The smell of a proverbial rose

Just thought everyone would like to see an up-to-date picture of the kids. Seeing them toddling around the house or hamming it up in the morning is a joy to Hope and me...I find myself continually reminding myself to enjoy them at this stage, warts and all. Stopping to smell the proverbial roses, if you will--even if they smell like a dirty diaper!

I have been participating in a local chapter of the Arkansas Archeological Society. Just yesterday I dropped some aerial photographs I borrowed from a couple of elderly members (Ed and Patsie White), and they showed me their personal collection of artificats gathered over decades of effort in the Ashley County, Arkansas area. They were so proud of what they had been able to do, yet were somewhat dismayed that they weren't sure of what was going to become of their collection when they pass on. They really want their fantastic artifacts to be preserved and displayed for people to enjoy, and not simply stored in some dusty boxes or shelves in some university's archives. Unfortunately, there are few other options for them...

I have also been collaborating with a retired company forester who has helped me in the historical aspects of the work I'm doing here in southern Arkansas. O.H. "Doogie" Darling is a classical southern gentleman, well-versed in both forestry and local history. His current passion is the railroad logging operations of the Crossett Lumber Company (CLC) that he worked for many years ago. Doogie came to work for the CLC in the waning years of their railroad logging operations, and has done a fantastic job of reconstructing their operations in the first half of the 20th Century. I am going to help him prepare his manuscript for submission to a state-level historical journal.

I mention this interaction with the Whites and Doogie to encourage my generation (and those younger than I) to keep the past not so distant. The living history that these people offer is precious to me, and I think it should be for all. Hope is digging into one of her ancestors that survived the horrors of the Civil War and Andersonville Prison, and I plan to do so for our side of the family as well. It pains me to think that this information will be lost to time, but as each generation passes on, we lose more and more. I hope that Kenny and Beth will always be able to enjoy the here and now, and have the benefit of knowing their past as well.