Sepia Saturday - Ezra - We Hardly Know Ye!

Ezra Meeker 1830-1928

I used this photo postcard for yesterday's Postcard Friendship Friday. The subject of my post had nothing to do with the picture, but curiosity about this colorful portrait sitter got the best of me. Luckily his name, Ezra Meeker, appears on the postcard and it also turned up immediately on my search for information. Turns out Ezra was a modern day Johnnie Appleseed! In his later years he traveled along the already well established Oregon Trail sowing patriotism, remembrances of the early days on the trail and he also sought to memorialize the Oregon Trail - one of our great highways to the west.

Ezra Meeker 1921


Ezra was born in Huntsville Ohio in 1830. At age 22 he married Eliza Jane Sumner, had a son, Marian, and took off on the Oregon Trail to take advantage of land offerings in Washington. The family settled near Puget Sound and then moved inland to land where he made a good living growing hops. He platted out a townsite and named it Puyallup after the local Puyallup Indian tribes. Eventually the town grew and became incorporated,. Ezra was elected the first mayor of Puyallup.

Ezra and his ox cart on the Oregon Trail

He enjoyed a successful life and built a mansion for Eliza Jane (isn't that a lovely name!) which they enjoyed until hops aphids destroyed his crops.

"He subsequently tried a number of ventures, including dehydrating fruits and vegetables, working on packaging milk in paper containers, and four largely unsuccessful trips to the Klondike looking for gold. He also wrote a novel about his experiences on the trip west."

One of Ezra Meeker's hand made Trail markers

During Ezra's traveling years, which he began at age 76, he traveled the Oregon Trail, and made his way by oxcart all the way to Washington DC. In 1916 he drove the Trail in his 80 horsepower (60 kW) automobile with a prairie-schooner top. In 1924, at the age of 94, Meeker flew from Vancouver Washington to Dayton Ohio in an open cockpit Army plane. He met with Presidents, Coolidge and Theodore Roosevelt and eventually received the funds needed to memorialize the Oregon Trail when in 1926 the U.S. Mint issued 50 cent pieces memorializing the Trail and depicting Ezra's oz drawn wagon. The coins were issued to the Oregon Trail Memorial Association, which sold the coins to raise funds for trail markers.

The city of Puyallup still thrives with about 37,000 residents. It lies in a fertile valley in the shadow of Mt. Rainier. The town is known for their daffodils which they grow and sell worldwide!
A statue of Meeker was built in Puyallup 1926. His ox cart is housed in the Washington State History Museum in Tacoma Washington. His oxen are there too, stuffed and mounted! Ezra felt - and rightly so - that they should be properly memorialized.

More information is available at Wikipedia which is the source I used for this post and pictures.

More Sepia Saturday is available HERE!

Postcard Friendship Friday - Come to Florida - The Shoot 'em up State

Forget the garden hose. If one of those little varmints rides their bike on MY sidewalk I'm ready.


March 17, Tampa Bay Times: Open Carry Bills passed in respective criminal justice committees this week. SB 234 and HB 517 would let people with concealed weapons permits openly carry holstered firearms in most locations.


The Senate bill is sponsored by Greg Evers, R-Baker. The House's version is sponsored by eight Republicans including House Speaker-in-waiting, Chris Dorworth. Dorworth is nudging it along through the House despite the fact that every Sheriff in Florida is against these bills. After all, we should have the right to bear bare arms.

The bill sponsors agreed, after lengthy arguments, to remove the part of the bill that would allow open carry on college campus'. But Church is ok. And McDonald's. And Chucky Cheese. And Disney World. And the Gasparilla Parade - imagine if you will. Picture an imbibing party guest standing next to you. You notice he's packing just as you grab the beads he was reaching for. Oops.

Greetings from the Gun Totin' State

Is my gun showing?


Supporters (which, of course, includes the NRA) say the bill is meant to protect permit holders whose guns are accidentally made visible - for example, a strong wind blows a shirt up and exposes a gun. Really? Comments on blogs include whining gun toter's who complain about the Florida heat. How can they be expected to remember their "cover sweater" when its 98 degrees out. Meanwhile, Florida Sheriffs, and I, say the "accidental exposure" argument is ludicrous.

Alright, class, one more time: 9 X 8 = what?

Coming up on a crime scene how will the police be able to sort out between friend and foe. How can they concentrate on the bad guy. And do it quickly enough to avoid becoming another officer killed in the line of duty.

Look around on Youtube. You'll find a clip of a distracted packing party guest. A young boy reaches into party guest's holster - or perhaps pocket, pulls out the guy's gun and shoots him. Takes only a second.

Picture this: you are in a 7/11 looking for Cheese Doodles. Guy walks in with gun.

Picture this: you are in that same 7/11 buying Gummy Worms. Guy walks in with gun. Another guy walks in. He was just going to pay for gas for his stolen car but sees a better opportunity. Disarms guy with gun. Gun guy never took classes on how to protect himself from being disarmed. It's not required. And there you are, kissing your Gummy Worms goodbye.

I think he took someones parking space.


The whole idea of "open carry" is just asking for trouble. It is ludicrous and unnecessary. We'll look like the wild west in the deep south. Think Bubba Redneck and his single-wide neighbors at Disney for the day. Packin'.

So you wanna pack a weapon. Fine. Apparently it's your Constitutional right. At least that's how the Second Amendment is interpreted. And you think you have to keep it on you for 24/7 protection. Fine. But keep it where I don't have to see it. I don't know anything about you, so my instinct will be to scream GUN!, dive under the nearest table and dial 911. So keep your permit handy.

Number of times in my 66 years that I've said "Golly, I sure could use a gun right about now" = zero
If I had a gun, chances of it even being in the same room with me if I needed it = zero (It would be in some other room next to my cell phone.)

Chances of my avoiding places where I might be subjected to folks packing visible weapons = 100%

Chance of a pistol packer finding a reason to use his/her weapon: high. You read about it every day in the news.

Chance of any scenario requiring the use of a weapon for protection being in favor of the "good" guy: 2%

Don't leave home without it

Today's PFF post is more of a rant - sorry- but Open Carry is just another eye-roller of an idea that someone and their best buds are trying to turn into legislation for some self serving purpose that will be unveiled only after the bill passes.

Visit Beth at The Best Hearts Are Crunchy for some unarmed Postcard Friendship Friday.

Postcard Friendship Friday - Goth History

American Gothic by Grant Wood, 1930

Grant Wood painted this American icon using a home described as "carpenter Gothic" and the people he fancied would live in this house. His models are his daughter, and his dentist. The couple in the picture are meant to be a farmer and - not his wife - but his spinster daughter. The term, spinster was originally used to describe a woman who spins to make her own living and therefore does not require a man to provide for her.

This is the house shown in Wood's picture. He painted each character and the house separately. They never stood together, and neither stood in front of the house as he painted.

The person who wrote on the postcard has unintelligible handwriting and other than a reference to Christmas, something wonderful and a church, I have no idea what he/she is saying. He must be a product of a public school Education . Or - okay - perhaps he was a Catholic school student who got smacked with a ruler so many times he lost the use of his fingers and therefore was never able to achieve the lovely script of a parochial educated person

What I really intended to do here is write about This Day In History. That would be the siege of Rome that began on March 11, 357 by the Ostrogoths. ( Ostro: think Austria) A Germanic people, who like the Visigoths (Latin for visi =Teutonic and Goth = west), were a subgroup of the Goths. What happened, was the Goths took over Rome in the 5th century and had their own little country right in the middle of Italy. When their leader died the Romans told them to take a hike. So, on the way out of the city the Goths tweeted their posse and lay siege to Rome. A little over a year later, they gave up and left. No known postcards survived the siege, so I used the American Gothic picture instead. It's my blog. That's why.

Goths

These are some of the Goths who lay siege. Four of them appear to be standing, and the other two aren't laying at all, they are sitting. Sitting is more accurate , however, because the word siege comes from the Latin word sedere, which means sit as in sedentary, my favorite exercise. Which is what the Goths did. They sat around outside of Rome, disconnected the water supply, kept the Romans inside the city walls and away from food sources and waited for the Romans to die from thirst, starvation, disease, and attacks by the Goths.

This lovely Goth appears to be writing a postcard, but it was probably destroyed during the siege.

Happy Postcard Friendship Friday!

Stop by Beth's The Best Hearts Are Crunchy for more Postcard Friendship Friday!

Poetry Bus - Bender Defender

I'm hopping on board - late - even later than usual. Our host is The Stammering Poet, Peter Goulding, and he has given us these prompts:

In a nutshell, I am looking for
1) An ode to pancakes in the persona of a poet of your choice
2) Something (or things) I did while drunk, or
3) A rondeau.

Prompts one and three would have caused brain stem damage or worse, so I dove for number 2 - even though I've laid off the drink of my youth. Which wasn't much to begin with. So I had to use my poetic license - the one that isn't suspended. Bottoms up:

Bender Defender

I Thought that I would be just fine

If I drove right on the middle line

Down the empty two-way country road

I was toolin’ right along at 50

And thought I was being nifty

Feeling very happy and quite bold

Then I saw the flashing blue light bar

Catching up to my ole car

Bidding me to pull aside

So I parked right at the gutter

While thinking what lie I could utter

To gain an un-ticketed ride

I saw his name tag, Pat O’Brien

He asked - little lady where you flyin?

And what’s causing you to drive so badly?

I said, to church, uhm, that’s the thing

So I can pray and I can sing

But I’ll be late now I sighed, sadly

Ah, Me dear mother Brigitte

Would think of me an eedjit

If I made you miss your Sunday Mass

Go! Take the bread, but NO more wine

And thank the Lord that you are fine

Cuz it’s Friday but I’ll let you take a pass

Cynthia Ann Conciatu

Happy Paczki Day!

Today, the Tuesday before Lent, is celebrated by those of Polish heritage as Paczki day. These are wonderful dense doughnuts filled with good thick homemade preserves. The word translates to "packet" and is pronounced "punch-key". You'll find faxcimiles at your local grocery store, but they pale in comparison.

If you want the authentic taste you will have to make them yourself, adopt a Polish grandmother, or search out a Polish bakery, arrive early and stand in a long line with the Babusha's to wait your turn at the counter.

The preserves are centered in the middle of the doughnut halves before frying. The authentic Warsaw variety of these delicious treats are made with egg yolks, butter, whipping cream and a little brandy along with the usual salt, sugar, yeast, flour and water. They are hefty and about half as sweet as store-bought.

Covered with a sweet glaze

And properly served on a pretty polish pottery plate.

M-m-m-m-m-m Find some!

Postcard Friendship Friday - Forever Green

Little cabins nestled among the redwoods at Siskiyou Camp in California.

The card is postmarked 1933, O'Brien Oregon, and reads:

Dear Nettie (Monday)

I am going on this A.M. All fixed up fine. Am feeling only fair. Rather high here for me. Will write when I get to the coast. Love, A. C.

Nettie lives in Medford Oregon. I'm pretty sure A.C. does as well since the card is addressed to Mrs. A.C. Walker. A prominent feature of Medford is Roxy Peak, a 30 million year old dormant volcano.

It sounds as though AC is having health issues. I was afraid he was on his way to Olalla Washington. It's not too far north of O'Brian. A retreat that claimed to cure by starvation was in Olalla during the early 1900's. Linda Burfield Hazzard cured several people to death there.

They all signed their estates and personal items over to her. Well, someone signed the documents. Also their gold teeth and anything else of value. Linda was arrested and convicted of manslaughter in 1912. She served just 2 years and then packed up and moved to New Zealand for a while. In 1920 she came back to Olalla and practiced the starvation cure for another 16 years. Greg Olsen's excellent book, Starvation Heights, tells the history of the "sanitarium" and the plight of the people who came in search of a cure.

Anyway, since AC was headed north and doesn't appear to be going directly home, I was afraid he might have thought a cure was in order for his unspecified ailments.

I chose today's postcard with a photo of coast redwoods (Sequoia Sempervirens) because I saw some in person recently. Sempervirens is latin for ever green, but the word "ever" applies to their longevity as well as their "always green" leaves.

I took this picture at Muir Woods! A magnificent, quiet, beautiful park. This is land that Teddy Roosevelt set aside for all of us to share and enjoy for as long as there are people to come and enjoy it.

I got up close and personal with this beauty. It felt like the tree was hugging me. I hugged a few myself.

It is a dark woods with patches of sunlight that manage to make their way down between the 300 to 375 foot redwoods. There are several varieties of the sequoia genus in the U.S. This variety is the one commonly called "redwood". The other varieties are called sequoia. Redwood is part of the cypress tree family. They do not have resinous sap and do not have a piny scent - or any scent at all.

The cone of the massive coast redwood is about two thirds the size of those shown above. Big trees from little seed cones grow.

Redwood Creek provides background music in the silent forest. Silence persists because there are not enough food sources to attract birds. The tannin in the trees actually repels insects. Only about 50 varieties make their home here including pileated woodpeckers, Steller's jays and northern spotted owls. I only saw one bird, a winter wren, while I was there.

The ground is damp from frequent fogs that roll through. Oyster mushrooms are happy and abundant here on fallen logs.

Jennifer brought me to Muir Woods for the day. It was a contemplative trip. Visitors seem to talk in whispers, but it's because their voices are caught up in the quiet air.

For more postcard voices, stop by and see Beth at The Best Hearts Are Crunchy!

Poetry Bus - Did I Forget Something?

Our bus driver for this tour is 120 Socks. How she ends up with an even number of socks is a mystery to me. I always have orphan socks that sit alone in the drawer waiting in vain for the mate that disappeared forever, somewhere between my foot and the clothes dryer. The single sock gets to stay on only because I believe in miracles.

The prompts that 120 socks have given us are intriguing -

1. This was one of the first creative prompts I ever received and it proved to be a good one -

I knew a woman who........ or indeed I knew a man who........

(real/fictitious or somewhere in between)

OR

2. The last time I was there...........

(again real,imagined, emotionally felt or pretty well any way you'd like to go with it)

OR

3. The photograph below or the colour Amber.

I've chosen number two - the last time I was there...

Forget-me-nots


I was sitting in a Waffle House
Just outside Peoria
Trying to get some syrup off my elbow
With one of those inadequate tissue napkins that pop out
None at a time
From a black and silver dispenser
Invariably jammed
Between sticky salt and pepper shakers
And a crusty catsup bottle

I wish to God that Estelle
(Her name tag reads)
Would spend more time
Cleaning syrup off chipped Formica table tops
And less time washing leatherette seats
With that sour dishrag
That appears to be universally owned
By every Waffle House in the region

Probably has “Waffle House Midwest”
Stamped on one smelly corner
And makes the rounds by express truck
Arriving three minutes before I do
At any given location

At least I can depend on a good cup of coffee
And a runny egg
If I want one

Reminds me of my mother’s kitchenette table
With that yellow oilcloth cover
Always slightly damp from a sour dishrag
Frayed some around the pinking-sheared edges
Dotted with small blue flowers

Probably forget-me-nots
Must be
Because I haven’t

And those cigarette burns on the corner
Where my father used to sit
And peruse the morning paper
Over his runny eggs

Might as well call the cigarette burns
Forget-me-nots too
Because I haven’t


Cynthia Ann Conciatu

Stop by 120 Socks for more bus riding poetry HERE!