Christmas . . . A Time to Stay in Touch

I love this time of year. Every afternoon, Gene heads out to the mailbox and brings back a handful of cards. He's diligent about staying in touch with old friends, and they, in turn, with him. We get cards from England and Australia, and from all over the country . . . even as far away as Tucson, Arizona!

Today the Sisson's card came in the mail. They moved to Tucson a few years back, and Kim, the Mom, hand crafts a new card each year. The four boys, Adam, Jake, Matt and Alex, all write special greetings, as do Kim and Rick.

Thought I'd share Rick's greeting with all of you:

"I said to God the other day 'How could we be through the first decade of the millennium already?' and He said 'Who are you?' Note to self: Work on relationship with God."

And Kim's message:

" . . . May you be filled with the grace to know how good you are. You are truly a gift to me."

Thank you Sissons for staying in touch, for reminding us of a few important things and for being the Christmas gift you are!

Land of Our Father

Elyria, Kansas, Grain Elevator


Oil Well Pumping Away


Christian School

After leaving Lincoln, Nebraska, on Sunday with an ice storm nipping at our rear bumper, we headed south on Hwy. 81. Gene had been wanting to visit, Elyria, Kansas, and today was the day we chose to return to the birth place of his father, Vernon Crabb.

Just two miles off Hwy. 81, Elyria, Kansas, is barely a town . . . in fact, it is an unincorporated crossroads at an intersection of two county roads. A few short streets branch off the county road and a scattering of houses populate the area. We thought of John Crabb as we drove around. The town reminded us of Irwin, Ohio, where John lived. Maybe this is why John had wanted to live in the country. Farming was in his blood, passed down from his grandfather.

Gene had visited the town only once when he was 4 or 5 years old and did not recognize any of the houses as being the Crabb homestead. We stopped and asked one young man if he knew any Crabbs, and the response was negative. One house has a sign out front, "Home of the "Smiths" for four generations since 1949". Four generations! But then, Gene had visited in about 1937, so the Smiths probably would not know the Crabbs.

When Vernon Crabb lived in Elyria, all that was there was the farm, a grain elevator and the railroad. Today, there are about 50 or so houses, a Christian School, and a "Historical Site" monument stating that this was the location of the Santa Fe Trail and that a treaty had been signed with the indians to allow the railroad to be built. The indians promised not to kill anybody working on the railroad.

The other important addition: OIL WELLS. Had the Crabbs stayed in Elyria, they might be oil barons today. Several pumps were working away at drawing oil from beneath the ground.

Asi es la vida!

It Snowed on My Birthday!

Yesterday was my birthday, and it snowed. Big, fluffy, lopsided flakes that flip flopped lazily out of the sky. And it was cold . . . in the teens. We bundled up in triple layers of sweaters and jackets when Lori took us out for breakfast. Gene wore his farmer, fleece lined hat with ear flaps to keep his head warm.

After breakfast, we took Lori back to her house in Norfolk, then headed to the mall to do some shopping. Gene wanted to buy me a trinket for my birthday as much of my jewelry had been stolen in our recent robbery. Turned out to be quite a trinket, diamond stud earrings that can be worn with or without a circular guard with more diamonds. I was stunned!

Calls and e-mails came in during the day wishing me a happy birthday. I opened a funny card from Joan that I had been carrying around since we left Phoenix. On the front were four old women wearing big t-shirts with curvaceous bodies printed on them. Joan had penned our names across the backsides of the women: Kathy, Carol, Joan and Suzi. We had quite a laugh. She also bought me a pair of earrings, as did Carol and Kathy and Lori. I'm refilling the jewelry box I have yet to replace.

Lori and I spent the afternoon mixing cookie dough to take to Lincoln where her daughter Crystal lives. On Friday night we'll go to a Christmas concert, and on Saturday we'll all get together to bake and decorate Christmas cookies . . . a new tradition with the Taylor siblings.

The rest of the day was spent relaxing, going out to dinner and playing cards with the young people who daily invade the Taylor home. We're still getting condolence phone calls and e-mails about John, which prod us back to the reality of why we are here. But my happiness was real today, too. I was in the comfort of the Taylor household, my husband had given me a gift I will always treasure, and it snowed!

Remembering John Crabb

John and granddaughter Skye, April 2009


Gene lost a son this week, Lori and Terri a brother, and Beth a husband. I’ve witnessed a sadness come over Gene like I’ve never seen before. A man should not have to bury his son . . . the father should go first. Yet he has been his steady, calm self, comforting others, holding Beth and Lori, his granddaughter Jessica and her children, Skye and Alex. It doesn’t erase the sadness, though, but it does fill the empty spaces with love.

John turned 56 years old this past summer, and in his 56 years he built up quite a roster of friends. His love of history evolved into an expertise in all things related to the Civil War and that period of our history. He and Beth lived a life that centered on perfecting reenactments of Civil War era life and battles. They attended events throughout the Midwest and South, dozens of events held annually in Ohio, Kentucky, Pennsylvania and elsewhere.

And they have photos to prove it . . . John in his period blue soldier’s uniform, long rifle at his side, pipe clamped between his lips; Beth in her hoop skirt, apron and wide rimmed bonnet. It became part of their life style; part of who they are. Their daughters, first Jessica and Ann, then granddaughter Skye, would also step onto the stage, and they became a family of reenactors. Even their wedding was in period dress, John looking his best in his dress uniform and Beth in billowing satin gown with rosebuds in her hair. All the guests came in period clothes as well, with John’s mother in a hoop skirt she couldn’t quite control and Gene in a Naval commodore uniform. It’s impossible to think of John and Beth without the two of them decked out in Civil War regalia. It was a part of their very being.

Which brings me back to the unfairness of it all. Why does a man have to die before his work on this earth is finished. John had a love for teaching others all about the Civil War, the battles, the equipment used, the way of life at that time in our history. He still had so much more to give. Gene has lost a wife and a son, both too young. Yet he enjoys good health. He’s had a premonition that he will live to be 93. Go Gene!

I remember lying in bed when I was gravely ill following the hysterectomy that removed the cancer from my body. Chemo was having its effects and I was nauseated and feeling lousy. Staring into my closet, I had the thought, “This body of mine is nothing more than a suit of clothes draped upon a hangar. It can be tossed aside onto the floor like a dirty shirt. It is the soul aglow inside the costume of bone and muscle and blood that really matters.” Clothes and bodies wear out and are discarded. Souls live on.

We pray that the memory of John and his soul will live on in our hearts.