The music is “Back to Back” by Whitey Morgan and the 78’s, YouTube audioswap.

While we had been here before, in 2001, we had just been passing through on our way to Glacier National Park and had made reservations at a hotel in Great Falls for one night.

In 2007, though, Great Falls was a destination for a family visit.  A brother, his wife and two sons were living there.

While visiting with family, we also saw some of what is left of the falls, went to a farmers’ market, saw an autocross competition, visited Giant Spring State Park, spent a little time at a horse auction and stopped at the Lewis & Clark National Historic Trail Interpretive Center.

__________

References for Great Falls:

• City of Great Falls
• Wikipedia
• Great Falls Conventions and Visitors Bureau
• Great Falls Chamber of Commerce
• Great Falls Tribune

Just over a quarter of Nebraska is mixed grass prairie on grass-stabilized sand dunes, referred to locally as the sandhills. It is the largest area of sand dunes in the western hemisphere.

In 2007, we visited a relative’s ranch in the sandhills, a place of fond memories for me.  The accompanying video was produced from pictures from that visit.

• Sand Hills – Wikipedia
• The Nebraska Sandhills
• The Sandhills – U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service
• Valentine National Wildlife Refuge
• Sandhills Journey Scenic Byway
• The Nebraska Sandhills – Lincoln City Library: “The Nebraska Sandhills are the largest area of sand dunes in the western hemisphere. Over 50,000 square kilometers, or close to 20,000 square miles in extent (not counting some outliers), the Sandhills are fragile grasslands that are wild, sparsely settled, desolate, and beautiful in unexpected ways.”

Our grandson just finished his testing in karate for first level black belt.

He will be 11 next month and has been in karate for 4 years.

He gets his black belt in an award ceremony tomorrow near where he lives in Wisconsin.  Karen is up there visiting – which was arranged some time ago to coincide with this event.

I wish I could be there with Karen to visit our daughter, son-in-law, granddaughter, and grandson, but I have classes to teach.

Note: This “lost” Haw Creek Out ‘n About post was recovered from the Internet Archive WayBack Machine.

(Click on any of the thumbnail images for larger versions of the photos)

We got a little bit of a late start on June 10th, a Sunday, when we headed for Madison for a picnic and a hike. It was a beautiful day and I was skeptical that we would be able to find an empty table at a park in the city. We were following our daughter, Jessica, and son-in-law, Shane — the grand-kids were with us. Since we had never been in Madison before, and didn’t have a clue where they were heading, it could have been very interesting. However, Shane drove slow so the “old man” following him — me! — could keep up and we ended up finding a table at Tenny Park, a small park near Lake Mendota on the Madison isthmus.

After the grand-kids were done playing following lunch, we headed out again. I really didn’t have a clue where we were going and, for a while wasn’t sure Shane did either. However, before long, we stopped at a University of Wisconsin gardens.

The Allen Centennial Gardens are open daily from dawn to dusk and there is no entrance fee. The gardens serves as a 2.5 acre outdoor classroom for the Department of Horticulture. Allen Centennial Gardens is centered around a beautiful Victorian gothic house known by several names, including “the Agricultural Dean’s Residence.” One of the first buildings on the agricultural campus, the house served as residence for the first four deans. Today it is home for the offices of the Agricultural Research Stations.

Allen Centennial Gardens was dedicated in October 1989. It was designed to compliment the house and existing plantings, including a larch tree planted in 1899. (See more at the Allen Centennial Garden web site.)

From the gardens, we walked past Porter Boathouse to the shore of Lake Mendota and took a pedestrian/bicycle path along the shore over to Memorial Union. Round trip, we walked a little under 2 miles. It was a nice stroll through the woods along the lake. There were a lot of other folks out walking, running, and bicycling.

Memorial Union is one of two buildings that comprise the Wisconsin Union. The other is Union South, located in another area of this very large campus. The Union is the “social, cultural, and recreational center of campus” and “serves as a daily gathering place for students, faculty, staff, community members, and visitors.”

The 19th annual Isthmus Jazz Fest was in it’s last few hours on the Memorial Union Terrace on Lake Mendota when we got there. We stopped inside for some ice cream and then went down by the lake with the grandkids while Professor Les Thimmig was playing the sax.

Note: This “lost” Haw Creek Out ‘n About post was recovered from the Internet Archive WayBack Machine.

While in a meeting on Monday, I received a call on my cell from my niece in Norfolk, Virginia.

My mom had passed away at home just a short while before.

It’s been a long, sad week.

On the positive side, of course, we were able to spend time with family that we don’t get to see very often.

A long sad week.

(continued from Our accident)

I remember Karen talking to one of the EMTs like she knew him.  It turned out she did – sort of.

I think the encounter went something like this:

Karen immediately recognized one of the EMTs when she saw him through the windshield as they were coming around the front of the car.

As they started checking her over, she asked, “Are you Larry?”

Somewhat surprised, he said that he was.  When Karen told him, “I know your wife, Vivian,” he asked how she knew her.

Karen replied, “Blogging, email, quilting.”

He responded with another question, “Are you C.J. or Karen?”

Karen, C.J., and Vivian had been commenting on each others blogs for quite some time.  Last year, they met for lunch and had arranged to do it again this week – tomorrow, in fact.  Karen recognized Larry because Vivian had just posted a photo of him making Christmas breakfast.

On her blog, Karen says, “– it felt really reassuring to me even though I had never met him.  It was like I knew I was in good hands.”

———-

Karen is getting around a lot better today.  Her chest still hurts a lot and she has pains all over, kind of like the all over pains you get from the flu, except she doesn’t have the flu.

Yesterday, I went to the wrecker yard and got all of our stuff out of the car.  It’s seven years old and I’d be very surprised if it could be fixed for the approximate $5,000 the car is worth on Kelly Blue Book.  Unfortunately, I don’t have any of the insurance information for the driver of the other car.  It’ll be in the police report, which my insurance company is supposed to obtain.  The other driver was cited by the police officer which establishes fault for the insurance purposes.

This car was the one we towed behind our motor home, so if it’s totaled, we’ll have make sure to get a replacement that can be towed.

“The coast ain’t clear, __-___”

If I had just a moment and could turn back the clock, that’s what I’d tell the person that waved the kid through.

It’s what I would tell the kid, too.

We had just seen “True Grit” at a new theater that just opened about an hour’s drive from home. On the way home, we decided to go ten miles out of the way to go out to eat.

When it happened, we were driving on a road that  is two lanes in each direction with a center turning lane.

We had just gone through a traffic light as it turned yellow. The next light had just turned green and the cars stopped there had started to move.  We were in the southbound lane next to the turning lane and there were fewer cars ahead of us than there were in the other southbound lane.

Just after we made it through the light that had turned yellow, a car that I hadn’t seen darted through a gap in the other lane of traffic.

They had been waved through by a driver in that lane.

“The coast ain’t clear, __-___s”

We were about three blocks from the restaurant we had decided to go to.

I hit the brakes and thought that we just might make it – but realized, just before impact, that we weren’t going to.

We hit hard, but not so hard that the air bags deployed.  The impact moved us a little sideways, so that the front, driver side tire was over the yellow line of the turning lane.

Shortly after the impact, the kid backed his car back into the drive of the convenience store, clearing one lane of traffic. The __-___ driver that had waved the kid through didn’t even stop to see if anyone was hurt.  The accident happened right in front of their vehicle, but they just drove off.

Our car wasn’t going any place under it’s own power.

“My chest hurts.”

Karen still had her seatbelt on.
_____________

Karen’s brother brought us home after she was released from the Emergency Room.

Karen is still hurting, but nothing is broken – according to the x-rays – and her heart is fine.  She got a shot for pain at the Emergency Room and got a prescription for the same medication – something that doesn’t cause nausea.

I’m fine – no pains that I can attribute to the accident. Tomorrow may be a different story.

The car is 6 years old with quite a lot of mileage on it.  It’s probably totaled. The cost of repair will probably be more than the value of the car.

Well Christmas has come, and soon will be gone.

It’s cold here and, while we had some flurries this morning, it’s not a white Christmas.  The winter storm that hit the southeast US missed us.

Our youngest daughter, her hubby and kids are traveling from the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee on their way home.  Part of their travel was to be through some areas with snow, but, hopefully, it wasn’t too bad.  Living in the north, they are familiar with winter weather.

We had an abbreviated visit with our older daughter – shorter than planned.  Her husband had a bad cold and stayed home.  She had a short visit with her mother-in-law and then came up the hill for a middle of the day meal with us and a few hours with us before leaving with enough time to get home before dark.

I hope that the rest of the holiday season – and next year – is great for everyone.

There are more images at Out ‘n About

We are currently camped near Staunton, Virginia. Tomorrow we will be camping in a small campground in Virginia Beach and will be visiting my Mom in Norfolk.

This hasn’t been the greatest week for a traveling and camping trip. When we are camping, we like to take hikes and we only got a couple in. It’s been raining every day and every night — not continuously, but heavy at times and often enough to make things a little difficult.

When we’re traveling, we stop every couple of hours or so and find some place to walk.

Sometimes, we are able to walk at rest areas. When we are able to do that, we make from a couple of “laps” on the walkways to several if the walkways are limited. It helps loosen us up and makes the trip go better. Today we were able to walk at three rest areas. One of them had a “pet trail” that turned into a half mile loop trail into the woods and we had already done the generous rest area walkways.

Off the interstate highways, rest areas are few and far between. We’ve found other places that work well for walks. Shopping malls, of course, are good. However, we’ll often stop at a “big box store” like Walmart, Lowes, or Home Depot, and make several laps around the inside of the store.

We also walk at campgrounds. Walking the entire campground that we were at in Great Smoky Mountain National Park was probably about a mile, which we did 3 evenings, I think. The campground we are at now is at least that, but also has a rather generous uphill section.

We did get several short walks in that on a couple of days when we were able to dodge the storms. Yesterday afternoon when we the campground, the rain had stopped, so we decided to do one of the closest trails, a 2.6 mile round-trip hike to Laurel Falls. It was nice. I’ll post pictures later.

So far as food, I generally don’t overeat too much when we are traveling. We’ve eaten out twice, McDonald’s and Subway. We’ve been eating sandwiches mostly for lunch and regular food for supper. I’ve been eating less snacks, I think.

See other participants’ results at Blog to Fit – Wednesday Weigh-In.

posted on flickr by jot.punkt

Note: This post was originally published August 4th, 2007. With it’s publication, Exit78 saw its first “spike” of comments — all 10 of them plus several link backs. Check the end of this post to see how many of them are still active on the blogs they linked from.

Have you ever heard the phrase, curse like a sailor?

Even though I spent what seemed like a lifetime around other guys that did, I don’t curse like a sailor. On a few occasions when I did use a choice expression, I can recall a few raised eyebrows.

The reason I don’t often swear is that I considered who my audience would be if I slipped up and let my bad nature show. I really didn’t want to be sitting down for Christmas dinner with the family only to blurt out something in front of my Mom that would embarrass both of us and others.

It was a conscious decision to take into consideration possible audiences and change bad habits that were already developing before they became very difficult to alter. It’s worked.

I believe the same concept goes for blogging, whether it’s for blogging for money or blogging for fun. Will your blogging voice, your blogging personae attract your audience or will it drive your audience away? There are some internet income related blogs that I have tried and then left because of what I perceived to be the attitude of the authors.

For me, it comes down to:

• Be yourself,
• Be nice, and
• Be family friendly.

In the last few months, I have decided to really be myself.

I’ve stopped being anonymous online. I use my name when I blog and when I comment. My family, friends, and former co-workers are welcome here, though they may not agree with some of the opinions expressed here.

While I’m not a blogging expert nor an expert about making money online, this tip is just good old fashioned common sense. You are a part of what you are trying to sell online.

• 8/21/2007
• blog no longer exists
• blog no longer exists
• current — but confusing
• current — but confusing
• closed “in light of recent events.”
• current — but confusing
• February 7, 2009
• Dec 10, 2008
• February 2nd, 2009
• February 8th, 2009
• January 20, 2008
• blog no longer exists

One of my favorite places in the world is 20 miles from the nearest town and seven miles from the nearest road.  Nearly treeless except for those few planted to provide breaks from the harsh winds of winter, it is a broad expanse of lush grass covering the dunes of an ancient desert — land unforgiving of those who tired to break it to the plow — land perfect for ranching.

I never knew the whole story of how the ranch came to be.  All I can remember of it is that a farmer in the days of the Great Depression, with no market for his crops and beef, was able to save his land and his herd by being able to buy a large supply of grain at extremely low prices.  As a result of taking advantage of an opportunity in an unsettled time, the family was able to make it through the hard times and, a little later, buy 21 square miles of range land where the farmer’s son and his bride settled in 1941.

The ranch hold significant positive memories for me. Experiences associated with the ranch, its owners and their family helped shape who I am.   The ranch — a result of a farmer taking advantage of an opportunity in an unsettled time.

The world again faces unsettled times — and opportunities.

What kind of new opportunities might be on your horizon?

To support his family during the
Great Depression, my wife’s grandfather
had to travel to places where there was
work.  He built this small “camping
trailer.”

We did everything right…, we thought.

We “bought” a house that we could afford on our budget and never re-financed, though it probably would have been smart in order to get a better interest rate…, or to pay it off earlier.  But now it’s paid off and that doesn’t matter.

We never bought more on credit than we could afford…, but sometimes it was close.

We did without the toys that others bought…, no bass boat, no four-wheeler, no recreational vehicle — until recently.

However, we did travel, sometimes on our own dime and sometimes on company business, with us paying Karen’s way and the cost for the side trips that we made.

And we saved, saved, saved — most of the time on a single income.

Our vehicles — except for one — have always been new, never used.  But we always drive them until they are just about falling apart — except for one, a different one — , so we generally get decent value out of them.

And we always, always pay our bills on time — except for that one bill that fell behind the couch back in 1978.

Creditors usually like us — we did everything right.

And now it’s likely we’re going to have to pay because others didn’t do it right…, and I’m just a little upset about it.

I’m not upset at the people who were able to finance more than they should have been able to.

Its.. not… their… fault!!!

I’m upset at the greedy bastards that let them finance more that they could pay for — the people who came up with variable interest loans and other creative financing schemes that were going to make the loans possible for those who were too close to the edge — the regulators that deregulated — the politicians that made it legal to deregulate.

I’m upset at all the people who worked to change the rules that said you had to live within what you could afford, that said you had to be able to afford whatever debt you took on.

The way we did….

Damn greedy bastards!

That would have been the average life expectancy of a person diagnosed with lupus 40 years ago — 5 years.

Twenty years ago, when my wife was diagnosed with it, the life expectancy was — possibly a normal life expectancy.

Karen was in pain, she was weak, she tired out quickly.  One doctor dismissed her symtoms as being “in her head.”  She made an appointment with a different doctor in the same clinic.  He didn’t know what it was for sure, but he was suspicious of the rash and sent her to a dermatologist.  The dermatologist identified the disorder and lined her up with a specialist in Little Rock.

She was diagnosed with lupus and other related disorders, including fibromyalgia and polymiositis. Fortunately, through the care of this doctor and doing what she is supposed to do, she has been in medicated remission for many years.  When she backs too far off of the meds, symptoms start to reappear, so she must maintain a low level dose of them.  She does have pains related to the disorders and she isn’t able to build strength easily — it has to be slow and gradual.  Other than that, though, she lives a normal and healthy life.

Today, she went to a dermatologist for a small rash that has been rather stubborn.  It turns out is is probably related, so she is going to have to be a little more careful with staying out of the sun and/or using sunscreen.

It was the same dermatologist that diagnosed the lupus on August 23, 1988.  It was the first time she’s been back since he referred her to the specialist.

How cool is that?

Note: the picture above was taken last September about a mile out on a trail in Canyonlands National Park.

Karen on the Edge — Grandview Point Trail, Canyonlands National Park

The Grand View Point Trail begins as the end of Grand View Road on the southern tip of Island in the Sky Mesa. It starts at an approximate elevation of 6,100 feet and heads one mile southwest along a level path.

September 23, 2007 at 11.56pm CMT
Camera: Pentax K10D
Exposure: 0.003 sec (1/350)
Aperture: f/8
Focal Length: 18 mm
ISO Speed: 100
Flickr page

This year is a very different political year.

I’m still not going to talk about my own politics here — that’s personal.

The politics of our grandchildren — that’s interesting.

When Obama made his speech in Madison, Wisconsin, on the evening that he won the Potomac primaries, our grandchildren were in the audience.

Emily Mills, the lady who took this photo, observed, from her vantage point in the press area:

When Obama himself finally made his grand entrance, the handful of young college girls standing in front of me (on the other side of the fence) started screaming and jumping up and down like there was a dreamy movie star in the vicinity. That sort of reaction is fascinating to me, and, I think, somewhat unique to the Obama candidacy. I don’t suppose McCain or Clinton elicit similar reactions from their supporters. My blogger friend leaned over to me at one point and asked, “Since when did politics become cool?”

The following week, our grandson was so interested in the process that he asked his dad to take him to the polls when he went to vote — before school.

My earliest memories of politics are from when I was the same age, seven years old. It was during the campaign of another very charismatic president. All I really remember is kids playacting the Kennedy vs. Nixon contest in the playground.

The campaigns this year have been far more interesting than most in the past. I think turnout has been extraordinary for a large percentage of primaries. My wife and I voted in primaries for the first time ever.

Maybe it’s because of the the writer’s strike and — now that it’s over — politics will go back to norrmal.

naaa. – I don’t think so.

(photo by Emily Mills – There is a Creative Commons license attached to this image. Attribution, No Derivative Works)

Okay — so it’s for a catalog.

And she’s only five — and our granddaughter.

We think it’s very cool.

It’s a school and library supply company and she’s on the cover of the 2008 catalog. The website description of the catalog says, “…. thousands of quality products in one place. Library supplies, AV supplies, and equipment, signage & display, furniture, Library Promotions™, learning materials, and more. A huge variety to choose from!”

Coincidentally with this, her mother found a picture of her in a Land’s End ad that she hadn’t seen yet. We’ve seen the picture in catalogs, just not in this location online. I think they’ve had this picture in at least two catalogs, except it had been photo-shopped with a different color for the coat.

Actually, the head-line is intentionally misleading. We “fed up” pretty good with an early Christmas dinner, but we found it prudent to leave half a day early.

Our daughter actually was the one that suggested that we leave early.

The weather was a bit disappointing the entire time we were visiting. It was very foggy the entire time we were there, so much so that we were not able to see any of the countryside when we went anywhere except just what was right next to the road. With the amount of snow that was on the ground, it would have been really pretty — if we could have seen it.

We’ve been watching the forecast for this weekend since we got there on Wednesday and making contingency plans just in case. Saturday morning, our plans were to leave the hotel Sunday morning and go over to our daughter’s for a few hours, giving the road crews a chance to do whatever clearing they needed to do. At that time, the forecast was for two to four inches of snow. As the day progressed, the forecast changed to three to eight inches of snow overnight with widespread blowing snow and a chance of additional snow during the day on Sunday.

After our daughter suggested that we leave early, we decided that it would probably be prudent to cut the trip short and avoid potentially snowy roads combined with holiday traffic. We left the hotel at 3:40 P.M. and spent the night in Springfield, Illinois. We’ll be home some time late today (Sunday).

We’re on the east side of Knoxville, Tennessee. In the morning, we should be heading pretty much the opposite direction of rush hour traffic.

Today… Long day, Long drive, two extended periods of fog and terrible traffic for a Sunday. Since 2001, I don’t care much for flying. Probably should have made this an exception. Too late now.

One bright spot is not having to stop for fuel. While we did stop at gas stations and truck stops, it was to use the facilities and fill up my coffee cup.

We’ve got about 500 more miles to go tomorrow and will be able to make it all of the way without refueling.

There’s no trick. We’re in the truck and it has a 45 gallon auxiliary fuel tank. We’re getting right around 20 miles per gallon of diesel fuel, so we have a range of about 1300 miles when we’re not pulling the trailer.

I used Priceline.com and got us a 3 star hotel in the Norfolk area for $65 a night, so we should have wireless capability.

My Mom is in the hospital in Norfolk and will probably be having surgery on Tuesday or Wednesday.

We’re heading out first thing in the morning. It’s about a 20 hour trip.

If everything goes well, we’ll be back home by this time next week. If not…

I received this narrative from a second cousin when I visited her several years ago trying to learn more about my ancestry.

Ambrose Pearse, Matilda Brady, John Brady, Clarrisa DuBois and others mentioned were my ancestors or otherwise related. Ambrose and Matilda were grandparents to Olive Wineland Goad (in photo on right), my great great grandmother. Her husband was James Wesley Goad.  The boy on the left side of the photo is Bert Irvine Goad, my great grandfather. (Photo and additional information added 7/21/2011)

The story is from a letter from Walter R. Pearse to Wava Wineland Nelson in 1965.

I knew Dad had planned to check on Charity Brady. He wanted to expand the Pearse History if he could. The year he died I took the trip he had planned. Our children were small and my wife didn’t want to go on “my wild goose chase” as she called it so I went alone.

At the Delaware Co. Court House I found out Charity had married a man named Osborne, and was still paying taxes on a house and lot at Radnor. I went to see her. It was a pitiful little shack on the outskirts of a town of about 300 people. I went through a path that led through high grass and up onto a low platform of a back porch. I looked through the screen and saw an old woman, a very old woman. The oldest creature I had ever seen. She had a faded blue bandanna covering her white hair right down to her eyes. She saw me standing there and motioned me in. She looked at me with blue eyes of an ancient, but the shine in them came from behind a milky covering.

She made a shaking motion with a trembling finger toward a chair. Then suddenly it dawned on me, if she had married at 22, in 1836 as the County Clerk said, she should have died by rules of our biology 30 years ago. She must be 102 or 103 years old. She had high cheek bones and dark pigmentation that betrayed Indian Ancestry not too many generations ago. I sat down. At first I thought the place was filthy, but as I looked around I realized it was just neglected. The remains of a life and a century of relic crammed the room.

“I am Walter Pearse, ” I said.

She made a little sound and the corners of her mouth turned up in a little smile.

“I am Charity Osborne,” she whispered.

I could see my name meant nothing to her.

“My father was John Andrew Pearse.”

She said nothing.

“Ambrose Pearse was my grandfathers brother,” I said.

“Why did he not come?” She asked.

“He died in 1847, ” I answered.

“All dead.” She echoed and her trembling hand gestured toward a cupboard where I saw behind the dingy glass a faded tin-type that must have been she and her husband in an early time. Two young boys in a snap-shot of later vintage were peeking out from behind a womans long skirt.

“My son’s,” she said, “dead before manhood.” a sigh shook her frail frame.

“My husband,” she made a vague gesture toward the cupboard, “dead these 68 years.” she fell into silence.

I felt like the intruder I was, but I plunged on.

“My Dad said that Matilda Brady was part Indian.” I said. “Was she?”

A little chant passed her lips, barely said, that I could not decipher, but I saw the spark in her eye. We fell into a discussion of her ancestry. She told me this story I am repeating off and on for five days, in whispers, with long silences while she drifted away. It touched me deeply.

There are many ways to the great Spirit, ” she whispered. “I wonder now why I took the white way.” Her voice trailed off and she appeared to be dozing. Presently she gave a start. “You are my blood. It matters no more. I was ashamed – ashamed to be Indian. So much hate – so much – you could not know for it was a different world then.” A tear slipped out of the corner of her eye and lost itself in a deep wrinkle.

“I was a child of two moons when my Neegah (Mother) Clarrisa DuBois went to the great Spirit.” She stopped and seemed to be daydreaming and when I thought she was sleeping again, she said, “I think it was 1826 when my father went to Shallow Water to trap. He did not come back. He was an Irishman by name, John Brady. There were three of us, brother Andrew, sister Matilda and me. I have his eyes. I do not remember this I tell you. My brother Andrew married a white, Betsy Miller. They had a child and we lived with them. Andrew became a Christian and we lived at Gnadenhutten. Matilda married Ambrose Pearse. Andrew told me our Neegah was a daughter of Sarah Montour. She was born, ” she paused, “No, I cannot remember, but her man was Jaque DuBois. He was a tata and was raised by the Miami. It is hard to remember, for years I tried to forget. Sarah Montour was our Cocumtha (Grandmother). She was a child of Miami Chieftress Catusa. Catusa lived in the time of George Washington. Our grandfather DuBois was killed fighting with Little Turtle at the Skunk Place. My Brother Andrew was proud of our people, but it made me sick inside.”

“I worked for whites. I saved money and I ran away and came here. I tried to forget Indian ways.”

She said she had worked for Daniel Osborne on his farm. He was Quaker and when his wife died, he married her. He was twice her age. When his children grew up, they had nothing to do with her and her two boys, Andrew and John, had died of typhoid. When she could no longer work, she sold off the land and the farmhouse, keeping only an acre with the shack she now lived in. She said also her clan was a mother clan. That is (where) the descent is through the mother and not the father as it is in the white race.

Each night I drove back to Delaware and stayed the night. I took her canned stuff and the like and I tried to give her money, but she would not take it. I spent time trying to find the meaning of some of the words she used, and it was hard for her to follow if I got off the subject we had been talking about. She said some ladies in town ” did for her.” I met one of them, Mattie Webb. She seemed like a good person. I left my name and address with her and told her if Charity ever needed anything to let me know. In 1917 she wrote to say Charity died Oct. 2 and that they buried her by her two boys in the Radnor cemetery. I didn’t try to check Charity’s story but every time I think of her I feel somewhat awed….
———————————————-
A lot of this story checks out. Andrew Montour, referenced elsewhere as Madeline Montour’s husband, is mentioned by Washington in one of his diaries. Shallow Water could very well be the Platte River of Nebraska where there is a Brady Island named after a murdered trapper in the early 1800s. Little Turtle died shortly before a major battle at Fort Dearborn on the Chicago River… “Chicago” comes from Indian words meaning, “place of the polecat,” “marsh gas,”or “strong smell” depending on the reference you use.