Make Us Free...
Another year is happening. There is sunshine and I saw a robin on Saturday.
Springtime is drawing near, today I saw two birds fighting over territory—a sure sign of spring and nesting, and whatnot.
Sunday the temperatures were warm. Such a blessing when I'm working at making it to church. My youngest granddaughter, Nonnie, and I were having a day yesterday.
My intentions are good, but by the time I find my face, hair, and teeth, and then try to put clothes on, I'm just beat. So, by the time I'm ready to go, I'm actually ready for a nap.
I don't know what our little munchkin's problem was, but she was a bit cranky. I'm not sure where the name 'Nonnie' came from either. My Aunt Virginia used to sing a song; Hey, Nonnie, Nonnie and a hoo choo choo'. I don't know where it came from, nor where it was going.
Somewhat reminds me of a great grandfather. For years people tried to do genealogy in our family. They would get to our grandmother's father, John Coe and it would dead end.
"Yeah," my Adorable cousin said, "we found his grave. He's buried right beside his wife, our great grandmother, but there isn't a name or anything on the marker. (May not even be a marker)
And, John Coe wasn't his real name...they did a DNA on his youngest living relative they could find and the people doing the test said, 'we don't know who he is, but he isn't a Coe'."
Adorable cousin is deep in genealogy, and after she tells me about the situation she says, "We really ought to go to that cemetery and put up a headstone for him."
"Yes," I said, "we can say, we don't know who he is or where he came from, but here his remains are and he's married to her—maybe an arrow? Some days the more you know the less you really know.
