen our heart as did her mother a few years ago.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">And that about wraps up the Hodgepodge for this week. Come back next Wednesday because I'm not going anywhere.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="85" data-original-width="140" height="86" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjThkQ3geDj5iiveEGhDZ3n47usipcfUCv-dmw2DzQc57m6OOVwo2yxw2eHTWMRu1wMAb71C3-G78BpKffGICXAqUIfhCp-zSPkX0yo6loKam-a6TFHFYcnXl54sMxVnlliUqhpQkgt49E/s1600/libby+sig+140.png" width="140" /></a></div>Elizabeth "Libby" Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17145264016754286426noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689804938550827918.post-50912544054981577442024-02-27T13:23:00.004-06:002024-02-27T16:45:53.635-06:00Creating Interesting Vignettes in Your House<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">With not much to do other than walk every hour, exercise three times a day, change out ice pack and lie in bed, I have had time to think about the blog again. There really isn't much to think about other than how quickly bored could I make a reader.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEmObpoknJ_uFzPMVlg9Eb3QdGNy9xXQQ3__p4s2wZJM0AAMJdvmhkjn07v2EqN9AciLFrQKwjqe9k-AXo7Os0hl1zPmFBEynRMFj3bDON3v8W9Bki0CxhasMfzE8MnlhWGmSpfY5Nw75VHpjLiEg0mgE4yicJFQC_VdcZF5EmYo-zvMr4ftKAO5WBg9k/s599/Bedroom%20Scene%201.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="449" data-original-width="599" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEmObpoknJ_uFzPMVlg9Eb3QdGNy9xXQQ3__p4s2wZJM0AAMJdvmhkjn07v2EqN9AciLFrQKwjqe9k-AXo7Os0hl1zPmFBEynRMFj3bDON3v8W9Bki0CxhasMfzE8MnlhWGmSpfY5Nw75VHpjLiEg0mgE4yicJFQC_VdcZF5EmYo-zvMr4ftKAO5WBg9k/w640-h480/Bedroom%20Scene%201.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">This is the view from my bed perch and one I may eventually get tired of before the month of March expires; however, right now I am not complaining.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Several weeks ago, I went around my little house enjoying a few of the vignettes I've created. I love groupings of favorite things that have something in common and are repeated somewhere else in the room or house. I find this creates continuity. Since we have such an open living space, it is important to have a flow. I also want to have items I like where I can see them.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaHawIYLGMbEkUFvMkSrh3vmC2UB4WZgtAg_KfMIu9NqDle7f9hHQ6uzmd_x6uL5bCSlx85T5Gug7pR2O3YONKr6mF98kn1RBdduzSlYl1nsXPXvMZvLMhahZxnatJdZ2tygfWCmtzlAzWzd4u9ypjOOxaHwsoy0QQql_cnyW1ZCR79s3mQ9GnzBQjWpM/s624/thumbnail_IMG_7386.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="624" data-original-width="463" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaHawIYLGMbEkUFvMkSrh3vmC2UB4WZgtAg_KfMIu9NqDle7f9hHQ6uzmd_x6uL5bCSlx85T5Gug7pR2O3YONKr6mF98kn1RBdduzSlYl1nsXPXvMZvLMhahZxnatJdZ2tygfWCmtzlAzWzd4u9ypjOOxaHwsoy0QQql_cnyW1ZCR79s3mQ9GnzBQjWpM/w474-h640/thumbnail_IMG_7386.jpg" width="474" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Our mantel is situated at an angle in our living room and is part of the focal point seen upon entry into our house. It is heavy white stone that requires anchoring. I have chosen to do that with a large gold framed picture above and a wrought iron fireplace screen below.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">To further create balance, I layered a black wrought iron framed mirror in front of the painting along with a matching candlestand to the side. I love the idea of layering and the depth and interest it creates. Because I am using deep teal pillows on my sofa, I added a lovely decorative plate in front of the mirror.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The colors of the plate also repeat the colors of the vase to the left and other gold touches throughout.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTOVSyw-h5IpXZGqJgHhMAe2DCm08phF4MQSyJm4ghxCUlUVQgjdc-LTcK2Va4qWvEGAfj15uITIdfuK5zAN-Tj4FGgcZx-E744PhkgtkzTSO6AQV7vIukNz2f4WxxPw1ipZS_XMjGrjv3x-baX6_zxXLuJ_C5_9ti0cPNdyfsXTQFQZmA76FAnIQuVZI/s444/thumbnail_IMG_7386%202.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="329" data-original-width="444" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTOVSyw-h5IpXZGqJgHhMAe2DCm08phF4MQSyJm4ghxCUlUVQgjdc-LTcK2Va4qWvEGAfj15uITIdfuK5zAN-Tj4FGgcZx-E744PhkgtkzTSO6AQV7vIukNz2f4WxxPw1ipZS_XMjGrjv3x-baX6_zxXLuJ_C5_9ti0cPNdyfsXTQFQZmA76FAnIQuVZI/w640-h474/thumbnail_IMG_7386%202.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">The grouping below is part of a focus wall that includes some of my original paintings and the TV. I love the two antique English pieces on this corner and how they play off the colors in each of the paintings. Again, you will see gold being used. On the opposite end is a single large abstract gold sculpture that anchors the weight of the console.</span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggXjZqsGblJrxYBYaHXZldGd-wo0VUQXX275A5vYcuHEUP94UmUnbRLMTcPtQfT0h41H_PjULabYsZEDns9hSJtblKQFIBvGXQUFX8se_A2v8UxGOtWXWvPMON5ddTn5JESplcWrGjrD_elmmAkafOs1DUIIHeWcMg4zEL7VNzf_jsMfaiAwO-DsPVm28/s628/thumbnail_IMG_7387%202.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="628" data-original-width="373" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggXjZqsGblJrxYBYaHXZldGd-wo0VUQXX275A5vYcuHEUP94UmUnbRLMTcPtQfT0h41H_PjULabYsZEDns9hSJtblKQFIBvGXQUFX8se_A2v8UxGOtWXWvPMON5ddTn5JESplcWrGjrD_elmmAkafOs1DUIIHeWcMg4zEL7VNzf_jsMfaiAwO-DsPVm28/w380-h640/thumbnail_IMG_7387%202.jpg" width="380" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv7LbRexxnE_av9pitdxQP1RfyxCFoCk9ILMQDZAbIMYAwMUeB_QJEds_6C26I0oOvpidaxZrZjiDc101Fm0BD0oLLwI8uJy-Q-OIig_eJd2D4j6FDdOnKxMOQ02DZtPRyoxkgcIdgH-oTG7CUrwsrbDQyeEh_HHktFsgO9_FyddUoLf15-T0gsYiv_hk/s340/thumbnail_IMG_7389%203.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="247" data-original-width="340" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv7LbRexxnE_av9pitdxQP1RfyxCFoCk9ILMQDZAbIMYAwMUeB_QJEds_6C26I0oOvpidaxZrZjiDc101Fm0BD0oLLwI8uJy-Q-OIig_eJd2D4j6FDdOnKxMOQ02DZtPRyoxkgcIdgH-oTG7CUrwsrbDQyeEh_HHktFsgO9_FyddUoLf15-T0gsYiv_hk/w640-h464/thumbnail_IMG_7389%203.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Behind the dining table is this vintage pie safe that holds china and special crystal bowls. Above it are two more of my paintings that continue the color scheme. I love the large red vase. A smaller matching piece is also located in another part of the room. The painting to the left has gold highlights that reflect and further repeat that theme.</span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioXWqOIIaPuMSkwTpVI2vhtQIqeQxoS7sZN-XQBGrnlFgyLIe1wr6VdOCs601cWS9mtljIVcrhdPiA16zPv-L1W1Tuquf8nlCMYlQhGMiG6MlZHc4QCdwOdPQVeuvPLrEb4XNKCPs2LED9QHVDu1k7utUYk2kfNXvTyjor8pX-nCdRadel7WKt2zqRO0o/s443/thumbnail_IMG_7389%202.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="439" data-original-width="443" height="634" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioXWqOIIaPuMSkwTpVI2vhtQIqeQxoS7sZN-XQBGrnlFgyLIe1wr6VdOCs601cWS9mtljIVcrhdPiA16zPv-L1W1Tuquf8nlCMYlQhGMiG6MlZHc4QCdwOdPQVeuvPLrEb4XNKCPs2LED9QHVDu1k7utUYk2kfNXvTyjor8pX-nCdRadel7WKt2zqRO0o/w640-h634/thumbnail_IMG_7389%202.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">This final grouping is in a corner between my sofa and the sunroom. </span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwMPTsedK_yZR6mIzF-LOQdV3wK2h1aRJkN9DTaIfh9uZ6qbZFYZwqnN9Ch2XH-nSWSmkIL87Cqf1CXNBQvFvsnrWQQqsbaxC2GEQpS5hlwig2F4_3vVCKqjCntYBLakVCIM2GElCSBsyyQ71BhJNEu2ei6pYnpN92GZqHURTO30WbgKzb6fzsjA5CYK0/s375/thumbnail_IMG_7385%202.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="344" data-original-width="375" height="588" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwMPTsedK_yZR6mIzF-LOQdV3wK2h1aRJkN9DTaIfh9uZ6qbZFYZwqnN9Ch2XH-nSWSmkIL87Cqf1CXNBQvFvsnrWQQqsbaxC2GEQpS5hlwig2F4_3vVCKqjCntYBLakVCIM2GElCSBsyyQ71BhJNEu2ei6pYnpN92GZqHURTO30WbgKzb6fzsjA5CYK0/w640-h588/thumbnail_IMG_7385%202.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The red velvet patchwork cloth, with sprinkles of tiny sequins, really anchors the overall color scheme of my house and fills this otherwise empty space. The large gold framed mirror is an interesting piece upon entry in the room. Again, I have used gold accessories.</span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6DuGzxvyga97xgRQ34rQ3BqDYilsfAbTmUkBa9P1Yfw-fn4zJ66BM7Q4ol2qMWkX5qe39vUBlncD1CupNgmT12wh2GpGa3Phlzwj20fNylPxZsijwq1QCDMqc47yzG247Zc4-c_O-LMNg6QTGcaTkaZG1LG7lh1jGAZwJftBfLt_2k1RfeslTB2hBzOs/s640/thumbnail_IMG_7385.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="481" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6DuGzxvyga97xgRQ34rQ3BqDYilsfAbTmUkBa9P1Yfw-fn4zJ66BM7Q4ol2qMWkX5qe39vUBlncD1CupNgmT12wh2GpGa3Phlzwj20fNylPxZsijwq1QCDMqc47yzG247Zc4-c_O-LMNg6QTGcaTkaZG1LG7lh1jGAZwJftBfLt_2k1RfeslTB2hBzOs/w482-h640/thumbnail_IMG_7385.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Once I am able to be up and moving around in April, I will bring in some spring accessories and who knows, may even paint something new.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I hope you have been inspired to see how you can create groupings using something unexpected already found in your home in unusual ways.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="85" data-original-width="140" height="86" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjThkQ3geDj5iiveEGhDZ3n47usipcfUCv-dmw2DzQc57m6OOVwo2yxw2eHTWMRu1wMAb71C3-G78BpKffGICXAqUIfhCp-zSPkX0yo6loKam-a6TFHFYcnXl54sMxVnlliUqhpQkgt49E/s1600/libby+sig+140.png" width="140" /></a></div>Elizabeth "Libby" Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17145264016754286426noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689804938550827918.post-26853084413086578052024-02-14T05:30:00.001-06:002024-02-14T05:30:00.131-06:00Happy Valentine's Day Hodgepodge<h2 style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Dancing Script; font-size: large;"><b>Happy Valentine's Day</b></span></h2><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.fromthissideofthepond.com/" rel="nofollow"><img alt="From this Side of the Pond" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrOYbCAZFE_Ni_c-CzgU2llCgpcvIqw6442jPkjXFgFPwaGLPDxNN1SBS71zSbHF7eYtepEETWvXG4rvLwvOntdHS2GcAXlR6JDtaxkmX-Tro9wjh9TWBTlcgZIBG6XciiPFRkjXIr8w/w200-h200/hodgepodge-button.png" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">1. What does love mean to you?</span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i><span style="color: #666666; font-family: verdana;"><b>This is a complex question with a simple yet complex answer. To love things is to enjoy and take pleasure in them, such as a few of my heirlooms and collected pieces. To love others is a command that is not always so easily carried out. Perhaps it can be most easily answered by paraphrasing this command: "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and soul and others as Christ has loved you."</b></span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><i><span style="color: #666666; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></i></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><i><span style="color: #666666; font-family: verdana;">To be loved is perhaps the greatest of life's joys and to love in return is the greatest joy and life's fulfillment. It is the small things, the giving of one's self to someone else. It is seeing the unconditional love in a child's eyes; hearing them call your name with a great big squeeze. It is having your husband bring in a bird feather he found; handing you a bouquet of flowers along with bags of groceries just because; or picking up his dirty clothes off the floor without being reminded. It is a hand squeeze and a final "I love you" at the end of the day.</span></i></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><i><span style="color: #666666; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></i></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><i><span style="color: #666666; font-family: verdana;">Love means a lot of things that simply make life worth living.</span></i></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">2. Is love blind?</span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>No, love is not blind because we are not ignorant of the flaws and shortcomings of others and we don't always 'love' these things; but loving someone does mean we love inspite of. Love is forgiving; love is patient; love is kind. But not blind.</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">3. How do you remember Valentine's Day as a kid? Do you have any special plans for the day this year?</span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>It meant decorating a Valentine box that would carry my often homemade valentines to be given to classmates, then to carry home all the treasured special cards shared with me. I would sit and look at and re-read the messages for days.</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>No, we do not have special plans for this day. It will be a regular Wednesday for us.</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">4. Are you a fan of the movie genre known as 'rom-com'? What's your favorite (or one of your favorites)?</span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>I actually had to look this up. No, I am not a big fan of romantic-comedy movies favoring more mysteries, thrillers, and historical documentaries. I do however have a few favorite romantic movies such as Sleepless in Seattle, You've Got Mail, and The Notebook. Do these count?</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">5. What's something you recently put your heart into?</span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>Reading the Bible through chronologically.</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">6. Insert your own random thought here.</span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>I will be having a total hip replacement on the 20th, a week from the day I'm writing this. It will entail five weeks of doing nothing other than walking a few steps every hour on the hour with a walker, sitting a few minutes each hour, wearing leg pumps and lying in bed. No leaving the house, no rocking, no bending, no lifting, and lots of healing. This might be a good time to fall in love with rom-coms. It will definitely put Dick's love to the test, but he is up to the challenge because he loves me unconditionally as "Christ loves."</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="85" data-original-width="140" height="86" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjThkQ3geDj5iiveEGhDZ3n47usipcfUCv-dmw2DzQc57m6OOVwo2yxw2eHTWMRu1wMAb71C3-G78BpKffGICXAqUIfhCp-zSPkX0yo6loKam-a6TFHFYcnXl54sMxVnlliUqhpQkgt49E/s1600/libby+sig+140.png" width="140" /></a></div></i></span></div>
<div class="from-this-side-of-the-pond-button" style="margin: 0px auto; width: 273px;"><br /></div>Elizabeth "Libby" Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17145264016754286426noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689804938550827918.post-14098008461592743852024-01-08T11:33:00.003-06:002024-01-08T11:33:18.439-06:00Christmas 2023 in Review<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Our Christmas 2023 began with a drive from my sister, Sarah's funeral in Central Louisiana on December 13, and ended at our son's home in Granger, Indiana the following day.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We had a few days alone with our Savannah, Granddaughter #4 as her family was attended a wedding in Florida. This was a blessed time with her of being loved and waited on and a time to begin the healing process in preparation for Christmas. Thank you Savannah for being the medicine I needed.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Following are a few pictures that capture Christmas Eve and Christmas day that pretty much centered around one little toddler named Jax Marcus.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj55ckNiCYNcAXzyuu_tp6f96FfcEoCLt91cE0hFQooZavA-mS0Kb1PrsM4PlrX9kSof1uRk760E5w7FIrr7pkNYGAA3wjCXAzfTCu_rasxJyUS4ULjkerWuHxUwnE3NxAUM3O36SDPf9qJnb96gvw_qrb3gM7NQnFbWrSSRCjOUX-MFJqlO3xh6dJyXio/s640/Snow.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj55ckNiCYNcAXzyuu_tp6f96FfcEoCLt91cE0hFQooZavA-mS0Kb1PrsM4PlrX9kSof1uRk760E5w7FIrr7pkNYGAA3wjCXAzfTCu_rasxJyUS4ULjkerWuHxUwnE3NxAUM3O36SDPf9qJnb96gvw_qrb3gM7NQnFbWrSSRCjOUX-MFJqlO3xh6dJyXio/w640-h480/Snow.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">On Monday morning we had a beautiful lake-effect snow that created white-out conditions for a while and brought the most amazing swirling snow flakes so characteristic of this area. The snow on the ground lasted for several days, but was gone by Christmas Eve. It fed my soul and I was so grateful for its beauty and sense of peace it always brings me.</span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvRCAcPs9UsHpxx5ISIyndvahyY_it1bVhyFGxNeSFixAVNDiQVBnbkbozBcyMzhqXbjJwbowRUGRIXN47S3QkvKsEmwjy-oJE9q7vQdYFO-jNt890ap-83eYoZugKJtYWHkVAgXX8ZHmL80B5bmDmV-cBon8RWTa3TsC0uzJPDFn0_mrNolXJJ6SzE6M/s640/thumbnail_IMG_7271.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="481" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvRCAcPs9UsHpxx5ISIyndvahyY_it1bVhyFGxNeSFixAVNDiQVBnbkbozBcyMzhqXbjJwbowRUGRIXN47S3QkvKsEmwjy-oJE9q7vQdYFO-jNt890ap-83eYoZugKJtYWHkVAgXX8ZHmL80B5bmDmV-cBon8RWTa3TsC0uzJPDFn0_mrNolXJJ6SzE6M/w482-h640/thumbnail_IMG_7271.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Traditionally, on Christmas Eve Michelle prepares a spread of a variety of appetizers according to the family's requests. A few of their favorites are an assortment of dips, the favorite being Hot Corn Dip and other finger foods.</span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkpa-zMLUNXad30mbEuNar8Mwss8L3Rkmq1ouvYoaSUMyDZWE2Tnf7rm1UrY3lTkvG4MjG_TVl1LSam_7m-frCyngjmS7e_j6FldfpIe_N3b181OtmfrZiRN66_F0rnW3yS1oAgQqddW7RnEDqUjBh-xVZ62NRtc9q5TJHF1DY6EttBS23MpuwC2ZofJw/s1512/Day%20Christmas.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1134" data-original-width="1512" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkpa-zMLUNXad30mbEuNar8Mwss8L3Rkmq1ouvYoaSUMyDZWE2Tnf7rm1UrY3lTkvG4MjG_TVl1LSam_7m-frCyngjmS7e_j6FldfpIe_N3b181OtmfrZiRN66_F0rnW3yS1oAgQqddW7RnEDqUjBh-xVZ62NRtc9q5TJHF1DY6EttBS23MpuwC2ZofJw/w640-h480/Day%20Christmas.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Instead of attending the midnight Christmas Eve service at our family's church, this year we attended a much earlier service in order to accommodate our little toddler's schedule.</span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh233TOcb-3fIb1PUQSHIQ7rm0naErT98w-reMVyXGPMPjMUm6QS7mpkKzwMQuEAmgYAsiDau266b7_N9xNdnA2Ki8JdY_fM3__f64SonWvTAO4SRShCYef5Jzr3Ripd6SdlqTx03oTM7Cwwivb7_huzHK2aWLAjSUrWlgiZoMiKF_oAsXeyEb3TacZpXg/s5037/IMG_2538.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3358" data-original-width="5037" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh233TOcb-3fIb1PUQSHIQ7rm0naErT98w-reMVyXGPMPjMUm6QS7mpkKzwMQuEAmgYAsiDau266b7_N9xNdnA2Ki8JdY_fM3__f64SonWvTAO4SRShCYef5Jzr3Ripd6SdlqTx03oTM7Cwwivb7_huzHK2aWLAjSUrWlgiZoMiKF_oAsXeyEb3TacZpXg/w640-h426/IMG_2538.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">During the night, Santa made his appearance and brought his usual beautifully wrapped avalanche of gifts for everyone.</span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Vuk1azaicKKbMtLZOy91wFaW6kwOpB4S6RiK8a699Obe3AuLhYW2qUd7OJhOJl4Edtt8anYzjjEHuNxgUeYGauSbo_FN2d76_GYOxd7hal1NJo4_9RrMgKc0zMECeWZ6KJVHRKO9b99ewst6tRFdq2-0TW1rH_sp6_MpxUFDVEdzQPacV5AoXkFWzbo/s5184/IMG_2553.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5184" data-original-width="3456" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Vuk1azaicKKbMtLZOy91wFaW6kwOpB4S6RiK8a699Obe3AuLhYW2qUd7OJhOJl4Edtt8anYzjjEHuNxgUeYGauSbo_FN2d76_GYOxd7hal1NJo4_9RrMgKc0zMECeWZ6KJVHRKO9b99ewst6tRFdq2-0TW1rH_sp6_MpxUFDVEdzQPacV5AoXkFWzbo/w426-h640/IMG_2553.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Needless to say, this bright blue-eyed baby boy was the center of attention.</span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjqFb8CKvsCR8f1bhrhMkVeE_Q1gf5g0tMUsFuCe92XOGNkFFbwreTA7U2fV1gji4wqXLgT4HqdAEyR75WwncYVkBDZmhU5qEe47PdpEVeT05PMQrjAhKUw6h5ewqeEVHg1MxXeJhVpZNlDki4WNuqF-3GC8EpYLWYLhT6czG5ZLKJ288HI_XaQKuORX0/s5184/IMG_2562.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="5184" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjqFb8CKvsCR8f1bhrhMkVeE_Q1gf5g0tMUsFuCe92XOGNkFFbwreTA7U2fV1gji4wqXLgT4HqdAEyR75WwncYVkBDZmhU5qEe47PdpEVeT05PMQrjAhKUw6h5ewqeEVHg1MxXeJhVpZNlDki4WNuqF-3GC8EpYLWYLhT6czG5ZLKJ288HI_XaQKuORX0/w640-h426/IMG_2562.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSuyfZIYOU7oA-7l2OAtnvVvOnRWJ5vLguzEPBpwe_XCvOR3f-yMDvi47T6mlJ1fDZBqArFmd7EXMkemDENwLOORcnzrpjSVm9nMCZHTSfmsUum6q2DzSuKAu5JAPWe_k5Gw3QkDp0zFTQuaKRUk8N9sXXxGxrbr_IJygVaoprIofPsVHQQQfu1yaPIlA/s5184/IMG_2628.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="5184" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSuyfZIYOU7oA-7l2OAtnvVvOnRWJ5vLguzEPBpwe_XCvOR3f-yMDvi47T6mlJ1fDZBqArFmd7EXMkemDENwLOORcnzrpjSVm9nMCZHTSfmsUum6q2DzSuKAu5JAPWe_k5Gw3QkDp0zFTQuaKRUk8N9sXXxGxrbr_IJygVaoprIofPsVHQQQfu1yaPIlA/w640-h426/IMG_2628.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Chasing bubbles was so much fun.</span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwmAZj-5mKpnyc8unb05-vNJRZwcvwKRD3wE0tdmpv8MMYS0y8yOLQZMOP0T5kO7V3CmePyxaYArN3_Iw8-xYZr58qemKFTVoBUEndVwBujiLlXrW0BvTIPo4K_9Xo6WLIhE-ceyvtgMfidIkrXitDlRCodzzrGRYMXGuBI41IgYk0YqbLWIzibZFlBAg/s5184/IMG_2636.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="5184" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwmAZj-5mKpnyc8unb05-vNJRZwcvwKRD3wE0tdmpv8MMYS0y8yOLQZMOP0T5kO7V3CmePyxaYArN3_Iw8-xYZr58qemKFTVoBUEndVwBujiLlXrW0BvTIPo4K_9Xo6WLIhE-ceyvtgMfidIkrXitDlRCodzzrGRYMXGuBI41IgYk0YqbLWIzibZFlBAg/w640-h426/IMG_2636.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2qXuvGJyzqL0-u6bi4PRIHsSj40nzjRmU1Id7H0Ulu5EtPgs-bhln0je1RW1NozIzQNh41JT4dNTmv47jBCAiyJLIdkrze9RZZrSvcgRm1mlE4evHpbu4RT9ZN3j6Wy0rspJoPdBr1GCdeRhmbfknnlDGHYrosol6qFW97uh1tgcMvNUHuO_4UzWAAGI/s5184/IMG_2648.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="5184" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2qXuvGJyzqL0-u6bi4PRIHsSj40nzjRmU1Id7H0Ulu5EtPgs-bhln0je1RW1NozIzQNh41JT4dNTmv47jBCAiyJLIdkrze9RZZrSvcgRm1mlE4evHpbu4RT9ZN3j6Wy0rspJoPdBr1GCdeRhmbfknnlDGHYrosol6qFW97uh1tgcMvNUHuO_4UzWAAGI/w640-h426/IMG_2648.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">A future weight lifter like his daddy.</span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii_vjVXFqvWXgNwQA3goEQKfQhvIcbQMzxg5N_jREtZoLNwbYbn7_eiyR-f6G8jBPk9UnLC1sOIvGjKCG9RJQFvCyGrBk3qh80dEy17y_nqDyR0TsbBsIGP3YtSzstXA9AwS4MnkDHmsbNs8mbIQquFNF3fuQkPzprY3c0y8Cn1c8FrvXcttALJ4TepB4/s5184/IMG_2662.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="5184" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii_vjVXFqvWXgNwQA3goEQKfQhvIcbQMzxg5N_jREtZoLNwbYbn7_eiyR-f6G8jBPk9UnLC1sOIvGjKCG9RJQFvCyGrBk3qh80dEy17y_nqDyR0TsbBsIGP3YtSzstXA9AwS4MnkDHmsbNs8mbIQquFNF3fuQkPzprY3c0y8Cn1c8FrvXcttALJ4TepB4/w640-h426/IMG_2662.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVfSY3J0LaA6mxBDgctqtVoxSjynk6LRmqu6ElIFZ-K7J_9zAXOQ1HuZKjG7Q5HIMBzoAjdyy-lxXuiD8csG3nEP9yw4ueGfBPd056ue5HwDNZLcE_H4tlL7O0X3141gVnp_r9kjvI-Ac-KjNzNI_Vue6TbM4jbyE1DwHu4joWfBWNKJiwM3r675QQztM/s5184/IMG_2588%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="5184" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVfSY3J0LaA6mxBDgctqtVoxSjynk6LRmqu6ElIFZ-K7J_9zAXOQ1HuZKjG7Q5HIMBzoAjdyy-lxXuiD8csG3nEP9yw4ueGfBPd056ue5HwDNZLcE_H4tlL7O0X3141gVnp_r9kjvI-Ac-KjNzNI_Vue6TbM4jbyE1DwHu4joWfBWNKJiwM3r675QQztM/w640-h426/IMG_2588%20(1).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Jax was so attentive to Da reading the Christmas story.</span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMd3WmcJ3pyrOVBI44q0-zfieFmNxAqJRTlgFswIFepp0Sx6aMQWJRQZZRccLmOYivNOYODVxbEHCrpLsiGjpcCjlT8jFe6TuZBs7mEl2uenXoSVLbb2yf6lzzGpHWi6bNEm-HUrGIYxjaJkG7Jm7E_8mm7cTli4hBv2gsclifF4LUPX1utTNNF7tgC5s/s5184/IMG_2669.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="5184" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMd3WmcJ3pyrOVBI44q0-zfieFmNxAqJRTlgFswIFepp0Sx6aMQWJRQZZRccLmOYivNOYODVxbEHCrpLsiGjpcCjlT8jFe6TuZBs7mEl2uenXoSVLbb2yf6lzzGpHWi6bNEm-HUrGIYxjaJkG7Jm7E_8mm7cTli4hBv2gsclifF4LUPX1utTNNF7tgC5s/w640-h426/IMG_2669.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">While we were celebrating Christmas in Northern Indiana, our Dallas family was also attending Christmas Eve worship services and celebrations.</span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS5KaYqLbh4-Ze47N-xIZGQ_BXk2FwqmN0wHE_rsVNtTLVqp9Y12NwOauGYkPiVma-7Alf-5W2t091Pyl7kDeESh6u5tbVNGvAu7PMVtZuZpICIBPjveMGaMx0d1sw5RrOGPsRtoQAWyf8fXMedud-6xHA1t3FxYL2VenHOrbJAyv_bsmPf6XC1g8qLHE/s1944/Harbison%20Christmas.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1407" data-original-width="1944" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS5KaYqLbh4-Ze47N-xIZGQ_BXk2FwqmN0wHE_rsVNtTLVqp9Y12NwOauGYkPiVma-7Alf-5W2t091Pyl7kDeESh6u5tbVNGvAu7PMVtZuZpICIBPjveMGaMx0d1sw5RrOGPsRtoQAWyf8fXMedud-6xHA1t3FxYL2VenHOrbJAyv_bsmPf6XC1g8qLHE/w640-h464/Harbison%20Christmas.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLBRkhctRK6jE3kuSGmf0FcyptfOJgW6ZPXqm44p0BfClanVyEGE5NFHI6EM5v6Y0lSkCee0OtbfGH4-eDW7n05hYB3JaLuRA9nedwl1MKqis8KZAwHJjn74tcsQUO-Ks-msAAQzU98Oef9OcISFXHht_ahx_rOHyMqaujFqW57AZrJOeZax5vYvhTrFU/s640/thumbnail_IMG_0110.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="481" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLBRkhctRK6jE3kuSGmf0FcyptfOJgW6ZPXqm44p0BfClanVyEGE5NFHI6EM5v6Y0lSkCee0OtbfGH4-eDW7n05hYB3JaLuRA9nedwl1MKqis8KZAwHJjn74tcsQUO-Ks-msAAQzU98Oef9OcISFXHht_ahx_rOHyMqaujFqW57AZrJOeZax5vYvhTrFU/w482-h640/thumbnail_IMG_0110.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9eCEif3gDDT3U5CM9lRq5mqu6MYZKBCxk_Kaz1p_67lWzbrV79iy5I5MAoRpK1mHS0YQpZVWBHVJI2a5pXNg7qpWY3Cj-sAgseir-W6Wb0XLhnZzQadixdDX7QK-2gh8ulrGrbOHGvXnAEIUQMAg-0pjy2hkHq2gd8d8trcRbLPgJ9wqvAgcWibWjtnU/s543/thumbnail_IMG_7278.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="543" data-original-width="360" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9eCEif3gDDT3U5CM9lRq5mqu6MYZKBCxk_Kaz1p_67lWzbrV79iy5I5MAoRpK1mHS0YQpZVWBHVJI2a5pXNg7qpWY3Cj-sAgseir-W6Wb0XLhnZzQadixdDX7QK-2gh8ulrGrbOHGvXnAEIUQMAg-0pjy2hkHq2gd8d8trcRbLPgJ9wqvAgcWibWjtnU/w424-h640/thumbnail_IMG_7278.png" width="424" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Great Grandson #1, Landon had a wonderful Christmas and was so excited about all this wonderful season with family.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I trust your Christmas and New Year has brought many memorable experiences and anticipation of a great things to come.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="85" data-original-width="140" height="86" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjThkQ3geDj5iiveEGhDZ3n47usipcfUCv-dmw2DzQc57m6OOVwo2yxw2eHTWMRu1wMAb71C3-G78BpKffGICXAqUIfhCp-zSPkX0yo6loKam-a6TFHFYcnXl54sMxVnlliUqhpQkgt49E/s1600/libby+sig+140.png" width="140" /></a></div><br />Elizabeth "Libby" Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17145264016754286426noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689804938550827918.post-32606582259423125282023-12-24T13:27:00.004-06:002023-12-24T13:27:56.177-06:00How to Christmas in Grief<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Dancing Script; font-size: x-large;">Christmas Eve 2023</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand;">My heart is so full on this Christmas Eve day with family in Indiana. It is full of gratitude for memorable Christmases past with my parents, sisters and their families.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand;">The memory of piling all our family Christmas in the car on Sunday afternoon so we could make a quick escape after the Sunday evening Christmas music of which Dick was in charge. We gladly and with eager anticipation made the three hour drive down to South Central Louisiana to my parent's home. Of course, we charted Santa's sleigh the entire way and even caught an occasional glimpse as it flew quickly overhead.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand;">Once we spotted "Poppa's Light" - the only caution light in the village - John and Christy were either in my lap in the front seat or hanging over our shoulders waiting to see who would get the first sight of Poppa and Larla standing in the yard waiting for us. This was way before cell phones so how they knew it time, I'll never know.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand;">Daddy would always have a bowl of his finely and lovingly crafted fruit salad waiting for me. That is what I miss most of our traditions because he delighted in spending hours cutting up the apples, bananas and cherries just right and seeing my face when I took the first bite. We always arrived first because my sisters lived much closer and didn't require a midnight arrival, but came the next day with all their entourage. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand;">These were precious memories that will always declare not only my childhood but that of my children and their cousins as well. Dad left us shortly after our Christmas in 1993, and our family Christmas was never the same.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand;">The death of our mother is 2005 was another milestone, and now the deaths of Thomas and Sarah will forever be a milestone for their families. New traditions will begin while they desperately attempt to hang on to those most precious. Things are never the same, but out of sadness, grief and lose can come beauty and life. That is my hope and prayer for both Thomas and Sarah's families this year. That is what they would have wanted.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand;">May Jesus Christ be honored and glorified as all of us gather to remember, to reflect on our Father's great gift in sending His Son to earth so that we might know His great love and sacrifice for us. Thank you, Father God for showing us how to live with loss and gain simultaneously through your example.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand;">As I was writing this, I was summoned up stairs to be given a private preview of #4 Granddaughter's wedding dress. Through tears, I was reminded again that life does indeed go on and how best to honor our loved ones than to embrace that life to its fullest. To rejoice in good times; to support, encourage and love the ones left behind, is how to live in times of grief.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdqoQq7EXhz-ZwIsukLASGeJHTawrrmVfST9p4u2pVbXVVj2GH57zjzPVWCQMoYPtC-6yXDSyYT-YarghkxL_YDjfLHtvwxQshdv_Y3IFmmXbN5aWeY_hcIVtKXNSFmXH7Uo5f_sgDKRzKPXjA_9m0oxVHTVS6KP6KOvQMOwvgdo8G5P_qzvHobZp49Ug/s844/Dec.%201993.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="541" data-original-width="844" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdqoQq7EXhz-ZwIsukLASGeJHTawrrmVfST9p4u2pVbXVVj2GH57zjzPVWCQMoYPtC-6yXDSyYT-YarghkxL_YDjfLHtvwxQshdv_Y3IFmmXbN5aWeY_hcIVtKXNSFmXH7Uo5f_sgDKRzKPXjA_9m0oxVHTVS6KP6KOvQMOwvgdo8G5P_qzvHobZp49Ug/w640-h410/Dec.%201993.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Christmas 1993<br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="85" data-original-width="140" height="86" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjThkQ3geDj5iiveEGhDZ3n47usipcfUCv-dmw2DzQc57m6OOVwo2yxw2eHTWMRu1wMAb71C3-G78BpKffGICXAqUIfhCp-zSPkX0yo6loKam-a6TFHFYcnXl54sMxVnlliUqhpQkgt49E/s1600/libby+sig+140.png" width="140" /></a></div>Elizabeth "Libby" Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17145264016754286426noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689804938550827918.post-39121004910971474552023-12-20T05:30:00.004-06:002023-12-20T05:30:00.132-06:00A Final 2023 Hodgepodge Tea Party<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqTx20LfvtfD8CTfrOVWS7Z6-JI2wnNysN_2CoSKt7HOY6NOaDmBbZaBqItSNWonJ2tm1Hz_UkmKNPVkfDkvlFDOeQC2aATIK8cYpW7CaWJfsPkI5f5RyTrILawnehUXLb-u6dDzKBA-2GrOzAU_Uq5rZCAmy6bAfaLmPfJahny1nwo5uvv-pZF4mHTdw/s562/FB%202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="208" data-original-width="562" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqTx20LfvtfD8CTfrOVWS7Z6-JI2wnNysN_2CoSKt7HOY6NOaDmBbZaBqItSNWonJ2tm1Hz_UkmKNPVkfDkvlFDOeQC2aATIK8cYpW7CaWJfsPkI5f5RyTrILawnehUXLb-u6dDzKBA-2GrOzAU_Uq5rZCAmy6bAfaLmPfJahny1nwo5uvv-pZF4mHTdw/w400-h148/FB%202.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Dancing Script; font-size: large;"><b>Merry Christmas</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Dancing Script; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: verdana;">Thank you for joining in for the final <a href="http://www.fromthissideofthepond.com/">Wednesday Hodgepodge</a> blog post for 2023.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>1. Did you do more talking or more listening yesterday? Was it by choice or by necessity?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCUmRVlOsHE61ri1gTGIWGhofTD2cdrEdJ9ZQV7qX05MB6YhM9XpYsg10VrWOggaJqISpzOfpbJ9eeAnEFyMsx69AmuepwrVUxFx7bjulje2S_0S-YiT3zQOVycJRRQHH3V6dhoQ6pT81YnLDXCDeGCNBMzJhJFEDtVpjLRzsqVphsiuizvOrfSVWjjME/s640/Snow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCUmRVlOsHE61ri1gTGIWGhofTD2cdrEdJ9ZQV7qX05MB6YhM9XpYsg10VrWOggaJqISpzOfpbJ9eeAnEFyMsx69AmuepwrVUxFx7bjulje2S_0S-YiT3zQOVycJRRQHH3V6dhoQ6pT81YnLDXCDeGCNBMzJhJFEDtVpjLRzsqVphsiuizvOrfSVWjjME/w400-h300/Snow.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>I think I did more listening yesterday. We are currently at our son's home in northern Indiana for Christmas. Yesterday brought the most beautiful wintery lake effect snowfall, so I spent most of my day watching the flakes swirl and fly around before landing on the many surfaces that this morning reflect the abundance. Listening was definitely by choice.</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>2. Are you a tea drinker? Hot, cold, or both? Flavored? What do you like in your tea> do you make Christmas tea this time of year? What time of day do you like to sip your tea?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhR7j-U09CMPhuIQAI1rVxrYZ98arubVnFTvT_QPAgqNRsRezjwU3tMiPgQoGmBE7PpstdH69-uC5Cmuj5lWSh0s7AzdzkW-23cI3Md427XX02l2dyvtL0ee7LVr1Im432E7zSLsOz1F2P_vH8dRI72B7lD9EjdbQn4NgO08jNhoeGusrcdy_zWQvv5b1I" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="679" data-original-width="679" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhR7j-U09CMPhuIQAI1rVxrYZ98arubVnFTvT_QPAgqNRsRezjwU3tMiPgQoGmBE7PpstdH69-uC5Cmuj5lWSh0s7AzdzkW-23cI3Md427XX02l2dyvtL0ee7LVr1Im432E7zSLsOz1F2P_vH8dRI72B7lD9EjdbQn4NgO08jNhoeGusrcdy_zWQvv5b1I" width="240" /></a></div><br /><i>I am a tea drinker, and the above is my early morning preference year round. During the warm temps I enjoy a mid-day glass of sweet iced tea with a touch of lemonade. We call it an Arnold Palmer. Now, for a teabag cup of tea, I prefer it in the evening with a touch of honey or my favorite liquid sweetener. We used to make a Christmas Spiced Tea using instant tea and Tang, but I haven't made it in ages. Maybe something to think about doing again.</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>3. What's an activity you won't try, an event you won't attend, or an athletic challenge you won't take part in not even for '<i>all the tea in China</i>"?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>Won't try:<span> </span></i></span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>Hang-gliding</i></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>Won't attend:<span> Rock concert, NWA (professional wrestling) match</span></i></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><span>Won't take challenge:<span> Rugby or anything else involving contact, movement or agility skills</span></span></i></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><span><br /></span></i></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b style="font-family: verdana;">4. What's something most people seem to love but is not <i>'your cup of tea"?</i></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>Coffee</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>5. How does your family celebrate New Year's Eve?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>It is usually only Dick and I for New Year's Eve so it is a quiet evening usually in front of the TV.</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>6. Insert your own random thought here.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>The past couple weeks have been the most sad and emotional time for my family. On Dec. 1 both my sisters and my middle sister's husband were involved in a head-on car collision resulting in the death of my brother-in-law and youngest sister. How do you deal with such loss? Only through the assurance of knowing they knew Jesus as their Saviour and through the strength and comfort He provides.</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>This Christmas and days and months following will be difficult to say the least, but treasured memories abound and the bond we shared as sisters will bring so much peace and comfort. Below is a collage of a few Christmases past when we all gathered at our parent's home. You may notice that we are touchers and huggers.</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq2gWaLw519ldt_j11acdcDc2ik6uIUPKMrbrgctHMOWKnYAgwNRwbO6yoO3LxJI4q4WxDUOHDcxJJTbmwygzbm-kGRg9M482zumtmlUdA-_aYZWqr8mvYqpBya7G78Dx59l4rLTMOky9yBys-amljNV-fFnoJxPQtnHt5CndxMQRIzeo0gl5jKcsY974/s700/Collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="541" data-original-width="700" height="494" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq2gWaLw519ldt_j11acdcDc2ik6uIUPKMrbrgctHMOWKnYAgwNRwbO6yoO3LxJI4q4WxDUOHDcxJJTbmwygzbm-kGRg9M482zumtmlUdA-_aYZWqr8mvYqpBya7G78Dx59l4rLTMOky9yBys-amljNV-fFnoJxPQtnHt5CndxMQRIzeo0gl5jKcsY974/w640-h494/Collage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><b>Don't leave anything left unsaid or unshared this Christmas season, and may God's blessings abound.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="85" data-original-width="140" height="86" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjThkQ3geDj5iiveEGhDZ3n47usipcfUCv-dmw2DzQc57m6OOVwo2yxw2eHTWMRu1wMAb71C3-G78BpKffGICXAqUIfhCp-zSPkX0yo6loKam-a6TFHFYcnXl54sMxVnlliUqhpQkgt49E/s1600/libby+sig+140.png" width="140" /></a></div>Elizabeth "Libby" Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17145264016754286426noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689804938550827918.post-25576509360739873732023-11-29T05:30:00.002-06:002023-11-29T06:40:10.467-06:00A Post Thanksgiving Hodgepodge<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">After months of being away from the Hodgepodge, I finally found a Tuesday with time to sit a minute between appointments to put together a blog post.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Thank you <a href="http://www.fromthissideofthepond.com/">Joyce</a> for always being here even when one of us isn't.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="from-this-side-of-the-pond-button" style="margin: 0px auto; width: 273px;"> <a href="http://www.fromthissideofthepond.com/" rel="nofollow"> <img alt="From this Side of the Pond" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrOYbCAZFE_Ni_c-CzgU2llCgpcvIqw6442jPkjXFgFPwaGLPDxNN1SBS71zSbHF7eYtepEETWvXG4rvLwvOntdHS2GcAXlR6JDtaxkmX-Tro9wjh9TWBTlcgZIBG6XciiPFRkjXIr8w/s1600/hodgepodge-button.png" width="273" /> </a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: verdana;"><b>1. Does anybody really know what day it is? Last week we skipped the Hodgepodge and I just assumed this week would find us in December, but nope. Still November. Do you wear a watch? Use a paper calendar or strictly electronic? What's your favorite hour of the day? Why?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: verdana;"><b>It really does seem like November has been unusually long for some reason. The most longed for month has gone on long enough for me.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: verdana;"><b>I do not always know what day it is and that is why I keep both a paper calendar and electronic. Even with these helps, we get confused some days. In fact, just this week, we both realized we had doctors appointments set on the day we are to be out-of-state for a funeral. Alas!</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: verdana;"><b>I do wear a watch. While my Apple watch is charging overnight (why do they not hold a charge longer???) I wear my Fitbit watch to sleep and for my early morning walk.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: verdana;"><b>My favorite hour of the day is just before daylight. I love to be outdoors walking at this time, regardless of the temperature.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: verdana;"><b>2. Tell us something about how you celebrated the Thanksgiving holiday.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: verdana;"><b>We traditionally celebrate the day with our daughter and her family as well as her husband's family. I will let the following pictures describe how our day was spent.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinhVguhTCKXNIergdCg1XtOe2bsv5XIEetQW_ocgcAPKEzdVuzQwn7kVgdjztNLXHnXq-z1-hOX8BcSQ23SRRvvVP_tOjbfzM85jSxmoswYooYVM-kTqeKP2BJAniWg9Z9ujBsVaZAdixfoqGVNRIXogzGzs6oR8FSah-1aZEkVtJ4J7QVRqC0vfeIHf4/s1600/Collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinhVguhTCKXNIergdCg1XtOe2bsv5XIEetQW_ocgcAPKEzdVuzQwn7kVgdjztNLXHnXq-z1-hOX8BcSQ23SRRvvVP_tOjbfzM85jSxmoswYooYVM-kTqeKP2BJAniWg9Z9ujBsVaZAdixfoqGVNRIXogzGzs6oR8FSah-1aZEkVtJ4J7QVRqC0vfeIHf4/w640-h480/Collage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><b>Nothing quite like enjoying special days through the eyes of toddler, especially when he is your Great Grandson #1.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: verdana;"><b>3. What's a sound you hate to hear?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: verdana;"><b>It used to be an alarm clock but thankfully we don't set those anymore. These days it would be the sound of emergency vehicles because it means someone is in trouble.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: verdana;"><b>4. Where do you not mind waiting?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;"><b>I <span style="font-family: verdana;">seriously cannot think of anywhere. Waiting is not my favorite pastime; however, I do try to be content and keep my mind preoccupied in whatever long wait I find myself.</span></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><span style="color: #444444;">5. I really wish </span><span style="color: #990000;"><u>all my family could be together for Christmas. But, since that will not happen, I wish for a new administration to be in charge of running our government in 2024. This may also be a stretch.</u></span></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><span style="color: #990000;"><br /></span></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><span style="color: #990000;">My biggest wish and prayer is that all those who are struggling and without the knowledge of and belief in Jesus Christ would come to know Him as their personal Lord and Savior.</span></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: verdana;"><b>6. Insert your own random thought here.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: verdana;"><b>Although we were not with our Indiana bunch for Thanksgiving, let me share a few of their special pictures, simply because you need to see our big Great Grandson #2.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjp9-uV_XiJwzprIivN4JJu6GhKMRDVQiy1qnzSr3Ljae-sIbbd3-fEbh_yHI87K9fQl1WYQ_vvizqIrgFnra8aeGWwqi2Jk3lYbF-JepADmnxnEdiAYDOvaeLYBOOMXh_odeNIpLIV-Fcq3IQ2S3ETIBZraREBoKvvo5GdSwHM52QnBdye9ZQx41yhfQ/s1600/Day%20Collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjp9-uV_XiJwzprIivN4JJu6GhKMRDVQiy1qnzSr3Ljae-sIbbd3-fEbh_yHI87K9fQl1WYQ_vvizqIrgFnra8aeGWwqi2Jk3lYbF-JepADmnxnEdiAYDOvaeLYBOOMXh_odeNIpLIV-Fcq3IQ2S3ETIBZraREBoKvvo5GdSwHM52QnBdye9ZQx41yhfQ/w640-h480/Day%20Collage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><b>We can't wait to spend Christmas with this part of our beautiful family.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="85" data-original-width="140" height="86" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjThkQ3geDj5iiveEGhDZ3n47usipcfUCv-dmw2DzQc57m6OOVwo2yxw2eHTWMRu1wMAb71C3-G78BpKffGICXAqUIfhCp-zSPkX0yo6loKam-a6TFHFYcnXl54sMxVnlliUqhpQkgt49E/s1600/libby+sig+140.png" width="140" /></a></div>Elizabeth "Libby" Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17145264016754286426noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689804938550827918.post-8578148403766494422023-10-06T00:41:00.004-05:002023-10-06T00:41:59.575-05:00September Anniversary Trip - Santa Fe & 58 Years<div class="separator" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Because Santa Fe is one of our favorite places with lots of family memories, we chose to return after almost 25 years to celebrate our 58th wedding anniversary. The last time we were there, we introduced this place of enchantment to our oldest grandchild, Chandler.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfJNUrtB2JliS5Ah5SphSZp45ImATVXmHXwnLMQH8PjShAfcmJAJdSJRYrXTpY8NNuibMl0u-XEtlmReX1-SStVqLDW4Qw5yPEy3EllxBmvwgqXwUQxtlLBLIjUJHzQmBIDsvLu2o_Rw6M7nuhGY4_3ftNFjU9T92OMJbm2RY6FLP5mKVsj6rijmvCnbE/s1354/thumbnail_IMG_0865.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="545" data-original-width="1354" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfJNUrtB2JliS5Ah5SphSZp45ImATVXmHXwnLMQH8PjShAfcmJAJdSJRYrXTpY8NNuibMl0u-XEtlmReX1-SStVqLDW4Qw5yPEy3EllxBmvwgqXwUQxtlLBLIjUJHzQmBIDsvLu2o_Rw6M7nuhGY4_3ftNFjU9T92OMJbm2RY6FLP5mKVsj6rijmvCnbE/w640-h258/thumbnail_IMG_0865.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The old marker on the right side of the road that we always stopped and climbed on to take a picture has been replaced with this large overhead sign. It is not nearly as much fun as the old one.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh45ZF6QP7QChtJwxbDryxkNagyz6tUcxQNOdyNo9bQ1u-wS_3OyQspv4Q9KIICGo6kFeJYWurVc9ZtxWHj1_ORQBNK4JHW-KAqWGG5a1NwWQvSI02Wnwq1SOI2SziEwUTiCmRQde07gswgV6r3SvJY-OGkt4Y9Nh939lNvIj7bJZS4d-LVT2wvOx3ftDc/s640/thumbnail_IMG_6280.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="481" data-original-width="640" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh45ZF6QP7QChtJwxbDryxkNagyz6tUcxQNOdyNo9bQ1u-wS_3OyQspv4Q9KIICGo6kFeJYWurVc9ZtxWHj1_ORQBNK4JHW-KAqWGG5a1NwWQvSI02Wnwq1SOI2SziEwUTiCmRQde07gswgV6r3SvJY-OGkt4Y9Nh939lNvIj7bJZS4d-LVT2wvOx3ftDc/w640-h482/thumbnail_IMG_6280.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Cline's Corner was always a stop as it is where we would turn to go toward Glorieta. It hasn't changed a bit.</span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoCA3cEeRbDCeu1sBT1dLU8lm_HfNSuAgilMZDpEolUK89yaFHlrgdWifFnJjDKPaU2oi3SVIvLhpKcpfiEA7Mv40NKFczaktPwJUMfPuBYlH-6NsTrlsvkMO0n_k6WFLxj4F2F0chEbRK3FMkOTurPNWfT6x0wgUdBdubzeyykEA-Yu_l9TuHwMvt1Q4/s640/thumbnail_IMG_0866.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="357" data-original-width="640" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoCA3cEeRbDCeu1sBT1dLU8lm_HfNSuAgilMZDpEolUK89yaFHlrgdWifFnJjDKPaU2oi3SVIvLhpKcpfiEA7Mv40NKFczaktPwJUMfPuBYlH-6NsTrlsvkMO0n_k6WFLxj4F2F0chEbRK3FMkOTurPNWfT6x0wgUdBdubzeyykEA-Yu_l9TuHwMvt1Q4/w640-h358/thumbnail_IMG_0866.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The view on this road brought back memories as we always got excited when we could see mountains in the distance. This trip was no exception.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHZ9PBRurWtpwxTTw8Va6RtwpH_nO4tj6ZLL4WY8BOZmh7jRrBgO8w72P6x8w69lPZjIMx69xqPi_818Mj7D4CjlPCTDXbsVx8wDKXbS-AR-bRd_YLdC9wwjhbmXeMpFD1lcQX3jVzXc1pO6Ukaf7QwQmrlhGMHntGlet9yk4byMZlitCltuHAVwtiL2Y/s640/thumbnail_IMG_6288.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="481" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHZ9PBRurWtpwxTTw8Va6RtwpH_nO4tj6ZLL4WY8BOZmh7jRrBgO8w72P6x8w69lPZjIMx69xqPi_818Mj7D4CjlPCTDXbsVx8wDKXbS-AR-bRd_YLdC9wwjhbmXeMpFD1lcQX3jVzXc1pO6Ukaf7QwQmrlhGMHntGlet9yk4byMZlitCltuHAVwtiL2Y/w482-h640/thumbnail_IMG_6288.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">The first thing we did after checking into our hotel was to walk to the Plaza. They were having a big Labor Day Festival with all sorts of vendors. It was quite a busy place on this Monday, but we didn't mind. It was exciting to just be there.</span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif6bpEcLHitmw4YThIjSEocyvg5x01ROyl-Ebjtp8doCHBYwEPVO0hUkS8PU2EBETc8cJGOH9wXdH5yWLt6dGny-70dNxz1xf5D2DqQ0i5177q7jLhgkF_r6ApswiMZJqgOONY8dCsu5GU83RB1ZZWhaYHxRG5F1wmXB_foErwCYB9HgIAOn_RIzt3jzY/s640/thumbnail_IMG_6285.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="481" data-original-width="640" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif6bpEcLHitmw4YThIjSEocyvg5x01ROyl-Ebjtp8doCHBYwEPVO0hUkS8PU2EBETc8cJGOH9wXdH5yWLt6dGny-70dNxz1xf5D2DqQ0i5177q7jLhgkF_r6ApswiMZJqgOONY8dCsu5GU83RB1ZZWhaYHxRG5F1wmXB_foErwCYB9HgIAOn_RIzt3jzY/w640-h482/thumbnail_IMG_6285.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We enjoyed an ice cream cone while people watching and enjoying the atmosphere.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHkuZSstzt7yHeXHYQm6qenHABxn4ED7XF6Ld3MRV_C5VfSHpI84mbqpcJBS6MEeB_rBUdqs2SBjKHM2jt-FlPIOFdvOrnWUkx3tnIS1TyQ-r0Re4w66YGaRbc6gbUBOnkRXxyA3VKl3ADlnAdYPxqAm00z343SD69Jz52yUQlbQ7R99ukoSWuJFHVYbM/s640/thumbnail_IMG_6290.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="473" data-original-width="640" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHkuZSstzt7yHeXHYQm6qenHABxn4ED7XF6Ld3MRV_C5VfSHpI84mbqpcJBS6MEeB_rBUdqs2SBjKHM2jt-FlPIOFdvOrnWUkx3tnIS1TyQ-r0Re4w66YGaRbc6gbUBOnkRXxyA3VKl3ADlnAdYPxqAm00z343SD69Jz52yUQlbQ7R99ukoSWuJFHVYbM/w640-h474/thumbnail_IMG_6290.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We enjoyed visiting with this Native American jewelry maker and hearing about his history and heritage.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg851Ogp2J7vim8Lh5HL6l6nTvBlz54zQfZiU69-kcRbix_h8na02froOAYNVis2PxsjFHKdjSQWiDBQ8lAhYxT8lNfgPLe_k1uF245kwSrPwoVZJ_PQUw-wXYlku3XwhzykI5txgpTx-Xv6skjHwWLDtiW1-fhYssQ7d9mdtxSGzSEtlUdJpLMZotrlQ/s640/thumbnail_IMG_6291.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="345" data-original-width="640" height="346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg851Ogp2J7vim8Lh5HL6l6nTvBlz54zQfZiU69-kcRbix_h8na02froOAYNVis2PxsjFHKdjSQWiDBQ8lAhYxT8lNfgPLe_k1uF245kwSrPwoVZJ_PQUw-wXYlku3XwhzykI5txgpTx-Xv6skjHwWLDtiW1-fhYssQ7d9mdtxSGzSEtlUdJpLMZotrlQ/w640-h346/thumbnail_IMG_6291.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">This lady was also very interesting as she told us that her disabled daughter was the inspiration for her jewelry. Everyone has a story and most are eager to share it with someone interested in hearing it.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMwkzlv8vlcqtQRuG-sYTMhsOOaPiU9lSMyK6AjxgXlDgszHv7gIzF1488wBy9h0BSo6mXbnc4bl-0UVLTitiGwUqerbJNFouP7i7xVOxwQA8bZ8HB30kxET-3W9-JtHG89UZ6v8xLw0Jm6To0udj4XSt1Y3hczs04NKUpHTfta2Qfwih-sGC1Ev2IucY/s640/thumbnail_IMG_DF8116329E4A-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="492" data-original-width="640" height="492" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMwkzlv8vlcqtQRuG-sYTMhsOOaPiU9lSMyK6AjxgXlDgszHv7gIzF1488wBy9h0BSo6mXbnc4bl-0UVLTitiGwUqerbJNFouP7i7xVOxwQA8bZ8HB30kxET-3W9-JtHG89UZ6v8xLw0Jm6To0udj4XSt1Y3hczs04NKUpHTfta2Qfwih-sGC1Ev2IucY/w640-h492/thumbnail_IMG_DF8116329E4A-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">John and Michelle gifted us with a delicious anniversary dinner at a wonderful steak house. We started with a complimentary glass of champagne, then an appetizer of roasted bone marrow before having the most delicious steaks. We loved our special gift and are so grateful for their thoughtfulness.</span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy7ZOKrw9XceFRyH7tb9m8Gvg4Z7kCSW16S7fQ4Aqrike87gABECVlbQzzDYYKUmVPRh1ubp_I0Q8KDwH_NsF1xF4SOvaBDPxggQoUiIYqEA-y9TPYOdWyz76ycpsciONb8SeMcvvCtVNfpIOmSqt4X-UG9Ecu6gSYQ2DnLupOhVNIYlGK1Wk4tdYFtgA/s640/thumbnail_IMG_6299.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy7ZOKrw9XceFRyH7tb9m8Gvg4Z7kCSW16S7fQ4Aqrike87gABECVlbQzzDYYKUmVPRh1ubp_I0Q8KDwH_NsF1xF4SOvaBDPxggQoUiIYqEA-y9TPYOdWyz76ycpsciONb8SeMcvvCtVNfpIOmSqt4X-UG9Ecu6gSYQ2DnLupOhVNIYlGK1Wk4tdYFtgA/w640-h480/thumbnail_IMG_6299.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCcHJ7i8jC2fwmKfP3jfHhvavBiJl1zON4p9phCy_E_Yuvw74wehJLber02QlkTnfcNUQCGfJ8zA4A3md_DHott6EU9l--MUCYgMGqoQYHRFLPxZU2ojS-k7YwAQjlCzGgQ5xIex-Xu61uN9z3zCQTPMHIdNmEXwUrRJyN3jQye0Sp-0-Lg1oW-doeC10/s640/thumbnail_IMG_6307.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCcHJ7i8jC2fwmKfP3jfHhvavBiJl1zON4p9phCy_E_Yuvw74wehJLber02QlkTnfcNUQCGfJ8zA4A3md_DHott6EU9l--MUCYgMGqoQYHRFLPxZU2ojS-k7YwAQjlCzGgQ5xIex-Xu61uN9z3zCQTPMHIdNmEXwUrRJyN3jQye0Sp-0-Lg1oW-doeC10/w300-h400/thumbnail_IMG_6307.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik4oh6YDjoTWhNL88EtcixViYyKlhryf_SpdSN3RYFsxD-4P67hFwZR57_Fc2ZjXNcRlgt5zBKAv_14Vt5d3o9nJUKmUOLPvYr2iB178zkE7klf_zk-S7hX2_QwLp5ZPyocRbQ-d7EfRm59pP_oVSarscrKhBEwX1R6kjdNKgUw7h2UtSEf7fXn6dfxkQ/s640/thumbnail_IMG_6309.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="481" data-original-width="640" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik4oh6YDjoTWhNL88EtcixViYyKlhryf_SpdSN3RYFsxD-4P67hFwZR57_Fc2ZjXNcRlgt5zBKAv_14Vt5d3o9nJUKmUOLPvYr2iB178zkE7klf_zk-S7hX2_QwLp5ZPyocRbQ-d7EfRm59pP_oVSarscrKhBEwX1R6kjdNKgUw7h2UtSEf7fXn6dfxkQ/w400-h301/thumbnail_IMG_6309.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjiaTBfxXMV83StRg4_71xSV9mSHxf1tiNCAH5NsB4g2xt3B3Ob0-VPVA-JpC6Hw4O8kxtJcE3TNXZdyabe3aMsL3Zv2l0UXExyWFjBLynyT74BNyod2c9Q73WeCGyLKmW2Hx_6vkLAtFilp10bExGQKV51R_5VemThkN9jQBE_8lD95w-90Zk6Bc8O9Q/s640/thumbnail_IMG_6310.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="481" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjiaTBfxXMV83StRg4_71xSV9mSHxf1tiNCAH5NsB4g2xt3B3Ob0-VPVA-JpC6Hw4O8kxtJcE3TNXZdyabe3aMsL3Zv2l0UXExyWFjBLynyT74BNyod2c9Q73WeCGyLKmW2Hx_6vkLAtFilp10bExGQKV51R_5VemThkN9jQBE_8lD95w-90Zk6Bc8O9Q/w482-h640/thumbnail_IMG_6310.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj231TB6Jpv6n7KwQCzPFAH0K7jd9qJy0ZLN2m2aEQzJ2QwaRtkWZxqIbIBQkh_CMIkHmKG3LrT2Y2ee8NaQU0nYiDGMx43iiLp6qtesmAVpYNBFlKIEqyc9XbYhQduCOkq4wDAHX7mbjdMywSjMQDZ1MDH8iYvz6hRGKg6V4pgm8rZseW9WzAfCfb9y_o/s640/thumbnail_IMG_6311.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="481" data-original-width="640" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj231TB6Jpv6n7KwQCzPFAH0K7jd9qJy0ZLN2m2aEQzJ2QwaRtkWZxqIbIBQkh_CMIkHmKG3LrT2Y2ee8NaQU0nYiDGMx43iiLp6qtesmAVpYNBFlKIEqyc9XbYhQduCOkq4wDAHX7mbjdMywSjMQDZ1MDH8iYvz6hRGKg6V4pgm8rZseW9WzAfCfb9y_o/w640-h482/thumbnail_IMG_6311.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Afterwards we walked around and enjoyed many examples of the extradentary sculptures along the streets.</span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEW_TnTethmAn5LXdBvfFlWeL5VAkpejfblkmkv0rTzJdMYYSHgB_Us6UI-hYsP5D7A2GF_rtyzoxkfxbHTQO2HGwJBM8ZVvRBHDlTBDaLD-OlOSJMKUyuu9bioZ1-h2qV4XjW5ohoQctEZ5Bz_KNnRroWum344i6_5V3OndSiIzD157zPheiPG_Zco18/s640/thumbnail_IMG_6312.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="481" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEW_TnTethmAn5LXdBvfFlWeL5VAkpejfblkmkv0rTzJdMYYSHgB_Us6UI-hYsP5D7A2GF_rtyzoxkfxbHTQO2HGwJBM8ZVvRBHDlTBDaLD-OlOSJMKUyuu9bioZ1-h2qV4XjW5ohoQctEZ5Bz_KNnRroWum344i6_5V3OndSiIzD157zPheiPG_Zco18/w482-h640/thumbnail_IMG_6312.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU8aQjNHn5tJToDfxQSvyeZlAqUASa_SrNTgKSQ96mAmeE_KGtroZfgAhdyd3Hw8qWdtdBaybTRyR-46AjSBwq41kLdiR-FFs-QbJWpt_XdCrszgEsAqc9ee5r6QZUbR29Bdx7WGl4cmn5f6ZSouqIljIFcBMeF349hgN46QcV-88dgD4rdP__dk3zPDw/s640/thumbnail_IMG_6315.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="481" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU8aQjNHn5tJToDfxQSvyeZlAqUASa_SrNTgKSQ96mAmeE_KGtroZfgAhdyd3Hw8qWdtdBaybTRyR-46AjSBwq41kLdiR-FFs-QbJWpt_XdCrszgEsAqc9ee5r6QZUbR29Bdx7WGl4cmn5f6ZSouqIljIFcBMeF349hgN46QcV-88dgD4rdP__dk3zPDw/w482-h640/thumbnail_IMG_6315.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9xFEtv3grDR-PcIuWUb519DCYeHeDNML3W9lEbdSNehdfyFkaxxX8x1JAi6uqOB8FJmlZDqp53pSMGULqU4f0nb59neQJ77CUhkzIjV0U9UF2K_ILkDhfA-Xt_olukCcZs81s2hf6MW8-BdJJviVl-U5fUyF8WQYulh4n3fkZ8MApDi2n5KUglqm0d8E/s640/thumbnail_IMG_6316.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="481" data-original-width="640" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9xFEtv3grDR-PcIuWUb519DCYeHeDNML3W9lEbdSNehdfyFkaxxX8x1JAi6uqOB8FJmlZDqp53pSMGULqU4f0nb59neQJ77CUhkzIjV0U9UF2K_ILkDhfA-Xt_olukCcZs81s2hf6MW8-BdJJviVl-U5fUyF8WQYulh4n3fkZ8MApDi2n5KUglqm0d8E/w640-h482/thumbnail_IMG_6316.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiigSfLCR6afgAGF-LNkgtk8d0aCJhxR9vrDuSWI860lLMjgUdTii3_xC2AUvWR1559-OdGqJCbetL1jOO6RdVXX9jcICyfj2CzXYrFAZqJIHDJVkfZ-DXVTCPyndKc_gqC1ybdcFrM9pB0SiBJuQCWpJ4zLYxjPdrg6QWKBdHlD7zUgM_8h-h1yF0t2j8/s640/thumbnail_IMG_6317.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="481" data-original-width="640" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiigSfLCR6afgAGF-LNkgtk8d0aCJhxR9vrDuSWI860lLMjgUdTii3_xC2AUvWR1559-OdGqJCbetL1jOO6RdVXX9jcICyfj2CzXYrFAZqJIHDJVkfZ-DXVTCPyndKc_gqC1ybdcFrM9pB0SiBJuQCWpJ4zLYxjPdrg6QWKBdHlD7zUgM_8h-h1yF0t2j8/w640-h482/thumbnail_IMG_6317.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiey_54QcnxfZ7MlRxsMsKRglFyVgV2p_3fmiZI0Sxofu-SUNIJaSjG2ox3PhbWdEDcDagOAfXoc069znHm0lr--UugNQINzdEmfsk1Wa4OQIlhgnJVyVoG_EO7gxGgjT11X5UqxtWIRhryQV3lPrmJsuvEzpNehsA0FB72YFLKeMGcdBpYgJv50G8Squ0/s640/thumbnail_IMG_6319.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="481" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiey_54QcnxfZ7MlRxsMsKRglFyVgV2p_3fmiZI0Sxofu-SUNIJaSjG2ox3PhbWdEDcDagOAfXoc069znHm0lr--UugNQINzdEmfsk1Wa4OQIlhgnJVyVoG_EO7gxGgjT11X5UqxtWIRhryQV3lPrmJsuvEzpNehsA0FB72YFLKeMGcdBpYgJv50G8Squ0/w482-h640/thumbnail_IMG_6319.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipTX0Fb9gGBXAeWvbMA0fq5khN4W4hykNv1w01ZOTLLaky-zgi6BR6ehpt4kowcDjSz7BHT3mE4gVcCym6ME6H833eB2k_MFfu49fSgxIXKPHFtH1uOn-VgBKI0WYW06WvL0zwbionExa7iaJbv2yB6hJ24W0yFdncZLIPCQWTd1r8pbC1TG9e72DMFss/s640/thumbnail_IMG_6320.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipTX0Fb9gGBXAeWvbMA0fq5khN4W4hykNv1w01ZOTLLaky-zgi6BR6ehpt4kowcDjSz7BHT3mE4gVcCym6ME6H833eB2k_MFfu49fSgxIXKPHFtH1uOn-VgBKI0WYW06WvL0zwbionExa7iaJbv2yB6hJ24W0yFdncZLIPCQWTd1r8pbC1TG9e72DMFss/w640-h480/thumbnail_IMG_6320.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-ulAsGNwDX7D1yzJeYoak4A0BMtB9HN-xcd7uTDuDkADRA6whLlH_n4eOHWlIygE5nS0jmooZHJvjBUochJcntM2UKAsLeAytvi-NcWWJUdBK9XPhJ60xfJ7rZNecYN9MgOYoavvjRgR8WeFJ0apV0GwDFKZ2lJh39dMVgZzKYJq0xoTTlabUNEbqT8M/s640/thumbnail_IMG_6321.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="481" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-ulAsGNwDX7D1yzJeYoak4A0BMtB9HN-xcd7uTDuDkADRA6whLlH_n4eOHWlIygE5nS0jmooZHJvjBUochJcntM2UKAsLeAytvi-NcWWJUdBK9XPhJ60xfJ7rZNecYN9MgOYoavvjRgR8WeFJ0apV0GwDFKZ2lJh39dMVgZzKYJq0xoTTlabUNEbqT8M/w482-h640/thumbnail_IMG_6321.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">After our long and wonderful day, we did feel much like this fallen Indian - exhausted and in need of some rest.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxGIx8KyjnY4dq772n9qjoo6KCEI56rKluChpGSYgpBAVRh7nQ3uAZwSXMKYTyxwolt8eu1rKh2jY0JdLa27-Bx6UYNckzQVpC8GgqFwAQkkedfBxdgf-V0RIyBBMelZ0uDAEzapc9VRy5lomycE-ya6r4CzfTnNZU28gl2_Uc-RlX_AlEQeAr9ce_G0Y/s640/Clarks%20at%20LaFonda.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="481" data-original-width="640" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxGIx8KyjnY4dq772n9qjoo6KCEI56rKluChpGSYgpBAVRh7nQ3uAZwSXMKYTyxwolt8eu1rKh2jY0JdLa27-Bx6UYNckzQVpC8GgqFwAQkkedfBxdgf-V0RIyBBMelZ0uDAEzapc9VRy5lomycE-ya6r4CzfTnNZU28gl2_Uc-RlX_AlEQeAr9ce_G0Y/w640-h482/Clarks%20at%20LaFonda.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The next morning we met Prestonwood friends, the Clarks for brunch at the Laredo Hotel. They have had a home there for almost 15 years and had sold it just a day before meeting us. We so enjoyed this time with them.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtWK7ba1P4a_9Y_zZyn3KYQkls2R8HiPYPu6-USpxYZK4Hh-Ixs5okKoejSqDBSn2YPIByMS2M-3d0SlZjKzKHtam74o2qB-LJx_OG96nRKM2Lz9cIj4Ao8KvdO0xiV5Umoq-ldGGaiLss_dM_sjPnL4Q4ngCG0WSp-xlM84cpNeOVXzlRPuT4xDn036o/s568/thumbnail_IMG_6332.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="568" data-original-width="481" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtWK7ba1P4a_9Y_zZyn3KYQkls2R8HiPYPu6-USpxYZK4Hh-Ixs5okKoejSqDBSn2YPIByMS2M-3d0SlZjKzKHtam74o2qB-LJx_OG96nRKM2Lz9cIj4Ao8KvdO0xiV5Umoq-ldGGaiLss_dM_sjPnL4Q4ngCG0WSp-xlM84cpNeOVXzlRPuT4xDn036o/w542-h640/thumbnail_IMG_6332.jpg" width="542" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">We then began our walking tour of the town beginning with the Church of St. Francis of Assisi. We had never been inside so decided it was time.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgssZSF_th1_6wtCZZoRVIXW-qQzHntXr5SYscXGHc20S5fUBV1-e5xw7C2gt5VRgS19oxr7p_JzUFpB2WYuP-V9mfsZ58OGFFbaeC1Vg3zsBdF7czP31K9sGO-QWE9ThdHBhKlkrahiqBKrAhAbWA4jNfum_xLUNERtstvQ4981cR4rB7RG_fuuUePsI/s640/thumbnail_IMG_6334.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="481" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgssZSF_th1_6wtCZZoRVIXW-qQzHntXr5SYscXGHc20S5fUBV1-e5xw7C2gt5VRgS19oxr7p_JzUFpB2WYuP-V9mfsZ58OGFFbaeC1Vg3zsBdF7czP31K9sGO-QWE9ThdHBhKlkrahiqBKrAhAbWA4jNfum_xLUNERtstvQ4981cR4rB7RG_fuuUePsI/w482-h640/thumbnail_IMG_6334.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp9K0ByLcLpWdZ3He0DELFkbGCOaRZaA21sp4HZZqqavPgIXqDkEs8_jT2lRCq5RDvvtQbHEYSYVPaU8iKvsYkmSTrGYcOIN0sYTlJPuxmEIdQg1_LTAjFa_Guj0F1eFpLOHlVa6Y5n5ZF04VZiD6isRrG3xTgXfWTBVlKSKJlqceSmNCcj4X3dhSg3XA/s640/thumbnail_IMG_6336.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="481" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp9K0ByLcLpWdZ3He0DELFkbGCOaRZaA21sp4HZZqqavPgIXqDkEs8_jT2lRCq5RDvvtQbHEYSYVPaU8iKvsYkmSTrGYcOIN0sYTlJPuxmEIdQg1_LTAjFa_Guj0F1eFpLOHlVa6Y5n5ZF04VZiD6isRrG3xTgXfWTBVlKSKJlqceSmNCcj4X3dhSg3XA/w482-h640/thumbnail_IMG_6336.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">It is beautiful and we were so glad we finally took the time to visit. It had a baptismal pool for anyone wanting to be emersed.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisE8Y_yNTua_r7xA9ZbZdbS2ba7tFVcTODV8jzTxq2dQsZ8jNfzORcG-XXacQ_1LRFdaueFXbrxh1ZzyNZBHMUjhxUo0go2zM83Fmi1GDxIlxWpKWTM7xw6tMoPB5Xz4rPt2OGrNniKU9qWl_3tJCUz64EmKuQWHJKbwpnf_K3GtWharHbRymNdosps5M/s640/thumbnail_IMG_6347.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="481" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisE8Y_yNTua_r7xA9ZbZdbS2ba7tFVcTODV8jzTxq2dQsZ8jNfzORcG-XXacQ_1LRFdaueFXbrxh1ZzyNZBHMUjhxUo0go2zM83Fmi1GDxIlxWpKWTM7xw6tMoPB5Xz4rPt2OGrNniKU9qWl_3tJCUz64EmKuQWHJKbwpnf_K3GtWharHbRymNdosps5M/w482-h640/thumbnail_IMG_6347.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">There were not nearly as many Indian vendors in front of the Governor's Palace as there used to be.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0I3rOuIxbMUR1cUSSKbmj-rvfwVnZeLdiNgX0zw1hIYikfpFGMAnY3_l54G9deHmy6gqXSZzahwBfE4Td8ynOF5N1sdE__4tBIqKGFv1bxAaJ_TPozDPlW84nTCbJFG-mVwKPPNAPTRKhW4hQoG4CVln3euex_aLtSRF1xGJrVCOurYzRPVsPZ1xWkQY/s640/thumbnail_IMG_6348.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="481" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0I3rOuIxbMUR1cUSSKbmj-rvfwVnZeLdiNgX0zw1hIYikfpFGMAnY3_l54G9deHmy6gqXSZzahwBfE4Td8ynOF5N1sdE__4tBIqKGFv1bxAaJ_TPozDPlW84nTCbJFG-mVwKPPNAPTRKhW4hQoG4CVln3euex_aLtSRF1xGJrVCOurYzRPVsPZ1xWkQY/w482-h640/thumbnail_IMG_6348.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIoXPoJWOHNqIzs8tFp_toXgG9G1OsYBmbkGY0ODpzHudELUh5X2x2gzAOPp7h7qnMfjS9X5VoYUlNeum3BnKj1potn81o4Qr6qwLVHWxBsGyrFRyq6AOU8kqTrV_SM32DBpMAvNEHpd4Zl7yKm0SCBQeYqfO1FnCZJgFtgnmHOIonWthDmOxnYIoeNzg/s640/thumbnail_IMG_6383.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="481" data-original-width="640" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIoXPoJWOHNqIzs8tFp_toXgG9G1OsYBmbkGY0ODpzHudELUh5X2x2gzAOPp7h7qnMfjS9X5VoYUlNeum3BnKj1potn81o4Qr6qwLVHWxBsGyrFRyq6AOU8kqTrV_SM32DBpMAvNEHpd4Zl7yKm0SCBQeYqfO1FnCZJgFtgnmHOIonWthDmOxnYIoeNzg/w640-h482/thumbnail_IMG_6383.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">We saw the State Capital Building which was not far from our hotel before visiting the Poteet Victory Art Gallery.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6HdPPy_Yy4PPFWQ3gno3I1fHZpTzhXPMvqNEA8YkDVmhsH1ksdOmsALAWBmicKDf74paHS75VZJR2RWHivs4HSllaJ2B129D9QdIY5gjqILRlLte_z3cpziZg_e0ybdcskDPUckb6KjRsg4bvOtyO-mZuixlAh-SX0sHbZogcCMofyTQkL2zeGhz9fa4/s481/V_IMG_6388.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="479" data-original-width="481" height="638" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6HdPPy_Yy4PPFWQ3gno3I1fHZpTzhXPMvqNEA8YkDVmhsH1ksdOmsALAWBmicKDf74paHS75VZJR2RWHivs4HSllaJ2B129D9QdIY5gjqILRlLte_z3cpziZg_e0ybdcskDPUckb6KjRsg4bvOtyO-mZuixlAh-SX0sHbZogcCMofyTQkL2zeGhz9fa4/w640-h638/V_IMG_6388.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div>My hairdresser, Kent James had been telling me about his father's best friend who is an artist in Santa Fe. I knew when we visited this would definitely be a stop.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMlOtyzzHUAtWBOTPVscObBxfb9FhKXzLfuFl7eUJdPzTvgE4XWRDCBkjIGK-akJMNjU-xLV7ZpGnV5HU7kYnxnrQ_sdd7j77Z7WDdDa-F4J2J_OGUK5um_gH_fKGtwXqoDYCvNbRRSVtUWUtAQMuKX4OPT9gMQ6oLfKP0Xguqg2ixbWyu2Spy9GRTHFU/s640/V_IMG_6356.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="481" data-original-width="640" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMlOtyzzHUAtWBOTPVscObBxfb9FhKXzLfuFl7eUJdPzTvgE4XWRDCBkjIGK-akJMNjU-xLV7ZpGnV5HU7kYnxnrQ_sdd7j77Z7WDdDa-F4J2J_OGUK5um_gH_fKGtwXqoDYCvNbRRSVtUWUtAQMuKX4OPT9gMQ6oLfKP0Xguqg2ixbWyu2Spy9GRTHFU/w640-h482/V_IMG_6356.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">While I looked around, Dick had the best visit with Poteet's wife. She is the most friendly and down-to-earth person you could ever meet. It was a delightful time.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1hU7W8Jns1GC27pLrbCkQV-zIt7Er39ZDT-pLIxyBXMBTpKKd4VtzfkDzZU64OoSxiP9KX9_PVXInPEqEl72iXhtbOlEZbO1GdlI8dLtFUdNqgnuPYFBBFsAQJSvpq_RIuDmfnxN4cTnucWP_I7XWUfeEHzLgku8bZcJpOi-paB32iGl17eEubiWrfEg/s640/thumbnail_IMG_6759.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="481" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1hU7W8Jns1GC27pLrbCkQV-zIt7Er39ZDT-pLIxyBXMBTpKKd4VtzfkDzZU64OoSxiP9KX9_PVXInPEqEl72iXhtbOlEZbO1GdlI8dLtFUdNqgnuPYFBBFsAQJSvpq_RIuDmfnxN4cTnucWP_I7XWUfeEHzLgku8bZcJpOi-paB32iGl17eEubiWrfEg/w482-h640/thumbnail_IMG_6759.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXTAKuBbVBHz5o_ptKDl-xW2vtndqHkisudByCotBLYd-qD3ktx-atDi7V4gfjGKkh5PaczUbGdU0yqC653YGimA_p6jmABLaFTm1C3YycFwhnOLVsA381XkVn6hNNl57tfOgHYAmgLbWVKBXGabgrLre_V0A7sxVFQ9itoOdx5iX3WJ5OrdtvK3PvtWM/s640/V_IMG_6368.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="481" data-original-width="640" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXTAKuBbVBHz5o_ptKDl-xW2vtndqHkisudByCotBLYd-qD3ktx-atDi7V4gfjGKkh5PaczUbGdU0yqC653YGimA_p6jmABLaFTm1C3YycFwhnOLVsA381XkVn6hNNl57tfOgHYAmgLbWVKBXGabgrLre_V0A7sxVFQ9itoOdx5iX3WJ5OrdtvK3PvtWM/w640-h482/V_IMG_6368.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn8TZh3a-JEwjtG46-PUW3MHKawtMsRLQSAKHzDiIh5fxfe96f9PcG5jVCjrmHa2g-6fFm7F_thLRI0sbfI-uAgB-K-Sn6kR0upbAiz91mWuKBSrDUP_1EW8EOqCLpOFago4gNCHuBv5pkczQXDieCiwkRwNhQm49H1eIr-nPLZLnEUjSLdojXR1b0UI4/s640/V_IMG_6366.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn8TZh3a-JEwjtG46-PUW3MHKawtMsRLQSAKHzDiIh5fxfe96f9PcG5jVCjrmHa2g-6fFm7F_thLRI0sbfI-uAgB-K-Sn6kR0upbAiz91mWuKBSrDUP_1EW8EOqCLpOFago4gNCHuBv5pkczQXDieCiwkRwNhQm49H1eIr-nPLZLnEUjSLdojXR1b0UI4/w480-h640/V_IMG_6366.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtKUSzfjZjVFE6ujc1YavXl4P8GmAC2JygchASgGo1511wCa_0njA_g2ZRwlpqhAgmbrYqyPaHd6yMeRnaJVYlsH79315ANkmOFDCLDbUiGNEuyfL29OspIrlHMfD3-5uVuHwucOi9LL9hwqCSuJ0Jscg0BciV7yoOo5KRzZcwK7I4Bgp3ZxubdTHEqdw/s640/V_IMG_6384.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtKUSzfjZjVFE6ujc1YavXl4P8GmAC2JygchASgGo1511wCa_0njA_g2ZRwlpqhAgmbrYqyPaHd6yMeRnaJVYlsH79315ANkmOFDCLDbUiGNEuyfL29OspIrlHMfD3-5uVuHwucOi9LL9hwqCSuJ0Jscg0BciV7yoOo5KRzZcwK7I4Bgp3ZxubdTHEqdw/w480-h640/V_IMG_6384.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">And this is the artist himself. Such a high point of our stay in Santa Fe.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1h90Jf2cIknoBcbEMzEIZcZo5a8W36wpcKxp1ofECnf-8a8SmcnFt2-rY0vy0tXrgggW_xuLTS1U-X-WFpcoyp-aB3xQorGLPtFe2LxHGvu4MS96c5MTj5C565GIqqhLFbrh8-U3hu76BXxsFCkOiAZpLExdX_0eymmtPXQw-zUyDNg8Se1Q9TqaDMe8/s640/thumbnail_IMG_6393.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="481" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1h90Jf2cIknoBcbEMzEIZcZo5a8W36wpcKxp1ofECnf-8a8SmcnFt2-rY0vy0tXrgggW_xuLTS1U-X-WFpcoyp-aB3xQorGLPtFe2LxHGvu4MS96c5MTj5C565GIqqhLFbrh8-U3hu76BXxsFCkOiAZpLExdX_0eymmtPXQw-zUyDNg8Se1Q9TqaDMe8/w482-h640/thumbnail_IMG_6393.jpg" width="482" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We ended our memorable day and stay in Santa Fe with a snack and the most delicious shake in this outdoor cafe right on the Plaza. We could not have celebrated our special day, and relived memories in a better way. Tomorrow we go to Moab, Utah.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="85" data-original-width="140" height="86" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjThkQ3geDj5iiveEGhDZ3n47usipcfUCv-dmw2DzQc57m6OOVwo2yxw2eHTWMRu1wMAb71C3-G78BpKffGICXAqUIfhCp-zSPkX0yo6loKam-a6TFHFYcnXl54sMxVnlliUqhpQkgt49E/s1600/libby+sig+140.png" width="140" /></a></div>Elizabeth "Libby" Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17145264016754286426noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689804938550827918.post-74366019389659148222023-10-04T16:45:00.001-05:002023-10-04T16:45:42.131-05:00May Family Florida Beach Trip<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">For some now unknown reason, I never published about our April 29 - May 6, 2023 Family Florida Beach Trip. Although I posted daily on Facebook what we had done each day with accompanying pictures to prove it, I never compiled it for my blog book. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">So, here goes a very belated record of our amazing week with our amazing family.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px; text-align: start; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxVw9BSnp2PuzDnzf7atQyXKX38i5HHAf-oIaH2uOpoVtgMDMFLsaqf7kYCyEmUgvWAypnfBdBFduTHHjmB75jCpqiGP04ByP1H-Ux9xdLCcUv4EZ18jl5lnw823jizLB68xGx1JKia5GpNqLkUG0YZfDpU6HzfhhAMU1IjIosIcS8FESYQfNmKFwX13A/s1600/Arrival%20Day%20Collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxVw9BSnp2PuzDnzf7atQyXKX38i5HHAf-oIaH2uOpoVtgMDMFLsaqf7kYCyEmUgvWAypnfBdBFduTHHjmB75jCpqiGP04ByP1H-Ux9xdLCcUv4EZ18jl5lnw823jizLB68xGx1JKia5GpNqLkUG0YZfDpU6HzfhhAMU1IjIosIcS8FESYQfNmKFwX13A/w640-h480/Arrival%20Day%20Collage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>April 29: First evening at the beach with the family. We are looking so forward to spending this week with our kids, grands and greats.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px; text-align: start; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiUbwJpikJoVIjOUk1D3PoO1dqnz6V06FrdO1U5T2e_9yuMbU2paYRphYsKSC_0HHeaFu5Qu_D0PO-aB5UrAMnXStvkjbjDO0s88ygK8cmHZUJnHmLuF27qqe_cj2HZBzCnq41HOwWrlQuf9heMLCabtSVtrgSHY15kie5UcqXNXDJQi6UaJXOS2OP-ds/s1600/Collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiUbwJpikJoVIjOUk1D3PoO1dqnz6V06FrdO1U5T2e_9yuMbU2paYRphYsKSC_0HHeaFu5Qu_D0PO-aB5UrAMnXStvkjbjDO0s88ygK8cmHZUJnHmLuF27qqe_cj2HZBzCnq41HOwWrlQuf9heMLCabtSVtrgSHY15kie5UcqXNXDJQi6UaJXOS2OP-ds/w640-h480/Collage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px; text-align: start; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Our first full beach day began with Brad, Jackson and Michelle preparing a delicious mid-morning breakfast before we all headed to the beach. It was 57 degrees and wind was 20 mph so it wasn’t a perfect beach time, but fun nevertheless. After naps, snacks, reading, starting a 1000 piece puzzle, making a coffee and cornhole run, we later went out for a fun dinner and another late night together.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px; text-align: start; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN7YJQxZg65Sp3pbvWpiUeMZVwM3hQtZWJUsaTUGVc1XaUBBlThO2k1QgMixCdNajJBSjxxN6Ewg0SGLsiNMV7c1yqdKuvINhBECapEYqO1OU7wF2SUL4p0ftHRGwgryMUqt3C3OJKRg1DYO83rwuPyeqjmmMxCyT73yIhyOPyOmFHX05GpQFx_YCNDlI/s1600/Collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN7YJQxZg65Sp3pbvWpiUeMZVwM3hQtZWJUsaTUGVc1XaUBBlThO2k1QgMixCdNajJBSjxxN6Ewg0SGLsiNMV7c1yqdKuvINhBECapEYqO1OU7wF2SUL4p0ftHRGwgryMUqt3C3OJKRg1DYO83rwuPyeqjmmMxCyT73yIhyOPyOmFHX05GpQFx_YCNDlI/w640-h480/Collage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px; text-align: start; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Day 3 @ the Beach the </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">morning was perfect for spending time in the sand. Dick and I did our routine walk before joining the family in our Day nest. </span></div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px; text-align: start; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px; text-align: start; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Jax still is not sold on the sand but Landon wore himself out and did his own nesting in Mommy’s lap for an hour. </span></div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px; text-align: start; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px; text-align: start; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Savannah, ever the domestic princess prepared blueberry muffins, bacon and cheese grits for a <a style="color: #385898; cursor: pointer;" tabindex="-1"></a>brunch in the sun.</span></div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px; text-align: start; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px; text-align: start; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We saw neighbor fishermen catch a baby shark which was exciting.</span></div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px; text-align: start; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px; text-align: center; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVbHutxoJhf7680FEtYB1oTeLpjXK-eKQoV9172NdoCabJa316nHrHKKUGDiEGVsNQNyA8ClcCHB8TITGzowL8Dj7LTrLG1Vpe6KRnvA14U_-h0qBYwV6cQD2mydIVtiuTtxV1HLMEBVj9UAtNYeiF6v-kduA-bGRzxjQF9rLX0csFWFbRc0uFEQRxBe4/s2048/10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVbHutxoJhf7680FEtYB1oTeLpjXK-eKQoV9172NdoCabJa316nHrHKKUGDiEGVsNQNyA8ClcCHB8TITGzowL8Dj7LTrLG1Vpe6KRnvA14U_-h0qBYwV6cQD2mydIVtiuTtxV1HLMEBVj9UAtNYeiF6v-kduA-bGRzxjQF9rLX0csFWFbRc0uFEQRxBe4/w640-h480/10.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px; text-align: start; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">In the evening we divided, with the 2 sisters dressing up and dining together; the two grandparent couples walked to The Perfect Pig Grill and got back in time to babysit and put babies to bed so their parents could have a delightful evening alone before Brad had to return to Dallas.</span></div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px; text-align: start; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px; text-align: center; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIsy0axl1MIHMVDcNAGUHsGc-MIzqom3WkdiS9X7Oa3d8n8huDdtJrBzi8JeHWPRrx_YGjy-P5ToiRyi22sBvcHO09HdGYsHpXfP7JvmUhAX4emyM5Wmy2zpV80DcaPfBJE8iWe6d-bJIaN6wxUrUwPWdq04oepgmgExeWXVDxDbudPSYLvChtlvH6dxM/s1600/Collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIsy0axl1MIHMVDcNAGUHsGc-MIzqom3WkdiS9X7Oa3d8n8huDdtJrBzi8JeHWPRrx_YGjy-P5ToiRyi22sBvcHO09HdGYsHpXfP7JvmUhAX4emyM5Wmy2zpV80DcaPfBJE8iWe6d-bJIaN6wxUrUwPWdq04oepgmgExeWXVDxDbudPSYLvChtlvH6dxM/w640-h480/Collage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px; text-align: start; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><div class="xdj266r x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs x126k92a" style="margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Our Day 4 Beach Trip started early when Brad learned at 3:30 a.m. that his 3:30 a.m. driver to the airport had cancelled. God had me & Dick awake so we were able to drive him to Panama City in time for his 6 a.m. flight back to Dallas.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The majority of the day was spent on the beach. Both boys decided the cool water and sand could be fun after all. </span></div><div dir="auto"><br /></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The <a style="color: #385898; cursor: pointer;" tabindex="-1"></a>evening was spent on a different beach for professional Day Family pictures and a gorgeous sunset. You will find them at the end of this post.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUXo4dr6vnpMsPYQhwTLuLDXQHtsw9u40VxS1WaDwCqRnh7Y_vCCoexmCgTYAWxbL2KLR_cMXtgZpSxKmjF1525WC-t-567YQseYXT1bb9CwwEVfTEOskUjaCRvZTDqsUwfVGaA0T7ywOhRbN985rsE2x3lW_o6ccxNd5R8aDEOFTsf-Uz801ID1H58FE/s1600/Collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUXo4dr6vnpMsPYQhwTLuLDXQHtsw9u40VxS1WaDwCqRnh7Y_vCCoexmCgTYAWxbL2KLR_cMXtgZpSxKmjF1525WC-t-567YQseYXT1bb9CwwEVfTEOskUjaCRvZTDqsUwfVGaA0T7ywOhRbN985rsE2x3lW_o6ccxNd5R8aDEOFTsf-Uz801ID1H58FE/w640-h480/Collage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div dir="auto"><div class="xdj266r x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs x126k92a" style="margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The final 2 Beach Days were rather slow and relaxing. The girls went shopping, ate the best delivered pizza, shopped some more and ate leftover pizza. Thursday night the Day family had a special night out for Mother’s Day and birthdays while we had an evening with Chandler and Landon. Friday, the girls went to Rosemary Beach and the boys saw a movie. Then we all celebrated with Mexican food brought in while gathering all our belongings into 4 different vehicles for an early morning <a style="color: #385898; cursor: pointer;" tabindex="-1"></a>departure.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiihrPBKZOez0wQaWxaLv3XUFNP2VT3lWsgFSqdNNd1VPBqDT5Gu28TkvQM1lxo-9r03D2IM9EQlehdN3-DBPIRssEodQQMWgtOSGeUM0dq8mN6qBPY3-DAGUj6Fbp3es17T_BQC3HTVxmZYR5iSLsVbHy-QffBpbag7Oy1aeGyJfW70AjPUzF8y6969s4/s1600/Collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiihrPBKZOez0wQaWxaLv3XUFNP2VT3lWsgFSqdNNd1VPBqDT5Gu28TkvQM1lxo-9r03D2IM9EQlehdN3-DBPIRssEodQQMWgtOSGeUM0dq8mN6qBPY3-DAGUj6Fbp3es17T_BQC3HTVxmZYR5iSLsVbHy-QffBpbag7Oy1aeGyJfW70AjPUzF8y6969s4/w640-h480/Collage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">This truly has been a blessed time together with our family, for which we will forever be grateful.</span></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Our group reluctantly parted ways this morning leaving nothing undone, nothing unsaid, and love unshared. Until next time!</span></div></div></div></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="85" data-original-width="140" height="86" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjThkQ3geDj5iiveEGhDZ3n47usipcfUCv-dmw2DzQc57m6OOVwo2yxw2eHTWMRu1wMAb71C3-G78BpKffGICXAqUIfhCp-zSPkX0yo6loKam-a6TFHFYcnXl54sMxVnlliUqhpQkgt49E/s1600/libby+sig+140.png" width="140" /></a></div>Elizabeth "Libby" Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17145264016754286426noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689804938550827918.post-45400201033347660832023-08-28T05:30:00.247-05:002023-08-28T10:09:44.842-05:00Calvary Baptist Church History Part 10<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFtow4q7Sle-o-3EsK2nIaceleW8oOexL3xOS1qOQePqf71LQ2scMNdfamzGXxYZ0AkfKvh3_fn2A9efPpgol1s9qnHBa2RcBPtVsYJlmyc_bNY6CglcYAa6sAdGqOQHPEi09Ajbe2nTgeHkHJE-tAD_ybnSGKlClaDwEn6VLwsX3UE5hWNEl9XVlF/s800/Photo478286.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="532" data-original-width="800" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFtow4q7Sle-o-3EsK2nIaceleW8oOexL3xOS1qOQePqf71LQ2scMNdfamzGXxYZ0AkfKvh3_fn2A9efPpgol1s9qnHBa2RcBPtVsYJlmyc_bNY6CglcYAa6sAdGqOQHPEi09Ajbe2nTgeHkHJE-tAD_ybnSGKlClaDwEn6VLwsX3UE5hWNEl9XVlF/w640-h426/Photo478286.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The Calvary Baptist Church in Bayou Chicot has the distinguished title as the "<b>O</b><i><b>ldest Baptist Church <u>still in existence</u> West of the Mississippi River</b></i>."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">In 1806, the Chicot Methodist Church was established, and it is likely it was the first non-Catholic congregation in that area. It is still in existence as well. The original two churches were about 300 yards apart when we moved there in 1949, but the Methodists moved to another location and built a new building that still stands and holds Sunday services.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioc-DDPhP1QO-DHvi2iqeUTzrkfD2xH5ZOe7mo9LI1kjBR5qcAf-W-WRLhJ7gvfxo8w1EG-ef3n_dvXOiXLWV01CDKeF1vVkujoXSv8Bbomd3ntzacw9YCoac72uPqU3xRgsGiy51mA4tkzlOX08HdpHXu-4jVCqk9puDJ8w4hMJ-JQ-Po7eAmdKjBfpE/s200/al_bayouchicot_s_2umjvxiy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="135" data-original-width="200" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioc-DDPhP1QO-DHvi2iqeUTzrkfD2xH5ZOe7mo9LI1kjBR5qcAf-W-WRLhJ7gvfxo8w1EG-ef3n_dvXOiXLWV01CDKeF1vVkujoXSv8Bbomd3ntzacw9YCoac72uPqU3xRgsGiy51mA4tkzlOX08HdpHXu-4jVCqk9puDJ8w4hMJ-JQ-Po7eAmdKjBfpE/w400-h270/al_bayouchicot_s_2umjvxiy.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">We need to ask, with everything else that was built and established so many years ago and now gone, why are these two churches the only things that remain?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I think the answer can be found by going back to the very beginning. To do that, I have drawn information from several sources. Miss Mable Thompson gave a very concise history of both churches in her book, "<i><u>Looking Back.</u>"</i> I have also found information from various newspaper articles, the Baptist Message archives, and books on the history of Baptists in Louisiana. The most comprehensive and interesting source though happens to be Randy Willis, the 5th generation grandson of the actual founder of Calvary Baptist Church, Joseph Willis.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Randy Willis has been collecting and publishing the history of his 4th great grandfather for over 40 years. After seeing articles and references written by him, I bought one of his books. I then contacted him regarding a newspaper article and he began sharing with me personal information regarding his relationship with Calvary Baptist Church. He in fact, met and visited with my dad while he was in his last pastorate there.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">It is mostly from Randy's compilations that I glean the following information about Joseph Willis.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">His story actually begins long before Joseph was born. In the 1740's Joseph's father and his family of four boys and a daughter lived in the Chesapeake Bay area of Virginia. If this sounds familiar, it is where the pilgrims first settled. In the early 1750's he moved his family to New Hanover, North Carolina.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">It was here that Joseph's father, Agerton first bought property and became a very wealthy landowner, along with his brothers. And it was on this plantation that Joseph was born to <span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;">a half Cherokee slave girl.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;">In his book, </span><span style="color: #0f1111;">"</span><i style="color: #0f1111; text-decoration-line: underline;">Twice a Slave</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;">", Randy tells in novel form how this might have come about. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;">Being the romantic that I am, his version of Ahyoka being rescued and bought by Agerton Willis and taken to his plantation home where they fell in love, is exactly as I imagine this story beginning.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;">This meant Joseph was born into slavery. In those days, anyone of mixed blood was called a "mulatto." Being born to a slave Indian girl meant that Joseph was also considered a slave. Even though he and his mother lived in the big house, he had no legal standing.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0f1111;"><span style="background-color: white;">When he was a young boy, Joseph's mother, </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;">Ahyoka</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;"> died, and his father when he was a teenager. Prior to his death, Agerton wrote in his will that his son would inherit all his property and holdings, and when he became 21 would be emancipated. However, Agerton's oldest brother, Daniel, executor of the will, refused to recognize the will and only allowed Joseph to retain a small portion of the land and the house. However, he refused to free him and made him live in the slave cabins and work the land as a slave.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0f1111;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">Having been forced to live with rejection by his father's family, Joseph dealt with a sense of not belonging anywhere, other than his father's home. As a young man, wanting to fight as Patriots against the British, Joseph and his friend Ezekiel left North Carolina and <span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;">fought in the Revolutionary War under General Francis Marion, The Swamp Fox. It was during this time that he became very good friends with two families living in the Pee Dee River swamp region in South Carolina, the Braveboys and the Richard Curtis family who would later play a significant role in assisting Joseph's early ministry.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;">There was also a young lady living in Pee Dee River region, who would later play into Joseph Willis's story (and ours) by the name of Fanny Taylor. She had a daughter, Delaney and lived with Gilbert Sweat, unmarried.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;">At some point after the war Joseph returned to his home and met Rachel who became his wife. They had three children; Rachel died giving birth to the third.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;">Prior to Rachel's death, General John Willis, a Congressman from North Carolina and Joseph's first cousin by his Uncle Daniel, had Joseph declared a free man.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;">He later married Sarah and not much is known about her except she was of Irish background and gave birth to two of his children. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;">His friend, Richard Curtis had moved to Natchez, Mississippi to preach the Gospel and it was he who encouraged and helped make it possible for Joseph to cross the mighty Mississippi and enter the unknown dangers of this wild, untamed Louisiana Territory in </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;">1798</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;">. It was under Spanish rule at that time. and no other Protestant preacher had ever dared to do what Joseph knew the Lord had called him to do.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;">In time, Joseph Willis found his way to Bayou Chicot. It was on this initial visit that he met others like himself of mixed blood, Indians, Spanish, English, slaves, and Catholics. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;">When Joseph entered the Louisiana territory, he fell under the dreaded Code Noir, the "Black Code." Preaching the Gospel violated this decree's prohibitions against all religions except Catholicism. This did not stop Joseph Willis as he ventured into these regions to </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;">preach the first Gospel sermon by an Evangelical west of the Mississippi River.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;">I love what Randy included in his novel about a conversation Joseph and Sarah might have had after his return.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;">"<i>Do you think God would use an old Indian slave to bring revival to a foreign country</i>? Sarah's reply was, "<i>This isn't about us. Louisiana isn't about us. What we're about to experience is much bigger than being Indian or Irish. This is about God's kingdom.</i>"</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;"><b>And this is why two churches still stand to this day over 200 years later. It was never about Joseph Willis or Porter Lazenby, but all about God bringing lost people to a saving knowledge of Him and growing His kingdom.</b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;">It is believed that shortly after this trip, Joseph's wife Sarah died of an unknown cause. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;">Losing two wives within six years was very difficult for Joseph, but it didn't keep him from the desire to fulfill the dream God had given him years earlier and that he had shared with both wives. That was to preach the gospel in what would later be Louisiana and specifically Bayou Chicot.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0f1111;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="color: black;"><span style="color: #0f1111;"><span>A few years later he married Hannah and they added more children to the Willis family. Hannah also shared Joseph's calling to the people of the Louisiana Territory. Together with all their children, they made the long, arduous and dangerous journey into the Louisiana territory and to Bayou Chicot as early as 1802 where they purchased land. </span></span>A line in his obituary reads, "<i>The Gospel was proclaimed by him in these regions before the American flag was hoisted here</i>," meaning before April 30, 1803.</div><div style="color: black;"><span style="color: #0f1111;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div style="color: black;"><span style="color: #0f1111;"><span>An interesting personal side note here is that the Willis family built their first home near Bayou Cocodrie, which is where our dad later built his fishing cabin. (See Part 5 of our Lazenby Story) Joseph faced his own ostracism there, but so did Porter Lazenby years later.</span></span></div><div style="color: black;"><span style="color: #0f1111;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div style="color: black;"><span style="background-color: transparent;">Chicot was becoming a thriving trade community by this time and other English-speaking people had begun to settle there. Among those who followed Joseph were his friends from the Pee Dee Region of South Carolina, </span>Gilbert and <span style="background-color: transparent;">Fanny Taylor Sweat, Fanny's daughter Delaney and her husband, John Bass, also "a free man of color". They would play a pivotal role in establishing churches in that area.</span></div><div style="color: black;"><span style="background-color: transparent;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: transparent;">Joseph Willis, along with his friends met as a group of believers but were unable to establish a church in Bayou Chicot because of existing prejudice by his own denomination in Natchez, Mississippi, that prevented his being ordained as a Baptist pastor.</span></div><div><span style="background-color: transparent;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: transparent;">Three messengers from the Mississippi church traveled to Chicot and officially ordained the pastor, who immediately and officially constituted the Calvary Baptist Church in Bayou Chicot on November 13, 1812 with six members including the Sweats and Basses.</span></div><div><span style="background-color: transparent;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: transparent;"><div><span style="background-color: transparent;"><span style="color: #0f1111;">The original Calvary Baptist Church building was built on land donated by Gilbert and Fanny Sweat. Delaney and John Bass helped organize another of the churches, perhaps in the Cheneyville area.</span></span></div><div><br /></div></span></div><div><span style="background-color: transparent;">There is an interesting line in Miss Mable's book that tells us that a Delaney Bass at some point married Greene Whittington and had seven children, one of whom is a direct ancestor of my brother-in-law, and Gingie's husband, Thomas Whittington. This Delaney Bass Whittington is the granddaughter of Gilbert and Fanny Sweat who followed Joseph Willis from South Carolina.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: transparent;">Some historians recognize Joseph Willis as "the father of the Baptist religion in Louisiana" for having planted this, the first Baptist Church west of the Mississippi River. </span><span style="background-color: transparent;">Louisiana had barely been a state seven months and was in turmoil when this church was founded.</span></div><div><span style="background-color: transparent;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: transparent;">There was more turmoil on the horizon that also affected this part of the country. Great Britain did not consider the Louisiana Purchase legally valid, and Congress had declared war on Great Britain about five months earlier to start the War of 1812. </span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: transparent;">Ezekiel O'Quinn, Joseph's long-time childhood friend would later follow Joseph to Louisiana as the second Baptist minister west of the Mississippi River. He was the first pastor of one of the churches Joseph started, Beulah Baptist Church in Cheneyville.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: transparent;"><div><span style="color: #0f1111;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfOjLkydWD-9uc5mlHCU75k-IXRXBi0rknOH8APR0yMbPl_QjmFTmYEL6-M2n2X44kd2R7Dtj5a5EQFs21Mimxe4L1gnk10KIUGRy0KQ_P8Dd3HOx0SIBc6hppcuZYDHZHypQd9-xMooRqAHD8SrQvdlAukWLTUDyQsrwGrGcXXYB5tlVb26dJ7dDM1AU/s480/Calvary%201st.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="429" data-original-width="480" height="572" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfOjLkydWD-9uc5mlHCU75k-IXRXBi0rknOH8APR0yMbPl_QjmFTmYEL6-M2n2X44kd2R7Dtj5a5EQFs21Mimxe4L1gnk10KIUGRy0KQ_P8Dd3HOx0SIBc6hppcuZYDHZHypQd9-xMooRqAHD8SrQvdlAukWLTUDyQsrwGrGcXXYB5tlVb26dJ7dDM1AU/w640-h572/Calvary%201st.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="color: #0f1111;"><br /></span></div>In 1845 Thomas Keller donated one acre of land for a new building. It is on this same plot of land that the current church stands.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_vm2NMJhXD7kYl1lUx-BkDaF-saGJvWA8mEGHsmqImCHf9brWeoKMWSJYJ1lDxPPrwZkL5Btt9VM8GHU2IC84JSy5y8hXjRS8Z-8spPYd89tZXI8t1b_w9s7olMKjtG_ILgzzpxWWTBr_Mv0rlDr-0tkRI4XCsXpptUwBs3Jt7ueXCqj7SYfH2o18vwI/s2441/Chicot_Calvary_Baptist_Old_Church___1845_46___The_Ville_Platte_Gazette___Dec_29__1917_pg_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2441" data-original-width="699" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_vm2NMJhXD7kYl1lUx-BkDaF-saGJvWA8mEGHsmqImCHf9brWeoKMWSJYJ1lDxPPrwZkL5Btt9VM8GHU2IC84JSy5y8hXjRS8Z-8spPYd89tZXI8t1b_w9s7olMKjtG_ILgzzpxWWTBr_Mv0rlDr-0tkRI4XCsXpptUwBs3Jt7ueXCqj7SYfH2o18vwI/w183-h640/Chicot_Calvary_Baptist_Old_Church___1845_46___The_Ville_Platte_Gazette___Dec_29__1917_pg_1.jpg" width="183" /></a></div></div></span></div><div><span style="background-color: transparent;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: transparent;">On October 31, 1818, O'Quinn, Joseph Willis and others who had followed Willis to this land, created the Louisiana Association of Baptist Churches at Beulah Baptist Church in Cheney</span>ville<span style="background-color: transparent;">, made up of five churches founded by Willis. It is believed Willis was elected as moderator. </span>It was out of this organization that the Louisiana Baptist Convention was later established in 1848.</div><div><span style="background-color: transparent;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: transparent;">When our father, Porter Lazenby, many years later was serving on this associational board, they continued to meet at Beulah Baptist Church. Don't you just love history!</span></div><div><span style="background-color: transparent;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: transparent;">Joseph Willis pastored the Calvary Baptist Church for at least 34 years and went on to plant twenty churches in Louisiana.</span></div><div><span style="background-color: transparent;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: transparent;">Joseph Willis was not content to stay only in Bayou Chicot but knew the Lord was leading him to venture into more dangerous and unknown territory known then as "No Man's Land" along the Louisiana and Texas border. It was known at that time as the most horrible, dangerous place and a completely lawless land. It was not Spanish or American but a territory where outlaws lived and ruled. It was to this land that mixed people groups made up of Blacks, Creoles, and Indians lived. Choctaw Indians living in Bayou Chicot escaped to this land rather than be sent to Oklahoma. The people came to be called "Redbones."</span></div><div><span style="background-color: transparent;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: transparent;">While serving as pastor of the Calvary Baptist Church and also founding numerous churches and congregations in the south-central part of the state, Willis made frequent trips to this neutral zone to the west. Oddly, he found people just like himself there, mixed blood, and yes outlaws like Jim Bowie, famous for his knife as well as fighting to defend the Alamo. He was a slave trader and later a neighbor of Joseph Willis.</span></div><div><span style="background-color: transparent;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: transparent;">Again, let me quote something from Randy Willis's book that could very well express what Joseph might have felt:</span></div><div><span style="background-color: transparent;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: transparent;"><i>"There are runaway slaves there. I was a runaway slave. I know how they feel. That's when I met Jesus. There are Indians who live there. I'm Indian. There are outlaws roaming about those woods, I was an outlaw when I came to Louisiana in 1798. I preached when the Black Code forbade it. I know these people. I can reach them. God's created me for this moment."</i></span></div><div><span style="background-color: transparent;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div>It was not a "stinking hell" as some had described this land to Joseph Willis. Instead, it became his home. He believed that one day, God would turn this forsaken land into His "holy ground". It was to this area that Joseph Willis eventually moved his family and where many of his descendants still live and where he is buried.</div><div><br /></div><div>When we lived in Pine Prairie, our family made many trips to Oakdale just west of us. We had friends there, did shopping and enjoyed the ice cream and Drive-in movie. One of the things we quickly learned was to recognize a "Redbone." Yes, they were a mixed group of people and we thought were to some extent to be avoided. They looked different, spoke differently, but I never knew about their history. I accepted the stigma that seemed to be applied to them. Oakdale was on the edge of what had been "No Man's Land." We played basketball against schools that had been established in that territory. I do remember thinking that the girls were all very pretty and I envied them their beautiful olive skin. Yes, even after all those years, there was still prejudice and I never questioned it.</div><div><span style="background-color: transparent;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: transparent;">That is why it is crucial to not forget who and what came before us. To not forget what brought us to the point that our history affects our present and our future. Without knowing, without looking back and seeing how God has worked in our past, we cannot truly see our present. Neither can we see how He wants to use our future.</span></div><div><span style="background-color: transparent;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="color: #0f1111;">After overcoming insurmountable obstacles, Joseph blazed a trail for others for another half-century that changed American history. Joseph Willis's life is a story of triumph over tragedy and victory over adversity! Known lovingly as the "Apostle to the Opelousas" and "Father Willis," his accomplishments are still felt today.</span></div><div><span style="color: #0f1111;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="color: #0f1111;">He went on to marry a fourth time and fathered a total of 19 children, two of whom died at an early age. His youngest, Aimuewell, was born on May 1, 1837 when Joseph Willis was 79 years old.</span></div><div><span style="color: #0f1111;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="color: #0f1111;">Joseph Willis passed away and went home to Jesus on September 14, 1854 and is buried at Occupy Baptist Church in Rapides Parish, which he planted in the former neutral zone. At the time of his death Joseph had 28 grandchildren and 17 great grandchildren. He died at the age of 100.</span></div><div><span style="color: #0f1111;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="color: #0f1111;">Many of his descendants followed his example and went into the ministry, and continue to leave a legacy that Joseph Willis began when he crossed into the Louisiana Territory in 1798. There are churches all over Louisiana; there are families strong in their faith; there is still a small church in Bayou Chicot, Louisiana with doors open for anyone who seeks the kingdom of God because of this man who was proud to be "Twice a Slave".</span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYPmrgWJ-VPOuzdM-XAthVHFwXLudXL66DuEHPUpFS3TvpzdpyluLzVZQSgmqFUMeMUR7PmfkQdj0rIQAn6fu7DjIQxjGZdrxG78qyASmqxiwkrlNRKPua9bh8z3LXIrYxI3lDdzihoV6rhgDzXdHcA4Q9EBIaLC5SDWs3aljewYLY2GMmpuH5HRkalGw/s640/Calvary%20Baptist%20175%20Years.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="424" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYPmrgWJ-VPOuzdM-XAthVHFwXLudXL66DuEHPUpFS3TvpzdpyluLzVZQSgmqFUMeMUR7PmfkQdj0rIQAn6fu7DjIQxjGZdrxG78qyASmqxiwkrlNRKPua9bh8z3LXIrYxI3lDdzihoV6rhgDzXdHcA4Q9EBIaLC5SDWs3aljewYLY2GMmpuH5HRkalGw/w424-h640/Calvary%20Baptist%20175%20Years.jpg" width="424" /></a></div><br /><div>In 1987 the church celebrated it's 175 years of existence. Daddy was on the program and it was interesting to see that I was supposed to sing. Miss Mable, in writing about this milestone explained that I could not be there due to illness. I have no recollection of that, but do know for some reason I wasn't there. In 2012 there was again a large celebration that marked the church's 200th year. Again, for some reason neither I nor my sisters attended; however Randy Willis and the co-author of "Twice a Slave", Sammy Tippitt (also a descendant of Fanny and Gilbert Sweat) did attend.</div><div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Today, sadly the parsonage that our parents called home for 28 years is empty and the church is showing its age. Oh the sad affects of time. Hopefully, as long as there are believers in Jesus Christ in Bayou Chicot, the </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">legacy of its founder, Joseph Willis, and all the pastors who followed and served </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Calvary Baptist Church and her members, will continue to be shared with future generations.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="color: #0f1111;">This concludes my recording of our family's story and the historical background of places we called home. However, it has not been our story at all. It has been God's story! I trust as you have read these 10 accounts, it has been obvious to you that God was doing His work through our parents and hopefully He was able to use the Lazenby girls along the way.</span></div><div><span style="color: #0f1111;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="color: #0f1111;">As long as there are descendants of Porter and Laura Lazenby, their story will continue and it is my prayer that those who come behind will also give honor and praise to the God of ages whose story has been told through the generations. May God continue to bless the legacy our parents left behind, and may He find each of us as faithful to our calling as He has theirs.</span></div><div><span style="color: #0f1111;"><br /></span></div></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="http://threewindsblowing.com/">Randy Willis</a> has been doing family research for over 40 years and has written several books about his 4th great grandfather. I so appreciate all he has contributed to this account. If you are interested in more information, his website is <a href="http://threewindsblowing.com/">http://threewindsblowing.com/</a></div></span></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="85" data-original-width="140" height="86" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjThkQ3geDj5iiveEGhDZ3n47usipcfUCv-dmw2DzQc57m6OOVwo2yxw2eHTWMRu1wMAb71C3-G78BpKffGICXAqUIfhCp-zSPkX0yo6loKam-a6TFHFYcnXl54sMxVnlliUqhpQkgt49E/s1600/libby+sig+140.png" width="140" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/06/the-lazenbys-story-introduction.html">The Lazenby's Story - Introduction</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/06/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-1.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 1</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-2.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 2</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-3.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 3</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-riverview-part-4.html">The Lazenby's Story - Riverview Part 4</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-pine-prairie-part-5.html">The Lazenby's Story - Pine Prairie Part 5</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-6.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 6</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/bayou-chicot-history-part-7.html">Bayou Chicot History Part 7</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/bayou-chicot-history-part-8.html">Bayou Chicot History Part 8</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/bayou-chicot-history-part-9.html">Bayou Chicot History Part 9</a><br /></div></div>Elizabeth "Libby" Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17145264016754286426noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689804938550827918.post-8646924618989495742023-08-21T05:30:00.959-05:002023-08-28T10:20:36.007-05:00Bayou Chicot History Part 9<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>The Hawkins House</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Back in our days in Bayou Chicot, there were still several old houses around that had belonged to some of the early settlers such as the Haas House, the old Tatman House, The Griffith House where one of the good-looking mover boys lived, and of course the Thompson House that Miss Mable lived in until her death. All but two of them were in ruins. Many of these houses, once beautiful, had been passed down to descendants who chose to no longer live there, and had been neglected for generations. The Griffith House, where the Dudley Johnsons lived and who owned the last remaining sawmill in the area, still stands. The one I want to tell you about is the Hawkins House.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu-eIs0zPfH3DX1W3CKQte70_Aby-dyni82PXOvLPfTp-80Ho15kdn9bS8J5896WWoK3WyGdWvhxHZLBI1xVWIanqKwink2SmcRe75GQZpnztZC6MmtH5bvS07M4pN2bKZPfzyTaymv7d0XPjkGrbyPVcbq9DCGLQi3XwpKOJ2adYxsA5aU_qKlecQ/s856/Hawkins%20House%20Sketch.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="856" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu-eIs0zPfH3DX1W3CKQte70_Aby-dyni82PXOvLPfTp-80Ho15kdn9bS8J5896WWoK3WyGdWvhxHZLBI1xVWIanqKwink2SmcRe75GQZpnztZC6MmtH5bvS07M4pN2bKZPfzyTaymv7d0XPjkGrbyPVcbq9DCGLQi3XwpKOJ2adYxsA5aU_qKlecQ/w640-h336/Hawkins%20House%20Sketch.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Gin and I had freedom to explore the woods all around our house by ourselves except one place. The Hawkins House was on the opposite side of the school from us. It was in ruins but it was obviously a lovely home at one time. It sat on the most beautiful site around with hundreds of trees of various varieties, and only our imagination could picture what it might have looked like in its heyday.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">There was much folklore and mystery attached to this old house because there had once been a hospital there owned by Dr. Josiah Hawkins. In fact, it was the only hospital in that area. Stories told and passed down, and articles have been written about it; however, it wasn't until I did research for this series of posts that I actually learned the truth. But let me first tell you what we grew up believing.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">It was told that the Hawkins had been buried in the front yard of their home along with all their money and jewels. There were tomb stones there that been broken and the graves obviously destroyed. This fed into the likely hood of the tales being true.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The house and grounds were said to be haunted by the mental patients who had died from Dr. Hawkins's cruel experiments. Apparently, there were those still living in Chicot who had heard the painful screams during the night. I'm sure Gin and I thought we even heard them a time or two in the dark of night from our shared bed.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Another story was it was haunted by old Civil War soldiers who died there under the doctor's care. These lost souls were actually seen roaming around without limbs, etc. Perhaps the saddest story was that Dr. Hawkins's daughter, Belle who had been killed in an overturned buggy and lost her unborn baby, still cried at night. We were also told that Dr. Josiah E. Hawkins and his wife had been buried in the front lawn with all their money and jewels which explained why the tombs were broken and partially dug up.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The account, "<u>Ghosts of Evangeline's Past</u>," written by Tony Marks can be found <a href="https://archive.evangelinetoday.com/local/ghosts-evangeline%E2%80%99s-past">HERE</a>. The writer actually quotes someone who knew someone from Chicot with this: "</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>It </i></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>was called a sanitarium. Dr. Hawkins performed experiments on the mentally insane. His subjects came from all over, not just local people. It is said that there were many who died there and were buried there."</i></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Another person contributed what he had heard his grandmother say. </span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>“Dr. Hawkins was kind of a scientist, and he would experiment with these people. There were some people that were pathological. They were dangerous, and there was an old cell or like a room with bars that they were kept in. </i></span></span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana;">By experiment, I don’t know how bad the experiments were, but I always thought there could be people buried where that old house was that nobody knows about because people would come drop their family members off there and leave and never come back again.”</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana;"><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white;">An article from 1956 printed in The Ford Times and written by Ben Earl Looney can be found <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1BdQihjB49gX8Bqtrr7ZOibWVAjuzkb3AVST69oFun6QR1LLtPKc6dcu28q8Mjs0vOuJ4MuSJZpb6_cK7cX7w-_MFm43_ywZgoP56cF9-Pcj3rHT_3JonrmWzewzXtSOpAmNnU3j1SI4/s1600/Ford+Times+October++1953+02.jpg">HERE</a></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">These sure make for exciting tales but no one ever bothered to correct them until a few years later.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Miss Mabel describes the old house best:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>"It had stood here for something like one hundred and forty years. This once grand old place had a colorful history and a historic past, it had weathered periods of pathos, and tragedy, of success and gaiety, of war time gloom and even medical distinction." </i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The true story that has been handed down was the house had been built in 1840 to be a court house. The people living here had thought they could get the county seat located in Bayou Chicot since it was such a prosperous community at that time. However, politicians, in Opelousas were stronger, and the county seat of St. Landry parish was located there. In 1910 the area would be divided and renamed Evangeline Parish. The county seat is now Ville Platte (just a few miles south of Chicot), </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">so named by one of Napoleon Bonaparte's former soldiers, Adjutant Major Marcellin Garand (1781-1852), of Savoy, France.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Since, the house has served as best as can be remembered, as an early post master's home, as a girl's boarding school, as a Civil War refuge for a wealthy family from New Orleans and as the home of an eminent doctor and his hospital.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0LIA0qEq-4bRQyw_IEFuwGluv-lXk3aAr_pyGTHz57XCQ3GVCQGsOMYm772dNlmTMSecwSIhO1I7HfH0-66ok8Zbj-7gY4lN1vg4AI7qGECLjnYRLQJxxJrxAfrp9vEPEcDi9NgxJeDgYM0ce_nDhDnZaZSy1sooLGIgBLrpEUA3RGulT1awOCXT2/s350/Hawkins%20House.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="230" data-original-width="350" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0LIA0qEq-4bRQyw_IEFuwGluv-lXk3aAr_pyGTHz57XCQ3GVCQGsOMYm772dNlmTMSecwSIhO1I7HfH0-66ok8Zbj-7gY4lN1vg4AI7qGECLjnYRLQJxxJrxAfrp9vEPEcDi9NgxJeDgYM0ce_nDhDnZaZSy1sooLGIgBLrpEUA3RGulT1awOCXT2/w640-h420/Hawkins%20House.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Circa early 1900's</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcR_rwP0sO9ndVgPMk13yfRpsToNimIcatBUq2mZDRSuvQAWIGlN1akrUiz1ljFlfieine-YGLtiZqxB1YPdmOUce6ROw7JBFGEVGoID0yYvl7wyESq8Bmat3MOdmdJkKgz_Iig7bHvEgA7YUpXuJqEXr8DZDtPtrDbPWrJH4NJ-qHNlTHgszHklSj/s339/Joshia%20Hawkins%201836-1908.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="339" data-original-width="250" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcR_rwP0sO9ndVgPMk13yfRpsToNimIcatBUq2mZDRSuvQAWIGlN1akrUiz1ljFlfieine-YGLtiZqxB1YPdmOUce6ROw7JBFGEVGoID0yYvl7wyESq8Bmat3MOdmdJkKgz_Iig7bHvEgA7YUpXuJqEXr8DZDtPtrDbPWrJH4NJ-qHNlTHgszHklSj/w472-h640/Joshia%20Hawkins%201836-1908.jpeg" width="472" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Dr. J. E. Hawkins came into the community in 1872 with his wife Charity, sons Jeffie and Willie and daughter Belle. He liked the area and bought the land and the brick house. Dr. Hawkins added verandas across the front, south and north and a long wing on the back having several rooms. He next built an office out to the front of the house, and a little farther away behind the house, he built his hospital. Dr. Hawkins has the distinction of having the first and only hospital in all this area of Louisiana. Although it was never a sanitarium for mental patients, any patient unable to return home after treatment remained in the hospital and was cared for by Dr. Hawkins's servants and fed from his kitchen.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">He also made regular buggy rides throughout the community any time someone needed attending to. He did this at night and there are some interesting stories about some of his escapades.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Dr. Hawkins had his tenants plant hundreds of pecan trees all around his house, and many cedar trees and magnolias all out among the pecans. Miss Mable remembers that Dr. Hawkins had a greenhouse built where he grew rare plants, and that many years after the doctor's death there were huge japonica trees growing near the front porch.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">All the open land was farmed by his twenty-five tenants and their families. They raised corn, cotton, sweet potatoes, sugar cane, and vegetables on shares with the doctor. The crops were so productive that Dr. Hawkins saw a need for a cotton gin on his place to gin all the cotton grown there and some for the other people of the neighborhood, so he purchased a gin.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Dr. Hawkins also had cattle and needed hay to feed them during the Winter. He had heard of a new invention, the mowing machine, so he bought one and found a local man who could put it together and operated it to clear his acres of fields.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">There was also a large pen across the road from his home with a high fence around it, and here he kept a large herd of deer. All the deer had small bells around their necks. It's not sure why Dr. Hawkins had these, if it was for his enjoyment or for the meat. At that time there were no legal restrictions against penning up your meat source.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Many young men aspiring to become doctors, came from far and wide to observe and learn from Dr. Hawkins. He was well known all over the state and these young doctors went back to larger towns and cities to work. One of these young men fell in love with Belle, Dr. Hawkins's daughter and </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">I will allow Miss Mabel to tell their story.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>"One young man who had come to learn from the doctor finished in medicine, returned to marry the doctor's daughter, Belle. He was Dr. Willie A. Quirk. He took his bride to Reddell, Louisiana where he set up practice. A baby girl was born to the Quirks, and she was named, Belle. A road ran through the woods from Reddell to Bayou Chicot. One day Mrs. Quirk and the little girl were riding in a gig on their way to engage a young girl to help in the house work and with the child. Just as Mrs. Quirk drove to the gate where the girl lived, there was an incline, the harness broke, the gig turned over backwards throwing Mrs. Quirk and the child out onto the hard ground. Both were hurt, and Mrs. Quirk did not live long as she never recovered from her injuries. Dr. Hawkins wanted his only daughter buried near his home. A brick vault was built at the north end of the porch, and here Mrs. Quirk was laid to rest." </i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The story is that Belle was pregnant with their second child when she died.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Dr. Hawkins' wife died in 1888, and some years later he married Miss Bella Butchee, who was much younger than he - she was only eighteen and he was in his late sixties or early seventies. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Dr. Hawkins became ill and requested that if he died that he be buried by the side of his daughter. He died in 1908 and that explains why there were two graves in the front of the house. Some years before the old house was torn down, </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Belle's granddaughter had both remains moved to </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">the Vandenburg Cemetery, and placed by the side of the doctor's wife and son.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj69LiFZDuGJfMhJjhIupxCOVTrvmx2-a7Sw-VWWU3lF-71Wf-v1doVCJN48mLCAHsAihCFHb4B8vSy06vknFIiXsAb6XVLxq6Hv-UKI0jWYhqa0Glh-_16MWLdfY9jxkuuF0duqaL6lXFR2dxz996V7KYNBPtFHVImf5vBjdY1HVJFxjaFAl9qyiBe/s565/Dr%20Josiah%20Honor%20Article%201908.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="565" data-original-width="269" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj69LiFZDuGJfMhJjhIupxCOVTrvmx2-a7Sw-VWWU3lF-71Wf-v1doVCJN48mLCAHsAihCFHb4B8vSy06vknFIiXsAb6XVLxq6Hv-UKI0jWYhqa0Glh-_16MWLdfY9jxkuuF0duqaL6lXFR2dxz996V7KYNBPtFHVImf5vBjdY1HVJFxjaFAl9qyiBe/w304-h640/Dr%20Josiah%20Honor%20Article%201908.jpg" width="304" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Dad would take Gin and me to walk around the remains of the Hawkins house and though there wasn't much left, we weren't afraid of stepping on hidden graves. Neither did we see the remains of barred windows. It did always hold an appealing mystery and intrigue for us. We were able to see touches of wallpaper on some of the boards of the dilapidated house, and a few old medicine bottles scattered around what was once the hospital behind the house. This was before the grave remains had been moved, but there was evidence that the tombs in front of the house had been tampered with. We, with Dad's urging and his own love for history could only imagine the stories this place could tell. And they were not horrid, but endearing.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We loved this old place and it broke our heart to know it had been completely demolished and the land bought by a developer. Now though, there are lovely homes enjoying what could have been an historical site and still has a story to tell. At least we Lazenby girls will never forget the wonder and mystery of the old Hawkins House. And now, you know it as well.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Part 10 and my final post about life in Bayou Chicot will tell all about the history of Calvary Baptist Church, which is its own fascinating story. I'll see you next</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> Monday.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="85" data-original-width="140" height="86" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjThkQ3geDj5iiveEGhDZ3n47usipcfUCv-dmw2DzQc57m6OOVwo2yxw2eHTWMRu1wMAb71C3-G78BpKffGICXAqUIfhCp-zSPkX0yo6loKam-a6TFHFYcnXl54sMxVnlliUqhpQkgt49E/s1600/libby+sig+140.png" width="140" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/06/the-lazenbys-story-introduction.html">The Lazenby's Story - Introduction</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/06/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-1.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 1</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-2.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 2</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-3.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 3</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-riverview-part-4.html">The Lazenby's Story - Riverview Part 4</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-pine-prairie-part-5.html">The Lazenby's Story - Pine Prairie Part 5</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-6.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 6</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/bayou-chicot-history-part-7.html">Bayou Chicot History Part 7</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/bayou-chicot-history-part-8.html">Bayou Chicot History Part 8</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/bayou-chicot-history-part-9.html">Bayou Chicot History Part 9</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/calvary-baptist-church-history-part-10.html">Calvary Baptist Church History Part 10</a></div></div></div></div>Elizabeth "Libby" Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17145264016754286426noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689804938550827918.post-25000371782780924542023-08-14T05:30:00.032-05:002023-10-02T16:14:18.990-05:00Bayou Chicot History - Part 8<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We continue to delve into the fascinating history of Bayou Chicot and our personal experiences while living there.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>Education</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Records and old diaries passed from generation to generation tell that this area was settled by well-educated men and not of the "<i>coon-skin-cap</i> <i>variety"</i>, as Miss Mable called them, as early as the 1700's. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Some had been educated in England, Scotland and France before coming to America. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">There were first generation emigrants who came directly from Czechoslovakia. The Tubres family, who homesteaded land and built a home in Chicot came from the Pyrenees region on the Bay of Biscay. Another family, the Zagars came from Yugoslavia. Most of these </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">first settlers came from the thirteen original colonies. This accounts for the caliber of people we came to call family.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">A Ville Platte Gazette newspaper article dated January 8, 1942, giving a history of Evangeline Parish, stated that education in this parish "had a tardy beginning" compared to other areas of the state. However, that does not seem to apply to Bayou Chicot where education was very important to these early settlers in the Bayou Chicot community from the very beginning. Establishing schools was a part of early life there. It is also recorded that several families moved there primarily for the educational opportunities. Perhaps the most educated person in the whole area was the son of the wealthiest resident in Bayou Chicot who spent several years in the mid 1800's studying in Europe and afterward returned to his home where he played significant roles not only in education but in politics as well. The Sam Hayes name is still recognizable in Evangeline Parish.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqp9dEFtoh9uJAvP2un4QuYHysVqTr9fkbRlTUp9Pqd_Tc-hg49DyLT3z7HAPNifd0SdSVRRuOJjTwyp2JFAIv9Zj0_f2Ak1vyhG62wQ2YFKGElcZYZGDhu35_kp8BfOGGhKS6r1bhUS6PBVJS52_MxX5CizDfN9ehmZvaouTmyse7tfbIXwiQ9a7hfnU/s562/Sam%20Haas%20House.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="458" data-original-width="562" height="522" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqp9dEFtoh9uJAvP2un4QuYHysVqTr9fkbRlTUp9Pqd_Tc-hg49DyLT3z7HAPNifd0SdSVRRuOJjTwyp2JFAIv9Zj0_f2Ak1vyhG62wQ2YFKGElcZYZGDhu35_kp8BfOGGhKS6r1bhUS6PBVJS52_MxX5CizDfN9ehmZvaouTmyse7tfbIXwiQ9a7hfnU/w640-h522/Sam%20Haas%20House.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Picture Compliments of Stanley Whittington</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: left;">The old Sam Haas house looked much like this when we moved to Bayou Chicot in 1949. It was empty and overtaken by untrimmed bushes and grass, but still maintained some it's earlier dignity. The long-time caretakers of the place were Merix "Mr. Red" and his wife Mrs. Evalina Gooden who lived nearby. We remember them very fondly and with great respect.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlqRWnEF5c5fIRj1p9YXzdKiN4fIubjNC0AFzAbNN95wp-wBTfyYT-zRybBAVdsvcxsKI4aW1jNymDeO_Y1ImHfpcdlA_NfOirHpOsmkunVT7mKM5JXPJd6t-z9YZuTjOFhdgKJbjiWMfOuqHbtW-yA4WLKchcgtVB0RuRfQSfQGiW-IK5u9cvei8bgIo/s1600/Evalina%20&%20Merix%20Red%20Gooden.jpg" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlqRWnEF5c5fIRj1p9YXzdKiN4fIubjNC0AFzAbNN95wp-wBTfyYT-zRybBAVdsvcxsKI4aW1jNymDeO_Y1ImHfpcdlA_NfOirHpOsmkunVT7mKM5JXPJd6t-z9YZuTjOFhdgKJbjiWMfOuqHbtW-yA4WLKchcgtVB0RuRfQSfQGiW-IK5u9cvei8bgIo/w400-h300/Evalina%20&%20Merix%20Red%20Gooden.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Picture Compliments of Stanley Whittington<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Miss Mabel's great grandfather, Isaac Griffith came to this part of the country from Dover, Delaware in 1814, where he had received a good education and taught his younger brothers. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">He also served as Deputy Sheriff. At the age of 26, his curiosity brought him to New Orleans, which he found <i>"disgusting"</i> and moved northward. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Hearing about this English-speaking community, he was eager to continue his love for teaching. It is said that the other homesteaders saw in him the potential for a teacher for their children and he wrote in his diary that he "<i>commenced teaching school in Bayou Chicot on May 16, 1814.</i>" This was the first private school in existence anywhere in this part of the country, and</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> in all probability, it was the first English-speaking school for a much greater part of the territory.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Miss Mabel's </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">grandfather also became an educator and taught French and Latin to young men in the area who planned to go into medicine. More on that later.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPw75eVO9BO6f-OEVg0mES6wvh39mOk8xyxhGep6b3M5fPN6sTHELnM7b5rmAY_cC_ZXJ9BBmV0IHq0xVBrjD6BHtkfQNmy8YI2sc-pF8bfshoGBjc7yZV-B_LgPqocrmGpks6NMGjLLNNdH_649mNzmL1iOH8Jh5ZrXi0KU7AcEyvWbBxKm7aQlU1sUM/s1058/1903%20School.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="717" data-original-width="1058" height="434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPw75eVO9BO6f-OEVg0mES6wvh39mOk8xyxhGep6b3M5fPN6sTHELnM7b5rmAY_cC_ZXJ9BBmV0IHq0xVBrjD6BHtkfQNmy8YI2sc-pF8bfshoGBjc7yZV-B_LgPqocrmGpks6NMGjLLNNdH_649mNzmL1iOH8Jh5ZrXi0KU7AcEyvWbBxKm7aQlU1sUM/w640-h434/1903%20School.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">In 1886 the people of Bayou Chicot had a brand new one room school house. The above school could possibly be the Cheney Old Field school. The third from the left on front row is Wilson Whittington. Up until this time school had been taught in old vacant houses or in churches, or wherever there was room enough for teacher and pupils. They made do with whatever they could find to use.</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The first teacher in the new school was Louis De Grey, a Confederate veteran, who had lost an arm in a battle while fighting for the South. I'm sure those were some interesting classes.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGbxP52pNccRkwlgYjC2TV7cKedCTk1BRWMRN-TME3yOm38mysFKwezaC8ONRipAEILmhoh4BhTWYgHnoLoaS7lEtIrR_mzrEUpu5nKDKLvYDoxQ9vVutfvmOTD-MhOIE221ToltUnVmlDORBydzfs7Td4G7KeLmGSJGp977Wi2UvX5845lyZuLQJ_xPc/s2580/Bayou_Chicot_Schoolhouse_Completed_1912___Ville_Platte_Gazette___Apr_23__1981___Pg_20.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1713" data-original-width="2580" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGbxP52pNccRkwlgYjC2TV7cKedCTk1BRWMRN-TME3yOm38mysFKwezaC8ONRipAEILmhoh4BhTWYgHnoLoaS7lEtIrR_mzrEUpu5nKDKLvYDoxQ9vVutfvmOTD-MhOIE221ToltUnVmlDORBydzfs7Td4G7KeLmGSJGp977Wi2UvX5845lyZuLQJ_xPc/w640-h424/Bayou_Chicot_Schoolhouse_Completed_1912___Ville_Platte_Gazette___Apr_23__1981___Pg_20.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: left;"><span><span style="font-family: verdana;">The new three room 2-story brick school house was built in Chicot in 1912 and for the first time, all area students were able to attend in one location. Each classroom had a globe and maps hung on the wall. Miss Mable tells how they had never seen anything like them and were thrilled. </span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">She also tells about seeing their very first dictionary. The upstairs was also used for assemblies and became the community gathering place. It was in this building that she later began her long teaching career.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Miss Mable wrote in one her weekly newspaper articles of meeting a former student of hers one day whom she hadn't seen in over 60 years, </span></span><span style="font-family: verdana; text-align: center;">from this old school</span><span style="font-family: verdana; text-align: center;">. It brought back a memory she hadn't thought about in years. She said while the students were outdoors for recess, they saw there was a fire in the 2nd floor. She said she sent the older boys to get water and others to evacuate the building. She and the boys began transferring buckets of water to the top of the building. She said she still doesn't remember how they got up there because there was no ladder.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Once the fire was out, she returned to the front of the building where all the children were only to see a lone little boy sitting in his desk cradling all his books. When she asked what he was doing, he replied, <i>"You told us to get our belong'ns and go outside. I didn't want my desk and books to burn up."</i> This was that little boy and they shared this delightful memory. Now you know it too.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxc5wHUD-vtgEKiQbE9FvGa_jZrzdOCN7SNhUa6Q6MM7CqBHsye0EdlS0VuvFLZ9c8mrGnFteVjo_dk2kteopmw1iPqCa7bJ97wG183JTeI6mIl-SKfKWfyZ2V_KhBDyORDkF4j7VbjjW3l5a4vuBcTZu60o0IPx16EbjsVzn7i7HkSka4OzPznM691fo/s450/Building.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="250" data-original-width="450" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxc5wHUD-vtgEKiQbE9FvGa_jZrzdOCN7SNhUa6Q6MM7CqBHsye0EdlS0VuvFLZ9c8mrGnFteVjo_dk2kteopmw1iPqCa7bJ97wG183JTeI6mIl-SKfKWfyZ2V_KhBDyORDkF4j7VbjjW3l5a4vuBcTZu60o0IPx16EbjsVzn7i7HkSka4OzPznM691fo/w640-h356/Building.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana; text-align: center;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana; text-align: center;">The building we attended class in was built in 1936. In 1955 a new high school of contemporary design was built behind the older ones and across the road from our house. This was exciting to watch and a very scary thing happened on the building site one day. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana; text-align: center;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana; text-align: center;">Yours truly, who always seemed to find a way to get into trouble was enticed to wedge herself, along with a book and a Baby Ruth candy bar, between high stacks of 2X4's waiting to be used in the construction. Not long after getting myself comfortable, the stack I was resting against fell forward pinning me in-between the heavy lumber.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana; text-align: center;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana; text-align: center;">Daddy somehow heard my screams and with super-human strength managed to crawl into the narrow space and lift the heavy load on his back enough for me to get out and without them falling and crushing him. Needless to say, he was not happy with his eldest daughter, but he never made me feel guilty for putting both our lives in danger. I did that all by myself. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana; text-align: center;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: verdana; text-align: center;">In April 1968 this building was burned down by vandals. </span><span style="font-family: verdana; text-align: center;">Mother and Sarah saw the fire from our house and called it in. This of course, </span><span style="font-family: verdana; text-align: center;">was terribly upsetting for the whole community. In 1971 a new one was built to take its place. </span></span><span style="font-family: verdana; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white;">Today, the schools in the parish have been consolidated and only elementary st</span>udents attend in Chicot and they will have another brand new building in the fall.</span></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>Religion</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Religious development evidently began very early on, probably during the French domination. The earliest ministers were Catholic priests as this was during the time of the Black Code where only Catholicism was allowed. In 1798, the first Baptist preacher arrived in the state and primarily in Bayou Chicot although he ventured further south at a great peril to his life. Joseph Willis returned with his family seven months before the Louisiana Purchase in 1803, and established the first Baptist Church west of the Mississippi River in 1812. A Methodist Church had already been organized, so the earliest Protestant work in the state was done by these two religions and in Bayou Chicot.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">In my final post, Part 10, I will go into great detail about Joseph Willis and his work in Louisiana and especially Bayou Chicot.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>Commerce</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Very early on, Chicot became a thriving trade center for a large part of what became Central Louisiana all the way to the Sabine River on the western border. It was directly east of Woodville, MS which was the safest location to cross the Mississippi River. There were Creek Indians living in this area and passports to travel through their land had to be obtained. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Being the major trade center between east and west as well as north and south, Bayou Chicot was the sought after designation for frontiersmen. It served Indians, hunters, homesteaders and later large plantation owners. One of the original properties purchased was obtained from the Spanish Government on November 10, 1783. Property was purchased through Spanish Land Grants at this time. The Louisiana Purchase didn't happen until 1803. There are no available transaction records prior to 1783; however, there are numerous proofs that settlers were there way before that date.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">This area was appealing mostly because of its natural resources. It provided not only beauty, but great forests, waterways, fresh springs, rolling hills, and rich soil in contrast to the flat prairies of the land further south. Bayou Chicot was a thriving community at the beginning of the 1800's, and up until the outbreak of the Civil War.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Contributing to the success of this thriving community, <span style="background-color: white;">was a stage coach stand located here that served this area and provided a means for people</span> to travel from New Orleans to points north and west. This early trail was part of the El Camino Real which started in Colonial Mexico (later Mexico City) and ended in Natchitoches, Louisiana. It was the only overland route from Mexico across the Rio Grande to the Red River Valley and one of the routes went right through Bayou Chicot. We know it still existed as late as 1877.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">It was also used briefly during the Civil War to get supplies to the Confederacy </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">and to send cotton to Mexico. By the 19th century it was no longer used. In 2004, the El Comino Real became an historic Trail.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">There was another route that was part of this Trail that was along the western border with Texas and went through "No Man's Land" or the neutral land. It holds greater acclaim as it was this Trail that led to the settlement of Natchitoches and will be discussed more in Part 10.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The Civil War had a devasting affect on Bayou Chicot and other small communities in the south.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Miss Mable writes:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>"But when the Civil War came many had to leave their farms and businesses, with no one to carry on, naturally they soon fell into a sad condition. Many men were killed, many were crippled, and came home unable to help their families. This left the women in an awful state. Those that owned slaves, even if they had been freed, still looked to old master to provide for them. Naturally this placed an extreme burden on the former owners. During the years just after the war was a terrible time for everyone. During the reconstruction days it was a struggle for all in the South to survive."</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="text-align: center;">The state capital of Louisiana was originally in New Orleans. In 1862 it was moved to Baton Rouge, and there it remained until January of 1863 when the Northern soldiers came into South Louisiana. Then it was moved to Shreveport. Historical records discovered in the LSU Library, show that "<i>During the Civil War Yankee troops operated within the area of Evangeline Parish (it was then St. Landry) and <b>at one time the capital of Louisiana was located in Bayou Chicot.</b></i>"</span><i> </i>Isn't that a remarkable fact! Being part of the El Camino Real I'm sure played a part in this.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We had been told this story as children, but were told the capital was set up in the old Hawkins House. This has been determined to probably not be true because there was a much nicer home belonging to Major Ward Murduck that would have been a better choice for such a distinction. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Back in the early days of Bayou Chicot, there were many fine, large homes and the Murduck home was one of the finest. As people learned of the lush land and clean water supply, and an abundance of trees, they moved there to live, but also there were many summer homes built. These</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> no longer existed in 1949 and one today would find it hard to imagine Chicot being a large prospering community. The only way we know where some of these homes were is by finding planted tree groves, and rows of crepe myrtle trees that would have been on a nice homestead at one time.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">By the time we moved there, Bayou Chicot was no longer a thriving center of productivity. Besides having the largest man-made lake in the state located in the astonishingly beautiful Chicot State Park, there was only </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">the school, our church and </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">one store, Wilson Whittington's Store, but we simply called it "Papa Wilk's Store."</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzIVxA4YFNW9ZqvzKhnx3lbjKwSMUWY_-8ErO7ZJ5MwWuIAe2S5IA0T4_pAvAUsFaG2S9Bp9Rv5W1A4wZF7fmlqPNLYvBFAwhW8ILSTtTAFvF9bh3lsdMe3qv2WUdu-EvEHF2cGhn65rttOuU8Bs8yDCAMP3rRlPIipxgj_-jiMrU7o8o9MiF4gV970WQ/s1600/Pappa%20Wilks.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Wilson Whittington - WW II Veteran" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzIVxA4YFNW9ZqvzKhnx3lbjKwSMUWY_-8ErO7ZJ5MwWuIAe2S5IA0T4_pAvAUsFaG2S9Bp9Rv5W1A4wZF7fmlqPNLYvBFAwhW8ILSTtTAFvF9bh3lsdMe3qv2WUdu-EvEHF2cGhn65rttOuU8Bs8yDCAMP3rRlPIipxgj_-jiMrU7o8o9MiF4gV970WQ/w400-h300/Pappa%20Wilks.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wilson Whittington - WW II Veteran<br />Picture Compliments of Stanley Whittington<br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">An interesting sidenote: Records show Whittingtons living in Chicot when a Revolutionary soldier, Grief Whittington found his way to Bayou Chicot. It is believed that the three sons of Grief Whittington, John, Elisha and Greene eventually made their way west from their father's home in Mississippi. Grief was the Patriarch of all the Whittingtons who still today live in Bayou Chicot . He was born in Virginia in 1762, but lived in South Carolina. He was given 200 acres in Mississippi for fighting in the Revolution and records show him owning property there in 1806.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We aren't sure when the three sons arrived in Bayou Chicot, but they were known to be farmers. One son, John is the ancestor of Miss Mable. It is from Ethan who also was a blacksmith and a grocer that Papa Wilks, Delmont and Roger that you've already met, came, and the only brother who actually lived in Bayou Chicot. They intermarried with the Thompsons, Griffiths, Jenkins, Causeys and others, and it was the descendants of this intermingling who lived there in 1949.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Gingie's husband, Thomas Whittington is a descendant from the third and youngest son, Greene, who settled in the Bayou Beouf area, what is now St. Landry, just east of Bayou Chicot. Thomas's grandfather, Baldwin was the grandson of Greene Whittington and Delaney Bass. You will recognize Delaney's name in Part 10 of our story when I introduce her grandparents, John and Delaney Taylor Bass and her great grandmother, Fanny Sweat. So interesting!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Now back to Papa Wilk's story. Any and everything was sold in Wilson Whittington's Store and it had also been the voting site for the area until 1947 when Papa Wilks declared that it interfered with his business and asked that it be moved. Roger, mentioned in Part 2 was the only child of Papa Wilks and his 2nd wife, Aunt Esther, and he and Gin were the same age. They grew up like brother and sister.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We have good memories of sitting out on the backsteps of the old store eating watermelons. By the way, Chicot was known for growing the sweetest watermelons around and was a product shipped out of New Orleans at one time.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Gin has vivid memories of her and Roger seeing who could swallow the most seeds. When the maid, Aunt Malindy caught them, she told them they better stop that or she would "</span><i style="font-family: verdana;">whup you young'un bahin's to kingdom come an' back." </i><span style="font-family: verdana;">That was when she taught us how to spit the seeds and see who could spit them the farthest. This wasn't necessarily the beginning of our competitive spirits, but it didn't hurt it either.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">She also taught us that if "</span><i style="font-family: verdana;">you young'uns swallow dim seeds, you gonna grow a baby in dare</i><span style="font-family: verdana;">." This early sex lesson was good enough for us and we weren't about to let a seed slip down our throat. We loved that lady. Gin was especially close to Aunt Malindy. We also remember with great fondness her daughter, Mrs. Evalina Gooden, who also worked for Aunt Esther for many years, and her husband, Mr. Red. They were the finest people.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">One of Papa Wilk's grandsons, Stanley shared with me one of the reasons the Whittington family loved our daddy. Stanley's dad, Merwin, Papa Wilk's 3rd oldest son, was at home alone when the preacher went calling. During the visit, Dad asked him what he was going to do with the rest of his life. It was during this visit that Merwin prayed to receive Jesus Christ as his Savior and became a believer and church attender. His life was never the same. Stanley said, the family will always love "Preacher" for that visit.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">In 1950, Papa Wilk's 2nd oldest son</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">, Delmont,</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> by his first wife, built a new store in time for his dad to retire, and the big wooden, never-been-painted building on the only intersection in town was later torn down in 1959.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Delmont's store, Whittington Brother's Grocery was within walking distance of our house and it was also the post office. This was the only place for several miles around where one could purchase fabric, patterns and anything needed for making clothes; seeds and tools for the garden; building material; food for the chickens and livestock as well as good cuts of meat, veggies and ice cream for the family. And we were allowed to put what we bought "on the ticket."</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Delmont was a Baptist Deacon at our church and his wife, Elaine, a devout Methodist, became Mother's and Daddy's closet friends. They even had a daughter, Sherry, about the same time Sarah was born and the two grew up as sisters. Sarah has told about her friendship with this family in previous posts.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">In 1993 Delmont was honored by the community for his many years of taking care of the people of this area. It was estimated that at least 200 people attended this event, and it was an honor for Daddy to speak about his friend.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I believed Delmont was a mathematical genius because he never used a calculator to add up the many groceries on his counter. We enjoyed challenging him with long lists of numbers. He was the first to graduate from the school there with straight A's all the way through school. Delmont died one year after Daddy and we knew there was rejoicing in heaven not to mention a sweet reunion.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Today, there is a Dollar General, locally owned Tom's Fried Chicken, and a nice gas station that also houses the Bayou Chicot Grocery, but the Whittington grocery legacy is only a memory. There are many new lovely homes there now again as people have rediscovered the beauty of this part of the parish.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Known for its woodlands and rolling hills, the Chicot State Park </span><span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Arboretum contains 100 trees out of the 160 trees that are native to Louisiana. One can only imagine what the early pioneers to this area must have found.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Next week I will share with you one of the most interesting tales to ever come out Bayou Chicot history - the "haunted" Hawkins House.</span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="85" data-original-width="140" height="86" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjThkQ3geDj5iiveEGhDZ3n47usipcfUCv-dmw2DzQc57m6OOVwo2yxw2eHTWMRu1wMAb71C3-G78BpKffGICXAqUIfhCp-zSPkX0yo6loKam-a6TFHFYcnXl54sMxVnlliUqhpQkgt49E/s1600/libby+sig+140.png" width="140" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/06/the-lazenbys-story-introduction.html">The Lazenby's Story - Introduction</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/06/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-1.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 1</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-2.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 2</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-3.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 3</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-riverview-part-4.html">The Lazenby's Story - Riverview Part 4</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-pine-prairie-part-5.html">The Lazenby's Story - Pine Prairie Part 5</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-6.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 6</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/bayou-chicot-history-part-7.html">Bayou Chicot History Part 7</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/bayou-chicot-history-part-8.html">Bayou Chicot History Part 8</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/bayou-chicot-history-part-9.html">Bayou Chicot History Part 9</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/calvary-baptist-church-history-part-10.html">Calvary Baptist Church History Part 10</a></div></div></div>Elizabeth "Libby" Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17145264016754286426noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689804938550827918.post-5723651098245375362023-08-07T05:30:00.958-05:002023-08-28T10:19:50.115-05:00Bayou Chicot History Part 7<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWW_6bJndoe1mFg1LZnZH9wsepdd8YL7QdWghBk-nEze0oLthpxEoIaw42osNYGQNU6oucDLBD0XHhUkPgY-u-KPNJzmzG4S6NdTRTZh5PKwE2RqGB_81Ywa0cyYHSJZDtnIYtXV-SRuR99Noo4nfKc3wF1rjWiH2_1Tty70l-YMYzUYS7Fpsp5h2sPVQ/s1790/19_p43_Louisiana-Purchase-map-color2_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1157" data-original-width="1790" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWW_6bJndoe1mFg1LZnZH9wsepdd8YL7QdWghBk-nEze0oLthpxEoIaw42osNYGQNU6oucDLBD0XHhUkPgY-u-KPNJzmzG4S6NdTRTZh5PKwE2RqGB_81Ywa0cyYHSJZDtnIYtXV-SRuR99Noo4nfKc3wF1rjWiH2_1Tty70l-YMYzUYS7Fpsp5h2sPVQ/w400-h259/19_p43_Louisiana-Purchase-map-color2_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Why look back? What is important about spending time on the history of a little village that barely exists anymore?</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Because if its story isn't told and passed down, then future generations never know. History can be so quickly and easily lost and when that happens, what brought each of us to whatever point we find ourselves, becomes insignificant.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;">We must never allow that to happen. Even in telling the story of family, a tiny village and a church in Evangeline Parish, we find significance and meaning. It is all part of our story.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;">Before we can appreciate the history of Bayou Chicot, located in the south-central part of Louisiana, we need to first remind ourselves of how Louisiana came to be. It is one of the most fascinating stories of any state in the union and why Louisiana is probably the most culturally diverse state in the union.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;">The Spanish were the first to venture into the Mississippi River region. An overland expedition in 1542 by Hernando de Soto, was the first European confirmation discovery of the mighty river; however, hostile climate, wildlife, and geography convinced Spain to look elsewhere for the precious metals and fertile soils they were seeking.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;">This whole area was ignored for nearly one and a half centuries until France's King Louis XIV, the "Sun King," began encouraging exploration of the Mississippi River in order to enlarge his own empire and stop Britain's and Spain's expansion. In 1682, Rene-Robert Cavelier, Sieur de La Salle, reached the river's mouth and proclaimed possession of the river and all the lands drained by it for France. He named this vast expanse "Louisiane," or "Louis' land."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;">In 1718 the city of New Orleans was founded by Jean-Baptiste Le Moyne, Sieur de Bienville on a narrow strip of land at the mouth of the Mississippi River.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;">France governed the territory until 1763 when it turned Louisiana over to Spain. It was a Roman Catholic colony with a close relationship between church and state, priests, and politicians. They were the prevailing order at the time and continued to be well into the 18th century.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Royal policy in France and Spain prohibited non-Catholics from living in the colonies, but especially in frontier regions like Louisiana. This resulted in much persecution as Protestants began to arrive, and much opposition in being able to establish churches.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">On December 20, 1803, in the Cabildo in New Orleans, Thomas Jefferson's designee, William Charles Cole Claiborne, highest-ranking civilian official in the vicinity and General James Wilkinson, signed the transfer document giving lower Louisiana officially to the United States. Three months later the United States took possession of the full territory, in St. Louis when France handed over the rights to upper Louisiana. That was the Louisiana Purchase. </span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">On April 30, 1812, Louisiana was admitted as the 18th state.</span></span></div><div style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;">History tells us that Native Americans populated much of the land; in fact, there were many different Indian tribes living in what became Louisiana. We know that as early as 2000 BC, there were several groups living in both the north, central and southern sections of the state. By 1700 there were at least seventeen Native American groups living in the Louisiana Territory.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white;">Louisiana's Indian peoples are important to all of us because they represent the original human adaptation to the diversity of Louisiana cultures. As Houma tribal leader Helen Gindrat says, "</span><i>We were people before we were called 'Indians</i><span style="background-color: white;">." Despite years of neglect, exploitation, and expropriation of their lands, the Indians of Louisiana have persisted. </span><span style="background-color: white;">There are still four major Tribes </span><span style="background-color: white;">plus eleven State recognized Tribes living in Louisiana.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;">In the 1700's most lived in small and large communities and were mainly farmers and hunters. They were also very advanced in producing products needed to survive, such as their own clothing, jewelry, tanning, building, basket weaving, weapons, etc.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">During this period, emigrating colonists, Indians and Africans were among the most numerous inhabitants. They created a three-way exchange as no racial or ethnic group dominated, though Native Americans made up the largest segment of the population. They shared food, medicines, material goods, and building and recreational practices among the groups, even though there were times the Indians waged war against these newcomers </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">who were threatening their cultural existence and traditions.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Now, with that background, let's look more closely at Bayou Chicot. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuR11RnEdfAQdCUFGQc0r9okie2S8ojzyDrHvEJDF4YAzOq2D12Gr_uyRuEsiiuasRcUriWEKHBSlKPqHgJJJJLRvdFRJ5VOc_83dEx1cPZBfPuxNbX5yK2H-WWy3MF6_l5xl8JkfvgxhgFT6RdkTuHLKC0WWNAyTz7P71ItpWrQKdMtndI91dBkd-/s1824/Mable_Thompson____Looking_Back__Book___Bayou_Chicot___Ville_Platte_Gazette___Dec__8__1983___pg_13.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1824" data-original-width="1302" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuR11RnEdfAQdCUFGQc0r9okie2S8ojzyDrHvEJDF4YAzOq2D12Gr_uyRuEsiiuasRcUriWEKHBSlKPqHgJJJJLRvdFRJ5VOc_83dEx1cPZBfPuxNbX5yK2H-WWy3MF6_l5xl8JkfvgxhgFT6RdkTuHLKC0WWNAyTz7P71ItpWrQKdMtndI91dBkd-/w456-h640/Mable_Thompson____Looking_Back__Book___Bayou_Chicot___Ville_Platte_Gazette___Dec__8__1983___pg_13.jpg" width="456" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">1905-2002</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The interesting history about this area was captured in a book by Miss Mable Thompson, "</span><b><i><u>Looking Back - A Narrative History of Bayou Chicot.</u></i></b><span style="font-family: verdana;">" She was the acknowledged Chicot historian, and as the Chicot Social Editor for the Ville Platte Gazette, recorded and published every time I or my sisters "journeyed" to visit our parents in Chicot and anyone else who took a trip, or entertained guests. </span>She was my fifth grade teacher and one of the original teachers from the early 1900's. It was because of her and my dad's influence that I learned to love history.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Her family are direct descendants from the earliest settlers, arriving in the early 1800's. It is from her book, my own research, and </span>our personal experiences, that I will share some fascinating facts and stories about Bayou Chicot, Louisiana, the oldest English settlement west of the Mississippi River. To quote Miss Mable, <i>"There was a Chicot before there was a United States."</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>Choctaw Indians</b></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">According to Miss Mable, earliest records show that there was a large tribe of Choctaw Indians living in the area later known as Bayou Chicot. Her older brothers grew up with and knew many of them personally. They even learned their language which did not consist of many words. The Indians were friendly to these English speaking newcomers and there is no record anywhere of any discord between them.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Her oldest brother told her the story that he and a younger brother gave their Indian friends a dozen eggs one day to make them a blowgun. This was a gun made out of </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana;"> a straightened, hollow piece of river cane </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">used by the Indians for hunting small game such as squirrels and rabbits. There was a dart made of some type of hard, pointed material which plugged up the end of the shaft. When the hunter blew into the gun, the dart was forced through the shaft and out with a high velocity. It is said these Indians could hit their prey with amazing accuracy.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">This blowgun was still in Miss Mable's family home at the time she wrote the book. What a treasure. By the way, she lived in the original Thompson home until shortly before her death.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The Indians and settlers worked together, sharing knowledge and food as well as friendship. After the war between the states most of the Indians became tenants of the white people but continued to live in the woods in camps or small villages. Most of them were living in tents and wigwams, but as more settlers arrived, the Indians also began to build houses. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Unfortunately, many also </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">became sick and died with the "white man's" diseases such as tuberculous and pneumonia. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Miss Mable writes of having collected thousands of arrowheads of every size and shape. This also explains why when our dad was plowing new garden rows, he would find arrowheads. He would delight in showing them to us and telling us stories that he had heard as a child in North Louisiana. The story had even been passed down that we had some Indian blood in our veins and that explained my olive complexion. Although my DNA testing showed no trace, it still can not be ruled out.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Miss Mable tells an interesting account she learned from her brothers that you lady readers might enjoy.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>"The squaws usually worked very well and were busy making baskets to sell out of switch cane. They would set up a camp in the woods and sit around a fire making baskets of all shapes and sizes. Whenever the squaws got tired of a man getting drunk they would grab him, and tie his big toes with buckskin strings and tie him as high as they could to a limb in a tree with only his shoulders touching the ground. He stayed in this position until he sobered up and begged to be taken down." </i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">She told about how the Indians who lived around them had a keen sense of humor. Her uncle told her that before the Indians left for Oklahoma, they started getting a lot of mail from the government. One day one of the men who was a frequent visitor to his front porch, was holding one of these letters and reading it. The only problem was it was upside down. When the uncle asked him about it, the old man said <i>"You wouldn't understand it, it's all big Indian business."</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Another of her stories that was told to her by her brothers and verified by others who personally knew the Indians, regards their method of justice.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>"Old Charles was the last Tribal Chief the Indians had here, and when an Indian committed a crime, he was tried by Charles, and the tribal elders, and a sentence of death was pronounced. One Indian so condemned was away west of the Calcasieu River at the time so they sent word to him to appear so many moons from the date of sentence. When the appointed day came the Indian was stood against a tree. His squaw placed her hand over his heart, the bullet pierced her hand on its way to his heart." </i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Early in 1900, the government declared that the Indians were to be rounded up and sent to Oklahoma where they could purchase land. Of course, this is what is now known as "The Trail of Tears," one of the darkest days in American history. Some of these Chicot Indians escaped and resettled in various parts of the state. One group settled in an area west of Chicot, near the Texas border. This land was known as "No Man's Land," and the people came to be called "Red Bones." More on this in another post.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><b style="font-family: verdana;">How Did The Early Settlers Come To Bayou Chicot?</b></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">It is believed that the early settlers who came in the early 1700's, were English speaking, but how did they know to come to this particular part of the south?</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">History tells us that George Washington somehow knew of the open prairies around what is now Opelousas, La. It is located just north of Lafayette. <span style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255); line-height: 115%;">Records
show that men </span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">from England and Scotland <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 115%;">had been enticed by the promise of free land to come to this land to fight the French and the Indians. These groups were causing a lot of trouble along the Ohio River. At some point, a group of these men met with Washington, and he
evidently told them that the promise could be kept if they were
willing to go south to the prairies;</span></span><span face="Verdana, "sans-serif"" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 115%;">h</span><span style="line-height: 115%;">e </span></span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white;">advised them to go in groups for protection. This is possibly how the open la</span>nd around Opelousas came to be settled. Is it possible Washington also knew of the beautiful forests, rivers, sandy rich soil, wild life and fowl just thirty miles north of these prairies?</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">It is possible some of the colonists foresaw the fight with England brewing and left to avoid it. We know that some early settlers returned to fight in the revolution and no doubt told others about this lush available land. I know that is how some of our ancestors learned of the available farm land in North Louisiana and left the Carolinas, moving their families across the wide Mississippi.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">One of the most fascinating facts that I found is that there seems to be little doubt that the daughter of Louisiana's first Creole family
and her husband were among the first, perhaps the very first non-English, to settle the Bayou
Chicot area of the Old Opelousas Post. For those of you not from Louisiana, Creoles were</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana;"><span style="color: #040c28;"> people of mixed colonial French, African American and Native American ancestry</span><span style="color: #202124;">. The Black Creoles were freed slaves who came from Haiti and settled mostly in New Orleans.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana;"><span style="color: #202124;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana;"><span style="color: #202124;">Marie des Neiges Juchereau de St. Denys/Sanchez-Navarro was the daughter of the founder of Natchitoches, Louisiana, Louis Juchereau de St. Denys. This area is still known for their Creole heritage and in fact, I knew several personally when we lived in Shreveport. They are a proud people </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: verdana;">and rightly so, </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: verdana;">though at one point looked down upon because of their mixed heritage. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: verdana;">It is well known that St. Denys single-handedly guarded French interests in Louisiana prior to the founding of Natchitoches, the oldest settlement in the state.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #202124; font-family: verdana;">In 1714, having blazed the Old Spanish Trail across Texas, while in Mexico, de Denys met, fell in love with, and married Emmanuela Sanchez-Navarro, who is said to be a descendant of Cortez, conqueror of all Mexico. Their daughter, Marie des Neiges (which, in French, means "Our Lady of the Snows") was born at Natchitoches in 1734. At the age of twenty, she was married to Emanuel Antonio de Soto Bermudez, a native of Galicia in Spain, and an officer of the Spanish king on the Texas frontier.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: verdana;">The story continues that as early as 1785, the king of Spain granted a tract of land at Bayou Chicot to the couple. According to National Archives, as late as 1816, the children of this marriage still claimed property there.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: verdana;">Other land records indicate that this family also pioneered the first settlement at Pine Prairie or "Prairie Piniere" as it was first called. It was at Pine Prairie where de Soto died in 1799, his wife Marie, having died two years earlier, either at Bayou Chicot or in Pine Prairie. Their descendants are numerous in these areas to this day, represented by all Ortego families in the area of Evangeline Parish and beyond, some branches of the Fontenot and Vidrine familys, and many others. These are common names and some of our closest friends in Pine Prairie were in this group.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">No one knows exactly how Bayou Chicot got its name. Chicot is French for "<i>Stump</i>" but since it was the earliest English settlement, that interpretation is unlikely. It could have been a Choctaw word, but we will never know for sure. Regardless, "Stump" has been the name of the school's yearbook since the beginning, and is the accepted interpretation.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqQo5d_pFBDhbeWWFUSjKQHHXPRUU6zlhkT16NqlSUlEAYzWag6AyuOAGqqGaXaFjSIEZqpQ1AFH5EQiTvgSGXRTnAUu12BPhDkSmlvy8yZfrLmjl-Dk7KKlbmTePlCNStSYoRDMtQuhUBahT1HmWvVpGDjkz48bi-AIvMGEMDNb5HJiD6zAw-NnAE/s208/56%20The%20Stump.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="208" data-original-width="155" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqQo5d_pFBDhbeWWFUSjKQHHXPRUU6zlhkT16NqlSUlEAYzWag6AyuOAGqqGaXaFjSIEZqpQ1AFH5EQiTvgSGXRTnAUu12BPhDkSmlvy8yZfrLmjl-Dk7KKlbmTePlCNStSYoRDMtQuhUBahT1HmWvVpGDjkz48bi-AIvMGEMDNb5HJiD6zAw-NnAE/w477-h640/56%20The%20Stump.jpg" width="477" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Next time I will share with you more fascinating history of this part of the state.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/06/the-lazenbys-story-introduction.html">The Lazenby's Story - Introduction</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/06/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-1.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 1</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-2.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 2</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-3.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 3</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-riverview-part-4.html">The Lazenby's Story - Riverview Part 4</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-pine-prairie-part-5.html">The Lazenby's Story - Pine Prairie Part 5</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-6.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 6</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/bayou-chicot-history-part-7.html">Bayou Chicot History Part 7</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/bayou-chicot-history-part-8.html">Bayou Chicot History Part 8</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/bayou-chicot-history-part-9.html">Bayou Chicot History Part 9</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/calvary-baptist-church-history-part-10.html">Calvary Baptist Church History Part 10</a></div></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="85" data-original-width="140" height="86" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjThkQ3geDj5iiveEGhDZ3n47usipcfUCv-dmw2DzQc57m6OOVwo2yxw2eHTWMRu1wMAb71C3-G78BpKffGICXAqUIfhCp-zSPkX0yo6loKam-a6TFHFYcnXl54sMxVnlliUqhpQkgt49E/s1600/libby+sig+140.png" width="140" /></a></div>Elizabeth "Libby" Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17145264016754286426noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689804938550827918.post-78437112232579275392023-07-31T05:30:00.407-05:002023-08-28T10:19:18.637-05:00The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 6<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><u>1967</u></b> brought Mother, Daddy and Sarah back to Bayou Chicot after eight and a half years. Very little had changed and yet turbulence was on the horizon.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Sarah started ninth grade that year in the building we had watched being built when we lived there previously. Because this is mostly her story, I am going to let her tell about these years.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">"<i>Moving back to Chicot meant I was able to renew those family ties I had formed years earlier while also making many new friends in high school. The Whittingtons became my second family again, taking me on vacation trips, and Mr. Delmont helped me write papers for school. Of course, Maw Maw Delia always had me an Easter dress just like her other granddaughters, Sherry, Darlene and Jennifer.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i>"During my first three years of high school, I played basketball earning All District awards. In '67 we won the District Championship and I was high scorer with 19 points. We also played in the State Championship tournament but lost. In grades nine, ten and eleven, I was selected for the All-District Team for Class B, which was quite an honor. Basketball was the biggest sport in our area schools, regardless of size and always drew large crowds.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVtoP6K6lgfJGfblfsbApeZciDH5_XRNpo87aavB4s3F4aNh_qwsaAqMIwbFB_0LHe33ykEsbCT-70q3QhHMZfJjdlo4kqig5a0Vp93m9UXW5zRiiHFPIlHhp7qBlZtup0gec7LP3oc_2FkF1La1kuVrZ-AhypS-25m9GSlyYefs_mj7OasdP9AXJsCnU/s640/thIMG_6721.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="481" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVtoP6K6lgfJGfblfsbApeZciDH5_XRNpo87aavB4s3F4aNh_qwsaAqMIwbFB_0LHe33ykEsbCT-70q3QhHMZfJjdlo4kqig5a0Vp93m9UXW5zRiiHFPIlHhp7qBlZtup0gec7LP3oc_2FkF1La1kuVrZ-AhypS-25m9GSlyYefs_mj7OasdP9AXJsCnU/w482-h640/thIMG_6721.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4gs2Jm6BD0q-UNezrw1AVv1v7cdKCc8qfxepvXg9-tSqQpKFtYa083pVXcjTKmF4CH5MOYarUIB4RJ7mEkX9t1mOcgLE0BhGOX6vtzCBsYMEzKoECLVoxfu36CBUMXmsp1KBNx6IDAKYsrmTXByIax7rJUBb3TvztiDl_c3FaFmNtVtbc7jwIRoXT2xw/s512/thumbnail_IMG_6701.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="395" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4gs2Jm6BD0q-UNezrw1AVv1v7cdKCc8qfxepvXg9-tSqQpKFtYa083pVXcjTKmF4CH5MOYarUIB4RJ7mEkX9t1mOcgLE0BhGOX6vtzCBsYMEzKoECLVoxfu36CBUMXmsp1KBNx6IDAKYsrmTXByIax7rJUBb3TvztiDl_c3FaFmNtVtbc7jwIRoXT2xw/w494-h640/thumbnail_IMG_6701.jpg" width="494" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIKbTuczKiPNoweJIWDOsR41K8foLzAc6S95DNC6z8Wx4QY4D0_tpQ9IngBd6cjwzSGi3l2DROT5kn7jqOEj29C_7E40vBg9gHtXfNDljSKAbzye4ZgtcKw8jJV26RRHk71DFQcwDA96QzPByaQc20wX64Ma11C1jc96LH3ZCcpljChw-2N93jjnLPZrM/s1600/BC%20Collage.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIKbTuczKiPNoweJIWDOsR41K8foLzAc6S95DNC6z8Wx4QY4D0_tpQ9IngBd6cjwzSGi3l2DROT5kn7jqOEj29C_7E40vBg9gHtXfNDljSKAbzye4ZgtcKw8jJV26RRHk71DFQcwDA96QzPByaQc20wX64Ma11C1jc96LH3ZCcpljChw-2N93jjnLPZrM/w640-h480/BC%20Collage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>"I was also involved in and held leadership positions in several organizations on campus, such as the yearbook staff, Future Homemakers of America and was a class officer. Other than basketball, one of the things I enjoyed most was band where I was First Chair Clarinet. For a small band, we were quite good.</i></div><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5GGtGgETbQ8bpGvBYEcManvWz9T0XLvgeXSoA24p-bq-fUuof6asxyrne7mtfOAMx4w3ZItWS9ErvCfY-CqnPZ9oymH_FwUq-dpNrC3LjTVFIJqoiwt4-ZzO8hc-QJLrFIXej0RE6N-mq7qEvZ4-Y284ZRwOOmQbi7ab0CWoCdX3XS6OesoAjT98nRaY/s572/thumbnail_IMG_6700.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="572" data-original-width="481" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5GGtGgETbQ8bpGvBYEcManvWz9T0XLvgeXSoA24p-bq-fUuof6asxyrne7mtfOAMx4w3ZItWS9ErvCfY-CqnPZ9oymH_FwUq-dpNrC3LjTVFIJqoiwt4-ZzO8hc-QJLrFIXej0RE6N-mq7qEvZ4-Y284ZRwOOmQbi7ab0CWoCdX3XS6OesoAjT98nRaY/w538-h640/thumbnail_IMG_6700.jpg" width="538" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i>"Moving into my senior year there was concern that our school would not open. It was 1969 and full integration was being enforced. As time approached, Daddy being a leader in the area and being a strong supporter for Equal Rights, asked me if I was comfortable going to school. I had attended school with Black students and had no problem; however, after two weeks, with uncertainty whether the school would remain open, and after much thought and discussion, it was decided I would move to Bastrop, LA with Libby and Dick. I was allowed to enter the 12th grade a couple weeks late.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i>"When the Chicot school ended up closing for a period of time, we knew this had been the right thing to do. This was a big decision for everyone and not just me. Dick and Libby not only had to learn to be first-time parents of a six-week old son, they gained a 17 year old as well. On my part, it was hard adjusting at first to all the changes. I went from a Class B school and a class of 22 to a senior class that numbered 318 and a 5A school. Neither did I know a soul. I elected to not try out for the band or girls basketball team, although I missed playing both.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i>"We also were going through integration at Bastrop High School, but there were no serious issues unlike what was happening in Chicot. We learned later that Daddy was being threatened because of the stand he and I had taken about attending school with Black students. The FBI had been observing and following him. At what point this was happening we do not know, but I was so very proud of my dad for taking a strong stand for what he thought was right.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha-wZF5yhnRV3RviZaokMmjvx-sjXec8_zLKN2VxzpH_LVJXIK7XTvj6Ba16AUsTutt7fdJOHMWXLxQAxQxOxZ6MhwSf0H2gdDjQU_oiwiyW8uFPxtNcKg6nctK0RBE6juLvob0F8JDooNUAlRBTSBrFC02d86ywVTEgfNGZIqwPRU319aDVCJa4oKY3I/s640/1969%20Sarah%20Homecoming%201.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="481" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha-wZF5yhnRV3RviZaokMmjvx-sjXec8_zLKN2VxzpH_LVJXIK7XTvj6Ba16AUsTutt7fdJOHMWXLxQAxQxOxZ6MhwSf0H2gdDjQU_oiwiyW8uFPxtNcKg6nctK0RBE6juLvob0F8JDooNUAlRBTSBrFC02d86ywVTEgfNGZIqwPRU319aDVCJa4oKY3I/w482-h640/1969%20Sarah%20Homecoming%201.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: italic;">"</span><i>I made friends quickly both at school and at church. I even made my prom dress which I was proud of and graduated in the top ten of the class. T</i><span style="font-style: italic;">he best part of living in Bastrop was being with family and loving baby John. Lib and I got the opportunity to get to know each other on a whole new level. For them, I will be eternally grateful."</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii60R5K5HeMC5CGfVlE6mRHw1FJU5pdQBYuTkSpbKTNnQRFokiSgRmPE7LlXzmQP26CXDCxhcD2Td9xRRqZcI28rnH16Dr8NMD9_kNbvlgI7KeEWqVgLOG-cK1MxuM2onCN-H9kIHZHCngq1_MGoYEri7tK21w_dBZ6EjrTXPnTW9FuURP0YqXvEAnq4s/s366/Sarah%20&%20John%20'69.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="366" data-original-width="341" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii60R5K5HeMC5CGfVlE6mRHw1FJU5pdQBYuTkSpbKTNnQRFokiSgRmPE7LlXzmQP26CXDCxhcD2Td9xRRqZcI28rnH16Dr8NMD9_kNbvlgI7KeEWqVgLOG-cK1MxuM2onCN-H9kIHZHCngq1_MGoYEri7tK21w_dBZ6EjrTXPnTW9FuURP0YqXvEAnq4s/w596-h640/Sarah%20&%20John%20'69.jpg" width="596" /></a></div><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Now, my side of the story: After much chaos the first two weeks of Sarah's senior year at Bayou Chicot, the family agreed that </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Sarah should move to Bastrop with us to finish her senior year. This was hard on her, but we enjoyed having her with us as our son John had been born in August and she was a tremendous help. I also enjoyed getting to know my little sister better, and that time created a bond we would </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">have</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">never otherwise shared. Besides, John loved </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">her dearly.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlWSdNqbxTGg3LoHSsk7aShZiHZttsThCHU3DbKrMFhIhcz2q7iuzIdtfiX_2MWzLi9bJfiGykJivyzf9MRlNGgOd-z-j4rrdv5KfjXFDgDHz1uTyKqmeVBESuBcJge_Un3StCPZOFgNlvSxNFhpD6CCRM6zPYaM7QkXjTf8cK1K5meqNRU6E6xWZiEPM/s572/Sarah%20&%20John.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="515" data-original-width="572" height="576" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlWSdNqbxTGg3LoHSsk7aShZiHZttsThCHU3DbKrMFhIhcz2q7iuzIdtfiX_2MWzLi9bJfiGykJivyzf9MRlNGgOd-z-j4rrdv5KfjXFDgDHz1uTyKqmeVBESuBcJge_Un3StCPZOFgNlvSxNFhpD6CCRM6zPYaM7QkXjTf8cK1K5meqNRU6E6xWZiEPM/w640-h576/Sarah%20&%20John.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">After graduation, Sarah attended Northwestern State University in Natchitoches, LA and graduated with honors and a degree in Home Economics in 1973.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizHOCkokHU_TpoCPq0vZMoa09ptrmTO4rOIvbu1ImQiCw6BFd0TFlUFV21SasR6DzsAQ4ZQDo6bCvmsTfBKr3_z7nBvLE_mrJvENJev3YKj6GAM0kllR83L_nA8ieFB4kirY0kqg9T2cRuYHYoo92ejIWKaSsjZcrj__BXFuEcTH9yTjoigi-qtOoL1K4/s306/Wedding%204%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="306" data-original-width="253" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizHOCkokHU_TpoCPq0vZMoa09ptrmTO4rOIvbu1ImQiCw6BFd0TFlUFV21SasR6DzsAQ4ZQDo6bCvmsTfBKr3_z7nBvLE_mrJvENJev3YKj6GAM0kllR83L_nA8ieFB4kirY0kqg9T2cRuYHYoo92ejIWKaSsjZcrj__BXFuEcTH9yTjoigi-qtOoL1K4/w529-h640/Wedding%204%20(1).jpg" width="529" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">In the meantime, Gin had met Thomas while working in Baton Rouge, and they were married in the Bayou Chicot parsonage in January 1970.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfBcUszKn_odFKOXvuUBg5dupHrl1f-733UsMvq3Lje9OIDUEd9EYHN0eJ2booAe38VTFiHr-6OIvqqMSvPzRaoCmlVF4ACyR6NAIRBiDo3QMyt1SW4FRDoskY3oD0rJGzO-WhPxn1lJL7sinGgi1AqhUD8rs6Bv2hvCs_d7VCU7eZHdxcXSR_CFT2b30/s396/Wedding%201-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="396" data-original-width="337" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfBcUszKn_odFKOXvuUBg5dupHrl1f-733UsMvq3Lje9OIDUEd9EYHN0eJ2booAe38VTFiHr-6OIvqqMSvPzRaoCmlVF4ACyR6NAIRBiDo3QMyt1SW4FRDoskY3oD0rJGzO-WhPxn1lJL7sinGgi1AqhUD8rs6Bv2hvCs_d7VCU7eZHdxcXSR_CFT2b30/w544-h640/Wedding%201-1.jpg" width="544" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7XCnmlimz_p4pUr6yb9B7ebTQ19rCFCIFe7C2_wdWAqhA0zZl0sdyA5cdFuC-dHpjAm7SKUmW0uaAQfBj6KtXglr5W11IxN7F9rDMxxDGVk9fEQftRh3N6W-m45aTuAvURoHDgNeH3ojVgoehj4wWf36oHQFw6HbpKoGO4GzuIQHYK39pJE8X_m5ItxE/s281/Wedding%202-2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="274" data-original-width="281" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7XCnmlimz_p4pUr6yb9B7ebTQ19rCFCIFe7C2_wdWAqhA0zZl0sdyA5cdFuC-dHpjAm7SKUmW0uaAQfBj6KtXglr5W11IxN7F9rDMxxDGVk9fEQftRh3N6W-m45aTuAvURoHDgNeH3ojVgoehj4wWf36oHQFw6HbpKoGO4GzuIQHYK39pJE8X_m5ItxE/w400-h390/Wedding%202-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">It was at NSU Sarah met her future husband and she and Gene were married in Calvary Baptist Church in Chicot in 1973, where her life had begun. </span>After her wedding, she went on to get her Teaching Degree from Louisiana College in Pineville and taught for 33 years.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE-p5jTZ9ngwIn6dHrJK-9Ptg-ofcbRNXhqGlO-5KFSFZblc1FY3Y8TzeEhKbqehxpBaSjBG1PeIZqxeWpbIS-SjD_Y3iOaVU2IgW6dJpFxBxkeTMCPSJqJ9EORUQKRaienM90oyBdVZsNqxrFq8EuJeBT0jncQCFSkDPug-Qj-xABnKYHZfr8rxmmMUk/s541/Wedding.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="541" data-original-width="388" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE-p5jTZ9ngwIn6dHrJK-9Ptg-ofcbRNXhqGlO-5KFSFZblc1FY3Y8TzeEhKbqehxpBaSjBG1PeIZqxeWpbIS-SjD_Y3iOaVU2IgW6dJpFxBxkeTMCPSJqJ9EORUQKRaienM90oyBdVZsNqxrFq8EuJeBT0jncQCFSkDPug-Qj-xABnKYHZfr8rxmmMUk/w460-h640/Wedding.jpg" width="460" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsoNYbB1nMSuKUJ1mozhjiFRB6XqoKp5P-2-z2kTzww1GtlIVvHCFV8po4wRIlk70jsKtZ1qrDhim4eoiVF_S3X0DKfuckVqDjygV-DOTV8SemSN9S0K41HMpbcFlP2NdMrx8BIwvwZXdhlUhZDWEasaq6mVipqeg3fdGbmbxitFAPLelV-osDq9l9/s4873/PICT0069.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3631" data-original-width="4873" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsoNYbB1nMSuKUJ1mozhjiFRB6XqoKp5P-2-z2kTzww1GtlIVvHCFV8po4wRIlk70jsKtZ1qrDhim4eoiVF_S3X0DKfuckVqDjygV-DOTV8SemSN9S0K41HMpbcFlP2NdMrx8BIwvwZXdhlUhZDWEasaq6mVipqeg3fdGbmbxitFAPLelV-osDq9l9/w640-h476/PICT0069.JPG" width="640" /></a></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Being the gifted seamstress she was, she made her lovely wedding gown and used lace I brought her from a trip to Rome. She was a beautiful bride and nephew Eric and niece Christy were thrilled to be part of the wedding.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirUoiuJulwa0-M1ZxMV_r4aqyZ_yxwVK3IBaoClLa3_tAyhZJHCd7mW--8rmXiXR7yZIHiAigUlsP3d9nJadzOf6GQrnSNbHX3BHdT5MZu1DfbxkxxerGjXOodCDrhT0Pnhp8OgsfrvWx5-QzRmaIaR9NfW1NVJF6-4MTCEUkXLVIHZedDyukL6CZHDUM/s1373/Larla%20Sarah%20John%20Eric%20Christy%201971.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="915" data-original-width="1373" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirUoiuJulwa0-M1ZxMV_r4aqyZ_yxwVK3IBaoClLa3_tAyhZJHCd7mW--8rmXiXR7yZIHiAigUlsP3d9nJadzOf6GQrnSNbHX3BHdT5MZu1DfbxkxxerGjXOodCDrhT0Pnhp8OgsfrvWx5-QzRmaIaR9NfW1NVJF6-4MTCEUkXLVIHZedDyukL6CZHDUM/w640-h426/Larla%20Sarah%20John%20Eric%20Christy%201971.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Sarah holding Christy, Mother with Eric and John - 1971</span></td></tr></tbody></table></div></div></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">As the years passed, a generation of Lazenby grandchildren were introduced to Bayou Chicot and life in the country. Our children spent many visits and every Christmas with Papa and Larla and played in and among the same huge oak trees and woods where their parents had thrived as children.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Days: John & Christy (the only granddaughter)</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Whittingtons: Eric & Doug</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Bordelons: Chris, Matt & Ben</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLFurrbbASS6YSZhJKXDVr_6lVryiDARf7caNc6bKJgcEjSjft19yhN2pqgEgtaZwiibbw5UfP13yTvHX40tgN26S4t6M92VmefzOVtWf9lblOK7gx-KdnyxTKbDJZ4-rovMYAdMUEqLgR00c2iQja76qNDJ0AbKyvws-PaL2MbPSLeklzkS_fIv-Uj78/s602/Christmas.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="509" data-original-width="602" height="542" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLFurrbbASS6YSZhJKXDVr_6lVryiDARf7caNc6bKJgcEjSjft19yhN2pqgEgtaZwiibbw5UfP13yTvHX40tgN26S4t6M92VmefzOVtWf9lblOK7gx-KdnyxTKbDJZ4-rovMYAdMUEqLgR00c2iQja76qNDJ0AbKyvws-PaL2MbPSLeklzkS_fIv-Uj78/w640-h542/Christmas.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">For several years, we girls made matching outfits to wear for family Christmas in Chicot. We never knew what Dad would come up with for a Christmas tree. One year, he found the best "Charley Brown" tree in the woods. Another year he made one out of wood with electrical lights wired into the frame. Another year he felt sorry for a straggly tree with few branches so he drilled holes in the trunk and stuck branches cut from other trees to fill it in. Another ugly tree rescued and given center stage.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Regardless of the tree, we always knew his traditional fruit salad would be waiting for us when we arrived, and both Mom and Dad would be standing in the door watching for us.</span></div></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Mo1e0-vnPn9aLxWkFdCHXsWlAhBUyuu4bc5eqBM9leTiqcXO2RBPygOc3KPxChgWOCDpT9eiwABXVu3bo6vLGjkxQQN4_ilKuxrpT-x99a9_-JLtOoCHCwTJu1-GWP_8zMDveZiXUP1MYGCDpDSMynzLLnk3-w4AdzbaRVAEidtA6linl7ylS05_Atw/s1303/J%20E%20C%20D%201983037.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="915" data-original-width="1303" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Mo1e0-vnPn9aLxWkFdCHXsWlAhBUyuu4bc5eqBM9leTiqcXO2RBPygOc3KPxChgWOCDpT9eiwABXVu3bo6vLGjkxQQN4_ilKuxrpT-x99a9_-JLtOoCHCwTJu1-GWP_8zMDveZiXUP1MYGCDpDSMynzLLnk3-w4AdzbaRVAEidtA6linl7ylS05_Atw/w640-h450/J%20E%20C%20D%201983037.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Lazenby Grandkids loved Chicot adventures like their mothers had - John, Christy, Eric & Doug</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">During these years Mom and Dad remained very busy in the community and on an Associational and State-wide level within the Baptist denomination. Mother served as an officer with the Parish Home Demonstration Club, and was elected to serve as the State Woman's Missionary Union Secretary. In this role she<span> made two trips to Glorieta, NM for WMU Week, and to the most southern parts of Louisiana to visit new church fields. </span> They were both devoted to the people of Chicot and had someone in for coffee almost every morning. They became loving and devoted baby sitters for their busy daughters.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">In 1976 Mother took all the devotional thoughts she had collected through the years and compiled them into a book for daily reading and meditation. She handwrote four copies, one for herself and one for each of us girls. It was our Christmas present that year. I still treasure this timeless gift of love. In 2013, when I could hardly read the writing anymore, I typed what mother had written, added some of my own and had it printed for my sisters and my two daughters. I feel sure I am the one who continues to be blessed by it most.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Dad started making furniture pieces, including toddler beds for his grandchildren. Other pieces</span><span style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;"> both Gin and Sarah still have and have passed on to their grandchildren. He learned to do beautiful works of art with pieces of various kinds of wood he found; varieties were</span><span style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;"> plentiful. His friend Dudley Johnson had a sawmill and saved special pieces of wood for Daddy. These treasured items are scattered throughout the family and two pieces even decorate my great grandson's nursery.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2xtSP48SXczwBODBOwRwl-Ghn1Te54HacZ4zG7dEseOg_FfiUmIrGbIRMBZr8HdQg98bVGT1Vsy3gwKc9LWjzP8xpL-0ggfqyZqxaC7YODrbHfZ0xzcjmxUQo_NB6ozwgxRASqpDN_923Am0Ijw-ptqeOP4665VW971YtE70FBnoyQvD6PTXQW00_/s400/28%20Years%20at%20Chicot%201987.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="190" data-original-width="400" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2xtSP48SXczwBODBOwRwl-Ghn1Te54HacZ4zG7dEseOg_FfiUmIrGbIRMBZr8HdQg98bVGT1Vsy3gwKc9LWjzP8xpL-0ggfqyZqxaC7YODrbHfZ0xzcjmxUQo_NB6ozwgxRASqpDN_923Am0Ijw-ptqeOP4665VW971YtE70FBnoyQvD6PTXQW00_/w640-h304/28%20Years%20at%20Chicot%201987.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">In 1987, Daddy retired and was recognized for his 28 years of total dedication to the people of Bayou Chicot, and 48 years of full-time service and given the recognition of "Pastor Emeritus." During those years he had not only served as dedicated pastor and friend, community leader, and a respected leader in the Louisiana Baptist Convention, serving </span><span style="text-align: center;">on the State Executive Board,</span> but counselor and mentor to many. Their greatest accomplishments though were seeing lives changed when they came to know Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUOC4cwaZ5AyyHHcENBcXpmY_1o0EasY6J-eqONnc-JOgVl1Vu8fg_g3BFAIMTVPdMffLQ5H6CRkMwlaX6dA-OB9FYK1h53l26dVPLaIl10-is_C97d4Bf_wVEYEvEW1tMCzBdlqLyEmHrKlv4RZ0TQf1xWrFr1QW5A8kwzqm9VIXIoG_hXN9CVZva/s1413/Dad's%20Retirement%20from%20Chicot%20Church%201986.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1041" data-original-width="1413" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUOC4cwaZ5AyyHHcENBcXpmY_1o0EasY6J-eqONnc-JOgVl1Vu8fg_g3BFAIMTVPdMffLQ5H6CRkMwlaX6dA-OB9FYK1h53l26dVPLaIl10-is_C97d4Bf_wVEYEvEW1tMCzBdlqLyEmHrKlv4RZ0TQf1xWrFr1QW5A8kwzqm9VIXIoG_hXN9CVZva/w640-h472/Dad's%20Retirement%20from%20Chicot%20Church%201986.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">In one of the local papers, "Chicot Chatter" Contributor, Susan Griffith wrote the following:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>"Recently, the community of Bayou Chicot paid tribute to two of the most influential people of the area.</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>"Why? Because Porter and Laura Lazenby have stood by as many as five generations of area families through thick and thin, good and bad, for over twenty-eight years, as Pastor and pastor's wife of Calvary Baptist Church.</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>"Porter has retired from his ministry in this area. The Lazenbys reflect on the many rich memories of which they are fond, some being the marriages, births and baptisms of the many grandchildren, children, parents and grandparents of Bayou Chicot. They recall how close their own children grew to the members of the church. Being a small community, established for many years, many members are related. Most of the elders were referred to as Aunt this and Uncle that, by all the younger members of the church, even when seen at grocery stores and school functions. The Lazenby children had more aunts, uncles, grandmas and grandpas than any other kids around. Even though there was no blood kin in the area, they accepted others as their own."</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">It was upon retirement </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">that Mother and Daddy owned their first ever home. They never considered living anywhere else other than Chicot. The Lord provided a piece of property that already had a mobile home set up b</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">ehind the parsonage and they added on an addition. They could not have been more proud of their own place. Dad had the most beautiful garden, rows of Muscadine vines, and blueberry bushes, but God was not finished with this country preacher or his wife.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">When Mother was asked what her plans for the future were, she replied, "<i>It is the pastor who has retired, not me." </i>And that was our mother.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The First Baptist Church of </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Châtaignier, La.</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">(pronounced Sha-tan-ya) </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">soon called Dad to serve as interim pastor. After making that trip every week for about a year, he suggested it was time for them to find a full-time pastor. The chairman of the pulpit committee replied that they had, and it was him. Shortly thereafter, he and mother moved into the parsonage on the Southernmost tip of Evangeline Parish. These were perhaps some of the sweetest years of their ministry. They went back to enjoy their own home every week and to visit with their Chicot family.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Daddy also served the area as a Hospice Chaplain and on the Board of the Acadia Baptist Academy. He was soon a friend to the French-speaking Cajuns in this small community and greatly respected. With many of them who spoke no English, a nod, smile and handshake spoke volumes.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Mother continued serving on the State WMU Executive Board as Secretary, This was her heart. She wrote material and taught children's Sunday School classes, she corresponded with missionaries, had them in their home, and faithfully prayed for them daily. But most of all, she dearly loved and supported her preacher husband and the people God had called them to serve.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Dad was a dreamer. He always had a plan, a desire to do more. Sometimes this was frustrating to Mother, but Dad would say, "When a man quits dreaming, he becomes old quickly." In that respect, our father never got old.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfExWpSIgJYwN_urb-rss1vvZ32zMPoaDRE7P2PCcgxclvGpv1lGy-Cwsb858vg0ZzTOdsFacAMpkE6CLiFwT36a2EFjqgHbV8BUeH-En_Xec2euhVcF7Fm7EzGCwxmFnhrK-2il5_aveyNAxc8zWY_UbQp4Tg0JH0WjD7qRlbLdsipmgwGte6TEUIurQ/s1564/Creede.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1123" data-original-width="1564" height="460" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfExWpSIgJYwN_urb-rss1vvZ32zMPoaDRE7P2PCcgxclvGpv1lGy-Cwsb858vg0ZzTOdsFacAMpkE6CLiFwT36a2EFjqgHbV8BUeH-En_Xec2euhVcF7Fm7EzGCwxmFnhrK-2il5_aveyNAxc8zWY_UbQp4Tg0JH0WjD7qRlbLdsipmgwGte6TEUIurQ/w640-h460/Creede.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">One of the greatest joys and memories for Dick and me was taking Mom and Dad on a two-week trip to Colorado and Glorieta N.M for Music Week. Dad had never been further than Arkansas and this was a trip of a life-time for him. And for us!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOe-dBsIkRaj3pANtTyLuuJrqlM_U-3blQVQFLf8-f7LHdRZ7ikTHCpcnEOOauGMtMHuginwrnGnZga98w9Yz8YxTEpWE6xVl8Bjwinm59V98Ag93_53fon1L0C7vRYBODnghw6h2AlPzHS9BoSVLroQKaPUEJkjlAiX2EdhwGQjXwVm8hi22ogyztX0Q/s1177/Daddy%201.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="791" data-original-width="1177" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOe-dBsIkRaj3pANtTyLuuJrqlM_U-3blQVQFLf8-f7LHdRZ7ikTHCpcnEOOauGMtMHuginwrnGnZga98w9Yz8YxTEpWE6xVl8Bjwinm59V98Ag93_53fon1L0C7vRYBODnghw6h2AlPzHS9BoSVLroQKaPUEJkjlAiX2EdhwGQjXwVm8hi22ogyztX0Q/w640-h430/Daddy%201.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span>One of his dreams had been to climb a mountain. Even with terrible knees, </span>using his walking cane, he did it. We will never forget watching him climb knowing what a thrill that was for him. If not painful. It was when we could barely see him and at Mother's urging, Dick and I joined him. We continued to explore until he was ready to go back down. Climbing that mountain and finding treasures in the woods was another dream that came true. He never tired of seeing new vistas and sights.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">While in Chataignier, Mother and Daddy celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary on Nov 24, 1993.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiELsSblxk3bNwSPqIm9dCRC6eDDhqjFPnWux41OWeGsXnvX3Y_lhZcxI7rf5p6Hr-OqGQjRGDRL9SCiiBCev10tTwZeMzhUhlgwn8pnauTG1QyVEswvP6tf14KWUje6yPq-mfmncAbXiwf4YjOcNfXDK-1xR-j0yKN3uRr17gYpIrjjg8dEuOvcVJB/s541/Mother%20&%20Daddy%2050th%20Anniversary%201993.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="541" data-original-width="379" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiELsSblxk3bNwSPqIm9dCRC6eDDhqjFPnWux41OWeGsXnvX3Y_lhZcxI7rf5p6Hr-OqGQjRGDRL9SCiiBCev10tTwZeMzhUhlgwn8pnauTG1QyVEswvP6tf14KWUje6yPq-mfmncAbXiwf4YjOcNfXDK-1xR-j0yKN3uRr17gYpIrjjg8dEuOvcVJB/w448-h640/Mother%20&%20Daddy%2050th%20Anniversary%201993.jpg" width="448" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">What a glorious time of celebration not only for our family, but for a host of family and friends who made the trip to love on two of the most lovable and giving people they knew.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5ngJZxkEilF7ZUm1C4euYq9-0Rw6Q7u6zo2clZr8voVb7HuZj-HxSSuT9Dzma-aeWB6bLOAwHWlZT6YnnI4r_KYW6TtYy_rhEezCrdYlwG4v4F-WZw6i6HaOhDjRD43-4uMiMMcWIek0IbA1ntubbS5RAavqUQFAls2AuREmotTEYf4fEUszsraqW/s897/Anniversary%20Slides%20186.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="598" data-original-width="897" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5ngJZxkEilF7ZUm1C4euYq9-0Rw6Q7u6zo2clZr8voVb7HuZj-HxSSuT9Dzma-aeWB6bLOAwHWlZT6YnnI4r_KYW6TtYy_rhEezCrdYlwG4v4F-WZw6i6HaOhDjRD43-4uMiMMcWIek0IbA1ntubbS5RAavqUQFAls2AuREmotTEYf4fEUszsraqW/w640-h426/Anniversary%20Slides%20186.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCxYk1NKqWz-x6Vzt46gwBkmP9F-InbP6uSN35w7DRhrMBwxOg8uC7kcVzcEpYI_mag19L33QRucQg_nP1NvWnZuN_KLg71lwgiwPwNUSRJsvayqALdydoDx1SaS613iBBUWS737qA1aMcKiuLEkcn6zWB9x2Wc0ImFJIlv9MuU4-6-ZQ_c7PTXKoDbaY/s844/Dec.%201993.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="541" data-original-width="844" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCxYk1NKqWz-x6Vzt46gwBkmP9F-InbP6uSN35w7DRhrMBwxOg8uC7kcVzcEpYI_mag19L33QRucQg_nP1NvWnZuN_KLg71lwgiwPwNUSRJsvayqALdydoDx1SaS613iBBUWS737qA1aMcKiuLEkcn6zWB9x2Wc0ImFJIlv9MuU4-6-ZQ_c7PTXKoDbaY/w640-h410/Dec.%201993.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">We all gathered for our traditional family Christmas in the parsonage a month later with no idea it would be our last.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">On January 18, 1994 Daddy died at the age of 75, following an otherwise ordinary surgery and was buried in the Chataignier church cemetery. Mother sold their place and moved into an apartment in Bastrop, La where Dick and I lived at the time. We had not lived close to each other, so these years were such a sweet blessing to us all. She made new friends and continued to be very involved in WMU, though not on the scale she had always enjoyed among "the heathens" of South Louisiana.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy4lO_3ZqK747c-TUCj9hphWlzBg0wGunVuYf7xqaYhRP5OeMQRQa_VzrNfBDeo3EPFzYqQSu_DjADRllRiSZ1v1mZDKQtETuf1SHF5QLVx14px5VAThI-SZkLy-3JbvOwsMtx8m3W0WuGFUMQKkIQ-vv5av2eX24oWXmX_K1cbOUYFYbwdI2VMeh7gmk/s953/2004-07-11%2001.02.29.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="929" data-original-width="953" height="624" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy4lO_3ZqK747c-TUCj9hphWlzBg0wGunVuYf7xqaYhRP5OeMQRQa_VzrNfBDeo3EPFzYqQSu_DjADRllRiSZ1v1mZDKQtETuf1SHF5QLVx14px5VAThI-SZkLy-3JbvOwsMtx8m3W0WuGFUMQKkIQ-vv5av2eX24oWXmX_K1cbOUYFYbwdI2VMeh7gmk/w640-h624/2004-07-11%2001.02.29.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">In 2002, Dick and I moved to Shreveport and took Mother with us. Her greatest thrill during these last years was being able to spend time living closer to some of her great grandchildren. Even though they had not been blessed to know their Papa, these children knew and were loved by their Larla.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">On July 28, 2005, Mother joined Daddy in heaven at 86, and was buried beside him in </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Chataignier</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">. Theirs was a true love story in every respect. For 50 years they shared life and ministry, supported and respected each other unconditionally, and set an example for generations to come. Dad never failed to bring a twig, a flower, a feather, whatever he found, to show Mother his deep love for her almost daily.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Someone wrote that <i>"There is something inherently transcendent about relationships and the magical way they elevate us from our material drudgery, if we let them." </i>However, I think Henry David Thoreau perhaps best described our parent's strong individual characters that together created a uniquely strong relationship. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "Linux Libertine Slanted"; font-size: 12pt;">“Two sturdy oaks I mean,
which side by side,</span></i><span style="font-family: "Linux Libertine Slanted"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Linux Libertine Slanted"; font-size: 12pt;"> <i>Withstand the
winter's storm,</i><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "Linux Libertine Slanted"; font-size: 12pt;"> And spite of wind
and tide,</span></i><span style="font-family: "Linux Libertine Slanted"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "Linux Libertine Slanted"; font-size: 12pt;"> Grow up the
meadow's pride,</span></i><span style="font-family: "Linux Libertine Slanted"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "Linux Libertine Slanted"; font-size: 12pt;"> For both are
strong.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Linux Libertine Slanted"; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "Linux Libertine Slanted"; font-size: 12pt;">Above they barely touch,
but undermined</span></i><span style="font-family: "Linux Libertine Slanted"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "Linux Libertine Slanted"; font-size: 12pt;">Down to their deepest
source...</span></i><span style="font-family: "Linux Libertine Slanted"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "Linux Libertine Slanted"; font-size: 12pt;">Admiring you shall find</span></i><span style="font-family: "Linux Libertine Slanted"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "Linux Libertine Slanted"; font-size: 12pt;">Their roots are
intertwined</span></i><span style="font-family: "Linux Libertine Slanted"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "Linux Libertine Slanted"; font-size: 12pt;">Insep'rably."</span></i><span face="Verdana, "sans-serif"" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Our parents left a legacy from the far Northern-most part of Louisiana to the South-Central part of the state, and only God knows how far beyond that. We do know of the impact they had and continue to have in the lives of their three daughters, sons-in-law, and their eight grandchildren. It is our prayer that they never be forgotten and that their legacy continues now to the 5th generation. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">We will always miss our "Gentle Giant" and his special lady of great wisdom and our prayer warrior.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">These are our treasured memories. Thank you Mom and Dad</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy4t--n9xBrOROCUMEpPX-2BDomx0yJiAZ87t_4t0mKOurQOCUYptdGG_lEHpFBlTVrV1zoWCkTCOUBqcv23wyMgMIcYk6XmjO8J_P6l0FNwwDLA-7FYzbeg4P0IwhhRHSsMUTaTk_XBV2yIv2fZgmd5RaEAeeXM29Pzxvhowp6wrN4GY4EfepGq5m/s1024/Headstone.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="492" data-original-width="1024" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy4t--n9xBrOROCUMEpPX-2BDomx0yJiAZ87t_4t0mKOurQOCUYptdGG_lEHpFBlTVrV1zoWCkTCOUBqcv23wyMgMIcYk6XmjO8J_P6l0FNwwDLA-7FYzbeg4P0IwhhRHSsMUTaTk_XBV2yIv2fZgmd5RaEAeeXM29Pzxvhowp6wrN4GY4EfepGq5m/w640-h308/Headstone.jpg" width="640" /></a></p></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Following Dad's death, Sarah invited people with whom Dad served, current and former church members, friends and family to write what he had meant to them and send it back to her. She compiled these many letters into a book that each of us treasures. It will always be a reminder that none of us live in isolation, but our lives are like ripples in a stream; only God knows how far-reaching and to what extent our influence will have on others.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Truly, those who came behind them, have found them faithful!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBRW3SfjDQwErvurvpi-iCCU8kklNFgrW7cQbjhuxufGPRY9Uf91SXy2QqhuRY48P6KN9C61N1ta1YaLjwZGvO47wZYZHs1tlXkmD9wEpr5w3UoGzO2SsSjiSxKaDtjJbvhgvVM-Te3X89AyZUesKXGtI6JUfqiyfmn--upEGxeoyE0rAc_qqddjE9sfI/s812/IMG_9222.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="541" data-original-width="812" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBRW3SfjDQwErvurvpi-iCCU8kklNFgrW7cQbjhuxufGPRY9Uf91SXy2QqhuRY48P6KN9C61N1ta1YaLjwZGvO47wZYZHs1tlXkmD9wEpr5w3UoGzO2SsSjiSxKaDtjJbvhgvVM-Te3X89AyZUesKXGtI6JUfqiyfmn--upEGxeoyE0rAc_qqddjE9sfI/w640-h426/IMG_9222.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">A few years ago most of the Lazenby grands and greats gathered for a reunion. We all agreed Papa and Larla would have loved being there and would be exceedingly proud of the lives they left behind.</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The purpose of writing this story is that we do not forget. I want those who come behind to know who we were, and what it was like to grow up in rural Evangeline Parish in the 50's and 60's with parents like Porter and Laura Lazenby. I've told our story by sharing very candidly experiences of our family. I'm answering questions our descendants will not know to ask.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span>You will learn about the rich history </span>that helped form the character of our Chicot family of Calvary Baptist Church and Bayou Chicot in the next three Monday morning posts.</span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="85" data-original-width="140" height="86" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjThkQ3geDj5iiveEGhDZ3n47usipcfUCv-dmw2DzQc57m6OOVwo2yxw2eHTWMRu1wMAb71C3-G78BpKffGICXAqUIfhCp-zSPkX0yo6loKam-a6TFHFYcnXl54sMxVnlliUqhpQkgt49E/s1600/libby+sig+140.png" width="140" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/06/the-lazenbys-story-introduction.html">The Lazenby's Story - Introduction</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/06/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-1.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 1</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-2.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 2</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-3.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 3</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-riverview-part-4.html">The Lazenby's Story - Riverview Part 4</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-pine-prairie-part-5.html">The Lazenby's Story - Pine Prairie Part 5</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-6.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 6</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/bayou-chicot-history-part-7.html">Bayou Chicot History Part 7</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/bayou-chicot-history-part-8.html">Bayou Chicot History Part 8</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/bayou-chicot-history-part-9.html">Bayou Chicot History Part 9</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/calvary-baptist-church-history-part-10.html">Calvary Baptist Church History Part 10</a></div></div></div>Elizabeth "Libby" Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17145264016754286426noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689804938550827918.post-85651746677178356582023-07-24T05:30:00.145-05:002023-08-28T10:18:59.866-05:00The Lazenby's Story - Pine Prairie Part 5 <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUJsHSIRwLrvIJUawFvJ2WqupVWKs_BEqJwitecbEWOVNdrgLp63MoHAeGl6zAvp8b7DEx_TVYMISThEdvDQrSRB0Sr4_6KdIUhoqDwd0hgVKBtyDabtUXurEce77HgXQ7z3f7XLJWue1FvwQdjO8aj17qLfkZCH0_lgSPkXhooMFolmiuzfEXr6RIm1Y/s1001/evangeline_map%20gif.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1001" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUJsHSIRwLrvIJUawFvJ2WqupVWKs_BEqJwitecbEWOVNdrgLp63MoHAeGl6zAvp8b7DEx_TVYMISThEdvDQrSRB0Sr4_6KdIUhoqDwd0hgVKBtyDabtUXurEce77HgXQ7z3f7XLJWue1FvwQdjO8aj17qLfkZCH0_lgSPkXhooMFolmiuzfEXr6RIm1Y/s320/evangeline_map%20gif.png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">In the summer of <b>1961</b>, our family moved back to Evangeline Parish only a few miles from where we had lived two </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">and a half </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">years before. Louisiana is the only state in the nation to have parishes instead of counties because the originators did not like the county system. </span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Another unique feature is that Louisiana is the only state where </span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana;">the Roman law</span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> is practiced. All other states practice the English Common Law</span></span><span face="Poppins, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #565656; font-size: 14px;">.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Evangeline Parish, o</span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana;">riginally part of St. Landry Parish</span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> was created by an Act of Legislature in 1911 when </span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana;">a large group of citizens declared that this area become a separate parish.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana;">Records show that the Evangeline Parish area is one of the oldest inhabited areas of Louisiana, dating back to the early 1700's.</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: 14px;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana;"> The name ‘Evangeline’ was selected as a tribute to Evangeline, the young Acadian lass made famous by the noted poet, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span face="Poppins, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">T</span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">he population of Evangeline Parish is composed principally of English and French ancestry of which a large percentage speak Seventeenth Century French. There is a notable sprinkling of Spanish in the Southern or plains portion.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Although Bayou Chicot and Pine Prairie were English settlements, Pine Prairie had more of a French/Spanish influence. </span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">The First Baptist Church of Pine Prairie was established in 1918. In a future post, I will delve into the fascinating history of this part of the country.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">As I said in the previous post, we were in for a bit of a culture shock with this move.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">For the first time we lived where there were more Catholics than Baptists. There were more than two denominational churches in the little town; in fact there were five. There were two grocery stores and even a small restaurant or two. We had an actual post office and fire station. There were streets with names and even a few sidewalks. Gin and I could again walk to school and back. Another big thing was the parsonage was actually a block behind the church. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">The population was less than 400 and consisted predominantly of white people.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">As you no doubt have ascertained by now, the Lazenbys were not affluent by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, we were poor by most standards. Interestingly enough, we never considered ourselves in this way. Although there were people around who had more money, no one lived in any grander state than we did, and if they did, it wasn't important. We were all the same. One of the things our parents and family instilled in us was pride and a sense of integrity and dignity; not from a worldly or self-centered viewpoint, but from a Biblical perspective.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">One of the first things of which we were informed after moving in, was that the previous pastor's daughter, who happened to be a year older than me, was a "wild kid" and had evidently created a pretty bad reputation not only </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">for</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">herself but her family as well. Wow, was this ever pressure from the get-go. We all initially felt this information meant "you better stay in line young ladies." After several family discussions, I think Gin and I began to realize the importance of living our faith not only for our own witness, but for our father's ministry and reputation. Using the excuse "everybody else is doing it" was not an argument we would win. I decided it wasn't enough to say I was a Christian without living like one.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">This certainly doesn't mean any of us were saints - far from it - but it did mean I knew I had to be different; be the person I knew God wanted me to be. I was going into the 11th grade, Gin the 9th and Sarah the 3rd. Gin and I both had strong personalities and were being faced with new temptations as well as opportunities. Sarah was still sweet and adorable.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Actually, we soon learned that by far the majority of the kids and families in town were just good, hard-</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">working </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">people who also believed in strong family ties and living their faith. Regardless of their religion, they were devout and welcomed us with wide-open arms of acceptance. We quickly made friendships that last to this day.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Dad was having a new challenge of his own. There were a couple men in the church who had evidently always had their way in how the church was run. They had never had Porter Lazenby as a pastor. Dad very diplomatically yet strongly let them know who made the pastoral and leadership decisions. This took a while but they ended up being some of his biggest supporters and we all enjoyed a sweet friendship between our families. Good leadership breeds respect.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Another thing Dad did that had never been done in the history of Pine Prairie, was to make friends with the local Priest, Father Prescott. Needless to say, those previously mentioned men questioned the wisdom of this. Dad and Father Prescott became very good friends and shared a cup of coffee weekly and only they and God know what they talked about. For the first time, there was communication and mutual respect between the leaders of the two largest churches in town. Porter Lazenby wasn't there to convert all the Catholics.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj23dttZtpvz-Kd4L5vwV94snXjBh1aR1PpimlHExbxlxwOwJ8pZ819WbbA64m6y-LLFuxUWleITGsY_ogN_nhv7dBSHqXa_Q0tiHDMrcZGEWb5avPYb6cDTsvmfcizoUPFvU_h_dnQd7WHIeyCcJvuVUgkbTUFtjOlJ8wDrNo43vhWP8NFS6l3Qs46_8/s449/thumbnail_IMG_5776.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="449" data-original-width="437" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj23dttZtpvz-Kd4L5vwV94snXjBh1aR1PpimlHExbxlxwOwJ8pZ819WbbA64m6y-LLFuxUWleITGsY_ogN_nhv7dBSHqXa_Q0tiHDMrcZGEWb5avPYb6cDTsvmfcizoUPFvU_h_dnQd7WHIeyCcJvuVUgkbTUFtjOlJ8wDrNo43vhWP8NFS6l3Qs46_8/w389-h400/thumbnail_IMG_5776.jpg" width="389" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Guess who was the Elementary School Principle. Do you recall in my first post telling you about those two handsome college boys who helped us move in at Bayou Chicot? Cecil Griffith, who had held my heart all those years ago and whose little sister, Edith Pat ended up being one of my best childhood friends, was Sarah's principle. He was forever a prince of a man!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNRmFu3h759BYdxy8E5bgwDk87JqEI9iKCqTtdfT6LuSYjHEVjL_vz0Vr90fRFgBKgvC4fpiJvU_-Z8MMyM7vC0gmyGY866DZnAzvHqo_LyJymvRGQVyVa8wWzcIvHzoljIubeMyr8Z_hqaiz9CTYoUN_nNDSzRaWZ69jRTtaEzkMOlx201yuEr2Db3l0/s540/thumbnail_IMG_5785.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="462" data-original-width="540" height="548" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNRmFu3h759BYdxy8E5bgwDk87JqEI9iKCqTtdfT6LuSYjHEVjL_vz0Vr90fRFgBKgvC4fpiJvU_-Z8MMyM7vC0gmyGY866DZnAzvHqo_LyJymvRGQVyVa8wWzcIvHzoljIubeMyr8Z_hqaiz9CTYoUN_nNDSzRaWZ69jRTtaEzkMOlx201yuEr2Db3l0/w640-h548/thumbnail_IMG_5785.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Gin and I both played on the varsity basketball team, I played softball and ran track my junior year, and Gin was an excellent tennis player. I tried playing against her but I swung a racket like a softball bat and lost every time. We were both officers in some of the same clubs as well as class officers in our individual grades.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ32n_FlNS9vOEgYhkrYi1lJKGesXOBAmGfz4I9gGt2otbGdNRYB8I4UbK13HVJ2LZ_Nn-KuTOnMGzba16gFYhTjwfXgSJuOZtOhnfaqjTEAIaiy-Q6XdNhBUhuJ_P_dV8PyGIjHIL2rcFwZRAaG5IrXbVOfr0563yvCrZwSRQycgtXofg59Hs-Hv-4vA/s353/1961.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="353" data-original-width="292" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ32n_FlNS9vOEgYhkrYi1lJKGesXOBAmGfz4I9gGt2otbGdNRYB8I4UbK13HVJ2LZ_Nn-KuTOnMGzba16gFYhTjwfXgSJuOZtOhnfaqjTEAIaiy-Q6XdNhBUhuJ_P_dV8PyGIjHIL2rcFwZRAaG5IrXbVOfr0563yvCrZwSRQycgtXofg59Hs-Hv-4vA/w331-h400/1961.jpg" width="331" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">All three of us were </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">11th, 9th, and 3rd grade </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">class favorites in 1961.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV40cfpBJG8MfgFuiTQg_EZYlCwI6pIphQkGWS-IwieYMMgeVESkAXDSTo3iKwhwKaEb_MayJry1wDqocKl5XCvEPKUAzpJY8UeQFautm0MnZ6eEz6mNDT0hknQqi77hbMJPljt3cHBJ6AIWM247mBzDR-YRUf4uwULcdnWExpghvuMfuJGGKdC2vY-ys/s1600/1961%20Class%20Favorites.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV40cfpBJG8MfgFuiTQg_EZYlCwI6pIphQkGWS-IwieYMMgeVESkAXDSTo3iKwhwKaEb_MayJry1wDqocKl5XCvEPKUAzpJY8UeQFautm0MnZ6eEz6mNDT0hknQqi77hbMJPljt3cHBJ6AIWM247mBzDR-YRUf4uwULcdnWExpghvuMfuJGGKdC2vY-ys/w640-h480/1961%20Class%20Favorites.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Gin shared some of her special memories of these times:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>"We moved to Pine Prairie the summer before my going into the 9th grade. I quickly made friends and had a neighbor boy, Billy Campbell who became my walking buddy to and from school and my adopted brother. He and I were elected class favorites for several years in high school.</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>"I was given the opportunity to continue my joy of playing basketball under a wonderful coach. I also loved tennis and did very well. It was here in Pine that Libby and I attended our first Catholic Midnight Mass as well as weddings, funerals and other special services with our friends of different faiths."</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Not too long after moving to Pine, Daddy bought a piece of property on Cocodrie Lake in Clear Water, just north of Pine Prairie. He had dreamed of having a camp where he could spend time in nature, fishing, studying and having a place for him and Mother, and the family to enjoy. He spent all the time he could spare buying lumber and other building materials and did all the labor himself. He finally had it complete and sparsely furnished enough that it could be used. It was near another camp that belonged to friends in our church.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">He wanted me to drive the motor again for him to check his line one day, but I had lost whatever skills I had once had, plus I was having to maneuver around trees, stumps and marsh instead of a wide open river. I think it was a disappointing time for both of us. That night as we were all sleeping, we were awakened by the most awful scream from what sounded like a woman right outside our windows. Dad explained it was a panther and that they had been seen roaming in the woods.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">A few months after the camp was completed, Dad had spent a day there piddling and fishing and roaming the woods. Around mid-night he received a call that his and our friend's camps had been burned to the ground by poachers who didn't like their hunting territory disturbed by outsiders.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">This broke our daddy's heart and it took a long time for him to get over this loss. Not only had he lost a dream come true for him and mother, but also all of his tools including the old inherited tools from Mother's father he had treasured since their marriage. This was a hard and painful loss for him. No one was ever charged.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">In 1962 I was a senior and it was a full year. As basketball was the big sport in all our schools, we had games and tournaments every week, not to mention daily practice sessions. I'm not sure where homework fit into my schedule, but I do know it wasn't necessarily my first priority.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">There was a dear elderly French lady in our church who spoke pure Cajun and very broken English. She lived in a small "shotgun" house near us. Dad suggested that I mow her yard for her which I gladly did. All we had was a push mower that took every ounce of strength my beanpole legs possessed. One day she called me inside the house and told me to choose between three antique pieces of furniture as payment. My insistence otherwise went on deaf ears and I eventually chose the dresser with a piece of Italian marble. These were her family heirlooms with no one to pass them on to. I have treasured this piece of furniture ever since because out of love and a sense of gratitude, she gave all she had.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6QafH8lGbKHzmr0ippqB_wwoOmj8aO_5Tgp5w7fMtRkO-lszb5wEIdCjWsHyGj5VP54QyEpNJkSGflUAFWJSbpLxIutQBhnDKywPF1Nj9Iws0GznRk_oVmvdZb8KINm1iGHIYtWqKVowevIAsPrbNbsG0Gq5Magsd7rDHMmpTC89PUdqBN1skeM06r0E/s458/7659.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="458" data-original-width="335" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6QafH8lGbKHzmr0ippqB_wwoOmj8aO_5Tgp5w7fMtRkO-lszb5wEIdCjWsHyGj5VP54QyEpNJkSGflUAFWJSbpLxIutQBhnDKywPF1Nj9Iws0GznRk_oVmvdZb8KINm1iGHIYtWqKVowevIAsPrbNbsG0Gq5Magsd7rDHMmpTC89PUdqBN1skeM06r0E/w293-h400/7659.JPG" width="293" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I had been taking voice lessons from the wife of our basketball coach since early 1961, and had several opportunities to sing for various events, weddings, etc. in and around our community. This is also when Gin and I were the official double pianists for our church. Quite often during a particularly difficult test, my English teacher, Mr. Gaudet, the boys basketball coach would say, "<i>Libby, sing us a song</i>." I would whip out "Some Enchanted Evening", "Summertime" or some other song I knew he liked and never failed a test.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Dad also enlisted me to teach the preschool children in Sunday School. Little did either of us know that it would eventually lead to my serving as a Preschool Director and a Preschool Music Specialist with the La. Baptist Convention Music Department. I worked with preschool choirs in almost every church Dick and I served for more than 40 years.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The Senior Play was always a big thing to look forward to in Pine and the entire community came out for that. We practiced so hard on getting every line and action just right. There was a particular favorite section that we enjoyed rehearsing over and over. The night of the play I came in too quickly on one of the funniest lines in the show. Unfortunately, it belonged to my Homecoming King and boyfriend. That almost ended a really good friendship.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">There were also talent shows where we participated and one especially when Gin and I sang a duet that we both refuse to relive again.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI4L0s8ZTEGtKL3fuH-FDo615RyERORbZA4B9iSgGQ3DEi2Gvj_t3e4SC9sAsEAlDKyVGfMUu-u0AAtrfehYsavSpzxaUYHIJbqOGy0lxHWlI-JVMnhIKOofZ8qgFxbuztQGmbqOMBr9NsWuBrW0Q-x-Uwba4huqqbtZZeRSde1H8d4cndqBs8Y1B9mfw/s2400/1962%20Pine%20Prairie%20Collage.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="2400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI4L0s8ZTEGtKL3fuH-FDo615RyERORbZA4B9iSgGQ3DEi2Gvj_t3e4SC9sAsEAlDKyVGfMUu-u0AAtrfehYsavSpzxaUYHIJbqOGy0lxHWlI-JVMnhIKOofZ8qgFxbuztQGmbqOMBr9NsWuBrW0Q-x-Uwba4huqqbtZZeRSde1H8d4cndqBs8Y1B9mfw/w640-h320/1962%20Pine%20Prairie%20Collage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Danny and I were chosen as Homecoming King and Queen and I was voted as FFA Sweetheart yet again. This time I was entered into the State FFA Sweetheart Competition held on the LSU Campus in Baton Rouge. It was my first ever beauty type pageant and I was scared to death. I didn't win but had a good time and somehow made my local club proud.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">After graduating from H. S. I enrolled at LSU at Alexandria, then a two-year commuter branch of LSU as an Education Major.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">My freshman year, to my amazement, I was nominated for the Miss LSUA title and even more amazed when I won. There were some much prettier and better known girls in the competition, so I still wonder how it happened.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjia2fmBRn6w2Zcx1Qt3cEyRPLeAU1f1ScrdOQQl_u-JyUwBwGsPGXB5zTrQBbkXkOLdrySXjB7RzH_B1IdxaCwfzKISh5QpJzwe89R_uRAFrR6EArmQdcYjTxRYUWr3A-rhfBLqN3oqMVKOFP3xTgAisZVE_k5wCH3SSIhmZGPjPCEtcTbUm4zLjK-POI/s608/thumbnail_IMG_5788.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="608" data-original-width="425" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjia2fmBRn6w2Zcx1Qt3cEyRPLeAU1f1ScrdOQQl_u-JyUwBwGsPGXB5zTrQBbkXkOLdrySXjB7RzH_B1IdxaCwfzKISh5QpJzwe89R_uRAFrR6EArmQdcYjTxRYUWr3A-rhfBLqN3oqMVKOFP3xTgAisZVE_k5wCH3SSIhmZGPjPCEtcTbUm4zLjK-POI/w448-h640/thumbnail_IMG_5788.jpg" width="448" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAcEU98Pcb2SXDX_zj82GYKJoESOivzgNeZQ9O5iOfWbXgVk9tlcNJqLAyqjfXCQQiurGU9jTWI1Eqw3fILLBsl3HqLhck6LvHbPNfCumOHNIuVzMQEM8zCYqrXZxoILbXDTJ0DKNzDSMcoeTrAyZdOVrJWFq5SJzWLpwIUVukGnYSD5PuEm39yKJAc3o/s1600/Miss%20LSUA.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAcEU98Pcb2SXDX_zj82GYKJoESOivzgNeZQ9O5iOfWbXgVk9tlcNJqLAyqjfXCQQiurGU9jTWI1Eqw3fILLBsl3HqLhck6LvHbPNfCumOHNIuVzMQEM8zCYqrXZxoILbXDTJ0DKNzDSMcoeTrAyZdOVrJWFq5SJzWLpwIUVukGnYSD5PuEm39yKJAc3o/w640-h480/Miss%20LSUA.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">One of the honors I had as Miss LSUA was to cut the ribbon opening a new road that connected the school with our previous community, Riverview. Unofficially, it has always been known as "Libby's Road" to our family.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The following year</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> I moved in with a lovely lady, Mrs. Mary who lived near the campus. She had another girl also living there, Floyanne. We became fast friends and great roommates and are still close today. This move also put me where I needed to be in order for God to continue working His plan for my life.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">In 1964, I was a finalist for the Miss Cenla (Central Louisiana) Pageant. During this year I sang in the </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">State Baptist Student Union Choir and was appointed a state officer. My position </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">was editor of the State BSU yearbook. Only with God's help was I able to have it completed on time and it was the first BSU yearbook with color and graphics. I am still proud of the accomplishment.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheHlMZjVusCGXM8QXLoNRtfKBxQ2RocJj9c4Vzo5Sg6MOj3JtHQFaOZ_kjzAFy8a9QHZfMzypiwh_4ELTm-rh0QET2SzZGwfJszSyrXuEmHYDxgfD3hLb89gVQ_xRfK_sRA2h6suIVaiASgZjBprU_Ahn3rDOMTGGIOKUON4IC6WFYAPrBkli8bsrDd2k/s396/Miss%20Rapids%20Parish%201963.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="396" data-original-width="120" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheHlMZjVusCGXM8QXLoNRtfKBxQ2RocJj9c4Vzo5Sg6MOj3JtHQFaOZ_kjzAFy8a9QHZfMzypiwh_4ELTm-rh0QET2SzZGwfJszSyrXuEmHYDxgfD3hLb89gVQ_xRfK_sRA2h6suIVaiASgZjBprU_Ahn3rDOMTGGIOKUON4IC6WFYAPrBkli8bsrDd2k/w194-h640/Miss%20Rapids%20Parish%201963.jpg" width="194" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Also, in 1964, I was selected to serve as Miss Rapids Parish. Thankfully, this was a talent based competition and not swim suit or the outcome would have been very different. Incidentally, I made the lined suit I wore to be crowned. Mother's teaching and four years of Home Economics had finally paid off.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">In 1962 and '63 Gin and Billy were 10th and 11th grade favorites. Sarah was chosen as her class favorite those same years.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYcsqE0H88QwaRa_HAllfbfnr81HGbx78XZN46ipYasc1ezUdytV_67hrP_yokEV_xs1Gt76EnRS1OENKTAER5SDamhfekud7b1R5KwF_n64QDTZD18FM-xjCbjx_YXLW3Oz-9bSvOWy3zn6u5dfydDNC67-Zaq9tO6JnNN4oClg7CB_3T3qoAaMLYc1U/s1600/'62%20favorites.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYcsqE0H88QwaRa_HAllfbfnr81HGbx78XZN46ipYasc1ezUdytV_67hrP_yokEV_xs1Gt76EnRS1OENKTAER5SDamhfekud7b1R5KwF_n64QDTZD18FM-xjCbjx_YXLW3Oz-9bSvOWy3zn6u5dfydDNC67-Zaq9tO6JnNN4oClg7CB_3T3qoAaMLYc1U/w640-h480/'62%20favorites.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRyQZOydK31thaxnEpYWXuL0ldPFXqf1qyYFTwi2DKpDnDfDWUQf8RvLjMPseGBjv8rBzEiuvHUxuEeBUdLmEVuh71LqIEmVLaVR9xK0ZlEvQrTALJ4kCuSHcPwP_IucFwBkqQ6swI9x3KsifvMQed-qburKXgdnuUwK3PkGqk6uLuRVo3D-ua_wyn01I/s1600/Collage.jpg" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRyQZOydK31thaxnEpYWXuL0ldPFXqf1qyYFTwi2DKpDnDfDWUQf8RvLjMPseGBjv8rBzEiuvHUxuEeBUdLmEVuh71LqIEmVLaVR9xK0ZlEvQrTALJ4kCuSHcPwP_IucFwBkqQ6swI9x3KsifvMQed-qburKXgdnuUwK3PkGqk6uLuRVo3D-ua_wyn01I/w640-h480/Collage.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><div style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;">During her high school years, Gin continued to excel in sports and academics and was everyone's favorite in school. Her senior year, she was treasurer of the Beta Club, class secretary and on the yearbook staff. She and her best friend, Lynn were chosen "Most Likely to Succeed" and crowned Homecoming King and Queen of Pine Prairie High School. She graduated in '64 with many recognitions and honors. She also attended LSUA for a while but ended up going to work and eventually moved to Baton Rouge. She bought her first car, a new '64 Corvair Monza Super Sport for $2,400. Imagine that! It was beige with black interior and bucket seats and it suited her to a tee. While working in B. R. she lived with several girls who became life-long friends. She also met her husband-to-be.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrZ-GSAor0HOaCghp69sE8ywqJYNtjb7tLlS3Bcs5r1ONCG34_8epC-lFl9RVO0JL4W7d1lf1SKP8F3l0d0SMQq1B4hhCTTAqg9dfg0BxyY2NDr_WPADWddf2nn4SDcVWl8LFpQp_xbT7O0Sa5jpstyvag2MWwWkta-j3DgEe2a5uCRg8BnCRIJ6v6aPg/s541/Gin%201965.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="541" data-original-width="502" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrZ-GSAor0HOaCghp69sE8ywqJYNtjb7tLlS3Bcs5r1ONCG34_8epC-lFl9RVO0JL4W7d1lf1SKP8F3l0d0SMQq1B4hhCTTAqg9dfg0BxyY2NDr_WPADWddf2nn4SDcVWl8LFpQp_xbT7O0Sa5jpstyvag2MWwWkta-j3DgEe2a5uCRg8BnCRIJ6v6aPg/w371-h400/Gin%201965.jpg" width="371" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="text-align: left;">Sarah completed grades three through eight in Pine. She made friendships there that have lasted all these years later and her love for animals only grew.</span></span></div><div style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVKgUhBXtb6dHyvJ3COFR_EWNyBnc7Uk9hqZJ7J-JJD1nAFcmZsOKeSm89oRGi8N-v_QBzFcw2tnciSBLfXKBwdtSLAeHqqQYaGq3U1rf_B-cUPyN8wamKbeR5hO_F6XYHXP_wn563cKCIIw1pZB8rjXe23kdbXHoUuuXk9djGUBehQBsFCVLKtKO6Zm4/s445/thumbnail_IMG_6708.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="445" data-original-width="320" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVKgUhBXtb6dHyvJ3COFR_EWNyBnc7Uk9hqZJ7J-JJD1nAFcmZsOKeSm89oRGi8N-v_QBzFcw2tnciSBLfXKBwdtSLAeHqqQYaGq3U1rf_B-cUPyN8wamKbeR5hO_F6XYHXP_wn563cKCIIw1pZB8rjXe23kdbXHoUuuXk9djGUBehQBsFCVLKtKO6Zm4/w460-h640/thumbnail_IMG_6708.jpg" width="460" /></a></div><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"></div></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpkcJGx-c7_sYedd1uw3uP9JVTriRnjdoNL2-kg6nHbm--OWniZEd0yAiidzvKgkW-4rtd99m4fNTpUs1aTL4WXAkG_0zk7_pnRV2KJJ4KMX5jssp-y9FKcvODyabEEVhkmZnbNQeHatAH8ykkoMq0Vyvg4GufhHkSRbqKSCjTgcPbD-u67JYDN20XIhk/s447/IMG_6720.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="443" data-original-width="447" height="634" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpkcJGx-c7_sYedd1uw3uP9JVTriRnjdoNL2-kg6nHbm--OWniZEd0yAiidzvKgkW-4rtd99m4fNTpUs1aTL4WXAkG_0zk7_pnRV2KJJ4KMX5jssp-y9FKcvODyabEEVhkmZnbNQeHatAH8ykkoMq0Vyvg4GufhHkSRbqKSCjTgcPbD-u67JYDN20XIhk/w640-h634/IMG_6720.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOOew-sSv_w_RdwovoVOcsfQmJCt3vNxJvQ-Q6Nz9R_qQEmyx28BQQEja2aFZVm5q9ZuZ_w1upPeRDkl7QdC9qsZLl10iXinQB4Y4Rq9P3KSrv29Qcls3ED1EA-jIxie9cheh2pG3TJxJKJuGb0Cz8Vyri1vLAX75BpaFPdh893-ZxofPLTZ3IulVNhf4/s428/thumbnail_IMG_6709.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="428" data-original-width="383" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOOew-sSv_w_RdwovoVOcsfQmJCt3vNxJvQ-Q6Nz9R_qQEmyx28BQQEja2aFZVm5q9ZuZ_w1upPeRDkl7QdC9qsZLl10iXinQB4Y4Rq9P3KSrv29Qcls3ED1EA-jIxie9cheh2pG3TJxJKJuGb0Cz8Vyri1vLAX75BpaFPdh893-ZxofPLTZ3IulVNhf4/w572-h640/thumbnail_IMG_6709.jpg" width="572" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS3vvoUbL5ZPTMqwQzYPBXBdvXHBBWbGuuvLMMKeGY-6ChxMmqxFkbpQrjqaEWi56JUrtjiOc-Bt2bf7sF8BTaPMrP8k9TFgZAules4DauWYFxEfYFKbyF0xbs0lh-8JWhGSAHaGPbJ_V8ZHOosKCcCO9Rni3xR53IOchqO-ipi2V1l4BW2kdlDlkhaUs/s541/Sarah%20Pine.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="541" data-original-width="387" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS3vvoUbL5ZPTMqwQzYPBXBdvXHBBWbGuuvLMMKeGY-6ChxMmqxFkbpQrjqaEWi56JUrtjiOc-Bt2bf7sF8BTaPMrP8k9TFgZAules4DauWYFxEfYFKbyF0xbs0lh-8JWhGSAHaGPbJ_V8ZHOosKCcCO9Rni3xR53IOchqO-ipi2V1l4BW2kdlDlkhaUs/w286-h400/Sarah%20Pine.jpg" width="286" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">She started playing basketball in elementary school and only continued to improve. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">It was also then that she began to show signs of eventually outgrowing Gin (who had already passed me) in height. In middle school she had developed as a leader on the basketball court, not to mention academically. She was selected to play on the H. S. varsity team as an eighth grader. She told me that one of the highlights for her during that eighth grade year was playing in a regional tournament at Louisiana College in Pineville, La. This said so much about her skill of the game.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">In early February 1965, Floyanne and I made a bus trip to New Orleans where I knew I would meet the man I was to marry. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">It was through the daughter and son-in-law of the lady I lived with, Mrs. Mary, that this</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> arranged blind date was made. I told you God was working His plan, and I was right; he was the one.</span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYQndzvPFTM4Bc3fe0DxBE_zay31-6BFHWkWd0ebHxjmfOONQEQxSHKAHG0stsDtzyWP7lRsEzwgDNR_MoyIrhpiV-WQUA2yhJ4TEE-yVJQjtUtgoFXuBohvMwXTnKllQCVQNgl5mXlVmaWYnbfRTCLyixiyQbx-7aPQWRJbRao8_ZNuMzL19BJu5QJwY/s1245/1st%20trip%20to%20Kentwood%20shortly%20after%20meeting.jpg" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="973" data-original-width="1245" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYQndzvPFTM4Bc3fe0DxBE_zay31-6BFHWkWd0ebHxjmfOONQEQxSHKAHG0stsDtzyWP7lRsEzwgDNR_MoyIrhpiV-WQUA2yhJ4TEE-yVJQjtUtgoFXuBohvMwXTnKllQCVQNgl5mXlVmaWYnbfRTCLyixiyQbx-7aPQWRJbRao8_ZNuMzL19BJu5QJwY/w640-h500/1st%20trip%20to%20Kentwood%20shortly%20after%20meeting.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, I made the dress I'm wearing.<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">On Sept. 4, 1965, Dick and I were married at the First Baptist Church of Pine Prairie following a whirlwind, distant courtship after having met on that blind date in New Orleans. He was in his final year of receiving a Masters Degree in Church Music at the N. O. Baptist Theological Seminary. And the rest is for another story and another time.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzP3R1efjCI41xZ1vjGBEMpf-Ze9G9v5GAcgpNeLihHxn3jPs4MzXkWFba19GNyG6pH0mUvRo7au9QWAWwscOg5mHgI6ulq6cInPO8SoIdIewm_NGY5b9pVEYII00Y3j5AHQNl7jSEnI_XY9Y18bpNBQF3at3C6PUzlpZnELjssPisRP-rLHphGWT-GVI/s1600/Wedding%20Collage.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzP3R1efjCI41xZ1vjGBEMpf-Ze9G9v5GAcgpNeLihHxn3jPs4MzXkWFba19GNyG6pH0mUvRo7au9QWAWwscOg5mHgI6ulq6cInPO8SoIdIewm_NGY5b9pVEYII00Y3j5AHQNl7jSEnI_XY9Y18bpNBQF3at3C6PUzlpZnELjssPisRP-rLHphGWT-GVI/w640-h480/Wedding%20Collage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">In 1967, after six years of fruitful ministry, rearing and releasing two teenage, now young adult daughters, and a third daughter still in the home, the Lord did the strangest thing. He actually called Mom and Dad back to where this story began, as pastor of Calvary Baptist Church in Bayou Chicot.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">And that is where this story will pick up next Monday.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="85" data-original-width="140" height="86" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjThkQ3geDj5iiveEGhDZ3n47usipcfUCv-dmw2DzQc57m6OOVwo2yxw2eHTWMRu1wMAb71C3-G78BpKffGICXAqUIfhCp-zSPkX0yo6loKam-a6TFHFYcnXl54sMxVnlliUqhpQkgt49E/s1600/libby+sig+140.png" width="140" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/06/the-lazenbys-story-introduction.html">The Lazenby's Story - Introduction</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/06/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-1.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 1</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-2.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 2</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-3.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 3</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-riverview-part-4.html">The Lazenby's Story - Riverview Part 4</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-pine-prairie-part-5.html">The Lazenby's Story - Pine Prairie Part 5</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-6.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 6</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/bayou-chicot-history-part-7.html">Bayou Chicot History Part 7</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/bayou-chicot-history-part-8.html">Bayou Chicot History Part 8</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/bayou-chicot-history-part-9.html">Bayou Chicot History Part 9</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/calvary-baptist-church-history-part-10.html">Calvary Baptist Church History Part 10</a></div></div></div>Elizabeth "Libby" Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17145264016754286426noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689804938550827918.post-42723102352388222612023-07-17T05:30:01.049-05:002023-08-28T10:18:42.797-05:00The Lazenby's Story - Riverview Part 4<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: center;"><b>1958</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="text-align: center;">On a very unusually cold 17-degree day </span><span style="text-align: center;">in December </span><span style="text-align: center;">for Central Louisiana, the Lazenby family moved into another parsonage next door to another church. This time though there were no good-looking college guys to sweep us off our feet.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="text-align: center;">Gone were the days of playing in the woods, riding bikes and climbing trees. There were no longer familiar faces we called aunts, uncles and buddies. In one day and a moving van, our lives began another wonderful adventure.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="text-align: center;">We moved to the Riverview Baptist Church outside Alexandria, La on Hwy 1. It was a congregation similar to the one we had left, without the history. The folks were very friendly and open and welcomed us immediately.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzFEh0ukb6CihJxFTDC4TZDN827ZUyjFXRsAxGV-FH7g37KAvcIfn7woaCZLor5NP7tNnrtHlKCBJvGwZ5FQOM_G3ALEaR70fA7-a6UMzi9Ace6krbSr7YB59-Fq9RX3l8qzQFpwmGPCgY_nI9I2hnZy4r12DVEXT5l8ILw2Z4fkTd2jMUJ8WmSbEsH4U/s472/Riverview%20BC%20-%201959%201.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="328" data-original-width="472" height="444" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzFEh0ukb6CihJxFTDC4TZDN827ZUyjFXRsAxGV-FH7g37KAvcIfn7woaCZLor5NP7tNnrtHlKCBJvGwZ5FQOM_G3ALEaR70fA7-a6UMzi9Ace6krbSr7YB59-Fq9RX3l8qzQFpwmGPCgY_nI9I2hnZy4r12DVEXT5l8ILw2Z4fkTd2jMUJ8WmSbEsH4U/w640-h444/Riverview%20BC%20-%201959%201.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="text-align: center;">The church building was an old two-story with steep steps up to the 2nd story front door. From the picture provided me above, they had obviously enclosed the steps some time later and added siding over the asbestos. They now have a new relocated church building but this one still stands and the original steps have been uncovered; the parsonage is long gone.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimxKtjzqNMBPauc0FkyFG1u54b_se2oNDvyg0xhcf_8QKe4roSf5SB_v3lzyyykjbV4ZShHG5Nhh7jKA_l2t6FDS3cHxWeDjRMIzV6kaS1L0gDUnLZOxVuVT1QhzYFYSkQewQ9dtK68pwzSYzDD_8-ePXRB7eCkjB4r-ewWqh1gQquNzixOPsbZ8FoLBs/s493/Riverview%20Parsonage%201959.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="405" data-original-width="493" height="526" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimxKtjzqNMBPauc0FkyFG1u54b_se2oNDvyg0xhcf_8QKe4roSf5SB_v3lzyyykjbV4ZShHG5Nhh7jKA_l2t6FDS3cHxWeDjRMIzV6kaS1L0gDUnLZOxVuVT1QhzYFYSkQewQ9dtK68pwzSYzDD_8-ePXRB7eCkjB4r-ewWqh1gQquNzixOPsbZ8FoLBs/w640-h526/Riverview%20Parsonage%201959.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0W4silDGpqIosUXifHxRlxVAUXIzAg14prgVrUocx9vPoq2hQtQQT6_x7A9Qa0fQHjMyU_j3b0aHm-J3CygaBL6nf3mpeviKgcQREdkADmoPCDbERTkJh9J8u1pQ89k18P-p7LbU-RHAt4t-wTV6mCbBbJ7kSP7VthiTlqzcFwh9sS9n9rmS5AkQT/s675/Riverview%20BC%20'59.jpg" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="541" data-original-width="675" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0W4silDGpqIosUXifHxRlxVAUXIzAg14prgVrUocx9vPoq2hQtQQT6_x7A9Qa0fQHjMyU_j3b0aHm-J3CygaBL6nf3mpeviKgcQREdkADmoPCDbERTkJh9J8u1pQ89k18P-p7LbU-RHAt4t-wTV6mCbBbJ7kSP7VthiTlqzcFwh9sS9n9rmS5AkQT/w640-h512/Riverview%20BC%20'59.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="text-align: center;">On our first Sunday there, a joint choir with several neighboring churches met at our church to rehearse their upcoming Christmas Cantata. The only thing I remember is walking through the front door and seeing four really cute boys on the back row who looked like they could be my age. And they were.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="text-align: center;">Floyd Davis, whose father pastored the Poland Baptist church, Lloyd and Buddy Reynaud, and Donald Ray Byrd ended up being some of our best friends. Floyd was my first-ever boyfriend and our families spent many Friday nights sharing a meal while our fathers discussed preacher matters. Floyd and I remained close friends until his death.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="text-align: center;">There were also several girls in the choir who became my best friends; it's just that they did not catch my immediate attention that first day.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Our house, near the Red River was several miles from the Poland community where we attended school. For the first time we girls rode a bus to school. I must admit though that it took us a while to adjust to the early bus schedule so Daddy had to drive us that first semester as much as we took the bus.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">These were growing years for all of us. Gin shared the following: </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">"</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Those were two and a half impressionable years. </span><i style="font-family: verdana;">I was in mid-year of my 6th grade when we moved to Riverview. It was my first time to be around new people and new kids I had not grown up with. We came to love the people quickly, made good friends and were accepted by the people in the community and school. I was even introduced to the idea of a boyfriend; as Daddy would say, 'idea only'."</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>"I was also introduced to what would become my love of basketball that lasted throughout high school. I was especially proud to be selected as the 8th grade Spring Maid in 1961, as Lib had also been chosen when she was an eighth grader. Mom made my formal out of light blue chiffon to 'match my eyes'."</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSA9z4aPeujZaAAAsZbKCeVXL_BDi2MTF_a2kyL0iRDpoJNpaplXl2TdJxSNdHAKDYxTf1ubJmncAkgQm0atF9CyPZ81wpinucLubSJGWadEFgG51mLyz8NNUoPjQNLhuDUpWuT5qrd75rJmIH8vuPXSdoFrlSFOrNkw9vz4qjMip05BHLQsMmY20Vuno/s872/May%20Festival%20Poland%208th%20Grade.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="872" data-original-width="716" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSA9z4aPeujZaAAAsZbKCeVXL_BDi2MTF_a2kyL0iRDpoJNpaplXl2TdJxSNdHAKDYxTf1ubJmncAkgQm0atF9CyPZ81wpinucLubSJGWadEFgG51mLyz8NNUoPjQNLhuDUpWuT5qrd75rJmIH8vuPXSdoFrlSFOrNkw9vz4qjMip05BHLQsMmY20Vuno/w526-h640/May%20Festival%20Poland%208th%20Grade.jpg" width="526" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Yes, these were impressionable years as Gin and I moved into our teens with all the hormones and drama of which girls are capable.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We learned how to use hair rollers instead of the pin curls Mother had always done. We started shaving our legs and wore bits of toilet paper on the many cuts on our legs until we got the hang of it. We dealt with acne and dentist chairs and even had a crush on the same boy at one time. Although Gin was outgrowing me at this time, we were still able to share clothes. We learned to ride horses and we both can testify to the horror of Gin having a very close call with a run-away.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We heavily starched our homemade cotton petticoats on Saturday and by the following Friday they were in desperate need of washing and starching again. We coveted our friend's pretty full layered net petticoats until we were finally able to purchase our first ones. We wore penny loafers with white socks just like all our friends, but never had a poodle skirt. We pinned pictures of our favorite movie stars to our bedroom walls and envied their perfect coiffeurs and wardrobes.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Sarah started first grade the fall of 1959 and Gin and I became more involved with leadership roles in activities both at church and school. I will never forget my 8th grade teacher. We delighted in watching her eat school lunchroom English Peas with a knife. She rarely dropped a single one which made me think this wasn't a new occurrence for her. Some of the boys in our class put a frog in her desk drawer one day and she was not a happy lady. This probably wasn't the first time for that either. These were pranks I had never seen before, but somehow assumed she must have deserved them. She will remain unnamed but was a pretty peculiar character.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVj10zwSgF2rZ6fCaxz-xhUUj9_rsjY-w-6alS7RaYOla6pwjc6lyu8XMATEXmGXrn855Dg_PAZJ-kmt-Ktcxo1OWUZ7MAl5OTcE1kVqIg4BKYsdSozqIPxWFbSKShmuxkOtVRjtPyMwSZmn6KNlAZxgzy2VJ5U1pQAhilkZ30nz2inExMonnFRDJk5eM/s1600/Sister%20Collage%201959.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVj10zwSgF2rZ6fCaxz-xhUUj9_rsjY-w-6alS7RaYOla6pwjc6lyu8XMATEXmGXrn855Dg_PAZJ-kmt-Ktcxo1OWUZ7MAl5OTcE1kVqIg4BKYsdSozqIPxWFbSKShmuxkOtVRjtPyMwSZmn6KNlAZxgzy2VJ5U1pQAhilkZ30nz2inExMonnFRDJk5eM/w640-h480/Sister%20Collage%201959.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">In 1960, we were a pretty motley crew. Thankfully at this point, there could only be improvement. I'll never forget Daddy looking at my school picture (above) and gently suggesting that "next time, you might want to turn to the other side." I felt turning backwards was the best solution until a lot of dental work could be done.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Sarah shared these Riverview memories:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">"<i>It was there I accepted Christ as my Savior and was baptized. I attended first and second grades at Poland. Because of Daddy's great love for animals, it was during these two years that I learned that I too shared that love, a</i></span><i style="font-family: verdana;">nd I still have it. </i><i style="font-family: verdana;">We always had dogs and cats and even tried to save a baby skunk. A fond memory I have is when we would put pennies and dimes on the railroad track across from our house right before a train arrived. We would retrieve the flattened coins and Dad would drill a hole in them and put some of them on chains for me."</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit85KPWVEjd21EgWqG4e5RSvId7cL_DOnwxUinJWVohbidM0Ypdpk9Z6VuTWTZOQMIJWqK0KS8tO-ZmStk1VZbrP9yyofZjYIcAU3mcWpxE8XD0tOLoeJf40_68NszLhORB3Jx4ZFCF81IILtENe32qx6Y9ekG3moERn6OR7E4u4_3hMmsyHnvXVgTQgY/s526/IMG_6719.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="526" data-original-width="395" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit85KPWVEjd21EgWqG4e5RSvId7cL_DOnwxUinJWVohbidM0Ypdpk9Z6VuTWTZOQMIJWqK0KS8tO-ZmStk1VZbrP9yyofZjYIcAU3mcWpxE8XD0tOLoeJf40_68NszLhORB3Jx4ZFCF81IILtENe32qx6Y9ekG3moERn6OR7E4u4_3hMmsyHnvXVgTQgY/w480-h640/IMG_6719.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw6P9-erjYmk16hBex-dSo9UauPpsImX5UhaF2cg75VY7RUqItykoVm1C54-hAx0ptPSS3886QelGCXUzTa2B6PXBNA2HXGsnY7QZusgCfXVeXXfgyOahkx2-m-fKKEpbuZTNXy41eRW5_SXxR4wsKBVe3zPN3zIX-rC56OIDkf4mSmIMKHyesvp9Z40s/s596/thumbnail_IMG_6724.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="596" data-original-width="411" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw6P9-erjYmk16hBex-dSo9UauPpsImX5UhaF2cg75VY7RUqItykoVm1C54-hAx0ptPSS3886QelGCXUzTa2B6PXBNA2HXGsnY7QZusgCfXVeXXfgyOahkx2-m-fKKEpbuZTNXy41eRW5_SXxR4wsKBVe3zPN3zIX-rC56OIDkf4mSmIMKHyesvp9Z40s/w442-h640/thumbnail_IMG_6724.jpg" width="442" /></a></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Mother worked outside the home for the first time, at the Wellans Department Store in Alexandria. It was the finest store anywhere around and she was over the accessory department. Before she started that job, I had no idea what "accessories" were. She enjoyed the work and the extra income, but Daddy had to drive her the ten miles into town every day and pick her up. That meant that we girls got used to not missing the bus.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Mother's job led to my first ever job in the Wellans gift-wrapping department during the Christmas holidays. Oh my, was my supervisor strict about those corners and the amount of tape allowed. The skills she demanded are still paying off. Once in a while on Saturdays, I enjoyed going to work with Mother, then roaming and exploring the stores and the renowned Hotel Bentley. Living at Riverview had opened our eyes to "city life" and I liked it.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><span><div style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">It was at our church that I sang my first solo, "<i>I Would Love to Tell You What I Think of Jesus</i>." After that, my friend Judy Herrin became my accompanist and we used our practice sessions as an excuse to spend time together at her house. Judy was also an excellent basketball and softball player.</span></div><div style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">My favorite teacher was Mrs. Parker who taught Home Economics and also coached girls' basketball and softball. I so admired everything about her, especially her French twist hairstyle. I was determined to one day be classy enough to wear my hair in a French twist as well.</span></div><div style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm9e9FDmgJYB9MKR9hZox4rMM4EJ5utzbmjqFvsdCyyfIpIy6VvMZF4gYmtMOcHi4FRGtH7Ds1-Aooc6htJa_2d3LmDIG5KTEHPNq9hPiNNQSVnOBEyfpiLdrt_LGY82e_y5gFSNpB5vyjCx2fFG5Y515g5dEvSz_2DzX4pEWU0xeQ41NBpvJkXle_Ap4/s1170/PICT0300.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1170" data-original-width="1066" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm9e9FDmgJYB9MKR9hZox4rMM4EJ5utzbmjqFvsdCyyfIpIy6VvMZF4gYmtMOcHi4FRGtH7Ds1-Aooc6htJa_2d3LmDIG5KTEHPNq9hPiNNQSVnOBEyfpiLdrt_LGY82e_y5gFSNpB5vyjCx2fFG5Y515g5dEvSz_2DzX4pEWU0xeQ41NBpvJkXle_Ap4/w365-h400/PICT0300.JPG" width="365" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Finally, in the late 1960's I achieved my goal.</span></div><div style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;"> </div><div style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">It was </span>under the teaching and mentoring of Mrs. Ward-Steinman at Poland High School that I developed as a vocalist, if not scholastically. Both my freshman and sophomore years I went to the Parish Literary Rally and was scored high enough to compete on the state-wide level where I placed 1st in all categories. It was because of this that I was given a 2-year tuition-free scholarship to LSU.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><div style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;">In my freshman year, Donald Ray "Bubba" to me, and I were voted "Class Favorites" and for some reason I was chosen along with the really deserving boys' basketball player as "Best Sports." My family and I agreed that it must been because I fouled out faster and better than any other girl on the basketball team. I also played softball and though not the greatest batter, played a pretty mean center field position.</div><div style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: verdana; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl47JxNIVp7i3fRGPKl5DIVhnTAAUjWTcwtrxEPYposJYnSAxfP999t3GnB3ddlmpTLBc1SAUd4CGJCf410KCKNKRRcxYuJdZ6_69-UOH1AmLVs9jSdZmjVXfEmi2OyGIZBGiIeVChQzATZNzVk3jCP1RNxaGj4oZgOYWoQ6lfqXcLz4p3b2Zszfo-AB8/s1600/Collage.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl47JxNIVp7i3fRGPKl5DIVhnTAAUjWTcwtrxEPYposJYnSAxfP999t3GnB3ddlmpTLBc1SAUd4CGJCf410KCKNKRRcxYuJdZ6_69-UOH1AmLVs9jSdZmjVXfEmi2OyGIZBGiIeVChQzATZNzVk3jCP1RNxaGj4oZgOYWoQ6lfqXcLz4p3b2Zszfo-AB8/w640-h480/Collage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimiQQ0_OWXmuSXeBe12VeFaBfFNZwhpfSPSfpIcvTL-Z42A6zDZYTlJ3RV-o8BMM-c3G6qIkM5e7qeY493Di54liMrolgpcQEXI3f84XQ_2jz3t7-EPMtn27ipHaYGCB8M5dUyhU1Vyl9wbcUBnUtaAn26P07aY_emwd_Rg9JLS1XxqwzVmwgw4gKCO18/s1600/Collage%202.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimiQQ0_OWXmuSXeBe12VeFaBfFNZwhpfSPSfpIcvTL-Z42A6zDZYTlJ3RV-o8BMM-c3G6qIkM5e7qeY493Di54liMrolgpcQEXI3f84XQ_2jz3t7-EPMtn27ipHaYGCB8M5dUyhU1Vyl9wbcUBnUtaAn26P07aY_emwd_Rg9JLS1XxqwzVmwgw4gKCO18/w640-h480/Collage%202.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="font-family: verdana; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;">I was Future Farmers of America (FFA) Sweetheart my sophomore year. It was becoming evident even then, that Gin was going to be the larger of the two of us and by far the better athlete. Our last year at Poland, we both tried taking piano lessons again and after the first recital, we knew we were better in the sports field than on the piano bench.</div><div style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;">Dad was involved in associational and state-wide denominational work while meeting the needs of a faithful congregation, and mother continued to be very involved in state missions and the leader of Girl's Auxiliary (GA) mission program at our church. Gin and I attended GA Camp both summers we lived at Riverview. These camps were the first occasion we had had to be away from home by ourselves. Gin was much more outgoing and adaptable than I was and enjoyed every minute. I was always glad when it was over.</div><div style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;">Gin and Sarah, as well as Mother found their best friends in our church and in the same family. Miss Edith Stewart and Mother could have been sisters and made an immediate bond. Her oldest daughter was Kathy who was a year younger than Gin and they loved each other immediately and played middle school basketball together. (See more about Kathy below) Sarah was a year older than Jackie the youngest, and they were together at every opportunity. There really were some special people at Riverview who had a life-long impact on our lives, for which we will always be grateful.</div><div style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;">One special Riverview memory for me was driving the motor on our little fishing boat while Daddy strung and checked his fishing lines carefully placed across the Red River. He taught me to throttle the motor with the exact speed he needed to pull the heavy lines filled with catfish out of the water, then to bait and set them again. Looking back this could have been a very dangerous experience, but thankfully at the time it only meant spending time with my dad.</div></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Another memory is learning to drive our little Fiat with a standard gearshift. Daddy had me make circle after circle around the church. He even propped tires against the back of the church to keep me from destroying it and/or the car, but also to teach me to parallel park. I have always been grateful for his patience in teaching me to be a good defensive driver in spite of my love for speed.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">At some point, Dad bought a Pontiac Bonneville Sedan. It was green and black, and I thought it was the prettiest and definitely the fastest car I had ever seen. That is until my boyfriend's father bought him a '1960 Chevrolet Impala. Now that was a cool car.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">How about another Beebo story. Sarah referred to this earlier. One day Beebo walked up to Daddy with something in her mouth. When she dropped it, Dad thought it was a kitten but then saw a tiny white streak down its back. Yes, it was a skunk. Nothing would do but that we keep it. Dad built a cage for it but it spent most of its time in the hands of one of us girls. It stayed on the back porch of our house until Mother decided it was time to release it before it released on us. That was a sad day, especially for Sarah.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirpsG7sTKprNpAfhh-lzk1EhypCJehT_7u9ni42D4oVtr1UiECEtYfB8Fr2lhWJwM5aOFHD6glS55Cww7jyUlbkrczp-l7TJ2ofbhtHHo4tLIvP_37KCW4QByIS1ujpJZG0-cWrrRFakCLLAIuivTnMQaxGXz5OKSQ3rt2Yy1hoSTkF62XDwDPAd89/s1471/thumbnail_Dedication%20of%20Calvary%20Church%20Bldg.%20Mar%2013%201960.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1032" data-original-width="1471" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirpsG7sTKprNpAfhh-lzk1EhypCJehT_7u9ni42D4oVtr1UiECEtYfB8Fr2lhWJwM5aOFHD6glS55Cww7jyUlbkrczp-l7TJ2ofbhtHHo4tLIvP_37KCW4QByIS1ujpJZG0-cWrrRFakCLLAIuivTnMQaxGXz5OKSQ3rt2Yy1hoSTkF62XDwDPAd89/w640-h450/thumbnail_Dedication%20of%20Calvary%20Church%20Bldg.%20Mar%2013%201960.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">In March of 1960, the final work had been completed on the sanctuary of the Bayou Chicot Calvary Baptist Church and we were invited back for the dedication. It was a great day to celebrate all God had done through the many years to bring this new building about. In the picture above is our family including our grandmother Lazenby, and Sarah's three adopted Whittington sisters, Sherry, Jennifer and Darlene.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="text-align: center;">During this time, Dad was feeling the tug to return to Evangeline Parish. These had been two and a half good, productive, growing years for all of us. It was really hard to leave our friends and all that we were part of after such a short time.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="text-align: center;">God called us to the First Baptist Church in Pine Prairie in the summer of 1961. It was only a few miles southwest of Bayou Chicot; however, Pine had a more French and Catholic culture than we were accustomed.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="text-align: center;">Let me close with these personal stories about some of our Riverview friends and why our time there was so special. It was because of the people!</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div>A few years ago, I attended a Poland Class Reunion with some of my very best friends from there. Judy, on the lower left, my pianist from years before, reminded me of the many hours we had worked to perfect "<i>The Holy City</i>" for the Christmas program of 1959. I loved that girl. To the far right are Vera and Yvonne, and to my left is Lynda Lee. Vera and I still stay in touch.</div><div><br /></div><div>Behind Judy is Charles Lee and seated in front is Donald Ray. Behind him is Kathy Stewart Holloway, in white. Let me tell you their story.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqbynS6bsy4drsvZHnC7rGC1zaS2Nj-MNPEdYacQbhFuhg-gpi6cMq0Fce_JZW5_tUhhE8WvkDFeMZKPzReGp_9aa65IsHyrlWOIRhn-E9yeFY24YGFHtQlxvYxW4HkhYdcQObi6uljbGgR9Rt4gqujEZhGtEf0TGVkQ7fDVmmIAgrpsW3QQ_oGJ5ehhw/s812/Poland%20Reunion.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="541" data-original-width="812" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqbynS6bsy4drsvZHnC7rGC1zaS2Nj-MNPEdYacQbhFuhg-gpi6cMq0Fce_JZW5_tUhhE8WvkDFeMZKPzReGp_9aa65IsHyrlWOIRhn-E9yeFY24YGFHtQlxvYxW4HkhYdcQObi6uljbGgR9Rt4gqujEZhGtEf0TGVkQ7fDVmmIAgrpsW3QQ_oGJ5ehhw/w640-h426/Poland%20Reunion.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: center;" /><div>Donald Ray, though he never knew it, was my favorite of all the people in my class. He was, and still is, the most kind, gentle, genuinely good person I had known. His Aunt Yvonne (seen above) was one of my best friends. She called him Bubba, so I did too. By the way, it was Donald Ray who saved Gin on the runaway horse and helped her when she was thrown off it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Charles Lee told the following story at the reunion. It was an emotional time as I'd never heard this story, but it also made me so proud to have known these two boys now men.</div><div><br /></div><div>Donald Ray and Charles had always been best friends and immediately after HS graduation, enlisted in the Army. They went to basic training together, shipped out together and served in Vietnam side-by-side.</div><div><br /></div><div>On one fatal day, Charles saw a grenade shatter his friends left leg. He immediately called for a medic and got help. Even after all those years he cried when he relived seeing his friend being helicoptered away without him, and not knowing if he would ever see him again. It was the first time they had ever been apart.</div><div><br /></div><div>Charles later learned that Donald Ray had survived but had lost his leg. After being discharged, Donald Ray returned to the Riverview community, married, had a family and has successfully run the family farming business. After completing his tour of duty, Charles also returned home to Poland and they still spend a lot of time together.</div><div><br /></div><div>Kathy Stewart Holloway was and still is recognized as an outstanding Poland basketball player. <span style="background-color: white; color: #303030;">In 1965 she led Poland High School to the Class C state championship as a senior player. She was a star on the LSU women's basketball team and after coaching high school teams, </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #303030;">was the first female president of the Louisiana High School Coaches Association as well as the National High School Athletic Coaches Association. The NHSACA inducted her into their Hall of Fame in 2012, while she was elected to the LHSAA Hall of Fame in 1998. She also happened to marry my favorite college professor, Dr. Holloway.</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #303030;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #303030;">In 2021 the "<i>Kathy Holloway Women of Inspiration Award</i>" was inaugurated as a means of recognizing women in Louisiana who have shown exceptional leadership in women's sports. I can't think of anyone more deserving to have an award named in their honor than Kathy. She still lives on her family's land in Riverview and is involved in youth basketball at her church.</span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #303030;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #303030;">Yes, it is the people, not the location that make life rich and memorable. We will always be grateful to have spent two and a half years at Riverview.</span></span></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Next Monday I will take you to Pine Prairie and back to Evangeline Parish.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="85" data-original-width="140" height="86" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjThkQ3geDj5iiveEGhDZ3n47usipcfUCv-dmw2DzQc57m6OOVwo2yxw2eHTWMRu1wMAb71C3-G78BpKffGICXAqUIfhCp-zSPkX0yo6loKam-a6TFHFYcnXl54sMxVnlliUqhpQkgt49E/s1600/libby+sig+140.png" width="140" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/06/the-lazenbys-story-introduction.html">The Lazenby's Story - Introduction</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/06/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-1.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 1</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-2.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 2</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-3.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 3</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-riverview-part-4.html">The Lazenby's Story - Riverview Part 4</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-pine-prairie-part-5.html">The Lazenby's Story - Pine Prairie Part 5</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-6.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 6</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/bayou-chicot-history-part-7.html">Bayou Chicot History Part 7</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/bayou-chicot-history-part-8.html">Bayou Chicot History Part 8</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/bayou-chicot-history-part-9.html">Bayou Chicot History Part 9</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/calvary-baptist-church-history-part-10.html">Calvary Baptist Church History Part 10</a></div></div>Elizabeth "Libby" Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17145264016754286426noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689804938550827918.post-37066908224987708072023-07-10T05:30:00.389-05:002023-07-10T05:30:00.149-05:00The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 3<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Last time, I left you with a story that wasn't very nice and neither was it very Christian. That is probably why I still remember it so well. Probably a lot of us have encounters that we would like to have a do-over for. We can't go back and undo that event with Jerry, but we do know God's forgiveness. From that experience I have been determined to love others as I know God has loved and forgiven me. In that respect, I did get a do-over.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Gin and I weren't complete tomboys and </span>mischievous little preacher's kids; we could also be little angels when called for.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgjUmolsk4-q8m6NZg-3U-sstUnFtNcXXIBcmVn5qxYTJH49-i8UGPeL88ajCNlp5FJ1VouXoznUInLYU_pgu42cIZ7-btKqy_xHsPaY5m4-by3X3nyCMDRI3kMzWstbP1XJ_t4brkcjTQjlYSQ3nXNSIDjY97ZiAxSzvKfj8sEUxN7OVUiA5_PJ0iFYI/s1600/Angel%20Collage.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgjUmolsk4-q8m6NZg-3U-sstUnFtNcXXIBcmVn5qxYTJH49-i8UGPeL88ajCNlp5FJ1VouXoznUInLYU_pgu42cIZ7-btKqy_xHsPaY5m4-by3X3nyCMDRI3kMzWstbP1XJ_t4brkcjTQjlYSQ3nXNSIDjY97ZiAxSzvKfj8sEUxN7OVUiA5_PJ0iFYI/w640-h480/Angel%20Collage.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Gin did ask for and got a holster and two play pistols for Christmas one year. I asked for and got a paint-by-number set. We were both thrilled, but I did secretly wish I had thought about asking for guns instead.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjANUIJ55XV-jlb-34DXpQNxoykF79dpOXKIpBMPXdaFnHzN5GZIwA6penrFxoUkCZUrneJ1ON4btMV6BVBZSn5hj5LaIhjRdT3O4Y-BZf6Xvr1Nxgju_R2pJVtPE-e8MaBB6AOkaF0KtssCdjNuRVAZ0qPo8mYJ_thdpjkA77LTBW8RIpJOpCQrDr6oyM/s704/2006-02-04%2008.32.22-1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="704" data-original-width="544" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjANUIJ55XV-jlb-34DXpQNxoykF79dpOXKIpBMPXdaFnHzN5GZIwA6penrFxoUkCZUrneJ1ON4btMV6BVBZSn5hj5LaIhjRdT3O4Y-BZf6Xvr1Nxgju_R2pJVtPE-e8MaBB6AOkaF0KtssCdjNuRVAZ0qPo8mYJ_thdpjkA77LTBW8RIpJOpCQrDr6oyM/w494-h640/2006-02-04%2008.32.22-1.jpg" width="494" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">And this is how close we lived to the back of the church. Told you!</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I particularly enjoyed playing dress up and our Aunt Thyra helped feed my fancy for pretty shoes. Obviously at this point, pattern matching wasn't a big deal but wearing lipstick and a broach on a swimsuit top was.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Being a small community where everyone knew each other - if not related - there was always someone hosting a gathering. Even though we were not a Cajun community, there were traditions that had been carried down for generations. Mardi Gras, was always the biggest community gathering. Let me tell you about one.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Early in the morning of Fat Tuesday, always a holiday, the parents met at the school lunch room near our house. While the parents began cooking salads, rice, gumbos and other Cajun dishes, we kids would get on a trailer pulled by someone's tractor and go throughout the rural community asking for donations. The routine went something like this: We would pull up to someone's house and we kids would start singing "<i>Tont', tont' the Mardi Gras, give us a chicken and we'll go home</i>." This would be repeated over and over while the homeowner went to the yard, got a chicken, rung its neck, put it into a feed sack and gave it to the driver, or give us whatever they could. Then we went to another country home and repeated the process. I now realize that it was probably the same people donating every year and were ready for us. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">After it was determined we had enough, we would go back to the school where there were pots of hot water ready for plucking and cleaning the chickens before adding them to various pots of roux.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">One year, someone had caught a huge logger head turtle that morning and used the meat to make the most delicious turtle sauce piquante. That was the first and last time I recall eating turtle. For you non-Louisiana folks sauce piquante is </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #040c28;">a spicy, tomato-based stew made with any type of meat; the operative word being spicy.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">There weren't any floats or parades, no one hollering to be thrown beads and certainly no drunks at our celebrations. Of course, ours was not the Cajun way of celebrating Mardi Gras, but after all, these folks weren't Cajuns.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">In 1955 we went into a building campaign to construct a new church building that would meet the needs of our people and the community. It was a large undertaking that was done in phases and lasted several years. I am going to tell you more about this church in a future post, but let me give you a bit of information here.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The Calvary Baptist Church was established in 1812 and still is the oldest Baptist Church still in existence west of the Mississippi River. There was one established earlier further south, but its doors were closed a short time later.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEx_QR7i6hfk4RtEYSTMdIf5kB-MLrMs2mJKF65wA4WBFY1Troffq1fE_ISoj-1gGqIdzuHZJ4XriwVgz2__RGOCnhzgX2GWJ9PtOqlwQQHVG3RKWG_szMi187jSOzKHdvUKgCIrTuieo0p2BTn4DomtgIcFeOvon8yPm5NzFgV5LZcCWub8TYcMfidmQ/s230/Calvary%20Baptist%201939.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="136" data-original-width="230" height="378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEx_QR7i6hfk4RtEYSTMdIf5kB-MLrMs2mJKF65wA4WBFY1Troffq1fE_ISoj-1gGqIdzuHZJ4XriwVgz2__RGOCnhzgX2GWJ9PtOqlwQQHVG3RKWG_szMi187jSOzKHdvUKgCIrTuieo0p2BTn4DomtgIcFeOvon8yPm5NzFgV5LZcCWub8TYcMfidmQ/w640-h378/Calvary%20Baptist%201939.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">This is the church that was there when we moved to Chicot. It looked very much as a lot of country churches did in that era except for having the original sills and flooring from the one built in 1845.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu_IIpO4ZqIPXABHoh3TiI0Q_lNAzACKv03_trRQ9LCZZ3TCUwc7SU2r8iBp23Lexrzvd-H-PMIl3j4IzHFiT0f02MjDrmTYxAhhqsIqQJoFtbWUpzJQC3fgJWB1lvKYPfRlTE6i32xKw1XtlY2hqnGX1S-p0SIKchyOMGXvgl-Dso3WGrUBS_f0nU/s800/Calvary_Baptist_Church_in_Bayou_Chicot.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="532" data-original-width="800" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu_IIpO4ZqIPXABHoh3TiI0Q_lNAzACKv03_trRQ9LCZZ3TCUwc7SU2r8iBp23Lexrzvd-H-PMIl3j4IzHFiT0f02MjDrmTYxAhhqsIqQJoFtbWUpzJQC3fgJWB1lvKYPfRlTE6i32xKw1XtlY2hqnGX1S-p0SIKchyOMGXvgl-Dso3WGrUBS_f0nU/w640-h426/Calvary_Baptist_Church_in_Bayou_Chicot.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Dad did the floor plan and a large part of the actual building of the new church. The educational unit was first and as money was available the sanctuary was added. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Eventually the old church that had stood in front of our house since 1939 and where both Gin and I had accepted Jesus as our Savior and were baptized was torn down.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Let me share another personal childhood story relating to this.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;">A large limb on the enormous ancient oak in our back yard is where our rope swing was attached. We could do all sorts of tricks on that piece of smooth wood tied to the end of the rope. We were regular acrobats. It was decided with some of our friends, to create an acrobat performance for our parents. Since our church was trying to raise funds to complete our new building, we agreed to charge an entrance fee with the proceeds going to the fund. We may have even envisioned there being a plaque on the wall one day acknowledging our generous contribution.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Each of us worked until we perfected our best trick(s). All the parents showed up and pretended to be aghast at the talent of each performer and paid the ticket charge - maybe 25 cents or whatever the parents could afford. Of course Mother had refreshments afterward and the show was a big success. Alas, no plaque.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Another tree story but it's mostly a Daddy story:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Our house was surrounded by large oak trees and we loved to climb and pretend. There was one particular tall tree in the yard that had no low-hanging branches like the others did. I wanted to climb it but there was nothing to hold on to, so Dad put a ladder against it so I could reach the lowest branch. Then he created a large disk that he had marked with navigational dials and buttons. He nailed it to the tree trunk above a sturdy limb so it would turn. He told us "<i>Now you can steer your plane where ever you want to go.</i>" It even had a reverse - the first of its kind. And fly we did!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">For complete transparency and because it is still a fun memory for Gin, I am going to share this story. We had one of those '50's contemporary chairs that had a metal frame with a canvas seat. It was a favorite chair because we could just curl up in it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Perhaps it was Gin's turn to sit in it, I don't remember, but she evidently was mad at me. Now understand I was the older and dominating sister; she was the middle sweet and pleaser child. Anyway, she crawled around the room unseen and once under the chair, stuck a pin through the cloth and into my behind. We were never allowed to use the word "butt" so I won't start now, but that's where the pin was embedded. I do definitely recall the shock, not to mention the pain. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Of course once Gin got out from under the chair and I recovered, there was a wild bout of chasing and no doubt high pitched screaming around the house until the adults in charge put a stop to it. It wasn't funny to me for a very long time because it meant I had been had. But this and one other occasion, let me know Gin was no longer going to put up with her big sister's domination. Good for her!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;">In June of 1957, our Lazenby cousins, Jerry and Mike made their first trip to visit us. We had a great time exploring the woods, playing games and having casting rod competitions. Mom and Dad had planned a trip to the Gulf Coast in Cameron, La. for the 27th so we could all see a beach for the first time. Mother had made a huge basket of prepared food to last us for the day. Little did we know that one of the deadliest hurricanes in U.S. history was headed to the very location we had planned to be on that exact day. Without the ability to forecast such storms back then, we knew nothing about Hurricane Audrey until it hit the Louisiana coast and quickly moved over us with 125 mph winds and torrential rains. Over 400 lives were lost and millions of dollars of damage done. Cameron was completely destroyed.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;">It could have been a very frightening time without power and trees and limbs falling all around us, but Mother and Daddy kept us entertained and well fed from the picnic basket. I feel sure Mike and Jerry's parents were more alarmed than we were.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We had an interesting story happen during the time immediately following the hurricane that tells you a lot about our parents and especially mother.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Because of the massive flooding as a result of the torrential rains, there were many, many people in our area without a place to live. Dad and many of the men in our community used their boats for days trying to rescue as many as possible. Daddy brought home an elderly couple who gave us something to talk about for years.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;">They were very rural and, let's just say uncouth. At night we would sit around lanterns and candles because we still had no power, and listen to them talk about their life which was fascinating for us girls. The problem was, the man dipped snuff and would spit on the floor. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">It is probably good to inform you here that our mother was an immaculate housekeeper. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Every time he would spit, Gin and I would look at mother to see her reaction.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We couldn't believe she didn't kick him out of the house the first time it happened. She sure would have had some stiff discipline for us if we had done something like that. She did nothing! Until they went to bed. Then we saw her disgust and all of us stayed up scrubbing the entire hardwood floor and furniture until it shone and smelled like whatever disinfectant was available in those days.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Thankfully he spent the daytime outside, but the next night she politely handed him a container in which to spit. I'm not sure he had ever had to do this before. This continued until they were able to return home and it could not have been soon enough for Gin and me. Just know though that the entire house was cleaned and sterilized from top to bottom the minute they were gone.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;">This story and oh so many more, tell you about our parent's heart. They loved people and when they saw a need they did what they could to meet it. This also meant taking in a local teenage girl who was living in an abusive home. Ethel lived with us all of her senior year in high school and became our big sister. She was considered part of our family until her death. Gin and I still think of her with great fondness.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The summer before I entered the eighth grade, I was invited by some friends to a boy/girl party. I had already attended one where some of the kids played a new game, "Spin-the-Bottle." This was all new stuff to me, but I had a pretty good feeling that would be the game of choice for this party too. I also knew there would be dancing, which we did not do. I chose not to share all of this when I asked permission to attend. Some things you don't have to tell your parents; they just know. Needless to say, I was upset at being told I couldn't go and I feel sure there was a bit of drama. When Dad saw how upset I was, he explained that there were some things young girls just didn't need to do, but if I wanted to dance, he'd be my partner. He put on a record and waltzed me all around the house because neither of us knew how to jitterbug. Besides, we didn't have a jitterbug record in the house. Oh how I loved that man. That was our daddy.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">In 1949, we were emigrants from the northern part of the state. In 1958, almost ten years later, we belonged to the south central part of Louisiana. Bayou Chicot had become both home and family and had provided security, freedom to grow and explore in so many ways. We had not only grown numerically, but bonded as a little family in that safe place. However, God had more to teach and doors to open.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">In December of that year, 1958, Dad accepted the call to pastor Riverview Baptist Church. It was located north of us and just east of Alexandria, La, in the center of the state. We moved </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">during the Christmas holidays. </span>I was in the 8th grade, Gin the sixth, and Sarah yet to start. I will tell you all about that move in the next edition.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="85" data-original-width="140" height="86" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjThkQ3geDj5iiveEGhDZ3n47usipcfUCv-dmw2DzQc57m6OOVwo2yxw2eHTWMRu1wMAb71C3-G78BpKffGICXAqUIfhCp-zSPkX0yo6loKam-a6TFHFYcnXl54sMxVnlliUqhpQkgt49E/s1600/libby+sig+140.png" width="140" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/06/the-lazenbys-story-introduction.html">The Lazenby's Story - Introduction</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/06/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-1.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 1</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-2.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 2</a><br /></div></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div></div></div></span></div></div>Elizabeth "Libby" Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17145264016754286426noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689804938550827918.post-69738810243029048442023-07-03T04:30:00.028-05:002023-08-28T10:18:25.750-05:00The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I last told you that our life in Bayou Chicot was in many</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> ways idyllic. Today I will share some reasons it was just that, even though it may be difficult for some of you to imagine why I would describe it so after reading this post. For us girls though, remembering and reliving these experiences hasn't changed our opinion one bit.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">In writing this, I have come to see that sometimes it is the most seemingly insignificant incidents at the time, that create the most meaningful memories.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNYHzelOJBmVygbS8yizaGNFbjHv30DM46DmfA_l6kZXlspWtFrJCcgoeGfjZ1NyRJ90l_QTjoR9sTJdo4yDj-L2MiwvIfE55fT0RbnjKmncU0OptyqGpfNuSqCRZ7hKDfndmgwdj-z4anLR15NszAhKPAcDLnQJzuUiDab7FPC_Khn2labPlJ4fDd/s640/Daddy%205.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNYHzelOJBmVygbS8yizaGNFbjHv30DM46DmfA_l6kZXlspWtFrJCcgoeGfjZ1NyRJ90l_QTjoR9sTJdo4yDj-L2MiwvIfE55fT0RbnjKmncU0OptyqGpfNuSqCRZ7hKDfndmgwdj-z4anLR15NszAhKPAcDLnQJzuUiDab7FPC_Khn2labPlJ4fDd/w512-h640/Daddy%205.jpg" width="512" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div>Daddy had plenty of space to garden, an office where he could read and study to his heart's content. Most of his meditating time though was done outside in his garden. He had the most prolific gardens with plenty of produce for us and to share. He had a workshop where he began his love for woodworking. Some of his projects were done out of necessity, others from sheer enjoyment of doing something creative with his hands.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWkrxwvkcRc4Qw6Xd8tFKVf8jTTKC5ur3dsIYY1ANJHrVF1SF5CytiYRGVBa6F8fqg0D7dJXv6Y9FmTjyE-yE-DnL4UGP87PKuqXmb_7ZHE96SHMHSEP2nGZ1H1fPxmfJyuNK_rMlXahYUJgPIfNasd_QkrBIGcmaWWeYjAfZAeeAsTCL9Dfbgmf5W/s589/Daddy%206.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="589" data-original-width="474" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWkrxwvkcRc4Qw6Xd8tFKVf8jTTKC5ur3dsIYY1ANJHrVF1SF5CytiYRGVBa6F8fqg0D7dJXv6Y9FmTjyE-yE-DnL4UGP87PKuqXmb_7ZHE96SHMHSEP2nGZ1H1fPxmfJyuNK_rMlXahYUJgPIfNasd_QkrBIGcmaWWeYjAfZAeeAsTCL9Dfbgmf5W/w516-h640/Daddy%206.jpg" width="516" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Dad hunted and fished and shared his faith in the most consistent and unobtrusive manner wherever he went. Knowing of his standing in the community, <span style="font-family: verdana;">Edwin Edwards </span>visited Dad seeking his support for one of the local Democratic candidates. They hit it off well and in fact, Dad really liked him. It was later he decided that party wasn't his kind of politics and voted pretty much Republican instead. Many an Evangeline Parish politician tried to bargain for his support, most to no avail.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikWcUte4BaRGeiQJM4BN6oKA_8VDkaDJf_DnJpb6dOZYQ-Ko62ou5KkhgQJEu9X4_9Arlj5QgDfkNmCG6rhPj3eiMIxaNdnXgvYWEiLOgVAcTkWVJ5lKafPSDRfO_IEfYfihRDkRWjAXAoyhtvxw3MWuLyxhbv4eY1x89DiMkOsMOxT2_qKtpL8JX9EfQ/s1928/Baptist%20Hospital%20Chaplan.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1523" data-original-width="1928" height="506" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikWcUte4BaRGeiQJM4BN6oKA_8VDkaDJf_DnJpb6dOZYQ-Ko62ou5KkhgQJEu9X4_9Arlj5QgDfkNmCG6rhPj3eiMIxaNdnXgvYWEiLOgVAcTkWVJ5lKafPSDRfO_IEfYfihRDkRWjAXAoyhtvxw3MWuLyxhbv4eY1x89DiMkOsMOxT2_qKtpL8JX9EfQ/w640-h506/Baptist%20Hospital%20Chaplan.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;">Daddy on far left</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">In 1953, Dad was selected along with four other pastors from across the state to be part of a new Hospital Chaplain training program at the Baptist Hospital in Alexandria. He excelled in this and was soon offered a position in Baton Rouge as the Chaplain of the largest Baptist Hospital in the state. After much prayerful and agonizing thought and debate, he turned it down. He said God had called him to be a country preacher and he didn't think God had changed his mind.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Gin and I sure tried to change it though, but it was of no use. The decision had been made. We saw our future as debutants in our </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">state's capitol go down the drain. </span> In retrospect, we know God was always in control and I can only look at my husband, children, grandchildren and great grandboys to know that He was and still is.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Dad did use the learned counseling skills in ministering to untold people through-out his years of being a pastor. He never stopped learning and soaked up information like a sponge.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">He even learned to use hypnosis but mostly used it on himself. Once, Dad was cutting tomato stakes on his table saw and one fell onto the blade and deeply speared his side. He immediately went inside, cleaned the wound and used hypnosis to control the pain and bleeding. He allowed his body to do what it was designed to do - heal itself. When I saw him a week later, there was hardly even a scar, and without stitches.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Dad had always been a smoker and when he finally decided to stop, he used this method to quit "cold turkey." The habit of reaching for his shirt pocket was greater than his desire for a cigarette, so for a while he kept peppermints there. At one period, Dad suffered greatly with t</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">rigeminal neuralgia on the left side of his face. This condition causes severe, recurrent nerve pain that in his words felt like an electrical shock. His head would actually jerk. The suicide rate was extremely high in those days, because there was no known treatment other than risky surgery to cut the nerve.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #202124; font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white;">When Dad was unable to see a doctor for three months because he failed to explain the degree of pain he was in, he used hypnosis to help him forget the pain he had just experienced in order to handle the next nerve shock. When he did see the neurologist, he was amazed that Dad had endured so long. He had never heard of what Dad had done, much less that he was able to survive. Healing, when it takes place, is a mysterious miracle. Yes, again, God had intervened in providing our Dad the positive attitude based on a deep faith, and ability to maximize the healing process. Through prayer and surrender, together they did what God designed the body to do - take care of itself.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Dad loved music and had collected several records of top hits from the 40's. Once, he rigged up a loudspeaker and played records for anyone who happened to be close to our house and the church. Of course, there weren't many, but we all loved hearing "<i>The Girl That I Marry</i>", one of his favorites going out across the empty expanse. In December we serenaded the countryside with Christmas music.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2gkHy1mcZXRTr0ydCEgJ2opyMyoQw3pcIHNPVHjIsbSROLikt0i9cIIXrzMU7Cy4HIU1ge1jl3pKezf1qf6n7GAh0Rf_rVtc4P9DrF_RC8QzLHQO7rU_bgyfIYqsUBFQcfInQllv0TOAPkX6Mq6tXRrbfoou9VIEeitG__DcPgS5JLZhlCCrU3Huk/s890/Dad%20with%20Girls%20Easter%201954044.jpg" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="890" data-original-width="856" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2gkHy1mcZXRTr0ydCEgJ2opyMyoQw3pcIHNPVHjIsbSROLikt0i9cIIXrzMU7Cy4HIU1ge1jl3pKezf1qf6n7GAh0Rf_rVtc4P9DrF_RC8QzLHQO7rU_bgyfIYqsUBFQcfInQllv0TOAPkX6Mq6tXRrbfoou9VIEeitG__DcPgS5JLZhlCCrU3Huk/w616-h640/Dad%20with%20Girls%20Easter%201954044.jpg" width="616" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The Christmas Eve before Sarah turned three, Dad climbed on top of the house and made appropriate reindeer sounds and ended with a hearty "Ho, Ho, Ho, Merry Christmas," and we are all still convinced that Santa was really there.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">A story our family was finally able to laugh about happened around 1954. A reporter from the State Baptist Convention Headquarters appeared on our doorstep with camera in hand to interview Daddy about pastoring "The Oldest Baptist Church West of the Mississippi River." The article and pictures were going to be featured in the State paper, <u>The Baptist Message</u>, that went to every Southern Baptist household in the state.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Dad was polite but less than patient with the man; nevertheless, there is a picture floating out there somewhere that we pray will never reappear, of the most pitiful looking, rag-a-muffin country bunch you have ever seen. I'm not sure Daddy had his teeth in, mother's hair and makeup for sure wasn't done, and Gin and I had been called in from the woods wearing short shorts and barefooted. Yours truly's legs were not made for short shorts or a camera and provided proof the nickname "Bean Pole" was more than appropriate. Of course, Gin always had long gorgeous legs at any age and a sweet smile, so she, adorable two-year old Sarah and Beebo the dog were the only redeeming features of that photograph. Needless to say, that feature never appeared in The Baptist Message and we give all the glory to God for not embarrassing Himself or us with that one.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Speaking of Beebo; she was a large black lab and our dad's shadow. She followed Dad's every step and took her role as Assistant </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Pastor</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">very seriously. Every Sunday she would take her position at the Church's front door and greet all attenders. A pat on her head was her greatest reward and a pass for going inside.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Beebo also was Dad's assistant in monitoring the many bird nests around our place. Dad had Martin Houses and knew exactly how many generations visited each year and when a new generation had hatched. One day Beebo very carefully scooped up a fallen baby bird with those dangerously strong jaws and brought it to Daddy. The baby was not even wet. The birds trusted Dad and allowed him to place all fallen birds back in the nests. Porter and Beebo made quite a pair.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Dad tried to teach us to play the piano by learning the shape notes in the hymnals of the day. This wasn't a very successful endeavor and I hate to think of his disappointment with what I'm sure he had dreamed would be talented and smart children. After that, he and mom drove Gin and me several miles away for a few weeks to be taught "real" piano lessons. That didn't take well either, so they decided it just wasn't worth spending money they didn't have on that experiment.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">However, much to our parents' delight, while serving in another church their teenage daughters were selected as the church "Pianists." That word is plural because we both played together. Gin played the treble notes with both hands, and I played the bass with both of mine. There were no chords, improvising, running scales and certainly no modulations. Just the notes. But, for our folks that's all they knew how to sing anyway. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">As long we could agree on what to play and the director didn't mind taking our tempo, we did well. Our favorite offertory was "Wayfaring Stranger," and the congregation heard it often. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Dad joked that he could only afford to pay for us to learn only part of the staff.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;">From Daddy we learned to love nature and music, but from mother we learned to eventually be ladies. She had an appreciation for things of beauty and doing things well and right. I have so appreciated all that she instilled in us during those early years. She and Mama taught us how to have proper manners (or else), to love reading, sewing, cooking, and even embroidery. The pillowcases on my wedding bed were ones I had done as a child.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The greatest lessons our parents taught us were by example. They lived lives of faith, kindness, selflessness and unconditional love. Their great unending love for God and each other are lessons for which we will always be grateful.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Mother made all our clothes until we left home. We even had embroidery on our little white socks to match our matching dresses. We also had welcomed hand-me-downs from our older cousins whose mother didn't sew. We were thrilled to actually have "sto-bought" clothes. It was from one of these cousins that I had my H.S. and college formal and borrowed my wedding dress from the other. The first time I actually went into a store to buy a dress was for my HS graduation. When asked about the size, all I knew was the pattern size. Country girl come to town.</span></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Mother's remodeled kitchen was where she loved to cook and entertain, and always had a pot of Seaport Dark Roast Coffee on the stove. She was happiest when folks dropped by to just visit, and there was always someone coming and going.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Gin and I spent all our waking moments either riding our bikes, climbing trees or in the woods. Dad had found some old very cheap Schwinn bikes that he rehabbed for us. Mine was red and I rode that thing for miles and miles until one day going up an incline, it came apart right in the middle. That caused quite a fall, but somehow Daddy got us both put back together and my imaginative trips around the world continued.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Mine and Gin's best friends were our exact age, Jonnie and Bit Wolf. W</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">e spent a lot of time together. T</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">heir grandmother, Ma Wolf lived right behind us and who at Jonnie's urging, told me there really wasn't a Santa Claus. It broke my heart, but I knew Ma Wolf would never lie to me. She made us both promise that we wouldn't tell Gin and Bit, and to my knowledge we didn't.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Bit still talks about the picnics Mother often planned for us that always consisted of egg salad and Vienna Sausage sandwiches. Most important to her and Jonnie though was that they were included in our family activities. Gin and Bit are still close, but Jonnie passed away a few years ago. Bit wrote a comment on a previous blog post: <span style="background-color: white;"><i>"</i></span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana;"><i><span style="color: #050505;">My years with the Lazenby family were as near to the tv shows that were so serene. Thanks for stirring up my memory of long-ago days."</span></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Gin and I made hide-outs anywhere we could find a good location, and even created a real "Dodge City" among the fallen trees after a hurricane passed through. When we weren't playing with Bit and Jonnie, two boys Gin's age were usually with us; however, o</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">ur company with Roger and Top, came to a temporary end </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">one day. Gin and I had worked so hard to rake up pine straw to create the outline of our "house" and rooms. It was quite an architectural marvel. When the boys found us in the woods, they simply stepped right over the walls with absolutely no regard for the actual entrance. That did it! We told them we could no longer be friends.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">After that, they delighted in hiding in the loft of a nearby barn and taking BB shots at us. That didn't last long either because Gin and I had no qualms about being tattle tales.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">There was never a large population of Negros living in Chicot while we were there, and there was not much mingling between the two races even though everyone was friendly. The few families Mother and Daddy knew were fine Christian people and we were taught to respect them.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Mother would occasionally have one lady she considered a friend come help her with laundry which was done outdoors in big tubs and then run through a ringer machine and hung out to dry. Mother would "pay" her with some of our out-grown clothes. She would sometimes bring one of her daughters who was my age, and we would play in the yard together.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">As I'm writing this, I realize Mother didn't really need help with the laundry. She enjoyed this lady's company and respected her. By having her over to visit and help, she could show love while also meeting her needs with dignity. It was also setting an example for us girls whether we knew it at the time or not. Thank you Mother.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Some Sunday nights after our service </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">we would sit outside and hear the Negros singing and praising from their church not too far away. We white Baptists sure didn't know how to praise the Lord the way they did.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The following story will come as a contradiction to what I just wrote; many lessons are learned after the fact.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">At some point Gin, Roger, Top and I came up with a plan to "clean up our woods." I will not take the blame for this plan, but I will not disavow it either. Please note that we were probably 8-10 years old at this time and definitely knew better. There was a nice black family who lived on a road behind our house and in order to get to the only grocery/post office/buy-anything store, they had to go through "our" woods. Usually, the shopper was the son who was about my age, At some point, someone had nicknamed him "Nigga' Jerry."</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">For us kids, it was just his name and meant no </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">disrespect.</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> Remember, this was in the mid 50's in the south and even though we didn't even know the word discrimination, much less its meaning, it was alive and well.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Anyway, we decided Jerry had no business going through "our" woods and decided to ambush him and tell him what we thought. On the anticipated day we were hiding in wait, and just as he approached us we all jumped out; however, before we could make our demands we saw he was carrying a sawed-off shotgun. The demands were forgotten and it suddenly wasn't important where Jerry decided he wanted to walk.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">This was not our proudest moment and certainly not a memory we are proud of, but it was part of life in Bayou Chicot for two Lazenby girls. Instead of Mother going to the heathens, she may have brought two with her.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Next time I'll tell you more stories about these two heathen preacher's kids in Bayou Chicot.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="85" data-original-width="140" height="86" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjThkQ3geDj5iiveEGhDZ3n47usipcfUCv-dmw2DzQc57m6OOVwo2yxw2eHTWMRu1wMAb71C3-G78BpKffGICXAqUIfhCp-zSPkX0yo6loKam-a6TFHFYcnXl54sMxVnlliUqhpQkgt49E/s1600/libby+sig+140.png" width="140" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/06/the-lazenbys-story-introduction.html">The Lazenby's Story - Introduction</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/06/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-1.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 1</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-2.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 2</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-3.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 3</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-riverview-part-4.html">The Lazenby's Story - Riverview Part 4</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-pine-prairie-part-5.html">The Lazenby's Story - Pine Prairie Part 5</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-6.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 6</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/bayou-chicot-history-part-7.html">Bayou Chicot History Part 7</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/bayou-chicot-history-part-8.html">Bayou Chicot History Part 8</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/bayou-chicot-history-part-9.html">Bayou Chicot History Part 9</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/calvary-baptist-church-history-part-10.html">Calvary Baptist Church History Part 10</a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div></div></div>Elizabeth "Libby" Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17145264016754286426noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689804938550827918.post-64088229809714612792023-06-28T07:30:00.001-05:002023-06-28T07:30:00.146-05:00Traveling Backward & Forward on the Hodgepodge<div class="from-this-side-of-the-pond-button" style="margin: 0px auto; width: 273px;"> <a href="http://www.fromthissideofthepond.com/" rel="nofollow"> <img alt="From this Side of the Pond" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrOYbCAZFE_Ni_c-CzgU2llCgpcvIqw6442jPkjXFgFPwaGLPDxNN1SBS71zSbHF7eYtepEETWvXG4rvLwvOntdHS2GcAXlR6JDtaxkmX-Tro9wjh9TWBTlcgZIBG6XciiPFRkjXIr8w/s1600/hodgepodge-button.png" width="273" /> </a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>1. What's one thing you're excited about in the coming month?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Since this Hodgepodge seems to be centered on travel, my answer to this question fits right in.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We will be flying out on July 1 for Northern Indiana to celebrate our great grandson #2's first birthday. It's hard to believe both of our baby boys are a year old already.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxgSTFmUfT-noyyTmFU-OHdDifrtAiGwZWnewM7PMXz2-4mn_TlyczwLUyLVTeI2eXArsIof3JLDWs08CXBOdWmPF7eiNUzFqzxaHne8VcOC-9xJC3eM95BJoI_MJtsvX-Zq6jDpYyi3nPWQdbSFCnr7JKAUlL_zlk7ewdeiXAdhwNRA6ELqjogZZmCr0/s2048/1%20Year.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxgSTFmUfT-noyyTmFU-OHdDifrtAiGwZWnewM7PMXz2-4mn_TlyczwLUyLVTeI2eXArsIof3JLDWs08CXBOdWmPF7eiNUzFqzxaHne8VcOC-9xJC3eM95BJoI_MJtsvX-Zq6jDpYyi3nPWQdbSFCnr7JKAUlL_zlk7ewdeiXAdhwNRA6ELqjogZZmCr0/w400-h266/1%20Year.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>2. What was your life like when you were ten years old?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I am currently compiling a series of posts about our family and the growing up years. I hope it will answer questions future generations won't think to ask. If you'd like to follow along, this is a link to the first post with a link to the 2nd.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/06/the-lazenbys-story-introduction.html">The Lazenby's Story - Introduction</a><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We lived in rural South-Central Louisiana in the earliest English Settlement west of the Mississippi River. I was a tomboy who liked to roam the woods, climb trees, ride my bike, hunt with my daddy, play games and be with my younger sister and friends; also enjoyed playing dress up, writing and painting. Life was all good.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>3. What's something from your childhood you still enjoy today?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Being creative and the occasional chocolate fudge bar.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>4. What state (that you haven't been to) do you most want to visit? Tell us why?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We have not traveled to the upper western states but have plans to spend the month of September exploring Colorado, Wyoming, Idaho, then return through New Mexico back to Texas. We will use the Lewis & Clark Trail as an starting point. After suffering through the excessive heat here - expected to be over 103 degrees with heat index over 115 today - we are hoping for some more pleasant weather that time of year.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>5. Do you like to drive? Tell us how you learned to drive.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Yes, I love to drive and am the primary driver in our family. We laughingly say that when I drive, only one of us has to drive at a time. My dad taught me to drive and started with a standard transmission. He was an excellent teacher and stressed preventive driving as much as the basic mechanics of operating a vehicle.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>6. Insert your own random thought here.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXpdWKBoRZWB0AeX8kzZ5NZg9Wabl-4yU4NL8HaPtl3W5Rv2v4gFLgmq8uCrZUofcCoXcGVc7lmi0jTyr8x2PFHGN8QuzvIFqr2STyP_XKiH2lywUqLaMvvB1rXpBjskwzmOy7hTpn2dR7mwZWqmer6XNdyh93Ho2o7W3RrlogS-yJ0xCotihSHd3_s0g/s720/LSU%20Mike%20the%20Tiger.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="720" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXpdWKBoRZWB0AeX8kzZ5NZg9Wabl-4yU4NL8HaPtl3W5Rv2v4gFLgmq8uCrZUofcCoXcGVc7lmi0jTyr8x2PFHGN8QuzvIFqr2STyP_XKiH2lywUqLaMvvB1rXpBjskwzmOy7hTpn2dR7mwZWqmer6XNdyh93Ho2o7W3RrlogS-yJ0xCotihSHd3_s0g/w400-h400/LSU%20Mike%20the%20Tiger.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><h1 class="gnt_ar_hl" elementtiming="ar-headline" style="background-color: white; color: #303030; font-family: "Unify Sans", "Helvetica Neue", "Arial Nova", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 36px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: 38px; margin: 4px 0px 0px; text-align: center;">LSU beats Florida in Game 3 of Men's College World Series to win national championship</h1></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><p style="color: #666666; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><b>Way to GEAUX LSU Tigers! What a game you played, but we are most proud of the men of integrity all of you seem to be.</b></span></p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="85" data-original-width="140" height="86" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjThkQ3geDj5iiveEGhDZ3n47usipcfUCv-dmw2DzQc57m6OOVwo2yxw2eHTWMRu1wMAb71C3-G78BpKffGICXAqUIfhCp-zSPkX0yo6loKam-a6TFHFYcnXl54sMxVnlliUqhpQkgt49E/s1600/libby+sig+140.png" width="140" /></a></div>Elizabeth "Libby" Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17145264016754286426noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689804938550827918.post-56483138134459926162023-06-26T05:30:00.214-05:002023-08-28T10:18:05.564-05:00The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">As explained in my previous introductory blog post, Dad had accepted the call to pastor the Calvary Baptist Church in Bayou Chicot, Louisiana. Our family moved from North Louisiana to this South-Central village in 1949.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="box-sizing: inherit;"><span style="box-sizing: inherit; font-weight: bolder;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="box-sizing: inherit;">By this time, the World War II postwar prosperity was starting to get underway. There were new and bigger cars and even the first</span><span style="box-sizing: inherit;"> Volkswagen Beetle - The Peoples Car, was </span></span><span style="box-sizing: inherit; font-family: verdana;">introduced that year. </span><span style="box-sizing: inherit; font-family: verdana;">Televisions and other fancy goods began appearing in people's homes.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="box-sizing: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="box-sizing: inherit;">Although prosperity was obviously apparent to some parts of the population, they hadn't yet arrived in the Lazenby household in Bayou Chicot, Louisiana.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivxlJqJr74l8dbBUkQVVvIFrQrJVnsxew5wySe6xxytn0gOQJ_h3izm2U4dSJ0td78whR4zZkQnHWo9Mv70DuM66oMzT1ccoa-i3fO2tkv1U14sARVjY54XwC-fOmaE0hifW_4DgQSV7VNpYYAaZHKZec9f1CAxFllXOzdWmPwSdMIn8SXPVHQlhWM/s532/IMG_6672.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="292" data-original-width="532" height="352" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivxlJqJr74l8dbBUkQVVvIFrQrJVnsxew5wySe6xxytn0gOQJ_h3izm2U4dSJ0td78whR4zZkQnHWo9Mv70DuM66oMzT1ccoa-i3fO2tkv1U14sARVjY54XwC-fOmaE0hifW_4DgQSV7VNpYYAaZHKZec9f1CAxFllXOzdWmPwSdMIn8SXPVHQlhWM/w640-h352/IMG_6672.JPEG" width="640" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The parsonage, owned by the church, </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">was a small two-bedroom, one-bath house. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">That meant there was a lot of sharing beds, small closets and bathroom space. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Being that the house was conveniently placed at the church's back door, also meant that the pastor was on call 24/7 and there were no excuses for the family to miss whatever might be going on.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">It was on a very warm day in 1949 that my three-year-old sister and I fell in love for the first time. Two college boys from the Chicot church came to help us move into the parsonage. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Cecil Griffith and Ronald Johnson were direct descendants from original Chicot settlers, but that fact certainly wasn't the attraction. T</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">hey were so handsome and strong, and went out of their way to be friendly with Gin and me. This five-year old was swept off her feet and remembers it vividly to this day.</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Gin and I did feel a bit betrayed when both boys married a few years later, but also felt vindicated that they had married well and that we had loved them first. Our families always remained close and they both still hold a special place in these old women's hearts.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I am going to tell you a secret that you can't tell any of the old folks who were there. Being that close to the church meant that we had additional space to play, without being irreverent of course.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Gin and I loved the deep baptistry and even used the left-over water to play in after a baptism. During the hot summers, we wished there had been more souls saved. I loved to play (carefully bang) the piano and thought I was making music until I tried to repeat what I thought was pretty for mom and dad. It was never the same the second time and the hymn I thought I was playing was never recognizable; it even sounded like banging to my own ears. Mom and Dad always listened though and told me to keep trying.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We helped Dad run-off and fold the church bulletins each Saturday. It was a lengthy process that involved him </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #282829;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">creating the original on his old Underwood typewriter, making a stencil on the blue jelly spirit duplicator, and then running the copies on the </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #282829;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Mimeograph machine</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #282829; font-family: verdana;">. This was not only a time consuming task but a very stinky one.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #282829; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #282829; font-family: verdana;">Mother always had to make the unleavened bread for the Lord's Supper. I can't tell you how many times the Lord's bread was a bit overcooked and required a few extra seconds to chew before drinking the fruit of the vine that came from the local grocery store. Nevertheless, this was a favorite time for Gin and me because we got to drink the </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #282829; font-family: verdana;">grape juice in the </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #282829; font-family: verdana;">little cups that had not been used. Did I mention not being irreverent? Not us, because we were very grateful for this observance as small children because it was the only time we had such a delicacy.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Our house was also right across the little dirt road and two ditches (where crawfish were often caught with a small piece of raw bacon on the end of a string) from the school that housed grades 1 through 12. In the fall of 1950, I started first grade and Gin got into trouble the first few days for trying to follow me.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBFeA13vDma8OrCh9o8ZEPHqOjnuDMKrzJEDV1aU1pjW6dJo_2vw01vTrBGVjX6sP2sudLnFL9hvaXyFbCSTSk2rugOwn7YgghH1LThPIYCteNhcPswl3YtdU7jyWXdghgqKB4nzO7PHldT1IBoXgL-MsCV7FpCeEYDjr7mwZH0_JnEadyiqB7neAPR3g/s465/1950.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="314" data-original-width="465" height="432" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBFeA13vDma8OrCh9o8ZEPHqOjnuDMKrzJEDV1aU1pjW6dJo_2vw01vTrBGVjX6sP2sudLnFL9hvaXyFbCSTSk2rugOwn7YgghH1LThPIYCteNhcPswl3YtdU7jyWXdghgqKB4nzO7PHldT1IBoXgL-MsCV7FpCeEYDjr7mwZH0_JnEadyiqB7neAPR3g/w640-h432/1950.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The first high school in Chicot was built in 1937 and it was in that building that we both started school, and it still stands today. Many of our teachers had been teaching long before this building existed. Yes, to us they were very old.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieWwQh0xwaA29xGInOGUos3D91HKoWPJrB2S2Nv9wWXdbIYEvlK8O4V6ndvtgNj34nV8j1wk-05RibzvF8sZaTp-f0kYH3PeqH_qYOggDgXq-0YojGRNS6sBckI1KQnNxh8A68XduettmIcoohvnFciVc0RPdHYq02sB5QJmoAQ7hNKRncaBFUi5LF/s450/Building.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="250" data-original-width="450" height="357" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieWwQh0xwaA29xGInOGUos3D91HKoWPJrB2S2Nv9wWXdbIYEvlK8O4V6ndvtgNj34nV8j1wk-05RibzvF8sZaTp-f0kYH3PeqH_qYOggDgXq-0YojGRNS6sBckI1KQnNxh8A68XduettmIcoohvnFciVc0RPdHYq02sB5QJmoAQ7hNKRncaBFUi5LF/w640-h357/Building.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">It didn't take long for Mother to realize instead of God taking us to the heathens, He had instead taken us to our new family. The people who lived in Chicot were actually descendants of the original settlers who had migrated from Europe through the early American Colonies into this new southern land of plenty. More on that in another post. These precious people soon became uncles and aunts to me and my sister and best friends to our parents.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4XVGHdaCsM9iCIR7fnSzAiulsFP_jrjDRZzyCYUSZKa4F0dm9xwpmIaeBlerD42lZ6nS-52DBoZM41JR1g2SKzh9oiYmOKnvtPYGHpjOq6tzxDIBvPGFkujNnYGQavOmTqSeHsrBnJ8cEW5FEgRZ7QDqv4-kUuIdR_JKtVd8tp9agCXJ7XrqEhpQhnwM/s1334/51%20Studebaker148.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="777" data-original-width="1334" height="372" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4XVGHdaCsM9iCIR7fnSzAiulsFP_jrjDRZzyCYUSZKa4F0dm9xwpmIaeBlerD42lZ6nS-52DBoZM41JR1g2SKzh9oiYmOKnvtPYGHpjOq6tzxDIBvPGFkujNnYGQavOmTqSeHsrBnJ8cEW5FEgRZ7QDqv4-kUuIdR_JKtVd8tp9agCXJ7XrqEhpQhnwM/w640-h372/51%20Studebaker148.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">In 1951, Daddy bought a brand new Studebaker car and Gin and I thought our family had finally arrived. We still didn't have a television or a washing machine or dryer, but that was alright because not many of the people around had those either.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">It was while taking an imaginary trip in this Studebaker that Gin, who was five and had already made a public decision to accept Jesus as her Savior, told me that I, who was 7, needed to make that decision too. It was something the Lord had been convicting me of and I knew I needed to ask Him to be my Savior. I did, and the following Sunday I walked down that country church aisle to my Daddy's smiling face and told him I had asked Jesus into my heart. Gin and I were baptized together a few weeks later. And yes, Daddy let us play in the left-over water a couple days before draining it.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">It was also in 1951 that we held the first of many Colvin family reunions at our little house in Chicot. Because of its central location it was the perfect meeting place for the siblings and cousins to meet.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBJdTyYylt7ZbSSOLNv4bqE_qr008Av-Jtz2pNT0Jce7q13HLehOLVRGGWGdpI1NZpCoeJxHElMnXB3VC_4uQPi_9Z8zM1OYCBqGYEk3P-7Y05qgqPxeUgXDQJcMYUZZZv752yH2iwGPwpDi9q1J4vZg2iEhy-TwqDN2R54AvJu3rCbjqbDw4CTeFaGsk/s849/Effie%20with%20children%20%20-%20Bayou%20Chicot.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="568" data-original-width="849" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBJdTyYylt7ZbSSOLNv4bqE_qr008Av-Jtz2pNT0Jce7q13HLehOLVRGGWGdpI1NZpCoeJxHElMnXB3VC_4uQPi_9Z8zM1OYCBqGYEk3P-7Y05qgqPxeUgXDQJcMYUZZZv752yH2iwGPwpDi9q1J4vZg2iEhy-TwqDN2R54AvJu3rCbjqbDw4CTeFaGsk/w640-h428/Effie%20with%20children%20%20-%20Bayou%20Chicot.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">A happy Mama with nine of her ten children</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi516IZbvWphhmu-f7bdmv-S44lE0FszshMlUDo38wiUiAqLjPx4iajMxfUN2oN5VeAa4XFJQKlsvpPR6olhrjAB_iht3ZUP0oyU7tQkjLdXRX1xpAWuykNjoqRJ_KpqL9tvK0eN54ioh5oPdWBg4y8MvX6A1hdIZBy4kMxG7Gs753noHj7QwO9HlHNjW8/s943/3c9da6b2-0720-45be-bad4-971cccfa5d8e.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="568" data-original-width="943" height="386" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi516IZbvWphhmu-f7bdmv-S44lE0FszshMlUDo38wiUiAqLjPx4iajMxfUN2oN5VeAa4XFJQKlsvpPR6olhrjAB_iht3ZUP0oyU7tQkjLdXRX1xpAWuykNjoqRJ_KpqL9tvK0eN54ioh5oPdWBg4y8MvX6A1hdIZBy4kMxG7Gs753noHj7QwO9HlHNjW8/w640-h386/3c9da6b2-0720-45be-bad4-971cccfa5d8e.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Mama with eight of her too-many-to-count grandchildren</span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvAXMl2hgx9nkeTm1l0EcNuyyuD1pg15z_Cwwz-ZxMnROK_re6AwfhuoClbznwYn_lvyzJ3OcVrQr9wA9C2qVPhfhMANwv3xeKXx2IWlr6L-SWWrbOedNZMCIE-MdJZl3TzjDrF0deSFPBEWuNgSQpC4jIQCDlBWDyyHWFtfPya3KSJ4fwXmb4u41K/s1266/1951.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="947" data-original-width="1266" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvAXMl2hgx9nkeTm1l0EcNuyyuD1pg15z_Cwwz-ZxMnROK_re6AwfhuoClbznwYn_lvyzJ3OcVrQr9wA9C2qVPhfhMANwv3xeKXx2IWlr6L-SWWrbOedNZMCIE-MdJZl3TzjDrF0deSFPBEWuNgSQpC4jIQCDlBWDyyHWFtfPya3KSJ4fwXmb4u41K/w640-h478/1951.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">In January 1952, Mother and Daddy gave us the sweetest little baby sister, Sarah Ruth. Gin and I were thrilled. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">With 7 and 5 years difference between us and Sarah, we quickly recognized that Sarah was without doubt the favorite child. She got away with most anything that we would have been corrected for. Now all of a sudden those very things were adorable. We now understand that is just the way it is supposed to be with the third child and especially if she really is adorable.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAeShEOh_362yNBp-1F0Q2n8ziVFv3WufMCKIwjr3d7hK4r-X5DfXM4tGIhklvQ3G6lGAh9CACL6SnfjzJkkFKeBStQJ5k864HI1ZkPTLZLy52njXFxrlH9VGD09ZwiL6X1YWlnTeOB1JsvBdiAfmPqAi87lophSrPu5fGC6IsdZLAgl7HTm4fbuYP/s640/1952%20Chicot.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="505" data-original-width="640" height="506" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAeShEOh_362yNBp-1F0Q2n8ziVFv3WufMCKIwjr3d7hK4r-X5DfXM4tGIhklvQ3G6lGAh9CACL6SnfjzJkkFKeBStQJ5k864HI1ZkPTLZLy52njXFxrlH9VGD09ZwiL6X1YWlnTeOB1JsvBdiAfmPqAi87lophSrPu5fGC6IsdZLAgl7HTm4fbuYP/w640-h506/1952%20Chicot.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> About this time the house was enlarged to accommodate a growing family, which was a blessing for all of us, especially Mother. We also got our first television set and always watched Saturday night boxing and knew the Gillette song by heart. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik2az36nz0HfBpefeXbg8Sz7TrZ9TkC1qYlEyOZ3q-LjzGmw_Wn_rb-iuK6VEUZfH7REtpOTis1aiEAbZUV9TgfgEDLwXt_qAYYzm-XOkpciiT3a2r_eyUYLfZFmPCmXg6Otx0MDtvUvEyGa97ArMeeRs40VeQSQCeQkmguzqylJhcNzAZtXUYJIfe/s516/IMG_6673.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="389" data-original-width="516" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik2az36nz0HfBpefeXbg8Sz7TrZ9TkC1qYlEyOZ3q-LjzGmw_Wn_rb-iuK6VEUZfH7REtpOTis1aiEAbZUV9TgfgEDLwXt_qAYYzm-XOkpciiT3a2r_eyUYLfZFmPCmXg6Otx0MDtvUvEyGa97ArMeeRs40VeQSQCeQkmguzqylJhcNzAZtXUYJIfe/w640-h482/IMG_6673.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOG9I6VO2MxdP0LQSLZPotdp5KOG5ag54rDzKxBlo--YWJ70LdMHkRMaKs-rAWRRpJMCoCLRTjn1iStExH1iCsKHYwTFn4P9dr5a1qjWHxsS9W8uW9GvJBjePGKNDa0S3_XL6Njh_eew2JwEwgi2VF88GK-wMsDs080oohqC2-LhLf7I1fIkprvosb-nM/s2070/Mama.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2070" data-original-width="1457" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOG9I6VO2MxdP0LQSLZPotdp5KOG5ag54rDzKxBlo--YWJ70LdMHkRMaKs-rAWRRpJMCoCLRTjn1iStExH1iCsKHYwTFn4P9dr5a1qjWHxsS9W8uW9GvJBjePGKNDa0S3_XL6Njh_eew2JwEwgi2VF88GK-wMsDs080oohqC2-LhLf7I1fIkprvosb-nM/w450-h640/Mama.jpg" width="450" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">In 1953, our Mama died leaving a huge emptiness in our home and the precious people of Chicot stepped in as grandparents as well as aunts and uncles for Sarah. She shared these thoughts:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>"The memories I have of Bayou Chicot are few but have been lasting. My earliest memory is climbing into the bed with my grandmother for her to read over and over my favorite book, "Lucky Miss Ticklefeather." It had been published the year before I was born, and Mama never minded reading to me. It was during these early years that I established relationships with church member families, especially the Whittingtons. I gained grandparents and cousins while being "adopted" by Mr. Delmont and Mrs. Elaine, adding another daughter to their three, Sherry, Darlene and Jennifer."</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinBhNEIymHdlph2Vmu4aEP4IiTWCxtfqk33KbUdgc87NNJepnSv3HphpvwrdopI9TIkchPPNHROfv86lzgG0aT2FSmi4ujtoGo7HvJZSi0tfDMp3SEqqwZcAfs0OKGYsEY_PUo1lHM2ByQJf2Iru1i4zazW4ubKozaTfYA4csXqhPXiYsPVubwyYShbpI/s1600/Collage.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinBhNEIymHdlph2Vmu4aEP4IiTWCxtfqk33KbUdgc87NNJepnSv3HphpvwrdopI9TIkchPPNHROfv86lzgG0aT2FSmi4ujtoGo7HvJZSi0tfDMp3SEqqwZcAfs0OKGYsEY_PUo1lHM2ByQJf2Iru1i4zazW4ubKozaTfYA4csXqhPXiYsPVubwyYShbpI/w640-h480/Collage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="text-align: left;">It was from his mother, our Grandmother, that Dad got his love for reading. She told us she read every single book in her school library <u>twice</u> before graduating.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSK6PMAPXqdXzATgQ3LTjY4kjPi6-NNIHgCAwsjU8UUQs5btuZj52pB7jOpyXwlwrn9yoBbAhLBzfKCX6lsUoPiGlPCtuo72D4vnBfLUvxfNteYDGzJvEGs9Fm_Il_xHwwj9_4qFrhFujW280cnETZtRY9szxqkr-q75yHQuZoD0mNxwSwWEzO2DzmrL0/s347/Grandmother%20Emma%20Lester%20Lazenby.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="347" data-original-width="274" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSK6PMAPXqdXzATgQ3LTjY4kjPi6-NNIHgCAwsjU8UUQs5btuZj52pB7jOpyXwlwrn9yoBbAhLBzfKCX6lsUoPiGlPCtuo72D4vnBfLUvxfNteYDGzJvEGs9Fm_Il_xHwwj9_4qFrhFujW280cnETZtRY9szxqkr-q75yHQuZoD0mNxwSwWEzO2DzmrL0/w506-h640/Grandmother%20Emma%20Lester%20Lazenby.jpg" width="506" /></a></div></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Our Pappy, Dad's father, died in 1948 after which Grandmother lived with her oldest son, our Uncle G and his family in Bernice. A couple times a year we would travel north to see the family and to bring her back for extended visits. These were always fun trips for us because it gave us time with our only Lazenby cousins, Jerry, Mike and Sue and we dearly loved our Lazenby family.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">It was Mike, one year older than me and Jerry, two years older, who taught us how to eat watermelons right in the field. No spoon or plate required. I hope to not embarrass him with this story, but as a small child, Mike wanted to be a log truck. Yes, you read that right. Not the driver, but the truck. He was fascinated by the big trucks that passed their house loaded with huge logs. He graciously took a lot of teasing about this through the years.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Mike and I were always accused of being the trouble makers of the foursome and I have no reason to question that. So who could have known then that </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Mike would one day be a teacher, principle, and serve as a superintendent of schools. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Jerry would own an engineering firm, building major highways and large construction projects all over the country. They both serve as deacons in their churches and have beautiful families.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Sue and Sarah were close to the same age and were content to play their sweet little girly games as children. Sarah grew up to have three sons and Sue had three lovely daughters, the oldest of whom died with cancer a few years ago. Her funeral was the last time we were together.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Oht3RlwbnnVHi0JMClvtEcUS8XqJDJ5nEuQ5KCEw1_pQX-CPguIvHYc8KqFlfng3vnjBq7B2On1vRtKE62dJvsWIy4m7w6XEDfqfHYk2YBzmTxB7Y-eYqgStqm3PifUeDXanE7enOknyTMc4-92Couizjt042BE1u26E1NFNjl_smRbYBGHSpuYLN4c/s640/thumbnail_IMG_2448.jpg" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="574" data-original-width="640" height="574" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Oht3RlwbnnVHi0JMClvtEcUS8XqJDJ5nEuQ5KCEw1_pQX-CPguIvHYc8KqFlfng3vnjBq7B2On1vRtKE62dJvsWIy4m7w6XEDfqfHYk2YBzmTxB7Y-eYqgStqm3PifUeDXanE7enOknyTMc4-92Couizjt042BE1u26E1NFNjl_smRbYBGHSpuYLN4c/w640-h574/thumbnail_IMG_2448.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We love our Lazenby family and both the fun and sad times have bonded us as a family. May we carry on the strong Lazenby legacy left to us.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Yes, life for the Lazenby's in Bayou Chicot was in many ways idyllic and I'll share more about that next Monday.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/06/the-lazenbys-story-introduction.html">The Lazenby's Story - Introduction</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/06/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-1.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 1</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-2.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 2</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-3.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 3</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-riverview-part-4.html">The Lazenby's Story - Riverview Part 4</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-pine-prairie-part-5.html">The Lazenby's Story - Pine Prairie Part 5</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-6.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 6</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/bayou-chicot-history-part-7.html">Bayou Chicot History Part 7</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/bayou-chicot-history-part-8.html">Bayou Chicot History Part 8</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/bayou-chicot-history-part-9.html">Bayou Chicot History Part 9</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/calvary-baptist-church-history-part-10.html">Calvary Baptist Church History Part 10</a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="85" data-original-width="140" height="86" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjThkQ3geDj5iiveEGhDZ3n47usipcfUCv-dmw2DzQc57m6OOVwo2yxw2eHTWMRu1wMAb71C3-G78BpKffGICXAqUIfhCp-zSPkX0yo6loKam-a6TFHFYcnXl54sMxVnlliUqhpQkgt49E/s1600/libby+sig+140.png" width="140" /></a></div>Elizabeth "Libby" Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17145264016754286426noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7689804938550827918.post-87764847520427431002023-06-19T15:52:00.007-05:002023-08-28T10:17:06.306-05:00The Lazenby's Story - Introduction<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Our story, as we currently know it to be, actually began way back in 1480 with the birth of <b><u>Thomas Lazenby</u></b> in Yorkshire, England. In the mid 1600's records show that my 7th great grandfather emigrated from England, and was an early settler of Maryland. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">At some point in the early 1700's he was the High Sheriff of Ann Arundel County in Maryland.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">My grandfather, <b><u>Oscar Gray Lazenby Sr.</u></b> and my grandmother <b><u>Emma Lester Porter Lazenby</u></b> lived in North Louisiana - Bernice in Union Parish after their first son O. G. Jr. was born in 1916. My father, <b><u>William Porter</u></b> was born there on May 15, 1919.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9fyaXef6FMBZJDbcxd3HuTHPHgzpuvODN7_Wlp3gLgmHTMPHkbWI62Y6r4xJdeubMVH1PiUKIosmj0Blyqqs_OShY0QS5QD5YX32rweSqjfOmi3EcYj8bRmGow7S7DadaUEkQIsl8IXuUJf_e2gaes4NmvlS69F9oQtCu9D80du-BwaAtCK_dwayBeuY/s702/Emma%20Lester%20Porter%20Lazenby%20-%20O.%20G.%20&%20Porter%201922.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="558" data-original-width="702" height="508" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9fyaXef6FMBZJDbcxd3HuTHPHgzpuvODN7_Wlp3gLgmHTMPHkbWI62Y6r4xJdeubMVH1PiUKIosmj0Blyqqs_OShY0QS5QD5YX32rweSqjfOmi3EcYj8bRmGow7S7DadaUEkQIsl8IXuUJf_e2gaes4NmvlS69F9oQtCu9D80du-BwaAtCK_dwayBeuY/w640-h508/Emma%20Lester%20Porter%20Lazenby%20-%20O.%20G.%20&%20Porter%201922.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkm1oqp6Eip5iZpjpM3DVl6dgcRlK6ocCmH1Yv5Lv_IeLkfzP4RaeKGz5D1X0OQ19EjKkP_LFTfrs_xf1lsbLZibPvC4F2NIjCjangK8Wie1H2sl7w_jpb5L1d0vEQLp_GYRRSO_lWUoXafI_C1n9cbc4WbSN0pWeNlxE5_S-mLxLqCBMTIHieFp9mYso/s1528/Porter%20&%20O.G..jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1528" data-original-width="1080" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkm1oqp6Eip5iZpjpM3DVl6dgcRlK6ocCmH1Yv5Lv_IeLkfzP4RaeKGz5D1X0OQ19EjKkP_LFTfrs_xf1lsbLZibPvC4F2NIjCjangK8Wie1H2sl7w_jpb5L1d0vEQLp_GYRRSO_lWUoXafI_C1n9cbc4WbSN0pWeNlxE5_S-mLxLqCBMTIHieFp9mYso/w452-h640/Porter%20&%20O.G..jpg" width="452" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">On my mother's side, </span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><u><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">John “James” Colvin</span></u></b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> was born in Devon County, England on Sept. 13,
1703, according to baptismal records. He
emigrated from Chelsea, England on Nov. 29, 1725, settling in Providence, Rhode
Island, Colonial America. My great grandfather, <b><u>William Andrews Hughes Colvin</u></b> and one of his brothers were the first Colvins to settle in North Louisiana in what is now the Dubach area. My mother, <b><u>Laura Elizabeth Colvin</u></b> was born there to <b><u>Lee "Preacher Colvin </u></b>and <b><u>Effie Ophelia Cox Colvin</u></b> on November 24, 1918, the youngest of ten children.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtCdFVRtiI8ooxEqG7vm1FxXGlNhnsLAiJLvnq-TqJ2ydBrf-8yepBPKCe16iFVqa2SP8thLOV6nDJSlQ70QaQgQWcDBkq5WFXNr_yWujctPGv2m4x9r110Ek0sf651KbjbRS1SJO392sRmLDwnkTyEKdTUTmt_Yx0gdJuJETvUH9BCOxsoNWqpBJUYYs/s2973/Colvins.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2387" data-original-width="2973" height="514" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtCdFVRtiI8ooxEqG7vm1FxXGlNhnsLAiJLvnq-TqJ2ydBrf-8yepBPKCe16iFVqa2SP8thLOV6nDJSlQ70QaQgQWcDBkq5WFXNr_yWujctPGv2m4x9r110Ek0sf651KbjbRS1SJO392sRmLDwnkTyEKdTUTmt_Yx0gdJuJETvUH9BCOxsoNWqpBJUYYs/w640-h514/Colvins.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">It is their story and hence mine, Gin and Sarah's story that I will be telling in this series I'm calling "The Lazenbys in Bayou Chicot." Let's get started.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXyASN-6b8I4zcTEI01ykiRRtI2nnKdIsrXPawvOkAb926ZnzWc35HtIyFdpabYJLJeCJyrRTdRmPAilxLKBIEC6O-ujI-TJyIan_-o3NAFJ614QeqL6J9xjGaIBcsMXd3c37Gp7UIWG3eRSpdRFqvA6hjZTLGNDrxgqBliOZT6uShwyj-3bYHYTBc/s642/Daddy%208.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="642" data-original-width="514" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXyASN-6b8I4zcTEI01ykiRRtI2nnKdIsrXPawvOkAb926ZnzWc35HtIyFdpabYJLJeCJyrRTdRmPAilxLKBIEC6O-ujI-TJyIan_-o3NAFJ614QeqL6J9xjGaIBcsMXd3c37Gp7UIWG3eRSpdRFqvA6hjZTLGNDrxgqBliOZT6uShwyj-3bYHYTBc/w512-h640/Daddy%208.jpg" width="512" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">M</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">y dad's father worked in a department store there, and they lived in a "dog-trot" house out of town on a red-clay dirt road, characteristic of that part of the country. I think the original house had belonged to my grandmother's family.</span></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7pefQ-skbxwd0jbHXPNPv0F8Hc5KrSy61u6ZuB2ssMROavgriDrB6hafx9PX1diDjbVf573L5b0KRwqIcK5MV21XCeRbeOfF6dleoMMBa9wHh0-Mbhc-_e_2Xk_wNk5z42hYdYz_E6WLeyAFUnowpI69Vuc7PHtJ1G9AhbxtIih20jvB-IkMDrHKl/s736/Daddy%204.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="736" data-original-width="542" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7pefQ-skbxwd0jbHXPNPv0F8Hc5KrSy61u6ZuB2ssMROavgriDrB6hafx9PX1diDjbVf573L5b0KRwqIcK5MV21XCeRbeOfF6dleoMMBa9wHh0-Mbhc-_e_2Xk_wNk5z42hYdYz_E6WLeyAFUnowpI69Vuc7PHtJ1G9AhbxtIih20jvB-IkMDrHKl/w472-h640/Daddy%204.jpg" width="472" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">As a young man, Dad </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">had already exhibited exceptional intellect and physical prowess. Not only did he have an almost photographic memory, and read everything he could find, he excelled at football and boxing in high school. He was very much the outdoorsman. Truly a man's man.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQvhCNEv3IUNnq-S1GcVlx3mUKhRXBPVDX2YwqWPaUwMR-RfxjqjzgiaRypxDcQDAZVUnKogOed2urZnA83WWpCyr9SCINURd21bdNATnA8aVxxci-IL7cxQ_Sg6Fq2MFY-Dvcp6uAQ6Kdr2gZFKu3Cwu-EAPGKmBfzIcdVPECXqMz7SEGWkwabRDZ/s1271/Daddy%2010.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1271" data-original-width="924" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQvhCNEv3IUNnq-S1GcVlx3mUKhRXBPVDX2YwqWPaUwMR-RfxjqjzgiaRypxDcQDAZVUnKogOed2urZnA83WWpCyr9SCINURd21bdNATnA8aVxxci-IL7cxQ_Sg6Fq2MFY-Dvcp6uAQ6Kdr2gZFKu3Cwu-EAPGKmBfzIcdVPECXqMz7SEGWkwabRDZ/w466-h640/Daddy%2010.jpg" width="466" /></a></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Dad came to know the Lord as his personal Savior at an early age. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">As a teenager, he accepted God's call to serve as what he always referred to as "a country preacher". He never questioned or wavered from that calling. He used to tell how he would stand on tree stumps and preach to the birds and any other animal that seemed interested in hearing the gospel.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">He attended the Industrial Institute & College of Louisiana, now known as LA Tech University in Ruston. He left shortly before graduating at the urging and promise of financial support by a local minister, to attend the New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary. For a country boy away from home for the first time, in a totally new world and without the continued promised funds, this was a very difficult time and he returned home before completing his degree. He did make a friend there though who would later play a very instrumental role in his life and God's plan for him. Her name was Katherine Carpenter.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">It was after returning home that he held a revival in northern Morehouse Parish in the village of Collinston. This was the beginning of him establishing the First Baptist Church there, which is still an active congregation to this day. This was also what paved the way for him and my mother to meet.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjngSZN1_tcsKtoTCrrIAzOc6wf84h6tAF41FCf-_4L-JbBj0DYo_yyKOmsjQC9noOsrzuie-FoSMlkut7mtr9KoSdCh2ZdvCamF3aouUzJFbQZ8A3q1AkJCKx81_qCcSSi1eSafNpqY5AAse3L6SoxcYXk5K8MQkDPjHB0c8UyikKpQ2oQo0BEL8zT/s405/Poppa%20Young%20Man%201.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="405" data-original-width="235" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjngSZN1_tcsKtoTCrrIAzOc6wf84h6tAF41FCf-_4L-JbBj0DYo_yyKOmsjQC9noOsrzuie-FoSMlkut7mtr9KoSdCh2ZdvCamF3aouUzJFbQZ8A3q1AkJCKx81_qCcSSi1eSafNpqY5AAse3L6SoxcYXk5K8MQkDPjHB0c8UyikKpQ2oQo0BEL8zT/w372-h640/Poppa%20Young%20Man%201.jpg" width="372" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMJzh2PwooYPoUxmWrL04vJyxAVsOb8jScPmDr4Ki1c-4biWCaASU5POaRG47F5P1K1YYUPhyuOaN-lZp3Mm7NhseEq3MnZ6BXEn3-baIO0THP2MXaGqf0oOFxA48jrVY8HRCMGMWJuSQx_y1HDzWupYoBi16QGXmuMc8fD9WjVkeUr3cOfE4C0RB3/s541/Laura%20Colvin.jpg" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="541" data-original-width="440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMJzh2PwooYPoUxmWrL04vJyxAVsOb8jScPmDr4Ki1c-4biWCaASU5POaRG47F5P1K1YYUPhyuOaN-lZp3Mm7NhseEq3MnZ6BXEn3-baIO0THP2MXaGqf0oOFxA48jrVY8HRCMGMWJuSQx_y1HDzWupYoBi16QGXmuMc8fD9WjVkeUr3cOfE4C0RB3/w520-h640/Laura%20Colvin.jpg" width="520" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Mother, the youngest of ten children, lost her father when she was seven. She was raised by her mother with help from older siblings, in a town just south of Bernice called Dubach in Lincoln Parish. As a Colvin in this town you were either closely or distantly related to everyone in the area. In high school Mother was very popular and excelled in all subjects, but especially loved Home Economics. I found an article in the area paper that declared her as a "bathing beauty." We have no reason to question this at all.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Mother told of convoys of soldier boys passing through their town and the young ladies would exchange names and addresses with some of them in the early 40's during WWII. She told of corresponding with several for a short time. She also had a steady boyfriend through high school and until she met one special guy from Bernice.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Following high school, Mother attended beauty school and upon completion was given her own shop inside a friend's drug store in downtown Dubach.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj4XidLp_8NOH-ruiK6QizUeFTzHS_hydYo9CpJLgGqw04joPa4GyPSJX_LF17dawqcMaFK82dNKKEyJAKev1cSIH2lrhGezBxaZLTqb_KpPFX9W1-hJN6BENcBDmr5J-AGp1NW9hGtnK9lzMZnn8TBtx8jchvs1ZvwmdBmSLo6oOCQPW20DBwX5qVW" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3568" data-original-width="2352" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj4XidLp_8NOH-ruiK6QizUeFTzHS_hydYo9CpJLgGqw04joPa4GyPSJX_LF17dawqcMaFK82dNKKEyJAKev1cSIH2lrhGezBxaZLTqb_KpPFX9W1-hJN6BENcBDmr5J-AGp1NW9hGtnK9lzMZnn8TBtx8jchvs1ZvwmdBmSLo6oOCQPW20DBwX5qVW=w421-h640" width="421" /></a></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">She loved to tell of her first travel experience with a friend to the New York World's Fair in 1939. She marveled at the idea of having layers of highways and handheld telephones where one could see the person they were speaking to. Gin and I could also only dream about these things as children.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzIPOM_qoaQh4J2HVnV7FRXZ0gnKsHUFWVt5MomPWJMvDmpzY1wLdeYkzil5sB5-OgKcFDJ7CztM06izzpur6qRL2qX648f8HiB1YopuehEoGzgDLb0zInuZds_s5uqrE-p1l6bMulxdOVPfJsq1lNHDEdKuOD4u8FONfqcqgno0M_ab5NwAYQ7rYQ/s541/Laura%20&%20Effie.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="541" data-original-width="408" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzIPOM_qoaQh4J2HVnV7FRXZ0gnKsHUFWVt5MomPWJMvDmpzY1wLdeYkzil5sB5-OgKcFDJ7CztM06izzpur6qRL2qX648f8HiB1YopuehEoGzgDLb0zInuZds_s5uqrE-p1l6bMulxdOVPfJsq1lNHDEdKuOD4u8FONfqcqgno0M_ab5NwAYQ7rYQ/w482-h640/Laura%20&%20Effie.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Having always been involved in the local church, it was at this time she became very involved in the Women's Missionary Union (WMU) as it's leader. It was this involvement that led her to invite a young preacher boy, who had started a new ministry in a nearby town and was in need of support, to speak at her church. This was in early 1943. As they told it, she invited him to have Sunday lunch with her and her mother. They spent the afternoon on the front porch swing and she served him her best baked apple pie. His favorite. They were married on November 24, of that year, mother's 24th birthday.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI7hA42nP1-q_7ZcmcbEADiNeGms0d61grPPhQX9heYuvqV36FxCQtdh3UDsase0o9_E8-HoSVIDFpHL4HUW4ykqLvMMtc2YcyRhANeKvQWRusjURhLQbLm8HaDLbYjqqLwUPzjAOHnjYl5R9sEZrHm5wLxoF_wvONMhwDYVp0rnBkvjMIvbcTHEZx/s541/1945.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="541" data-original-width="448" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI7hA42nP1-q_7ZcmcbEADiNeGms0d61grPPhQX9heYuvqV36FxCQtdh3UDsase0o9_E8-HoSVIDFpHL4HUW4ykqLvMMtc2YcyRhANeKvQWRusjURhLQbLm8HaDLbYjqqLwUPzjAOHnjYl5R9sEZrHm5wLxoF_wvONMhwDYVp0rnBkvjMIvbcTHEZx/w530-h640/1945.jpg" width="530" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="text-align: center;">When I, Elizabeth Claire "Libby" was born a year later, </span>Dad was pastoring a small country church not far from where both my parents had lived, called Fellowship Baptist Church. When I was two years old my sister, Virginia Kay "Gingie" was born.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgksi_JOAXzBiBiLq6ru1ytvdyzaApAI4lgc958_W1Wf2dhnW-ST6YRxm2q-TfzRM-yWPWD-qZGHKKQvD-SrtqR-Rn_6VZvGWFRDSuwUAicKB5AKtVfwJIbk_3Zp5vzq5psbp9ZeQSoVJ2DkG_zfVdtfJvs7sTHfbtKDwBuqjbBE8SWlTe5h4kLJKXY4Nc/s460/Libby%20&%20Gin.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="398" data-original-width="460" height="554" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgksi_JOAXzBiBiLq6ru1ytvdyzaApAI4lgc958_W1Wf2dhnW-ST6YRxm2q-TfzRM-yWPWD-qZGHKKQvD-SrtqR-Rn_6VZvGWFRDSuwUAicKB5AKtVfwJIbk_3Zp5vzq5psbp9ZeQSoVJ2DkG_zfVdtfJvs7sTHfbtKDwBuqjbBE8SWlTe5h4kLJKXY4Nc/w640-h554/Libby%20&%20Gin.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggANkeXtTZ5JdnEH6wdUWrwUBQWZjIjzKAnNOTpS4giLdgXW1-TIesRQAJ5vBIyQQllBHOWwhYnPLdNhVpAt4gBkHxzrTV8AySM-FQrUl3_RVwl8l-7F62nKUQ-22oAwvBRFR_YIWlecziKo9C99LTyqQwJcIVaqQWmLENfb6qxndlyu5C5FOP9zx2Q50/s640/Lib%20&%20Gin%201947.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="441" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggANkeXtTZ5JdnEH6wdUWrwUBQWZjIjzKAnNOTpS4giLdgXW1-TIesRQAJ5vBIyQQllBHOWwhYnPLdNhVpAt4gBkHxzrTV8AySM-FQrUl3_RVwl8l-7F62nKUQ-22oAwvBRFR_YIWlecziKo9C99LTyqQwJcIVaqQWmLENfb6qxndlyu5C5FOP9zx2Q50/w442-h640/Lib%20&%20Gin%201947.jpg" width="442" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;"> </span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Dad was pastoring three small churches in North Louisiana and mother was very involved in state-wide mission work. Mother's mother, "Mama" lived with us and we loved her unconditionally.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2DQTVGkiPA42PCjyhbQEhxoyKAnT2xKy-W7moyuBZzyRNpgAU6gnOGHrFfN0WFiiCY1fGyN8Iom6JLj0l8VgIOovZ3QHmGsMvxzDqf5KhQfNx3BwWPfoiUQmD_Eo959ztEFnpMN1rXVIkK1Jmy9St1HyGwHdAbJCmhM3kOH3yjEQ46fWjp00OQQFW/s568/82ca6161-c192-4d93-98eb-bd3d2fd0f2f8.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="568" data-original-width="436" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2DQTVGkiPA42PCjyhbQEhxoyKAnT2xKy-W7moyuBZzyRNpgAU6gnOGHrFfN0WFiiCY1fGyN8Iom6JLj0l8VgIOovZ3QHmGsMvxzDqf5KhQfNx3BwWPfoiUQmD_Eo959ztEFnpMN1rXVIkK1Jmy9St1HyGwHdAbJCmhM3kOH3yjEQ46fWjp00OQQFW/w492-h640/82ca6161-c192-4d93-98eb-bd3d2fd0f2f8.jpg" width="492" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIzL7UO8H6YpHUVPpLVAh9lAUz6Ju2DVx8OEb7SGhxFxIv2ZpoIoKjgtjenVuAxgYm_FBktCFNkvwdfpcV_gUwhQg5eAogUoJgmrvlzBiDC_2UaxALmJsOXZ672dONHO0zQNm7He099ez628CCAyV0X6rlb6_siw_vPjp2sqyi3H9BLFVfzO1B5Y3MvSc/s659/Mt%20Union%201947.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="659" data-original-width="610" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIzL7UO8H6YpHUVPpLVAh9lAUz6Ju2DVx8OEb7SGhxFxIv2ZpoIoKjgtjenVuAxgYm_FBktCFNkvwdfpcV_gUwhQg5eAogUoJgmrvlzBiDC_2UaxALmJsOXZ672dONHO0zQNm7He099ez628CCAyV0X6rlb6_siw_vPjp2sqyi3H9BLFVfzO1B5Y3MvSc/w592-h640/Mt%20Union%201947.jpg" width="592" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Because only one of the churches provided a parsonage and Dad only preached in a church once or twice a month, it was necessary to stay on the field all day between services. Yes, back in that day there were morning and evening church services. The Nutt family adopted us and it was at their house that we spent most every Sunday afternoon. Mrs. Otha made the best fried chicken and their daughter, Judy became our older sister but only by a year.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7y8N0nGhZAXASoKX6Nco_Qqyus5q1NxQ7yD1wGzYSbnsXp397BqXodJlsKtgzZtTU5mEhuYn_iW14yYLMOFvhc-RMZgm0aTykGPggfjFQTraMRfald-MLhiI1Z5-rYrRQVaFWrVLDkO6-sxHI_nhhzGmu8IPR34PgpcxRqC16aHF-gXUz11OdTXU59u4/s615/66338718_10216403809062788_237371254628155392_n.jpg" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="482" data-original-width="615" height="502" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7y8N0nGhZAXASoKX6Nco_Qqyus5q1NxQ7yD1wGzYSbnsXp397BqXodJlsKtgzZtTU5mEhuYn_iW14yYLMOFvhc-RMZgm0aTykGPggfjFQTraMRfald-MLhiI1Z5-rYrRQVaFWrVLDkO6-sxHI_nhhzGmu8IPR34PgpcxRqC16aHF-gXUz11OdTXU59u4/w640-h502/66338718_10216403809062788_237371254628155392_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: medium; text-align: left;">Many years later in 2003 we renewed our long-lost friendship in Shreveport .</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: medium; text-align: left;">When I was either three or four years old, I awoke one morning completely rigid. My parents rushed me to the nearest hospital, the Ruston Sanitarium only to be told after many tests that I had polio. The doctors gave me little chance of survival and if I did I would be "a hopeless vegetable." These were their exact words to these young frightened parents. Because the doctor was a Colvin and knew the financial status of my parents, he and the other doctors decided to keep me there rather than send me to New Orleans to the Polio Center. He later told them that he didn't want to send them down there only to have a dead baby.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: medium; text-align: left;">My only memory is kicking the syringe out of a nurses hand as she was preparing to give me yet another spinal tap on day 4 of my hospital stay. And that was the first time I had moved a muscle in four days.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: medium; text-align: left;">During those four days, it was the people from those three country churches who stayed outside the hospital praying for their pastor's child. After five days and being declared completely healed, I was allowed to return home. This was my first miracle.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA9UFJocQkqvgRoQcmZVhPbZGDxaM6Ia0ard3oYgogTn3lW12MZVxKODiOf6SyLYz1RkibMRK_ZkzsRy73LUYePe91uM3KAyAyHXiiLp_wyyvIqT8d5w6OiYnv-JguT-gT30PY8b-G2Nxcj057pUjdn00tcML7RXZJKmudaAlTC8p_Fm6TTuuIZI7vJws/s843/Camp%20Creek%201948.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="843" data-original-width="594" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA9UFJocQkqvgRoQcmZVhPbZGDxaM6Ia0ard3oYgogTn3lW12MZVxKODiOf6SyLYz1RkibMRK_ZkzsRy73LUYePe91uM3KAyAyHXiiLp_wyyvIqT8d5w6OiYnv-JguT-gT30PY8b-G2Nxcj057pUjdn00tcML7RXZJKmudaAlTC8p_Fm6TTuuIZI7vJws/w450-h640/Camp%20Creek%201948.jpg" width="450" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: medium; text-align: left;">Do you recall me mentioning Dad's friend, Katherine Carpenter from the seminary in New Orleans? Perhaps it was through mother's connection with state missions and her friendship with this wonderful woman (Aunt Katherine to us and who latter served as the Louisiana State WMU Director), that Daddy's friendship with her was reestablished and he was recommended to a church in the South Central part of Louisiana.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Bayou Chicot was just on the northern tip of Acadiana - Cajun Land in Evangeline Parish. Mother used to tell that she couldn't believe God had called them to the "land of heathens."</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">In the summer of 1949, our little family of five, including our maternal grandmother, moved what meager belongings a country preacher's family owns to the little village of Bayou Chicot. We left the familiar piney woods of North Louisiana to start a new adventure that would last 45 years and provide memories for several life times. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Bayou Chicot is known as the oldest English settlement west of the Mississippi River. Our church, Calvary Baptist Church also holds the distinction as "the oldest Baptist Church still in existence west of the Mississippi River." At the time, this held very little meaning to Gin and me.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">It is this story that I want to tell in the following weekly blog posts. I hope you will want to come along and learn what life was like for the Lazenbys in Bayou Chicot and beyond.</span></div></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="85" data-original-width="140" height="86" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjThkQ3geDj5iiveEGhDZ3n47usipcfUCv-dmw2DzQc57m6OOVwo2yxw2eHTWMRu1wMAb71C3-G78BpKffGICXAqUIfhCp-zSPkX0yo6loKam-a6TFHFYcnXl54sMxVnlliUqhpQkgt49E/s1600/libby+sig+140.png" width="140" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/06/the-lazenbys-story-introduction.html">The Lazenby's Story - Introduction</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/06/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-1.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 1</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-2.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 2</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-3.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 3</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-riverview-part-4.html">The Lazenby's Story - Riverview Part 4</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-pine-prairie-part-5.html">The Lazenby's Story - Pine Prairie Part 5</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-lazenbys-story-bayou-chicot-part-6.html">The Lazenby's Story - Bayou Chicot Part 6</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/bayou-chicot-history-part-7.html">Bayou Chicot History Part 7</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/bayou-chicot-history-part-8.html">Bayou Chicot History Part 8</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/bayou-chicot-history-part-9.html">Bayou Chicot History Part 9</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://beautywithoutwithin.blogspot.com/2023/08/calvary-baptist-church-history-part-10.html">Calvary Baptist Church History Part 10</a><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Elizabeth "Libby" Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17145264016754286426noreply@blogger.com0